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dreaisgrayte · 11 months ago

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Camp Maple | Sanemi Shinazugawa x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, kissing, friends to grudge to friends to sassy to lovers? childhood trauma, masturbation (fem and male), tad bit of angst, unprotected sex, cream pie, more to come? Honestly the ending could do with a rewrite but I'm too lazy for that right now.

word count: 17.5k

a/n: writers block sucks so I'm sorry if the end is trash. I wanted to get this out before school started up again. Unedited.

It’s fucking summer again. That meant working for your mother’s sleepaway camp. Maple Woods was a fun enough place to work when your mother wasn’t visiting, but if you had to work with that asshole again you highly doubt this would be the best summer ever that your mother promised you. At least last year he wasn’t scheduled to be a leader with you.

The main office is where you would grab your schedule and overall camp theme for this summer. It’s also where you could check what group you were head of. Luckily, the office building was right off the parking lot. The mess hall was a few yards down a worn rock pathway from the old brick building you were heading into.

The yellow screen door swings open with a screech, and you’re met with the steady whir of box fans pointed at the one lady you enjoyed seeing every year. Her straight blonde hair flutters in the heavy breeze as she looks up from her monitor. Once her caramel brown eyes settle on you, a sugary sweet smile overtakes her features. “YN!” She exclaims, standing from behind the counter. “I’m so glad you decided to come back, sweetie.” She extends her arms, walking out toward you. This is your aunt, Yena. She practically helped raise you when your mother would drop you off. Your childhood home was a 10 minute drive away, and where you lived now was around 15 minutes, depending on how long you procrastinated in traffic in an attempt to prolong accidentally running into your mother. Yena made sure your group of friends had snacks and unlimited access to her office. She was there when you had your first period. In other words, Yena was like a mother to you, at least more than your actual biological one.

You embrace each other, and the overwhelming smell of cinnamon hits your nose like a tidal wave. It was like home in a hug. “Like I had a choice.” You mumble but laugh with her after a beat. This felt nice, but you needed to settle in before the rest of the counselors flooded in and started the pre-camp party. “Ah, do you happen to know which cabin group I’ll be in charge of?” You inquire, holding her back from you.

Her brows crease with thought, and then she looks excited, holding up a finger to tap your nose. “Ah my little honeysuckle, you are co-leading the caterpillars.” She hums in delight. You tilt your head. Co-leading?

“Co-leading? With whom?” Your chest feels heavy. Last year, your co-leader was a slacker, leaving you with all the work and little time for yourself. Your group of kids were absolute sweethearts, so you didn’t mind too much. Still, the experience had put a bad taste in your mouth. Yena’s back to concentrating on your question, but this time, she shakes her head with a slight frown.

“I’m sorry dear, I don’t remember. Though, I do remember thinking that you two are sure to make a good pair!” She clasps your hands excitedly at the latter part of her sentence. You force yourself to smile through the anxiety.

“Heh, yeah.” In translation, you were screaming internally. “I’ll go figure it out.” The only thing you could do was head to your cabin and hope to bump into your co-lead. Maple Woods usually had 2 young adults co-lead a group of kids to keep things safe. The co-leads shared the head cabin, no matter what. It was the first cabin in a ring of 4 other ones. The campers were divided by age – that’s where the different sections came from – then put into co-ed cabins. One cabin could fit about 8 comfortably, depending on how many kids signed up. The caterpillars are the 2nd and 3rd grader sections. The co-leader cabin was bigger, but that’s only because of the shared bathroom and small kitchen area.

The air smells fresh, and you get lost in memories for a moment. There was the main hall where the welcoming ceremony would be held, and a cement path through a small patch of trees off to the side led to the different sections of cabins. On the other side of the path, surrounded by a small patch of trees, was the mess hall where meals and activities would be held. The older kids had cabins further into the woods while your section of cabins was situated right by the lake. Down the middle, past the mess hall and cabins, was the maple woods lake. The sunlight is glittering off the ripples already. Peace. That’s what the lake reminded you of. Up a trail on the north side, there was even a secluded waterfall, but the kids didn’t get to know about that part.

You walk down the cracked cement walkway, puttering around with a rock as you go. The green doors are easy enough to spot against the orangey light wood of the cabins. You were lucky. You got the cabins right by the lakefront. You hike up the stairs, noting a suitcase outside the left door. Okay, so someone was here. That was a good sign. Walking through the right door it hits you that you didn’t grab any of your bags from the car. You stop in the middle of the room, groaning loudly. “Shit.” You curse, turning on your heel. It takes about 10 minutes for you to clamber back into the room this time with your bags haphazardly strapped across your body. They slip off your body with no regard for your hair or your skin.

The room is simple, a bed in the corner, a closet, a desk, and a nightstand with a cute lamp on it. To the left are two doors, one leads to the kitchenette area – the other leads to the Jack and Jill bathroom, in which you can hear rushing water. Your co-leader must be taking a preemptive shower. You give an approving nod, wishing you could take a shower yourself. Instead, you decide to wander through the far door and into the kitchenette area. There’s a round table with a chair on either side of it pushed under a window. A small amount of counter space – treated pine countertops – decked out with a stove, sink, and a few cabinets. A fridge acted as the counter stopper, which was right next to your room – hmm, useful. Across from the kitchen area was a single sofa with a TV mounted on the wall. You always loved the counselors’ cabins because they were full of useful amenities.

You pull out a chair, sitting down at the table to peer out the window at Lake Maple. You hear a door open and turn your attention toward the sound with a cheerful smile. You had the full intention of greeting your co-leader. Instead, you’re met with the bare chest of a silver-haired and lilac-eyed asshole. A simple cotton towel is wrapped around his waist, water droplets still lazily pathing their way down his sinewy chest and past the line of the before-mentioned towel. Your brows knit together, and he does the same. “Sanemi,” you grumble, forcing a smile upon your lips. “Please tell me you’re a figment of my imagination.” This cannot be happening. Sanemi Shinazugawa can not be your co-leader.

When you met him for the first time both of you had bonded over having a shit parent. His father was abusive, scarring his son emotionally and physically. Despite the jagged pink scar that travels over the bridge of his nose and three crossing over each other on his forehead, Sanemi was excessively attractive. He wore his scars as a badge of what he’d overcome, but you knew there was underlying disgust that was hidden away.

He rolls his eyes, frustratedly peering to the corner of the room. “Believe me darlin’ I’m just as annoyed by this as you are.” Heat floods your cheeks at his casual way of speaking. You cross your arms over your chest, standing up from your chair with dramatic grandeur.

His eyes follow your actions, concentrating on the way you nearly stumble to the side. He quirks a smile and this only fuels your annoyance, which was amusing in its own right. “There has to be a way we can switch out,” You throw your hands up, exasperated. Sanemi shakes his head, placing his hands on his hips.

He then jerks his head toward the general direction of the main office. “Already checked with Yena, they don’t trust anyone else but you’n me to run the caterpillar crew.” He explains, disdain practically dripping from his voice. You groan toward the ceiling.

Of course, your mother would pull some shit like this. Making you work with the one person that could make you falter at your job. Was this a test? It was sure as hell annoying especially with Sanemi standing half-naked in front of you. “For fuck’s sake can you please go put on a shirt or something?” You pinch the bridge of your nose squeezing your eyes shut.

Your words only earn a dark chuckle from the man across from you. “Why? I thought I could wear this to the bonfire.” He shoots back smugly.

A long sigh blows past your lips as you decide not to honor him with a response. Instead, you head back into your room and slam the door. You fuss around with your hair, unpacking while you search for an outfit. Sanemi was so aggravating. With that smug look on his face and- you throw your hands down in frustration, frowning into the handheld mirror you propped against the wall. Sun earrings dangle from your ears, a simple gold chain around your throat, and mascara lifts your lashes. You put on high-waisted jean shorts and a pink bleach-washed tye-dye tank. Tennis shoes and white socks wrap it together.

Your heart hammers an overwhelming rhythm as you blow out a breath. Sanemi Shinazugawa was sleeping in the same cabin as you, sharing food, time, and a bathroom. You had to get over this stupid grudge against him. It wasn’t healthy to latch onto something so silly for such a long time, but back then it hurt like hell. For the children, you had to put your past behind you. Maybe if you got drunk enough tonight you could talk to him about it, but those odds were very unlikely.

There were a few people you wanted to chat with at the bonfire, have a few drinks, and then you’d be nicely tucked into bed ready for campers to start arriving tomorrow. Simple as that. A grin makes its way onto your face as you slip out of your cabin, but it quickly drops when you notice Sanemi leaning against the deck railing. You try not to sigh too loud, but he must hear it because he quirks a brow in your direction. “Why are you creepily waiting outside my door?” You inquire, gesturing to him. He huffs out a breath, stepping out of his leaning position.

He’s wearing a black hoodie with shorts. You’re mildly upset by how good he looks in darker clothes. It contrasts his hair in such a way that captivates you. You shake those thoughts out of your head as he trots down the stairs, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I can’t very well leave you to walk to the spot by yourself.” He nods in the direction of the dark path that winds through the woods and up the rocky ledges.

You raise your brows, joining him on the ground. “You think I can’t handle a little spooky path on my own?” You scoff. Sanemi rolls his eyes and the action pricks your skin.

He starts walking toward the path’s entrance and when you don’t follow he gives you a pointed look. “Shall I remind you of when we were seven?”

“Sanemi hold my hand! I’m scared!” You whine, grasping his hands when he doesn’t make a move. “Promise me you won’t leave my side!”

You whinge, shuddering at the memory, but jog to catch up with him anyway. He turns his head to watch the path become progressively darker, a few lamps hung on trees here and there. A grin finds its way onto his lips at the way you walk closer to him every time you hear a noise. “For a girl who grew up out here, you sure are jumpy. If you get too scared you can always hold my hand again.” He blurts, not meaning to tease you, but when your reaction is flushed cheeks and a high-pitched squeak, he can’t help himself.

Eventually, the flickering light of a campfire and the sound of laughter distracts you from the man walking next to you. You rush ahead, excitedly finding your way to Shinobu and Mitsuri, two of your closest friends. The only people invited to this bonfire were the kids who grew up coming to this camp and eventually became counselors or otherwise affiliated.

Gyomei Himejima; the stern, yet emotional one that usually dealt with the older kids. He claims the young ones are too selfish and he’s unable to keep them in check. He’s the oldest one here but still has such a soft spirit despite not having any family to go home to. Gyomei honestly loves the summer gig, but always chats about his pet cat that he can’t wait to get back to. You guess that was his family to get back to.

Tengen Uzui; Mister Casanova with the other counselors, but he’s rumored to be otherwise attached. Which was fine by you, Tengen was all talk, no action. Besides you didn’t want any action from him – his fan club would hunt you down and no matter how many defense classes you took, you would not be able to stop them.

Giyu Tomioka; the quiet one. He was great at his job but not the best at talking with the other counselors. He usually sat and listened to all of you talk on, interjecting a few times with his opinion. He was a genuine and good guy, you enjoyed talking to him one-on-one.

Kyojuro Rengoku; no one else could handle the little rascals than him. He worked with the younger children since he was as kind-hearted as they come. It takes a special type of person to do his job and no one could do it better than him, except maybe Mitsuri.

Mitsuri Kanroji; also works with the nursery and younger kids. She was a nurturer at heart, caring for the young ones was her specialty. You kept in contact with her and Shinobu the most outside of camp.

Shinobu Kocho; was the head of the infirmary, in case a child got a pretty bad scrape or needed medication. She may appear stern, but she was actually a big softy when it came to caring for the injured.

Obanai Iguro; head of the kitchen and helps lead exploration hikes. Obanai didn’t talk much either, he had that mysterious bad-boy thing going for him – which unfortunately Mitsuri fawns over. He was also Sanemi’s best friend.

The bonfire was an annual party held the day before camp starts. There was a rocky clearing at the top of the waterfall that fed into the lake. This spot had a perfect view of Camp Maple, overlooking the soft glowing lights and some people rushing around for last-minute chores. Memories intertwined themselves with the breeze rushing through the trees surrounding the group. It was like a second home up here or maybe more of an escape. Either way, the light feeling growing in your chest was a welcomed change from knowing you’d have to work with Sanemi. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world to happen to you. It still felt like a firecracker ready to explode in your face at any moment. There was bound to be trouble with this arrangement.

You glance at him, his eyes reflecting the warm glow of the fire. He’s grinning as he chats with Obanai, bringing a can of beer to his lips. You watch as his throat bobs, a dribble of liquid pooling at the corner of his mouth and eventually trickling down his neck. Before you can look away his eyes catch yours, a smirk lifting his lips as he pulls the can away. He raises his brows and your back straightens, your gaze quickly darting away.

“Hey YN, have another drink.” Shinobu nudges you, passing you a bottle of liquor. You grin as you take it from her.

The cool glass feels great against your mouth as you take a swig. The liquor burns a little as it slides down your throat, but it has a nice fruity taste to it. “Thanks,” You raise your glass to clink against hers.

Mitsuri is on your other side, nervously wondering if she should talk to Obanai. “YN, would it be…weird for me to interject in their conversation?” She whispers in your ear, motioning discreetly to Obanai and Sanemi. You let out a soft sigh before chugging the rest of your drink. Your body fizzes with the warm gooey feeling of alochol. Mitsuri watches you with wide eyes, they sparkle in amazement. “Woah, that was really cool!” She exclaims. You huff out a laugh, extending your hand for Shinobu to hand you another. She does as you request and you pop open the cap with your teeth, letting the contents of the bottle slip into your mouth. Mitsuri claps excitedly, gaining the attention of the guys next to her.

Sanemi stares at you, his brows knitting together slowly as he watches you swig one more bottle. You stand, swaying slightly as you turn to Sanemi. His gaze is trained on you, standing up as you stumble toward him. You crash into his arms, a dumb grin lining your lips. The group now looks on at the spectacle. “Nemi~” You coo, swinging your arms over his neck. Sanemi’s throat bobs, wrapping his muscular arm around your back to stabilize you.

He laughs nervously, smiling with gritted teeth toward the rest of the group. “I’m going to take her back down,” He begins, pressing you tighter into his grip. You’re frustrated with how good his body feels against yours and when your shirt rides up a bit his skin feels like fire. Everyone seems in agreement, but you twist in his arms to shoot Mitsuri a thumbs up and a wink. Her face erupts in a red flurry and your goofy smile turns back to meet Sanemi’s gaze.

You giggle at his stern expression. “Boop!” You squeak, tapping the tip of his nose with your finger. His brows raise slowly as he takes in your slumping condition.

Sanemi turns around, squatting down on his haunches. “Get on.” He motions with his head for you to climb onto his back. You hum excitedly, slinging your arms over his neck. Your legs wobble as you try to position yourself over his back. He sighs, reaching behind him to swipe your calves out from under you. You squeal as he repositions you, sliding his warm big hands under your thighs. “Hold on tight darlin’.” He instructs and you listen well by pressing into his back, nuzzling your chin onto his shoulder. “Well, have a good night everyone.” He tries his best to wave, the group saying their goodbyes.

The view from his back is enjoyable as he hikes down the trail. “You’re so strong,” You mumble, spanning your hands down his chest absentmindedly. Sanemi pauses, his muscles constricting as you touch him.

He shoots a look over his shoulder as you grope him. “Yeah, I work out, now please stop harassing me.” He jumps you further up his back to keep you from slipping off. You giggle at the jostling motion.

Despite his earlier complaint, he lets your hands roam over what parts of his body you can reach. There's a comfortable silence that falls over you both but as you peer into the woods a memory you’d rather not think about seeps into your mind. “Sanemi,” You start, trying to swallow the way your heart is beating – hopefully, he couldn’t feel it against his back. “I’m sorry I was so angry at you.” The apology comes out of nowhere, but Sanemi knows what you’re talking about.

He stops in his tracks, shutting his eyes for a beat. “Don’t apologize for what you have every right to feel.” He takes in a deep breath, you can feel his body rise with the motion. “I didn’t think your mother would do that, I-” His voice cracks and he clears his throat before continuing. “I was just worried about you. I was too scared to find you so I went to your mother.”

Your brows scrunch and you feel your chest tighten at his words. You tap his back. “I want down.” He silently helps you slide down his back. He still holds onto you, making sure you can stand on your own. You glare into his soft expression, bottom lip trembling. “You should’ve found me,” Your nose stings with the pressure of tears welling in your eyes. He watches you with a solemn frown. “You should’ve come to me!” Your voice raises, a tear falling down your cheek. You hit his chest, letting out a choked sob. “You knew Sanemi, you knew she’d be angry.” Your fist drops from his chest, coming up to cover your soaked face. “I hoped beyond everything that you would appear over the hill, not her.” You throw your hands down, shaking your head. He just stands there, letting you drunkenly yell and cry like an idiot in front of him. Letting you hit him, throw your words at him, and relive a past you’d rather forget.

He takes a step forward, yearning to reach out for you. “YN…” His voice is soft and comforting – you hate the fact you want to fall into his arms again. Have him carry you to safety like he should’ve done all those years ago.

You step away from him, raising your hands in front of your face. “No, no, I need time.” Your voice trembles and as you leave Sanemi standing there in the dark you cry all the way back to your bed.

❦❦❦❦❦

“Welcome to Camp Maple Woods!” Your mother clasps her hands together excitedly. You groan from your position against the back wall with the rest of the counselors. She continues with the opening speech, her grating voice making your hangover that much worse. Mitsuri bumps shoulders with you, an all too happy smile on her face.

You wish for just a second that you could have her resilience, but being perfect sounds like too much work. “Hey!” She whispers loudly to you. You peer around you, acting like she was talking to someone else. Mitsuri isn’t pleased with your antics because she crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a pointed look. You immediately halt and motion for her to continue. “Obanai and I texted all night.” Her stern expression lifts into a grin as her cheeks light up with a rosy color.

You’re about to celebrate with her when Sanemi walks through the back doors. The happiness you share with Mitsuri washes away. You swallow hard, eyeing him as he leans against the wall next to Obanai. Unfortunately for you, Mitsuri is very observant. She glances between you and Sanemi, narrowing her eyes. “Now campers are you ready to go on your tours!?” Your attention is drawn to the front where your mother claps her hands together. For a brief moment, she meets your gaze and your blood boils. “May all our wonderful counselors head up to the stage!? We’ll be getting into our sections now!”

You put on your best smile, following Mitsuri to the stairs. Sanemi jogs up behind you and the resolve you’d built up this morning before heading to the main hall nearly crumbles to the ground. You had done your best to wake up early, hate your life as little as possible, shower, get ready, and escape the cabin before bumping into him. His presence behind you is an annoying warmth you want to swat away. Mitsuri joins Kyojuro and you awkwardly stand next to Sanemi with a strained smile.

His shoulder brushes against yours and your breath hitches quietly. Your mother appears in front of you both, a blank expression on her features as she holds out a caterpillar sign to you. Your throat tightens, but Sanemi swipes it from her before she can shove it in your hands. You glance at him, brows knit together. The last thing you hear from your mother is a click of her tongue as she moves down the line. “Thank you.” You whisper, heart thumping in your chest. Was he trying to make up for what you talked about last night?

He glances down at you, his smile shifting to something different. “Come find us caterpillars!” He yells and you gawk at him. He shoots you a wink and your lips part in awe. Did he just wink at you? That was so… weird. You shake your head and flail your hands in the air.

Children start surrounding you, awkwardly shuffling to make room for others. Sanemi hands you a slip of paper with a list of names on it. Attendance doesn’t take long since everyone seems to have gathered around you. “Alright crew, let’s head out on that tour!” You exclaim, pointing your hand toward the double doors in the back. “Squirm to it you little caterpillars!” You shoo them down the stage, giggles erupting from a few of them as you jump off the edge.

Sanemi follows the rest of them down the stairs, still holding the sign in the air. You giggle at how seriously he’s taking the task. “Mister Sanemi?” A small girl tugs on his shorts once everyone is outside. He peeks down at her with an award-winning smile. “Why is she not miss Sanemi?” She points to you and your eyes go wide as you tense. What kind of question is that!? Was there some code of conduct that camp leaders had to married to each other? Was two names that hard to remember?

Sanemi squats down and suddenly you get a flashback of him doing the same thing last night for you. You swallow, watching as he jerks his head in your direction. “Miss YN isn’t my wife, so she doesn’t share my name.” He explains. You drag a hand down your face. You didn’t expect this type of question to be asked so soon or at all.

The little girl frowns and another kid points at Sanemi. “B-but I saw you wink at her!” The boy yells accusingly. Shit.

Sanemi glances at you with a ‘I fucked up’ look. He turns back to the group of children swarming him. He laughs easily. “I had something in my eye…” He deadpans. All of them suspiciously glare at him.

You step into the circle, patting the top of Sanemi’s head. “It’s our secret leader code,” You begin, nudging him with your hip. “Whenever we have info on the big bad boss we wink at each other.” You wink at the children and their little faces light up. “Now you’re all in on our secret mission. Ready caterpillars!?” You stomp your feet and salute them with seriousness. They gasp and follow suit.

“Yes miss YN!” Sanemi shoots up from his squatted position, saluting you with a stupidly handsome grin. You stutter for a moment, before going back to at ease. “Now, what do you say we drop all these heavy bags off at the cabins and start exploring?” Sanemi suggests, pointing to the small path that led to the caterpillar cabins. As he excitedly starts leading them off into the distance you make sure to gather the stragglers. A smile of your own tugs on the corners of your mouth. Maybe you did make a pretty good team.

Sanemi takes a seat on the stairs of your cabin, observing the kids form cabins of their own. You plop down one stair down from him, an amused grin forming on his lips. “What are you grinning about?” You quiz, glancing at him.

He shrugs, shifting himself onto the same step as you and leaning back against the other steps. You can’t help the way your heart seems to pick up river dancing, beating fully. “Just figurin’ since we’re agents together we should be close.” You glare over your shoulder, met with his lazy smirk in your direction. A huff compresses out of your mouth as you roll your eyes. “What? I like the way you act when I get close to you.” He laughs, eyeing your reaction – which was exactly what he wanted.

From his vantage point, Sanemi can just about manage to see your cheeks flush before you turn away from him, hiding away in your arm. “Like I’m being infected?” You shoot back, quickly standing up and – definitely pretending – to stretch.

Sanemi’s eyes slowly rake up the exposed skin of your back, his tongue swirling around in his mouth as if trying to imagine how you would taste. “Mmm, somethin’ like that.” He hums, grinning widely when you narrow your eyes at him.

The group of children start lining up in the grass, playing with each other while waiting for the rest of them. Some of them you recognize from last year, it’s crazy how fast kids can grow and change. Once you recognize all of their faces you and Sanemi start the tour.

There are specific things that a sleepaway camp needs to have. Such as the obvious answer, cabins. The next obvious thing on the list is a beautiful lake. “Lake Maple was discovered way back when and this camp was built around it to preserve the landscape. There are canoes, swim gear, and a nice dock to carefully jump from. Make sure if you go to the lake that you have either Mister Sanemi or myself with you for safety.” Sanemi watches you recite the information you were supposed to give out, but you seem genuinely excited talking about the camp’s history. It was endearing… and the way your eyes gleam reminds him of when you were little, climbing trees and always reaching your hand out to him. You never left him behind. He sighs, turning away from your speech.

The next thing a camp needs is huge buildings where lots of kids can gather. “This is the mess hall, where we’ll have breakfast, lunch, and dinner! It’ll also be where some indoor activities are held. If we don’t gather here, we’ll meet up by the picnic benches back at Caterpillar Circle. Over there is the infirmary where Miss Shinobu will gladly help you out. The main office is the building you should’ve passed when you were dropped off, that’s where Mrs Yena will be with, sadly, the only phone that has any service.” You point out, then turn toward the woods on the other side of the main camp area. You gesture widely to the expanse, taking in a deep breath. “And this, my little squiggles,” the children giggle, “Is Maple Woods, where we will hike trails, explore the wonders of nature, and fight off the evil boss.” Without thinking you wink at Sanemi. You can tell by the way his eyes bulge that he wasn’t expecting it, but as the little heads slowly turn to watch his reaction he quickly winks back at you. You catch yourself sighing in relief that you wouldn’t have to lay in bed staring at the ceiling for too long tonight because of that.

A little girl you recognize from previous years – Himari you think – raises her hand. You nod to her in recognition. “Are we going to have the first-day campfire?” She jumps up and down, the girls around her getting excited as well. You glance down at your watch, then up to the sky, then do the girls.

It was already late in the afternoon, the kids would have dinner and then gather back at Caterpillar Circle for an evening get-to-know-each-other campfire session. You grin, kids always enjoy the fire for some concerning reason. “Way to steal my job Himari!” You laugh and she giggles along with you. “Okay everyone, you heard Himari, head back to your cabins and get ready for dinner. Then we’ll have some time to get closer before bedtime. We have a busy day of fun tomorrow.” When they stare at you blankly, obviously waiting for one of you to start leading the way, you start marching your way down the path with as much vigor as you can muster.

Soon enough, you and Sanemi are back in your positions on the stairs to your cabin. That comfortable silence blankets you again, like the setting sun’s warmth. “Ya’know you’re really good at this,” Sanemi begins before blowing out a breath and turning to face you. “M’glad we get to work together.” He finishes, a distant glimmer of emotion swirling around in his lilac gaze. You suck in a breath, a storm brewing in your stomach.

Sanemi was a good guy, that much was obvious, but all those years ago had driven a wedge between you two. He hadn’t said the words ‘I’m sorry’ yet, which was a small nuance in the grand scheme of things. Sanemi was never really the type to say an apology, instead, he showed you. You can’t expect that much to change within him and you’re kind of glad. He would make it up to you until you were sure the wounds had begun to heal. He was giving you time to make up your mind on whether or not you wanted to forgive him. “Me too,” You whisper against the breeze.

A whole column of picnic tables lined up edge-to-edge belong to your crew as you file into the mess hall. A couple of other groups are already sitting down with food, including the littles. Mitsuri and Kyojuro wave excitedly at you and Sanemi. You grin, waving back. “Alright squiggles, show me how nicely you can line up to receive dinner. Then come sit down and we’ll have a little camp saying before we start eating together.” They scramble toward the food and you kick your legs under the table part, deflating slightly.

Sanemi comes up behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. It makes you straighten your back and whip around to look at him. His lips curl in a playful grin. “Want the usual?” You glance at the kitchen, your stomach growling softly. You look back to Sanemi, nodding eagerly.

As he walks away you think back to when he’d grab you dinner all the time, sitting in this exact mess hall. “Don’t disappoint me Shinazugawa!” You yell and he shoots you a smug grin as he scoots in line next to one of the boys in your group, Kenji.

Mitsuri peers at you from her table, glancing back at Sanemi. Something seems fishy, she just can’t put her finger on it. Before this month you were complaining about seeing him again and now you two appear to be chumming again. Did something happen that you weren’t telling her? She pouts, nuding Kyojuro. “Do those two seem friendlier?” She asks in a hushed tone. Kyojuro furrows his thick brows, humming as his gaze flips between his white-haired friend and you. He’s about to tell Mitsuri she’s off her rocker, but he catches Sanemi throwing a look back at you while you are otherwise occupied with kiddos sitting down next to you.

Kyojuro turns to Mitsuri, concern written all over his face. “Yes,” He hisses and now Mitsuri is concerned you may have ingested a little too much alcohol trying to help her out.

After a couple of minutes, Sanemi places a tray of vanilla pudding, tater tots, and chicken tenders with honey mustard sauce in front of you. “M’lady.” He grins, slipping onto the bench across from you with a tray of his own. Hana smacks Sanemi’s arm and he peers down at her with a surprised look. “What was that about Hana?” He questions, holding onto his arm where she hit him.

She puffs out her lips and points at you angrily. “Mister Sanemi, we just went over this. Miss YN is not your lady.” She crosses her arms glaring at him. His brows shoot up, giving you a look of amusement before patting Hana’s head.

She looks like she might bite him at first, but then she leans into his hand. “Only because Miss YN keeps rejecting me..” He smirks at you. Ha! As if!

You roll your eyes, but gather the attention of your tables. “Let’s sing my favorite camp song!” You lead them in the Camp Maple fighting song that ends with chanting the name of the camp. “Wake me up wake me up we’re going to camp! I can’t wait I can’t wait we’re going to camp! There it is there it is we’re going to camp! Which one which one!? C-A-M P…M-A-P L-E!” They seem to enjoy every second of it, mainly because they get to scream as loud as they can. Sanemi meets your gaze for a blissful second before you busy yourself with your food, biting into one of the chicken tenders. Delight rumbles from your chest as you swallow the meat.

Sanemi can’t help but watch you stuff your face. On one hand, he’s amused by how you still enjoy the simple things in life. On the other hand, he’s concerned when his heart races at you picking up the vanilla pudding. Being the heathen you were, as a child you’d just eat it with your finger. You claimed you could get more out of a cup if you used your finger. He grips onto the bench, gritting his teeth as you follow suit, sticking your pointer finger in. The creamy pudding sits there momentarily before you pop it into your mouth.

It’s a simple, innocent – completely fucking innocent – motion, but his thoughts shift to something more warm than the humidity. Fuck why was seeing you damp with light sweat making him hungry? When you let your tongue swirl around the tip of your finger it drives Sanemi mad. Is he panting? He feels like he’s panting.

A bit of pudding is on the corner of your mouth, waiting there. His heated gaze mimics how your tongue darts out to collect it. He sucks on his lips, regarding how your plump lips look so fucking delicious right now.

The only thing that snaps Sanemi out of his daze is Hana plopping a spoon in front of you with a disgusted look on her little features. “You know Miss YN, if you needed a spoon you could’ve just asked.” She grunts, shuddering. Your cheeks flush and for the briefest seconds, you gape, staring into his eyes. Your cheeks flush a vibrant pink and suddenly Sanemi is picking up the spoon and using it in his own pudding. Hana and you both gawk at him, but if he were allowed to feed into one desire this whole time, it would be watching you eat pudding with your finger. Especially if it meant you’d look at him like that again.

“This is the best pudding I’ve ever had.” Sanemi mumbles and Hana sighs frustratedly. “Something wrong Hana?” He asks. She whips her head toward him with a frown.

Sanemi has to roll his lips into his mouth to stop from laughing at how cute she’s glaring at him. “Yes, I’m going to have nightmares.” She huffs. Yeah me too, but they aren’t exactly going to be nightmares Sanemi thought.

Dinner finishes and children run around your feet as you walk out of the mess hall. The short walk back to Caterpillar Circle feels like an eternity with Sanemi walking silently beside you. “Can we wear our pajamas to the campfire!?” Aoi breezes past you yelling.

You quirk a brow. “How about we make it a race? Whoever is back at the picnic tables first… wins.” You eye the giddy looks on all of their faces. “Ready? Go!” You don’t expect Sanemi to bolt toward his side of the cabin. Oh, so he’s going to play it that way?

Kids scramble to their cabins, giggling and yelling. You’re also laughing as you quickly swing your door open. You spot the pajamas you’d laid out earlier this morning with a smirk on your lips. The one reason you suggested a race is because you had an advantage. Cheating? No, strategic gameplay.

You tug your clothes off, and toss them in the hamper beside your desk. A pair of shorts and an oversized shirt later you’re rushing out of the door in your slippers. You glance to your side, grinning mischievously when you don’t see Sanemi coming out of his door. You pump your hand in the air victoriously, spinning around in a mini victory dance. You proudly take your time prancing down the stairs, but when you turn to head toward the picnic tables Sanemi is leaning against the end of one with an amused smirk tugging his lips upward. Your mouth falls open, glancing back at his door. “How…? You…?” You slump in defeat as you reach him.

He chuckles softly, bumping arms with you. “Your victory dance was pretty cute.” He teases. You glare at him, shoving him back with your side.

Cute? In what way did he mean that? Sanemi must’ve talked too much with Tengen to pull one of those lines. You mutter a string of curses as you sit down in one of the green plastic lawn chairs. The arms dig into your hips and you grunt uncomfortably, pushing yourself into a less painful position.

Your thighs are pressed together as you squirm around in the chair and Sanemi finds himself ogling the space where your shorts disappear under your tummy. He wanted to run his tongue along that area while grazing his teeth along your thighs. A lascivious smirk pulls on his mouth as he clears his throat, turning his face to the sky.

The campfire starts with each kiddo introducing themselves, where they’re from, and three interesting facts about them. After the introductions, you bring out the s’more fixings with a twinkling grin as the kids scream enthusiastically. The night ends with you and Sanemi carrying some of them who fall asleep back to their beds. It was a euphoric space in time, something about today felt so right. Maybe the following weeks wouldn’t be so bad.

❦❦❦❦❦

You were wrong, so wrong. Sanemi stands to your side with his swim shorts on, assessing your outfit. “So… you’re not going to swim?” He cocks his head, quirking a brow. You lean back further into the armless beach chair, crossing your arms over your chest.

He closes his mouth, glancing at the group of kids playing with water toys in and out of the water. “Nope.” You reply. “Observing from a distance is more my thing.” You continue, sliding your sunglasses over your eyes so you don’t have to squint through the rays of the sun. Sanemi sighs, disappointment finding its way into his mind.

This morning when he saw you in a camp shirt with jean shorts he was sure you had a bikini on underneath. The only reason he got through a kid screaming about not getting any bacon this morning was the light at the end of his tunnel – you in a tight flattering bikini. “Y’know I knew you weren’t girly, but this is a whole new level.” Sanemi pokes at you, hoping that the fiery spirit within you will shoot out if he bugs you enough.

You glare at him, gesturing to your outfit. “This outfit is very girly I’ll have you know.” Sanemi shakes his head like he doesn’t believe you so you scoot as quickly as you can out of the chair. “Fine, watch the kids. I’ll be right back.” You snap. As you’re stomping back to your room you can’t help but think maybe you acted exactly how he wanted you to. If that was the case, then you’d give him what he wants, but he’ll pay the price. The malicious grin that forms on your lips as you pull out your lavender string bikini is grounds to have you locked away.

Sanemi throws a beach ball at a group of the boys in the face as they giggle. In the back of his head is a flurry of lewd images of you spread out on that damn beach chair with a revealing swimsuit on. The boys throw the ball back at him and it plinks against his chest. He shakes his head, reaching for the ball as the boys groan. Fantasies of you were a distraction so he couldn't even imagine what the real thing would do to him. “Woah…” He hears one of the boys whisper. He glances up, met with the heavenly picture of you walking down the bank in a light purple string bikini that laces across your front. The cups are simple triangles with a string wrapping around the back of your neck for support he would only suppose. The bottoms rise above the roundness of your hips, showing off the fullness of your body. Damn, his mouth felt dry as he can’t tear his eyes away from you.

His stomach was a trainwreck of emotions, the ball long forgotten by Sanemi. He blinks rapidly, trying to get you out of his eyes, but it was damn hard when you slowly lay back down on the chair, crossing your ankles over each other. He can see the side of your ass and for a beat, he feels like he might lose control. Then one of the boys throws the beach ball at him, it smacks against his face. This was torture. He expected you to look good, but the thin fabric allowed him to see the indent of your nipples – a vivid image he was never going to forget.

You smirk while lounging in the chair, studying the way Sanemi’s mouth falls open ever so slightly. It was a strange sense of gratification that he was so enraptured by how you appeared in the bikini. Almost like you were happy he was gaping at you, a fire lit behind his eyes that ignited something in your chest. If you weren’t careful you were bound to let it out at some point.

Since you were lost in your thoughts you hadn’t noticed Sanemi stalking up to your side. You squeak when he appears next to you, dropping a towel over your exposed skin. You glare up at him through your sunglasses. “Did you walk out of every boy’s fantasy?” He grumbles, running a hand through his damp hair.

Clicking your tongue, you toss the towel to the side and sit up in the chair. “Does that include yours Sanemi?” You inquire, pushing your sunglasses up through your hair. He stares at you for a while, mulling over what kind of response to give you.

Suddenly, he scoffs and turns his back to you. “Yeah. Yeah it does.” You swallow hard at his confession, the sun’s heat no longer feeling as hot. You scoff, leaning back into the chair. He gives you one last glance before running back to play with the boys in the water.

Was he being serious? He couldn’t have been…right? It wouldn’t make sense for Sanemi Shinazugawa, the guy whose seen you eat a bug, to have a fantasy – or whatever he meant about you. The confusion made the victory bikini less fun.

At dinner, the kids are enraptured in a conversation about tomorrow’s canoe outing in the afternoon. This might seem silly, with you being a sleepaway camp counselor that has a giant lake as its main attraction… but you never learned how to fully swim. You can keep your head above water if you’re able to touch the bottom. It's something you haven't mentioned to anyone due to the fact you would die of embarrassment. “How quickly can you go Miss YN?” Hana’s eyes are pleading with you to answer her inquiry.

So you smile, despite the obvious anxiety of where this answer might lead you. “Faster than Mister Sanemi.” You reply, jerking your thumb toward the white-haired male sitting a bit further down from you.

He perks up at the mention of his name, meeting your eyes. “Did you just say you’re faster than me?” He laughs, scooting down to sit across from you. Hana nods ecstatically before you can brush off the challenge dripping from his voice.

You sigh, shaking your hands in front of you. “Of course not. I wouldn’t dare reveal the truth about you being a slowpoke.” You tease. Sanemi quirks a brow, letting his eyes look you up and down. The simple motion makes your muscles tense with a buzzing sensation.

He hums to himself, leaning back with a shake of his head. “I bet you can’t win in the beginners' course against me.” Sanemi smirks, the boys around him snickering.

Your eye twitches at the smug look on his stupid face. You clasp your hands together, smiling with gritted teeth. “You’re on Shinazugawa.”

That was your second mistake of the week as you shakily got into a canoe the next morning dressed in a white shirt and comfortable black shorts. The kids were fine with pushing off the hike to another day to witness this extraordinary event. Sanemi is grinning victoriously already. It makes you want to slap him with the paddle you’re holding. “Ready?” He asks.

The grip you have on the paddle tightens as you nod curtly. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” You respond. Sanemi nods to one of the kids who starts a countdown before they all scream GO! Everything is going fine until you reach the turn. Sanemi is already far ahead of you and this becomes more of proving you can do it to yourself than winning against that smug bastard.

With the paddle dipping into the water you manage to turn around the flagged buoy, children cheering your name. Your heart nearly explodes with happiness at the accomplishment. You make it a few more feet before you get too overzealous and the canoe starts to flip. As you crash into the water you knew you’d just have to flip yourself back over to – well, not drown. But something goes wrong and you slip out of the canoe, into the deep end of the lake. Murky water crowds your vision and a few thoughts crowd your mind.

Will you get out of this alive? Is this some sort of divine intervention about how you’ve been previously living your life? Was this your canon event? You’d laugh at that one if you weren’t still sinking to what felt like the depths of the lake.

Would your mother even care? Okay, that one stings, but it’s something you think about a lot. When you’re driving and have one of those intrusive thoughts about wrecking. Would she care? Noticing a creepy person walking behind you at night. Would she come to your funeral? And now, as you lose the will to breathe. Would she remember what you smelt like, sounded like, looked like?

Sanemi crawls out of his canoe, raising his hands in victory. He turns around to gloat in your face, but he’s met with your canoe upside down. You are nowhere in sight and after a second of you not popping back up, Sanemi frantically dives into the water. Where are you? His hands glide through the water, searching for any sign of your body. Where are you? Water fills his ears, only making the pounding in his chest louder with each stroke of his arms. He breaches the surface, gasping for air and twirling around to see anything – anything that would lead him to you. “Mister Sanemi! There!” A child screeches, pointing to the front side of your canoe.

He plunges back in after taking a large gulp of air. He will find you this time. He’s not scared anymore. Not like all those years ago. He couldn’t lose you, not like this.

Amid some plant life is your floating body. If Sanemi were above water he thinks he’d cry with joy. He quickly moves toward you, scooping you up and pushing both of you toward the surface. Please please please don’t be too late. Sanemi’s mind is whirling with anxiety and his heart is pounding with the lack of oxygen. You both break through the surface, Sanemi pulling you along with him to shore. He deposits your limp body on the sand, panting and scanning for any sign of injury.

You’re not breathing. Damnit. Sanemi’s jaw ticks as the children rush toward him. “Mister Sanemi give her CPR!” Hana yells, stomping her foot and mimicking the pushing rhythm he should be performing on you. He wipes his mouth, nostrils flaring as he slides to your side. His insides were twisting in unbreakable knots, squeezing his lungs of all air.

He pinches your nose and lowers his mouth to yours. “You can yell at me later,” He breathes quietly before connecting his lips to yours. As he pushes air through your lungs his lecherous mind drifts to how very wonderful your lips feel against his. They’re wet and taste like lake water, but they’re so damn soft. After a few more blows he worriedly looks at your chest. He doesn’t want to break your ribs, but if he has to in order to save your life – he’s going to.

Luckily, you chose now as the moment to gasp in air and then start hacking up lake water. Your eyes wildly scan your surroundings, locking onto the man hovering inches from your face. You squirm away from him, coughing into your hand. Sanemi and the children watch you with concern-stricken faces. You touch your throat gingerly, meeting the swirling lilac gaze of the male in front of you. “You saved me,” You croak out as it all falls into place, furrowing your brows.

Hana pops into your view shaking her head. “Took him a long time to kiss you!” She yells, an annoyed pout on her lips. You glance back to Sanemi, his gaze still locked onto you.

He cocks a grin in your direction which makes your heart swell. “I gave you mouth-to-mouth.” He explains and the worry about you being unconscious for your first kiss with Sanemi – not that you’ll have a first kiss with him – drifts away. The thought of his mouth on yours stays wandering in your head regardless. “Kids, can you hang out in the mess hall while I take Miss YN to the infirmary?” Sanemi questions, the children eagerly following instructions. He peers down at you once they’ve all scurried toward the big building.

With a grunt, he slides his hands behind your neck and knees, hoisting you up bridal style. You yelp at how easily he holds you against his chest. “Hey, I can walk,” You grumble, glaring at his concentrated expression. He shakes his head, climbing up the bank.

As he climbs you nearly tumble out of his arms. He cracks a smile, shifting you in his grasp. “Might wanna hold on tighter than that darlin’. Don’t worry, I won’t mind.”

Begrudgingly you wrap your arms around his neck. The walk to the infirmary takes less than a couple of strides when he reaches the walkway. Shinobu worriedly meets your gaze when Sanemi kicks open the door with his foot. She stands from her desk, hurrying over to his side. “What happened!?” She assesses you with a scrutinizing look. “Put her down on that bed. I need to go get another bottle of aspirin from the main office. Sit tight.” Shinobu huffs, running a hand through her hair before slipping out of the door.

Sanemi gently lays you on the bed, giving you a scan of his own. You swallow hard, wondering why your body feels so warm despite the brisk ac making your wet clothes stick to you. The way his lilac eyes regard you made something inside of you switch. He’d shown you how deeply he cared for you by saving your life. Granted, any decent person would’ve jumped in to pull you out of the water – but Sanemi looks shaken up. Like he almost lost you. It makes your chest heave, a heavyweight tugging on it as you reach up to touch his cheek.

His worried look turns to you, a slight wobble in his irises as your thumb strokes the side of his face. “Hey… I’m here. I’m okay. You did such a good job.” You whisper, but yet your voice seems too loud. Sanemi leans into your touch, shutting his eyes as he takes in a shaky breath.

It was all fun and games until he had to think of a world without you in it. The bottom line is he wouldn’t have a world without you. The grass would shrivel, the color would drain, and sunlight would simply cease to exist. “You should’ve told me you couldn’t swim.” His brows furrow and he opens his eyes to stare into your very soul. “Why didn’t you tell me? I was so worried YN.” He rolls his lips into a thin line, his chin trembling.

It’s like you lose your breath all at once. This man, the one you thought didn’t have an ounce of compassion for you, was about to start crying because you failed to mention your lack of skill. You bump your forehead against his head, kissing his hairline. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” At your words he jerks away from your head, his eyes wildly scanning your face. Your breath holds tightly in your throat as time seemingly slows.

Then his eyes fall to your lips and everything in the universe pulls you two together into a soft brush of the lips. Given the state of it, hidden behind a white curtain on the infirmary bed, the kiss felt too precious. Too wonderful. Your hand falls from his face and before you have a moment to give in to whatever was happening, Sanemi pulls away. He shoots to a standing position, turning on his heel. Your body cools instantly. Oh. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have,” He begins, taking a couple of steps toward the curtain. Oh. He quickly glances over his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He hisses, then rushes out of the building nearly bumping into Shinobu as she walks back with a pill bottle in hand. She jumps back, eyes widening as she watches Sanemi stalk toward the mess hall. If it hadn’t been for the heat she might’ve mistaken the red on the tip of his ears as something else.

❦❦❦❦❦

Weekends are set up for the kids to decide what they want to do. It’s a free period within reason. Most of them hang out in groups around the buildings, playing games or swimming. Weekends allow the leaders to get chores done around the campgrounds, like picking up trash, organizing things for the next week, arranging laundry, and supervising more involved things.

You happened to spend most of the first weekend with a group of girls who wanted to use the craft supplies for next week. Since Sanemi was your co-leader there were times you had to speak with him, which made avoiding him incredibly difficult.

The thing that upset you the most was even after he ran off, your heart still flutters at just the sight of him. Weren’t you supposed to be the master of your own emotions? It frustrated you to no end how you sought him out in crowds. At first, you tried to convince yourself it was a strategy to avoid him, but when he didn’t come to talk to you somehow your heart sank.

Before you know it, Monday morning arrives, casting a stormy forecast for the rest of the week. It’s pouring heavily outside the mess hall windows. Fortunately, your group of kids are behaving even though it couldn’t be easy stuck inside all day. Your eyes are drawn to the other group happily stringing beads onto yarn.

Sanemi sits amongst them with a warm smile on his face, actively trying not to glance at you. He can feel your gaze on him and it was making his heart feel weird, like he’d just run a mile or hiked up a trail. He presses his lips into a thin line, laughing absentmindedly at one of the boys spilling beads everywhere.

The kiss. That’s all he could think about and it was ruining his life. All night he tossed and turned thinking about knocking your door down so he could do it again. Regret ran through every fiber of his being when he walked away. He thought he’d gotten over his fears, but it turns out that realizing you might have feelings for your good friend is not the easiest situation to be in. He was in a panic, fucking terrified you would hate him for kissing you. He didn’t even ask you, it just happened. What kind of scumbag was he?

He groans, turning to face away from you. You huff, rolling your eyes. Fine, he could be that way if he wanted. He’s the one who kissed you anyway. This was all on Sanemi. Hana nudges her friends Keiko, Mai, and Akane. They all slowly turn to stare at you, then toward Sanemi. Keiko narrows her eyes while tying the knot on her bracelet. “Somethings wrong,” She mumbles, slipping the adorably crafted jewelry onto her arm.

Mai and Akane nod vigorously. “Why are they avoiding each other?” Akane hisses, glancing back at their other leader. Hana shakes her head, stroking her chin in thought.

Kenji appears behind the group, causing them all to jump. Mai slaps his shoulder and he giggles. “What’cha talkin’ ‘bout?” He pokes his head in between Akane and Mai’s shoulders. They collectively sigh, rolling their eyes at the annoying boy.

Hana gestures to both leaders, pinching her brow. “For some reason, Mister Sanemi and Miss YN are avoiding each other.” She explains snappily.

Kenji pops his head up, glancing at both of you. His mouth forms in the shape of an ‘o’. “Ah, this reminds me of when my mom and dad would fight and then ignore each other.” Hana perks up at his suggestion, slowly turning to look at her friends.

Mai raises a brow and then grabs a piece of yarn. “There’s only one way to fix this.” She valiantly collects a bunch of green beads to mix with lilac ones. She picks out two heart-shaped beads that sit on either side of a letter in the middle. When she’s done, two bracelets sit in front of her. One has an ‘S’ with two red hearts on either side, followed by a pattern of lilac and green. The other is the same, except in the middle is the first letter of your name. “Matching friendship bracelets,” She holds them up, smiling triumphantly.

Hana claps her hands together. “Wonderfully done Agent Mai, now let’s give it to them!” She grabs the ‘S’ one from Mai’s hands, running over to your side. “Miss YN!” She yells. “We made this for you!” Without much consideration for your wrist, she shoves it past your hand.

“Here you go Mister Sanemi!” You turn to see Kenji holding what seems to be the same bracelet in front of Sanemi’s face. A roll of thunder shakes the valley outside and his eyes meet yours momentarily. It sends a shock of emotions through you.

Later that night as the rain plips against your window you stare at your wrist in awe. A growl echoes around your room and it takes you a moment to realize it was your stomach. It almost makes you crack a smile. You would’ve if you weren’t in such a daze as you walk out into the living room area.

What you don’t expect to see is Sanemi leaning against the counter shirtless, with his sweats hanging loosely around his athletic hips. You swallow, taking your time to rake your eyes up his bare chest. When you end up meeting his gaze his lips tug into a smirk. “Enjoy the view?” He mutters, picking a peach up off the counter.

Your brows furrow and you cross your arms over your chest defensively. “As a matter of fact, no I’m not.” You snap, scoffing and lying through your teeth.

Sanemi shrugs, biting into the juicy peach tantalizingly slow. Juices leak from the broken skin, dribbling down his chin as he takes the flesh into his mouth. His tongue darts out to lick up a droplet escaping down the side of the fruit. You gulp as he continues to eat. The noises alone were enough to drive a woman mad, but the fact you were ovulating made everything so much worse. “Want one?” Sanemi asks, licking his lips of all the sticky juice.

If you were crazy your mouth would fall open, allowing him to put the one he was eating into your mouth. “No.” You grumble, yanking a can of Pringles out of the cabinet.

Sanemi watches how your ass curves as you stretch to reach into the upper cabinet. “Suit yourself,” He mutters, biting into the peach again. You roll your eyes and march right back into your room, tossing the pringles onto your bed. You ruffle your hair, silently screaming into the night. Fuck that guy for being shirtless. He waltzed around like a whore scrounging for some loose change obviously trying to get a rise out of you. Would the kiss go unmentioned forever? How were you supposed to be around Sanemi when all you could think about was how badly you wanted to jump his bones? You’re absolutely fucked. You grit your teeth together as you glare at the door. But damn did he have such a perfect body. The sweats, the lazy smile, the damn peach he bit into. It was all torture and he damn well knew it.

He wasn’t likely to figure out the full extent of your feelings– hell you didn’t even know exactly what you felt, but if he kept this up you might as well walk around with a neon sign on your forehead that reads I’d like to fuck Sanemi Shinazugawa. Maybe then your mother would pay attention to you. Not that you care.

You glance down at your wrist again, the letter ‘S’ spreading a grin across your face. This was stupid. So stupid. What if Sanemi was still in the other room? Or using the bathroom? What would you do then? You have a pit of desire and you wish Sanemi would clean it off with his teeth. Were you jealous of a peach? Groaning, you slip out of your bottom layer of clothing, discarding it on the floor. Things were getting dangerous. Your thoughts were supplying you with a fantasy world and you were about to become delusional. At least then you wouldn’t have to face the reality of this stupid – well, whatever it was.

Positioning yourself against the corner of your bed, you spread your legs apart. The cool breeze from the ac hits your damp pussy and the sensation makes you slump against the wall. If Sanemi were between your legs right now he’d probably lick his lips and spread them even wider so he could have full range to lavish his tongue against your sensitive clit. A tiny moan whines from your throat.

The image drives you to reach between your thighs, hissing when your fingers brush against your clit. His tongue would feel warm, wet, and slick as it laps at your folds. Your fingers plunge deeper, a strangled moan falling from your mouth.

Your breathing pattern stalls, hiccuping as you work yourself into a frenzy – the inside of your stomach feeling gooey and hot. His long thick fingers would slip into your pussy, teasing the entrance where you’d beg for him to fuck you later. He’d smirk, pleased with how you’re so desperate for his cock, for all of him. But he’d make you wait, good girls always wait for permission. You groan – a guttural pleasured groan. It rolls through your chest, cracking into a whimper at the end as you edge yourself closer to your crest.

It’s like you’re seeing stars with how your fingers feel, you only wish Sanemi were here, ready to please like he usually is. His words and touch always elicit a response from you. He had to know that. What kind of response would he get out of you as he lined the tip of his cock up at your entrance? Making you bed for him to fuck you unconscious. You’d be such a good little slut for him. Taking all of him inside your hungry cunt until he clung to your hips, spilling his seed inside of you.

A tense pinch of pleasure squeezes your core, crashing through your body with a string of perfectly pretty moans. Sanemi hadn’t meant to listen to you masturbating. It was an accident – he’d come to your door to apologize for allowing you to misunderstand his intentions. His knuckles had brushed against the wood of your door when he heard you gasp. Wondering if you were okay he pressed his ear to the door. Then, his muscles tensed as you purred out a moan.

Sanemi was a decent man – or so he thought until his hand slips down to his growing bulge. He hisses as you whimper, gasping for air – your bed squeaking with movement. He wants to swing the door open and take in the sight of you sprawled out. What kind of face were you making while moaning like that? More importantly, what were you thinking about?

You’re whimpering and the glint of the beads around Sanemi’s wrist sends his thoughts spiraling. The very same bracelet he wore on his arm was around yours. It was like he was between your legs, pressing his thumb against your clit to proudly watch you squirm in pleasure. His mouth waters, imagining how you’d taste after cumming. His cock aches to burrow into your wet warmth and stay there forever.

He presses his forehead to the wood, letting out a tight breath as he strokes his length through the cloth of his sweatpants. If he stayed here any longer it would surely result in him knocking down your door. Not the valiant way he had thought about confessing. Sanemi steps away from your door, cursing under his breath. He holds up his arm, staring at the matching bracelet until he notices the first letter of your name. His gaze slowly makes it way back to the door. Was there an ‘S’ on yours? For his name? His eyes flutter shut, a trickle of possessiveness racking through his body.

Tuesday is finger painting. The kids each get their own easel and insist you and Sanemi paint with them. The morning ends with Sanemi having paint smeared across his face and you with splotches on your arms. The afternoon is bubble painting, which results in bubbles being blown everywhere. Wednesday is crafting things with clay. You proudly present your monstrosity at the end of the day. Sanemi and the kids try their best to compliment whatever you had created, but you can tell they’re just being nice.

When Thursday rolls around the kids want to draw and color all day so Sanemi and you make sure they have lots of construction paper, colors, and other supplies. You’re sitting with Hana’s group of friends and Sanemi is across the room with a group of boys, drawing furiously.

Kenji peers down at what Mister Sanemi had drawn. “Hey, that kind of looks like Miss YN,” He points at the stick figure holding the hand of the other one. Sanemi covers the page and shakes his head.

Kenji somehow manages to push his arms off, grabbing the paper. “Oi! Brat, give that back!” He yells as Kenji runs over to your side. You smile down at him as he hands you the page.

You cover your heart and your smile grows. “Aww, Kenji did you draw this?” You ask, your voice softening.

He shakes his head vigorously. “Nope! Mister Sanemi drew you and him holding hands!” You glance up, meeting the flushed face of Sanemi standing over Kenji. His eyes look pleading as you drop your eyes to the drawing again. It did kind of look like you, but that would be impossible. Why would Sanemi draw something like this?

“YN, listen…” He starts, brushing up against you. Your body stiffens at his close proximity. “I hadn’t finished, I was going to draw the kids in next.” He explains. You wish he would step back from your side because his warmth is driving you insane.

Kenji giggles as he rushes back to his group of friends. “It wouldn’t matter anyway.” You state, handing the drawing back to Sanemi. “I could honestly care less what you draw.” You smile sarcastically and turn back to your group. Sanemi stands behind you for a moment, his heart yearning to reach out and touch you again – but he doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. He obviously already fucked up when he kissed you, after all you’d been avoiding him. It was best that he kept his distance to figure out how to talk to you and give you space so you’d listen to him.

The next morning you manage to chow down your breakfast before Sanemi enters the kitchen area. In all honesty, you were aware thinking about someone you were mad at while masturbating… wasn’t the best look. You didn’t want to think about the realities of what that meant for you since Sanemi was still being an asshole about the whole innocent kiss thing. The thoughts going through your head last night were far from innocent.

You’re sitting in a lawn chair, writing down some ideas for today’s craft. The kids had to make puppets and come up with a script to perform in the afternoon. With your group of kids, things were bound to go smoothly. You grin, shutting your notebook and checking the time on your phone. It was almost time for the kids to meet you and Sanemi near the picnic benches. You glare at your cabin, waiting for the white-haired male to step out of his door at any moment. The knob turns and you quickly act like you weren’t blatantly waiting for him. “Mornin’ YN,” Sanemi calls, jogging up to your side. You roll your eyes, glancing at the casually attractive outfit he has on. A pair of fitted black shorts that accentuate the size of his muscular thighs with a loose gray shirt tucked into one side.

He plops down next to you. “Why were you so late?” You interrogate. Sanemi quirks an easy smirk, eyeing you out of the corner of his eye.

Sanemi props one of his legs over the other, leaning further into the chair. “I had to take a shower,” He begins, raising his brows. “Could’ve used the company.” He cocks his head toward you, his lilac eyes filling with an expression you couldn’t pinpoint.

Your brows furrow despite the blush spreading across your cheeks. “Scared of showering by yourself just like you’re scared of kissing people?” You snap and his playfulness is immediately wiped off his face. Where were these words coming from? Were you going crazy? The inside voices are becoming the outside voices! It’s too late now to back peddle. You scoff, turning away from him. “Don’t, I know you regret and it’s fine. I just figured you would’ve cut back on the flirting.” You push out of the chair. “I’m not some girl you can flirt with for the summer and then fuck off to wherever, okay? If you’re going to accidentally kiss me then fucking own up to it and talk to me like an adult. You made me feel so uncomfortable because I somehow thought it was my fault. So this whole cool-guy act needs to stop. Until we have a real conversation about what happened I would rather go back to friendly hating each other.”

As you stomp away Sanemi feels the ‘oh shit’ factor roll through him. While he’d been trying to figure out his feelings toward you, he’d been allowing you to figure it out for him. You assumed he wanted some summer fun and thought better after kissing you, but that wasn’t it at all. Sanemi was falling, so fucking deeply in love with you. He had been ever since you were kids, but as a boy who grew up barely knowing what kindness was, it was hard to seek out those emotions. Now looking back to how he felt when you ran away into the woods that night… he realizes the panic of finding your mother was so you would be found as quickly as possible. No one saw you for a week after that and he’s still not sure what happened, but he knew it wasn’t good.

He was stronger now and he’d stand up to your demons, slaying them with you by his side. He would protect you no matter what, but right now he had to explain this misunderstanding before it was too late. Kissing you was the best thing to happen to him – accident or not. It made him forget how shitty his life was and how blissful it could be by just seeing you. He’d fucked up.

After cooling off you wandered back to the growing group of children that rush you when they spot you. It makes your heart warm that they’re so excited. Sanemi watches you from a distance and you’re glad he seems to finally be listening to you.

Leading the kids to the mess hall through the light morning rain is more peaceful than it should be. No one tries to jump in the mud, they stay in between you and Sanemi, walking politely. When you explain in detail what they’re supposed to do all of them get to work using craft paper and whatever was leftover from the week. The morning blows past and suddenly you’re sitting in a seat next to Sanemi as groups of kids put on puppet shows. Some of them make you snort with laughter and others are downright works of art. Then, Hana and her group of friends present their show. A spikey white-haired puppet and one that looks eerily like you pop up into the makeshift theater.

Your eyes widen realizing what’s going on. “Hi there darling! I sure do love your face!” Kenji yells, playing the white-haired puppet.

Slowly you and Sanemi make eye contact. “We should love each other’s faces forever. Then love our baby’s faces. Then love our-”

You shoot into a standing position, clapping your hands together. “Okay, that’ll wrap up the puppet shows everyone!” You demand, laughing nervously. What the actual fuck? You whisk around to glare at Hana and Kenji dramatically making the two puppets kiss. “Oi, William Shakespear and Agatha Cristi get over here, now.” You point to the spot next to you and Sanemi. Akane and Mai scurry away with the rest of the kids heading toward the snack table.

Kenji and Hana meander toward you; pouts puffing out their bottom lips. “Guys, you can’t keep doing this.” Sanemi gestures to the puppets on their hands. “Miss YN and I aren’t some story you can just use willy-nilly. We’re real people with real emotions.”

A scoffed laugh falls from your lips. “Mister Sanemi has a hard time with emotions anyway, that’s why this show wasn’t even true to life. He would never call someone darling.” You explain dully.

Hana shakes her head, pointing to Sanemi. “Nu-uh! He called you darling the other day!” She exclaims. You glance at Sanemi and then drag a hand down your face.

“Hana, this isn’t something you should be concerned with.”

“But we just want you and Mister Sanemi to make up.” She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s no fun while you guys are fighting.” Your eyes bulge as she talks. Did the kids care that much? And they noticed? Gosh, that was kind of sweet.

Sanemi leans forward, ruffling Hana’s hair. “Don’t worry about it kiddo, we’ll work on it.” He glances at you with a slight smile. A sigh rushes through you as you nod in agreement. Kenji and Hana rush off to the snack table to join their friends. You can remember a time when you and Sanemi played pranks on the camp leaders. A growing ache suffocates your next breath. You peek at him, wondering where things went wrong. Part of you was mad that he walked away after the kiss and another part was angry because you enjoyed it so much. No matter what happened it felt like you couldn’t be friends with him. It was like the universe was keeping you away from each other for a reason unbeknownst to you.

When you both get back to the cabin nothing gets talked about. It’s an awful feeling, like abandonment all over again. Sanemi didn’t care enough about you to talk or explain why he kissed you. Everything was so nice until that stupid kiss that you couldn’t stop thinking about. The fact that it was that good, yet lasted about two seconds drives you mad.

It’s not until Saturday morning as the sky quakes with thunder and heavy rain, that you decide enough is enough. If he wasn’t going to talk to you, then you’d have to take it into your own hands. That was until there was a knock on your outside door. You get out of bed and open it to find Yena holding an umbrella. Her eyes are filled with some sort of sorrow as she blows out a heavy breath. “YN, deary, I need to speak with one of your kiddos. Can you bring Kenji to the main office? His mother is on the phone.” She explains, a sad smile creasing her lips. You nod your head, looking toward the cabin you knew Kenji was sleeping in.

You look back to Yena, wondering how serious it was for her to be so affected by it. “Yeah. Let me get dressed and I’ll bring him over before 8.” You reply, a cool wash of anxiety coating your insides. Yena nods.

“I’ll see you then.” She turns to leave, walking out into the downpour. You study her retreating form before shaking off the dreadful feeling that was wrapping around you. After slipping into a comfy pair of shorts and a hoodie you run over to cabin 3.

Knocking on the door a sleepy boy answers the door. You recognize him as Mikey, one of Kenji’s close friends. “Hey Mikey can you get Kenji for me, please? Tell him to get dressed and meet me out here.” You explain and the little boy shuts the door.

A couple of minutes later Kenji pops out of the door, eagerly running up to you. He hugs your legs and bounces up and down. “Are we going on a special mission Miss YN!?” He yells, grabbing onto your hand. For some reason your heart aches, sensing something is off.

You bend down to his level anyway, putting on your biggest grin. “We sure are! I needed my bravest soldier to help me on a secret quest.” Your face becomes stern and Kenji giggles, running around in a circle.

“Don’t worry Miss YN! I’ll protect you! Did’ya know I’m stronger than Mister Sanemi!?” He squeals, punching the air. You stand up, laughing off his comment about your co-leader. All those years carrying you around and taking care of his little brother were bound to build up excess strength. Plus those muscles of his were no joke…

Kenji latches onto your hand again as you walk the path to the main office. It’s not raining as hard as it was moments ago, but thunder still rolls through the sky. You walk him through the main office door, Yena waiting behind the counter with the phone pressed to her ear. She spots Kenji and waves him over. He sends a look at you over his shoulder before releasing your hand to walk to Yena’s side. She hands him the phone and his face instantly drops.

The hands of your past crawl back into your stomach, clawing out anything good and leaving behind gouges of trauma, boiling toward your throat. Kenji’s eyes start trembling as he clutches the phone to his ear. “No! No! You can’t!” He suddenly yells, pushing the phone away from him, sobs flooding from his mouth. You take a step toward him but he angrily glares at you before bursting through the front door. Yena slumps defeatedly against the wall.

You glance at the door still swinging shut. “Yena, what’s going on?” You inquire softly, terrified of the answer she’d give you.

She looks up, a pained expression taking the light away from her face. “Kenji’s parents are divorcing. His father isn’t going to be there when he gets back.”

Her words coast around in your brain before you turn on your heel and bolt after Kenji. No, no, please no. The similarities between your past and this moment is laughable as you cut through the trees. Your eyes wildly search for little Kenji, anywhere, somewhere. Thunder claps above your head but you ignore it, traveling further into the woods. “Kenji!” You scream, rain spitting into your eyes. “Kenji please come back!” You yell, cupping your hands around your mouth. You feel empty, yet full of terror. The same way you felt back then when your mother kicked your dad out of your life. The man that would take care of you when your mother got too angry or too drunk. He was gone forever, your protector. Left you to be fed to the monsters your mother harbored.

You split through a clearing, breathing heavily as the rain comes down with torrential intent. You feel like crying, screaming, throwing yourself off a cliff even, but you catch a glimpse of Kenji’s red shirt huddled up against the hallow of a tree. “Miss YN!” He cries, holding out his arms for you. “I’m scared.” You rush to his side, bringing him tightly to your chest.

The both of you cling to each other under the cover of the tree, sobbing with the sky. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here.” You breathe, stroking his head. Kenji curls up in your arms, trembling with tiny hiccups. You knew these woods like the back of your hand, but as the rain blurs your vision the realization crashes over you.

You had no idea where you were.

Sanemi watches the rain from his window, wondering what you were doing right now. He grunts as he slides off his bed, heading through the kitchen area to your door. He knocks lightly, aware that you might still be sleeping. “YN?” He calls out softly, but you don’t respond. He furrows his brows knocking harder. “YN?” His voice is firmer, but yet nothing comes from your room. He reached for the knob, twisting it open with ease. The door swings open revealing your empty room. He glances around, breathing in your scent and trying to push down the excitement of being in your personal space. He moves around your room, heading toward your outside door. He walks through it, feeling the cool breeze of the storm against his skin.

Where were you? He spots a group of boys sitting outside their cabin. He jogs over to them through the rain, stopping under the cover of their deck. “What’cha up to?” Sanemi inquires, planning on asking them if they’d seen where you went.

One of them looks at him. “Miss YN took Kenji and we’re waiting for him to come back because he wanted to play games with us.” He explains and Sanemi quirks a brow.

What was that about? “Do you know where?” Sanemi pushes. The same one that was talking to him shakes his head.

“They were headed toward the main office, but I’m not sure where exactly they were headed.” Sanemi thanks the group of boys before running toward the main office. When he swings open the door Yena is sitting at her desk with her head in her hands. She glances up when he walks further into the door.

Her features soften, a worried expression crossing her face. “Oh Sanemi, thank goodness. I’m so worried.” She rises from her seat, crossing over the carpet to his side.

A sense of dread hits the pit of his stomach like a weight of bricks. What was going on? Where were you? Why did Yena look so anxious? “What’s wrong?” Sanemi glances around the office, wishing that you’d pop out to surprise him.

Yena places a hand on his shoulder, turning his attention back to her. “Kenji ran into the woods and YN followed him.” She explains.

The feeling of concern amplifies as his blood cools. Not the woods again. “When?” He snaps, a strike of lightning illuminating the sky. Yena sighs, glancing at the clock on the wall.

“About an hour ago,” She trails off, furrowing her brows together. “Sanemi, please, find them.” Without a second thought, he runs into the woods. A flash of when he was younger causes him to halt at the tree line. His heart is beating erratically in his chest as he stares through the trunks of thick forest. He’d been too scared to continue on back then, but you were probably frightened too. Who was he to love you if he couldn’t face your terror? It’s then that he lifts up his wrist to view the matching bracelet. He shakes off his nerves and starts jogging through the foliage.

The rain soaks through his shirt, slicking his hair to the side of his face. He had to find you. Just a week ago you nearly drowned on his watch because of a stupid bet and now you were lost in the woods during a strong storm. Were you trying to test his patience? No… you most likely ran after Kenji because of your inner child. Something wanted to heal that part of you. Being a child was difficult, especially when you were taught that emotions were wrong.

Sanemi can remember the way your mother screamed as he pulled you angrily by your arm. Her grip left marks on you, red splotches of hatred spanning your tiny arm. She was cursing, screeching about how much of an embarrassment you were, if you loved your father so much then why didn’t you go find him? She was a pure blur of her past demons boiling up into one entity – against her own daughter.

Now, he would plunge a sword through her heart and save you from the wild beast. Take you away somewhere safe. If only he’d understood more back then. It was all his fault. He had no right to have these feelings toward you when all he caused you was turmoil. Yet, he can’t help but see your smiling face, blushing cheeks, and sparkling eyes. The way you stop to smell the breeze of the lake. How joyful you are with the kids, genuinely caring for them. Your sassy remarks when he got too flirtatious with you. The way your lips felt against his in that blissful moment. He… truly loved you. Every ounce, curve, and flaw. “YN!” He screams, the beating of his heart echoing in his ears.

Sanemi wants to tell you everything, instead of running to someone else. This was between you and him. He couldn’t last another second without telling you how much you meant to him. “YN! Where are you!?” He’s scanning the treeline, worry creasing his brows.

You and Kenji still, then look at each other. “Is that Mister Sanemi?” He asks, eyes welling with tears again. You brush your thumb over his plump cheeks, soothing him.

It’s not helpful that your heart picks up its beating rate at the thought. Sanemi had come to find you – well you and Kenji. Regardless, you’re a little too happy about it. “Over here!” You scream, covering Kenji’s ears.

Sanemi’s heart thumps against his ribcage as he hears you scream back for him. He glances around his surroundings, his eyes finally landing on a hint of red in the distance. “Hold on! I’m coming!” He charges toward the area your voice came from.

He sees your face, a sloppy mess of tears and wet hair, and he wants to drop to his knees. “Thank goodness…” You whisper, letting Kenji run to hug Sanemi’s legs. His eyes are locked on your every movement, studying if you are okay.

“We need to get you back, I don’t think you could’ve made it out of the forest.” Sanemi holds Kenji’s hand, waiting for you to start following him. Something holds you back though, a sinking feeling of guilt or shame – you weren’t sure which.

You had cried and hidden away just like when you were younger. Sanemi didn’t come to save you… he came to prove a point. You were still just that little girl, running away from her problems. You’re silent the whole way back, emotions dancing with thoughts. Yena hugs you and then yells at you for running out without a map. Kenji is sent to get a check-up from Shinobu. Everything feels like it’s underwater, floating past you. Only when you’re in front of your cabin do you snap out of the daze, peering up at Sanemi. “You didn’t think I could make it out on my own…” You mutter. He turns to you, knitting his brows together. “I thought you were there to save me, but you were just there to prove that you could do it. It had nothing to do with me.” Your body feels frozen, numb even.

Sanemi opens the door to his room. “That’s not it at all. Just give me a moment and we can talk about this later.” He replies, closing his door behind him. Later huh? You didn’t want later. Now was later.

You rush to his door, swinging it open angrily. “No, you don’t get to walk away. We’re talking about this now.” You snap, taking in Sanemi without a shirt. Why did he always have no shirt on? You halt, mouth gaping.

He sighs, tossing his wet shirt into his hamper. “Fine, you want to talk, let’s talk. It was careless of you to just run after Kenji like that.” He hisses, motioning to you. “Do you know how worried everyone was? I understand why you did it, but what if something had happened to the both of you? What then YN?”

You march up to him, poking at his chest. “You don’t understand shit Sanemi! Kenji ran into the forest. What was I supposed to do? Stand there and wait for some big muscley man to go in and find him? I did what felt right and you cannot blame me for that!” Your voice is quaking, on the verge of tears.

Sanemi scoffs, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’m not blaming you! For fuck’s sake can you stop thinking that everyone is out to get you!? I am not your mother. I care about you and blame myself every fucking day for what happened back then.” Wow. Did he really just bring up your mother? A tormenting ache twists your gut, sucking up any energy you had left.

His nostrils are flaring and your body buzzes with a newfound heat. It’s anger, it’s sexual frustration, and its adrenaline all wrapped up into one. “Yeah well, you have a real funny way of showing how sorry you are. It’s so funny how you can kiss me one day and then act like nothing happened the next.” You laugh tightly and watch as his brows shoot up.

A sarcastic laugh bubbles out of his throat. “Unlike you, I don’t face everything head-on. I was terrified after I kissed you, because yes I kissed you. Do you have any idea how confusing it is to realize after all these years that I’m in love with you? Then to realize that I’ve fucked up so massively that there’s zero chance of anything ever happening?” He hisses, rolling his lips into a tight line after his confession. This wasn’t how he pictured telling you, but at least it was out there now for you to hear.

Your body tenses, staring at Sanemi with wild eyes. Love? He was in love with you? It was like a slap in the face and a warm blanket at the same time. “Then fucking change my mind,” You order.

Sanemi’s eyes widen and his throat bobs with nerves. “Y’know I love it when you get bossy,” He whispers, grabbing your face with gentle vigor. The kiss starts off soft and genuine. Your hands travel into his soft hair, moaning lightly against his lips when his hands find their way to your ass. That’s when something animalistic awakens in the both of you. Sanemi spins you around and walks you back against the wall, pressing his knee between your legs. You groan through your mouth at the lovely pressure.

His lips work against yours, deepening the kiss into something feral and needy. “God, I want you.” You huff out between a break. You feel a cocky smirk on your neck where Sanemi nips at the junction of your shoulder. All those times you imagined the quick peck between you both was nothing compared to this. Kissing Sanemi was like pouring hot magma onto a frozen lake. Your body was alive with pinpricks of electricity.

You peer down, shakily watching him explore the planes of your body. This was all too much. He was someone you cherished, someone you hated… someone you – was it possible for you to even love someone? You care deeply for your friends, the kids, and this camp… but love? It's something so deep, so pure that it transcends everything. Did you love Sanemi Shinazugawa or were you crushing on him? The line was thin, but at the same time a cavern impossible to jump over. “Hey hey hey, where did you drift off to?” His voice breaks you out of the daze you were in. Your eyes blink up to meet his, soft and beautiful.

His warm hand reaches up to cup your cheek. “Do you need me to stop? I got caught up in my own selfish desires…” He trails off, looking away bashfully. Huh? Was this gruff man actually…adorable?

Leaning into his hand you shake your head. “I was just thinking about insecurities,” You laugh, meeting his gaze. Sanemi’s face softens and for once you wish your home life had been different. There were times you were grateful that what happened to you made you stronger, more resilient to people’s bullshit. Spinning it into a postive made you think less about the trauma. Now… you want to be something soft Sanemi can mold with his love. You yearn to fall into his blanketed warmth where somehow you’d be safe. “But I’m better now.” You finish, realizing all at once that it didn’t matter if you loved him, because you could love him. Love was something you were able to feel, eventually, that is. He could teach you. “Sanemi, I really like you… do you think – do you think we could continue kissing?”

An airy laugh blows through his nose as he guides you into a sitting positon on his bed. “M’course, just let me know if you want to stop.” His eyes light up micheviously, bending down to peck your lips teasingly. He sinks to his knees, sliding his hands down your outter thighs.

Sanemi was never someone you thought would stun you into silence, but as his gaze drops to the apex of your legs it suddenly becomes hard to speak. “What? Got no smart ass response?” He glances smugly up at you, rolling his tongue over his lips. Instead of replying you spread your legs apart for him. Your action brings his longing attention back to your clothed pussy, which clamps on nothing. “Mmm, I guess your body can do enough speaking,” He hooks a finger into your shorts, pulling them down your waist. “S’pretty.” He hisses, reveling in the way your panties cling to the dampness of your cunt. “All mine,” He’s muttering to himself like a mad man and maybe he was, but it brings a flush to your cheeks.

You squirm to fling your short to the side of his room, wiggling out of your underwear next. He watches like he’ll die if he looks away. “Sanemi I can’t hold back, please, I need you to do something.” You give him enough room to stay between your legs. His smirk worries you only slightly.

He stands, the girth of his cock outlined in his pants. “Just remember you asked for this. We’ll have plenty of time to take it slow later, but right now I can’t wait anymore either.” His eyes are a dark brooding purple as he slips the belt out of its loops smoothly. It’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever witnessed. Your childhood friend was about to fuck your brains out and the fact that you’d been fighting only made the tension in the room that much thicker.

Sanemi’s cock is longer than anyone you’d been with before and you can’t seem to look away from it. How the head weeps and is blush pink with untouched desire. He’s barely holding on, but the weight of reality slaps you across the face. “Do you have a condom?” You quip and he freezes. His cheeks blush as he glances at his nightstand.

“Can’t think why I wouldn’t pack condoms coming to a job where I’ve never had sex before…fuck. I can stop if you want to, I wouldn’t dare-”

“Sanemi, I could care less. Right now all I want is you. We’ll figure it out together.” You grab the back of his neck to bring him in for a kiss. As his lips work against yours he lines himself up at your entrance, brushing the head of his cock against the slick of your arousal. He hisses into your mouth as the tip slips into your warmth. A shaky moan echoes through both of you as you push your foreheads together to watch his cock slide into your pretty pussy.

You blow out a breath, throwing your head back in utter bliss. Sanemi fills you out beautifully, stretching your walls just enough to send shivers up your spine. “You feel perfect…you’re perfect,” Sanemi kisses you, slowly starting to move his hips. The muscles in your stomach tense with a hot iron of pressure.

“Haa, Sanemi, please,” You begin but he snaps his hips into yours. A loud slap of skin rattles through his room. Your eyes go wide and a sharp gasp pushes through your body.

He grins over you, sliding back on his knees and bringing you with him. “Mmm, shh babygirl, m’gonna take care of you.” He strings your legs over his hips, rocking you on his cock.

Moans burst from your mouth as you cling to his neck. “F’ Sanemi,” You gasp, his cock plunging deeper into your pussy than the previous postion.

“That’s it, let go pretty girl,” Sanemi burrows into you, a fucked out grin coating his lips. You feel like you’re almost split in two, but the sting bleeds into a sharp pleasurable throb. It radiates through your core, spreading tingles across your skin. Your head lolls to the side a bolt of electricity twisting around your stomach, coating it in the crashing waves of your climax. You’re both panting as Sanemi fucks into you, gripping your hips onto him.

The overstimulation makes you squirm on top of him, but he chaces his own crest, finally finding it when you grip the back of his head, fisting his hair. Warm cum coats your insides, Sanemi gently laying you back down on the mattress. You feel gooey inside, but there’s a silent happiness that brings a smile to your face.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, I promise next time I’ll last longer- I, I…shit let me go get you a rag.” Sanemi pushes himself up on his elbows but you caress his cheek, calming the anxious glaze in his eyes.

“No, stay.” He’d finally found you… and you weren’t about to let him out of your sight for a long long time.

686 notes · View notes

novaursa · 10 months ago

Note

Reader husband with either Rhaenyra / Alicent their dynamic with the kids. R is a strict but good father and husband, unlike most.

The King's Heart

- Summary: You spend some time with your beloved wife and children.

- Pairing: male!reader/Alicent Hightower

- Note: The reader is the only male heir of the late King Viserys I Targaryen and the late Queen Aemma Arryn and rightful heir to the Iron Throne. The reader is one married to Alicent Hightower, Viserys never married her.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @literaturedog

The heavy, wooden doors to the royal gardens creak open as you step through, the sun casting long silhouettes against the courtyard. A warm, late afternoon light spills across the stone pathways, dappling the greenery with soft gold. The scent of roses and jasmine fills the air, carried by a light breeze that tugs at the edge of your cloak. Your gaze sweeps across the scene in front of you, and your heart swells with pride as you spot them—your children, your blood, the very legacy you’ve fought so fiercely to protect.

Aegon, tall and broad-shouldered even at his young age, stands at the far end of the garden, his brow furrowed in concentration as he practices his swordplay against a wooden target. Each swing of his blade is purposeful, powerful, as though he’s determined to prove his worth. Though you’ve never voiced it outright, Aegon has always sought your approval. You see it in his eyes, the way he stands straighter when you enter the room, the way he sharpens his skill day after day. You’ve never doubted him, though you suspect he doesn’t fully realize it.

Further down, Aemond watches from a distance, his one remaining eye sharp and attentive. He idolizes you, that much is clear, and in many ways, he is more like you than Aegon. His focus, his determination—it mirrors your own. Aemond has always been the quieter one, absorbing everything in his surroundings, learning through observation before springing into action.

Closer to the fountain, Helaena sits on a stone bench, her delicate hands gently guiding a dragonfly that flutters on her palm. You smile softly as you watch her. She’s always had a fascination with creatures, small and strange, and you have a soft spot for her gentleness. She is your only daughter, your precious little girl, and though she is growing, you still find yourself drawn to her innocence, to her gentle spirit that is so unlike the rest of the world around you.

And then there’s Daeron, your youngest, bounding across the lawn with a joy only children seem to possess. He’s chasing after a butterfly, his laughter light and infectious. In him, you see the future—full of life, untamed, and filled with potential. He is still your little dragon, no matter how quickly he grows.

As you walk towards them, your presence is immediately noticed. Aegon lowers his sword and stands straighter, chest rising and falling from the exertion. Aemond’s eye flickers in your direction, though he remains still, ever watchful. Helaena lifts her head, her lips curving into a soft smile, and Daeron, upon seeing you, abandons his pursuit of the butterfly entirely and runs toward you.

“Father!” Daeron’s voice rings out, his arms outstretched. You kneel just in time to catch him, lifting him effortlessly into your arms. He wraps his small arms around your neck, and you chuckle softly, holding him close.

“There’s my little dragon,” you murmur against his ear before setting him down gently. His eyes, wide and bright, look up at you with unabashed admiration.

“I almost caught the butterfly,” Daeron announces, puffing his chest out with pride.

You smile down at him, ruffling his hair. “Next time, I’ve no doubt you will.”

Aegon approaches, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He stands before you, sword still in hand, waiting for your assessment. You place a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension there.

“You’ve been practicing hard, Aegon,” you say, your voice firm but not unkind. “I can see your improvement.”

Aegon’s posture loosens slightly, a flicker of relief crossing his face. “I want to be ready, Father. To be worthy of our name.”

You nod, understanding the weight that rests on his shoulders. “You already are worthy, Aegon. But remember, strength is not only in the sword. It is in wisdom, in patience. The truest kings are those who know when not to strike.”

Aegon’s expression shifts, thoughtful now. He nods once, a sign that he understands, or at least is trying to.

Nearby, Aemond finally approaches, standing quietly beside his brother. You turn your attention to him, offering a small smile. “And you, Aemond? Have you been keeping up with your studies?”

Aemond nods, his voice quiet but steady. “Yes, Father. I’ve been reading the histories, as you instructed. And the maps.”

You place a hand on his shoulder as well, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Good. Knowledge is as valuable a weapon as any blade. One day, you will need both.”

Aemond’s eye gleams with pride at your words, and though he says little, you can see the fire burning within him—the same fire that burns within you.

As the evening settles in, you make your way toward Helaena, who has remained on the bench, her eyes following the dragonfly as it finally flits away. She looks up as you approach, her smile serene.

“Father,” she greets softly, her voice like a whisper in the breeze.

You sit beside her, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “What have you found today, my love?”

She glances toward the garden, her gaze faraway for a moment. “A dragonfly. They always come here in the late afternoon. They’re drawn to the light, I think.”

You smile at her musings, ever the dreamer. “Much like you, my dear. Always seeking the light.”

Helaena leans her head against your shoulder, and you wrap an arm around her, holding her close. Though you are King, though you hold the weight of the realm on your shoulders, moments like this remind you that your true legacy lies here, with them.

As the day winds down, you gather them all near, your four children—your pride, your joy. They chatter amongst themselves, even Aegon and Aemond, whose competitive natures often keep them at odds, are peaceful in this moment.

From the shadows of the gardens, you see Alicent approaching, her presence as regal as ever, her gaze softening as it falls upon you and the children. She steps closer, her hand resting gently on your shoulder as she stands behind you.

“They’re happy,” she says softly, her voice laced with warmth.

You glance up at her, your heart swelling with affection. “They have every reason to be. They are our future, Alicent.”

She smiles, her eyes shining with love for you. “And they are fortunate to have you as their father.”

You reach up to take her hand, squeezing it gently. “And I am fortunate to have you.”

For a moment, the world beyond the garden walls fades away—the pressures of the crown, the duties of the realm—and all that remains is your family, the heart of your life. You pull Alicent down to sit beside you, her hand still in yours, as the children laugh and play around you.

In this moment, you are not a king, not a ruler. You are simply a father, a husband, a man surrounded by those he loves. And that, above all else, is what truly matters.

#house of the dragon #hotd x male reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd x you #alicent x y/n #alicent x you #alicent x reader #alicent hightower #alicent x male reader #hotd

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aspenmissing · 5 months ago

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ᴅʀᴜɴᴋᴇɴ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 6907 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴅʀᴜɴᴋɴᴇꜱꜱ, ʙᴇɪɴɢ ꜱɪᴄᴋ (ᴊɪɴx'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ), ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴀɢᴇ ᴅʀɪɴᴋɪɴɢ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʟᴄᴏʜᴏʟ

JAYCE

The moon hung high over Piltover, casting a soft, silvery glow on the cobblestone streets, illuminating the winding pathways with a quiet elegance. The usually bustling city was now serene, its streets void of the usual chatter and clatter. The only sound breaking the stillness was the occasional burst of laughter from Jayce and Y/N as they staggered along, arms entwined for both balance and affection. Their cheeks were flushed—partly from the brisk night air, but mostly from the abundance of wine they had indulged in during their dinner date.

“Shhh!” Jayce whispered, or rather attempted to whisper, though his voice was far louder than intended. He stopped abruptly, pressing a finger to his lips with a mock-serious expression, nearly sending both of them tumbling as he swayed on his feet. “We’re being sneaky!”

“Sneaky?” Y/N echoed, her words breaking into a fit of giggles. She clutched his arm for balance as they stumbled over a slightly uneven step. “You just tripped over your own foot, Jayce. That’s not sneaky; that’s clumsy.”

“I was testing gravity,” he retorted, puffing out his chest as if the statement was a brilliant scientific revelation. “It still works. Very well, I might add.”

“Brilliant, Professor Talis,” Y/N teased, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm as she poked him lightly in the chest. “You’ve outdone yourself. Truly ground-breaking stuff.”

Their laughter echoed softly as they finally reached the door to their shared flat. Jayce fumbled with his coat pockets, his brow furrowing in exaggerated concentration as he attempted to retrieve the key. He dropped it once, twice, each time groaning in frustration while Y/N leaned against the doorframe, barely able to contain her laughter.

“Give it here,” she said, snatching the key from his grasp. “At this rate, we’ll be sleeping in the hallway.” She inserted the key and unlocked the door with ease, pushing it open as Jayce stumbled in after her.

The moment they were inside, chaos ensued. Jayce kicked off his boots with gusto, missing the shoe rack entirely and sending one flying across the room, where it landed with a dull thud against the wall. Y/N shrugged off her coat, aiming for a nearby chair, but it slid off onto the floor in a crumpled heap.

“You’re terrible at tidying up,” Jayce remarked with mock disapproval, gesturing vaguely at her coat.

“Oh, and you’re a model of organisation?” Y/N shot back, pointing to his abandoned boot, now lying lopsided against the skirting board.

They made their way to the bedroom, leaning heavily on each other for support. The journey felt like an adventure, every step punctuated by giggles and playful jabs. Once they reached the bed, the real struggle began.

Y/N tugged at Jayce’s tie, which seemed to have taken on a life of its own, stubbornly refusing to loosen. “Why do you need a tie, anyway?” she grumbled, her fingers fumbling with the knot.

“To look professional,” Jayce replied, his tone mockingly dignified. “You never know when you’ll need to give an impromptu lecture on… gravity.”

“Right, because you’re the leading expert on falling over,” she teased, finally freeing the tie and tossing it across the room.

Meanwhile, Jayce was engaged in his own battle with the buttons on her blouse. “Why do you need so many buttons?” he muttered, squinting at the fabric as if it were a complex puzzle.

“It’s fashion,” Y/N replied with a grin, watching his increasingly frustrated attempts.

“It’s a nightmare,” he shot back, laughing as he finally managed to undo one button, only to realise there were several more to go.

They were a tangle of limbs and laughter as Jayce tripped over the edge of the bed, collapsing onto it with a dramatic groan. He reached out instinctively, pulling Y/N down with him. They landed in a heap, their laughter echoing in the small room.

“We’re a mess,” Y/N said breathlessly, propping herself up on her elbows to look down at him. Her hair fell in soft waves around her face, framing her amused expression.

“The best kind of mess,” Jayce replied, his voice warm and affectionate as he reached up to brush a strand of hair away from her face. His fingers lingered, tracing the curve of her cheek.

Their laughter faded, replaced by a quiet intimacy that made the world outside feel like a distant memory. Y/N leaned down, her lips brushing his in a tender, lingering kiss. It was soft at first, filled with warmth and affection, but it deepened as their shared love and passion ignited.

Somehow, they managed to shed the rest of their clothes, leaving them in a haphazard pile on the floor—a testament to their clumsy but endearing coordination. Crawling under the blankets, they entwined themselves in each other, Jayce wrapping an arm around Y/N and pulling her close.

“Remind me,” Y/N murmured sleepily, her head resting on his chest, “to never drink that much again.”

Jayce chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “Deal,” he said softly. “But only if we can have more nights like this.”

The room was quiet save for the sound of their soft breathing, the moonlight streaming through the window casting a silvery glow over their intertwined forms. And as sleep claimed them both, their hearts beat in perfect harmony, a silent promise of many more nights filled with love, laughter, and the occasional glass of wine.

VIKTOR

The soft glow of lamplight spilled over the modest living room of the shared flat. Viktor sat on the worn but comfortable couch, a book resting in his lap. The faint hum of the city outside filtered through the window, but inside, it was quiet save for the occasional creak of the floorboards as he shifted his weight. His cane leaned against the armrest within easy reach, a silent companion in his vigil.

His sharp, golden eyes flickered between the pages of the book, though his focus had been slipping for some time. The words blurred together, overshadowed by the ticking of the clock on the wall. Y/N had promised to be back by ten. It was now well past eleven. He told himself he wasn’t worried—Y/N was perfectly capable of handling herself. She was strong, resourceful, and more than adept at navigating the bustling streets of Piltover. And yet, as the minutes stretched into hours, worry gnawed at the edges of his thoughts.

With a soft sigh, he closed the book, the leather cover resting against his lap as he absently rubbed at his leg to ease the persistent ache. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he glanced at the clock once more, willing it to move faster or stop entirely. Anything to quiet the unease building in his chest.

The sound of the door creaking open broke his reverie. His head snapped up, and relief flooded his features, quickly tempered by a mix of exasperation and amusement as he took in the sight before him. Y/N stumbled through the entrance, her coat half hanging off her shoulder, her bag slipping from her grasp. Her hair was slightly tousled, and a sheepish, slightly tipsy grin plastered across her flushed face. She kicked the door shut with her heel, clearly trying to steady herself as she swayed slightly in place.

“Y/N,” Viktor greeted, his voice calm but tinged with concern as he set the book aside. “You’re late.”

She blinked at him, momentarily startled, before her lips curved into a lopsided smile. “Hi, love,” she said, her words just a touch slurred. “Didn’t mean to be. Time got away from me.”

She bent to take off her shoes, nearly tumbling over in the process. One of her shoes slid across the floor and knocked into the umbrella stand with a soft clatter. Viktor let out a soft, weary sigh, pushing himself up from the couch with the help of his cane.

“I see,” he said, his tone dry but affectionate. “And how many glasses of wine helped you lose track of time?”

“Not that many,” she replied defensively, though the faint sway in her step betrayed her. “Just... a few. Maybe more.”

He made his way towards her slowly, the tap of his cane against the wooden floor punctuating his steps. When he reached her, he placed a steadying hand on her arm, his expression softening as he looked into her glassy, slightly unfocused eyes. “Come, sit down before you fall down,” he said gently, guiding her towards the couch.

Y/N plopped onto the cushion with a dramatic sigh, leaning her head against the backrest as she looked up at him with adoring eyes. “You waited up for me.”

“Of course I did,” Viktor replied, lowering himself onto the couch beside her with a slight wince as he adjusted his leg. “Do you expect me to sleep peacefully knowing you’re wandering about at odd hours?”

She chuckled softly, reaching out to brush her fingers over his. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Perhaps,” he said with a small shrug, his hand closing around hers. “But someone has to ensure you don’t get yourself into trouble.”

Her smile softened, and she leaned her head against his shoulder, her earlier playfulness giving way to quiet contentment. “I love you, Viktor.”

“And I, you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

He shifted slightly, his gaze moving to her flushed cheeks and the faint tiredness in her eyes. “Wait here,” he said softly, pulling himself to his feet with the help of his cane. “You’ve had too much to drink. You need water before you sleep.”

Y/N pouted, slumping back against the couch. “I don’t need—”

“Yes, you do,” he interrupted, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Unless you want to feel miserable tomorrow morning.”

She huffed but didn’t argue further, watching as he moved towards the kitchen. A few moments later, he returned with a glass of water, carefully setting it on the small table in front of her before lowering himself back onto the couch.

“Drink,” he instructed, nudging the glass closer.

Y/N picked it up reluctantly, taking a few sips before pausing. Viktor raised an eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes playfully before taking a longer drink. “Happy now?” she asked, setting the empty glass down with a satisfied clink.

“Immensely,” he replied, his tone dry but warm. He took her hand once more, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as she leaned against him again.

“Now, rest,” he said softly. “Tomorrow, when you complain about your headache, I will remind you of this moment and say, ‘I told you so.’”

She laughed softly, the sound muffled as she buried her face against his shoulder. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you love me,” he countered, his voice tinged with amusement.

Her laughter faded into a quiet hum of agreement as her eyes fluttered shut, his steady presence and the rhythmic sound of his breath lulling her into a peaceful haze.

JAYVIK

The grand hall of Piltover shimmered with warm, golden light, the crystal chandeliers casting glittering reflections onto polished marble floors. Tables adorned with delicate white linens and ornate centrepieces of vibrant flowers created an air of sophistication, while the hum of conversation blended with the soft strains of a string quartet. Tonight, the city’s brightest minds and most influential figures had gathered to celebrate the unveiling of Jayce and Viktor’s latest invention—a revolutionary energy source hailed as the dawn of a new era for Piltover.

For Y/N, however, tonight was much more personal. As she stood near a grand, arching window, a flute of sparkling wine in hand, she gazed across the room at Jayce and Viktor, her heart swelling with pride. Jayce’s warm, confident smile as he shook hands with Councillor Medarda, Viktor’s composed demeanour as he fielded questions from a group of eager engineers—she loved them both fiercely. They had poured their hearts, minds, and countless sleepless nights into this invention, and now the world was finally recognising their brilliance.

The soft blush on her cheeks was partly due to the wine she’d been sipping throughout the evening, but mostly it was from sheer adoration. Unable to contain herself any longer, she set her glass down momentarily and strode purposefully toward a pair of councillors who were deep in conversation.

“Did you know,” she began, cutting through their polite chatter with a voice brimming with enthusiasm, “that Jayce is the best inventor in all of Piltover? Truly, it’s almost unfair. He’s got muscles and brains! Isn’t that just so unfair?” She punctuated her words with a sweeping gesture, the movement causing her wine to slosh dangerously close to the rim.

The councillors, momentarily startled, quickly masked their surprise with amused smiles. “Well,” one of them replied with a chuckle, “Jayce Talis is certainly a man of many talents.”

Across the room, Jayce, having overheard her, groaned good-naturedly, running a hand through his hair. He cast a glance at Viktor, who stood beside him with his cane in hand. “She’s reached that stage,” Jayce muttered, though the affection in his voice was unmistakable.

Viktor’s lips twitched into a soft smile, his amber eyes briefly following Y/N as she animatedly spoke to the councillors. “Let her have her moment,” he said, leaning lightly on his cane. “She is proud of us. I find it… endearing.”

Y/N, meanwhile, had moved on to a group of researchers, her energy undiminished. “And Viktor!” she exclaimed, her voice carrying over the murmur of the crowd. “Do you know how incredible he is? He’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. Honestly, he’s a genius. And his accent? Perfect. I could listen to him talk all day!”

Her unrestrained praise drew a mixture of chuckles and raised eyebrows from the researchers, but Y/N remained oblivious, too caught up in her adoration. Viktor, who was within earshot, felt a flush creep up his neck, and he coughed lightly, trying to compose himself.

“You’re blushing,” Jayce teased with a grin, clapping Viktor on the shoulder.

“She is… enthusiastic,” Viktor murmured, though the corners of his mouth curved upward in spite of himself.

After a few more minutes of Y/N’s spirited declarations, Jayce decided it was time to intervene. Approaching her with a warm smile, he gently took the half-empty glass from her hand. “Alright, love,” he said softly, “I think you’ve dazzled everyone here enough for one night.”

“But I’m not done!” Y/N protested, leaning into him with a dramatic pout. She clung to his arm as she began to ramble. “I haven’t told everyone about the time Viktor stayed up all night reading me poetry because I couldn’t sleep! Or how Jayce fixed the chair I broke when I fell off it trying to hang up decorations—oh! And there was that time when—”

“Let’s get you home,” Viktor interjected smoothly, stepping to her other side and looping her arm around his. His tone was calm but affectionate. “You can tell us all of this on the way. We promise to listen.”

Y/N let out a contented hum as they guided her out of the grand hall, her head resting on Jayce’s broad shoulder while Viktor steadied her from the other side. The cool night air greeted them as they stepped outside, and Y/N tilted her head up to look at the stars, her voice growing softer. “You two are the best,” she murmured, her words slurring slightly. “I love you both so much. You’re my whole world, you know that?”

By the time they arrived back at their shared home—a cosy apartment filled with books, blueprints, and the occasional potted plant—Y/N was teetering on the edge of sleep. Jayce carefully scooped her up in his strong arms, carrying her toward the bedroom as Viktor followed, pausing to set down her shoes and drape her coat over a chair.

Jayce laid her gently on the bed, brushing a strand of hair away from her face as she blinked up at him with a sleepy smile. “You really know how to make an impression, don’t you?” he teased softly.

“She does,” Viktor agreed, easing himself down onto the other side of the bed and taking her hand in his. “Though I cannot say I mind. She is… remarkable.”

Y/N cracked an eye open, her gaze flitting between the two of them. “I meant every word,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re both amazing. And I’m so, so proud of you.”

They leaned in, each pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “We’re proud of you too,” Jayce whispered.

“And grateful,” Viktor added, his voice tinged with warmth.

Y/N drifted off not long after, her breathing evening out as she snuggled between them. Jayce wrapped a protective arm around her waist, his fingers brushing against Viktor’s as they rested lightly on her other side. The faint hum of Piltover’s nightlife filtered through the window, but within their little sanctuary, everything was quiet, warm, and perfect.

In that moment, as they lay together, the weight of the world outside faded away. All that mattered was the love they shared—a love that was as enduring as it was extraordinary.

VANDER

The Last Drop was lively tonight, filled with the hum of chatter, bursts of laughter, and the occasional clinking of glasses. The dim, golden glow of the lanterns hanging from the ceiling gave the place its signature warm, welcoming feel, despite the rough crowd. Vander and Y/N moved seamlessly behind the bar, their dynamic as familiar as the well-worn grooves on the floorboards.

Vander poured drinks with his usual ease, his warm, fatherly smile softening even the toughest patrons. Meanwhile, Y/N weaved through the tables with an effortless charm, collecting empty mugs, exchanging quick banter, and offering advice to anyone who needed it. Together, they were the heart of the establishment, a steady presence amidst the chaos of the Undercity.

In the corner, Vi, Mylo, Powder, Claggor, and Ekko huddled together at a table, playing an increasingly noisy game of cards. Powder’s giggles punctuated the louder bursts of laughter from Vi and Mylo, while Claggor and Ekko exchanged resigned glances whenever the noise grew too loud.

“They’re being surprisingly well-behaved,” Vander remarked, glancing over his shoulder at the group as he wiped down the bar.

Y/N smirked knowingly, folding her arms as she leaned against the counter. “For now. But you know those two can’t resist stirring up trouble for long.”

Vander chuckled. “True enough. Let’s hope they don’t burn the place down.”

As the evening wore on and the crowd began to thin, the children’s whispers grew more conspiratorial. Powder leaned in close, trying to stifle her laughter as Vi and Mylo hatched their plan.

“That’s a terrible idea,” Claggor muttered, watching with a sceptical expression as Vi reached for a bottle of Vander’s prized brew, tucked carelessly at the edge of the bar earlier in the night.

“Relax,” Mylo replied with a devilish grin, swiping the bottle. “It’s just a sip. Vander and Y/N won’t even notice.”

Powder scrunched up her nose. “I don’t think we’re supposed to…”

“Don’t be a baby,” Vi cut in, shooting her a wink as she uncorked the bottle. The faint scent of alcohol wafted into the air.

“This is such a bad idea,” Ekko muttered under his breath, scooting his chair back slightly. “If they get caught, I wasn’t here.”

Ignoring the protests, Vi poured two small cups of the amber liquid and handed one to Mylo. They exchanged a mischievous grin.

“To being legends,” Vi whispered.

“To not getting caught,” Mylo replied with a snicker.

The two clinked their cups together in a hushed “Cheers!” before tipping them back. The moment the alcohol hit their tongues, both Vi and Mylo recoiled, coughing and sputtering.

“This is disgusting!” Vi hissed, sticking out her tongue and grimacing.

Mylo wiped his mouth with his sleeve, his face contorted in an expression of betrayal. “You’re just weak!” he managed to choke out, though his watery eyes said otherwise.

Powder burst into uncontrollable giggles, clutching her sides. Claggor shook his head, muttering, “Told you so.”

Ekko sighed, leaning back in his chair. “You two are hopeless.”

From across the room, Vander caught the sound of suspicious giggles and turned to Y/N. “They’re up to something,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes.

Y/N tilted her head, following his gaze. Her sharp eyes spotted the bottle on the table and Vi’s poorly concealed coughing fit. She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Oh, they wouldn’t dare…”

The two approached the table quietly, their footsteps masked by the hum of the room. They arrived just in time to see Mylo attempting to pour himself another drink, his hand shaking slightly from the lingering burn.

“Well, well,” Vander said, crossing his arms over his chest. His voice was calm, but the disappointment was unmistakable. “Care to explain why my best brew is halfway gone?”

Vi froze mid-cough, her face a perfect picture of guilt. Mylo nearly dropped the bottle, scrambling to look innocent.

Powder, Claggor, and Ekko sat wide-eyed, clearly uninvolved but equally terrified of being lumped in with the culprits.

Y/N placed a hand on her hip, suppressing a smile. “I warned you two about getting into trouble. Now, what’s the story?”

Vi stammered, “It—it was his idea!”

“Hey!” Mylo protested, pointing at her. “You poured the drinks!”

“Enough,” Vander said, his tone firm but not harsh. “The two of you are going to regret that decision tomorrow.”

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. “I think they already do.”

As the excitement waned, Powder, Claggor, and Ekko headed upstairs to bed, Ekko claiming a small cot in the corner of the shared room. Meanwhile, Vi and Mylo, now groggy and embarrassed, slumped over the table, their heads resting on their folded arms.

“They’re out,” Vander observed, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “Lightweights.”

Y/N laughed quietly, running a hand through her hair. “Come on, big guy. Let’s get them to bed before they drool all over the table.”

Vander scooped up Mylo effortlessly, slinging him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Y/N carefully lifted Vi, who mumbled something unintelligible in her sleep and instinctively leaned into her chest.

The two carried the children upstairs to their shared room, the wooden floor creaking softly under their steps. They tucked them into their beds with practised care, pulling the threadbare blankets up to their chins.

In the dim light of the room, Y/N paused, brushing a stray strand of hair from Vi’s face. “They’re trouble, but they’re ours,” she whispered.

Vander stood beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They lingered for a moment in the doorway, the soft rise and fall of the children’s breaths filling the room with a comforting rhythm. Y/N leaned into Vander, her head resting against his shoulder as his arm draped securely around her waist. A faint smile played on both their lips, the quiet chaos of the night giving way to a peaceful stillness. With one last glance at the sleeping children, they turned and headed back downstairs, hand in hand, ready to lock up and steal a moment for themselves before the next day brought its challenges.

SILCO

It was a typical night in the Last Drop, the pulsating rhythm of the music vibrating through the air, blending with the clinking of glass and the sharp, familiar scent of cheap booze and sweat. The dimly lit bar was crowded as usual, the patrons lost in their own drunken revelries, each one lost in their own world, moving to the music or arguing over a lost bet. Y/N sat at the bar, a drink swirling lazily in her fingers, her eyes scanning the room with casual amusement. She’d always enjoyed the chaos of this place—the unrestrained energy, the noise, the people who never knew when to stop. But tonight, something felt different. Something drew her deeper into the disarray, the tension in the air far more enticing than usual.

Silco, on the other hand, was far removed from the revelry. Perched in his office upstairs, his sharp eyes scanned documents, the weight of Zaun's struggles bearing down on him. His mind was occupied, his thoughts heavy with the rising tension in the undercity. The quiet hum of his thoughts was only briefly interrupted by a fleeting thought of Y/N. What was she doing tonight?

Down in the bar, a dispute broke out. Words turned to heated arguments, and soon enough, fists were flying. The sound of chairs scraping across the floor, followed by angry shouts, filtered through the air. Y/N, who had been observing the scene from her seat at the bar, smirked to herself. A grin tugged at her lips, the kind of smile that meant she was more than just an observer—she was about to get involved.

Curiosity won over her desire to stay out of the fight. With a languid grace, she slid off her stool and made her way toward the centre of the action. She wasn’t one to back away from trouble, and tonight, it seemed trouble was eager to find her.

"What's going on here?" she asked aloud, her voice laced with amusement as she eyed the squabbling groups.

Without hesitation, she grabbed a nearby bottle, smashing it over the head of one of the fighters. The sound of glass shattering sent a ripple of laughter through the crowd, and for a moment, she enjoyed the chaos, watching as the fight escalated into a full-blown brawl. Fists flew, bottles crashed, and the already rowdy crowd cheered louder with each violent exchange. The energy in the room was electric, intoxicating.

Upstairs, Silco’s sharp ears caught the distant rumblings of chaos, his concentration breaking for a brief moment. His frown deepened as he recognised the source of the disturbance. The Last Drop was rarely quiet, but tonight’s noise was different—louder, wilder.

"Sevika," he called, his voice cool but firm, turning his attention to his ever-loyal enforcer.

"Yes, boss?" Sevika responded, her sharp eyes already trained on him.

"Downstairs. Now," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Sevika didn’t question him. Nodding once, she followed him as they descended the stairs, the low murmur of the bar growing louder with each step. Silco’s eyes scanned the room, searching for the source of the disturbance. And then he saw her—Y/N. In the heart of the mayhem, laughing as she effortlessly dispatched one thug after another with a smirk that bordered on dangerous. She was enjoying herself, far more than he would have liked.

A slow, controlled frown curled on Silco's lips as he moved through the crowd, his eyes narrowing. He wasn’t surprised that she was in the thick of it. What did surprise him was how she seemed to thrive in the chaos, completely unbothered by the threat of danger.

"Enough!" Silco’s voice rang out across the bar, sharp and commanding, cutting through the noise with ease. The crowd hesitated, but Y/N didn’t stop. She was too caught up in the fun.

Sevika, who had been standing by, stepped forward with her usual stoic presence. Pushing through the crowd, she reached Y/N’s side and grabbed her arm with a firm grip, stopping her mid-swing.

"Time to go," Sevika ordered, her tone authoritative, but Y/N simply laughed and wrenched herself free from Sevika’s grasp, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Not yet, Sevi," Y/N teased, a wink thrown Silco’s way as she caught her breath. "I’m just getting started."

Silco’s eyes darkened, and his gaze was unwavering as he took another step forward, his voice lowering but gaining more weight with each word. "Y/N," he began, a strange mix of frustration and something else in his tone. "Enough. Come with me. Now."

Her playful expression faltered for just a moment, and Y/N realised the shift in his mood. She could hear the danger in his voice, the unspoken authority that told her he wasn’t asking. It wasn’t often he used that tone with her. Her lips curled into a reluctant smile as she sighed dramatically, her defiance slowly melting away in the face of Silco’s intensity.

"Alright, alright," she said, her hands lifting in mock surrender. "You win, boss."

With a final glance at the mess she’d stirred up, Y/N allowed Silco to take her by the arm and guide her through the now quieter bar. Sevika, ever the protector, cleared a path through the crowd with ease, her imposing frame making way for Silco and Y/N to pass.

Once they reached the staircase, Silco’s grip on Y/N tightened slightly, his eyes still focused on her, not saying a word as they ascended. The quiet creak of the stairs under their feet was the only sound breaking the silence between them, the weight of his gaze heavy on Y/N’s shoulders.

In their room, Silco shut the door behind them, his gaze never leaving her face.

"That was reckless," he began, his voice a mix of coldness and something softer, a rare edge of concern creeping through. "You’re mine to protect, not to throw yourself into the mess like that."

Y/N smirked, unfazed by his chastisement as she stepped closer, her fingers brushing lightly against his chest, a teasing glint in her eyes. "I didn’t hurt anyone," she teased, her voice low and playful. "But I can tell you didn’t like it."

Silco’s eyes darkened further, and without warning, his hand moved to grip her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. His thumb traced her jawline, his expression hardening. "You think I don’t like it?" His voice was a low growl now. "I hate it. I hate seeing you like that—seeing you in danger, especially when you thrive on it."

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart racing despite the bravado in her tone. "I’m not a child, Silco. I can take care of myself."

His gaze softened for a brief moment, his thumb brushing over her lip before his hand dropped. "I know you can," he murmured, his voice softer now. "But that doesn’t mean I won’t step in when I see fit."

Without another word, Silco pulled her into his arms, the tension between them melting away as he kissed her deeply. His lips were hungry, desperate in a way that spoke of more than just control—it was a bond that had formed, an unspoken understanding between them that neither of them could deny.

For now, the chaos of the Last Drop was far behind them. All that mattered was the quiet that enveloped them, the world outside forgotten as they found solace in one another.

POWDER/JINX

It was a late evening in the depths of Zaun, the air thick with the scent of iron and oil, the city's pulse reverberating through every alley and crevice. Jinx had found herself stumbling home after a night of reckless drinking, her mind a blur of flashing lights, the deafening sounds of destruction she'd caused, and the deep, overwhelming loneliness that clung to her like a shadow. Her steps were slow, each one dragging more than the last. Her usual manic energy had fizzled out, the weight of the alcohol and her self-imposed isolation settling in around her like a suffocating fog.

By the time she reached the door, she was more than a little disoriented. She fumbled with her keys, barely managing to slide one into the lock before she pushed the door open and stumbled inside. The familiar warmth of the apartment hit her like a wave, a comforting contrast to the cold streets outside. It wrapped around her, offering a brief sense of solace as she closed the door behind her with a tired sigh.

"Y/N?" Jinx slurred, her voice small and a little hesitant, though she already knew the answer. Of course, Y/N was here. Where else would she be? Y/N had always been there for her—when no one else had been.

Y/N was sitting on the couch, a soft smile gracing her lips as she looked up from the book she’d been reading. Her eyes softened with affection as she took in the sight of Jinx—stumbling, flushed cheeks, that far-off look in her eyes that always appeared after she'd gone a little too far.

"Come here, Jinx," Y/N said gently, setting her book aside and making room for her on the couch. A glass of water and a small container of pills were placed carefully on the table next to the couch, as if they were waiting just for her.

Jinx shuffled over, her feet dragging on the floor as though they no longer belonged to her. She sank into the cushions beside Y/N with a tired sigh, her head falling instinctively onto Y/N's lap. Without a word, Y/N handed her the glass of water, already knowing exactly what she needed. Jinx took the water with shaky hands, her fingers brushing Y/N’s as she drank. Her movements were slow but careful, almost too tired to be hurried. Once she finished, Y/N handed her the small pills, which Jinx swallowed easily, the weight of the alcohol starting to lift from her body.

"Thank you," Jinx mumbled softly, her voice quieter than usual, a little vulnerable. The alcohol still clung to her words, thick and heavy.

Y/N didn’t say anything at first. She just placed the glass down on the table before her hand gently found its way into Jinx’s wild hair. Her fingers worked through the messy strands, each stroke slow, deliberate, and full of warmth. It was a silent promise. No matter how much chaos Jinx brought, no matter how messy or broken she felt, Y/N would always be there to guide her through it.

Jinx let out a deep sigh, her body slowly relaxing under Y/N's touch. Her head nestled further into Y/N’s lap, her hair a tangled mess of blue against her legs. She closed her eyes, the rhythmic stroking of Y/N’s hand sending waves of calm through her. There was something comforting about it—the familiarity, the safety that she found in this quiet moment. It felt like the weight of the world was finally being lifted off her shoulders, even if just for a while.

Y/N, sensing Jinx's exhaustion, started humming a familiar tune—a lullaby she had sung to her countless times. The melody was soft and soothing, flowing from her lips like a gentle breeze. It was simple, yet it had the power to calm the storms inside Jinx's mind. She had heard it so many times before, but tonight, it felt different. It felt like the last thread of peace in a world that had always been chaos for her.

The hum vibrated gently through Jinx’s chest, and with each note, the tension in her body melted away. The world outside seemed to fade into nothingness—the city, the noise, the violence—until there was only Y/N and the quiet hum filling the room.

Jinx let out a contented sigh, her breath evening out as the drink and pills finally began to take effect. Her body felt heavy, but in the best way, as sleep began to pull her under. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so at peace, so cared for.

Y/N’s hand never stopped moving through her hair, each motion a quiet, loving rhythm. Jinx's eyelids fluttered as she drifted closer to sleep, her breath becoming steady and deep.

"Y/N," Jinx whispered, barely audible. "You always take care of me... even when I don't deserve it."

Y/N smiled softly, the warmth of affection swelling in her chest. "You always deserve it, Jinx. Always."

Jinx’s body went limp with sleep, her head resting against Y/N’s stomach, her breaths soft and even. Y/N stayed there, humming the lullaby under her breath, stroking her hair gently, her hand moving in slow, comforting circles.

For once, there was no explosion, no chaos, no madness. There was only peace in this small moment—a sense of quiet warmth that filled the room. Y/N watched over Jinx, her heart swelling with tenderness as she gazed down at the woman who, despite all her quirks and madness, had become her family.

No matter how broken or wild Jinx became, Y/N would always be there. She would always watch over her—her responsibility, her sister, her family. Through the chaos, through the storms, she would always be there, providing the care Jinx so often longed for but could never ask for.

The morning after was a stark contrast to the peaceful night before. The faint rays of sunlight filtered in through the blinds, casting a soft glow over the apartment. Jinx, however, was anything but peaceful. She was hunched over the toilet, her stomach rebelling against her with every nauseating heave. Her hands clutched the edges of the porcelain as she groaned, her blue hair a tangled mess around her face. The room smelled faintly of alcohol, and the aftermath of her reckless night was evident in every move she made.

"Ugh..." Jinx mumbled weakly, her voice hoarse. "I'm never... never drinking again." She was so dramatic about it that even she didn’t believe herself. Her body lurched again, and she groaned in frustration. "Who does this to themselves?!"

Y/N stood beside her, gently holding Jinx’s long braids back, her fingers steady as she helped keep the hair out of the way. She had seen this routine more times than she cared to count, but it didn’t stop her from feeling a twinge of sympathy for her wild, unpredictable friend. "I think you say that every time, love" she said, the gentle humour in her voice betraying the otherwise soothing calm she exuded.

Jinx shot her a weak glare over her shoulder, but it was softened by the misery in her eyes. "Well, this time I mean it," she insisted, though she didn’t sound all that convincing. Her face twisted as another wave of nausea hit. "I’m gonna be a model citizen from now on—no more wild nights of chaos and destruction." She paused to glance at Y/N, looking faintly horrified at the mere thought. "Maybe just... a little chaos, but, y'know, not the drinking part."

Y/N chuckled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from Jinx’s flushed face. "I think that’s the same thing you said last week when you tried to throw a party for Sevika. Remember that?"

"Ugh, don’t remind me," Jinx groaned, her stomach still protesting. "I was convinced I was gonna be the life of the party. Turns out I was the one lying on the floor, half-dead from tequila." She moaned again and slumped forward, holding her head in her hands as if the mere thought of her past drinking binges was enough to send her into another spiral.

It was then that the door creaked open, and Silco appeared, still half-asleep, rubbing his eyes with one hand while the other clung to the doorframe. He blinked, looking at Jinx in her current state, before turning to Y/N, who was standing patiently next to the toilet, still holding back her braids.

"Good morning, Silco," Jinx slurred, her words thick with the remnants of the alcohol. "I hope you’re ready for this wild ride of the aftermath. You’re gonna get a whole new view of me today—the real me."

Silco squinted at her, a mix of concern and confusion in his tired gaze. "Is it too early for this... whatever this is?" He stepped in cautiously, almost looking like he regretted it immediately. "I was hoping for a quiet morning. Not... this."

Y/N just shook her head, unable to suppress a smile. "She's a walking disaster, but she’s your problem now, Silco."

Jinx gave him a dramatic, pained look. "I’m never drinking again. I mean it this time. I just... just need a minute to recover from my bad decisions," she mumbled, clearly not convinced herself but trying to sound sincere.

Silco, still half asleep but apparently used to these moments, merely sighed and leaned against the doorframe. "Right. Well, don’t expect me to be your personal nurse today." He eyed the bathroom with distaste, before adding in a quieter tone, "And if you say ‘never again’ one more time, I’ll lock away the alcohol for good."

Jinx shot him a half-hearted glare, but it quickly faded as she leaned back against Y/N, letting out a deep, tired sigh. "Fine, fine... Just gimme a break for now. I’ll get back to my usual chaotic self after I’m not dying."

Y/N gave a small laugh and patted her on the back. "Yeah, sure. We’ll see how long that lasts."

"Until next time," Jinx mumbled with a small grin, closing her eyes as she let herself rest, even if it was just for a few moments longer.

With a tired but amused glance at the two of them, Silco finally sighed and turned away, muttering under his breath, "If I end up with a headache today, it’s because of you both."

Y/N just gave him a playful wink. "Maybe you’ll join us for a drink next time, Silco."

He groaned, and without another word, he left them to the madness of the morning aftermath.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #reader insert #jinx x platonic!reader #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce talis x reader #jayce x y/n #viktor x y/n #viktor x reader #jayce x reader x viktor #viktor x you #vander x reader #silco x reader #jayvik x reader

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xichilie · 4 months ago

Note

I love the Mydei’s secret friend fic so much

Remember what we talked about 😏 your idea you did not post?

I want to requast the part where they first meeting plus that reader is like the recarnation or looks exactly like his old friend cough lover cough

Since he's immortal, he is around for a while and his family was shitty to him and tried to kill poor boy but she stood by him but his side, so they killed her 🪦

But then DRAMATIC EVENT INSIDE THE RUINS AFTER THE BATTLE HE TOOK HER MASK OF AND BOOOOOOOM THE FACE HE MISSED THE FACE HE MOURNED FOR HEREEEEEEE AALIVE

And that's why he gets protective of her and doesn't like phainon interested in her

You tould me you won't write it because it's just a silly thought

I force ya too 😈

Youuuuuuu......Fine.... I've been working on it anyway ( ｡ •̀ ⤙ •́ ｡ )

_______________________________________

Mydei x (fem) reader

Mydei's secret friend (memories of the past)

The ruins of Kremnos stood in solemn defiance of time, their once-grand structures now mere skeletal remains of a forgotten age. The air carried the scent of dust and ancient stone, while the distant echoes of shifting debris whispered secrets of a bygone era. Y/N moved with purpose, her boots crunching softly against the ground as she navigated the crumbling pathways. The towering remnants of temples and palaces loomed over her, casting long, jagged shadows that danced in the waning light of the afternoon sun.

She had heard stories of this place—tales of an ancient city swallowed by war, its people lost, its history reduced to rubble. But legends often left out the details, the smaller truths buried beneath the grandiosity of myth. That was why she was here. To uncover what had been forgotten, to see with her own eyes what the world had let slip into obscurity.

The ruins were eerily silent, save for the occasional gust of wind that howled through the broken columns and shattered archways. But Y/N knew better than to assume she was alone. She had sensed it the moment she set foot inside—a presence, heavy and watchful, lingering just beyond her line of sight.

Then, the ground trembled.

Y/N barely had time to react before a Titan Kin emerged from the shadows, its hulking form towering over her. It was a massive, humanoid creature of living rock, veins of crimson energy pulsing through the cracks in its rough exterior. Its glowing eyes locked onto her, soulless and unrelenting. With a guttural roar, it raised a colossal fist and swung downward, the sheer force of the attack sending a tremor through the ruins.

Y/N leaped back just in time, the impact shattering the ground where she had stood moments before. Dust and debris filled the air as she steadied her grip on her greatsword, its steel glinting in the dim light. Without hesitation, she lunged forward, flames igniting along the blade’s edge as she struck.

The Titan Kin retaliated with a swipe of its massive arm, forcing her to pivot to the side. She moved with practiced precision, dodging its attacks while delivering swift, calculated strikes of her own. Every clash of her blade against its rocky hide sent sparks flying, the heat of her flames searing its surface. But it was resilient, absorbing the damage with little sign of faltering.

She needed to be faster. Stronger.

Summoning her energy, Y/N channeled her fire into a concentrated blast, slamming it directly into the Titan Kin’s core. The explosion sent the creature staggering backward, molten rock dripping from the wound she had inflicted. Seizing the opportunity, she charged forward, ready to end the battle—

And then she felt it again.

The presence.

It was closer this time, more distinct. A weight in the air, pressing against her senses like an unseen force. Her instincts screamed at her, warning of something far more dangerous than the Titan Kin before her.

And then he spoke.

“You fight well.”

The voice was deep, unwavering. It cut through the chaos like a blade, freezing her mid-motion. Y/N barely had time to register the words before the Titan Kin’s movements suddenly ceased, as if something had shifted in the atmosphere.

Slowly, she turned her gaze toward the source of the voice.

A lone figure stood atop a broken pillar, bathed in the dying light of the sun. He was shirtless, his muscular frame adorned with intricate crimson tattoos that pulsed faintly against his skin. His golden hair, tipped with red, caught the light in a way that almost made it seem ablaze. Heavy gladiatorial armor covered his arms and shoulders, gleaming with the remnants of past battles. But it was his eyes that held her attention—sharp, golden, and unwavering.

He looked like a ghost haunting the ruins.

Y/N exhaled slowly, gripping her sword a little tighter. “You’re watching me.”

His lips quirked slightly, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “And you’re trespassing.”

Her brow arched. “Didn’t realize these ruins belonged to anyone.”

He stepped forward, descending from the broken pillar with effortless grace. “They don’t.” His gaze flickered briefly to the now-motionless Titan Kin before settling back on her. “Yet, you’re here. Fighting. Seeking something.”

Y/N didn’t respond immediately. She studied him, trying to piece together his intent. He carried himself like a warrior, but there was something else beneath the surface—a quiet intensity, an air of something ancient and unresolved.

Then, without warning, he shifted his stance.

A challenge.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “You want to fight?”

He flexed his fingers, the golden armor on his hands glinting ominously. “I want to see what you can do.”

There was no room for hesitation.

The moment she moved, so did he.

Their clash sent a shockwave through the ruins, the impact of his armored fists against her greatsword ringing through the air. He was relentless, each strike fueled by raw power and precision. But Y/N met him blow for blow, her flames licking at his armor, forcing him to adjust his attacks.

It was a battle of endurance as much as skill. He fought with unyielding force, his movements refined, honed through countless battles. She countered with fluidity and adaptability, her fire weaving through her strikes like a second weapon. Sparks flew, embers danced, and the ruins bore witness to a battle unlike any in centuries.

Yet, despite her best efforts, she could feel herself slowing.

Her stamina was wearing thin. And he was still going strong.

A misstep. A fraction of a second too slow.

That was all he needed.

In a blur of motion, he disarmed her, her greatsword skidding across the stone floor. Before she could react, he closed the distance, pinning her in place with a single, firm grip on her wrist. She met his gaze, breathing heavily, defiance flickering in her eyes.

And then he reached forward.

With deliberate slowness, he removed her mask.

For a fleeting moment, something shifted in his expression. A flicker of recognition. A ghost of something long buried.

He froze.

Y/N blinked, confused by his sudden stillness. He stared at her, golden eyes unreadable, yet holding something deep beneath the surface. Something fractured.

Then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone.

He released her wrist, stepping back. “Who are you?”

Y/N straightened, brushing dust from her clothes. “Y/N. And you?”

A pause. Then, with a voice heavy with something unspoken, he answered.

“Mydei.”

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. He studied her for a moment longer before exhaling sharply. “What are you doing in these ruins?”

Y/N tilted her head, watching him curiously. “Exploring.”

He regarded her for a long moment before nodding. “Then I’ll accompany you.”

She raised a brow. “Why?”

His gaze flickered to the ruins around them before settling back on her. “Because these ruins hold more than history.”

And so, they walked together, the weight of something unseen lingering between them.

The ruins loomed ahead, their towering structures bathed in the dim light filtering through the cracks of a long-collapsed ceiling. Y/N walked beside Mydei, her keen eyes scanning the surroundings, ever watchful for lurking threats. The air was thick with dust, carrying the scent of decay and old magic, remnants of a forgotten past.

Their earlier battle had left both of them on edge, but now, having established a fragile truce, they pressed forward together. Mydei’s usual brooding silence was punctuated only by the occasional grunt or huff whenever Y/N dared to ask a question he deemed unworthy of an answer. She took his gruff demeanor in stride, finding a strange amusement in his perpetual state of annoyance.

Titan kin lurked in the shadows, their hulking forms shifting amongst the ruins. One lunged from the darkness, its stone-carved body adorned with ancient glyphs that pulsed ominously. Y/N reacted swiftly, her greatsword igniting in flames as she met the creature head-on. Sparks flew as steel clashed against hardened rock, her movements precise and unyielding.

Mydei observed her technique with an unreadable expression, stepping in to handle a second Titan kin that emerged from behind. His golden-armored fists connected with crushing force, crimson energy crackling around him as he sent the creature reeling backward. Crimson crystals erupted from the ground beneath it, impaling the beast and reducing it to rubble.

They fought in unison, an unspoken understanding forming between them as they tore through their adversaries. It was strange—unnerving, even—how easily she moved beside him, how instinctively she countered his strikes, filling in the gaps in his relentless assault. It was… familiar.

A flash of memory overtook him.

A different time, a different battlefield. The same seamless coordination. A voice filled with laughter, calling out his name amidst the chaos. Soft hands that reached for him despite the blood staining them. Eyes filled with unwavering faith.

He blinked, forcing himself back to the present. Y/N was not her. It was impossible. And yet, the way she carried herself, the confidence in her movements, the stubborn gleam in her eyes—it all gnawed at the edges of his mind.

She turned to him after the last Titan kin fell, wiping sweat from her brow. "You're quieter" she remarked, her tone light but observant.

"I prefer silence over meaningless chatter," he shot back, crossing his arms as his crimson energy dissipated.

She smirked. "And yet, you tolerate mine."

Mydei huffed but said nothing. He had no rebuttal. It was true—he hadn't told her to leave yet.

They pressed onward, deeper into the ruins. As they walked, Y/N traced her fingers along the crumbling walls, deciphering the old carvings with interest. Mydei watched her, the way her expression softened in wonder, the way she breathed in the history surrounding them. It was how she used to be. Before she was taken from him.

He clenched his fists, pushing the thought away. Whatever this was—whatever connection Y/N unknowingly stirred within him—it did not matter. He was not here for sentimentality.

But as they stood before an ancient chamber, their reflection flickering in the golden glow of an undying ember, he could not shake the feeling that fate had dragged him back to this place for a reason.

Memories crashed against Mydei’s mind like waves against jagged rocks. He was no longer in the ruins but in the past, where warm sunlight bathed the high walls of Kremnos, and laughter echoed through its hallowed halls.

She had always been a whirlwind, teasing him relentlessly, challenging him when no one else dared. He could hear her voice, clear as day.

"Mydei, you really need to learn how to lighten up! Your face is going to get stuck like that," she would say, poking his cheek with an infuriating grin.

He would swat her hand away, scowling. "Stop that."

"You always say that," she laughed. "But you never mean it."

And she was right. He never did.

There were softer moments, too. Nights spent under the vast Kremnos sky, watching the stars while she spoke of dreams beyond their ruined city. Mydei had listened, pretending not to care, but her voice had always been a comfort he never admitted needing.

And then there were the funny moments—like when she, ever the fearless explorer, tripped over nothing and sent an entire stack of ancient scrolls toppling over her. He had laughed for the first time in years, earning a glare and a handful of parchment thrown at his head.

But those days had ended.

He could still feel the cold steel of chains against his skin, hear the roaring accusations of his family, see her standing there, defiant even in the face of death.

And then she was gone....

"Mydei?"

Y/N’s voice cut through the haze of memory. He blinked, realizing he had stopped walking. She was looking at him with mild concern, head tilted slightly. "You okay? You kind of just… froze."

He scowled, brushing past her. "Mind your own business."

She huffed, catching up. "You’re not exactly subtle, you know. If something’s bothering you, you can talk about it."

He shot her a glare. "No."

She laughed at his bluntness, shaking her head. "Fine, fine. But don’t look so miserable. We’re exploring ancient ruins, fighting Titan kin—what’s there to frown about?"

Everything, Mydei thought, but he didn’t say it.

Instead, he walked ahead, pretending that the ghost of his past wasn’t breathing down his neck with every step he took.

Over the years, his reluctant alliance with Y/N grew into an unexpected friendship. Though Mydei remained his usual gruff and irritable self, he found himself tolerating her presence more than anyone else’s. When she insisted on dragging him along on her explorations, he would scoff and protest, yet he never actually refused.

She had a way of drawing out something buried deep within him—reminding him of laughter he had forgotten, of warmth he thought had died with Kremnos.

There were moments when her presence felt so much like hers that it was almost painful. The way she tilted her head when deep in thought, the way she smirked when she bested him in a battle of wit or blade, even the way she could be so utterly, hopelessly clumsy at times.

Once, she tripped over a root and tumbled straight into a pond. Mydei, standing on the shore, arms crossed, had merely raised a brow.

"I meant to do that," she had declared, drenched and unbothered.

He scoffed. "Of course you did."

Another time, he had found himself standing outside her home, arms full of ingredients she had insisted they buy for some ‘experiment’ in baking. He didn’t know how she convinced him, but there he was, watching as she kneaded dough with an enthusiasm that bordered on reckless.

"You know, you could help instead of just standing there like a statue," she quipped.

"I’m not interested in your ridiculous hobby," he muttered, but when she turned her back, he found himself reaching out, adjusting the way she was rolling the dough. "You’re doing it wrong."

She blinked at him in surprise before grinning. "So, you do know how to bake."

He glared at her. "Shut up."

It was in these moments that he let his guard down, even if just slightly. But never for long.

Because every now and then, when she stood before him, firelight flickering against her face, he would catch a glimpse of the past. And it was both a comfort and a curse.

Y/N never pried, never asked why he sometimes looked at her like he was staring at a ghost. And for that, he was silently grateful.

But he knew the truth—one day, he would have to face what haunted him.

And he wasn’t sure if he was ready.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #x reader #honkai star rail mydei #mydeimos #hsr mydei #mydei #mydei x reader #hotmen #hurt/comfort #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x you #x y/n #oc x character #x you #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x reader

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yoursweetheartsrevenge · 4 months ago

Text

The Academic

Summary: He’s gorgeous and silent. The perfect patron. But the underlying mystery of why this mysterious silver haired stranger spends entire days seated in the library fascinates the staff. One librarian takes it upon herself to see who this mystery man is and what exactly he desires.

Read on Ao3

Written for @hotd-bigbang

Taglist: @sepherinaspoppies

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Warnings: smut (face sitting, creampie, cowgirl, public sex), MINORS DNI, 18+

Word Count: 10.9K+

Author’s Note: Written for @hotd-bigbang.

Week 4: Free Space - Wanted to write another Modern AU. Besides, ever since Ewan answered with the library as what Aemond would love about modern society I was itching to write him in a modern library setting. This really got away from me.

The Academic

“He’s back again.”

She turned to look at her co-worker. Her dark haired co-worker was slowly sipping her coffee while tilting her head in the direction of the he in question. The librarian adjusted her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose as her light eyes fell in the direction of him.

Their silver haired frequent researcher had a decent looking spread across one of the library’s wide tables. She held a series of poor condition large print titles that were due to be recycled. She plopped them on the dark book cart hearing the hardcovers echo against the howl metal.

He remained concentrated. His long curtain of white blonde hair did not even deter him from his studies. He scribbled notes before flipping one page then two pages in another book. She could definitely see a range of atlases and maps he had somehow found within the public library walls.

“The Academic.” Her co-worker nearly chuckled in a posher than normal voice.

“A nickname just because he is doing a research project?” She said with a sigh. Her fingers tickled the edges of the cracked veiny spines. She slowly shifted the titles to be in alphabetical order.

“Yes, but you see the assortment of books he has piled up, maps, business proposals, history books, and I am pretty sure he’s found every title older than seventy years old not in a glass case.” She gave her coffee a loud sip again. They both looked toward their mystery researcher.

Still very concentrated.

“He’ll come looking for one of those titles in the historical room one of these days. I’m sure of it.” There was a soft smile on her co-worker’s face that nearly looked dreamy.

“You just think he’s attractive.” She whispered in a hiss. Her hands gripped the metal handles of the book cart.

“Oh please,” She settled the cardboard coffee cup beside her desktop at the reference desk. “I see the way you make eyes at him. I’ll turn on the fan for you.” Her fingers clicked on their small fan at the desk.

The librarian huffed pulling the cart away. One wheel spun out as she moved it across the carpet. It echoed softly hitting bumps every so often. Her french tip nails clicked against the cart. There was a slight pause in her pathway when she realized she would have to pass “the academic” to get to the back office.

The library was nearly empty on the creeping autumn mid afternoon. The trees had just started turning that crisp orange with yellow veins along the leaves. The large framed windows let in the shadows of oranges that made her feel cozy to be inside. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment.

He had his hair half up in a small ponytail. He wore a soft green sweater with two navy stripes nearly hidden beneath the fluff of the sweater. She could see white cuffs peeking through the cuffs on the sweater. He had before him an array of different colored pens and highlighters lined up in a nearly perfect line.

Her lips settled into a soft smile seeing it.

There was an appreciation there in seeing organization.

She loved seeing how he had lined them up, placing them back in order as he went.

Not as if she were looking.

Slowly she pushed her cart past the front of his table. Her soft heels settled on the hard carpet making an easy click as she moved.

He looked up.

She saw him then.

The librarian wasn’t sure why she hadn’t seen the eye patch, leather and etched with an embroidery of leaves along the edges. The design work was actually quite beautiful. His soft violet eye slowly blinked at her.

She felt caught somehow as if she were doing something wrong instead of her job.

Her throat rolled out a quiet whimper. She winced, feeling her covered big toe knock against one of the wheels. She nearly tripped. Their mystery researcher began to stand. Her hands pushed the cart further until she passed his table.

He was standing, watching her go.

She didn’t want to look back.

Her mind wandered to imagining that he was looking at her behind in the long skirt skating at her ankles.

In the window of the office she could see, he was doing just that.

He was outside before they opened almost every day now. She always thought the silver haired researcher looked dashing in every outfit he came in with. Her co-workers would swoon with curiosity at what exactly he was working on.

Librarians were always up for a good mystery.

He never spoke to a single employee. His long fingers and brilliant mind seemed to navigate the shelves with great ease as if he had been here since the building opened and had not just appeared two months before.

She noticed the things her co-workers seemed to ignore in favor of his physical traits.

They, of course, had noted the eyepatch, but she had noticed how he seemed to not touch it as if it were an old wound he was used to when the world seemed too silent around him.

She noted what kind of bags he came with. A green leather briefcase and a canvas messenger bag always accompanied him to his table. His table was nearest to the non-fiction materials. She noted he remained close to the history section. He never took too many steps from his table to what materials he needed.

While her co-workers continued to be curious what the handsome stranger was researching, seeing him devoted to taking every copy of the history section on The Conquest to his table to study and topical maps of the surrounding areas of Westeros, she had been curious how he researched.

He did not come in with a laptop, but instead a smattering of over used notebooks that were dog eared and sticking out papers at the edges. There was organization there. She could tell as he maneuvered between each notebook with ease pulling out different writing utensils with each different book.

There was no doubt he remained very concentrated about his work.

“How does he know where it all is?” Her co-worker had asked while in the break room. She was looking between the blinds at him.

There were only the two of them in the break room. While her co-worker was nearly glued to watching the handsome researcher, she continued to eat her tuna fish sandwich shrugging slightly.

“He seems intelligent enough to figure it out.” It was an obvious statement. She heard the blinds snap closed. “What?” Her co-worker stared at her rolling her eyes.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” She picked at the crust of her bread looking down.

“Pretend like you have some special bond with him. Like you know him.” Her eyes narrowed as if trying to decide if her words might be true.

“I just appreciate how self-sufficient he is. It’s rare.”

That seemed to be the end of the conversation.

She had the night shift that evening. It was always quiet toward the end of the night. This was the time she could do her displays. She was pulling some titles for non-fiction ghost stories as autumn continued to linger into the spooky season. Her short list of titles was nearly finished, but she was missing one.

Her feet padded over to the section, checking the early 100s for about the fifth time. Her fingers wiped over the empty spot which should have held, Most Haunted Places of Westeros. It was a loose spot with several titles leaning into each other for support. She didn’t know why she was so keen to find the title. Perhaps it was because the records said it was checked in and it was not exactly where it was supposed to be.

It frustrated her when things were out of place.

She clicked her nails against the wooden shelf. Her eyes wandered beyond that spot to the other side. Her eyes caught the side profile of a curtain of silver hair as he stood looking over a title. Her eyes caught his eye for a sharp moment staring a bit caught in the moment. She saw the twitch of a smile on his face. Her fingernails scratched the wood watching him walk away.

Maybe . . .

Her body moved automatically putting the books on display at the end cap of the non-fiction shelving unit. She smoothed out the display sign indicating what kinds of titles were on display, a black inky paper filled with white cartoon ghosts flying out of a white lined Victorian house. There was that missing spot though. It made her lips twitch a bit. She turned the corner to look for the title thinking it may have been mishelved.

She wasn’t sure how long she was looking or when she had gotten on her hands and knees to obsessively check the bottom shelves. Her hand caught her sneeze hearing the tail end of a clearing of a throat.

“Sorry,” His voice was not familiar to her, but it was higher than she imagined it. She sniffled, turning to see the silver haired stranger holding out exactly what she was looking for. “I took one of your books for your display, didn’t I?”

Her mind blanked for a moment looking up at him from on her knees on the hard carpet. She sat back on her ankle booties. Her glasses, silver framed completely on purpose since she had to stare at his silver hair all day and every week, slid down her nose. When she adjusted them she could see he was wearing a black button up with every button fascinated tight. So tight in fact she could see that his biceps and pecs were straining.

She nibbled at the side of her lips before realizing his words.

“Oh it is no trouble I can -”

“No, please. I’m finished. Besides, you are closing soon.” He nodded his head curtly holding out the thick yellowed paged book. She could smell the age of it from here, but it was a perfect addition for her display which she desperately needed.

She shifted upwards, unable to stop herself from witnessing the way his violet eye seemed to follow her. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. Gods, he was tall! Nearly a foot taller than her, but she could have imagined that by the way he was slumped over his studies.

There was more she could say, but instead she mumbled a soft thank you letting her fingers grasp the book from his hand. She pressed it to her chest letting her feet take her back to the end cap.

He watched her.

She felt that soft eye on her making sure the book returned to where it needed to be.

“You know we close in fifteen minutes. Don’t you, Sir?” She said merely so she could break his little stare. She was aware he knew this information.

“Oh yes, right. I should start packing up my things. Apologies again for the book.” He nodded awkwardly before returning to his table where he did in fact have a large spread of items.

While he packed up she looked up at the cover of the book they had both been desperately clinging to.

She wondered what a man like him could need a book about supernatural locations for.

He had finally checked out a book.

It was the gossip of the day among all the curious library workers. He had come up to the circulation desk with one paperback fiction title tucked at his hip. It was before he went on his two hour lunch break to the local coffee shop. Upon handing his library card, everyone now knew the name of the silver haired patron who graced them with delicious eye candy for months.

Aemond Targaryen.

It wasn’t long before everyone knew quite too much about the no longer stranger. She had sat back and listened as they listed his accomplishments and failures. The Targaryens were nearly celebrities, but the silver hair while hereditary wasn’t exactly an indication of a true Targaryen. Many people dyed their locks to look like the semi celebrity royals of Westeros.

It didn’t bother her much that they were searching for juicy gossip about the long haired Aemond Targaryen. That was simply human nature. People were curious when strange people came in. Aemond was an interesting fellow. She could admit that.

What bothered her most was when they discussed his eye.

It was no secret Aemond Targaryen was missing one eye.

She had never been curious about the cause of it.

What good was knowing the nature of his disability?

Her co-workers seemed obsessed over knowing how the eye was lost.

When they were discussing she had taken to leaving the room or planting herself on the large circular reference desk in the middle of the library that always faced him. Everytime she did she saw him catch her with his one good eye.

She was beginning to notice it more and more ever since the first day she spoke to him.

Aemond Targaryen was curious about HER.

Her co-workers were so wrapped up in knowing him more that they had not noticed that they had now taken to exchanging soft smiles. It was a small gesture, but one she seemed to look forward to. She had also taken to going to lunch around the same time as him. She would whisper her request for an early lunch knowing he would softly gather his things before heading to the coffee shop within walking distance. It may have been her imagination, but when she lifted herself from the squeaky wheeled chair at the desk he’d look up and begin to pack up as if on an automatic timer.

There was an unwritten rule not to scold him if he came back with his flat white latte with the lid firmly on. Now that they understood he was a Targaryen the rule was very widely known among patrons and the staff.

She had settled herself at the desk beginning her desk shift for the day. Her items were always well placed beside her. Her notebook containing her to-do list was open on her left while her cold brew with a light pink reusable straw was settled to her right on top of a tissue in an attempt not to make a stain on the ancient desk. She was typing her password in the computer when she felt his warm shadow.

“I was looking for a book.”

Aemond Targaryen liked to wear black and green. It had something to do with the heraldry of their house in Old Valyria. Not that she had scrolled on her phone late one night to discover the reason. However today he was dressed in a rather plain looking mock grey turtleneck and dark jeans. His eye patch however was a faded olive green leather bordered with little vines at the edges.

“Oh, of course,” His question caught her off guard. He never came looking for a title. Aemond Targaryen was used to navigating the library on his own. It seemed to function as a second home to him. She suspected if he could sleep here he would. “Do you know the -”

“It says it is in special collections.” He answered as if seeing the curiosity on her face. She saw his head tilt slightly. “It’s on The Conquest.” Her brain worked to guess what he was talking about. There was a small smile peaking at the corners of her lips as if he were enjoying seeing her mind sort through all the titles.

“We have many titles in our historical archives on The Conquest. Did you have a specific one in mind?” She hated to give up and not give him an answer, but -

“How many titles?”

“Twenty six.” Her eyes nearly widened at her own memory.

His lashes fluttered as he chuckled softly.

“You know the collection quite well, Miss . . .”

She spoke her name. Her voice cracked a bit at the letters.

Gods was he handsome.

She hated that.

“Perhaps you can show me the collection?” There was a softness in his voice as he asked, a politeness she rarely heard in the few times they spoke.

She simply nodded shifting to put up the sign at the desk signifying she was off desk. Her fingers shuffled for the keys to the private room and various locked cabinets in the drawer. He waited and watched her as she moved. She momentarily thought to break the silence of the soft echo of their heels by asking him of his research, but slowly thought it was none of her business.

The historical archives room was a space on the opposite end of the library. Individuals rarely went in there, but there was the occasional reporter or request that came in from across the country asking for a scan of a record. Generally civilians didn’t ask too much for the room unless they were doing family research.

“Conquest.” She muttered under her breath a few times in a sing-song tone.

She noted he was leaning against one of the shelves before she turned to give him a stern look.

“Please be careful. That is original furinture.” She hadn’t meant to sound so harsh. It appeared to work though. Aemond Targaren acted as a caught child straightening up, folding his hands behind him. “Now as I said we have a number of titles on The Conquest.”

“Twenty six.” He repeated her own words.

The high ceilings seemed to echo those words.

“Yes,” She swallowed, moving to tap her fingers along the first of several glass cases that bordered the room. “Most are in these cases, if you want to -”

“I know what I am looking for.” Aemond said.

He scrolled confidently over to a small cabinet near the exit of the room. It held many titles that were distinguished as being from two hundred years ago. She hesitated before going to the cabinet to join him. She followed his line of sight to see that he was eyeing the only spine with no title.

“These are rarely looked at.” The librarian started out loud. “There is a procedure if you wish to look at them.” She started to move to the small drawer underneath the cabinet pulling out supplies. There was a small pink plastic bin she settled on the table. The brunette could feel his eyes watching her. She adjusted her glasses hoping he did not notice they were fogging.

“I’ll need your id.” She shifted the little card bin brushing off some dust from infrequent use. “You’ll need to wear these gloves to look at the item.” Her finger shifted the small pump of hand sanitizer and box of tight blue latex gloves. “Put the sanitizer on your hands before the gloves.” She lined the items out in the order he needed to use them. Her eyes fluttered up to him. Aemond slowly turned his head toward her, eyeing the items. “The item must remain in this room. Any damage -”

“I will not damage the item.” He stated coldly.

“Any damage to the item will be noted. There are cameras in this room.” That last line was one she should not have stated yet she still pointed them out to the man. He did not follow her finger, but instead remained looking at her. His focus made her cheeks hot. “Do you have any questions?”

“Will you be watching me the entire time I read?” There was a cheekiness there in his tone.

“Only if you would like me too.” She wasn’t sure where her own flirtation had come from.

“Hmmm . . .” He wondered if he wanted that. “I should not keep you. I will not be long. I simply need to make some notes.” His hand patted his jean pocket where she could see the spirals of the notepad sticking out.

The librarian shifted her keys hating how close he leaned to her, hating more how she could very much see how her fingers trembled as she opened the door. She could smell his cologne on him, something she had not noticed before. It was soft and musky like a forest after a very heavy rain when every pine was fresh and wet. She shifted to put the gloves on herself retrieving the delicate item from the cabinet.

He did as instructed. Aemond Targaryen placed his driver’s license in the bin. He wet his hands with a slow spurt of santizer rubbing it between his two hands while watching her. He slipped the gloves on with ease.

“I will come check on you in fifteen minutes.”

With that she left him to his business fully aware that his eyes trailed after her when she left.

Her mind could not focus on the tasks she had left. Her emails remained a blank white screen. Her voice trembled slightly as patrons came to the desk asking computer based questions and looking for titles. One young woman even asked if she was alright.

Gods, what was this man doing to her?

It had been exactly sixteen minutes when she had a chance to go check on him.

He was maneuvering from the table of contents to numbered passages. She was fully aware that was what he was doing as she noticed the gesture. Aemond Targaryen did that often with other books at the library.

“A minute late. Tsk, tsk.” Her heart jumped at the disappointment in his tone before she noted his little smile.

“Patrons can be quite needy.” What was she saying?

“Am I a needy one?”

“No. You are quite self sufficient. It is very much appreciated.” She shifted on her heels before deciding to approach him. “Did you need more time or . . .”

“Hmmm . . .” He looked down at his small notepad. “Perhaps another five minutes. That should give me enough time to take my final notes. Would that be sufficient?” When he looked at her she felt her heart in her throat. His hair was perfectly laid back across his toned shoulders.

“Of course. Please let me know if you need anything.”

She walked out fast knowing if she lingered too long he may say something cheeky.

The librarian settled at the desk noting the time. She wrote one email in those five minutes that she immediately erased seeing how it almost read as nonsense.

“He asked for a book?” Her co-worker wondered as their shift was beginning to change.

The librarian explained what had transpired, noting the title.

“He checked out a fictional recount of The Conquest. I saw he’s getting a dual master’s in history and philosophy.” When she inquired how her co-worker knew that she simply winked.

“I’m going to check on him then go to lunch.” The librarian shifted up the pink bin containing his id to bring back to him.

When she entered the room he was not at the table. The book was left abandoned. He was looking through the shelves at other titles, hands behind his back.

“All finished, then?”

He simply nodded. She handed him back his id. He reached for his wallet, putting it back inside. She could not help seeing the wads of large bills sticking out from there. Yes the Targaryens were quite well off, but it was one thing to have the knowledge and another to see the cash in his wallet.

“Did you find everything you needed?” She couldn’t help herself. She wanted to talk to him more.

“I did. Have a good lunch, my dear.”

With that he left, letting his dress heels echo in the room. The librarian began to put on the gloves to return the book when she found the edges of a ripped out spiral piece of paper sticking out.

Surely this didn’t belong.

She pulled it free seeing that hand writing was not only beautiful, but the message caused her cheeks to flush.

If you are able to get away please meet me for lunch today. I suspect you know the spot. - Aemond Targaryen

She rubbed the message between her fingers lingering over the thought that he knew that she watched him so closely.

Dare she answer this request?

Her heart fluttered widely at the thought of it. Her mind raced thinking that she could not get a coffee as she had already had her caffeine for that day. Why was she focused on coffee when Aemond Targaryen had asked her out to lunch?

Instead she let her mind focus on the task at hand. She put the book away. As she ripped off the gloves she felt unsettled on her feet.

How long had it been since she had been asked out?

How long would it be if she rejected this request?

Soon she found herself by her locker contemplating exactly what she should do.

“I’m going out to lunch today. Be back in an hour.” She told her co-worker at the desk before heading out the front doors into the chilled November air.

She shifted on her feet in line unsure what exactly she expected when entering the small cafe. It smelt of fresh coffee and cream with the steam of the espresso machine calling out to her. The clattering of plates settled on the counter for bussers to shift freshly pressed pannis and bowls of over grown gourmet salads to tables.

Her eyes raked over the scene spread before her. It was a small smattering of people in business suits mixed with friends chatting over wide brimmed cups of hot coffee. Despite it being a short five minute walk from her library she had never been inside. It felt cozy and warm, especially on such a chilly day.

“You came.” She barely noticed as he settled next to her in line.

The librarian only nodded.

“I’ve never been here.” She mused.

“I’m as much a regular here as the library. Let me buy you lunch.” His hand seemed to hover behind her back as if wishing to touch her.

“No, please, I couldn’t -”

“But you will. Let me. Please.” The sparkle tangled in that violet eye making her sigh aloud. She blinked letting strands of her brown hair fall into her eyes clouding her sight as they settled on her glasses.

Aemond started small talk about what he had liked and disliked so far in his several months coming to the location. He pointed out his favorites. She noted he settled on healthier menu items, turkey sandwiches or salads with fresh fruits. They were in a bit of a heated discussion on whether fruit belonged in a salad when it was their turn.

“The usual Mr. Targaryen?” The young woman with a nose piercing and big bright eyes asked him. Her eyes looked curious at his lunch companion.

“Yes, but I will also be getting lunch for my date here.”

The noise of the place roared silent in her mind, though she suspected the world continued around them.

Date?

Date?!

Date . . .

“My dear, what would you like?” He asked it as if he had asked her several times.

“Oh, um . . . caesar salad, no croutons, add avocado.”

It was her go to with any location, though avocado was not usually something many cafes could accomedate. This place seemed able to provide her with it. When asked for her drink she had ordered a tea. It seemed like the correct beverage for a location such as this.

Aemond found them a table. One that she suspected was another regular spot. It had an amazing view of a small garden outside. She tugged at her coat as she prepared her tea seeing that they had quite an assortment of flavors. She tried not to focus on how nice he looked with the sun shining in his long silver locks. She certainly wasn’t watching his lips against the cardboard cup sipping at his latte.

She settled her tea on the table before removing her coat. His eye watched her every movement as if taking in each small gesture to memory.

“I’m so glad you came.” She swallowed at the words looking at him. “I really didn’t think you would.”

“Why’s that?”

“You are . . . hmmm . . .” He hummed into his cup before taking a deep sip. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Very professional. I did not think dating a patron would be something you would consider.”

It wasn’t.

She sipped at her fruity tea without saying those words.

“Why did you come to lunch with me then?” He scratched at his cup.

“Curiosity.” She hummed with a shrug.

“Is that all?” He nearly laughed at the notion.

“I would not have come if I thought I wouldn’t enjoy myself.” It was true. Why would she waste her time on a boring person? Aemond Targaryen was intriguing. She could not deny him that.

“You are so kind to say that. Not many people would have taken the offer.”

They watched as their food was settled on the table. Another young girl seemed to let her eyes linger on him as she placed his roasted turkey sandwich with kale chips in front of him. Her salad was nearly a second thought.

“You see.” He told her motioning as the bus girl let them be.

“See?” She positioned her utensils beside her just as she liked.

“Do not play dumb with me, my dear. I know you see.” His voice was lower, harsher, filled with a feeling she could not put her finger on.

“You do not need me to tell you that you are intimidating and handsome.” Her fork stabbed at her salad as she used her knife to cut it into smaller pieces.

“Handsome?” He cooed.

“Don’t get a big head about it. I am aware you know everyone at the library is nearly falling over themselves to bask in your presence.” She was nearly bitter about it as she spoke.

“Not you.”

“No, I’m just better at hiding it.” She was. She had taken the time to hide any feelings she had, bury them deep until she could not feel them any longer. Many of her therapists called it unhealthy, but it never stopped her from doing it.

“What else are you hiding, my dear?” He hadn’t touched his food. Aemond Targaryen was looking at her with a bewitched look as if he could fall in love with her at any moment.

“Keep taking me out on dates and maybe you’ll find out.”

He did just that.

Aemond Targaryen, the more she thought about it, seemed to be enchanted by her presence. They had taken to going out to lunch twice a week. Occasionally they would hold hands on line as they ordered, but it was nothing more than that. Aemond was a true gentleman letting her guide every touch and subject they settled on.

She learned his father had recently passed on leading to a fight within the family for the wealth he left behind. Aemond wanted nothing more than to continue his education. He was in a very intense dual master’s program with a hope to someday become a professor or work in another program in his field. They discussed their favorite museums and topics they both loved.

She was surprised how easy every conversation was.

It was as if they were good friends rekindling their friendship into a romance.

She told him how much she adored every aspect of her job. Organization and learning were her favorite things in the world. His organization was something that caught her eye long before his beauty.

As December approached, he began to ask her out for dinner and cozy outings. As Christmas approached she could very much feel that Aemond Targayen was more than a friend and rather a boyfriend. It was made very apparent when they walked hand in hand in the Christmas market. He had given her a kiss, their first, before letting her drive off home.

They hid their relationship well as he still came to study in the library. He explained he could not resist being close to her, but also he still had much to study. She never truly hid the relationship from her co-workers. Right before Christmas some of her co-workers seemed to figure out her and Aemond were dating.

They didn’t say much.

They could be as coy and silent as her.

On Christmas when she visited her family she received texts from him wishing her well and wistfully waiting to see her again. After Christmas he began to come into the library less though they continued their dates after work with dinners out. He explained his absence due to the fact that he was dealing with the inner workings of his family’s estate due to the sudden inability of his elder brother, Aegon to handle manners.

On New Year’s Eve, Aemond Targaryen took his girlfriend out to a bar, Storm’s End. It wasn’t a typical location they went out to. He usually took her to historical locations buzzing to discuss the history behind the restaurant or museums with elegant restaurants attached. Storm’s End was a bit seedy with shaded lights and a smoky atmosphere.

He had picked her up after work not telling her this was where they were going.

Aemond had pulled out the bar stool and ordered for them. He knew her drink order by now. She loved a fruity martini after a long day. That night she sipped on a mango martini and watched him order a very expensive scotch that made the bartender’s eyes widen. He repeated the price several times before believing that the Targaryen man actually wanted it. Her hand traveled up Aemond’s thigh as the liquid in the glass seemed to disappear at her lips.

She could hear his breath grow a bit heavier as she squeezed his toned thigh.

Alcohol always loosened her inhibitions.

They had not done anything quite sexual as of yet, but it did not mean she didn’t want to.

The opportunity had never truly arisen.

The hottest they had gotten was making out in his car before she decided she needed to go inside and his lips were bright red with her pretty lipstick.

“You keep that up and I’ll have to take you into the bathroom.” He teased brushing his fingers along her knuckles.

“What if that’s my goal for the evening?” She leaned forward feeling tempted to tease him further. “Have you fuck me against a dirty wall in a seedy bar? Is that why you brought me here, Aemond Targaryen?” It was only a tease as she kissed under his ear.

Before anything further could settle between them, a large order of chicken wings settled between them. She was starving. Her fingers pulled apart the wings eager and hungry not caring if hot sauce coated her fingers. He couldn’t help himself watching her. He was glad when she offered her dirty fingers to him to suckle. The way his lips moved made her twitch a bit under her skirt.

It wasn’t a foreign feeling. She wasn’t a prude. Her sexual history was wrought with playful exploration and deep desires. Aemond had occasionally squeezed her thighs as they kissed. His fingers would gently stroke her sex as well. Nothing more had come of it which had been a bit of a disappointment.

She suspected tonight they could take their relationship further.

It was especially true when Aemond seemed to take her chin in his hands. He began to kiss her right there at the bar letting his tongue explore her. The martini was empty by now, giving her a pleasant buzz that allowed her arms to wrap around him to settle into the pleasure of feeling him. Her breath was hurried as her fingers pulled at his long locks. Aemond didn’t seem to mind how enthusiastic she was being. His hands anchored her hips to the stool even as she tried to lift up to crawl into his lap.

“You are so fuckin needy.” He said between kisses. “You want me so bad don’t you, beautiful?” She licked her lower lip at his words. “Come on now. Let’s get you home, my dear.”

She saw him fish out a single bill from his wallet. Her hands stroked his thigh feeling how toned he was. She would not get used to feeling the muscles on his thigh and under his shirt. He was so fuckin’ toned for a man who seemed glued to old dusty books.

“Gods,” He whimpered. Her cold hands were inching under his now untucked button up. “Relax. I’ll take care of you soon enough.”

It nearly sounded like a threat.

She didn’t mind it. It was very clear how badly she wanted him. She should have been embarrassed. There were whistles across the bar. All eyes on her as she was being quite bad feeling him up in front of every living person in this bar. It didn’t matter to her. She’d never see these people again. If she felt the need she could dry hump her boyfriend here if she thought he wouldn’t spank her later.

Though she wasn’t against spanking.

“Aemond.” She whispered against his ear.

“Fuckin’ don’t,” He cooed. Aemond Targaryen pulled her off the bar stool. “I’m glad I drove. You’re a mess and only from one drink.” She had forgotten what martinis did to her. She had gone out with Aemond having a glass of white wine, but the harder stuff made her a bit handsy.

Well maybe more than a bit.

He drove her back to her place, a small flat not far from the bar.

When he parked she nearly crawled on top of him whispering his name against his pretty lips.

“Do you want to come inside?” There was a lilt of naughtiness in her tone.

“I feel if I don’t you’ll have all kinds of fun without me.” He grabbed her chin looking her over. “Your glasses are all fogged up, silly girl.” He kissed her cheek then down her neck. “So fuckin’ beautiful.” She shivered as he licked and kissed her neck, teasing the fur around the collar of her coat. “Come on. Let’s get you warmed up.”

Her mind at the thought of going inside became more focused. She didn’t want to feel too needy and desperate their first time having sex. She wanted to be able to feel every second of Aemond Targaryen taking control of her body or however he wanted her. She shifted taking the lead to pull him inside. Aemond surprisingly let her take control letting his hand rest eagerly in hers.

The key pushed into the lock with ease.

Her mind floated to the idea that he would be pushing his cock inside her in a similar manner later tonight.

She settled beside the door looking about for a moment. Panic rose in her thoart at the thought that her flat might be a nightmare. There were some piles of books beside the sofa in the living room, but not much else was out of place except . . .

“Samson!” She hissed seeing her lithe black cat hop on the counter in the open kitchen just as she removed her last shoe. “Psst! Get down.” The cat looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Gods!”

She started padding her feet over to the cat who immediately retreated into the living room. Aemond gave a soft chuckle watching the ordeal unfold.

“Oh you think this is funny?” Her grin softened slightly.

“Yes. You are quite adorable when you are a bit mad.” His eye watched the cat slink under the couch. Samson watched him with yellow eyes as his tail swished back and forth. “He’s a bit skittish.” She threw her coat toward the couch, though Samson was so used to the gesture he did not move from under it.

“You aren’t around cats a lot are you?” She took his hand in hers trying to pull his attention away from the suspicious feline. “Let me show you the bedroom. Kitty will be fine.” Her mind thought about saying something lewd about a different kind of pussy cat, but she was too needy for words any longer.

It seemed to work. His eye settled on her following like a lost puppy ready for a delicious treat. She’d give him anything he needed tonight while not compromising her desires. Despite her up tight demeanor she was curious to see what Aemond Targaryen desired in the bedroom. He seemed quite enamored with her thighs, squeezing and caressing them any chance he got.

When she pulled him into her bedroom she did not give him a chance to look around. Her arms pulled him down to crash into her lips. Her tongue was eager to push inside his mouth and whimper small noises against his plush lips. His hands settled on her brown checkered dress pushing her close into him.

She could feel how hard he was for her.

It was pure desperation.

Her arms pulled him down, nearly ready to jump on him.

“Mmmm. . .” He hummed against her lips. “Wait.” She let herself obey even though her body wanted to reject his words.

He pulled from her letting his gaze settle over her. Aemond licked his lips. She could see him breathing so heavily. He was struggling to gain his composure, to obey his own word of warning. He hummed again before licking his lips again. His finger pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. It was then she noticed how hard she was breathing.

“So bloody gorgeous.” He said in nearly a single breath.

“So are you.” She mused with a soft innocent smile trying her best not to touch him again.

“Don’t do that.” He warned. Aemond straightened letting his eye tease across her bright face.

“I’m not doing anything.” She shifted on her sock clad feet.

“Yes, you are.” Aemond tucked her hair behind her ear. “Just standing there with that little smile.” His fingers traced her lips as he spoke. “And your glasses framed silver as if I wouldn’t notice.” He tapped his finger at the corner of the glasses, a reflective silver frame. “You’ve wanted me for so much longer then I realized, haven’t you? I should have noticed sooner. I could have been doing these things,” He moved his other hand up her skirt passed her panties to her wetting slit. “To you so much sooner.” She gasped feeling his finger slip inside her. His palm held her face as he fingered her.

“You are so fuckin wet.” His voice was low and teasing. His nose nuzzled against her cheek. “You want me to fuck you? Hmmm . . . tell me what you want me to do to you.” She couldn’t think as he pumped his finger inside her. “Oh, my dear. Can’t tell me hmmm . . .” She shook out her hair. He tucked it back together into that little tight bun atop her head. “How about I make a request then?”

She nearly cried out when he pulled his hand away from inside her. His hand started to unbutton his black dress shirt. Aemond pulled it off tossing it to the floor. Her eyes raked over his toned chest for only a moment. He was fluid as he undressed taking his shoes, socks, pants, then boxers off until he was completely nude in front of her. He stroked his cock, from base to tip slowly watching her squirm to move under his gaze.

“I want you to sit on my face.”

He moved to her soft white comforter settling on the pillow on her bed.

She blinked for a moment taking in his request.

“Did you not here me, love?” He sat up slightly looking her over. “Come sit on my face, my dear. Let me eat that sweet cunt of yours until you are trembling.” She blinked again before letting her fingers pull off her silk panties. She reached behind her to find the zipper of her dress.

“No.” He said sharply. “Keep the dress on.”

“You don’t want to see me?” It was an automatic reaction of self doubt that bubbled at her lips.

“That’s not it, love.” She started to kneel on the bed as he spoke. He took her hands in his. “I have a bit of a fantasy.” Ah there it was.

“Librarian fetish?” She was no stranger to that sort of thing.

“Not exactly.” His soft blush told her differently though.

“No shame in expressing what you like, my dear.” She used his own words against him. “Tell me. I suppose you want me to keep my glasses on too.” She adjusted said glasses up the bridge of her nose. She watched him swallow. His cock even twitched. It was such a simple gesture and he had nearly creamed himself.

“Please.” He was nearly begging now. “Sit on my face. Let me make you feel good.”

She hiked up her skirt rolling the fabric as she moved over him. She let her pussy lips skate across his cock as she moved. The groan was so low and needy she wondered if she needed to settle on his long hardness right then and there. Instead she settled for lowering on his face.His lips suckled her loudly causing her to gasp deeply.

“Oh, so fuckin’ good. Yes.” She tried to focus on her breathing. The skirt blocked her view from his lovely face, though she could still feel how good his lips were treating her. “Let me know if I’m too heavy or you need a - ahhhhhhh!” She felt her hips moving against his mouth riding his tongue out as it found her clit to suckle.

She had never ridden a man’s face before. Yes she had gotten eaten out, but this was a very different experience all together. Her hands positioned themselves against the plush headboard of her bed. It rocked banging softly against her egg shell colored walls. His hands held her steady and close to his face. She could not help herself in leaning into his mouth that latched onto her. His nose flicked back and forth stimulating her clit that she felt was just as needy as her.

Her breath heaved in and out trying to focus on being able to breath. Her whimpering was a bit pathetic, but the more noises she made the more vigorous Aemond seemed to become. His hands were under her dress holding her hips against his mouth. She could hear the loud suckling against her cunt along with the slobbering mess he was drooling over her cunt. His moans and delicious little noises spurned her on.

“Aemond, I’m close. Aemond . . .” There were no words any longer, but she could feel him move her skirt. Her eyes closed as she felt herself unravel on his mouth.

Her hands laid flat against the headboard. Her hips rutted against his mouth riding out her little high. Her eyes finally settled downward to see he had moved her skirt to watch her face as she came undone. She licked her lips seeing how latched he still was on her cunt. It felt raw feeling her cunt in his mouth, seeing him looking up at her with blown back black eyes.

She started to move, but he anchored her there in his mouth, moaning in protest. He closed his eye, beginning to kiss and lick her cunt then slowly toward her inner thighs.

“Aemond . . . please.” She didn’t know what to say after. He was moaning and licking. She felt her face flush as she could feel her arousal leaking from her. “Let me . . .”

“You are behaving perfectly for me.” He said between kisses on her cunt. “Ride my face again. Just like before.” He moaned into her again.

“Don’t you want me to ride your cock?” She groaned so sweetly as she nibbled her bottom lip.

“Fuckin’ temptress.” He groaned, releasing her. “Go on then. Get on it.”

She pumped her hips a bit over his lips letting his nose tease her clit before maneuvering to where he wanted her. She hovered over his cock. Her hands skated over his toned abs not able to help herself in giving a tone that spoke to her admiration of his body.

“If you liked how my pussy tasted,” Slowly, ever so slowly she lowered herself despite the impatience that screamed across his features. “You’ll love how it feels.”

He cried out with her as she sank on him in one quick motion. Her cunt was used to a slow easy stretch that she wanted to test herself to see how she might react if she let his cock in with a singular motion. It felt unexpected, a bit unpleasant, and incredibly satisfying.

“Gods, you are so full of surprises.” He groaned under her. She saw tears catch at the corner of his eye. He let out a little whimper again. His hands snaked to her hips, so round and canting. “Shit, you feel . . . Gods . . .” She was moving. It was causing him to groan and lose his words. “Please don’t stop.”

One hand anchored her hip while the other moved to knead her breast. She helped him find the right rhythm of squeezing and brushing his thumb over her nipple which was rapidly hardening under her bra and dress. Her hands caressed his torso wanting so badly to feel him inside and out. Her hand occasionally raked through his long silver hair.

“So beautiful.” She mumbled. “All mine.” She loved to be a little possessive when it came to the people she loved. Her mouth pulled close to him testing to see if he would let her say those words to him without wanting to turn the tables on her, possess her fully.

“I’m . . . yours.” He breathed between her kisses.

It prompted her to ride him hard. It allowed him to curse. He let out words in a language she did not understand. The tone of it sent her out of control. His hands were against the small of her back pushing over her clothes harder against him. She kept kissing him, riding him, and calling out his name. Her body skated past an orgasm. Her hand snaked under the skirt nearly crushed by her own movement.

She stroked her clit, but he came before she had a chance.

His softening cock made her whimper.

He hummed as he let himself fall back on the pillow.

Aemond pushed her hip slightly, a gesture for her to dismount from him. She suddenly didn’t feel so in control or sexy rolling onto her back beside him.

“Good?” She wondered nuzzling her nose to his throat.

“We’ll get there.” He chuckled. His eye watched as her face grew near offensive. “I prefer to have my partner orgasm first, but first times are about learning. You are such an interesting subject. I can’t wait to study what makes you tick further.” He wrapped her in his arms, snuggling her.

She felt his lips kiss her forehead.

“Happy New Year, my dear.” He whispered against the shell of her ear. “Let me know when you are ready to go again.” His lips curved against her cheek. She could feel his silver hairs tickle her neck.

“Ready whenever you are, love. This time I want you to see all of me.”

The sex was good.

The sex got better with each passing day.

Every date ended at her place, in her bed. His appetite for her was nearly all consuming. The little brunette was able to put the Targaryen man in place if he came on too strong. It was rare though. Her hunger for him was just as dark and consuming.

She had yet to see his place, which bristled her only when her co-workers mentioned it.

“What’s he hiding over there, huh?” They asked.

Her mind often wandered of what she truly knew about Aemond Targaryen besides the surface level things she saw or read. She knew he was intelligent, but that was clear seeing him study every day or looking at his various professional profiles online. He was well mannered. He loved to touch her any chance he could get. He desired her openly when they were sitting at a bar or in a restaurant or at the theater.

She didn’t mind constantly being touched. There was a sweetness in having a needy man at her heels wanting her so badly he’d do just about anything. It felt a bit possessive at times, but when she told him to stop he was very obedient. She suspected being told what to do turned him on.

Her little dirty talk in the bedroom had kept him coming back for more. Or maybe it was her alone. He made her feel so special. He was beginning to lavish her with gifts besides fancy dinners and mind blowing sex.

Fuck he ate her out so fuckin good.

He never gave her a single piece of jewelry. Every gift was thoughtful and exclusive to her. Aemond had her favorite Jane Austen book rebound and custom made. It was etched in a solid gold cover looking like a glorious piece of art. She had nearly cried when he given it to her. Aemond gave her a small custom set of seeds with men he hired taking over her outdoor garden when he saw her reading over how to grow her own food.

She was waiting until the spring to plant them on her little porch outside her flat, but the landscaping had been a delight.

“He’s too good to be true.”

The words echoed in her head from her mother, her co-workers, and anyone else who seemed jealous of her happiness. Those little words ticked in her brain every time she felt too happy with her silver haired beau. Her heart pounded at the thought she might lose him to her own inability to take happiness at face value.

Her fingers still trailed in her overthinking.

Curiosity itched at her brain, but she refused to let it win out today.

He was taking her to Rook’s Rest, the most exclusive and expensive resturant. On Valentine’s Day no less. She had questioned how he could get in several times. He had simply told her he knew she would love their menu and he wanted nothing but the best for his woman.

Aemond had started out the day sending a delivery of a dozen perfect roses in a hand blown glass vase that appeared as the open mouth of a dragon.

He didn’t spend all day at the library instead letting her anticipate his arrival when he picked her up from her flat.

She wore a long black gown with silver collared jewelry and pearl earrings.

“The things I am going to do to you tonight . . .”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time Mr. Targaryen.”

He did.

Fuck did he know how to show her a good time.

Perfect dinner.

Perfect atmosphere.

Perfect company.

When he pulled up to the high rise penthouse she was surprised. It was gorgeous, tall, and a bit overwhelming in the moonlight.

“Let me show you where I live.”

Her heart pounded as she craned her neck. He pulled her into the elevator finding her lips and hips. He grabbed her, whimpering low and needy. Her toes curled as she perched on her toes. Even though she had heels on she was still so much shorter than him.

She barely had time to truly take in Aemond’s penthouse.

She knew that when the elevator opened it was to his entire room.

Everything else blurred.

There were certain aspects of the night that stuck in her brain.

He had put a red ribbon around her throat requesting that was all she wear.

His hand squeezing and spanking her ass.

His lips eating her out like she was his dessert.

His cock so hard bending her over the bed as he fucked her from behind.

His cum flowing against her cheeks.

It happened over and over again until she wanted to beg him to stop, but didn’t because deep down she felt so incredible.

She felt his hands grip around her waist in a semi possessive, semi comforting gesture. He nuzzled his nose in the crock of her neck where the ribbon met her skin. The librarian took the opportunity to let her curiosity win out deciding to scroll through her phone.

Her mind fell down a curiosity hole going over that strange bar on New Year’s Eve. She researched the bar itself learning it had a nefarious history. Since it first opened back in the 70s there had been an insane number of bar fights and alleged murders that occurred both inside and outside of Storm’s End.

Her fingers halted on the most recent death that had lingered on Halloween night just a bloke away from the bar.

A stabbing.

Lucerys Velaryon.

Aemond Targaryen’s nephew.

Several articles indicated Aemond Targaryen as a person of interest citing a childhood rivalry and -

Her fingers clicked out of the article.

She looked over to the man cuddling beside her.

Did she really know him?

She blinked away that thought. Her eyes settled onto the room. Her mind noted details. It was dark. The walls were coated black. His bed wasn’t high, but low. It was the easiest bed to get on for her tiny frame. He had no doors in his penthouse. Everything was open including the bathroom. She peeked in from the bed, seeing that instead of a mirror above his sink there was a painting of a beautiful landscape of a dark stormy night over a looming castle on a monstrous island filled with mountains.

There were no mirrored surfaces. She could even see from here that his kitchen was so bare. She decided to slowly wander over once Aemond entered REM. She felt his little lashes twitch against her backside. Her hips slipped out of his grasp easily though she could feel his exhale of hot breath at her back.

She ventured into the kitchen, nude and feeling out the rest of the penthouse. The little brunette had suspected his place to be spotless, but she could see now Aemond Targaryen had an organized mess. His books were not on his empty shelves, but instead piled at each side of his love seat. The titles were very much him, textbooks on history, books of maps, of business proposals, and titles on real estate.

On the counter top in his beautiful kitchen were a smattering of menus. Upon entering she could feel a sense of coldness there. Aemond had never been shy about his lack of cooking skills. Now she could see how truly bare the environment was. He had a smattering of greasy take away menus on the counter, folded and unfolded as if he had looked over them too many times. Each drawer she opened showed her the studio penthouse’s kitchen had never been touched.

Every utensil had a newness and shine to it that verged on disturbing. In the refrigerator laid takeaway leftovers, a case of beer, and a bottle of overpriced lemonade. In the freezer were microwaves meals, a stockpile as if he were preparing for an apocalypse. They nearly fell atop her when she opened it.

Her body, nude and slightly vulnerable, moved to the open walk in closet between the kitchen and living room.

No door.

No secrets.

It could be the reason he waited so long to bring her here.

Aemond Targaryen was a bare mess here. Her eyes faltered to his position in bed. He pulled the expensive silk sheets to his sweaty form. Her feet felt warm on the heated floor. He had bragged about installing it letting her mind wonder what it felt like to wiggle her toes on such warmth. Her hand flicked on the light.

It wasn’t the contents of the closet that struck her first.

Those were boring and unremarkable. She had seen his entire wardrobe at this point in their relationship. What she had not seen was the newspaper clippings that pressed firmly against the wall of the closet’s entryway. The articles were of take overs of large corporations from his father. There were articles that mentioned the name Aemond Targaryen, tabloids that talked about the day he lost his eye in a simple minded childhood fight with his nephew, Lucerys. In the middle of it all was a blown up article of the night his nephew died.

Every mention of Lucerys was underlined in red ink, over and over again.

He could not forget.

He could not forgive what was done to him.

“Naughty little girl.” She felt his weight against her back. His hand played with the bow loops around her neck. “Too curious for your own good. Hmmm . . .” His kiss was sloppy at her throat. Her eyes closed on instinct.

“Don’t act surprised.” The librarian was constantly looking for more information. The academic was always looking to learn. It’s what made them good together. It’s what made her terrified and aroused as he pinned her against the looming article on the wall.

“I don’t have to explain myself like some villain. You understand, my dear. You understand what needs to be done to you.”

There were two options.

Another article to the wall for discovering what she knew.

He was responsible for his nephew’s death.

Or . . .

“You can feel my choice right?”

His hand snaked between her legs to her soaked sex.

It didn’t matter what he had done.

She was too curious to find out more.

“Sir, the library is closing.” It was a soft tease on a summer Friday.

Aemond Targaryen looked up from his reading, no more studying.

Graduation was tomorrow.

He had on an expensive gold plated eyepatch. His silver dress shirt and pressed pants showed her he was ready for their evening out. Aemond now spent his time reading books she liked. She had given him a list. He was a fast reader and was nearly done with the several titles of what she deemed as classics. He loved talking to her about them, especially the non-fiction ones though there were not enough to his liking.

Her little mouth still frowned at his short hair, but he had insisted on a shorter look for his graduation.

A new start he had teased.

“I’m aware. I just need some assistance with an item.” He let the thick romance book snap closed.

Gods she hated that he didn’t use a bookmark.

The words were a beacon for her to follow. Her confidence with him had grown enough that she didn’t sheepishly look around her anymore. She followed him with a small spring in her step. He now was used to looking behind him for her, admiring her long pleated blue skirt and button up that had resewn buttons.

Aemond Targaryen loved pulling her little buttons off.

They were in a corner of the library. She instantly aware of why.

No cameras.

He pushed a metal step stool in the corner, never moving his hands.

“Up you go.” She obeyed.

The gesture was unfamiliar, but a fantasy he had spoken so many times. He looked her over for a moment, observing her on the stool. She could nearly hear his heart pounding with desire. They were eye to eye in this position, no longer was she a little meek thing looking up at him.

“You know what I want.”

“But it’s more fun if you take it.” Her response made him started to undo his pants.

The movement was quick as he took his fantasy into reality, fucking her in the corner of the library, no camera, no condoms, just pure desire. It might have taken him a moment or two to get his cock hard, but she barely noticed. She felt his spit coated cock rut inside her perfectly.

“You know what I’m going to do to you?” It was hardly a whispered question against her ear.

“I’m going to cum so hard inside you, you’ll be leaking my cum from your pussy until we get home.” He called his house their home even though she hadn’t moved in yet. “Then I’m going to fill you up again tonight and tomorrow and every night until I get bored. But you know I’ll never get bored of you, my dear.” She held back a whimper.

“Then you’ll move in at the end of the summer. I’ll keep you as my little whore and you’ll continue to be a good little librarian here.” He started to move faster. “I’ll marry you in a year’s time so I’ll truly be yours.” He loved being hers. “Then I’ll fuck this cunt up with baby after baby. I think four would be well within your threshold.” He palmed her belly. The thought of being full of his children made her bite her lip.

“You’ll be so happy. I’ll be so happy.” He grunted as if the thought of their shared happiness got him close to his orgasm. “I’ll work as a curator at a museum, preferably one with ancient weapons and about history. You’ll remain here, my little personal librarian. A mother. My little perfect wife.”

She was so close. She whispered his name.

“You’d like that, my dear. A family, love, discovering new things about each other every day. Would that sate your curious mind?”

“Yes . . .” It was so soft and wanting of the future, the future he imagined.

“Milk my cock then. Let it be the start of our future together.” He pounded into her making lewd noises in the corner.

Her mind felt white as she unraveled around him.

He gave her what he promised.

Not only his cum, but the promise of a future of curious behavior and his utter devotion.

#vbbships #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #ewan nation #ewanverse #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #modern aemond targaryen #modern aemond x reader

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immoral-stranger · 5 months ago

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𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐞 // 𝐋𝐍𝟒

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟏. 🍓 “You’ve never done me wrong, except for that one time we don’t talk about.” – Boygenius, True Blue.

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: none? maybe they're a little horny? this shit is too sweet. it'll give you cavities. oh and you need to have read linger beforehand to understand the dynamic and characters in this.

A/N: my babies Lando and Bunny make a comeback. takes place like a year after the original fic. please tell me what you think ♡

Summer break for Lando usually consisted of long days on a beach somewhere warm. Yachts, beach clubs, and sand between his toes. After dusk, his summer break consisted of long nights in the VIP section at some club. House music, sweaty bodies, and alcohol.

Getting up at 8 in the morning to take a casual jog around a suburban area in England wouldn’t have been on his agenda if you’d had asked him a year ago when he was painfully single.

Now, there was no place he’d rather be. Now, summer was different. It was softer, simpler, an, to his complete and utter surprise, infinitely better.

Because you didn’t like Ibiza, or Saint Tropez, or even Monaco. You would compromise and say that it was fine at times, but Lando could see through you like glass. You tolerated the extravagance, but it never made you light up in the same way being at home did. Would it have been easier if you liked the country he lived in? Sure, but it wasn’t like Lando hated England. With a certain disconnect, he actually loved the place. He grew up there. His family was there. You were there.

So, as much as his phone pinged with Instagram stories of his friends posing behind DJ booths or lounging on sunbeds, he didn’t envy them. He couldn’t complain.

Not when he was jogging through the quiet streets of your neighbourhood, the soft morning breeze brushing against his skin, the world still drowsy with sleep.

Not when he knew what was waiting for him when he got back—what he would find as he ran up the pathway to your childhood home, up the stairs, and behind the door with a Moulin Rouge poster blu-tacked to it.

The gravel crunched beneath his feet as he slowed to a walk, approaching the house that had, over time, started to feel more like home than his own place. He jogged up the front steps, slipping inside, already anticipating the comfort of warm, sleepy domesticity that awaited him upstairs.

But first, a shower. He wasn’t an idiot. He wouldn’t crawl into bed with you, still sticky from his run. And he made tea—you liked waking up to tea.

The old wooden floors creaked as he entered your bedroom. He felt himself smiling before he could even take in the full sight of you. You were sat on the bed, a notebook in your lap as you scribbled down something, chewing on your bottom lip in concentration. He loved your bedroom. It warmed his heart over and over again to step into an atmosphere that was you and only you. A white, sheer canopy hung over your bed, twinkling even in the bright summer morning from the fairy lights tangled up in it.

He recognised the t-shirt you were wearing as one that had once been his, but he didn’t complain. How could he? Beneath it, just visible, were underwear he’d given you as a joke—because buying you expensive lingerie was pointless when your favourite style was always cheeky boy shorts. These, in particular, were innocent enough in white cotton—except for the bold, hot pink Playboy bunny logos scattered across them.

Lando had developed a habit of getting you things with bunnies on them, and you had developed a habit of wearing them just to humour him.

“Morning, Bun-Bun.”

Your head lifted, eyes blinking away the haze of deep focus. You still looked newly awakened. He could see the way your mind slowly reeled itself back from wherever it had wandered as you took in the sight of him, freshly showered and shirtless in your doorway.

“Oh, you made tea?” Your voice was soft as you reached for one of the mugs he was carrying, fingers curling around the warmth. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

Lando grinned, climbing onto the bed beside you. He settled against the headboard, careful not to spill his own tea as he stretched his legs out beneath the covers. “Only daily.”

He had never been one to crave stillness before—his life had always been a constant blur, and he liked it that way. But here, in your childhood bedroom, wrapped in soft edges and familiar scents, he felt something rare; he felt safe. It was almost like make-believe, the canopy overhead and your floral seersucker bedsheets making him feel as if he’d tumbled into a fairytale, Alice in Wonderland-style. And for once, he wasn’t desperate to leave.

You looked over at him as you took a long sip of your tea. Wordlessly, he took your mug when you were done, placing it on the nightstand together with his own. Your gaze flickered down to his bare chest, lingering for half a second too long before your brows lifted.

“You should really put a shirt on,” you remarked.

Lando’s laughter was low and unbothered. “We’re alone in this house.”

“What if my dad comes home? Or Matteo decides to get a ride home with one of his friends?”

Lando exhaled through his nose, amused. You always found things to question. Even the littlest things. Or things that didn’t even make sense half the time. He was lucky he liked hearing your voice so much. If he had once believed you to be shy and reserved, he now knew the opposite.

“Your dad is still in Manchester for work, which is fourhours away. And need I remind you that Matteo asked for us to pick him up from his sleepover at one o’clock? It’s only nine,” he explained, smiling. “Admit it, you just don’t want to see me shirtless because it’s distracting.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes as you tucked your legs beneath you, pulling your notebook closer. “Okay, yeah. I really need to finish this.”

If you hadn’t been so intent on finishing what you were writing, and if Lando hadn’t revelled in the tranquillity of the morning, he would have already pinned you beneath him, taking you—devouring you—right there under the twinkling canopy. No hesitation. No shame. Just want. Just need.

But it could wait. All you had was time with each other. That was a beautiful thing in and of itself.

Lando shifted, inching closer, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder as he peered down at your scrawled-out notes. The faint scratch of your pen against paper filled the comfortable silence. He couldn’t really see what words you were writing down, but he knew why you were writing and that it was becoming slightly urgent to finish it.

“I still can’t believe they’re making us do this,” Lando groaned after a moment. “Holding a speech at their wedding? Couldn’t they have asked Oscar’s sisters? Or Jasmine’s overly excited mother?”

“They wanted one simple, nice, and kind speech,” you reminded him. “Oscar’s sisters would roast him into oblivion, and Jasmine’s mother would never stop crying. You know this as much as they do.”

Lando huffed. “But still, Bunny… I’m too awkward.”

“Which is why we’re doing it together. You’re lucky I’m such a good actor.”

“That you are.”

Lando watched as you scribbled down another note, the glimmer of determination in your eyes something he could never get enough of.

A simple, late summer wedding in the English countryside. Just mere weeks away, and you and Lando were toastmasters. He hadn’t even known that was a thing before Jasmine had run him over with wedding preparations. You were, of course, also her maid of honour. Lando had already seen the dress she had picked out for you, and while the wedding was an exciting thing overall, he really couldn’t wait to see you all dolled up in a gown.

“Have you written anything yourself?” you asked him, looking up from your notebook.

Picking up his phone, Lando scrolled through his notes, looking for the right one. “I, uhm… I wrote down a little joke about the first time he introduced me to Jasmine and how she said she would hang me by my underwear from a flagpole outside the MTC if I ever crashed into him.”

“Sounds like her,” you laughed, leaning over to see his screen, practically falling over him in the process, making a mess of the ruffled sheets between you. “Wait, you’re writing their wedding speech in your notes app?”

Lando didn’t understand what was so wrong about it. He would have to memorise it anyway. Or, at least, he thought so. Standing there, in front of an entire wedding reception, with a cue card of sorts would feel insincere.

“You’re writing your part in a Hello Kitty notebook with a glitter gel pen,” he pointed out, picking up your notebook, looking at your sparkly pink handwriting.

He found even the smallest things about you completely adorable.

“It’s still more thoughtful than using an iPhone,” you shot back, grinning.

Lando draped his arm around your waist, gently pulling you closer until you were nestled against him, your head resting softly on his bare chest. He glanced down at what you'd written, a smile tugging at his lips as he read about Oscar and Jasmine's first date—one you'd helped plan. It had gone horribly wrong when Oscar got lost on public transport and showed up 40 minutes late. A 16-year-old Jasmine had called you, crying, just as Oscar arrived, catching her mid-rant, snot running from her nose. From that moment on, Oscar had been completely soft for her—and probably never showed up late again.

“I can’t believe those two are getting married. They are younger than I am,” Lando heard himself say, almost sighing at the realisation.

“Mhm, because you’re so old,” you joked, your palm hitting his chest lightly.

The two-year age gap between you and him didn’t seem like much. But seeing how Jasmine and Oscar, who were your exact age, were already so far ahead in their relationship sparked an undeniable sense of dread in him about ageing. He felt both ancient and a little behind.

“It makes sense, though. They’ve been dating since they were, what, sixteen?”

You nodded. He felt your hair as it moved up and down against his skin. “My parents had me and got married by twenty-two. It’s not that uncommon.”

Lando’s brow furrowed. “You think Jasmine’s pregnant?”

“That’s not at all what I said.”

He looked down at you, catching the sheepish smile on your face. It was probably for the best. He couldn’t handle someone younger than him having kids. Especially when those kids would probably call him uncle in the future. That felt backwards. His own nieces were enough to get the cogwheels turning in his head about that he should probably start thinking about having a family of his own.

A moment of quiet followed, the weight of his next question pressing before he even asked it. The look on his face made it clear he had something serious to say, his fingers drumming absentmindedly against the bedsheet as he gathered his thoughts.

“Do you ever think about marriage yourself?” he wondered softly.

Your breath caught slightly at the question, eyes flickering to him as you searched for his intent. “To you? Or in general?”

Lando huffed a small, amused laugh, but there was a nervous edge to it. “I’d hope it be with me.”

“Sometimes,” you admitted. Your voice was vulnerable, but there was no hesitation. “I think we could make it work.”

Lando’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile, one that made his dimples dip into his cheeks. “I want Matteo as ring bearer,” he mused, his tone lighter now, “and we’re getting revenge on Jasmine and Oscar by making them do a long-ass speech. Maybe a choreographed dance.”

You snorted. “Mhm, and what would that speech be about?”

“Definitely how you got a nosebleed the first time I tried to kiss you.” His grin widened as he glanced at you, eyes alight with mischief. “Or how they heard us have sex through the walls of that Italian villa.”

Your cheeks burnt at the memory, heat crawling up your neck. “Lando!” you groaned, shoving at his arm as he burst into laughter, the sound filling the space with just as much light as the sun filtering through lace curtains.

He nudged his knee against yours beneath the sheets, his laughter softening into something more affectionate. “Maybe they’ll just roast me into oblivion, because they like you more than they like me.”

“That’s not true,” you murmured, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. “I don’t think they have many bad things to say about you.”

“I’ve been an idiot so many times.”

“Nuh-uh.” You shook your head firmly. “You’ve never done me wrong… except for that one time we don’t talk about.”

Lando blinked, confused. “Wait, what? I don’t know what moment your talking about.”

He was forgetful and sometimes a little ignorant. In reality, he probably thought he’d done you wrong about a million different times. But he couldn’t think of a single defining moment that you would’ve deemed as the most fragile in your relationship.

“Was it when I forgot your birthday?” he guessed.

“You’ve never forgotten my birthday?” you said, almost like a question, as a crease formed between your brows.

“Oh, you didn’t realise? Our weekend to New York that was totally planned and not at all because Jasmine called me the night before your birthday to ask what I had gotten you?” Lando couldn’t help but let out a little pathetic laugh.

In his defence, no one had mentioned that it was your birthday to him. And he also hadn’t thought about asking or remembering the date. He was lucky to have had time off when it did happen. One private jet and a hotel stay later, you’d had a perfect birthday in New York City, seeing a Broadway show for the first time.

“I didn’t know about that!” you exclaimed, a look of mock horror painted on your face. “But no matter what, I still had a lovely time there, so I would never say that was a wrongdoing from your side.”

“I guess Jasmine is better at keeping secrets than I thought,” Lando mumbled to himself, still thinking about what you could be thinking of. “Was it when I accidentally stood Matteo up? You cried and yelled at me because of that.”

That was the first and only time you’d yelled at him out of anger. Out of sadness or anxiety, you’d done it multiple times before. But you weren’t the angry type. So when it slipped his mind that he should’ve taken Matteo to an England football game instead of Max, you had uncharacteristically lashed out on him. It wasn’t necessarily because of the game, but because of the principle of letting down an 11-year-old little boy.

“I didn’t yell,” you corrected him.

“No, you did.” Lando smiled gently. “I deserved it, though. You were being protective of your baby brother, and I was being a muppet for not remembering what I’d promised him.”

“It’s still not what I had in mind,” you said, shaking your head.

“Okay, you’ve stumped me. What are you talking about?”

You bit your lip, watching him carefully before whispering,“After Brazil last year.” His face softened at the realisation. “You were awake for like two days straight and refused to speak to anyone.”

Lando exhaled through his nose, gaze flickering down, hands fidgeting now. He was letting you continue, although he found the words difficult to hear.

“We never really talked that through,” you continued, meeting his gaze. “And you feeling so bad and not letting me help you made me feel like the worst girlfriend in the world.”

His hand found yours beneath the sheets, thumb stroking over your knuckles in silent apology.

“And I’ll always understand that your job is nothing like anything I’ve ever experienced, and I’ll never blame you for being distant at times or closed off because of it.” You squeezed his hand gently, grounding him. “But for two days straight? Yeah, do that again and… I’ll be the one to hang you from a flagpole.”

A breath of laughter escaped him, but it was almost out of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Bun-Bun.”

“I know you are,” you murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to his shoulder, lingering just long enough for him to feel the warmth of your lips against his skin.

A beat passed before Lando cleared his throat, picking up your notebook to stare at the messy handwriting again. “What do I get if I finish this fucking speech?”

You smirked. “Naked cuddles?”

“Sold.”

“Do I not get anything? I feel like I’ve written most of it anyway,” you teased, quirking a brow at him.

Lando studied you for a moment, his lips twitching. “I think your hopeless romantic ass secretly adores doing this for them.” He kissed your temple, his breath warm against your skin. “But sure, I can give you a reward,” he added, pressing another quick kiss just below your ear.

A third kiss was placed on your neck, and a fourth on your collarbone. You felt the wetness from his lips as he started to gently suck on your delicate skin, his hand travelling under your shirt to cup your breast in his open palm.

“Can I play with it soft?” you whispered under your breath, swallowing down a moan.

Lando groaned dramatically, letting his head fall back against the pillow as he momentarily stopped touching you, acting appalled.

“Anything but that, Bunny. Anything but that.”

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think ♡

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the-winter-spider · 7 months ago

Text

Waiting Room | 3/3

Bucky x avenger!Reader

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: Angst......

A/N: Yall i really had no idea where i was gonna take this lol lets remember this was suppose to be a one shot turn into a 3 part mini series lol 😂 not sure if i like this but its whats happening so lmao

Part One

Part Two

----

The med bay was suffocating, a stark, sterile room that felt more like a cage than a place of healing. The white walls reflected the harsh fluorescent lights, the steady hum of machinery filling the space with an oppressive monotony. The faint beeping of monitors, the quiet whir of fans in the equipment, and the faint antiseptic smell in the air were all reminders of where you were—trapped, restrained, and utterly disconnected from the life you once knew.

You laid rigid in the medical bed, your wrists bound by thick restraints bolted to the frame. The straps were reinforced—designed for beings far more powerful than the average soldier. They had to be, for super-soldiers, gods, and now, you. You stared blankly at the far wall, your expression as hollow as your gaze.

Tony and Bruce hovered near their workstations, their faces illuminated by the glow of holograms and screens streaming endless data. They barely spoke, their silence a testament to the weight of what they were trying to undo. Each test they ran came back with the same damning conclusion: the serum coursing through your veins wasn’t just making you stronger, faster, more dangerous. It was chaining you—body and mind—to commands that had been burned into your neural pathways. The serum wasn’t just invasive; it had fused with the super-soldier formula already in your system, weaving itself into the very fabric of who you were.

Bruce leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as if trying to massage away the weight of what he was reading. His voice, usually measured, wavered slightly. “This isn’t just physical,” he muttered, glancing at Tony. “It’s neurological. It’s rewriting her instincts, suppressing her emotions… amplifying aggression.”

Tony, who usually filled even the heaviest moments with quips or sarcasm, was silent. His fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard, his brows furrowed in concentration. “Yeah, I see it,” he said finally, his tone clipped and uncharacteristically somber. “This isn’t some dollar-store brainwashing. Whoever did this knew what they were doing. They’re rewriting her at the molecular level. I’ve seen a lot of tech—nothing like this.”

Behind the reinforced glass separating the med bay from the observation room, Bucky sat slumped in a chair. His broad shoulders were hunched, his head bowed slightly, and his metal hand gripped the edge of the seat so tightly the frame creaked. The Bucky they knew was a composed soldier, a man who could compartmentalize his pain and push forward. But now, his mask was gone, his expression stripped down to raw guilt and desperation.

He watched you intently, his eyes never leaving your face. Your blank expression, your lifeless stare—it tore at him, unraveling what little hope he had left. He leaned forward, pressing his elbows to his knees, his voice soft and trembling.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, his tone cracking with exhaustion. “Please. I know you’re still in there. You’ve gotta fight this. Fight for me… for us.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with longing and heartbreak.

You didn’t react. Not a blink, not a twitch. You were as still as a statue, your chest rising and falling in a mechanical rhythm dictated by the serum coursing through your veins. The vibrant light that once danced in your eyes was gone, replaced by a cold, unfeeling void.

Occasionally, you tilted your head, a small, calculated motion that seemed more analytical than human. It was as if you were studying him, assessing him as an object rather than a person—an obstacle rather than someone who loves you.

The silence between you was deafening, and it crushed Bucky like a vice.

He leaned back, exhaling shakily, running a trembling hand through his hair. His voice dropped to a whisper, as if speaking directly to the version of you he desperately hoped was still buried beneath the serum’s control. “I’m not giving up on you,” he said, though the cracks in his voice betrayed his struggle to believe his own words.

On the other side of the glass, Bruce and Tony exchanged a brief glance. Neither of them said it aloud, but the reality hung between them like a dark cloud: time was running out, and you were slipping further away.

-----

The common room felt as heavy as the med bay, the air thick with unspoken fears and fraying hope. The faint hum of the base’s systems was the only sound until Natasha’s calm, cutting words pierced through the oppressive silence.

“She’s not coming back on her own,” she said again, as if repeating it would make it easier for the others to accept. Her arms were still tightly crossed over her chest, her expression as unreadable as ever, but the way her shoulders were set betrayed her inner turmoil.

Steve stopped pacing and turned toward her, his frown deepening. “Don’t say that,” he said, his voice low but firm, like he could will her to take the words back.

Natasha’s eyes flicked to him, unwavering. “I’m being realistic,” she replied, her tone matter-of-fact but softer now. “You think I want this? Shes my sister! But every day, that serum, whatever it is, digs deeper. You can’t just power through something like this with good intentions. I’ve seen situations like this before, Steve. They don’t end how you want them to.”

Sam shifted forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. “She hesitated at the warehouse,” he said, his voice quieter, almost hesitant. “That means something, doesn’t it? She’s still in there. She’s fighting.”

“Yeah, and that hesitation nearly got us all killed,” Clint snapped, dragging a hand over his face. The frustration in his voice was barely masking the underlying fear. “What happens when she doesn’t hesitate next time? Because there will be a next time.”

Steve’s jaw tightened, and he clenched his fists at his sides. “We’re not giving up on her,” he said with finality, his voice brooking no argument.

Natasha’s sharp gaze softened as she glanced toward the med bay. For a moment, her mask slipped, and a flicker of pain crossed her face. “It’s not about giving up,” she said softly. “It’s about preparing for the possibility… that she isn’t the person we remember anymore and that maybe there is no way to get her back…”

The words lingered in the air, heavy and unrelenting. No one moved.

Then Bucky’s voice cut through the tension like a blade, sharp and trembling. “She’s not gone.”

The team turned as one to see him standing in the doorway, his broad frame silhouetted against the light from the hall. His face was raw, his eyes red-rimmed but blazing with a fierce determination that silenced any response they might have had.

“She’s not gone,” he repeated, stepping into the room. The words were firmer this time, carrying a weight that dared anyone to contradict him. He stopped near the center of the room, his metal hand flexing unconsciously as he looked at each of them in turn.

“And I’m not giving up on her, you shouldn't either” he added, his voice steady but filled with a quiet, devastating pain.

Steve stepped closer, his expression softening as he studied his oldest friend. “Buck—”

Bucky cut him off, his voice rising slightly. “I’m not giving up, Steve. I don’t care how deep that serum’s buried. I don’t care how long it takes. I know her! She’s in there, she’s still in there.” His voice cracked, but he didn’t flinch. “I know she is....”

Natasha pushed off the wall, her arms uncrossing. She held his gaze, her expression unreadable again, but her voice was gentle. “What if she’s not?”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t respond. Then he took a step closer, his voice low but unwavering. “Then we fight until there’s nothing left to fight for. But I’m not stopping... ot until she tells me herself that she’s gone.”

The room fell into silence again, but it wasn’t the same suffocating quiet as before. This silence was heavy, yes, but it carried the weight of something more than grief—it carried resolve.

Steve finally nodded, his voice steady but quiet. “Then we fight.”

Sam looked at Clint, who sighed heavily but gave a small nod. Natasha’s gaze lingered on Bucky for a moment longer before she turned away, her agreement unspoken but clear.

Bucky didn’t thank them, didn’t acknowledge their support. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked back toward the med bay. He didn’t have time for discussions or strategies. He had already made his decision.

As the door slid shut behind him, the others exchanged glances. “He’s not going to let her go,” Sam said quietly.

Steve crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. “Would you?”

Sam didn’t answer. Neither did Clint or Natasha. Because the truth was, none of them would, none of them wanted to.

--------

The lab had become a battlefield of hope and despair. The glowing holograms floating above the table displayed the intricate web of changes the serum had wrought on your body—twisted neurons, altered muscle fibers, and corrupted synaptic pathways that mapped out the story of how the fixer had transformed you into a weapon.

Bruce’s fingers hovered over the holographic display, tracing a complex string of data. His voice was quiet, almost reluctant. “This serum… it’s not just controlling her. It’s fused into everything she is. It’s rewriting her body, her mind. Every instinct, every reaction—it’s all amplified, all his..”

“It’s not just control,” Tony added, his voice devoid of its usual bravado. His face was drawn, his sharp features softened by exhaustion. “It’s enhancement. She’s stronger, faster—more dangerous than any of us combined. And the way it’s fused with the super-soldier serum…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s no way to separate them without…”

“Without killing her,” Bruce finished, the words falling like a hammer. He avoided meeting anyone’s gaze.

The room was silent except for the faint hum of machinery. Bucky stood at the edge of the group, his arms crossed tightly, his jaw clenched so hard it was a wonder it didn’t snap.

“Then we don’t separate it,” he said, stepping closer, his voice low and deliberate. “We find another way.”

Tony exhaled sharply, his arms spreading in frustration. “Another way? Bucky, we’re talking about molecular-level integration. This isn’t a wound we can stitch up or a wire we can snip. If we don’t stop her, she’s going to take us all out. That’s not an if—it’s a when.”

Bucky’s eyes locked onto Tony’s, cold and unyielding. “We’re not stopping her, we’re saving her!"

Tony’s gaze didn’t waver, but his voice softened. “And what if there’s no saving her? What if the only thing we can do is stop her before she does something none of us can undo?”

"There's always a choice!" Bucky shouted, his voice raw. "You're supposed to be the smartest guy in the room, Tony. Act like it."

Tony's jaw tightened, but he didn't reply.

The weight of the question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

“It not an option,” Bucky said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Natasha leaned against the table, her voice cutting through the rising tension. “It might have to be.”

Bucky turned to her, his eyes blazing. “You don’t mean that..”

Her expression was calm, but her eyes held a trace of sorrow. “I hope I don’t. But if it comes down to her or everyone else—”

“It won’t!” Bucky snapped, his voice shaking with barely controlled emotion. His fists tightened at his sides, and he took a step forward, his frustration spilling out in a torrent. “Why does it sound like you don’t care? Why do none of you seem to care? It’s Y/N we’re talking about!”

Natasha flinched slightly, but he didn’t stop. His voice rose, trembling with desperation. “The one who knits us matching scarves every Christmas! Who puts Avengers-themed band-aids in all the med kits because she thinks it’ll make us feel better! The one who sings those stupid pop songs on the comms even though they drive you all crazy! The one I love!” His voice cracked, and he exhaled sharply, looking around at the others as if daring them to argue.

“And you’re all just ready to toss her away like she’s nothing,” he continued, his voice breaking. “Like she hasn’t been the glue holding us together. Like she hasn’t saved every one of us a dozen times over!”

No one interrupted. The room was silent except for Bucky’s heavy breathing, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“This is my fault,” he said finally, his tone dropping to a whisper. “I pushed her away. I told her....." He trailed off "I thought i was saving her, all I did was drive her straight into the arms of someone who turned her into this. I wasn’t there when she needed me, and now…” His voice cracked again, and he shook his head. “This can’t be how her story ends. This isn’t how our story ends.”

Steve stepped forward cautiously, his voice gentle. “Buck… no one here wants to give up on her. We’re just—”

“No,” Bucky interrupted, his voice rising again. “You don’t get to say that. You’re all standing here talking about stopping her like she’s already gone. But she’s not. I’ve seen her fight…. I know she’s still in there.” He turned back to the holograms, his voice trembling but resolute. “And I’m not going to let her go...I can't”

Steve sighed, his shoulders sagging as he glanced at Natasha and then back to Bucky. “We’ll keep looking. But, Bucky… we’re running out of time....She's running out of time."

That night, Bucky sat in the med bay, staring at the empty bed where you had been just days ago. The sterile light seemed colder, harsher, and the hum of the machines now felt like a mockery of the life you had once filled with warmth.

He sank into the chair beside you, resting his elbows on his knees and running a hand over his face. “I told them,” he murmured after a long moment, his voice raw. “I told them we’re bringing you home. They don’t believe it, not really. But I do. Because I have to. Because if I don’t…”

He trailed off, his throat tightening.

“I told you it was for the better, and it wasn’t,” he continued, his voice trembling. “It was the worst thing I ever did. You deserved better than me pushing you away because I was scared….. And I’m not going to let that mistake be the last thing I ever do for you.”

His metal hand reached out, gently brushing against your wrist. “I’ll fix this. I don’t know how, but I will. I just need you to hang on a little longer, doll. Just a little longer, please."

And so he stayed, watching you in the dim light, his quiet determination the only thing keeping the weight of his guilt at bay.

---

The quiet hum of the med bay filled your ears, the sound of the monitors beeping in rhythm with your heartbeat. You weren’t entirely sure where the sound ended and the signal in your head began. It was constant now—a low, thrumming pulse that vibrated through your skull, tugging at your thoughts, distorting them, and twisting them into something unrecognizable.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been strapped to the bed, the restraints tight against your wrists and ankles. The team—your team???—had been coming in and out for days, speaking to you, pleading with you. You couldn’t remember all the words anymore. They sounded muffled, as though underwater. But one voice pierced through the fog: his.

The fixer’s signal was clear, sharp, and undeniable.

“Come to me. Complete the mission.”

It was like a hook embedded deep in your mind, pulling you with a force you couldn’t resist. You knew where to go. You knew what you had to do. The mission was clear. And yet…

A part of you—small, fragile, buried deep beneath the layers of control—was screaming.

“Don’t go. Don’t leave. Stay.”

You felt it every time Bucky spoke to you, his voice trembling with emotion as he begged you to fight. You felt it when Natasha stood silently by the glass, her arms crossed tightly, the mask of calm slipping just enough to show the hurt in her eyes. It was there in Steve’s steady, quiet resolve as he promised they would bring you back.

You wanted to stay.

But the voice grew louder, overpowering that small, desperate part of you. It wrapped around your thoughts like chains, drowning out everything else. The fixer’s voice wasn’t just in your head anymore—it was in your body, controlling every instinct, every movement.

“They’ll never understand you like I do. You’re meant for more than this. You don’t belong here. Come to me.”

The restraints on the bed groaned as you shifted against them, the serum-enhanced strength coursing through you making the reinforced bindings strain under the pressure. The voice was relentless, urging you forward, telling you that escape was the only answer.

“You need to leave. Now.”

The hum of the med bay sharpened into a buzzing, a dissonance that pressed against your skull like a knife. The monitors flickered faintly, your vitals spiking as the signal reached its crescendo. And then, something inside you snapped.

You didn’t remember breaking free, not really. One moment you were bound, and the next you were standing, the restraints dangling from the bed, bent and broken. The world tilted as you moved—too fast, too quiet, too precise.

“Get out. Go.”

Your body moved on autopilot, fluid and silent as you slipped into the darkened corridors of the compound. The alarms hadn’t started yet. You had time. You knew their rotations, their blind spots. You’d trained with them long enough to anticipate every move, to know exactly where to go.

But with every step, a tiny voice in the back of your mind whispered: Stay.

You passed the common room first, your shadow blending into the dim light spilling out from the slightly open door. Inside, Clint was slumped on the couch, his head tilted back as he stared at the ceiling. Sam sat beside him, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze distant.

They didn’t see you.

The signal tugged at you again, stronger this time. “Keep going.”

The hallway stretched before you like a tunnel, the exit growing closer with every step. You could feel the pull of freedom, the fixer’s voice growing clearer with every breath.

“They can’t stop you. You’re faster. Stronger. This is what you were meant for.”

But the deeper you moved into the compound, the louder that small, fragile part of yourself became.

“Don’t go. Turn back. You’re one of them. You’re loved.”

The faintest image of Bucky’s face flashed in your mind—his wide, desperate eyes, his trembling voice as he whispered your name like a prayer. You hesitated, your steps faltering for the briefest moment.

But the signal roared back, violent and overwhelming. It drowned out everything else, silencing the tiny part of you that had dared to hope.

You pushed forward.

The armory was your next stop. The door slid open silently, the familiar scent of oil and metal hitting you as you scanned the rows of weapons. You moved with efficiency, your hands grabbing what you needed—a knife, a sidearm, extra ammunition. Everything was automatic, every action mechanical.

The compound was chaos incarnate. The blaring alarms drilled into the team’s ears, the red emergency lights casting jagged shadows that made the corridors feel narrower, more oppressive. Every step echoed with urgency as the Avengers scrambled to find you, to contain you before the situation spiraled further out of control.

You were a ghost, slipping through their defenses with inhuman speed and precision. The enhancements from the serum made your movements impossibly fluid, calculated, and lethal. Every strike you delivered, every dodge you made, was the product of something no longer entirely human.

Bucky was the first to corner you in the armory. His breaths came in ragged bursts as he blocked the exit, his metal arm raised defensively. The flickering lights above cast a faint, uneven glow on his face, emphasizing the desperation in his expression.

“Doll,” he said, his voice steady despite the tremor in his chest. “You don’t have to do this.”

You stood across from him, a silent shadow. Your head tilted slightly, studying him as though he were a puzzle to solve. The cold detachment in your eyes felt like a dagger to his heart.

“Come back with me,” he pleaded, stepping forward cautiously. “We can fix this. I promise we can fix this.”

For a fleeting moment, something in your posture faltered. A twitch of your fingers, a shift in your expression—it was subtle, but enough to make his breath catch. He clung to the flicker of hope as though it could tether you back to him.

But then, as quickly as it came, the flicker disappeared.

You moved first.

Without a word, you lunged at him, your speed a blur.

Bucky barely dodged the first strike, the wind from your punch grazing his face. The second came faster, and his metal arm caught it with a sharp clang. His feet slid back from the force, his boots screeching against the floor.

“Y/N!” he shouted, his voice rising in desperation as you struck again, your attacks relentless. “Stop! This isn’t you!”

His words didn’t reach you.

He didn’t fight back—not really. Every movement was defensive, an attempt to slow you down without hurting you. But you were faster now, stronger. When he grabbed your wrist to stop a blow, you twisted effortlessly, breaking free and delivering a brutal kick to his chest.

The force sent him flying into the wall, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. He crumpled to the floor, gasping, as you turned and disappeared into the shadows of the corridor.

By the time Natasha and Clint arrived moments later, weapons at the ready, you were already gone.

------

The next three weeks stretched like an eternity.

The team threw themselves into the work, pouring over the fixer’s files with a level of intensity that bordered on desperation. Holograms of molecular structures and fragments of decrypted codes hung in the air like ghosts, flickering reminders of how little they’d managed to piece together. Every breakthrough was fleeting, every promising lead dissolved into another dead end.

Bucky barely spoke. He spent most of his time in the gym, taking out his frustration on punching bags or lifting until his muscles screamed for relief. When he wasn’t there, he was in the lab or the common room, lingering just within earshot of the discussions about you. He rarely contributed, but his presence alone was enough to remind the others of what was at stake.

Tony paced back and forth, his hands gesturing sharply as he stared at yet another set of encrypted data on the floating holograms before him. His bloodshot eyes betrayed sleepless nights, his movements jittery from too much caffeine and not enough rest.

“We’re out of time,” he muttered, breaking the heavy silence. The strain was evident in every word, every line of his face.

Steve, standing nearby with his arms crossed, looked up sharply. “What are you saying?”

Tony stopped pacing and turned to the group, his expression grim. “She’s gone after him—the fixer, whatever he calls himself. He’s still alive. And you don’t need me to tell you what that means.”

Sam frowned. “That it’s a trap?”

Tony nodded, his voice clipped. “It’s a trap. He’s counting on us coming after her. But we don’t have a choice.”

“We’ve been chasing shadows for weeks,” Clint said, leaning forward in his chair. “And now, out of nowhere, we have a location? This smells bad.”

Steve’s gaze darkened. “If it’s a trap, we spring it. We’ve dealt with worse before.”

Tony let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah? Worse? This isn’t just some ambush, Cap. That stuff pumping through her—it’s not taking a break. Every second we wait, it’s digging deeper. Taking over every cell, every fiber, everything that makes her her….But if we wait any longer…”

“She’ll be gone,” Natasha said quietly, cutting in. Her voice was calm, but her words carried a sharp edge that made the others glance at her.

The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the faint hum of the holograms around them.

Bucky, who had been sitting rigidly in a chair across the room, suddenly shifted. His metal hand gripped the edge of the seat so tightly it creaked.

“She’s not gone,” he said, his voice low and steady, though it trembled faintly at the edges.

Tony hesitated, looking at him. “Bucky—”

“No,” Bucky interrupted, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to stand here and talk about her like she’s already dead. She’s not.”

Steve stepped closer, his voice softer now. “We’re not giving up on her. You know that, Buck.”

“Do I?” Bucky snapped, finally looking up. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy, his expression raw. “Because all I’ve been hearing for the past three weeks is what happens if we can’t save her…What happens if she’s too far gone. You’re all ready to bury her, but I’m not. I can’t, I won’t”

Natasha’s voice was quiet but firm. “Bucky, this isn’t about giving up. It’s about being realistic.”

Steve frowned, his tone hardening. “You’re saying we just let her go?”

Natasha’s gaze shifted to him, and her voice softened slightly. “I’m saying we can’t afford to keep chasing her if it means risking everyone else. She’s either going to come back to us, or we’re going to have to stop her. For good.”

The words sent a chill through the room, the weight of their meaning settling heavily over the team.

“None of us want to lose her,” Natasha said, stepping forward. Her voice softened slightly, though her expression remained hard. “But if this is a trap, we have to be ready for what we might find.”

Bucky stood abruptly, his chair screeching against the floor. “What we’ll find is her,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “And we’re bringing her home. I don’t care what it takes.”

Steve placed a hand on his shoulder, but Bucky shrugged it off, his jaw clenched. “I’m suiting up,” he said flatly. “We’re wasting time.”

-----

The quinjet was a tense, quiet place as it cut through the night sky.

Steve sat in the cockpit, his hands gripping the controls tightly. Sam was strapped in beside him, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his wings folded neatly against his back. Clint and Natasha checked their gear in silence, their movements brisk and mechanical.

Bucky sat alone near the back, staring down at his gloved hands. His foot tapped against the floor, a restless rhythm that matched the pounding in his chest.

“We’ll find her,” Steve said quietly, glancing back.

Bucky didn’t respond.

Natasha looked up from her weapons. “You need to get your head on straight, Barnes. If you lose control out there—”

“I won’t,” Bucky said firmly, cutting her off. He lifted his gaze, his expression hard. “She’s all I’ve got left. I won’t lose her.”

The rest of the ride passed in silence, the team bracing themselves for whatever lay ahead.

When the quinjet touched down, the facility loomed before them like a fortress of steel and concrete. Its towering walls were lined with searchlights, and armed guards patrolled the perimeter in tight formations. The stormy sky above rumbled ominously, lightning flashing in the distance.

“It’s a fortress,” Sam said, his voice low as he peered through the cockpit window.

“It’s a trap,” Natasha said, her tone dry.

“And we’re walking straight into it,” Steve said, standing and grabbing his shield. “Let’s move.”

The team exited the quinjet in silence, their movements practiced and efficient. Bucky fell into step behind Steve, his metal arm flexing as he scanned the facility ahead.

Every fiber of his being screamed that this was wrong, that the odds were stacked too heavily against them. But he couldn’t afford to think about that.

All he could think about was you.

This was it. One way or another, it would end tonight.

The cavernous room was bathed in harsh fluorescent light, a cold and unfeeling illumination that seemed to leech the warmth from everything it touched. The fixer stood at the center, his posture relaxed, his confidence unshaken as the team burst through the double doors, their weapons raised and their eyes scanning the space.

And there you were.

You stood at his side, motionless, your face devoid of emotion. The cold detachment in your eyes sent a chill through the team, freezing them in their tracks. You weren’t holding a weapon yet, but the tension in your posture was enough to set everyone on edge. You looked through them, not at them, as though they weren’t people, just obstacles in the way of your programming.

“Well, well,” the fixer drawled, his voice smooth and mocking as he clasped his hands behind his back. “Took you long enough.”

“Let her go,” Steve barked, his shield raised defensively as he stepped forward. His voice was firm, but there was an edge of desperation in it. “Now.”

The fixer smirked, shaking his head. “Oh, Captain. You’re still under the delusion that this is your game to win.” He gestured toward you, his eyes gleaming with triumph. “She’s not yours anymore. She’s not even hers anymore. She’s mine.”

Bucky’s voice broke through, raw and trembling. “Y/N!” he called out, taking a step toward you despite the warning glance Steve shot him. “You don’t have to do this! Fight it!”

For the briefest moment, your head tilted slightly, your gaze flicking toward him. There was a flicker, something deep in your eyes that might have been recognition.

Then it was gone.

The fixer chuckled, pulling a small remote from his pocket. “Touching. Really, it is. But you’re too late. This is her final mission, it's a great one really, I think you'll all love it: either end the Avengers… or end herself..."

"Or you all die trying." He pressed the button.

A loud beep echoed through the room, followed by a harsh metallic clanking as a digital timer lit up on the far wall. It glowed blood-red, counting down from five minutes.

The fixer gave them a mock salute, his grin widening. “Have fun.”

Before anyone could stop him, he disappeared through a side door.

“Clint, go after him!” Natasha barked, her voice sharp and commanding.

“On it!” Clint was already moving, his bow raised as he sprinted toward the exit.

“Y/N, don’t do this!” Steve shouted, stepping forward with his shield raised. “You don’t have to listen to him!”

But the signal had already taken hold.

Your hand reached for the nearest weapon—a sleek pistol holstered at your side. In one fluid motion, you raised it and fired, the bullet ricocheting off Steve’s shield with a deafening clang.

“Y/N, stop!” Bucky yelled, his voice filled with desperation as he moved to block Natasha. “You don’t want this!”

You didn’t respond. Your movements were sharp, calculated, as though choreographed. You fired again, this time aiming for Tony’s chest. He raised his gauntlet just in time, the repulsor absorbing the bullet.

“She’s not holding back!” Tony shouted, his voice clipped as he dodged another shot.

Steve advanced, his shield up, but his movements were measured, almost hesitant. “Y/N, listen to me! You’re stronger than this—stronger than him!”

You turned on him, your pistol empty now, and dropped it without hesitation. Your hand reached for a knife at your belt as you lunged, the blade flashing in the harsh light.

Steve caught the strike with his shield, but the force of it drove him back a step. “Natasha, help me!”

Natasha moved in from the side, her movements swift and deliberate. She aimed for disarmament, her focus on neutralizing you without causing harm. But every move she made, you countered with ruthless precision, forcing her onto the defensive.

“Damn it, Y/N, fight this!” Natasha snapped, gritting her teeth as she narrowly dodged a high kick.

Meanwhile, Tony and Sam had turned their attention to the timer on the wall.

“Five minutes, huh?” Sam muttered as he landed beside Tony, his wings retracting.

“Four and counting,” Tony corrected, his HUD scanning the device. “And this thing is a beast. Give me a second to figure out how to disarm it.”

“You’ve got three,” Sam quipped, his eyes darting back to the chaos behind them.

Bucky wasn’t fighting. He couldn’t. His metal arm raised instinctively to deflect a stray knife you hurled in his direction, but his voice was soft, pleading.

“Sweetheart, please,” he said, his feet planted firmly between you and Tony. “This isn’t you. I know you’re still in there. You don’t have to do this.”

Your eyes met his briefly, but they were cold, unrecognizable. You moved toward him, your strikes quick and unrelenting, but he didn’t fight back. Instead, he blocked and dodged, his every movement defensive.

“I’m not giving up on you,” he said, his voice cracking. “You hear me? I’m not.”

“Bucky, move!” Natasha shouted, intercepting you with a spinning kick that sent you stumbling back.

You recovered instantly, your hand moving to the explosives strapped to your belt. You hurled one at the team, the small device landing near Steve’s feet.

“Get down!” Steve bellowed, throwing himself over the explosive as it detonated with a deafening boom. Smoke filled the air, momentarily disorienting everyone.

“Two minutes left!” Tony called out, sweat dripping down his face as he worked furiously on the timer. “Sam, hold this!”

Sam took over the wiring Tony handed him, his brow furrowing in concentration. “You sure this won’t blow us all to hell?”

“Not if you don’t mess it up!” Tony snapped, his fingers flying across his gauntlet’s interface.

Natasha and Steve regrouped, their eyes scanning the smoke-filled room for you.

“She’s moving fast,” Natasha said, her voice low as she raised her batons. “Too fast.”

“Nat, on your left!” Steve shouted as you emerged from the haze, a blade in each hand.

Natasha intercepted your strikes with her batons, the crackle of electricity filling the air as she deflected your blows. “Y/N, snap out of it!”

But you didn’t.

Bucky moved closer, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Doll, look at me. It’s me—Bucky. Remember? You know me. You love me, I love you."

Your hands faltered, the knives trembling in your grip. For a moment, the haze in your eyes seemed to clear, and you froze.

“Thirty seconds!” Tony shouted, his voice panicked.

“Y/N,” Bucky whispered, stepping closer, his hands raised. “Come back to me.”

But the signal surged, stronger than ever, and the haze returned. Your grip tightened on the knives as the timer ticked down.

“Twenty seconds!”

“Tony!” Sam shouted.

“I’m on it!” Tony barked.

The final seconds felt like an eternity as the room erupted into chaos once more.

The room was chaos, the countdown timer on the wall casting its blood-red glow over the flickering lights and the frantic movement of the team. The fight raged on around it—blades clashing, bullets ricocheting, and desperate pleas falling on deaf ears.

Bucky blocked another of your strikes, his metal arm catching the blade with a metallic clang. His face was streaked with sweat and dirt, his eyes glassy with unshed tears as he shouted your name again. “Baby, stop! Please, just stop!”

You didn’t respond. Your strikes came fast, precise, unrelenting. It was clear the signal had fully taken hold, driving you like a machine. The fixer’s voice, now silent in the room, still echoed in your mind. “Complete the mission.”

Natasha ducked under one of your swings, slamming her electrified baton against your side, but you twisted out of the way with unnatural speed. Steve joined her, his shield raised, deflecting an incoming strike meant for Natasha.

“We’re running out of time!” Steve called over the din. “Tony, what’s the status on that bomb?”

“Ten seconds!” Tony yelled, his voice tight as his hands flew over the exposed circuitry. “If I screw this up, we’re all toast!”

“You won’t screw it up!” Sam barked from above, sweat dripping from his brow as he hovered near Tony, ready to assist.

“Friday, guide me,” Tony snapped, his voice frantic. The seconds ticked down—nine, eight, seven—and then suddenly the timer went dark.

Tony exhaled sharply, leaning back against the wall. “We’re clear. The bomb’s deactivated.”

Relief washed over the team for a brief moment—but only a moment. You were still fighting, your movements relentless and mechanical. There was no victory here, only desperation.

“Doll, please!” Bucky shouted again, catching your wrist as you lunged at Natasha. His voice cracked, trembling with emotion. “I know you’re in there! Come back to me!” He begged

His words made you falter—just for a moment. Your body stilled, your breathing hitching as you stared at him. Something deep within you flickered, a small light in the overwhelming darkness.

“Doll, it’s me,” he said softly, his voice trembling as he took a cautious step closer. “Remember that time in D.C.? You dragged me out to that diner at two in the morning because you had to try their blueberry pie?” His lips quirked in a small, broken smile. “And then you made me order pancakes just so you could steal them?”

The knife in your hand trembled. Your head tilted slightly, your lips parting as if to respond.

“You told me I made you feel safe,” Bucky continued, his voice barely above a whisper now. “You made me feel safe. Doll, you don’t have to fight anymore. You don’t have to do this. Just come back to me.”

For a moment, everything was still. The haze in your eyes cleared, replaced by something fragile and human. You dropped the knife, and it clattered to the floor.

“Bucky…” you whispered, your voice cracking.

His heart leapt as he stepped closer, reaching out to you. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice thick with hope. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

But then the darkness surged again. The fixer’s programming tightened its grip, dragging you back into its depths. Your body stiffened, your breath quickening as the command blared in your head: “Complete the mission.”

“No, no, no!” you gasped, your hands trembling. Your gaze darted wildly, panic etched across your face as you reached for something on your suit. Your fingers closed around a small syringe strapped to your chest.

Natasha’s eyes widened in horror. “She’s got cyanotoxin,” she said sharply, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Y/N, put it down!”

The room froze.

You held the syringe to your neck, your hands shaking violently as tears streamed down your face. “I can feel it,” you said, your voice barely audible. “It’s in me. It’s all I can hear. I can’t stop it, Bucky. I can’t—I can’t!”

“You don’t have to do this!” Bucky’s voice was raw, his steps slow and deliberate as he approached. “We can figure this out! Just put it down, baby please!

Your tear-filled eyes met his, and for a moment, the pain in them was unbearable. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“Y/N, stop!” Bucky screamed, his hand reaching for you. “Don’t do this! Stay with me—stay with me!”

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, your voice trembling. “It’s for the better.”

And then, before anyone could stop you, you plunged the syringe into your neck.

“NO!” Bucky roared, his voice echoing through the chamber.

The syringe fell from your hand as your legs gave out beneath you. You crumpled to the floor, your body already limp and lifeless.

Bucky was at your side in an instant, his arms wrapping around you as he cradled your body against his chest. “No, no, no,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

Tony rushed over, his gauntlet lighting up as he scanned for vitals. “Friday, give me a reading!”

A pause. Then: “No vitals detected,” Friday said quietly.

The words hit Bucky like a hammer. His breath caught, and then a gut-wrenching sob tore from his chest. He held you tighter, his tears falling freely as he rocked back and forth.

“How can any of this be for the better?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “How?”

The team stood frozen, their faces etched with grief as Bucky’s cries filled the room. The weight of your loss settled over them, heavy and suffocating.

For Bucky, the world had stopped. All he could see was you—your lifeless body in his arms, and the memory of your final words echoing in his mind:

“It’s for the better.”

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