#sorry tagging without any previous warnings though

[hazayuka]

hazayuka comic. original under the cut.

taglist: @yumesei, @ofironandivory, @pyromaniacheart, @funkii-fox (anyone who wants to be added or taken off the list, feel free to reach out to me via asks)

[crescenthistory]

while we're both here; part two

Synopsis: Your chronic illness makes you a frequenter in Madam Pomfrey's infirmary – at some point you're bound to make a connection with her other favourite patient. Said patient is currently lingering around the infirmary, hoping to see you once more, even if that is to support you through an episode or two.

Words: 3.4k

Tags: fem!reader, undisclosed chronic illness that makes you hurt and faint (writer has hEDS and POTS), remus' pov with all its typical warnings, 'on-screen' syncope/fainting, flirting, physical affection, fluffy hurt/comfort, maternal madam pomfrey, remus is taller than you but you're not necessarily short, you have enough hair to fall into your face.

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Remus had been hoping he would see you again soon after that. It was odd to, for once in his life, want to go to the infirmary; it was even more odd to hope the girl that had caught his eye would end up there as well.

His frequent visits to the infirmary once felt like a massive obstruction in the little life he had miraculously managed to create at Hogwarts. It was the one place that had to be just his, somewhere his friends would rarely go. Part of Remus was well aware that if he asked any of his mates to accompany him on his visits, they would drop everything to do so. Most of him, though, felt like that would only be salt in the wound, would only highlight his difference.

It was easier to slip in and out alone.

To have somewhere that was just his would in many ways be Remus’ introverted dream, but with his tragicomical context, it was far from it. He resented having to spend so much time there, only finding solace in Madam Pomfrey’s kindness.

And then, in you.

Over the encounters, each one fertilising the bloom of whatever was growing between you, Remus found that he didn’t mind that this was where he met you. That he got to have you in this place that was just his, with none of his mates’ prying eyes or prior knowledge. 

You don’t have her, you twat, he would scold himself at that line of thinking. She’s not yours to have.

Remus was really good at reminding himself that he shouldn’t be thinking like that. Following through was an entirely different story.

He wouldn’t admit it when his mates began to hound him for the reason why he was spending so long in the infirmary for just small things, but he had begun to drag his feet every visit. Lingering by his bedside cabinet, slyly looking around, hoping to suddenly catch your eye and – wow, dove, I had not at all expected to see you here while I’ve spent 20 minutes picking up bandages!

There was a small war going on in his mind, waged between the dizzying pull you had on him and his better senses. He could hear Lyall speaking to him in his mind, “Son, it’s best you walk this life alone.”

Yet, here Remus – stupid, dreamy Remus – was hoping he might walk into you.

It was while caught up in this mental tirade that he did exactly that. 

He had begun to walk out of the long-term wing, heading for the exit, gaze focussed on his feet and mind elsewhere, when another set of feet emerged into his view seconds before the collision. Remus stiffened when a body bumped against his, hands shooting out to grab the poor sod by the elbows and stabilise them. “I am so sorry–” 

He looked up and cut himself off when his eyes landed on you.

It was not within his power to withhold the wide smile that blossomed on his face. “Oh, hey dove,” he breathed out, approximately two seconds before remembering himself. Remus cleared his throat and took a step back, squeezing your elbows reassuringly before hastily letting you go, though not without noticing how you leaned into his touch. His gaze was still on yours, but more reserved now, head tilted down. 

You looked equally perplexed, despite the oncoming tradition, but were quick to ease his thoughts with a small smile. “Well, if it isn’t Poppy’s golden boy.”

“Had to complete her set now that you’re here, yeah?” The words seemed to slip effortlessly off his tongue when he was around you, in sharp contrast to his inner turmoil. Remus dared hope that meant you didn’t pick up on it. “What brings you in today, love?”

He wondered if the way your cheeks appled at that perhaps meant he wasn’t the only one flustered in the other’s company. 

You recovered enough to roll your eyes heartily. “Professor Binns has requested I get the matron to write a note to excuse why I couldn’t make his lecture last week.”

Remus’ eyebrows lifted, though he wasn’t necessarily surprised at the professor’s audacity. “I hope he knows she’ll kill him for wasting her time with that.”

You hummed in agreement. “I believe he’s a bit too dead to care.”

You began inching around him, head perked up to presumably spot Madam Pomfrey, and for a second Remus’ chest panged with the realisation that you probably didn’t share his recent desire to linger in the infirmary. You probably wanted to be rid of him. Shame wrapped hotly around his veins as his eyes flickered over you, searching for a sign in your body language that you truly wanted him gone.

That was how he noticed the way you swayed as you stood on your tiptoes to scan for Pomfrey, looking worse for wear with every passing second, and he understood the actual reason for your urgency.

“Hey, why don’t you come sit down with me in the waiting room, and I’ll grab a hold of her when I spot her?” he offered, nerves sneaking into his voice despite his best efforts. “Would probably be easier for me, given my vertical gifts.”

You had called his ridiculously tall stature a vertical gift a few days ago when you saw each other last and it came up that he could see the birds sitting by the top windows of the infirmary. It was something he had hardly considered worth mentioning, but it seemed to amaze and please you greatly, so he couldn’t help but feel quite chuffed after the interaction. 

If your snort was anything to go by, you remembered your comment. You smiled at him and Remus tried not to feel like an arse for how quickly relief bloomed in his chest at the sight.

“You know what, that sounds like a much better idea than me straining myself like this.” You began to move towards the cushioned maroon chairs in the wide hall that just barely classified as a waiting room. “If Binns is strict enough about me not missing lectures to send me on an errand during his lesson, it serves him right if I miss the whole thing.”

Remus followed dutifully behind you, letting you choose a seat before sitting down beside you, knees angled in your direction. They were starting to preemptively ache as the full moon edged closer, so maybe it was good for him anyway to forgo the walk up to the common room and instead dwell here a bit longer.

“You’re supposed to be in his lecture right now?” Remus asked, frowning. At your emphatic nodding, he murmured an added, “What a twat.”

Your giggle made a smile grow on his face, like a flower seedling in the sun’s presence. 

“What, aren’t you skipping a lesson right now yourself?” You curled up in your chair like a perfect cat, legs crossed beneath you and propping your chin up on your hand.

He shook his head. “No, I’ve got a free period luckily.”

“And you decided that the best way to spend said free period was, naturally, hanging out in the infirmary?” 

There was nothing but goodhearted humour in your tone, but Remus’ face still felt warm and he tried to shrug nonchalantly. “Had to pick up some bandages. Now was as good a time as any, no?”

You eyed him curiously. “Are you planning on needing bandages in the near future?”

Usually, Remus’ cover-up lies rolled naturally off his tongue – he had had a lifetime to practice, after all. It didn’t even really feel like lying anymore, but suddenly, with you, that changed. Now it felt like pulling teeth. 

Remus was luckily accustomed to pain enough to push through. “They’re not for me this time, actually. James and Sirius are playing in the match against Slytherin tomorrow, so you can infer why we prefer to keep the dorm stocked beforehand.”

Your smile was genuine, even as your eyes seemed to grow more tired by the second. “You’re a good friend, Remus.”

He did not have it in him to unpack how that made him feel. Terrible and wonderful. He gave you a lopsided smile. “If you say so, dove. Are you going to the match?”

He had never seen you there before, but until your encounters began picking up in frequency a few weeks back, he hadn’t necessarily known to. These days he felt like a scout on a rogue mission to find you everywhere. 

There was a slight twitch in your face, an emotion that flickered briefly before burying itself. One Remus wanted to catch and interrogate – it didn’t seem like hurt per say, but it wasn’t a nice one either. You looked down at the armrest as you said, “No, my body doesn’t really agree with quidditch matches anymore. You know, stairs and hard planes and all.”

Remus kept his eyes trained on yours until you looked back up, so that he could gift you with a small, knowing smile. “Yeah, I understand that, dove. I’m the same way on bad days. Lily always says I’m not missing much when I can’t go, but it’s still not a great feeling.”

He decided to interpret the look in your eyes as grateful. Rather than dwelling on the issue, he tried to steer the conversation elsewhere. “What, uh, are you doing after this?”

It was the first question he could think of, escaping him before he could consider the implications more closely. His veins froze as he realised how you might receive it.

However, you didn’t seem too caught up in what he was saying. There was a certain haziness swimming in your irises and your eyelids were moving both too frequently and too slowly. Remus could somehow tell you weren’t completely yourself.

He reached a hand out tentatively, placing it on your shoulder closest to him. “Love?” His tone of voice was soft, albeit slightly nervous.

“Sorry…” you mumbled, trailing off. Your eyebrows furrowed. “I think I… I will…”

In this moment, he was grateful that he had gone to the library to do some reading on your conditions after you shared them with him in passing. He had felt like a total creep for it at the time, but now it eased his panic a little as he could see you starting to slip away.

With a swift, almost instinctual movement, Remus’ hand moved up from your shoulder to cup the side of your face securely, seconds before you lost consciousness. Instead of falling face-first onto the infirmary floor, you fell into Remus’ hand as he supported your head and kept you up.

“You’re good, dovey, you’re alright,” Remus murmured gently, getting out of his seat to kneel before you. His other hand came up to help lean your limp body lean further back into your seat, stabilising your neck.

He tucked some of your hair that had fallen in your face back behind your ear, large hands surprisingly delicate and careful. This was not something he wanted to mess up. His breathing was laboured – ironically matching yours – but he didn’t have time to analyse whether it was from nerves or proximity.

Remus looked down the hallway, trying to spot the matron with more motivation than earlier. “Poppy?” he called, quietly enough to hopefully not disturb patients in nearby rooms, but loudly enough that she might hear.

There’s only two students to his knowledge that call her by her first name, and right now both needed her help.

For a moment, he was met with silence and Remus was about to turn his focus back to you when he heard. “Mr. Lupin?” Her voice was inquisitive, confusion mixing with mirth, likely as she would have thought he had left ages ago.

“Could I get a hand? Quickly?”

There was no hesitation as he could hear her dropping whatever she was holding in favour of coming to his aid, the sound of her footsteps soft in the quiet infirmary. No questions asked – her steady presence made a warmth spread in Remus’ chest. She made him miss his Mam while also soothing the ache of his loss.

Remus looked back at you, still unconscious but with your eyelids fluttering slightly. His thumbs brushed back and forth over your cheeks, as if to calm you down. It was while cradling you on his knees before your chair, with his eyes trained on you, that Madam Pomfrey found you both.

She huffed in the doorway, making Remus look up at her like what he could only presume a small puppy would. Her hand was at her hip as she took in the scene.

“I– uh, she fainted,” Remus rambled, looking back at you. “I know it’s normal, but I figured we could use some help?”

“I can see that, Remus.” Her voice was once more laced with the mirth from earlier as she gave him a funny look. It didn’t deter her from hurrying forward though, sitting in the chair Remus had previously occupied as she studied you. He remained dutifully on the floor. 

“She’s alright,” Pomfrey concluded quickly after sneaking her hand between Remus’ still supporting your head to check your pulse. “She’ll come to shortly, we should just cool her down.”

Remus knew what fainting would look like in general, but less so for you. He had read up on it and he had listened to what Pomfrey said to you when you were coming to from a syncope while he was in the room – which was not the same as eavesdropping, he told himself. Still, he didn’t really know how to help, and found himself desperately wanting to.

So he followed Pomfrey’s every movement with rapt attention. She pulled out her wand and cast a wind spell, directing a cold breeze in the direction of your face. “If you can support her with just one hand, that would be best, Remus dear. Less skin on skin contact will help make her less warm.”

He couldn’t help but feel like she was indirectly poking fun at him with her tone as he quickly dropped his other hand. “What else will help?” he asked to distract from his flush.

“Laying down is best, usually, but right now it would likely be more uncomfortable to jostle her around to one of the infirmary beds. We really should get one in this waiting room, if only Helena and Godrick hadn’t thought that Hogwarts’ thousand students only needed the tiniest of infirmaries–” 

This was a rant both you and Remus had heard many a time before. She cut herself off and looked away from you to meet his eye. “Anyway. Usually a supine position is best, but leaning her back the way you have is great. Good job, Remus.”

That comment brought a smile to his face, but he didn’t feel like he could thank her for it either. “Alright, that’s good. Anything else?”

“Studious, are we?” Pomfrey’s look was knowing as she turned back to you, moving her wand slightly to improve the airflow in your face. “The recipe is to check her breathing and pulse to be safe, bring down both position and temperature, and sprinkle in some kindness and patience. Oh, and talk. She might be able to hear you at various points.”

Remus had read that, actually. He looked back to you as your eyelids fluttered again, but seemingly more purposefully this time as opposed to the almost jerking motion from earlier. He whispered your name, squeezing your cheek a little. "Hey dove, you're alright. It's just Poppy and I. The I in question is Remus."

Just to be safe.

“Atta girl,” smiled Pomfrey, keeping her wand pointed against you for a little while longer still, as you blinked your eyes open. “Keep supporting her for a bit longer, dear.” That last instruction was to Remus and he nodded and mentally thanked her for helping him save face as you came to. He didn't want you to wonder why his hand was on your cheek.

You looked at Remus first, bleary-eyed with furrowed brows. He smiled encouragingly at you. “What boring company must I be to have you faint on me like this.” 

The laugh that escaped you was confused but a laugh nonetheless. Remus hoped he wasn’t insane to think you were choosing to lean into his hold on you, as you looked towards Pomfrey. “Oh, there you are. Binns needs me to get a note from you.” Your voice was hoarse but still quintessential you.

Pomfrey’s eyebrows shot up into her greying hairline. “Now, dear, why would he think I care what he needs from me? Forget all that nonsense until we get you back on your feet.”

“See, that’s what I told him!” You were still somewhat drowsy, but clearly coming to. Your tone softened a little as you added, “Thank you for helping, Poppy.”

Pomfrey pinched the cheek Remus wasn’t cradling, smiling maternally at you. “It’s my job, child. One I carry out happily.”

Remus thought him and Pomfrey provided a good emotional support team for you, considering you were smiling and laughing within the first minute of being conscious.

Somehow, an apologetic tone still managed to seep into your expression as you looked back at him, as if remembering. “I’m sorry for fainting on you. It was a long trek down, I didn’t realise–”

“Shhh, don't be silly dove, you’re alright.” Usually Remus was adamant about not interrupting women, but he felt this was a worthy exception. “You’re just giving me a good excuse to skip out on Herbology.”

Pomfrey’s head whipped around to look at him. “Are you supposed to be in a lesson right now, Mr. Lupin?”

He grew a bit smaller, yet somehow managed to shrug nonchalantly. “Not yet, I don't think. Either way, I was simply helping a friend who fainted, matron.” At her still pointed look, he also gestured to his crouched position. “Not to mention, I now need some ointment for my knees.”

Usually, Remus held out on pain medication for as long as possible, but anything for a good excuse, apparently.

Pomfrey shook her head, waving a finger at you two as she got out of her seat, pocketing her wand. “You bairns are lucky I like you. Remus, help her lay down in the infirmary wing for a while and help yourself to your usual remedies. And then I expect you to head to your lessons at the soonest possible moment.”

Even with her hands on her hips and strict tone, you could see the affection in her eyes, exemplified by the quick wink she shot the both of you, effectively diminishing any threat she pretended to uphold. 

“Yes, ma’am!” He nodded abidingly at her, smile subdued.

Maybe he was abusing her favouritism, but Remus couldn’t bring himself to feel too guilty for that, at least not at this very minute.

“Thank you, Poppy!” Both of you chorused after her as she turned to head out, smoothing down her white apron, muttering something about “those kids”. 

As Remus turned back to look at you, he realised neither of you had moved from your positions. His hand was still on your cheek, thumb occasionally brushing over it instinctually. Your hand had come to fist a handful of his jumper's sleeve, as if grounding yourself.

You met his gaze, and he found a depth in them that enraptured him. With the last of Pomfrey’s presence melting away around you, Remus remained on his knees before you, and could not deny that he both looked and felt reverent. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from yours, his hand away from your cheek.

He tried to clear his throat to clear the trance, but you both remained caught up in each other. “A– are you good to walk to our wing?” he whispered. The term our formed itself on his tongue without his explicit involvement.

You blinked. Then, abruptly, as if remembering yourself, you nodded and sat up in your seat a little. “Yeah– yes, of course.”

Even as you agreed, Remus could practically see the wall of dizziness hit you as you sat up. He doubled down with his hand cupping your face and brought the other up to squeeze your elbow. “Alright there, racer. Slow and steady, yeah?”

You nodded again, slower this time. The smile being born on your face appeared in a similar fashion. “You’ve got enough time for that?” The teasing tone was back and Remus relished in it.

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Remus stage-whispered, allowing himself to flirt openly with the confidence of your touch. “I have no intention of making it to Herbology.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” He tried to gauge your reactions in real time as he spoke. “Found something a lot more interesting.”

You grinned at him, a laziness sweetening its edges in the best way, as if you were comfortable with him. “And that would be the aftermath of a syncope?”

He hummed in agreement. “You’d be surprised what the right person can make fun.”

“Alright then, right person. Want to help me up?”

By Godrick, that he did.

part three

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

A slip of the tongue

Upside Diner, part 6 [previous parts here] Rated: E Words: 1.659 [also on AO3] Tags: No UD AU; Future fic; Record label owner Eddie; Waiter Steve; Sex worker Steve; Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington; Explicit sexual content; Angst; They're idiots, your honor Notes: It's @house-of-the-moving-image 's birtdhay and - as tradition demands - I come bearing more Upside Diner as a gift. Happy birthday, house, I hope you have an absolutely wonderful day. Here is some soul-crushing angst! ❤️🎂

Eddie is on his third cigarette of the night, absentmindedly shuffling through his record collection under the pretense of tidying up, when the doorbell rings. 

“Oh, thank Christ,” he breathes. He throws the cigarette in the general direction of the ashtray without checking where it lands, and rushes to the apartment door, not bothering to flick on the lights in the hallway. “You’re late.” 

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Steve mutters as he shoulders past him. “Something came up.” 

“Something-” Eddie parrots, alarm flaring low in his gut. “What do you-”

Steve, who has already deposited the bag with his skates next to the shoe rack and is now toeing off his sneakers, pauses and shoots him a warning look, and Eddie bites down on his own tongue to keep the question in. 

“Right, sorry. None of my business, I know.” 

Steve keeps watching him for a moment longer, and it might be the dim light, but Eddie thinks he sees something like hesitation flicker in those pretty eyes of his. Then, he huffs and turns away, and the moment breaks. 

Eddie trails after him into his own bedroom like a lost puppy dog, taking the opportunity to let his eyes wander over Steve’s body. He’s still in his uniform from the diner, even though Eddie knows for a fact that his shift ended almost two hours ago. He also doesn’t appear to be hurt. No unfortunate run-ins with any other customers, then - or ex-customers, as Eddie has been his only one for a while now. It’s what they have agreed on, and Steve has given him no reason to believe he isn’t honoring their deal. On the contrary, he’s been treating their weekly meetings with nothing but exemplary professionalism. Punctual. Polite. Detached.

“Shit. You got a towel?” 

The question takes him so much by surprise that he needs a few seconds to process it. All the times that Steve has been here, he hasn’t asked him for so much as a glass of water. Now, though, with him standing at the center of the bedroom, the soft light of the bedside lamps illuminating his features, Eddie can see why he’d ask for a towel. 

He’s positively drenched. Flimsy uniform shirt clinging to his skin, big droplets of water dripping off the tips of his hair, leaving dark stains on the plush carpet. It has been drizzling all day - a thin but steady curtain of water blurring the world like an aquarelle painting. Steve looks like he’s been caught in it for hours. 

“What the fuck?” Eddie blurts. “Why are you-” 

Steve gives him another look from underneath his sopping bangs. There’s a tight curl to his shoulders, like that of a cornered animal.  

“Towel,” Eddie mutters. “Yeah, sure. Hold on.” 

It’s just a few steps into the ensuite bathroom. He yanks the first towel he can reach off its hook and storms back into the bedroom, holding it out like an offering. 

“Thanks,” Steve says, and throws the towel over his head. He reemerges a few seconds later with a relieved sigh, rosy-cheeked and wild-haired, and Eddie needs to avert his eyes. “Sorry about your carpet.” 

“Oh, fuck the carpet,” Eddie barks. He imagines the tiniest smile tugging on Steve’s lips, but it’s gone as fast as it came. “The carpet can’t get pneumonia, dude. We need to get you into something dry.” 

Steve takes a step back. His brow furrows. “It’s okay, I’ll get changed once I get home. Just let me get this done.” 

He makes to get to his knees. 

“Oh, like fuck you will,” Eddie hisses and catches him by the shoulders. Large, startled eyes stare up at him. The lamplight brings out the golden flecks in them, and it’s all he can do to not lean in. They said no kissing. It’s part of the deal. “Seriously, cut that crap. Let me just get you a shirt. Everything else can wait.” 

He can feel Steve’s eyes boring into his back as he walks over to the wall with the closet. 

“You don’t have to do this for me. You already pay me enough.” 

Eddie, already elbow-deep in the chaos that is his wardrobe, rolls his eyes. “I know I don’t have to, but I wanna. Why can’t you just accept people being nice to you every once in a while, huh? You don’t have to turn every little kindness into a business transaction, y’know?” 

Steve goes very silent. Silent enough that Eddie wonders if he left, except he doesn’t hear the door or any footfalls in the hallway. He suppresses a groan at the disorganized state of his closet - maybe he should make a habit of actually sorting his laundry instead of just chucking it all in there in one giant, tangled pile - and finally pulls out a random, faded band shirt. 

“Probably not your preferred color,” he jokes, closing the door and turning around. “But I think it’ll do for- holy shit, what are you doing?” 

Steve’s face is inches from his. When Eddie tries to reel back, he takes a step closer, bracketing him between the closet door and his own body, arms on either side of Eddie’s head. His eyes are calm and oddly determined, and up this close, Eddie can see the tiniest drops of water still glistening between his lashes. The shirt slips from his fingers and lands at their feet. 

“I have a proposal for you,” Steve murmurs, idly twisting one of Eddie’s curls around a finger, breath puffing over Eddie’s lips as he leans closer. He smells of rain, and Eddie can see the outlines of his nipples through his soaked shirt. Steve’s eyes follow his, and his lips curl up. “I know you’re not satisfied with our current … arrangement. I know you want more, Eddie. I’m willing to give you more, if the price is right.” 

Eddie’s heart is hammering behind his collarbone, a violent thudthudthud that echoes dully in the empty pit of his stomach. This isn’t really happening. There’s no way. When he makes a weak attempt at twisting away, Steve pushes one leg between his. His shorts ride up as he does, naked thigh brushing against the bulge of Eddie’s stirring cock in his jeans. Eddie moans involuntarily, hands flying up to steady himself on something as his world threatens to spin off its axis. They land on Steve’s hips, and Steve reaches down with casual ease, pushing Eddie’s fingers under the waistband of his shorts. His skin is hot and smooth and wet. 

It’s heaven. It’s all he ever wanted. It’s what he fantasized about for years, touching himself in the darkness of his tiny bedroom in the old trailer, knowing full well that he’d never have it.

And now he’s here, and Steve is in his arms, slowly grinding against him, undoing the fly of his shorts with practised movements while he guides Eddie’s hand lower. 

“No,” Eddie whispers. This isn’t right. There’s something off, this is too good to be true. “No, wait.” 

Steve kisses him, deep and urgent, tongue slipping into Eddie’s mouth to drink down his noise of protest. Eddie tries to struggle, but Steve nips at his bottom lip, using his gasp of surprise to deepen the kiss, pushing Eddie’s hand down all the way, so that he can feel the hot, hard length of him in his palm, and from there, things descend into a blurry haze of lust and mingled moans. Eddie comes back to his senses just long enough to yank Steve’s wet shirt over his head, hastily throwing it to the floor so that he can pull him close again. Steve moans into his mouth when Eddie’s hands squeeze his ass, and trails wet, sloppy kisses down the corner of his lips, his jaw, his throat. His hands slip under Eddie’s shirt, roaming over the plane of his stomach, up to his chest. His cock strains against the confines of his boxers, rubbing against Eddie’s own as they stumble their way towards the bed. 

They land in a heap on the mattress, Eddie on his back and Steve on top. His skin glows in the lamplight, golden and glistening with moisture, and too beautiful to be true, and Eddie needs to touch him to make sure he’s real. Steve lets him, straddling his lap and bending down for another long, filthy kiss, deft fingers working open Eddie’s jeans and slipping inside. 

“Just like that,” Eddie whispers, hips nearly bucking off the bed as Steve wraps his fingers around him, giving him three, four, five firm strokes. “Fuck, I love you.” 

He realizes what he did before the words are even fully out, horror and regret hitting him like something solid. Steve’s entire body goes rigid in his hold. The movement of his hand stills. When he pulls back, his mouth is hanging open in shock, and his eyes are wide and horrified. 

“Oh, shit,” Eddie whispers. “No, wait.”

When he reaches out, Steve twists out of his grasp. The air in the room was warm and electric a moment ago, but now it hits Eddie like a bucket of ice. 

“I’m sorry,” he pleads, but Steve is already backing away from the bed. “I shouldn’t have- … I didn’t mean it like that, I promise.” 

Steve shakes his head so hard his hair whips. 

“No,” he whispers, and his voice cracks. “It’s me who shouldn’t have. This was … Fuck, this is all one giant mistake, Eddie. We never should’ve even- …  I’m sorry.” 

He whirls, pausing just long enough to pick up his fallen shirt from the floor, and then he’s gone, door slamming behind him before Eddie can so much as call out. 

By the time Eddie manages to pick himself off the bed and make his way out of the bedroom, the apartment is empty. The bag with the skates is still lying next to the shoe rack. 

Outside, the rain grows thicker. 

Tag list: @grtwdsmwhr @p0lybl4nkk @fairytalesreality @colidamae @dissociatingdemon

@steddhie @formosusiniquis @steddiehasmywholeheart @ellaelsinore 

@braincell-pingpong @sofadofax @foolishness-and-confusion @aol19 @im-sam-fucking-winchester

[aventurineswife]

Yesterday was my birthday, so can I request the astral express crew making a surprise birthday party for reader? :) (Oh! And if you can, please add a little scenario about Dan Heng x reader in the story. It can be anything! I just love Dan Heng so much, hehe) Please and thank you. Also, make reader to think that the crew didn't remember their birthday, so it would be more of a surprise for them.

Surprise in the Silence

Summary: It’s the day of your birthday, and you’re feeling a little down, convinced the crew of the Astral Express had forgotten about your special day. To your surprise, the crew has secretly planned a celebration just for you, and you’re overwhelmed by their love and care. Dan Heng, who has always been quiet and reserved, reveals his feelings in his own subtle way, reminding you of your importance to the crew and leaving you with a new sense of connection and hope.

Tags: Astral Express x Reader (implied Dan Heng x Reader), Birthday Surprise, Emotional Comfort, Fluff, Quiet Moments.

A/N: HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY!! 💖💖 sorry this fic is coming out uh late... 🧍‍♀️🙏😭 Hope you enjoy!!

It was a quiet day aboard the Astral Express. The gentle hum of the train as it glided through space was the only sound filling the corridors, the occasional soft chatter of the crew or the quiet rustle of pages turning, but otherwise, the ship was calm. You had spent most of the morning lost in thought, your mind lingering on the events of the previous day. You had woken up with high hopes, expecting the usual celebration from your friends, only to find that no one had acknowledged your birthday. It stung, but you quickly pushed the feeling aside. After all, the crew had their own priorities, and you knew they weren’t the type to make a big deal of things.

The morning passed by slowly.

Himeko and Welt were in the command room, discussing the next destination. March was busy with her usual antics, but you hadn’t really noticed her in particular today. You could hear her and Caelus (or Stelle, depending on your preferences) laughing from the other side of the ship as they played a game or debated about something trivial. You didn't mind, and you didn't expect much—after all, birthdays were just another day in the vast expanse of the stars, right?

But Dan Heng… he had barely said anything to you today. As usual, he kept to himself, always the quiet protector, his focus unwavering as he stood watch over the crew. You admired his dedication to his role, but it was the same story every day: silent, reserved, and seemingly indifferent to anything beyond his responsibilities. You wondered if maybe he, too, had forgotten, though you wouldn’t dare ask.

As the afternoon wore on, you went about your day, trying to focus on your tasks and avoid any more thoughts of disappointment. You passed by the kitchen, where March was attempting to bake something (it was likely going to end in chaos, but you didn’t mind). You smiled weakly at her, but nothing felt quite right. You had hoped for something small—a little acknowledgment, maybe a greeting. But you pushed the thought away again.

Then, without warning, you heard voices—Himeko, Welt, March, and Caelus (or Stelle), all laughing and talking loudly from somewhere nearby. You blinked, puzzled. You didn’t think much of it at first, assuming it was just another one of their usual banter-filled moments. But then you heard a voice, a familiar one, that made your heart skip a beat.

“...Is everything ready?” It was Dan Heng. His calm tone cut through the noise, and you couldn’t help but feel a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Why was he involved in this?

You turned the corner, and what you saw almost made your breath catch.

The entire crew had gathered in the main hall of the Astral Express. A banner reading Happy Birthday hung above the table, which was laden with food, snacks, and a small cake decorated with stars. It was simple, but the effort was evident. The sight of everyone—Himeko, Welt, March, Caelus (or Stelle), and Dan Heng—standing there with grins on their faces was enough to make your heart swell with surprise and joy.

"Surprise!" March exclaimed, her usual mischievous grin plastered across her face. "We didn’t forget! We were just waiting for the right moment."

"You thought we had forgotten?" Welt chuckled, his smile warm. "We may be a bit unconventional in our ways, but we never forget those who matter."

Dan Heng was standing off to the side, his usual stoic expression in place. But there was something softer in his eyes when they met yours. It wasn’t much, just a small, almost imperceptible shift, but you knew it was there. You couldn’t help but blush slightly at the thought that, maybe, he had known how much this meant to you.

"It’s okay," you stammered, your voice betraying the emotions you were struggling to keep in check. "I… I didn’t expect anything. It’s not that important."

Himeko stepped forward, gently resting a hand on your shoulder. "To us, it is," she said softly. "You’re part of the crew, and we care about you. Birthdays may not always be a big deal to some, but we’re here to make it special for you."

As the crew gathered around the table to share the cake and celebrate, you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the love and care they were showing you. This wasn’t just a simple celebration—it was a reminder that they saw you, that you mattered to them.

Later, after the laughter and festivities had calmed down, you found yourself standing in a quieter corner of the train with Dan Heng. The others had dispersed, leaving the two of you alone.

"You… you were in on this?" you asked, your voice soft, almost shy. You looked up at him, trying to gauge his expression. For the first time that day, there was a small, rare smile on his lips.

"I wasn’t sure if you’d want the attention," he admitted, his voice quiet and thoughtful, "but I couldn’t let the day pass without doing something for you. You deserve to know you’re appreciated, even if you don’t ask for it."

Your heart fluttered at his words. You had always known Dan Heng to be a man of few words, but the depth of his care had always been evident, even if he rarely expressed it. This quiet moment between you felt like something special, something you would hold dear for a long time.

"Thank you," you whispered, the gratitude in your voice undeniable. "It means more than you know."

Dan Heng nodded, his gaze softening for just a moment before he turned to leave. But before he did, he paused, as if contemplating something.

"Next time… don’t hide your feelings so much. We all care for you." He said it with a quiet confidence, a subtle acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between the two of you over time.

And with that, he disappeared into the halls of the Astral Express, leaving you standing there with a heart full of warmth and a quiet hope that, maybe, just maybe, this new chapter of your life had finally begun.

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo: Chapter Twelve

First Chapter: here

Previous Chapter: here

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

I am no longer doing tags. Tumblr hates me and I’d rather not waste my time when there are so many! You can keep up to date on Twisted Zoo on Tumblr, Quotev, Wattpad, or AO3.

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you. 

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

WARNINGS: yandere themes

Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Note 2: This is the final chapter before the endings. Sorry!

—-------------------------------------------------------

The eerily flickering lights of the aquarium almost gave you pause. Strange. You stepped through the employee only entrance and pressed on the light switch. Still, the lights flickered.

“Shriiiimp!” Floyd’s telltale voice cried out from the edge of the tank, his arms crossed on the concrete and chin resting on top of them.

“Shrimp?” you laughed, “Is that what you’re calling me now?”

Floyd giggled and stared at you with lidded eyes, “Shrimp!”

“What’s up with the lights?” you asked him, gesturing to the overhead electrical issues. Floyd shrugged and slipped into the water with a breathless giggle. 

You frowned, feeling a little unsettled by the way his shadow danced along the wall as the lights’ flickering became longer. You took a seat at the edge of the tank.

“Where’s Jade?” you asked.

“Right here,” his voice startled you. You swerved your head so quickly that it cricked, spotting his mismatched gaze from a few feet away. Jade’s chin was just above the surface, so that he wouldn’t get water in his mouth when he talked, “We missed you.”

“I missed you guys, too,” you said with a smile, “What’s up with the lights?”

As always, there was a cold edge to Jade’s smile, “Nothing to worry about. Electrical problem. It happens sometimes.”

You nodded, though his answer didn’t make you feel any less uneasy. “I see. Let’s hope it gets fixed soon.”

To your surprise, white hair broke the surface and piercing eyes met yours before they softened behind their spectacles. This was the first time Azul had surfaced on his own without Floyd dragging him to the surface. 

“How nice of you to come,” he said, giving you a closed-eyed smile. His gaze suddenly turned serious and he seemed to size you up. “We rarely see you.”

“It’s nice to see you, Azul,” you offered with another smile. A tentacle slid out of the water and brushed against your ankle. You noticed it beginning to curl around the appendage and quickly stood up, knocking it back into the water. 

You backed away from the edge, ignoring the hurt look on his face, “I should really check on the electrical system. It might not be safe if the lights are acting up like this.”

“Noooo,” Floyd wailed, his eyes gleaming with hidden mirth, “Shriiimp, stay! We miiiiss you…”

You felt something brush against your ankle again and stepped back from the edge. Black tentacles slid back into the tank. Jade smiled pleasantly at you, “There’s no rush. You can stay with us.”

“No,” you backed away from the tank, “No, I think I’m done for today.” The lights continued to flicker, staying dark for even longer, sending shadows playing across the faces of the tank’s three inhabitants, making their leering faces look even more frightening in that moment.

As the door slammed behind them, Azul turned to the twins in amusement, speaking in what sounded like clicks to the cameras above the tank, “I believe I have her measurements down.”

Floyd giggled, “Next time?”

“Next time, she’s ours.”

—---------------------------

You decided that, today, you would visit Idia before the snakes. You were much too excited to give him the gift you had brought him to wait any longer.

“Idia! I have a surprise for you!” you called out as you entered the enclosure. The lizard halfling was in the very back of the terrarium, curled up in the corner gloomily.

“What is it now?” he asked, not sounding enthusiastic in the slightest.

You handed over your old, blue Nintendo DS along with a ziploc bag filled with games. Idia’s eyes widened, “What is this?”

“It’s a handheld gaming device. You just pop the game you want to play in and open it up,” you explained happily, “It’ll eventually die but-”

“It will die?!” Idia looked horrified, “It is alive?!”

“No no no,” you quickly explained, “I just mean it’ll run out of battery, but I can always charge it again for you.”

Idia’s shoulders sagged in relief and the corners of his lips turned up in a soft smile, “Thank you.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” you said, straightening up and turning to leave. To your surprise, an electric blue tail curled around your ankle. You turned to face the lizard halfling and were met with pleading eyes.

“Stay, teach me to use it,” Idia begged. 

With a smile, you sat down and picked a random game out of the ziploc bag and popped it in the empty compartment. You flipped open the device and turned it on as Idia watched in awe.

—-----------------------------------

“Hey, Jamil! Hey, Kalim!” you called out, your voice echoing in the heated terrarium. Jamil lifted his head from where he was coiled, his slitted eyes lazily studying you. Kalim, on the other hand, slithered forward eagerly.

“Yay! You’re back!” Kalim cried out, his arms wrapping around your midsection and his face burying itself into your stomach. You stumbled backwards at the enthusiastic force he put into his hug but managed to stay upright. 

“Jamil and I missed you. Jamil talked about you.”

You looked over at the viper halfling, who avoided eye contact. You stifled a giggle and said, “Well, I missed both of you too.”

Kalim’s face brightened, but Jamil’s expression remained guarded. There was tension in the air, something between the two that you couldn’t quite decipher. 

“Did you bring anything?” Kalim asked excitedly and you realized he was remembering the donuts from last time.

“I’m afraid not. I was going to bring curry but I didn’t have time to make it.”

Kalim made a disgusted face, “Why curry? Curry is gross!”

Jamil’s eyes flashed with irritation and he gave Kalim a fearsome glare, “Because that is my favorite.”

The tension between the two crackled like electricity and you quickly intervened, “I’ll bring some next time, Jamil. Kalim, can I bring you anything?”

Kalim looked puzzled as he tried to think of what you could bring. He finally smiled brightly and shrugged, “Anything but curry!”

Jamil continued to glare at his roommate as he said lowly, “Thank you, (Y/n).”

“How have you both been?” you asked.

Jamil opened his mouth to respond and was immediately cut off by Kalim, “I missed you soooooo much!”

You laughed, “I missed you too.” You looked at your watch and with a pang you realized you were running low on time already, “Have you been up to anything exciting?”

Kalim’s grin widened, “After you left, I cried. Then, I shed my skin. Then, I rested. Then…”

Kalim gave you a play-by-play of everything he had been up to since your previous visit. You watched as the seconds ticked by on your watch, fighting off boredom.

Finally, you realized you couldn’t stay any longer if you were planning to see the tigers and panthers today. You hesitantly interrupted Kalim’s droning and said, “I’m so sorry, guys, but I need to head out.”

Kalim’s eyes widened and he wrapped his arms around you once again, “Please, stay longer.”

“I can’t, Kalim. I promise I’ll be back soon,” you said, gently disentangling yourself from his grasp.

Kalim’s eyes filled with tears, “You’re always leaving! It’s not fair!”

“I know, and I’m really sorry. But I’ll make it up to you next time, okay?” you reassured him, reaching out to give his head a gentle pat.

Kalim’s sobs followed you out the door of the enclosure. You felt like a heartless monster as you closed the door, but you knew you couldn’t stay and now had to run to make it on time. 

Behind the closed door, Jamil hissed at Kalim to shut up and the boy stopped crying almost immediately. Then, his eyes lit up as an idea crossed his mind…

Meanwhile, you had finally arrived at the panthers and tigers exhibit. You hurried into the exhibit and stopped dead in your tracks. To your surprise, it wasn’t just Silver and Sebek standing near the employee entrance but, for the first time, Malleus and Lilia as well. 

Before you could question the sudden welcome, Lilia skipped up to you and linked his arm with yours, half-walking, half-dragging you over to the others.

“You’re late!” Sebek yelled.

“Sorry about that,” you winced at the volume of his voice and waved to the four halflings sheepishly, “How are you all?”

Lilia brought you closer to the other three and Malleus reached out and gently grasped your chin. He redirected your face to look at him and you frowned at his serious expression.

“Crowley,” Malleus said softly, “You cannot trust him. In fact, you cannot trust anyone here.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, suspicion spiking immediately. Sure, Mr. Crowley was eccentric, but to not be able to trust him? Wasn’t that going a bit far?

Malleus’s frown deepened, “He will allow anything to happen to you, if it is for the better of the zoo.”

You shook your head and let out an awkward, humorless laugh, “I don’t think that’s true…”

“A storm is coming, (Y/n),” Silver said softly.

“You can’t trust anyone,” Sebek affirmed.

“Least of all us,” Lilia said with an eerie smile.

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Unfocused

Roy Harper x Reader

wc: 1.1 k summary: Jason is fed up with how unfocused Roy is getting. warnings: no y/n used, fluff mostly, kinda crackfic?, lots of cussing, hints of previous night activities a/n: this is a drabble but it contains the backstory from Brother's Bestfriend ! hope you enjoy!! divider: @xurengu0

The rain of bullets hit the other side of the car as Jason and Roy hide behind it. It‘s not the best coverage, so they‘ll need to flee soon. Once the goons are reloading their guns, and the assault of bullets is briefly paused, they use their opportunity to run away from the open field. In the midst of it all, Roy doesn‘t see the flash grenade that‘s being thrown at them and almost steps right over it. Jason has to jump at him and tackle him down to create distance together from it. A heavy grunt leaves the red head and he‘s ready to be mad at Jason‘s unreasonable attack, until Jason yells at him first.

»Are you fucking stupid?! Couldn‘t see that fucking flash being thrown at us?«

They don‘t have enough time to argue over it as the goons are starting to catch up with them, clearly satisfied that their distraction worked.

The pair scrambles to their feet and manage to get onto a rooftop without any further complaint. »Focus, dammit!« Jason exclaims back at his partner one last time before they get going with the current plan.

With a silent grunt, Roy squeezes his upper arm and checks his injury. His head thumps back against the container, still trying to catch his breath from the chase. Jason paces small circles until he finally stops and towers over Roy, his frown not evident due to his mask, but Roy can feel it anyway.

»I swear, I will shove my gun so far up your ass, it will get stuck and you can never shit normally again, if you do that one more time,« finally, he exhales after holding his anger in during the run, »What was that anyway? Did you fall asleep earlier?«

Jason cocks his head to the side, resting his hands on his hips like a disappointed parent would. Roy doesn‘t feel too scared, though, simply rubbing the back of his neck with his good hand.

»Was thinking of something. Sorry.« He tries to dismiss it without any further argument, not in the mood to cause any more unecessary anger.

It‘s quiet for a moment until Jason speaks up first, his voice more judgemental than before.

»What‘s tha‘ on your neck?« He regrets asking that in the first place, he doesn‘t even want to know now. The way his best friend tilts his head away from Jason says enough. His cap blocks the sight of his eyes and cheeks, but he is sure that Roy is currently blushing.

A heavy sigh, »Oh, c‘mon… are ya‘ll that freaky?« followed by a, »I should‘ve guessed...«

It‘s clear that Jason is at least a little disappointed at his best friend and his sister, you. The fact that Roy got distracted in the first place, made Jason rather concerned than mad. But to know the real reason of the distraction… it made him want to rip his ass apart and try to lecture you on your actions. Jason knows that couples do… things. But he wasn‘t prepared to see the evidence on his best friend. Especially during a mission that failed. However, he doesn‘t want to prod on it any longer and nods towards the exit of the alleyway.

»I will definitely shove my gun up your ass...«

↣

At first, Jason didn‘t want to let Roy tag along into his apartment, but he couldn‘t deny him after some more arguing. You are already comfortably seated in the couch with a warm cup of tea and watch the newest trash TV in your shared apartment. It‘s nice and warm, being wrapped inside a fuzzy blanket as you get lost in the show. The click of the window snaps you back, looking over to the bigger window in the same room. Red Hood greets you first, although he doesn‘t say anything, just lowly grunting as he climbs inside. Arsenal follows up, bringing a smile to your face. You don‘t see it, but Jason rolls his eyes under his mask, taking a straight route to his bedroom; probably to cool off.

Your smile softens as Roy steps in front of you by the couch, arms spread open as if expecting a hug from you. However, he doesn‘t get it as you stay seated in your blanket with the cup of tea.

»Too warm to stand up.«

He shakes his head and instead flops down beside you, head planted in your lap after taking his cap off. You watch as he closes his eyes and relaxes into the cushion and your lap, a low sigh leaving him. Jason seems to be taking a shower in the meantime, giving you two some more time to be alone.

»How was the mission?« You ask out of curiousity as you tangle a hand into his hair, watching his relaxed expression.

»Bad. Got distracted, we didn‘t get anything from these guys...« He sighs out before opening his eyes to look up at you from your lap. »Why were you distracted?« But before he could answer you, Jason steps out of the shower and reenters the living room.

»Yeah, Roy, why were you distracted?«

You think that Jason is simply mocking Roy because he‘s still mad, but in reality, Jason just wants to verbally abuse his best friend, since he can never look into his eyes the same again.

Jason moves to sit between you and Roy, arms crossed and eyes trained onto the TV, even though he doesn‘t seem focused on it. This makes you scoff lightly and scoot away from your brother, sipping onto your tea.

»Give him a break, I‘m sure it was just a small slip-up.« You shrug and don‘t expect much from the both of them, simply hoping that Jason will stop being so annoying. However, he only gets a bit more aggravated from it.

»Small slip-up… if you two just— okay. I won‘t say it, but you guys need to get it together.«

It‘s almost funny how allergic Jason is to saying some specific words and it almost makes you let out a soft chuckle. Before you realise what he means. You clear your throat in light embarrassment and pull your blanket higher up to your chin, not wanting to let him find out more. A rather awkward silence settles between you three, eventually turning the volume up from the TV.

Jason stays seated between you two, until he finally releases a more softer huff. »I get grey hair because of you, I‘m not even joking.« He shakes his head lightly until he leans back further into the couch, resting his head on Roy‘s shoulder. You notice and quirk an eyebrow at him, scoffing lightly.

»Hey, that‘s my boyfriend!«

»Shut up, he‘s not allowed to be near you until he behaves.«

Roy shrugs with a light huff, unsure if he should laugh or cry with how stupidly protective Jason is being.

»I didn‘t even do anything!«

»Remember what I said about my gun?«

a/n: made this under an hour, it's wobbly and strange, but i had to get this out of my mind

←MASTERLIST

[agent-cupcake]

Amen

Pairing: Suguru Geto x f! Reader

Synopsis: No matter the severity of your actions, Suguru would never actually hurt a member of his sorcerer family. Luckily, there are other ways he can think of to punish you. It's for your own good.

Warnings: Explicit smut, dubcon, possessive behavior, manipulation

Tags: Punishment, edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, dirty talk, vibrators, bondage, orgasm torture, cunnilingus, humiliation

Word Count: 10.4k

Notes: This story is for @laurenzel. I think this can be almost seen as a companion to my previous Gojo story since there's similar toxic motives and means used by the men, but a difference in method.

“Would you care to join me tonight?” was what Geto said to you, smiling so sweetly, so gently. He said it like an offer, or a question, but you both knew the answer. It was the same as it had been since the very first time he asked, since the first time he kissed you, since the first night you spent together.

And you, finally given direction in the big, confusing world, couldn’t even conceive of saying no to Geto. You didn’t have to do, say, or think anything on your own—just follow him. And you did. Happily, you did, thinking nothing of the offer other than how pleased you were that he asked. 

Chills prickled over your bare arms and legs when you walked into his room. The air felt a few degrees too cool, especially when you were accustomed to the August heat. Everything about his room seemed cold. It was furnished in stark contrast to the simple, traditional temple façade the rest of the complex maintained outwardly. Black painted walls, a hard floor, and ebony furniture upholstered with dark leathers and suedes. There was a flat, modern utilitarianism to the room despite its luxury, all at once inviting and off putting. The silky black sheets and dusky saturation of velvety vanilla and citrus lent a sex appeal to the room that you inextricably associated with Geto.

“Will you help me with this?” he asked, gesturing to his clothes. 

“Yes, of course,” you said, rushing to his side to help him undress. Even though the vestments Geto wore were for show, the articles were genuine and required careful handling. A perfect costume needed to be authentic. You unfastened the kasaya first, hanging it up. 

“I think,” he said while your hands were busy, “we need to talk about what you did.” 

You paused, turning to him with your brow furrowed, your stomach dropping in response to the accusatory tone of his voice. “What did I do?” 

“You killed Kurokawa.” 

Your frown deepened, your chest tightening with a harsh burst of guilt. “How do you know that?” 

Geto raised an eyebrow. That was the wrong thing to ask, it made you look more guilty than you were. Besides, the answer was obvious. He knew everything. You shook your head fast, trying to come up with an explanation that didn’t sound like an excuse. 

 “I… I thought you would be happy I took care of him,” you said. “He was causing trouble. He was a bad man.” 

“If you thought I would be pleased, why didn’t you tell me right away?” 

There were reasons, weren’t there? Good ones, explanations that could help you smooth this over. Beneath the weight of his gaze, you couldn’t think of any of them. “I… I don’t, um…  I was going to, but I didn’t want to distract you or anything. I’m not… I didn’t mean-”

“No. You didn’t tell me because you knew you were wrong,” Geto stated, telling you so directly that you couldn’t help but believe it.  

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. 

“To be clear, I’m not concerned with his death,” Geto told you. “I’m worried about you. About what you might do without my intervention. I have been for a while.”  

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” you said. That was probably the most true thing you could say, the sentiment that defined your existence. You did not understand. 

“I like to think that you’ve grown since you joined the family, but sometimes I don’t know if I can trust you to act with a clear head. Kurokawa was a doctor, wasn’t he?” 

You bristled at the reminder, mentally pushing back on the idea that you did it for such a personal reason. “He was… he was dangerous,” you argued. “He wanted to get the police involved.” 

“That isn’t my point,” Geto explained. “You acted out on your own. I knew Kurokawa was causing problems, but I didn't ask you to kill him. He still had value to me, in his own way." He paused, considering you with pursed lips. "If you told me what you did immediately, maybe I wouldn’t jump to conclusions, but as it is, all this proves is that you haven’t moved beyond your past experiences. I can’t trust you."

You bit your lip, swaying back as if those words had been a physical blow, only becoming more confused. Completely and utterly confused about how killing somebody who was a bad man, killing a hateful monkey upset Geto. You did it for him. You did it because the man was evil, and because he said terrible things, and because he was a hideous embodiment of the type of person who would see you locked up tight in another drug dispensing, mind-numbing, monkey hospital. 

All you could understand was that you had disappointed Geto, and the cutting violence of his doubt cut deep into your chest as physically as a knife. 

“I’m sorry,” you said again.

“Are you going to finish this?” Geto asked rather than acknowledge your apology, pulling at his collar. You nodded, rushing back to his side to untie the obi sash and fold it, helping him shrug off his black yukata to hang that up as well.

Left in a tight undershirt, a pair of loose pants, and socks he was quick to peel off and toss aside, Geto-sama emerged from his costume looking a decade younger and twice as dangerous. Like this, he was Suguru. You weren’t equals, but you were more than a little familiar. Although, you weren’t sure if you would dare to be so friendly with him now that you understood you were in trouble.

Before, you assumed you were here because he desired you. Now that felt presumptuous and silly.   

You averted your eyes and stepped back, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The silence physically hurt. Apologies built up like a dam in your head, stopping any other sort of thought from getting through as guilt brewed and boiled in your stomach. Worse, you couldn’t say he was wrong. Maybe you had knowingly acted against Geto, against the family, because of what Kurokawa represented to you. Maybe you couldn’t be trusted. And, if that was true, maybe you deserved his anger and all of the terrible things that followed anger.     

“Are you nervous?” Suguru asked. 

“No,” you said quickly. 

“Liar. I can hear it. Your heart is racing. You’re scared. Is it me?” He nudged your chin up with the side of his hand, forcing you to meet his eyes and the little smile he wore. “Are you frightened of me?” 

“You’re angry,” you said, shrinking back. “Angry with me.”

“Oh,” Suguru hummed thoughtfully, “so you’re scared that I’m going to punish you. Is that it?” 

Hesitantly, you nodded. 

“You’re right, I am.” 

Your breath caught before you shook your head fast, panicking. “No, you… I’m really sorry. I mean it, I was just trying to… He deserved to die.”

“I understand,” Suguru said, “and I appreciate what you say you were trying to do. The problem is that I don’t believe that was your motive. That is why I’m upset.” He ran his fingers through his hair, putting into a messy bun. “Do you understand the distinction?”

You blinked fast, feeling the horrible bite of tears stinging the corners of your eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now… what do you think would be a fitting punishment?” 

You looked up at him in stark shock, hoping desperately that you misunderstood him. He didn’t clarify anything, simply waiting for you to answer. You shook your head again, your mouth opening and closing before you managed a meek, “I don’t know.” 

“But you agree, don’t you?” he asked, going over to his chest of drawers. Suguru looked at you over his shoulder, eying you up and down, drinking your awkward nerves. “You deserve to be punished for your disobedience.”

You exhaled sharply, conflicted about what kind of answer to give. More importantly, what kind of answer he wanted. If you were smarter, you would be able to talk your way out of this situation. If you were better attuned to Suguru’s needs, you would be able to give him what he wanted. If you were loyal, he wouldn’t have been mad in the first place. Those thoughts weren’t helpful, all you could do was stare and try to solve the puzzle of his mood. You had seen that little smirk on his face when he teased Nanako, but also when he killed non-jujutsu sorcerers that had outlived their usefulness. 

“You’re really asking me?” you finally got out, the only response you could muster.

His back was turned to you now as he looked through the drawer, but you saw his shoulder raise in a casual shrug. “I’m curious.” 

 Your gut instinct was to deny that you deserved punishment to try and spare yourself, but you held that impulse. You had already agreed that you did something wrong, so denying that you deserved punishment could make things worse. Then again, if you agreed, then maybe he would take that as permission to do even worse. Either one could potentially upset him too, because it would prove that you didn’t know what he wanted. Suguru did nothing to alleviate your nervous indecision as he turned around, holding an unmarked red box, watching you with that enigmatic smirk.

“If you think I do,” you said carefully, “then-”

“No,” he said, cutting you off. “I am asking if you acknowledge that you deserve punishment for what you have done.”

“I won’t do it again,” you told him, your voice soft. “I promise.” 

Suguru frowned. “That’s not what I asked.”

“I know, but it’s true,” you insisted. Rather than relent to your distress, his eyes narrowed dangerously, finally giving you some indication about the response he actually wanted. “I do!” You said quickly. “I…” The words were thick like syrup, awkward to get out. “I deserve to be punished.” 

Suguru smiled, setting the box on the bed and sitting on the black leather footboard bench, his legs spread wide and comfortable and head slightly tilted.  

“Are you going to hurt me?” you asked softly.

“Hurt you?” Suguru asked, raising a thin eyebrow. “I would never hurt you. I don’t think you’re likely to learn from pain anyway, hm? It wasn’t effective for your parents or doctors.”

“But… but you said you were going to punish me?” you asked, looking between him and the box with an increasing amount of anxiety. 

“Take off your clothes.”

Your jaw dropped. “I… My… You mean it?” 

He raised both eyebrows, daring you to deny him. You clutched at the front of your dress, your shoulders curling in. 

“But why?” you asked. He immediately gave you a pointed look, like you were stupid. “This… it’s… You want to…?” You couldn’t even finish the question, the whole thing was so divorced from any coherence you could wrap your head around. 

“You're allowed to say no and leave, I won’t stop you,” Suguru told you. He considered that for a moment, his head falling to the side. “If you stay, we’ll switch to your safe word rather than no. You remember it, don’t you?”

Safe word? You remembered him establishing that the first night he allowed you into his bed, but you hadn’t really thought much of it. Why would you ever want him to stop? Now the thought of it made you feel a little cold, and not because of the air conditioner valiantly chugging away in an attempt to keep the August heat at bay. It had taken a few days to come to terms with sleeping with Suguru after it first happened, but this was unreal in an entirely different way. You felt like you were looking down a very long, dark tunnel, like you were hopelessly and utterly lost.   

“I do,” you said faintly. “I remember.” 

“It’s your choice then.” 

You winced, unable to look at him. You weren’t going to leave. That was unthinkable. The idea of undressing in front of him like it was some sort of show wasn’t especially comfortable either, but you understood that you would do it. “That’s… it’s embarrassing.”

“I’ve noticed,” Suguru said. “You don’t want to think of yourself as the type of woman who would strip for a man. But you are, and you will. For me.”

You flushed darker, avoiding his eyes. Trying to keep your breathing from going completely out of control, you nodded. It was easier to obey. You wouldn’t know what you would do if you left his room right now, where you would go, how you would feel. It wasn’t about you, it was about what you had done to disappoint Suguru, and how you would make it right. He wanted to know that you were loyal, that you had left behind the pathetic wretch you used to be. 

Humiliating as it was, he was helping you. That was all he had ever done. 

“Yes, sir.” 

With shaking hands, you unzipped your dress. Considering the summer heat, you were wearing as little as possible. Three articles of clothing separating you from his eyes. You weren’t sure if that was better, making it so the process of undressing wasn’t so drawn out, or worse because it meant you couldn’t stall. 

“Keep going,” Suguru said when you hesitated with your thumbs hooked beneath the waistband of your panties. Closing your eyes, you pushed them down. The only positive you could think of was that you had the foresight to shave the night before. Ever since the first night you slept together you’d been taking personal grooming extremely seriously. Removing your bra was the worst of it all, but you dutifully undid the clasps and pushed the straps down your arms. He had seen you naked before, you reasoned. Even if you were disappointing, he still had asked to see you. It was fine. 

If Suguru wanted it, it was fine.

“You’re too pretty to be so self-conscious,” he told you in a very calm, matter-of-fact way. 

You tried not to shuffle awkwardly, clasping your hands in front of your stomach to hide their shaking. “Thank you,” you said softly, unable to meet his eyes even if you could feel them heavily on your flushing skin. 

“Come here,” Suguru ordered. In your peripheral, you saw his hand raise, a single finger curling to draw you towards him. 

You obeyed on awkward feet, glad to close the distance. He sat up to meet you face to face, having to look up at you for once and pulling you closer. You automatically parted your lips to kiss him. That was something you knew how to do. But his parted lips only brushed the corner of your mouth. When you tried to tilt your head to catch him, Suguru pulled back. Your eyes fluttered open—when had you closed them?—to see him smirking at the little trick. 

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, releasing you.

Nerves knotted and tangled in your stomach. There was something hot about his detached control, but you weren’t sure you liked it either. Vulnerability was discomfort. And still, you knew better than to argue or question. Trying to preserve as much of your modesty as was possible, you got onto his bed. It was easier to comply. Better to be obedient like he wanted. You didn’t want to disappoint him again. 

“These are for you,” Suguru said, finally revealing the contents of the red box by lifting the glossy lid. 

You stared into the box with curiosity, and then with a sharp pang of recognition. After that, nerves. Dread. Excitement. Blinking over and over didn’t change what you saw, there was no mistake about what lay inside. A lot of leather. Some chains. Scarf-like ties. You were pretty sure the wand-shaped item was a vibrator. 

Suguru choked you last time you had sex, and he pinned your wrists down and pulled your hair and left marks on your thighs and chest, but this was different. Dangerous. This was scary. 

“Geto-sama…” you said nervously, sticking to the formal address in the hopes that he would understand the sincerity of your doubt. “I’m not…”

“As I said, you’re allowed to stop this at any time,” he said, dropping the lid back onto the box with a crisp snap. “I would never force you into anything. If you truly feel bad for what you have done and want to prove yourself to me, I shouldn’t need to coerce you.”

Guilt and nerves writhed in your stomach. And excitement, always excitement for the simple reason that it was Suguru. You would do anything for him, wouldn’t you? He had saved you. You disappointed him, it was only right that you did as you were told. You pushed the lid off again, forcing a sort of resolve. Your heart beat like a frantic war drum in your chest, and you were flushing so hotly it felt like a fever. 

“What’s this all for?” you asked, your voice hoarse. 

“You won’t be able to hold still on your own,” he replied simply. “Besides, I think you’ll look sexy like this. I was waiting for an opportunity to try it.” 

The bottom of your stomach gave way to anxious lust. You licked your lips, trying to calm yourself down. 

“Okay,” you said softly. 

“Put them on for me,” Suguru said, pulling out four of the leather cuffs. Your eyes widened, your lips parting to argue that as a step too far. It would be so much easier for you if he did it himself, if you didn’t have to actively engage with putting yourself in a literal bind. 

Although maybe that was the point. This was punishment. 

Prove your loyalty. You could do that for him. 

Despite your forced mental affirmation, the whole task seemed too daunting for a moment, you had a nervously suffocating sense like drowning, but you forced that down. You would do anything for Suguru. That’s what this was about. Proving to him that you were loyal, that you would do as he said. That you were devoted.  

You did the wrist cuffs first, slipping the first over your left hand and tightening the strap with your right. There was only one size; they would fit snugly. Thick chains hung from both cuffs. Although they weren’t as bad as pure metal bracelets, the leather wouldn’t be kind to your skin if you resisted too much. Tightening the strap on the right cuff was even worse since you were working with your non-dominant hand. 

“Do you need help?” Suguru asked, laughing at your frustrated attempts to get the tongue through the buckle. 

“Don’t laugh, please,” you begged, talking very softly to hide your increasingly unstable emotions. “I’m trying.” 

“Here,” he said indulgently, “let me.” Suguru held out his hands for you to let him finish securing the cuff. “Do you need help with your ankles?”

“No, I… Thank you,” you said, unable to look at his expression. You could do this. You had to do this. 

Still, your hands trembled unsteadily. When you nervously fumbled with the leather strap around your ankle, he laughed again. 

“Don’t look,” you mumbled. The chains hanging from your wrists playfully clinked against the chains on your ankles.  

“I have to make sure you do it properly. You could hurt yourself.”

“It’s embarrassing,” you whispered, more petulant than anything.  

“I know,” Suguru told you sweetly, “but you’ve been such a good girl so far.” 

Your breath caught at the praise. At the very least, he looked away to pull off his shirt. You used the distraction to get your ankles secured, watching him remove his pants with your hands between your legs to retain some modesty. Suguru, stripped to his boxers, surveyed your handiwork, a little smile growing on his face.

“What?” you asked nervously. 

“Given how shy you are, I thought it would take more than this to convince you to do this for me. I don’t know if I’m disappointed or impressed.”

You frowned with a twisting sense of betrayal, but he cut off your displeasure by grabbing your legs to yank you towards him, leaning over the bed so he could kiss you.  

Before Suguru, you hadn’t really understood what the point of kissing was. It was an act of affection you mirrored with others because it was what people did. When Suguru licked your lips open for himself, you understood. Any touch of his body against yours had a potent effect, but the openly intimate domination of his tongue against yours, his fingers slipping up your hair to tilt your head, the hand on your bare waist, it was enough to clear your mind all over again. Igniting the purest type of motivation—lust. 

You wanted to show him your devotion. You wanted him to know you were sorry. You clung to his shoulders, hoping he could feel it.

All too soon, Suguru pulled back, his lips hovering inches from your own. You tried to follow, but he held you in place by your hair. 

“I’m impressed,” he said, answering his comment from before. “I admire your dedication. I only wish it extended to your actions. I can’t trust you until I know you obey me.”

“I do,” you said. “I…I will.” 

“Not yet.” Suguru didn’t wait for your response, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips, your cheek, and then tilting your head to whisper in your ear. “Move back. I’ll take care of the rest,” he told you, his husky voice making you shudder.

“Yes, sir,” you muttered so softly you wondered if he heard you. When Suguru pulled away, you scooted back to sit in the center of his bed, waiting and watching with equal parts nerves and anticipation. He picked through the red box again, pulling out another set of leather cuffs and a bundle of those silky scarves. 

“Open your legs,” he ordered in a business-like voice as he joined you on the bed, crawling up to you and readying one of the leather straps. The sudden shift of tone surprised you, throwing you off all over again. 

“What’s that?” you asked nervously. He gave you a sharp look and you relented, opening your legs. Being exposed so brazenly made your skin crawl, but he paid no attention to your naked body, wrapping the strap around your thigh and fastening it, repeating the process on your other leg. 

“What is it that the monkey said to upset you?” Suguru asked casually as he tested the straps for give, deeming them satisfactory. The conversational tone burst your bubble of rose tinged intimacy, sending your thoughts back to unpleasant places. “I assume something set you off.” 

“I… um…” As if revealing a magic trick, he unwound a length of the red scarf-like fabric, distracting you from a question you hadn’t really understood in the first place.

“Or did he try to attack you?” Suguru pushed, neatly doubling the scarf and pulling it around your back. He had to sit close as he blindly tied the knot and the cashmeran twilight scent of his skin filled your senses, you held your breath when he pulled away just to keep it close for a moment longer. 

“Have you done this before?” you asked as he wound the scarf around your chest and shoulders with a practiced hand, searching for a distraction from the embarrassment. 

“Does it bother you if I have?” Suguru asked. 

“No, sir.” 

He had to lean forward again to fasten the final knot on your back. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said softly. “What happened?” 

You winced. “He called me delusional. He said I’m just a… a bitch in your harem, and that I’d go down with you.” 

“I see,” Suguru said, pulling back, his expression impassive. 

“I’m really sorry, Geto-sama,” you said. 

“Are you worried he’s right?” Suguru asked, his voice so saccharinely sweet it had to be mocking. 

“I don’t… I don’t know.” 

“You are special to me,” Suguru told you sweetly, petting your hair. 

“You’re special to me too,” you said, eager to try and express your adoration. “Very, very special.” 

“I’m doing this because you’re so special to me. I can help you grow, and help you move on. I can show you the benefits of an honest life without the petty influence of the weak, but I cannot force your obedience. I need you to choose to listen to me, to obey me.”

“That is my choice,” you said. 

“Haven’t you heard the phrase ‘actions speak louder than words’?” Suguru countered, revealing the final trick of his little magic show. The chains on your wrists connected to those on your ankles with a few inches of slack, your ankle cuffs connected to the straps on your thighs, and the loose ends of scarves from the harness he had just finished tying were threaded into the D-rings on your thigh straps. Unable to balance upright, you rolled onto your back, fully exposed and unable to do much of anything about it. “This is your chance to make amends.” 

Suguru put his hand on your bare chest, right above your racing heart as it beat against your ribs. “You’re scared again,” he said. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. Do you not believe that?” 

“I’m just…” you squirmed uncomfortably, unable to articulate what you felt. You didn’t know what you felt, couldn’t figure out anything beyond the intensely physical embarrassment and the panicked disquiet of being bound and exposed.  

“You know what to do to make this stop,” he pointed out, his hand dragging down your chest to your flinching stomach. “Just say the word, and I’ll let you leave.”

Suguru told you that almost like it was a joke. He was daring you to use the safe word and stop him, to show him that you weren’t as devoted as you claimed. His hand reached your pelvis and you whimpered, your hips wiggling in an undecided way. Did you want him to touch you, or were you nervous for that part? You couldn’t tell. The feelings were the same. 

He finally dropped over you, both of his hands resting on your ass before brushing up your thighs, pressing them further apart as he kissed you with an open mouth. Suguru’s tongue urgently met yours, teasing enough to invite your active and enthusiastic participation. To show him how much you wanted him. Of course you did. 

With a surprising bite on your lower lip, Suguru left your mouth to move down, licking and kissing his way across your jaw, following the line of your neck. He stopped there, sucking hard right above your pulse until you shuddered hard, making a soft, helpless noise. Your hands anxiously jerked, but all that did was snap the chains taut. Taking his time, his hand trailed down your thigh, his fingernails scraping the skin, until he reached your pussy. 

When Suguru’s fingers made contact with the sensitive flesh, you yelped, and he bit your neck hard enough to draw that yelp out into a pathetic keen. Your attempt to free your hands so you could push him back served only to pull your legs open wider. 

“Was that too much?” Suguru asked, lightly tracing your slit. 

“Hurts,” you said, your breathing hard and fast. He chuckled warmly, finding your clit and tracing little circles over it, just teasing. You whimpered. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” He asked, his lips brushing your skin as he moved down your chest. 

You made a choked, conflicted sound in your throat, any coherent response leaving your head the second his mouth closed around your nipple. Electric pulses of pleasure zipped down to your core, made that much more intense by the fingers on your clit. Suguru added more pressure against it, the weight sweetened by the friction of his calloused fingertips. Your hips rolled into the touch, your back arching for every delicious movement of his tongue or teeth on your nipple. 

A hoarse wail left your mouth when he released you with a wet pop, moving to do the same to your other nipple. His fingers were truly grinding against your clit at this point. It wasn’t the sweet enticement of pleasure, but a brute force motion that guaranteed you would come fast. 

You whined and moaned and shuddered, fighting the restraints. Sweat slicked up your skin, chafing beneath the restraints as you jerked, your body going taut to prepare for the sudden orgasm. You managed a choked, “I can’t, I can’t, I-” And then that tension snapped. It was good, but the rush was too fast and fleeting, fizzling itself out before you could savor the feeling. All it really did was make you want more.

With another lewdly wet pop, Suguru pulled off your nipple and sat up, his hand retreating from between your legs. “How did that feel?” he asked.

You swallowed, nodding fast. “‘s good. Tha-aa-nk you, sir.” 

“It’s interesting to me how much more sensitive girls are after coming,” Suguru said, teasing you with his fingers lightly tracing over your slit. “It’s almost obscene. Men need time, but you already want more, don’t you?” 

You shuddered, panting and flushed. “Yes. Yes, please.”

He smirked, although you couldn’t say you really understood the joke. Your entire body twitched, the chains clinking, and he licked his lips, looking at your flushed body like he was eying up a meal. 

Your eyes squeezed shut when he ran two fingers from your entrance, dragging a smear of slick arousal up to your clit. 

“No, don’t close your eyes,” Suguru said, beginning to draw patterns over your swelling clit. “Look at me.” 

You nodded, opening your eyes and meeting his gaze despite how overwhelming it was to be watched while he touched you so intimately. You squirmed, inhaling sharply through your teeth, already feeling the tantalizing build. 

“What about you?” you asked. “You don’t have to, um… um…” Blinking fast, breathing hard, your words scattered like dust and you felt the same tightening in your core, the sparkling promise of release. At the exact moment you were about to come again, Suguru pressed his hand flat between your legs, denying you that final push over the edge. 

Whining and desperate and so, so close, your hips bucked upward, desperate to come again. It was already too late, out of your grasp. “Geto-sama, please, I was-”

“No,” he said simply. 

“What?” 

“No. I’m not going to let you come again. I’ve already given you one more than you deserve.”

“No,” you whispered, horrified. “You… You can’t.” 

“No?” he repeated, his fingers tracing your clit slowly, with the barest amount of pressure. “You remember why I’m doing this, don’t you? I’m punishing you.” He pressed more intently against your clit. Unable to comprehend denial, your body began the process of drawing up tight. “You need to learn to be obedient. You have to learn to take whatever I see fit to give you.” 

“I am,” you gasped out. “I do, I-I will, I’m…” Your back arched, your arms and legs falling aside as if to make an offering of your body in the hopes that he would let you come this time. “I’m sorry that I… that I did that,” you babbled, your pussy tightening around nothing as your body got ready to come. “I’m really… really… I’m-” 

Suguru stopped just when you were on the precipice again, tapping your folds as if to mock your need. You squinted at him, your chest hitching a heavy breath, tears pricking your eyes. “But I said… Oh…” You didn’t finish what you were saying, too distracted by the slick slide of his fingers inside of you. So good. You swallowed hard, your cunt squeezing his fingers desperately as his fingers curled, dragging against your g-spot as they pulled out before thrusting forward. 

“If your words meant anything, you wouldn’t need to be punished in the first place,” Suguru pointed out, although you weren’t paying very close attention, your body awkwardly trying to roll into his fingers as they slowly fucked you. He touched your clit with his other hand, once again ensuring that you would come quickly. 

Too quickly, really. The intensity of pleasure shocked you, especially since you were so sensitive, desperate for more. “Please, can I… will you please… Please?” you begged, your animal need curbed slightly by fear. 

“You should know that no other man will do this for you,” Suguru said. “No one else will ever care for you the way I do.”

You nodded fast, knowing that was the truth. No other person in the world had ever been as kind or compassionate to you as Suguru. Nobody had ever wanted you, or made you feel important, or given you purpose. You loved him. You felt that affection swell alongside your building orgasm. 

He would let you come this time, he wasn’t slowing down. His fingers made a sickening wet schlick as they pumped in and out of your pussy, working in time with the finger on your clit. You were there, your body taut and ready and desperate and-

A wail escaped you when he stopped at the last moment, your entire body jerking in desperation to reclaim your ruined orgasm. As soon as it was gone, he returned to touching you in the same way, vigorously chasing you back to the edge and abandoning you seconds before you could get off. 

“Please,” you begged.

“I told you no,” Suguru reminded you, adding a third finger to pump and curl into your pussy as if to punctuate the cruel statement. You were off the edge now, but your body still stupidly strove to take more pleasure. You blinked tears, confused and needy and trembling, your breathing shallow. 

“Why?” 

He didn’t answer, he didn’t need to. The touch on your clit had you throwing your head back, your nostrils flared and teeth clenched. Chains clicked together when you tried to free your arms, but it was a fruitless struggle. You didn’t want to respond to his touch in the same way, you needed a reprieve, but there was no escape. You were sensitive. Your body remembered coming once, and that was enough of an incentive to try to get more. 

“You can always stop me,” Suguru said. “If it becomes too much.”

“It’s…” you told him, although your attempt to seem brave was weakened by your breathy, pathetic voice. “I’m… I can take whatever you give me. I’m…” You sobbed, overwhelmed by the drag of his fingers against your g-spot. He barely had to put any pressure on your clit, it was so swollen beneath his teasing fingers. “Please, sir. I just… Just one, please?”

“I already let you come once,” he reminded you, amused. 

You moaned miserably, your head tossing back and forth as you readied yourself for another orgasm. You hoped that maybe if you could just come before he noticed, then that would be enough to soothe the horrible ache, the fearful deprivation he kept stoking to a blaze. 

It was there, right at your fingertips, on the tip of your tongue, and Suguru hummed happily when he suddenly pulled his fingers out of you. You shouted, thrashing against your bindings. They all held, keeping you helpless beneath him. 

“Please, I… please.” 

“No,” Suguru said, slowly pushing just one finger into you. You sobbed when he used it to massage your g-spot. Not giving you any real pressure or weight or friction, just that constant reminder of the pleasure you had been denied.

“I can’t,” you said tearfully, straining to get more out of that single finger like a starving woman being thrown crumbs. 

“You can,” Suguru told you. His word was gospel. It didn’t matter what you thought. 

He pulled his finger out before you could get too used to it, only to return with three. You choked, your body jerking hard enough against the restraints to hurt, suddenly thrown into high gear as he properly finger-fucked you, bouncing your entire body. 

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t touching your clit, you could get off just on this. Your body was thrumming with denied pleasure and you wanted it so bad you could scream. 

“Yes, yes, please, yes—No!” 

You were properly sobbing this time when he stopped, almost horrified by the intensity of your body’s disappointment when his fingers pulled out. You had no idea how he was getting the timing so perfect, but it was worse than if he was just hurting you. Suguru shoved his fingers into your open mouth while you were still reeling, smearing the taste of your pussy onto your tongue. You didn’t need his instruction to suck on them, hoping that the display of thoughtless obedience would earn you some leniency.   

“Good girl,” he cooed, pushing his fingers deeper into your mouth, almost enough to make you choke. When he pulled them out, he didn’t linger, kissing a line down your stomach. Your arms fought the restraints when you realized his intentions because you weren’t sure you could handle feeling his mouth on you like this, not if he was going to keep denying you. 

“No,” you whined. “Please, I… I can’t…” 

“Yes, you can,” Suguru said calmly, not even bothering to look up at you.

A heavy, almost guttural moan left your mouth when his tongue licked past your folds, tossing you right back into the abyss of lustful need. All he had to do was brace his forearm across the backs of your thighs and you were unable to do anything, your trapped arms and legs twitching, your feet kicking uselessly into the empty air, the chains connecting them to your wrists clicking. 

Suguru was good at this, switching between flat-tongued licks and pointed patterns, closing his lips around your clit until you were choking out these pathetic little chirps, your body reacting in a way entirely out of your control. 

And when you were there, right at the very edge, he pressed a kiss to your clit and looked up at you from beneath his dark eyelashes. 

You sobbed, throwing your head back in a childish display of disappointment. 

“You’re alright. Breathe,” Suguru said.

“Please,” you begged.

Suguru hummed as he lowered his head, shaking it side to side with his tongue flat against your clit. Your toes curled, your hands forming pathetic fists.  

It didn’t take much to build you up all over again, your entire body was wired and ready. You didn’t think you had ever felt so aware of yourself. Your skin, your pussy, your heart, your body, everything crackled and blazed. What was he doing, drawing kanji with his tongue? You didn’t know, but it felt amazing. You chased that feeling knowing you shouldn’t, thinking that maybe this time, maybe if you were fast enough. Maybe, maybe, maybe-

“No, please, I just wanna…” Suguru’s tongue stilled and he pulled away, watching you fall apart at yet another denied orgasm. “No!”

He casually pressed two fingers into you, massaging them against that spongy spot with a wet squish that was beyond obscene. “You know what to say to make me stop,” he told you.

“I know,” you said, wishing you could cover your face, wishing for some point of sanity here in this lust-mad haze. “I don’t want… Please, Geto-sama, I just wanna come, please.”

“Oh?” he said, his other hand returning to rest on your pelvic bone to playfully tease your clit. “Do you think you deserve that?” 

“I…” You tried desperately to figure out the correct answer by looking at his expression, but you couldn’t tell and his hands kept you distracted. Deserve didn’t matter, all you could think was that you wanted to come. “Yes?” you said, hoping very much that was the correct response, practically praying for the torment to end. His fingers slowed and you let out an embarrassing little keen. “Ah… No, no I…” His expression still didn’t change, leaving you scrambling. Your chest hiccupped with a sob, your confused spiral boiling down to the pit of desperate need. “I don’t know.”  

Rather than respond, Suguru’s head lowered between your legs once more to tongue your clit in time with his fingers. You felt a hot rush of hope that you got something right, that he was finally going to let you come. Your entire body surged towards the feeling, going so stiff that it made your trembling muscles ache. 

And there, right on the edge, he stopped. You didn’t have it within you to do anything other than cry, openly weeping at this point. If he were only teasing you it would be one thing, but he was purposefully working you right up to the edge and then abandoning you there. It was the feeling of being unable to sneeze amplified to a million, that torturous feeling of almost.  

“I’ll do anything, please,” you told him, your voice coming out broken.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t before?” Suguru asked. You opened your mouth to argue, only to realize that it didn’t matter. Nothing you said or did mattered, you were helpless to him. You had already surrendered everything else, the only thing you could do was obey and hope for his mercy.  

You understood. He didn’t want you to beg. He wanted you to obey. To be good for him without question. 

You could do that. 

Suguru pushed his fingers back into you, repeating the whole process of working you up and abandoning you again. And again. And then he added his mouth. There were several times in your life you’d been pushed to the absolute brink of sanity, and right then you were convinced that you were going to go mad. But you grit your teeth and endured it. You had to. This was your punishment, and Suguru would decide when to end your misery. 

You had to be good for him.  

Had you ever been this wet? Swollen too, all of your blood flowing dangerously hot between your legs. It was disgusting, your pussy was sloppy and red and he barely had to touch your clit at all to build you right up to that edge. And it was just as easy to let you fall, disappointed and unfulfilled and growing increasingly, painfully distraught from the denial. 

You beat your fists pathetically against the bed, hitting your head into the pillow like a madman. Air puffed out of your chest fast and hard enough to make your head spin, like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. 

Rather than continue the torture, Suguru grabbed your chin, dragging you out of your spiraling haze. His fingers were slick from being inside of you. You met his eyes through a veil of tears. “Have you had enough?” he asked, his voice wavering with a parody of pity. “I’m worried you’re going to hyperventilate.” 

You blinked fast, trying to gather the coherence to respond. “I can… I can take it,” you told him with a miserable sort of resolve, your voice thin and breathless. 

Suguru smiled. “Really? And if I said I intended to leave you like this, perhaps to go find a way to fix the mess you made?” 

The thought was enough to make you sob. His attention was torturously uncomfortable, but being completely denied any resolution, being left bound and soaking wet and electrified with unfulfilled need, you almost would have rathered he hit you. 

But you nodded, forcing yourself to accept it. Anything less would be to reject his authority over you, right? It would make you seem less loyal. “Anything,” you whispered.

“Ah, that look in your eyes is wonderful,” he cooed. “You mean it, don’t you?” 

You nodded insistently. “I love you,” you told him, speaking without thought, saying it because it was true. “I’ll do… I’ll do anything.”

“Okay, I’ll let you come,” Suguru said, releasing your face so his hand could wander back down between your legs. 

You made a weak noise, your body unconsciously jerking, straining towards him. 

It was pathetic, he barely had to do anything, simply brushing his flat fingers in light circles over your swollen clit. And that was enough. Fear flooded your insides alongside the same frantic, hot rush of pleasure. All of your muscles contracted in a mass of sore, shaking muscles and bestial desperation because you were afraid he would stop again, afraid that he would deny you and there would be no recourse other than pathetic acceptance.

“Please, please, I-I love you,” you plead, your voice whispery, rough and desperate, borderline incoherent.

And he didn’t stop. 

That wet, hot snap of release was one of the best things you had ever felt. You convulsed, chains clicking and leather chafing against your skin and his name spilling from your lips over and over. He worked you right through the orgasm. You were crying again, sobbing and shaking and sticky hot. It felt good. It felt like forgiveness. 

“Another?” Suguru asked. Your eyes had been shut, but now they opened to see his smile.

You just shook your head, lacking the capacity to respond. 

He didn’t wait, pushing three fingers into you while teasing your clit with his other hand. It forced your body through a surprisingly uncomfortable rubbery mixture of overstimulation and mindless need. It left you feeling like an elastic band being stretched and stretched. In spite of that feeling, a few solid, harsh pumps later and you were coming again, your pussy squeezing his fingers to keep them there while he worked you through it. There was very little drama to it, you were already wrung out. But it was good. Hot and wet and good. 

Suguru didn’t stop. You fought the restraints, wanting to move, to writhe, to get more comfortable, to take some control back because you needed a moment to collect yourself. 

“I really-” It was hard to speak. Hard to form the words. Hard to get them out. “Oh God, I—ah.”

Almost painfully sensitive, the rough pounding of his fingers against your g-spot started to register as too much. You fought the restraints, a different sort of panic setting in. To keep your body from rejecting the pleasure of his touch, Suguru doubled down against your clit, pressing a little harder. You had been starving, but now you were splitting full from the assault pleasure. 

“Too—oo much,” you got out through your teeth, although it probably didn’t seem like it was too much when your back was arching accordingly, your pussy clamping down around his relentless fingers, that coiling buildup of release reaching its apex. 

Your mouth opened in a silent scream, your fingers and toes clawing helplessly at the sheets as you came, practically choking on the hot feverish intensity of your orgasm. 

“No, it’s not,” Suguru told you. His fingers slowed at least, and then pulled out. It wasn’t much of a reprieve, he immediately shuffled down the bed so he could situate his head back between your thighs. 

You hissed, tensing up, your arms jerking against the restraints. Your clit was too sensitive for his tongue, he had to understand that. “You… You don’t… Have to,” you got out, your voice unsteady from how hard you were panting. “I don’t need-” 

“Don’t worry,” Suguru said sweetly. “I’m not doing this for you.”

The wet, warm patterns he drew on your clit with his tongue sent you into a sort of delirium. No matter how sensitive you thought you were, it was intoxicatingly good. He focused entirely on what made your hips try to jump, what made you moan and whine. When he slipped two fingers into your pussy at the same time, you felt ready to lose it entirely. You were falling apart. Splitting at the seams. You came with a harsh cry, Weeping at the fizzling heat of pleasure. 

Suguru didn’t stop. He just hummed and flattened his tongue and kept going, forcing you right past that sickening few seconds of sensory rejection and towards another orgasm. You could do it. You focused on that because even if you weren’t entirely sure you wanted more, you wanted to be good for him. How ungrateful would it be to not come when he was kind enough to eat you out? 

Covered in the sickly shine of sweat and shaking so uncontrollably that it felt like the world itself was trembling, you came again.  

When he was content you were done, Suguru stopped, pulling his fingers out with a final brush against your g-spot to make you whine, your body mindlessly writhing. He sat up, brushing back strands of sweaty black hair with the back of his hand. 

You wilted in place, closing your eyes to focus on your breathing while he messed with something else. It was hard to collect yourself, but you could already tell that you would be sore tomorrow. 

Hearing the shift of fabric, you opened your eyes to see Suguru remove his boxers. Despite your messily deteriorated state, the sight of his cock roused enough of your mind to focus. He was hard, the red-flushed head bobbed as he casually stroked himself which might have been for your benefit. Despite the sensory overload, your pussy tightened in anticipation of feeling him inside of you. If he fucked you and you did good enough to make him come, then you would be done. That was, at the very least, an end goal. One more thing you could endure for him, and then he would forgive you. 

Suguru looked down at you with a fond smile, an expression that seemed more than a little cruel when he was stroking his dick, when he knew fully well that you were painfully oversensitive and this would make it that much worse. 

“Should I make you beg?” he asked warmly, tapping the head against your painfully sensitive folds. You whimpered, squirming. You weren’t entirely sure you wanted this, and he probably knew that, but maybe that was the point. It didn’t matter, you wanted him, you wanted to be good for him, and that superseded every other thing you felt. 

“Please, Geto-sama,” you begged, defaulting to the formal address because you needed him to accept it, because he was your lord and master in every way except by name, because you adored him and worshiped him, and you needed him to understand that. “Fuck me, please. I’m yours.”

“So vulgar,” he said, sliding his cock up and down through the wet, sloppy mess he’d made of your pussy. “I wonder what happened to the sweet, innocent girl you used to be.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head. “Please.”

“I’m kidding,” Suguru told you, bracing one hand on your thigh to force your hips to curl while lining up his cock. “Aren’t you going to beg?”

“Please-”

“No, no. Look at me.”

You forced your eyes open, forced yourself to look up at him through tear-covered lashes. “Please, Geto-sama. Please, I’m yours.” 

It was nothing for him to push in. You were wet and eager and it felt good. The feeling of his cock popping past the initial barrier of muscle and driving deeper into your pussy was one of the most uniquely pleasurable sensations you had ever felt, no matter what the context. It gave you the sort of fullness nothing could replicate, physically grounded you in a way nothing else ever had. 

Since you were watching, you got to see his expression slacken into one of pleasure. Your pussy fluttered and squeezed, just making room for him. 

You gave up keeping your eyes open as he drove himself even deeper, throwing your head back to just take it, to ignore the discomfort of his cock grinding against what felt like raw nerves. Suguru braced his hands on your thighs as he rocked his hips, taking his time. 

“What does it feel like?” he asked. 

“Good,” you said quickly, your tongue feeling loose like you were drunk. “So… So good.” 

“I want to feel you come again,” he said. “You don’t mind, right?” 

Your eyes fluttered open in confusion, shutting when he suddenly snapped his hips forward. “I can’t,” you whined. “Not again.”  

“You can,” Suguru told you, grinding his cock as far into as he could, pressing as deep as possible, deep enough to make you whimper and writhe. Could he feel that? Could he feel the way you were shaking all the way down to your bones, feel the way your heart raced and fluttered and skipped? 

And then you heard it turn on. When you heard the buzzing, your brain was wildly scattered enough that you thought it was an electric toothbrush which made no sense whatsoever. When he pressed the vibrator directly to your clit, you yelped, trying to buck it off but only serving to grind yourself into his cock. 

A few little circles with the thing against your clit was all it took for you to choke, your body seizing up with another orgasm. You were acutely aware of the way it caused your cunt to squeeze and suck his cock, coating it in a fresh wave of arousal as he pulled out, making a horrible wet slap when he thrust back in. 

Suguru groaned, keeping the vibrator directly on your clit as he chose a slow, steady pace. 

“I can’t,” you tried to tell him, squirming and writhing with renewed vigor as your body started to tense up to come again. You couldn’t stop it and of course it felt good but it was too much, almost burning. You could handle it. If you came again it would hurt, especially coming with his cock grinding so persistently into your overly sensitive cunt. 

“I thought you were being good,” Suguru said, rewarding you with a heavy, harsh thrust that made you wail. And another. That sent you over the edge, whimpering and shaking and incoherent with the overwhelming influx of heat and tingling overstimulation. Like the brittle snap when breaking a glow stick, or taking a crisp, juicy bite of an apple. It should have been good, but all you could feel was the wet, helpless violation of something ruined. 

Suguru moaned openly, driving himself deep enough for his hips to slap your ass with each heavy thrust. Your head whipped from side to side, the only form of protest left to you. He kept moving the vibrator to make sure you didn’t get too accustomed to any one type of stimulation. It was torture. Horrible torture. You wouldn’t have thought coming could be so agonizing, and yet when you drew up for another sharp, shuddery orgasm you couldn’t recognize it as anything else. 

“Is this better or worse than before?” Suguru asked, his words stuttered with each hard thrust. 

“I don’t… I can’t…” You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t do anything except convulse and cry and come. Again. 

You didn’t understand. 

“You don’t know?” he asked, breathy yet amused. “You’ll have to—to tell me later.” 

The problem was that you had no place to think. You were too full. Suguru continued fucking you hard and steady. All you could hear was the slick slapping of wet skin and that infernal buzzing. There was so much weight behind every movement, like he was trying to batter his way into your womb. Each thrust was followed by a whimper or moan or cry. And the relentless vibrator against your clit. It hurt. It burned. 

“I don’t… don’t…” 

“You’re… not done,” Suguru told you, his voice heavy and breaking with exertion. “Come again.” 

You weren’t sure if you were actually crying anymore, or just sobbing and panting and so sweaty it felt like you were crying. You couldn't form any coherent words, or even incoherent rejections. So you obeyed, the taste of blood on your tongue and stars dotting your vision, your pussy burning and inner walls pulsing around his cock as you came again. Suguru groaned, his lovely lips parted and eyes closed. 

“One more,” he demanded. “Just… Just one… More.” That word was punctuated with a hard thrust and an especially cruel grind of the vibrator against your overstimulated clit. There was no point in saying no, or even believing it wasn’t possible. He knew more than you did. You didn’t know anything. 

With a miserable whine, you came again, although at this point it felt like there was just a long, helpless flow of overstimulation marked with waves of overbearing heat, and then your pussy tightened around his cock and it dragged cruelly against your g-spot, and that was all you could manage before you were tossed back into the mindless daze of agonizing excess.

“Even though it hurts, you’re…” He didn’t finish that breathless thought, although his amused smile went away when his hips suddenly stuttered and he fell forward, his forearm resting by your shoulder. 

Mercifully, Suguru shut the vibrator off, letting it fall somewhere to the side, bracing his other arm on the bed next to you as he sought his own end. Your arms and legs fell to the side, slack except for when your muscles spasmed or jerked. Every thrust added to the relentless cycle of too much, especially from this angle, you could feel the way your body worked itself up to come again, responding to his pleasure as if it were your own. 

“Geto-sama… Suguru please,” you begged and there was a chance he couldn’t make out that you were attempting to form actual words, but even with your sanity fraying at the edges from his torture, you wanted him to come. You wanted to know there was a reason for your complete unraveling, that you had a real, good purpose, some sort of justification to exist. 

Suguru forced your knees all the way up to your chest, pushing his cock as deep as possible as he came, working himself through it with shallow thrusts and these intoxicatingly sexy stuttered moans. Distantly, beyond the hellish, sweaty shell of your shaking body, you had the distinct thought that everything was worth it just to hear him moan like that. Just to be rewarded by his pleasure. Because you loved him. Because you belonged to him. Both of you were flushed hot and disturbingly slick with sweat and it hurt for him to be pushing so deep. Out of all the little cruelties he had subjected you to, the fact that you were unable to hold onto him like you wanted was one of the worst. 

When Suguru pulled out, that hurt too. Every part of your body hurt. He left you to fall bonelessly limp onto the bed, rolling around to lay next to you. 

In the relative quiet, your ears rang with a tinny discordance, paired with the engine roar of rushing blood. Your tongue was sandpaper in your mouth—little wonder, you had no idea how you had any liquid left in your body—and your limbs hurt from being stuck in the bound position for so long, but you couldn’t say you wanted to do anything to fix those things. As soon as the severity of those discomforts occurred to you, so were they carried away by the lapping tide of exhaustion. You felt like a sponge that had been squeezed dry. That’s probably what you looked like too.   

“I didn’t expect it to be so… Difficult to contain myself,” Suguru mused softly. You didn’t respond, marveling at his voice. It was very nice. So soothing and smooth. Perfect, just like every other part of him. “It’s wrong, but necessary. You never learned the right way to live, I have to guide you. Otherwise you could hurt yourself. You could hurt our family.” There was more conviction in those words, like he was trying to argue against a point you hadn’t made. 

Even if you were to be unbound, you wouldn’t dare close your legs. You couldn’t feel his cum slipping out, maybe you were too swollen. That would explain the painful heat. 

“I wish I didn’t have to make my point like this,” Suguru continued. “But I'll do whatever it takes for you to get it.” 

Mute confusion was the only thing you had left—you were barely aware enough to listen to what he was saying, let alone divine any meaning from the words. Your body hurt and you were thirsty and sweaty and tired. You didn’t think anything. You couldn’t do anything. You couldn’t say anything. It wasn’t even confusion, it was just pure exhaustion. 

“Ah, you’re a mess,” Suguru said, sitting up. You groaned in disapproval when he started messing with the straps around your thighs, taking them off. Without the harness's support, your legs dropped limp onto the bed. Still, you didn’t move. You couldn’t fathom moving. “Hey,” he chided, “don’t go to sleep.”

You grunted unhappily. 

“Will you open your eyes?” Suguru asked, touching your fever-hot cheek. After a second, you did, meeting his gaze with your own dazed, blank stare. His expression was tender, you thought. So kind, so sweet, so gentle. “I need you to listen to me now, hm?” 

You made a sound to show that you were listening, looking up at his beautiful face with a marveling sort of adoration. Suguru really was beautiful. It was little wonder so many people thought he was a holy man. He undid the chains keeping your hands and ankles connected, letting your arms flop lifelessly into the sweaty sheets.

“I forgive you,” Suguru told you, his eyes scanning your body slowly, taking in the sweat and the reddish flush and the twitching, trembling of your muscles with some kind of affection. “But, and I need you to remember this,” he continued, his eyes returned to yours, “next time you disobey me, it will be worse.”

Worse? You couldn’t imagine worse. The idea of worse made your eyes sting, panic threatening to crawl back out of the abyss of your exhaustion to send you into a fit of tears.

You blinked and swallowed against your dry throat. “I’ll be�� be good, I promise,” you said in a voice that was little more than a hoarse croak. 

“Shhh,” Suguru shushed softly, brushing your damp hair off of your sweaty forehead. “Don’t be scared. Everything I do, I do because I love you. You are precious to me, you know that, don’t you?”

Those words worked like ether sweet anesthesia through your head and you believed him, loved him, trusted him. He did this because he loved you, and because you needed to learn. Of course. That made sense even if nothing else did. 

[slimybeth69]

Touch: Part 5

Rating: explicit (smut, language)

Summary: So... it's after you and Din talk...

tags: Angst, slight dub-con (I never know bc I would always fuck Din?), being mad as fuck at Din, how could he?, Din/Mando being a dumb stupid idiot, reader also being a dumb stupid idiot. Idiots in LOVE, mutual pining, then normal smut things (without spoilers to the chapter, sorry) SPOILERS TO The Book of Boba Fett and The Mandalorian.

a/n: I've said it before and I'll say it again. If you read this on ao3, no you fucking didn't. It's still unbeta'd, but proofread!! I did that this time!! I also am re-working the story slightly because I CAN.

a/n pt2: I don't know shit about Star Wars/ The Mandalorian. I did however spend an un-Makerly amount of time learning for all of us. If you're not well versed in the lore or the history of Star Wars/ The Mandalorian-- that's okay! This is Star Wars/ Mando for Beginners. (Also stating this as a warning for anyone well versed in the universe and the lore-- shhhhhhhhhhhhhh. DON'T COME FOR ME)

<- Previous Chapter Series Masterlist

The Jedi Code was taught to you. Engraved in your mind.

Harmony, serenity, peace and knowledge. The force. The lightside.

All the bad things; chaos, emotion, passion, ignorance, death.

The darkside. You learned to not fear the darkside, but instead to embrace the force.

Even though you didn’t have the maker forsaken force inside of you! Not even a litte bit! None of 'the force' had found its way into you!

Luke Skywalker and Ahsoka Tano trained you as if you did!

Why!?

They spent so much time building you from the ground up! They made sure you had muscles and could run for long distances. The pair trained you how to fight with your hands!

Your hands know how to use a lightsaber! That's not an easy feat, and it takes a long time to learn that skill.

Oh, how long? A really long time!

Two years!

Two long years without any sign of that man in the tin can outfit! He's never called, he's never come to visit!

Two. Fucking. Years.

Sometimes you hated Din for leaving you here but you very quickly remember that you asked for this. 

Wanted this more than anything.

Foolish!

You wanted so badly to make sure the child was cared for; the child was older than you are!

Much, much older! Not even a baby at all, but a toddler where he comes from. A very special toddler. A force sensitive toddler.

Coming here was a mistake! The only thing you do here is clean up the messes Grogu- that's the child's Maker forsaken name. He has a name!

Grogu makes messes, so you clean them, and get hit with sticks as some sick and twisted form of 'training'! It feels like a joke when they told you to 'block your face and important organs' and then started to pummel you with the hardest, most fast moving sticks you've ever seen!

Not having any amount of the force inside of you really makes training with Jedi's incredibly difficult! Grogu seemed to be having a blast training with Skywalker.

They trained differently, so unfortunately the two of you didn't see each other much, and when you did, your time with him was cut short.

The two of you grew up here a little, together while separated.

Luke and Ahsoka claimed that you babied him and it would impeed his training, so they kept you apart as much as they seemed humane. You became so very depressed without the child and Din.

All alone even though you were surrounded by so many people.

The nights that you got to spend with Grogu were usually spent laying under the stars outside the Jedi temple, speaking fondly of Din.

Mostly for the child's sake, because you only wonder if he had completely forgotten about you.

The answer to that question came when Luke came to Grogu with a gift. 

“A gift?” You say with a curled lip.

Have you not just spent all of your time here; learning the way of the Jedi? That was an attachment and you– in your two years becoming a mock Jedi– were weary. The darkside. The emotion. The attachments.

This was scary.

Luke held the gift in his hands while he spoke. You're subtlety looking for your gift but... you don't see one. Only one parcel.

Oh.

“This gift would be the end of both of your Jedi training, should he keep it. Attachments may not be had, by anyone.” Luke looks between the both of you as you stand before him.

Why is he looking at you!? You might stay at this temple and learn all the ways of the Jedi and become the most powerful non-force sensitive Jedi the galaxy has ever seen!

“You both have come so far, you have so much potential. Both of you.” Luke’s eyes fall on you. “I’ve been surprised before, but this was a pleasant one. Watching you both learn so much. I hope he both makes the choice that’s best for you.” Luke looks to Grogu and hands him the package wrapped in brown paper.

“Why couldn’t I stay if he wanted to leave?” You ask Luke. 

“You come with the child. You leave with the child.” Luke explains simply. 

Maker-- alright. You can’t argue with that. You don't have much to offer besides cleaning up the kid's messes. They're probably tired of watching you perfect the lightsaber.

You're actually pretty good.

Grogu glances up at you just as you look down at him. You kneel on one knee so you can be closer to him, and watch as his six little clawed fingers struggle with the twine wrapped around it, but he uses the Force.

“Cheater.” You whisper to him.

The gift is beskar. A piece of... Mandlaorian armor for Grogu. 

“ Mando said he can’t put it on until he sees you–” 

“M-Mando’s here?” You interrupt accidentally. Your heart begins to pound in your chest at the thought that you might actually be able to see him right now.

Luke gives you a knowing look, as if you should know better, and shakes his head from side to side.

“Ahsoka sent him away. It would interfere with your training. If you wish to stay here and train, continue to learn the Jedi way. You both have come far, but it’s nowhere near close to done. Accepting this would end that training.”

It’s a warning.

The energy in the room is so intense. You can feel electricity in the air almost. Grogu is still standing beside you, looking down at his own piece of beskar.

What’s he going to do?

Luke reaches into his robe.

Everyone here has all these hidden pockets for things in their clothes. You have a couple hidden pockets now too . For things you may need to hide and pull out in moments just like this one day. You hope. It’s so cool when they do that.

Luke hands Grogu a lightsaber. Grogu’s own lightsaber. 

“You have a choice, young padawan.” His gravelly voice rakes across your brain. 

It's so quiet for so long. 

Grogu touches the lightsaber softly. Admiring it. He did the same thing with the armor. 

So long you waited. Understandably, this was a hard choice.

Grogo picks the armor.

Grogu and yourself are on a ship to a hangar where Din is waiting for a response. Your knees are complete mudslides right now. They are not supporting you and they have two years of Jedi training behind them. They’re strong. 

The nerves got to them, though--ate away all the tendons you ever had and dissolved the muscle down to nothing.

Din had been on your mind every single day for two years, and he didn't even ask if YOU wanted to come back. Only Grogu! You feel like a fool sitting next to the tiny green toddler.

Where are you supposed to go when Din tells you that he doesn't need your services anymore!?

The ramp of the ship drops down and there is a cloud of dust. And then there he is. Standing at the base of the ramp, like he had been waiting for you two. Or apparently just Grogu. Since he’s the one who got the gift.

It’s fine. You’re fine. No attachments. Perfect. You’re basically a Jedi. 

Grogu, who is so much faster, so, so much faster than you ever remember him being, flings himself at Din, and attaches himself around his neck.

You watch in amusement, wishing you could do the same thing but you’re partially a Jedi now, so you keep your composure and walk down the ramp slowly. Your mouth is so dry, you don't even attempt to swallow because you know it'll just end in you choking.

Din hugs the child tightly. Their embrace is so sweet. So kind. It makes you smile so hard your cheeks hurt.

It makes your heart pang as well.

They hug for a long time before Grogu looks back at you, pulling away from Din’s neck. Grogu extends a curved hand to you. You suddenly feel a gentle pressure around your waist, and are being dragged forward, against your will, feet stumbling beneath you. 

You point your finger at Grogu. “Hey!” You shout. The pressure around your waist stops and you’re set back down on your feet carefully. “I told you to knock that off!"

This is Grogu’s new, fun game. Picking you up and putting you where he wants you. He hasn’t stopped doing it since he learned how.

Dropped you a couple times in the beginning. 

Din chuckles from under the helmet. “I see your relationship has changed quite a bit.” His flat rasp is the same as you remember it.  "He's the one carrying you around now,"

“It’s basically still the same. I have to yell at him for doing things he shouldn’t.” You scowl at Grogu, who hides himself behind Din's helmet.

“It’s nice to see you," Din's modulated voice is even and quiet. As if he doesn't want to say it at all.

That’s it. No hug. Nothing. Not even a handshake.

You could hit him. For several seconds you think about doing it.

Now your fist– with two years of Jedi training– and it might actually hurt him. It might hurt him a lot, and you’d feel good about it. So good.

"It's nice to see you, too."

The anger is pumping in your veins as he leads you through the hanger behind him. You look at all the ships, and look for the Crest but you don’t see it anywhere. Eventually Din stops in front of a ship much larger than the Crest. Bigger guns on it too. 

Din just stands there and looks at you with his stupid helmet shining in the bright light of the hangar. You don’t know what to do. He dropped you off on Ossus where the Jedi temple was, and didn't give you a hug. Not a pat on the shoulders. Literally nothing.

"Keep the kid out of trouble. You'll hear from me soon."

That's all Din had said before he and Grogu went to say their goodbyes!

"It's a new ship." Din points to the giant hunk of metal he’s standing in front of. His beskar looks exactly the same. Maybe a new scrape or two. A ding here or there but you’re not even looking. Not even paying attention to him. Trying not to. 

“Okay...” You resort to using your favorite word.

Why, Maker? Why can’t the man in the helmet speak? Is his helmet on mute? Always so fucking quiet. Until you don’t want him to be, then he won’t shut up.

Din leads you inside. Shows you the sleeping quarters. There are two beds. One for each of you.

There is a separate room for the child.

The dining room is nice and everything else is so nice. So much nicer than the Razor Crest. Even the cockpit you have no idea how to use. 

You look all around the hull like it's very interesting. This is so awkward. Not what you expected when you were on your way here. It's not like you expected a welcome back party. Maybe a hug. Something. 

"What happened to the Crest?" You ask, trying to avoid looking at him.

"It was destroyed."

The sleeping quarters are different from the Razor Crest. The beds are close together, but separated and welded to the floor so there is no way to move them closer together.

The mats that are nestled into the metal frames are thicker and much more plush than the one you had slept on for so long before you were banished away to the Jedi temple.

It’s fine. You’re fine. No emotion. No attachments. It’s all fine. 

The small bag that holds your very few belongings stays packed in case he doesn't plan on you staying very long. He could very well be headed right back to Cantonica to drop you back off at the Canto Bight Casino!

The three of you eat dinner in silence.

Din says not one word to you and you don't try and strike up the conversations like you used to. Things feel so different now, like the two of you are complete strangers all over again.

Grogu has changed in ways that are hard to describe. He's still a baby in your eyes even though he's older than you and Din.

The two of you play together on the floor while Din or maybe you should call him Mando again, since you barely know this man after two whole years, does something in the cockpit.

Grogu warbles and you watch all the new, fun things he can do with the Force that aren’t moving you unwillingly. It's the first real fun the two of you are able to have since being dropped off at the temple. You missed being able to play with him. You still snuggle him at the protests of Luke and Ahsoka-- how could you not when he climbs into your lap and cuddles into your arms.

Like he knew you couldn’t resist. 

Grogu can put himself to sleep now which is incredible, and that means you have time to do whatever you want.

So you’re in your bed with your nice new sheets. They’re soft. Like the ones on the Crest.

It’s dark here, too.

Maker, what in the stars?

The sun shields in this ship are no joke! There's no light at all. If you have to go to the bathroom, it’s just blind wishing that you don’t break you toes, or bump into a wall and potentially crack your skull. 

It feels like you were completely forgotten about in those two years and now, in the dark silence of your shared sleeping quarters you just want to cry...

An emotion!? After two years of strict Jedi code training---

There is a ten thousand degree warmth on your upper arm in the void, and it scares you half out of the bed. Your tops of your feet and knees are on the cool metal of the ships floor, and you're leaning against the side of the bed-frame like you are praying to Maker.

“I was going to see if you were sleeping," Din's rasping sounds-- happy to talk to you?

You're unsure. Nothing else about the way he's spoken to you, or treated you at all makes you think he wants to talk to you.

"That's not how you find out if someone's asleep!" You bark at him angrily.

"You're awake though.” A flat, unimpressed response to your outburst.

Maker, if you had your own helmet with night vision, you’d use all your new fun Jedi fighting tricks on him. You sure would, because who is he!? Who does he think he is!?

After two years he can come back and just throttle you awake in the dark like before? Nope. Not this time. 

“You’re lucky I can’t see you right now.” You say over the pounding heart in your chest. “So lucky-- What do you care if I'm awake in the night?! Let me sleep!” You’re so cold with him, mirroring him perfectly minus the emotion. “I’m tired.” You lie to him. 

In the usual Din fashion, he remains quiet. He still had his hand on your arm, and it's not like you really made an attempt to pull it away because it’s hot like you remember.. Burning you, he's so warm.

Din is also so fucking quiet! Maker! Is he okay?

“Tired?” Din’s voice rasps in the dark. "Then why aren't you sleeping?"

You realize the metal man has no grip on you whatsoever. He was just touching you very, very gently, and you easily could have pulled away at any moment.

So you you tug your arm away and you climb back into bed and face the opposite direction from him. "I was trying to sleep when you come over here-- shaking me in the darkness!"

“You…” Din trails off in the dark. “Still don't know the meaning of shake?” He questions you like a dumb idiot. 

"Get away from me!" You almost shout it. "Just leave me alone!" You humph, and pull the sheets over your shoulder.

"Are you... mad at me?"

“Are you kidding me!?” You whisper at him. “I don’t know how you could leave me out there for two years, and I get nothing!?” You sit up in your bed now and talk blindly in the dark. “Nothing. No visit. No calls. Nothing.” You cross your arms over your chest. "No gift!"

Din stays silent- which was predicted- so you carry on.

“But you get Grogu a gift, which was very sweet. Very cute armor, he is going to look very cute it in.” You think of the child dressed in the armor and it's kind of amusing and slightly distracting.

“Are you done?” Din’s stupid modulated voice rings out in the dark after a minute of you imagining an armored Grogu.

It's so dark and you still don't really know where he is, so with your accusing index finger pointing in the direction he could be in, you almost shout, “No! I’m not done!”

You are in fact, not done.

“They treated me like I had the Force in me. Do you know how hard that is when you don’t have the fucking force in you!?” You exclaim in exasperation, still pointing at him.

You start to speak again into the blinding darkness when a warm hand very gingerly moves your accusatory pointing finger eight inches to your right. 

“I figured I should at least be getting pointed at, if you’re going scold me,” Din rasps.

You die inside and wonder how dumb you look in the dark. “Why did you even bring me back? Hm? Why not just send me right back to the casino? Or is that where we’re going next? Gonna just drop me off? You even gonna land first or just let me duck and roll?” You huff, officially done with your rant. 

“Are you don-” Din starts, but you cut him off. 

“Yes!" You snap at him, and then you huff one more time for good measure. You're so angry with him.

So much for all your Jedi no emotion training. 

“I have a gift for you.” Din says flatly through the modulator. 

Oh.

“Well it’s so dark in here, so how would I know that?” You snip at him, not sure you’re fully ready to forgive him. You roll your eyes now. 

“Would you still like it? Or are you too upset with me?” Din’s modulated rasp asks you, sounding annoyed.

Why does he have a right to be annoyed? He could have given you that gift the minute you step foot of that return ship that brought you back to him.

Why wait until the darkness!? Why!?

“Yes, I would.” You hold your cupped hand out into the dark and feel something cold and hard fall into it. “It would be nice if I could –” 

The brightest beam of light you’ve ever encountered shines directly into your eyes. It’s blinding.

You jump again, out of bed because what the fuck is that!?

Is this an attack!?

What even is that light? Where is it coming from?

Thankfully, you wrapped your hand around the thing Din dropped into your hand so you didn't fling it into the abyss to never be seen again before you ever even got to look at it!

“Why are you on the floor?” Din asks, as you hold your free hand to your chest. You blink up at him, having to shield your eyes. 

“Are you the light right now!?” You question him squinting your eyes in its brightness. "Are you the one blinding me!?"

“Yes." Din dims the light tremendously somehow from within his helmet and now, it’s easier on the eyes. Like a candle flame. "Was it to bright?"

“It was too bright! I don’t think I’ll ever see again.” You snip softly, resting on the floor and putting your elbows on the bed. 

You inspect the small pink crystal in your hand. It takes you a couple seconds to realize what it is.

“Is this a kyber crystal?” You look up at Din who is knelt down on the other side of your bed.

He nods in the now pale light that's much easier on the eyes. “I got it on my travels. I thought that if you knew how to use a lightsaber, I’d get one for you. Put this crystal in it.” 

Maker. What is happening? 

“You thought of me?” You didn’t mean to say it. Part of you is still mad. 

“Everyday .” Din’s awe and amazement voice is back. “Di- Did you not think about me?” Just as quickly as that sweet familiar tone had shown up, it's gone just as fast. Din can' believe that you didn't think of him during your time apart.

“I did.” You say quietly. “I thought you had forgotten me. Without the visits or calls or gift.” You do feel silly now because this really is a sweet gift.

The sweetest gift. More sweet than the notebook and the credits and anything else he's ever given you. The small pink crystal in your hand means so much to you. The fact that he got it for you, was thinking about you while you were gone. The fact that the meaning behind the gift is so big. You own lightsaber if you wanted one. Din would get one for you. Said it himself. Your heart is racing in your chest.

“Never . I’ve been waiting to see you. Been thinking of you. Looking at your doodles every night.” He turns the light off and takes the crystal from your still outstretched hand. 

“Hey! That’s mine.” You reach for it but he leaves you kneeling next to your bed like you are praying to Maker in the dark again.

“I’m going to give it back.” Din raps . “Do you want to get back in bed or are you content on the floor?” 

You’re blinking into the dark. Wondering how dumb you look now on the floor blinking into the void. You scramble up without assistance and crawl into bed, facing the same direction as before. Away from Din. 

Secretly, you’re hoping he’s sans beskar and crawls into bed beside you and lets you hold him like he did the nights before you left. With your arm around his waist, stealing his radiating heat from him while he sleeps. You’d mill kisses softly across his shoulders and you’d listen to him sigh and make sleep sounds in the darkness.

But that doesn’t happen. It’s so quiet. It’s so still for so long. You wonder if he’s crawled in his own bed and is fast asleep. What could this all mean? The gift? The cold welcome back after two years? Everything you did before you left? What did it mean and did you accidentally fall for a potential half man- half droid that’s never going to show you his face? 

The dark is still, so quiet and unmoving. You feel like you’re alone in the room. 

“C-can I touch? Or are you still too upset with me?” Din asks quietly, the rasp of his modulator is gone. His sweet deep voice is right in your ear. It doesn’t startle you because you’ve been waiting to hear him speak for so long. 

“No.” You snap. “You couldn’t come touch me for two years! I would have let you then, any time you came to visit, I would have but you-”

His lips on yours stop you. You almost try and push him off, but Maker. I

t feels so good. His warm, soft lips on yours after all this time. You both open your mouths slightly, and as tentatively as Din touched you for the first time two years ago, his tongue slips past your lips and into your mouth just as slowly.

It’s gone as soon as it appeared. 

“I tried.” He whispers against your open mouth. “I got turned away every time. So many times I tried to see you.” He’s speaking fast, like he’s trying to explain himself to you before you beat him off of you with something hard you’ve found in the dark. “ So many times, little one." 

The words melt over your tongue as he speaks them, almost as if they were your words.

Ahsoka and Luke never told you he came to visit. Not one time. 

“I tried. I never forgot about you. Too perfect. Too beautiful to forget..." ” His bare hands cup your face as you speak. “Never forget you. Everyday I look at your doodles. I look at you, and miss you."

You're breathing in the words he's speaking into your parted lip. He kisses you again softly. You feel the bed shift next to you and he’s crawling beside you.

“Do you dislike me again?”

Maker, Din somehow got warmer. He’s running a fever all the time and his body feels like the embers in the fire pit at the end of the night. 

“Again?” You whisper as he pulls your face down to the pillows with his. 

“You didn’t care for me much before the doodles.” Din kisses your lips again, gently as his hand slips from your cheek. “I didn’t think you’d let me.” You can feel his warm breath on your chin as he speaks. 

“Let you what?” 

“Touch. Watch. The first time.” His real unmodulated voice whispers to you. “I've missed touching. Watching."

A warmth hovers over your middle, you reach for it. Tt’s Din’s hand, hovering above your stomach, under the blankets, but over your clothes. 

“Touch me.” It almost doesn’t come out of your mouth because it’s so dry. But you croak it out and swallow hard as the word leaves your lips because you hope he does. You hope this isn't like the first night all over again where he makes you do it alone.

Din obliges and lets his hand drop, you feel the heat spreading out along your nightgown starting from where his hand rests on your lower stomach. It makes you inhale sharply. It’s such a familiar touch and you missed it so much. 

Din sighs and drags his hands gently and slowly up your stomach, the fabric bunching at his wrist as he does it.

He's lifting your nightgown. 

“Din,” You whisper as his palm cups one of your fleshy tits over the nightgown.

His rough, calloused hands were so gently, touching you so sweetly until your hand rests on his, you make him squeeze you. You make him because you need to know this is real and these soft gentle touches feel like a dream.

Din grips you now. He can feel your desperation in your hand on his. Squeezing and pulling and tugging at your flesh. 

“Fuck.” He moans softly into your shoulder where his head was resting. The fiery goodness from his forehead felt like it was melting you. “Perfect. Beautiful.” He says the word like he doesn’t want to. Like he’s been forcing them back but they’re breaking free from his vocal chords.

You can almost feel his heartbeat. Or maybe it’s yours.

You don’t know. 

It’s just obvious that this is what you want and you need him. Badly. However he’s willing to give himself to you or however he wants to take you, you don’t care. You’ve been waiting and thinking about this for two years. Your body reacts to his touch like you were built for him. Your pussy is leaking and throbbing already and he’s only touched you once. 

There's a new warmth, a wetness to these sensations now. Din’s wrapped his mouth around your clothed nipple and is sucking. Biting gently over the nightgown you have on. It sends shivers down your spine.

Words come flowing out of your mouth before you can even stop them. “I've waited so long for this.” You whimper quietly.

Your hips are rolling against the bed below you because everything just feel so good, everything is just so overwhelmingly pleasurable. Din’s hands and mouth on you, the heat he's passing along through his touch. 

“Touch. I wanna hear you moan.” He murmurs against your breast. He’s still biting and sucking it through the fabric like he’s too impatient to take off the nightgown. He just can’t wait any longer. 

“I need you to touch me.” You whine quietly. “Please.” You’re begging him. “Please, Din, I need to fee-” But he doesn’t make you beg long, his free hand slides between your legs and he sighs loudly against you. 

“”Fuck. Fuck. You're s-so wet. So fucking perfect.” Din bites your nipple a little harder now, but then he pulls way. “Let me lick. P-Please. I just wanted to watch but now I need to taste you.” He’s moving down between your legs as he talks to you. Then he stops.

“Okay. Okay. Please. Do it, please.” You’re already spreading your legs but he’s getting off the bed again. “Nononononono.” You whine, reaching blindly for him in the dark. You’re on the verge of tears. “Please don’t leave me again.” 

It’s so quiet. It’s like time stopped. 

“Din?” You whisper. “Did you leave?” 

“Where would I go?” He answers but he’s further away from you now. "It's my ship."

“Well you’re obviously not here– where you were!” You exclaim quietly. You hear him chuckle in the dark. 

“Come to my bed. I want to do something. New.” 

Oh Maker what could that mean? A new stun gun? Some weird thing he found in his travels?

Does he want to make you the lightsaber and put the focus crystal inside you? That’s where you draw the line.

“What does that mean?” You ask nervously, clutching the sheets to your chest as you stare into the void. “New?” 

“Come here. You said I could lick, yes? Let me.” Din’s voice in the dark makes you drop the blankets your clutching and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. “Come, little one. Let me lick you. Let me taste you.” His voice guides you to him and you start to crawl into his bed but he stops you. “Leg.” He says into the dark.

“Leg?” You ask, confused. Din reaches for you in the dark and taps your upper thigh. 

“Leg.” He says like he’s teaching you body parts. “Swing it up here over my head.” 

“What!?” You exclaim. “You want me to do what?!” 

“I want you to sit on my face.” Din’s smiling in the dark and you can hear it in his voice. 

“And you’re going to taste me like that?” You’re exasperated. You’ve never even heard of this. What does that mean, sit on his face. “I’m going to smother you!” 

“Then I’ll die a happy man. Get up here.” Now he’s impatient. Din’s been waiting for this just as long as you have.

You swing one leg over his head and straddle him, pressing both hands to the wall in front of you. The ship's metal is so cold on your clammy hands. You can feel him breathing against your inner thighs as you sit on your knees above him.

“ This is perfect.” Din whispers. You can only whimper quietly because you’re so nervous, you feel so exposed up here. “You want me to lick…” He leans up and gives the very top of your slit a quick teasing lick. “Here? Yes?” 

Your knees buckle because Din’s tongue is just as soft and just as warm as you remember and you do want him to lick there. You can’t find words for how badly you want him. All you can do is let out a breathy sound of consent. 

“Beautiful.” Din wraps his hands under your thighs and pulls you down onto his mouth, his tongue is ready. Eager. Waiting for you to be on him, for him to be inside your folds. “Just as I remember.” He whispers into your pussy, tasting that flavor he memorized before you left and thought of it often. “I touched myself, thinking of you. To your doodles. To your flavor.” Din takes the flat of his tongue and licks you from your opening all the way to your clit, slowly, he presses up against you so you feel him. 

He wants you to know he missed you. 

“ Maker, yes. ” It’s moaned softly as Din presses the flat of his tongue against your slit and lets you ride his mouth. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced. Why were you so scared? Being on top of him, this way, you were in control up here. “ Oh Din, yes.” You’re not holding back tonight. 

You’ve been waiting to do this. Dreaming about it at night and waking up in the morning having to give yourself some sort of pleasure. You slide one hand down into his thick, coarse hair, just enjoying the feeling of it between your fingers again. You hear Din moan from between your legs and his tongue moves against you faster. 

Your fingers tighten in Din’s hair as he holds you around the legs, you’re pinned down onto him. His tongue is lapping and exploring your folds. Licking at all the spots he remembers make you squirm. He memorized every inch of you before he left and he’s been thinking about you, keeping it fresh in his head for this moment so he can make you whimper and quiver like he used to.

Din is panting underneath you, he’s working for what you’re about to give him. His tongue was drifting between those big lazy circles that had you whimpering and begging him for more and tight fast spinning around your clit. That’s when his hands found your hips and started to move you on his face, his tongue flat, stroking your clit with each movement of your hips. 

“Please don’t stop.” Pushing yourself off the wall you’ve been leaning against, you hover over him now, rocking your hips on your own. You found a rhythm with Din’s help. He holds your hips tighter now–not messing with the rocking of your hips–feeling you roll yourself along his mouth. As he does that he pulls you down harder on his tongue. Your free hand finds his hair and you grip it tightly now in both fists and grind down against his flat, strong muscle. “ Oh fuck yes . Din, I’m so close.” You’re whimpering for him.

Din moans loudly from underneath you, his hands now moving to your ass. He gropes and spreads your cheeks. 

“M-moan again.” You stutter, your hips grinding harder and faster. The vibrations from Din’s moans will be enough. 

Din obliges happily and moans loudly again, over and over as your head falls back, hips never stopping their rocking motion on his tongue. 

“Oh, fuck–ing yes. Din, oh Maker!” You cry out. You don’t care if The Razor Crest is gone, you have those memories inside your head forever. You don’t have to hold back nearly as much here. You can let him know how fucking good he makes you feel. Your body is quivering as you grind against him. You can feel the prickles of his facial hair on your inner thighs and lips as you ride him.

Being on Din’s face like this was heaven. You can hear him noisily licking and sucking at the new wave of juices that are dripping from your entrance. As the warm ball of fiery goodness spreads through you, you start to shudder and tremble on top of him, his tongue never stops moving against your clit and then dipping inside of your hole to taste you as you leak out. Din laps at you until there’s nothing left. Sucking your lips into his mouth at the end to make sure he didn’t miss anything. He leaves you trembling above him for so long he has to tap your thigh again for you to swing It over his head. 

"Sorry." You pant. "That was good. I'd do that again." You go to stand off his bed and you feel him wrap his arms around your waist. 

"Don't go. Share the bed." He whispers up to you. "I waited for so long." 

"I waited too!" You exclaim as all of your anger and fear of being forgotten about returns. "I waited for just as long as you did! You sure didn't act like you missed me or waited for me. Not until the lights went off at least." You're storming to your own bed now. You move quickly, not wanting him to hear or see the tears in your eyes.

You've been keeping this in for a long time. Letting it bottle up until you can't keep it in anymore. And the fact that he confessed all those nice things just to be able to touch you.

Din doesn't say anything in the dark, letting you try and find you way back in the void. It makes you sadder that he isn't trying to comfort you. The tears come, quietly, thank Maker, as you get into your own bed and wrap yourself in the covers. It isn't until you let out a little weeping sound that you hear him shuffle and then your bed shifts under his weight. Din's pressing himself into you gently, wrapping his arm around your waist. 

"If you had reached for me, you could have felt my heart from under my beskar." He whispers in your ear. "I did miss you. I did wait for you." A small kiss along your jaw, "You didn't seem like you were happy to see me today." He sounds disappointed. "I thought you had forgotten about me. Maybe someone with a face and who didn't leave made you forget about me." Another small kiss in the same place. "I sat in the dark for so long, wondering if you were thinking of me. I had to come find out. I did't mean to scare you. Don't cry, little one. Please?" He's kissing your face gently. 

"I don't think anyone could ever make me forget about you." You whisper into the void.

tag list: @thereaperisabitch @pedrospookie @furiousmushroom @creepycorbeaux

I'm still so uncomfortable tagging people in my stories, so like I said, please tell me to fuck off if you want me to stop. My feelings won't be hurt (yes they will), and it's completely fine (I'm a big girl and can handle it).

[delicatebarness]

cry baby | chapter eighteen

Summary: "Can we talk?"

Warning: It's a Bucky and Cry Baby-only chapter.

Word Count: 791

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A/N: My heart. Now do you understand why this had to be its own chapter? Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: @buckys0whore | @thezombieprostitute | @lanabuckybarnes | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @softieekayy | @noonespecial90 | @hello-therree | @randomawesomeperson102 | @whoreforbarnes | @thejutvtsupport | @somnorvos | @cjand10 | @plasticbottleholder | @birdenthusiastez

For a moment, you hesitated, uncertainty gnawed at your mind as took in his demeanor and appearance. Yet, something compelled you to nod, stepping aside to grant him entry. 

Bucky stepped inside, his eyes boring into you as you closed the door and turned toward him.

“Why didn’t you tell me about him?” Bucky’s voice was quiet, his eyes searching for answers you weren’t sure how to give. 

His question hung in the air as you took a deep breath the tension in the room began to amplify as you met his gaze. “Why does it matter?” you counted, your voice laced with an unexpected defiance. 

“Because I care about you,” he replied, his voice filled with frustration and something more vulnerable. “You’re my…” he paused to sigh. “You’re my friend, and I had to find out this way? In the middle of a bar fight?” 

Running a hand through your hair, you tried to collect your thoughts. “I didn’t think it was a big deal, James. We were just… enjoying ourselves.” 

Bucky’s expression hardened, his jaw clenched as he stepped closer. “You didn’t think it was a big deal? You didn’t think it ‘mattered’ to tell me you have a boyfriend? “ he questioned as his body loomed over you. “Everyone else knew before me… Steve, Nat… Sam! Why was I the last to know?” 

“It wasn’t some big secret,” you sighed, a feeling of guilt surging within you. “They just found out over time.” 

“It’s me, though,” Bucky insisted, his voice edged with hurt. “I thought we were closer than this.” 

“Closer?” you echoed, your voice softening. “Why didn’t you tell me about Leah?” you asked, a hint of hurt now evident in your voice. 

“This isn’t about Leah,” he snapped, his voice rising. “It’s about you keeping things from me!”

His raised voice echoed off the walls, an oppressive weight filling the room. You flinched at the volume, his words crashing down on you. You took a step back, his presence feeling suffocating. 

“James, try to understand,” you pleaded, desperation crept into your tone. “It wasn’t…”

“Stop calling me James!” he roared, reverberating around the small apartment. Your words seemed only to stoke the flames of his anger. His chest heaved with each ragged breath.

You pushed back against his anger. “I’m sorry, Bucky,” you began, your voice becoming steadier by the word. “But you disappeared for weeks without a word, and again, you didn’t tell me about Leah, either!”

If you had blinked, you would have missed the flicker of guilt flashing across his face before it was replaced again by anger. “That’s not the same thing,” he snapped, his voice sharp.

“It IS the same thing,” you insisted, you weren’t backing down. “You shut me out, Bucky. You left that night and didn’t come back, and then you came back and everything was different.” 

Bucky’s jaw clenched, for a moment it looked like he was struggling to find a response. His fists balled at his sides. “I had my reasons,” he muttered. 

Your frustration boiled over, the emotions you had bottled up for so long now began erupting like a tsunami. “What reasons could you possibly have to justify any of this?” you demanded, your voice trembling with anger and hurt. 

But no explanation came, instead, he turned away from you, his shoulders sagging. For a moment, the apartment fell silent. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

His admission only fueled your emotions. “You don’t know?” you repeated. “After everything we’ve been through, you owe me more than…” 

Before you could finish your sentence, he closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a desperate, frantic kiss. One hand found its way to your waist the other, to your face. He pulled you closer to him as if he needed to erase the distance. 

For a moment, you were lost. The sensation of his lips against yours, the taste of him, your senses became overwhelmed. 

As the kiss deepened, you responded, your hands reaching up his chest, clenching his shirt in your fists, pulling him closer. But, the doubts lingered at the back of your mind. 

When you finally pulled away, your breath became ragged as you gasped, struggling to make sense of what had happened. His gaze met yours, searching for something, anything. You couldn’t find the words to express the emotions swirling inside you. 

His eyes filled with remorse, sighing heavily. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his eyes beginning to well. “I never meant to hurt you.” 

You nodded slightly. “I know,” you replied softly, the weight of the evening washing over you. “But you did.” 

There were no easy answers, no quick fixes to mend what was lost between you.

---

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[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Warrior's Wrath - Part 2

Source for pic

Word Count: 5994

Tags: Medieval Scotland AU; Highlander Kid; Blurry non-con; Angst without happy ending; Fluff and angst; have I mentioned ANGST? soft Kid; feral Kid; Blood and gore; Killer might have a crush on reader (didn’t notice I did this until I was editing); MDNI!!! 🔞

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: You and Kid, the fiercest worry of your village, get married and happiness is just within your reach. Until Blackbeard, the laird, comes to claim prima nocta and takes you. Somehow, you are able to placate Kid’s anger before you go, yet, when you return filled with marks and bruises, Kid can no longer be controlled.

Notes: Highlander Kid lives rent free in my head and I can’t help it. This one got away from me, though. I meant it to be around 5 or 6k words, it turned out to be almost 13k. Historical note, there’s no concrete historical evidence to support the existence of prima nocte, but this story was heavily inspired by Braveheart - God, I love this movie. I do hope you enjoy it! I’m so sorry for breaking your heart again. I thrive on angst! 

PS: Decided to compromise and split this into two parts but posted at the same time!

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane

MASTERLIST

|Part 1|

Kid slept through lunch and most of the afternoon and when he woke up, you had already instructed Killer to ask him for help with a very important task that needed his craftsman expertise, so he wouldn't observe you too closely again. 

Killer gave you a frown and a veiled judgmental look that you decided to ignore and, by the time they returned, you had dinner on the table. Kid's portion had a special ingredient in it. 

And it wasn't just love. 

He fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow and a soft sigh left your parted lips as you cleaned the table and applied more poultice to your wounds. They seemed less inflamed now. Their colour was a bit more faded and the swelling on most of them had gone down. 

You nodded as you prepared for bed. You could do this. 

-*-

You were woken by a wave of heat and pleasure. Something so strong that immediately pulled a moan from your open mouth. 

The room was dimly lit by the light of the crescent moon coming through the window and the small flame of the burning embers in the fireplace, but you could make out Kid’s fiery red hair between your parted thighs. Though you didn't need any sight to realise what he was doing.

His tongue licked and lapped at your lower lips, tasting, sucking nibbling. He was teasing you awake with the gentleness of his touch, purposely dragging his tongue around your clit. 

“Kid!” You huffed, eyes shutting hard as your fingers clenched the sheets. 

“We still haven't tried this bed out, lass. I don't know why I've been so tired, but I'm not postponing this anymore.” His calloused hand grabbed the back of your knee as he hoisted your leg over his shoulder. “The other one.” He commanded you as you silently obeyed and placed your other leg on top of him. 

The room was dark. He wouldn't notice the dark finger-shaped bruises around your hips. There was barely any light, he wouldn't notice the crust already coating the bite mark on your right thigh. You could scarcely see the orange of his eyes so there was no way he would notice the purple of the bruises on your buttocks. 

Right? 

Besides, you couldn't even think straight as he plunged two digits inside you and bullied your throbbing nub. His efforts now only aimed to get you off as you were already awake, all previous gentleness quickly forgotten. The pressure building in your core made your legs clench around his head and he groaned into you, the low vibrato of his voice adding another layer of pleasure, tightening the coil and making your back arch. 

The pain from the bruises on your back and the bites on your nape mingled with the waves of pleasure that overtook you almost without warning. 

“Mmph, Kid! I'm gonna-...” You didn't even finish your sentence as it turned into a litany of moans and mewls, thighs clenching and squeezing Kid's head, pulling him further into you as you rode out your high on his face. “Stop, enough, love.” You tapped his head lightly as your legs released him from your grasp, clit aching and throbbing, begging for rest. 

He emerged with a wicked grin on his face. “All tapped out, lass? This is just the beginning. I'm not done with ya.”

Your heart leapt and rejoiced at his words, but your body was so tired and sore that it begged for rest. You needed to stall him. 

“My love, let me just brew us some tea. I'm so tired that I need a little pick-me-up.” You kissed his forehead and swung your legs to the side to get up. You were naked - Kid's work - but quickly stirred the embers in the fireplace, adding some kindling and bringing it back to a roaring flame so you could heat some water. You planned to mix a bit of nightshade in Kid's tea. That would put him to sleep. 

Except you didn't notice how your husband silently followed you to the brightness of the fireplace - he was the fiercest warrior for a reason. 

As big as he was, he moved with the stealth of a stag, so you didn't hear him until his hand was on your arm, stilling your movements. Biting your lip you tried to suppress a hiss. He could see you clearly now. 

All of you. 

All of your bruises and marks and cuts. 

All of your shame. 

Your eyes searched for his, embarrassment and fear written all over your face. He gazed at you with a piercing scowl on his lips, orange orbs scrutinising every bit of skin, taking in the full extent of what the laird had done to you. 

To his wife! 

“Kid…”

“So ya weren't disgusted by me.” He grunted. “I thought ya just didn't want me anymore. But ya were just hiding this.” He dragged out the last word, his growl shifting the sound to something dangerous. 

“I…”

“That fucker.” The eerie calmness of his voice made all the hairs on your body bristle and brought tears to your eyes. This was what you wanted to avoid.

The tea, he needed the tea. 

“Let me just-...” He cut you and your movements off by grabbing your waist and laying you down on the deer pelt you had on the floor - you had put it there for cuddling. 

“Shut up, lass.” His voice was hoarse and pained. He forced you to lie back as his eyes ran over your body, taking in all the wounds, bites, scratches, cuts and bruises. There were so many. You knew. 

You lay still. Your eyes shut as you tried to keep your tears hidden inside. You never wanted to hide something like this from him, but you had to. 

“Did ya really think I wouldn't notice this?” You had never heard him speak so calmly. It was another stage of rage you had never encountered. And it was terrifying. 

“I hoped I could hide it from you.” The whisper that left your lips felt foreign and odd. And you still couldn't meet his gaze. 

“For how long? Ya were going to deny me for how long?”

Biting back a sob you shook your head and scrunched your shoulders. “How long it took.”

“That fucker hurt ya. Why? Ya fought back? If ya wanted to fight I was ready for it before he took ya! Ya didn't have to do it alone!” He emphasised his anger with a punch to the floor and you inhaled deeply. This type of anger you were familiar with. 

“It wasn't like that. He realised I wasn't a maiden anymore. Then he ripped my wedding dress and told me he would make me forget you.” Finally your eyes met Kid's as you smirked and a silent tear ran down the corner of your eye. “I told him there was no chance of it happening with his tiny dick.”

You saw as your husband's lips twitched, and his orange eyes brightened with the slightest hint of humour. Yet he didn't laugh. 

“So he did that.” He gestured to your body and you nodded solemnly. You had to find a way to drug him before he did something drastic. 

Except he just inhaled. A deep breath as he closed his eyes. You could almost feel his anger draining away from him so you didn't dare speak a word. 

When he opened his eyes, there was nothing but love in them. Kid lowered himself above your body and you felt his lips on yours, very softly, then they moved towards the bruise on your jaw. You let out a low hiss because of the pressure but he didn't say anything. Instead he continued, kissing every bruise on your neck, on your breasts, chest, belly, legs, thighs… 

Your husband worshipped your body like he had never done before. You knew he loved you deeply, and you loved him beyond anything rational, but he showed his love with coarse gestures, with brutish affection. Never like this.

Slowly you laced your arms around his neck, pulling him back to you just as you saw his fist clenching, knuckles turning white and veins protruding from his biceps. He was stuck on your thighs, where there were some of the worst bruises. 

“My love.” You brought him back to reality, pressing your lips firmly against his, noticing the lingering scent and taste of yourself in his mouth, not caring one bit. “It’s still me. I’m fine. Forget it, please forget it.”

Kid didn’t say anything. He pressed his knee against your legs and you parted them so he could slot himself there. He kept trailing kisses all over your body. Soft kisses. So, so soft. He was trying to caress you at the same time, but with only one arm he couldn’t find support to keep upright.

Grunting and cursing about his limitation, he sat down and used his arm to hoist you up so you could sit on his lap, one leg on each side. You used this leverage to grab his face with your hands, tracing your fingers through the scar on his face and kissing him gently. “Kid…” You didn’t quite know what you were about to say. Something to try and steer away his anger. 

Whatever it was, it was quickly set aside when he claimed your lips again. A kiss so sweet and so soft, so unlike anything you were used to, that it almost brought tears to your eyes. Clawing with your hands, you pulled his shirt over his head and aligned yourself with his hard dick.

His arm circled your back as his hand settled on your nape, deepening the kiss and he gave a gentle thrust, sheathing himself completely and swallowing your soft moan. You rocked your hips gently, following his slow pace. 

It was utterly different from all the times you had been together with him and yet, still as pleasurable as when he was using you brutally. You couldn’t explain why this heat coming from within you felt different, except that it just did. It built in soft waves, spreading slowly to your toes and making your head light. So much so that you had to bury your face in the crook of his neck, your fingers tangling themselves amidst red locks as faint moans escaped your lips, just to keep you tethered to reality. 

His head fell on your shoulder as well, lips kissing softly instead of biting angrily; his hand caressing you instead of pressing and bruising. He was treating you as if you were a delicate flower instead of the wild thistle he knew you were. 

And for all the old gods and the new, you didn’t even know you needed to be treated this gently until the tears started streaming down your face. Hot droplets, one or two at first, and then an unending torrent. You saw them fall on Kid’s shoulder, and you were sure he felt them because he stopped for a second before resuming his languid, soft thrusts. 

“It’s ya and me lass.” He whispered near your ear while his arm gripped you tighter. “Always ya and me. Always.” He punctuated each word with a harder thrust and the wave of pleasure that hit you with the last ‘always’ came unannounced, crashing over you like a raging tsunami, making you cry out his name as your whole body clenched around him, locking him in a desperate embrace.

He finished a few thrusts later and you remained locked together for a while. You don’t really remember falling asleep, you recall him softly cleaning you up and helping you to bed as you muttered softly: “It’s me and you Kid.”

And then darkness took over.

-*-

The dawn came too fast. Light seeped through the window lazily as the birds chirped their morning song, too close to your window, reminding you that it was time to get up and get ready for the day.

You felt happy. Your heart lighter than it had been since your wedding day. Last night you had made love with your husband. You loved the way he roughed you up, taking you hard and possessively, claiming you as his whenever and however he pleased.

But last night felt different. And it was healing in more ways than one.

Your hand reached for his side of the bed, searching for his body so you could claim some cuddles and kisses. Even if he protested a bit, you knew he was a softie for your affection. 

But the bed was cold and he was gone.

Gasping, you jolted upright, stifling a cry of pain as your body protested with the effort. Your eyes immediately went to the mantle, to the designated place of his axe, silently praying and begging all the gods for it to be there, resting idly against it. 

It wasn’t there. 

Nausea overtook you and you barely had time to find a bucket to vomit of bile that surged up from your stomach. You knew where he was.That was why he had been so gentle and so caring last night. 

He had gone to seek vengeance. 

-*-

After he put you to bed, Kid donned his kilt, a scowl on his lips as he regarded your spent, sleeping form. He could still recall the shape and indent of every bruise, every bite mark, every scrape and - that fucking fucker - every cut. 

There was no way he would let this pass.

Throughout the night you were gone, he had come to terms with what happened. Flanked by his best friends - Killer, Heat and Wire - they had drunk themselves into a stupor. He was willing to forgive that laird bastard for what he had done. 

Kid had promised you.

But now he was seeing red. After what he had seen, after the marks that useless arse had left on your body and your soul - your tears had broken Kid in two - he would never let that bastard live another day. 

With you tucked safely in bed, he pressed his lips to your forehead. You were the love of his life. He had never felt this way about anything or anyone. He had learned long ago that vulnerability was a weakness, something to be taken advantage of. 

Except with you.

With you he could be vulnerable, kind, gentle, warm… you would never judge. Only reciprocate.

“I love you forever.” He mumbled into your hair as his hand lingered with one last caress before he left your home.

He was going alone. With all the rage he felt, he knew he could take on the world if it stepped in his path. Except the one who did was Killer.

“Where ya going?” Killer asked, a soft chuckle letting Kid know he already knew the answer.

“Claim some blood. Wanna come with?” The growl that accompanied his statement was involuntary. 

“Been waiting for it. I saw that fucking bruise on her jaw. That fucker.” 

They both started to pace towards the dense forest. “Those were not the only ones. He scarred her all over. Fucking bastard, I’m gonna carve a grin on his fucking face.”

“We’ll help.” Heat and Wire said, emerging from the shadows.

Kid grinned maniacally. Fuck, the four of them would burn the world down.

Just for you.

-*-

As you left the house, looking frantically for Kid, hoping he was just sparring with Killer, you realised that all of the four warriors were gone. Your stomach churned again and you threw up some more behind a bush.

Your worst fears had come true. This was all your fault, you forgot to give him the tea.

Tears streamed down your face as your heart clenched in your chest. He would come to you alive, you knew that perfectly well, but he would never live down the murdering of a laird. He would be sentenced and executed. Hanged, most likely, beheaded if there was any justice left in this world.

But he would be torn from your arms. For eternity.

As you slumped to the floor, your wet eyes fixed on the battered path that came from the woods and led straight into the village, you heard him. A boisterous laugh, a thunderous cocky roar of victory. He’d done it.

-*-

Kid had gone straight to the laird’s quarters, leaving his men to handle whatever else came along. They were told to try and hold back on the killing, but they were free to do as they pleased. 

Fortunately for them, most of Blackbeard’s household hated his guts. They let them pass without bothering them. Only some of his personal guards gave them trouble. But Kid strode on. His eyes burned with rage, his hand clenched around the handle of his axe, which was calling for blood.

Kicking the door of his room down, Kid rejoiced from the startled yelp that came from the bed. The bastard had been in a deep slumber, but Kid wanted him wide awake for what was coming next.

“Lass, go away.” Your husband growled at the girl that was in bed with Blackbeard, a very young girl. And that only managed to fuel Kid’s rage.  A groggy Blackbeard tried to get up, but Kid drew a knife from his belt and threw it at him, hitting his nose with the hilt and eliciting another yelp. 

“Ya stay right there.”

With two long strides and while the laird was still clutching his nose in pain, Kid approached and, as soon as his enemy removed his hands from his face, he delivered a powerful punch to the same spot where the knife had hit, effectively making him lie back down. 

“I said, stay down, fucker.”

Kid snarled, his lips curling back, revealing his menacing canines. 

Blackbeard opened and closed his eyes between groans, as the punch from your husband had made him very dizzy, almost unconscious. A perfect stage for what came next. 

With dexterous fingers, Kid tied Blackbeard’s wrists together, threw them over his head, and secured them to the bedpost. He repeated the procedure with his legs, and then nodded in approval.

“Just like a fucking pig ready for slaughter. Ya fucking asshole.”

The laird blinked, his mouth opening and closing, revealing his many missing teeth and lending him a terrified look. Your husband leaned down, putting his face right next to Blackbeard’s bleeding nose. “Remember me?”

Blackbeard spat in Kid’s face, which only managed to make Kid's cackle more menacing. “I remember your wife very well. She squirmed a lot beneath me and-...”

Kid didn't let him finish as his forehead collided with Blackbeard’s mouth, knocking out a few more teeth. “Keep my wife's name out of ya filthy fucking mouth or I make this last way longer than it needs to. And ya won't like it.”

“Her name wasn't the only thing in my mouth.” He taunted and Kid cracked his knuckles against his leg. 

“The long way it is, then. Even better.” It was a good thing that Blackbeard was too busy blinking back tears from the sting of the headbutt, or he would've noticed the unhinged glint in Kid's eyes. 

It was also fortunate that he was spitting out teeth and blood for a good part of the minute because he missed seeing Kid lay out his knives, ready to exact his vengeance. In the slowest, most painful way possible. 

-*-

You got up on shaky legs, nausea still making you wobbly, but you strode with purpose towards your husband, your eyes wide as saucers and your mouth hanging open. 

You had seen him bloodied from fights and hunts before, but right now he was soaked in blood. Head to toe, there was barely an inch of skin that was clean. 

With each step you took, more tears fell from your eyes, and your heart clenched more tightly. Breath hitched in your throat as your limbs trembled and shook relentlessly. 

“You idiot, reckless, careless, moron!”

Killer whistled as he, Heat and Wire stepped out of your way. 

“Feckless gowk, you're always, always, thinking with your fist instead of your head, Kid! Why?” Your voice grew louder and louder, reaching a screech so high that would make a forest banshee squeak in fear. As soon as you reached him, he greeted you with his cocky smirk, tilting his head sideways and looking down at you with a bit of blood smeared near his lip. 

“Hello, lass. Miss me?”

You clenched your fists, relentless tears still dripping down your face, drenching you in sorrow. Pressing yourself against him, you punched his chest, over and over while your eyes tightened and sobs clawed at your throat. 

Somehow you still managed to speak between heaves and hiccups. 

“You promised me a lifetime! A lifetime entails an actual life! Why did you do this, Kid, why? Gods, why?” Your legs gave out but before you collapsed, his strong arm enveloped your waist, pulling you into a crushing embrace. 

You locked eyes with him and his were filled with tenderness. Something he reserved only for you. 

“Lass, for ya I'd make the whole world bleed. Over and over again until all the rivers ran red.”

His words hung around you, heavy and painful and you kept sobbing into his chest, your fingers clawing and clenching his blood-soaked shirt. 

“It's ya and me, love. No one in between.” He finished as you felt yourself drifting into unconsciousness. “Forever.”

-*-

You barely had a few hours with him before the sheriff came to take Kid away to the gaols. He didn't protest. You however did. 

Your screams were heard all over the Highlands. How it wasn't fair, how the laird was dreadful and terrible and how no one liked him or thought he was fit to lead. You even showed them most of your bruises. 

When none of that worked, you dropped to your knees and pleaded. You begged like never before. 

To no avail. 

They didn't even let you say goodbye to him properly. 

-*-

Kid had weeks to ponder his wrongdoings as he sat in jail. He was pondering all right, but they were not wrongdoings in his eyes. 

He thought about the way it felt as the tip of the knife sank into the laird’s thigh, right where you had a mark. He thought about the cut he made from Blackbeard’s lip to the exact place where the bruise on your jaw was. He also thought about the joy it gave him when he ripped the laird’s balls out with his bare hands. 

It was such a shame the bastard passed out from shock and blood loss immediately afterward. Such a shame. 

On other days, most of them, actually, Kid thought about you. Your scent, your touch, your lips, your hair, your smile… 

But mostly, your love. 

-*-

You tried everything. You spoke with the highest ranks in the clan - the ones who were deciding both Kid's fate and who ruled the land - but they quickly dismissed you. 

You spoke with the druid who had officiated your wedding but he couldn't do anything to help. When you managed to speak with the sheriff, he told you Kid had made a deal of his own. He would gladly pay the ultimate price and serve as an example: even if the laird was a total bastard, there could be no rebellion, much less from within the clan. 

But only if his friends were spared the repercussions. Killer, Heat and Wire wouldn't be charged. 

The sheriff accepted. 

-*-

They decided on a beheading. Which was much more humane than just leaving someone dangling from a noose. That was torture if the neck didn't snap right away. 

Kid was grateful for that. 

They were going to make an example out of him, but they were still thankful for the service he had provided. Blackbeard had been in charge for a short time but the damage had been extensive. Both to the vaults and to the towns and villages under his command. 

The sheriff confessed - over drinks Kid should have been denied but wasn’t - that he should be made a hero instead of a martyr. But life was just like that. ‘One minute you're here, the next you're dead.’

Kid tried to push his luck a bit more and asked to see you. 

The sheriff said he would see what could be done, but his smile and wink gave Kid hope. 

Kid just needed to make sure you were all right. He knew you would be mad at him, cursing him, condemning his soul to wander aimlessly with all the grudge you held against his actions, and he needed to apologise to you. 

Not for what he did, he would do it all over again - except, maybe, leave the laird  conscious for more time - but for what he put you through. And for breaking his promise. 

He would love you forever, that he would. Except his forever would be far shorter than yours. And perhaps that was something you couldn't forgive. 

-*-

When the sheriff came to get you so you could see Kid, you almost wept. You were knee-deep in your herb garden, trying to gather some peppermint and chamomile to brew a tea that might help keep food in your stomach, as you didn’t seem able to hold anything down these days.

You were mistaken, though. You thought he meant you could bring Kid home to you. But it was just so you could say goodbye. His execution was scheduled for the next day. 

Quincy and Killer had to help you through your shock as you tried to regain your breath. Even the sheriff seemed flustered by your fit. Yet how could you help it? When the love of your life was going to be executed?

After your friends forced you to drink some of that tea, you accompanied the sheriff to the gaols, dread making your stomach churn as the nausea returned tenfold. The smell of the gaols alone was enough to make anyone queasy. 

But soon enough the sheriff led you to a small room - not his cell - where Kid was waiting for you, his wrist shackled to the stone wall. As soon as his bright orange eyes fixed on yours, you became a sobbing mess. 

Closing the distance between you with a small sprint, you jumped and dangled from his neck as he took two steps back gaining enough leverage from the chain to hug you back. “Kid! Kid! Gods… oh, gods…” Burying your face in the crook of his neck, you sobbed and cried until your throat was raw and your tears had dried.

“There, there, lass. It’s okay. It’s okay.” He kept repeating those soothing words, his dry lips placing gentle kisses on your skin. You showed no signs of letting him go anytime soon, so he slumped against the wall and slid down, cradling you in his strong lap as your arms held on for dear life around his thick neck. 

After what felt like an eternity, you heard the soft thump of Kid’s head against the wall and you moved to look into his eyes. He looked pained and exhausted as he let out a deep sigh. 

“Forgive me, lass.” His mumble made his chest rumble and, instinctively, you pressed closer to him. “I broke our vows. I cannot give ya forever. But I’ll always love ya.”

Fresh tears ran down your face, gathering at your chin and dripping off. You didn’t even bother with cleaning your face as the tears would only carve new paths, like a river that keeps flowing, shaping the earth as it passes. 

“Will ya? Forgive me?” You should. You wanted to. But his parting would leave a chasm so big within you that you didn’t know if you could. Besides, there was something else he needed to know.

“I’m carrying a child in my womb.” You said softly. You had suspected it for a while, but now that your monthly cycle had fully stopped, you were sure. 

You felt him stiffen against you, the soft caresses of his hand against your back suddenly halting as he turned his head to look into your eyes. You indulged him by lifting your head, a strained smile pressed upon your lips as you realised, far too late now, that this information was bringing regret to his eyes.

If you had known sooner, perhaps you could have prevented this. He might’ve stayed home instead of seeking vengeance. He would still be with you tomorrow, and the day after, and the one after that. Because there would be a child to tend to as well. 

Except there was a slight problem.

With a trembling lip and shifting eyes, you grasped his dirty ragged shirt. “I don’t know… gods, Kid I don’t know if the child is…”

“It’s mine.” He roared. A primal growl escaping his lips as he swallowed a hard lump in his throat. “I know it’s mine. I know it, lass.”

You nodded at him, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks once more. “It’s yours.” Kid dipped his head as he took your lips into his and you couldn’t bear the thought that these moments were the last you would spend with your other half. “Kid, beg for clemency. Please, Kid. Beg for your life. Say you’ll repent for your sins. Admit you were wrong and ask for mercy. For me, for the child, for us! Please, Kid, please!”

He shook his head softly, seemingly out of strength to contradict you, and you continued. “Please! They hated the laird, they’ll forgive you if you plead enough! Even if you stay in jail for the rest of your life, please, love! Please!”

The words kept catching in your throat. Desperate, raw, filled with sorrow and grief. You didn’t know what else to do.

He simply kissed your forehead and sighed. “Lass, a warrior doesn’t beg. A warrior has his pride. I will not beg.” He seemed resigned to his fate now, you knew there was nothing else you could say that would swindle his will. He was a warrior through and through and you knew he would never live in shame. Even if it meant he had to be away from you.

“Please…” You begged one last time.

“Love, ya’ll stay away tomorrow. I don’t want ya at the beheading. I don’t want ya to remember me like that. Ya’ll stay home, feed, take care of our child. Raise him to be a strong, powerful warrior like his father. Stay away.” 

You shook your head as another fresh wave of sobs made your shoulder heave. “Say you’ll beg, Kid, please, for us…”

“Stay home, forgive me. Make me these promises, lass, so I can go in peace.” This unfamiliar softness in his voice only broke you more. You needed to forgive him so he could rest in the afterlife. You knew that. But you also knew that forgiving him meant you had to accept the fact that you would never see him again.

That he was lost forever.

And that was a terrifying thought.

Instead you pressed your lips against his, deepening the kiss, drawing him close, clawing at his body in desperation and grasping every bit of him, trying to imprint his mark upon yourself so you could forever remember the shape of his body against yours.

After an eternity you whispered: “Aye, Kid. I forgive you. I love you forever.”

“And always.” He finished in a mournful tone.

-*-

Quincy stayed with you. Killer wanted to be at your side, to help you through the pain, but you needed Kill to be there for Kid. You were still hoping he would beg for mercy. Deep down you knew he never would, but there was a very slight tingle of hope in the pit of your stomach and you almost didn’t dare give it any attention.

Your nausea was overwhelming and you were bedridden, barely eating and with no will to even open your eyes. 

Noon was the time of the execution. Ten minutes to go.

“He’ll beg. He has to beg.” You whispered to the wind, Quincy was holding your hand, feeding you tea from time to time, her face heavy with the loss. 

Five minutes…

“Quincy… he can’t leave me! He can’t!” The sobs and hiccups pulled more bile from your stomach, your limbs trembling relentlessly as your head throbbed and ached. 

Noon.

The bells didn’t ring and you hoped. Your breath hitched in your throat. They only rang the bells when the execution was over. The bells were silent.

The bells were silent.

Shallow breaths left your parted lips, your tears frozen in your eyelids as your hand crushed Quincy’s, who stood by you without making a sound. 

Then the relentless toll of the bells started. Each toll carved away a piece of your heart. Each chime brought a wave of agony up your chest. Each clang resounded deep in your soul, bringing flashes of the brief time you spent with Kid: his smiles, his frowns, his growls, his eyes… the light in his bright orange eyes which you would see no more.

The pain was unbearable.

With each heave you made, gasping for air that seemed to never reach your lungs, your heart broke another piece. With each wail that left your lips, a part of your soul left with it. Your heart had parted from this world.

And now you were left empty.

Forever.

-*-

“Push! Push, lass! A little harder, come on!” House instructed, her hands deep in your thighs, helping the baby be born.

You were spent. The last eight hours had been laborious, painful and filled with memories. You were physically drained and emotionally exhausted. 

“I can’t!” You whined, a fresh bout of tears leaving your eyes as you cursed and tried to push.

“Ya can! Ya know why?” House looked up from your thighs, a wicked smile spread upon her lips as she lifted her bloodied hands and clapped, droplets of blood flying around her. “I see a redhead!”

And with a hearty laugh you gave a final push, your strength renewed, your love rekindled.

“It’s a boy!” House exclaimed as the sweet sound of cries filled your ears.

-*-

The stone marker was very simple. Heat had carved a red flame upon the stone with Kid’s name on it. Every month you visited it, leaving a wreath of wildflowers on top of it. White heather and clovers, primroses and daisies, meadowsweet, and ropes of ivy to symbolise fidelity and eternity. 

An exact copy of the headdress you wore on the day of your wedding. You didn’t take any other man, though you didn’t make that promise to Kid, you couldn’t find enough strength in you to give yourself to another person. 

And Kid would be waiting for you in the afterlife. You were sure of it.

Your child was already one year old. A fiery redheaded boy, the spitting image of his fierce father. Every night you stared at him for the longest of times, seeing so much of Kid on your son, wishing your husband were by your side to share the joy.

He would have loved to carry the little one on his shoulders, to make him giggle, to spin him in the air… he would’ve been proud to train him in the ways of the warrior, to follow Kid’s footsteps.

He would’ve been proud.

“Your father was very brave. He gave his life to defend our honour. He’s watching us!” The tears were still a constant, but rarer now. The ache in your heart somewhat subsided, but was still there. Throbbing from time to time. A painful remembrance of what could have been.

With a sigh you placed the wreath on top of the stone and uttered the same words you uttered every time: “It’s you and me, Kid.”

Forever and always.

The End

[darklydeliciousdesires]

A Storm of Stars - Chapter Nine.

Good morning, my lovely audience! A fresh new chapter has arrived for you all to enjoy. Huge thanks to my regular and new commentors alike!

Summary: The Targaryen twin stars. Two sides of the same coin. Aemond and Aemella Targaryen, second children of King Viserys I and his queen, Alicent Hightower, had spent their entire lives almost as one, the lines blurring where one twin ended and the other began. What started as an inseparable sibling bond eventually bloomed into a deep, limitless love.

A day would come, though, when their love story - famed for generations to come - would be tested by the one who sought to tear them apart. When the storm of stars descended, nobody who had wronged them would come away unscathed. 

Words - 3,262

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added.

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Incest, mentions of child loss through miscarriage. This chapter contains violence against a woman, plus the blended canon scene of the battle of Rook's Rest. Minors DNI.

Previous Chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight

To some, one forest was the same as any other, identical in its thick of trees and low-lying clusters of shrubs. To a person with an educated eye within the field of botany, though, the subtle differences were clear. 

All along the narrow road they took, Aemella was able to view the kinds of plants she had only seen sketches of before within the pages of her education books, remembering back to many a lesson with Gileda where she had first learned of them. The Cerseirellus flower, for example, was native to the Westerlands, the shortened name of Cersei a popular choice for baby girls, as she had learned.  

Brilliant red petals accentuated the beauty of the bloom, growing hardily beneath the thick canopy of trees, not to be deterred by the presence of the mighty evergreens reaching tall towards the sun. Among them, bluebells filled the forest floor, a sea of purple-blue and red decorating the thick carpet of lush green.  

“Princess, look aside here,” Veron spoke, pointing to his right. “Midnight Foxgloves. They were my mother’s favourite flower.” 

Those could be found anywhere, and much like the former Lady Greyjoy, they were Aemella’s favourite, too. They were also the ones her husband would arrange to be brought to her from where they grew abundantly in the gardens, having a servant fill a vase to place upon her dressing table every few days.  

Her smile was of sad longing. “Aemond would always have those sent to our quarters.”  

Immediately, Veron felt his insides tighten, wincing a little. “I am sorry, princess. I did not realise, and now I have caused you upset with no intention to do so.” 

“No, no,” she insisted, reaching to grasp his forearm softly. “You were not to know, my friend.” By that point, Veron Greyjoy truly was her friend, her only confidant in her new life, a man whom only knowing for twelve days she knew could be trusted implicitly. His kind of decency and good nature was nigh on impossible to be masqueraded.  

He was also the only one who took the slightest bit of interest in her, too. Had you asked Dalton Greyjoy his soon-to-be wife’s favourite colour, food or flower, he would not have had the faintest idea. Veron, however, would have instantly been able to answer blue, venison with roasted vegetables, and now, Midnight Foxgloves. 

With his usual concerned sympathy tracing his handsome face, Veron nodded, his smile thin. “You must miss him awfully.” 

Gods, awfully simply did not lend to the pain inside, forced into a mere shadowed existence without her darling love. Reaching into her dress pocket, she removed her beeswax balm, noting she was running low as she dotted a small amount to her lips.  

“I do. I confess to be lost without him.” Lifting her chin, she took a deep, fortifying breath. “I must be strong, though, in all which I now face.”  

Such tenacity was very in keeping with her Targaryen blood, he thought. “Your strength is to be admired, princess. I am unsure I could remain so determined, should I be in your situation.” 

If only he could see her on the inside, where the fibres of her soul rapidly unknitted themselves one by one in Aemond’s absence from her life. “You are kind, Veron. I do not know how well I would have fared, should you not have been as lovely to me as you have been.”  

His eyes flitted ahead, towards the front of the large group they rode roughly a third back within, viewing his brother with slightly narrowed eyes. “Not all Greyjoy’s are monsters.”  

“Tell me,” she asked softly, “has he always behaved so cruelly?” 

The young man winced slightly, pausing in his reply. “Yes. He was my chief tormentor throughout our childhood, teasing me mercilessly for my lack of height, my slight build, my apparent unease upon the ocean. I suffered greatly from seasickness, which naturally does not go hand in hand with the ethos of my house. Chasers of the wave, worshipers of the Drowned God; such lends no place for a short, gawky, odd-looking boy emptying the contents of his stomach over the side of a galleon.” 

His words were delivered with a shade of bashfulness, his cheeks colouring a little to have admitted his weakness to one as strong as a dragon riding princess. He had no clue that his candour only enamoured him to her more. Veron was far from such now, too, grown into a well-built, fine looking young man. The gawky boy was long behind him, yet his elder brother still sought to treat him as if he were. 

“My husband was often the subject of his elder brother’s cruelty, too. Tis’ no shame, Veron. The elder sibling, they lamentably seek to remind the younger of their perceived place, should they favour such castigation. Aegon continues to partake of his cruelty to this day, no matter how much it serves against his best interests.”  

Her elder brother had cut off his nose to spite his face, for Aemella knew, deep in her heart, that whatever Aemond was being subjected to, he would find a way out of it if he at all could. She’d felt it over the last few days, a renewed sense of hope and purpose within him, her twin not quite as dejected as he had been at the beginning of their separation.  

In turn, a staunch refusal to resign herself to her fate was all that she had, no matter how hopeless it seemed at times. It might still be, she had to remember, but how she prayed that it wouldn’t be.  

They rode the entire day, Dalton keen to move as far north as possible until darkness descended upon them, finding an inn capable of housing them all for the night. Most of the ship’s crew took the innkeeper's barn, others lucky enough to be given a room.  

Aemella, as she soon found, would have fared better in the barn.  

“Your moonsblood surely has finished now, Aemella?” Dalton spoke after she had reluctantly slipped into the bed they were to share, Dalton turning to his side to let a hand smooth over her curves.  

Bile instantly rose in her throat. Swallowing hard, she tensed, recoiling from his touch. “I do not feel it appropriate for us to become acquainted in such a way prior to our betrothal. It is not proper, Dalton.” 

He snorted, placing his hand back upon her breast through her nightdress, squeezing. “Do not bleat such rubbish, girl,” he chided, moving closer to her, lips kissing her shoulder. “I bet your brother was sticking his cock in you for moons upon moons prior to your wedding.”  

“Stop it,” she gritted, her body stiffening further. “You will not speak of him in such a way.” 

Gripping her jaw, he turned her head to face him. “Why? Tis’ the truth, is it not? Tell me, Aemella. Tis’ quite the perverse thing, letting your own twin pound you into the bed night after night. By that token, you should be filthy as a whore.” Moving atop her, he leaned to her breast, biting her nipple, grinding his hardened manhood against her hip. “Tell me what else you enjoy, and I shall please you.” 

Feeling panicked, she pushed against him, Dalton taking her hands in his, closing a grip around her wrists. “I tire of your frigid disposition. You are almost my wife, and if I want to fuck you, I will fucking fuck you, so hard that you will forget all about Aemond fucking Targaryen.” 

She needed a plan, and rapidly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something glint, the hilt of his dagger lying unsheathed upon the bedside table. “No, no, Dalton,” she began, setting her voice to a silky purr. “You misunderstand me. I push against you not to fend you off, but to show you what I enjoy.” 

The way she looked at him from beneath her lashes had his grip slackening in an instant, groaning as she began to trail her nails over his wide, hairy chest. “Turn onto your back. Let me show you how a princess rides a cock.” 

He flipped faster than a dolphin upon a wave, Aemella moving astride him. His body felt so different to Aemond’s. Thick and bulky, overly hairy, and gods, he did not wash nearly as often as he should have. She had to seduce him, though, send him mindless, so he wouldn’t see it coming.  

“There, my fierce commander of the seas,” she whispered, leaning to place a kiss upon his throat. “You lie back and enjoy yourself.” 

A filthy chuckle rumbled his throat, making himself comfortable. “I knew you could not resist me forever, my little silver haired nymph. You will be gasping and crying when I bounce you on my cock, fill you with my seed, breed some fine, Iron Born sons into your belly.”  

She almost wretched against his neck, gritting her teeth, steeling herself. “Shhhh.” she cooed, placing a finger to his lips, having him suck it. Gods, his breath could have ripped the paint from a canvas. Pressing her lips to his neck, she peppered kisses downwards slowly, her fingers running in trails over his chest, circling his nipples until they peaked stiffly.  

It made her feel sick to do it, but she lowered herself against his cock, gyrating against the solid mass alluringly, watching his head tip back as he groaned gravelly. 

“Yes, my lord,” she whispered, “I shall be on your cock soon, soaking it with my pretty little cunt.”  

Her words had him in a daze, coupled with the rhythmic roll of her hips against him, Dalton feeling like he was adrift from himself entirely. No wonder Aemond One Eye had been reluctant to give her up. If she could bewitch a man like this without him even being inside her...  

The trail of kisses moved lower, Aemella keeping a sharp eye upon him, watching his own eyes roll into the back of his head, lids fluttering shut, her hand beginning to snake down while her other reached for the dagger. Gripping the hilt, she brought it to his throat just as his eyes opened again, the blade catching him, Dalton quick enough to grasp her wrist. 

Oh, no.  

“You duplicitous bitch!” he roared, gripping her throat, overpowering her swiftly as he slammed her other hand off the side of the bed, forcing her release of the weapon that has almost been plunged into his neck. “You dare attack me, you little fucking cunt of a whore?”  

Moving atop her, both hands wrapped around her neck, beginning to throttle her, her fear surging like wildfire. No, no! Her panic pulsed so strongly that back in Kings Landing, her true husband awoke, sitting bolt upright in their bed, feeling her fear rip through him like a razor’s edge.  

There was nothing he could do to save her, though, Aemella realising her only salvation was herself, Dalton beginning to lay hard punches into her face. Bringing her leg up to kick him in the balls, her nemesis folded, grasping his aching crotch. With all her might, she gripped the wrist holding her throat, wrenching it away. He surged forward again, but before he could grip at her delicate neck, her teeth locked onto his cheek in a savage bite. 

He roared in agony, Aemella tasting copper against her tongue as she punched him in the stomach, pushing and punching him in her desperate attempt to escape. Releasing her teeth, she spat a mouthful of sanguine and spit at him, ripping her nails down his face before tearing a path from the bed, the door in her sights. 

He threw himself towards her, grasping her hair and arm, running her against the opposite wall. “If you think the beatings I have given thus far were restrained, then sweetheart, you know nothing of pain.” He smashed her face against the cold stone of the wall, the skin over her cheekbone splitting, screaming for help as she struggled against him. 

Throwing her down to the floor, he kicked her in the ribs, Aemella curling into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest to protect herself. More so, it was to protect the tiny life growing inside of her, Dalton kicking her legs, her back, stomping upon her thighs until the door suddenly burst open, the innkeeper running in, shortly followed by his brother. 

“Sir! Unhand the lady this moment!” 

“She’s my wife!” he roared, kicking her helpless form once again. “I do with her as I please, and I please to beat the bitch!” 

“You will not cause this commotion within my walls; make no mistake I shall not have it!” While the innkeeper pushed at him, Veron managed to pull Aemella off the floor, lifting the sack carrying her belongings too.  

“This is a travesty, brother. You may punish me all you wish for it come to morning, but on this night, I will not allow you to hurt her further.” Turning, he carried her from the room, the princess shaking in his arms. The look she gave to Dalton over his brother’s shoulder was one of cold, hard defiance, though. “Tis’ over, princess. I will not allow you to come to this harm.”  

In a world where she could barely predict the machinations of his sibling, she could at least count on the security of Veron’s devotion to her safety. His friendship would never be forgotten, not even after she had freed herself from this predicament. For she swore right then as she cried, trembling and bleeding, that free herself from it she would.  

Aemella Targaryen was nobody's victim.  

While she was taken to Veron’s room to be cared for, Aemond could barely rest for feeling pain and horror flooding her, pacing before his bed, having to settle himself with a few large measures of rum before he could attain sleep. He truly needed to be well-rested too, a raven arriving to the Red Keep earlier that day to inform the king of the van’s imminent arrival upon Rook’s Rest, Aemond to fly up there aboard Vhagar come the following morning.  

He saw nobody and was handed no escort to Vhagar, but took one in the form of a young squire to ferry the horse he rode back once more, approaching his ancient beast as she dozed upon her preferred mossy ground.  

Reaching for her, his hand stroked her face, her huge eyes opening as she made warm noises of greeting in her throat. “Māzigon va, uēpa riñnykeā. Naejot īlva ērinnon.”  

Indeed, he and his precious old lady would surely fly to victory, for there was not a dragon in the realm capable of defeating them. Whatever the fight happened to be. He arrived ahead of time, in the wilds of bracken growing within a vast clearing to the south of Rook’s Rest, lying in wait. That was, until soaring above, a golden dragon caught his eye. 

Aegon? 

For the love of the gods. “Mittys!” he cursed, telling Vhagar to wait when she lifted her head. Crashing down again, she obeyed, until the moment her rider gave his word for her to take to the air and join the fight. 

Once above the battlefield, she surged forward, Aemond seeing his opportunity clearly, Sunfyre and Meleys locked in attack. Sneering, he witnessed the king uneasy in the saddle, wondering how many goblets of wine it had taken for his balls to grow enough in order to participate in the battle.  

Their conflict offered him the opportunity he’d hoped to gain, joining the war effort with such carefree acceptance of his brother’s decree. He could burn the princess from the sky and take with her the man who had inflicted every single ounce of his suffering. Only a fool with no pride, no spine and no conviction would ever pass up such a chance. 

The king would be collateral. Just as he’d viewed Aemella in his disgusting ploy to harm the brother whom he so envied. If there was ever a chance to reverse the hand of fate, it danced before Aemond right at that moment. He closed his eye momentarily, and there he saw her face. His course, it was decided.  

“Dracarys!” 

Vhagar breathed forth a decimating inferno, both dragons before her hit in the gargantuan blaze, Sunfyre the first to tailspin into descent, his wings alight. Looking below, he saw the ground break into flame, a sneer curling his lip. Triumph ignited his heart, the path he had been set upon now forked off, finally leading him back to his love. 

“I warned you not to make an enemy of me, brother.”  

But what had happened to the Red Queen and her rider? Turning his head, he spotted them upon the skyline, the crimson dragon surging towards him, miraculously gone unscathed. Not for long. The dragons flew head-to-head, this time, Vhagar reaching to grasp onto Meleys, her talons closing around the smaller dragon in an iron-forged grip, blasting her with a ball of fire.  

They spun through the air, Rhaenys feeling the heat of the flames scalding her skin, fighting to pull her dragon free. For the queen who never was, though, it was her final stand aboard her beloved old girl, Meleys trying in vain to fight back with her own blaze.  

Suddenly, the grip upon her beast broke contact, Vhagar swirling to crash land upon the ground before taking off again, Rhaenys flying higher once more, assuming the gods to be on her side as they ascended. She flew over the battlefield, coming up over the crest of Rooks Rest, when like a harbinger of doom, Vhagar appeared, her jaws closing around her beloved Meleys’s neck.  

The sickening crunch of shattered vertebrae filled her ears, her dragon squealing in agony, the light fading from her beautiful eyes as rapidly, they began falling.  

All that flitted through Rhaenys’s mind in her last moments was a silent prayer to the gods of gratitude, that at least she and her treasured Meleys would be received together, crashing to the ground and exploding into wildfire. 

Aemond looked down from the sky with quiet triumph, his mission accomplished, flying then to the first dragon-erupted fire, landing Vhagar and proceeding on foot. All around, the spoils of war littered the ground, men charred, torn apart, horses lying lifeless as smaller fires dotted the landscape like beacons.  

Moving through the thick of the trees, he approached the smouldering mass of what was left of Sunfyre and his brother, sword drawn. When he took in the state of the severely burned dragon, his gravely injured brother lying beside the head of the great, golden beast, he moved to sheathe his sword once more. The job, it seemed, was done. 

“Aemond!” 

Turning, he was approached by Ser Criston, Aemond looking back upon the flaming heap, crouching to where Aegon’s dagger lay upon the floor.  

“Where is his grace?” the knight questioned. Picking up the dagger, he pointed it ahead, his face passive. Not one drop of emotion flickered through him. While Aemond stood, Criston approached, dropping to his knees in despair to witness the stare of his liege, wondering truly if the king was alive at all.  

“Where are you going?” he asked, turning to see Aemond pause in his path away from the scene. 

Turning, he tucked the dagger into his baldric, giving the answer Criston likely knew was coming. “To find my wife.”  

A/N - Now, did you enjoy what you just read? Please remember, this is not Instagram. Clicking that heart does little, but a comment? Your author will be rewarded. A comment and reblog? Your author is throwing roses at your feet! It takes less time to do this than it did for you to read the chapter, too. Please, be kind and help support the fandom! :) 

Next Chapter

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 30: Blood

Joel and Tommy run into trouble on patrol. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-29 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. Plot points from TLOU2. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 7.5k

A/N: Hi y’all, I’m stashing this whole chapter below a jump because it’s been brought to my attention that the major event of this chapter is less common knowledge and more of a spoiler than I really realized it was. There is a major plot point for TLOU2 below. I’m sorry I didn’t tag the whole fic that way (going back to update that now) and I apologize if this spoiled things for people who were trying to go in blind. This is the first chapter with any big overlap and if you want to bow out now, I totally understand. My DMs are open if you want to know more without full spoilers and if there’s a way to keep reading without knowing the plot of TLOU2.

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“Dina kissed me.” 

“What!” You yelped and Ellie’s eyes went wide before she clamped a hand over your mouth. 

“Shhhh!” She looked around, her breath rising in front of her. But the only people out right now were inside the stable, a good 50 feet behind you and far enough away that you doubted any of them heard you, even if you were loud. “Jesus, Bambi…” 

She released your mouth and you tried not to giggle. 

“Sorry,” you whispered. “Good for you, kiddo! Told you not to count the girl out because she also fucks men…” 

“There’s no way she meant it,” Ellie rolled her eyes. “Get real.” 

“Why not?” You asked, brows raised. “Why shouldn’t she mean it?” 

“Because she’s Dina,” Ellie said, as though that explained everything. You just looked at her and she rolled her eyes again. “She was just trying to stir shit up because her and Jesse split up…” 

“Uh huh.” 

“And I was convenient,” she finished. “That’s it, that’s all it was…” 

“And you know this because you asked her, I’m sure.” 

“Fuck off,” she snapped. “Look, I didn’t drag you out here to figure that shit out…” 

“You sure about that?” 

“I dragged you out here,” she said, ignoring you, “to try and figure out what the fuck I’m supposed to do now.” 

“Kiss her again,” you shrugged. “That’s what I’d do…” 

“I’m being serious!” She hissed at you. “I have to go on patrol with her in like half an hour, what the fuck am I supposed to do?” 

You sighed and smiled a little, putting your hands in the pockets of the coat Joel had given back to you that morning. He said he hadn’t been wearing it but it had to have been hanging close enough to things he did wear and it smelled a bit like him. 

“First, you need to calm down,” you said gently. She looked like she was going to snap at you but you silenced her with a look. “I know it’s hard but regardless of how you want this to turn out, try not to be in your own head about it, OK? She’s still your friend and I’m guessing you want her to stay your friend, right?” 

“Duh.” 

“So eloquent,” you said and she rolled her eyes. “Look, you have two options. You can pretend it never happened and see if she brings it up or you can be up front about it and ask her.” 

“Is there a way to bring it up without looking like a desperate fucking loser?” She asked, brows raised. 

You shrugged. 

“Tough line to walk but I think you’ve got it in you.” 

“Jesus…” 

“Ellie,” you took her shoulders and made her actually face you. “It will be OK. Might be awkward for a bit but it’s not the end of the world. I promise. You can talk to her. She’s your friend for a reason and it’s because you’re kind and you’re smart and you’re funny. Even without the help of Will Livingston. None of that shit changes just because you kissed. Alright?” 

“Yeah,” she said, dropping her head to your shoulder with a heavy sigh. You put your arms around her and gave her a little squeeze but when she pulled back from you, her eyes were narrowed. “You’re in a weirdly good mood.” 

You frowned. 

“No I’m not.” 

“Uh yeah, you are,” she said, stepping back and looking you up and down as though she she were inspecting you. You just raised your eyebrows at her, expectant, when her mouth dropped open for a moment before she shifting to a shit eating grin. 

“Ellie…” 

“You fucked Joel!” 

“We need to have another conversation about the fact that what happens between my legs is none of your business,” you muttered, turning her around to head back toward the stable. 

“No we don’t,” she said. “This is great, you two have been so depressing the last few months…” 

“We have not!” 

“Please,” she rolled her eyes. “You were basically dead for weeks and Joel barely left the house for who knows how long.” 

“That… was less recent,” you said. “And it’s not your job to worry about us so let’s just…” you stopped just short of the stable doors. “How did you know?” 

“Know what?” 

“About…” you lowered your voice. “Joel. Not that I’m admitting to anything.” 

She smirked. 

“That coat’s been hanging in his front closet since you left.” You looked down at yourself and groaned. Her cocky smile grew. “You wanted the coat again. Bingo.” 

“Well just… keep it to yourself, alright?” You said, heading for the door. “I have no idea how to handle this with Savvy yet so cool it for bit. Please.” 

“I can keep my mouth shut you know,” she said as you opened the door to the stable and she went in. She opened her mouth to keep talking but Dina came up to her, smiling, and she froze instead. 

“Hey Ellie,” she smiled a little bigger before looking at you. “Bambi, good to see you.” 

“You too,” you said, clapping Ellie on the shoulder. “Have fun out there.” 

She glared at you over Dina’s shoulder and you just shrugged and winked at her before taking care of the final things you needed to before getting everyone out the door on patrol. 

You seriously considered, for a moment, taking Joel’s hand and just dragging him back home when he told you that you’d be going out separately. Things with him were so raw and delicate and new again. Neglecting it for two days felt dangerous somehow, a tension setting into your limbs before you and Julie headed out. 

You were always last to leave the stables, always waiting until you knew the rest of the patrol was situated even though you knew Olivia could handle things just fine without you. She smiled - a vaguely amused look on her face - as you went back over everything for the third time. 

“I promise, it’s all good,” she said eventually. “Please go focus on killing infected and staying safe and leave managing the horses to me.” 

On the way out of town, you stopped by where the working dogs were kept and asked if you could bring Gatling along, Julie looking a little skeptical as the dog jumped on Renaissance and settled between your legs, her head draped over your bicep. 

“Used to ride like this with her all the time,” you said, kissing the top of the dog’s head. Gatling licked her lips once and curved her body into yours as you sat back in the saddle to make sure she had room. “I’ll let her down once we’re good and underway, she’ll keep up. She’s great at spotting infected and I’m guessing she could be a great patrol dog once we get her adjusted to working with more than just me…” 

“She definitely looks like she can hold her own,” Julie said, watching as Gatling started scanning the horizon, her ears perked and listening, ready to jump off your horse and run down any apparent threat. “What kind of dog is she, anyway?” 

“She’s a Belgian Malinois,” you said, giving her a scratch behind the ears. “They were police and military dogs before. She saved my ass from infected more than once and she kept my girl alive when I couldn’t…” You kissed her head again and she turned to lick your cheek before going back to watching for threats. “She’s a good girl.” 

“Good to know I’ve got someone out here who can really watch my back,” Julie teased lightly. “Not sure I trust you to do it…” 

“Why not?” You asked, gaping at her. “I’m a great shot, keep you alive no problem…” 

“You forget I saw you trying to show Ellie and Savvy how to shoot a basketball that one time,” she smiled a cocky smile. “You barely hit the backboard…” 

“OK shooting a basketball is a completely different animal,” you waved her off. “Where it counts, my aim is solid. Saved Tommy once.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“It’s true,” you said, nudging Renaissance a little faster. “Ask Joel…” 

“Joel, hm?” She brought her horse alongside yours. “Things happening there?” 

You tried to hide your smile but felt the edges of your mouth curve up, anyway. 

“Good for you!” Julie said. “Both because you’re my friend and I want you to be happy but also because I like being right and goddammit, if I’m going to get shot down for a man of all people at least it’s a man I was right about.” 

You laughed a little before you remembered you had things weren’t just magically fixed with Joel yet.

“Do me a favor and don’t mention it to anyone?” You said, looking down at Gatling. “I need to tell Savvy…” 

The dog looked up to you at the mention of her name and you gave her a small scratch. 

“Oh, right,” Julie winced a bit. “Yeah, that might be rough.” 

“Yeah,” you sighed heavily. “I need to figure out a way to do this without losing both of them. I can’t do that again, I just… I can’t.” 

“You’ll figure it out,” she said gently. “It will be OK. Just have to believe it, it’ll happen.” 

“I’ll do my best,” you smiled a little at her. “How’s shit with Karen, by the way?” 

“Oh God,” she laughed. “I’m not sure how much I should tell you…” 

The patrol was easy enough until the snow started flying. It was still, the two of you talking, Gatling sometimes running ahead and acting more like a puppy than you remembered her being before, making you smile. It felt like if she could be like this - young and free and more than what survival had made her - so could Savvy. She would get there someday. You could get her back and make her understand once she was ready. 

Once the snow picked up, you and Julie decided to hunker down instead of pressing on to what was meant to be your final spot for the day. Though you were pretty sure you were only an hour or so shy of it if the weather weren’t working against you. 

“OK this is bullshit is what this is,” Julie said as she stomped snow off her boots and shook it out of her hair. You laughed a little as you got a fire going in the fireplace of the old house you’d reached for the night. It was just at the edge of a small subdivision, a spot you’d ridden past before but never spent much time in. The two of you had gotten the horses settled in the garage and Julie had done a quick walk around the immediate area to make sure there were no threats before coming in to settle for the night. “White, fluffy bullshit.” 

“Not getting you in the holiday spirit?” You teased. “Thanksgiving is coming up, Christmas right after that…” 

“Yeah, I’m already counting down until spring,” she said, shucking her coat and joining you by the fire. “I can only live with this for so long.” 

“I kinda like it,” you said as the fire caught the larger log and you watched it start to go up. “I like that seasons actually change here. It definitely made it easier to mark the passage of time when I didn’t have a calendar.” 

“Well I guess when you put it that way,” she sighed dramatically and you laughed. “But now that you’re in Jackson, we’ll keep you straight on the passage of time. The snow can go.” 

Julie had brought a bottle of whiskey from the Bison - “A perk of the job,” she said - and you were reminded of sleepovers when you were in high school when you and your friends would swipe booze from your parents’ liquor cabinets and get drunk around a bonfire. 

“I feel like we’re going to regret this in the morning,” you said, snug in your sleeping bag on the floor as the fire dimmed, head fuzzy and limbs tingling from the alcohol. Gatling’s head rested on your stomach.

“We can just sleep in a bit,” she scoffed and you heard her adjust on the couch. “What are they gonna do, fire us from patrol for running late? Doubt it.”

You laughed a little. 

“Guess there’s not much to contend with out there right now, anyway,” you said, closing your eyes. “Been quiet as hell all day. Doubt it’ll change overnight.” 

“It’d better not,” she said, sounding sleepy. “Better not be more snow, either.” 

You laughed once. 

“Better snow than infected,” you said. “Or raiders.” 

She didn’t respond and the room was quiet for a moment before you heard a soft snore coming from the couch. 

You laughed and then sighed, pulling a hand from the sleeping bag to scratch Gatling behind the ears. She sighed and curled up tighter to you. 

“It’s gonna be different when we go back,” you whispered to her, absently stroking one of her soft ears. “You can still come home with me, though. Maybe sleep with Savvy instead for a bit. I’m sure you miss her.” 

You tried to think about how to tell Savvy about Joel. It would have been a hard conversation under any circumstance, you thought. Not one you’d ever thought you’d need to have when you’d started caring for her. The idea of being with anyone long term then had been so foreign it hadn’t even crossed your mind. After Marisa, you’d given up on that. Just the occasional lover when there was a woman around who was interested as she was passing through had been enough. 

But Jackson was different. Joel was different. You had safety and security in Jackson and you loved Joel in a way you’d never thought you’d find, especially not after spending so long alone. But how could you tell Savvy something that you knew would hurt her? How could you tell her anything at all when she hadn’t spoken to you in weeks? 

“She’s gonna come around, right?” You whispered to Gatling. You felt her lick her lips and sigh against you. You closed your eyes but left your hand on the dog. “I’ll get her to trust me again. I will.” 

When the pounding on the front door woke you up, you were barely even aware you’d been asleep. But it was daylight outside and Gatling was standing near the front door, crouched low and snarling. 

“Wha…” Julie lifted her head, a groggy look on her face. 

“I got it,” you said, head spinning as you shoved your way out of your sleeping bag. “You stay put.”

“Thank fuck,” she groaned, dropping her head back on the couch and draping her arm over her eyes. You laughed and shook your head, going for the door. 

“Gatling.” The dog looked up at you, ready to obey. “Heel.” 

She fell back from the door and went to your leg, still tight against you, as you opened the door. 

“Glad I found you,” Gene, Jesse’s patrol partner said, pushing past you into the house without waiting for an invitation. “It’s a mess out there…” 

“That’s why we stopped here for the night,” you said, leaving the door open and nodding to Gatling, who immediately ran outside to pee. You waited by the door and let her back in, the dog sticking to your side again. 

“We can’t be that late getting out of here,” Julie grumbled, sitting up and pinching the bridge of her nose. “Not that it’s not just a blast to see you, Gene…” 

“We’re missin’ people,” he said, more to you than Julie. 

“What?” You frowned, crossing your arms over your chest, the after effects of the alcohol suddenly fading fast. “What do you mean we’re missing people, who are we missing?” 

“Joel and Tommy,” he said. “They never made it where they were supposed to last night and we can’t find ‘em….” 

“They probably stopped for the night like we did,” Julie waved him off. “Did you not see the weather last night? It was a shit show…” 

“Probably,” Gene nodded. “But they’d have made it there by now and we didn’t see them comin’ back down, either. No sign of ‘em. Ellie and Dina weren’t where they were supposed to be, either, but we at least found a fuckin’ trail for them, sent Jesse on to get them back in one piece…” 

You were already moving to put your boots on, heart pounding, Gatling giving you a small whine. You put a handful of jerky on the ground for her and refilled her water dish before you started packing up your sleeping bag. 

“I’m sure they’re fine…” Julie said, actually sitting up in the sleeping bag now, her legs pulled into her chest and watching you closely. 

“We should split up,” you said, pulling on your coat. “Cover more ground…”  

“Don’t know if that’s smart…” Gene began but you cut him off. 

“I can handle myself,” you said, harsher than you’d really meant to. “I’ve got Gatling, I’ve got my guns, I’ve got my axe. That’s all I had for 20 damn years and I made it just fine then. If you’re worried, you and Julie can stick together but I’m not gonna sit here and talk about how to minimize risk when they’re out there dealing with who knows what…” 

“Bambi,” Julie said gently, getting off the couch and taking you by the shoulders. “It’s OK.” 

“No,” you shook your head. “It’ll be OK when I find him in one piece, then it’ll be OK, I’m not…” 

“Gene and I will go one way,” she cut you off. “You and Gatling go the other. We’ll cover more ground. OK?” 

Gene sighed, looking between the two of you. 

“You got a death wish, don’t make me stop you,” he said gruffly. “Gonna go get my horse some water, we can head out.” 

You watched him go, a nervous energy coursing through your body. 

“Hey,” Julie said, taking your face carefully in her hands and making you look at her. “It is OK. It’s Joel and Tommy. They’re very, very good at this. They’re OK.” 

There was a pinch of tears at the back of your throat that you had to fight to swallow past. She took your hands, giving them a squeeze. 

“I can’t lose him now,” your voice was thick. “I just got him back, I can’t…” 

“I know,” she said softly, a sad smile on her face and you were struck, for a moment, by just how pretty she was. She pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, her lips lingering on your skin for a second, before she pulled back. “We’ll find him. We will.” 

“Thank you,” you nodded and took a deep breath, one tear slipping free, before looking down at your dog who was watching, ready and waiting. 

“Gatling, heel.” 

She moved to be immediately with you and you went to the garage, quickly saddling your horse and mounting up. You called Gatling up and she settled at the front of your saddle, already watching for incoming threats with her ears perked as you set off. 

You pushed Renaissance harder than you should have through the deep snow, trying to reach some part of Joel and Tommy’s patrol path so you could find some sense of where they might have gone. 

It wasn’t long before you found the path cut by a group of infected. A large one, judging by the footprints in the snow. You didn’t see a sign of Joel or Tommy but the swath of disturbed snow and brush from the hoard as so thorough you doubted you’d be able to tell if two horses had come that way, too. And, knowing Tommy and Joel, they’d have tracked the infected…

You looked higher for a moment, above where people would disturb branches and realized some branches on trees were clean of snow - too high for a person to bump on their own but just the height a tall man on horseback would hit. 

“Goddammit,” you muttered, steering Renaissance in that direction and pushing her on. 

The horse was breathing hard and heavy when you reached a mansion outside the normal patrol area, fully gated with piles of dead infected outside. You looked through your binoculars and saw tracks from the horses leading inside. But something about it set you on edge. Something wasn’t right. 

You commanded Gatling down and tied Renaissance to a tree that provided at least some shelter. 

“Back soon,” you said quietly, giving her a scratch and offering her an apple from your pack. You made sure your weapons were loaded, rifle at the ready, handgun and knife at your hip, axe across your back. Gatling looked at you, licking her lips once, waiting for a command. 

“Gatling, heel,” you said. “Hunt.” 

She latched onto your side like glue, crouched lower and keeping her mouth closed and you moved as quickly as you could for the gates of the mansion. 

There was no one guarding the place that you could see but you closed the gate behind you. If that had been enough to keep infected out before, you weren’t about to argue with it now. There were signs of plenty of people here, footprints of various sizes all heading for shelter inside. You tried not to think about the fact that you might have to torture information out of someone who left those footprints. If they had taken Joel and Tommy’s horses, you’d have to work quick to find what they knew so you could get to them. Torture could be the best option and, if it meant saving their lives, it was a price you were happy to pay. Because they had to still be alive, they had to be. 

The mansion was dark and almost eerily still. It reminded you of some of the places you’d visited when dropping of horses you’d trained to be trail animals for rich assholes before the outbreak, the trappings of extreme wealth couched in some idyllic, fictional version of the wild west. People who in places like this couldn’t handle the real thing. Real wildness would chew them up and spit them out. 

You crept through the house, looking for some sign of people, too afraid to call for Joel and Tommy and potentially bring down who knows how many people on you when you heard it, an agonized cry in a voice you knew, one you knew better than almost anyone else. 

“Joel,” you breathed, and you were running, Gatling at your heels. 

You knew that you should stop, assess, try to form a plan but he screamed again and you plowed ahead. A plan didn’t matter, all that mattered was one thing: getting to Joel. 

You had to get to him. 

He had to be OK. 

He had to be. 

*** 

Joel knew what it was like to die. 

He’d come close enough enough times over the years. Even before the apocalypse began he had a few near shaves. A fall off a ladder at a job site and the thought of “this is it” as he crashed down, the contemplation of what would happen with his daughter if he was gone, if he’d done enough to make it that she would be OK. A car accident that knocked him out and disoriented him enough that, for a moment in the hospital, he thought he was dead. 

The times since had been different, more acute. For a while, it felt like dying would have been a mercy. There was some innate biology that kept his body pushing to survive when his mind saw death as a welcome outcome when he got stabbed or shot when he was taking what he needed to survive or getting the shit kicked out of him when he got overrun smuggling. 

This, though, was something else. He didn’t want to die anymore, not really. He had you and Ellie and even Savvy. He had a reason to live now - live, not just survive - and he wanted it, wanted that life that was hanging there, so tantalizingly close on the horizon as heat of his blood pooled around him. 

He still wasn’t entirely sure what happened, how he’d ended up here like this. He’d reached the girl he’d seen through the binoculars as she damn near got bit, he’d shot the infected and pulled her up just as its teeth were getting close to her neck. 

“We gotta move!” Tommy yelled, shooting another infected. 

Joel gave the girl a once over as quick as he could. 

“You bit?” He asked. She was panting for breath but shook her head. “Got a gun?” She nodded. “Good, let’s go.” 

He tucked her behind him and led the way, trying to find a way through and out. There were dozens of infected, riled up and searching for something to sink their teeth into, desperate for someone to turn. 

“Shouldn’t be this damn many!” Tommy yelled as they scrambled back toward the horses. “Why are there this damn many?” 

“Worry about that later!” Joel snapped, dragging the girl along behind him. She stopped and shot two that were getting too close for comfort and, even in that moment, Joel could appreciate that she was a good shot. “We have to get the fuck away from here, try and lose ‘em…” 

“Think we can get all the way back to town?” Tommy asked, reloading his gun. 

“Hell no,” Joel shook his head. “Need to find somewhere else to hole up…” 

“My friends,” the girl said, looking between the two of them. “We’ve been staying at a mansion, not far from here. It’s got a fence around it, we’ve got the perimeter secure, if we can get there we’ll have help…” 

Joel and Tommy looked at each other. It was unlikely a girl this young would be running with raiders, more likely a group just passing through as they headed for the coast from a QZ. Tommy shrugged and Joel looked back to her. 

“Right,” he said. “We’ll head there, we got horses outside, you can ride with me and just tell us where to go. I’m Joel, that’s my brother Tommy, we’re from a settlement a few hours from here…” 

“Joel,” she said, something shifting in her eyes when she said it. 

“Right,” Joel said, not paying much attention. That seemed stupid, now. But he’d been so worried about Ellie, about you, about getting out of there to make sure you both were OK. “What’s your name, kiddo?” 

“Abby,” she said, an odd twinge in her voice. “My… I’m Abby.” 

They made it to the horses by the skin of their damn teeth, infected at their heels the whole way. 

The kid was right, at least. The mansion was secure, her friends clearing the area with molotov cocktails, infected burning just outside the gates. 

“Jesus Christ that was close,” Tommy laughed, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “Fuck, ain’t come that close in a while…” 

“Couldn’t get a good look at ‘em,” Joel said, looking back at the burning bodies. “See any bullet holes? Any sign they might have run into the girls?” 

Tommy’s giddy smile over surviving faded and he gave Joel’s shoulder a squeeze. 

“I’m sure they’re alright, Joel,” he said. “Shit, Bambi’s a deadeye. And you taught Ellie everything you know. They probably didn’t even come across these fuckers and if they did, they’re fine. They’re fine, both have made it through worse than a few infected…” 

“We should get inside,” Abby said, looking more at one of her friends than at Joel. “Now.” 

Things seemed normal then. Tommy was trying to get the group to come back to Jackson, Joel was worrying about you and Ellie. 

And then they introduced themselves to the group and it shifted. Just like it had with Abby, the change sudden and sharp. 

“Y’all act like you’ve heard of us or somethin’,” Joel said, thinking it was a joke. His mind was still elsewhere, still on you, still on Ellie, still on making sure you both were OK. He wanted to be back in Jackson, back in his quiet house, back in bed with you, pillows actually brought up from the living room and you close enough that he could trace little patterns over your soft skin. 

“Because they have.” 

He didn’t even see the shot coming, didn’t have a chance to warn Tommy to run, his brother on the ground - unconscious? Dead? He wasn’t sure - before he could even think. Joel screamed as the bullet tore through his leg and he went down, straining to get to Tommy through the pain but they swarmed him, these kids his brother had just been trying to talk into coming back to Jackson. They held him down, his back to a wall as Abby knelt in front of him, her face twisted into a snarl. She looked so different than she had when he’d first spotted her, alone and afraid and cornered the way he was now. 

“Joel Miller,” her teeth were gritted, the rifle tight in her grip. 

“Who are you?” He managed, pulling against the people at his arms, people who looked like kids, fucking kids. 

“Guess.” 

“Look,” he grunted and gave his arms a yank but they thrust him back against the glass. “Don’t know what I did to ya but I know I didn’t do it on purpose. Done a lot of shit in my time but I don’t hurt kids and you’re a bunch of kids…” 

“You kill my dad on purpose?” She pressed the barrel of the gun to his chin. “You slaughter a whole hospital of people who were just trying to save humanity on purpose?”

Joel’s stomach dropped. Of course. Of course saving Ellie would come back for him. Of course now that he finally had a life that was worth living it was getting ripped away for the one thing he couldn’t regret. 

“I did what I had to do,” he said, trying to free himself again, even though he knew it was futile. “But it was just me. Do what you need to do, make whatever speech you got saved up, but leave my brother out of it.” 

She squared her jaw, a look of disgust on her face as she got to her feet. She shoved her gun into the hands of the man - barely a man, almost still a boy, Joel thought - beside her. 

“Tourniquet his leg,” she snapped. The others looked around, hesitating. “Do it!” 

She stalked off as another girl obeyed, Joel trying not to scream through the pain as she tightened the belt around his leg. His head was still spinning when she came back into view, a golf club in her hands. 

“You don’t get to ask me for a damn thing,” she looked at him with so much rage, so much hate that, for a moment, he pitied her. That someone so young was so angry and in so much pain, that her father had cast his lot in with a bunch of child killers and paid with his life, leaving her alone, was tragic. “And you don’t get to rush this.” 

She jerked her head toward the people holding him in place and they looked at each other for a moment before stepping back. He tried to move but his leg was fucking useless and Abby swung the club, catching him in the arm before she forced him all the way to the floor with a pained cry. 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been here now. Consciousness was hazy. So was the feeling in his limbs. At times, it was like he was floating, far outside his body and somewhere far softer and warmer and kinder than here. Part of him was back in his living room, almost a year ago now, on Christmas Eve when it was just you and him and he buried himself inside the hot clutch of your body by the glow of the holiday lights. He was lost in the feel of you, so soft and warm below him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt closer to another person in his life, lacing his fingers with yours and looking into your eyes as you came. He’d promised to take care of you then and he’d meant it, he’d meant it so far beyond that moment inside of you, he’d meant it for the rest of his life he’d take care of you. 

He just hadn’t thought it would be so soon. 

At least, he thought, he’d made things right with you. At least he’d gotten to tell you that he loved you again, at least he wasn’t dying wondering if you could ever have forgiven him. At least things were right with Ellie, at least she’d loved him again and she’d let him love her the way she deserved to be loved. At least she had you and Savvy now, people who would love her that way, too, and make sure she was OK. She was going to need someone to make sure she was OK when he was gone, she was so stubborn and she tried to be so much stronger than she needed to be. She needed someone. So did you. 

At least he’d get to be with Sarah again. She was so much closer now than she’d been before, barely out of reach now, somewhere quiet and safe and peaceful. Just far enough away that what was happening now couldn’t reach her. At least she wasn’t seeing this. At least you and Ellie weren’t seeing this.

Something shifted in the room, the club not landing on Joel’s body again, chaos drawing him back into his body again. 

Everything hurt, like he’d been put through a meat grinder. He wasn’t sure he’d ever hurt this much, at least not physically. Every breath was pain. He’d been lying here long enough that some of the blood pooling around his legs had gone cold. 

There was a vicious snarl, the crack of a gunshot and he realized, suddenly, what happened. 

“Gatling!” He could barely adjust his head enough to see where you were. Your rifle was on the ground but so was the only other gun Joel remembered seeing in the room. Your axe was tight in your hands as you threw one of the men back with a roar. You kicked the guns at your feet behind you and pointed to Joel and snapped your fingers. “Guard!” 

The dog ran to him and crouched around his body, hunched low, snarling and barking. You screamed and Joel struggled to see what was happening, tried to get up but he was only able to make it a few inches off the ground before he collapsed back down, his body too broken to properly obey. You were so close, you were in trouble and he tried to focus on it. He had to get you out of here, he had to take care of you, he’d promised to take care of you. He was supposed to protect you, that’s what he was built to do and he was failing. 

“Gatling, bite!” Your command was more of a shriek, sharp and fearful.

The dog shot away from him for a moment, a snarl followed by a pained wail and Joel could see enough to make out that the animal had tackled someone near you as you scrambled to your feet, more of them coming for you. Joel tried again to move but his injured leg gave out that time, collapsing below him before he could put even half his weight on it. 

“Gatling, release!” The screaming stopped and he heard another snap. “Guard!” 

The dog went back to him, snarling and snapping and 

“Bambi!” 

Joel turned his head too quick to the door, his neck screaming in pain, to see Ellie standing there, her eyes wide.

“Ellie!” He yelled through gritted teeth. 

“Go!” You screamed at her, bringing your axe around, swinging wide on another person coming for you, just catching their arm. “Get help, get Jesse! Go!” 

You circled toward the door, axe up, daring any of them to try to follow her. 

“You’re not a part of this!” Abby prowled toward you. “Don’t make me kill you, too.” 

“He’s a part of this so I am, too,” you panted. “If you wanna try and kill me, you better do it quick and you better be damn sure you do it right because the second I’m down, that dog will rip your throats out one by fucking one. She’s done it before, I’ve seen it. You’ll have to kill me - which she won’t take lyin’ down - and get to the guns behind me to take her down. She works quick, hell of a lot quicker than me. If you’re fightin’ both of us, you don’t stand a chance. You that confident? I am. So is she.” 

Gatling snarled as if on cue. 

“Other option is to get the fuck out of here,” you said. Joel could just see you around the dog, blood dripping from your side, lip split open. “We got backup comin’, we’re from a settlement of hundreds and we’ve fought off raiders and infected for fuckin’ years, think we can handle a band of fucking children without much trouble. This worth dyin’ for? Right now, I got your death warrant. Up to you if I sign it.” 

“Abby,” one of the men said. “Let’s go.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She snapped. “You want to just go? Now? Let him live?” 

Gatling snarled again. 

“You’re runnin’ short on time!” You growled, teeth clenched tight. “Now or never!” 

“You lost control of the situation,” the man hissed. “We’re not all dying for your fucking revenge mission.” 

She turned toward Joel and he watched the hatred and the rage move through her. He watched her think about bringing the club down one more time, just to see if she could land a final, killing blow before the dog struck hers. She moved a fraction of an inch toward him and Gatling adjusted, a vicious bark and a snarl ripping from her. 

“He wouldn’t want you to die for this,” the man said quietly, so low Joel doubted you could hear. “And Miller probably won’t survive this, anyway. It’s done. Let’s go.” 

“Fine,” she bit out, throwing the club aside. Joel tried his best to follow her with his eyes, praying that she wouldn’t go for you. Once the people had moved away from him toward you and the door, you called Gatling to you, the dog standing between you and the aggressors, snarling and threatening. They left, watching you closely, without a word.

The door closed and you dropped the axe, grabbing a gun from behind you on the ground and limping for Joel, blood dripping down your leg. 

“Joel,” you fell to your knees beside him. He tried to say something but all that left him was a pained moan. “You’re OK, I’ve got you, you’re alright…” 

“Tommy,” he managed, panting for breath. “Check… Tommy….” 

“OK,” you said softly, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Gatling, guard.” 

You snapped your fingers and pointed to Joel again. The dog obediently came and positioned herself between him and the door, body like a coiled spring ready to attack. You went to Tommy and checked his pulse before adjusting him. Joel heard him groan and you said something he couldn’t quite make out before you were back to him, a bag with you this time. 

“They’ve gotta have something in here,” you said, ripping through the contents. 

“Baby…” 

“Tommy’s alright,” you said, glancing at Joel before going back to the bag. “He’s comin’ around. Ellie will be back soon, she’s bringing help, it’s going to be OK Joel, it is…” 

“Baby.” 

“Hush.�� 

You found what you were looking for, a bag with some medical stuff inside. You set it nearby and looked over Joel’s back, wincing as you did. 

“Need to look at the front of you, too,” you said. “I’m going to roll you over, alright?” 

“Baby…” 

“Shut up, Joel.” 

Your hands shook and he cried out in pain as you moved him onto his back, flinching when you saw his leg.

“Jesus,” you whispered. “What’d they do to you?” 

“Baby,” he said again, managing to lift a hand enough to almost reach your face. You took it, gently guiding his bloody palm the rest of the way to your cheek as you leaned down into it. “You’re bleedin’.” 

“Oh,” you looked down at yourself. “It’s fine, I’ll be fine…” 

“Need to take care,” he had to stop for a second, grinding his teeth through the pain as it wracked his body. It took him a moment to catch his breath. “Care of yourself. I’m… I can’t make it back, not like this…” 

“Shut up, Joel.” 

“Promised to protect you,” he said, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. “Lemme do it.” 

“Protect me later,” you said, setting his hand down and ripping the bag of medical gear open with your teeth. “Going to put bandages on your leg, see if we can let the tourniquet off, save the leg…” 

“Baby.”

“Shut UP, Joel!” 

He watched you work for a moment and you felt farther and farther away with every breath. He could feel himself fading and he wished you’d just stop, that you’d take care of yourself and just hold him while he could still feel you. 

“Need you to look after Ellie,” he said as you wound bandages around his thigh. “She’s gonna act like she doesn’t need anyone but she does and…”

“And she has you,” you cut him off with a glare. “So it doesn’t matter.” 

You released the tourniquet on his leg and it was more of a relief than he’d expected it to be, the pain of it fading to a dull enough roar that he’d forgotten it was there until the weight of it was lifted. 

“Gotta get this spot at your side, too…” you adjusted his shirt and leaned over him and he got a better look at your own side, a bright red splotch growing on your shirt, a long gash going from your ribs down toward your stomach. 

“You’re bleedin’, sweetheart.” 

“I know,” you said. “Getting you fixed up first…” 

“Baby.” 

“Joel, I swear…” 

“Need to get you and Tommy back,” he needed to stop for a second to catch his breath, the rise and fall of his chest straining his ribs. “Can’t… can’t die knowin’…” 

“You’re not dying here,” you snapped, your voice thick. “I just got you back, you’re not dying here, you’re coming home and you’re going to be OK and…” 

You sat back, looking at the spot on his side that you’d just bandaged, wiping your nose on the back of your wrist as you did. 

“Gotta take care of yours now,” he said, eyes tracing the spot at your side. But you shook your head. 

“Outta gauze.” 

“Baby…” 

“It’s not that bad,” you sniffed. “I’ll just… hold pressure until Ellie gets back. It’s OK, you’re gonna be OK, I can’t….” 

“Here,” he ground his teeth, breathing through another wave of pain. “Lay… lay with me. Cut side up, keep the blood from flowin’ too easy.” 

You looked at him for a moment before nodding and lying delicately next to him. He adjusted as best he could so he could see you, touch you. You’d been hit in the face at least twice, one of your eyes swelling shut and your lip split open. But you were still beautiful, so damn beautiful. 

“I’m so sorry baby,” he said softly. 

“Joel…” 

“Wanted… wanted so much more time with you and the girls,” he said quietly. Your skin was soft, so soft it seemed like the sensation of it might be the only thing holding him to the earth. “I’m so sorry we’re not gettin’ that…” 

“Stop talking like that,” you were crying now, not making any attempt to stop it. 

“It’ll be OK sweetheart,” he said. “You’ll… you’ll be alright. Ellie’s gonna need you, keep an eye on her for me. Keep her outta trouble. Savvy, too. She loves you… she’ll… she’ll come around…” 

“Joel,” you whispered, reaching out to cup his face, your fingers in his curls, one of the only places on his body he wasn’t bleeding. 

“I’m so happy we made things right,” he said, his eyes searching yours. He wondered, if he watched you closely enough, if he could bring the precise color of them with him wherever he was going. “I love you so damn much, sweetheart. Need you to know that, OK? I love you.” 

“I love you too,” you breathed. Your skin was so soft and your breath was warm on his skin. “I love you. I love you.” 

You said it again and again. It was the last thing Joel heard before he passed out. 

Next Chapter

A/N: Hi y'all ❤️

Again, begging for you to trust me, OK? OK.

I do love you but... feel free to yell at me in the comments or in my asks or DMs. I'll be responding to asks about the last chapter soon now that this one is up.

Thanks for going on this crazy ride with me!! It truly means the world.

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[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo Chapter 5

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

Also @twistedcece @cenatour @ursinaw @xiaopleasecomehome @bearshideout @koebishrimpuwu @v-sh @help-whatdoimakemyusername @secret-potion @magmdnv @sunshine-for-serotonin @mel-star636 @silkkorchid @thatpersonuouknow @the-ace-reader @pamv11 @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @hrhqueenfox @goseew @luxthestrange @juno-of-wonderland @who-mst @despairingy-obsessed @lanxianschoenheit @ceramic-raven @sirenetheblogger @a13x15a5133p @abcdontbotherme @m0063576 @kimdourden @rammylog and @thisisafish123 wanted to be tagged! Let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged for future chapters. If you no longer want to be tagged, please tell me! (Some of the tags were not working, I'm sorry if yours did not work!)

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you. 

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

Previous Part: Chapter Four

Next Part: Chapter Six

WARNINGS: none for now

Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Also, I can’t promise I’ll finish this. I suck at finishing stories.

Note 2: I haven’t gotten to Idia’s or Diasomnia’s chapter yet, so please forgive me if the characters seem ooc.

Note 3: Of course Jade and Floyd get the most screen time.

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Today you had not one, not two, but three exhibits to cover. The aquarium, reptile exhibit, and the panther and albino tiger exhibit were all on your list today. You decided to cover them in that order.

The man who ran the aquarium gave you the three meals without a second glance, walking briskly through the door as soon as you had picked up the fish sandwiches. What a friendly guy.

You walked through the keeper’s entrance, situated above the aquarium tank for easy access to the halflings inside. You looked down through the blue water and couldn’t see any movement or signs of life at all.

“Um… hello! Meal time!” You called. 

No response.

You kneeled at the side of the tank and splashed your fingers in the water a little, still calling out “meal time”. Just as you were about to give up, a curious head popped out of the water.

It was one of the eel halflings- you could tell by the razor sharp teeth and the golden eye staring lazily up at you.

“Want a sandwich?” You asked, holding out a fish sandwich to the eel.

He nodded and held out a hand. You were fascinated by the webbed, clawed fingers that reached out to you. You must have stared too long because the eel let out a confused chirp, wondering why his sandwich was taking so long.

You handed his meal to him and watched as he dug in. 

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“Floyd! Floyd!” The eel yelled out his name excitedly, as though he had answered a million dollar question. You laughed.

“Nice to meet you, Floyd. I heard you have a brother?”

Floyd nodded and dove under the water. You cringed at the thought of soggy bread, but figured it probably didn’t bother a sea creature. 

Floyd resurfaced moments later, tearing at his sandwich with his sharp teeth. This time, however, he was not alone. Peeking above the water so only the top of his head and eyes could be seen, was a halfling that looked just like Floyd. 

There were a few differences, such as the side his golden eye was on and the side his bangs parted, but the main difference was his expression. He had a different feel to him than Floyd. While Floyd’s face was relaxed and playful, this one was wary and studied you intently in a way that made you feel bare.

“What’s your name?” You asked. The eel did not answer, but Floyd was quick to supply the answer for him.

“Jaaaade,” Floyd told you, a playful smile spreading across his face.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jade,” you said to the quiet eel halfling. He narrowed his eyes in response, studying you even more intently.

You held out a sandwich for him to take. There was a minute where he stared at the food, before a clawed hand gingerly plucked it from your hands. He disappeared under the water.

“There’s one sandwich left… Oh, right! There’s an octopus halfling in the tank too! Could you get him for me, Floyd?” 

Floyd let out a chirp and tilted his head in confusion. You realized you had just dumped a ton of words on the poor halfling.

“Could you get the octopus?” You asked gently.

Floyd chirped again and dove under the water. He came back up looking very proud of himself as he dragged Jade to the surface by his arm.

“No, not Jade…” you tried not to let your frustration show, “The octopus.”

Floyd stared at you uncomprehendingly. 

Jade rolled his eyes, “She wants Azul.” You were surprised by how easily he said the words, as though he were fluent in english. And maybe he was- only time would tell, you supposed.

“Azul!” Floyd gasped, diving under the water again.

This time, when he surfaced, it was alone. You were about to ask Jade to get the octopus halfling, when a handsome face broke the surface. You were surprised by how different from the twins he looked, with his white hair and blue eyes. He also regarded you with apprehension, as though you may hurt him.

“Hello there,” you said softly, “I have a sandwich for you.”

He approached you slowly, and you did your best to stay completely still so as not to scare him off. Finally, he reached out a slender hand and took the sandwich from you. With him as close as he was, you could see black tentacles through the water. He noticed you looking and blushed a light blue, before shooting under the water and disappearing from sight.

Was he embarrassed by his tentacles? You waved away the thought. Surely that was impossible.

“I have to go, guys, but I’ll be back later,” you promised. Jade’s expression did not change, but Floyd dramatically threw himself against the side of the tank and said, “Awwwww…”

You giggled and waved goodbye, a little unnerved by how the twins’ eyes followed you on your entire walk to the door.

Next, the reptile exhibit.

The keeper there was a bit more friendly. He handed you the burgers that were to be fed to the inhabitants and wished you a good day.

There were only two tanks in the heated building, which was modeled to look like a brown cave. You went for the tank on the right first, slipping through the keeper’s door and surveying your surroundings. The giant boa constrictor in the middle of the enclosure turned to face you, and you were surprised by the friendly face you were met with.

The boa constrictor was human from the waist-up and snake from the waist-down. He had ruby eyes that sparkled with interest as he approached you quickly. He smiled widely, almost innocently, and revealed the long, hollow snake fangs in his mouth- a stark contrast from his friendly demeanor.

“Who are you?” The boa constrictor asked.

“I’m (Y/n), and you are?”

“Kalim!” The boa constrictor answered with a closed-eyed smile. He regarded the burgers curiously, “Rat burgers?”

“Oh, is that what’s in them?” You asked, feeling a little green at the thought of eating one of those. You held one out to Kalim and he took it with another big smile.

“Jamil! Wake up!” He stuck his hand into a fake bush and pulled on another snake’s tail. To your horror, the viper you had seen a few days ago came slithering out, seething silently.

Great. An angry, venomous viper. I’m going to die. You shook the negative thoughts from your head and held out a burger, desperately praying he wasn’t going to strike and poison you.

His eyes softened and he took the burger from you gently.

“Thank you. Did you say ‘thank you’, Kalim?” Like a few of the other halflings, Jamil was surprisingly fluent, although he struggled over some of the words.

Kalim’s eyes widened, “Oh! Thank you, (Y/n)!”

You laughed at his enthusiasm, “No problem, you two.”

As you waved goodbye, Kalim’s tail wrapped around your ankle. Surprised, you said, “I’ll be back later.” Reluctantly, Kalim withdrew his tail.

You headed to the other cage. As you approached, something bright blue skittered under a large bush. Curious, you entered through the keeper’s door.

“I’ve got a burger for you,” you called out.

“Ugh…” a dreary voice reached your ears, “A burger again? That’s snake food. Do they even know how to take care of a lizard?”

You poked your head around a particularly large bush and spotted the inhabitant of the tank you were in. He had pale skin with electric blue hair, scales, and tail, curled up in the corner, glaring at you.

“I’m sorry, that’s all I have for you today,” you apologized. The lizard appeared to be another halfling that was fluent in English. You were surprised by how many there were.

“You are new,” the lizard stated.

“Yes, I’m (Y/n). I’m a researcher,” you explained.

The lizard nodded, “I’ll eat the burger.”

You handed it to him, “Thank you, I’m sorry you don’t like burgers. What’s your name?”

He was quiet for a few moments, before replying, “Idia.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Idia,” you said. You gave him a wave goodbye and he looked surprised.

“You’re leaving already?” He asked.

“I’ll be back soon!” You promised.

Idia nodded, then curled back up, “I like being alone anyways.”

You waved goodbye again, but it was not returned. You headed out of his exhibit and out of the reptile house. The next place to go was the panther and white tiger exhibit.

The fresh air hit your face as you traveled to the next exhibit. You felt the same nervousness as when you went into the lion and hyena area- the fear of predators much stronger than you. The meals were left on a table for you to take (more burgers), but no zookeeper was in sight. Some of the keepers here really were not friendly…

As soon as you opened the door, you were met with both of the albino tigers. You stiffened as one of them turned to you with a stern expression. The other tiger, you noted, was fast asleep. 

“You are not the keeper!” The awake tiger yelled, “Trespasser! Trespasser!”

“No, no! I’m filling in for today,” you soothed, “See, I have your burgers.”

That seemed to satisfy him, because he sat down with a thump, tail twitching. 

“What’s your name?” You asked, handing him a burger.

“Sebek,” he said importantly, sitting up proudly.

You turned to the sleeping tiger and gently called out, “Hey, can you wake up for a second? I have your dinner.”

The tiger did not stir. Sebek leaned over and gave him a nudge. The tiger startled awake, blinking blearily around.

At first, you were a little nervous. What if this tiger would be angry that you disturbed his sleep? 

However, the tiger showed no signs of hostility, calmly approaching you and taking a burger.

“He’s Silver,” Sebek introduced him. The sleepy tiger, Silver, nodded absently as he began to eat.

“Nice to meet you both!” You said enthusiastically. They did not return the enthusiasm.

You took the other two burgers and walked through the underbrush, leaving the pair to their meal. You wondered where the panthers were.

“Hello,” a pleasant voice said.

You looked around but could not find the owner of the voice. “Up here,” he said.

You looked up and were shocked to see a panther halfling hanging upside down on a tree branch.

“How…?” You asked, stunned.

He let out a soft laugh and let himself fall to the ground, twisting in midair to land on his feet. He held out his hand, “I take other burger to Malleus.”

“Oh, I was looking forward to meeting everyone…” You said uncertainly.

Lilia looked surprised, “Researcher?”

“Yes, I’m a researcher.”

Lilia smiled, “Follow.”

You followed him as he walked through the forest. Before long, you both had ended up in a clearing. A tall panther halfling lounged on a rock, his eyes lighting up with curiosity as you approached.

“I brought you a burger,” you said cheerfully, holding out said burger.

The halfling stood up and it was only then that you noticed the horns jutting out of his head behind his ears. Suddenly, you realized why the black-and-pink haired panther had tried to spare you a meeting with him.

Halflings with horns, other than goat and ram halflings, were known to be able to produce magic. Strong magic.

A thrill of fear ran through you, but you held your ground. He didn’t seem to be hostile, so you wouldn’t show your hesitation.

“Thank you,” he said, voice smooth and rumbling.

You nodded, eyes fixated on his oddly-shaped black horns. The other panther took a bite of his burger and, as if he were copying him, Malleus quickly took his burger from your hand and dug in.

“I’ll be back soon, it was nice to meet you both,” you said gently, giving them a wave. It was only after you had closed the exhibit door that you realized you hadn’t gotten the pink-and-black haired panther’s name. 

You pulled out your notebook. You’d get everyone’s names downpat soon enough. It was time to begin your observations.

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Syverson

A little short, sweet and spicy chapter inspired by this post by @navybrat.

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, Mild/Implied smut. Please let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Established relationship. Reader is plus sized female. No other descriptors used.

A/N2: Sorry this is late! I swear I had it queued up and ready to go earlier today!

Previous

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Spa days weren't exactly something you were interested in. Having strangers wash your hair, rub your feet, cover your eyes with cucumbers. It was all just too much for your anxiety. And that was before you took the cost into account. But that didn't mean you couldn't still find spa adjacent ways to relax.

Sometimes, when it was just you and Lily, you'd enjoy soaking your feet in a little spa-like soaker. The warm water and gentle massage were very relaxing. Especially after Lily learned it wasn't an second water bowl. When your periods got rough, sometimes all you could do was sit there, feet soaking, heating pad over your pelvis. Lily snugged up to you, unsure of what was wrong but knowing you needed help.

Your favorite, though, was when Sy was home. Anytime you asked for a spa treatment, he smiled and prepared the body lotion for the hour long massage you were going to get. His hands were damn near magical with how good they felt. So warm, so strong, yet able to be gentle for you. Your entire body felt like jelly by the time he was done with you.

Though, in truth, he still wasn't done.

After your massage, when you can't move from how good you feel, Sy flips you onto your back and starts eating you out. He calls it his "payment" for the massage and who are you to deny him when he makes you feel so damn good? He knows he's done a good job when he has you crying out his name for the fifth time. That's when he pulls away from your oversensitive pussy and gives you a deep kiss, your juices still in his beard.

"Tell me what you need, Darlin'," he growls.

"You, Captain," you breathe. "Need you."

"That's my girl," he replies as he moves away just long enough to take off his clothes. One time he tried to keep his shirt on but you pouted that you wanted all of him. Since then, he's always removed the shirt as well.

You swear you'll never get used to the way he so easily manhandles you into whatever position he wants. It's thrilling, if only because you trust him so much. He loves to position you so that he can watch your tits bounce as he pounds into you. Loves watching your face when you cum. Loves how you call his name. He swears there's nothing more beautiful.

He always tells you that there is no "keeping score" in these kinds of things, but you're not one for receiving all the pleasure without giving some back.

On his bad days, when the nightmares wake him up, when the PTSD hits again, it's not just Lily that helps him. You know what smells to keep out of the apartment, which ones to keep to help him get back to you. You know when he needs space and when he needs to be held. You've abstained from alcohol because it was always too tempting for him to keep around. You know when to push him to talk, when to let it go.

You take care of each other, like you promised to when you exchanged vows. Neither of you ever regrets it.

Next

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory;

@kingliam2019; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @ronearoundblindly

[mrsportgas]

The Neightbor CHAPTER 3.

Summary: The story takes place in the real world. Shanks, your unbearable neighbor, makes you a proposition that you're unsure whether to reject. It could be the start of a friendship, or maybe something more?

SHANKS X YOU

WARNING: Except for the first chapter, the rest will contain scenes of sex and violence, making this fanfic strictly +18.

TAG LIST: @buggsclownie @commanderfreethatdust

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

SHANKS POV

Everything was calm. I was at the bar, sharing laughs with my friends and a group of girls who had decided to join the conversation. One of them kept touching my arm and flirting shamelessly, but being the gentleman I am, I just keep talking to her to be nice, but my mind was elsewhere.

I watched Y/N as she walked towards the bar and I noticed something different in her face, like she was dealing with a dilemma.

She was walking quickly, with an expression of determination that intrigued me. I couldn’t help but let my eyes follow her, from her gaze to her body. Every move she made had me captivated, but I didn’t let it show on my face. I didn’t want to draw too much attention.

Before I could process what was going on, Y/N was in front of me. In a move I didn’t see coming, her hands slid up my neck, getting closer to me so quickly and decisively that I barely had time to react. I felt her lips press against mine with overwhelming passion, without a second thought.

For an instant, I froze. The initial surprise quickly faded, and my instincts took over. My hands found her waist, pulling her towards me, while my other hand went to her hair, gripping it firmly. I responded to her kiss with the same intensity, our tongues meeting in a battle of desire. Around me, I heard the cheers and laughter of my friends, but all that faded into the background. We were immersed in our own world, though I sensed there was something deeper behind this kiss.

Y/N pulled away from me, her face flushed with embarrassment. My eyes quickly met hers, but then I noticed something that disturbed me: her wrist, reddened. I lowered my gaze to it, and my expression hardened.

"Did he hurt you?" I asked, with clear concern in my voice.

She didn’t answer immediately, just lowered her gaze to her wrist. My jaw tightened. What had happened to bring her to this point?

"What happened, Y/N?" I pressed, trying to keep the irritation that was starting to bubble up inside me under control. She remained silent, but I didn’t need more to understand that someone had done something to her. The atmosphere around us started to shift. The confusion on her face told me something was wrong.

I gently took her hand and guided her to a quieter corner of the bar, where the laughter and noise of the party began to fade. I didn’t want her to feel any more pressure than necessary.

"Are you alright, pretty? Do you want me to take you home?" I asked, trying to ease the tension in the air. But she shook her head, clearly trying to compose herself.

"Who’s that guy?" I asked again, more calmly this time, moving a little closer while my hand softly caressed her back.

"He's my ex… He won't leave me alone," she admitted, closing her eyes. The exhaustion in her voice made it clear this wasn’t something new for her. But what she said next surprised me.

"I'm sorry about before… I was an idiot. I shouldn’t have kissed you without your permission."

I couldn’t help but smile inwardly. Was she apologizing for kissing me? It wasn’t necessary, but what concerned me most at that moment was the situation with that guy. My eyes scanned the room, and sure enough, there he was, watching the scene with an arrogant smile. Ah, so that’s why Y/N had done it, to get rid of him.

"I can´t handle the situation anymore, I don´t know what else to do".

I stepped closer to her, gently pushing her body with mine, my lips finding hers again. This time the kiss was more intense, full of intention. I wanted to make something clear, not just to Y/N, but to her ex. This wasn’t just a game. As we lost ourselves in that kiss once again, I was aware of her vulnerability, but also of the gaze that was watching us from a distance.

Then, with a soft whisper in her ear, I asked, "Do you trust me?" My breath mingled with the warmth of her skin as I lightly bit her earlobe. I felt her nod, surrendering completely to the moment.

I couldn’t help but smile, enjoying the control I had over the situation. Slowly, I lifted the hem of her dress a bit, sliding my hand underneath to firmly grip her ass. My fingers sank into her skin as I returned to her mouth, devouring her with a restrained desire. I knew Kid was watching, and I wanted him to know one thing: he didn’t stand a chance here.

I kissed Y/N with more intensity, feeling her body surrender to mine. My hand remained firmly on her ass, gripping her as if to mark my territory, sending a clear message to anyone watching. Her soft sighs between our kisses only fueled the fire that was burning inside me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the boy standing there, his face twisted in fury. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles turning white as his body trembled with frustration. The sight of Y/N in my arms, especially with my hand gripping her so intimately, was pushing him to his limit. His arrogant smirk from earlier had completely vanished, replaced by a storm of rage and humiliation.

But I didn’t stop. I wanted him to feel every second of this. I wanted him to understand that Y/N was no longer his to claim or torment. Each kiss, each touch, each pull of her body closer to mine was a deliberate act of defiance.

I could feel Y/N’s heartbeat racing against my chest, the mix of adrenaline and desire palpable between us. Her breath came out in soft gasps as I broke the kiss, moving my lips down to her neck, tasting her skin. I heard her whisper my name, barely audible, as I kissed her gently, my hand still holding her tightly.

In the background, the atmosphere began to shift. Kid’s fury was hard to ignore now. He took a few steps forward, his jaw clenched, eyes burning with anger as he shouted over the noise of the party, "Get your damn hands off her!"

The tension in the air thickened, and I felt Y/N stiffen slightly in my arms. I pulled back just enough to lock eyes with Kid, who now stood glaring at me, looking ready to burst.

"What's the problem?" I asked calmly, my voice deliberately cool and collected. I didn’t move an inch, my hand still resting on Y/N, making it clear that I wasn’t intimidated.

"She's not yours!" he spat, his voice trembling with fury. "You don’t get to touch her like that!"

I smirked, tilting my head slightly, enjoying the look of frustration that crossed his face. "Looks like she doesn’t belong to you either," I replied, my tone sharp, watching the fire in his eyes grow. "Maybe you should learn to take a hint."

The words hit him hard, and I could see the veins in his neck pulsing as his rage built up. But I wasn’t about to let this escalate into a fight, not yet. I leaned closer to Y/N, pressing a soft kiss to her temple before whispering in her ear, "Stay close to me."

She nodded, her fingers tightening their grip on my shirt, as though she trusted me to handle the situation. And I would.

Kid’s temper was getting the better of him, and it was obvious he was on the edge of losing control. His eyes darted between Y/N and me, and for a second, I thought he might actually come at me. But I didn’t flinch. I knew exactly how to handle men like him, hot-headed and desperate for control.

"You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into" Kid growled, taking another step forward, his chest heaving with barely contained rage. "She’s mine. Always has been. You’re just some passing fling."

I chuckled softly, shaking my head. "No. She’s not yours. And judging by the way she kissed me, I don’t think she ever wants to be again."

The crowd around us had quieted down now, sensing the tension. My friends stood ready in case things escalated further, but I wasn’t too worried. I knew the boy would think twice before throwing the first punch in front of so many witnesses. Still, I wasn’t going to let my guard down.

"You talk a big game, but let’s face it… You’re nothing to her now," I said, keeping my eyes locked on his, the smirk never leaving my lips. "So why don’t you be smart for once, and walk away before this gets worse for you?"

Kid’s face turned crimson, his breathing heavy and erratic. He clenched his fists tighter, but after a long, tense moment, he finally seemed to realize that this was a fight he couldn’t win. Not like this.

"You’ll regret this," he hissed, glaring at me one last time before storming off, pushing through the crowd angrily.

I let out a small breath of relief as he disappeared from sight. The tension in the room began to ease, and the noise of the party slowly resumed. I looked down at Y/N, who was still holding onto me tightly, her eyes wide with a mixture of relief and lingering anxiety.

"You okay?" I asked softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. She nodded, still catching her breath, but there was a quiet strength in her expression now.

I smiled and pulled her close again, my hand resting on her back. "He won’t bother you anymore, I promise"

YOUR POV

When we parted, I felt as though the world around us had changed somehow, as if all the chaos surrounding us had faded away. The curious stares, the murmurs of people, even the distant echo of Kid’s fury… none of it mattered anymore. It was just Shanks and me.

“Thank you,” I whispered, barely aware that I had spoken. “For… everything.” I didn’t know how to express what I was feeling. Shanks hadn’t just defended me; he had made me feel valued in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Shanks replied, his voice deep and filled with a calmness that wrapped around me. “Besides, now we’re even. A kiss for a kiss.”

I looked around, noticing how the party was slowly returning to its normal flow. Laughter and music once again filled the air, and although I could still feel the occasional glance thrown our way, I no longer cared. We walked back toward the group, and Shanks drifted off to chat with his friends while mine approached me.

"Oh my God, Y/N, are you okay? I don’t even know what just happened," Nami said, breathless.

“I’m fine, girls. I’d rather forget about it… and about Kid.”

"Yeah, let’s just go home," Nami continued.

“Actually, girls… I think I’ll stay here… with them,” Robin said casually.

“With them… or with someone specific, Robin?” Nami teased, laughing.

“Alright, just give us a call if you need anything. You’re not staying, Nami?”

“I will, but only if you don’t leave by yourself,” Nami said, winking at me.

I glanced over at Shanks. He gave me a sense of calm I couldn’t deny. I watched him from afar, talking to his friends, his relaxed and confident demeanor making it seem as though what had just happened didn’t affect him at all.

But I still felt the fire burning inside me. Not just because of what had happened with Kid, but because of what Shanks had awakened in me. From the moment his hands had brushed against my body, his mouth claiming mine, everything had changed. Something inside me had ignited, and I knew that this night wouldn’t simply end with a casual chat and goodbye.

Shanks turned back toward me, a sly smile forming on his lips as if he already knew what I was thinking. He stopped right in front of me, his gaze locked intensely on mine.

“Ready to go?” he asked, his tone casual, but the spark in his eyes told me there was nothing casual about his suggestion.

I nodded, my heart racing. I wanted to be with him, to feel the connection we had shared in every kiss, every touch.

We got into Shanks' car, a comfortable silence filling the space. He slid into the driver’s seat, and I settled into the passenger seat, still feeling the warmth of his proximity on my skin.

The engine purred softly as we pulled away from the noisy party. My gaze drifted to the city lights slowly passing by the window, my thoughts swirling in my mind. I couldn’t believe what had happened; from the kiss at the party to now, it all felt surreal.

I felt a slight brush against my leg, and when I looked down, I saw Shanks’ hand resting casually on my thigh. His touch was gentle, almost as if he didn’t want to impose anything, but at the same time, it made me feel safe, as if everything would be alright as long as he was near.

“Are you okay?” Shanks asked, his deep, soothing voice breaking the silence.

I nodded again, my heart still racing. “Yeah… I’m just a little overwhelmed by everything that happened tonight.”

Shanks glanced at me from the corner of his eye, though he kept his focus on the road. I could see the concern on his face. “You don’t need to worry about Kid anymore,” he said, his tone firm yet reassuring.

His words, though simple, filled me with relief. I knew that if anyone could make Kid back off, it was Shanks. But I didn’t want this night to revolve around that idiot.

“Thank you,” I murmured, and with a small smile, I added, “Although, to be honest, I don’t think you were just protecting me. It seemed like you enjoyed teaching him a lesson too.”

Shanks let out a soft chuckle, the sound filling the car with an unexpected warmth. “Maybe a little,” he admitted with a mischievous smile. “But mostly, I wanted to make something clear: you deserve way more than someone like him.”

My heart skipped a beat at his words. I looked at him, my gaze lingering on his profile under the flickering city lights. There was something about Shanks, a blend of confidence, strength, and a tenderness I hadn’t expected to find in someone like him. I wanted to say something, to express what I was feeling, but the words seemed to get stuck in my throat.

Before I could respond, Shanks reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small white card. He handed it to me without taking his eyes off the road.

“What’s this?” I asked, taking the card between my fingers.

“My work card,” he replied with a playful smile. “I don’t usually give my personal number to just anyone…” he said, laughing lightly.

I looked at the card, surprised by the gesture. It had his name, “Shanks D.,” and the details of what seemed to be a research company. My pulse quickened as I realized that he was not only trusting me with his personal number but also his work contact. It felt like a deeper connection beyond what had happened tonight.

“Thank you,” I whispered, carefully placing the card into my bag.

His gaze met mine briefly, and something in his expression made me feel a warmth I hadn’t experienced in a long time. It was as if, beneath that carefree facade, there was someone who truly wanted to take care of me.

When we arrived at his house, he parked the car and turned toward me, his hand still resting on my leg. “Do you want to stay? Or if you want to go home, I’ll understand.”

My heart melted a little at that. He was thoughtful, even though the situation was clearly leading us toward something more. But in that moment, I knew I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to keep being close to him, and I didn’t want to sleep alone in my cold house.

“Thank you,” I said once more, my voice a bit stronger. “But I’d rather not be alone tonight.”

A soft smile curved his lips as he turned off the car. “Then let’s go inside.”

His fingers briefly intertwined with mine as he guided me toward his house. When we were inside, we climbed the stairs. I stayed silent for a moment, watching him as he walked toward what I assumed was the guest room, returning moments later without his jacket. I could still feel the heat of his hand on my leg, the way his touch had both comforted and excited me at the same time.

"You can sleep in my bed, you'll be more comfortable," Shanks said softly. "I’ll head to the guest room."

As he prepared the bed, I stood in the doorway, watching him for a few moments. He seemed so focused, so considerate. But deep down, something inside me urged me not to let this night end with us in separate rooms.

When he finished arranging the sheets, Shanks turned to me with a gentle smile. “It’s all set. You can sleep here. If you need anything, I’ll be in the room at the end of the hall.”

He stood near the door, giving me a brief smile. It was almost like he was trying to wrap up the night. I could feel the hesitation in the air, as if there was something unspoken lingering between us. My heart raced, and I couldn't let him leave just like that.

"Shanks…" I said softly, taking a deep breath. "Stay with me tonight."

His hand paused on the doorknob, and I saw the conflict in his eyes as he turned to face me. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. His gaze softened as it met mine, and I could see the desire flicker across his face, but there was something else there too—something holding him back.

"You know, Y/N," he began, his voice low and rough, "there’s a lot to consider here." He hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. "There’s an age difference between us. I’m an older than you, and… I don’t want you to regret this later."

I stepped closer to him, feeling the tension between us building. "I won’t regret it," I whispered, my voice steady. "I don’t care about the age difference."

Shanks let out a heavy breath, clearly torn. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing away for a moment, as if trying to gather his thoughts. "Y/N," he muttered, his voice slightly strained, "this is not something I take lightly. You’re young, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. I don’t want you to feel like this is something you have to do."

I shook my head, moving even closer until I was right in front of him. "This is what I want," I said firmly, my eyes locking with his. "I want you."

Shanks looked down at me, his expression softening, but there was still that flicker of doubt in his eyes. I could see him wrestling with himself, torn between what he thought was right and what he actually desired. His hand reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from my face, his touch warm and tender.

"You don’t know how much I want this too," he murmured, his voice deep and hushed.

I could see that he was trying to protect me, to be the responsible one. But I wasn’t going to let him push me away. I reached for his hand, holding it between mine. "Then don’t overthink it," I whispered. "Fuck me"

For a long moment, Shanks didn’t move. His hand remained in mine, his gaze searching my face as if he was looking for reassurance, for permission. And then, slowly, he let out a breath, and I saw the final traces of his resistance fade. His hand tightened around mine.

"Alright," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "As you wish sweetheart"

As Shanks’ hand tightened around mine, the air between us shifted, charged with an undeniable energy. He leaned in slowly, his lips brushing mine with a tenderness that almost made me shiver. The kiss was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring every second, every touch. His hand moved to cradle the back of my neck, pulling me closer as our lips moved in sync, the soft pressure of his mouth sending waves of heat through my body.

I could feel his hesitation slowly melting away, replaced by an unspoken desire. His other hand slid down to my waist, tracing the curve of my hips as he deepened the kiss, his tongue gently teasing mine. I responded in kind, my hands sliding up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingers.

His lips left mine for a moment, trailing down to my jawline and then to my neck, his breath warm against my skin. Every kiss, every touch, felt like it was setting me on fire. My hands found their way to his shirt, and I began to unbutton it slowly, my fingers trembling slightly as I worked my way down. Shanks watched me, his eyes dark and focused, as if he was waiting for my every move.

When his shirt finally slid off his broad shoulders, I let my hands roam over his bare chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath my fingertips. His perfectly sculpted muscles lay beneath my hands. There was no denying that he had dedicated himself to working on that body to perfection; every muscle was perfectly defined.

I stayed admiring his body for a while. "Like what you see?" he said, raising his voice now with a cocky smile. "Now, you ask me to fuck you. Are you sure?" He said whispering in my ear

I nod and he continued " Great. Then you gonna be a good girl and do everything i say?"

I nod for a second time.

Shanks' eyes darkened with desire as he moved closer, his hands sliding up my body with a mix of passion and control. His touch sent shivers down my spine, and I felt the heat between us intensify.

Without saying a word, his fingers found the hem of my dress, gripping it firmly before pulling it over my head in one swift motion. His gaze roamed over my exposed skin, and I could see the raw hunger in his eyes as he took in every inch of me.

With a fiery determination, he reached for my bra, his movements becoming more urgent, more intense. His hands were rough but deliberate, and the way he undressed me sent waves of anticipation through me. Piece by piece, he stripped away my clothes, his fingers brushing my skin with a fierce tenderness that made my heart race.

His breathing grew heavier, and I could feel the weight of his desire in every movement. He was holding back, trying to stay in control, but I could see the fire burning behind his eyes. He wanted this just as much as I did, and I could sense the passion simmering beneath his restraint.

His eyes roamed over my body, now lying naked except for my panties, as he licked his lips. "You're stunning."

With both hands gripping my waist, he swiftly and powerfully turned me around. His left hand found its place on my neck, guiding my body toward the wall, pressing my face and chest against it.

His right hand settled on my hip, pulling me backward slightly, before slowly sliding down to my ass, delivering a quick, firm smack.

I moaned in response.

After that, his hand traveled back to my thigh, urging me to spread my legs while his fingers traced the fabric of my underwear. When they reached the center, he began moving a single finger in perfect circles over my clit.

I moaned again, needing more. "Shanks… please."

He slid his hand beneath my panties, one finger venturing lower, searching for my entrance, while the others massaged my burning clit in precise movements. When he reached my entrance, he gently slid his finger inside, searching for my G-spot. A moan escaped my lips, and Shanks let out a satisfied huff with a small smirk.

"I'm going to make you come until you can't take it anymore, and then you'll be a good girl and take all of me," he whispered, his sensual tone driving me wild.

He started moving his fingers with perfectly calculated motions. I had never felt anything like it; no one had ever been able to do this. His other hand slid up to my breasts, massaging them and teasing my nipples while he added a second finger. The room was filled with my moans and cries of pleasure.

Shanks grabbed my neck, leaning close to my ear. "You're so wet… If you're good, later I’ll let you ride me."

And that was my undoing. The ball of pleasure that had been building deep inside me exploded throughout my entire body, sending me soaring, my legs trembling, and a deep moan escaping my lips.

He grabbed me firmly, guiding me toward the bed, his strong hands turning me around again. "Lie down," he commanded in a dominant tone, his eyes filled with lust and fierceness, directing me toward the bed. He grabbed a pillow, positioning it beneath my back.

I lay down on the bed as he instructed, still trying to catch my breath, while Shanks tugged my panties down, slipping them off one leg and tossing them to the floor.

Then, he positioned himself between my legs, kissing my thighs before making his way back to my most intimate parts.

NEXT CHAPTER

[emeritusemeritus]

No Good Deeds [George Weasley x Reader]

Part 1 2 3

Part 3

Title: No Good Deeds. Part 3.

Pairing: {George Weasley x Reader} mentions of previous Fred Weasley x Reader.

Timeline: Set a few years after DH, loosely following Canon.

Summary: A few years after Fred’s death, the investors of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes demand changes to the name. All it would take is two years of a fake marriage to fix the issues, but no good deed goes unpunished.

Warnings: Fake marriage trope because we love the cliché. Mentions of death (Fred). Friends to lovers. Slow burn but mentions of kissing and eventual smut. Swearing. George calls us Angel. Drinking. Angst, sadness, grief. Tags will be updated with each chapter.

This one got a little sad I’m sorry, I’m in my Freddie feels right now 🥀

Arriving at the shop, you noticed that Ron was still not here yet as the shop was in complete blackout except for the window lights which remained on at all times. You pulled out your wand and recited the unlocking spell that Fred had created and personalised, as well as the counter spell for the anti-alohamora charm he'd placed upon the building. You locked the door behind you with a flick of your wand and illuminated the store, making your way straight up to the office. The store looked good and tidy, though you did notice during your ascent up the stairs that there were a few stock items that needed replenishing, something you could do once you'd set up everything in the back.

Around half an hour later, Ron burst through the office door, calling for George and immediately froze upon seeing you sat there at his brother's desk.

"Oh, thought it was George this morning," he says, running his hand over the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed at barging in.

"He had some stuff to sort this morning, said I'd cover for him," you explained with a little shrug, grabbing the floats from the safe and the morning banking book.

"Oh right, yeah okay," Ron says, following behind you as you walk down the stairs. "Think he's got a secret girlfriend?"

Ron's words make you momentarily freeze, having not expected him to say that.

"Don't know Ronald," you said with another shrug and a smile, "but if Percy can get a girlfriend then George definitely can." Ron laughs with a nod and helped you set up the shop as you work together, laughing and joking like usual. He tries to pry into George's love life a little more, assuming that you know more than he does but you successfully manage to deflect his questions, hopefully without any suspicion.

You winced as the stones of your engagement ring caught the palm of your hand for the third time since you'd been restocking the shelves and looked down to see a little imprint of the outline cut into your hand. You sighed, checking around you to see where Ron was before walking up towards the office and turning left instead, towards the flat. Approaching the wooden door, you took a deep breath in and tried to gather your courage, suddenly feeling emotional and overwhelmed at returning to the flat you'd once known so well, dreading stepping through the door.

You huffed out a breathe and opened the handle, immediately greeted by the dark corridor that wrapped around the flat. You walked past the closet and then past what used to be Fred's bedroom, pausing only briefly to touch the doorframe as you felt your lip wobble, tears threatening your eyes. You shook them away and carried on walking towards George's room, looking for something specific that you knew he had, hoping he wouldn't mind you borrowing it.

You felt uncomfortable intruding like this, but it was the only solution you could think of. You stepped through the door and found the room to be much neater than you imagined, with only a few pieces of clothing and ties strewn on the floor in the otherwise rather tidy bedroom. You walked over to his dresser, seeing his leather watch box on top and raised the lid. Immediately you were met with a photo of you, George and Fred in your fifth year, building a snowman in the courtyard at Hogwarts. You all looked so young and happy, dressed in layer upon layer of warm clothes topped with coats and hats as you beamed at the camera, Fred's arm wrapped around you and George holding onto your shoulder, each one of you proud of the enchanted snowman you'd created. A tear leaked out of your eye and you bit your lip to try and prevent anymore from falling as you quickly wiped it away, unable to take your eyes of Fred's infectious smile. You placed the photo down onto the lid and reached to grab a silver chain that was beside the watch that his parents had given him for his 17th birthday, the same watch that sat beside an identical one in the box. You'd bought both of them a chain for their 17th birthday with a little engraved pendant attached that you had customised. The engraving was a 'w' sign with a little star at the top, the very same sign that would become the logo for the shop. Fred was buried in his chain, having never taken it off, but you noticed that George hadn't worn his much in the past few years, which you understood. You took out the chain and slipped the engagement ring through it before securing it around your neck and tucking it underneath your shirt. The last thing you wanted was to lose the ring and this was the only way you could keep it safe whilst you were at work, knowing you'd be panicking if it was in your pocket all day and you vowed to keep it at home tomorrow. You closed the lid of the watch box, casting one last glance at the photo before walking out of the flat and back down to the shop. Ron was none the wiser and you carried on restocking the love potions, no longer hurting from the ring, as Ron grabbed the skiving snackboxes in preparation for you opening the store.

You briefly thought of George as you wiped down the counter, wondering if the furniture had been delivered yet and what he was doing at home before a knock at the front door dragged you out of your musings. Verity had arrived for her shift and you let her in with a wave of your wand, greeting her before disappearing into the office for one last check over the inventory books before the shop opened.

"Morning stranger," you heard a voice say a little later as you deposited some cash into the safe. You turned around and saw George leaning on the door frame, arms crossed with a smirk on his lips, looking well rested and quite frankly, very handsome in his suit and burgundy shirt.

"Morning Georgie," you smiled, locking the safe and turning to face him completely.

"You ran off this morning," he teases, stepping forward to sit next to you on the desk, his long legs leaning beside you.

"I left a note," you countered in a mock-argument, giving him a wicked smile. He chuckles and nods, his eyes flicking over you.

"Did everything come okay? Didn't expect you in yet."

"All set up," he says with a nod before frowning gently, his mouth opening and closing twice before he says the next part, "look about last night, I'm sorry if-"

"Georgie," you said, moving to stand and place your hand on his chest to stop him. "I offered."

"Yeah not for me to sleep with-

"It's fine, actually it was nice to sleep beside someone again," you said honestly, the image of Fred's smiling face from the photograph filling your mind as you thought of the only person you'd ever shared a bed with. "Except for the snoring, that I could do without," you joked. He immediately grabbed you and pulled you into him as you let out a little squeal at the sensation of his beginning to tickle you.

"Snoring!?" He repeats with a shout, trying to look outraged but the grin on his face told you that he was far from angry. "How rude Mrs Weasley," he jokes, stopping the tickling but still keeping his hands on your waist. His eyes flick down to your left hand and his brows knit together momentarily as you follow his train of thought.

"Couldn't let Ron see it yet," you said as you both looked at your left ring finger, "I have to confess something though."

"Don't say you've lost it already," George says with a small, goading smirk which transforms into a laugh as you hit him on the chest for the little dig.

"No I haven't lost it," you say with a huff before reaching down into your shirt and pulling out the chain that sits around your neck, the ring hanging off of it like a pendant, knowing he'd recognise it instantly, "had to borrow this from you, is that okay? Please don't be mad, I tried to put the ring on my other hand but it kept digging in and it cut me and."

George immediately stops your babbling by pressing his lips to yours, a move that shocks you to your core as you stand there frozen, feeling his soft lips on yours. The kiss lasts no more than a few seconds but you can't help but stay perfectly still, more than surprised by his actions, your eyes slowly fluttering open after instinctively closing as he leaned in. George pulls away and looks at you with equal amounts of surprise, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just done too. His shocked expression drops from his face after a few moments as he draws in a breath before explaining, never taking his eyes off his chain around your neck.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't think of any other way to stop you rambling," he says with a small tilt of teasing in his voice before his gaze flicks up to look directly into your eyes, a soft look on his features. "I don't mind, looks good on you."

He strokes your arm as he pulls away and without any other words, he walks through the office door and down the stairs, leaving you utterly bamboozled as you stare at the spot where George had just been. George just kissed you. George Weasley had just kissed you.

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur, with paperwork and inventory checks needing your attention and taking up most of your time. You'd run into George a few times over the course of the day and each and every time you had felt his eyes on you before you even knew he was there. The look in his eyes was unfamiliar to you, like he was deep in thought or concentration but it only seemed to be when he caught sight of you which was strange. At one point he had winked at you as you walked through the store after grabbing some lunch for the both of you and it made you feel giddy and restless as there had seemed to be a shift in your dynamic since the kiss.

After your last inventory check was done and recorded in the files, you stepped out onto the shopfloor at 10 minutes before close to ask George about what he wanted for dinner tonight but you stopped short when you saw him laughing with an unfamiliar woman next to the till. They were stood pretty close together and she was laughing at something George was saying as he chuckled along, looking fairly animated in his reply. Your eyes rolled when you saw her laugh and reach out to touch his arm, a move you'd seen over and over again in all those tragic muggle romantic comedies that Hermione had made you endure over the years. You couldn't deny that your stomach sank at seeing the scene before you, George and the pretty woman flirting openly in the near empty shop, especially after he kissed you earlier in the day. You considered just backing away and pretending that you'd not seen what you had but that plan was immediately rendered impossible when you heard your name called out by a very familiar voice. George.

He waved his hand at you, gesturing for you to join them and you willed your feet to move across the floor, trying to force a smile onto your face though inside you were a maelstrom of hurt and rage.

"This is her, y/n," George says, introducing you as you approach them, placing his hand onto your waist as you stand next to him. "She came up with these, bloody brilliant actually," George says, holding out the familiar packaging of the weather in a bottle product you'd created together in your sixth year. "Excellent diversion tactic or just a harmless prank if preferred, a rain cloud will actually follow the receiver around and it creates no mess, except for the unsuspecting victim, they'll be wet through."

Usually, George's praise would have made you blush, especially as his hand held your waist so openly, but in the current circumstance you just felt enraged. The woman he was chatting with had pulled away from him and clearly had a face like thunder at your interruption, though she tried to mask it around George.

"It seems your employees are very talented," she says with a tight lipped smile that certainly didn't reach her eyes. You didn't miss the inflection on the word 'employees' and it pained you not to roll your eyes at her purposeful goading. You shot her a sarcastic smile in return before looking around for Ron but you couldn't see him.

"Employee?" George says questioningly before looking down at you, pulling you in slightly, "my fiancée." You froze, feeling suddenly on the spot at you tried to search for any sign of Ron or Verity in hearing distance but there was no one else around.

The woman seemed to baulk at the new information and all pretence of a smile dropped from her face. She suddenly made up some excuse about having to collect something from Flourish and Botts and quickly hustled out of the store, leaving you and George alone.

You snorted as you watched her exit, "should rename the shop 'Weasleys' Wizard Whizzes, with how fast she just ran out."

George barked out a laugh before checking his watch and flourishing his wand, effectively closing and locking the door. He nudges you with his hip as he squeezes past to get to the tills, opening up the first one that Verity had manned for most of her shift.

"So fiancé Eh?" You said quietly, moving around to the second till to begin cashing it up just as George had with the first one. George gives you a little look as he counts the sickles before jotting down the total on the little piece of parchment beside the till.

"Only one more day before we tell mum, might as well start the rumours," George says with a knowing smirk. The mention of telling Molly made your stomach lurch and it was all you could think of as you counted each galleon, knut and sickle in the till.

"You ready my beloved?" George asks jokingly, reaching for your hand as he puts the last of the cash in the safe.

"What about the accounts?" You ask, looking through the inventory receipts laid out on your desk.

"They can wait till morning, I'm starving, let's go home," George says, taking your hand and begins leading you down the stairs. His use of 'home' gave you a warm, fluttery feeling that made a goofy smile want to cross across your lips, knowing that he meant both of you.

You walked out of the shop and George turned out the lights and locked up with his wand before placing it into his suit jacket pocket, never once letting go of your hand as you walked around to the back of the store and apparated back to your flat.

As soon as you made it back, you walked into your bedroom and threw off your bra just as you did everyday, followed by your socks and jeans, changing into your loungewear straight away. You threw on a big cardigan and walked back out to see George in the kitchen, looking through the fridge.

"Made you a cup of tea Angel," he says with an absent nod of his head as he peruses the ingredients.

"Thank you!" You gush, elated at the prospect of having a warm cup of tea, "I knew there was a reason I'm marrying you," you joked.

George huffed mockingly, closing the fridge as he turns to face you. He'd taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves and you couldn't deny how good he looked right at that moment.

"Not my movie star good looks? Towering height? Flaming red hair?" He jokes, stepping closer to you.

"Hmmm," you pretend to think, dramatically tapping your chin, "no it's definitely the tea."

"Remind me why I'm marrying you again?" He teases, reaching behind you to grab his drink.

"I'd say my impeccable sense of humour and sharp whit but we both know it's for a savvy business move," you replied with a sarcastic grin that falls from your face as you watch George's face sink. He recovers quickly but you definitely saw the stricken expression on his face and you immediately regret your words, though you were of course only stating facts.

You start tea as George nips in the shower and as the rice begins to boil and the chicken comes out of the oven, the kitchen heats up exponentially and you have to take off your cardigan due to the heat, casting it to the wind to land somewhere on the sofa behind you. Just as you reached for the jar of sauce from the cupboard, you saw the bottles of daisyroot draught you'd bought for George a few days ago and pulled it out for him before adding the sauce to the chicken.

"Georgie, I got you some daisyroot, if you want it," you said, turning to face him as you stir the bubbling pan. He's wearing his pyjama bottoms and a black T-shirt as he rubs his hair with the towel, walking barefoot into the kitchen. He opens his mouth to reply but he seems to briefly pause, focusing intently on something around you before snapping out of it a few moments later, looking bashful.

"Great, yeah great, thank you," he stammered, stuttering through his words as he avoided eye contact with you and walked past you to grab a glass from the top shelf. You frowned at his peculiar behaviour but decided not to question in, realising that it might be an adjustment thing from him moving in with you, after all the only person he'd ever lived with as an adult was Fred. Perhaps you shouldn't have bought him the daisyroot, thinking that somehow you might have overstepped.

"Tea's nearly ready," you say, perhaps a little delicately in hopes that you wouldn't upset him but his reaction is normal so you try to put it out of your mind, putting it down to a bad turn.

"This is amazing Angel," George says, taking huge forkfuls of the chicken curry and rice you'd haphazardly thrown together. You smile appreciatively at him and scoop up some of your own food, admittedly taking much smaller bites than George. "So, you ready to tell Mum tomorrow?"

Your eyes shoot up to his with a glare, seeing him smirking at you and you roll your eyes, feeling a lump in your throat and nerves at the pit of your stomach.

"Yeah can't wait," you mutter sarcastically, already anticipating what could happen in your mind, picturing her utter elation, or her outrage.

"You know she'll be happy right?" George says, scooping up another forkful of rice.

"You think we can actually convince them?" You ask, changing the direction of the conversation slightly, not realising how much that question had been playing on your mind. George is quiet for a minute as he considers his answer, taking a sip of the daisyroot before picking up his fork again.

"Don't see why not," he says with a little shrug before turning to look at you with a little smile, "not exactly unheard of is it? Falling for your best friend."

George's words make your stomach flip and roil in numerous ways, the smile on his face only furthering those complicated feelings within you.

"Guess not," you reply, trying to act neutral as you absently eat your food, though you couldn't deny that your appetite had waned dramatically from the topic of conversation. "So, do I wear the ring tomorrow or do I put it on after work?"

"Whatever you want Angel," George says, reaching for his glass again, "Ron's off tomorrow and I doubt Verity would notice anything even directly under her nose, it's just you and me." When you don't reply, silently considering your options, George leans over and grabs your hand on the table, stroking where your engagement ring should be. "Keep in on my chain tomorrow, around your neck and then put it on before we get back to mum's," he suggests, a softness to his voice that made it seem like a hopeful request. You nod and smile at him, still feeling a little conflicted as you tuck into the rest of your meal.

When you climb into bed later that night, your thoughts are consumed by your situation, of your impending engagement and your future after that. Truthfully, you hadn't taken much time to process everything since that first initial day, getting caught up in George moving in and all the things that came along with that. You were already anxious at returning to the Burrow tomorrow, having only been back a handful of times since the war, once for Harry and Ginny's engagement party and a few other dinners that never quite felt the same as before, like something obvious was missing, as it always was these days. Your thoughts were plagued with what ifs and nervous thoughts of what lies after but mostly all you could think of was Fred.

You had to remind yourself that you were doing this for George and for Fred's memory, to keep the business exactly as it had been created, to honour Fred. They were your oldest friends, your best friends and you'd give anything for them to succeed and to be happy and if that meant sacrificing your own life and happiness temporarily, then you'd do it in a heartbeat, regardless of the emotional strain.

You felt shame at lying to the people that had become your second family, that had housed you and welcomed you into their home like one of their own. You felt sad that you were holding back George from finding someone and even more conflicted that the idea of George finding someone else caused you to hurt in ways you couldn't explain. And most of all, you felt immeasurable guilt at your arrangement with George, namely because it felt like you were disrespecting Fred. Moving on, even though you were never officially together, seemed to imply that you had chosen George over him, that you could be so selfish and heartless that you'd marry his twin brother after his death, casting all of your memories away and rendering them insignificant. In your heart, you knew Fred wouldn't see it that way and he'd be proud of you for doing what you were doing for his and George's sake, though your mind wouldn't listen to a word of that, instead choosing to attack you.

As soon as the idea crossed your mind, you pulled back your covers and hauled yourself out of bed to crouch on the floor, reaching for a large shoebox that was stored under your bed, filled with your most treasured items. The top of the box had scribbles all over it in both in pencil and quill ink, with writings and drawings of Weasley products all over in a mixture of yours and the twins' handwriting. You sat and chuckled at the difference between everyone's writing; yours was the neatest and most consistent with cursive tails and joined letters. George's writing was small and a little 'curly', though it was quite neat for a boy's writing. Fred's writing however, fluctuated between indecipherable scribblings and various levels of darkness as if he's taken too much ink on the quill. You ran your fingers over the markings, smiling to yourself, before opening the lid to the shoebox. You didn't do this often, only when you needed to feel him, to be surrounded by memories, like right now.

You pulled out a stack of photos front the top, some magical and some not, seeing you, George and Fred at various ages and places during your Hogwarts years. You looked through them with fondness before coming across a photo of you and Fred at the Yule Ball in your sixth year, both of you dressed in your fanciest clothes. Fred's rust coloured waistcoat matches his vibrant, long hair perfectly and you looked at the photo carefully, thinking of how handsome he looked. Memories of dancing and laughing through the night entered your mind, both with Fred and George after George had stolen you away for a dance when Fred had stepped out to get drinks. Fred had walked straight up to the pair of you pretending to be angry and had tried to steal you back, both of them never missing a step of the waltz choreography as you were passed back and forth between the brothers, their matching red hair just a blur as you spun around.

You couldn't stop the tears that filled your eyes and steamed down your cheeks as you looked at the photo of Fred, trying to remember every little detail about him, the scar on his eyebrow and the light freckles on his cheeks, his smell and his laughter. You put down the photos and picked up the button that was underneath the stack, one of the buttons from your dress that night that Fred had unceremoniously ripped off of you, this singular button popping off and rolling underneath his bed, only for you to find it two months later. You placed the button down onto the photos and pulled out a stack of letters that you'd saved, some from Fred and some from George, not feeling strong enough to be able to read them at the moment.

Just as you pulled out a little stuffed toy of a Niffler that Fred had bought you in your third year and cuddled it into your chest, there was a gentle knock at the door. You called out for George to come in, trying to stash the things away before he could see them and get upset as well as quickly wiping away your tears before looking up to him.

Whatever he wanted from you disappeared the second he saw your tear strained face, crouched over a box he recognised immediately.

"Angel," he says quietly, which only makes more tears fall. He moves like lightning over to you and immediately wraps his arms around you, sitting beside you and pulling you into his embrace so that you were near enough sat in his lap. He holds you, rocking gently as you cry, no longer seeing any reason to hold back your emotions.

"Your T-shirt's all wet," you say in a weak, apologetic voice with a sniffle a few minutes later, pulling away from him slightly. "I'm so sorry, it's not fair of me to do this with you," you say, noticing that his own tears are working their way down his face.

"Not fair? What do you mean?" He says gently, allowing you to pull away but not completely, keeping a comforting hand on you.

"He was your brother, your twin, I-"

"Enough of that," he says with a shake of his head, reaching down to wipe away a tear under your eye, "he meant everything to both of us."

His words make you want to cry all over again but you don't, trying to stay calm as you rest your forehead on his shoulder. His hand strokes your back as you try and calm your breathing, feeling a little embarrassed by your outburst after you'd got it all out of your system.

"I'm sorry, I hadn't considered how hard this must be for you, you and Fred were together for-."

"It doesn't matter," you say, cutting off George, not wanting to explain that you were never really together, "it's not that, not really, I just really needed him."

George gives you a single nod that holds all the weight of understanding, clearly knowing exactly how you felt.

"I remember this," George chuckles, pulling something out of the box delicately. It was a piece of parchment with the ingredients for the ageing potion you'd found in an old potions book that the twins had used to try and enter their names into the triwizard tournament. You'd warned them that it wouldn't work against Dumbledore's age line but they hadn't listened. Attached to the sheet of parchment with an old paper clip was a photo you'd taken of the twins in the infirmary, both of them sporting wild white hair and beards, including bushy eyebrows, their arms around each other with cheesy smiles.

You watched as George reached down to touch an old, faded T-shirt of Fred's that was tucked down into the bottom of the box, an old quidditch T-shirt that had outgrown him by his third year, golden thread stitching up a hole in the collar and another smaller one on the seam of the sleeve. You wore it to bed nearly every night for years, the softness and the smell always so comforting to you.

George's fingers ran across the Gryffindor logo for a moment before catching sight of a keyring he'd bought you from the Quidditch World Cup, the green shamrock dangling from the binder ring, the Ireland logo on the back a little scratched up now but the green, white and orange colours were still as vibrant as ever.

"I bought you this," he said with a smile, placing it into his hand as he inspected it. You nodded eagerly, remembering it clearly. You'd painted the boys faces before leaving the tent with the face paint you'd taken with you and when they'd been to look at the merchandise with the limited money they had, they'd both returned with matching green and white scarves, Fred decked out in an obscenely large hat and George had nervously held out his hand to you, passing you the keyring as he moved you to stand between the twins.

"Knew you would want a momento from the trip but I didn't think you'd appreciate one of those hats like Fred and Ginny had," he says, a fondness in his eyes as he looks at the metal keyring.

"I used it everyday for five years," you said, giving him a little smile. "I caught it on the door one day and I thought I broke it, had to reattach the shamrock and then I switched it out, it means too much to me to get broken or lost."

George looks up at you with emotion filled eyes, a look shared between you both that held so much depth that it stole your breath for a few moments.

"Feels like another lifetime," George says after a few minutes of silence. You made a noise of agreement, flicking your eyes down to look at the box filled with distant memories that were now bittersweet and a little twisted.

"You're wrong, you know."

George looks up at you with a puzzled frown, confused by your words. You breathe out a puff of laughter and smile at him, reaching for the hand that wasn't holding the keyring.

"Fred isn't the only one who means everything to me."

Your words seem to affect George in a way that you hadn't anticipated as a tear comes to his eye, his hand tightening around yours before he pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. You hug him back without question, feeling his soft (and now dry) T-shirt against your skin, his arms around you and the comforting smell of his hair and skin taking over your senses.

He pulls away ever so slightly and for a moment you think he's going to kiss you again, his face so close to yours but he doesn't, slowly releasing you from his hold until you climbed off of him, a little disappointed.

"Right, enough mushy shit, we need a plan, for telling your family," you say, standing up and pulling your pyjamas back into place.

"That was what I came to tell you," George says, moving to stand as well as you bent down to slide the box back under your bed. You turned around and looked at him expectantly, wanting him to elaborate. "Mum sent an owl, said something about a gnome infestation, apparently they're vicious this time of year, dad's been bitten twice just walking to the car."

"Oh."

"I was thinking we could meet them at the leaky cauldron or get a meal out? We'll need to tell them soon," he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Invite them over! I can cook, might need to leave work early to prep everything though," you reply, trying to save the plans you'd made.

"Really? You don't have to but,"

"They need to believe we're really together, what better way then to show them that we're living together," you say before reaching a bump in the road, "your stuff will probably need to move in here though, can't have it look like we're sleeping separately, we're not exactly priests."

George nods, following along with your train of thought. "I could bring more of my stuff over? Litter it about, just for a couple of days?"

You shrug in reply, "I don't mind."

"I'll write to mum now and offer them to come here, take the day off tomorrow, then you won't be rushing around, like I know you will," he says with a knowing smirk that you roll your eyes at.

"But you'll be on your own."

"I'll send Ron an owl."

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