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celtic-crossbow · 4 months

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Blood Ties Chapter 19

Series Masterlist

Warnings: strong depictions of illness; very minor suggestive situations

A/N: Super angsty with generous amounts of cuteness. Reader will eventually get to be a badass. But this chapter focuses on articulating the grave situation.

You were pacing outside the bedroom door, wringing your hands just to keep as many parts of your body as possible moving so you wouldn’t combust. Hershel had insisted you wait outside in case it was something possibly contagious that took Daryl down. Even though you’d spent a lot of time close to him, you were showing no symptoms, so the veterinarian thought it best to be safe rather than sorry.

You could hear Daryl coughing through the door, the sound sudden and harsh, followed by a groan each time that gave you hope that he’d possibly woke up. He’d been dead weight in your arms when everyone had burst in to help. The others had returned just in time, a heavy coat and gloves in tow for Daryl like you had requested. Rick and T-Dog had carried him up the stairs while Lori and Carol put forth effort to keep you back. You had shrugged them off and followed until Hershel stepped in.

“Y/N, you’re gonna pace a groove into the floorboards.” Carol stood by, watching you, refusing to go about her evening duties and leave you alone. “Y/N.”

You finally paused but didn’t look at her. She didn’t get a chance to comfort you before the door opened. Hershel and Maggie stepped out, whispering between themselves in a way that made your chest tighten.

“I’ll go get Beth and Carol to help me make a list. Carol?” The eldest Greene placed a hand on Carol’s arm, giving her enough time to assess you before she reluctantly followed.

“Is he okay?” You asked quietly. You and Hershel were alone outside the door now, the old man’s face smooth with a calm you wished you could muster.

“He likely had a virus that developed into pneumonia from breathing in the cold air. His lungs are full of fluid and inflamed, which accounts for the rattle when he breathes and, of course, the cough.”

“I know what pneumonia it is.” You interjected, a hint of irritation lacing your tone. “What needs to happen?”

“Ideally, we’d start an IV with fluids and antibiotics. If we can get the fluids and manage some oral antibiotics, we can make those work too. He needs those two things for certain. Fever reducers and cough suppressants would be beneficial. I will check for Tylenol in my things, though I fear I may have given you the last.”

You crossed your arms above your belly, hugging yourself tightly, and bounced on the balls of your feet, your brain running on overdrive. “Maggie’s making a list?” Hershel nodded, hanging the stethoscope around his neck. “Okay, I’ll go see when we can leave.”

“Y/N, wait.” For an old man, he sure moved quickly, stepping into your path. You knew what he would say. He would advise you not to go, that you shouldn’t put your baby in danger. For fuck sake, you knew that. “I can’t tell you what to do. We’ve established that. And I know that Daryl means a lot to you.”

“With the utmost respect, Hershel, please get to the point.” Your tone was level though inside, you felt like yourself crumbling. The world just took and took and when you would start to feel safe, it didn’t hesitate to remind you of the devastation it could bring.

“I’d like you to stay with Daryl.” Your rebuttal melted on your tongue when he held up a hand. “I will do everything in my power to care for him but I need to be able to care for you too. Maggie is capable. She’ll have help. Daryl needs you here.”

“I just—”

“There will be no getting him to cooperate if he finds out you left. You know this.”

You threw back your head and let your arms fall. Of course he was right. And once again, you felt useless. “I know.”

“You know, you are doing more for that man in there than anyone in this group ever could hope to do and I’m not just speaking of the child.” He smiled at you with such kindness. It reminded you of your father, your eyes burning. “Remember that.”

You nodded and sniffed. The old man’s footsteps retreated as you leaned your forehead against the door. Daryl was coughing on the other side. Hershel would have told you if you shouldn’t go in. Most strains of pneumonia were not contagious beyond the virus or bacteria that caused them. If you hadn’t contracted the cold or flu that Daryl had before this, it was unlikely you’d be infected now.

Turning the knob, you pushed on the door, steadily controlling how quickly it opened to keep it from making a lot of noise. Daryl was under the blankets, one arm lying across his stomach and the other at his side. His face was tilted away from you.

He wasn’t wearing a shirt but if you ventured to guess, he was likely not wearing anything. Hershel would have checked for bites. The hunter wouldn’t have kept that hidden. You knew that but maybe they didn’t.

His chest rattled and wheezed with each breath, appearing to take a lot more effort than should be necessary. You wondered if they would search for oxygen tanks. Maggie is capable. They would. You needed to stay right there and not try to micromanage. Daryl needed you more.

There was already an old, cushioned chair next to the bed. Perhaps Hershel used it or maybe Maggie moved it there for you. Regardless, you lowered yourself into it, remaining on the edge so you could easily reach Daryl’s hand.

His skin was overly warm and dry, the sound accompanying each labored breath was somehow worse at that proximity. Seeing him so still reminded you of finding him injured back at the farm, how afraid you had been at the thought of losing him. That fear had experienced then resurfaced with a vengeance, squeezing your lungs so tightly that you imagined Daryl could breathe with more ease in that moment.

“Prolly shouldn’t be in here.”

You visibly startled, nearly sliding off the edge of the chair. “Jesus, Daryl, don’t do that.” You had to take a moment to get your heartrate under control before meeting his scarcely open eyes. It was as if whatever energy, whatever stubbornness, that had been keeping him going had just drained out of him. “How’re you feeling?”

“How ‘m I lookin’?” He wheezed. He coughed without opening his mouth until he could get his arm to obey him and cover the lower portion of his face. He inhaled his food like a human vacuum but at least he covered his mouth when he coughed.

“Fair point.” You took his hand again and held it between yours. He didn’t pull away.

“Just need a night an’ I can get back out there.”

You instinctively began to heat up in anger. How could he even think he was fit to be out of bed, much less hunt or take watch? How many times were you going to need to remind him that he needed to care for himself as well? After the initial desire to throttle him had passed, you leaned forward to rest your elbows on the mattress. “We’ve been over this. You can’t run yourself into the ground to take care of me, Thumper, or anyone else. You've done that. You’re really sick, Daryl. And I’m scared.”

“Ain’t gotta be scared.” His fingers wiggled weakly, slowly between your hands. You moved one away so he could squeeze the other. “Ain’t gonna be in this bed long.”

“You’ll be in this bed until Hershel says you can leave it.” You replied sternly. Despite the tears in your eyes, you firmly held his tired gaze.

He challenged you, indignation carved into every line of weariness. When you didn’t waver, he backed down, much to your relief. “Fine.” He coughed again, coming up off the pillow from the force of it. You released his hand and stood over him, grabbing the old pillow from the other side of the bed. Luckily the dust had been beaten from the fabrics before you were in that room. You slid an arm behind his neck to help him sit up a little, placing the pillow behind him. “Could’a done it myself. Ain’t a invalid.”

“I know you can do things yourself. You’re just not seeming to comprehend that you aren't alone anymore. That someone cares for you.” Loves you. You were still standing and took notice of the bowl of water on the table with a piece of fabric hanging over the edge. Very likely Maggie was trying to bring down the fever. Licking your lips, you dipped the damp material into the cool water and wrung out the excess. With the slightest hesitation, you sat down close to his hand and began to dab the feverish skin of his face. Daryl probably didn’t even realize he sighed when his eyes fluttered closed. “Just let me take care of you for once.”

Fever-bright blue reappeared to study you. He didn’t seem upset but the hunter was known for his sudden shifts in temperament. You simply continued what you were doing, moving on to his neck. He coughed weakly, bringing his arm toward his face while you moved yours to make room. The spell was brisk, your limbs trading again but you felt his fingers brush your swollen belly.

After another moment, Daryl grunted with a look of absolute feigned irritation. Though you knew you had won this round, you kept your expression neutral and leaned close to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Thank you.”

His eyes were closed but you didn’t miss the twitch at one corner of his lips. His only reply was another grunt.

The night was nearly unbearable. You had moved to the other side of the bed and sat cross-legged at his side. His breathing was labored and loud, the coughs frequent and painful. The more he rested, the less lucid he became during moments of wakefulness. His skin burned hotter as the fever climbed, your attempts to lower it all for naught.

Maggie and company were set to leave at first light but it wasn’t soon enough. Pleas fell from your lips each time Hershel came to check on each of you. He urged you to try and rest, even offering to bring Carol, Lori, or Beth to sit with the archer while you got some sleep. Your refusal was instantaneous. Eventually, he brought Beth with him and reasoned she could stay to watch over Daryl while you rested beside him, promising to wake you with any changes, good or bad.

You were exhausted, that you couldn’t deny. The baby rolled and kicked, honing in on your anxiousness, Hershel said. It was with a yawn that you reluctantly agreed. The Tylenol had finally been located, and you insisted on helping get Daryl to take it before lying down. He was resistant for only a moment before complying, simply because you started to cry. Hormones and exhaustion were not a great combination.

“You’ll wake me for anything?” You were propped on your elbows, preparing to curl up next to the furnace that was your boyfriend? Partner? Significant other? Whatever. You’d figure that part when he was better.

“Anything at all. I promise.” Beth smiled reassuringly and patted your ankle.

You had been made aware that anything not in use had been packed and was ready in case there was a need to flee. That would leave ample time for Daryl to be moved safely. The team of Maggie, Glenn, and T-Dog would go in search of what was needed, likely to be gone the entire day to venture further out. The local homes and businesses had already been looted. In essence, there was nothing more to be done except keep the archer comfortable and more importantly, alive.

“Okay.” You conceded, rolling onto your side to face Daryl as he coughed, a spasm of pain on his face before he settled again. “I’m right here.” You wrapped your fingers around his and held on loosely, closing your eyes to sink quickly into sleep.

You heard the coughs before registering that your name was being called—no. It was being shouted. You shot straight up, hands immediately fumbling for Daryl. He was upright as well, leaning over his lap and arms braced against his chest to hold the blanket in place, cognizant enough during even such a paroxysm of hacking to hide his marred chest. With both the candle, nearly spent after what most of been a few hours rest for you, and the moonlight reflecting off the snow outside, you could see the redness on his skin, veins and tendons bulging from the force.

“It’s okay. Daryl, it’s—where’s Hershel?” Your eyes remained on him, hand rubbing circles over his upper back. “Beth?” You looked at her then, found her staring at Daryl with an expression you couldn’t quite read. Fear? Hopelessness? The girl flinched at the sound of her name, only then seeming to hear your question.

“He went to check if we have any tea bags.” She had lost so many, so much already. So young, still a child in that world. She was frozen, her eyes beginning to shine with moisture.

Daryl’s fit was calming, each wet, wheezing gasp making the vice around your heart clench tighter. “Beth. Beth, look at me.” You were scared. No, you were terrified of losing Daryl. When the girl swallowed hard and finally turned her head to face you, you smiled with as much reassurance as you could scrape up around the dread stealing your own breath. Whatever you had, you would offer to Daryl. And to her. “He’ll be okay. Your dad’s gonna make sure of it.” You almost failed to hide the quiver in your voice. “Can you go see if we have any more clean scraps of cloth? I’d rather not have him spitting what he coughs up onto the floor.”

Beth nodded and spared one more lingering glance at Daryl, then she left the room.

“Nice.” Daryl said with a desperate inhale. “Almost—believed ya myself.” He was still sitting up with his shoulders slumped, nearly folded onto his lap. You were still tenderly rubbing circles over his back.

“You will be okay.” You whispered, laying your forehead against his shoulder blade, smiling when he didn’t react to your skin pressing against a particularly deep scar. Each breath vibrated where you rested. “Here.” You sniffed and pulled away one of the pillows. “Lay on your stomach. It opens up your lungs.”

The hunter looked over his shoulder tiredly as if considering whether or not it was worth the effort. There was a small jerk of his chin that you perceived as a nod, and then he was turning languidly to stretch out on his stomach. He coughed and buried his face in the pillow. You hadn’t noticed he was shivering before then. The blanket was twisted around his legs, making it more difficult to pull it up to the middle of his back.

“S’miserable.” The words were muffled but decipherable.

“I know.” You were getting to your feet, pressing your hands into the small of your back to soothe the ache there. The baby moved in what felt like a roll. “Thumper’s doing gymnastics.” Daryl turned his head toward the chair on his side of the bed just as you sat down and dipped the cloth into the bowl of cool water, his arm immediately outstretched so that the back of his hand rested on top of your bump. “Let’s see if we can help the Tylenol with that fever.”

When the cool fabric touched the back of his neck, Daryl flinched. With his body fighting to regulate his temperature, it must have been quite the shock. You left it there for a moment before moving to dab the side of his face. Swiping the cloth over his back, you realized he once again was allowing you to see his scars, this time without the tension of rigid muscles that accompanied his shame and self-loathing. Maybe he just felt too horrible to care.

By the time Hershel lightly tapped on the door, Daryl was sleeping. The coughs were still present but with longer reprieves, the hunter so exhausted that the fits barely roused him.

“We found some tea. I regret not mentioning to Maggie that honey could be beneficial.” One plastic cup in one hand was steaming, a torn piece of flannel wrapped around it to ensure he didn’t burn himself. The other hand held a refilled bottle of water, likely from boiling some of the snow.

Your mind drifted to how different this winter was so different from the ones before the turn. Georgia wasn’t usually a state to receive that amount of snow and such low temperatures. Maybe the lack of human activity had altered the weather patterns. Less cars, less pollution, less deforestation. You weren’t an expert but there had to be something different. If he was real, maybe god just saw fit to throw a few more curveballs at your little group. As if the threat of being eaten alive by the dead wasn’t enough.

Shaking your head clear, you brushed your fingertips across Daryl’s forehead. “They left?” Hershel nodded. The sun hadn’t even begun to rise yet.

“Rick seemed to think this was urgent enough to send them out before dawn. I can’t say I’m thrilled to see my daughter driving away into the night but I am inclined to agree with his judgment.”

Daryl could die. It was urgent but for more than any practical reason Rick could suggest. It was so much deeper than that. “He’s asleep. Should I wake him up to drink it?” You placed the fabric back in the water.

“As much as I’d like him to rest, he also needs to avoid dehydration.” He raised the cup slightly. “Peppermint tea is caffeine free but we had nothing to sweeten it. We can only hope he’s thirsty enough to not care. If he’d prefer, I also brought some water.”

Sighing, you nodded and leaned forward to be in Daryl’s line of sight once he awakened. “Daryl. Wake up.” You pulled the blanket up to cover his back. Hershel had seen the scars more than once, you knew that, but you were almost certain Daryl would have appreciated the effort.

With a groan of protest, he opened his eyes to slits. “What?”

“Hershel brought you some tea.”

“Ain’t thirsty.” He closed his eyes.

“Bullshit.” You challenged flatly. “Come on, sit up.”

His eyes opened a little wider then, sheer stubbornness driving him to glare at you. “M’comfortable.”

“Tough titty.”

His expression smoothed out, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Nah, s’real soft.” The hand that laid on your stomach drifted up, the back of his knuckles pressing lightly across the swell of your left breast.

Hershel cleared his throat. Daryl’s hand moved away at a speed you didn’t think he was capable of in his current state. You snorted when the fevered flush coloring his cheeks deepened with embarrassment.

Reaching a hand toward the veterinarian, you waited for him to cross the room and pass off the cups.

“Try to drink as much as you can, son.”

Daryl hummed, likely feeling too awkward to trust his voice. You smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Hershel.”

“No thanks necessary. I’ll be back in a couple of hours to check in, but call down if you need anything sooner.”

“Okay.” The door clicked shut while you sat the cup of water down by the bowl and cloth.

“Why didn’cha—tell me the old man—was in here?” Daryl croaked, making a face so close to a pout that you found it adorable.

You chuckled. “I didn’t think you were gonna feel me up from your sick bed, sir.” He grumbled something incomprehensible but you honestly weren’t paying attention. If he wasn’t willing to sit up, you could have him raise his head just enough for you to help. “If you won’t sit up for me, could you at least lift your head and let me help you drink?”

“Y’ain’t gonna—stop houndin’—me ‘til I do, are ya?” He turned his face into the pillow and coughed, staying there until he was sure it was over.

“Nope. You might as well just do what I ask.” You were smiling sweetly and batting your eyes when he finally moved his face back to you.

“All women nag—this much—or s’mine just special?” Along with the relentless wiggles of your unborn baby, butterflies stirred and fluttered. Even if it was difficult to look past the fact that he struggled to draw in enough air when speaking, you felt your skin—as well as your heart—warm.

His.

“You’re just lucky.” You nearly sing-songed, choosing not to question his verbiage. You knew you were his. He’d been rather clear about that, even if he hadn’t exactly used words to convey it. That was enough for you. Hearing it was just a bonus.

Daryl dragged his limbs and began to push up onto his forearms, but he abandoned the movement before his chest even lifted from the mattress. When he sighed, it was likely from resignation. He lifted and angled his head for you to adequately position the cup and pour a small amount of tea into his mouth.

“Needs sugar.” He commented a moment or two after swallowing. Shaking your head, you offered it again.

It took a substantial amount of time to finish the tea and a few sips of water. The sun’s appearance found you sitting on the edge of the mattress, running your fingers through Daryl’s hair. He had fallen asleep before finishing the tea, waking only just enough to cooperate with your efforts. Hershel had been in once, declaring that while the archer hadn’t improved, he hadn’t worsened either.

When he began to cough, you moved your hand from his hair to his back, rubbing soft circles in an attempt to provide any measure of comfort. Once he had settled, you used one of the flannel pieces Beth had retrieved to clean his mouth and the pillow. Hershel seemed pleased that the cough was productive. It was a disgusting reassurance but you’d take anything.

Daryl groaned and shivered, the fever relatively untouched by the Tylenol. The veterinarian had cautioned you that without the aid of antibiotics and soon, it was likely Daryl’s condition would deteriorate. Your hand stilled on this spine, the rattling of his lungs vibrating beneath your palm. Nearly overcome with an intense notion of foreboding, you turned your face toward the window, almost as if to summon back the team by sheer force of will alone.

“Please hurry.”

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ravens-two · 11 months

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PICK A CARD reading

How do other people see you?

Pile 1 -> Pile 2

Pile 3 -> Pile 4

Decks used: Dark Wood Tarot & Green Witch Oracle

TIPS | BOOK A READING WITH ME | PATREON | LINKTREE | SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC

Pile 1

Strength & Banana

Main Star sign energy: Leo & Cancer

Hi, Pile 1, Banana is the card of duality and so I think that it may be that people see you in very different ways, like you're not very consensual to the general public. The people you meet can't really decipher you, some perceive you to be incredibly nice, while others find you off-putting. However, with this card and Strength I also feel like people turn to you a lot for advice. People find you to be very wise, and most of all, impartial. They trust that you will see things from every perspective and offer the best advice you can. This also means that some people see you as a devil's advocate, because you insist on giving voice to different points of view.

In general, I think that people perceive you as being very outspoken, you don't shy away from conflict, but you don't go looking for it either. It's just that it naturally finds a way to you and you can't help but stand up for yourself and others. I also feel like other people find you to be a very calming presence, I think that it's mix of it just being your vibe, but also that they know that they can count on you to help solve any problem that might come up.

A bit random, but I think that you are known to make dirty jokes and also your sense of humor is very underrated, kind of deadpan and sometimes others can't tell if you're being serious or not.

Other people see you as being very confident in yourself, even if you don't feel like that. There's a sort of confidence that shines through you. Also, you are known as being very loyal to your friends.

Pile 2

6 of Cups & Lemon

Main Star sign energy: Gemini, Scorpio & Cancer

Pile 2 the first thing I'm getting with your group is that you have big Cancer energy. Being with you feels like coming home. I think that the people closest to you feel almost "mothered" by you, I mean this in the best way possible, they know that they can count on you to make them a nice cup of tea, pull out a blanket and hear out their problems. You have a very safe presence.

Some not so nice energy that is also coming through is that some people think that you're stuck in the past. This sentence is coming through very clearly like this to me, but I think that it will apply differently to each of you. It might be a bit literal, like you refuse to embrace new technologies for example or it could be more like you are frequently reminiscing about the good old days. I think that sometimes you are seen as being a bit sad, like filled with ennui if that makes sense. Despite that, I think that you are someone who remembers. You always know your friends birthdays and you remember the little details about their lives, and they appreciate this so so much.

With the lemon card I think that you are very talkative, but only when you feel comfortable. And the interesting thing is, when you get to the stage where you're really really comfortable you start to hold back less and less and you end up being a bit mean with your words. You're not trying to be mean, but they might sting a bit because you're brutally honest. Also, with lemon being the card of cleansing I think that your friends perceive you as being very good at cleaning. I mean this both in a literal sense (lol) and metaphorically. You're good at closing old chapters and cleaning out the old to bring in the new (with a twist too, because you always make space for the memories). You give me this vibe of it doesn't matter if it was good or bad, it matters that it happened.

Pile 3

Empress & Orange

Main Star sign energy: Virgo & Taurus

Pile 3 people see you as being full of life and energy. You are the life to her party, even if there isn't a party, you know how to cheer and pump up the people around you. I also think that people find you very charming and they love to hear you talk. In fact, I think that others love being around you and being around your energy, because it's just so big. Do you know that poem about the orange? In this metaphor you are the orange.

There's also this really interesting vibe that you are very sensual, it could be like sensual as in sexy, but like sensual as in using your senses. You love eating, you love listening to music, you love pretty things. I think that your friends and acquaintances even always ask you about restaurant recommendations and stuff like that. Also, other people love your style and your aesthetic. In fact, they really admire how cohesive you look.

Others also see you as someone who is incredibly creative and that is always filled with ideas. Honestly I think that most of you are either studying arts/design/etc or you work in those areas. You are known for your work. There's also this thing that if one of your friends has a problem they will come to you if they need an out of pocket solution. Like, you always have one. Your friends love your sense of humor, it's always so random and unpredictable. And I honestly think that you might be very popular on social media.

Pile 4

7 of Swords & Pea

Main Star signs energy: Pisces & Aquarius

Hey pile 4, you are the embodiment of chaotic energy. I don't think that anyone can pin you down, and when someone thinks that they have you figured out you immediately prove them wrong. This is big Aquarius energy honestly, not with the chaos, but with the fact that you see things in such a different manner that no one can predict what you are going to do or say next. I also think that you're the type of person to lie for fun (nothing serious of course, but just making up a whole different life to some stranger you'll never see again).

You are filled with ideas and people find you to be a good communicator. In particular I think that you're good with speaking and writing. There's also this vibe that your friends never know when to expect an answer to their texts, it could be immediately or three weeks later.

Your mind is very very busy, always buzzing with new ideas and scenarios and I think that sort of comes across to other people who think you are a bit scatterbrained. Also, people think that you are very smart. I am also getting this vibe that you have a sharp tongue, especially when it comes to social commentary. Sometimes you'll make a sarcastic comment about something around you, but not everyone will get it and those people find you a bit weird. You may get lost while telling a story, going on multiple tangents to explain your train of thought. And I also think that you get distracted easily. Some people find that a bit annoying, but your friends find it endearing.

There's this type of trickster energy here with the 7 of Swords so it might be that you are known for pulling pranks on your friends. Your presence is very fun, but sometimes a bit unsettling because again, no one knows what you're going to do next.

#pac reading #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a picture #tarot reading #tarot

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pascals-doll · 3 months

Text

DISPO

ellie williams x reader

『••✎••』 finally, time for date night. ellie takes you out to the busy city for a beautiful dinner that turns unraveling in many different ways. | WC: 9.0K

ೀ THIS IS A SERIES | FOR ALL PARTS GO HERE

SERIES MASTERLIST

ೀ PSA I LEFT YALL ON A CLIFFHANGER SORRY 👀 PLS DONT HATE ME

ೀ HEAVY FORESHADOWING ID SAY 😭 dispo is such a masterpiece of a song like can i eat the song ?

ೀ description: MODERN AU! CONVERSATIONS ABOUT HARD TOPICS (immigration, family death, bonding over trauma), HOMOPHOBIA AT THE END! IF THIS TRIGGERS U I ADVISE U NOT TO READ!TOXIC BEHAVIOR FROM EX SUGGESTIVE CONTENT ONLY! latina!reader, heavy description of reader having bronze/tawny skintone, mentions of smoking weed, mentions of reader’s insecurities, reader speaks spanish!, bff!dina, latino parents chismiando, brief background on toxic relationship, FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, immense flirting, heavy makeout sesh, groping, no use of y/n (use of mama, bonbóm)

CHAPTER THREE

ellie made her way back to the repair lot like she had just won the lottery.

all she did was throw the plastic store-bag onto Joel’s work desk the second she got back into the garage, completely ignoring Joel.

she immediately whipped out her phone to open your contact that she had been dying to open ages ago.

“earth to ellie williams-miller!” joel semi-shouts in an attenpt tone get her attention.

ellie was too busy typing her fingers away.

gatúbela 💋

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃ ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

u will be seeing me there as a customer alot more ⤶ 6:00 PM

✉️ ᴮᵉᵉᵖ..! one messageˎˊ˗

6:02 PM ⤷ i can get used 2 u as a regular ;)

ellie was cheesing at her phonescreen like a kid with their first phone.

can i call u later tonight? ⤶ 6:04 PM

6:05 PM ⤷ yess ill lyk when i get off work

get home safe ⤶ 6:06 PM

6:07 PM ⤷ ay ay captain 🫡

you both went home that night to enjoy a 3 hour phone call.

you both didn’t get any rest that night.

every morning felt like a blessed morning, especially waking up to a text from miss Ellie Williams-Miller.

you had learned her full name when you exchanged each other’s a few nights ago during your endless phone call with the inamoratà.

she was chivalrous and sweetly coltish.

she captivated you in such a manner, you never thought you could feel so whole before.

she had you smitten and you didn’t even notice.

Dina didn’t miss a single second of every moment. the way she couldn’t tear you away from your phone even during your shared daily binge of ‘Vanderpump Rules’ together.

Dina will never forgot that night you came back to Dina’s apartment from working at the convenience store. you had came through the front door, dropping your purse on the ground before screaming like bloody-murder.

Dina ran out of her room frantically to find her bestfriend capering around before twirling with her hands in the air “okay okay! just needed to get that out ma’system!” you exhale out, stopping in place like you were im the middle of a stage; performing.

you connected your excited eyes with Dina’s “are you on crack?” Dina asks you jokingly.

you chuckled “you won’t believe who just happened to walk up into store!” your question being rhetorical as your face beamed as you throw yourself onto her couch.

“i’m listening!” you spent the entire night, staying up and talking to Dina about how Ellie just managed to run into where you work.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

all of your mornings for a month now have consisted of dulcet messages from ‘green eyes’. you refer to the contact you gave her.

you would wake up and do your usual morning routine which now had one extra add-on to every part of your routine.

each moment was complimented by a graceful reminder of Ellie as you woke with a ping from your phone; knowing it was her.

she would call you while you made breakfast and ever since, she face-timed you once on accident in the middle of your morning toke; she now calls every 12 pm to smoke with you through face-time.

you both only really had time to talk as you both got busy quickly. especially since you learned that working at Joel’s car-shop is very time-consuming, ellie went on about one day.

Ellie moved to your hometown from Jackson five years ago which completely explained the country accent she carried in her voice.

she emphasized on how Joel got a job opportunity to be able to open up his own shop with his brother that had moved out here with his wife.

she told you about how moving to help him by working at the car-shop taught her a lot of patience. Ellie was very patient and percise about the things she did, it became a habit to do even outside of work.

ellie was probably also one of the greatest listeners you’ve ever met because when she listened, she understood.

she understood you.

even if it was through the phone, depicting her facial expression through a pixelated screen. ellie’s facial expressions never faltered from intentive and enthralled.

she understood the fact that when you told her you lived with your parents still.

how personally, you just couldn’t call all those times she asked as you were dying to answer.

she never pushed for questions out of you, allowing you to give her any information you chose to give her.

she just complimented you almost like it was perfect.

although she approached you with a more somewhat open-book while you reserved yourself a bit more, Ellie didn't mind it at all.

she was patient. very patient.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

you both had planned to go out together ages ago but it felt like the universe just loved to fuck with you.

the day you were supposed to go on the date with Ellie. you had spent your entire morning on Face-Time with Dina, trying to find out what to wear.

you had told your mom you were going out with a new friend you made last night. of course, latino parents cant help the chisme.

“si si, no, estoy feliz de que ella empiece a sentirse mejor después de ese chico ay,”( yea yea, no, im glad shes starting to feel better after that boy, ay)

“sí, saldrá con un amiga esta noche, está muy emocionada!” (yes, shes going out with a friend tonight, shes really excited!)

why was this bad? well because somehow-someway during all the chismiando between your family, it got to your ex’s family.

this later on resulted to him showing up to your work, trying to find you to talk fifteen minutes after you had just clocked out. you end up getting a call from your tía saying that "he needed to talk to you" which only made your heart anguish.

needless to say, the families were still in-close contact even with the messy break-up. the only reason is because you basically grew up with your bitch-ass ex.

he was your family friend for so many years, but it was so cute and innocent the little crush you had on him for years. you even went to the same schools together; both of your parents wanted you together, in a sense.

it was planned and as you got older, you began to realize.

he was your first everything.

anything you could think of, he was the one to cross it off your list. you can't say you regret it or anything because it was a love that festered for ages between the both of you. you just couldn't compare your relationship with him to much other romantic experiences.

he was all you knew.

while you all the people you knew were hooking up, experiencing different 'situationships'.

you didn't feel left out because it wasn't the 'hooking up and different talking stages'. it was the fact that the times that your ex did leave you; stating he needed a 'break' to do god knows what...

the 'men'.... if you could even call them that by the way they handled themselves. they weren't worthy, not even a moment of your time.

it was tiring and you found your eye-candy would be women, but you were too oblivious to know. you wouldn't realize the lingering stares and double-takes you would do whenever you found a woman attractive without thinking.

that being said, before time came to close of going out on that date with the woman you had growing adoration for because of how panicky you grew.

you hated breaking the news to Ellie, having to tell her family came up although you ended up calling her an hour later till midnight.

you were beyond alarmed now, knowing your ex had tried to reach you.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

regardless of all the 'bullshit' and Ellie picking up extra hours at the shop, you both finally were going on that date.

a part of you was slightly grateful for the delay, you got to be in her presence more; getting the chance to learn more about her.

you had spent the whole week preparing yourself. you didn't need any help getting ready, you were a pro in that department. you were mentally preparing yourself; preparing yourself to have a good dinner like you've never done that with someone before.

you've been on dates, but you wouldn't even pack your appetizer to go, not even getting a proper entree because you knew you would leave the table and that brainless moron before you even got your first bite in.

if we were to talk about dates with your ex, that is one thing you for sure both didn't do on dates; was talk. you would just sit there in silence enjoying the meal that you didn't have to pay for, that is one thing you will miss.

green eyes 🍀

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃ ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

goodmorning stinky ⤶ 11:11 AM

✉️ ᴮᵉᵉᵖ..! one messageˎˊ˗

11:11 AM ⤷ foodmorning smelly

⤷ goodmorning** am i ur wish ☺️

corny ahh ⤶ 11:12 AM

but yes u are will u make it come true :3 ⤶

11:13 AM ⤷ u will jus have to find outt wont ya

ouu surprises u rlly tryna butter me up ⤶ 11:13 AM

11:14 AM ⤷ if u probs punched me

⤷ id lowk like it

??? 😭 shut up idiot ⤶ 11:15 AM

when shall i be ready by ma’am ? ⤶

11:15 AM ⤷ its hot when u speak like we in old times

⤷ how long do u need mama ?

ur making me blush oh my oh my ⤶ 11:17 AM

jkjk i get off work today at 2:30 ⤶

just an hour will be good :) is 4:30 okay with u ? ⤶

11:18 AM ⤷ cus of ur sarcasm i give u 15 mins 🤗

⤷ 4:30 is perfect i dont have work today so im all urs

haha hilarious ⤶ 11:19 AM

thank you for the ride :) i rlly appreciate it ⤶

11:20 AM ⤷ shhh

⤷ ofc like a real gentlewoman ‼️✂️

⤷‼️‼️*** THAT WAS NOT ON PURPOSE

⤷ im gonna kms

oh ellie baby u need a new phone or sum ⤶ 11:20 AM

but yes a real gentlewoman indeed ✂️ ⤶

i gtg :( ill ttyl green eyes ⤶

11:21 AM ⤷ ihy but lmk gorgeous

⤷ ill see u soon

💋 ⤶ 11:21 AM

“jesus! back up, you lookin’ mad scary” Dina’s voice rings through the speaker of your phone, bringing your attention back to the Face-Time you were on with her.

you let out a playful scoff as you got up from laying down on your bed "let me guess, Ellie?" Dina chimes in as she sees the way you were cheesing at your phone.

"yeah....." you let out a pleasant sigh like some toddler who finally got the ice cream they spent all day begging for.

"yeah-if you don't take your gay ass to work" Dina giggles out, mocking your tone at first "oh whatever! I'll call you later, pendeja" you giggle out with her before hanging up the phone and getting ready for work.

you swallowed the uneasy gut feeling in your stomach, putting music on before you began to put your hair up. you weren't going to let your paranoia and emotions get the best of you.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

work was longer than expected, you practically watched the clock tick with anticipation. you couldn't wait to clock out, quite literally run home, and get dolled up.

you don't remember the last time you got so euphoric over a date, the overwhelming excitement and nervousness brining your mental back getting ready for your first date ever; except you felt yourself even more overjoyed than the first.

since you were a kid, you loved dress-up. if it was one thing for certain about yourself, it was what you wanted and how you wanted it. you carried yourself in your appearance, making it your amor.

even in your most weak moments, you will admit that your look never failed to loom out. people were never ever able to tell when you were depressed or angry; masked perfectly by your bold makeup and clothing.

your outstanding clothing making up for your lack of self-assurance, never letting anyone even think for a second that you weren't full of experiences due to your confident personality.

people wouldn't be able to understand you, simply due to the fact that although you haven't lived much to find your inner identity. you knew who you who you were still in some imbalanced messy way. it didn't matter to a person at surface level because of your menacing demeanor, automatically making them nervous under your tigress gaze.

your ex began to hate it at some point as he found your vixen-self threatening to his masculinity. after two years of being together, you noticed how he began to try to control what you wear and how you did your makeup by trying to have a 'say' in what you wore.

when you never let it happen, you picked up on his automatic distance and at some point, even beginning to slut-shame you as way of insulting you.

the only reason you didn't like it was because of how you could pull anyone away from him, taking all his cheating ways away.

this feeling Ellie erupted in your soul, it was better than all your first's.

once you arrived home, walking in through the front door as you quickly greeted your parents before making your way up to your bedroom. you took your phone and sent a message to Ellie, letting her know you were home.

you immediately got to calling Dina as you began to shuffle through all the clothing in your closet. you wanted to wear something valiant but not flashy.

you began to throw out of their hanger's different assortments of bottoms, dresses, and different shirt combinations; soon your floor was covered in different clothing ideas.

"I don't want to wear something that makes her think I'm a hooker" you explain to your best friend through the phone as you showed her the past 10 different outfit options.

"girl, the options weren't even that raunchy! hmm, I say-the cheetah dress!" Dina affirms pleasantly through the phone screen. you pick up the skin-tight tube-slip dress to try it on once more.

it was covered in the cheetah print pattern, it made your body eccentricate as the dress hugged your curves and stopped at perfect mid-thigh length.

the dress brought out all your features perfectly. the print pattern complimented your tawny skin and stopped right above the chest, hugging your torso completely.

it was simple yet a statement piece.

you thought it wasn't too party-like nor too fancy while you checked yourself out in your long mirror "that's the one! pair it with a coat!" Dina cheers as you spin around for her in the camera's view for her approval.

"okay with what shoes!?" you ask you began to look for a coat to match with your dress.

Dina continued to help you put your entire outfit together. she helped you end up choosing your black platform slip mary-janes with a beige jean coat that had furry lining inside of the jacket.

you began to do your signature makeup look, your eyes never without the thick long black wing as your golden highlighter created a halo for your natural illumination from your bronze tone.

you added a muted pink blush to your face to cause the perfect hue on your cheeks before sealing your makeup look all together with your iconic cocoa lipliner, applying your lip combo.

you started looking through all your gold jewels, trying to find decide which jewelry would be perfect for this outfit. you choose these gold earrings that dangled, scattering your fingers with thick gold rings, and your neck being complimented by your golden rosario's and small shining medallions.

by the time you were ready, 4:30 rolled around in no time.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

you puffed on the joint that you hastily rolled in a way to calm your nerves before Ellie arrived, you were leaning against the bay window inside your living room as you dozed off into the front street of your house through the open window. you began to think about all the possible ways this night; alone with her could go.

just the thought alone could have shivers running up your spine as your stomach was queasy with butterflies. once you finished your joint, you seen a black car pull up to the front of your house, not even two minutes later; your phone rang out a ping.

you quickly checked yourself out once more before retouching any makeup you felt needed. you made your way to your front door, kissing your mom goodbye before walking out.

you felt and heard your heart pound against your chest with each step, you were thankful for that smoke break or else you would've been sweating right now. your body felt hot and flushed; you haven't even seen the woman yet.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

Ellie smiled at the little notification of your message from only a couple minutes ago before staying keeping an eye on your front-door.

Ellie was trying her hardest to swallow her nerves, she could only reminisce on the all the trouble she went through to even get an outfit that she thought was 'good enough'.

she made a mess of her room before just shoving it all to the side as she began to straighten her hair and throwing it up into a lazy half up-half down.

as Ellie was lost in thought, she peeped from the corner of her eye your silhouette from outside of her tinted car window get closer. Ellie wasted no time in opening her car door, stepping outside.

she left her door open as she made her way over to you.

the second Ellie's eyes fell onto you, it felt like the entire world stopped.

gorgeous wasn't even enough of a word to describe the way you looked.

you looked purely otherworldly, like you had been descended from Cleopatra herself.

Ellie was at a loss of words, your beauty completely striking the words right out her mouth as her steps haltered at the front of the passenger car-door. your prepossessing glamour completely capturing her as her eyes sparkled at you in awe.

but she wasn't the only one who was drooling.

your lip began to tingle in pain as you bit onto it, trying to stop your mouth from falling open as you shamelessly gawked at her. you didn't even notice her checking you out as you were doing the exact same thing.

Ellie was wearing a white crop top that stopped at the lower of her stomach, completely hugging her chest as the muscles of her arms flexed a bit as her hands were tugged away into the pocket of her fitted corduroy dress pants that bagged at the bottom. it was complimented by a black belt with a silver thick buckle, her semi-long crop top flowing above her dress pants perfectly.

she had an assortment of silver rings decorating her long fingers as her tattooed arms had a couple of different bracelets hugging each wrist and her infamous converse.

"oh fuck" you couldn't help but let your thoughts be audible as the light of the sunset now completely dawned on the both of you.

the way the sun sparkled onto her freckles, gleaming her green-hazel eyes while her hair was thrown up into the cutest hairstyle. Ellie was completely mesmeric, craving her completely.

your out-loud thought seemed to snap Ellie out of her own mesmerized daze. she threw you an awkward smile before opening the car-door to the passenger "just for you" Ellie slys out, trying to stop her breath from hitching.

you made her a complete mess under your gaze.

the sentence that fell from her delectable lips chimed through your ears like the melody of a song.

"why thank you" you say sweetly, your smile being slightly shy as you ducked into the passenger seat of her car as Ellie made her way back into the driver's seat.

"soo where are you taking me?"

you question once she was sat in the seat with a smile on your face "there's this fancy place-Joel recommended it t'me, it has a good selection of different cuisines." Ellie explains, her attention completely on you as her eyes can't help but continue to rake throught your body.

your heart fluttered, she really put alot of effort into this evening. it's not like you didn't think that she wasn't going to take you out somewhere nice but you just didn't think she would put so much thought by even going to ask Joel for advice.

you found is so sweet how she thought ahead and methodically by even choosing a place that didn't have a specific selection of food; not wanting to force you to eat anything you didn't like.

you were an observant person just as much as Ellie was, it was one thing that made you guys connect on a different level. you guys couldn't hide from each other as you both felt every emotion that radiated off each other.

she cared, she put everything together carefully.

"if that's not okay! we-we can go anywhere you want!" Ellie grew nervous as you stared at her, scared you weren't going to like her plans "oh! shut up Williams, i love it." you giggle out, reaching a hand over to put a finger in between her lips naturally before removing it but still slightly leaned into the atmosphere of her seat.

"you look-phew-there isn't even a word for how stunning you look" the compliment was sincere as she leaned into you more, closing the space between you two; not even thinking as she just completely soaked you in like her you were her biggest blessing.

she made you fall into putty with the flattery Ellie rushed into you "it's sexy knowing that we both smoked before this" you joke out, trying ease the overwhelming emotion fulfilling your insides as you could smell the mango cigarillo on her from the blunt she smoked earlier.

Ellie chuckles out which is only music to your ears "you look really amazing, els" your tone sheeped out as you continued the close intimacy between the both of you. the nickname fell from your lips like you had been saying it your whole life.

the tension was thick and oozing.

Ellie bit her lip in between her teeth as she couldn't help but give a big smile before looking away from your enchanting eyes.

"you ready for our date?" Ellie boosts like a little kid, it was the first time she had put so much effort into taking care and taking anyone out. she used to mainly go on cafe dates or to the movies because you barely had to talk.

this time was completely different, you were like a diamond in a sea of rocks.

Ellie felt the need to give you the best of her.

"I've never been more ready for anything."

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

you finally pulled up to the restaurant, the valet at front leading you to the reserved parking lot once the valet person handed Ellie her ticket. you insisted on paying for parking, but Ellie didn't even give you a meer second to dig into your black mini purse after making the suggestion.

"its only $20, don't worry about it" was all she said, her hand touching yours reassuringly.

you would never know it, but each extra hour Ellie picked up slaving away at black grease and car parts was going to be worth every penny spent on you; together tonight.

the car ride was beyond delightful as you and Ellie practically shared the same music taste, even putting her onto some old Spanish songs as she admired the way your voice sung each lyric; even trying to say a couple of the lyrics as you encouraged her.

"did you learn English or Spanish first?"

Ellie asked more questions about your ethnic background.

yes, she knew where your parents were from since you told her during one of the many Face-Time calls, but she wanted to know more about your personal experiences with your culture.

you thought it was sweet the blithesome demeanor she had when indulged into you every time you spoke.

you both bounced off each other, your energies working together as the natural flow of your egos meet like magnets, there was no worry about how you both looked to one another, no worries that anything you might say or do is wrong; Ellie didn't make you second-guess your own being as you didn't make Ellie over-analyze everything.

you both brought out the best and drowned out the hardest parts of the both of you.

the restaurant was located inside of a wide outside mall that had an area full of different dining places.

when Ellie parked the car in the open parking lot, she got out of the car and immediately went to open your door like the 'gentlewoman' she was.

she grabbed your hand as you put your two feet out, stepping each one down elegantly onto the outside pavement as her hand helped you up and out of her car before proceeding to shut the door closed for you.

you smoothed out your dress once you stood up as Ellie's hand rested on the small of your back comfortingly, your stomach was doing cartwheels and all types of fucking flips.

you both walked in through the front doors, close together as you are immediately greeted by the hostess.

"Hello there, good evening! do one of you have a reservation with us tonight?" the blonde woman asks as she smiles sweetly between the both of you "Yes, that'd be me. It's under 'Ellie Miller'" she replied.

you smiled at how she shorten her name which she only looked over to return sheepishly "perfect! follow me" the blonde hostess exclaims as she grabbed two menu's and began to lead you to your table.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

your table was a semi-booth, more tucked to the corner yet still in the semi-center of the extended restaurant walls.

the table was decorated with lit candles and a small-dangly chandelier above the both of you. the restaurant had fake vines all around the shelving's and ceiling. the place had a classical fairy-burrow esque to it.

the lighting was warm and dim, not overpowering the both of you at all as the rest of the restaurant blended into a shadow by the strong illumination from only the lit candles at your table, highlighting the both of you for only each other.

"I absolutely adore this place, thank you for taking me here." you were slightly awe-struck. sure, Cheesecake Factory is alright, but this wasn't just about the location.

it was how she was the one to take you here.

"I'm happy you like it, it looks better than in the pictures" Ellie jokes out as she held the menu in her hand, not even looking at it. you giggle out, playfully smacking the small of her hand.

you both began to scroll through the menu together, going over each thing as Ellie asked for your intel for anything your finger lingered on.

Ellie was also slightly becoming indecisive between the options she had her eyes on. almost naturally, you scoot closer into her, legs completed pushed up against each other, and snaking an arm around Ellie without a thought.

as you were helping her choose the waiter finally arrives.

"Hello ladies, how can i help you-" the waiter stops talking the second you both look up at him.

he was a tall man that had dreads falling down his face, concealing it slightly as you couldn't quite get a good look at his face, his tall frame and elegant work suit only in lighting's view.

you could see by the glint of the candles, the way his expression changed but his eyes weren't peeled onto the both of you. they were trained onto you.

there was this unruly tension that began to form and engulf the atmosphere.

you could feel the way his eyes glared into you, only you. you watched through the shitty lighting how his forehead creased, and his eyebrows snapped together before abruptly clearing his throat.

"So sorry! Good evening are you ready to order?" the tone wasn't the same although he excused himself, there was this dead and forced tone talking to the both of you.

you watched the way his eyes fell onto Ellie, feeling uneasy about the whole thing.

"mhm your excused, i would like the Chicken Tikka-Masala with seasoned rice. then for my girl-" Ellie tone came off as stand-offish, she wasn't oblivious to the actions of the waiter for whatever reason for his actions.

she gave you a soft smile as you began to order your dish of choice.

the waiter didn't say anything, completely noting down your order in silence as your eyed burned into him. there was something about him that itched you. not in a good way at all.

you tried to focus your vision and brain on him while trying not to alarm Ellie, it was like it was on the tip of your tongue.

he seemed familiar, he felt familiar.

your mind couldn't put a pin on it but this subconscious familiarization with him slowly begins to bubble a small anxiety inside you.

just like that, he walks away; not giving a second glance to either of you.

'if i could've only read his nametag' you thought.

"poor waiter was checking you out" Ellie teases causing you slightly giggle but you were too alarmed to give a genuine reaction.

that man was definitely not checking you out.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

Ellie was quick to make all that anxiety and harrowing thoughts vanish within the blink of your eye.

your meals were brought out to you with no problem by some polite woman, completely forgetting about the man as now all you could think about was the woman you were on this splendid date with.

the conversations were deep as you both died to know more like you were each other's favorite subjects. the both of you were so enthralled between the conversations you shared and the growing sexual tension.

you felt at such ease with her, Ellie could even help you open up about topics that you considered "hard to talk about" for the longest.

it was your very first date with her and you were already each-other's open-books.

you opened up to her more about your family. you told her about how your parents were immigrants and the second you turned 18 and your older sister was 25 and wanted to start her family; they put your childhood home under your name which is why you still lived with them.

you felt safe as you unraveled yourself. she listened to every family story, even the 'bad' ones.

you bonded over your family businesses and passion for one another's hobbies. you learned how she loved to play the guitar besides art, she also knew a lot about naturalism and camping.

you loved hearing her talk about her love for the outdoors, one of her stories being how she took a road trip with Joel once all the way to California for one of her birthday's; just so she could see the ocean.

Ellie opened up about how it was like growing up without ever getting to know her mom due to her passing.

you both didn't feel the need to hide the ugly from each other as you both indulged in it, not a single ounce of judgement or need for questioning.

you both just heard each other as your souls sang together.

you even enjoyed your meal in silence, usually hard topics could create a uneasy or awkward tone for the rest of the night but instead you both thought your meals were even more delightful.

there wasn't an ounce of awkwardness in the silence while you enjoyed your Indvidual meals; or insecurities between the two of you as you both made each other feel imperfectly perfect.

"wanna try some of mine, bombón?" the new little term of endearment fell naturally from your lips which caused the softest pink hue spread over Ellie's cheeks, barely visible.

"I don't know what that means but I love it." Ellie beams as she answers your question with the action of leaning her head closer for the spoonful of your food that you were holding on your utensil.

you giggle out as you feed her the spoonful as you take her in while she was leaned in this close to your face.

as you got closer to finishing your meals, you both reminisced about high school years. Ellie told you about how she picked up basketball which has the fault for the number of wife-beaters she owns. you told her about how you used to play volleyball. you were actually the best on the team because you were one of the only ones who knew how to do a proper carry. you only did volleyball till your senior year where Dina convinced you to join the Dance Team with her.

"oh, I need to know about those dance days!" Ellie cheered out as she gave you a playful smirk "well, where did you think I picked up those little moves from?" you leaned into her ear as you spoke lowly, your tone turning suggestive. frankly, as much as you hate to admit it. you aren't stupid to the fact that just Ellie giving you one look had your arousal, as a matter of fact, dripping.

Ellie was on the exact energetic page as you, the hazel in her eyes darken as her eyes pour into you "ah I see, I wonder what else you can show me" Ellie shamelessly flirted with you.

if both meals were done; Ellie was ready to handle the check and get you all to herself.

"depends baby, whatcha' tryna see?" your tone was laced with pure sexual insinuation as your lips brushed against her ear, causing shivers down her spine. Ellie leaned herself into you more before turning her head to be face-to-face with you; your lips brushing together.

you couldn't hear the way your hearts palpitate together in sync, only hearing each other's own individual hearts boom as you both become insatiable for each other.

"is it okay if I fix myself up in the restroom while you pay? will you meet me there?" your tone was only seductive and teasing as you took your hand to caress her lower thigh.

"go on mama, don't worry" her voice was barely above a whisper against your lips, you smile against them slightly before pecking them softly.

all she could do was watch as you. the way your ass hugged that dress as your tits perked up as you sat up, the way your bronze legs stepped away from her while you made your way to the ladies room.

Ellie eyes that were trained on your body walking away from her was obstructed by the tall waiter from before. this time he was standing closer, and Ellie got to get a better look at him.

"ready for the check?"

"yes, that would be amazing."

Ellie couldn't help but give the man a mean stare at the man as she signed off the check before placing her card into the checkbook.

he left without a word but took a double look, noticing how you werent sitting next to her.

once the check made its way back, Ellie didn't waste any time on making her way to that restroom.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

while you were in the restroom, you quickly touched up your lip combo; hoping for it only get ruined.

soon enough, Ellie walked through the restaurant bathroom door. you made eye contact with her before walking off into a stall. you shut the stall door behind you, but you didn't lock it.

of course, Ellie follows; this time actually locking the door behind her. she stalked her way closer to you as you were up against the fancy bathroom wall, shit even the stall had its own mirror.

she got closer and closer to you, only speaking up once she was face-to-face with you again.

"for someone who's never been with a girl before, you seem to know the gay agenda very well" Ellie couldn't help but joke although her face had a smirk smeared all over it.

the little sly remark that left her lips caused your cheeks to flush.

your arms wrap around Ellie's neck, pulling her closer to you "I've never been actively gay, but I should've known when I used to watch "The L word" when everyone was asleep in high school..." you grin, you were kind-of joking.

Ellie lets out a laugh "oh yeah mama, you are definitely into women." you smack her chest teasingly with a smile which she only softly grips your wrist, pulling you into her. now chest-to chest as your faces skim against each other.

♫₊˚.🎧 now playing: DISPO

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

"kiss me" it wasn't a question; it was more like a wish.

a wish you knew Ellie would grant whenever you wanted.

"your wish is my command, mama."

♫ ¿qué le habrán hecho a esa bebé? que está rebelá

no le gustaba antes prender

y ahora sin miedo quema

¿será que terminó con él? ♫

Ellie's lips waste no time in hastily meeting yours. the kiss was automatically filled with passion, finally relieving all the tension that oozed between the two of you for the whole evening; falling into the night.

Ellie's tongue swiped against the bottom of your lip softly causing you to let out a stifled whimper, she pulls away momentarily "ya'like that?" she teases, she knows you like it. she wants to hear you say it.

♫ ta dura la bebé, puesta pa ella, se le ve

que ella sabe lo que tiene

por cómo lo mueve ♫

you aren't the type to submit easily but god this time, every part of you was ready to do everything and anything she told you.

you still aren't the type to submit even as her hands raked up and down your back as her tongue loosens your lips ever-so-softly.

"mhmm" you let out threw a bit lip as your eyes hazed out as her lips continued their blissful synchronized rhythm.

"use your words" Ellie divulged.

"i-i like it when you kiss me-when y'kiss me, els" your voice fainted out as it slightly whimpered with the pecks that were being left alongside your face, down to your neck.

'when y'kiss me, els' your whimper replayed in her mind over and over again, like a broken record.

♫ salió a la disco a pasarla rico, a janguear

ahora está dispo, pero no cualquiera le da ♫

Ellies hands went from holding your back to now squeezing the thick flesh of your hips as her clothed corduroy leg came in-between your exposed legs while she leaned into you, burrowing her face into your neck.

Ellie's pecks quickly became open-mouthed kisses as she basically attacked your neck with her lips. she was determined on finding your sweet spot with each kiss she left on your neck, tainting you with her.

every single little suck and kiss from Ellie was a choked moan or luscious snivel. you couldn't help but squirm in her encaged embrace as her palms were flat against the wall, on each side of your head.

"aye milagro!" you lewdly moan out, you removed one of your arms from around Ellie's neck to cover your mouth with your hand. you could feel the smirk that took over her lips once she pulled away.

there it is.

♫¿qué tú crees, bebé?, a ver, olvídate de él

cho-cho-chócame, yo me pierdo en tu piel ♫

she attaches her lips to the nape of your neck which is where lied your sweet spot, softly sucking as you rustled your body against her.

the fabric of her corduroy pants rubbing the slightest bit against your soaked panties.

"hmm, ya'like that too?" Ellie lets out a content hum as she pulls away, continuing her teasing innuendos.

Ellie was a gentleman; she wasn't going fuck you on the first date.

but she knew to bring you otherworldly pleasure beyond just the sexual level.

"mm-yes!" your moan was rushed and hushed as you spoke against your mouth. you loved anything Ellie did to you like a drug, like you had gotten a taste of your own personal crack-cocaine.

Ellie's hands have now made their way to your ass, fondling the flesh through your tight printed dress as it began to ride up with each squirm you let out.

"tell me mama, has he kissed you here?" the question was sincere, Ellie wanted to learn about all of you.

"shut up els, please-do it again" you pleaded as the smallest pout fell upon your lips yet your cat-eyes burning into Ellie's dark and hazed out eyes.

"what did he do to you mama, makin' you fight all this pleasure? he ain't know what to do with all this, hm?" Ellie's demeanor became slightly dominant.

"what makes you think you can you handle me?" you put up a challenge as you picked up on the change, liking it.

she was right, he had never paid delectable attention to the sweet nape of your neck like she just did, but you would make Ellie earn that information.

Ellie didn't say anything, she only harshly squeezed your ass causing a dirty smile to tug your lips as you slightly spread your legs for her knee to fall into your arousal, pressing the forming heat between your legs against her clothed knee.

"believe me mama, once you're all mine. you gon'forget all about him-" she began to ramble against your skin as her lips brushed against each exposed area.

"I can't get emasculated by the fact my baby so strong, the way that body moves-" Ellie continued, squeezing your ass once more when saying "that body" as she pulls you even closer to her, completely off the bathroom wall and chest-to-chest with her.

"I'll get lost in all of your power and beauty, m'not no dumbass-i'll be your throne." Ellie devoted herself to you.

"and exactly for all that, our time will be a lot more special than this restaurant bathroom" Ellie finishes, leaving one last peck on your neck and shoulder before leaning back up to meet your lips with hers.

your heart was overpouring as she fixed your dress for you and even began to carry your mini purse for you.

you think you just fell in love, no. you know you just fell in love.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

you were both making your way out of the ladies' restroom 20 minutes later, hand in hand.

as you both were making your way to the front of the restaurant doors, you caught a quick glance at the male waiter from earlier which he didn't miss. you turn your head away without a second thought or care for who the man was.

Ellie reaches for the door handle, getting ready to step out.

except a voice calls out abruptly.

"excuse me!?"

you and Ellie's head snap back towards his direction. Ellie stopped herself from pulling the door open, her hand not leaving the handle.

"i wonder how he would feel if he knew his girl was a dyke"

before you knew it, you were seeing red.

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#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou smut #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams fluff #the last of us fandom #ellie williams series #lesbian #GATÚ🌺

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lunamadhatter99 · 7 months

Text

All for the cameras

chapter 2

Finnick Odair x fem!reader

Here we go, part 2! Thank you, thank you, thank you all for the support with the first chapter!! I'm so glad that everyone liked it.

I hope you're going to like this second chapter too🤞 again if you're new and want to be tagged in the next chapter, comment here❤️❤️❤️

Chapter summary: It's time for the big event. And better keep our eyes open.

Chapter warning: none, except the usual mention of prostitution and usual Hunger Games stuff. Nothing too wild. We still won't see Finnick in this chapter, but I promise it's going to be worth it❤️

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@bambikitten

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@sisiking99

"Snow is watching us." Haymitch says, we're almost at the Capitol for the final interview and the big celebration.

"Of course, he is. He needs to watch everything. Especially the inconveniences," I scoff.

"Yeah. And if he wants you to pacify the districts, I promise you, he's not happy." Haymitch continues, "instead of being in love, you two sounds like you're reading from a drilling manual."

"You try reading that stuff that Effie writes us," Peeta mutters.

"Snow doesn't care." I tell him. "That's not how you want to convince him."

"I'm open to suggestions," he says back, tired.

"We could get married," Katniss quietly suggests, not looking up at anyone.

"That's not helping," Haymitch comments.

"I'm serious. If, like you said we're on this train forever, it's gonna happen eventually. Why not now?"

"It does make a statement. I'll give you that." Haymitch then looks at Peeta who agrees, but quickly stands up and leave. Katniss looks at me.

"It's something we can try, you're right... they would want it to happen eventually." I shrug.

"It's settle, then." Haymitch drinks to that and Katniss looks at me with hope.

---------------

"Are you sure you don't want to come to the party?" I ask Haymitch before I have to leave for Snow's residence. "Lots of free alcohol."

"I don't need free alcohol." He chuckles amused, "I'm a victor. I already got that."

"Don't you want to save a damsel in distress?" I try again.

"Our president seems very well guarded on his own," Haymitch jokes, "he's safe."

I genuinely laugh at that shaking my head.

"See? I need that! Please?" I try to beg just one more time.

"Don't send me that look, Princess." He turns his head away ready to walk away.

"Fine, fine... I tried." I raise my hands up in surrender. "Wish me luck, at least. "

"Maybe they'll leave you alone tonight, too interested in the two lovers," he sadly smiles at me, hoping, rather than believing, his own words to be true.

"Yeah, maybe," I take a deep breath, "well... have a goodnight, Haymitch."

"You too, princess." He winks, "and eyes open."

------------

The party is just as exaggerated as ever. Lots of people, lots of food and drinks and lots of lights.

I make my way through the crowd, towards the tables full of food and drinks, hoping to find something to make this evening more tolerable. I take a glass and take a sip, breathing deeply.

Some people come to talk to me, about the victors, thankfully.

"Two victors, exciting, uh?" One of the them says cheerfully.

"Very," I say with my usual forced smile.

"You must be proud, two victors on your turn on 12," a woman with very voluminous hair nudges me, "you were the talk of the town these past few days, you know?"

"Me?" I ask, surprised by that, usually everyone forgets about me during the victory tour.

"Oh yes, well beside the lovebirds." A green haired man chimes in.

"Why?" I start to get anxious, the necklaces feel a lot tighter than before.

"I heard a rumour... someone wants to put a ring on your finger," she whisper-exclaims with a wink.

"W-what?... I don't think... uh..." I stutter.

"C'mon, everyone knows you're Cal Kingslay's favourite." She teases, with a devilish smirk, "and it's rumored that he wants you all to himself."

"Isn't that wonderful?" The man cheers. "We could probably get two well awaited weddings this year!"

"I hope I didn't ruin the surprise." The woman adds, with, what I'm sure is, a fake apologetic smile.

"Of course not. Now would you excuse me, gotta wait for my Victors." I say turning around to walk as far as possible from them, I finish my drink in one go and soon take another glass. Thankfully it's announced the arrival of Katniss and Peeta.

I spot them walking through the crowd following Effie and heading to Flavius and Octavia so I quickly join them.

As they see me arrive they immediately smile, relieved.

"There you are," I say holding my hands out for them to hold, "I've missed you,"

All for the cameras.

"It's only been 30 minutes," Peeta plays along.

"And you can stay that long away from me?" I fake offence, "You wound me,"

Everyone around us laugh so I just decide to stick with them as long as I can.

Helping them play along is much easier than expected, especially with Peeta, Katniss is still a little uncertain, but I get her, it got me years and years to get used to the cameras.

After I unfortunately finish my fourth glass, I need another one, in order to survive this evening.

"Excuse me a second," I whisper at them and head to the other side of the room where I can get another glass of Whiskey.

I turn around to go back to Katniss and Peeta when I'm met with a firm chest.

Unfortunately I already know who this might be.

"Found you" Cal teases.

I look up at him, the blue in his hair is even stronger than I remembered, and a little longer too, he got bigger, more muscles for sure, eyes just as devilish.

"That you did," I try to mask my fear with a chuckle.

"I've missed you, you know, been looking everywhere for you since I got here," he says with a sweet tone, that only makes my skin crawl. He grabs my hand to play with my fingers.

"I've been here the whole time, chatting with the Victors you know," I take my hand back, "I should get back to them, exc-"

"They got you all this time," he stops me from walking away, "it's not the same without you."

"I..." I want to say something, but nothing comes out.

"I mean, it's fun and all with Finnick, but with you..." he lets out a big dreamy sigh, "with you it's so much better"

He says the last part leaning in, close enough to suffocate me.

"Excuse me?"

We both turn and see Peeta standing there.

"Peeta!" I say, both surprised and relieved, "Peeta, uh.. this is Cal Kingslay, his father was once the general himself"

"Nice to meet you, sir," Peeta extends his hand and Cal grabs it and shakes it.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr Mellark," Cal greets him, he's tense though, he doesn't like being interrupted.

"Uh... Peeta, where's Katniss?" I ask to change the subject.

"She's dancing with the new Head Gamemaker," he explains simply, "but I still wanted to dance so I thought to ask you, if you're free."

"Oh, but of course," I say holding out my hand for him.

"But..." Cal starts.

"Oh, c'mon, he's our new victor, we can't say no to him, now can we?"

"Of course not," Cal says with a very evident forced smile.

That being said, me and Peeta go dance with the other people, I even spot Katniss with said New head Gamemaker.

"Thank you," I breathlessly say as we start dancing.

"You're welcome, you looked like you needed saving," he says with his kind smile, "who is he?"

"A fan" I simply say, "a very... uh... insisting one"

"I see," he nods.

"Thanks again, really."

"Don't worry about it." He laugh, "I mean, you helped saving me in that arena, this is nothing."

It's actually a lot more than he thinks.

I smile at him, grateful.

I then feel a slight tap on my shoulder, I turn around seeing Katnis and the Gamemaker.

"Mind changing partners?" He asks politely.

"Sure."

Me and Katniss exchange spots.

"It's an honour," he says once we're dancing.

"That honour would be the same if I knew your name sir," I tease.

"Oh, my bad, I apologise." He chuckles, amused, "I'm Plutarch Heavensbee,"

"Now the honour is mine," I say, "new head Gamemaker... when did they choose you?"

"Oh, I volunteer," he simply explains.

"Oh..." I let out a surprised laugh, "I see Katniss is already dictating fashion."

"Yeah, she's an inspiration, don't you think?" He says it almost as a challenge.

"I do," I answer seriously. "There must be more then... why volunteer?"

"I think it's time for the game to mean something," he shrugs and smiles.

"Mean something?" I wonder, "that's pretentious,"

"A little," he chuckles again, "so I'd keep those eyes open, if I were you."

My eyes snap back at his face, he's smiling, proud of himself.

Why? Does he know something? Does Haymitch know something?

Before I get the chance to ask him anything, the Capitol anthem starts and the crowd cheers.

"I'm sure we'll meet again," he says before following the rest of the people out for President Snow's speech.

I'm a little stunned, it's Effie's call that snaps me out of it. I quickly join her, Katniss and Peeta out.

We all gather in front of the residence, waiting for the President Snow to come out. I turn around looking for Cal, only to make sure he doesn't sneak up on me again. I see him looking around, for me probably, so I quickly turn around getting closer to Katniss.

At last the President comes out on his balcony.

"Tonight, on this, the last day of their tour, I want to welcome our two Victors." He starts with his usual charming persona, two young people who embody our idealsof strength and valor. And I, personally, want to congratulate them on the announcement of their engagement."

Everyone cheers. Peeta and Katniss smile at the crowd around them.

"Your love has inspired us. And I know it will go on inspiring us every day for as long as you may live." He holds up his glass and the fireworks start and I turn around to look at them like everyone.

I sense Katniss holding my hand and turning around. I want to look at Snow too, but the way she starts to squeeze my hand tells me all I need to know...

He doesn't believe them.

It didn't work.

---------------

I'm sitting in an armchair staring at nothing in particular. My mind can't help but think about whatever we can do to make their story more believable, but nothing, absolutely nothing comes up.

The riots in the districts surely won't make him happy, which means it will be worse for everyone else.

Fuck.

My head snaps back as I hear footsteps coming, I let out a sigh when I notice it's just Katniss.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she apologises.

"Don't worry about it," I wave her off, "can't sleep either?"

She shakes her head, I motion for her to sit with me.

"Do you think we ever had any chance?" She then asks me.

"I guess, the positive side of me really hoped... but the realistic side knew." I sigh, looking down at my own hands, "I'm afraid it was too late from the beginning. And I don't mean from what happen in 11... I mean from the moment you took out the berries, that made the districts feel something, these riots all over the place won't be pacify by a love story. Snow knows that."

"He asked me to convince him," she explains, "to convince him ours is true love."

"He never believed you." I directly say, "not for a second."

"Why ask me that then?"

"Control." I simply answer looking up at her with a serious expression. "Show you he has control."

"How did you end up living like this?" She asks, she seems genuinely interested, but I'm not ready to share that part of my life with her just yet.

I smile at her, a smile that doesn't reach my eye.

"Aw... Katniss, I thought you knew the difference between living" I turn serious again, looking her dead in the eyes," and surviving."

With that I stand up, grab a bottle of what I think is rum, and head to my room.

-----------

I stand by the doors waiting for Peeta, Katniss and Haymitch to get off the train. The thought of going back to normal is dreadful enough, going back alone is even worse, I don't want to think about it.

"Home sweet home," Haymitch declares as he nears.

"Don't be so eager to leave me," I joke, holding my hand out for him to shake, he takes and kiss the back of it.

"You know, it pains me deeply," he teases back and I chuckle.

"Take care of them, will you?" I ask quietly.

"You take care of yourself, will you?" He lets go of my hand and leans down to whisper into my ear, "and eyes open" He smiles one more time before getting of the train.

"You'll have to explain that to me properly one of these days," I tell him as I watch him go.

"Isn't his whole character just... cryptic?" I turn around seeing Peeta and Katniss.

"Or just constantly drunk." Katniss chimes in.

"He's cryptically drunk all the time," I smile, "so... you got everything?"

"Yeah, we're ready to get home." Peeta smile back at me.

"Good... Good." I let out a deep sigh, "it's been a pleasure assisting you two. I guess I'll see you at the next Hunger Games, mentors."

"Thank you for everything, Y/n." Peeta pulls me in for a quick hug before walking away.

"Bye," I wave then turn to Katniss, "you okay?"

"Yeah... I think so." She forces a small smile.

"I wish I could do more," I tell her honestly.

"Thanks,"

"Say hi to your family for me, alright?" I smile again and she nods.

Once Katniss is out of sight a Peacekeeper comes up to me.

"Yes?" I ask.

"Your presence has been requested back in the Capitol. We'll be leaving soon." He tells me.

"May I know who requested it?" I ask, tired. I already imagine who-

"President Snow."

Uh?

"Did he say why?"

The peacekeeper doesn't answer and walks away. I stand here dumbfounded, wondering what he might want from me.

Is it because of Katniss and Peeta?

Is it because of the riots in the districts?

Is it because of the Quartel Quell? Does he wants me to be more participant or?

Then a terrifying thought comes to mind...

------------

"You asked for me, sir?" I stand in front of his desk as he write something down.

"It came to my attention a rumour's veen going around regarding you, miss L/n." He starts, still not looking directly at me, "a merry one."

"Sir?" I ask, my throat instantly dry.

"Cal Kingslay apparently wants to marry you," he finally puts down the pen and looks at me with, what might seem, a genuinely happy expression, "That's a wonderful news."

"Is it?" I don't know what he wants from me.

"Oh yes, the people can't help but be thrilled about. the idea. I, myself, think it's great news. After the contributions the Kingslays gave to the games in these last years, it will show, not only to the Capitol, but the districts as well, that you are an active part of this system." He explains, the hint of a challenge in his eyes. Challenge me to say no, to refuse.

I really want to, I want to scream at him and just run away. Being sold to all rich people in the Capitol is not the life I want, but being tied to him... permanently, it's more terrifying.

But I have no choice.

All I can do is swallow my pride and take a deep shaky breath.

"I... how... how will it happen, sir?" I ask.

"You two will get engaged once I announce the Third Quarter Quell and get properly married after the crowing of the Victor. He will ask, you will happily say yes." He explains, satisfied with my compliance, then he goes back at the papers in front of him, "That's all."

I don't need him to tell me twice, I immediately walk out of his office, ready to go home and just let everything out.

"Oh, before you go," Snow's voice freezes me on the spot, "Plutarch Heavensbee asked for your company, you will be escorted to his house immediately." He informs me.

I shakily nod and walk out of his office where two guards make way.

-----------

"Do you want some tea?" Plutarch motion for me to sit at a big wooden table, "perhaps something stronger?"

I nervously nod as I sit.

He walks away, I hear him talking to someone before walking back into the room I'm in with two drinks in hand. He offers one to me and sits by the opposite side of the table.

"I told the guards to come back in an hour, we should have enough time" he smiles and I nod again, still not sure of what to expect.

Suddenly the lights go off and the room falls into deep darkness. I can still make out his face due to the lights coming from outside.

"What...?" I ask.

"You can never feel safer," he tells me.

"What's going on, Mr Heavensbee?" I ask, anxiety growing at every passing second.

"Tell me, miss L/n," he starts, voice a little quieter than before, "what do you know about district 13?"

#the hunger games fic #the hunger games x reader #hunger games fic #the hunger games imagine #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair #finnick imagine #finnick x reader #finnick odair x y/n

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alavestineneas · 2 months

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and if you are there, why do i feel alone in this room?

pairing: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!reader summary: The woman—a siren, some kind of sea beast lurking in deep, salted waters—sits near him with the ottoman under her feet that still seemed to deny her the comfort of rest, her eyes glinting with mischief when she notices his stare. Taunts, even, forge obliviousness to the spells she casts. Strange, otherworldly—redundant. Everything about her, down to the light gown and a headdress that showed little of her face, Feyd-Rautha was not used to seeing. warnings: mentions of death, violence, implied/referenced child abuse, religious symbolism, mentions of sa (!), blood and other parts of body, very non-healthy relationships chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 !this work is part 2 to the i can feel the soil falling over my head; no people are here, just the void in my chest! word count: 7,3k

author's notes: hi beautiful people! today, I have finally finished this chapter and am thrilled to say that this fic requires part 3! be aware that this piece of literature is explicit and touches on some very heavy themes, including sa and child abuse. Please be mindful of it! As always, your opinions, suggestions, and critiques are welcome in the comments. Love you, and have a tasty read!

There are a lot of books stored in her memory, locked in the neurocytes safely. They are tucked into the cortex with love and tenderness that YN otherwise taught herself to suppress as a sign of her weaker self. But papers were non-living, so she felt like it was less dangerous for her to show warmth towards them; after all, if the objects can not acknowledge your love, does it really count as real? She read everything, mostly in an attempt to prepare herself for something she did not know the face of; she read to build the shield around herself, in desperate hope to be able to help at least her future self. YN read even now, although her foolish childhood desires were long gone, just to get a glimpse of the girl she was before the monsters escaped the pages.

The book she re-read the most was nothing special, nothing suiting the image she moulded herself into—a giant, relatively old encyclopaedia of animals inhabiting the furthest corners of Known Imperium. The letters inside, although faded a little, were left almost untouched by eyes—maybe it was what drew her in in the first place—to cherish something seen as unneeded. YN learned the small paragraphs almost by heart; she liked the idea of someone taking enough time to observe something as small as a roden to know its habits. She liked the idea of it happening to her one day. As it always is, it did not.

She chose her favourite animal without that much thought. Although even the notion of having something beloved was foolish, YN was made to choose; she and her sisters played the game of forest most often. The game was simple: pretend to be a creature you are not, forgetting the countless rules they had to follow. Pretending they have claws and teeth; pretending they can protect themselves not through intrigues and hidden motives but through open, bold force. Irulan was always a Katanga Lioness; she liked it because of the proximity to their house's symbol. YN did not; the grey pages of her beloved book described them as "observed to also scavenge on carrion of animals that were killed by other predators or died from natural causes''. What king of the animals steals the work of others simply to feed themselves? She did not tell Irulan that, of course—why would she?

YN chose a mountain lion for herself. Sure, she may have made a mistake thinking it was just another type of lion, but the game went too far to change anything, so she stuck with that. She even grew to love it—the drawing of the mountain lion on her character sheet, the way it prowled through the forest in her mind's eye. It had many names and many homes. Adaptive. Captivating.

She does not know why it came into her mind suddenly—maybe it was the dim light of the closed arena. The air circulated here freely, cooling through the complex systems of vents, even though it seemed to be deprived of any life—just a mechanical circle of the same molecules moving around her seated figure and returning to the hidden openings again and again. YN looked straight ahead; the two men were still sparring.

From her bench, they looked like one—two bodies moved so swiftly that one was unable to differentiate where the lines of their limbs ended. YN squinted her eyes; she was alone in the seating area, and still, she dared not move closer. The taller, thinner figure possessed skin so white it looked almost translucent underneath the cold light—YN wondered if she would be able to see the structures in his body through his clothed stomach. He moved well, almost too well for her not to press her lower row of teeth to the top one, hiding the tongue in a cave of pearl bones—she had hoped he was worse with his bare hands. YN had counted four hundred and five seconds before he made a mistake in his steps; it was a lot more than her own results, but for a man, he was good.

Feyd-Rautha had style; she had to give him that. He fought like a serpent would: calculated, precise. His fists knew the most effective targets, and his legs knew how to escape the blows of his opponent. If YN was to guess, he relied on muscle memory less than a usual fighter would, preferring to dwell in the moment instead. It made for a good show, sure, but it was not practical. She smiled to herself; of course, the na-Baron could not know what the real battle was like. How unfortunate for him—how delightful for her. YN still can't believe he let her watch his training every morning—was he really that stupid not to realise her motive? Was he too confident to consider having weaknesses?

Regardless, she saw what she needed to do - for three hours every day, she set unmovingly on the third bench in a small fighting ground, imprinting his every move in her mind. There are so many moves you can use and so many tricks you can do before she learns them all. YN did not care for the cold gaze thrown in her direction when Feyd-Rautha collapsed on the ground, taking a moment to rest before lurching onto his opponent again. She can wait.

Mountain lions are stealthy predators.

The days she spent here changed into months, their slow steps morphing into each other until time became a blur, a concept she did not grasp. Feyd-Rautha was a hard one to warm, but before she would mould him into something she wanted, YN needed to heat his DNA to a certain magnitude; otherwise, he would simply break. She would've gladly accepted this turn of fate too, but right now, keeping na-Baron alive is far more convenient for the Bene Gessarit. For her.

A concubine. A slap in the face: it seemed like life was determined to dissolve the small bits of her dignity in its endless pool of secrets. She was not a wife to Harkonnen na-Baron; no, she was to be his whore. If she was not too tired, she would've felt a pang of fear on her rising with oxygen lungs; a concubine's position is even lower here compared to one of a lawful wife's. YN remembers the words of her teacher as she prepared her for the union: Harkonnen concubines are killed after their first night in a position; if one is lucky enough to escape the fate by being with a child, she bears him until it's time for the baby to be born. One of the greatest honours for a Harkonnen is to take the life of his mother as soon as he enters the world.

She was to join na-Baron for breakfast today—a proposal YN waited long to receive, but part of her wishes she never did. It was worded like an invitation; YN knows it was not. Harkonnens rarely spoke when they did not give orders—a creature of habit, she supposed. So, she did what she had to: follow the slave to the chambers designated for the meal. The hem of her dress shone with a colour so foreign to the fort around her; YN needed to make herself stand out. Men are much like children, she learned—the more colourful the toy, the more likely they will want to play with it.

The walls were heavy here. They didn't bend in the shapes she was used to, preferring to stand tall. They didn't have to hide their strength underneath a complicated facade—quite the opposite. They paraded it, wearing it like the honour it is. Staying unremorsefully unbending. Maybe it's the air or a different measure of gravity; maybe it's her habit of soaking up the surroundings and letting them poison her insides, growing rotten in between the folds of her stomach tissue, but her legs are metal, stone-cold, pulling YN deeper and deeper into the floor. She tries so hard to ignore the three creatures in the corner.

They are hairless, much like the man in front of her, and dressed in matching black. YN would've mistaken them for Harkonnen royalty if it were not for the iron collars on their necks and the glowing black eyes that seemed to follow her every move. She would've been happy to have some company and not be forced into solitude with na-Baron if it were not for a still convulsing body on the floor. A body she did not recognise, but it could've easily been her own.

The creatures seemed to enjoy the involuntary moves of the soon-to-be corpse; they closed their eyes in delight and bared the sharp, black-coloured teeth in sheer pleasure as they lurched into the white flesh. They ripped it apart with only their hands, not bothering to use the prepared knives for more than a big incision from head to stomach. The sounds of chewing and gnawing filled the room, echoing off the walls and sending electric impulses down her body. YN was used to the metallic smell and the bright colour of arterial blood, but this was not a simple death. It was a show, and she was the long-awaited watcher.

Feyd-Rautha seemed unbothered by the sight near him. His hands, covered in thick streaks of blood, were deep to his elbows in the body. He dissected the corpse with precision, his eyes focused and his grip steady. He looked calm, even peaceful. Na-Baron was in good humour today. ''I must say, your arrival has graced us with much more than just the dowery; nothing could've made this union more auspicious—such a rare bird you are, daughter of our generous Emperor. A princess, yet treated no better than a common slave.''

Here it was: the thing she was thinking about all the way to this strange, garbage planet in the dress that pokes bleeding holes in her abdomen with each glass she downs. From his lips, it sounds even more bitter; even savages found the way the Emperor sold one of his daughters so easily strange. "Both of our houses have traditions far beyond our understanding," YN shrugs, scaring her thoughts away like annoying flies. Here, in a room so far from the comfort of her home, they moved too fast, bringing nausea to her throat.

She is here to secure the bloodline of House Harkonnen, to ensure the balance needed in the Imperium. YN does not notice how suddenly her gaze darkens or how tightly the hands that rested on the chair are now holding the pleated velvet of her ruby-red gown. Oh, the baby. The tiny creature inside her womb, the future head for the Baron's crown to be placed upon. The yet unconcieved child she could not feel love for. She was given no other choice but to risk its life before even giving it a chance to obtain its gift.

''Then you will find my present to be quite fitting.''

YN watches in silence as na-Baron reaches inside the rib cage of the corpse. He reaps out an organ with one swift motion, almost like plucking a harmful sprout from the garden. The organ is broun and rosewood, a weird mixture of shades that make it harder for her to focus on anything but the thing in his large hand. The gift he meant to give was a human heart.

She feels his walk long before she sees a figure departing from its place at the table; she guesses the end point of his manoeuvres too easily. It's almost funny—a cruel, senseless joke; how obvious the slight tremor in her hands is; how heavy her eyes become at the sight of Harkonnen black. The body positions itself near; if she squints, she can hear the hot breathing somewhere between her shoulder blades. His hand snakes around her neck quickly, positioning the organ right in front of her mouth. YN can detect the smell hitting her nostrils before she closes the receptors in them. She wants to scream, but the notes die in her throat. Who would she scream for? She hears the creatures hiss and whisper—the heart is a good part, from what she can make out. It did not need to be wasted on people like her.

''Will you not accept it?'' Feyd-Rautha's words are mocking, but his dark blue eyes stay virgin to the laughter. They drill small spots on her neck from behind with such force that YN can almost feel the burnt smell of her sweat-covered skin.

She takes a breath. Her own heart shrinks, its vessels beating with intensity twice as much as needed. Still alive, she notes absently. Still breathing. The feeling is natural and easy; the forced calmness in her body tingles the muscles, braiding her nerves into a pattern similar to the netting. Then, she opens her mouth.

"If I shall lick the blood of your hands, Feyd-Rautha, dare to make it your own."

That's it.

Maybe the Emperor was right to spare her none of the Sardaukars and a quarter of her dresses. She did not need more; she was not expected to survive long enough to use half of her clothes. YN chucked under her breath. Dead over diet preferences—how profound.

After a moment, the pale face behind her also twists, allowing the blackened teeth to escape the grip of thin lips. Like this, na-Baron looks less human and more like the evil he was said to be. He throws the heart to the creatures—they catch it greedily—and places a bloodied hand on her shoulder, the droplets of crimson going unnoticed on the brightly coloured cloth. ''Very well, then. Let us eat.''

YN nods. She looks around almost instinctively; nothing could make her eat a thing after the sight she just witnessed, but she refuses the na-Baron once; she is not about to do it again. The food is a lot, but her plate is almost empty: only a small amount of salad is here, sadly staring into the hunger in her eyes and a now featherless creature in an unnatural pose, suggesting its non-poetical death. The bird is small, almost delicate; its wings are pitifully glued to the body. YN does not want to let her mind draw the comparison, and does not allow her brain to admit a direct analogy; she dissects the bird with a dull knife and puts a piece in her dry mouth. The creature tastes good—almost too good to be expected in this brightly lit hall.

Most often deer is the mountain lion’s staple diet. However, they can survive preying on small animals as well.

The night covers Giedi Prime rather quickly; it never lingers, politely waiting for its masters to finish their daily affairs; it hits like a coward, from behind, trapping those not careful enough to hide before its arrival. The harsh, toxic waves of lazy winds hit the walls of the halls coldly lighted with a few sphears; they look like deep forest clearings, forming a system of endless options, ultimately leading to one, inevitable, end. His work chambers aren't big; he does not visit them often for them to be. The solitary metal desk before him is filled with letters, drafts of laws, and official documents, all waiting for his approval. It exhausts Feyd-Rautha to no end, the sheer stupidity of most of the advisers here; almost half of the documents were riddled with errors and inconsistencies. The forever present in his head dull migraine grows stronger when he opens the shortest letter; he almost busts his skull open when the pain heavies.

He ponders too much—the type of thoughts you can feel running on your tongue but never escaping. He is not used to being in the mist; all of his life is so painfully contrasted that no doubt of its nature can survive the sharp edge of his mind. There are things he can escape—forget, even—but some linger in his ribcage too long for them to vanish. Soon, they grow into his lungs with small, unbreakable threads, becoming him. He used to try to get them away from his heart, as if it held some value. Now, he is smarter, older, and more indifferent, he lets them pierce yet another piece of human flesh with no sorrow.

Of course, he remembered her face. The same face that haunted his sleep ever since she dared to appear before his eyes. Feyd-Rautha, naturally, found her little frolic that day. He spent an entire evening studying her work, analysing every move she could've made with her blade to achieve such outcomes. Sure, some things he would've done differently, but the sheer brutality of an animal he would not have guessed the girl possessed charmed him. Feyd-Rautha was a proud man, but he, too, held a love for beautiful things. For that, he hadn't told the Baron of the sight he discovered in the reading room. For that, he is now willing to pretend to believe her eyes when the fear fleshes in them.

Feyd-Rautha curses; she sickens. Like a bone stuck somewhere down his throat, not letting him live without a pang of mocking. She lurks, and whispers—Feyd-Rautha wants to smash her pretty head against the wall just to reveal the secrets she hides from him so he can finally understand the hold she retains. He is no stranger to the desire to own, or devour, but the fear in the back wall of his stomach is an alien in his body. He tries to hide it—to paint over it with anger or violence—but it remains a constant presence, gnawing at him from within. It's no use; the woman is a shark, designed to sense the fright. Maybe that's what brought him in in the first place—the steel eyes so similar to his own in a narrow hall all those years before. Maybe he was so used to the danger that he craved it subconsciously, looking for it to make him feel like himself again. A reoccurring childhood nightmare he can't escape; he doesn't want to escape.

Feyd-Rautha finds the chair to put his weight on and waits until the tingling, spinning sensation spreads from his temples down his neck, finding its way into his bloodstream and passing his organs one by one, until none are left uncorrupted. Of course, he expects it. The woman slipped into his brain and now chews her way into it like a parasite downs the rotten body. He knows he should be terrified, but instead, he feels a strange sense of relief. Feyd-Rautha can hear the whispers of his own mind fighting to remain the only owners of the secrets and desires buried within. He feels his eyelids heavy; a second later, the whites of his eyes are staring at the ceiling, the blue eye lenses dissolving in light.

Water. The first thing he feels is ice-cold water dripping onto his face, filling his lungs, and sending a shock through his arms. This body does not feel like his; it's too small, too narrow. His eyes are trying to adjust as fast as they can, jumping from one blurred spot to another until finally catching a glimpse of the surroundings. His brain does not have time to process the picture; his nose is filled with fluid again, and his open mouth is gasping for air but only taking in more liquid. He tries waving his hands around, but the stronger grip is firm on his nape, pulling him further down into the depths. The hand yanked him out just as he was about to fall into darkness again, the sound of water changing to loud screeching.

''How dare you hit me, devil child? Let the water wash away your dirt. Repent; beg for forgiveness for all of your rotten nature.''

The voice is unknown to him; it is harsh and filled with fury. The woman's face is twisted in anger; splashes of water on it match his. He can't tell if they are from his antics or tears. The woman's grip tightens, her nails digging into his skin. The black clothes on her figure make her status known - a Bene Gessarit witch. Feyd-Rautha tries to lurch forward and hit her back, but her strength is overwhelming. He feels panic coursing through his veins instead of oxygen—a sensation he did not think he could experience anymore. He wants to bark a response to show her that he is not afraid, but his voice catches in his throat.

Feyd-Rautha has no time to wonder what the woman wants; she brings his face to the bathtub again, and he opens his mouth involuntarily, frantically begging not to do it anymore. He says everything she wants to hear; he cries out and promises to wash his sins away. The voice does not sound like his at all. He is desperate to end this nightmare now, but some force holds him here. The woman is not satisfied; her ears are deaf to his pleas.

His face ends up on the water surface a moment later, his nose hitting the wall of the bathtub as the woman holds him down. He feels his body go limp with utter horror; this time, the shouting woman won't stop. Her voice grows quieter, replaced by the sound of small waves hitting the brim and spilling; from right to left, the water turns red, and his tongue tastes the iron he knows from sliding blades into his mouth.

''Echidna, what the fuck are you doing? Let her go; she is going to choke!''

''Get that spawn to me, for I will not let her ruin my life anymore! I must finish what I have started!''

Feyd-Rautha's head is filled with oxygen once again; his lungs take a desperate breath in, sending too much air to his blood system. He falls on his back, the world spinning. He does not care for the weeping woman in black or the chaos unfolding around him. His only thought is that everything is finally done and that the white floors are a magnificent place for drops of liquid to fall from his normally bald head's waterfall of hair.

He wakes up suddenly, the sensation long gone. His steps are heavy again; the body he inhibits no longer feels like a cage. The voices have left him for now, and the only thing on his forehead left is small drops of sweat and a pathetic, frightened, beating heart. The cold breeze from the darkened sands surrounding the city wishes to prove otherwise—it heavies and plants its spikes into his reddened cheeks. The horizon gleams at him, almost taunting; not a single star is to be seen under the imposing clouds. He will kill her; maybe he will even enjoy it. Feyd-Rautha can handle a lot, but not the shame of being seen. Not the guilt of being caught wanting.

There are only three ways to hunt a mountain lion: tracking, waiting in ambush, and with dogs.

The gliding motions of heavy fabrics across the wooden floors created a strange pattern of a song now centuries old. Here, in a room so long that the wind travelled through the hollows, her careful steps seemed to almost fall silent. Nothing was there for the preying eyes to see. YN closes her eyes; with that, even for a moment, the world stays still. She knows where the hollow staircase will lead her; she feels it in her stomach with every step she takes. YN knows nothing about the future, but the past lives deep in her memories, haunting her every move. She knows she shouldn't have done it. Travelling through one's mind is a sin she can't escape; she will pay the price for it in her blood, but the Bene Gesarit did not send her here to survive, so it's of no use to be afraid now. It makes no difference for the dead if you weep at their grave or not.

The burning sphere of light in the hall stops spinning; the doors open without any noise, although if the pounding eardrums had not stunned her hearing, she could've noticed the faint thuds. YN waits; there are no flashes of her happiest memories or the faces of her loved ones in her drained mind. No, in what seems to be her last moments, she thinks of what she could've been if the world had not given her a sword to turn into.

Feyd-Rautha appears in the hall; his steps aren't rushed, and his expression is stone-cold. She eyes him shamelessly: nothing. She sees nothing; she senses it deep in her crying bones. He drags her by the hair like a mother would with her misbehaving child; roughly, he pulls her towards the exit, his grip tightening with each step until the door behind them closes and her knees meet the cold ground with a nasty thud. The bruises will stain them soon, not that it matters now.

''You should've known better than to cross me,'' he hisses, his voice gruff. It's cold, chilling—the way his lips part to reveal a sinister smile. ''Now, you can think yourself vanished, little witch.''

YN does not answer—what fool would beg the deaf? The blade against her chin is sharp; she knows how attentive he is when it comes to inflicting pain. It pokes right into the Omehyoid muscle, a dull pain shooting through her body. If she has got to die, it may as well be from his skilled arms. How beautiful he is in the twisted pleasure he finds in her suffering. Unearthly, almost too perfect to be made of simple flesh and bone. Something was unnerving, unforgettable in the net of veins under his pearly skin; it was as if he were a work of art, meticulously crafted to bring physical pain and optical pleasure in equal measure. A silver glint under the defined cheekbones, a redness of lips filled with blood vessels. For a second, YN wonders what it would be like to bite into it, like an apple that lay too long under the golden sun; would the blood slip as generously as the sweet nectar? Handsome as poison, as a black sun on his forsaken planet, as death.

''Go on. Kill me, then; let me escape you once and for all.''

Under the deep sea of his eyes, something moved; his eyes dipped into her, part by part. Like the slow, deliberate dance of a predator stalking its prey, his gaze lingered on her, calculating and intense. YN lowered her head to push the knife a little deeper into the flesh. A strange thought lingered in her brain; she found herself on her knees in front of him, almost willingly. She has worshipped God all her life; who, if not her, can recognise his creation? The Devil. Lucifer. Satan. The man with horns so big they once touched the skies; a corrupt angel, fallen from grace so long ago he couldn't remember way back if he tried. They have warned her about him, but is it her fault that God has disowned her earlier than she could? Did it really matter to her, before whom to kneel, as long as she felt a sense of power and control in her submission?

All that mattered now was that he wanted to hurt her. He wanted her.

She sees the recognition flicker on his face. Caught. The blade slides quickly across her exposed neck, the blood sprouting out in a weak, painfully quick stream. Feyd-Rautha kissed her, biting her bottom lip till the stream of boldly coloured blood trickled down his chin. He did so like an animal would, baring his teeth and dragging them across the pulsating vein on her neck. YN's laughing cry echoes in the empty room; she is forced to admit that he felt good.

Never approach a mountain lion; most mountain lions prefer to avoid confrontations, so never approach them and make them feel cornered.

The woman—a siren, some kind of sea beast lurking in deep, salted waters—sits near him with the ottoman under her feet that still seemed to deny her the comfort of rest, her eyes glinting with mischief when she notices his stare. Taunts, even, forge obliviousness to the spells she casts. Strange, otherworldly—redundant. Everything about her, down to the light gown and a headdress that showed little of her face, Feyd-Rautha was not used to seeing. The beautiful substance of her hair caught the light from the sun like a mirage in the desert, reflecting in his eyes with painful hits. The jewels, too, have found their way onto her clothes, but they were hidden beneath the layers of fabric. They shined brightly, impertinently, framing her figure in a glow that seemed to come from within.

To his surprise, the skills woman possessed spread out to politics as well, with her witch training proving useful in court. Feyd-Rautha did not miss how his advisors grew more uneasy when she entered the room, her careful eyes scanning their faces for even a hint of betrayal or deceit. Like a proud discoverer, he ached to share his new-found wonder with the blind audience, but something in him protested in a mare thought of showing the precious jewel of his eye to the cluster of unworthy. So, Feyd-Rautha did the only thing he knew how— all of his secret observations were done from afar, masterfully hidden behind the facade of casual indifference.

As he drags yet another blade across the surface of the whetstone, he thinks about her delicate hands on his neck, her ringed fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. Harkonnen men rarely wed; they just take what they capture—men and women—and turn them into slaves. Some, if particularly sweet, are reserved for fucking. There are no special songs for that; there isn't a specific word in their native tongue for wife, either. It doesn't matter; YN is nothing of the sort. A concubine, a possession, a tool for pleasure and procreation—the Harkonnen way was simple.

''Are you done eye-fucking me now, or do you need more time with your blade?'' she sneers, her voice mocking. Only she could get away with such bold defiance in his presence, but she does not seem to care for the unusualness of it.

YN motions for him to come closer, her eyes studying the way his legs move. Feyd-Rautha has no control over them; the steps make themselves. She plays the game very well; the chase fuels something primal within him. Thirst. Hunger. It was the Harkonnen training talking to him—the wild, ancient sensation taking over his insides and imprisoning his mind in a cage of helpless desire. It spread its tentacles down to his fingertips, nesting in his abdomen. He positions himself in front of her, his body betraying him as he leans in closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Feyd-Rautha's hands repeat the ritual almost instinctively, rolling the hem of her deep purple dress up to her waist.

''Stop for a second,'' she whispers against his ear, her breath warm and inviting. ''Can I give you a piece of advice?''

Feyd-Rautha can feel the anger creeping into his body; he does not like to be refused. ''No,'' he grumbles, turning her around forcefully. "I don't need your advice," he snaps, his grip tightening on her arm.

YN does not seem to care for it. ''Don't do it. It will only lead to trouble.''

''What?'' He stops, his eyes narrowing as he absorbs the woman's words. The doubts that had lingered in the back of his mind suddenly grew louder, echoing through his mind. He releases her arm, his expression stoic. ''You are insane, woman. What are you talking about?''

''You know what I mean.''

The unease boils in his stomach. How could she know? He was careful not to slip anything; she wasn't able to cast her spells anymore either. But her knowing gaze tells him otherwise. ''You can not know the future,'' he pronounces.

''I don't need to know the future to see the truth, Feyd-Rautha. Your judgement is clouded by rage, and your mind is not as sharp as it usually is. You are not as invincible as you think you are.''

She is bluffing, he thinks. He hopes she is. Feyd-Rautha almost wished there was no cloth covering her face, nothing to hide her expressions as she lay beneath him. He catches her flamed eyes and the way they circle his face in one swift motion before settling on the ceiling above. It unnerves him, but he refuses to show it. She is no master here; she is simply a servant. That is not what power looks like, if he ever recognised one, and Feyd-Rautha knew power.

''Get out, now.''

Nothing was portrayed on her face as she curtseyed; nothing was there when she turned and walked to her rooms, leaving nothing but the ghost of the human body's warmth.

Mountain lions are more at home in brushy areas than in open prairies.

And then, he disappeared. Like the sound of the morning birds falling silent in the cacophony of voices of the city on her home planet, there was no trace of na-Baron in the entire Harkonnen fortress. YN thought she was slowly but surely going mad; no one but her noticed the usual place by the window empty, and no one but her seemed to care enough to know where he went. She caught strange looks from a few, and frankly, she thought they were right. She looked like a mad woman, her hair quickly plated and her dress hurriedly laced, her eyes darting around the room in search of any sign of Feyd-Rautha's massive figure. Noon was dragged into the evening, and then night, for three, long days until she heard the long-awaited news: na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen had tried to usurp his uncle and had failed.

She has told him so. A fucking brainless ram, with stubbornness bigger than his cock—why did he think he could outsmart the Baron? He will pay for his dumbness with his blood, perhaps even his limb—the thought brought nausea to YN's throat. She was lucky the Baron did not consider her important enough to be knowledgeable of such schemes; she lowered her head in the desert, hiding from the sand storms of Harkonnen politics; she waited for two long weeks until the announcement was made; Feyd-Rautha was forgiven. The celebration in honour of this news is to be today; she is to attend it. Not like his concubine, YN supposed, but more like the princess she still was.

Now, she took her time. YN chose a gown she wanted long enough to make even a tireless slave yawn, savouring each moment before their meeting. She was a victor now, in their small game of cat and mouse. He was a cat, but the mouse could still outwit him with grace and style. YN smiled at the wondering attendants; she looked good, and she was going to meet him.

The walk from her chambers to the Grand Hall wasn't too long; she would've walked a thousand more stairs if it was needed. The doors opened without a sound, revealing nothing but a mere celebration of yet another year under the reign of Harkonnens. The lines of slaves changed one another, the uneven circles of people dancing appearing and fleeing to the cheerful tone of strings. She was set somewhere between two Harkonnen lords she had no chance of knowing; she felt a sense of unease creeping up her spine as she tried to maintain a polite smile. Their gazes didn't look right; something sinister lurked inside them—hiding a secret she had no chance of knowing.

One of them turned to her, a chilling smile spreading across his face. "How are you finding the evening, lady YN? Or, what should I call you?,'' he mastered a fake confusion. ''Perhaps, darling? Concubine has a cheap wing to it; quite unworthy of a face so lovely as yours, don't you think?"

Dirt. The thing that crawled under her skin at his words was like dirt, making her feel unclean and exposed. She forced a laugh, trying to brush off his comments, the crown of her hair moving with muscles underneath her skin. "I am a princess, my Lord. Address me as such."

It would be enough every other noon, but today. The man's face twists, as if he just remembered something; he turns, the wine in his goblet splashing on the tablecloth. ''I think na-Baron wouldn't be too angry if I stole a princess for the night," he sneered, his eyes darkening with malice.

''Does it matter to you either way?''

YN watches as the smirk, so similar to Feyd-Rautha's, appears on the men's lips, although it doesn't feel the same. She fights back disgust as the man nods, biting into a hefty chunk of prey. His eyes, once focused on her, drifted away. YN chose to follow them; the string of fat streaming down the man's mouth onto the silver tablecloth made her nauseous. She looked from one unfamiliar face to another, until the cold feeling in her abdomen crept its way onto her chest.

There he was. His figure is unusually crouching as he sits on the podium reserved for members of the dynasty. The dark blue eyes are red now; the thin blood vessels in them are torn and emptied. His body seemed to suck the light out of the hall inside, casting a shadow over the room. There are no scars on his smooth face, but the sunken cheeks and hollow eyes spoke of a suffering that went beyond physical wounds. YN almost wished she saw him dead; whatever this was, it was surely much worse. He raised his eyes slowly to meet hers; something flickered in them before turning back to their empty state. Feyd-Rautha parts his dry lips to say something to her—she can't understand a word he draws with his breath.

From the place nearby, the Baron's voice booms, his low, almost whisper-like vowels mending into one. His face, covered with layers of skin and dead cells, twists into what was meant to be a welcoming smile—the corners of his paper-thin lips dance, lowering themselves only to jump higher, and his eyes travel from one corner to another, unable to be still even for a moment. He speaks of things YN knows nothing about court intrigue, power struggles, and alliances that shape the fate of their world, heavy with hidden meanings and unspoken threats. She does not listen until he gestures towards her, a scent of spice and decomposing flesh lingering.

''Sergeant Voss has served me well, and his loyalty at the right time is not to be forgotten. Here, I bestow upon him the highest honour of all; what was once mine, is now his. Do not let go of her if she screams, Sergeant; the girl is a fine one.''

No. YN almost does not recognise the hand as her own as the man drags her to the bed that appeared out of nowhere, freezing with horror as the people around her continue to watch in silence, their eyes devoid of any emotion or empathy. The tradition, she notes, is the one she learned so much about bedding in front of the entire court as a symbol of unity. She choked on her own tears as the man smiled at her pleas for help; they seemed to make him even more pleased.

YN looks, frantically, to the place she saw Feyd-Rautha sitting just a moment before. He would help; surely, he would not let them do it to her—his servant, his concubine, his. But the seat is empty. The scream echoing through the hall does not register as hers right away; he has sold her. For his own freedom, for a chance to be free from the consequences of his own stupid actions. Surely, the Harkonnens could not get rid of her openly—it would mean war—but she was not immune to the man who now owned her. His hands travelled her body with such audacity that YN wanted to cut them off—to cut her chest just so she could not feel the fingers digging into her skin. A sole reminder she was a woman first and a human second.

Mountain lions are solitary hunters.

The man undressed himself quickly; all of the soldiers were trained to do so. She should run; she should fight back, but the pair of unmoving hands pinning her wrists down was a stark reminder of her helplessness. The man lowers himself closer, his hot breath against her neck making her shudder in fear. She can feel him against her skirts; she can feel the weight of his body pressing down on her. The adrenaline is pumping through her veins; she will survive. Whatever it fucking takes, even if her body is bruised and broken, she will survive.

They prefer to ambush their prey from behind by swiftly and cleanly breaking the neck.

She bites—her teeth launch towards his cheek, feeling the warm flesh give way beneath her. She sinks them deeper, making holes big enough to draw blood. It's hot, and sickening on her tongue, but she does not have time for these thoughts; her next blow is in his stomach, with his knee jammed into his gut. She can feel his body convulse in pain, giving her a chance to throw him on the bed, his broad back facing her.

If they haven’t broken the neck, they will suffocate the animal.

There is nothing around that could serve as a knife; her captors made sure of that, and the sheets are too thin to wrap around his neck. She looks around the room, desperate for something to use, but the space around her is empty. YN curses as the man regains his composure and begins to struggle against her hold. Her elbow meets his nose with a sickening crunch, causing blood to spurt out. She takes a breath in; her hand wraps around his neck, forming a tight hold as she goes into the headlock. She chokes him, so desperately trying to live. And the man trashes against her grip, his white face turning a deep shade of purple before finally going limp in her arms.

Shame.

A thing that followed her after every life she took is now absent. Maybe the Giedi Prime's cruelty did have its effect on her; YN feels nothing but a sense of emptiness as she stands over the lifeless body.

''Do you have any more men to gift me to, Baron Vladimir? The night is still young.''

Her voice has changed. It holds a certain hiss now, a rasp that wasn't present before; it has matured and bloomed into half an octave deeper tone. It bites through the noise easily, cutting sharply.

The Baron laughs. His eyes gleam with amusement as he gestures towards the door. "Plenty more where that came from, my dear, but it's enough for today. Here,'' he throws something in her, a smirk ghosting on his lips. ''You've earned it.''

YN catches it and inspects the object in her hand. A small, golden broche catches the light, glinting in the dimly lit room. A head of the Bighorn ram stares back at her, the symbol of House Harkonnen. The taste of victory mingled with the metallic tang, leaving a bittersweet sensation in her mouth. Joy courses her veins—she isn't afraid. Finally, she is not afraid. Finally, she can look at her blood-stained hands without humiliation. Is it her fault she was born a better knife than a person?

Bighorn sheep are not a primary food source in most areas. However, when a lion does kill a sheep, they typically will continue to do so over and over again, until the herd is depleted.

tag list:

@oh-you-mean-me @juliskopf @moonsoulk @mamawiggers1980 @ashy-kit

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 11 months

Text

FLOWERS FOR THE SICK AND GONE (II)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER III

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 6.3k

WARNINGS: Angst, mentions of stalking, talks of death, weapons, explosives, violence, gore, strained mother-daughter relationship, suggestive thoughts, mentions of sex, toxic modeling standards, etc. (Series 18+)

A/N: I started this before Nikto was confirmed for MWII multi., but I'll be using the 'Powercell' skin as his main attire now because it's literally so attractive.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You look at your hands as they rest in your lap, right foot jumping up and down in a display of internal anxiety under the table in your Mom’s office. It was cold, and the AC was turned all the way up; the floors barely helped—tile covered by thin rugs and windows open to the chilly morning. Like the opposite of Hellfire.

Two days had passed since the explosion and you’d only just gotten the ability to leave the hospital. The doctors had wanted to keep you longer, but you had turned in a favor from your matriarch to have them ease off with their prodding and poking.

The fact that they had been more interested in your permanent colorblindness had tipped you off that all the help you were going to be given had already been passed out. As a whole, that had been in the form of pain medication and surgical glue to the minuscule cut on your temple.

The head bleeds a lot, you know, even if the injury is minor. You weren’t overly surprised the gash had been tiny; you know what a violent wound to that part of the skull looks like.

Feels like.

Your lips thin at the thought of the nurses and their curious and narrowed eyes—the doctor wanting to do more in-depth tests as if you hadn’t gone through a slew of them before.

There was a reason you hated hospitals.

Shivering, you take a deep breath to calm down right as the door behind you opens with the sound of heeled feet and a hurried sigh. The door automatically shuts with a slam and a click of metal hinges.

“Thank God nothing happened to your face!” A hand sets itself on your shoulder and you restrain a flinch, looking to the side to the familiar face of your mom as her head tilts to look you up and down in your seat. “Stand up, let me see you.”

You open your mouth to speak but you’re quickly cut off by her serious expression.

Standing, you steady yourself by placing a hand on the side of the seat, knuckles tight as your casual sneakers take your weight. “It’s just a scratch Mom, promise. I got lucky.” When you can stand without the fear of falling over, you release it and study your mother’s fancy attire.

Dress pants, blouse, and pounds of extravagant jewelry around her neck and wrists like shackles. She looks just the same as you’d always seen her. Cold.

In some ways, she was more suited to this city than you were.

“I’ll say—you could have damaged your skin.” She motions to your body, shaking her head and sighing before moving behind her desk to sit down. A large window is behind her—shining in chilled light. “We’ll have to hope and pray that the cut heals before the next photoshoot you have scheduled. Have they told you when you’ll be back in the Agency?”

“...three people are dead, and you’re worried about me?” you say quietly, gut-twisting. “What about them?”

She pauses, her hand half holding a piece of paper from her pile. She glances up at you and thinks for a moment. Your eyes dig into hers, dejected. But she doesn’t think much of this, judging by the confused emotion that swirls behind her gray pigment.

“I’m sorry, Beauty,” no, she’s not. Your face pulls at the nickname, but you say nothing until she’s done talking. “But their job was to keep you safe. They succeeded, it’s unfortunate, I know, but if they had to…pass,” she strains through the word, not wanting to say the other. For your benefit or hers, you know not. “To keep you alive, then I say it was an even trade.”

It’s nearly like a slap to your face as your body goes tight, sitting back down into the seat with a puff of air. Like you’d just been slipped poison, your throat starts to fizzle with bile.

Yefim’s dead body slashes in the back of your mind; the lower half gone and the rest spilling out. Confused eyes and burned skin that smells like something out of a kitchen no matter how morbid the thought was.

She wasn’t there, you tell yourself. She doesn’t know how bad it was.

Screaming mixed in with crying and Alyona’s insistent barks of orders. Her hands pulled you up and shielded you from the disintegrated ash of Petya and Aleksandr. One splayed out the broken window and the other lay in an unrecognizable heap a foot from the bakery.

The only people to survive were the Baker’s boy and the two of you, but then again that was half.

“I don’t think that’s right—”

“If you were a mother, then you’d be agreeing with me,” the Consul explains, shaking her head. “But that’s not why I wanted to bring you here.” With your mom, sometimes it was better just to let things go and have them disappear into the past; you’d gotten good at brushing past comments just to satisfy her. It was just easier.

“Okay,” you whisper, looking down at your lap before closing your eyes. Looking back up, the woman is signing papers and doesn’t glance at you before speaking.

“There was a break-in at the bakery an hour before you went there,” your body stills, a strange feeling in your gut as it tightens. “Nothing was stolen but Mr. Morozov,” the owner, “says the locks were broken off; he never told authorities until now because it was minor. I think that leaves us with the answer about how that explosive got under the floorboards.” The scribble of a pen before it’s placed down and your mom’s eyes settle back on you with a frown on her lips. Her makeup makes her look like a stone statue you’d see in a museum; blank with an undertone of something else.

You stutter in broken intervals, repeatedly tapping your finger on your wrist, “How do you know about this?”

“I’m paid to know,” your mother mutters but offers more. “One of the employees is American. He’s here and planning to extend his visa for four years to care for his dying father.” Her voice drops. “Thank God that he wasn’t working.”

Being one of the two American Consulate Generals in Russia, your mother’s job was to, officially, “...Preserve and protect the relationship, and be a point of contact, between the United States of America and Russia.”

It also meant that any American citizens in Yekaterinburg were under her watchful eyes. This Consulate building provides a multitude of services—issuing visas, and renewing passports were the big ones, while registering births and deaths was also added to that chart. You’d never looked much into it, but knew it was intensive work. Everything ‘American’ going on in this city, your mom knows about.

“I’ve got a landfill of paperwork, so I’ll have to cut this off at the base,” she continues and you rub at the base of your cut with a flinching hand. You carefully tense as if a bombshell is going to be dropped on you, thighs shifting on the seat and feet unconsciously putting themselves farther under the chair.

The woman blinks at you and folds her hands on the table, knuckles tight.

“The Russian government is eager to keep lines of communication open with the USA, which means me.” You don’t like where this is going—certainly not with that folder that your mother was grabbing from out of her top drawer; having to unlock it with the name tag around her neck. A small beep echoes over the large room. “I don’t think I need to explain how much this puts me in a hole now that a stalker is after a Consul’s daughter and everyone knows about it.” You feel guilty but you don’t know why. This wasn’t your fault….right?

“I have meetings planned into next week from the second the sun rises until it peaks its stupid ass back up on the other end.” She speaks low, running a hand over her head but still keeping you in her sight. She slaps a bulging manila folder onto the desk and leans back with a sigh.

Your eyes meet in a locking of wills and you restrain yourself from apologizing. In your lap your hands clench.

“Any weapon,” she speaks slowly so you take in every word—as if you were a toddler. You hate when she gets like this. “Any goes through so many hoops to be owned it’s practically not worth it, and the same goes for possible parts used to make them. Whoever did this either has connections or a pile of money to use for bribes; I don’t know which I’d prefer, but based on his presents I have a good guess.”

“But why would someone do that?” You have to speak—to ask. How could someone be so cruel and malicious? Kill someone—multiple someones? To you, it was just unthinkable. Even just being a part of it had wreaked your sleep schedule, left you writhing in bed from an inability to sleep out of fear of seeing Yefim’s face again—gray blood; colorless gore. It was a chore to get up in the morning and eat what little you could.

Being unable to see color had never left you more terrified than when that pretty boy’s eyes had stared into yours until everything was snuffed out like a matchstick.

“Because this person,” the Consul states, answering you firmly. “He doesn’t care about you as an individual. To him, Beauty…you’re just an object that he wants to own. Your picture is all he thinks about and everyone else needs to be out of the background, do you understand?”

You go lightheaded, face quickly tilting down and contorting into itself.

Your mother sits straighter and reaches a hand across the table, lightly saying your name with the voice she would use to read stories in your youth. Skin burning, you look at it, but after a moment you weakly place your own into hers, heart hammering and brain laced with a primal fear. Though the woman’s grip tightens and squeezes lightly, you get no warmth from the gesture. Yet still, it’s better than nothing.

Alyona was away with her relatives and fiance since she’d been released from the hospital earlier; you’d spoken there briefly, but it wasn’t the same as it would have been if you’d had her here.

“We’re going to get this figured out, okay?” You nod, trying to smile as she studies your face—lingering on your temple before she frowns deeply and pulls back. Loudly, she states, “I’ll order some scar cream to your penthouse when we’re done.”

“Alright,” your lips mumble, ribs like iron cages for too-large lungs.

“But now into the important part. I need you to pick one.” She pushes the folder closer to you, and your hand snaps out to grab it. It instead punches the desk and you hiss, bringing it back to your chest. Your mother minutely blinks in shock, eyes confused. “Still with that Spatial Awareness? I thought you said it was getting better?”

“I’m…still working through it,” you grumble. You wanted to tell her there wasn’t any ‘getting better’ from this. It was just another problem you’d have to deal with your entire life. But, again, it’s easier.

She huffs as you correctly locate the folder and pick it up, placing it gently into your lap and flipping it open. Inside you find file after file, taking the first one into your fingers and propping it up before blinking in confusion at the black ink and tiny picture of a man.

You briefly look at the name, processing, before gazing back up at the woman with a furrow in your brows.

“Mom?”

She smiles.

“I have three men of Russian descent who are candidates to be your next around-the-clock guard.” Your matriarch is oblivious to your apparent hesitation to take on another person into your life, your shoulders hunching in. “All part of a PMC group called KorTac. I’d ask for a broader scale, but being born here and previously serving in the military would give them far more privileges than any others.”

You’re already shaking your head, “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. I still have to send my apologies to all the others’ families. I–I,” your voice cuts before you can let the tears weigh your sentence down with emotion.

Your mother didn’t do that kind of thing.

“Sweetheart,” the woman draws out, shaking her head, “they don’t want to hear from you, you know that.” Her voice hardens. “You’re my responsibility. Now, look at the options.”

Gritting your teeth, you want to stand and stalk out, say to hell with her PMCs and her bland eyes. The way she talks with care but hides it behind a wall of knives like some protective barrier; like she needs to do that.

But you stay your voice and look back down, brushing past pages to have all of the pictures lined up right next to each other.

Blinking, you ask, numbly, “What kind of privileges?”

Your mother smiles though a thankful breath. “Weapons, body armor; they’ll be allowed to enter and go about business as they see fit without normal blockades. People here trust their own.”

Fire races through your mind, all-consuming black smoke and the bland ash of a burning building. Trust their own? One of their own had just killed three people and injured three more just to get your attention. How was that trust?

Your eyes gloss over words, or what little of them you could read beyond inked-out sections. Names smudge and achievements blurr; medals with no hold on you and a list of missions accomplished with what you assumed to be perfect records.

“These men have killed people,” you say, shifting to the last file as you don’t look at it right away, instead leveling the Consul with a pleading twist to your lips. “A lot of people.”

As an individual, you wouldn’t say you were very confrontational or quick to jump to violence—you did damage control and appeased more than antagonized. There was less stress when everyone could get a portion of what they wanted.

You just didn’t like senseless brutality.

“Then there’s no one better for the job.” Sometimes you wonder if your mother even raised you at all.

Forehead creased, you shift back to the papers, staring at the last man of the three in a moment of flickering orbs. His intimidating appearance makes your eyes go slightly wider with shock as you focus in.

Nikto is all that was given for the man’s name—Russian: Никто—and the individual was shrouded in so much black you wondered if he might create a void of energy around him; some kind of gruff and grueling cloud. Even from the picture, the pale, contrasted, eyes dug into you, even brighter than Petya’s had once been. Though, these eyes were inlaid into some strange mask, the top of the covering a type of Kevlar and the bottom covered in rough canvas that pulls back and completely covers the rest of the head. There are straps that extend to hold his chin and on the sides of his nose…

Your face pulls with mild disgust. Are those two screws? What the hell…?

This Russian was, plainly put, the face of death. Perhaps even something worse.

The theme of black continued, as it was the only color besides white you could identify. Strapped vest of armor plates, arms and hands that rest behind his back covered by long sleeves. Ammo was clipped at the sides of his upper chest and a large collar of armor stamped with the letters and number of ‘MP-0’. Your eyes slide to what you can read about him, morbidly intrigued as you frown at his belt full of grenades and knives. An assault rifle hangs from his chest by a long strap, limp as a dead limb.

But as you look, there was even less information available about this beast than there was visible skin behind the face-paint smeared into his sockets. Not even an age.

“Nikto,” you murmur. You wondered why you liked how it slipped off the tongue.

But you’ll also wonder in the future why you choose him at all.

Maybe it was the way for the first time in two days you’d felt something other than fear and regret; something that spread like water into the lines of your face to make them smooth. Maybe it was because out of the others, he would be the type to do his job and then leave entirely without a trace.

A blink and then…gone.

You can't have anyone else die on you—and Nikto seems the only one able to take death by the throat and throttle him with the handle of his own scythe.

Maybe.

Your head tilted, and you blinked.

“This one,” you toss the file to your mother’s desk and watch it hit off-center. the woman’s face twitches at the monster-esc profile. It’s like she ages ten years.

“...Lovely.”

—

One day later you meet Nikto, but before you do, you make a quick visit to the hospital with a bundle of fresh flowers. You’d brokenly asked for blue and white, but you can’t verify if that was really what you were holding.

At the front desk, you ask for room three and are simply pointed down the hallway without a word. A small smile is handed over, but no one answers as you slink away, guiding your legs along the lines of the tile on the ground. Standing outside you knock softly and grasp the handle, pushing it open after a deep breath.

The Baker’s Boy lays in a bed and his dark eyes snap to yours immediately, widening. His curls are crisped and shorter now, singed at the ends. Arms taped with bandages and gauze, his wounds are not wide-spread but severe enough to keep him for longer than you and Alyona.

“Sergei?” You ask, standing in the doorway and plastering a soft smile on your face. You’d gotten his name through a text with Aly, where she asked you to give him a kind word as you dropped off your gift.

Sergi blinks quickly at you, and something like fear slashes his face. You raise your hands rapidly, flowers in the crook of your elbow.

“N-no, I’m sorry. I know you’ve probably heard a lot about me, the news has been…uh…” Your words trail to a fake chuff of laughter, looking to the side wall for a moment. “Well, it’s not right of me to take no blame.” The man only stares and stays silent, sitting up straighter in bed and thinning his lips. His body is tense.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to drop these off. I-I’ll leave.” Walking quickly to the side table, you place down the flowers and clear your throat, sending him a very guilty glance. “The woman I was with gives her well-wishes for your recovery. I’m sorry,” you say again, nodding your head and locking your hands in front of your abdomen.

Turning on your feet like an elite track star, you dart quickly back to the door.

“Girl.” You halt in the doorway, one arm quivering just as it had before the explosion. Your head swivels, surprised.

Sergi gazes at you, his dark eyes large and serious, tinged with unease. His English is barely understandable, and he struggles through the words with an accent so deep it’s a series of throaty grunts.

“Do not come back.”

Your lungs tighten as if someone squeezes them in a ruthless fist. Nodding shakily, you dash out and don’t stop until you’re back outside, breathing in gasps and putting a hand to your mouth to stifle your ragged breaths. People who come and go look at you as you lean heavily into the wall, some concernedly furrowing their brows but ultimately walking past.

You suppose they didn’t recognize you in all of the normal clothes—a thick turtleneck under a jacket and sweatpants. No makeup with a ball cap atop your head. Clearing your dry throat, you get a hold of yourself and keep your face down-cast, slithering off with a zig-zag pattern of feet.

It’s okay. It’s okay. He has a right to feel like that. It’s going to be okay.

But it doesn’t stop the pit in your heart from growing until it threatens to swallow you whole.

It’s only when you’re five minutes late to the Consulate building that your mother levels you with an unimpressed look, standing at the entrance with her arms crossed. You walk quickly to hide the rings around your eyes from her, not wanting to start an argument about what went wrong.

“He’s been here for half an hour, Seraph,” you cringe, waving to the woman at the front desk who nods and gives a pitying tilt of her head.

Half an hour? Talk about a time freak.

“I know, I’m sorry, I just lost track of time.” Hands take you by the side of your arms and swivel you back around as you hang up your jacket, making you flinch but go along with the action.

Your mother levels you with a stare that the long it goes on, eases. It mingles on the border of comfort and concern before she awkwardly squeezes and lets go of you, eyelids blinking to study the trash can near the door.

“Stop…apologizing, Beauty.” The curtain re-falls and your mom stands straighter, brushing down her fitted blouse and clearing her throat. “It’s unbecoming. Now, remember to smile—everyone loves your smile.”

You hide your yearning and plaster on a fake grin, feeling nervousness infecting your blood.

In your career, meeting new people was a requirement. Photographers, other models, business associates who reach out for brand deals; the list was long. Beyond a desirable body and the mask of provocative expressions, physical image was only a part of it—being good at playing sales broker added to appeal. At the parties AMA shipped you off to, especially.

Alyona often called the two of you exceptionally well-paid and up-standing sex workers, but withholding the intimacy of sheets and panting breath. You sold the idea of sex just by being there, which, oftentimes, is far better than the sin of flesh itself. Your agency knows it well.

Your face was an asset; just like your body and expressions—a tool.

But somehow you knew that whatever face you put on, model or the woman who’d just seen immense horror, it wouldn’t matter in the slightest. Just on a picture alone, Nikto had ingrained himself in your mind as an idol of seriousness and blunt orders. Not like Yefim, but somehow that made you feel better about this situation. It was even the reason you had chosen him in the first place.

No getting close to this one, you reason as your mother guides you down a hallway, hand firm on your back.

“Is there anything I can know besides his name?” Watching room after room passes you, you’re brought to the far back of the Consulate building. You study the large wooden door.

It’s a moment before your mom responds, rubbing lightly along your spine. “I’ve heard he’s a former FSB Agent. Spetsnaz as well. He has an extensive record, but no...concerns to worry about. You’re in exceptionally good hands.”

“Concerns?” A huff. “Like if he’ll kill me before the creep has the chance,” you’re leveled with a stiff look.

“No one is going to die, Seraph.” People already have.

With a frown, you grasp the handle and shrug off your mother’s touch, entering the room and letting the door shut behind you with a thump as you pad through. It’s only a millisecond, but you plaster back on a content expression and loosen your muscles; the internal warfare of constant tension makes everything ache.

You lock eyes with a standing absence of light.

In person, he was even more dark…and you didn’t just mean the outfit. Staring, bright eyes dig into your soul with no emotions—so departed from normal expression it’s like looking into a corpse.

Nikto’s standing with his hands behind his back, his shoulders loose but pulled with soldier-like authority. He’s tall, and the large bulk of his chest and thighs make you swallow down saliva as you stand still and blink quickly. His stomach bulges with muscle from under his armor—the same you’d seen in his profile.

The Russian was all the same except for the lack of weapons, though, the duffel bag at his side certainly held them in its inky depths.

He’s built like a damn brick wall, your mind blanks, not lying with the feelings of slight unease. Nikto was just…still. Not blinking. Watching you with a gleam of something strange. The Russian man’s eyes narrow with…disgust? Maybe you were reading too much into that, but one thing was certain.

He was studying you... aggressively. Prodding.

A second passes like this.

Oh, your face remains a plastered calm but your heart skips a beat, he’s waiting for me to introduce myself. You quickly clear your throat and walk forward, not seeing the way he tenses and sets his feet harder into the ground.

“Umh,” scolding yourself for your hesitation, you shakily put out a hand for him to shake, keeping a respectable distance away.

Finally, a slight movement; a dart of his eyes down to your limb.

“I’m Seraph, nice to meet you. You go by Nikto, right? Just Nikto…? I’m sorry, that was all I was able to read on your file.” You’re blinked at slowly, left gazing up into this beast's covered face and his terrifying mask of fabric and rigid material.

How tall can a man be before it becomes insulting to be standing next to him?

As the silence continues, your hand stutters before you let it fall, awkwardly stuffing it into your pocket.

Alright.

“There was…” You lick your lips, glancing off to a gray picture on the far wall. “A lot of black ink, to be honest. Quite the record, huh?”

A strained chuckle bounces off the small space.

Nikto doesn’t respond and you blink quickly through confusion and growing embarrassment. Your face burns like a heat gun was set on it. A highly uncomfortable silence falls, but you very much doubt that the man in front of you even feels it like you do—a slow deterioration of your confidence.

And why in the hell was he still looking at you like that?! All you’d done is walk through the damn door and lock eyes with him!

But then he speaks as you’re just about to turn away and walk out of the room with your tail between your legs, mentally exhausted and needing to put ice on your forehead.

“Seraph, like angel?” Broken English, but better than Sergi’s. What caught you was the depth of it—the rough scrape of vocal cords and raspy grit. Sandpaper, nearly. You restrain yourself from cringing. Nikto scoffs and he looks away from you, stance immobile. “You do not look like angel.”

Your mind takes a moment to latch onto the words, jaw slackening in shock and lashes fluttering for a second. “E…excuse me?”

Nikto grunts and glares at the door.

It’s your turn to stare, mouth opening and closing with small smacks of lips with a sudden blankness to your brain. Your ability to speak seems to leave you in a small instant between the stab of insult and brief anger. While you felt yourself above the base instinct of vexation, Nikto’s words had soaked you in their substance of prodding bluntness.

Your beauty was all you had, certainly, he hadn’t meant that. Surely it was just a translation error. Your lips darken with a frown, eyes flashing.

But something else pierces you in the chest, too.

Without another exchange, you turn around and begin walking to the exit, hands in your pockets clenched into your palms. There’s a silent padding of feet right behind you and the shuffle of a duffel bag. Your body freezes and you slowly look over your shoulder.

The Void follows, bag in hand and dead eyes peeling back your psyche as if this was normal; you find him a few steps forward from where he was, like your own personal shadow.

He freezes as you do, but this is more… purposeful. Both of you lock gazes, nothingness and veiled discourse flaring.

But you were better than that.

You had to be better.

So you soften your expression and, under your breath, sigh heavily. “I’ll write you up my schedule,” Nikto blinks, brows barely pulling in. “Get you a copy from AMA or something.”

“Already acquired.” His hulking figure seems to always be tense and ready to strike. For a second you’re reminded of Petya with a sharp slap to your face. But Nikto’s bark is far sterner if that was even possible. Almost like a single sound.

You bring a hand to itch at your temple, stopping before you can peel at the soft skin covered in scar cream.

“...Right,” at a slight loss of what to do, you shuffle your feet and open the door—leaving the room and holding the thing partially open behind you for the Russian. “Of course.” Your grumble only meets your ears, put off.

Nikto moves out of the doorway, having to slightly tilt his shoulders to fit through the opening without slamming into the frame. He does so fluidly and almost robotically.

“Has anyone ever told you that you walk like a scary dog?” You let go of the door and pull ahead, smiling somewhat more real as the light eyes snap down at you. There’s a brief grunt of breath from behind his mask.

Nikto is silent for a long while, growling out, “Hет.” Formal. Brisk.

No.

You get the feeling that you’re annoying him, but you can’t help but slightly enjoy it. Finally, some semblance of normality you could cling to. “Well, they should,” you admit, studying the loping walk—a slightly tilted pace that would suit a wolf or a bear, even. Making sure your own hand slides against the wall to keep you in a straight line, you continue, cheekily. “Because you do.”

Nikto stares straight ahead and stays silent, something akin to irritation in his visible portions; free hand twitching. You tilt your head.

“Y’know, this would be better if you could hold a conversation.”

“Да.” You smile wider.

“So you’ll have a conversation with me?”

“Hет.” Nikto glares from a side-eye, the words hissed through clenched teeth. If he was this easy to rile up, this would be more fun than you thought.

Your eyes linger on his form, the biceps, and the forearms that strain behind padded pieces of thick material. Combat boots and loose black cargo pants shoved into them.

This might be a good distraction, at the very least. Let the authorities work in the background and keep this cut of the crop. No feelings, of course. Not like Yefim, you remind yourself again. Never again like Yefim.

The dead man’s face slips behind your eyelids and you blink your face forward.

“Are you only going to say ‘yes’ or ‘no?’” Nikto’s bulk enshrouds you heavily as you take a right back to the lobby where your mother waits. He hums in his throat, before muttering something under his breath in harsh Russian. You have no idea what that means or if you even want to decipher it, you shrug and shut up.

It was probably a curse anyway. Or a plea for reassignment.

Your mother’s face pulls tight as Nikto shows himself beside you, his sights locking onto the Consul as you grab your jacket, missing the hook once before you grasp it firmly and slip it on.

“If everything is in order…?” She trails, before frowning at the man and coming over to you.

“We can always find a way to bring you back to the States,” you blink, her face serious as it slashes through you. “Get your passport up to date and find a different modeling agency.”

What’s with the change in attitude? You ask yourself, brows pulling in and studying your mom’s expression. She’s older, but maybe you’re only realizing it now that you care to look. Wrinkles and a certain film to her gaze that parents seem to grow when they’re trying to convince you of something.

Nikto watches and listens closely a few feet from the door, duffel bag still in hand.

“You know that’s not an option. Allurement is exclusive—I won’t get a better deal than the one I have.” Your words come out confused. “Weren’t you the one that told me this was the best option, that they would be the only ones to take me?” You pause. “Especially with the way I am?”

Her face twists, shaking her head instantly with a scrunched nose and flashing orbs. Even mentioning what happened made her act like water near the brim of a glass; one shake and the liquid would seep over and pool to the counter. “I don’t remember saying that.”

You close your mouth before changing the subject, offering an easy, yet strained, smile.

“I’m going to be okay, Mom. Besides, the guy’ll get caught before we know it. All of them do. Petya, Aleksandr, and Yefim,” your voice tightens, “will get to rest easy.”

Your matriarch gives a small twitch of her lips back, kisses your forehead, and says, “Alright, Beauty,” you hide your cringe, “I’m one call away.”

She walks off with a click of her heels.

“Girl,” you look up from zipping your jacket. Nikto glares at you. “быстро. Hurry up.”

“Hurry up?” Your voice bounces as you make your way to the exit, sending a thinly hidden face of amusement. “I’m just going home, there’s no rush to things.”

“We need to secure the premises.”

We? You nearly ask, wondering what he meant. Obviously, he didn’t mean you and him, based on general attitude right now. Maybe that was just a strange quirk of his.

“Around my penthouse?” Nikto’s shoulder presses on the barrier and he’s outside before you can finish your sentence. You narrowly catch the door and slip past like a horrible snake, elbow slapping the frame—you hold back a hiss and enter the street. “I…I don’t think it’s overly necessary, the police move through that area a lot—”

“Not the penthouse, Whelp,” you struggle along, feet rapid to stay at his side and multitask by staying in a line. He walks in long strides, parting people away from him with only a sharp glance and a scoff. “Inside.”

Your body halts before you blink back to your senses and make a noise in the back of your throat.

“I-inside, Nikto? I’m sorry, I’m not following.” You huff under your breath and stick beside him, using his presence as a sort of barrier. He walks near the road. “I never agreed to that. And Whelp? What the hell, man?”

“I do not care.”

“You’re just a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” You grumble, sighing.

I guess I’m having guests.

Has your mother given permission for that? A stranger with weapons thumping inside of your penthouse like he was your live-in boy toy? Eating in your kitchen and putting his feet up on the coffee table? God, the public would have a field day with it when they saw him walking down with you in the morning to go to work.

He couldn’t have been put in the building across the street? But you suppose there are worse things that can happen—you have the space for it. With a dejected expression, you sigh; you seem to be doing that a lot recently.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Nikto stares down at you as your feet stutter along, seeming to raise a brow in annoyed question as to why you were struggling to keep up.

You wondered how much he had been told beyond some rich Consul's daughter needed a new bodyguard. Did he know any of it?

“What?” Your lips twist, smile flicking out. “See something you like?”

“No. You’re slow.” You hide your groan and face forward, brows falling into a line.

But you’re not oblivious to the way his piercing eyes survey the crowd, and while the mask is drawing attention, random people peeping break off like sticks as he’s clocked by you, darting to make room. How his large shoulders span and block the road from you, pace pulling back to fit right behind you with a low grunt as your arms brush.

A grunter too—he really is a scary dog.

“Why do you walk like this,” Nikto growls. “Are you unable to feel your feet? It is pathetic.”

“Are you going to stop insulting me?” You glare ahead and cross your arms. “Or are you going to keep playing the jerk until this is over?”

His eyes burn into yours for a moment, before he places such a heavy hand on your shoulder that you almost squeak at the pressure. It nearly slants you forward before your back tightens.

“Keep quiet. Walk.”

“Well, now I don’t think I’m going to,” his eyes flash, those colorless films going into themselves with tiny flecks of surprise. You suppose no one’s ever had banter like this with him before, being in a PMC…or really just being him as a whole. He doesn’t seem the joking type over a back-handed sarcastic comment.

“So, how has your day been, Nikto?” Your voice is smug and your smile large, perfect and bright, and ravishing. “Today I woke up at five AM and ate an apple with yogurt. Then I—”

Nikto growls deeply and forces you on through a gawking crowd.

The rest of the walk is filled with a one-sided conversation coming from a grinning face, pale, boiling eyes, and the shadow across the street who watches through the thin glass of a bookstore. The perfect view.

A hat on his head.

A slight distance to his addled expression.

A medium slip-joint knife in his pocket.

TAGS:

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dixonsdolls · 11 months

Text

DARYL DIXON NSFW HEADCANONS

enjoy this <3 just a little something until i can get the next chapter of timeless out and a oneshot! hopefully stuff will be out this week but please bare with me, life has been hectic <3 it’s definitely all over the place but anyways ily all so much and thank you so much for 300 followers!

warnings: MDNI (18+ CONTENT) sexual content

— ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆ a quick summary: daryl dixon fucks

➳❥ to start, he loves making out. like straight up filth, no pretenses or anything. he likes it dirty and if he can get you off like that, he will. his favorite thing is to have you on his lap, a whimpery little mess, lips slick with his spit, with his hands gripping your hips and forcing you to hump him.

➳❥ there’s not a lot of time to be intimate and sometimes he just gets so worked up, even in the most inconvenient situations, that he’ll steal you away and get you off. whether it’s on a run and he’s fingers deep inside your cunt, swallowing your sweet noises or eating you out against the bathroom counter at one of alexandria’s parties, he’s always gonna have his way with you.

➳❥ obviously, it being the end of the world means that anyone can lose anyone at any given moment. that being said, his favorite position is missionary. he loves seeing your face and he wants to memorize every single expression, every little freckle and moan, so he can store it away for safe keeping.

➳❥ if he gets separated from you on a run, whether that be from enemies or walkers, he’ll fight like hell to find you and when he does, he fucks your brains out, no matter where you are. he gets so possessive and the need to be close to you consumes him until he’s sinking inside you.

➳❥ if you start acting bratty on a run and stop listening to his suggestions, he gets pissed, especially if it ends up with you almost dying from stubbornness. right when you get home, he lets you have it. he spanks you because why would you put yourself in danger? then, once you’re all teary eyed and flushed in the face, he fucks you silly. he doesn’t let you come, though. at least, not until he’s sure you’ve learned your lesson and he’s fucked the brattiness out of you, grunting out ‘done bein’ such a fuckin’ brat, sunshine?’

➳❥ don’t get it twisted, though. while he can be dominant, he loves it when you take charge. he loses his shit when you ride him because you’ll hold his hands down and even though you both know he could overthrow you, he lets it happen because it makes him come that much faster.

➳❥ one of his favorite things is rough sex, but he also loves when it’s slower, more passionate. sometimes he needs to show you how much he loves you with not only his words, but slow, deep thrusts and his fingers against your clit.

➳❥ he loves blow jobs. it’s like the minute your mouth gets on him, he blacks out. when you deepthroat him, that’s when he’s truly vocal. he’ll grab your hair and let out animalistic grunts as he starts to fuck your face. it’s not often you get to give him one, but when it happens, he makes sure to bask in it.

➳❥ he loves marking, too. whether that be you wearing his clothes and the bracelet he made you or leaving your neck surface covered in purple bruises and come on your face and tits, he fuckin’ loves it. even though it’s pretty clear you’re his and he’s yours, some assholes still hit on you. so, when you show up for a shift with a neck full of hickies and some of the dickheads that flirted with you see it, it makes something feral go off inside him.

☾ ﾟ｡⋆ — now for some mechanic!daryl <3

❥ mechanic!daryl who’s grumpy and hates the world until it comes to you. even if it’s still the world before, he’s not very good at talking about his feelings, so he shows you instead.

❥ he treats you like a princess in public, but once you’re alone, he treats you like a fuckin’ slut.

❥ it’s like the minute you’re away from prying eyes, he has to fuck you. he has to get you off and whining his name or else he’ll burst from how he feels about you.

❥ when you first got together, he’d always be covered in grease and sweat from a long day at the garage. he assumed you’d be repulsed but learned very quickly it was the oppposite. him being dirty made you a whiny, loud mess and at the sight of your wet cunt taking him in with ease, moans pouring from your swollen lips, he decided then and there to keep it up. and if he purposely got messy at work, then no one had to know.

❥ his favorite position is doggy, hands down. he loves the way he can see your ass jiggle each time he enters you, loves the way your pussy swallows him up from the angle. he loves fucking you from behind too because then he wraps your hair in a makeshift ponytail and pulls. he pulls your hair so hard he uses it to fuck you back into his thrusts.

❥ creampies are an absolute must for him. the idea of you being filled to the brim with him makes shivers run down his spine. a more animalistic part of him likes the idea of you walking around town with panties soaked with him. he loves to just fuck you full until he’s spilling out of you and dripping down your thighs.

❥ one of his favorite things to do is to finger your, no matter where you are and who’s around. he has no shame in saying he’ll steal you away from your friends and shove his fingers inside your cunt until it’s all weepy and convulsing around him. the wet sounds of your pussy make him lose it, so much so he’ll definitely stuff your mouth with his dick next.

❥ he’ll fuck you on his bike, 100%. the sight of you on the motorcycle already has him hard in his pants, so when he has you straddling him and his dick is inside you, with the engine still on, and the noises you make unlike anything he’s heard before, he makes it a regular thing.

❥ he loses it when you make out, especially if it’s a messy one. the idea of your lips being swollen and wet with his spit makes him feral, and if he can, he’ll absolutely spit in your mouth.

❥ above all, though, whether it’s twdverse daryl or not, he’ll fuck your brains out.

#daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion x reader #daryl x y/n #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixion imagine #daryl imagines #norman reedus #the walking dead #daryl x reader

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dreamywriter143 · 1 year

Text

Nihona

Status: Part One (1/3)

Parings: Neteyam x Reader (Step SiblingReader), Sully’s x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Angst, Romance, Fluff, Jealously, Forbidden Love Troupe, Step-Siblings, suggestive content!!, NSFW/MDNI (A small scene in this chapter) Masturbation, Slight exhibition/in a public place?, All characters are AGED-UP.

Summary: Miréya and Neytiri have been best friends since birth. Miréya was always by her side, comforting her when she lost her sister and when the sky people attacked. Neytiri loved her as if she was her own sister. Loosing her was unbearable for her and Jake. What will happen when they take in what is left off her? Take care of her daughter who is completely alone in this world? How will she adapt to her new family?

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: Due to popular demand I'm continuing this mini series. This chapter does has suggestive content so please proceed with discretion. Also there are a lot of separate sections with tiny timeskips. Please bare with me😅 Other then that I hope you enjoy!

*Still under rough editing, please excuse any mistakes!*

__________________________________________

“Why are you avoiding me?” Neteyam finally managed to corner Y/n. Leaving her no route of escape. Y/n chews her lower lip nervously as her eyes dart around aimlessly. She made sure not to make eye contact with Neteyam knowing fully well it would make her heart feel weird again.

“What do you mean? Why would I avoid you?” Y/n shrugs, shuffling under his stare uncomfortably.

Neteyam gulps at her bruised lips, the product of her chewing them nervously. He couldn’t help but recall the events that left him breathless. That urged him to confront her which only got him to realize she was actively avoiding him.

“You’re barely around. You don’t come with me to training anymore and you don’t wanna accompany me on rides! Riding our Ikran’s together-” Neteyam gestures in the space between them. “-that’s our thing”

Y/n finally looks up, her breath hitched as she stared into his beautiful yellow hues. It was true that she had been avoiding him, but not for reasons he beat himself over, no. She was avoiding him due to her own revelation.

The reason why she felt so giddy near her older brother, the reason why she always followed him around and hated when girls their age would try to gain his attention. It was love, infatuation.

After the ‘practice’ kiss Y/n had realized, she loved him. She loved her own brother as a lover. As a potential mate. And that disturbed the girl in unimaginable ways. She knew Neteyam didn't feel the same, he even reminded her prior and after the kiss that it was a ‘practice’, that it had no meaning. But Y/n just couldn’t help it.

She began to contemplate her whole existence. Why was she born into a family where she fell head over heels for her brother? The connection she felt towards him, the tug she felt that always lured her into his embrace. It was as if fate was mocking her, being cruel to her. Why was she cursed?

She always felt like something was missing in her life. Never once did her parents, Jake and Neytiri, refer to Y/n as their ‘daughter’. Though they showered her with love, when anyone asked about her it was always Y/n this, Y/n that. Not how they would refer to Kiri. As their daughter.

This confused the girl which always left her empty. Luckily Neteyam was always there, always ready to hold her tight ensuring she was safe and secure. That she was loved. In Y/n’s eyes, falling for Neteyam was inevitable.

“No-I’m….I’m sorry Neteyam. I’ve been in a really weird headspace lately” Y/n admits, stepping closer to her brother. Neteyam immediately engulfs her into a bone crushing embrace as Y/n lets out a sigh of relief. She feels her entire body let loose, beginning to melt into the embrace as her senses filled with his comforting scent.

“Then tell me about it. Tell me what you feel. How you feel. I’ll always be here for you, Y/n. No matter what” Neteyam murmurs, his heart beating erratically at the fact he finally had her in his arms after being apart for what felt like forever.

Y/n pulls back, peering up at her brother who smiles down at her. His braids falling past his face as she gently brushed them aside. He loved how Neteyam kept his hair long, braided neatly and let loose. she ha told him on numerous occations how it framed his face beautifully.

“I don’t want to burden you”

“How could you? You are never a burden. I’m your brother, you are my responsibility.” Neteyam assures. Y/n’s eyes widened at his words, everything he said was true. She was foolish for loving him when he was the perfect brother to her. She realized then and there she would have to get over her childish crush. For her brother's sake.

“I’m sorry for keeping my distance Neteyam….forgive me?” Y/n asks timidly as Neteyam beams. He squeezes her tightly against him in pure glee.

“Of course baby sister!”

~~~~~~~~~~~6 Years Later~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n and Neteyam are both 19, turning 20 soon)

As the years flew by, Y/n and Neteyam’s bond only grew. In many ways more than one.

Neteyam grew to be a great warrior, training every day and achieving feats unimaginable and heavily admired by the tribe. He grew to be the definition of perfection, being nicknamed the ‘Prince of the Omatikaya’. He was widely admired and praised. The whole clan saw him as the perfect future leader as they marveled at his accomplishments.

Not only did he prove himself over the years but he grew to be quite handsome. Attracting many suitors along the way. None of which caught his attention, though many had tried.

Luckily Jake and Neytiri never pressured him to find a mate, but the clan did not forget. Many would approach him with requests, many older Na’vi offering their daughters for the privilege to be his mate which he always politely declined.

How could he? How could he even think about finding a mate when Y/n looked like that.

“Would you look at that~~~” No'eng, Neteyam’s friend whispers, his eyes trained on a certain female Na'vi.

Neteyam and his friend had been near the river gutting and cleaning the fish they had caught earlier in the day. Across them a few children jumped around in the water playfully.

Neteyam looks up, his pupils dilating as they land on the very person his best friend openly gawked at. Y/n giggles as she splashes some water towards Tuk who dogged just in the nick of time.

Over the years Y/n had also grown. Though Neteyam hoped and prayed his feelings would dissipate over the years growing alongside her, it didn't. She grew up to be beautiful. Her beauty and skills were admired amongst the clan.

She grew a few feet taller, still shorter than Neteyam and many other men. Her long locks reaching past her shoulders, always perfectly braided to her liking. Somehow always having beads and pearls that would always catch Neteyam's eyes.

And her body, Neteyam always felt himself get hot when he thought of that. He desperately tried not to notice her physical development, but the longer he stared. The more tempted he got. The deeper his desires became.

The way her bust grew, larger than many other female Na’vi but that much desirable. Neteyam often caught himself gazing at them, daydreaming about how they would feel against his hands. Her tiny waist that he knew would fit perfectly against his hands.

The list goes on and on.

She was perfect, she is perfect. Not just to Neteyam but to many other males. Something Neteyam hated.

“That's my sister No'eng, watch yourself” the sharpness in Neteyam’s tone causes the boy to quickly look away, apologizing quietly. It was well known that Neteyam protected all his siblings, especially Y/n. He made it his mission to keep everyone with lingering glances away, all because he knew what they meant.

Which is why he was that much more protective over her. No one was good enough for his sister, not even himself.

Neteyam’s ears twitched to the sound of Y/n’s laughter, it sounded so beautiful and serene. Neteyam glances over at his sister, a smile twitching along his lips. He watches how she gets splashed with water, claiming vengeance against Tuk who cowers away in mock fear.

Neteyam’s face heats up as his eyes zone on the droplets of water that cascaded down her body, past her neck and into the confines of her top that shifted amidst all her movement. He gulps as his eyes catch the delicious sight of her nipples under her top now that it stuck onto her after getting wet.

Clearing his throat loudly Neteyam forces his attention to the fish in hand. Ignoring the throbbing in between his legs.

~~~~~~

“N-Neteyam, we shouldn't” Y/n whispers, her eyes scrunched up in pleasure as she lays before her brother. His hands caged her in between them as he propped himself above her, his lips swipe along his lips as he tried to burn the image deep into his brain.

Y/n, sprawled underneath him with her hair spread out. Her face flush with embarrassment and lust, and her eyes dilated in desire. The same desire he felt shock through him,

“Fuck, I know nihona, I know. I just can't help myself” (Sweet) Neteyam whines, his tone laced with pain from holding himself back. He felt his resolve disappear the more he watched her tremble underneath him. How long he had wished for this, how long he dreamed of this. To have her so close, withering under his heated touch.

Neteyam slides his knee up along her inner thigh, coming in contact with her hot cunt that causes her to jolt in surprise. “O-oh! N-Neteyam '' Y/n moans, closing her eyes at the feeling of him rubbing against her soaked folds. Neteyam sighs out loud, feeling her essence soak through the fabric, his knee working along her pussy.

“Y-yes love. Say my name, just-l-like that” Neteyam gasps out. Who knew that Y/n gasping his name would sound so delicious? So addicting?

Neteyam leans down, brushing his nose up against her neck. Finding the optional spot to take in a deep breath as her scent invaded her senses. He swipes his tongue along her delicate skin as she whimpers at the new, but welcomed sensation.

“I need to be inside you, my nihona. P-please” Neteyam begs breathlessly. Unconsciously he bucks into the cot they were sprawled upon, seeking any sort of friction. Though every primal instinct in him wanted to take her no questions asked, he had to hear her admit to wanting it just as badly as him. Y/n shivers under him at his words.

“N-Neteyam. I-I”

Neteyam jolts awake, a thick layer of sweat drenching his body. Tiny gasps escape him as he looks around to his surroundings trying to get a grip of where he was. He tries to calm down his heart rate as his eyes take in what was around him.

He realizes he’s in his family tent, tucked away is his respective corner. It was a dream, it was a fantasy he dreamt of every day. Though he lived for his fantasies, it only proved to be a curse when he realized that's all it was. A fantasy. Feeling uncomfortable under his weaved cloth he pulls it over, gasping at the sight.

“Shit”

Neteyam curses under his breath seeing his member hard and already leaking from the dream he had. He had to take care of this, it didn’t seem to go down even after he realized he had a wet dream in the comfort of his own home with his family soundlessly asleep around him.

Just as Neteyam lifts his covers fully to silently get out of bed he hears the tiniest whimper from beside his cot, freezing at the sound he looks around the tent for any movement. His ears twitch and strain to listen to the sound only to be rewarded with a tiny moan.

He’d recognize that voice anywhere. His cock twitched once he realized what he was hearing.

“Hmm” Y/n whimpers out, shuffling around on her own cot. The sounds of her fingers working against her slick folds seem to echo through the tent.

Neteyam felt like he was already a terrible brother from having the dream he was enjoying so greatly. Now he felt horrible listening in on his sister's tiny cries as she pleasures herself. Why did he convince his parents to have their cots right next to each other?

Neteyam lays back down quietly, trying to ignore the sounds that seem to zone in on him. Her breathless whimpers, the squelching sounds of her juices as she desperately pumps in and out of her puffy cunt for a release.

Neteyam closes his eyes, his cock straining against his loincloth at her moans. He couldn't calm down now even if he wanted to. Not when she sounded so sensual.

After coming to the conclusion he couldn't do anything right now without being found out he was awake and hard, Neteyam reaches down to pull his loincloth to the side. He hisses as the cool air hits his hard cock as he wraps his fingers around the girthy shaft.

He spreads precum across the tip and along the length. Neteyam gently pumps along his member while closing his eyes at the feeling. Y/n’s moans only increase in intensity as she nears her peak, prompting Neteyam to pump his cock faster to cum the same time as her.

“F-fuck” Y/n whispers out. Neteyam bites back a moan that threatens to escape as he increases his speed.

That night Neteyam had the best orgasm he had in years, all while fucking himself to the sound of his little sister. Just as she pleasured herself not knowing her brother heard every moan, every whimper.

~~~~~~~

“Shit! Neteyam!” Y/n runs alongside Kiri as it had been announced that the war party had returned. Y/n caught a glimpse of her injured brother which only prompted her to push her legs faster, coming to stop right in front of him. Her fingers reach out to touch him to which he holds his hand up in protest.

Neteyam shakes his head as Y/n rolls her eyes, taking his arm into her hand as she examines the wounds and traces of blood.

“Y/n, Kiri, Will you please help your grandmother with the wounded, please?” Jake asks, briefly turning his attention away from lecturing his sons to his daughters who didn't seem that bothered by his harsh words.

“Our brother is wounded, dad” Kiri speaks up in annoyance, Y/n furrows her eyes on her brother's face who looks to be on the verge of tears. She seemed to drown out what her father was saying as all she could focus on was her dear brother.

After Jake tosses a few more words their way Neytiri orders Y/n to patch Neteyam up who agrees immediately, dragging the older male to their family tent. Upon entry they see Mo’at had all the ointment already set up and ready, but she was nowhere to be found. Not wanting to wait any longer Y/n pulls Neteyam to sit down on a mat while she plops down across him

Neteyam’s ears twitch nervously , he glances at his sister who hasn't uttered a single word. His eyes follow her as she gathers to ointment in her fingers, rubbing them together to warm up the paste. Feeling his ears drop at the lack of response, Neteyam clears his throat which causes Y/n to finally look at him. But not with the smile he had been waiting all day for.

“Is it that hard to follow orders?” Y/n hisses, her ears folded back showing she was actually worried for Neteyam despite her harsh tongue. Neteyam gulps at her words.

“You know how Lo’ak is, I was try-”

“You didn't try hard enough!” Y/n hisses. Tears began to form along her irises as she tried to hold them back.

“You promised me-you promised to be careful! You said you'd be careful for me!” Neteyam couldn’t help but frown. The morning of the raid, when Y/n brought him in for a tight hug, she made him promise to come back to her unscathed. He did promise. No wonder she is upset.

“You think I like seeing you like this? You think it pleases me to see someone I-my brother in pain?” Y/n stumbled over her words, her cheeks flushing when she realized she almost slipped up during her emotional rant. The whole time Neteyam stayed quiet. He deserved this, he should be protecting his sister. Not causing more stress for her like he did now.

“You have no idea how much you mean to me. How….how much I care” Y/n mumbles in defeat, wiping the stray tears that disobeyed her orders as they ran along her cheeks. Neteyam scoots closer to her, using his finger to lift her chin up to look into his awaiting eyes.

“I know, I’m a skxawng for making my sister worry. It won't happen again, I'll be extra careful I promise , I swear by Ewya-” Y/n smiles at his words, leaning her forehead against his. Neteyam ignored the stinging pain his wounds provided, relishing the moment when he felt her heat against him.

“-and I know how much you care. Because I care for you, I know how you feel” Neteyam whispers.

Y/n’s eyes widen as she stares at Neteyam. Her breath hitched at his words. “Y-you do?” she asks, her breath fanning against him.

Y/n leans closer to her brother, seeking more of his warmth. Though Neteyam’s eyes widened in slight fear at how close she got, he couldn't help but glance at her pouty lips. As if waiting for something, wanting something to brush up against.

Just as Neteyam feels himself lean closer, the sound of the tent flaps rustling causes the duo to jump apart from one another. They share a nervous glance as Mo’at walks in, her eyes tracing over them.

“You have not tended to his wounds yet?” She asks in slight annoyance as Y/n scurries to stand up. She felt her entire face flush at almost being caught at such a compromising position.

‘I almost kissed him! Kissed Neteyam!’

Y/n doesn’t dare look back at Neteyam as she walks to the entrance. “I-I’m sorry grandmother. I need some f-fresh air” Y/n says before quickly rushing out.

Mo’at sighs before walking to her grandson in disappointment. The entrance flutters open as Lo’ak, Kiri, Spider and Tuk rush in to be there for Neteyam.

Neteyam’s shoulders drop, his eyes training on the mat below him.

‘I fucked up’

~~~~~~

Y/n rushed to the only place she felt calm.

After many years she kept denying her feelings for her brother, always pretending like it didn’t exist even though her feelings only grew over the years. The only place she seemed to have a peace of mind was Vitraya Ramunong (Tree of Souls).

Where she went to express her feelings, pour them out as she surrounded herself with the warmth of her ancestors. Specifically two Na’vi, who always met with her when she connected to it. Two figures she has still yet to know the identity of.

“Y/n?” A sweet voice calls, Y/n whips around at the sound of the comforting voice. Her eyes welling with tears as the woman walks closer to her, her arms stretched wide as she pulls her in for an embrace.

“What’s wrong dear? Why are you upset?” The woman asks, her eyes looking down at the smaller girl who weeps freely in her arms. Y/n didn’t know the connection she had with this Na’vi, only that the woman brought her great comfort. And that she was always there when Y/n connected with the spirit tree. As if waiting for her.

“I-it’s…my feelings. I feel so conflicted. I feel…such a burden and disappointment!” Y/n admits , pulling back from her embrace. The woman smiles softly, pulling Y/n along with her to a large log . There sat a male, an older Na’vi man who smiled warmly at Y/n.

He pats the spot beside him as Y/n takes a seat. The woman following closely after,

“What feelings? Is it love?” The woman asks, reaching her hand to gently stroke Y/n’s locks. Y/n feels her shoulders relax, her sobs calming down at the action.

“I…I love him so much. I just don’t know why? Why can’t I stop? I can’t stop myself from feeling this way…I-I shouldn’t love him!” Y/n whispers. The man beside her chuckles, patting her back,

“And why not? Love is a beautiful thing, if you’ve loved him for this long, isn’t it worth fighting for?” The man asks, his eyes crinkled as he smiles wide.

“I can’t, it’s not that simple”

“Oh? Do tell?” The woman muses, her eyes shining with a knowing look.

“I-it’s Neteyam…..I love Neteyam” Y/n whimpers. She had previously told the man and woman about her family after she had visited many times before.

Y/n looked to her lap shame, she waited for the helpful Na’vi’s to wretch at her confession. Her feelings were taboo, wasn't it? But none came, instead the woman giggled bashfully.

“The best advice I could give you is to trust your feelings, trust your love for Neteyam. Love is sacred, you wouldn’t feel this strongly for him if it didn’t mean anything. Ewya has a way for everything, I’m sure Ewya has plans for you two” the woman says mysteriously.

Y/n feels herself smile to herself before turning to both the man and woman. “Thank you….I needed to hear that. I’ve been so confused lately….thank you both” Y/n whispers happily.

Y/n starts to feel herself slowly drift out of the connection. Realizing she was running out of time she frantically looks between the two.

“Who are you, why won’t you tell me who you are?” Y/n asks hurriedly. Feeling her connection weaver at a rapid pace.

“When you're ready” the man replies, patting her head just as she disappears. Once again now knowing who they truly were.

The man and woman look to one another with knowing looks.

“Our little girl has grown up so much,” the woman says softly, tearing up. The man pulled her for a tight embrace agreeing with her words.

“Yes, she's beautiful Mirèya”

~~~~~~

Neteyam searched for Y/n the moment his grandmother gave him the green light to leave. Even though his injuries still stung, all he could remember was the brief look of fear he caught in Y/n's expression when they almost kissed.

He cursed himself for slipping up after many years of control. How could he have been so stupid?

Hearing some hushed voices Neteyam’s hurried steps come to a stop. He leans against the tent noticing his mother and father whispering amongst themselves unaware of him eavesdropping.

“She has a right to know Neytiri. The girl has been confused her entire life! She wants answers. We can give them to her” Jake says in a hushed tone. Neteyam furrows his eyebrows, wondering who they were talking about.

“No, it is not time Ma’Jake. This is the will of Ewya. I promised Y/n’s mother I will take care of her and I will. We’ll tell her eventually.” Neytiri says in a stern voice.

Neteyam's eyes widen once the words reach his ears, losing his balance as he tries to process what he had just heard.

Neteyam stumbles in the sight of his parents who stare at him with shock and fear of being caught. Jake goes to open his mouth but once Neteyam regains the composure he steps closer to them, his gaze set hard. He was never one to stand against his parents, especially his father. But at the moment all proper thoughts flew out the window.

“What is the meaning of this?!”

“Neteyam-“

“No, what do you mean by Y/n’s mother? Is Y/n not my sister?!” Neteyam demands, his heart racing a mile per minute. Neytiri looks to Jake, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She turns to her son as she realized she had no choice but tell him the truth,

~~~~~~~

Neteyam's feet carry him across the forest floor with urgency, his smile stretched across his face wide. After hearing the truth , both Jake and Neytiri gave him permission to tell Y/n. He was ecstatic over the fact she would finally retrieve a piece of her she didn't know she had. And also happy for other reasons.

It felt like forever since his heart felt so full, so happy. He had learned that Y/n wasn't his sister, she was taken in when her mother passed. That meant everything he felt, everything he dreamt of was possible. It meant he had a chance.

Neteyam runs into the cleaning noting Y/n was sitting under the Spirit Tree, her arms around her knees as she looks up at the glowing tendrils

“Y/n!” Y/n jolts at the sudden voice, her head snapping to Neteyam directions while she quickly wipes her tears away,

“Neteyam! What are you doing here?” She asks as Neteyam walks over to her. His smiles disappears in a instant and he sits down beside her, his eyes tracing over her in case of any injury.

“Why are you crying?”

Y/n chuckles weakly, wiping her cheeks, “Oh, I haven’t noticed. Sorry,” she says sheepishly. Neteyam quirks his eyebrow reaching up to swipe his thumb against her puffy cheeks. A part of him jumps in joy watching how her cheeks turned purple under his touch.

“Why are you apologizing nihona? Are you alright? He whispers. Y/n giggles at the nickname. A nickname she adored as Neteyam had been calling her that for such a long time.

“Why do you call me nihona?” Y/n tries to divert the question, staring at Neteyam with curious eyes. Neteyam smiles softly at the girl, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Because you're the sweetest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on '' Neteyam admits, his truth out on full display. Y/n grins at his words, nuzzling against his hand that rested on her cheek.

“Now tell me, why are you upset? You know I hate it when you’re in tears,” Neteyam pulls her closer to him, causing her to let go of her knees. Neteyam maneuvers her into a comfortable position, also close to having her straddle him.

Y/n bites her lips at his question. Contemplating her words before glancing back at the glowing tendrils she was connected to not to long ago.

“I just…feel so empty sometimes. Like I’m missing something. It doesn’t help that I have these conflicting thoughts swirling in me, confusing my feelings… ”

Neteyam quirks an eyebrow at her words. He bit back the smile he had been holding, maybe what she had been missing in the very news he was eager to share at the moment? His hand glided along her arms all the way down her hand. He interlocks their fingers in a comforting gesture.

“Missing? What conflicted feelings?”

“I can’t explain it…it just makes me realize how lucky I am to have you guys-to have you Neteyam. I guess I realize how important you guys are to me. How important my family is,”

Neteyam nods, pulling her in for an embrace as she straddles his hip. Her body molding against his. The action had no Ill intentions, just comfort. Neteyam hums, urging her to continue.

“I guess what I'm trying to say is if our family gives me meaning…make me feel like I’m fulfilled” Y/n admits deciding to keep her deeper feelings hidden. She finally realized how important her family was to her but also that her love for Neteyam would never die. And that she would live with that. She would have to love him from afar.

“I see…..Sully’s stuck together Y/n. You’ll always have us, you have nothing to worry about nihona” Neteyam murmurs into her neck. His voice cracking up. He clears his throat to make sure she didn’t hear the pain that seeped through his carefully calculated words.

‘I can’t tell her’

Seeing how much his family meant to her, seeing how his family kept her from falling apart. Neteyam had to admit he couldn’t tell her about her true lineage.

For what? His own gain? So he could feel like his feelings had a shot of coming true one day?

Watching the pain across Y/n’s face, seeing the tears that slipped past her façade. Neteyam came to the grilling conclusion he couldn’t and wouldn't tell her. Not until she was ready. Which only meant he would probably never get the chance to admit his feelings to her. And he was fine with that heartbreaking realization.

“You’ll always have your brother”

___________________________________

A/N: I’m not proud of how this turned out. I’m having a dry spell with my work lately. I’m so sorry guys! I’m figuring things out, so hopefully the next part is better. Nevertheless I hope you enjoy!

Taglist:|

@thehoneymushroomhealer @im-in-a-pansexual-panik

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lazyjellyfish300 · 6 months

Text

DD pt 3 part 2 of 2

Fem reader x Miguel O'Hara who is your Uber driver

This art was commissioned to accompany this chapter by the incredibly talented @/ejpuki on Instagram. Please go support the original artist!

Pt 1 , Pt 2 , Pt 3 1 , Part 4 , Part 5

Synopsis- fem reader drinks too much and the bartender calls a random Uber for her which happens to be Miguel O'Hara himself. Her friends suck and ditch her. There's a lot of tension on the ride home...

TW: MINORS DNI, some blood, little.violence, suggestive content ,age gap (reader 26, Miguel 34), this one is a sad one, inspired by the original comic

-----

Over the next few days you two text back and forth and talk on the phone. You feel so happy and excited about this budding romance between you two. It's been so long since you felt safe enough to let yourself catch feelings for a guy. You flood his phone while he's at work. Miguel isn't used to someone texting him so often but it's kind of cute how you update him on every little thing that's happening in your day and he has to try not to burst out laughing in the break room at some of the Instagram reels you send him.

Your text convo:

Miguel (pookie 🐻❤️) : Why tf would you send me a video of a banana cat with that sad music 😂😐🤨 and who is that white guy that's always randomly showing up at the end of videos with that whistle tune playing?

You(amor ❤️): it's a meme babe you don't get it😂😂😂 it's supposed to be random, that's what makes it funny af. And that's Josh Hutcherson. You've never seen or read Hunger Games?!

Miguel(pookie 🐻❤️): no, I haven't. Your sense of humor is a little broken I'm afraid. 🤨 You kids and your memes.

You(amor ❤️): my sense of humor is just fine 😂LMAO you're only like 8 years older than me. 😂 we're watching it immediately! And we're going to Barnes and Noble to get you a copy. 😇

Miguel(pookie 🐻❤️): hmmm fine.😌 When would you like to, cutie? ❤️

You(amor ❤️): This weekend please? ❤️❤️❤️

Miguel(pookie 🐻❤️): I'm so sorry, I'll have Gabi with me. But she'll be at her mom's next weekend. Can we do it then? ❤️

You(amor ❤️): that's okay I totally understand! ❤️ Yes please! I'm so excited ❤️ I miss you...

Miguel(pookie 🐻❤️): perfect. I miss you more. ❤️

---------

Next Friday

Miguel drives to work, his heart like a dead weight in his chest and his mind racing with different scenarios on how he's going to tell his boss he's had enough. This isn't what he signed up for. The project he was overseeing at work was trying to create these "special abilities"in humans. One of the test subjects passed away this week and he'd be lying to himself if he said it wasn't messing with his head. He had nightmares about her. She couldn't have been older than 19. Her blue eyes frantic as she realized she might not make it off the lab table alive. Her horrified screams ringing in his eardrums. Miguel's fist clamped tighter around the steering wheel as he choked back a sob. He felt this was his burden to shoulder alone. He knew he was falling for you steadily now, and he didn't want you to go crazy worrying about him. He knows you love to try and fix people, a lot of times to your detriment and couldn't stand to see you in that position or live with the fact that he put you there.

He really didn't care for his boss, Tyler Stone either. Tyler Stone was the 6'3, blonde haired, blue eyed, egotistical vice president over Research and Development at Alchemax. He and the other higher ups just spent all day figuratively (and possibly literally) sucking each other off in boardroom meetings for the hard work everyone underneath them was doing. He was a businessman, not a scientist, and it became clear to Miguel that profit came first for him over scientific discovery and advancement, and his cronies shared the same philosophy.

Miguel faced the man now, sitting in his office. Tyler sighed and walked over to his decanter set that sat in the corner of his office on top of a polished mahogany drink cabinet.

"Care for some bourbon?" He asked, rolling up his sleeves.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded, closing his eyes for a moment.

"It pains me to hear that you're wanting to leave, it really does." Tyler says as he pours the bourbon in two short, square glasses.

"I chose you because I believed you could handle it. Your track record doesn't lie, Miguel. You were top of your class at Columbia University. I've seen your research and read your thesis that you did with them. You know Dain was actually the one that submitted your nomination to me when I was looking for someone to promote?" Tyler hands the glass of bourbon to Miguel who murmurs a low thank you.

"My point is, if you leave, I got no one to replace you, and that makes my job even more tough." Tyler takes a sip of his bourbon and makes a small face. "I'm going to bat for your little science project every time I meet with the board of directors. I'll be honest with you, they're ready to trim the fat." Tyler's blue eyes bore into Miguel's over the rim of his glass. "But I tell them that this process, is worth the wait. We won't have these superhuman abilities lined up for purchase on shelves tomorrow. But give or take a few years we will be the first to break 100 bil in quarterly revenue when we roll this out to the public. My point is, I'm willing to do whatever I gotta do to keep this project afloat because I've ran the numbers, I've seen what guys like you and Dain can do. It's a worthwhile investment."

Miguel takes a sip of his bourbon and winces. Fuck it, he downs the rest of the whiskey, his throat on fire. He holds out his empty glass to Tyler who takes it and goes to refill it, his back turned to Miguel.

"I'm sorry...." Miguel finally says. "I've made up my mind. I'm flattered that you think I'm the right person for this job, but I'm telling you, I don't want to be the guy who all of this is riding on anymore. I'm not gonna gamble if people's lives are the chips."

Tyler's face went dark and he started tapping the side of his glass, his back still turned to Miguel.

Since when did this fucker grow a conscience? He knows he wouldn't be doing this job if he wasn't getting paid for it either right? He'd given Miguel and his team resources that any group of scientists would give their left kidney for. It was thanks to him in those board meetings that those ungrateful bastards even still had a job. And now their hang up is human test subjects?

Tyler handed Miguel back another glass and said nothing as he watched Miguel down it. Miguel winced again as he finished his liquor, throat still on fire and cheeks starting to flush.

Tyler turned back around, looking at the now setting sun on the horizon. "I'm afraid I can't let you go." He said calmly.

Miguel raised an eyebrow, then suddenly his face turned white when Tyler held up an empty vial of Rapture, his back still turned to him. Tyler spoke again, his back still facing Miguel. "Alchemax is the only distributor of Rapture. Leave if you want, but I'm going to have to be forced to let the board know and involve law enforcement when they realize one of their silly little scientists couldn't keep his hands out of the cookie jar and became a needy little addict." He took a long sip.

"You're not gonna make me look like a weak little bitch in front of the whole board. I don't lose, Miguel. You're not gonna fuck this up for me."

Enraged, Miguel shot up, shattering the shot glass in his hand, blood gushing out of his fingers. "You fucking piece of shit!"

Tyler remained calm. "You wanna hurt me? Go right ahead. I used your sign in to get this vial from the lab. The access history and empty vial next to my dead body will just deepen the hole you dug yourself. Either do as I say, or throw away your freedom right now and kill me before you even had a chance to see your little girl go to Prom."

Miguel paused. This fucker was playing chess with him. Tyler took another sip. "It'd be a damn shame if you did. Especially about that new slutty girlfriend of yours. Did you even get to find out what her pussy feels like?"

That was it. Miguel threw his chair against the wall, the wooden legs splintering into the cabinet Tyler was leaning up against, a neutral expression on his prick face as he sipped more bourbon.

Miguel turned and left the office, and slammed the door so hard the receptionist let out a small squeak of terror as Miguel tore down the hallway, rage seething out of his ears.

"Aaron?" Tyler asked in his cold expressionless voice.

A short, balding man in his mid-thirties with green eyes and thick black rimmed glasses stepped out from behind a two way mirror in the corner of Tyler's office.

"You rewrote the code in Machine A-2099 in sector 8, right?"

"Yes boss."

--------

You hummed happily as you lit a few of your favorite vanilla almond scented candles on your coffee table. You went all out with a smorgasbord of treats for your movie date night with Miguel including popcorn, gummy worms, Milk Duds, Pretzels, M&Ms, beef jerky, and root beer floats. As soon as you got off work, you cleaned the whole apartment top to bottom and put fresh sheets on the bed. You checked your phone anxiously.

Text convo:

Miguel (pookie 🐻❤️): Good morning beautiful ❤️ how'd you sleep? Have a great day, I'll be at your apartment at 8 pm.

You(amor ❤️): you just made my whole morning!🥰🥰 Good morning handsome! I slept great! I'm so looking forward to movie night tonight. I have a bunch of treats and goodies for us to snack on too. 😇

Miguel (pookie 🐻❤️): that sounds wonderful, baby. ❤️ Driving to work now, I'll text you when I get there but I'm not going to be able to talk much today. I have a meeting with the boss and a bunch of other stuff related to the project I'm overseeing. Just wanted to let you know not to worry ❤️ I'll call you at 6!

6 pm came and went and you felt sick to your stomach.

You(amor ❤️): Babe? Everything okay, I tried you twice.

Nothing.

You (amor ❤️): Miguel? It's 9 pm. Are you okay? Please just call or text me to let me know everything's okay...

It was now 10 pm. He wasn't coming. Your stomach lay in knots. You had called him 28 times with no answer.

What's happening? Is he cheating on me? Did he get into an accident? Is he dead on the side of the road while I'm hundreds of miles away and can't do anything?

He gets busy at work but he always, always checks in with you. You can't help but fight back tears at his untouched root beer float sitting next to yours. You knew going into this that you had to jump, knowing you were gonna fall and he might not be there to catch you. Well, here you were with a small dagger in your heart on what was supposed to be your second date. You couldn't help but let yourself get in your head. His rejection of you this time confirmed everything you feared about yourself. You laid down on the couch and sobbed quietly to sleep.

------

That same night at Alchemax

Miguel's painful screams reverberated off the tiled floor of the genetics lab at Alchemax. The tall powerful man he was, was writhing on the floor in agony. It was as though his blood had turned to acid. His whole body felt on fire. Please God, if I'm supposed to die right now just take me already. He hadn't felt pain this intense ever before in his life. His eyes turned bloodshot, foaming at the mouth as his saliva bubbled and splurted out in incoherent gasps.

Aside from his screams, the machine responsible for his pain let out a low beep. Miguel knew that a copy of his original DNA sample was logged into one of the gene altering machines that he set up when he was first put in charge of Tyler's superhuman project. He knew that as long as he had a drop of Rapture in him, he'd remain an addict defenseless against his new dependency Tyler forced on him. He had tried in vain to rewrite his current biology back to the original, but Tyler was one step ahead. Tyler knew nothing about science or how DNA worked, but it didn't take much to convince Miguel's bitter, jealous subordinate, Aaron Delgado to sabotage the machine. Very little was known about what type of effect that might have on a human, so there was a good chance he'd just die. Just what they wanted. Aaron and Tyler's smug faces entered the lab, watching Miguel suffer and taunting him, even pouring up another round of bourbon while they waited for the show to end. Yep, he'd be dead in just a few more minutes. They had an alibi and a cover up ready to go. They'd post his job opening by Monday and then they could pretend like this never happened. Miguel suddenly became still, his chest seeming to freeze in place, no longer rising and falling with his normal breathes.

Gabriella, my little girl...I'm so sorry....I love you more than anything

His eyes became glassy with tears. He was on his way to finding happiness with you too, only to have the rug pulled out from under him, now he was going to die here, alone. And those who killed him would never know justice behind their corporate wall of privilege and greed that would surely protect them. He uttered your name, his lips barely moving before his eyes fell closed and saw only black..

----

Pt 4 coming soon! Thanks for the support 🖤

@mysteris-things

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #fanfic #Spotify

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creedslove · 1 year

Text

BETRAYED - PART EIGHT

Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: Pedro invites you to be his plus one for the night but his attention is caught by another woman and leaves you with a broken heart

Warnings: angst, age gap, established friendship, unrequited love/one sided feelings, a lot of fluff but also angst, pregnancy scare

A/N: You guys voted and here's the continuation, I know some people didn't like what happened in the previous chapter but it was just for the drama. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and there's only two more to go with this story :')

A/N part 2: I still can't manually tag people on the works because I use the app and it won't let me do it, that's why I don't have a tag list at all!

2k words

Pedro took your hands in his and caressed them so gently "shh baby girl, it's okay… I know you are anxious and nervous but I need you to calm down and tell me exactly what happened" he asked with his warm brown eyes, pooling inside of them nothing but comprehension and calm.

You took another sip of the water he'd brought you and took another deep breath, telling him everything again from the start. You'd been sick about six weeks or so and took strong antibiotics, which later you learned that could affect your birth control. In the meantime you'd been with Liev a couple of times but you only thought about things when you realized your period was late.

You panicked and went to the nearest drugstore, getting the first test you could find and the rest was history. He nodded and went silent for a few seconds, getting some strands of hair out of your face "so you only took one test? I mean, it could be a false positive, couldn't it?" He suggested and chuckled as you frowned at him, surprised he even came up with that possibility.

"I had a girlfriend years ago, way before you and I met, and well, we went through that. I panicked as I really didn't want to be a dad back then, but it turned out to be just a scare and nothing else, so there's a chance that's the same with you" he assured you and took you by the hand.

"Come on, you're tense, scared and tired, let's get you to my place, so you can have some peaceful moment without worrying about that piece of shit coming back"

•••

"We'll make a quick stop, okay hermosa?" Pedro broke the comfortable silence you two had as he drove through the streets. You were somewhat calmer now, though your heart was still tight in your chest and you could feel your tears lingering around, so close to breaking free again.

You nodded softly "o-okay" you whispered. It was always so hard to calm down when you were going through an emotional distress, but you tried your best.

Pedro parked in an empty spot and quickly crossed the street, going to the drugstore and disappearing inside for a good twenty minutes before getting behind the steering wheel again. He handed you a bag and started the car once more, focusing on traffic.

You curiously peeked inside and saw two pregnancy tests and looked at him.

"If it's a false positive, then we'll know when the result comes, Y/N" he glanced at your surprised face before looking away once more "I also got you some pills so you can calm down, you know, the ones safe for pregnant women just in case" he shrugged softly and went quiet again.

You placed the tests back inside and smiled softly as you found one of your favorite candy bars inside the bag as well,

The man smiled "figured you needed something sweet"

Your heart warmed in your chest as you thanked Pedro for the treat and waited anxiously to get to his home.

•••

"You know everything here so I don't even need to tell you to make yourself at home, cariño. You can take the test now if you'd like, I'll be by your side, through it and through everything else that comes after, I really meant that" he said gently and walked to the kitchen. Pedro filled his ice pad and groaned as he sat heavily on the couch, pressing it against his face as he finally realized how much his face hurt after being punched like that. He was already thankful enough his nose wasn't broken, as he was sure his manager would be thrilled to tell all the executives the actor they hired for their productions had an issue with his face.

You felt incredibly guilty as you watched him, seeing he was in pain and it was kind of because of you. You sat next to him and gently grabbed the pad, placing it over the wounded skin, where you could see a darker bruise forming.

You applied some pressure by accident, hearing his grunt and immediately apologizing, not wanting him to suffer.

"You didn't have to take the punches, Pedro… He hurt you and even though you didn't break anything, you will still have some bruises on your face, that's not good for an actor"

Pedro couldn't help but scoff softly, raising his eyebrow at you "do you really think I thought about work at that moment? That guy wanted to get to you, of course, he also wanted to punch me which he did very enthusiastically by the way, but still, his anger was towards you, so yeah, I did have to take those punches because he would have to fucking kill me before he touched you in any way" he said deadly serious and stared into his eyes.

"You don't take me seriously, and I don't know what to do to make you believe me, Y/N, but I can assure you I won't ever let anyone hurt you in any way" he sighed.

"Did you really mean what you said? I mean, about being here for me, as a father?" You finally gathered the courage to ask him. The curiosity eating you up alive, you needed to know if he was serious, you were so confused and exhausted at everything that happened, you just needed some comfort at that moment.

"Yes, Y/N… there's nothing I've been dreaming about more than having you. You are the last thing I think of when I got to bed and the first one when I wake up… I-" he blushed deeply "I've been dreaming about us, as a couple, having our own kids… it usually happens right here" he pointed at the other couch "you're always sitting there beautifully, like always and then our kid comes running to you, calling you mommy and it just melts and breaks my heart at the same time, because I know time is passing by, I'm getting old but at the same time you're the one who can give me this, because I want this with you and no one else" Pedro teared up "so come on, mariposa, do the test, so we can kill this doubt already, I know it is not the ideal but we can make this work if you want it to work as well" he said, holding your face gently and pecking your lips.

You nodded, being convinced at his words. You had no idea what you'd do if those lines came out blue, but if they did, you knew he would be by your side no matter what.

You grabbed the tests and locked yourself in the bathroom, following the instructions by the book, your mind was a mix of thoughts and your heart, a turmoil of emotions. You figured you wouldn't be able to wait by yourself and called Pedro, asking him to be by your side.

He immediately pulled you to his arms, holding you the entire time as you two sat down on the floor, your backs against the tub as time dragged on. He made sure to distract you, talking about many other things, though your minds lingered around the result that seemed to be taking forever to get ready.

Pedro set a timer on his phone, but tried to forget about it. He was focusing mainly on your body against his, your breathing against his neck and how you kept your eyes closed, in hopes things would be alright. He was clueless at what was on your mind, he couldn't even guess what you'd do if you were indeed pregnant but he hoped really hard he'd be included in whatever plans you had for it.

His phone buzzing woke you both up from your individual daydreams. It was about time to face the truth and your anxiety made itself present as you both stood up and went to check the results. You didn't want to see it, at the same time you had to see it. Your heart hammered in your chest, you could hear your ears ringing with your blood pumping through the veins. Your hands went cold and sweaty at the same time and when you finally gathered courage to look at the tests, you let out a whimper of relief and turned to Pedro, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face into his chest. You didn't say anything and he didn't even have to ask. He just held you while you shed your relief and happiness tears at the fact you were indeed not pregnant.

•••

You woke up tangled in Pedro's arms. You hadn't had sex, surprisingly, Pedro was too much of a gentleman for that, even if he was burning in desire for you, he wanted nothing but to see you comfortable. He loved how your eyes lit up and your entire body relaxed at the moment you got the news, he could see you were finally feeling happy again and that was enough for him to feel happy too.

Then, he insisted on filling up the tub so you could take a relaxing bath, getting you some of your own spare clothes you'd left there a few months ago and got you some things to eat and a bottle of wine.

You two killed the bottle of wine probably way too faster than you should have and your last memory of that trouble day was lying in his bed, his arms pulling you closer, wrapped around your waist as you both fell asleep.

When you woke up, you felt him stirring in bed, he was awake as well, but he hadn't let go of you yet, he couldn't bring himself to do it nor he didn't want to.

He nuzzled your neck gently, kissing it gently, chucking at how you squirm and rubbed your back

"Morning princesa, don't get up just yet, you need to rest some more, I'll fix you some nice breakfast" he whispered and got up, going to the bathroom and freshening up a little before heading to the kitchen.

He went through the fridge trying to find something good enough for you but there was nothing he could work on, so he decided to get some last night pizza and get it on a plate for you. It wasn't the first time you two shared breakfast pizza and it wouldn't be the last time.

When you finally showed up in the kitchen, Pedro smiled brightly holding two plates in hand "hey there, hermosa, I got you some breakfast, it's not the best, but it'll do honey" he winked.

You took a step closer and took the plates off his hand, placing them down the counter and held his cheeks between your hands.

"I'm gonna talk and I want you to listen, Pedro" you said seriously and saw worry in his eyes, looking away for a split second so you wouldn't chicken out at the sight of his lovely sad brown eyes.

He nodded and waited for you to go on

"I'm leaving Pedro, I am so sorry but I can't do this, it's too much. I can't just walk out of a relationship with Liev and get into one with you, as much as I love you, because yes, you were right, I lied, to you and to myself, saying that I got over you, but I also honest when I said now I love myself more than anyone else. I gotta take some time on my own, I gotta work on myself, think things through and I can't have you running after me like a sad puppy" you said, tears in your eyes as you could see how you were breaking his heart.

"I am so thankful for everything we lived and I forgive you Pedro, but we can't be together, thanks for being by my side when I thought I was pregnant, and I really loved that scenario you told me about, you know, how you dreamed of us and our kids… maybe someday that could be true, but not today, Pedro. I'm sorry" you said, sniffing and giving him one last kiss.

You excused yourself and Pedro watched you walk away from his life, his heart was shattered, but he knew he would always love you.

_____

A/N: did you guys really think I'd be crazy enough to make either of them be forced into having kids with people they didn't love? I am crazy for a happy ending, though the end of this chapter wasn't exactly happy but hey, there's still two more chapters to go and a lot can change!!! I hope you liked it ❤️

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal headcanon #pedro pascal headcanons #javier peña #joel miller #javier pena #javier peña fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction

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nottapossum · 18 days

Text

Itty Bitty Sinners 2.1💖Whatever It takes 💕🩷

Summary:

⚠️Read⚠️

This section is about Angel dust and Clara so there will be talks of PTSD, Death, Sexual assault, Bedwetting, Addiction, mental health issues, negative self image. And more. (Each chapter will have its own warnings)

Valentino is in this section...more than last time.

Diapers are also a major theme in this section. Be aware of that too.

If something is too triggering or just may be too much, you will see these emojis in sections to warn you.

⚠️: Assault happening in scene. (Probably won't be too major, but be weary)

🥀: Talking about assault.

🖤Dark themes like death

🟢: Addiction drug/Or alcohol.

⚡️: Injury.

🧷: Padding/diapers (sfw only but in case it makes you uncomfortable)

Then In the end note I will explain what happened in those scenes so you can skip them if you need to.

(I may use this in the future, because I know a some of people had to skip FKB and now I got to try and remember what happened so I can do a recap in the first chapter in MKB. Hopefully this works out and I can use it more)

And if I need to add anything. Please Let me know. Feel free to suggest some emojis for any triggering themes for future fics.

⚠️Every trigger in this chapter is super mild. Probably have nothing to worry about. Only talks of getting assaulted, anxiety, delayed emotional response, self lothing, and injuries. ⚠️

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“Okay, everyone! Let's get this trust circle started!” Charlie announced to the group with her normal overenthusiastic voice.

How can someone be so peppy all the time? It made absolutely no sense to Angel. They're in hell for christ sake!

The ‘trust circle’ She was referring to was more like a square since it was only Charlie, Vaggie, Pen, and Angel.

Husk was at the bar, cleaning some glasses, Niffty was running around bug killing, and no one could tell where Alastor was when he wasn't working! The guy seems to just disappear randomly.

“Who would like to start?” Charlie asks the group.

Pentious smiles and raises his hand. “Oh I would!” He says enthusiastically.

Angel tried not to roll his eyes.

“Pentious!” Charlie cheers. “The floor is yours.” She says, gesturing for him to step forward.

Pentious smiles and slivers closer to the center of the room so everyone could see him properly.

“Ahem.” He clears his throat. “I would like to share that these past few weeks have been the best I can ever remember. Since working with you two, I've felt happier, healthier, and I do hate myself a lot less. You both have provided a safe space for me here, and I couldn't thank you enough for that.” Pentious says, specifically to Charlie and Vaggie.

“Aw, Pen. I'm so glad things are working out so well! You've made so much progress! I'm so proud of you!” She says.

They said more… but Angel was so tired of hearing how great Pentious is all the time.

“Angel? Would you like to share?” Charlie asks.

“Nope.” Angel says simply.

“Come on, Angel.” Charlie says. “It doesn't have to be something big, it can be anything! Oh! How about your regression journal? Have you written in it at all?”

“No.” Angel answers, holding his crossed arms closer to his chest.

“Oh…okay.” Charlie says.

“Angel, come on. Please just share something?” Vaggie sighs. “You said you were going to start participating.”

Husk looks over at them, glaring slightly at Vaggie and Charlie.

“And you said this was optional!” Angel argues back childishly.

But Charlie interrupts. “It's okay!” Charlie says. “Trust can't be forced. It's perfectly okay if you don't want to share anything, Angel. It's not a requirement.”

That somehow made him feel worse than he already did…

“So, I have a project for you two to work on this week!” Charlie announces, changing the subject. “We have already talked about apologizing, so I want to focus a bit on forgiveness!”

“Forgiveness?” Pentious asks.

“Yup! I'd like you both to write a paper! It doesn't matter how long or short, it doesn't even need to be very good. But I want you to write about someone in your life that has hurt you, that you need to forgive.” Charlie explains.

“And what does this have to do with redemption?” Angel asks her.

“Redemption is working towards forgiveness for wrongdoings, if we can offer forgiveness, it's possible to receive forgiveness as well! So, think really hard about it, and you can share it with us next week.” Charlie says.

Angel felt a burning sensation in his chest.

Forgiveness.

How was that even possible here?

“Okay, you're both free to go until tomorrow.” Charlie says. “Let me know if you have any questions!”

Charlie and Vaggie collected their papers and stuff and started to put them away in the office.

Pentious grabbed a notebook to get started on the stupid assignment, but Angel couldn't think of a single person in his life who was worthy of forgiveness…

No one that he hasn't forgiven already at least.

Does she not understand the kind of people he has to see every day? They're not exactly the remorseful types.

Hell was full of the absolute worst kind of people whose motivation is focused solely on pain and suffering.

Why would anyone want to forgive anyone here!?

“Charlie! Charlie!” A small innocent voice asks.

Charlie smiles at the small bug-like sinner. “Yes, Niffty? What's up?” She asks.

“Can I do it too?” She asks. “I want to learn!”

Charlie and Vaggie smile at each other, then both back at Niffty.

“Of course, Niffty! Are you interested in redemption too?” Charlie asks her.

Niffty shrugs. “I don't know, I just want to be part of it.” She says. “It looks fun! I want to be part of the group!”

“You're always welcome to join us, Niffty.” Charlie says.

Niffty smiles as they continue to talk. She shows Charlie her regression journal and everything she has written in it so far.

And Angel’s remains blank. . .

So, even Niffty was better than he was at this.

Angel walks upstairs to his room to get away from them all…

It's not that Angel didn't feel happy for Niffty, he just didn't need to hear about how great it was that Niffty was going to get redeemed…

How great it was that they're gonna have another successful patron…

Now they have two…

How great was that?

It was so….so great.

Angel’s phone starts vibrating violently in his pocket.

…fuck.

He pulled out his phone and his heart sank at at terrifying all too familiar photo as the screen identified the caller:

‘Valentino’

Well, time to get back to reality.

~~~Past, Clara~~~~

Clara never knew how to react properly to things.

Her and Odette have always gone out during exorcisms to collect weapons for their mom, and they've always done it well.

They knew how to avoid angels, to remain unseen, and to act fast.

Well…they always knew…

...before.

But then they were cornered.

Clara remembered brief moments, only mere seconds of the event:

The shadow flying above them,

The angel appearing in front of them,

Their mother asks them if they're okay.

When recalling the events later, Odette remembered every detail, and explained it in every detail to their mother when they all made it home.

Her and her younger sister coped with stress and traumatic events the same way; Though they were very different, they were both age regressors.

Odette was a middle regressor, ranging from age 9-12.

And Clara ranged from 1-4.

Regressing was always so fun for them! Clara got to be the younger sister for once, got to relax, not worry about anything, and she wouldn't need to know all the answers to everythine all the time.

She can just be a kid! She can have some fun!

When they got back home, Odette immediately slipped, she hugged their mother tightly and explained how scary that was for her.

Carmilla, their mother hugged her and told her they were safe now and that everything was going to be alright.

Clara wanted to regress too.

She wanted to cry.

Wanted her mom to help her.

But she couldn't…

She couldn't react, no matter how hard her family tried to talk about it…nothing was processing properly!

She couldn't think about it, when they talked it just made her feel…less there.

She didn't feel much like crying.

She didn't feel like regressing.

She didn't feel anything.

Just…internally froze.

Like what she just experienced didn't happen…it wasn't…real.

She felt pain in her chest and she had an awful headache from the stress but…

No emotions whatsoever.

What's wrong with her?

She decided she'd just try and forget about it and help her mother with her sister instead.

Odette was a fairly independent little, being a middle regressor, but she always likes it when Clara was there, little or not.

They did some puzzles to keep their mind off the event, every time Odette or her mother said anything about it, Clara excused herself from the conversation, finding any excuse to do so:

‘I'm gonna get some water.’

‘I need to use the bathroom.’

‘I think I heard something outside.’

She felt so uncomfortable thinking about it…but she didn't know why.

Her mother asked her specifically if she was alright, and Clara simply nodded and brushed her off, avoiding any and all questions and conversations about it.

She focused only on working, social media, reading, anything really!

She focused on her sister, what she needed.

She just can't face what happened and how it affected her.

She just can't!

~~~Clara, Later:~~~~

The angel attack was a while ago, and Clara was fine.

Totally fine!

She doesn't stay up awake thinking about it…

Well, she didn't last night, so that was great progress!

The emotions are far more severe than before, but it's too late to react now!

She can't tell her mother she's scared of Angel's!

It was too late!

She hadn't even regressed since the attack, despite her mother's advice to do so, because she doesn't want to break down.

She can't regress until the emotions pass, and she's back to normal.

Odette was doing fine! She processed it fairly well, she's acting completely normal! Why can't she be more like her?

“Clara! Have you seen my squid? I can't find him." Her sister asks from the other room.

Well, normal for Odette at least.

“No, I haven't.” She calls back, not too loudly, only enough for Odette to hear.

Odette appeared in front of her sisters’ door to glance in her room. She hums and then walks away to continue her search. "Strange. I just had it..."

“I'm sure it's around here somewhere.” Clara says. “Did you check the kitchen?”

Odette blinks. “I was just about to.” She says in a way that told Clara that no she hadn't thought to look there yet.

She turns back to her laptop…

And when the bad emotions start to overwhelm her again, she closes her eyes and takes some deep breaths to calm herself down.

They're okay.

Her family is safe.

The Angel is gone.

And there's nothing to worry about!

Though angels continue to haunt her thoughts every day…

There's nothing to worry about, so she'll stop worrying.

….eventually.

🥀~~~Angel, Later:~~~🥀

The work day for Angel was relatively normal…

He didn't expect it to end any differently than any other miserable day.

He worked until 3:00 am filming Valentino's new film.

Something about a pizza delivery guy or…was it a mafia boss again? He's not sure.

Why do people like Mafia bosses so much?

Was it really that sexy? He didn't get it.

But maybe he's just biased.

But it doesn't matter.

It's all the same at this point…and he remembers them less and less as he keeps doing it.

With the mixture of dissociation and drugs…

It's like he's not even there anymore.

“That's a wrap everyone!” Travis announced to everyone in the studio.

“I expect everyone to be back here first thing tomorrow!" Val shouts. "Angel, did you hear that?” Valentino asks him.

“Yes, Valentino. I'll be here.” Angel promises.

Valentino smiles. “Good Boy. I expect you all to be here before noon or so help me-”

Angel didn't bother hearing the rest, he just walked out of the studio, eager to get back to the hotel to get some well deserved rest.

He was walking home tonight since he couldn't find a cab and didn't feel like calling one.

But it was fine. What's the worst that can happen?

He had a bit to walk, but it wasn't too far.

He was going straight to bed when he got back, that's no question.

If he even makes it to his bed, he may end up sleeping on the floor again.

It was a risk, but it might be worth it.

If he makes it back that is…

His eyes are already forcing themselves shut.

Ugh…shit.

Normally when they're this late, he'll just stay with Val but-

He really didn't want to risk it tonight...

He'll make it…

He'll be fine.

Just keep….going.

⚡️~~~Husk:~~~⚡️

Husk woke up to his phone going off.

Ugh! When and why did he set Angel's ringtone as this super annoying polka music?

"Angel?" Husk asks, answering the phone.

There was a delayed response: ..."Husk? That you?" He asks.

“Are you high? It's Five in the morning. Why are you calling me?” Husk asks.

Angel takes a bit to respond again. “Huh ...oh yeah, yeah I'm high. But also, I kinda need your help.” Angel says.

“What's going on?” Husk asks. "Are you alright?"

“Uhmm some guy jumped me. Idiot thought I had money, hilarious, right?” Angel asks him, chuckling.

“What? Can't you take a cab home?” Husk asks.

“Normally, yeah! That would be a great idea! Good for you but…uhm. I can't really move, my leg is sorta bending the other way, and I keep losing...ugh what's that word?" He asks. "It's like when you're not dead and aware of everything happening....Well, whatever it is, I keep losing that."

“Where are you? I'll come get you.” Husk says, getting out of bed and getting dressed as fast as he can.

“Awesome, fantastic.” Angel breathes out. "...that's great, Husk."

“Angel? Angel?” Husk asks, a little louder than his regular register but not quite shouting.

“What?” Angel asks.

“Where are you?” Husk repeats.

“Oh that! Yeah…uhm. I…” Angel breathes heavily against the phone, not giving Husk an answer.

“Angel…stay with me, please. Where are you?” Husk asks again.

“I was walking home.” He says. "From the studio...I'm not sure how far I got but..."

…

“Angel? Hey!” He called. "Can you hear me?"

…no answer.

Shit.

Husk hung up the phone and practically flew downstairs.

Husk makes it to the main room where he runs into...of course, Alastor.

Sigh.

Great.

That's just what he needed.

“Husker? You're up early.” Alastor says to him with that annoying fucking smile. "Eager to get to work?" He asks teasingly.

“I'm not in the mood, I need to go get Angel, he's hurt somewhere.” Husk tells him, not caring to react to Alastor's mockery.

“Oh dear. Well, where is he?” Alastor asks, tone more serious now.

“I…I'm not sure. But I'm going to find out.” Husk says, grabbing the first aid kit Charlie always keeps in the lobby.

Husk starts to make his way to the door.

Alastor hums. “Well…”

Husk pauses at the door to hear what Alastor has to say...

“You're going to need better transportation then.” He says.

Husk doesn't know what Alastor means by that, but decides to let Alastor lead the way.

If he didn't care about Angel, he wouldn't be too eager to receive the radio demon's help.

But he seemed to have the right idea, so he followed Al's lead.

They walk outside and Alastor summons an old-looking car from the 1920s.

"Get in, we'll drive in the direction of the studio, keep an eye out for Angel." Alastor says, staring up at the car.

"Do you even know where it is?" Husk asks him, getting into the car as he was told.

Alastor rolls his eyes. "Believe me, I do."

Husk raises an eyebrow.

“Don't ask.” Alastor says.

They start to drive in the direction of the studio, Husk's head out the window to look out for the spider.

“There he is.” Husk announced after ten minutes of driving.

Alastor stops the car and Husk hops out of the car to run to Angel.

“Angel? Can you hear me?” Husk asks, pulling the spider into his arms. "Angel?"

Alastor hums, taking a look at Angel. "He's still breathing, that's a good sign."

Husk starts to argue: “But he's-"

“He'll be fine, Husker. Let's get him bandaged up to ensure he heals properly, then get him into the car.” Alastor says. “If anything else needs to be done we can always ask Charlie for help. Surely she knows a doctor, vet, or something.”

Husk agrees, setting the first aid kit next to Angel, focusing on cleaning the dried blood on his head…

He was still so beautiful…even while laying on the floor like this.

How could someone hurt someone else this beautiful?

The injury on his head wasn't too bad, he probably just hit it on the pavement when he passed out, the worst he had was a concussion if anything.

And that will heal itself in no time.

Alastor took one of Angel's boots off to wrap up his leg. “It's broken. It'll probably take him a few days to get this back in shape.” He says.

Husk nods, turning to what appeared to be his final injury… his stomach was stabbed pretty deep. “His head is fine.” He explains. “I think stitching this up may be a good idea though.”

Alastor nods. "Need me to do it?" He asks.

Husk shakes his head and grabs the needle and thread. "No, I got it...thanks." Husk stitches him up the best he can, no way was he trusting Alastor with something this important, not if he can help it.

Alastor smiles at him like he just did something absolutely hilarious. “Alright, you lift the top of the hin, I'll try and keep his legs straight.” He says.

Husk nods. The two lift the spider and try to get him in the car.

"Husk, you need to move right!" Alastor complains.

"I am moving right!" Husk says.

"My right!" Alastor says.

“We're facing the same way!” Husk says.

"Hey, some people are trying to get some sleep, Assholes!" Someone in one of the buildings shout.

Alastor makes his weird buzzing sound. "It's five in the morning, wake the fuck up already!" He shouts.

Husk sighs, feeling like this will never end.

They do manage to get him in the car though.

They may have hit Angel's head and leg, again, and dropped him once…but he's fine. (It was all Alastor's fault, Husk decided.)

And finally, without another word from either sinner, they headed back to the hotel with no issues.

Alastor and Husk carry the spider once again to get him upstairs and to his bed.

Alastor would probably use magic, but Husk thinks he might be worried about Angel too.

Which confused him to no end, he never thought Alastor would care about another man.

"Take him" Alastor says, handing Husk is legs.

Husk readjusts his hold on Angel so Alastor can remove the top sheets of the bed to fix it.

Husk is very careful not to move too much, he wouldn't want to irritate the spider's leg more.

Fat nuggets is woken up and starts oinking at Husk, probably just worried about Angel...or he was just being a pig, Husk wasn't sure how smart they are.

When Alastor was done fixing Angel's disaster of a bed, he moves the top sheet and blanket so Husk can set him down.

He takes off Angel's other boot, deciding to leave his sock on.

Alastor then gently tucks him in, making sure he was nice and comfortable. His broken leg was elevated over the blanket on top of an extra pillow.

Fat nuggets hopped on the bed and rested by Angel's arm, nuzzling him gently, hoping he'd wake up.

"Well, that should do it." Alastor says, summoning his cain again. "I will be off then." Alastor turns to Husk. "If you're so worried, you can take a few hours off to keep an eye on him. I know how scrupulous you can be when it comes to the damnned thing." He says, rolling his eyes.

Husk wouldn't normally comment, but he turns to Alastor before the deer could leave. "Hey…uh- thanks.” He says. "For helping me out there. I'm not sure how I would have gotten him home without you."

“It was my pleasure. I do help run this hotel, it's my responsibility to take care of our patrons after all.” Alastor says, fiddling with his staff.

Husk nods. “Sure. I appreciate it either way.”

Alastor hums, obviously not knowing how else to respond. "Of course. Well, Ta-Ta." He says before he exits through his shaddow.

Husk sighs and sits down on a chair next to Angels bed...

He does have this habit of worrying about people too much...he supposed.

Caring too much about them...

He promised himself he wouldn't do this again.

Get so protective of someone that he couldn't stop thinking about them, constantly worry about them.

But while Husk was disappointed in himself for letting him care... Angel needed someone to worry about him.

Heaven knows he won't worry about himself.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

'And I don't know what we might face

But I know I can't replace you

So I'll do anything to save you

And I will try to make your dreams come true

Whatever we go through

I know I, I'll be your keeper

I'll be your armor

Whatever it takes, I'll make the mistakes

I'll make the mistakes

Whatever it takes.' ~Whatever it takes, Hazbin hotel.

Possum: I'm feeling very anxious about this chapter...idk.

But I've been stuck on it and re-writing it for...what is it weeks? Idk. A while! So here it is. I hope it's better than I think it is.

If not, there's always the next chapter, which I can garentee will be better!

I'm pretty excited for it! I just had to get this one done and over with so I can keep going.

So...let me know your thoughts 😅

@todayimfour @trophyxtissues2 @abby5577 @ask-dusty-boy @im-not-paying-my-taxes @stormy-is-hyperfixated @attagirljessy @legeufygeuber100 @thatswhat24 @hinata-chan-utaitelover @babiegurlmuffin

#ittybittysinners #hazbin hotel agere #hazbin hotel age regression #little!Angel Dust #age regressor Angel Dust #caregiver Husker #cg!Husker

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cardboardclownery · 20 days

Text

CRASHES THROUGH A BRICK WALL

HI HI IM ALIVE!!!! sorry for the relative radio silence on here ;v;

on the topic of that actually!!!! finally have a proper folie a deux au update for you!! though its slightly different than expected?

me and professional buddy and fellow au creator @cookiecaker decided to share a summary of the story we're making for the au beforehand since we'll be taking a whileeee to finish it,,, got a lot of life to live and horrors to create "-v-

after this though you mayyyy or may notttt see some out of order chapter drafts posted for the story as well,,, or atleast one? eh youll see ;Pc

ANYWAYS!!!! this is gonna take a while so lets get on with...

THE FOLIE À DEUX DOAI AU

a summary!!

or story pitch? idk-

(cookie please lemme know if i miss or improperly describe anything here feel free to correct me-)

PART 1

the first three chapters follow alex just after the end of volume 1 as theyre abducted by lankmann and confined to his asylum as a "patient." eventually they get sent to winfrey as food, but winfrey refuses to eat them. theyre left to die in room 66 by lankmann for a Long While, until eventually he gives up and just puts alex back in their room

while alone in confinement, alex starts noticing strange things happening... dark patches start appearing on their skin, they get random pains as if someone were kicking them, and they hear a voice... a much clearer voice than the ones they used to hear while working in the asylum, and it seemed to be able to read their thoughts. though they originally just assumed it was due to being part of their thoughts as well, they find that they start knowing things they had no way of knowing and never learned prior to being confined. when lankmann typically entered room 66, how long hes inside, certain areas of the asylum patients found that theyd never heard of before...

this "voice" managed to help alex find a way to escape, leading to them running away and moving to another, smaller town in eastridge than the one they originally lived in to avoid lankmann's pursuit

PART 2

[ ! tw for cannibalism. yes you heard me- ! ]

so after getting far away from the asylum, alex assumes that their hallucinations and weird symptoms of... Something would wear off, since subject 02 was no where near close enough to affect them

well uh. nope! theyre still there!!

so eventually alex figures out "oh shit that thing is in my head somehow" and is obviously quite concerned!!! to say the least!!!! but theyre also oddly comforted by the idea of having The Voice in their head, since now theyre not entirely alone while on the run and i mean it helped them escape so it cant be that bad?? either way theyre not exactly excited about the whole ordeal and theyre starting to look different and theyre really hungry all the time and its not fun

so! at some point (with winfreys suggestion) alex decides to run off to another town a bit farther away just to be safe. but Uh Oh theyre all out of food!! so theyre extremely hungry, forcing themself through it so they can get food when they arrive but. they see someone in the woods while walking

and for some reason that makes them even hungrier

they try to ignore it and keep walking but they cant

and the next thing they know

theyre looking down at a person

chewing off the flesh on their leg

covered in blood

even after regaining their senses they cant stop themself from eating. it tasted... so good... they were so hungry... they felt awful but it really did taste so s o g o o d .

in a haze, they discard the body, clean themself off and reach the next town. just after unpacking in an apartment, they collapse, flooded with the emotions they fought off on the way there

the next day, alex finally confronts winfrey (or winfreys voice rather-) about all their grievances and they eventually reach an understanding, as winfrey opens up about fearing the outside of the asylum despite longing to escape through alex, so they eventually agree to let winfrey pilot their body for a few days to get a feel for how the world has changed since the time winfrey had been free

in doing so, winfrey realizes how small and helpless humans are in comparison to them and how terrified the patients they devoured mustve been. this allows them to appreciate human life (specifically alex's) much more and want to escaped in their own body to join alex outside and introduce clyde to what they learned after finding it again

while piloting alexs body, winfrey is suddenly forced back into their own after lankmann inflicts enough pain to wake them from the dissociative state that piloting alex left them in. soon after this, winfrey overcomes the fear that was originally keeping them from escaping the facility and breaks out

PART 3

this section is a lot less figured out than the rest so uhh bear with me please ;v;

essentially this couple of chapters just follows alex and winfrey as they get used to life on the run, figuring out where to go from there and how they could potentially find clyde, along with just talking face to face and getting used to that. its a weird feeling talking to someone that you share thoughts with yknow? like talking to yourself but its... not... yourself...

around the start of this section winfrey also expresses that they feel drawn to feminity as a human concept, thus being referred to with they/she from this point on in the story!! transfem winfrey yippee!!! it just makes sense in our head idk-

PART 4

alex and winfrey start noticing news broadcasts and posters asking around for a "dark figure" lurking around, as well as warnings about alex being missing from lankmanns asylum. this fuels alex's paranoia, leading them to seeing lankmanns caretakers everywhere, feeling as if theyre being watched wherever they go... until eventually their home is ambushed and theyre taken back into lankmanns custody

alex is essentially used as bait to get winfrey to come save them from the asylum, since lankmann couldnt find a solid lead on where winfrey could be. alex tries to convince her not to fall for it, since they can both tell this is what lankmanns trying to do, but winfrey eventually caves and breaks back in to help alex, getting trapped inside once again

PART 5

depsite the circumstances, winfrey and alex do their best to stay determined and keep looking for a way out, but they dont make much progress. to make matters worse, lankmann tries "live feeding" patients to alex in the same way he did with winfrey due to realizing that alex has veldigun traits and assuming that theyd have the same appetite as her. this isnt the case, and eventually lankmann switches to dead patients as food for alex, which theyre forced to accept due to lacking any other options

both winfrey and alex are miserable in the situation, the helplessness sinking in fairly quickly as alexs body begins rejecting the growing veldigun portions of itself, decaying under the immense stress

during their final moments, winfrey pilots alexs body to allow an atleast somewhat peaceful death as their consciousness fades away, leaving winfrey alone to reflect on all that had happened...

...and thats the official end of the story!! i had like,, a hypothetical epilogue/alternate ending where lankmann forces a Mind Merge with winfrey somehow and then gets killed and she breaks out again but like. idk the logistics of that are iffy and i kinda prefer the more melancholy end for something like this ":]c

ANYHOW!!!! hope that was!!! something!!!! please feel free to ask questions or provide feedback or anything else im always happy to engage with my fellow freaks (affectionate) :]

ALSO IF YOU MAKE CONTENT BASED ON THIS AU LET ME KNOW I WILL DIE FOREVER alright thats it for real this time- stay safe broskissss BP

#i hope the transfem winfrey vision isnt too hard to see #think about it... extends my hands #oh yea and the cannibalism- sorry if this is too freaky i dont mean to like. idk #either way i really appreciate all the support we've received so far!!!! you guys are the bomb youre all so cool and talented and swagger #love you doaiblr #doai #dreams of an insomniac #bobosart #fanart #alex williams doai #clyde doai #doai walex #doai folie a deux au #doai au

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separatist-apologist · 3 months

Text

The Sweetest Con

Summary: Nesta Archeron has been trapped in witness protection for the past five years, hiding a secret no one can ever learn. All she has to do is wait out the criminals back home determined to punish her and her sisters for a lie they told years before.

She can handle anything- even the new agent sent to keep her safe.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1

“How is life with the cop?” Gwyn asked from behind a stack of books. Emerie was perched on the counter like usual, while Nesta flipped through several new books that had just come in.

“He’s not a cop,” she reminded her friends. The fact that anyone could look at him and believe he was anything but a criminal was a testament to Cassian’s charm. The whole town loved him, greeting him by name whenever he walked down the road and all but throwing themselves at him at any given opportunity.

It annoyed Nesta. All of it annoyed her. She disliked how easy he was to live with and how much she looked forward to coming home at night so they could cook and talk together. She was supposed to be keeping tabs on him and figuring out his game, but all Nesta had learned about was Cassian’s past.

“Did you ever ask him about Brent?” Emerie questioned.

It ought to have disturbed her how easily her friends believed Cassian was a criminal capable of framing a suicide. Gwyn and Emerie hadn’t flinched when Nesta told them about her suspicions, for whatever that said about them

“No. I don’t need to ask him,” Nesta said, thinking about how Cassian had smiled when she’d told him what had happened. It made her divorce a lot easier, if nothing else. What Nesta really wanted was an explanation. Surely there was more than just the threat on the lawn.

She couldn’t ask without admitting she knew what he was.

“It’s obvious he did it because he likes her,” Gwyn added with an impertinent wink.

“What would you know about men liking women?” Emerie asked.

Gwyn shrugged. “I know enough.”

“Maybe we should tell him about—”

“No.” Gwyn’s voice went icy cold at the suggestion. Labeled the town home wrecker, Gwyn was shunned by all the well-to-do women in town who didn’t want to admit that what happened to Gwyn was rape simply because the man in question was a good ‘ol boy.

Nesta hated seeing all of them—hated the way they acted so high and mighty, like somehow they were good people despite their willingness to protect a rapist. Nesta would have liked to see Cassian kill him.

Hell, she would have liked to have done it herself, and she knew Emerie felt the same way.

“We don’t need a man for that,” Nesta reminded Emerie, earning a bright grin in response.

“How long are you going to let this go on?” Gwyn asked, clearly desperate to change the subject.

“Until she gets him naked,” Emerie teased.

Nesta could help her flush. “I don’t want to see him naked,” she lied as Emerie and Gwyn made booing noises and pointed their thumbs down. All Nesta thought about was Cassian—they’d been living together for two weeks and he spent more time without a shirt on than he did wearing one. He could hardly be blamed—it was miserably hot outside and Nesta refused to turn on her oven, so they were cooking outdoors each night.

And Cassian often just forwent his shirt, giving her access to his toned, broad chest and the rippling muscles against his stomach and back. All she could think about was what the rest of him looked like.

Nesta hadn’t had sex in over five years—since before she’d been dumped in this small town. She’d tried to go on one date with a man named Tomas—and he’d decided he was going to have her whether she wanted him or not. Nesta had been fortunate to escape, biting his ear so viciously there was still a chunk missing.

After that, Nesta never bothered again. No one had been tempting enough until Cassian sauntered through her front door, made worse by the knowledge that he might be there to kill her. He clearly had no qualms about it.

Still, he’d been surprisingly kind to her and Nesta caught herself forgetting what he was. She never mistook him for a cop—that was still a joke—but she was starting to see him as a man she could like.

A man she could strip naked, if nothing else.

It was Nesta’s pride that got in her way. She simply could not be the one who made the first move. It was making their living situation tense—Nesta was actively trying to break him.

“Do you swim, Cassian?” Nesta heard herself asking after dinner that night, thinking about the black swimsuit folded up in her dresser.

He shrugged. “I know how, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Nesta leveled a long look at him. “You don’t look like a man who can swim.”

Cassian paused. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Nesta shrugged, rising to her feet. “You don’t look like you can swim.”

“I can swim,” he told her, falling right into her trap. The male ego was a fascinating thing. “I didn’t bring swim trunks with me, though.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Nesta said, her tone implying she thought this was just a clever excuse to get out of swimming. She then sauntered off, undressing herself to put on that bikini.

She felt nervous, looking at the high straps of the bottoms that revealed the cheeks of her ass. Not to mention how out there her breasts suddenly were.

Was it too much?

Nesta threw on a cover up before marching out. Cassian was still in his athletic shorts—no shirt—and a pair of slide on shoes. “Where are we swimming?”

“There is a little lake a couple blocks over,” she informed him, grabbing two towels from the bathroom. “There’s a community pool, too, but I never use it.”

“Why not?”

“Too many children,” she said, though in truth it had more to do with the fact that the pool was always filled with people who didn’t like her, and Nesta didn’t want to be surrounded by people staring and whispering.

“Makes sense,” Cassian said, though after a pause he added, “You don’t want children?”

That felt like a loaded question. “Maybe someday,” she replied, unwilling to examine why he might ask her that. Cassian only nodded, his broad hand resting absently on his stomach. Nesta was trying to ignore the trail of hair that began just beneath his naval before vanishing into his pants, too.

That was a little more difficult. Nesta forced herself to look straight ahead as they walked and answered Cassian’s endless stream of questions like she was interviewing for a job. So what if he was hot? That was his problem—not hers.

Except, Cassian was hell bent on making it her problem as they tramped over the dirt path that led from the sidewalk to the lake. Nesta could hear children laughing in the distance, though the rocky patch of shore that she and Cassian had chosen was free of everyone but themselves.

Nesta pulled off her coverup, ignoring Cassian. Behind her, he made a soft, strangled noise she chose to believe was about the rocks digging into the soft soles of their feet.

But deep down, she knew he was reacting to her outfit.

The water was warm and still somehow refreshing even in the late evening air. Nesta waded in deeper and deeper, embarrassed that so much of her body was on display. Some part of her appreciated his reaction, though she didn’t want to admit that, either. It had been a long time since a man had looked at her with genuine appreciation.

She turned toward the shore, water up to her chin, to find Cassian standing there.

Totally naked.

“What are you doing?!” she demanded, turning away like it mattered. She’d seen everything, and oh, how she wished she hadn’t.

He was ridiculous. The sheer size of him…Nesta shuddered. She wanted to know what it was like to feel him on top of her. Even knowing everything she knew, Nesta still wanted him. What would her sisters say if they ever learned this? Nesta couldn’t help but take another look as Cassian waded into the water.

Just like the rest of him, Cassian’s thighs were big and muscular—they looked like they could easily crush her, should he ever want to. And his cock…fuck. He wasn’t erect and yet Nesta had a good sense of the size and girth of him. Did he fit inside women, or did he merely wedge in half and call it good?

“I told you I didn’t have trunks,” Cassian said, submerging himself so she didn’t have to feel so guilty every time she looked his way.

“You could have kept your underwear on!”

“Nah,” Cassian replied with a shit eating grin. “I wanted you to look at my penis.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“A lot of things, if I had to guess. I’ve never seen a therapist so who can say for sure?”

“Why…why would you want that?” Nesta asked, crossing her arms over her chest as though he could see her through the murky, blue-green water.

“C’mon, Nes—”

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed, immediately irritated he couldn’t remember the most basic parts of his pretend job.

Cassian rolled his eyes, reaching for her shoulders. Nesta flung back, splashing him in the face. If he touched her she was certain she’d be ruined. Better to give the illusion of resistance, at any rate. Make him work for it.

“Come here,” he murmured, putting his hand on her hip. Nesta’s heart thudded in her throat, gagging any potential retort. All she could think about was his broad, callused hand touching her bare skin and how close he suddenly was. “This isn’t wrong.”

Oh, but it was. He still thought she didn’t know who he was but Nesta was painfully aware that she was letting herself get felt up by a man who was part of the people hunting them. Nesta braced her hands on his strong chest intending to shove him away when a new idea struck her.

“This is nothing,” she told him, catching the flash of hurt. “It can never be anything, Cassian.”

“What are you saying?”

“That this is going nowhere. You’re my guard, I’m—if we’re going to do this, it can only be casual. Nothing more.”

Cassian’s reactions were better contained this time. Nesta had no idea what the mobster holding her was thinking. Only that he had her pinned with that stare and his thumb was rubbing lazy circles against her hip bone.

“I’ll take whatever I can get when it comes to you,” Cassian finally murmured, his gaze darting to her mouth. Nesta inclined her chin and then oh. Cassian kissed her, yanking her so she was flush against the hard slab of his body. He should have tasted like the heat—Nesta was certain she did—but somehow Cassian’s mouth reminded her of snow covered mountains and swaying pine trees.

Nesta slid her arms around his neck before wrapping her legs around his waist. She was painfully aware of his cock and how it seemed to span the entirety of her back. That was likely the water and her arousal confusing her…though she didn’t need to reach between them to know Cassian’s cock was of monstrous proportions.

Right then, though, it felt safe. She wasn’t having sex in the water for UTI based reasons, and kissing him was good enough. Cassian, for all his many crimes, was tragically, a good kisser. It would have been so much easier if he wasn’t. Surely he had some sort of flaw? Other than his career and his unflinching ability to point a gun at another man's face.

Nesta kissed him rougher at the memory, her teeth tugging at his bottom lip. The inherent violence oozing from Cassian was clearly doing something for her. Nesta knew, right then, that Cassian wasn’t going to kill her. Maybe everyone else, but she believed in her very soul that Cassian had no intention of taking her life.

Why would he be kissing her if he did?

“Fuck,” Cassian breathed, the only words spoken before he returned to kissing her. Nesta took the opportunity to thread her fingers through his thick, dark hair, tossing the pony tail that kept half up off his face into the water behind them. He was so beautiful it made her sick—what happened to greasy older men in sweat suits? Since when did criminals look as good as Cassian did?

Nesta considered dragging her tongue out of his mouth to ask, but remembered only at the last minute that he didn’t know that she knew the truth about him. Better not to tell him, either—what if he decided to tie her to a chair and torture her? Why did the thought of that turn her on?

Nesta didn’t notice Cassian’s hand until he pushed aside the thin strip of cloth hiding her pussy from the world and brushed his fingers over her aching clit. Nesta jerked in his arms, pulling away to bite his shoulder.

“That’s it,” Cassian whispered as Nesta rocked against his hand. It had been so long since someone touched her—or, that’s what she told herself, anyway.

Still, it wouldn’t do to just take her pleasure at his expense. Ignoring that she was desperate to touch him, Nesta lied to herself that it was only fair to reciprocate. Nesta gripped him right beneath his blunt head so she could rub her thumb against the slit of his cock.

Cassian groaned. “Christ,” he swore, eyes fluttering shut.

“Is this what you like?” Nesta asked, stroking him once.

“Harder,” he rasped.

Of course he liked it a little rough. Nesta didn’t bother mentioning to him that she did, too. She merely tightened her grip on him and stroked again, delighting in Cassian’s open mouthed moan. Was that all it took to bring a man like him to his knees? Nesta couldn’t think about it given the way his finger was teasing her entrance.

Cassian plunged himself inside of her, eyes on her face. “That’s it,” he murmured, arching into her hand. “Take what you need.”

What she needed was him to throw her down to the floor and fuck her senseless. Nesta wanted Cassian to fuck her so hard it reset her completely, turning off the endless stream of thoughts in her mind. Even then, Nesta forgot they were in a dusk drenched lake where anyone could walk up and witness what was happening. Normally it would horrify her.

But right then, all she could think about was what he tasted like when he came. Nesta kissed him again, sliding her tongue against his in an attempt to find out.

They lived together, she reminded herself. If she wanted to taste the rest of him she could. It was tempting to ask him to put her down, get dressed, and take her home. The only reason she didn’t want the realization that she’d talk herself out of the whole thing if she stopped now.

And Cassian’s hand felt good against her aching body. Nesta was full on grinding against him, drowning in the feeling. She barely knew what she was doing to him, though Cassian’s desperate panting told her whatever it was, he liked it.

Nesta bit the sensitive skin between his shoulder and his neck hard enough to leave the imprint of her teeth behind. Cassian’s hips bucked into her hand and she wondered just how long it had been since someone had touched him like this. Nesta knew he was close, could feel the vein beneath his cock pushing against her fingers.

It half disappointed her when he did, though the sight of his parted lips and head thrown back felt religious, somehow.

“Quick off the mark, huh?” she whispered, lips against his skin.

Cassian’s grip around her body tightened the moment Nesta tried to wriggle free.

“I can sit here all night,” he all but growled, fingers moving inside her faster. “But we’re not leaving until you make you come on my hand.”

“Cass—”

“That’s right,” he praised, licking from her collarbone to her ear. “Imagine how good you’ll feel when it’s my cock instead of my hand.”

Nesta couldn’t help her little moan. It was tempting to demand he show her right then and had they not been submerged in water, Nesta might have foregone all her common sense and asked him to. Instead she closed her eyes and let herself pretend the fingers pumping in and out of her body was his cock.

Cassian used his thumb to draw tight circles around her clit, working her in tandem until Nesta was panting, too, lips pressed against his sun soaked shoulder. She couldn’t stop herself, much like it seemed Cassian couldn’t, either. Nesta came, rocking her hips against him while moaning against his skin. Cassian, for his part, chuckled softly as he ran his nose through her hair.

“I can’t wait to see you undone,” he whispered before turning her face so she had to kiss him. Nesta did, still overwhelmed by the pleasure still rocking through her. He was sweeter somehow—cooler than the air around them, softer than anything she’d ever touched.

“Do you think there are alligators here?” he asked when Nesta wriggled away, still held in his arms. She twisted to look behind her.

“I’ve never thought about it.”

Cassian only shrugged, some apprehension creeping into his expression. “Maybe we should get out.”

It only occurred to her once they were on the shore that Cassian might have wanted her to leave for different reasons.

CASSIAN:

All Cassian wanted to think about was Nesta’s pussy clenched around his fingers. The water had washed it all away and yet he could still feel the phantom grip of her tight around him and knew that if he could get himself inside her, she’d wreck him. Cassian wanted her to—was so desperate that he began constructing arguments in his mind as to why they should that very night.

Fuck her casual fling or whatever she’d said. Cassian wasn’t interested in anything that didn’t end with the two of them together. Seriously together. So he’d lie and pretend he didn’t mind because she’d never give him the time of day if she didn’t.

And what did Nesta know, anyway? She’d been alone for the last half decade, wholly on her own and taking care of herself. Let her see how it felt to be taken care of by someone else. She’d soften just enough for Cassian to make his move…and, he supposed, tell her the truth. After he had her and there was nowhere for her to go but back to his bed.

Sure, she’d rage and scream at him for a while…but in Cassian’s fantasies, she was so in love with him that she forgave him after maybe one well-deserved slap to the face. Perhaps two. No more, though. He’d figure Rhys out, too, which he figured would be a little easier. Maybe even welcome. After all, the youngest Archeron might be more willing and compliant if she knew her sister was part of Rhys’s family.

“Agnes.”

A man’s voice cut through Cassian’s musings. Looking up at the figure approaching, Cassian immediately decided he didn’t like him. Maybe it was the general smug look on his otherwise forgettable face.

Or maybe it was the way Nesta’s spine immediately straightened and her once soft face began icy and cold.

“Tomas,” she said without any affection or warmth.

That should have been enough to see the man walk away with his tail tucked between his legs. Cassian might have, had she looked at him with such open revulsion. He crossed his arms over his chest instead, spreading his legs ever so slightly in an attempt to intimidate the other man. Cassian knew he was big and he knew people were wary of him.

Most of the time, they had nothing to worry about. But this man?

Maybe he ought to be a little worried.

“Haven’t seen you around much,” Tomas said, tilting his head so Cassian could see a chunk of his ear was missing. “Busy?” Nesta only shrugged, her fingers balled to fists.

“You should hit me up some time. Finish what we started,” Tomas said, not bothering to look at Cassian at all.

“I don’t think so,” Nesta replied, never one to mince words.

Tomas opened his mouth to respond but Cassian had enough. “Take care,” he said, shoving past without a second look. Nesta came with him, keeping close as though she expected him to grab her and start running.

“Who was that?” he asked, his voice nearly drowned by the screaming crickets in the distance.

“No one,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Liar. An old boyfriend?” Cassian asked, trying to imagine that man doing anything for Nesta beyond getting on her nerves.

“Not even that,” she mumbled, her eyes strangely glassy. “We went out one time. Never again.”

Cassian felt his blood grow icy. “What did he do?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she snapped, too prideful to tell him the truth. Cassian could scarcely think, his mind running through a million new images. He could Nesta, helpless and scared while a man—

“Did he touch you?” Cassian asked, not caring how he sounded. Nesta looked up at him, eyes wide.

“He tried,” she finally admitted, turning her gaze back to the sidewalk in front of them. “I took some of his ear for the trouble.”

“Good girl,” he praised.

If only it did anything to ease his own fury. Cassian couldn’t get the images from his mind, utterly wrecking his otherwise perfect evening in the potentially alligator-infested waters. Nesta wanted the world to think she was the kind of person who wasn’t afraid of anything. That she could weather any storm.

And Cassian didn’t believe for a minute that she hadn’t been scared.

Instead of following her to bed, Cassian once again took his place on the sofa and he waited. Just like with Brent, Cassian decided to take things into his own hands while hoping Nesta wouldn’t notice. Or, if she did notice, she’d at least look the other way. Cops went rogue all the time…why couldn’t he?

Except, Cassian wasn’t a rogue cop. This was just who he was, who he’d always be. Some people were talented singers or good at crochet, but Cassian’s great skill was with a weapon. Slipping from the house, Cassian became one with the shadows as he channeled his inner Azriel. This place was supposed to be safe for Nesta and since he’d arrived, all he’d uncovered was endless harm that had happened.

What was the point of witness protection if anyone could just touch Nesta any which way? Why not send her back home and let Rhys—Cassian shook his head, the image of Rhys holding a gun at Nesta’s beautiful face slipping into his mind’s eye unbidden. He’d talk to his brother later—but Nesta was off limits to everyone. Even Rhys.

Especially to Tomas.

It was easy enough to find him, though. Tucked away in an old, plantation style house that set Cassian’s teeth on edge, Cassian discovered that Tomas must have come from some amount of money. His father did something—Nesta had mentioned it. He didn’t remember, too fixated on her mouth even in memory. Christ, but she’d been coming on his hand only a few hours before and if life was fair, he’d be in her bed while she came on his face, too.

But life wasn’t fair.

Cassian broke in through the back with ease given Tomas hadn’t thought to lock his doors. It was a blessing here in this rural little town—people felt safe. They trusted their neighbors even when their neighbors were rapists, because people in these parts thought you could tell who was a monster by sight alone.

Cassian knew better.

Cassian slipped up the steps, ignoring the ugly art on the walls and the pictures of a life that didn’t seem worth very much. He might have been interested in other circumstances but that night, all Cassian wanted was to get back to Nesta.

Tomas slept soundly in the master bedroom, unaware Cassian prowled the space looking for anything interesting. He found, helpfully, a phone with a text message from a woman threatening to kill him.

Perfect.

Maybe, he thought with amusement, they’d ask him to help investigate. Oh, how he hoped they would.

Cassian sat on the edge of the bed, letting his weight wake Tomas gently from sleep. The man looked up, bleary eyed and still unaware that Cassian had pressed the barrel of his gun into his mouth.

“Shhh,” Cassian murmured as he brushed a piece of Tomas’s hair from his frightened eyes. “My finger might slip if you move too quickly.”

Tomas tried anyway, but Cassian was bigger, stronger, and faster. With one hand, he slammed Tomas back to the bed and held him there by the throat.

“I’ll kill—”

“You’ll what?” Cassian interrupted, cocking his weapon. “Will you try and rape me, too?”

“That bitch is a liar—”

“Try again,” Cassian snarled, pressing his gun so roughly to Tomas’s temple he was certain he’d left a bruise. At least the scene would look angry, he reasoned. Like two lovers fighting over something Cassian was certain was stupid given how dumb Tomas was. Still, he was ready to be done.

“Whatever she told you wasn’t true,” Tomas said, apparently deciding he’d risk his own life rather than admit to anything honest.

Cassian made a buzzing noise with his throat. “I’m sorry, that’s the wrong answer.”

“Wait—”

If Cassian had the capacity for mercy, he might have listened. He didn’t, though. Cassian pulled the trigger with a sigh, as if the entire thing was some horrible imposition. In a way, it was. He didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to be thinking about what Tomas had done to Nesta and how no amount of killing could take any of it back. She was still hurt, would have to live with his actions for the rest of her life.

Staring down at the lifeless body before him, Cassian wished he could kill him all over again. He could have shot him a couple more times, but Cassian didn’t want to risk someone hearing him and catching him in the act. He slipped back into the night unnoticed and was on the couch before Nesta ever woke.

And Nesta loved to be up early. Feigning sleep, Cassian waited for her to speak first. “Want to do yoga with me this morning?” she whispered, coming to sit on the arm of the couch where his head was. Nesta wore a pair of tight black leggings and an even tighter top that made Cassian’s insides achey. No, he didn’t want to do yoga with her unless it was a euphemism for sex.

And then he desperately did.

“Sure,” he heard himself saying like the liar he was. It didn’t stop Cassian from pulling off his shirt just so he could watch her eyes drift down his body.

C’mon, Nesta, he pleaded silently, Take your shirt off too.

She didn’t, though Cassian swore she wanted to. Maybe he was just delusional, reading too much into her minute expressions. He did catch her eyes slide down his naked torso briefly, and that carried Cassian through the miserable humidity as Nesta walked him through yoga. He was drenched in sweat by the time they made their way back into the air conditioning, panting from exertion and the heat.

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Nesta he was going to shower. Had Cassian not turned his head at the exact right moment, he’d have missed that look on her beautiful face. Luck was with him, smiling when he opened his mouth to speak the words.

“Cassian,” she whispered. It was the only word she needed to speak—he knew what she was thinking. Cassian merely reacted, reaching for her body and hauling her upward before she could change her mind. Instead, he kissed her with all the pent up desperation he’d felt the night before, pouring his want and need into her so she felt it.

Among other things he was sure she was feeling. Cassian was nearly dizzy from the rush of blood to his cock, legs trembling despite how easy it was to hold Nesta against that floral papered wall.

Nesta’s mouth tasted like sunshine and mint and with little effort, Cassian managed to free her thick hair from the loose braid she wore. “You’re so fucking hot,” he whispered, certain if he told her how he really felt, she’d freak out. Better to ease her into it.

Nesta merely fisted his hair between long, slender fingers and yanked his head back, exposing his neck. Cassian could scarcely think as she bent forward and licked the column of his throat up from his collarbone until she reached his ear. When her teeth tugged against sensitive flesh, Cassian nearly came in his pants.

Fuck.

He was no better than a school boy.

Nesta was something from his darkest fantasies come to life. Ignoring how utterly insane her body was—and Cassian was struggling to ignore that fact—the way she kissed was something from a daydream. What would happen when he got that mouth around his cock? Cassian was desperate to find out.

Desperate enough to pull her off that wall, sloppy kissing her down the short hall until he could drop her on her bed. Cassian hadn’t seen the room and despite all the bright light flooding through open windows, Cassian knew he wasn’t going to see it right then, either.

“Take this off,” he demanded, straddling her hips as she laid flat on her back.

“Why should I do anything you tell me to?” she replied, traitorous fingers teasing the hair beneath his navel.

“Because I’ll tie you up and gag you if you don’t,” Cassian replied, too aroused by the thought.

A soft breath escaped Nesta, those icy blue eyes darker than he’d ever seen them. Something told Cassian she’d like a little roughness, at least when they were in bed. Caught up in his fantasies, Cassian almost missed Nesta arch her back off the bed, pressing her hips against his own as she peeled off that tight top.

All thoughts flew out of his head when she took that bra off, too. “Christ,” he thought he whispered, though maybe he just thought it. He had both in his hands before his mouth crashed against her own, teasing pretty, pink nipples against his calloused thumbs.

He wasn’t giving her back. When this was all over, Cassian would drag her kicking and screaming back home if he had to, but he wasn’t letting her go.

Not now, not ever.

Cassian was greedy, rubbing his cock against both the fabric covering them. He wanted to be buried within her and in service of that goal, because nipping bruising kisses along the side of her neck.

Mine, she’s mine.

Nesta threaded her fingers through his hair, yanking the hair tie out so his own dark hair fell like a curtain around his face. Cassian felt brand-new somehow, remade in her eyes. “You are…” Everything.

Cassian took a nipple in his mouth to keep himself from saying so, letting her imagine all the things he thought she was. Nesta raked her nails against his scalp, unaware of how good it felt to be touched like that. She wasn’t afraid of him, didn’t revere him. She wasn’t some weird groupie hoping to be a mob wife, nor was she some scared little thing that offered tentative touches and whispered words about if he had a weapon.

No one ever thought he was funny when he whipped out his cock.

He needed to do this right, to make her as obsessed with him as he was with her. That was, when the inevitable truth was revealed, Nesta would be more forgiving.

“These need to come off,” Cassian murmured, lips pressed to the flat skin of her stomach as he hooked a finger into the waistband of her leggings. “I need to taste you.”

Nesta merely lifted her hips in offering, leaving Cassian to grind himself against the mattress in order to keep himself together. If Cassian thought anything would be easier once Nesta was fully undressed, he was wrong. Everything about her was a dream, right down to the neat square of trimmed hair Nesta maintained between her legs.

Realizing that maybe he was just an animal, Cassian pushed apart her legs so he could look at her in the golden sunlight.

Words failed him. Not that he’d ever been a particularly loquacious man—that had always been Rhysand’s forte—but even then, nothing seemed adequate. She was perfect, too good for his blood-stained hands.

If Nesta was an angel, then he was the devil. He intended to drag her to hell with him, regardless of what she deserved. He’d already killed for this woman—twice. And as Cassian lowered himself between her legs, he knew he’d spend the rest of his life doing it. Cassian’s allegiance shifted right then—he was still a General, but he served Nesta Archeron first.

Everyone else, second.

The first taste of Nesta Archeron’s pussy was an awakening. Cassian groaned, unconcerned with seeming unaffected or like he had his life together. She was so wet and sweet and when his tongue found her clit, Nesta arched herself closer in encouragement. That was all Cassian needed to convince him to pull her against his face, breathing be damned.

All Cassian could think about was her face and what she’d look like when she came. He tried to look at her, but Nesta’s breasts got in the way of his view…not that Cassian was complaining a whole lot. There were worse things he could be staring at. Everytime Nesta took a breath, her breasts jiggled, sending a thrill of arousal straight to his balls. Did he rush his way through eating her out to feel her wrapped around his cock? Or did he take his time so he could continue staring at her tits?

Deciding he’d just use his finger as a replacement for his penis, Cassian slowed the circles he was making around her clit to gently push himself into her body. Whatever he’d been imagining was nothing like the reality of having her body clenched around him. Silken heat utterly stopped his whole body, turning Cassian into a mindless robot capable only of chasing pleasure and nothing more.

He needed to be inside her. Cassian didn’t want to wait and yet he didn’t pull himself away, either. Vowing he could do a better job, he returned to licking her with a vengeance while his finger began pumping in and out of her body.

Just wait until you see all the things I want to do to you, baby.

Next time he’d sit her on her face and have her suck him while he took his time. The thought was so arousing that Cassian desperately ground his cock into her bed, unable to stroke himself. He wasn’t going to last, he reminded himself. He knew the second he got himself inside her, he’d have minutes to get her off again before it was all too late.

Better to have her come on his tongue, just in case.

And she did, fisting his hair to hold him close, taking what she needed without a care or concern. Was this love? Cassian was certain it was. Moreso when he raised his head and she pulled him toward her, not worried that his mouth was wet from her. Nesta kissed him like she wanted him, like she was drowning in all the same feelings he was.

And when he notched the head of his cock against her still convulsing cock, he nearly told her everything. How he felt, the truth about himself—everything. Her tongue was in his mouth, which was the only thing that kept Cassian from speaking. He would have rather died than stopped.

Though, she stopped when Cassian thrust himself inside her, arching her neck to look at the shared space between their bodies. “Cassian,” she whispered, squeezed so tightly around him that somehow, Cassian couldn’t breathe.

“You can take me,” he replied, because what else was there to say? He was buried to the balls in her body and the only thing that could have convinced him to stop was her direct plea to remove himself.

Nesta looked up at him. “Who said I couldn’t?” she asked, fiery as ever.

Cassian couldn’t help his laugh. “That’s my good girl,” he praised, sliding himself out as much as he could stand—which wasn’t much, to be fair.

It was pleasure like he’d never experienced, like how he’d once dreamed it might be back when having sex with women was just a distant fantasy. No one could compare to the perfection that was Nesta Archeron, and no one ever would.

“You fuck me so well,” he panted, wrapping his fingers loosely around her throat. What did she like, he wondered? What did it take to get her off? He wished he’d asked before hand, if only to ensure he wouldn’t fuck this up. “Tell me how you liked to be fucked.” Nesta’s gaze found his, sharp enough to kill him if she’d wanted. “You talk too much,” was her only reply.

Cassian couldn’t stop—couldn’t stop his desperate thrusting, couldn’t stop his babbling.

“You look so pretty wrapped around my cock. I’ll bet you’d be prettier on your knees,” he said, reaching between them to rub at her clit.

Nesta moaned loud enough that anyone passing by wouldn’t have to guess at what she was doing. Good.

“You belong to me,” he panted, watching as she began to crest again. Her cheeks were flushed, her long hair a tangled halo around her beautiful face. And her tits bounced up and down just the way he’d hoped they would back when he’d been eating her out. He’d never forget this, would spend the rest of his life stroking his cock to the memory.

“You’re mine, Nesta,” he whispered, tightening his hold on her throat just enough to heighten her pleasure without scaring her. “You’ll always be mine.”

Nesta came with a strangled scream, clamping the walls of her pussy around him so tight it felt like she was intentionally trying to pull the come from his balls. It worked—Cassian came, too, burying his face in her shoulder to breathe her in. “Fucking hell,” he whispered, not thinking about what he’d just done.

All he could think about was how good it felt—and how badly he wanted to do it again.

Cassian needed to get her out of this place before they got caught.

He needed a plan.

#nessian #better late than ever right??

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