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myhohastuff · 24 days ago

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AAAAAAAAAAAH!

This is helping me cope! Ive already read it twice.

The Ghost of You

Banner by my dear @commonmisery

Ghost!Joel Miller x fem!reader

TLOU 2 SPOILERS AHEAD! YOU"VE BEEN WARNED!

TLOU Masterlist : Main Masterlist

Buy Me A Coffee : Kofi

Summary: After moving into Jackson, you're put up in a house that hasn't been lived in for years. Soon, you realize you aren't alone. Can you help Joel move on to the next life to be with his daughter? Or will you keep him here selfishly with you?

Warnings: TLOU 2 SPOILERS, ghost!sex, mentions of violence and the things Joels done and what happened to him. bittersweet ending. Body marking and blood but it v consensual. It's loving.

This is my love letter to the Joel fandom that has given me so much love and friendship

8.5 words

How we feeling about episode 2, besties?

It was cold. That was annoying.

How you’d wandered your fucking way out to Wyoming, you’ll never understand. One minute you were in Florida complaining about the heat, now you were being treated for frostbite in your toes.

You’d arrived in Jackson last afternoon, nearly frozen to death and had been crashing in the clinic bed ever since. The doctor, a nice older man, took care of you and a few nurses checked in overnight, and today you were cleared to get settled. Word of mouth had told you Jackson was the place to go, a safe haven, a community where people actually take care of each other. Maria Miller, the town founder, had just left your room saying she’d be outside doing paperwork whenever you were ready for the short tour. You’d get the full spiel eventually, but right now the frostbite made walking a little hard. She'd just show you her office, the mess hall, a few quick essentials and then take your to your new home.

That was when you heard shouting outside the door. One voice was Maria, the other you didn’t recognize. It was hard to hear, but you listened in with your ear pressed to the door.

“It’s been 3 years Tommy. I know this is difficult for you but-”

“You don’t know shit!”

“Excuse me? Who was there for you when you drowned your feelings in moonshine for years? Who took care of Walker while you went off on pointless revenge missions!”

“Don’t you bring him into this. Don’t fucking do that shit, Maria, you know I had too.”

A beat of silence. “You had to do whatever you had to do to deal with what happened. We forgive you, we took you back here and the whole town in glad for it. But Tommy… Jackson is growing. We need the space-”

“You never fucking liked him! You never wanted him around! I bet you’re glad-”

The shouting began to overlap each other, voices raising until you were uncomfortable enough with the man’s temper you grabbed your gun and opened the door, pointing it at him.

“Settle down there, cowboy. Ain’t nice to yell at a lady.”

The next few minutes were embarrassing, to say the least. Maria explained that Tommy was her ex-husband. She didn’t go into the argument, but she assured you, not without gratitude, that firstly she could handle herself, and second that Tommy wasn’t a threat.

After Tommy left with a pointed ‘fuck you’ in your direction, you turn back to find Maria rolling her eyes.

“He’s a good man. I promise. Good dad, works hard, takes care of his people. He just gets… well, there’s some sore spots. C’mon let’s get you home. I bet you’re tired.”

Settled into the house that felt way too big for just you, your thoughts drift to the man. He was older, 50’s maybe? Dark brown hair with a few streaks of gray and tired lines around his eyes, but handsome. He was so angry, and angry at you. What the hell did you do? You hadn’t even been here a day! Fucking unreal. Men were men no matter where you went, but their temper tantrums never ceased to amaze you.

The house was pretty empty. You’d been given a few furnishings, but the house was stripped of all character, certainly taking apart everything the previous owner had. Had the place been occupied since the world fell apart? Or had someone who lived here died? You wondered how. You wondered if they had family, or if the town was their family.

The kitchen had kindly been stocked up pretty well, and you’d been given some toiletries so after eating, you enjoyed your first warm bath in a long time. Running water, and it was warm? Fantestic. You boiled a pan of water and tossed it into the tub for some extra heat just how you liked it.

In bed that night, that’s when things got weird. You felt a coldness wash over your body, a shiver you didn’t expect under the warm blankets. Then the window unlatched and flew open. You gasp, fearful at first, but then justify that since it’s on springs, the latch must’ve been not done right and just sprung open. No big deal. But then you felt a hand on your cheek and you froze.

It didn’t linger more than a second. The touch was fluid, but not wind, not air. There was a roughness to it, the distinct feeling of a large hand cupping your face… but you weren’t scared. Instead, you felt calmed. Relaxed.

It became routine, after a few weeks, you refused to go to sleep until you felt it, the touch of warmth on your face, and you felt safe. It didn’t take long for you to believe you had a ghost; after the cordyceps, ghosts were never far from disbelief, something you’d always been open to, but the question was who.

That would be answered soon enough. You could just ask, yeah, but you wanted to find out, in their own words. As the days progressed, you’d been given time to recover and adjust before working, so you spent a lot of time settling into your house. This was not without its encounters with the ghost. More and more, they seemed to get stronger, able to do more, communicate more. There were items shuffled around, bigger and bigger until the couch was moved.

“I don’t like it there.” You said out loud, pushing it back a few feet.

They moved it again.

“Come on, you’re being annoying.” You move, just for it to get moved back again.

You throw your hands up in the air. “Fine! At least be useful and carry the chair upstairs.” No response, no movement. “Dick.” A gust of wind through your hair and you giggle.

You scribble together a make-shift ouija board, a circle tied from some guitar string you found in a box the ghost knocked off a shelf that must’ve not been cleaned.

Candles lit, you cross legged on the floor, you try to get information. Requests for the name came up empty, but the string moved to “yes” when asked if they were a man.

“How old are you? Or- were you?”

5. 6.

“Old man.” You chuckle when wind brushes your hair. You’d learned this was his way of teasing.

“How did you die?”

D-o-n-t-g-o-g-o-l-f-i-n-g

“Don’t go golfing? What does that mean?”

No response.

“Was that a joke?”

Yes.

“Well, I don’t get it. You know that, right?”

Yes.

“Fine, don’t wanna talk about death I see. Fair enough, never been there myself but I heard it’s not fun. Uhhhhhh got any kids?”

“Go on.”

2 g-i-r-l-s. 1 d-e-a-d.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that… where is the other?”

I-d-o-n-t-k-n-o-w

“Shit, i’m sorry about that too. Must be confusing.” Not knowing where your daughter is must be hard. “Is your other daughter with you? In the afterlife I mean?”

e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g-i-s-d-a-r-k

That broke your heart. “Must be scary.”

Yes

Then, the string moved again.

N-e-w-t-o-p-i-c

a-b-o-u-t-y-o-u

For whatever reason, this makes you blush. You spend the evening telling him about yourself, sharing details and asking him the same. He didn’t like talking about his family, refused to answer any more questions. Wouldn’t say his name.

But it was the first time you’d been called beautiful over ouija board, you knew that much.

Even after you began working, every evening you’d run home to spend time with this ghost of a man. The most people saw of you outside your day labor was a pop into the mess hall to take food home or the clinic as they checked you were recovering okay.

“Don’t see much of you.” The doctor commented. “You adjusting okay? I know it’s a lot to get used to.”

You blink in confusion. You were fine. Happy, even. Sure, you didn’t get to know anyone… but why would you? You did your part for the community, then you went home. Hell, you volunteered extra hours sometimes, picking up more than your fair share. You just didn’t want to get close, that’s all. People died, you’d learned that hard lesson early in life, and learned it over and over and over again. There was no point in making friends, falling in love. Not when it was all so fragile.

But you had your ghost man. He had already crossed that barrier, so there was nothing to fear. Nothing to lose.That night, you talked out loud to him about your day as you always did, he made little sounds knocking cabinets together or brushing a breeze on your skin to let you know he was listening. Sometimes winds rustled your hair when he thought you were funny. Then, the wind turned into a gust, and two firm hands pressed you down the hall, the message clear.

“Jesus! I’m going I’m going!” You follow the breeze bushing you. Fuck he was getting more powerful every day. Pushed to the kitchen, you’re face to face with the fridge.

“If this is a fat joke- hey!” Two distinct fingers pinched your cheek and you laughed. “Okay, tell me what you want!” A breeze, and you hear a fluttering between the fridge. When you bend down and dig around the dust bunnies, you find a piece of distinct photograph paper, and pull it out. On it was a picture of a man, 30’s, maybe 40’s if you were pushing it, his arm wrapped around a hung girl holding a trophy. They looked happy.

“Is this you?”

The picture ruffled in your hand.

“And the girl, that your daughter?”

The pictures motion was repeated. This looked like it was from before, from long ago… you assumed the girl was the daughter that died.

“It’s so cute…” You traced the picture of your ghost, having a face but no name still. Your feel warm, a blush creeping around your skin and a deep heat settling in your stomach. He was handsome. You’d never really pictured him,, besides a few wandering thoughts here and there, but nothing stuck. You put his picture on your fridge.

At night, the image of his face danced in your head, unable to sleep. It was weird, this friendship you had with the ghost in your house, but you didn’t really care. There were worse things in this world, darker ways to cope. So what if a dead man made you happy, made you blush and grin and giggle. So what if he was the reason your hand was currently being shoved into your PJ’s.

You’d be lying if you hadn’t touched yourself that first night, but this was the first night you pictured his body on your, his face, that beard…

“Are you watching me?” You asked, panting. That was a first too. You knew there was a possibility he watched, but you didn’t really care. Never had. Now, you hoped he did.

A pause.

Then, the liquid touch of a hand on your face. He was here. He was watching.

“Good.” You assure him, hoping he stays. “Want you to watch.” Your fingers begin to pump in your cunt, and you kick off the covers. So what if it was cold, you wanted him to see you. You thought about what it would be like to feel his face buried between your legs, what his voice sounds like, how he’d touch you-

“You can touch me, if you want. Not just my face.” It was a bold statement. Things with you and him had been friendly, close, a little flirty… but nothing so far had suggested more. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t. Maybe he just watched to watch. Maybe you embarrassed him and he left.

Then his touch landed on your face, slowly trailing down, down, until you could feel hands on your breasts. The slightest brush on lips ghost the shell of your ear, your cheek, and your heart swells. He wants to kiss you.

“You can kiss me. It’s okay.” It wasn’t as strong a touch a his hands, but he ridgid texture of chapped lips touch yours, and ripples of pleasure flow throughout the erogenous zones on your body, far ore reach than two hands ever could. It tickles, and it feels fucking good.

“Wish you were here….” You mumble, still fucking yourself as hips bucked against yoru fingers, sopping wet sounds fill the quiet bedroom. “Never connected to anyone the way I have you.” A squeeze on your leg reassured you, and soon your tits were being messaged in a way clumsy human hands couldn’t do. It was like the rolling ocean crashing and waving and peaking on the tender flesh, a surreal experience to your touch-starved body.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m f-fuck, you’re gonna make me cum-”

Then you hear it, clear as day, sharp and quick against your ear.

“Joel.”

His name. You cry it out as your pussy clenches down on your fingers.

After that, ghost sex was something you and Joel regularly engaged in. He couldn’t really speak much still, usually only getting out one word. Generally it was ordering you to cum, sometimes a single word compliment slipped through with a southern accent.

“Beautiful.” He whispered as you lay in bed, satiated and panting.

He thought you were beautiful when you came.

There was never another reason to go anywhere outside of your home other than to work or get food, and more and more you just got groceries and worked with what you had. You liked cooking with him ,you didn’t want to be away.

Today, as you tried to make soup, you couldn’t help laugh as he managed to speak “More seasoning” and lift a fuck ton of herbs up and into the pot. At least he was a helpful ghost.

“You can just make it next time!”

You expect to feel your hair rustle, but instead his voice speaks.

“Tommy.”

Then a knock on the door. You were so startled (people never visited you) you almost didn’t answer. No one outside that door could be worth time away from Joel, but he pushed you to answer, a desperation in his actions that matched the tone he spoke the name.

When you answered, you would have shut the door if you weren’t curious about Joel’s reaction.

There stood the man who got in a shouting match with Maria. Oh, yeah, Tommy, that’s right. But why was he here? Tommy was tall, but his posture at the moment was sunken, sheepish. When he looked at you, pink dusted his tan skin. “Can I talk t’yuh?”

You narrow your eyes. “Sorry, but the last time we spoke you weren’t exactly polite enough for me to feel like welcoming you inside, and every time I’ve seen you, you give me dirty looks.”

He nods. “I understand, that’s why I uh… wanted t’explain myself. I shouldn’t’ve done that, but I was angry. Ain’t right, still…”

“What could I have possibly done to you?”

His eyes were large, brown, and wet. “This was uh… my brother’s house. He died 3 years ago.”

5 Minutes later, Tommy was sitting on the couch with you, cup of soup in hand. You hadn’t felt or heard Joel, but this was your chance. Some answers.

“Funny.” He pats the couch. “This was his. Was right here for years, never moved it.”

“It’s uh… a good spot. Now, I think you had some explaining to do?”

“Right…“ Tommy rubbed the back of his neck. “The house has been empty since he died. My wi- ex wife, I guess, kept it empty out of courtesy but she was right. It was time to move on.”

“Did he die in here?”

He shook his head. “No.”

Tommy explained it to you. The revenge that was enacted on his brother for saving the girl, Ellie. You wondered if that was his daughter he mentioned, but Tommy just referred to her as his kid. How the woman and their group killed him, Tommy saw his brother's head bashed in, brain matter on the walls.

The golf joke still didn’t make sense, but you’d figure it out. You learned more about Joel too, that he was from Texas, that his daughter, Tommy niece, died on outbreak day. Joel’s birthday. Joel played the guitar, he liked to swim, was an overbearing brother and loving dad. He was married once. He learned to cook to get Sarah to eat veggies so he was pretty good at it. Was a good man. The best, the way Tommy spoke.

“I know it ain’t right the way I’ve treat’n yuh. And I know it’s not your fault. I just hadn’t been handling his death well, you know? Lost my wife, almost lost my son… I ain’t been the man he raised me to be. I now you don’t… do anything. In town. That’s probably my fault and I’m so-”

“You think I stay home because I’m avoiding you?” You nearly bark out a laugh, his eyes growing in confusion. “Brother, I ain’t scared of no man, if I wanted to go to the movie nights I would have!”

Tommy processes this information, sipping on the last of the soup broth. “Oh… I guess I just assumed...”

“Well, you know what they say about assuming. Make’s an ass out of you and me. Here, gimmie.” You take his mug, walking to the kitchen to rinse it and still giggling.

Tommy follows you. “Well I’m sorry! I guess I just figured, the time’n ‘n all.”

You throw a look over your shoulder. “I stay home because I like it here. Because I’ve been alone for years, so I’m fine with it.”

“But why not-” He stops in his tracks. “Where did you get that?”

You follow his line of view and realize your mistake. “Uh. I uh. I found that while cleaning the kitchen, by the fridge. I guess I thought it was nice, so I hung it up… why? Who is it?”

You knew the answer before he even spoke Joel’s name. You had to pretend to be surprised, but even worse, you knew what you needed to do.

“Keep it.” You say, pushing the picture closer to him, breaking you a bit. You had to hide every emotion, because there was no reason for you to have any attachment to it. He didn’t know what you and Joel shared with each other. Who he was to you. It didn’t matter, because Joel was his brother. The girl was his niece. He deserved the picture.

“That’s her. That’s Sarah.” Tommy continued, confirming your suspicions as his finger trailed over the girl.

“She’s adorable.”

“Yeah… she was. Great kid too.”

Tommy helped you wash up the dishes from making soup, you and him talking more. He was nice when he wasn’t yelling. You could understand why he was so upset at the time, and you forgave it.

You told as much as he stood in your doorway. “I don’t hold it against you. I promise.”

He nods, smiling and looking more at ease. “Promise you’ll come to the next movie night, it’s tomorrow. It’ll be good for you, I promise.”

“What’s playing?‘

“Scream 2!”

You roll your eyes. “Not the first one?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Tommy says with a tease. “Is fucking scream 2 at the end of the world not enough for you?”

You shove him out of your door, laughing. “Fine! I’ll fucking come. But only to see Timothy Olyphant.”

You shut the door, and turn around still laughing. But what you see shocks you so bad, you’d have screamed if you didn’t cover your mouth.

It was Joel. Faint. Barely there. A dead eyed stare. Much older than the picture and his hair was longer. But it was him.

“Joel?” You say, tentatively walking towards him. He wasn’t looking at you, instead, he was looking at the door, unmoving, unblinking, unbreathing. Your hand passes through him and when his form dissipates, you fall to the ground and cry.

“Are you mad at me?” You ask. He was strangely quiet the rest of the day, only a few little touches here and there. No ghost sex that night. When you are getting out of work clothes and putting something warm on for the movie, you bring it up.

“No.”

“Well, you’ve hardly talked to me. Is it because I asked Tommy as those questions about you? I’m sorry, it’s just easier that way and I wanted to know what happened to you-”

“I miss him.”

Three whole words.

“You’re getting stronger. Did you mean to appear to me yesterday?”

“You saw me?”

“Yeah, and I hear you really good now.” You grin. “I can’t believe you’re talking this much. Maybe I’ll skip the movie, I don’t wanna lose-”

“No. Go.” a brief pause. “Please.”

“Joel Miller,” You tease him. “Are you having me check on your baby brother?” He rustles your hair.

So, you started hanging around Tommy more. It started as filling Joel in on his life, but really, you liked being around Tommy. He was easy to talk to.

You lay on your side in bed, trying to picture his face as you’d done every night for months as you talk to him. Joel’s voice was clear, fully communicating with you now. Every now and then you could see a glimpse of him in a mirror or the faint frozen picture of him standing somewhere, usually after Tommy was over.

“Walker is doing really well.” You tell him about his nephew you’ve met a few times. For a few years, Tommy was barely around after Joel’s death, most of the time he was drunk. There was an incident several months ago where Tommy passed out of the couch and Walker tried to start the stove, resulting in a small kitchen fire, and Tommy effectively lost custody of his son. Not that family court existed here, but Tommy knew he couldn’t be there. This was shortly after you moved in, and was the reason Tommy finally got sober. Things were going better now, and he’s repairing that relationship.

“You met him?”

“Yeah, he’s quiet. But he’s very polite.” Tommy said he takes after Joel. Walker and Joel had been very close before he died, Tommy adored the little boy. The little boy in question was now 8, growing up.

He sighs. “Yeah, he was a good kid. I never had a son, figured raise’n Tommy was close enough. But when I was with him… Sometimes I think back to when Sarah died, how hard Tommy fought to keep her alive… yuh know, after she died I was just, I was drowning in my sadness. There was no room for Tommy’s grief, I guess. He’s stronger than I gave him credit for, because he was always there for me. If I had lost Walker… I dunno if I could have been that strong.”

A few days later, you invite Tommy and his son over for dinner, and as you stare at Walker eating his food and laughing you can see Joel. He’s no longer a still picture, he’s moving, and smiling, and laughing too. No one else can see or hear him.

But he looks right at you.

You can see him now, laying on the pillow beside you as the pair of you talk. Sometimes he’s tangible, hands touching your face and you can see his tan skin through your peripheral. Sometimes it’s more faint, like he’s using all his strength to be see and he can’t materialize his touch. You don’t know how it works, but you’re happy to see his face. Joel has kind eyes, a softness in a world of blood and violence.

“You're beautiful.” And it’s your voice whispering it to him, because he is. Every line on his face, the scar on his forehead, the tired darkness under his eyes as if an eternity to sleep wasn’t enough. Every little freckle you could map on his face on days he was more clear. It was perfect. It was him.

A sadness crosses over those pools of brown. “I really don’t deserve you…” When you open your mouth to protest, he continues. “I’ve killed people.”

That wasn’t a shock. Who hasn’t? “I have too.”

But Joel shakes his head, curls staying in place as if gravity is now inconsequential, as if he’s frozen in time with a single lock on his forehead. “No, I’ve killed innocents. A lot. Me ‘n Tommy, before… and protect’n Ellie…”

You thought about this for a while, a chill of cold reminiscent of when he first came to you makes you shiver, but when you look at him, you don’t feel the repulsion you know he expects. “You kill children?”

“No.” He says firmly, a glimmer of sadness crossing his eyes. You didn’t think so, knowing he knew what that loss was. “But that don’t make it much better.”

“Did rape anyone? Kill people for fun? Get off on it?”

Disgust mares his features. “No, never.”

You nod. “You kill any innocent people since coming to Jackson? Settling here?”

Again, a shake of his head doesn’t knock loose a single hair. “No, but before-”

“I’m not worried about before.” You voice is soft, and you tentatively reach a hand out to caress his face. His skin was soft, softer than a man in his 50’s would be, but that’s what happens when you aren’t fully there. “I don’t care about that. Really, I don’t. You deserve a second chance just as much as anyone does. The world out there-” You vaguely whisk your hand around. “Does things to us. As far as I’m concerned, as long as you’re not a rapist, didn’t kill kids, not one of those really, really bad people… I think you deserve to leave that all outside the gates of Jackson.”

His eyes soften, affection pooling with something more. “Thank you, darl’n I mean it. I wasn’t always forgiven in that life. Nice to know someone does in this one,”

Your heart aches for him, so you try to ease his pain. “Tommy forgives you, I know it. You heard how he talks about you.”

But he’s still distant. “Maybe. But maybe he just misses me. That’s different. Besides, there’s someone I know hasn’t.”

“Ellie?”

He nods. “She…. well, we just started talk’n, right before I died. Didn’t have the chance to find out if she ever would, you know? Now I never will.”

“She does, Joel. It’s been years, I know she does.”

But he didn’t believe you.

Joel’s words stuck with you, simmering in your head like the soups he helps you make. Today you were on patrol with a fairly quiet partner, so you had nothing left to do but think, think, think. Why did his words affect you so much? He was so stuck on forgiveness, even though he’d never know-

Oh.

That’s why he was trapped here, wasn’t it? Joel’s ghost remained behind because he didn’t have the closure he needed. Tommy and him had made up, but Joel died not knowing if Ellie ever did. Years of estrangement for taking her from the hospital, for saving her, for lying, and he wasn’t sorry, he told you himself. But he needed Ellie’s forgiveness. He needed to know Tommy didn’y hold resentment. He needed to know they were safe, that they were okay.

Joel couldn’t talk to Tommy. For some reason, you could hear him speak when Tommy was around, see him, but Tommy never reacted. Joel couldn’t even move things or create a breeze when he was around…

If Joel got what he needed, the forgiveness, the resolution he longed for, he could move on. You knew it. He was getting stronger every day, his appearance crystal clear, his touch more and more solid, less fluid than before. You wanted little more than to have him like that, as close to a real person as he could get, at your home you shared with him every single day, every hour, sleeping next to him, cooking with him, fucking him… part of your mind told you that you could do it.

But that wasn’t right. He’d be little more than a housewife, a sex doll, a captive. You could keep him there, to be your only friend outside of occasionally seeing his brother, the person who knew you best, someone always there to talk because what other options did he have?

That wasn’t you. The rational part won out, and your knew what you had to do.

Tommy’s face was one of worry when you told him you’d seen the ghost of his brother. You’d spilled it all out, sparing the ghost sex details, but instead of shock, he just asked you if you ere okay.

“Yes! Tommy I’m fine-”

“I dunno, you’re kinda a weird person to begin with, see’n shit wouldn’t be that new-”

“Tommy!” You stand abruptly from his couch,�� pulling at your hair. “I’m not seeing- I’m not hallucinating him! You don’t understand, I see him, I see him every fucking day that’s why I don’t go anywhere!”

A sympathetic look crossed his face. “Honey, maybe you’re seeing him because you’re alone every day.”

“I’M NOT CRAZY!!” You shout at him, and he softens.

“I know, I know.” Tommy stands. “Maybe… maybe you should stay here a few days, maybe this is a yellow wallpaper situation, you gotta get fresh air, a new environment-” he reaches for your arm but you yank it away.

“Does the term ‘don’t go golf’n mean anything to you?”

Confusion crosses his face. “Not really, why?”

A deep breath. “He… I asked how he died, with a ouija board i made and he just said don’t go golfing. Never explained.”

Tommy’s skin paled, the freckles on his face a stark contrast against him. His face a deadly calm. “How did you know that.”

You can’t help but groan. “I told you, he-”

“ENOUGH GAMES!” The sudden shout shocks you, and you step back. Tommy must’ve realized he was scaring you, so he calmed down just a bit. “I’m serious. This isn’t fucking funny.”

Tears of frustration and sadness filled your heart, begging him to believe you. You didn’t think Tommy would hurt you, but the distress he was in was clear. “I wouldn’t joke about this… he- he said it was a joke I wouldn’t get, and I don’t. Tommy please, I’m being serious…”

Then, the realization dawned on him, clear as day. He believed you. “Holy shit. You’re telling the truth…”

“I am.” You sob. “Tommy I swear I’m telling the truth. He needs help, he’s trapped here… we need to help him…”

He was shaking. “C-can I see him?”

It broke your heart to say no. He can only appear to me, I think…He’s tired when you are over…“

Dizzy, Tommy sits down. “He was round… whenever I was over, wasn’t he? That’s why I always feel so calm there…”

You nod. “He calms me too. I don’t know how.” You join him on the couch again. “Tommy, what does don't go golfing mean?”

His face is buried in his hands, and you think he’s crying. It’s a lot, you know, it’ a lot to spring on someone, especially that he can’t hear or see him still, his own brother so close and yet so far. But you were doing this for him, so that he could move on, so that he could see his Sarah in the afterlife.

When Tommy finally looked up, his face and hands were soaking wet.

“He was killed with a golf club. We never told anyone about that.”

Joel stood behind you, clear and crystalline, his body practically human. He was cold, but he brought you comfort. “Something on your mind, darl’n?”

You don’t wanna lie to him, but you can’t tell him what’s happening, not yet. You want a few more days without this hanging over you both.

“Tommy left for a few weeks. Just worried.” You didn’t tell him he went to find Ellie, to go back to the farmhouse she lived in with Dina and see if she’s there, if Dina knows where she lives kows anything. To try and convince Ellie that this woman she’s never met his eeing her dad as a ghost and they need to help him move on. But hes gonna try.

A week later, the town was in a ruckus, Tommy returning to Jackson with the prodigal daughter, her girlfriend, and a little boy.

Turns out Ellie went back to Dina, begged for her back on hands and knees, and they’d been living alone out in the country for years raising JJ. They all looked good, healthy, happy… Ellie was skeptical but she agreed to come as a favor to Tommy. Everything was planned for tomorrow, but as you lay in bed with Joel for the last time, you can’t bring yourself to tell him.

You wanted one last night.

Joel kissed you, languid and soft, his hands roamed your naked and prone body and for the first time, you noticed something. A tent in his pants. A ghost had gotten an erection for you.

“Joel…” You moan, feeling him rutt against you.

“I know, I feel it too.” His voice is husky against your ear, and chills flow throughout your body as you realize what this means. Joel was firm, his body fully here and he was hard. Joel could fuck you.

He went feral after that, yanking down your PJ shorts so fast your barely had time to lift your hips, but it didn’t matter. You spread your legs to welcome to fingers the plumged into your body, absolutly dripping for the man laid beside you. Joel’s breath was hot, growling and grunting as e finger fucks you open, preparing you to take his cock for the first time.

“You’re always s’fucking wet.” He says between sucking kisses on your neck. You didn’t care if he left hickies on you, you were just beyond ecstatic that he was strong enough to leave marks. You wanted him to be with you in some way permanently. “Been wish’n I could feel you since that first day, so sweet, so beautiful, always so ready for my touch.”

You paw at him, groping his body and trying to just get his massive form on top of you. “Need you.” You beg like a needy young thing, like you’d never been fucked properly before, like you needed to be filled and taken and ravaged.

“I got yuh, darl’n…” Joel murmur, rolling over on top of you, his cock heavy- when had his clothes come off?

Knelt before your body, Joel was magnificent. His body was broad, thick, not quick as barrel chested as his brother, he held it more in the shoulders. Down his chest and stomach held scares, fat, and a trail of hair leading down, down, down to where his cock hung thick and leaking and cut. You forgot he was a ghost; he didn’t feel like one, he felt real. He felt here. Tears filled up in your eyes, and Joel leans over, his body covering yours in his cool skin.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asks in a gentle voice, thumbing away a stray tear. “I hope yuh ain’t scared’a me? Are yuh?”

You’ve never been more sure of saying no in your life. “Ain’t scared.” You whisper. “I just… I love you so much…” It wasn’t necessarily a lie. You did love him. But that wasn’t why you were crying, not really anyway. No, you cried because this was goodbye.

Joel’s eyes, black pupils swallowing the beautiful brown with lust, grew wet themselves as he smiles down at you. “I love you too. So damn much.”

Your nails did into his back, relishing in the firm, solid feel of him. This was real. He was real. “Fuck me, please. Make love to me. I want to feel you, really feel you…”

Plush lips kissed you as he slid inside, a wave of calm relaxed your body, allowing you to take his considerable length inside you. He was big, stretching you open slowly while you accommodate him.

“Fuck, it’s like you’re made for me…” He moans in your ear, desperate like he’s falling apart at one stroke. But he doesn’t. When he fucks you, it’s with more vigor, more energy than you’ve ever felt from a living person, a slap of skin from his hips meeting your thighs, his balls heavy and slapping against your ass, his fingers digging, digging digging so deep inside as you wished he’d bruise you, wished he’d cut you open and crawl inside so he could never leave you, two souls as one. To know and to be known at the deepest level. Souls and bodies barred to each other. Nothing left to hide.

He couldn’t do that, so as Joel slammed his cock into you, you begged for something else. “Mark me.” You whimper, getting a reaction of confusion from your lover, so you take his hand and dig his nails into your tender hips. “I need to know this is real. All of it.” The tears come again when you can see him want to deny you. “This isn’t forever, you know this can’t before but I- Joel I need something to be forever! We can’t get married, you can’t leave me pictures or presents or- or kids, Joel, I need to be able to remember you.”

His movements slow. “Oh, pretty baby…” He murmurs lowly. “I’ll give anything if it means you can’t forget me.” he kisses you deeply, sucking in your tongue and before he pulls away he nips your lip. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”

But nothing of Joel could be too much.

A shape gasp as he dug into you, left hand bracing himself on the bed as he never stopped fucking you, rolls of pleasure coured your body like it had tha first night, swirling over your clit and dragging you screaming to the edge. And screaming you were.

“Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” You shout so loud you don’t care who hears you. Half the town thinks you’re fucking Tommy anyway. Don’t stop fucking you, don’t stop marking you, don’t, don’t, don’t go.

You could keep him to yourself. Tell Ellie and Tommy you lied, or that he went away and you can’t see him any more. Anything so that he doesn’t get what he needs, that he stays with you forever.

He’s impossibly deep inside, but in your leaking, dripping channel and into your hip. The cut of his nails goes further than they should go, but you don’t question it. Instead, you focus on the feeling of him marking your flesh, of him making your insides as his as he cums deep in your stomach. Your cunt pulses around him as your draw out whatever he’s filling you with, you don’t care. It’s him.

“More, more” You cry into his shoulder, but he’s already slowing his thrusts.

“I’m as deep as I can go, baby…” He stays bottomed out inside you, but his hands withdrawal from your side as you come down. His bloody hand cups your face, dripping with your own warmth.

You sob against his cold skin, Joel wrapping you into a hug as the overwhelming emotion of what happened floods you, and it’s too much. You need more, but it’s not him deeper, not him scaring you, and not him filling you up.

It’s more time.

You wake up with blood on your face and your wounds cleaned and bandaged, with Joel’s body gone, as it usually is in the morning. It took until the afternoon for him to appear again.

“Sorry baby.” He apoligized, hugging you. “I dunno why I can’t control coming better.” He poked your side, and you knew he meant a double entendre but you didn’t have it in you to laugh.

“It’s okay. Last night used a lot. You probably needed to rest.”

“Yeah…” He touched the bandage he’d put on your hip with soft intent. “How you feel’n bout this?”

You smile. “Great. But Joel…” You turn around to face him, his face frowning with worry. “I gotta tell you something… I told Tommy about you…” Before he has a chance to ask questions, you spill it out. “And he went and found Ellie, she’s hear. I think… I think if you reconcile with her, with Tommy, once the air is cleared… you can move on.”

For a long moment, he stares at you, unmoving, unblinking, frozen as the picture that used to hang on your door. Then he speaks. “You know… that means I can’t see you again, right.”

Damn the tears the spring forth, damn the well of emotions overflowing your body, a trickle of a leak in the damn, then it cracks, and it all breaks. You begin to sob in his arms. “I know, I know… but it’s not right for me to keep you here! You- you said it’s dark, and you’re scared.”

“I ain’t scared when I’m with you…”

“But you won’t always be with me! I need to help you move on! It’s unnatural, it’s wrong, you need to be with Sarah, you need to be at peace knowing Sarah and Tommy love you, that they forgive you!”

He lets you cry, holding you close in strong arms as he realized what was happening. He’d see Ellie again. You were willing to give him up just so he could get his happy end.

His voice in your ear.

“Ellie.”

She was skeptical, understandingly. Pretty, short, in her 20’s with brown hair cropped into a pixie and looking annoyed. She sat next to Tommy with her arms crossed and practically glaring at you.

“I’m gonna need more proof than some golf joke.”

“It was enough to get you here, wasn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes. “I owed Tommy for every fucking time he saved my damn life, that’s why I’m here.” She turned to her uncle. “We’re even, by the way.”

“Sure as shit are.” He sighs, then looks at you. “He here?”

You gesture to the couch. “Yeah he’s sitting right- hey!”

Ellie swung her hand over where you said Joel was sitting, doing nothing but annoying Joel who tried in vein to smack her away, telling her to cut the shit.

“I don’t fucking feel anything.”

“That’s not how it works Ellie!” Tommy flicked her arm. “Relax.”

With a huff, she crossed her arms again. “Fine.”

Tommy looked to you, then to Joel, then back to you. “Tell her something only Joel would know.”

When you turn to Joel, he’s looking at Ellie with sadness. She looks different, a lot older, yet she’s still Ellie to him. He doesn’t turn to you. ‘David.’ He instructs, and you turn to her.

“Do you know a David?” And suddenly her skin blanches. Ever so slightly, she’s shaking, but then she turns to Tommy. “Did Joel fucking telling you that!?”

From beyond Tommy’s protests that he doesn’t know who Daivid is, did she mean David Turner, who was a local here, or David Sanchez, who died last month in a raid? Joel insists he’d never tell that to anyone, but Ellie can’t hear him.

You try to calm them. “He says he was someone you met after leaving Jackson the first time, that you did the right thing by killing him.”

“Yeah! I fucking did!”

“He says if he goes to hell, David is the first person he’s finding.”

She stops, information processing in her head that there was no way Joel wold have told whoever David was to Tommy. “David tried to rape me when I was 14.” She grits out. “I stabbed him to death and let his body burn up.”

Tommy turns to her, horrified but doesn’t speak.

You nod. “Good.”

And then, she sinks into the couch. “Whenever I had nightmares… Joel always told me David was the first person he’d find in hell. He was convinced he was going there.”

You chuckle. Yeah that sounds like Joel. “He loves you both very, very much… and the uncertainty is what’s keeping him here. I need to help him move on.”

“So what? You’re some sort of fucking medium?”

“No, I’ve never had anything like this happen before but… He started appearing to me. Little touches, cold spots, breezes… then he started moving things, hearing his voice…. Now I can see him, he’s as clear as you are, honestly.”

Tommy speaks now. “He’s gotta know-” He tries to turn to where you said Joel was, but you can tell he’s struggling to talk to a brown cushion. “You gotta know we love you, don’t know? How can you doubt that?”

‘Tell him I do. But tell him… I don’t know if he forgives me.’

“Joel knows you both love him, but that’s not why he’s stuck. He needs to know you forgive him.”

Ellie is staring sone faced at a wall, but Tommy is looking down at his hands now, this seems easier. “Joel… those things we did… it’s been a long time. I was angry, yeah, I fucking hated you for a while but…” He shakes his head, silver streaks shimmering in the deep brown of his hair. “I got Walker now and… after he was born man, I think I got it. The things we did to survive… you were willing to do some of the worst shit out there, damning your own soul to save me. I’d do the same for my kid, if I needed to.”

‘But I shouldn’t have made you do any of it, Tommy.’

“Joel feels bad that he made you participate.”

“You didn’t make me do fuck’n shit, brother. I was a grown ass man, even if you still thought of me as a reckless teenager. I made my choices, and I understand why you made yours. You lost your baby, I know damn well you couldn’t take lose’n your brother either. I forgive you, but you also gotta forgive yourself, brother.”

Ellie pipes up. “I get it too, Joel. I told you that night, I didn’t know if I could forgive you… telling you I couldn’t… but… UUGHHHH!” She slumps down, covering her face. “Joel I was angry! I was angry and I was stupid but I was a teenager! I was just- just a kid who had these grand schemes of changing the world! But we don’t know if it could’ve worked. But I forgive you, Joel. I was always gonna forgive you, even before you went and fucking left me! I don’t know why I had to do that, why i treated you the way I did-”

‘You were a teenager, that’s normal-’

“But I think about it, every single day I think about it and what I should've said and done better but I get it now. I don’t know what you’ve been told but I got my kid now. I know you’re old man brain is probably trying to work out how two women had a baby-”

Joel laughs, and so does Ellie.

“But it’s Jesse’s. Dina got pregnant before Jesse and her broke up and he… he died. But I’ve been raising him with her the last few years… She took me back… You ask me on the porch that night if she treats me good and Joel…” Ellie sighs, smiling. “She really does.”

‘Tell ‘er I’m glad. That I always liked her, and I wanna know the kids name.’

“Joel says he doesn’t blame you for being mad at him, or how you talked to him. He says he’s glad Dina and you are happy. What’s the babies name?”

Ellie grins, pride in her eyes. “The baby is almost 4 now. His name is JJ. Jesse Joel.”

Tear fill up Joel’s eyes, fatherly love overwhelming him and for a moment, you think how sweet this is, how nice. Then you notice he’s not as clear as he was before.

“Joel!” You rush to his side and take his hand, kneeling at the couch. “Joel, I think it worked… you’re fading…” You try to grip his hand, as if holding on tighter would keep him here with you, keep him ground in this world. Without him, you weren’t sure what you’d do with your life, who you’d talk to or confide in…. But you knew, you knew above all you’d miss him. There would never be another Joel.

‘Please-’ He sounds desperate now, scared even. ‘One more time, tell them I love them, I just- I love them so much fucking much.’

Through your sobs, you relay the message. “He needs you to know how much he loves you guys. He talks about you all the time, he- you’re everything to him.” You see Ellie and Tommy holding hands, Ellie crying and Tommy looking close.

“We love you, Joel. All of us.” Ellie says, to nowhere in particular.

‘And the kids. Walker and- fuck I ain’t never met JJ but I love him too. If, if there’s a heaven I’m gonna…’ His words start to fade, but you know what he’s saying. His strength is going fast, Joel letting go and passing on, but even still his body shook. He was scared. If there was a heaven, Joel was going, but he wasn’t sure about that.

“He says he loves Walker and JJ, he’s gonna watch over them in heaven”

That breaks Tommy, who lets the tears come now as he takes your hand too, squeezing it tight.

You look up at your lover. “I love you, Joel. I’m always gonna love you, always gonna remember you. It’s gonna be okay, I promise you. We’re gonna be alright, we’re doing okay. You can let go now. It’s okay to let go. There’s no one left you need to protect.. we’re safe.”

Even though he’s fading away Joel looks into your eyes. He can’t speak, his strength fading, but it’s all communicated through those eyes that say so much. One last time, he cups your cheek, and the hand that isn’t holding Tommy’s brushes over the cold fingers, feeling liquid and unstable again. There’s fear in his eyes, mixed with that tender love, but then something changes in him.

Joel looks forward, past you, Tommy and Ellie and onto something else, something more. He smiles. ‘I see her’

All his fear his gone, and his face is peaceful.

For the final time, a breeze rustles your hair, and Tommy and Ellie see it.

Joel is gone, and all you can do is sob into his couch.

When it finally subsides you feel numb. Ellie and Tommy have joined you on the floor, the three of you talking about the experience you shared together, something no one will ever believe.

“His last words were, ‘’I see her’....”

Tommy whispers Sarah’s name, and you nod.

“He’s with her now. He’s a peace. I know a better place is a cliche, but…” Ellie wipes her tears. “We all know how much he missed her.”

Everyone nods solemnly, and for a while, you stay there, talking about Joel, memories and his jokes and his cooking. It was nice to share this secret with other, and suddenly you felt less alone in it. They believed your stories of the ghost in your walls, and they liked hearing the knew things he told you. You liked learning more of his past.

Eventually, everyone had to get back to their families. You were alone, but you didn’t feel lovely. Something had shifted, a closeness to Ellie and Tommy that didn’t scare you the way human connection used to. Maybe you would go to the mess hall, see some movies. Your patrol partner was quiet, but nice. Tommy was still around, and Ellie and Dina decided to pack up their things and return, wanting JJ to have friends. It was going to be okay, and as the sun set on the day, somehow you felt it rise on your life. A new, beautiful world of opportunities for friendship and love was out there.

You stared in the mirror, butt naked, feeling strangely open and vulnerable despite being alone for the first time in months.

It all felt surreal, something that seemed impossible, that went against every logical explanation.

But when you took off the bandage on your hip to change it, there they were, clear as day. 4 crescent fingernail cuts deep into your skin, something that would scar forever.

No matter what happened, you’d always carry these with you, proof that Joel and your love for him was real.

I wrote this as a goodbye to thee Joel fandom after everything I'd been through and the abuse I've been given and the abuse i watched my friends, queer writers and POC get. I cried writing this ending.

Now i looks as if I'll be making my return to writing Joel! For my disability event, I'll be writing no outbreak x deaf reader, as a favor to a follower in an effort to promote inclusion in the fandom.

If you got as WET as I did this last episode watch TOMMYYYYYYY come read Everything Lost Will Be Recovered

If you want dark! joel x reader x darkish! tommy, check out as ill be reposting The Wrong Way on this new account, and making a few changes.

Even though this isn't an emotional goodbye this posting, I still love an appreciate all the love You've given me over the years <3 im grateful for all my friendships here.

#joel miller #Ghost Joel needs to come and comfort me rn #the last of us #s2e2 #Can’t wait for Tommy to kick some ass

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myhohastuff · 2 months ago

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Im in bed, sick as a bitch, AND BINGED READ THIS FIC!! My emotuibs are ALL OVER THE PLACE!

A beauty is what this is. A BEAUTy 🤍

Summary: Being raised by a survivalist father meant learning two things: endure at all costs, and trust no one. And you lived by those rules, even after he was gone, surviving alone in a world that never gave second chances. But enduring becomes far more complicated when a familiar face returns, burdened with a fierce young girl and a mission that was never meant to include you. When you're forced from the only home you’ve ever known, survival is no longer just about the next meal or the next breath—it’s about who you become when there’s no way back. You’ve spent years believing your father’s lessons—that needing people is a sign of weakness. But as the miles stretch on, as survival becomes more than just a fight for the next day, one truth becomes harder to ignore—you can’t live by your father’s rule of trusting no one anymore.

And one man makes following that rule damn near impossible.

Themes: Joel miller x reader slow burn romance, post-outbreak, grief, healing, angst & longing.

Warnings: canon-type violence, death, depictions of grief and trauma, age gap romance, suicide (referenced, not graphic), intimacy and eventual smut. 18+ only MDNI, but I can't control what you do so discretion is advised.

Other: reader is afab, long hair (enough to grab, put up in a ponytail) may be mentioned. no other physical characteristics. graphics do not reflect character description, only used for vibes. Follows Season 1 of The Last of Us. Blend of show and game canon. Picture Joel as you prefer, but I will be mentioning Pedro Pascal's brown eyes. No use of Y/N. In the beginning of the story, time hops are not canon.

mood boards: Bill's Daughter | The Road So Far | You & Joel | A Lonely Day | Her Peace

Prologue

Before: 5 Years Old

Before: 10 Years Old

Before: 15 Years Old

Before: 18 Years Old

Before: 20 Years Old

Before: 23 Years Old

Now: 25 Years Old

Chapter 1: Joel and Ellie

Chapter 2: Escape

Chapter 3: The Envelope

Chapter 4: Fungus Ain't That Smart

Chapter 5: Kansas City

Chapter 6: The Climb

Chapter 7: Turret

Chapter 8: Strangers

Chapter 9: Spotlight

Chapter 10: Into the Water

Chapter 11: The Suburbs

Chapter 12: Fight and Flight

Chapter 13: Breaking Point

Chapter 14: One Month Later

Chapter 15: Jackson

Chapter 16: Thresholds

Chapter 17: Thinking of You

Chapter 18: Betrayal

Chapter 19: On the Road Again

Chapter 20: The Basement

Chapter 21: David

Chapter 22: Capture

Chapter 23: Blood and Fire

Chapter 24: What Comes After

Chapter 25: Waterways

Chapter 26: What Was Lost and What Was Taken

Epilogue

Ever After

Four Years Later

more coming soon

Hey, you beautiful, amazing people.

I don’t even know where to start, but thank you. Seriously. From the bottom of my heart: to everyone who read, liked, reblogged, screamed in the tags, sent me messages, or just silently followed along—you made this story so much more than I ever imagined.

Every comment, every reaction, every little freak-out over a scene made my day (and honestly fueled me to keep going). The way you connected with this story, these characters—it means everything. Writing this was one thing, but experiencing it with all of you? That was the best part.

So, to everyone who stuck with me, whether from the beginning or just recently—thank you for being here. Thank you for caring. Thank you for making this so special.

I love you all. Truly.

#sick and emotional #the last of us #joel miller

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myhohastuff · 2 months ago

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Been MIA for aaaages, but this is my DREAM!

12 dancing princesses is my favourite and i never would have thought to put these two together 🥲

THE DANCING PRINCESS AND HER SELLSWORD

Pairings : pedro pascal (pero tovar) x genevieve!reader

Genre : f/m, AU : Use of Y/N for reader, last name is Lovelei, inspired by/based on Genevieve from Barbie : 12 Dancing Princesses, said to have hair, overwhelming amount of fluff, Pero being soft, slow burn romance? princess x bodyguard au

Synopsis : In where two mercenaries find themselves hired to guard 12 princesses.

Word Count : 23.6k (wow, my longest fic yet!)

Taglist : none yet

Moodboard :

-----

The massive gates of the Lovelei castle creaked open, revealing a path that led through neatly trimmed hedges, a long stone driveway that wound up toward the grandeur of the castle itself. The moment Pero Tovar and William Garin dismounted their horses, they were greeted by several attendants who guided them into the heart of the kingdom.

Pero’s eyes scanned the castle grounds with a professional sharpness; he had been to his fair share of noble homes, but the Lovelei estate seemed almost otherworldly in its splendor. Tall spires reached toward the heavens, and ornate banners fluttered in the wind, adorned with a symbol that only the most refined could recognize, the crest of House Lovelei. This was a kingdom of great importance.

William, ever the observant one, looked just as impressed, though he kept his usual reserved demeanor. “Quite the place.” He muttered to Pero.

“More than just a castle, it’s the home of royalty.” Pero replied quietly, his gaze never straying from their surroundings.

When they reached the castle's front steps, a servant dressed in fine silks greeted them with a deep bow. “Welcome to Lovelei Castle, sirs. His Majesty, King Randolph Lovelei, is expecting you.”

The men nodded in return, following the servant inside where the scent of fresh roses lingered in the air. The walls were lined with portraits of past kings, queens, and noble families, each framed in golden relief. Everything in the castle spoke of wealth, power, and history. Pero couldn't help but feel the weight of the moment. As they entered a large hall, they were ushered to a throne room where King Randolph Lovelei sat upon a grand golden throne, his crown a testament to his status. His regal figure was imposing, yet there was a warmth in his presence that made him approachable. His eyes, a piercing shade of gray, softened as he looked up at his new bodyguards, his lips curling into a welcoming smile.

“Ah, gentlemen, welcome to my kingdom.” King Randolph said with a voice that was deep and resonant, his tone carrying both authority and kindness. “It is an honor to have you here. Please, come forward.”

Pero and William both bowed, but it was the Spaniard who spoke first, ever the more direct of the two. “Your Majesty, it is a privilege to be in your presence. We are here to serve and protect, as you requested.”

King Randolph stood from his throne, his tall figure commanding the room. “I trust the journey was not too taxing?”

“Not at all.” William replied, his usual calmness punctuating his words. “The ride was long, but we’ve been on longer.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that. You’ll find the castle’s accommodations more than suitable for the both of you.” The king gestured to two ornate chairs nearby, allowing them to sit. “I understand you’re here to guard my daughters. Twelve of them, in fact.”

“Twelve?” Pero asked, his brow raising in surprise as he glanced toward William. He had heard of large families, but twelve daughters? That was something he hadn’t expected.

King Randolph chuckled at their expressions. “Yes, twelve. Not all are here today, mind you. But each one has their own strengths and personality. It’s a challenge, but one I take great pride in.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “As you might imagine, it’s not easy keeping them all safe, especially with the number of suitors and... shall we say, unsavory individuals who tend to seek their attention.”

William nodded, his serious gaze shifting slightly as he processed the situation. “It must be an interesting dynamic, with so many daughters.”

“The word 'interesting' is an understatement.” King Randolph said with a hint of laughter in his voice. “Each of them is as different as the next. Some are quiet and reserved, others are bold and adventurous. Some prefer the peace of the garden; others, the thrill of a sword fight. You’ll need to be prepared for anything.”

Pero leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. “It sounds like quite the task, Your Majesty. But if there’s one thing we do well, it’s managing challenges.”

“You’ll find my daughters are not easily impressed.” The king warned, though his smile never wavered. “But they are loyal and fiercely protective of each other. The job will be no less difficult than it is rewarding.”

“Understood, Your Majesty.” Pero said with a firm nod. “We’ll do our duty to ensure their safety.”

“But there is one thing you should know.” King Randolph continued, his voice softening slightly as if imparting something important. “While they are capable in their own right, some are also... young. The world outside these walls is dangerous, and I trust you will be there for them, not just as protectors but as mentors. They’ll need guidance and protection..”

“We’ll make sure to keep her safe, Your Majesty.” The Spaniard assured him, his tone serious and firm. "All of them."

The king nodded, a satisfied smile on his face. “Good. I trust you both will be up to the task. You’ll find your rooms prepared. Take the evening to settle in. Tomorrow, we’ll have a feast in your honor, and you’ll meet my daughters in person.”

As Pero and William stood to leave, Pero’s thoughts lingered on their new jobs as bodyguards to 12 royal princesses. After all, protecting royalty was never as simple as it seemed, especially when that royalty had a mind of her own. And as they made their way down the grand corridors, the Spaniard felt a sense of anticipation stir within him.

This was only the beginning.

-----

The next morning, the sun shone brightly over the Lovelei castle, casting a golden glow across its vast gardens. The air carried the scent of fresh roses and lavender, a soft breeze rustling the leaves of the grand oaks that lined the pathways. Birds chirped cheerfully, and in the distance, the faint laughter of young women filled the air.

King Randolph stood at the castle’s entrance, awaiting Pero Tovar and William Garin as they approached. Dressed in their usual travel-worn attire, the two men carried themselves with their usual guarded confidence. Pero, ever the skeptic, had spent the morning wondering what exactly they had signed up for. William, more composed, was simply taking things as they came.

“Good morning, gentlemen.” The king kindly greeted, his deep voice warm. “I trust you slept well?”

“Well enough.” William answered politely.

Pero gave a short nod. “No complaints.”

“Good.” The king said with a small chuckle. “You will need your energy. Today, you will meet my daughters.”

At that, Pero shot William a glance. Though they had been warned about the number the night before, the reality of it still hadn’t quite sunk in. Twelve princesses. Twelve young noblewomen who, if they were anything like the highborn ladies Pero had encountered before, would be more trouble than any army. The Spaniard was no stranger to difficult jobs, to the presence of royals and their delicate ways, but he had never been tasked with protecting twelve princesses at once. Twelve. He glanced at William Garin, who stood beside him with his usual stoic expression, arms crossed over his chest.

"This is madness." Pero muttered under his breath. "How are we supposed to guard twelve of them?"

William merely smirked. "You wanted a job that pays well, didn’t you?"

Pero grunted, adjusting the belt of his sword. He had fought off hordes of enemies in his lifetime, bandits, mercenaries, soldiers, even monstrous creatures, but the idea of keeping twelve noblewomen out of trouble seemed an even greater challenge.

“Come.” The king said, gesturing for them to follow. “They are in the gardens.”

The three men walked through the grand hallways of the castle, down spiral staircases, past sunlit corridors, and through tall double doors that led outside. The castle gardens stretched far beyond what Pero and William had imagined, lush green lawns, carefully sculpted hedges, and a massive stone fountain in the center. Vibrant flowers in every shade of pink, purple, and gold bloomed along the pathways. It was a place of beauty, untouched by war, unspoiled by the world outside.

The duo mercenaries barely had a moment to take in the scenery before they spotted them, the princesses.

Scattered throughout the garden, a group of young women, each dressed in elegant yet light gowns, were engaged in various activities. Some sat beneath the shade of the trees, reading books. Others picked flowers, weaving them into delicate crowns. A few played sports as they competitively tried to win over one another. One girl with auburn curls was perched atop the fountain’s edge, kicking her feet idly in the water while humming a soft tune. Another, a brunette with an inquisitive gaze, was deeply focused on a chessboard set on a marble table.

And then, in the center of it all, was her.

Princess Y/N Lovelei.

Pero didn’t know who she was at first, at least, not until he noticed how the other girls seemed to follow her lead, how they gravitated toward her even as they went about their activities. She was different from the rest, somehow. Her long hair, intricately braided with dark pink ribbons, shimmered in the sunlight. Her gentle soft eyes held a quiet confidence, an unspoken strength. She was dressed in a flowing pink and white gown, elegant yet practical for movement. And at that moment, she was moving.

Dancing.

With effortless grace, the eldest princess twirled across the garden’s stone path, her steps light as air, her gown flowing with each spin. Every movement was precise, calculated, and yet utterly free. She wasn’t performing for an audience; she was lost in the music of the moment, in the joy of simply moving. The way she carried herself, the effortless elegance in each movement, was enough to hold anyone’s gaze. But Pero saw more than beauty, he saw precision, control, and discipline.

As if sensing their presence, the princess stopped mid-spin, her sweet gentle eyes locking onto the newest arrivals at the garden with an assessing gaze. “Father!” She called, her voice light and warm. She quickly made her way over, her steps quick but graceful. The other princesses, noticing her approach, turned their attention toward the new arrivals as well, whispering amongst themselves.

King Randolph extended a hand toward Pero and William. “My daughters, come meet your new bodyguards.”

Y/N stopped in front of them first, her gaze immediately locking onto the mercenaries. She tilted her head slightly, studying them with an appraising look before offering a polite curtsy. “You must be the new bodyguards. It is a pleasure to meet both of you. I hope our kingdom is to your liking.” She said, a teasing lilt in her voice. By now, the rest of the princesses had gathered around. They ranged in ages and temperaments, each one bringing a unique energy to the group.

King Randolph took a step forward. “Girls, these are Pero Tovar and William Garin. They are highly skilled warriors and have agreed to serve as your protectors.”

A blonde girl, probably one of the youngest, peered up at Pero with curious gentle eyes. “Are you a knight?”

“No.” Pero replied bluntly. “I’m a soldier.”

The girl blinked, then turned to her eldest whisper before cupping her hands on the sides of her mouth to whisper to her. “I like him. He’s honest.”

The eldest princess laughed softly before returning her attention to Pero. “I hope you’re ready for a challenge.”

Pero raised a brow. “I was about to say the same to you.”

The air between them crackled with something unspoken, curiosity, intrigue, perhaps even the first sparks of a battle neither had yet realized they were about to fight. King Randolph, pleased by the interaction, clapped his hands together. “Good. Now that you’ve all been introduced, I’ll leave you to get acquainted. Pero, William, do try to keep up. These girls are not as fragile as they seem.”

With that, the king strode away, leaving the two men standing among a sea of princesses, each one more unpredictable than the last.

Pero exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “Twelve daughters.” He muttered under his breath.

William smirked. “Told you it’d be interesting.”

Princess Y/N grinned. “Welcome to our world, gentlemen.”

And with that, the real challenge began.

-----

The gardens of Castle Lovelei were a sight to behold, sprawling fields of roses, lavender, and lilies stretching out under the warm afternoon sun. Ivy climbed along the stone archways, weaving between marble statues of noble ancestors long past. The air carried the fragrance of blooming flowers, mixed with the gentle spray of water from the great fountain in the center.

Pero Tovar stood at the edge of the garden, arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the area. William Garin stood beside him, leaning against a tree with his usual calm demeanor, his gaze flickering over the twelve princesses scattered about.

The younger ones giggled as they played a game of tag through the flowerbeds. The older ones sat in the shaded pavilion, chattering and laughing over tea. But it was Princess Y/N who caught Pero’s attention. Again.

She was by the fountain, completely unaware of his gaze.

With the lightest of steps, she moved in a slow, graceful ballet, her dark pink gown flowing around her like water. Her hair, braided neatly with ribbons, swayed as she twirled, her gentle eyes focused ahead, lost in a world of her own.

Pero wasn’t one to appreciate dance, but something about the way she moved was different. There was precision in her steps, control in the way she lifted herself onto her toes, then landed without a sound. It was like watching a battle fought without swords, a display of power hidden beneath elegance.

At her feet, three of her youngest sisters, the triplets, watched in awe. Dressed in matching pastel gowns, they attempted to copy their eldest sister’s movements, their small feet stumbling as they tried to twirl like her.

"Like this!" One of them chirped, lifting her arms in an arch above her head.

"No, no! She bends her knees first before spinning!" Another triplet corrected.

Y/N paused mid-step, turning to watch them with a fond smile. She knelt, adjusting one of their postures, guiding them with a gentle hand. "You're close." She encouraged them. "But don’t rush the movement. Feel the rhythm, like the wind moving through the trees."

The girls nodded eagerly, their tiny faces filled with determination as they tried again.

Pero exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.

"What's wrong?" William asked, following his gaze.

"She’s too free-spirited." Pero muttered. "Dancing in the open like that, she doesn’t even think about the dangers."

William chuckled. "You see a threat everywhere, my friend. She’s just enjoying herself."

Pero grunted but didn’t look away. His job was to guard them, but why did his eyes keep returning to Y/N alone?

She turned then, catching his gaze.

For a moment, neither of them looked away. Her lips curled slightly, as if she knew he had been watching all along. Then, in a movement as effortless as the breeze, she extended her hand toward him in invitation.

"Would you like to dance, Master Tovar?"

Pero’s brows shot up. "What?"

William laughed, slapping him on the shoulder. "Go on. Show us your skill."

Pero scoffed. "I don’t dance."

The eldest princess tilted her head, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I can teach you."

Pero narrowed his eyes. "I’d rather fight a hundred men than let you teach me to prance around like a fool."

Y/N only giggled, undeterred. "A shame. I think you’d be quite good at it."

Pero grumbled something in Spanish under his breath as she twirled away, returning to her dance. But even as he resumed his post, he found himself watching her again, unable to look away.

-----

The grand dining hall of Castle Lovelei glowed with the warmth of candlelight, the long table adorned with golden candelabras, polished silverware, and trays of decadent dishes. King Randolph Lovelei sat at the head of the table, his regal presence softened by the warm smile he reserved only for his daughters. One by one, the twelve princesses arrived, each greeting their father with a kiss on the cheek before taking their designated seats. The younger ones giggled as they settled in, while the older ones engaged in light conversation, the sound of their voices blending into a harmonious melody of familial affection.

Pero Tovar and William Garin stood near the entrance, keeping a watchful eye on the room, their hands resting instinctively near their weapons. Pero had been in noble courts before, but there was something different about Castle Lovelei. It was not just a place of power, it was a home, filled with warmth, laughter, and the gentle hum of a family’s love.

Yet, as the last of the princesses took her seat, a noticeable absence became clear.

Randolph Lovelei exhaled through his nose, amusement flickering in his deep-set eyes as he glanced toward the empty chair beside him, the one belonging to his eldest daughter.

"Y/N is late again." The king mused, though there was no anger in his tone. "No doubt caught up in her dancing."

The other princesses exchanged knowing glances, some stifling giggles as they’ve already expected this would happen again. Randolph then turned his gaze to Pero Tovar, who immediately stiffened under the weight of royal attention.

"Master Tovar." The king said kindly. "Would you be so kind as to fetch my eldest from the gardens? I fear she has once again lost herself in her ballet."

Pero barely held back a sigh. He had already suspected as much.

William smirked beside him, nudging him with an elbow. "Looks like you’re her official keeper now."

Pero shot him a glare before giving a curt nod to the king. "I’ll bring her in."

With that, he turned on his heel and made his way through the castle, following the now-familiar path to the gardens.

The night was cool, a gentle breeze rustling through the flowers, carrying the soft scent of roses and lavender. The stars shone brightly above, their light reflecting off the still waters of the great fountain.

And there, as expected, was Y/N Lovelei.

She stood on the stone path before the fountain, completely unaware of the passage of time. Her arms extended gracefully, her delicate fingers carving unseen patterns in the air. With each movement, her dark pink gown swayed, the fabric catching the moonlight.

Pero paused in the shadows, arms crossed, watching.

She truly was something else, fearless, free-spirited, and utterly lost in her own world. There was a discipline to her movements that reminded him of a well-trained warrior, yet there was also a softness, a lightness that made it seem as though she was floating rather than dancing.

Finally, he let out a sharp breath. "Princesa."

Y/N startled mid-spin, nearly losing her footing before steadying herself. Her wide, violet-blue eyes turned to him, blinking in surprise. Then, as if realizing the situation, a sheepish smile played on her lips.

"Oh…" She said lightly, brushing stray strands of hair from her face. "Let me guess. I’m late again?"

Pero narrowed his eyes. "Your father sent me to drag you inside before you starve at your own dinner table."

Y/N laughed softly, not at all fazed by his gruff tone. "I suppose I did lose track of time." She bent down to adjust the ribbons on her slippers, then rose to her full height, dusting off her gown. "But in my defense." She continued playfully, "I was in the middle of something important."

"Important?" Pero scoffed. "Prancing around in the dark?"

The eldest princess gasped, feigning offense. "It’s not prancing! It’s a highly skilled and disciplined art, Master Tovar." She placed a hand over her heart dramatically. "You wound me with your words."

Pero grumbled under his breath. "Enough of this nonsense. Let’s go." He turned on his heel, expecting her to follow. But after a few steps, he realized she wasn’t moving. He glanced over his shoulder, his brow furrowing. "Princesa…"

Princess Y/N was still standing by the fountain, her hands clasped behind her back, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I’ll come," she said. "But on one condition."

Pero sighed, already regretting asking. "What?"

The eldest Lovelei princess tilted her head, her hair shimmering under the moonlight. "Dance with me first."

Pero groaned. "Not this again."

She grinned. "Just one turn. And then I promise I’ll go inside like a proper princess."

The Spaniard crossed his arms, staring her down with a raised eyebrow. "I don’t dance."

Y/N took a step closer, amusement dancing in her gaze as she doesn’t feel threatened at all under his scrutinizing glare. "That’s exactly why you should try."

Pero let out a long, frustrated sigh. He could think of a hundred better things to be doing right now, patrolling the castle walls, sharpening his sword, even sparring with William or indulging himself with the lavish meals served for dinner, but the way she looked at him, so full of mischief and challenge, made it hard to say no.

Finally, with an exasperated shake of his head, he muttered. "One turn."

The princess beamed. "I knew you had it in you."

She stepped closer, gently taking his calloused hand in her own. He stiffened slightly at the contact, unaccustomed to such softness.

"Just follow my lead," she whispered.

And, for the first time in his life, Pero Tovar danced.

And couldn’t help but feel like a fool.

His boots were too heavy, his stance too rigid, and the very idea of twirling about in the moonlight felt utterly ridiculous. He was a warrior, not some courtly noble trained in the ways of elegant dancing. And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of the garden, his hand clasped in the princess’ as she guided him through a slow, graceful waltz.

"Relax." Princess Y/N said, her voice light and teasing. "Dancing is about feeling the rhythm, not overthinking it."

Pero scoffed, his expression skeptical. "I’m not overthinking. I just don’t do this."

Y/N only smiled. "You are now." She took the lead effortlessly, her steps precise and fluid as she coaxed him into movement. At first, Pero’s footing was clumsy, his grip on her hand hesitant, but she was patient. She moved with such ease, like a leaf drifting on the wind, and somehow, without even realizing it, he found himself adjusting to match her pace.

Their movements became smoother, more synchronized.

The Spaniard caught on to the rhythm of their steps, the gentle forward and backward sway, the subtle shifting of weight, the way the princess’ gown swirled around her ankles like liquid silk. And then, without thinking, he did something that surprised even himself.

He twirled her.

The princess gasped softly, caught off guard yet delighted. Her skirts flared out as she spun beneath the moonlight, the glow casting silver highlights in her braids. When she returned to face him, her deep gentle eyes shimmered with excitement. "Well done, Master Tovar." She said breathlessly.

Pero huffed, a hint of smugness creeping into his smirk. "Lucky guess."

Y/N laughed. "Try it again."

This time, he didn’t hesitate. He led her into another twirl, then another, growing more confident in his steps. His grip on her waist steadied, his movements becoming less rigid and more natural. The warrior in him understood balance, control, and precision, dancing, he realized, was not so different from battle. It was about timing, trust, and instinct.

And Princess Y/N? She was a perfect dance partner.

She guided him without force, allowing him to take control when he was ready. Their laughter mixed with the soft rustling of the trees, their breath visible in the cool night air. The entire world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them moving in effortless harmony beneath the stars.

Pero had never felt this before, this lightness, this strange, unexpected joy. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t thinking about war or duty or survival. He wasn’t worrying about guarding a castle or keeping reckless princesses out of trouble. He was simply dancing. And, somehow, that was enough.

As their waltz came to a natural end, Y/N looked up at him, her cheeks flushed, her smile radiant. "You’re not bad at this, you know." She murmured.

Pero chuckled, shaking his head. "Don’t tell Garin. He’ll never let me live it down."

The princess giggled, squeezing his hand once before stepping back. "Your secret is safe with me, Master Tovar."

The Spaniard cleared his throat, suddenly aware of how close they had been standing. The warmth of her hand still lingered against his own, and the way she gazed at him, soft yet full of mischief, made something stir in his chest.

But before he could dwell on it, she took his arm with a playful tug. "Come now." She said, leading him toward the castle. "If we don’t return soon, my father will send the entire guard to retrieve me."

Pero exhaled through his nose, falling into step beside her.

As they made their way back to the grand halls of Castle Lovelei, Pero realized something with a quiet sense of amusement.

He wouldn’t mind dancing with her again.

Not one bit.

-----

Later that evening, after dinner had settled and the castle had quieted into a peaceful lull, Pero Tovar and William Garin began their routine patrol around the palace grounds. The halls of Castle Lovelei were grand and lined with torches that flickered in the night, casting long shadows across the walls. The two warriors moved through the corridors with the ease of men accustomed to watching over something precious, their footsteps steady, their senses sharp.

But tonight, something was different.

As they walked past the vast gardens, the same place where Pero had danced with the eldest princess, William Garin’s ears caught something unusual.

Humming.

Not just any humming, but the same melody Princess Y/N Lovelei had been dancing ballet to earlier by the fountains.

And the culprit?

Pero Tovar.

William slowed his steps, turning his head slightly, just to make sure he wasn’t hearing things. But no, there it was again. The deep, gravelly hum of his oldest companion, following the exact tune that the eldest princess had so gracefully moved to. A slow grin spread across William’s face. “Well, well.” The Irishman drawled, crossing his arms over his chest as he stopped in his tracks. “I never thought I’d see the day Pero Tovar hums a melody fit for a ballroom.”

Pero instantly cut off the tune, his expression hardening into a scowl. He kept walking, his shoulders stiffening as if that would somehow dismiss the moment. “You’re hearing things.”

William scoffed, falling into step beside him. “No, no, I’m quite sure I heard correctly. In fact.” He tilted his head playfully. “Wasn’t that the very song Princess Y/N danced to earlier today? The one you so eagerly watched?”

Pero exhaled sharply through his nose. “You talk too much, Garin.”

William smirked, ever the relentless one when he sensed something worth teasing. “Oh, but this is interesting. Here I thought you had no patience for the delicate ways of the court, and yet I find you not only humming a ballet tune but also escorting a certain princess back to dinner after what I suspect was a rather private moment in the gardens.”

Pero grumbled something under his breath and picked up his pace. William only laughed, keeping up effortlessly. “So tell me, did she teach you a few steps?” The Irishman nudged him playfully. “Did you spin her beneath the moonlight like one of those fairy tales?”

Pero stopped walking altogether and shot William a glare that might have made a lesser man flinch. “Drop it.”

But William had been his friend for far too long to be intimidated by Pero’s temper. If anything, it only amused him further. “Oh, come on now. There’s no shame in it. Princess Y/N is a remarkable woman, beautiful, graceful, and kind. I imagine any man would be drawn to her.” He gave Pero a knowing glance. “Even a gruff, battle-worn soldier like yourself.”

Pero clenched his jaw. “She is a princess. I am her guard. That is all.”

William raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

Pero said nothing, only resuming his patrol with an irritated huff.

William, ever the persistent one, let the silence stretch for a few moments before finally sighing. “Fine, I’ll drop it.” Then, just as Pero was beginning to relax, he added. “For now.”

Pero groaned, running a hand down his face as William chuckled beside him.

The teasing would not end anytime soon.

And worse?

For the rest of their patrol, the tune of Princess Y/N’s ballet refused to leave Pero’s mind.

-----

The sun cast its golden glow over Castle Lovelei, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange. Inside the princesses’ chambers, the morning routine was already in full swing, brushes smoothing through golden and chestnut locks, corsets being fastened, and laughter echoing through the grand dressing room. Princess Y/N Lovelei stood before her mirror, humming softly as she combed through her hair, a dreamy smile curving her lips. Her movements were slower than usual, almost as if she were lost in a memory, one that made her heart flutter and her cheeks warm.

And her sisters noticed.

It started with Ashlyn, the second eldest and the most observant among them. She set down her perfume bottle and raised a brow at Y/N’s expression. “You look… different this morning, dear sister.” She mused.

Lacey, one of the younger triplets, perked up from across the room, tying a ribbon in her hair. “Oh! She does! Look at that smile! Like she’s dreaming of something sweet.”

“Or someone.” Hadley added with a teasing grin.

Soon, the entire room erupted in giggles as all eleven princesses turned to their eldest sister with knowing smirks.

Y/N blinked, her humming ceasing as she looked around in confusion. “What?”

“Oh, nothing.” Janessa drawled dramatically. “Only that you seem to be positively glowing this morning.”

“You never wake up looking this happy.” Kathleen pointed out, crossing her arms. “You’re usually groaning about how you wish you could sleep in longer.”

“Or sneaking in a few last-minute dance steps before breakfast.” Courtney added.

Kathleen, one of the younger sisters, gasped suddenly, her eyes widening in realization. “Wait a moment… Could it be?”

“It must be!” Delia giggled.

“Oh, don’t keep us waiting, dear sister.” Edeline chimed in, her emerald eyes glinting with mischief. “Tell us, who is he?”

Y/N’s face turned an unmistakable shade of pink as she turned back toward her mirror, trying (and failing) to compose herself. “I…There is no ‘he.’ I don’t know what you’re all talking about.” But her sisters weren’t convinced.

“Aha! That means there is someone!” Blair grinned triumphantly.

“Who is the lucky man?” Delia pressed, inching closer. “Is he from the court? A noble?”

“Maybe one of the knights?” Fallon suggested.

“Or perhaps…” Courtney trailed off dramatically before whispering, “One of our new bodyguards?”

That made the eldest princess freeze. Her grip on her comb tightened, her heart skipping a beat. The moment of hesitation did not go unnoticed. A collective gasp filled the room as the sisters exchanged wide-eyed looks. “It is one of the bodyguards!” Lacey squealed.

Y/N turned around quickly, feeling her face now getting warm. “Alright, that’s enough teasing!” But her reaction only confirmed their suspicions.

“Oh, sister, this is so exciting!” Edeline clapped her hands together.

“So, who is it?” Courtney demanded. “Sir Garin or Sir Tovar?”

The eldest Lovelei daughter felt the heat crawl up her neck as she sputtered, “I…I…”

“Sir Tovar.” Ashlyn answered knowingly, smirking at the way their sister was beginning to panic. The sisters burst into another round of delighted giggles.

“Oh, Y/N!” Isla swooned. “A rugged, brooding warrior? How romantic!”

“A mercenary at that,” Fallon added, feigning shock. “A forbidden love story in the making!”

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands as her sisters giggled and squealed around her.

Little did they know, outside the chamber door, Pero Tovar had been passing through the hall when he caught the unmistakable sound of their playful shrieks. He paused briefly, raising a suspicious brow. Something told him the princesses were up to something. And if his name was being tossed around in the midst of it… he wasn’t sure if he should be concerned or amused. With a shake of his head, he muttered under his breath and continued walking.

Whatever it was, he had a feeling he would find out soon enough.

The grand dining hall of Castle Lovelei was already filled with the warm scent of freshly baked bread, sweet honeyed fruit, and the rich aroma of roasted meats. Golden sunlight streamed through the towering windows, casting a soft glow upon the long, polished dining table where King Randolph Lovelei sat, waiting for his daughters to join him.

The sound of light footsteps and soft giggles filled the corridor leading to the hall as the twelve princesses, adorned in their morning gowns, made their way inside.

Princess Y/N Lovelei walked ahead of her sisters, her heart still fluttering from the morning's relentless teasing. She had managed to escape the conversation after much protest, but their knowing smirks and side glances had not wavered in the slightest.

As they neared the grand doors to the dining hall, two familiar figures stood at their posts, Sir William Garin and Sir Pero Tovar. The two bodyguards, ever vigilant, stood with their arms crossed, their eyes sweeping across the corridor before falling upon the approaching princesses. The moment the eldest princess spotted them, her face instantly brightened. Her lips curved into a warm, radiant smile as she turned her attention to Pero.

“Good morning, Sir Tovar, Sir Garin!” She greeted cheerfully, her voice carrying the same musical lilt as the song she had been humming earlier.

Pero Tovar, who had been idly adjusting the leather bracer on his arm, turned at the sound of her voice. His dark eyes met hers, and for a brief moment, something flickered in them, something unreadable, something soft. William Garin, on the other hand, immediately noticed the way Y/N’s eyes lingered just a little longer on Pero, and more importantly, the way Pero’s usually gruff expression faltered for half a second before he straightened his stance.

“Good morning, Princess.” The Irishman greeted smoothly, biting back a smirk as he nudged Pero lightly with his elbow. “Isn’t that right, Pero?”

Pero exhaled sharply, side-eyeing his friend before nodding stiffly. “Buenos días, Princesas.”

The simplicity of his response would have been nothing out of the ordinary, except for the fact that his deep voice was not as gruff as usual. It lacked the usual irritation or disinterest he often carried when dealing with royalty.

And Princess Y/N noticed. Her smile widened, her eyes twinkling with something akin to amusement and curiosity. Unfortunately for her, her sisters noticed everything as well.

“Oh my, dear sister.” Ashlyn whispered dramatically, loud enough for only their sisters to hear. “What a bright smile you have this morning.”

“Yes, and look at how happy she is to greet them.” Lacey added with a mischievous giggle.

“How very interesting,” Edeline mused, feigning deep thought.

The eldest princess’ cheeks tinged pink, but she refused to let her sisters get to her again. Instead, she simply turned on her heel and lifted her chin, attempting to walk past them with grace and dignity. But just as she stepped forward, Hadley suddenly whispered, “I wonder if Sir Tovar caught her love-struck humming earlier…”

The usually graceful and careful princess Y/n then stumbled in her steps. She quickly regained her footing, but not before a few of her younger sisters gasped and stifled their giggles behind their hands.

Pero, who had been silently watching, furrowed his brows slightly. “Are you alright, Princesa?”

“I’m fine!” Y/N answered quickly, a little too quickly.

Pero raised a brow at her, clearly unconvinced.

William Garin, meanwhile, was thoroughly enjoying this entire exchange. He smirked knowingly, crossing his arms as he leaned slightly toward Pero. “You must be more careful, Pero. Seems you’re making the princess quite flustered this morning.” The Spaniard’s eyes darkened in warning as he turned his head toward Garin, who merely chuckled in response.

Y/N, deciding that she had suffered enough teasing for the morning, hurriedly walked past the guards and entered the dining hall. Her sisters followed close behind, barely containing their laughter. As they reached the dining table, King Randolph Lovelei greeted them with a warm smile, extending his arms as each of his daughters approached to kiss his cheek before taking their respective seats. But as the eldest princess sat down, her heart still raced from the lingering moment outside. She could still feel Pero’s gaze, steady, searching, unreadable.

And when she dared to glance back toward the grand doors, she found that he was still looking her way.

This time, it was his turn to smirk.

-----

The dining hall of Castle Lovelei buzzed with energy as the twelve princesses enjoyed their breakfast, the warmth of the morning sun filtering through the tall windows. The clinking of silverware and the soft murmur of conversation filled the air, but it wasn’t long before King Randolph Lovelei cleared his throat, drawing the attention of his daughters.

“My dear girls.” He began, his deep and regal voice carrying a warmth that made the princesses look up from their plates. “As you all know, Y/N’s birthday is approaching, and I intend for it to be a truly grand affair, one that will be remembered throughout the kingdom.”

At his words, the eldest princess nearly choked on her tea. She quickly set down her cup, dabbing at her lips with a napkin as her sisters gasped excitedly.

“Oh, Father, it must be the most extravagant ball in all the land!” Ashlyn declared, her hazel eyes sparkling. “Y/N is our eldest sister! She deserves the finest celebration!��

“I agree!” Blair added eagerly. “We must have the grandest banquet, with delicacies from all over the kingdom.”

“And music! A full orchestra, with the finest musicians from the royal court.” Edeline chimed in.

Lacey clapped her hands together. “We should have a breathtaking ballroom theme, something enchanting, like a moonlit garden!”

“Oh, and fireworks!” Hadley and Isla said in unison, their identical faces lighting up.

“Fireworks inside the ballroom?” Y/N asked, raising a brow in amusement and looking at her overly excited sisters.

The twins blinked before shaking their heads. “No, no! Outside, of course,” Hadley corrected. “Just as the clock strikes midnight!”

“And what of the royal guests?” Delia leaned forward, smirking. “Surely, Father, you plan on inviting all the noble families from neighboring kingdoms?”

Randolph chuckled, stroking his beard. “Indeed, I do. It shall be a grand gathering, kings, queens, dukes, duchesses, and their heirs.” His gaze softened as he turned to his eldest daughter. “All coming to celebrate you, my dear.”

Princess Y/N smiled, her heart warmed by her father’s love and her sisters’ enthusiasm. “That all sounds wonderful, truly. But…” She hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup. “...it does seem a bit much, does it not?”

Her sisters gasped dramatically.

“A bit much?” Fallon repeated. “Dear sister, this is your birthday! It should be the most magnificent ball of the year!”

“Yes, but I do not need all these extravagant things to enjoy myself.” Y/N said with a soft laugh. “I would be perfectly content dancing the night away with my family and dear friends.”

“That is precisely why it must be perfect!” Courtney, ever the perfectionist, insisted. “Your love for dancing is exactly why this celebration should reflect all that you hold dear.”

Randolph smiled, amused by his daughters’ passionate planning. “Then it is settled. We shall have a magnificent ball, one filled with music, dancing, and all the wonders you could ever dream of, my dear.”

The woman in question merely sighed, but her smile never faded. She knew there was no use in arguing, her sisters were far too invested now. “Very well.” She finally relented. “But please, do not let the preparations become a burden on anyone.”

“Nonsense!” Lacey giggled. “We love planning these things!”

As the princesses continued their discussion, Y/N took a sip of her tea, letting her mind wander for a moment. A grand ball, filled with noble suitors and dignitaries. The thought should have excited her. And yet…Her gaze drifted ever so slightly toward the great hall’s entrance, where Sir Pero Tovar and Sir William Garin remained stationed at their posts.

Unbeknownst to her, the Spaniard had been watching, silently listening to every word spoken.

A birthday ball.

A night filled with dancing.

He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. Dancing again, he thought.

And yet, despite himself, he found his mind betraying him, drifting back to the night before, to the feel of Y/N’s hand in his, the way her laughter had melted away the stiffness in his movements, the way she had twirled effortlessly beneath the moonlight.

Pero clenched his jaw.

He was a soldier. A protector.

Not a dancer.

And certainly not a suitor.

But as the eldest princess’ laughter rang through the hall, as bright as the morning sun, he found himself gripping the hilt of his sword just a little tighter.

-----

The afternoon sun bathed Castle Lovelei’s gardens in golden warmth, the soft rustling of leaves and the occasional chirping of birds blending into a peaceful symphony. The twelve princesses had once again gathered in their favorite outdoor haven, each engaging in her respective hobbies.

The youngest triplet princesses, Janessa, Kathleen and Lacey, were busy roaming the gardens in search for more bugs to add to their collection. The identical twin princesses, Hadley and Isla, were busy giggling to themselves as they circled around the gardens and balancing themselves on their stilts. The other set of older twin princesses, Delia and Edeline, have taken it upon themselves to continue their game of croquet from yesterday. Princess Blair, the third oldest, was not in the gardens and took it upon herself to visit the stables again to see the horses and help the stableboys tend to them. The fourth daughter, Princess Courtney, has taken her usual place underneath the shade of an oak tree with a new book in her hands and is now fully immersed in her brand new story. Then there was Princess Ashlynn and Princess Fallon, the second and seventh daughter, were conversing and having some tea with each other.

In the midst of all the harmonious scenes, Princess Y/N once again found herself by the grand marble fountains, her slippered feet gliding effortlessly across the stone path as she practiced her new ballet routine. She spun, leaped, and twirled, her long braided hair following her movements like a ribbon caught in the wind. Her heart soared with every graceful step, her mind completely lost in the dance.

That was until…

Rustle.

Y/N’s movements faltered as she caught the faint sound of shifting leaves from the nearby hedges. Her deep blue-violet eyes flickered toward the source of the noise.

Another rustle.

She turned her head, curiosity piqued. Carefully, she stepped toward the thick, well-manicured bushes lining the stone pathway. With delicate fingers, she parted the leaves, peering beyond the greenery. And the sight instantly made her breath hitch. There, nestled between the bushes, was a tiny orange kitten with scruffy, unkempt fur. Its small, fluffy body trembled slightly, and when its big, round amber eyes met hers, it let out a pitiful little meow.

“Oh…” Y/N’s heart clenched at the sight. The poor thing was injured, one of its front paws was curled up, refusing to touch the ground. Gently, she knelt down and carefully extended a hand. “Oh, you poor little dear.” She cooed softly. “Where did you come from?”

The kitten blinked up at her before hesitantly taking a step forward, but it immediately stumbled, letting out another weak mew.

Y/N’s brows knitted together in concern. Without hesitation, she carefully scooped the tiny creature into her arms, cradling it close.

The poor kitten flinched at first but soon melted into her embrace, pressing its tiny face against the soft fabric of her dress.

The princess merely smiled fondly. “There, there… You’re safe now.” She turned back toward the gardens, scanning for her sisters. “Ashlynn! Fallon!” She called out towards two of her younger sisters nearby the fountain.

Her sisters immediately turned their heads. “What is it?” Ashlynn asked, setting aside the teacup she was sipping on.

The eldest princess strode toward them, carefully holding out the injured kitten. “Look what I found.” She said. “The poor thing has a hurt paw.”

Fallon’s eyes widened, and Ashlynn let out a gasp. “Oh, the poor darling!” Ashlynn reached out to gently stroke the kitten’s head. “It looks so hungry, too.”

“Should we take it to the royal veterinarian?” Fallon suggested with a worried tone in her voice.

Before anyone could answer, another voice joined the conversation.

“I’d say it looks like trouble.” The deep, gruff voice of Pero Tovar startled the princesses as he stepped forward, arms crossed. His sharp eyes locked onto the tiny ball of fluff in Y/N’s arms.

“A stray cat?” He muttered, eyeing it warily. “Hmph. And here I thought you princesses only kept elegant creatures like white doves and purebred horses.”

Y/N frowned, hugging the kitten protectively. “Every creature, elegant or not, deserves kindness, Sir Pero.”

The Spaniard huffed, shaking his head. “I didn’t say otherwise. Just don’t let it claw your fancy dress to shreds.”

Ashlynn giggled behind her hand. “I think Sir Pero is scared of the little kitten.”

The princesses laughed, and Pero scowled. “I’m not scared of anything.” He grumbled. “I just know a stray animal can carry trouble.”

The eldest princess ignored his gruff attitude and turned to her sisters. “We need to find some food for it. And perhaps some warm milk.” She brightly smiled, her heart swelling with warmth as she looked down at the kitten. It was already purring against her, its tiny body trusting her completely.

Pero watched the scene unfold, exhaling heavily as he ran a hand down his face.

First, the princess had dragged him into dancing.

Now, she was bringing in wounded strays.

And for some reason, despite himself…

He found that he didn’t mind it.

-----

The little kitten was warm against Princess Y/N’s chest, its tiny body rising and falling with every peaceful breath. It was curled up comfortably in her arms, no longer trembling, though its injured paw remained limp. Every so often, it would let out a faint mew, as if reassuring her it was still there.

Pero Tovar walked beside her, his heavy boots crunching against the gravel path as they made their way toward the royal veterinarian’s quarters. His arms were crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable as he occasionally glanced at the little creature nestled against her. “You sure about this, princesa?” He finally grunted.

“Taking in a stray? It’s going to need care, training. Not just a warm lap to sleep on.”

Princess Y/N turned to him with a soft smile, her gentle eyes shining with determination. “Of course, I’m sure.” She said. “He needs me.”

Pero scoffed, shaking his head. “That’s a lot of responsibility for someone who already spends too much time twirling around fountains instead of minding the time.”

The princess merely giggled. “And yet you were twirling right alongside me just last night.”

His jaw tightened as she shot him a playful look. Pero let out a gruff sigh, muttering something under his breath as they reached the veterinarian’s door.

The princess gently knocks to make their presence known, and moments later, the door swung open to reveal the castle’s head veterinarian, a kind-faced woman named Lady Edith. Her wise, gentle eyes flickered towards the princess and then down to the small bundle in her arms.

“Oh, dear.” Lady Edith murmured, stepping aside. “Come in, quickly.”

Y/N entered with Pero following behind her with a watchful gaze. They gently laid the kitten on a small cushioned table as Lady Edith immediately got to work, inspecting the tiny creature’s injured paw. She hummed thoughtfully as she pressed along the limb, gauging the kitten’s reaction. The little thing let out a soft whimper but didn’t try to squirm away.

“It’s not broken.” Lady Edith reassured them. “Just sprained. Likely from a fall. A bandage and some rest will do the trick.”

The princess sighed in relief. “That’s wonderful news.”

Pero crossed his arms again. “And the rest of it?”

Lady Edith smiled as she carefully lifted the kitten and set it in a small wooden tub filled with warm water. The little creature flinched at first, but as soon as her gentle hands lathered its fur with a light soap, it let out a deep, satisfied purr. “He’s just a bit dirty and underfed,” The sweet old lady explained as she continued washing away the grime. “Nothing some proper food and care won’t fix.”

Y/N watched with fascination as the once scruffy orange kitten slowly transformed. His fur, now free of dirt, was revealed to be a stunning shade of golden-orange, soft and fluffy like a miniature lion’s mane. Once he was thoroughly cleaned and dried, Lady Edith wrapped his sprained paw with a small bandage and handed him back to the princess. The kitten eagerly curled up in her arms once again, letting out a content purr as if he had already chosen her as his new home. A bright smile stretched across her lips. “I think I shall name him Leon.”

Pero raised an eyebrow. “Leon?”

“Yes…” The princess nodded, gently stroking the kitten’s tiny head. “Because of his beautiful bright fur. He looks like a little lion.”

Lady Edith chuckled. “A fitting name.”

Pero huffed, giving the kitten another glance. “Hmph. More like a tiny nuisance.”

As if understanding the insult, Leon lifted his head, blinking up at Pero before letting out a tiny but determined mew.

Y/N laughed. “I think he disagrees with you, Sir Pero.”

Pero only rolled his eyes. “You’re just lucky he’s small.”

With Leon now clean, bandaged, and comfortably settled in the princess’ arms, she carefully took a small dish of warm milk that Lady Edith had prepared and held it out to him. The kitten immediately perked up, eagerly lapping at the liquid with tiny, enthusiastic flicks of his tongue. Watching the little creature drink so eagerly, Y/N felt warmth bloom in her heart. This tiny being had been hurt, alone, and afraid. But now, he was safe. And he had found a home with her.

Pero observed quietly, his rough exterior softening for just a fraction of a second. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a new shadow, princesa.” He muttered.

Y/N brightly beamed at him. “And I think he rather likes you, too.”

Pero snorted. “Doubt it.”

But as if to prove her point, Leon, now satisfied from his meal, curled up once more in her arms, his tiny head resting against her chest. Yet, his amber eyes flickered toward Pero, as if recognizing him as part of their little trio now. The eldest princess giggled, stroking Leon’s fur. “Welcome home, little one.”

And in that moment, with the setting sun casting golden light through the windows, she knew Leon had not only found a home.

He had found a family.

-----

The sun hung lazily in the afternoon sky, casting soft rays of gold that danced through the green leaves of the towering trees in Castle Lovelei’s grand gardens. The air was warm, and the fragrance of blooming flowers wafted through the grounds, mixing with the faint scent of the distant sea. Pero Tovar had wandered into the gardens, finding himself more and more drawn to the serene atmosphere as of late. With each step, he felt the tranquility of the place, but there was also a soft pull at his chest, a tug he couldn’t quite explain. It was the same pull that had brought him here today.

And there she was.

Princess Y/N.

She was at the fountains once again, the water glistening behind her like a crystal backdrop. Her delicate feet moved with precise elegance, the soft click of her shoes barely audible over the hum of the garden. She wore a soft pink and white gown today, and as she spun in place, the fabric fluttered around her like petals in the breeze. Her long hair, woven with dark pink bands, swirled around her, gleaming in the sunlight.

The Spaniard stood at the edge of the fountain, leaning slightly against the stone wall as his eyes followed her every movement. Beside him, Leon sat perched, his little orange form oddly still for such an energetic creature, his golden eyes locked on the princess with the same kind of focus that Pero felt creeping into his own chest.

The kitten let out a soft mew, causing Pero to glance down at him. “Even you’re captivated by her.” He muttered, his voice low as he crouched down, watching Leon’s tail flicker with interest. The kitten didn’t respond but continued to watch Y/N’s graceful movements, its head slightly tilting with curiosity.

Pero’s gaze returned to the princess. Her form was flawless, each movement an embodiment of grace and power. She was lost in her art, twirling and leaping as though the world around her had vanished. For a moment, it was just her and the dance, her body telling stories without words, the music only she could hear guiding her every step. He felt his heart tighten in his chest. He had watched her dance countless times before, but today, something about it felt different. Maybe it was the way the sun caught her hair, or the delicate way she moved with the rhythm of the world. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was witnessing something more than just a dance, it was an intimate piece of her soul laid bare for the world to see.

Leon’s mew broke Pero from his thoughts, and he glanced down at the kitten again. “I suppose you’re right. She’s... magnificent.” His words came out quietly, as if not wanting to disturb the beauty of the moment.

And then, the unthinkable happened.

As Y/N twirled, a soft breeze picked up, sending a few loose strands of hair flying into her face. Without missing a beat, she continued, her movements flowing in perfect harmony with the rhythm of the wind. Her eyes were closed, and for a fleeting moment, Pero could have sworn he saw a faint smile on her lips.

Her beauty and grace took his breath away, leaving him momentarily frozen in place. He had never seen someone so effortlessly breathtaking, so full of life and passion.

Leon, noticing his lack of attention, took it upon himself to nudge Pero’s arm, giving a little impatient mew, as if to say, “Don’t just stand there, watch her!”

Pero chuckled softly and gave the kitten a quick scratch behind the ears. “You’re right, little one.” He shook his head and smiled to himself.

As the princess continued to dance, she began to move closer to the edge of the fountain, where she caught sight of Pero and Leon. She slowed, her expression softening as she approached them, her feet landing lightly on the stone path. “Forgive me, I didn’t notice that you two were here.” She said with a playful glint in her eyes, her voice carrying the same melody as the dance itself.

The mercenary cleared his throat and stood up straight, trying to mask the slight flush creeping up his neck. “I…uh, I didn’t want to disturb you. But it seems Leon here couldn’t help himself. He’s quite the admirer of yours.” He nodded toward the kitten, who was now sitting proudly at his feet.

Princess Y/N laughed softly, bending down to give Leon a gentle pet. “I think it’s the other way around. You’ve been a loyal companion, haven’t you, Leon?” She smiled at the kitten, who responded with a satisfied purr.

Pero couldn’t help but notice the warmth in her eyes as she looked down at Leon. It wasn’t just affection, it was a quiet fondness, a bond between them that was as strong as any friendship or family tie.

“I must say, though.” Y/N continued, standing up and facing Pero with a graceful elegant turn. “You’ve been quite the silent observer, Pero. I didn’t expect you to appreciate ballet so much.”

He shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. “I…I’m not much for dancing.” He said, his voice rougher than usual. “But there’s something about watching you, Princesa... it’s... it’s mesmerizing.”

Y/N’s smile softened, and she nodded as though she understood. “It’s the music, isn’t it? The rhythm. Ballet isn’t just about movement, it’s about telling a story. It’s my way of communicating when words fail me.”

The Spaniard felt the weight of her words linger in the air, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. “You’ve never failed to communicate, Princesa.” He replied quietly, his gaze steady on her, his heart inexplicably drawn toward her.

The eldest princess tilted her head slightly, her expression thoughtful. “Thank you,Sir Pero.” She smiled softly and reached out to gently take Leon in her arms once again. “Perhaps one day, I’ll properly teach you a dance.”

A small, almost amused smile tugged at Pero’s lips. “I think I’ll leave that to the professionals.”

She laughed, her laughter like music itself, and with a small wink, she turned back to the fountain, the soft swish of her gown following her graceful movements.

Pero stood there for a moment longer, watching her as she resumed her practice. The day had grown late, and the sun began to dip beneath the horizon, casting the garden in a soft golden light. But he didn’t move, not yet. Instead, he let his eyes wander back to Y/N, the way she danced effortlessly beneath the sky, and felt the strange, undeniable pull in his chest once again.

-----

The grand dining hall of Castle Lovelei was illuminated by the golden glow of chandeliers, their flickering candlelight casting warm reflections against the polished marble floor. The long, regal dining table was adorned with luxurious silverware and delicately arranged floral centerpieces, their fragrance mingling with the rich aroma of the evening feast. King Randolph Lovelei sat at the head of the table, his expression content as he watched his twelve daughters enjoy their meal. Laughter and chatter filled the space, the princesses exchanging playful banter while their maids ensured their plates were never empty.

Princess Y/N sat among her sisters, her mind still lingering on the events of the afternoon, the soft melody of her ballet, the warmth of Leon in her arms, and the deep, unwavering gaze of Pero Tovar as he had watched her dance. Something about those moments made her heart feel light, free, untethered to the responsibilities of royal life.

But that moment of peace was shattered in an instant.

King Randolph, setting down his goblet of wine, cleared his throat and spoke in his deep, authoritative voice. “My daughters…” He began. “...with Y/N’s birthday drawing near, I have taken it upon myself to ensure it is a celebration worthy of her station. We shall have a grand ball, the finest the kingdom has seen in years. And, to mark this momentous occasion…” He paused, smiling at his eldest daughter. “I have invited noble princes and esteemed men from across the land to attend, so that they may have the honor of courting my eldest daughter.”

A beat of silence.

Then, excitement erupted around the table.

The younger princesses gasped and squealed in delight, whispering amongst themselves about which noblemen or prince would attend, what grand gifts they might bring, and whether any of them would be charming enough to win their eldest sister’s favor and even win her hand in marriage.

But Y/N herself…

She had frozen in place, her fingers slackening as the silver spoon slipped from her grasp, landing with a soft clatter against her porcelain plate. Her heart pounded, her throat tightened at the thought.

Marriage?

Her father was arranging suitors for her now?

She forced herself to swallow, her voice hesitant. “Father… you wish for me to…” She paused, steadying herself, “...to be courted? To be… betrothed?”

King Randolph chuckled, seemingly oblivious to the distress in her voice. “Of course, my dear. You are of age, and it is only right that we begin the search for a suitable husband.” He smiled warmly, but to Y/N, the words felt heavy. “This is an important duty as a princess. You will strengthen alliances, ensure the prosperity of our kingdom, and, in time, rule beside a man who will cherish and support you.”

Y/N’s fingers curled around the edge of the table, her pulse quickening. It wasn’t that she despised marriage, she knew it was an eventual expectation. But why now? Why so suddenly? And why did the thought of it feel so suffocating? As the excited voices of her sisters swirled around her, she found herself gripping her gown tightly beneath the table.

She wasn’t ready.

She wasn’t ready to give her heart to a stranger, to allow herself to be locked into a life she did not choose.

And as her mind reeled, her thoughts drifted, against her will, to a certain dark-haired soldier.

Pero Tovar.

The way he had held her hand when she had guided him into the waltz. The way his rough, battle-worn hands had been so hesitant, so unsure, and yet so strong. The way he had twirled her beneath the moonlight, catching her in his arms when she lost her balance. The way he had looked at her that afternoon in the gardens, his brown eyes watching her with something she couldn’t quite name, something unspoken, something that made her heart race.

And suddenly, the idea of standing in a grand ballroom, dancing with a stranger, some nobleman with a polished smile and rehearsed words, felt unbearably wrong. The weight of expectation pressed against her, and for the first time in her life, she did not know how to escape it. The voices around the table became distant, the light of the chandeliers too bright, the air too heavy.

And in that moment, Y/N Lovelei. the fearless, untamed princess who danced with the wind itself, felt trapped.

-----

The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the castle gardens, bathing the blooming flowers in warm light. Laughter and chatter filled the air as the princesses indulged in their usual pastimes, some painting, others reading, and a few engaging in playful games of tag on the grassy lawn. The scent of fresh roses mixed with the faint aroma of baked goods wafting from the castle kitchens, creating a serene, picturesque atmosphere.

Pero Tovar stood alongside William Garin, both men keeping a watchful eye on the twelve princesses as they moved about the gardens. It was a duty they had grown accustomed to, though William often took the task with far more ease, occasionally exchanging lighthearted comments about their privileged charge. Pero, however, was not as easily amused today. His eyes wandered toward the grand marble fountain at the heart of the garden, where the familiar sight of Y/N Lovelei should have been, twirling, leaping, lost in the rhythm of her own world.

But instead, the princess was merely sitting.

Still.

Silent.

Cradling the tiny orange kitten, Leon, in her arms, Y/N gazed downward, her expression distant. She absentmindedly stroked the kitten’s fur, but her usual lighthearted energy was gone. No laughter. No soft humming. No elegant movements that mesmerized him beyond reason.

That was unlike her.

A frown tugged at Pero’s lips as he took a step forward. William caught the motion and smirked knowingly, nudging him in the ribs.

“You’re headed straight for trouble, mate.” William murmured under his breath.

Pero shot him a glare. “Shut up.”

The Irishman chuckled but let him go.

As the Spaniard approached the fountain, the eldest princess didn’t even notice him at first. Her fingers still ran gently through Leon’s fur, her eyes unfocused. The kitten let out a soft purr, curling deeper into her arms, sensing its owner’s unease.

Pero cleared his throat. “No dancing today, princesa?”

Y/N blinked, as if only now realizing she had company. She turned her head to look at him, offering a small, forced smile. “Ah… I suppose not.”

The mercenary studied her closely. The princess he had come to know, the one who danced as if the world itself was her stage, the one who was fearless and full of fire, was not the woman sitting before him now. “You are troubled.” He stated gruffly, sitting down beside her on the stone bench.

She let out a soft sigh. “Is it that obvious?”

Pero shrugged. “You do not hide things as well as you think.”

The princess chuckled weakly at that, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. She glanced down at Leon, who gave a tiny meow in response. “It’s just…” She hesitated, then inhaled deeply. “It’s my father. The announcement last night. About my betrothal.”

Pero tensed slightly but kept his expression unreadable. “Ah…”

Y/N traced circles on Leon’s soft fur, her voice quieter now. “I knew this day would come eventually. I always did. As a princess, I understand my duty. Marrying well means securing alliances, strengthening the kingdom… making my father proud.” She exhaled sharply. “But why does it feel like I’m losing something?”

The Spaniard didn’t answer immediately. He watched her, the way her hands trembled slightly as she held Leon closer, the way her brows furrowed in deep thought. Finally, he muttered, “Because you are not choosing.”

She turned to him, eyes widening just a fraction.

He met her gaze, his voice steady but firm. “A woman like you, one who dances like the wind, who moves without chains, you were not meant to be caged.” He leaned back, arms crossed, glancing at the gardens. “And now they tell you that you must belong to someone. Some nobleman with soft hands and empty words.” His lips curled slightly, as if the thought disgusted him. “No wonder you are troubled.”

Y/N stared at him, a strange fluttering in her chest. He was right. That was exactly how she felt. She had spent her whole life cherishing her freedom, the ability to dance wherever she pleased, to lose herself in the music, to defy the expectations of what a princess should be. And now, in just a few days’ time, she would be forced to stand in a ballroom filled with men she did not know, expected to smile, to charm, to let them fight over the right to claim her.

Her fingers tightened around Leon. “I don’t want to be claimed.” She whispered, more to herself than to him.

Pero’s eyes darkened slightly at her words. His hand twitched at his side, but he kept it firmly in his lap, resisting the urge to reach for her. Instead, he simply muttered. “Then don’t be.”

Y/N turned to him fully now, searching his face. “But how? I can’t just defy my father. I can’t…”

“You are a princesa, sí.” Pero interrupted, voice rough. “But you are also you.” His gaze locked onto hers, steady and unwavering. “That means you still have a choice.”

For a moment, they simply stared at each other.

The air between them felt heavier now, charged with something unspoken. The Spaniard had never been a man of soft words or grand gestures, but the intensity in his voice, the conviction in his gaze, it struck something deep within her.

Leon meowed again, breaking the moment. Princess Y/N blinked, looking down at the tiny kitten curled against her chest. “I suppose… I just need to figure out what I want.” She murmured.

Pero exhaled, leaning back against the bench once more. “That would be a good start.”

A small, genuine smile finally touched the princess’ lips. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “You know… you’re a lot wiser than you let on, Ser Pero Tovar.”

He snorted. “Don’t let Garin hear you say that. He’ll never let me live it down.”

She laughed softly, and for the first time since the night before, the weight on her chest felt just a little lighter. And as the afternoon sun warmed them both, neither of them noticed the way William Garin watched from a distance, his arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips.

He had seen many things in his time as a soldier. Battles. Wars. Death.

But watching a hardened warrior and a princess share a quiet moment by the fountain?

Now that was something new.

-----

The golden afternoon light bathed the garden in a soft glow, casting long shadows over the marble fountain where Princess Y/N Lovelei sat, still troubled by the weight of her father’s announcement. Pero Tovar remained beside her, watching as she absentmindedly stroked the small orange kitten nestled in her arms.

He had never been the kind of man to offer words of comfort, his way had always been through action. And right now, he could not bear to see the fire in her eyes dimmed by doubt and duty.

With a quiet sigh, he reached forward, his calloused hands gently cradling hers. She gasped softly at the warmth of his touch, her gaze lifting to meet his. Pero’s grip was firm, yet careful, as though he feared he might break something delicate. “Enough of this sorrow.” He muttered gruffly, lifting Leon from her arms. The tiny kitten gave a sleepy meow as Pero set him down on the stone bench beside them. “You think too much, princesa.”

The princess blinked in confusion. “I…”

Before she could protest, the Spaniard stood, keeping his hold on her hands as he gently but insistently pulled her to her feet. She stumbled slightly in surprise, but his strength steadied her.

“Teach me.” He said simply.

She frowned. “Teach you what?”

Pero smirked, tilting his head. “Your dance.”

Y/N’s lips parted in shock. “You… want to learn ballet?”

He huffed, looking away for a moment. “It is not for me.” He admitted. “It is for you. If dancing is what makes you feel free, then do it.” His deep brown eyes met hers again, sincere and unwavering. “Dance with me, princesa.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

For a long moment, she just stared at him, her mind still caught in the worries of noblemen and forced betrothals. But then, something inside her shifted. A spark. A reminder that she was still her. And if she was to be married off soon, why not steal a moment of happiness for herself now? A smile, soft but real, curled on her lips. “Alright, Ser Pero Tovar.” She said, stepping closer. “But don’t think I’ll go easy on you.”

He snorted. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Princess Y/N giggled, then carefully took his rough hand and guided it to her waist. Pero stiffened slightly at the contact but didn’t pull away. With her other hand, she laced her fingers with his, leading him into position. Leon let out a tiny meow from his spot on the bench, his fluffy tail curling around himself as he watched them with wide, curious eyes.

“Relax…” The princess murmured, glancing up at Pero’s tense expression. “This isn’t a battlefield.”

The mercenary exhaled sharply through his nose. “Feels like one.”

She laughed, her voice light and melodious. “Then follow my lead, soldier.”

And so, they began to move.

At first, Pero’s steps were clumsy, his heavy boots not suited for the delicate, fluid movements of a ballet waltz. But Y/N was patient, gently correcting him with a touch here, a whispered instruction there. Slowly, his movements grew more confident. His grip on her waist firmed, and as they twirled beneath the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, he found himself mesmerized by the way she smiled, free and radiant, as if all her worries had melted away. The princess spun, her gown billowing around her, and he caught her easily, pulling her back into his arms.

Their eyes met, and for a brief, fleeting second, the world around them disappeared.

There was no kingdom. No arranged marriage. No duty.

Only them.

Dancing to their hearts’ content, beneath the golden light of the afternoon.

And as Leon purred from the bench, watching his new owner twirl in the arms of a gruff soldier, it seemed even the little kitten approved.

The garden was alive with the soft rustling of leaves and the faint chirping of birds, but all else seemed to fade as Y/N Lovelei and Pero Tovar danced in perfect harmony around the marble fountain. Their movements were fluid, her light and graceful, his sturdy yet surprisingly gentle. With each twirl, the princess’s pink gown flared like the petals of a blooming rose, and her braided hair caught the evening light like spun sunlight.

The moment was nothing short of magical.

Unbeknownst to them, a dozen pairs of eyes had fallen upon the scene.

Hidden among the hedges, the other eleven princesses had been enjoying their own hobbies, embroidering, reading, painting, and playing music, when the sight of their eldest sister waltzing with a certain rugged soldier caught their attention. One by one, they set their activities aside, gathering at the garden’s edge, their eyes widening in awe.

"Would you look at that…" Ashlyn whispered, pressing a hand to her chest. "She looks like she just stepped out of a fairytale novel."

"Who knew Ser Pero Tovar could be so... graceful?" Delia giggled, her gaze flickering between the dancing pair and the man’s usual gruff demeanor.

"Not me." Hadley whispered in disbelief. "But just look at him! He’s actually smiling!"

Indeed, Pero Tovar, battle-worn and ever-stoic, had a rare softness to his expression. Though he lacked the natural elegance their eldest sister possessed, his steps were sure, his hands steady as he spun her in time with the silent rhythm they had created together. And when she laughed, the sound bright and carefree, he looked down at her with something close to admiration.

"Do you think he’s fallen for her?" Janessa murmured, leaning toward Isla, who simply smirked.

"Do you even have to ask?" Isla replied knowingly.

At that moment, a familiar voice joined them.

“Now, this is a sight I never thought I’d live to see.”

The princesses turned to find William Garin standing a few paces behind them, arms crossed, a grin tugging at his lips as he observed the pair dancing before them. His usual teasing was absent, replaced instead with genuine amusement and perhaps a hint of pride. “Pero Tovar…” The Irishman mused, shaking his head. “The same man who grumbles at the idea of etiquette lessons is now twirling a princess like he was born to do it. Unbelievable.”

"You’re surprised?" Lacey raised a brow. "I thought you knew him best."

William chuckled. "Oh, I know Pero better than most, which is exactly why I’m so surprised. That man avoids softness like the plague. And yet..." He gestured toward them, his smirk deepening. "Look at him now."

The princesses exchanged knowing glances, hearts swelling at the sight of their sister lost in a dance she never expected to share with someone like Pero Tovar.

Princess Y/N, oblivious to her audience, was utterly captivated by the man guiding her through the steps. Though she had led him at first, now it felt as though they moved together in perfect unison. "See?" She murmured, breathless. "I told you I wouldn’t go easy on you."

Pero huffed, but there was no irritation in his voice. "You’re enjoying this too much, princesa."

She only laughed in response, and as Pero spun her once more under the golden evening light, something unspoken passed between them. A connection neither had sought, yet neither could deny.

And from the bushes, the other 11 princesses, and even William Garin, watched with knowing smiles.

Love had taken its first steps in the form of a waltz beneath the setting sun.

-----

The evening air was cool against Princess Y/N’s flushed cheeks as she and Pero Tovar walked side by side toward the castle. The day had been nothing short of magical, from the way he had effortlessly lifted her spirits to the dance they had shared under the golden glow of the setting sun.

Y/N found herself smiling fondly, a warmth settling in her chest as she glanced up at the rugged soldier. He had surprised her in more ways than one, and for that, she was grateful. Stopping in her tracks, she turned to face him. “Ser Pero…” She said softly.

He arched a brow at her sudden pause. “Hmm?”

“Thank you.” She murmured, stepping closer. “For cheering me up. For dancing with me. For everything.” Before Pero could respond, Y/N leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Pero Tovar, warrior, mercenary, a man who had faced countless battles without flinching, found himself completely caught off guard. His body went rigid, his breath hitching ever so slightly. For a fleeting moment, his mind went blank, save for the warmth of her lips against his rough skin. By the time he managed to compose himself, Princess Y/N had already taken a step back, a shy yet amused smile playing on her lips. Pero cleared his throat, shifting slightly as if to shake off the unfamiliar fluttering in his chest. “We should get back.” He muttered. “Dinner is almost ready.”

The eldest princess giggled at his flustered state but nodded in agreement. “Yes, let’s…” Before she could take another step, her foot faltered, her balance slipping beneath her. Pero reacted instantly, reaching out to catch her before she could stumble to the ground.

"Are you alright?" He asked, steadying her by the waist.

Y/N, however, didn’t respond right away. Her gaze had dropped to her feet, her breath catching as she noticed the cause of her misstep. Her dancing slippers, the very pair her mother had gifted her before she passed away, had been damaged. The delicate satin was torn, the sole cracked from the countless steps she had taken that day.

A sharp pang twisted in her chest.

“No...” She whispered, her voice barely audible.

Pero watched as her fingers trembled, carefully lifting the ruined slipper as if it were something fragile, something irreplaceable. Her soft gentle eyes shone with unshed tears, and his chest tightened at the sight. He didn’t know much about princesses or their treasures, but he understood loss. “Y/N…” He said softly, drawing her attention back to him.

She blinked up at him, her expression filled with sorrow. “It was my mother’s gift.” She admitted in a small voice. “The last thing she ever gave me before she passed.”

The weight of her words settled between them.

Pero remained silent for a moment before, with surprising gentleness, he reached out and brushed a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

“We will fix it.” He said simply, his tone firm with quiet certainty.

The princess searched his gaze, surprised by the conviction in his voice.

“You don’t have to…”

“I want to.” He interrupted, his voice rough yet sincere. “You are not alone in this.” For a man who had spent his life believing in little more than survival and battle, it was a strange thing to offer comfort. But looking at her now, with the moonlight casting a soft glow upon her sorrowful expression, Pero Tovar knew one thing for certain…

He wanted to see her smile again.

And he would make sure her beloved slipper was restored, no matter what it took.

-----

The night had settled over Castle Lovelei, the halls quiet save for the occasional flicker of torchlight casting shadows along the stone walls. While the rest of the castle’s inhabitants had retired for the night, Pero Tovar remained awake, seated at a small wooden table in his quarters.

Before him lay Princess Y/N Lovelei’s broken dancing slipper.

With calloused fingers, he carefully examined the torn satin and cracked sole, his brows furrowed in concentration. He had never repaired something so delicate before, armor, weapons, even stitching up wounds, yes, but a slipper meant for a princess? That was uncharted territory.

Still, he found himself determined.

His fingers traced the worn fabric, recalling the sadness in the princess’ eyes when she realized her beloved gift from her mother had been damaged. He had never seen her look so heartbroken before, and for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, the sight of it had unsettled him deeply. Just as he was about to thread a needle, the door creaked open.

“Now this…” Came William Garin’s amused voice. “...is a sight I never thought I’d see.”

Pero didn’t bother looking up. “If you have nothing useful to say, go away.”

William stepped further into the room, arms crossed as he smirked down at his companion. “Sewing slippers now, are we? Didn’t take you for the sentimental type.”

The Spaniard scowled, but his hands remained steady as he continued working on the delicate fabric. “It’s not sentiment.” He muttered. “It’s fixing something important to her.”

The Irishman scoffed, plopping down onto a nearby chair. “Right. And I suppose it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re helplessly in love with the dancing princess?”

At that, Pero finally looked up.

And to William’s utter surprise, the older soldier didn’t scoff or dismiss the accusation. He simply exhaled through his nose, his expression softening ever so slightly as he glanced back down at the slipper in his hands. “Someone like her…” Pero said, voice quieter than usual. “...is easy to love.”

The blonde mercenary blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the rare honesty in his friend’s voice.

The Spaniard continued, his tone more certain now. “She is strong, kind, and full of life. She makes the world brighter just by being in it.” He paused, his fingers tracing the stitching he had just finished. “She deserves good things. This slipper… it’s just one of them.”

For a long moment, William simply stared at him. He had known Pero Tovar for years, had fought alongside him, endured battles and hardships side by side. Never once had he heard the man speak so openly, so genuinely, about someone else. With a slow grin, he leaned back in his chair. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Pero shot him a warning look. “Not a word to anyone.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” William said with a chuckle. “I’ll let the princess figure it out herself.”

The Spaniard rolled his eyes, returning his focus to the slipper. He had a long night ahead of him, but as he carefully worked to restore the precious gift, he didn’t mind in the slightest. Because if it meant seeing Y/N Lovelei smile again, if it meant keeping even the smallest piece of her happiness intact, then Pero Tovar would gladly spend his nights stitching silk and mending broken things.

-----

The morning sunlight bathed Castle Lovelei’s gardens in a warm golden glow. The 12 princesses were scattered across the vibrant landscape, engaged in their daily studies and pastimes. Some were gathered beneath the shady oaks, flipping through pages of old tomes, while others sat in clusters, embroidering intricate patterns onto silken fabric.

But Princess Y/N Lovelei remained by the garden fountains, her usual joy dulled by the absence of her dancing. She sighed, cradling little Leon in her lap as the orange kitten purred against her touch. “What am I to do with myself, Leon?” She murmured, absentmindedly stroking his fluffy ears. “I feel restless just sitting here.” The tiny creature meowed as if in sympathy, curling closer against her.

Just then, the sound of footsteps crunching along the stone pathway caught her attention. She looked up to find Pero Tovar approaching with a confident stride, his expression unreadable. In his hands, he held something wrapped in a fine cloth.

The princess blinked in curiosity as he stopped before her.

“Stand up, princesa,” Pero said, his voice gruff yet warm.

She arched a delicate brow but complied, gently setting Leon down on the bench. As soon as she was on her feet, Pero slowly unwrapped the cloth, revealing…

Her eyes widened.

“My dancing shoes…” She breathed, her voice laced with astonishment. The once-damaged slippers now looked nearly brand new. The satin was smooth, the stitching strong, the sole reinforced. Every tear had been carefully mended with such precision that it was as if they had never been broken in the first place. Her lips parted in shock before they stretched into a radiant, beaming smile.

“Ser Pero…” She gasped, her hands fluttering to her chest. “You…you fixed them?”

Pero smirked at her reaction, holding the slippers out to her. “I told you I could fix broken things.”

Without thinking, Y/N launched herself forward, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders in a warm embrace. “Thank you.” She murmured against him, her voice rich with genuine gratitude. “Thank you so much, Ser Pero.”

For a moment, the Spaniard stiffened, caught off guard by the affectionate gesture. But as her warmth seeped into him, he slowly brought a hand up, hesitantly resting it against the small of her back. It was brief, but it was enough.

When the eldest princess pulled away, her cheeks were tinged with a soft pink. Pero cleared his throat and looked away for a moment before motioning toward the bench. “Sit.” He instructed, his voice softer now. “Let me put them on you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, her flustered expression deepening. “O-Oh…” She stammered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to…”

“I want to…” He interrupted simply, his dark eyes steady as they met hers. Something in his gaze left her breathless. Without another word, she sat back down, smoothing out her skirts as Pero knelt before her. His large hands were surprisingly gentle as he slid the first slipper onto her foot, adjusting the fit with careful precision. His fingertips brushed against her ankle, and she bit the inside of her cheek to suppress the shiver that threatened to race up her spine.

Pero, on the other hand, found himself oddly nervous, a rare feeling for him. He had fought battles, faced death countless times, yet somehow, helping the princess put on her dancing slippers felt like the most delicate, nerve-wracking task he had ever done. He moved on to the second shoe, securing it just as carefully before finally pulling back. “Try them.” He murmured.

Princess Y/N hesitated for only a moment before gracefully rising to her feet. She took a deep breath and stood on the tips of her toes, testing the repaired slippers. A bright laugh bubbled from her lips as she twirled once, then twice, pure delight shining in her gentle eyes. “They’re perfect!” She exclaimed, spinning in effortless circles. “They feel even better than before!”

The Spaniard remained where he was, watching her with quiet admiration. The way she moved, so free, so full of life, left him completely mesmerized.

Leon meowed from the bench as if agreeing.

Finally, Y/N stopped twirling and turned back to Pero, her expression softer now. She reached for his hand, squeezing it lightly. “You truly are my hero, Ser Pero Tovar.”

The words sent an unfamiliar warmth spreading through Pero’s chest. He squeezed her hand back, a small, rare smile playing on his lips. “Anytime, princesa.” He murmured.

And as the golden sunlight bathed them in its glow, he realized that there was nothing in this world he wouldn’t do to keep that smile on her face.

-----

A few moments later, Pero sat on the stone bench, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching in silence as Princess Y/N danced to her heart’s content once again. The repaired slippers he had painstakingly mended now carried her with effortless grace across the smooth stone pavement of the garden fountains. The princess was radiant, bathed in the golden hues of the afternoon sun, her hair catching the light as she twirled and leaped with all the elegance of a bird in flight. Every movement was precise yet free, controlled yet full of joy. It was as if the world around her ceased to exist whenever she danced.

On his lap, little Leon purred contentedly, curled into a tiny ball of soft orange fluff. Pero absently ran his calloused fingers through the kitten’s fur, but his eyes never left Y/N.

Gods, she looked beautiful.

He had thought it before, many times, in fact, but now, watching her move with such effortless grace, the words echoed louder in his mind. She was enchanting, utterly mesmerizing.

His little dancing princess.

The thought made something in his chest tighten. It was dangerous, the way he was feeling. Pero had always been a man who kept his heart guarded, unwilling to let anyone in. He had seen too much, lost too much. But Y/N… she had slipped through the cracks without him even realizing it. She twirled again, her arms outstretched, her expression alight with joy. And then, as if sensing his gaze, she suddenly stopped and turned toward him.

Her gentle eyes locked onto his, and a slow, warm smile spread across her lips. “Am I tiring you yet?” She teased, slightly breathless from all the movement.

The Spaniard smirked, shaking his head. “Not at all, princesa. You could dance all day, and I wouldn’t look away.”

Princess Y/N’s flustered slightly at his words, but she hid it behind a soft laugh. She made her way toward him, her skirts swaying around her ankles as she stopped just before the bench. “And what about you, Sir Tovar?” She asked playfully. “Are you not tempted to join me for another dance?”

Pero chuckled, shifting slightly in his seat. “I think I’ve done enough twirling for a lifetime.”

She pouted dramatically. “Such a shame…” She sighed. “I was hoping to teach you a few more steps.”

He tilted his head, amusement twinkling in his dark eyes. “Is that so?”

She nodded, stepping closer, her hands lightly clasped in front of her. “But I suppose I’ll have to be content knowing that you were the reason I’m able to dance again.”

At this, the Spaniard fell silent. He wasn’t a man who sought gratitude, nor was he accustomed to being someone’s source of happiness. But hearing her say it, seeing the way she looked at him with such warmth and sincerity, it made something shift inside him.

Leon let out a tiny meow, stretching lazily in Pero’s lap before hopping off to chase a butterfly nearby. Y/N giggled at the sight, but her attention quickly returned to Pero as she reached out a delicate hand. “Come…” She said softly. “Just one dance. No twirling required.”

Pero sighed dramatically but took her hand nonetheless. “You are impossible, princesa.”

She only grinned as she pulled him to his feet. “And yet, you still indulge me.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

And as she guided his hands into place, as they swayed together beneath the golden afternoon sun, Pero realized he wouldn’t have it any other way.

After some time, the late afternoon sun soon casted golden streaks across the garden fountains as Pero Tovar found himself once again caught in the arms of Princess Y/N Lovelei. His hands rested firmly at her waist, her delicate fingers laced through his as they swayed in perfect harmony. The world around them faded into nothingness, there was only the gentle rustling of leaves, the distant chirping of birds, and the soft rhythm of their shared breath.

Y/N smiled up at him, her gentle eyes glistening with a warmth that made his heart ache in the best possible way. “You’re getting better.” She teased.

Pero smirked, tightening his hold on her slightly. “I think I’ve had a good teacher.”

She laughed, the sound light and airy, like a melody carried by the wind. They moved together effortlessly, each step guiding them around the stone pavement surrounding the fountains. The soft splashing of water and the rustling of her skirts against the ground only added to the magic of the moment.

He wasn’t a man of grace, he was a warrior, a man whose hands were more accustomed to wielding weapons than holding something as delicate as she was. And yet, in her presence, with her guiding him through every motion, he felt lighter, as if the weight he always carried had somehow lessened.

The dance slowed, and the princess’ movements became gentler, drawing them to a close. The Spaniard followed her lead, unwilling to let go just yet. As their steps stilled, their bodies remained close, chests rising and falling in sync as they caught their breath.

And then, without thinking, Pero rested his forehead against hers. The space between them disappeared, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as if time had stopped. Y/N’s breath was warm against his skin, and he could feel the slight tremble in her fingers still entwined with his.

He could kiss her.

The thought struck him hard, so sudden and overwhelming that it nearly stole his breath away. She was right there, so close, so beautiful, her lips slightly parted as if waiting.

But he knew he shouldn’t.

As much as he wanted to, as much as every part of him ached to claim her lips, Pero held back. He wasn’t a nobleman. He wasn’t someone who could offer her the kind of life she deserved. She was a princess, and he was merely a soldier, a man who had seen too much bloodshed and darkness.

And yet…

He closed his eyes and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead instead.

Princess Y/N sighed softly at the touch, leaning into him with a smile that was just as bright as the golden glow surrounding them. She didn’t seem disappointed, in fact, she looked completely at peace. “Thank you.” She murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Pero pulled back slightly, his hands still resting at her waist. “For what, princesa?”

“For this…” She said simply, her gaze filled with an affection that made his heart pound.

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. Instead, he simply held her for a moment longer, memorizing the warmth of her in his arms. Because if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that this dance, this moment, was one worth remembering.

-----

The grand dressing chambers of the twelve princesses were filled with the soft rustling of silk nightgowns and the occasional giggle as they prepared for bed. The flickering glow of candlelight cast golden hues across the room, illuminating each sister as they brushed their hair in front of their respective vanity mirrors and whispered about the day's events.

But it was their eldest sister, Y/N Lovelei, who caught everyone's attention that night. Seated before her vanity, she hummed a soft melody while running a brush through her long locks. There was an unmistakable dreamy look in her gentle eyes, a soft smile playing on her lips as though she were lost in another world entirely.

Her younger sisters exchanged knowing glances.

“She’s doing it again.” Ashlyn, the second eldest, whispered with a grin, leaning closer to the others.

“Doing what?” Hadley, always eager to tease, smirked.

“Dreaming about him, obviously.” Delia chimed in, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Y/N, unaware, or perhaps purposefully ignoring them, continued brushing her hair, the tune of her hum growing even sweeter.

Fallon, the most gentle among them, tilted her head curiously. “Do you think she’s in love?”

“In love?” Edeline gasped dramatically, clasping her hands over her chest. “Our big sister? The same Y/N who swore she’d never let a man take her away from dancing? Oh, how the mighty have fallen!”

At that, Y/N let out an exasperated sigh and turned toward them, slowly becoming embarrassed at their dramatic words and accusations. “I have not fallen.” She insisted, though the way her voice wavered betrayed her words.

“Then why were you dancing with Pero Tovar again today?” Edeline asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I don’t know…” Courtney drawled playfully. “Maybe because she likes him.”

A chorus of giggles erupted, and Y/N groaned, placing her brush down in surrender. “Must you all be so insufferable?”

“Yes!” Came the unified response, sending them into another fit of laughter.

Princess Fallon, the most romantic of them all, clasped her hands together dreamily. “He is rather handsome, in a rugged sort of way.”

“Oh, most definitely.” Blair agreed. “And he dances with you, sis! You’ve never danced with anyone the way you dance with him.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest but found herself at a loss for words. Because deep down, she knew they were right. Pero Tovar was different. He was gruff, a little rough around the edges, and yet… when he held her in his arms, he was nothing but gentle. Patient. Attentive. He made her feel like the only woman in the world.

“You should have seen the way he looked at you.” Ashlyn continued, leaning against the bedpost. “Like he was utterly enchanted.”

The eldest princess exhaled softly, a warmth spreading through her chest at the memory. He had looked at her that way, hadn’t he? And when he had kissed her forehead…

She touched the spot absentmindedly, her heart fluttering. The action did not go unnoticed.

A dramatic gasp filled the room. “She’s thinking about the kiss!” Delia practically squealed.

“That wasn’t even a real kiss.” Y/N muttered, rolling her eyes, though her sisters caught the way her lips curled upward ever so slightly.

“Yet you’re still thinking about it!” Fallon teased, nudging her shoulder. “Face it, dearest sister, you are in love.”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head with a laugh. “You are all impossible.”

“But you love us.” Isla chimed in, wrapping her arms around her big sister in an affectionate hug, soon followed by the rest. The eldest princess, despite her feigned exasperation, smiled as she embraced them back. Because as much as they teased, they were her sisters, the ones who knew her best.

And perhaps, just perhaps, they were right.

Maybe she really was in love.

-----

The grand castle of the Lovelei family was alive with celebration. Festive banners of deep rose, gold, and ivory adorned the halls, shimmering under the glow of countless chandeliers. The scent of fresh flowers, white lilies and pink roses filled the air, mingling with the aroma of the finest delicacies being prepared for the grand feast. Outside, the kingdom bustled with excitement, citizens gathering in the village square to join in the merriment, while inside the castle, noble guests from all corners of the land arrived, dressed in their finest attire, eager to celebrate the birthday of the beloved eldest princess, Y/N Lovelei.

But amidst all the grandeur, in the royal chambers, eleven princesses were in a flurry of motion as they fussed over their eldest sister.

“Oh, Y/N, just stay still for one more second!” Isla whined as she carefully adjusted the golden tiara atop of their eldest sister’s head.

“I am staying still.” The said princess protested with a light laugh, though she couldn’t hide the nervous flutter in her chest. Her sisters had gone to great lengths to ensure she looked absolutely perfect for her special day. Her long hair cascaded down her back, pinned with delicate pearls and adorned with a few tiny roses. Her gown was breathtaking, an elegant creation of flowing silk and lace in the deepest shade of pink, embroidered with golden threads that shimmered like sunlight. The off-the-shoulder design framed her gracefully, and the delicate crystal embellishments along the skirt sparkled with every movement, resembling the stars themselves.

“She looks stunning!” Ashlyn breathed, stepping back to admire their work.

“She looks regal!” Fallon corrected. “Like a true queen in the making.”

The eldest princess shook her head with an amused smile. “I do not intend to be queen, dear sister.”

“No, but you certainly look like one.” Courtney grinned.

Before Y/N could respond, a soft knock sounded at the door.

“Girls.” Came the familiar, deep voice of their father, King Randolph. “The guests are waiting. It is time.” The room fell silent as the door creaked open, revealing their father standing at the threshold. The moment his gaze landed on his eldest daughter, his breath caught in his throat.

She was beautiful. So beautiful.

For a fleeting moment, it was as though time had rewound, and he was seeing his late wife once more. The resemblance was uncanny, the way Y/N held herself, the grace in her posture, the warmth in her gentle eyes. She was not just a reflection of their mother’s beauty, but a testament to her strength, kindness, and spirit. Randolph’s lips parted, his eyes glistening as he stepped forward. “My darling girl…” His voice wavered slightly, betraying the overwhelming emotion in his heart. “You look… just like her.”

The sisters exchanged glances, their expressions softening at their father’s tenderness.

Y/N’s own eyes grew misty as she stepped forward, gently taking his hands in hers. “Father…”

He swallowed thickly, shaking his head with a bittersweet smile. “She would have been so proud of the woman you’ve become.”

She squeezed his hands. “I hope I’ve made you proud too.”

Randolph let out a quiet chuckle, pulling her into a warm embrace. “You always have.”

The moment was tender, filled with love and remembrance, but the sound of distant music reminded them of their duties. The celebration awaited them. Taking a deep breath, Randolph stepped back and offered his arm to his eldest daughter. “Shall we?”

Y/N nodded, placing her hand in the crook of his arm, her sisters following closely behind.

As they made their way toward the grand ballroom, the eldest princess felt her nerves return, not because of the celebration itself, but because of what it symbolized. Tonight was not just about her birthday; it was about finding a suitor. A potential husband.

Her gaze flickered across the halls, searching for a familiar figure.

Where are you, Pero?

Little did she know, just beyond the ballroom doors, a certain rugged soldier stood waiting in the shadows, his eyes solely searching for her.

Upon entering the grand ballroom of the Lovelei castle was a breathtaking sight to behold. Golden chandeliers cast a warm glow over the marbled floors, while the towering glass windows allowed the silver moonlight to mix with the soft candlelight. Elegant floral arrangements adorned every corner, the scent of roses and jasmine drifting through the air as noble guests from across the kingdom gathered in anticipation.

At the sound of the herald’s trumpet, the grand oak doors were pulled open, and the room fell silent.

“Presenting His Majesty, King Randolph of House Lovelei, and the twelve princesses of the royal family.” The steward announced, his voice echoing through the hall. All eyes turned toward the grand staircase as King Randolph led his daughters down the steps, his eldest, Y/N, on his arm. Whispers and murmurs broke out among the noblemen and princes, their gazes fixated on the eldest princess.

“She is even more beautiful than the rumors say.” “A true vision of grace.” “A wife most befitting of a future king.”

The princes in attendance, some regal, some young and ambitious, straightened their postures, eager to make an impression. The whispers grew louder, speculations swirling about who would be the fortunate man to claim the eldest princess’s hand.

Princess Y/N, however, barely paid them any mind. Though she kept her poise, her heart was restless. She knew why they were here. This was not just a celebration, it was a showcase for potential suitors. But the idea of a stranger claiming her hand felt suffocating. Her sisters, however, reveled in the attention, sharing playful glances amongst themselves as they descended the staircase.

But before any nobleman could step forward, two figures cut through the crowd. Pero Tovar and William Garin approached the Lovelei family, their presence commanding attention despite the finery that surrounded them. Their attire was more refined than usual, cleaned and well-tailored, though still practical. Pero's dark, rugged features stood in stark contrast to the delicate grandeur of the ballroom, yet his intense gaze was only fixed on one person.

The moment Y/N saw him, she felt the tension in her shoulders ease.

With a deep bow, William was the first to speak. “Your Majesty. Princesses. We are honored to celebrate this joyous occasion with you.”

Pero followed suit, bowing deeply before meeting Y/N’s gaze. “Feliz cumpleaños, princesa.” His voice was rough yet soft, his accent thick as he offered her a rare, almost shy smile. Then, to the shock of the gathered nobles, both men took the said princess’ hand in turn, pressing a respectful kiss to the back of it. The sisters stifled their giggles behind their hands, eyes gleaming with amusement.

The Spaniard then reached into his coat and pulled out something small, carefully wrapped in cloth. When he unwrapped it, a single, pristine white rose was revealed. Its petals were soft, delicate, and untouched by imperfection. “I…” He hesitated, his brows furrowing slightly. “I was at the markets earlier and saw this and it immediately made me think of you, princesa.”

A hush fell over the immediate crowd. The noblemen who had been vying for Princess Y/N’s attention now watched with wary intrigue. She, however, did not hesitate. She smiled, her eyes softening as she reached out and accepted the rose with both hands, holding it as if it were the most precious thing in the world. “It is perfect, Ser Pero.” Then, before anyone could process what was happening, the princess stepped forward and pressed a tender kiss to his cheek.

A collective gasp filled the ballroom.

Her sisters let out squeals of delight, clinging onto each other in sheer glee.

Even William raised his eyebrows in amusement, smirking as Pero’s expression froze, his face slightly tinged with red.

King Randolph, ever composed, cleared his throat and cast a stern glance toward his younger daughters, silencing their giggles.

Princess Y/N, meanwhile, stepped back, still holding the white rose close to her chest. She looked up at Pero, her voice warm and full of gratitude. “Thank you.”

The Spaniard swallowed hard, forcing himself to regain his composure. He merely nodded, his dark eyes never leaving hers.

The other noblemen shifted uncomfortably. The way the birthday princess looked at this rugged soldier, this foreign mercenary, was not how one looked at a mere guard. There was something deeper there. Something that made them uneasy.

And for the first time that night, Pero Tovar felt like the most powerful man in the room.

-----

Once Pero and William had taken their place in their designated post for tonight, Princess Y/N turned to her lady-in-waiting, her eyes shining with warmth and determination. She carefully placed the single white rose into the younger woman’s hands. “Take this to my chambers, please.” She instructed softly. “Put it in my most lavish vase, and make sure it is well cared for while I am here.”

The lady-in-waiting, though surprised by the special request, nodded respectfully. “Of course, Your Highness.” As the white rose was whisked away to be tended to, the evening festivities resumed in full splendor. The grand ballroom, already alive with music and chatter, became even more animated as noblemen and princes, emboldened by their ambitions, took their chances to approach the eldest princess.

One by one, they came forward, bowing politely and introducing themselves with rehearsed charm.

“Princess Y/N, would you grant me the honor of a dance?” One nobleman in a deep-blue tunic asked, extending his gloved hand.

Y/N, ever the gracious host, accepted with a polite smile and allowed herself to be led onto the dance floor. But the moment the music began, she knew she was in trouble. Her partner was clumsy. His steps were erratic, his grip on her waist far too tight, and worst of all, he kept stepping on her toes. She winced, though she did not voice her discomfort. It was clear that he had no sense of rhythm, nor an understanding of how to properly lead a dance.

When the song ended, the birthday princess politely excused herself and barely had time to breathe before another suitor stepped in. This one, a young duke from a neighboring land, was just as eager to impress. But the moment he pulled her in too close, his breath far too close to her ear, Y/N felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. It was suffocating. Forced. She smiled stiffly, tolerating it for the sake of diplomacy, but her heart wasn’t in it.

One dance turned into two, then three, and with each new partner, the eldest princess felt herself growing more exhausted. None of them matched her rhythm. None of them made her feel at ease.

And then…

A familiar calloused hand reached for hers.

“Princesa.”

Princess Y/N looked up, her breath catching in her throat.

Pero Tovar stood before her, the warm candlelight flickering against his rugged features. He was still dressed in his tailored formal wear, though it was clear the stiffness of it made him uncomfortable. And yet, despite his usual gruff demeanor, there was something different in his gaze. Something softer. “Dance with me?” He simply asks.

The other noblemen bristled, exchanging incredulous looks. A mercenary? A soldier? Asking for a dance with the princess? It was unheard of.

But she did not hesitate. She smiled, a genuine, radiant smile, and placed her hand in his. “I would love to.” She whispered.

A hushed murmur spread across the ballroom as Pero led Y/N toward the center of the dance floor. The nobles watched with a mix of confusion and intrigue, unsure what to expect.

Then the music began.

Unlike the previous noblemen, Pero did not fumble or step on her feet. He did not pull her too close or make her feel trapped. Instead, his movements were precise yet unhurried, his grip firm but gentle. Y/N followed his lead effortlessly, her body moving as if she were gliding on air. Then, as the melody swelled, he lifted her into a graceful twirl, one she had practiced countless times with him in her ballet routines. She gasped softly, delighted, as he spun her like she was his most precious ballerina.

The world around them faded. The murmurs, the whispers, the disapproving gazes, it all ceased to exist. At this moment, it was just them.

A soldier and his princess.

Y/N’s heart pounded as she gazed up at him. Pero, for all his rough edges, moved with a grace that surprised even her. His eyes never left hers, filled with something unspoken, something deep. And for the first time that night, no, perhaps for the first time in her life, the eldest princess felt like she was truly dancing with someone who understood her.

By the time the song ended, she was breathless.

Pero, too, was breathing heavily, yet he did not release her. His hands remained on her waist, his forehead nearly resting against hers.

Applause erupted around them, though neither seemed to notice.

All Y/N knew was that her heart was racing.

And when she looked at Pero, she could swear his was too.

-----

King Randolph Lovelei stood at the edge of the ballroom, watching the scene unfold before him with a quiet, knowing expression. His eyes followed the graceful twirls and careful steps of his eldest daughter, Y/N, as she danced with none other than Pero Tovar. The way they moved together, so seamlessly, so naturally, it was unlike any dance he had ever witnessed before.

It was intimate.

It was effortless.

And above all… it was filled with something that the King recognized immediately.

Love.

His sharp eyes caught the way Y/N gazed up at Pero, her smile tender, her hair bouncing with each spin as if she belonged nowhere else but in his arms. Likewise, Pero’s expression, usually hardened with wariness and stubbornness, had softened into something unguarded. Something reverent.

Randolph let out a breath, arms folded over his chest.

“That look…” He murmured to himself. Before he could dwell on it any longer, a giggle interrupted his thoughts.

“Father, you’re staring.” He turned his head slightly to find his second eldest daughter, Ashlyn, standing beside him with a sly smile.

“I am merely observing.” He corrected.

“Observing Y/N and Sir Pero?” His fifth daughter, Delia, chimed in, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

Randolph raised a brow. “So, you all have noticed it too, then?”

A chorus of whispers and giggles erupted from his other eleven daughters, who had gathered around him, clearly invested in the blossoming romance.

“Of course we have!” Lacey grinned.

“They’ve been sneaking glances at each other for weeks now.” Hadley added, adjusting the flowers in her hair.

“And you should have seen them in the garden yesterday.” Fallon sighed dreamily. “They were dancing by the fountains like something out of a fairytale!”

Randolph’s brow lifted slightly, glancing back toward the dance floor.

Pero had just finished twirling Y/N into a gentle dip, his arm strong around her waist as she laughed breathlessly in his hold.

He had seen that look before.

Long ago.

It was the same look he himself had worn whenever he gazed at his late wife, the love of his life. A quiet warmth spread through his chest. He could have been angry. Could have been outraged that a mere soldier, no matter how skilled, had dared to look at his daughter in such a way.

But he wasn’t.

Instead, a small, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Father?” His youngest, Lacey, asked softly.

Randolph exhaled, turning to his daughters with a wry chuckle. “So, tell me, my loves… just how long has this been going on?” The princesses gasped in delight, eager to share every little detail of what they had noticed. And as their father listened, his gaze returned to the dance floor, where Y/N and Pero remained lost in each other, utterly unaware of the rest of the world.

Yes.

He had seen that look before.

And perhaps… just perhaps… it was time to let fate take its course.

-----

The final notes of the waltz soon faded into the air, leaving only the soft rustling of fabric and the distant murmur of the ballroom. Pero Tovar held Princess Y/N close, his strong arms steady around her waist as they both caught their breaths. Her locks shimmered under the warm candlelight, her gentle eyes gazing up at him with a brightness that made his chest tighten. Her smile, radiant, genuine, filled with something he dared not name, had the mercenary completely spellbound.

He had never seen someone look at him like that before.

Like he was something to be cherished.

A man unworthy of such tenderness, yet here she was, offering it to him freely.

Y/N giggled softly, pressing a hand to his chest as she felt the rapid beating of his heart beneath his tunic. "Are you tired already, Sir Tovar?" She teased lightly, tilting her head. "Or is it something else making your heart race?"

Pero let out a breathy chuckle, his lips curling into a shy smile. He was never a man of sweet words, but with her, he found himself trying. "You…It’s because of you." He admitted gruffly, voice low, almost like a confession.

The princess’ lips soon stretched in a pretty and heart warming smile at his honesty, her fingers lightly tracing the fabric of his sleeve. Encouraged by her reaction, The Spaniard lowered his forehead to rest gently against hers. His nose brushed against hers, an intimate, fleeting touch. She let out another soft giggle, the sound filling his chest with warmth.

From the corner of his eye, Pero could see some of her sisters peeking from the crowd, their hands covering their mouths as they squealed and whispered amongst themselves. Even William, standing near the King, had an amused smirk on his face. He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head in amusement. "Your sisters are enjoying this too much." He muttered.

Y/N hummed in agreement but made no effort to move away from him. Instead, she whispered. "Let them." She then leaned in ever so slightly, her lips brushing his cheek once again, just as she had done before. The touch was fleeting, barely there, yet it sent a shiver down his spine.

The Spaniard swallowed hard, his fingers unconsciously tightening on her waist, anchoring himself. If he wasn't already hopelessly in love with her, he certainly was now.

Once their dance had come to an end, the ballroom was soon filled with cheerful laughter and applause as the grand, five-layered vanilla cake was wheeled into the center of the room. Intricately decorated with delicate sugar roses and golden embellishments, it was a masterpiece befitting a princess. It was finally time to blow the birthday cake. Princess Y/N stood at the head of the long banquet table, her family and noble guests surrounding her as the servants carefully lit the candles. The flickering glow reflected in her soft gentle eyes as everyone began singing.

"Happy birthday, dear Y/N..."

As the final note faded, the eldest princess clasped her hands together, closing her eyes for a brief moment. She made a wish in her heart before exhaling gently, blowing out the candles in one graceful breath. Applause erupted once more, and her sisters cheered enthusiastically.

"Speech, Big sis! Speech!" Lacey, the youngest, giggled, clapping her hands.

The said princess laughed softly, shaking her head. "No speech. But I will say…thank you, everyone, for making this day so special."

As tradition dictated, the birthday celebrant always had the honor of cutting the first slice and offering it to someone dear to their heart. In previous years, Y/N had always given her first slice to either her beloved father or one of her younger sisters. It was expected.

But this year...

Her hands hesitated only for a moment before she carefully lifted a piece of cake onto a golden plate. The room fell silent, all eyes curiously watching as she turned…

And walked straight toward Pero Tovar.

The gruff soldier, who had been standing a respectable distance away, stiffened slightly when he saw her approach. His dark eyes flickered with uncertainty, but he remained still as the eldest princess stopped in front of him, holding out the plate with a warm, knowing smile.

Whispers and gasps rippled through the noble guests. Her sisters squealed in delight. Even William let out a low whistle, clearly amused.

Pero, for his part, could only stare at her, utterly dumbfounded. His calloused hands twitched at his sides, unsure of what to do.

"You are dear to me, Ser Pero." Princess Y/N said softly, so only he could hear. "And I want you to have the first slice."

His throat felt dry. He glanced briefly at King Randolph, half-expecting the man to show disapproval, but to his shock, the King merely watched with an unreadable yet gentle expression. Realizing there was no protest, the Spaniard swallowed his pride, his heart hammering in his chest as he slowly reached out, his fingers brushing hers as he accepted the plate. "Gracias, mi princesa." He murmured, voice hoarse with emotion.

Princess Y/N's smile only widened. "Happy birthday to me, then." She teased before gracefully turning back to rejoin her family, leaving Pero standing there, completely and utterly enchanted with a golden plate of cake in his hands.

-----

After the cake cutting ceremony, the ballroom continued to shimmer under the golden candlelight as the time came for the presentation of gifts. Princess Y/N Lovelei still stood at the head of the banquet hall, surrounded by her father and sisters, as noble guests eagerly stepped forward with their lavish offerings.

"From the House of Everston." A nobleman declared, bowing as his attendants revealed an ornate velvet box. Inside, a dazzling sapphire necklace rested on a bed of silk.

"From the Duchy of Norwell." Another noble presented, unveiling bolts of the finest silks, woven with gold thread.

The birthday princess accepted each gift with grace and gratitude, though she knew many of these gestures were mere attempts to gain her favor. Her heart, however, truly warmed when her family stepped forward.

Her father, King Randolph, stood before her, holding a small but exquisitely carved wooden box. "My dearest Y/N." He said, voice thick with emotion. "This belonged to your mother, and now, it belongs to you." He opened the box to reveal a breathtaking tiara, a delicate crown of gold adorned with pearls and glimmering gemstones.

Y/N's breath hitched, her fingers trembling as she reached for it. "Father..."

"You have become a woman she would have been so proud of." Randolph whispered, placing the tiara gently upon her head. Tears welled in her eyes, but before she could dwell in the moment, her eleven sisters excitedly surrounded her, each bearing their own thoughtful gifts.

"Here! I painted this for you!" Ashlyn beamed, handing over a canvas depicting their eldest sister dancing in the gardens.

"I wrote you a letter." Delia chimed in, handing over a neatly folded parchment sealed with a wax stamp.

Scarves, books, perfume bottles, intricate hair accessories, even small trinkets for little Leon, all were gifted to her with heartfelt joy.

Then came William Garin. "Happy birthday, Princess." He said with a teasing grin, presenting her with a beautifully handcrafted handheld mirror. Its silver frame was engraved with intricate floral patterns. "For someone as lovely as you, it only makes sense to have a mirror to remind you of it."

The princess laughed, shaking her head at his charm. "Thank you, William. This is beautiful."

Finally, all eyes turned to Pero Tovar. Unlike the others, he had no elaborate box, no fine silk wrapping, only a simple cloth bundle in his rough hands. He hesitated for a brief moment, before stepping forward and carefully unwrapping his gift.

A pair of ballet shoes. Hand-stitched, perfectly measured, and crafted with such care that it was clear how much time he had poured into making them.

Y/N gasped softly, her hands flying to her mouth. "Pero..."

"I made them myself…" He muttered, his gruff voice betraying a hint of nervousness. "Figured you'd want another pair, considering how much you dance."

She took the shoes reverently, running her fingers over the soft material. These weren’t just any ballet shoes. They were made specifically for her. Her heart swelled with emotion, and without hesitation, she stepped forward and threw her arms around him. "Thank you." She whispered, hugging him tightly. "I love them."

Pero stiffened for only a second before relaxing into her embrace, his large hands resting on her back.

From the sidelines, William smirked, nudging King Randolph with an amused look. "Well, if that isn't love, I don’t know what is." The King simply smiled, watching the way the Spaniard held his daughter as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

-----

The next morning after the grand birthday celebration dedicated to Princess Y/N Lovelei, the morning sun rose gently over the Lovelei Kingdom, casting golden hues through the castle windows. The grand dining hall was filled with the soft clinking of silverware as the eleven princesses sat around the long table, enjoying their morning meal.

King Randolph took his usual seat at the head of the table, sipping his tea as he glanced toward the empty chair where his eldest daughter should have been.

It was not unusual for Y/N to be late, her love for dancing often made her lose track of time. But missing breakfast entirely? That was something new. The answer to her absence, however, was made obvious by the small orange bundle curled up on her chair. Little Leon sat proudly in the eldest princess’ place, his tiny tail swaying as he waited expectantly for his own meal to be prepared. One of the maids dutifully set down a small plate of fresh fish before him, which he sniffed at before letting out a soft meow of approval.

"She’s in the gardens again, isn’t she?" Princess Janessa, mused aloud.

"Of course…" Princess Ashlyn chuckled. "You saw how she was last night, practically glowing after Ser Pero gave her those new ballet shoes." At the mention of the soldier’s name, a few of the sisters giggled knowingly.

King Randolph listened quietly, a small smile forming on his lips. He was no fool, he had seen the way Y/N and Pero looked at each other. A man like Pero Tovar, hardened by war and the burdens of life, gazing at his daughter as though she were the brightest star in the sky. And Y/N, though full of grace and independence, allows herself to be vulnerable in his presence.

Love was brewing between them, and it was clear to anyone paying attention.

With a sigh, King Randolph set down his teacup. "If she wishes to dance, then let her." He said fondly. "She has always followed her heart, and I will not be the one to stop her now." The sisters exchanged knowing smiles before continuing their meal, while Little Leon finished his breakfast and stretched lazily, ready to return to his beloved owner.

Meanwhile, in the garden fountains, Princess Y/N was already lost in her world of movement.

The soft rustling of leaves, the distant chirping of birds, and the gentle flow of water from the fountains all served as the perfect symphony to accompany her steps. She spun effortlessly on the tips of her toes, her long hair flowing behind her, catching the morning sunlight like strands of gold. Her new ballet shoes felt weightless against the cobbled stone, fitting her feet as though they had been crafted by the heavens themselves. Her heart swelled with joy. Pero had made these for her. Every stitch, every detail, it had all come from his hands.

And she would dance for him.

She closed her eyes, letting herself move with complete freedom, imagining his warm brown eyes watching her. But what she did not realize was that her imagination was not far from reality.

Standing by the garden’s entrance, leaning against a stone pillar with his arms crossed, was Pero Tovar. He had come outside in search of some peace and quiet, only to find himself unable to move, unable to look away as he watched her.

God, she was beautiful.

His beautiful little dancing princess.

-----

The morning sun spilled golden light through the towering stained-glass windows of Lovelei Castle, casting vibrant hues across the grand dining hall. Pero Tovar sat stiffly in a high-backed chair, feeling entirely out of place in the elegant setting. Before him, the long, polished mahogany table was set with delicate porcelain teacups, a gleaming silver tray of pastries, and a steaming pot of tea with the royal insignia etched into its side. Across from him, King Randolph Lovelei sat with an air of quiet authority, his hands folded atop the table. His eyes, aged yet sharp, studied him with an expression that the soldier couldn’t quite read.

The Spaniard had faced death countless times before. He had fought off monstrous beasts on the Great Wall, stood against armies of men far stronger than himself, and had survived the cruelest of battles. But somehow, none of that compared to the sheer weight pressing on his chest as he sat across from Princess Y/N’s father.

A servant poured their tea, the clink of china the only sound filling the heavy silence. Then at last, King Randolph spoke. “Tell me, Ser Pero Tovar.” The king said, his voice calm yet firm. “What are your intentions with my daughter?”

The question nearly made Pero choke on his tea. He swallowed thickly, setting his cup down with a clatter before wiping his palms against his trousers. There was no point in lying. He was a man of many things, some good, some bad, but he was not one to dance around the truth. He would rather face this head-on. Taking a steadying breath, he looked the king in the eye. “I love her.”

The words were gruff, spoken with raw sincerity. “I love her more than I have ever loved anything in this world.”

King Randolph remained silent, watching him intently.

Pero exhaled, running a hand over his beard before continuing. “I know what I am. I’m a soldier. A mercenary. A man who has lived his life by the sword, not by courtly manners or noble titles. She is a princess, royal, graceful, and far too good for the likes of me.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “That is why I haven’t told her how I feel. Because… what right do I have to love someone like her?”

For a moment, the room was still.

Then, unexpectedly, the king let out a soft chuckle.

The Spaniard blinked, caught off guard.

“You remind me of myself when I was younger.” King Randolph mused, taking a sip of his tea. “When I fell in love with my daughters’ mother, she was a noblewoman of the highest standing. And I? I was only the second son of a lesser king, a man not meant for the throne.” He smiled faintly, lost in memory. “I, too, believed I was unworthy of her. But do you know what she told me?”

The mercenary shook his head, listening intently.

“She said that love is not a matter of status or birthright.” The king continued. “It is a choice. A bond. And it is one that Y/N should be allowed to make for herself.”

Pero sat still, his heart pounding at the king’s words.

“I have watched you, Ser Pero.” Randolph said, his expression softening. “I have seen the way my daughter looks at you, and the way you look at her. If I had any doubt that your feelings were not true, we would not be having this conversation.”

The Spaniard swallowed, feeling an unfamiliar tightness in his chest.

“Do you wish to be with her?” The king asked, his tone quieter now, but no less serious.

“…More than anything.” Pero softly admitted.

King Randolph nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. Then, with a small, knowing smile, he added, “Then perhaps it is time you tell her.”

Pero’s breath hitched. He had faced many battles, but this, confessing his feelings to Princess Y/N, felt like the greatest challenge of all. Still, as he looked at the king, seeing the understanding in his eyes, a flicker of hope began to bloom in his chest.

Perhaps, just perhaps, he was worthy of her love after all.

-----

The warm glow of the afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows of King Randolph Lovelei’s study, casting golden light upon the grand chessboard that sat between him and his eldest daughter. The air was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fireplace and the soft clink of chess pieces being moved across the board.

Princess Y/N, perched elegantly on her seat, studied the game with unwavering focus. Her long, golden hair cascaded down her back, a few strands falling over her shoulder as she pondered her next move. She had always loved these moments with her father, these quiet games of wit and strategy where words were not needed, yet so much could be conveyed.

But today, something felt different.

King Randolph leaned back in his chair, an amused glint in his eyes as he regarded his daughter. “You seem distracted, my dear.”

Y/N blinked, quickly moving a bishop across the board. “Not at all, Father.”

The king chuckled, stroking his beard. “Oh? So I suppose it was a mere coincidence that you just sacrificed your knight so recklessly?”

She stiffened, only now realizing her mistake. Her father rarely called out her errors, unless, of course, he had an ulterior motive. The princess sighed, rubbing her temples before glancing at her father with mild suspicion. “You did not call me here just for a game of chess, did you?”

King Randolph smiled knowingly. “No, I did not.” He carefully moved his queen forward. “Tell me, Y/N… what do you think of Pero Tovar?”

The princess’ hand froze just as she was about to reach for her rook. Her heart skipped a beat, embarrassment began filling her chest. “P-Pero?” She stammered, clearing her throat. “What about him?”

The king rested his chin upon his hand, studying her intently. “He is an interesting man, wouldn’t you say? Rough around the edges, but loyal. And quite taken with you, it seems.”

Y/N immediately widens her eyes at his implications. “Father!”

“What?” King Randolph chuckled, thoroughly enjoying the rare sight of his poised and graceful daughter becoming so flustered. “I merely observed how he watches you, how he follows you into those gardens of yours without hesitation. It is quite the sight, really.”

The eldest princess quickly busied herself by adjusting one of her chess pieces, avoiding her father’s gaze. She knew she could not lie to him. He had always seen through her easily.

“…He is a good man.” She admitted quietly. “Far better than he believes himself to be.”

The king hummed, seemingly pleased with her answer. “And do you care for him?”

She hesitated, her fingers lightly tracing the edges of the rook she was about to move. Then, with a soft, almost wistful smile, she whispered, “Yes.”

King Randolph’s gaze softened. He had suspected as much, but hearing the confirmation from her own lips filled him with a strange sense of both pride and nostalgia. “You know, my dear.” He said, moving his king to safety. “Your mother once told me that love is not something dictated by blood or birthright, it is a bond, a choice.” He met her gaze. “I have seen the way you look at him. And if he is the one who makes your heart dance, then you should not let anything stand in your way.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. Her father had always encouraged her freedom, but to hear him speak so openly about her feelings left her overwhelmed. “…What if he does not feel the same?” She asked, almost afraid of the answer.

King Randolph smiled, eyes twinkling with quiet amusement. “Oh, I would not worry about that.”

The princess frowned slightly, sensing something unsaid in his words. “What do you mean?”

The king simply moved his final piece and leaned back in satisfaction.

“Checkmate.”

-----

The afternoon sun bathed the Lovelei Castle gardens in a warm golden hue, casting shimmering reflections upon the clear waters of the grand fountain. A gentle breeze carried the soft fragrance of blooming roses and fresh earth, making the entire scene feel like something out of a dream.

Princess Y/N Lovelei sat gracefully at the fountain’s edge, her fingers delicately fastening the satin ribbons of the ballet shoes Pero Tovar had gifted her on her birthday. The shoes fit perfectly, molding to her feet like they were made just for her, which, in truth, they were. With a deep breath, she rose to her feet and took her place in the center of the stone platform that extended over the water. The moment she stepped into position, all thoughts melted away. There was only the rhythm of her heartbeat, the soft whisper of the wind, and the memory of countless dances before this one.

And so, she began to move.

Her body twisted and flowed like water, each movement an effortless extension of her soul. She leaped, spun, and twirled, her dress billowing like the petals of a flower in full bloom. The ribbons of her new ballet shoes trailed behind her, painting invisible strokes against the air.

It was only when she landed from a particularly graceful spin that she noticed him.

Standing at the garden’s archway, arms crossed over his broad chest, was Pero Tovar. His dark eyes were locked onto her, admiration clear in their depths. He said nothing, but his expression spoke volumes.

Y/N felt a warm smile spread across her face. Without hesitation, she extended her hand toward him, an unspoken invitation hanging in the air between them.

For a brief moment, Pero hesitated. He always felt out of place in such an elegant world, especially in hers. But the way she looked at him, as though he belonged here just as much as she did, made it impossible to refuse.

With a deep exhale, he strode forward.

The eldest princess’ heart fluttered as he reached for her hand, his rough, calloused fingers wrapping around hers with surprising gentleness. She gave him a reassuring squeeze before guiding him onto the platform.

He knew the steps well by now, after all, she had spent countless afternoons teaching him. Pero might not have been the most refined dancer, but he always caught her when she twirled, always following her lead with unwavering trust.

And so they danced.

The Spaniard spun the princess effortlessly, and she laughed as he lifted her slightly off the ground before letting her feet touch the stone once more. Their movements were not perfect, but together, they created something beautiful. Something uniquely theirs.

As the dance slowed, Y/N found herself pressed close against Pero’s chest, his arms securely wrapped around her waist. Their breaths were heavy, but neither pulled away.

“You wear them well.” Pero finally murmured, his voice rough yet filled with something soft. His gaze flickered down to her ballet shoes.

She tilted her head, smiling up at him. “I treasure them.”

Their eyes met, and in that moment, it felt as though the entire world had faded away, leaving only the two of them beneath the golden afternoon sky. The world around them stilled. The gentle rustling of the trees, the distant chirping of birds, the trickling of the fountain’s water, all of it faded into quiet nothingness as Pero Tovar held Princess Y/N Lovelei close in his arms.

Their dance had left them breathless, their hearts pounding in unison. His strong arms remained securely wrapped around her waist, unwilling to let go, while her delicate fingers rested lightly against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. Their foreheads pressed together, eyes fluttering shut as they relished the moment. The warmth of their closeness, the rhythmic cadence of their breaths mingling, it was intoxicating, overwhelming in the most beautiful way.

Pero had never known such tenderness. His life had been filled with battles and hardships, with bloodied hands and weary nights. Yet here, in the arms of the Lovelei princess, he felt something he never thought possible.

Peace.

And then, just like that, Y/N tilted her head ever so slightly and stood on the tips of her toes.

Before he could react, her lips brushed against his in a soft, feather-light kiss.

The mercenary froze. His breath hitched, his grip on her tightening instinctively as though afraid she might disappear if he moved too fast. It was a kiss so pure, so sweet, it sent shivers down his spine.

When she pulled away, her brilliant gentle eyes gazed up at him with both nervousness and longing, her lips stretched in a small shy smile.

Pero could not help himself.

A low growl rumbled in his throat as he pulled her even closer, one arm tightening around her waist, the other cradling the back of her head. Before she could even take another breath, his lips crashed against hers once more, this time filled with all the passion he had been holding back for so long.

Y/N gasped into the kiss, her fingers instinctively gripping onto the fabric of his tunic. Pero took the opportunity to deepen the embrace, his lips moving with a desperate fervor, pouring everything he felt into her, his admiration, his devotion, his love.

It was raw. It was real. It was everything.

She melted against him, her hands sliding up to wrap around his neck as he held her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

And in that moment, to Pero Tovar, she truly was.

The Lovelei Castle gardens, which had once only been witness to the princess’s elegant dances, now bore witness to something far greater.

The beginning of a love that neither war nor status could ever hope to break.

#barbie #my heart #tears of joy #x fem!reader

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myhohastuff · 9 months ago

Text

This is soooooo *chefs kiss*

Tommy always makes me laugh in any story 😂

Twenty Years

Summary: Twenty years went by since the last time you saw Joel Miller. You never thought you would see him again, but on the day you finally broke free of David' clutches and saved a girl at the same time, he's just there, standing in front of you. When your daughter and her husband find you, urging you to leave, you offer to take Joel and Ellie with you, knowing you have to talk to him. About the two of you. And about your daughter.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Rating: M

Wordcount: 6k

Warnings: pre + post outbreak, angst, implied smut, implied and mentions of sexual assault (I kept it pretty vague but it is happening, readers discretion is advised), David (needs his own waring, he talks about child brides and what he wants to do to them), religious bullshit, threats, lies about medical conditions, violence, blood, death, Joel not knowing he has another daughter, pregnancy, more angst, infected wounds, medication, some fluff, talking about feelings, talking about dreams, some kisses, cockblock Tommy Miller, happy end

A/N: Dunno what happened but I wrote all of this in the last 6 hours. Please read the warnings, If I forgot something in the warnings please let me know

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

At one o’clock on the dot the door opened, a stream of dusty sweaty man walking into the diner you were working in. It wasn’t your dream job, but it kept the bills paid while you were in night school to get your business degree.

And… it had its perks.

Like being located across the street of a huge construction side. The building that had been there before had been demolished almost a year before, making place for a new building. A mall. Or… whatever. It’s not like you cared.

With the construction side came a lot of workers taking their break in the diner.

With them came a frequent flow of tips into your pocket.

With them came Joel Miller.

You did not even notice him in the beginning which was the biggest fucking mystery to you. Because he was…. He was attractive, broad shoulders, dark hair and eyes. Always wearing a shirt that hugged his chest like a second skin. And then there were the days he was wearing flannel….

The whole construction worker look was really working for you.

Yet it took him calling out one of his co-workers (employees you would learn later, because he was the boss) from flirting on the verge of making you uncomfortable with you, to make you notice him.

You had insisted on getting him his lunch on the house and he wasn’t having it. At all. You caught his eyes outside when you saw the bills tucked under his mug when you were cleaning the table, making you grin as you shook your head.

He had winked at you with a boyish smile around his lips and that was all it took to start your crush on Joel Miller.

Joel Miller who after that always seemed to linger a little longer in the diner to talk to you. To tell you about his daughter. To ask you about you and your life with that southern drawl that made you want to kiss the spot on his cheek that seemed too stubborn to grow any hair.

If you had known back then that only three months later the world as you knew it would end, you maybe wouldn’t have wasted so much time in confessing your feelings to him.

Or… at all.

Maybe you would have asked him to stay when in a very drunken mistake you both ended up in your bed, fucking until you couldn’t remember your name just the night before the world fell apart.

Maybe things would be different for you now.

You blinked a couple of times, getting rid of the mental picture of Joel Miller smirking at you as the door opened.

“Come on, he’s waiting,” a gruff voice said and you nodded.

You were at a point where you were asking yourself if doing this just to survive in this hell of a world was worth it. If running, even if you would die trying was the better choice.

Yet you knew you weren’t doing this for your own life.

You were doing this to protect her.

And you would keep surviving and protecting her until you took your very last breath.

The day you walked into a group of men in the woods almost ten years after the outbreak you were too desperate for help to question their offer of shelter and food.

You and your ten year old daughter Hannah had been on the run for months after your settlement had been overrun by infected, only making it out alive barely. With winter being in full swing for the last two weeks you were getting desperate to find a place to stay for you and your daughter.

Maybe if you wouldn’t have been severely dehydrated and starved you would have seen the way David’s gaze had lingered on Hannah too long to be just out of concern.

Maybe you could somehow have gotten far away from Silver Lake until it was too late.

Maybe you wouldn’t have spend the last years feeling like a cheap whore whenever David summoned you to his room to give you absolution for your sins while he rutted into you from behind before throwing you out like trash.

David, you learned quickly, was a psychotic maniac pedophile who masked his sick intentions with the word of god.

It was a week after you arrived, that he let the facade slip and told you about his true intentions for taking you in.

He wanted Hannah, as his bride.

You were too stunned to speak as he kept going on that she was the one he had been waiting for and you were so lucky to have birthed the perfect girl that would bring whatever the fuck he needed to make this settlement more powerful and his followers happier.

When you offered to take her place he only laughed, marking you as impure since you had her out of wedlock and her father was most likely dead. You weren't pure enough to have children with. He wasn’t asking, he would be taking Hannah and if you would trouble him, he would kill you.

When it became clear that he was serious about this, you made up the lie that Hannah would never be able to give him any children due to a birth defect that left her without ovaries.

You didn’t think he’d believe you at first, his cold eyes calculating before he hummed, telling you that he did find it odd that a girl in her age did not have her period yet.

You by then knew that one, he had no idea about the female body and two, he had actually spoken to Hannah about it.

He had left you in your room for a whole week after that. Alone. Without the opportunity to see your own child.

And when he came to see you it was only to inform you that Hannah’s condition had been confirmed to be much worse, leaving her unable to perform her wifely duties by his most trusted doctor in town and that he now had to find another use for the two of you.

Still occupied with the horror of what these people had done to your daughter you were to stunned to speak when he slapped you across the face, before he turned you around and pulled at your pants, his lips against your ear as he towered behind you, informing you that if he couldn’t have the useless cunt of your child, he would have yours as a substitute.

Because that was all a woman was.

A warm cunt.

Something was different today.

You hadn’t been able to see Hannah, even though every Tuesday you were allowed to visit her and her new husband at their home.

If Silver Lake had brought anything good since you gotten here, it was Hannah having been put in the house of the town doctor. The doctor, Carl, had been in his early forties when you met first.

You hadn’t been allowed to leave your room at first but David, showing you (or more like his followers) his good grace, had allowed for Hannah to visit you twice a week for an hour under the supervision of the town doctor Carl who she was living with.

As helpless as you felt in your situation you were so happy that you had Hannah back, crying in your arms. From the day she was born the both of you hadn’t been separated, so of course she was scared and missed you and your heart broke for the mess you put the both of you in.

You only noticed the man who had brought her here after minutes, your eyes hardening, putting Hannah behind your back to lash out at him for touching your daughter when he told you in quiet harsh whispered words to listen to him.

That he was the one who confirmed your lies about Hannah’s condition, and that he made them sound so bad that she became uninteresting for David. That he offered to take her and even you in. While he was allowed to take Hannah, you would remain in David’s place for his… needs. Something Carl would work on changing but needing time for it.

His own daughter had been taken by David when she turned twelve before she just disappeared and he wanted nothing more than to take him down, but it was difficult due to the hierarchy in town and how delusional the towns people were to everything that David told them.

He was no fighter, he had been here in this resort on vacation with his family when the outbreak happened. He had no immediate way of helping you, but he could help keep Hannah safe.

And he did.

Hannah grew into a beautiful young woman, soaking everything up Carl thought to her and his son Jamie. She was doing better stitches than Carl himself when she was only fourteen years old, not that anyone knew about it.

Women weren’t allowed to learn and work in this town.

But Carl trained his son Jamie to become a doctor, and if Hannah was in the same room? He could not stop her form listening and learning, could he?

The longer you were in Silver Lake, the more freedom you carved for yourself. It took almost two years after you arrived for you to not lash out and be punished for whatever the fuck David and his goons thought you did wrong.

By now, you were playing the perfect little mistress, shamed by big parts of town when you walked down the street, silently thanked by the woman who had young daughters and now did not have to fear them getting taken once they hit a certain age.

It was the only way you could endure David’s hands on you.

Knowing that whenever he was occupied with whatever sick fantasy he had in his head with you, he had less time to lure on little girls.

You were doing so good you were even allowed to attend the wedding of Hannah and Jamie only last month, the two of them having fallen in love in the last year.

But today something was different.

Or maybe you were paranoid because you finally had a way of leaving this place.

You had to leave this place before David found out about not only your lie, but Carls because Hannah was pregnant.

Some of David’s men had been missing for some days now and David was preoccupied with figuring out what happened, and how to get his very hungry town fed.

Carl had told you early on to not eat any of the meat that was served, telling you that there was a reason people went missing during the winter with a long hard look. Something you and Hannah took to heart, having not eaten a single bit of meat since getting here.

With David being out, there was more time you could spend out of his house, leaving you to finally form a plan to leave this town. Through his connections Carl and two other men who wanted to leave had been able to trade some medical supplies for a car with a settlement a two day walk away.

You would leave in three days time and you hopped that nothing would happen until then.

You didn’t count in the very angry girl who ran into you on your way back to your room, blood splattered all over her face, eyes frantic.

„Let me goooo,“ she yelled at you when you put your hands on her shoulders.

She couldn’t be older than fourteen. You heard yelling behind her, pulling her with you inside your room.

„Slow down and shut up, they are gonna hear you,“ you whispered as you slowly closed the door behind you.

„Who the fuck are you?“ She whispered angrily.

„Doesn’t matter. Who are you?“

„Doesn’t matter,“ she snapped back. You took her appearance in, your eyes stopping at the cleaver she was gripping in her small hand, blood dripping from it’s blade.

„Was it David?“ You asked, nodding towards the cleaver.

„No. That sick fuck is somewhere out there. Are you with them?“ She asked, gripping the cleaver tighter.

„Not out of my own choice,“ you said as you walked past her. You got on your knees next to your bed, carefully getting under one of the floorboards, getting your knife out.

You heard her footsteps behind you as you reached inside again, getting the couple of baby pictures you had of Hannah out.

„Is someone with you?“ You asked her as you got back up and walked towards you dresser.

„My…. Friend. He’s… I don’t know of he’s… no he is… he’s out there,“ she said.

„Okay,“ you said before you got out of the shitty dress you had to wear and picked some pants and a sweatshirt.

„Sheesh lady,“ she whispered and you looked over your shoulder as she turned her back towards you embarrassed as you changed. You were pulling your boots on when she turned back around.

It was then that you noticed the smoke coming through the slit under the door.

Fire.

„Fuck. Okay. We gotta get out of there. You stay behind me, okay? If we run into someone, I will take care of them,“ you said, grabbing your backpack, putting it on.

„I can take care of myself,“ she said, face determined.

„And I don’t question that. But I have been stuck here for ten years. If anyone kills these people, it is me,“ you said.

She looked at you for a long moment, before she nodded. You turned around and searched for one of your lighter jackets you had not planned to take with you, but she was only wearing a shirt and it was still snowing outside. You approached her, holding the jacket out for her to take.

„Give me the cleaver,“ you said as she struggled to get it on.

She glared at you, before you held up a knife to trade. She sighed before she gave you the cleaver and you watched her put the jacket on before she snapped the knife from your hand.

You took a deep breath.

„Okay. Stay behind me. I am gonna get us out of here. Then we’re gonna get my daughter and get our of here,“ you said and her eyebrows went up.

„You have a daughter?“ She asked surprised, you nodded.

„Yeah. I have,“ you said before you opened the door.

When you heard his voice you gestured for the girl to hide behind the bar.

You had made it to the old tavern, smoke thick inside the room as the fire spread.

„You’re easy to track, Ellie,“ David said and you took one last look at the girl, Ellie, before you got up and stood to your full height, seeing the surprise on David’s face.

„What are you doing here after everything I did for you?“ He said with narrowed eyes and you laughed. Once.

„What you did for me? Enlighten me what you did for me apart form raping me whenever you felt like it and threaten to kill my daughter,“ you snarled and he rolled his eyes, before surprise lifted his eyebrows as he noticed the cleaver in your hand.

„She’s with you,“ he said before he turned away from you, walking towards the door. He reached into his pants pocked and used his keys to look the door before he put them back.

„If you want to get out of here, you gotta come here and get the keys. Either of you,“ he said a little louder and a small smile came to your lips.

„You think I haven’t waited for my chance to kill you?“ You asked as you approached him.

„Always knew I should have killed you. But I have a sweet spot for our dear little Hannah. She’s just so…. Innocent. Almost as innocent as Ellie. But she’s far stronger than your little broken girl. Ellie could have been what this town is missing. But she just had to kill all of my best men huh?“ David was still looking for Ellie, only half of his attention on you.

The fire was making it difficult to breathe. You had to get yourself and the girl out of here.

„Ah fuck,“ David groaned and you saw Ellie slip past him, her knife stabbing him in his neck before she hid in one of the front booths.

At this point David's focus was completely on finding Ellie, which you used to you advantage.

He was about to grab Ellie ankle, the girl screaming when you grabbed a chair and used it to hit him over the back of his head. He grunted, letting go of Ellie who crawled away. He fell and before David could blink you were on top of him punching his face.

And the fucker just laughed.

„Go on, kill me. I know you can’t,“ he mocked and you saw red.

The cleaver made contact with his shoulder first, making him groan in pain, eyes wide with surprise.

„You think I can’t kill you?“ You screamed.

„You think I haven’t dreamed about this since you took me hostage you fucking maniac?“ You felt his blood splash against your face as you brought the clover down again and again and again.

He was barely breathing by the time you stopped, his eyes wide in what you were sure was fear as he looked at you.

„I am gonna kill you. And then I am going to take my pregnant daughter away from here,“ you spit down at him, before you brought the cleaver down one last time, killing him for good.

With shaky fingers you reached inside his pants, searching for the keys.

„Ellie!“ You yelled and the girl came out of hiding, eyes wide with fear as he followed you to the door. You unlocked the door, coughing as fresh air filled your lungs, Ellie running past you.

Closing your eyes, allowing yourself a second to fill your lungs with fresh air you startled when you heard the girl scream.

„NO! Don’t fucking touch me!“ She yelled and you snapped your head around, seeing a man with his arms around her, pulling her against his chest.

You saw red, running towards them.

„Shhhh…. Ellie stop. Stop. It’s me,“ the man said grabbing her face. You slowed down, the cleaver still in your hand.

„He tried to… He tried to….“ Ellie stammered and you closed your eyes, releasing a shaky breath.

„Oh babygirl. It’s okay. It’s okay now,“ the man said and Ellie sobbed against him as he pulled her even closer.

It was then that he noticed you standing there, eyes narrowing as he put Ellie behind him.

When you could see his full face for the first time it was like you forgot how to breathe.

„Joel?“ You whispered in disbelief. He narrowed his eyes, about to approach you when there was a crash in the burning building behind you, making you jump.

„Mom!“ You heard Hannah yell and you turned your head to the side to watching your daughter run towards you, her husband Jamie close behind.

Her eyes widened as she looked at you, and you had forgotten that you probably looked like straight out of a nightmare with blood all over you.

„Oh my god mom,“ she cried when she reached you, her hands brushing all over your face.

„Not my blood,“ you mumbled, giving her a small smile before you looked at the man who was standing behind her, still looking at you, as if trying to figure out who you were.

„We gotta get out of here. They are gonna come after us,“ Jamie said as he reached you, his hand taking Hannah’s.

It was in that moment that Joel said your name. And everyone turned their heads towards him, Ellie now next to him, one of his arms keeping her to his side.

His eyes were on you, before he looked at Hannah who had turned around, pistol raised at him. He looked between you and Hannah for what felt like minutes.

You knew what he saw. And you could see the moment he realised who was standing in front of him.

Hannah was the spitting image of him. She had his eyes and his dark curly hair.

„Joel….“ You said, taking a step towards him but Jamie stopped you while Hannah looked at you with wide eyes.

„Joel?“ She asked and you looked at her and nodded. She knew who her father was. You had talked about him a lot when she was little.

„We don’t have time for that. We gotta get out of here,“ Jamie repeated and you looked at him.

„Where is Carl?“ You asked and Jamie only shook his head lips tight, instant tears filling your eyes. You blinked them away, before you took a deep breath.

„Okay. Okay. We gotta leave. You can come with us,“ you said towards Ellie and Joel. The latter shaking his head, while Jamie protested.

„She saved me, Joel,“ Ellie said quietly and he closed his eyes, releasing a long breath. You only looked at Jamie who was about to argue with you when he saw the pleading look Hannah gave him.

„Okay fine. But we gotta leave. Now.“

Joel hadn’t said more than two sentences towards you, Hannah and Jamie since you made it to the spot Carl had set up two days later. There was supposed to be a car stashed there, but it was gone and Jamie was trying to figure out what to do next.

Night time was approaching and you were tired.

„We should settle down close to the lake and decide what to do in the morning. No point walking through the night, when we do not have any clue where to go,“ you said.

„We have to get further away. I can’t risk them coming after us,“ Jamie insisted.

„Jamie, we lit the whole fucking town on fire two days ago. If anyone survives, do you think they don’t have something better to so than to come after us?“ You snapped, patience wearing thin.

„Do whatever the fuck you want, but I need to wash off David’s blood. I never want to ever be thinking about him again,“ you said, suddenly irritated as you made your way down to the shore of the small lake you had found.

„She’s mine isn’t she?“ You were startled by Joel’s voice as you sat at the shore, dressed in fresh clothes you had brought, clean from all the blood and dirt.

You didn’t turn around to look at him.

„Yeah,“ you said and you heard him breath in deeply.

„Fuck,“ he whispered and you couldn’t help but chuckle. You felt him sit down next to you and you risked a glance at him.

He was older, you were too.

The last twenty years hadn’t been kind to either of you, but you were pretty sure Joel was even more attractive than back when you met for the first time.

And he still had that stubborn spot that grew no hair on his cheek.

But he looked tired.

You just sat beside each other, watching the sun set behind the lake, the sky turning pink.

„Never thought I’d see you again,“ he said and you smiled sadly.

„Was’t even sure you’d remember me,“ you said and he scoffed.

„Really hard to not remember you, darlin’“ he said and you turned your head to look at him fully, giving him a small smile.

„Likewise, Cowboy,“ you said and he chuckled, before he flinched.

„You okay?“ You said concerned.

„Yeah. Got stabbed some days ago by one of these lunatics in town,“ he said, pointing towards his belly.

„Can I… Can I see?“ You asked.

He shrugged, before he laid down. As soon as you laid eyes on his wound you knew something was wrong. It was red and irritated.

„I don’t think that look too good, Joel,“ you said with concern.

„Survived worse,“ he said as he pulled his shirt down.

„I’m sure you have but….“

„I’m okay. Promise,“ he said.

You let it go for the moment and looked away from him as he sat himself up with a groan.

„Was planning to ask you out officially the next day, you know,“ he said after a while and you sighed.

„I would have said yes,“ you whispered into the darkness as you let your head all against his shoulder.

As it turned out Joel was indeed not okay.

All of you decided the next day that you would make your way to Jackson, the town Joel had told you about. It would be at least a week by foot and you were not looking forward to being on the road that long with the snow coming down like that.

He used the time on the road to tell Ellie everything (Hannah is your daughter? No way, she’s way too cool to be your kid) and got to know Hannah. He talked to Jamie and let them tell him their story. He also talked to you, but every time he asked about how you ended up in Silver Lake and what happened after you closed up and walked away from him.

You weren’t ready to talk about that. You weren’t sure you were ever ready to talk about that.

It was on day five that Joel had issues waking up.

You had taken watch over for him when you couldn’t wake him up. You thought he was tired, him having taken watch every night since you left. Now it was morning and you could see that he was sweating. Carefully reaching up you touched his forehead, feeling him burning up.

„Mom?“ You heard Hannah.

„He’s burning up,“ you said quietly, not wanting to disturb Ellie who was still sleeping. Hannah came to kneel down beside him, feeling it herself.

„He got stabbed by the men David sent out to the university last week. He said he was fine…“ you said and she nodded.

„I have to see the wound,“ she said. You nodded as he got up to her feet, walking over towards Jamie, waking him up. They both came and knelt beside Joel, Jamie already reaching for his fathers backpack he had managed to take, full of medical supplies.

„Oh shit,“ Hannah said as you had Joel’s belly exposed, her hands also reaching into the backpack to get some supplies.

It looked worse. Much worse.

„It’s infected. We gotta open up the stitches. Here, grab this,“ Jamie said towards Hannah. You let the two of them work while you held Joel’s hand.

Not fifteen minutes later Jamie injected some antibiotics into Joel’s arm while Hannah wrapped his wound.

„There’s nothing more we can do. He needs rest and medication,“ Jamie said and you nodded. It was then that Ellie woke up, immediately concerned as she saw you all kneeling next to Joel.

„Is he dead?“ She asked and you shook your head.

„No. But he needs rest. The stab wound got infected,“ you explained and she sucked her bottom lip in, nervously.

„Ellie, do you think you can find the way to Jackson to get help?“ You asked.

„No,“ Hannah said, shaking her head.

„I think I can. We just gotta find the huge lake. It should be close by now. It was three or four days until Jackson once we found the lake,“ Ellie said, ignoring her.

You nodded.

„I want you, Hannah and Jamie to get to Jackson as quickly as possible and get help. We need something to help get Joel back to Jackson. I will wait here. Jamie can show me how to tend to the wound and how to get him the antibiotics,“ you said.

Hannah shook her head.

„You don’t have any supplies. We can’t just leave you here,“ she said.

„And you can’t just stay here and wait until he gets better,“ the if he gets better was implied with the way you looked at her. She had tears in her eyes and you gave her a small smile.

„You have not only yourself to think about anymore, Hannah. You need to get to safety too,“ you reached towards her belly and she released a shuddering breath.

„Oh shit,“ Ellie said with wide eyes as she realised what you meant and Jamie chuckled.

„I don’t like this,“ Hannah mumbled.

„Me neither. But I’ll survive a week out here. We’re close to water, you saw the stream yesterday, I can hunt, and we saw this abandoned cabin not far away from here. We could get back to it, clear it, and I’ll wait for you there until you can get back. It’s gonna be okay,“ you promised.

You looked at Jamie who nodded at you, and reached for Hannah.

„We’ll get your Dad some help so you can get to know him,“ he whispered and you smiled at them both.

„Well let’s fucking go to the lake of death then!“ Ellie said and you all frowned.

„It’s… It’s a joke. I swear,“ she said.

Joel was in and out of consciousness for four days before he woke up for longer period of times during the day. He told you it was stupid to stay back with I’m and not leave with the kids and you only told him that you weren’t ready to leave him again.

You feel asleep in his arms that night, allowing yourself to let your guard down, passing out almost immediately when he told you that he got you. That he’d stay awake.

The following days went buy slowly. You continued taking care of Joel, his wound looking much better. You went hunting, coming back with some rabbits. Joel was on his feet by day six, taking slow walks with you towards the stream where he washed up.

And you talked.

You talked about everything that happened since the day you parted.

You learned about Sarah’s death, holding him as he shed some tears. You learned how he changed, how he did things he was not proud of to keep bis brother safe. You learned about how Ellie who he had been trusted to take to a group called the fireflies slowly brought back his old self.

You in return told him about finding out that you were pregnant while you were in the temporal Austin QZ. About how you gave birth to Hannah the day before the QZ fell, leaving you on the road with a new born until you found a settlement when Hannah was almost a year old close to Denver where you stayed until it was overrun by infected.

You showed him the few pictures of her as a baby you had, drying his tears as he looked at them.

You told him in as few words as possible what happened in the years you were at Silver Lake, seeing him angry on your behalf.

You woke up on the seventh day with his arm around your back, both of your laying on your side, facing each other. He was already looking at you when you opened your eyes, giving you a soft smile.

And before you could stop yourself you closed the distance between the two of you, pressing your lips against his in a soft kiss. Resting your forehead against his you closed your eyes, one of your hands brushing through his hair.

„Sometimes I allowed myself to dream what would have become of us if the outbreak hadn’t happened,“ he whispered.

„And what happened to us in those dreams?“ You asked, opening your eyes. He kissed you again, humming.

„We would have dated for seven months before I popped the question,“ he said.

„Why seven months?“ You asked.

„It’s my lucky number,“ he mumbled and you chuckled.

„Sarah would have loved you. We would have gotten married, her as the flower girl. We would have gotten a bigger house, cause I’d have you pregnant by the time we were married,“ he said with a small smile.

„Would have had at least two kids more before you said you were done and I would have gotten the snip so I could still fuck you everywhere without getting you pregnant again,“ he said and kissed your nosed.

„Lots of baby making in your dreams, Miller,“ you teased and he laughed.

„I’m only a man, what can I say?“ He shrugged before he kissed you again, deepening the kiss.

„You still have that piercing down there?“ He mumbled against your lips and a shudder ran down your body.

„Why don’t you find out?“ You whispered, feeling him smile as one of his hand made their way down your body, his fingertips slipping over your stomach. He was about to push his fingers further down when a noise outside startled you, making you jump up and grab your knife.

„Joel!“ You heard a voice yell outside and you relaxed.

„In here, Tommy,“ Joel yelled back, giving you a sheepish expression before the door opened and a man stepped inside, you hadn’t seen in twenty years.

Tommy lowered his gun as soon as he saw only you and Joel inside the cabin.

„Well fuck me, I never though I’d ever see the girl my brother was pining over like a teenager twenty years ago ever again,“ he said with a wide smile and you raised your eyebrow, looking at Joel who rolled his eyes, yet his cheeks seemed a little flushed.

Tommy hugged you tight before he let go and walked over to his brother. They were whispering with each other, when Jamie walked in.

„You’re okay?“ He asked.

You nodded, and he hugged you quickly.

„Left Hannah home. Can you believe it? We get our own house. With running water. Warm Water!“ He said, excited. You laughed, squeezing his shoulder.

You turned back to Joel, who was now standing next to Tommy.

„We got a long ride in front of us. Best we get back as quickly as we can,“ Tommy said.

"Gonna check his injury first, and then we can be on our way,“ Jamie said, already walking over to Joel.

„Can’t believe you’re here. Can’t believe I have another niece,“ Tommy said as you stepped outside with him after you gotten your coat and shoes on. He took your backpack from you, fastening it somewhere to one of the horses staying in front of you.

„I can’t believe it either,“ you said.

„Can’t believe Joel’s gonna be a granddad,“ Tommy chuckled and you did too.

„Fuck I’m gonna be a grandma,“ you groaned, feeling every year of your age.

„Also gonna be an aunt. Wife is due in the next two weeks. So we better get the fuck back before she skins me alive,“ he said and you nodded.

You turned back when you heard Joel and Jaime talk, the latter helping Joel down the stairs.

„You good to ride?“ Tommy asks his brother. He nodded.

„Might need a little help getting up on the horse though,“ he said. Tommy nodded, walking over towards the third horse that you were standing in front of.

„You riding with me?“ Joel asked.

You nodded.

„Sure,“ you said. It took some help, but you got on top of the horse, having never been on one before. You didn’t know what to do, already freaking out a little, when Tommy and Jamie helped Joel on the horse behind you, his arms immediately coming around you, pulling you closer. He grabbed the reins, clicking his tongue once and the horse turned around.

You watched Jamie and Tommy get on their horses too before Tommy rode up on front.

„Gonna take us at least three days. Let’s get the fuck out of here,“ he said and rode forwards.

„Ready to go home?“ Joel whispered against your ear.

You let yourself rest against his shoulder, your head turning up so you could look at him.

„Haven’t had a home in twenty years,“ you said quietly.

„You have now,“ he hummed, kissing your temple before he moved the horse, following Tommy.

Home.

580 notes · View notes

myhohastuff · 10 months ago

Text

Mind my language…

HOLY FUCK THE END!!!

IT HAPPENED, IT HAPPENED!!

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc, Steven, Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Guilt, grief, angst, some self-harm tendencies

A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger last chapter aslhdlshl enjoy this one to compensate for it! This one feels.... All over the place I'm so sorry if it doesn't make any sense, y'all! 😭😭😭

Taglist: @bad4amficideas @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @lokisremainingsanity @mundivagantsoul @furblrwurblr @zoleea-exultant @latenightcravingz @daygirl26 @thelastemzy @leahnicole1219 @marsmallow433 @crazyunsexycool @oscarissac2099 @littlenosoul @animechick555 @capsiclesworldsblog @cloudroomblog @lov3vivian @princessakirika @fog-sama @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @badbishsblog @lillycore555 @stardream14 @meowmeowyoongles @kate-ohara @kittenlover614 @patchesofwork @enheduannasposts

Chapter 14:

Chaos

You woke up that morning crying. A stone settled in place of your heart, thudding around your ribcage to the point you felt pain.

Did he reject you? What was it he was so afraid of? Who was this "He" the boy mentioned? Why was he so scared to let you be close to him?

What was going on?

You wanted to scream, you wanted to hit something. But all you could manage to do was sob into Puck's velvet fur.

The feline sensed your discomfort, licking you with her sandpaper tongue, rubbing her head on your cheek in her best efforts to soothe you. You were aching from a wound you couldn't place, an injury you couldn't bandage.

Puck's tongue scraped the inside of your wrist, right where your soulmark was. It was still there. So it wasn't a rejection... a... a warning, maybe?

You felt the stone lurch from your heart and lodge itself into your throat. He was trying to protect you. From whatever he was afraid of, you were certain, but...

You were soulmates. You should be there for him, to make him feel safe. You couldn't do that when you were children; you lived such vastly different lives... But god damn it all, you needed to be there for him, now.

Your heart throbbed as Puck purred and rubbed her head over your mark. The top moon was full, today; whatever that meant, you still had no idea.

You only wish you knew his name.

You heaved a sigh. It was a rather slow day today. You weren't surprised.... it was beginning to get colder out. Sleet had crusted over into ice, so navigating sidewalks had become tricky.

Puck purred happily, content to snuggle in your wadded up sweater on the table by the door as she groomed herself.

"It must be nice to not have to worry about stuff like soulmates, bills, taxes..." You sigh, chin resting in your hand as you watched her simply exist in feline bliss. "You just sit there and lick your tummy and your little butt, eat your dreamies..." The cat didn't seem to pay any mind to your one-sided conversation.

Puck would occasionally turn from you (and her grooming) to look out the window. If you didn't know any better, you'd swear she was waiting for someone. But sadly, it looked as if nobody was to come into your shop, today. Nobody was interested in trekking out in the frigid conditions to buy an old musty romance novel.

Layla mentioned that she had some sort of important business to attend to here in London, so you knew that whatever it was was very likely more important than coming to hang around your shop and chat over tea or coffee.

You hadn't seen Jake in a while, Marc and Steven for longer. You were beginning to miss all three of them, they were the most interesting people you'd ever met; and you missed the enthusiastic conversations between you and Steven, the reserved talks with Marc over some stupid shows on the telly, even the silly conversations you'd have with Jake, asking what he was knitting or working on next...

Your routine had become droll, tiring... where it had been previously a joy to do, it has now become a tedious thing you wished you could pass to someone else for a little while. You looked down at your wrist after pulling up your sleeve, at your mark.

The top moon was full. The bottom right was a quarter full, and the one on the bottom left was practically a sliver. You wondered what that meant. Was it an emotional gauge? Was he upset? Happy? Sad?

God, all you wanted was to hold him, let him scream and cry his feelings out, let him just feel... safe and vulnerable, for once in his life without feeling like he was going to be abused for it afterwards. You wanted him to trust you, to know that you were never going to hurt him, but... He had been so abused that you weren't sure if he even knew how to trust anymore. At least not entirely.

And who was this "He" that he was talking about? Whoever it was, how could he possibly assume this "person" was sending you to torment him? How was that possible? Why was he so scared of him? Was he his current abuser or--

You almost jumped when the bell dinged, your hands slapping onto your counter as the chilly air washed in, drowning out the heating for a moment as it swung back closed.

Your eyebrows rose when you see...

"Marc?"

He spun, turning to face you, his eyes sunken, glassy, his hair not as styled as he usually kept it. He cleared his throat and straightened up, running a hand through the rebellious curls to smooth them out. (Yeah, that was not happening.)

"Uh--yeah. Hey." He said a little too quickly, rubbing his hands together; he looked at Puck, his eyes widening as the black little creature stood up, meowing loudly at him, hopping to balance herself on the back of the booth before nudging her head against his elbow. "I, uh..."

Your brows furrowed as you took in his rather... "wet poodle" state. His hair was messy not because he hadn't styled it, but because it was positively soaked. In fact... He was soaked. You could see the dark wet patches in his jacket and pants and shirt as he fumbled about nervously.

"Oh, my god! Marc!" You gasped, almost tripping yourself as you rushed over to him, a tea towel in hand as you began to pat his shoulders, "You're going to catch your death!"

"Oh, if only." He muttered, not looking you in the eyes. That statement caught you completely off-guard.

Something was... off. He didn't seem like himself, despondent--scatter-brained, even.

"Marc, that's not..." You shook your head, wiping some frigid droplets from his cheekbones. "Look, what were you doing? You're soaking wet, it's almost the dead of winter. You could get frostbite."

"I'm fine, uh--coffee." He babbled, his eyes finally tracking yours; the umber depths uneasy.

"Huh?"

"Oh, I mean... Can I please have some coffee? I--don't want to go to one of the cafes, today. Too crowded, to loud, too..."

"Overwhelming?" You supplied.

"Yeah, uh..." He watched as you laid the towel on his shoulder, walking around him to the front door of your shop. You flipped the sign in the door to "closed" and locked the door, "What are you doing?"

"Come on, I'm taking you up to my flat." You say, tugging his wet sleeve, "I know I have some sleep clothes that should fit you; you're going to get sick if you don't get out of those clothes! We can have coffee while your clothes are in the wash."

"But, I--but--" He stuttered as you closed the register, locking it as well and turning off the coffee pots off, too. You could live with it if you had to toss them; but you certainly didn't want to have to scour the pots because you let the coffee scorch when you walked away to tend to your friend.

"Oh, please." You snort at him, untying your apron and setting it on the counter. "Jake couldn't talk me out of dragging him up there, you sure won't."

Marc's head rocked back as you smiled, hands on hips. "Wait, what? Jake went to your... when did he--?"

"Couple weeks ago. Caught the dork trying to eat some pre-packaged meal for dinner." You shrug, "Dragged him back here and made him a proper meal."

"I... he, uh... he didn't mention that." Marc replied, mumbling as he rubbed at his arm, looking over at Puck, whom still continued to rub up against Marc.

He seemed... weirded out by the little cat. Puck liked him already, which made you happy. You'd hoped she would get along with Marc and Steven as well as she had with Jake; especially after that day where she attacked that poor student and clawed up your arms.

Marc squirmed, feeling like a bug under a microscope. He had been restless, ever since that last dream he'd had with... her. Something inside of him had been rubbed raw--painful. It always had him on a livewire; jumpy at a moment's notice.

As he opened his mouth, Puck leapt at him. Marc instinctively flailed at first, but then went to cradle her as she scrambled to nest in his arms. "I, uh... think she likes me."

You laughed, clapping your hands as you giggled, "Oh, yeah... I think she's got a little crush on you!"

Marc pursed his lips tightly, squirming once more as you tugged his sleeve, pulling him behind you to the back of your shop, through the winding labyrinth of bookshelves and to the door that led upstairs to your flat.

You smiled at him over your shoulder, "Relax, Marc. I'm not gonna kill you or anything."

He wasn't sure how it happened, why it happened, or even... Shit, where was he going with this?

All he knew was, that one minute he was walking--just... walking through the parks and streets of London, not bothering with an umbrella. The icy sleet had chilled and numbed him, as it often did when he ran away from home as a boy.

The icy weather of Chicago would soothe the burns, the cuts, the bruises--would numb the injuries so he didn't have to worry about them for the time being. His feet carried him, not knowing where he was going, or what awaited him when he finally stopped.

He hadn't even expected to wind up at your shop, but when he finally felt the pain creep into his fingertips; the frigid sensation of his hands beginning to lock up snapping him out of the spell of guilt he was drowning himself in. He was cold; and, well... he knew you had one of his favorite coffee flavors stocked, and would likely welcome some form of company on a slow and dreary day like today.

He didn't want to go back to the flat; the air in the place felt stifling. And with Layla taking the shift of daylight crime-fighting with Taweret for Khonshu, he didn't want to be alone.

Steven was just barely aware of what was going on, hardly even a fly on the wall at the moment. And he hadn't heard from Jake since that night he woke up with his hands wrapped around Layla's throat.

Marc was practically alone, today. And he didn't like that, not when he's been so upset. Steven was aware of the dreams he'd been having, and how Marc had scared off the woman in his dreams, forcing her out, pushing her away.

Steven had chewed him out majorly over it when he found out; lecturing Marc. That the poor woman didn't deserve to be rebutted without a reason, that she was likely confused and hurt... And Marc had to agree. They just couldn't risk that poor kind soul being swallowed into the darkness that had almost claimed him forever.

But he didn't want her to be drawn into this magical, gods-involved bullshit, too. He'd suffered enough when he let Layla get mired in this mess, he didn't want someone innocent and normal to suffer, too. Even if it hurt them.

And now, somehow... he was here. In your flat. That Jake had been in your home, too. A part of him wondered when exactly it happened, too. And what exactly transpired between you two.

A part of him was worried that you and Jake had slept together, and the thought almost enraged Marc. He wasn't sure why, but imagining Jake doing that to you, was... well. Let's just say he was happy to have his mind preoccupied with the small black cat in his lap, kneading his thighs through the fuzzy pajama pants he now wore.

The clothes you'd supplied him were pajamas you had bought on a whim at a thrift store. You hadn't had a chance to wear them after you bought them, so they sat in a drawer in your bedroom for the past month-and-a-half. They fit Marc almost perfectly, and he was grateful for that. He didn't exactly want to wear hot pink short-shorts with unicorn heads on them and a spaghetti strap.

He would have rather kept his soaked clothes, if you had insisted he wear something like that. He wanted to keep his dignity, thank you very much.

You set a fresh mug of coffee down on the table in front of him, grinning as you dropped onto the cushions next to him, "Your clothes are almost done in the wash. Then I can pop them into the dryer and you're all set."

"Thanks." Marc replied on a mutter, carefully leaning over to grab the mug and not displace little Puck. He'd already gotten a little attached to her. He wasn't allowed pets as boy; a rule of his father's because they might destroy the furniture. Sure, he had Gus n co., but he couldn't exactly pick up one of the pudgy goldfish and give them a pet, now could he?

"So," You said, sipping at your own mug and hoping to lighten the mood. "How was your trip?"

"My... trip?" Marc asked, sipping the bitter brew. He was thankful you'd left it black, with only a few lumps of sugar; especially since that was how he liked it.

"Yeah, Jake said you and Steven took a trip to the States. To show him around where you grew up? He mentioned that Steven had been curious about it for some time." You said, your brow quirking upwards curiously. "He said he and Layla stayed behind to... feed your fish?"

"Oh! Oh, right! That trip, uh..." He swallowed nervously. Of course Jake had to come up with an excuse as to why he and Steven had been "absent" the past few weeks. He couldn't exactly tell you that he needed to give his headmates a mental vacation from all their stress, hmm?

"It was... fine. Showed Steven some, uh--some baseball games, and some parks. He uhh... had fun in the museums."

"Of course he did," You chuckled with a shake of your head, "How was it for you? Did you two and... see your parents?"

Marc's jaw tensed, and for a moment you thought you'd overstepped your boundaries, pushed a button you shouldn't have as his hand shook slightly, the coffee sloshing bit by bit. Did something happen?

However, as quick as that shift in his demeanor appeared, if washed away like the sand being beaten back by the tide, and Marc was back to his previous self.

He shook his head, "Our, uh--my mom died a while ago. Had a bit of a falling out with my dad after that, so..."

"Oh, I'm sorry, honey, I didn't mean to..." You cringed, "I'm sorry."

Marc rolled his shoulder stiffly, a little perturbed when you called him "honey". He wasn't sure why it made him lightly uncomfortable, or made a tickle creep around in his belly like a spider frantically crawling around its web when prey was trapped within.

"It's fine. We're adults, and... Steven, Jake and I all respect each other's space, now." He sighed.

"I'm sorry you guys didn't get to grow up together."

Marc looked up at you from his mug to see you frowning into your own. Your eyes looked... tired. Exhausted. Was work getting that tiring for you? Had another rude bastard barged into your shop when he wasn't aware? If somebody laid a hand on you...

"It's fine." He said once again. "As long as... you know. We're together now, that's what really counts, right?"

"Yeah, you're family, right? It's good to keep them close." You say, locking eyes with him and smiling. He found himself smiling back, your energy infectious, and nodded.

"Yeah... Yeah."

You heard the phone by the door ring, and you groaned. Marc found the childish reaction a little endearing, and snorted softly when you apologized to go and answer it.

He sighed, setting his mug down and going to stroke Puck's fur. She stared past your open bedroom door, her fur standing on end. "Hey, hey, sweetie, what's wrong?" Marc asked the little cat. Something had her upset, and it had him wanting to coo to the animal, to stroke her chin and soothe her.

Until... he looked up. And saw exactly what was upsetting her.

There, perched at the edge of your bed, was Khonshu.

He tipped his head to the side, huffing in amusement. "I thought I'd find you here. I am not surprised. You are drawn to any sense of normality like water is to a sponge."

The dim light in your bedroom made him look spooky--the dreary daylight barely filtering into the room past the cracks in your curtains to cast rays across his body. His massive staff lay across his shoulder, his arm hanging on it casually. As if he had been her a number of times before.

Maybe he had. Marc had to wonder just how many times.

Marc chewed his bottom lip, looking at you. You had your back turned to him, chattering into the receiver at whomever was on the other end. His heart beat faster and faster.

When he looked back, Khonshu was standing over him, and Puck had her back arched, growling very lowly in her tiny throat.

No. No, no, no, no. Not here.

"I have been curious about her for some time, I must admit. Curious as to why you three seem to gravitate towards her."

No.

Not you.

"This fallacy is pathetic. You cannot have a normal life. Anyone you get close to is doomed to suffer." He stomped his staff on the floor, scaring Puck away to hide under the coffee table. "Leave this woman be, Marc."

"Go. Away." Marc hissed softly, standing up from the couch, his hand trembling and his jaw clenching. He wanted to shout, wanted to punch, wanted to knock his stupidly large beak askew. But he couldn't risk blowing it all out of the water in front of you...

His eyes kept flitting over to you, blissfully ignorant of the terrifying entity within your home. A place you should have been safe.

A place... that they--that he--had brought Khonshu into.

His fists clenched at each other, shaking as he tried to keep his rage in check. No. No, no, no. No!

"You cannot swat me aside like the fly you wish I was, Marc Spector." Khonshu leaned back, his head just barely brushing the ceiling. "You cannot lock me out of anywhere you do not wish me to be."

Puck hissed, yowling as she skittered out from her hiding place, to run over to you. She turned, facing Khonshu, her back arched and tail puffed out as she spit and hissed, swatting towards him.

"Pesky little creatures. I cannot stand them, sometimes. Must she always harass me when it suits her?" Khonshu growled, stomping over to where you were.

Marc immediately moved, his eyes wide and frantic as you turned around.

You couldn't see Khonshu, that much was obvious. But Puck could. You set the phone down and hung up, looking at your feline companion with confusion. Spotting Marc standing, his hands outstretched as if he were about grab something. You tilted your head to the side, smiling awkwardly as you reach down to pet Puck, but she spits and hissed, swatting at something that didn't seem to be there.

It couldn't be Marc, even if she was facing him. She had just been coiled up and snuggled in his lap for the past half hour! What on Earth could have triggered this?

"I... I'm sorry. The phone was, uh... A shipment I put a bid on, recently, and..." You say bashfully, rubbing the back of your neck, watching Puck. "I'm beginning to think my place might be haunted, ha ha... she's been staring off into space and growling at nothing, lately. Don't, uh, please don't take it personally?"

You began to babble, feeling a cold sweat erupt in your palms, rubbing them together. You weren't sure why there was so much tension in the air, the aura of it weighing down on your shoulders like a lead blanket.

"I, uh... ehm. I feel like maybe I should call a priest, right? Ha ha..."

You were completely unaware of the god looming down; so close to you that he would touch you if he reached out. And Marc knew he didn't want Khonshu's rotting, horrible hands to touch you. His robes flowed around you, curling and undulating on the floor like papery tentacles. One of his hands began to lift, almost gently curious as he reached for your hands.

"No! Get the hell away from her!" Marc shouted, rushing forwards to push you back, his bare feet slapping on the polished wood as he used his body to shield you, thrusting his hand out to ward off whatever it was he apparently saw.

Puck hissed, launching herself at Khonshu, hopping on her little paws to spit and hiss, making the deity growl and step back, looking down at Marc with what he could feel was a sense of superciliousness, superiority. "She will inevitably become wise to this, Marc. Do not try and keep her from me. It will end badly for you."

"Shut up, shut up!" Marc shouted, curling in on himself, slapping his head over and over. "No! No, no, no, no, no! Fuck you! You won't hurt her, too! She's our friend!"

You grasped Marc by the sleeve, disturbed by the scene unfolding in front of you, forcing him to turn towards you. "Marc! Marc, who are you talking to? What's wrong?"

"No! Stop..." Marc whimpered, watching out of the corners of his eyes as Puck continued to thrash at Khonshu, only serving to irritate the god into vanishing in a puff of mist. Puck growled lowly, walking in a little circle; checking to see if he was still hanging around.

"Marc? Marc, it's okay! What--"

"No, I can't stay here. This was a mistake." He choked, turning to make a dash for your front door, his hand wrapping around the knob, not even caring about his clothes still in your washer.

"I'm sorry..."

How could he be so stupid? Of course Khonshu would stalk him! Of course the old bastard would try to use you, the one normal thing in their lives against them! He should have known!

He did know, and still he made the stupid decision to get close to you; Jake, too, damn it! And now you were on his radar, now he would inevitably interfere with your life, put you in danger!

Why.

Why was the man known as Marc Spector such a curse on those around him?

Ever since he was a boy, he was a plague. He hurt people, even if he didn't intend to.

"Marc, stop!"

Your voice was drowned out by the pounding in his ears, his blood rushing like a waterfall.

(Marc, no!)

But before he could stop himself, halfway out of your flat, Steven surged within him, trying to project his gentle and calming influence into the frantic and fearful Marc.

It wasn't working.

"Marc!" You gasped as you watched him suddenly tense, jerk his head back a little, and seize, beginning to fall forwards with his eyes rolled back; towards your stairs. Instinctively, you reached out and gripped the back of his sleep shirt you'd let him wear, clinging to him with all your might as his body went limp and he began to stumble.

You were fast enough that you were able to haul him back, tumbling with a loud thump! to your floor, your tailbone now aching as you cradled an unconscious Marc.

Your chest ached; pain radiating through you. Half of you wanted to run and call 999; the other half demanded--no, screamed--that you check on your friend. Hefting him up a little to rest his head on your lap, Puck was right there, sitting on Marc's chest and staring at him with wide eyes, her ears flattened back and her tail tucked.

You grab his face, ignoring how your heart felt like it was about to explode. "Marc? Marc, talk to me!" You pleaded.

"Oh, please, please, please, please don't tell me you had a seizure and be dead!" You begged, beginning to tremble with hysteria as your eyes watered and burned. What happened? What had caused this outburst? Did he really have a seizure?

And thankfully, much to your relief, his eyes opened and he made a loud gasp, his back arching as he sat up straight, Puck fleeing to sit on the floor to stare at the both of you.

"Oh, thank god!" You cried, wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

"Oh, uh... oh, bollocks." An unmistakably accented voice blabbered out; heavy hands gently patting your back. "I, uh--eh--s-sorry, luv... Oh... Oh, this is a mite awkward, innit?"

You pulled away from him, then--your eyes wide as you grip his shoulders, staring into his eyes. Much softer than Marc's, sweeter... almost innocent. You felt like the floor had opened up beneath you.

"Steven?"

Chapter 15: Not sure lol

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #MY STOMACH NEARLY FELL OUT OF MY ASS!

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myhohastuff · 10 months ago

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The white 😭🤍 The Hair 😭💁🏽‍♀️ The ACCENT!! 😭❤️‍🔥

youtube

#gladiator2 #pedro pascal #P with accent WILL ALWAYS HAVE A CHOKEHOLD ON ME!!#IM HYPERVENTILATING

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myhohastuff · 11 months ago

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OH MY HEART 😭 my poor broken heart!!!!

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc, Steven, Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Child Abuse, PTSD, Anxiety, Depression

A/N: Here's some more angst I'm sorry Also, sorry for this chapter being so short!! But it felt important and I kinda wanted to do more short chapters like this to help stretch the story along a bit further. But we're so close! More drama is afoot! Angst! Despair! Dun dun duuuuun...

Taglist:@bad4amficideas @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @lokisremainingsanity @mundivagantsoul @furblrwurblr @zoleea-exultant @latenightcravingz @daygirl26 @thelastemzy @leahnicole1219 @marsmallow433 @crazyunsexycool @oscarissac2099 @littlenosoul @animechick555 @capsiclesworldsblog @cloudroomblog @lov3vivian @princessakirika @fog-sama @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @badbishsblog @stardream14 @meowmeowyoongles @kate-ohara @kittenlover614 @patchesofwork @enheduannasposts @lillycore555

Chapter 13:

A Rock, A River, And A Boy With a Soft Smile

The dreams weren't constant.... but some of them were better than the first. Sometimes worse... But whatever they were, it was obvious that these dreams were connected to your soulmate... Why else would you be able to touch the boy but nobody else?

As you dreamt, more and more happened. You never saw the boy as an adult man; only ever as a child, or varying ages below 18. It took you a short while to figure out just what these dreams were.

His memories.

And they explained so much of the phantom pains and bruises you'd felt growing up your entire life.

It wasn't until tonight that you were in a different place; trees and grass surrounded you. There was a rocky outcropping with what looked like a crevice inbetween the crags.

Outside of the cave was a boulder, and on that boulder was the boy. His knees were tucked up to his chest and his arms were wrapped tightly around them, his face buried as he shook, bruises visible on his arms, his clothes dirty; twigs stuck out from his raven curls here and there. It became obvious rather quickly that the boy had possibly slept out here.

You rushed over to him, compassion hitting you like a freight train and gently placed your hand on his shoulder.

His reaction was instinctive, brought on by practice of avoiding his mother's blows. The boy's arms immediately went up to cover his head, flinching to protect himself from a blow that you were never going to deliver.

"It's okay, I'm sorry!" You hushed him gently as he scrambles down into the grass to get away from you. You fell to your knees, feeling the dirt and mud cake onto your pajama pants; you held your hands out to him, showing you weren't going to do anything.

It wasn't until one amber eye peeked out at you that he finally realized you weren't his dreadful mother. He lifted his head and his eyes widened.

"Are you okay?" You asked him desperately, "Are you hurt?"

"What are you? Did he send you to mess with me?" He asked you, his voice cracking slightly in pitch, "Because making me do those... those things aren't enough? Now he's gotta... gotta..."

That broke your heart even more; he was so young. Too young to be suffering this kind of abuse, too young to worry about when the next blow was going to land. He shouldn't have to think of his home as a battlefield he had to navigate like some kind of shell-shocked soldier.

"Nobody sent me, I just... I'm here." You try to tell him.

His eyes frantically searched your body, unable to focus on any specific part of you. His brows furrowed and he swallowed.

"You... you can't see me, can you?"

He shifted to sit on his knees, looking towards your face, not quite able to place where your eyes would be. "I... N-No. You look like a... a blob."

Despite the circumstances, you can't help but laugh. "A blob?"

His brows furrowed and he licked his lips, a healing cut on his bottom one making him wince a little. "...You sound funny too. I can't hear everything you say."

"I can hear you." You replied slowly, inching closer to him as he tried to piece your words together. When he didn't move away, you took it as a good sign, that he was comfortable with you. Or, well, getting there at least.

His little eyes seemed confused, and he pursed his lips. "He... didn't send you?"

"Who's he?" You questioned.

"...A bee?" He asked, his face scrunching up in confusion.

You snort, sighing, "This isn't going to be a flawless method of communication, is it?"

He watched as you scooted to sit next to him, and his body instinctively leaned closer to yours. He was shivering. Cold. You were, too, but... clearly you hadn't spent the night in the woods like he had.

He swallowed deeply, forcing the chatter in his teeth away as best he could; "Y-you're...."

"Who you need me to be." You said resolutely, bringing your arm around his shoulders, tucking him into the warmer shelter of your own body.

He seemed to understand the intentions behind your words, even if he couldn't hear them clearly, sighing as his body sunk into the warmth your body bled for him.

Your hand rubbed his warm softly, and you whispered, "Why is this happening to you? Why does she do this?"

"She hates me." He told you. He didn't need to hear you clearly to know you were asking about her. His mother.

He wiped at his runny nose, sniffling. "It's my fault. I-I did something bad... It's all my fault and she... I didn't mean to do it, I swear!"

You felt your heart lurch painfully in your chest as he started to cry, wrapping both arms around him as you tucked him tighter against you, holding his head against your chest to let him cry into your shirt.

"I deserve it. I'm... I'm a bad person. I... I'm..."

Those words made you want to scream, but you kept your voice in check as you pet his hair to soothe him as best you could.

"You're not a bad person." You told him softly, kissing the top of his head as he held onto you. "You're just a boy. Who's hurting, being hurt. It doesn't make you bad. It makes you a victim."

You didn't care if he heard all of what you said to him, but you prayed he understood what you meant by the feeling in your voice as you said them.

He lifts his head to look at you, disheveled, scared, and confused. The bruises and cuts on his lip make your heart hurt and burn with the desire to get your hands on that monstrous bitch of a woman he calls mother.

His smaller hand grasps at one of yours desperately and he holds it to his cheek, desperate for more gentle touches; as if they would soothe the aches and pains left behind even when the wounds had healed and bruises had faded. His sleeve rises up and your eyes trace the faint mark of... of a flower. You couldn't tell what kind, as the bud hadn't bloomed, but...

No, it wasn't time to focus on that right now. He needed comfort. He needed you.

You sat there, unsure of how much time had passed in your little dream sequence, before he finally spoke up again. His voice was softer, this time:

"You can't do this anymore."

"What?" You blinked at him in shock. You even had to shake your head to make sure you hadn't knocked something lose somehow.

He pulled back from you, and stood up, backing away from you.

"You can't keep finding me." He says, tears welling up in his eyes once again. "I'll hurt you, too."

"Wait!" You say, reaching out for him, your heart breaking yet again as he stepped further out of reach. "What's your name?"

"I don't want to hurt you, too... not you..." He sobs softly, clenching his fists before he runs away.

You are barely able to let out a scream before the earth opens up and swallows you whole; and everything goes black.

Chapter 14: Link

#moon knight #marc spector x reader #Laying in bed sobbing

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myhohastuff · 1 year ago

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STEVEN YOU BIG BRAIN DOOF!!!

I’ve been waiting for an Assassin Steven since i read the others and its finally here AND IT DID NOT DISSAPOINT!

Rally I love you, i love this and you are amazing as always

Steven Grant- Assassin

Summary: ac!steven grant x fem!reader (Assassin’s Creed AU): Steven Grant is the brains of the Brotherhood of Assassins. You’re barely out of basic training. As the mystery that the 3 brothers have studied for months deepens, you wonder if either of you can afford to be distracted by your forbidden relationship. (~12k)

Contents: fade to black romance, references to both Marc and Jake's AC chapters. I did my best merging AC lore w/ ancient Egypt, so pls forgive my inaccuracies (she did her best).

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Steven Grant knew that he didn’t seem like the typical Assassin. But the truth was, killing Templars never bothered him.

That was always his advantage. No one expected that even though Steven was nice, quiet even, that he never hesitated to draw blood when necessary.

Faith was supposed to keep everyone together. Focused on the goal. Mostly though, Steven put his faith in his brothers, Marc and Jake. A brotherhood within the Brotherhood.

Getting back out into the field recently was satisfying. Flexing the old muscles and feeling the hidden blade slide out and slice cleanly through an enemy. The thrill of fighting shoulder to shoulder with his brothers.

Whenever Steven worried about losing ground to the Templars, he thought about Marc and Jake. How the three of them would never fail, no matter the task, as long as they worked together.

They all had their roles to play and as much as Steven enjoyed a fight, he was most suited to being head of Research and Development.

But recently everything had turned into one, big puzzle.

Marc and his formerly-piece-of-Eden girlfriend. Jake and his girlfriend, as invisible in their spy work as the twinned blades that they wielded with deadly precision. Steven and- well, he didn’t have a girlfriend or a special anything, really.

He tried not to let it bother him. He was happy for his brothers. Truly.

Even if it was a little lonely in bed all by himself.

Even if Marc’s girlfriend used to be kind of a psychic and hit the nail on the head when she said there was someone Steven had his eyes on. Not that it mattered. Not allowed, he reminded himself daily.

He supposed a little bit of misery in his adulthood was a small price to pay.

His brothers had tougher upbringings than Steven.

Marc had been raised under the mantle of duty. To be the best Assassin the Brotherhood had ever seen, and to inherit the whole thing one day.

Jake had been raised to live in a moral gray area that caused him heaps of trouble with the Code, and made him feel apart from everyone sometimes.

Steven had been raised as an academic, by two warm people who considered him a son. The whole assassinating thing had been taught to him like a game. Probably why he was good at it.

Steven’s intuition was second to none. Made him good in the field, and even better at his current job.

Figuring out what all of this meant.

Templars digging at hidden sights, lost artifacts.

And love.

Sure, he and his brothers had romances in the past, but work came first. In mere months, though, his brothers had become changed men. Not tamed exactly, and not soft. But open to more than just the war that they all fought so hard in.

Steven had always considered himself open. Always wanted to spend more time with Marc and Jake. The three had never been closer, all residing at the compound upstate together now for many weeks.

As he often did, Steven went out to the back porch of the main house after breakfast, his shadow following. Jake’s girlfriend had arrived with a lovely surprise, a little sister with a very keen mind and a sensitive soul. Steven enjoyed tutoring the quiet girl.

He sat in his usual seat overlooking the main outdoor training area, his shadow next to him.

Steven flipped back the cover of the sketchbook he’d brought with him, looked out at the ring, and let his pencil move over the paper.

He had no idea how lost in thought he was until his shadow tapped him gently on the shoulder.

“You’re staring,” she said in her small voice.

Steven blinked and tore his gaze away. “What? I’m sketching.”

The girl pried the sketchbook out of his hands. She held it up.

It was the novice again. The same woman Steven always ended up sketching. Today, her strong limbs were stretched and taut in a low, fighting stance. She was a gorgeous, vicious, tiger in hand-to-hand, his novice.

Um, no, er, Steven corrected his line of thinking, she wasn’t his anything.

He cleared his throat and grabbed his notebook back, closing it firmly.

You were still at the first level and had to focus on that. Not on a slightly-older man in a position of authority. Did you notice that he watched you every morning?

Gods, he really was the definition of a red flag.

Steven stood up, telling himself he wouldn’t watch you tomorrow morning. But then, that’s what he always said.

“Come on,” Steven said to his shadow. “You and I are going to figure out what the Templars are digging for at the Maginot line, and learn a little about military planning in the process. And you’re not going to tattle about my sketchbook this afternoon when she comes down to the lab. Agreed?”

His eyes narrowed, but she wasn’t intimidated by him.

“No,” she said, turning crisply and walking back inside.

*****

Your attention was only half on the wooden training dummy you were supposed to be hitting with throwing knives.

You watched Steven Grant give one last glance at the training area before he headed back inside.

Most mornings he wandered out to the back porch. For fresh air, or to watch the sparring and training, maybe to see his brother, Marc, at work.

You could never really take your eyes off Steven whenever he was around.

It twisted you in knots.

Was it possible to love a man you’d barely had a real conversation with? A man you had no business being in love with at all?

He was Steven Fucking Grant. He and his brothers formed the base of the pyramid on which the entire Brotherhood rested. The cause was nothing without them.

And you were just… nothing.

A lost soul drawn to the Brotherhood through accidental circumstance.

You’d seen an Assassin’s work firsthand.

Instead of running away, you’d managed to catch up with her and ask, beg, for her to tell you how she’d become so beautiful and deadly. As a reward for catching her, she’d told you.

Despite moving through the training faster than your teachers had expected, you were still years behind. Most people started around puberty.

To compensate, Marc had authorized you to push twice as hard in combat training and delay the part most Assassins learned before they were expected to hold a blade. The academic part.

Now that you neared the end of your novice training, the time you were going to spend with Steven weighed on you. You hoped your crush would disappear when you met him. But you knew better. You were going to be a drooling, smiling idiot around him.

You tossed a throwing knife toward the dummy. It missed by a mile.

Marc frowned deeply at you. You hated disappointing him.

You were as much a failure at ranged weapons as you were a prodigy at close combat.

He folded his arms. “An Assassin’s talents have to be balanced and adaptable to circumstances. You won’t be given robes and a hidden blade until they are.”

“So, probably never,” you muttered as you packed up your knives.

Marc handed you the stray knife that you’d lost. “Go for a run before your lesson with Steven. Clear your head.”

You watched him out of the corner of your eye.

“I don’t know what’s been distracting you lately,” Marc said, signaling the others to pack up as well, “but it has to stop.”

You nodded. “I’m know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just get your head back in the game.” He gave you a pat on the shoulder. “We need your skills in the field. Obviously, not the ranged ones because they suck, but the other ones,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m better at the crossbow and firearms.”

“You need to throw knives. It’s tradition.”

“Fine, dad, I’ll work on it again later,” you said sarcastically.

Marc’s face said he didn’t appreciate the joke. “Do you want to clean horse stalls? Because attitude like that is how you get put on stall duty.”

“Oh my God, I make a joke about you being dad and you go and make yourself even dad-er,” you laughed.

He didn’t crack a smile, but his eyes crinkled a little at the corners.

When you’d arrived at the Brotherhood without a single thing to your name, no direction, no higher education or training in anything, Marc had the final say in your acceptance.

You were still surprised that he’d let you in. All he’d asked for was your hard work and loyalty.

You couldn’t betray his kindness by throwing yourself at his brother. Steven was a crush. That was all he could ever be.

You went for a run like Marc had suggested, trying to drum some sense into yourself. It wasn’t any use.

The thought of going to Steven’s lab made your resolve weak. You knew his lab smelled like him. Like pages of a book, and warmth and safety.

The little girl who followed Steven around like his assistant waylay’d you on your way to the lab. With her big eyes and wordless mouth, she showed you Steven’s sketchbook.

Most were his brothers, with a smattering of other people. But as the pages went on, almost every sketch was you.

She smiled enigmatically, clutched the book back to her chest, and ran off.

You’d never let yourself hope that Steven was interested in you. Mostly because hope was dangerous. When it inevitably turned out that your hopes were misplaced, it was devastating. You'd been through it enough in your life to know better.

But if there was even a sliver of a chance that Steven could return your feelings, would you be brave enough to try?

Steven’s lab was quiet. His shadow was off with her sister. She and Jake had just returned from South American, bringing back more artifacts, and more questions. They were laid out in scraps of fading paper and cloth on one of the tables.

“I think it’s a location,” Steven said over his shoulder, “but it’s written in like, a code. The parchment is a general area, but I can’t get it back together. The cloth is much older, but its edges are pretty frayed. I’m having trouble making out what it’s even supposed to point to. Probably has more specific directions. You’re sure there wasn’t a third artifact? Like a Rosetta stone or something to tell me what it’s meant to be?”

Steven turned to look back.

“Oh, I thought Jake was here, but it’s you. Hello,” he said, a little nervously.

You stood awkwardly in the doorway, heart pounding. “We can do this later if you’re busy.”

“No, come in, please. Now’s perfect, and you’re right on schedule,” Steven said quickly.

He smiled at you. His curly hair fell over his forehead. He had on an actual white lab coat with the red Assassin symbol on the pocket. He wore his glasses.

He beckoned you forward toward his table and you joined him, looking at the array of pieces, like a jigsaw puzzle, spread out in front of him.

You held your hands behind your back, fingers laced together.

“Why don’t you wash your hands, then you can help me with this while we chat,” Steven said. “I’m more of a no-glove kind of person. Gloves tend to reduce tactile sensitivity, you know? It’s important to be able to feel how much pressure you’re putting on things, if you’re scrunching it up or doing something it doesn’t like. Kinda the same with the blade, isn’t it? You need that natural feel.”

You went over to the sink and washed your hands, listening.

“I do ramble, apologies,” Steven said with a smile.

You loved his rambling, actually, but you couldn’t say that out loud. “I’m here for instruction, so we can think of it as your first lecture.”

Steven smiled gratefully. “I gather you know the basic history of our brotherhood, but Marc feels you need to delve a bit deeper into why our work is so important.”

You nodded, moving the pieces of parchment and cloth around the table idly.

“The war with the Templars is more academic to me,” you said. “I’m not like you. I haven’t lost anyone yet. Haven’t killed either.”

Steven adjusted his glasses. “I hope you remember this as a good time in your life, then. It’s a big responsibility, once you enter active service. Um, what’re you doing there?” Steven asked, looking at the table.

“This kind of thing never ceases to amaze me,” you said to Steven. “It’s why I love the legacy of the Assassins. How pieces of history are all connected. Like these. They’re clearly from two completely different times and places, but somehow they fit together perfectly.”

You lined up the cloth and parchment, jagged edges to jagged edges, until they made an almost square. The lines of text read as complete paragraphs, with lines and dots crisscrossing them. Parchment from the 17th century and dyed cloth from hundreds of years before that, always meant to go together, a patchwork that revealed itself to you.

“My Gods,” Steven whispered, one hand scratching the back of his neck. “You’re bloody genius. Fuck me, why didn’t I see that?”

“What do you mean?” You asked.

Steven looked at you like you were the most interesting thing in the room, and not the artifact. It made your heart skip in your chest.

“You’ve solved it, love. This looks almost exactly like a star chart that my brothers and I found in a hidden temple not long ago. We’ve had no idea what to do with it, until now. It was a map and this is the key." He took off his glasses and put them in his pocket. “Didn’t even know you were solving a puzzle, did you? I didn’t see it at all and I’m supposed to be the top man around here. You’re amazing.”

You felt Steven’s hand touch yours. Almost imperceptible at first, but his fingers wound their way through yours.

Your face felt hot. You’d never been good at hiding your feelings. You tried not to look at him, you really did. But Steven was irresistible.

His eyes shone on yours. His gaze dropped to your lips.

“I know I’m not supposed to,” Steven said quietly.

He started to pull his hand away, but you held onto it. Hope was dangerous, but bravery, you’d always had. You took a step closer to him, let your other hand trace along the lapel of his lab coat.

You saw Steven swallow, his face serious. “If anyone found out, I promise, it’d be all on me. But I can’t be expected to have you here and not…”

His other hand cupped your face, holding it still as he angled his head and brought his lips to yours. Softly at first, giving you a chance to say no. Instead, you put your arms around him and drew him closer.

You kissed him back.

His lips fit into yours like they were meant to be there. His hands around you felt exactly right, and you never wanted him to let you go. You pulled on his coat, bringing his body flush with yours.

A deep throat-clearing interrupted you. Steven pushed you away from him gently.

“Hi, Marc,” he said in a weirdly high-pitched voice.

You turned to face the table, mortified.

“Steven,” you heard Marc say “that is not what you’re supposed to be teaching her.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, turning to him.

Marc held up a hand. “I stopped by because I didn’t think Steven was going to be able to control himself. Not your fault.” Marc said to you while staring hard at his brother. “You’re still a novice. Steven’s supposed to be your leader. Not your make-out buddy.”

Steven glowered at Marc.

“Oh, suddenly you’re all about keeping your hands to yourself?” Steven said. “The love of your life was your target, before she was your girlfriend. It’s the only time you’ve ever failed to complete a mission. I don’t know where you get off trying to lecture me.”

“That was different,” Marc said, frustrated.

“Hardly,” Steven scoffed. “And I supported you. Didn’t I?”

Marc rested his hands on his hips, jaw working back and forth.

“Didn’t I?” Steven repeated louder.

Marc nodded reluctantly.

Steven nodded back, job done. “So, if you’re done lording over us with your superior attitude, make yourself useful and come take a look at this.” He took his glasses back out of his coat pocket and put them on. “I think your novice might be ready to move up to initiate. I don’t say this lightly, but she might be smarter than I am.”

Marc looked back and forth between you two.

You were speechless after watching Steven and Marc argue. You’d never seen anything but stoicism from Marc, and professionalism from Steven. Yes, they and Jake were all identical, but you’d never seen them act like brothers in the traditional sense.

But they’d just fought like brothers. There was love between them. You wondered if that’s why the Brotherhood revolved around them, and what else they might be hiding from everyone.

You stood a little off to the side while Steven caught Marc up to speed. It was fascinating, listening to them decipher the text, talk about what it meant and possible locations. How much they thought the Templars knew, and who they’d have to kill to find out.

As a trainee, you’d normally never be invited to something like this.

They finalized a plan. Marc clapped his hand on Steven’s shoulder. He looked at you with a nod.

“I’m going to go make some calls, see what I can find out about this.” Marc looked at Steven, “And as for this, whatever you two do, do not let it leave this room. Don’t let anyone catch wind of it. It’s against the rules for a reason.”

You nodded.

“Surely I can tell Jake,” Steven said.

“Who do you think suggested I come down here?” Marc said with a grin. “He told me to keep an eye out the day she showed up. Said you looked like trouble,” Marc said, looking at you. “Which is a high compliment from Jake.”

“Thank you,” Steven said with a smile.

“It’s good to see you happy,” Marc said gruffly before leaving, shutting the door to Steven’s lab.

Steven tossed his glasses on the table, rubbed his eyes briefly. “That was difficult, but it had to be done. I’d hoped that if I couldn’t, as Marc put it ‘control myself,’ then he’d at least understand, given his own history. I’d say it went well.”

“Really?” You asked. “Because I thought I’d be out on my ass.”

Steven’s dark eyes were serious. He walked over to you, rested his hands on your upper arms, rubbing up and down slowly. “Never. When you take a vow with the Brotherhood, the Brotherhood also takes one. We pledge to have faith in you, as you have faith in us.”

You cautiously stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist for a hug. He hugged you back, warm and solid.

“I didn’t want to destroy that faith by taking advantage of it,” Steven said. “I thought I should to ignore my feelings. I thought I could.”

“If I could move beyond novice training, we wouldn’t have to hide anything. I should’ve advanced weeks ago, but I hit kind of a stumbling block. Marc’s helping me improve.”

“Oh, darling,” Steven says, kissing the side of your head, “you’re doing spectacularly well. Remember, most people start very early in life. It’s difficult for an adult to learn what we do. It’s rare for us to even let someone try. I think you’re very special.”

“Stop,” you said gently, smiling.

“I will not.” Steven leaned back to look at you. “Marc almost never takes a personal interest in a new recruit’s training. And Jake never looks twice at one, until they’re of use to him. And I-“ his smile was almost grim, “I have a sketchbook full of you. I love to watch you train and move. You were meant to be an Assassin.”

“Is that all I’m meant to be?” You asked, looking at Steven, your faces close together.

“For now, we let everyone else think that, yes,” Steven said, his hands tightening around you. “But in here, we’re so much more.”

Steven put his lips softly against yours, kissing you lightly, your lips and cheek, then your jawline and down your neck.

“In here, maybe we can find new meaning in ‘everything is permitted.’” He lifted his head to smile at you. “If you’ll allow me?”

The look in Steven’s eyes made your mouth go dry and your heart stutter into quick, hard bursts. You had no idea how you knew you loved him, never having felt it before. But like when you’d joined the Brotherhood, your instincts knew what was right.

“Yes, Steven,” you said against his lips as you kissed him again.

Steven gripped your waist, backing you slowly toward the end of the lab, where you knew his personal quarters were. “No more lessons for today. Now, we learn together.”

*****

To Steven, you were the best thing to ever happen in the history of the Brotherhood of Assassins. Better than folded steel. Better than gunpowder. Better than last week when you’d been fitted for your white robes and run down to show him.

He’d never been particularly fond of them, never liked being covered from head to toe. But you wearing it. Well, he’d finally understood the romance in them.

You'd worked hard to rise from Novice to Initiate. Your first targets and solo missions.

Steven had never been prouder hearing word of someone's success. You'd had a private celebration when you'd gotten back. Steven had made you recount every step while you'd laid together in his bed.

You'd spent less than a season in the second rank before Marc had made you an Apprentice.

You were a wonder. All of that, while still spending time with Steven, working on the brilliant puzzle you'd solved and what it meant for the Assassins.

You worked harder than anyone he'd ever seen and brushed it off like it was nothing. For almost six months now, Steven had your brilliant mind and your perfect body all to himself in his lab.

How, then, was he supposed to tell you that the very thing you’d been working on with him, something he'd maybe never have figured out without you, the hours of research you’d done for him since…

How was he supposed to tell you that all of your hard work was going to pay off. He’d found probably the most important temple in all of history, Assassin or Templar, but that you couldn’t come with him.

You took the news, as predicted, not well. Steven couldn’t stand the hurt look in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, love. We’d never normally take someone in the third rank with us on a mission like this.”

You’re sat in Steven’s lab, on the couch near the bookcases. These past months had been the most fulfilling you’d ever experienced, every day better and better. Working side by side with Steven, finding your passions aligned, both professionally and personally.

It was clear to you that your place was here, in research and history with Steven. You’d thought he felt the same.

It was crushing to find out that he didn’t think you were enough.

“The missions you’ve been on were straight-forward. You handled them beautifully, but this could be very dangerous,” Steven said.

“What part do you think I can’t handle? Yes, my missions were simple, but we both know things never go down like that. I had to improvise and survive on every single one of them. And I’ve studied the temples that've been uncovered so far. I’ve been working with you for weeks, and you’ve told me over and over that you think I’m smart.”

“You are, but I can’t risk you getting hurt.”

“I’m an Assassin, Steven. Just like you. Our work is dangerous.” You scrutinized his face. “So I don’t buy that you’re just worried for my safety.”

“Fine,” Steven said, his tone clipped, like he had to yank the words out of his own mouth. “If you must know, I don’t think you’re ready. I’ve told Marc as much.”

“Marc wanted me to go?” You asked, sitting up straighter.

“He asked me what I thought about your progress,” Steven said. “And you’re an absolute star pupil, but-“

“I'm not your pupil anymore. I don't know as much as you, but I thought we were working together as a team. Learning together as we went along. That wasn't enough for you? You don’t believe in me?” You stood up and stalked over to Steven, who at least had the decency to look ashamed of himself.

He took off his glasses and hung them on the collar of his shirt. “Marc, Jake, and I trust each other implicitly. It’s why we’re so successful together.”

Steven reached for your arm, but you backed away, out of his grasp. “So that’s it? You think the entire Brotherhood is just you and your actual brothers and to hell with everyone else?”

“No,” Steven said, “I didn’t say that, did I? Marc and Jake are bringing their girlfriends.”

Steven paused, realizing his mistake.

“Marc’s girlfriend could still be a piece of this entire puzzle. She’s what started us down this path. And Jake and his girlfriend are partners in every way. They don’t work without each other,” Steven said patiently.

“So everyone's part of this but me?”

“Just try and understand things from my perspective, yeah? This’ll be dangerous. You’re still untested in many ways. I can’t watch over you and protect my borthers. The skills we need for this mission are probably beyond what you’ve learned.” He looked at you earnestly, apologetically, but you can tell he won’t change his mind.

“So what we have means nothing in the long run?”

Steven looked pained. “What we have is beautiful. The hours we spend together are the best part of my day. I can’t let it cloud my better judgment, though. Not when it comes to keeping my brothers safe.”

You shut your eyes tightly, not wanting to cry or let your emotions get the better of you. But they already had, hadn’t they?

You’d lost your head the second you’d seen Steven Grant. You’d let him in, let him become part of the very fabric of your existence.

But you’d forgotten that Steven’s life was much bigger than yours. Beyond winning the war against the Templars, Steven believed in his family above all else.

It had been your mistake, thinking you were part of that.

“You still think of me as a complete novice. I’ve risen two full ranks since we’ve been together,” you said, holding your hand up to stop him from coming near you. “You still don’t want to tell people about us. I told myself it was because our relationship is still new. But now I'm thinking, you just don't want anyone to know. And now this. I’ll never win with you, Steven. Not if you don’t let me prove myself. You don’t have any faith in me.”

A red blush spread across Steven’s cheekbones. “I have faith in my brothers. This job is huge, the biggest mystery we've ever faced. We can’t afford any mistakes. Not that you’re a mistake. Oh Gods, this is coming out all wrong.”

“No, I think it’s coming out honest,” you said, picking up a few of the books you’d brought to read, your sweater that you always left here for when you got cold.

“Don’t do that,” Steven said, scrambling after you.

“You still see me as that lost soul who came to the Brotherhood with nothing. Someone you watched from a distance. But I’m real, Steven. You can’t tell me that you think I’m brilliant, everything you ever wanted, and then act like this.” You shook your head, stuffing everything into your bag. “You don’t think I’m good enough. I don’t think you ever will.”

“I’m not going to fight with you,” Steven said stubbornly. “I think you’ll understand once you cool off.”

“I’m not a child, Steven,” you yelled at him. “I’m not- I’m not anything to you. Not anymore. Not if you don’t believe in me.”

“I believe in your potential,” Steven said.

You felt like your heart was being torn apart. If this was love, you should never have let yourself give in to it.

“I need someone who sees me for who I am now. I’m not interested in ‘someday,’” you said to Steven.

He didn’t try to stop you when you stormed out of his lab.

As far as disasters, that was pretty much the biggest one Steven’d ever seen. Maybe, it was a blessing in disguise. You’d be safer this way.

At least, that’s what Steven told himself. But there was a large, nagging feeling on his conscience. A big, neon sign in his brain telling him you were right.

When it all came down to one moment, one job, and one chance to do it right, he had faith in his brothers.

Maybe he wasn’t capable of having faith in anyone else.

*****

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks, Jake,” Steven grumbled as he got off the plane.

They were somewhere in southwest Egypt, where Jake had found a makeshift runway and sketchy hangar to store the small plane in.

Marc was already working on loading the bags into the SUV that was waiting for them. Jake’s girlfriend was driving herself and Mark’s girlfriend out into the desert to meet them, having traveled from another job of their own. The two women had become close friends, and it occurred to Steven that he’d never introduced you to them. Not officially. Guilt sliced through him.

You’d been right. He’d squirreled you away in his lab, isolating your relationship away from the rest of the world. Steven had told himself it was to protect you, but it was a weak excuse.

“The site’s about an hour and a half away,” Steven said. He threw his pack into the backseat of the vehicle so hard it bounced back out and onto the ground. He watched a look pass between his brothers. “What? What now?”

Marc half shrugged, brushing off his hands and closing the back of the vehicle. “You need to calm down, Steven. We can’t go in there in a blind rage. We have to be smart about this.”

“I fucking know that, don’t I?” Steven snapped. He rubbed his face over his hands. “Okay, alright. Sorry.”

Jake clapped a hand on Steven’s back. “You fucked up. I understand.”

Steven gave him a dirty look. “I didn’t.”

Marc raised an eyebrow at him. "But you did."

Jake sighed and opened the driver’s side of the car. He flipped the visor down and the keys fell out onto the seat. “Let’s go.”

Steven stewed in silence until they were away from the airfield, driving on the cracked pavement of a sandy, poorly maintained road. He leaned forward so he was closer to Marc and Jake in the front seats.

“She wasn’t ready,” Steven said.

Jake leaned an elbow on the door, rubbed his thumb and finger back and forth over his mustache.

Marc cleared his throat. “Fine. I’ll handle this.” He turned to look at Steven. “She was ready.”

Steven narrowed his eyes. “We do these jobs, the three of us. It’s the only way to ensure everything’s done properly.”

Jake glanced at Steven. “You better not be questioning my lady’s skills. Remember, she’s in charge of me now.”

“On a technicality,” Steven said testily.

Jake stopped the vehicle short, whipping Steven toward the front. He twisted in his seat to look at Steven.

“You’re the one who researches our history and artifacts. You’re the one who looked at two ancient swords and hypothesized that she was destined for the more powerful one. That she was the stronger leader. And you were right.”

“Jake,” Marc said, his tone low.

“No, he’s being a stubborn asshole,” Jake said with a cutting look at Marc before he turned to look at Steven again. “You’re the one who thought Marc’s girlfriend should meet us at this site. They’re all involved in this. You said yourself you’d never have found this temple without your girl. Except you didn’t want her to come along. So what is it, Steven? You think your girlfriend’s useless? You don’t love her?”

“Stop,” Marc said firmly.

Jake jammed the car back in gear and sped back up on the bumpy road.

Steven leaned back in his seat. No, you were the furthest thing from useless there was. And of course he loved you.

Although, he’d never said the words, had he? But you had to know. Right?

He hadn’t wanted to distract you from training. You were so dedicated. You believed in the Brotherhood, maybe in ways that Steven himself didn’t. Maybe in ways he thought were a bit naive.

Steven leaned forward again. “She’s an Assassin. I think that’s the problem.”

Marc looked at Steven from the corner of his eye. “What the hell does that even mean? We’re Assassins too.”

“I don’t know how to explain this,” Steven mumbled. “I wasn’t really raised in the Brotherhood, was I? The people who raised me were like family, not teachers. Yes, I trained with others, but I got to go home afterward. To a real home. And I studied a lot, read more than most. It gave me a different perspective on our history than you two had. Something my parents encouraged. They taught me to trust in people first, and the Brotherhood second.”

Marc shifted to look at Steven, alarmed. “That wasn’t what they were supposed to do.”

“I would’ve felt the same, regardless. I have faith, yes, but honestly our history’s littered with people switching sides or dying for the cause. I always knew if the 3 of us could stick together, we’d be brilliant at anything we did. It’s all I’ve ever really cared about,” Steven said. “When we were little, we only got to see each other a couple of times a year.”

“Steven,” Jake said. He reached a hand over and patted Steven’s arm. “We love you too. But we can’t make up for lost time now. It doesn’t work like that.”

“I’m not the best at talking things over,” Marc said, “but I know you’ve always felt a little guilty. You shouldn’t.”

Steven shrugged one of his shoulders. “I know it wasn’t my fault that I got to have a real childhood and you two didn’t. That you were trained harder and colder than I was. I couldn’t be happier that we’re together now, and you two have real love in your lives. You deserve it.”

He took a deep breath.

“And I feel like,” Steven said reluctantly, “like it’s my turn now. To focus on the work. While you two have something normal for once.”

Jake swore under his breath.

“What if this is the end of everything?” Steven said, his words coming out faster than he intended. “What if we get to this temple and unlock something that destroys us? That’s a very real possibility. I have to do everything I can to make sure whatever’s in there doesn’t melt the universe. You both deserve to be happy. I can’t watch that be destroyed.”

“You’re spiraling, breathe,” Marc said gently. He rubbed a hand over Steven’s shoulders.

“I’m trying to explain the gravity of the situation,” Steven said.

“You’re going to give yourself a panic attack,” Marc said, his eyes watching Steven carefully. “I have them too.”

“You do?” Steven said quietly.

“Me too,” Jake said.

“Of all the bloody things for us to have in common,” Steven said, almost laughing.

Marc and Jake smiled at each other.

“Being in love, and the way I fell in love, made me realize that I can’t control everything,” Marc said, his voice thick with the memory of how, in a split moment, he’d chosen the woman he loved over the Brotherhood he’d dedicated his life to. That she was almost sacrificed for it anyway. “We watched her die, remember? More accurately, we watched Jake kill her.”

Jake made a noise in his throat, turning up the air another click. “I told you, I was pretty sure she wasn’t going to actually die.”

“Well, let me jam my hidden blade under your girlfriend’s ribcage and then talk to me about ‘pretty sure.’”

“You couldn’t touch her. She’d kill you before you even knew she was there,” Jake smiled.

“I’m sorry,” Marc said sarcastically, “you do know I’m rising to Master Assassin soon, right?”

Jake shrugged. “My girl’s fucking deadly, what can I say?”

“Yeah, and my girl knows what it’s like to feel an Assassin’s blade kill her, and come back from it, which makes her tougher than any of us,” Marc said. He shook his head. “Stop bickering with me about who has the better girlfriend, okay? I think we can agree, we’re all batting a little out of our leagues, right?”

Jake nodded. “Definitely.”

“I know I am,” Steven said. “She sees things in ways I never could. Naturally brilliant. Better at the skills of an Assassin than I am, and still able to think so clearly while she does it. I tend to get caught up in the moment.”

“We know. We’ve seen you work, talk about a body count,” Jake said.

Steven ignored him. “She’s always looking for details to piece together. Her brain never stops working. I suppose she’s always on high-alert because she’s been alone for most of her life. Before the Brotherhood, I mean. I think we’re her safe place. I think I was.”

Steven felt tears prickle along his lower lashes. “Gods, I fucked up so badly. She was right, I didn’t have faith in her. All I had was hubris. Holding onto the way things used to be instead of seeing what could be.”

Jake veered off the road, straight into the desert. “I’m sure she’ll take you back if you grovel hard enough.”

“Not helpful,” Marc said, “but probably true.”

Steven ran his sleeve under his eyes. “I wouldn’t take me back. I know how much she needed connection and love. I know exactly what that feels like. And I pushed her away. No, if I were her, I’d spit in my own eye.”

“Why don’t you let her decide what she wants?” Marc said. “My money’s on you.”

“Let’s just hope the world’s still standing when we get this job done, and I can try to apologize,” Steven said.

Jake navigated among the sand dunes. He checked his watch. “You won’t have to wait. You can apologize in about 15 minutes. All 3 of them should be at the site already.”

There was silence as the SUV jostled through the sand and toward a very distant oasis.

“You know me. Always have something up my sleeve,” Jake said. “And I don’t want all the blame for this reunion. Marc signed off on it.”

Steven’s stomach churned, not because of the rough ride, but at the thought of seeing you again so soon. He was grateful to his brothers for doing something he had been too shortsighted to do himself.

At the same time, he had no idea what he was going to say. He had no historical data or past experience to go on. He’d never had to apologize for being such a knobhead before.

All he knew was that he loved you. He trusted you. He believed in you.

Maybe you'd believe him if he told you the truth. Silly as it was, Steven hadn't ever had a real girlfriend before. Not one he loved like this. He'd made a series of rookie errors he'd not be making again.

Jake parked the SUV at the oasis. The land behind it was flatter and less sandy, a little firmer looking.

The three of them got their packs out of the back of the SUV and walked through the trees and scrubby brush, Marc leading.

Steven saw a body of water, the size of a small pond, and next to it, the ground dipped down into a bowl-shape. It was huge, but he still hadn’t seen it until they were almost directly on top of it. There was a level patch of ground at the bottom, and a crude entrance dug into one of the dirt sides.

And there you were. Well, the 3 women Steven had expected to see. You were talking, laughing, seemingly at ease. But when the men started skidding their way down into the hidden bowl, and your eyes met Steven’s, your face went blank. You looked away. Steven’s breath hitched in his chest.

Marc and Jake reunited with their girlfriends the way Steven wanted to with you, a hug and a kiss slightly inappropriate for when other people were around.

You avoided his eyes and knelt down next to your backpack. You checked things that didn’t need checking, zipped and unzipped the pockets.

As outright stupid as Steven might have been about his feelings for you, he’d always been braver than most.

So, he walked over, a cloud of dust trailing in his haste.

“Hello there,” he said.

You nodded. “Hey.”

“I’m sorry. I know that’s not enough, but I have to start somewhere,” he said, a little awkwardly.

Your hands stilled on your pack. He could see the battle of emotions on your face. Finally, you stood back up. “Apology accepted,” you said.

Steven was inordinately pleased you were brave too.

He smiled, reaching out to touch your hand, but you whipped away from him.

“Don’t,” you said. “I appreciate your apology, but I’m not making the same mistake with you twice.”

You shouldered your pack and walked toward the entrance, out of the sun.

Steven felt deja vu. He knew this feeling from before. From when he’d felt unable to reach you, when he’d thought you were off-limits. Like his whole future was uncertain because he wasn’t sure you’d be in it.

The difference now was that he knew, for sure, that you had to be. There was no alternative. You belonged together.

Steven caught up to you, not wanting to be far away ever again.

You were already studying what you'd found inside. A heavy wall, eerily familiar to him.

It looked almost exactly like the temple Marc, Jake, and Steven had stood in months and months ago. The one Marc’s girlfriend had opened with her blood. Except there was nothing that looked ceremonial this time. The wall itself was seamless, with only a small, intricate circle pattern in the very middle.

Marc, hands on his hips, studied the ground. “I thought it was going to be like our temple,” he said to his girlfriend.

She glanced at Jake. “Not exactly like it, I hope.”

Jake grinned. “I couldn’t do that to you again. I know you personally now.”

“That’s never stopped you from killing someone,” Jake’s girlfriend said, elbowing him in the side.

Steven stood as close to you as he dared, as you traced your fingers over the dent in the smooth, polished stone.

“It must be another puzzle,” you muttered.

“Yeah,” Steven agreed. “But remember, the temple Marc and his girlfriend opened, only opened because she was a Piece of Eden. Whatever power she had was completely drained to open those doors. We watched her golden aura spill away with her blood.”

“Something must open it, though. We looked over every known Piece of Eden on record. Nothing made sense to bring here. Except her.” You turned to Marc’s girlfriend. “You could try making a cut on your finger and putting some blood on this pattern, but I don’t think that’s it. I know you can’t read people’s thoughts anymore, or anything you used to be able to do, but the dimensions of this room are exactly like the other temple. The doors are almost identical.”

She worried her teeth along her bottom lip, then looked up at Marc. “I think we have to tell them.”

Marc shook his head slowly, but more in resignation than disagreement.

Jake folded his arms. “Marc?”

He scratched the side of his neck, eyes upward. “She doesn’t have any powers anymore. But sometimes, she does still… glow.”

Jake’s eyes widened, mouth poised to make a smart ass comment. Marc pointed at him.

“If you say one word, I’ll fucking end you,” Marc said. He sighed. “I kiss her sometimes and I open my eyes and there’s this, golden haze to her skin.”

“Not nearly as bright as when I was a Piece of Eden,” she said. “It only happens when I feel really connected to Marc, really in love. Mushy stuff.”

“Worth a try, maybe.” Marc wrapped an arm around her waist. He looked at her seriously, but anyone who knew him would see the glint of mischief in his eyes. “What do you say? Can I kiss you, pretty girl?”

She nodded and took his hand, pulling him toward the door.

Marc looked around and then threw up his hands. “Everyone turn around. Bunch of nosy assholes.”

You laughed and turned, Steven catching your eyes to laugh with you.

Out of the very corner of your eye, you saw Marc rest his hands on his girlfriend’s hips. He gently backed her up a couple of steps, until her back was to the wall.

She smiled at him. Marc smiled too, more open and relaxed in that one moment than you’d seen him in the few years you’d trained under him. He leaned his head forward toward her.

“Hey,” Jake said, “should we plug our ears? How graphic does this get?”

You covered your mouth with your hand to keep from laughing.

Marc ignored his brother, leaning in to press his lips to his girlfriend’s. It was immediately deep and passionate. Like he was showing her how much he loved her. You felt your face get warm when you saw a flash of Marc’s tongue dip inside of her mouth. His body pressed hers back toward the wall.

Without even thinking, you reached out and touched Steven to get his attention. He turned slightly to look.

There it was, faint but easy to notice in the dim room. A golden glow that made you feel warm, even at this distance.

You looked at Steven to see him watching you, looking desperately like he wanted to say something you weren't ready to hear yet. You walked forward, away from him.

Marc slowly broke the kiss. “You look beautiful,” he said quietly to her, his words echoing off the stone.

There was a mechanical click, followed by the sound of moving and sliding plates. A small panel in the stone slid away, just enough of a doorway to fit through one at a time.

You peered down the hallway, Steven close by, looking with you.

“You’ve changed your shampoo,” he said, as if it were relevant information.

“No, I just went back to using my old stuff because I left my new stuff in your shower. You can toss it out,” you said, grabbing your flashlight out of your bag and pushing ahead.

Jake pushed Steven’s shoulder. “Go after her,” he mouthed silently.

“Hey,” Steven said, catching up with you, “I’m really glad you’re here.”

You heard the rest of the group shuffling further behind you. Not exactly out of earshot so you tried to keep your voice low.

“I doubt that,” you said.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t want you to come with us. Or, I guess that is what I wanted. But I was dead wrong.”

“You weren’t. I shouldn’t have assumed I’d be invited to this, just because I helped you research it. I shouldn’t have asked for special treatment.”

The hallway ended in a small, completely empty room. Flashlights from the rest of the group lit up the room from behind you. Steven pulled you immediately aside. His hand rested gently on your arm and he leaned in toward you, messy curls falling over his forehead.

“You didn’t ask for anything, love, you never do. I got so in my own head about everything, protecting my brothers and myself-“

“I get it. If I had family, I’d feel the same way.”

Steven leaned in, his face close to yours. “Let me finish, please. I’ve wanted to be with you for so long, I think when I finally had you, I didn’t really know what to do with myself. I kind of compartmentalized you, kept you separate from the rest of my life. It was selfish of me, and not at all fair to you. It was nothing you did. You’ve been lovely. Perfect.”

His hands circled your upper arms.

“I don’t have an excuses for the way I treated you, other than I didn’t really know what to do with my feelings. I love you.”

You pulled away from him, head buzzing.

“I’ll always be here for you, no matter what,” he said.

He let you go and you immediately walked away, past the others who’d since entered the room. You stood on the other side of the group, fighting back tears.

Steven moved to join you, but Marc stepped in. “Give her a minute,” he whispered to Steven.

“Yeah, alright,” Steven said.

“Hey, come look at this,” Jake called from the other side of the room. He shone his flashlight on the wall, a glitter of dots and lines lit up under the beam. “I guess this means we have the right place. This is the star map that keeps showing up. You ever figure out exactly what it is?”

Steven shook his head and looked at you. “We ran out of time.”

It was mostly true. You’d both spent a fair amount of time in Steven’s lab doing work on each other, instead of the monumental puzzle.

When your mind started working, your fingers rubbing your forehead, and your mouth all curled up into a thinking face, Steven got distracted. And then he’d distract you.

Marc unstrapped a lantern from his pack and turned it on, flooding the room in dull, warm light.

“What did the Templar intel say about this place?” He asked Jake.

Jake worried his mustache between his fingers. “They’ve never gotten as far in as we have. They’d stopped guarding it because they figured there way no to open it. But the coordinates keep popping back up in their records, too often to be just another historic site. Far as I know, they knew about the star thing, but were as confused by it as we are.”

“They have incredibly powerful computers and the resources to run them 24-hours a day,” Steven said. “If they can’t figure out where these stars are from, then I’m not sure we can either.”

Your fingers rubbed your forehead. Steven watched you, the gesture made his stomach to clench.

You’d said outside that you wouldn’t be making the same mistake with him. Well, neither would he. He wasn’t going to give up on you.

“What are you thinking, love?” Steven asked you, resting his hand on your back lightly.

“Something’s been bothering me.” You took your flashlight and traced the light over parts of the pattern. “Remember when we said these looked like constellations?”

“Parts of several different ones. That’s what made it so confusing,” Steven said.

“If we ignore the crescent moon in the middle, what does this look like to you?”

Steven’s eyes almost glittered in the darkness as they traced over the pattern you made with your flashlight. He filtered through his brain for what you could mean.

“What if we didn’t go back far enough in history? We were thinking about it too literally. The scale is all wrong, but the pieces are here. And we’re in Egypt.” You trace your flashlight down a line of dots with small lines connecting them. Back and forth.

“Gods above, it’s the constellation Tawaret,” Steven whispered. “It’s the northern sky.”

“It’s the northern sky,” you echoed Steven.

He turned to you, beaming, and before you could say anything, he wrapped his arms around you, lifting you up on your toes. “You’re absolutely brilliant.”

“I’d love to agree, but the rest of us have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mark said, breaking the moment.

Steven held onto you with one arm. You were so happy you couldn’t bring yourself to leave his grasp.

“Well, the Ancient Egyptians believed important people, pharaohs and such, became stars in the northern sky when they died. So, pyramids and the like were always oriented toward the north. And this entire place is north-facing,” Steven said.

“Which could indicate this isn’t just a temple. It might be a tomb,” you added.

Marc’s brow furrowed in concentration. “If it were a Templar tomb, they wouldn’t have had any problems opening it. And we know it’s not one of ours. So who’s buried here?”

“If this turns out to be aliens, I lost a bet with a friend and owe him a grand,” Jake said.

“The moon shouldn’t be on the wall with those stars,” you said. “If this is the northern hemisphere and the northern sky, the moon is completely out of place. Could be a clue.”

“Clever girl,” Steven said quietly.

“I told you not call me that. I made you watch ‘Jurassic Park,’ remember?” You said with a genuine smile.

Steven brushed his fingers over your face. “You know, when I used to watch you training-“

“Like a creep,” Jake said helpfully.

“I used to think you were a tiger,” Steven said, looking at you, “but maybe you’re a velociraptor. An incredible fighter, and as intelligent as they come. Surprisingly cute, but deadly. And,” he said, looking at Jake, “it’s not creepy if she was watching me back.”

Jake’s eyes, crinkling at the corners from his smile, looked at you.

You sighed. “Yeah, I was kind of watching him back.”

Steven laughed and gave you a quick kiss on the side of your head. You didn’t have time to object before he let you go, walking closer to Marc.

“I can feel you breathing down my neck, Jake,” you said quietly, wondering how he’d gotten next to you so fast.

“You have good instincts,” he said. “Look, it’s not my business.”

You huffed out a sigh. “You’re the one who convinced me to come. You passed ‘not your business’ three days ago.”

Jake grinned. “I was just saying it to be polite. Anyway, Steven knows he hurt you, but he’s as new to this love thing as you are. Cut each other some slack.”

“If it were just a fight, I’d be over it already,” you said.

You couldn’t blame him for defending his brother, but it annoyed you that Jake was right.

The more you thought about it, the more you knew that Steven’s words hadn’t come out how he’d intended. But it didn’t change the basic fact that Steven hadn’t wanted you to come because he didn’t think you could be of any help. Not professionally, even though he knew you could handle yourself in the field. And not personally, which was what really hurt.

He hadn’t wanted you here because he didn’t consider you family.

Jake nodded. “I’m as hard to get along with as my brothers, so maybe my advice means fuck all. But our work is lethal. Us even standing here is dangerous. I almost lost the woman I love because I was too stubborn to admit how I felt. To tell her how much I needed her. Maybe you’re the same way. If that’s the case, you don’t need to do anything. Just let Steven in. Let him try. He’s the smartest guy I know and he won’t fuck it up again. And if he does,” Jake slides his pointer finger along his neck, “I think you could get the drop on him.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but smile.

Jake and Marc were the kind of big brothers you’d always wanted. Through your training, you’d come to admire their skills, but now, something Steven had said rang through your head. That maybe, it wasn’t all about the Brotherhood. Maybe it was possible to have a family too.

The six of you spaced out, searching the small room.

It didn’t take long before Jake’s sharp eyes found minuscule cracks in the floor.

“They’re not cracks,” his girlfriend said. “They’re the same material as our swords. It’s why they’re so hard to see.”

You’d seen Jake and his girlfriend training together once. There’d never been a deadlier pair in Assassin history. Their blades were practically invisible, much like the people who wielded them. Some kind of ancient technology Steven had long given up trying to figure out.

Some things, Steven had said, were a mix of invention and magic that we didn’t have the capacity to understand yet.

Marc slid his hidden blade out and poked along one of the cracks. Jake and Steven did the same. At first, nothing happened.

Then seam in the floor suddenly opened, hinged a fraction off the rest of the floor, and then collapsed down, along with the one behind it.

You and the other two women were on the wrong side of it and couldn’t act fast enough when the floor opened up beneath the 3 brothers, dumping them down into absolute darkness.

Jake’s girlfriend immediately shone her flashlight down, but the beam disappeared before it hit the bottom.

“They didn’t scream,” you said. You leaned over the edge, listening. “Can you guys hear us?”

There was silence, and then a barely audible response, as if it came from far away.

“No.”

Jake’s girlfriend rolled her eyes. “Only Jake would make a dumb-ass joke like that at a time like this. How far down are you?” She shouted.

“Long way,” came the response. “Wait for us.”

*****

“You guys okay?” Marc said, the three of them untangling out of the heap they’d fallen in.

“Pretty sure I broke an arm, maybe my leg. And my hip feels like it went through a wood chipper,” Jake said with labored breaths.

“My back got twisted around. I’ve got shooting pain down both my legs,” Steven said. “You?”

“Bleeding head wound. Dislocated shoulder.”

There was a sickening pop, a crunch that echoed wetly through the chamber.

“Back in place. I think some of my teeth are loose. Head injury might be worse than I thought. If I pass out, you two have to leave me here and try to get out. That’s an order from a superior, and from your older brother, because I came out first,” Marc said. “Felt like we fell forever. That should’ve killed us.”

“It might still,” Steven said. “What the hell are we going to do?”

Marc tried to delay going into shock, focusing on searching for anything in the darkness. “I think there’s a little bit of light. My eyes are adjusting.”

“Yeah,” Steven said, “very, very little.”

“There’s some kind of platform ahead of us,” Marc said. “Let’s take our time getting there, get out of this water.”

The floor was cold stone, with what felt like an inch or so of liquid at the bottom. The three men gingerly helped each other up and limped toward the low platform. If they’d had anything but trained Assassin’s eyes, they wouldn’t have been able to see anything.

“Something’s off,” Jake said.

Marc took another cautious step forward. “I agree. But let’s get hands on the platform so we can get our bearings.”

“No, I mean something’s off with the platform itself,” Jake said.

The three of them pulled themselves up onto the large stone and laid flat, catching their breath, water and blood running off their bodies and soaking into the stone below.

“Oh bloody hell, it’s some kind of burial marker,” Steven said, his hands tracing over the stone. “Never a good sign. Although I do want to brag a bit about my girlfriend because it turns out she was right. We're laying on some poor fucker's tomb.”

“Here’s the crescent moon. It’s up here by me.” Marc said. He put a hand on Steven’s shoulders. “You okay?”

Steven shook his head. “I can’t feel my legs anymore.”

He reached out to touch the crescent moon.

“Pretty design,” Jake said, his fingers touching the edge. “Know anything about it?”

Steven’s voice was tight from pain. “Doesn’t look familiar. The stone work seems Roman, but these look like Egyptian hieroglyphs. So that could put it somewhere just before 1 BC. But it still doesn’t explain why it’s all the way out here. And how it was constructed.”

“We don’t have a lot of history from that time. The Assassin Brotherhood was just starting out,” Marc said. “Something about ancient beings and how the war to preserve free will began.”

He reached out to touch the crescent moon design along with his brothers. Once he did, the air stilled. All three men felt it, a ripple reaching out from the symbol on the coffin and through their bodies. As injured as they were, it was almost painful.

A deep voice filled the chamber, as if from every direction at once. “I believe in free will, and justice for those who choose poorly.”

“Please tell me you guys hear that too,” Marc said.

“I sense purpose in you,” the deep voice said. “I sense that you’re all worthy of much more than lying here, dying in my tomb, while those you love wait for your return. Will they wait in vain?”

“Who are you?” Jake asked.

“You would call me a God. I’ve been called such a thing before. I prefer to think of myself as justice. Vengeance. As one who was trapped by those you call Templars. I am one who would help you destroy them.”

“I don’t like this,” Steven said.

“Then you will die here,” the voice responded.

Jake reached out his hand to touch his brothers’, to connect them all over the stone moon carved into the rock.

“Whatever he is, he’s right. We can’t make it out of here by ourselves, not with these injuries. Let’s hear him out,” Jake said.

*****

The timer on your watch went off.

“That’s two hours,” you said to the other women.

You’d all agreed to wait until nightfall in the small room, then take shifts staying awake and going to the water source back at the oasis to refill your bottles. Reassess in the morning if you had to. You all knew that any plans beyond that would mean the worst. The three of you would be leaving by yourselves.

You all took turns calling down into the hole the men had fallen into. You hadn’t received another response yet.

You’d been quiet. You didn’t know the other two as well as they knew each other, but it was more than that. You felt almost sick. Steven could be dead, and you’d been too stubborn to tell him you loved him. Even after he’d said the words to you.

Words you’d never heard from anyone before, and never said.

Usually, when people said they were sorry, you didn’t believe them. People didn’t change. You’d learned that a long time ago. Maybe Steven didn’t need to change, though.

You knew Steven better than anyone, even than his brothers maybe. You saw how he tended to get caught up in details and fixations. How his focus helped him in his work, whether it was academics or assassinations.

And you could understand why, when it came to you, he’d focused on the two of you in his lab, working together in your own little world. How he might not have realized that the two of you could exist outside of it.

Steven wanted to prove to you that this was real, that he did believe in you. You wanted desperately to let him have that chance, and tell him “I love you” straight to his beautiful face.

Your watch went off again. You silenced it. It didn’t matter how many times it beeped to signal another hour gone by. You’d stay forever if you had to.

Time ticked by. And by. It was nightfall.

None of you had said much, too nervous. But the silent support was comforting, not something you were used to. Male Assassins outnumbered female ones at an almost embarrassing ratio. It was still called the Brotherhood, a point of contention you’d been meaning to bring up to Marc.

There was something about these women, though, that was more than just being thrown together as a makeshift family.

They had heart and talent. Most of all, you’d need each other. Especially if, well, you didn’t even want to think about the worst.

Something moved in the corner of your eye and you jumped up, the other women drawing weapons. But it was nothing, or rather, something strange.

The crescent moon on the wall, the out of place one in the middle of the ancient illustration, lit up. A perfect yellowy-white moon on a dark background. You looked at the ceiling, but the light seemed to be coming from nowhere.

“Do you hear that?” Jake’s girlfriend said.

And then, you did.

A whooshing or movement from the pit that Marc, Jake, and Steven had fallen down. You rushed over, looking down, the smallest bit of white ascending up toward you at an alarmingly fast pace.

You stood back as the three brothers were raised on a platform that slotted perfectly back into the floor.

You rushed forward into Steven’s waiting arms, holding on so tightly to each other it almost hurt, but you didn’t care. You immediately started crying when he kissed you, his lips hard and searching on yours.

When the kiss ended, you looked Steven over. He seemed uninjured. His usual self, with perfect brown eyes, curly hair a little messy against his forehead. A big smile. And a white suit.

A white suit.

You stepped back.

“I can explain,” Steven said. “It’s complicated, but I promise it makes sense. Actually, no, it doesn’t make sense, but I promise that it’s true.”

“Steven,” Marc said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

And you saw that Marc and Jake were wearing white too. Their faces looked unblemished, unhurt. But they weren’t wearing the clothes they’d fallen through the floor with either. And not their Assassin robes, which they hadn’t even brought with them as far as you knew.

Steven pulled you close again, his hands framing your face. “We were dying, love. We had to save ourselves, had to come back for you. For all three of you. We made a deal with one of the Ancients, one who the Egyptians used to call Konshu.”

You looked at the moon on the wall. “Never make a deal with a God, Steven. That’s the lesson in every fairytale since the beginning of time.”

“That’s why we were gone for so long,” Jake said dryly. “Steven was trying to corner the old bird with logic.”

“I think I did pretty well for myself,” Steven said proudly.

Jake’s girlfriend snorted. “I think he dropped you through the floor so you almost died, then took advantage of you.”

Steven grimaced. “Yeah, there wasn’t much I could do about that one. I think I was paralyzed from the waist down at the time.”

“What?” You yelled.

Steven waved it off. “All water under the proverbial bridge. Marc, Jake, and I are fine. Better than fine actually. You should see the things we can do now.”

“I don’t care how fucking handsome you are in a suit, Steven, you almost died,” you said.

Steven fixed his lapels. “You think I look handsome?”

You groaned in frustration.

Marc laughed under his breath. “Konshu told us to summon our ceremonial suits. Jake and I come out like superheroes with capes and your boyfriend comes out looking like-“

“Don’t say it,” Steven cut him off. “You’re just jealous you’re stuck looking like you lost a fight with a mummy and I look like-“

“The lawyer who handled my case the three times they tried to put me in juvie,” Jake said.

“Don’t know what that even is, so I’m taking it as a compliment,” Steven said. He rested his hands on your waist. “All I could think about down there was you.”

Whatever terrified grip had been seizing your heart for hours, loosened.

“I was up here going over and over everything I said, what I didn’t say. I love you, Steven.”

His eyes lit up. “I promise, I’ll give you anything you want. We can handcuff ourselves together. I’ll hand-write notes to every single person in the Brotherhood.”

You kissed him on the mouth, quick and hard. “I just want you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I’m kind of a package deal,” Steven said with a smile, pointing his thumb back at the other four people in the room, who were having their own reunions of sorts.

Marc was taking what seemed like endless golden crescents out of his chest, showing his girlfriend the intricate markings, surprising you by summoning a hood that hid his face and hair, gave him white, glowing eyes.

Jake’s girlfriend was trying her best to look unimpressed. He was intimidating in his white and black suit, like he could blend into the night. He materialized a deadly-looking staff weapon out of thin air, though his sword was still strapped to his hip.

“I can live with that,” you said to Steven. “We seem like a fun bunch of people.”

Steven wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “I hope so. I think we’ll be around each other more, the three of us’ll be stronger together.”

You brushed a curl away from Steven’s forehead. “Weren’t you always?”

“Bloody brilliant, you are,” Steven said, leaning down to kiss you. “You’re going to make me look a fool, running circles around me in my department when I’m away on missions. But I look forward to it.”

“I can’t-“

“You can. I believe in you,” Steven said firmly.

His eyes had a look you recognized well: determination and the strength of his convictions. It’s how he used to look when he was talking about his brothers, or the Brotherhood itself. Now, he looked at you like that.

Steven cupped your face, ran his thumb over your cheek. “I’ve always had faith in the Assassins, but recently I’ve been wondering if our faith isn’t a little bit narrow for how bad things have gotten in the world. I don’t think fighting Templars is enough. We’ve been losing this war because we keep trying to fight it on their terms. With these powers, and with you by my side, I think the Brotherhood can be so much more.”

Steven looked back at Marc and Jake, who stared back in silent conversation. Marc nodded once.

Jake noticed you scrutinizing them and pointed to his head. “We can talk to each other without speaking now,” he said. “Apparently one of the perks of the new job.”

Marc sighed. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearing the two of you in my head.”

“What job?” You asked Steven.

“Well, we’re still Assassins, but now we’re protectors too,” he said, a bit of pride creeping into his voice.

“Who do you protect?” You said. You touched the fabric of his suit, the buttons on his vest.

“People like you used to be, love. Before you found us,” Steven said quietly. “Your life’s been difficult, yeah? And that wasn’t the Templars doing, at least not directly. We need to get back to the roots of our organization. That starts with all of us. Patrolling the streets of the cities we’re working in. Redistributing Templar wealth. Taking in children or young people who might need a home, and not turning them into killing machines.”

“Unless they want to be. Because I definitely did,” you said with a grin.

Steven smiled, his usual almost goofy look replacing the serious one. “Fair enough.” He leaned in to kiss you softly. “This family’s going to change the future. You and me, love.”

Your heart felt fuller than it ever had. Full of Steven. He'd redefined what you’d thought you were capable of, and how much love you thought you could feel.

You’d always thought Steven was the brains behind the Brotherhood. You’d been looking at it all wrong, though. Steven was the heart.

And his heart, you knew for certain, belonged to you.

--END--

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#steven grant x reader #moon knight #I need me a Steven Grant please #Dad-er had me LAUGHING

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myhohastuff · 1 year ago

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I have never related to a post more in my life 😂

Most Joel fics: dbf!joel x reader

Me, who doesn’t have a dad, hence why is reading fics about a 50 year old man:🧍‍♀️ lol

#joel can be my dad iykwim 👀#no dad life

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myhohastuff · 1 year ago

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IF PEDRO PLAYS GUITAR IN S2, I AM GOING TO DROP DEAD!

my first post here:O i have absolutely no idea what i’m doing but🕺my season 2 pedro seems like a good introduction

#this is so so so gorgeous!#joel miller #pedro pascal #guitar

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myhohastuff · 1 year ago

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WORTH THE WAIT LOVE, TOTALLY WORTH THE WAIT 🤍

Taweret has my heart!

Reach for the Moon | II. The Falling

PAIRINGS: (Slow Burn, Romantic) Jake Lockley x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader, (Platonic) Steven Grant x Southeast Asian!Fem Reader, (Unrequited) Marc Spector x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader, no use of Y/N, no physical description of the reader but coded to be very feminine

WARNINGS: Unrequited love (Reader is in love with Marc, Marc is oblivious but means well), mentions and discussions of food (cooking and baking), italics in dialogue indicates Reader and her parents speaking a foreign language (unspecified), brief mention of middle school and high school, so much yearning and fluff that you might get a toothache

WORD COUNT: 7.3k

Inspired by the 1954 film & 1995 remake of Sabrina, No Moon Knight AU.

SERIES MASTERLIST | PART I. THE BREAKING

CHAPTER SUMMARY: The wall begins to crumble, revealing the White Knight waiting on the other side. You soon learn there is more to the man beneath the armor, and see the heart that lies within.

TAGLIST: @soft-girl-musings, @venting402, @musing-magpie, @writefightandflightclub, @kezibear, @silverklaus, @badbishsblog, @marc-spectorr, @myhohastuff, @grumpyahjumma, @h4untedsp3ctor, @harv3sting

See end for author's notes

THE FALLING

The next couple of weeks were quiet, but eventful as the days grew shorter into the start of autumn. As the leaves changed from green to red and the air grew colder, you found solace in the change of seasons. A new season brought new beginnings, and life had a way of bringing you into unexpected places.

Since the success of your cousin’s bakery (the Mochi Flower Bakery and Café, as you and your cousin affectionately named it) in Singapore, your family considered expanding the business to New York. You exchanged ideas and recipes over video calls with your cousin, aunt, and uncle as your parents researched possible places to open up shop. It was all new and exciting, and in hindsight, distracted you from the heartache of being left at the market that summer night. There was no better distraction than trying to perfect the recipe for the most delicious lemon ricotta cake.

Marc texted you a few days later with an apology. He left you a voicemail as well (you were running errands when he called), and as you listened to his apology, you still could not find it in yourself to be upset with him for leaving you. How could you be angry with him when you still harbored an unrequited crush on him almost three years later?

When he offered to meet with you to make amends, you politely declined with an excuse that you were visiting an old college friend from out of town, but in reality, you did not know if you could face him again.

After that night, you carefully discarded the daffodils he had given you when he picked you up from the airport. Your heart was numb as you stared at the dried petals in the wastebasket, your eyes puffy and swollen for the next few nights. Could you truly mourn a loss if he was never yours?

You never told your parents or Steven the truth of the date, and you wondered if they knew. If they did, your parents never said anything, but your best friend —ever the perceptive man— seemed to know the truth, even when you tried to hide it from him.

It was a Sunday night when Steven was with you in the kitchen. While your parents were watching a drama in the living room, you and Steven wore matching aprons as he helped you bake a vegan blueberry cake.

“In the middle of my tour, I was talking about the Egyptian mummification process when one of the girls interrupted me and asked if I knew what it was like to be rejected from the Field of Reeds,” Steven told you as you frosted the cake. “Honestly, middle school girls can be vicious, especially when some of her friends laughed with her.”

You looked over at him, your eyes soft as you placed a gentle hand over his. “Kids can be brutal, but they’re just kids. I was a middle school girl once, and we aren’t all bad. People change.”

Steven smiled softly with a sigh as you finished frosting the cake. You wanted to replicate a vintage cake with different shades of blue and ivory cream, and you hoped that you were not putting too much buttercream. As pretty as vintage cakes looked, you did not like wasting the cream when you knew most people do not eat all of it. You were more accustomed to your desserts being on the lighter side of the sweetness scale, and ever since your return from Singapore, you had a hard time stomaching American pastries.

“You’re right about that love,” Steven agreed. Once you set the piping bag aside, he moved to start decorating the top with blueberries. “They’re just kids, but they’ll change and grow. But I admit, I was feeling a little sassy too.”

You lowered your hands and looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” You narrowed your eyes at him, lightly swatting his hand as he sneakily tried to eat a few blueberries. “I just told her that the souls in the duat would try to claim anyone who fell in the sand, and that she better hope that if I was rejected, I wouldn’t be the first one to eat her.”

“Steven Grant!”

Your best friend chuckled as you scolded him, narrowly dodging your wooden spoon. “She was being rather nasty throughout the tour, so I had to give her a reality check.”

You let out a dejected sigh as he grabbed another handful of blueberries from the basket. You did not have the heart to tell him to stop since you already finished decorating the cake.

For as long as you have known Steven, he was quite a character. Smart and quick-witted, he always fired back in the most eloquent manner.

“Okay, maybe she deserved it,” you told him, trying not to roll your eyes as he grinned mischievously beside you. “But I’m not condoning it.”

You moved over to the stove to pour yourself, Steven, and your parents a cup of tea. Throughout your life, your parents always liked a cup of tea with their dessert, and through the years, you got Steven into that habit as well.

Your best friend hummed quietly as he helped set the cups on the counter, his fingers lightly tracing the small teacup. It was one of your favorite sets, white with a dark blue floral design painted across the ceramic with a matching saucer and golden teaspoon.

“I don’t think I’ve seen this set before,” Steven mused as you placed the kettle back onto the stove. “When did you get this?”

Heat licked at your cheeks, your heart pounding as you looked down at the cup. The warmth of the tea burned your fingers slightly as you held the teacup in your hands, and if you pulled away, you wondered if the flowers burned onto your skin like a brand that would never heal.

“Marc got it for me for my birthday before I went to Singapore,” you answered quietly, your voice low. “I don’t remember where he got it, but he said he knew someone who knew where to find tea sets.”

A dull ache grew in the depths of your chest as you remembered your last birthday before you left for Singapore. Your parents took you out of town to celebrate the Friday before your birthday, and that weekend, your mother cooked your favorite noodles (“for long life,” she would always say) and your father commissioned one of his coworkers to bake a special cake for you. You celebrated one day with your family, and another with your old childhood and college friends. It was a wonderful sendoff before your departure, but you could not help but feel nostalgic at the memory.

One day, you lamented to Marc how much you wanted a matching tea set. A few times you traveled with your parents as a teenager to the Lion City where you admired your aunt’s tea sets that she displayed in their china cabinet. You remembered how much your mother pestered your father to buy any matching dinnerware whenever there was a sale at her favorite department store, especially when there were tea sets. While your family did not have much when they immigrated to the United States, your mother would tell you that her parents collected china and other sets as family heirlooms. She wished she could have taken it with her to New York, and you wanted to help her create a collection here.

A few days before your birthday, Marc dropped by your place with a gift box wrapped beautifully with a navy blue bow on top. Your parents were in the kitchen eavesdropping as you opened the gift on the living room floor with Marc at your side.

“Marc, it’s beautiful,” you told him. You held the ceramic delicately in your hands, sighing in awe as you turned it over. The dark blue floral design was nostalgic and intricate. “They look just like the ones that my aunt and uncle have back home.”

He smiled gently at you, his arms warm as you hugged him. “I’m glad you liked it. Happy birthday, kid.”

You placed your teacup down on the saucer and sighed. Out of all the tea sets you owned, you rarely used the blue one that Marc had given you. It was your favorite, and as much as your mother wanted to take it down from the china cabinet to use, you always told her that you wanted to save it for special occasions.

But since that night, you brought it down from the cabinet. Your mother didn’t say anything when she watched you wash the set in the sink, and you wondered if she knew the real reason you brought it down.

He was quiet as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Did Marc hurt you?”

You felt his eyes on you as you rolled the golden teaspoon between your fingers. You did not know if you had the courage to look at him.

Instead of answering, you shook your head. Steven sighed beside you, and you knew he did not believe you.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Tears pricked your eyes, and you quickly brushed them away with the back of your hand.

“There’s nothing to talk about. He still loves her, and I have to move on,” you answered as you turned to him with a weak smile. “I have to grow up and be a big girl now.”

His brown eyes softened, but full of worry as he looked at you.

“Don’t blame yourself, love,” he comforted you. “He still cares about you.”

You knew that Marc still cared for you as a friend, but deep down, you knew he would never love you the way you loved him.

“I know,” you whispered. You wiped at your eyes again and sighed, trying to get your mind off it. “Let’s cut the cake and bring the tea in the living room for my parents. They’re too engrossed in their drama to get off the couch.”

He chuckled softly, and you were grateful he did not bring it up again for the rest of the night. For the rest of the evening, you and Steven sat with your parents in the living room drinking tea and eating cake as they explained the romantic drama they were watching. It was a show that you remembered watching with your cousin in Singapore, and you could not help but smile as you saw how engrossed Steve became with the plot and characters.

At the end of the night, you packed a few slices of the cake (with extra blueberries, per Steven’s request) for Steven to take home for Marc and Jake. As you walked him to the bus stop at the end of your street, he turned to you and pulled you into his arms, his voice soft and gentle.

“I am always here for you, love,” he whispered, “whenever you need me.”

Your heart ached as he comforted you, and you pulled him tighter into your embrace.

“Thank you.”

You sit in the kitchen with ink stained on your fingers as you look over the drawings of cakes, cupcakes, and different pastries in your sketchbook. Jake texted you earlier that afternoon if you wanted to join him in surprising his neighbor for her birthday. Taweret lived alone with the rest of her family back in Cairo, and she only had a couple friends with her in New York. There were a few times you encountered her whenever you visited his apartment (mainly to cook and exchange recipes with Steven), you became acquainted with the elderly lady. Whenever she saw you, she always requested to try whatever baked goods that you brought with you. Because of her, you always packed extra sweets, knowing how much she adored you and you, her.

Your parents were not too familiar with Jake, but they knew enough that he was quite old-fashioned and polite (and “reminiscent of the gentlemen of my youth,” your mother remarked to your father’s chagrin). You wondered if they were relieved that it was not Marc at the door when Jake dropped you off after your “date.”

True to his word, he was around much more than before and met with you often. In the times that you two met, they were casual outings where you would grab a bite to eat or a drink at the local coffee shop. Other times, you asked him to tag along with you as you ran a few errands around town. It was during those times he offered to drive you, especially when you were grocery shopping for ingredients to try new recipes to add to a possible menu. He never accepted gas money from you (despite all the sneaky ways you tried to bribe him), but you compromised and treated him —and Steven and Marc— to any baked goods you created.

Once you are satisfied with your revisions, you tuck your journal into your bag and take a seat at the kitchen island, your eyes locked on the oven window. While you are in charge of the cake, Jake is in charge of dinner, explaining he was going to try to make a traditional Egyptian dish. As he was already at the supermarket to pick up some groceries, he told you that he would pick you up since he would pass by your place on the way back.

Different ingredients scatter the counter between the two of you as you organize your supplies. While you have your powdered sugar and tray on one side, Jake has his supplies and containers on the other, including a tupperware of cooked elbow macaroni, tomato sauce, and a bag of store-bought fried onions.

Jake stands at the stove with his back turned to you. Even on a casual Thursday night, he is dressed in his usual white button-down dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing his warm tan skin. The only difference between his house clothes and outside clothes was the lack of his flat cap and tie, and his dress pants swapped with jeans and a plain apron to cover himself.

Curiously, you stand beside him and watch as he stirs the lentils and rice together in a pot. The smell of coriander and pepper welcomes you, and your tummy grumbles at the smell and sight.

“What are you making?”

“Koshari, I remember Taweret mentioning how much she misses eating it from back home. I watched a few tutorials and researched the recipe, and I hope I got it down,” he answers with a small smile.

Then, he leans over to the side and pulls out a spoon from the drawer to hand to you.

“Give it a try and let me know how it is, or if I’m missing anything. Once this is done, I just need to combine everything together.”

You grin as you dip the spoon into the pot. The tangy and spicy flavor fills your mouth in heat, but not too much that it would burn your tongue. It was enough spice to give the kick it needed.

“It’s a little spicy, but not too spicy. It’s delicious,” you tell him with an encouraging smile. “I’ve always been curious to try your cooking. Steven says you’re the best cook between the three of you.”

He pauses slightly as he turns to you. His face is slightly flushed, his brown eyes wide in surprise at your words. “He said that?”

You smile with a nod of your head. “He did. When I visited him at the Smithsonian last week for lunch, he told me you made vegan shakshuka for him and he loved it. He said it was better than the shakshuka he normally makes.”

You remember sitting on the steps outside of the museum last week when you stopped by to see him during his lunch break. It was a beautiful autumn day where the museum was not too busy on a Tuesday afternoon, and his boss was kind enough to give him an extended break after doing several grade school tours that week.

“I experimented and made some bagels last night, and I made a couple vegan ones for you,” you told him as you unwrapped the bagels on your lap. Your best friend smiled and thanked you as you handed it over to him. “I hope you like it, it’s my first time making bagels.”

“I know it’ll be great. Jake made a batch of vegan shakshuka for me and I think this would be a good match.” Steven opened his lunch and dipped the bread in his tupperware, even offering you a piece as you followed his instructions to dip your piece into the stew. “I don’t know how he did it, but he mastered it. I’ve been trying to make a decent version for months, and his version tastes better than all of my previous attempts. He’s the best cook out of all of us.”

As you look over at Jake, you are stunned to see his surprise. While you met Steven first and became friends with Marc second, it seemed that there were more layers to Jake than you realize. You knew that he was a private person who kept to himself, and you once believed he was an aloof individual who often kept people at arm’s length in the backseat of his car to keep his privacy. In the past, you only conversed with him from time to time, but over the past few months, you see that he is more sentimental than he appears to be.

A knowing smile kisses your lips as he tries to hide his smile from you. You give him the privacy to cherish the moment as you turn back to the oven to watch the cake slowly rise.

“Can I say something?” You ask.

He hums slightly and nods as he turns off the stove.

Wanting to help him, you reach for the bowl of chickpeas and heat them in the microwave. “You remind me of a tiramisu.”

He pauses for a moment with a soft chuckle, amused. “A tiramisu?”

You nod with a small smile. “Yes, a tiramisu. Before I got to know you, I used to think you were a bit detached with how private you are. I didn’t know much about you except from what Steven and Marc told me, and we only met a few times before I left for Singapore.”

At the beep of the microwave, Jake hands you the oven mitts to take the chickpeas out. You move closer to him as the two of you prepare to mix the lentils, rice, tomato sauce, pasta, and chickpeas together.

“What changed your mind?” He asks quietly.

You think about his words as you plate the rice and lentils. “Spending time with you,” you answer. “The more time I spend with you, whether it’s you taking me to the bodega or the Asian supermarket, or even moments like these, you’ve shown me there’s more to you than people think. You’re private, but you’re also very kind.”

Jake steps closer to you to place the pasta and chickpeas on top. You could not read his expression. Did he find you weird and strange? Was he upset or offended?

As you move to hand him the tomato sauce, his hands reach for yours, helping you and quietly telling you to be careful since the bowl was still warm from when he cooked it earlier.

His brown eyes flicker with amusement and curiosity as he glances up at you.

“I still do not see how this pertains to me reminding you of tiramisu, conejita.”

You laugh softly as you look down at the koshari on the plate.

“Tiramisu is like this dish,” you explain as he mixes everything together. “You may look a bit off-putting at first with how reserved and quiet you are, but that’s not a bad thing. The closer you look, there are different layers. They seem strange when they are all separated, but once you dig through the layers, you are very sweet like a tiramisu.”

Your eyes glance over at him, and you notice how his movements seem to slow as he waits for your next words.

“You made Steven shakshuka and you cooked Taweret’s favorite dish to surprise her for her birthday so she won’t be alone. You take care of people in a quiet way,” your voice grows softer as you speak, your heart aching slightly at the memories. “Twice, you found me crying and alone, and you were the one to bring me back home.”

His gaze softens as he looks at you, and for a moment, you are brought back to that summer evening when Marc left you at the night market. You still remembered the heartbroken look on his face, the pain in his eyes, and the fear in his voice when he left. He was in so much pain, and even with your heart breaking in front of him, you wished you could take his pain away from him.

Since that night, Marc left you a voicemail with his apology and wished to meet with you again, and as much as it hurt you, you kept your distance. It pained you how quick you were able to think of another reason why you could not see him. Perhaps with each text, you could finally cut those heartstrings, be a big girl, and move on.

Yet, the ache remained. It splintered deep inside of you like a tree taking deep roots in your chest, leaving a scar that you feared would never heal.

“How is he doing, by the way?” You ask quietly as your lips begin to quiver. “Is he alright?”

He does not say anything for a moment as his gaze washes over you, and you wonder if he knew about your feelings for Marc. If he did, he never showed it.

His voice is gentle as he speaks, his eyes soft.

“Marc is doing just fine,” he answers. “Steven and I are looking after him.”

You want to believe him, but a part of you hesitates. While you did not know the relationship between the three men, you did know one thing. Marc was perceptive, and he would worry. The last thing you wanted him to think was that he hurt you— you knew he would never forgive himself if he believed it.

To your surprise, Jake leans forward and moves closer to you, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. You blink in surprise and take a step back at his sudden movement.

“You have flour on your face,” he whispers. “Hold on.”

Suddenly, you feel the world stop around you as his hand softly caresses your face. You hold still, your heart beating rapidly in your chest as his thumb brushes the flour off your cheek. His touch is gentle and light, and he holds you as if you are a delicate thing. This was the first time Jake touched you like this and for a reason you could not explain, it was electrifying. It is as if he lit a flame and you are melting like candle wax under his touch.

Your head is still spinning when he pulls away. Your throat constricts as he looks at you, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe.

You do not know what has come over you. As his gaze meets yours, the two of you are quiet with the only sound of your flustered breath filling the silence. While he shared the same face as Marc and Steven, it is the first time you see him up close.

His eyes are just as brown, but there is a different softness to them in the kitchen light. A certain warmth fills his gaze—although intense—there is a sense of safety and familiarity as the corners of his eyes crinkle into a whisper of a comforting smile. A dark stray curl rests on his forehead, and if you look close enough, you catch slivers of starlight dusting at his temples.

You always believed Jake to be a handsome man, and in the past couple of months that you have gotten to know him, you see him differently. He is the kind of handsome that you read in your romance novels, the quiet gentleman who was always by the heroine’s side, and in that moment, you understand why people have always gravitated towards him.

You have looked at him many times before, but your heart begins to ache in your chest. He wiped away your tears before and has comforted you in your most heartbroken and vulnerable moments, so why would brushing flour away cause you to feel like you are sixteen again?

The sound of the timer interrupts your thoughts. You gasp softly and quickly turn away to grab the oven mitts, welcoming the distraction from your heated cheeks and your beating heart.

As you pull the cake out of the oven, you hear Jake pull away from you and the sound of a utensil scraping against the bottom of the pan. You set the cake onto the counter and are grateful for this moment—you are not sure if you had the courage to look at him yet.

With a deep breath, you glance down at the cake. The cake baked into a beautiful summer yellow with the edges a golden brown. It was perfect and exactly how you envisioned it.

His voice breaks your thoughts, and it takes everything in you to not look at him.

“What kind of cake did you make?”

“Lemon ricotta,” you answer softly. Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for the strainer and powdered sugar from across the counter. You feel his eyes on you, and as much as you try to hide it, you still feel nervous in front of him. “I made a lemon ricotta cake once a few months ago and Taweret said she loved it, so I wanted to make it for her again.”

Taking a deep breath, you ignore the way your hands tremble and begin to sift the flour and powder the cake with a light dusting of sugar for decoration. The two of you quietly work on completing your dishes with only the sound of a soft ballad playing from his vinyl record player in the living room.

Once you are finished, you set your tools aside and look down at the cake. Lemon ricotta was not your specialty as you only baked it a couple times, and you worried about how it looked. Would she even like the cake with how simple and plain it looked?

“I want it to be perfect for her,” you whisper softly. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

His footsteps echo behind you. As he stands beside you, your head begins to spin. The warmth of his body radiates off him, and even as he stands a few inches beside you, the heat of his touch lingers on your skin.

“That woman loves everything about you and adores you,” Jake assures you. “She’ll love it. I know she will.”

Warmth kisses your cheeks at his encouraging words. You never doubted your skills as a pastry chef, but hearing such praise from Jake strikes a chord in you. There were no words to describe your feelings at the moment. A foreign feeling tugged at your heart, reminiscent of butterflies that once fluttered in your tummy.

“Go ahead and set the table,” he instructs as he gathers your supplies. “I’ll clean up. I already texted Taweret and she’ll be here in a few minutes.”

He smiles encouragingly at you, and you move to set the table. As you arrange the plates and utensils, you spare another look at Jake and watch him set the pots and pans in the dishwasher. You have spent countless days and afternoons in the kitchen with Steven and Marc in the past, but this is your first time to be in the kitchen with Jake.

A few months ago when you returned from Singapore, you never would have thought that you would be baking by his side in the kitchen where you shared so many memories with his brothers. It was strange since you were not used to seeing Jake in such a domestic way, but it brings an odd comfort and warmth to you as he whistles in the kitchen.

You smile to yourself as you look down at the golden cake sitting at the edge of the table. In the past, you baked mochi for your family, lemon ricotta cake for Taweret, blueberry cake for Steven, and rocky road for Marc. There were so many layers to who he is, and you hope one day, you could bake Jake a sweet tiramisu.

The moon was high in the sky by the time Jake opened the passenger door for you to take you home. Not a single cloud was in sight, and the stars twinkled like pearls of light above you.

It truly was a beautiful evening. When Taweret arrived, her face lit up like the rising dawn. Without a second thought, she pulled you and Jake into her embrace. Your eyes began to mist when you felt a few drops of her tears fall onto your blouse, but you smiled warmly at her as Jake kissed her forehead and told her how much he loved her. You have only known Taweret for a short amount of time, but you were already fond of her and looked up to her as a mother figure.

Smiles, laughter, and memories were shared over dinner. As the three of you finished his koshari, Taweret spoke about her favorite childhood memories. You listened intently as she recalled not only her childhood, but her “wild youth” from running around with her girlfriends in Cairo and arguing with the university boys and rival sorority sisters. The three of you laughed until your ribs ached, your cheeks sore from smiling, and your tummy full from the warmth and love poured into the food that was shared.

And to your surprise, Taweret loved the lemon ricotta birthday cake. She patted your cheek affectionately as you served her the first slice with a gentle and warm smile on her face.

“Thank you, darling,” she beamed, “you always make the sweetest cakes.”

As you are about to thank her, Jake leaned in beside her, a knowing smile and wink as he sung the highest praises for you.

“She baked everything with love,” he told her, and your cheeks instantly heated at his kind words. “That’s her secret ingredient.”

Jake only smiled at you as you looked down at the yellow cake on your plate, hoping to find some solace on the finely dusted sugar sitting on top of your masterpiece. You barely heard them speak over the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears and the warmth kissing at your soft cheeks. This was not the first time Jake complimented your strengths, so why are you suddenly shy and bashful like a schoolgirl?

You vaguely recalled the last time you felt like this. Before you left for Singapore, you remembered sitting at a picnic bench with Marc as his way of bidding you bon voyage. He carried the picnic basket over to the bench and helped you arrange the pieces on the table.

“Since I’m also helping out with their social media and marketing, I might as well start practicing how to take the best pictures and videos for advertising,” you remarked as you finished taking pictures of the set-up. You had a blanket draped over the table with minimal cutlery and accessories. “Don’t you think?”

Marc chuckled beside you as you put your phone in your bag. You would edit the photos when you get home and send them to your cousin later for her to critique. “I thought your generation was tech savvy and grew up on the internet?”

“I’m on the cusp and was fortunate that the internet was still starting out. It wasn’t as crazy as it is now. Besides, I don’t have many social media handles for a reason,” you answered, “I don’t want people from high school finding me.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Why not?”

“I closed that chapter in my life. When I go to my high school reunion years from now, I want everyone to be surprised to see how much I’ve matured and grown up,” you sighed wistfully, imagining a romantic moment in your future reunion. “If they have any difficulty in recognizing their classmate, then I shall be the most sophisticated woman in the high school gymnasium.”

Your high school days were not the worst, but they were not the greatest, either. Your teenage days were not that far behind you, but you still had so much to look forward to in the years to come.

An amused smile shined on your friend’s face as he leaned forward and patted a piece of your hair.

“You are already a beautiful, intelligent, and sophisticated young woman,” he complimented you with a playful tap on your nose. “You will be the belle of the ball.”

But the days and nights you spent with Marc were long gone. Deep down, you grieved the chapter of your life where you were by his side. You convinced yourself into thinking the two of you were fated to be together for the rest of your lives, but life had its own way of cutting that invisible string you deluded yourself was tied between your fingers. The dried daffodils in your wastebasket was the evidence to the end of your fantasies.

Yet, the universe had a strange way of bringing things full circle. As you bury the thoughts of Marc aside, a sense of déjà vu washes over you with your heart feeling as hopeful as that night when Jake first found you on the steps outside of his apartment. It was odd to think that in the two years you spent away from home, Jake rarely passed your mind.

Now, your thoughts gravitated towards him. The ghost of his touch lingered from when he brushed away the flour on your cheek, and his praise echoed in your ears like a distant lullaby. It was as if your heart would burst from your chest with each moment you replayed in your mind and you wondered if you could trust yourself to open up again.

Before you could entertain that thought, the sound of his voice breaks the silence.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” Jake glances over at you with a small smile, one gloved hand on the steering wheel, the other adjusting the rear view mirror. “I know it was a short notice.”

You smile reassuringly at him from the passenger side. “It was no problem, thank you for inviting me. I’m happy that we were able to celebrate her special day.”

You do not see Taweret often, but after tonight, you promise yourself that you would reach out to her more. She was such a character, and you make a note to give her extra delicacies you create in the future, especially if it involves lemon ricotta.

Jake grins at you as he stops at the stoplight, his voice light and airy.

“She adores you and talks about you like you hung the moon.” He spares you a glance with a gentle smile. “And she loved every bit of your cake.”

“Oh—” your cheeks grow warm at his words. The thought of Taweret talking about you so sweetly made your heart swell, especially when you were so worried that her birthday cake was plain.

He chuckles softly. “If it’s okay to ask, when did you start baking?”

You think for a moment as the two of you watch a few college students cross the street. “I’ve always had a sweet tooth, but growing up, I did not like American candy as much. It was always too sweet, and sometimes I felt like throwing up when I had cake. Nothing tasted like the snacks and sweets I would get from the Asian supermarket.”

You smile fondly as you remember your childhood. Growing up, there was not an Asian supermarket near your neighborhood. Most weekends, you dragged behind your parents as they bought their groceries at big retailers, and the only times you grew excited were when they either brought you to the local bodegas so you could pet the owner’s guard dogs (who were surprisingly gentle with children), or the Asian markets that were out of town. It was only until high school when they established one a few blocks away and within walking distance, and you were finally able to grab your favorite Meiji snacks.

“I often had too much time on my hands during the summer breaks, so I experimented in the kitchen. My mom never liked baking, but I saved up to buy some supplies, watched tutorials on YouTube, and even chatted with my cousin for ideas,” you laugh lightly. “It started when I was in middle school when we had a bake sale for fundraising, and I fell in love with it since.”

The light turns green, and Jake nods as he follows along.

“What would you say is your favorite to bake? Or, what would you say is your specialty?”

Your heart flutters in your chest at his question. It is not often someone asks about your favorites, let alone your specialty. You are so used to taking requests and baking for others based on their favorites, but rarely did someone ask about yours.

“Strawberry cake,” you answer, thinking about the colorful pink hue of the cakes you made in the past. “Especially with buttercream.”

“Like strawberry shortcake?”

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s easy to confuse the two based on their names, but strawberry shortcake is different since that’s shortbread with strawberries on top. Strawberry cake—”

“I know,” he laughs with a slight shake of his head. “I meant the character.”

Oh. Oh!

Heat envelopes your face at the thought. You adored Strawberry Shortcake as a little girl and collected the books, plushies, stickers, almost anything with your favorite freckled heroine. Even though she is in the arms of another child, you remember your Strawberry Shortcake doll that you used to carry with you everywhere with her apron smelling just like freshly cut strawberries.

When you did not respond, Jake immediately tried to correct himself.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you—”

“No, not at all,” you laugh. “She was one of my favorites as a child. Being compared to her makes me happy, so thank you.”

From the corner of your eye, you notice him smile in relief. You look down at the plastic bag full of tupperwares on your lap. As you cleaned the dinner table, you did not realize that Jake prepared extra koshari for you to take home to your family in extra tupperwares.

“And thank you for the food, too. I’ll have this for lunch tomorrow.”

He smiles at you, his voice soft. “You’re welcome.”

Life had a strange way of bringing things full circle. Filled with warmth, a sense of déjà vu washes over you with your heart feeling as light as that night when he first found you on the steps outside of his apartment. Not once, but twice he found you heartbroken, but since you returned to New York, your nights were spent with him where you would watch him from the passenger side. The wall that separated you two had begun to crumble, revealing the man dressed in white knight armor.

The fluttering of your heart confuses you when he parks in the driveway. Your pulse echoes in your ears as he opens your door with a gloved hand outstretched towards you, and your legs begin to shake with each step you take towards your front door. Why does the warmth of his glove burn your skin? Why does he suddenly make you skittish like a frightened deer?

It must be because he touched my face, you reason with yourself when you step inside. Your parents greet him with friendly smiles, and for unknown reasons, you feel a tug on your heartstrings when he lifts his hat at you.

As he walks away, you are left standing in the kitchen with a cold tupperware of koshari in your hands. Your parents kiss your cheek before walking up the stairs, and with each kiss, you imagine what it would feel like if Jake’s lips kissed your cheeks goodnight.

The early afternoon sunlight streams through your curtains when you wake that morning. Downstairs, you hear your father playing his favorite old songs on his speaker, the foreign language bringing you comfort and a sense of nostalgia. It was finally the weekend.

With a yawn, you force yourself out of bed and walk down the stairs. The love ballads grow louder, and you find your mother seated at the kitchen table with breakfast leftovers covered with a napkin.

“Good morning, baby,” she greets you as you smile sleepily at her. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod and rub your eyes while taking a seat in front of her. Last night, you spent a few hours on Messenger talking to your cousin about the newest addition they added to the Mochi Flower Bakery and Cafe. While the Mochi Flower was best known for matcha mochi cake, your cousin wanted to expand the menu to keep up with their local competitors. She shared with you the different designs that were shared with the class that included floral prints and a few beloved childhood characters like Hello Kitty. A couple months ago, she took a class from a masterclass baker on how to add such delicate designs to a sponge cake, and she’s been in love with it ever since.

Before you realized it, you were on Messenger for almost three hours. It was nearly three in the morning when you ended the call, your mind reeling from the designs she showed you. Both of your families considered opening a sister bakery in New York, and with each call you had with her over the spotty internet, the idea no longer felt like a dream, but a possibility.

“I did,” you answer, looking at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. You did not realize it was past noon. “I haven’t slept in like this since my last semester of college.”

Your mother laughs, and you laugh along with her. The twelve hour time difference was tough, and you were honestly surprised her internet lasted that long with minimal interruptions.

At that moment, your father walks in and greets you good morning with a soft kiss to the top of your head as he places a bowl of cut strawberries in front of you.

Your eyes widen slightly at the vibrant hue. “Papa, did you go to the grocery store this morning? When did we have strawberries?”

Your father shakes his head. “I didn’t buy them. Your driver friend dropped them off this morning.”

Driver friend? You wonder, knowing your father often forgets the names of your friends. Did he mean Jake? You have not talked to him in a couple weeks, not since Taweret’s birthday.

“The gentleman with the hat,” your mother clarifies. “He came by this morning and dropped off a box of strawberries that he got at the farmer’s market. He said it was for you.”

Your heart skips a beat as she hands you a yellow post-it note. Across the page, you memorize the straight lines of Jake’s handwriting, softly tilted in black ink.

For your strawberry cake - J

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thank you so much for your support! The idea of Conejita and White Knight!Jake has been floating around in my head for about a year, and with time, they finally came to fruition. Special thanks to @soft-girl-musings for listening to my ideas and late night texts on Discord. My laptop has been out of commission as of late, so I was unfortunately unable to post this sooner, but it's finally here!

To be honest, this series started when I was quarantined with COVID (part 1 was written when I had it the first time, part 2 the second time I had COVID, go figure lol). It makes me so happy to see that you have grown fond of conejita as well. I am a slow writer, and I want to thank everyone of you for your patience and support.

Originally it was going to be a trilogy, but since I am notorious for writing long fics, this series will most likely be four parts instead! I have a couple more characters I want to introduce. If you want to continue being on the taglist, please let me know. Stay tuned for updates and any future fics! I have a few more I want to put out this summer 🤍

Love, Celeste

#Taweret you lovely lady #Jake girlie now #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader

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myhohastuff · 1 year ago

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AAAAAAH THE MOMENT I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR 😭😭 Im so excited 🤍🤍

it's been almost four months, but i finished part 2 of reach for the moon!! i'll most likely post it this weekend 🥰

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myhohastuff · 1 year ago

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what the water gave us

Merman!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: the fairytales were half true, the merman you found is indeed handsome but oh so grouchy

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, merman/human relationship, unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but Joel is older) instances of blood & injury, brief violence, Joel still being a terrifying force even as a merman, very light discussion of grief & loss of a loved one (Joel with Sarah & reader with their father) grumpy but soft!Joel, sharing food as a love language, use of nickname, protective!Joel, slightly possessive!Joel, f!oral receiving - along with spicy moments, mentions of mating & merfolk courting rituals

word count: 7.6k

a/n: here it is - the nice final surprise for our mermay mini series, this is for all of us who would kiss fuck the handsome merman lol! Thank you to @pr0ximamidnight for letting me scream about this & to @the-wild-wolves-around-you for always being the best support - and to you, if you’re reading this, thank you so much ♡

The sun hangs low against the sky, painting the world in a soft orange creamsicle shade. Sliding your shoes off, you sink into the soft sand and walk the shoreline.

You love your aunt and uncle dearly. But having such a large get together at their house to meet the neighbors and their friends just got too much. It’s why you politely excused yourself and ended up here.

The crash of the waves, the peaceful quiet of the thankfully vacant beach, it all settles you while you walk aimlessly getting lost in your thoughts.

Until a sharp deep growl pierces the air.

The noise sounds close, electrifies your skin, and makes you stop. That’s when you notice trickles of blood in the water.

Petrified your eyes follow the trails.

Then you come across a sight you can’t believe.

By the long stretch of rocks leading out from the shore into the sea, a man sits half up on the rocks.

Older, distinguished in the wrinkles around his face and beautiful grays in his curled hair, his skin however seems drained of color. There’s also a huge gash against his side as if he was impaled.

Even though he’s partially out of the water, you notice, the skin at his hips don’t lead to legs. Your eyes go wide.

Another snarl of a growl comes and you realize it’s this man. His face fiercely stares you down in menacing terror.

“You’re hurt!” You blurt out.

“Get the fuck outta here!” He howls, even has an accent of someone from this area.

“You’re bleeding out too fast!” You don’t even know medical conditions that well to know this isn’t good.

On your walk here you noticed a few beach towels left vacant on the shore.

You immediately turn around and bolt.

The man screams out a curse, yelling at you to stop, but you don’t. Thankfully you don’t have to search too far down the beach to spot one of the forgotten towels. Quickly grabbing it you then rush back.

The strange man is still on the rocks, but it’s obvious he tried sliding down them in an escape. However it opened his wound up more.

“Wait!” Now you cry out. “I know this isn’t much but this can stop the bleeding for now!”

You offer weakly that you could maybe try to get medical attention, but even weary his eyes go wide, and he snaps out a fast sharp no.

“Then you need to wrap this around the wound or press into it.” You offer the towel.

“Y’don’t think I know how to handle this, ya dumb human?” He snarls.

Human. So he isn’t human like you suspected.

“Your wound is getting worse.” You urge now, promising you won’t get others but have supplies that can help.

“Do what ya fuckin’ want.” He snarls.

Gingerly, you place the towel down on a rock then scramble out of the water and head back to your family’s beach home. Thankfully everyone has moved upstairs, allowing you to sneak in, grab a first aid kit, then leave.

You just hope the man hasn’t left or gotten worse.

The sky grows dimmer. The sun almost vanishes beyond the horizon. And thankfully, the man is still on the rocks.

Yet his eyes flutter in and out of consciousness.

Keeping the first aid kit as dry as you can above the waves, you rush into the water towards him.

He’s barely awake, might not even fully notice you’re beside him now. But quickly you unpack things fast on the nearby rocks and tend to the wound as best as you can. The man hisses a half growl at the padding you place to stop the bleeding. Then you use an embracing amount of large bandages over the wound.

The bleeding doesn’t seep through the wraps and it’s enough for now. You’re afraid of leaving him here, but you’re more worried about moving him. So taking the towel you grabbed, you delicately drape it over his body, keeping his face open.

He seems human enough from his upper body. This mystery man is also handsome, scarily so. But the sky is getting dark, and you need to get home. Gathering your things you return to the beach house.

“Hey, where’d ya go?! And what’s with the first aid kit?” Your mom says a bit surprised.

You explain with a half lie that you went walking on the beach and helped a guy who got cut.

“Well look at you! What a hero.” She grins warm and her words feel soft.

That night you barely get any sleep and think of the man on the rocks. Earlier, when you were panicking trying to tend to his wound, you didn’t have time to fully look into the ocean at his lower body. But you caught a glimpse.

You saw a partial marine like body, a sea creature like tail even among the cloud ocean water.

A merman, you had possibly helped a merman.

Now you just hope he makes it through the night.

Scrambling awake the next morning, you make an excuse of wanting to enjoy the beach bright and early, and head to the rocks.

Of course he’s gone.

You almost knew he wouldn’t be here. A piece of you did hope, faintly hoped, he would be. Even the towel is gone.

Out in the ocean a loud splash, like someone slapping against the water, arrives.

There floating in the waves, only seen from the chest up, is the mystery man. He’s okay. He’s here. He’s alive.

“You’re alright.” You exhale relieved.

This man glares at you fiercely. It highlights his weathered wrinkles but also intensifies his handsome features. There’s an intimidating and hardened nature radiating off this gorgeous creature.

“Why did ya save me?” He flat out asks, and you’re stunned.

That’s what he came here to ask you about?

Your face even scrunches up slightly confused, but you tell him the truth.

He was hurt. You had to try and do something.

The answer does soften his features. If anything his eyebrows furrow harder.

“Y’fuckin’ tell anyone about me?”

For possibly being a mythical being, this man does speak very human. You shake your head no, promising you didn’t and won’t ever tell anyone.

He scoffs, distrusting.

With sharp narrowed eyes, he gives you one final look before slipping back into the water.

You sit on the shoreline for what feels like hours, but he doesn’t return.

A bit dejected and quiet, you head home.

Later, trying to get your mind off everything, you decide to enjoy the time you’re here and head into the water.

The wind provides a nice breeze, and the sea swirls around you. Slowly you trek deeper into the ocean letting the water rise. Eventually you comfortably float and glance back towards the shoreline. Your mom lounges in her lawn chair with the recent book she just bought. The sky, beautifully soft this morning, now seems dimmer with all the clouds moving in.

A wave crashes over you from behind.

Powerful and large it drags you under. You were so focused on watching the beach you didn’t even see it coming.

Now you’re under the water, caught beneath the sea.

The saltwater stings your eyes as you try swimming against the current. But you’re a bit disoriented and even trying to just float back to the surface seems harder.

Suddenly warm solid hands are on your hips pulling you up. You’re guided up to the surface. Sweet air fills you and you cough through the stinging in your lungs. You’re kept above the water, held up.

You whip around trying to see who helped you, but there’s no one around.

Someone screams your name frantically. Your mom and your aunt on the edge of the water shout for you.

Weary from the waves you slowly swim, practically float, back to shore before your family scrambles to help you out. They rapidly ask if you’re okay, covering you with towels.

“We saw you go under and didn’t come up for so long.” Your mom explains still very worried.

“Did you guys see that shark?!” From behind by the beach house, your uncle calls out as he comes running.

“Wait, shark?” You blurt out.

Your uncle rapidly explains how he saw the fin poking out of the water around you.

“Could have been a dolphin.” Your aunt offers.

“No, definitely looked like a shark. Thank goodness you got outta the water.” Your uncle playfully ruffles the towel over your head.

A few bystanders sitting nearby ask how you’re doing and also comment how they swore they saw the ominous shark fin swimming around you.

A shark. It doesn’t make sense. You felt strong very human hands on you. You knew a guiding force saved you.

But then the thick cotton clouds above pop and the rain comes. After heading inside and deciding to rest for the day, your gaze stays watching the harsh waves. The storm and ocean move in tandem. You wonder about the man you met, if he’s safe in the water.

Maybe it’s all the talk of the supposed shark in the water, but before you end up fading into a nap, you swear you see a fin swimming in the current.

- 𖤓 -

“You gonna be okay with us heading to the museum?”

For the millionth time you reassure your mom you’ll be fine staying back and getting more rest. The rain from yesterday’s storm stayed, a quiet downpour thankfully not as strong. After everyone heads out, you see this as an opportunity to head out to the beach.

With the rain, the shoreline is vacant. So with your umbrella you head to the beach. The murky water under the dim sky seems more mysterious and your eyes scan the waves, maybe waiting for something to appear.

“Glutton for punishment or somethin’?” The familiar twanged voice.

Immediately you snap your gaze to the side. There in the water, closer to the edge of the shore, is your mystery man.

You blurt out how worried you were about the storm and about him. His eyebrows furrow.

“Ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle.” He answers muttering.

“And you,” he asks, nudging his handsome chin towards you. “Y’doin’ alright?”

Your heart jumps in your chest. He came to check up on you.

Nodding firmly, you thank him gratefully. You knew it had to be him who saved you in the water.

The man simply nods.

You swallow hard then blurt out if he’s seen a shark.

His face hardens confused. It’s actually adorable with how curiously his dark eyes shine.

“A shark?” He mumbles.

“Yeah, thought I saw a fin in the water.” You don’t want to tell him your uncle did as well.

“Wasn’t a shark.” He answers gruffly, almost a scoff.

You want to press more, ask if it was a dolphin instead when your stomach instead growls loud. Your eyes go wide embarrassed.

One of his eyebrows raises.

“Sorry, need to grab some lunch soon.” You sigh embarrassed.

“Then head inside, lil’ minnow. Go get somethin’ to eat.” He says firm.

Before you can reply he’s sinking back in the water. But as he swims away that’s when you catch it faintly -

A sleek fin towering out of the water.

The shark creature is him.

Also…you realized he just called you a little minnow and for some reason, you find it oddly affectionate.

The next morning a mess of crabs clutter the beach. Even the neighbors besides your family’s place head to the shore to admire.

“It’s like the sea wanted us to have a crab bake.” Your mom laughs.

“They normally don’t wash up on the beach in this many numbers, it’s odd.” One of the neighbors explains to your uncle.

While everyone eagerly moves to get the crabs, your eyes stay on the water hoping to spot a fin among the waves.

At night, once everyone is asleep, you quietly slip out and head to the beach. The patio lights from the beach homes cast a soft illumination. The crashing waves among the abyss beyond are strangely calming even with the darkness of sea and sky stretching out wide.

Patiently you sit at the edge of the water, not even knowing what you’re truly doing here.

“Persistent one, ain’t ya?”

His voice emerges from the darkness and your soul almost jumps out of your body. This time the mysterious man flutters up from the waves and is closer than before.

“Why were there so many crabs on the beach?” You ask quickly and curious.

“Don’t know. Crabs are fuckin’ weird little shits.” He replies bluntly with a hard grimace.

A part of you thinks he does know why.

“How’s your wound?” You ask.

Gingerly he lifts himself closer to the shoreline and then goes to rest halfway upon the beach allowing you a sight of his torso.

The area where the wound is healing up nicely and you even grin relieved.

But him being half out of the water onto the shore also allows you a better glimpse at his lower body.

Tail. He has a tail.

It’s sleek, a deep stormy gunmetal gray, that in this dim lighting almost seems like a lovely rich blue. Faintly you can even see the dorsal find at his lower back.

It’s beautiful.

He’s beautiful. Lovely sun and age spots pepper his skin. His bare chest is broad and seems strong. This man from the sea is burly, solid, and aged, a force of the water that speaks of his power that’s weathered the tides

You don’t even realize you’ve said something, much less called him beautiful, until your mystery man responds.

“Y’think I’m beautiful?” He sounds terribly confused.

“Weirdest god damn human I ever met, lil’ minnow.” He adds muttering.

“I have a name.” You huff back, gently teasing.

“Yeah?”

Your lips twitch at his reply, and you give him your name. This beautiful merman stays quiet.

“And you? What’s your name?” You ask cautiously but hopeful.

No reply comes. You’re worried you’ve pressed your luck.

“Joel.”

Until he answers, and you discover this merman’s name is so lovely.

“Don’t normally see ya around here.” Joel comments.

You perk up asking if he lives nearby.

“More or less.” A cryptic answer.

You explain that you’re here for the summer. After finishing up for the semester you and your mom decided to take a break out here.

“Younger than I fuckin’ though.” Joel says harsh under his breath, and annoyance bristles in you.

“Probably not as young as you think.” You argue back, even explaining you’re just starting grad school so the break was needed.

Joel scoffs, not looking convinced.

“Maybe you’re just an old barnacle.” You fire back, teasing.

Surprisingly, this man from the water snorts amused. The sound is precious. You want to ask him more, learn more about him, but a tratorious yawn escapes you.

“Head to sleep, lil’ minnow.” Joel mumbles.

“Not tried.” You huff, but another yawn betrays you.

“Mhm.” Joel hums, and you think you see a twinkle of amusement in his deep eyes.

There’s so much you want to say, maybe even ask when you’ll see him again. But rising up off the sand, you hear a splash in the waves.

The spot where Joel rested is now empty. A wistful ache settles into your chest.

However the next morning though, an impressive mess of clams and oysters are on the beach. A bright bubble of a laugh almost escapes you.

When the night rolls in, you again sneak back down to the beach. This time you bring some of the leftover sushi from dinner.

You don’t wait for long before Joel swims onto the shoreline.

You greet him with a warm grin. His focus however is on the container on your lap. His handsome scrunched up face seems grumpier.

“What’s that?” He rumbles.

“It’s just fish and rice.” You explain opening the container. “Thought we could share.”

“It’s sushi.” He flat out says and your eyes go wide. He knows what sushi is and you even admit your surprise.

“Yes I know what sushi is.” He replies a bit crabbier. “Don’t live in a fuckin’ damn cave.”

“Where do you live?” You ask now.

“Somewhere.” He replies flatly not answering, so you don’t push it.

Instead you return to the meal before you.

“Since it’s fish, thought you might enjoy it.” You offer.

“You…brought me food?” His voice sounds steeled, cautious. You realize how suspicious it sounds and how hesitant he would be.

“It’s fine, I promise.” You reassure and even prove it by chomping down on one of the California rolls. Trying to ease the tension you ramble about the different types of sushi you like and those you don’t care for too much.

You realize now you must sound ridiculous. You’re about to clamp your mouth shut when very cautiously, slowly, Joel reaches over and grabs one.

It’s like feeding a stray cat and not wanting to scare it. You can’t help but turn to stare and see his reaction. He plops it in his mouth and cutely chews thoughtfully.

“Well?” You ask a bit hopeful.

Joel simply shrugs, almost bored, not even speaking on the taste or if he likes it.

But you do notice he reaches for another one.

In the quiet night, you and Joel simply sit enjoying this space together. You try to ask more about him and about his world. But the dry unamused look he gives his answer.

Joel instead is the one asking questions about where you live, what are you studying for, and one question that knocks you out surprised.

“Y’dont got a mate.” It’s more of a statement than a question, but you still almost choke on a sushi roll.

Stammering, you ask him what made him say that.

“Don’t have the mark humans wear that they’re taken.” Joel comments then moves to point to his ring finger where a wedding band would sit.

“Some couples don’t wear bands.” You argue back.

“Oh? Ya one of ‘em then?” He challenges.

Deflated, you mutter out a low no.

“Why?” Joel asks direct.

“Why what?”

“Why don’t ya have a mate?” He questions serious and his thick voice crawls over your skin.

You shrug, not knowing how to fully answer. Instead you half heartedly tell him you haven’t found anyone yet.

“Don’t sound like a good enough reason.” Joel replies.

Now you’re annoyed, even feel your face scrunch up at his casual tone.

“Why do you even care?” Your question comes out a bit sharper than expected.

Joel shrugs. “Just don’t make sense why a young thing like you is alone.”

Immediately you fire back that you’re not alone. You have friends and family that love you.

Now you stare at Joel hard and fully annoyed. His dark eyes scan your face while he stays composed, unable for you to read.

Your phone chimes with a text notification breaking the moment. You decide to call it a night. Joel is quiet when you move to leave.

The air hangs thick and tense. Internally, you try reasoning that you’re literally talking to a mythical being. This merman was bound to have a strange view of human customs.

You simply tell him good night and walk back.

Before you head inside, you turn around to the shore unable to stop yourself.

Joel very visibly is still in waves. His upper half floats among the obsidian sea with his dark eyes hyper focused on you. However once you spot him, let your eyes lock into his, the merman sinks into the water.

That night you dream of a man from the waves so handsome and real in your arms, but it feels as dangerous as a storm.

The following morning, instead of creatures fit for a seafood restaurant waiting, the most lovely shell sits on the sand.

“Oh that’s pretty.” Your mom even coos. It is.

Cherished and still in awe, you place the shell on your dresser.

Later that night you return to the beach again. This time time with a bag of chips.

Joel arrives hastily.

“The shell is lovely.” You tell him.

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” He answers simply, but his gaze stays eyeing the chip bag. Your heart warms even at his grumpy reply.

Opening the bag, Joel wrinkles his nose.

“Smells salty as hell.” He sneers.

“Says someone who lives in saltwater.” You snort munching on one of the chips.

“That’s sayin’ something if I say that shit is salty.” Joel huffs.

“They’re delicious.” You clarify holding out a chip to him. Joel’s face scrunches up even more, you laugh.

“What’s with all the sudden human food?”

You shrug. “Just a nice late night snack, thought we could share that’s all. Let you maybe just try more human food.”

With a cautious hard frown, Joel leans forward to the chips in your fingers and moves to bite it. In the process though his lips slide over your fingers.

His mouth is hot, wet. You even feel the brush of his tongue against your fingertips and try not reacting.

Joel makes a face as he chews, maybe not aware of what he just did. Your heart however rages fast and you ask if he liked it.

Now Joel’s eyes flicker to yours. You notice him swallow, notice how thick and bare his neck is and how you want to kiss it already.

He shrugs. You’re learning that’s a very common Joel answer and can’t push for more.

“Your mother. She seems nice.” He suddenly says.

You’re surprised he noticed her earlier out here. She’s been enjoying reading while you stayed inside enjoying a nice nap.

“Yeah, she’s pretty great.” You admit with a soft smile.

“Just you and her?” He presses and you agree happily.

“Where’s your father?”

You didn’t know you’d be discussing this with him. But you explain gently that your dad passed away when you were younger.

“Oh.” Joel’s voice pops a bit. “I… I apologize.”

You reassure him you’re alright. You were young, a child then, and appreciate his sympathy.

“Besides my mom always told me if I ever missed him, I just had to look up.” You tell Joel.

“What?” He asks and you turn your gaze up to the sky.

The stars are faintly out but so sweetly twinkling in the dark.

“My mom said my dad sits with the stars now, watching down and always shining bright to remind me he’s always with me, even when I can't see him.”

The words still warm you to this day.

Joel stays silent.

“And you? What’s your family like?” You ask returning your eyes back to earth, back to this son of the sea.

Joel continues to stay quiet. His focus now falls to the sand where you sit. You should’ve known he wouldn’t respond to something so personal.

“Got a brother, but he doesn’t live too close. He’s gotta pod of his own now.”

He has a brother. And they call their families pod. This information warms you, feels precious and rare.

“I had a pup.” Joel admits.

He had a child.

“Lost her many years ago.” He mutters soft.

Your heart shatters deep in your chest.

“Joel, I’m so incredibly sorry.” You tell him earnestly and sympathetic.

You gently ask him what her name was.

“Sarah.” A lovely name.

You glance back up at the sky. You don’t know anything about merfolk culture, how they honor those who have passed. But you can at least honor her the way you know how.

“Sarah is definitely up there too among the stars, watching over you.” You say reassuring.

The stars seem to twinkle back.

Again, Joel stays silent. You’re worried you might have stepped too far.

“Thank you.”

But in the soft breeze of the night, you almost miss his kind soft whisper of a reply back.

You and Joel sit in a soft silence for the rest of the night.

Waking up the next morning, from the view of your bedroom window, another shell sits on the beach.

This goes on for a little over a week. You sneak down to talk with Joel, even teach him how to play tic tac toe in the sand and discover he’s a sore loser.

Then beautiful trinkets arrive on the beach the following mornings.

Some were dazzling sea glass pieces you want to find a way to make into a necklace. Once he even left you a weather and a very old waterlogged broken compass.

You cherish it all.

But then one night, Joel doesn’t show. You wait, and wait. But no appearance of your merman. And no new seashell or trinket sits on the beach the morning after.

Again you head down to the beach at night. Still no sign of Joel.

You try not to get wrapped up in worry. But soon a week passes.

Now you’re worried, fully wondering what could have happened. You don’t even know where he lives to say you can simply go check on him. You feel a bit helpless, frustrated.

At the week’s end, your aunt wants to take you and your mom to a nice dinner in town. That night enjoying the nice meal, your eyes still drift to the view of the sea. Watching the soft waves, the dreamy sea, you simply hope Joel is okay.

When you get back, you head straight to bed and wonder if you’ll see your merman again.

In the morning, you almost don’t look out the window, like you’re trying to slowly detach yourself. But you do.

On the beach sits a new shell.

You practically fly out of the house and down to the shore.

Later that night, Joel this time rests on the edge of the water - waiting for you.

He’s never looked more beautiful in the moonlight.

You exhale relieved, welcoming him back. Joel’s eyes seem endless as he stares at you nodding

“Sorry, had some things I had to sort out.” He explains, even apologizes. You don’t even want to press why or get upset that he simply vanished.

He’s here and he’s alright. That’s what matters.

“I know it might be too personal, and you can tell me no,” you begin weakly. “But where do you live around here?”

You rationally explain it’s simply to see and make sure he’s alright. You even vow to keep it a secret.

“Worried about an old ass barnacle like me, lil’ minnow?” Teasing, he’s faintly teasing.

But you do worry about him. Even tell him that. Joel doesn’t reply for a moment.

“Tomorrow, come ‘ere early. And I’ll show ya.” His voice is as steady as a river.

You barely get any sleep that night. Before the sun even reaches over the horizon, with the sky faintly showing signs of waking up, you head down to the shore.

Joel already waits for you. He’s ethereal in the morning light. The soft cotton candy sky paints him in a delicate glow.

You walk along the shore while he stays in the ocean and you follow his lead. The guide of his fin from the waves would look menacing, the sign of a terrifying shark in the water. Yet you follow it without hesitation. Thankfully the pace is easy and you enjoy the fact that you simply have him by your side in his own way.

Slowly you walk further away from the familiar beach homes and down towards a more secluded part of the coastline. The houses begin to dwindle. Those still standing houses seem older in their style, rickety and abandoned.

Compared to your family’s beach home that sits further back on the land, these homes sit right above the water.

Weathered from their location, they seem like ghosts watching you. Eventually Joel leads you to a home that’s collapsed.

Halfway in the water, halfway in the sand, it is a cluster of debris and scattered remnants of a home

You watch Joel swim into it from the sea.

So this is where he stays. You find a small alcove to duck under and then step in. Surprisingly, the beach house had collapsed into a father cozy like alcove.

The echoes of the ocean softly swirl all around. When you glance out the opening, it gives a clear sight to the sea where Joel must freely swim in and out hidden by the cover of this remnant.

He’s made a home out of these hollow bones. He emerges out of the water, and his freshly slicked back hair has always made his face seem sharper. But here in the soft atmosphere he seems even more dreamy.

You earnestly thank him for showing this to you and even admire its coziness.

“Y’like it?” His voice is gruff as you continue taking in the space. Yet you feel eyes on you the entire time.

“I do.” You admit truthfully.

That’s when you spot the towel you gave him. It’s crinkled up in a ball, still covered in some dried blood. But he kept it. That reality gets logged in your throat.

You go to sit down on the sand and slide off the bag you brought. You didn’t know how long the trip was going to take and trying to add to the lie you told your family about going to search for sand dollars, you added the bag.

Now it proved handy as you pull out the box of assorted fruits you packed.

Feels like it’s been so long since Joel and you have done this.

Handing him an orange slice, he bites down on the whole thing not even letting you finish explaining not to eat the peel. You shriek a bit panicked, but he mumbles about you worrying too much.

“Well, someone’s gotta worry for you.” You huff back.

In this seemingly short yet expansive time you’ve known him it’s like you’ve become completely bonded to this strange man.

In very common Joel fashion, he settles into silence. Playfully taking an orange slice, you put it in your mouth then smile at Joel.

He snorts a faint type of laugh and it’s everything.

This time you also notice how close he rests on the sand next to you now, closer than he’s ever been before.

“Y’know…” Joel begins soft. “Never got to thank ya for savin’ me.”

His tender low rumble almost mixes in with the crash of the tide. You think of the blood stained towel still here.

“It’s okay. And you’re welcome. Plus I think we’re even now at this point.” You gently tease.

A deep hum comes.

“Ain’t like any human I’ve ever met.” He says even lower than before.

Something indescribable claws in you, and you glance at him. Joel is undeniably gorgeous, the most beautiful being you’ve ever seen.

His usual slicked back curls are starting to dry, highlighting their light fluff, and you ache to brush back some of his strands. However his intense gaze bores unflinchingly into yours. It’s like his eyes spark a fire in your chest burning everything in its wake.

Before anything can be said, Joel suddenly snaps up sharply glaring out to the sea.

“Need to get ya home, lil minnow. Gonna storm soon.”

The sky looked so clear on your walk here. Even now it doesn’t seem like a storm approaches. But you trust Joel. The minute you reach the beach house, thunder rolls in the distance.

Later, in the shower, your mind drifts to Joel. Your thoughts have been with him so much. But now they cross into a more sticky territory.

Joel resting beside you earlier was the first time you had ever seen him fully out of the water. Your eyes snuck as many glances as you could trying to commit the sight to memory.

You knew his golden skin bled into the color of his tail. But his tail, now that you fully saw it, was magnificent. Strong, sleek and sturdy, it speaks of how much power he holds as a son of the sea. Yet you can’t stop wondering where his reproductive organs were.

You knew he had a daughter but you also don’t know if maybe he adopted her. You didn’t want to ask about merfolk procreating, but your mind swirls with thoughts of it. Thoughts of something slippery slick, simply Joel’s, slithering in between your legs clouds your imagination and your throat goes dry.

You’re so caught up in those thoughts, you don’t even head down to the ocean that night.

Instead you dream of merman and the taste of saltwater on your lips.

-𖤓-

The beach is crowded today. You should’ve known the weekend would bring in more crowds. The amount of people must have deterred Joel away from leaving a gift.

You admit you were a little heartbroken when you didn’t see anything on the beach this morning, but you understood.

Now you sit peacefully in the water and search for more shells in the sand to add to your growing collection.

Eventually a soft beach ball gently bumps onto you.

“Sorry!” The splashes come, and off to the side are a pack of three frat boy like guys.

“Kinda got away from us.” One of them says bashfully.

“It’s okay.” You reassure.

“I like your swimsuit.” The guys smiles, and you thank him.

“You wanna come hang with us? You look lonely.” One of them asks then takes a swig of his beer.

Politely you decline, but thank them for the offer.

“Aww,” another says, swimming a bit closer. “C’mon. Gotta be better than just sitting here doing nothing.”

“I’m fine.” You kindly try to stay composed, but you already don’t care for how persistent they are.

“Man just leave her, she looks like a fuckin’ prude anyway.” One of them laughs, and your gut feels uneasy.

Fucking pieces of shit.

You don't even reply, not knowing what else they can do. Skin feeling tight, you want to get out of the water now, and hope they leave soon.

They snicker and laugh with each other, talking amongst themselves. It makes your skin crawl even more. Now you really decide to leave.

Suddenly a horrified scream comes.

It’s male, pierces through the air with pure agony.

You whip your gaze around and find blood spilling into the water. One of the guys that was just speaking to you is the one screaming, holding his leg swearing something attacked him. Another one of the guys then collapses into the sea as he screams. More blood colors the waves.

“There was something in the fucking god damn water!” One of them yells.

Off to the distance someone yells ‘shark!’ and terror fills you fast. The panicked commotion arrives. You frantically scan around.

The fin barely moves above the waves, but you catch a glimpse before it dips below the water.

From the shore, your mother screams your name begging you to get out. You return to land but are determined to find Joel.

“I’m gonna take a walk, clear my head.” You tell your mom.

“There’s a shark in the water! Just stay inside for the day.” She urges.

Promising you won’t get in the water you even reassure her you’ll have your phone on hand. With an apprehensive sigh, she nods.

You practically fly down the coastline.

Even in the middle of the day, no one pays you a second glance. Thankfully further down the beach the commotion trickles down until it’s just you and the sea. Approaching the decayed and vacant homes, this time they feel like guards keeping you safe.

Immediately you slide into Joel’s alcove. You’re not sure it was him, but something inside just whispers it was.

You discover a sight.

Joel sits halfway out of the water and snaps his face up to you. His eyes are what you notice first. Even with how dark they are, his pupils are now slits, reptilian like. Then when he spots you, they expand and dilate as his face crumbles.

He mutters out your name.

You spot his hands - now instead claws with faint traces of blood staining them.

Before you is an apex predator, a true hunter of the waters. And he’s glorious.

The blood seems to confirm it was him in the water. He attacked those guys.

“Go home!” He barks, a fierce growl.

“Did they hurt you?” You ask softly, approaching him with hesitant steps.

He repeats his words, roaring at you to leave, but you don’t. Even with how fierce and terrifying his voice rages, you move, almost possessed, to kneel on the sand beside him.

“Are you hurt?” You repeat again gently.

He pauses before barking out a quick no.

“You were in the water?” You question low.

“I…” you’ve never heard Joel hesitate like this. Your eyes stay on his claws.

A moment passes.

“Always try to swim nearby when y’get in the water.” Joel admits, like he doesn’t even register yet that he's speaking.

Your heart gets tangled in your throat.

“Normally I stay far away and deep enough, but those fucking boys… the things they said.” He snarls disgusted and vicious.

He attacked them because of you. That reality rearranges your soul.

You now gingerly reach down to the water and gingerly grab his hand. Reflectively he almost draws away.

“What’re y’doing?” He mutters sharp.

“There’s still blood.” You whisper back then start pouring water over his hands, cleaning him.

The emotions surging in you feel too deep and strong to describe, but they consume you. You rinse his hands, being cautious of the sharp edges, watching the water fade away the crimson more and more.

It’s quiet in the alcove. Just you, him, and the soft sound of the waves. When his hands are free of blood, you gather one in your grasp. His talons are sharp. He’s dangerous, and you adore him. You gently draw it up to your face.

He doesn’t stop you. You even worry this might be too much, possibly overstepping. But this feeling in your chest is so raw you can’t stop.

You lean into Joel’s palm and gently kiss the center of it as your eyes close.

“Thank you.” You speak, barely recognizing your soft voice.

Suddenly you’re jostled. Your eyes snap open petrified thinking he’s shoving you away. Only to find he’s instead swiftly pulling you closer.

You’re only allowed to process that in a blink before his lips crash into yours. You inhale sharp but eagerly scramble to grab onto him now.

He tastes like the sea, of something deep and ancient but beautifully Joel, and your mouth opens up to him wide and greedy.

You can tell he hasn’t kissed recently, or maybe kissing other merfolk is different, but he’s messy. Teeth clink and crash, but it’s fierce, truly him.

Like the surge of a wave Joel moves against you unleashed, and you draw him closer now moving to rest back against the sand.

Joel shifts moving over your body with a clumsy but earnest ease as he continues kissing you fervently.

Your hands run up his broad and strong shoulders while his hands, claws no more, now map your body out.

“So god damn soft.” He says hoarse and deep against your lips. Then Joel burrows his face against your neck and inhales.

“Smell s’good.” His voice trails off while his lips begin kissing and nipping against your skin.

Your body reacts, rising up to grind against him.

“Joel.” You whisper out his name and he growls. The vibrations of it rumble against your skin rattling your bones.

“Wanna mate ya.” He mutters low, as if smoke leaks into his voice. “Wanna make y’mine.”

“Please please please.” You beg him dizzy and clawing at him.

Joel licks at your skin, and your eyes close in bliss.

He’s a force, dizzying and consuming like the sea itself, and you happily fall under his current. Your swimsuit top is discarded and Joel makes quick work diving down your body to your bottoms.

Without warning he shoves his face into between your legs, flat against your pussy and inhales deep. The most powerful groan rattles the air and you whine.

“Wanna taste, want more.” He mutters possessed, clawing at your bottoms that you shimmy out of.

Now you squirm a bit self aware, very hyper aware, of how intently Joel pokes and strokes around your folds with eyes focused.

You even shift your legs hoping to close them when he growls.

“Don’t hide. S’mine.” The possessive nature leaking out of his voice makes you drip.

That first lick he takes against you, you almost come especially when he groans debauched.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, knew y’d taste so fuckin’ good.” Joel mumbles.

What he lacks in his full knowledge of your body, he makes up for that in how fervently he lets his tongue explore and dive into you. It drives you mad, and your hips trash trying to press into him more.

When you come, he moans loud.

Lips wet with your essence Joel crawls up your body in a daze kissing you as much as he can.

Now he grinds down into you and you feel a very new sensation, a hard bump against your core.

Joel draws back and you now fully see the new raised area against his front torso. His hand palms it, the same way a human would, and he hisses. You ache to touch him.

“Wanna make you feel good too.” You mutter.

Joel blinks back at you, still hazy in his dark eyes. But he leans down and bumps his head against yours soft.

“Starlight, y’sure you want this?” You sure you want me, is what you hear.

You nod and kiss him soft on the lips.

A part of you wanted to be afraid, to not face the growing desire for this creature of a man. But when Joel and you become one, it feels as if the world becomes whole. Like this is what it’s always meant to be, you and him.

Your legs sliding against his tail, his teeth biting into your neck with an aching promise wanting to break the skin, you discover a crescendo of passion like no other, a crashing of the land and sea.

He is yours, just as much as you as his.

Now curled against him on the sand, your merman keeps you in his arms tracing his fingers against your shoulder. Every inch of you feels sore but in a delicious way. You enjoy resting against his sturdy frame.

“You’re still so warm.” Joel mutters a bit in awe.

“And you feel nice and cool.” You smile wiggling closer to him even while being practically glued to his side.

“Can I ask…” you begin hesitantly, and he hums a rumble of a noise that sounds like he’s giving you the okay.

You ask him why he suddenly vanished for that week.

Joel sighs, dreary and deep.

“Didn’t wanna face how… close I was gettin’ to you.” The reveal makes your heart flutter.

Softly you rub against his solid chest then lean to kiss it.

“Glad you came back.” You tell him, and he simply nods.

However even in this soft afterglow, a small doubt trickles now in.

“Joel.”

“Hm?” He sounds as if he’s falling asleep against you.

“Is this… Are you sure this is okay?” You ask delicately.

Joel snorts.

“Yeah, s’okay.” He reassures you. “Been practically courting ya this entire time anyway.”

He says it almost casually, like if it’s an afterthought. Your mind however skips over itself.

You bolt up to look down at your merman still lounging on the sand. His face scrunches up pouting at the loss of your body next to his.

“Wait? Courting?!” Your voice shrills.

Joel rolls his eyes and tugs at your arm trying to get you back into his embrace.

“What do you mean courting?!” You continue sqwuaking.

“You sound like a seagull.” He deadpans. You swat at his shoulder urging him to please explain.

You even stare at him determined. An adorable almost bitterly bashful expression colors Joel’s handsome face. Those deep eyes of his dart away from your stern gaze.

“S’nothin’. Been takin’ care of you same way you’ve been takin’ care of me, that’s all.” He replies gruffly still seeming embarrassed.

Suddenly it all clicks.

A few semesters back you took an ecology course for a science credit. You faintly remember a lecture about how different species mating behaviors. Your professor even made a comparison of a man winning a game of billiards against another guy to establish himself as a strong opponent.

In essence, sometimes mating rituals were about proving you were a strong provider and protector.

Joel had been doing this all along. The way he protected you on the beach, the various seafood critters left on the beach, the way you also fed him, along with the beautiful seashells and trinkets he left -

It had all been his own way of showing his affection and intentions.

Your merman opens his mouth to say something, but you pounce on him quickly. You kiss him pouring in all your devotion you can, and Joel welcomes you greedily.

Eventually a text from your mom comes asking if you’re alright and it gently bursts the bubble you’ve been happily sheltered in. Begrudgingly you kiss Joel many times goodbye. He of course swims by your side the entire walk home.

Later that evening, you sneak back out to the shoreline and kiss your handsome myth of man so many times under the moon's watchful eye.

“So you’re mine?” You ask quietly among the crash of the waves.

Joel nods firm and steady. “Just like you’re mine.”

You float in a dreamy bliss and wish more than ever you don’t have to leave him for the night.

“Don’t worry, lil’ minnow.” He reassures you with one last soft kiss. “I’ll be in the water.”

It’s a promise, a vow, as true and beautifully ancient as the sea.

475 notes · View notes

myhohastuff · 1 year ago

Text

HELLO!!! I’ve been MIA from tumblr for a while.

BUT IN SAYING THAT I COME BACK TO THIS!! 😭😭

“Thank you for showing me what a mother can be”

has me in tears😖

a/n: Mother's Day can be anything from trauma revisited, grief old and new, dashed hopes, all the way to the most exhilarating overflow of love and joy, and anything in between. I acknowledge you, wherever you are, whatever your feelings.

This is a short story about the Moon Knight system sharing a life with the mother of their children. If that is for you, today, then enjoy. If not, I wish you a wonderful day with much love.

Pairing: Moon Dads! Steven Grant x mother!reader, Marc Spector x mother!reader. (Jake is mentioned). The story does not state that this reader has given birth to these children, nor the reader's gender, so anyone who could ever feel like a mother would be included here.

Word Count: 1.7k

Content: MOON DADS!! fluff, domestic fluff, kids, married life, it's Mother's Day, kissing, there is a tinge of angst-ish, as Wendy Spector is mentioned, but this is not an angsty fic. This story is what I wish for the Moon Boys IF this is what they would want. They deserve to heal and they deserve a family if they want one - whatever that may look like. not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

He finds you in the kitchen early Sunday morning, standing over a hot griddle, pancakes sizzling.

Your babbling toddler wiggles in the high chair, pinching one Cheerio at a time in her chubby fingers and stuffing it into her mouth, making a kind of weird mush as she entertains herself.

You back is turned to him so you don’t realize he’s there until his arms wind around you from behind.

“You can’t cook today,” he breathes on your ear, stealthily removing the spatula from your hand.

You giggle and pretend to shrug him off. “Why not?”

“It’s Mother’s Day,” he declares, with an adoring kiss to your cheek.

“So? We have two boys about to come barreling in here,” you remind him matter-of- factly. “My present to myself is not listening to them demanding to know what’s for breakfast.”

A sliver of shame shoots through Steven's heart. He intended to wake up before you and take care of all this: breakfast and the kids. But Jake was out late last night and he accidentally overslept.

“Dada!” Lockley calls from her high chair, playfully slapping her hands down on the tray.

“Hey, sweet girl,” Steven greets his daughter, bending over to kiss her forehead. “Did you know it’s Mummy’s day?

“Ma-ma, Ma-ma, Ma-ma,” Lockley wiggles back and forth, chanting proudly.

As predicted, two energetic boys burst into the kitchen, their tousled curls an adorable mess.

“Happy Mother’s Day!” the twins shout in unison, holding up a handmade banner, constructed from about 60 post-it notes stuck together.

“Wowww,” you whistle in admiration. “Somebody’s been ransacking my office for supplies.” You wink, kneeling down to inspect their handiwork, and assuming they were unable to locate the construction paper to make this unique banner.

Then you took a closer look as Steven tends to the pancakes, finishing them up and removing them from the heat.

“Oh…” Your eyes mist over instantly when you realize the reasoning behind using such small paper to build a banner.

"There's messages on each one," Grant, the oldest twin by two minutes, shyly murmurs.

"Read 'em, read 'em, Mom!" Your energetic Jakob almost tears the feeble construct apart with his bouncing up and down.

Several of the notes boast simple messages such as, "Happy Mother's Day!" or "We love you!"

A few of them have small handprints - Mother's Day classics. There's even a tiny handprint, with LOCKLEY printed messily underneath.

"We had to write hers because she can't write," Jakob states the obvious. "But she tried to eat the Post-its."

"I'm sure she did," you chuckle, glancing over a few "coupons" where the boys have offered to load the dishwasher, fold laundry, give you a back rub and the like.

Then you notice a rather good drawing of your family under a banner reading, "The Spectors": You, holding baby Lockley. Grant and Jakob are flanking either side of you. And there are three dads pictured and labeled, Marc, Steven, Jake, underneath, "DAD" written in all caps. "MOM" is above your head.

"Grant, did you draw this, bud?" You ask your little artist, ruffling his curls.

"Yeah. It was hard to fit everyone on a Post-it, so I made it on two. So you have to keep them together...okay?" His dark eyebrows shoot up hopefully.

You nod, continuing to inspect each one.

Jake has written a few notes in Spanish and Steven left you a riddle...which led to a second riddle underneath the first one. And a third.

Jakob is giddy, dying to tell you what the riddle's answers are, but Grant silences him.

The bottom post it says, "Turn around."

Curious, you stand back up and turn to find Steven holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand and a wrapped present in the other.

"One-two-three," you hear Grant coach. Then Jakob joins in. "Surprise!" Your husband and twin sons chorus.

"Happy Mother's Day, darling," Steven smiles at you, handing you your gifts. "These are from Marc and me."

"Thank you, I love them," you accept the flowers and kiss him sweetly on the lips.

"And Jake says he's going to get Frenchie to babysit next weekend so he can take you out in the city and 'show you off.' His words."

You snort, clearly amused. "Frenchie wants to babysit these three?"

"Yay!" Jakob cheers. "Uncle Frenchie! Uncle Frenchie!"

"Fen-he!" Lockley attempts, bouncing in her chair.

"See, everyone loves the idea," Steven grins, nodding for you to open the wrapped gift. "You can wear this."

A moment later, as he places your flowers in some fresh water, you unwrap your gift.

"It's beautiful," you gasp, touching the golden necklace, bearing hieroglyphs.

"It represents motherhood," Steven gushes. "Here, I made sure to get the paper that explains it all."

"Thank you." Wrapping your arms around his neck you hug him tightly. "Will you put it on me?"

Steven obliges, and you turn back to your boys. "What do you guys think?"

"It's pretty, Mom," Grant sweetly replies.

But Jakob has already dropped his half of the banner and is reaching for a pancake when Steven clears his throat pointedly.

The five of you gather around the table for an all too sugary breakfast before heading out to the park to get some fresh air, let the kids play and spend some quality time together.

Lockley can't walk quite yet, so she's rolling and scooting on a blanket on the grass while Grant and Jakob play close by.

Steven has already apologized for oversleeping, but you confess that you heard Jake come home extremely late. Lockley had a fussy night, so you turned off the baby monitor not ten minutes after he fell asleep and spent most of the early morning rocking your sweet, fussy girl.

"The perfect mom, as always," Steven compliments, with a sparkle in his eye. "And the day's not over yet. There's more to come."

You tangle your fingers with his, laying your head on his shoulder. After a brief silence, you ask, "How's Marc?"

You normally don't ask one alter to deliver messages for another. Half the time, they don't know anyway. But this is Marc. On Mother's Day.

"Quiet," Steven answers. "I think he's okay."

You hum a response, handing Lockley the pacifier she spit out.

"And you, my love? How are you today?"

Because Steven lost his mom too. And not simply because she passed away, but because the mother he thought was his was not real. Parts of her were real, to Steven anyway. The parts from childhood when she wasn't drunk, wasn't violent.

Those were Steven's memories to hold.

But he lost who he thought she was, as well.

"I'm better this year. Better every year," he nods, eyes focused on his twins playing together. "Get to spend this day with the best mum there is."

He gazes over at you adoringly.

"Thank you," you whisper, sealing your mouth to his.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Later that evening, after you and Steven have wrangled three kids into bed, you decide to take a quick shower.

When you emerge, Marc is waiting for you with a glass of wine.

"Happy Mother's Day," his dark eyes flicker down the curves of your body and he wets his lips.

"Marc," you breathe, taking the wine glass from his hand and setting it aside so you can throw your arms around him. "I didn't think I would see you today."

His strong forearms flex against your back, pulling you closer. "I'm here. Did you get the flowers?"

"Yeah they're on the dining room table. Thank you, they're beautiful."

"Good." Easing back, he kisses your mouth, before taking your hand and retrieving your wine glass. "Come on."

Leading you to the living room, the sound of the record player drifts faintly down the hall, welcoming you into the den, where Marc has built a fire.

"I know it's May, but I turned the air down low," he explains, answering your quizzical look. "I know how much you love a fire."

You beam at him as he leads you to sit down on the plush rug in front of the fireplace. There's a tray with some adult-worthy snacks, like - the nice brand of cheese and fancy chocolates.

"No kids allowed," he winks, knowing you're always the one to give up the last pancake or slice of pizza for your children, or for him.

"Oooh, okay, this almost feels like an anniversary." You reach for a chocolate as the two of you get comfortable.

"Too much?" He questions, dark eyes focused intently on the way your lips wrap around the candy.

"Owh naw - its puwfect," you mumble, mouth stuffed full of a truffle.

Marc laughs, nodding mockingly, but playfully. "Sexy."

"I know," you humph, finishing your treat. "But today's my day. I don't have to be sexy."

"You couldn't help that if you tried," he smoothly counters, reaching up with his thumb to swipe chocolate from the corner of your mouth.

"You're really racking up the points here, babe, like, this is..." You glance all around you before taking a swig of your wine. "This is good. Really good."

"I thought you could use some kid-free time," he explains, "With your favorite things - without Jakob eating them all first."

You share a laugh, knowing it's true. Jakob is barely a middle child, but he certainly acts like one.

"If you want some alone time, just say the word," Marc adds, a bit reluctantly. "I just want you to be able to relax."

Setting down your wine glass, you pull him close by his t-shirt. "Don't you dare. You're mine."

You surge forward to meet his lips in a hungry kiss, the wine and the pampering treatment truly reminding you of more of a romantic anniversary setting than anything else.

Marc hums against your lips, cupping your face in his hand as you deepen the kiss, licking open the seam of his mouth to taste him. The wine and the chocolate and the essence of your husband soothes and calms you equally as you melt into his arms.

"Thank you," you whisper, rubbing your nose against his as you part for air. "Thank you for making me a mother."

He touches his forehead to yours and earnestly returns, "Thank you for showing me what a mother can be."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Moon Knight Masterlist

Holiday Fics Masterlist

Main Masterlist

updates blog - @ivystoryupdates

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #mother's day

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myhohastuff · 1 year ago

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THIS SERIES IS SENDING ME INTO ORBIT WITH THE FEELS!!!!

Was it all a dream? - Series Masterlist

Din Djarin x F!Reader Series Playlist | Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist Art by Roger Mattos | AO3 Link

Series summary: You’ve always had vivid dreams, an escape from your monotonous life. But one night, something appears in your dreams that keeps reoccurring; a pair of brown eyes. -Or- Two people, in completely different parts of the galaxy, find each other in their dreams and try to make sense of the strange connection they share.

Series warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), switches between Reader and Din’s POV, story takes place in the dream realm and the real world, set somewhere between the Book of Boba Fett/very beginning of season three, eventual smut (starts at chapter 4!), line between reality and dreams gets blurred, use of Mando’a words and phrases, no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

Chapter One: Eyes without a face

Chapter Two: One more bad dream could bring a fall

Chapter Three: But it’s not real and you don’t exist

Chapter Four: Lovely to be rained on with you

Chapter Five: You and me, we got our own sense of time

Chapter Six: I’m gonna sleep because you live in my daydreams

Coming Seven - Coming 3/6

Chapter Eight - Coming 3/13

Bonus:

WIAD!Din edit by @pedgito

WIAD!Din gifs by @pedgito

#din djarin x reader

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myhohastuff · 1 year ago

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HOLY SHIT THAT WAS THE MOST INTENSE READ THAT IVE EVER HAD!!!!

I love their dynamic do much!! IF THEY DONT STAY TOGRTHER IM GOING TO CRY 😭😭😭

The Sweetest Fruit In The Garden - Part 5

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x Older!Fem!Reader

Genre: Comedy, Fluff, Smut, hints of Angst

Summary: After college Miguel is quick to find a good paying job as an IT technician, he is also popular with the ladies and despite his sometimes grumpy behaviour, his friends are still tolerating him. Life is good. Then why doesn't he feel happy? While visiting his parents in the summer for a few weeks he may just find the only thing missing from his life.

Warnings:

- I'm shitting on fine dining a little in this one (we all have different tastes though, so if you like it, I absolutely don't have anything against you, I'm just voicing my personal preference)

- I mention that reader likes to eat.

- I don't wanna spoil where the second part of the date takes place, but I wanna point out that I have no idea about the topic, but I thought it's romantic, so just roll with it please 💀

- Miguel picks up reader easily, but since he's a fucking UNIT it doesn't matter what size you are he. will. pick. you. up. with. ease.

- there's smut in this part: fingering, oral, p in v, dirty talk

A/N: there's a tiny reference to my other series Limitless, so if you read that, tell me if you caught it 😸

Wanted to add more trash talk to the sex scene + make the "slip in" a bit more of a struggle but tumblr decided to crash and close without saving and I'm NOT gonna start it all over again. I'm sorry 😢 Also didn't save when i fixed the typos so ⚰️

Don't worry about the ending, this is not the last chapter.

Series Masterlist

You were pleasantly surprised when he took you to a semi fancy restaurant. You didn't like the fine dining places, where they served you plates that looked like leftovers were presented to you in a luxuriois way. You liked to eat and you enjoyed the simpler recipes with big portions. You watched Miguel's reaction to you eating, since there are men who don't like women who don't just order a salad and water, and you noted happily that he looked pleased at your choice of food and the way you looked so content while you ate.

"I'm glad you chose this place, this is freaking delicious." - you said between two bites.

Miguel smiled.

"Thought you would like it. I read that it opened a few weeks ago, I thought we should give it a try."

"I might just have to promote this restaurant as my new hangout place."

"Seems like a nice choice."

"It is nice. Expect for that couple not far from us. That chick is eyefucking you ever since they sat down."

"What?" - Miguel chuckled as he subtly looked around.

You cut the meat, struggling a little because the knife wasn't too sharp, but then you licked your lips when you succeeded.

"Brunette, red dress. I think it's a first date." - you said as you took another bite. - "The guy seems a bit nervous and is rambling on and on, trying to get her attention. She looks this way like, every ten seconds. I don't blame her though."

Miguel grinned as he looked back at you.

"Are you jealous?" - he asked as he continued eating.

"Maybe a little." - you admitted after a few seconds with a shrug.

His eyes widened a little surprised.

"Why?"

"Miggy..." - you whined a little. - "You know why. The same reason I didn't want to come on this date with you in the first place. She probably thinks I'm way too old for you."

"That's such a bullshit. You look extremely hot, baby. Especially tonight. I can't stop thinking about unzipping that fucking dress."

You giggled and playfully nudged his leg under the table with your foot. He smirked, pleased that he could chase your negative thoughts away.

"Okay, but I wanna test something." - you said clearing your throat and trying to seem serious.

"What?" - Miguel asked, giving you his full attention.

"I want you to go to the bathroom and-"

"Shit, you want me to fuck you there?"

"Focus, Miggy!" - you slapped his hand lightly with a playful glare. - "Go to the bathroom, but when you pass their table smile at the girl. I wanna see if she goes after you."

"What?" - Miguel asked confused.

"Come on, I wanna see if you really can make all women swoon with just a look." - you smiled.

"What are you, 12? Also it hurts me you think I can't make anyone slip their panties off in a matter of seconds."

You lifted an eyebrow challengingly.

Miguel rolled his eyes.

"Fine, but you will pay for this later." - he pointed a finger at you.

"I can't wait, papi." - you grinned as you leaned back.

Miguel closed his eyes as he tried not to moan out loud. When he looked at you, you pushed your thighs together harder.

"You sure you don't wanna come with me back there?" - he asked with a small smirk.

"It's a tempting offer..." - you said, licking your lips and you slowly caressed his leg with your foot.

"Fucking tease." - he narrowed his eyes, then stood up. The last thing he wanted was to get hard in front of all these people. He readjusted his shirt and you looked up at him with a grin as you sipped from your drink. - "Just so you know: it's a privilige to see the O'hara charm in action." - he said with a wink, then turned around.

"Jesus, that was so fucking lame." - you whispered, almost making Miguel to brust out laughing.

He made his way towards the bathrooms, making sure he passed the table with the couple and as he walked past them, he gave the girl a subtle once over, then smiled at her and continued walking.

Your put your hand in front of your mouth to hide your smile when you saw her eyes widen. The guy in front of her continued eating, not noticing the interaction. You quickly turned your gaze elsewhere when you saw her head turn to look towards you and you acted innocent, sipping your drink casually. When you looked in her direction again, she wasn't there.

You gasped a little and turned towards the area that lead to the bathrooms and yep, you saw her going in that direction.

You were both impressed and pissed. Impressed at Miguel's ability to make women swoon with just a smile, but pissed at the woman for being on a date and still going after another man, especially when she saw that he was clearly on a date too.

Miguel returned only about two minutes later, and while he was still walking, he asked:

"Is she looking?"

You quickly glanced behind him.

"Yes."

When Miguel reached the table, he didn't sit down but stopped in front of you. He leaned down, and gently cupped your jaw to lift your face up and he pushed his lips to yours.

You took in a surprised breath through your nose, but quickly melted when Miguel opened his mouth a little to softly capture your lower lip between his and you kissed him back, feeling like hearts and stars were circling around your head.

Miguel pulled away a little, and smiled when he saw your eyelashes flutter because of how flustered your became, and he nuzzled your nose before giving you a final, quick kiss and sitting back in his chair.

You forced yourself to suck in a breath and you tried to calm your wildly beating heart. Out of all the first kisses you dreamed about sharing with this man, this was the opposite of all of them. It wasn't heated, passionate or soul consuming. It was innocent, sweet and warm and you swore you felt his soft kiss in your heart.

When you looked up him, with your mouth still slightly open, you noticed he was looking at you with an adoring smile.

You licked your lips and looked at the table where the other couple was seated and you saw the young woman was now sitting with a scowl on her face.

"Uhm, what happened?" - you asked, after clearing your throat.

Miguel picked up his fork and knife and continued eating.

"She wanted to give me her number and I told her I don't want it."

"Yeah, she doesn't look like the loyal type."

Miguel nodded while he was chewing and he kept looking at his food while he cut another piece.

You bit the inside of your cheek, then smiled.

"She said something about me, didn't she?"

"It doesn't matter what she said. She's just jealous."

"What did she say? Come on, spill!" - you pressed and nudged his leg a little with your foot.

"She just called me an asshole and said something like you must be very rich if you caught my attention, despite being an old hag."

Your eyes widened and you started laughing, almost choking on your food. Miguel calmed down a little seeing you didn't take it to heart.

"Wow, that was... that was a bit harsh." - you shook your head with a grin as you looked over to the table, then gasped a little. - "Oh my god, they're fighting!" - you said as you reached out to grab Miguel's forearm.

He turned his head and watched as the girl and the guy had a heated conversation despite trying to whisper to not get anyone's attention, then the man stood up, threw some cash on the table and stormed away. The young woman had an angry look on her face and she threw her napking on the table, shot a disgusted face towards you and Miguel then she left too.

Miguel turned back to you with a grin.

"This is why you didn't want to come on this date with me? You were afraid we end up like them?" - he asked as he moved his arm to slip your hand in his and he started caressing your knuckles.

You smiled and licked the corner of your mouth.

"No. I didn't want to come, because I was afraid I would be the one following you into the bathroom."

Miguel's eyes twinkled playfully and he pulled your hand to his lips to gently kiss the back of your hand.

"We can still commit public indecency if you're up for it." - he murmured, and chuckled when you started laughing.

You leaned a little closer to him over the table.

"Did you ever do it in a public place?"

Miguel looked up, thinking, then shrugged.

"Once in a club's bathroom."

"Did you like it?"

"Honestly? I don't really remember, I was drunk as hell. I don't even remember if I finished."

You snorted, quickly trying to cover your mouth to muffle your laughter, making Miguel grin.

"What about you?" - he asked.

"I did it on a beach once."

"At night?"

"Yeah."

"Sounds romantic. Having sex under the stars."

"Yeah, in theory." - you made a face.

Miguel tilted his head, waiting for you to explain.

"Two words: sand. Everywhere."

Miguel started laughing.

"Not funny. The infection was so bad I was thinking about humping a grater."

Miguel barked out a laugh so loudly several heads turned your way and you giggled, watching as he threw his head back and put his hand over his left boob.

"Shhh!" - you tried to hush him, but you had a hard time containing yourself too.

"Wow! Okay, sex on the beach is officially removed from my bucket list." - he said as he wiped the corner of his eye.

"Orrr, you can be wiser than us and bring a towel."

Miguel chuckled, then he took your hand again.

"Which beach was that?"

"It was in Bora Bora."

Miguel's eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up.

"That must've been a nice vacation."

You smiled as you looked down at your joined hands and you softly caressed his skin, then you looked up at him to see his reaction to your answer.

"Honeymoon."

The expression on his face turned into complete surprise.

"You were married?"

You nodded, still studying his face.

"A few days ago you were shocked that I'm single and now you are shocked that I was married?" - you teased.

He indeed couldn't believe how an attractive woman like you didn't have a husband, let alone a boyfriend yet, but now that he was thinking about it, it was totally understandable that someone tried to tie you to himself forever. Did that make him a bad person that he was glad it didn't last?

"How long?"

"Three years."

"Why did it end?"

He wasn't asking like he was interrogating you, he seemed genuinely curious.

You shrugged.

"We were friends before that. Then it transformed into love. Or what we thought was love. We were a great team before the marriage, but after the wedding it was like we both changed. And not for the better. We talked about it and decided it's better if we go back to the way it was like before. We're still friends."

Miguel nodded understandingly as he continued caressing your hand. It's weird that two people who seemed to click so well ended up divorcing each other. He wondered how happily married couples knew that their partner is gonna be the right one.

"Maybe it was the sand's fault." - he said and he grinned when you giggled.

"You know what? You're right. It was doomed from the start. Now I know why Anakin hated it too."

"First Lord Of The Rings and now Star Wars. Be careful or I'm gonna be your second husband." - he winked with that cocky smirk.

You shook your head with a big grin.

"What if I divorce you too?"

"You wouldn't."

"How do you know?"

"I'd keep you happy."

"Oh? How?"

"I know how to keep a woman satisfied." - he said as he pulled your hand to his mouth again and kissed it, while he looked deep in your eyes.

You felt your cheeks heat up and found it hard to stop smiling.

"You have to be more specific, I'm afraid."

Miguel and you finished eating a few minutes ago and he noticed you didn't leave any leftovers. He also remembered when his mom teased you about liking snacks.

"You want dessert." - he said.

Your eyes widened a little and you started giggling. You thought he's gonna say something sexual, but you were genuinely impressed he could read you so well.

He grinned and looked around trying to get a waiter's attention and soon one approached the table.

Miguel asked for the menu again so you can order something for yourself.

"You're not gonna order anything?" - you asked him.

He shook his head as he reached for his drink.

"I'm full."

While he drank he saw as you started biting your lower lip as your eyes scanned the page, unsure.

"You can order anything you want chica, we're not in a hurry."

You shook your head.

"It's not that." - you murmured.

"It's what then?" - he asked amused.

"I want ice cream and they only have banana split. It's summer, why don't they have more ice cream?" - you asked with a miserable face, making Miguel laugh.

"What kind of ice cream do you want?"

You narrowed your eyes as you looked somewhere far.

"Strawberry. Or lemon?"

"Or both." - he offered.

You pointed at him, nodding. He grinned.

"Let's go then." - he said as he waved the waiter over again to pay.

"Where?" - you frowned.

"It's summer. There are dozens of places across town where they sell ice cream."

You smiled, surprised that he offered to take the time to go there too.

"Hmm, if you keep this up, you're really gonna be my second husband."

"Told you I know how to keep a woman satisfied." - he winked.

-----

"Good?"

"Goooooood." - you answered with a groan while you happily licked your ice cream.

You saw that Miguel tried to take your free hand after you took the ice-cream from the girl, but you acted like you didn't notice and lifted your arm to fix a strand of your hair.

When you arrived in the restaurant, the first thing you did was to look around to see if there were anyone you knew, and you only let Miguel touch you when you knew no one was there who could tell it to Conchata. But out in the street there are more eyes who can see you and it's easier to say you took a friendly walk together than explain why you were holding hands.

"So where are we going?" - you asked as you looked up at him, wanting to see if he was mad that you didn't took his hand.

He was looking straight forward and had a neutral expression on his face.

"It's a surprise."

"What if I don't like it?"

"I think you will."

"What if I don't?"

"We're going to the observatory."

You looked up at him in surprise.

"The observatory?"

"Sí." - he answered and he looked down at you to see your reaction. - "You don't like space?"

You smiled.

"Who doesn't like space? I'm just surprised. Usually guys don't chose the observatory as a date."

"I think I already tried to hint at it a few times that I'm not like other men."

You chuckled.

"You're definitely not."

"Why don't you let me hold your hand?"

Oh, so he did notice.

"I don't want people to see us holding hands and tell it to Conchata."

"You were fine with it when I picked you up."

"We only held hands while we walked down to the taxi. Now we are walking on a busy street." - you answered, focusing on eating your ice-cream. - "This date was going really well, please don't ruin it with starting this again."

"I just asked-"

"And I answered. Let's move on."

Miguel sighed as he looked around to the people walking on the street, sitting on the terraces and just hanging out in groups. His eyes found several couples who were holding hands, leaned against each otner, hugged or kissed. Carefree and happy. Was that too much to ask of you? Was it too selfish that he wanted to feel your soft skin in his hand again, or your sweet lips kissing his?

You saw it.

Him eyeing the couples.

You gulped down the last of your ice cream and threw the napkin in a nearby trashcan. You knew what he felt, you liked being close to him too. But you both agreed that this is gonna be a one-time thing, so you didn't want to lead him on by acting like a real couple. Which you weren't. And never gonna be. On the other hand you didn't like seeing him this... sad, and even if it's just one date, you did this to feel good. There should be an alternative that would put his mind at ease, but was innocent enough that you wouldn't worry if a mutual friend saw you.

Miguel looked down when he felt an arm hook around his elbow, then he looked at you, surprised. He immediately felt all of his worries melt away when you smiled up at him and he mirrored your expression.

He pulled you towards the side a little when he saw a taxi approaching and waved it down, then held the door open for you. After he told the driver the destination, he smiled broadly when you took his hand and intertwined your fingers with his and put your head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of your head and the driver started his small talk about the place you were about to visit.

Once there, you looked around confused when you didn't see any cars in the parking lot.

"Where are the other people?"

Miguel squeezed your hand a little as he led you to the building's entrance.

"We're the only ones."

"How come?" - you asked surprised.

"It's already closed."

"Then how do we get in?"

Miguel just smiled at you and waved at the camera once you were at the door and they slid open. He pulled you inside where a janitor greeted you two. Miguel and him talked about another guy who left him some papers and then Miguel took your hand again and led you to the highest floor to the room where the huge telescope was.

"Okay, how come we are allowed in here?" - you asked with an excited smile.

"An old friend of mine is working here and I asked him if we could come here after closing time. He agreed, but he made me swore on my life that I don't fuck up the telescope. So please, don't touch anything." - he said with a warning glance.

"Oh? What does this button do?" - you asked as you lifted your finger like you wanted to push one.

Miguel rolled his eyes, but he had a small smirk on his face.

"Brat."

You chuckled and watched him walk to one of the walls and push a button. The dome of the observatory started to open and you looked up, wondering what planets or stars you'll be bale to see. He came back to you while he read the notes his friend left him. In a few minutes he started one of the computers and typed something in it, until the telescope started to move.

You jumped a little and took a step back and you looked at Miguel, who gave you an excited smile then walked around you to look into the telescope when it stopped moving.

"Mhm, there she is." - he murmured then grabbed your hand to pull you in front of him as he took a step back.

"Oh, so we're using a giant ass telescope to spy on people, okay." - you said suspiciously as you let him move you and you looked into the telescope.

Miguel smiled when he heard you gasp.

"Oh my god, it's so huge!"

"That's what she said." - he joked and when you giggled he gently wrapped his arms around you from behind. When you didn't pull away he hugged you tighter and lowered his face to murmur in your ear. - "You like it?"

"Yeah, this is awesome!" - you replied with a grin as you kept looking at the Moon. It wasn't full, part of the Earth blocked the Sun, but you still saw a good amount of it.

You could see the the different craters and how detailed the surface was.

"Look here for a sec." - Miguel said and you pulled away. He held up a photo of the Moon for you and there were numbers on different parts of it. - "You see number six?"

You looked into the telescope again and hummed in affirmation.

"It's called Mare Fecunditatis."

You hummed again and he grinned.

"Or in other words: Sea of Fertility."

You pulled away to give him a look, but you both burst out laughing.

"Okay, smartass, what else am I seeing?" - you asked as you looked back into the telescope.

Miguel told you the names of the various craters and you both switched looking at them in the next few minutes, with him staying behind you and leaning over your shoulder when you pulled to the side a little. He then stepped away and walked to the computer again and started typing until the telescope moved again.

He smiled when he saw you look at the sky with excitement and he hugged you again from behind and kissed your cheek.

"How do you like the date so far?" - he asked in a whisper.

"It's not bad." - you replied with a teasing smile as you turned your head to look at him. He saw your eyes sparkle with happiness, then he looked down at your lips, not being able to get your first kiss out of his head.

You got on your tiptoes and Miguel leaned down more to capture your lips with his. He sighed in content, like he was relieved that he can have you this close again and he slowly lifted one of his hands to gently cup the side of your face. He licked the seam of your lips and his heart started beating insanely fast when you opened up to him. When your tongues met, you let out a soft moan, and pushed yourself back more into his warm body, like you wanted to be consumed by him entirely. When Miguel felt that, he kissed you harder which you eagerly returned and soon his hand moved lower from your face, until it almost fully enveloped your neck. You shuddered in his arms and he squeezed your throat a little while his tongue fought with yours for dominance, until you both ran out of breath and pulled back a little.

You both panted softly while you remained close, and he nuzzled your nose before kissing you once more.

"We should stop this before I fuck you against the nearest surface, which is a very expensive telescope." - he whispered against your lips, when he felt you trying to rub against him.

"And here I thought there's an opportunity to have sex under the stars without getting sand in my holes."

Miguel laughed and you felt him caress your stomach, hips and waist slowly, but firmly as he kissed your neck, where you heard him sniff you again. You swore he was obsessed with your scent.

"The stars are not visible yet, though." - he pointed out. The sky wasn't fully dark yet, since it was summer and it was only around 8 pm.

"Just because you can't see them, doesn't mean they're not there."

"I should be the one saying romantic stuff." - he murmured as his left hand remained on your hip while his other sneaked down to your thigh, then back, and up towards your chest.

"You can keep being filthy." - you sighed and you leaned your head back against his shoulder, while he was looking down at your cleavage.

"Yeah, I noticed you like that." - he said lowly as he took a hold of the zipper on the front of your dress and started playing with it.

"What are you doing?" - you asked as you lifted one of your hands and run your fingers through his hair.

"Just wanna take a lil' peek." - he said innocently.

You smiled and turned your head to kiss him again, and he used both of his hands to cup your breasts through the material and massage them firmly, making you moan into his mouth. He swallowed the sounds hungrily and you pulled away, panting.

"Just a small peek."

"Just taking a tiny glance at them." - he teased, breathing heavily, and he grabbed the zipper again and started pulling it down. - "Ah, fuck..."

He saw as the material revealed more and more of your soft boobs and he growled when he saw your lacy black bra peeking out. He grabbed your breasts again and played with them, and when he felt you push your ass back against him again, he moved a little, until you could feel the growing bulge in his pants.

"Oh my fucking god..." - you whispered, rubbing against it.

Miguel smirked as he grabbed the roots of your hair and moved your head to the side forcefully, so he can bite your neck. You felt his teeth sank a little into your skin, with his pointy canine teeth first, and you let out a helpless whine as he sucked and licked at the sensitive spot.

"If you don't stop we're gonna end up fucking against the very expensive telescope." - you moaned.

"I kinda stopped giving a fuck about accidentally breaking it." - he growled in your ear as he pulled you even closer with his other arm that was around your stomach.

"I kinda find it hot, that you're so desperate."

He gave a final kiss to your neck with a soft grunt, before he let go of your hair and he nuzzled your ear.

"It's on Uranus."

"Mhm, yeah I can feel it."

Miguel snorted, then pulled his hips back.

"The telescope, chica. It's looking at Uranus." - he said and lightly slapped your ass.

"Oh." - you said and you fixed your hair a little then stepped to the telescope to look into it. - "Now that's just disappointing."

"Well, since we're here I thought we should look at as many plantes as we can, and then we can continue what we started once we're back at your plac-"

"No. Uranus. Uranus is disappointing."

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's tiny."

Miguel pulled you away from the telescope as he stepped to it.

"He's doing his best." - he narrowed his eyes at you before he looked in the telescope.

You giggled and checked out Miguel's ass, biting your lip.

"Yours puts his into shame."

Miguel pulled away and turned to you with a grin while shaking his head.

"Who's next?" - you asked when he walked to the computer again.

"Neptune."

"Ooohhh. Isn't he the fartest though?"

"Yeah, but we can still see it."

"He's gonna be small too." - you pouted.

"And women say size doesn't matter." - Miguel muttered as he moved back to you and you gave him an innocent grin.

"Thought you said that you don't have any problems in that area."

Miguel grabbed your hand and pulled you between him and the telescope.

"You'll see for yourself soon." - he said in a low voice as you looked into it again.

"It looks like Uranus."

"It doesn't."

"It does."

"Neptune is a bit darker."

"A bit. There's a tiny white spot below it."

"Let me see."

Miguel leaned over your shoulder as he looked into the telescope. He hummed then checked the notes his friend left him, then looked into the telescope again.

"I think that's Triton."

"Ariel's dad?"

Miguel gave you a look, and you laughed as you felt him pull on your shoulder to make you take a look again.

"One of Neptune's moons."

"And Ariel's dad." - you muttered. - "How many moons does Neptune have?"

"Fourteen."

"And how do you know it's Triton?"

"That's the largest."

"That's why he's the king."

Miguel poked your side, making you giggle, and when you looked at him, he kissed you, much more innocently than before.

"You're such a smartass." - he said.

"No, I'm funny."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that." - he muttered and you elbowed him with a playful glare. - "Next up: Venus."

"Oh, I love Venus!"

"You do?" - Miguel asked as he typed on the computer.

"Yeah, I used to look at her a lot with my sister while we were kids. Only with binoculars through."

Miguel smiled then he checked the telescope before he gestured with his head for you to look into it.

You licked your lips as you did and you smiled widely.

"She's so bright! Hey, wait a minute."

"What do you see?"

"It's not full."

"Yeah, it can have phases like the Moon."

"What the hell, I didn't know that!" - you said excited as you inspected it more. - "That's so cool. Did you want to be an astronaut when you were a kid?"

"Among other things, yeah." - Miguel chuckled.

"What else?" - you asked as you looked at him with a smile.

"A fighter."

You laughed.

"A fighter? What kind of fighter?"

"Have you seen Kickboxer?"

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped.

"With Jean Claude Van Damme?" - you asked increduolusly, and Miguel started to chuckle as a small blush appeared on his cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.

"Yeah."

"Oh my god, no!" - you laughed. - "Please no!"

"Yes."

"No!"

Miguel started to laugh harder when he saw you double over, trying to get air into your lungs while you were wheezing.

"How do you even know about the movie, it's older than you?!" - you asked while you wiped your eyes.

"I caught it on TV once and then I became obsessed, so I downloaded it."

"You mean to tell me you watched it more than once WILLINGLY?"

"It's one of the best movies ever made!"

"SHUT UP!" - you almost screamed as you laughed.

"Okay, boomer, what did you want to be when you were a kid?"

"A princess, obviously."

Miguel laughed amused.

"Obviously."

"Yeah, but like. I didn't know it was a title, I thought it was a job."

Miguel barked out a laugh.

"You thought all you had to do is to doll up and look pretty until a prince comes and falls in love with you?"

"Yeah, EZ." - you said smugly as you acted like you dusted your shoulder off.

Miguel laughed harder and he caught your hand to pull you closer to him. He wrapped his arms around your waist and smiled happily when you pushed yourself against him and hugged his neck.

"You're so silly." - he chuckled and pushed his forehead against yours.

"You're silly." - you pouted playfully as you grabbed some of his hair on the back of his head and tugged on the locks lightly.

"You're doing your job right though, this prince is hooked."

"Oh, so you're a prince now?"

He nodded as he eyed your lips.

"Like a fighter prince?"

"You're never gonna let it go, are you?"

"Never. I'm gonna tell it to my sister."

"So she can bully me too?"

"Nah. She loves that movie too."

Miguel laughed.

"Maybe I asked the wrong sister out."

"Maybe."

"I like this one better though."

"Mhm... And why is that?" - you asked as you lifted your head so now your lips were touching lightly.

"This one's funnier."

"Oh, don't say that in front of her." - you warned.

"Hmm, maybe you should shut my mouth, so it doesn't slip."

"Smooth." - you commented and kissed him.

Miguel smiled into the kiss and he hugged you even closer to him.

You melted into the kiss, loving how much bigger he was compared to you. Compared to anyone, really. His chest and shoulders were so wide, and you could feel the enormous muscles under a healthy amount of fat, that made a very deeply buried instinct inside you pulse satisfied. You're going to just call it cavewoman dna for now.

His arms enveloped you in a way that made you feel safe and warm and you would have loved nothing more than to spend the rest of your life wrapped up nicely between them.

The way he kissed you was the best part though. It was like he could read your body perfectly and knew what you needed. In the restaurant it was innocent, yet warm, like he knew you didn't want to be the center of attention by pulling every pair of eyes on you in such a public place, but you still wanted them to know, especially that young woman that he belonged to you. Earlier when he kissed you for the first time in private it was hot and controlling in a way that made your body and soul shake with anticipation, yet he didn't force it, but lead you with fiery passion.

And you followed him gladly.

Now, your fingers got lost in his hair again as his own hands slipped lower on your body until they reached the curve of your ass where he squeezed you to him even more if it was possible. He turned his head and opened his mouth, and when you followed suit, suddenly one of his hands cupped the side of your head just behind your ear to make sure he had you right where he wanted you. When his tongue entered your mouth, it wasn't demanding, but teasing, like he wanted you to cross that line that seperated basic instict from buring passion.

And god, you were burning for this man.

As you kissed him back, chasing his taste that made you hungrier for more, you fisted his hair to pull him closer and closer, like you wanted to become one with him.

The sound he made at the back of his throat was downright pornographic, and he had to use every ounce of self control he had left to pull away when the noise pulled out an even dirtier one from you.

"Fuck, you're killing me." - he whispered against your mouth.

"You're the one to talk, I didn't touch myself since Monday."

"I told you I'm gonna make up for it."

"I'm starting to think you're all talk and no action."

"Hmm, maybe I should do something about that." - he said against your mouth as he reached down to grab the other zipper, which was at the bottom of your dress and he started to pull it up.

"What are you doing?" - you asked as your eyes widened a little and you grabbed his forearm.

Your body wanted it badly, but your mind was on alert.

He kissed your neck, leaving needy bites along your skin as he was making his way up to your ear, while he pulled the zipper up to your stomach and teased the line of your panties with his fingers.

"My friend told me he only agreed to let us come here, because the cameras are not working so he won't get in trouble for it."

"Wh- what about the janitor?" - you asked breathlessly. You wanted him touch you so bad, that you could feel the blood - and all coherent thoughts with it - leave your brain.

"He won't come up." - he reassured you as his fingers slipped inside your panties, but he only caressed your mound, waiting for your final permission. He kept kissing your jaw and neck, sometimes just pecking it teasingly, then switching to lick your skin and softly suck on your sensitive spots.

You moved your head to look at him and when you saw the look in his eyes you swore you almost came on the spot. He looked even more desperate than you, which you didn't think was possible until that moment. He wanted to touch you, to make you feel good so badly, he almost looked pained.

"Please, carino. I have to touch you, I wanted this since the night I met you." - he whispered heatedly, and fuck it made your pussy throb with want.

You saw his eyes light up when he felt you move one of your legs to spread yourself more for him and he didn't waste any more time. His hand slipped lower until he reached your slit, and he pushed his middle finger between the lips teasingly. You both moaned loudly: him at the wetness he felt there and you at the feeling such a simple touch could ignite in you.

"Fuck, look at that." - he whispered against your lips as he made his fingers wetter by caressing your entrance and then he pulled them up to smooth them over your clit.

You grabbed the roots of his hair at the back of his head roughly and pulled him down so you can kiss him fiercely.

Miguel knew he was right when he thought you won't want him to be gentle when you are finally together and he quickly turned you to push you back against the nearest table. When your ass hit the side of it, he grabbed your throat while his other hand was still in your panties and made you lean back on the table, holding you down while he started rubbing your clit harder and faster.

"Fuck!" - you moaned out helplessly as you grabbed his wrist and forearm. Your eyes rolled back into your head and it felt like your legs spread wider for him on their own.

Miguel smirked when he saw that.

"I knew it, chica. You love it when I control you."

"Mmm, fuck you..." - you whined breathlessly as you started moving your hips, to chase that sweet relief.

"You're close already? Poor thing, you really were an obedient little girl and didn't touch yourself like I asked." - he cooed and watched as you were trying to get off. He moved his hand lower again and teased your entrance with his middle finger while he pushed the heel of his palm against your clit hard, making you moan louder. - "Fuck, you're so hot like this." - he let go of your throat so he can grab the other zipper that was at your cleavage and he pulled it down until it met the other one at your stomach. He pulled your dress to the sides so your lacy black bra was fully visible and you felt him rub his bulge into your inner thigh with a groan. - "You're a fucking goddess, baby." - he whispered heatedly as he leaned down and buried his face into the spot between your breasts and kissed and licked your soft skin there needily.

You moaned and arched your back when he roughly pulled down one cup and captured your nipple between his lips, sucking on it and flicking it with his tongue, while he pushed his finger inside you, making you cry out.

"Fuck, Miguel!" - your fingers got lost between his locks, pulling on them hard as he started fucking his finger into you, while you desperately moved your hips, trying to rub your clit against his palm.

His finger was so much bigger than yours. Not just longer, but thicker too and you were losing your mind over how much better it felt than your own. Now yours seemed to be pathetic when you tried to get off on your own.

Miguel sucked on your nipple hard one last time, before letting it go with a loud smacking noise then he started kissing his way up to your mouth, leaving a wet path over your skin. When he finally reached your lips, you kissed him back passionately, but he let you pull away every few seconds to get some much needed air into your lungs.

"Think you can handle another finger?" - he teased you. - "Not that you have any other choice if you want my cock to fit."

His words sent a delicious shiver down your spine which went directly into your pussy and Miguel chuckled when a new wave of wetness oozed out of you.

"Such a dirty fucking girl." - he growled and fuck, why did he sound so much better than any porn actor that ever existed?

"Do you ever shut up?" - you asked, trying to sound annoyed, but you knew he knew perfectly well you loved his voice and the filth that came out of that beautiful mouth of his.

Miguel chuckled.

"If you hate it that much, why don't you sit on my face, chica?"

You pulled his face closer roughly and kissed him hard. The needy sounds that came out of you made Miguel grin against your lips, and he felt you move even wilder under him.

"Maybe I'll do that if you fuck me good." - you breathed against his lips.

You didn't even finish the sentence when you felt him pull out then the stretch of two fingers trying to slip in. Your body tensed up and you closed your eyes thigtly, grabbing his locks even harder.

"Shhh, chica. Shhh..." - he cooed, and started kissing your face and neck sweetly. - "Relax, carino." - he said as he tried to push them inside. He knew you could take them, you were just tensing up. - "Open your eyes."

You sighed and looked at him. His dark red eyes made you start to relax and he smiled, kissing your lips, then he looked down when he felt your walls ease up around his digits.

"That's it, chica. Let me fuck you good." - he cooed.

You slipped your hands from his hair to cup his face and you made him look at you again.

"Keep looking at me." - you panted, and Miguel smiled when he remembered when you told him on the night you met that you thought his eyes are beautiful.

He pushed his fingers deeper and deeper with every thrust, and you struggled to keep your noises to a minimum.

"You like it when I watch you?" - he asked, nuzzling your nose.

You nodded, panting into his mouth.

"Then let me see you cum, amor."

Your eyes widened when he curled his fingers and he started rubbing that spot that made your whole body shudder with pleasure.

"Miggy!" - you cried out, and you only needed a few more of his skilled movements until you came hard around his fingers.

"That's it, mi vida, so beautiful." - he said, kissing your neck as your walls squeezed his digits rhythmically.

"Fuck..." - you whispered, as you collapsed back on the table, but Miguel leaned down and kissed you heatedly.

You circled your arms around his neck and kissed him back, while he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine.

"Tranquila, chica. I'm not going anywhere." - he whispered calmingly, as he kept kissing you as you kept holding onto him.

"I can't believe I didn't let you do this sooner." - you panted, making him laugh.

"Right? You're such an idiot."

"I am." - you said and you let your hand slid down his strong shoulder and chest, down his hard abs, until you reached the bulge in his pants, where you started to caress him. The size of him made your mouth water.

"Naughty." - he whispered as he pulled his hand away from between your legs and lifted it to your mouth.

He made your lips wet with your juices then he kissed you deeply, making you moan.

He was so dirty, and it turned you on like no one ever before.

"You taste good, chica."

"Then let's continue." - you whispered needily as you caressed him harder, but he grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand away.

"Let's go back to your place first." - he said and leaned down to kiss your breast again then he pulled your bra up to cover it.

You watched as he straightened up, then he took your hand and helped you stand. He licked the remaining taste of you off his fingers while with his other hand he helped you readjust your dress and pull the zippers back to their places. Before he went back to the computer to shut it off, he pulled you close again to kiss you.

You got on your tiptoes and smiled against his mouth when you felt him hug you stronger.

"You have no idea how hard I am trying to not to fuck you right now."

"I think I know." - you teased as you caressed him again.

He growled and gave you a final kiss, before he turned to the telescope to shut everything down.

-----

The drive back to your apartment was the longest car ride Miguel ever had to endure, even if it barely took 25 minutes. He helped you into the taxi first, then when he walked around the car to get inside, you slid closer to him and wrapped yourself around his right arm, pushing your body against him as tightly as possible. You crossed your legs in a way that when you lifted your right leg over the other, it also rested against Miguel's thigh.

Fuck. As much as he loved having your body so close to his, this was fucking torture.

The chatty driver was enough distraction that he could focus on something else than how warm and nice your body felt against his, but he still could hear the noises you made while he fucked you with his fingers and his fingers twitched like he could still feel how wet you were only from that.

You felt how tense Miguel's body was next to yours and you couldn't help but caress the hard muscles of his chest and stomach over his shirt.

Miguel kept looking forward and if you didn't know better you would have thought that he was pissed from the way he clenched his jaw every once in a while.

You found him very sexy. Everything in him turned you on and you only had to take one look at him, and it was enough to fuck up all the well balanced chemical flows in your body and reduce you to a brainless pile of flesh which only purpose was to get its hands on that fine male and let him fuck you until he ensured the future of his species.

You sighed. While part of you loved how strongly he can make you feel, another part of you didn't like it. You were a strong, independent woman and he was making you feel like you needed him in your life.

Miguel caught your hand when it started to travel too low for his comfort. Well, that wasn't entirely true, he very much liked where your hand was going, and maybe he liked naughty sex, but fucking you in front of behind a cabbie was not on his list for tonight.

He lifted your hand and kissed your fingers. He liked the colour you chose for your nails and he couldn't wait to see them sank into his skin as he fucks orgasm after orgasm out of you. He hoped you'll leave marks on his body. He'll definitely leave some on yours. Maybe you said you will only let this happen tonight, but he wants you to wake up in the morning and see what he did to you the night before. To feel what he did. To make you remember. To make you want to feel it again.

Miguel was walking behind you as you were walking up the stairs to you door and you bit the inside of your cheek nervously when the silence between you two grew even after you exited the cab.

He didn't even touch you when you started opening your door, like he did when you were leaving before the date. Did he look mad in the car, because he was actually mad?

The second you turned to close the door after both of you were inside, you felt Miguel grab you to pull you to him, while with his other hand, he shut the door with a little bit more force than necessary and it banged loudly in the otherwise quiet apartment. He murmured a barely audible "fucking finally" under his nose as he pushed you up against the wall and kissed you deeply with a satisfied moan.

You let your key and bag fall to the floor and your fingers got lost in his hair again, your nails scraping his scalp lightly, making him shudder.

"Love it when you do that." - he said lowly as his hands slipped lower on your body to grab you under your ass and he lifted you up like you weighted nothing.

You giggled against his mouth, making him grin. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he started walking and you grabbed his locks, pulling on them hard on purpose.

The force of it made Miguel's head tilt backwards and he closed his eyes, moaning in pleasure.

"Love it when you do that." - you said teasingly and you saw the corner of his mouth curl up.

You kissed each other again as he tried to maneuver through your apartment and into your bedroom, but the couch was much closer and safer, since he accidentally kicked a drawer on his way and managed to bang your back into a shelf.

When he heard your painful groan, he wanted to apologize, but when you didn't let him pull away from you to do that, he licked deeper into your mouth, like he wanted to make out with your soul.

"You kiss so good." - you whispered heatedly as you quickly came up for air, then dived back in to taste him more.

Miguel waited for his reply until you both ran out of breath again.

"You're fucking terrible." - he said as he finally felt the couch with his knee and he turned around to sit down on it, with you in his lap. - "You need practice." - he said between kisses. - "A lot of practice."

He felt you yank on his hair roughly. Rougher than before and he fucking whined as his head snapped back forcefully.

No woman before you was able to make him do that.

When he tried to lift it back to kiss you again, you kept him there and started kissing and biting his neck while with your other hand you started to unbutton his shirt and caressed his strong chest before scraping it with your nails as you rolled your hips against his bulge.

"Fuuuck..." - Miguel moaned as he grabbed your hips to pull your pussy more forcefully over his throbbing dick.

He closed his eyes and pushed his hips up to feel your heat even more. You were sucking his neck like a fucking vampire and the thought that it will definitely bruise made his blood boil with lust.

Despite him loving what you were doing, he really didn't want to cum in his pants, so his hands slipped up your body and he grabbed the upper zipper of your dress and started pulling it down. His other hand caught your wrist, squeezing it until your iron grip on his hair loosened and he pulled it away, then he pushed you off of himself a bit forcefully. You stumbled a little, and Miguel helped you balance, before he roughly tugged the zipper down all the way and pushed your dress down your shoulders and yanked it down your arms.

He eyed your body for a few seconds until you kicked down your high heels, admiring how good you looked in the black, lacy lingerie set, then he pulled you to him again to kiss your boobs. He bit, licked and sucked the soft flesh while he reached around you to unclasp your bra and pull them down from your body too.

You didn't have time to feel nervous about definitely not being as taut as when you were in your early twenties and what Miguel was definitely used to, because the man already opened his mouth wide, swalloning your left boob and sucking on it, until only your nipple was in his mouth. He gave it a slight tug with his teeth and then licked it as an half assed apology, before he turned to your other breast to give it the same attention.

"Miguel." - you chuckled quietly and he opened his eyes as he was still sucking your nipple and looked up at you with an absolutely drunk expression. - "You're like a hungry wolf." - you teased him as you caressed his scalp with your nails, the way just how he liked it.

"Who finally can have the meal he set his eyes on fucking ages ago." - he murmured as he pushed your boobs together and he licked and bit them again, before his hands caressed their way down your stomach until he reached your panties, and he started tugging them down as he started kissing his way there on your body with wet licks.

He was so fucking impatient and it was impossible to not to be turned on by that. He was young, healthy and full of strenght, with an enormous sexual appetite that needed to be satisfied. Your panties were fucking drenched at the way he was handling you. He wasn't fucking around. He knew what he wanted, what you wanted, and he won't stop until both of you collapse from exhaustion.

Your panties didn't even reach your ankles before he was pushing his face between your still partly closed thighs with a hungry growl and when he was too annoyed to wait until they were off, he simply ripped them in half.

"Miguel!" - you gasped shocked, but he was already pulling one of your legs over his shoulder and he pushed his tongue between your lips to find your hole and drink up your sweet arousal right from the source, which scent was driving him crazy ever since he caught a wiff of it when he was knuckles deep in you before. - "Oh my god!" - you breathed and grabbed the roots of his hair for balance when he pumped his tongue in and out, trying to lick everything out of you. - "Oh my fucking god!" - you moaned in ecstasy, shuddering at the feeling when he licked his way up to your clit, where he flattened his tongue and started rubbing it over and over the sensitive nub.

This man was trying to fucking kill you. This was fucking murder.

You felt his fingers sank into your skin as he refused to let you pull away even for a second. Not that you wanted to. The low growls, moans and grunts he made while he was eating you out were the cherry on top. It was clear as day for you: Miguel liked eating pussy.

Miguel's cock twiched in his pants when he felt your taste on his tongue and he couldn't get enough. It was warm and sweet with a slightly salty undertone and the scent of it was fucking maddening. On top of that your juices were flowing out of your pussy like he just turned on a fucking faucet. His mouth and jaw were completely covered by it, by you, and if he drowned right now it would be the best fucking death he could've ever wished for.

His face was buried in your most intimate parts, but he wanted more. For some reason it still wasn't enough. He needed more.

He liked to give oral, he always wanted his partners to enjoy sex, but this was something else. He doesn't just want you to enjoy it. No.

He wanted to drive you crazy. He wanted you to want more too. He didn't just want you to moan and cry and cum and be satisfied. No.

He needed you to be as feral as him. It couldn't be just only him, right? You had to feel the same. If you didn't have the same feelings like the ones raging inside of him like a storm then he will never want to experience this again. It would kill him if he couldn't make you feel the same. It would destroy him if another man could.

He opened his eyes just when you threw your head back as you were desperately clinging to his hair to keep your balance. Your chest rose and fall wildly as you tried to suck air into your lungs between the pathetic noises you were making.

They were beautiful to Miguel.

Those sounds belonged to him.

This scent belonged to him.

Your taste belonged to him.

You belonged to him...

He only now noticed the beautiful rhythm your bodies were playing. You were so tightly connected, that everytime he pushed his jaw forward to lick into you deeper, your body followed the movement, like it was made to do that.

He pulled your hips closer.

It wasn't enough...

What the fuck were you doing to him?

He pulled away a little and slightly moved on the couch so he can lay back on it.

"Ride my face." - he whispered impatiently as he was pulling your hips with him. - "Ride my fucking face."

Before you could do anything, you were already sitting on him. He only let go of your hips until he grabbed your hands and pushed on them harder on his scalp. You looked down at him and when you saw his eyes, you knew what he wanted. He wanted all of you, without limits.

You were so lost in pleasure that at this point you seriously didn't care if you accidentally suffocated him. This man was made for sex.

Miguel's beautiful ruby irises were barely visible because his pupils were blown wide with lust. Yet, you could easily detect the second when they lit up, when you started rolling your hips against his face, rubbing your wet, needy pussy all over his jaw, mouth and nose, unashamed. There were no taboos with this man. He didn't let you have time to think about feeling shy. If he wanted you to fuck his face, he will make you fuck his face.

He loved when you kept looking at him and his heart almost burst inside his chest when he saw your eyes were fogged by pleasure.

He only pulled away from your pussy to get some air inside his lungs, then he sucked your clit between his lips and flicked it with his tongue until you were a mewling mess above him, then he pulled away again.

"Will you be a good girl and cum for me?" - he asked as he licked into your hole again. He fucking loved your taste.

"Will you be a good boy and shut up?" - you growled back heatedly and Miguel chuckled as his face was pushed so deep in your pussy again that the only thing he could do was to worship it.

And worship it he did.

Your body was moving in a passionate rhythm again, but this time you were the one to dictate the tempo. Miguel always wanted you to be this needy. He wanted you to need him. What was the fucking purpose of him meeting you if you didn't cling to him like this all the time?

Miguel groaned long and low, when you cried out in pleasure suddenly and he felt you drown him in even more of your sweet sweet nectar. He helped you ride out the waves of your orgasm, until you forcefully pulled yourself away from his mouth and he let out a displeased grunt.

His tongue wasn't done cleaning you.

When he saw you want to climb off of him completely, he grabbed your wrist and pushed on your hips so you only slid lower, then he pulled you towards him, until your naked body was laying on his still fully clothed one.

He felt you relax when he wrapped his arms around you and he smiled when he felt you bury your face into his neck, still panting. He then moved his jaw a little trying to get rid of the ache in it. Not that he minded feeling it when the cause of it was your bliss.

"I can't believe I didn't let you do this sooner."

Miguel laughed and kissed the top of your head.

"I know. You're a bigger idiot than I originally thought."

You lifted your head to glare at him, but he only smiled and pulled your face closer so he could kiss you.

You smelled and tasted yourself on his lips and face and you cursed yourself when you realized how much you loved your scent on him. He should always have it on him. So silly little girls like the one in the restaurant wouldn't dare to go near him.

You frowned and pulled away, then cleared your throat.

"Are you okay, though? Sorry if I got uh... carried away."

You felt his hands caress your waist, hips and ass, then they moved back up while he looked at you with a small smirk.

"I love it when you get carried away."

To prove to you that he is not lying, he moved his hips a little, until you felt his erection poke your inner thigh.

You chuckled and sat up on him, moving a bit lower until you could rub yourself on his bulge. Miguel's fingertips sank into your hips as he let out a groan. Feeling the warmth between your legs made him go mad. It felt like you were in fucking heat.

"You're still in your clothes." - you pouted and tugged on his shirt that was unbuttoned halfway.

Miguel sat up and kissed you deeply, and he helped you move as you started rubbing yourself on him again. He jerked off twice earlier that day, once in the morning and once not long before the date, and he still needed a lot of self control not to lose his mind and just fuck you until his balls are completely empty. You deserved more than a quick fuck. He wanted more than a quick fuck.

Your quiet sighs and soft moans melted his heart and he couldn't stop caressing your body. This kiss was lazier than the previous ones, but still deep and hungry.

"Then undress me, chica."

You pulled away again to glare at him.

"I was about to! Then you jumped at me like a... like a...!" - you said accousingly, but didn't finish your sentence, too focused on unbuttoning his shirt with your slightly shaking fingers. The orgasm was so intense you still felt the effects it had on your body.

"Like a what?" - he asked as he caressed your breast, and teased your nipples with his thumbs.

He was doing this on purpose. He saw you were barely able to free the buttons, and him playing with you distracted you more. You saw his eyes twinkle playfully.

Fuck him.

You grabbed the shirt on both sides and tugged on it harshly, making the remaining buttons fly in every direction.

"Like a bad boy." - you said and before he can react after the shock, you roughly pushed on his chest, making him fall back, while you slid down from his lap to the floor on your knees.

You saw him push himself up on his elbows, panting while you were unbuckling his belt impatiently, but with much more success than how you were handling his shirt.

"That was my favourite shirt, chica." - he growled.

"And I'm gonna rip your favourite pants too if you keep bitching." - you snapped back as you unzipped and unbuttoned his pants and tugged them down, until they slipped to his ankles. You chuckled darkly when you saw his black Calvin Klein boxer briefs, but you could feel your mouth water at the enormous bulge that was covered by them. - "Fuck, babyboy." - you purred in a sultry voice as you slipped your hand over it to caress him and Miguel threw his head back with a needy moan, while he bucked his hips up into your palm.

When he looked down again to see your manicured fingers torture him more, he gulped hard then he lifted his gaze to meet yours while you grabbed the waistband of his underwear.

"Funny that you call me a bitch, when you're the one who's about to suck a dick."

Despite feeling like he will fucking die if you don't touch him soon, he still felt the need to talk back to you.

He felt his blood heat up inside his veins when your gaze turned fiery at his words. You always looked at him like that when he said something that seemingly pissed you off, but he knew deep down you liked it. He fucking loved that look. It made him feel so alive.

"Or I just make you cum in your boxers." - you tilted your head while lifting an eyebrow as you caressed him again. You can play this game too.

You saw his adam's apple bob as he gulped hard. His chest was rising and falling heavily, and the muscles in his lower abdomen flexed in the same time you felt his cock twitch under your palm.

Oh, he was a piece of art.

You saw his eyebrows furrow in a pleading way, but he remained quiet.

"I'm listening." - you said, and you leaned down to kiss his hipbone lightly.

He whined.

It was barely audible, but your ears perked up. You loved to make him do that sound.

You licked the same spot pushing your hot, wet tongue hard against his skin.

You heard a quiet 'mierda' as he panted heavily.

You opened your mouth more and bit down hard.

"Fucking...... FUCK!" - he grabbed the roots of your hair hard and growled. - "I swear if you don't start sucking my co-!"

All of the remaining words died in his throat when you pushed yourself up and grabbed his jaw, painfully, and made him look at you. Your manicured nails dig into his chin deeply and he hissed loudly.

"Say fucking please and mommy will think about it!" - you growled lowly and you felt as his grip in your hair loosened as his look turned softer. You slowly lifted a challenging eyebrow again.

"P-please."

"Please what?"

"Please, mamí."

Your hold on his jaw loosened and you kissed his lips softly while you turned your hand and caressed his chin with the back of your fingers.

"That's a good boy." - you cooed as you sank on your knees again and you pulled his boxer briefs down.

When his cock bounced up your eyes widened.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

This was not a big cock.

This was a b.i.g. cock.

Your eyes snapped up to look at him with a gaze that said 'is this for fucking real?'.

Miguel gulped hard again before he spoke.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm so fucking turned on that I'm probably gonna cum the second your mouth touches it."

A small laugh bubbled up from your chest and you licked your lips as you carefully wrapped your fist around the base. You tried to. He was fucking thick. He hummed a little as his head lolled to the side as he watched you with hooded eyes.

"I sure hope so, or else this thing will dislocate my fucking jaw." - you murmured.

Miguel laughed, but it soon turned into a choked moan when you wrapped your lips around the head and sucked on it gently. Your tongue licked him as you pulled your head back and let him go.

"Hmm, you didn't finish. ER, here we come." - you said before you dived back in, and before Miguel had time to react you swallowed half of his cock while your hands gripped the rest of it. Your mouth was hot, your lips were soft and slippery, and he groaned out loud when he felt the back of your throat with his tip, while your hands and mouth massaged his cock slowly, but firmly.

He felt some spit flow down to his balls as you bobbed your head back and forth, experimently.

Oh, this was heavenly.

He knew he was huge and there were girls who were too eager to please him. They sucked him too roughly, and too fast, gripping his cock too hard in their tiny fists while they tried to take all of him down their throat, making them clumsy and it resulted in them accidentally using their teeth.

He only ever enjoyed blow jobs in his fantasies, and while he wanted you to suck his cock, he would've been completely fine with you playing with his tip and jerk off the rest, like how he usually requested from his previous partners.

But you made sure your teeth were hidden behind your soft lips and your mouth was full with so much spit that his cock was slipping in and out nice and easy. You were grabbing the rest of him with just the right amount of pressure, not acting like you were afraid it will gone wild if you don't intimidate it.

The best part was that he felt you moved your tongue left and right while your head moved back and forth. It made him buck up his hips a little to feel it more, but he tried to control himself. He didn't want to accidentally hurt you.

And fuck, you were going so slowly. But he found himself enjoying it. You were sucking him like you enjoyed having his cock in your mouth and it pleased you just as much as it pleased him. You sometimes hummed in content and when he opened his eyes to look down at you, his heart skipped a beat when he saw you were watching him. It looked like your eyes were smiling and when you pulled back with a harder suck and let his cock slip from your mouth with a small wet sound, you took in a deep breath and he saw that you were indeed smiling.

"Good?" - you asked quietly as you kept moving your hand up and down his lenght.

Miguel wanted to laugh.

Good? It felt fucking amazing. He reached out with one hand and caressed your cheek.

"Very good, chica." - he whispered as he panted. - "So fucking good."

You beamed up at him and licked his cock from the base to his tip teasingly while you kept looking at him and Miguel was a fucking goner. You truly enjoyed pleasing him and didn't just act like it to try and turn him on more. This wasn't an act like you tried to be the best fuck of his life by being sultry and dirty. You tested the waters while you sucked him, didn't just dived in and tried to devour him and you checked in with him to make sure he was enjoying it.

"I will try to take you deeper, but if you push on my head I'll break your hand." - you said simply and then your mouth was swalloning him again.

Miguel moaned low and long as he felt his tip slip to your throat and it squeezed him as you gagged a little. You pulled back a little and sighed then went back and took him deeper, until your lips touched your hand that was holding the rest of him. He felt your throat contract around a good amount his cock and you let out a small uncomfortable sound and when you pulled back so much drool came out if your mouth that he felt it drip down his hips.

"Fuck..." - he panted as he tried to not grab your head and fuck your mouth. - "Are you okay?"

You hummed in affirmation and started sucking him faster and with a bit more force while your hand started jerking him off.

Miguel cursed and this time he couldn't stop his hands from moving to your hair and he gripped your roots. He didn't push you, but it turned him on even more that he could hold you while you were sucking him.

His eyes rolled back when he felt as he slipped deeper and deeper down your throat, while your hands worked on the rest of him.

"Who's hungry now?" - he asked as he rolled his hips forward just a little and he felt the nails on your other hand that was resting on his thigh sank into his skin, making him hiss. - "Marking up your boy, mamí?"

You moaned around his cock and the vibrations sent a warm shiver down his spine and he felt his cock twitch.

"You need to stop, or I'm gonna fucking cum." - he said as he pulled on your hair a little.

You let him slip out of your mouth and you licked your lips then wiped the rest of the drool off your mouth with your hand.

"Would that be so bad?" - you asked, but you let him pull you up to straddle his lap again.

Miguel kissed you hard and hungry, and tasting his precum on your tongue made him growl lowly.

"Wanna cum while I'm buried in you as deep as possible." - he said between kisses and you felt him caress your pussy with his fingers before he slipped two of them inside.

You moaned and gripped his shoulders hard until he felt your sharp nails leave a trail as they slipped down to his chest.

While he prepped you again, he kicked off his shoes, socks, pants and boxer briefs fully, then he pulled away from the kiss and looked deep in your eyes.

"You gotta take another finger. I won't fuck you until you can."

You nodded impatiently and kept looking in his deep red eyes as he tried to push the third one in.

"You're so wet, chica. Did you like to suck my cock?" - he teased with a small smirk.

You nodded again, unable to form a coherent sentence between your whines. You saw his eyes take in all of your face and expressions as his third finger joined the other two. You felt so full already, you really weren't sure how his veiny cock will fit.

"You're so beautiful like this. So beautiful..." - he said as he kissed you then his lips travelled lower to your jaw and neck as he kept fucking you slowly to make your walls ease up around his fingers. - "I almost feel bad for how much you're going to struggle to take all of me."

You shuddered in his arms and Miguel laughed breathlessly as he kissed your lips again. He felt you move your hips harder to ride his fingers. He knew you loved it when he talked dirty to you and he knew this was the key to make you needy and desperate to take his cock.

"But you're gonna be a good girl and try, yeah?"

You nodded against his mouth as you kept moving, pushing your chest flush against his. You felt so soft against his hard body, he loved how you fit perfectly in his arms, and how much you clinged to him during the whole night. He wished you were like this all the time.

You were so wet that your juices were dripping down his hand and wrist, making a mess on his thighs and his hard cock.

"Do you want me?" - he asked when he felt you became more desperate with your moves.

"Yes, please, Miggy!" - you pleaded. You were getting close to cumming again, but you wanted his cock. You wanted to feel it inside.

"Be a doll and get the condom from my pocket." - he said as he began to help you lean down to his pants on the floor, but you cupped his face with one hand.

"We don't have to use it, if you don't want to." - you panted when you remembered that phone sex when he said he liked to imagine breeding you.

Miguel frowned a little confused so you explained.

"You said you only ever did it with a condom. And I'm on the pills. I didn't have sex for a long time now, but I'm taking them, cause they help to balance my period so it doesn't come too early or too late. So... if you trust me... and you wanna know how it feels to..."

Before you could finish your sentence, his mouth was on yours, kissing you so hard you thought he's gonna devour you. His fingers slipped out from you and as he pulled your hips even closer with his other hand, soon you felt his fat tip at your entrance. You moved your pussy back and forth on it to make it wet, then Miguel pulled away.

"I think you should stay on top so you can control the tempo." - he panted and you nodded eagerly as you lowered yourself down.

Both of your brows furrowed together when his tip slipped inside. You felt him grip your hips hard to make you stop.

Oh, your pussy felt so warm and soft like this. He was so glad there weren't any barrier between you.

"Ah, fuck!" - he cursed. - "Keep going. Keep fucking going." - he groaned an you lowered yourself more, until more than half of him was inside. - "Fuck, chica, your pussy feels so good. So fucking good." - he sensed you reached your limit, so he helped you move up, then down again.

"You're so fucking big, Miggy. Holy shit, you're so deep..." - you whispered shakily.

You felt so full. He was stretching your walls more and more as he slipped in deeper, yet you didn't want him to stop. You wanted him deeper and deeper until you felt him in your very core.

"Just a little more, muneca." - he left small kisses all over your face as you lifted yourself up but sank lower and lower everytime you moved, until it felt like he was in your womb. - "That's it, amor, that's it, so good for me." - he whispered and wrapped his arms around your waist tightly to hold you close to him, until you adjust to his size.

You rested your cheek on his shoulder, pushing your face into his neck and you kissed his skin there. Miguel smiled when he felt your hips move a little back and forth, experimently, and you both moaned a little when your pussy squeezed him.

"Oh my god, more." - you lifted your head and gripped his shoulders again for leverage and Miguel chuckled.

"Come on, chica, show me what you got." - he teased.

You felt him help you move up and down on him. He was squeezing you hard against him so your chests were touching and the only thing that was better than your soft breasts pushed against his hard pecs was the wonderful feeling of your velvety walls hugging his hard cock. He never wanted to use condoms again. It didn't just feel better, but more intimate and he was glad he was experiencing this with you for the first time.

"Hmm, look at you. Taking my cock so well." - he murmured as he kissed and licked your throat while his hands slipped to your ass to squeeze your cheeks hard.

You shuddered in his arms as you felt a new wave of pleasure ran through you and you started riding him harder. You pushed on his chest again and he leaned back on the couch, licking his lips as he watched you fucking yourself on his cock. He started bucking his hips up, mimicking your tempo and he smirked when you threw your head back as a loud moan escaped you.

"Fuck, Miggy! You're so fucking deep. I'm gonna cum!" - you warned between pathetic cries.

"Already, chica? Thought you were hard to please." - he teased, but he was close too.

He tried to concentrate on something else than how beautiful you looked on top of him, how your skin glowed a little from the thin layer of sweat that covered it. How your nipples were so erect because you were so aroused and how sexy you sounded because you were about to cum all over his cock.

He didn't want to think about that this was the only night when he can see you like this. He didn't want to think about that you didn't want him.

Because you wanted him.

He could see it in your eyes in the restaurant when he held your hand. He could see it when he kissed you so innocently for the first time in front of all those people. He could see it when you refused to hold his hand but still wrapped yourself around his arm so you could be close to him. He could see how happy you were in the observatory. How close you slid to him in the taxi on the way here.

He refused to accept that this was the only night you'll give him. He wanted more. He wanted every night. With you.

He reached up with one hand to caress your breast and collarbone, then he wrapped his hand around your throat lightly. He heard you moan and felt you move your hips even wilder.

"Look at me."

You opened your eyes and looked down at him. Your bodies moved in a passionate sync, and you felt your orgasm just out of reach.

"No one was this deep inside you, right, chica?"

You could only shook your head, because you didn't trust yourself that you could speak and breath at the same time. You already felt fucked out and you didn't even came on his cock yet. There was a sensitive spot deep inside you that you didn't even know existed, but he found it. His tip was prodding it everytime he bucked his hips up, and you tired to roll your hips deeply into his to feel it more, more, more.

"How does it feel to belong to me, huh? How does it feel to be claimed by me?"

You felt a new wave of arousal ooze out of you at his words and your eyes welled up with tears as you pussy fluttered. You held his gaze and you weren't sure what you saw in his eyes, but you were sure your own expression mirrored it. Why did it feel so good when he fucked you? Why did it feel so good when he kissed you? When he held your hand? When he talked about belonging to him?

Before you could came up with an answer, your orgasm hit you so hard that it felt like a bomb blew up inside you. You cried out with every wave that shook through you and you heard Miguel curse lowly. Your didn't even know if it was in English or Spanish because you were too focused on the pleasure that made your body fell like all the bones disappeared and you collapsed on top of him. Then suddenly you were pushed on the couch, rolled your stomach and you felt Miguel thrust into you again, hard. You grabbed the cushion, squeezing it hard, and you pushed your face into it to try to muffle your screams as Miguel fucked you so hard, you though he wanted to melt your bodies together.

You felt in his thrusts that he became more desperate and as he neared his own peak, he became louder and louder and it made you push back against him desperately. You wanted him to fill you up until your womb can't take it.

And when you felt him start to empty himself in you with deep, rough thrusts was the second when another mind blowing orgasm rocked through you. You only noticed he bit down on your neck, when he pulled back and licked the spot lazily, before he collapsed on top of you, like a ragdoll.

He was heavy, but feeling his soft skin, hot breath and hard heartbeat against your back was a welcomed peace after the earth shattering orgams that left your body in a shaking, twitching mess.

You were both kneeling on the couch, with you leaning against the backrest and Miguel leaning against you. His hands slid from your hips to your stomach and he wrapped his arms around you lightly, letting you breath freely. That, and he felt like with all the cum that he pumped into you, his soul and all the energy he had left him too.

Shit, he truly never wanted to use condoms ever again. And he never wanted to have sex with anyone else ever again. It felt too perfect for him to just forget about it, like you previously asked him.

'One date, one night. We're getting this out of our system. Whatever it is.'

These were your words.

Well, whatever it was, it definitely didn't leave his system with all the other things during his orgasm. Moreover, right now he felt like it intensified.

He lifted his head from your shoulderblade and saw your face was still buried in the cushion so he turned your head to the side by caressing your scalp. When you felt fresh air hit your lungs, you took in a deep breath, then wiped the tears away from your cheeks, but then more welled up in your eyes and they escaped freely from between your lashes.

Miguel lifted you upper body up with his and he grabbed your jaw to turn your head back more so he can kiss your soft lips that became swollen from all the other kisses you shared during the passionate night.

He pulled away when he felt you sigh, and he wiped your cheeks gently, while you kept looking at each other with hooded eyes, panting softly.

"Good?" - he whispered.

You reached back with one hand to run your fingers through his hair, scraping his scalp gently.

"Good." - you whispered back softly, and he leaned down again.

You never wanted this kiss to end. This moment was so perfect, him and you, still connected, satisfied, but still needing the other. But it was okay because you were there for each other. This was your perfect little moment in space and time where everything was good and you were happy.

You whimpered when you felt him pull his hips back.

"I know." - he murmured, but he kept moving and eventually he slipped out.

You felt his cum drip out of you, down your inner things and towards your knees.

"Look at you, wasting all of it."

You let out a tired chuckle, but gasped a little when you felt his fingers gather them up on one of your legs, then slowly pushing them back inside you.

"Miguel." - you sighed and you moved forward again to lean against the backrest, while pushing your ass out, curving your back.

"Still so needy. What should I do with you, huh?"

You moaned lowly when he started fingering you. You didn't think you left anymore orgasm in you, but when be gently caressed your ass with his other hand, you felt your walls squeeze around his fingers.

"That's it, chica. One more for papi."

He was going slow, not wanting to abuse your sensitive little pussy more, but you were still so needy he could fuck another, smaller orgasm out of you in a just a minute.

You leaned back against him as you grabbed his wrist.

"No more." - you sighed, exhausted.

Miguel chuckled and kissed the side of your head as he turned you and gathered you up in his arms.

"Bed?"

"Bed." - you replied as you closed your eyes.

You felt him lift you up and he slowly walked to your room. The last thing you remember was that he carefully placed you on your bed and pulled the blanket over you before you fall into a deep sleep.

#miguel o'hara x reader

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