#(albeit with some cast changes) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gogobootz1 · 10 months

Text

The Mentor pt. 2

Finnick Odair x Reader

Summary: Your mentoring tasks persist as you and the newly crowned victor tackle a Capitol party- with some help.

part one | part three

"So you’re stealing from me now?”

You jump at the sudden sound of the voice behind you. Luckily, none of your champagne spills.

“Pardon?” You look over your shoulder, only to see a pretty face coming your way.

“Intellectual theft is serious, you know,” Finnick says with faux sincerity, and takes a sip of his own champagne.

You lazily roll your eyes, “Please, one of my cows could have come up with the momma-bear angle.” You pick at your nails again, gaze drifting back to where District Ten’s Capitol escort parades Darla around. Before the group of you had even arrived, she’d forbidden you from sticking by Darla’s side the whole night. Said the president wanted people to get to know her- which made you reluctant to separate from the girl you’d taken under your wing.

You’d settled for watching her like a hawk, prepared to intervene if you recognized any bad apples.

"Blue suits you, by the way," he starts, and you cast him a suspicious sidelong glance. "Much better than brown, or so I'd assume." You prickle with embarrassment, catching the reference to what he'd overheard the other night.

You cross your arms, "Don't be a jerk." The words sound sad rather than snippy- like you intended them to.

"I was trying to compliment you," he insists. "Really, you look quite nice. This is a far cry from your outfit the other night." Your pajamas. They were the closest thing in reach when you were paged to the recording studio during Darla's breakdown. The reminder makes you shift awkwardly, suddenly even more uncomfortable.

"How kind of you," you say flatly, smoothing the non-existent wrinkles of the dress your stylist had placed you in. At least this interaction is slightly less mortifying than the one, or two you suppose, you had with him the other night.

Finnick doesn't respond, and you don't bother looking at his face to gauge his reaction. Instead, you find Darla in the crowd and start picking at the skin around your nails again. She seems okay for now, but it doesn't do much to ease your worry.

”You seem nervous,” Finnick says, without his former mirth. You startle again, assuming he'd walked away.

“Do I?” You briefly let your gaze flick up to him, eyes wide, before turning right back to your task.

“Well, at the rate you’re going, your hands will be bone within the hour,” he lightly grabs your wrist, drawing your attention to the blood (both fresh and dried) that sits on your cuticles. "Have you been at this all night?"

“Thanks for your concern,” you snatch your hand back, trying to shield it from his gaze. It takes you a second to spot Darla again, and when you do your shoulders drop in relief.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he doubles down.

“Did you ask one?” You bite back.

“What are you nervous about?” He asks.

You turn fully toward him, “What do you think?” You extend an arm out, gesturing to where Darla is.

Finnick follows your gesture to spot Darla being dragged around. He huffs, "She'll be alright, you know. Like us."

"Speak for yourself," you laugh, but it's a hollow sound.

His face falls, "You know what I mean."

"I do, but I don't like it," you snap sourly. Closing your eyes, you take a deep, albeit shaky, breath. When you open them, you face the front again. "The way I feel all the time," you shake your head slowly, "I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Let alone Darla, so if I can- if I can just keep her close enough, I can spare her from some of this."

He quietly says your name, almost like a warning.

"No!" You cut him off, "No, I know how I sound. I can do it." The look in his eye says he's not buying it, but you double down, "I have to. I have to... try." Your voice breaks a little, but there's no time to be embarrassed over it when a different voice calls out your name.

Finnick watches as you pull yourself together. The change is visible. It's almost like you're a new person, the one the Capitol adores. Sweet and pristine, bloody hands hidden neatly behind your back.

"I wanted to thank you for coming in this week. The kids love your visits," the middle-aged woman says, smiling at you. Her attire is far less ostentatious than her fellow partygoers, but she's clearly Capitol-born and bred. Her gaze shifts to Finnick, and he stiffens, recognizing the look in her eye.

It seems you notice it, too, as you're quick to intervene. "It's my pleasure, Mrs. Montgomery," he almost cringes when he recognizes the name you call her. "If I could, I'd come often enough that they'd be sick of me." You're good at this, though, he notes, grateful for being off the hot seat. Quick and clever, just like in your games.

"Impossible!" The Capitolite laughs, "In fact, they're already asking me when you'll be back. When are you free?"

While your facade is impressive, it's not perfect. He sees you tense before replying, pleasant as ever, "I'm actually heading home soon, but I'll let you know when I'm back." It's enough to appease Mrs. Montgomery, at least. She eyes the buffet table.

"Please do! I'll see you soon, love," she waves as she walks away. You wave back, picture-perfect smile lighting up your features.

It drops as soon as she turns, and he does his best not to laugh at the contrast. "If that's who I think it is, I hate her husband," Finnick tells you.

You echo the sentiment with a scoff, "Me too."

"I thought you were sweet to everyone but me," he turns toward you in surprise, and you shrug. "Here I was thinking I was special," he shakes his head in faux sadness.

A small grin emerges on your face at his antics, though it's clear you're trying to hide it. He spots it, however, and smiles a bit, basking in his victory. Suddenly, your poorly concealed grin drops, and he follows your gaze to see who stole the humorous moment you'd been sharing.

Darla, of course, but someone else is with her. A large man, probably a few inches taller than Finnick, towers over the sixteen-year-old. She looks terribly uncomfortable, and the District Ten escort is missing from her side. When his eyes flick back to you, he finds your expression mirrors Darla's. It's worse, even, and far worse than when Mrs. Montgomery came around.

You turn to face him, eyes wet and blown with fear. He's never seen you look so vulnerable, not on TV and not in your limited interactions. You looked worried the other night, sure, but this is different. This is a look of terror.

"Dance with her," you practically beg, suddenly grabbing his forearm. Your voice trembles, "Please. They'll- I can't take her away. Please just go dance with her." Tears threaten to spill over, and you get more upset as you go on.

Finnick's reluctant to leave you so distraught, but he's sure that whisking Darla away from whoever this is is the only way to assuage your worry. "Of course," he nods, ducking his head a bit to be on eye level with you. His hand covers yours, subtly removing himself from your grasp so he can attend to your request. "Keep an eye on us, okay? It'll be fine."

He holds your gaze for a bit as he departs, but he can feel your eyes on him even after that. Quickly, he comes upon Darla and the large man that you apparently know and abhor enough to ask him this favor. He spews some of the charming bullshit everyone in the city eats right up and steals Darla away without issue.

Finnick looks back to where he left you as he leads her onto the dancefloor, hoping that seeing Darla safe will ease your panic. He's caught in the act, though, "Sent by my guardian angel, then?" The teenager asks him, pulling his attention back to the dance floor.

"How'd you know?" His eyebrows knit together, and the girl laughs.

"She's been watching me from the same spot all night. It's kind of creepy," she jokes.

"I think she's just worried," Finnick says defensively.

"I think if she stays there for much longer, they'll install her as a statue," Darla quips. It's funny, but he fails to chuckle since he wouldn't put it past the people here. She sort of cringes, realizing the joke didn't land. "I'm really grateful for her, don't get me wrong," Darla tries, "it's just- sometimes I wonder about her."

"How so?"

Darla inhales, "I don't know. She disappears and just seems... different when she comes back. And I swear she lies about where she goes since there's never any press coverage, but cameras constantly follow her." His face falls as Darla goes on, "Sometimes when she sees random people, she instantly clams up."

It's a little too familiar to him. Paired with your reaction to both his comment about Mr. Montgomery and seeing that man with Darla, he's starting to understand. Maybe he has more in common with you than he'd originally thought.

"Finnick?" Darla says, and he realizes he's left her in silence for too long.

"I was gonna say I wonder about her too, but I was thinking more- favorite food, favorite color," he tries to lighten the mood.

Darla looks pleased as punch, "Well when it comes to you, I have her pinned."

"Yeah?" Finnick asks, amused.

"Yeah," Darla nods, "she’s clearly head over heels for you.”

His eyes nearly bug out of his head, “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, no, she’s totally in love with you,” she reaffirms.

“Are we thinking of the same person?” He asks, extremely skeptical.

“Yes!” Darla insists, lightly slapping the side of his head.

“Well, it just seems like she doesn’t like me,” he defends himself.

“You make her nervous,” Darla affirms. “She’d make a fool of herself if she wasn’t being rude. She told me the other night, this is a quote by the way, 'he's so gorgeous, I can't say anything to his face.'"

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” she pops the P.

“I struggle to believe that Capitol’s loveliest victor won’t talk to me because she thinks I’m pretty,” he scoffs.

“It’s more than that,” Darla chides, “she thinks you’re too good for her, so before you can reject her, she tries to beat you to the punch.”

“And when exactly did she tell you all this?” He asks skeptically.

“Oh, we had a sleepover the other night and got super drunk. Boy, was she an open vault,” Darla laughs, but it's clear to him you'd kept some secrets to yourself.

“And you don’t feel bad telling me?” He inquires skeptically.

“Please, I’m helping her help herself.” She scoffs, “She’d pine over you until her dying day without ever saying a word.”

“Whatever you say, kiddo,” he says. Finnick's not sure how reliable a source the teenager is, so he decides to refocus on his original goal. "I meant to ask if you were ok, by the way. You know that guy?”

Darla’s face sours. “No clue. But let’s just say I was glad for the interruption.”

He raises a brow, hoping she’ll elaborate.

“I felt like he was … looking at me,” she huffs. “Like, trying to see below the dress.” Finnick's jaw clenches at that. He knows the type. He deals with the type. And now he's almost certain you do too, hence your big reaction.

"Well, if he bothers you again, just come find me. I'm quite comfortable on the dance floor," he tells her as the song comes to an end.

Darla pats his bicep, "Thanks, but you should really be getting comfortable with someone else." She nods her toward where you'd been standing. "The bar will take good care of me." She only gets a few paces before he calls out after her.

“Hey!” She turns to catch his words. “Moderation,” he points at her, emphasizing the word.

She smirks, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Dad.” A smile twitches at his lip, and he shakes his head as he turns to find you.

When Finnick finally circles back to where he'd left you, you're nowhere in sight. He sighs, disappointed, though he can't quite blame you when you've revealed more about yourself tonight than you probably intended.

He wonders if you've left the party or just found a better observation spot, but either way, something tells him you don't want to be found right now. He remembers something you said earlier about shielding Darla. You seem to be doing alright so far, but he's suddenly wondering how far you'll go.

———————————————————

Once again- super unedited. I'm just having fun on my holiday break at this point. I feel like this leaned kinda sad? So... sorry for that. <3

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #finnick x reader #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games #the hunger games

714 notes · View notes

jessejaredstories · 10 months

Text

Type Casting

“C’mon, let’s just give it one more go!”

“I don’t want to…”

Robert was slumped against the wall with his head in between his knees. His friend Aidan was looking down at him. Aidan let out a heavy sigh, then bent down to meet Rob at eye level.

“Listen man, I’m trying to help you out here but you’re making it really difficult.” Aidan tried to make eye contact with Rob, but he turned the other way. “What was that thing you used to say? The best actors can turn themselves into anyone they want? What happened to that energy?”

“Let’s be honest, I was just lying to myself. Even I didn’t believe that bullshit.” Rob said muffled through his hands. He then let himself fall over onto the ground, much to Aidan’s growing annoyance. While Rob was laying on the asphalt, he looked up to the sky above. The dark of night had just settled in and the first few stars had just come out.

Ever since he was a kid, Robert dreamed of being a big time Hollywood actor. He always imagined himself up on the silver screen whenever he went to the movies. Although Rob had spent most of his childhood and adolescence performing for local theater groups, he unfortunately never made it into the big leagues. He had all but given up on his childhood dream and settled for a life working in retail.

However, just as Rob was getting comfortable living an ordinary life, everything changed one fateful day when an acting agent walked into the store. The agent was in desperate need of an actor for an upcoming commercial shoot after the previous guy dropped last minute. Rob just so happened to be on the clock that day. They had a conversation, one thing led to another and next thing you knew, Rob got the part. It was a minor acting gig with only two lines, but it was enough to reignite the passion Rob had for acting. So much so that he decided to quit his day job and pursue acting full time.

But unfortunately for Rob, his good luck started as well as ended on that fateful day. He hasn’t been able to land another acting job despite having gone on numerous auditions. While Rob was already on the verge of giving up again, his best friend Aidan was still holding out hope for him.

“Bro, c’mon, they’re looking for a Filipino dude and you’re the only one auditioning. How could they not cast you?” Aidan said.

“It’s really not that simple… I can’t just be type casted into a role because of my race. They’re looking for a gym bro kinda guy, and I’ve seen cats with more upper body muscle than me. I don’t even look the part, much less act it. It’s hopeless!” Rob sighed and rolled over. They both lingered in silence for a minute.

“You know, maybe we should just call it a night. You’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep,” Aidan said.

“I doubt it, not unless I can somehow become a gym bro overnight.”

“Stranger things have happened, you know…”

Rob was expecting Aidan to dismiss what he just said, not go along with it. He was only kidding after all! But Rob decided not to think twice about it and just laugh it off.

Robert went to bed that night restless and miserable. Normally he had no problem falling asleep, but for some reason, he just couldn’t sleep that night. Rob was eventually able to fall asleep after enough twisting and turning, but he was plagued by strange dreams. He kept dreaming about some muscular guy entering his bedroom while he slept. The dream was extremely lifelike, Rob felt he could reach out and get a feel of the dude’s jacked bicep!

Rob tried to touch him, but when he reached out, he found himself awake in his bed. Rob blinked and rubbed his eyes as he looked around his empty room. It was just a dream, nothing more and nothing less. Rob nodded off again. As he slept peacefully, the same muscle bro came back in his dreams, albeit in a very different way the second time around.

In the dream, Rob was still just laying down sleeping in his bed. He tried moving his body, but couldn’t. His body was in a deep sleep, and all Rob could do was watch himself sleep.

At first, the dream was nothing more than him sleeping. After a couple of minutes passed, the muscular man made a reappearance. He crept back into Rob’s bedroom, except he was fully naked this time! Rob was caught off guard, but quickly found himself enjoying the view. The man was clean shaven all over his body except for three places: his thick mustache, his hairy pits, and his unruly bush of pubic hair. Rob loved the glorious sight of masculine, well-kept yet hairy man standing in his bedroom. He knew intuitively that the man’s name was Jacob. He watched as Jacob approached him on the bed. He also noticed that the dream version of himself had woken up and had begun stripping down naked. Jacob then hopped on the bed with him, placing himself in between Dream Rob’s open legs. Jacob was stroking himself while Dream Rob was feeling around his well-toned torso. He cupped one of Jacob’s pecs and felt how firm the slabs of meat on his chest were. Jacob had a cocky grin on his face as Rob worshiped him. He then bounced his pecs for Rob, which made him whimper from pleasure.

Even though it was a dream, everything Rob was feeling felt just like real life. He could feel Jacob rubbing his hardening cock against his own dick, which made him get erect too. Rob felt Jacob’s thick bush brush up against the underside of his thighs as he thrusted his hips into him while jerking off. Soft, sensual moans escaped Rob’s lips, matching Jacob’s gruff, baritone groans. Once they were both at full mast, Jacob moved onto the next step of their little “play session.”

Jacob moved up closer to Rob. He grabbed his rock hard cock and positioned it right next to Rob’s. Rob was stunned at how hung Jacob was. He had both length and girth to his junk, and with a big, pink tip too! Jacob then put their dicks together in one hand and jerked them both off. Rob let out a loud moan as Jacob pumped away at both of their cocks. Jacob’s hand had a rough feel to it, most likely due to calluses from working out. Rob also noticed how warm his hand was, which added to the warm pleasure Rob was feeling as Jacob jerked them off. It was the best feeling Rob had felt in a long while.

Precum soon began leaking from the tips of their cocks. Jacob noticed his leakage and shuffled away slightly to reposition himself. Rob was purring with anticipation. He was expecting him to put it in, but instead he got something he could’ve never guessed. Rob started stroking himself off at a rapid pace and with bated breath. Rob assumed he was about to finish, but that guess was wrong too. Instead, Jacob’s cock started growing even longer and wider. Jacob then closed the gap between them again. He hovered his cock over Rob’s junk and lowered it. Jacob’s cock then engulfed Rob’s entire dick and balls area. Rob winced. He felt a pinch when he got swallowed up by Jacob’s engorged member. Jacob’s dick was throbbing. The vein running from the base to the tip was pulsating. Rob could feel Jacob twitching due to their dicks being conjoined. Only a few more seconds before Jacob let out a primal moan from deep within. Rob had no idea what was happening, but unfortunately had no time to react.

“Ahhh… Ah!? Arghh FUCKK!!” Rob moaned. He could feel the warmth of Jacob shooting out ropes of cum. However, because his cock was inside of Jacob’s, his loads had nowhere to go except inside of Rob’s dick. Rob was squirming as he felt all of Jacob’s spunk rush through the slit of his cockhead and down the length of his member. Jacob kept shooting out load after load and all of it was getting pumped straight into Rob’s balls. Rob’s cock and balls grew thicker and heavier as a result of getting filled up. He had become hung like a horse, sporting a cool 7 inch cock with some hefty girth to match its length too. Jacob’s seed had overwhelmed Rob’s reproductive system, forcing it to produce Jacob’s DNA rather than Rob’s. All of the testosterone filled cum Jacob had pumped into Rob began transforming the lower half of his body.

The body transformation was as pleasurable as it was intense. Waves of ecstasy-like warmth spread throughout Rob’s legs and thighs as they grew exponentially bigger, forcing Rob to throw his head and moan as it all happened. The lower half of his body essentially exploded with mass. Once they finished growing, Rob’s body immediately shaped the extra mass into chiseled, muscular legs that looked just like Jacob’s.

Rob felt like his body was on fire after the explosive growth his legs went through! He was huffing and puffing for breath after that bodily experience. Rob was thankful that no more cum was getting pumped into him. It seemed like Jacob had finally been drained of every last drop. However, although his balls might’ve run dry, Jacob knew of another way to keep the transformation fun going.

Jacob let Rob’s dick wiggle out of his own. Once they were detached, his engorged cock shrunk back down to its usual size. Jacob then positioned Rob to sit up against the headboard of his bed. He then hopped on top of him, placing him in between his beefy legs. Rob was now at eye level with Jacob’s massive chest.

Rob salivated being so close to Jacob’s beefy pecs. He reached out and grabbed his left nipple with thumb and forefinger. He felt the few hairs surrounding the nipple tickling against his fingers as he gave him a light squeeze, causing Jacob to groan with delight. Rob then leaned in and planted his lips against Jacob’s succulent nipple. Rob could taste the salt of a few sweat drops as he used his tongue to flick his nipple around in his mouth. The thought of suckling a man’s juicy pecs made Rob get hard again, encouraging him to give Jacob the best service his mouth could offer.

Jacob was breathing heavily as Rob sucked off his sensitive nipples. He began running his fingers through Rob’s hair while Rob went to work. While they were both having the time of their lives, this only lasted a few minutes before Jacob decided to switch things up again. He grabbed hold of Rob’s head and pressed him against his pec. Rob didn’t think twice about Jacob’s sudden dominance; he simply assumed he wanted him to suck even harder. He proceeded to suck and lick and bite as pleasurably as he could. Meanwhile, Jacob was using his free hand to rub down his pectoral muscles. He started squeezing at the top of his chest and ran his hand down to the nipple, stimulating his pecs until they started lactating.

“Mmmm… Mmmrrngh? Mmmmm…!!”

Rob noticed there was a sudden new taste in his mouth. However, it was a sweet, slightly milky taste that he quickly grew addicted to. It didn’t deter him from sucking Jacob’s chest, it only encouraged him to go even harder. Rob drank it all like a starving kitten while Jacob was in a world of heaven due to the combined sensations of lactating and having a man’s warm mouth sucking down on his nipple.

Rob struggled to swallow all the milk. Some of it leaked out and ran down Rob’s mouth, causing an even wetter mess than before, but Rob kept at it. Jacob’s pec milk was the key to the second half of the transformation. The more of the sweet, sweet pec milk Rob drank, the stronger he was becoming. His torso began swelling up with muscle mass just like his legs did. His arms grew until he had two cannons with melon-sized biceps. His shoulders and back grew wider and chiseled. His pecs ballooned out but stayed firm with muscle, giving him a set of man tits that would put anyone to shame with their voluptuous size. By the time Jacob’s chest had finally run dry, Rob had been completely transformed into a beefy bodybuilder just like him.

Rob leaned back from Jacob’s now swollen chest and swallowed the last few drops of milk he managed to suckle out. Once he swallowed, he let out a satisfied exhale and a loud burp. He then looked at Jacob with pleading eyes, the same eyes you would see on any submissive bottom eager to please. Jacob looked down to match Rob’s gaze, then grinned. He leaned down and gave Rob a big, fat kiss on the lips. Rob kissed him back too. He then opened his mouth slightly to let Jacob stick his tongue inside his mouth. Their tongues danced together in Rob’s mouth with Jacob’s tongue taking the dominant role. They then locked lips together for one last triumphant tongue kiss. Once Jacob pulled away, Rob noticed some course hair touching his upper lip. He reached out to touch his lip and with one stroke of the finger, he realized what had happened. Jacob had bestowed upon him the finishing touch of his transformation- his thick mustache befitting of a muscle daddy like the new him.

Robert woke up in an incredibly great mood the next morning. He laid in bed with a wide smile on his face as he fondly replayed the weird yet awesome wet dream he had last night. Although he would always have the memory, he hoped the dreamy muscle man would visit him again sometime in the future.

Rob noticed his body felt heavier as he laid in bed. He took a look down at himself, then smirked. It was the kind of cocky smirk any guy with a great body would have. He was hot and he knew it!

He jumped out of bed with glee and ran to the nearest mirror to check himself out. Surely enough, his reflection in the mirror matched the same beefy cupcake his own eyes showed him. Rob almost couldn’t believe he had actually transformed overnight. He had so many questions running through his mind, but standing in front of the mirror, all he could think about was how hot his new body had become.

“Fuck yeah! I’m ripped as fuckk!!”

While Rob was busy admiring his new self in the mirror, someone had been knocking on the door. Rob didn’t even notice someone was knocking. As a result, their knocks had evolved to them pounding on the door. The pounding was enough to finally get Rob’s attention. Annoyed, Rob pulled himself away from the mirror and hurried to the door. He opened it to an equally annoyed Aidan waiting on the other side.

“Where the fuck have you- Woah.” Aidan stepped into Rob’s apartment ready to chew him out but stopped after taking one look at the new him. He almost didn’t recognize him due to his new muscular physique. He had to look closely at his face just to recognize him. “Rob? Is that you!? Holy shit!!”

“I know right! Check me out bro, you like my new look?” Rob flexed his bicep for Aidan while he hyped him up. Though Aidan was happy for his friend, he remembered the reason why he came by in the first place.

“I don’t know how the fuck you managed to go super saiyan on me overnight, but we don’t have time for this right now. Your audition’s in an hour and it’s all the way across town!”

“Oh fuck!! I completely forgot about that, let’s GO!”

Rob quickly threw some clothes on and ran out the door with Aidan by his side. They barreled down the highways at dangerously high speeds, driving as fast as Rob’s car could manage. They were able to make it to the rec center where auditions were being held just in the nick of time. Rob ran into the waiting lobby just as the producer called out his name.

“Alright bro… You got this… Break… A leg!” Aidan said in between huffs, fighting to catch his breath after sprinting from the parking lot. Rob nodded and followed the producer into the backroom.

“Welcome, Robert, please feel free to take a minute to catch your breath. I know you had to run to get here on time, what happened?” the producer asked as she took a seat next to the director.

“Nothing, just traffic. You know how it gets in this city,” Rob responded.

“I see. Well then, feel free to start whenever you’re ready.”

“Actually, before I start, is it alright if I do a little improv? I have the sides down but I wanted to add my own little flair to the scene.”

“Do as you must, just be sure to show us your best performance.” The director answered with a bored inflection in her voice.

Rob nodded, then proceeded to perform the sides for the audition. He had the sides perfectly memorized, and he followed the script’s exact punctuation down to the comma too. Rob didn’t stray far from the script for the most part, but for his rendition of the scene, he decided to take out his shirt and play the character as an aloof himbo rather than just an arrogant jock.

Once he finished performing, Rob looked up to see their faces. The producer looked irritated, while the director still had the same poker face she had when Rob first entered the room.

“Well! Thank you for your time, Robert, we’ll let you know if-”

“No need,” the director waved her hand to stop the producer. “After seeing over 20 auditions today, I can say with confidence that you’re the best fit for the role. Congratulations Robert, you got the part.”

Rob was bursting with joy. He shook the director’s hand with an over enthusiastic vigor and a wide grin on his face. He then walked out to share the great news with Aidan, who was just as excited as he was. He had done it; he had landed a role in a major Hollywood production as the main character’s meathead yet lovable brother.

Epilogue

Several months have passed since Rob finished filming his last major role. His newly acquired looks granted him the confidence he needed to perform at his best. Coupled with his eagerness and passion for acting, Rob had become the total package, and other big names in the film industry agreed too. Word had gotten out on how Rob was set to become a rising star. A couple of directors had even scouted him for their upcoming projects! All in all, Rob was enjoying the new life he was only just starting to build up for himself as an actor.

However, there was one slight problem. Rob and Aidan’s friendship had taken a turn for the worse lately. While Aidan was happy for his buddy’s success and Rob was more than happy to share some of the Hollywood glamor with his best friend, the two had begun bickering a lot.

It started back when Rob first transformed into the beefy bodybuilder he was now. Rob was slowly becoming more and more arrogant ever since then. Aidan didn’t notice at first, but it was becoming more obvious with every passing day. Every other sentence Rob said had the word “bro” shoved into it. That, and if it didn’t involve his acting career, going to the gym, partying, or fucking hot dudes, then Rob simply had no time or patience for it. Even Aidan, his best friend since primary school, had been shoved into the sidelines! Rob had become the epitome of a selfish, gym rat narcissistic.

But Aidan was never the type to simply roll over and give up. He would sooner die than let his best friend go without a fight. So he decided to try and get the old Rob back, much to his dismay.

Rob was in the middle of getting ready to go out clubbing with his other actor friends. While getting dressed, he decided to take a moment to admire himself in the mirror. He made sure to keep up with the maintenance a hot, muscular body like his needed in order to be maintained. He was proud of his physique, and it was then he decided he was gonna find another hot guy to fuck all night long. It had been too long since he last got off after all, his balls were already hanging low with how full they were! All he needed was someone to drain him of his load.

As Rob was recording a new thirst trap to send out on dating apps, he got an incoming video call from Aidan. Rob grunted and declined the call. Annoyed, he threw his phone off to the side. But just as he was about to resume getting ready when he felt something strange in his chest. He looked down and bounced his pecs again. Rob noticed that it took him more effort than usual to flex his pectoral muscles. He grabbed one of his pecs, gave it a squeeze and when he did, he felt like something was about to leak out of his nipple. Something… Like milk.

Aidan called again. Rob turned to look at his phone ringing on the bed. He then looked back down at his body. It was then a brilliant idea had hit him. Rob and Aidan were going to be the best of friends again after he was done.

#male transformation

632 notes · View notes

gfmima · 9 months

Text

c. 文豪ストレイドッグス BEAST | bsd BEAST + f!reader t. how he deals with you when you’re jealous

akutagawa leans back in his armchair, the room immersed in a soft, amber hue from the floor lamp; thin fingers trace over the spine of the novel in his hand, absentmindedly feeling the embossed letters under his touch. the normally stern expression on his face bore a hint of frustration as he sent a covert glance in your direction.

the tension in the air was unmistakable — plain to see, hard to dismiss — an unspoken rift between the two of you. what did he do? he asked for tea, a roundabout way of extending an olive branch.

alas, what he got was your wordless indifference, a pointed silence that stretched like an invisible barrier.

he can’t help but recall the catalyst for your weird behavior. honestly, he can’t fathom what you wanted him to do? what you wanted from him? in his mind, you were acting without reason.

at the end of the day, he was in a relationship with you. why must he assuage your concerns about higuchi’s foolish infatuation with him when it had been set in stone he loves you, not her? he can admit he could’ve handled it better for your sake, however, what had been said was said and there was no changing it.

now, as he sat there, he can’t deny that it did matter, even a teensy-weeny bit, and he had a gnawing feeling that he had underestimated the depth of your emotions.

these four walls closed in on him, slowly it compelled him to do something — hell, say anything! he let his stoicism to get the best of him, failing his duty as your boyfriend to be sensitive about the hurt he caused. a sigh escapes his lips…

“i said, can you brew me some tea?” akutagawa tried to ask once more, as he turns a page in his novel. though his gaze remains on the first line of dialogue, he didn’t digest a word; his mind wanders elsewhere.

“why don’t you ask your other girlfriend instead? she always looks very happy to help you.” and continue to work on your laptop screen.

your response, though expected, stung nonetheless. a slick retort delivered without even a glimpse towards him.

the air felt increasingly stifling as the silence persisted, only disturbed by the sound of your fingers on the keyboard. a growing sense of unease casts a shadow over him, he didn’t foresee this level of confrontation, especially from you of all people.

“exactly how long do you intend to behave this way?”

“i could ask you the same thing,” your reply catches him off guard, “how else do you expect me to behave? how would you feel if there was another man interested in me? and i do nothing to prevent it?”

the atmosphere grew colder and colder by the second as he contemplates. he struggles to articulate his feelings to you, his quietude serving as an admission of sorts.

“do you see why i’m upset, ryūnosuke?” your parting words landed on him like a sudden hit to the chest.

he grumbles, “you’re so annoying…”

akutagawa hooks his foot around your ankle, a tiny gesture for reconciliation, albeit a reluctant one. with arms crossed, he averts his gaze, the environment overwrought with unresolved emotions.

“wow, so i’m annoying, huh? you’re the one who can’t even acknowledge my feelings!” your tone drips with irritation as you finally look up to meet his eyes, and for a moment, you could see a hint of exasperation in his irises.

“use your brain — it’s not as if i asked her to like me!”

“but you could make it clear where your heart lies!”

the air fell into an uncomfortable silence yet again, neither one willing to yield. it was frustrating to be caught in a standoff with the man you love, but your jealousy had taken over and you weren’t about to let him off the hook so easily.

your boyfriend utters what you can assume to be a string of obscenities under his breath, as his shoulders collapse. “fine.” he concedes, “i’ll speak to her and make it clear that we’re very much together.”

you raise a brow.

you genuinely didn’t expect him to make the first move and relent. normally, you’d have to be the bigger person and let him have the last say, which often resulted in very late night talks with your friends.

“really? you will?”

he nods. “if that’s what it takes to end your childish worries, then so be it. i’ll tell her.”

the playful roll of your eyes couldn’t hide the way your heart swelled with affection for him. despite his gruff exterior, he cares about your feelings! you uncross your arms, reaching out to place your hand gently on his cheek.

“thank you, ryūnosuke.”

“HA, YOU’RE JEALOUS!” ranpo points a rather accusatory finger, reveling in the satisfaction of unraveling the mystery behind your peculiar behavior in recent days.

you struggle to find a response; your eyes narrow under the subdued lighting of the interrogation room where he cornered you. with every blink, the scene in front of you begins to develop: your dear boyfriend casually seated, his arms behind his head, and a triumphant smirk adorned his lips.

he meets your gaze with unmistakable pride.

“you’re delusional,” you scoff, your own arms crossed, and push yourself away to create a bit of distance between you two.

his eyes lock onto yours, a knowing familiarity etched into his dark irises; it was as if he was unraveling your expression layer by layer. you would’ve found it endearing if you weren’t carried from your desk in the midst of typing a report for kunikida out of the blue, just to be questioned like a homicide suspect.

“deflection is a common sign of jealousy~! t’s best to save yourself the time and embarrassment, and admit it: you’re jealous,” he dares say, as if it were a noteworthy detail that merits documentation.

“hmph!”

your eye twitches.

though seemingly at ease, ranpo was shaken. he knew you had a tendency to go silent whenever you were upset with him. he needs to tread carefully, he cannot undergo another hour of the silent treatment — neither can the agency! god forbid you take a break after seeing him get circled by “fans of his work.”

it was maddening to see a man who boasts as the “world’s greatest detective” stay oblivious while women shamelessly throw themselves at him.

the tilt of his head gives him an air of immaturity. “don’t get upset, i was only teasing!”

“…”

these four walls, adorned with its stale furniture and draped in shadows, became a backdrop for the unfolding drama. the only sounds heard were the whines of his chair as he adjusts his position, plus the light rustle of your coat as you shift uncomfortably to refrain making eye contact with him.

leaning forward, he rests his chin on the palm of his hand, arm prop on the table as he sighs rather dramatically. you were persistent, lips sealed tightly, refusing to say a word.

this was his (actual) last resort.

“do you want me to grovel? is that it?” his patience wears thin. “fine.” standing abruptly, you frown, expecting him to leave the room... however, to your shock, he kneels before you.

“huh, ranpo?!” you shriek, “what are you doing?! the floor is dirty! d’you even know when was the last time they cleaned this room? if they even clean it at all!”

he dismisses your concern. “do you forgive me? for being, uh… dense? i didn’t mean it, i swear!” his voice, a playful tune in the otherwise strained moment, holds a sincerity that surprises you.

“fine.” without hesitation, you gave him a firm nod, urging him to stand and to prevent further grime on his slacks.

ranpo wore a dumb grin on his face, stupid-looking yet very charming, effortlessly drawing a smile from you, the tension in your shoulders giving way. “what?”

fingers entwined with yours, he tugs you forward to place a chaste kiss on your lips. “it’s nothing, you’re cute when you get jealous.”

#beast akutagawa #akutagawa ryunosuke x reader #akutagawa x reader #beast ranpo #edogawa ranpo x reader #ranpo x reader #bungo stray dogs beast x reader #bsd beast x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader

427 notes · View notes

bbcphile · 4 months

Text

The Yin Leaves Threat Is a Bluff (MLC Meta)

Mysterious Lotus Casebook fans: Are we ready to talk about how the yin leaves threat was a bluff?

So many people seem to be taking Di Feisheng at his word that he wanted to make Li Xiangyi eat the yin leaves of the Wangchuan flower to regain his martial arts for one last glorious fight and that he was fine with Li Xiangyi dying very painfully from their poison after. And I see why: after all, LLH took him at his word, too, and LLH is famously smart and a good detective.

However, LLH has a history of jumping to false conclusions about DFS and, like the rest of the jianghu, assuming the worst of him: in fact, his mistaken belief that DFS broke the peace treaty and had his shixiong killed is the central misunderstanding that nearly destroyed both their respective sects and each other. So, since LLH is canonically very bad at telling who actually wants him dead and who loves him, it’s worth investigating this further. And looking at DFS’ history of bluffing is a good place to start.

DFS and Bluffing

Di Feisheng has a history of bluffing and/or threatening to kill or torture people when he doesn’t mean it. Here are some of his most notable examples (but click here for a much longer list of things he’s lied about or withheld info about):

Threatening to kill Qiao Wanmian to convince LLH to let him find a cure for Bicha (he doesn’t kill women)

Threatening to torture Gao Qian for information (he searches rooms instead)

Threatening to kill FDB when LLH says he’s trouble (the smirk after shows he was joking)

Threatening to kill Xiao Zijin at the wedding if LLH doesn’t help him get into 188 prisons (LLH walks him into a trap and yet DFS doesn’t even try to hurt XZJ in the fight)

Lying about poisoning and curing QWM to protect LLH’s identity and pretending to kidnap her

In all of those examples, DFS is trying to help or protect LLH, albeit in a very dysfunctional way. In the first example, he’s trying to blackmail LLH into living; the second example is to solve the case to find Shi Hun to expel the Asura Grass so he can find a cure for Bicha; the third is a joke, but also one designed to make LLH admit he does care about FDB because LLH is pretending he doesn’t care about anything as a prelude to giving up once he finds SGD’s body; the fourth is to get evidence that someone framed the Jinyuanmeng so LLH will trust him again and want to live to figure out who really killed his shixiong; and the last is to protect LLH’s identity (even though he only agreed to protect it until the Asura Grass was expelled. He’s trying to prove to LLH that LLH can trust him and he wants to help him, not harm him.)

All that to say: DFS has a history of bluffing about threatening to kill people if he thinks it will help Xiangyi live, and will take on the role of the villain—role the jianghu regularly casts him in—if he thinks it will help. And as some of those examples show, he also doesn’t share his plans with LLH until after the plan has been completed. And just look at all the things DFS withheld from LXY at their first donghai battle if you need more examples: he doesn’t mention that he knows it’s a frame job or why he stole SGD’s body. In all these examples, it’s not just that DFS has control issues and doesn’t want to share theories until he has proof: it seems likely that he knows/assumes LXY wouldn’t have believed him, because LLH already proved he didn’t trust him when he fell for the frame job, broke the peace treaty, and attacked the Jinyuanmeng. DFS assumes that there’s no point in presenting information to someone who won’t listen to it; he’d think it’s a waste of time and energy that could be better spent actively solving the problem.

But Why Bluff About the Yin Leaves?

Yao Mo’s Questionable Loyalty:

When DFS says he just needs LLH to live long enough to compete with him, he’s not talking to LLH himself: he’s talking to Yao Mo. In fact, the entire yin leaves plan was Yao Mo’s idea. And that changes everything.

Why? Well, for starters, Yao Mo is the one who invented the Bicha poison and gave it to JLQ to use on LXY (without DFS’ knowledge or permission). That alone is reason enough for DFS to not know if he can trust him, and this lack of trust explains why DFS never told Yao Mo that the mystery patient was LXY/LLH or that he was poisoned by Bicha. Since JLQ poisoned LXY because DFS paid so much attention to him and to fighting with him, it makes sense that DFS would try to protect LLH by hiding his identity and not drawing attention to him.

But of course, as soon as Yao Mo figures out the mystery patient was poisoned with Bicha, that secret is blown. The pained face (and Throat Bob of Emotion) DFS makes while Yao Mo is having this realization shows not only how upset he is that they don’t yet have a cure, but also how worried he is that Yao Mo now knows it’s LLH, which makes everything more complicated.

DFS was right that Yao Mo would figure it out, since the first thing Yao Mo does after this realization is tell DFS he’s thought of a way “to heal him so he can compete with you.” DFS had pointedly NOT mentioned competing with him in front of Yao Mo yet (to hide LLH’s identity), so this is definitive proof that his cover is blown and that DFS needs to find a new way to keep LLH safe.

This new plan is to downplay how much LLH means to him, and that motive explains so much about this scene. We know from watching him grieve and tear up while mourning LLH at his personal waterfall after his enthronement ceremony that DFS is miserable because of LXY’s supposed death and that he doesn’t see the point in fighting anymore without him, so we know that one last fight with LXY wouldn’t fix that: he’d still be dead and DFS would still be devastated.

(Here are some screenshots of him mourning at the waterfall.)

But this isn’t common knowledge. In fact, it seems to be a closely guarded secret; he’s mourning in private, with only Wuyan as a witness. In public and to the rest of his subordinates, he’s trying to project the attitude of the unemotional, unflappable, heartless demon of the jianghu because his reputation is part of his armor that keeps him safe. It lets him seem like he doesn’t have any weaknesses (since “a swordsman shouldn’t have weaknesses”), and it keeps people from knowing that his primary weakness (other than the mind control bug) is LXY/LLH.

(NOTE: He’s not even comfortable with anyone other than Wuyan and the three kings knowing he cares more about reaching the pinnacle of martial arts than he does about the Jinyuanmeng itself, and it’s not clear if any of them know that he mainly wants to increase his strength and power to free himself from the mind control bug. That’s how closely he guards his vulnerabilities.)

With that in mind, if he wants to keep Yao Mo (and therefore JLQ) from knowing how important LXY is to him, there’s only one possible answer to Yao Mo’s question about whether he’d mind if LLH dies from the yin leaves after the fight: pretending he wouldn’t object. If he said he’d give up a fight rather than let LLH die from the yin leaves, then Yao Mo would know LLH matters to him more than fighting, which would be revealing a weakness. If DFS said he would give the entire Wangchuan flower to LLH to cure him and would therefore be sacrificing his chance of getting stronger, it would be painting an even larger target on LLH’s back and showing Yao Mo that endangering LLH would be the key to controlling him. The only safe option for both LLH and DFS is for DFS to claim he doesn’t care if LLH dies after they fight and to give orders to find the flower.

Here’s a gif of his command about the Wangchuan flower:

Notice his furrowed brow, the tightness around his eyes and mouth, the way he’s almost wincing as he gives the order? He is miserable about having to play this game and his incredible poker face is barely up to the task.

Here’s a still image of right after the pronouncement; you can still see the barely suppressed wince.

After this command, he dismisses Yao Mo from the cave immediately so he doesn’t have to keep pretending he’s going to sacrifice LLH. The entire time Yao Mo is present, even while he’s walking away, DFS holds himself completely motionless, staying in character from the bluff and desperately waiting to be alone with LLH. The instant Yao Mo is gone, DFS slumps in relief, or at least, does his version of a slump: he bows/droops his head as though the weight of what just happened was too much to shoulder.

Here’s a close-up of his reaction:

DFS’s relief at being alone with LLH shows that he believed LLH knew him well enough to know when he was bluffing.

He was wrong.

LLH: Believing the Worst of DFS (again)

LLH’s belief that DFS wants to kill him for a duel makes sense, since at this point, he still thinks DFS did in fact have SGD killed and broke the peace treaty, and he’s pissed off, feeling betrayed, and also in pain (from the medicine and the Beifeng Baiyang transfer that made him cough up blood, and from all the snake bites–he’s primed to read those as exclusively aggressive and cruel attempts to heal him at all costs for the fight, and not to realize that DFS would absolutely do all these things to himself to heal his own martial arts without batting an eye. And he’s in too much pain to see the horrified look on DFS’s face when LLH coughs up blood and DFS realized he almost killed LLH while trying to cure him.)

But that doesn’t mean LLH is right.

DFS, upon seeing that LLH has again cast him as the heartless villain, doesn’t try to dispute it. In the same way that he didn’t explain about why he took SGD’s body at the donghai battle, he doesn’t explain himself about the flower, possibly because he thinks he doesn’t have time to waste arguing. His goal is to get LLH to live–he grieved him for a decade, after all, and doesn’t want to have to do it again–and he is painfully aware that he is running out of time. LLH hasn’t exactly been subtle about only staying alive to find and bury SGD’s body, and now that they’ve accomplished that, he wants to make sure LLH doesn’t give up. Growing up in Di Fortress, DFS probably learned how to recognize what it looks like when people give up on life, and seeing those signs in LLH would explain some of the desperation behind his actions.

So, what does he do instead of trying to convince LLH the threat was a bluff? Here’s a gif of his response:

He swallows his disappointment at being thought a heartless killer–bowing his head again and shaking it, then looking up at the cave roof in exasperation–and takes a long, long inhale to collect himself and to quickly brainstorm a new plan. Once he’s figured it out, he says LXY’s name and launches into stage 2 of his plan to convince LLH to live: correcting the initial misunderstanding that first led LLH to not trust him anymore.

DFS tries to convince LLH that someone conspired against both of them a decade ago–the truth he thought LXY wouldn’t believe him about on the ship–because if that worked, then it would solve two problems: 1. LLH might believe him that he doesn’t want to kill him for the rematch if he knew he hadn’t had SGD killed, and 2. LLH would choose to stay alive to find SGD’s real killer and get revenge.

And when LLH doesn’t believe his initial attempt, he gives what is possibly his longest speech in the entire show detailing the evidence supporting his claim that they were both set up and offers to help him find the truth in exchange for their rematch. While he definitely does want a rematch, DFS mentions it here in part because LLH thinks it’s all he cares about; if he were to offer to help without requiring the fight, LLH would be less likely to believe him and even more suspicious of his claims, especially since LLH currently thinks DFS would kill him for said rematch.

But unfortunately, his plan for them to team up fails as he thought it would all those years ago, so he decides to play along with being the heartless villain LLH thinks he is, and it’s only then that he threatens to kill FDB (revealing FDB’s parentage in the process), because he knows that LLH would stay alive to protect FDB.

I have another 2000+ words worth of thoughts about his talk and fight with FDB–the way he tries to “kidnap” him first instead of fighting him, the way he looks miserable during the fight instead of enjoying it the way he did during the fight at QWM and XZJ’s wedding–but it will have to wait for another meta because this is already way too long as it is. The point, though, is that he’s not fighting FDB because he wants to or is enjoying hurting him: he actually hates every second of it and of performing the role of jianghu villain LLH has once again cast him in. But he’s doing it because he thinks it’s the only way to keep LLH alive.

These aren’t the actions of someone who just wants to sacrifice his old rival for a fight; they’re the actions of someone trying everything he can think of to keep the person he loves alive. It’s an incredibly convoluted way to show his care, but given that he’s desperate, out of time, and can’t get LLH to trust or believe him, it makes sense that he’d fall back on a reliable skillset that’s kept himself alive despite all the odds: bluffing, keeping his true goals a secret, adopting the mantle of villain, and letting himself be hated for things he hasn’t done.

With both the fight with FDB and with the yin leaves threat, DFS plays the villain to try to force LLH to live, because he’d rather LLH hate him and live than love him and die.

Because Di Feisheng has never wanted Li Xiangyi–or Li Lianhua–dead.

160 notes · View notes

antebunny · 25 days

Text

Babysitter from Hell

Jason changes his mind on never associating with any of the Bats ever again because of one Stephanie Brown. She had absolutely no intention of changing his mind about anything, she just showed up and started talking until Jason begrudgingly accepted his fate as the “I’ll kill for you” member of a “live for me” family.

(That’s a lie. He’s gotten over 10% of anything that’s ever happened to him in his eventful albeit painfully short life. But he’s working on it, okay?)

Before Jason knew any better, Steph reminded him of Dick. A cheerful, upbeat personality, a flagrant and equally cheerful disregard for Batman’s orders, an overconsumption of sugary breakfast items, a love for bright colors, and an annoying distaste for brutality, considering both are (technically) violent criminals.

Really, the main difference he saw was that Steph fucking hates his guts.

Jason is still sure that Dick will, eventually, after Titan’s Tower. He put his plan to give his Replacement a beat-down on hold after the Bats discovered his identity. It’s hard to maintain his level of hatred for the Bats when they keep soft-speaking at him like he’s some sort of victim they’re rescuing. That’s also why he keeps avoiding Dick. The guy treats all of Jason’s threats against the Replacement like one big joke. Who would’ve thought that the “getting pissed on the Replacement’s behalf” job would fall to his ex-girlfriend?

In summary, Jason thought Steph was a purple-clad, blond-haired female version of Dick with no emotional attachment to the second Robin, and a personal relationship with the third Robin. An enemy, in other words. Someone with every reason to be ideologically opposed to Jason for the rest of time.

Still, she’s a kid. Jason has promised himself to be nice to all vigilantes, no matter how sanctimonious or annoying, so long as they’re only fifteen years old. So when he finds her perched on a rooftop corner, doing recon on a case that he is working on, he mutters a curse to himself and doubles back to find a good spot to grapple to her rooftop without anyone noticing. He doesn’t want to get in a fight with a kid, but he doesn’t want anyone to think they’re on friendly terms, either. Better that no one knows.

Spoiler notices him coming at the last second and rolls to her feet. Too late if he was actually trying to kill her, and she’s also giving up her position. How sloppy. Jason can’t believe Batman’s letting her out like this.

“Go run home to daddy,” he growls. “Before I make you.”

That should be enough. Jason has a gun. (A lot of them). She can’t have more than two years of training. She clearly has been instructed not to engage with him, if the way she quietly mutters O, it’s Hood, yes I’m leaving immediately pinky promise means anything. Which is why Jason is utterly floored when she snaps back at him.

“My dad’s in jail, where he belongs,” Spoiler retorts.

“What.”

That’s all Jason can manage when Jason_Todd.exe stops functioning. Several rebooting attempts fail as they run into Bruce is in jail??? then no, obviously not Bruce then I don’t even care if Bruce is in jail then who is Spoiler, anyway? If Jason casts his mind back to who he thought Spoiler was before all this happened, he would’ve said roughly middle class, most likely orphaned, and probably had a parent that was the head of Gotham’s social services before being brutally murdered by some Rogue who hated anyone being nice to orphans. It would’ve been on par for the course, at least. Bruce’s parents were good up until they were good and dead. Same with Dick. Barbara’s dad, despite being the chief of police, was somehow the one non-corrupt cop in all of Gotham. Jason was the only unlucky one.

Or so he thought.

“So unless you’re gonna put me in jail,” Spoiler prompts. “Which would be pretty hypocritical of you, considering–”

“What the fuck is he locked up for?”

Okay, he could’ve said that nicer. And he said he would be nice to kids. But consider: Jason is just not very good at keeping his promises.

Spoiler stares at him blankly in a way only someone wearing white-out lenses and a lower face mask can. “For…being a knockoff Riddler? Ever heard of Cluemaster? I guess it’s understandable for your average citizen to not but like, this is your job, dude. How can you not–”

“Cluemaster?” Jason interrupts again, even harsher than before. He vaguely recognizes the name from the long list of minor villains that came and went while Jason was away. “Arthur Brown?”

“Yep!” Spoiler springs forward and extends a hand. Belatedly he realizes that he hasn’t lowered his gun. “Stephanie Brown, nice ta meet ‘cha!”

And that’s how Jason learns Steph’s name.

Jason finally does lower the gun, only so that he can bat her hand away and look frantically around the rooftop for anyone who might’ve overheard. “You can’t just tell me your secret identity!” He shouts, careful to not repeat her name even when he’s losing control over his volume. “That–what the fuck! That’s Vigilantism 101!”

Spoiler–Stephanie–picks up his hand and shakes it vigorously.

“What the fuck,” Jason repeats blankly while his hand–or more accurately, blood-stained glove–is shaken by an overeager fifteen-year-old idiot. “What the fuck. I’m a–a Rogue. I’m your enemy. How the fuck did B let you out in a mask.”

“Okay, first of all, B didn’t let me do anything,” Stephanie corrects, affronted about all the wrong things. “I was the one running around trying to stop my dad’s–Cluemaster, in case you already forgot–plans. Second of all, I know who you are, I’m not an idiot. B got a hell of a lecture on how it’s very not pogchamp to keep important secrets from us. I wouldn’t just tell anyone. Third, I thought you already knew? Aren’t you obsessed with Robin? How come you didn’t already know?”

Jason steps away from her, mind reeling with memories of two-bit criminal Willis Todd and his reign of terror in that shitty, one-bedroom apartment deep in Park Row. He would bet his (second) life that long before Arthur Brown took to the streets, he took whatever it is that’s so fucked up inside him out on those closest to him. His family, the people that needed and trusted him the most, the people that could not just walk away.

How many times has Jason thought of Willis Todd and burned with resentment whenever the Bats preached about all criminals getting second chances? They wouldn’t get it, he’d told himself; a hollow comfort, clearly, when Stephanie is standing right in front of him, as bright and cheerful as ever, happy to be working with the Bats even while she spits on her father’s memory.

(Not memory. His name. He’s alive, albeit rotting in prison. Just one more abuser that Batman refused to kill for someone he l–someone under his protection).

“I know now,” Jason drawls. “Should’ve listened to their lectures on secret identities. Now leave, little girl.”

And maybe it’s the insult, or O (whoever that is, because Jason does not, in fact, know) telling her to go, but Spoiler gives him one more affronted look and leaves.

It’s not the last he hears of Spoiler, of course. Though someone clearly gives her the mother of all lectures afterwards, because she avoids him for a couple weeks. That gives him the time to do his own research.

Stephanie Brown lives in the Narrows with her mother, a mere hop and skip from where Jason grew up. She went to public school up until last academic year, whereupon she got a scholarship from Wayne Foundation. She attends Gotham Academy, like the Replacement, like Barbara, like Dick (like Jason before that too was stolen from him).

She’s surprisingly similar to Jason. (He swears he’s not just drawing comparison for his own ego). Her mother is still alive, so she received a scholarship instead of being adopted by Bruce. But both fathers were a joke to the very idea of fatherhood. (Both mothers failed to protect them from the father). Both grew up in poor, dangerous neighborhoods with violent, criminal fathers.

The thing is–and Jason surprises himself with the revelation–he wants to mentor her. Jason is very sure that he understands, better than any of the Bats, what she has gone through. The same soft streak which hates to see kids on the streets wants to take her under his wing.

I don’t understand, Little Wing. What did he do to you?

It’s impossible for so many reasons that it doesn’t bother stating. Jason isn’t a Bat (anymore), and the lack of trust is mutual even if the hate is not. Really, the most important reason should be the fact that Steph hates his guts, except–

“And I know he means well, but he’s just so…overbearing sometimes, y’know?”

Jason slaps another pancake down on her plate. “Tell me ‘bout it.”

They’re a farce, the two of them. Eating pancakes at midnight on the only clean kitchen counter (the other is littered with disassembled guns) while Jason is half-dressed in military-grade gear. Steph, meanwhile, speaks with her mouth stuffed full. Maple syrup drips onto her fluffy white crop top (Jason didn’t know they made fluffy crop tops), and she brushes crumbs off her purple sweatpants.

It feels like a joke. The remorseless murderer, glowering at his mixing bowl and the teenage vigilante, resembling nothing so much as a chipmunk. (It feels a bit like having a family again).

“Like, it’s like he’s showing off how many friends he has,” Steph continues, oblivious to Jason’s inner monologue. “Which I know he’s not, but seriously. He’s been doing this so much longer than any of us, and then he gets so excited by someone new and tries to introduce them to everyone and it’s like–he’s friends with Starfire, and all the original Titans, and half the Justice League and half of Gotham’s Rogue gallery, and goddamn Superman. And he has B wrapped around his little finger and doesn’t even know it!”

Jason’s pancake suddenly tastes bland and weirdly mushy. “Yeah. Sucks ass but kinda funny.”

Somehow Jason’s attempts to look after Steph on patrol, to make sure she isn’t too injured, turned into this. Steph bursts into one of his apartments of safehouses at random hours of the day, raids his pantry, and complains a mile a minutes about anyone and everything.

“You gonna answers his calls?” Steph side-eyes him. “I know he keeps getting your number somehow and you know he really misses you.”

Which is not to say that all Steph does is complain and talk about herself. She’s all too happy to prod Jason about his (nonexistent) personal life.

“No,” Jason answers shortly, and throws another pancake on her plate. “Eat or get out.”

Steph shrugs and attacks her new pancake with gusto. She doesn’t push or pry, unlike some people Jason could mention, though she always asks. A Bat who is capable of just letting it go. Jason thought he’d never see the day.

If Jason were an “asks question” type of person instead of a “bottle everything up until you choke on it” kind of person, maybe he’d ask about her father. About what really happened with Black Mask, not just what news reports speculate. (Ask how she can stand to love the Bats when they’ve failed her so terribly, when her abuser draws breath, when her murderer walks free, when the Bats sleep easily knowing both of those facts and have no intention of changing either fact even though they claim to l–)

Jason isn’t an “asks question” type of person.

“Hey, can I bring Tim next time?” Steph asks, just shy of casual. “He’d–”

The wooden mixing spoon cracks in Jason’s hand. “Unless you wanna get him a couple’a broken bones,” he says evenly, “I’d suggest keepin’ that little parasite far away from me.”

Steph scowls, suddenly remembering that she doesn’t like Jason. “I don’t get why you hate him.”

Why wouldn’t he. The Replacement represents everything Jason loathes. It’s almost too perfect, how hateable he is.

“I don’t get how you dated him,” Jason retorts, which is maybe a little beneath him. Whatever.

“Oh, we are not talking about my dating history,” Steph hisses. She shoves her stool back as she stands, fork clattering to the counter. “Bros before hoes. You’re the hoe. Tim’s my bro.”

Jason is trying to decide whether or not to take offense while she produces a takeout box out of nowhere. For her next trick, she disappears all the remaining pancakes on her plate into the box, seals it smartly, and disappears the box.

“Thanks for the food. Asshole.” Steph scowls, upset at her own manners and upset at Jason for not simpering for the little leech who wormed himself into Jason’s f–the group of people Jason would’ve once called family.

Jason is no expert, but when someone makes pancakes for you at midnight, it’s an act of love. Or something. He could never say it out loud, but Steph gets it. She knows what going on here, beneath Jason’s harsh words (and threats, and firearms, and–you get the point).

It almost feels like having a little sister, or a weird little cousin. Steph isn’t remotely scared of him. She inexplicably wants to spend time with Jason, as rough and unpleasant as he is. Jason doesn’t believe for one second that the other Bats don’t know about her visits, so somehow, they’re fine with it too. The only thing chasing Steph away and flaring Jason’s temper, is, once again, the fucking Replacement.

The next Bat to successfully land a standing invitation to Jason’s (nonexistent) dinner table is also one of the first. Barbara Gordon rolls up to his doorstep one night, armed only with whatever rocket launchers she has installed in her wheelchair (which probably doesn’t sound like “only” to anyone but Jason). The arched frown she levels at him from over her glasses is so familiar, so lovingly judgemental, that Jason tears up a little.

He slams his front door closed and starts dumping his gear, back to Barbara, so he can hide his face until the wetness around his eyes goes away. When he turns around, Barbara is a little closer and a little further to his left, by the kitchen counter stools.

“Hey Babs,” says Jason, at a loss for what else to do. “What the fuck happen’a you?”

“Nice to see you too, Jason,” Barbara replies dryly. “Or should I say long time no see. Since it’s been years.”

Jason meanders toward the kitchen counter, noting a few new visible scars on Barbara’s face and arms. When she leverages herself out of her wheelchair and into one of the kitchen chairs, he realizes just how much taller than her he is now. In his last vivid memory of her, he looks up to her free-flowing red hair, her smirk. Now he cants his chin, staring her down as she laces her fingers together and raises an extremely judgemental eyebrow.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were alive,” Barbara demands.

Jason shrugs. “Well, I wasn’t. ‘N’ then I was and you didn’t care, so.”

Barbara scowls, an action so perfectly familiar that Jason tears up again. What is up with him tonight? Just seeing someone that he knew years ago is enough to make him lose it. Jason busies himself with the cupboards, once again hiding his face from her.

“That’s not even remotely funny, Jason.”

Somewhere underneath the lecturing is genuine hurt. Shame she can’t admit to it, maybe then their conversation would be easier to swallow. (Shame Jason can’t, either).

“How would you feel if you grieved someone you cared about only to find out years later that they were alive and never bothered to tell you? I don’t think I’ve seen Dick smile once since w–”

Jason slams a half-drunk can of soda down on the counter. He’d meant to find something better in the fridge, but right now he can’t even remember taking anything from it.

“‘Course this is about fucking Dick.” Jason loses sight of Barbara’s scowl as his vision swims in radioactive green. “You never gave a damn ab–”

“Just because I love him doesn’t mean I don’t care about you!”

Barbara’s interruption is the sort of truth that couldn’t be tortured out of Jason. Despite everything, he smiles. Just a quick tug at the right corner of his mouth, but a smile nonetheless.

“You tell him that?”

“Shut up.” At least Barbara sounds exasperated, not mad. “His ego’s big enough as it is. Don’t try and change the subject. I don’t get what sort of game you’re playing, letting Steph stay over while running Dick and Bruce and ragged, and avoiding me and Alfred, and threatening Ti–”

Just half-mentioning the Replacement’s name floods Jason’s head with violent green rage. The can of soda crumples in his hands. Whatever soda was left spurts onto the marble countertop, fizzing sadly.

“How can you even pretend to care,” Jason challenges, “when the Joker is still alive?”

When Jason’s vision clears fully, Barbara is watching him knowingly from across the counter, over the plastic frame of her glasses. It’s almost pitying, but Jason knows her just a little too well to believe that.

“Why do you think,” Barbara asks, “I haven’t killed the Joker? For what he did to me. It wasn’t even about me. It was all about getting to Bruce.”

For the first time since Jason came back to Gotham, he falters. There’s so many right answers to that question, but none of them feel like Barbara’s answer. Life-changing injuries, for vigilantes, strip away their identity, their sense of worth. How do you remake yourself in the aftermath? How did Barbara do it without ever seeking revenge? Jason genuinely has no idea.

“You didn’t die,” Jason answers gruffly, feeling every ounce of asshole he is.

“There were times I wish he’d killed me,” Barbara counters calmly.

Biting, helpless fear that Jason has not known since he saw his mom’s last needle billows in his lungs. Not Barbara Gordon. Never. She means too much to too many people. She’s survived too much to just give up.

“Fuck that.” Jason grabs two cans of soda from the fridge and slides one over the counter to her. “Don’t let that sack of shit win.”

Barbara cracks open her can, then lifts it to hide a tired smile. “You know that’d be what Bruce killing the Joker would do. Letting him win.”

“Fuck that.” Jason places both palms flat on the counter so he won’t spill this soda. He breathes deeply as the green surges. “They’re not fuckin’ comparable. What Joker’s done and just killing the Joker are not the same. That’s not sinkin’ to his level or whatever bullshit, that’s doing this damn city a favor.”

“Let me ask you a question.” Barbara rubs one hand underneath her glasses, scrubbing a loose eyelash off her face. “I’ll probably never fight again. There’ll be experimental technology holding together my spine for the rest of my life. Do you think he should kill the Joker for that?”

“I’d kill him for you,” Jason answers unthinkingly.

(The thought, if Jason had taken the time to think it, is this: Jason can never say I care about you out loud. Todd men love expressing love through acts of violence. Wayne men love unflinching righteousness and devastating justice. Jason is a little too much of both). It’s the truth, though. There aren’t many people he wouldn’t kill if they’d hurt someone he cares about and if said person would appreciate it. He has a short mental list of people to kill for Dick if he ever thinks it would make Dick feel safer and wouldn't make him feel guilty. He’ll kill all of them before returning a single one of Dick’s calls.

“So. Yes.” Barbara taps a finger against her soda can. “So he should die for causing someone Bruce cares about severe injuries. Then he should kill his old friend Harvey Dent, for what he did to Dick. And Black Mask, for what he did to Steph.” Her gaze drops to the red bat defiantly splayed across Jason’s chest. “The Joker, for you. And then he’d kill you, for what you’re planning to do to Tim. And then himself, for killing you.”

He’d kill you for the Replacement.

Time stands still in that little apartment. Gunpowder, Febreze and sticky sweetness emanates from the sweat-slick surfaces. Jason struggles to breathe, but for once, he doesn’t see green. For the first time, he regrets telling them his ruined plan to teach the Replacement a lesson. It made them change the security of Titan’s Tower, for starters. And it makes him sound like a monster.

“It goes nowhere.” Barbara spreads her hands. “It never ends. Please, Jason. Stop hurting yourself. Stop hurting all of us.”

You know he really misses you.

Please, Little Wing. Come home.

Please, Jason. Stop hurting yourself.

Finally, Jason raises his soda can. “To not letting that sack of shit win.”

“To not letting that sack of shit win.” Barbara quirks a crooked smile and raises her own soda in reply.

They throw back their heads and start chugging in unison. Barbara immediately doubles forward, coughing and choking on soda. She slams the can down on the counter and wipes her mouth clean with the back of her free hand.

“Where’d you find this, the League of Assassins? This tastes like ass.”

“Fuck you! It’s a delicacy!”

So maybe Jason can accept his fate as the “I’d kill for you” member of a “live for me” family. It’s more bearable than the alternative: being alone while they worry over him from afar. He’ll even put his plans for the Replacement on indefinite hold.

Steph continues crashing his midnight angst sessions. Barbara adds him to the system she has set up and makes him swear to call for backup if he needs it. (He agrees, but need is a strong word). Jason doesn’t apologize for not telling them he was alive–he doesn’t know how–but he makes up for it by visiting Dick out in Blüdhaven. He even agrees to meet with Alfred in a popular cafe and returns with his head ringing and an armful of teas and snacks.

Best of all is the (unintentional) chokehold he has on Bruce. All he has to do his bat his eyelashes and say something wistful about never graduating high school and Bruce is falling over himself to make him fake identities. The others are all too willing to keep Bruce out of his business. It’s the perfect set up. Jason never would have guessed, when he first came back, that there was family–new family–waiting for him in Gotham. But between the comforting steadiness of Barbara, her willingness to ream him out, his begrudging fondness for his new hellion little sister, and his tumultuous relationship with a brother he loves, Jason thinks he just might stay.

Sometimes Jason even thinks he might forgive Bruce for not killing the Joker. Maybe not soon, and not for many other flaws that Bruce has yet to sort out, but maybe. All his recent musing on Willis Todd and whether that man ever loved anyone has forced Jason to reconsider his stance on love as violence that he didn’t even know he had.

Maybe he and this crazy family idea will be alright. Maybe he’ll forgive his dad. Forgiveness or lack thereof aside, they’ll always be some kind of father and son, for better or worse.

But the one person who Jason will absolutely not forgive is the Replacement.

Jason still has to deal with the Replacement occasionally. By ‘deal’ he means, of course, that he went to the Replacement’s ugly-ass manor house just to mess with him. Being on good-ish terms with Dick, Steph and Barbara doesn’t mean Jason can’t have some fun. He won’t go through with something like Titans’ Tower, not anymore, but he still can’t stand that arrogant, selfish, entitled little rich brat that wriggled his way into Jason’s family, alright? So he’s going to see for himself just how self-deluded that jumped-up Replacement of his is, sue him.

No matter how entitled, the Replacement still has school. He goes to Gotham Academy, the school Jason died attending, and he’s in the grade Jason never got to finish. It’s not until about 4 pm that the Replacement actually gets home, so Jason shows up at 6 pm, expecting to find the Drakes having dinner. Instead, the parents are absent, and the Replacement is eating takeout in one of the many living rooms, while in the middle of a game of cards.

“Ooh! Burn a card! Burn a card!” The Replacement taunts his opponent, a girl Jason just barely recognizes as Bruce’s newest adopted kid.

The girl–Cassandra, Jason thinks, though he hasn’t learned what her traumatic backstory is yet–scowls and slides a card from the bottom of her hand to the bottom of the pile on the rug.

“Your turn,” the Replacement adds.

Cass plays her top card without looking–an eight of spades–and Tim places a ten of diamonds. Then the game accelerates to a pace Jason struggles to understand. There’s a lot of slapping involved. Mostly it looks like they’re just playing cards one after another, until Cass slams her hand down on top of the pile.

“Wait, what?” The Replacement pushes her hand away and checks the top cards. A three of hearts and a three of spades. “Damn, you’re right. Double.”

This time Cass smirks as she scoops up the whole pile. Jason should probably stop spying from the doorway now. He only came to harrass the Replacement a little, not meet Bruce’s new kid. But then she turns her head and stares directly at him, so Jason shrugs mentally and saunters into the living room. He dumps his gun (one of them) on a comfy looking armchair as a sign of peace.

“So. Bruce’s new kid, huh?”

Cass nods once.

Jason plonks himself down on the coffee table. Legs sprawled, his shoe almost touches their playing cards. He ignores the Replacement staring at him in something akin to awe. It’s in turns enraging, confusing and uncomfortable.

“Lemme guess. Dad was an ax murderer, Mom died when you were young?” When Cass just stares at Jason blankly, the faintest hint of embarrassment creeps up on him. He tries again. “How’d you end up with this band of lunatics?”

Cass shrugs. She looks at the Replacement.

“Her bio dad is David Cain,” the Replacement explains, having the audacity to look something akin to sternly at Jason. “Her bio mom is Lady Shiva and she gave her away at birth, but after she escaped Cain–”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jason snaps, through the roaring green the Replacement’s stern look conjures. “What are you, her social worker? She can tell her own story.”

“Right,” says the Replacement, looking satisfyingly ashamed. “Yeah, of course.”

After a beat of silence, with both boys staring at her, Cass raises her hands. It takes Jason a beat too long to realize she’s explaining her story in ASL. Though explaining is a strong word. She makes the sign that Barbara came up with all those years ago, a combination of the sign for bird and the sign for bat, to mean broadly the Gotham vigilantes. Batman, Robin, all the bats and birds who call Gotham home and each other family. Then she makes the sign for good.

Bats good, Cass says. Then she gives Jason this dead-eyed stare that feels like it’s poking around his soul and seeing all his cringe-fail moments, and asks: Why are you so–? But Jason doesn’t recognize the actual adjective.

“She’s asking why you’re so angry,” the Replacement supplies, since he apparently knows more ASL than Jason does. A fact that Jason definitely does not care about at all.

“I’m not angry,” Jason says, you know, like a liar.

#my writing #my fanfiction #jason todd #batfam #batman #batfamily #drabble #snippet #abandoned cause i lost interest so i'm putting it on tumblr #jason and the girls: the fic basically #my fic #antebunny's ficlets

74 notes · View notes

formulauno98 · 12 days

Text

Yacht Girl Summer - Chapter Eleven / Chalet Girl Winter - Friday - George Russell x Reader, Toto Wolff x Reader

Word Count: 8.7k - Yes I got over my writers block and wrote a triple length chapter. I previously promised one final chapter but I've had to split it up so there will be fourteen chapters in total.

Warnings: 🌶 Some very PG mild spice but 18+ only.

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction. No use of Y/N and minimal descriptions because I want everyone/anyone to be able to enjoy this.

FRIDAY AFTERNOON

You and Toto arrived at his chalet just as the late afternoon sun was dipping behind the peaks of the Austrian mountains, casting your surroundings in a soft, golden glow. Guests were due to arrive that evening so ever the proud host, Toto had insisted on arriving a few hours ahead to ensure the chalet was up to his exacting standards.

After a short flight, the drive from the airport had been quiet, with Toto’s driver quickly navigating the sweeping snowy roads whilst Toto sat beside you in the backseat, engrossed in answering emails on his iPad and occasionally glancing across at you, covering your hand with his.

You had spent the journey from the airport in silence, wrapped in thoughts of the past few months and how quickly things had changed. You’d gone from a troubled relationship with George to something entirely different with Toto and life felt much easier, albeit surreal. Toto was like a breath of fresh air. Considering he was much busier than George, he listened to you, valued your opinions and remembered the small details. You finally felt like your own person again.

– – –

“Wow,” you exclaimed as you stepped out of the car, the sting of cold mountain air hitting your face as you stretched your legs. Toto had undersold you his chalet, it was enormous, a wide expanse of rustic wood and sparkling glass, perfectly nestled in a small valley in the heart of the mountains, set back from the road.

“You like it?” said Toto, coming to your side and taking your hand in his as you took in your grand surroundings.

“Well I’ll reserve judgment until I get the full tour, but on first impressions, yes it’s beautiful,” you said, stretching up to kiss him on the cheek.

Toto smiled and led you towards the heavy wooden front door, “Come on, I’ll show you around.” Turning back towards his driver, he added, “I’ll come back for the bags.”

The door creaked open easily and you were immediately greeted by a wave of warmth and the scent of fresh pine and woodsmoke. Toto squeezed your hand gently. “Welcome to my favourite place in the world.”

“I think I can see why,” you replied, marvelling at Toto’s mountain home. Having so far spent the majority of your time together in London, you hadn’t yet been to any of Toto’s houses and you were looking forward to having a good look around. The foyer was breathtaking, intricate wooden beams arched overhead, an impressive staircase wound upwards to the galleried landing on the second floor and large windows framed the snow-covered peaks outside. It was picture-perfect, almost like something out of a movie.

“I’ll show you around in a minute,” Toto said, before stepping forward to greet an older man and woman who had seemingly appeared from nowhere, introducing them as Greta, his House Manager, and Claus, his Chef. You blushed furiously as he introduced you as his girlfriend. It wasn’t a conversation you’d had yet but it was comforting to know that he was serious about your relationship and wasn’t afraid to tell people.

“Lovely to meet you too,” said Greta, eyeing you curiously, “Here, let me take your coats. Toto, do you need me to send someone for the bags?”

“Thank you Greta but that will be okay. I will bring them,” said Toto as he passed both of your coats to her. He turned back to you, “Why don’t you look around while I get our things?”

You nodded, still overwhelmed by the grandeur of the place and the way Toto had introduced you. As he headed back outside, Greta and Claus busied themselves, leaving you alone in the spacious foyer. You were immediately drawn to a console table across from you, laden with elegantly framed photos. Picking up a small silver frame you smiled as you clocked a photograph of Toto and the woman who had caused your first quarrel - his sister. They looked to be in their late teens, smiling and laughing at the camera with identical dimpled grins. In hindsight you felt stupid, the family resemblance was strong.

“Found something interesting? Toto said, having reappeared behind you, carrying your bags inside with ease.

“Just a little.” you said, placing the frame back down from where you’d taken it, “It’s nice, you have more photos here than on the yacht.”

“Well, it’s the family home. They all come here for the holidays,” said Toto, placing the bags down gently at the foot of the stairs before stepping closer to you, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. “Come, I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

He led you through the spacious living room, where yet more floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the valley below. As the afternoon sun waned, soft light from the large stone fireplace cast a golden glow across the room. It was cosy as hell and you could already imagine spending the evening here, curled up on one of the large cream sofas with a glass of wine and a book.

“This is the heart of the house,” Toto explained, gesturing to the living room. “We designed it to be a place where everyone can gather and relax.”

“I love it,” you said, clocking the carefully chosen details, the thick sheepskin rugs and the luxe throws draped over the sofas. It was certainly very Alpine. “When you say we…?”

Toto smiled, admitting “My interior designer and I. I know what I like but have no idea how to find it.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” you said laughing, “You’re a busy man!”

Toto’s eyes twinkled as he pulled you from behind into his chest, bending down to whisper in your ear, his voice low, “Is that so?”

Turning around to face him, you stretched up to plant a soft kiss on his lips, “Far too busy to select cushions.”

“I know my favourite cushions,” said Toto, his expression deadpan before he reached his arms behind you to lightly squeeze your ass, making you squeal.

“Ahem.” came a voice from a doorway on the other side of the room, interrupting the moment. It was Greta.

“Sorry Greta,” said Toto, his mouth quirking with a smirk, “I was just giving a house tour.”

“Sorry to interrupt but Andreas wanted to know where the bags need to go,” said Greta, blushing as she couldn’t quite meet Toto’s eye.

“In the master suite.” said Toto, “Sorry I should have instructed him.”

“No worries, I will let him know.” said Greta with a polite smile, turning to leave before suddenly turning back, “Can I get you anything? A drink? A snack? Claus is preparing the evening service but it is long to wait until then.”

Toto turned to you, his eyes kind as he clocked that you were not used to having staff. “Would you like anything?”

It was your turn to blush as you felt like a spoilt brat, “Oh no, I’m fine thank you, maybe I can come and grab a tea later?”

“Sure,” said Toto and Greta in unison, exchanging a somewhat strange look. “I will show the kitchen on my tour, Greta.”

“Very well,” said Greta, ducking out of the doorway and leaving you alone once more.

“Sorry about that, I know you think I am an idiot for having staff but as we don’t use this house often it is better to have them to keep things running,” said Toto, looking a little embarrassed.

“Not at all.” you said, before adding, “Well… I’m not used to it. I know you had the crew on the boat but that feels different because you need them to sail. I can always get my own drinks.”

“I know.” said Toto, “I’ll have a word with Greta.”

“Thanks,” you said, stretching up to kiss him once more.

He smiled, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Come, there’s more to see.”

As promised, he led you to the kitchen next, a modern space with light wood cabinetry, sleek appliances and a large island at its centre. Claus was busy expertly chopping vegetables as Toto caught his attention.

“What’s on the menu?” he asked, smiling at the older man.

“The usual.” said the older man, smiling before gesturing to a large pot simmering away, “And Greta has made Glühwein.”

“What’s that?” you asked, unaccustomed to Austrian cuisine.

“Mulled wine.” said Toto, pulling you towards the stove before lifting the lid, “Here, smell it.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, turning to Claus since it was clear that he was the voice of authority in this kitchen. He nodded approvingly so you bent down to take in the aromatic mix of cinnamon and spices. “It smells like Christmas!” you exclaimed.

The two men laughed at your enthusiasm. “You will love it,” said Toto.

“Looking forward to trying it,” you said to Claus.

“Oh, it is not me who makes it, it is my wife,” Claus said, beaming.

“Claus and Greta are married.” explained Toto, as he clocked your look of confusion, “It makes sense since they live here together.”

“I see,” you said, “Is this common in chalets?”

“No, I just lucked out,” said Toto smiling at Claus.

“I think you’ll find we are the lucky ones,” the older man replied, “Now, please young man, leave me alone so I can carry on getting this food ready for the guests.”

Toto laughed at the man trying to shoo you out, “Okay but we will be back for tea.”

Claus shook his head before returning to chopping, adding sarcastically, “I can’t wait.”

“He seems fun,” you said as Toto guided you along another hallway off to the other side of the kitchen.

“They are both great fun, and Andreas.” he replied, “You’ll see tonight.”

“Without sounding like an idiot, is that normal for staff?” you asked, not sure of the etiquette.

“Not exactly.” said Toto, “But they’re more like family than staff. You’ll see.”

He then led you down a hallway, pointing out various rooms; there was a well-appointed dining room, complete with a grand piano, a den filled with books and games and a traditional sauna for unwinding after a day on the slopes. He then led you up a smaller wooden staircase at the end of the hallway, bringing you onto the far end of the galleried landing you’d seen from the foyer.

“Ooh secret stairs,” you said, following Toto along the landing.

“Not so secret but quicker to get to our room,” he said, stopping at a set of grand wooden double doors. He opened them dramatically to reveal the master suite. The bedroom was expansive, with another large stone fireplace at one end and wall-to-wall glass doors that opened out onto a veranda on the other.

“I hope you’ll be comfortable here,” he said, his voice dropping slightly as he turned to you, eager to see your verdict.

You stepped into the room, admiring the luxurious furnishings and the spectacular view. The bed was cloud-like and you couldn’t wait to dive in later, “I think I will survive.”

Toto burst into laughter, “I’m glad to hear it. Although I will warn you, it gets cold here at night. We might need to cuddle up.”

“Oh really?” you asked, moving closer to Toto, liking where this was going.

“One hundred percent,” he said, leaning in to catch your lips with his, his large hands resting on your hips, spanning your waist.

“Do you offer this service to all of your guests?” you asked, with a smirk.

“Only my favourites,” he said before gripping your hips tighter and throwing you down onto the bed.

“Heyy!” you said, in surprise, giggling as he lay down on top of you, pressing kisses behind your ear, his hands starting to roam.

You blushed as Toto’s kisses grew more playful and he started to nip at your collarbone, gradually dipping lower. “I think I could get used to this,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair as he trailed kisses down your neck.

Toto lifted his head, his eyes dark with affection as he looked down at you. “I hope you do.”

“Toto…” you whispered, his gaze was intense, full of a desire that made your heart race.

“Yes?” he murmured, his voice husky.

You bit your lip, trying to think of something to reply but the words got lost as you lost yourself in his eyes. Instead, you pulled him back down to you, kissing him deeply. Toto responded eagerly, his hands moving to the hem of your sweater, lifting it just enough to slip his hands underneath.

Things were just starting to heat up when you were suddenly interrupted by your phone ringing loudly from your bag across the room. You froze for a second and then Toto sighed, resting his forehead against yours.

“You should probably get that,” he said, his eyes saying otherwise.

“Or I could ignore it,” you suggested, trying to pull him back down, but he shook his head, a smirk on his lips.

“It could be important,” he countered, giving you a quick peck before rolling off the bed and letting you up.

You groaned, got up and made your way over to your bag. The ringing stopped but the unmistakable chime of a message rang out. You reached for your phone and unlocked it, glancing at the screen, it was a message from Cara.

We’re 15 minutes away. Hope you two lovebirds aren’t getting up to too much trouble without us ;)

You couldn’t help but laugh as you sat back down on the bed and showed Toto the message. He chuckled, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Great timing, as always.”

You smiled and started to fix your sweater, smoothing it out as you replied.

Trying my best but Toto is persistent. Can’t wait to see you x

“I guess that’s our cue to get ready for the others,” you said, slipping off the bed and heading toward the bathroom to check your appearance.

Toto watched you, clearly enjoying the sight of you walking away. “You look perfect,” he called after you.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr Wolff,” you teased, glancing at him over your shoulder before disappearing into the bathroom.

– – –

When you returned, Toto had opened up the glass doors and was stood out on the veranda, leaning up against the wooden balustrade, looking out into the darkness. The sun had fully set and the first stars were beginning to twinkle in the clear sky. You were hit with a strange feeling of deja vu as you were fondly reminded of the first time Toto had spoken to you properly, up on the sun deck of his yacht on a similar starry night.

He turned as he heard you approaching, “They’ll be here any minute now,” he said, his thumb gently reaching out and stroking the back of your hand as you joined him.

You nodded, leaning into him as you both gazed out at the night sky. “I’m glad we came here early,” you said softly. “It’s been nice, just us.”

Toto squeezed your hand, his voice warm, “Me too, but we’ll have plenty more time just for us.”

Your eyes lit up at the prospect of more travel with Toto, “I hope so.” you said, letting him sway you gently from behind. You stayed there in blissful silence for a moment before it was interrupted by the sound of cars making their way up the drive. Toto murmured from behind you, “Sounds like we have company.”

You turned and smiled up at him, brushing an errant strand of hair off his forehead. “I suppose you should go and greet them.”

“I suppose, but you are coming down with me” he replied, leaning down to steal one last kiss before you both made your way back inside.

“Are you sure?” you said, gently closing the door behind you, “It’s your house.”

“If you are fine with it?” he said, looking unsure of himself.

“Sure,” you said quietly, a little apprehensive to greet the group, some of whom you had not seen in person since the fateful yacht trip.

“You don’t sound so sure.” said Toto, raising his eyebrow, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know if it’s my place,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“That is bullshit.” said Toto, matter of factly, “Is it because of what happened before?”

Feeling your flushed face betray you, you looked at him, “Well yes. I don’t want them to think badly of me. I haven’t seen James, John or Marion since the yacht and God only knows what George is going to say if he sees me swanning down those stairs like I own your house.”

Toto’s expression softened, “If they think badly of you, I have the number of a nice hotel down the road.”

You laughed, Toto was stubborn as ever, “You know what I mean.”

Drawing you back in close, Toto rubbed your shoulders, “I’m here and I’m not going to let anyone say anything. I want you to feel at home here. Besides, James and Cara know the situation, John and Marion likely guessed and George, well George has his friends and is bringing someone so he cannot be too angry with us.”

Raising a small smile, you leaned into the tall Austrian’s chest, breathing deeply. Toto had some kind of magical power to immediately make you feel at ease. “Thank you,” you replied, looking up at him.

“No, thank you for coming, you’ve made me a very happy man,” he said, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before taking your hand and leading you out of the bedroom. Attentive as ever, he clocked you eyeing up your luggage, “We can unpack a little later.”

“You already know me too well,” you said, shaking your head as Toto laughed, leading you back down the landing, this time towards the main staircase. As you descended the stairs, you could hear excited chatter from the foyer before catching sight of two familiar faces, James and Cara. You felt somewhat relieved that George had not yet arrived but were still nervous as to what they could say.

“Toto! You old rascal!” James called out as soon as he spotted you both, his voice teasing.

“Old?” Toto replied with a grin, stepping forward to greet his friends. “How was the journey?”

“Not too bad,” Cara said, wrapping her arms around you in a warm hug. “We made good time in the end, have you two been here long?”

“No, about an hour, Toto was just showing me around,” you said, turning to hug James, glad that they were here and you’d have at least two friends for the weekend.

“It’s gorgeous right?” said Cara, beaming at you and Toto.

“Indeed,” you said, politely leaning in to greet James with a hug.

“Andreas will take your bags,” said Toto, gesturing at a sandy-haired younger man patiently waiting in the doorway. He looked just like a younger Claus and you made a note to ask Toto if he was Greta and Claus’ son.

“Thank you, Andreas,” said Cara warmly.

“We’ve put you in the room with the balcony like last year,” said Toto.

“Perfect, thank you so much Toto.” said Cara excitedly before turning to you, “It’s heaven, it has its own hot tub.”

“Ah yes, I remember that,” said James, approaching his wife, making her face redden. You hated to think what that was about and exchanged a raised eyebrow with Toto.

“Spare us the details James,” said Toto in a deadpan tone before throwing you a wink.

James chuckled and threw an arm around Cara’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it PG. For now,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows, earning a playful nudge from his wife.

“Not on my account,” you replied, feeling more at ease. It was a relief to know that James and Cara, at least, were fully supportive of you and Toto.

Toto chuckled, pulling you to his side. “Let’s get you settled in,” he said, guiding everyone further into the house.

As Andreas handled the bags, you all moved towards the living room, settling down on the large cream sofa as Toto set about pouring drinks in the bar area.

“So,” James began, stretching out and making himself at home, “What’s on the agenda for this weekend, Toto? Skiing? Apres? Or are we just here to relax and enjoy the view?”

Toto smiled, glancing at you before responding. “Whatever you want James, but mostly to switch off and relax..”

“I like the sound of that,” Cara said, curling up next to her husband. “It’s been a hectic few months. A little downtime is exactly what you guys need.”

You nodded in agreement, knowing that Toto had been working flat-out, as had the rest of the team.

As you all chatted, the doorbell rang, meaning more guests. Toto squeezed your hand gently, reassuring you as he got up to go and greet them.

“Here we go,” you murmured to Cara, who gave you a supportive smile.

Toto returned with Marion and John in tow, the older couple lamenting the cold weather. Marion’s eyes lit up when she saw you and she immediately rushed over to hug you.

“It’s so good to see you!” Marion exclaimed, pulling you into a warm embrace. “I was hoping you’d be here.”

You smiled, relieved by her enthusiasm. “It’s good to see you too, Marion. How have you been?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” she laughed. “But we’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

John gave you a friendly nod, clearly more reserved. “Nice to see you again,” he said, shaking your hand.

“Good to see you too.” you blushed, knowing that John was likely privy to what had happened between yourself, George and Toto and must have felt as awkward as you did.

“Come, sit down, let me get you a drink,” said Toto, chiding John and Marion as they lingered in the living room.

“I’ll help.” offered John, looking unsure about sitting without Toto.

“Thank you,” said Toto as the two men busied themselves at the bar.

You settled back down on the plush sofa with your wine in hand, now beside Marion, who had just been handed her own glass by Toto. Edging closer, the older woman turned to you, her eyes glinting with curiosity. “So...you and Toto, huh? I have to say, I didn’t see that one coming. I know things with George were tense in the Summer but Toto…?”

Marion raised an eyebrow as she took a sip. “Different, how? In that he’s a man, not a boy?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t deny the truth in her words. “It’s not just that,” you admitted. “He listens to me, if I tell him something, he remembers.”

“That’s important,” Marion nodded. “And rare. I was shocked- I have to say but you look much happier than you did in the Summer and that’s all that matters.” She smiled warmly before adding with a wink, “Plus, I’ve never seen him like this with anyone. You must have done something right.”

You laughed, grateful for her kind words and lack of judgment. Before you could respond, the sound of a car pulling up outside grabbed your attention. You exchanged a glance with Toto, who having poured everyone drinks had just returned to his vacated seat, both aware of who had just arrived. Your stomach tightened as the familiar hum of voices grew louder from the foyer.

“Here we go,” you muttered under your breath as Toto got up once more to greet the final group of guests.

“Is this not going to be awkward?” asked Marion, sipping her wine beside you.

“You don’t even know half of it,” you said resignedly.

“What do you mean?” asked the older woman, intent on gathering the scoop.

“It’s complicated…” you started before Cara chimed in.

“George turned up on her doorstep drunk the other night and declared his love for her. Toto then turned up for a date while George was there and they exchanged some… let’s say words.” Cara said, her eyes gleaming, “All very Bridget Jones.”

“Shit,” said John and Marion in unison, not having been privy to the full situation.

“I knew George and Toto were off with one another,” muttered John, “You were there James, at that meeting last week?”

James leant forward, seemingly less comfortable gossiping about his colleagues and choosing his words carefully, “Yes. I know they were at each other but I thought it was because of the Summer, not that there were more recent developments.”

As the older couples openly discussed your love life you wished you could shrink back into the sofa and disappear. Toto had brushed off your questions about the workplace dynamic between him and George and you wondered if this weekend was his attempt at rebuilding their relationship.

“Did Toto not say anything to you?” asked John.

“Not really,” you said shyly.

“Well, I’m sure it will blow over,” said Cara kindly, spotting your nervous look.

“I hope so,” you said weakly, the truth was that you were tense as you awaited George’s arrival fiddling with your wine glass idly. What would George say when he walked in? Would he ignore you, or would he… no, you forced yourself not to overthink.

Fortunately, your misery was short-lived as Toto reappeared with Sam, George’s race engineer and Darren, another engineer who was a close friend of George’s. Neither of them had brought their girlfriends and you couldn’t help but wonder why George had decided to bring someone when just a week earlier he was busy declaring his love for you.

“Hey,” Sam said, spotting you from across the room, his tone a little frostier than usual, “How’s it going?”

As you got up to greet the two men, knowing that they were going to be less than friendly after what you had done to George, you almost missed George himself wandering in with an extremely tall and thin blonde companion on his arm. She was beautiful, in a polished, flawless way that made you feel immediately self-conscious. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled and she wore a cream ski outfit that looked like it had never seen a day on the slopes. She regarded you with the kind of polite disinterest some reserve for waitstaff, her eyes skimming over you briefly before returning to George. Still, something in the way she pursed her lips sent a cold tingle down your spine.

George’s eyes met yours briefly, a flicker of emotion passing through them. For a moment, the air between you felt charged, like something was still left unsaid and hanging heavy between you. It was, however, a blink and it’s gone moment as he quickly looked away and pulled his companion towards you.

“Hey,” he said somewhat awkwardly, “This is Elisa, Elisa, this is—” George began, but Elisa cut him off, stepping forward.

“Yes I know who she is,” Elisa said sweetly, her eyes flicking to Toto and then back to you. “I’ve heard all about you.” Her words hung in the air, sharp beneath their pleasant surface. There was no mistaking the underlying hostility.

“It’s nice to meet you, Elisa,” you said, forcing a polite smile. You decided it was best to take the high road.

Elisa’s lips curved into a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Likewise.”

“So is it your first time in Austria?” you asked, trying your best to make polite chitchat.

“No. I have been coming here to ski since I was a child.” she said coldly, “I assume it is yours?”

A little taken aback by her continuing cool demeanour, you tried your best to not let her unsettle you, “Yes, it’s so beautiful, I can’t wait to get out tomorrow.”

“Really?” said George, looking surprised, “I thought you hated ski-ing.”

“I don’t hate it, I’m just not any good at it,” you said, trying not to make things even more awkward with Elisa.

“Hmm.” said George, unconvinced, “Well it’s nice to see you. I had better introduce Elisa to the others.”

You nodded as George and Elisa made their way over to where James, John, Cara and Marion were huddled, chatting animatedly. As you stood alone you suddenly felt very out of place but as luck would have it, a hand gently tapped you on the arm and as you turned you were relieved to see Toto and Greta.

Toto must have read your face like a book as he remarked, his voice quiet, “It was always going to be awkward. But better to rip it off like a bandaid. We’re going to have George in our lives for a long time.”

As awkward as you felt in the moment, you knew Toto was right and you were somewhat buoyed by the fact that he was thinking about the future. You nodded and sighed as Greta shot you a look of sympathy, “Don’t worry, once everyone is settled, we are going to show them to their rooms so they can get ready for dinner.”

Smiling at the kind older woman, you were grateful that she too seemed to understand how uncomfortable you felt. Toto had obviously filled her in on the situation and explained the strange group dynamic.

“Hey boss,” came a voice from behind you. It was Sam, “Thanks again for inviting us!”

“That’s quite alright,” said Toto politely, “I hope it makes up for my garage outbursts.”

“One hundred per cent,” said Sam brightly, finishing his wine in a gulp before looking pointedly at you, “Although these last few months you’ve been less grumpy.”

Toto looked less than amused at Sam’s cheeky comment, bristling at the younger man’s words, “Perhaps,” he replied starchily.

Looking suitably chastised, Sam dropped his grin before stepping back slightly, “Well, I guess I should go and say hi to the others.”

“That wasn’t awkward at all,” you said, looking up at Toto.

“Indeed.” said Toto, looking weary before dropping his voice, “I should have explained that George asked me if he could invite his friends from the team and I said yes because I felt guilty if he didn’t have anyone. Then last week he asked if he could bring one more person, Elisa, and by that point, I couldn’t uninvite them.”

“Oh.” you said, “That makes sense.”

Toto grimaced as he saw George, Sam and Darren huddled in chatter, muttering “I knew it, I’m too nice.”

You and Greta laughed in unison, knowing full well that no one would ever accuse Toto of being too nice.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked, looking perplexed.

“No reason.” you said, squeezing his hand, “I’m just messing.”

“I hope so.” Toto said, slipping his arm around your waist, “Okay, let’s gather everybody, Greta.”

FRIDAY EVENING

Having successfully gathered the group to be shown to their rooms by Greta and Andreas, you and Toto had since retired to the master suite to unpack while the guests settled in. There had been grumbles from John and Marion when they discovered that James and Cara had already been given the room with the hot tub, but Toto reminded them that there were always alternative bedrooms with bunkbeds, which quickly silenced them.

Much to your amusement, George and Elisa had to share a bathroom with Sam and Darren, something which had seemed to rile up the starchy blonde.

“Did you purposefully give George and Elisa the shared bathroom room?” you asked Toto as you emptied your suitcases.

Toto grinned, hanging a shirt beside you, “Maybe.”

“You are a very naughty man,” you said, tickled by Toto’s surprisingly petty streak.

"Well, I didn’t hear any complaints from you," he teased, hanging another shirt in the wardrobe.

You laughed, before broaching a more serious topic, "Touché. The thing is, I know it’s weird circumstances but Elisa gives me the heebie jeebies. She did not like me at all, straight off the bat”

Sensing your shift in tone, Toto set down the jumper he was unfolding and came over to stand beside you, his hand resting gently on your back. "Perhaps, but you have to remember, everything she knows about you is from George’s perspective." His voice was low and reassuring. "You don’t need to be best friends with Elisa but as long as George feels fine, we will be fine.

You sighed, leaning into his touch, but a frown tugged at your lips. "Yeah, I guess you’re right. He looks okay.”

Toto nodded, "I hope so, after his… blip." He paused as if remembering George’s final outburst in your flat. "Thank you for coming and putting up with this, I know it’s not easy, but I need the team to be tight for next season.”

“I’m happy to be here,” you said brightly. It was the truth, however weird the situation was, you were grateful that Toto liked you enough to include him in his inner circle.

“I hope so,” said Toto, “Maybe if you like it, we can come back for New Year, just us?”

At that, your eyes lit up, the prospect of a romantic New Year with Toto was more than tempting, “I’d love that.”

"Then it’s done," Toto said, kissing the top of your head. "Now come on, let’s head down to dinner before everybody wonders what’s taking us so long."

– – –

Making your way back downstairs to the dining room, hand in hand with Toto, you were greeted by the mouthwatering scent of Claus’s cooking wafting from the dining room. “That smells incredible,” you said to Toto, your eyes lighting up.

“I told you he’s good,” replied Toto as he led you to where the dining table was set, laden with candles and elegant crystalware, somewhat at odds with the rustic cuisine. Claus had prepared what looked to be a veritable feast of Austrian mountain dishes, with Greta assisting, ladling Glühwein from the large pot you’d seen simmering on the stove earlier.

Your guests were already seated and making polite small talk amongst themselves, but as soon as you and Toto entered, you could feel the shift in the atmosphere. George, Sam and Darren stopped talking almost immediately whilst Elisa shot you another cold glance. Her posture was stiff, her eyes fixed on some point beyond the room as if she were too good for the company she found herself in. George sat next to her, looking more withdrawn than usual, his jaw clenched as he stopped mid-conversation.

Thankfully John broke the tension quickly, “There he is, the man of the hour!” before adding, “And the woman!”

Toto laughed “Have you already been at the Glühwein?”

“Of course he has,” chimed in Marion, elbowing her husband in the ribs as you and Toto took a seat opposite them.

“Why am I not surprised?” muttered Toto, shaking his head in faux horror, “Are you all happy with your rooms?”

Resounding yes’ came back, although you couldn’t help but notice Elisa nudging George at the other end of the table. Having been with him for so long, you knew from his dark look that he was not thrilled but was biting his tongue. You wondered if he was trying to be on his best behaviour with Toto as it was not like him to keep his feelings in. Toto hadn’t seemed to notice but you made a mental note to keep an eye. You wondered why he had even brought Elisa as he didn’t seem overly enamoured with her, but you supposed it wasn’t your place to worry.

“Any problems, let me know,” said Toto before gesturing at the food in the centre of the table, “And most importantly, bon appetit!”

As the table came alive with plates and utensils clinking, arms suddenly scrambled and you weren’t sure where to start. Fortunately, Toto noticed your reticence and took your plate, “Here, my arms are longer, what would you like to try?”

“A bit of everything I guess,” you said, amused when you saw that George was watching Toto and started to do the same thing for Elisa.

“Here you go,” Toto said kindly, setting a heavily laden plate down in front of you, having lived up to his promise.

“Toto!” you exclaimed, “That is way too much!”

“That’s what she said,” came a voice sniggering from your side, low enough for you to hear but not Toto. You turned to shoot Darren a dirty look, “Grow up.” you said, not amused by George’s friend’s comment.

Toto raised his eyebrow as he heard your retort but didn’t say anything, now helping himself to an equally healthy portion of Claus’ cooking.

You could see Elisa fussing across from you, not happy with George’s serving skills. Something was off with her but you tried to not dwell on it and focus on the man beside you instead.

Snapping you out of your internal thoughts, Darren turned once again to you, his voice now just loud enough to draw the attention of the table, "So, what’s it like dating the boss?"

"Yeah," Sam chimed in, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Do you two talk about spreadsheets and racing strategy over breakfast, or?" He trailed off as if waiting for someone else to join in.

You shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Toto. You saw his jaw tighten for a brief moment, but he quickly regained his composure. "No spreadsheets at breakfast," Toto said evenly, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of authority that made Sam and Darren hesitate. "But if you’re curious, we can schedule a meeting to discuss it after the Winter Break."

The table went quiet for a second, before John and James laughed, appreciating Toto diffusing the situation. Still, you could feel George’s eyes on you from across the table, his expression unreadable.

"Oh, come on, leave them alone!" Cara said with a playful grin. "They have better things to do than talk shop.”

She winked at you and while her teasing was intended to lighten the mood, it only seemed to irritate George further. He shifted in his seat, his glass clattering against his coaster a little too forcefully. Elisa, noticing his reaction, narrowed her eyes and gave you a pointed look, her lips curling into a faint smirk as if she found the whole thing highly amusing. You smiled back at her, trying not to let her rile you up.

Toto leaned over and whispered in your ear, his voice low. "Ignore those guys. They’re just bored."

You nodded, forcing a smile as the conversation around the table shifted to the plans for skiing the next day.

– – –

Just as the laughter around the table started to feel natural again, the lights flickered dramatically and then went out entirely, plunging the room into near darkness. There was a collective gasp, followed by murmurs of confusion. Almost immediately Toto grabbed your hand, instantly reminding you of the power outage on the yacht all those months ago.

“Well, this is cosy,” Marion said.

“Maybe it’s just the weather,” John suggested, but as you peered out the window, you saw nothing but swirling snow, the mountain outside completely engulfed by the storm.

“Looks like we’re having a candlelit dinner, whether we like it or not,” Toto quipped, his voice cutting through the whispers.

“Romantic, huh?” John added with a laugh, trying to keep the mood light.

"Indeed, but maybe it's more than just the weather," Toto murmured beside you, his voice calm but with an edge of concern. He stood up, squeezing your hand once more and addressed the group. "Everyone stay here. I'll check with Andreas to see what’s going on."

As he stepped away, you heard a few nervous laughs ripple through the table. The flickering candles provided a soft glow, barely illuminating the faces around you. You could just about make out Elisa in the semi-darkness, looking somewhat less irritated now, her eyes darting toward George, who was uncharacteristically quiet.

John, always the entertainer, clapped his hands together. "Well, if we're snowed in, at least we've got food and wine!" He reached for the Glühwein pot, pouring himself another glass, “Anyone else?”

Marion chuckled, "Don’t mind if I do.”

“Didn’t this happen on Toto’s yacht too?” asked Cara.

“It did!” said John, with a laugh “Somebody hasn’t been paying their power bills.”

“And who would that be?” came a bemused voice from the doorway. Toto was back.

“Some Wolff man?” retorted John, nervous laughter ringing through the group.

“I’ll have to find him and have a strong word,” said Toto, coming back to his seat.

Elisa crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "How long do you think the power will be out?" she asked, her voice sharper than it needed to be. You could tell she wasn’t as comfortable with the situation as she was pretending.

Toto replied, his expression serious, "The storm’s knocked out power for the whole area. Andreas is already working on getting the backup generator running, but it could take a while."

George sighed, rubbing his temples. "Of course." He glanced at Elisa, who shot him a withering look. Even in the low light, it was obvious they were both on edge.

“Relax George,” said James, “We don’t need electricity to have a good time.”

“You know, this reminds me of those old-fashioned dinners.” John added, “The kind where people actually talk to each other.”

“Yeah,” Cara agreed, “It’s not all bad. We’re not just staring at our phones.”

You caught Elisa’s eye as she glanced around the room, clearly uncomfortable. You decided to take a chance and try to bridge the gap. “So Elisa, you mentioned you ski a lot? Where do you normally go?”

Elisa looked slightly taken aback but seemed to soften a bit. “Yes, I grew up skiing. Mostly in Zermatt, sometimes in Lech.”

Not clued up on ski resorts, Toto saved you, “Nice, which do you prefer?”

Elisa warmed up as she seemed to appreciate you both taking an interest “Actually Lech, the food is better.”

Toto laughed, “That’s the correct answer, not that I am biased.”

You smiled politely, hoping to keep the conversation flowing. “That’s interesting, I’ve always found trying new food to be one of the best parts of travelling.”

George, who had been virtually silent, chimed in. “One hundred percent! Do you remember that mad restaurant in Brazil?”

Fuck. Elisa’s face dropped. Why did George have to bring up the past, even if it was seemingly innocent?

“Which one was that?” asked Toto, oblivious to George’s faux pas.

“Oh, it was just me and George.” you said, hoping to end the conversation there, “We got brave and ventured out.”

“I remember.” Sam said, unable to resist stirring the pot, “We thought you’d been kidnapped.”

“Not a racist stereotype at all…” you muttered. Sam was starting to irritate you.

“But we survived hey?” said George, “I’ll have to take you there next year Elisa.”

“Lovely,” said Elisa flatly, her frosty demeanour returning. You tried to shoot a warning look across the table at George but you knew your efforts were futile in the poor light. For someone so intelligent, sometimes he really could be dense.

Fortunately, Cara and Marion had already started discussing more about tomorrow’s plans and your worries were once more drowned in idle chatter.

– – –

With dinner winding down, Claus having served an equally generous dessert, the lights were still not back on. Toto had disappeared for a while to investigate further and shortly returned, addressing the group, “Andreas is still getting the generator up and running. In the meantime, how about we make the most of it? We can head to the games room and play some backgammon and have some drinks if you’d like?”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Marion said, her eyes lighting up. “I haven’t played backgammon in ages!”

“I’m game,” John agreed with a grin. “But I warn you, I haven’t lost a backgammon match in… well, let’s say a long time.”

James chuckled, “That’s a bold claim. Just don’t let it go to your head. I remember last time you got so cocky, you almost flipped the board.”

John winked. “That’s the strategy. Get them thinking about my ego instead of their game plan.”

Toto rolled his eyes, “I suppose I should expect a full-scale rematch then?”

James nodded. “Oh, absolutely. And don’t think I’m going easy on you, Toto.”

Meanwhile, you were chatting with Marion, Cara and Elisa, trying to keep things light.

Marion took the opportunity to steer the conversation. “So, Elisa, do you have any favourite board games, or is it just skiing and fine dining for you?”

Elisa smiled, “Actually, I enjoy a good board game now and then. Monopoly, Clue, the usual. I am not great at backgammon though.”

“Rubbish!” interjected George, “You beat me all the time.”

“Maybe you’re not that great?” countered Cara, the older woman smiling, earning a laugh from Elisa. She was most definitely warming up.

– – –

As the group made their way to the games room, the atmosphere felt lighter. John and James were already debating the rules of backgammon, while Toto was busy setting up the board. The room filled with the sound of cheerful chatter and clinking glasses, the earlier tension slowly melting away.

Eventually, John leaned over the backgammon board, contemplating it with a mock-serious expression. “Alright, let’s get this started. And just so everyone knows, I’m not playing for fun. I’m playing to win.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? I’m not so sure about that one.”

Toto, who had just finished setting up, grinned. “Careful, James, he is good.”

George, finally getting into the competitive spirit, added with a smirk, “Don’t worry, I’ll be the one to put John in his place.”

Elisa, now more relaxed, sat down next to Marion, who was watching as John and James took their seats opposite each other, Toto and Sam beside John and George and Darren beside James. “I’ve missed this,” Marion said, looking at the board with nostalgia. “It’s nice to see them getting along again.”

Cara nudged you playfully. “Indeed.”

As the game progressed, the men’s competitive spirits were evident. John and James were locked in a fierce head-to-head, throwing playful taunts as each move was made. “Did you see that?” John exclaimed, looking triumphant.

James rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Let’s see how you handle my next move.”

George, who was actively engaged, started whispering in James’ ear. Likely discussing his next strategic move.

As the evening wore on and the laughter and chatter continued, it never failed to make you laugh at how competitive these guys could be outside of work. Even Elisa couldn’t fight laughter at some of George’s more creative burns. Eventually, as the majority of the group had played, the evening was naturally drawing to a close.

Sensing this, Toto glanced around the room with a warm smile. “How about we call it a night? I think we’ve all earned some rest. It’s an early start tomorrow remember.”

The group amiable to his suggestion, the backgammon board was carefully packed away for another evening and the group slowly dispersed. Bidding the last of his friends goodnight, Toto took your hand and led you back to your room. The storm outside still raged and the power was yet to come back but Andreas had assured you all that it would be back imminently.

– – –

Settling into bed with Toto’s arms around you, the lack of electricity and whirling storm outside brought memories flooding back of the night when the power cut out on Toto’s yacht and you’d found yourself pressed up against him in a cupboard. It had been the first time you’d considered that he might reciprocate your crush, his body betraying him as you’d found yourself nestled against him in close quarters.

"You know…" you began softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you tilted your head up to look at him. "This kind of reminds me of that night on the yacht."

Toto’s hand, which had been tracing lazy circles on your back, paused. A low chuckle escaped him, and he glanced down at you with a knowing look. "The cupboard," he said, amusement in his voice. “When you accidentally ended up pressed against me, half-naked?”

You smirked, your fingers tracing his arm that was draped over you. “Accidentally?” you teased back. “I seem to remember you pulling me in there. I had no choice in the matter.”

“To keep you safe from things flying around the boat,” Toto said, eyes glinting with mischief. “Though I’ll admit, it didn’t exactly feel like the safest situation after a while.” His gaze dropped to your lips for a second and the air between you thickened.

You shifted slightly, turning to lie across his chest, your thigh brushing his body under the sheets. “Mmm, I do remember you being a little… distracted.” You ran your hand down his bare chest, feeling his muscles tense under your touch, desire in your voice.

Toto groaned softly, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured, "Is that how you remember it?" His tone was smooth, but there was a flicker of heat in his eyes. "I recall you being the one pressed so close against me that neither of us had much of a choice.”

A soft laugh escaped you as you tilted your head, giving him better access as his lips skimmed down your neck. “It was a tight space. What did you expect?” you whispered, feeling the heat between your bodies growing with each touch.

Toto’s mouth hovered just above your skin, his breath warm, sending shivers down your spine. “I expected us to talk about it afterwards,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “but we never did.”

You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze, your heart racing as you saw the intensity in his eyes. “Maybe I didn’t want to talk about it,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe I liked the tension.”

His lips quirked into a smile, his hand slipping under the covers, fingers ghosting over your bare skin. “Did you now?” he murmured, leaning towards you until your lips were barely an inch apart. “What about now? Should we talk about it? Or should we do something about it?”

Your breath hitched and before you could respond, Toto’s lips met yours, slow at first, teasing, but quickly deepening with an intensity that made your heart pound. His hands roamed over your body as if making up for all the time you’d spent dancing around each other in the past.

“You’re not flustered this time?” you whispered, your voice filled with a hint of playfulness as you broke the kiss for a moment, catching your breath.

Toto smirked, his hand sliding up to cup your face as he looked into your eyes, his gaze dark and full of heat. “Oh, I’m flustered,” he admitted, his thumb brushing your lower lip. “But I’m not letting it stop me this time.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, his body pressing against you. You murmured between kisses, “I’m glad we’re not stuck in a cupboard this time.”

Toto let out a low laugh, pulling back just enough to look down at you, his eyes dark with desire. “I’ll admit, this is much better,” he said, his voice husky as his fingers traced your curves.

You bit your lip, your heart racing as his hands worked their way lower, his touch setting every nerve on fire. “So... you’re not planning on stopping this time?”

Toto’s gaze flickered with hunger, his lips grazing the corner of your mouth before trailing down your neck. “Not unless you want me to,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin, sending shivers racing down your spine.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed down your collarbone and you tugged him back to face you, your voice low and teasing. “I wish you’d just taken me in the cupboard.”

Toto groaned softly against your lips, pulling you closer, his hands gripping your hips as if he never wanted to let go. “God, I wish I had. It would have been so easy, with you in that little nightdress,” he breathed, his voice thick with desire.

“It’s okay,” you said, letting go fully, “You can make up for it now.”

His lips found yours again, and you quickly lost yourselves in a tangle of limbs, the storm outside almost forgotten as you both melted into each other.

Taglist: @prettiest-at-the-party @noooway555 @annewithaneofthegreengable @xoscar03 @totowolfffcheco @justzluv @kravitzwhore @bborra @a-beaverhausen@amandadesantasworld @formulaal

#toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #toto wolff x y/n #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #george russell x reader #George Russell x you #yachtgirlsummer

119 notes · View notes

thatesqcrush · 8 days

Text

Beautiful Sinner (Priest! Barba AU), Prologue & Ch. 1

Priest! Barba x f! reader | SVU au

Rating: NSFW for language, graphic smut, basic desecration of religious upbringing.

WC: 8.6K

AN: I am so going to hell. One way ticket for lil old me.

AN2: Big thanks to @beccabarba for reviewing and being my soundboard.

Prologue:

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been, It's been too long since my last confession.”

“Go ahead,” the voice behind the screen began. “Tell me your sins.”

You shivered at the tambor of the words spoken. And you know that your sins were also their sins.

“I'm not seeking penance for what I've done, Father. I'm asking forgiveness for what I'm about to do,” you clarified. Your voice was soft.

“That’s not how this works,” the familiar voice replied. “What exactly are you going to do?”

You let out a shaky breath and heat flushed your cheeks. You began to unbutton your blouse. “I think you already know, Father.”

— Ch. 1—

*six months earlier*

It was a blistering summer day in Manhattan, the sun beating down relentlessly, casting sharp shadows on towering skyscrapers. The pavement radiated intense heat, mirages shimmering above the asphalt street. The air was thick with a suffocating blend of exhaust fumes, unpicked garbage bags and urban heat. City dwellers sought refuge in shaded pockets, and the city seemed to pulsate with the collective desire for relief from the oppressive heat.

It also happened to be your first weekend in your new home-a nine-story walk up in Hudson Heights.

You received your pink slip and had to make the hard decision to move. Your aunt was subletting her apartment while she traveled across the Borneo rainforests. Transitioning to a more modest apartment was a challenging shift. You had to adapt to a different community vibe and recalibrate your lifestyle expectations. You had introverted tendencies but you tried to remain resilient, focusing on navigating this life change as a time to reset.

You opened the window and stuck your head out. Spanish music played outside loudly and the normally traffic filled street was closed, with people milling about. It was the annual block party for the neighborhood, with vendors and entertainment alike. The food smelled wonderful and your stomach growled in response. The sound of a knock on the door interrupted your thoughts. You ducked your head, making sure to avoid giving yourself a concussion. “Coming!” You called out as your bare feet padded the floor. You knew who it was - Maria, your next door neighbor who you met on move-in day. Maria was friendly with your aunt and you knew that she had promised your aunt that she’d keep an eye on you. She was close in age to you and immediately offered you a helping hand, helping you bring up boxes. You thanked her with pizza and beer and the two of you were on your way to becoming fast friends.

When Maria had texted you earlier in the week,” ‘Block party! Want to come with?’ it was an easy yes.

You opened the door and let Maria in. “Just need shoes and my bag. Help yourself if you want anything,” you called out, heading back towards your bedroom.

You heard your fridge open, the cacophonous sounds of beverages clanking together followed by the click and hiss of a can opening. Soon enough, you were both on your way.

–

Time flew and you found yourself really enjoying yourself. Eventually Maria had to leave - she was meeting her boyfriend and his sister to head into Queens to catch the Mets game.

You were still beyond hot, the humidity was thick, almost choking you. You pulled out a claw clip from your bag and pinned your hair up. Just even having the damp strands off the nape of your neck provided some, albeit, minimal relief. In that moment, you missed your pixie cut from years prior.

The local fire department had opened the fire hydrant and there was a gaggle of kids playing in the water. You looked at the water longingly before you internally said ‘fuck it,’ and ran through the open fire hydrant. The force of the water was stronger - and colder - than you had anticipated and you let out a shriek. You ran through it once more - this time not as close to the hydrant - enjoying the water washing over your overheated skin. Sufficiently cooled off, you continued on your way through the neighborhood.

There was a generalized area with a tent set up for community outreach. Curiosity piqued, you moseyed on over. You picked up a pamphlet - St. Blaise Church. You were religious as a child, it was as how your parents raised you. As an adult, you found yourself straying away, not agreeing with the church’s ideals which contradicted your more liberal beliefs. Sometimes, though, you found yourself missing it - especially during Christmas and Easter, when the congregation would meet up together in mass throngs. There was something about community that made you wistful.

“Interested in the Church?” a voice questioned. You looked up and you locked eyes with a handsome man. That was an understatement. He was obscenely good looking. Almost as if it hurt to look at him straight on. You felt a jolt straight to your core. No one should look as good as he did.

He took your breath away with his green eyes and thick, fitted build. His hair was dark with flecks of gray at the temples. His salt and pepper beard neatly framed his jawline. The man gave you a smile, his eyes crinkling. Crow's feet gracefully fanned out from the corners of his eyes, evidence of a life rich in laughter and stories. Dressed in comfortable yet stylish summer attire, he exuded a casual sophistication. He wore a fitted polo with fitted shorts that were borderline criminal. The polo was slightly unbuttoned, which allowed for a hint of chest hair along sun-kissed skin to peek through. Immediately your brain went to the gutter.

“Miss?”

You blinked. It was as if your brain broke and you had no idea as to how to respond. He raised a brow and inwardly you melted, feeling warmth bloom through you.

“Uh, sorry. The heat is just getting to me,” Nervous laughter accompanied your lame excuse.

“No worries, it happens to the best of us. I’m Rafael Barba.” He offered his hand and you took it. As you shook his hand, warmth bloomed through you.

He offered you a beer from a cooler and you happily accepted. And over beer, you find yourself enamored with every word from his lips. You suspected Rafael was involved with the church with how passionately he spoke about it. And when he invited you to attend the Adult Fellowship group after Sunday’s mass, you found yourself agreeing.

“...the fellowship hour following the Liturgy provides opportunities to develop friendships, meet parishioners or simply exchange information of mutual interest. There are monthly birthday celebrations and seasonal events, such as Christmas and Easter parties, as well as a spring picnic. We are always looking for more—”

Rafael’s cell rang and he apologized before excusing himself. You nodded and rocked on your heels, once again taking in the scene before you as you finished your beer.

This new neighborhood was already looking up.

—

As Rafael took the call, he couldn’t help but turn around to look at you once more. His eyes raked over your form, fully drinking you in. He swallowed hard, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He could feel a slight stirring in his pants, and furiously shook his head.

‘No,’ his brain argued. ‘No.’

He was not being turned on right now. Rafael tried to push the thought away and turned his attention back to the phone.

After the Householder case and resigning from the D.A.’s office, Rafael decided he needed to get away from it all. He spent the next three months holed up in his apartment, avoiding anyone and everyone.

Even if he didn’t want to - there was no one who would understand what he did. His mother was horrified and stopped talking to him. He received more than one gloating, sneering call from the recidivist he should have blocked — Alex Muños. Even Yelina spurned him.

He was truly alone.

So what was an acquitted, former ADA to do?

He prayed.

He had lapsed from religion. After working in the DA’s office and seeing all the especially heinous, depraved, evil out there - he was convinced there was no God.

He couldn’t explain why he did what he did - he did what he had to. Something called him to do it.

Was it God? Was it the Devil?

He wasn’t sure. So he prayed some more.

And then one night it came to him. The calling from God.

After a lengthy period of hemming and hawing, weighing the pros and cons, he contacted the local diocesan vocational director and began the requisite training. That training looked like pre-theology for 2 years followed by a tenure at a major seminary where he studied languages—some of which he already knew -Latin, Spanish, Greek. He also took graduate level studies in theology, including Doctrine, Canon Law, Church History, Scripture, and Liturgy.

He called St. Blaise’s home for three years. He found joy in community and spreading the Gospel. He gave to the community as much as he could possibly give. He thought it would be weird - that people would recognize him and call him a baby killer. And if they did - they never did it to his face. Rather, the community embraced him.

He was still busy as ever - mass was everyday, there were funerals, baptisms and weddings. He did outreach with the youth and began a fellowship for parishioners who were in a similar age cohort. Having saved quite a penny as an ADA, he lived off his savings. A priest’s salary was meager and he still had to pay taxes. So his salary sat in another account which went towards that.

The summer block party was an annual event, but very nubile - only in its third year. It’s where he felt he could give most back and the community could truly come together.

He hadn’t felt an attraction to any form of secular life in ages.

Until you just now.

He could use the excuse that he was a man after all. A man who used to be sexually active with both men and women alike. But before you, he was able to steer his thoughts away and put that energy into something else for the betterment of the church and community.

And then you came along, soaking yourself as you sprinted through a pump before going back for more.

His eyes traveled over you again. You were soaked, the material of your clothing sticking to you. Your tank top - now sheer - showing off your nipples which were diamond hard due to the combination of the cold water and air.

‘Fucking hell, get a grip.’

But he turned around to get yet another look, while yes’ing the person on the phone. His eyes trailed over the shorts you wore, perfectly molded to your ass and thighs. The rest of your legs were equally toned and for a split second, he could imagine them wrapped around his hips.

‘Oh for fuck’s sake.’

He wanted to talk to you more but this phone call ate up his time. Finally after what seemed like forever, he was free again. He decided at that moment, he needed to clear his head, so he sat back down and willed his cock to deflate. He closed his eyes and was about to cover his face with a hat when you interrupted him again.

“So what’s a lapsed Catholic to do if she wants to rejoin the church?”

Rafael lifted the hat off his face and sat fully. He cocked a brow. “Well, you can start by coming to mass tomorrow.”

“I suppose,” you sighed. “It’s been awhile.”

“How long is a while?” Rafael inquired gently. He gave you a kind smile. You looked away, embarrassed. Heat flooded your cheeks.

“Years,” you supplied.

Rafael nodded and then cocked his head. “Are you familiar with the parable about Jesus and the lost sheep?”

You nodded. “I’m the one that Jesus is looking for?”

Rafael nodded. “Maybe. But what about coming to mass first and checking it out before making any commitments?”

You nodded again. “I’ll think about it.”

“Hey stranger! Long time no see!” a familiar voice called out, interrupting the conversation.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned to see Maria, now accompanied by her boyfriend.

“I thought you were going to the city,” you asked, chucking your beer in the garbage can next to you.

“Changed our minds. Plus Robbie’s sister is being a little bitch.”

That earned a ‘hey!’ from Robbie before he acquiesced. “Yeah, she is being a little bitch.”

You turned back around but Rafael was nowhere to be seen. You looked at the pamphlet once more before folding it and tucking it away for later.

“I cannot believe you spoke to Fr. Barba like that,” Maria continued.

“Wait - what? He’s a priest?”

Maria nodded. She then pointed to your still soaked appearance. “You can see your tits through your tanktop. Wrong day to not wear a bra. You look like you could win a wet-tshirt contest.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot in embarrassment as you looked down and realized Maria was in fact correct.

“Probably thanked God - that celibate life must be rough,” Robbie laughed. “He’s been a priest for how long? I can’t imagine not having sex.”

You weren’t listening though, too consumed in your embarrassment and attraction. Of course the hottest man on the planet is a fucking priest. ‘And of course I would basically flash him.’

Later that evening at home, you poured some kibble in a bowl for your cat and heated up a quick meal. As you waited for your food to finish, you rifled through your closet for something to wear to church. Your eyes landed on a sundress that you knew was probably much too short for church. You frowned and kept looking until you found the perfect outfit.

You told Maria that you were going to attend mass. You had already promised the hot priest you’d come to the fellowship group. If you didn’t show, then you would be a liar, and you couldn’t lie to a priest - right?

—

The following morning you found yourself at church with Maria.

“I want to sit up in the front,” you whined as the both of you shuffled into the pew.

“I’m too hungover to sit in the front,” Maria grumbled. “You think I can get away with leaving my sunglasses on?”

You rolled your eyes. “This is probably the one mass you can get away with that shit,” you replied before slapping your mouth with your palm. “I didn’t mean to curse, shit, oh no, God damnit!”

Maria laughed at your foul mouthed word salad. “You can confess to Fr. Barba after.”

The organ began to play and you stood. You motioned to Maria to stand and she ignored you, instead choosing to rest her head on the back of the bench of the pew in front of her. You watched as the altar servers carried in the items needed for mass - Cross, the processional candles, incense and Bible. Your eyes followed as Fr. Barba walked behind. He wore green vestments and you vaguely recalled that the color of the robes indicated where you were along in the church calendar.

Mass went as typically as you remembered. You sang from the hymnal, prayed along the congregation, and actually listened to the homily instead of daydreaming about being anywhere else. Fr. Barba was straightforward, discussing Jesus’ anger.

“Paul commands us in Ephesians 4:26, be angry and do not sin; don’t let the sun set on your anger. I’ve heard a lot of sermons on the “but do not sin” part: anger can give opportunity to the devil and birth all manner of hell in relationships. I’ve also heard a lot of sermons on the “do not let the sun go down on your anger.” But I haven’t heard any sermons on these two words: be angry.”

Fr. Barba paused before continuing. “Be angry. As we look upon a world of injustice and abuse, even in the church, we can learn how to be angry in love together. And we learn this the way Paul did: from Jesus. Jesus got angry. Regularly. And we see a pattern in his anger: whenever someone vulnerable or powerless suffered injustice at the hands of the strong and powerful, Jesus opposed this injustice with loving anger.”

The Liturgy of Word concluded and then transitioned into the Liturgy of the Eucharist. You watched intently as he performed prayers and rites in Latin that had existed for thousands of years.

It was time for Communion but you didn’t feel up to receiving. So instead, you just watched. As you scanned the church, your eyes locked with Rafael’s. He was watching you, a frown on his face. You felt your cheeks grow hot once more and you turned away out of embarrassment.

Mass concluded shortly after. The fellowship hour was immediately afterwards, held in the basement of the church. Maria had zero interest in attending so you parted ways before heading down. The smell of incense and something very “churchly” permeated in the air as you walked down the dimly lit stairs.

The basement was as expected, acoustic tile ceiling, fluorescent lights, that unique slight churchy smell, boxes of various items, beige metal folding chairs, long tables, pillars in the middle of the room holding up the sanctuary one floor up. There was a life-size nativity in the back, with a Joseph whose hand was broken and an unfortunate beheaded sheep statue. Someone was setting up a coffee maker and someone else was plating store-bought cupcakes.

You chit-chatted with some congregants, majority of whom you met at the block party.

As you made a cup of coffee, you were unaware of Fr. Barba entering the room. It was only when you heard his voice and the sound of people shuffling to sit. You turned, sipping your coffee as you did so. No, Fr. Barba was no longer in those ceremonial robes that hid away everything. Instead, he wore fitted dark denim with a black shirt and his collar.

Your eyes tracked him as you continued to speak with others. You made sure to glance back to the folks you were speaking with - implying you were listening when you really weren’t. You watched as he moved easily through the room, greeting people, making jokes. What a waste of good looks.

People began to slowly sit, the chatting quietly winding down. Eventually, you took a seat. Everyone sat in a circle and you felt as if you were in an AA meeting.

“Welcome,” Fr. Barba began. “Thank you all for taking the time to come today.” He turned his gaze to you and stretched his arm in your direction. “We have a newcomer.” He gave you a small smile, his eyes crinkling in the corner.

You gave a small smile and waved, before introducing yourself.

There was a more in depth discussion of the readings from the mass. You hung onto every word Rafael said. Fr. Barba, Fr. Barba, Fr. Barba you chanted in your mind as if you were trying to ensure that stayed in your mind.

He’s a priest you told yourself. He’s Father - not Daddy.

—

You became a regular at church and also at the afternoon fellowship. You were usually quiet, opting to listen more so than anything. Today was different.

Fr. Barba asked the group to share their most favorite parts of scripture; he had anticipated the majority of responses - Genesis, one of the Gospels, Proverbs. Your comment made his stomach flip.

“I personally enjoy Song of Songs,” you offered. “It celebrates sexual love.”

“Jewish tradition reads it as an allegory of the relationship between God and Israel,” Fr. Barba offered.

“In Christianity, it is read as an allegory of Christand his bride, the Church,” you countered.

“I am my beloved’s, and his desire is for me,” Fr. Barba responded.

You flushed. “His mouth is sweetness itself; he is altogether lovely. It is an unabashedly sensuous, even at times quite erotic, paean to love,” you continued as you leafed through the Bible you held.

“No matter what interpretation you choose to believe, the book is a powerful and profound reminder of the beauty and depth of God’s love for us. It is a beautiful book that has been celebrated for centuries and one that can still bring joy and comfort to believers today.”

There was a pause and then Rafael clapped his hands. “I think that’s enough to stop for now. Thank you all for coming. I’ll see you all next week.”

You hung back, helping to clean up. Slowly the group dissipated, leaving you and Fr. Barba alone.

“You’re still here.” Fr. Barba’s voice was thick and dark. You shivered in response.

“I really enjoyed myself today,” you replied softly as you approached him. You closed the gap between you and him. You could press your hands to his chest if you wanted to.

Oh how you wanted to.

Your nipples strained against the confines of your top. You wanted to drop to your knees and show your worth - take another type of communion.

‘Behave,’ you told yourself.

“Did you now?”

His expressive, bright green eyes are now dark and stormy. His jaw is tight. You swallow hard.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I won’t have it,” he continues. His voice is clipped and you shivered in response.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m not playing at anything Father. I’ll see you next week.”

Rafael didn’t reply. He watched as you turned about and walked away with a deliberate sway of your hips. His eyes were focused on your ass. All he wanted to do in that moment was to haul you over a pew and spank your ass for your insolence. His cock ached and twitched in his pants.

You turned back towards him, a full smile gracing your face. “I’m really looking forward to being a member of this congregation.”

Once you were gone, Rafael sat down on a folded chair dismayed.

He was so screwed.

God almighty help him.

—

It was a delicate dance. There was a part of you that enjoyed toeing the line with Fr. Barba. And part of you felt a smidge guilty. But fuck, he was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him.

As Fr. Barba. Well, you weren’t alone in the desperate want and lust you were feeling.

He played with you in his fantasies. He knew what he was getting into when he became a priest. He swore to God to not know another’s body. It was the least he could do considering he killed baby Drew.

He wasn’t supposed to have these kind of thoughts.

It had been so long and he was under your spell.

After the group meeting, he had to hustle back to his home - a small home attached to the rectory. He made quick work of removing his clothes. He hissed as grasped his aching cock. Stroke, stroke, stroke.

Self pleasure was also a no-no.

Masturbation involved lust. It’s to use another person for your own selfish pleasure. The person becomes an object and it denigrates their dignity as a human being.

When he was around you, he wanted to throw everything into the wind. The image of your soaked tits haunted him. He threw his head back as he continued to jerk himself. Desire. You made him fucking feral.

He imagined kissing you after the meeting the second you and him were alone.

His lips crushed against yours. He pressed your back against the wall, his knee parting your legs.

One hand tangled in your hair, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot of your skin.

It was as if you released a part of him that he had kept tucked away for so long.

He stripped away your top, before mouthing your tits before dropping to his knees. Your hand moved through his hair.

“Taste me,” you’d beg. You’d beg so nicely and who was he to deny his lamb?

He imagined grabbing your ass, pulling your dripping pussy to his mouth. You would drape a leg over his shoulder, grounding yourself hard against his mouth.

“Fuck, right there. Just like that.”

He would put his thumb on your clit, rubbing circles as he pushed his tongue inside, tasting, licking, and sucking.

“You like that?”

“Yes,” you’d moan. “Don’t stop. Oh God, I am going to come. Please, fuck me.”

He would undo his belt and drop his pants, grasping his cock in his hand. He’d rub the head of his cock along your folds, teasing you until neither one of you could stand it before burying himself deep inside of you.

“I want everything you’ve got. I want to feel it all.”

“Is that what my little lamb wants? To be fucked hard like a whore?”

“Yes,” you’d beg. “Please.”

“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”

“Come for me little lamb,” he’d encourage. You’d fall apart at his words. He could imagine how your wet, soft, pussy would suck his cock in, deeper and deeper. He would imagine thrusting deep and hard, his cock dragging against your sweet spot. He’d come hard, deep inside of you, his come painting your walls.

In reality he grunted and groaned as his cock kicked. He came all over his hand and belly. He panted, waiting for his breath to even out.

‘Shit.’

—

It was a gloomy Tuesday morning as Rafael worked in his office. Homilies were a lot like closing arguments. Instead of trying to sway the jury, he had to connect with his congregants. Instead of evidence, it was the gospel.

He was distracted. His mind kept wandering to you. Were you some kind of a test for him?

You were under his skin. An itch that couldn’t be scratched. Or stroked. You had consumed his thoughts.

He tore the yellow sheet off the pad before crumpling it.

Rafael tried very hard to live a holy life, especially as he had known what life was like, could be like, outside of the church.

And until now, through God’s grace, he had done very well.

He looked at the time. Confession was to start soon. Confession wasn’t popular. Usually before the bigger high holidays, people would come in droves. But a regular, run of the mill Tuesday? Not a chance.

He had his regulars though, who would come without fail. They were long standing members of the community. Being bilingual was a big boost for the church.

Rafael put on his collar, and changed into dark slacks from jeans and then headed out.

—-

You peeked into the booth. Seeing that it was empty, you made your way in and sat down.

“Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It’s been… um, years since my last confession.”

Rafael was stunned. It was you.

‘Focus.’

You began with some menial, ordinary sins. Rafael focused on what you were saying, ignoring the throb of his cock.

“And, of course, this… all leads to the most wicked one.”

Rafael swallowed hard. “Go on.”

“I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Me?” Rafael questioned. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’ “What do you mean?”

“You’re so kind and thoughtful. I probably shouldn’t say this because it’s so inappropriate, but you’re so fucking handsome. And it’s resulted in some wicked behavior.”

“Wicked how?” His hands ball into fists before he grabs the tops of his thighs hard, trying to steel his thoughts.

“I— I’m sorry. I need to go.” You’re stammering over your words, your heart racing.

Rafael heard the panic in your voice and he frowned. The confessional creaked as you stood. Rafael was filled with an overwhelming need to get you to stay. “We all sin. Including myself. God made us imperfect and can he really get to be disappointed in us when we do imperfect things?”

“I— I’ve never felt the way I do about you with anyone else. And I am filled with despair about wanting what I can’t have,” you reply softly. “What can I do about this? Can I say 10 Hail Mary’s or something?”

You continue. “And can I be absolved if I don’t feel bad about what I’ve done or said in the past? They’re all things I wanted to do.”

Rafael wracked his mind on what to say.

And before he could, he heard you open the door and leave. He stood quickly and pushed open the curtain. But it was too late. You were already gone.

—

Sunday mass came like clockwork.

As Rafael led mass, he scanned the pews for you. He was disappointed when he didn’t see you. He saw your friend and he made a mental note to talk with her afterwards.

“Fr. Barba, great service,” Maria commented as she shook Fr. Barba’s hand.

“Thank you. I- I am glad you came. You had been coming with your friend—“

“Oh! You mean — yeah, she couldn’t come today. She had some stuff to take care of. She’s new to the area and I know she could really use the community support,” Maria replied. She looked past Rafael and smiled brightly. “Oh there she is!”

Maria called your name. Rafael turned around and he saw you across the street. You were dressed more conservatively and he felt a wave of disappointment.

You half jogged across the street and before Rafael knew it, you had materialized in front of him.

“Hi,” you greeted as you tucked your hair behind your ear. “Sorry to have missed mass.”

“It’s okay,” Rafael laughed. “It’s not like God is keeping tabs.”

You smiled. Maria turned to you. “Was just telling Fr. Barba how you could use some community.”

“Uh,” you blanched. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Well, help is always needed at the community center or food pantry,” Rafael offered. “Meet plenty of people that way.”

“Yeah, sure. I - I saw in the bulletin you were looking for someone to go over your books.”

Rafael shifted. “Um, I was looking more for a CPA—“

“Well you are in luck!” Maria hit your arm. “You’ve got your own CPA here.”

“I-I am not a CPA. I was treasurer of my sorority years ago,” you explained. “But I lost my job and I need money,” you shrugged. “That’s all.”

Rafael sighed and rubbed his neck. As much as Olivia was a bleeding heart, he was too, especially with his roots. “Um, stop by the rectory sometime next week and we can talk it through.”

You smiled brightly. “Oh that would be great! Really! Thank you.”

Rafael nodded. You turned to Maria. “We have to go. Reservations?”

Other congregants had started to line up to speak with Rafael. He turned towards the line, but not without glancing back, watching you walk away.

Rafael admired you from behind, appreciating how your jeans hugged you in all of the right places. A flash of heat coursed through him.

‘God damnit, what are you doing?’

—

You never came by. Or to mass. Rafael thought you might have had a change of heart. Perhaps your flirtation with religion had flamed out. He found himself longing to see you but also increasingly frustrated with himself. He busied himself as much as possible so that he couldn’t even think of you. You were the absolute last thing on his mind.

When you rapped on his door two and a half weeks later, Rafael was more than surprised. He was downright startled, like a horse with thunder. He had been knee deep in the church’s financial books.

“I’m sorry, I hope I am not intruding. I know it’s late.”

Rafael relaxed. “No, not at all. Please, come in, sit.”

You slunk in the chair with ease and eyed Rafael’s outfit. “You don’t look like a priest.”

Rafael arched a thick brow. “And what do I look like?”

“Like a regular guy. Someone I would meet at a bar,” you shrugged as you waved your arm as if to make a point. Rafael was wearing dark jeans with a button down, sleeves rolled up and brown brogues.

Rafael laughed. “Well, there was a point in my life where you would have found me there. Speaking of bars, would you care for a drink?”

“I thought priests could only drink church wine.”

Rafael laughed again. “No, no, we can drink more than church wine.” You heard the clatter of glass and the sound of liquid pouring. “Here,” Rafael turned to you, his arm outstretched, holding a lowball glass with amber liquid. “Macallan 18.”

You took it from him and swirled the liquid before sniffing. You closed your eyes as you took a sip. You hummed, pleased. “This is good. Dangerously good.” You took another sip. “Oh this goes down way too easy.”

‘I bet my cock will go down easy.’

Rafael coughed and shook his head. “Uh, yeah, it does.” He took a large swallow of his glass and then poured himself another glass.

“You’re wondering why I’m here now. Instead of two weeks ago.”

Rafael perched himself on the corner of his desk. “I am.”

“I wish I had a reason that made sense, but I don’t. The truth is…” you glanced around the office and it became very apparent that the room was decorated more like a legal office than what you assumed an office in a church would be like.

“The truth is?” Rafael prodded.

You stood and started walking around the room. Your hand trailed the spines of the stacks of books lined up. It was then when you spotted the law degree in the corner.

“Wait - you are a lawyer? And a priest? How does that work?”

“Was,” Rafael clarified, before taking a long sip of his drink. “Was a lawyer.”

“You don’t practice anymore?”

“No,” Rafael shook his head. “Not anymore.”

You walked up to the bar cart and poured yourself another drink. You took the chair and pulled it until you were sitting directly in front of Rafael. “Tell me.”

Hours passed. Rafael unloaded everything on you - his time at SVU, baby Drew, the why to choose a life of faith.

And that bottle of Macallan?

You stood very close to Rafael. Your hands pressed on his chest. You swayed slightly and Rafael placed his hands on your hips, steadying you.

“Hire me. I’m really good with numbers.”

Rafael’s eyes narrowed. “We aren’t going to have sex.”

You scoffed, before almost losing your footing. Rafael’s hands gripped your hips tightly. “Who said anything about us having sex?”

“Do you think I don’t realize what game you’re playing?”

“Game? I’m not playing a game. I need a job.”

“Don’t play dumb.”

You rolled your eyes. “I am not. Besides, do you even know how?”

Rafael pushed you away slightly. “Did you not just hear the story of my life?”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Father.”

“The how?”

You walked back and closed the gap between you and him. “Yeah. The how. To fuck.”

Rafael’s eyes darken. He cupped your face and you leaned into his palm. He slowly walked around and behind you. He dropped his mouth to your ear. “I know how to fuck. I’ve fucked plenty. Men. Women. I know how to make someone come.”

A rumble emanated from Rafael’s chest. You spun on your heels and looked up at him. Rafael loomed over you, your eyes growing wide. Your breath hitched. “Is that so?”

Your faces were inches apart. You were breathing each other's air, growing dizzy over the shared breath. Your heart was thumping and you were so needy in that moment you thought you were going to burst.

“Little lamb, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

You let out a whine. “Please.”

Rafael lifted your chin with his finger. Your eyes searched his before settling on his lips. His beautiful pink lips that you knew they knew how to kiss. And lick. And fuck. And make someone come.

“You’re a good priest Father Barba,” you whispered. “But you’re also a good man. And doesn’t a good man deserve a little indulgence every now and then?”

The tension in the room was thick, the air electric. You almost felt moved to tears in the desperate way you wanted him. And he wanted you.

The sound of sirens blaring broke the spell. You both jumped apart. You both stared at each other. Rafael couldn’t help but notice that you were flushed, and that flush was making its way down. You worried your bottom lip.

“It’s late,” you rushed. “I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time.”

You spun on your heels and was about to dash out the door when Rafael gripped your wrist, pausing you in the middle of the door.

You looked back up at him with wide eyes.

“You start Monday,” Rafael gruffed. You nodded, unable to say anything.

You managed to squeak out an ‘okay.’ And before you realized it, the door was shut in your face.

—

Your first week was completely uneventful. As is the next. And the week after. You’re the epitome of well behaved and professional much to Rafael’s relief.

That still didn’t mean he didn’t imagine kissing you and then some. Or how when you leaned over his desk, he didn’t imagine lifting up your skirt and plowing into you. Or that when you chewed on your pen cap, he didn’t imagine his cock between your plump, soft lips.

Under the collar, he still was very much a man.

And you didn’t let him forget it. He lost track of the amount of times he had to get himself off. And still it didn’t nothing to quell the ache for you.

You threw yourself into the work and you actually found it quite fulfilling. You made plenty of friends and found yourself volunteering in other parts of the church - like working at the food pantry or singing as part of the church choir.

Summer ebbed into Fall. The air grew cooler. The days started to grow shorter and the leaves, once a vibrant green, were now tinged with yellow and orange, painting the city in a fiery palette.

You were working in the rectory that morning. When Myra, the arthritic receptionist, ended up in the hospital with pneumonia, you eagerly took over the job. You were busy enough with church duties as it was but it made sense for you to take over.

Utilizing your skills from past work experience, you ended up bringing St. Blaise into the 21st century thanks to Intuit and Microsoft.

Since you started, the more Rafael was able to get to know you. In turn, the more he wanted you. He did everything in his power to not even look at you for too long, at least when you were not not looking. It was hard - but Rafael was a glutton for punishment. Being around you made Rafael addicted.

It did seem as if you heeded his words - you were the utmost professional. You did such a good job that Rafael wondered if maybe he had misread the signals altogether and that one night was just the booze.

Then one particular evening, Rafael saw you walking with Maria, her boyfriend, and another gentleman. He didn’t want to stop and say hi - if anything he wanted to avoid it altogether and cross the street but you and him made eye contact. It would have been too awkward to avoid you by that point. It ended with the five of you at the local watering hole - where this gentleman who had his arm wrapped around you. Rafael didn’t enjoy how jealousy washed over him - he knew he did not have any right to you, or your body. And he would never be - you were never together like that.

You were waiting at the bar, ordering another round when Rafael joined you. You looked over at him and gave a small smile.

“So you’re on date then?”

You looked at him incredulously. “Rafael—“

“You live here, you can go on any dates and with whom.”

“He’s just— you and I— we never…

The bartender arrived with your drinks. You went to pay, but Rafael stopped you. “I got it.”

“Don’t you have to take a vow of poverty?” you asked as you grabbed some of the drinks. Rafael grabbed the remainder and the two of you walked back to the booth.

“One of the most common misconceptions about the Catholic priesthood is that all priests take a vow of poverty. In fact, most do not. Diocesan priests do not even make vows, they make “promises” of obedience to their bishop: chastity and to pray the Liturgy of the Hours. Vows, on the other hand, are typically made by members of religious orders, such as Franciscans, Benedictines, Dominicans, etc.”

You nodded. “Got it.”

You walked ahead of Rafael, a sway in your hips as you did so. Rafael’s eyes narrowed and he sucked in a breath as he followed, exhaling slowly.

When your date - Eric - as he later learned - began mouthing off about theology and religion, Rafael rolled his eyes. Still, he wasn’t going to let himself get bested and using the skills he acquired from all the cross examinations he had ever done, basically annihilated the other guy. You snickered behind the glass of your drink but Rafael saw it and felt his chest puff.

At one point - Eric whispered something in your ear. Whatever he said was enough to make you blush and shift in your seat, smiling to yourself like you had a secret. Rafael didn’t miss it at all and he felt himself stiffen and his jaw tighten. Your eyes met once more, and you witnessed the visceral reaction he was having, saw that little flex of his jaw and the way his eyes glittered with something primal and possessive. You could see that part of him would gladly punch Eric, and even as Rafael’s eyes locked with yours, he didn't hide it. Briefly, the kind and generous priest was all gone. Even the smart and sassy lawyer was superseded: you saw the man, capable of lust and jealousy. Over you. The thought of inspiring those feelings in him made heat pool in your body, and you squeezed your thighs together. His eyes registered your expression: you were certain he knew how you felt.

By end of the night, you went to hug him good night but Rafael dodged you. You frowned and bid him adieu as he dipped his head in acknowledgement. Rafael continued to head home - and had he turned around, he would have seen you still standing, watching him.

Another week went by.

The pounding on the door stirred Rafael awake. He looked over at the clock - it was a little after midnight. A breeze blew through, causing a chill to run through his body.

He tugged a t-shirt on and groused that he was on his way.

Rafael was not expecting to see you.

“Father,” you greeted. There was a very large bottle of Macallan in your hand. Your eyes trailed over the very sleepy priest in front of you. His hair was askew and he looked adorable. You swallowed at his tight white shirt and low slung gray sweats.

“What is going on?” Rafael asked. He reached in his pocket for his glasses.

“Fancy a chat about my existential crisis?” You thrusted the bottle of scotch into his arms and walked in, pushing slightly past him.

Rafael got a whiff of your shampoo and it sent all blood straight immediately to his cock. He looks back outside and satisfied not seeing anyone else, closes the door behind him. “Existential crisis?”

“Do you have any glasses?” You ask, ignoring his question, as you look around. You hadn’t ever been inside a priest’s dwelling and you were surprised at how normal it appeared.

“Wow.” You stopped misstep and looked around. “This is not what I expected.”

Rafael rubbed his neck. “Huh? Oh, what did you expect it to look like?”

“I don’t know. More holy? Crosses everywhere. Stacks of bibles? Not something out of an architectural digest - with a kitchen island!”

Rafael laughed. He took the bottle from your hand and walked over to the island where he placed the glasses. “A lot of this is from…” he waved his arm around. “Before.”

“Pre-priest Rafael.” You clarified as you walked over to where he was and took an amber filled glass.

“Yeah,” Rafael replied before taking a long drag of his drink.

You nodded and hummed before taking another sip. “When you were just a man. Who had sex. A lot.”

“I’m still a man.”

“Come on, you know it’s not the same.”

You knew better. You knew you shouldn’t.

What would your friends say, what would they do if they ever find out? What about the congregation and surrounding community?

This was bigger than you, bigger than him. What were you thinking?

But it’s Rafael. Fr. Rafael Barba. Not that it matters - he’s not actually yours. He belongs to God.

But now when he’s staring down at you the way he is right now, teeth catching his full bottom lip, sleep-tousled hair and stormy, smoldering eyes, you can’t help but fall from grace.

“Kiss me.”

“You know we can’t.”

“So? Kiss me anyway.”

“I’m a priest.”

“Kiss me anyway.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

Rafael swallowed the remainder of his drink and let out a huff. He pointed a finger toward you. “You…you’re trouble.”

You closed the gap between you and him. The room felt electric. You pressed your hands onto his chest. “So? Kiss me anyway.”

Rafael sucked in a breath. You press yourself even closer, your hips automatically seeking his. Rafael pushed you away gently. “I told you we can’t. I told you I can’t.”

“Why are you denying what’s between us?” Your hands shook as you poured yourself another glass. You turned and leaned against the island. “God made us to be sexual creatures. It’s his design. It’s his idea, his gift to us.”

Rafael sighed in irritation. “Our sexual desires are no surprise to God. He made us, and He gave us a strong sexual desire to enjoy within the proper context.” He pointed to you and then to himself. “This is not the proper context. If I wasn’t a priest, then it would be different. This is real life. What we do has real consequences.”

“If you weren’t a priest,” you murmured. You swallowed the remainder of your drink and slammed it on the island. Warmth flooded your body and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or him or a combination of both. Likely the latter. “Tell me you want me. Tell me I was never imagining things.”

Rafael remained silent.

“You have the right to lose control. I know you think—”

“You don’t know what I think,” Rafael acerbically spat. “And no, I don’t have the right.” He began to pace. “You don’t know the misery I live in when you’re not around.”

“And you think I am not?” you questioned. Your voice wavered and your eyes welled with unshed tears. “It’s never been like this with anyone. Never. I want you. I can’t have you. But please - let me live in the solace that you want me too. That I was never imagining any of it. I am going crazy.”

Rafael paused mid-stride and looked at you. He took a deep breath.

“What’s it gonna be? I am begging you.”

It was like something in him snapped when you said that. Rafael slammed his own drink before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He walked over and pressed you against the island. You let out a squeak in response. You could feel how hard he was against your belly. He brushed some of your hair back. Your breath hitched and a flush spread along your skin.

“Say it again.”

“Tell me you want me.”

“No - repeat what you said at the end,” he all but growled. You chewed your bottom lip and nodded.

“I beg you.”

“God help me. You beg so prettily,” Rafael murmured. He pulled at you, hands grabbing at hips, lips crashing into yours in a bruising kiss. It was over before you could register and you pulled back to look into his eyes. You wrapped your hands on his face and then dove back in, returning the kiss, equally as hard.

The momentum was desperate, frenzied, hands everywhere. You let out a gasp as Rafael backed you against the kitchen island. The scruff of his beard dragged against your skin, his lips working your jaw, your ear, moving down your neck, and you let out a strained moan. You pressed your hips upwards into his, feeling his erection. Rafael had to stop and inhale sharply before resuming his attack on your skin. The tips of his fingers find skin under your shirt, and dig into your flesh. One of your hands is twisted in his shirt, the other grasping the waistband of his sweats as he felt a leg curve around his; it was as if your body functioned in tune to keep him as close as possible.

Rafael’s lips found purchase on the hollow of your neck. You let out a groan as you sagged against him, melting into his embrace. The want was overwhelming.

His hands made way to the front of your jeans and he nimbly undid the button and fly before shoving his large hand down your panties. “So wet for me.”

And you are. You’re so fucking wet, it’s obscene.

The tips of his fingers drag through your slit.

“Fuck,” his teeth scraped along your jaw. “You’re soaking.”

He slid two fingers deep inside of you. You keened wordlessly into his shoulder, biting down on his shoulder to suppress a moan.

“No, no, pretty lamb. Look at me,” Rafael husked, his voice laced with an edge of dominance.

You pulled back and met his gaze. His fingers drove deep up into you, pumping, long and needy. His thumb rubbed against your clit. Your blood is boiling, your body vibrating. You’re close. You know it. He knows it. His fingers continue their momentum, finding that spongey spot inside of you that most folks couldn’t ever find.

The walls of your pussy ripple against his fingers. “Be a good little lamb and come for me.” It was Rafael’s turn to beg. “Be my good girl and give it to me.”

You chanted his name as if it were prayer as you come around his fingers. Your body is abuzz, vibrating. You whine out his name in three syllables as you coat his hand with your arousal. Rafael swallowed your cries as he covered your mouth with his. The kiss, which was initially passionate, slowed in intensity, to just soft, slow licks that almost felt reverent, worshipful. Eventually he pressed his forehead to yours and you both drank in each other’s air, breathing heavily. You whimpered as Rafael removed his fingers from your cunt. You watched him with wide eyes as he slipped his fingers into his mouth. His eyes fluttered close as he let out an appreciative sound.

“Do I taste good, Father?” Your voice was laced with lust.

“My sweet, decadent little lamb,” Rafael complimented. “But we cannot do that again.”

“Do what?” You asked as you pushed him off slightly to give yourself room to drop to the floor. You palmed his cock through his pants, pleased with yourself as he groaned with want and need.

A car backfired and the sound caused you both to startle, effectively ending the spell. Rafael helped you up from the ground. “This cannot happen again.” His voice was firm. And before you could protest any more, you found yourself back outside, the door shutting in your face.

Rafael leaned against the door, his head pounding, his cock aching.

‘You idiot! You shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have given in to your melodic voice and sparkling eyes. You had no business being in his life.

But the crack he left open for you made him believe that he had more to lose now than when he met you at the block party all those moons ago.

He rubbed his face, tired and frustrated. And he went back to bed to once again to take matters in his own hands again. ‘Fuck.’

TBC.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba and reader #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba fanfiction #rafael barba smut #priest kink #priest! rafael barba #priest! Barba x reader #law and order SVU au #law and order svu fanfic

55 notes · View notes

plscallmeeren · 1 year

Text

G I R L O N

G I R L ?

Hermione J. Granger x Reader

Request: indeed

Summary: upon accidentally witnessing Cho and Ginny making out, you and your friend Hermione grow curious as to the concept of doing something with other girls and decide to experiment ;)

Warnings: swearing; scissoring; top!reader; bottom!Hermione; fingering (her receiving); loss of virginity ig

Word Count: 2.9K+

"Have you written your essay on bezoars yet?" you asked suddenly, disturbing the quiet library air.

"Yes. Now, don't tell me you want me to write one for you-"

"I'm not Ron," you interjected, slightly insulted. "I was just wondering which points you covered in order to write three feet on it."

"Oh. Sorry. I just- Ron's really getting to me, y'know. I mean, he always has, but couldn't he just- just- oh, I don't know."

You posture softened at the desperation in her voice. "Do you still like him?"

"No, no, none of that... if I'm being completely honest- Can I be completely honest? If there's anyone I can tell, it's you." You nodded. "He... I used to find him attractive, you know. Like, I thought about it and about- well, you know what, but now it just... he has no appeal and he's still a blithering idiot, so really, there's nothing left to like. Oh, does that make me awful?"

"No, love," you consoled immediately, "not at all. If it weren't for Harry, I'd say maybe you've just grown too far apart. C'mon, let's talk about this some more in the privacy of our room. I think I've still got some sweets from Honeydukes?" You smiled warmly and she gladly agreed.

•••

The two of you laughed at the unfortunate victim of one of the twins' pranks who was sitting rather unhappily in the hallway, Hermione albeit a little ruefully.

"Oh! I forgot my textbook in the Transfiguration classroom, I almost forgot. Can we quickly-"

"Sure. It's just around the corner, anyway."

You lay an arm around her shoulders and she wrapped hers around your waist, the both of you ambling along in comfortable silence.

"Alright, I'll be just a second," she said, letting go of you and heading to the classroom.

"Yeah- 'Mione?" you questioned, a tad concerned. She stood with the door ajar, frozen in place, staring inside.

"What's wrong?" you asked again, but she didn't bother replying. A little on edge, you moved behind her, staring over her head to see what had captivated her.

Inside the classroom, Ginny Weasley pushed Cho Chang against a desk, a firm grasp on her ass as they welded their lips together in beautiful sync.

You weren't as shocked, perhaps, as Hermione, but your eyes went wide and you could hardly force your gaze off the two of them. Your lips parted involuntarily and you hardly noticed the way your friend's body was pressing flush against yours.

Ginny began trailing kisses down Cho's jaw, the latter moaning out her name as if god herself was doing this to her. She grasped the hem of the red-head's shirt and just as she was about to pull it over her head-

Hermione closed the door and locked it with a charm simple enough to beat with Alohamora.

She turned and only then did you realise how close you were, foreheads almost touching, hips pressed against each other. You quickly stepped back.

"W-What was that?" she asked shakily, gulping when we heard a carnal groan from the other side of the door and casting a quick silencing charm to their benefit, too.

"I'd say it was pretty clear what that was," you replied, unsure as to what she wanted to hear.

"Yes, but- but they're girls. Both of them." You could see her trembling, wondered why this bothered her so much.

"Well, yeah. I haven't really heard much about it, either, but I don't see why it's a bad thing."

"No- No, I'm not saying that. I think my second aunt Marie was a lesbian, or at least my mother thinks so, but they're so... so close to our age and- and-"

You cupped her face in your palms, looking her in the eye in an attempt to gift her some sort of comfort.

"It's okay. You don't have to feel that way or feel challenged by it or- alternatively, if that's what you're worried about, if you share that sentiment, you don't have to be ashamed of that, either."

"Right," she breathed, calming, but much to your confusion, her legs were still shaking. "Do you... Do you ever think about girls like that?"

The question caught you thoroughly off guard and you noticed with mild surprise that while you never thought of boys sexually, you had never really considered girls.

"I... I haven't, but..."

Before you could stop yourself, you began imagining things, and you almost slapped yourself when an erotic painting of Hermione, a naked mess of moaning limbs in your bed, came to mind.

"But what?" She stared at you inquiringly, and that image of her letting you fuck her only took on more detail.

"Well, I could imagine... some girls are pretty hot, I mean."

"Yes. Yes, that's true... Would you- Let's just go to our dorm."

You nodded hurriedly and you made your way to the Gryffindor common room, although this time keeping your hands to yourself, in a silence that was not so much unpleasant as thick.

Brown waves splayed across your pillows, her back arched and nipples perked-

Stop it.

Her toes curled, fingers grasping the bedsheet as she cries out for you, she needs you, she needs more-

Stop it!

Hermione, so vulnerable before you, core throbbing, clenching around your fingers, so wet the slick runs down her thighs-

No.

You shook your head as if that would help. Hermione wasn't looking in your direction and you considered - just for a split second - whether the same thoughts were plaguing her mind. But surely not. Hermione wasn't like that. She wouldn't.

Eventually you arrived at your shared dorm (together with Lavender and Parvati). Much to your surprise, she whirled around, a look of studious determination on her face you knew all too well.

"...Yes?"

"Okay, I- I've thought about it. I think these things need to be tried out, you know? Just to see if they work."

"Oh, I think they work," you smirked, but she only glared. "Okay, fine. What are you suggesting? That we make out and see if we find it better than our experiences with boys?"

"Well, if you put it that way... Yes. I think it would be a beneficial experiment for both of us. You know - broadening our horizons. I wasn't particularly attracted to Viktor, necessarily, and you said your attempts at - you know what - sort of failed with Dean, so maybe..."

"Maybe we would be better off with another girl?"

"Girl on girl?" she affirmed, and the images of her flooded back.

"Yeah, okay, well- Do you want to prepare or...," you trailed off half-heartedly, fearing this might be awkwarder than necessary considering how you had worked up to it.

To underline one important thing; You couldn’t believe in the least what was happening. You were almost certain you were dreaming. And yet… her hot breath on your skin felt so life-like.

"No, now's probably best, Parvati and Lavender will probably be in Hogsmeade until this evening.

Deciding waiting wouldn't improve the atmosphere at all, you simply dove in.

Your lips crashed against hers and a moment later she reciprocated, her movements a little sloppy but otherwise pleasant. More than pleasant. Electricity seemed to be sparking between you, a force that drove you to push her back against the door to gain more friction.

With half a mind to just risk being caught, you pointed your wand at the door from the inside of your pocket and muttered colloportus and silencio.

Hermione’s hands clasped behind the nape of your neck, the kiss morphing to open-mouthed movements as she whimpered, your hands roaming the curves of her waist and finally grasping her ass.

You noticed as a dull sort of side-note that it all came naturally. Not once had your fingers ventured like this over the curves of a woman’s body, not once had you arched your back in just the right way to press your body flush against another female one, not any of it. But it came like second nature, just like a first kiss, where you formerly wonder if you’ll know how to even move properly.

“More,” Hermione whispered frantically, only urging you further to drag your lips along her jaw, hardly coming up for air.

“More what, sweetheart?”

She expressed a high-pitched moan that told you everything, but you needed to hear it.

“Use your big words for me, love,” you purred, and with a groan she managed ‘you’.

“I thought you only wanted to make out?”

“G-God, I need you. I’ve never felt like this before, I can barely stand- my legs- my legs-“ You sucked on the sweet spot below her collar bone that you could still reach without taking off her shirt.

“Hm… I think these’ll be getting in the way, then,” you nodded at her attire, and she sank along the door in need of rest, sitting on the floor with her legs spread wide before her.

“Do it for me, (y/n). Please,” she whimpered, and you couldn’t help but obey.

You slowly sunk to her height, crouching before her, starting by pulling off the tie loosely hanging around her neck (she only allowed such slack in herself on weekends) and then opening button after button on her shirt.

You continued to undo her slowly, her legs spreading wider and wider as if welcoming you in, raking her fingers over the carpet in an attempt to ground herself.

You finally pulled off her shirt and Hermione gasped as you ripped off her skirt in one swift motion. Her fingers grabbed at your hair instead and you could already feel the slight scratches on your scalp.

Her shoes and leggings were discarded carelessly and finally you could stare at her in nothing but her white lacy panties and a frilly white bra, not to mention the matching socks. If you hadn’t already known she was a virgin, you might have noticed at the sheer innocence of her arms covering her torso half-heartedly and the dark patch - ever-growing - in her white underwear.

“I-I’m not- I know I don’t look perfect, I… I don’t exercise much and I know my breasts are-“

You shushed her with a passionate kiss in which you hoped to share even a magnitude of how beautiful you found her. She moulded her lips against yours with just as much ferocious attraction.

“You wanna see me, too?” you asked quietly and she nodded immediately.

With hardly a second’s thought, hoping Hermione might be too hot and bothered to care how you looked or notice all the things you were insecure about, you pulled off your shirt, pants, shoes, and socks, finally leaving you in your underwear as well, although a tad more simple and certainly more black.

“You- You’re- You’re gorgeous,” she stuttered, eyes widened.

“Thank you, darling, but if I may continue,” you taunted, expertly undoing her bra (which, lucky for you, opened at the front) with your teeth, a skill you were most surprised you possessed, considering you had definitely done no such thing before.

“That’s, uh, that’s hot,” she murmured, panting slightly as you sucked on her left nipple, rolling the other in between your fingers. Your tongue traced a spiral around her nip and eventually you were massaging both of her tits as your mouth wandered further down, placing open-mouthed kisses and hickeys along her sides and abdomen.

“Oh, my God,” she whined, throwing her head back with closed eyes.

“It’s not God who’s doing this to you, love,” you teased, smiling into her as you finally reached her clothed pussy. The wet stain was dark and sweat beaded on every patch of skin, but you wouldn’t assume, you wouldn’t dare.

Stopping, your eyes flicked up to look at Hermione, the brunette needing a moment to realise why you had stopped.

“Please, I need you,” she groaned, and that was confirmation enough.

You ripped her panties clean in half in desperation, taking only two seconds to examine her pretty cunt and press your lips once to each inner thigh, diving two fingers into her without warning.

She moaned loudly, a sound so crazed and pleasurable you were glad only you could hear it. Then again, if Lavender and Parvati walked in on you both, they - and probably the rest of the school - would always know she was yours…

But she wasn’t yours.

This thought angered you more than anything could have in the foreseeable future, encouraging your fingers even more-so to pound into her at an ungodly speed. Her whines matched your pace, a girlish sound escaping her every time her back hit the wooden door.

“Am I fucking you good, ‘Mione? Better than Viktor could’ve?” You weren’t sure where the confidence came from or how you knew what words to choose to almost drive your friend over the edge, but the risk of her being put off by them vanished into thin air when her pathetic moans only grew louder.

“Much,” she squeaked between thrusts. You could feel her walls clenching around your fingers, climax ebbing just one more lick of your thumb over her clit away, all so close, so close, trembling, yelling your name, unspeakable sounds-

You pulled out of her and licked your lips. Slowly, taking your time as she stared at you in utter horror. Obviously, she was new to a little something called edging.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby,” you cooed, swiping up the last of her juices with your tongue. She was so wet it was pooling on the floor.

“You- You- How could you!? I’ve never came before and you just took-“

“C’m’ere,” you offered, standing and sitting down with open legs open on your bed. “I wanted to try something. This is supposed to be an experiment, right?”

She flushed so deeply red you considered calling it something else.

“If there’s one thing I did learn from Dean, it’s that an orgasm is always better if you’ve been denied one several times. Don’t worry, I won’t make it several times,” you promised, seeing the look on her face. “But, because we’re two females, which was the point of this whole exercise, I thought we should try doing something you can’t do with a dick.”

You took a moment to stare at her, let your hungry eyes roam as you licked your lips. There she lay, leaning against the door for support, legs spread incredibly wide, liquid spilling out of her, coating her inner thighs, cunt tensing around nothing, nipples perked, trembling, panting, hair a mess, a slight smudge of her mascara.

Almost how you had imagined it. Only better.

“What’s that?” she asked, with the same kind of intrigue she had when examining a bowtruckle.

“Well, we both have cunts-“

“(Y/n)! Don’t use that word!”

“Why not? It describes something so pretty,” you countered, nodding at her pussy, and she blushed anew.

“We could try… I don’t know, rubbing them together or something. It’s not like it can go wrong. If it doesn’t work, I’ll fuck you like that again and you can cum, I’m getting the hang of it, I think. Please. For the love of science?”

“We’re going to a magic school,” she teased, standing up shakily and making her way towards your bed.

“Well, that certainly felt like magic, hon’.”

She smiled shyly, letting herself down with one leg over yours on the red covers, watching closely as your sexes edged closer.

“Okay, just…”

The effect was immediate, and you weren’t prepared for feeling so good yourself.

Your gaze flicked back and forth between the squirming mess where your bodies connected, soaked to the brim, and this beautiful woman as naked as anything, jaw dropped in concentration and pleasure.

“F-Fuck,” she cried out, tensing yet again. On any other occasion you would have teased her for using a ‘bad word’, but now wasn’t the time.

Your stomach was doing somersaults. Your lungs burned with the effort of humping against her. Your legs had about as much idea of where they were as a bear in the Sahara desert.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, ‘Mione,” you groaned, a guttural noise that had her throw her head back. No answer met your comment but high-pitched ‘ah’s strung an unstoppable melody from her mouth.

You were so close, she was tensing, so close, so close, so close-

You both came simultaneously, a mess of limbs as she climbed over you to slump on your body, flush against you. After what you had just seen the other do, there was no more shame. Yet, perhaps.

“Oh, God, that was so good,” she whined, almost bumping your abdomen at the mere thought.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to answer, simply pulling the blanket over the two of you to keep warm. Not that the hot flush would die down any time soon.

“So, uh,” she started unsurely, at once glad she was hidden under the covers, even if her knee was at your groin and your breasts were practically entangled. “Would you say we’re attracted to other girls?”

“Fuck, ‘Mione,” you cursed, feeling the need to fuck her all over again. “Yeah. I think it’s pretty clear we’re both very capable of being attracted to other girls.”

“I thought so.”

You pulled her even closer, relished in the smell of sweat and sex and her vanilla perfume.

——————

I hope this is something like what you wanted :)

#fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter #hpff #new chapter #hermione fanfiction #hermione granger #hermione x reader #x reader #oneshot #romance #smut #wlw

331 notes · View notes

mcntsee · 9 months

Text

Her smile

Summary: I taught you everything you know. Her words resonated through his mind. I saved you. And she had. He couldn’t deny it any longer. It’s not like he ever had; he was just too much of an asshole to admit it to her.

Warnings: A little bit of angst, but mostly fluff. Good ending (maybe…). Violence, blood, etc… There’s a little of Kaz’s backstory mentioned, but it has slight changes. I think a curse word here and there, I can’t remember. This was a little bit rushed, so expect grammatical mistakes. One or two uses of “Y/n”.

Quick clarifications: Y/n is a year or two older than Kaz, not more. This is kind of written from Kaz’s point of view. You get a glimpse of his thoughts, which are in italics. You might also see the constant use of the word “ja”, that was just me trying to add a little Kerch touch to the story. ( Ja = Yes. )

Author’s note: I am still trying to figure out this new writing style, but actually really liked how this turned out. I tried not to make Kaz that ooc, but I’m unsure of whether I succeeded or not. Comments are extremely appreciated!

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

Keep running. That was the only thing Kaz could think of. Run or be caught and end up like Jordie. So he ran. He ran, and kept running until his legs gave out. Get up. Keep running. But he couldn’t.

The temperatures were dropping, he had cast off his wet pants, but his shirt still clung to him, reminding him of the dew-laden grass back in Lij that would stubbornly stick to his bare feet. I need a different shirt.

As he gasped for breath, contemplation filled the moment, presenting an opportunity to plan his next move. Though he knew some clothing stores were open, the absence of funds and a nagging doubt lingered – in Ketterdam, who would spare a glance for a kid in drenched clothes?

I could bite another kid. He thought, but he knew the chances of acquiring more clothing items out of acting like a rabid dog were slim. Moreover, he pondered the peculiarity of another child rummaging through the barrel at this hour. Think, Rietveld, think.

A moving shadow caught his attention from the corner of his eye, triggering the instinct to flee from potential danger. Yet, just as he prepared to sprint, he discerned the diminutive size of the shadow, halting him before he could take off. They can’t be much older than me.

To his credit, it had seemed like a brilliant plan. Biting the other kid had secured him a new pair of pants, albeit snug in certain areas craving more breathing room. Regardless, they were dry.

Why, then, should he have anticipated the petite shadow to swiftly twist his arm at an angle before the opportunity to enact his rabid dog performance even arose?

“I haven’t seen you around before.”

Kaz had expected the shadow to be many things, a girl, however, had not been one of them. Jordie would have died laughing if he saw this.

“Cat ate your tongue?”

“It did not. No.”

“There you go. What business?”

He had heard that question before – in the alleys, the pleasure houses, along Geldstraat, Jakob Hertzoon.

“No business.”

With a huff, the mysterious girl relinquished her grip on his arm and nudged him with a push. Run, Kaz. Run. But something else in him had told him to stay.

“What is it that you want then, …-“

“Kaz.”

“What do you want, Kaz?”

Multiple answers ran through his head, all of them something that he desperately needed- Jordie, my da, money, food, Hertzoon. “I want a dry shirt.”

“Is that why you’ve been scaring kids off?”

“You’ve been following me.”

“Can you blame me? You caught the attention of a lot of people after biting the kid.”

Admittedly, he was aware of the fact that it had not been his brightest idea, but he was desperate.

“I suppose I could help. Wait here.”

And just like that, she was gone. Not even leavening the sound of her footsteps behind. She won’t come back. Ignoring his mind, he decided to wait. Wait and hope that she would return. Hope is dangerous. Still, he waited.

Not long after, a whispered “Kaz!” was heard from the shadows. “Come here!”

And went he did. His gaze jumping from corner to corner, trying to figure out why the mysterious girl suddenly had the urge to whisper.

“Here you go.”

“Wha- Where did you get this from?”

“That store over there.”

“I don’t have money to pay you back.”

“Pay me back? It was free.”

Free? He doubted that. Ketterdam did not seem like the place where free clothes were handed out to kids in need. So, how did she get a free shirt? Oh.

“You stole it?”

“Ja.”

“How?”

“You really are new here, huh?”

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Jakob Hertzoon?”

“That’s what I said, ja.”

“No clue. Never heard that name before.”

How could she possibly not know Hertzoon when she knows everyone in this forsaken city?

“He is a scammer. A thief.”

“You are going to have to be a little more specific than that, Kaz.”

“Old, average height, beard.”

“Sounds to me like everyone else in Ketterdam.”

Great. He had truly believed that she would be able to help him find Hertzoon, but it seemed like luck hadn’t been on his side for a while now.

“Anyone you can think of?”

“No, not really.”

“He has a daughter. Saskia.”

And he assumed that was the key detail she sought because the moment the name escaped his lips, she froze. Maybe luck is on my side.

“Red ribbon girl?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, Kaz…”

Maybe luck is not on my side.

“What?”

“There is no Jakob Hertzoon.”

He hated her. So much. No one believed him, and just when he thought he could trust someone again, she went and crushed it like it was nothing.

“There is.”

“No, Kaz-“

“Why won’t you believe me?”

He felt like crying. He felt betrayed. The same way he did the day Jordie had him climb up to the window to peek inside, only to find that Hertzoon was gone. That they had been betrayed.

“I do believe you.”

“Then-“

“That’s not his name.”

“He said it was-“

Oh. You idiot. Of course that was a lie too.

“The person you are looking for is Pekka Rollins.”

Pekka Rollins.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

Since that day, Kaz had remained by her side, recognizing that an ally in an unfamiliar city was preferable to navigating it alone.

“And you are doing this because…?”

“None of your business.”

“All of my business, Kaz.”

In moments like this, Kaz found himself longing for the chance to rewind time, back to the day they met, and enact his plan of biting and escaping.

“I want to do something nice for someone.”

“Mmh. What you’re trying to say is that you fancy someone, ja?”

“Ja.”

Once again, that stupid smile adorned her face. However, he comprehended the reason behind her teasing. After all, he had been seeking her assistance to conquer his phobia throughout the entire past week.

“Of course I’ll help you, Kaz. You just need to wait a week.”

“Why?”

“The old man wants my help in some stupid job.”

“What job?”

“I’m just meeting with some contractors, nothing fun.”

Initially intending to wait, he seized the chance when an opportunity unexpectedly presented itself.

It started off small, with him merely removing his gloves for brief intervals, but soon he opted to take it a step further.

Had he waited a mere couple of hours, perhaps he wouldn't find himself holding an ice pack to his left cheek right now. Unfortunately, impatience got the better of him.

Believing that taking on a job without his gloves was a clever shortcut, he hadn't anticipated Borj assigning him the task of restraining someone.

It had been too much, too fast, forcing him to release the individual. He had inadvertently granted someone an escape opportunity, all because of a girl.

“Kaz.”

Run. Hide. Yet, after the brutal beating he endured, he lacked the strength for either option.

“Kaz.”

“What?”

“What happened?”

Despite the strong urge to snap at her, to demand solitude, he found himself disheartened and in pain. So he told her everything.

“Where’s Borj?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

But apparently, she had cared because as soon as those words escaped his lips, she was on her feet and walking away from him. You are weak, Brekker.

Not long after she left, a commotion outside caught his attention. Initially inclined to ignore it, given the commonality of fights in the barrel, he changed his mind upon recognizing her voice. Rising to his feet, he went in search of her.

"Does it make you feel powerful, Borj? Stronger, or better than everyone else?”

There she stood, an accusatory finger pointed and rhythmically striking Borj in the chest.

“Does beating a kid make you feel like you matter?"

"Get out of here before I beat your ass too, kid."

But defiance laced her words as she challenged, "Try me."

And try he did.

That marked the final encounter Kaz had with Borj.

Of course, that's excluding the occasion when she assisted him in tracking down Borj, enabling him to exact his own revenge.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Breathe, Kaz.”

“I am.”

“You are not.”

He truly wasn’t. Despite an hour of attempting to crack the lock, he couldn’t find the pressure point she kept talking about.

“Stop.”

“No, I almost got it.”

“Stop.”

With a sigh, the lock picks he had previously been using clattered on the table, his gloved hand reaching up to rub at his temples in frustration.

“If you keep jabbing the lock picks in, you won’t be able to find where to push down on.”

This was a stupid idea. He had witnessed her effortlessly open various locks within seconds and believed that asking her to teach him was a brilliant plan.

It wasn't her fault, really. He simply had a tendency to get frustrated when things didn't unfold as he intended.

The fact that he was embarrassing himself in front of her wasn't helping in the slightest either. How was he supposed to steal her heart if he couldn’t even learn to pick a lock?

But then she flashed that smile, and everything seemed to get better.

“Here, let me show you again.”

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Aim higher.”

“I can’t aim any higher unless you want the bullet to- hopefully, hit a bird.”

With a sigh, she stepped closer to him, her hand extending.

“May I?”

A nod of his head was all she needed before she carefully grabbed his arm, pushing it slightly upward.

“There. Try again.”

A single shot echoed through the air and this time, unlike the many others, the bullet hit the mark.

“Attaboy.”

And, saints, if he hadn’t been smiling already because of his success, he knew he would've struggled to suppress the grin that would've undoubtedly appeared on his face at the sight of her twinkling eyes and smile.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Please just go.”

“I won’t until you tell me what’s wrong, Kaz.”

What isn’t wrong?

“I won't be able to fix all of your problems, but you'll never have to face them alone.” With those words, she stepped closer. His breath caught, his body responding as it always did. His stomach churned, hands trembling, and sweat starting to form on his forehead. “I may not have all the answers or solutions, but I do have all the time in the world for you.”

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. Who exactly was he thinking about, he wasn’t sure. For all that mattered, it could’ve been her, Jordie, or even Pekka- again. But most of all, he detested what he’d become.

I hate you, Rietveld.

“It's alright if things are going differently to what you had planned, Kaz.”

But it isn’t.

“It's alright if your life is taking turns you never could've predicted.”

It has for a while now.

“It's alright if you're feeling overwhelmed.”

I am. Constantly overwhelmed with dreams and hopes that I just can’t pursue. I am not strong enough.

“Kaz, there is no rulebook for existing.”

I wish there were.

“Watching you move through life with your head held high and your strength radiating, even on the tough days, has been such an eye-opening and inspiring experience.”

But it was fake. He was not strong. He was scared.

She could sense the turmoil inside his mind. She didn't need to hear it to understand the dark narrative he was weaving for himself. The destructive lies his brain was pleading with him to believe.

“I can't protect you from everything,” another step closer, “but I'll do my best to make sure you're safe.”

Soon, she had reached his bed, and with a subtle nod, he silently granted her permission to sit beside him, his gaze still fixed downward.

“I trust you, with the entirety of my heart.” Carefully, she lifted her arm, waiting for his response. Anticipating him to tell her to stop, expecting him to push her away as he always did.

But this time, he didn't. He inhaled deeply and, with deliberate effort, raised his body off the bed using his arms, moving closer to her.

He could feel the heat radiating from her, even at a distance. He could feel her warmth, and he longed for it. He yearned to draw nearer.

He longed to break down and cry, wishing for her embrace to envelop him. Imagining her tender hand soothingly moving up and down his back while he heard the gentle thumping of her heart.

“I hope you never forget that I believe in you. Wholeheartedly. With every fibre of my being.”

In that moment, he let his eyes brim with unshed tears, and for once, he allowed someone to see it. His gazed slowly moved up from the ground, halting at the sight of her face, and then delicately tracing down her features, pausing at the captivating allure of her smile.

And for the first time ever, he allowed himself to fall into her welcoming arms.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

“How did you do that?”

“What?”

“The pen thing.”

“Magic.”

“Teach me.”

For the first time ever, she was asking him to teach her something. He never thought this moment would come. He had believed that there was nothing she didn’t know how to do.

Yet, here she was, seeking his guidance to unravel the secrets of a magic trick. A small shift, perhaps, but an unexpected and welcomed turn nonetheless.

“A magician never reveals his secre-”

“Oh for Saint’s sake, Kaz.”

“All right, all right.”

Saints. That smile.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

“You are not thinking clearly, Brekker.”

“I’m thinking clear enough to know that you are not helping.”

She is right. Deep down he knew that. She is always right. But today, he wouldn’t accept it.

He had a solid plan. The only issue was that the blueprints he had acquired were not up to date, and the building he was meant to be in was old.

“You are going to get yourself killed, Kaz.”

“So what?”

Numerous opportunities for death had come his way, but it hadn’t claimed him yet. So, what was another risk going to do? If he was meant to die, he would.

“If you don’t care, I do.”

“Ja?”

“Ja.”

Of course, she cares. Yet, he wasn’t about to abandon his plan that easily. Unless she had a better one, he wasn’t going to heed her advice any longer.

“Let me go in.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Listen to me-“

“No.”

He was reckless, yes. But not reckless enough to send her into the building. He knew the risks, and he wouldn’t take the one that could potentially lead to losing her.

His chair was suddenly yanked back from his desk. In an instant, he found himself pinned to the wall, her foot next to his shoulder, blocking him from moving the chair back to its original place.

“If you won’t listen, I’m going to make you listen.”

Kaz's face suddenly reddened, the close proximity and her position evoking an unexpected sensation within him.

Saints.

"If you go in there and something happens, we both know you won’t be able to make it out." she stated firmly. “This is not the way to take down Rollins.”

He was in no position to deny it. He wouldn’t make it out, that was for sure. His leg had been bothering him for the last month, which had also made him slower. Made me weak.

“I can. You know I can.”

With a swift move of his leg, he hit hers, causing her to fall to the ground sideways. This gave him the perfect opportunity to stand up.

Just like she had, he positioned his foot right next to her shoulder and leaned down, close enough so that their faces were almost touching.

“Not so fast now, are you?”

“Asshole.”

Help her up. But he resisted the urge to. Instead, with their faces so close, he said, “If risking your life to prove that you’re better is what makes you leave me alone, then do so.” And with that, he moved.

Her face displayed fury, brows furrowed, mouth in a thin line. But, he didn’t care enough to spare her a second glance. Instead, he sat back down on his chair and moved it back to his desk.

“You would be nothing without me, Brekker.”

“I disagree.”

“I taught you everything you know.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, darling.”

“I saved you. Don’t forget that.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving nothing but the echo of a slammed door behind.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

I taught you everything you know. Her words resonated through his mind. I saved you. And she had. He couldn’t deny it any longer. It’s not like he ever had; he was just too much of an asshole to admit it to her.

No. No, no, no! He refused to accept that it was over. That she was gone, vanished in the blink of an eye. That she had died believing that he was ungrateful. Believing that he hated her.

He could never hate her; he loved- loves her. I love her.

Run. That was the only thing Kaz could think of. Run or risk her dying. So he ran. He ran, and kept running until his legs screamed at him to stop. Don’t stop. Keep running. And he did.

He ran until he reached the remnants of the building she had been in. The building I let her go into.

"Help!" he yelled at the rest of the crows, hoping they would start running and come to help him find her.

Dig. Dig. Dig, and keep digging. he urged himself, desperation mounting. Every rock he picked and discarded elsewhere only revealed more rocks underneath. No sign of her. Dig until your hands bleed.

It felt like an eternity before Jesper yelled at them, “She’s here!” Before Jesper even had the chance to finish what he was saying, Kaz had already gotten up and started running towards him. “Where?”

“Where, Jesper, where?”

Kaz’s gaze trailed along the path indicated by Jesper’s finger, only to find a bloodied hand underneath the rubble. No, no, no.

He swiftly dropped to his knees, fervently tossing rocks in all directions. Keep digging, were the only words in his mind.

Kaz could hear the sound of his gloves ripping, but in this moment, he paid it no mind. He persisted in his efforts until her top half emerged from beneath the rubble. “Darling?”

He could feel the ghosts of his past clutching at his back, attempting to drag him under the water. But he couldn’t let them. He wouldn’t.

Come on, Rietveld. His hands were shaking, and he could hear his friend calling his name, asking him to move aside, to allow them to pull her from beneath the rubble, but he ignored it.

He couldn't bear the thought of living without her by his side, without her guiding him through everything he longed to learn.

He couldn’t fathom the thought of never seeing her eyes sparkle or living without ever hearing the sound of her voice, the resonance of her laughter.

He couldn’t imagine a world where her stupidly beautiful smile never graced his sight again.

With shaky hands, he seized her from underneath the shoulders and pulled.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

Three fractured bones, two dislocated joints, a canvas of cuts and bruises, and head trauma.

That’s what the medik had told them. Those were her injuries. Injuries caused by my stupidity.

She must’ve been anticipating the collapse and realized that escaping in time was impossible. The medik also conveyed the belief that the position she deemed safer to take had ultimately saved her life. Smart girl.

To him, witnessing her so unnaturally still was a disconcerting sight, one he never wished to experience again.

In the time they had known each other, Kaz had only seen her injured three times, including this incident. Ironically, each of those three instances where she got hurt was somehow connected to him.

“Brekker!”

“Ja?”

“I’m going to murder you.”

He could see the fury in her eyes, and for a second, he entertained the thought that she might actually kill him.

He was well aware that he was breaking every rule she had set up for him. These rules were not akin to the ones parents give their children – no candy after seven, brush your teeth before bed, and so on. No, these rules, according to her, had been crafted to keep him safe, to keep him alive.

But he just couldn’t stop thinking about Rollins. He understood that venturing into the Dime Lions' turf was risky, downright foolish. However, he felt compelled to get a closer look at him, to learn everything about him in order to destroy him, to make him pay.

“One rule, Kaz. One rule.”

He was slightly surprised at how quickly she had found him. It hadn’t been that long, perhaps just an hour, including the time he spent walking from the Slat to the Emerald Palace.

“I’m fine!”

“You won’t be once I lay my hands on you.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

He knew she was furious; he could see it in her eyes. He had observed that whenever a surge of anger swept over her, an intense glare would manifest, with a sharp focus on whatever had incited her wrath- in this case, him.

Her pupils would also dilate, at times with rapid changes in size, set against narrowed eyelids.

But still, he could sense her smile attempting to break through the anger. He watched as she fought against it, resisting the grin that sought to make its way to her face.

“Come here, you tall idiot.”

He had finally reached that age when it felt as if one night he went to bed shorter than her, only to wake up the next morning towering over. He liked it.

“Coming.”

What neither of them had been expecting was the shot that rang out as soon as he stood by her side.

Quickly and without thinking, he took her arm and pulled her behind the wall, providing them with a safe place to hide.

“That was close.”

“Kaz-“

“Come on, we have to go.”

“Kaz.”

Before he even had the chance to fully turn around, he heard the distinct sound of a body hitting the ground. When he saw her, he felt like he was trapped in a dream. Or rather, a nightmare.

He could hear her choking, struggling to breathe, gasping for air as her lungs filled with her own blood. He could see her desperately holding her neck, applying pressure in a futile attempt to staunch the flow.

He could see the pool of blood forming underneath her. Not just any blood, but her blood. “No.”

It had been nothing short of a miracle that he had the strength to drag her all the way back to the Slat without passing out himself.

By the time they made it back, she had lost all the color in her face. Her once pink lips were now tinted with her own blood. Her body had begun to grow colder, and his clothes were completely ruined.

The doctor had advised him not to hope for anything. He told him to adhere to the harsh reality that there was nothing more the doctor or anyone else could have done for her. That she might not make it through the night, or wake up.

“Kaz.”

“She will.”

“Hope is dangerous in the barrel, kid.”

“She will wake up.”

“Kaz?”

“She has to.”

And she had. So why won’t she wake up now?

“Kaz!”

“What?”

And just like that, he was snapped back from his memories, and reimbursed in reality.

“You need to eat something.”

“I’m fine.”

“You haven’t eaten a thing since…”

“Since the day she almost died because of me. Go on, Inej, you can say it.”

Inej’s gentle exhale echoed as she delicately set down what he assumed was a plate with food, before leaving. Her steps quiet enough for the subtle sound to blend seamlessly with the room’s stillness.

He permitted his thoughts to return to their previous dwelling as soon as the door clicked shut behind Inej.

Growing up with Y/n at his side was a privilege he didn’t often acknowledge. “I’m sorry I have taken you for granted.”

He meant it from the bottom of his cold heart when he said, “I genuinely know I wouldn’t be the person I am today if it wasn’t for you.”

The fondest memories etched in his heart were those shared with her, doing whatever they had been doing. He cherished every moment they spent together, even if he didn’t show it at the time.

I want to keep creating memories with you.

“Seeing you happy make my heart smile.”

It did, truly.

“There is nothing more that I want than to see you live the beautiful life you deserve.”

He couldn’t even remember the amount of times she had helped him. With anything and everything.

“Please wake up.”

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

He succumbed to nourishment under the watchful eyes of Inej and Nina, relenting only after their threats to stabilize his racing heart and administer sustenance while he was unconscious.

Immobile, he had lingered by her bedside without the slightest shift since the day he carried her back from that ill-fated job.

It felt like it had been ages before his breath caught as he saw her stir, a subtle movement that held the weight of an entire universe of emotions. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his.

“Y/n.”

In that instant, her radiant smile graced his world once more. He had yearned for this moment, the warmth of her smile rekindling a flame in his heart.

He didn't resist this time. All pretense crumbled, revealing a genuine smile on his face, a rare sight that echoed the warmth he felt in his heart.

“I am sorry.”

“Kaz-“

“No. You deserve this. You deserve an apology.”

Slowly, he moved closer, his bare hand extending toward hers. Unexpectedly, there was no tremor, no unsettling unease in his stomach, and the haunting echoes of the past seemed momentarily muted. It was a rare instance where Kaz felt a measure of control over his thoughts, his body, and the outreached hand.

“You saved me countless times, in ways beyond measure. Over and over again. You’ve saved me in more ways than anyone could ever fathom.”

She saved the shivering kid that had crawled out of the harbor. She provided refuge and became an ally.

“You gave me a chance. You gave Jordie a chance.”

She gave him control—over his body, over his fear. She provided him with armor when he needed it the most. A second skin—the gloves that would later weave a legend around him, making people fear him.

“You gave me peace.”

Throughout it all, she never gave up. Standing by his side for hours on end, teaching him the essentials of survival and imparting the knowledge crucial for his survival. And, not just that, she taught him everything he longed to learn. Things that had ignited the curiosity of a kid.

Over and over again, she defended him when he was too weak to defend himself. She shielded him from everything and everyone, regardless of the consequences.

“You stood by my side and never left. Even when I begged you to.”

She imparted the skills of combat, manipulation, and information extraction. She taught him the art of thievery and pickpocketing.

She nurtured him with care, ensuring his well-being in a world that often demanded too much. She prepared his favorite meals and gently reminding him to take breaks, to rest.

“You keep me young, healthy. Powerful.”

She offered him her shoulder to lean on when the burden became too heavy, not just once but repeatedly. Through it all, never once did she judge.

She was there for him, patiently listening to everything he had to share—plans, troubles, the past, the present, and the future. Through it all, she sat beside him and listened.

“You have grounded me on so many occasions and guided me towards a better life and a happier heart.”

She made his heart feel like it was beating again, as if it had come back to life. As if Kaz Rietveld had not quite died, but instead merged with Brekker and came out only with her.

“You are the most amazing person I have ever met. I am always in awe of your kindness and compassion for those around you.”

Growing up next to her had been nothing short of magical.

She's the anchor in his chaos, the silent strength in his storm, the guiding light through the murky waters. And despite the irritation she causes every now and then, he wouldn't have it any other way.

She was the one he wanted to love. Freely and without fear of what might happen. He wanted to love and be loved by her. He wanted to be by her side every second of the day.

He wanted to make her smile all the time. He needed to see her smile.

“I-“

Come on, Kaz. He wanted to tell her. He needed to let her know. He wanted to unravel the feelings he had kept hidden for far too long. “I-“ It was time to break free from the armor he wore, allowing himself to embrace both the love and the pain that might come with it.

“You…?”

“I love you.”

And in that moment, her smile was the only affirmation he needed, telling him that he had chosen the right words.

“I love you too, Kaz.”

Ghezen, that fucking smile.

#six of crows #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows x reader #fanfiction #fluff #kaz brekker #angst

260 notes · View notes

ayyy-imma-ninja · 6 months

Note

So idk if this was intentional for your Fairy AU(since it was/is a tsams au in particular) or not, but something I LOVE is that Fairy Sun seems to share that inability to deal with change that TSAMS Sun had until he started getting therapy. That trauma response of wanting so bad for things to be the way they were or supposed to be to the point that you can barely process or accept all the changes that get thrown at you.

Again, dunno if you meant to do that, but I still think that's an awesome likeness!

oooo~ interesting connection!

I will say, the only things that really make this a SAMS AU are the cast of characters, some of their relationships with one another, and personality aspects. Besides that, the AU has no other relation to the shows and many things will go in different directions. (for example, the dynamic between fairy Lunar and Eclipse will not be 100% the same as SAMS Lunar and Eclipse)

That being said, some responses to situations might be similar, albeit are usually based on how I myself would react to things if I were in their shoes. Sundrop, being the little guy he is, is going through a lot of drastic changes. Being completely separated from Moon for the first time, Eclipse being free and past baggage coming with him, being forced out of his home, and now the incident with Juniper's stone. He's struggling to keep up. In-universe, the solar eclipse was only 9 days ago.

So while there may be similar connections here and there between the show and the AU, most are purely coincidental ^^' (like Lunar getting his arm broken, I had that planned in the story before the episode even aired QwQ)

#answered ask #fairy au #dca fairy au #sundrop fairy #tsams #sams #sun and moon show #fnaf daycare au #fnaf dca au

79 notes · View notes

fortheloveofwonderland · 4 months

Text

Rusty | Chapter 14 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N - filler chapter of sorts I suppose. I needed this build up to the next chapter which I guess will be the kinda pinnacle of their relationship. It’s also one of the more angsty chapters, please proceed with caution.

Summary - Another trip to the hospital does not get Spencer’s birthday off on the right foot. You try to push past your anger and frustration towards him in order to still help him celebrate.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - mentions of past abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms, blood, self harm, hospital, dissociative suicidal ideals, swearing, medication, tears, arguing, mentions of Maeve, vague mentions of age gap.

WC - 6k

Chapter 14 - Even Cowgirls Get the Blues

There was a place in your mind you’d been forced to carve out, a small, dark recess for which you’d been obligated to create.

It was a special place you visited when things became too much, the burden of your stepfather's abuse and later the hardships that came from being on your own at such a young age.

It was your own way of distancing yourself from life’s fundamentally unrelenting wave of trauma. No point letting it bring you down or you may never get out of bed in the morning.

When you suffered, you stuffed it down in the cavern of your mind. Don’t dwell, don’t allow yourself to feel. Box it up and send it on its way.

It wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism, for that you were acutely aware. But it staved off the emotions, allowed you to get up with the dawn of each new day and carry on.

It was a fail safe, your own way of shrouding yourself from the horrors of the world.

But the day you opened the door to Spencer’s lodge and found him unconscious in a sea of red, would leave you forever changed.

This was one too substantial to quantify. There was no hiding this away. You were sure for the rest of your life you would never shake that image from your mind.

When you’d taken your revenge on Leon there had been a lot of blood. It wasn’t until later when you were being processed by the cops that you realised some of it was on your own clothes too.

But you were calm, unperturbed. He’d deserved to bleed that way, the sticky substance pooling from the holes you’d shot into him didn’t phase you.

This was different. This was one atrocity you would never be able to stow away.

It all seemed like a dream, albeit a terrifying one. The images were blurry but no less nauseating. Somehow you’d managed to jump into action without letting yourself become bogged down in the weight of it all.

You’d tried to stem the bleeding whilst calling the ambulance, followed behind in your car while they took him to the hospital. You’d done everything right, not allowed yourself to crumble before you saved his life.

But now it was hitting you like a tsunami. As you sat in the waiting area of the hospital, staring catatonically at the opposite wall, you couldn’t stop seeing the scene you’d walked in on when you’d arrived back from town.

Spencer slumped on the couch, eyes closed and barely breathing. Head forward, chin on his chest. A razor blade still held limply in his right hand and a seemingly endless stream of blood flowing from his left arm.

Somehow he’d gotten his cast off, the remnants of plaster and purple fibreglass strips you found on the floor from the kitchen to the couch where you’d found him. He’d taken the razor and cut a vertical laceration from the crook of his arm to his wrist.

The doctor had told you he’d incised an old scar you hadn’t known existed on his forearm. The damage was extensive, he lost a lot of blood. That much you knew, you’d seen it.

The floor and the couch and Spencer’s clothes had been covered in the claret. In an attempt to try and stop the bleeding you yourself were covered in it.

Your hands were still stained light red despite the scrubbing. The sleeves of your shirt were caked in it. You knew exactly how much blood he’d lost.

You didn’t know the full extent of what was going on as you tried to tune it out. He’d had his wound stitched up, some imaging to ensure he hadn’t caused any kind of permanent nerve damage. He was pumped with fluids and had regained consciousness.

The doctor informed you that you could see him but you didn’t move from the waiting room chair. They were waiting on a psychological evaluation to determine if he was a danger to himself.

You would argue that he most certainly was.

You were gone an hour at most. If you’d come back even a minute later, Spencer most likely would have bled to death.

Perhaps that had been his intention. Maybe he hadn’t wanted saving. What if you’d betrayed him by letting him live?

Eventually the doctor came back once the shrink had visited with Spencer. They’d reviewed his medical history, spoken to Doctor Ortega and determined he wasn’t outwardly suicidal.

He’d gone on to explain that his dissociative disorder caused a shift in normal behaviour. There was a part of Spencer, one that lived deep within in his fractured psyche that harboured these kinds of thoughts but it only presented itself when he fell into one of these states.

Their main concern was trying to stem the dissociations, and aid him in experiencing them less frequently. The doctor was confident that when he wasn’t dissociating he wasn’t a threat to himself. But the stronger dosage of his med was yet to fully kick in, they hoped that when it did he would experience them less.

You’d listened and stored the information but it all went a little over your head. Your brain was sheathed in a thick fog, still ruminating on the sight of the blood, on Spencer’s unconscious body.

Before leaving the doctor told you that Spencer was asking to see you.

The emotions that swirled within you when you finally got up from the chair were nearly overwhelming. You experienced them all at once, a tornado of feelings all begging to be felt.

You were terrified, you were sad. You were grateful he was alive but so fucking angry at him for putting you in this position.

You found him in the hospital bed, his entire forearm bandaged in a thick gauze and set with a splint as his arm was still broken.

He had an IV attached to the back of his hand and a thin sheet draped over his lower half. His expression as you entered the room was unreadable.

You shuffled further into the room, closer to his bedside but didn’t come too close for fear you might slap him for his stupidity.

His eyes were hooded, his lips dry and chapped and pulled into a thin, tight line. His hair was damp and stuck to his forehead.

He wouldn’t make eye contact with you, instead stared down at the drip in his hand, flexing his fingers and watching the way the movement caused his vein to throb.

“You could have died.” Your voice was rough and scratchy, you hadn’t had anything to drink since you’d been here. “I thought you were dead.”

“There’s really not much point in me explaining myself.” He huffed out a breath. “We all know what happened. I dissociated, I cut myself. There’s no use me sitting here and telling you I didn’t mean to do, because I guess there’s a part of me that did. But the conscious part of my brain, the dominant part, didn’t mean to do it. I’m not suicidal, I don’t want to die.”

“You scared the shit out of me.” You wrapped your arms around your waist although it was too late to protect yourself now.

It couldn’t be unseen, the blood would never wash away from your memory.

He heard the trembling of your voice and he looked up at you now. You looked so tiny and fragile at that moment.

“In my defence,” he shrugged meekly. “I did ask you not to leave me alone.”

The way your eyes widened in disbelief wasn’t a surprise to him. He could feel the anger radiating off of you from his words.

“So this is my fault?”

“I didn’t say-”

“I can just never leave you alone for fear you’re going to do something like this?” You spat. “I can’t live like that! I was gone for a fucking hour, Spencer! And I come home to find you covered in blood, unconscious! I can’t live like that. I lost both of my parents Spencer, I can’t lose another person I love!”

He shrunk back against the pillows, rolling his lip between his teeth.

“I can’t change this about myself, Y/N.” He whispered. “I wish I could, trust me when I say there is no one who wants me to get better more than I do. Maybe you’d be best to leave. I’m no good for you, I’m no good for anyone.”

“Don’t start that self deprecating BS again. You’re not going to get rid of me so easily. But you have to let me help you. If you’d told me the reason you didn’t want me to leave was because you were scared this would happen I would have stayed. I thought you were just being needy.” You started angry but as you talked your voice softened, more sounding fed up by the time you reached the end.

Spencer was toying with the IV, not trying to remove it, just gently fiddling with it to distract himself.

“I know. I knew as soon as you walked out of the door that I should have said something. The stronger dosage of my meds hasn’t taken effect yet, I guess. But asking for help is a really big thing for me. In my whole life I’ve never really had anyone I could depend on, only myself. Even after prison, I pushed Luke away because I was adamant I could handle things on my own.” He sulked, pouting his bottom lip.

“Yeah, and look how well that worked out for you.” You sighed with a roll of your eyes.

“I…I know I said it would be best for you to walk away but…please don’t? I know I’m a lot, I know I’m fucked up. But you’re just about the best thing that has ever happened to me and I can’t lose you.” A few tears crept from his eyes and your chest constricted.

You shuffled closer to the hospital bed and perched on a small empty space next to Spencer’s ribs. He immediately took hold of your hand, you were careful not to disturb his IV as you curled your fingers around it.

“I told you, you’re not getting rid of me so easily. But you have to try Spencer, you have to talk to me if you think you’re at risk of dissociating or something. I might not be able to stop it happening but I can at the very least stop you from hurting yourself while you’re out. You have to involve me.” Your voice still held a hint of sternness, wanting him to know that you meant what you were saying.

“I promise I will try.” He nodded, offering you a tired smile.

It was understandable that he was drained, and you gave his hand a soft squeeze before letting it and sliding off the bed.

“You should rest.” You told him, his eyes already growing heavier.

“Hmm, rest would be nice.” He agreed.

“I’m going to go back to the ranch and clean up but I'll be back I’ll a few hours okay?”

Spencer looked at you now, brows pinched and noticing for the first time that your shirt was covered in blood. His stomach coiled and he grimaced.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.” He whined.

“It’s okay.” You shrugged. “Just try and get some sleep, I’ll be back in a little while.”

Spencer nodded, shuffling himself down the pillows and tangling his good hand in the bedsheets. He didn’t speak again and neither did you, choosing to silently retreat from the room instead.

You barely had it closed behind you before Spencer started to violently sob out of nowhere. Tears broke free in heavy waves and his body started to wrack under the weight of it all.

He should not have dragged you into his messed up life. Maybe it would have been better all around if you’d left him to die on the side of the road.

***

Before you bothered to shower and change out of your blood stained clothes, you set about cleaning Spencer’s lodge so he didn’t have to return home to this mess.

You tried to ignore the metallic smell of the dried blood as you got on your knees and scrubbed the tarnished floorboards. The hardest part was getting it out from the cracks between them but you were thankful the floor was dark and it was hardly noticeable.

You were glad for Spencer having a leather couch as at least it hadn’t seeped deep within porous fibres. Still though, you couldn’t get it completely clean and the arm of the couch would forever be marked. If you let yourself pretend, you could imagine it was simply a red wine stain.

Surveying your work you didn’t feel satisfied like you’d hoped. You could still see the blood in your mind, maybe you always would. Perhaps you would never be able to shake the image of Spencer half dead in a pool of his own blood.

You had tears in your eyes by the time you were finished cleaning and dragging yourself to the bathroom. You didn’t look at your clothes as you stripped them off, planning to dispose of them later.

It was only once you were in the shower that you let your tears fall. They mixed with the water coursing over you as you cried quietly into your hands.

You hoped that once his stronger dosage kicked in it would help stem his dissociative episodes. Even if it didn’t get rid of them entirely, they had to at least make them less frequent.

You’d told Spencer he would never have a normal life with you, forever looking over his shoulder. But it was apparent you would also never have a normal life with him. And there might come a day where you are just too late to save his life.

***

You returned to the hospital to find Spencer sleeping peacefully and you couldn’t help the way it angered you that he could be so relaxed. You weren’t sure you’d ever have a decent night sleep again.

When Spencer woke up he made small talk to fill the void which was normally something you took the mantle of, but you found you didn’t have much to say.

It was morning by the time Spencer was discharged and you were physically and mentally drained.

The doctors didn’t re-cast his arm as he needed to be able to let his new wound heal, instead they left him in the removable split. He was told he needed to take it off for at least a few hours a day to allow his stitched cut to breathe but to exercise extreme caution as his broken bones weren’t yet fully healed. When he wasn’t wearing the splint he still needed to wear a sling to keep his arm stabilised and reduce motion.

The drive back to his ranch was spent in stifled silence. By the time you arrived back you couldn’t wait to curl up in bed and try to put this ordeal behind you.

You went to pass him as he hovered near the car, straight up to your own lodge but he gently reached out and circled his fingers around your wrist.

“Where are you going?” He asked, voice croaky and unsure.

“To sleep. I’m exhausted.” You snatched your arm out of his grip.

He looked wounded by your words, like they caused him physical pain. You always slept in his bed, he’d grown accustomed to falling asleep next you, waking up and your face being the first thing he saw.

For years he’d hated sharing his personal space like that but he’d quickly gotten used to you being there.

“Can’t you, uh, you usually sleep in there?” He nodded his head towards his own lodge.

You huffed out a deep breath, scratching the back of your neck in discomfort.

“I just want to be alone right now, Spencer.” You shrugged, turning away from him.

You got a few steps before his voice caught your attention again.

“Sorry that my dissociative suicide attempt has pissed you off.” He spat harshly.

You immediately tensed, turning back to look at him. His eyes were dark with his anger and you imagined yours were much the same.

“Is that supposed to be fucking funny?” You folded your arms across your chest.

“Not in the slightest.” He mirrored your position despite how hard it was with his splint.

“While you were resting up in the hospital, I was scrubbing blood out of your floorboards.” You scowled at him.

“Thought you’d be used to large amounts of blood.” He scoffed.

“Wow,” You shook your head. “Just fucking wow.”

You spun away from him again and started storming towards the spare lodge. The rage filled every pore, every nerve ending. If you didn’t leave you would surely say something you would regret. But Spencer wouldn’t let it lie.

“I’m sorry this has been an inconvenience to you but it hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park for me either.” He raised his voice and you heard the gravel crunching under foot as he followed you. “I could have died! And despite there clearly being some part of my brain that desired that outcome, for the most part I did not want that. And you’re treating me like this is my fault!”

“Who else’s fault is it?” You spun once more, raising your voice. “No one made you cut your arm open Spencer.”

“I’m sick.” He hissed. “I told you that day one. I told you I wasn’t well, that you shouldn’t get close to me but you did it anyway. I gave you fair warning that I am fucked up in the head so don’t act like this is new information. I’m sorry you had to witness it and I am sorry you had to clean up after my mess but you were warned.”

“There’s fucked up and then there’s goddamn suicidal Spencer!” You yelled. “How many times will I have to clean your blood off of the floor? How many times before I find you actually dead? I love you, you idiot! I can’t watch you die.”

Spencer softened a little, his eyes downturned and his arms falling back to his sides. He knew you had a point. As much as he couldn’t control his behaviour when he dissociated, he could take measures to stop the dissociation in the first place. He knew his grounding techniques, he knew it was possible.

But he allowed himself to be consumed by it, threw himself over to it rather than trying to fight against it. And he could have very well died, you could have found his dead body. And he knew that wasn’t fair.

He’d seen his share of corpses in his time with the BAU. It got easier over time, he distanced himself from it, grew hardened by it. But he never had a connection to those people, didn’t know them from Adam.

Spencer remembered with startling clarity what it had been like to watch Maeve die. Having an eidetic memory meant he could recall every little detail of that day, watching the life snuff out behind her eyes, her body collapsing to the floor in a pool of hers and Diane Turner’s blood.

It still haunted him from time to time, witnessing someone he loved be taken away from him in such a brutal way. He knew exactly what you meant then, and he would never want to put another person through what he had been through.

“I, uh,” he swallowed. “Years ago, my girlfriend was murdered right in front of me.” He confessed, his chest tightening as he did so. Your expression softened as you looked at him, silently telling him to continue, so he did. “I will never forget it, not as long as I live. I don’t want to do that to you.”

You inhaled sharply, completely thrown off by his sudden admittance. You felt the previous anger asusaging, but it didn’t vanish thoroughly.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” You lowered your voice. “I still just need to be alone right now though, okay?”

“Fine,” Spencer shook his head sadly.

“Try to sleep or something. I’ll see you later on.” You turned and this time he didn’t stop you.

He watched you retreat towards the second lodge, arms wrapped around yourself as you went. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, a dull throb coursing down his arm. He stood still until you disappeared up the steps and let yourself into the cabin.

When he finally turned to his own lodge, tears were hindering his vision as he pathetically dragged his body towards the door, thinking to himself, happy fucking birthday you moron.

***

You laid in bed for several hours staring at the ceiling but eventually must have fallen asleep as the next thing you knew it was past four pm. So much for throwing Spencer a birthday celebration.

You sat up in bed. You were on top of the covers and still fully dressed. Your bags of shopping from yesterday were sitting on the floor by the door and your stomach coiled. It was Spencer’s birthday and you didn’t want him to be alone, to believe no one cared. But you were also still a little frustrated at him.

You pushed yourself up and stood, stretching your limbs as you did so. You knew inevitably that you would go through with your plan even if you were still angry at him. No one should have to celebrate their birthday alone.

You showered for a long time, trying to re-energise yourself for the task ahead. You let the water caress your aching limbs for longer than was necessary and once you were done, took your time getting dressed.

You picked out a dress from a store in town similar to the floral off the shoulder number Spencer had liked so much on you. It was a deep, royal purple in colour, you had assumed it to be a favourite of his and slipped on a pair of cheap black patent heels you’d also purchased on your trip to town.

The dress was billowy and reminiscent of 1950s swing style dresses. It cinched you in at the waist, hugged your curves and showed off your legs. Looking at your reflection you had to admit it looked wonderful on you, but it did nothing to soothe your mood.

Regardless, you pressed on. You took your shopping bags and the cheap fold up craft table you’d bought and snuck out of the lodge, glancing left and then right to see if Spencer was lurking around. Hopefully he would be sleeping still or reading or something and not up at the stable.

Thankfully the stable was empty, aside from the four horses who were all pleased to see you, although to varying degrees. Rusty was the most excited, making appeasing huffing sounds when she saw you. Willow and Franklin both made noises of greeting while Wilbur simply glanced at you briefly before returning to his trough of food. Clearly Spencer had been here at some point while you’d been resting as they’d been fed and groomed.

You went about setting everything up. You unfolded the craft table and set it up far enough away from all four steeds that they wouldn't be able to reach the party food you then set up on it. You filled little paper bowls and plates with cocktail sausages, mini sausage rolls, bowls of chips and dips and several bottles of flavoured pop.

The centrepiece was a large red velvet cake for which you stuck five candles in, having no idea how old Spencer turned today. You hung happy birthday banners and streams of bunting all around the stable before collecting the pile of gifts and cards left by Luke from your closet. You donned a party hat, and gave the stable a once over.

It looked like a slightly sad kids birthday celebration, certainly not what you’d had in mind but it was the best you could do at such short notice. You still had a pang of annoyance towards Spencer in your gut but you tried to push past it, at least just for today.

Once you were finished preparing, it was dark outside. You closed the barn doors and typed out a quick text to Spencer asking him to come to the stable before you stood awkwardly and waited.

He could very well have been asleep still, or even if he wasn’t he didn’t always have his phone nearby. You could be waiting ages. But less than two minutes later you received a reply.

📲 Spencer Reid: I just got out the shower, can you give me five minutes? Is everything okay?

You responded to let him know everything was fine and made up a quick lie about needing him to check out a sore on Rusty’s back. And so you waited. According to your phone seven minutes passed between you sending the second text and the sound of footsteps heading up towards the stable.

You held your breath, instinctively wrapping your arms around yourself whilst rolling your lip between your teeth. You heard him getting closer and before long the large barn door creaked open and Spencer took a step inside.

He only made it one step before he stilled, eyes quickly flitting around the stable, from you and that dress, to the party hat on your head, to the decorations and to the table packed with food and gifts.

He looked back over at you, a questioning expression on his features. He was dressed in dark jeans and a red flannel shirt with the top few buttons undone. His hair was slightly damp on the ends from his shower and he wore his sling, arm cradled against his chest. He opened his mouth but the words got caught in his throat.

“Uh, Luke left you a bunch of gifts on your doorstep.” You shrugged. “He was talking through the door, thought you might have been in there and before he left I heard him say, Happy birthday for Friday.”

Spencer’s wide eyes once again wandered around the stable, taking it all in once more as though he couldn’t quite believe any of it was actually there. When they landed back on you, you could see the unshed tears causing his eyes to sparkle.

“It’s been…” he cleared his throat, eyebrows pinching together. “It’s been a long time since someone did something for my birthday.”

“You’re welcome?” You shrugged again.

He took a few steps forward and picked up a party hat from the table, inspecting it in his hand as if he’d never seen one before. After a few long seconds, he raised it to his head and pulled the elastic under his chin to secure it, which looked particularly cumbersome with one hand but he managed it.

“You did all this for me?” He croaked.

“I mean, it's not much.” You waved him off.

“You were planning all of this for me and I…fuck…I am so sorry.” He shook his head.

“Don’t.” You shook yours too. “Not now. Just, uh, lets just enjoy this okay?”

Spencer exhaled through his nose, stepping closer to you and raising his good hand to rest on your hip. His eyes grazed up and down the dress and the way it hugged your figure in the most sinfully perfect way.

“Was this for my benefit also?” His lip quipped at the corner.

“It wasn’t for mine.” You rolled your eyes. “So what birthday are we celebrating, Doctor Reid?”

He shuddered at your use of his honorific the way you knew he would.

“Uh, a big one I guess.” He sighed. “I turned forty today.”

“Ohh old man.” You teased.

“Wow, thanks for that.” He chuckled. “They say forty is the new thirty.”

“Who says that?” You laughed as he edged his way closer until your bodies were flush together.

“Me, I said that. And you know, you’re only as old as you feel?” He pulled a face. In reality he felt so much older than forty.

“I think the term you’re looking for is that you’re only as old as the person you’re feeling.” You smirked devilishly at him and he shuddered again.

“Well in that case, I’m in luck.” He chuckled, bowing his head and kissing you while his hand groped at the fabric of your dress.

The kiss grew heated rapidly, his tongue hungrily exploring your mouth whilst all your previous anger towards him died on his lips. But before he could get too carried away, you pushed him lightly by his shoulder.

“You have gifts to open. And cake to eat.” You chuckled at his eagerness.

“I thought you were my gift?” He whined.

“Not a chance, cowboy.” You stepped back from his hold. “You have to enjoy the world's most depressing birthday party first.”

Spencer couldn’t hold back the laugh as he glanced back at the display of food and gifts. He nodded in agreement, knowing the chances were likely if the two of you started to get intimate he would back off and ruin the night.

He didn’t want that.

So instead he reluctantly picked at the food and eyes up the gifts and cards all adorned with several sets of handwriting he knew so well.

He wished he could be grateful that his old friends still cared enough to send him gifts, but they only left him feeling disheartened.

***

After stuffing his face with all manner of party food and two large slices of cake, he hesitantly started on the presents sent by the BAU team.

Garcia got him another horse plushie to match the grey one she’d sent to him a few months after he left Virginia. Rossi sent a new brown suede stetson which Spencer could tell was incredibly pricey.

Tara and Emily gifted him a few flannel shirts and a t-shirt which somewhat cringingly proclaimed ‘Everything's Bigger in Texas.’

JJ sent him a book full of drawings Henry and Michael had done of Spencer and his horses, the first page of which, in JJ’s neat cursive read: ‘The Log of a Doctor turned Cowboy - the Spencer Reid Chronicles.’

Luke’s gift and card remained untouched. He stared at it for several long minutes before casting it aside, silently telling you he didn’t want it. The final gift was a small box for which you handed him shyly. He toyed with it in his hands and you chewed on your lip.

“It’s not much.” You shrugged. “I, uh, I didn’t know what to get you.”

Spencer glanced up at you with a soft smile before focusing back on the box in his hand. He’d already removed his sling to allow him to open the gifts but under your very watchful eye to ensure he didn’t exacerbate his injuries.

You had to go out to Pipe Creek for this specific gift as there was a wider range of shopping available. You were extremely lucky that you could get such a personalised gift on such short notice, paying extra for the blacksmith to craft this for you as quickly as possible.

Spencer lifted the lid and you watched his brows furrow as he cautiously removed the item from inside the bed of shredded paper. He hooked it on his finger and raised it in front of his eyeline as he inspected every intricate detail of the small gift.

It was a keychain with several metal pendants hanging from the loop. Four silver names dangled from the centre loop, Willow, Wilbur, Franklin and Rusty. The focal point was a circular metal disk about the size of his old NA chip. It was mostly black, but embossed in silver was the shape of stars and constellations.

Around the outside, curling with the curve of the disk were the engraved words ‘the night your star crossed with mine.’ He looked back at you, the unshed tears once again prominent behind his eyes, questioning without the use of words.

“The night we met, when I came back here whilst you were in the hospital, I just sat on your porch and stared at the stars. It was the first time I’d ever really had the chance to see them properly. And every night since I look up at them and think how beautiful they are and how if it wasn’t for us meeting I may never have had the simple pleasure of looking at the stars in the sky.

“I found an image online of exactly what the sky over your ranch looked like that first night, the night our stars crossed. There's a blacksmith in Pipe Creek who is seriously under utilised because he made that in like a half hour. It was really impressive.” You babbled a little.

Spencer looked back at the keyring then back at you several times in quick succession. When he finally settled on you, his tears escaped his eyes and started rolling down his cheeks.

“I think this might be…” He croaked. “The nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Oh don’t say that, that’s just sad.” You chuckled with a shake of your head, making Spencer laugh too despite his tears.

“That’s a maybe, but it's painfully true.” He stepped closer to you, setting the box back on the table but still holding the keychain. “I love you so, so much,Y/N.”

“Happy birthday, stud.” You giggled as he kissed you once more. “Slow your horses, cowboy.”

“Mmm, do I have to?” He mumbled against your lips.

“Yah huh, your birthday isn't over yet.”

“Oh no, what else have you planned?”

“We’re going to see some live music down at the Wildhorse Saloon. I thought it was kind of apt seeing as we met in part because of a wild horse.” You nodded your head in Rusty’s direction.

“I think that sounds more fun for you than it does for me?” He frowned a little.

“Probably,” you nodded. “But you really do need more fun in your life.”

“I have plenty of fun.” He scoffed, placing the keychain gently back inside the box.

“Yeah, okay,” you rolled your eyes. “You might enjoy it, and besides, I didn’t get this dressed up to hang out in a horse stable all night.”

“I thought it was for my benefit?” Spencer struggled with his sling and you came closer so you could help secure it around his neck.

“It was, mostly.” You shrugged. “But this dress demands to be seen.”

“Trust me when I say I am seeing it.” He hissed as you stepped back around to face him and his eyes grazed up and down the garment.

“Humour me?” You tilted your head to the side. “I’d really like to just cut loose after, you know, everything.”

Spencer exhaled loudly, knowing you were right. It might be his birthday but you had been through a lot with finding him hurt and having to clean up his blood. And honestly, Spencer had a hard time saying no to you.

“Fine, okay.” He shrugged. “But if you plan on cutting loose we’ll probably be best to walk. I can’t drive or ride with my arm strapped in this thing.”

“Deal.” You agreed with an almost smug smile, but Spencer didn’t reciprocate. “Oh come on, Doc, you might surprise yourself and actually have a good time.”

“I highly doubt that.” He huffed, watching you saunter past him to the door. “But I’ll be damned if I could ever deny you anything.”

“That’s the spirit.” You laughed, swinging the door open.

“I am, however, not wearing this party hat.” He scrambled after you.

“I’ll allow it.” You clucked, continuing down the gravel path and hearing him latch the barn door closed before hurrying after you.

As you headed away, a pang of anger let itself be known in the pit of your stomach. No matter how hard you tried to get past it you couldn’t stop picturing Spencer slumped in a pool of his own blood.

You knew for a fact alcohol was only going to intensify that feeling. And you were sure the chances were that this night would end in disaster. But it didn’t stop you from going ahead with it anyway, despite your better judgement.

@kalulakunundrum @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @babyspiderling

#spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

72 notes · View notes

nqmonarch · 4 months

Text

Aeon Lover AU Part 2

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/nqmonarch/749257688234557440/aeon-brainrot?source=share

Characters: Aha, IX

Note: This AU I plan to eventually make Yandere, not in this part but I feel like it's good to let people (my fellow small crowd of Aeon lovers) know.

You stared at Aha's human form, not breaking eye contact as a manic grin stayed on their face. "So you're Aha?"

"Maybeee, maybe I am, maybe I'm not! Does it matter? I'm just here to help you!" They said trying to act all innocent, and blinking their long eye lashes once and then twice.

You paused for a moment, observing the person in front of you. You took a step forward and Aha remained still completely oblivious to your nefarious intentions. You reached your hands out to them and they immediately grabbed them with their own, interlocking them. Holy shit-- your whole body overloaded with that move as your face begin to burn and jumped away.

"Wasn't that what you were trying to do?" Aha asked coyly, smiling at you and holding their empty hand out to you.

You grabbed onto their hand, trying to move it out of the way of their body, "No, I'm trying to undress you," Aha froze at your words mouth twitching, "This body is just a medium right? I'm hoping you didn't steal it... But if you created it I want to see if there's any discrepancies between it and a human body." Perhaps there'd be some kind of dead give away?

The only thing that suggested that Aha wasn't human was their other worldly beauty. "Why did you choose to be so attractive anyway? How much can you change your form?" You asked leaning closer to observe them, a small mole rested beneath the tip of their left eye.

Now that Aha's hand was successfully pushed to the side you tried to remove your hand from it, only to feel their fingers dig into your skin and your hand unable to move. Whatever, you didn't mind holding hands with them the warmth felt nice and made your heart race, albeit that was a bit distracting.

Aha had leaned away from you a bit, their red lips quivering as they held in a laugh before breaking into full out giggles. "Ahaha, you're so forward Y/N," Their eyes flickered over to you, "If you wanted to sleep with me you could've just said so?" They teased you.

You paused at their words, that... being with an Aeon were you worthy of that? Could anyone be worthy of that? Fantasizing was one thing but... if you were given the chance... your head was getting too muddled with thoughts of this. Aha was just joking anyway but if there was an Aeon that would be up to sleeping with a human for fun then... it would probably be Aha wouldn't it?

"What did you mean earlier when you said you were here to help me?" You asked changing the topic and averting your eyes from them. You tried to pull your hand away again but it stuck to Aha's. Your head shot up, "Did you glue our hands together?!"

Aha laughed, staring down at you, "I was going to be your wingman for an Aeon but--"

"Really?!" You perked up immediately throwing your other arm around Aha's back and holding him closer. You didn't bother moving your glued hand and instead kept it in Aha's grasp. "That'd really be amazing!" It was no wonder Aha would find entertainment from trying to set a normal human up with an Aeon.

You'd read that he once picked up a random worm and made it incredibly intelligent to try and grab the attention of Nous. When it failed he discarded the worm without a second thought. It was weird to think you were on the same level as a worm but hey, it gave you a chance to maybe meet another Aeon. You stared at Aha's face, noticing the slightly furrowed sharp eyebrows and their eyes cast downward. You wondered if they'd show you their Aeon form one day?

Either way they seemed a bit upset right now? Annoyed? Perhaps they were just holding in their laugh super hard right now. You deemed that it was probably the latter as a smile overtook their face.

"Of course! " They grinned letting out a small giggle and holding up their entwined hand with yours, and dashing behind you, "I'm so sad! You're over me already!" You knew it was a joke but for some reason you felt a great feeling of heartbreak come over you. You felt like falling to your knees but you stood still anyway feeling one of Aha's arms circle around your neck.

You smiled despite the discomfort, "Well every Aeon is beyond interesting. It'd be nice to meet..." You felt like you were choking, "another one. Obviously, I don't imagine anything beyond meeting them," You admitted feeling your insecurity well up.

Aha laughed wildly and for once you felt on edge around them. You had been acting rather foolishly recently, trusting an Aeon especially one with such chaotic goals, you should be more wary.

"You want to see an Aeon's true form?" Aha asked you, and you could feel their breath on your ear.

Interesting if this was a body they made then they'd gotten the heat aspect down completely, from the warmth of their body to the heat of their breath. You wondered if at any point Aha had been a human. Tayzzyronth had been the last of its species. Nanook was suspected to have come from a planet riddled with destruction and upon seeing the destruction of the aftermath of Tayzzyronth and the Mechanical Empire rose to Aeonhood. But how did the majority of the Aeons start? What were they? Who was Aha before they were an Aeon?

"Wait," You froze finally registering Aha's question, "I... could see an Aeon's true form?" Your heart beat as fast as a humming bird.

"Do you want to? I think it'll be fun," Aha asked again, you could feel their abdomen shake against you and you realized how poorly this could go depending on what Aha found most entertaining.

You could see an Aeon which wouldn't care for you or even glance at you, like Nous. Or Aha may somehow know where Nanook is, and teleport you to that Aeon and... you'd seen what happened to the trailblazer when they met Nanook in the simulated universe. The trailblazer had been immediately killed. That being said Aha didn't really need your consent and you had an inkling that if you said no, you'd meet an Aeon's true form anyway. Plus, it's not like you weren't curious.

"Of course I do." You barely finished speaking before you felt a sudden amount of joy fill you, ecstasy flooded your senses, and your lips opened by themselves letting laughter escape them. The sudden amount of power distracted you from your inability to breathe.

You were in space. Yet you still felt warm, you felt unbearably happy, and you saw Aha in their human form behind you. They laughed at your expression, "My reveal should be the last!" They chattered on excitedly, "But you wouldn't really be able to be here without any help. So I lended a helping hand!" Their eyes were wide with joy and you felt the urge to pat their head.

So you did. "Thank you." They stared at you a bit stunned for a moment, cheeks with a bit more color than usual despite being in space, but you thought nothing of it as they grabbed onto your shoulders and turned you around.

"Look!" Their voice was quiet and strained, you could hear the smile in their voice.

But all of the warmth you felt quickly disappeared as you stared at the Aeon in front of you. Purple swirls and a black mysterious mass stared back at you for a brief moment. You looked into the abyss and the abyss looked back.

To an extent you'd always known that the world would eventually become nothing. That everything you worked toward, no matter how long it benefitted humanity, would eventually disappear with humanity itself. That the planets themselves would fall apart inevitably being swallowed by blackholes which would become nothing themselves. That one day even the fundamental parts of the universe would cease to exist.

That the nothingness you couldn't comprehend would one day be all there is.

You couldn't even sob. The fear that had existed in your body initially had turned into numbness, not numbness it turned into nothingness. You weren't afraid. You weren't anything. It was just

There was something holding you back. A faint warmth coming from your hand, which you found unable to move. You were stuck to something. Aha! You let yourself laugh, your mouth didn't move nor did any sound come out. It didn't feel as if you had a mouth or any form of a body but you did.

You knew one day everything you did would amount to nothing. That's why everything you did wasn't focused on the future. It was enough to enjoy the moment, and tomorrow. You'd had the opportunity to meet such a wonderful Aeon after all. You stared at the black and purple cosmos in front of you, the eyes on it no longer glancing your way. You no longer felt enthralled with joy or burdened with despair but rather, you felt like you.

Your life was insignificant in the grand scheme of things. That was exactly why you could enjoy in the beauty of what was insignificant. Of the flowers in Spring, of the creations in the simulated universe, of the people around you.

"How beautiful," Your voice came out soft as you gazed upon the lonely being. You smiled feeling a fire rise within you. No wonder there was a whole faction dedicated to making such a magnificent creature see the purpose in existing.

Aha laughed, "I'm surprised you didn't fall to nihility! Three cheers for Y/N!" The glue between your hand and theirs seemed to have faded away, as they brought their hands up to clap and cheer out your name.

"I don't know, you sound a bit disappointed," You watched IX disappear from your sight wistfully and then turned to Aha with a smile resting on your face.

Aha held a hand to their chest in offense as they gasped, "I am! You're so mean! Acting like IX is that interesting when we both know I'm ten times more cool!"

You flicked their forehead, "Let's head back to Herta's space station now." Aha laughed, finding amusement in the smallest of actions and the two of you returned.

You managed to find your way back to the topic of IX again. Aha, being an Aeon, had never felt the nothingness from IX and had asked you to describe it.

You went into as much detail as you could and then spoke in a serious tone, "I'm surprised I made it. I knew everything does eventually become nothing, and I knew it isn't nothing right now. I knew that it's less about the meaning of our existence and life and more about the meaning of every day. But the sensation of becoming nothing is... indescribable."

You paused trying to analyze the feeling you'd come across, "For a creature that doesn't know much or one whose only purpose is to live seeing the Nihility would be fatal. But humans... are beyond that. We still live but there are things we treasure above living and even the future of the whole universe." Your Aeon merch being one of them, "Even if one day those things were to disappear with everything else, it's enough for us to have had them in our lifetime. Maybe to an extent a permanent short sightedness is needed."

What you'd experience who can never be explained by any words, the absolute dread and despair. No matter how hard you tried to describe the sensation of nothingness to Aha you couldn't find the words. But you knew now how feeling nothing was worse than even feeling pain. Because from experiencing pain the pleasure and joy you later experienced became more defined and recognizable. You can only rise as high as the lowest you fall.

The good makes the bad worse and the bad makes the good better. They work in tandem. Even if the end result was nothingness for all of the time in between you still wanted to feel and you couldn't get rid of that innate want. Still your whole body trembled as you felt a smile rise to your face-- IX-- IX was just way too cool!

You turned to Aha, grabbing them and hugging them, "Aha! Thank you so much!" You grinned, you didn't want to tell them that their hand had been what brought you out of IX's trance, you wanted to keep that knowledge to yourself, "This may be the best day of my life yet!"

IX was a being withholding so much pain and despair, a creature just waiting for the end. But there was so much more than just the end. When reading a story, sometimes you know the two main characters will die that doesn't mean it isn't worth reading. And of course you wanted to show IX all there was.

Aha looked at you for a moment, face blank and speechless before hugging you back and erupting into laughter. You twirled the Aeon's human form around before letting go and began to ponder.

"Now I wonder... would it be possible for IX to take a human form?"

It would be difficult to bring the Aeon the beauties and wonders of life, as well as the pains considering they were just floating in the sky. It'd be easier if you could bring the Aeon around, but even if they did have a human form you weren't sure you'd be able to drag them around anyway. Even after surviving the encounter you got the feeling your emotions and will to live would numb around them if you spent a long time with them. You'd just have to get stronger first!

Okay writing the emotions IX gives you is a toughie DAMN don't know how I'm going to make the romance work out but I'm sure future me will work something out

I love you future me!!! :) <333 can't wait to romance IX show me what u got!!!

also when i wrote this line "When reading a story, sometimes you know the two main characters will die that doesn't mean it isn't worth reading." i went into one story knowing the two characters both died at the end by driving off a cliff and i still cried despite rarely crying, it was only 6 chapters and one of the best webcomics i've ever read to this day. so fucking worth it

i dont fucking know what powers Aeons have but i'm pretty sure super speed and shit is one of them cause in SU Qlipoth just like appeared at the beginning cus they thought Trailblazer was Akivili and if that creature can like teleport or do super speed fuck it everyone can.

#hsr #hsr x reader #reader insert #gn reader #aeons x reader #hsr aha x reader #hsr IX x reader #aha x reader #ix x reader #HOW THE FUCK DO U WRITE A ROMANCE WITH IX #IS THAT POSSIBLE #thankfully this moves a bit slower so i have time to figure it out #eventual yandere #not in this part though #eventual harem #not in this part yet though we've met 2 of many

96 notes · View notes