#Especially since one has to fill the time between one chapter and the other which is one month.

[kyouka-supremacy]

Me the next manga chapter: Okay can we skip everything else and get directly to the cool sskk scene

[plutoswritingplanet]

Hand That Feeds (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader)

a/n: as promised, here's the full chapter. as a person who's only played skyrim and oblivion, writing for fallout is like throwing a hot dog into an empty corridor (i will not elaborate)

Warnings: Suggestive Themes, Attempted Kidnapping, Medical Malpractice, Cooper is a mean old man with a boner. Takes place before the events of the TV series.

Summary: The Ghoul takes up a bounty that has been gathering dust for quite some time. You, bored out of your mind, decide getting kidnapped might be the perfect way to entertain yourself. Both of you bite off more than you can chew. Cross-Posted on AO3

PT. 2

Copper knows this job will be different, before he even decides to take it up. 

Scribbled with flaky charcoal, your face looks at him from the notice board every time he delivers a bounty. For months now, a humble title of "The Healer" hangs without change, between criminals, raiders, and people who were in the wrong place, at the wrong time. 

Cooper hasn't considered going for you, it was never his first choice. The bounty on your head was moderately low, in comparison to your notice board neighbors.  He had other priorities, bigger than a smeared over pretty face, for half his usual reward.

Until one day, as he stomped his way through the dusty floor, his eyes caught onto your wanted poster yet again. 

Well, to be frank, his eyes strayed towards your portrait almost every time he crossed the threshold, but he would never admit it to anyone, let alone himself. Like a constant companion, overlooking all his accomplishments since he decided to stick around the place, your empty gaze followed every transaction, every head delivered onto the table. Some semblance of a routine, he supposed, looking over the board. 

 There, under the regular information, freshly painted numbers stared back at him. A new bounty, significantly bigger than any reward on the board. The red paint was still dripping down the yellowed paper, the addition must've been made quite recently. 

A hefty price. One, that would supply him with enough chems to last for half a year at least. Tempting. Especially now, that he's down to only a couple of vials, his coughing fits becoming longer and closer between. So tempting, in fact, that he tears your wanted poster from the board, finally getting a closer look, a deliberate one. 

Booker gives him a raised eyebrow, all the commentary needed, encapsulated in this simple gesture, and Cooper shoots him a nasty look. There aren't many requirements regarding the job, except one, annoying detail. 

You have to be alive and in good condition. 

Now, alive Cooper could do. Alive is easy. Good condition, however, opened a whole shitbag of problems, which he would be a fool to overlook. Still, the prospect of such money couldn't be ignored. And, he'd be damned to admit it, but he was curious. Who were you? Why haven't you been caught for such a long time? What caused this sudden raise in bounty?

- Did you piss someone off that bad, little lady? - he asks the yellowed paper, and gets no answer, as expected. 

***

The bar is filled with patrons, all tripping over themselves to loose as many caps on cheap alcohol and chems from under the table. It's not as rowdy, as one would expect. This settlement must be one of the few more civilized ones, for the Wasteland's standards at least. Farmers, mechanics, shopkeepers, they all clam together, smelling of smoke, sweat, and alcohol. 

You're here too, hunched over your drink with a sour expression. Your shoulders are slumped, covered by a piece of cloth, that used to be a shawl, but currently looks more like a rag used to wipe down countertops. Despite that, Cooper sees in the way your body is poised, taunt and graceful, that you're neither a naive Vault Dweller, nor a scruffy raider. A skinny scarf is tied around your neck in a fashion, that reminds Cooper of the old westerns he used to star in. 

The sudden influx of memories is neither wanted, nor useful, and he clicks his teeth in annoyance at his own betraying mind.

The Healer, he thinks to himself, making his way through the crowds, until he reaches the side of the bar, one seat from you. Not a glance is spared in his direction. The townsfolk must be used to seeing Ghouls run around the place. Still, when he orders a glass of moonshine, out of the corner of his eye, he can see you peaking at him with curiosity. There's a intelligent glint in your eye, and Cooper feels a shiver of curiosity climbing up his back. He scolds himself for being too old imediately after. 

By all that's holy, you look tired. And not the kind of tired, that sticks to a person living in the Wastelands, no. It's the exhaustion of a shitty day, dragging your eyelids down to flutter against creeping up sleep. The alcohol can't be helping your state, however, it will most definitely help Cooper. He almost feels sorry for you, but if your dumb enough to leave yourself in the open like that, while being hunted, there's nothing more he can do but take advantage. 

Cooper turns his face ever so slightly towards you, looking over your expression for any signs of recognition. He sees none, more than that, there is no emotion at all, not even a blink at his fucked up face. Raising his hand, he touches the rim of his hat in a wordless greeting. 

That finally wrenches some resemblance of a reaction out of you, and with a blink, you tip your glass towards him, before downing its contents. Your cheeks are flushed, lips wet with remnants of moonshine and there's a lock of hair falling out of place, and damn it, Cooper suddenly feels so old.

Ordering drinks while in your current state wasn't the most intelligent thing you could've done. The harsh taste of alcohol burned your throat in a way that was less than pleasant, and for a moment you consider turning to some good old chems for help with... Well everything really. 

It started with Old Lady Sal. 

You've replaced her hip a while back with some scrap metal and a fuckload of reused body parts. Now, every other day she demands you check it out, make sure it's in working order. Which it always is. This isn't your first replaced hip, you know what you're doing.

Then, you had to sit through the insanely uncomfortable marriage offer from Old Lady Sal's grandson, who is not only dumb as a bag of rocks, but also fourteen. 

And to top it all off, suddenly everyone needs you to solve their particular pains of the day. There must be an epidemic of aching heads sweeping through the town, because as soon, as you flee from Old Lady Sal's home, you're being hounded by everyone and their mother, looking to you for help. You were in town for two hours, and your herbs reserve went down to one fucking leaf. 

The Ghoul keeps looking at you from under his hat, and at this point it's gotten from uncomfortable, to straight up creepy. You were not about to pretend this stranger's interest in your particular person didn't unnerve you. Although, thanks to your mother's efforts, and later your own, the town practically worshipped the ground you walked on, the same could not be said about the rest of the Wasteland. 

You had enemies. You had people, who would love to get their hands on you. You were also deeply aware of the bounty placed on your person. Last you checked, it was quite small, but Ghouls don't have it easy out there, and if there's anyone looking like a bounty hunter in this fine establishment, it's the shady guy giving you a shameless once-over. 

So, you place a couple of caps on the counter, and gather yourself best you can. 

Perhaps drinking on an empty stomach was not the best idea, because as soon as you slide off the barstool, your head does a flip. Your balance completely off, you trip over your own feet, already accepting the floor, as your soon-to-be companion. 

That's when something strangely warm wraps itself around your waist, hoisting you up against the counter. The Ghoul smells just about as pleasant as one would expect, but moonshine is a powerful sedative, and instinctually, you lean into the warm embrace. Eyelids flutter, as you look up into the sunken eyes of your savior, and you can see his throat move, as he swallows thickly. 

- Careful now, sweetheart - the voice is low and reminds you of wind whistling through leaves - Gotta keep you in good condition.

Now, if you were completely sober, or at least less drunk, those words would fire an orchestra of alarm bells in your head. Instead, you smile, teeth on full display, as you reach up, to undo a tattered scarf from around your neck. 

- Mmm - you sigh, throwing the piece of cloth across the Ghoul's shoulders - My hero. 

Then, you grab onto his arm, still holding a tight grip around your waist, and lift it up by the sleeve of his coat. Despite your drunken disposition, you duck under the limb gracefully, and shoot the Ghoul a nasty, fully aware smirk. Realization flickers across his face, but before he can move to catch you, a series of body-wrecking coughs shakes his entire frame. 

You hesitate just for a second. The instinct to help is ingrained into your very being, passed down like a mantle from your angel of a mother. But then, self-preservation kicks in, and as the strager reaches into the pocket of his coat, to find his inhaler, you're already out the door, throwing yourself into a mad dash towards your cabin.

You were drunk, not stupid. 

***

The sun has barely had time to rise, when you're rudely awoken by the sound of a fist, pounding desperately on your front door. Hard enough to make the hinges squeak and shake. 

It tears you from your already light sleep, and you scramble to your feet, hastily pulling a shirt over your head, as you make your way towards the entrance. Hand on your pistol, you look out through the small space between two planks, which make up your door. 

It's not hard to understand what is happening. You remember one of the men standing outside your door from the nearby town. Benny or something like that, you were never good at remembering names. Hanging on his arm was another, barely breathing man, who was currently bleeding out right onto your porch. Pete. This one you recognize as a farmer and a hunter. You've treated multiple bites and scratches on him. So did your mother. 

Cursing under your breath, you undid all the makeshift locks with record speed, throwing the door open.

- I'm sorry to bother your so early in the morning Healer - you wince at the title, already making a beeline for the table in your kitchen - Pete and I were just...

Both men follow you closely behind, Pete's boots making a disgusting, sloshing noise. 

- Put him here, face up - you command, throwing a couple of papers to the floor.

- ...Coming back from a night hunt, and this fucking Ghoul was asking around town about you...

- Cut his shirt - another command, thrown over your shoulder, as you begin to rummage through a cabinet filled with chemicals and various herbs, barely registering the words. 

- ...And when we started asking questions back at him, he just shot Peter, right then and there...

You pluck a couple of twisted, dried herbs into your trusty, stone mortar, spitting into it, to gather some moisture. Throwing a semi-clean rag at the man, your voice cuts through his rambling.

- Put pressure on it.

There is no exit wound, and you almost sigh with annoyance at the prospect of fishing out a bullet. It had to be done, however, putting your sleep depriation and a building headache aside, you scoop out some of the herbal paste with your fingers, before pushing past the man.

- Hold his legs down - you mutter, taking a blink-and-you-miss-it moment to check Pete's temperature.

- ...Thankfully, he didn't kill Pete on the spot, so I brought him here straight away.

Pete flinches on the table, as you apply the paste to the wound. That's about as big of a reaction he's capable of, given the amount of blood he just spilled onto your porch. Another thing to clean up, after you take care of the table. What a way to start a fucking day. You can see his eyes follow your movements, barely conscious, but still alive. Sweat beads and gathers at his brow, and you reach out with a clean rag, to dab it off his skin.

Then, as if coming out of a stupor, your eyebrows scrunch together. The story of this faithful encounter finally registering in your brain. 

- A man was asking about me? - you ask, despite already knowing the answer. 

- Well, kinda. A Ghoul. 

You knew which Ghoul, it was not difficult to piece together. 

- And he didn't kill Pete, just injured him - you can feel another headache brewing just behind your eyes, as the sheer stupidity of the man in front of you finally comes to the surface.

They led him to you. 

Three, steady knocks to your door, smug and confident, interrupt the conversation, and deep down you can see the future of every person present in this cabin. As if you've developed some magical powers. 

Stilling your suddenly trembing hands, you settle the mortar back on the table. Thenyou instruct the man to keep pressure once more. Covering yourself with a robe you got as payment for stitching up a sliced finger, you make your way to the door. Fabric flows around your feet, shuffling like the wings of a moth. 

Your eyes flicker to the side, where, placed against a wall, stands a small end table. Under it, you've hidden a rather large kitchen knife, and for a second you debate, whether going for it now would be the best course of action. Call it dumb optimism, but deep down, you pray this is some big misunderstanding, and you'll be allowed to go back to your patient, preferably sooner than later. 

There's no need to bother with a gun, no time too. Pete is bleeding out faster than a stuck pig, and you were not one to leave your customers unsatisfied. Or, in this particular line of work, dead. 

The door opens with a slam. There's a small indent in the wooden wall, where the door handle has hit the surface.  The cabin is slowly entering the state of ruin, although, some places are more taken care of than others. Still, it has a roof, a semi intact entrance and even a window with actual glass in it. Quite the luxury in the Wastelands. 

Cooper didn't know what to expect, not really. Seeing you for the first time gave him a mixture of varying feelings, as well as a rather uncomfortable throbbing in the nether regions. Who could blame him, really? Your wanted poster gave you no favors, and although he was able to recognize you almost immediately, he still felt slightly short of breath.

He scolds himself for getting distracted by his thoughts, and as your eyes lock down on him, he lifts the barrel of his gun, touching the rim of his hat. Your eyes shift like little sparkling gems onto the weapon, before your jaw locks.

- Salutations Ma'am - his voice is rough from lack of use, the southern twang even more prominent, than usual. - I believe our introduction was cut short.

Yellowed teeth flash in a mirthless smirk, and then his expression tightens.

Cooper is used to people reacting, let's say, negatively towards him. Fear is the most common, and he can't blame the masses, he really can't. Disgust, as well, happens quite often. But as he looks over your feverish gaze, he can't really see either one of the emotions. 

No, what you give him is an annoyed roll of your eyes, and he's surprised to say, it bothers him more than he'd be comfortable admitting. He's a goddamned bounty hunter, a ruthless one at that, and a fucking Ghoul. Fuck you mean, you're annoyed by his presence?

- Look - you're already turning away from him, shooting a look towards your kitchen, where he can see a leg twitch in a spasm on top of your table - I ain't got time for whatever this is - your hands wave around in Cooper's general direction. - You'll have to wait your turn.

- Ah, well, I'm not the patient kind.

A squeak of surprise leaves you, as the Ghoul pushes past your body, entering your house gun first, murder clear in his deep set eyes. His steps take him through your living room, dangerously close to your kitchen. You know exactly, what's going to happen, and your arms shoot out on instinct. His body is unnaturally warm, even through layers of clothing, as you wrap yourself around his waist, tugging him back with all your might.

 He looks down on you, more bothered by the sudden contact, than the fact you're trying to stop him. It gives you a small leverage, and you push him back a couple of steps, settling yourself between the entrance to the kitchen, and the bounty hunter, raising your hands and getting ready to fight. 

- I don't have time for this kinda bullshit. Git. - Cooper snarls at you, his gun-free hand coming up to grab at your hair.

Before you have time to react, five fingers twist hard into your roots, and you stifle a scream, as the Ghoul pushes you off of him. On instinct, your hands come up to tug against his wrist, nails digging into the leathery skin. He lets you go with a hiss, and you use that second, to throw yourself towards the end-table. 

Your fingers find the handle with a practiced ease. Then, your body twists like a radioactive viper, and all Cooper sees is a flash of metal. The blade is rusty and chipped, but it could still do some damage. Especially now, that it's pressed against Cooper's jugular, the dull, cold presence halting all his movements. Your eyebrows raise in small recognition at the thin fabric tied around his neck. The scarf. Your mouth goes dry.

- Everything okay back there? - Benny asks from the kitchen, you can hear his approaching footsteps.

- All's well, kee pressure on the wound - your voice is tight with nerves, but the man obeys. 

Cooper watches your face carefully, his gun tucked neatly into the meat of your stomach, ready to fire, should the situation escalate. You can feel it, pressed right into the hollow space under your spleen, a good place to be shot, if you could even say that. You're dealing with a professional, apparently. 

- We seem to have a bit of a conundrum on our hands, little lady - Cooper drawls, voice bordering on a whisper, his eyes follow the way your tongue darts out to lick your chapped lips. 

- I have a patient, he needs help - you explain in an even tone, breathing shallow - After that, I'll deal with you.

Despite being at a loosing position, you refuse to back down, your eyes glued to the Ghoul in front of you. You're bracing yourself for the imminent pain, should he decide shooting you would be easier, but it never comes. Instead, the barrel of the gun presses further into your flesh, before lightly retracting. The cold metal is dragged up, across the expanse of your stomach. You bite the inside of your cheek, and surpress a shiver, when it travels between the swell of your breast, and settles into the dip of your collarbones. 

You swallow thickly, Cooper's eyes catching the movements of your trachea like a hungry vulture. The tip of the gun touches the underside of your chin, pushing your head to one side, then the other, as if the bounty hunter is taking inventory in a butcher's shop. Once he's had his fill, he lifts the gun completely, raising his hands as a peace offering.

- Git - you whisper back at him, and a flash of something rushes through his mangled expression. 

You take a step back, chest rising in falling rapidly, blade still in front of you, just in case. Then another step, and the bounty hunter dusts off his coat, before sitting down on a stool in your cluttered living room. You don't like the way he looks at you, eyes shining from under his hat, as he occupies your space like it belongs to him. Long legs apread in front of him, and you try very hard not to sneak a peak between them. Finally, you cross the entrance to the kitchen, and the knife is tucked under the leather belt of your pants. 

A sigh, a roll of shoulders, and you're off.

Cooper watches with curiosity, as you immediately start to work on the poor bastard stuck on your table. Your back is taunt, hands bloodied but steady, as you lean down to take the metal bullet out of the wound. The herbal paste you've provided earlier has dried up, and is currently working wonders for the bleeding, while you reach inside with not-so-sterile pliers. 

- Hold him down - he hears you say, as the legs on the table start to twitch again. 

Finally, a metallic sound of the bullet hitting a dish is heard, and you stand up, making your way towards the cabinet filled with chems. There is a grace to your movements Cooper wasn't expecting. Reminds him of dancers, ballet ones. 

Back in the day, his ex-wife would drag him to all those ballet shows, ones that made him feel stupid and uncultured. He swallows around the memory, willing it to die down, as you shoot him a cautious look over your shoulders. 

He wiggles his gun at you lightly, a reminder, that all this is happening because of his good humor. You scoff. 

Pete starts screaming as soon, as you begin to dress the wound properly. Chemical smell fills the air, and although Cooper lacks the nose to feel it, his eyes water all the same. You seem to be unbothered, years of doing this exact job must've hardened your senses. Finally, it's done. There's nothing more you can do for the man, and you wipe your hand on your forehead, leaving a large smear of red.

- He'll be fine - you mutter towards the other man in the kitchen - He needs rest, and a loads of it too. 

A couple of small bottles and dried herbs land onto a checkered cloth, and you tie it closed, like a small care package. 

- Dress his wounds twice a day - you press the package into the other man's hands while he helps his partner off the table - Good luck. 

Cooper glares at the men, as they stagger out the front door. They don't seem to pay him any mind. Well, the shot one definitely doesn't, he can barely walk on his own. His friend is too preoccupied with keeping him on his arm, to even acknowledge that this whole situation was orchestrated by Cooper himself. Or perhaps, he's to stupid to connect the dots. It's hard to tell these days. 

The door closes with a click, and Cooper stands up from his stool, sauntering over to the kitchen. 

You're currently trying to wash blood off of your hands, which are stained crimson almost up to your elbows. It goes about as well as expected, and as you dry your arms with a rag, there's still a pinkish stain to your skin. 

The table is a mess, blood and herbs seeping into the wooden planks which make up the surface. Cooper leans against the doorframe, as he watches you splash some chemicals onto the wood. It bubbles up in a disgusting mixture of red, green and yellow. You let it sizzle for a moment, before taking that same bowl of water you've been using to clean up, and dumping it all onto the table. The mixture flows down to the floor, the residing surface looking much cleaner. 

- Now, as much as I'd love to sit around and play house with you, honey - Cooper starts, and has to clear his throat, when you look up at him wordlessly, blood on your face and fire in your eyes - I have a bounty to collect.

Sighing, you push your hair back from your forehead, exhaustion, which is synonymous with living in the Wastelands seeping off of you like a tidal wave. 

- Do you have a name? - you ask, reaching for a leather bag sitting on one of the chairs. 

- I do - he says, and you roll your eyes at the deliberate lack of information his answer has given you. 

You mutter something that sounds scarily close to "asshole", and begin to chuck a couple of vials into the bag, then some herbs, then a water canteen. It's like you're ready to move out at any time, and a sneaking suspicion arises in Cooper's mind. This isn't the first time you're in this situation, if your calm demeanor is anything to go by. Suspicious, highly so, and as you turn around to face him, Cooper raises his hand ever so slightly. 

Your eyes fall onto the bundle of rope in his grip, eyebrow raising in annoyance. 

- You serious? 

- As a funeral, sweetheart - he sways the bundle lighty, his other hand pointing the gun at your abdoment - Now, are you going to be good, and come over here? Or should I come over there and make it unpleasant for us both?

- You're already making it unpleasant - you mutter, but cross the kitchen towards him, raising your hands, palms up. 

- Wait. 

Confusion hits you, when the Ghoul reaches into his pocket, producing a small piece of torn cloth. Your entire body goes still, as he grabs onto your chin, cold metal of his gun digging into your cheek, the barrel settling into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. Then, despite your best efforts at freeing yourself from his grip, he brings the cloth to his lips, wetting the fabric with his tongue. 

The bloody smear on your forehead is wiped down rather roughly, and you twist in place like an impatient toddler, when Cooper leans his head back, to look at his handywork. You shiver with disgust, at the feeling of his drying saliva on your skin, and as soon, as he lets you go, you begin to rub at your forehead with the sleeve of your robe. 

- Good condition - he rasps, and if looks could kill, he'd be six feet under.

He gives you a nasty smirk, settling his gun down for just a moment, and grabbing your wrists together, so he can tie them up. Which is all the time you need to make a decision, and kick out your knee, nailing him right in the crotch. He doubles over, cursing loudly, hands shooting out to grab you, but all he catches is your tattered robe, which you slide out of easily. 

Fater than he would've anticipated, you grab at your bag, and bolt to the back of the kitchen, where he watches you jump over the table and all but slide out of the house through an open window. It's like a choreographed dance, the way you move out of his grasp. When he reaches the window himself, there's no sight of you, other than the rustling of tree branches somewhere in the woods behind your cabin. 

- Fucking women. - Cooper whistles.

He can't deny the shiver of excitement running down his back, as he secures the hat over his eyes.  If that's how you want to play, he would oblidge. It's been far too long since he could actually enjoy a more challenging bounty. Cooper slowly walks out of your cabin, looking over all the little trinkets you've gathered inside. Then, almost lazily, he lifts the robe you've left him to his nose. He feels nothing, of course, but he has quite a vivid imagination. Vivid enough to supply him with a memory of a scent from his past life. Lavender, he'd bet you smell like lavender. 

Your tracks are deep and visible across the ground, and so, the hunt begins. 

[hydemenot]

OFF LIMITS - mattheo r. | pt. 2

➠ A week after the incident, you've been meeting with Mattheo Riddle more than before—with the excuse of being an unsaid member of your revenge against Descamps, the cause of the mentioned incident—and, unbeknownst to each other, feelings began to bloom between the two of you despite the odds (odds being your brother, Theodore Nott).

The revenge takes a turn when things don't go according to the plan. INSPIRED BY MIXTE 1963

before reading: fem!reader, implied innocence (this is the 60s) more on mattheo's pov but it's a bit mixed with the two of yous ! boys fighting, cursing, theo is hated (lovingly), cliffhanger, this chapter feels filler-y but we move

📚: PART 1 | PART 2 | PART XX

Mattheo's mind couldn't focus on anything that's written on the blackboard or the professor's words, which he knew deep down he'd regret later on during the exams. His thoughts were filled with you, and for good reasons—well, some were. Mattheo couldn't shake the first time he saw you on Theo's bed. While you were a bit battered and bruised, somehow it didn't shun your beauty. He saw a bit of resemblance between you and Theo, but he couldn't deny that you were on a whole different level. He believed the rumors were true; Beauxbatons' students were all unbelievably pretty.

It's been a week since the incident, and Theo, who's just as distracted as Mattheo for a different reason, has been more lenient with him meeting you—if lenient was being the epitome of a wall in between the two of you. Planning revenge took three people; you insisted it was, so you were always around when Theo was, giving Mattheo the chance to have a conversation with you as much as he could.

As expected, once the school bell rang, he was quick to catch the colored dress you decided to wear today, accompanied by a jacket that protected you from the cold breeze near the door of their classroom. Mattheo wasted no time collecting his things, but not without Theo practically zooming past him, purposely giving daggers of glare to any of the boys who kept their eyes on you.

Once Mattheo was out of the room, he could hear Theo's lecturing tone already.

"I told you to wait for us by the Great Hall!" He said, his voice raised in an angered whisper, but it didn't go unnoticed by him how Theo purposely covered you with his arm, leaning against the wall. You didn't back down, of course, crossing your arm and reciprocating your brother's irritated expression.

"I looked weird waiting out there, Theo—there were at least five people that asked me if I was lost."

"You couldn't handle the sixth one?" Mattheo chuckled, joining in on the tense conversation. He placed a hand on his friend's back, patting him to calm down. "Don't be so harsh on your sister, Theo. I hope you're not forgetting she's the victim here, right?"

Mattheo laughed as Theo brushed his hand off and watched as he took hold of your wrist, making a beeline up the staircase. During lunch breaks, the three of you decided that it'd be better to talk inside their dorm. The first time you sat next to them caused a bit of an uproar within the guys, especially seniors who knew him and Theo—it caused a lot of misunderstandings about you, ones that the two boys aren't particularly fond of hearing. It also helped gain secrecy about their plan to 'avenge' you.

Theo was called by one of their Latin professors, so Mattheo took the initiative to get the two of you to the dorms first—of course, not without Theo threatening to take not just one but two of Mattheo's heads off if he tried anything funny with you. Mattheo tried to ignore the questioning glance from you along the way.

Once Mattheo threw his bag on his bed and slumped down next to it, you groaned in displeasure at your brother's action (that's what it looked like to him, at least). His eyes followed you up to where you sat next to him, your bag laid on your lap.

"Suffocating, isn't he? Somehow he fills the whole room just by being himself," he started, looking over at you with pity, though his tone was laced with jest.

You rolled your eyes, not being able to contain your smile at his words. "Truly a pleasure to be with."

"Can't believe you handled him for so long and you didn't even have a choice," Mattheo urged for the 'Theo hate train'. It almost felt like talking shit behind your brother's back turned into a bonding moment between you and Mattheo.

"Well, you did, but you still chose him," you said with an amused shrug.

This caused Mattheo to sit up, hands on his chest, in faux-offense. "I beg to differ, sweetheart; that bloke chose me." Your raised eyebrow made him add more. "Not to mention, he insisted on staying with me because, and I quote, the only student he can handle."

You shook your head as you covered your mouth to laugh. "I don't think that's a good thing, Mattheo; I don't know."

You tried to ignore the funny feeling in your stomach at the mention of the nickname, not used to being called such endearments other than from your mother. Spending your first entire week in Mattheo's presence was nothing but bliss. He's the first guy friend you've ever made, and you were glad it was him. Despite his displayed callousness between his friends, Mattheo was sweet and kind to you. But that didn't also mean he looked down on you. You remembered hearing Mattheo, from when you first started waiting for them by their classroom, about how he insisted on letting you get at least a few punches here and there because he knew you could.

Mattheo didn't reply to your teasing, answering with a hearty laugh, causing you to join him. You liked him quite a lot, even though you're sure Theo would put Mattheo's head on a stake if he knew.

Speaking of, Theo finally arrived with a tired huff as he threw his messenger bag against his bed's mattress and began loosening his tie—your eyes curiously looked at Mattheo to see he wasn't wearing one.

"Professor made you show off your smarts again?" Mattheo spoke up. You turned back to face Theo as he sighed again. "In front of investors, I'm guessing."

"That would've been better, but no, it's to show off his teaching skills to the new English teacher," Theo explained with a nonchalant expression.

"Ah, it must've been hard for you." You could just tell from Mattheo's tone that he was far from concerned, making you giggle to yourself. Being in close proximity, Mattheo heard you and tried his best to contain his laughter. You saw your brother's eyes going back and forth between the two of you, full of suspicion. You coughed into your hand to calm yourself.

"So, any news on Descamps?" Mattheo suddenly asked you, trying to change the subject, but you can still see the way he raised his eyebrows that he's still holding back.

You nodded, looking back at Theo, who had his usual serious face that kept you from getting infected by Mattheo's giggle fest beside you. "If I'm not wrong, he spends most of his time after class on the open grounds with his friends."

Mattheo hummed. "That gives us the opportunity to embarrass him then," he said as he made eye contact with Theo too. They were talking again—telepathically, you guessed. Is it a best friends' thing?

"We'll wait for him there. Our class ends 15 minutes earlier than yours, so just go straight to us, okay?"

The plan was for you to wait on Descamps and his friends to fix their things—a signal that they're about to leave—before heading to the open grounds, but it seemed like fate really hated you when the blonde boy suddenly approached you before you could stand up from your table. The professor left first, leaving some of your useless classmates to just stare at the scene.

Descamps' one hand landed on your table while the other held on to the back of your seat, perfectly locking you in. "What do you want?" You said with a glare, a similarity Mattheo once commented on that really reminded him that Theodore Nott was your brother, though it didn't falter the boy's annoying confidence.

"Don't act all cheeky now, Nott. As if you weren't following me around all week with your little heart eyes." His friends laughed while Descamps had that disgusting smirk. Unlike Mattheo's, it only made him look creepy.

You scoffed, tightening your grip on your bag. "You've misunderstood me, Descamps; I don't have heart eyes for boys who kick girls." You retorted loudly enough for the remaining students to hear. They gasped and began whispering to one another, but they stayed where they were, giving no intention of intervening or even just calling back the professor.

You embarrassed him once again, making you smile to yourself. "Now that we've made it all clear, can I leave?" You attempted to stand up, not fearing to go face to face with Descamps, as much as you hated his face, but that all stopped when he grabbed you by your hair. He grabbed a handful from the back of your head, earning a yell from you. You dropped your bag to the floor and used both of your hands to grab his wrist.

"Bitches like you never learn, do you? A bitch who sluts herself out for her seniors shouldn't have so much confidence." He threw you against the cold tiles of your classroom floor, your hair disheveled. You groaned in pain, holding onto your side. Thankfully, your arm managed to catch your head from colliding with the ground, but you still heard ringing from your ears at the impact. Tears began to well up from your eyes, shame running through your entire body of being at the end of the stick again.

You tried to stand up and run away, but before you could lift yourself from the ground, the sounds of chairs roughly scraping against the tiles filled the room. More people gathered by the door as Mattheo practically flung himself against Descamps.

"You fucking piece of shit!" Mattheo yelled as he grabbed Descamps' collar. You watched in fear as he mercilessly pinned the boy to the ground. You weren't used to seeing Mattheo with such anger on his face. He looked like he had no intention to stop unless someone forced him off of Descamps. You felt arms wrapped around you, making you turn to see Theo with the same expression at Mattheo, though he was facing Descamps' friends, who cowardly stood back.

Worry overwhelmed your nerves at the scene. "Theo—"

He grabbed your bag and placed a hand on your head where it was pulled on, causing you to wince. You couldn't tell what expression Theo had when he said, "It's fine; don't worry about him."

As if on cue, three other seniors ran past the forming crowd by the door. Two of them pulled Mattheo by both his arms while the other held down Descamps by his shoulder, keeping him on the ground. From the looks of what Mattheo did, he wouldn't be able to stand up without help anyway. The students watching, which only increased by the second resulted in even the windows being blocked, helped block the teachers making their way towards the scene. Your head ached from the chaos; the only thing you wished for was for all this to end and leave.

"Can we go, Theo? There are too many teachers outside." You looked over the growing crowd and said, "I don't want any of us to get in trouble, especially the two of you." Expulsion was the bare minimum punishment for what happened today, and you didn't want to cause not only your brother's education but also that of Mattheo, who only got involved because he had the misfortune of being Theo's roommate; nothing but guilt flooded your mind at that thought.

Theo nodded once he saw the teachers peaking over the students. "No one's getting in trouble except for that stronzo(asshole)," he replied, pointing over Descamps.

Theo lifted you up from the ground by your good arm, still carrying your bag, and fetched Mattheo from the two seniors by the sleeves of his uniform. Your eyes landed on the boy, instinctively grabbing a hold of his hand. Mattheo's knuckles were covered in blood, most probably mixed with Descamps and his. You knew that this would've happened even if things were to go as planned, but you weren't truly ready to see Mattheo in such a state.

Your chest pounded uncomfortably at every breath you took as Mattheo's calloused fingers intertwined with yours—you're sure it wasn't just the fact that the three of you were running away from the classroom to your brother's dorm.

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[flowerandblood]

The Song of Songs

The Gate of Salvation Universe Oneshot

[ young pope • Aemond x catholic • female ]

[ warnings: soft sex content, fingering, masturbation, smut, sexual tension, anxiety, doubts related to faith, religious guilt ]

[ description: Her relationship with the Pope becomes more than complicated, especially since it looks like he has no intention of giving up on her or their relationship. His efforts lead to her being assigned a special room in the Vatican, where he visits her at night. Main theme: sexual tension & holy touch. ]

This oneshot is the events that take place a few months after The Gate of Salvation. This is a special chapter written to celebrate my one year on this platform, which falls on March 22. I used fragments from the biblical Song of Songs, hence the title oneshot. I recommend everyone to read it, it is the most erotic and at the same time one of the most poetic and beautiful parts of the Bible.

Next: Death and Ressurection (Oneshot)

Aemond as a Pope Edit Series Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

She was not sure how her presence in the Vatican had become her daily routine, spending more time in the quarters surrounding St Peter's Basilica than in her flat.

Although she tried to protest, the Pope personally made sure that a room was prepared for her to sleep in the private part of the complex reserved for guests. She knew he was still adding to her workload just to make sure she stayed there overnight.

At first, he visited her sporadically, saying he couldn't sleep; he came to her room and spoke about his thoughts, doubts, premonitions, and sought her advice on spiritual and everyday matters.

She listened to him sitting on her bed, not knowing what she should do, how to respond, his worries as Pope were something incomprehensible to her, something she had never thought about before.

Only later did she realise that he did not expect her to solve his complicated problems.

She was his solution.

He only showed her what he really needed later, when he sat down next to her, when he touched her cheek, brushing it with his fingers, his gaze was dreamy, warm, full of tenderness, it made her feel hot in her lower abdomen, a shiver ran down her back.

"My sweet flower." He whispered softly and she drifted off completely, closing her eyes, focusing on the wonderful touch of his hand, her heart pounding hard as his forehead pressed against hers, his shaky breath enveloping her face.

Her fingers found his cheek, his jaw, his hair and his neck, she heard him sigh softly as he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

"I need you." He whispered; she could hear how hard it was for him to get those words out, a shy moan escaped her lips as his mouth found hers in a tentative, soft, sticky kiss, her body responding to his closeness with an embarrassing wetness between her thighs.

His kisses became bolder, louder, stickier with his saliva, his warm breath mingling with hers in her throat, his scent filling her entire lungs as he lay on his side, pulling her onto the bed with him.

After what was happening between them at night, he usually needed a day or two to calm down, overwhelmed by how intense their closeness was.

He risked a lot when he started sneaking into her room more often, strolling through the dark marble-lined corridors dressed in his snow-white tracksuit with his hood over his head until he ended up at her door, and fearing that someone would see him, she always let him in, helpless.

"You shouldn't sleep here, Holy Father. What if someone catches us?" She muttered, looking at him pleadingly, already wearing her pyjamas, the same ones she had worn when he had visited her in her flat for the first time.

He looked at her, surprised, pulling the hood off his head, combing his short hair with a careless flick of his hand.

"Do not fret, child. Have faith. God is watching over us." He replied calmly, putting his phone down on her nightstand, pulling his white sneakers off his feet, slipping under her duvet as he did every time he visited her, intending to fall asleep in her bed.

She felt both heat and fear at the sight, swallowing hard as he reached over to the bedside lamp and turned off the light, acting as if this was his room and what he was doing was perfectly normal and ordinary.

She moved uncertainly towards him, knowing there was no point in resisting him and lay down next to him on the bed, sighing quietly as his arm immediately embraced her, snuggling her into his chest.

"− did you say your evening prayer? −" He asked in a whisper, a wonderful, hot shiver ran through her entire body as the tips of his fingers began to comb through her soft hair.

"− yes, Holy Father −" She muttered, feeling that she was losing the battle with herself as she did every time, his closeness, his scent, his voice were addictive to her. Involuntarily her fingers tightened on the material of his sweatshirt at his back, her face snuggled into him, seeking refuge.

"− good − sleep −" He murmured, his lips placing a warm, soft kiss on her hair. She sighed quietly, twisting in her place, feeling how at the sound of his voice and his tender touch her walls clenched tightly, already sticky with her wetness.

It had been two days since he last visited her.

He forbade her to touch herself, saying it was a sin.

She closed her eyes and tried to comply with his request, but she couldn't calm down, feeling his heart pounding fast, his manhood in his sweatpants twitching once in a while, pushing softly against her stomach, making her involuntarily start to rub against him.

"− I'm sorry −" She whispered helplessly in a voice full of shame; she felt him kiss her forehead. His hand immediately slipped under the material of her shorts, running tentatively over her soft buttock before his fingertips found her hot, puffy womanhood, sticky with her moisture.

"− I have obeyed you, Holy Father − I swear −" She mumbled regretfully, panting quietly into his sweatshirt, moving her hips in rhythm with the strokes of his fingers, already experienced in how and where he should squeeze her to give her the greatest pleasure. She heard him gasp as she spread her thighs in front of him, the tips of his fingers beginning to dig into the fleshy structure around her clit with her cry of pleasure.

"− I know, sweet child − I am with you − I will reward your suffering −" He whispered in a low, deep, trembling voice from which a shiver ran along her spine. She clenched her eyes shut, holding back a sob as two of his fingers finally made their way inside her, stretching her throbbing, wet muscles painfully slowly − she clasped her fingers against his back, rising and falling against it with a loud click, feeling that his manhood was already fully hard, throbbing impatiently in his sweatpants.

"− let me, please −" She mumbled pleadingly, lifting her face towards him, his tongue slipping between her lips as she heard his quiet, tender shhh, joining her in a hot, thirsty, sticky kiss.

Even though she begged him to let her relieve himself, to touch his manhood with her hand or lips, he never let her.

He felt that he could not bear the remorse caused by the thought that she had contributed to his sin, that as long as he was the only one touching her, she was not as guilty as he was, and though she disagreed, knowing that she wanted it as much as he did, she tried to respect his decision, to poor effect.

She squirmed loudly as he swapped two of his fingers for his thumb, with which he pressed a spot inside her, his middle and index finger brushing her bud again, teasing her encouragingly.

She felt like her heart was going to jump out of her chest, a helpless whine escaped her lips, his free hand sinking into her hair.

"− please, let me, please, please, please −" She begged, feeling her tears begin to run down her cheeks − she heard him draw in the air loudly, involuntarily pressing his length against her stomach, rubbing against her, searching for any source of relief, his thumb thrust deeper into her wonderful spot making her cry loudly into his mouth, his tongue deep inside her throat.

"− I can't − God, I can't, my sweetest −" He muttered heartbroken, his kisses greedy, full of pleasure, of suffering, of desire, of affection, of tenderness, full of their teeth, their tongues, their lips and their saliva.

She had the feeling he wanted to devour her, her wetness dripping down his hand, her walls beginning to tighten around his thumb, sucking him inside.

"− Holy Father −" She mumbled out with difficulty, hearing that he was panting and moaning along with her, holding her close, his hand pressed against her womanhood as she tilted her head back, moaning in fulfillment, his lips kissing again and again her red, tear-drenched cheeks.

"− I love you − I love you, I love you, I love you −" He whispered in a trembling voice, his hand slid down to her buttock and clamped down on it, pushing her closer, his hips rubbing hungrily against her, trying to chase his own fulfilment. She threw her arms around his neck, joining him in a kiss − he murmured into her mouth in delight, pulling away from her after a moment, looking at her with dreamy eyes.

"− please −" He whispered, stroking her cheek with his shaking hand, her fingers immediately beginning to undo the buttons of her shirt, revealing merely part of her naked body, not uncovering her breasts.

He groaned helplessly at this sight, pressing his forehead against hers, looking down at her exposed skin; she threw her thigh against his waist, responding to the rocking of his hips, and he gasped loudly, turning onto his back with her, his fingers trailing over her sternum down her bare stomach.

"− please − please, please, please −" He breathed out again and tilted his head back with a loud sigh as she began to rub against him, bucking her hips back and forth, his throbbing, swollen cock hidden under the thin material of his sweatpants, leaking already with his precum between her thighs, his fingers tightened involuntarily on her buttocks forcing her to speed up.

"− say it −" He muttered, and she moaned softly, feeling how her hard, popping nipples begin to peek through from under the material of her shirt, betraying her arousal, her insides clenched at his request in pleasure, all moist from her fulfilment.

"− I am yours, Holy Father − both now on earth and after death in heaven −" She whispered sweetly, she saw his lips part in a low groan as she grasped his wrist guiding it to her breast, exposing it with a movement of her shoulder and immediately covering it with his hand, his fingers clenched greedily on her delicate skin, making her merely moan as she felt his cock begin to twitch and throb beneath her in pleasure.

"− so soft − my beautiful sweet flower −" He muttered, lifting himself into a sitting position, his free hand sinking into her hair, the other squeezing her breast greedily, not even for a moment exposing her, his lips swollen with desire sunk into hers, his hips rubbing against her more and more intensely with his throaty moan of desire.

He wanted to come so badly.

He never asked her for it out loud, but she could see it in his gaze as he pressed his forehead against hers, panting loudly, that pleading, ashamed, misty look asking for relief.

She lifted herself slightly then, slipping the material of her shorts off her legs with difficulty, his eyes fixed on her face the whole time as he lowered the material of his sweatpants with his lips spread open at the same time.

"− don't look − come here −" He gasped, pulling her back, groaning loudly as her leaking womanhood pressed against his naked body, his swollen, hard cock throbbing all over and twitching between her thighs, dripping with his precum. The tip of his nose sunk into her cheek as he placed his hands on her naked waist, rocking his hips back and forth, his manhood rubbing against her slick folds.

"− good God − you are so devoted to our Lord, are you not? − always so wet for me −" He exhaled delightedly, speeding up, his lips pressed to her chest, kissing her bare, smooth skin between her breasts, between which hung a small gold cross, a gift from him, which she now wore instead of the one from her grandfather, so that he could have the feeling that a part of him was always with her, touching her naked body.

He never looked down, focusing only on the sense of touch, not wanting to deprive her or himself of their intimacy, to sin by thinking of physicality instead of the spirituality he found in this act of union with her.

"− yes −" She mumbled out with difficulty, responding by bucking her hips to his movements, teasing and squeezing him so that she could hear the loud, sticky click of her own moisture from which they both quickened their pace. Her fingers clamped in his hair, hugging him tighter into her, his fingertips digging into her buttocks, each of his strokes rubbing her clit, making her walls begin to throb wonderfully inside her again.

"− if only I were your husband − if only I could − I'd fuck you every day, morning and evening − after prayer −" He added, as if this was an essential part of that fantasy; she tilted her head back, whimpering with pleasure, his hands sliding lower, between his and her thighs. The thumb of one of them began to brush her clit in circular, sure motions, and the other grasped his manhood, using her moisture as lube − she heard him squeeze himself with a sticky splat, panting loudly, his face pressed against her chest.

"− Holy Father − so good − ah −" She babbled with difficulty, completely absorbed in her own pleasure and his closeness, rising slightly on her knees. She saw him look at her with horror and desire as she positioned herself over the leaking tip of his manhood, but not looking down, resting her hand on his shoulder for balance, letting its fat, pink head push against her fleshy, hot slit.

"− ah − n-no − please − oh fuck − don't stop −" He breathed out, simultaneously trying to escape and thrusting his length deeper between her moist, slick folds, as always he tried to fight with himself, to no avail, his swollen manhood was already halfway in, throbbing like mad.

She pressed her forehead against his with soft moan of delight, closing her eyes, focusing only on the fact that she felt him, that he desired her, that he was loosing his mind because of her.

Once he was deep inside her, his fingers involuntarily dug into the plump skin of her buttocks, shudders of pleasure and disbelief ran through her every time he slammed into her quickly and confidently with greedy, desperate jerks of his hips, unable to contain himself, surrendering to the euphoria that was overtaking them both.

"− God − so tight − so warm − fuckk −" He babbled, opening her wide on his fat cock with each thrust of his hips, she felt every vein on his thick manhood perfectly, every twitch of it, was ashamed of how lewd her moans were, how greedily her walls squeezed him and sucked him in, wanting to keep him inside her.

"− please, please, please, save me −" She mewled sinking up and down on his throbbing length, at the mere feeling of him inside her stretching her fleshy muscles so wonderfully, uniting with her in that final way she came again, tilting her head back with a sweet, surprised cry of pleasure.

She heard his loud, throaty groan when he heard her words and felt her fulfilment on his cock, her moisture running down her thighs, as usual when he felt his was close he slid out of her quickly, cumming into his own hand with a loud sigh of relief that shook his body.

As always his orgasm made tears of pleasure, regret, delight and shame run down his cheeks, which she wiped away quickly leaning over him, snuggling into him, panting loudly, his clean hand immediately embracing her, stroking her back.

She grasped his other wrist, feeling him resist her, wanting to raise his hand higher, to her lips.

"− n-no − stop − it's dirty −" He mumbled through tears, sniffing loudly and sighed, simultaneously heartbroken, helpless and enchanted when she slid his fingers, sticky with his semen deep into her mouth.

"− we have already discussed this − wasting it is a sin, Holy Father − is it not? −" She gasped between flicks of her moist tongue − she heard him swallow hard, looking at her as if charmed, letting her lick his pearly, sticky liquid off his naked skin.

"− I shouldn't − you don't have to −" He began in a trembling voice, watching closely her treatments, unable to look away from this perverted sight.

"− I want to −" She hummed softly, kissing his already clean hand tenderly, smelling of his fulfilment and her saliva; she leaned towards him, hugging her face to his, their hands stroking each other reassuringly.

"− you are the love of my life −" She whispered in his ear, and he sighed quietly, despite the fact that she had repeated it to him so often, he still clearly did not believe that it was true, that she reciprocated his feelings, that she was not disgusted by him, that she had no intention of deceiving or abandoning him.

"− will you forgive me? −" He muttered, and she smiled softly, pressing her face against his hot cheek.

"− I'll forgive you if you forgive me −" She hummed tenderly, hearing him swallow hard.

"− I forgive you, sweet flower −"

"− and I forgive you, Your Holiness −"

She felt him slowly begin to calm down − he wiped his cheeks and she slid off his thighs, quickly putting on her shorts as he headed for her bathroom, locking himself inside to get himself cleaned up.

When he came out he was still quivering.

It seemed to her that the experience of fulfilment was something almost frightening for him, even more so with her when he obviously loved her so dearly.

She reached out her arms to him and he snuggled into her like a small child, pressing his face against her bare skin between her breasts and took a heavy breath, focusing on her hand that covered them tightly with the duvet, then began to stroke his hair with the calm, tender brushes of her fingers.

"Until I met you, I did not understand the Songs of Songs written down by King Solomon. I couldn't get through them, considering them to be sinful texts, I didn't know how they could be part of the Bible. But now I understand. You are my beloved. My bride." He whispered, and she felt a squeeze in her throat at his words, recalling the lyrics of these poems, so filled with metaphors of physical affection that it seemed like a book made for lovers.

How beautiful you are, my darling!     Oh, how beautiful!    Your breasts are like two fawns,     like twin fawns of a gazelle     that browse among the lilies.  You are altogether beautiful, my darling;     there is no flaw in you.

You have stolen my heart, my sister, my bride;     you have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes,     with one jewel of your necklace. How delightful is your love, my sister, my bride!     How much more pleasing is your love than wine, and the fragrance of your perfume     more than any spice!

Your lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb, my bride;     milk and honey are under your tongue. The fragrance of your garments     is like the fragrance of Lebanon. You are a garden locked up, my sister, my bride;     you are a spring enclosed, a sealed fountain.

"That would make you my beloved, Holy Father." She whispered quietly, gently brushing his hair with her fingers, feeling how quickly her heart began to pound at this shameless confession.

She heard him hum under his breath, delighted, moving his lips over her bare skin, kissing tentatively a small part of her soft, plump, exposed breast.

"Indeed. I have never felt the presence of God so much as when I am with you. Inside you. When I kiss your naked body. I think then: God must exist, since He has placed such a perfect being before me to be my joy and comfort." He muttered, his lips leaving again and again the sticky, warm trail of his mouth on the bare skin of her breast.

"This is my heaven on earth." He whispered into her warm skin, running his large hand down her back under the material of her shirt, and she smiled at his words, for some reason fulfilled and happy.

"As is mine."

[ladythornofrivia]

Lady with Teal Eyes || Aemond x Aunt!Hightower Reader (Part Three)

word count:

author’s note: I’m writing the last chapter! Woo!

warnings: incest, cockwarming, teasing, sucking, p in v, rough play, flirting, wholesome moment, jealous aemond, possessive, roughness, mild manhandling, mild degradation, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex, second hand embarrassment, dark content, mentions of su*cide, Aemond being too touchy with his aunt, degradation, humiliation.

summary: Aemond meets his aunt for the first time, and there’s more than meets the eye. (there will be three parts…jk…I’m going to add two more chapters)

Three weeks has passed since you have kept yourself and your affairs in secrecy in the Red Keep. Needless to say, it was evident that you have found peace within yourself. Or rather with the one-eyed prince, who would not stop touching you in all places of your body.

His secret—his own holy sept—spilling each other’s fantasies and interests alike. From night until dawn, everything was accorded.

Each time you spent hours with Alicent and her other Green children in a summer daylight, you felt like a cumbersome and sinister virgin committed a crime to your precious sex. Thankfully Gwayne and Criston or the Cargyll twin, even Harold weren’t there to witness the guilt and arousal you’re trying to hide from a tempted imagination.

In the midst of vipers and ambitious alike, you found solace of writing the accounts on your diary. Entries on the pages filled with thoughts—daily and private—one which you know more than anyone else.

The prayers of the Faith of the Seven has been all but a fever dream. What was the religion’s purpose other than a guidance to those who are lost? You were lost once, but no doubt that your prayers were ever answered. You prayed to the Gods that you wanted to know your origins, of how you came to be as the lady with teal eyes, a daughter of Otto Hightower, but the Gods never gave, so you surrendered your faith at the age of seven, but masking it, pretending to be faithful in order to persuade your father and the Hightowers to achieve their good side was nothing more than an act.

And useless, more like.

An illness poisoned in your old wounds again. What does guidance do other than supplanted the seed of greed, selfishness and lies and pettiness to save themselves from others while the innocence tainted like a wounded womb?

Otto was nothing more than a heartless man served to the likes of his greed for the Iron Throne, the Red Keep, and above all, to Alicent.

Has he accepted you like he does to Alicent, there would be no consequences of silent hostility between two factions and conflict within.

Souls like them are already tainted.

But in a way, you’re glad; being in the same room as Otto would be as consequentially stupid as an untrained eye.

In the latest days in King’s Landing, your adoration for the city has grown less, but the sea and the gardens are the only things that could make you relish the taste of small life.

Aemond had taken you to the gardens, of course, and there you raced with pearly silks of ruffled gown and pearls adorned the neckline, hair fumbled in the wind as you looked back at the one-eyed prince with a gleaming smile.

Thin rays of light cascaded down on your winsome manes and the sparkles of your pearl gown.

On the midst of your white-pearl, there’s a necklace, adorned in large white pearls and a sapphire on the center. Aemond gave you a gift before the day of your nameday.

You were not a type of noble who celebrates nameday, especially if you consider yourself to be in a lower rank in comparison to Queen Alicent or the Targaryens.

Oddly, it has been tranquil since the day you arrived King’s Landing, but the days where you spent your days in your room, the gardens and library, as if nothing special occurred. That is until Aemond caught a certain subjects that caught your eye.

But Aemond is more fascinated with your enamored beauty gleaming like a flower blossoming into the sun and wind.

His hands never stopped roaming to your body.

“We’re in the gardens, my prince,” you reminded, giggling.

Aemond hummed as he plunged a kiss and undo his breeches, but before he does, an attendant arrived and announced that Alicent wanted a discussion with Aemond. With loving eye, Aemond bid his goodbyes and left, and within each breath you drew, it leaves you wanting more.

Each day, you and Aemond spent days into each other’s company, but it wasn’t enough. There are times at night is where the thrill accelerated. Nights dawned with passion and blood engulfed with desire.

Aemond thought of no consequences as he pounded his long cock into you—bed creaking as the skin slapped with his.

“My sweet, my love, my muse,” he said, rasping, his head threw back, drawing a feral growl, hips throbbed and rushed. His mind reeled to a thought of you, healthy and glowing with a rounded belly. He wanted to touch you, but in a public, Aemond would be in jeopardy, but since he’s the second son of the ill king, Aemond laid his hand on your thigh, brushing his whole palm, rising and falling motion, no care for consequences.

He could heard your breath hitched, but kept your composure—entertained your guests and family members. Surely it appears friendly and cordial on the outside, but underneath the table was nothing more than a filthy naughtiness arising from the stroke of his hand. His young and rugged, cold hands. You loved his cold hands. He recalled of your face flushed and in heat. Although he preferred heat, the dragon prince reconsidered it on making his hands cold, to pinch and flick your clit and pushing his lithe fingers in your warmth sounds as tempting and pinched the your taut nipples.

The curtains on your four-post bed swayed, and you found yourself moaning aloud, but his hand covered your mouth. His body pressed against yours and his mouth leaned onto your ear.

“You’re taking my large cock so well, my sweet princess,” he told you. “But you must be quiet for me. Can you do that?”

You nodded.

And his thrusts were twice as powerful, until he spilled every last drop of his semen into your soaked walls, and sweat on your flesh cooled from a plundering breeze.

“My good princess.”

Gevie, he thought, as he watched your sleeping body, your tangled locks, and your face leaning on his neckline for warmth, arms enveloping around his lean frame.

~~~

There are nights where you cannot sleep well. Nights about your dreams terrorizing you. The screams of a woman, calling out to you. Then you saw Alicent. Then your father; Otto screamed at you; His eyes were glowing in the dark, telling you how much of a disappointment you are and how everything wrong in his life, the burdens fell onto your shoulders.

Rumors of you, a mythical creature hissed in the dark. Until you found yourself on a high tower, falling, drowning, then nothing…

You woke up crying, and not long, Aemond awoke with concern, and held you in his arms, whispering sweet words into your ears, High Valyrian, telling you that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.

You have never heard of High Valyrian before. His voice is music to her ears, and found her gaze locked to his as you both initiated a long feverish kiss. It was the first time that you felt at peace, where you didn’t need to cry on your pillow.

“I love you,” you told him.

“I love you more, my sweet.” He kissed atop of your head.

Dreams have subsided but it didn’t mean it went away completely. Something was calling out to you. The one-eyed prince remedied with his presence.

And for that, you weren’t in fear of the dreams, of the dark.

As of late, the shared passion between you and Aemond has come to a stop. You awaited him in nightly hours and yet the cold air swept in for an one-eyed prince to come and rescue you.

But he never did.

Could something happen to him? You wondered what was the cause. And you hadn’t known, that is until Aemond stormed into your royal apartments, fuming of the announcement of your betrothal to the Martell.

“I command you not to go,” he forewarned.

Confused, you said, “What are you talking about?”

Aemond prowled, fists clenching, his brows furrowed. “You’re marrying a Martell. You’ll be sent away to Dorne, without ever so telling me. What causes you to drive yourself further from my sight, my love?”

You gulped. “No one ever informed me of the marriage!”

His one eye beamed with glare. “I overheard that you’ll be wedded off soon.”

“I didn’t know of this. I didn’t know any of this!” you protested. “I have never done any errors, Aemond. I will never give you any reason to hurt you.”

Aemond’s hands clutched your arms, near to your shoulders. His knees bent and dropped down, and his head bowed and fell down onto your lap. “So…no one told you?” he said, his voice muffled.

“No one told me,” you said gently. “I’ve been in my apartment to repair the new dress you gifted me.”

“Grandsire told me so.”

You heart stopped.

“He agreed to the terms to Dorne, to win their favor.”

You felt numb at the moment.

“My father,” he bitterly said, “wanted alliance with Dorne for some time, but due to his illness, he was powerless. His mind already rotten, as you saw him before.”

“I have.”

“Why in the Seven Hells my grandsire do such a thing?”

“And you thought I was betraying you? You think I would go behind your back and agree to the terms that no one informed me of? I spent my days on my duties, waiting for you to come back. I tried to find you everywhere in the Red Keep, and nothing, you were nowhere to found. What am I wasting my time for, then?”

Aemond looked up with his good eye gleaming. “I apologize, my lady. You’re the woman I want.”

Your eyes glazed in hot tears; his hands brushed the sides of your waist, his forehead leaned against your stomach.

“I must speak to Alicent of this matter.” Then you got up and left.

But, instead of seeing Alicent, Otto was present before your eyes at Alicent’s apartments. Your chest tightened at the sound of his voice.

The Lord Hand awaited.

You took a step forward.

“Father,” you began, wondering if he’s willing to change his way.

You guessed it wrong.

“I never thought I took you for a fool,” he began. “Coupling with a one-eyed prince for whatever how long, and you decided to act immoral ways against the Faith of the Seven. You are a disgrace to House Hightower. Harlot as your mother ever was. What will Alicent ever think of you, my sweet child?”

But you heard the story wrong; there are rumors years back that your father, the Lord Hand, had an affair with a woman after Alicent’s mother has passed—when Alicent was just an toddler. As much as he grieves for his late wife, he needed someone to warm his heart, but the result began clear when it’s only temporary. And you don’t recall whether Otto treated you fairly.

“Alicent may not know this, but I do know. These walls have eyes, my dear girl. And if you ever lay a hand on any other members of the court, you’ll be sentenced mercifully to death.”

His soft tone never caused a shiver down your spine.

“You’re nothing but an enigma to my existence. You have soiled yourself, soiled my name,” he continued. “You must pray for forgiveness, and your desirable sins will be set free.”

“Where’s my mother?” is all you said.

Otto silenced.

“Where is she?”

Then a small smile crept upward on his lip. “You’ll never meet her. Perhaps you will, if you rid of yourself, I care not. We Hightowers thrive and survive, and you will not; you will rot to despair.”

Alicent’s children will reign Seven Kingdoms, and you will not.

For all these years, you have yearned affection and acceptance was nothing more than a pathetic attempt to injure your pride.

This was all you needed to hear from Otto—the ugly truth.

The comforting lie is just as ugly, like a gown wore on a rotten corpse.

“The Martells will attend here at the Red Keep. Best sure to be on your good behavior. Or you will pay the price by the repent for your existence.”

Maybe the comfort offering from the dead and living can be as painful.

~~~

At dinner, with the Martells involved, you shot a benign smile at the prince, but Aemond is saddened by the outcome. But in the midst of a chatter, you chose to stay silent and play an act of a nice lady. Smiling and nodding is all you could do. But on the inside, you want to thrash everything and burn the lives of those who wrong you.

But you’re only a lady, not Visenya Targaryen.

The Martell prince has been extended his kindness to you, but, afar, unbeknownst to you, Aemond paid attention to you. The glistened of your eyes—your teal eyes—dwindled and empty. And your smile is just as coiled and unnaturally unnerving. While you’re unseen to everybody else, only Aemond’s eye to you are well-known and heard.

No matter how much you tried to look up and glance another’s person eyes, the soul of your happiness is nowhere to be seen.

He has never seen you like this, aside from the tears and pain you have shared. Knowing why, Otto had the upper hand. A child-like state you shared with Aemond has stiffened to adulthood.

It was him, and Aemond knows it so. Otto was just as calculatingly obvious. Aemond urged to take you away and fled to the Free Cities, but his duty, he cannot afford to make a ruckus mistake like last time. Not that he’s ashamed of jabbing his grandsire at supper duration of Viserys’s nameday—he felt proud, but to his own end, his own calculation should’ve been more precise and less obvious.

The Martell prince offered you to take his hand for a night stroll, but you lead yourself back to your room, by excusing yourself.

Not long after, while the guests and his family are occupied by the Martells, Aemond slipped past them and met you back in your room, tackling you with a kiss and an embrace, leaving no breath in your chest.

Within your kiss, you cried, but Aemond had other plans on taking you back, to remedy his careless encounter he had with you this morning.

He took and soiled you again on your pristine bed.

“My father will have me killed if we keep doing this,” you warned him, stroking his glossy hair.

“I shall feed them to my dragon—of those who wronged us, if it comes to that. I care not of my grandsire,” he replied. “He’s as stupid as a boar.”

“What shall I do?”

“Let us make our vows to the Godswood,” he suggested, rather bluntly and more urgent; urgent because his anger was rising against of his grandsire.

“He knows about us, my dear nephew,” you said, tears trickled.

His thumb swiped your tear aside.

“We’ll find a way.” Aemond kissed your head, then onto your lips, after a prolonged of a ragged breath settled down from a torrid consummation, thinking about how he should’ve eaten you at the feast, your legs open and spread across the table, but he shall do that the next time someone tries to outsmart him, even if it’s a family member.

And there, you shared intimacy with a prince once more.

For now, assurance is all you needed.

~~~

In the midst of foggy, cold evening, with you asleep, Aemond managed to find the Martell prince and slaughtered him, tossed him at the highest tower of Red Keep.

The people in King’s Landing will take the Martell’s death as a suicide, but within the eyes of the Gods of Old and New, they knew that the one-eyed prince ended the Dornish prince.

~~~

The next day, the bond between you and Aemond mended and resumed, never minding of the misunderstanding, in your ivory gown with embroidered white roses and teal and green jewels sleeved your shoulders as Aemond in his violet and gold attire. You and Aemond are happy; sent to each other’s arms and the kiss became ardent. The love in between the curtained trees and shadows and thin ray of lights. You felt lighter, and so does he. But the struggles between politics and greedy desires from the people won’t end. But the one-eyed prince beg to differ.

To be continued…

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[noxturnalpascal]

Devotion 🖤 II. Predator or Prey? (Ch 7)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

⚠️PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE SERIES WARNINGS, ESPECIALLY: references to previous SAs (not described in detail), manipulation, thoughts of self-harm and suicide.⚠️

PREVIOUS

II. Predator or Prey?

CH 7 (7.8k) | 10 Weeks Later | It’s the last Thursday in March and you’re helping pack up the wagon for Hank and his daughter, Amber, to make one of their weekly trips into town. The milk churns are loaded in the back, filled and ready for delivery to the Valley residents in town. You double check the breast collars on the horses and the traces going to the wagon while Hank asks if you’re sure you don’t wanna come with? He asks every week and every week your answer is the same.

“No thank you, Hank, there’s plenty to do here.”

While that’s certainly true, it’s not the real reason you never join them. There’s plenty to keep you busy and never a shortage of chores on a dairy farm, especially one that has almost no electrical power to help run it. But the more honest reason you don’t join them in town is that it would complicate your ability to avoid Joel. Part of you felt a finality when you got here, that whatever it was between you was over and you’d start fresh and finally be rid of him. But you should have known better. You should have known he’d still haunt you.

Your mind has still been full of him, filled with memories of the good times and the bad. You think you see him out of the corner of your eye, in places he shouldn’t be, but when you turn to look, of course he isn't there. Sometimes you think you can smell him when you walk into your room at night, but he’s definitely never been in there. You can usually avoid actively seeing him, since Hank doesn’t like to attend the Friday night events and Joel would never come this far out of town with as busy as he’s kept by Tess. But you can’t avoid him on Sundays.

Hank never presses the issue when he asks you to join him on Thursday nights, but joining them on Sundays isn’t optional. As a devout man, Hank requires everyone to dress in their best clothes and make the hour-long ride into town so you can all sit in the big, old church and hear about God’s plan for you. Every Sunday you see Joel in the front row, sitting through the service before he gets up and makes his usual speech. You scoot down in the pew, making yourself as small as possible, trying not to draw attention. He gives you none.

Once the service is over, everyone funnels out of the church to the rec hall next door. You walk past the closet where you were on your knees for your false god and try not to burn at the shameful feeling that washes over you, twisting your stomach into knots. You hate him. You miss him. You hate yourself. Sometimes Tess comes over to your table at dinner and talks to the Mansfields, making sure to ask how you’re doing and gives you kind smiles. But Joel never comes over. He sits at his table with the other women – and Beth – and keeps his back turned to you. 

You once thought that it seemed like he was putting extra effort into purposely not looking your way. You pushed the preposterous thought from your mind until you realized too late one Sunday that you were in a line to shake his hand before dinner. You were busy re-plaiting Amber’s braid at her insistence and didn’t notice how close you were to him until you heard his gruff voice speaking to Hank. It was too late for you to run the other way, which is what you usually did, so instead you ducked down, trying to hide behind Amber, knowing it was futile. 

Amber beamed at him, shaking his hand with both of hers, bubbling with praise over how great his speech was and what a great job he did. Her little crush on him had never been more annoying than it was at that moment. You knew that he knew you were there, there was no way to hide your entire body behind Amber’s diminutive frame. And yet, you watched his eyes jump over you and land on the next person in line, completely – and purposely – ignoring your presence. He was definitely making an effort.

– 

All of that happened nearly two months ago and now you just make absolutely sure to pay attention and stay away from him on Sundays, so you don’t have to notice him not noticing you. In fact, these days you hardly think of him at all. Okay, maybe that’s not quite true, but you’d like to think that in comparison to when you first got to the Mansfield’s, you’re doing much better.

The first night you’d arrived, Amber had led you up the stairs to her room, which she said you’d be sharing. The room was huge, probably three times bigger than the room you had been calling yours. You had a comfortable bed all to yourself on one side of the room as well as three dresser drawers and half the closet to fill with your things. You hadn’t brought anywhere near enough clothes to go in the spaces, but you found that Beth had unexpectedly left several items of clothing behind in a size that fit you.

When the lanterns were snuffed out for the night you’d laid your head on the pillow and cried heaving, muffled sobs, hoping Amber wouldn’t hear you. Why were you crying? You had more space and more autonomy at that moment than you’d had in months. You had a bedroom door that closed and a family that was eager to have you. No one was going to hit you, touch you, or scream at you. You were safe. And yet you felt so alone. More alone than you had in a very long time.

You’d let yourself cry until your head ached, and then you got up and walked to the bathroom, splashing some cold water on your warm, puffy face. You looked in the mirror and began to chide your pitiful reflection. 

Why are you crying over him? Why would you miss him? What is wrong with you?

These same thoughts repeated for the first week, playing over and over in your mind every time you started to feel sad. So stupid of you to cry as if you were the only one in the world with problems. The whole world had gone to hell and you were crying because some man lied to you. You shouldn’t have even fucking trusted him in the first place. You’d let yourself fall right into his trap even though everything inside you was telling you not to.

–

You wonder if he misses you or if he’s already moved on to the next one. Maybe Beth has fully replaced you and his focus is on her now, already suffocating her with affection and fucking her in your old bed. Had he asked Tess about you, or Hank, or anyone? You have thoughts about getting sick or even dying, and wonder what he would say when he heard, if he would feel bad, if he would shed a tear. He most likely wouldn’t care at all, his fixation with you having run its course. You were yesterday’s news.

You think about hurting yourself and if he’d do anything about that. Maybe he’d come out to the farm and visit you; sit by your bedside and read to you. Maybe he’d throw you over his knee and spank you for it. You wonder if you should leave The Valley, and you’re not sure which would hurt more; him coming after you or him letting you go. Maybe you should kill yourself. He’s not around to stop you. No one is.

Goddamnit, you are so fucking dramatic. None of this shit matters, anyway – your life was always a burning pile of trash and it was always going to be a burning pile of trash. A couple-months-blip of whatever pseudo-relationship you had with this man was not the pinnacle of your life. He wasn’t sent by some higher power to save you. You weren’t two halves of a whole, ripped apart at the beginning of creation, roaming the ends of the earth to find each other again. Get a fucking grip.

Oh, you were used by a man for your body? What else is new? That’s not breaking fucking news, that’s just what men do. That’s what men do to you. That is what your life has always been and clearly you’re some kind of magnet for this behavior. There is obviously something about you that all these men see and it calls out to them that you’ll fall for their bullshit every time and they can take whatever they want from you. You’re doing something wrong, leading them on somehow. You deserve this. You were asking for it.

At the end of the first week you’d told yourself you weren’t gonna go on with these spiraling, obsessive, pathetic thoughts about him anymore. You were exhausted at feeling this way and were sure everyone around you was getting tired of it too, of you moping around the farm like Eeyore, sniveling and crying. You were distracted all the time, head in the clouds. Months worth of hopes and dreams played over and over in your mind, each recalled moment had hit you like a fucking shotgun blast to the stomach.

Giggling in the hallway while he kissed your neck and tickled your skin with his stubble. Pow.

The phantom feeling of his fingertips tracing circles on your skin while he reads to you. Pow.

The heat of his body behind you, sniffing your hair, whispering, “Good morning, baby.” Pow.

His tongue sliding along your bottom lip, licking into your mouth, tasting you. Pow.

How stupid were you to think that’s what your life was going to be like? As if it could ever be like that. Your life isn’t a fucking movie, it’s not a love song, it’s not some sappy romance novel. You’re not the main character, you’re not the heroine. You don't get a happy ending. You get to be used. You get to be left. You get to be alone. You get to be hungry. You get to feel empty.

That’s what you had before, why would it be any different now, here – at the end of the world? Why would you deserve anything different?

–

You need to stop your hyper-fixating thoughts, you feel like you’re going crazy out here, haunted by him. There’s no one you can talk to or confide in, no one you trust. You have to find a way to get this out of your system. You need to figure out how to move on. You decide you’re going to let yourself have each memory one time, and then you’re gonna pack it up and send it away, so it can’t hurt you anymore. 

You find an old stack of newspapers in the loft of the barn and begin ripping off small sections. Each time you have one of these spiraling thoughts of him – losing yourself in a memory – you walk to the edge of the property and stand next to the creek that runs through there. You let yourself have the thought, from start to finish, and before you can repeat it or turn it over in your head to overthink it, you crumple the scrap of paper in your hand – crunching it down into a tiny little ball – and throw it into the creek. Once it’s out of sight you don’t let yourself dwell on it anymore. 

The conversation you had one evening, limbs entwined, between making out like teenagers on the chilly front porch, saying that if he’d met you before the world ended he’d have taken you out on a date. 

“Where would you take me?”

“Out for ice cream, to a baseball game, maybe a drive-in movie.”

“What movie?”

“Any movie you wanted to see, baby.”

“What else?”

“I’d bring you flowers, hold your hand, kiss you goodnight.”

“Would you call me after?”

“Of course I would, you’d be my girl.” 

His girl. His. His possession. Maybe that’s all he ever wanted; to own you like you were just another one of his little things on a shelf.

Into the river.

Right around Thanksgiving, he’d told you more about Sarah, his daughter. He’d told you she loved the color purple, drawing butterflies, playing soccer with her friends, and giving her old man shit. You’d thought the shine in his eyes when he talked about her was one of the best things about him. 

“Single dad?” 

“Yup.”

“Ever married?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Just never appealed to me.”

You didn’t read into it at the time but you wonder now if you shouldn’t have seen the signs, if it wasn’t obvious and you were just being willfully ignorant. Oh well.

Into the river.

You told him about going with a friend and her stepdad to their lake house for an overnight when you were little. You and your friend had spent all day playing in the water and when it was time for bed she was out as soon as her head hit the pillow. The loud, squealing of the air conditioning kicking on and off kept you awake and you reluctantly got up to ask the only adult to make it stop. He suggested you sleep in his bed instead, lifting the covers for you to join him. Against your better instincts, you crawled in. 

“How old were you?” he asked with gritted teeth. 

“Maybe eight.”

He cursed under his breath. “Wasn’t right.”

“I know.” 

“Wasn’t your fault.”

“I know that too.”

“He shouldn’t ha–” 

“I know, Joel.”

“You tell anyone? Your mom, your dad?” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“I don’t know… I guess it felt like something you’re supposed to keep secret.” 

“Did he ever–?” 

“No. I never saw him again. And I never hung out with that girl again.” 

What’s worse? The memory of it, the shame of recalling it in front of him, or the way he pitied you, holding you tighter in his arms that night than he ever had before?

Into the river.

This was your routine, sometimes once or twice a day, sometimes more. One particularly hard day early on you made nearly a dozen trips to the river. Amber asked if you were okay. You lied and told her you were fine. You had to let him go, each thought you released cleansing you of him, letting the water wash away your pain. This went on for weeks and weeks and you’re not sure if you’re actually getting better but you are feeling a little better and maybe that’s all you can hope for. 

–

Amber used to ask you a million questions a day about him. What was Joel like? Was he nice? What was his house like? What did you do there? Was it fun? You didn’t have the heart to tell her that he was both your ultimate dream and your worst nightmare, that his house was a trap that he held you in while he manipulated and hurt you, and that he was a monster hiding in plain sight in this community he created just for that purpose. Instead of divulging that heinous truth, you suffice to tell her that Joel is kind, the house is nice, and living there was fine.

It was obvious that she had a little thing for him, but if you’re being honest she probably got it from her mother, who talked about Joel with the same dreamy lilt to her voice as Amber. Hank also seemed to get misty-eyed when he talked about what great things Joel has done for the people in this valley. A wolf emerges in the apocalypse, disguising himself as a shepherd, and the sheep all flock to him. You remind yourself not to judge them too harshly since you too were once one of the sheep.

You’d been living with the Mansfields for about a month when Amber started to make comments about Beth coming back to the house. Your stomach lept into your throat, thinking that it meant you’d have to go back to your tiny, doorless room at Joel’s house. But the more she spoke the more you realized she was acting like she would be the one going to live at Joel’s. You realized that you saw them last Sunday, hunched in a corner, talking to each other. You’d just assumed she had trapped him into talking to her, knowing how captivated she was with everything that came out of his mouth.

But now you wonder if they haven’t been growing closer, getting to know each other at the Thursday meetings she insisted on going to when you turned down Hank’s offer to accompany him as Beth had. Maybe he likes how infatuated she is with him, it certainly seems like that’s something he’d be into – being worshiped. Maybe he’s already offered her the little room at the top of the stairs. She can mend holes in clothes and cook much better than you ever could, maybe she’d suck his dick better than you too. You hate the way your insides churn even more at that thought.

He’s moved on, forgotten about you. He’s onto the next one. He doesn’t even look at you anymore.

Hank had his wife, Laurel, give you chores early on, doing some of the work that Beth used to do around the house. However, she quickly realized what Tess had already figured out, that you weren’t any good at that kind of stuff. Within a week you had exhausted her patience and she sent you out to the barn for Hank to find work for you. 

You’re pretty sure Hank liked you, you’d always had nice conversations with him on Thursdays, relating to him that your grandparents had a farm and you’d grown up visiting it. You’d left out the part where the farm was no longer operational when you visited it and maybe Hank had been happy to have you and Beth switch rooms when he thought he was getting some kind of experienced farm worker. So Hank gave you plenty of work, as there was always a ton to do, and then left you unsupervised most of the day while he tended to the silo levels, the pasture fences, the sanitizing of the milk churns, and countless other tasks.

Two ranch hands – Danny and Diego – live at the house with the family and spend every day, all day, working with Hank to operate the farm. They help milk the cows and goats, tend to sick animals, help with feedings, take care of cleaning of the freestalls, and also pretty much do every single job that Hank assigns to you.

You think they felt bad for you, with your puffy face and red eyes, dragging yourself around the barn during that dark before dawn at the end of that first week. Feeling dejected and out of sorts, missing the familiarity of your old home, being useless at basic homestead chores – they kept catching you crying in any corner you could find to yourself. They started doing your work back then, and even though that was over two months ago, you still barely lift a finger. Hank never seems to notice, all he cares is that the work is done.

You don’t talk much, you just keep to yourself and pet the animals. For a while you thought they must think you were stupid, but it turns out they just wanted to get on your good side. One day early on, they asked if you’d told Tess or Joel about them, and not knowing what the answer should be, you’d muttered not yet, and ran away. It wasn’t until you walked into the barn one snowy morning weeks later and found them standing too close to each other that it even dawned on you what part of them they were asking about.

You knew Hank wouldn’t approve if he saw them behaving that way, if he knew what it implied. Maybe he’d already seen them, and a threat had been made. Hank was a conservative man, old fashioned and strict. You thought maybe the phrase small-minded might also apply, but Hank was kind to all of you, so you tried not to judge him too harshly. You weren’t entirely sure why Danny and Diego were worried about Tess or Joel finding out about their relationship, but you were pretty sure they wouldn’t give a shit. 

Joel was probably fucking half the women in town, why would he care if two guys down the valley were fucking each other? You kept that tidbit to yourself, along with the stories that Tess used to tell you about her gay brother, so that Danny and Diego would keep helping you – keep doing all your work. That was probably a little fucked up, to hold it over their heads in a way, but it also kept your boots from being covered in cow shit from mucking stalls all morning and your fingers from freezing off while milking cows all afternoon. It also meant you got to hang out with baby goats, which was sometimes the only happiness you had.

–

It’s the last Sunday in March and you’re sitting in the middle of the pew, wedged between Amber and Diego, as Joel gets up to address the congregation. Before you can do your usual sinking down in the seat to make yourself less visible, you see Bianca out of the corner of your eye. Bianca is here! You haven’t seen her since she moved out of the house before Thanksgiving.

You’re so focused on trying to look around the people’s heads in front of you to see her that you aren’t fully listening to the announcement Joel is making. Everyone around you begins to stand up and applaud and it makes it impossible to see Bianca, so you stand as well, confused now what everyone is clapping for. Slowly the applause dies down and everyone is sitting back down, but trying to get a glimpse of your friend, you remain standing a little too long.

And that’s when you see it. The baby. A very small baby. A newborn baby. Joel is holding it and smiling and as everyone sits down he hands it back to Bianca. You forget you’re supposed to be sitting down and don’t notice that everyone else around you is already seated. You’re still standing there, staring at this baby. Bianca has a baby? Wait, is that Joel’s fucking baby?

Amber is tugging on your shirt sleeve but it’s too late, Joel has turned back to the crowd, and for the first time in ten weeks, he looks right at you. You can’t fucking move, you can’t look away. The two of you stare at each other for far too long and you notice people starting to look back and forth between you, a low murmur spreading over the mass. Amber starts pulling frantically on your arm and Hank’s voice booms from the end of the row, ordering you to sit down. You hear Tess hissing Joel’s name from the front row.

A cheshire cat grin creeps across his face and he finally breaks eye contact with you, turning to address the congregation once more. You sit, plopping down heavily in your seat. You think Hank and his wife are whispering about you and Amber is telling you how embarrassing that was, but you can’t hear anything over the thumping of your own heart and the ringing in your ears. Bianca was fucking pregnant… the whole time? The whole time. Bile rises in your throat. Only then does it dawn on you that Tess moved her out when she started to show. That’s why she was getting bigger. Saliva begins to flood your mouth.

Joel fucked every woman in that house. Jesus fucking Christ, you were so blind. Your stomach lurches. He must fuck Tess too. No wonder Tess wanted you out of there – you were taking up too much of his time, too much of his focus. That’s probably why she sent Bianca away too, looking at her pregnant belly would have been a reminder that Joel was fucking all those other people. Tess must be jealous, right? You don’t blame her. You’d be jealous too. Fuck, you are jealous. Still. Even now, after all this time. 

You jump up out of your seat and scrabble over laps, ignoring Hank’s protests you exit the pew and dart out of the sanctuary. Once in the foyer you run into the nearest bathroom and retch into the sink, unable to make it to the toilet. Once the contents of your stomach have been emptied out, you splash your face with water and rinse your mouth out.

–

You hide in the bathroom until the service ends, listening as people pass by the door, telling Amber you’re fine and you’ll meet the family in the rec hall when she comes in to check on you. You wait until you don’t hear any more conversation or shuffling feet in the foyer to finally exit the bathroom. The entire building is empty except for one other person who is waiting outside the bathroom when you come out.

Joel.

Your boots squeak on the floor as you stop quickly in your tracks with the full weight of his attention on you now. You forgot how heavy it feels, locked in his gaze – an invisible weight pushing down on your body and trapping you where you stand. You can’t run away, you can’t even manage to look away. How does he still have this fucking effect on you? He stands before you, seemingly just a man, but taking up the whole room, monumental and intimidating. But in this moment, caught up in the flood of emotions you feel, you forget that you’re supposed to be afraid of him. You forget because the strongest thing you feel right now is anger.

“Is that your baby?” you snarl.

He scoffs and waits a beat, letting you anticipate his response. “That’s none of your goddamn business,” he replies – in a church – one corner of his mouth turning up.

“Fuck you.”

He cocks an eyebrow and takes a single step towards you, a reminder that you should be afraid of him. You gasp and take two steps backwards, colliding with the wall behind you, your head hitting it with a thump that echoes in the empty hall. He’s searching your face now, eyes pausing on your mouth. You’re reminded that the closet where he had you on your knees is only a few feet away. Your heart starts to race and you take rapid breaths, feeling the adrenaline begin to course through your veins.

No. He’s not gonna intimidate you. He’s going to fucking answer you.

“Who’s baby was that?” you ask again, louder this time. He looks surprised you’re still speaking. “Is that your fucking baby?”

“What do you care?” he snaps.

“I– I don’t,” you stammer.

Another scoff. He’s fucking laughing at you. Another smug grin. This son of a bitch. 

“Well now,” he shakes his head slowly, “That really doesn’t seem like the truth.”  He takes measured steps forward, closing in on you.

“It is,” you manage to squeak out, swallowing around the lump in your throat with an audible gulp. This is the least fucking convincing thing you’ve ever said. “I don’t care. I just wanna know–”

Tsk, he hums, interrupting you. “Sounds like a lie to me,” he shakes his head more and takes another step, nearly toe to toe with you now.

You do everything in your power to keep your chin up, to keep your eyes locked on his and your teeth gritted. You hate him. You miss him. You hate yourself. 

“You’d know,” you spit. “All you do is lie.” You’re half insulting him, half reminding yourself.

“At least I’m good at it, sweetheart.”

–

The ride back to the farm is quiet. Laurel asks if you’re feeling okay but otherwise no one mentions the scene you and Joel made during the service. Once you get back you head to your room with Amber, both of you changing into less formal clothes to do your afternoon chores. You dress slowly, letting her finish first and leave you alone in the room. 

You pull the backpack Tess had given you the night you came here out of the back of the closet. When she had handed it to you behind the skating rink, it was already packed with your clothes and any little trinkets you’d had in your room. She’d packed you a couple books but you noticed she hadn’t included the one Joel had given you on Christmas, the one you never read, the one you never even took to your room, the one you tried not to think about every time you saw it sitting on the mantle. 

You had told her you would give Beth your room and she pulled this bag out of a wagon, ready to send you on your way. She was ready for you to go even if you weren’t, and so you went. That night. Without so much as a goodbye. You take that bag now and hold it by your legs, walking down the stairs to the basement as casually as possible.

When you come up from the basement, you run out to the barn to pretend to do your afternoon chores. Danny and Diego do anything you were expected to do and you spend time petting some of your favorite goats and hanging out in the hayloft. When the sun begins to set you rip a large piece of newspaper off the stack and climb down, sneaking out of the barn, down the lane, and to the creek.

It’s time to let go of another memory. Maybe your last one? This is a big one. You’ve been holding onto it, trying your best not to think of it, willing yourself to pass over it the way Joel’s eyes would pass over you on Sundays. If you’re honest with yourself, you’ve been unwilling to let it go. Until now. Now it’s time.

You let yourself remember the night…

You’d already let him into your pants in the hallway after the meeting a few weeks prior, and you knew that fucking him was an eventuality. That week the meeting ended late and every other person shuffled out of the meeting hall before you had even finished putting the chairs away. Joel stood at the door, holding it open for the last farmer and his son, letting the cold, snowy air pour in as he said his goodbyes.

When he quietly closed the door, he turned to the open, empty room and looked you in the eyes. He reached over and flipped all the light switches, casting the room in sudden darkness. With no time for your eyes to adjust you were temporarily blind, hands immediately out at your front, searching, waiting for him to sneak up on you. Your nervous giggle is interrupted by the flick and hiss of a match and then he’s right there, only a couple feet in front of you, lighting a candle.

He leans over and sets it on the ground and then brings his match to a second candle. He repeats this process until there is a wide circle of what must be a dozen burning lights surrounding you both on the floor. He steps inside the circle, holds out his hand for yours, and you swear you can hear music when he pulls you in tight to his body and begins swaying back and forth with you.

This is new, being alone together like this. You’ve never been anywhere so quiet with him. At home it’s hardly ever quiet, and even when you do get time alone with him, it always seems to be interrupted. If you go home right now, he goes to his bedroom, you go to yours, and the night ends – but here, dancing in his arms amidst the flames, time slows down.

“You’ve been keeping secrets from me, Joel,” you’d teased.

“Oh?”

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you’d said, your head resting on his body.

He grazed his lips across your cheek, placing kisses as he moved them to your ear.

“Maybe this is what we’d do on our first date,” he’d whispered.

“Dinner and dancing?”

“Dancing and breakfast,” he corrects.

“Breakfast?”

“The next morning,” he smiles, and you do too, and then he kisses you.

That kiss held a million promises. It made you forget everything that happened before him. That was when you knew you were in love with him. The earth stood still and everything else faded away. The warm circle of light illuminated you both and made the rest of the room seem even darker. Nothing outside that circle mattered. You were the only two people on earth. You existed only for each other.

He must have known it, at that moment, he must have been able to tell. It was obvious, wasn’t it? Your body went limp in his arms and you let every last trace of doubt and fear leave your body, submitting to your desire for him. Submitting to his desire for you. All pretense of dancing was given up and your passionate kisses became deeper. 

He held you tight and slowly began to remove your clothing, calling you baby and whispering adorations to you in the flickering glow of the candlelight. Holding your breasts in his massive hands, he dipped his head to your chest, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and circling it with his tongue. He sucked the bud past his teeth and lightly bit down, soothing it with the flat of his tongue while you dragged your nails across his scalp, mewling at his ministrations. 

It wasn’t until he finally got you completely naked that you’d realized he was still fully dressed. You kept trying to touch the front of his pants like you’d done before but he wouldn’t let anything but your pleasure be the focus. He let you grind yourself on him, his hands grabbing your ass, pushing you on his thigh, using his body for friction as you continued to makeout, but he wouldn’t let you give his cock any attention. 

He slowly sunk you both down to the cold linoleum floor and at last began to unbutton his shirt. He shucked his flannel down his arms, leaving his undershirt on, and spread it out on the floor beside you. Using his hands to guide you, he positioned you on your hands and knees overtop his shirt.

You remember the feel of the soft green flannel under your knees, the cold air hitting the wetness that had smeared down your inner thighs, his burning hot hands running down your back to grab and spread your ass, and the gentle kisses he placed all over you. You could barely make out the quiet things he was saying he was going to do to you, it almost felt like he was talking to himself.

I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. I’m gonna take care of you. Let me taste you, baby.

You had your head turned, watching him, until he bent down and began licking you. You closed your eyes as your face went red-hot with embarrassment that another person was seeing you like this, had his mouth on you there. You’d had boys put their mouth on your pussy before but never like this. Never with your most intimate parts spread wide and on display, a face buried in them and devouring you.

The boys before had laid you on your back and bobbed their head up and down, taking halting, tentative licks. You had waited for it to feel like it was supposed to, watching them fumbling in your folds only to give up mere minutes later, moving along to chase their own pleasure as if what they just did was anything close to what you wanted. Giving you just a glimpse of what it could be but never delivering what you needed, as if the act itself was perfunctory, just a means to an end. This was different. 

Joel wasn’t tentative and he wasn’t fumbling. Joel knew exactly what he was doing, knew right where and how to touch you. Almost immediately your shame turned to pleasure as he lapped at you gently, swollen and extra-sensitive in anticipation as you were. This was what it was supposed to feel like. This is how a man was supposed to touch you. You began to moan and he pulled his face back a little, kissing and nuzzling your ass cheeks while bringing his hands to spread you again.

So fucking beautiful, you are so fucking beautiful here. Look how wet you are for me, baby. Can you feel this? Can you feel it? Do you know how beautiful you are? 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to tell him to stop calling you beautiful because the next thing he did was slowly slide two fingers into your gushing hole. The sting of the stretch was eased by the pleasure of the fullness, his thick fingers taking up so much space inside you, pushing on your walls. You felt wetness practically flowing out of you and you thought it must be dripping down his hand. Before you could feel any embarrassment his fingers began to shift out and back in, and you immediately thought about how good his cock would feel filling you up like this, making you moan long and loud.

Yes baby, let me hear you, tell me how it feels. Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need. 

You managed to blabber something about needing him to touch you there, somehow still too shy - despite your current condition – to say the word clit to him. You didn’t have to, he knew what you needed. He pulled his fingers out and you heard him shuffle around and when you worked up the courage to look backwards you saw his knees sticking up behind you. Oh shit. You looked down, underneath you instead. He’d positioned himself laying on his back, face up, directly under your cunt. You had never had anyone do this to you.

Come on baby, sit back. No, shhhh, it’s alright. Just lower yourself down a little, just like that baby. I need to eat this pussy. I need you, please.

He guided you down by your hips until his lips made contact with your core. You were too scared to put your full weight on him so you remained leaned forward a bit on your hands, hovering just above his head with shaking thighs, despite his incessant pulling on your ass downward and moaning into your wet heat. His lips closed around your sensitive bud and you felt him begin to gently suck on it. 

You couldn’t believe he was doing this. You were dizzy with desire. Never in your life had anyone had their mouth on you like this, like they were making out with your cunt. You alternated between feverishly throwing your head back and lowering your chin to your chest to greedily take in the sight of him ravenously eating you. You had never felt such blinding pleasure at the hands of another and you couldn’t stop yourself from wailing in ecstasy. You watched him pull away from you to take deep, gulping breaths, licking his lips of your wetness spread all over the lower half of his face. 

Sit down baby, you can sit on my face. Just relax, I’m gonna make you feel so good. I know what you need, baby. I’m gonna take care of you. You taste so good, so fuckin’ sweet. This pussy was made for me.

You were trying not to sit down on his face, trying not to suffocate him, trying not to think about what a fucking mess he was making of you and you of himself. When he slowly pushed his thick fingers back inside your wet clutch, any and all thoughts left your head completely. He increased the suction of his mouth on your clit and began to flick the tip of his tongue up and down, maintaining a steady tempo of stimulating your clit and fucking you on his fingers.

The pace he set was bringing you closer to your release – for the first time in your life you were able to push everything else out of your mind and focus on your own pleasure. You sat back on your knees a bit more, putting more weight onto him and letting his hands hold you at your hips. You reached between your legs to run your fingers through his hair, wanting to give him a fraction of the intimacy he was giving you. You could hardly believe it. This was how sex was supposed to feel. This is why people liked it so much. This is why it meant so much. You had never felt anything close to this. This was everything. 

Never faltering in his movements, never breaking his rhythm, he carried you higher and higher, finally cresting over your peak. Head thrown back and gripping his hair in your fists, fireworks burst behind your eyes as his name poured out of your mouth. You let him guide your hips in slow, smooth movements across his face, riding out the waves of your climax. 

With muffled groans he continued to eat you through your orgasm, grabbing handfuls of your ass and reaching up to pinch your nipples until his insatiable attention became overwhelming and started to sting, causing you to shrink away from his touch. He pulled back then, gently turned you on your back – still on top of his flannel – and you leaned back on your elbows as he moved back to your cunt, gently lapping up your release. 

You couldn’t believe how good it still felt, his hot tongue gently rasping against your swollen lips, his wet breath panting across your core. He was still moaning into you, the vibrations a pleasant sensation as he licked up everything you could give him. He placed kisses on your inner thighs and over your mound before rising to help you up and get back into your clothes. It wasn’t until the next day that you’d realized Joel must have left your underwear somewhere scattered on the floor and had blushed, hoping that whoever found them later wouldn’t know it was you who’d lost them.

You did so good, baby, that was so good. You were so beautiful. You tasted so good. So good, baby.

You briefly noticed there was a wet stain on the front of his pants but you weren’t sure if it was from him or from you. He locked up and then carried you back to the house that night, your legs were complete jello. You were pretty sure Tess was still up when you got back but you couldn’t think about the state she saw you in, all you could think about was him. He’d put you down on the porch at your insistence but he still had to help you up the stairs to your room. You’d fallen into bed and were asleep within minutes. 

That was the night you knew you were all-in. You gave yourself over to him completely. Even though you didn’t have sex, you knew you would have. You would have done anything for him, let him do anything to you. You would have let him ruin you. You were ready to give up every part of you, and knew you would have sex with him soon, knew that it was inevitable. That was the night you placed your heart into his massive hands and left it with him so that he could mangle it to pieces and leave you a broken person.

But even that’s not a fair assessment, is it? That’s not a correct memory. You were always a broken person. He didn’t cause it and he never could have fixed it. There was something inside you that was irreparable. It was never his job to fulfill your needy fantasies. You can be mad at him for lying to you but you need to face your own part in this. You did this to yourself. You put yourself in this position.

The only solution is to remove yourself from the equation. You don’t belong here, you never did. You probably don’t really belong anywhere. You’re not meant to be with him. He can’t fucking save you. You have to save yourself. You have to find your own way. You have to leave. You have to leave.

You focus on the feel of the delicate, aged paper in your hands, the soft squeaking noises it makes as you push it into your palm, the way you push it back and forth in your hands to get it as small as possible. Then you hold it in between your thumb and forefinger, hold your arm out over the water, and drop it in. You watch as the ball is quickly overtaken by moisture, pulled under the surface, and carried away on the current. 

–

In the dimming light of dusk you can see inside the farmhouse quite well. Lit by lanterns, you see Laurel through the kitchen window, working with Amber to fix dinner as Hank sits in his chair in the living room reading his bible. You turn your head and see the two ranch hands in the far field, herding the goats into their shed for the night. No one is looking for you.

You pick up your backpack from the ground and secure it over your shoulders, walking down the lane for the last time, never to return.

🖤

NEXT

Thank you so so so much to my amazing editor, @papipascalispunk, for helping me with this series, even when you're sick and high on cold medicine 🫂You're the fucking A-1 steak sauce.

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin @heimtathurss @untamedheart81 @pixielou5 @feel1n-h1gh @elegantduckturtle @koshkaj-blog

[ghostchems]

infernal - terzo x f!reader - part three

art by the insanely talented @stainedlilac!

author’s note: sorry for the delay but i've been tinkering with this for a few months! i get married in a week so this is my wedding gift to you all. it's here and he's stoney-baloneyed and hot and bad and our poor reader is falling right into his trap. we got some defiling of a scarf this chapter. it's about 4.1k words. part one here, part two here. ao3 linky.

“She’s not even listening!”

Your eyes blink into focus on Catherine who is laughing. You groan and lovingly give her a dirty look.

“It’s Friday, let me zone out if I want to.” You slouch in your seat and twirl your glass in your hands. What had they been talking about? You try to remember but they are right — you absolutely have not been listening and you do feel bad about it. It’s been harder to make plans ever since you started your new job, despite the normal hours. Most nights you come home exhausted but also strangely excited for the next day to start. This is the first time you’ve seen your friends since and you should at least try to pay attention. 

“Okay, okay I guess zoning out is okay. I guess you can’t do too much of that at your new job?” Erica chimes in and leans over the table closer to you. “I feel like whenever we didn’t have calls we would always have these zone out staring contests.” 

“Oh my gosh, yes. And then we would realize that we’ve been staring at each other for a weird amount of time.” You give a soft laugh. You do miss working with Erica but you don’t miss the job. Catherine starts to chime in about how she barely has any time to zone out as a teacher and your mind starts to drift again, having heard this kind of talk from her so many times before. 

You think about what happened today. There have been situations over the last few weeks that made you ache in ways you know you shouldn’t for your boss but today might have been the most intense one yet.

You can’t stop thinking about it. 

***

You walk into the den and immediately smell the strong aroma of marijuana which means that you are getting goofy Terzo. There is still some hesitation in your steps, not wanting to bother him especially since from what you can see he is in the middle of watching something. You take a few moments to scan over the den. In the corner of the room is a wooden bar with a fancy cabinet behind it filled with fancy liquors and crystal glasses. You’re surprised by how stylish this room is compared to the rest but then again, the lights are off. 

Terzo is snuggled up on the couch in a t-shirt and shorts, his body draped across the couch entwined in a blanket. Your gaze drifts to the television and you gasp, giving up your position in the room. Terzo’s eyes immediately find you and he gives you a sleepy, sideways grin. His makeup is smudged which is common but it looks particularly messed up around his eyes. He’s been wanting you to come in here to see him, his mind wandering from the television every so often to think what would happen if you did — and now you’re here. 

“Ah, toppolino! Come, have a seat.” He slinks into the corner of the couch, offering you the space next to him as he gives it a few pat, heavy-lidded eyes giving you a flirty look. You swallow thickly, hesitating for what feels like an eternity before you relent, your feet feeling heavy as you walk over to the couch. You take a seat where he gestured and he’s quick to offer you the half-lit joint between his fingers, his shoulder leaning against yours as he quirks a brow. A breath catches in your throat — you’ve worked for him for weeks now and he always offered but something always held you back from accepting. 

Not today. 

You take a deep, long drag as he holds the lighter to the joint, his eyes never leaving your face. It burns but you don’t cough, perhaps trying a bit too hard not to. Terzo is so pleased, his smile only widening as he watches you inhale and exhale the weed. He feels a rush from you finally giving into this temptation, having tried to lure you in since you started. You don’t know that he’s been eagerly awaiting you to accept because he saw it as another step closer to doing what he wants with you. He’s slowly trying to wear away at your boundaries, especially after your reaction to him raising his voice to you. Terzo knew he could get you to play along. 

You feel him relax next to you, leaning in to rest his head on your shoulder as he turns his attention back to the television. Your eyes stay trained on the floor for a long moment, caught off guard by him. A blush rises to your cheeks. You choose not to think too hard about it and end up being your gaze up to focus on the footage playing. 

“I didn’t think you were in an acoustic band.” You say after a long moment of silence, becoming distracted by the video. It’s of him, dressed in the clothes you’ve grown so used to seeing in photos, performing to a small crowd of people, flanked by two men in masks. Terzo laughs, deep and full, and it makes you smile. He doesn’t laugh like that often. 

“I am a man of many talents, puffetta. This was to give the public a little taste of myself and the new album. We did a handful of these acoustic shows.” He picks up some blanket and smoothes it over your lap, heat rising through your chest up to your cheeks as his hand lingers in your lap for a moment. He notices. He always notices. Fingers lightly drift up the top of your thigh before he gently takes your hand in his. Your breath catches in your throat. Terzo’s touch is so soft, his hands feeling like butter as he places your own in his lap.

“You have a very nice singing voice.” Your voice comes out quiet like a house, almost shy about complimenting him on his talents. But in truth, it draws you in like a siren song. The way he moves his body, using his hands to accentuate the lyrics, and the deep eye contact with the camera and those in the crowd, is all but an act of seduction. You almost catch yourself swooning at the way he croons before remembering that he is sitting right beside you on the couch, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand that’s currently in his lap. The weed is hitting and you find yourself staring at the way his thumb moves, the way it feels against your skin, your eyes hazy and your cheeks starting to burn.  

“Grazie a mile. I see you like my dance moves too, eh?” He nudges you playfully and you giggle. Giggle! The weed is hitting. You are comfortable next to him, eyes hazy as your attention shifts from him to the videos and then back to him every so often. The more you look at him the more you notice how the brightness of his face starts to fade until his lips are pressed into a straight line. Maybe it’s difficult for him to watch this, his glory days, which seem to be such a thing of the past for some reason. 

“Have you thought about getting the band back together? Or doing some solo shows or something? You look like you belong on the stage.” 

“It doesn’t work like that, toppolino. My time was up and that was that.” He gives a sigh, shaking his head. There’s genuine sadness in his voice. You don’t understand how it could be so difficult for him to perform again but you choose not to pry. If he wants to talk about it, he would and his short response tells you all that you need to know. Silence passes between the two of you and Terzo lets go of your hand only to curl both of his arms around your waist. You rest your own hands on your stomach and he places his own on top of yours, fingers stroking gently at your wrists. It’s like he knows every way to take your breath away.

Terzo slips his shoulder behind your back, his chest pressing against you and he rests his head on your own shoulder. The two of you continue watching in comfortable silence, his wonderful singing voice filling your ears, his quips and jokes making you giggle. You feel moved by his former self and you feel… bad for him. You never had before but now, seeing how much he thrived in front of a crowd, how at ease he was and how their energy fed him compared to him living completely alone in a giant house makes your heart feel heavy in your chest. It doesn’t last too long, though, his deft touch and the way his exhales tickle your neck clouding your mind along with the weed.

Even with the slightly uncomfortable topic of conversation, Terzo is buzzing. It is taking all of his self control not to pull you into his lap and slip his hands between your legs, to feel if you are as aroused as he is right now. He wants to taste you. He wants to make you whine, to make tears stream down your face from how good he makes you feel, to hear his name dangling off your lips while you are completely at his mercy. Terzo grits his teeth as he holds himself back, trying to revel in the moment without pushing too far.

You start to feel hot. Tension building inside of you that is making it hard to focus on the video. You become all too aware of the way you’re breathing, chest rising and falling with each deep intake of air. Your head starts to feel heavy and you lean back, further pressing your back against Terzo’s chest. He makes a quiet, surprised groan, his hands squeezing your wrists tighter. Your cheeks flush and you feel a familiar throb between your thighs, shifting your body to try and stifle it but it just makes you press even further into him. It feels like something is about to snap inside, a bad decision about to happen even though it’s all you want right now until —

ZAP! 

You swear you see a flash of green and then there’s a sharp pain on one of your wrists. A surprised yelp spills out of you and you quickly snatch your hand from his grip. Terzo moves impossibly fast, somehow already on his knees in front of you, your delicate wrist already in his hand. 

“Oh no, have I hurt you?” He sounds sick with worry, his fingers lightly brushing over the spot.

“Just a shock. It’s all—“

“Non muoverti, prendo del ghiaccio.” Terzo murmurs and climbs quickly to his feet, leaving you alone in the room as videos of him play on the tv. You have no idea what he said. You run the pad of your thumb lightly over your wrist, reaching the mark only for it to sting from your touch. He’s back and on his knees before you again, already having your wrist in hand as he presses an ice cube wrapped in a paper towel to it. His sleepy, black locks fall into his face as he looks up at you. You watch as he stays focused on you and your reactions while he knits his brows, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. Care is written all over his face.

It makes you feel wanted. 

“I am so sorry, toppolino.” His voice cracks as his eyes drop down to your wrist. He wants to kiss it better so badly. How could he have done that to you? What even was that? Terzo’s mind flickers back to how you felt against him, how warm you were in his arms. He feels a pang of anger for having that moment ripped from him. You reach out and lightly tousle his hair.

“Don’t worry.” You smile shyly and pull the ice cube from his hand so that you can hold it yourself. “I should check how the landscaper is doing.” You almost feel guilty for leaving him but you’re a teensy bit too high to handle the intensity that is radiating off of him. Terzo nods slowly but he still stays kneeling in front of you as you stand. The look in his eyes sends shivers down your spine. You reach out and ruffle his hair as another reassurance but you can’t help but get caught up feeling how soft it is beneath your fingers before leaving the room. 

Terzo stays on his knees and presses his face against the cushion of the couch after you’ve gone. Your scent lingers on the blanket. He groans quietly and digs his hands into it, bringing it up to his face. He was so close. So close. Terzo could almost taste you.

How much longer could he wait?

***

“New job is taking up a lot of your time, huh?” Erica asks as you eye your drink, contemplating if you should have another. There’s judgment in her voice but you ignore it, chalking it up to her being maybe a little bit jealous that you’ve escaped the call center. 

“Oh, definitely. He’s kind of a mess.” You smile and end up sliding your drink to the center of the table, deciding you’re finished for the night. It is Friday but you still have to drive home and you’re not trying to stay out for longer than you have to. “Rich, though. And also loves weed.”

“He sounds perfect. Maybe you found yourself a sugar daddy.” Catherine speaks up and you find your cheeks flushing red. It’s not the first time you’ve thought of Terzo as daddy. 

“He’s already paying me a lot.” You give a shrug, attempting to push the thought of how he had yelled at you, his anger making your core ache for him in a way you’ve never felt before. “But maybe — I might be open to it.” They both giggle. Your mind starts to wander, thinking about what he might be doing now. 

Terzo clocked the scarf you removed from your neck that morning. It’s a deep red with a black floral design and a silky texture. You left it on the entryway table and when you left for the day you didn’t notice that it was gone. In fact, you completely forgot all about it. Terzo had grabbed it and slipped it into his pocket before scurrying up the stairs to hide it away in his bedroom. Now, he is laying in bed with it in his hands, feeling the soft satin against his fingers. Maybe he would keep it forever, hidden away in a drawer in his room for him to use when he is missing you. Maybe he’d start a collection of your things.

He hums quietly, tilting his head back against one of his pillows as he brings the scarf to his face. Terzo takes a deep inhale, breathing in your scent and then giving a rumbling moan. He was so close to having you today. He could see it in your eyes how badly you wanted him and then he ruined it. Terzo pulls the scarf from his face, dragging it down his chest before settling it against his shorts. His cock is already bulging and throbbing underneath the fabric just from your scent and reminiscing about earlier in the day. He is certain that the seed is planted, all it needs to do now is take root and grow.

But it would have been so easy to take you today. He could have moved his hand closer and closer to that spot between your legs, lightly drifting his fingers along the seams until you couldn’t take it anymore, begging for him to go just a bit further. You would have spread your legs wide from him as his hand slipped down your pants, toying with the waistband of your panties. 

“Fuck.” Terzo’s hips jerk from the scene he has come up with in his mind, pressing your scarf more firmly against his bulge. His thoughts are a blur now, jumping ahead in his little fantasy to think about how your tight little cunt might feel around his pulsing cock. Terzo would keep you in his lap, hands firm on your hips as he pushes in as deep as he possibly could. He imagines what you might sound like, soft little sounds spilling from your lips while you take him. And then, he would stay still and make you squirm, make you beg for him to move his hips, to take you and –

A growl catches in his throat as he makes a mess in his shorts, his hips stuttering and his free hand fisting into the covers. Terzo could never finish out his fantasies of you, always reaching the point of no return before any real action could be thought up. His chest rises and falls, giving strangled breaths as he closes his eyes. How long would he last when he finally fucks you? His lips curl into a small smile at the thought – even if he cums early he would make sure to play with you until you're a whimpering mess. He sits up in bed and lifts the scarf to examine the damage: if there are any cum stains on it. None that he could see. He hums in satisfaction, dropping the scarf back in his lap but his gaze stays fixed on it.

An idea crosses his mind. 

You’re about to ask for the check when your phone lights up. A frown crosses your face as you focus on the message preview.

You left your scarf. Come get it. Now.

“What is it?” The concern in Erica’s voice snaps you out of your trance. The color has drained from your face, anxiety brewing in the pit of your stomach from his tone. You left your scarf and Terzo sounds pissed about it. Is he in one of his moods? He has hardly ever texted you nor has he asked you to come by after hours before. You suck in a deep breath and grab your phone, slipping it into your coat pocket.

“Duty calls.” You offer a weak smile, your heart pounding in your ears. “Everything’s fine. Uh, just shoot me a venmo request for what I owe for dinner, alright?” Before they get a chance to respond you’re walking away from the table, brisk steps as your breathing starts to speed up. You can’t help but feel like you’re in trouble even though you don’t know how leaving a scarf could be a punishable offense. Your brain typically jumps to the worst possible conclusion, especially when your boss is the one aggressively texting you at 7:30pm on a Friday evening.

“Hey! Wait!” Catherine is chasing after you, nearly out of breath. You blink and realize you’re already at your car door, your feet having taken you where you needed to go while your mind raced. 

“I said you could shoot me a Venmo request—“

“No, no, this isn’t about that. I promised my brother I would ask you-“

“Dylan?” 

“Y-yeah, he’s been asking about you. A lot. He wanted me to ask if you were interested in getting dinner with him sometime.” Catherine is nearly out of breath as she rattles the question off to you. To say you are frazzled is an understatement. You’ve had a crush on Dylan since you were a kid and even though so much time has passed since then, the two of you having grown up, you still had a soft spot for him. You wish you could take a moment to fully comprehend the fact that your childhood crush is asking you out for dinner (through his sister, which isn’t the best but can’t win ‘em all) but the gnawing stress of Terzo’s text overrides everything. 

“Sure, yeah!” You are frantic, quickly getting into your car and then shouting through your window that is not rolled down. “Give him my number or whatever!”

And you’re driving away. There is no way you can think about anything right now, your thoughts running together in strings that make no sense. But there’s no way Terzo could be mad at you because you haven’t done anything wrong. Your feet slam on the breaks, throwing your car into park and opening your door in one swift movement. The rambling thoughts that had been clouding your brain disappear once you see him standing on his porch, waiting for you. You suck in a deep breath and hold it for a moment before getting out of the car, forcing yourself to mellow out. The last thing you want to do is march up there guns blazing. 

He is absolutely delighted. You came when he texted, sparing no time and not even giving him a heads up you were on your way over. He must have weaseled his way deep into your head and it makes groan to himself, eyeing you in your car. Terzo wonders what else he could ask of you. 

“Buonasera, toppolino! You did not answer my text.” Terzo waves to you, the scarf dangling off of his fingers. He doesn’t sound angry whatsoever which is baffling to you. You end up standing right in front of the porch steps and he is towering over you on the top step, his shoulders broad in his smoking jacket. Terzo’s face is blank but there is a spark of mischief in his eyes as he starts to twirl the scarf in front of you. “Is this a gift you left me, eh?” He’s wearing his smoking jacket again but with a dress shirt underneath that is tastefully unbuttoned to expose his dark chest hair. You’ve seen it plenty of times before — he had a knack for being shirtless in front of you but this felt far more enticing, like he had framed his chest just for you.

“I forgot it! I don't even remember wearing a scarf this morning.” You cross your arms, eyes narrowing at him. Still a goof it seems. “Was it really important to have me pick it up now? Was my scarf bothering you?” You’re teasing but there is an edge to your voice because how could you not be annoyed at the situation? He worked you up for no reason. You left dinner with friends for this. Terzo’s lips twitch into a grin and he tilts his head, eyeing you suggestively. 

“Scusi? I am being a gentleman, puffetta.” He dramatically walks down the stairs until he is on the last step, still towering above you as he brings the scarf up to your neck. Your breath catches when his fingertips brush along your neck, looping the scarf around your neck and making sure to touch your tender skin more than is necessary. “I don’t want that pretty little neck of yours to get chilly.” You forget why you were frustrated with him in the first place as he touches you, your lips quivering and your skin burning from the sensation. Terzo is so handsome in this light, the dark paints around his eyes making his mismatched irises glow. He cups your jaw and tilts your head back, looking over his work of tying your scarf firmly around your neck, thumb lightly grazing along your cheek.

You look delicious to him with your lips parted and your eyes half-lidded. Terzo could easily take it too far, he thinks about gripping your neck and squeezing just to see what would happen but baby steps. You would be begging for him to touch you sooner or later. His thumb swipes at the corner of your lips before pulling his hand away from you and taking a step back up another stair, miraculously not tripping over his own feet. The two of you stand still and stare at each other before finally you adjust the scarf around your neck that he tied just a tad too.

“What does puffetta mean?” You break the silence. Terzo’s brows shoot up as he tucks his hands into his jacket pockets, giving a small shrug.

“Smurfette.”

“Smurfette?!” That has never been one of your guesses. 

“A term of endearment, puffetta.” He watches you flounder deliciously. “I’ll see you Monday morning.” Terzo winks and turns on heel, walking inside his quiet mansion and turning off the porch light to leave you in darkness. 

The nerve of him. The absolute gall to have you show up here only for him to dismiss you so quickly. You breathe heavy, realizing that your legs are wobbling from the way he had touched you. 

You want more.

[imagination-mess]

You could read this (Izuku) before this post for it to make sense since it's different timelines and are connected to each other post-wise.

Imagine the Pro Hero Dynamight at the Hero Expo signing, taking pictures, and talking to fans. He continually keeps seeing the same book repeatedly when fans are asking him to sign it for them. He attempted to find it at the plaza and discovered they had sold all the books out. There were a limited amount of books that were available early in the day. He will stay with curiosity. 

After the long weekend at the Expo, he was just dying to go home after the long weekend he had. He needs to not socialize for a week.

He was carrying duffle bags filled with gifts from his fans. He gets stopped by Kirishima who was delivering a gift from a fan who was too scared to give it to him which is a book with a dragon behind a blond man on the cover. The same one that he saw early among the fans.

When he finally gets home, he immediately drops the duffle bags and goes to freshen up before going to bed. It was exhausting to socialize with his fans. He loves his fans, but he needs his breaks between them. 

This is the only Hero Expo he would do because they are the only ones who would follow his accommodation. He hates being in tight, crowded places. They didn’t overbook him, unlike other places that he never went back to. They would put his section on one of the higher floors to have more room. The staff majority of the time are fans of him, but treated him professionally and showed respect for his boundaries. He gives them a picture and signature at the end of the day to show his appreciation to them. 

Due to him only doing it at this expo specifically, his VIP tickets would always be sold out within an hour after the tickets opened. The combo tickets get posted later that day after an announcement, to be sold out within less than an hour. 

It was the next day that he organized his fans' gifts and put them in a room filled with them. He takes some back to his office at his hero agency. 

When it was the end of the week, he was finally free from his duties as a hero. He took a seat in his recliner to give the book a try. The book has been mocking him for the past week.

If it doesn’t get his attention within 2 chapters, he is dropping it. That’s what he told himself, only to be glued to the book. 

Bakugou has a physical and verbal reaction while reading it, especially the betrayal and backstabbing section of the book. He was cursing the fictional character hell and back. He had to put the book down for a bit because he was getting heated. 

There was a coincidence that parallels his life, especially feeling guilty over something that was out of their control. The main character in the book, their mentor, loses their abilities in the process of bringing more time for the main character to escape for safety. The character blamed himself, but the mentor wanted him to live. It was like things like that. 

Within a few hours, he finished the book and just stared at the wall where there was a portrait of his friends at a bar. His mind just progressed what he read because, damn, it was a rollercoaster of emotions. 

He went online to see if there were other books from the same author. This book came from a fanfiction website and got published without the other's permission. The author's accounts were already deleted when he went and tried to look up their account. 

He could see the fans cursing each other because some fans were harassing the author on posting the books back online because they took it down for fear of getting sued. It was trending on social media. 

There is a bunch of fan art floating through the internet that was reposted by the deleted original author account who was an artist as well. They were a bunch of fan art that was reposted. There are a variety of alternative universes of himself throughout the fanart that he found himself scrolling through. The author drew portraits related to the stories they wrote. 

He may or may not have saved the Dragon King fanart from his phone to his home screen. Now he was left curious about the other books, if they were as good as The Dragon King. 

He may or may not have demanded Izuku to let him borrow the Demon Prince and The Mage when Bakugou saw them in the other Pro Heroes Office bookshelf.

Next Pro Hero Shoto

[ginnsbaker]

Bulletproof - Alternative Ending

Summary: Starts immediately after Chapter 5 where you unwittingly sacrificed yourself to keep Wanda alive.

Word count: 5k+ | Tags: Angst and character death(s) | Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Author's Note: This was suggested by @dogsandlife, and I'm super glad for it because I was already toying with this idea. I just couldn't bring myself to hurt most of you so I went ahead with the other plot. But for my angst-loving readers, I hope you enjoy this alternative ending :)

Series Masterlist

-

The compound is anything but quiet. 

One can hear hushed whispers, the shuffling of feet, and the distant drones of machines. It's not loud, but there's a heavy feeling in the air. Grief. Everyone's dealing with the recent destruction—surgeries, reports, nights where sleep just didn’t come. Death. 

Today's supposed to help them find some closure, but it's obvious a lot of them aren't there yet.

Steve stands at Wanda's door, fist raised. He hesitates, almost knocking a few times, but eventually just taps softly with his knuckle on the wooden panel. “Wanda?” he asks, trying to sound as normal as possible.

Nothing.

She hasn't been seen since the first night they arrived at the other base, where Wanda went straight to the room she was assigned to. The only clue that she's still managing is that Vision leaves food outside her door every day, and when he returns later in the day, most of it remains untouched, but he can tell Wanda has taken at least a bite or two. 

It’s far from the ideal diet of an Avenger, which leaves Wanda being indisposed in the meantime; though the rest of the team was successful in neutralizing and the people who masterminded the attack on the compound two weeks ago. 

Out of concern for how she might react, especially given how deeply your loss affected her, the team has kept this news from Wanda. They want to ensure the prisoners are safely relocated to a hard-to-track location before she learns of it. There's a shared apprehension that if Wanda discovers this prematurely, she might take matters into her own hands.

Steve senses that Wanda might already be aware, and her chilling silence may not just be due to grief. Part of it could stem from her resentment towards the team for withholding the information, preventing her from seeking the second thing she desires most after having you back—revenge.

(What Wanda yearns for the most is your return, but that's a reality no longer possible in this universe.)

Despite this, Steve pushes on, “The ceremony's about to start. Everyone's waiting. We don’t want to start without you. They were important to all of us, but I get that they were even more to you.”

The stillness from the other side of the door is almost suffocating.

Steve’s voice becomes impossibly softer as he tries again, “Wanda, I can't imagine how you feel right now. But we're here for you. We're family, remember?”

Steve strains his ears, hoping to catch the faintest whisper from Wanda, but the only sound that meets him is the steady hum of the central air conditioning. Time drags on awkwardly, and just when Steve is about to leave, a faint, broken voice emerges from the room. 

“They're gone, Steve.”

Swallowing hard, Steve nods, voice thick. “I know, Wanda. I know.”

He does know. Perhaps more than anyone on the team, save for Natasha. He's experienced profound losses throughout his life: his best friend, the woman he loved, even time and an entire era.

He wants to impart all of these to Wanda, but he’s afraid of invalidating the pain that Wanda’s feeling right now. 

And so, a brief, quiet moment passes between them before Steve rejoins the others.

-

The scene is chaos—the aftermath of unimaginable power unchecked.

Dust fills the air, and broken debris is scattered everywhere. The once-familiar corridors of the team's quarters are now unrecognizable. Everything is obliterated. The structure has been reduced to fine dust, making it impossible to discern that the remnants were once beds or lamps. Not even sound escaped her wrath.

The others soon rush in, Steve, Natasha, and Sam at the forefront. The sight that greets them is unlike anything they’ve ever seen before. Everything is utterly pulverized, and at the epicenter is Wanda, holding your limp body close to her.

For a moment, the scene before them leaves them at a loss for words, until Steve's gaze locks onto you, covered in blood with your arms hanging lifelessly. Steve radios the others, quickly outlining the situation. He struggles to describe it without revealing the full extent of Wanda’s powers, of which they were previously unaware.

Sam surveys the area for potential threats. “All clear!” he announces, not realizing the hidden danger masked by the visage of a mourning ally. Steve, however, spots it immediately from a distance.

The situation isn't volatile due to enemies nearby.

It's volatile because of Wanda.

“Wanda, what happened?” Natasha ventures, attempting to cut through the escalating tension. Yet Wanda's eyes stay locked on you, murmuring unintelligibly under her breath.

“Wanda!” Natasha's voice sharpens with alarm. “Snap out of it!”

But Wanda refuses to budge, ensnared in her own maelstrom of anguish and remorse. As her hands begin to glow with a familiar red hue, she whispers, her lips curling in a crazed half-smile, “I can save you.” 

Recognizing the imminent danger of Wanda's erratic powers, Natasha lunges forward to intervene. “Wanda, no!”

Her plea is met with an almost tangible wave of force. The sheer power from Wanda's emotions sends Natasha hurtling backwards, taking her off her feet. Recognizing both the immediate peril and a fleeting chance, Steve reacts without hesitation. He gathers you into his arms, holding you close to shield you, and makes a break for the Quinjet's safety.

Sam, after a momentary stagger, hurries over to Natasha's side. He extends a hand, helping her to rise. Together, they turn their attention back to Wanda, eyes fixed as they witness the raw display of her struggle, the internal battle to regain control over her formidable powers. Eventually, as if a storm subsides, Wanda's energy recedes. She collapses, emotionally and physically spent. Her eyes glisten with tears that soon spill over. 

“I—I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry…” Wanda stammers, bringing a hand to her mouth in horror at her actions.

Natasha cautiously approaches, ignoring the lingering pain from her fall. She carefully wraps an arm around Wanda, offering what comfort she can. “It’s okay,” she whispers, trying to sound more confident than she feels.

Sam surveys the scene, taking in the devastation and recognizing that not all of it was the enemy's handiwork. “We can't stay here,” he warns urgently. “We'll have company soon, and not the kind we want.”

Emerging from the Quinjet, Steve's motions for them to hurry. “Let’s go. Y/N needs help. Now.”

Natasha quickly takes in Wanda's dazed state and knows she needs to act. “Come on, we need to move,” she says, gently guiding her friend by the arm toward the jet.

As they get closer, Natasha throws a glance over her shoulder at Sam. “You coming?”

He hesitates, scanning the area. “I'm staying. Someone's got to help out here.”

She looks like she wants to argue, but with everything going on, she just nods, helping Wanda up the ramp. As the jet's engines ignite and they ascend, Sam's focus shifts back to the ground, the sheer magnitude of Wanda's episode hitting him. A distance away, he spots a few incinerated bodies, possibly caught in the sphere of Wanda’s wrath. Walking cautiously among the fallen, a chilling realization dawns on him: he can't tell who was with them and who was against. Allies and enemies, all indistinguishably mixed in the wake of Wanda's powers.

He feels a knot in his stomach. “Oh, Wanda,” he murmurs to himself, “what happened here?”

-

Though the clear skies suggest fair weather, the ceremony feels grim, leaving behind an eerie atmosphere that steadfastly clings to the hallways and corners you once roamed. All attendees are dressed in their finest black attire, but the pristine garments can't hide the profound sadness of the occasion.

Everyone is present except for a seat in the first row. Every now and then, Steve's eyes would drift toward the entrance, half-hoping, half-dreading that Wanda might walk in. The funeral begins with a brief sermon from a priest, despite no one being certain of your religious beliefs. Yet, it's protocol. It has always been the manner in which they bid farewell to a comrade, so everyone quietly follows suit.

Each of the Avengers, save for Wanda, takes a turn at the podium, sharing humorous and touching stories about you. They all wear the same regret and guilt on their faces, wishing they could have done more, could have treated you better, could have gotten to know you more. The eulogies are largely light in tone, and it's unclear whether it's because they wish to remember you fondly or if their bond with you was merely superficial and insincere.

Except for Daisy, the last person to speak, who seems to be taking it particularly hard. She gets choked up talking about how you took her under your wing, always sharing what you knew and helping her train. And when she needed a place to sleep, you gave her your own bed. She returns to her seat, tears silently streaming, and there's a brief, uneasy moment when no one steps in to comfort her.

They all glance around, seeking out Wanda. Their eyes eventually land on Steve, who simply responds with a solemn shake of his head. 

The entire ceremony lasts just under an hour. As the last notes of the eulogy fade and people start to head out, everyone gradually returns to their routine. For many, it's the last time they'll reflect or speak about you.

That same night, as Steve is about to wind down in his office, lost in thought, Vision phases through the wall. There's a resigned expression on Vision's face, momentarily making Steve forget that he isn't human. Reflecting later, Steve appreciates how Vision's virtue and outlook are more human-like than many individuals he's encountered throughout his life.

“Captain Rogers,” he starts, “Wanda has…chosen to sequester herself in Y/N's former cell.”

Steve looks up sharply, a crease forming on his brow. “Why would she do that?” 

He had anticipated something like this might occur, but he's baffled as to why Wanda would choose your old cell over your bedroom, where all your belongings still remain.

“I can't say I fully grasp the intricacies of the human heart, but maybe she's looking for a connection or a spot to grieve. Y/N’s room, with all its memories, might just be too overwhelming for her,” Vision offers, seemingly reading Steve's thoughts.

Hearing this, Steve glances at the approval document he must sign, allowing the compound's admin office to begin clearing out your bedroom. He's been putting off signing it, thinking Wanda might need more time with your belongings around. But now he wonders if erasing traces of you might help her come to terms with the loss.

Steve considers Vision’s words for a moment before nodding slowly. “Thanks, Vision. I'll go see her.”

-

Wanda is glued to your side, her fingers so tightly interwoven with yours that it's hard to tell where one hand ends and the other begins. Every now and then, she gently squeezes, perhaps hoping to feel a reassuring squeeze back. Her face is contorted, every line etched deep with raw pain, her eyes wet and reddened from endless tears. She looks at your hand, pale and devoid of its usual warmth, resting lifelessly in her grip.

But it's the faint, almost timid pulsation under her touch that keeps her from completely breaking down. Each breath you take is slow and labored, barely noticeable. But the quiet beep of the monitors serves as a constant reminder that there's still life within you. From time to time, she leans in, pressing her ear close to your chest, cherishing the gentle thud of your heartbeat, willing you to hold on just a little longer.

A while later, a group of nurses and doctors rush in, ready to prep you for surgery. Their hands move with purpose, reaching for various instruments and adjusting the array of machines beside your bed. That’s when, as if propelled by an invisible force, equipment flies off tables, and a few of the medical staff are pushed back against the walls. A nurse, caught off-guard, drops a syringe, its contents spilling onto the pristine floor. 

Natasha, having been alerted by the commotion, slips into the room, swiftly placing herself between Wanda and the medical staff.

“Wanda,” she implores cautiously, her eyes seeking the sorceress's, “let them do their job. He needs them.”

For a moment, it seems like she might snap, but then her gaze drops to the floor, tears spilling. As soon as they feel it’s safe, the medical staff decide that they need to move you immediately. The wheels of your bed squeak in protest as they begin to shift it out of the room.

Wanda's grip tightens on your hand, her knuckles white. She tries to follow, as if an invisible cord binds her to you. She mutters, almost inaudibly, “I won't leave them.”

One of the nurses, recognizing the precarious situation and the potential for Wanda's powers to erupt again, glances around hesitantly. They're all clearly apprehensive about telling Wanda she can't accompany you. It’s just in time that Steve finally arrives, quickly taking in the scene before him.

“Kid, it’s okay,” he murmurs quietly.

She turns to him, her eyes a storm of emotion, as she pleads, “No, it’s not. I need to be with them.”

“It’s not,” he confirms, offering her a sympathetic look. “But right now, they need to do their job. We have to trust them.”

But her grip on your hand doesn't loosen.

With a deep breath, Steve gently pries her fingers away from yours. It's a slow, agonizing process, each finger unlocking a fresh wave of sobs from Wanda. She resists, but Steve’s reassuring grip gives her no choice. Finally, as your hand slips away from hers, the reality of the situation hits anew.

As the medical team wheels you out of the room, Wanda collapses into Steve's arms, her cries a haunting sound in the tenebrous hallways of the hospital.

The long hours of surgery find Wanda staring into the void, her eyes wavering yet alert, even as exhaustion begins to bear down on her. A few feet away, a wall clock ticks on, displaying the agonizingly slow passage of time. She's acutely aware of each second, each minute, as they stretch into what feels like eons. Occasionally, her fingers would twitch, itching to do something, anything, to change the course of events. But they remain clenched in her lap, her knuckles white from the pressure.

Wanda isn't accustomed to the drawn-out dread of potentially losing someone. Her parents were taken away in an instant. Pietro saved Clint in a split-second, paying with his life. So, when the surgeon finally emerges, the expression on his face already giving away the news, Wanda can't stand it. She bolts.

Outside, the cold night air hits her, but she hardly feels it. Her feet carry her to a secluded spot in the hospital's garden, where the shadows from the trees envelope her. She sinks to the ground, her hands digging into the grass, seeking some form of grounding.

The rest of the team, still in the waiting room, exchange worried glances. Steve takes a step forward, as if to follow, but Natasha places a gentle hand on his arm.

“She needs a minute,” Natasha says quietly.

While they give Wanda time to process, the surgeon starts explaining the details, the clinical terms merging with the reality of what happened. The Avengers might face world-ending threats on a daily basis, but this personal loss, this kind of pain, hits different.

Little do they know that in the distance, Wanda's grief is causing ripples that are about to change everything.

-

Making his way through the maze of hallways, Steve's steps slow as he approaches the familiar penitentiary. He nears the familiar cell door, taking a moment to brace himself before nudging it open just slightly.

Inside, the room is dim, with just a small lamp fighting off the darkness. It's chilly, the sort of cold that seems to seep into your bones. There, on the simple bed, is Wanda, curled up and looking so small and vulnerable. Pushing the door open just a touch more, Steve walks in silently and sits beside Wanda. He doesn't say anything, instead he allows Wanda to acclimatize to his presence, to give her space and time to figure out that she’s not alone in this, never was.

After what seems like an eternity, Wanda, without looking at Steve, simply murmurs, “It's cold here.”

Steve just nods, at a loss for words. He takes off his jacket, trying to wrap it around her shoulders for comfort. But Wanda pushes it away, letting it drop to the ground. Steve clenches his jaw, recognizing that right now, reasoning with Wanda might be impossible.

Several beats pass before Wanda finally speaks up. “It should have been me,” she says, her voice as steely as the temperature of the room. “I should be the one in that grave.”

“Don't say that,” Steve insists, carefully placing a hand on her tense shoulder. “You couldn't have known.”

Wanda's eyes blaze with anger and sorrow. “I allowed it, Steve. I allowed Y/N to help me, to heal me. I let them drain their life to give to me.” Her voice wavers, and she trembles visibly. Steve can feel warmth where he's holding her but trusts that she won't lose control. “If Y/N hadn't found me, I'd be as good as dead. But now... they're gone, and I'm here.”

“Wanda, look at me,” he mutters, placing another hand on her other shoulder and twisting her gently so she can properly face him. His blue eyes seek out hers but she refuses to meet his gaze, eyes transfixed on the floor, lost and empty. “We make choices everyday. Choices that we think are for the best. You couldn't have predicted this outcome. None of us could.”

She angles her head, strands of hair partially covering her face, but one eye peeks through with a dangerous glint. “I let them step into danger, more than once. So try and tell me it's not on me.”

Steve, visibly unsettled, takes a ragged breath. “Wanda, I know it’s hard to understand now, to accept that what happened to Y/N is beyond your control. But we're all here for you, and if you need—”

“I don't want or need your help, Steve,” she retorts with an icy edge. “What I need is to be alone.”

Seeing the resolute, almost manic determination in her eyes, Steve hesitates before nodding slowly. “Alright,” he says.

“But remember this, Wanda,” Steve says, pausing at the threshold of the cell, a deep sadness in his eyes. “Y/N wouldn't want you to be alone, especially not like this.”

Wanda's lips twitch into a bitter smile. “What Y/N wanted doesn't matter now, does it? They're gone.”

Steve doesn't say anything else. He gives Wanda a long look, then walks out.

-

The pain is worse when she dreams.

In one of them, she relives a reality from before. She's transported back to a familiar morning. She remembers waking up in your room, the warmth of the sheets reminding her of the night before. Trying to push away her burgeoning feelings for you, she recalls inviting a stranger into her room, sharing some wine. But as he got closer, she pushed him away, realizing he wasn't what she truly wanted.

In her dream, she does things differently. Instead of slipping away like she did in reality, she lingers. She takes the time to study every detail of your face as you sleep—the freckles on your nose, the subtle movement of your lips as you mumble incoherent dreams, the occasional twitch of your eyelids. She gives in to an urge she had suppressed for the longest time, wrapping her arms around your waist, drawing you close. 

After what feels like hours, you stir. When you open your eyes, there's a brief moment of surprise before your lips curve into a soft, genuine smile, happy to see she's still there. Your fingers reach up, gently caressing her cheek. She leans into it, eyes closing for a moment as she takes in the sensation. “You stayed,” you murmur, your voice soft and filled with wonder.

Just as she's on the verge of promising to always stay by your side, Wanda jolts awake. Her smile fades the instant she grasps that it was all an illusion, a fleeting could-have-been.

The knife in her chest buries itself a little deeper after that. It does so again the following morning when she dreams of another memory, and in every version, she doesn't turn away from you.

- 

One day, a woman approaches Wanda, offering to help her uncover the secret to inhabiting her dreams.

“Not merely dreams,” the woman clarifies, “but alternate realities.” Her name is Agatha, and she persuades Wanda that these realities are rightfully hers, waiting for her to claim them. Desperate for a way to be with you again, even if it's in another reality, Wanda listens intently.

“Each reality is like a page in a book. Some might be nearly identical to yours, with just a slight deviation. Others could be drastically different. The key is knowing how to navigate and control them,” Agatha explains.

"How?" Wanda questions, hands buried in the pockets of her jacket, walking alongside Agatha on a nondescript street in Westview, New Jersey. She'd made her way there upon discovering you'd purchased property, curious to envision the life you'd planned for yourself, had you lived.

“It's not as simple as snapping one's fingers,” Agatha says. “But with the right guidance and knowledge, you can access these realities, live in them, even mold them to your desires.”

Wanda hesitates, sensing the potential dangers of meddling with the fabric of existence. “What's the price?” she asks. 

Agatha doesn't look too pleased with Wanda's display of intelligence and her knack for spotting the early signs of manipulation. But she gets the feeling that Wanda might not care if she's being used, as long as she gets what she wants out of it.

“Every powerful spell comes with its costs,” Agatha replies cryptically. “But isn't a chance to be with Y/N, to have a life where grief doesn't consume you, worth any price?”

Living day to day, clutching onto moments of happiness in her dreams, only to be jerked back into a reality she can't stand—it's wearing on Wanda. The dreams are great, sure, but they're just that—dreams. And when they're over, it's back to the harsh light of day, and the reality that you’re gone. She's stuck in this loop, bouncing between what she wishes her life could be and the real world that just won't let her catch a break. Every dream feels like a tease, a brief escape before she's pulled back into the grind.

“So? I don’t have all day, dear.” Agatha's tone is dripping with impatience, her sharp eyes fixed on Wanda.

Wanda swallows hard, her gaze darting around the empty street, as if cautious to anyone who might be eavesdropping on the conversation, before settling back on the older witch. “What do you want in return?”

A slow, sly smile spreads across Agatha's face, making the air around her grow even colder. She takes a deliberate step closer to Wanda, their faces now mere inches apart. “You’re a sly witch than I made you out to be, aren’t you?”

Wanda holds her ground. “I need to know.”

Agatha chuckles softly, her breath caressing Wanda's face. “We'll get to that,” she purrs, drawing the moment out just to relish Wanda's discomfort. She then leans in even closer, her voice dropping to a hushed, almost seductive whisper. “First, let's talk about how we can make your dreams come true.”

Wanda hesitates, torn between the desperation of her desires and the voice in her head urging her to decline the offer, to grieve and move forward like anyone else would.

To forget you.

“And why would I trust you?” Wanda counters instead, buying herself more time.

Agatha straightens up, her smile unwavering as she finally takes a step back. “Oh, darling, you shouldn’t. But sometimes, our wants make strange bedfellows. And right now, I'm the best chance you've got.”

-

Wanda's footsteps are hesitant as she approaches the rubble-strewn site, each broken brick and twisted piece of metal echoing memories of that fateful day. The boundaries between realities have always been thin for Wanda, a mere whisper away. And on the 436th day since your sacrifice, she finally musters the courage to cross them.

Witnessing it all from this vantage point—that of an observer—feels utterly surreal.

She remembers the pain, the slow dimming of consciousness, and the sensation of life slipping away. But in this reality, it was her other self who had been impaled, left to bleed out beneath the rubble. And you, who she loved dearly in every universe, had been spared.

Or at least, that’s how she intends it to happen for this reality.

Wanda's fingers twitch, and with a fierce concentration of her magic, she lifts the heavy boulder trapping her other self. A bright crimson glow surrounds it as it's lifted and tossed aside, revealing the horrific sight beneath.

The other Wanda is a haunting reflection of what she might have been, pale with trails of blood smeared across her lips. The fabric of her clothes is stained with the vivid red of her own blood, which pools around her. It's a sight that should send a wave of nausea through Wanda, but truthfully she feels nothing.

Gently, Wanda cradles the injured version of herself, her hands shaking as they brush away the dirt and blood from the other's face. She can't stop herself from checking for a pulse, even though ironically, she’s there to make sure it stops beating.

“Hey,” she murmurs, patting the alternate Wanda's cheek softly, urging her to focus. “Look at me.”

Slowly, those familiar eyes flutter open, clouded with pain. The shock and fear in them are palpable when they take in the sight of her savior—especially the distinct headpiece that marked her transformation into the Scarlet Witch.

“Who... are you?”

“I'm you,” Wanda says, and without waiting for a reply, sparing her other self the pain of speaking, she continues, “Y/N sacrificed so much for you. For us. They became our greatest pain, and our love. And they will be here any minute now.”

“W-What are you talking about—”

“They will be here to save you and make themselves vulnerable in the process. And they will die,” Wanda's breath hitches at that, causing her to pause momentarily. “You don’t want that, do you?”

Her fading counterpart shakes her head, tears streaming down her face.

“Good,” Wanda says, offering a comforting smile. “Then let go, and I’ll take care of Y/N. Okay?”

Without waiting for a response, Wanda turns the body in her embrace into red wisps that dance around her in the air. 

Then, aware that it'll only be moments before you reach the scene, Wanda morphs into the likeness of her younger self. She looks just like the other version, but without any injuries that might spur you into action.

“Wanda!” she hears your voice from a distance and her eyes water at the sound.

She's done the unimaginable, claiming the identity of this universe's Wanda, seconds after she erased her very existence. She takes deep, shaky breaths, trying to get into character. She needs you to believe it’s her, even though she’s forgotten herself how she used to be.

Your steps quicken, shoes crunching on rubble, until you're right in front of her, surveying her from head to toe, searching for any signs of injury. “Wanda...how?” Your eyes are wide, filled with disbelief and relief. “I thought I'd lost you.”

“I managed to shield myself just in time when—” She doesn’t get to finish her practiced response when you pull her into a tight embrace, and she leans into it, her body shaking with genuine sobs. Her face buries into the crook of your neck, feeling the warmth and familiarity of your smell and touch. It's a grounding sensation amidst the madness she has just endured and inflicted.

“It's okay,” you murmur, your voice trembling. “You're here now, and that's all that matters.” You can feel the dampness on your shirt where her tears have soaked through, and you tighten your grip around her.

“We need to get out of here,” you say, casting a glance around the ruins. “Let's find safety first, then we'll figure everything out.”

She nods, taking a deep breath to steady herself, wiping away her tears. “I'm sorry,” Wanda says, her voice catching in her throat.

“For what?” you ask, confused.

“For making you worry,” she says, avoiding your eyes. The guilt she feels is so much deeper than what you perceive, but now isn’t the time to delve into it. 

She only recalls the next moments when the bullets are headed your way minutes later. But this time, they don't touch you. Wanda swiftly neutralizes the assailants, and you stare, a mix of shock and awe at the display of her powers that appear to have been amplified overnight.

You blink, trying to process what you just saw. “Wanda, what was that? I've never seen you...”

“We need to move. Now,” Wanda interrupts, a hint of panic in her voice. She grabs your hand, tugging you forward roughly.

You resist for a moment, glancing around. "Don't we need to wait for the others?"

She glances back at the devastation she caused, her face drawn. "There’s no time. They're not coming.”

“But—”

“Please," she pleads, her eyes darting to the oncoming imaginary threats in the distance. “We'll figure it out once we're safe.”

It’s your weakness, your inability to say no to her, that makes you yield to her wishes. With one last uneasy look around, you let Wanda pull you away, but a slew of questions bubble up in your mind, waiting for a safer moment to be asked.

Wanda leads you somewhere faraway. 

In time, you cease to question her actions.

Gradually, the dreams stop haunting her nights.

But she finds herself unable to stop hunting for them every now and then.

[webslinger-holland]

The Sergeant's Senator | Chapter 7

Summary: The day of the vote has finally arrived. As the senator prepares her departure to the senate, the assassin makes one final attempt which ends up causing more destruction than anticipated.

Warning: language, suggestive sexual content, assassination attempt, weapons used (guns and bombs), sniper/shooter/assassin mentioned, characters getting shot at, blood lose and major bodily injuries, slight language, somebody dying

Pairing: Hunter x Fem!Reader Senator

Type: Short Series

Word Count: 4.4k words

Series Masterlist

An agreement had been reached the following morning. Despite their growing feelings for one another, the sergeant and senator came to realize that they could never truly be together. Should it come out that they were a thing, they'd both be demoted from their positions and the sergeant would be decommissioned. Therefore, they decided the sever the connection altogether. And it was the most painful thing either of them had to do.

For whatever time they had left working together, they created boundaries with one another to prevent feelings from developing any further. The distance between the two was bound to cause a deeper longing to reunite. But they knew this couldn't happen and their time was running out.

In the morning, Senator Rayna made the decision to fill out the application form for a new escort. Signing her name had never been so difficult in her life and sending the form off to the guard only caused tears to well in the corners of her eyes.

There was no point in putting it off, especially since Echo knew about it and it would have only been a matter of time before the others found out. As the leader of the group, Hunter ended up breaking the news to them when they arrived that day. He explained that the senator sent in the paperwork and that they should be receiving new orders any day now.

The Bad Batch took the news with mixed emotions. While they missed being in action on the field, there was something simple about protecting a senator in a busy city. It seemed like Crosshair was the only one who was the most pleased with the news, muttering a "finally" under his breath.

The Senator of Coruscant had been standing near the back of the room, listening to the entire conversation with her head hanging low. Her heart never ached so badly then it did in that moment. She tried keeping the tears back.

The memories of their night spend together weighed heavy on her mind, wishing more than ever that she'd be able to have that again with him. Though it was highly unlikely.

After breaking the news, Hunter's eyes drifted up to gaze at the senator from across the room. Only Y/n was quick to look away in order to avoid any more unnecessary pain. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to her, to touch her arm and reassure her that everything was going to be alright even if they weren't there. But he just couldn't do it.

What drew Hunter out of his thoughts was when Echo went up to approach him. He saw the conflict behind his eyes and in his demeanor. He brought a reassuring hand to his shoulder.

"That couldn't have been an easy conversation for you two," Echo noted with a sense of concern in his voice.

"No," Hunter hung his head low. He pushed the pain in his heart away. "It wasn't."

"You really did care about her, didn't you?" Echo wondered. He tilted his head to the side slightly.

"Still do," Hunter acknowledged painfully with a shrug of the shoulders. "Just...can't do anything about it now."

With some hesitation, Echo nodded his head as if to say he understood where he was coming from. He gave his shoulder a couple pats, reassuring him that he'd get over this eventually. But Hunter wondered if he truly could.

Near the back of the room, Crosshair managed to sneak his way over to stand right beside the senator. He leaned back against the wall and cross his arms over his chest. His eyes briefly glanced up at Hunter from across the room, curious to what Echo was talking to him about. He struck up his own conversation.

"He looks miserable," Crosshair grunted. He pulled a single toothpick out of his box, popping it into his mouth to naw on. "Makes you wonder what kinds of things were said between you two yesterday."

"It was a private conversation," Y/n said sourly. She wore an evident frown on her face. "What was said is meant to stay private."

"It doesn't matter anyways," Crosshair shrugged off. "Because we'll be shipped off soon. And everything will go back to normal like how it always should have been."

His words sounded like they were laced with fire. The senator turned her body to face him, staring up at him with a slight look of shock on her face.

"You've never liked me," Senator Rayna pointed out. "From the moment you got here, I could only see the contempt behind your eyes."

"I don't just dislike you," Crosshair pushed off the wall to face her. He leaned down to be eye level and pushed himself forward slightly. With narrowed eyes, Crosshair spat out how he truly felt: "I despise you."

Upon hearing those words, Senator Rayna's face only dropped. A massive wave of newfound hurt sought to drown her and consumed her entire body. She felt the tears gathering in her eyes, which she tried to hide because she knew it would only bring him satisfaction.

"W-What have I ever d-done to you?" Y/n said through her tears.

"It's not what you did to me. It's what you did to him," Crosshair acknowledged. He tipped his head to gesture to his oldest brother from across the room. She turned her head to look towards the sergeant. "You made him weak and soft," Crosshair scowled.

The sniper took a step towards her, which only caused her to stumble over her own feet as she put distance between them. He towered over her to intimidate her. She hated to admit that it was working.

"If anything happens to you, I wouldn't give a damn because that would mean we'd finally be rid of you. Leaving this place will be the best thing to happen for this squad," Crosshair spat down at her.

"Crosshair," Hunter's voice called from across the room.

Neither of them turned their heads to address him, but they knew he was looking directly at them.

"That's enough," Hunter scolded.

For a brief moment, Crosshair and Y/n had forgotten about Hunter's enhanced senses, particularly his hearing. Their entire exchange hadn't gone unheard. He heard every word of hatred that came from his brother and he resented him for it.

Because the senator didn't deserve to be treated that way and if his brother had a problem with how he was acting, then he should have confronted him instead.

"We should get going. I don't want the senator to miss the vote," Hunter announced.

The senator didn't care about the speech she had given a week prior, the vote that was about to happen, or even the results that she worked so hard for. Her mind had been completely captivated by her sergeant that she couldn't have.

Without wanting to cause any further arguments, the Bad Batch proceeded to follow the senator out of her office. They followed directly behind her and would escort her to the vote. However, Crosshair and Hunter lingered behind for a brief moment until the room was completely empty.

In that moment, Hunter sent his brother a glaring look of disapproval and complete anger. His hands had subconsciously clenched into tight fists at his sides. He looked away and started heading towards the door of the office, but right as he met the threshold, Crosshair finally broke the silence.

"You fucked her, didn't you?" Crosshair's tone didn't seem to waver.

Upon hearing those words, Hunter stopped short in his steps. His shoulders began to tense up and his hands remained clenched. It was getting harder to him to not blow up. He didn't say anything at first.

His silence was enough of an answer.

"That's why this has been so hard for you. You got attached," Crosshair pointed out.

Slowly, Crosshair went to approach his the doorway in which his brother stood. He let out a small scoff, quickly glancing him up and down.

"Didn't think you had it in you. Hope you left her feeling satisfied," Crosshair spoke with venom in his tone. He threw another toothpick into his mouth before wordlessly making his exit. The sergeant was left alone in the room, but the weight of his guilt was ever present.

The hired hitman felt a single bead of sweat sliding down the side of his face as he hid behind one of the pillars in the sniper's nest. He clutched a small device in his hands, hanging his thumb over a solid red button. He waited for the perfect moment.

Unbeknownst to the Bad Batch, there were three hidden bombs scattered around the landing platform that they just walked out on. One of the bombs was hidden right underneath the airspeeder and had been activated a couple minutes ago. Any electronic frequencies from the bomb would remain hidden since it was attached to a vehicle that also emitted frequencies. The other two bombs were yet to be activated.

The sniper was careful to peer around the pillar; his gaze fell on the small group walking across the platform and heading directly towards the airspeeder. He pressed the single red button which activated the countdown from one of the other bombs.

In that exact moment, Hunter froze in his place. He held up his hand to stop the rest of the group. His eyes seemed to narrow in slight confusion as his hearing focused on the little faint beeping sound coming from the opposite side of the platform. He looked over his shoulder, settling his sights on the entrance of the building they just came from. He felt the frequencies radiating heavily from one specific area.

"What is it, Hunter?" Echo inquired.

"There is a bomb nearby," Hunter whispered under his breath.

"A bomb?" Wrecker repeated just a little too loud. He quickly looked around as if he magically spot it. He raised his own blaster a little higher. "Where is it? I'll take it out."

"Not your brightest plan," Crosshair said while rolling his eyes.

"We must calculate our steps," Tech pointed out. "Any certain movement could trigger it."

"Wait for my signal," Hunter order. He began to make his way through the group, heading back towards the center of the platform.

"Hunter," Y/n called after him. "I don't like this."

"Don't worry," Hunter reassured her with a small smile. "If anything happens, Tech will stay to protect you."

"Alright," Y/n agreed. "Just be careful."

With some hesitation, Hunter started walking back towards the entrance of the building. He had retrieved his own blaster from his holster and now held it up. He peered through the scope in hopes of spotting something. He waved his hand to signal the other members to follow him.

Now Wrecker, Echo, and Crosshair began moving towards the center of the platform with their own weapons raised. They scouted the peaks in the tower, searching for any sign of the sniper. Back near the airspeeder, Tech made sure to stand relatively close to the senator in case anything happened. He held his blaster in front of him.

Kneeling down, Hunter spotted the small beeping device that was tucked behind one of the pillars. He felt a tight knot forming in his stomach at the mere sight of an active bomb in front of him. He quickly called for Wrecker to disarm it.

Slowly, Hunter forced himself to rise to his feet so that Wrecker was able to get into position. He spun around on the heels of his feet in order to face the senator. He gave a single wave of the hand as if to say they had the situation handled.

Suddenly, Hunter could feel his heart dropping so fast in the pit of his stomach as his eyes landed on the same beeping device hidden underneath the speeder. He broke into a run, urging them to get down. But it was much too late for that.

The device had detonated, which sparked an explosion of destructive fire that consumed everything. There was a loud and echoing boom that caused ears to start ringing in pain. The shockwave that came from the explosion only pushed the others back to the ground. The bright red, yellow, and orange flames only grew as more fuel was added from the airspeeder. Cracks had begun to form on the platform and black smoke surrounded them.

Just as the device had detonated, Hunter had lost sight of the two people standing in front of the speeder. Their bodies disappearing in the midst of flame and smoke. Before he knew it, Hunter was lying on the ground having been thrown back from the blast. He rolled onto his side.

The sergeant groaned in slight pain. He held his arm up to shield his visor from the blinding flames. He did manage to find his footing as he stood on two shaky feet. He quickly turned around to find his other brothers behind him which brought a wave of relief over him. But that also didn't last long because the other two bombs detonated a second later.

The Bad Batch was knocked down from the force of the blast and debris falling around them. The pillars from the building caved from the destructive explosion, crumbling down and striking the platform with such force that it made deeper cracks. More clouds of black smoke swept around their bodies and the ash began fluttering through the air. The world disappeared underneath the veil of darkness, claiming the conscious mind of the sergeant.

The dust had failed to settle anytime soon. With the fire still burning steadily, a thick aroma of black smoke consumed the area. The platform could be heard groaning in pain because the supports holding it up had been compromised. It was only a matter of time before parts of the platform began to give way.

On the sidelines, Tech had to take a moment to gather himself. He had only just come to a second ago. Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, Tech tried to ignore the painful ache that consumed his entire body. His armor had done its job of protecting him from the explosion, but it had still grown hot to the touch from the flames.

Rolling onto his back, Tech's eyes drifted to the bright blue sky above him. He pushed himself into a sitting position, finally turning to address some of his surroundings. There was a small explosion on his left, which caused him to wince roughly and cower behind his arm.

"D-Does anyone copy?" Tech spoke into his communication system, silently praying that someone would hear his message. "I-I r-repeat: does anyone copy?"

The line remained silent much to his dismay.

Forcing himself to stand, Tech tried to use his helmet to scan the area in search for any remaining lifeforms. His visor illuminated the form of a red body underneath some heavy debris not too far away from him. He quickly made his way over to the body, mindfully avoiding the cracks below him.

Upon closer inspection, Tech had recognized the figure belonging to that of the senator. He knelt down beside her unconscious form, desperately searching for a way to lift the heavy debris off her body. Though Tech didn't ignore the fact that the side of her head was dripping with blood, having sustained a traumatic head injury. Right now, Tech just needed to get her out of there.

"If anyone can hear me, the senator is down. I repeat: the senator is down." Tech announced through the communication line though it came through super spotty to the others. As the other squad members came to their senses, the words 'senator' and 'down' were coming through their helmets.

Despite his efforts, Tech was unable to lift the cement debris by himself. He tried a couple times; He pulled and pushed with all of his might to move the huge chuck of pillar, but he wasn't the muscle of the group.

All of the sudden, Tech was able to hear a familiar groaning coming from the cloud of smoke beside him. The familiar figure of the biggest group member appeared to pierce through the smoke. He slowly trudged towards his brother while holding his arm and limping slightly.

"Wrecker!" Tech exclaimed. "I've never been more happy to see you."

"Yeah," Wrecker groaned in slight pain as he approached his brother. "Good to see you too, Tech."

The platform shook slightly under the added weight to that specific area. In response, Tech's eyes fell onto a large crack developing on the ground near them. He realized that the platform was beginning to fall away. He looked up at his brother with wide eyes.

"Watch your step," Tech ordered strategically. "This place could give away at any second."

With a firm nod, Wrecker made sure to watch his steps carefully and maneuvered his way over to them both. He quickly found a sturdy place to stand. He bent his knees and took hold of the debris.

"I'll lift. You pull her out," Wrecker explained. He counted down from three before lifting the heavy piece of cement upwards a couple inches. It was just enough space for his brother to pull the senator out.

Once the senator was secure, Wrecker slowly lowered the pillar back down onto the platform while being careful not to destroy the ground. He knelt down beside them just as Tech began scanning the senator with his data pad.

"How bad is she?" Wrecker inquired with a sad look in his eyes.

"Bad," Tech said blatantly. He typed something into his data pad. "She is suffering from severe internal bleeding and will likely succumb to her injuries if she does not receive immediate medical attention soon."

"We need to get to the Marauder," Wrecker realized.

In another part of the platform, Echo felt like he was reliving what he gone through years ago. The familiar aches and pains were almost too much for his body since he had been close to the explosion. He struggled to compose himself, standing to his feet slowly and shakily. He let out a low groan.

In a brief moment of panic, Echo turned his head to the left and to the right in a desperate attempt of locating the others. He called their names a few times, but failed to receive a response from them. He brought his hand up the the ventilator of his helmet, coughing slightly as he ingested smoke that failed to filter.

"I-If anyone..." Tech's voice cracked through the comms. Echo quickly pressed his finger against the side of his helmet to hear the message more clearly. "Sen-n--nator--d-do-own. M-M-Mauad--now," Tech called.

The only thing going through Echo's mind was how he needed to get to the Marauder. He quickly broke off into a sprint back towards the building with every intention of retrieving the ship from one of the other platforms. He shielded himself from the burning flames and rising smoke, risking it all for the mission.

"I'm o-on...my...way," Echo's voice spoke through the weak communication line.

Upon hearing the broken message, Tech and Wrecker breathed a small sigh of relief. They could rest easy for a moment knowing that help was on it's way and that another one of their brothers was alive. They glanced at each other before redirecting their attention back to helping the senator.

"Senator?" Tech spoke softly while gazing down at her. "Can you hear me? We need you to wake up."

But she hadn't moved.

All the while, Wrecker watched his brother's hands work quickly and skillfully. He had a handful of gauzes and serums from his pack. Pulling out his data pad again, Tech pressed a button which imitated a blue scan over her entire body. He didn't like the look of what showed up on the screen.

"Brain activity is dangerously low," Tech commented more to himself than anyone.

"W-What does that mean?" Wrecker worried.

"She's dying, Wrecker." Tech replied.

Without hesitation, Tech removed his helmet and tossed it to the side. He proceeded to take off his gloves next. His gaze shuffled down to the large gaping wound on the side of the senator's abdomen. The blood was seeping out of her body at a rapid pace. And Tech didn't know if he could slow it down.

"Wrecker," Tech called. He pointed to the leaking wound on her side. "I need you to apply pressure right here. Don't let up. It will slow the bleeding."

Carefully, Wrecker's large hands hovered over the spot. It took him a second before he finally gave into the internal conflict. He pressed his hands into the fresh wound in hopes of stopping the blood from flowing so quickly. He tried to ignore the way the blood seeped over his fingers. And he had to look away in fear of losing his stomach to the sight of gore.

In the midst of chaos, Hunter was slow to come back to his senses. His body was screaming in pain from the mere force of the blast. He shifted his hands underneath himself, pushing his upper body upwards slightly. His muscles shook as he did so; a small groan escaping past his filtered helmet.

With some difficulty, Hunter was able to get to his feet. He desperately searched for the others, but he couldn't see anything beyond the smoke and debris surrounding him. His senses failed him as well because he couldn't seem to pick up their all-too familiar smell. He called for them over the comms, but it seemed like his helmet was busted.

All of the sudden, a blaster shot came out of nowhere and lodged itself in the back of his right shoulder. The proximity of the shot caused him to stumble forward onto his knees. He grabbed his shoulder in pain, hissing at the sharp pain. He just barely managed to glance over his shoulder to spot the assailant walking through the black clouds of smoke with a blaster raised in his hand.

"I must admit: it hasn't been easy trying to take my target down. You're one hell of a soldier," the mysterious assassin spoke with a deep cynical voice behind his mask. He took a couple more steps forward until he was standing right above the clone.

"What do you want...a medal?" Hunter groaned in slight agony. He gripped his shoulder a little tighter in hopes that it would relieve some of the pain.

"Oh, I don't care about you." He knelt down in front of him, pointing the blaster directly at his face. "I only care about killing the senator and getting paid. I'm looking forward to cashing those credits in."

The assailant was taunting him. The anger and rage began to boil within the sergeant's veins, threatening to break loose at any moment. He held a stoic face, but was biting his tongue until he tasted his own blood. He wanted nothing more than to punch that stupid helmet off the guy's face.

All of the sudden, another random blaster bolt had whizzed through the air. The blaster shot smacked into the center of the assassins chest, sending him flying backwards until he was laying flat against the platform. The sergeant scrambled into a sitting position, shifting to glance over his shoulder. His eyes landed on the familiar sharpshoot pointing his rifle at the body.

For a brief moment, Hunter had never been more relieved to see his brother despite the risk he had taken in shooting the assassin down. He tried to rise to his feet while still holding onto his shoulder. However, Crosshair had joined his side and grabbed his arm. He helped him rise to his feet, double checking to make sure his oldest brother was alright.

"T-Thanks," Hunter said. He looked at his youngest brother with a small hint of pride in his eyes.

"Don't mention it," Crosshair scolded him with a serious look behind his eyes. "I mean it."

Together, Hunter and Crosshair made their way over to the suffering body of the assailant that was still laying on the ground. As they drew closer, Hunter was the first to step forward and kneel down in front of him. He pressed the bottom on the side of mysterious man's helmet, activating the trigger to retract the facemark.

What they both saw was shocking. It was a clone.

However, he wasn't wearing the typical clone armor; this style was coated in black and the mask had dark green eyes. They weren't even sure what generation of clone he would have been. His tactics were far from a regular clone. But he wore the face that millions of clones shared. This was something else, something new.

"This...complicates things," Hunter noted. He furrowed his eyebrows in slight confusion. They stood tall above him. "You're just a reg. Why are you trying to kill the senator?"

The clone assassin only let out a crazed laugh, which caused a few steams of blood to escape the corners of his mouth. His body was starting to succumb to his injuries, growing weaker with each passing moment. He looked up at the two enhanced clones, shaking his head slightly.

"L-Like I said, I was just doing a job to get paid."

"Who hired you?" Hunter demanded an answer.

"I'll never tell you," the assassin hissed. "You'll have to shoot me de--"

But the man was never able to finish that sentence because the sharpshooter had shot him once more to silence him forever. He silently strapped his rifle onto his back, turning to walk away and ignoring the look his brother was sending him.

At the given moment, Hunter was overwhelmed with a million different emotions. He wore a shocked expression on his face, not believing what his brother just pulled off. Not only that, but he was also incredibly taken back by the fact that he shot a clone without hesitation. He watched his figure retreat, but he called after him.

"What the hell were you thinking? Shooting a brother like that," Hunter gestured to the motionless body behind him.

"He's not a brother," Crosshair shrugged his shoulders. "He's just another reg. They're disposable."

"We didn't know anything about this clone. What his motives were, where he came from, or why he was trying to kill the senator," Hunter listed off. "He deserved to stand a fair trial," Hunter argued.

Upon hearing this, Crosshair stopped in the middle of his tracks. He threw a brief glance over his shoulder with a taunting smirk gracing his lips. He huffed.

"Starting to sound like your little girlfriend," Crosshair mocked.

"That's enough, Crosshair. You shouldn't have done what you did. You crossed a line," Hunter said through gritted teeth. His hands began to clench at his sides.

"You know...you should be thanking me," Crosshair replied. He was now turned to face his brother head on. "The threat is gone. Your girlfriend is safe. And we can finally leave this place. We completed the mission."

"You killed a clone," Hunter ignored him.

"I completed the mission," Crosshair corrected. The two brothers stared at each other with dangerously narrowed eyes, waiting for the other one to break first. But a familiar voice pulled them out of their internal war.

"H-Hunter...H--Hunter," Echo's voice broke through the communication system. "Come in. D-Do you read me?"

"I hear you, Echo." Hunter spoke while pressing the side of his helmet.

"I-I'm bringing the Marauder around now," Echo explained. The line was starting to get a little clearer and crispy as he spoke. "Tech says we need to get the senator out of here as soon as possible. She doesn't have a lot of time."

"Copy that," Hunter nodded. "We are on our way."

The ship was able to round the side of the building. The wind blasting from the engines was enough to push the clouds of black smoke away from the platform momentarily, providing a clear direction for where the others were on the opposite side. The ship was descending until it hovered right by the edge of the platform.

With great precision, Crosshair and Hunter began to make their way towards the group of others. They avoided the cracks in the ground, coming up beside their fellow brothers. The sergeant took a moment to stare down at the senator's motionless body, surveying her injuries carefully.

Though Tech was still working on bandaging up some of her wounds, Wrecker was still keeping his hands pressed against the gaping hole on her side. He made sure to avoid his sergeant's gaze, feeling a bit helpless in their failed attempt to protect her from harm. The sharpshooter was the only one brave enough to look directly at the sergeant with an all-knowing look in his eyes.

It was like Crosshair was saying it all over again to Hunter. Don't get too attached. Because this is what he'll get.

CHAPTER EIGHT HERE

Taglist:

@justhavingsomefun1 @totally-not-your-babe @jedipoodoo @gyllord @roam-rs @totallyunidentified @redheadgirl @mrcaptainrex @whore-of-many-hot-men @graciexmarvel @qweenrogerina @arcsimper5 @queenofspades6 @cadihyo @jediknightjana @elthoughtzos @lokigirlszendaya @sleepycreativewriter @moonwrecked @ravenclawbitch426 @waytoooldforthis78 @left-in-the-motel-bar @fic-force-99 @ayyyy-le-simp

THE SERIES IS ALMOST OVER! HOPE YOU'VE ENJOYED IT SO FAR.

[sassylegshayne]

simp notes

this is a bonus chapter for 'support your local caffeine dealer'

okay that being said AHHHHH!!!!! I've had this written for so long and ik chapter three of mmi is taking a bit so I wanted to post this now!! I love it, it's a peak into their relationship past the fic w lots of introspection from shayne, it's adorable! 2.8 words! enjoy xx mwah 💓

series masterlist

Shayne woke up much earlier than he planned to, so he found himself sat in silence at your shared dining table, staring at his mug of coffee. He unintentionally mirrored your actions in the exact moment that brought him to this point today.

The start of your relationship was a bit rocky, filled with pining and misunderstandings, but Shayne wouldn't change a thing about it.

Four and a half years, one shared apartment, and two cats later, everything felt right. Not perfect yet, but close. Your lives meshed together perfectly in every little way he never imagined it would.

You had similar food tastes, but neither of you liked the other person's favorite snacks or cereals, so no arguments about stealing. You like opposing chores, making it easily to share the weight. You showered at night, him in the morning. You liked the same books, so you shared your libraries now.

You'd been promoted recently, the position allowing a bit more flexibility with your schedule; so you and Shayne often woke up together in the morning and arrived around the same time at night.

The welcome addition of you to his friend group even meant that making plans was extremely easy. Shayne was also immensely thankful to have you with him at pretty much ever group outting.

He felt like you two knew every small thing about each other, so the secret he was keeping weighed heavy. For three months and twelve days he has been keeping the biggest secret from you, and everyone else.

The small velvet box sat in the bottom drawer of your dresser, stuffed between a pair of jeans that were actually too short for Shayne and a pair of Halloween themed sweatpants that matched a pair of your own. He could find it blindfolded at this point with how often he took it from it's spot, almost four times a day, contemplating when it would be the right time. It didn't feel right until earlier in the morning.

Just at 7:39AM, Shayne shot out of his sleep, his heart fluttering as he glanced over his shoulder, finding you softly snoring. His alarm hadn't gone off yet, the two of you didn't need to be up until around ten.

You had the day off and Shayne only had one shoot on his schedule, one you were going to be apart of.

You had been in a couple of shoots in the few years since your relationship had been known to the internet. Some fans had recognized you from the crew and casts personal accounts, especially Kimmy and Damien's.

You were very well received in your first appearance at Shayne's graduation, your speech bringing him and most of your friends to tears. After that you had been brought into an 'Eat It Or Yeet It" video, getting your first chance to witness your boyfriend's grave mouth first hand. After all of the love for you came in, you appeared on a Board AF' episode and began making memes for 'Who Meme'd It?'

You kept your privacy and boundaries still, your social medias were all still set to private, making it clear that you'd appear on occasions, but wouldn't join.

Shayne was fully supportive when you told him this after he mentioned the idea of you coming in for a video. You loved your job, having moved up into management of the shop, the promotion coming as a huge surprise to you, but not to Shayne.

Today you and Shayne were do on set at 2PM, shooting another TNTL episode, as per request of the other's lined up in the shoot. Damien and Courtney were quick to shoot Kimmy the idea, which wasn't hard to greenlight when the producer was your best friend. The easy part was over, convincing you was much more difficult. It tooka lot of coaxing from your friends, but Shayne remained neutral. It almost pissed you off that each time you asked him for advice on whether or not you should do it, he'd say it's up to you. Shayne couldn't help it, he still finds himself not wanting to push you too far, he still wants to protect you from anything he can. Most fans loved you, but what if it stops? He was still in shock of how much everyone seemed to like you. His heart couldn't help but flutter with pride and joy each time he read a comment that spoke highly of you.

It couldn't compare to the love Shayne has for you. He writes every small, tender thought he has about you down in his phone. He isn't sure when they started now, but it was definitely before you had started dating.

He started off using it to get things off of his chest, to write down the words of admiration that he wished he could tell you. Overtime it'd had begun to be every thought he'd had about you.

"I told the stars about you"

"you're the only one want to wake up next to"

"I wonder what goes through your mind when someone says my name"

Damien and Spencer have heard almost all of them, extremely supportive of him, always quick to call it sweet. That's then followed with different ways to call Shayne a simp. It turned into a joke between them, dubbing them Shayne's Simp Notes.

Gears were turning as Shayne shuffled from your bed quietly, grabbing his phone from the night stand before wandering into the living area, brewing coffee.

He took a deep breath, unlocking his phone as he finished replaying his morning in his head before noting the time. 8:17AM is when the perfect idea strikes, apparently.

Shayne was quick to open the notes app and begin writing out everything. He's loosely planned sketches for the show before but this was much bigger, he wrote out every detail to make sure it'd go right.

After about an hour of nonstop writing with Shayne's eyes glued to his screen, his coffee long gone cold, your yawn echos down the hall.

A smile stretches across his face as he finishes his last line, closing out of the app before setting his phone on the tabletop. You enter the room rubbing your eyes as yOu mile softly at Shayne. His ASU shirt covered your top half, an old pair of gym shorts covered your bottom.

Without a word, you made your way over to Shayne's lap, straddling him as you rest your head on his shoulder while he rubs your back gently.

The two of you tend to lay in bed together and cuddle if you're up before your alarms, enjoying the peace of being together before beginning your respective days. On the off days where that doesn't happen, you tend to make up for that lost time whenever you can, like right now.

"Ditch me on my day off, I see how it is." You chuckled as you sat up, rubbing your fingers lightly through Shayne's hair as he groaned playfully.

"I'm sorry, you're just dating an absolute genius, and I had a breakthrough, baby." Shayne laughed softly as you rolled your eyes; he moved to cup your cheeks pressing his lips to yours softly.

The two of you sat there for a bit longer, chatting until your alarms rang in your distant bedroom. You sullenly removed yourself from Shayne's lap, snagging his mug of coffee before disappearing down the same halway you'd wandered out of earlier.

"Ew, Shayne this is so old! How long have you been up?!" You shouted as your turned off the ringing, prompting a laugh from Shayne.

He makes sure to bring you a fresh mug, prepared just how you like as you're busy getting ready later. Your heart swelled at the small action.

It wasn't anything out of the ordinary from Shayne, he loved using small, subtle ways to show his affection. You always had fresh flowers from the very beginning of your relationship, sometimes you'd have more than one bouquet at a time. He's been a big fan of ordering things to you while he's away, off on shoots or even while hest at work.

He once ordered groceries to your apartment and video called you to cook together when he was on a trip to visit his parents.

You adored him so much. This relationship had far exceeded what you thought it could be, and you couldn't be happier. You're heart swells at just the thought of your boyfriend and everything he means to you.

The two of you arrived on set a bit early, giving you time to mingle with everyone. You were quick to dart from Shayne, heading toward Kimmy and Courtney across the room.

Shayne stood off to the side, staring at his phone screen once more. He felt like he was gonna scream, throw up, and cry all at once. He just needed to get through this. It's just an episode with his friends, he's gonna tell jokes and do his characters, his girlfriends gonna be there, it's gonna be amazing.

The box sat heavy on his thigh in the front pocket of his jeans, the outline barely concealed by the flannel he had buttoned over his white tee in an attempt to hide it.

Shayne eyed Kimmy, chewing his lip as she finally departed from her conversation with you. He was quick to grab her, requesting something weird of her. He needed you to go last, this wasn't something he wanted to have as the opening bit.

He kept the reasoning to himself, and Kimmy didn't seem too concerned about it so she happily agreed.

Once the others had arrived, Noah only setting the shoot back half an hour, they began rolling. You did great, getting Damien out quickly with an inside joke the three of you had shared after a trip to Universal one night.

Shayne was so nervous he found himself laughing his way through his joke, which eventually got Damien after it had become evident that Shayne wouldn't be able to stop his laughter.

His nerves had settled a bit, his arms wrapped around your shoulders, small kissed placed on your forehead between your bits, hidden by the divider.

You grinned as the end of the video neared, you being called to the yellow stool last. You filled your mouth with water and gave a thumbs up as you heard rustling from behind the divider.

"Okay, this isn't my turn but just wanna do this real quick" Shayne called out, peering around the corner as you shrugged.

After a few seconds, a toy crow flew over the clothing rack as Shayne belted out a purposefully bad impression of Train. You spewed instantly as cackling sounded from your boyfriend.

"I hate you!" You called out as you refilled your mouth, shaking your head.

"No, you don't." He called back, laughing.

The others' bits flew by as Shayne stood behind the divider, his wig and phone clutched tightly in his hands as he took deep breaths.

Shayne told you to close your eyes as he pulled on the curly, bob wig from a character of his.

You had a hate/love relationship of Shayne's simp character, Sir Phillip Simpne, so he felt it was right for this occasion. He had his phone hidden behind an open book as he moved to stand beside you on the stool. He cleared his throat, offering you a smile as your opened your eyes.

You groaned, keeping your mouth shut as you shook your head, determined to hold it over Shayne that he couldn't make you laugh with this bit.

"I haven't a poem for you today, m'lady," Shayne begun, trying his best not to laugh as you stared at him blankly. "I offer you something better. I bring love notes that I have written about the fair maiden before me today."

Shayne's palms felt sweaty as he looked down at his phone, deciding to drop the accent as he read to you, the giggles from others were silent to him.

"l'm gonna start from the beginning, kind of," He smiled, nodding as he looked up at you, removing the wig. "I wrote 'I never planned to like you this much and never planned to think about you this often' right before we started dating."

Shayne couldn't look at you as he felt tears prickle at his eyes, his throat running dry as he knew he'd run out of time.

Nobody in the room was counting anymore. Once Shayne had gotten more serious, the air in the room shifted and everyone grew quiet.

You sat in the chair, head tilted in confusion when Shayne had dropped the character, the game leaving your mind all together as you tried to process what was happening.

"Uh, 'I wonder if we ever think about each other at the same time.'" He kept his eyes on his phone, a bit scared to meet your eyes. You stared at him in perplexion.

"Okay, on my birthday I wrote 'of all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you', then the next day wrote 'there's been a place for you in my heart since we first met.'" Shayne sniffled, looking to you with teary eyes, chuckling a bit.

You took in his appearance with your brows furrowed, his cheeks were bright red, his blue eyes glistening.

"So, yeah, those are some of my Simp Notes." Shayne spoke softly as he caught sight of you laughing, some water dribbling from your lips.

You stood from the stool, taking a few steps away as you swallowed, wiping your mouth. You were still clueless as to what exactly was happening, but the name had caught you off guard and made you laugh.

Shayne felt like time slowed down, everything was going too perfectly as he removed the box from his pocket, your back still to him as you laughed.

He found himself grateful for your unwillingness to laugh at him, you allowed him to tell you some of the things he hadn't been able to before.

The energy had come back to the room, everyone laughing as soon as you broke, the assumptions previously made now leaving everyone's mind until Shayne drops to one knee.

A few gasps are heard as you turn back toward Shayne. small shriek leaves you as your eyes widden quickly at the sight.

You two had talked about marriage before, and you both wanted to get married, but you didn't expect this. Nothing could've given this away for you.

"I wanna spend the rest of my life making you laugh." Shayne chuckled as you laughed a rolled your eyes as the purposely bad joke.

"Y/N, will you marry me?" Shayne's voice barely audible, the crew further back hadn't even heard him ask.

"Yes, Shayne!" You squeal, your boyf- no.

Your fiance is quick to grab you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he lifts you up. The two of you are a mess of tears, smiles, sniffles, kisses, and whispers as the room is filled with cheers.

You and Shayne are quickly enveloped with loads of your friends, the shock and excitement evident throughout the room.

After a few minutes, Kimmy hugs you and Shayne tightly, congratulating the two of you continuously, quickly gasping as she looks up.

"I can't believe you didn't tell anyone!" Kimmy sniffles, smacking Shayne's chest lightly as he laughed. You looked to him with wide eyes, quickly looking to Damien in confusion as he shook his head.

"Yeah, I've had the ring for... uh, some time now" Shayne laughed, blushing brightly as you at him in awe. "I wanted to surprise you, and| wanted to have a bunch of people we care about with us to celebrate, it just felt right."

Shayne couldn't hide his embarrassment as you wrapped him into another hug, the two of you embracing each other for a few moments, happy tears falling from and for the couple.

"Oh my god, we're still doing a video, holy shit." She laughs, wiping her own tears as she quickly moved out of frame, the rest of the crew following suit. The cast quickly surrounded you once more, each with bright smiles and tear stained cheeks.

You sit back on the stool, grinning as Shayne stands beside you, his arm draped over your shoulders.

"Pst." Damien called loudly from Shayne's other side. "You should give her the ring, Shayne." He whisper-yelled, causing a fit of giggles to ripple through everyone, both you and Shayne blushing deeply.

He fumbles a bit as he opens it again, pulling the delicate, ornate ring from the box before sliding it on to your finger.

You pressed your hand on to your lap, grinning as you stared at the accessory that fit you perfectly in every way.

"I could not imagine being a comedian and having to go on after this guy." Spencer called from out of frame, causing Shayne to cackle.

You guys were quick to wrap up your outro, Shayne still wrapped around you the whole time, placing a kiss to your forehead as they called for a wrap on the shoot.

This was the perfect he was looking for.

[justmeinadaze]

We're A Family Part 16 (Steddie X You)

A/N: This is very much a Steddie chapter and I love it so much. This is probably going to be one of if not my favorite chapter in this series. I wanted them to really fully embrace that lovers aspect of their relationship and totally be ok loving each other as much as they love the reader.

Warnings: Parent Dads Steddie and Mama Reader, mentions of trying and struggling to get pregnant, SMUT (between the boys <3), lots of fluff, Steve VERY BRIEFLY mentions fears of telling his family they are trying to have another kid. I think that's it. Genuinely just a lot of sweetness in this one.

Word Count: 3116

“Fuck me…”, Steve pants as he throws his arm over his eyes. 

“I just did.”, you giggle as you roll over to face him. 

You and Steve had been spending a lot more time alone in the pursuit of baby number three. Of course, Eddie was still very much involved in sexy time but he insisted if there was a point where he could take the kids out of the house, you three should take the opportunity. 

It had been a few months and still no positive test. The doctor insisted you both were healthy and fine, you just “need to keep trying.” The metalhead did everything he could to help. 

“Eddie, baby, why are you smoking so far away? You can sit next to me on the porch here.”

“I know, sweetheart, but I read online that smoke can affect you when you’re trying to get pregnant.”

“You were smoking around me constantly before and we still got Ro.”, you laugh.

“Baby, I can do the dishes. You’ve been at work all day.”

“Y/N, it’s fine. You and Steve just relax, ok? I got this. Wayne said stress sometimes can make it harder for you two to…you know…”

“Hey, princess! I went grocery shopping today so you don’t have to on Friday after work. I also got some more fruit. I read this book at work that was saying it helps with trying to have a baby.”

Steve grins as he turns to face you as well. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just…I don’t know.”

“Honey, it’s ok. It will happen when it happens.”

“I just feel bad. I feel like Eddie is stressing himself out taking care of us.”

“He has been going a little overboard.”, he chuckles. “Oh, I know that look. Dylan makes that face when he’s planning something. What do you have in mind, baby?”

***

“Mom, this place is amazing.”, Dylan’s jaw drops as he looks around the house the realtor brought you guys to. 

It was a rustic style home that definitely had that country feel. The entryway lead into the kitchen on the right and gigantic living room straight ahead with a gorgeous stone fireplace. The back door was mostly clear glass so you would be able to see outside when the kids were playing. 

“It’s beautiful. It’s not too far from Wayne either and it’s right next to the lake.”, Eddie grins, running his fingers along the countertop in the kitchen. 

“It’s also within your budget and has those five rooms you had originally mentioned, ma’am.”, the man showing you the house guides you around, pointing out the two bedrooms downstairs and the backyard that is much bigger than your current one. 

Steve pats Aurora’s back as she continues to sleep, drooling on the shoulder of his jacket.

“Do you mind if we talk for a minute?”

“No, ma’am. Take all the time you need.”

The four of you lean against the counters in the kitchen as you wait for him to leave. “What do you think, kid?”, Eddie asks.

“I like it a lot especially since it’s by the water.”

“It’s closer to my store but it’s a bit of a drive for the three of you every morning.”

You chew on your nail as you think. “Just an extra 10minutes which isn’t too bad. What do you think, Stevie?”

“I’m fine with the drive. We may need to update some things though like childproofing the locks and stuff. Other than that, I think it’s perfect.”

“Alright, gentlemen. Let’s fill out some applications and pray.”

##############

“Hang on, Ed.” Steve reaches over and grabs Eddie’s arm as he begins to get out of the car. “You guys have fun! “

“Bye dada an daddy.”, Aurora waves.

They wave back with a smile, waiting for you three to get inside before the man drives away. 

“What’s going on?”, the metalhead asks. 

“Y/N and I thought you needed some time away from the kids and the house so we’re going on a date.”

“Did Y/N not want to come? She should have a night out to.”

“Eddie!”, Steve chuckles. “She’s fine, trust me. Let me show you what a date night with Steve Harrington is like.”

“Oh, someone’s cocky. Alright, Harrington. Wine and dine me.”, he grins. 

***

“Mom? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, can you just…hold my hand. I’m so nervous.” Dylan smiles as he sits on the floor beside you and takes your hand in his. “This anticipation is killing me. With you and Ro it was just like ‘Hey, there’s a baby in there.’ I’ve never really had to utilize a pregnancy test like this.”

“With Aurora, you thought you were sick. Did you think the same thing before you found out about me?”

“Naw, with you, I was doing a routine exam and they had to make sure I wasn’t pregnant.”

The timer on your phone beeps and you sigh before reaching onto the bedside table where the test had been sitting. As you read the results, uncontrollable tears begin cascading down your face while Dylan wraps his arms around your neck.

***

“That band was fucking awesome!”, Eddie exclaims as the other man grins at his excitement. 

Steve decided to take the metalhead to new bar just outside of the city limits. He knew how much he loved music, thinking it would make him happy to see some bands play while they drank and talked. 

“It’s been a while since you guys have been on a stage like that. Do you miss it?”

The man shakes his head as he takes a swing of the beer from his glass. “I mean I still play with the guys but that rush that I used to get being on stage…no it’ll sound stupid.”

“No, come on. Tell me.”

“That rush I used to get…I get now with the kids. Dude, seeing Dylan on his first date and watching Ro learn do those vocabulary card things you got her… that makes me happy. I can’t wait to see what this new baby will be like.” Eddie notices Steve’s posture stiffen and he promptly reaches out to rub his shoulder. “Hey, it’ll happen, man.”

“I know. I hate seeing that sad look on her face with every period or failed test.”

“The doctor said everything was good though, right?”

“Yeah, just have to keep trying.”, he sighs before glancing towards Eddie. “I haven’t told my mom yet that Y/N and I are…you know. I’m afraid she’ll tell my dad and I have no idea what he’ll do.”

“Steve, babe, fuck your dad. He can try whatever he wants but he’s not breaking up our family.”

The man exhales a cute, breathy chuckle. “Did you just call me babe?”

The metalhead grins even wider as he leans closer to him. “Depends. Did you like it?”

#######

 The bathroom door to the men’s room hurtles open as Steve pushes Eddie through it with his lips on his and quickly locks it behind him. The metalhead groans, shoving his back against it and begins fumbling with the other boy’s belt before lowering himself to his knees. 

“Fuck.”, Steve mewls as the man below him takes his already leaking cock into his mouth. Eddie knows exactly how his husband likes it, you showed him well, and he revels in the sounds he pulls from him as he takes him deeper till he’s gagging around him. 

It’s not just the action itself but his small, tender touches that have Steve moaning. While Eddie bobs his head, his hands roam the other man’s body, tracing the back of his thighs, up to his stomach. Steve can’t help but wonder how he would react if he spoke to Eddie the same way he talked to you. 

“That’s it, Eddie, baby, fuck. Just like that.” His eyes fluttered closed as he tangled his fingers into his hair, guiding him as the metalhead’s rhythm picked up. Steve couldn’t hold out any longer, he needed him now. 

He tugged on the boy’s hair and he took the hint, rising to his feet and hooking his lips to Steve’s sweet spot on his neck. Growling with desire, he lifted Eddie into his arms and placed him on the counter, aggressively yanking off his jeans. Pulling him to the edge, he lifted his leg over his shoulder and guided his cock into the man’s entrance. 

Eddie’s eyes rolled as Steve slid his hand along his stomach, slowly thrusting his hips as he relished the feeling of the man he loved.

Did he tell him that enough? I’m sure if he asked, Eddie would tell him he’s being silly and of course he does. They had gotten much closer these past few years and became more comfortable sexually but there was a level of intimacy Steve felt they still struggled with. 

“Eddie?” The man responded with a hm as he bit his lip to keep from moaning too loud. “I love you.”

He heard the change in Steve’s tone, promptly opening his eyes to scan him over. Propping himself up on one of his elbows, he reached over to caress his cheek as his thumb glided along his skin. 

“I love you to.”

“No, No. I love you.” 

Eddie blinked a few times before wrapping his hand around the man’s neck and pulling him down till he was hovering over him.

“I love you to. So fucking much, sweetheart. I-I grew up feeling like no one—mmm—no one ever really cared about me. Then I met you and Y/N.” He craned his neck to capture the man’s lips. “Steve, you can talk to me like you talk to her. I like it.”

“Yeah? So, you would like hearing—fuck—hearing me say things about how good you fucking feel, baby, squeezing my cock?”

“Jesus.” Eddie laid back flat against the counter as his hand reached down to stroke his own dick. 

“That’s it, Eddie. Play with yourself while I fuck you. God, you look so fucking sexy right now.”

“Ha-harder, Steve. Please.”, he moans. 

“Is that what you need, honey? I can do that.”

As he rolled his hips into his roughly, the metalhead covered his mouth with his palm, suffocating the urge to scream at the pleasure that ran through his body. His back arched as his abs tensed as rope after rope of spend hit the skin on his stomach. 

“Fuck me.”, Steve groaned as he pounded into the man faster chasing his high. After a few more rough thrusts, Eddie felt him cum inside of him, look up to watch his eyebrows scrunch together and his neck muscles tighten as he did. 

Gradually, he pulled his softening cock out of him and reached over to grab some napkins to help clean Eddie up.

“I’m sorry if these are rough. They aren’t like our towels at home.”, Steve sighs as he tosses the paper in the trash. As he begins pulling up his pants, Eddie abruptly tackles him into a hug, squeezing tightly as he lays his cheek on his chest. “Is everything ok?”

The metalhead nods. “Y/N does this to us after and now I kind of see why. I feel…closer to you if that’s even fucking possible.”

Steve softly laughs as he wraps his own arms around him, pressing him tighter to his chest with his palm. “Yeah, baby. I know what you mean.”

***

As they walk into the front door of the house, they are surprised to find it completely silent. Steve quietly searches the downstairs, turning off lights while Eddie locks everything down. 

When the enter their bedroom, they grin finding everyone asleep in your bed. Dylan was on his side with you behind him, arm draped over him and Aurora who was snuggled up in her brother’s chest as she sucked her thumb. 

Both men quickly changed out of their cigarette, bar smelling clothes and crawled into bed; Steve behind you and Eddie behind his daughter. 

***

“Daddy.”, Ro coos as she lightly taps her father’s face with her palm. “Daddy. Wake up.”

“Ro. Aurora.”, you whispered as you tapped her side. “Leave daddy alone and let him sleep, sweetie.”

“Mama, no. Daddy wake up.”

Dylan groaned in his sleep as he rolled over to face you. 

“Why? Why do you need daddy to wake up?”

She giggles as she falls to her knees and pushes at his arm. “Daddy, I miss you.”

“Well, that’s adorable.”, Steve sighs.

“Dada help Rara.”

“What do you need help with honey? Waking up daddy?” He lazily lifts his arm towards Eddie, trying to reach him with his hand. “Op, he’s too far. I can’t.”

“Dada!”, she growls and you feel the man smile in your shoulder. Aurora begins pushing at him again until he rolls onto his back and playfully pushes her aside with his hand. 

“I think I chose the wrong side to sleep on.”, he grumbles. 

“Hun-gee.”, she points to her stomach. 

“Aurora Munson- Harrington, you did not just wake him up for that!”, you giggle as she beams at you. 

“Whoosh!”, she exclaims as she pretends to throw something in the air. 

“She wants dad’s pancakes.”, Dylan yawns as he stretches. “Which actually sounds good.”

“Can you take her downstairs and put on a cartoon for her, weirdo? Give them some time to wake up.”

Your son nods as he slides off the bed, coming around to pick up his sister and bring her downstairs. Both men immediately scoot closer to you, pulling you into their embrace. 

“Did you two have fun last night?”

“Mhmm. He took me on a ‘Steve Harrington style date’.”

“Oh, you lucky man.”

“Did you three do anything exciting last night?”, Steve asked. 

“We did. Watched a few movies and ordered a pizza. I did go to the store real quick and bought you guys something. Eddie, baby, can you look into your nightstand and grab the thing on top for me?”

He sleepily nodded as he shifted his body to grab what you were asking for. His eyes suddenly snapped open as he realized what he was holding. 

“Harrington. STEVE!”, Eddie shouted startling the other man as he sat up making you laugh harder. The metalhead handed him the pregnancy test and he promptly sat up straighter. 

“Is this…? Are we…? Is this real? You’re really pregnant?”

Your grin grows as you nod. Steve tackles his arms around you, kissing every part of your face his lips can reach. As soon as you’re free, Eddie does the same much more gently. 

“Oh my god. I’m so happy.” Steve lays back down with a big smile on his face as he exhales. 

“You see what I mean, babe? Same kind of rush but better.”, the metalhead grins as he winks at the other man whose own smile grows. 

“Oh wow.” Both men look at you with confused looks as you smirk. “Ok, I don’t know what you two did last night but that energy is back.”

“Are you drunk? You shouldn’t be drinking if you’re pregnant.”

You giggle as you slap Eddie’s shoulder. “No, no, no. Nothing wrong with it. I kind of missed that…electricity…between the two of you. Maybe you both need a date night more often.”

After kissing them both again, you climb out of bed and head for the bedroom door, pausing as you turn to face them. 

“I hope you know you both can be intimate without me. I genuinely don’t mind. I know you both love me just as much as you love each other.” You flash them one final smile before going down the stairs. 

“We don’t deserve her.”, Steve sighs pleasantly as he watches you leave. 

“Yeah, we do. Charlie didn’t deserve her. Fucking idiot.” Eddie lays back down, scooting closer to the other boy. “I still think about the first time I talked to her on the stairs outside of the apartment. He was making her feel bad about him not coming to see Dylan. When I opened the door to sit outside and smoke, I just wanted to protect her. I wanted to drive to wherever he was and kick his ass.”

Steve slid a little closer to him till the back of his hand was barely touching his. 

“I always think about that night at The Hideout when we surprised her while she was on her date and you played that one AC/DC song for her. When she ran out of that bar…I can’t tell you how happy it made me especially after being away from her for so long. She fucking flew into our arms and I never wanted to let her go.”

“We kind of didn’t.”, he chuckled. 

Their fingers intertwined as they turned to smile at each other. Eddie leaned over and brought his lips to his, both men laughing as they pulled away when they heard loud noises downstairs.

“Hey! Are you trying to make everyone lose their hearing?! Turn the tv down!”, Steve hollered over dramatically as they both entered the area. 

“Told you.”, you sang from the sink as you washed some dishes you knew the metalhead would need.

Eddie wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you to his chest as he leaned his head on your shoulder.

“Taking more than her share, had me fighting for air She told me to come, but I was already there 'Cause the walls start shaking, the Earth was quaking My mind was aching and we were making it

And you shook me all night long Yeah, you shook me all night long.”

You grinned at the memory as he sang softly in your ear. Steve turned off the water before circling his arms around you both, kissing the top of your head. The sound of tiny feet slapping into the kitchen had you laughing in his chest. 

“Daddy! Rara and Din hun-gee!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah ya little butt. Come here.” She giggled as she ran into his arms and he lifted her onto the counter. “You’re going to help me?” Aurora nodded her little head as she waited for instructions. 

Steve lifted you into his arms and carried you to the living room, placing you gently on the sofa. 

“Did you tell them?”

“I did. They’re pretty excited.”

“I am to.”, Dylan smiled. “Did you guys want to play a game while we wait for breakfast? Especially since now she’s distracted.”

“I’m not really good with games.”

“Uh huh. Making excuses already, Steve Harrington. That’s ok. Dylan and I already know you suck.”

He jokingly scowls in your direction as your son hands you both a controller. 

“What are we playing?”

#############

@adequate-superstar @kalinaselennespeaks @strangerfreak

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[thesparkling-diamond27]

The Second Bridgerton And I: Part 4

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Y/n Clearwater becomes named the “Sparkling Diamond” by Queen Charlotte herself, but she doesn’t know what to do with all this attention. Of course she has her family, but sometimes that doesn’t seem enough. But what happens when she encounters a specific Bridgerton, which changes the course of her season.

Author’s Note: I am sorry for not updating sooner. When I posted chapter 3 I already had half of this chapter written, but I stated working recently and I have been reading the Bridgerton prequels (which are amazing by the way I highly recommend), so I have been a little busy. I am here now and I already have most of the next chapter written, so there should be another update really shortly. This story is also going to be a lot longer than I originally thought wave I planned to do about one chapter per episode and that plan is out the window. Especially since am adding scenes that are not from the show.

Author’s Note: This chapter includes scenes from season 3 episode 3 of Bridgerton. Down below is the link to the part 3. I hope you enjoy! Y/nn= reader’s nick name.

My family and I entered Lord Tremble’s house and it was quite different from other social events. This event was nothing like a ball and was more like an event to socialize and mingle with one another. I would definitely be glued to my families side tonight because I knew many people would approach me. Last ball I was able to completely occupy myself with Maxwell, but here it won’t be the case.

I wonder if Benedict and his family were here yet. He did say he was coming and all week I have been looking forward to spending more time with him.

My siblings and I were rather hungry and we made our way to the food table. As I picked my desired foods I couldn’t help but notice the deer heads that were hanging from the wall.

“Is it just me or are those deer heads watching us?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Adeline said, “but it sure seems like it. They are creepy. Let us hurry so we can leave them.”

Adeline and I hurried with our food selection and forced our brothers to do the same. The four of us then made our way across the room. It has been a while since the four of us passed the time with another and it brought back memories from our childhood.

“What are you thinking about Carina?”

Noah asked.

“Nothing.” I said. “I just missed this. The four of us all together.”

Alex put his arm around my shoulder and said, “Well we are not going anywhere little sister. Even when you want nothing to do with us we will still be here annoying you. And you will still be here annoying us when we want nothing to do with you.”

He said that in the most brotherly way possible and it warmed my heart. Adeline and Noah both gave smiles filled with the same message and meaning as Alex.

“So.” Adeline started, “How are things with you and Lord Tewkesberry? I’m assuming things are going well.”

“And here is where we take our leave.”

Alex said.

“Why?” I asked.

“We do not need to hear the two of you discussing men. We hear enough of that at home.” Noah said. “We will be over there in the corner in case you need us.”

Adeline and I both nodded in understanding and the both of them walked away.

“So. Lord Tewkesberry. How are things?” Adeline asked.

“Things are going well between us. The way things are going I am expecting him to ask to court me soon.”

“That is good.”

“How are things going with you and Lord Harvey?”

“Very well! I think he might propose before the end of the season!”

Lord Harvey asked Adeline to court her the day after the ball last week. They have been courting ever since and Adeline seemed content.

“Are you happy Adeline?”

“I am.” She said with a smile.

I smiled in return. We were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Speak of the devil.

“Miss Clearwater. Miss Clearwater.” Lord Harvey said.

Adeline and I slightly curtsied while he bowed in return.

“Can I steal you for a moment?” He said towards Adeline.

“Of course!” She said excitedly. “Are you going to be okay all by yourself?” She asked me.

I wanted to say no. I did not want suitors to approach me and I would feel uncomfortable being all alone. I have also been on edge all day, and being left alone can possibly trigger me, but I did not want to hold Adeline back with Lord Harvey.

“Do not worry about me. You go on ahead.”

Adeline nodded and she placed her hand into Lord Harvey’s and they went to have more privacy. I found myself quite parched and decided to find a lemonade table.

The lemonade table was in a separate room tucked in the corner. It was the perfect place to hide away. I took a sip of the pale yellow liquid and it was refreshing.

“Miss Clearwater.”

I turned around and was startled when I saw three men standing in front of me. When did they get here?

“We’re sorry for frightening you Miss Clearwater. We simply wanted to talk with you.” Said Lord Clayton I believe.

“That is alright. I thought I was alone.”

I said.

“Well now that we have your attention, we are quite curious about you.” The second man said.

“Curious about what exactly?”

“About you.” The third man said. “What are your hobbies? What makes you tick?”

“Are you a morning person or night person? What makes you you?” The second man asked.

Lord Clayton started asking me a series of more questions, but I could not hear him. His words were blurred as if we were underwater. The questions from the three of them were all too much at once. I felt the oxygen slowly leave my lungs and I could not breathe. Tears started to fill my eyes. I had to get out of here.

I walked past the three men and tried to find a quiet private place to breathe. Several suitors tried to stop me, but I kept on walking. I even bumped into one of them, but I did not pay them any mind. I just needed to get out of here. I walked down the hall and opened the nearest door. It was empty, so I quickly shut the door and slid down to the floor. My tears continued to flow as I tried to control my breathing. This was not the first time I have had a panic attack, but it was the first time in a while. The solution for me to become well again is for me to be secluded until I felt like I was better.

After a while my breath evened and I could finally see clearly. I took a moment to look around the room.

To my right was a marble fireplace with the fire running and a portrait of Lord Tremble, I’m assuming, above. Towards the center of the room was a sofa and two chairs across which a coffee table in between. Behind the lounge area, facing me, were windows that were ceiling high. It had a windowsill to gaze at the view. The room was cozy.

I wiped my tears from my face when I was pushed forward by a force. I turned around and noticed someone opened the door.

“I’m sorry I hit you! I did not realize you were on the floor.”

It was a man’s voice, but it did not belong to my father or brothers. The door opened fully and Benedict stepped into the room

—————————

Benedict

I entered a room, with Eloise and Colin, and I saw Ms. Stowell and her mama noticing my presence.

Great! Just the two people I needed to see.

I turned to Eloise.

“If anyone asks for me, I am not here.”

I did not wait for her response and escaped. I wonder if Y/n is here, because she did say that she will be here. I started reading the book she recommended me and it was very interesting. Maybe we can talk about it. I definitely had some thoughts to share.

I walked into three entirely different rooms with no sight of Y/n. Maybe she has not arrived or I missed her. I noticed the table with alcohol and decided that that was the way to go for tonight. If anything was going to save me from the relentless mamas it would be this, but not too much that my mind will be too affected to function.

I took a sip of the amber liquid and it burned as it went down my throat. However it kept me in check and awakened my senses.

Suddenly someone bumped into me and I looked to see that it was Y/n. But something was wrong and she did not look well. I placed my cup on the table and went after her. She was walking fast past people, so it was difficult to keep up, and she made a left. I heard a door slam coming from an empty hallway. She was in one of these rooms.

I opened the first two doors and was left with empty rooms. I approached the third door and I heard sniffle coming from the other side.

She was crying and my heart clenched at the sound. Y/n deserved nothing, but good things. I could not bear to hear her cry and I knew I would not like seeing her cry if I was in the room with her.

I waited until her crying to die down before I opened the door, however I did not realize she was sitting on the ground and I accidentally hit her.

“I’m sorry I hit you! I did not realize you were on the floor.” I said.

Y/n looked at me from the ground and her cheeks were stained with dry tears. I quickly crouched down to meet her on the floor and pulled out a handkerchief from my coat pocket.

“Here.” I said softly.

Cautiously I dabbed under her cheeks and around her eyes. I caressed the side of her face with handkerchief and started into her eyes. They were the most mesmerizing e/c eyes I have ever seen, and I somehow saw my future when I looked into them. It was crazy to think of such things, but when her irises met my own I felt a sense of warmth and home.

I snapped out of my daze and handed her the handkerchief. She blew her nose and we fell into a comfortable silence.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” I asked.

Y/n said nothing, but she stood up and walked over to sit on the windowsill. Her gaze upon the view below. I slowly raised to stand up and followed her to where she sat.

“The windowsill has always been a source of comfort for me. Whenever I am having a hard time, here I can find peace.” She said.

I nodded in response, but she did not look up at me,so I do not think she noticed.

“I had a panic attack. It has been a while since I had one that I forgot how exhausting it can be. The questions Lord Clayton ,and a few others, were bombarding me with and the immense pressure was all too much at once. I had to get away.”

“Do you feel better now?” I asked.

“I do not know.”

“What immense pressure do you struggle with Y/n?”

“Pressure from being the diamond. My family. Society. Especially society.”

“Why mainly society?”

Y/n stayed silent and I thought she would remain that way. Then she looked at me for the first time, during this conversation, and I saw frustration in her eyes.

“People in society want everyone to remain in a neat little tiny box. To fit in. But would if I do not want to remain in the neat little tiny box. Would if I want to explore outside the box. See what more life has to offer. Would if I want to break free from the restraints that society has put on me because I am a woman.” She said

I did not know what to say after that statement. As a man I knew that we were “more free” compared to women. Especially involving marriage. We had the choice to be unwed, while unmarried women are considered spinsters. I guess I never really thought of ideals of this nature because I am a man and those rules do not apply to me. I could never know what a woman goes through, but I wanted to understand for Y/n.

Y/n stood from the windowsill, walked towards the fireplace and continued.

“I cannot do that though, because as soon as I step out of that box everyone will cast me aside. They expect more from me because I am the diamond. I have to be perfect. I have to be the perfect mold of society. And it kills me every time I play the game. There are so many rules! You can dance with who you like, but it is rude to deny a dance if you have not already reserved one with another man. You cannot ask to court a man because you must wait for them to do so. You cannot dance with one partner too many times. If you are caught in a scandal the whole ton judges you.And so much more. When does it end Benedict? When?”

Y/n’s voice cracked at the end and I noticed she began to cry. I quickly rushed over to her from where I sat. I stood in front of her and she looked up at me. Her eyes glistening with tears. I slowly wrapped my arms around her and laid my head on top of hers. I slowly began to caress her back. It was only thing I thought to do without making her more upset.

“I know I cannot make things better, I said, “but I will do everything in my power to make you happy. As your friend.”

—————————

I pulled away from Benedict and thanked him. He nodded, but I can still see concern in his eyes. I freed my self from his embrace and cleared my throat.

“We should both leave this room before someone notices that both of us are gone and catches us here. I would not want anyone to get the wrong idea.” I said.

“That works with me.”

I noticed I was still holding his handkerchief and motioned for him to take it back.

“Keep it. It is yours.” Benedict said.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

I looked down at the white handkerchief and noticed that Benedict’s initials were beautifully sewn into it with blue stitching.

B.B.

“Thank you.” I said.

I looked up at Benedict and we both shared a mutual understanding. We will discuss this later. I folded his handkerchief and stuffed it into the top of my dress. I then made my way to the door, twisted the door knob and left the room.

I began to search for my family. This incident happened because I strayed from my family in the first place. I hope I look presentable because I did not want my family asking questions about what happened. Not when feelings from the situation was still fresh. I did not even ask Benedict if I looked decent. I regret not asking.

I entered the room with the deer heads and I saw my brothers in the corner. As I approached them they must have noticed my affected mood and appearance because they looked at me with concerned expressions.

“Are you okay Y/n?” Noah asked.

“Can…can I stay with you two for the rest of the night?”

“Of course.” Alex said.

They did not say anything, but I can tell by the looks on their faces that they would want to talk later on like Benedict.

—————————

The balloon was quite disappointing. For the past week, all throughout the ton, people have been talking about the giant ballon. That it was grand and majestic and could transport several people to other areas.

The balloon part was beautiful. I can tell that a lot of detail and time went into the design. The basket part on the other hand , was small and strong looking, but not grand and majestic. It could fit about two people if you want enough space to maneuver around and three people tops if you are content with little wiggle room. I would definitely not ride the balloon if I was in need to travel a long distance. I assumed it would be bigger.

“Come one! Come all! Watch man attempt to take flight! Soaring to nights never before seen!”

A man with a megaphone was shouting

these words as my family and I entered the area. I was wearing a light blue day dress with a pink sheer scarf wrapped around my shoulders. Blue was uncommon in my everyday wardrobe, so I was excited to wear such a dress. The fabric was light and breathable, which was perfect for the hot weather.

“Let us all address the queen.” My mama said.

I linked my arm with Alex and we carried on to Queen Charlotte.

“I thought the balloon would be bigger. At least able to fit more than three people.” I said.

“People always tend to use hyperboles with such things like the balloon.” Alex said.

“What kind of sweets do you think they would have?”

I motioned to the pink tent with a pink sign that said “Ms. Plaskitt’s Sweet Treats”.

“You always have room for sweets Carina.”

“There is always room for sweets Felis.”

“Hoping for macarons?”

“Of course!”

We both laughed in unison. Our walk came to a halt when we became within talking distance of the queen. She looked beautiful with her turquoise colored dress and her unique wig. Her wig was extremely unbalanced, but that didn’t seem to deteriorate her poise and elegance. Queen charlotte is always so calm and collected and manages to always keep people on their toes. I wonder if I can become a lady like her one day in the future.

I approached the queen with my sister and mama. My brothers and father close behind. I curtsied with as much grace as I had.

“Flawless my dear. As I expected.” Queen Charlotte said. “Have you been enjoying your season so far.”

“I have your grace.”

“Any updates on Lord Tewksbury?”

Queen Charlotte was asking if Lord Tewkesberry courted or not. My family and his family were the only few people who know about the news and I intend to keep it that way.

“No. I am afraid not.” I said.

“Pity. Hopefully he courts you soon. I do not want my efforts to be in vain.”

“What do you mean your efforts being in vain?”

“I was the one who insisted to your parents for you to pursue Mr. Tewkesberry.”

This was the first time I was hearing this news and it made me feel unsettled. I thought I had made a bond with Maxwell and it was I who decided that he was a man I would like to persue, but all this time that was not true. It made me feel like my parents did not trust me with making my own choices.

“I hope your generous efforts result with a beautiful match.” I said.

“As do I. Now enjoy the day my diamond. I do not want to hold you forever.”

I gave the queen a grateful smile and curtsied before leaving. I noticed my mama looking at me with a defeated look. Hoping I would look at her, so I can speak with her, but I was not in the mood at the moment. This shall be a talk for later.

I went on a search for Pen or Benedict. I knew both of them were on their way if they were not already here. Whichever one I see first shall keep me company. As I was walking, I came across the sweets tent again. Maybe they have lemon cakes or possibly macarons I thought.

I entered the tent and notice Pen with Colin. I was surprised to see them with one another after everything that has happened, but they are friends after all. Pen was the one to notice me first when she turned from Colin.

“Y/nn! How lovely it is to see you. Care to join me?”

She did not give me a time to respond and grabbed my arm to follow her.

“My goodness. Eager are we?” I said.

Penelope realized that she was pulling my arm and set me free.

“I’m so sorry Y/nn.” Penelope said, “I’m in an excited state. I am trying to locate Lord Debling.”

Penelope and Lord Debling hit it off the other night at Lord Tremble’s gathering. I was happy for Pen. I knew she was wrong with her headspace on marriage and I was glad I was able to prove her wrong.

“Let us find him then.” I said with a smile. Penelope smiled back and we began our search for Lord Debling. We made a roundabout around the balloon when I noticed Lord Debling conversing with Eloise and Cressida Cowper.

“Pen he is over there past the hill, but are you sure you wish to talk to him considering who he is with at the moment.”

“I cannot let people stop me from doing what I would like to do. If that is how people lived nothing would get done.”

Penelope began to walk towards Lord Debling and I admired her determination, because if I were in her shoes, I would be walking the opposite way. I quickly caught up with Penelope and we continued our way. When we were three yards away from them Penelope hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Maybe you were right. This is a mistake. We should head somewhere else.”

“No Pen! Let us—“

“Ah Miss Featherington. Miss Clearwater.”

We both turned to see the owner of the voice to be Lord Debling. Penelope seems stuck not knowing what to do, so I nudged her along to continue walking. As we walked towards them I noticed Eloise and Cressida looking not pleased with us joining them. There is free rein around the park, so both of them have to deal with it I thought.

“My Lord. We do not wish to intrude.” Penelope said.

“Nonsense.” Lord Debling said, “I am about to embark on another trip with no one, but my crew. Surely you two will not deny me the company while I have the pleasure of it.

“Of course not.” I said.

The conversation became extremely uninteresting. I believe Cressida mentioned the bird the great auk,but I cannot say for certain. I tuned out most of the conversation. The wind was blowing more strongly than before and it felt nice against the humid air. I was mentally counting how much money I have to purchase sweet treats when I heard Penelope say,

“I must prefer the natural world to the..unatural one. There is nothing I love more than…grass.”

I mentally face palmed at the mention of grass. This conversation was not going great for Pen. I was about to intervene and help, but Lord Debling stated.

“What about grass do you so love Miss Featherington.”

“Uh…how it is so…green.”

“It is quite green.”

Cressida was trying to hide her laughter while Eloise seemed sorry for Penelope. I could not tell how Lord Debling was feeling, but he did not seem to find Penelope’s comment about grass odd. Maybe it is due to him being odd himself, but I would never say this out loud.

As the conversation progressed the wind grew stronger and it caused my scarf to blow throughout the wind. I chased after it, but the wind blew it even further. I ran after it, but the basket of the balloon was coming towards me. I could either run towards the basket to retrieve my scarf or run the other way empty handed. The latter was more safe, but that was my favorite scarf . Who knows what can happen to it.

I heard Penelope shouting my name, but I ignored them. My mission was to retrieve my scarf.

From the other side of the ballon I heard men trying to pull the balloon the other way. Hopefully this can give me the leverage I need to reach my scarf. The ballon moved from the bottom of the steps up to the middle of the wooden platform and it gave me enough room to run as fast as I could to my scarf.

My hand wrapped around the silk fabric and as I stood I noticed the basket of the balloon coming straight towards me.

The balloon is going to hit me.

The balloon is going to hit me.

The balloon is going to hit me.

That is all I could think about as the balloon came closer. I heard Penelope shouting for me to move, as I shuffled backwards. I tripped over my feet and fell on the ground. I closed my eyes in fear as I waited for the balloon to hit me.

Suddenly I felt someone from behind wrap their arm around my waist to shield me from the upcoming balloon.

[birdmitosis]

Voice of the Cold for the ask game, i hope I got here first D:

OMG, you did! :D And I am so happy to answer about Cold.

First impression

Pretty sure my first impression was of him in the Spectre route, and I was curious, a bit positively inclined, mostly on the strengths of how well he fit how we got him and also how hot his voice was. 😔 Yeah, I'll admit it. I looked forward to seeing more from him and was intrigued by the seeming discrepancy between his "emotionless" claims and his blatant grudge against the Narrator.

Impression now

I LOVE COLD SO MUCH. Ohhh, he is as much of a trauma response as the rest of them and is both driven to keep himself safe and also experience something new (which is itself not safe) and also not care about safety... He is dismissive and deeply caring and he can't stand stagnancy and yet he feels at home when everything unravels into the Long Quiet. One of my Top 3 faves I think.

Favorite moment

There are a lot of moments I could choose here but I think I still have to give it to my bias: Cold in the Wraith chapter alongside Paranoid. Especially this sequence:

This has lived rent-free in my head since I first saw it, it just hits me so hard in a "none of them are fully wrong but none are fully right either" way and says so much about Cold in the context of other things... Especially the absolutely wild "If you can tolerate joy, you can tolerate pain" line, like UM EXCUSE ME?

(But the whole chapter is great, with Cheated as well as with Paranoid, but I have a bias for so many moments with the Paranoid version, like the "you think you are brave" line from Wraith and the fact that Cold must have helped with the efforts to toss the body into the void... Wraith is a severely underrated chapter, I feel!)

Idea for a story

Look, because of the way I fandom, all my ideas are for shipfic and ParaCold is 1000% my OTP, soooo...

That said, a specific idea I've actually had that I still kinda want to use with something, that I may have mentioned before, is Hunted making a point that they need each other (as a group) and at their best they cover each others' blind spots and shore up each others' weak points.

When Cold pulls something along the lines of his "I'm special" thing, Hunted ends up challenging him to a "play" fight (no actual wounds being left, "wounds" marked with something like chalk or berry juice or something, fake blade, etc.). And by the time Cold calls that he's "killed" Hunted (and so obviously he's right that he doesn't need help/he has no weak spots that actually matter), Hunted can point out that he's managed to land enough "minor" blows that Cold would be bleeding out by now too, because he doesn't guard himself at all.

(I also kinda want to look more into a super queer TTRPG called Moonlight on Roseville Beach because I wanna play around a bit with an AU for it where the six possible player character "origin stories" are filled by Hero, Contrarian, Cold, Paranoid, the Princess, and the Narrator... "[In] Moonlight on Roseville Beach, it's the summer of 1979 and you work in the village by day while protecting yourself, your housemates, and your neighbors from supernatural monstrosities and occult horrors by night," and it's in a queernorm setting where LGBTQIA+ characters are considered the norm, with a "focus on queer people succeeding at keeping themselves and their communities safe (at least for a time).")

Unpopular opinion

TBH I also agree that Cold isn't all that edgy. I think he's quite straightforward most of the time and definitely has some issues -- I think he likes prodding at some of the other characters more than some people realize but also less than some people act like, he really does jump to "we could stab" very quickly as a response, he seems happy to encourage potential violence against himself if he finds it interesting in some way, he has a surprisingly big ego -- but also blatantly cares despite how he often talks, is curious and wants new things, and seems to like connecting with the other voices and even, sometimes, the vessels.

I also think he isn't as hard to get along with as some people think, in the sense of, I think he has like three different "modes" when it comes to interacting with people:

He vibes with how you do things, in which case he goes along quite well, is agreeable and calm, and seems to like you. (Skeptic in the Drowned Grey chapter is a clear example, but so is Cheated in the Wraith I think; IMO Hero and Hunted would go here as well.)

There's enough push-and-pull there that he finds you interesting, in which case he can get a bit intense, prod you some just to see the push back, might sometimes go along just to see what you'll do, and it's a bit harder to tell if he likes you (but honestly he does). (IMO Paranoid would go here, and I do actually think Smitten goes here as well.)

Neither of the above apply, in which case he's just bored of you, and if forced into constant proximity with you, annoyed. (Stubborn in MOC is the most blatant example; IMO Broken would go here as well, ironically outside of if you somehow managed to get Cold alongside him in the Tower route.)

(The first two can be true simultaneously for some people; I feel like Contrarian would be in both. Weirdly, I feel like Opportunist is somehow in both #2 and #3? Stubborn could eventually go into #2, under better circumstances. And the Narrator fits a special category of "fuck you" where He doesn't quite fit #2 but there are some similarities, Cold just doesn't like Him.)

...This got a bit weird and long and out of Unpopular Opinion territory, huh. WELL, TL;DR Cold isn't edgy and actually likes a good number of the other voices.

Favorite relationship

I mean, y'all can guess this one, right? >_>

No, but honestly, as a ship it's definitely ParaCold. But in a totally platonic way, I also really love his dynamic with Hero in the Spectre route, especially if you free Her, and with Skeptic in the Drowned Grey chapter (okay, okay, I can see that one as either platonic or shippy). And his dynamic with the Narrator fascinates me but I can't ever see them getting along.

Favorite headcanon

I love the idea that Cold picks up new things all the time, and whether he sticks with them or not he gets surprisingly good at them first. Skills, hobbies, other languages. I can imagine his handwriting getting better more quickly than a lot of the other voices because of this, and him also managing to bond with the others over doing their hobbies with them.

[leajdh]

Gold rush

Chapter Five: You who shimmy shook my bone, leaving me stranded all in love on my own.

He was just a few more steps away from becoming a living legend. Already praised by the media as the honored one, he made a grave mistake which not only put his Ice Hockey career on hold, it disappointed even his most loyal fans so much so that his reputation sank to an all-time low.

Then he meets you; a retired figure skating champion who is now trying to find her purpose in life after her triumphs, all while still being loved and cherished by the media and public likewise.

Satoru Gojo sees his chance to not only get back unto the rink, but also to regain his former popularity.

But he soon realizes it will be a lot harder to get on your good side, because he's everything you despise combined into one person.

Will you give him a second chance and allow him to redeem himself, or is this going to be the match for your life time?

Gojo Satoru x reader (first person narrator)

Ice Hockey AU

FAKE DATING TROPE

Enemies to lovers

English isn't my first language, so expect some grammar errors

18+!!

ALL CHAPTERS: https://www.tumblr.com/leajdh/722300699873083392/all-chapter-of-my-satoru-gojo-x-reader-fanfiction?source=share

Suguru was right. 

The people love us. The picture he took yesterday of Satoru and me went viral. Not even ten minutes after it was posted on Satorus instagram page, it had over 20k likes and over a thousand comments. Surely some comments were negative but that was predictable and mostly they were genuinely nice. We got a whole lot of comments telling us that we are perfect for each other, which is such an internet thing to say, because they don’t know anything about us other than we are both skating on ice. Well, certainly this is enough for the public to think we are compatible. 

We had a good run since the picture was taken. I don’t feel awkward or nervous around Satoru anymore. Against my better judgment sleeping with him really helped. I can look at him without having the sudden urge to run away and hide. 

And I like to look at him, especially when he is training with his focused face, listening to everything Mei Mei screams at him, but still completely absorbed in his flow. I have only watched him train for about thirty minutes, however I was hooked by his movements. The itch to watch him far longer was there, but I didn’t want to come across as if I have any kind of interest in him outside of our contract. 

The way I smiled at him in this goddamn picture was enough to set me off. 

I slept with him, I smiled like a simpleton at him and now I even enjoyed him playing Ice Hockey, the sport I hate more than anything. 

I had to press on my mental brake. Falling for him isn’t an option. After all, I still have my doubts about him. I can’t throw them all over board because we had sex. He is ever so unpredictable and arrogant and just not the one for me. 

At least social media proved itself useful in my dilemma. A user posted an edit of the way I glance before I step on the ice followed by a clip of Satoru doing the same. Once we are on the ice, knowing something is there to win, we both look and act the same. 

Maybe that’s what fascinates me when I watch him train. It is like looking in a macabre mirror, seeing another person as infatuated as myself with being the best. We have the same fixed stare, head slightly tilted downwards, looking up between our lashes and noticing everything around us without losing our center. Shoulders and back straight and neck long. The perfect posture, even while stepping and sliding on the ice.

I wish to know if his heart has the same beat as mine in these kinds of moments. Strong enough to feel it pulsate in my ears, feeling the blood flow hot up and down my carotid artery, vision focused but also blurry from the frenzy. 

The emergence of goosebumps all over the skin, not enough for others to notice, but just enough to feel it happening out of fever and being filled up with enough adrenaline to knock out a thousand men, but just enough of it to calm one maniac. 

I realized from the moment he blackmailed me with this video of us, we are cut from the same cloth. 

Since then I was on the lookout, my guard up to the moon but he still managed to slip right through and got the upper hand over me by noticing one of my weaknesses. 

How I am actually really insecure whenever I am not on the ice. 

How fragile my self-perception is. 

How important the voices of others are. 

How my life is one big ongoing performance. 

I let him see a glimpse of the real me and in return I got nothing. All I know about him, I can read online. Just some standard information. Granted our contract was formed because he wants his popularity back. Something that seems important to him. Nevertheless Suguru was the one who told me the resentment of his fans affected Satoru. It wasn’t Satoru who openly claimed and explained it. 

He doesn’t let me in and it pisses me off. 

I don’t want him to win. When we will walk out of the contract, I want to have the upper hand.  

Should we be a team? Absolutely. 

Are we both team players? Absolutely not.

Well, I know I am not a team player. He should be one as the captain of an Ice Hockey team, but I have the eerie feeling just for our state of affairs, he won’t be one. 

I need to get the control back or at least a draw. 

But how?

Think, think, think.

Totally lost in my thoughts upon creating a counter strike, I notice the big, gloomy figure behind me first when an arm like a tree trunk hovers over my head to grab something from the supermarket shelf I stand in front of. Irritated by the close proximity of this random person showing up right behind me, I quickly turn around and stare up at a man, who grins like the devil himself. He isn’t looking at me, staring at the grocery he wants from the shelf but that grin. 

I know it is for me and strangely I have the feeling we met before. 

“Well, excuse me”, I mutter, finding it troublesome to have someone in my personal space. 

“You’re excused”, he answers, still not looking at me while examining the ingredients of the product he just grabbed. I feel a shiver down my spine from how low and thorny his voice is, but I try to not get too alarmed as I roll my eyes at his answer. With an offended side stare, I take a step to the side. 

He is tall, not as tall as Satoru but broader, taking up more space in an uncomfortable manner. His arms and even his face are crested in thick, black tattoos. Maybe he has some more all over his body but I won’t ever be able to tell. Sharp facial features with a strong jaw and menacing warm eyes with a reddish hue to them. With his wide smirk still plastered on his face, I shortly doubt myself that the man next to me is human. The teeth are barbed and massive like ones feline predators have. 

“Loser.”

As soon as he adds this word, my head snaps back up. 

Oh my fucking god. He is real.

The memories of him hit me like a ton of bricks.

Tokyo, Japan, my first world championship.

The year before I won second place at the junior world championship, ending my streak of first places. 

It was devastating. 

Surely once being second place isn’t the end of the world, but the media at that time was harsh and brutal on me, maybe because I never lost and they finally saw a crack in my perfect facade.

I was 16 and read articles saying from now on I will only get worse. 

And I wasn’t even at the Olympics. 

It felt like my entire career had no meaning and I should just quit altogether. The questions I got asked ripped me mentally into pieces as I answered them with a fake smile, ready to cry once the cameras were away. Mei Mei and my mother tried to cheer me up, telling me not to listen to such bullshit. 

Figure skating is one of the most competitive sports. Each year the athletes are getting younger and breaking more limits and record after record.

Time doesn’t stop for anyone and it certainly doesn’t for athletes. I was crying for 2 days in my room calling myself old and worn-out.

Truly the joys of being an athlete. 

I refused to step on the ice for over a month until my mother had enough and took my phone and computer away, forcing me back on the rink. 

For her there wasn’t any other outcome. One day I would win gold in the Olympics. 

Her dream for me.

But for that dream to come true, I must skate again.

And I did, reluctantly. 

As if I ever had a choice in this matter. With an overly ambitious mother and my competitive mindset which was thrilled into my head as soon as I took my first step on the ice.

However, let's go back to the World Championship. 

All eyes were on me and I felt it in my strangled veins. I was never so nervous and insecure on ice before. 

I’m never insecure on ice. Skating is like breathing for me. 

And who would ever be insecure about breathing?

You get time slots when you can enter the rink for training before the competition. I waited for my turn at the lobby, getting myself warmed up. Championships lure all kinds of people into one place and mostly other athletes. It is good press to be interested in other sports and showing support, but most athletes do it for a bit of media coverage in between their seasons. 

I used to love watching swimming competitions, always finding it nice to see the contrast from ice skating. 

Hard ice against soft water. Coldness against warmth. 

So it wasn’t a surprise to see other athletes or just random celebrities in the hall. 

I remember him. As tall as in the present but not as broad. Younger but still sharp features and already tattoos on his arms. Overall an extremely good-looking man. 

He talked with reporters, grinning mischievous. 

I was amazed like most of the other girls. 

To be honest, to amaze me at that time, you just had to look at me at least once and open a door for me. Both things he did.

My seventeen years old brain was going haywire and you can definitely blame my mother for it. I barely had any time for friends, so meeting boys wasn’t even a theme to begin with. The only talk I really had with her was when I got my period and she instantly made an appointment to get me an IUD.

Her dream ended with her pregnancy. She wouldn’t allow the same thing to happen to me.

Granted, I never questioned her. For me it was normal to concentrate all my energy on skating. 

Mei Mei always told me ‘now you are a figure skater and when you retire you will be a human again’.

Insane, right?

But I lived by that statement, focusing on skating entirely.

Just not on that day. I watched him like a hawk, walking around with a dozen people around him and taking picture after picture. 

Just who was he?

I couldn’t google it because my mother still had my phone and asking wasn’t in my repertoire. 

He noticed my glances. It wasn’t like I was subtle with it. I did everything to occupy my mind with something other than skating and losing again. 

On the outside I seemed cool and collective, Mei Mei and my mother truly thought I was over the Junior Championship, but mentally I was a sinking ship, just one more crash against an iceberg away from becoming a wreck. 

And just a few hours later I became one. 

On that day less than 24 hours before the competition. I was on the ice, going over my routine.  

I fell, not once, not twice, I fell so often I stopped counting. Mei Mei screamed at me, my mother completely shocked on why I performed this way. 

Reporters aren’t allowed on the tribune while athletes are training in their time slots but people with VIP-passes can enter and he seemed to have one. He watched me fall and fall again with that creepy smile on his face. I tried to blend him out and it worked. 

Like I said before, glances don’t bother me. I am used to being watched. Only Satoru managed to make me giddy.

Not even twenty minutes into my training I fucked up my signature triple axel, bending my ankle so hard I could hear my ligaments snatch, overstretching to the maximum. I was lucky they didn’t rip. 

I bit my teeth hard together and managed to leave the rink, stomping past Mei Mei and my mother, who wanted me back on ice. They didn’t know about my ligaments, just thinking I landed poorly but if I could still skate, it wasn’t so bad, right?

Right.

Telling them with gritted teeth that I need some time for myself I went into my locker room, where I just sat down and stared at the wall for minutes, emotionless. 

The blood pulsating in my feet, I knew once I put the skates off it would be bad. With shaky hands I opened them and stared at my ankle. Swollen already and I knew it would bruise. 

My mother would not allow me to skate like this. She is strict but not a lunatic. If I land one more time incorrectly without the ligaments fully healed, they will snap completely and my career is over. 

But I needed, no, I wanted the World Champion title.

Now or never. I didn’t want to wait another year.  

Another year would mean one year older, one year nearer my retirement. 

I wanted to cry but nothing came out. 

Eventually with an injury like this, I must have accepted that my career was ending. 

I just wasn’t good enough for the Olympics.

There is no shame to it. A lot of athletes never make it.

I instantly kick these thoughts in the butt. No, it isn’t over. I can do this. I will not fall tomorrow at the competition. I will win. I can take care of my ankle after the competition. It will fully heal. 

I knew it. 

It was nearly 10 years ago, so I don’t quite remember how long I was alone with my thoughts as the door opened and someone stepped in. I remember I sighed, madly trying to hide the swelling with a towel thrown over it. I expected my mother or Mei Mei to be the ones bothering me, but it was him with a big fat grin sitting on his face.

Throughout the conversation we were going to have his grin stayed on, sometimes fading or growing. But one thing is engraved in my brain like an antibiotic resistant parasite. His first words to me. Simple, but so world shattering to me. 

“Hey, Loser.”

He called me what I was truly thinking of myself at that moment, but never dared to acknowledge. 

Nevertheless I couldn’t believe someone would call me that. Before I even had the chance to tell him to fuck himself and get lost, he kept on talking. Along the lines of he knows torn ligaments when he sees them happening.

Staring him down I should have told him to leave my cabin, instead I said: “They aren’t torn, just on the edge of it.” 

I removed the towel and leaned over to my bag, taking out sport tapes. With a smile I babbled more to myself: “I had worse.”

Confidence is the key but my act didn’t work on him. He just leaned against the wall in front of me, not believing a single word by the way he looked at me. 

As I started to pull my legging up and begin sticking the tapes down, he clicked his tongue in disbelief. 

“By the way this is a private cabin.”, he ignored my words and with two big steps, he was right in front of me, taking the tapes out of my hand and muttering curses to himself. 

Mercilessly he grabbed my lower leg and stretched it out, my feet staying on his hard chest. It hurt like hell and I yelped, which gained me a side eye and something along the lines of ‘stop being a fucking pussy’. 

Usually I would say something snarky back, but I didn’t dare with him. Instead I just murmured: “I know how to tape myself.”

He only snorted mockingly at that and started to tape my ankle. If this guy is one thing, it definitely isn’t gentle. He applied the tape with such force, it felt like he wanted me to bruise even more. Still, I bit my teeth and let him do it. In between taping he started to talk to me: “I had the same thing once, so I know what to do.” 

My ankle was covered in tape in the pattern of a spiderweb. He talked to me like a ruthless trainer, who ignores the health of his athlete. 

“Keep the ankle cold under any circumstance, even if it feels like dying or you don’t feel anything at all.” 

Then he took a normal bandage and wrapped it around, tightly, telling me not to open it until after the competition. It will swell even worse and probably needs more time to heal, but at least I could be on the ice. 

Then he told me the same truth I already knew. 

“If you fall, it is over”, he snickered: “maybe it would be better anyway. To just end your foolish career.”

I knew, if I fall with this injury, it is truly over. Knowing it is one thing, but hearing someone else say it out loud shook my back into reality. 

“I won’t fall”, I told him without a doubt in my voice, ignoring his mean remarks. Bare teeth blinded my eyes as he laughed. 

“Just making sure you know your fate.”

Asshole.

“Why even help me if I will fail?”, I bit back. He shrugged his shoulders.

“I like being surprised.”

What a fucking weirdo.  

He pulled out his wallet and showed me a pill, asking if I already had my urine test. I nodded and looked skeptical at the pill. I do a lot of things to win, but I don’t take drugs. Seeing my suspicious scowl he told me: “It’s just a heavy painkiller.”

My scowl deepens. Painkillers are allowed, so why would he ask about my urine test?

He could read my mind like an open book.

"Prescribed.”

If they find a substance from a prescribed pill in my urine, I would need a doctor's note, so his question made sense. 

Well, that certainly didn’t sound better, and fine, I trusted him with my ankle but I wouldn’t take a pill from him. For all I knew he could be lying and giving me drugs. He rolled his eyes as I didn’t take it like I am stupid or something for not trusting him. Quite the contrary, I thought I was pretty smart for it. 

So I asked him: “Who are you even?”

All I got was a doubting laugh with furrowed brows like I am a fool for not knowing him. Based on my confused face he understood quickly I really had no clue and a devious smile grew back on his face. 

“I am.. Yuji.”, he states with a pause in between like he forgot what his own name is: “I play for the Japanese national basketball team.”

Nevertheless I was hesitant. Surely he was tall enough to be a basketball player but why was he here? 

Duh, why did I go to the swimming World cups? To be seen. 

Still I wouldn’t take a pill from him. 

I crossed my arms like a sulking child and shook my head. 

The air around him switched. To be honest he wasn’t in a friendly mood to begin with but now it changed drastically. 

He explained why he was even here to begin with. How he extra came for me to the Championship and how it was such a pain for his team to get him a VIP-pass.

All that for me to be a pathetic loser, who falls. He criticized my speed, my jumps and my overall form. It was like talking to all my worst critics combined. He didn’t sugarcoat one bit. His words were brutal and unforgiving. 

How he gave me a chance to get my title back and get Gold again, just for me to not accept it. How much he hates wasted potential and I am the embodiment of it. A silly little pathetic loser, blessed with genetic talent but no drive. 

I pushed myself up, feeling a slight sting in my leg, but didn’t mind. 

How dare he? He doesn’t know shit about me. As if his fucking pill would be my path to Gold. No, I didn’t care about the pain, I could ignore it. 

But I couldn’t ignore his attitude anymore. What did he even want from me? He didn’t know anything about me. We never talked before, nothing. I was angry. Angry at him and angry at me for allowing him from the beginning to talk down to me.

“Get the fuck out of my cabin!”, I hollered, but he didn’t move, smiling like my anger meant nothing to him and rather amused him, if not turning him on. 

“Or what?”

Yeah, fuck that or what? Honestly there was nothing I could do against a guy like this. I bet even if I hit him, it wouldn’t affect him, probably again just turning him on. 

“I will make sure they take your VIP-pass away”, oh my god, that was pathetic. Looking back I cringe at myself, but that’s all I could do. 

Another deep laugh.

“Do it, this whole thing is a waste of my time anyway. I thought I would see some great talents, but all I see is a whiny slut.”

I should be afraid but I wasn’t. I was just angry.

“I am a lot but not whiny.”

“No denying on the slut part, I see.”

I roll my eyes. I didn’t even have my first kiss at that time, but he didn’t have to know. 

“It’s not worth commenting”, I fired back. 

Suddenly everything happened so quickly, I barely had time to register anything as he grabbed my jaw with his large hand and squeezed my cheeks together. 

“I bet it turns you on being called all these degrading words”, he lowers his face to mine, nose on nose with a demonic grin plastered on his face. 

I’m a winner. Degradation doesn’t turn me on. It makes my blood boil. Sadly wrath and lust often go hand in hand, but I would never let him know. 

“I beg to differ”, I tear my face out of his grip. 

“Then prove me wrong, loser.”, his grip traveled to my throat, holding me in place, not wanting me to look away from his challenge. I didn’t waver my glance from his dark eyes. 

He leant in closer to my face, waiting for me to break away first but I kept my eyes on him, even as his lips nearly brushed mine. 

Never in my life was I more happy to be interrupted by my mother as we heard a knock on the door. Slowly, still with a wide smile on his face, he let go of me like nothing happened and put the pill in my hand. In a swift motion he walked to another exit like he had no care in the world while I was frozen into place. 

My mother came into the cabin and talked to me, but I didn’t listen. All I had in my mind was him and how to prove him fucking wrong. 

And I did, I won Gold the next day.

With the worst pain ever in my leg I stood on the pedestal, waving with a bitter smile into the camera. 

I saw him during my performance but not at the award ceremony. 

Who is the loser now?

I bet he thought I couldn’t bring it. Wanted me to fall and fail, crying on national TV over my career ending. 

Wrong slut, motherfucker. 

However as soon as I was backstage, my leg gave in. My mother caught me and Masamichi carried me to a private cabin. 

I didn’t take his pill. I didn’t need his help. 

I won on my own. 

When my mother took my skate off my foot I screamed, nearly blacking out. Mei Mei looked at the bandages around my ankle.

“Who did this?”, she asked furious, now understanding why I didn’t let them near my skates to fix them before my performance.

“I did it.”

“Don’t lie to me, you idiot!”

My mother proceeded to unwrap my ankle, feeling like she skinned my foot alive. 

“This is a military binding technique! It is made to stabilize a dying foot so the soldier can move forward.”

“It did the job”, I muttered back in a delirious state of pain.

“You are so stupid! It is for a dying foot! With this technique they don’t want to save the foot, they just want stabilization for a moment before it will be amputated!”

I didn’t really register her words, all I had in my mind was the Gold medal around my neck and the cold metal against my chest as I fainted.

I woke up in the hospital, my foot held up by some strings and tubes pumping a liquid into it. 

The pain was bearable, but my foot felt heavy and numb. 

I looked over and saw my mother sitting in a chair. She didn’t look happy like most mothers would be once their child woke up after fainting. 

“What the hell did you think?”

I thought nothing to be frank. I did as he told me and it worked. It worked perfectly. I won Gold. My lucky streak would be back. 

“I did what I had to do to win”, I replied.

“You could have not only lost your career as a figure skater, you could have lost your foot!”

“But I didn’t.”

“Don’t act smart with me now!”

“I am the world champion, mom.”

“I don’t care.”

“You do, you only ever cared about that.”

“That is not true.”

I stared at her with a tired but fierce expression. If she wanted to tell herself that, she could do it. I wouldn’t stop her. Making herself feel like she was the mother of the century. 

If I had shown her my foot, yeah, she would have said no to the competition but I would have gotten the silent treatment for weeks. 

Like getting an injury is my fault. For her it would be. 

Because how dare me to fail her dream. 

She put so much energy into me. Imagine it all failing.

What a waste of time. All for a loser like me.

Certainly I have shown in this performance I am not a loser. My performance was worthy of the Olympics and I would go to them the coming year and win Gold too. 

I am a fucking winner. The whole world is going to know my name.

Everything felt unreal. My career wasn’t over. If my foot wasn’t going to fully recover my mother would have told me instantly instead of trying to lecture me. 

I softly chuckled to myself, thinking about him. At this moment of delusion I truly thought I owe this motherfucker my career.

“Right now you look just like your father”, she said quietly: “I don’t recognize you.”

Still in my trance I tilted my head to my mother and just sputtered: “At least I am not a loser like you.”

The moment I said it was the moment I regretted it. Before I had the chance to apologize, she was out of the room, leaving me alone. 

No, I was wrong. I didn’t owe him my career, he only took part in creating a new part of my personality. An irrational and cruel one. 

He made me the cunt I am. 

For years I thought he was a ghost I created myself. Like part of my hidden personality came out the moment I nearly gave up and brutally dragged me back on the ice. 

To kick me even harder at my lowest point and either leave me there or make me get back up. 

I never apologized to my mother, but I got my phone and computer back and she acted like nothing happened, training me for the Olympics once my foot was back to normal. I lost two months of training because of my injury and the binding technique, but it didn’t matter. I knew whatever would come in between the Olympics and me would be demolished. I was never going to give up. 

He was a mystery I didn’t want to solve. I could have googled him, but I didn’t. I liked the idea of him just being a weird imagination of mine to get back on track. 

But now he is standing next to me in the cereal aisle of a small town supermarket and I am sure he is not a projection of my mind. He is real. 

“I know you are but what am I?”, I croak back, my voice lost in my throat. 

“You are witty, I will give you that.”, he chortles, cracking a smile: “But I take it back, you certainly aren’t a loser.”

“So don’t call me that.”

“Pet names take time to form, I wasn’t expecting to meet you here in the middle of nowhere. So I don’t have one up my sleeve.”

Me neither to the meeting part, but why does it feel like he is lying. Like he knew I would be here. 

“How about my real name?”

“Nah, way too impersonal.”, god, the way he is so presumptuous is kind of alluring in the best way possible. Must be me, I seem to have a soft spot for cocky bastards. 

“Well, we aren’t exactly friends.”

He turns with a full on grin to me, the one I dreamed about for months. The one I see in my mind before entering a competition.

“You are right.”, he added my name: “But I will still think of something new, something fitting.”

I can’t fucking wait for it.

“What would you say is the perfect gift for an old friend you haven’t seen in a while?”, he drags me out of my empty thoughts: “Not for you. You stated we aren’t friends, right?”

“Right”, I stutter back: “I guess it depends on the friend.” 

I try to act nonchalantly, but I feel like failing.  

That answer earned me a slight chuckle from him. I decide it would be best to ignore him and just continue my purchase, walking down the aisle, but the looming shadow doesn’t leave me. 

“A friend who isn’t a friend at all.”

This sentence piqued my interest. 

“Still not for you”, he adds, but I wasn’t even thinking that. 

“Then why buy a gift?”, I ask, allowing him to keep the conversation going as he walks through the fruit section with me. I am glad we are in a public space filled with people. Alone with him again, I would not survive. 

“Just for courtesy. He had a rough time”, subtle information but nothing sturdy to grab onto.

His grin is going to kill me. I feel like a flight animal in the headlights of a predator. 

“Wine always works”, I answer politely and curse myself still giving him partially my attention. 

The curse of being a woman, always civil to uncivil men. 

A loud laugh echoes through the aisle before it abruptly ends, his sharp teeth still showing. 

“Not a bad idea, but alcohol isn’t his thing”, he states: “anymore.”

I frown but end up not thinking further about his oddity as I see a box of chocolates and instantly think of Satoru. How he asked me for a ‘thank you’ card and a box of chocolates for his ‘help’. A dumb tease from his side but in my head the cogs start to turn. 

Round and round for a counter strike. I place the box in my shopper with a grin similar to the one from him. 

Fuck, he really created a part of me. 

“Chocolates always work as well”, I babble back, before turning serious. “What brought you to this city?”

“Oh, just a quick stop before visiting my friend, who isn’t really my friend.”

For whatever reason the way he talks and acts is enthralling. I know he isn’t a good person but he has a certain aura that not a lot of people have. A confident one, but ready to be able to back it up. I should have googled him. I should have to see if he has some achievements to back up his brash attitude towards me all those years ago. 

I can’t shake off the feeling that something isn’t quite right. 

“Seems like fate that we meet again”, if it is even possible his grin got bigger. 

“You also thought it would be my fate to fall and call quits, but here we are. Coincidences happen.”

Yes, our meeting years ago and now, they are just coincidences. Nothing more and nothing less.

“Oh, little devil I don’t believe in just coincidences.”

“Don’t call me that!”, I turned sharply around to him. He holds up his hands in a mocking way.

“Calm your tits.”

“Why did you call me that?”

“Because you are a bratty, little devil”, I ignore the sexual undertone in his words. It clicked instantly like finding the right puzzle piece. 

“Are you a Devils fan?”, I ask, taking another step back. He steps forward, looking down on me.

“Nah”, he chuckles roughly: “I am not into Ice Hockey.”

Fuck, I can’t tell if he is lying or not. He is as unreadable as Satoru. He is so indifferent, so detached, it is hard to see what his intentions are. For a second I just want to yell at him: ‘What do you want from me!?’ but I calm down and just continue my purchase, feeling his presence still in my neck.

“Mind if we take a picture together?”

I turn towards him, looking him up and down with my eyebrows pulled together. He laughs lightly, sounding friendlier. 

“Against whatever skepticism is playing in your head, I was always a fan of you.”

“You had a great way to show your support”, I instantly built my guards up around him.

“I think so too”, he ignores my obvious sarcasm. 

That fucking evil grin again as he pulls out his phone and hands it to a lady next to us, asking her to take a picture. Before I even register it, he is next to me, slinging his massive arm around my shoulder and yanks me towards him. Looking up he has a big grin on his face while I probably look startled as hell. 

Everything just happens so fast again, like I am back in the cabin. I couldn’t even agree as he took the phone back from the lady.

“Thank y-”, he starts, but I butt in: “I didn’t ag-”

“You smell good, what’s your perfume?”, he interrupts me too. I’m too confused to finish my other sentences as I just ask: “Why?”

“That friend, who isn’t really my friend, has a new girlfriend. I want to give her something too.” 

I tell him the perfume I use and walk straight to the register, just wanting to get away. He should have fucking stayed a ghost. 

I don’t try to gnaw on it too much as I put my groceries down. Eyeing a ‘thank you’ card, I quickly put it next to my groceries.

“Got a boyfriend?”, he asks without giving me a second look as he puts his stuff on the conveyor belt too.

“I actually do”, I snarl back, not amused at all by his behavior. I should have never answered his questions in the first place, just acting like I have no idea who he is. On the other hand it is hard to overlook the person who played such a big role in my career. 

He could have been the ending but he was the crucial part to my new beginning. Because of him I had the chance to retire when I wanted to. Two Olympic Gold medals. I ended my career in the best moment, at its peak. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”, I state affirmatively. 

“Someone I would know?”

What kind of dumb question is that?

It seems more likely that he isn’t believing me and just wants to make sure I am not lying. 

I owe him a lot in a cruel way, but I would never fall so low to ever date him. Regardless, I have a contract with Satoru and I will not waver. 

For the time being Satoru is my priority. 

At least this question gives me a little relief. If he doesn’t know about Satoru and me, he really isn’t an Ice Hockey fan. Good, one less worry.

“Well, can’t tell if you know him but Satoru Gojo”, I mutter, hoping it will be enough to get him off my back and leave me alone. I give the cashier my card and pay for my stuff. 

“It doesn’t ring a bell”, he laughs, his eyes following my every move. 

“Then you must live behind the moon”, I retorted and grabbed my groceries.

“Maybe, or he isn’t just that important”, he says with a shrug: “anymore.”

I foolishly neglect his reply and just walk out of the store towards my car. All I want is to get away from this person. From my past. 

Once I sit in my car, everything comes crashing down on me. My hands shake and I feel panic rising inside of me. I shouldn’t drive in this emotional state, but I need to leave the parking lot. Away from him. Far away and praying that I will never see him again. 

My mothers words come back into my brain. I could have lost my foot. 

Because of him. 

He is dangerous. 

In the end I will never know if I had made history at the Olympics if I had told him to fuck off and leave me alone, not skating at the world championship. No one will know. By all means I could have recovered out of my insecurities alone and won a year later. Everything is possible.

But I did what I did and he did what he did. Risking your own career is one thing, but being a driving force in risking others, problematic. 

Additionally to his acting of ‘fixing’ my ankle, his words were a big part in my win too. His degradation towards me made me want to prove him wrong. As soon as I stepped on the ice I wanted him to look at me and see me win. 

Full circle back to my weaknesses. I care too much about what people think of me. It shouldn’t have mattered what an unknown man claims about me. 

Yet it did to me. 

Cut that crap! I will change. This is my second new beginning. 

With that I start my car and drive off, not looking back. 

I arrive at the rink hall, taking my groceries with me as I walk to the front door. Seeing Satoru waiting for me from afar makes my heart flutter. 

I am safe now from the ghost of my past. 

He grins widely, nothing evil behind it. Just Satoru. 

I step towards him, he takes my bags from me as I don’t stop getting nearer. Pressing my face in his chest, I sling my arms around him and just breathe in. He never saw me as a loser. He always treated me like an equal. 

“What’s wrong?”, he lightly chuckles and puts one of his large hands on my head, patting me like I have seen him pat my cat Todo. His chest quakes from his laughter and it feels good. It feels safe. Satoru knows me and at least some of my weaknesses and he is still here.

“I just saw a ghost”, I mumble, which earns me another quiver from him. 

“A ghost?”

“Yes, but he is gone now and will never come back.”

“Did you fall on your head or something?”

Slight concern is in his voice. I look up to him with a cheeky smile. 

“I got something for you”, taking a step back, I grab my bags from Satoru and rummage inside of one of them. It is too full, so I take a pack of baby carrots out and hand it to him to just hold while I keep on searching.

“Wow, I love baby carrots!”, he says with way too much enthusiasm. They aren’t his surprise, but I couldn’t resist my next tease: “Why, do they remind you of something?”

He laughs and we both grin at each other. 

“I don’t have a baby carrot and you know it”, he adds: “As I recall it, you were afra-”

“Yeah, yeah I know! Don’t remind me, idiot.”

Satoru would love nothing more to remind me again of our night together, but I 

keep him quiet by switching the baby carrots in his hand with a box of chocolates. 

“Sorry to disappoint, but the baby carrots are for the kids later.”

“Kids?”, he frowns and looks at the new item in his hand. His brain is rattering to figure out why I give him chocolates. 

“Yeah, the skating students you happily agreed on training for me. Did you forget?”

The frown on his face deepens and soon enough he groans. 

“Do I really have to do this?”

“You promised.”

“Lie, I never did.” “Well, you said to Suguru that you promised me, so it is kind of a promise.”

Another groan, which makes me feel flustered, growing a bit hot in certain areas.

“Suguru and I will be there too.”, a small smile forms on his lips. 

“Fine.”, he pouts and rolls his eyes, but I know he is just acting bothered: “But if you leave me alone for one second I will be mad.”

“I would never.”, I reply with a soft nod. 

I take the ‘thank you’ card out of my bag and his brain is catching up to the premise. His pout turns into a knowing smirk. 

“Do you have your wallet on you?”

He knows what I want. 

“Always”, he hands me a pen out of his pocket. I open the card and go behind Satoru, using his broad back as a table to write on. He is nice enough to lean slightly forward as I scribble something down. I put the card into the envelope and 

wet the glue strip with my spit to close it. Once I am finished I hand it back to him with a big smile.

“Thank you, partner”

He is all smiles and dimples as he takes the card from me.

“It was my pleasure”, he sticks the box of chocolates under his armpit and rips the envelope open to read my message. 

Dear Satoru,

thank you for fucking my insecurity away ❤️

Sincerely followed by my signature autograph.  

By the way he looks at me, I am one more step closer to finally get him to open up to me. A step closer to get our situation ruled out as a draw.

He puts the card back into the envelope and looks at me with tomato red cheeks. I gasp at this sight. 

I managed to make the Satoru Gojo speechless with his own shenanigans! The ‘thank you’ card and box of chocolates were his idea after all.

“I got you blushing!”, I can not not make him even more embarrassed. This is the chance of a lifetime. I will wallow in it like a piggy in fresh mud. 

“Shut up”, he turns his face away, but I take his beautiful face in between my hands to make him look at me. 

A mistake because from the way he looks at me, he got me blushing now. I feel like in this moment we are just one more heartbeat away from kissing each other but as if god sent an angel to save me from my disgrace, the front door swings open and Suguru emerges. I let go of Satoru and took a step back, looking at Suguru now.

“There you are”, he nods at Satoru, not noticing me at first. I have never seen such an expression on Sugurus face. A grimace, a pissed off grimace.

“We need to talk.”

The last twenty minutes I spent on the tribune, next to Shoko as we watched Satoru and Suguru hammer pucks into the goal. 

“Men”, Shoko sighs next to me: “Can’t handle their emotions so they have to act them out.”

I agree with her. 

The situation they found themself in isn’t ideal but I don’t get the fuss. Toji Fushiguro didn’t sign an extension contract for the Rangers. It was a surprise but they could have seen it coming. Greedy athletes always change their team, especially if money is on the line. And if I learned one thing about Toji during my research, he loves money.

Surely losing a player is always shitty, but I looked into the entire team. There are so many good other players. He won’t be missed. At least I thought so, but as I voiced it Suguru looked at me with an offended glare and said I have no idea about Ice Hockey, so I kept my mouth shut from that point and just let them work it out on their own. 

It was better anyway to stay out of this, because my father decided to make Toji an offer of a lifetime and he will be playing for the Devils from now on. Once Suguru mentioned this to Satoru, I got the death stare, like I have something to do with the shit my father does. 

So I banished myself on the bench next to Shoko, now watching two grown men trying to see who can destroy their ice hockey stick the fastest. 

“Want something from the vending machine?”, Shoko asks me.

“Nah, I’m good, but here”, I hand her my keys: “Just open it and take what you want.”

“You will never get those keys back.”, she declares and I one hundred percent believe her. “I will not forget about them.”, I respond with a light smile, but she just waves me off and walks away.

As I watch them play or whatever the hell they are doing, I regret not unfollowing Toji on Satorus account in first place. 

With a big stretch I get up and decide to finally intervene. They could do this for hours to no end, but in around two hours ten kids will be here for their skating course and I can’t have two sulking men train them. 

I step on the ice being totally ignored by the two of them. Granted, I am the enemy right now, well, I have half the DNA of their enemy. 

“Does it really matter that he left?”

Both of them tilt their heads to me with an annoyed expression. I hold my hands up in defense.

“Like, is he stronger than you?”, I ask Satoru.

“No.”, a prompt answer.

“So it doesn’t matter.”, I get eye rolls from them - synchronous. 

“Ice hockey is a team sport.”, Suguru tells me like I don’t know. 

“Okay, and? What about the others? Aren’t they good enough?”

“That’s not the-”, I don’t let Suguru finish.

“Hakari never missed the goal, Higuruma always has a solid strategy, Kusakabe has one of the greatest defenses, Ino is an allround talent, Choso never misses a pass”, I pause, but add: “And Nanami just won the award for best goalie.”

They are a lot more players, but I decided to just go with the main ones. Both Satoru and Suguru stare at me like I am a freak.

“You learned about the team?”, Satoru asks, astonished.

“Yeah, for you”, I answer and oh boy, I didn’t mean for it to sound so tender, even corny. 

“I mean, you know I should kind of know your team, right? Like it would be weird if a reporter asks me something and I have no clue, right?”, too many rights. I cross my arms and act nonchalant, looking everywhere but at Satorus plaguing and all-knowing grin. Suguru just peeks between Satoru and me before rolling his eyes but with a small smile. 

“Anyway”, I try to get back on track: “Both of you are so occupied at being mad at a person who left your team for money, that you are the ones acting like Ice Hockey isn’t a team sport.”

According to wikipedia Toji is one of the best Ice Hockey players alive right now, but I certainly don’t need to mention this right now. 

“You are right, we don’t need him to win the Stanley cup”, Satoru announces after a while of skeptical glimpses between Suguru and himself. 

“Still he knows all the weaknesses of our team members”, Suguru thinks out loud: “and he knows the relationship between you two is fake.”

Shit, I forgot about that part.

“But like every other teammate he had to sign a document, he isn’t allowed to disclose that.”

“Come on, Satoru, don’t be dumb. He will never publicly state it but he will tell his new team and they will do anything to use it against you.”

“Let them try”, I chirp in: “we are smarter than them.”

I will end up regretting these words.

Satoru seems confident as well, giving me a thumbs up with a big smile. Only Suguru isn’t convinced.

“If everything goes down”, I skate to him and take his stick: “I can always take Tojis spot on the team.”

I hit the puck and scored. 

“Natural talent”, Satoru grins.

“Yeah, sadly it is in my blood”, I shrug my shoulders, looking at his beaming smile. I am glad I got them to stop overthinking. At least for now. If they want they can have a sleepover and keep sulking the entire night. For now I want them to be ready for the skating course later. 

As I was thinking of a way to cheer up Suguru, Shoko shrieks from the tribune. We all looked at her like she got bitten by a spider. 

“You gotta be kidding me!”, see, I will regret my words.

“What’s up, Choco-Shoko”, Satoru skates towards the brim of the rink, followed by Suguru and me. Normally Shoko would glare daggers at Satoru for this name, but she is too occupied staring at her phone. 

She alters her stare and looks with an open mouth at me before stuttering: “I have a girl problem.”

“A what?”, Suguru asks confusedly, staring at Satoru, who seems as perplexed. 

“I need you, now, outside”, she points at me and I just comply, stepping out the rink and stomping behind her with my skates still on. As soon as we exit the rink hall and enter the corridor, she turns around and holds her phone too close to my face to see. 

“Can you explain this?”

“Shoko, I can’t see anything like this”, I push her hand down and focus on the screen. 

It is a picture. 

Not any picture. 

It is the picture from the supermarket.

The picture of Yuji and me. 

The ghost isn’t gone. 

But they don’t know anything about my past with him. For what it looks like he is just a fan taking a picture with me. 

“What’s the problem, Shoko? He just asked for a picture in the supermarket”, I tilt my head, acting confused and certainly I am a bit. 

“You know who this is, right?”, she proceeds to press the phone again in my face.

“Shoko, stop”, I take a step back: “again, he was just asking for a picture. I didn’t ask for his ID or anything.”

Why do I have the feeling I made a huge mistake. 

Why can’t this ghost stay in my past? 

Shoko looks at me like I am a pink elephant wearing a tutu. 

“You really have no idea?”

“No, I told you, he just asked for a picture.”

Who the hell is he?

Yuji, the pro basketball player. Did he have a scandal I don’t know about and taking a picture with him wasn’t a good move. 

Well, lack of knowledge doesn’t save you from backlash, but Shoko acts like someone posted a video of me skinning puppies alive. 

“Short and sweet, this is Satorus mortal enemy on and off the ice.”

Shoko explains dryly: “And you better run, because if Satoru sees this, he will use your bones to make a new Ice Hockey stick.”

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

Mortal enemy?

On the ice?

That motherfucker is an Ice Hockey Player!

I grab her phone and click on his profile. 

Sukuna Ryomen. Not Yuji.

Ice Hockey. Not basketball.

Center player for the New Jersey Devils. No fucking way.

What kind of fuckery is this? 

I feel like the last few days I got way too many situations like this, where I just get thrown under the bus, but this, this is next level shit. 

He lied to me years ago and kept the lie running. 

Well, I decided to play in his cards by not googling him. 

Keeping him a mystery, a ghost. 

Great idea, now he is back and alive, ready to jump me like a lion a gazelle. He kind of did that already. 

I don’t care about Satorus hatred against him. For now.

All I think about is why he was at the stadium years ago!?

Was he sent by my father? According to his profile, he was already playing for the Devils at that time. 

What is doing on? 

The binding technique, the unknown pill. 

Sabotage.

He truly was there to sabotage me. To end my career. 

One hundred percent did my father send him. 

I was getting more and more media coverage at that time. After all, I was a candidate for the Olympics. My father got asked more and more questions about me. He surely knew how to ignore them, but they must have bothered him. So much so that he sent someone over to sabotage my career. To end it and then he would have never heard of me again. 

It all made sense. 

But his little trick didn’t work, it did the opposite. 

Oh, he must have been so pissed. So pissed seeing me win and a few weeks later announcing that I will be skating for the Olympics. 

Definitely a vein popped in his forehead. 

The door swings open loudly as it crashes against the wall.

“Here we go.”, Shoko takes her phone out of my hand and steps backwards, seemingly wanting to escape whatever is coming our way.

Satoru with his head tilted forwards, angry like a bull seeing red. 

Fitting, I have a red pilates set on.

Behind him Suguru tries to entangle Satoru in a conversation, but it doesn’t work. Satoru stops right in front of me and I would do everything for him to just scream at me and get it over with, instead he is so calm. 

Calm like the sea before a tsunami.

“What is this?”, he shows me the same picture I just saw a second ago on Shokos phone.

“Let me explain.”

“What is there to explain? You took a cute little picture with Sukuna. Anything else I need to know?”, he gestures with his hand fastly, something I have never seen him do before: “Like have you given him a quick update on how my recovery is going or I don’t know, fucked him.”

I was expecting a lot of accusations but fucking him. 

“Satoru”, Suguru chimes in, in a warning tone, but even he is looking at me like I did skin puppies alive.

Satoru ignores him completely, just staring at me. His height was always intimidating but now it is fucking terrifying.

But I am too stubborn and actually really hurt by his accusation, especially the last one. I will not allow someone to talk down on me again. I have changed.

“Yes Satoru, right between the bananas and the apples in the fruit aisle”, the moment I said it, the moment I regretted it. Satoru is so irrational right now, he would take everything seriously. He snorts with a menacing smile forming on his face. 

“I see, no denying.”

Different approach. 

“Listen, I just told Shoko I had no idea who he is. He just asked me for a picture.”

There is no reason for me to tell him about my past with Sukuna. It has nothing to do with Satoru and the situation I am in. I will keep it to myself. I see no sense in telling him about it and making him probably even angrier for being so foolish to not looking more into that guy who nearly ended my career. 

This is a conflict between my father, Sukuna and me. No need to drag Satoru into this. 

“How stupid do you think I am?”, Satoru replies, not even listening to me: “I fell for your little act of having no clue about Ice Hockey because it made sense, but now it is just getting ridiculous.”

That hurt like hell, worse than my foot inside the binding. 

Yeah, my life is a performance and I act like people want me to. 

But I never acted when it came to Satoru. I tried in the car on our first meeting, but he saw right through me and since I was always myself around him. 

“I was never acting around you and you know it”, tears start to sting in my eyes. 

This is all a big misunderstanding and it could be solved so easily if he just listens. 

“I just want you to tell me the truth and stop wasting my time.”

“Oh, you want the truth? I will give you the truth”, neither Satoru nor I should talk to each other right now. We are too emotional when it comes to the other person, but I am so hurt from his ignorance towards me. How can he not believe me? Whatever rivalry is between Sukuna and him, it goes deep. 

“Even if I was that evil mastermind who lured you into a trap.”, well, fuck I lured him into a trap once, but he did it too! He isn’t a saint either, but to accuse me of working together with a member of my fathers team is too much: “What could I have told Sukuna about you, huh? How all I know about you is readable on your fucking wikipedia page? Because you certainly didn’t tell me anything half the planet doesn’t know about you already!”

I keep holding eye contact with him, even when I feel the tears flowing now. “How I only saw you train for like thirty minutes and I have no idea about your progress? I never asked you or anyone else about your recovery or training plan or I don’t even know what. I have no idea who you truly are.”

He doesn’t answer me, just keeps meeting my eyes, like trying to find something in them so he can doubt me again. 

He doesn’t want to trust me. 

I thought about trust a lot. How I have trouble trusting Satoru, but I kind of disregarded that he might feel the same way about me. Not fully trusting me and with a situation like this. I would have probably reacted the same way. 

One thing is clear, he is hurt as well. 

“Okay, this is getting out of hand”, Suguru steps in between us, tearing our staring contest apart. 

“Both of you need to calm down! Whatever Sukunas intention was by posting this picture, he would probably have a big, fat grin on his face seeing you two go against each other!”, Suguru takes a deep breath. I look at Suguru but I still feel Satorus penetrating stare at me. 

“Toji surely told them about the contract between you two. Sukuna will do everything to throw you off course, Satoru”, he touches Satorus shoulder to get him to listen. 

I hear Shoko sucking in a breath and underlay Sugurus comments: “Suguru is right, it seems like he tries to get under your skin. Sukuna will do everything to keep you from performing your best. I mean he tried a similar play between Suguru and you years ago.”

I give Shoko a questioning glance but she just shrugs her shoulders. Whatever, I know nothing about Satoru anyway, why should it matter what happened years ago between the three of them. 

Yeah, whatever!

All this talk about being a team and partner, fuck it. I don’t care. I was never part of his team to begin with. 

I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care.

But I do care.

The contract means as much to me as I thought it meant to Satoru. It is my chance to come to terms with all that happened in my life. 

My absent father.

My overzealous mother. 

My madly ascent as a figure skater. 

Maybe I should just really call a therapist. 

I should turn around and leave, never looking back and forget the time we had. Just go into my room and lay in my bed, figuring my life out on my own. 

However in the end I am not a quitter. I signed this contract and I will do everything to keep it running. 

Everything is one big misunderstanding and I need to bash this in Satorus head. Of course my feelings are hurt because I feel like I have shown him parts of me no one knows and he didn’t give me anything back. 

But there was a reason why he wanted me as his fake girlfriend. Me and no one else, because we understand each other on a level most can’t relate to. I need to break his walls down, one by one. 

I like to think I had harder challenges. 

Satoru exhales, taking in what Suguru and Shoko said. He rubs his hands over his face, pressing his finger into his eye sockets. 

“I didn’t m- I need a minute”, with that he just leaves, walking to the locker rooms. 

Silence between the three of us. I know Suguru will be the first one to say something, probably telling me to give Satoru some time and everything will work out after a rational talk. 

Not this time, Suguru. This time I will do it my way. 

Without another word I follow Satoru, Suguru calling me from behind to let him be. I don’t listen as I keep walking, storming into the locker room.

“I said I need a minute”, Satoru groans loudly, probably thinking I am Suguru by the way his voice sounds. 

It is like a Deja Vu from another point of view. How he is the one sitting on a bench, mind going haywires and just done with the world as I storm into the room with one thing in mind. Getting him back on track. 

I’m Sukuna and Satoru is me from all those years ago. 

Well, it is debatable what Sukunas true intention was by getting my ass back on the ice, but I know what mine is.  

“Hey, Loser”, I chuckle as I lean against the wall in front of him, looking at him with a grin plastered on my face.

I will use the same tactic Sukuna used on me. I will use Sukunas own weapon to get his mortal enemy back on track, but I will make it better. 

The pure degradation from Sukuna made me go mad. I mean I nearly lost my career alongside my foot. What I would have needed, was a slap in the face to wake up and a gentle kiss after to make me realize I have worth. 

Degradation and praise. 

My weapons are better.

“What did you call me?”

“Want me to repeat it?”

“Yes, say it again”, his voice is so low, I start to get goosebumps and regret my plan. Maybe it doesn’t work on Satoru. Maybe we aren’t as similar, but I remember being mad at Sukuna too, I think I was only more bewildered because I didn’t know him. 

“I said you are a loser”, my confidence slips a bit and he can see it. 

I hate how easily he reads me. 

“Care to elaborate?”, he grins back and yeah, this isn’t going the way it did with Sukuna and me. This bastard is enjoying this.  

I seem to have forgotten that there is one big difference between Satoru and me and this is confidence. 

My confidence outside the rink is all fake, while his’ never leaves. He probably never thought of himself as a loser.

“It is just a bit pathetic, don’t you think?”

Laughter from him, but if you listen closely you can hear the difference between his real one and this one. 

I can pick up a bit of sourness. 

My words got to him. I mean it is probably the first time ever someone talked to him like this. Someone he cares about. 

Tell me what you want, but I know he cares at least a tiny bit about me. He has to for our contract to work. 

“I’m still waiting for the elaboration, princess.”

 I want to roll my eyes. Not even five minutes ago he accused me of being this evil mastermind and now he acts like nothing happened between us, like he can just call me princess and get away with it. 

Okay, I will let him get away with it, but just because I have a more important mission.

“You got all unreasonable and threw a fit because I took an innocent picture with a man I didn’t know was your self-appointed mortal enemy. Hard to believe this is how the legend Satoru Gojo behaves.”

His eyes darkened and I think I overstepped slightly. Well, there is no turning back now. 

What's said is said. 

“You complain about not knowing me, but once I show you a side of me, you complain even more.”

“That’s not what I was complaining about and you know it.”, I sigh and change the theme, because I don’t want to start a discussion about this. 

This conversation is about him, not about my hurt feelings. 

“Anyway, I don’t want to believe this is the real you”, I walk over to him and kneel down in front of him, looking up to meet his damning eyes.

“I don’t believe it. You are smart, smarter than most people I know. You think ahead for your five teammates and know your opponents by heart. You are the fastest, strongest and most versatile player in the NHL. And you are funny and kind in your own way, so don’t tell me the way you just acted out there is part of you. Whatever your issue with Sukuna is, he uses your hatred against him to bring out a part of you that isn’t you. An irrational and cruel loser.”

Sukuna did the same to me and I didn’t even know him prior to that. He made me irrational by playing with my insecurity of losing and made me cruel by the way I ended up talking with my mother. 

All these were my actions and I’m to blame for it, but everything would have turned out differently without him. 

He didn’t make me the person I am today. I will not give him that. The irrational and cruel side he handed me will be bashed once and for all.

I won’t give him credit anymore for giving me my titles. He isn’t the reason I made it to the Olympics. I could have done it on my own, because deep down I had all the strength in myself I needed. I am not a loser.

“Did you google my stats?”, is all he says to me after I told him a lot of nice things about himself. 

“Had to, it is not like you ever told me about yourself or your team”, my mouth turns into a thin line. 

“I’m sorry, I saw red and I overreacted. Suguru, Shoko and you are right. He wants to get inside my head to mess with me.”

“He is afraid you will come back stronger than ever and beat his ass”, now I smile at him and I get a harumph back but with a light smile playing on his lips. 

I would give everything to see him all smiles and dimples again, but it might take time. 

He takes my chin in his hand and looks at me with his intense eyes. 

“I’m really sorry, can you forgive this irrational and cruel loser?” 

“I only see a rational and kind winner in front of me, but sure.”

“You will be the death to me”, he laughs and I’m glad I got the smiles and dimples faster back than expected. 

“Come here”, he slaps on his leg and helps me get back up to sit down on his lap.

A small voice in my mind tells me to ask him if he was jealous of Sukuna in this picture. The fucking part in his accusations was rather random and I first thought it was to just randomly hurt me, but maybe there was a bit of jealousy. I should ask him, tease him about it, but it is going well now, I shouldn’t test my luck. 

Even the best players run out of it and I tested the limits with Satoru enough for one day. 

He pulls me closer and slings his arms around my back, pressing me to his chest and oh, his crotch. 

“I can’t believe you are hard right now.”

I don’t know why I said that outloud but I did. Nuzzling his head into the croak of my neck, he breaths in my hair and chortles. 

“Believe it, it’s the stress.”

“So you are hard 24/7?”

“Only when you are around.”

“You are such a smooth talker”, I giggle and hate myself for the way I react. 

“I think red just turned into my favorite color”, he pushes my hair back to get access to my neck, kissing it softly. I feel his fingers linger on the hem of my tight shirt, ready to pull it over my head.

“Then I should better keep it on so you have more of it.”

He grunts and bites me lightly in the shoulder, sending goosebumps down my spine.

“Let me take it off, okay?”

Instantly I want to do nothing more than nod my head, but a thought crosses my mind. 

“This wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Another grunt. 

“Please don’t tell me you were serious with the one time thing”, he leans back from my neck and looks at me, waiting to accept a rejection. 

I actually was, but now I am not anymore. The problem lies somewhere else. 

“What if someone comes in?”

“A big surprise for them”, he grins widely.

“Not funny”, I roll my eyes: “I’m serious.”

“You are always too serious”, he brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. 

“And you aren’t serious enough. Suguru could come in and catch us.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

I punch his shoulder lightly.

“It does! I don’t want him nor anyone else from the team to know about this”, I wave my finger between Satoru and me back and forth. 

“Not to break your little bubble, but they already know”, I stare with a shocked expression at him, ready to punch him for real this time. 

If he dared to-

“You weren’t exactly quiet the other night and the walls are rather thin.”

Now I wish he would have told them instead, that would be way less embarrassing. I grumble in my hands, hiding my face out of sheer mortification. Satoru just laughs, as always and grabs my hands, pulling them off my face. “It is fine.”

“It is not”, I pout. Is today my personal humiliation day? A new holiday I didn’t know about.

“It really is, princess.”

I didn’t want anyone, especially Suguru, to know I had slept with Satoru. It comes across as extremely incompetent regarding our whole contract. Our entire relationship should have stayed professional. I don’t want to know what Suguru is thinking of me. He had the most trust in me and I ended up sleeping with Satoru not even a few days into the contract. 

I’m weak. At least when it comes to Satoru. 

Wait.

This is the chance. A draw!

There is no insecurity for him to fuck out of my mind. He wants to hook up with me out of sheer fun? Lust? Whatever it is, it will create the draw I so desperately want to have. 

I want to be on equal terms again. 

“But we don’t need to anymore, you know. No more insecurity inside my head.”

Well, no more insecurity regarding looking at him and being close to him. 

“I know, but I just want to be inside you”, he looks at me with a small, pleading pout: “No, I need to be inside you.”

I exhale a steamy breath. He is again at the hem of my shirt, pulling it slightly up, rough fingertips traveling over my skin. 

“Don’t make me beg, unless it turns you on, then I will gladly beg”, his mouth is against my jawline, leaving a trail of kisses and small bites.

I nod and reap a ‘tz’ from him. 

“Give me a clear yes or no.”

I shouldn’t.

“Yes”, and his lips are suddenly on mine, just leaving them for a second as he pulls my top over my head. 

With slightly cold hands he squeezes my breasts, a moan escaping my mouth, which he catches with his. He rolls my already hard nipples between his fingers before choosing the one on the left side to close his lips around and lick. I whimper and lean my head back, giving him even more access as his now unoccupied hand enters my waistband. 

“Angel”, he whispers in my ear: “Get up for a second, we need to get rid of your pants, okay?”

He talks to me like I am slow on the uptake and at this moment I feel like it. I’m in a delicious delirium as I stand up and hold myself up on Satorus shoulders. He gets rid of my pants, not we. In a swift motion he brings me back on his lap and kisses me again, his tongue asking for excess to enter my mouth and I let him with a small sob. I want to open his pants, but he grabs my eager hands quickly. 

“I know we don’t have a lot of time, but you need to be a bit prepared, okay?”, again he talks to me slowly and I just nod, not knowing why we need to be quick. 

…

The skating course!

Dragged out of my delirium I look around for a watch. Satoru catches me scowling and states: “Don’t worry, we still have enough time.”

I pucker my lips for a second but I ended up trusting him, not wanting to call it quits now. 

And no, this isn’t just about me wanting this to. This is all about getting equal again. In my head I mentally make the note to let this really be the last time. After this Satoru and I will just be partners like we are in a law firm. 

Before I can even write the note mentally down, the thought is gone as he wets two of his fingers with his tongue before stuffing them inside my mouth too. I twirl my tongue around them too as he pulls them back out with a blop. With his other hand, he grabs my butt and slightly lifts me up as I kneel on his lap. 

Then he creeps his fingers at a slow pace up and down in between my fold to gather slick. I lean forward and lift myself a bit more up to give him better excess. Steady but so, so, so slowly he enters me. His thumb is drawing soft circles on my clit while he starts to move his fingers in and out. So slow like we are in no hurry, like he wants to torture me. 

“Please Satoru, faster”, I cry in his ear.

“Nah, angel”, he presses a kiss on my temple.

“This is your punishment for taking that picture.”

I should have known he wouldn’t let me off the hook about this picture so quickly. 

“Please, I had no idea”, I groan frustrated and sling my arms around his neck for support as I start to move my hips, trying to create speed and friction on my own. My plan failed as Satoru keeps my hips in place with his other arm around my waist now. 

“Should have thought about that before taking a picture with a random man.”

He can’t be serious, right?

How am I supposed to know Satoru has a mortal enemy out there, who out of nowhere appears in front of me at the supermarket. 

Sukuna called it fate, but what was it really?

With a light bite in my cheek, Satoru brings me back to the present as his fingers once again enter me lazily. 

“This is unfair”, I complain against his neck, thinking if I touch him more it will make him more excited, giving me what I want. 

My hands wander under his shirt, along his hard abs to his nipples, stroking them slightly. That move earned me a rough exhale from him between shut teeth. 

“Just promise me one thing.”

“Everything, I will promise you everything”, I am so desperate to get off. I can feel the coil inside me building up but it isn’t going to snap at this slow pace.

“Whatever happens between us, never fuck Sukuna, promise.”

Again his insecurity when it comes to Sukuna and me. Is it really a jealousy thing? I can’t imagine Satoru ever being jealous of someone. 

“I promise, really, I will always be on your team even if you don’t want me to.”

He looks at me with an amazed grimace before locking our lips again, finally speeding up. The lazy circles on my clit turn into rougher ones as his fingers pump into me. I breathe heavily into his shoulder as my legs start to quiver and the strength to keep them up tardily leaves me. 

He knows exactly where my weak spot is, as he supports my weight with his muscular arm, hitting the same sweet spot over and over again as his fingers work their wonders to make me cum. The coil that was built on at the slow movements, quickly grows bigger before it explodes and I cum undone around his fingers. My walls pulsate around his fingers as he lets me ride my orgasm out on them. 

I’m out of breath but I can’t wait any longer. I want him inside me right now. With shaky hands I open his pants and lift myself up on my wobbly knees to pull his pants down. His erection springs free and yeah, no baby carrot. 

Nevertheless I am still intimidated but I had him already in me and I survived it and even better liked, no loved it.

“Slow down, partner”, Satoru yelps out of breath as I position myself on top of his dick. 

“No.”, I kiss him and sink down on him, feeling my walls painfully stretch around his massive girth. He leans back, pressing his back against the wall for support and giving me time to adjust and do everything at my speed. His eyes are closed and I know he wants to do nothing more than move his hips at an incredible pace to drill into me.

But he is patient as I slip slowly down his cock, letting out small whines, each one making his cock flutter inside of me. Once I am all settled down, I take a short breather adjusting myself.

Soon enough I start to roll my hips to let him know I am ready. His reaction was immediate as he grips my hips hard, boring his fingers into the soft flesh on my stomach and just fucks raw into me. I gasp and tears escape my eyes at the sudden rough friction. My eyes roll back as he lets go off my hip with one arm, laying it now flat against my back and gripping my neck from behind. Hand in my hair to keep me steady as he slides his dick in and out of me with loud groans. He has to use a lot of strength to not keep me from falling off his lap, but he doesn’t seem to mind, not breaking a sweat over this. His tongue moves from my shoulder to my neck, up my jaw to my mouth where it means mine. 

I’m so full of him I feel everything so intense that it is mind numbing. Whenever his white pubic hair meets my clit, it sends a shiver down from head to toe. 

“Maybe I will just mark you”, he bites into my lip before kissing me again: “Making it clear who you belong to.”

He lets go of my hip and grabs my jaw between his long fingers to make me look at him.

“Would you like that, angel? Letting everyone know you are mine?”

I nod and babble a few yesyesyes.

Surely this is all filthy sex talk, right? He doesn’t really mean it. I am not his. 

“I could cum on your face and make you walk around like that or fill you up with so much of my cum your birth control fails and you will be round with my baby.”

Whatever he wants, he can have and I make sure to tell him that as I wail into the palm of my hand to keep myself quiet. 

This time we aren’t team players as we both chase our own release. His thrusts get sloppier as he supports my legs with his hands so I don’t break down on him. My chest is pressed against his, since I lost the power to uphold my body on its own. Before I lose my strength completely I climax and my head falls heavy on his shoulder as I start to see stars behind my closed eyes. 

“No one fucks you so good.”

I’m not sure if it was a statement or a question, but I can’t speak anyway, so I just nod against his hard shoulder.

Feeling my walls open and close around his dick, Satoru slides one more time fully into me, his pubic hair chilling against my clit again as he fills me up with his warm sperm, twitching inside of me until he is completely milked.

My head is resting on his shoulder and he is resting his’ on mine. 

I don’t know how long we stay like this, but after a while Satoru slaps my ass, making me jolt. 

“Time to get ready, can’t let them kids wait, right?”, he pulls me up, his dick slipping out of me, suddenly leaving me feeling empty and abandoned. Carefully he carries me to the side, my naked ass on the bench now as he gets up and pulls his pants up. He picks up my clothes and grabs a few paper towels from the shelf, placing all next to me on the bench while I am still in a state of trance. He smirks at my fucked out gooey form and slicks my hair out of my face. 

“I need to discuss something with Suguru. I will be back once the course starts.”

For a second it looks like he is leaning in for a kiss, but then he retracts and pats my shoulder like we are buddies!? As if his dick wasn’t a few seconds ago getting freaky inside my bowels. He turns around and leaves without saying another word or waiting for a response. 

I got my draw. 

But with the worst outcome possible. Being left alone, naked, with his cum leaking out of me and nothing has changed, I still know nearly nothing about him. 

Sukuna is his enemy, but why exactly does he hate him so much? It can’t be just that he is on an opposite team. 

And what does Suguru have to do with this? 

I lied to all of them. I told them I had no idea who Sukuna was. 

Well, that’s actually true to an extent, but I didn’t mention our past. 

If Satoru can have his secrets, I can have mine too.

As long as they don’t come back and bite me in the ass. 

[fushipurro]

In the Shadows of Love

Chapter 8 - Simplicity

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☆ Content: light angst, dare i say: tooth-rotting fluff

☆ Word Count: 5.8k

With the end of Megumi’s birthday comes Christmas, and you’re set to host it with the Fushiguro family.

It was actually you’re idea, believe it or not. Partially because Toji has nothing in the form of festive décor, and even if he wanted to go out now for some, every shelf in each store has already been wiped clean.

The other reason is your desire to help. Taking care of three kids as a single father is no joke, and it’s a way to repay his kindness towards you.

Following Megumi’s big day, you dug out all the boxes hoarding dust in the back of your closest. It’s not much besides a tree, lights, and various pieces, but it’ll have to do. You have plenty of other ideas in mind to spread the holiday cheer, something you yourself haven’t felt in the years prior to now.

On the eve of the holiday, you invited the kids over for one of your favorite seasonal activities ─ baking sugar cookies.

Regardless of it being the night before Christmas, Toji still has to head in to work later in the evening and could use some time to himself to rest.

You prepared the dough ahead of time, hopefully making today run smoothly. All the kids will need to do is cut shapes and put icing on the cookies, making for a much easier cleanup. Or so you hope.

Your already small kitchen is made worse with you, three kids, and a cat filling the space, but nothing you can’t handle.

“Who wants to play a game?” you ask with some popsicle sticks in hand.

Mai and Megumi cheer in unison, while Maki’s remains stoic, but curious.

The game will decide the order of which the children will have a turn with the dough, helping alleviate any stepping of toes from the lack of room. Each stick has a number written on the end, and all they have to do is pick at random to keep things fair.

Mai will be getting the first shot, followed by Maki, and Megumi last.

You give a quick demonstration on rolling the dough, that way if they want to try, they can when it’s their turn. Mai is eager, with restless hands tapping the countertop. Maki watches intently from the other side of the counter, while Megumi is just happy to have Tsumiki around his feet.

“Now just take one of these… and press it into the dough,” you instruct, using one of the many holiday cutouts you have available.

“Can I pick any?” Mai asks, holding a candy cane shape in one hand, and a star in the other.

“Use whichever ones you’d like, sweetie.” You smile, gesturing to everything laid out. From hats to trees, stockings and presents, you have it all for what is likely any of their first times baking. “There’s plenty of dough to go around so I want you all to do whatever makes you happy. These cookies are for you.”

Mai does hers one at a time, choosing only the shapes she likes rather than how her twin intends to do things.

Maki leaves little space in between each of the cutouts, going at it from an optimal approach. While not blatantly smiling, her focused eyes make it clear enough she’s at least trying to have fun.

In the few days you’ve known the twins, Maki’s been the more difficult of the two to crack. Her relation to Toji is uncanny through more than looks and it’s a shock they’re only cousins. You hope with more time spent together with her, that she’ll open up like Megumi has done with you.

While Megumi hasn’t called you mama again since that day, he has been clinging to you more often than usual. Seeing Yuji and Yuki together may have triggered something for Megumi or made him realize he wants a bond like that with you.

You’re hopeful he’ll say it again when he’s ready.

Being a mother wasn’t something you were always able to envision for your future, especially after being told by a dozen doctors it wouldn’t be possible.

You learned early on not to have dreams about it.

Adoption exists and although you’re open to the idea, finding someone that will except you for everything you are proves more than difficult.

Maki finishes her batch, stepping away from the counter. Megumi grabs at the hem of your shirt in order to get your attention. “My turn?”

“It is, are you ready?” He nods, and you pick him up and onto the stool so he’s able to reach the dough.

As soon as his eyes land on the reindeer cutout, he goes right for it without hesitation. Megumi has some difficulty pressing the cutout down due to his arms not fully able to reach.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Maki chides, a closed fist propping her head up on the counter.

“Am not,” he refutes, but Maki starts pointing to his unintentional error.

“Look, you’re missing a leg and that spot’s too thin.”

Megumi pouts. “So?”

As he shakes his hand from side to side to separate the shape from the rest of the dough, he ends up losing more than just a leg in the process.

“It’s messed up,” Maki bluntly points out, and it’s evident Megumi’s becoming frustrated.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you intervene before things get worse.

What even is the right way to scold someone else’s child? You end up going for a light approach just to be safe, hoping it works out.

“Look here.” You take the botched reindeer into your hands with the rest of the dough, rolling it back into a ball. With the rolling pin in your hands this time, you stretch the dough out properly, ensuring all sides are an even size. “If you make a mistake, we can always fix it. It’s no trouble at all.”

Megumi makes another attempt, looking to you for approval before pushing the cutter down. This time he manages to get a proper shape out of it, his eyes lighting up with joy that washes all the stress away.

“Good job!” you say while clapping, forgetting that your hands are coated in flour. It sends a cloud of white dust right into your face, sticking to your hair. The three start laughing and then trying to mimic you for fun.

So much for mess free baking, but who cares so long as they get to enjoy themselves.

Once the kids all get the hang of what to do, the rest runs smooth and easy. Megumi does however insist that his cookies must be reindeer shaped. The next time you do this with him, you’re going to have to look into some more animal cutouts.

The fact you’re even thinking about a second Christmas with the Fushiguros brings a warm feeling to your heart.

“Alright Maki, this will be the last batch, so make it count,” you tell her, and she’s silent for a moment. You almost believe she’s having trouble deciding what shape to use which is odd given how confident she was earlier.

She suddenly declares, “Megumi can have my turn.”

“Really?” He replies, shocked by her words. It surprises even you, but you guess it’s her way of apologizing.

Maki nods her head, stepping away from the counter to make room for Megumi.

“That’s very kind of you, Maki.” You smile to her, causing a rosy tint to appear on her cheeks. “Now ’Gumi, what do we say?”

“Thank you, Maki!”

Instead of going for the reindeer as expected, he chooses a gingerbread man. Not only that, but Megumi then starts reaching for Maki’s hand.

“Together.”

“You want me to help?” she questions, looking as shocked as he did just seconds ago. Megumi nods his head, further deepening her blush. “F-fine! But only ‘cause it was my turn before.”

You both know that’s not true.

With the last of the cookies ready to go in the oven, you help clean off all their tiny hands before sending them off to the couch with some snacks as a reward for their hard work.

To pass the time until the next step of this process, they decide on watching Santa Buddies first and foremost, leaving you to handle all the oven work. The movie gives you plenty of time to make sure everything’s perfect and cleaned up.

When all is said and done, and the credits are rolling, you bring the kids back into the kitchen for the best part of this whole thing ─ decorating.

You’ve already laid out several bowls filled with a combination of powdered sugar and milk, creating the perfect icing. All that’s left now is for each of the kids to add drops of food coloring, the task you’ve always enjoyed the most as an artist.

They each have their own plate of cookies to decorate, evenly distributed so no competition can come of it. It doesn’t stop them from trying to make the best decorated cookie.

Maki shoots for whatever works, regardless of whether that means Santa gets a blue hat instead of red. Mai’s cookies are color coordinated as intended, and surprisingly is kept within clean edges.

As for Megumi well… he’s having fun, that’s for sure. His reindeer appear straight out of My Little Pony with rainbows or a variety of patterns, some even having Rudolph’s red nose.

Everything except for the gingerbread shapes he’s refusing anyone to see until he’s done.

In the meantime, you’re pulled away from the group at the sound of your door, opening it to an interesting sight.

“Toji? Or should I say Santa?” you tease.

He enters your home wearing the signature hat on top of his usual gray sweatpants, black shirt combo.

“Ho, ho.” He deadpans, playfully shaking his head with a small smile. Toji walks over to the kids, peering over their shoulders. “What do we have here?”

“No peeking!” Megumi shouts at his father while trying to cover his work in progress.

“Okay, okay, sheesh.” Toji raises his hands defensively, backing off. He then turns to you, leaning against your fridge with arms crossed. “Looks like you’ve been havin’ fun.” He gestures to your hands. “Who’d you murder without me?”

It’s only then you realize how stained your hands are in red. “Oh,” you chuckle, “We got a bit carried away with the food coloring is all.”

Toji hums, unconvinced. “Is that so? Well, you better hope I don’t see your name come up on the naughty list then.” He winks.

“Hey, I’m more than happy to be given rocks as gifts ─ even coal! I’m not picky.”

“Sweetheart, you deserve diamonds, not coal,” he scoffs, putting you at a loss for words.

If one were to put rose or cherry quartz next to your face, they wouldn’t find a difference between the two.

Toji yawns, cracking his neck. “Thanks for doing all this so I could sleep, I appreciate it.” He rolls his shoulders and you’re nearly mesmerized by muscles of his arms flexing. A few more pops sound from his back.

“Y-yeah, no worries.” You swallow, realizing your throat’s gone dry. “I’m happy to help.”

“They’ve been good for you, I hope?” Toji asks, swiping one of the cookies from Maki’s plate. She doesn’t say anything in response except for a harsh glare he ignores.

Earlier issues aside, you have no complaints. Some kids would’ve turned your kitchen into a winter wonderland with flour or start a food fight with dough, but not these three.

“The best,” you reply, your words making him gleam.

Toji takes a bite of the cookie, and his eyes widen as he chews. “These are good,” he says in between bites. “What’d you put in them, crack?” You stare at him, appalled for having no filter, even in front of children.

“No, we put love in them,” Megumi tells him, using the phrase you said earlier when discussing the magic of baking.

“Did you now?” Toji smirks, side-eyeing you.

“It’s better than what you’re suggesting I’m feeding these kids.” You know he’s only teasing in his attempt to compliment you, but you’ve gotten comfortable joking back at him like this.

“You gotta admit, they’re equally addicting,” he counters, yet, he does have a point.

For better or worse, love makes you dependent, igniting a deeper craving for more. Insatiable, and your favorite drug. There is no better high than the one you get from someone who you deem your everything in life.

“Done!” Megumi cheers, raising his arms joyfully.

You and Toji come up from behind him, and the twins at either side. There’s a total of five gingerbread men lined up, each taking after everyone in the room. One of the reindeer even resembles Tsumiki in a way, if she were a colorful cervine.

He used green icing to distinguish Maki and Mai by their hair, and somehow got a darker shade when you weren’t looking for Toji and his own gingerbread hair. Their eyes are each their respective colors of green and blue, something you wonder is a trait Megumi got from his mother.

The final cookie then resembles you, from your hair to your eyes, and even the color of clothes you have on.

“Aww, ‘Gumi, these are so cute!” You hug the boy, and his expression turns bashful. “They’re so pretty, I don’t know how I’m gonna eat them now.”

His voice comes at a whisper, “I made family.”

Forget your infatuation with Toji, Megumi has stolen your heart.

“Nice work, Megs,” Toji praises, ruffling his hair before doing the same to the twins. “You too, girls.” They both look happy as well, with a rare, subtle smile appearing on Maki’s face.

When you think about all the cartoons you’ve watched as a child with episodes about Christmas lasting forever and what not, you can’t blame those who want such things.

You love this family, and if every day could feel like today, then maybe it’s worth living to the next.

The rest of the evening is spent gathered around the TV to enjoy another holiday classic, The Nightmare Before Christmas. The fresh sugar cookies taste better than you remembered and made for an excellent treat while waiting on dinner, something else you all enjoy together.

Like family.

The next morning, Megumi is up bright and early knocking on your door, Toji and the twins right behind him.

“Merry Christmas!” they greet in unison, with Megumi running up to hug you.

“Come in, come in!” You wave your hand while parting your door. “I just finished making breakfast.”

Truth be told, you were up early for once in preparation. It was hard to sleep last night, almost like you were a child again with your outfit of the day folded at the foot of your bed, ready to go.

For breakfast, you went with the tradition of cinnamon rolls, scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, monkey bread, fruit, and whatever else you thought would be good. It seems like a lot, but it all comes together quickly and is eaten just as fast by kids who want to unwrap presents already.

You help get the kids seated, filling their plates as well as Toji’s all nice and full, with plenty of extras. He’s off putting gifts below your tree while you do so. With Tsumiki around, it’s a miracle it’s still standing despite her best efforts at making it her designated cat tower.

Toji returns to the table, eyeing everyone’s suspiciously full plates in comparison to yours. “Is that gonna be enough for you?” Toji asks, sitting down.

“Oh, this is plenty,” you tell him dismissively. Even if it’s not, you want to make sure everyone else gets their fill, prioritizing their needs over yours.

“Please, that’s too little.” Toji holds his plate over yours, brushing some of the food off.

“You don’t have to, I’m fine, I promise!” you say, but he doesn’t let up until you have a larger portion than him.

“Eat what you can, I can always finish what’s left.” His words are reassuring, but you hope he’s not trying to hold back for your sake. Ironic.

You mutter your thanks as you begin eating. You’re happy to see the kids all excited ─ even Maki beneath her stoic expression.

Toji on the other hand… well, you know that look of exhaustion anywhere.

It’s likely given his graveyard hours that he hasn’t had a moment of rest since the day prior but is pushing through unbothered.

Three kids are no joke. It’s a lot to shoulder, even with your help. It’s admirable how self-sacrificing he can be for his family, and you hope he knows how good a father he is.

You end up purposely leaving extras on your plate for him.

After breakfast, you all gather into the living room for the main event. Toji takes up his usual spot in the corner on the sofa, and Tsumiki immediately gets up to join him on his lap, purring loud enough for everyone to hear.

“She really likes you, ya know,” you say to him while handing the kids some presents.

Tsumiki trills when he scratches the top of her head. “More than you?” he teases with a grin to match.

“Oh please, let’s not go that far.” You roll your eyes playfully. “I’m practically her mother, she’ll always be my little girl.”

“Whatever you say Ma, but this” ─ Toji points a finger down at your cat ─ “is pretty convincin’ to me,” he chuckles.

There’s hardly a second in between for you to register the new nickname before the kids are gasping at their presents.

“You got me a camera!?” Mai squeals with joy, turning the box over onto all its sides to see. You had gifted her a polaroid in purple ─ her favorite color ─ figuring she’d enjoy it for all her modeling and acting dreams.

Maki took some more thought before you eventually settled on a skateboard. Another commonality between her and Toji is their shared love for athletics, so rather than getting her a ball or something she’d need a whole setup for, she can take this one on the go wherever.

You found one that features a red dragon painted across the deck with clouds surrounding the beast. The grip tape has some scales cut out to match the aesthetic, with black wheels to tie it all in. The overall style is something straight out of Hokusai’s famed works.

She holds the board up to the light to get a better look, and a toothy smile appears on her face. “Awesome…” she mutters.

For Megumi, you got him new games for his equally new console. All of which feature animals one way or another, with titles such as Okami or World of Zoo. Anything to fuel his passion for animals.

You won’t lie, none of these gifts were cheap and you’ll be begging Kento for more work soon but seeing the kids without a care in the world make it worth every penny.

Near the end of all the presents, you pull out the last gift tucked neatly back behind the tree. It’s wrapped in the same paper as all the rest ─ cats and dogs with Santa hats and other festive items ─ but there’s no name written anywhere.

“Who’s this for?” you ask Toji, raising the box up for him to see. Megumi’s eyes go wide as if he just remembered something.

“It’s for you,” he starts, “And before you say anything, Megs helped me pick it out.” Toji knew without guessing you were already planning your protest in your head. You can’t say refuse now if Megumi has some involvement.

You may have grown to not expect gifts or the like, but it certainly feels nice when you do receive something for once; that someone cares enough to bother getting you something.

“Did you now?” you muse, looking to the boy now appearing shy after being called out by his father.

You undo the glittery bow and the wrapping paper that follows. Beneath it is a velvet lined box containing a necklace in your go-to metal. It’s the perfect length, dainty as well ─ fashioned with numerous dangling stars that catch the light like a prism would.

“This is beautiful, guys… seriously, thank you both.” Your voice cracks slightly, and you think you may just start crying.

Megumi must’ve noticed, because he gets right up and stands in front of you. “Do you like it?” He’s scared you’ll say no because why else would your eyes be glossed over?

“Like it? Sweetie, I love it!” You pull him into a tight hug. Megumi cranes his neck around like an owl to Toji who’s beaming at him with a look of pride.

The necklace is a gift from them to you, a reminder of their presence in your life. You can look up at the night sky all you want, but now you know there are stars down here if you only look to your side.

“Come here, I’ll put it on you.” Toji beckons you with the curl of his finger.

You stand up from your spot on the floor, ruffling Megumi’s hair on your way to Toji’s side. You hold your hair up and off to the side for him, and even though you know it’s coming, you can’t help but react to his touch.

His fingers glide around your throat causing a sharp intake of air. He clasps the metal right over a sweet spot that ignites goosebumps down your neck. His warm breath fans your nape, sending that heat straight to your core.

“Turn around, let’s see.”

You’re even closer to Toji than you expected, causing your heartbeat to quicken like reindeer dancing on the rooftop.

His eyes drift from your necklace ─ that piece of him to you ─ and up to your still glistening eyes that seem to twinkle with emotion. When they move to settle back down, they stop over your lips. You don’t even realize you’ve parted them.

A silent invitation that expresses your burning desire.

You look to his and it’s as if you’re now bound by a force similar to gravity, like binary stars in the shape of hearts. All you can do is let yourself be pulled in.

“Snow!” Megumi’s shout interrupts the near stellar collision. He comes bounding between you both, ignorant to what just interrupted.

You and Toji separate, a feeling of embarrassment washing over you.

“Can we play outside, please?” Megumi asks with the best puppy dog eyes he’s able to muster.

And how can you say no to that?

Toji brings a hand up to his neck and exhales. “Only if you bundle up, I don’t need sick kids running around.”

All they needed to hear were the first few words before they’re off to the front door in a hurry. Toji gets up to follow, sparing a glance over his shoulder. “You coming?”

You feel his gaze all over yourself, leaving fire in its wake. You’re avoiding his face, too caught up in your own world.

You almost kissed.

It would’ve been your first real kiss with someone you admire too. You can’t help but feel disappointed.

Toji clears his throat to get your attention again.

“Oh ─ yeah, I’ll go and get ready now!” you tell him, and he makes an amused snort before leaving.

Looking around in his absence, you already miss the noise. It blurs any thoughts you might have in your mind, keeping you grounded in yourself. You’re going to be kept busy either way by the mess of things; torn paper all over the floor, dishes to clean… but that’s a task for later.

When was the last time you played in the snow without a care?

It’s Christmas. Have some fun.

You do still dump any trash Tsumiki could get into. No need for any more vet visits.

Toji and the kids are all back at your door minutes later, their eagerness as evident as rainbows cutting across blue skies with the promise of gold. A rare sight in the wintery season.

But there’s one more gift before you all head out into the cold.

“Do you mind closing your eyes for one second?” Your question posed towards Toji.

He quirks his brow but still does as you ask. “What’s this about?”

“You’ll see,” you reply, shifting your hands to give him his gift. “Alright, you can open them now.”

Toji could feel you place something around his neck, tying it into place with a gentle touch. He lifts his hands up to inspect, looking down at the simple, yet quality wool scarf.

It holds no defining pattern in the threading, instead presenting a solid shade of green. The hue is close to what you’d see on forest leaves bathed in shadows under the moon. Like two pools of jade, with onyx in the center.

His eyes.

“Can’t have you catching a cold either out there,” you chuckle, admittedly with a nervous undertone.

Shopping for kids is easy when the possibilities are seemingly endless as they grow in life. For adults, it’s all about finding smaller, more meaningful gifts they can appreciate day-to-day.

And he loves yours.

You know this when Toji’s arms wrap around your body, bringing you flush against his chest. His heartbeat throbs like yours did earlier ─ hooves pounding on snowy tiles. You close your eyes to embrace the feeling of his warmth. If this took place outside, you’d surely find a perfect circle melted in the snow around your shared forms.

“Thank you,” he says; simple, like the scarf, but the thought behind both express more than what can be made into words.

It’s all you need.

The end of the rainbow may as well be at your feet.

Several more snow days follow.

Several more days of peace beneath skies painted in violet and amber. The golden hues of the setting sun bring the snow alive ─ like fire encased by an endless glacier as far as the eye can see.

Toji wears the scarf every time he goes outside, be it work or play. Exhaustion weighs heavier on his features as the days go on, though he refuses to let it show.

With Megumi and the twins around, you eventually find out he’s been sleeping on the couch so the three can share the bed all night. It is a one-bedroom apartment after all.

It wasn’t so much a problem when Megumi was away in school during the times Toji needed to sleep, but Megumi being home each day now on holiday and Toji having to care for two more on top is taking its toll.

He would never vocalize this discomfort, not wanting to bring worry to the kids. It only makes you want help him more to lighten the burden off his shoulders.

It’s what friends do; you tell him whenever he tries to shy away and claim he’s fine. It’s exactly what you would do too if you were in his place.

A voice in your mind tells you that it’s playing house at best, the desire for something deeper. It’s a relishing feeling to be relied on by your crush, and you crave the comfort it brings.

“Aren’t you up early?” Toji says in lieu of a greeting. It’s another day of you offering your free time. The only difference is that today is a special day.

His special day.

“Kids are still sleeping, but you’re welcome to hang out,” he says with a gruff voice, yawning after.

You think sleep is a nice look for him, if only under better circumstances.

“I can watch them for you if you have any plans today,” you tell him.

Be it friends or a special someone, none of it matters at the end of the day if you can still be something to him.

Something is better than nothing, despite the close call of a kiss.

It doesn’t feel real that it almost happened. You hope it wasn’t a visage crafted through heart-shaped eyes, but insecurities are ever present in your mind.

Either way, Toji chose to stay here with you.

He could’ve spent his day catching up on his sleep while you handled everything, but instead he followed you around like a stray cat would. Though in the case of Toji, a panther makes for a better comparison.

Large, fierce, and skilled in many ways but with a soft spot at their core others tend to forget.

Take tigers for example. If a mother were to pass away early, a cub’s father will step in to raise them. Some do it from afar, offering silent protection from harm, or leading their young to meals. In some cases, they remain glued at the hip, spending day and night till their cub is of age.

You wonder if raven-haired jaguars might act the same, but isn’t it obvious?

As tired as he was, he never let it get in the way. The five of you spent some time playing outside, where Toji became a one-man army in a snowball fight against you and the kids. With a smirk plastered on his face, he was a force to be reckoned with.

Victory was a futile effort, but the kids tried again and again until their energy drained away. Toji let them win in the end, and they were quick happy to bury him in snowballs after. Luckily, they all chose to go to bed early after dinner, giving you and Toji some time for yourself before his next shift.

What better time to celebrate?

You crept towards the sofa with a cupcake in hand. You thought a sheet cake might’ve been too much, so you went with a more simple treat. With Toji being a fan of chocolate flavors, you decided to make one special with chocolate for the base, icing, and even some frozen bark wedged on top around the solely lit green candle at the center.

“Happy Birthday, Toji.”

Your necklace dances when you come into view, the amber reflections of the flames catching his eye. It’s almost enough for him to forget that he’s the star of this show when a galaxy stands before him.

His silence has you questioning whether you misjudged his preferences. “If you don’t like the flavor, I’ve made plenty more so please–“

“It’s perfect,” he says, hands engulfing your own to accept the offering. You find it hard to pull away, his warmth easily outshining the candle.

You sit at his side, and with one quick huff, the flame is gone.

“Did you even make a wish?” you tease.

“Don’t need to,” he says, mirth flickering across his features. His eyes whisper a thousand unspoken words.

Toji barely can get a bite out of the cupcake before you’re pushing a present towards him to take. “What’s this?” he asks, placing the dessert down.

You hand him a sleek black box, topped with a solid green bow. “Open it and see.”

With only nine days to prep for his birthday, finding something last minute proved to be a challenge. It was one you were more than willing to undergo just to see him smile.

The initial curiosity turns to surprise, then crests into a soft look of joy. Gentle; genuine.

The box contains a silver chain leading down to a one-of-a-kind piece of malachite encircled by the same sterling metal. A pool of green with midnight flecks. Leaves loved by moonlight.

“Do you like it?” Worry laces your words as you wait for his approval.

He holds the box out for you to take. “Put it on for me and let’s see.”

You free the chain, bringing it up around his neck. The stone has some weight to it ─ a reminder of its presence and meaning as it hangs close to his heart.

“Well?” Toji turns to face you again, one eyebrow raised in anticipation.

“It’s perfect,” you say, mimicking his words. Simple, but only at its surface.

“I couldn’t agree more.” He smiles.

Your eyes raise from the gem to that smile. There’s no arrogance or amusement, only a gentle tug of adoration. The tethers of an unseen force pull at you again.

Golden hues spill into the room ─ more vibrant than before ─ but easily eclipsed by his body before you.

It’s perfect, for what other light could you possibly desire? Violet shadows are as much his color as the greenery of trees on a midnight walk. If you have him by your side, you’ll never lose your way in the dark.

“Can I?” he asks quietly, one hand smoothing along your jaw. You find yourself leaning his touch, nodding against his palm.

Toji moves with confidence ─ hunger even, when his lips connect with yours. A stellar collision, with no others stars to stop its fate.

Sweetness coats his lips from the residual chocolate, his taste better than any dessert. It ignites a sensation deep in your body that leaves you craving more. An insatiable thirst, and all you needed was one to get you hooked.

When he pulls away, you can’t help but lean forward to follow, missing that lifeline of affection already. Toji’s laugh rumbles deeply and thick, like he’s fresh out of bed.

He kisses you again, forcing you backwards until his weight becomes a blanket over you. The burning feeling from before only grows stronger, like wildfire in need of relief but all you truly want is equivalent to fuel.

“Toji–“

His head falls deeply into the side of your neck, and you feel him relax. From the gentle breaths against your skin, you realize that he’s fallen asleep.

A kiss from Prince Charming may wake a sleeping princess, but from you to your knight in shining armor, it offers peace and serenity.

You let him stay like this. A sense of pride filling you that Toji was comfortable enough in the first place to let himself be so vulnerable with you.

Your hand moves through his hair lovingly, in a way one would pet a cat. He sighs in his sleep, arms coiling in a near possessive manner. You think maybe you aren’t alone with your desire for affection.

And before you know it, you’re following after him.

For the first time in countless nights, your thoughts are quiet as could be, silenced by the presence and warmth that clings you better than any blanket could.

When you come to next, it’s only you who remains.

Toji’s nowhere to be seen, his body replaced by a thick throw. It’s heavy ─ securing, but at the same time, it isn’t him.

One of his pillows now props your head up, providing you his scent at the very least. It flows around you in a way that makes you think he hasn’t even left. The smell is comforting, alluring, and all Toji.

On the table next to you is a note weighed down with one green candle, the letter containing an apology for leaving so soon. It’s too bad he had work otherwise he’d still be here, but you’re glad you got to spend this time with him.

Toji may not care for his birthday, deeming it just another day on the calendar of life, but this year was different.

You made certain of that.

☆ Notes: read a tojikuna fic the other day called “in lieu of” (which I highly recommend btw) and was inspired to try and more metaphors to my work. Idk how good they came out cause honestly I question whether they actually make sense or if I’m just talking out of my ass. Dialogue is hard enough as if for me being autistic wondering if it’s stuff others would say or just me/cringe/lacking/etc. That aside, I hope you guys enjoyed this peaceful chapter cause things are gonna ramp up soon :)

Please don’t be afraid to comment or shoot me an ask about anything really, I love to yap!!! it helps keep me going especially when I have thoughts about quitting whenever I’m feeling insecure about my writing