#I was on such a roll there for a while with the two chapters pretty close together plus a one shot

[teshadraws]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 72]

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AO3 Link

-

The dig for Yveltal continues, and the members of Team Scarlet learn about a village tradition.

-

The next day dawns much the same as the one before, save for a newly-healed Samir joining their crew. Fidel sees them off with a sleepy wave and a bid to be safe.

Junie, perched on Nia’s shoulder, snorts on their way out the door. “He shouldn’t worry so much. The scariest thing we’ll see today is Soren.”

“C’mon, I don’t think Soren’s that bad,” Nia says.

Junie gives her a dry look. “No offense, Nia, but you’d think an axe murderer was redeemable.”

Tobias and Samir huff a quiet laugh.

“H-Hey! I’m not that bad, either!”

“That’s the problem,” Junie says. “You’re too good. I’m sure you saw something in Soren's aura that makes him all sympathetic or whatever, but that doesn’t mean much to the rest of us.”

She…has a point. Good intentions don’t mean much without the behavior to match. Nia pouts but doesn’t argue, pulling the straps of their new backpack down around her shoulders.

“If I had to stop being such a jerk to people before they’d give me a shot, so does he,” Tobias says casually, stretching his arms as he leads them down the icy cobblestone oath to Nico’s restaurant. Eira had told them that they could swing by the delibird's place to pick up lunch for later.

“Who says you ever stopped being a jerk?” Junie teases, fluttering onto Tobias’ shoulder.

The charmander blows a ring of smoke into her face, making her shout about him proving her point before flying back to the safety of Samir’s back. Samir gives the rookidee an amused look.

The air is frigid as ever today, and clouds have covered the sky in a thin blanket of gray. Flurries of snow drift by as their group moves through the sleepy village.

When they reach the restaurant, Nia is surprised to see a small line formed outside, leading up to a serving window near the front door. A pretty white fox Pokemon with curly, icy-blue fur atop her head is leaning out of it, laughing with one of the townspeople. She uses a paw to push a small, woven sack lunch across the counter to them.

“Thanks, Rora!" The Pokemon says. "Say hi to your mama for me."

He grabs the meal and heads off with a wave.

Oh, neat! Carnelian had explained that the Matriarch was covering their meals while they stayed here, but he didn’t mention that they have a takeout situation set up. That’s perfect.

They join the back of the line, eyeing the menu as Nia and Junie talk about fast food in the human world—

“You didn’t have Döner?!” Junie exclaims.

“No, I lived in the U.S.! I was a Wendy’s fan.”

“Oh, that’s just criminal.”

—until it’s their turn.

The fox, Rora, perks up when she sees them, standing up on what must be a stool to lean over the counter with sparkling blue eyes. “Well hellooo there, strangers! I’ve been dying to meet you.”

Nia blinks. “You have?”

“Well, yeah! I’ve lived on this mountain my entire life, and a girl gets tired of snow, snow, and more snow, y’know? Like, everyone’s nice, but I want to see an actual city! Go to the ocean! And you’re Seekers, right? So you must’ve seen it all!”

“Rora! You’re working, remember?” A voice calls from within the restaurant.

Rora rolls her eyes, and Nia realizes suddenly that this must be a younger ‘mon. A teenager, most likely, probably only a year or two behind Nia and Tobias. Probably somewhere around Junie’s age.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rora sighs. But she smiles at them. “What can we get y’all?”

“O-Oh,” Nia says. “Um. I’ll take the, uh, bannock? With berries.” Anything topped with berries seems like a safe bet.

“Sure thing, sweetie,” Rora says, giving Nia a wink that makes her flush under her fur. The fox reaches to the side to scoop a small, purple marble out of a little bucket. “And you?”

“Veggie gratin, please!” Junie chirps.

Rora nods with a hum and adds a green marble to Nia’s purple. “And you two? Wow, you’re all cute, huh?”

Tobias, who had opened his mouth to order, goes bright red. “Uh.”

Samir isn’t much better, looking like a deer in headlights.

Wow, a super-effective hit on all of them. Rora’s dangerous.

The ice type laughs. “Sorry, sorry. Mama always says I’m too forward.”

Junie grins. “No, I like it!”

“‘S fine,” Tobias mutters, looking adorably flustered as he ducks his chin into his scarf. “Uh. We’ll take the roasted root salad and the pumkin curry."

Ooh, all of those sound good. Maybe they can share their meals so they get to try a bit of each!

Rora nods, sweeping brown and orange marbles to join the others before pushing all of them off the counter to drop into a little chute. Nia hears them roll away from the window.

“It’ll be just a few minutes,” Rora says, before looking at them again with wagging tails and bright eyes. “In the meantime, can you tell me about some of the cool places you’ve been? I’m making a list of where I should visit first when I finally save up enough to go traveling!”

Nia ignores the heart-wrenching thought that if they don’t succeed in saving the world, this girl will never get the chance. Instead, Nia just smiles and says, “Sure! We actually just came back from this really cool little place called Kaleido Bay…”

No one is behind them in line, so they chat with Rora while they wait for their food, telling the young Pokemon about all the places they’ve been: Kaleido Bay, the Haven, Ghatha, Fort Asra, Shivergleam, the fields they went to for the bug swarm’s migration…

Nia’s life has really been an adventure since she woke up as a Pokemon, hasn't it? She can’t blame Rora for wanting to see more of the world for herself.

When their food is ready, packed up in a tall basket that’s nearly too large to tuck into their bag, they wave goodbye to the cheery Rora and head to the tunnel to meet up with Carnelian and Nouf.

Nia is a little surprised to see Soren there as well. While they ended the day yesterday on much better terms than they started it, she would’ve thought the lucario would've convinced his father to let him stay back today. He seems like the type that needs to stay busy.

“Good morning!” Nia calls as they approach.

“G-Good morning,” Carnelian replies with a nervous smile.

Nouf grunts, and Soren gives them a nod. While the lucario doesn’t look excited by their arrival by any means, he at least feels much less hostile. Maybe they won him over a bit yesterday.

With everyone ready to go, Carnelian guides them once more into the tunnels and the heart of the mountain. They’re quickly enveloped by darkness and the rich scent of freshly-dug soil, with Tobias’ tail flame, Nouf’s lantern, and the faint red-purple glow of the crystals in the walls as their only sources of light.

It feels like no time at all before they’re back at the end of Carnelian and Nouf’s tunnel, a wall of crystal-laden rock in front of them. The sableye stretches, cracking his knuckles before getting to work, and Nouf wastes no time joining him.

And once more, the rest of them take a seat against the wall of the tunnel to wait and keep an eye on things. Nia sits close to Tobias’ side, leeching his warmth in the cold air, and Junie flutters into Nia’s lap to nest. Soren opts to stand against the wall across from them, arms crossed.

Samir is the only one left standing, looking a little lost.

“We weren’t joking when we said you didn’t miss much,” Tobias says, a wry note in his voice. “Just sit down and keep an ear out for any sign of cave-ins.”

Samir hesitates, but does eventually fold their legs beneath themself to settle on Tobias’ other side.

“Welcome to the thrilling world of cave guarding!” Junie says.

And thrilling it is. Nia is bored out of her mind in minutes, meaning she turns to her usual method of entertaining herself in these kinds of situations: her aura.

Although…

Nia checks her aura, and is happy to see it pretty much entirely back to normal after its previous state of exhaustion.

“Hey,” Nia says, catching the others’ attention. “Do you mind if I train my aura with yours while we’re down here?"

Tobias gives her an amused look. “You want to test some of the things Soren talked about yesterday, don’t you?”

Nia gives him a sheepish shrug.

“Sure!” Junie says.

“That’s fine,” Tobias agrees, reclining back against the cave wall and closing his eyes.

“I can avoid looking at yours, Samir,” Nia assures.

Samir looks at her for a long moment, then shakes their head. They whistle a quiet, Okay.

Nia’s brows raise. “You’re…okay with me reading your aura?”

Samir looks away, as if embarrassed, but nods.

Oh. That’s a level of trust Nia hadn’t thought they’d reached yet.

Nia smiles, touched. “Thank you. Don’t worry, I won’t pry.”

Samir shrugs, still not looking at her, so Nia gets to work and scooches away from Tobias a few feet, missing his warmth immediately. But it won’t be much of a practice with distance if she’s literally touching her targets.

Junie must understand that, because she flutters out of Nia’s lap without complaint and into Tobias’ instead, making herself cozy in his warmth with a happy sigh.

Across from them, Soren watches with an unreadable expression. He doesn’t offer his own aura as a test subject, but he doesn’t scorn her exercise, either. She’ll take that as a win.

Nia settles herself, taking a few breaths to relax and closing her eyes. She thinks about what Soren talked about yesterday, and all the uses her aura could have. She’s tried most of the techniques before, but she wants to try connecting to Pokemon at a farther distance.

Nia tries to replicate what she did at the Lexym Guild, sending a bit of her aura into the threads of the world around them. She was right yesterday when she said that the pathways here are…smaller. Dried up and barely visible. Her aura goes off track almost immediately, dissipating like a puff of steam on a hot playground slide.

Nia frowns.

This is definitely going to be harder than it was at the Lexym Guild. She supposes that makes sense, though—the Lexym Guild is literally built into a giant tree. Their surroundings were teeming with life energy there, the rivers of aura lush and their currents easy to float atop.

This mountain, as expected from somewhere so barren, is like…a dried-up creek, by comparison. The pathways are still there, and life isn’t choked out completely, but the water is shallow and the current is next to nonexistent. It takes a lot more effort for Nia to traverse it. In the guild, it was like sailing down a rapid river, whereas here she’s gonna have to painstakingly paddle her way upstream.

Oh well. That’ll make her practice more difficult, but she kind of welcomes the challenge. It’ll beef her skills up faster, after all, like punching above her weight class.

So, focusing herself and trying to tune out the sounds of Carnelian’s digging and Junie and Tobias’ quiet conversation, Nia tries again.

Slowly this time, she gathers a bit of her aura and sends it down the nearest branch, navigating towards where she knows Tobias is sitting. Sure enough, in a moment, she brushes against his familiar maroon aura. It recoils for a moment, surprised, before relaxing into her touch and reaching back.

Nia smiles, twining around him for a few seconds before finding Junie’s bright orange aura and tapping it, as if to say, Tag! You’re it.

Junie’s aura flares with excitement, then playfully chases back. The two of them tussle and roll for a few moments, before Nia moves away again.

Finally, Nia brushes by Samir, their aura lighting up behind her eyes. The skiddo is…silver. As strong as steel, scuffed up from heavy hits but still unbent. Reflective like a pool of water, calm and serene.

Nia doesn’t dig deeper than that for now, instead just trying to convey a sense of fond, safe, friend to reassure Samir since they aren’t used to this. She peeks open an eye to see Samir’s posture relax ever-so-slightly.

Nia cuts off her connection and takes a breath as her aura calms.

“You found them,” Soren says, surprising Nia.

She nods, proud.

“Now find the diggers.”

Nia blinks at him.

Soren stares back. His face is impassive, but his voice is neutral. He tilts his head in the direction of Carnelian and Nouf, already out of sight as they make a sharp turn in their tunneling.

While it’s phrased as a command, Nia gets the feeling Soren is trying to help, in his own blunt way. Or he's at least curious about how much she can do.

So Nia closes her eyes and tries to do as he suggested. Once more, she gathers her aura, then feeds it into the nearest thread, moving vaguely in Carnelian and Nouf’s direction.

Nia isn’t sure if it’s because they’re farther away, or because she can’t actually see them, but she has a much harder time of it. She takes a few too many wrong turns, then backtracks, until she feels her aura straining to maintain itself.

She lets it dissipate, huffing with frustration.

“Don't just mindlessly aim for the direction you think you should go,” Soren says. “That would get you nowhere during a search. Send out feelers first to pinpoint where your target is.”

“Um…feelers?”

Soren closes his eyes. For a moment Nia thinks he’s ignoring her, fed up with her questions already, until she feels his aura brush by hers to get her attention.

Soren’s deeper blue aura circles hers, then moves down one of the threads of the world around them. Nia closes her eyes and hesitantly follows, watching as Soren’s aura…splits. Razor-thin threads of his energy spread down a hundred different pathways, as thin as gossamer, barely there. Then, a moment later, they cut themselves off and vanish, save for one. Soren pours his energy into that one, and Nia trails at his proverbial heels, surprised when they suddenly skirt past two new auras, one a soft pink and the other a stalwart brick red.

…Carnelian and Nouf?

Nia opens her eyes with a gasp. “You found them so quickly! How did you do that?”

“Sending all of your energy in one direction without knowing where you’re going means you waste both time and aura if you are wrong. Instead, split your aura to cast a…net, of sorts. Once something catches your attention, you can follow it to its origin point.”

Huh. That reminds Nia of what she learned from Xander about tracking a scent with her nose. Breathing in deep until you catch a scent, finding its trail, and following it to its source.

“Doesn’t that tire you out, though?” Nia asks. “Spreading your aura so wide?”

“Less so than blindly searching and having to backtrack,” Soren says. He watches her expectantly.

Right. Her turn.

Nia takes a deep, grounding breath, then closes her eyes. She can sense Soren’s aura still hovering nearby, watching.

Nia tries to do as he showed her, not pouring all of her aura out in one big burst, but instead sending a trickle down multiple threads. Almost immediately, she loses track of which one is where, her confusion tangling the threads and making her lose concentration until her aura peters out.

Nia huffs.

“Don't think about it so much,” Soren says. Ugh, those words sound familiar. She had a problem with overthinking while battle training too, didn’t she? “You should not be directing your aura. You’re simply sending it down the pathways and covering ground until something catches your attention."

So it's kind of like…moving her hands through murky water. She shouldn’t be purposefully trying to seek out any objects hidden underneath with her eyes, but just…feeling, until she bumps into something. Like a spider feeling the vibrations of a struggling fly in its web and following those back to its catch.

“Okay,” Nia breathes.

She tries again, sending her aura out in thin threads. Some of them wash over Soren, Tobias, Junie, and Samir, but she ignores them this time around. She continues to cast her aura thin and wide, further and further, pushing her control to the limits until—

Faintly, she senses the unfamiliar auras from before. As if hearing a voice in the distance and knowing vaguely which direction it’s coming from. 

With that in mind, Nia cuts off all the other threads, then sends a larger burst of aura down the pathway where she sensed the disturbance, homing in on it.

There! She brushes by Carnelian and Nouf, and their auras light up behind her eyes.

“I found them!” Nia says, triumphant, as she cuts off her aura and opens her eyes. She’s panting, and her heart is beating fast, but she did it!

Soren meets her excitement with a satisfied nod. “You did.”

“No idea what you did, but good job!” Junie says.

Nia laughs. “I’m learning to find people and connect to their aura from a distance!”

Tobias’ brows raise, visibly impressed. “How far can you go?”

Nia hesitates, then looks at Soren.

“Practice will increase your range over time,” Soren says. “Theoretically, there is no limit. You could connect with someone on the other side of the planet, though that would require much more aura than you or I will ever have.”

“Wow,” Nia breathes. “And that’s how you communicate with your pack, right? Across the village?”

Soren hesitates for only a moment, then nods. “If you are close with someone, or at least familiar with their aura, it is easier to connect to them, even from a distance. Familiarity creates a sort of…magnetism between souls.”

“So if you practiced enough and had enough energy, you could like…talk to Maggie from way up here?” Tobias asks, bewildered.

“Like a cell phone!” Junie chirps.

Nia hums. “I think it’d be less like a conversation on a phone and probably more like…exchanging feelings, right? When I last practiced with Val and Avery, it was more like I was hearing the intent and emotions in someone's aura rather than actual words. And I think it’d be even harder to be specific from a distance.”

Soren nods. “Psychic types tend to speak in words, but our aura is based in emotion. Intent.“

Intent. Right. It’s like how Nia decides whether to make her aura intangible or physical, and whether to make it into a club or shield. Aura is pure energy, and Nia is in charge of what it does.

“So if intent decides how aura forms,” Nia muses. “How would I transfer energy like you mentioned earlier?”

“A healing move would be helpful with how often you guys get beat up,” Junie teases.

Tobias and Samir snort in unison. They're really on the same wavelength today.

“Riolu cannot channel energy for healing,” Soren says.

“Like how I couldn’t do aura readings?” Nia asks, her voice light but challenging.

To Nia’s surprise, Soren doesn’t bristle in response, simply shaking his head. “Riolu cannot typically achieve an aura reading without years of training, but it is possible. Healing moves, however, are impossible until evolution. Your biology isn’t built to convert energy in such a way.”

Nia frowns, glancing at Tobias and Samir as if to verify the lucario’s words. Tobias shrugs in response. “But…why wouldn’t I be able to do it now if I should be able to do it after evolving?”

“Perhaps as a defensive measure. When evolution was still possible, riolu typically evolved during childhood, since our evolution depends on an affection bond rather than battle experience or exposure to a particular item. However, getting carried away with healing as a child can deplete such a small Pokémon’s limited energy reserves. Sometimes to a dangerous degree.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of that before,” Tobias says thoughtfully. “Maggie mentioned it happening to one of her patients once. I think it was a cleffa that kept healing her friends while they were battling, and she pushed herself too much and fainted. Her parents were pretty worried, but she just needed to rest to recover.”

Soren nods. “Aura exhaustion. Common for young healers.”

Nia frowns, looking down at her paw. “Healing powers would be awfully convenient, though. Are you sure I can’t do it?”

For a long moment, Soren looks at her. “You can try, but don’t be disappointed when it does not work.”

“I bet you ten poké Nia somehow pulls it off,” Junie whispers to Samir.

Soren pointedly ignores her. “Use my aura as your test subject. I don’t want to risk you harming anyone else.”

Nia snaps her head up to look at the lucario, alarmed. “W-What?! Harm?”

“You are trying to inject aura directly into another Pokémon’s life force,” Soren says drily. “While intent to heal should keep you from causing any harm, surely you can see why I am being cautious.”

Nia’s face isn’t sure whether it wants to heat with embarrassment or pale with unease. When he puts it like that…

Soren sighs. “You will not hurt me because I will not allow you to do so. I can see you will insist on exploring this avenue if you do not explore it now, so go on.”

Junie snorts and whispers, “Okay, he got you there.”

Nia feels much less certain about the exercise now, but she also knows Soren is right and her curiosity will make her want to try eventually. So she closes her eyes and conjures her aura, tentatively approaching Soren’s soul.

“What do I do to heal?” Nia whispers.

Soren doesn’t respond, but his aura reaches out to brush over hers. She feels him leave energy behind to soak into her own, adding to her aura in a way that feels strange. Like…eating an oran berry and feeling her energy replenish. Or maybe like a burst of caffeine entering her system after chugging some coffee. Nia hasn’t been injured today, to her knowledge, but maybe even the regular wear and tear of just living can be mended by healing moves.

Okay, Nia, focus. Healing time.

Nia tries to do the same thing Soren did, sending a bit of her energy at his with the intent to add it to his own. Hers, however, just sort of…slides off before dissipating. Like oil and water trying to mix. Nia frowns and tries again, to no avail.

“In using a healing move, you are converting your energy to a more…universal state that can be accepted by anyone,” Soren says. “Riolu bodies are not accustomed to such a task.”

Nia wants to argue and say that she can do it if she just tries, but after giving the process a few more goes, she has to stop, releasing her aura to find herself panting hard, her heart pounding in her chest.

She couldn’t do it. She feels a bit embarrassed by Tobias, Samir, and Junie’s eyes on her.

Soren, however, just grunts. “There is no reason to be ashamed. All Pokemon are built differently. Charmander can breathe flames. Skiddo can use the vines and leaves that grow on their bodies. Rookidee are built small and light to achieve agile flight. Riolu are simply not built for healing. It's just how you are made.”

Oh. That brings up another question, though, one that has haunted Nia since she first showed up in this world. She didn’t think about it until now, but she has the perfect Pokemon to ask right in front of her.

Even if it is sort of embarrassing to bring up right after failing something else.

“Okay, I get why I can’t do healing moves,” Nia says, making herself look up at Soren, “Sort of. But, uh. Do you have any idea why I wouldn’t be able to use other types of move energy?”

There’s a long stretch of silence as everyone’s eyes go to the lucario. Soren stares back at Nia, his brow slowly furrowing.

“…You cannot use other types of move energy?”

Nia cringes. “Um. No?”

“Only normal type moves,” Tobias clarifies. “I’ve never seen her use a fighting type move. Val couldn’t figure it out, either.”

Soren continues looking at Nia like she is a particularly strange insect that has crawled into his home. She fidgets under his gaze.

“So...no guesses?” Nia asks.

Soren sighs. “As far as I can tell, you are physically a normal riolu, despite your abnormal aura control. You should possess the ability to use fighting type moves at the very least, so it likely comes back around to intent.”

Intent? But how can that be the case if Nia's intent is to use a fighting type move?

“Didn’t you say something about not wanting to be a fighting type ‘mon when you first showed up in this world?” Tobias asks, squinting at Nia. “Because you ‘don’t like fighting’ or something?”

Nia blinks. “Did I? But surely that didn’t like…change my biology or something.”

“No, but it likely explains what is happening,” Soren says, catching their attention again. “You are holding yourself back.”

Nia stares. “What?”

“If you see fighting type energy as particularly…dangerous, or violent, then you could be restraining yourself from accessing that type energy, even subconsciously.”

“I dunno if she’s restraining herself from violence,” Junie says, humor in her voice. “I’ve seen her punch a seviper in the face.”

Samir nods sagely.

Soren tilts his head. "In self-defense?”

Nia frowns. “Pretty much all of my fighting is because I’m either sparring or defending myself or someone else. I never just…attack someone because I want to or anything.”

“Then it is likely a mental block,” Soren confirms. “Some part of you sees fighting type energy as too dangerous to use on someone else, so you withhold it.”

“Even when I don’t want to?” Nia whines.

Soren shrugs, as if to say, You tell me. “I cannot unlock the chains you have placed onto yourself, Riolu."

Helpful. But at least Nia has an idea of why she can’t use other kinds of move energy now, even if the answer feels kind of silly since she’s apparently the one to blame.

Nia sighs. “So I still can’t use fighting type energy and I can’t use healing moves. I guess it’s not all that useful for me to learn how to transfer energy then, huh?”

Soren tilts his head. “l…wouldn’t say that. While you likely cannot use an energy transfer move that you see as violent, such as drain punch, you still need to practice your aura control to be able to navigate pathways and make connections from a distance, if you do desire such a skill.”

Nia perks up. Having the equivalent of an emotional cell phone to connect to the aura of others sounds pretty useful, even if Soren says that she won’t be able to go too far with her own small pool of life energy.

“I do!”

“Then I see no reason why you should not continue to practice.”

So Nia does. Over the next few hours, while Carnelian and Nouf continue to dig and Tobias and Junie talk, Nia pours her time and energy into following Soren’s intermittent coaching. She sends her aura out in webs to find Nouf and Carnelian, over and over, and eventually even gets up to go back the way they came so she can find her own team’s auras from a distance. She brushes by them with a gentle touch before rounding back and doing it again. Like laps, or repetitions in a workout.

Nia is exhausted by the end of the day and has to stumble her way out of the mountain leaning on a worried Tobias, but she feels accomplished, too.

—————————————————————————————

Fidel is nearly back to full health by the next morning, but between Eira’s cautious attitude and Nia and the others assuring the zoroark that he’s really not missing much down in the tunnels, Fidel reluctantly allows himself one more day of rest at the guest lodgings, leaving digger guard duty to Team Scarlet once again.

They stop by Nico's restaurant again on the way out to grab lunch, joining the small line that has formed there. Ahead of them, a large blue seal Pokemon with long white whiskers is comfortably settled into the snow. Atop her head, a gorgeous, giant white moth with crystalline wings is perched. The two women are talking happily with each other, and the energy in the seal's voice catches Nia’s attention.

“Eirwen said she’s finally ready to perform that new song she’s been working on!”

The moth Pokemon hums, sounding pleased. “It has been a while since we’ve had a new melody to dance to. I’m sure it’ll be lovely.”

“Mhm. The festivals wouldn’t be the same without her spicing them up every now and then!”

“A festival?” Nia can’t help asking.

The two ‘mon look behind them, surprised, and for a moment Nia is worried they’ll snub her question since she's an outsider. An eavesdropping outsider at that. But to her delight, the seal Pokémon’s face lights up.

“Oh, you’re the travelers!” The seal says, her whiskers twitching. “We heard that you helped out Lumi with her sled yesterday. Thank you. Her boy’s had a cold for a few days now, and we’re always saying that she needs to ask for help when she’s on her own but she’s so stubborn for someone so shy and—"

The moth Pokemon taps the seal’s head with a tiny foot that was previously hidden in her fluff.

“Oh, sorry!” The seal laughs. “Anyways, thank you. I know we aren’t always the most welcoming bunch to strangers, but Rora talked about how sweet all of you are.”

Nia blinks, her ears burning as she glances past the two Pokemon to where Rora is finishing up the order of the Pokemon in front of them: a penguin with an…ice cube for a head?

“O-Oh. Um, it’s no problem!” Nia says, smiling. “We’re happy to help.”

“What were you saying about a festival?” Junie asks.

“It’s not exactly a festival, per se,” the moth Pokemon says, her voice as delicate as her gossamer wings. Still, her tone is friendly enough. “More of a…small gathering for the village.”

“Yup!” The seal Pokemon says. “We do celebrate the usual holidays—winter births and all that—but this is just our monthly celebration."

“A celebration for what?” Tobias asks, brow furrowed.

“The Matriarch started the tradition a few years ago,” the moth Pokemon says, looking thoughtfully towards the head of the village. “I believe it’s to keep morale high during these troubled times. It gives us all something to look forward to, and a chance to bond and forget our problems for a night.”

“I think the Matriarch just wanted an excuse to throw a party every month,” the seal says jovially, giving them a wink. “But it’s all the same to me, as long as I get to dance.”

“So there’s music?” Nia asks.

“Yes!” The seal Pokemon says, doing an excited little flop that jostles the moth atop her head. “A few ‘mon perform for the village. We all dance around the bonfire and chat and enjoy a big meal together. You should come!”

Nia exchanges a surprised look with Tobias and Samir.

“We’re invited?” Tobias asks doubtfully.

The seal Pokemon laughs. “I think Rora would throw a fit if you weren’t there, and you’ve been nothing but polite since you’ve been here. Why not? I’m sure Eira and Carnelian would want you to come, too.”

“When is this shindig?” Junie asks eagerly.

“Tonight,” the moth Pokemon says.

“So don’t wear yourselves out too much today, all right?” The seal says playfully.

Before Nia or the others can respond, the muted thump of a little paw smacking on wood catches their attention.

“C’mon, ladies, I don’t have all day!” Rora calls playfully.

The seal barks a laugh and scoots up to the counter. “I know for a fact that you do, little flurry!”

While the two ‘mon in front of them order, Junie leans forward from her place on Nia’s shoulder to catch her attention. “So we’re totally going to that party tonight, yeah?”

“You mean the ‘small gathering,’” Tobias drawls.

Junie waves him off. “Psh. A party’s a party, and I wanna check it out! C’mon, we’ve been invited, so why not?”

Tobias and Samir exchange a reluctant look. Nia isn’t always a person who enjoys big parties herself, but she thinks they could use a bit of fun and festivity to balance out all the doom and gloom they’ve had to deal with recently. And Junie’s excitement is bringing to mind something from her human life: vague memories of her best friend Toni dragging her out to socialize. It makes Nia feel oddly nostalgic—and Nia did usually have fun once she went...

Mind made up, Nia turns to Tobias and Samir with puppy dog eyes to match Junie’s own.

“You two can go,” Tobias says. “Just don’t stay out too late so you’re ready to go tomorrow morning.���

Nia’s ears droop, disappointment hitting her harder than she expects. “You aren’t gonna come?”

“Yeah, c’mon! You need to loosen up more than anyone!” Junie crows.

“I’m not exactly a party Pokemon,” Tobias snarks, crossing his arms. At his side, Samir nods in agreement.

“They said there would be music, right?” Nia says hopefully. “Aren’t you curious to see how the music here is different from what you’re used to?”

Nia sees Tobias’ interest pique at that, though he’s clearly not sold.

“Could you just come for a little while?” Nia presses. “You can go back to the lodge as soon as you’re tired of it, and Junie and I won’t stop you.”

Tobias sighs. “Why does it matter so much if I’m there or not? You’ll have each other, right?"

“Yeah, but…” Nia trails off.

She pictures herself at the celebration with Junie and the villagers, dancing and having fun. She loves Junie, but the thought of being there without Tobias still makes her feel a little…lonely. She’s just happier when Tobias is with her, experiencing the world at her side. Even if it’s just for a little while.

“It wouldn’t be the same without you,” Nia says. Then, her face heats and she hurries to add to Samir, “Both of you. It’s more fun when we’re all together, right?”

Tobias and Samir look at each other again, their resolve faltering.

Finally, Tobias sighs. “Fine. I’ll come for a little while.”

Nia’s tail wags as Junie gives a little cheer. As one, they look at Samir.

The skiddo leans away, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. But after a long moment, they sigh and tilt their head at Tobias, as if to say, Same.

Nia joins Junie’s cheer this time, thrilled that she’ll have all of her friends with her tonight to experience the festivities.

“Ooh, what’s got you all so excited?”

Nia grins as she turns to Rora. They’ve reached the front of the line, and the vulpix is nearly hanging out the window, ears pricked and tails wagging.

“We’re excited about the party tonight!”

Rora’s blue eyes shine. “You’re going?! Oh, awesome! I’ll show you all of the best dances.”

The lightness in Nia’s chest buoys her all the way to the cave entrance, where they meet up again with Soren, Nouf, and Carnelian. She’s practically skipping across the snow, and she has to explain why she and Junie are so hyped when Soren gives them an irritated look, probably annoyed by the excitable energy their auras are putting off.

Carnelian, however, seems just as pleased as Rora that they’d been invited to join the festivities. Maybe he didn’t feel comfortable extending an invitation himself since he’s only been here for a few weeks? Eira, too, likely didn’t want to vouch for a whole group of strangers right after bringing Carnelian in.

Nia and Junie finally calm down by time they make it back to the dig site.

With this now being their third day down in the tunnels with little to do, Tobias has apparently reached the end of his rope with just sitting in the dark. It only takes a few minutes for him to get up and declare that he’s going to train too since he might as well do something down here, and Samir quickly joins him.

The two of them jog up and down the length of the tunnel, doing push-ups and other exercises between each lap. Eventually, the two ‘mon even start sparring, keeping their attacks to regular hits so they don’t cause damage to the tunnel structure with any moves.

Soren, notably, moves to watch them, trying look uninterested despite the way he physically has to relocate to get a closer look.

Guess even he gets bored eventually.

Nia follows their lead and continues to use her aura to navigate the pathways around them. She’s getting better at connecting to others from afar, locating Tobias and Samir farther down the tunnel and watching with interest as their auras flare and dim with bursts of exertion.

Junie sits on Nia’s lap and occasionally calls out to heckle Tobias and Samir when they pass by during their laps, teasing them about their speed or telling them to pick up their feet like a cranky gym teacher. When Tobias calls her out for criticizing them when she’s doing absolutely nothing, Junie hops down half the length of the tunnel on her tiny legs before giving up and returning to collapse into Nia’s lap.

Nia, who needed a break of her own anyways, releases her aura and smiles down at the little bird. “You good?”

“No,” Junie groans. She rolls over onto her back, splaying her wings wide. “I feel like such a wimp compared to all of you.”

Nia pokes her adorable little bird foot. “Well, you do literally have chicken legs.”

It’s the funny phrase that makes Nia remember.

“Oh!” she straightens up. “Junie, can you try something with me real quick?”

“As long as I don’t have to move,” Junie mumbles.

“You don’t. You remember when we first met the Matriarch, and she and Soren started talking in another language? You couldn’t understand them either, right?”

Junie rolls her head to look up at Nia. “No, I couldn’t. Why?”

“That made me think about what we realized in Ghatha! That we were speaking two different languages—well, three counting Ordirune—but still understanding each other just fine. Right?”

Junie frowns, but nods. “Yeah? I’m speaking German, but you said you’re speaking English, right?”

Nia nods. “Mhm! Tobias said that we’re both speaking Ordirune, though, so he thinks that Mew changed our brains so that we sort of…automatically translate our own languages into Ordirune when we speak, and hear others in our language even though they're speaking Ordirune. But not being able to understand Soren and the Matriarch made me wonder if we can still speak our own languages, too.”

“Huh.” Junie blinks. “You mean…avoiding that automatic translation thing so that other Pokemon would hear a foreign language?”

Nia nods. “Right! Want to try it with me?”

“I mean…sure? But I’ve been speaking German, and it still comes out Ordirune. So how do we fix that?”

Good question. Although, if it’s anything like aura…

“Maybe it’s a matter of…intent,” Nia says slowly. “Like, rather than just thinking, ‘I'm hungry,’ and saying it, you really focus on forming the words themselves.”

“Huh. Well, go on. Give it a go.”

Nia nods, opening and closing her mouth a few times as she tries to figure out where to start.

Nia had taken some Spanish classes in high school, and this sort of feels like how it felt to learn another language then. Consciously thinking of the correct words and sentence structure and molding her mouth to the syllables as she works through them.

Slowly, she tries it. “I…am hungry.”

Junie’s eyes light up. “Okay, my English is a bit shaky, but that was definitely different than Ordirune. Let me try.”

The little bird sits up, her face scrunching with concentration. Then slowly, stumbling, she says, “Ich...habe Hunger.”

Nia beams. “I didn’t understand a word you just said!”

“Klasse!” Junie laughs, hopping up.

“Success!” Nia cheers in the same tone, pumping her fists. “So that must mean it’s not really an automatic translator, then. More like...the knowledge of Ordirune was so strongly implanted into our minds that it feels more natural to default to that language than to our own native tongues. That is fascinating.”

“Okay, nerd.”

“What? You can’t say this isn’t interesting!”

“It’s kinda cool.”

“It’s very cool!”

“What’s cool?” Tobias asks, coming over to them.

He’s breathing hard after his latest spar with Samir, and immediately crouches to rummage through their pack. Probably looking for some hydration berries to refresh.

“We can still speak in our human languages!” Nia says excitedly. “It just takes a bit more focus than before.”

“Huh.” To Nia’s surprise, Tobias pulls out their water flask. Though she understands when he pulls out a bowl and pours some water into it, setting it down next to Samir.

Samir settles heavily on the cold ground, hesitating briefly before bending their head to lap at the water. Nia tries to look natural as she averts her eyes. Samir always seems weirdly embarrassed to drink in front of them. Maybe they used to use their vines to hold a flask like Nia and Tobias? It would feel weirdly humiliating to have to drink from a bowl after drinking with her hands her whole life.

Junie, on the other hand, has no shame despite her human roots. She hops to the skiddo’s side and dunks her beak to grab quick mouthfuls of water, like a songbird at a bird bath. She splashes Samir in the process, and the skiddo gives her an annoyed look.

Tobias sits too, handing the flask over to Nia to take a sip as he pops a hydration berry into his own mouth. “Say something in, uh…in your language, then.”

“Oh!” Junie pulls her wet face away from the bowl. “Hey, Tobias, you know what you are? Eine liebestolle echse.”

Tobias frowns, looking at Nia. “What did she say?”

Nia laughs and shrugs. “I have no idea. I don’t speak German. But I’m sure it wasn’t flattering.”

Junie smirks before going back to her water.

“You didn’t even do that much,” Tobias grumbles. “Stop drinking so much water.”

“Hey, that’s a long way to run for such little legs,” Nia says in English, her words still awkward and slow.

Junie laughs. “You’ve got that right!”

Tobias blinks at Nia. “Whoa. That is kind of cool.”

“Isn’t it?!”

This routine continues for hours, with their training interrupted only by lunch, short breaks to catch their breath, and moments every half hour or so where they have to get up and move forward to keep up with Carnelian and Nouf’s digging.

Nia asks Soren about the festivities planned for tonight during one of her breaks, and to her surprise the lucario doesn’t immediately brush her off. Instead, he confirms that many of his pack members will likely attend.

“Wait, you’re saying you guys actually have fun sometimes?” Junie says, only half-teasing.

Soren pinches at the skin between his eyes. “My pack does have friends in the village they like to spend time with, Rookidee. And it’s…good. For them to relax every once in a while.”

“Including you?” Nia asks, genuinely curious.

To her surprise, Soren almost seems…embarrassed. He looks away. “...The music is composed well. And the food is excellent.”

Junie whistles. “Wow, so you do know how to enjoy things!”

Nia gently clamps the little bird’s beak shut with her fingers. Soren’s being vulnerable here—she doesn’t want to immediately push him back into his shell!

“I’m excited to check it out!” Nia says brightly. “I know Tobias is excited about the music, too. What kind of instruments do they—"

Nia is interrupted as the sound of digging further down the tunnel suddenly grows loud, rocks clattering as something in the cave collapses.

Nia’s heart drops, her head whipping around as if she could see what just happened around the corner. What was that? A cave-in?

Soren is already pushing off the wall and running towards the diggers, and Nia hurries to follow, Junie fluttering to her shoulder while Nia gets her stiff legs under her.

“Tobias! Samir!” Nia yells over her shoulder. “Get down here!”

She runs for the end of the tunnel, expecting to see a pile of rubble and Soren rushing to dig Carnelian and Nouf out.

Instead, she staggers to a stop once she rounds the bend, surprised but relieved to see the sableye and piloswine are safe and sound. Soren is already at their side, his shoulders tense.

Behind them, the cave wall where Carnelian and Nouf had been digging hasn’t caved in, but instead opened up into a pre-existing tunnel. Through the narrow opening, the previously faint purple-red glow of the crystals intensifies, glowing as if lit by neon lights. It’s almost enough to hurt Nia’s eyes after the previous dimness of the tunnels.

However, Nia doesn’t think that’s why Soren is staring at the entrance like a maw full of teeth as the fur prickles on her arms and neck. No, there's something deeply wrong in the air suddenly. In the aura around them. Whereas the pathways of the world had been narrow and dried up before, the tunnel ahead feels…completely empty. Like a void.

“What’s wrong?” Tobias pants as he and Samir come running up behind Nia. The two of them stop as they too catch sight of the opening, glowing like a warning sign.

“Is that..?” Tobias whispers.

Nia nods. It has to be.

“Yveltal’s resting place,” Soren confirms, his voice hushed.

Nouf is silent as usual, but Carnelian looks unnerved by the tension in the air, wringing his claws and looking between all of them.

“W-What now?” The sableye asks.

“We have to confirm that Yveltal is inside,” Soren says. He moves to take the lead. “I can check. Stay here.”

“You are not going in there on your own,” Nia says, still staring at the gap. It feels like if she looks away, it’ll lunge and swallow her whole. “We came down here as a group for a reason.”

Soren glares at her. “I cannot guarantee your safety if you follow me.”

Tobias steps up to Nia’s side. “Duh. We’re Seekers. We signed up for danger.”

Soren makes an unhappy sound in his throat, but doesn’t argue further. Instead, he turns to Carnelian and Nouf next.

“You stay here. We’ll confirm.”

Nouf snuffles what Nia assumes to be an affirmative.

Carnelian, however, hesitates before shaking his head. “I-I…I want to see it. Him.”

That’s a surprise. Nia wonders if the little ghost actually wants to see Yveltal, or just the crystal runoff surrounding him.

Soren’s mouth twists, but he doesn’t bother arguing with Carnelian, either. The lucario’s eyes keep flicking back to the tunnel, as if he feels just as uncomfortable with the black hole of aura as Nia does.

“Stay close,” is all Soren says, before squeezing through the gap and into the glowing tunnel.

Nia exchanges a tense look with the others, then gestures Carnelian in next. She doesn’t know exactly what lies ahead, but if they were in a dungeon they’d take a formation like this. It’s important to keep their escort safely sandwiched between capable fighters.

The sableye slips in after Soren, followed by Nia and Junie, then Samir, then Tobias.

Inside, Nia blinks to adjust to the purple-red glow surrounding them. The crystals completely cover the walls here, and Nia has to step over some clusters on the ground as they start to venture forward. It would be beautiful if the air didn’t feel so…wrong.

Junie tucks herself closer to Nia’s neck, and the group moves forward in tense silence. The ceiling of the tunnel is just high enough for Soren to walk without crouching, but Nia can’t tell if it’s the cramped nature of the tunnel or just the sheer lack of aura that makes her heart pound and fear brush at the back of her neck. Normally, Nia doesn’t consciously notice the aura around her unless she’s looking for it, but the sudden lack of it is…unsettling. Like walking through the forest and realizing that there isn’t a single sound—no trees rustling, no birdsong or bugs.

Lifeless.

The feeling only grows as they move forward, and the roaring of Nia’s pulse in her ears is only accompanied by the quiet footsteps of the others.

“O-Okay, is anyone else super freaked out right now?” Junie whispers in a rush, her voice shaking. Oh, wait, all of her is shaking.

“I am,” Nia murmurs, reaching up to cup her hand over her friend and stroke her thumb over the feathers on her back. “There’s no aura here.”

Like it’s been drained away, sucked into the nothingness ahead of them.

No one else responds, and Nia doesn’t blame them. They’re likely feeling the same way. Even whispering feels like she’s breaking some rule, like talking in church when she shouldn’t, waiting to be shushed by an adult.

It feels endless, their trek forward. Especially when Nia feels like she’s being hunted every step of the way. She keeps her eyes on Carnelian in front of her, and the awe in his gemstone eyes as he looks around at the glowing crystals is a small comfort. Ahead of them, they’re lead by Soren’s steady, unflinching form.

Finally, they round a bend in the tunnel, and the air around them opens up.

A soft purple-red glow fills the room, crystals outlining an absolutely massive, cavernous space. The ceiling has to be at least a mile up, the glow of crystals there like distant stars.

But Nia’s eyes are drawn to the one dark spot amidst the light: a massive gray…stone? It sits amidst a burst of crystals in the center of the room, like an egg in a nest. It looks almost like a meteor, the size of it larger than a bus.

However, it’s the thing’s aura that makes Nia’s breath catch as she realizes what she’s looking at. Nia thought that since their surroundings were lacking life energy, Yveltal somehow would be, too. However, this is…something else entirely.

Yveltal’s aura is immense. Dense, like carbon pressed so tightly it has become a diamond. A galaxy packed within a single star.

Will and Fidel said that Yveltal consumes life energy when he wakes, right? And that when he sleeps, he goes somewhere barren to siphon that energy off into the environment. Since it's so lifeless here, maybe that means that energy disperses far away, draining outward to nourish more fruitful areas?

Either way, if this is Yveltal after sleeping for who knows how long...then this isn’t even Yveltal at his strongest. And yet the sheer amount of energy present makes Nia tremble.

The others stand around Nia with the same air of awestruck fear, gazing silently upon Yveltal’s cocoon.

“Well,” Tobias finally breathes. “He’s here.”

“That he is,” Soren says, quiet. Nia can’t tell how he feels about the statement. “We shouldn’t linger. If he is roused early, he may go on a rampage. And with the border as weak as it is and without Xerneas to calm him, we would simply be hurrying along the end of the world ourselves.”

Nia shivers, glancing up at Soren. “I-Is it that easy to wake him up?”

Soren frowns. “I don’t believe we would wake him with our mere presence, no. It would likely take a purposeful attack or disturbance. Still, I want to be cautious.”

Understandable. “Time to report to the Matriarch, then?”

Soren nods.

The lucario leads them back to the tunnel they entered from, ushering them through first. Tobias takes the lead this time, followed closely by Samir.

Nia glances back once more at the cocoon before she follows. It’s terrifying, of course, feeling that power and imagining what sort of destruction it could wreak if awoken, but it’s also sort of—

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Carnelian whispers. Nia jumps, but turns to meet the sableye’s glittering eyes. He grins at her, clearly more delighted than fearful. Nia supposes his love of crystals overrides the sheer intimidating presence of Yveltal. Plus, aren’t sableye dark types? Maybe this is like…meeting his own personal god.

“Scary,” Nia laughs under her breath. “But…yes. Beautiful too.”

Carnelian snickers. “Agreed!”

Junie, on Nia’s shoulder, is still silent. Nia strokes her back again as they walk. “You okay, Junie?”

“Y-Yeah,” Junie breathes. “Just…a little overwhelmed, I guess.”

Nia hums her agreement. She can’t stop thinking about the sheer amount of aura she’d felt in that cocoon. Is that the power of a legendary in this world?

Does that mean Giratina is that strong, too? No, Nia supposes he isn't, considering he can’t even bring them to his realm anymore. Maybe when he was at full power?

Although…if Yveltal is still that powerful even after draining some of his energy, does that mean Giratina’s speculation was right? That he and Xerneas have managed to avoid the weakening and dormancy that the other legends have fallen to?

Hope balloons in Nia’s chest. She’d been so awestruck she hadn’t even realized what Yveltal’s presence means for their plan to save the world. Now that they’ve confirmed his location, then that means Xerneas must be sleeping nearby, right? Will and Fidel said that they usually sleep within sight of one another, so that when one wakes, then the other is ready to balance them out.

Which means they have a shot. If they can just find Xerneas, wake her, and convince her to strengthen the border, maybe they really can save this world!

And after that, Nia can finally go home, too.

The thought is bittersweet, but surely if the border is stabilized and everything is all right again, Will and Giratina can focus on figuring out how to send them back.

"But souls do not simply wander."

Nia frowns as Soren’s words from yesterday echo in her head. Sure, he might be right, but that doesn’t mean anything, really. Maybe this world…called out to the human one for help, and certain people fit the bill for whatever reason.

Nia tries not to think about it too much because it makes her uncomfortable, but her body must be sleeping in the human world. Like…in a coma or something. Or maybe there are some time shenanigans going on and she’ll wake up there as if no time has passed, like this was all just a crazy dream. She wishes she could remember what she was doing in the human world before she woke up here, but her memory is still spotty.

Nia takes a deep breath and shakes her head, as if to slough off her anxious thoughts and mixed emotions. She tries not to think about her family too often nowadays, since she has enough worries to deal with in this world, and her friends are usually a great distraction from that.

But when she does think of her family in the human world, she feels that old ache reopen in her chest, fresh as the day she woke up here.

She misses baking together with her mom and hearing her laughter when Nia inevitably gets flour in her hair somehow. She misses her brother, dousing her with a water gun under the hot summer sun and dragging her with a shriek into the lake. She misses her best friend Toni, and late nights spent driving around their little hometown with the windows rolled down and music blaring. She misses the excitement of preparing for college, the nervous anticipation of going away from home for the first time and seeing the world, of finding who and what she wanted to be.

But…

Nia swallows hard as her gaze flicks down to her shoulder, where Junie is a puddle of blue and black feathers under her hand. Then she looks ahead to Samir, the skiddo’s head held high and their ears pricked, alert as always. Then further, to Tobias.

Her partner. Her best friend in this world.

Grief stabs Nia in the heart, harder than she expects and nearly taking her breath away. She wants to go home, she does, but…some part of her wants to stay here, too. Wants to continue going on adventures with Tobias, and learning more about him, and strengthening their teamwork with Samir, and laughing and teasing with Junie.

Nia thinks about waking up in the human world and knowing that she’ll never see Tobias’ little smirks or soft blue eyes again. Never feel Samir’s reassuring presence, or hear Junie’s loud laughter.

Tears prick hot at her eyes. Nia swallows hard against the lump in her throat. No more Maggie, or Fen, or Xander and his team, or even Andyn, despite how poor their relationship is right now. No Fliss, or Will, or Fidel, or…

Nia sniffs, bringing up her other hand to swipe at her eyes.

Junie, of course, notices, and pushes Nia off with a wing to look up at her with wide, panicked eyes. “Whoa! Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

That, unfortunately, catches everyone else’s attention too, and their procession through the tunnel stops as Tobias and Samir turn around immediately.

“Nia?” Tobias asks, looking ready to push past Samir to reach her side. His gaze flickers past her and Carnelian to focus on Soren for a moment before returning. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” Nia laughs, embarrassed and a little watery. “Sorry. Was just...thinking about some stuff. I’m okay.”

Tobias seems uncertain. He glances at the others, as if wishing the two of them were alone so he could press for answers. “You sure?”

Nia gives him a smile, warmed by his concern. “I'm sure. Sorry. You can keep going.”

Tobias doesn’t look convinced, but after another moment of hesitation he turns around and starts leading them forward again, casting a worried look over his shoulder after a few seconds. Samir does the same before following.

“You sure you’re okay?” Junie murmurs.

“Yeah,” Nia says with a smile, shoving thoughts of her family out of her head like she does most days. “I'm fine.”

—————————————————————————————

They make it back to Nouf and then out of the mountain entirely without any further incident, and head right away to the Matriarch’s residence to inform her of their findings. Nouf peels off at some point to go about her business, and Nia can’t help feeling amused by that. The piloswine really did show up to do her job, found a god, and then clocked out as soon as she wasn’t needed. What a power move.

Finally, they find the Matriarch back in the same cozy little room they’d first met her. The weavile is sitting in her chair again, ice cane laid across her lap and a clawed paw at her chin. She doesn’t seem surprised by their findings.

“So Yveltal does indeed sleep beneath our mountain.” The Matriarch looks up at them. “Not that that changes much for us, but that is the news you were hoping for, yes?”

Nia nods. Recovered from her earlier near-breakdown, she’s feeling hopeful again. “Right. Since Yveltal is here, that means Xerneas should be somewhere close by. Within eyesight of the mountains, hopefully.”

“Somewhere lush,” Tobias adds, crossing his arms with a frown. “Though that could describe a lot of different places.”

“If we can only narrow it down to ‘places that aren’t totally dead,’ we’re gonna be searching for a while,” Junie says. She flutters over to land on Samir’s horns. “There are all kinds of places like that surrounding these mountains, right?”

Samir huffs and whistles a Yes, their brow furrowed as they try to glare up at the rookidee using them as a perch.

Soren speaks up. “Much like how Yveltal’s surroundings are entirely void of aura, Xerneas’ resting place would be overflowing with it. Nature as a result would likely not only be thriving, but would show abnormal levels of growth.”

Abnormal levels of growth? That immediately brings one place to mind for Nia. After all, they live in an abnormally large tree.

...Surely that can’t be it.

Still, the idea won’t leave her. The Lexym Tree is the tallest tree in the forest, after all, many times over. Nia had wondered at its size before, but never really questioned how it grew to such a massive state. And while she hasn’t been to all of the places within eyesight of the mountains, the Lexym Guild is the only location she can remember really standing out from their various flights.

But surely that couldn’t be Xerneas’ resting place, right? Someone would have to know about it if that was the case. Know that a literal god has been sleeping under their feet the whole time. August, at the very least, but he sent them on this mission to find Xerneas. Plus, they literally have tunnels under the guild, and those only go out to the forest, so—

Wait. A past conversation is tickling at Nia’s brain, from their mission digging out the cave-in under the guild with Abana and Conifer.

“There are more tunnels, deeper down, but they are not easily reached, wrapped in the Tree’s roots as they are. They’re surrounded by a wall too thick to dig through without risk of damaging the Tree itself.”

“I asked one of the older diggers about it once, and he said they used to be storage bunkers before they became too inconvenient to access. They haven’t been used in decades, at least.”

Nia screws up her face, trying to talk herself out of the thought. It just sounds so unbelievable, that they could’ve been sitting right on top of something so important for so long, but…

“Nia?”

Nia jumps at Tobias’ voice, looking up. Everyone is watching her expectantly, and her ears heat.

“Y-Yeah?”

“You’ve been awful quiet over there,” Junie says, tilting her head. “Whatcha thinking?”

Nia swallows, glancing nervously between all of their expectant gazes. “Well…it’s probably a silly thought.” Especially if no one else has thought of it yet.

“Sometimes ‘silly’ is correct,” The Matriarch says. “Speak your mind, girl.”

“I was just thinking of places that stand out as having abnormal growth, and, uh…what about the guild?”

For a long moment, everyone stares at Nia, and she fights off a cringe. Guess that was a stupid idea after all.

Soren is the first to speak, his brow furrowed. “The Lexym Tree is exceptionally large.”

“But there are tunnels under the guild, right?” Junie asks. “Wouldn’t they know if there was a giant Pokemon sleeping down there by now?”

“No,” Tobias says, his eyes widening with realization. He locks eyes with Nia. “Abana and Conifer said something about storage deeper down, didn’t they? That there were roots blocking the space so no one had been down there for decades.”

“If not longer,” Nia agrees. “And there are crystals down in the tunnels.”

“Carnelian, when you were at the guild, did you go down into the tunnels at all?” Tobias asks, turning to the sableye.

Carnelian jumps. “N-No, I didn’t. I stayed the night in the guest quarters, and then hurried here the next morning.”

The Matriarch laughs and slaps her knee with a paw, startling them. “Oh, that’s rich. She’s been sleeping right under our noses this whole time! I knew the gods had a sense of humor.”

Nia blinks at her. “You think we’re right? Xerneas could really be sleeping under the guild?”

The weavile is grinning. “I’ve lived in these mountains for decades, and I can’t think of anywhere else that better matches what you’re lookin’ for ‘round here.”

Nia looks back at her team. “What do you think? Do we propose the idea to August?”

“Might as well,” Junie says with a shrug.

Samir gives Nia a nod.

“I think it’s worth checking out, at the very least,” Tobias says, giving Nia a smile. “Good thinking.”

Nia smiles back, tail wagging at the praise.

“I’m guessing you’ll be wanting to leave sooner rather than later, then?” The Matriarch asks. “If so, I’ll arrange a sleigh to take you all down the mountainside tomorrow morning. There’s a flight station near the base that can take you back to the guild.”

“That would be great,” Tobias sighs.

“Thank you,” Nia adds.

“And since we’ll be leaving tomorrow morning, that means we can still go to the party tonight!” Junie says happily.

The Matriarch laughs. “I was more hoping to give you time to rest and time for us to prepare to travel, but you’re more than welcome to join the festivities tonight.“ She winks. “Just don’t stay out too late.”

Nia laughs at Tobias and Samir’s expressions. “I don’t think that'll be a problem.”

The rest of their meeting with the Matriarch wraps up quickly. The only other business to attend to is Soren telling the weavile that he plans to station sentries from the pack at Yveltal’s resting place starting tomorrow morning. When Nia and the others give him a startled look, he assures them it’s just a precautionary measure to make sure no one disturbs the legendary. Which she supposes is fair—the path there is pretty accessible if you know where to look.

Soon enough, they’re back in their lodgings, resting up for the festivities later that night.

Fidel’s eyes are round as he listens intently to their description of Yveltal’s cocoon, and Nia is reminded that the zoroark had known the most about the legendary back at the settlement due to being a dark type himself. Maybe he also worships Yveltal, to some extent.

“It sounds incredible,” Fidel says when they finish. He seems entirely healed up from his injuries, well enough to walk around on his own and agree to Junie’s request that he too join the party tonight. “I wish I could’ve seen it for myself!”

“Well, it’s not too hard to find,” Nia says idly from where she’s lying on their blankets, kicking her feet with a book open on the ground in front of her. “And Soren isn’t posting sentries until tomorrow, so you could probably still check it out tonight if you’re feeling all right.”

“Is that a good idea?” Tobias asks doubtfully.

“We’ve been going back and forth down the same path for days,” Junie says. “With his nose, I don’t think he’d get lost.”

Tobias rolls his eyes. “I meant that we don’t want to accidentally wake an angry god and break the world.”

“Fidel’s light on his feet,” Nia says, turning a page. “I doubt he would accidentally wake Yveltal. Still, one of us can go with you if you want to check it out, Fidel!”

“As long as it’s before the party,” Junie adds.

Tobias sighs. “I still don’t get why you two are so excited about this thing.”

At his side, Samir nods their agreement. They’re only half paying attention, skimming through their own book.

“You’re not looking forward to it?” Fidel asks Tobias, amused.

“I’m only going ‘cause these two will be insufferable if I don’t.”

“Dang right I will be!” Junie says.

Nia laughs, her heart light despite the enormity of their discovery today. They have a location to look for Xerneas, a promised ride down the mountainside tomorrow morning, and a party to look forward to tonight.

She can’t wait.

[thetomorrowshow]

love is such a drag - ch. 8

chapter title: either Grian or Scar is the most oblivious person in the world and I'm really not sure which one

sorry about the long wait, please enjoy!

~

Technically, they aren’t allowed to do wheelchair races with the rental chair that Scar had gotten to try out. On its insurance, he is the only one allowed to operate it.

That doesn’t stop them from marking a section of the sidewalk with chalk and trading off turns with the chair to see who can get the best time.

“Go!” Ren says, and Scar speeds off, already easily the best at using the chair. Scar’s roommate, Cub, turns to Grian.

The speed at which sweat is suddenly rolling down Grian’s back should easily break a record of some sort.

He’s been avoiding Cub the whole time the four of them have been hanging out. After all, Cub is the only one of this group that has met Grian as—well, as Grian. And Ariana. Other than Scar that time or two, but Scar clearly hadn’t recognized him and Grian’s pretty sure Cub will.

Grian’s been on edge the entire afternoon. While they’ve been in a group, Cub hasn’t said a single word to him. All he’s done so far is vaguely stare at Grian. So basically, it’s confirmed that he knows. Even though he’s passing pretty well, if he does say so himself.

He put a bit of effort into this outfit. He’s gone for a full face of natural make-up and a short, butterfly-patterned skirt. That, paired with a pink jacket and his hair extensions framing his face, really just makes him look more like a girl and less like a drag queen.

But Cub has clearly clocked him, and now the two of them are alone together.

“He really likes you,” Cub says, eyes boring deep into Grian’s lying soul. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like someone this much.”

On the one hand, that makes Grian’s heart give a little flutter. He’s special. He isn’t just the next girl in line that Scar likes, he’s different from the others.

The rest of him floods with something akin to mortifying despair. Scar really, really likes him. He isn’t this way with every other person.

And Grian likes Scar a lot.

What is he supposed to do?

Well, right now he can at least tell something of the truth.

“I like him a lot,” admits Grian. “He’s . . . he’s so passionate, and funny, and such a good listener. He’s everything I’ve never really had in a boyfriend, you know?”

Cub raises an eyebrow. “Scar? A good listener? Hm.”

Grian nods. “Yeah,” he says. “He’s—I really like him.” He’s blushing now, so he cuts himself off before he says something embarrassing like how much he likes Scar’s eyes and the smell of his cologne and the feel of his lips.

“You were mumbling, what was that?”

“Nothing!”

It’s clear as day that Cub does not like him, and even clearer that he knows that Grian’s tricking Scar. If it wasn’t in the look in his eyes as he surveys Grian, it was definitely in his tone when he said hm.

“I don’t want him getting hurt,” Cub says. He stuffs his hands in his coat pockets, looking down on Grian like a stern businessman firing his intern. “So you aren’t gonna do that, right?”

Grian quickly shakes his head, not trusting himself to speak.

“Good,” Cub nods. Then, awkwardly, he adds, “and . . . Scar’s a pretty chill guy. If you haven’t told him . . . something, you probably don’t have anything to worry about.”

Grian blinks.

Cub makes a face where his lips disappear into his mouth.

“Dude, that was only thirty-seven seconds! That’s your best score yet!”

Eager for a distraction from whatever is happening, Grian turns toward Ren and Scar, Scar still in the wheelchair, grinning ear-to-ear.

“Ari, your turn!” Scar calls out to him, accepting Ren’s hand as he helps him into the folding chair that they had set up on the sidewalk.

“I don’t even know how,” Grian protests. Ren grabs his hand nonetheless and drags him to the wheelchair.

“Give it a shot, dudette!”

Maybe this wasn’t the best day to wear a short skirt. Grian can only pray that it doesn’t flip up in the wind.

And then, because he can, Grian pulls away from Ren and leans down to Scar, kissing him quickly on the lips before pulling away.

“Kiss for good luck, yeah?” Grian says, hoping with all his might that he isn’t blushing as badly as he thinks he is. If Ren’s look of utter delight means anything, then he probably is.

“Y-yeah,” Scar stutters, looking like he swallowed his quick tongue as he stares dumbfounded at Grian. Grian tries his best to give him a little grin before sitting in the wheelchair, carefully tucking his skirt between his thighs with shaking hands.

“Um, one more?” Scar asks, his fingers tracing over his own lips. “For luck, of course.”

Grian snorts. “You can have one after I win.”

Now why does he go and say things like that?

(He doesn’t win, obviously. He doesn’t even know how to use the wheelchair.)

(He does kiss Scar again, though.)

-

“We’re in big trouble, guys,” Grian announces at large when he gets home, tossing his keys onto the counter. Mumbo looks up from washing dishes.

“A date?” he asks, the disapproval clear in his voice—which, okay, fair, but Grian really does not need that kind of judgment right now.

“More so hanging out,” he waves off. He toes off his sneakers without undoing the laces and leaves them right in the entryway, sure to annoy Pearl whenever she comes in and accidentally wedges one under the door. “It was fun, but that isn’t the issue. The issue is that I think his roommate knows.”

Mumbo’s mouth twists, his mustache bristling in ways that shouldn’t muscularly be possible. “How is that a problem?”

Unbelievable. Grian stops in his tracks, his coat still half off, and stares at Mumbo as incredulously as he can muster.

“Because he knows,” he says slowly. “He absolutely knows. And we talk about everything, so they probably also talk about everything, so Cub will immediately tell Scar.”

Mumbo stops washing the dishes, setting one last dripping plate into the dish drainer and turning off the water. One last bubble floats over to Grian, but pops before he can reach out to it.

Mumbo doesn’t stop there. He dries his hands with the towel hanging over the oven handle, taking his time to get every particle of water out from in between the cracks of his fingers and palms. He carefully arranges the towel back in its place, laid out as flat as possible, then spends a moment fixing his hair in the faucet’s reflection.

When he’s finally done micromanaging every little thing, Mumbo sighs deeply and rests his arms on the counter separating him and Grian, fixing him with an oddly tired look. “Okay? Then you don’t have to tell him. That’s kind of your whole deal, right? You don’t want to be the one to break the news?”

Grian shrugs his coat off the rest of the way, tossing it onto the couch. “That’s not true at all,” he says. Honestly, that’s so gross of an oversimplification that it’s barely the same issue. “Whether it’s me telling him or someone else, I’m still the one breaking his heart,” he explains. “If I can tell him, I control the narrative. It would be so easy for this Cub character to make me out to be a bad guy, and Scar would totally believe it!”

Another long Mumbo stare. If looks could kill, Mumbo’s wouldn’t. It would probably vaguely hurt, like the sun on a high UV day prickling against one’s skin or a shock from one of those trick handshake buzzers. Do they even make those anymore? Grian hasn’t seen one since he was a kid, and only ever on TV.

“Grian,” Mumbo starts after he’s had his fill of staring, “pardon me for saying this—do you honestly think you’re the good guy?”

That brings Grian up short, fully distracting him from his thoughts of old toy infomercials.

The good guy?

“Well, I—I’m not the bad guy,” he sputters. He isn’t! He’s just doing the best he can to make a bad situation sort of bearable. Is that a bad guy thing? Do bad guys kiss the man they have a crush on? Do bad guys go on dates with him just because they like him? Would bad guys risk everything to find where he lives to make sure he’s okay?

No. No, they wouldn’t do any of that. He isn’t a bad guy—he’s as much of a victim as Scar, if not more! Grian really, really likes Scar, so much that it’s put him in the worst position in the world as he tries to figure out what to do next. Scar just has to sit there for the ride, Grian has to figure out how to drive this thing.

However, with the way Mumbo keeps glaring at him with his vaguely-painful look, Grian has a feeling that he doesn’t agree with that assessment.

“You decided to lead him on from the beginning,” Mumbo accuses, jabbing a finger at him in all but the motion. “You kept it going for free food, date after date after date. You’ve had so many chances to tell him the truth and you didn’t take any of them. You—mate, you kissed him! You went to a Valentine’s Day dance with him and kissed him!”

“Well, I—” Grian has to defend himself from this traitorous turn of events, but he doesn’t even know what to say! It’s like every word has flown out of his body, replaced by the sound of static between his ears. “I—you told me to ghost him! That would’ve been worse!”

“It would’ve been better to abandon him than keep dragging on the kill for weeks!”

Grian scoffs. “Okay, that’s a little dramatic.”

“Is it?” Mumbo laughs a little, almost hysterically. “Is it? Dude, you’re literally like some sort of Sahara desert animal, a—a lion, wounding your prey one leg at a time until it can’t escape you!”

Mumbo pauses. “Well, that’s a bit insensitive of a metaphor,” he says, having the decency to look at least a little ashamed. “I wasn’t talking about—what I mean is that you could have ended this at any time and you’ve chosen not to. Have you even thought about how Scar might feel?”

“That’s the whole problem!” Grian says, voice rising as hot anger rises in his throat. “Of course I’ve thought about how Scar feels, that’s all I’ve thought about!”

That’s why he can’t tell him! He can’t break his heart like that, not after Scar’s so deeply enamored with him—with Ariana. He can’t hurt him.

Mumbo snorts. “Right. Because you definitely aren’t thinking about your own feelings or anything.”

No! He isn’t!

All Grian wants to do is grab a dish from the drainer and chuck it at—at the wall, or at Mumbo, or something. How dare—how dare he? Mumbo’s supposed to be on his side, he’s supposed to help Grian pick out clothes for his dates and commiserate about how hard this whole ordeal is, because last Grian knew he wasn’t the bad guy!

He doesn’t throw anything, though. He turns and storms into the living room, making aborted little punches at his side instead of hitting the wall. “You’re supposed to be my best mate,” he says, and to his unfortunate not-surprise, there’s suddenly tears burning under his eyes. So what, he angry-cries. That just makes him more tender-hearted. At least Mumbo can’t see his eyes, turned away as he is.

“Sometimes your best mate has to set you straight.”

“Yeah, well, neither of us are straight, so that doesn’t really work.”

Behind him, Mumbo lets out a frustrated sigh. Grian keeps looking at the living room wall, the glass sliding doors that lead out to their tiny balcony with the single dead plant sitting in a frozen pot on the railing.

The kitchen tiles creak. Grian doesn’t move, doesn’t let his teeth unclench. If this is Mumbo’s version of support, it’s working worse than a stretched-out bra with the underwire pulled out.

“I’m going to go study,” Mumbo declares haughtily. Finally, Grian turns, sees him standing by the front door, his backpack in his hands. “I’ll see you later.”

Grian doesn’t say anything. He watches as Mumbo sets down his backpack to take his coat from the hanger and swing it on, then pick his backpack back up and open the door.

At the last moment, he turns around, catches Grian’s eye. He’s angry too, Grian notices, his lips pulled in a tight line.

“Cub’s a good chap, by the way,” he says, almost begrudgingly. “But he’ll call it as he sees it.”

Then the door slams closed, and Grian is left alone with his anger and—and other, indiscernible feelings, all roiling together in one big pot.

And he still has to change out of drag.

Perhaps too aggressively, Grian tugs his extensions out of his hair, barely bothering to unclip them before yanking. How was it Mumbo’s business what he did about the Scar situation? Honestly, Mumbo should be glad he was asked for an opinion at all.

Not to mention, Mumbo’s been encouraging him! He helped him pick a Valentine’s outfit, and set up the plan with the study group, and helped him figure out Scar’s address. How on earth can he choose to get all high and mighty now?

“It just came out of nowhere,” Grian reasons aloud, shaking his head.

“Not really.”

Grian probably jumps two feet in the air, his arms going up to instinctively cover his face as a scream tears from his throat. He was alone in the apartment and now he isn’t—

Pearl is standing behind him, an empty glass in her hand. She raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

Grian just tries to get his heartrate down to something resembling normal. “Pearl! I—I didn’t know you were home!”

“You didn’t check.”

Hey, wait a second. “What did you say? About—about the thing with Mumbo?”

Pearl moves away toward the kitchen sink to fill her glass. “I mean, really, Grian. Mumbo’s kind of been against this the whole time. I think he was just building up the courage to tell you.”

Grian can’t pretend that doesn’t hurt. He flops down on the couch, doing his best not to hyperventilate from the heart attack he just had.

It isn’t so much the fact that Mumbo doesn’t agree that hurts, but more that Mumbo was afraid to talk to him about it. Did he expect Grian to blow up in his face? He wouldn’t do that!

Mumbo first was afraid of him, and then betrayed him. Or, rather, both at the same time. And man, it hurts.

“I don’t care,” he tries. Pearl almost chokes on her water.

“I do!”

Grian almost jumps again, his heartrate shooting right back up, as another head pokes out of Pearl’s room. A girl with curly red hair and freckles grins brightly at him.

“Who are you?” Grian demands. The girl giggles.

“I’m Gem,” she says, stepping into the living room and offering him her hand. “I like your breasts.”

“Thanks, I bought them myself,” Grian says reflexively, shaking her hand. Her grip is stronger than he’d expected, squeezing his hand like those people who grip food unreasonably hard and post pictures of it. “Why are you here?”

“We’re studying,” Pearl says. Gem nods.

“I’m totally invested in this whole thing now,” Gem whispers. “I have to give you my Snap, I need to stay updated on this. Please add me to your private story.”

Grian stares at her.

Honestly, maybe Mumbo wouldn’t yell at him if he sent him all his updates through Snapchat.

Maybe someone would finally give him useful advice.

-

“Hey, Scar? Can we talk?”

The good guy that he is, Scar is washing the dishes, the way he always does (even when it isn’t his turn!). He’s just gotten started after zero cajoling from Cub, but if he forgets while having this talk that’ll be on Cub’s head, not his own.

Scar shuts off the water and shakes the droplets off his hands. They used to have a towel hanging around here somewhere, but Scar used it two days ago to try and catch a stray cat and he doesn’t think anyone has replaced it.

“Of course, Cubby,” he says, turning around on his stool to face both Cub and Ren. They’ve been conspiring together on the couch since Scar used the restroom earlier, muttering secret plans in low voices and casting wary glances toward him whenever he looked at them. Now both of them look slightly uncomfortable, like this isn’t a conversation they think they want to have.

They’re probably going to ask him how he treats Ariana, aren’t they? Well, no worries there! He hasn’t done a single ungentlemanly thing toward her since they met. They have nothing to be concerned about in those regards.

Cub exchanges a secret look with Ren, before apparently deciding to take the lead. “Scar, how do you feel about . . . trans people?”

“Well, Cub, that depends on what you mean,” Scar responds, frowning. “Transmitter people? Translators? Transcribers? I think transmitter people sounds kind of like aliens, so I’m going to have to say I don’t feel great about them.”

Cub sighs. “Transgender people.”

Well, this is a little awkward, because Scar doesn’t exactly know what that is. He can gather that it has something to do with gender, but the prefix of trans isn’t clearing anything up. People who send their gender to other people? Can you send a gender?

“Now, I know exactly what you’re talking about,” Scar says. “But for the sake of Ren, could you explain what transgender means real quick?”

Cub blinks. Looks at Ren. Ren shrugs. Cub turns back to Scar. “You know, people whose gender doesn’t align with their bodies? Like, when someone who’s born a guy transitions to be a girl?”

“Oh, oh, oh!” Scar nods. He’s heard of that! Scott mentioned it once or something, and he can remember seeing stuff in the news about it. Really, Scar doesn’t know what the whole fuss is. Let people be themselves, and all that.

“So . . . how do you feel about trans people?” Cub prods. Again, Scar frowns.

“Well, once I meet a trans person, I’ll let you know!” he says graciously. He doesn’t quite get how trans people are different from normal people, but maybe they have an extra bellybutton or something. That would certainly be a detail he would have to consider in his decision.

Ren’s jaw drops. “Scar, I’m a trans person,” he says incredulously.

Wait.

What?

“But—” Scar glances between him and Cub, both of whom appear quite taken aback. “But you aren’t a girl!”

Ren barks out a surprised laugh. “Kinda the point, dude,” he says.

“You knew about Ren,” Cub insists. “You definitely knew.”

“I most certainly did not!” Scar retorts, his chest puffing up. “Wait, so—Ren, are you going to become a girl?”

“No, I used to be a girl,” Ren corrects. “You knew that!”

Scar shakes his head insistently. “But you’re so . . . Ren!” he says, trying to imagine Ren as a girl. He can’t make it work. “You’re a guy!”

“Tell that to my insurance,” Ren snorts. “But I appreciate the gender euphoria, my dude!”

“You knew that,” Cub repeats, still looking dumbfounded. “You brought Ren soup after his top surgery last spring break.”

Scar has no clue what top surgery is, but he does remember Ren getting a big chest surgery over spring break. He helped him out the whole time, seeing as Ren’s roommates had all gone home for the break. Scar practically lived in that apartment the entire week. “Wait, did you get your—uh, your things removed?” he asks, gesturing to his chest. “You had those?”

Ren is no longer laughing, back to matching Cub’s surprise. “Uh, yeah? Scar, my man, you gave me a sponge bath. You saw my bits!”

“I’m not the kind of man to pay attention to what another man has in his pants,” Scar tells him, turning his nose up.

“You literally knew me as a girl,” Ren continues. “Freshman year? I lived next door?”

And—

Hey, now that Ren mentions it, Scar does remember that one girl with the brown hair and the loud voice next door, False’s then-roommate. They had been pretty good friends until she stopped showing up and False started rooming with Ren instead.

Wait a minute.

“I thought she moved!” Scar says, just as astonished as the two of them. “You were her?”

A beat passes before Ren bursts into howling laughter, clutching at his sides. Cub still hasn’t stopped staring at him.

With a sudden intake of breath, Cub pinches the bridge of his nose under his glasses. He does that sometimes when Scar starts telling him about Disney. “Cool,” Cub says after he breathes out in a hiss of air. “Anyways—dude, stop laughing.”

“I can’t! Scar—he actually—”

“Anyways, the point is we wanted to talk about Ariana,” Cub starts, and Scar can’t help the way he immediately blushes just at the mention of his love’s name.

Nope, there’s no way he can convince them of his chivalry. He’ll start stammering and something inappropriate will slip out.

To save himself any embarrassment, Scar stands up, grabbing the walker set beside him (though he’d really prefer his cane). “Sorry, gentlemen,” he says, nodding to both Cub and the now-rolling Ren. “Speaking of Ari, I have to go call her.”

He doesn’t plan to do anything of the sort. He just needs to get away before anything untoward is said.

“Scar, wait—”

Scar strides away toward the bedroom as quickly as his legs will allow him and shuts the door, leaving Cub and Ren alone in the kitchen.

He really has no idea why they brought up trans people. How strange.

[coralhoneyrose]

Preview passage for the next Half Orange chapter to celebrate the fact that I finally had a day where I was able to write something semi-coherent instead of a bunch of haphazard idea fragments:

A violent shiver rattles through her. When they slogged through the midmire—when she watched that axe come within inches of cleaving off Chrom’s arm—all the while, Robin found herself battling memories too. That afternoon in Emmeryn’s solar, with lavender tea burning her tongue and autumn sunshine blanketing her skin, feels a whole lifetime away. Instead, her chest rends itself open again each time she remembers Emmeryn’s warmth and kindness and grace: all gone now, splattered to blood and bone chips in Castle Plegia’s courtyard. All because of her own shortsightedness...her own stupidity. Robin swipes at her eyes, furious to find them welling up.

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're a Star Masterlist // Pornstar Satoru headcanons

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six

Pairings- Pornstar Satoru x shy f!reader

Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream.

Warnings- mentions of sex and sexwork, masturbation, mentions of drug use, weed smoking, Gojo has an OF hehe, lots of longing, pining, Satoru can't get hard if it's not you, whipped ass Satoru, explicit sexual content, angst - WC 67k 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 Playlist -Ao3 link-Headcanons below!

Pornstar Satoru is one of the most famous pornstars there are, hence him constantly wearing jet black shades and hoodies at times, he never knew just who he'd run into that would recognize him. Whether it's his flicks or his OF - he's the top .01 % - he gets a lot of notice, especially in bustling LA. But, he loves what he does, he especially loves watching his abs flex in the camera as he hits one of his lovely costars from the back.

Pornstar Satoru loves making the costars and girls he collabs with actually cum, where they're shaking and squirting all over his latex covered cock. Not that fake shit like he watches them do with other men- no Satoru makes sure to slam that curved tip against their cervix, to roll his thumb right on their clit with the perfect amount of pressure. Perhaps that's the secret to how famous he really is, along with his good looks.

Pornstar Satoru makes so much money from each shoot and is in high demand, so he can have whoever he wants as a co star. They line up to have a chance at him, watching his videos and aching for a chance to feel his cock hitting them deeper than damn near anyone could hit, to say they got to shoot with the Satoru Gojo. This just makes Satoru fuck them harder, smiling right at that camera, as women dream it's really them that have captured his pretty blue eyed gaze.

Pornstar Satoru thinks it's a pretty damn good life, being rich for fucking beautiful women on camera, as he's inhaling a blunt after a threesome shoot with his best friend - and often costar- Pornstar Suguru, as they talk about who got the girl to squirt more, right in the middle of a bouguie party in East LA. Suguru let's out a throaty laugh, while Satoru narrows his blue eyes. 'I had her cumming so hard she was shaking' he says, taking a hit and handing it back to Suguru. 'Nah, that was all for me, did you see...'

Pornstar Satoru stops listening when he sees you enter the room, completely out of place at the coke filled, booze filled party, wearing a pair of black glasses that cover half of your pretty face, and a little nervous look as you stand there, in a cute white pleated skirt and a big oversized sweater. Satoru smacks Suguru on the shoulder then and he coughs up smoke. 'Shit what is it?' Satoru looks back at you, when you're handed a drink, some guy flirting as you look down shyly. 'Who's she?' Suguru blinks a bit curiously. 'I don't know, she's pretty though'

Pornstar Satoru scowls at Suguru who snorts in laughter then. 'Satoru we don't have 'girlfriends' and she... looks like a good girl' your eyes catch his then, across the room, like something shifts as you smile sweetly, before peering at your phone, biting your lip in concentration. 'I'm talking to her' Suguru chuckles as he watches his friend, and Satoru feels his heart race when he comes too close to you, something he can't say he's felt, even pleasing countless beauties, nothing has quite altered him as your sweet turn of lips, as you look down at your converse, so out of place you're fucking adorable. 'Hey sweetheart... Satoru Gojo' he says, introducing himself with ease, expecting you to maybe notice him, get starstruck, fuck women get wet just near him, but you simply grin, and your name whispers through his mind when it spills from your lips.

Pornstar Satoru has you sitting with him later, you fall into easy conversation, you're a little gamer nerd, you love science and the environment, he just bets you were head of your ecology club in college, which you quickly confirm, all while you're in awe of just how beautiful this man is. He's sweet, he's sexy... you feel he shouldn't even be talking to you. You're pretty but... he's experienced so clearly, by every way he moves, he's worldly, so confident, and you've never really left this little part of LA, but the two of you can't stop talking, to the point you forget what brought you here.

Pornstar Satoru laughs with you, as you're sitting side by side, and he lights up a blunt, leaning back on the burgundy couch on the outskirts of the party, inhaling it deep into his lungs. 'Want a hit, sweets?' he murmurs, you take it nervously, putting it to your lips and inhaling a bit, before coughing, covering your mouth. Satoru chuckles, 'you're cute' earning your cheeks heating up. 'Can you tell I don't do this?' you're nervously tapping your leg now. 'Yeah, what does bring you here, doesn't seem your...' 'my scene?' he nods then. 'yeah, that.'

Pornstar Satoru watches avidly as you sip on your drink, wincing at the strong liquor. 'Well, my friend invited me over, but she's running late' Satoru grins now. 'Party time is different, everyone comes late, that's on time. About fifteen minutes late' 'oh no I came early!' you smack your own forehead, giggling along with him. 'Are you like... a model, or an actor?' you ask, eyeing him and his baby blues, the cheekbones so perfect, those lips that wrap the blunt again. 'You could say I'm a bit of both,' he muses, then spits out his drink when you ask 'what are you in!?'

Pornstar Satoru coughs just a bit, he's never been ashamed of what he does, but he's nervous for some reason to tell you. Why, he doesn't know. 'I'm... into some indie flicks' you brighten up then. 'Oh, let me know, I love lowkey films! I bet you're great' Satoru sighs, gulping down the rest of his drink and eyeing your cup. 'Want more?' you frown now, maybe you're asking too much, or offending this actor that you don't recognize him!? You nod, the amount of people around you making you press against this friendly, pretty white haired stranger just a little more.

Pornstar Satoru has another drink, eyeing the sea of bodies undulating in the extravagant mansion, and soon the two of you are dancing together you're cute and so awkward, Satoru's enjoying this far, far too much. He has plenty of costars and fans come up to the two of you, but he's too interested in showing you how to move your hips to pay them any mind, when finally your friend comes. Satoru instantly recognizes her, she's a pretty famous co star he's collabed with on her Onlyfans not long ago. When she sees you giggling and enjoying yourself so much, she damn near drags you away, making Satoru curse.

Pornstar Satoru eyes you when your friend whispers in your ear- 'you really don't recognize him!?' you blink curiously, looking at him more closely. 'Should I?' she sighs then, eyeing Satoru up and down. 'He was in my OF videos, we collabed' you heat up furiously then. 'I never watched your videos! I just subbed to be supportive!' she giggles. 'You're so cute, I thought you at least watched some?' you shake your head nervously. 'I don't really watch, is he... like an OnlyFans guy?' Satoru is back over with Suguru now, while you sip your drink, feeling your body warm up. 'He's the top pornstar there is, the collab was like a dream. He's really sweet but you should know is all, you're kinda...' you glare. 'kinda what?' she giggles again. 'you're just... sweet, emotional, is all'

Pornstar Satoru expects you to be done with him once you find out, after all you just seem innocent, uncorrupted for this city, not the kind of girl to be at this party where lines are being snorted off bodies, and people are naked and jumping in the pools, a heady, wild atmosphere. But you smile at him, as you murmur - 'he's sweet?' to your friend. She nods then. 'He is, but just know... he doesn't date so, it'd only be physical' you frown at that now, that's not something you think you can do, you're about as demisexual as it gets, hence your very limited experience. 'He doesn't date at all?' Your friend gently touches your shoulder. 'No, love, I'd hate to see you hurt'

Pornstar Satoru catches you before you leave later that night, when you are just feeling too out of place, his big hand wrapped around your delicate wrist, earning you looking up at him. He can't stop thinking how pretty your eyes would look rolled back, how good your lips would feel wrapped around his cock, as you relax a bit, turning and looking up. 'Headed out already?' he asks softly, you flush as you remember just what he does for a living, your friend had just described his cock in far too vivid detail. 'It's not really my thing, but I'm glad we met, Gojo' you smile so cute then, leaning up and pecking him on the cheek, his arm wraps your waist as he leans down, inhaling that sweet vanilla scent cloying to your skin.

Pornstar Satoru pulls you in closer, blue eyes staring under snowy lashes. 'Can I... get your number?' Satoru has never asked for a number a day in his life, but he delights in watching you shift nervously, nodding as you tuck your hair behind your ear. 'Yeah, I'd like that' he exchanges numbers, tilting your chin up then, watching the way your eyes dilate, the color spread on your pretty cheeks. 'She told you?' you clear your throat, nodding a bit, still being captured by his fingers. 'I don't judge at all, Gojo, I'd still like to be... friends...' your whisper is met with the most subtle kiss on your lips, shooting desire hot and heavy until Satoru releases you, plump lips smirking- 'sure, sweets, we can be friends'

Pornstar Satoru can't get you off his mind, the feel of your skin on his, the sweet sigh against his lips. He is on a big shoot and - the Satoru Gojo that never gets soft - is having trouble keeping it up, to the amusement of his costar Pornstar Sukuna. Satoru scowls at his comments, just picturing your sweet lips against his for that brief moment. A man who just fucks and fucks, and doesn't feel, is hung up just on some fucking kiss. He has to take a break after pleasing his costar with his fingers, she's cumming so much she doesn't notice, but the directors wonder why he's off. He's in his own dressing room, eyeing the phone, hands shaking as he decides to type a message - 'could you give me a picture, sweets, to save as your caller id?'

Pornstar Satoru finds his cock is right back on hard when you send one quickly, just a cute selfie with a little peace sign, but he sees your glossy fucking lips, the teeth indentations he aches to rub the tip of his cock on, along with just a hint of your breasts. Your nipples press against the thin material of your little tee shirt- Pokemon, he notices, smiling- his cock throbbing. 'Can I get one too?' you're biting that lower lip nervously as you ask, getting a picture of him shirtless then, doing nothing to stifle the curiosity in your mind, your heart racing as you seee his body. 'You at a shoot?' you ask in the messages, he hesitates before answering - 'yes' - and somehow you feel jealous of whoever his costar is. You message a - kill it, Gojo! - despite the feeling in your tummy, little do you know you're drowning his fucking mind when he performs later, feeling the star squirting all over his latex covered cock.

Pornstar Satoru can't stop texting you that week, he can't even get hard if he doesn't look at that picture, and you can't stop your curiosity, when you friend mentions he's doing a live stream. Since Satoru can hardly perform, he's decided to masturbate on live cam, in minutes making more than he'd make in a shoot, all while having your picture propped up. People are chatting, watching, dollars by the hundreds being tipped every moment, fuck he's making way more than he usually would, and he can think of you. He laughs softly, abs flexing as he hits the right angle, reading the comments, making you dripping wet, this isn't what you do!?

Pornstar Satoru is stroking his wet, slick cock that's glistening, up and down with his huge hand, and you feel your pussy clench, breath coming faster, unsure whether to look away or keep staring, meanwhile he's picturing you in all sorts of positions, on your knees, a fucking mating press. He's shutting his eyes for a moment, grinning as the viewers go crazy. 'I know, it's pretty, huh?' he spits right on that long, veiny cock of his, pinching his pink tip and whining, white lashes fluttering open right when he sees a familiar name enter the chat.

Your name.

Pornstar Sukuna hcs here // Pornstar Suguru hcs here // Onlyfans Nanami hcs here

Kofi link (if you feel generous & wanna buy me a ☕️

[chuluoyi]

✎ baby to the rescue

- gojo satoru x reader

in which gojo recruits your baby son to “save” you from a credit card salesman

genre: immense fluff !! baby gojo and dad!gojo shenanigans~

note: based on this and this reel. with this i hereby declare that anything past chapter 235 is null and void HAHA anyway, i truly want to post remarried empress au by this week but since 261 leaks hurt me so much, i need more fluff so have to postpone it to next week :') tagging @karikari19hikariiii <3

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Your husband Gojo Satoru... is handsome as hell, which means your baby son is also undeniably good-looking.

"Why do you pout at me?" Satoru poked his squirming baby's cheek while pursing his lips too. "C'mon, smile! That auntie is smiling at you!"

Everyone who passed by them in Shinjuku shopping district turned heads to admire him and his pumpkin just a little longer, and Satoru visibly enjoyed the attention. He smiled back at them, occasionally winking even.

If only they knew how pretty his wife was too...

Wait, no! On second thought, if they know how hot you are, there will be problems!

You had left him to go to the nearest pharmacy to restock some things, while Satoru decided to entertain his baby in the toy section. He basked in the starry-eyed looks people were giving him... until he heard some strange sounds and turned to his baby boy—

—who was chewing the beak of a duck toy with all his might. Satoru was mortified.

"—! Let that go! Your mama will beat me if she sees you eating this!"

Your baby paid him no mind though, desperately pushing the duck into his mouth. Satoru sat him on one of the empty racks and began the tug of war—

"Let go!" he reprimanded. "You're so naughty, gods—!"

Some people were now openly giggling at both of them. His son tried to resist by rolling, and Satoru clicked his tongue. He then yanked the toy away until his baby finally let it go, sniffling sadly that his papa wouldn't let him have the duck.

"Oh, you..." he picked him up again and consoled the pumpkin. "You can't do that, you hear? First, it's not clean. Second, mama will grow two heads to chew you and me both, understand?"

No, your son totally didn't understand a thing. Satoru sighed, seeing his little blue eyes welling up with tears. He ruffled his head and pulled him close. "There, there... I'll get you ice cream, okay? Now let's go."

Satoru was determined to turn his son back into a smiling, happy baby. But just as he was about to head towards the ice cream parlor, he encountered the most unbelievable sight—

"Miss! I guarantee you'll love this credit card features!"

You. That was clearly you, and a salesman (or a bozo, in Satoru's eyes) was trying to bother you.

You raised an eyebrow. "Uh, no— thank you—"

Yet the bozo was still persistent, like the pesky fly he was. "You can use it to pay for your monthly beauty treatments! Someone as pretty as you..." He eyed you from head to toe, blinking suggestively. "Oh my! Your skin is flawless! You have to maintain it this way! I can also give you recommendations for—"

You were wearing a flare dress that made you look so young and petite, and obviously, Satoru too was lusting after you. And true, your skin was smooth like a soft serve of mochi, but still!

You are meant for him and his eyes only! Oho, this bozo would get heavenly punishment.

He had to get to you somehow, but this was public space and if he cooked up some sort of shenanigan, you would put him in sex ban. I can't have that! so Satoru wracked his brain to think of another way...

Once again, his gaze fell on his now calm baby, who was also looking at his mama over there with utter curiosity. And an idea immediately popped up in his mind.

"Hey, kiddo, look at that, a bad man is trying to take your mama," Satoru nudged him as if trying to egg him on. "We can't let that happen. Will you help me to save her, hmm?"

"Mama..." your baby looked back at him so innocently before smiling. "Mamaaa!"

"Good boy." Gods, his baby was so adorable, he almost felt bad for doing this but...

Swallowing his guilt, thinking he would make it up later, he pinched his son's butt a little too firmly—

"WAAAA!" and suddenly, the little boy burst into tears, and even Satoru was surprised by the sheer volume of his wail.

The sudden inconsolable sound of your baby sent you scrambling in panic, your eyes wildly searching for him, completely disregarding the credit card man. "My baby!"

"Eh?" the credit card man was visibly surprised. "Oh... so, you're married...?"

You immediately made your way towards Satoru and snatched your baby from him, hugging him tightly. "Oh, there, there... What happened to you?" you shot your husband a distaste look as your son kept wailing. "Satoru, why is he crying?"

He nonchalantly shrugged. "Maybe missing his mama? Dunno~"

By now, you had completely forgotten the credit card bozo, but he still looked at the three of you in mild surprise. Satoru took this chance to approach him and whisper in his ear:

"You see, my wife doesn't need your credit card," he whistled. "My cards or lumpsum money will do more than enough."

After seeing how pale the bozo looked, Satoru chuckled darkly... before leading you and your son away from the crowd, with one arm possessively around your waist.

Epilogue

"I'm sorry— I'm sorry, okay!?"

Satoru looked down at his son in utter hopelessness, as the little boy refused to be held by him, looking at him with teary, resentful eyes, and backing away from him in his playpen.

Can babies hold a grudge? Satoru didn't know, but his son definitely was not happy with him, and he couldn't think of any other explanation other than his sin against him back this afternoon.

"I've bought you mochi ice cream!" he opened his palm to reveal the treat. "Don't you want some? Papa will give you some, yeah?"

Baby looked skeptical now, and at that moment, he resembled you so much—accusing eyes, pursed lips, exactly like the expression you would pull when you were unsure of what Satoru might do next. He almost chuckled at the resemblance, feeling giddy.

"C'mon, forgive me, yeah?" he patted his son's little beanie and offered his hand for him to take, eyes crinkling in fondness. "Now, here comes your treat, come closer?"

Your baby crawled closer, seemingly accepting him, and Satoru was all smiles, until—

Whack!

It happened in a flash. He could have avoided it, but he was too taken aback. The pain exploded in his jaw, so intense that he grunted loudly.

"What the—?! You... you—! You kicked me— in the face!"

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

back pain. l Joel Miller

Summary: Joel had back problems, someone had to help him

Warnings: smut (+18), unprotected sex (don't do that), breeding kink, oral sex (f!receiving), Joel has back problems, Ann shows up, Hazel is mentioned, a bit of jealousy

A/N: like many of us i also saw ep 2 tlou2. i had this chapter already written, i thought it might cheer you up. joel deserves everything and i'm trying my best.

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

It had been going on for a while. It started with discomfort after returning from patrols, but Joel put it down to the time spent in the saddle. Then the pain came after a nap on the couch or a long day at the stables.

You couldn’t ignore it when Joel groaned loudly one morning as he got out of bed. You tried to help him. You massaged the aching muscles on his back and shoulders, applied warm compresses to ease the tension. It all helped, but only for a moment.

“Ann told me there was a woman next door who did professional massages,” you said one night. You were straddling Joel, naked from the waist up, lying on his stomach, accepting the touch of your hands. “She’s helped a lot of people in Jackson.”

"I don't need help." he groaned when you pressed a particularly painful spot. "You're doing great."

"I have no idea what I'm doing." You mumbled. "What if I only hurt you more?"

"Don't care. I'm not going there." He replied, and you rolled your eyes.

"You're so..."

"Old?"

“Stubborn!” He patted him on the shoulder. “Your back has been bothering you for a long time. You should do something about it. You want a baby, so how are you going to get up for it at night?”

You shouldn't have used that argument, but it was the only thing that came to mind. You had been trying to conceive for months, but you weren't panicking. Whatever was coming, you were just willing to accept it. Joel's aching back was worrying you, so you tried to do everything you could to help him. Even Tommy and Ellie had pitched in to convince him to rest, but Joel was... Yes, stubborn.

You hadn't brought it up since that night. Joel had been busy renovating more buildings in Jackson, and you had your hands full as well. It wasn't until you met Ann, who was with Elijah at the store, that you found out something was wrong.

“I’ve been seeing Joel lately,” she said, stroking the boy’s head as he slept snuggled up to her chest, a scarf wrapped securely around him. “I asked him what he was doing, but he was acting strange.”

"Strange? What does that mean?" you wondered.

"I don't know." Ann shrugged. "Do you think Hazel asked him for help again? She lives a few houses down from us."

You saw Hazel occasionally, sometimes at the Tipsy Bison or on the street in Jackson, but you didn’t talk. You knew she always felt more comfortable around Joel, but he hadn’t mentioned her in a while. A hint of jealousy rose in your heart, though you knew that if Joel hadn’t told you about Hazel, it was just so you wouldn’t feel bad. “I don’t know. He’s been pretty busy lately.” You replied. “Maybe he has a job in your neighborhood.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She smiled softly and picked up the basket. “Are you coming over later? Shane’s going on patrol with two new guys, I don’t want to be alone. You know how it is.”

"Sure. I'll come."

You couldn't pretend that what Ann had told you didn't interest you, and where Joel was headed was starting to worry you a little. Every morning he'd say he was going to the construction site or on patrol, but you didn't really know if he was actually there. You didn't feel the need to check on him, because why would you?

Hazel entered your thoughts again. Maybe she'd asked him for help, and Joel just didn't want to worry you? No, you weren't angry. Just worried.

You were halfway through washing the dishes when you heard the door slam and the familiar heavy footsteps.

"Baby?" Joel's voice echoed through the house.

“Here.” You replied, dipping your hands into the suds and washing another plate. “Are you hungry? I have some more stew, Ellie and Dina didn’t eat all of it. We’ll have to start hiding food from them.”

You heard footsteps but no voice. When suddenly a solid body pressed against your back, almost pushing you into the sink.

“Jesus! Joel!” you squealed in surprise, pulling your hands out of the water and grabbing his arms that were wrapped tightly around you. “What happened?”

His low, deep voice resonated against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "I want you. Now."

He wasn't lying. The hard bulge pressed against your ass, you swallowed hard.

"Now?" you repeated, bewildered.

There was no response. A low groan tore from Joel’s chest as he released you, crouching down and throwing you over his shoulder in an instant. You were so surprised that you fisted your hands in his shirt dramatically.

"Joel! Your back!" you chuckled as he headed towards the stairs. "Joel! That's not safe!"

“Then stop squirming, for God’s sake!” he muttered as he climbed the stairs. Luckily, you listened, because the idea of ​​falling on your face wasn’t interesting. He kicked open the bedroom door, and a moment later it slammed shut behind you, and you landed with a thud on the bed.

“Joel!” you were too confused. It all happened so fast, and Joel looked like he was going crazy. His fingers deftly unbuttoned your pants and in a quick movement slid them down your back along with your underwear. “What the fuck?!”

"I already told you, I want you. Now." he replied, as if it was obvious. He came for what was his, for you.

You didn’t say anything else as he spread your thighs, his head disappearing between them. You took a breath, gripping the sheets in your hands as you felt him start to eat you out like this was his last meal, like he’d been starving for years. Your brain couldn’t process anything but the violent pleasure that was taking over your body. But it didn’t last.

Joel rose, his beard glistening with your juices, looking at you with nearly black eyes. The belt made a familiar sound and he pulled down his pants, freeing his hard cock. Maybe he had lost his mind, maybe something had possessed him, but you couldn’t lie—you wanted him more than ever.

Without taking his eyes off you, he took off his shirt, revealing his broad chest and strong arms. Despite his age, he still had it. And you still only wanted him.

When his hands grabbed your hips and turned you on the bed almost like a rag doll, you just squealed softly. He lifted your hips, his hand sliding down your back, pressing you to the bed. You knew what was coming, but when with a quiet, “So fucking sexy…” he slid inside you in one hard movement, you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to stop yourself from moaning. His cock was deep, all the way to the base. At that moment, Joel could do anything to you, because your brain and body had stopped working properly.

Every thrust, every movement, every sigh drove you crazy. The orgasm built in your body at a dizzying speed. You had made love many times before, in different ways and at different speeds, but this was different. Almost primal, animalistic, passionate. But at the same time, with Joel, you knew you were safe, even as his fingers dug into your hips as he pounded into you with all his might.

Suddenly he leaned down, his arm sliding under your body and lifting you up so he was pressing you against his chest. Joel’s hand slid under your shirt and bra, squeezing your breast tightly.

“Take it all... I can feel you close...” His voice was heavy as he whispered in your ear, “You’re squeezing me so tight, baby. Fuck, take it.”

You reached back, gripping his hair as he nearly bit your neck. A hard shudder wracked your body as you came, your throat aching. Joel was right behind you. His movements became frantic as he pounded into you. “I’m gonna fill you up… Until it fucking takes hold.”

He squeezed you so hard he could break you, and then he came deep, with a deep groan. You stayed like that, until the last twitch, breathing deeply, slowly regaining your senses. Finally, you managed to find your voice, despite your sore throat.

"What was that?"

He turned his head, kissing your neck, inhaling your scent. “That’s how babies are made, darling.”

You giggled, and after a moment, Joel did the same. His arms slowly released you, and you fell back onto the bed, feeling your limbs go limp. Joel collapsed next to you, breathing deeply and feeling completely at peace and comfort. Silence filled the room, and you steadied your breathing, trying to get back to reality.

“I’ve been going to that woman you were talking about for a week now.” You turned your head and looked at Joel’s profile. His eyes were closed, a few curls stuck to his sweaty forehead. “The massage lady.”

"That's good. Did she help with your back?"

He turned around and looked at you with a sly smile. "Didn't you notice?"

“Jesus!” you covered your face with your hand. “And I thought you…”

"What?" Joel rolled over and rested his head on his hand. "What did you think I was doing?"

With a heavy heart, you told him what Ann had told you, that she had done it in good faith, about your concerns about Hazel. Joel listened patiently, never once suggesting that what you were saying was stupid or irrational. Finally, he smiled and leaned down, lightly kissing the corner of your mouth.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he said and seeing your surprised look he added "The fact that you're a little jealous of me is really flattering. But you also know that I'm completely devoted to you. I'm yours, baby, no one will ever change that."

She stroked his cheek, smiling. “And you really think that kind of sex can produce children?”

"We could always do it again." He shrugged, "Just to be sure."

You pulled him closer and kissed him tenderly. He was yours, body and soul. And you were his.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again @callmebyyournick-name @hiroikegawa @mandaloriankait

[ariestrxsh]

mean!chris x shy!reader

✰ content warning: smut, getting caught, pornography, mutual masturbation, vouyerism/exhibitionism, dirty talk, sneaking around, enemies to lovers

✰ summary: while staying the night with nick and matt, you accidentally stumble upon chris jerking off to porn, and in the heat of the moment, despite the fact that neither of you get along, he invites you to join him

idk who first wrote mean!chris or shy!reader, so I can't give proper credits, but I feel like it's definitely been written before, so credits to everyone who did it before me!

dividers by @/anitalenia

Lights Turned On

chapters: | 1 | 2 |

"What the hell do you think you're doing in here?" Chris demanded, silencing his mic as he sat shirtless in front of his laptop, gaming with his friends. He didn't even bother looking up at you, continuing to tap away on his controller. However, he could see your silhouette slip into his room out of the corner of his vision.

His room was dark, the only light coming from the glow of his screen, giving his blue eyes an almost ethereal look. He smelled faintly of aftershave and body wash, and the damp look of his hair indicated to you that he had just taken a shower.

Despite the close bond you'd had with his two brothers, Chris had never warmed up to you in the same way Matt and Nick had. He was always acting cold towards you, making snide comments, and doing just about anything he could to get under your skin.

It might not have bothered you so much if you hadn't been secretly crushing on him since you met him. Despite how painfully obvious it was, it was something that none of the brothers had picked up on, including Chris.

In some ways, you were disgusted with yourself for finding Chris attractive. He was messy, loud, inconsiderate, and rather mean to you most of the time. You just couldn't help but always want to be around him and look at him. You just wanted him to notice you and pay attention to you, even if he was poking fun at you.

"Spit it out. You lost or somethin'?" He asked, slipping a headphone off his ear and peering up at you over his computer with a mixture of annoyance and frustration that you hadn't answered his question. "I'm looking for some extra pillows and blankets. We're having a movie night downstairs. Matt and Nick said you might have some."

Chris rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "Yeah, check that closet. Should be some in there." You made your way over to his closet door, resting your hand on the cold metal of the knob and tugging it open. Just like Chris had said, he had both extra blankets and pillows neatly placed on the top shelf.

As you stood on your tippy toes, trying to reach them, just barely grazing the wool fabric with the tips of your fingers, you heard a chuckle from behind you. Then Chris said something into his mic about stepping away from the game for a second, and he took off his headphones, placing them on the edge of his desk before he approached you, seeming even more irritated now.

Your heart raced as you felt the warmth of his body as he came up behind you, his chest nearly touching your back as he retrieved the bedding from the top shelf of his closet with ease. You spun around, and Chris was shoving the blankets into your arms with an unamused look on his face that you could barely make out in the dark.

"You're fuckin' helpless, you know that?" He rasped before making his way back over to his gaming chair. You could feel blood rush to your cheeks as you stood in place, your heartbeat hammering away in your chest and your stomach fluttering from how close he had just been to you.

Your gaze danced over his flared nostrils, his pouty lips, and his concentrated expression that were all lit up by the blue light of his computer. You didn't mean to gawk, but God, he looked so pretty when he was annoyed. "You need somethin' else?" He asked, his eyes locked onto you from above the screen of his laptop again.

You dumbly shook your head no, not moving from where you stood, clutching the blankets in your arms. "Then scram. I'm busy," he huffed, his eyes dropping back down to his game. Embarrassed by how flustered he had gotten you and hoping that he hadn't noticed, you fled without saying another word.

Downstairs, you and the other brothers were bundled up under the blankets with a bag of popcorn sitting between the three of you as the movie started. You, Nick, and Matt stayed up late, whispering and laughing amongst yourselves until your voices started to drop off and were replaced by the sounds of rhythmic breathing and quiet snoring.

By the time the movie had ended and the credits were rolling, both Matt and Nick were sound asleep on either side of you, and you were fluttering in and out of consciousness. You contemplated joining them in their slumber, giving yourself over to sleep and cocooning yourself up in the mess of blankets that Chris had given you earlier in the night.

However, the light from the TV made that nearly impossible, and as you reached up to rub your tired eyes, you felt the old, dry mascara that was still caked to your lashes. You let out a sigh, knowing you couldn't sleep like this, at least not comfortably.

You quietly stood to your feet, carefully stepping over one of the boys to go shut off the source of the bright light. It took your eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness, and before nestling back into the bedding strewn across the floor, you decided to head up to Nick's room to grab your toothbrush and facewash.

You tiptoed up the stairs, hoping not to wake anyone as you slowly guided yourself through the darkness with the rail of the banister. You reached the top of the steps, and as you started to head towards Nick's bedroom, you heard a sound that made your stomach flip. It was coming from Chris' room.

You silently approached his cracked door, and the closer you got, the more clearly the lewd noises came through. You heard heavy breathing and soft moaning, whimpering almost. You peered in, taking in the sight of Chris leaning back against his headboard, still shirtless, one hand holding his phone sideways and the other moving rapidly beneath his blanket.

Your breath caught in your throat as it dawned on you what he was doing. The brightness of his phone lit up his face, giving you a view of every detail - his hooded blue eyes, his softened facial features, and his pink lips curling into a blissful smile. He looked more attractive now than ever.

You could hear the sound of him furiously pumping his length and the sound of his moans escaping him complimented by the noises that played from his phone. "Fuck," he whispered, his breath and the stroke of his hand both speeding up rapidly.

You knew it was wrong, but you couldn't take your eyes off of him, and you could tell he was nearing the edge. You lingered in his doorway, biting down on your lip as you felt a familiar warmth spreading in your lower stomach. A wetness pooled between your legs, and you squeezed your thighs together to relieve some of the built-up tension.

You were so enthralled by the scenery, sticking your head so far in through the door that you didn't notice how close you were to touching it until your hand brushing against it made it creak open wider. The sound startled him, snapping him back to reality and pulling him out of his sexual fantasies.

Chris immediately ceased the motion of his hand and shut off his phone screen. You gasped, too stunned to move. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw your silhouette in the doorway. "Jesus! You scared the fuck out of me," Chris chuckled, realizing he'd definitely been caught.

"I-I'm sorry. I was just going to Nick's room," you managed to squeak out, completely embarrassed you'd been caught peeping on him. "You forget which room was his or somethin'?" He teased you, his voice lower and softer this time.

He continued to slowly stroke himself under his blanket, thinking it was too dark for you to see, but you knew what he was doing. "What? You want a private show or somethin'?" Chris snickered, his voice laced with sarcasm, but you didn't pick up on the joke.

You swallowed hard, your words caught in your throat. You bit down on your lip and curled your fingers tightly around the edge of the door as you silently waited in the entry way for what felt like an eternity.

"Jesus, kid. Either come in and close the door or fuck off," he responded in a hushed voice, sounding a bit annoyed that you'd interrupted him, but you figured if he were that annoyed with you, he would've only given you one option - fuck off.

You took a step forward, officially crossing the barrier between the hallway and his bedroom. You pushed the door closed, sounding the faint click of the latch as it locked into place.

His eyebrows flew up in shock, realizing you really did want a private show. He'd given you the first option half-heartedly, certainly not expecting you to take him up on it, but the realization that you wanted to stay made his cock pulse in his grasp.

His breath was soft and quiet, but you could hear it becoming more shallow as he continued to pump his length. "C'mere. I won't bite. Unless you want me to," he hissed, his voice low and full of lust as he patted the bed beside him, inviting you to come closer.

You slowly approached him, half-expecting him to start teasing you for wanting to watch or pull some kind of mean prank on you. "Light on?" He asked, making your stomach flip even more. "Sure," you quietly mumbled. Chris switched on the lamp on his bedside table, the soft yellow glow lighting up the one corner of his room that you two were in.

His eyes met yours before your gaze traveled back down to his hand, moving slowly beneath the blanket. Chris' eyes followed you as you sat down next to him, and the way he looked at you starting to shift.

He always just saw you as his brothers' annoying friend who was around all the time, always needing something. However, he found himself getting excited by the idea of you being interested in what he was doing beneath the covers. He never expected this scenario to play out, especially not with you.

The air between the two of you was thick with tension, and Chris waited in anticipation for you to make the next move. "What were you watchin'?" You asked, curiously glancing at his phone that was resting on his chest facedown.

An expression of both interest and surprise crossed his face at your question. He chuckled, reaching for his phone and picking it up with his free hand. "You mean what was I watchin' before you barged in here and interrupted me?" He laughed. "Porn. Obviously," he sneered, his snarky attitude never faltering.

"No shit. What kind?" You wondered aloud, growing more confident and more curious as Chris responded with vague answers. "I mean, it must have been really hot with the way you were going at it." His lips curled into a smug smile, realizing why you were asking.

"Why? Wanna watch with me?" He wondered, searching your face for a reaction. Your eyes subtly widened, and you slowly nodded. You couldn't believe Chris was going to share with you the kinds of things he liked to get off to. The vulnerability of the moment had you more turned on than you'd ever been in your life.

He unlocked his phone, turning the screen so that both of you could see it. "Just this slutty little redhead taking two cocks at once," Chris lustfully responded, continuing to stroke himself under the blanket.

Of course, even in the way he described the video, he couldn't help but talk about the woman in a degrading manner. Typical.

You hated that you found that kind of hot.

When you felt yourself clenching around nothing at the way he described the scene, you wondered where the hell your self-respect had gone, and then you started to wonder if you'd had any at all to begin with, considering you were getting wet over a jerk like Chris.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to the video that Chris played, picking back up where he had left off. It was a woman on all fours, bent over the arm of a couch while one guy was pounding into her from behind, smacking her ass, and the other guy was fucking her mouth, gently running his fingers through her hair and pushing her head down to take more of him.

The volume was low, but you could hear the sound of skin slapping against skin and the sound of the woman moaning around the second man's cock. She looked like she was really enjoying herself, being the center of their attention.

You found your hand wandering south and slipping into the waistband of your shorts. As if you had no control over it, you began to soothe the aching feeling between your legs, your middle finger gently tracing your folds and teasing your slit, your gaze locked onto the scene that played out in front of you.

"If you're not into this, you don't have to watch it, but I'm not changing it," Chris replied, his voice trailing off at the end as his eyes left the screen for a moment and wandered over towards you. His breath hitched as he noticed the placement of your right hand, telling him all he needed to know about what you thought of the video.

You were gently tracing circles over your clit with your fingertips as you bit down on your lip to keep your moans from escaping. When you became aware that his eyes were on you, you grew self-conscious and brought your movements to an abrupt stop.

"Oh, so you do like this? You wish that were you, huh?" He teased, nudging you in the arm. Your cheeks grew warm at his accusation. "C'mon. Don't be shy. Keep going," he quietly encouraged you. He kept his gaze on you, enthralled by the way you looked while you pleasured yourself.

At first, you were just watching the video, but you couldn't help that your focus started to shift from Chris' phone screen to his hand that was rapidly moving under the blankets. You couldn't keep yourself from picturing what it looked like. A smirk played in the corner of his lip as he realized where your attention was.

"You wanna see it, don't you?" Chris purred, reading the look of desire that was written all over your face and the way your eyes lit up when he offered. You swallowed the lump in your throat and silently nodded. Chris chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. He pulled back the blanket, revealing himself to you.

He let it fall flat against his stomach, gently running his fingertips along the backside as he glanced over at you, searching for your reaction. You were mesmerized. It was a little bigger than average, a few veins decorating his length.

He gripped his shaft and pointed his tip towards the sky, giving you a different perspective. The head was a perfect mushroom shape and bright pink from how swollen it was. A bit of precum glistened, pearling at his slit as he continued manhandling himself.

"I have kind of a strange request," Chris told you, wetting his lips as he stared at your own. "Sure. What is it?" You innocently asked, but your mind was racing with what the next words that were going to leave his mouth would be. He'd been going back and forth for the past several minutes, debating on whether he should ask or not, and he'd finally decided that he couldn't help himself.

"The only downside to just using my hand is, it gets a little dry after a while," he started to say, his voice low and full of lust, hoping you understood where he was going with this. "Do you think you could like.. spit on it?" He nibbled on his lower lip as he waited in anticipation for you to answer. Your eyes widened, his question sparking your interest.

Whether Chris knew it or not, given the circumstances you were in right now, there wasn't a single thing he could ask you for that you wouldn't give to him in this moment. You certainly weren't going to say no to that. "Of course I can," you responded. His facial features softened, surprised by your enthusiasm.

You leaned forward so that you were hovering just a couple of inches above his cock. You gathered some saliva in your mouth, pursed your lips, and let your spit slowly drip out onto his throbbing cock head. He let out a satisfied sigh as your saliva mixed with his clear fluid and slowly spilled down his tip and onto his length.

"Fuck. That's it," he huskily moaned, tossing his head back for a moment, his eyes fluttering closed as he spread it around. You watched the scene before you unfold, Chris massaging the wetness you provided him with into his cockhead.

You slipped your hand back into your waistband, touching yourself alongside him. He wrapped his fingers around his shaft and started gently squeezing it, making a twisting motion with his wrist every time he dragged his hand back up his length.

The video was still playing in the background, and the two of you would periodically glance over at it, enjoying the way it heightened the experience. However, you each found your eyes wandering back over towards the other person.

Chris' gaze flicked back and forth between your hand in your shorts and your face, and you did the same, glancing back and forth between Chris' cock and his pleasured expressions, every once in a while, the two of you meeting each other's stare.

"You wanna know a secret?" Chris asked in between his staggered breaths. "Mhmm," you replied in a soft moan, nodding your head. He leaned in a little closer to you, lowering his voice to a volume just above a whisper.

"I love jerking off with an audience. The way you're looking at my cock right now makes it so much hotter than if I were just doing it alone," he admitted, emphasizing every stroke for your benefit. Your eyes widened at his confession.

"You know what else I love?" He asked, a soft moan unfurling from his lips before he licked them. "What?" You asked, excited to hear what incredibly hot thing he was gonna say next. "I really like talking dirty to someone while I jerk off for them," he disclosed, smirking over at you.

"Let's hear it then," you replied with your eyes locked onto his. Chris was taken aback by your boldness, a stark contrast from the seemingly innocent, shy, and reserved demeanor you approached him with in your everyday life.

"You're a very naughty girl for spying on me, you know that?" Chris purred under his breath. "See how hard I am for you? See how hard I get from you watching me? Fuck, I'm not gonna last much longer if you keep looking at it like that.."

His words sent a pulsing to your clit, and you started to rub it faster. He softly moaned, mirroring you and speeding up his strokes. "You like watching me jerk off for you, don't you?" He taunted you, leaning in a bit closer to you again. "I do," you quietly replied.

"I bet if I hadn't caught you, you would've watched me from my doorway until I busted all over my hand," he accused you. You didn't confirm nor deny his claim, but the look on your face said it all. "You've fantasized about this before, haven't you? Watching me stroke my cock for you.." He cooed, his voice trailing off as his breath quickened.

"How do you know that?" You asked, continuing to rub your clit in small, fast circles while the two of you gazed into each other's eyes. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lip as he bit down on it. "It was just a shot in the dark, but the fact that you just admitted to it.. fuck.. that's so hot," he whispered.

It was getting harder for each of you to hold back. The sound of each of you whimpering filled the room, along with the lewd, wet sounds of each of you pleasuring yourselves. You could feel the knot in your stomach forming and threatening to come undone any moment now.

That's when you heard your name unfurl from Chris' lips, followed by him saying in a gravelly voice, "Fuck. I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna bust all over my hand just for you." His words made your pussy throb, immediately sending you over the edge. Your whole body started to shake, the muscles in your core spasming.

"Chris.." you softly whined, gazing into his eyes as you came all over your fingers and his sheets that you were clutching onto tightly with your free hand. "Fuck," Chris moaned as he reached his own climax beside you. You peered down at his cock just in time to admire the pearly white substance that had shot all over his stomach and his chest.

Your gaze fell to his hand that was still steadily pumping his length, completely coated in a thick layer of his fluid. You watched as a few final ropes of cum ejected from his swollen tip and started to drip down the sides of his cock.

A guttural sound fell from his lips as he slowed down his strokes, draining every last drop. You each stared at each other, breathlessly, both of your chests heaving in unison. A look of bliss and satisfaction crossed both of your faces as you each sat there, processing what had just happened while you each tried to recover from your respective orgasms.

Chris reached for a dirty shirt that was on the floor to clean his mess up with. He glanced back over at you, still calling his breath back to him as he let out a soft chuckle. "This stays between us, okay? All of it. If you ever tell anyone, I'll deny it and tell them it was some weird, sick dream you had."

You nodded in agreement. You didn't want a single soul knowing that you and Chris had watched porn and gotten off together, and you certainly didn't want them knowing it had happened because you were peeping on him.

"Get back downstairs before one of my brothers wakes up," Chris replied, his intense blue eyes lingering on you. You got up and headed for the door, your heart racing when you realized the two of you had moaned each other's names rather loudly as you'd both finished. You prayed that it hadn't woken anybody up as you reached for Chris' door knob.

"You're so fuckin' pretty when you cum by the way," Chris mumbled from behind you. You stopped for a moment and glanced over your shoulder. "So are you," you said in response, watching Chris scroll through his phone, avoiding eye contact with you.

He chuckled, finding it both comical and endearing that 'pretty' was the descriptor you wanted to go with. "Thanks." Chris switched off his lamp, and you left his room, completely forgetting your toothpaste and facewash in Nick's room.

You tiptoed back downstairs, grateful that everyone was still sleeping soundly.

[submattsmxmmy]

roughdom!stepbro!chris x bratty!stepsis!reader

🖤 content warning: 🖤 smut, heavy stepsibling kink, oral (f!receiving), begging, praise/degradation, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, a wink to daddy kink, roughdom!stepbro!chris, brattysub!stepsis

🖤 summary: 🖤 chris barges into the bathroom after your shower, and things get hot and steamy.

hiiii it's @ariestrxsh and this is my backup account. i'd like to say sorry to my mom, sorry to god, and sorry to chris if you ever come across this depraved piece of writing. if you're not into the whole stepsibling kink, please don't read!!!

dividers by @/strangergraphics

holdyourbreath

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 |

"What the fuck's takin' so long?" Chris pounded on the bathroom door with a closed fist, startling you as you stood in front of the mirror in your towel. You rolled your eyes at his impatience. "I'll be out in just a minute!" You yelled, with your mouth full of toothpaste.

"What are ya doing in there? It sounds like you're suckin' dick or somethin'," Chris chuckled through the barrier. You quickly pulled open the door and glared at your stepbrother. "I'm brushing my teeth. Asshole," you said with the toothbrush between your lips.

"What did ya just call me?" Chris asked through clenched teeth, pushing past you with ease and shutting the door behind him. "Hey," you said, spitting into the drain and rinsing out your mouth before you whipped around. "I'm not done in here."

"Y'are now because I need a shower," Chris said, tilting your chin up to look at him. "I still have to do my nightly skin care routine, and I need to shave," you stomped at him, swatting his hand away. He pushed you up against the sink, looked into your eyes, and pulled his shirt off over his head, discarding it onto the tile floor beneath the two of you.

"Why are you bein' such a fuckin' brat?" Chris asked, biting his lip at you and pushing a strand of your freshly washed hair behind your ear. You hated that he was turning you on, but you couldn't hide it from him. A look of desperation seeped through your otherwise unamused expression as your eyes dropped to his pretty mouth.

"You wanna kiss me?" Chris cooed, his lips moving closer to yours, but he stopped about an inch from your face, and you felt his warm breath as he spoke. "I can't kiss ya. You're my stepsister. It wouldn't be right." His lips curled into a devilish smile.

He was like forbidden fruit, and he'd never let you forget it. It's like he was taunting you. He'd stick his cock in every hole you had, but he wouldn't kiss you, because it was too romantic of a gesture. "You're dyin' to know what my lips feel like, aren't you?" Chris whispered, studying the neediness in your pout. You were silent, but your eyes confirmed his suspicion.

"I'm gonna show ya," he sneered at you, ripping your towel off of you, grabbing you by your waist, and setting you on the edge of the granite countertop. He fell to his knees and parted your legs, gazing up at you with his hypnotic stare.

"Tell me how bad ya want it," Chris cooed, spreading you open with his thumbs. "Please, Chris. Please lick it," you whined. "You're so wet," Chris gasped, admiring how turned on you were getting just from him taunting you.

"Please. I wanna know what your mouth feels like," you softly begged him, waiting for to acknowledge your desperation. He gave you a smirked before leaning in and closing the distance between your heat and his mouth, hooking your legs over his shoulders.

He roughly gripped your thighs while he made contact with your wet folds. His tongue lightly grazed your clit, and your whole body jerked at the sensation. His pillow soft lips enveloped your sensitive button, humming against it and extracting a few faint squeals from you.

He skillfully wiggled the tip of his tongue around, speeding up the pace of his licks and exploring your pussy in a way he hadn't yet. He couldn't get enough of your flavor or the way you writhed around beneath the feeling of his velvety mouth.

His movements became more jagged and aggressive while he listened to you softly singing the song of your pleasure, your pretty moans pouring from your lips like thick honey. Your hands traveled to the back of Chris' head, gently combing through his luscious mane of hair and feeling his locks softly pass through the space between your fingers.

His blue eyes gazed up at you, his stare filled with hunger and desire. He lapped up your drenched, intricate folds, drinking from you as if your pussy were a fountain with life-giving properties. You felt that funny feeling in your lower stomach, a sign that you were on the verge of pure bliss.

You arched your back slightly, moving one hand to grip the counter while the other reached for Chris' back. Your nails dragged across his flesh, leaving five, long red marks in their wake.

You had just taken a deep breath and were about to let out an unhindered and final moan before finishing on Chris' tongue when a knock at the bathroom door startled you both. You released your hold on the granite beneath you and threw your palm over your mouth, holding your breath.

"Honey? Are you in there?" Your dad's voice came through, sounding muffled through the barrier. You peered down at Chris wide-eyed, silently begging him to help you out. Chris deviously smiled up at you, remaining silent and continuing to work his tongue in your special place.

You did your best to compose yourself, realizing you were going to have to answer. You slowly removed your trembling hand so you could speak.

"Yes, daddy?" You called out, stabilizing the shakiness in your voice as much as you could. Chris quietly chuckled against your heat, secretly loving hearing you say that word while he was doing something so naughty to you.

"Have you seen your stepbrother?" Your dad wondered. "No, sorry! Haven't!" You exclaimed, keeping your responses short to better conceal what was happening on your side of the door. Your hand flew up and cupped your mouth again to deaden the sounds of the moans that were begging to escape your lips.

"Okay, no problem. Well, I'll let you get back to it!" Your dad responded, not knowing exactly what it was, and he started walking down the hallway back to another part of the house. "Chris! You're so mean," you hissed.

"Ya love it," he moaned against your sweet spot as all ten of your nails scraped against the skin of his shoulder blades again. He started to pull away, but you dug into his flesh even more. "Please don't stop. I'm begging you, Chris," you whimpered.

"Relax. I'm gonna let ya finish this time as long as you're a good girl for me, can ya do that?" Chris asked, glancing up at you. You nodded. He removed your legs from his shoulders, and he stood up.

He tugged down the waistband of his sweatpants, revealing his cock in all its glory, and you stared down longingly at it. He placed it at your entrance, but he didn't put it in yet, and your eyes flickered up at his, silently asking for him to keep going.

"What is it, princess? Ya got somethin' to say?" Chris cooed, teasing your folds with the head while he smirked at you. "Please, Chris," you mumbled, nibbling on your bottom lip. "Please what?" He asked, taking pleasure in your desperation.

"Please put it in," you whined in a needy voice. He obliged, only inserting the tip. "Chris," you hissed, getting fed up with all his teasing. "What is it, princess?" Chris cradled your face, trying to conceal his smug smirk.

He knew exactly what he was doing, and he loved feeling you squirm around as you tried to scoot forward on the counter to take more of him. "Don't go misbehavin' now. Use your words and ask me nicely," Chris sweetly responded, his hands wandering to your hips to hold you still.

"Please, Chris. Put it in all the way," you softly begged him, placing your hands on his chest and feeling his warmth. "Like this?" He asked, suddenly jerking his hips forward and sinking into your drooling hole as you let out a gentle whimper.

You felt disgusted with yourself every time you begged for him to fuck you, but never enough to keep yourself from doing it. You needed him, and he knew it.

You stretched around him as he snugly filled you. His movements were slow, but each thrust was powerful and hard. You felt your walls clench around him, and you hooked your arms underneath his, dragging your nails down his back again as he hit your gspot over and over.

"You're such a fuckin' slut. You can't get enough of me, can ya?" Chris grunted, reading you like a book. You squeezed your legs around Chris' hips, causing his thrusts to hit even deeper, your eyes rolling into the back of your head in response.

He wrapped his arm around your waist, anchoring you in place. He picked up the pace, using faster strokes while you whimpered into his ear. "Ya take my cock like such a good girl," he praised you, his breathing becoming more labored as its warmth hit the right side of your neck.

Chris admired your figure and the curve of your back in the mirror through his hooded eyes as he indulged in the pleasure your body gave him.

"Wonder if your friends would tease ya if they knew how often you think about me like this," Chris chuckled, mounting you while your nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders.

"Wonder what my friends would think if I told them how well ya take cock. I bet they'd wanna test it out for themselves. And I bet you'd let them. It's not like you're picky. You'll even take your own stepbrother willingly, hmm?" His voice was thick with lust.

You loved the way he taunted you and degraded you, and for a moment, you thought his words might tip you over the edge. "Wonder what mom and dad would think if they knew what a little whore you are and how desperately you beg for it every time," Chris whispered, his lips tickling your earlobe as he spoke, sending shivers down your spine.

You threw your head back and let out a strangled moan, trying not to make too much noise while you clenched around him. With every stroke, you felt yourself become weaker, unable to hold on much longer. "Chris, please," you softly whined.

"Be a good girl and use your words, hmm? Please, what?" He asked in a sweet, condescending tone. "You know.." you responded quietly. "I can't read your mind, princess. I need ya to tell me. Need ya to beg for it," his lips curled into a smile, knowing you had you in the palm of his hand.

"Please let me finish, Chris," you begged him, started to spasm around his member. "Not so fast, princess. Beg harder," he growled. "Let me cum, Chris. I need it," you pleaded with him, your acrylics clawing down his back as you neared the finish line.

"Not yet. Control yourself like a good girl. Don't cum yet or else you're gonna be in big trouble," he breathlessly told you as he roughly snapped his hips forward, trying to make it hard for you as possible to obey him. "Chris," you hissed, feeling him throb inside of you.

He dismissed you, ignoring your pleas to finish and continued pounding away. You knew you needed to beg harder, but it felt so degrading every time you did, and you were always hoping he would give in before you.

He had a choke hold on you - figuratively and now literally. He reached up and wrapped his fingers around your neck and forced you to look him in the eye. "Be a good girl and beg for it before I don't let ya cum at all," he rasped a few inches from your face. You nodded.

"Please Chris. I'll do anything. Please let me finish," you wailed, desperate tears forming in your eyes. He loved watching you get so needy that you were crying for him, and he almost came at the sight of how pathetic you looked as you begged.

"That's it. Keep goin'," he encouraged you, your legs beginning to tremble around him. "Please. I can't take it. I need it, Chris. I need it so bad. I've been such a good girl for you," you softly whimpered, leaving behind physical marks of your torment in the form of red lines down more areas of his midback.

"You have been a good girl, haven't ya? Ya didn't even talk back to me this time. Ya must want it bad," he purred, his voice saturated with seduction. You hummed, nodding your head in response.

"Why don't ya finish all over my cock, princess? I know ya want to," he looked back at you with glazed over blue eyes, his jaw slacked, and pleasure written on his face. He was just as close as you were.

He reeled you in closer to him, placing his full lips on yours and moaning into your mouth as you finished onto his rod. His tongue gently grazed yours, and when he pulled away from the kiss, he had your bottom lip caught between his teeth, drawing a few drops of blood as he bit down.

You whimpered as your walls fluttered around his throbbing cock. Your orgasm erupted deep within your core, sending ripples of satisfaction through your nervous system.

His pretty sounds filled the room as he pulled out of you and started stroking it with his hand, watching his pearly white substance squirt out of the tip of his twitching cock and making a mess on your glistening pussy that was still clenching around nothing.

"Oh my god. Fuck, that was so hot," he said in a soft, sultry tone as a smile came creeping into his expression as he released his hold around your throat.

"I thought you said you weren't going to kiss me," you replied faintly, blushing and reaching up to brush your fingertips against your lips. "I couldn't help it. Your eyes were beggin' for it," he breathlessly answered you, pulling away and smirking as he cleaned off his cock with his t-shirt.

You closed your legs and hopped off the granite countertop and picked up your towel from off the floor to cover yourself. Once he started to recover from how hard he just came, he felt a stinging sensation on his back, and he turned around in front of the mirror, assessing the pain. He let out an annoyed sigh.

"Such a little slut, aren't ya? Marking me up with your nails? What am I supposed to tell people when they ask where I got these scratches, huh? Tell 'em I got 'em from my stepsister? Jeez, kid. Tell your nail tech to go shorter on the acrylics next time."

part four here 🖤

[holeforzenin]

Tw - Stepbrother choso, soft dom Choso?, fingering, pussy eating, squirting but reader didn't know what it was, oversimulation, ass play. Reader is 20 about to start college and choso is 23. This shit is honestly pretty filthy. I'm sorry for any errors.

Thinking about...

Your mom getting remarried to another man and you having to move into a new house and adjust to your new household, it wasn't going to be easy, it's a whole different chapter of your life beginning and a lot of things were going to change and be different.

But no matter what you vowed to try your very best to make everything easier for your mom, whatever it takes. She been through a lot in her past relationship and now she's finally happy and smiling so you'll do anything you possibly can to keep it that way. It's just so weird being the only child and now having to get used to having a new sibling, he was 5 years older than you, you don't really interact with him that much, you just wanna get all this over with till you can finally move out and begin college once summer ends.

Well things just happened to take an unexpected turn pretty fast.

"Be a good girl for me and keep still yeah?" he whispered to you while slamming two of his long thick fingers into your cunt nonstop. It was too much, he made you came on his fingers two times already yet he still kept going, scissoring and curling his digits against your tight walls while he fucks it in and out of you, the wet squelch of your cunt filling the room. He had you laying on his lap with your body folded on half, one of his hands gripping your thigh while the other is plunging into your cunt, you couldn't help but squirm on top of him.

"T'much, c-can't anymore please, t'much cho" you whimpered, nails sinking into his forearm.

He looked down at you smirking, "Cum f'me one more time then I'll stop, deal?", you reluctantly nodded your head, your poor cunt was so sore from all the times he'd do stuff like this, which is every night when your parents are asleep he'd sneak into your room and play with your poor little cunny so he can prepare you for when he's gonna give you the real thing and fuck you silly with his thick cock.

"Fuckkk baby you have no idea how much I wanna sink my cock into this cunt right now", He hisses, feeling your walls tighten around his fingers, his cock straining to be released from his boxers.

"Need you to cum f'me right now, c'mon princess you can do it". He encourages, fucking his fingers into your slopping cunt knuckles deep, faster and faster, hitting your sweet spot while he brought his thumb to your clit, flickering and rubbing small circles on it as he helped you climb to your orgasm.

Your head fell back against his chest as you came undone on his fingers. You cried out as he continued pumping his fingers inside of you throughout your orgasm, your toes curling while your eyes were rolling back of your head.

His eyes were glued to your body and face, paying attention to how your body reacted while your cumming, how you look so pretty with your eyes rolling back, he can't wait to see that exact scene but with his cock splitting your tight in half instead.

You came so much, your juices were leaking onto his lap, he licked his lips looking at how creamy your cunt was glistening as he slowly began pulling his fingers out of you. Strings of your slick connecting to your cunt and his fingers before snapping when he pulled away.

"Such a messy girl, see all the dirty mess you made princess?" he chuckled "What kind of big brother would i be if I don't help my sweet little sister clean all of this up?" He questions before he manhandles your body from his lap and places your back onto the bed.

He quickly got between your thighs, pressing both back towards you so your body could be folded, he took a moment to stare at your leaky wet cunt, the way there's cum dripping out of your entrance, leaking down to your asshole it was so messy. He dragged his tongue to your asshole before licking all the cum off it in one swipe up to your cunt, then he started lapping your entrance, making sure to clean and lick all the cum off with his tongue in the process so he could taste you, he loves eating your cunt so fucking much, the taste drives him absolutely crazy, always making him coming back for more. It was delicious.

"F-fuck!" you hiccupped "N-not so fast cho, s'much slow down please" you cried out, trying to push his head away, tugging on his hair, only to earn a groan from him while he ignored you and kept slurping on your cunt like a hungry man that just got his favorite meal for the first time in forever.

He kept swirling his tongue on your clit while his fingers are digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, eyes fixated on your lewd expressions while your loud moans and cries filled the room.

It was just too much; your legs were shaking, you tried to move yourself but couldn't because of his strong grip on your thighs. All you could do is lay there, whimpering and crying as he feasts on your poor cunt. You felt your tummy start feeling weird, everything started feeling strange, like something different was about to happen. The new sensation of your body being stimulated launching you over the edge, making you jolt and writhe.

"Oh my god! Oh my god cho! Something's coming, feel so weird fu-fuck!" you warned, panicking as you attempt to try and push his head away only for his grip around your thighs to get tighter, he starts sucking your clit, as he pushes two of his fingers into your soppy fuckhole, fingerfucking the shit out of you, it was honestly so fucking nasty, the noises that were being made, literally everything.

He was acting like an actual fucking animal, groaning into your pussy while he's slurping and sucking on your clit as his thick fingers working its way in and out of your wet sloppy cunny. Your brain gets all fuzzy and blank as you released whatever it was, clear liquid gushing out of you like a fucking water hose, your back arching against the bed as you grip onto the sheets screaming, you might've even woken your parents up for fuck's sake. You squirted all over Choso's pretty face, his shirt was drenched, his fingers, everything. Yet that nasty motherfucker still kept licking up your leaking cunt, his tongue lapping up all your juices from your dripping hole then he makes his way to your asshole, circling his tongue around your puckered hole before giving it a few kitten licks, making sure that he licks up every bit of your pussy juice since it seems like a burden to him to let any go to waste. Flickering his tongue on your hole as it's fluttering and winks against the pad of it while his long fingers still slamming into your poor tired hole. It was so fucking much that you felt like passing out as you start crying and whimpering even more.

After he was 100% sure he licked your cunny and everywhere else squeaky clean and was satisfied, he pulls away from you, panting and trying to catch his breath before moving closer towards you, he picks your head up with his arms, cradling it while wiping away your pathetic tears.

"S'okay princess I got you it's okay" he allows you to catch your breath as you calm yourself down. "Did so well f'me, such a good girl, aren't you?". He cooed, planting a kiss on your forehead.

"Cho-choso what was that! What happened!??" you asked nervously. "It's nothing bad baby, don't worry about it, you did a great job".

"Gonna make you do that same shit again tomorrow but on my fucking cock got it?".

Bonus

Visual on how he was eating your cunt but he was def doing way more than that since he's such a sick desperate fucker.

[jungkoode]

5 SECONDS TO FREEDOM | prologue

˗ˏˋ debts unpaid ˎˊ˗

"In Tokyo's underground, there are only two currencies that matter—respect and reputation. When someone threatens to take both, you don't just race them. You destroy them."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 3.5k

content: street racing culture, debt collection, first meetings, midnight races, dangerous driving, Spanish endearments as provocation, the dynamics of Tokyo's underground scene, and your first defeat in nineteen months.

✧ author's note ✧

Soooo here we fucking go.

I've been obsessing over this story for months—I think we all know that lmaooo I think I posted the teaser like a couple months ago and I was devastated because it barely got 50 notes. But you know what, this was still in my head so I did write some drabbles—and I kind of shaped the prologue, which is what you’re gonna read below hahaha.

“But Kiki we just sent you 45 asks telling you to rest” AND I SAID SIKE??? No actually, I’m okay I promise! Usually writing different stories is what prevents me from burning out, because I get frustrated with the same storyline so it’s like… I write something else and my brain goes ‘yay thanks’. You know, ADHD—shiny new toy, mind dances to the music.

Anyways, so. I love this. I love this because as always I get to experiment with different personalities and psychological backgrounds and what I fucking love about these two is the masks they wear and how opposite they are. He’s cocky and arrogant, but in a different way FMU!jungkook is. She’s determined and ambitious, always pushing for more, but still very distinct from all my other Y/N’s because she’s handling different situations (you’ll see in later chapters).

And Hachiroku and Jaque aren't just racing personas—they're escapes. And what makes this delicious is that they're running from opposite lives. One from privilege, one from struggle. Both finding freedom in the same five seconds at the starting line.

And yes, the cars matter. They're not just vehicles; they're extensions of identity. The AE86 is legendary for a reason—not the most powerful, but perfectly balanced in the hands of someone who knows exactly what they're doing (sound familiar?). Meanwhile, the R34 Skyline is raw, unapologetic power held in check by someone who understands precisely when to unleash it.

AS ALWAYS—READ THE AUTHOR INTRO AND TW listed in the index post. This is a must before reading this story.

Fair warning: this isn't going to be a clean race. These characters are messy. They make decisions that will make you want to scream at them. They'll crash into each other's lives and leave debris everywhere, and the kind of attraction that feels like a guardrail giving way on a mountain pass.

But that's the point, isn't it? The most interesting stories happen in the dangerous curves.

So buckle up. We've got a long road ahead.

Ready? Light’s about to turn green.

Also. Notes for this one are pretty high, that’s intentional. Like I just wanted to post the prologue to have it out for a bit but I still need to work on the arcs and major plot points. So I don’t have the story fully shaped out for now, which is why I want this to rest and check for engagement and reactions. Seriously—don’t crash out, I know this one will take time and that’s absolutely my intention!

Edit: prologue takes place 6 months before the main storyline!

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

Respect isn't given in Tokyo's underground—it's paid in cash or blood.

You roll the cherry lollipop against your teeth, counting seconds in your head like engine timing.

Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty-six hours since you left Kalo and his overpriced Supra in your rearview on the Hakone downhill, his taillights disappearing around the corner while you took the perfect line through the hairpin that everyone else brakes too hard for.

It's nighttime at Daikoku.

You cross one leg over the other, letting your heeled boot dangle casually off the edge of your AE86's hood. The mini skirt wasn't a random choice. Neither was showing up without your racing gear.

Because tonight isn't about driving—it's about collecting.

"Kalo's nowhere to be seen," Maya says, leaning against your car's hood, arms crossed. "Dipped hard."

You don't bother looking at her, just shift the lollipop to the other side of your mouth with your tongue. The neon from nearby signs reflects off the polished black and white paint of your 86.

"What?" Maya catches your expression. "I'm just saying. Word is he's been avoiding this spot since you embarrassed him."

"While still flashing cash at that club in Roppongi," you add, voice flat. "Buying drinks for anyone who'll listen to his bullshit version of what happened on the mountain."

You tug at one of the layered chains around your neck, watching the crowd that's gathered tonight.

The usual suspects are here—wannabes with more money than skill taking photos of each other's cars, veterans huddled around hoods talking suspension setups, scouts looking for the next race.

Everyone except the one person who should be here with your money.

"So what's the plan?" Maya nudges your shoulder. "Just gonna sit here looking pretty until he magically appears?"

You roll your eyes. "Since when do I just sit and wait for anything?"

"Fair point." She grins that wolfish grin of hers. "So?"

"So I track his ass down." You twist the lollipop stick between your fingers. "He owes me fifty thousand yen. But more than that, he owes me the respect of paying up and admitting I smoked him fair and square."

Maya snorts, exactly as you expected. "Called it. Knew you wouldn't let this slide."

"It's not about the money." You straighten up, adjusting your cropped leather jacket. "It's about the principle. You lose a race, you pay your debts. That's how this works. You don't just disappear like some amateur who can't handle defeat."

"Especially not when he talked all that shit beforehand," Maya adds, picking at her black nail polish. "What was it he said again? Something about how no girl could ever handle his—"

"'No girl could handle my power on the downhill,'" you quote dryly. "Right before I passed him on the outside of that corner everyone brakes for."

The memory brings a slight smile to your face.

The shock in his eyes when you appeared in his side mirror where no car should have been able to fit.

The desperate overcorrection that sent him nearly scraping the guardrail while you smoothly accelerated away.

"Exactly." Maya pushes off your hood. "So what's the first move? Hit his usual spots?"

You pull the lollipop from your mouth with a pop. "Already did. Club Seventh in Roppongi. The garage where his uncle works in Setagaya. That ramen shop he's always at in Shibuya."

"Stalker much?" Maya raises an eyebrow.

"Thorough," you correct her. "There's a difference."

A brief silence falls between you as you both watch a metallic blue GT-R roll into the lot, bass thumping hard enough to vibrate the pavement.

Not Kalo's crowd—these guys run with the Yokohama crew.

"Kenji might know," you say finally, referring to your mutual friend who somehow knows everyone's business in Tokyo's racing scene. "He mentioned Kalo's been hanging around some new spot in Meguro the past week."

Maya pulls out her phone. "Want me to text him now?"

"Already did." You tap your boot against the bumper of your car. "He's supposed to meet us here in—" you check the time on your wrist "—fifteen minutes ago."

"Typical." Maya rolls her eyes. "That guy couldn't be on time if his life depended on it."

You're about to respond when you spot a familiar face weaving through the crowd. Kenji, with his signature sunglasses despite it being well past midnight, making his way toward you.

You straighten up slightly, not wanting to appear too eager for information.

"Ladies," he greets with that irritating smirk of his, adjusting his sunglasses even though there's absolutely no need. "Looking dangerous tonight, Y/N. Someone's not here to race."

"Just tell me what you know about Kalo," you say, cutting through his bullshit.

Kenji leans against your car without asking—a liberty you allow only because he's useful.

"Direct as always. That's what I like about you."

"Kenji," you warn, patience already wearing thin.

"Fine, fine." He holds up his hands in surrender. "Your boy's been hanging at this new garage in Meguro. Place called Midnight Rush. Trying to get in with that crew that runs the Wangan on weekends."

You raise an eyebrow. "The twins' territory? That's desperate even for him."

"After what you did to his reputation?" Kenji shrugs. "Man's gotta find somewhere to start over."

Maya laughs. "Not how this works. You don't just reset when you lose."

"Exactly." You shift your weight, boot heels clicking against the pavement. "So he's there tonight?"

"Should be. They're prepping for some big run tomorrow. Word is there's serious money changing hands. He's trying to buy his way in."

The conversation halts as the distinctive growl of an approaching engine cuts through the night.

Not just any engine—something with a tune you've never heard before.

Sharp. Aggressive. Perfectly balanced.

Heads turn as a midnight purple Skyline R34 GT-R glides into the parking area, before coming to a stop under the harsh parking lot lights.

"Who the hell is that?" Maya straightens up, suddenly alert.

Kenji's expression shifts from boredom to interest in an instant—a rare change for him. "New player. Goes by Jaque."

You study the car, assessing rather than admiring.

Aftermarket body kit, but tasteful. Custom wheels. The stance is aggressive but functional.

Whoever built this wasn't just throwing money at it—they knew exactly what they were doing.

"Jaque?" you repeat, keeping your voice neutral despite your curiosity. "What kind of name is that?"

"Latino guy. Showed up about a month ago." Kenji lowers his voice, shifting into the gossip mode he lives for. "Been cleaning up. Undefeated so far."

Your eyebrow rises slightly at that.

Undefeated is a bold claim in this scene.

"Never heard of him," Maya says, voicing what you're thinking.

"That's because he's been running mostly on the Wangan line. Outrunning cops, taking stupid risks. The kind of shit that gets you noticed fast." Kenji's eyes remain fixed on the car. "Word is he beat Hayato's record on the C1 loop last week."

That gets your attention, though you're careful not to show it.

Hayato's record has stood for three years.

This guy has broken it in a month.

Who the fuck is this?

Your question is answered when the driver's door opens, and the crowd's murmur intensifies. A figure emerges, oozing the confidence of someone who knows they belong anywhere they choose to be.

Not tall, but with a presence that fills the space around him. Dark hair, sharp jawline, and a smirk that suggests he's already three steps ahead of everyone else.

"He drives like he's got nothing to lose," Kenji adds, a note of genuine respect in his voice that you rarely hear. "Like he doesn't care if he crashes or dies. It's... I don’t know man. Something else."

You watch as the driver—Jaque, apparently—leans back against his Skyline, surveying the crowd like he's taking inventory.

His gaze sweeps across the parking lot, until it lands on your group.

Or more specifically, on you.

He gives you a small nod, as if acknowledging territory.

"Looks like you've got an admirer," Maya mutters, nudging your ribs.

You shrug, unimpressed. "Looks like another ego with a nice car."

But you don't look away, and neither does he. It's a standoff of sorts, neither willing to be the first to break eye contact.

You've played this game before with countless racers who thought they were hot shit.

You've never been the first to look away.

"Don't dismiss him so quickly," Kenji warns, surprising you. "I've seen him drive. I’m dead serious, it’s not normal."

"Nobody's unbeatable," you say, finally breaking the staring contest to look back at Kenji.

Just because you had to look back at Kenji.

"Maybe." Kenji shifts uncomfortably. "But this guy... he doesn't race like a normal person. It's like he's got some kind of death wish, but with the skill to back it up."

You scoff, though something about Kenji's tone—the genuine concern beneath his usual bullshit—gives you pause.

"Death wish or not, a car's a car, and physics is physics. There are rules to this game that nobody breaks."

Maya's watching you with that knowing look she gets when she can tell someone's gotten under your skin, even just a little.

"You want to find out, don't you?"

"I want to find Kalo and get my money," you correct her, though your eyes drift back to the Skyline against your will. "That's why we're here."

You scoff at Maya's knowing smirk, about to tell her to shut it when fragments of conversation float over from where the newcomer stands. One word cuts through the ambient noise of engines and chatter.

Kalo.

Your head snaps toward the source.

The Skyline guy—Jaque—leans against his car, talking to a small circle of racers. His hands move expressively as he speaks, gold bracelet catching the neon light.

"Kenji." You cut him off mid-sentence. "Who exactly is this guy talking to?"

Kenji follows your gaze. "Nobody important. Some Yokohama kids trying to get noticed." He adjusts those stupid sunglasses. "Why?"

"He just mentioned Kalo."

Maya straightens beside you. "You sure?"

No mistaking it. Not when you've been hunting that name for two weeks.

"Excuse me," you say, already moving.

Maya sighs behind you. "Here she goes again."

You don't look back. Your boots click purposefully across the pavement, moving slowly. Not rushing—you never rush. But determined.

Three guys surrounding Jaque glance up as you approach, their expressions shifting from interest to wariness. They know who you are.

He doesn't turn immediately. Keeps talking, voice carrying a rhythm unlike anything you've heard in Tokyo. An accent that doesn't belong here.

Only when you're close enough to count the stitches on his leather jacket does he acknowledge your presence.

And even then, it's just a partial turn. Forty-five degrees. Neck cradling slightly to look at you sideways.

Performative, if anything. Like he knew you were coming before you did.

You cross your arms, weight shifting to one hip. His mouth twitches upward at the corner, eyes traveling from your face down to your boots and back up again.

Not subtle about it at all.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this sight?" Velvet slides from his lips.

One eyebrow quirks upward, the slightest movement. His Japanese is fluent but different—consonants softened, vowels stretched in places they shouldn't be.

You narrow your eyes. "You mentioned Kalo. What do you know about him? What's your relationship?"

He studies you for two full seconds. Not answering. Just looking. Like he's trying to read something written in small print.

Then he chuckles, using two fingers to move a thin strand of dark hair that's fallen across his view. The movement is unnecessary. Theatrical. Done for effect.

"Why so serious, princesa?"

It’s Spanish, the last word. You know that much, know from the way the word rolls off his tongue, deliberate, inserted where it doesn't belong. Like he’s testing boundaries, hoping for a reaction.

"I asked you a question." You keep your voice unimpressed.

"And I asked you one too."

He turns to face you fully now, leaning back against his car with the casualness of someone who's never been afraid of anything.

"But since you came all this way... Kalo. The Supra guy, right? The one who races like he learned driving from a video game?"

The description is so accurate you almost smile.

Almost.

"I hear he owes someone money," he continues, watching your reaction carefully. "Someone who smoked him on the mountain course two weeks back. Embarrassed him so badly he's been hiding like a scared rabbit."

His three companions take subtle steps backward, no longer interested in being part of this conversation.

Smart.

Maya appears beside you, silent backup. Though her presence changes nothing in his demeanor.

"And how would you know about that?" you ask.

He shrugs one shoulder.

"People talk. I listen." His accent thickens when he adds, "Es lo que hago." (It’s what I do)

"Is that right?" You don't react to the Spanish. "Interesting that someone who just showed up knows so much about other people's business."

"I'm observant."

His eyes lock with yours.

"For example, I observe that you're not here to race tonight. That outfit? Those heels?" He clicks his tongue. "You're here to collect. To make a point."

Something cold slides down your spine. Not fear—you don't do fear. Something else.

Being read so easily isn't a sensation you're familiar with.

"What's your name again?" You ask it like you've already forgotten, though you haven't.

"Jaque." He says it with a slight emphasis on the second syllable. "And you're Y/N. The 86 driver who hasn't lost a mountain race in what, two years?"

"Nineteen months," Maya corrects automatically.

You shoot her a look.

Jaque's smile widens. "Nineteen months. Impressive."

"If you're done wasting my time," you say, turning slightly, "I have a debt to collect."

"From a guy who isn't here."

He pushes off his car, closing the distance between you by half a step. Not enough to be threatening. Just enough to make his presence unavoidable.

"And won't be. Not tonight," he adds.

"And you know that how?"

"Because I passed him on the expressway heading in the opposite direction. About twenty minutes ago." He taps his wrist where a watch would be. "Running scared, looked like."

You clench your jaw. If he's telling the truth, you've wasted your night. Another dead end in your hunt for the coward who owes you.

"So you just happened to recognize a stranger's car?" Maya asks, skepticism heavy in her voice.

"A white Supra with that terrible aftermarket body kit and the Rising Sun decal on the hood?" He makes a dismissive gesture. "Hard to miss. Hard to forget, unfortunately."

That description matches Kalo's car exactly; and the sick feeling in your stomach tells you he's not lying, as much as you'd like him to be.

"Well," you say, voice cooling by several degrees, "thanks for the information."

You turn to leave, disgusted at having your time wasted. First by Kalo's absence, now by this newcomer who clearly just wanted to get your attention. Another night, another waste.

"I'll pay you double what he owes you."

The words stop you mid-step.

You turn back slowly, measuring every movement.

"Excuse me?"

Jaque's expression hasn't changed, but something in his eyes has.

They’re gleaning.

"Fifty thousand yen, right? I'll make it a hundred." He says casually, like offering to buy a coffee. "If you beat me."

Maya makes a small sound beside you, something between a scoff and a laugh.

"And why would I race someone I don't know for money I don't need?"

You almost laugh. As if this is about the money. You were born into more yen than he’s ever seen—this is about respect. About principle. About owning your loss when someone beats you clean. No excuses. No saving face. Just bow your head and pay what you owe.

But he’s not done.

"Because you're curious." He says it like it's obvious. "Because you've been the best for nineteen months and you're bored. Because you want to know if I'm as good as they say."

"As good as who says?" You roll your eyes. "I've never heard of you before tonight."

"Then I must be doing something right." His smile shifts, becomes syrupy. "But if money doesn't motivate you, how about this—I win, I get to run with your crew. Race in your territory."

You can't help it—you laugh. Short and dismissive.

"That's not how this works. You don't just buy your way in." Your eyes flick to his car. "No matter how pretty your GT-R is."

"I'm not buying," he corrects, that accent slipping into his Japanese again. "I'm earning. Difference."

You narrow your eyes.

Maya leans close to your ear. "You're not seriously considering this?"

You should walk away. This guy is nobody. A newcomer with a nice car and too much confidence. The racing scene sees them every month. They come, they crash, they disappear.

But.

Something about the way he stands there, utterly certain of himself, gets under your skin.

Like he already knows your answer before you do.

And maybe it's the wasted night. Maybe it's two weeks of hunting Kalo with nothing to show for it. Maybe it's just the need to put someone in their place.

"One race," you hear yourself say.

Maya's head whips toward you in surprise.

"One race," you continue, "and when I win, you pay double what Kalo owes me, and you don't bother me again."

"And when I win," he counters, not missing a beat, "I race with your crew. Simple."

"If," you correct.

"When." He doesn't back down.

One calculated step closer brings his scent into focus. Leather, naturally, but beneath it something that doesn't compute. A scent that belongs to ryokan inns and meditation halls, not this arrogant foreigner.

Hinoki.

"You're awfully confident for someone who knows nothing about me or how I drive."

"And you're awfully defensive for someone who's supposedly unbeatable." His voice drops lower, meant for your ears only. "What are you afraid of, princesa?"

The Spanish word again. A barb. Challenging.

"Afraid?" You match his tone. "I'm trying to save you the embarrassment. And the money."

He laughs, so genuine that it catches you off guard. "So it's settled then. You and me. Tonight."

From the corner of your eye, you see Kenji approaching, drawn by the developing scene. Others are watching too.

Word travels fast in this world.

"Fine." You extend your hand, a formality in this world of verbal contracts. "My terms. My course."

He takes your hand. His grip is firm but not aggressive. Just right. His palm warm against yours.

"Your course," he agrees. "But I pick when."

You raise an eyebrow. "When, then?"

His smile widens, showing teeth. "Now."

Death has a rhythm.

Tonight, it sounds like Daddy Yankee.

The mountain is yours—every curve, every shadow, every inch of guardrail. You've memorized each crack in the asphalt like the lines on your palm.

Yet as you sit at the starting line, engine purring, the midnight purple Skyline beside you blasts "Gasolina" loud enough to vibrate your windows.

He's not even looking at the road.

Jaque's got hand on the wheel, the other tapping the window frame in rhythm.

Kenji stands between the cars, arms raised.

You grip your steering wheel tighter.

Focus. Calculate. This is your mountain. Your rules.

"Ready!" Kenji shouts.

You check your gauges, settle into position, drop your breath rate. Your 86 is an extension of your body.

"Set!"

Jaque turns to you—actually turns his head away from the road—and winks.

Winks.

What the fuck is his problem?

Your jaw clenches so hard you hear teeth grinding.

"GO!"

You snap into the first gear immediately, launching forward as your tires bite into asphalt. Perfect traction. Perfect release. Your 86 shoots ahead exactly as calculated, exactly as it always does.

The Skyline stays even.

First corner approaches—tight right-hander with a nasty camber that catches amateurs by surprise. You brake at the perfect moment, downshift, feel the weight transfer as you clip the apex.

Textbook. Flawless. The corner you've taken hundreds of times.

The Skyline mirrors you exactly, staying in your blind spot. The bass from his music is still thumping through the night air.

Second corner. Third. Fourth. Each attack perfect, each line immaculate. And still, he's there. Not gaining, not falling behind. Just... present. Like a shadow you can't shake.

"What the hell is this guy playing at?" You mutter, taking the next hairpin with a controlled aggression that should give you an advantage.

Should.

Doesn't.

The Skyline follows, its midnight paint swallowing the moonlight instead of reflecting it. Through the next three corners, it continues—you lead, he follows, neither gaining ground.

Until the straightaway.

The road opens up, and you floor it. The 86 responds instantly, pushing you back into your seat. This is where your lighter weight should shine.

But the Skyline surges forward, twin-turbo engine unleashing a growl that slices the night.

He passes you.

Not aggressively. Not dangerously.

Just... efficiently.

Like it's the most natural thing in the world.

For the first time in nineteen months, you're staring at someone else's taillights.

"No fucking way."

You push harder, finding speed you rarely tap into. The gap closes slightly on the approach to the next corner—a sharp left with a cliff drop on the outside.

No guardrail. No room for error.

Normal people brake early here.

Jaque, as it turns out, is not normal people.

You don't brake until the last possible microsecond, throwing the 86 into the corner. The tires scream, traction at its absolute limit. You can feel them searching for grip, dancing on the edge of adhesion.

You exit the corner a car length behind him.

"Come on!" You slam the gearshift, pushing for more.

The next section is technical—five corners in quick succession. Your territory.

It's where precision matters more than power.

You close the gap. Corner by corner, inch by inch. Three more and you're on his bumper. Close enough to see his fingers still tapping against the frame slightly to the rhythm.

The next hairpin is your chance. The inside line is risky—there's barely enough room—but it's your mountain.

You know exactly how much space you need.

You dive for the gap.

For one beautiful moment, you're alongside him. Equal. Your front bumper inches past his door.

Then he does something impossible.

Instead of defending the line—instead of doing what any rational driver would do—Jaque throws his car into a drift so aggressive it sends the back end swinging wide, nearly touching the guardrail.

The move creates an arc that cuts you off, forces you to brake or crash.

You brake.

The maneuver costs him speed, should give you another chance to pass on exit.

But before you can capitalize, he's already accelerating out of the drift, the Skyline's all-wheel drive finding traction where none should exist.

"What the actual—"

The move was insane. Suicidal. The kind of thing that ends with twisted metal and sirens.

And he pulled it off like he was parallel parking.

For the final stretch—three corners and the last straightaway—you throw caution aside. Push beyond limits you usually respect. The 86 responds, giving everything it has.

It's not enough.

The Skyline crosses the finish line two car lengths ahead. You slam your palm against the steering wheel.

The taste of defeat is metallic in your mouth, foreign and despised.

You bring the 86 to a hard stop, tires protesting at the sudden deceleration.

The music still pounds from his car. That same goddamn song.

You throw open your door, adrenaline and anger propelling you forward. The cool mountain air hits your flushed face as you storm toward his car.

Because that last move? It wasn't just reckless—it was deadly. The kind of stunt that gets people killed on these mountains.

Words build in your throat. Sharp words. Words about respect for the mountain and death wishes and arrogance.

His door swings open as you approach. The music blasts louder without the barrier of glass and metal. He slides out with that same casual grace you saw when he called you princesa, when he winked before accelerating.

And something stops the words in your throat.

He shakes his head slightly, dark hair falling across his eyes before he pushes it back with one smooth motion. His other hand remains on the Skyline's roof, some golden ring catching the moonlight.

When he turns to face you, there's no triumph in his expression. No arrogance.

Just... satisfaction.

Like he's found something he's been looking for.

His eyes meet yours across the short distance. That smile appears again—not the cocky smirk from earlier, but something more genuine. Lips curved just slightly at the corners.

"Thanks for the adrenaline rush, mami," he says, voice carrying over the pounding beat of Daddy Yankee.

You've never hated Spanish music more in your life.

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[pitlanepeach]

The Long Way Home I Chapter Seven

Oscar Piastri x Harper Grace (OFC)

Summary — When Harper, a kind girl with a guarded heart, meets rising karting star Oscar Piastri at their English boarding school, sparks fly.

It only takes one silly moment of teenaged love for their lives to change forever.

Warnings — Teenage love, growing up together, falling in love, teen pregnancy, no explicit scenes when the characters are underaged (obviously??), strong language, manipulative parents, past death of a parent, dyscalculia, hardly any angst, slice-of-life basically!

Notes — Surprise update! Yes, it's 1am and this is the longest chapter so far. Shhh. I'm craving porridge (is it the boarding school nostalgia? Probably)!

Wattpad Link | Series Masterlist

They lay side by side in Oscar's narrow bed, Harper curled into his chest like she was trying to disappear into him. The radiator in the corner clicked every few minutes, rattling weakly like it was barely holding the heat hostage.

Sam was snoring softly in the other bed, back turned, face half-buried in his pillow. He hadn't asked many questions when Harper had climbed through the window earlier in her socks and school jumper. Just lifted his head, blinked once, and mumbled, "She staying?"

Oscar had nodded. Sam had grunted and rolled over.

Now, in the dark, the room felt small. Still. Safe, in that oddly teenage, temporary way — like nothing outside of it could reach them for a little while.

Harper's breath warmed the space between them. She shifted, tugging the scratchy blanket higher over her shoulders.

"I think I'm going to start showing soon," she whispered, voice barely there.

Oscar didn't say anything right away. His hand rested against the small of her back, thumb moving slow, calming circles just under the hem of her sweatshirt. He could feel the warmth of her skin and the tension still coiled beneath it.

"Maybe," he said eventually. "Dunno. Maybe not for a few more weeks."

"I'll need a new uniform skirt soon. Mine's tight."

"Headmaster said you could wear leggings if you wanted."

"I know." She exhaled sharply. "But I like wearing a skirt. And leggings'll just make people stare more than they already do."

Oscar winced slightly. "Yeah. Didn't take long for everyone to find out, did it?"

No. No, it hadn't.

It was late January now. They'd known about the baby for just over three weeks — and the school had known for at least two. She wasn't even sure how. Maybe someone overheard a call. Maybe someone read her expression too closely one morning in chapel. Or maybe it had just been Sam.

"Pretty sure it was your roommate," she murmured. "Can't keep a secret to save his life."

Oscar snorted under his breath. "Yeah. I love him, but he's hopeless."

She hummed. "I hate being stared at."

Oscar glanced down. Her voice had gone quiet again.

"I always hated it," she said. "Even before all this. The way people would look at me like I was some painting they want to own. It happened a lot when I was little. With my dad."

Oscar leaned in and kissed her forehead, slow and soft. "Then they don't get to look at you anymore," he said. "Just me."

She raised an eyebrow. "Possessive."

"Protective," he corrected, then blushed awkwardly.

That made her smile. She buried her face against his chest again.

Outside, snow tapped gently at the dorm window. The radiator clicked again.

After a long moment, she whispered, "I'm so relieved, you know. That you were okay with me... wanting to go through with this." Her voice wobbled. "I know it's mad. I know we're fifteen, and scared and it's going to make everything ten times harder than normal. But I think—" Her throat caught. "I think I already love it. The baby."

Oscar didn't move. For a second, she worried maybe he'd frozen. Maybe he'd changed his mind.

Then he nodded. Just once.

"Okay," he said.

She blinked up at him, eyes glossy. "Okay?"

"We'll make it work," he said. "Whatever you want, Harp. That's what we do. Already told you that, didn't I?"

She wiped her cheek with her sleeve, her breathing hitching. "You did."

For a while, they were quiet. Just the soft rise and fall of two bodies pressed together, trying to be brave.

Then, like a pebble dropped into still water, she asked, "What was it like? Growing up?"

Oscar looked at her. "Me?"

"No," she said, deadpan. "The other guy in this bed."

He laughed. "Alright. Cheeky." Then he shrugged. "I dunno. Normal? Mum made me packed lunches. Dad travelled a lot for work. I've had a hardcore obsession with cars since I was about two."

Harper smiled. "That's endearing."

"You?"

She made a soft, ambiguous noise in the back of her throat.

"Different," she said eventually. "My childhood didn't look like the ones on TV. There wasn't the little house on the end of the street with the dad in the driveway and the golden retriever named Biscuit. My dad... he was who he was. And my mum—her parents were rich, but Dad was something else."

"What was his title again?" Oscar asked gently.

"Officially? Duke of Northamptonshire."

Oscar hummed. "Like... an actual duke?"

"Mm-hmm." She didn't sound smug about it. She sounded tired. "Land, estates, racehorses. It was old money. Generational. My mum always wanted the fashion thing to stand on its own. But she married into the aristocracy and she'll never let anyone forget it."

Oscar was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, "What was he like? Your dad?"

She went still. Not tense. Just... still.

"He was kind," she said softly. "That's the word that sticks. Kind, and a bit soft around the edges. He never seemed like the aristocrat they wrote about in Tatler. He used to sing really badly when he made breakfast. Always wore old jumpers that smelled like stale coffee and barn hay. He taught me how to play chess. Bought me this ridiculous rocking horse when I was six because one of my friends had one in her nursery and I liked it."

Oscar didn't speak. Just kept tracing soft lines against her back.

"I don't think he really fit in with all of it," she said after a moment. "With the world he came from. He was born into it, but he didn't play the part very well. He cared more about people than image, and she my mum... She loved him, but she hated that: Said he was wasting his pedigree. Whatever that means."

"What happened?" Oscar asked. "I mean... after the crash. To you two. You and your mum."

Harper swallowed. "We inherited it all from him. The land and the estates and the horses. But it just... didn't feel right anymore. Maybe it never did. But my mum was in so much pain after losing him — I think I reminded her too much of him, you know? I was his kid in all the ways that mattered — and that didn't fit the mould she wanted for me."

Oscar was quiet for a long time.

Finally, he said, "I think he'd be proud of you. For standing up for yourself."

Harper blinked hard. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. He sounds like someone who would appreciate that."

She let out a shaky breath and tucked her face against his collarbone.

The radiator clicked again.

They didn't say much after that.

—

The common room had that early-evening stink to it — heat trapped under polyester, Lynx Africa, and the vague aftersmell of instant noodles someone had overcooked in the microwave.

Harper sat curled up in the corner armchair, legs tucked under her. Oscar was on the floor beside her, stretched out, one knee bouncing, thumb skimming idly along the edge of her sock. She was pretending to revise for maths. Mostly just staring at the page, eyes glazed. Sam lay on the rug like a chalk outline, feet shoved under the coffee table. Alfie and Matt were slouched on the opposite sofa, playing some game on Matt's phone with the sound off. Jane was painting her nails with Tippex and a biro.

It was quiet in the way that only a room full of teenagers rooms could be — full of shifting bodies and chewing and low muttering and the occasional sigh, like the air itself was tired.

Across the room, near the vending machines, three Year Thirteen girls were clustered in a semicircle of swishy ponytails, fake eyelashes, and aggressively rolled-up skirts. They had that perpetual stink of Clinique Happy and entitlement.

"Bet she thinks she's some sort of martyr or summat," one of them said, too loud to be an accident. "Proper bitch, if you ask me."

"It was bound to happen, wasn't it? The Aussie's here for what, five minutes? And she's got her claws in him. Investment, innit."

One of them made a clucking noise. "Mad, really. Her mum's some fashion type but she still dresses like she shops in M&S. Thinks she's posh just 'cos of her dad's name; but he's just dust in a crypt somewhere."

"Fancy name, fancy voice, still just a fucking slag."

Oscar stilled like someone had pulled the handbrake on him mid-thought. Sam sat up with the kind of speed he usually reserved for food or FIFA.

Jane didn't even look away from her nails. "Fuck off."

The girls blinked.

"What?"

"You heard me," Jane said, standing now, holding the little brush like a weapon. "Shut the fuck up. And fuck off."

One of them gave a mocking little laugh. "Bit aggressive, aren't you?"

"Yeah, well," Jane said sweetly, "maybe if you weren't so fucking clapped, you'd be capable of getting laid. Then you wouldn't be so obsessed with the people who are."

Sam hauled himself to his feet and pointed a Dorito at them like it was a wand. "Cunts."

"Sam," Matt muttered, horrified.

"I said what I said," Sam declared, unfazed. "Cunts. Both of 'em."

Alfie barely looked up. "Don't stir it, mate. Let 'em chat shit. You know what they're like. They're just fucking jealous."

Oscar rose to his feet slowly. His face was blank, eyes fixed on the girls — no shouting, no swearing, but there was steel in his silence.

The ringleader rolled her eyes. "Didn't mean anything by it."

"Sure," Jane said, arms folded. "You just woke up and decided to be a bunch of silly cunts. Congrats."

The girls left in a huff of swished ponytails, gum-snapping, and muttered slurs.

Silence settled over the room again, heavy and a little awkward.

Sam flopped back down onto the rug like nothing had happened. "Well that was fun. Anyone wanna order a pizza to the gates?"

Harper hadn't said a word the whole time.

Oscar looked up at her. "You alright?"

She nodded, but it was the kind of nod that looked more like bracing herself than answering a question. "Girls being girls. Was bound to happen."

Jane plonked back onto the armrest beside her and sighed. "I'm gonna put Nair in their shampoo. Watch me."

Harper snorted.

"I don't need you guys to fight my battles for me," she said after a beat, voice low but steady.

"Nah," said Alfie, not looking up. "We know. But you're our mate, yeah? And mates have each other's backs."

Harper blinked. She hadn't expected that from Alfie. He looked mildly horrified that he'd said something sincere, and immediately buried himself back in the game on Matt's phone.

Oscar leaned into her leg again, grounding her.

"Are they like that a lot?" He asked.

Harper gave a tired little shrug. "Some of them. It's just—That's how it is, Osc. Rich girls aren't taught how to make friends. We're taught to win rooms. Be the most valued person in it. At whatever cost."

Oscar frowned, then rested his chin against her knee. "You're the most valued person in this room."

"Only 'cause Jane hasn't finished her nails yet."

"Whatever you say, Lady Harper." He teased, lightly.

Harper huffed and let her eyes fall closed for a second. The warmth of him against her leg. Jane's foot gently nudging hers. Sam's fake-sleep breathing. The way Alfie kept pretending not to look up, like he'd jump in again if needed.

It didn't make everything okay.

But it made right now a little easier to bear.

—

The radiators were rattling again. They did that now — made a sort of mechanical clunk every ten minutes, like they were choking on their own ancient pipes. Sam had taken to kicking it every time it made a noise. So far, that hadn't fixed it. But it seemed to make him feel better.

Harper sat cross-legged at the foot of Oscar's bed, a Biology workbook open across her lap, biro tucked behind one ear, hair tied up with the bobble she'd stolen from Jane last week. Her blazer was somewhere on the floor in a heap, beside a half-eaten KitKat, an empty Ribena carton, and a pair of socks that definitely didn't belong to her.

Oscar was leaning against the wall, legs stretched out, a notebook in his lap. He was chewing the end of his pen like it had personally wronged him. His hair was a disaster — slightly flattened on one side, sticking up on the other. He hadn't shaved in three days and still couldn't grow a real moustache.

Sam was draped across his own bed, limbs splayed like he'd been dropped from a great height, chemistry flashcards held above his head like he was trying to burn the knowledge into his retinas.

"Is it February?" Sam asked suddenly.

Oscar blinked. "Yeah. It's the sixth."

"Oh. Happy February."

Harper let out a tired breath of a laugh. "Valentine's Day soon. You got a crush on anyone, Sammy?"

"Nah," he muttered. "Fuck love."

"Romantic," she said, eyebrows raised.

Oscar snorted. "That's our Sam."

"Better than what I said last year," Sam mumbled. "Told Miss Patel I hoped she got some on Valentine's and nearly got kicked out of school."

Harper snorted. "Jesus."

Oscar chuckled. "Still remember the look on her face."

"Yeah, well. You try doing triple science with raging hormones and Miss Patel reading Of Mice and Men in that voice."

"She's literally almost fifty."

"Doesn't matter," Sam muttered. "Voice like silk. Made me believe in the American Dream."

Harper groaned and flopped backwards. "I hate this room."

"You're in here more than your own."

"No I'm not." She argued.

Sam pointed a crisp at her. "You've basically moved in."

"I have not."

"You have a toothbrush in our bathroom."

Harper looked mildly indignant. "So? Doesn't mean I live here."

"You've got socks in Oscar's drawer."

"I have socks in lots of places."

Oscar smirked, eyes still on his notebook. "Do you?"

"Shut up."

Harper shifted slightly, wincing as she adjusted the waistband of her skirt. It was new — a size bigger than her old one, but it didn't feel like it. Everything felt tighter lately. Her jumper was clinging weirdly at the chest too. She tugged it forward and stared down at the buttons on her shirt.

"My boobs are massive," she muttered.

Oscar looked up. Then down. Then immediately went bright red. "No comment."

"Pervert."

"I didn't say anything!"

"You didn't have to." She narrowed her eyes at him.

Sam made a strangled noise. "Please. I'm trying to focus. I cannot be thinking about Harper's tits right now."

"Fuck you!" Harper shrieked. She grabbed one of Oscar's pillows and hurled it across the room. It hit Sam square in the face.

"Assault!" he yelped, throwing his arms up dramatically. "I've been attacked in my own home."

Oscar snorted, folding his notes shut. "You're lucky that's all she threw."

"You're both annoying," Harper muttered, trying not to smile.

Sam peeked at her from behind the pillow. "You alright though? You've been making that... face."

"What face?"

"The 'everything hurts and I hate everyone' face."

Harper made a face. "That's just my face."

Oscar glanced over at her, more seriously now. "Anything feel off?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm just... heavy. Tired. I don't know. Apparently the baby's the size of a raspberry this week."

Sam perked up. "You're growing fruit in there?"

"Metaphorical, you idiot."

Oscar leaned over and brushed a bit of lint off her shoulder. "You want to lie down?"

"I'm alright." She smiled, faintly. "I like sitting and pretending to revise with you two."

"Oi," Sam said, wounded. "I'm absorbing this information with sheer force of will."

"You're absorbing crisps. That's it."

Oscar gave a low laugh, then glanced at Harper. "Remember, my mum's coming this weekend."

Harper looked up. "Right. Yeah. I know."

She went still for a second — just a flicker, like something locking up behind her eyes — then flipped a page in her workbook, trying to look casual about it. But her voice had gone a little too careful.

Oscar noticed. Of course he did.

"She really wants to meet you," he said, softer now. "She's been asking since... well, since last September when we started going out. I know you've spoken to her on FaceTime but it's not, like, the same, is it."

Harper gave a small, lopsided smile. "She's not fuming, then?"

"What?" He looked genuinely confused.

"Osc." She sighed. Gave him a look. "About the baby. About the fact that I might be ruining your life?"

Oscar dropped his pen and sat up straighter, frowning. "Harps. You're not ruining anything."

Sam chimed in from his bed. "Nicole's literally a saint. She's lovely."

"She's not mad." Oscar said quietly. Leaned in and touched Harper's lips with his thumb, like he was trying to physically wipe the frown off of her face. "She was... shocked, at first. But she's doing better with it now. She's been knitting."

Harper blinked. "She knits?"

"Badly."

"I'm scared," Harper admitted, very quietly. "Like... really scared. What if she hates me?"

Oscar leaned forward, nudging her foot with his. "She won't. I promise. My mum's not like that. She already calls you 'little love' in texts."

Harper let out a shaky laugh. "Does she?"

"Yeah. Wants to take you out for tea. Thinks you need feeding up."

"I agree," Sam muttered. "She's had half a KitKat and one of my crisps."

"I'm nervous," Harper said, then glanced at Oscar. "Not about her being mean. Just... I want her to like me. She's your mum."

Oscar smiled gently. "She will."

"I'm not used to nice mums." She whispered.

He leaned in. Kissed her softly. "I'm sorry."

Sam gagged. "Can you two fucking stop? I'm trying to eat."

—

The gravel drive outside the school crunched under the tyres of a silver Volvo as it rolled to a stop near the visitor bays.

Oscar spotted it first from the common room window. "She's here."

Harper immediately stood up, then sat back down. "Okay. I feel sick."

Sam didn't look up from his flashcards. "Don't puke on her. First impressions and all that."

Oscar gave her hand a squeeze. "She's excited. Honestly, she keeps texting me pictures of tiny socks."

"I don't know how to talk to mums," Harper muttered. "Mine doesn't count for obvious reasons."

"You've FaceTimed with her."

"FaceTime is different. That's like... TV. This is real life. What if she doesn't like me in real life?"

Oscar stood and tugged gently at her sleeve. "Come on. You'll be fine. She's got biscuits."

"...what kind?"

"Don't know. Probably the ones she always buys that no one actually likes but we all pretend we do because they're posh."

Harper followed him out across the courtyard, heart rattling inside her chest like a loose marble. It was cold — the kind of sharp, bright February cold that made your breath cloud up instantly. Her school coat was unzipped and flapping around her knees. She hadn't even checked her hair. Christ.

Nicole stepped out of the car wearing a giant woollen scarf and sunglasses too big for her face, carrying a tote bag that looked like it had seen every grocery store in Hertfordshire. She was taller than Harper expected — tall in that mum way, where it was all good posture and sensible boots. Her hair was curly and dyed dark at the roots with stubborn greys she hadn't bothered to cover. And she had the exact same laugh as Oscar, Harper realised — loud and too delighted.

"There's my boy," Nicole said, pulling Oscar into a proper, swaying hug that lifted him slightly off the ground. "God, look at your hair. Have you been brushing it with a fork?"

Oscar muffled something into her shoulder, cheeks pink. "Mum."

"And you must be Harper."

Harper froze for a split second — then managed a small smile. "Hi."

Nicole took one look at her and pulled her straight into a hug.

Warm. Solid. Smelling of fabric softener and mint gum.

It knocked the air right out of her.

"I feel like I already know you," Nicole said when she pulled back. "You're even prettier in person. Not that you aren't gorgeous on FaceTime. But I always think those calls make everyone look like they've been filmed on a potato."

Harper blinked. "Oh. Um. Thanks?"

"I brought biscuits," Nicole added, digging around in her tote. "And a scarf. You don't own a decent one, apparently."

She held it out — it was knitted. Badly. Yellow and lumpy and soft.

Harper stared at it. Then at her. "You made this?"

"Well, I had help. There's a very patient woman on YouTube called Marion who saved my life." She grinned. "Go on, take it. It's hideous but it'll keep you warm."

Harper took the scarf. Her fingers tingled. It was the first homemade thing anyone had ever given her.

"Thanks," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Nicole just smiled and tucked a stray curl behind Harper's ear like it was the most natural thing in the world. "You doing alright, love?"

Harper nodded. She wasn't, really. Not completely. But for the first time in weeks, the knot in her chest eased just slightly.

Oscar slipped his hand into hers. "Told you," he murmured.

And Harper — still clutching the scarf, still blinking like she wasn't sure what just happened — smiled. "Yeah," she whispered back. "You did."

—

The library windows were sweating — misted over from the inside, the radiator below doing its very best to boil Harper's ankles.

She sat cross-legged on the floor between the Philosophy and Biology sections, highlighters scattered across her lap, a mechanical pencil in her hair like a knitting needle. Her bump — barely visible unless you were looking for it — had finally made zipping up her skirt an Olympic event. She'd given up and worn leggings today, after Oscar talked her out of rage-quitting school entirely at 8:07 that morning.

Oscar was lying beside her, flipping through flashcards with the glazed look of someone being slowly crushed by the weight of the AQA specification.

"So," he said, tapping one against her knee. "Harper Whiatt. Mother of child. Knows what meiosis is. Who knew?"

"Shut up."

"Proud of you."

"You're not even revising that subject."

"Still proud."

She rolled her eyes. "You're annoying."

"Admit it," he said, leaning his head against her shoulder. "You'd miss me if I died in the corridor during your chemistry mock."

She snorted. "Only because you're the one who carries all my pens."

A few steps away, Sam sat at a table doing absolutely no work whatsoever. He had one wired earbud in, a can of Monster open, and a singular page of notes he'd spent forty-five minutes underlining in different colours.

"Oi," he said suddenly. "Osc. Your mum messaged me on Facebook earlier."

Harper looked up. "She what?"

"She sent me a meme of a baby wearing sunglasses and a fake moustache. Told me to show you. Said you'd been ignoring her messages again."

Oscar groaned. "She's unbelievable."

Harper glanced at him. "You're ignoring her messages?" She asked.

"Only the annoying ones." He winced.

There was a pause. It started to rain outside.

Harper let out a breath and pressed a hand lightly to her belly, almost without thinking.

Oscar watched her.

"You okay?" He asked softly.

She nodded. "Just... feel a bit sick. And I'm thinking."

"About?"

"Mock exams. Labour. Stretch marks. My mum. My future. What I want to do with my life."

He reached over and squeezed her knee. "I'll fail chemistry with you, if it helps."

She smiled faintly. "That's nice of you."

"It is," he said. "We'll be dumb together."

Sam looked up from his Monster. "Can't wait for the baby shower. Gonna bring a banner that says 'Congratulations on your accidental offspring.'"

"I'm not having a baby shower," Harper muttered, cheeks pink.

Sam grinned. "Tell Jane that."

Oscar groaned. "God, don't let Jane plan any kind of party. Please. Not after the last time."

Somewhere behind them, Miss Patel coughed loudly and glared.

They lowered their voices after that.

Sort of.

—

The waiting room smelled like antiseptic and lemon floor cleaner. The chairs were plastic and uncomfortable. The kind of place where the ceiling tiles always looked slightly damp and the magazines were six months out of date.

Harper sat with her coat bunched up around her, school uniform replaced by a pair of leggings and one of Oscar's hoodies. Her hands were clasped tight in her lap. She hadn't spoken much in the car.

Oscar sat next to her, elbows on his knees, trainers scuffed from too many track walks. He kept glancing at the wall-mounted TV, where an animated diagram of a growing foetus looped every five minutes.

Chris was across from them, flicking through the appointment letter on his phone again, as if it might change.

"You alright?" Oscar asked, his voice quiet.

Harper nodded without looking at him. "Yeah."

"You don't have to be brave."

"I know." She paused. "I'm scared."

He leaned over, shoulder bumping hers. "Me too."

The door opened. A midwife popped her head around. "Harper Whiatt?"

Harper stood, legs stiff. Oscar got up with her.

The midwife smiled warmly. "You can both come in. You're her... partner?"

Oscar flushed. "Um. Yeah."

Chris made a small movement to stand but Harper looked back. "Can you wait here?"

He hesitated, then nodded. "Course, kid. Whatever you prefer."

Inside, the room was small but warm. The ultrasound machine beeped quietly. A little cot of sterile supplies sat in the corner. It was more clinical than cosy.

"Alright, pop yourself up there," she said gently, gesturing to the bed.

Harper lay back, pulling her top up and the waistband of her leggings down just enough to expose her bump. She could feel Oscar's eyes on her — not gawking, just wide. Soft.

"This'll be a little cold," she warned, squeezing the gel onto Harper's belly.

Harper flinched. "Yup. Still gross."

The midwife smiled. "Won't last long. Let's see if this little one's cooperating today..."

She moved the probe over Harper's stomach, eyes fixed on the monitor. For a moment there was just static and shadows, and then — there it was. The unmistakable curve of a head. A little nose. Limbs.

Harper blinked.

Oscar made a sound like he'd just been punched in the chest. "Holy shit."

"Language," the midwife said mildly.

"Sorry. Just—" He reached for Harper's hand, gripped it. "That's... that's an actual baby."

She nodded slowly, her throat tight. "It is."

"Everything's measuring just right," the midwife said. "Spine's looking good. Heartbeat's strong. Want to hear it?"

Harper nodded.

The sound filled the room like drums underwater — a galloping, fast rhythm that didn't feel real.

Oscar was squeezing her hand hard.

She turned her head slightly to look at him. He looked stunned. Teary. And smiling.

The midwife chuckled. "That's the usual reaction."

They finished the scan. She wiped off the gel. Harper sat up, dazed. The midwife printed a few black-and-white images and handed them over.

"Here's your baby," she said softly. "You're around 18 weeks and five days, give or take. You'll be starting to feel more movement soon; those flutters you're feeling? That's your baby."

Harper stared at the picture. The tiny hand. The shape of a face that she somehow already recognised.

"Do you want to know the sex?" The midwife asked. "I can tell you now."

They glanced at each other. Harper opened her mouth, then closed it.

"Not yet," she said finally. "I don't want it to be... no. Just — not yet."

The midwife nodded, as if she understood exactly what she meant. "Alright. We'll leave it a surprise then."

When they left the room, Oscar still had the photo clutched between his fingers like it might disappear if he let go.

Chris stood. "How'd it go?"

Harper handed him one of the pictures.

His expression softened in a way she wasn't used to seeing. "Wow," he said quietly. "That's a baby."

She smiled faintly. "It is."

Chris handed the photo back and opened the car door for her. For once, she didn't protest.

Oscar waited until they were pulling out of the hospital car park to whisper, "I can't believe it, Harp." He said, his finger touching the baby's head on the photo. "I can't — It's so real."

"Yeah." She whispered. She pressed close to him and stared at the picture too.

—

The karting circuit smelled like oil, petrol and old toast — someone had clearly burned something in the staff kitchenette again. Engines buzzed constantly in the background, a low, waspish hum that made Harper's teeth itch.

She was sat on a plastic folding chair just behind the pit barrier, wrapped in hoodie and the scarf Nicole had made for her. Her coat was slung over the back of the chair, long forgotten. It had been cold when they'd arrived, but the sun was out now — faint, watery, but warm enough that she'd started to regret the extra layers.

Oscar had been out on track for nearly an hour. Mark stood nearby with a stopwatch, watching his lines, only occasionally muttering into the walkie-talkie clipped to his jacket.

It was oddly peaceful, in a sensory-overload sort of way. The scent, the noise, the blur of Oscar's kart skimming the corners — all of it had become familiar, almost comforting. Harper liked watching him like this. He looked free out there. Focused.

She shifted slightly in her seat, one hand dropping to rest on the small swell of her stomach. She wasn't huge yet — barely showing in a coat, but it was obvious now in anything fitted. She'd ordered a new school skirt again.

She yawned, stretching a little, fingers absently rubbing across her bump.

And then — something.

Not gas. Not indigestion. Not a cramp.

Something fluttered, just under her palm. Light and strange and soft — like a goldfish brushing against her from the inside. She froze.

There it was again. A nudge, low and quick. Almost like... a hello.

Her breath caught. She stared down at her belly.

Oscar zipped past again — then pulled into the pit lane, helmet tucked under one arm, flushed from the cold and the speed. He'd spotted her smile before he even reached her.

"What?" He asked, dropping down in front of her, a little breathless. "What's that face?"

She blinked at him. Then her hand moved instinctively back to her stomach.

"I think..." she said, eyes wide, voice soft with disbelief, "I think it just moved."

Oscar's eyebrows shot up. "What, really?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Like... it was tiny. Like someone flicked me from the inside. It was weird."

His grin was immediate and ridiculous. "That's so cool."

Harper laughed, still a bit stunned. "It's a bit freaky, actually."

"Freaky in a good way?"

"I dunno. I'll tell you when it does it again."

He reached up, gently pressing his hand beside hers. "That's insane," he whispered, like the baby might hear him.

Harper leaned forward. "It feels like there's an alien inside me, Osc."

He snickered. "Alien invasion?"

"Yeah." She giggled. It was ridiculous, but it was true.

Nearby, Mark pretended not to be eavesdropping. But Harper saw the way he smiled slightly to himself before turning back to his stopwatch.

NEXT CHAPTER

[sl-ut]

the bottom

PART ONE | the line

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

description: joel’s new in jackson and tries to take his younger brother’s advice to fit in; keep your head low and work hard. however, while settling into his routine, he does exactly the opposite.

warnings: takes place between season one and two, unspecified age gap (joel is canon age/reader is mentioned to be mid-20s in beginning but the exact amount of time that’s passed is left to the imagination), reader has hair long enough to be braided, reader is a dv survivor, crazy exes, swearing, drinking, slight grumpy x sunshine but reader has layers she’s not just happy all the time, not a whole lot of joel x reader this chapter but it’s coming i swear.

words: 2.4K

date posted: 5/5/25

series masterlist | next part

Joel truly could not have asked for a better deal. He and Ellie were safe within the walls of Jackson, the Fireflies were gone and he’d made sure there was no one left in the hospital to follow them back, he’d found his brother after years apart, and he could finally sleep easy at night. He no longer had to worry about rolling onto his left side throughout the night (though, it was still a habit he’d failed to break when he settled out of survival mode), and he could actually prove to be useful to the community, something he hadn’t exactly shown much of in the past twenty-odd years aside from using brute force. Patrols kept him active, allowing him to maintain at least some of those survival instincts he’d relied on for so long, but it was the internal efforts that he surprisingly enjoyed the most. Plus, Tommy’s advice had seemed easy enough to follow; lay low and work hard. These people are welcoming, but you’ll still have to earn their respect. 

Tommy and a few other men had already been in the process of reinforcing the walls around Jackson when he and Ellie had returned from Salt Lake, and it seemed that they’d been in the process of figuring out some other larger renovations around the city that Tommy had yet to get around to. But now that they had a spare contractor, Joel was able to take over a few projects at a time and the city was being fixed up at twice the pace that they had initially expected and earning Joel that respect quicker than he’d hoped.

Laying low had been pretty easy, too. Joel had earned their respect, sure, but he’d also rather stick to himself whenever he could. He went to work every morning, was friendly enough with the others–but made sure to upkeep his reputation as the town’s resident grump, and spend his evenings either with Ellie, Tommy, or on his own. In the first three weeks since they’d arrived there, he’d made no effort to interact with many of the others outside of work or to trade and only learned the names of no more than two dozen people. 

Maria had finally taken a stand against this, insisting that Tommy and Joel each take the day off of their jobs so that Tommy could show his older brother around the city and properly introduce him to everyone. They’d made their rounds, bringing a list of errands made up by Maria to force them to go into a few places and interact with others, and Joel had been pleasantly surprised that he didn’t absolutely hate all of them–just a handful. 

“See, I told you that you’d get along just fine. Doesn’t matter who they were before they came inside these walls, they got two options; play by our rules or get the fuck out.” Tommy told him as they exited the bakery, each carrying a large brown paper bag in their hands with a selection of baked goods, “These are good people who live here–well, most of ‘em anyway. You gotta be shittin’ me.”

Tommy veered off to the right, headed down a side street at a quick pace. Joel followed behind, brow furrowed as he followed close behind, “Tommy, wha–”

“Hey Elias,” he called out, catching the attention of a tall, wiry man, his shoulder-length hair tied back in a bun at the base of his skull and body holding a slight tremor under the layers of clothing he wore; it all seemed to be nicer than what most wore, leading Joel to assume that he was some sort of higher-up around the place (despite the fact that Jackson had been built on the prospect of communism), “You need something in there, man? Thought you were supposed to be in the clinic today.”

The man turned and glared at Tommy, jaw set as if he had already been expecting the confrontation. He placed his hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes at the pair of brothers as he shifted one hand to point towards one of the buildings just off of the main street, “That’s my wife in there, Tommy. I’m sick and tired of you people telling me where I can and can’t go around here. It’s none of your goddamn business.”

Tommy rolled his own eyes, “Is she, though? Last I recall, she doesn’t wanna be married to you anymore. So if you’re going in there just to bug her after she, Maria, and myself have told you to stay away, I think it is my business.”

“I’m not fuckin’ buggin’ her, Tommy,” the man sneered, closing the distance between them to shove his finger into his face, “you stop me from goin’ to my fuckin’ house, schedulin’ me on these godawful shifts in the fuckin’ clinic, who the fuck do you think you are?”

Tommy turned his face away in disgust, “Yeah, from the stink of you it would seem you’ve been workin’ hard all day, huh? C’mon man, you smell like you’ve been bathing in booze. Let’s not make a scene here, make it easier on all of us.”

“Yeah, and what are you gonna do about it?” He turned his gaze down and spat at Tommy’s feet, “thought we were all a bunch of commies now, huh? All of us being equals and whatnot?”

“We’re all equal until one of us lays hands on their wife, Elias. You know that.”

Joel felt a surge of rage through him at this. Initially, he thought that the man had just been a drunk who’d skipped out of work to come and beg for his wife to come back to him, but now there was no denying the fact that the man was nothing more than a dirtbag wife beater. Truthfully, Joel was mostly shocked due to the fact that Tommy would even allow someone like him to even continue staying there. He couldn’t even count the amount of times that Tommy had gotten in trouble for picking a fight with men who even looked at women the wrong way; he could hardly imagine his brother having any sympathy towards a man who actually beat his wife, even if the punishment was an inadvertent death sentence by exiling him from the city. 

“It was none of your fuckin’ business to begin with. If that bitch hadn’t been running around on me then–”

“You and I both know that’s not true, man. She’s a good woman, and she’s made a whole lotta progress since she finally smartened up and left your ass.”

The man curled his lip in anger, but seemed to be backing down from the challenge, “Fuck this. That whore ain’t even worth it.”

He bumped both Tommy and Joel’s shoulders on his way past, but neither of the brothers made an effort to fight back against him, simply just glad that he had willingly left without forcing them to make a scene. Tommy stayed in his place for a moment, hands falling to his hips as he shook his head, finally turning back to his brother with an exasperated yet slightly sheepish expression.

“Do me a favour and keep this between you and me. Others know they’re split up but most don’t know why. I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Joel scoffed, “You’re tellin’ me you’ve got good people here, and yet you’re harbourin’ a man who beats his wife.”

“Ex-wife,” Tommy corrected, “And it’s not like that. She left him, begged us to let him stay so long as he left her alone.” 

“I don’t know what sounds more fuckin’ stupid, that she wanted him to stay, or that you let him.”

Tommy shook his head, “It’s not just up to me. We’ve got a council, and unless I told ‘em exactly what happened, they’re not willing to give the boot to anyone for just bein’ an asshole, especially when he’s the only fuckin’ doctor we have.”

“Anyone can take the first aid training, Tommy.”

“No, Joel, he’s a surgeon. He was a resident before shit went south, and there’s been a few times where things woulda cost us a lot of good people if it weren’t for him. I can tell you right now that if she came clean about what he–” Tommy paused, taking a short breath to better compose himself, “We’d have a majority vote, and she knows that. If I had it my way, I wouldn’t have let him go that night.”

He watched his brother closely; his teeth gritted together, brow furrowed, and eyes wide and glassy. Tommy had clearly been affected by what had transpired between that man–Elias and his wife, so much that he couldn’t even seem to think about it without losing it. Joel grunted in response, nodding his head slowly. 

He couldn’t decide if he would have done the same thing in that situation, but then he thought back to Tommy’s words, I wouldn’t have let him go that night. Tommy had had his own hands on him, probably ready to kill him. Something about the situation made him sober up through the rage and make the decision to let the man go, to let him live. Joel knew he would not have had the same restraint if it had been him instead. 

Over the next few days, he repeatedly cursed himself for not demanding that his brother tell him the woman’s name. He spent the days that followed in a state of constant discomfort, always glancing over his shoulder in public to watch for Elias around town, taking note of where he went, who he spoke to, and to what anyone had to say about him. He’d begun taking on a leadership role around town, people flocked to him for help, following his orders on patrols, and looked to him for answers. He wasn’t the one to make those decisions on his own–hell, his opinions did nothing but occasionally influence the council, but people seemed to trust that he had the town’s best interest at heart. 

He’d been an official patrol captain for all of a week when Tommy met him in the stable early one morning, helping a young woman saddle up a dark chestnut coloured horse. She was bundled up in a thick wool sweater under a long green raincoat and a navy baseball cap over her neatly braided hair, ready to face whatever chill and rain early spring weather would throw their way. 

“Mornin’ old man,” Tommy grinned, turning to nod at the woman next to him, introducing her to his brother, “she’s gonna be joining you on patrol. You know this route by heart now, and she’s only been out a handful of times.”

Joel turned his gaze back over to her, taking in her features. He’d seen her around town before; she seemed to have taken on a new job every day and he could never anticipate when or where he might spot her. They had exchanged smiles and polite greetings as they passed by, just as everyone else did, though they had yet to interact any further. She was the kind of pretty that made him often struggle to pull his gaze away when he spotted her in a crowd, but she was also just young enough that made him feel guilty for it. She couldn’t be any older than her mid-twenties, but like everyone in Jackson, she looked like she had seen her fair share of loss and hardship. 

“Hi,” the woman beamed, holding her hand out to him eagerly, “I may be a rookie but I’m a pretty good shot so I think that makes up for it.” 

Joel shook her hand gingerly, “Yeah, hopefully you won’t gotta put that to use. This route’s usually pretty clear of infected.”

“Great,” she nodded, “because I was lying. I’m just okay.”

Joel scoffed, glancing over at his brother who seemed unfazed by the woman’s behaviour but amused at Joel’s reaction. She was exactly the type of person that Joel worked to avoid; far too peppy and a tendency to ramble. From the moment that they had mounted their horses until the moment that they returned from patrol almost three hours later, she hardly let more than a few moments of silence pass before she would be asking a dozen more questions. But for some odd reason, Joel didn’t hate it as much as he thought he would. 

It was sort of nice to have someone actually ask him about his day to day life without pressing too much into his past. He liked that she didn’t feel privy to his life before Jackson aside from asking where he was from and where he lived before Jackson. At some points, he was reminded of Ellie when they were travelling across the country in the way that she was able to come up with and ask such random questions off the top of his head, but it made patrol go by much faster than it usually did. And after, when she strutted off in the direction of the meal hall, he felt a flicker of regret for rejecting her invitation to join her. 

He felt an almost instantaneous connection to the younger woman, but he could not help but notice the line in the sand between developing feelings for the world and feeling like a disgusting older man preying on a younger woman; the line between denying himself of what could lead to happiness he hadn’t felt in decades and throwing himself head first into it. She was kind when she spoke to him, but Joel was not the sort of man to mistake kindness for flirting, but there was some sort of familiarity in her eyes when they met with his own–an understanding, leading to that already thin line growing even thinner. 

But what he hadn’t known at the time was that the moment they had set out on patrol that morning, he had started that dangerous walk along that narrow line, completely unsure of what side he was going to end up on.

[madamechrissy]

Would you come with me?

Miniseries MASTERLIST

Part One -Part Two - Part Three (finished)

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x F! reader

Summary: You have been Satoru's best friend for such a long time, and one day he asks you a really big favor- marry him. What!?!? Well, Satoru has to take a wife as he's running the Gojo corporation, and what better way to get them off his back than 'marry'? In name only, just best friends living together for a year to calm them down, sounds so perfect and uncomplicated, right!!! Well, living with Satoru Gojo makes you both question everything, is this fake marriage feeling... real? and can you just be friends after this?

CW: NSFT-MDNI- Going to have smut at the end (three parts!) lots of sexual tension, light angst but mostly fluffy, friends to lovers AND marriage of convenience trope lol. Explicit sex, oral sex, it's me so a breed kink, gonna be a miniseries, Satoru is a lil sweetie and a lil freaky ass- falls hard, ya'll both down bad.

WC- 22 k- completed

Preview- click above for the chapters!

“You love me, right?”

You blink a bit, as you stare at Satoru Gojo, he’s been your best friend all throughout high school and even before you’ve known him. You’re sitting across from him, while he’s sipping boba with you, his Gucci shades perched on the bridge of that straight nose, a smirk on his glossy lips. You tilt your head curiously at him, of course you love Satoru, but he only pulls this when he needs a favor.

“What’d you get into this time, Toru?” You demand, he gasps then, affronted, a hand to his chest.

“Excuse me, missy? I’m just asking if you love me.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your seat in the little cafe. “Of course, you know I love your goofy ass.”

Satoru takes off his glasses, those swirling blue eyes wrecking you as they have all these years, usually you can put up enough of a barrier not to let them consume you, but apparently you haven’t today. You watch those snowy lashes lower when his eyes bore into you, swirling storms of bright blue, you have to snap yourself out of it.

Being Satoru Gojo’s best friend wasn’t for the weak.

“How much you love me, hmm?”

“What is it you need, an alibi?” He snorts then, shaking his head and wrapping his lips around the straw.

“M’not Suguru, shit… no, I need a really big favor. Like… the biggest favor, but if you agree, I can really make it worth your while.”

“Okay this isn’t a mobster movie, Toru, what is it?” Satoru looks down then, long fingers swirling around the top of his cup, before his eyes snap back to yours.

“What if I said I’d help you with all that student loan debt, and buy you a shiny brand new car?”

“I don’t want your money, I do fine okay?”

“Your car is old enough to drink.”

“Fuck off!” Your glare makes him snort in laughter. “It is not, it’s like… not even old enough to vote… I don’t think.”

“It’s old, sweets. Say you also had a place to stay, for free?”

“Satoru this isn’t Pretty Woman-”

“I love that movie!”

“Satoru! What are you getting at!?” You’re crossing your arms then, raising a brow at the lanky man across from you, whose legs are spread wide in his dark blue dress pants, he’s pulling just a bit at his silky black tie.

Satoru has taken a huge role recently in his family business, the conglomerate that owned a million different things, you know how much he detests it, but once Satoru graduated college his family pushed it more and more. At this point he was thriving, doing most of the work with his father taking much more of a back seat, his health starting to deteriorate.

You and Gojo spend more time together than ever, you know he needs his friend, especially with Suguru having left for some time, the two of them not together was always hard on him. You’d been friends with both of them, but Suguru seems to have left and found his own calling, swinging through to see you both from time to time, but much is different since those days at Tokyo high.

Not you and Satoru though.

For the longest time you pined away for him, but you never made that move, aside from one stolen kiss in a closet during seven minutes in heaven, and Satoru had it bad for you all of Junior and Senior year, but the two of you never risked it, your friendship. And now you’re glad to have him in your life, but it’s hard to even think of someone serious when he’s so brightly and firmly in your life.

“This is a huge favor I need, it’s… a lot to ask.” Satoru murmurs softly, you tense a bit, brows drawing together.

“What’s wrong, is everything okay?” Your voice is a low hum as you murmur, he nods just a bit.

“Yeah it’s fine just… I’m being forced to choose a bride, and they have many candidates.” He laughs humorlessly, and your heart breaks for him.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Satoru. I thought you’d have longer?”

“Yeah, I wish.” He runs a hand through his silky white locks, looking down for a moment, lips that always smirk or maybe pout actually frowning. “I need to just get it done, get em off my ass.”

“That doesn’t sound like you, why not tell em to fuck themselves, hmm? Where’s my Toru!?”

“He’s exhausted.” He swipes a hand across his face, and you lean closer, hand on his leg, his eyes sliding back to yours.

“Do you want me to help find someone? I have a lot of good friends in high families… find you someone not money hungry, not a psycho? How much time do you even have?”

“That’s not what I'm asking.” He puts his big hand over yours now, sighing, leaning closer to you. “I’m asking if you want to.”

“If I want to, what exactly?”

“Marry me?”

“What!?” He chuckles then, but even that sound is exhausted.

“You forget you’re from a top family, nah it’s not the Gojo clan but…”

“Satoru…”

“Just for like a bit? To get em to leave me alone, let me gain some more power. All for show, and I’ll help you with anything, I promise.” He’s clutching your hand, and suddenly the room feels like it’s spinning.

“Wh-why me? We… you… I…”

“You’re my best friend, it would be like being roommates damn near. You could… do your thing as long as you’re discrete.” He murmurs, you want to laugh then, as if you’ve done anything in a couple of years now. “And I would be discrete, respectful, we’d just be in name, appearance. We’re best friends, it will be a piece of cake, and most of all… I trust you.”

You try to digest all the information, blinking and trying not to think the insane thoughts that come with it, but you fail. “But won’t they want… an heir?”

Satoru’s cheeks flush bright pink now. “We don’t need to… I’d never ask you to do that, ever I swear. I’d never be an ass like that.”

You feel your heart racing as you shove back all of the images you should not have for your friend. “I know, I know. But… they’d-”

“That’s the thing, a year or so and they’ll back off. Give me time to fix some mistakes, with dad being sick… I’m not saying I won’t miss him, but how he is running shit? No, I know I can make things better, take down these shitty higher ups who are so greedy. You just could give me more time, and I promise I’ll do anything I can to help you too.”

“It’s insane, this is marriage!” You blink a bit, shifting, his hand now brushing back a lock of hair from your forehead, a familiar gesture that now takes on something more intimate.

“It can just be for show, we’ll be the same best friends as always. I have no one I can imagine even living with but you, maybe Suguru but… he’s not a girl.”

“He has that long silky hair?” You both laugh a little, softly then.

“He sure does, but… you’re prettier to look at.”

“Flattery? Stop that. It’s insane, and… how would we even explain it in such a rush?”

“We’ve been friends forever. Who wouldn’t believe that we got together? It’s even easier. I mean, maybe a couple kisses and things for show, but… you’ve kissed me before, remember?” He’s grinning wide then, you shove at him playfully. “That closet was cramped, hmm?”

“Oh shut it, that was so long ago. I mean, if you really need me, you know I’ll do this for you. I don’t expect you to go all out on anything for me in return.” Satoru pauses now, watching how the light streaming in through the large cafe windows hits your pretty face, as you explain to him that you’d want nothing in return for this!? For this huge imposition on your life.

You have always been the sweetest, best friend he has had, so important to him he’s never dared to cross that line, and he knows it will tempt him to no end to do this, but he also knows he can trust you. “Let me just take care of a few things for you, you can almost see it as a job. There will be events, meetings with the other leaders, trust me. Like anything I can do, you’ll be helping me so much.”

“Alright.”

“What!?”

He’s hugging you tightly to him, you giggle a bit, breathless. “Yeah, I’ll do it… I need a nice car though, Toru. A BMW?”

“I’ll get you ten BMWs.”

“Jesus, no. Silly boy.” You giggle as you look up at him, your best friend, but then your heart falters when he’s just a bit too close.

“Should we practice kissing now?” He teases, voice husky.

“Satoru, you're insufferable.”

He pouts now, and you swallow down the fact that you don’t know if you can even handle kissing his lips.

permatags: @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @indiewritesxoxo @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @makingtimemine @cuntphoric @loafteaw @aldebrana @n1vi @miizuzu @beachaddict48 gojo: @haruhatake @strychnynegirl @jinjen suggestion from the lovely @bunheadusa

Buy me a glass of wine🍷 - Gen Masterlist - ©All works by Madamechrissy you may not reproduce

[electricgg]

Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Chapter 6: I Stray Not From The Path, I Hold Death’s Hand In Mine

Masterlist Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 (Here!) / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 /

Head wounds tend to heal relatively fast. 

All due to the ample blood supply in the head and neck region. The abundant blood flow helps deliver the necessary cells for tissue repair and regeneration. The healing time can vary based on many factors, like wound size, depth, and individual health.

Large and deeper wounds potentially heal up to 2-3 months.

Maximoff’s wound didn’t even leave a scar or trace on her skin.

The butler, Alfred, had mentioned being of help to the young girl the first day until she claimed being able to take care of cleaning the wound and changing the gauze by herself once he explained the steps one by one. She would do it every morning after waking up and after taking her nightly shower, before heading to bed.

But even with a strict cleaning routine, a head wound like the one she had shouldn’t have healed so quickly. 

Especially in only 5 days.

“Someone certainly has some impressive genes…” Rio muttered offhandedly, pretending to be very busy with her files as she took a seat at her desk.

The looming glare from the girl sitting at the examination table had the green witch holding back her grin.

Everything was falling into place.

There was no reason for the girl to come for a check-up directly to the police station. Much less likely to get a check-up from Rio. The Wayne family had their private doctor and were way more capacitated than a nurse with basic paramedic training and a doctor title, mostly directed towards cadavers and autopsies.

Well, that was just her cover story. No need for mortals to know the personification of Death was playing dress up for funsies.

Either way, the only reason her Wheel of Fortune would be here, it would be if she had requested or demanded that she be brought to Rio herself.

She certainly caught on to things quickly, unlike her bothersome twin brother. Even if she had some otherworldly help, Rio had to give her some credit.

Which led to the current tension in the office that was currently occupied by the two of them. The butler was off talking with the chief about some new development in the investigation of the attack.

Red Hood had left almost nothing to identify the bodies with. Rio retained her bubbling anger by dumping the files into her hand on the desk with a controlled sigh.

Endless Above, the Waynes were a thorn on her ass.

Good thing her cards on the table were placed along quite fast.

“Where is Billy?”

She was straight to the point, too.

That wouldn’t do.

“Why would I know?” the woman drawled, spreading on her chair will looking at Maximoff with a raised eyebrow.

Maximoff’s face was all frowned up, the corner of her lips curling in frustration and impatience. Rio thought she looked like an angry puppy about to start yapping and barking at her feet while shaking. Almost like a chihuahua.

That made her laugh sharply, startling and confusing the young girl.

“Ask the right questions, pet. That may get you the answers you need.”

The shiver of disgust at the nickname amused Rio to know end. Getting under people’s skin was such an entertaining show for her.

“...Do you know who I am? What am I?”

Rio could work with that.

“I am familiar with your family’s history.”

The girl gave her a deadpan expression. “That’s the most vague shit answer I ever heard off.”

“Take it or leave it,” she shrugged.

With a roll of her eyes, Maximoff sighed and shrugged in defeat. Might as well ask other questions then, right?

“Fine, then. Who are you then? Because I’m pretty sure you know something that I don’t about the Addams Family on steroids.”

“Ah, the Waynes,” Rio’s tone was sarcastic and low. She got up and stood in front of Maximoff, who listened attentively.

“They have been messing around with things that they shouldn’t, and it’s time for them to pay me back.”

“...So, you are like, mafia or something?”

“Not quite. The mafia still manages to keep up with their parts of my deals.”

That got Maximoff thinking, her head tilting to the side as her gaze moved up to the ceiling in thought.

Yeah, she was just like a puppy. She could now see why Agatha was so entranced with the other Maximoff.

“So,” the girl said while her nails clicked fastly against the metal table. “the Waynes owe you something, and you have it out for them?”

“Seems almost too simple, right?” A grin crept on the witch’s lips. She could almost see the gears turning in the girl’s brain.

Maximoff groaned, scratching her cheek as she tried to piece stuff together.

“You told me to keep a ‘low profile and trust my gut’,” she complained in a higher pitch tone while gesturing around with her hands. “And all that I got from that was meeting a bunch of unstable men who don’t seem to grasp emotional intelligence to save their lives, and way too touchy. And that’s without counting the horror tapes from the poor girl whose body I’m possessing while her spirit-”

Her rambling had sped up halfway through, words turning into a tongue twister for any person listening. It was fascinating for Rio to witness how the girl’s mutation was developing without her even noticing, blending in with such normal things like talking or moving around, and making her stand out easily. But the abrupt stop put the room in a sudden silence.

By how wide her eyes were as she looked at her, Rio could easily guess Maximoff had figured something out.

She remained quiet, waiting for her to find the words.

Maximoff pointed at her, eyebrows furrowed,” You knew her? The Wayne girl?”

“We never spoke directly, but I did know her. And heard her.”

That wasn’t a lie.

“Then this whole owed deal it’s related to her? Or most of it, at least.”

Seeing how such a young being pieced together the bits of small information she had at hand was very pleasing to the witch. 

It had crossed her mind before. The thought of taking on an apprentice. It had crossed several times, and there were very few candidates she had considered worthy (with the very exception of Agatha, of course). 

Only one had been oh so close to be hers by sacred ritual. A deal made by a desperate mother, looking to protect her child from Rio’s own hands.

A child who was hidden from her by none other than Bruce Wayne.

The room’s temperature grew colder at the thought of said man crossing her head. He had cheated her over and over and over and over and over and she had had enough.

Rio took a deep breath through her nose, brushing away the bangs on her face to disguise her slip of control.

“I don’t like it when somebody messes with my deals,” she said with a sickly sweet tone, starting to pace around the room.

“Bruce Wayne and his flock of little birds have been getting away from me with a little too much for my liking. And because of that, I have decided to hit him where it hurts the most. A man like him craves control. He is paranoid and needs to know all the possibilities at the palm of his hand, just so he can have the high ground in any given situation.”

She sharply whips her head back, a loud crack of bones startling Maximoff as Rio gives her a maniacal, wide smile over her shoulder. Her sharp black nail pointed at the girl, sauntering towards the metal table.

“Which is why you, my dear wheel of fortune, make the perfect piece in my chessboard table to make him suffer.”

Maximoff looked at her as if she had spouted pure nonsense. Which it probably was for her, since Rio looked like a madwoman with a chaotic glint in her eyes.

“And why should I be involved in this? I didn’t exactly choose this body.”

“True. You didn’t. But your brother did.”

That made her click her mouth shut and glare harshly at Rio. The woman inclined forward so they were eye to eye, smiling with a sharp edge at the corner of her lips.

“It’s nothing hard to do, just being yourself is doing more than enough to make my plan fall right into place. I only need you to be a tiny little less instigating and let them overthink it by themselves. And, of course, a couple of little favors that only you can help me out with.”

“Are you going to kill them?” Her tone was somewhat small and quiet. Worried, as to say.

How sweet. But that wouldn’t do.

“Sadly, no, I can’t,” Rio took notice of the tension slightly leaving the girl’s shoulders. “The Waynes are vital to the balance of this city, and I can’t mess with that. But I can make them miserable. As retribution.”

Maximoff hummed to herself, never looking away from Rio’s gaze as she thought of what to say next. Their visit was coming to an end, and she needed to get her answers quickly. Or at least, some of those answers.

“What favors would you need?”

“Just some old items that the mother of this new body of yours has entrusted to Dear Old Bruce. And anything that spirit that keeps hanging around you asks you to do.” 

Maximoff gasped and looked around her before looking back at the amused ‘doctor’.

“You can see h-”

“Tick tock, pet. Last question.” That made her curse under her breath as she gave a quick glance at the door. Footsteps coming up the stairs were echoing outside the office. Maximoff looked at Rio with a reluctant air around her.

“If I do your favors,” she said quickly, standing up from the table and facing Rio directly. “Will you tell me where Billy is and help me find him?”

Rio laughed, crossing her arms as she took in her firm stance. Decision and steel in the girl’s eyes and posture.

Oh, she was keeping this Maximoff.

“Don’t you worry, pet.” She teased with a less sharp smile. Maximoff frowned.

“He will come directly to you.”

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

“Would that be all, gentlemen?” 

The sharp tone coming from Mr. Wayne had made the business associates look at one another in silence. The air was so tense in the meeting room that it made some of them fidget with their ties, swallow back coughs, and sweat beneath their hair implants.

A poor intern glanced nervously at his boss every 5 seconds, hoping the meeting would be dismissed sooner rather than later for the sake of everyone’s nerves.

Bruce Wayne had not come to Wayne Enterprises in a good mood.

The meeting had been scheduled with two months of anticipation. Worthington Industries had made several business proposals to ally with Wayne Enterprises in a series of funded research projects involving medical substances that have yet to be discussed. First, they had to do some research around said company, avoiding getting involved in any type of scandal before making any decisions. Then, they would weigh the pros and cons of agreeing to the proposals before deciding to come to an official meeting with the Worthington Industries CEO.

All the documents and research had been done thoroughly, and there were more pros than cons surrounding the proposals. Everyone was expecting a positive outcome from the meeting.

But Mr. Wayne’s mood had dampened any ray of hope.

As to why he was in such a mood?

That would have to do with breakfast that very morning with his daughter.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

It had been an uneventful morning. At first.

After Bruce had made sure Tim was sleeping in his own bed without any type of electronic nearby, and that Dick had gone to Barbara’s apartment to get some space to calm down for a bit away from the supposed chaos among the walls of the manor, he was eating his own plate of scrambled eggs that Alfred had made for him in the stove before he left to drive Damian to school.

Apparently, she had slept in for a bit longer, and Alfred would come for her once he had dropped Damian off.

He had gotten distracted by the sudden breakthrough of the case. By the time they finished downloading files from the hospitals and clinics around the area, Bruce was pretty sure everyone had retired for the night.

Meaning that this very morning, he would finally get to see his daughter after days of putting back the said encounter.

The feeling of patheticness loomed over him, making every bite of his food taste as bitter as his cup of black coffee.

He would never admit it to himself, but Bruce was anxious.

Would she be upset he hadn’t checked up on her? She was always so understanding and sweet. At least, that's what he had gathered from their past interactions. Perhaps he could let her stay at the manor another week if she wasn’t feeling like going back to school.

Was she scared of going out, too? He had read the police report over and over again after Dick had shoved it right into his face while yelling at him for not keeping a closer eye on her safety.

He could only imagine the feast the media would have once the information about the attack became public. The press following her around, the school getting swarmed, the flashes of camera invading her space, and making her have another public meltdown.

Maybe considering homeschooling wouldn’t be such a bad idea-

The scraping of a chair against the floor dragged him out of his head, gaze landing on the other end of the table. Far away from his spot.

She was wearing a green jacket and some dark bell-bottom jeans. A clean gauze stood on the left side of her head, which led to noticing how her hair was pulled back in what seemed like a butchered braid with some wavy curls slipping out and framing her face.

Not a single hello. Not a single good morning. Not a single glance his way.

Just the clicking of the fork against the plate as she ate from a huge pile of scrambled eggs as if she had been starved for weeks.

Bruce suddenly understood why the boys were freaking out.

(Y/N) was a simple, well-mannered, and polite. Always greeting, always offering help, and always looking for ways to be close to them. No matter how many times they avoided or ignored her efforts and advances.

If Bruce were by some chance eating at the table, she would take the spot right next to him and try to start a conversation before he excused himself under the guise of needing to finish some work.

And another thing was how impeccably she dressed. Business casual and hair down, not a single strand out of place.

Before him was the total opposite of what his daughter was supposed to be.

He cleared his throat, hoping to catch her attention since she was way too focused on her food.

She didn’t look up.

“Dear?” he questioned. “Do you feel alright?”

His breath got caught in his throat once her gaze snapped up. Making eye contact for the first time in days.

Before him stood the reflection of a woman he had failed to help and keep safe. Dark, soulful eyes staring deep into his own and making him fall back into that dreadful night, where he was too late to make a difference. Where a child lost a parent and gained a mediocre imitation of one. Where he lost another important person in his life. Where he failed a friend.

Where his daughter lost her mother.

“Quite late to be asking me that, don’t you think?” she grumbled, shoving her fork full of eggs into her mouth.

He had to take a quick sip of his coffee, feeling his throat tighten and trying to speak up at least.

“What happened to your contacts?” was all he managed to utter out. He would later realize that was not the best thing he could have said.

Those dark eyes were suddenly sharp, and Bruce could only see Bianca glaring at him as if she was ready to knock him off his seat.

“You sure you want to go down that line, Father?” 

The way that she said father had him standing up from his seat, knocking the chair down to the floor, and making a clutter of noises around the room.

“Young lady, that’s not a tone you will use with me.”

He had hoped that would make her back down. Go back to the sweet girl he swore she was, because there was no way that she had changed this much. Not in the blink of an eye.

Was it though? Had it been the blink of an eye? Had it really been that fast? When was the last time they actually talked? When was the last time he had spent more than a few minutes with her? 

Listened to her talk about school. About her classes. About her hobbies. Her aspirations in life. What she liked. What she disliked. Favorite foods. Favorite movies. Favorite books.

When was the last time Bruce had even hugged her?

His expectations were broken the moment she slammed her fork against the table and got up from her seat, gaze unwavering and lips pressed tight.

Before she could get another word out, two sudden presences caught their attention.

Cassandra stood by the entrance of the kitchen, with Alfred giving a heavy stare over at Bruce.

Without a second thought, the younger girl picked up her now-empty plate and gave it a quick wash in the sink. Ignoring the owlish stares from Cassandra and Bruce. Once she was done, she looked directly at Alfred with an undefined gaze from Bruce’s perspective.

“I’ll wait in the car.” She said, getting a nod from Alfred as she passed between him and Cass. The other girl gave two steps back as she followed her retreating form down the hall with her gaze.

Bruce began walking towards them. “We are not finished-”

“I believe,” Alfred cut him up both verbally and physically by stepping in front of him. “This is a good moment for everyone to have some space to think things through before escalating the situation in a way that there’s no coming back from.”

“Alfred, I need to-”

“You need to get to an important meeting and give her some space, Master Bruce.”

That got him a deep sigh from Bruce, who impatiently rubbed his chin before nodding at Alfred.

“Good. Now, if you excuse me, I can’t keep the young lady waiting.” With that, Alfred was gone.

Cassandra only looked back at Bruce once she was sure she heard the car pull away from the garage. He was looking at the empty chair where she had been sitting not too long ago. A look full of what Cass could gather as despair and confusion. It unsettled her a bit, seeing him like that.

But, she still said a few words to Bruce before walking away.

“That was on you.”

And Bruce knew she was more than right.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

His mind was stuck on that encounter all morning.

His child couldn’t have changed so drastically like that. Was it a new tactic to get his attention? Because it was working extremely well. But it didn’t make sense. His dear daughter was nothing but good intentions and wouldn’t even try to argue back with him. She didn’t even fight back with Damian, and most of the time, he had to intervene himself so it wouldn’t escalate (at least when he was present). 

That hit on the head had altered her personality, and Bruce wanted his old daughter back.

It had to be that damned wound, it couldn’t be anything else. There just wasn’t another expl-

‘But there is.’ A whisper shot through his head, making him tense up.

…There was a very small alternative. But it couldn’t be. It didn’t work like that at all. He knows it.

Even if mental illnesses can be hereditary, that one couldn’t be. There were too many factors that came into play with such a condition, and he had made sure she hadn’t been exposed to any type of heavy trauma. Keeping her at an arm’s length away from his night job and all the repercussions it brought along.

But had he actually protected her enough? Did keeping her away actually prevent any trauma that could affect her personality?

No, he hadn’t.

And now he had a huge problem in his hands.

“Call to organize a meeting with Mr. Worthington as quickly as possible for negotiations. Meeting dismissed.”

Almost everyone let out a breath of relief once Mr. Wayne walked out the door with a hurried step.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

It had been such a shitty day.

First part, finally meeting the man behind this whole family madness. She was hoping to get away without interaction. Just eat her breakfast, dip, and hide in the garage so she could avoid encountering any other member of the family until Alfred came to pick her up. It was a picture-perfect plan, in her mind at least.

But her first mistake had been sitting too far away from Dear Old Bruce. 

Apparently, this family was so obsessed with order and patterns, that they would have freak out if she even stepped out their imaginary drawn lines. Wayne had giving her a splitting headache as punishment for not putting that much attention to those details after she had stormed off towards the garage.

To which she responded by swinging fists at empty air before Alfred caught up to her.

‘Fuck their order and patterns. I ain’t their little doll they can manipulate around.’

That thought put her ghost companion in silence, making the headache slip away as they drove to the police station.

In the second part, the chilling interaction with Rio. Jesus, that woman could make the bogeyman sweat. She had hoped to get some answers out of her, and while she got some, she left with even more questions. And, apparently, got dragged into a messy deal with said crazy lady in order to get at least some information on where Billy was.

As long as she found the items that Rio claimed were owed to her.

Items, that she had not a fucking clue of what they were.

The only bit of information that she had was that the mother of this body (she really should start referring to the body as her own, it was getting annoying) knew about said items and their locations. Which meant that Wayne, her dear grumpy ghost bestie, would also know about these items since she would visit her mother every two weeks.

It had been served on a silver platter. All that she needed to do was ask Wayne!

But that silver platter had been thrown into the Bermuda Triangle when Wayne apologetically flicked the bathroom lights of the thrift store Alfred had taken her to give her boxes of clothes away in denial of knowing about said items.

All because her mother was in a state of delirium and mania. Meaning that any word coming from the poor woman wasn’t coherent or trustworthy.

Another dead end.

Which leads us to standing inside the record shop beside the thrift store. Gaze lost in deep thought, facing a rack of vinyl records of the pop genre, as her fingers flicked through the albums mindlessly with a frown on her face.

Just when she thought a door had opened, another ten appeared in the next room.

Rio wasn’t exactly someone reliable. Something in the back of her head was inclined to think she wasn’t even human. All the vague shit and weird mannerism seemed more than act to unsettle people. If it was an act, then she was very committed.

Still, she wasn’t to be trusted. Not when she was keeping her so in the dark.

The new information she had was still in pieces and needed to be put together with delicacy and patience, or something could slip, and she would end up even more lost than she already was.

That didn’t stop her from trying to overthink it.

‘If the deal had to do with Wayne, why would her Old Man not keep a closer eye on her? Rio is pretty hellbent on getting her stuff back if she is making me pull my weight around to find it. Does he even know her mother made a deal, or was he the one to make it? It wouldn’t make any sense if he did it, though, because then he wouldn’t have just left Wayne go around without some bodyguard.’

She pursed her lips, fingers rattling the record stand by how fast she continued to flip through them.

‘Hell, he never stopped by to check in the bedroom or even bother to pick her up at the police station. There’s no way he knows about this. He doesn’t care enough, clearly. What kind of a father acts like that around his daughter?’

Her nails began to scratch off the chipped black paint of the metal from the stand, switching her weight from leg to leg as her mind sped up in circles.

‘What parent does that? Where’s the warmth and care? Where’s the concern? Where’s the love in his actions?’

Teeth began pulling at the fragile skin of her lips, almost peeling it off. A high-pitched ring was going by her ear.

“My parents would never do that. My mom would make hell on earth to protect me. To protect us. Where is she? Is she dead? Is she gone? Where is she? Where is my mom? Where is my dad? Where? Where is my family? I need them. I want them here. HEre witH ME. HERE. HERE. HERE. HERE. HERE. WHERE ARE THEY-”

“Did Cher do something to offend you?”

A voice snapped her out of it, startling and making her jump, while looking to her side towards the person who spoke to her. 

It was a guy. Just about a few centimeters taller than her, with a well-built body. Light brown hair that seemed almost ginger when the light hit just right. Blue eyes with concern and an awkward smile, dimples showing off his faint freckles over his cheeks.

He took a step back to give her some space once she looked at him down-up, giving an apologetic smile as he gestured to the record she was holding in her hands.

“Sorry for that! Just saw you almost ripping the record in half and thought that I should say something about it.” He fretted gently, hands shoved into the pockets of his denim jacket.

She looked down at the item and realized he was right. The plastic was torn off, and the edges of the record were already crumbled under her still-fidgeting fingers. 

An embarrassed groan left her throat, covering her face with the crumbled record.

“I didn’t notice. I got lost in thought, ugh,” she urged, pulling down the record with a red face.

Great going, girlie. Now you are a criminal.

“It’s alright, I get lost in thought too!” he quipped back with a stammer and an awkward laugh.

Which plunged into an awkward silence.

Awkward enough to be contagious and make her snort a laugh as well. And making him snort as well. Both of them were laughing before calming down from the tense moment. An easy, friendly air was going around them, making her feel some weight off her shoulders.

She really needed that.

“I have seen you around, at school,” he commented. “We actually take class together, but we never actually talked before.”

That got her attention. 

“Oh, yeah. I usually prefer my own… company.” That last part sounded very similar to a question.

The boy nodded in understanding. “No judgment! I can only imagine how it is for you.”

She rolled her eyes with a snort, moving back towards the records. She could only imagine how public the fact was that Wayne was the least liked amongst her own family. That doom scroll through Twitter last night was very enlightening.

“Wait! I didn’t mean it like that,” he sputtered, with a wide look, realizing how wrong his words sounded out loud.

She let him squirm for a few moments, glancing from the corner of her eye as he tried to stammer an explanation and apologies, before grinning at him. Making him stop talking and shut his mouth.

“I was just teasing. Chill out,” she trailed off, motioning at him to introduce himself.

He nervously laughed, offering his hand for her to shake.

“I swear, I have manners.” His tone was lighter, making her smile as she took his hand for a quick shake.

It caught her off guard how cold his skin was.

Almost as cold as pure ice.

“I’m Robert. Robert Drake.” He smiled brightly. “But I prefer Bobby. It’s what my friends call me.”

Bobby Drake

The young girl nodded, pleased at finally getting a name from the first friendly person of her age. A soft warmth invaded her chest.

“Well, Bobby,” she teased, making him chuckle as he took a place beside her. “Mind helping me out, hiding this broken record and picking a new one before I get banned from this place?”

Bobby hummed with a mocking tone, pretending to look busy by flipping through a few records while she waited for his answer.

“Well, I’m in desperate need of a friend and a lab partner for science class, soooo,” He drawled while giving her pleading puppy eyes.

Now it was her turn to act all busy, before nodding pleasedly.

“You got a deal, then.”

“Oh, thank god. Because I couldn’t let you walk away with that monstrosity in your hands. Do you like Chappell Roan? It doesn’t matter. I have to amend your sins one way or another.”

A friend.

She had made her first friend.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Westchester County, New York - 9:30 PM

Charles Xavier had been holed up in his office for the past two hours. There were documents all sprawled around his desk, all meticulously studied and organized in a way that was only for Charles’s thought process.

Another child had disappeared. A mutant child.

The child was on the list of possible candidates for the school. Their mutation has recently awakened (being able to go through walls and different surfaces). A very fascinating mutation, but still overwhelming for a teenage girl who didn’t understand what was happening.

They had scheduled a home visit with her parents a few weeks back, both of them willing to find the help needed for her daughter’s new development.

Then, she disappeared. Just like the other three children.

A pattern was made. And Gotham City was the hunting grounds.

“Professor, am I interrupting?”

Xavier lifted his head and smiled at the young man at the door. He opened the door wider with a small nudge with his mind.

“Come in, Scott. I was just searching around.”

Scott Summers clicked the door closed behind him, making his way towards the desk with a worried frown.

“No updates yet?”

The professor shook his head, rolling back in his chair and going around the front of the desk to be side by side with one of his oldest students.

“Unfortunately, not yet. Our ‘investigator’ just got settled in Gotham this morning.”

That made Scott grumble under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest and making Xavier give him an amused look.

“Why send him? You know how unstable he can be, and this situation is very delicate.”

“I need you here, Scott.”

The young man gave him a side eye under his red-tinted sunglasses.

“Ororo would be more suited for the job than he.”

Charles shook his head, moving his chair towards the glass-stained window that gave a view of the front yard of his mansion.

His home. His haven. His school for his children.

His children, who were taken away before knowing they were more like them. A place where they could belong.

“The students can’t know something is wrong. It will upset them, and Miss Monroe’s presence is required to keep peace and calm in the mansion. You know she is almost like a mother to the student body. We can’t take that stability, not from them.”

Scott remained quiet, moments passing before nodding with a sigh.

“Fine. But if the Batman finds out a feral man is running rampant amongst his city, I am not saving his hairy ass.”

Charles knew he was bluffing.

But he let him be. For now.

Because he was dreading the moment a certain metal bender found out about this.

And Charles knew that would be a nightmare to deal with.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Author's note: SURPRISE SHAWTIES!!!! Longest chapter up to date and with SO much information because we are finally moving foward!!! I wanted to get done with the introductions of the batfam an most of them are almost done ( I haven't forgotten about Cass and Jason, don't worry.) But we finally have Bobby with us! I was so excited to write him because i love him to bits. He's my golden puppy and I will make you guys love him. We're also back with the Saturday/Sunday updates every week! Let me know what you guys think of this chapter or theories you have in the asks or comments. I love answering! Lots of hugs and love, GG✨

Tag List:

 @bat1212 @kneelforloki @1abi @galaxypurplerose @yhin-gg @cxcilla @momentomoribitch @stargirl404 @initial-ari @welpthisisboring @icefox8155 @bunniotomia @alittlelostmoonchild @devotedlyshamelessdetective @shycreatorreview @nirvanaxx1942 @soulsire @ryuushou @rinkydinkythinky @lithiumval @ithoughtthinks @reeyy0-2 @cssammyyarts @lordbugs @ilovecoffe0 @kore-of-the-underworld @fortunatelydifferentqueen @vanessa-boo @livingund3ad @aelxr

Bonus Memes:

[dreamwritesimagines]

Declassified [4] - Outranked

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves🩷 I hope you like this chapter as well! 🥰 Please let me know what you think! 🩷

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: Everyone has their bad days at work.

Warnings: Explicit language, yelling.

Word Count: 3937 

Series Masterlist

Fine.

Things with Bucky had been a bit strange, at least on your part.

Ever since that night at the office and that rush of excitement you had when your hand was in his, you had been trying your hardest to ignore the feeling but it simply didn’t let you.

Throwing yourself into work didn’t do the trick either, but at least the poll numbers were amazing.

You watched while he walked down the stage through the applause and shook hands with the people in the crowd. Even you had to admit that he didn’t need to do much, voters loved him and his genuine approach. Yet, to be safe, he studied whatever you gave him thoroughly to answer each and every question with ease, clearly having read every note you put in your reports as you asked him to.

He made his way to you and Kelsey, and you smiled at him while Kelsey checked his calendar on her phone.

“The next meeting is with Mr. Davis,” she said before he could even ask. “You have half an hour.”

“Great,” he muttered, shooting you a questioning look, and you nodded, then followed him out of the building to the sidewalk. He went into the blind alley right beside the building so that you could be away from anyone who could interrupt you, then turned to look at you.

“The usual drill?” you asked and he nodded.

“Mm hm.”

“I start?”

“Please,” he said, loosening his tie a little. “Ladies first.”

You took a deep breath and unlocked your phone.

“Overall it was pretty good,” you said, checking the notes on your phone as he leaned back on the wall. “Just one thing, you could’ve given more details when they asked about our veteran plan.”

He made a face as if he was already regretting it.

“I thought the same,” he admitted. “And I was going to, then I remembered you told me earlier to lean into education for this one.”

“Yes because that’s our opponent’s weak spot, I saw his project about education, it’s a fucking joke.” You scoffed. “By the way, you nailed the education question.”

He let out a relieved breath. “Good.”

“But like I said, we can just give the overall rundown the next time someone asks about it,” you said. “I actually already prepared a draft—”

“When?”

“While you were answering the question,” you said. “It’s short and to the point, and people should hear more about it, so if we overran by like ten seconds, it won’t hurt.”

“Yeah.”

“Because our ideas are fucking amazing,” you said, looking up at him and Bucky nodded fervently.

“Most of them were your ideas.”

“We came up with them together,” you told him. “And you’re the one who’s gonna carry those to the Congress, so let the voters hear it.”

“Okay,” he said. “Noted.”

“And next, Mr. Davis,” you said. “He’s a hard-ass, however he does have a soft spot for veterans and he’s a history nerd, so please, please throw in some sort of anecdote from your time in the trenches.”

“Birdie...”

“I know you hate talking about it,” you added in a hurry. “I know but we can, in fact, use him. Could be like um, like a fun memory.”

“Fun memory,” he deadpanned. “From the trenches.”

“You know what I mean, Bucky.”

 “I’ll try,” he muttered. “My turn?”

You cleared your throat and fixed your hair to keep your hands busy before rolling your shoulders back.

“Yes,” you said. “I am now ready for your feedback. Go.”

“How much caffeine have you had so far?”

“Two Red Bulls, one Monster, three cups of coffee.”

“What did you eat?”

“Some leftover pizza as breakfast and a protein bar. Oh, and coffee beans.”

Bucky pulled his brows together. “See, that also counts as caffeine—where on earth did you get coffee beans?”

“I brought them in a ziploc. Want some?”

“No thank you.” He hummed. “And how much did you sleep last night?”

“Um…” You checked the app on your phone. “I think it’s like two and a half—oh, there. Two hours forty-five minutes.”

 “That’s ten more minutes than the other night,” Bucky pointed out and you nodded your head, pride lighting up your face.

“Yes. I’m improving.”

“So proud.”

“Why thank you,” you chirped and checked the time on your phone, then stepped closer to him to reach up to fix his tie. “I literally told you Davis is a hard-ass, you have to look put together.”

A small smile pulled at his lips as he looked down at you, and you felt your heartbeat speeding up, but you forced yourself to focus on his tie before you stepped back, nibbling on your lip.

“There. Presentable.”

“Did you change your perfume?”

You tilted your head, then slapped a hand over your forehead with a grimace.

“I forgot you’re basically a hound!” you whined. “Sorry about that. Um—Max got this perfume for me and it’s really not my type of perfume but I wanted him to feel good about it, he’s not very skilled at choosing gifts.”

He raised his brows.

“Your boyfriend doesn’t know the perfume you use?”

“…No,” you said after a beat. “No he does. It’s on the vanity, he’s seen it a thousand times.”

“So he got you a different perfume on purpose?”

You blinked a couple of times, the simple question making your stomach churn in anxiety but you shook your head, trying to shake off the thoughts.

“Let’s go,” you said, and started walking with him following you. “Is it bad? The perfume?”

“It’s not bad, it's just not you.”

“Is it the serum?” you asked. “It makes you notice these types of things more?”

“Yeah.”

“How come you didn’t say anything about the other one?”

“I like how you sme—your—your perfume,” Bucky stammered and cleared his throat. “It’s uh—it’s a nice…perfume. In general.”

“Are you sure?” You stepped out of the alley and turned to look at him better while his campaign manager Paul approached you. “About this one not being bad? Should I go home and take a very quick shower and be back?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Paul cleared his throat, his eyes darting between you two. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” Bucky said. “What is it?”

“You need to be on your way to Davis,” he said and turned to you with a frown. “And you should be at the office.”

“Okay.” You grinned at Bucky. “Hey, less exposure to perfume.”

“I feel like this is common knowledge, but I’d take your perfume over Davis’,” Bucky grumbled and you let out a laugh, then made your way to the car.

                                              *

 It was a busy day today, for Bucky and you. He was supposed to meet all these people and you had thousands of emails to send, and to make things worse, Paul had given you a bunch of things to do the moment you stepped foot in the office.

“He looks more pissed off than usual,” Caleb commented and you heaved a sigh.

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“No idea,” you said. “But hey, do you know how Bucky’s meeting with Davis went?”

“Kels texted me, it went fine.”

“Just fine?” you asked and he hummed.

“I’ll ask for the details.”

“Thank you,” you said and printed out the latest report, then walked to Bucky’s office to put it on his desk so that they would be ready when he got back. You cracked your back and made a face, then took a step to walk back to your desk but Paul stopped you.

“What were you doing in there?”

You pulled your brows together. “In Bucky’s office?” you asked. “I left the latest report in there. I figured he’d want to see it.”

Paul scoffed a laugh.

“Right,” he muttered. “And what about the report that I asked for, half an hour ago?”

“You asked for a full report Paul,” you reminded him. “I had to send some emails, so I—”

“I didn’t ask for excuses,” he snapped, making you pull back a little while the rest of the bullpen fell into silence. Your cheeks started burning in shame but you swallowed thickly, commanding yourself to be calm.

“I had to send the email to that journalist you were talking about today,” you said. “I figured that it was the priority—”

“I’m sorry, you figured?” Paul asked. “I asked you to do something and what, you decided it wasn’t the priority?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Sounds like you did,” Paul said. “And sounds like we have a miscommunication problem here. You don’t decide on shit. I decide what’s important or not, you hear me?”

Okay.

You knew what to do in a situation like this.

Your whole childhood could be summarized with multiple people yelling at you, so it didn’t even take you long to snap into what was familiar. You imagined the walls going up around you just like you would when you were little, schooling your face into a completely neutral expression, keeping your eyes on Paul and not the whole office watching you.

“I don’t really give a fuck that everyone tells you you’re oh-so-smart,” Paul ranted. “I don’t give a fuck if Bucky—” he stopped himself and let out a bitter laugh. “Trust me when I say this, you’re not half as smart as you think you are.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see that Bucky had just entered the bullpen but since Paul’s back was turned to the entrance and he was so lost in his anger, he didn’t even notice people turning their gaze from him to Bucky.

“And when the stakes are this high, when we’re only a couple of months away from the elections...” Paul’s voice rose again and Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not going to let you screw this up for anyone in this team!”

Bucky took a step but you moved your hand from your side to raise it just a little before you curled your fingers into a fist. It was so subtle that neither Paul nor anyone in the room noticed it, but Bucky stopped dead in his tracks like a soldier given a strict order by his commander, his gaze burning you.

“So when I want something to be done,” Paul said. “You do it. You do not think about the priority order, you just fucking do it. Like you’re supposed to. We’re not paying you to think, we’re paying you to do as you’re told. Do you understand?”

You unclenched your fist and nodded, then turned your gaze to Bucky over Paul’s shoulder. Paul blinked a couple of times, his face going white before he followed your line of sight, and turned around.

Bucky didn’t even need to say anything to intimidate people, you were beginning to see it now. His cold glare was more than enough to pin one to their spot, hell, you weren’t even the person who was on the receiving end of it, yet you didn’t think you could move. The whole bullpen held their breath while Paul exhaled shakily, opening his mouth only to have no voice come out. Bucky stole a glance at you as if asking for your next order, but you shook your head slightly, making him clench his jaw. He turned to Paul, nodded in the direction of the door and stepped outside, Paul tripping on his own feet in his rush to follow him outside.

“Holy shit,” Caleb muttered and you bit inside your cheek, then returned to your desk, Kelsey rushing to you while Caleb scooted his chair to get closer.

“What an asshole,” Kelsey whispered. “I still have goosebumps, I’ve never seen Bucky that furious.”

“At least now we know what Howard Stark saw before he—”

“Caleb!”

“Sorry, too soon?”

Your hands were still shaky, and people were still staring at you but you grabbed your phone to send a quick text to Bucky:

Don’t. I’m serious. Don’t fire him, don’t threaten him, don’t do anything.

“Birdie, are you okay?” Kelsey reached out to squeeze your hand and your head shot up, then you tried to smile.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Caleb asked. “That was kind of harsh, even for Paul.”

You threw your shoulders back, trying to pull yourself together.

“It’s fine,” you said. “It’s…it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

                                         *

Paul couldn’t meet your eye for the rest of the day.

In fact, you were pretty sure that he had jumped out of your way when you had to go to his office to get a file.

Even though you could tell Bucky wanted to talk to you, you weren’t exactly sure how long you would be able to keep it together and you certainly didn’t want to break down in the office, so when it was time for you to leave the office, you went home while Bucky was still out on a meeting.

You had already cried in the shower when Max texted you to say he would be working until midnight, so you ordered a bunch of snacks, put some music on, turned the TV on, found the news channel and put it on mute, then turned up the heat and got to work.

You were knee deep in the clean energy bill draft for Bucky to use in his next meeting when the roar of a motorcycle outside made you grimace and look up from your notes, your phone buzzing in your hand a couple seconds later. Your eyes widened when you saw the text, sitting up straighter like someone pinched you.

From: Winter Is Coming

Hey, I’m outside your place. Can you step out for a moment?

 Bucky?

Bucky was—

Holy shit, Bucky was outside.

You jumped on your feet and grabbed the empty snack packages, rushed to the kitchen and threw them into the garbage, your heart beating in your throat as you typed in your reply;

Be out in a sec!

You didn’t even question why you were so excited to see him, you just rushed to the bathroom to to brush your teeth and fix your hair as fast as you could, then made your way to the bedroom to grab your perfume from the vanity, your hand hitting the perfume bottle Max had got you out of the way in your hurry. You sprayed a couple of your own perfume on your skin, then ran to the living room to spritz it into the room as well. You threw the bottle on the bed and took a deep breath, then grabbed Max’s zip-up hoodie to put it on, grabbed the keys and walked out of the apartment.

Oh.

Oh alright, this was going to do wonders for your imagination.

Great.

Bucky was leaning against a motorcycle when you stepped out of the building, and he looked so irresistible that the fluttering in your stomach went crazy as you smiled at him. He eyed you up and down, and you shifted your weight from one foot to other, now realizing that you were in a crop top and tiny shorts under the unzipped hoodie; something very different than what he was used to seeing you in.

“I do have a doorbell, you know?” you joked, still holding the door open behind you and his eyes snapped to yours.

“I uh—” He frowned like he was trying to focus. “I didn’t want to disturb.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” You waved a hand in the air. “Come on in.”

He paused for a beat. “Are you sure?”

“Oh yeah, Max is working late as usual, it’s just me,” you said and made your way to your apartment with him following you. You opened the door to your apartment and stepped inside, your heart still pounding in your chest.

It was fine.

You had been to his place like a thousand times, and even bribed his cat Alpine into loving you with a can of tuna, so it just made sense that he would be here as well.

Completely professional.

Bucky’s eyes darted around the place before he closed the door behind him, then let out a breath.

“Whoa, it’s like a sauna here.”

“Yeah I need every room I’m in to be boiling,” you said with a laugh, taking off the hoodie. “I’m cold all the time, like, there was this one time I had to turn the heat on in June, Max was losing his mind.”

Bucky took off his leather jacket and you took it from him to hang it on the hanger, then made your way through the hallway with him following you.

“I got wine, beer…”

“Beer would be nice, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” you said as you both entered the kitchen and you took out two beer bottles from the fridge, then handed one to him.

“Thanks.” Bucky sat down on the stool and uncapped his bottle and you uncapped yours, then clinked the bottle with his. “Nice place.”

“Thank you,” you said and took a sip, perching on the other stool across from his. “So, what’s up? What brings you to my sauna?”

“I wanted to see if you’re okay,” he said. “After today.”

You scoffed. “Oh, I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

“I don’t care what Paul does. How did the meeting with Brooks go?”

“She’s nice—”

“And she’s hot as hell,” you added. “Like, seriously...”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Did you get the chance to mention that we’re interested in that fundraiser?”

“Yeah, she says we can make that happen. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“That fundraiser would make really good optics and to be honest, she’s kind of a badass—”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Bucky cut you off and you pursed your lips, then nodded.

“I don’t understand why people make such a big deal about it,” you said. “I’m used to getting yelled at, I’m okay.”

Fury flashed in Bucky’s eyes.

“This has happened before?”

“No no, not with Paul,” you said. “Which by the way, what did you tell him? He doesn’t even look me in the eye anymore.”

“Good,” Bucky said. “Means he listened.”

Butterflies returned to your stomach but you forced yourself to give him a reprimanding glare. “Bucky.”

“Hm?”

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing much. I just explained what would happen if he pulled that shit again, very calmly.”

You had to bite back your smile. “Very calmly.”

His expression was almost too innocent. “Mm hm.”

You shook your head and took another sip of your beer while Bucky tilted his head.

“How?”

“What?”

“How are you used to it?”

“Oh.” You let out a bitter laugh. “I got yelled at a lot when I was a kid. It stops being effective after a while, to be honest with you.”

Bucky’s frown deepened and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I had this um…” You moved your hand vaguely. “I had this thing while I was growing up, I was incredibly skittish, so my dad kept yelling at me to think faster and talk faster and eat faster and—whatever you can think of, really. Kind of like a drill sergeant.” 

Bucky stared at you, a soft light shining in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I yell at him back nowadays,” you said with a small laugh. “One of the reasons why we don’t get along well. He raised me to be very outspoken, and now that my values are completely different than his, he doesn’t like it. You should’ve seen the last time they visited, we got into this huge political argument, and my mom just left to go shopping, and Max blocked it out and was like, making work phone calls in the bedroom while my father probably violated the noise ordinance laws of this building. My voice was hoarse the next day, it was crazy.”

Bucky blinked a couple of times.

“Sorry, you mean—” He paused as if he was trying to wrap his mind around the idea. “You’re telling me your father yelled at you and your boyfriend just allowed that?”

You stared at him, that familiar discomfort sinking in your stomach again before you shook your head.

“Oh it’s not like that,” you said. “He respects my father a lot, and he knew I could handle it.”

At least that was what Max had told you word by word, when you asked him where the hell he was during that argument seeing that it ended up with you bursting into tears in the bathroom.

“Did you tell him he’s not supposed to respect your father more than he respects you?” Bucky asked with a dry smile and you licked your lips, your heartbeat getting faster.

“It sounds bad when you say it like that,” you said. “But it wasn’t like that. Max is a great guy, we barely ever fight.”

Well, that was because you barely saw each other within the week.

“And um—” you stammered. “And we’re like, so in love.”

No I’m not.

The thought that flashed through your mind was so sudden and so unfamiliar that it made you stop talking and you swallowed thickly, frowning at yourself. 

What the hell?

When had that quiet doubt turned into an actual thought?

“Yeah,” Bucky’s voice cut through your haze and you looked up at him to see that soft light playing in his eyes despite how tight his jaw was. “Yeah, you mentioned that.”

“…Right.”

He held your gaze in his, making your heart skip a beat before he downed the beer and put the bottle on the kitchen island.

“I should go,” he rasped out and your stomach dropped in disappointment.

“Oh, you could stay,” you said in a rush, hope clear in your voice even if you tried to hide it. “Like I said, it’s just me here probably until like midnight or something.”

“I really shouldn’t.” He gave you an apologetic smile and stood up from the stool. “Thanks for the beer though.”

“Of course,” you said and followed him to the hallway. He grabbed his leather jacket from the hanger and you fixed your hair, clearing your throat.

“By the way, you should ride your motorcycle more,” you said with a tentative smile. “It’d skyrocket the votes.”

He chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You took a step towards him when he opened the door. “Bucky?”

He turned around to look at you better. “Hm?”

“Why—” You paused for a moment. “Paul is your campaign manager. He outranks me and—was it honestly just because of me? Today, when you pulled him aside and gave him a talk?”

 “Yeah,” he said. “It was because of you.”

“Why?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t like it when people think they can yell at you,” he pointed out. “So I’m not going to allow that. Simple as that.”

That warmth filled your chest again, a smile you couldn’t stop lighting up your face and you bounced on the balls of your feet, then nodded.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice a mere whisper and his eyes met yours, your heart beating in your throat again.

“Anytime,” he said softly. “Goodnight Birdie.”

With that, he closed the door behind him and soon enough you heard the engine of the motorcycle come to life, and drive away. Your cheeks were still burning and you pressed your palms to soothe the fire, letting out a shaky breath.

“Yeah,” you whispered into the empty room. “Goodnight Bucky.”

Chapter 5

[pandapetals]

Sunlight & Sawdust

Chapter Ten: Daffodils & Drills previous chapter | next chapter

Summary: For two years, Joel Miller has done nothing but scowl at you from across the room, barely tolerating your warmth, your kindness, and your ever-present sunshine. And for two years, you’ve told yourself his gruffness doesn’t bother you—that his clipped words and cold stares don’t matter. But then, out of nowhere, he offers to fix the damaged floor in your flower shop for free. Suddenly, the man who could barely stand to look at you is showing up every day, fixing things that don’t need fixing, sharing quiet lunches, and—most shocking of all—getting along with Ellie, your daughter, who has never warmed up to anyone as quickly as she has to him.

Pairing: joel miller x fem!single mom reader - no outbreak/au

Content warnings: slight reader description, no y/n used, grumpy joel, grumpy x sunshine trope, ellie is reader's daughter, reader is a single mom, tommy being a meddler, reader is friends with tommy, au setting in Austin, joel is a carpenter, reader owns a flower shop, fluff, angst and eventual smut, minor jealously

A/N: divider by @saradika-graphics.

"You both oughta thank me." Tommy leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, wearing the smuggest damn expression. "Wouldn’t even be together if it wasn’t for me."

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head as you sipped your beer. "Tommy, you are so full of shit."

Joel chuckled beside you, the deep, warm sound rumbling in his chest. His arm draped easily over your shoulders, fingers tracing idle patterns along your upper arm—something he did without thinking now, like touching you was second nature.

Tommy smirked, tipping his beer toward you. "Damn, I swear—ever since you started datin’ Joel, you’ve gotten a little meaner toward me."

"Nah," Joel said, tilting his bottle to his lips. "She’s just finally realizin’ how damn annoying you are."

"Annoying?" Tommy gasped in mock offense. "I introduced y’all."

"And?" Joel raised a brow. "That supposed to make up for twenty years of bein’ a pain in my ass?"

"Twenty? Please. I was an angel until at least the age of seven."

"Bullshit."

Tommy opened his mouth to argue, but you cut in smoothly, smirking over the rim of your drink. "You’re just mad. I stopped babying you and started babying Joel instead."

Joel snorted, shaking his head, while Tommy placed a dramatic hand over his heart.

"Damn. You don’t even try to deny it." He sighed, shaking his head in mock sorrow. "Fine, fine. Can’t blame a man for missin’ a pretty woman makin’ him feel special. Joel’s one lucky bastard."

Joel usually would’ve shot back something sharp, but he nodded instead. Then, before you could even process it, he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your temple.

"That I am."

The words were simple, but the weight behind them settled deep in your chest, spreading warmth through you.

Tommy groaned, tipping his head back dramatically. "Alright, that’s enough of that. If y’all start gettin’ mushy on me, I’ll leave."

Joel smirked against your skin, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Wouldn’t be the worst thing."

Tommy scoffed. "See? This is what I get for bringin’ y’all together."

You grinned, leaning further into Joel’s side, feeling light like you hadn’t in a long time.

"Guess you should’ve thought of that before playing matchmaker, huh?"

Tommy rolled his eyes, lifting his beer. "Yeah, yeah. Y’all can buy the next round since I’ve clearly suffered enough."

You chuckled, slipping out from under Joel’s arm, already reaching for your wallet. "Fine, fine. I’ll get ‘em. Try not to kill each other while I’m gone."

Joel’s hand lingered at your waist as you stepped away, his fingers trailing off your skin like he already missed the contact.

You weaved through the crowded bar, making your way to the counter, waiting for the bartender’s attention.

Joel leaned back in the booth, exhaling through his nose, watching as you walked away.

"You ever gonna stop glarin’ at her ass every time she leaves the table?" Tommy teased, smirking over the rim of his beer.

Joel grunted. "Mind your damn business."

Tommy only chuckled, about to make another smartass remark until his eyes flicked toward the bar and narrowed.

"Shit."

Joel didn’t like that tone.

His brows furrowed. "What?"

Tommy’s smirk faded, replaced with something mildly amused but mostly knowing. He nodded toward the bar. "Think you got some competition, brother."

Joel turned his head and immediately felt his stomach tighten.

Some asshole was talking to you.

Tall, well-dressed, leaning in just a little too close, his elbow braced against the bar as he flashed you an easy grin.

You were smiling back.

Joel’s jaw clenched.

Not the real smile. The one you gave him when you let yourself soften, let yourself feel. No, this was your polite smile, which you used with customers, strangers, and people you didn’t want to be rude to.

But the guy didn’t seem to notice. Didn’t notice the way you kept a little distance. 

You slightly shifted your body away, your fingers tapping absently against the bar as if waiting for the bartender to hurry the hell up.

Joel noticed, and he hated it.

"Relax," Tommy drawled, watching Joel’s hand flex against his thigh. "She ain’t interested."

Joel knew that, but that didn’t stop the irrational heat curling in his chest. Didn’t stop the urge to stand the hell up and ensure that guy got the message.

Tommy smirked, clearly entertained. "Jesus, you look like you’re two seconds from knockin’ his teeth in."

Joel exhaled slowly, forcing himself to stay seated, fingers curling into a loose fist on the table. "I ain’t doin’ nothin’."

"Mhm. Sure." Tommy took another sip of his beer. "You’re sittin’ there lookin’ like you’re about to start a damn bar fight, but yeah—nothin’ at all."

Joel ignored him because the guy was still talking, still smiling.

Then he reached out, his fingertips grazing your forearm.

Joel’s vision went hot.

"Shit," Tommy muttered, grabbing Joel’s arm in a half-hearted attempt to stop him, but Joel had already slipped out of the booth, making a beeline for you.

Joel barely heard whatever excuse Tommy threw at him. His focus was locked on the man standing too damn close, all easy smiles and casual confidence, his fingers brushing against your forearm like he had any business touching you.

Joel sized him up as he closed the distance. Younger than him, well-dressed, and looked like the kind of guy who had never worked a hard day in his life. His posture was relaxed and comfortable, as if he were used to getting what he wanted.

Joel clenched his jaw.

"No, it’s fine. I can totally arrange that," you said, voice polite but distant, the same tone you used when helping customers at the shop.

Joel didn’t care.

He stepped in behind you, his arms sliding around your waist with a slow, deliberate movement before pulling you firmly against his chest. His grip was secure, almost possessive, his chin hovering just above your shoulder as his eyes flicked up to meet the guys.

The man hesitated, glancing between the two of you. His friendly smile faltered just slightly. "Oh. I didn’t realize—"

Joel didn’t say a word; he just kept staring, sizing him up in silence.

The man cleared his throat, shifting his weight before taking a step back. "Well, uh, thanks again. I’ll swing by next week to pick up the arrangement."

Joel frowned, glancing down at you. Arrangement?

You sighed, leaning back into his chest a little, but your voice held amusement. "Joel, this is Andrew. He’s a customer at the shop."

Joel felt his stomach drop, heat creeping up his neck.

The guy wasn’t flirting. He was ordering flowers.

Joel had just made a complete fool of himself.

Andrew gave a small, awkward chuckle. "Yeah, I just needed something special for my mom’s birthday. Didn’t mean to interrupt anything."

"You didn’t," you assured him with a warm smile. "I’ll have it ready next week."

Andrew nodded, giving Joel a final glance before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

As soon as he was gone, you twisted in Joel’s arms, looking up at him with a smirk. "You thought he was flirting with me?"

Joel exhaled through his nose, looking away, but he didn’t let go of you. "He had his damn hands on you."

You laughed softly, reaching up to rest your palm against his cheek, bringing his attention back to you. "Are you jealous, handsome?"

Joel grumbled something under his breath, shaking his head, but his grip tightened slightly on your waist.

You smiled, brushing your thumb along his jaw. "You don’t have to be jealous. It’s only ever been you."

Something flickered in Joel’s expression, and instead of answering, he kissed you, slow and deep, right there at the bar, letting everyone see exactly who you belonged to.

Your phone buzzed in the back pocket of your jeans, pulling you out of the moment. Joel’s lips hovered near yours for a second longer before you stepped back, catching your breath.

You pulled out your phone, skimming over the text from your babysitter.

Hey! Sorry, I can’t stay later tonight. Let me know when you’re on your way!

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I have to go. Babysitter’s gotta leave."

Joel gave a small nod, but his jaw was still tight, his hands flexing at his sides like he was barely holding something back.

"I’ll drive you," he said, no room for argument.

As much as you wanted to tease him, to smooth over the jealousy still simmering in his chest, something about how he looked right now—his shoulders tense, his grip still firm at your waist—made your stomach twist with something else entirely.

You both quickly said goodbye to Tommy before Joel led you outside, his hand on the small of your back.

The air was thick with summer heat, but the tension between you two was heavier.

He opened the truck door for you, waiting until you climbed inside before shutting it and walking around to the driver’s side.

The moment he slid into his seat, he started the truck, gripping the wheel a little too tightly as he pulled onto the road.

The silence was charged.

Streetlights passed in flickers of yellow glow, cutting across the sharp line of his jaw and the furrow between his brows. His fingers flexed against the wheel, his knuckles pale from how tight he was holding it.

You let the quiet settle for a moment before finally speaking.

"Joel."

He grunted in response, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

"You’re still jealous."

His grip on the wheel twitched, but he didn’t answer right away.

"I ain’t jealous," he muttered, but the way his fingers drummed against the steering wheel said otherwise.

You smirked, shifting in your seat to face him. "Really? Because the way you were looking at Andrew said otherwise."

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose. "He put his hands on you."

"He touched my arm, Joel. Barely."

Joel’s jaw ticked, his grip tightening. "You laughed at somethin’ he said," he muttered.

You blinked, then bit back a smile. "Oh my god. You are jealous."

Joel didn’t respond, but his glare deepened, his hands gripping the wheel like it had personally offended him.

Your smirk softened into something fonder and warmer. You reached across the console, resting a hand on his thigh. "Joel."

His breathing slowed slightly at your touch, but he still didn’t look at you.

"You really think I’d let some random guy flirt with me when I’ve got you?"

Joel exhaled slowly, but his shoulders were still stiff.

"You don’t gotta—"

"I want to," you interrupted, squeezing his thigh gently. "You know it’s only you, right?"

His fingers flexed again, but this time, he relaxed, exhaling deeply, some of the tension finally unraveling.

After a long pause, he let one hand slip from the wheel, reaching over to cover yours, squeezing it tight.

"Yeah," he murmured, voice low. "I know."

At the next red light, Joel turned to you. "C’mere."

His voice was rough, thick with something you didn’t have the strength to deny.

You barely had time to react before his hand slid up your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you in.

The first press of his lips was firm, not desperate, but intentional, like he had been waiting for this. Like he wasn’t going to waste a single second now that he had it.

You melted into him instantly, hands fisting in the worn fabric of his flannel, tugging him closer across the console. His lips parted against yours, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping over yours in a way that sent heat curling low in your stomach.

The light changed.

Neither of you moved.

The driver behind him honked, and Joel growled low in his throat, pulling back just enough to mutter, "Fuckin’ hell."

You bit your lip, breathless, your forehead still resting against his as he put the truck in gear and gunned it down the road.

The second he pulled up to your place, he cut the engine and turned to you, his eyes dark, pupils blown wide, leaving only the low hum of the night around you. The distant chirp of crickets, the faint sound of a car passing somewhere down the street. But in his truck's small, dark space, all you could hear was your rapid heartbeat.

"I have a few minutes," you murmured, your voice softer. You breathed more than the sound.

It was all he needed.

"Ain’t gotta tell me twice, sweetheart."

His hand was on you before you could take another breath, rough fingers sliding up the back of your neck, tangling in your hair as he pulled you in.

Heat surged between you when your lips met, deep and slow, like a fire catching just right.

Joel kissed you like he was making up for lost time. Like he’d been starving for this all night. His lips moved against yours with purpose, his free hand gripping your thigh, fingers flexing, kneading like he needed to feel you.

You gasped into his mouth as he pulled you closer, your body half-shifting over the console, desperate to be nearer, to press up against the solid warmth of him.

"Fuck," Joel muttered against your lips, voice rough, reverent like he was losing himself in this—in you.

You barely registered the way his hand skimmed along your side, dragging over your ribs, your waist, holding you firm as his mouth dipped to your jaw, then lower, hot breath fanning across the column of your throat.

"Joel—"

His name left your lips in a breathy sigh, and fuck—he shuddered at the sound, his grip tightening, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck before he kissed over it, tongue soothing the spot.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against your skin, his hands sliding lower, spreading over your hips like he was memorizing the shape of you.

"Tell me to stop," he rasped, voice strained, but he didn’t pull away. His forehead rested against yours; his breath was hot and heavy between you.

You swallowed hard, pulse thrumming in your ears.

"I don’t want to," you admitted, hands still fisted in his flannel.

Joel cursed under his breath, lips brushing yours again, a promise, a plea.

Your eyes snapped open. "But, I really have to go."

Joel let out a pained groan, forehead dropping to your shoulder like he needed a second to compose himself before letting you go.

You exhaled, smoothing your hands down his chest before pulling back, lips tingling, your body still buzzing with want.

"I have to go," you whispered, hating the words even as you said them.

Joel’s hands flexed on your hips like he was considering telling you to stay.

But then he sighed, nodding once. "I know."

Still, he didn’t let you go right away. His fingers trailed one last time along your thigh before he finally pulled back, watching as you reached for the handle.

"I’ll call you," he said, voice still rough, filled with something more profound.

You smirked, glancing over your shoulder. "Damn right, you will."

As you slipped out of the truck, legs still shaky, you could feel Joel’s eyes on you like he was already counting down the hours until he could get his hands on you again.

Joel was rarely a desperate man. He prided himself on keeping a good head on his shoulders, staying level, and not letting things get to him.

But when it came to you?

Jesus, everything went right out the damn window.

He stood on your porch, arms crossed, watching you wrangle Ellie into her sneakers. The little girl was practically excited, rambling a mile a minute about the perfect picnic spot she had picked out in the park.

Joel didn’t know how he’d gotten here. How he’d gone from keeping you at arm’s length to standing on your porch, waiting to haul a picnic basket down to the truck like this was normal.

Hell, maybe it was normal now.

Not that he minded. Spending more time with Ellie was something he wanted.

She’d warmed up to him over the last three months in a way that wrecked him—slow at first, quiet stares and shy little hellos, then tugging at his hand when she wanted to show him something, then climbing right into his lap with a book like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Now she was damn near bossing him around.

“Joel, we have to bring the lemonade,” Ellie insisted, standing on her tiptoes to rifle through the fridge.

You chuckled, grabbing the pitcher before she could knock anything over. “The lemonade is packed, sweetie. Anything else?”

Ellie nodded seriously, placing her hands on her hips. “Yeah, we definitely need extra cookies.”

Joel smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “Kinda sounds like you just wanna eat cookies instead of lunch, kiddo.”

Ellie gasped, looking offended as she turned to him. “Excuse me, we are having a balanced meal—” she pointed at the basket. We got sandwiches, fruit, and veggies. That means we can have all the cookies.”

Joel huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “That right?”

Ellie nodded firmly. “It’s called science.”

You snorted, handing her the container of cookies. “If it’s science, who are we to argue?”

Joel just shook his head as Ellie beamed in victory.

Once everything was packed, he loaded the basket into the truck, letting Ellie climb in first before helping you up.

The drive to the park was filled with Ellie’s chatter, flipping through the radio stations, making up ridiculous scenarios about the squirrel mafia she’d seen the last time you were there. Joel just listened, letting the warmth settle into his chest.

When you finally reached the park, Ellie practically jumped out of the truck, pointing toward a big oak tree near the pond. “That’s the perfect spot.”

Joel carried the basket while you laid out the blanket, Ellie helping in her own way by sprawling across it dramatically.

“This is perfect,” Ellie sighed, staring at the sky like she’d solved all the world’s problems.

Joel settled down beside you, stretching his legs out. “You gonna actually eat or just lay there talkin’ about eatin’?”

Ellie shot up, grabbing a sandwich. “I can multitask.”

Joel chuckled, shaking his head as you passed him a sandwich of his own.

The afternoon passed in easy conversation, laughter, and too many cookies. Ellie had conned Joel into arm wrestling (he let her win, but not too easy), and then she’d made him tell a story—“a cool one, not some boring old man story”—which turned into a ridiculous tale about outlaw squirrels that had you both laughing until your stomachs hurt.

At some point, Ellie dozed off in the shade, curled up next to Joel, her head resting against his arm.

You watched him, heart aching in the best way.

“She’s comfortable with you,” you murmured.

Joel glanced down at Ellie, his expression softer than you’d ever seen.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Guess she is.”

You smiled warmly, your gaze lingering on Joel, tracing the familiar lines of his face—the roughness of his beard, the creases around his eyes that deepened when he smirked, the way the sunlight caught the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes.

Joel caught you staring.

"What? Got crumbs in my beard?" he asked, smirking as he wiped a hand across his jaw.

You shook your head, your smile soft. "No. Just looking at you."

His smirk faltered slightly, something else flickering behind his gaze. Your eyes drifted to his lips, and Joel wasn’t usually a desperate man, but goddamn, you did things to him. Made him feel things he hadn’t in a long, long time.

His voice came out lower, rougher. "C’mere."

You raised a brow, smirking. "Nah. Last time you said that in that tone, it meant trouble."

Joel huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Now, darlin’, I just wanna kiss ya. I wouldn’t try anything with Ellie here."

His voice was playful, but his eyes said more.

Something warm unfurled in your chest, spreading to the tips of your fingers as you slowly shifted, moving around Ellie’s sleeping form to press closer to Joel.

His arm slid around you instinctively, his other hand coming up to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered, tracing lightly along the curve of your jaw before tilting your chin up just enough to meet his eyes.

"See?" he murmured. "Not so bad."

You let out a breathy laugh. "I never said it was bad."

Joel smirked, then closed the distance, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. It wasn’t hurried or desperate—it was steady like he had all the time in the world to savor it, and he did. 

Your lips moved against his, and you sighed softly into the kiss, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

It was something tender, real.

He didn’t go far when he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours.

"Could get used to this," he murmured.

You smiled, your fingers brushing lightly along his stubbled jaw.

"Yeah," you whispered. "Me too."

Joel smiled, a soft sigh escaping him as he traced slow circles against your hip with his thumb. "It’s been a hell of a time these past three months, sweetheart."

You searched his eyes, catching the slight hesitation in his voice. "But?"

"Ain’t no but," Joel assured you, his grip on you tightening just slightly like he wanted to hold onto this. "I ain’t in no hurry."

You studied him for a moment, taking in the sincerity in his face. He meant it.

Still, you exhaled softly, nodding. "I get it." Because you did.

The lingering glances, the way his hands roamed just a little slower each time he touched you, and the long, heated kisses that left you both breathless led to this unspoken moment.

Sleeping with Joel wasn’t just about desire. It would solidify this thing between you.

Maybe that made you both hesitate. How real it all was.

"Like I said, no rush," he murmured, his knuckles grazing your cheek, his touch softer than it had any right to be.

You smirked, tilting your head. "You say that, but I’ve seen how you look at me."

Joel let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "And how’s that?"

Your fingers trailed lightly over the collar of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin just beneath the fabric. "Like you wanna devour me."

Joel let out a rough breath, his hand tightening on your waist. "You’re makin’ it real damn hard to be a gentleman, sweetheart."

You grinned, leaning in, lips just barely brushing his. “Soon. Real soon.”

Joel’s breath hitched, and for a moment, it felt like the world had gone still—like all that mattered was the space between you, the heat, the tension, the pull.

Joel exhaled sharply, pressing a firm kiss to your temple instead of your lips like he needed to ground himself. "You ain’t makin’ this easy."

Your heart fluttered at the restraint in his voice, the way he wanted you so badly but refused to rush it.

You smiled against his cheek. “Good.” 

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