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cybernaght · 1 year

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The fandom echo chamber: fanon, microanalysis and conspiracy brain

As someone who has been in fandom spaces, on and off, for 20 years, I find some fascinating trends popping up in the last decade that I thought to be fandom-specific but clearly aren’t. So, I would like to do a little examination of where those things come from, how they are engaged with, and what it says about the way we consume media. This is a think piece, of sorts, with my brain being the main source. As such, we will spend some time down the memory lane of a fandom-focused millennial.

This is largely brought about by Good Omens. But it’s also not really about Good Omens at all.

Part one. Fanon.

The way we see characters in any story is always skewed by our very selves. This is a neutral statement, and it does not have a value judgement. It’s simply unavoidable. We recognise aspects of them, love aspects of them, and choose aspects of them to highlight based entirely on our own vision of the universe.

Recognition comes into this. There is a reason so many protagonists of romance novels have a “blank slate” problem. Even when they do not, we love characters who are like us or versions of us that we would like to be. And when we say “we”, I also mean, “me”.

(I remember very clearly this realisation hit me after a whole season of Doctor Who with writing which I hated utterly when I questioned why I still clung so incredibly hard to Clara Oswald as my favourite companion. Then I looked at myself in the mirror. Oh. Well. That would do it, wouldn’t it?)

Then, there is projection, and, again, this is a neutral statement. Projection exists, and it is completely normal and, dare I say it, valid way of engaging with — well, anything. Is the character queer? Trans? Neurodivergent? Are they in love? Do they like chocolate? Are they a cat person? Well, yes, if this is what the text says, but if the text does not say anything… You tell me. Please, do tell me. Because, in that moment of projection, they are yours.

And then, there is fandom osmosis, and that is the most fascinating one of them all, the one that is not very easy to note while you are inside the echo chamber. It’s the way we collectively, consciously or not, make decisions on who or what the characters are, what their relationships are, and what happens to them.

(Back when I was writing egregiously long Guardian recaps on this blog I actually asked if Shen Wei’s power being learning actually was stated anywhere in the canon of the show. Because I had no idea. I have read and reread dozen of fanfics where that is the case, and at some point through enough repetition, it became reality.)

We are all kind of making our own reality here, aren’t we?

Back when things were happening in a much less centralised manner - in closed livejournal groups, and forums of all shapes and sizes - I don’t remember there being quite as much universally agreed upon fanon. Frankly, I don’t remember much of universally agreed upon anything. But now, everything is in one place: we have this, and we have AO3, and it’s wonderful, it really is so much easier to navigate, but it’s also one gigantic reality-shifting echo chamber, with blogs, reblogs, trends, and rituals.

Accessibility plays its part, too. If you were, say, in Life on Mars (UK) fandom between seasons, and you wanted to post your speculation fic, you had to have had an account, and then find and gain access to one of the bigger groups (lifein1973 was my poison, but ymmv), and then, if you feel brave you may post it, but also, you may want to do so from your alt account if you wanted to keep yours separate, and then you would have to go through the whole process again. And I’m not saying that fan creations then were somehow inherently better for it than fan creations now (although Life on Mars Hiatus Era is perhaps a bad example - because some of the Speculation Fic there was breathtaking), but there is something to say about the ease of access that made the fandoms go through a big bang of sorts.

(I mean, come on, I can just come here and post this - and I am certain people will read it, and this blog is a pandemic cope baby about Chinese television for goodness sake.)

The canon transformations that happen in the fandom echo chamber truly are fascinating to witness as someone who is more or less a fandom butterfly. I get into something, float around for a bit, then get into something else and move on. I might come back eventually when the need arises, but I don’t sustain a hiatus mind-state. This means that when I float away and return, I find some very intriguing stuff.

Let’s actually look at Good Omens here. Season two aired, and I found it spectacular in its cosy and anguished way; deliberately and intelligently fanfic-y in its plot building; simple but subversive, and so very tender. (I will have to circle back to this eventually, because, truly, I love how deliberately it takes the tropes and shatters them - it’s glorious). And, to me - a person who read the book, watched the first season, hung around AO3 for a few weeks and moved on - absolutely on-point in terms of characterisation.

So imagine my surprise when the fandom disagreed so vehemently that there are actual multi-tiered theories on how characters were not in possession of their senses. Nothing there, in my mind, ever contradicted any of the stated text, as it stood. This remained a strange little mystery until I did what I always do when I flutter close to an ongoing fandom.

I loaded AO3 and sorted the existing fic by popularity. And there it was, all there: the actual earth-shattering mutual devotion of the angel and the demon; willingness to Fall; openness and long heart-aching confession speeches. There was all of the fanon surrounding Aziraphale and Crowley, which, to me, read as out of character, and to one for whom they became the reality over the last four years, read as truth.

Again, only neutral statements here. This is not a bad thing, and neither this is a good thing, this is just something that happens, after a while, especially when there are years for the fandom-born ideas to bounce around and stew. I can’t help but think that so much of what we see as real in spaces such as this one is a chimaera of the actual source and all the collective fan additions which had time and space to grow, change, develop, and inspire, reverberating over and over again, until the echoes fill the entirety of the space.

Eventually, this chimaera becomes a reality.

Part two. Microanalysis

Here are my two suppositions on the matter:

1. Some writers really love breadcrumb storytelling.

Russel T Davies, for instance, on his run of Doctor Who (and, if you are reading it much later - I do mean the original one), loved that technique for his seasonal arcs. What is a Bad Wolf? Who is Harold Saxon? Well, you can watch very very carefully, make a theory, and see it proven right or wrong by the end of the season.

Naturally, mystery box writers are all about breadcrumb storytelling: your Losts and your Westworlds are all about giving you snippets to get your brain firing, almost challenging you to figure things out just ahead of the reveal.

2. We, as humans, love breadcrumbs.

And why wouldn’t we? Breadcrumbs are delicious. They are, however, a seasoning, or a coating. They are not the meal.

Too much metaphor?

Let’s unpack it and start from the beginning.

Pattern recognition colours every aspect of our lives, and it colours the way we view art to a great extent. I think we truly underestimate how much it’s influenced by our lived experiences.

If you are, broadly speaking, living somewhere in Western/North-Western Europe in the 14th century, and you see a painting in which there is a very very large figure surrounded by some smaller figures and holding really tiny figures, you may know absolutely nothing about who those figures are, but you know that the big figure is the Important One, and the small ones are Less Important Ones, and the tiny ones are In Their Care. You know where your reverence would lie, looking at this picture. And, I imagine, as someone living in the 14th century, you may be inspired to a sense of awe looking at this composition, because in the world you live in, this is how art works.

If you, on the other hand, watch a piece of recorded media and see the eyes of two characters meet as the violins swell, you know what you are being told at that moment. You don’t have to have a film degree to feel a sort of way when you see a green-tinged pallet used, when cross-cuts use juxtaposing images, or notice where your focus is pulled in any given shot. This stuff - this recognition of patterns - has been trained into us by the simple fact that we live in this time, on this planet, and we have been doing so long enough to have engaged recorded media for a period of time.

As humans, we notice things. Our brains flare up when they see something they recognise, and then we seek to find other similar details and form a bigger picture. This often happens unconsciously, but sometimes it does not. Sometimes we do it on purpose: finding breadcrumbs in stories is a little bit like solving a mystery. It allows us to stretch that brain muscle that puts two and two together. It makes us feel clever.

So yes, we love breadcrumbs, and, frankly, quite a lot of storytelling takes advantage of this. It’s very useful for foreshadowing, creating thematic coherence, or introducing narrative parallels and complexity. It’s useful for nudging the viewer into one or the other emotional direction, or to cue them into what will happen in the next moment, or what exactly is the one important detail they should pay attention to.

Because this is something media does intentionally, and something we pick up both consciously and not, it is very hard to know when to stop. We don't really ever know when all of the breadcrumbs have been collected. It becomes very easy to get carried away. There is a very specific kind of pleasure in digging into content frame by frame, soundbite by soundbite, chasing that pleasure of finding.

But it is almost never breadcrumbs all the way down. They are techniques to help us focus on the main event: the story. I truly believe those who make media want it to reach the widest possible audience, and that includes all of us who like to watch every single thing ever created with our Media Analysis Goggles on and those who are just here to enjoy the twists and turns of the story at the pace offered to them. And I think, sometimes in our chase to collect and understand every little clue we forget that media is not made to just cater for us.

One can call it missing a forest for the trees. But I would hate to mix my metaphors, so let’s call it missing a schnitzel for the breadcrumbs.

Part three. The Conspiracy Brain.

If you are there with me, in the midst of the excited frenzy, chasing after all those delicious breadcrumbs, then patterns can grow, merge together, and become all-encompassing theories. Let’s call them conspiracy theories, even though this is not what they truly are.

So, why do we believe in conspiracy theories?

One, Because We Have Been Lied To.

All conspiracies start with distrust.

If you are in fandom spaces - especially if you are in fandom spaces which revolve around a queer fictional couple - especially-especially if you have been in such spaces for a period of time, you have most certainly been lied to at one point or another.

We don’t even have to talk about Sherlock - and let’s not do that - but do you remember Merlin? Because I remember Merlin. Specifically, I remember the publicity surrounding the first season, with its weaponised usage of “bromance” and assertions that this whole thing is a love story of sorts, and then the daunting realisation that this was all a stunt, deliberately orchestrated to gather viewership.

And, because we were lied to in such a deliberate manner for such an extensive period of time, I genuinely believe that it forever altered our pattern recognition habits, because what was this if not encouragement to read into things? Now we are trained to read between the lines or see little cries for help where they might not be. Because we were told, over and over again, that we should.

(Yes, I think we are all existing in these spaces coloured by the trauma of queer-bating. I am, however, looking forward to a world where I can unlearn all of that.)

Two, Cognitive Dissonance.

The chain reaction works a bit like this: the world is wrong - it can’t possibly be wrong by coincidence - this must be on purpose - someone is responsible for it.

Being Lied To is a preamble, but cognitive dissonance is where it all originates. In so many cross-fandom theories I have noticed a four-step process:

A) this is not good

B) this author could not have made a mistake

C) this must be done on purpose

D) here is why

(Funny thing is, I have been on the receiving end of the small conspiracy spiral, and it is a very interesting experience. Not relevant to this conversation is the fact that a lot of my job revolves around storytelling. What is relevant is that my hobbies also revolve around storytelling. And one of them is DnD. Now, imagine my genuine shock when one of the players I am currently writing a campaign for noticed a small detail that did not make a logical sense within the complexity of the world, and latched on to it as something clearly indicating some kind of a secret subplot. Their thinking process also went a bit like this: this detail is not a good piece of writing — this DM knows how to tell stories well — this is obviously there on purpose. It was not there on purpose. I created a clumsy shorthand. I erred, in that pesky manner humans tend to. And, seeing this entire thought process recited to me directly in the moment, I felt somewhere between flattered and mortified.)

This whole line of thinking, I think, exists on a knife’s edge between veneration and brutal criticism, relentlessly dissecting everything “wrong”, with a reverent “but this is deliberate” attached to it like a vice, because it is preferable to a simple conclusion that the author let you down, in one way or another.

Three, Intentionality

I believe that there is no right or wrong way of engaging with stories, regardless of their medium, and assuming no one gets hurt in the process. While in a strictly academic way, there is a “correct” way of reading (and reading into) media, we here are largely not academics but consumers; consumption is subjective.

However, this all changes when intentionality is ascribed.

The one I find particularly fascinating is the intentionality of “making it bad on purpose” because, as open-minded as I intend to always be, this just does not happen.

It certainly does not happen in long-form media. Even in the bread-crumb mystery box-type long-form media.

When television programs underdeliver, they also underperform, and then they get cancelled.

If all the elements of Westworld Season 4 that did not sit together in a completely satisfactory way were written deliberately as some sort of deconstruction for the final season to explore, then it failed because that final season will now never come.

(There will likely never be a Secret Fourth Episode.)

And look, I am not here to refute your theories. Creativity is fun, and theorising is fantastic.

But, perhaps, when the line of thought ventures into the “bad on purpose” territory, it could be recognised for what it is: disappointment and optimism, attempting to coexist in a single space. And I relate to that, I do, and I am sorry that there is even a need for this line of thinking. It’s always so incredibly disappointing that a creator you believed to be devoid of flaws makes something that does not hit in the way you hoped it would. It’s pretty heartbreaking.

Unfortunately, people make mistakes. We are all fallible that way.

Four, Wildfire.

Then, when the crumbs are found, a theory is crafted, and intentionality is ascribed, all that needs to happen is for it to catch on. And hey, what better place for it than this massive hollow funnel that we exist in, where thoughts, ideas and interpretations reverberate so much they become inextricable from the source material in collective consciousness.

Conspiracy theories create alternate realities, very much like we all do here.

So where are we now?

I am not here to tell you what is right and what is wrong; what is true, and what is not. We are all entitled to engage with anything we wish, in whichever way we wish to do it. This is not it, at all.

All I am saying is… listen.

Do you hear that echo?

I do.

#fandom thoughts #fanon #good omens #good omens 2 #bbc sherlock #merlin bbc #think piece #it's been years and I still have no idea how to tag #conspiracy theories #fandom content #all fandoms

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highvern · 6 months

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Patterns II

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: smut (18+), eventual fluff/angst

Summary: Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?

Chapter Warnings: exhibitionism, fingering, hand job, dry humping, oral (face sitting), lots of teasing/minor degradation if you squint, overstimulation, breath play

Length: ~9.9k

Note: part 2 is here, let's goooooo! thanks for being so patient and thank you @millennial-fangirl and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing!

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

m.list + support my work

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Avoiding Wonwoo post D-Day, as Amina calls it, proves to be surprisingly easy. An entire week of back to back meetings leaves you blocking off parts of your calendar just to use the bathroom. And according to the grapevine, there’s been zero proof of life from Wonwoo’s end either which has caused Mingyu to break out in hives.

But as the weekend draws closer you’re given the greatest gift the universe can bestow.

“Monday is a disconnect day for the client which means all of us are on black out. No emails, no phone calls, nothing.” Mona announces in the team huddle.

Tears of joy bead in your eyes at the news. However, it's short lived.

“We’ll need to hit the ground running when we come back so make sure everything is done Friday. Even if you have to stay late. Understand?”

Your laptop pings with a message in the corner.

Gerard: how does she make free PTO sound like hell?

Y/N: i think she said it was her special talent when we did ice breakers at the beginning of the project

Gerard: oh yeah right after she said she hates puppies

Y/N: and joy

Mona slaps her own computer shut, sending you ten feet in the air before continuing, “If there isn’t anything else. We can wrap this up. Shoot me a message if there are any questions.”

“And how will you be spending your new found free time?” You ask.

Gerard holds the door open as you walk past, “The way the universe intends. In bed, sleeping. Maybe I’ll finally unpack my suitcase from the last trip Mona dragged me on.”

“Wasn’t that like, a month ago?” You ask.

“And?”

The rest of the day is a blur, rushing from meeting to meeting with barely enough time to breathe. It’s only the end of the day that grants you the next glimpse at the world outside the dreary office walls. Albeit through the bright screen of your cell phone.

Once back at your desk, you unlock your phone to find several unread messages. Several from Amina document her jealousy that you and Lisa have long weekends. Lisa offers to kick Mingyu off the long planned trip to the adorable bed and breakfast she found for their anniversary.

Amina 🍑💗: FREE ME FROM THE SHACKLES OF CORPORATE AMERICA

Y/N: Your honor free her!!!

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: Girls trip! Girls trip! Girls trip!

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: mingyu will understand

Y/N: I am begging you to go have gross emotional sex somewhere other than our apartment

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: we’ve done it plenty of places that arent the apartment :)

Y/N: whore

But a separate thread unleashes a coldsnap in your veins.

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): forgot to give these back…

Attached is a photo. A familiar swatch of cotton contrasting with the rich navy of his blanket in the background. His long fingers grip the hem, involuntarily jolting memories of them curled around your body.

Upon realizing you’re sitting out in the open staring at a picture of your panties, you hastily lock your phone and shove it into the deep recesses of your purse. Thank the stars no one else was around to glimpse the crude picture or the sudden sweat along your brow. How dare Wonwoo’s first attempt at speaking to you post hook up be a picture of your underwear in the middle of the work day. Who did he think he was?

Overcoming the initial embarrassment that floods your system, you decide to ignore his bid for attention. If you ignored him then he wouldn’t know the power he held. Plain and simple.

—

The next few days fly past without incident. Wonwoo remains silent and allows you to fall back into forgetting his existence.

As Friday hurdles forward, the usual shenanigans of bar hopping is replaced by plans for a movie night. You aren’t the only one suffering from sleep deprivation; Amina’s job ran her into the ground, and same with Lisa’s.

The idea fills you with dread, spurred by yearning to spend every moment of free time to catch up on sleep. But knowing your friends, the probability of successfully ditching is on the negative side of zero, especially since you’ve barely spoken to one another all week and they’d both be out of town for the weekend.

The atmosphere of the office is sullen. Late Friday afternoons are reserved for pretending to work and gossiping. Unless you work for your team. In which case, you’ve spent the past hour agonizing over different powerpoint transitions and if they convey professionalism yet approachable.

A throat clearing behind you breaks your trace.

“Okay, I need to go home.”

Looking up from your laptop, an aura of visible graveness radiates from Gerard. His theater minor really came in handy.

“Why?” You ask skeptically.

Gerard was nice. But he wasn’t that nice.

“Because I’m already going to be stuck here all night.” He sighs. “And there’s no point in both of us suffering. You have the report ready?”

“Yeah, I just need to make a new powerpoint and get it finalized.”

“Then let me handle it. Mona wants me to re-do the other report you need for the deck so I’ll make it when I’m done.”

Hands moving of their own volition, you shove your scattered belongings into your purse. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He groans. “If I need something I’ll call. Now go. Be free.”

He shoos you without another word, diving into his own computer. Before Gerard can change his mind you’re in the elevator and own your way home.

Thirty minutes later, you find Amina and Lisa already in the midst of a full apartment clean up. A 2000s playlist blasts from the speaker on the counter while Amina shoots daggers at the furniture in the living room.

“Do you think we should move the couch?” Amina shouts at your entrance.

Her lips move but you can’t hear anything over the blasting noise. “Huh?”

“The couch!” She repeats after cutting off the sound.

You nod before realizing you're still in work clothes. Rushing to your room, you quickly change into something more presentable.

When you return, Lisa is in the kitchen putting away dishes. You and Amina descend on the living room, heads bobbing in sync to the music while you work. Under combined efforts, the space shifts from wild disarray to sparkling clean in no time.

Moving in sync, you both work to tetter the furniture into different arrangements. It takes four attempts before she throws her hands up, accepting defeat and moving to the counter to join Lisa. You fail to silence a half hearted cheer before flopping down onto the soft cushions of the sofa.

“Who said they were coming again?” Amina asks, her head resting on her arms crossed in front of her on top of the cool marble.

“Mingyu, Soonyoung, Eva,” Lisa pauses as she scrolls through her texts to find confirmation. “Wonwoo.”

Both Amina and Lisa snap their necks to pointedly look at you.

Much to your own disappointment, your cheeks heat. Avoiding the scrutinous gazes of your roommates, you roll off the couch and busy yourself with replacing the pillows and blankets Amina tossed aside earlier.

“Have you talked to him at all?” Amina questions, walking over to reorganize the coffee table, sweeping their trinkets and books away for the drinks and food that would soon be spread atop it.

“Nope.”

“He hasn’t texted you or you haven’t responded?” Amina’s eyebrows furrow, as if Wonwoo’s silence is the most confusing thing between you two.

“He hasn’t texted.” You lie, pulling at a frayed thread at the corner of the pillow.

Lisa joins the effort, folding blankets and organizing them in piles. “Well that’s lame.”

“I’m sorry? Weren't you the one who threatened to kill him?”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “So? A girl can’t be dramatic?”

“There’s dramatic and then there’s you.” Amina chimes.

“Whatever.” Lisa scoffs before looking at you. “Wonwoo’s cool but if he ghosted you then he’s a loser.”

You shrug before responding, “It was just a one time thing. It’s not like I was reaching out to him either.”

“I thought you said he was good?” Amina asks with round eyes.

“He was but it was just a one time thing. Let’s not make it weird, okay?” You wait until they both nod before continuing. “What time is everyone coming?”

“Around seven, I think?” Lisa throws the question to Amina.

“Yeah, seven.” Amina answers, eyeing the furniture again.

Glancing at your phone you spot the time, 4:46PM. Perfect.

“I’m gonna shower and take a nap,” You call, heading down the hall.

Once in the bathroom, you undress as the water warms to a tolerable temperature. Finding it suitable, you make to enter but the dig of your phone distracts you. The screen illuminates and you spot a familiar name.

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): I was planning on coming with mingyu tonight but if you don’t want me to I'll hang back

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything

Strange as it may be, you're oddly endeared by his consideration. But his last messages sit on the screen just above and cut the warmth short.

Y/N: and yet there’s a picture of you holding my panties that says the opposite

Y/N: im not spooked so easily

Locking your phone, you jump in the shower. The hot water lulls away the anticipation flooring through your veins. It didn’t have to be weird. Tonight would prove it.

The short nap leaves you disoriented but the laughter of friends draws you out from the covers. Bravely, you change out of pajamas into more presentable pajamas consisting of sweats and a sweatshirt. Once settled, you slide into the hall and meet company.

Turning the corner and entering the kitchen, you scan the group. Eva and Soonyoung sit across the counter, both of them smiling your way. Amina is fussing about, attempting to organize the drinks spread across the counter into some kind or order. An expensive bottle of liquor Mingyu no doubt supplied sits in the middle like a prize, however he’s nowhere to be seen along with his roommate and girlfriend. You try to assist Amina but the space between the island counter and the stove is barely large enough for one body, let alone two. Amina shoos you away after barely a minute.

A trio of voices echo down the hallway.

“Every project he doesn’t want to do just gets thrown on me.” A deep voice complains. “I don’t even know what his actual job is.”

The timber sends electricity down your spine. You try not to stare as Wonwoo steps into the light of the kitchen trailing behind Lisa. Apparently Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Lisa were tasked with food duty; however, Lisa's hands are completely empty. A stark contrast to Wonwoo and Mingyu behind her balancing several stacked boxes between them.

You exchange a brief friendly smile with Wonwoo, before he continues with Mingyu. Shoulders sagging, your relief is only momentary. The weight of your friends watching the interaction is unbearable, despite everyone being wrapped in their own conversations. Lisa and Amina argue over the best order to organize everything while Mingyu sets about actually arranging the boxes. Soonyoung and Eva exchange gossip at the counter, their own laughter slicing through the air above them.

Pouring yourself a drink, you snatch the pitcher next to Eva, no doubt containing one of her deadly concoctions. Filling the glass halfway, you take a sip. Fruit and spicy sweetness tingling on your tongue followed by the warmth of cinnamon. The slight burn is masked with a deceptive tang of citrus. It goes down much too easily for the amount of alcohol Eva includes in her drinks. You estimate it’ll take two servings before you’re asleep against the arm of the sofa. Empting the glass, you pour another helping and cast off from the counter.

Heading into the living room, you beeline for a spot on the sofa before anyone can object. Despite Amina’s attempts earlier, a few people would have to take to the floor and you refuse to be one of them.

“Alright everyone, come eat.” Amina calls in the small space.

You forgo the pizza for now. There would be plenty after everyone settled. Wrapping in one of the large fleece blankets, you burrow down into the sofa. Bending your knees, your legs cross while you lean back into the seam between the plush cushion and armrest, head perfectly positioned to see the television.

Your cup empties before anyone comes to join you. Lisa and Mingyu squash into the recliner on the other side of the living room, the shabby chair groaning any time their weight shifts. You hope it's enough of a deterrent for their determined wandering hands. Many movie nights had been ruined because of their less than family friendly activities. Amina settles in front of the coffee table amongst the pile of cushions and thick blankets. Eva and Soonyoung curl up on the loveseat against the wall.

Wonwoo crashes down into the space next to you, sending a tight lipped smile at your responding frown. His legs spread apart as he leans forward to eat. Your shin brushes against his thigh through the blanket but fatigue prevents any sort of reaction beyond registering the presence of his body.

Someone knocks out the lights and your eyes cement shut. The horror movie Lisa chose begins, lights from the screen dancing across your eyelids. It's a shallow rest at best, allowing you to catch snippets of dialogue from the characters and muffled whispers from your friends. But it’s like being underwater, senses dull as you experience it all from far far away.

You even forget about Wonwoo until he leans back into the cushions. The contact from his thigh breaking when he props his legs on the coffee table. A particularly loud scream comes from the TV but it's Wonwoo’s voice that startles you.

“Mind sharing?” He whispers, asking for permission despite already lifting the corner of the blanket draped over your knee.

You shake your head, nuzzling further into the armrest and away from temptation.

Wonwoo untucks the fold of the blanket from under your legs, stretching it across his lap. The heat of his side radiates into you even more. Even in your lethargic state the hyper awareness refuses to fade. It stokes a part of you wishing to move onto his lap and work you both back into the blissful high of a few nights ago. But you refuse to acknowledge the craving to dive into him, press your face into the front of his sweater and allow the beat of his heart to lull you into a rest.

You're fully aware all you need to do to get the first thing is let him give it to you. You were the one who ran away, shunned his attempts for a repeat, ignored him. Wonwoo provided several opportunities for a repeat of Friday night, now it was up to you to accept his invitation.

But try as you might not to care, the dread of what your friends will think rears its head. It's a cop out; no one really cares that it's Wonwoo, only happy you’re finally getting laid again.

You need to act before your nerve fades but in a room packed full of watchful eyes you’re unsure how to proceed. Feigning a yawn, your eyes pry open to lazily scan the room. Soonyoung has Eva between his legs, her back resting against his chest.. From where you are sitting it's evident they both have their eyes glued to the screen, Eva takes movie night too seriously to allow any funny business. Amina slouched down enough you can no longer see the top of her curly hair. Cautiously swiping at Lisa and Mingyu, it takes only a second before you look away. Thankfully Eva insists on blasting the TV volume to a deafening decibel.

The movement of Wonwoo’s chest, lulled by the shallow rises and falls, clarifies in the fliting light of the screen. More memories of flushed skin shuddering with ragged breaths come to the forefront. Following the curve of his throat to the arch of his jaw, you find Wonwoo already staring back from the corner of his eye.

He arches an eyebrow, challenging and curious. It demolishes whatever resolve you possess to not look away. Instead, you focus back on the movie while untangling your legs and resting them on the coffee table next to his, ankles crossing under the blanket. The sudden motion leaves the entire span of your right leg flush with his left, a comforting warmth spreading between the layers of thick fabric between..

In the haste, the top of the blanket falls down to your lap. You tug it back up swiftly, wanting the layer to conceal your next action from the rest of the world. Satisfied with re-arranganged fabric, your hand doesn’t return to its previous home in your lap. Instead, it rests in the small stretch of space between you and Wonwoo, allowing your shoulders to brush lightly and her fingers to ghost along his thigh.

The heat of his sideways gaze continues to heat your cheeks despite your attempt at playing oblivious. Shifting closer, you pause; Wonwoo doesn’t take the opportunity to move away. Instead, he presses back. Some twisted part inside your mind relishes in victory.

Wonwoo’s left arm slouches down from its place on top of the cushion, joining yours in the space under the camouflage of the blanket. The back of your hands timidly brush before he extends his arm. It's sweet for a moment; shy and coy. But Wonwoo doesn’t allow you to sink into the gesture because his hand rests on top of your thigh and squeezes.

Thankfully you’re far enough back that no one can see unless they turn their neck so far it almost snaps off. Even then, the thick fabric of the blanket doesn’t give away what's happening underneath. The only clues are your labored breath and the shit eating grin threatening to split Wonwoo’s lips. The two couples on either side of the room are in far more compromising positions but with Wonwoo’s hand so high on your leg, you might as well be nude.

Calloused fingertips begin tracing across the inside of your thigh, just above your knee. Without thinking, your ankles uncross, letting your legs part slightly to grant him more space. A wince escapes between Wonwoo’s teeth from your nails digging into his own thigh.

Wonwoo’s hands are lazy in their journey upwards. Fingers massaging firmly against the supple skin, pulling at the flesh with a fraction of the intensity he’s capable of. His thumb kneads into cords of muscle, working out the knots he detects along the way. When he grazes the edge of the large bruise, you stiffen.

Most of the hickies he gifted that night healed, some already disappearing completely. The one he’s prodding now stubbornly remained, much to your mortification. With the irritated skin still sore to the touch, you were constantly reminded of its presence each time you moved. In your peripheral, Wonwoo turns his head. A downward twitch of your jaw motions for him to continue.

The scene on the TV is almost pitch black, throwing the room into a similar darkness. Wonwoo makes use of the cover and creeps his hand past the waistband of your sweats. He lets his palm rest against the lower part of your stomach, the pleasant warmth seeping in, soothing the nerves. The respite is short lived when his long middle finger traces along the elastic of your panties, teasing the skin under the band.

Sweat blooms on your brow and your breath grows stunted. It's embarrassing how worked up he has you. Barely twenty minutes into the movie, less than five of Wonwoo’s touch and yet the distinct wetness between your legs swells. But rather than relief, Wonwoo waits. And he waits. And he waits.

What is he waiting for? You think.

Eventually the movie will end, signaling your friends to get up. The second any of them spared a glance at your corner of the room everything will become clear and exactly what takes place under the blanket will become easily decipherable.

But there is nothing you can do to make Wonwoo’s hand dip lower and feel the dampness he spurred. Attempting to distract yourself from suffering, you switch focus on controlling your breath. Counting slowly to four while inhaling, holding for another four, and then exhaling in the same measure. Even your hand on Wonwoo’s thigh follows the rhythm.

Mouth watering at the tense flex of the muscle under your fingers, you indulge in the visual of his room again. This time, he’s in nothing but his sweatpants, shirt nowhere to be seen. Red nail marks marr his chest and his hair is wild. You’re perched in his lap, completely naked and grinding against the evident bulge, dripping a wet spot on to the gray fabric. Wonwoo would watch while you used his body to get off, his hands tearing into the sheets. Fantasy Wonwoo would beg. He’d beg to kiss you, beg to touch you. Nothing like the devil sitting next to you, forcing you to plead for every once pleasure.

Next time Wonwoo would beg. But patience was never a virtue you took pride in.

Your hand wanders higher, finding exactly what you knew you would. Everything in you fights against grinning like the cat who got the canary. Despite the fact that you haven't really touched, Wonwoo is half hard. Even more satisfying is how he strains against his pants with only a few teasing passes.

He releases a heavy sigh when you push against him a little more firmly. Breaking attention from the movie, you sneak a peek at his reaction.

Wonwoo’s features are void of emotion. No matching bead of sweat at his temple and the heat you feel on your cheeks fails to present itself on his. Not even a wrinkle across his forehead. He almost looks…bored. It's a stark contrast to what you can feel under her palm.

But then you look closer and discover a discrete clench of his jaw and the minute flare of his nostrils. A glimpse at his neck highlights the stiff muscles, taunt like he’s fighting to break out of his own skin. You can’t stop looking. Subtle as the signs are, Wonwoo is just as much of a mess as you are. The only difference being he’s better at concealing it.

Wonwoo continues to play with the band of your underwear, content to pull the elastic and let it snap against your skin, providing no solace. It's maddening but gives you a chance to brace for his next move. He really only has two options, pull his hand away and end the game. Or push his fingers down further and indulge.

When a deafening scream blasts the TV prompts everyone to jump, he strikes. Wonwoo’s fingers wedge in the tight space between your legs. The sudden intrusion makes your thighs clench, a detrimental mistake since it forces the heel of his palm applying pressure to your clit. He wastes no time before prodding against the soaking fabric curiously. Extending his fingers downward, Wonwoo teases at your entrance through your underwear. You could cry at the relief but control yourself, lip nearly splitting from biting back a squeak. You’d sell your soul to the devil if it meant you could be alone, sitting on his lap as he talks you through it, whispering for you to be good while he stretched you over his cock again and again.

But that's impossible. So you’ll settle for this.

Your friends are none the wiser while you build each other up under the blankets. When you stuff your hand under Wonwoo’s waistband, you find out he is certainly not wearing underwear. Immediately you take advantage, letting your thumb graze against the weeping tip. The angle doesn’t allow for a smooth so you play with the head, letting catch on his slit to over and over. Each pass earns you a shudder of his stomach against the back of your forearm.

Wonwoo pushes aside the thin strip of your underwear, two fingers tracing your entrance before dipping inside, curling up to his middle knuckle. It’s hardly enough to get off but the threat of getting caught spawns more and more arousal. At this rate, your sweatpants will be sporting a wet patch if they aren’t already.

She’s so fucking wet. Wonwoo thinks, the revelation sending a shot of want straight to his cock. He curses whatever he did in a past life preventing him from hauling you into your room and burying himself inside your cunt until he passes out. The irony of the position isn’t lost on him. Wonwoo waited all week for a green light and of course you decided to give it to him in the middle of a packed room with a dozen prying eyes and ears. But he isn’t one to shy away from a challenge. If you want him to get you off under the blanket, then he’s more than happy to rise to the challenge.

Wonwoo repositions his hand, allowing his fingers to play with your clit, abandoning the shallow thrust at your entrance. When his fingernail scrapes delicately over the bundle of nerves, a whimper breaks from through your parted lips and almost blows their cover.

The movie, unlike you or Wonwoo, is at its climax. Loud screams and distorted music occupy the attention of everyone in the room. But still, you both pause, frozen and waiting for a sign someone heard. Wonwoo debates pulling away. He’d seen the film before, and while his mind struggles to remember the plot he knows there's simply not enough time left before the credits roll and the illusion is shattered.

Brain riddled with hormones and lust, Wonwoo faces an impossible choice. Call timeout and hope you’re generous enough to give him another chance. Or, he can make the most of the opportunity literally at hand and pray he’s fast enough.

He’d already waited an entire week, what was another day? And if he waited then maybe he’d get to fuck you properly, away from any onlookers. Where you can sing all the noises that drive him crazy.

The way you play with his cock makes confident he’ll get another turn; so, with herculean effort, Wonwoo extracts his hand from your underwear, moves it back on top of her thigh and gives a minute squeeze in apology. He looks down at your face, witnessing the moments of confusion. Your eyebrows knot under his scrutiny.

“Later.” He mouths, hoping you’ll accept his promise to finish what was started.

In an instant, confusion transforms into cold rage. Features smoothing, your chin tips in defiance. Wonwoo already regrets his decision, tempted to go right back to where he left off but you look like you might rip his arm off if he tries. You turn back to the movie and ignore his existence.

The hand in his pants doesn’t leave, and a chill of fear trickles down his spine. You aren’t prone to violence, but having his most prized possession in the palm of your hand, coupled with the sinister coldness on your face doesn’t inspire any faith that he’ll walk away unscathed.

Wonwoo isn’t sure how much time passes before you act. Seconds drag on, forcing him on the edge of his seat with anticipation. The knee closest to him bends, your foot resting on the end of the cushion, providing a tent of space over his lap. A decisive twist of her wrist catches him off guard. The space between his lap and the blanket hides the rough fists of his cock with their friends only feet away. The motion steals his breath; the way you use the slick to slide across his shaft, squeezing tightly to the point stars float in his vision.

With embarrassing swiftness, he’s close. Teeth pinching at his lip barely prevent the grunts building in his chest; praises for the devil next to him dying on the tip of his tongue. Wonwoo’s hips threaten to cant up, matching the rhythm of your hand with his thrusts. The warning signs of his end sizzle through his veins, the fuzzy snaps of pleasure racing up his spine.

Wonwoo takes one last glance at your face, finding he’s already being watched. His eyes scan the mischievous smirk on your lips and realizes a second too late that he fell right into a trap. Without warning, your hand stills.

You smile sweetly as your hand slips out of his pants, snaking it into the bottom of his sweatshirt to wipe the mess of cum against his stomach. When your hand leaves his body and returns to your own lap, Wonwoo he’s been punched in the gut.

He has no time to ponder what the hell just happened because the credits roll and Amina is already up and moving towards the lights. Wonwoo rubs his eyes, thinking about anything that will make his hard-on deflate before he has to stand up. Cold showers, old neighbors morning sex routine, getting hit with a car… he repeats like a mantra.

On his left, you hop up, all but skipping down the hall and into the darkness. Wonwoo wants to chase and finish whatever the hell just happened given that his cock is soft enough he can tuck it up in his waistband. But his phone buzzes before he can. The screen lights up with a new message from the minx herself.

Y/N (lisa roommate): maybe next time :)

The next morning, Wonwoo wakes with utter disbelief at his life. Your texts burned into his skull.

Y/N (lisa roommate): maybe next time :)

Wonwoo: Next time?

Y/N (lisa roommate): you can think of this while you wait

The photo haunted him in his sleep. He stared at it for so long he’s sure he could draw the details from memory.

On your knees facing away from the mirror, your ass is on full display. Wonwoo doesn’t know it is better or worse that you’re lent forward with a lewd curve to your spine. Better because he can see everything. Worse because he received it minutes after you fled to your room, which means the wet cling of your panties to your folds was his doing.

More effective than the picture is the fact you were all but twenty feet away in the privacy of your room, taking nudes while he pretended everything was normal. The entire time he helped tidy up, the walk back to his apartment, and long before he fell asleep, Wonwoo wondered if you were touching yourself. He wanted to ask; ask if you were thinking about him while you did it and if you weren’t, could he give you something to think about?

But every time he opened the thread to message you his finger refused to type. Wonwoo remembered what it was like to have you on your knees. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it. But now he has an idea what you look like from the back and it might end his life.

Instead of spending the night with the subject of his desires, Wonwoo found himself the subject of torture. Lisa came back to their apartment so the couple could leave first thing in the morning to some rural bed and breakfast outside the city to celebrate their anniversary. Apparently, they decided to start their celebration early. Hours of Lisa and Mingyu going at it across the hall stretched on with no end in sight.

Their usual antics would piss Wonwoo off but he’d deal with it. However, last night it only reminded him how much he is not getting laid and he has no one to blame but himself. Crushing a pillow over his head, Wonwoo attempted to make up for the sleep he is already desperately missing.

His efforts were hopeless. Barely five minutes passed before he turned fitful, tossing and turning without finding comfort. Every trick he knows failed; counting his breath, meditation, relaxing music, turning off his phone. Nothing works. He gives up after an hour.

When dawn came, Wonwoo’s bad mood set in to plague him the rest of the day.

Sheltering down in his room, he remains hidden until he is certain Mingyu and Lisa are long gone. When he does finally leave his bed, the choke of storm clouds outside have darkened the skies to the point that if not for the clock on his phone he would think it's closer to midnight than it is to noon.

When he decides to step out to grab food, his mistake doesn’t hit him until he’s already shut the door.

Wonwoo’s keys are still on the kitchen counter. Next to his wallet. And his will to live.

Several streets over, your day is going much much better; refreshed from a full night sleep and the thought of what Wonwoo’s face looked like opening the picture.

Lisa and Amina granted clemency last night, cleaning the mess from the evening before abandoning you for the weekend. Lisa off with Mingyu while Amina joined the college friends on their annual retreat (re: party weekend at the coast). Leaving you all to your lonesome for the next two days, nothing but rest and relaxation dancing on the horizon.

The murky darkness of thunder and rain outside the window is staved off by the warm glow from the floor lamp in the corner of the living room and the dancing lights of the TV as a random show whispers quietly. The warm air is clogged with the sweet smell of vanilla and bergamot from one of Amina’s large candles that rests on the coffee table. And bundle on the couch in the same blanket soiled from the night before, you doze off like a house cat.

A rogue buzzing pulls you back from the shallow slumber, eyes cracking open lazily to search for the device lost in the cushions. By the time you find it, the call has gone to voicemail. The notification on the screen means you must still be dreaming.

MISSED CALL: Wonwoo

A flash of panic tightens your chest. A million thoughts race by, all regarding what could prompt Wonwoo to call you. He doesn’t call you. In the year and a half you’ve known each other there isn’t a single instance of it. The complete uncharacteristic nature of it has you calling him back before giving it a second thought.

“Are you home?” Snaps through the speaker after the first ring.

He sounds pissed. It’s not the usual sarcastic lit that graces his interactions. It’s dry and pointed and already grating your nerves.

“Well, hello to you.” You sneer back.

“Hi.” He deadpans. You can feel the eye roll through the phone. “Are you home?”

“Why?”

It’s 9pm on a Saturday night and both your roommates are out… of course you’re home.

“I’m locked out and I know Mingyu gave Lisa a copy of the key.”

“You’re locked out?” You parrot. It’s not that it’s an impossible situation, it’s just ridiculously unlucky timing.

“Good to know you’re listening.” He bites.

“Actually, come to think of it, I’m out of town.”

“Y/N…” He interrupts, voice clearly exhausted.

Normally, you would goad him until blue in the face. His stunt last night doesn’t warrant patience. But you know he’s had a week from hell too based on what Mingyu and Lisa shared.

“Yeah I’m home. But Lisa took her keys with her so I doubt the spare is here.”

“Great, just fucking great.” He erupts.

You wince, “Sorry.”

Wonwoo doesn’t respond immediately. The measured cadence of his breath echoes through the line. When he finally speaks again he sounds calmer.

“Not your fault,” he murmurs. “Timing is just shit given the week I’ve had.”

“Your landlord can’t let you in?”

“Not answering his phone.”

“And Mingyu?”

“Also not answering.”

After that, words fail you. But given Wonwoo truly seems to be on the verge of a mental breakdown, you throw him a bone.

Readjusting the phone on your shoulder, your hands pick at the frayed hem of the blanket. “Look, if you want to sleep on the couch here, be my guest.”

Silence.

“If you’d rather call a locksmith go ahead.” You rush. “Just thought I’d offer.”

“If you wanted a slumber party you could have told me.”

Apparently, even poor luck can’t prevent Wonwoo from being a complete smartass.

“Have fun sleeping outside!” You croon sweetly, looking for the button to end the call.

“Wai—”

Phone locked and tossed to the floor, you burrow back into the nest of pillows and blankets. Any prior drowsiness transforms into irritation.

Less than a minute passes before your phone begins ringing once more.

It's your turn to snap at him. “What?”

The pause on the other end of the line is heavy.

“I was being an ass.”

“You’re always an ass.” You respond with a deep sigh.

“The locksmith won’t come till morning so…”

Despite your better judgment, you take pity on the poor man.

“Come over.” You concede, cringing at the implication of the phrase. Wonwoo is coming over because he’s locked out. Not for any other reason. He’s desperate and needs somewhere to crash until his landlord can let him in.

“…Thanks.”

The call ends.

Wonwoo knocks on the door twenty minutes later. You can’t believe what you see through the peephole. He’s soaked down to his skin, hair matted to his forehead despite the hood of his jacket. The chill of the hallway makes him shake like a leaf in a windstorm. When you finally open the door to face him, he’s somehow worse than he was through the glass.

If it was under any other circumstances the cling of the hoodie against his broad chest would stir something inside you. But Wonwoo has never looked so… pitiful.

“Oh my god,” You manage, choking on laughter.

“Are we just gonna stand here or can I come in?”

Shouldering open the door, you snicker as Wonwoo steps around. At least until he starts abandoning his wet clothes once inside.

“Wait, let me get some towels.”

Running to the bathroom, you snag whatever towels can be spared. You catch yourself in the mirror before exiting. Messy hair with an indent on your cheek from the crease of the pillow is the least of your problems. There's stain on the front of your sweater from the leftover pizza scarfed down for lunch and you aren’t wearing a bra.

It doesn’t matter considering Wonwoo looks like a drowned cat but you’re still self conscious. The best you can do is splash cold water on your face and remember he is worse off than you.

Wonwoo waits right where you left him by the door, dripping more water with each second. His bare chest glistens in the dim light. When he looks up from his phone you chuck a towel at his head.

“You can wait in the bathroom while I find some dry clothes.”

Wonwoo trudges behind as you lead him back the way you came.

Once again, he immediately unbuttons his pants without regard for your presence. Deft fingers make quick work. You remember where you are when he goes to force them down.

Wonwoo meets your eyes in the mirror, “Staying to watch?”

“I’m just gonna…” You mumble, looking anywhere but at the show he puts on.

The door latch clicks just as the heavy thuds of his soaked clothes land in the sink. Leaning against the opposite wall, your head gently rests against the cool surface. A deep sigh leaves your nose.

You’ve seen Wonwoo naked. Your hand was down his pants less than twenty four hours ago. A picture of your ass lives in his text messages for Christ sake. Seeing him shirtless and wet shouldn’t have you blushing like some virgin.

Ruminating on your momentary lapse of dignity will get you nowhere so you start hunting for the collection of Seungcheol’s clothes from the bottom drawer of your dresser. A few months ago the sight would have sent you to tears. Now, it’s comical. The fleeting memory of Lisa’s bewildered face when you choked down sobs after Amina threw out your ex’s toothbrush rears its head. Crazy how things can change so quickly from hurt to nothing.

You're in and out of the bathroom in a flash, collecting wet clothes in exchange for dry ones. Thankfully, Wonwoo doesn’t jest from behind the current.

While he continues to shower, you’re busy with making the couch habitable. Knowing you can’t deal with another of Wonwoo’s uncouth comments, the blanket you previously used is exchanged for the one draped on the armchair. Rather the blanket Mingyu and Lisa sullied than the one tainted by yourselves.

Wonwoo comes down the hallway just in time, toweling at his damp hair.

“Well, this is it.” You say, avoiding eye contact. “There's a charge plugged in near the TV you're welcome to use. Um, good night.”

“Gonna make me sleep all by myself?” He plops on the couch, arms crossed behind his head. Wonwoo’s too cocky for someone who looked like he drowned on dry land twenty minutes ago.

Wonwoo’s triumphant smirk doesn’t last when you plop a heavy knitted quilt over him. He scrambles free but you’re already halfway to your bedroom.

Scoffing, you respond,“What? Are you scared of the dark?”

“If that's the excuse you need to come over here, sure. I’m terrified.”

“Awww,” you coo sarcastically. “You’ll cope.”

In the confines of your room, you manage the first deep breath of the night. You won’t be able to sleep. Not with him so close. Not when temptation is just beyond the door and down the hallway.

How dare he ask you for a favor and then act like an ass. Of course, he’d use something so unfortunate to get his dick wet.

More steam pours from your ears as you ruminate. Pacing back and forth you scoff at his audacity until it boils over and you're stomping back into the living room.

“You know I’m doing you a favor by letting you stay here.” You fume, stopping a few feet away from where the biggest pain in your ass rests. “I could have let you go to Eva and Soonyoung’s and deal with their bullshit but I didn’t.”

Wonwoo lifts on one elbow, eying you silently.

Faltering under his gaze, you continue to ramble. “How dare you ask me for a favor and then act like a pig.”

“You’re right.”

“What?” You choke.

“I’m sorry.” Wonwoo concedes.

You falter for a second in disbelief, mouth gaping over silent words. It couldn’t have been that easy.

“I shouldn’t have believed you giving me a handy meant more than it was.”

Huffing, you stop and turn back to your room. “You’re insufferable!”

“And yet, you still sent me a pic of your ass.” He snorts, collapsing back into his pillow. “Pick a lane, Y/N.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Flinging your hands in the air, you return back to your room to stew until morning.

“So that picture was all talk?” Wonwoo yells in your direction.

He wants a reaction and that's exactly what he gets. Pivoting, you storm back in front of the couch.

“Oh! I’m all talk? You’re the one who can’t even finish what he started.”

“And what did I start?” He sneers, sitting up.

You know what he’s doing. Attempting to rile you up until there's no choice but to give in. And it’s working. Wiping that stupid smirk on his face is as simple as swallowing his cock until he’s nothing more than a twitching mess. But if Wonwoo wants you, he’ll need to try harder than goading a response out of you.

Biting back you prod his chest, “Nothing worth my time, that's for damn sure.”

“Really?” Wonwoo asks, rising to his feet. “Didn’t seem that way last night.”

Chest to chest, he’s more intimidating but you won’t falter. Instead, you switch gears. Your finger skims dangerously close to the waistband of his pants.

“I’m a really, really good actress.”

A battle of wills ensues. Wonwoo stares you down, unflinching at your smirk. He’s pissed at the implication. It's clear in his body language; tense shoulders, shuddering breath.

Your fatal mistake comes when his tongue peeks out to wet his lips. The memory of what they felt like jolts an ache in your bones.

A tilt of his chin is all the invitation you need to drag his mouth to yours.

Wonwoo has you perched on his lap in an instant, legs splayed over his spread thighs and his hands pulling you forward. It's clumsy but eagerness blinds you both to anything beyond the powerful drag of your core hips against the tent in his pants.

Twisting a hand in the short hair at the base of Wonwoo’s neck, you tug hard enough to move him how you want. A throaty moan is the only response he gives, easily following your demands. But the way his large hands grab at the curve of your ass move you how he wants.

He groans into the curve of your shoulder with the next cant of your hips. “God, you’re so hot. Shit.”

Despite the chill that has creeped its way inside the apartment, you’re burning up; skin flushed and hot to touch. The hand not tangled in Wonwoo’s hair slips under his shirt, nails skating up the taunt muscles of his abdomen. His own hands echo the path, finding their way beneath your sweater.

Wonwoo lifts your sweater and swiftly drops it to the flooring, busying his hands with cradling the soft skin he’s uncovered. He leans away to break the kiss, but you manage to drag him back.

“W-Wonwoo, fuck,” you curse, clinging tighter when he breaks the contact and drops his mouth to your chest.

His teeth scrape against your collarbone, leaving you dizzy and desperate. Head in the clouds, you fold and bend as he tortures your breasts. The rough pad of his thumb leaves goosebumps in its wake, skating across your nipple until it pebbles. One reflex you twist the fist of his hair harshly when he pinches and are rewarded with a moan and rush of his cock into your covered cunt.

A hot trail of sloppy kisses sends your heart into a tailspin. Wonwoo must feel it with the way he licks and sucks your nipple; pulling until it pops out of his mouth before he leans back to repeat the motion once more.

Eventually, Wonwoo’s borrowed sweatshirt is abandoned on the floor as well but neither of you find the rush present from your previous romp. You follow when Wonwoo leans back, flat against his chest.

Hazy fatigue swells around the edges. The feeling of skin on skin, lips on lips, and roaming hands brings everything to a calming lull. Without the fog of alcohol or the threat of nosey friends, you explore each other with feather light touches that turn into gentle gropes, and hot wet kisses that transform into drags of teeth and lips. From shared exhaustion, running on nothing less than minutes of sleep and a near lethal dose of caffeine, you sluggish trapeze through the motions.

Taking advantage of the moment, you discover exactly what Wonwoo likes. When you rake a hand through his hair, nails pulling through the damp locks to scratch against his scalp, then Wonwoo shudders and sucks at your chest with more enthusiasm than before. He likes when you bite him, his hips rutting up harshly with each nip at his throat.

Each breathy sigh you release spurs him on. Melting into a needy mess, you can’t find an ounce of embarrassment; even as Wonwoo massages your cunt through your sweatpants and pathetic whimper after pathetic whimper pours from your throat.

Having his focus on you makes you crave him more. A never ending cycle of want.

“Please,” you beg. The second the word is out of your mouth, Wonwoo is ushering you towards your room.

You trip through the living room with Wonwoo’s mouth still latched to your chest. Pinned between the back of the couch and his body, he sucks until your shoulders cave and you force him from his hiding place.

“What?” he smirks into your jaw. “What do you want?” His hand sneaks its way under your pants, squeezing a palm full of your bare ass before slipping down further. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He nips at your chin, fingers dipping into your entrance. “So messy for me.”

Your hands scramble for something to comfort from the onslaught. Wonwoo is already back between your breasts, humming around the flesh every time you shudder from his ministrations. He twists his fingers into your core, the noise loud despite the cover of your pants.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you rasps under the prod of his thumb against your clit. Rather than succumbing to the mind numbing assault, you jolt into action.

Wonwoo angles his hips just right when he realizes your aim. It’s too easy to force your hand under the fabric and find him hard and waiting just like last night. But unlike last night, you don’t have to hide. And the freedom dooms him from the start.

Anchoring one hand on his chest, you push until he’s upright. He’s a wreck; eyes half shut behind the lens of his glass and lips a delectable shade of red. You pull your hand out of his pants and lap away the evidence of his arousal, delighting in the way a vein on his neck jumps when you give them a lewd suck.

Turning, you saunter down the hallway, shedding the rest of your clothes as you go.

“Coming?” you call over your shoulder, pinning Wonwoo in place as you bend to slip off your sweatpants, flashing him the barest peak of your cunt, before continuing to your room.

You don’t hear him following until you're at the threshold. A rush of footsteps and then he’s emerging from the darkness, eyes taking in your naked form. Wonwoo looks like he’s been starving and you’re the first meals he’s about to have in years.

Wonwoo pins you to the wooden door, one hand finding your jaw while the other bats your legs wide before roughly swiping at your sensitive clit.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he rasps into your ear.

Two fingers tap against your lips. Without hesitation you present your tongue, lapping the digits like you would his cock. Wonwoo watches with so much heat in his gaze you can’t stop a moan from slipping free when he puts pressure on your tongue and causes you to drool. He makes to pull away but stops when you grab his wrist and force him in place.

You suck his fingers deeper, eyes never leaving his the entire time. The pressure against the inside of your cheek leaves you reeling. Pure desire inks your brain and makes you desperate.

Both unsatisfied, you let Wonwoo go. He’s quicker than you imagined. A force full grab of your jaw tugs you away from the door and into his mouth. The slide of his tongue against your own verges on pornographic but you're too busy focusing on the same fingers you’d just been sucking on splitting your folds before stretching your walls.

Slowly falling to his knees, Wonwoo shoulders under your leg until your pussy is splayed for him to enjoy. The trail of hot kisses across your hip do nothing to comfort you. Not with the swift pace of his hand.

“Are you gonna do something or just stare all night?”

The strip he licks up your core, tongue flat and heavy, makes you double over. Wonwoo remembers exactly what buttons to push to shut you up, overwhelming you with his mouth and hand buried in your cunt along with the hand continuing to tweak your nipples.

“Fuck,” you mewl. “You can do—shit—better than that.”

The raze of his teeth on your clit is punishment enough for the outburst. But Wonwoo loves to prove a point. His pace becomes slower than ever, still hard but the tempo of his hand is reserved. It makes you hot all over. Choking on air, your brain melts and bones jelly under the lashing of Wonwoo’s tongue.

Just as he finds the perfect angle, he falls back.

You snap. “What the fuck?”

He doesn’t answer. Wonwoo pulls away his hand and rises to his feet. Once nose to nose, he smiles. The sudden change is disorienting. Even more so when he leaves a gentle peck against your cheek and heads for the bed.

Perching on the bed, he leans pack on to his palms and presents his lap like a throne. “Come here,” he commands.

Scrabbling into his lap, Wonwoo catches you off guard. His hands strike across your waist as he leans back, shuffling you up his chest until your knelt over his face.

Your hands steady on your thighs, brushing his. In an uncharacteristic act of sweetness, he tangles his fingers with your own.

The gesture leaves you reeling. “Wonwoo?”

His hands curl around your thighs and force you down onto his waiting tongue. There's no build up, only hunger. Wonwoo points his tongue and uses it to trace hard circles around your clit before suck so harshly you buckle in half.

If Wonwoo minds he makes no show of it. Instead, he pins your tangled hands in place and licks deeper, tracing anywhere he can reach. Every muscle in your body jerks from the sloppy way he eats you out.

Sweat blooms on your skin. Each breath stilted and you’re drooling when cracks open an eye to take him in. The flex of his biceps when you lurches against a vulgar suck of his mouth. Even the mop of his hair buried between your thighs makes you whimper.

One hand leaves your, reaching around and pinching your ass punitively.

“Work for it,” he hums into your pussy.

Not needing to be told twice, you rock where your bodies meet. Your free hand tangles in his hair and uses the leverage to grind against his tongue. Wonwoo’s hand continues to follow the curve of your ass until he’s able to tease your entrance.

Foul noises radiate from where he works you, from his hand and your mouth. Spit and arousal smear on his cheeks and you can feel it against your thighs bracketing his head.

You want to see his face. The heat in his eyes when he’s focused on something, focused on you, making you cum. You pull Wonwoo’s hair again.

“Focus,” His muffled voice is thick and broken, like he’s getting off just as much as you are.

Whining from the vibration against your clit, tears threaten to fall from how tight you pinches your eyes shut from the onslaught.

“Wonwoo, I’m—” you sob. “Please, fuck. Please, I’m gonna cum.”

The world holds its breath. And then it shatters into a million pieces.

You’re whole and not. No more than a supernova. Whine after whine claws its way out of your lungs until you choke on them.

Wonwoo pays no mind, continuing to work you until you try and fall away. But he expects it, moving with you and staying between your thighs like you haven’t cum at all.

“Too much,” you gasp when he spits on your ruined cunt.

Flashing the pink of his tongue, he sneers your own words back with acidic sweetness. “You can do better than that.”

Tossing your legs over his shoulders, he digs in again.

It hurts. Wonwoo isn’t easing you into a second orgasm. If anything, he’s bullying it out of you.

And you take it.

“I can’t,” you plead, dipping your chin to meet his eyes and beg your case. “Too much, Woo. I—”

Wonwoo leans back and slows the three fingers buried inside you. The hand pressed to your stomach rises to cup your face, his thumb tracing the bow of your lips.

“You can.” He coos. His thumb slips into your mouth a second before he spits on your clit and uses his soiled hand to slap.

The scream ripping its way out is silenced by the digit in your mouth. Wonwoo dives back in, taking zero mercy. Your hips buck into his mouth involuntarily and the bastard laughs.

“See? You want it so bad, don’t you baby?”

His thumb pops from your mouth but not before you manage a quick nip. The look on Wonwoo’s face tells you it was the wrong answer to his question.

Your breath falters when the faintest amount of pressure ghosts along your throat, waiting for your okay before committing.

Spreading your legs wider and tucking your hands behind your knees, you nod, “I want it.”

Pupils blown wide, Wonwoo goes rigid before exploding into a frenzy.

He sucks your folds into his mouth, hastily laving you in his spit before forcing another finger inside your tight hole.

“C’mon, you can do it for me. Give me one more.” He demands while coming up for a breath. “Such a fucking mess for me.”

Your hips snap harshly, nails digging into his wrist resting on your chest. “Oh my god, oh my god!”

Feet planting onto the mattress, you rock against his face with more force than before. A cacophony of vulgar squelches and desperate whines fill the room. He squeezes until stars dot your vision from the lack of blood flow only to release with a rush of lightheaded bliss. Using your hands to tug at your sore nipples, you finally give Wonwoo what he wants.

“W-Wonwoo, so good.” You pant.

He cleans up the mess the same way he made it but with a gentler touch. It doesn’t stop the quivers of overstimulation from wrecking your nerves but he whispers an apology for each one and rubs it into the crease of your thigh when you wince.

With a final peck to your clit, he releases you.

Wonwoo’s chest heaves, eyes drooping in lust or fatigue, you don’t know. Maybe both. When he rises from his spot between your legs, you scramble for his face. Mouths meet in a slow kiss, nothing more than a languid press against one another and a few deep breaths. You taste yourself but ignore it. You’re too tired, too sated, to care.

You try and palm his cock, eager to return the favor but Wonwoo shifts away. He crowds you up to the pillows, pulls you into his chest, and sends you off to sleep with his lips against your forehead.

You simply lay there, curled around one another until sleep claims you.

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Series Taglist: @aaniag @sdoulc @wonvsmile @jeonwonwooscutie @wonrangwoo @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @yogurttea @4cheezflatbred @fragmentof-indifference @p-dwiddle @icedearlgreytea @cottoncheol @hoshiskimchi @listxn @kwonshiho @kyeomofhearts @beananacake

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flowerandblood · 2 months

Text

The Lost Haven (9/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex scene with Alys from the past, smut, the angst, description of a drug overdose, murder by shot in the head, violence, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After everything that had happened, according to his suspicions, all hell broke loose: Daemon's anger over the fact that they had dared to kidnap and imprison his daughter was great. Helaena, Daeron and his mother stayed in the house almost all the time under the supervision of their bodyguards, so that the unpleasant consequences of what was happening would not reach them.

Daemon's gangsters tried to forcibly take over what was rightfully theirs: brothels, clubs, restaurants, however, they were met with resistance, as they had no intention of moving from their place and giving them anything.

The comical thing was that, although the law was on his side, Daemon could not use the help of the police: their discovery of how widespread the money laundering and drug smuggling was would have given them all life imprisonment, and the premises would have been seized by the State for as long as the prosecution considered it good for the case.

For the first time in years there were real shootings and on several occasions, had it not been for his reflexes, a bullet would have pierced his arm or leg when he was just walking to the car park or leaving the club.

Despite what common sense would dictate, he didn't feel terrified: on the contrary, some part of him wanted a challenge, a release, anything that would make him stop thinking about what he had done to her.

He couldn't forgive himself for showing her weakness, for crying in her presence like a small child, for begging her forgiveness only to find after a while that he missed her, that he had suffered through their separation and the fact that he had lost her.

One part of him wanted to forget her but the other ached to prove to her that in some fucked up way he could change.

To become a different kind of monster, one that wouldn't devour her, but protect her.

He planned what he wanted to do with meticulous care, as if he were going off to war. He knew that Larys Strong was preoccupied with what was going on, thinking they were focused on Daemon, he meanwhile was lavelling between them, trying to pick up customers from both sides.

He was like a disgusting snake whose head he wanted to trample on, but mostly because he dared to threaten her.

He wanted to make sure that this piece of shit would disappear from the face of the earth.

He initiated the only person in his industry he trusted, namely Alys, into his plan.

"Why?" She asked, smoking a cigarette with him by the wide-open window in her flat, sitting in her smart black shirt and trousers, her luscious green irises staring at him anxiously, letting out a mouthful of smoke.

He took a drag, looking blankly out of the window, at the townhouse across the street, seeing her face then as she lay numb in the toilet, and then as she lay in his bed, after he gave her the sleeping drug himself.

He pressed his lips together at the thought, feeling an unpleasant constriction in his chest indicating that he was remorseful.

"He was the one who gave my niece the rape pill." He sighed, tilting his head back, spreading himself more comfortably in the chair with a loud creak of wood.

Alys stared at him in silence for a long time, her cigarette slowly burning out between her fingers.

"I met her. Your niece. A few weeks ago in the Red Sun pub." She hummed, taking another drag, not taking her eyes off him.

He knew she had noticed that something flashed across his face at the mention of her – involuntarily he turned his head away and swallowed hard, clenching his free hand into a fist.

Alys chuckled under her breath, blowing smoke out of her mouth straight at him as she spoke her next words.

"Daemon showed her what you did to Robert."

He stared ahead, fiddling with the packet of cigarettes lying on the table in front of him, feeling his heart in his throat.

So that's how she found out, he thought with regret.

"How did she react?" He asked involuntarily.

"The poor girl was in shock. Her uncle turned out to be less understanding than she might have thought." She muttered, leaning forward, resting her body weight on her elbows.

He couldn't look at her, afraid she would see what he so desperately wanted to hide from her.

"Was that her name that you accidentally blurted out then?" She asked, making him feel an unpleasant squeeze in his throat and a burning wetness under his eyelids.

The prove that she was right.

The nights with Alys had been simple: they'd taken care of business and then fucked. They knew they were both broken: what they were doing had warped and deformed them as individuals, and by giving each other intimacy they were simultaneously comforting each other in their misery.

"– fuck –" He breathed out, tilting his head back, his hands clenched in her hair so tightly that he heard her hiss from between his thighs. Her nails dug warningly into his hip, signalling him not to overdo it.

He couldn't believe how good she was at sucking cock, with what ease her tongue rolled around it's delicate, pink head while clamping her lips so that she squeezed it with each of his thrusts deep into her warm throat.

He was aroused by her directness, by the fact that she only wanted to satisfy and be satisfied, exactly as he did.

"– stop – 'm close –" He exhaled as he felt his erection begin to throb vigorously and twitch deep inside her mouth, causing her to let him out with a loud, perverted click of her saliva.

His manhood was all red and pulsing, glistening from his precum and her wetness, pleasant warmth in his belly.

Alys wasted no time in pulling her black lace panties off her legs, allowing him to turn her onto her stomach as usual. He positioned himself between her thighs, spreading her soft, full buttocks like a fruit, sinking into her warmth with a loud sigh of relief.

Only then, when he couldn't see her face, he was able to close his eyes and sink into his most sickening, dark fantasy.

As he slid slowly into her, in his imagination he could see the terrified, hot look in her eyes, her sweet lips wide open, her soft, fleshy cunt clenched around his swollen erection, throbbing with longing, making him run out of breath, her hands simultaneously pushing him away and holding him close.

"– Aemond – no, no, we can't – we can't –" His niece mewled in his mind, whimpering softly and innocently, afraid that someone would hear them, that her brothers would find out what he was doing to her, how greedily he was opening her slick walls on his fat cock again and again, unable to stop.

"– oh baby –" He mumbled.

He heard another sound too, a lower one – Alys moaned feeling him involuntarily quicken his pace, thrusting deep between her leaking, convulsing folds. Frustrated, he clamped his hand in her hair, pressing her face harder against the duvet, not wanting to hear her now.

He had never kissed Alys or any other woman. When they tried to do this, he felt only disgust and turned his head away – the act seemed to him too tender, too intimate, and on top of that, it reminded him of her, the taste of her lips, her warm breath on his face, her sweet scent.

For this reason, too, he never stayed up all night or went to sleep with the women he fucked: their arms, their embrace was not the one he longed for, their words, their skin, their fingers, their faces, their hair, everything was different, different, different, foreign, distant, repulsive.

Alys knew.

She felt it subconsciously.

"– are you thinking about her now? – " She breathed out, making him involuntarily bite his lower lip and groan throatily, his hips began to slam against her ass faster and faster, bringing him closer with each thrust to fulfilment deep inside her.

She didn't know her identity, but she knew she existed and that he wasn't able to forget about her.

"– would you like her to be so fucking wet for you? – to take you in so easily? – for her little pussy to clench around your cock? – to come inside her? –" She exhaled, and he groaned, imagining that she wanted it, that she craved his cum deep inside her pretty, innocent body, slamming between his niece's thighs like a mad.

"– u-uncle – uncle, uncle, uncle, oh God, oh my fucking God, please –" He heard her vulnerable whines, feeling a squeeze in his testicles, hot wave of pleasure ran through his lower abdomen and stomach.

"– f-fuck, Rhaenys –" He mumbled and came with a loud gasp, feeling her spasming cunt begin to clench against his twitching erection, along with him going through the wonderful relief that shook his body.

He froze, panting loudly and opened his eyes only to see that Alys was grinning wildly.

She was proud of herself.

She loved to torment him.

"– Rhaenys –" She said after him, intrigued, without shadow of regret or pain on her face. "– what a pretty name –"

"– 'm sorry – forget about it –" He mouthed, completely panicked, sliding out of her with a loud click of their moisture, feeling his heart pounding like a mad in fear.

He thanked God that it wasn't her real name.

"– why? – tell me more about her – it's touching in some way that you are so deeply in love with her –" She hummed, turning onto her back.

He quickly zipped up his trousers, for some reason unable to look at her bare body now, furious at her remark.

"Fuck no." He growled.

Alys twisted in her place, surprised.

"Aemond."

"I don't want to talk about it. That's not why I came here." He said in frustration, grabbing his Tshirt, putting it aggressively over his head.

She sighed heavily, leaning her back against the bed frame, looking at him intently.

"You are adorable when you are mad."

He looked at her, seeing in her eyes that she knew she'd hit the nail on the head and ran his hand over his face.

"Have you fulfilled your fantasies with her? Then, during your father's birthday. After all, he invited your whole family." She sneered, cocking her head.

He shuddered, looking at her shocked and horrified, feeling like a little boy caught in the act.

"Don't be ridiculous. If you don't want to help me with what I came to you with, just say so." He hissed too quickly, too angrily and too helplessly, and the corner of Alys' mouth twitched in a grin.

"Did you stop talking to her when her mother married Daemon through a conflict of interest or because you knew that as an uncle you shouldn't moan your niece's name during your climax?" She asked, and he felt his lips part in a shuddering, uneven breath.

"You betrayed that poor little girl even though she gave you everything you wanted."

Her cold, mocking words stayed with him all night: she didn't give him a clear answer as to whether she would help him, but she let him know that she didn't intend to interrupt him.

She had no love for Larys Strong and would benefit from his disappearance herself.

Although the plan was different, more complicated and sublime, he drove straight to Heavenly Beach.

You betrayed that poor little girl even though she gave you everything you wanted.

When it was all over, he decided that his success had been determined by the effect of the surprise: when he walked into Larys's office, he greeted him with a smile, standing up, apparently wanting to offer him something to drink and ask what he was coming to him with.

The bodyguard didn't even think to take his gun away from him.

He was just his grandfather's faithful dog, nothing more.

And yet, when he pointed it at his head and simply fired, shooting him right in the forehead, Larys seemed surprised and staggered backwards, falling numbly like a heavy wooden puppet to the floor.

He fled through the back exit, the door by which the bar staff were leaving for a cigarette, and although he hoped that one of the shots he heard behind him among the screams would reach him, it did not.

Apart from the shattered rear window of the car and the wrath of his grandfather, no other consequences of his act reached him.

"Do you know what you did? Larys was filling our pockets with money."

"And also emptied them." He hissed, watching as Otto paced around the room while he sat in his chair, pleased with himself as never before.

For some reason he felt a sense of pride.

"You are a fool. You did it out of a private desire for revenge. You acted rashly and thoughtlessly. You have failed me for the last time." He said in a manner from which he pressed his lips into a thin line.

"Aegon will take over the whole business, not you."

When he finally returned to his flat he felt rage and relief, disappointment and euphoria at the same time, feeling like he had completely lost his mind.

Vhagar watched him from across the room, seeing him throw things off tables and cupboards, afraid to approach him, her tail tucked under her belly.

He had killed him for her.

He sacrificed himself for her.

He lost his inheritance for her.

And she was not with him.

He felt in that moment that he loved her and hated her at the same time.

The dreams in which he killed Larys again and again came back to him every night, making him wake up drenched in cold sweat: he saw in them how he gouged out his eyes, how he cut off his limbs before her eyes, listening to her screams and her cries, her pleas for him to stop.

By having his grandfather reduce his role to the bare minimum of collecting money and handing over goods, he could finally concentrate on his studies during the day. To his surprise, sinking into the thick textbooks she had brought him was liberating, as if a new, previously unknown part of the world had opened up to him.

He was going to attend the exam.

He hoped to see her there.

He filed the documents in person and, as he was leaving the University, he spotted one of Daemon's bodyguards smoking a cigarette in the car park from a distance.

They had been watching her the whole time.

Good, he thought.

He knew that if anyone saw him there Daemon would take her out immediately and that was why he had to be more careful.

On the day of the exam, he felt like a small child: even though he knew what he had to prepare for and had gone through specific chapters many times, standing with a group of young people peering at his face and scar he felt alien, even though he hoped it would be different.

Even when he tried, he couldn't fit in, blend in with the crowd.

To his surprise, he found the exam itself trivial: too simple for his taste. He recognised that he had surely made some mistake when reading the questions, that there was something tricky about them, that he would make a fool of himself.

However, reading what he had written again and again he thought he had given the correct answers and just gave up, walking out of the room, dismayed and disappointed.

He felt like he had been pierced by lightning when he saw her standing in the corridor, looking at him with her mouth wide open. He felt a pleasant heat in his chest at the thought that she had come, for him, just for him, and then he looked to the side and saw who was standing next to her.

His hands clenched into a fist as her ex-boyfriend reached out to him, fumbling some sort of goof about how nice it was to meet him, pretending to be open and welcoming.

His niece saw immediately the danger that lurked behind his furious expression.

"Thank you, Robb. Will you leave us alone?" She asked him in a trembling voice.

He thought she had only taken him with her for safety, as she was afraid to come to him alone, and affectionately concluded that she was a wise girl.

"Are you sure?" Her ex asked her, making him feel his jaw clench in rage.

"Didn't you hear what she said?" He sneered harshly, throwing him a look full of boredom and disapproval, wanting to show him that he was losing patience.

He had done his part and there was certainly nothing more between them, so he could fuck off.

Robb clearly didn't like the tone of his voice.

"I'm not talking to you, mate." He said in a way he didn't like, but all it took was a movement in his direction for his niece to stand in front of him, looking straight into his face with her big eyes, her cheeks rosy with emotion.

"That's enough." She said. "Aemond is having a hard time. Forgive him. Sometimes he doesn't know how to behave. He won't hurt me. Am I wrong?"

He swallowed hard, looking away with his heart beating fast, feeling the hot shame spread across his lower abdomen.

He won't hurt me.

When Robb finally left them alone she shook her head with an expression on her face as if she regretted coming to see him at all and turned, startling him by going the other way.

"It was a mistake."

"– no – no, wait –" He moved behind her, immediately grabbing her arm, pulling her closer, as close as possible, smelling her body and her hair again, the scent of vanilla filling his lungs.

He let his hand embraced her waist, pressing his forehead into her temple, wanting to take refuge in her, feeling thirsty for her presence, her words, her warm gaze full of understanding.

"– are you two together again? –" He whispered involuntarily, wanting to be sure that this bastard was no longer a threat to her, that he didn't have to worry about him hurting her again.

He swallowed hard when he heard her cold laughter full of frustration, feeling a stinging discomfort in his stomach.

"– do you want to tell me how you know who I'm dating and when? –" She asked drily.

Why did she avoid answering?

Why did she speak in this way?

"– do you love him? –" He muttered, and she shook her head, furious, trying to push him away.

"– I hope you'll pass – let me go – let me go, I said –" She growled, but he clamped his hands on her back and snuggled her body into his, sinking his nose into her wonderfully soft, warm cheek, feeling how his erection reacted with an aggressive, joyful pulsing to her closeness.

How was he ever going to let anyone else have her?

How would he ever get over it?

There was no way back now.

"– I killed him for you –" He whispered and felt her stop resisting him, her whole body frozen in stillness.

He sighed quietly, leaning in, his lips swollen with desire as he began to place wet, hot, lingering kisses on her face, her jaw, her neck with every word he spoke.

"– I killed him because he threatened you – because he wanted to hurt you – I want you to be safe –"

He felt her hands tighten on the material of his shirt as a quiet cry left her lips, and he, feeling an involuntary desire to protect her from this suffering, cuddled her face into his neck, wanting to hide her, to bury her deep within himself, to be her stone fortress in which she could hide.

"– I'm not pregnant –" She whispered in a way from which he froze.

There was no satisfaction or relief in her words.

She was sad.

This revelation, the thought that some part of her wanted this child as much as he did, caused his full lips to place a tender, drawn-out kiss on her temple.

"– I know – the doctor told me – we just have to try again –"

We just have to try again.

He couldn't believe how easy it had been for him to say that, to accept that he was sick, that he had just told his own niece that they should fuck again, because that way they would perhaps have the baby they so wanted.

His life had reached such a level of absurdity that it no longer seemed impossible to him.

He heard her draw in a loud breath, shocked by what had left his mouth.

"– do you hear yourself? – after what you did to me? – after how –" She mouthed, choking on her own tears, however, instead of pushing him away she snuggled into him tighter, clasping her hands on his back.

She sought her comfort in him, in her tormentor, because he was the only one who understood what she was going through.

There was something simultaneously beautiful and tragic about this, he thought.

He had destroyed her.

"– shhh – I'm here, baby –" He hushed her, stroking her hair and her back as if she were a small child, pressing his face against her temple, wanting to show her that he was there for her and that this would never change.

His words written on a piece of paper then, in the hospital.

I will always watch over you.

They both flinched and moved away from each other when her phone began to ring and it appeared that her father's bodyguard who had been waiting for her had begun to grow impatient.

"– n-no – no, I'm on my way, I was talking to the professor – I'm sorry –" She muttered with difficulty, terrified, making him feel like locking her in his embrace and never letting her go.

She was so sad, so tired, so vulnerable.

He knew, he felt, that they would both experience true relief, true rest only in each other's arms, in the tight union of their hot, sweaty, naked bodies.

"– wait a few minutes before I go so they don't see you –" She said, leaving him alone, not bestowing a single glance on him.

And then her ex-boyfriend humiliated her in front other students, saying some bullshit about her lack of self-respect as he watched them from afar.

As soon as she was out of his sight he walked up to him – Robb looked at him horrified and took a step back, wanting to run away.

"I feel like smashing your skull for what you dared to say, but I won't do it for her sake. You will never speak to her that way again. What's more, you won't speak to her at all, or I'll make your face no longer beautiful. Do you understand?" He asked, and Robb nodded quickly, looking at him with big eyes.

"One ill-considered word from you. One look from her colleagues that I don't like and that reveals to me that you told someone about it, and your life will become very, very difficult. Mate." He sneered and sidestepped him, heading for his car, seeing that his niece and her father's bodyguard had driven off.

When he got back to his flat he thought he felt strangely calm: the thought that she had come to see him, that she still cared about what would happen to him, who he would be filled him with contentment and satisfaction.

He was not indifferent to her.

She could not hate him.

Vhagar, though uneasy in his presence for days, that evening approached him of her own accord wagging her tail. Though he did not usually do so, he allowed her to jump onto his bed, his broad hand stroking her large head. She licked his fingers, sniffing them beforehand with curiosity and he thought with a smile that she had smelt her scent.

"I saw her today, Vhagar. I saw my little girl." He hummed, scratching her behind the ear, letting her big furry body lie beside him on the bedding.

And then she called to him, furious and indignant, demanding an explanation.

Something about the way she spoke made him think she was charming when she was angry, surprising him with her directness.

However, this made him the one who wrote to her every day from then on, sending her pictures of Vhagar, and although she did not write back to him, he was happy.

He knew that she read his messages and thus he was able to convey his feelings to her, making her realise that there was not a moment that he did not think or miss her.

And then he found an envelope in his letter box with the University's logo on it, and for the first time in years he felt an almost childlike excitement as he ran up the stairs to his flat, thinking that maybe things were finally going to change in his life.

He felt his hands all trembling with emotion as he pulled a piece of paper from the inside and began to read, his heart in his throat when it became clear that his dream had come true.

He had passed.

He got into University.

He didn't know why he called her right away, walking back and forth across his room, smiling like a fool because he had made it, made it, made it.

"Aemond, you can't call me. Is something wrong?"

"I got in. I passed the exam." He said immediately, feeling euphoria, feeling joy, feeling satisfaction.

He wanted to experience it only with her, because only she could understand him, only her words, her appreciation, her joy could give him what he wanted.

"I'm proud of you. I really am." She confessed finally making him feel like bursting into tears, feeling for a moment he ran out of words, his heart pounding like crazy.

"Let's meet to celebrate. Please."

"No."

"Just for a moment. In a public place, in a restaurant, in a café. Wherever you want, wherever you feel safe." He begged, needing her now, her warm gaze, her hand clasped over his, her closeness, her, her, her.

"I can't, Aemond. You know I can't. I will always support you, including about your studies, but after what has happened I can't trust you." She confessed in a trembling voice.

He swallowed hard, feeling with shame that he had turned all red with emotion, and nodded his head, thinking with despair that he understood what she meant, feeling empty.

"– forgive me – I had no right to ask you to do this – it was a mistake resulting from my selfishness – thank you for everything –" He said.

"– Aemond –" She mumbled out in pain, but he hung up, or she would have heard his uneven, heavy breath, the effect of the tears that ran down his face and of which he was so ashamed.

How could he have been so naive to think that she would forgive him?

Would he forgive her if she did the same to him?

He tore up the card the University had sent him, thinking with regret that the sight of him in that building every day would bring back memories she wanted to forget.

He decided that there was no point in her seeing him, that he should respect her request, even though she did not at all want him to give up his dreams for her.

She was more understanding than he deserved.

Although he had never, ever done so, that evening he pulled out from his cupboard a syringe with the drug liquid he had given her that day when she had come to him at his request, wanting to help him.

He only used this narcotic in small amounts when he needed to fall asleep quickly, but this time he wasn't sure he wanted to wake up at all.

He squeezed his forearm with a special rubber band to make it easier to find the right vein under his skin and jabbed the needle into it, letting more of the drug into his system than ever before.

He thought he wanted to know how she felt then.

He imagined her terror, the one when, feeling him still deep inside her, she realised that he had tricked her, betrayed her, that he would do what he wanted with her and her body.

He felt like crying when everything around him blurred, when Vhagar began to bark, nudging him with her wet nose, licking his face. He, however, was only able to breathe, thinking that he was so monstrously tired, his body numb and heavy, as if it weighed hundreds of tons.

It seemed to him that it might have been months or even years before his mind began to awaken: the indistinct light of the lamps around him blinded him and irritated him at the same time, the loud beeping at his ear drove him mad, the stinging discomfort in his wrist seemed unnatural to him. He muttered in displeasure, twisting around, unable to fully open his eyes or rise, feeling dulled and frazzled.

"– no – lie down –" He heard his mother's voice, who had apparently risen from her chair, her familiar hand touching his arm. "– it's okay –"

"– what's going on? –" He choked out, feeling unpleasant anxiety and discomfort, everything around him seemed to be spinning.

"– you overdosed, Aemond –"

He spent the next few days in hospital, trying to recover under the watchful care of his mother and his sister.

He didn't know why he felt disappointment at the news that neither his grandfather nor his older brother planned to visit him, thinking he had acted like a small child merely seeking attention, why he thought they would care about his condition.

He didn't think much of it though, because as soon as he unlocked his phone, he saw three messages from her.

He had no idea what he was supposed to do, what to reply to her words, proof that she still cared about him, even though he didn't deserve it.

That same evening, when his mother was long gone from his side, she called him, making him feel euphoric and terrified at the same time. When he answered and put the phone to his ear he was silent, his heart deep in his throat.

"How are you feeling?" She asked softly, her voice full of uncertainty.

He swallowed hard, feeling somehow touched by her behaviour, by the fact that she wanted to talk to him despite what he had done to her.

"Exactly as I deserve." He confessed with shame.

"Did you… really want to do this?" She muttered in a trembling voice. He shook his head and laughed under his breath.

"No. I wanted to see how you felt that day."

Something in his words, in the way he said them made her draw in a loud breath.

"Your suffering is not my desire, Aemond. You hurt me, but I don't want revenge. I just want… to stop feeling this unbearable pain in my heart that I have felt in my chest for eight years."

So many unspoken words and feelings slipped through their fingers.

"I regret it so much. I told my grandfather that I didn't want him to involve you, but he said that if we didn't, someone else would want to take advantage of Daemon's weakness for you. And I believed him. I thought that Larys will actually try to do something to you again, but only now do I understand that it was a simple lie that I easily accepted to justify myself. Fuck, I'm so ashamed, baby, I really am."

He mouthed with difficulty, burying his face in his hand, feeling warm tears of shame run down his cheeks, trying to calm his heavy, ragged breath.

"My father took everything from me. I did these fucked-up things to other people for nothing. I mutilated them for nothing. The only thing he left me is the property by the sea, the same one where I lost my eye, as if he had made a mockery of me. I was so lost. I still am."

She was silent for a moment, as if wondering what to respond to his words.

"What do you want, Aemond? Truly. Be honest."

He swallowed hard, feeling that this was one of the most important moments of his life and he couldn't fuck it up.

"I want to study and see you once in a while. In a public place, so that you feel safe."

"And that's it? What about your family? About your business?"

"My grandfather limited my influence and responsibilities after I shot Larys without his knowledge. He no longer trusts me and doesn't assign me important tasks."

She fell silent again, making him feel like he was going mad with the uncertainty, his heart in his throat.

"The University Library." She said finally, and he grunted quietly, trying to calm himself down.

"I don't understand."

"We can meet in the University Library."

"Really?" He asked hopefully, feeling his heart beat harder, hot with excitement.

"Only there and for a short time. Once in a while. If I find out you did something to hurt me or my family, you'll never see me again."

The next day she agreed with him that they would meet in a side area of the library: it was nearing the holidays and most people were either outside or in the main reading room, so she decided that no one should notice or bother them there.

Fifteen minutes in which she was going to help him prepare for his first class, nothing more.

Nevertheless, in his mind it was his chance to prove himself and get things right.

To regain her trust.

He wanted to buy her a bouquet of flowers, however, standing in front of them he had no idea which ones to choose.

What if she doesn't like cut flowers, only ones in a pot?

Should he even hand it to her in the library?

He ran his hand over his face thinking that his deliberations were idiotic and only showed how desperate he was.

Then, however, he decided that instead of a flower he would buy her a strawberry lollipop: since she used strawberry gloss she must have liked the taste and could at least eat it, and he could hide it in the pocket of his trousers.

With this little gift, he turned up at the agreed time, feeling like an excited little boy, all hot and frisky with emotion. Indeed, he spotted her in the back of one of the rooms, sitting on the floor on special large pillows, leaning against the wall with a volume in her hand, bookcases all around her.

She had chosen a place where they would not be seen.

She flinched at the sight of him, her shoulders raised in a defensive gesture, as if frightened by his presence.

"Hi." He mouthed, not knowing what more he could say, his heart pounding like mad.

She blinked and sighed loudly, as if trying to calm herself, her gaze at once warm and watchful.

"Hi."

He walked slowly over to her and pulled off his jacket, laying it on the windowsill, sitting down next to her on one of the cushions, into which he literally sank because of how soft it was.

"I brought you my notes from first year. Read them, if you can't decipher something, I'll try to guess what I wrote. They'll come in handy for you before semester exams." She said immediately, as if afraid of silence or what more he might say, handing him some of her notebooks.

He nodded and took them from her, pressing his lips together, seeing that she had gone back to reading her lecture without looking at him.

"Thank you." He said, unable to do anything other than stare at her, at her shiny dark hair, at her gentle face, at her long eyelashes, at her floral dress fastened at the front with big white buttons.

They were both quiet, but despite the silence, broken only by her flipping the pages, he could feel the tension between them, her figure focused and prepared to flee.

He didn't know why he did it, but he slid a little lower and laid his head on her shoulder, just as she had done back then, during that holiday, reading the book about the Mighty Vhagar with him.

He heard her swallow hard and take a deep breath as his arms tentatively embraced her at the waist, cuddling into her like a small child.

He felt her twitch, her chest began to quiver as if she felt like crying. Feeling this, he stroked the side of her waist, his lips placing a gentle, reassuring kiss on her soft, fragrant skin.

"– please –" She muttered.

"– I have a gift for you –" He said, dreading what she was about to say. She involuntarily glanced at his arm as he slipped his hand into the pocket of his trousers and took out a rose-shaped lollipop.

"– I didn't know what kind of flowers you like, so I bought one like this – the sales lady said it has a strawberry flavour –" He explained and she swallowed hard, out of the corner of his eye he noticed a wide, sad smile on her face.

This sight broke his heart.

He pressed his forehead to her temple as she took it shyly from his hand, spinning it between her fingers, staring at it as if he had given her something precious, a ring or a necklace.

"I'll eat it later. I don't want to get the books dirty now. Thank you, that's very kind of you." She said softly and he nodded, his hand involuntarily from her waist rising to her face, letting his fingers run over the warm structure of her skin.

He felt her body relax slightly and they both let their bodies lean back a little, spreading out more comfortably on the large, soft pillows. He swallowed hard as she pressed her head against the hollow of his neck, as her hand lay uncertainly on the spot where his heart was beating.

He locked her in his embrace, kissing lazily the top of her head, feeling that he was completely hard, that he wanted her more than ever, knowing that he couldn't have her now, that he might never feel her like this again, but it didn't matter anymore.

She was with him, in his arms.

"Several of my father's men are dead. They were shot on your grandfather's orders." She whispered, and he swallowed hard, looking up at the ceiling, playing involuntarily with the curls of her hair between his fingers.

"I know."

"Did you have anything to do with it?"

"No. My grandfather restricted my field of action after we called the emergency services when you…"

He didn't finish and closed his eyes, seeing her again in the bathtub filled with blood.

They were both silent for a moment, taking comfort from their closeness – her hand ran over his sternum, making a pleasant shiver pass through his body.

"If your grandfather tells you to kill Daemon or my brother. What will you do then?" She asked quietly in a trembling voice.

"I will tell him to do it himself. The times when I was his dog are over and he knows it. He has no idea what to do with me. I'm out of his control." He sneered, sighing heavily, feeling suddenly tired and weary. His niece twisted and raised herself up on her elbow, looking at him with concern.

"What's your plan?" She asked, and he hummed under his breath, sliding his fingers from her neck between her breasts, playing with the buttons of her dress.

"I want to start acting on my own." He said cautiously, watching her reaction carefully. He saw that she tensed all over, looking at him warily.

"What do you mean?"

"If you think there's a way I could escape this world, you're wrong. Even Daemon didn't escaped it, he simply gathered his most trusted people and expanded his influence. I want to do the same, and I will start by taking over Heavenly Beach. Since Larys is dead, chaos has reigned there, and I intend to take advantage of it. Many of my grandfather's people don't like the vision of them having to work for Aegon in the future. They neither respect nor fear him." He said lightly with some kind of pride and mockery, running his fingers up and down her sternum with a smirk.

She had a penknife under her bra.

She shuddered and swallowed hard as he tapped his finger on the spot where his watchful gaze had spotted its shape, pretending he hadn't meant to keep his hand on her breast at all.

"– wise girl –"

"What do you intend to do with my step-father?" She asked in a trembling voice.

He hummed under his breath, looking curiously at her chest, slowly cupping her plump breast in his fingers, thinking how wonderfully it fit the shape of his hand.

"Nothing. I won't attack him first. For you. He has nothing to do with Heavenly Beach." He said softly, spreading himself out more comfortably on the cushion, feeling a pleasant warmth in his belly at the sight of her hand clamping down on his wrist, as if she wanted to simultaneously push him away and draw him to her at the same time.

"– stop – someone will see –" She muttered, looking around quickly to make sure they were still alone in the room.

"I want it back." He whispered. "I want what we had during that summer."

He heard her swallow hard, shocked by his confession.

"I…God, after all, you know it won't work. We can't. No one will accept it, no one will understand. We'll be miserable again." She mumbled pleadingly, feeling his hand move from her breast to her neck, burying itself in her warm, bare skin, her cheeks pink with emotion, her gaze hot and hazy.

"If you don't want it, I'll understand it. What I desire is fucked up, like my whole person. But I want you to know that what happened between us… then, when my father died. It was real. I've never felt more alive and fulfilled than then, being deep inside you. You were so warm." He said, brushing her soft face with his thumb, looking at her beautiful, puffy lips, the taste of which he longed to feel again so much.

"Aemond." She mumbled in embarrassment.

"I don't care how wrong it is. I don't care about morality. I've done far less moral things to other people. Making love to my niece seems to me the smallest of my sins." He confessed, burying his fingers in her smooth, dark hair, the tips of their noses touched as he made her lean towards him.

"Someone might say it's disgusting and wrong, but I only care about what you want. I don't give a shit about others. What they will think of me, whether I live by their rules or not. What can they do to me? Mock me? Fear me? They are already do. It's not about me, it's about you. I don't want to ruin your life." He said, shaking his head, watching her reaction, her eyes grew wide with shock, her lips parted in heavy, deep breaths.

The sight of her bursting into silent, helpless sobs broke his heart: his mouth began to place quick, lingering, loud kisses on her beautiful, rosy face, all swollen with tears.

"– please – please, I don't want you to cry because of me –" He muttered in pain, feeling his voice tremble with emotion, stroking affectionately her head and neck.

He pulled her body closer to him, wanting to embrace her, protect her, hide her from the pain that tormented her so much.

"This is just too much. I wish I could be a child again. To go back to that sea. To fall asleep next to you in that room. I wish I could feel again the peace I felt then. Your presence next to me. But I can't have it." She mouthed, choking on her own tears, making him press his lips together in pain.

"You have it. You have me. You always had."

She froze, looking at him with a hot, hazy look that made him want to take her in the middle of the library.

However, he decided that he wanted and should do something completely different.

"Do you like me?" He asked as one of his hands ran up and down her bare thigh, while the other was slowly stroking her head. She looked at him in silence for a moment and nodded uncertainly, trying to calm herself down.

He thought she looked like a small, terrified child.

"Very much?" He continued and she nodded again, breathing loudly through her mouth.

He smiled involuntarily, cupping her cheek, hot with emotion, in his hand.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

Her eyes got big, her eyebrows raised high as she gasped loudly, shocked by his question.

"This time I'm aware of what I'm asking for. What I want. And although I should, I'm not ashamed of it. I have wasted eight years that I could have spent with you, no matter how much we would both have suffered during that time. I want to suffer with you by my side now." He whispered, tucking an unruly strand of her hair behind her ear, looking affectionately at her beautiful, gentle face, all pink with emotion and tears.

"I wish I could trust you, but I don't know if I can." She muttered, making him feel a squeeze in his stomach.

"I know. I'll wait as long as it takes." He said, brushing her cheek with his fingers, wanting to comfort himself and her.

She nodded, sighing heavily, as if she had given up and stopped fighting.

"You can only embrace me and hold my hand. No kisses on the lips and don't try to take me." She muttered.

He chuckled under his breath, feeling as happy as a small boy, cuddling her whole body into his at last, feeling her pleasant warmth, her scent, her closeness.

"Very well." He hummed, placing a warm, gentle kiss on the tip of her nose.

He saw her frown and grinned widely, cocking his head.

"Your nose is not your lips, is it? Just as your cheeks. Your jaw. Your neck. Your shoulders." He whispered, brushing his full lips over each of the places he mentioned, leaving wet, hot marks on her bare skin. He sighed as he felt her fingers clench on his back, her soft breasts pressing into his chest.

He got his girlfriend back.

______

Author's note: When we started dating, my husband brought me bouquets of lollipops because I don't like cut flowers and I could at least eat this. I think it's such a sweet idea!!!

309 notes · View notes

a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 1 year

Text

Home is Whenever I’m With You

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x f!reader

Warnings: some angst, fluff, smut (18+) mdni, handjob, oral (m!receiving), sub!Ghost, sleepy sex? Ghost finishes early

Words: 11.7k

Synopsis: Simon is finally home and a few things need to be taken care of…

Link to The Roommate Series Masterlist

You are currently reading part 6 of The Roommate Series

Simon’s eyes fluttered open when there was a knock at the front door of the flat and he was met with you sleeping just inches from him, a sight that was incredibly unfamiliar to him but he had never felt more grateful for. He could’ve fallen back to sleep, he had never felt more comfortable laying in his bed than he did right now, especially as he listened to your soft breathing. He would’ve if he wasn’t so enamored by how much he liked the way you looked across from him.

He had seen you asleep before but this was something else entirely. You were asleep in his bed, you were asleep next to him in his arms as if this were something normal, as if the both of you had done this before.

You were deep in sleep, not moving an inch except for your breathing, and yet you still held onto him with the same comforting warmth you gave him earlier this morning.

You. It’s all he could think about now and last night, it was everything he had missed for three months on base and in the battlefield. You had been stuck on his mind practically the entire time he was gone, he had dreamt about this moment so many times and had hoped that once he was home he could have you fall asleep on him just like you had before he left.

Of course, that had been before he had been injured.

Simon stared at your face and noticed your puffy eyes. A small pit formed in his stomach as he was reminded of how upset you had been and his face fell. He pulled an arm away from you and dared to rest his hand on your cheek, holding his breath as he waited for you to stir. When you didn’t, he very softly, as if he weren’t touching you at all, ran his thumb across your skin.

He had never seen you cry so much. He’d seen you cry over university but this had been entirely different, this had been something that he wasn’t used to and it made his chest ache the more he remembered the panic in your eyes.

You had been crying because of him, for him.

No one had ever cried for him before and he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t expected it when he had run home to the one person he knew who wasn’t familiar with the wounds he’s gotten from the military. He didn’t want you to cry for him or because of him but unfortunately the damage was already done.

He had hurt you, intentionally or not, by coming home before he was properly patched up. He had been so desperate to see you one more time, thinking in his delirious state that it was going to be the last, that he had hurt you.

Not only that, he had ruined the separation between you and his other life that you should never come into contact with.

You saw his dog tags, which was bad enough considering it was impossible to come up with a lie as to why he had them around his neck, but worst of all you had seen the mask.

The one that enemies saw when they were about to die, the one that was covered in blood, the one that haunted the nightmares of those who managed to escape but not for long. The one that kept him strong and hid everything that was Simon, that was the reminder that Simon Riley is in fact dead to everyone but you or his team.

You had glimpsed the image of Ghost. Simon would run away if he had the chance.

He’d run because you didn’t need that in your life, you didn’t need the hardened, cold blooded killer who would do anything to get the job done, who you would probably look at with fear and disgust. He didn’t want Ghost to be known by someone who is his life, who was everything to him when the persona was the worst parts of him that should never be seen.

He’d run and hide from you because he knew that if you dug any further into who he is, you’d do it before he could. He didn’t want you to leave him and yet he couldn’t think of a life without you in it.

Especially as you unconsciously leaned into him, your warmth over taking him once more and bringing him out of those dreaded thoughts.

His eyes fluttered shut and he very carefully rested his forehead against yours as if he would be able to read your thoughts, as if he could wiggle his way inside your mind so you could think happily of him in your dreams.

A soft sigh left his chest and he situated himself to go back to sleep. There was no point in getting up when you were right there, holding him like you loved him, and when it hasn’t been more than an hour since the two of you had fallen asleep.

Another knock, louder this time and more demanding made Simon clench his jaw as he was reminded of the intrusion. He glared at his bedroom door and debated on whether or not he should even get up before he decided that he would scare off who it was before they woke you up.

Very carefully he untangled himself from you and watched you like a hawk to make sure that he wouldn’t disturb you.

His entire body was heavy as he attempted to get up. He began to breathe heavier as he felt dizzy once he managed to sit on the edge of the bed. He suffered too much blood loss because he couldn’t have been bothered to stay on base for a few days longer so now he was paying the price for his stubbornness. He should’ve let you take him to the hospital, especially now as he fought against passing out next to you, but he didn’t want you to go through that.

You would’ve been stuck inside the waiting room for who knows how long and the doctors probably wouldn’t have told you anything. He couldn’t put you through more strife than he already has.

Though, as he glanced back at your exhausted face he was sure it wouldn’t have made a difference.

Simon took a few deep breaths and pushed himself off his bed. He stumbled and caught himself on the wall before he fell on the ground. He groaned when a splitting headache hit him almost immediately and he thought about slumping back into bed, but another aggressive knock came from the front door.

You made a noise and he snapped his head back towards you. You rolled and turned your back towards Simon before you went still again, hopefully going back to sleep since you desperately needed it.

He let out a soft huff before he stumbled out of his room with the intention to scare off whoever was banging at his door at such an early time in the morning. He had to walk along the wall as every step felt like he had lead in his feet and he was sure he probably looked half dead, but he didn’t care. He hoped that it would deter the people knocking on his door, especially if it was one of the neighbors he didn’t particularly like.

Simon swung the door open with a glare and his heart stopped.

All three of his teammates were standing in the morning mist outside of his flat. The very place that had been off limits to every single one of them for the past three years, the one place that hadn’t been touched by the other darker part of his life until this very moment.

He stood there frozen in the doorway as his team gave him worried but relieved looks.

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re alive.” Price breathed out and looked him over before he placed a supporting hand on his shoulder.

The contact made Simon jump and he stood up straighter, narrowing his eyes at them as he tried his hardest to get his pounding heart under control. He prayed that you wouldn’t wake up now, he had never wanted you to stay hidden more than this moment as he gripped the door tightly.

“What’re you doing here?” He asked shortly.

“What do ye think?” Soap exclaimed a little too loudly and Simon clenched his jaw. “Ya fuckin’ ran out bleeding like a stuck pig.”

“We had to make sure you were okay and to drag your ass back before you bled out.” Gaz added and crossed his arms with a serious look.

“Let’s get you sorted out, yeah?” Price attempted to wrap an arm around Simon’s shoulder so he could help him to the car but he didn’t budge.

Simon shrugged off the old man’s hand and didn’t look away when his superior’s eyes hardened. He wasn’t one to push Price away often, if at all, and he could tell that his stubbornness wasn’t welcomed, especially since it had been a long trip from the base to his flat.

“M’fine.” Simon gestured to the bandages around him but Price didn’t look convinced.

Rather, he looked incredibly unimpressed as he crossed his arms and gave him a serious look, one that he often used on insubordinate rookies or on one of the sergeants when they decided to dick around for too long. He looked Simon over and licked his lips in deep thought.

He saw right through Simon, he always did. It was like the man had studied him his entire life, he knew everything from his little ticks to the way that he knew Simon would never run out from the base for anything. Nothing else but work was that important to Simon, at least, that’s what he thought he knew.

“You wouldn’t run off like this for no reason.” Price stepped closer to him. “You’ve been acting strange and I want answers.”

Simon thought of a million different lies he could tell him and he was sure that the old man would know that he was lying. Nothing would sound believable, nothing would make leave him the infirmary, half stitched back together and beaten bloody, except for you but you were supposed to be a secret. He was supposed to keep you safe by not saying anything about you.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything to get the heat off his back.

“Simon, what’s going on?” You called out from further in the flat.

Simon’s stomach dropped and his mouth went dry. He wasn’t sure what to do and he suddenly lost his voice as he looked back into the flat to see you rushing into the living room with the same look of fear you had just an hour ago. His eyes softened as he saw just how exhausted you looked in the light of day and if it weren’t for the fact that he could hardly hold himself up, he would’ve carried you back to bed.

You placed a gentle hand on his arm to steady him, your eyes full of worry before you looked at his team.

“Oh…hi.” You weakly greeted them and attempted to give them a welcoming smile.

Price’s eyes softened and he uncrossed his arms as he gave a quick glance towards Simon, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. There was a small smile hidden underneath his beard however as he looked back at you.

Simon wasn’t sure what to do. The cat was out of the bag now and though he wished he could tell his team to forget you and for you to just pretend that you didn’t just see a part of him that he never wanted you to see, he knew that was childish. There was no point in trying to keep up the facade, especially after everything that happened before this moment.

You stepped closer to Simon and gave him an unsure look. He could see what was going on through your mind and how you were putting the pieces together, you were too smart for your own good.

“Sorry to wake you so early.” Price gave you a polite smile as he outstretched his hand for you to take. “Price. Friend of Simon’s.”

“I’m his roommate.” You took his hand with a hesitant smile of your own and introduced yourself.

The gesture seemed to break Soap and Gaz out of their spell, they had been staring between you and Simon with wide but knowing eyes, before they introduced themselves as well. Simon didn’t like the way their faces had lit up either, especially when they gave him smiles that had him wanting to pull you back into the flat.

Truly, he regretted coming back home the way he did.

“I don’t mean to sound rude, but why are you here?” You wondered in a soft voice that couldn’t be mistaken for rudeness even if you tried.

“We came to check up on him.” Price nodded towards the bandages around Simon’s midsection.

You gave Simon an uncertain look as you came into closer contact with his work than you ever had before. You took a few steps back but Simon placed a hand on your lower back to stop you which had you giving him a nervous glance, as if to ask him if it was alright for you to be present, which hurt him a lot more than he wanted it to.

As much as he wanted to keep you a secret, it would be wrong to do it now that his team knew about you. He couldn’t control you or this situation so there was no point in trying to act as if there was a chance to recover from this. In this moment, you didn’t need him to keep secrets, you needed him to be truthful, especially after you patched him up.

“They’re not bad.” He gave you a reassuring look and rubbed his thumb into your back.

“‘Not bad’, he says.” Soap lightly mocked and shook his head. “Worked with ya for over three fucking years and all you can say is ‘not bad’?”

Simon heard you hold back a chuckle and his eyes snapped down to look at your face. He felt some relief when he saw that you had some of the brightness back in your eyes as you watched Soap grumble about Simon being ‘an arsehole’. Just seeing a different expression on your face that wasn’t sadness or fear was enough for him to let go of the fact that you were meeting his team.

“If you don’t mind,” Price caught your attention as he continued to give you a polite smile. “Can we come in so I can check on your roommate?”

You glanced back and Simon did as well, seeing that your eyes were glued to the mess in the living room. You glanced up at him and he knew that you were unsure about letting them see the flat in such a state. However, he shrugged and stepped out of the doorway.

“Sure.” You followed after him, practically gluing yourself to his side as you wrapped a hand around his forearm to steady him.

Simon couldn’t help but rely on you to keep him steady even though he wished he had enough strength to at least pretend he wasn’t in bad shape. It was nearly impossible to fake it when your warmth sunk into his cold skin and practically healed every sore feeling he had stuck inside his muscles. He couldn’t push you away, not that he even would think to, especially when he glanced at you and saw the deep concern that struck him to his core.

A pit formed in his stomach as you helped him sit down on the couch once more, a soft puff escaping his chest.

“Let’s see.” Price stepped over and sat next to Simon before he began to undo his dirty wrappings.

It was splotched with dried blood that got darker the more he took them apart. The giving pressure from his side made his eyes twitch as the throbbing pain came back. It was dull this time but it was just more on top of his exhausted body that had him just wanting to pass out to forget about everything since he went on the mission.

He looked up at you and his heart ached.

You were holding your arms closer to you as you stared intensely at his side as his wound was slowly being revealed. You dug your fingernails into your skin and he could tell that you were taking deep breaths to calm your nerves. The worry across your face made you look even more exhausted as you hovered behind Price as if you were waiting to jump in and help.

“This is a really nice flat.” Gaz spoke up with a calming voice and caught your attention as well as Simon’s. “I know Simon didn’t decorate it.”

“It was a little bare when I moved in.” A small smile tugged at your lips and Simon remembered how empty the flat had been before you.

“No color, right?”

“None.”

Gaz chuckled and you smiled, your attention pulled towards him and not Simon which let him feel some relief. The sergeant glanced his way and gave him a discreet thumbs up that he nodded at, understanding immediately what he was doing and couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful for his friend.

“How long have you two lived together?” Soap wondered curiously with that wide grin of his.

“Three years.” You explained and both of the sergeants' eyes widened. “I moved because I go to the university near here.”

“Oh, uni! Been to any parties?”

Soon conversation was flowing between the three of you, not exactly too upbeat but it was enough to distract you as Price took the rest of the bandages off. Simon had his attention on you the entire time, feeling a mix of so many emotions as you forgot about him for the time being.

He’d have to pay them back somehow, to show his gratitude.

“Ripped your stitches.” Price grumbled, low enough for just Simon to hear.

Simon glanced over at his captain to see the serious look on his face as he began to clean his wound and start rewrapping it. He uttered an apology that he truly didn’t mean but the captain shook his head as he glanced towards you, a slight twinkle in his eyes.

“S’alright, the pain is punishment enough.” He gave him a quick smile. “Just let me know next time, eh?”

“You weren’t supposed to know.” Simon flinched when he touched a particularly sore spot.

“Sorry, Simon.”

However, the captain looked anything but apologetic, in fact he looked a little too proud of himself for having invaded Simon’s private life. Though, Simon hadn’t given him much of a choice to do so and he blamed the fact that he was bleeding out for not thinking that Price wouldn’t come to find him.

Out of everyone, Simon would’ve told Price first if it came down to it and if this hadn’t happened. The old man was reliable to a fault, he couldn’t think of a time when he had thought he couldn’t trust him, so he knew that if Price had known about you from the very beginning he would’ve done everything in his power to get him back to you as quickly as possible. He was sure he was going to air more on the side of caution when sending him out on missions now.

Price finished bandaging him up and hummed at his handiwork.

“Should get you through until you see a medic.” He gave him a comforting pat to his shoulder and Simon nodded. “Ready to go?”

Simon frowned. He knew that he was going back to base the moment that he laid eyes on Price, but he couldn’t help but wish it wasn’t so soon. He didn’t want to leave you, he didn’t want to be away from you anymore, not after he was finally home after three months of self-imposed mental torture.

He just wanted to be with you and feel alive again. He didn’t want to be Ghost anymore, he just wanted to be Simon.

Despite this, he knew he couldn’t push his luck with his captain. He had already tested his boundaries by running out so asking him to let him stay would be too much. He also needed to be properly patched up or else he was looking at an infection.

Simon nodded and with Price’s help, stood up from the couch. He stood there for a moment as he let the dark spots leave his eyes and ignored the dizziness that came from it before he looked at you.

You looked at him with a worried look still on your face but seemed a lot less tense since Soap and Gaz had distracted you.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly and he found himself at a complete loss of words for a few moments.

It was a simple question, something that was normally asked in these kinds of situations and yet hearing it from you made him want to fall into your arms again. The way you had said it didn’t help either, not when you said as if you were prepared to do anything to help him feel better, as if you were going to wrap him up in a blanket and hold him close to you like you’d done before.

He felt his chest warm at the thought, at the promise of safety and warmth from the one person he loved more than anything and it made leaving so much worse.

“Yeah.” He sighed out after he realized he had been staring at you for a lot longer than normal again.

You offered him a smile but he didn’t return it as Price caught your attention.

“There’s a few things that need to be taken care of.” He began and Simon’s mouth went dry when he saw your face fall. “Simon needs to come with us, but I’ll make sure to have him back before the end of the day.”

Simon wanted to laugh, not because Price was lying, but because he knew that it was incredibly unlikely that would happen. It didn’t matter how efficiently things ran in the task force or on base, everything always ended up taking longer than originally planned in order to cover all bases. He’d be lucky to get back home before the end of tomorrow.

“Okay.” You clenched your jaw and held your arms close to your chest again.

Simon could tell you were fighting back a storm of emotions to make yourself look less miserable but you failed at it. It was easy to tell that you were upset as it was written across your face but you didn’t say anything, you didn’t complain, or try to negotiate something.

He didn’t like your silence.

“It was nice to meet you, we’ll see you again, yeah?” Price gave you a smile and you tried to return it as you weakly nodded.

“That’d be nice.” You agreed.

Price glanced towards Simon and gave him a nod before he gestured for the sergeants to follow him. He turned and walked out of the flat without another word as the other two gave Simon sympathetic looks.

“Yeah, we’ll come back around again.” Gaz made his way to the door as well.

“Ye won’t be able to get rid of us.” Soap offered you a fist bump that you accepted before he made his way to the door. “See ya!”

The flat was left silent as the door clicked behind him. It was like there was a dark cloud hanging in the room, the air was thick and it felt like every breath Simon took squeezed his lungs tightly. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to comfort you as you looked at him with tears in your eyes.

They were threatening to fall and he saw you bite your lip to keep it from quivering. You swallowed hard and opened your mouth to say something but when nothing came out you sniffled.

“You need a jacket…” You mumbled and left before he could stop you.

“Thanks.” He said when you came back and handed him one of his black hoodies.

Simon put it on and found his mask, making sure to conceal most of it from you as he grabbed his keys. He searched for his wallet too, and his gloves, and tied his shoes a little slower than normal as he prolonged the inevitable, prolonged the pain instead of ripping the bandaid off.

When he couldn’t find anything else to stall his departure, he came up to you and gently pulled you into him for a hug. He shut his eyes when you wrapped your arms around him and dug your fingers into the fabric of his hoodie as if he’d disappear.

Technically to you, he was.

“Get some rest and don’t wait for me.” He said in your ear and you sniffled again.

“I’ll try.” Your voice was strained and he clenched his jaw.

He pulled back and took your face in his hand, seeing that a few tears rolled down your cheeks despite the fact that you were trying so hard to keep them in. Every tear hurt him and he desperately wanted to be able to hold you for the rest of the day. His eyes softened and he wiped a few of them away with his thumb as he fought the urge to just say fuck it, and stay with you.

“I’ll come back.” He promised and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. “No more tears today.”

You sucked in a breath and let out a strained sob before you wiped your tears away. You nodded and took a few shaky breaths as you tried your hardest to stop crying.

“I’m sorry…”

Simon shushed you softly and placed another kiss on your cheek before he moved to your mouth. It was a chaste kiss since he knew that if he went any further he wouldn’t be walking out of that door, but it took away the rest of your tears for the time being.

When you broke apart he stared down at you with soft eyes full of affection but always deep desire. If anyone dared to take him back into the field before he was ready this time he would have to be dragged out of the flat, he wasn’t leaving for a long time and if he had to pull some strings for it, he would.

He caressed your cheek one more time before he stepped away from you. He didn’t look back as he felt his throat tighten up and tried his hardest to wipe your sorrowful face from his mind.

Unfortunately, it was all he could see as he shut the front door behind him and walked to the car his team had driven to come see him.

It was past dinner when Simon stepped back into the flat, maskless. His tired eyes scanned the now clean living room for you while the heavy weight of the past twenty-four hours pressed against him. He could barely move without feeling like his feet were full of lead and he was sure that had to do with the medicine the medic gave him, which barely took away the pain. He wanted nothing more than to collapse in his bed, hopefully with you again, but he couldn’t get rid of the pit in his stomach that worsened his mood.

He couldn’t disregard the fact that he had put you through so much turmoil because of his own selfishness.

He’d do anything for you even if you didn’t ask, just to make up for the fact that he

Before he could even open his mouth you walked into the room, still surprising him with your ability to know when he’s home even though he made no noise, and dropped his bags on the floor.

His eyes bounced around your face as you came up to him. You looked refreshed, a better contrast to how exhausted you had looked earlier this morning and he felt a little relief when he saw the small smile on your face. However, you still gave him a look of concern as you carefully wrapped your arms around him.

Simon didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you. He held onto you firmly, letting your warmth melt away into the exhaustion he had and he leaned into you. He rested his chin on your head and breathed in the shampoo smell from your hair, the overwhelming feeling of home hitting him so hard he shut his eyes as his vision began to blur.

Fuck, he really missed you.

“You look a lot less pale.” You mumbled into his chest after a few moments of silence. “Good.”

“Fixed my stitches.” He reassured you and pulled you closer into him.

You let out a shaky sigh and nodded before you buried your face in his chest. You were shaking slightly and he knew it was because you were holding back tears. He went to comfort you when you pulled back and looked up at him with teary eyes but a genuine smile on your face that made him clench his jaw tightly.

You were smiling. After all of what he did, you were still smiling at him and all he could do was stare at you as if he hadn’t stumbled in half dead and scared you.

“You’re home.” You sniffled and wiped your eyes. “Sorry…it’s just finally setting in.”

“Did you eat?” He wondered, trying to change the subject even though he was beyond grateful to finally be home with you.

Simon narrowed his eyes at you when you shook your head. He grunted when you gave him a sheepish smile and nearly dragged you into the kitchen so he could force you to eat. The pit in his stomach told him that you hadn’t eaten all day, which he hoped wasn’t true, but he wouldn’t put it past you especially if you had gone back to sleep.

“Why?” He demanded in a soft voice.

“Because I woke up an hour ago and then took a shower.” You explained truthfully but that didn’t stop the look he had. “I also wanted to wait for you…”

“Told you not to.”

“I didn’t want you to eat by yourself!”

Simon let out a heavy sigh. You were too nice, too considerate for his heavy and dark mind right now. He was exhausted, he felt guilty and like shit, which had significantly ruined his patience since this morning and yet you were being so kind to him. He couldn’t understand why you would still act this way after he had shown you what his other life was like.

How could you still want to wait for him? You should’ve eaten and just gone to bed.

“I was going to make ‘Welcome Back Dinner’ anyway.” You shrugged, still smiling as you slipped out of his grasp.

“I’ll help.” He followed you into the kitchen but you shook your head.

“And break tradition? No.”

Simon huffed loudly and stopped you in your tracks. His shoulders had tensed up significantly and he balled his hands into fists as he stared at you. He didn’t really know why he was so upset by it; you were an adult, you were choosing to do this on your own and not because he forced you and yet he couldn’t help but feel incredibly irritated by it.

He should be the one cooking for you and taking care of you. He should be fixing his mistakes, he should be making you feel better, not the other way around.

You turned around and looked him over with knitted eyebrows. You frowned slightly when you noticed how tense he had gotten and for a moment he wondered if you could read his mind just by looking at him. He wondered if you could feel exactly what he was feeling, if you could feel the guilt he had, the anger he had towards himself.

“Hey.” Your voice was soft as you came into his space again and placed a gentle hand on his cheek.

The simple touch made him flinch but somewhat pulled him out of whatever dark pit he was slowly finding himself in. The warmth from your palm had him leaning into you again as his eyes softened and he stared deep into your pretty eyes, finding himself lost in the concerned look you gave him as you gently ran your thumb across his cheek.

You ran your free hand down his arm and grabbed his hand without breaking eye contact before you carefully massaged your thumb in between his knuckles.

They were simple touches, but the more you did it the more he could slowly feel himself lose the tension locked within his body. As it melted away, he almost let his eyes close from how heavy they got as you gave him a reassuring smile.

“Let yourself take a break. I don’t mind helping.” You told him gently and he sighed as he leaned his forehead against yours.

Simon couldn’t argue with you, not when you touched him so gently and not when you talked to him with enough patience for you both. This was a battle he was going to lose since he wasn’t exactly in the best shape to try to cook anyway, just standing was already taking a lot out of him.

He didn’t say anything as he nodded. He didn’t pull away from you which made you smile as you slowly helped him into a seat at the table. It took him a moment to let go of your hand but he eventually let you go when he reminded himself that you needed to eat.

It was almost surprising how quickly you both fell back into the normal routine that you had set up when he came home. You spoke to him as you cooked, your voice gentle as you talked about what you had done since he was gone and brought him out of his head more than you realized.

He was grateful you weren’t deterred from your usual talk after what you had seen and especially since he barely had enough energy to respond to you like usual. He worried about how he may have ruined your normal life by barging in with his military life, but you didn’t seem to be bothered by it at all. He didn’t deserve that kind of leniency from you and yet he couldn’t help but feel like he was the luckiest man alive to be able to stay in this life of domesticity that felt foreign and familiar to him at the same time.

You made it so easy to fall into it, you made it easy to fall in love with this life that he had never had before. You made him crave it, you made him want it so bad against his better judgment and you made him want you more than he had ever wanted something in his life.

Soon dinner was ready and Simon felt more at ease as you sat across from him. Both of you began to eat and he found that he was staring at you a lot more often than he usually did as it finally set in that he was home and going to be for more than just a few days this time.

“I like your friends.” You said while you ate. “They’re nice.”

“They’re reliable.” He said truthfully and felt some pride knowing that they liked you just as much as you liked them.

“I was worried you were alone when you worked.”

Simon shook his head. He had been used to working alone often before Price had made the task force, and even after he had been in the task force he worked alone, but since Las Almas he had been more open to working with others. His perspective changed because of Johnny, much like how it had changed after the two of you began to grow closer.

Now he couldn’t really see himself working alone. He’d never admit it out loud that he enjoyed the company of his friends, or even that they were his friends, but he realized that working with others was also the reason why he was able to sit in front of you.

If he had been alone on this last mission, he would’ve died since Gaz wouldn’t have been there to save him, and he wouldn’t have been able to come back to you.

You would’ve been left alone, and who knows if anyone would’ve come back to tell you what happened.

Simon felt sick just thinking about that.

“No. We work together often.” He assured you and watched as you gave him a relieved smile.

“Good.”

He grunted and went back to eating. It was strange talking to you about work, he wasn’t sure he really liked it but he preferred these simple and surface level questions over anything else. He would much rather answer your questions about his teammates than any questions about what exactly he does or where he goes. He wasn’t prepared for that and he was sure it would lead to other deeper questions that would bring along far too many old wounds.

You went a little quiet and he glanced up at you. You bit your bottom lip as you stared at your plate, stabbing the food with your fork absentmindedly while you had an unsure look on your face.

Simon swallowed hard. He already knew that you were debating on asking those questions, and he found that it was hard for him to continue to eat. He cleared his throat when he felt it tighten, causing you to look up at him.

When you realized he was staring at you with suspicion you tried to give him a smile.

“So,” You began. “You have dog tags. Why haven’t I seen them before?”

“I take them off before I come home.” He replied shortly with a little more attitude than he had intended, but he could slowly feel irritation build up in his stomach, or perhaps it was fear. All he knew is that it was triggering something in him that told him he needed to either run into his room or shut the conversation down now.

However he couldn’t say anything as you gave him a slow nod. He knew that you were trying to lead up to the real question you wanted to ask but he was dreading the build up as well as trying to guess what you were going to ask.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Simon’s mouth went dry and he gripped his fork so tight that his knuckles turned white. Out of all the questions, this was one he never wanted to answer and he couldn’t believe you were asking him it.

Why did you have to be curious? You shouldn’t ask him these things, you weren’t supposed to know about this.

He glared at his plate and thought that maybe if he stayed quiet you’d just give up but he knew better.

“Simon.” Your voice was still gentle even as he glanced up at you.

“Because…I just didn’t.” He cringed at his answer and felt his stomach drop when your eyebrows knitted together.

He was acting strange, rude, standoffish. He was acting like Ghost, not the Simon that you were used to and yet he couldn’t help but fall back into that side of him as you tried to peek behind the facade, as you began to dig through him into the buried parts of him that were meant to be hidden.

You were searching for things you wouldn’t like, things that would turn you away, things that would make him lose you in ways worse than you leaving him. If you found out what he did, who he dealt with, how could he be sure you’d survive tomorrow? Or the next day?

How could he be sure he wouldn’t find you dead in your room the next time he came home?

“I’m not asking you to tell me what you do.” You explained carefully but he clenched his jaw. “I’m asking why you didn’t tell me. Do you not trust me?”

“I trust you. This isn’t about that.”

“Then what is it about-”

“Stop.”

The moment that the word left his mouth he regretted it especially as he watched you try to make yourself look smaller as you looked away from him. He had never snapped at you, never, not even when the two of you got into those rare arguments. He had never treated you maliciously even when he was upset and yet here he was forcibly shutting you down because of his own issues.

This was familiar, too familiar to a time in his life where he was in your shoes. He could scream right now as his heart went into his ears and he felt his palms start to get sweaty if it weren’t for the fact that he was frozen with fear.

It only got worse when you sat there in silence with a sad look on your face. You weren’t fighting back. You weren’t trying to stand up for yourself and he couldn’t help his mind from racing.

Had you been afraid of him this entire time? Did he make you feel like you had to be careful around him, to walk on eggshells because you were afraid he’d lash out?

Simon felt like there was nothing he could do to fix this but he had to do something, he had to try and he’d beg on his knees for your forgiveness, if he had to.

“I’m sorry.” He practically blurted out as he struggled to look at you. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“I pushed too hard.” You told him and he shook his head.

“Don’t make excuses for me.”

Simon dared to look up at you and saw that you were giving him a confused look now. He wasn’t exactly able to hide the panic like he normally could, which he blamed because of everything that had happened to him this past twenty-four hours, and it was affecting every thought he had.

Of course you were going to ask him these types of questions, you had every right to especially after his team had shown up. Keeping you in the dark after that, after everything, was wrong and unfair to you because if he wanted to have anything with you he had to be truthful.

“What I do is dangerous.” His voice was low and serious as he stared at you. “I deal with dangerous people. You wouldn’t be safe around me. That’s why.”

Simon held his breath as he waited for you to say something. He watched as you stared at him with a serious expression across your face as you took in his answer. He anticipated you to leave, to run away from the table and to tell him that you never wanted to see him again because who in their right mind would stay with someone so dangerous?

“Okay.” You nodded. “Thank you for telling me.”

He stared at you in disbelief. You were crazy, you had to be, and yet he couldn’t help but feel some relief that you didn’t run or spit in his face. Though, he really wouldn’t blame you for it if you did. He was still waiting for some kind of repercussion for snapping at you.

You probably wouldn’t speak to him for a few days. It would hurt but he was used to far worse treatment and if you were still around then he could deal with it.

“Let’s go to bed.” Your voice was lighter as you offered him a small smile. “I can tell you haven’t slept since this morning.”

Simon’s eyebrows knitted together and he didn’t move from his spot even as you did. All he could do was watch you put your plate in the sink before you looked at him expectantly. He felt like a spotlight had been put on him as you stared at him and he clenched his jaw.

He was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was waiting for you to disappear, to give him some sort of passive aggressive remark and leave him alone for a few days but instead you were waiting patiently for him to stand up from the table.

“If you want me to carry you, you just have to ask.” You teased but your face fell when he didn’t play along.

You stared at each other, your eyes bouncing around his face as you studied it for a long moment before he saw sadness creep up into them. He watched as your shoulders slumped and he tensed up when you stepped closer to him. He was still waiting, he was still preparing himself for you to say something to hurt him back

It took only a few moments for you to somewhat connect the dots, to see that he was anticipating something bad from you and you couldn’t help the ache in your heart.

Yes, you were hurt that he snapped at you but you were more hurt over the fact that he thought that this once instance had caused something between you. You were baffled by his unwillingness to give himself some grace after all that he had been through.

“Simon, I forgive you.” You told him with a gentle voice but a serious look on your face. “It’s okay.”

It couldn’t be that easy, even when it was you. You were just saying that, you were just trying to make him feel better when you shouldn’t. It wasn’t your responsibility to fix his mistakes.

Simon swallowed hard and forced himself to loosen up despite the fact that he couldn’t accept your forgiveness. Not yet, not until he made it up to you.

He stood up from his chair, hiding any of the soreness he felt, and stood in front of you with weak confidence as he thought back to that night where he called you for the first time while he was away. That was the only way he could make it up to you right now, tomorrow he’d do something different until you had truly forgiven him, even though you already had.

“Let me make it up to you.” His voice was soft, almost pleading, as he leaned into your space.

“You don’t have to.” You stared up at him still with that bit of sadness in your eyes as you placed a gentle hand on his arm which made him involuntarily tense from the contact.

“I want to.”

It was a white lie, because he truly believed he had to, but it didn’t matter as he carefully placed a hand on your hip and pulled you closer to him. His eyes never left yours as he studied your face, waiting for any sign of discomfort before he placed a gentle hand on your face.

He hesitated for only a moment before you wrapped your arms around his neck and he leant down to place a kiss to your lips. He started out slow, barely pressing his lips against yours as he tested the waters to see if this was something that you truly wanted.

When you deepened the kiss, he couldn’t help but let out a sigh as most of the guilt and any thoughts left his mind as you kissed him tenderly. You were calm after a long, horrible nightmare, peace within his mind as you moved your lips against his.

You moved a hand through his hair and he couldn’t help but give out a low resounding hum from his chest as you ran your fingers through his long hair.

Simon tightened his hold on your hips, his fingers digging through your shorts into your skin as he trapped you between him and the counter. He smiled when you let out a surprised squeak and placed his other hand on your other hip, giving them both a teasing squeeze.

He gently bit your bottom lip and stuck his tongue in your mouth when you let him, a fire setting burning in his stomach when you let out a soft, breathless moan. He explored your mouth again, loving the way you lightly tugged on his hair as he pushed your hips against his, purposefully grinding his hard on against you.

Another moan from you as he came into contact with your heat had him kissing you more desperately, chasing the desire to please you and make the past twenty-four hours worth it, to make you feel better, to make up for his mistakes.

He continued to grind his cock against you, grabbing the underside of your leg to get better access to your cloth cunt as he chased the sweet sounds that came out of your mouth.

He trailed kisses from your mouth to your jaw, sucking and licking a spot that had you shivering in his hold. He kissed down your neck, doing the same until you were writhing underneath him as he continued to tease you through your clothes.

“Simon…” You moaned softly and it sent a shiver down his spine, the sound being so much better than he could’ve ever imagined. It made him kiss you more and grind against you even harder. “Your stitches.”

“Don’t care.” He grunted, his mind now set on only one thing, stab wound and pain be damned, all he wanted was you.

“I do…don’t want you to be in pain.”

His grip tightened on you again and he furthered his assault on your neck despite your protests. He could be on his deathbed and he would still fight to make you feel good, he could be ripped apart and he’d still do it. He just wanted you, he wanted you so bad in so many ways that his chest ached at the thought of having to pull back now.

This was the only way he could show you how much he loved you. This was the only way you’d forgive him and love him.

“You’re stubborn.” You breathed out as he rocked his hips against yours.

“I’m fine.” He assured you despite the fact that he felt uncharacteristically out of breath for such a minimal amount of activity.

He ignored it, ignored the feeling like he was going to collapse from exertion and ignored the creeping dull ache that was starting to fall across his entire body. Instead, picked you up with ease without taking his mouth away from your jaw, deciding that he wanted his first time with you to be on your bed.

“Simon!” You squealed as you held onto him tightly.

“Won’t drop you, promise.”

He stared at you with intense desire as he walked you to your room, kicking the door open. By the time he made it to the edge of your bed, his muscles were screaming at him to let you go from the overuse of his already exhausted body.

He managed to have enough strength left to place you on your bed softly before he hovered over you, chest heaving as if he had run a marathon. He could hardly hold his head up as he stared down at you with unfocused eyes as he fought back the extreme dizziness. His skin had paled again as he leaned against the bed for support.

You were out of breath also but for a very different reason and despite your many protests, you stared up at him with desire until you noticed the state he had forced himself into.

“Oh, Simon.” Your voice was full of worry as you stared up at him with knitted eyebrows.

You ran a hand through his hair, softly stroking his face to soothe him and his eyes fluttered shut from the touch. He knew he was in no shape to do anything with you but he couldn’t let go.

“M’fine.” He tried to convince you, dipping his head down to lightly nip at your lips, but you shook your head. “Please.”

He opened his eyes and your breath hitched from the look he gave you through his eyes. Desire, want, need, the only thing stopping him was you and the fact that he could hardly keep himself up.

He pushed himself more on top of you as you squirmed underneath him, giving him a similar look as you fought with yourself. He managed to run a hand across your face and down your neck, gently palming at your covered breast and watched you arched into his touch.

You keened and dug your fingernails into his shoulders, tugging on his hoodie to move him up the bed.

Simon did as you wanted him to, happy that you would let him give this to you, as he continued to run his hands over your body. He let you push him onto the bed beside you and he sunk into the softness of it, nearly finding himself consumed by the comfort of it before he was brought back when you began to kiss his neck.

He grunted and leaned into you, still trying to recover, as you began to run your hands over his body. He jumped when you slipped them under his hoodie, the feeling of your soft hands against his scarred skin had him shivering and biting back a few whines.

You touched him so delicately, so gently as if he deserved that, as if he wasn’t built from being broken apart in every way possible. You had always left soft touches against him but this was entirely, this was much more intimate, much more than just a lingering touch on his arm or shoulder. It made his heart race and his breath hitch in his throat as he felt you kiss under his jaw.

It was too much, this tenderness was too foreign and too much but not enough. He could already feel himself getting addicted to your hands against him, to the burning feeling that you left behind on his skin from every touch you gave him.

He shifted closer to you, wanting to feel more of you against him and involuntarily bucked his hips into yours again, eliciting another one of your sweet moans from your mouth.

He went to kiss you, to run his hands and feel you again when your hand ran across his hard cock.

Simon groaned softly and shifted his hips into your touch as you palmed him through his pants. Pleasure raced up his spine and he started to feel out of breath again as he swallowed any noises that threatened to escape from his mouth. It was just your hand through his pants but the friction was enough to have him rolling his hips into your hand.

He had never felt this good from someone touching him or from touching himself and he couldn’t help but shut his eyes as he gave himself away to the feeling. You had ruined him in more ways than one and he couldn’t be happier.

He ran his hands down your waist, dragging his fingers up your shirt against your hot skin and slipped them past the waistband of your shorts. His fingers were about to part your lips and he felt his stomach flip at the thought, until you pulled away from him entirely.

Simon nearly pouted from your lack of touch and opened his eyes to see you in a beautiful daze. He stared at you unsure of why you stopped but he didn’t try to reach out to you again as you stared at him with intense need while you panted.

“Touch me and I’ll stop.” You shook your head and Simon’s eyebrows knitted together.

He was baffled and for a moment couldn’t say anything as he stared at you and your puffy lips. His eyes raked over the small marks he had left on your neck and he couldn’t help but grab your shirt to tug on it impatiently.

“I want you.”

He saw you shiver and watched as you squeezed your thighs together for just a moment. He clenched his jaw as he stared down at your clothed cunt, just imagining what it would feel like, how wet you were and what you tasted like. He couldn’t help but lick his lips at the thought and he nearly pushed you on your back so he had better access but you gripped his wrist tightly.

“No.” You said softly and the look in your eyes was still gentle. “Not me.”

Simon clenched his jaw and he wanted to argue, wanted to tell you that this shouldn’t be about him, this was supposed to be for you, to make you feel better because of him. He couldn’t let you do this, it was wrong and selfish.

“Let me make it up to you-”

“You don’t have to.” You interrupted him and placed a loving kiss on his lips that stole his breath away.

It was impossible for him to argue because you weren’t relenting with your kisses, you were making his head dizzy and when you palmed him through his pants again, he let out a breathless moan. You made him feel so good with just a simple touch that he could hardly focus on trying to argue with you.

He wanted to return the feeling, the desire and need to make you feel just as good making his grip on your shirt so tight that his knuckles turned white but he couldn’t bear the idea of you pulling away from him again.

You stuck your tongue in his mouth and he kissed you desperately, pushing his hips into your hand again as you gripped the hem of his pants and tugged them down.

He hissed when his hard cock sprung free and bit your lip a little roughly, causing you to gasp before you broke the kiss.

“Shit…” You whispered and Simon followed your wide eyes to his cock which was already leaking pre-cum out of the tip.

He knew that he was a bit larger than most and yet seeing you stare at it with bright eyes full of excitement made his stomach flip. Heat rushed across his face and chest as you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock. A groan escaped his chest as you gave a tentative squeeze, watching as some of the precum dribbled down his shaft. He somehow got impossibly harder as he saw that your hand couldn’t wrap around fully and it made his mind race.

Thoughts of how it’d look inside of you, how he’d probably struggle to get it to fit unless he ate you out like his life depended on it and what you’d look like once it did and how hard you’d squeeze him. He’d do anything to feel more of you right now, to give you the pleasure you wanted from him. If only he hadn’t been stabbed-

All thoughts went out the window as soon as you started to move your hand. Your thumb grazed his tip and spread his pre-cum over his cock causing him to let out an involuntary moan.

You stroked him slowly at first, almost like you were teasing him as you ran your fingers over the prominent veins.

Simon felt light headed as you sped up and the hot pleasure that spread across his abdomen was so intense that he couldn’t help but throw his head back as he gripped you tightly. It was too much and he could already feel himself getting closer even though you had just started.

“F-Fuck…slower.” He groaned out and you began to kiss him across his neck.

You didn’t listen to him as you sucked on his skin and lightly bit him, completely overwhelming his senses as you ran your free hand over his chest again. He was already incredibly sensitive as you treated him so much differently than any other time this has happened to him.

Every sound he made, every time he moved you kept your hands where he wanted them, made his head spin as you pulled out sounds from him that he didn’t even know were possible.

He had considered himself to be quiet in the past but he was being noisy and he thrusted his cock in pace with your hand. He couldn’t help, not when he jolted from the pleasure that was rapidly building up and not when all he could think about is you. You had taken over all of his senses which made it difficult to control the intense pleasure that threatened to spill over.

He was so close already. He was keening and whining for you, the thought of asking you to stop made him want to cry but he wasn’t sure if he had any self control, especially since he was already exhausted and he didn’t want this to end.

“Please…please slow down.” Simon begged breathlessly, his hand grabbing your wrist but he made no effort to stop you.

“Relax.” You whispered into his ear and he whimpered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You kissed his jaw slowly while you stroked his cock at a fast pace. You snaked your other hand up from his neck and ran your fingers through his hair before you lightly tugged on his hair.

Simon let out a low, guttural grunt as the band of pleasure snapped and hot cum spurted out of his sensitive cock. You stroked him through his orgasm, causing his thighs to start twitching and for him to jolt with pleasure as more moans left his throat. The pleasure was nearly blinding and he felt a warm fuzzy feeling inside his stomach as you continued to stroke him. It almost bordered on too much before you stopped and slowly pulled your hand away from him.

He felt heat rush across his face and entire body as he turned a bright red. He was quick to hide his face in the crook of your neck, panting heavily and still in a daze as embarrassment wracked his body.

Usually he could last for a good bit. He was a trained soldier, he had been in the military for a long time and had enough stamina to be on the field for days without sleep or rest, and yet the moment you had put your hands on him he was about to cum. It had only been minutes, maybe not even five and had already cummed.

He was so embarrassed, even more so than when he had kissed you on his birthday, and if he could hide in his room he could. This was one moment where he wished he had his mask on so you at least couldn’t see his face.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled into your neck. “I didn’t mean to…that was quick.”

You shook your head and somehow managed to pull him off of your neck. You placed a soft kiss on his cheek, looking at him through your lashes as he saw a fire in your eyes, some sort of desire that he had never seen from someone. It was more than want, it was more than need and he felt himself growing harder even as he stared at you while at a loss for words.

You leaned forward and kissed him on the lips tenderly.

The embarrassment slowly left him as he kissed you back, letting you explore his mouth with your tongue as he relaxed into the mattress and into you. He felt like he was on cloud nine in your arms again, especially as you went back to running your hands over his body again while placing little kisses across his face.

No one had ever made him feel this calm, no one had ever made him feel this relaxed. It was more than just the heat of desire and the want for more of that rushing pleasure, this was tenderness that had him feeling safe.

You made him feel safe. You were safety.

If it weren’t for the fact that you were kissing him, he probably would’ve fallen asleep into hopefully a dreamless state where he could enjoy you beside him, but luckily you were still kissing him.

You still wanted him.

Simon wanted to return the favor. He inched his hands to your waist, ready to feel how wet you were and hopefully see what you would look like when he slid his fingers inside of you. He wanted to make you tremble with just his fingers like how you had done for him.

You pulled away from him however leaned your head down to his cock.

His eyes widened and his cock twitched when he felt your hot breath fan across the head of his cock. Heat raced across him as you pushed his hips down on the bed to give you better access to him and he gripped the blanket beneath him as if his life depended on it.

He couldn’t quite believe you were about to give him head and normally he wouldn't complain, but he still had some of that guilt stuck inside of him from earlier.

“You don’t-”

“Someone has to clean up the mess.”

You don’t try to hide the twinkle in your eye as you glance up at his wide eyes. You somehow look innocent yet devilish at the same time and all Simon could think was that you were going to be the death of him.

He left out a long heavy sigh when you ran your tongue from the bottom of his length to the tip. His eyes were stuck on yours as you gave his cock kittens lick, taking the cum into your mouth before you wrapped your fingers around him again. A strangled moan left his throat as you slowly began to stroke him again as you left small kisses all over him, purposefully avoiding the tip as you cleaned him up.

Simon became a panting mess as you tease him. He looked down at you with lidded eyes as you continued to work him up slower than before all while staring at him with heated eyes. He bucked his hips to try to get more friction but you placed a hand on his pelvis and pushed him down.

“Stop teasing…” He groaned and you smiled.

You gave him a few more kisses before you wrapped your lips around his sensitive tip, your hot wet mouth causing a short circuit within his mind.

He moaned loudly as your tongue worked against him and his hand shot to the back of your head. He didn’t push you down but somehow holding you was enough to ground him as you slowly sunk your mouth further down onto his cock. It felt like all of the air in his lungs had been knocked out as he felt your tongue run over the veins on his cock.

You tried to sink further. He grunted when he felt the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat and nearly came again when you gagged around him. He tugged on your hair to stop you, luckily you listened to him this time before you hollowed out your cheeks and began to bob your head up and down.

Simon threw his head back as you began to suck. He felt himself flush from the wet sounds of you taking in your mouth and he writhed against you, trying his hardest to not buck his hips into you as you stroked the parts of him you couldn’t reach.

He was still sensitive from his last orgasm but this felt so much more than overstimulation. Electricity raced through his body and his muscles twitched as you bobbed your head faster, your eyes never leaving his. The feeling was too much and he tightened his grip in your hair when you hummed, his eyes fluttering shut from the extra stimulation.

A string of incoherent words left his mouth, he could hardly think to even say anything as you sucked his cock as if your life depended on it. Pleasure built up inside of him quickly and he let out whimpers the more you continued but he was beyond caring.

He was lost in the pleasure, lost in the feeling of your mouth, lost in the feeling of you.

Before long he was close again and when you swiped your tongue across his slit, his hips bucked involuntarily, causing you to gag. He apologized to you, barely above a breathless mumble but you only hummed, which caused him to do it again, and stared up at him with tears in your eyes.

You sped up and he let out a string of curses, unable to control whatever escaped his mouth.

“Gonna…” His voice got stuck in his throat and that was the only warning you got as his hot cum seeped into your mouth.

Simon’s eyes rolled back and he let out a low groan. He could hardly catch his breath as he felt you swallow everything that was given to you. His legs shook underneath you as you ran your hands down them soothingly, helping him come down from his intense orgasm while you kept your mouth on his.

His chest heaved up and down while extreme exhaustion hit over him. He could hardly open his eyes to watch you release his cock from your mouth and pull his pants back up. He felt so incredibly tired but he wasn’t ready to fall asleep.

He removed his hand from the back of your head and grabbed your wristing, using the last of his strength to pull you up to him before he smashed his lips against yours.

The kiss was sloppy and he could taste himself on your tongue which made him hold onto you even tighter. He breathed heavily into your mouth as you gripped his hoodie and gently pushed him further into the mattress.

When you both broke apart, he stared up at you with sleepy eyes as you placed a hand on his cheek. He felt a smile spread across his face that you mirrored before you settled next to him, wrapping your arms carefully around his abdomen to make sure you didn’t touch his wound.

The only thing on Simon’s mind as he drifted off to sleep was how loving you looked at him and how safe you made him feel.

Link to part 7

A/N: Alternatively, you meet the family and Price has a Proud Dad moment tm also this is my first time writing a bj scene so bare with me

The tag list is closed!! I am so happy that so many of you want to be tagged for this story but I will not be accepting anymore requests to tag people in this series since this list has gotten long and it's hard to keep track of how many I have to add! Sorry for the inconvenience!

Tags:

@kat-nee @alexwashere82 @suicidal-marshmellow @shuttlelauncher81 @poohkie90 @reiya-djarin @k4marina @mionacaped @igotmajordaddyissues @xxghostyx @pasta-m1lk @imstargazing @jacksonpleasestopkillingme @kgive @konig-is-bbygrl @lialacleaf @frazie99 @gremlin-ghuleh @spencerreidisbae123 @alastorhazbin @writingmysanity @lillianastuff @alastorhazbin @reid490 @lockleywife @sheepsel @dead-noodles @marshmallowtraver @sinclairbrosbathmat @sofasoap @crazyfandomist @iwmtfm @oiiviagrande @genesis1363 @revyjerry @guttabutta00 @greenkiki @d4z01 @quietlyignoringyou @mysticalgalaxysalad @almightywdm @maviee @lycheedr3ams @multitargaryen @fruitymoonbeams-blog @lilpothoscuttings @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @adriennepoison

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod ghost x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #mw2 ghost #ghost mw2 #cod ghost #the roommate series

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ilariyalavorowrites · 4 months

Text

Time enough for love (Bridgerton) Part One

imagine: A mission to ensure Kate and Anthony find each other during the social season of 1814. Time travelling into the past to ensure that crucial moments occur. However, you find yourself falling in love with the pair. It breaks your heart when it comes to leaving and returning to the future.

Warnings: Angst with an eventual happy ending, AU, Bisexual Kate, Scandal, such a scandal

Pairings: Kate Sharma x Reader x Anthony Bridgerton

Word count: 2,831 words

Universe: Bridgerton

Reader gender: Female

Author: Ilariya_Lavoro writes

Tagged: @agathaharknessfan96 @homie0sapien @a-lil-bit-nuts

Part one of ?

1814

Night of the Featherington Ball

It was over; the mission had been a roaring success, then why did you feel so damn hollow? You had completed every objective down to the letter and tackled each obstacle as it arose. Yet, you couldn’t shake this heaviness pressing down, refusing to budge. It was as if a lead tonne weight lingering here, chained tightly around your ribcage. A continual reminder of what had been. What could never be.

You shouldn’t be feeling like this; this should have been nothing short of a cut-and-dry race to the finish, straight from A to B, right?

This was where you meant to jump off, go home, and simply pack away any forbidden thoughts of them. You would report in one last time with your head held high and simply walk away. Never once looking back over your shoulder, in hopes that…

No, you could not think like that. It would not do. You needed to move forward, wading through the muddle of emotions that flooded your senses. You could not let them consume you, regardless of how easy that might seem at this moment in time. How effortless it might be to simply let the rush of a wondrous collection of memories wash over you, allowing the warmth and joy back in. Living in all that had been but no, that could not be.

It was never meant to be your life, they were never yours to begin with. The unexpected result of your actions was just that, a blip in time. A second that would rapidly disappear as soon as the clock hand inched forward. Time moved on without hesitation, and so must you. You had done your job, it was time to leave and return to your own time, to that one cold and barely furnished bedroom flat that you called home.

This might have been the first occasion that you had been called up to lead an operation on the ground. For you had to be part of more missions and operations than you could count but they were nothing like this.

For this was what you had trained for, the last ten years could and would not be wasted due to the simple fact that you couldn’t put those troublesome feelings to bed. You cursed silently as you began to pace back and forth.

For you had been able to separate yourself before, view them as objectives to be completed. It had been a job just like all the others. Nothing was different. Ensuring that fate's designs were painted into being, letting the breath of existence breeze through as the bright colours danced for all to see. It has been illuminating to witness the weaving of the threads upon the loom as it tightened and pulled this way and that until the artistry was revealed for all to see.

You knew what was likely to occur when you returned to the base. Your superiors would see what was plainly displayed on your face. Labelling you as emotionally compromised and needing to be fixed before redeployment could be an option. A visit to the Doctor. He who haunts and darkens the basement corridors where few would dare to tread.

His particular set of skills did indeed have their uses but the price was one, so steep that most would reluctantly follow through. Usually only with a gun pressed firmly in one back if not done voluntarily. That high price was relatively simple, you would lose what you desperately clung to. Any memory of this operation would be scrubbed away. Leaving a void where they had once been. A memory wipe, for it would be as if you had been restored to your factory settings.

It would be as if you hadn’t been selected in the first place. The last ten years would melt away, and false memories would be slotted in to create a new narrative—one without this infraction of the highest order. As your internal clock was wound back, all that had been would fade out of existence.

The situation was fraught, you were torn between your professional drive and your own desires. You stood at a crossroads, terrified to turn left or right. Either path would bear a heavy cost. Neither would leave you without a lick of damage in one form or another. You had no choice really. You sighed, resigned to the fact that your fate would be sealed with a click of a singular button. If you dared to press it.

Your finger hovered over the SEND icon. This was your point of no return, for there would be no going back once you had pressed it. The signal would be sent and the extraction would begin. The very notion of finding a place within their world was next to impossible. The relationship that you longed for was nothing short of scandalous. It would be ruinous for all involved but such desires were pure fantasy.

All you could do now was to burn the bridges that led straight back to Kate and Anthony. In that split second, as you ruminated on your choices and the consequences, weighing up all the little details and avenues.

There was a path, straightforward and painless at your feet. The true pain would be along in the days that followed as you waited for the Doctor to come calling. As the weight came crashing down upon your shoulders, pushing you further into the depths of despair until you simply could not say no.

For how can a wound of the heart bleed, if it wasn’t there, to begin with?

"All in the name of King and Country…" -----------------------------------------------------------------------------St James’s House, On the outskirts of London 2037

This was it.

You could barely contain the excitement that buzzed through your veins as you marched down the corridor towards the hanger. Your commanding officer would be waiting for you, ready to commence the next stage of the operation. This day had been just over the horizon for more than a few years, as instructions and neverending etiquette lessons were drilled into you.

Your role was vital to the mission but you would not be alone in the field. The others had long since gone ahead to establish their cover within the Ton. Now it was your turn. Your hair was tightly fashioned into what was deemed fit to meet regulation standards. No hair would fall out of place whilst you remain within these halls.

The tiled floors beneath your boot-covered feet gleamed brightly, as the rays of the midday sun shone through a nearby window. The building housing the unit had long since been converted from its original purpose. Most onlookers would have no idea what occurred behind these ornately carved stone walls.

This spacious building had once been a stately home up until the moment that the family who owned it fell into a state of financial ruin. The Department wasted no time in purchasing the land and all the buildings that were a part of the estate. Lining the edge of the expansive ground with razor wire-topped fencing to keep the curious out. Guards and officers posted at the perimeter to enforce the message that this was a military base of operation with a tight security detail.

The illustrious parties that these grand halls once hosted were often the subject of chatter amongst the ranks. One of the ballrooms had been converted into the mess, where more than a few found themselves whisked off into romantic daydreams. Imagining the musicians striking up a melody as men and women paired to dance the night away.

“Captain!” A voice called, pulling you out of your contemplation. There standing a few metres ahead was the source of the voice. Seeing the young private in his regulation uniform brought a soft smile to your lips. This young recruit nervously returned the gesture as you quickened your pace.

“Good afternoon Private” You greeted them, your tone even but tinges of warmth leaking through, trying to calm their nerves. You didn’t bite, well unless you were asked to.

“I was sent to escort you down by General Harkerl” You nodded, confirming and relaying your confirmation of the information.

“Then lead on Private '' You swiftly responded, as the young recruit turned on their heel and walked away. You followed after them through the hallway, climbing down the metal staircase at the other end which descended into the hanger. You walked in silence as the wide open space was revealed to you. Heavy-duty wires and cable ran the length of the Hangar with various and differing pieces of scientific equipment lining the walls.

The General in all her glory, stiffly stood in the middle of the structure. The stripes that she fought hard for, were proudly displayed for all to see and aspire to. If she could achieve that rank, anyone could. She had always been one of the role models that you held in esteem as you fought to show that you deserved to be here, to be counted amongst the heroes and veterans who have paved the way for you and all who followed.

As you stepped off the stairs and onto the marble floor below, the Private halted before bowing to the General and then making a hasty exit. They had done their job to the letter, a quick escort and delivery mission for one as green and new as them. You could painstakingly remember being given such tasks way back when you had started out.

You had started from the bottom, grunts at the beck and call of your superiors, even small jobs held valuable experience. This recruit would learn this in time. Your gaze turned to fall upon the stern and weathered face of the superior officer and commanding force who had recruited each individual member of the team.

“Ready to begin, are we Captain?” General Harker, with a cool but professional tone, addressed you. “You understand the parameters of this operation and the consequences should you fail”

A shiver of fear shot through you, as you considered the chance that you might fail. No, you could not dare to believe that failure was even an option. “Yes, Ma’am” You answered, knowing that her gaze was upon you, reading even the slightest expression that might arise. Yet, you remain hidden beneath your well-practised mask, a calm, steady but neutral expression that held even if underneath it all truly you were an utter bundle of nerves.

She curtly nodded, a small smile broke through but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared before turning her attention to the small control booth off to one side signalling them to begin.

“Good Luck Captain, Safe Travels”

The Department had long since perfected the Art of Time Travel for Operations such as the one, that you were about to embark on. The organisation had been built from the ground up by a few remarkable individuals who had believed that it was possible to travel through time, and who had fought tooth and nail after each failed experiment. Until that one miraculous day when all the pieces fell into place.

You were aware of the existence of the founders but never had been deemed worthy enough to stand in their presence. They were a mixture of creatives, scientists and military men who were the best and brightest in their chosen fields and had long since retired and handed over the keys to the kingdom. However, their influence was still felt to this day.

A crackle of a microphone being switched on alerted you that it was about to begin. The journey through time. You took a deep breath as an unfamiliar voice was projected around the room, echoing and bouncing off the walls.

“Close your eyes, Captain, and Good Luck” Your eyes slide shut, as the familiar sounds of a machine whirring as it surged into life to carry out its task of transporting you through time. How it exactly worked was a highly guarded secret. On a strictly need-to-know basis and you didn’t need to know.

General Adelaide Harker watched from within the booth as you disappeared. The petite, stocky battle-hardened woman was firmly in her fifties. Her body was littered with scars that could pen her story but now all she could do was patiently wait. How she hated no longer being fit for active duty, her body faded with age and numerous injuries that had forced her onto the sidelines.

She had been hand-picked herself by the founders after the last bout in the hospital many prior whilst she was recovering from a lengthy and complex surgery. This had been a new lease of life, a way to serve her Country from the shadows. This operation was one of the few that the Founders had meticulously planned from the very beginning. Nothing had been left to chance. They trusted her to carry their secrets and ensure success with each of the missions.

When she had initially read through the Manila portfolio that was Operation 1814. She had laughed, confused by the need to secure a matrimonial match within the aristocracy. She pushed for answers only once. Only to meet with a gentle almost grandfatherly smile from the most senior of the founders Sir Theodore before he briefly spoke.

His words had stunned her into silence. To this day, she had never truly understood the meaning behind his wise words but she trusted his and other founders’ guidance.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------March 20th 1814

Your stomach felt as if it had been tied up in knots, as the sensation of being pulled through time and space slowly faded away. It was a bizarre and almost impossible sensation to put into words as your physical body was transported from one moment in history to the next.

It never was plain sailing, no matter how many times you had been through it. The nausea would dissipate in a few hours but the headache would linger on. You’d have to push through. Each person who used the method concocted by the Department suffered differently. Some found themselves unable to walk as their legs trembled, reduced to a feeling of being made of jelly. Others collapsed from complete and utter exhaustion, feeling as if they had been drained of all but a drop of energy.

You opened your eyes to find yourself standing in the middle of a wheat field as dawn crept over the horizon. Reds, Yellows and Oranges bled together as if they were upon an artist’s palette being blended for the next brush stroke on the canvas.

Fragile dew drops clinging to blades of grass which had grown in between each of the shafts of wheat. It was as if you had wandered into a dream or one of the many fine oil paintings hung on the walls of a museum.

These few precious moments were always when you could simply stand and enjoy your last moment to breathe and enjoy the stillness of the world as the sun rose to greet the day. A warmth seeped through, caressing and embracing you, the golden rays of sunlight danced through the treeline off in the distance. What a most wonderful morning indeed.

Remembering what you read before heading off to the hangar, you knew that the lead scout would meet you upon the hour of your arrival. Still dressed in your most comfortable combat fatigues, it was time to make a move before you were discovered by another.

The sound of approaching hooves alerted you to the small fact that you were no longer alone in the middle of nowhere. Was this a stranger or the scout? Concern rose within you but hearing your name shouted was enough to settle your nerves.

As the figure drew closer astride a chestnut brown mare, you tried to make out the finer features of what seemed to be the face of a scowling man beneath the hooded cloak. His dark gaze and blonde locks were barely hidden by the fur lining of the hood. He was dressed mostly finely for an early morning ride through the countryside and could easily mistaken for one of dime a dozen gentlemen just riding through but you knew better.

This was Lieutenant Commander Edward Wren, formerly of His Royal Majesty's armed forces. You had only met a handful of times but he was known for his dry wit and relentless professionalism. He could cut you to shreds with only a few words or a single look. This was not something you could easily forget. “Come, we have a few miles to ride and no time to waste”

Once he was finished speaking, he leaned forward in the saddle, offering a hand to help pull you to be seated either in front or behind him. You reached to take his hand, ready for whatever might lie in store. This would be thrilling, no matter whatever waited for you down in good old London Town.

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vcill · 1 year

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❥His Desires

Diavolo:

He is the future king of devildom, as you are the future prince/princess consort.

He will watch as you talk with nobels and charm them with your smile as you try not to let the vibrator in you distract the guests.

He will make you cum in anyway possible as you attempt to finish remaining paperwork.

He will spoil you with riches and gold, the finest fabrics and silks one could only dream of having, as you are being bent over the table, trying to finish your dinner as you are being pounded into.

You will take care of him, getting on your knees and sucking to release the stress from his dick as he sits on the throne, head thrown back in complete pleasure.

You will be at his mercy whenever he is in heat, allowing him to breed you, to use you, to fill you up as if you're leaving tomorrow.

You will sit on his lap, reminding him of what a good king he will be and how he makes you so happy everyday and night. He will beg for you to praise him more, acting as mere servant than a prince for your praise.

You are the most important person to him in the universe as he is to you. You're body and soul belongs to him as his to you. You both are at each other's mercy and hands when night and day arises, neither complaining about the treatment each receives.

You are going be fucked in front of everyone who tries anything with you, to show them all that only he can please and fuck you a proper future queen/king should be.

He is going to be a whiny, moaning mess in front of all nobels, maids and nights to remind them all that if they dare try to take your prince, this is what he gets every night, this what he deserves. And none of them will ever compare.

The future king and queen, inseparable by body and mind.

Barbatos:

Diavolo, the future ruler of devildom, needs the absolute best and flawless service.

With you being new and all, you wouldn't know what to do or how to do it, so of course Barbatos took it up on himself to train you properly.

Diavolo like his paperwork separated by date. Barbatos likes your legs spread open nice and wide so he can see that pretty little hole of yours.

Diavolo likes his coffee scorching hot in the morning and icy cold at night. Barbatos likes you screaming his name while everyone is awake, and quiet as a mouse when everyone is sleeping.

Diavolo must have his meals served to him at 7am, 1pm, and 7pm. You must be able to make him cum before 7am, 1pm, and 7pm.

Diavolo expects all rooms in the palace to be in top shape whenever court officials come to discuss business plans. Barbatos expects you to not cum until every single one of the meetings are over.

Towels, blankets, and sheets must be folded eight times diagonally. You must be able to be fucked 8 times, and cum twice as much daily.

Hourly, you must check in with the diavolo and see if he has any requests. If he does, you must complete them immediately. If wants you to drop to your hands and knees, you must do so wherever you are at and start sucking.

Whenever the demon brothers come to visit, you should treat them as if they were Diavolo himself but never more. Whenever Barbatos is around, you shall remember he has complete control over you and you will do what he commands.

And this, newly recruited maid/butler, is the start of you training.

Solomon:

Solomon has been around for quite a long time. So of course he's experienced quite a few interesting things in his time.

But it's always so cute when you find out something that he knew about decades ago.

He wonders... What else don't you know?

Did you know, you make a really lewd face whenever you're sucking him off? With drool dripping down your chin and the gagging noses you make as he's fucking your face?

Did you know, whenever he puts his dick inside of you, you always let out a little sigh/moan of his name? Even more on this fun fact, you squeeze around him when he does?

Did you know there's a special potion that makes you 10x more horny than before? And the only way to fix it is him fucking you with his nice hefty cock?

Did you know, you moan like a bitch in when he pounds into you? Jerking you off/rubbing your clit while he does so. Seeing how you struggle to take all of the pleasure but still beg more?

Did you know he probably keeps a book hidden away with all these facts and may randomly read them to you one day, with you having no room to say it's untrue?

Solomon loves it whenever you're curious ♡, you're curiosity and Innocence about the world and universe is just so appealing to him. And to watch you break whenever he ruins you're body in a way you've never imagined...

He's a commander of 72 demons for reason you know.

Simeon:

He knows more than angel probably should.

He knows he shouldn't be staring at your uniform whenever you bent over to pick something up, or when you're shirt rised up a little and he could see your cute stomach.

He knows that as an angel of the celestial realm, he should completely be at your mercy as you fuck him like there's no tomorrow.

He's always been used to being bossed around, commanded to do a task, watch over luke. It became the normal for him.

So why did it feel so different, so good, whenever you asked him to do such a simple task as to grab you a soda? To help you do your homework? Run an errand for you at the store?

Why did it feel so good as he asked for your permission to do certain task and the pleasure of you saying yes or no filled him so greatly?

Why did he want you to completely ruin him?

He wants to be corrupted, to see what the demon brothers have been experiencing all these years. He wants to forget about Michael and the celestial realm as you prevent his orgasm the 5th time that night.

He wants to be on his hands and knees as you sit there watching him he pathetic all for your pleasure, all for you to praise and degrade him.

So won't you give him that? Won't you see how he acts and feels whenever you ask him to do something for you?

Don't you want him to be at your mercy? Then do it. Ask him, tell him, demand him to do whatever you please and like while defiling his name.

Let him be the disgrace of angel he truly is.

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baronessvonglitter · 19 days

Text

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 17 🍒 "What is and What Should Never Be"

pre-outbreak! au!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 5,924

Summary: Reconnecting with Joel is easy, but things take a turn when you spot a man you never thought you'd see again.

(Warnings contain spoilers, so check beneath the cut if you dare to peek)

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 18-19, Joel is 35-36), set in September 2003, angst, family drama, drunk dialing, phone sex, oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v sex, alcohol drinking (only Joel), reader runs into her estranged father who now has a new family, Joel once again using his fists to solve problems which gets him arrested, mentions of blood and gore after a fight (later mention of broken nose and needing stitches), Joel's guilt causes him to break up with you once and for all, reader refuses to take care of herself as a self-inflicted punishment, no use of y/n (if I've left anything out please let me know)

Author's note: this took forever to write because honestly a big part of me didn't want to do it. Thank you for sticking with me, those of you who have been reading from the start!

Series Masterlist

"Stay."

That word haunts you, so varied in its meaning. Stay of execution. Please stay for lunch. You chose to stay with your mom despite the fact that Joel asked you to stay with him in Austin.

It's the first thing you think about when you wake up each morning. That stupid word, haunting you like a specter. And there's that little voice in the back of your head that taunts: 'You could be with him right now, waking up next to him, the warmth of his arms enveloping you as he nuzzles your neck, rousing you with a firm morning hard-on before you have to get up to go your separate ways for the day.'

Then you remember the reason you left him in the first place. It makes you sick to your stomach to think that everything he'd done with you had only been a repeat session of what he'd done with your mom. Who, by the way, has fussed over you since you moved back in. You took a pregnancy test at her behest, giving a silent sigh of relief when the results read negative.

She hounded you for details, of which you gave her none. Her jealousy was disgusting to you, and pitiable. And though you shared a man with this woman, unknowingly, the only difference was you'd given your heart and she had not.

You walk on eggshells around her for the first few days, unsure how to navigate this new territory. You're not sure how to move on from here, unwilling to address what happened yet desperately wanting a sounding board. You can't talk to the problem about the problem. You feel like a prisoner in your own home, deprived of the love you should have been given years ago that instead has become suspicion and doubt. You weren't even allowed to attend your friend's wedding because your mom thought it was in bad taste to attend a ceremony for such a young couple. Even though she herself got married younger.

Meanwhile your phone stays quiet, no calls or texts from Joel, but Sofia is kind enough to give you details. Unfortunately it's quiet on their end. She's still with Tommy, having finally succumbed to being in a relationship despite her initial misgivings. She only sees Joel now and then, and he smiles hello or good evening to her, but that's it. Sarah has been hanging out with new friends and seems happy.

Your stomach twists in knots at Sarah's deceptiveness. You can't help but wonder if Joel knows, if they're on speaking terms, but it's awful to wish that on a kid. If it came between your father and your friend, you might choose the same course she did.

By Labor Day you have your schedule to keep you busy: early British literature at nine, creative writing at noon, and a few other non-major related classes just to keep you from having to think too much on things you don't have a handle on.

At your new university you run into a few friends from school, people who either didn't want to leave home for the adventure of a lifetime, or couldn't get into the more prestigious schools in the state. It's still a good school, just not the one you wanted.

It was embarrassing having to tie up loose ends in Austin, calling Hailey at the cafe and telling her that you've moved, keeping in touch with friends only through texts, with meager promises to meet up soon, make a road trip out of it. You're not naive enough to actually believe any of it, but it's nice to come away from the situation with a little bit of kindness.

Your mom tries to get you to go over with her to her family's Labor Day cookout, but celebration is the last thing on your mind, least of all with her. You stay home alone, reminding her there's no way you can get up to any trouble. She's flattened out whatever spirit was left in you and she knows it but won't admit it.

With the house to yourself, you study in the living room, the TV tuned in to a rerun of NYPD Blue. Your short story that's due this week sits abandoned, half-written as your attention drifts to the screen, watching the cops interrogate a cute goth guy named Dio.

Your cell phone rings, bringing you out of your daydream. Sofia's name shines on the caller ID.

"Hey, cous. What's up?" you lean back on the sofa, a can of Vanilla Coke at your lips.

"Hey there.. babygirl," Joel's voice murmurs over the line. You sit up straight.

"Joel.." you repeat dumbly, in shock. "What.." your mind goes blank.

He chuckles on the other end of the line, and you feel a warmth in the pit of your stomach when he mutters your name. "God damn it I miss ya," he slurs.

"Are you drunk?"

"Naw, baby.. well a little." Wherever he is you can hear Tommy in the background, and Sofia demanding her phone back.

"Came out tonight and thought about ya.. ain't heard from ya and I missed your voice."

"Oh, Joel.." you sigh, different emotions warring within you. "I don't think that I should be talking to you.."

"Cherry!" Tommy's ebullient, voice comes over the line now. "Cherry, Joel misses you! He's been cryin'! There ain't no other woman for him 'cept you!"

Tommy's words become unintelligible. There's a jostling sound and soon Sofia's on the phone. "Sorry about that.. I guess the Miller boys are a little out of control tonight," she says, forcing a laugh. "Joel asked to use my phone but I didn't know he was gonna use it to call you." It sounds like Sofia's outside, away from the blare of the music and sounds of drunkenness.

"It's all right.. how is he?"

"I think he's lonely," she answers. "It was supposed to be just me and Tommy out tonight, but Joel invited himself along as a third wheel. Tommy says you broke his brother's heart," she adds softly.

You shake your head. "Sofia, you were there. You know the truth now. How can I forgive him for hiding so much from me?"

"I can't speak for him, but I will say that we all make mistakes. He's only human."

You sigh, plopping yourself on the sofa after pacing the room. "What should I do?"

"You care about him, right?"

"Of course."

"Maybe just hear him out. Then you can decide what your next step should be."

"Tell him to call me when he's sober."

She chuckles. "No guarantees he won't try tonight."

Joel calls the next day, and you call him the next night, with sporadic texting in between. You're treading carefully, talking about mundane things until it feels okay enough to talk about what happened between you.

He tells you the same story as your mother, and you steel yourself listening to the man you love talk about the life he had before he met you. He doesn't leave out the parts about other women, how he tried to cover his broken heart instead of facing it head on and healing it, how he lost the best friend he'd ever had over a woman who didn't care for him.

"She doesn't love you," you whisper into your phone one night, tucked under the duvet so that you won't be overheard by your mom. "She never did.. but I still do."

It's this revelation that brings you together, has you calling each other "babe" and "love" all over again. Before the end of your first week reconciling you're already whispering filthy things to him over long phone calls, your hands drifting over your body, excited to come for him as he growls his commands over the line, there you go, babygirl, just like that, come on your fingers.. now suck them off, I wanna hear it and you do come for him, knowing there can never be anyone else for you, no matter what.

"I'm comin' to see ya," he tells you one morning as he's heading to work and you're in the university parking lot.

"Joel, you can't-"

"Then come here."

"Three hours away? Four or five with traffic? You're crazy. Mom would come looking for me."

"Then let's meet in the middle."

You consider this. "What's the halfway point between Houston and Austin?"

"There's Brenham," he suggests.

"I've never been there." You toy with the cherry scented air freshener hanging from your rear view mirror. "Could we tour the Blue Bell factory?"

"That we can.. among other things." You can hear the suggestive smile in his voice.

You make the excuse that you have to do extra credit at another campus and are able to get away for the weekend. The drive is over an hour long, and your heart feels like it may just hammer its way out of your chest cavity the entire time. It hasn't really been that long since you've seen Joel, and just as you pass through Cypress you wonder if it's a good idea after all. But your heart is young and easily swayed to the will of your fantasies, among them being that you and Joel are meant to be, just a pair of star-crossed lovers who will find their way together again, beyond the chains of society dragging them down.

You reach the small diner in Brenham, taking a deep breath before you leave the car, then another before you open the door to the restaurant.

And there he is, in a booth in the corner. Your heart skips a beat before it lodges in your throat.

It's only been a few weeks since you've seen him but in that moment you swear it's been an eternity.

It's like a movie in slow motion: Joel rises from his seat as you near him, and without hesitation you go into his open arms, which wrap lovingly around you. The world stops for a brief, beautiful moment.

There's not much to catch up on, you soon find out. It's barely been a few weeks since you've seen him. Everything is the same as when you left, only everything has also changed.

"I can't stop thinking about you, about the way we left things," he says urgently, under the sad and lonely twang of the steel guitar from whatever old country song the diner's jukebox is playing. "But you said you need to figure things out, so I'm givin' you that space you need," he says.

His hands clasp yours across the table, between the half-eaten plates of food you've neglected in favor of discussion. "I meant what I said, babygirl.. I can't see myself with anyone else."

Your heart clenches at the thought, even as the rational part of your brain tells you it's impossible, that you experienced the strongest pull of attraction with a man old enough to be your father, and you both let your emotions get the best of you.

It dawns on you that you've only known him for three months.

It also dawns on you that you only have this one life, this one chance to be happy at all, especially now that you're under your mother's roof again, no escape in sight until you graduate and land a job. Right now, in this slice of a moment, you have complete and total freedom from things you don't want to belong to.

"Joel.." you whisper, and he clasps his hands tighter around yours. "Let's get out of here."

There's a motel across the street, the kind that serves wayfarers and illicit lovers, of which you and Joel are both.

Your fingers are intertwined as he pays at the front desk, and his arm is slung around you as you walk up to your allotted room. The moment the door closes behind you, Joel's self-control snaps like a broken guitar string. He surges towards you, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulls you into a passionate kiss, his lips melding with yours in a desperate collision of desire and need.

You kiss him back, desperately tasting his mouth, molding your body to his in a frantic need for him. His hands travel down your body, rough palms roaming over your curves. His tongue slides into your mouth as he pulls you close, his muscular frame crowding you.

"Yes," you whisper in between fiery kisses. This is the only thing that feels right, the only thing I want in the entire world. You lift your shirt over your head, shove your shorts down your legs before your hand teasingly slips down the front of his jeans, rubbing him through his boxers. A low, guttural sound rumbles in his throat as he presses his hips forward into your touch.

"All for me?" you ask, wrapping your hand around his generous length, your cunt already feeling its velvety thickness inside you.

Joel nods, his muscles tensing as your touch ignites a fire within him. "Only for you," he whispers, voice rough with desire. "I think about you all the time, in places I shouldn't," his breath shudders as you fall to your knees, pulling his jeans down the rest of the way and immediately taking him into your mouth.

"Like where?" you ask, keeping your eyes on him as you swirl your tongue around his cock, itching for him to take you then and there, but you've waited so long and pined so hard that a little teasing is in order.

His thick fingers card through your hair, gathering the length in a ponytail to gently guide you down on his cock. "In my truck, in the shower, in bed.." he grunts as your mouth envelops what it can of him, and he's careful not to push in and have you choke on his dick like he wants to. "Sometimes I even catch myself thinkin' about you while I'm workin'. You're dangerous, babygirl."

A thrill goes through you, an electric shock straight to your senses when you hear this. "And what do you think about?" you ask, pumping him with your hand.

Joel puts his hand over yours, stilling it, not wanting to risk that he's gonna explode after a couple of strokes, like some damn high school kid. "Everything, darlin'.. I think about every part of you: how good you smell, how good you taste, how damn perfect you are. I think about how I want to devour you, take you as mine and never let go."

"Don't let go of me again, Joel.. promise me," you say as he rises you to your feet, pressing your body flush to his, able to feel every contour, the hard parts of him that you dream about on a nightly basis.

His arms tighten around you, his eyes burning with a mixture of desire and regret as he watches your reflections in the dresser mirror. "I won't, baby, I promise." His words are both a vow and a prayer. "I won't let go of you ever again."

His hand glides up your back, his fingers tracing the ridges of your spine. "I've missed you like crazy.." his deep voice is filled with need. "Missed touchin' and holdin' you like this."

"No one has to know what it's like between us," you sigh as his touch ignites your senses. For all intents and purposes, no one knows that you're here, and once again you're a secret.

"No one," he agrees, bringing you to the bed. "Just me and you. No one else has to know, because this?" He slips his hands down your panties, making you gasp, and he growls in return to feel you warm and wet, welcoming. "This is ours, no one else's."

In no time at all you're sprawled on the bed, panties and bra discarded on the motel carpet. Joel's between your legs, pressing a teasing kiss to your mound, his fingers circling your entrance. As you writhe and moan beneath his touch, his tongue darts out to taste you. "So responsive.." his breath his hot against you as he pushes a finger inside.

A needful groan leaves your lips. You haven't been able to match this intensity with just your own fingers since you left him. "Don't stop," you beg. His breath stutters at your pleas, devoting himself to bringing you pleasure. His fingers and tongue work in tandem, stroking and caressing you from within and without. He wants nothing more than to draw out every sound you can possibly make.

"You taste like heaven, babygirl," his voice is rough and heated. "So damn good. I could do this all day, just for those beautiful moans."

Joel watches as you come apart beneath him, your body arching under the onslaught of pleasure he's given you, and his heart swells with desire. "That's my girl," he whispers. "Just beautiful."

You're left trembling, a complete puddle when he's done with you, and you've never been more satisfied in your life. "God, I missed that.."

He kisses his way up your body, leaving a trail of soft, tender kisses along your soft skin until he reaches your lips. When he gazes at you, his eyes burn with love and lust. "I missed it too," he says. "Missed touchin' you like this, hearin' you say my name, seein' you all flushed and breathin' hard. Drove me crazy not havin' you near."

And then he's inside you, burying himself to the hilt, fucking you like it's the last time he ever will. It's like he's twenty years younger, on the verge of coming within minutes, until he shifts you into different positions to stave off the need to cum, not satisfied to help himself to his own pleasure until you're too weak to mumble your own name.

You lose track of all time, lost in the feel of him as he fucks you hard, then softer, desperately, and as if he has all the time in the world. It's a blur of sweat and sighs and tangled limbs for the rest of the afternoon.

The next few weekends are spent in this way: meeting at the motel at the halfway point between your city and his, holing up in the room and only leaving to get food.

"I wanna be with you forever.." Joel slowly kisses his way down your body. The sun is setting, casting a golden hour glow in the room, and you're both resting atop the rumpled sheets and strewn pillows.

"Forever?" you repeat with a love-drunk smile.

"Forever baby," he reiterates. "I don't want a life without you in it," he whispers as he makes his way even lower.

You sigh his name sweetly. "Maybe after I finish college I'll find a place in Austin."

"Really? You'd move to Austin to be with me?" He situates himself between your thighs, a thousand kilawatt smile on his face.

"Yeah.. I actually really like it there.."

"I'd love it if you were closer to me," he sighs. "Plus payin' for these rooms is gettin' damn expensive." He pauses. "Nothin's stoppin' you from comin' back sooner, y'know.."

You search his eyes, seeing the vulnerability there, the love that has drawn you in since the very beginning. "I'll finish out this semester and we'll talk about it," you tell him, delighted when his eyes light up at the prospect of having you with him again.

"You could stay with me.. for good.. forever.." he says, kissing down your body with each word.

You lay naked in his arms, satisfied, yet always aching for him in your heart and in your soul. "Forever sounds so good with you," you murmur, your voice a little hoarse from giving screams of pleasure earlier.

The following week is your shared birthday, and though Joel is less enthusiastic about turning a year older, he loves seeing how caught up you get in planning a little getaway for the both of you. San Antonio is as safe a place as any, and not likely to be too crowded this time of year.

The first night, your birthday night, is spent traversing the colorful Riverwalk, romantically lit, placid, even among the neon signs of the shops, bars, and restaurants. You choose a place to have dinner, sitting on the patio and enjoying the mild September weather.

"How does it feel to be thirty-six?" you ask, watching him with hearts in your eyes as you rest your chin on your hand.

"Same," he shakes his head. "How's it feel to be nineteen?"

"Amazing," you smirk.

"Youth is wasted on the young."

"I see you finally got your watch fixed," you smile, tapping the glass face.

"That.. yeah, Sarah got it fixed for me, gave it to me as a present before I left."

The mention of her still makes your stomach drop and you go quiet.

"She misses you," he says. "Been talkin' about you a lot lately. She wanted me to give you this."

"She knows you're here with me?"

Joel shrugs. "Word gets around. Maybe Tommy said somethin'.. either way, I'm not keepin' you a secret no more."

You plant a soft kiss on his lips before unwrapping the small jewelry box he gives you. Inside is the missing earring you thought you'd lost forever God knows where, probably in a nook or cranny of Joel's truck one hot night, but here it is, the mate to the one in your jewelry box at home.

"Give her my thanks," you tell him, wondering if he knows she's the one who tore them apart in the first place. Talking about it would just ruin the night, so you slip the box into your purse for later. "Looks like I'm getting back everything I ever thought I lost," you smile, holding his hands across the table.

When the music gets too loud to talk over, you write cute love notes on the napkins, reading them quickly before the condensation on the table, courtesy of Joel's beer, smears the ink.

After dinner you stroll along the river, arm in arm, and he leads you back to the hotel, thankfully within walking distance. Once inside your room you can't keep your hands off each other, taking advantage of the night, of the anonymity of being in a different city. The bed is bigger than the shitty motel in Brenham, the sheets are softer, and Joel takes the little piece of chocolate that housekeeping left on your pillow and places it in your mouth, as his lips travel down your body to get you worked up with your tongue. He's promised you a gift but he's saving it for the end of the weekend. Right now he'd drawled, you'll just have to be satisfied with me making you cum.

Joel's up earlier than you the next day. Not even his circadian rhythm goes on vacation. But he's left a note saying he's going out to get breakfast, not content with with having the continental breakfast the hotel serves. An intrusive thought pricks at your mind: maybe he just doesn't want to be seen with you at a hotel, even in front of strangers.

You shake that thought away, getting showered and dressed.

On the way to the front desk to check for messages, you hear a familiar voice as you turn the corner. A middle-aged man, average height, wearing a Hawaiian print shirt and cargo shorts, speaks with the morning concierge.

"..the couple in room 478 was very loud last night. They kept me and my family awake, and honestly that's not the kind of thing I want my young kids to hear.."

You realize you and Joel are the ones in 478 that he's complaining about, just before your breath hitches in your throat. Everything, in fact, seems to slow and still as you approach the desk, nearing the man making the complaint.

Dad..?

He leaves the desk before you can go up to him, only seeing him from the back as he goes in the opposite direction, on his way to the free hotel breakfast. Your feet don't allow you to follow him, mired as you are to the floor. The concierge addresses you three times before you hear her.

"Miss? Is there something I can help you with?"

You've completely forgotten what you came here for, and meager words form on your lips. "That man.. what's his name?"

She shakes her head. "I'm afraid I can't give that information."

"Well.. what room is he staying in?"

"Again, I can't give out that information, sweetie. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"..no.." you answer, voice barely a whisper, walking slowly back to your room.

"Somethin's on your mind," Joel says casually, watching you as he sips his ice cold beer. "I can tell. You tend to wear your heart on your sleeve, babygirl."

The sun is high overhead as you both enjoy lunch on the patio of one of the nicer restaurants in town. You'd initially balked at the priciness of the place, but Joel had insisted. You ate sparingly even though you were hungry. The breakfast tacos from that morning had only given you and Joel more energy to fuck a couple more times before you decided to walk around the city and get some fresh air.

"Nothing," you tell him, faking a smile. But you can't keep up the pretense for long. "Well.. I think I saw my father at the hotel this morning."

Joel puts his drink down, his gaze settling on you, the most serious you've seen him. "You think, or you know?"

You shake your head. "I'm pretty sure.."

He says nothing for a few moments. "Small world if he's here."

Breaking the tension, you tell him about the noise complaint that you're likely to receive once you get back to the hotel, and it earns you a little laugh from him, and pleasure warms your heart to see him blush.

It's later in the evening when you're strolling, enjoying the city as sunset takes over, gold and purple in the autumn sky.

"I'm thinking I wanna give you your birthday present tonight," he says, nodding as if he's just thought of it.

You're a little embarrassed that your own gift is so meager, whatever money your mother gives you going to gas for the car or lunch for the week.

"Spending this time with you has honestly been the best gift I could ask for," you tell him, grasping his hand in yours.

Your sighting this morning is all but forgotten as you and Joel return to the hotel, arm in arm. From the opposite direction comes the man you saw at reception earlier, in a different Hawaiian shirt this time, but he has his arm around a woman you've never seen before, who's pushing a stroller with young twins inside.

He catches your eye and you see that flash of recognition before he artfully conceals it, looking askance, hurrying his stride and whispering something to the woman he's with.

"Dad?" you call out, despite the part of you that wants to pretend it's not him, that the world is too big and too wide to be conceivable that you'd find him here after so many years.

He ignores you, casting his glance away as he hurries, his wife looking at him in confusion.

"Chris." Joel's voice booms louder than yours, catching your dad's attention. You feel invisible as the two men who haven't seen each other in almost two decades, former friends, practically brothers, reconnect.

But it's not as nice as it sounds.

There's history between them that you don't understand.

All you can see right now is your father, with another family, with absolutely no intention to ever speak to you again.

"Joel." Chris's voice is low, indifferent as you've always remembered it, with a hint of curiosity as his gaze flicks between you and him. And you see the last piece click in place as it registers; while his brain lights up his eyes go dark.

"You wanna tell me what you're doin' here with my daughter?" he moves towards the both of you, a charge in his steps as his purpose becomes clear. Joel stands his ground, shielding you.

"It ain't none of your concern, never was," Joel grunts his reply.

"The hell it ain't," Chris grunts back in Joel's face. You sneak a peek at the woman he's with, maybe five or six years older than yourself, eyes filled with worry as she tries to assess the situation, obviously too afraid to step in.

"Chris, come on," she begs, her accent showing she's not from these parts.

But the men are like animals, neither one is going to step down first.

"If you're doin' with her what I think you are, you're in some deep shit, pal," Chris warns.

"She's an adult and can make her own decisions. And you got no say in her life after leavin' it."

"She's my kid, man!"

It's the first time he's admitted this, and a small thrill of victory floods your veins, quickly thinned when Joel retorts:

"You got a problem with it, come see us in room 478. Oh, and we'll try to keep it down tonight," he smirks, knowing this comment will hit him where it hurts.

What happens next you'll review in your head over and over in the coming days.

Joel barely dodges Chris's punch, but the force of the swing creates a gust of air that grazes his face. He retaliates with a jab to Chris's ribs, landing with a dull thud.

"Dad!" you run towards him, fearing for his safety, knowing firsthand how Joel can switch on to violence in a heartbeat. In the midst of the chaos you try to intervene, grab your dad's shoulder to wrench him away. In his rage-filled instinct he shoves you back, the back of his hand connecting with your cheekbone.

In your daze you stumble back on your ass, hitting the pavement as Joel rams into Chris, knocking him to the ground too. The woman Chris is with starts screaming as Joel slams his fists repeatedly into Chris's face. The sickening crunch of fist meeting flesh, cartilage and bone makes your stomach churn, all your own pain forgotten in the melee of the brutality.

Panicked passersby call for help, try to stop the brawl, come and check on you, helping you to your feet. But all you see are the uniformed cops cuffing Joel after successfully breaking up the fight, leading him to a cruiser, and paramedics coming to your dad's rescue, assessing him. You go to him, hovering over your dad, glimpsing blood and gore before he's lifted onto a stretcher and taken into the back of an ambulance.

It's late, past two a.m. You're curled up in an uncomfortable chair at the hospital, waking with a crick in your neck.

Your dad's going to be okay, the doctor tells you. A broken nose, some stitches, nothing major.

You go in to see him, passing by his wife as she leaves, giving you a sidelong glance, measuring you up. It's not known if Chris has told her about you or not, and this is something you'll never know.

He's sleeping, his monitor beeping steadily. The room smells like disinfectant.

And it's at this point you realize you have nothing to say to him. Any questions that burned in the back of your brain are now ash. The man in front of you is a stranger and has been for years now. He's your father only in biology.

You take a good long look before leaving, at peace with cutting him off. Wondering, asking, waiting.. you don't have the patience for it and he doesn't have the honor to offer you answers. Even if he does, you don't care to hear them.

It's a small relief as you exit through the sliding doors and into the still September night. You'd alerted Tommy to what's happened, and he should be with Joel right about now. Your phone rings in your pocket. Joel's number.

"I'm on my way. Are you at the jail, or-"

"Listen to me, baby.. this ain't a good idea."

You turn cold. "What's not a good idea?"

He pauses for longer than you're comfortable with. "Us, baby.. I'm thinkin'-"

"No," you cut him off before he can say anything final. "No, Joel, you don't mean that."

You're in the car, racing through the late night streets, back to your hotel.

"Listen, Joel, we can talk about this."

You're in the backseat of Tommy's truck in the hotel parking garage. Tommy has gone inside to get Joel's things.

"Joel.."

"You're just a kid," he says softly. He's unharmed from the fight earlier, but he's been through just as much as you have in the past few hours.

"I'm not a fucking kid. Would you have done all those things with me if I was a kid?"

"You know what I mean. You're young, you don't know nothin' about life.. need someone your own age, someone who ain't gonna punch every man who looks at ya with judgmental eyes.. let's face it. I've hurt you by hurtin' others."

"Joel, I don't care about them."

"You're still a little girl at heart, y'know?" he murmurs, his voice taking on a vulnerability you haven't seen in him before. "When I got pulled away from the fight, you went straight to your daddy. I can't fault you for that. It's how it oughta be."

You shake your head. None of this feels real. "I love you more than I've ever loved anyone in my entire life," you whisper as tears trace down your cheeks.

He purposely keeps his eyes away from you, knowing he'll break if he doesn't put a stop to this soon. "I ain't blamin' ya for goin' to your dad instead of comin' to me, but it damn sure hurts, baby. The way ain't made clear for us yet. I can't say if it ever will be."

You grab hold of his hand but he slips away from your fingers in a soft, almost graceful move. "You promised you'd never let go of me again.." your voice is desperate, begging. "Joel, why are you doing this?"

"It's over," he says quietly.

Alone in the hotel room, Joel's side of the closet now bare, his toiletries gone, his side of the bed cold.

You've cried every tear in your body, cried so much you vomited. As punishment on yourself you refuse yourself the necessary water to feel better. If you had never spotted your dad or called out for him, you both could have ignored each other, and Joel would still be here. He would still love you. You don't deserve to feel better.

You comb through the drawers in search of anything that Tommy might have overlooked when he was packing, any little item that would give you an excuse to call him or see him again. You hold onto that tiny shred of hope like a dying ember.

You do a double take when you see an unfamiliar jewelry box among your things. Black velvet. It's not yours. Your heart palpitates at what it could be, yet a part of you already knows, is already in mourning for what was lost. You force yourself to be strong and open it.

Nestled within, on a bed of white satin, is an engagement ring.

dividers by @saradika-graphics & @enchanthings

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alltimefail · 23 days

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This song, "For Forever" was on George's Edwin playlist (he said so in a Cameo) and holy fuck it's perfect for Edwin and Charles.

Knowing the current fate of our beloved show it stings a little extra hard to talk about, but not in a bad way and I want to talk about why that is. Warning that I'm going to wax poetic here, maybe definitely cry a little along the way, but please stick with me. 🖤

These boys have a bond that is special; it defies hell, rejects heaven, scoffs at the classic tragedies with a molotov cocktail in hand, rewrites the expected "bury your gays" trope (surprise, the gays came back as ghosts!), and says fuck a soulmate - I willed this, I chose this, I chose you, fate may have brought us together but I stayed with you and I'd do it again. No one can change that they are together for forever, two friends having a perfect day every day because the other one is there. They'll always have each other in every universe, they'll be together until the end of time and not even death herself can (or would) split them up. For Charles and Edwin it's just sky for forever, inside jokes, silly dance sessions, late night games of cluedo, reminiscing and confiding, puzzling cases, paperwork, infinite backpacks to organize, spells to master, books to read aloud (Edwin doing the reading of course while Charles enjoys), and long walks to wherever, whenever, because they've got nothing but time.

These two silly ghost boys will have the promise of endless possibility, content with the life they've made in their death, just letting the world pass them by for forever and it's everything, better than a life either of them could have ever imagined. Charles and Edwin have known so much tragedy and injustice in their respective lifetimes, they know loss intimately and are constatly fighting tooth and nail against the many forces that try to separate them along the way, but they still choose to do good, to help others, and they are happy because the reward is enough: the ability to bask in the light they've found in eachother is more than enough. Regardless of how you interpret that love, it is truly eternal and pure... so much so that it honestly makes some of the greatest love stories and epics pale in comparison.

All that to say, every time we talk about these two and tell their stories (through another television adaptation, through rewatching season 1 and analyzing every little detail, through fanart, through the comics, through their appearance in doom patrol, and so on) we only add to that cosmic universe that they'll exist in forever. Their story doesn't end with the Netflix adaptation, just like it didn't really start there either.

"You say 'There's nowhere else I'd rather be, and I say me too... we just talk and take in the view."

That line ⬆️ is the essence of the boys whole dynamic, and you know what? That is really fucking beautiful. The whole drive in this song - its steady, epic build and sensational crescendos that convey excitement, awe, a little bit of uncertainty, and an abundance of unbriddled emotion - is exactly how Charles and Edwin's dynamic feels and it's a goddamn treasure, a fucking whirlwind, a blessing to witness. Frankly the love they share is worth celebrating, it's worth honoring and creating for because it's breathtaking, pure joy, warmth, and unyielding devotion. It's a one of a kind story with two boys who will always come to each other's rescue, who will do everything in their power to make sure the other is okay, who will accept each other and pick each other up every time and love each other enough in death to make up for all the people who dared to not see the brilliant light they shined in life.

Netflix may not want to tell their story any more, but we can. We can keep making art, writing fics, supporting Jayden and George who brought our boys to life - and Kassius and Yuyu who gave us their sensational living counterparts as well. I know I love these dead boys and their alive girl companions and that their story will always mean the world to me. I love their love, the found family they've created, and all the residual joy and inspiration it causes; but most of all I love that they've brought us all together in our own little found family. No one can take that from us, nor can they take that from the writers, cast, and crew who put everything into starting this legacy.

So let's do what we do best and get back to our work...for forever, yeah? Maybe another streaming service saves our show (and that would he fucking mint, aces, BRILLS!!!!) but at the end of the day, fandom can immortalize this story.

There's still cases to solve, rights to wrong, jobs to job! No reason to stop just because Netflix mucked this up royally. 🔎💀

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genderkoolaid · 8 months

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Hello! Non binary here. I'm trying to genuinely understand how saying bi lesbians are a thing are not harmful to the trans, lesbian and bi community. I saw some of the bi lesbians history and this label seems to be something they used to say to identify that they felt mostly attraction to women but could eventually like a man / people that liked men in the past but now go as lesbians. On the first example, Isn't it just bisexuality with a preference to women? and in the second, lesbians with comphet. I understand the need to use those labels in the past, but now it seems harmful to use bi lesbian because lesbians are not attracted men and bisexuals are not lesbians. I have also seen that the use of bi lesbian was a reactionary push to the TERF movement of excluding men from queer spaces as in a way to "purify" women

While someone in either of the groups you described might identify as a bi lesbian, that is certainly not the extent of bi lesbianism.

I think the problem emerges for many people because they are viewing the definitions of queer terms as objective descriptions we discovered. From this perspective, people used to use lesbian in a more expansive sense essentially because they didn't know any better. But I dislike that; our foreparents were not identifying how they did because they didn't know better, their constructions of gender and sexuality are just as valid. And it's important to understand why those definitions formed instead of going “well it's different now so stop it.”

I'm not sure if you are saying you've heard TERFs came up with the term bi lesbian. I wouldn't be surprised, since it's a fairly common rumor. But it's very wrong. To give a very general history, “bi lesbian” came about to describe people who identified with lesbianism– in the sense that they identified with being queer, having some personal relationship with womanhood and loved or desired women– who also were multisexual in some way. “Lesbian” emphasized your love/desire for women as an important part of your identity, and “bisexual” gave nuance to that, creating visibility for bi people within the community. The outrage against bi lesbians came from the same source as the hatred for trans lesbians (of all kinds): radical feminist beliefs in political lesbianism, the insistence that being a lesbian is a political choice to end all personal relationships with men & manhood.

The idea that “lesbians, universally, aren't attracted to men” largely comes out of this shift. You cannot separate the idea that “bi lesbians” don't/shouldn't exist and the legacy of transphobic radical feminism which encourage black-and-white thinking and hostility towards Bad Queers who dared to love or desire men, be men, dress like men, or fuck like men (anything from BDSM to using a strap-on). This divide is artificial and we do not need to just accept it. Bi lesbians are not the source of harm, the ideology that insists on their exclusion is. On top of this, in many physical queer communities bi lesbians & other people with complicated identities are very easily accepted; the idea that it's somehow impossible for these identities to be safely normalized is just queer conservatism.

There are many reasons someone might enjoy the bi lesbian label: personally, I'm multigender and using a single sexuality label doesn't accurately express my sexuality. A lot of times I see people who counter reasons for bi lesbian identity by saying “but that's just being a lesbian/bisexual!” which is another product of this black-and-white thinking. The idea that someone else with a similar experience using a different label than you– or someone with a different experience using the same label– is somehow a threat to your identity is very reminiscent of the way radical feminism relies on patriarchal ideas that everyone in a gender group must self-police that group to ensure homogeneity. Someone with a totally “normal” bisexual experience may still identify as a bi lesbian, or use both bisexual and lesbian in varying contexts, because they feel it accurately expresses their personal sexuality & relationship to queer communities.

There's famously an Alison Bechdel strip about a character being a bi lesbian, but I think my favorite piece of bi lesbian art is this poem by Dajenya. It's a very defiant and wholehearted response to anti-bi-lesbian sentiment and how it harms people within the community far more than bi lesbian identity does. this site is a collection of primary resources on bi lesbianism, including a few interviews from bi lesbians which might be helpful for you.

#m.#ask box

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goldenseresinretriever · 2 months

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False Confidence: Chapter 10

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, anxiety, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: This might be my favorite chapter I’ve written so far 👀

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

“What type of flowers do girls like?” A burst of raucous laughter crackles through the speaker of his phone and Javy glares at the screen as he rifles through his dresser, looking for a clean pair of socks. The woman on the screen slumps over the wooden counter she’s sitting at, tears in her eyes as she keeps laughing and Javy rolls his eyes. “Isa, I’m being serious.”

“I know!” The woman looks up from where she’s sprawled over the counter, wiping tears from her eyes as she shakes her head at him. “That’s the best part!” Javy flips his oldest sister off as he puts his hands on his hips.

“Come on, Isa, help me out here!” He considers hanging up on her, but he really needs her help. She turns her head to make eye contact with the camera, still sprawled across the counter. The look in her eyes is a combination of mirth with a sharp glint of something dangerous and Javy swallows nervously because she looks so damn much like their mother right now.

“Tell me what’s really going on, Javier, and then maybe I’ll help.” Her voice is dripping with danger that urges him not to push her but dammit he doesn’t have time for this. He’s supposed to pick you up in an hour and he doesn’t want to be late. His mother raised him better than that.

“I have a date. I feel like I should get her flowers.” He blatantly ignores the way his heart starts pounding as the four-letter word passes his lips and focuses on the cool glare his sister is angling at him as she sits back up.

“With the girl you’re dating?” Javy’s brow furrows in confusion before it hits him. Fuck.

“Isa… Isa I can explain,” he stammers but the look he gets from her has him snapping his mouth shut so fast that he swears his teeth rattle.

“Javier Antonio Machado… you were raised by not one but FOUR women and we have to find out you have a GIRLFRIEND from the MEDIA?!” Javy flinches. A heavy silence falls between them before Javy dares open his mouth.

“It’s not that simple Isa, it’s complicated. She’s not technically my girlfriend, well she is, but that’s only on paper, she just…” He hesitates and watches his sister’s suspicious eyes narrow so he plows on. “We’refakedating.” The words rush out before he can avoid them and he watches Isa’s eyes widen and he keeps going before she can stop him. “We’re fake dating but turns out she’s actually really nice, and I think I like her, but I’m not sure because I’ve never liked anyone like this before. I don’t want her to get hurt, least of all by me, but it’s probably inevitable, and I’m really trying not to think about that right now so I’m taking her out on a date because I think she’ll like it and I want her to like it so I was thinking I should buy her flowers but I’ve never bought flowers before, I mean I have once but those were just from the grocery store and I didn’t really think about it, and this time I am thinking about it and that’s why I’m asking WHAT KIND OF FLOWERS DO GIRLS LIKE!” His chest is heaving by the time he finishes and he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. For once his sister doesn’t say anything and he feels ridiculous, standing there like he’s just run a marathon staring at her staring at him.

“Do you know her favorite color?” Isa says finally and Javy blinks a few times before he realizes she’s asked him a question. He shakes his head even as guilt bites at his stomach for never asking. She purses her lips in thought as she looks around her at the rows of pots and various greenery. “Well then, let’s get to work, shall we?” Javy lets his shoulders slump in relief as he nods nervously at his sister as she picks up the phone and starts walking around the store.

***

“Roadie these are really good!” You look away from the bathroom mirror where you’re putting the finishing touches on your hair. Unlike last time, you’ve gone as simple as possible. The green dress is elegant and you’ve elected for your usual light makeup, except for the slight dusting of gold Nat tastefully brushed on your eyelids. As you shyly regard your reflection you can’t help but feel beautiful.

You follow the sound of Nat’s voice to your living room where she’s examining the various canvases leaning against the walls. The space isn’t traditional in any sense, lacking any entertaining furniture such as sofas and chairs. Instead, you’ve repurposed the space into a makeshift studio, the space taken up with easels and tables, canvases leaning against anything and everything in various states of completion. It’s a little chaotic but it works for you. Truth be told, you’ve had more people visit in the last month than in the last three years.

Earlier, you’d stared at your phone while sitting on your bed, brow furrowing as you hesitated over who to call. Normally, Josie would be the obvious choice, but normally she’d be the only choice since you didn’t have any other friends. Tonight, however, you were faced with the possibility of options, your phone feeling heavy with the weight of all the new numbers you’ve been collecting. You could still taste the bitterness in the back of your throat after Josie had dressed you for your last date with Javy and how you’d had to explain to her afterward why her thousand-dollar heels were somewhere at the bottom of the bay. Before you could overthink your decision, you’d called Nat, inviting her over to help you get ready for your date.

To your surprise, you’ve become comfortable around her. She knows Javy, and slowly but surely she’s getting to know you, and as much as you love Josie, you can tell how much animosity she harbors for Javy. With every day that passes, you’re realizing that somehow you’ve started falling for Javy and while you’re terrified of the realization, you’re even more terrified of how Josie will react to it. Nat, however, you don’t mind. She’s only ever known you as Javy’s fake girlfriend, so if she’s going to judge you over any of your choices, it’s that, and she’s already made it clear that she doesn’t.

You make your way over to see which canvas Nat is looking at and your cheeks heat as it comes into view. The canvas is covered in swathes of dark shades of blue, silhouetting the shapes of the edge of the cliff and the roiling water at the bottom. The background is so fierce and dark that it draws attention from the tiny figures in the corner at the edge, curled around each other. You don’t normally find yourself painting scenes from your life, but something about the salt in your lungs, and the way the wind whipped around you as you became aware of your body like a live wire, has been stuck in your throat every since so you’d let the feeling pour out of you onto the canvas. You had meant for it to be a landscape, but the figures in the corner, light bluish-gray forms with no defining features, had seemingly painted themselves, flowing out of your brush before you could stop them.

“Thanks,” you murmur and Nat turns from the canvas to you, smiling.

“I mean it, Roadie. The world deserves to see them.” You squirm with embarrassment under the compliment but manage to find your words.

“I actually, I have my first gallery show next week,” you splutter. You haven’t told anyone, despite jumping and dancing around your living room when you received the news. You’ve dreamed of having your art shown at a gallery for years, a dream you’d thought was out of reach for the time being until you’d gotten the call earlier this week. “It’s not much, just a pop-up event for one night, but it’s something.” It’s everything. Nat blinks at you for a long second before she screams and jumps up, almost knocking over the easel in her excitement and she wraps you tightly in a hug, jumping up and down and you can’t help but join in.

“Oh, Roadie! That’s amazing, congratulations!” She squeezes you tightly and you try to force down the tears welling up in your eyes at Nat’s enthusiasm, trying not to ruin the makeup you’ve just finished. “You have to give me the info so I can swing by!” You freeze, surprised at the offer. You hadn’t even considered that anyone would actually want to come.

“But, but you’ve seen everything already,” you wave a hand at the room around you. She looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I mean yeah, but I haven’t seen them all hung up! Plus, I want to come see YOU, silly! This is huge, we have to celebrate!” You swallow hard as your lip begins to wobble and Nat’s eyes soften as she pulls you back into a hug. “Hey, it’s okay, that’s what friends do, okay? We support each other, we cry together during the losses, and we celebrate the wins no matter how big or small. I’m so proud of you, Roadie and I hope you can be proud of you too.” You nod into Nat’s shoulder, sniffling as you try to hold back overwhelmed tears. When she pulls away, she motions for you to stay still while she disappears into your bedroom, coming back with a tissue that she carefully uses to dab at your wet eyes, making sure not to smudge your makeup. “One more thing,” she digs into her pocket before she shows you a clear tube and when you frown at it in confusion she unwraps the packaging before carefully applying the clear gloss to your lips. “There we go, subtle but has the perfect amount of zing.” She holds up her phone camera for you to examine the way your lips shine with the clear gloss. She’s right, it’s subtle, not tinted, but it makes your lips look for lack of a better word, juicy. It feels sexy while being simple and it[‘s your turn to hug Nat.

“It’s perfect, thank you, Nat.” She squeezes you back before letting you go and pressing the small tube into your hands.

“Just so you know?” She says with a fond smile. “I’m rooting for the two of you.” You feel your cheeks heat at her words and you surprise yourself when your next words come out.

“Yeah, me too.” Before she can reply your doorbell buzzes and your head jerks towards the door as your eyes widen. Javy’s here.

“Go get him, tiger,” Nat says as she pushes you towards the door, gently and you shuffle over, stopping to bend over and step into your shoes for the evening. Another product of your and Nat’s shopping spree, they’re simple wedges that provide good support and are much shorter than the shoes Josie lent you.

You unlock the door with shaking hands and the sight on the other side steals your breath. You’ve seen Javy in a suit multiple times before, from the day you met, to your first date, and then yesterday at the game, but the sight of him in a full tuxedo has your heart skipping a few beats. The tuxedo is a simple black but the sight of his crisp dress shirt buttoned to his throat, complete with a black bow tie has him looking more handsome than the sexy that his usual style tends to lean towards. You’re so busy ogling him that you don’t see the flowers at first but your breath catches as your eyes find the brilliant orange flowers. You reach out a shocked hand to trace the curves of the tiger lily blossoms as you try to ignore the voice in your head screaming that you have their pink cousins currently wilting on your kitchen table after you’d excitedly purchased them for yourself last week.

“Hi,” Javy says and his voice is so soft you almost convince yourself that he’s as out of breath as you are.

“Hi,” your voice is breathy as you finally tear your eyes away from the flowers back to his face. “Tiger lilies,” you whisper like it’s a question and he looks down at the flowers like he’s just remembering he’s holding them.

“They reminded me of you,” he says to the flowers before he looks back to you, and your brow furrows in confusion. The blooms are bright and bold, shaped like trumpets that announce their presence, nothing like you. “They’re delicate and shy,” he runs a finger along a bloom that’s slumped over slightly, “but they’re also bright and full of life.” He gives you a gentle lopsided smile that almost knocks you over. Even so simple and small, it feels like you’ve been hit by a sunbeam and you can’t help the way you smile back.

“Thank you, Javy, they’re beautiful, I love them.” You reach for them and as he hands them to you, you realize they’re in a vase already.

“My sister, she runs a flower shop, and she said if you should get a proper bouquet made so whoever you’re buying the flowers for gets a gift instead of a chore, or something like that.” He scratches the back of his neck with his now-empty hand.

Before you can answer, the door opens wider and Nat appears. “Well look at you, who knew you clean up so nice? I’m gonna head out so you guys can be on your way, but I’ll take those first.” She takes the vase from you and heads back inside as Javy gapes after her.

“Sorry, I invited her over to help me get ready-” Javy turns back to you, shaking his head.

“No, no, that’s fine, great even.” He pauses before thoughtfully adding, “She needs more friends.”

“JAVY MACHADO I HEARD THAT!” Nat yells from inside the house before she emerges, glaring at him. “Fuck you, too.” She says flashing the finger at him before stomping past the two of you and heading for the parking lot. Javy sticks his tongue out after her. “Have fun, you two, and Javy if you do anything stupid, I’m calling your mom!” She calls and you watch Javy blanche slightly at her words before he turns back to you. You watch the worry slide from his face as he looks at you.

“I know I’ve already seen you in the dress, but you look beautiful, Meep.” Your cheeks heat at his compliment. He offers you his hand and you take it without a second thought, letting him lead you down to the parking lot. When you reach his car you frown in confusion as he opens the passenger door of the Land Rover.

“Where’s your car?” You ask as he helps you into the passenger seat. Javy looks like a deer caught in the headlights as he answers.

“I, uh, thought we could just go out tonight. Just us, no press or anything.” You feel your cheeks heat to match the way his have to be.

“Oh,” you whisper.

“If that’s okay with you, I mean,” he stammers awkwardly. You consider his words. He’s giving you an out if you want it. This isn’t a part of the contract, and you both know that. And yet you don’t want to get out of the car.

“Yeah, that’s okay with me, Javy.” You try not to focus on the way relief transforms his face as he grins at you before closing the door and jogging around to the driver’s side.

***

Your eyes are wide as Javy hands his keys to the valet in front of a gallery that you recognize the name of. You’ve never visited but the artist’s name emblazoned on the banners outside makes you slightly dizzy. Javy offers you his arm and you take it before turning to question him. “Javy, what are we doing here?” You whisper urgently as he leads you inside and towards a table where a woman with a clipboard is seated. He ignores your question to address the woman.

“Machado, party of two.” He says, flashing a polite smile at the woman and she blinks at him in surprise before she checks the list on her clipboard and gives him a saccharine smile as she hands him a pair of paddles that catch your attention as Javy pulls you closer and you look up at him, surprised before you catch the predatory gleam in the woman’s eyes and the way Javy’s gone rigid against you. You curl against him, silently reassuring him with a squeeze of his arm. You feel him relax at your touch and then he turns away from her.

You reach for his hand, fingers brushing as you take the paddles from his hand, examining the numbers on them as Javy silently leads you to a pair of double doors and into a big room. There are tables around the room and a stage at the front with a podium. He leads you to a table that’s currently empty as people are still arriving. When you sit he finally turns to you, and you see exhausted frustration in his eyes and you reach out, placing a green-painted fingertip against his lips. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay,” you whisper and his shoulders relax. You watch his lips pucker slightly in what could be construed as a kiss to your finger. You withdraw it and reach for his hand, squeezing it in yours. “Don’t let her ruin our night,” you remind him and he nods. In an attempt to take his mind off it, you gesture to the room. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?” You ask.

He surprises you by leaning his forehead against the side of your head as you glance around the room. “Come on smart girl, you tell me,” he says and you hope he can’t hear the way your heartbeat is in your ears. You reach for the paddles he’s set on the table, turning one in your hand thoughtfully.

“An auction?” You ask, cursing the way your voice shakes in nervous excitement. He nods against your head before he straightens.

“Attagirl, I thought it might be something you’d be interested in,” he explains and your heart flutters in response. “Have you ever been to an art auction, before?” He asks and you shake your head.

“I can barely afford to make my own art let alone buy anyone else’s,” you admit before you can stop yourself and you cringe in embarrassment.

“Well that’s what I’m here for,” he watches your eyes widen in surprise and your mouth open to argue but he shakes his head. “My treat, if you see something you love, let me know. Plus, I need some pieces for my apartment, and I want to get something for my mom. I don’t really have a great eye for this kind of thing, so I figured I’d ask a professional,” he tips his head in your direction and you feel your cheeks warm. “You’ve seen my place, let me know if you see something that’ll look good there.” You nod, dizzy at the prospect of Javy valuing your opinion enough to want it.

“Okay,” you relent and the grin Javy turns on you may be worth more than all the art that’s going to be sold tonight.

***

“Javy,” you hiss as he raises his paddle, brow furrowed as he glares at a little old lady whose paddle is also up. The painting currently up for auction is a gorgeous modern impressionistic take on a rainy night in the French Quarter and the moment Javy had set his eyes on it, you’d seen the adoration and nostalgia in his eyes. It’s gorgeous and you think it’ll make the perfect centerpiece for his living room and you told him as much, but things have quickly spiraled out of hand.

“$30,000” the old lady exclaims indignantly and you feel sick to your stomach.

“$35,000” Javy retorts, and your eyes threaten to bug out of your face.

“$38,000” the old lady aims a sharp glare back at you and Javy.

“$50,000” Javy’s voice is almost lazy and you gape at him as he shrugs and smirks at the old lady who’s gone white as a sheet.

“$50,000 from the young man in the back. $50,000, going once,” The auctioneer calls, looking impressed. Javy arches a challenging eyebrow at the old lady who’s gaping at him. “$50,000, going twice,” Javy gives the old lady a nonchalant shrug. “Sold to the young man in the back for $50,000.” He finally turns to you and you’re still gaping at him.

“$50,000?!” You squeak at him and he shrugs.

“You said, and I quote, ‘It’s beautiful, and it would be like having a piece of home in your apartment and it would make the perfect centerpiece for the living room,’ and I remember telling you I trust your judgment.” You shake your head at him in disbelief.

“Not for $50,000!” You hiss and he rolls his eyes.

“I thought you believed in supporting artists,” he says, arching an eyebrow at you and you throw up your hands in exasperation. He leans in then, whispering so only you can hear. “You know if you let me see yours, I’d bet it’s worth a lot more than $50,000,” you roll your eyes even as heat creeps up your cheeks. Your art isn’t worth that much. You’re not so self-deprecating that you don’t think your art is good. It is, but it’s definitely not worth anything financially, especially since that’s not why you make it in the first place. Your art is a creative outlet, a way for you to process emotions that are too big for yourself, the words you can't bring yourself to say, a way for you to scream without saying a word.

You’re saved from retorting by the reveal of the next painting and your breath catches as the assistant steps away from the painting he’s just placed on the display easel. It’s a simple landscape at first glance, but the colors are what take your breath away. It’s a sunset over the bay, the cliffs beautifully silhouetted in shadows and you’re reminded of the view from Javy’s car on the way here tonight as the sun progressively sunk to the horizon. The flurry of oranges, purples, pinks, and blues, feels so perfect that you almost wish you’d painted it yourself. You almost don’t hear the auctioneer as he confirms the first bid until your ears catch the end of it. “...from the young man in the back,” you turn to Javy, lips parting in surprise as you catch him looking at you a fond smile on his face that he quickly schools.

“Javy,” your voice is a whisper but he just shakes his head gently as he turns back to the auction and counteroffers as bids come in from across the room. You have to excuse yourself, looking for the bathroom as the tears rise unbidden to your eyes. You dab carefully at your eyes as you stand in front of the mirror and try not to think about how Javy is currently spending thousands of dollars on you. You start with surprise as the door opens behind you and the little old lady from earlier walks in. You brace yourself for her anger but instead, she chuckles when she spots you before giving you a fond smile.

“Young love,” she remarks to no one in particular before she addresses you. “You’re a lucky lady, you know that? He reminds me of my Nathan,” she says with a bittersweet smile that you return as you nod. “Have a good evening,” she says simply before walking past you to a stall. You resist the urge to splash some water on your burning cheeks, leaving the bathroom before she finishes, hurrying to get back to Javy. As you approach the table, you spot a woman standing next to Javy whom you quickly recognize as the lady from earlier in the night. You frown as you approach and then you catch Javy’s voice. “I told you already, I have a girlfriend, so I’d appreciate it if you left us alone.” You can hear that he’s gritting the words out through his teeth and you feel anger wash through you. The lady doesn’t seem deterred by his words and you approach, hands shaking equally from nerves and rage. You watch as she places a possessive hand on Javy’s arm.

“I believe he asked you to leave him alone.” The harshness in your voice surprises you and you watch Javy and the lady turn towards the sound of your voice as you approach. “No means no.” You say firmly as you reach out and forcibly remove her hand from Javy’s arm. “Now please leave before I have someone come make you.” You don’t believe your own threat but she seems to as he eyes widen and then she turns and heads back the way she came as you glare after her. Once you watch her exit the room, you turn back to Javy, brows furrowed in concern. “You okay?”

***

Javy stares up at you like you’re an avenging angel, your gentle fingers replacing that woman’s claws on his arm. He shifts so the tablecloth hopefully hides the beginning of what he’s sure is going to be a very painful case of blue balls. He realizes you’re still looking down at him, worry swirling in your eyes and he almost pulls you into his arms then and there. His fingers itch to bury themselves in your hair and he wants to climb inside your skeleton to get as close to you as physically possible. Instead, he simply breathes the words rattling around inside his skull, “Thank you.” Your eyes soften and he can’t stop the way his eyes flit down to your perfect plump lips.

“That’s what friends do, right?” You say with a soft smile and your words are a proverbial bucket of ice water that’s been dumped over his head. Friends, right, friends. Javy doesn’t know much but he knows he’s never wanted to tear the dress off of one of his friends. He also knows he wouldn’t have just spent ten grand on a painting for a friend, but he also knows he needs to let you set the pace here. It’s the best advice he’s ever been given as much as he hates that it came from Bradley Bradshaw. As you sit back down next to him and turn your attention back to the auction he thinks back to a week ago.

***

“I just don’t want to fuck this up,” he admits, squirming in the chair he’s currently sitting in. Around him, curled up on the couch and sprawled on the floor are Bugs, Zam, Dragon, Nat, and Josie. Josie’s been glaring daggers at him since she arrived and honestly, he’s surprised that she showed up, but he has a feeling it has more to do with girl code than any particular desire to help him.

Zam regards him thoughtfully from where she’s seated on the couch, hugging a fluffy pillow that looks like a new addition. “Well that’s the first step, I think. You know what you want, and you know you don’t want to hurt her anymore,”

“Though why you hurt her in the first place is still a mystery,” Josie remarks from her spot next to Zam.

“That’s not why we’re here,” Bugs reminds her while giving Javy a soft look that tells him he needs to have a chat with his best friend about secretkeeping. “We’re trying to find a way to move forward, not back. Zam’s right, acknowledging the problem is the first step in making any progress toward a solution.

“What the fuck?” Javy’s stomach drops as everyone’s eyes follow his to where Bradley Bradshaw is standing at the entrance to the living room.

“Bear! You’re home!” Zam chirps happily, ignoring the irritation blossoming on her boyfriend’s face. It softens slightly at her greeting as he answers,

“Hey Honey,” before he turns back to the the scene taking place in the living room, roving over the girls’ faces before coming to a stop on Javy. “What the fuck is he doing here?” His frown deepens.

“Javy’s acknowledged that he’s in deep shit, and has called upon the sage knowledge of the Dogfighters’ Council of Ladies.” Bradley’s brow doesn’t budge.

“That still doesn’t explain why he’s HERE.” He points out and Zam rolls her eyes.

“Well we wanted to meet somewhere where all the ladies are,” she points out, waving a hand towards a small table next to where Bradley’s standing. Javy had cloaked it when he first arrived. On it are two picture frames, one of a couple that must be Bradley’s parents and the other of a woman who looks like an older version of Zam. There are also two vases, filled with daisies and irises respectively. The fight surprisingly goes out of Bradley as he follows Zam’s hand.

“Fine, am I ordering pizza?” He asks, heading for the kitchen, and Zam brightens.

“Yes, please!” He shakes his head but Javy can tell it's an endeared exasperation. “Okay now, back to business, ladies, what do we think Javy should do?”

“Leave her the fuck alone, that’s what,” Bradley calls from the kitchen where he’s tapping away at his phone.

“And why is that?” Zam turns to face him, glaring at him over the back of the couch.

“Are you kidding? She’s too good for him. She deserves better.” Bradley says without looking up and Javy hates the way his stomach tightens because he knows Bradley’s right.

“That’s rich coming from you, Bradshaw,” Dragon remarks and Bradley looks up, cocking an eyebrow at her. “Mr. Grumpy, ‘I emote with my fists,’ Mr. ‘I punched my girlfriend before the first date’ who’s dating someone that’s absolutely out of his league wants to talk about ‘too good’ and ‘deserves better?’” She arches an accusatory eyebrow right back at Bradley and in that moment Javy’s reminded of who her dad is. Splotches of heat climb up Bradley’s neck and he looks chagrinned. “You want to participate, maybe you should be the one giving Javy some advice.” Bradley puts down his phone and leans against the kitchen counter, looking at Dragon for a long moment before turning to Zam and Javy watches him watch her, fondness mixed with anxiety in his eyes.

Finally, he turns to Javy, almost against his will. “Fine, you want to get her back? First, apologize, and really mean it. If you don’t, don’t even bother. And if she accepts your apology? Take things at her pace, and give her control. She’s a nervous little thing, so let her take the lead. Only go as far as she lets you. Relationships are built on trust and right now you’re fresh out. You won’t get anywhere without it so you have to build it. Show her she can trust you. That’s it. The rest will take care of itself.” He shrugs before he picks his phone up again and continues ordering the pizza.

“Damn,” Josie speaks up. “I hate that he’s right.” She turns to Javy. “But I’ve been married to a hockey player for ten years and honestly that’s it. It all comes down to trust and respect. If you can earn that, you have a chance.” She thinks for a long moment, “Well that and she has to be attracted to you.”

“Is she?” Javy asks before he can stop himself. Josie snorts in response and it’s Nat that speaks up.

“Yup, definitely.” She pops the p and Javy’s head jerks to look at his friend. “That’s all I’m giving you, Javy, so don’t you dare come sniffing around for more. We hung out when she came to watch practice and she definitely likes you,” Javy tries to ignore the way his stomach flip-flops at the reveal of this new information.

“That poor girl,” Bradley mutters from the kitchen. “Alright, Machado, you got your advice, now get out of my apartment.” He jerks a thumb towards the hallway.

“But Bradley, what about the pizza?” Zam pouts at him.

“It’s ordered, but it’s Council-only, he’s not staying,” Bradley says, crossing his arms across his chest, leaving little room for argument. Dragon does anyway.

“You’re not on the Council,” she points out from where she’s sprawled out on the floor.

“I live here and I paid.” Bradley shoots back.

“I’ll pay half,” Javy offers and Bradley’s eyes narrow as they come back to him. “Or I could pay it all,” he amends and Bradley considers the offer.

“Fine, but the moment the food’s done, you get out.” He states firmly and Zam cheers as Javy nods and pulls out his wallet.

***

Javy smiles to himself at the memory and the fact that Bradley had given him the money back on his way out with strict instructions to buy you some flowers with it. He’s doing his best, even if it’s not great. You seemed to like the flowers at least. But as he looks down to where you’re holding his hand, he wonders if maybe he’s not doing so bad after all.

A/N: Y’all… I think he’s in love 🥺

#san diego dogfighters #san diego dogfighters au #san diego dogfighters hockey au #false confidence // goldenseresinretriever #fc // goldenseresinretriever #javy machado x you #javy machado x reader #javy coyote machado x reader #javy coyote machado #javy coyote machado x you #javy machado #coyote x you #coyote x reader #top gun maverick #top gun maverick hockey au #tgm #top gun #no use of y/n

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intermundia · 4 months

Note

I'm a different anon, but your answer to that person, about how we all have our own perspectives and such, got me curious if you wanted to talk about your favorite things about Anakin? I really like how he has this earnest passion in everything he says and does, no matter what the consequences are. He lets his instincts and heart influence what actions he takes. I think you could say the same about Obi-Wan too to a degree, but I think Obi-Wan errs to keeping his emotions/intentions concealed until he has the best advantage he can get. And I think that this sort of "two sides of the same coin" contrast between them is part of what makes the ship appealing. Anyway, yeah, I wanted to know what you enjoy about Anakin ^^ And that other anon too, if they want to send another ask about their feelings/thoughts

Oh man, what a question. You've activated my trap card. Anakin Skywalker is possibly my favorite character of all time. It's endlessly fascinating to read stories about him, and writing him allows me to articulate the messy, painful, thwarted parts of myself. He's half my brain, and Obi-Wan is the other half, and resolving their differences brings me deep catharsis.

Everything you said about him is so true, his earnest passion is so deeply appealing. Obi-Wan called him passionate, fearless, forthright, and he is the embodiment of those traits, but he's flawed too, and flawed in ways I feel in my bones, and regrets the same things that I regret. He's so beautiful and so damned, a fallen and risen angel, you know?

Stover wrote that the brightest light casts the darkest shadow. He ends up at just the nadir of cruelty and violence, but he begins from a place of pure generosity and light. His intentions were so good, and he was so impossibly brave. It seems like arrogance, that cocky assurance of what he was capable of, but the universe bends around him to fit his will.

He's more than human, he's half-divine, a mirror and barometer of the entire galaxy's mood. His life is coextensive with the rise and fall of an empire, his personal tragedy from greed is both archetypal and relatable, and he is the scaffolding the narrative rests inside. Luke is the hero of the story but Anakin is the embodiment of the world he strives against.

He is painfully earnest and a liar, a villain and a victim, naive and jaded, brilliant but foolish, perfect and deeply flawed. It's so easy for me to understand why he was so beloved. He's absolutely the other side of Obi-Wan's coin, the heart to Obi-Wan's head, the passion to his reason, the instinct to his experience. The Team together is one complete and fully realized being, separation means incompleteness and disaster.

Vader is just one of the most iconic villains of all time, and Lucas defied all expectations in the prequels. He used his character to tell a cautionary tale about greed rather than give excuses for why he became such a monster. He is intentionally shown to be so generous and kind as a boy, handsome and daring as a man, with infinite wasted potential for good, it's incredible.

Idk man, I like him and I love him, I hate him and I want him; he's one of the best characters of the modern age.

#anakin skywalker #darth vader #long post #sorry #i really do mean trap card #hayden is also gorgeous. that is part of it. but it will keep my extolling of his physical virtues to dirty fanfic lol #sw

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clarisse0o · 1 month

Text

Camp Wiegman-Part 40

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 5k

TW : Homophobia

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Monday, January 18th; 7:50 AM - School Grounds.

Anxiety slowly takes over me. I’m about to meet my new class in a few minutes. Fortunately, I won’t be doing it alone. Both Leah and Lotte are accompanying me on this new adventure, thank God. I would have gone crazy otherwise. As if I hadn’t already had a disastrous night… Nothing is ever normal at home anyway. Everything always happens at once. My nightmares came back stronger than ever. I found myself drenched in sweat in my little bed at three in the morning. I was lucky not to have woken up Lucy. I was in a terrible state. I even had to get up and change. I think she noticed I wasn’t wearing the same pajamas this morning, but she didn’t ask me about it. She’s understood my need for space since her rejection. I don’t want to deal with her until I’ve sorted things out in my head. It’s painful, but I have to look at things positively... I’ve finally granted her wish to sleep in separate beds. Even though it worked against me last night, it’s also what I want now. It was a mistake to get used to being in her arms. I should have known better. I suddenly remembered why I keep my distance from people. But now it’s too late. Too late to regret what’s been done. The problem is, I’ve become dependent on her. That’s an undeniable fact. I found myself lying in bed staring at the ceiling, unable to fall back asleep. Her steady breathing calmed me, reminding me that I wasn’t alone, but I still couldn’t sleep. The realization that it was her, her presence against me, that I missed completely overwhelmed me. I had never reached this stage with anyone before, not even Mapi. Instead of swallowing my pride by waking her up or joining her, I locked myself in the bathroom and slid down to the floor. I was on the verge of breaking down, realizing the situation I was in. Everything hit me all at once, and I hadn’t seen it coming. I let her into my life, and now there’s no turning back. I could have cried out in sheer pain, but I didn’t. I held it in because I had no right to do otherwise. I put myself in this situation. The rest of the night gave me plenty of time to reflect with my tormented mind. I ended up spending the rest of the night on that floor until it was time to sneak back to my bed. I didn’t want Lucy to notice my suspicious absence. My plan worked, and it’s likely to be very effective next time. Though, I doubt my body can endure this for long. I’m already struggling now. I noticed dark circles in the mirror this morning, and my eyes sting. Lucy couldn’t see them. I rushed to the bathroom as soon as the alarm rang to cover my face with foundation.

“Relax, Ona,” Leah chuckles, pulling me out of my thoughts. “You’re acting like we’re going to a funeral. Your stress is palpable from miles away.”

“You’re funny,” I grumbled. “You both know everyone here, unlike me. It feels like I’m starting school all over again.”

“You weren’t even this tense when you first arrived here,” she mocks.

“I didn’t care about being here back then,” I say, shrugging. “Remember, I was looking for a way out.”

“Not anymore?” Lotte asks.

“Looks like things change.”

“Little Batlle is evolving!” Leah jokes. “I thought we’d finally get to see a rebel.”

“Pff, nonsense. Of course, Bronze managed to train her student again.”

That unknown voice was harsh. I look around to find the person who dared to listen in on our conversation. I spot a student I don’t know at all. She seems to be mocking me.

“Got a problem?” I reply.

“Me?” she answers, feigning outrage. “Not at all. I was just saying Bronze succeeded again in taming the camp princess.”

I furrow my brow. Camp princess? What kind of nonsense is this? How do the students know that nickname? An inexplicable rage builds up inside me. So this is what they think of me here? That I was a little rebel that Lucy managed to tame? If Alessia hadn’t had her hand on my arm, I would have grabbed her collar by now to make her regret her words.

“Let it go, Athenea,” scoffs a girl who just arrived. “The rumors about her must be true. She’s probably a lesbian who can’t resist the charms of our dear instructor.”

I clench my fists so tightly that my knuckles turn white as snow. This is really not the time to provoke me about that. I take a deep breath, telling myself they don’t know what they’re talking about, but that girl’s smug smile is infuriating. Looks like I’ve already found someone to despise in my new class.

“Let it go, Ona. Let them think what they want.”

I take Alessia’s advice and turn my back on those two troublemakers. I’m not going to stoop to their level by getting provoked. They’re just trying to irritate me, but I won’t give them that satisfaction. The best response is to ignore them. I was ready to continue our conversation until I felt a presence behind me.

“By the way, my name is Korbin,” she whispers in my ear. “You’re going to remember my name very quickly with all the trouble I’m going to cause you… filthy dyke.”

She walks past me, turning around to give me one last malicious smile before entering our classroom. Great. This couldn’t have started any better. She clearly doesn’t know who she’s messing with.

“We should go inside,” Alessia gently reminds me.

I nod without taking my eyes off the doors she just walked through.

“Are you okay?” she murmurs.

I sigh, nodding again while trying to hide my slight tremors. This is the first time I’ve experienced a direct homophobic remark. She pats my shoulder before I follow her into our new classroom. Most of the seats are already taken. Luckily, Leah and Lotte got in before us and saved us seats in the back. I sit next to Alessia, taking the spot by the window. I take out my supplies and put my bag on the floor, then lean against the wall to get a view of my new class. I quickly spot the infamous Korbin, who gives me a twisted smile. Looks like I’ll have to find out more about this girl.

“Good morning, everyone, to your new Business Management class,” my new teacher’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “I’m Mr. Tompson, your new homeroom teacher for the rest of the year.”

I’m surprised to see a young teacher at the front of the class. He’s nothing like any teacher I’ve had before. I’d guess he’s in his early thirties at most. He has a certain charm with his slight beard and tousled chestnut hair.

“I’ll be your management teacher for the rest of the year. We’ll start off slowly by taking roll,” he continues as he heads to his desk. “Just so you know, I have notes on each of you from your previous teachers as well as instructors. This will help your new teachers and me to understand you quickly.”

Lucy didn’t mention anything about that… Damn. I’m going to be labeled right from the start. I wasn’t particularly liked by my previous teachers.

“Well, let’s get to roll call,” he says, sitting down. “I want to put faces to the names I’ve read about.”

I sink into my chair as he calls the first name on the list. I glance at Alessia, who smiles at me. I was disappointed not to be in the same class as Alexia for the rest of the year, but maybe this will give me a chance to get closer to others. It might be a blessing in disguise. Maybe I’ll be able to forget Lucy in the process. I furrow my brow when Alessia nudges me.

“ Batlle, Ona?”

“Sorry,” I say aloud, realizing what’s happening. “Here!”

I look my teacher straight in the eye. His are a very plain brown. He gives me a warm smile. I feel like he’s judging me in some way.

“So you’re the famous Ona I’ve heard so much about,” he says. “I have mixed opinions about you,” he tells me. “A lot of people seem to believe in you. Let’s see how that turns out.”

“She must have slept with Bronze to get positive remarks,” the bitch from earlier snickers.

“Shut up!” I snap without thinking.

I glare at her to emphasize my words. She just smiles at me maliciously. This girl is pure poison, it’s unreal. Many laugh at her stupid joke. I really didn’t need any more rumors about me on top of everything else.

“Hey, that’s enough!” the teacher shouts. “Quiet down,” he demands, silencing the class. “There’s no place for that kind of remark here, got it?! Next time, you’ll explain your inappropriate comments to the principal.”

“Oh, come on, I was just joking,” she giggles.

“Real funny,” I growl.

- "I said that's enough!" he lectures. "I’m going to finish taking attendance, and then we’ll start the lesson right away as a punishment."

Discontented sighs are heard. They better not even try to blame me. The entire class acted childishly. I rest my head against the palm of my hand until attendance is over. I feel like this day is going to be even longer than I expected. My lack of sleep isn’t helping, but it’s best if I don’t draw attention to myself on the first day. Once attendance is over, he follows through on his threat by starting the lesson. This day isn’t much different from other Mondays. My schedule is almost identical. It’s just the content that changes. Today we have two hours of management, then two hours of math. Since it’s the first day, the hours pass more quickly. The teachers take their time getting into the thick of things. We lost half an hour in each subject listening to their spiel and their attendance list, as they don’t know most of us. Finally, lunch arrives. I was chatting with Alessia on the way to the cafeteria until a brown-haired bundle jumps on me, making me lose the little balance I have. I catch her by the thighs to prevent us from falling to the ground.

- "Oh my Onita, I missed you so much!"

- "Alexia," I chuckle. "It was just a morning!"

- "That’s already way too long. I want to see my crazy friend in class!"

I laugh as she hugs me tighter. This position must look hilarious to the others. It’s exactly what I needed after this disastrous start to the day.

- "Putellas, get down immediately," a voice I know too well commands.

My roommate must still be traumatized by Lucy to have listened so quickly. I turn to see her with a stern expression on her face. I simply adjust my backpack properly, then turn on my heel towards the cafeteria with Alexia, who places her arm over my shoulders.

- "Is there any tension in the air with Bronze?" she asks hesitantly.

- "We’ll talk about it later," I reply simply. "How was your morning otherwise?"

- "Calm... Too calm," she sighs. "I really missed you. Plus, I’m with Alba now. I have to behave seriously."

- "Oh, don’t say that," I laugh. "I’m sure she’s not as serious as she pretends to be, little Alba."

- "Oh, not her... But she makes sure that I am."

- "Hey! I’m not that bad," replies Alba, who must have overheard us.

- "Prove us wrong then," I challenge her. "Let your sister live a little!"

- "Well, she lived with you! She only had comments about talking too much in her file."

- "Oh, they gave you your comments? We weren’t so lucky. They only said they couldn’t agree on me."

- "Not surprising," Alba mocks. "Do you have a good class?" she continues.

- "Eh. I have a bitch who’s taken me as a scapegoat."

- "What’s her name?"

- "Korbin, if I remember correctly."

- "Ouch..." she comments. "Avoid her as much as possible. She’s a pain."

- "I noticed. Do you know her? If so, you’ll need to tell me everything you know about her."

- "No problem," she smiles. "We’ll talk about it at the table."

She winks at me before moving forward in line. I realize this is the first sensible conversation I’ve had with Alba. I mean, I talk to everyone around the table, but never one-on-one. The only people who’ve had that privilege are Alexia and Leah. They were the only ones I focused on because I feel close to them. I regret not opening up more to others. I now understand what Mapi meant when she said I was so hooked on Lucy that I could barely talk about my friends. In reality, I gave her so much importance that I didn’t give the same to the other people around me. I think this distance will show me all the things I’ve been missing out on.

Monday, January 18; 5:00 PM - Classroom

I pack up my things as soon as the Alba rings. I absolutely hate my first classes. I just endured two hours of accounting, and I’d be lying if I said I understood anything. It’s a subject that bores me so much that I don’t wait for permission to start packing my bag. I’m the first one standing when the teacher gives the green light to leave.

“In a rush?” Alessia asks, holding me back.

“Uh, yeah. I need to see Wiegman about something personal. I’ll catch up with you in the common room when I’m done.”

“Didn’t you say you’d study in Bronze’ office after your classes?”

“Oh, right. I changed my mind. I’ll study with you guys, so you can help me with what I didn’t understand if that’s okay.”

“No, not at all. I’d be happy to.”

“Cool,” I say with a small smile. “See you later then.”

I quickly escape from that hellish classroom, heading straight to Wiegman’s office as I mentioned. I know the way perfectly, having been there several times already. I don’t hesitate to knock on the

door. I open it when I’m given permission to do so.

“Good aft-”

I stop in my tracks when I see not one, but two pairs of eyes staring at me.

“Well, hello, Ona. What brings you here?”

“I wanted to discuss something with you. I can come back later if I’m interrupting.”

“Don’t be silly, we were just finishing up,” she says. “Come sit next to your supervisor. It shouldn’t bother you to talk in front of her, right?”

She couldn’t have picked a worse time to be here. I must be cursed; there’s no other explanation. Having no other choice, I shake my head before closing the door behind me. I move as slowly as possible to the empty chair next to Lucy, placing my bag between my legs. My pulse quickens, and I can’t control it.

“What did you want to discuss?” she asks.

How did I end up in this situation? I should have left. The topic I want to discuss isn’t one I should address in front of Lucy. Anxiety takes over me. I lower my head to avoid facing them directly, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling their eyes on me. I shake my head briefly to regain my composure. Her presence should not influence my decision. I’ve had enough time to think it over during the night. I take a deep breath. I’m ready to defend my point if necessary.

“I want to go back to my room,” I blurt out like a bombshell.

With my eyes lowered, I can’t see their reactions. Judging by the silence that follows, I doubt it’s a good one. Surprise, maybe. I gather my courage and raise my head to indeed see that expression on their faces, at least on Wiegman’s.

“I’m feeling better,” I assert confidently. “I still have restless nights, but I’m not having any more episodes. I’ve already caused enough trouble for those around me because of my personal issues.”

Laughter fills the room. I quickly regret meeting my supervisor’s gaze. It’s hard and filled with anger.

“Are you kidding me?” she hisses. “Are we talking about those dark circles under your eyes? You can hide them all you want, but it doesn’t work with me. I absolutely do not agree with this room change.”

And there it is, as expected. I’m screwed. Damn observant! I thought she hadn’t noticed. We both turn to Wiegman, waiting for his decision. She scratches his head while observing us closely. I’ve noticed it’s a habit when she’s thinking. She looks back and forth between us before finally focusing on me.

“Why do you want this change, Ona?”

“I’ve already troubled my supervisor enough. She’s losing sleep because of me, and I don’t want that to continue.”

“She volunteered for this. She’s doing it willingly. Unless you’ve changed your mind, Ms. Bronze?”

I sense agitation next to me. She’s probably seething right now. I won’t come out unscathed from this meeting.

“Absolutely not,” she growls.

“Good. In that case, it’s up to you to decide what’s best for your student.”

“Her episodes are unpredictable,” she responds. “There’s no way she can return to her room right now.”

The tone she uses sends shivers down my spine. I don’t even dare look at her anymore. She’s going to hate me after this… Maybe that’s what I was aiming for when I made this decision. I raise my eyes to our principal when she speaks again.

“So the matter is settled,” she says, causing my shoulders to slump in defeat. “Don’t feel embarrassed about such small things, Ona. We’re here to help you, don’t forget that. We were just talking about the remarkable progress you’ve made in your behavior.”

“Um… right,” I respond indifferently. “Can I go now? My friends are waiting for me.”

- "Yes, of course, you can go."

- "Thank you for seeing me. Goodbye."

I stand up and sling my bag over my shoulder. I head for the door, feeling the weight of Lucy's eyes on my back.

- "You can leave too, Miss Bronze. We were finished."

I suddenly pale. Damn! I hear her thank Wiegman as I make a run for it to get out of there. I was on a good track until I heard her after slamming the door.

- "Not so fast, Batlle!"

Ouch. It's not a good sign when she uses my last name. I do the exact opposite of what she asked, running towards the exit. I was about to reach the door when Lucy couldn't control her momentum in the chase and ended up crashing into me as I stopped. Her body pins mine against the door before she grabs me by the collar of my jacket. She forcibly drags me to a room I recognize as the restroom when we arrive. She immediately locks the door behind us to prevent me from escaping.

- "What the hell is your problem?" I snap.

- "My problem?!" she exclaims. "What about yours? You've been avoiding me like the plague since this morning! You haven't said a word to me, and now I find you in Wiegman's office asking for a room change? When exactly were you planning to tell me, huh?"

I've never seen her this angry before. She's so red with rage that I don't even dare to speak. I'm paralyzed. She seems to notice my fear because she closes her eyes for a moment. I could have taken the opportunity to slip away if she weren't standing in front of the door. I don't feel ready to face her now. I probably never will be. But I know she won't let me out of here without getting her answers, thanks to those two determined emerald jewels of hers.

- "Answer me. Explain yourself, or... I don't know. Do something!"

Her tone is harsh, and she's losing patience. Lucy has never been someone who loses patience. My silence is affecting her more than I imagined. I lower my head, trying to come up with some reasonable excuse for what I've done, but what's the point? There’s none that can replace the truth.

- "I-I can't, Lucy."

- "Can't what?"

- "Act like nothing happened! You rejected me, and I accept that, but... But don't blame me for distancing myself. I've been hurt by rejection enough in my life. I don't want it to happen again."

Her shoulders slump at my response. It was like she just realized the consequences of her decision.

- " Ona..." she says in a strangely calmer voice. "I-"

- "No, shut up. I don't care about the reasons, okay? I don't even know if there are any, but I understood your choice. You can't or you won't. I don't know, but the result is the same. Either way, I can't let myself develop any further feelings for you."

- "It's my fault we've come to this... I should have maintained my professionalism and avoided giving you false hope."

I laugh bitterly. I don't regret how I feel about her at all. It's her reaction I regret. I say nothing, preferring to play along with her.

- "Yeah, maybe you should have, but it's too late now."

- "I never wanted things to get to this point, Ona. I-I thought we could stay friends, that I could help you. That's all I was trying to do."

- "You don't get it," I spit out.

She doesn't understand that it's her that I need, the relationship she's denying me. She reignited something in me that had been destroyed in my downward spiral. I'd never felt as good as I did with her by my side. I take a deep breath as I see her watching me curiously. If she thinks I'm going to make it easy for her by saying all this, she's dreaming. Who knows why she doesn’t want me? Maybe she’s seeing someone else, like that girl from the other night. They seemed close and she was pretty cute. I shake my head to get that image out of my mind. It’s none of my business.

- "Forget it. I-I... You know, today I realized that I've deprived myself of so much by focusing on you. I never wanted to feel these things for you, but it's not something you can control. I can't turn back now. Just when I thought I had finally discovered the real you..." I murmur thoughtfully.

- "Nothing is stopping us from continuing..." she murmurs, almost desperately.

- "N-no... I-I'm really sorry... B-but, I need to step back. That’s all I’m asking. If you care about me even a little, then... Stay out of my life until I need you again."

These words hurt, but it's the only solution I've found if I don't want to lose her entirely and waste the progress I've made. Running away has always been my way of protecting myself. I know Lucy can understand that. She’s always been able to read me with unsettling ease. That’s probably why she looks so sad. She knows it’s the only way to keep me intact. She’s the one who transformed me, but she could also be the one who destroys me in the blink of an eye. That thought terrifies me. I should never have gotten so attached to her or developed these feelings. And then my friends wonder why I don’t open up anymore. It was to avoid moments like this that I stopped trusting new people. I should have kept going down that path. You always end up disappointed, even with someone as perfect as Lucy.

- "Okay," she resigns. "I want you to know that I never wanted things to get to this point, but I'll give you the space you need so I don’t lose you completely..."

I avoid looking at her so she doesn’t see how much her words affect me and how they sting my heart. She doesn't even try to stop me or change my mind. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive her for putting barriers between us. No matter what she says, I know our relationship isn’t meaningless to her. Or maybe it is. Maybe I’ve been wrong all along.

- "Thank you for respecting my choice..." I say, not without difficulty.

- "It’s not without conditions."

My jaw tightens. How dare she ask something of me? Seeing that I’m not planning to respond, she continues.

- "I’ll give you the space you need, but you’re still sleeping in my room. I’m also offended that you wanted to talk to Wiegman about it before consulting me."

- "To forget about this whole thing, I need to cut ties completely..." I admit. "I knew you’d never let me leave, which is why I went to her directly without consulting you."

- "I figured as much, but that’s not going to happen," she says, frowning. "No matter what happened between us, there’s no way I’m going to let you spiral down again."

- "I’m not spiraling."

- "I know you. This is my condition, Ona. I also want to keep our evening classes. Just because we had this little falling out doesn’t mean you should jeopardize your education."

I scoff at her words. So this is just a "little falling out" to her? I doubt she understands my feelings for her, then.

- "I’m not planning to jeopardize my education," I reply coldly. "But I’m not keeping those classes. I asked Alessia to help me instead, and she agreed."

My answer seems to surprise her. She doesn’t realize how thoroughly I’ve thought this through. She almost looks disappointed. Knowing that I’m still attending classes, she has no reason to forbid it.

- "I guess that’s non-negotiable...?"

- "Exactly. I need to spend time with my friends and distance myself from you."

- "Very well..." she sighs. "But don’t completely ignore me like you have the last couple of days. I want you to talk to me at least a little."

- "Yeah, whatever you say, Commander. Can I go now that the negotiations are over?"

- "Hmm... I’ll see you tonight," she says as she opens the door.

- "Yeah. I’ll probably be with Alexia before I come."

I walk out with my head held high. I feel relieved of a burden after confessing my feelings and proud of not backing down for once. But that confidence fades once I’m away from her. I have no idea how I’ll feel in the coming days... I’ve focused so much on her these past few months that it feels like I can’t live without her, and the consequences are starting to scare me. I take a deep breath when I get outside. I’m determined to prove to her—and to myself—that I can live without her. If I can make her regret her choice in the process, that would be the ultimate goal. I stop thinking about her when I reach the common room. All my friends are there. I join Alessia and Alexia, who are sitting around a table working. Well, if you can call it that. It looks more like they’re chatting than anything else.

- "Oh, Onita!"

- "Don’t start calling me that," I grimace.

- "I think it’s a cute nickname," Alessia comments.

- "Would you prefer ‘Princess’ instead?" Alexia teases. "I heard that one’s making the rounds at school."

I sigh and nod. Unfortunately, I think I’d rather it be "Onita" spreading instead of the other one. It’s going to remind me of Lucy, and that’s exactly what I would have preferred to avoid. The first days are going to be very long. I take out my notes while replying.

- "Yeah, it seems so... I wish it weren't the case. I don’t even know how they could have found out."

- "Who knows," Ale smiles. "I heard you were at Wiegman ’s?"

- "Yeah. Bronze was there too."

- "And...?" she asks hesitantly, which makes me shrug.

- "If you want to talk amongst yourselves, I can step out," Alessia offers.

- "No, don’t worry. We’ll talk about it tonight."

- "Hey Ona, you’re finally here!" Alba enthusiastically says. "Want to play a game of foosball?" she suggests.

- "Not tonight, sorry. Alessia owes me some tutoring and it might take a while... I’m really completely lost in my new subjects."

- "To that extent?" Alessia asks. "It’s not that complicated."

- "Oh yes! It’s like Chinese to me, seriously! How can such things even exist?" I grumble.

- "Okay, I get it," Alessia chuckles. "We’ll review everything from the beginning."

I nod with a small smile. I move my chair closer to her with my stuff. I just grab some scratch paper, as I used to do with Lucy... Alessia returns my smile and gets into the groove of going over our lessons for the day. I hope the motivation will be with me; otherwise, I’ll never make it through the year.

Monday, January 18; 8:30 PM - Ona and Alexia's Room

- "How could I have missed so much?"

I’ve just confessed everything to Alexia. When I say everything, I mean the entire story between Lucy and me. I couldn’t keep it to myself knowing how I’m going to feel in the coming days. She would have found out something was wrong anyway, and I doubt she would have stayed quiet without getting answers this time. All I can say is that she is not at all happy. She’s upset that I hid the progress of this relationship from her. I bite my lip, realizing the stupidity of excluding Ale from my life. I should have confided in her rather than Lucy. Her eyes did light up when I admitted that I’ve been sleeping with her recently or when I explained how much I care about her, even now.

- "Are you in love with her?"

- "No... I said I care about her, not that I’m in love with her."

- "It was just a simple question... You know, you’re allowed to be."

- "No, I’m not allowed," I sigh. "I just told you she turned me away. Developing feelings for her would destroy me..."

- "Good grief," she sighs. "Can’t you hear yourself? It can’t be like this. Didn’t you see the way she looked at me at lunch when I was on your back? I thought she was going to kill me with that hurt look!"

- "You’re exaggerating," I roll my eyes.

- "No, I assure you... There must be another reason she doesn’t want to develop your relationship."

- "Whatever... I extended an olive branch for her to change her mind, and she didn’t take it. She accepted me stepping away rather than keeping me by her side. It’s pretty clear as a response, don’t you think? Besides, this break won’t hurt me. She just made it clear that I need to continue being wary of people."

- "I doubt she wants you to react like this..."

- "I don’t care. I just need to clear my mind, and this is the only way I can do that."

- "Alright... If you say so."

I put down the pencil I had between my fingers and let my sketchbook fall between my thighs. It’s been so long since I touched my drawing materials that I’d forgotten the relaxing effect they gave me. As far back as I remember, they were always my best means of escape. Staying in my room with Alexia was probably the best idea I had to escape Lucy for the evening. Lucy hadn’t forgotten that I owed her an explanation, so she dragged me to come with her, but I admit I should have thought of that from the start.

- "Lucy had become my pillar, but I need to prove to myself that I can live without her."

- "You’ve become addicted to her, huh?"

I frown when she says that. It’s not the first time someone has said that to me. Mapi was the first, and I’m starting to question it.

- "No... Haven’t you been talking to Mapi?"

- "Oh, no... Not at all," she mocks.

- "Of course! What did she tell you?"

- "Nothing. She wanted you to tell me yourself. I assure you," she smiles. "But now that you’ve explained everything, I can finally understand what she was talking about, and sorry for you, but I can only agree with her. You’re in love with Lucy, and you’re denying it."

- "That’s not true," I protest.

- "Yes, it is. Just admit it."

- "Definitely not."

- "Say it. It will set you free, you’ll see."

- "No," I say, shaking my head. "You don’t understand," I say desperately, making her sigh.

- "Come here."

She pats her bed. I sigh but join her, grabbing my pillow and hugging it like a stuffed animal. I then curl up when she forces me to rest my head on her shoulder. My eyes fix on a point as I lose myself in my thoughts. Ale’s strokes in my hair, meant to relax me, have the opposite effect. I hate her. That’s how I feel about Lucy right now. All the recent moments of my life are related to her. She has taken up too much space, and now I have to live with this idea while trying to resume my life before she came along. The problem is, I don’t know how it works anymore. She took care of everything. It’s as if she did my thinking for me. I wasn’t ready for everything to turn out like this. I suffocate as I release the lump that had been stuck in my throat for too long.

- "Let it out."

That’s all it takes for my tears to start flowing down my cheeks. I can’t control myself anymore. Everything comes like a tornado. I let myself fall against Alexia, who opens her arms without hesitation. I never thought it would hurt this much.

- "I love her, damn it."

I close my eyes as Alexia encourages me to let go of everything my mind has prevented me from doing. I haven’t cried this much since I’ve been in this damn camp. I’ve felt sad more than once in my life, but I’ve never expressed it so much to others. I feel like I’ve become sensitive to everything. I collapse onto my roommate’s lap as she lets me unload my emotions. She achieved what she wanted. I feel drained. I’ve poured out everything I could until I ran out of strength. Alexia holds me against her, giving me soothing pats on the top of my head to calm me down. I look pathetic with my pillow clutched against me. We stay like this for a while until a muffled noise is heard at the door. I straighten up with my back to it to wipe my face as best as I can. The door opens without permission.

- "Oh, hello Bronze..."

I freeze at Ale’s clearly deliberate hint. I can only mentally thank her for making me realize it was her behind me. I was expecting her if I came too late to her room. I think curfew must be approaching. I squeeze my eyes shut to compose myself before facing her.

- "I was told I’d find you here," she says. "Curfew is coming soon, and it seems you still need to take a shower."

- "I was about to come," I mumble.

- "Hmm... I just wanted to make sure. I was afraid you might skip out on me despite our conversation."

I haven’t discussed this part with Alexia. I didn’t want to rub salt in the wound for now. I guess I’ll have to talk to her about it tomorrow now that she has brought it up.

- "I’m coming. You can go. I’ll tidy up first."

- "I’ll wait."

I sigh and grab my sketchbook from my bed with a brusque motion. I put it away in the cupboard with the rest of the materials, taking care not to turn around even once. It’s only when I pick up my jacket from the desk that she’s likely to see my disheveled state. I approach Alexia, who has already gotten up in the meantime. I give her a huge hug of thanks. I struggle to detach my head from her neck. I imagine her smiling to give her a rare and intense contact from me.

- "Rest, " she whispers in my ear. "It will be okay."

I nod and give her a lingering kiss on the cheek. She smiles softly as we wish each other goodnight. I put my hood over my head to hide the aftermath of my evening. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Lucy, who immediately comments as I pass by her. I simply keep my head down so she doesn’t see my face as we walk.

- "I thought you weren’t coming..." she murmurs. "Sorry for barging in."

- "Trust reigns," I snap. "But it’s no problem."

- "How was your day?" she tries to continue the conversation.

- "Great. Yours?"

- "Good... And your new class?"

- "I’ve had better."

- "With Alexia, I assume."

- "Not just that."

My short, undeveloped responses make her sigh. I would have loved to tell her about my day, but I promised myself to keep my distance from now on. It’s always her who gets my debrief normally, but today it’s not the case. I’ve done it with Alexia and Amba for once. We talked a lot about that pest Korbin. I learned a few things about her, but nothing crazy. All I learned is that she’s not a person worth hanging out with. We finish the walk to her room in silence. I directly look for my pajamas and clothes for tomorrow before locking myself in the bathroom. I stay there for a good half hour for a shower. When I come out, Lucy is already ready for bed but absorbed in her laptop on her lap. I ignore her and lie down on my small bed. I still wish her goodnight before turning my back to avoid the small light she left on her side. She seems determined to leave me alone, as she responds with a simple goodnight in return.

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