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lifblogs · 1 year

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Deal: Chapter 3

AI-less Whumptober: Day 4 Hiding An Injury | Betrayal | Lying @ailesswhumptober, @tarisilmarwen

Fandom: Star Wars: Rebels Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Pairing: Sabezra Word Count: 2437 Summary: While on a mission with Ezra Sabine gets injured and she hides it from him, not wanting him to worry. Things go sideways, and what Sabine wants becomes a whole lot more difficult. WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence READ ON AO3

They were taken to command. Along the way both Sabine and Ezra had been bound, their hands in binders behind their backs.

They were deposited before Thrawn on their knees.

The sudden pain was enough to wake Ezra. He immediately started growling, trying to get out, but a slap from one of the troopers made him stop. His eyes were all for Thrawn, burning. Sabine felt too hurt to drudge up such hatred, but she perhaps had enough energy to still be level-headed about this. Thrawn liked to negotiate, and with their comms down this long Hera and Kanan would know something was wrong. Despite how alone she felt now, they weren’t alone. She knew that. There was no way they wouldn’t get out of this.

“So, two rebels infiltrating a prison base,” Thrawn mused, hands behind his back. He paced, slowly. “I’m glad to see my hunch was correct, that you would be here.” With that he looked back at them, but he was facing the large windows at the front, and didn’t turn from them. Out there was nothing, the planet killed by the Empire. Nothing but black rock and ash was outside the base. “Usually, it’s not my job to go hunting rebels from base to base, but it didn’t take much work to figure out you would come here. Let me guess, Fulcrum sent you? How disappointing. How obvious.”

“Obvious?” Sabine asked. “Then who were those prisoners? What were they for?”

Thrawn seemed a tad surprised, and even amused, that Sabine hadn’t known that much.

He came over to them now, and Sabine tensed. Her already injured neck was hurting so much more for having to look up at him. She tried standing, but was shoved back down. The force of it had her breathing hitch, and the pain in her right side bloomed anew.

“You didn’t know? Then I suppose there’s no use telling you. They did their jobs.”

“Is that why you killed them?” Ezra growled. “You were done with them? They were expendable?”

“My dear boy, everyone is expendable.”

“Even you?” Sabine asked.

Thrawn’s brows lowered at this, his red eyes seeming to glow with a hatred she couldn’t fathom.

Before anyone else could speak an officer in a gray uniform came up to Thrawn. After a quick salute he said, “Grand Admiral, your ship is in range.”

Sabine went cold, her stomach dropping to her feet, and she had to try and stop herself from shaking. Why did it suddenly feel like her heart was in her throat?

Kriff.

She glanced at Ezra. If they were going to do something to escape, they had to do it now.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” He turned to the rest of them. “Take Miss Wren, and Bridger to my shuttle.”

Sabine shoved back into the hands grabbing her, standing her up. The extra force threw them off, and Sabine found herself toppling backwards with the stormtroopers. This stretched her torso, back making a bow, and she cried out from the sharp throb that went through her ribs. That sharp throbbing stretched around to her back, and now she was a tad afraid something was out of place too.

“Sabine? Sabine!”

More hands grabbed her, and then she was pulled up, face to face with Thrawn. His hands were on her, not any of the troopers’. She had fought in many battles and yet this made her throat go dry.

“You’re injured,” he commented as he set her feet on the floor in a surprisingly gentle manner.

She tried to laugh, and tilted her head, showing her right cheek and the swelling she felt there.

“So?” she challenged.

Why did it matter to him? Was he fascinated with her pain for some reason?

“Bridger doesn’t know.”

“Uh, I have a ball growing on the side of my face—I think everyone knows.”

“Sabine, what’s he talking about?”

“Nothing, Ezra!”

“Ooh, and a liar too.”

At this point she was fed up. Couldn’t he just shoot her or something instead of whatever this was?

“Just take me to your kriffing shuttle.”

Thrawn grinned, and Sabine thought maybe she stopped breathing. A grin did not look good on that face. This was one of the faces of the Empire, a face that hunted her even in her dreams. And always he killed her family in those dreams, leaving her alone in her suffering. Yet this time she knew whatever pain was coming would be directed at her.

He turned her around, and she fell back against him, which was far too personal for her taste. She could feel him breathing. How odd to realize that the Empire’s Grand Admiral breathed just as she did.

Before she could pull away he grabbed her; strong, blue fingers digging into her fractured ribs.

Sabine couldn’t feel her legs, and there was so much pressure in her lungs, in her head, that she thought they were going to explode, that she would explode.

She writhed in his grip, legs she was now a bit more aware of flailing, kicking backwards. Her body tried to cave in on itself, to escape the pressure of that devastating hand. She thought maybe she tried screaming, but there was barely enough air to do it.

Her throat seemed tight, her voice stuck in her, but perhaps a choked sound escaped.

Through it she thought she saw Ezra fighting off his guards, his binders, thought she maybe heard him calling her name, and begging for Thrawn to stop.

He did, and shoved her forward when she was done.

Surprisingly, her enemies let Ezra catch her, and hold her up. His thumbs wiped away tears she hadn’t known were there, and he was particularly careful with her right cheek. His own right cheek was a swollen mass of red and blue. There was a cut along it where the butt of the blaster had struck his cheekbone.

“Why did you hide that from me?” he asked, voice hoarse, broken.

She tried to smile, but was exhausted from the pain. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“How touching,” Thrawn commented.

Ezra sneered.

Stormtroopers grabbed them again, and that was when a blast from outside blew out the window. Sabine tried to get to the floor and wrap herself around Ezra as shards of transparisteel shot towards them. Ezra tried to do the same. They ended up huddled on the floor together, the building shaking from more blasts.

In the confusion Ezra got her binders off.

What ha happened? Was it the Ghost?

They had been in there a long time without comms, so Hera and Kanan must have figured out something bad was happening.

Luckily the bigger shards had passed Ezra and Sabine by. They had small nicks and cuts on their faces, a few on their bodies, but nothing major. Ezra reached out to ruffle the smaller pieces transparisteel out of her hair. She reached to do the same for him, but his hair was so short that all he had to do was shake his head.

Thrawn was up on his feet already, and Sabine looked around for her helmet, and their weapons. Ezra found them, calling them over with the force. He gave her forehead a quick kiss before putting her helmet on for her.

Another blast, and her comms came back on.

“Spectre-2?” Sabine asked, confirming this was indeed Hera.

“Spectres-5 and -6, you’re back with us?”

“It would seem so,” Ezra responded.

They were up on their feet, but even though Thrawn seemed to snarl at them, he passed them by. He had bigger problems, it would seem.

The Ghost came into view through the shattered window, and Kanan jogged out, ponytail blowing in the harsh wind.

“Need a lift?” he called.

Sabine collapsed against Ezra, partially in relief, partially from the pain that Thrawn had inflicted. She was worried about the state of her ribs at this point, and how dangerous this injury could get.

“Master, I’ve never been so glad to hear your voice,” Ezra said, wrapping an arm around Sabine’s waist, and lifting her other one to be around his shoulders.

She tried to hang on, and hoped this position wouldn’t jostle her too much.

Chopper trundled down the ramp, yelling at them. Blasterfire started up outside, even as a haze of smoke wafted into the command center from the fighting in the halls. Zeb, probably.

Kanan dodged blasts effortlessly, and took out his lightsaber.

“Yeah? Well, if you want to keep hearing it, get on board!”

“You okay to walk?” Ezra asked Sabine, and for a moment it seemed like just the two of them, all alone in the galaxy, but together.

“I’ll manage.”

Through a haze of pain, and hitched breaths, Sabine managed to get onto the Ghost. Ezra tried to help her up the ladder from the cargo bay, but she pushed at him, telling him to go help the others, that she was fine.

Sabine managed to get to the cockpit, where Hera was pushing everyone to get back on board.

Sabine collapsed into her seat, but she didn’t know whether to hunch over or lean back, or—

Every move hurt.

“What happened?” Hera demanded. “Are you okay?”

“Ambush,” she panted. “Thrawn’s here. He had the prisoners killed.”

Hera’s face fell. Then she said, “Well, that explains the Star Destroyer on our scopes.”

She urged everyone to get back to the Ghost, especially Zeb and Ezra since they seemed like they wanted to wipe out Thrawn here and now.

“But—” Ezra tried to argue.

“There is a Star Destroyer entering orbit,” Hera interrupted whatever Ezra was about to say. “We have to go. Now.”

There were a few panicked minutes Sabine tried to take in as everyone got on board.

Then they were taking off, and of course were met with X-wings as they were leaving the atmosphere.

Hera managed to twirl the Ghost onto its side, and Ezra helped Sabine stay in place, and then they dove between two X-wings, and were in hyperspace. The ship’s artificial gravity had an easier time now, and Sabine eased back into her seat.

They had escaped. And yet, the adrenaline hadn’t given way to relief for Sabine. As she was about to tell Hera she was injured, Ezra did so himself, and then he was taking her to her cabin.

He cursed the design that led to her bunk being atop the booth, and Sabine definitely agreed. Still, he sat her down, and she took her helmet off.

With the soothing hum of the engines, it was easy for her world to shrink down to just the two of them again, though she was not looking forward to this part.

Ezra almost reached out, but then pulled his hands back. “Where are you hurt?”

In answer Sabine took off her chestplate, and then lifted up her shirt. She looked down at the injury as well, and she was met with black and blue taking up a good portion of her torso. There was swelling a few inches below her right breast, and she thought she saw purple there as well.

“Oh, Sabine, why didn’t you tell me?”

“We were… a little busy,” she grunted out, partially lying.

“I’ll go get some ice. And I’ll let Hera know you need medical attention when we land.

Sabine grabbed his hand, and pulled him close. Her hand ghosted over the swelling on his face. “And what about you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Heard that before.”

“Oh, from you?” he teased, reaching up to hold her hand close.

“Shut up. Just go get some ice.”

When Ezra returned with ice, he held it to her torso for her, and another to her face.

“I think we need more for the backs of our heads later,” she said. “Are you dizzy at all?”

“No, no. I’m fine.”

Ezra swayed.

He pitched up against her legs, and with a sigh, he tried to make himself more comfortable. Sabine took over holding her own ice, wincing at the pressure of it against her ribs. As for her face, it was already feeling remarkably better.

“Okay, so I wasn’t the only one hiding an injury,” Ezra admitted into the comforting quiet.

“So why’d you do it?” Sabine asked, feeling the warmth of his body even through her clothes.

He rubbed at her leg, the one that had first been electrocuted, but she didn’t mention it, even as she winced. There was too much to worry about as it was.

“Didn’t want you to worry.”

“And I… I didn’t see a point,” she got out. Then she forced out, the words almost painful enough to bite her tongue, “I didn’t want you to think I was weak.”

Ezra sat up, and looked at her. “You? Weak? Sabine, you’re amazing, and one of the best fighters I’ve ever seen. If someone calls you weak then they don’t know poodoo.”

She gave him a rare smile. “Thanks.”

He rested back against her, and she felt for the lump on his head. She was rewarded with a wince from Ezra. Thankfully the lump wasn’t too big, but he’d been dizzy. Yet another thing to worry about. Still, he couldn’t be injured too badly, but knowing he was injured at all sent a pang through her heart.

Just then she laughed, or tried to before she was left gasping with pain, and almost toppling forward.

Ezra held her up, and after he looked at her, her bare skin she was showing, the bruises not covered by ice, their gazes met.

“What?” he said, almost a whisper.

“I think we need to agree to be honest with each other in the future.”

“I will if you will.”

Sabine smiled despite her pain, despite her difficulty breathing because of it, and she pulled Ezra closer. “Deal.”

She kissed him, and tasted the sweat on his upper lip, felt the warmth and softness she was so familiar with. For a moment she remembered the dried blood on her mouth, but he wasn’t hesitant with his kiss. Ezra pressed his lips against her earnestly; he hardly knew another way.

The universe could have sped on into its own self destruction by the time they pulled back. Sabine pressed her forehead to his, and she felt him lean into her, doing the same. They were living in each other’s space, their breaths, their shared warmth.

When Ezra spoke it was a quiet promise amongst pain, and Sabine wanted to kiss him again to hold it inside of her, but she found she didn’t need to—she trusted him:

“Deal.”

#ailesswhumptober2023 #day 4 #hiding an injury #star wars: rebels #star wars rebels #star wars #rebels #swr #sabezra #whump #fanfiction #writing #my writing

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omgreally · 3 years

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Shelter

Din Djarin/F!Reader Almost E, I Swear, Eventually Warnings: Speaking of swearing - some, idiots who should bang already not doing the thing, slow-burn-mutual-pining-friends-to-lovers-with-angst, probably as manyof my favourite tropes as I can think of to throw in there too! smut to follow.

Summary: What is a Mandalorian without a ship, a clan, or a Creed? Lost, that's what. Untethered. A torn cloak tossed by the wind. So he goes to the only place - the only person - he can think of: You. A smuggler with less scruples than friends, and somehow, you ended up with the Mandalorian as one of them. As for what's next, neither of you know. It's up to you to muddle it out - together.

Part One Here / Read on AO3

Part Two

Mando is wearing the helmet when he joins you for breakfast.

You shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s the fact that he’s still here more than anything else that makes you do a double-take.

There’s something subdued about him as he slinks into the kitchen like a wounded cat, late enough that you’ve already finished eating.

You woke early this morning, expecting to find him gone as if he was never there. Gone to leave you wondering if you imagined the time a helmetless Mando turned up in the middle of a rainy night and kriffing upended everything you thought you knew about him.

As you half-expect, he doesn’t say anything to you while you fix him a plate of food. He just sits silently at the counter - the very counter he had you shoved up against last night.

You try not to think about it as you place the plate in front of him along with a mug of steaming kaf, all without meeting his mirrored gaze. You’re not sure why, but you really, really don’t want to talk about it, despite promising him you would.

Instead, you clear your throat and say, “Sleep okay?”

Mando pauses his swirling of the mug, and the familiar angle of his visor tips towards you. “Fine. Thank you.”

His voice is stiff - oddly formal - sounds slightly muffled on the sibilant consonants through the vocabulator. You like his voice, but you decide you like it better unfiltered.

A way, you remind yourself, that you never should have heard.

You don’t ask him about the helmet. It’s just the unspoken rule between you: You don’t ask, and he doesn’t mention it.

Like last night. You won’t ask, and he doesn’t mention it.

You’re not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.

“You can relax,” you tell him. “This place is small, but off the grid. Safe,” you summarize, leaning against the cabinet behind you.

“Nobody seems to visit this planet,” he agrees with you, painfully neutral. You snort derisively.

“Yeah, no shit. That’s why I chose it.”

The helmet bobs in a nod, and you picture a pair of dark, sad eyes. You look away and sip your kaf and there’s silence between you, more awkward than usual.

Eventually, the silence is broken by a soft hiss ing sound, and you glance back at Mando and watch as he lifts his helm with a thumb to drink from his own mug. You know the shape of the lips that press against the ceramic rim, more intimately than you ever expected to. Again, you look away.

Fuck. You’re too old for this, approaching middle-age. And you only got this far because you’re tough . Looking at the Mandalorian right now, you don’t feel tough at all.

“You got a plan? Where you’re gonna go after...this?” you wonder aloud, unable to take the tension any longer. The helmet lowers back into place, and you purse your lips in a frown.

“I think I’m supposed to reclaim Mandalore.”

“Huh?” Your brow wrinkles, your whole face now screwed up in confusion. Mando sighs, the great shoulders heaving in a shrug, and he shakes his silver head.

“Never mind.”

“Right.” You both sip your caffeinated cups quietly for a moment. “Nice spear, by the way.”

You hadn’t had time to comment on it, rising prickly from over Mando’s shoulder like a flagless mast of warning. He glances back at it as if he forgot about it, then shrugs again.

“Beskar, right?” Again, something you’ve never really talked about. You’re a weapons smuggler and he is a walking weapon. Somehow, by ignoring that fact, you were able to form a close business relationship. But the one thing you don’t do is talk about the Beskar.

You didn’t do a lot of things until last night.

“Yes.” He sounds cautious, shifting into a wary stance without seeming conscious of it. You sigh aloud.

“Relax, Mando. I’m not gonna try to steal the armour off your back. Yeah, yeah- ‘try it and I’ll kill you’, I know,” you intercept before he can say it, and he leans back as if in contemplation, just… staring at you.

“I know,” he says at last, and then he lifts the helmet to sip at his kaf. Without looking away.

“You put it back on,” you say, breaking another rule as you take a seat next to him.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

The helm tilts down. “Habit,” he says. Almost sadly.

You reach out before you even mean to and touch his wrist, the space in between his glove and his sleeve you didn’t even realize was exposed. He withdraws like a tortoise, retreating back into his silver shell.

“You can stay as long as you like,” you say, pulling back as well and spinning away in the same movement. “I have a job tonight, but I trust you not to burn the place down.”

All Din hears is ‘I trust you’, and he’s suddenly, impossibly glad he chose to don the helm today. You turn away, and he blinks so quickly his gaze blurs before he frowns and looks down, at his hands - clenched into fists.

“Thank you,” he croaks, woodenly, at your back. You twitch as if the words are blaster bolts missing you by a hair’s breadth, and nod without turning. Then you’re just...gone.

Din doesn’t know why he came here. He’s not even sure if he’s glad he did or not. But it just seemed to make sense , it was the one place he hadn’t been yet, the one he knew he could rely on to be there .

Ironic, considering the fact you’re a criminal.

He hasn’t known you that long, not in standard years, but it feels like longer; he doesn’t even remember where you first met, or how. Your circles intersected with his somehow without being diametrically opposed, and that’s how it went on for years, a not-quite arrangement whenever the two of you fell into eachother's orbid. So Mando became a good customer, - when he had credits, and an absent one when he wasn’t. And that seemed to suit you, too.

Aside from that (and your foul mouth), you’re a bit of a cypher. You told him about this place while dead-sober, looking him straight in the visor and saying ‘ If you ever need a place to go, remember these coordinates. You’ll know when you’ll need it .’ And you were right: He did.

Mando looks into his mug, at the lukewarm kaf cooling dark in its depths. He sets it down and pushes himself to his feet. He hesitates before he reaches up to tug the helmet off and, gingerly, he tucks it under his arm as he sets out to find you.

He finds you in the office. It’s really more of an armory; the walls are lined with weapon racks and arms of all description are stacked on the desks around a console. He examines a suspiciously moist -looking vibroblade before forcing himself to meet your gaze, and you cross your arms, your jaw set.

Din remembers the feel of that jaw under his mouth - the shape of your lips - the heat of your skin, and he finds his hands curling into fists again of their own volition, the leather of his gloves creaking.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to repay you,” he says. It’s a woeful summary of everything he almost wants to say to you. You tilt your head, and your expression softens.

“Mando, don’t be ridiculous. You know you’ve always got an open line of credit with me.”

It’s true - he has. But he’s never had to use it much up until now. A few thousand credits here and there, and you knew he was good for it; Mando always paid up, with interest when he had the currency. The life of the bounty hunter was tough, occasionally work was irregular, and you understood that. Your business ebbed and flowed in much the same way.

You know this is different, though. You know that because of his face. A face he’s letting you see, for a second time.

A dark, perverse little part of you wonders if he’s going to kiss you again.

You still haven't talked about it, and that suits you fine. What would you say? Probably some bullshit like it was because of the alcohol, or head trauma, or something. It doesn’t matter. If he’s going to pretend it didn’t happen, you have no choice but to play along.

“Din,” he says, and you’re struck by the hollowness of his voice. “My name’s Din.”

He tosses the helmet onto the desk in front of you. It lands with a clang and rolls onto its side facing you, and you stare at the vacant gaze of the sideways visor in half-horror, half-amazement.

“I hope that covers it,” Mando intones. You reach out as the impossibly smooth surface of pure Beskar shimmers up at you. It’s smooth and cool beneath your fingers and strangely personal, like it’s got some kind of weight you can’t understand as you lift it from the bench.

You turn to Mando and press the helmet back into his hands. “This doesn’t belong to me,” you tell him as you look up, up into his dark, dark eyes. He’s close enough to touch - close enough to just lean up and brush your mouth against his jaw, his chin, the tense surface of his lips-

But you don’t.

Instead you give him a nod, a firm pat on the shoulder, and try not to inhale as you brush past and slip from the room.

Again.

You only hope he doesn’t follow you until you can get your expression under control - and your breathing.

#shelter #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you #mando/reader #mando/you #mando x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fic #mandalorian fic

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theewritingroomm · 4 years

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Happy’s Girl

Summary: Happy finally get the courage to ask out Y/N Telford, who happens to be the daughter of none other than Chibs Telford. But neither Happy or Y/N stopped to think about how Chibs would react. Pairing: Happy Lowman x Reader Word Count: 2,583 Warnings: Out of character Happy, kinda. swearing. A/N: Happy is probably written out of character but I just love the ‘he’s a bad guy to everyone but her’ trope. Also, for those that wanted a continuation of THIS Happy imagine, this is the whole one shot. Tell me what you think!! Text divider by: @firefly-graphics

Y/N was walking out of the garage office and making her way to her car when she heard someone calling her name. She figured it was one of the guys coming to ask her about something related to the garage or to ask her if she had seen Gemma. Which she had not. But what she was not expecting was to turn around and see Happy standing there, and not meeting her eye. It confused her, she was used to seeing the killer hold a stare with anyone and not back down.

“What can I do for you Happy?” she asked, “Need something from the office?”

“No, I actually just need to ask you something,” Happy paused, taking a second to look around for others. Y/N waited, hoping he would continue.

“I was just wondering if you’d let me take you out?”

As soon as the words left his mouth Y/N’s stomach erupted in butterflies. She had never expected one of the guys, let alone Happy to be asking her out. Especially considering her father had a seat at the same table and the repercussions for dating his daughter were always great. But Y/N could handle her father and his temper, and neither were going to stand in the way of going out with the guy she had been ogling at for as long as she could remember.

With a smile on her face Y/N replied, “Of course Hap, I’d love to.”

A wide smile broke across his face at her words. “Tonight? I can pick you up around 8.”

“That sounds great, I’ll see you then.” Y/N replied, the smile never leaving her face as she got into her car.

Y/N was putting her earrings in when her doorbell rang. She let out an excited gasp as she run out of her bedroom and towards her front door. Sliding to a stop in front of it she took a moment to gather to breath before opening the door.

“Hey,” she said breathless as the door opened to reveal Happy on the other side.

“Hi,” he replied, nearly as breathless as Y/N had been. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you,” Y/N mumbled as she felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she stepped out of her doorway.

Happy took a step back to let Y/N lock her front door. He took a moment to admire her figure in the jeans that she had chosen to wear, thinking to himself that she was the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, with the best ass he’d ever laid eyes on. But that was something he would tell her later.

“You ready to go?” Y/N’s voice broke Happy out of his thoughts.

Happy smiled and held his hand out for her to take. Y/N happily took it, letting him lead her to the motorcycle that sat next to her car. Happy handed her the helmet that was hung over the handlebars before mounting his bike. Y/N followed him shortly after, buckling the helmet as she slung her leg over the bike.

“Hold on tight,” Happy said over his shoulder, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he revved the engine of the motorcycle.

Nearly thirty minutes later Happy was pulling his bike into the empty parking lot of what looked like a bowling alley outside of Charming. As the two dismounted from the bike Y/N sent Happy a questioning look, as if to ask why the parking lot was empty.

Happy seemed to catch on because he began to speak, “Buddy owns the place and owed me a favor. Figured we’d get a better chance to be more open if no one else was here.”

Y/N simply nodded, knowing better than to question him as to why he was owed a favor. But she also couldn’t fault his thinking, which is why she did not argue with him when he grabbed her hand and led them to the front door.

The door opened easily, indeed opening to an empty bowling alley. However, all of the lights were on and there was even a table set up at the start of one of the lanes piled with different types of food and drink. It shocked Y/N, as she had just been expecting a simple dinner or movie. She never expected Happy to put in so much effort to impress her.

“Happy, this is...” she began, but was quickly interrupted by Happy.

“It’s nothin’.”

Y/N shook her head with a smile on her face, knowing that this man wasn’t going to accept any compliment or praise from her. And she didn’t get the chance to argue with him as he led her to the table. Once there Happy took a moment to set up the scoreboard for their game while Y/N poured them both a small glass of beer from the pitcher on the table.

“And we’re all set.” Happy spoke as he turned around to face Y/N who was unable to wipe the smile off of her face.

Nearly four hours later the two of them were walking up Y/N’s driveway and to her front door. Y/N was still unable to rid her face of the smile that she had been sporting all night. From the surprise that was the bowling alley to the good food and great company she could not have asked for a better date.

“I had a great time tonight,” Y/N said as Happy walked her to her door after what she would consider a pretty good date.

She turned to face him when they reached the door, smiling up at him. He gave her a small smile in return, the emotion actually reaching his eyes.

“I did too,” Happy replied, taking a step closer to her so she was less than an arm’s length away from him. He reached up to brush a piece of hair out of her face, watching her e/c eyes flash to his lips.

Happy took that as all the invitation he needed to lean down and brush their lips together; not kissing her yet giving her the chance to pull away is she wished. But Y/N didn’t pull away, instead she placed on of her hands on the side of his face, casting one final glace into his deep brown eyes before pulling him the rest of the way to her, slotting their lips together.

It was a soft, deep kiss. One that knocked the breath out of Y/N’s lungs and had her craving for more. Despite the feeling deep within her she pulled away, smiling as she could still feel the kiss on her lips.

“Wow,” she breathed out against his lips, touching her forehead to his.

Happy chuckled, pulled back a little more to look her in the eye, “You wanna do this again sometime?”

Y/N nodded, “Pick me up next Friday at eight.”

As the weeks went on everyone could see the change in Happy’s demeanor, but no one was complaining. They all just wanted to know what girl had Happy so whipped. So, while sitting at the clubhouse bar a few weeks later Tig decided to ask.

“Hey Hap,” Tig started, waving the larger man over, “I’ve got to ask man, whose got you so pussy whipped?”

The handful of men around them laughed, including Jax and Chibs. Happy looked from Tig to Chibs, trying to come up with something to say that wasn’t going to anger the Scotsman. But he soon realized that that was going to be next to impossible as the woman he’s been seeing is none other than his daughter.

So Happy decided to bite the bullet and come clean. He’d rather Chibs knock him to the ground now rather than later, or in front of Y/N.

“Y/N,” he mumbled, knowing that they all heard him. That much was evident by the sound of a chair scraping against the floor.

“My fuckin’ daughter,” Chibs seethed as he got nose to nose with Happy. Happy nodded as the club house went silent. “Ya’ bangin’ my fuckin’ kid!”

“Dating,” Happy replied, not backing down now. “We’re dating.”

Chibs shook his head, anger pouring off the man in waves. “No, end it now. She’s not dating a Son, she deserves more than this life.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Happy began, “She deserves so much more than I can give her, and I’ve tried to tell her than. But she’s chosen to stay.”

Happy took a deep breath, shocked with himself for feeling so many things about this situation and his girl, he wasn’t used to it. “I think I may love her,” he continued.

The clubhouse went deadly silent. No one dared make a sound as the anger rose in Chibs, rather many of them took a step back just as Chibs brought his arm back and slugged Happy across the face, sending the larger man stumbling back a step or two. Gasps and exclamations broke out of the men surrounding Happy and Chibs, waiting to see what would happen next. Many of them expected Happy to come back and lay Chibs out, none of them would blame him if he did. But Happy didn’t do anything but wipe what little blood escaped the cut on his lip.

“I’m not gonna fight you brother,” Happy said, putting his hands up near his chest. “It would kill her to know we went at it. But I’m not gonna lie to you brother, I think I love her.”

Chibs was seething, he didn’t want to hear anything Happy had to say especially when it came to his daughter. His daughter who he loved with everything in his heart, who he so desperately wanted away from the club life, his little girl. He wanted to hit Happy again but knew that he was right it would tear Y/N up. So instead Chibs turned around in a huff and walked away from the group of men, storming in the direction of the office near the garage.

Y/N was sitting in the office with Gemma working on paperwork for the garage when the door opened. Both women looked up from their desks to look at the person who had opened the door, seeing Chibs standing in the doorway.

“Gem, can you give Y/N and I a minute?” he asked with very little emotion in his voice.

The older woman got up from her desk without a word, shooting Y/N a smirk and knowing look over her shoulder. Once the door closed behind her Chibs took a step forward towards his daughter.

“Y/N Telford, how could you not tell me?” her father growled out trying to keep himself from yelling.

Y/N was stunned for a moment. Her father had not talked to her like that since he caught her sneaking out of the house in high school. But she also had no idea what he was talking about, there was a lot that she didn’t let her father know simply because it would give him a heart attack if she did. And she let him know that.

“Dad, I don’t know what you’re talking about,”

“Don’t play fuckin’ dumb wit’ me. I know,” Chibs let out a long, angry breath. “I know your screwin’ Hap.”

Y/N looked at him stunned, “And? We’re dating, what’s the big deal?”

Chibs stood there with his mouth open, stunned himself. He wanted to yell at her but refrained, knowing there was probably already a crowd of bikers standing outside the door.

“He’s a goddamned Son, Y/N! He’s done things that most can’t come back from. He’s just no good for you.”

Y/N shook her head as she stood up from her desk chair. She wanted to meet her dads eye, show him that she’s still the spitfire that he had raised her to be.

“None of that fucking matters Dad. You’re a Son, you’ve done the same things and I never look at you any different.” She took a step closer, “So why the fuck does it matter that its Happy? He’s more than proven that he will be able to take care of me, to keep me safe. And he makes me so happy Dad, isn’t that all you’ve ever wanted for me to be happy?”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, trying to keep the tears from forming or falling. She didn’t want to argue with her dad especially not over something like this.

“Of course, I want you to be happy,” he nearly shouted, “But not with a Son, not with someone who could be putting you in danger.”

“This fuckin’ club is my family because of you and that’s why there’s always a chance that I’m in danger. So why shouldn’t I find a guy who can make me happy and protect me against the people that are after me because of you?” Y/N sighed as she looked at her father. He stood in the same spot with the same amount of rage behind his eyes. “Forget it, I’m not going to keep arguing with you.”

Y/N pushed her way past her father, catching his shoulder on her way to the door. She ripped the door open and watched a dozen men outside attempt to look busy as she stomped through the parking lot. No one attempted to stop her instead letting her storm to her car and peel out of the parking lot. Everyone cut their eyes to Chibs who still seemed to be fuming as the roar of a motorcycle’s engine roared through the air. Signaling Happy had decided to follow Y/N out of the parking lot.

Y/N slammed her front door as she walked into her house her anger at her father coming to the surface. She was livid with her father; he had no right to be that angry at her for dating someone. She wasn’t sixteen anymore, she was an adult who was completely capable of thinking for herself and making her own decisions. She didn’t need her father to tell her want to do anymore, so why he thought he was still able to was astonishing.

“Babe?” Happy’s voice sounded through the house, reaching Y/N in the kitchen and breaking her from her thoughts. However, she did not respond to him scared that if she did she would end up crying or screaming.

“Baby,” he tried one more time as he stepped foot into the kitchen. Once in the kitchen he saw Y/N leaning against her countertop with her eyes closed, practically shaking. As he moved into the kitchen Y/N didn’t react to her boyfriend, not until he was directly in front of her and pulling her into his arms.

“Why does he have to be such an ass?” Y/N mumbled into Happy’s chest as she wrapped her own arms around Happy’s torso.

“Because he wants what is best for his baby girl.” Happy rubbed his hand up and down Y/N’s back as she tightened her arms around him. “And I’m not that.”

Y/N looked up at Happy with wet eyes, the fear of him breaking up with her running through her mind, “But you are Hap, you’re the best guy I could ever ask for even if you are a little rough around the edges.”

Happy cracked a small smile before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. As he did he thought to himself that they were going to be okay, the two of them would get through this and Chibs would pull his head out of his ass eventually.

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runwithwolvcs · 3 years

Text

You Know I'm No Good - eleven

just one more

Warnings: none just fluff

It's you,

because no one else makes sense

Pauls PoV

Paul had dropped Tallulah just before midnight, waiting until she had made it safely into her home before heading off towards Sam’s, which wasn’t too far from the Forresters. He cut through the well-known woods as a shortcut before coming out into the same clearing Sam and he had found Tallulah and her friends just one week prior. Where he had found Tallulah and that Chase kid all wrapped up in one another, now mixed with the boy he had found her with tonight, sent waves of anger through Paul's body. Not necessarily from jealousy, more so to do with his imprints lack of care of who she chooses as company. Paul knows he's not much better than the boys she calls her friends, he was them when he was in high school. Before he had shifted at least.

He had known trying to figure her out wouldn’t be easy, especially with the rumors that had been spread like wildfire amongst the tribe before she had even stepped foot onto the reservation. When Rachel had pointed her out at the bonfire her first night, the night everything had changed for him, he couldn’t help but notice how different she seemed. He knew that she had grown up in the city, but even just the air around her, the way she didn’t care that everyone's eyes were focused on her, was so refreshing in comparison to most of the younger girls on the res. Surely, he should’ve known just from that thought she would be special to him, considering who he had shown up to the bonfire with was no longer a thought in his mind, but only when they had made eye contact was it solidified.

Her.

His other half.

And just like that everything had changed. He had wanted to say hello, introduce himself and if it wasn’t for the immediate connection, he would have, but he could feel her resentment. To what he was unsure of, but it was enough to send a ripple of anger through him, and with Rachel's reaction to Tallulah, it was enough to send him over the edge completely, causing him to leave the bonfire early and his imprint.

His first interaction with her had not gone to plan either. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but the fiery girl he had met that day excited him, he wanted to know more of her, and still does. Even though she had spent the week helping Paul at the bookstore, and more and more of her personality had come out besides just the exterior front she had put up with him, he wanted to know more about her. What her life was like back in Seattle, what her interests are, besides causing what seems to be an infinite amount of trouble for herself. Her favorite book, and movie. Everything.

Walking down the dirt road up to the familiar wooden cottage, Paul could see his truck sitting off to the side meaning Embry had beaten him back, hopefully he had filled them in too, he thought to himself, wanting nothing more than to just go on his patrol shift and then head to bed.

Walking through the door he was met with Sam and Emily sitting at their dining room table, he could hear that Embry was in the kitchen, no doubt looking for something to eat. They had stopped their conversation as soon as Paul had entered, Sam was now looking at him with a stern look, whereas Emilys was more concerned, “She’s fine.” he reassured Emily, and himself.

Emily had quickly spoken to Tallulah after Paul had unintentionally shifted, something that was so rare for him to do nowadays. Emily was the one who was able to pull out any information from Tal, which he was grateful for, but from the look on Sams, he was not so happy,

“You should have gone to Joseph,” Sam started, causing Paul to scoff, “That's what he’s asked of us, Paul. I let you get away with keeping her night in the clearing from him, but this, this was something he should’ve dealt with himself. Tallulah is his daughter, and if you’re always there to bail her out of the problems she creates for herself, then you’re undermining the limits he’s set with her.” Sam spoke with authority, like Paul was back in school having been sent to the principal's office.

He wanted to roll his eyes, instead he just said, “His daughter? His daughter that he knows nothing about. His daughter that he completely abandoned when she was a child. His daughter, that he doesn’t want to be truly happy because if he did he wouldn’t have come to me and asked for me to ignore the imprint. I’m not sorry that I didn’t go to him, because that was the last thing she needed tonight.” With each sentence he got angrier and angrier, causing Sam to stand up from his spot at the table.

Even the thought of the day Joseph had called a meeting with himself and Sam could cause him to shift on the spot. Being told from the day he first shifted that finding your imprint was a gift, and then being told to stay away from her once he had found her left him in a state of permanent anger. The worst part was that he actually listened and did what he was told despite seeing the repercussions it was having on her.

“Whatever you may think of him, Paul, does not mean you get to overrule what he says. None of this would have happened tonight if she had listened to her father.” Sam reasoned, and before Paul could defend his actions yet again, Emily stepped in,

“I think what Sam is trying to say is that Tallulah needs that family structure. Joseph wants to give her that, and because you imprinted on her so suddenly, he just wants to make sure she still gets it before you tell her everything. That's why he wanted you to fight back from the pull, and obviously that didn’t work out quite like anyone expected. But you protecting her from any consequence that she needs to face is only going to re-solidify for her that she doesn’t need that family structure in her life. Which could cause problems for both of you, once she finds out she’s linked to you for the rest of her life.” Emily explained gently.

Paul ran his hands over his face in exhaustion. He knew she was right, that Sam was too. But he didn’t want to hurt her, their friendship was fragile already and telling her dad about her whereabouts would only fracture it even more. “I’m going to tell her everything. Whether Joseph wants me to or not, she deserves to know. Hell, she deserves to know why he abandoned her and her mom, too.”

Tallulah’s POV:

The next morning Tallulah woke up in a state of sorrow, wanting nothing more than to just be left alone by everyone. Deciding that the only way she was going to truly find seclusion was to go for a hike by herself. It wasn’t the safest option she had come up with but it definitely was the most fool-proof.

She stood at the entrance of a path leading into the woods, pulling her jacket tighter around body as the wind picked up. The only thing she had bothered to bring with her was a small backpack carrying a water bottle. She had left her phone on the kitchen counter next to a note that had said she had gone on a hike, so that her dad and Kira knew she didn’t have it. She didn’t want to see or be contacted by anyone, and she meant it wholeheartedly. Walking into the forest following the worn, dirt path through the what seemed to be never ending trees, the smell of the earthy air mixed with the leftover rain smell from earlier in the morning was intoxicating. She loved it. It was something she craved in Seattle, which was a never ending smell of car fumes and other awful aromas. It was something she grew to love, but she never felt at peace there. She felt as if there was a piece of her missing in Seattle, and being back in La Push had seemingly filled that feeling, though she would never admit it outloud to anyone, ever.

Tallulah felt free in the woods as she continued down the overused path, following all the twists and turns, up all the little hills. The crisp air burned her lungs as she struggled to keep her breathing laboured. She was never one for exercise and it was really starting to show but she continued anyway. The wind seemingly picked up the higher she got from the ground, the leaves of the trees around her bristling with it. This was the most at peace she had felt since arriving in LaPush. No one was around to tell her what to do or how to act, just herself and her thoughts. It was nice for a change.

She arrived at a little clearing just in front of a cliff and decided to take a small break, leaning up against one of the many trees around her. She could hear the waves of the ocean from her spot, but was too nervous to get closer to the edge of the cliff.

A branch breaking nearby caused Tallulah to swivel quickly in the direction she thought it came from, the feeling of being watched by something giving her an uneasy feeling, she forced herself to continue in the direction she had been headed. She was too far into her hike to turn back now, she thought to herself. Walking up another steep area, she held onto a tree to keep her steady as she climbed the rough terrain. The bark of the old tree felt rough on her palm. As she got herself past the steep area, Tallulah surveyed what the next bit of path looked like as she continued slowly, the feeling of being watched had grown severely. The rustle of the trees and bushes around signalling that there must be an animal nearby, probably just a bunny, she thought to herself.

Taking her backpack off her back, she knelt down to unzip it, the ground keeping it up right. Grabbing the water bottle she had packed before zipping it back up. Taking a sip as she stood up, a howl ripped through the air from the area she had just been in, too close for comfort causing Tallulah to grab her bag off the ground and begin to speed walk further up the path, looking behind her to make sure the wolf wasn’t behind her. When she turned back around, Paul was walking towards her. An unreadable expression on his face. He was shirtless, in his usual cargo shorts and running shoes despite the fact that the wind felt more like knives.

“What is wrong with you? Do you know how many people are looking for you right now?” he asked, the concern was evident in his tone.

“I left a note.” she stated bluntly. It's not like she just ran away.

“And your phone!” he exclaimed.

“I wanted to be alone.” she tried to justify but Paul was having none of it.

“You can’t just come out here alone, Tal. It’s dangerous.” he stressed, “You could’ve gotten hurt and nobody would have known.” That's a fair point, she thought to herself.

“I’m not alone.” she said as she walked past him, continuing on the path, “You’re here.”

They continued forward, Paul following a few steps behind, before she stopped at another lookout. Tallulah was exhausted but too stubborn to admit, especially to Paul. There were a few picnic benches in the clearing of the lookout that she had walked over to, sitting on top with her feet on the bench, taking a sip of her water before handing it to Paul.

“How’d you find me?” she asked curiously as he took a swig of her bottle and placed it on top of the table before sitting next to her.

“Only so many trails near your house. Guess I got lucky choosing the one I did” he spoke softly. Tallulah nodded her head, looking him over. He looked so tired and she felt a bit guilty considering the events of the night before. Noticing the circular tattoo on his shoulder, two wolves howling, she couldn’t help but trace it lightly with her finger, amazed at the intricacy of. It really puts all of her little sticks and pokes to shame.

“When did you get this?” she asked quietly, shifting her eyes from the tattoo to his face.

He cleared his throat before saying, “When I was sixteen. It’s kind of a long story.” he trailed off.

She nodded her head and smiled before saying, “It’s nice.”

“You’ve got some pretty interesting ones too,” he teased, “I particularly like the little ghost you’ve got.”

Tallulah laughed, “I thought I did a pretty good job.” she said, shoving the sleeve of her jacket up her arm to look at the little ghost on her forearm that she had done when she was 15 on Halloween.

“You apply to any colleges yet” Paul asked curiously to which Tallulah nodded her head.

“Yeah, I did back in Seattle but I’m not going to get into any of them so..” she trailed off, shoving her sleeve back down her arm, hiding her hands inside her sleeve. He was looking at her, and she couldn't tell if he was confused or concerned by her statement. “I was in the arts stream at my old school. All my applications needed an extensive portfolio that I’m never going to get to finish so they're basically already rejections.” She explained, although she didn’t know if she was upset about the fact that she didn’t have all of the qualifications for the schools she had chosen. She didn’t even know if she had wanted to go to college.

“Do you regret not going to college?” she asked him, turning her body so she was facing him.

“No,” Paul shook his head, “I didn’t really have plans to go. Couldn’t you finish your portfolio here?”

“No, I don’t have any of the equipment and it's all too expensive. Besides, I don’t want to waste my time and money just to be told no.”

He nodded his head in understanding, “You’ve still got lots of time to figure out what you want to do next.” he placed his warm hand on her knee and gave it a comforting squeeze causing her cheeks to flush more than what the cold had already caused. Whether the cold was making her mind delirious and the warmth radiating off Paul's body was too inviting, she couldn’t stop herself from leaning over and pressing her cold lips to his warm ones. It was soft and gentle but also sent shockwaves through her body.

Realizing what she had just done, Tallulah pulled away quickly, eyes wide and wild, “I shouldn’t have.. Oh my..I’m sorry, you have -” she rambled before being cut off by Paul pressing his lips back to hers. His large hand came to rest on her cheek, her eyes fluttered closed. She kissed him back with the same need that he had. It felt like one timeless and passionate moment that she would never be able to relive again and she reveled in it.

Tallulah brought her hand up to the back of his neck, tangling her fingers into his overgrown hair. It was all so sensual and smooth, nothing like any of the boys she had ever kissed before. Nothing like Xander. She felt guilty for thinking about him while her lips were connected to Pauls but it brought her back down to reality, she pulled away from him keeping her eyes cast to the ground. She separated herself from him and stood up from the picnic table, “We shouldn’t have done that.” she said quickly.

“Tal,” Paul reached for her but she shook her head, “You have a girlfriend! And I-” she stopped herself taking a deep breath, looking up at him not knowing what to say.

Paul chuckled, “I don’t have a girlfriend. But hey” he raised his hands up in defense, “It was a momentary lapse of judgement on your part but I’m not going to apologize. I wanted to kiss you, so I did.” he stated.

“Fine , you don’t have a girlfriend and I kissed you first but it’s never going to happen again.” she tried to state firmly, knowing damn well she wanted nothing more to walk up and kiss him again.

“Fine.” he agreed, standing up and in front of her. She sighed exasperatedly, standing on her tippy toes, both hands clasping his cheeks, “Just one more.”

Taglist: @cperry0516 , @bhasbhabiessss, @fuzzyfingersandcavier @haventdecidedyet

#paul lahote #paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote x oc #paul lahote imagine #twilight wolf pack #you know im no good

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stillebesat · 4 years

Text

Be My Dad

Sanders Sides: Janus, Logan A Vague AU Writing Prompt: @wildhorsewolf asked: Guess I'm a parent now with Janus being the dad and Logan being the kid Blurb: Janus has no interest in being a parental figure to a kid, but trying to convince the universe of that is another thing entirely. Fic Type: Familial Soulmate!AU Overall Fic Warnings: Mentions of Scars Taglist in Reblog.

To most souls, a food court was a necessary evil. Loud. Lots of people. But plenty of food options all together in one place. Perfect for those who liked a variety of choices or those who had picky eaters in tow.

It was a place to meet up with friends, family, or business associates. A place where one could sit back and observe society at work. To see people at their best...and most definitely at their worst.

There was something soothing about the chaos that Janus enjoyed...as a spectator. He could never imagine being right in the middle of it.

Not unless he was doing what he was doing right now. Trying to hide in plain sight in the middle of a crowd.

After all. He was thirty now. Single. Childless.

Obviously a menace to society in a universe that seemed obsessed with everyone being part of a ‘family.’

A Universe that had decreed that all adults who remained childless by the age of thirty, would then be subjected to being bombarded with children in need of a proper parent figure to bond with in their lives.

He exhaled, absently brushing against the raised scar on his cheek, barely looking up as a child burst out wailing nearby.

He’d checked earlier. That particular wailer hadn’t had the golden sparks. It meant he was safe.

For now.

He ran a hand through his hair, flipping another page in his notebook before he continued scrawling on the page. Maybe Virgil had actually been onto something when he said he was vanishing into the wilderness of Europe for the rest of his life.

Sure, Janus had laughed six months ago when his best friend had turned thirty and begun complaining about all the kids coming out of the woodwork to ask him to be their Dad.

It’d seemed impossible at the time. To have children want to come up to Mr. Shadows Incarnate and expect Virgil to put them to bed and tell a bedtime story.

Now though, he understood why Vee had become more reluctant to leave his house as the year had worn on. Because the mini spawns really had come out of nowhere once his own thirtieth birthday hit.

And it was awful.

Wherever he went, it was inevitable that some child would approach him, shimmering golden sparks floating around them indicating that they were looking for a Parent Bond.

It was also as inevitable that he would scare them away just as quickly.

After all, his halfmoon scar and creepy yellow eyes had caused plenty of kids to scream and run with a single look years before his thirtieth birthday.

No, at least Virgil had a bit of that shy emo charm that made him more approachable, even if the merest appearance of anyone under four feet had his best friend going pale as a corpse and ducking out before the kid could take more than two steps towards him.

Privately he was certain Virgil would find a kid perfect for him before the year was out, despite his best friend’s attempt to avoid the inevitable.

He knew Virge would make a good dad. Compassionate. Protective. His best friend had a dozen other traits that would benefit him when the right child flared with him.

Unlike Janus.

Who could make a grown man cry with less than four words and a glower.

No. He couldn’t imagine having any child coming to him in the middle of the night expecting comfort.

He knew he was intimidating.

He knew he could be scary.

It wouldn’t be fair to subject a child to that on a daily basis.

Honestly, it felt like a slap to the face that no matter how much he achieved, how many degrees he got, or businesses he owned, or careers he pursued, or money he made…

The universe felt that one couldn’t be complete unless said person also had a screaming, slobbering, dirty child in tow.

Janus ran a hand through his hair, again brushing the crescent scar on his cheek as he looked up long enough to watch a cluster of mothers with their dozen and a half children in strollers rush by, seeking salvation at the nearest set of golden arches with at least four of the kids already screaming for their happy meal toy.

Even if he did make a connection with any kid brave enough to approach him...Janus could never imagine trying to coerce a screaming brat into eating their chicken nuggets all by himself. Could never stand to walk around with food, slobber or worse, vomit stains on his best suits like a badge of honor. Could never be patient enough to listen to the long and rambling and pointless stories he’d heard multiple parents suffer through while observing them here in the food court.

No. There was no way Janus would allow the universe a say in how he ran these next five years of his life.

He had goals.

Life plans.

And he didn’t need some interfering Being with an obviously unhealthy parent complex ruining that.

The scrapping of a chair being pulled back broke through the gentle hum the noise the chaos of the food court had receded to, causing Janus to look up from his paper in time to see a boy, wearing a faded black long sleeved shirt with matching glasses and thankfully older than the screaming toddler throwing french fries six tables over, plop down in the seat across from him.

A child. With golden sparks shimmering in the air around him.

Oh goodie.

Janus barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. And here he’d thought that the fact that he’d caused a pair of twin girls, a baby, three boys, six preteens, and four other children under the age of five to scream in terror and/or burst into tears before the lunch rush had even started would have been enough for the universe to call it quits for the day on attempting a Parent Bond.

“I have a prospersition for you.” The boy said, making eye contact. Janus blinked, pen pausing mid stroke as he raised an eyebrow to the child. Prosper...prosper? Oh. “A prop-osition?” He asked, careful to pronounce the word correctly.

The boy nodded once, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Prop-osition” he repeated, saying it properly this time. “Will you listen to it? Please?”

Oh, now there was a please? The kid hadn’t even said hello. Janus exhaled, running a hand through his hair, again fingering the raised scar on his cheek, eyes darting about without much hope for any sign of a frantic adult looking for their wayward offspring as he sat back, tapping his pen on the table. “I’m busy.”

The boy’s eyes flashed. “No you’re not.”

Janus scoffed, gesturing to his papers. “I assure you that I a--”

“Are doing what you do every Friday. You’re not busy. You just sit here. All day. Reading. Writing.”

Observant. Janus frowned, again glancing around for a guardian figure. He didn’t think children thought much beyond eating, sleeping, and playing with their peers. “That is considered being busy by most people, I don’t have time to tal--”

The boy shifted to his knees, the golden sparks dancing around him as he carefully placed eight quarters on the table before pushing the pile over to him. “For your time.” He said, looking up to meet Jansus’s eyes once more.

Clever. Not quite the amount he usually took for a consultation, but he doubted a child could come up with that much cash. Still. It was the first time one of these golden sparked spawns of the devil decided to pay him instead of screaming bloody murder.

Janus exhaled, laying down his pen, sitting up as he clasped his fingers together, resting his chin on them. “I’m listening.” Though he doubted anything good would come from this proposition. He could already predict the direction this would go.

The boy relaxed, though he stayed half kneeling on his chair. “I need you,” his mouth twisted slightly, grey eyes glittering. “to pretend to be my Father.”

Father? Ha. Called it. “No.”

Golden sparks flared as the boy lifted his chin. “You didn’t even ask ‘Why.’”

He smirked, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach as he pushed the coins back. “I don’t need to.” It was obvious why the kid wanted to play pretend. After all, the sparks surrounding him were only visible to those like Janus. Single. Between the age of thirty and thirty-five. Childless. If the kid needed a fake dad...well this wasn’t his first rodeo with the concept. “You either need protection from some bullies, which--” He gestured to himself. “You think I look scary enough to intimidate them.” Though not scary enough to keep the kid from bugging him in the first place. “Or else you have lied to your friends about who your Dad is or what he does and so--”

“You’re wrong.”

Janus cut off, tilting his head. “Am I?” He was certain he wasn’t.

“You are.” The boy kept eye contact, grey blue eyes hard as stone.

It would be an intimidating gaze once he grew older, Janus was sure. “Enlighten me.”

The boy pushed the coins back across the table. “The Aquarium is having a Father/Son day today. I want to go.”

Not what he meant by enlighten, but he’d humor the kid. “So?”

The boy rolled his eyes, shifting to his knees so he could better rest his arms on the table. “I can’t exactly partisiis--partissee--par--”

“Participate?”

He nodded. “I can’t exactly participate if I go by myself, dummy.”

Dummy? Who just helped the kid pronounce ‘participate?’

Janus shoved the quarters back to the boy before picking up his pen, tapping it against the table. He could see the kid’s problem though. It made sense why the aquarium wouldn’t want to let hordes of little demon spawn run around tapping on the glass, licking the floors, and breaking things unsupervised. “I’m not spending fifty dollars to play your Dad, kid, just so you can look at some fish.”

A pet store would work just as well and wouldn’t cost a dime. If he was willing to go along with this.

Which he wasn’t.

He didn’t even like fish. Not since that stupid childhood fishing accident that had given him the lovely scar on his face in the first place.

No way would he willingly go along with some brat to a place filled to the brim with the creatures.

Despite how brilliant of a scheme it was. One Janus would have used himself though under different circumstances.

Though he supposed, if he felt like admitting it, which he didn’t, but he still---it….hurt in a way, that the kid, even having the sparks, just wanted to use him to get in to see some boring fish instead of trying out a real Trial with him to see if they had any sort of parental bond.

It was a stupid feeling.

He should be used to being used.

The boy adjusted his frames, barely blinking as he shoved the quarters back across the table, staring Janus down. “Adults get in for only ten dollars today. Kids get in free. If.” He emphasized the word. “Their Father brings them.” He shifted in his seat, pulling out a twenty and slid it across the table. “For your ticket.” He said simply, eyes flashing. “I’m only asking for your time. I don’t want to go on a Trial with you. I don’t need or want a Dad. I just need an adult with the time on his hands to pretend to be one and let me esplore the place for two measlely hours.”

Double ouch. At least some kids attempted to do an actual Trial Run with him to see if their sparks would Flare before being so blunt in telling him he wouldn’t be their Dad.

Janus frowned, already shaking his head. “Kid, I don’t--”

The boy pulled out another twenty, placing it on the table. “Two hours.” He said simply.

“You don’t even know me--” Sure, he knew the boy knew he was in the Trial stage of life since the stupid floating sparks thing, even if he couldn’t see his own, went both ways. But that didn’t mean that he should just shove--

The boy placed a third twenty on the table.

Janus exhaled, running a hand through his hair, again fingering his scar as he glared at the child. “You’re seriously bribing me? Where did you even get that much cash?” Hopefully it wasn’t stolen, but he’d applaud the boy for being so prolific in his thievery.

“Not important.” The boy stated, pulling out a fourth twenty without breaking eye contact.

Why was he being so persistent?! Any other child would have run away by now.

“Why me?” He demanded, leaning forward, sneering in a way he knew made his eyes look even more creepy. “Why not bribe some other--”

The boy hesitated, a fifth twenty already in his fingers as his steely gazed wavered. “If I tell you why, will you go with me to the Aquarium?”

That was hardly a fair exchange. The answer could be super simple and he’d be stuck with the kid for two hours. “I’m going to stick with my ‘I’m scary theory,’” Janus said instead, gesturing to his face. That was the usual reason kids gave in most circumstances.

The boy frowned, lifting his chin. “I can be scary enough on my own without your help.” He said shoving the sleeve of his shirt up, revealing an angry red corded scar that wrapped around his arm from wrist to shoulder. “We match, kinda. Your scar looks similar. Makes it easier to pretend that you’re my Dad. That we were in the same accident.” He pushed the pile of money towards him. “And if anyone suspects you aren’t my birth father, then the sparks will show them that we’re on a Trial and that our scars mean we’re meant to be.”

Meant to be.

It took a lot of effort to not touch the crescent mark on his cheek. To ignore the fluttering in his chest at those words.

They’re just pretty little lies.

Sure, there were ongoing theories that families all shared a similar trait that marked them. Whether that was having a mole on the same part of their stomach, sharing a taste in mustard, having an allergy to hay, hair having the same cowlick, or having similar looking scars--Janus kept his hands firmly on the table as he pulled his eyes back up to meet the kids.

It was hearsay though. Nothing had ever been proven. Not when the sparks flaring between parent and child was a far more accurate indicator that they were meant to be a family.

No, he highly doubted anyone would Flare with him during this five year tortrue period. Not even this kid despite the sparks dancing between them.

Janus took a steadying breath. It was fine. He didn’t need a family. Not even a pretend one for two hours. He was better off alone now that Virgil had harred off to who knew where. “How long do I have to wait before you run out of twenties and give up?” He said, keeping his voice cool. “Because I’m not taking your bribe, kid, regardless of the amount. You’d be better off hiring a nanny or something.”

Though he was curious just how much the boy thought it would take to convince him to go along with this farce.

The kid made a face. “I don’t want to be coddled the entire time.” He snapped, the fifth twenty vanishing as he shoved his sleeve down. “All anyone ever does is treat me like I’m breakable since--” he gestured to his arm, the scars once more hidden. “And I’m sick of it. You look like you’d happily let me fall off a bridge if I wasn’t careful and I just...I just--” He shook his head. “I need to not be cared about for a bit.”

Let him fall off a bridge? Ouch. Janus focused on relaxing his clenched hands, one finger at a time. “So you have a death wish? I’m not gonna be complacent to--”

The boy growled, slamming his hands on the table, steel grey eyes hardening even as they shimmered with unshed tears. “No. I just want to look at the fish.” He hissed. “I want to esplore. Learn. SEE. Without having a grown-up hovering over me like I’m freaking china. All you would have to do is stay near enough to keep any other metaling adults away. That’s all I want. For two hours. To be treated like a normal kid.” His hand clenched as he took a breath, bottom lip trembling. “I thought you of all people would understand that.” He whispered, eyes flickering to the scar and back.

It took a lot of effort to not touch his face. To maintain eye contact.

Sure.

He understood.

Janus had wasted years chasing that particular dream throughout high school and well into his first couple of years at college.

It had all been for nothing.

People judged the book by the cover. Few ever took the time to look deeper.

And it sucked that Janus was being forced to reckon with the fact that if he didn’t go with this kid and pretend to be his Dad, he’d be like every other adult unwilling to give the boy a chance to be ‘normal.’

…Great. Just. Great.

He’d just been guilted into spending two hours looking at the fish.

Janus broke eye contact, cursing under his breath as he shoved his papers into his book bag and stood, grabbing his jacket and hat off the chair.

Maybe he should follow Virgil’s lead and disappear into the wilderness for the next four and a half years if the kids were going to start pulling this type of act on him.

“You got a name, kid?” He asked, fishing out a single twenty from the stack before shoving the pile back at the boy. Enough for the ticket. That’s it.

The boy caught his breath, eyes going wide. “You mean--”

How could eyes hard as steel one second go so soft like freshly fallen ash the next?

You know what. He didn’t want to know. If the kid knew how to do puppy dog eyes, then he knew how. That was that, but after today Janus would not be falling for them again.

“Name.” He repeated, impatiently gesturing for the boy to follow him as he tugged his hat down over his eyes. “Else I’ll make one up and I guarantee you will not like it.”

The boy was by his side in a flash, golden sparks swirling. “Logan.” He said, adjusting his glasses with a small smile. “My name is Logan.”

#Be My Dad #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Janus #Logan #Deceit #Logic #Soulmate!AU #Familial Soulmates #Dad!Janus #Child!Logan #A Vague AU prompts

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tooobsessedwithfandoms · 4 years

Text

Heartbroken Chapter Three (Spencer Reid/Emily Prentiss x Reader)

Summary: Spencer is in love with you but he’s too late.

A/N: Hey guys this is part 3! I said I would explore Emily and Y/Ns relationship more so that's what this is about. I would really appreciate it if you guys gave me feedback because it helps me improve! This is also a lot longer than the others, and if anyone wants to be added to my tag list please let me know! This is also very loosely edited.

Words: 1.5k

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Master List

Warnings: Swearing, smut implied to have happened, CM stuff involving children, foster system and angst. If I have forgotten any please let me know!

Y/N couldn’t believe it, how did she not know? Once Penelope had finally caved in and told Y/N why Spencer had been avoiding her, it all made sense. She recalled back to the times she would be alone with the boy wonder, whether that be in the BAU or when they would frequently get coffee with each other and he would graze his large hands against her own. Or when he would gaze at her a little too long when they were on the jet after a hard case, Y/N thought nothing of it. He was her best friend, and despite him being a germaphobe, physical contact was common between the two. There was trust, and going past Spencer's physical bubble happened all the time. Not to mention that Y/N was a naturally physical person, she had even hugged Hotch on one too many occasions and like all the other profilers at the BAU, he would accept them with open arms. If anyone had a problem or simply just needed comfort, Y/N was the person to go to. So when Spencer would want to cuddle on the couch when on the jet, or anywhere else for that matter, Y/N would gladly accept and push away any ulterior motives to the back of her head. But now it all made sense. Did Spencer actually care about being her friend? Yes, yes of course he did. He just accidentally fell in love with Y/N along the way.

“Princess, you okay?” Emily’s groggy (yet somehow attractive) voice bringing Y/N back from her thoughts. Her hand combing through Y/Ns hair as they were both entangled within one another, just having made love to each other for the first time in a while. The last case had been long, and had taken a toll on them both. It had involved children, which were always the worst cases to cover. But now 8 children had to go into the system or go live with other members of their family due to the unsub taking their parents' lives. Y/N had forgotten all about the situation with Spencer until the case was over, prioritising her job and saving lives over anything else. But now as she was back in her small apartment, in her loving girlfriends arms, it all came flooding back to her.

She looked up at the beautiful face above her, eyes full of love and lust locking like it was the first time they met. They were both very much in love with one another, and both fell just as fast and hard as the other half. Something about knowing that the other was constantly in danger had created an aura of protection around the couple, the threat had been a great catalyst in the progression of the relationship. They were both aware that one or the other could be hurt at any time during any of the cases and that made both girls love and respect for each other increase at a rapid rate. And so when they were together in that peaceful bliss of being alone, they fell even harder.

But Y/N had to bring it up.

“Spencer-”

“What about him?” Emily's voice demanded, her demeanour switched completely. She kneeled up on the bed, sporting only the bare minimum due to the activity the two had just partaken in. Her eyes had flicked from love to anger and...was that jealousy? Her hair stuck up even more due to the rate at which she had changed position, she had gone from relaxed to defensive within a second and that had frightened Y/N. So much so she cowered away, her back pushed upon the head board even further. A pissed off Emily Prentiss was not to be messed with, and anyone who encountered her in such a way had learned not to annoy her off ever again. Y/N had seen her angry before, but Emily wasn’t angry. No, she was seething. How had muttering the name of someone the team knew and loved (including Emily) now caused such a reaction?

“N-nothing Em, its nothing” Y/N reassured, both knew it was a blatant lie but Y/N just wanted to diffuse the tension and if dropping the subject of the one thing she needed to speak to her girlfriend about would do so, then she would. Y/N didn’t care about herself and her problems at the moment. However, she did care about the angelic yet intimidating form in front of her and why speaking such a name, a name of a close friend and work colleague at that, would make her love react in such a way. “Are” Y/N cleared her throat “Are you okay?”

“It seems like we both ask that question a lot…” Emily sighed, she was fed up and tired. Tired of thinking that her girlfriend would run away into the sunset with Spencer. She knew it wasn’t Y/Ns fault, and it wasn’t fair for her to take it out on Y/N either. But she couldn’t help it. Just knowing that there was a chance Y/N would decide Spencer was a much better fit for her and thus leaving Emily all alone made her heartbreak. She would totally understand if Y/N decided to leave her and she respected that. She would leave her alone, but that doesn't mean it wouldn't hurt. Because it would. “Look, I understand if you want to leave me” Emily quietly stated, it hurt her to say such a thing but she respected Y/Ns choices.

“Wait, Em what are you tal-”

Emily made a noise, Y/N assumed it was to ‘shh’ her but it sounded more like a cry or wail. It didn’t take a genius to know that Emily's heart was cracking in two. “You wanna break up with me right? And I get it! I really do, because Spencers in love with you and we all know that and Penelope blabbed and told us all that you now know too, and i tried to take your mind off it with that mind blowing se-”

“Emily please!”

“No, please. Please just listen to me Y/N. Be-” A tear ran down her face “Because i really...really love you okay? Like, so much.” She stood up “and I want you to be happy!” She put on her clothes, all while Y/N sat on the messy bed in tears. She wanted to tell Emily that she wasn’t going to leave her and that she reciprocated the overwhelming love Emily felt for her but she knew that if she interrupted her broken girlfriend now, Emily would just leave. And that was the last thing she wanted right now “So, if you want to leave me for Reid, then okay. That's okay, just please do it now before I fall even harder.” She picked up her go-bag and walked towards the door. “I will come tomorrow for the rest of my stuff okay?”

The smile that she gave Y/N was full of sadness and regret. Did she regret their relationship? This made Y/N finally take action and stand up from the sheets that she was settled in previously and run towards the woman she was about to lose.

“Em, don’t go!” Y/N choked through a sob. Her shaking hands grabbing Emily’s own hand that wasn't grasping onto the bag she was about to leave with.

Emily shook her head, her hair slightly falling back down from its mane like state into its usual place. “No, it's fine Y/N. I’m going home.”

Y/N let go of Emily's hand and reached up to grasp Emily’s face instead, having to slightly lean on her toes to reach eye level. “No! Let me speak please!” Y/N said through a sigh of frustration. “I don’t like Spencer Em...Why would I? Don’t get me wrong he's smart and an amazing person. Not to mention a brilliant friend-”

“Sounds like you stated your reasons right there” Emily whispered in embarrassment, eyes trying to find interest in the floor.

“Hey, look at me please. He’s not you Em, he's not you and he will never be you. If one day he changes his name to ‘Emily Prentiss’, starts wearing heels and a black wig-” Emily let out a slight laugh through the tears. “Then maybe...maybe i would consider him as an option.” Y/N let out a big grin causing Emily to do the same. “But in all seriousness Em, I love you and only you. Nothing will ever change that okay?”

Emily just stared. Why was she so stupid? She just nearly broke up with her girlfriend because of a false instinct. But she was also grateful, because it told her that no matter what, no matter the obstacle or barrier that gets in the way of their relationship. They would always come out on top. This reassured her that the love she gave was being given back and it made her actually appreciate this little argument. But even though they had sorted this out between themselves thus making their relationship even stronger. They still had to speak to someone, they knew Y/N didn’t like Spencer. But Spencer didn’t.

And they had to sort that out.

#spencer reid #emily prentiss #spencer reid x reader #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x y/n #emily prentiss x y/n #spencer reid x y/n

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hongism · 4 years

Text

mists of celeste ➻ fourteen

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 3.6k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒

mists of celeste act two ➻ part four

You wake up with a start, stirred awake by some nightmare that leaves your mind the moment you open your eyes. For a second, you don’t remember where you are or what’s going on, but the sudden soreness that spreads across your neck reminds you of what happened the previous day. The skin is sensitive under your fingers; there’s bruising surely but you don’t really want to look at the evidence of your near death. Your eyes shift to the other side of the bed, expecting to find San there since you vaguely remember falling asleep with his hand in yours.

You drop said hand to your lap, looking at the skin of your palm as though it’s going to speak back at you and explain what happened last night. You don’t remember a thing after he said that he was going to make sure that you wouldn't go anywhere again. Everything is blank and empty after that, no traces of any other memories from that point on. Perhaps it’s for the better but you can’t help but feel that you are missing something important that happened during the night.

You try not to dwell on it though; instead, you pull yourself up from the bed and cast a glance over at the bathroom door. It’s wide open, which you find odd because you at least recall shutting it after your shower last night.

“San must have left already,” you mutter to yourself as you bend down to grab your shoes. You slip them on with haste, hand rushing to touch your neck when a surge of pain jolts through it. It doesn’t bother you much after that, maybe it had some sort of crick in it from an awkward position in the night or maybe that Taskmaster Cara fucked you up worse than you initially thought.

You let your hand fall back to your side as you step out into the hall. For some reason you expect San to be waiting just outside the door, leaning up against the wall and ready to chastise you for sleeping so late, but the hall is empty. You descend the stairs in the hopes of finding him there, still unsure as to why you’re craving his presence so badly all of a sudden.

However, again, San is nowhere in sight in the lobby of the hotel. Rather it’s only Wooyoung, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong who stand downstairs. They’re close to the door, Seonghwa and Hongjoong locked in what seems to be a heated discussion and Wooyoung stands a bit off to the side and watches on with wide eyes. As soon as you reach the bottom step, Wooyoung catches sight of you. He turns towards you, grinning from ear to ear.

“Good morning,” he greets as you walk closer to him, his tone soft and melodious compared to Hongjoong’s slightly grating tone that carries over to your ear. Seonghwa twists at the waist when he hears Wooyoung speaking, and his eyes trail over your shorter form in confusion for a brief moment.

“Oh, Y/N. Did you sleep alright?”

Rather than looking back at Seonghwa, you stare past him to look Hongjoong in the eye.

“It was choice that landed you in your current predicament, but I know that it was fate that put you in my path. You can walk away from fate and choose uncertainty. Or you can walk back upstairs and let fate decide the rest.”

You want to know what he’s thinking, you wish you could see into his mind and understand what exactly is going on in there. Hongjoong’s expression remains flat and blank. You can’t read anything on it, and he doesn’t help you along at all, staying silent and unmoving as your stare trails over him. It’s impossible to know how he feels about seeing that you decided to stay.

“I slept just fine,” you answer at last. Your eyes drag back up to meet Seonghwa’s again, lingering this time. “My neck hurts a bit but not too much.”

“It looks a lot worse than it hurts, most likely,” Wooyoung mentions. Hot breath hits your neck as the man suddenly leans in and inspects the bruising up close. “It looks like you nearly lost the fight, to be honest. Pretty good impressions of fingers on your skin though. Almost impressive.” Wooyoung pulls back and sends a lopsided smile your way, one that you return with half the amount of enthusiasm.

“Oh, how kinky,” you huff. Wooyoung chokes on his saliva. Seonghwa’s brows shoot up and he blinks at the floor a few times before clearing his throat.

“A-ha, is San coming down soon?” He asks after he recovers himself a bit. You tilt your head to the side at the question.

“He’s not in the room or upstairs at all. At least he wasn’t when I woke up not too long ago. I just assumed that meant he had already come down.”

“No…” Seonghwa trails off and turns back towards Hongjoong. The two stand completely still, exchanging glances without saying anything for a few moments. There is a sudden and obvious spike of tension between the four of you, one that you can’t pinpoint but Hongjoong clarifies it.

“Fucking shit,” he cusses, nearly elbowing Seonghwa and Wooyoung out of the way as he pushes towards the door. The lieutenant rushes to follow and calls out his name. You blink at the spot where the two men just stood then glance up to Wooyoung. He shrugs, obviously just as confused as you are, then moves to follow Seonghwa outside as well.

“Take Wooyoung and Y/N back to the ship immediately,” Hongjoong orders as you all step outside. The heat is unbearable despite it still being early morning, and the sun nearly blinds you. You have to shield your eyes with the back of your hand, squinting at Hongjoong as he continues speaking. “Get Mingi and bring him back with you. Meet me near the warehouse district. Move as quickly as possible. Chances are San has ahead start on us, and it could be a few hours for all we know so we operate as though we’re behind. I’ll check the radar once I start heading that way.”

“O-Okay, but what’s going on?” You stammer out. You regret asking less than a second later because Hongjoong’s rage-filled stare lands on your form next. You freeze under it, swallowing harshly and trying to stare back with equal heat.

“It’s pretty fucking obvious,” he spits in response. “San went to the warehouse where Taskmaster Cara said she would be. He decided to get his revenge.”

Your mind goes completely and utterly blank. You don’t have words, and certainly have no clue how you’re supposed to explain that you were the one who talked about revenge with San last night. Your resolve returns quickly though.

“I’m staying,” you demand. Heat reaches your gaze, and your confidence swells as you stare Hongjoong in the eye. He doesn’t flinch, however, and his glare continues to harden on you. “I have to stay.”

“No.”

“Captain–”

“I said no.”

“With all due respect Captain,” you start again, teeth pressed together so hard that your jaw aches from the pressure. “I have to stay.”

“I can’t trust you to follow orders given your behavior with Yeosang on the last mission. This is my job, San is my crewmate, San is my responsibility. No one else’s. Seonghwa and Mingi are meant to be merely reinforcements if things head south. So, Lieutenant, you can hurry the fuck up and get going.”

Hongjoong doesn’t wait to hear Seonghwa’s affirmation or approval. He spins on his heel and breaks into a sprint without missing a beat. It only takes a second for his form to disappear in the midst of the morning crowd in the city. Seonghwa watches the man go with wide eyes and mouth agape. He stares at the place where he just was long after Hongjoong is gone, only recovering when Wooyoung nudges him in the side. He grabs for Wooyoung’s shoulder and pulls him forward.

“Let’s go. We need to hurry.” Seonghwa lifts a hand and motions for you to follow as well, but you stay rooted to the spot. You accentuate your refusal by crossing your arms over your chest, eyes glaring into Seonghwa’s head even though he isn’t looking at you at the moment. “Y/N, we need to go.”

Seonghwa shifts to look back at you.

“I won’t go. I’m not going anywhere.”

“What the fuck is going through your head? We need to hurry. Hongjoong is already on his way to San, but we have to go now.”

“I have a debt to repay. San wouldn’t have gone after the crew or the taskmaster if not for me.”

“What are you tal–”

“If I hadn’t been dragged off by Cara, he wouldn’t have even thought about them or his past. It’s my fault San went off for revenge and my fault we’re in this mess in the first place,” you explain, teeth gritted together so hard that it hurts your jaw. “I’m not going to let anything happen to San because of something that is on me and me alone. I won’t let that happen to anyone ever again.”

Seonghwa’s gaze lingers on you, and he doesn’t move or speak for a little while. It’s wasting precious time, time that you could be using to catch up with San, but you don’t press the lieutenant any further.

“The warehouse is a ways away but you can easily get there in less than thirty minutes if you hurry,” he relents at last. He drops his right hand to his left wrist and pops the wristband there off. He passes the device over to you, but you hesitate, staring at him in confusion.

“No! No, no, Lieutenant,” Wooyoung cuts in. He stretches between you, stopping Seonghwa’s arm as it draws closer to you, and you both turn to blink at him in shock. “W-Wait, you can have mine. Y/N, take mine instead.” Wooyoung pulls back to yank his own wristband off, then reaches up to pull his earpiece out as well.

“Why can’t I just use my own wristband? It was only my earpiece that broke.”

“No, you’ll need a replacement from the ship. Each earpiece is paired to a wristband, so we can’t just replace them on the fly like this.”

“Okay, understood.” You pop your band off and hold it out to Seonghwa, and he snatches it before Wooyoung has the chance to.

“You have to take mine. You’ll be able to track Hongjoong’s location on it, as well as San’s. But it’s a two-way street. Both will be able to see your movements as well. If you take my earpiece and wristband, then it will look like I’m the one showing up on the tracker and not you. But if you took Wooyoung’s, Hongjoong would panic even more because he would see Wooyoung traveling alone. It’s best if you take mine for now, and once I’m back with Mingi I won’t need it anyway.” Seonghwa fastens his band around your wrist and tightens it as needed to fit your arm. “I’ll show you how to pull up locations too.”

You let Seonghwa go to work on the tiny screen, repeating his actions in your head so you can remember what to do later. Sure enough, a small map pops up eventually and you can see a dot with small initials beside it – PSH. It must be Seonghwa, because there is another set of initials beside his that read ‘JWY’. Seonghwa swipes his finger across the screen, the map zooms out, and two more dots appear. One is a simple ‘CS’ and the other reads ‘KHJ’, and it’s easy to assume which one belongs to each man. Seonghwa hesitates as he looks at the dots.

“San is moving very slowly. We might have a bit more time than I thought initially. Still, it’s going to take me at least four hours if not more to be back with Mingi.”

“The transport train,” you mutter, sudden realization washing over you. The lieutenant nods a couple times in confirmation.

“Hurry. Try to catch up to San before he gets to the warehouse.” Seonghwa doesn’t pull back quite yet though. Instead, he continues to fiddle with the band without cease, only stopping to explain once he’s completely done. “I switched the channel over to a different one. I’ll match Wooyoung’s to it as well. If anything happens, you need to tell me. I’ll be listening through Wooyoung.”

Seonghwa shifts to grab Wooyoung’s wristband as well, popping it back onto his wrist. You glance up at Wooyoung’s face and catch his stare on you. The two of you exchange a glance. It’s one full of nerves and anxiety; Wooyoung keeps gnawing at his lower lip. The skin is nearly raw under his teeth but he still doesn’t stop. If you knew how to reassure him, you might try; however, you’re in an equal state of confusion and panic so you can’t do anything. The most you can manage is a thin-lipped smile that Wooyoung doesn’t acknowledge. The pit in your gut grows larger.

“It’s all set,” Seonghwa says as he stands up straight. His hand goes to his ear to pluck the small earpiece out, and he hands that over to you as well after wiping it on his sleeve. You take it and put it into your own ear. An awkward silence envelops the three of you after that.

“Well…” You start, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “I guess I should hurry.” You step past Seonghwa, ready to start sprinting after Hongjoong, but Seonghwa catches you by the wrist first. You glance back at the tall man. A few strands of black hair have fallen over his eyes.

“Keep Hongjoong safe,” he asks, tone so quiet you can barely hear it over the din of the streets. The grip on your hand tightens. “Please.”

There is genuine concern in Seonghwa’s eyes as he says the words. It catches you off-guard, especially since you think that Hongjoong should be one to look after himself as the captain, but Seonghwa seems so desperate to hear that you’ll at least try to keep him safe in his stead.

“I’ll do my best,” you mutter in response. Seonghwa’s hand shifts up to your shoulder. He squeezes your arm tight.

“Be careful.”

You shift to glance at Wooyoung one more time. His face still bears the same worried expression as it did before, but he doesn’t speak like Seonghwa does.

“I’ll be fine. You should get going.”

Seonghwa nods a few times in response. His hand shifts from your shoulder to Wooyuong’s back. Without another word, Seonghwa and Wooyoung walk into the crowd. You’re left alone for the first time in weeks. Not “left alone on the ship in your room” because that doesn’t count but really alone.

Despite choosing to stay last night, you really could up and disappear this time. That thought does cross your mind, but you are also hyperaware of the fact that San could be striding to his death in attempts to get whatever revenge he desires. And that’s not something you can sit back and let happen, because as much as you hate to admit it, Hongjoong had a point the previous night.

“You’re choosing the easy way out then. Running away from your problems rather than facing them. There is no way of knowing whether the future will be a repeat of the past. You can only be sure of the present and whatever happens is either a choice of your own or of fate.”

As much as you want to run away and escape, it truly is the easy way out. And for once you don’t think you want to take the easy way out. You wait until Seonghwa and Wooyoung disappear from sight completely before taking off after Hongjoong. It’s hard to figure out which path he took since the city bears so many winding roads. The only way for you to know which way he went is through the small map on your wristband, and even with that, it’s hard to see because of the minuscule size.

Hongjoong’s dot on the map moves with haste while San’s still moves rather slowly. You can’t quell the panic in your gut. There are too many possibilities running through your head at the moment. What if he’s already been caught? Maybe he found them and turned himself in? Why would he do that? Is he really going for revenge? Could it be a suicide mission instead? But why? There are far too many questions and not enough answers. With each possibility you think of, more anxiety bubbles in your gut until you aren’t even able to properly breathe because of it.

You duck into an alleyway first chance you get. It gives you a chance to have some space to breathe, get away from the crowds, and just take a moment to collect yourself some before continuing after Hongjoong and San. You kneel against the dirt and place your hands on your knees. Your eyes fall shut as well, and you let yourself slip ever so slightly into a state of calm.

What would Daichi say? Examine everything. Recall all the information and relay it forward. Talk yourself through what is going on then decide what the best course of action may be. Easy enough. I can do that. What did San say about getting revenge?

“I’m scared of hating myself more than before if I do get my revenge. There won’t be any going back from it if I kill them all. I’m also afraid of regretting it if I don’t do it and take the chance. I j-just don’t know what I want, and that’s almost more terrifying.”

He’s hesitant still. Maybe that’s why he’s moving so slowly. He hasn’t committed. Made an impulse decision and went for it without thinking. Now he’s thinking about it and wondering if it’s still the best course of action. Probably knows that Hongjoong and I – well, Seonghwa – are chasing after him now.

“I’m – I’m not sure why but I feel the need to protect you. I feel guilty that you got hurt by someone I used to know. I feel guilty for not being there sooner. Not noticing you were gone. Just… not being there. I want to – I want to protect you and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Surely he can’t be walking to his death if he said that… Would he suffer the guilt to do so though?

You lift your chin, eyes cracking open once more. With a quick glance at your wristband, you gauge where both Hongjoong and San are. Hongjoong has come to a sudden stop on the map, the dot flashing before your eyes, and you tilt your head to the side to watch it.

Then a gunshot resounds somewhere ahead of you. You whip your chin up to look in the direction of the shot, but there’s no telling whether it came from where San is or where Hongjoong is. You don’t bother dusting off your knees before breaking into a sprint. People carry on in the streets as though the sound of a gun is totally normal and regular. You weave through the crowds of people with haste, but it’s hard to move fast and avoid knocking into them so you smack a few shoulders along the way. Your earpiece crackles to life not long after the gunshot resounds.

“What’s going on? Who shot a gun? Are you okay? Where are San and Hongjoong?” Wooyoung shouts over the intercom. You wince from the volume of his voice in your ear.

“I’m fine,” you grumble back. “The gunshot didn’t come from me.”

“Do you see anything at least? Fighting? Hongjoong maybe? San?”

“No, I’m still trying to catch up. Hongjoong isn’t too far ahead, but he’s stopped moving.”

“Be careful,” Wooyoung whispers, his voice falling quiet. “Seonghwa says the same.”

“Thank you,” you say back. “You do the same.”

“We will.”

The channel goes quiet again after that. You try your best to maintain the pace you’re going at, because thanks to Hongjoong’s sudden halt, you’re catching up faster than you thought you would. According to the map, San has moved a bit in the opposite direction, nearly backtracked his steps some before continuing forward. Part of you wonders if he’s stopping to check his wristband as well, or if it was the gunshot that made him pause for a bit.

Hongjoong’s dot on the map grows ever closer. You shove through a group of people – earning yourself quite a few curses and threats – and land yourself in a finally empty roadway. You glance across the road, finding the reason why it’s so empty with ease and the reason why Hongjoong quit moving.

He stands in the middle of the street with two pistols out and at the ready, a body at his feet that must have fallen victim to the random gunshot that echoed through the streets. Hongjoong isn’t alone though; he’s surrounded by eight thugs who seem to have the same idea. All have their own weapons pointed at Hongjoong’s head.

✧✧✧ a/n: okay here we are a little late but here nonetheless!!! i’m so sorry for the delay i was not expecting my dad to bring the kitten in so early and honestly wasn’t even expecting to get a kitten at all so that’s my bad but aosdifiojd i cut this chapter off a tad early because i wanna save a majority of the ~action~ for the next chapter slkjdfkljlk

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @2504-life @lil7bluedragon @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis @anothershorthuman @xxbluestrifexx @saturatedsan @haotheheckk @noonawriter

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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merakiaes · 4 years

Text

Bésame Mucho - Oscar “Spooky” Diaz

Pairing: Oscar “Spooky” Diaz x reader

Requested: By @harringtoncastle

Prompts: None.

Warnings/notes: Warning for slight OOC-Spooky. Very cute and mushy. This is based around the song “Bésame Mucho” by Andrea Bocelli. You can listen to it here. It’s a really beautiful song so I recommend you listen to it while reading this! Translation of the text is at the end but keep in mind that I’m not a native Spanish speaker so there might be mistakes, and this is my first time writing a song fic so it might be bad xD Not proofread!

Wordcount: 1747

Summary: You’re laying around with Oscar in bed, listening to music together, when your song comes on.

Quiet, relaxing moments were a rare occurring thing for Spooky with the pressure he was living under because of Los Santo and Cuchillos constantly being on his ass, but whenever he did manage to squeeze in one of these moments into his busy schedule, it was always spent with you.

You were tucked into his side where you laid in your shared bed, your head resting on his shoulder and your hand on his chest while his arms were wrapped around you.

In your other hand you held your phone, the wires of your headphones going from the bottom of the mobile device and splitting into two between yours and Oscar’s heads, the two of you having one earbud each plugged into your ears.

Low music was playing from the earbuds, your phone set to shuffle on a random Spotify playlist of Oscar’s choice.

It wasn’t often that moments like this occurred so you treasured them with everything that you had in you.

Your fingers were absentmindedly drawing circles on your boyfriend’s chest, the grey fabric of his t-shirt soft under your touch. His chest was in turn rising and falling at a slow pace, his breath equally as slow and deep.

He was following your example and soothingly caressing your bare upper arm with his thumb, the feeling sending shivers down your spine and making you feel more content than ever.

The song you were currently listening to came to a stop and the next song started, and the sound of guitar strings being plucked in a familiar melodic tune instantly brought a wide smile to your lips.

Bésame Bésame mucho Como si fuera ésta noche La última vez

The words were all too familiar to you at this point in your life and they never failed to make you feel nostalgic and over the moon; like you were on cloud nine.

The memory of that night six years ago automatically resurfaced in your head. Your body grew warm as the feelings you had been feeling back then returned like it had only been yesterday that you had been standing there underneath the dim, blue lights.

And judging by the way Oscar’s thumb had now stopped moving over the skin of your arm, he seemed to have recognized it as well.

As the song continued playing in your ear, you opened your eyes and shifted your head on his chest so that you were able to look at him, smiling.

“It’s our song.” You noted, despite the fact that he already knew. “Do you remember? This was the song that was playing the night we first met.”

The memory in your head played out as clear as a movie, like you were watching it on a flatscreen in high quality right then and there.

The white and red roses were spread out throughout the room, people slow dancing on the dancefloor while the band played on stage.

The room was dark, only dimly lit up by the white and light blue lights in the ceiling as the bride and her groom danced in the middle of the crowd, their loved ones moving in an identical way with their significant others around them.

But you were sitting alone, your third flute of champagne hanging from between your fingers as you scanned the room.

You remembered it so vividly, the feeling of boredom and longing to go home that you had felt in that moment feeling as fresh in your body as ever as you looked back.

And that’s when it had happened.

That’s when you had averted your gaze from the dancing wedding guests and looked to the other side of the room, meeting the pair of deep, brown eyes that you today loved more than life itself for the first time ever.

Beside you, Oscar hummed, his chest vibrating under your hand, and you watched as he droopily opened his eyes.

“I remember, mamas.” He mumbled, his brown eyes meeting yours in real life like they had just done in your memory.

His voice was groggy from not having been used for so long, the two of you having laid in silence for over an hour. Yet neither of you had fallen asleep, enjoying each other’s company too much.

You smiled at him, scanning his face. “I was forced there against my will because Jessica hadn’t found a date, and you were there with Sad Eyes and his ruca. You were wearing a black button-up, grey jeans,-”

“And you were wearing a yellow sundress.” Oscar recalled, his full lips pulling into a smile of his own.

You snorted at that, remembering how mad you had been about being forced to wear that ugly dress.

“Don’t remind me. It was way too small for me and I still can’t believe Jessica forced me to wear it. It did nothing for my figure.” You shook your head, still disappointed after all those years.

But Oscar’s smile only widened and he pushed himself up on his elbow, now leaning over you and moving his hand to the side of your face.

“You looked beautiful.” He corrected, gingerly tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Just like you do now.”

A chuckle left your lips. “Well, I must have.” You teased, squinting your eyes playfully and raising your hand to touch the Santos cross inked into the skin on his neck. “Because I don’t think the infamous Spooky would have asked me to dance if I hadn’t.”

The memory changed in your mind, taking you back to when Oscar had walked up to you and asked for your hand in a dance.

You had only been eighteen at the time but he had already been jumped into the Santos a long time prior to that moment, and you were… well, let’s just say that you weren’t the fondest of human interaction, so neither of you had any experience when it came to dancing.

But still, you had taken his hand without as much as a single doubt in your mind, and you hadn’t regretted it once.

Bésame, Bésame mucho Como si fuera ésta noche La última vez

“I think back to that moment every day. Every time we kiss, I kiss you like it’s our last moment together.” Oscar’s face was concentrated, his fingers absentmindedly touching your face, his eyes following their movements as he listened to the lyrics and reminisced the past.

His words caused your eyebrows to crease together, your hands moving up to cradle his face. “You don’t have to think like that.” You mumbled, shaking your head. “I’m not going anywhere, papi.”

The fact that he would even think about you leaving him made your heart tug painfully in your chest. You could be threatened to be killed, be held under gun- or knifepoint, and you still wouldn’t even consider leaving his side.

But you understood his worries. All of the people he had loved throughout his life had ended up leaving him in one way or another.

He knew that you loved him, but he would always be scared that history would be repeated with you like it had been with everyone else.

Bésame, Bésame mucho Que tengo miedo a perderte Perderte después

“I know you’re not.” He agreed, continuing to look down at you with nothing but pure, raw admiration. “But I’m scared. I’m scared that I’ll fuck this up like I’ve done everything else in my life.”

He closed his eyes, leaning closer to your face and pressing his forehead against yours. “I know this shit between us is real, but it still feels like I’m dreaming.” The confession brought another tug at your heart. “Like you’re gonna disappear if I open my eyes; if I let you go.”

Quiero tenerte muy cerca Mirarme en tus ojos Verte junto a mi Piensa que tal vez mañana Yo ya estaré lejos, Muy lejos de ti

“I’m scared that I’ll get caught up in this shit too deep, that I’ll-” He let out a breath of air through his nose, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief moment. “That I’ll have to leave to keep you safe and never get to see you again. Never get to look into your eyes and see the reflection of the man you make me. A better man.”

“You’re a good man all on your own, baby.” You quickly objected, holding his cheeks with just a tad bit more force in your hands. “You don’t need me for that.”

“I do.” He kept fighting back, his eyes narrowing to the point where you could only see his dark eyelashes, his brown irises hidden behind them. “You don’t just make me better. You want me want to be better. Without you, I would have been dead a long time ago.”

Bésame, Bésame mucho Como si fuera ésta noche La última vez

“Then kiss me like this is our last moment together.” You said, your eyebrows furrowing together. “Kiss me as if tomorrow, we’ll be on opposite sides of the planet, surrounded by other people and with no way for you to tell me you love me. Kiss me. Kiss me as if it’s the last time.”

He stared into your eyes and just for the briefest of times, the world seemed to stop around you. The moment between a glance and a kiss where the only thing between you was the intense affection and the anticipation of each other’s lips on yours.

It was a moment so intense it hung in the air and pulled you closer, and then he did.

He kissed you like he was drowning and you were his air, like he was starved, like he hadn’t eaten or drank in two weeks and you were the only thing keeping him alive.

He put his hands on either side of your face, the room fell away around you and you had never gotten so lost in a kiss before.

The space between you exploded, your heart kept missing beats and your hands couldn’t bring him close enough to you.

One of his hands left your face to tug the headphones out of your ears just as the song came to an end, and you allowed him to grab them and your phone and put them somewhere to the side without ever breaking the kiss.

You were intoxicated by the feel of his arms around you and his lips moving against yours in perfect synchronization.

Slowly, he began to unwrap you; your mind, your heart, your soul. He hadn’t gotten to your clothes yet, but you knew he would, because he just kept kissing you more, truly as if it was for the last time.

Bésame.

TRANSLATIONS:

Bésame, Bésame mucho Como si fuera ésta noche La última vez // Kiss me Kiss me a lot As if it were tonight The last time

Bésame Bésame mucho Que tengo miedo a perderte Perderte después // Kiss me Kiss me a lot For I am afraid to lose you To lose you afterwards

Quiero tenerte muy cerca Mirarme en tus ojos Verte junto a mi Piensa que tal vez mañana Yo ya estaré lejos, Muy lejos de ti // I want to have you very close Look in your eyes See you next to me Think that maybe tomorrow I will be far away Far away from you

#oscar diaz imagine #oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz #oscar spooky diaz #spooky #spooky x reader #on my block #on my block imagine #on my block x reader #omb imagine #omb x reader #omb #mario martinez #mario martinez x reader #mario martinez imagine #ruby martinez #jamal turner #monse finnie #cesar diaz

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tayerroos · 3 years

Text

Patchwork Tales: Book 1

A “9" roleplay compendium. Read on AO3 Chapter: 13 [First] [Back] [You Are Here] [Next] Warnings for this chapter: Torture, Body Horror

#Patchwork Tales #Book 1 #Chapter 13 #tw; torture #tw; body horror #9 RP #Fanfiction #Shane Acker's 9

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vanchlo · 4 years

Text

The Partner / Chapter Three, “Rebecca Ann”

*Not my gifs and ugh it was SO hard to find good ones, sigh*

Word Count: 11.6k words / Story Masterlist / Read The Assistant / Read on Wattpad / Song will be at the end, so as not to give anything away ;)

“She is led by love, the world moves for love . . it kneels before it in awe."

- Edward Walker, The Village

“So, what happened in the story next?”

“Are you sure you can stay awake for another chapter, love?” I wheeze, fingers combing through the satiny loose curls that I push away from her eyes. The very pair that I’ve seen so many times in the mirror. “You’re getting tired, Bean. It’s been a long day for you with school and swim team practice.”

“I know, but I can stay awake. It’s getting good.”

“Pinky P?” I almost giggle, holding out my littlest finger that she hooks hers with. Without fail, I could still picture how tiny her fingers were the first time I saw them, and my how they’ve grown. I think it’d be safe to say somebody is going to have big hands, too.

“Yeah, it is, but . . . ,” my words escape me momentarily. Distracted, I stop, hearing the sound of a cry from upstairs, wishing that he would walk into the room. That he would help me with this part, and the ones that follow.

“But, what?”

I’d been called it every day for the last almost ten years, but it still was hard to get used to at times, especially now with the story I tell. I had a hard time sometimes believing how lucky I’d gotten, and she only reminds me as I watch her eyes lull at the feeling of my hand in her hair. Just like somebody I know.

“But it gets sad, love, because you know, sometimes things have to get worse before they get better.”

“Stop it, you sound like you’re making up rubbish rules, just like Daddy,” the beloved word falls from her rosebud lips, and we can’t contain our laughter. The imperfect perfections in her cheeks and the sing-song laughter that peels from her lips makes this all the more surreal for me, like I’m looking right at him. “Now, keep going, Mum. I want to hear more of your story.”

It was never really an awkward silence with Harry, save for the few times after we had a row. No, it hadn’t been anything but comfortable since well, before we had started dating. Maybe even not long after I’d become his assistant, if you’re not counting that painful in between time. Today wasn’t one of those times, but sometimes I may have made it awkward when I couldn’t stop staring at him, just like the way I currently watch as his eyelashes flutter against his skin.

“Skye and Asher?!” the voice says from the phone pressed to my ear.

“Yep. I still can’t believe it.”

“Well, I’ll be darned . . huh,” my dad concludes with a soft laugh. “I hope he knows how much trouble he’s in for.”

“Me too. Skye was pissed with me at first for not introducing them sooner. As if I should’ve known she’d fall in love the second she saw him.”

“That sounds like her,” he muses with nostalgia carried in his voice. A recent memory sits in my mind from the other day when Skye told me the very story that I’m retelling. The apparent love at first sight with Asher and their first date, a rushed love story at best compared to Harry and I’s. He griped about it, Harry, feeling bad for Asher not knowing what was going to hit him. He had his hands full, alright, both boys. “So, how are things with you and Harry then, Boops?”

“Good, really good,” the answer comes easily to me, yet in a hushed voice as I try not to speak too loudly. My next words pause when a furrow gathers between his two brows, easily remedied by the pad of my thumb.

“Your trip went well?”

“Yeah, it was loads of fun seeing his family. I met a few more of them, and they’re all so alike. The cheesy sense of humor, love of board games, and they’re kind as can be,” memories bubble up with my words of our trip to Harry’s hometown close to a week ago.

“Well, it was good to talk to you and catch up, love, but I have to get going to work. You too probably soon, huh?”

“Yeah, and you too, Dad. I miss you . . you’re sure you can’t come up soon for a day or something?” I ask, almost holding my breath, despite knowing it won’t help his answer to sound like the one I want.

“Not sure, Ree, I’ll have to see how it’s going with the next build, we’re getting busy.”

“Okay, I hope you can come up somehow . . Well, I’ll talk to you on Monday, Dad,” listening to his subsequent goodbye, I set down my phone, sighing. Shielding a hand over my forehead, I move my legs under the covers, feeling his warm pair.

It wasn’t often that I’d be awake before Harry, because somehow he was always up early, even on the weekends. Not today, though. I for once had been up before him. It was nice, getting to enjoy him like this, especially considering the way he drove me up the wall yesterday. Silent, asleep Harry was far preferable to me right now. He also couldn’t protest the lazy attempts I made at styling his hair differently when he was asleep, considering he slept like a log.

The colors had begun to change outside, and the shops were building their candy supplies in preparation for the scary holiday. Despite Fall settling around us, a golden tinge still clung to Harry’s skin. Underneath his golden necklace, at the point of his nose, and around his many tattoos. It still surprised me, the four numbers in my handwriting permanent above his heart. It had been filled with so many firsts, and hopefully a few lasts.

Glancing at the clock, I found that our alarm still wouldn’t be going off for a good while. Albeit he couldn’t be more handsome when asleep and knowing what I’m about to do, I fight my way into his arms. His groan is instant and so is the smile I try to hide from my lips.

“Mmm, Becks, ‘m sleepin,’” Harry whines against me, his body like jelly. His arms still find their way around me and so does his chin hooking over top of my head.

“I just wanna cuddle you before work.”

“Fine,” it’s a sighed answer in return, but I hear the defeat in his voice. The way sleep beckons for him, his soft snoring soon resuming. His chest is balmy under my cheek where I lay it, listening for the sound of his heart. Next to his laugh, it was my favorite sound.

It seemed to be a recurring theme throughout today, stealing glances at Harry when he wasn’t noticing, like now as he flips through his menu.

“Are ya gonna ogle me, Becks, or are you gonna figure out what t’ order, love?”

“I already decided.”

“Good, ‘cos so have I,” he announces, laying his menu down. It’s only seconds later that the server sees, and we’re ordering our breakfast. “Seems you and my gran have really hit it off.”

“Oh, you think so?”

“No, I know so. Saw it even. I haven’t seen her take t’ somebody like that befo,’ certainly not any other girlfriend of mine.”

“I really like her - Claire. She’s sweet and even though we’ve only met a few times, she’s so easy to talk to.”

“I know, I love that ‘bout her. You’d think she was my mum’s mum with how sweet tha two o’ them are. She’s been supportive ever since tha stuff started with my dad, always let me talk t’ her ‘bout it without judgement. It meant loads t’ me,” he divulges to me. I can’t help but nod along, and fold my hand into his in the middle of the table.

“I bet so. That sounds like my gran Ann, she was my dad’s mum, but she was always there for me.”

“I see where you get it from, love,” he smiles with a wink of his sunshine eye, lips curling from the rim of his mug of coffee. It still baffles me how he can drink it black, let alone ripping hot.

God, the things those eyes do to me, those lips too. Okay, Becky, chill. Now is not the time. But, then there’s the outfit he’s wearing today and how it’s so him, and effortlessly handsome. It looks like something my granddad would wear - tan slacks, and a cream long sleeved shirt with chocolate brown stripes. Curls in a mess atop his head and parted in the middle, but somehow, it works. It had become my favorite hairstyle of his recently, but that would quickly change with whatever new one he came up with next. For once, it wasn’t Chelsea boots today or the occasional Vans, but instead saddle brown laced up Oxfords. See, how were the casual outfits so handsome? Harry’s outfits always work, and I wish I knew how.

“Whatcha starin’ at, hmm? I keep findin’ you lookin’ at me this mornin,’ startin’ t’ wonder why.”

“What, can I not admire my handsome boyfriend every now and then?” my question comes with a lift of my brow. Now, it’s my turn to look all inquisitive over my cup of coffee.

“Now, I never said ya couldn’t do that, love,” Harry teases with a shit eating grin plastered to his face.

It stuck to his lips as he began to read the paper over his coffee until our breakfast arrived. Even then, it remained.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I titter, cutting my fork through the two layers of pancakes.

“Stop drenchin’ yer pancakes with syrup, yer not gonna taste ‘em. They’ll be all soggy,” he warns, feeding a strip of bacon past his bubblegum pink lips.

“Stop telling me what to do with my pancakes.”

“Watch it, li’l one, or else ‘m not gonna share me food with you,” Harry says, pointing his fork at me. It gleams with strips of maple syrup beading at the tines’ ends. My lips ready their rebuttal, but his eyebrows only inch higher as he cocks his head towards me, silently willing me to continue. “I know ya will, ‘s a given. You always ask t’ taste somethin’ off me plate, don’t even try t’ deny it, lovey.”

It’s difficult to say the least, hiding my smirk and its accompanying giggle. Shaking my head, I sigh as I stab my fork at my pancakes, feeling his foot knock into mine underneath the table. It looked nothing close to Rafael’s here, but somehow, it brought me back to that night in the Italian restaurant. Our first one. The way his foot nudged at mine under the table, and the way his eyes gleamed with a smile. Sometimes, if I thought hard enough, I could feel the fluttering inside of me from the butterflies he still gave me.

“What? Yer a li’l too quiet fer tha talkin’ t’ I jus’ gave you, bug. No witty comebacks? That’s a surprise and a relief all in one,” Harry jokes, dimples set into his cheeks. He had shaved them just a few days ago, but it looked like it had been longer.

My lips are absent of any words. Instead, I busy them with the pillowy pancakes drenched in maple syrup. Looking down at my plate, I cut into the potatoes crisp on the exterior with cheese and flecks of pepper. Setting down my fork, I slowly pat on the bottom of the ketchup bottle.

“Becks? Y’know I was only jokin,’ love.”

“I know, and we both know you’re going to share your lemon poppyseed muffin with me,” it’s my turn for the shit eating grin now. Lifting my gaze, I meet his.

“I told you!” he begins with a shake of his head, pressing his fist to his overactive mouth. “Told ya t’ order yer own, love.”

“Yeah, but you’ll share with me because you love me.”

“I dunno if ‘d go as far t’ say that,” he shrugs. My scoff makes the smile tickle further at his cheeks, and it all but disappears when I pinch his thigh from under the table. “Woman, I swear t’ bloody God-.”

“Swear what?” I pipe up, setting my chin in my hand as he chuckles away across from me. He suffices a response with a shake of his head, feeding a ripe strawberry past his lips. It doesn’t help that he locks eyes with me the second he does it, and lips slow as can be, at that. “You’re bad.”

Harry offers a measly shrug in response, and what speaks volumes is the way he tugs the striped bag closer to him, holding our beloved muffin. Ignoring it, I dip a bite of potatoes into my puddle of ketchup, enjoying the hum of the cafe around us. Harry and I had been coming here for a while now- well, before we had started dating. He liked their food and turned me onto them, starting with getting him breakfast and his special muffin when I was his assistant. I don’t think he took me out to breakfast here until I had come back to work at his firm, but it was a nice treat every once in a while, even if it meant having to wake up earlier.

“I talked to my dad this morning, and told him about Skye and Asher. He was surprised, to say the least. I wish he’d come up and visit one of these days, he’s always so busy.”

“‘m sure he will when he’s not so busy, love, like when his new build ‘s over,” Harry muses, loudly flipping the page of his paper. Watching as he flattens it out, the bite of potatoes on its way to my mouth pauses.

“How’d you know about his new build?”

“‘Cos I talk t’ him too. He rang me tha other day, and we spoke ‘bout um . . I dunno, footie and cooking,” he answers, nonchalantly. Nodding, I shake a little more salt onto my potatoes, trying to will Harry to meet my eyes.

“Maybe he’ll come up if you ask, or if it’s to hang out with you.”

“Oh, hush, you. He’ll come when he has tha time, love, y’know that. Stop bein’ a pout,” he says, folding his paper back up into a messy square. My head shakes when he holds it out to me, instead setting it to the side before he picks up his coffee.

A wheezy laugh drops from his lips as he shakes his head at me, “Fine, here, Ms. Pouty. I must love you a whole lot t’ share me muffin,” Harry sighs, reaching into the bag and soon splitting it in half, handing me a chunk.

“Thank you . . love you,” it comes with a wink that he dismisses with a roll of his eyes.

“I know,” he huffs, breaking off a morsel of the dense bread. His eyes twinkle with mischief when I nudge my foot against his leg underneath the table. “Ditto, bug, always love you back too.”

I tried to find the words but they wouldn’t come. They couldn’t. Huffing, a hand dives into my hair as I stare back at the screen. It’s a welcomed respite when my wrist sings with a notification. Pushing back my sleeve, it reads Team Meeting at 2pm. I tap my palm against the screen to silence it before standing from my desk.

“Don’t look so sad to see me,” a voice teases. Lifting my eyes, I find Simon gliding down the hall towards me. The lawyer life suited him well, and so did his new job at the firm. He certainly had a flare for the suits, sporting a maroon number today. He seemed to be liking it and Harry never had a bad thing to say about him.

“Hi, Si.”

“Something the matter, Big B?” he pries, bumping his shoulder against mine as we turn into the east conference room where a few bodies congregate.

“No, just stuck on writing this deposition, so this will be a good break.”

“You mean a boring break,” Simon jokes, passing me an empty mug.

“Hey, I can’t be caught saying that around here,” I say, sarcasm laced in my hushed voice.

“Oh, yeah. We can’t have the boss’ girlfriend be heard saying his speeches were boring,” his animated lilt tickles a happiness at my lips. A laugh passes between us as steam from the hot coffee wafts across my face.

“What’s this I hear ‘bout boring? Ya aren’t talkin’ ‘bout yer bosses, now are you?” somebody pipes up. Looking over my shoulder, I’m awarded with the sight of Harry grinning far too proudly at his own joke. He embellishes it with a quick wink to me and a hand pressed into the small of my back.

“Oh, me calling you boring? Never in a million years,” Si cracks. I savor the sound of their loud laughs whilst pouring creamer and sugar into mine. Setting it down on the table we stand at, I pick up another mug, filling this one to the top with the scalding coffee.

“Thank you, my love,” my boyfriend smiles when I hand him the hot coffee. “Better go find a seat, tha two o’ you are late, per usual,” he quips, waving a circle into my back before leaving.

“Yeah right, like we’re late,” Si scoffs, turning to walk away. The rest of the gang had joined us by now, and I find an empty seat next to Rose towards the back.

I had come up with my own little rule at these things. It started with never sitting up front by Harry where he and Myles spoke. Certainly, I never sat in the back straight across from him where his eyes would gravitate. They both were bad ideas, and I’d quickly found them out from a past mistake or two.

Today, Myles started us off. There was something about a required employee training. Of course, there was the annual Halloween party coming up later this month, a charity function in the works, and working a table at an upcoming uni job fair. Harry and I may or may not be going as a certain Spice Girls couple, wink wink.

Slowly, like always, it grew to be boring. That’s when the texts started, despite the number of times Harry groaned about me distracting him on previous occasions. I quickly found it near impossible to not give him the dirtiest of looks across the room. It didn’t help that we were on near opposite sides, and he was facing Myles, pretending to pay attention. Per usual.

what should we do 2night for dinner? was thinkin i could do u 2 start with

He did a terrible job of wicking the smirk from his lips when I looked at him next. Kneading at his bottom lip hardly hid it, and drinking my coffee didn’t save me either.

You’re bad, is all I text back, making it look as if I’m taking notes on my laptop. I just hope nobody else can see, but I try to make sure of that.

oh i could be loads of things if u let me love. like in between ur legs 2night or if ur good enough some time b4 we go home

He didn’t even need to add a winky face or a saucy emoji. This man and his way with words, I swear it’ll be the death of me. He will, one way or the other. Hiding my laugh with a cough, I bring my mug back to my lips, nearly choking when Harry’s gaze slinks over to mine.

“You okay?” Si whispers.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I answer, holding eye contact with Harry. Nobody else might notice it, but I see it. The way one of his dimples plays hide and seek with me on his cheek, accompanying his sly lips. A pair that I’m itching to have on me, here and now. Well, in fifteen minutes or so.

alright becks? choking already thinkin bout me big dick bein in ur mouth?

Stop, we’re in a meeting, Harry. Your meeting

doesn’t stop me love so don’t let it stop u now

God, you’re unbelievable, Harry

so are those lips of urs bug. cant wait 2 have those pretty things round me cock 2day. up 2 u if ya want me sooner or later

Trying to mask my long sigh, I press the cover of my laptop shut. It’s even harder to resist sneaking a look at Harry. He is so full of shit, faking a glance around the room just to make brief eye contact with me. Of course, while he licks his lips. My eyebrows lift only in the slightest and he manages a shrug at me whilst leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head like the cocky boss he is.

Rose’s spiel that was actually holding my attention is interrupted when my wrist vibrates ten minutes later. I’m already beginning to roll my eyes when I lift it, wondering what Harry has said now. But, it’s not him. It’s who I least expected out of anyone.

Hi, bunny. I’m in London for a few days . . . I want to see you. Could we get coffee or lunch? xo

The rest of Rose’s speech goes absolutely over my head. If you asked me what it was about, I couldn’t tell you, despite the fact that I heard it. But no, I didn’t. Not really. Nor did I hear Simon’s subsequent jokes or when Rose called on me to share progress on our case. I couldn’t remember what, just the way everybody looked at me, like the kid in class caught not paying attention. It didn’t help seeing the worry etched onto Harry’s face, then and now, as I sit in the car next to him.

Another one had come by now, and still, I had no idea what to say or do.

“Did ya hear what I said, ‘bout dinner?”

Lifting my gaze, I see Harry’s patient one waiting for me.

“No, sorry. What’d you say?”

Waiting for the light to turn, his hand had folded mine into his firmly. Delicate circles were left on my skin by his thumb. “You alright t’day, Becks?”

“Fine. Did you want to get takeaway for dinner, or just warm up leftovers?”

“F’get ‘bout dinner fer a second, Becks, and please tell me what’s been botherin’ you t’day. We agreed on no mo’ lies, bug, and I know yer not fine. I can tell,” his objection comes in a gentle murmur, accentuated by his thumb pressing against mine.

“I’m sorry,” it’s sighed, almost lost in the Arctic Monkeys song filling the car, until Harry turns it off. “My mum texted me today, during our team meeting.”

The ‘oh’ that comes from him is teeming with realization and a certain weight to it. All I can think of to do in response is to nod. I busy myself with sliding his new opal ring off his left forefinger.

“‘s okay, bug, I understand . . ‘m sorry, too. So, what’d her text say?”

The white glow from the touchscreen display in Harry’s Rover illuminates the reflective specks in the stone. They cover the rainbow, spanning from purple, white, pink, and a mint green. Harry had joked when he’d gotten it that I was probably going to steal it from him more often than not, knowing how I loved opals. He was right, and that was a few months ago. I had worn it until now on my thumb when he belatedly stole it back from me. It fit him better, anyways.

“That she’s in London, and she wants to get together,” my voice is childlike, shy and lacking volume. Harry begins to speak, until I stop him, with my voice and my subsequent words. “Then, when I didn’t respond that I’m invited to lunch with her and Robbie tomorrow afternoon at some restaurant Robbie likes.”

“Oh,” he hums, lips stilling when he looks over his shoulder before making a turn. “Did you text her back yet?”

“No. I don’t want to go, or talk to her. I dunno why she does this, just pop up out of the blue as if she hasn’t spoken to me in almost two years . . since my accident.”

“You don’t hafta go, Becks. There’s nothin’ makin’ you go. Yer an adult and you make yer own decisions, bug. You don’t owe her anythin.’”

“I know, but that doesn’t stop her from the guilt trips. I don’t even remember unblocking her number . . she must have gotten a new one. But, I’m afraid, Harry,” I confess, threading the ring back onto his finger riddled with fine dark hairs. He allows me, having gotten used to it by now, and the way that I trace the veins poking out of his skin.

“Of what, babe? ‘s not like she can- well, I guess she could.”

I try to swallow past the nerves, and the unsaid words, but it’s difficult, to say the last. “Yeah, she could. It’s not very hard to Google your name and find the address of your firm. She must know by now that I work for you again.”

“Bug, even if she came t’ tha firm, she has t’ get past Amelia first, and that’s not gonna happen. She’d ring you and say who’s in tha lobby waitin’ fer you, you could easily turn her away, if anythin’.”

“You’re right.”

“‘m always right,” he coos, lifting a brow at me goofily when his piercing eyes meet mine. The curl to his lips doesn’t linger, and they soon flatten out with understanding and severity. “It’ll be okay, Becks. Do what feels right. Text her back and say no, or don’t talk t’ her at all. She doesn’t deserve yer time o’ day afta what she’s put you thru.’ Dunno how people like that can’t understand ya don’t jus’ get t’ pop in and out o’ yer kid’s life,” it’s a muttering as his head shakes back and forth. The whirring sound of the garage door opening before us fills the empty space of the car.

Harry knew. He knew all about it with the disappearing parent act, the parent who was preferable when they were absent. Yet, his Dad had popped back into his life, but this time he hadn’t left. Sometimes, I was a tad bit jealous, if I were honest. Not with him, though, but Skye sniffed it out on me once. I had wished a thousand times over since I was little that my mum was different, that she was a normal mum, and a better one. It never came true that wish, but yet at 28, I still found myself making it without trying. Lasting only moments, I still felt sour with guilt at times for the thought, despite being overjoyed for Harry about the recent development.

“Have you spoken to your dad lately?” I decide to say, draping my work bag over my shoulder.

“Ya, um . . yest’day, I think it was. He called me on my way back from tha courts. He’s doin’ a job in Edinburgh but wants t’ get together with us when he’s back. I don’t rememba him bein’ a good cook, but he wants t’ have us over fer dinner at his.”

“That sounds nice. Would you like that?”

The house is quiet and dark when we step inside. The typical one word male response comes as I set my shoes next to his on the mat, letting him take my light coat.

“Shit, kinda forgot ‘bout takeaway. Are leftovers fine, bug?”

“Yeah, I don’t care,” my answer comes. Harry’s humming fills my ears, and although I love it, my attention is held elsewhere.

“Let’s wait on dinner,” he announces, but not until his arms come around my middle do I start to pay attention. The two waiting texts before me disappear when Harry gently takes my phone away, setting it down on the kitchen island. “I think I have an idea o’ how I could take yer mind off o’ things.”

I can’t resist, the way my lips split into a smile. The containers of Harry’s famous stir fry are forgotten on the counter when I feel the first kiss he plants to my neck.

“Oh, really, Mr. Styles, what ever could that be?” it comes out in a giggle, because all control I thought I had is lost with my words. He looks close to one when I turn around in his arms, finding his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Anythin’ ya want, bug, anythin’ at all.”

“A baby?” I tease, reveling in the sight of his eyes widening. Now, the laugh spills from his decadent, cherry lips.

“Careful there, Becks, yer gettin’ ahead o’ yerself. Y’know my stipulations on that one,” he jokes, wagging a finger at me. The soft light above the granite top island lends a glow to his face, not that he’d ever need another one, considering the sunshine he holds. I wish I could say the same thing for me, but he whisks it away with those very words. “Y’know ‘ll give you a baby one day, all tha babies you want. But, fer now, what’ll make my bug happiest?”

My answer doesn’t come in words or a look- well, I may let one go on accident. It’s hard not to while his eyes bore into mine, my hands making their way up his chest underneath his button down. “Will you come and take a bath with me?”

“Certainly. Rough day, bug?” I only nod my head, feeling the knot in my throat when I try to swallow, unable to stop remembering them all. “Wanna talk ‘bout it?”

My head going from side to side suffices for words, and so does the way I drop my head to his chest. His solid arms come around me, smoothing my hair back with gentle strokes.

“Sounds like a bath bomb and back massage kinda night.”

“Thank you,” is all I say, because I know that he knows, without him having to say it.

“‘Course, my love, jus’ wanna make you happy.”

Closing my eyes, I try to forget the things that had piled up the last week, and the questions I wish I could ask him, but I’m not sure how.

I don’t know where it had started, or even when, really. As Harry dips his hand under the bathwater to get it just right, they come floating back to me. The way he had been distant, and yet not, but one outweighed the other.

“C’mere, my girl,” he coos, inching a finger back and forth, beckoning me over to him. Obliging, the floor is ice cold against my bare feet, but his hands deposit a warmth on my skin I’ve missed. “Can I help you get undressed, honeybug?”

Nodding, I absentmindedly pick a spot on the wall to stare at. It was an imperfection at best, a white divot amongst the soft gray. From one of Harry’s drunken nights nearing a year ago, it appeared one morning and he still hadn’t gotten it fixed. It went unnoticed for lengths at a time, but I wish I could say the same for the things I picked up on this week. The way he’d immediately hang up on a phone call when I entered the room, at work or home. Speaking of his phone, he wouldn’t let me use it when I’d happen to lose mine and needed to look something up, not even to take a picture. Instead, he’d make up some excuse about expecting a call, or that it was about to die, despite seeing his battery was at least half full. It confused me, to say the least, but that only shrank in comparison when it came to the apparent work dinner I wasn’t invited to the other night. Then, there was the entire absence of talking about ring shopping, as if it had never existed. I’d ask if we could go and look at this shop, and he’d agree to it but no more would be said. Or, I’d show him a ring I saw online and he’d have nothing more to say than a one word response. It didn’t help that Skye seemed too busy for me as well, cancelling our weekly dinner to hang out with Asher instead, as if we couldn’t have all hung out together. I could have used one of her pep talks, or so I thought until I mentioned my predicament to her, and she brushed it off, telling me it was probably nothing. That only drove me further up the Worry Wall, now wondering if I was making something out of nothing.

“Alright, bubs?”

She wasn’t alright, and I could tell. It was clear as day, beginning with the far away look in her eye. It only stuck as I lifted her sweater dress over her head, and peeled her black jeggings from her legs.

“Pinky P?” she ignored our inside joke and got into the tub first. As I unbuttoned my shirt, I watched her as she rested her chin on her knees that hugged her chest. I wondered if she knew, and if I had been too distant, trying to hide it from her. The last thing I would ever want to do in the world is to hurt her. I’m afraid that while trying to do the most important thing in my life, I’ve hurt her in the process.

“Becks, wanna go out t’ dinner t’gether on Friday? I heard ‘bout this really great place, I think we’d like it,” she hums an audible confirmation, it’s barely there, whilst holding the raspberry colored bath bomb in her hand. “‘m gonna go and warm up dinner and we can eat it in tha bath. That sound good t’ you, bub?”

“Sure,” she says, again. She usually loves my stir fry, and when she doesn’t request her classic big glass of milk with it to keep the spicyness in check, I know she’s not herself.

Shit, what have I done?

I find her eyes have lulled closed after I set my empty dinner plate on the floor on top of hers. “C’mere, li’l one,” I hum, waving my fingers in and out towards her. She groans a denial, content to rest her head on her knees still. I don’t take no for an answer, hooking my hands in the crease of her legs. “Becks baby.”

Huffing, she lifts her pretty head and stuns me with those eyes. A tiredness sits in them, something more than exhaustion from getting up at six am today. Flashing my award winning smile at her, she at last uncurls herself and wades through the bathwater until I pull her onto my lap.

Now, the hot water isn’t the only thing keeping me warm when she curls up against my chest. Water collects at the ends of her hair, making it hard to comb my fingers through, but only at first. Peering down at her, I watch as her bare chest rises and falls with breaths, something I once was so afraid of not seeing. To never get to see again.

I thank my lucky stars on the daily for still being blessed with this sight. Her temple is damp with beads of sweat and water mixed together, but I can still smell it there, the orange blossoms and vanilla. Her smell, one I could inhale forever.

“‘m sorry ‘ve been so busy lately, I know ‘ve been a bit distant,” it begins as a mumble on my lips, and there’s no stopping it in time. “Know you’ve noticed it too, and that ‘s upset ya.”

“Is something wrong? Did I-,” her question is spoken gingerly, fear in her voice tinged with self-consciousness.

“No, ‘course not, bug. Nothing’s tha matter, and you didn’t do anythin’ wrong, please don’t think you did. ‘ve jus’ been busy with a project at work, but I promise it’ll be finished soon,” the thought itself brought to life by my voice teases my lips with a smile, knowing the finish line that I approach. At last.

“Okay . . thanks, Harry.”

“Welcome, bubs,” I murmur, exhaling against her forehead. Her forehead is balmy where I rest my lips, letting my eyes shut too, listening to nothing but the sound of her breathing. After all of this time, I still felt a chill in my bones when my thoughts were yanked to her accident. Now, it only makes me feel as if my words didn’t do enough to reassure her, but I wasn’t sure what more I could do without giving it away. No, I couldn’t do that. “I love you so much, Becks, can’t wait t’ marry you one day.”

“I love you too, Harry,” it’s an almost snigger from her decadent lips. I wait for more, but it doesn’t come, not until she stirs in my arms.

“What d’ya think yer doin’?” it’s my turn to spill a giggle, watching her move in my arms until she’s facing me. More importantly, straddling my lap and running a hand through my hair.

Her answers came in a simple shrug of her shoulders, but the tilt to her lips spoke volumes more. My name for her sounds from my lips as a tut, but she quickly whisks it away with her own on mine. The rippling of the bath water around us is the only sound besides the way our lips move together. Her ass is spongy and slick beneath my naked fingers, and her squeal against my lips is heaven and everything more.

“Can I still take you up on that offer?” her words graze my mouth, craving me to reach forward and return them to mine.

“What offer, bug?” I ask under hooded eyes, mine boring into hers the color of bottomless oceans.

It was more than music to my ears, it was everything good stitched together by her lips, “To take my mind off things . . and yours, in the process.”

“Certainly,” I say, beginning to move until her hands push against my chest. “Use yer words.”

“Let me.”

It’s a giggled reply at best, because as she adjusts herself on top of me, any possibility of speaking soon wanes. “Yer bloody confusin,’ y’know that, Becks?”

“Is this confusing to you, Harry?” she murmurs with a flick of her expressive brows. It’s not her words, but something else that knocks some air out of me. Nearly impossible to notice, her composure has grown since she’s become a lawyer, especially as she starts to rub her crotch against my hardening member.

“Not at all, baby, jus’ tell me what you need me t’ do.”

“Kiss me,” she answers, fervor shining in her voice. I don’t even get to laugh before she steals it from me with her lips, bringing a groan from them next when she takes my dick in her hand.

A quiet battle rages inside of me, not wanting her to leave, but at the same time, I need her to. There’s never a day where she doesn’t look beautiful, and on days when she has court she tries even more. She asked me once when I find her the most beautiful, and her first guess was these days when she argued her case, but I said no. It brought her eyebrows together in confusion, pinching her oval face in the cutest of ways. No, I found her the most beautiful in the first light of the morning, in the way sleep clung to every bit of her, making her slower and more . . her. It could be found in the lighty giggles that she painted the air with, the way her nose scrunched together in the middle of one. Her hair swept in different places, and how she clung to me like my own personal koala. If koalas were simultaneously personal heaters. Becks was most beautiful in the morning, because in those first few minutes of waking up, I was reminded anew that she chose to be mine. A dream of mine I doubted over and over about the possibility of.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she didn’t need makeup to make her beautiful, but her eyelashes longer from mascara fluttered against her skin with the question. Her dark chocolate eyebrows she swept a pencil over every morning hugged the pale skin between them.

“Oh,” it plummets from my lips with astonishment, and a clearing of my throat. The left corner of her mouth greets her cheek when the gesture clicks with her. God, sometimes she can still take my breath away by just the sight of her, even several years later. “Ya still manage t’ make me weak in tha knees, y’know that? I dunno how you do it, bug,” I reply with a clicking of my tongue, edging towards her. A shade of coral arrives in her cheeks with my words and proximity, only growing darker when I wrap my arms around her from behind.

“So do you, you know.”

“Mmm, thought so, thanks fer tha confirmation, love,” it’s a reply joined by my nose against her temple. Her flighty laugh graces my ears once more, and I’m smiling without knowing it. God, I can’t wait to hear that laugh for the rest of my life. Which reminds me. “You and Rose should get goin’, love, if ya want t’ get t’ tha courts early. Lunch traffic may be bad.”

“Why are you trying to get rid of me, Harry?”

“‘m not, jus’ lookin’ out fer you, ‘s all,” I choose to say, glad she can’t see the way that I check my watch, seeing the texts waiting on my screen. Too similar to how they’re waiting.

“Okay, Dad. I’ll see you later then, for dinner tonight?” Suddenly, I’m looking into her eyes, the very color I hope our kids have. I know our kids will have them, they’ll be so lucky.

“‘ll see you afta yer done, bug. Good luck on yer case, I know you’ll smash it.”

“Thanks,” it’s spoken with warmth, one that I know I’ll miss despite wanting her to go. Needing her to go. “Still picking me up after?”

“‘Course, my love. We can’t f’get dinner t’night.”

“I’m excited. Rose said she likes Isabelle’s,” she comments, wasting her

time by playing with the opal ring on my hand. Mine that she’d stolen for a good while, and I finally took back. “They have really good desserts and steaks.”

“‘ve heard that too. Can’t wait t’ try some with you t’night,” it comes out with a smile, but I’m never sure that I could ever match hers. It had gotten better over the last few days, I think I was finding a balance between keeping it but not keeping her out. Her lips taste of cinnamon roll coffee creamer and cherry chapstick when I peck her, just how she always does. I could do with kisses tasting like that forever and ever. “Bye, bug. You girls drive safe now.”

“We will. Bye, have a good day.”

“See ya. Stop putzing, and get goin,’ li’l one,” I titter, savoring the taken aback look on her face when I slap her ass. The sound of her’s fills my ears as I join her in the hallway, watching her walk away and get onto the lift.

I give it a few more moments, imagining the space placed between us, hoping she won’t be returning for something she had forgotten. Now, that would be bad. Only once I feel confident, do my feet wake up and I start on my way, contradicted by the way my heart gallops like a horse right out of the gates.

“Here we go, Harry. One o’ tha biggest days o’ yer lives, jus’ on tha horizon,” I mumble aloud to me and only him, stopping when I reach the door. Already, I can hear their voices from this side, but before I can open it, I fill my lungs with an impatient breath.

Their sounds slowly fall when I make my entrance, feeling as I’m still running that race inside of my chest, knowing I’m nowhere near the finish line. Perhaps, I’m just a bit closer. When each of their faces lifts to mine, the faces of our families, it imbues me with a shattering sense of reality meeting dreams. One I’ve had held inside of me for so long now.

“Alright, so ‘bout t’night then. You lot ready t’ help me with this or what?”

I thought I knew what I was doing, but when I turned onto our street, I quickly found that I had no idea at all. I was afraid she could feel the clamminess of my hand, or that that feeling of hers would give it away all entirely. The dinner had gone as perfectly as it could’ve, and I couldn’t be more grateful. I only hoped that the next part would, because it was the most important one of all. Arguably, this would be the most important case of my life that I needed to win. A whirring of the garage door gave a background to my thoughts as I tap at my Apple watch, heaving a sigh when I see the text.

We’re all ready when you are!

Pulling my coat around me tighter, I follow Harry through the garage and into the house. He had promised more chocolate once we had gotten home from dinner. Although it sounded wonderful, I wasn’t sure how I could fit any more in my stomach after the lavish meal we had just stuffed ourselves with. I still couldn’t figure out why he had gone out of his way to have dinner together at one of the most expensive places in town, Isabelle’s.

I barely get the chance to shrug off my coat when I feel him tug on my hand. His name escapes my lips in a giggle, similar to the one that gleams in his eyes.

“C’mon, bug, there’s somethin’ I wanna show you,” Harry insists, waiting for me to join him. Leaving the dark downstairs, I follow him up the flight of wooden steps.

“What’s that?”

“Yer supposed t’ be able t’ see Jupiter t’night in tha night sky. I know ‘s yer favourite one, bug,” I find myself nodding along with his words. Still, I’m unable to tear myself away from the warm gray suit he donned for tonight, the one that started it all for us.

“Okay, but I really need the loo first.”

“‘Kay, take yer time. ‘ll try t’ see if I can find it fer us then,” the words leave my lips with a wobbliness to them. If that feeling of her’s was piqued or if she knew something, Becks didn’t let on. All she did was flash me a funny smile before rushing into the bathroom, hardly closing the door.

No matter the lengths I go to, I can’t seem to breath in long enough. It all was descending upon me, as I peeked out at the back garden and felt a warmth bubbling inside of me and onto my lips. The effervescent feeling carried through in my limbs as I stepped onto the balcony, pressing record before smoothing down my hair and my suit.

I felt like if it were ever going to happen, my heart would certainly leap from my chest tonight. Just in a matter of moments, for her. Because of her.

“Did you find it, Harry?” I wonder aloud, stepping through the doorway of the bathroom, returning to our bedroom.

“Y-Ya,” from the balcony of our bedroom, he responds. Was that a stammer, I just heard? “C’mere, bug, lemme show you.”

“Okay,” my answer comes, and so does a thought when I glance Harry’s phone propped up on our bed with the camera pointing at me. Funny that it landed that way, I wonder when he’s going to break it from tossing it onto our bed so many times, I think quietly to myself.

The midnight indigo sky beckoned me forth, as did Harry who looked at me over his shoulder. A soft glow from the balcony light fell over us as I stopped at the railing beside him, peering up at the night sky.

“Alright,” he sighs, stretching out his arm to point a ringed finger at the expanse of darkness. “Ya see that bright light over on tha left hand side o’ tha sky? There it ‘s, that’s Jupiter fer ya. Told ya I knew a thing or two ‘bout space, Becks.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” it comes out in a drawn out breath, astonishment dripping from my words. Even if it was just a twinkling light in the night sky, it was that seven letter word beginning with an A.

A tingly warmth builds on my cheek, and looking to my right, I find Harry smiling at me. For a second, I think I see a wetness collecting in his eyes, but it’s gone when I blink.

“What?”

My question sits in the air, unanswered by him while he brushes his thumb across my cheek.

“Yer amazin,’ Becks . . prettier than any star in any sky, my love,” his words are spaced out in between breaths, and his adam’s apple bobs in his throat, punctuating the end of his words. The corners of my lips lift into a smile, something he can never fail to do, but it was only one out of many.

“Thank you, Harry,” I murmur softly, stepping forward to press a kiss to his cheek. In the movement, something catches my eye. The feeling of his prickly cheek against my lips is but a memory as my gaze follows through with its curiosity. “Wait, what’s-.”

My lips pause and so does the question on my lips when I peer down at our back garden. The trees and bushes are lit up all over by candlelight. A breath gets caught in my throat as the image before me comes together, candles organized with their flames spelling two words. My hand instantly flies to my mouth as my breath escapes me, tears taking their place.

They read, MARRY ME?

I didn’t hear it or let alone see it, the way he had sunk down onto one knee, but when I turn to face Harry, the first one falls. Down my cheek, and then his. His trademark wheeze paints the air as his sages overflow with tears. Swallowing, I taste the briny ones on my lips as an image I’d dreamt of and doubted fills my eyes. It’s unmistakable, the way his knee shakes, the other bent underneath him as the light catches the gleaming diamond ring held in his hand.

“H-Harry,” it’s shaky and adorned with tears, but the sight before me becomes clearer when I blink. “Yes, of course, yes!” I exclaim, and he’s laughing deeply.

“I haven’t even said anythin’ yet, bug,” he chuckles loudly with a shake of his head. “C’mere you, get over here.” Obliging, my legs nudge me over to him where he takes my hand in his.

“Bloody hell, woman, I memorized this whole speech. Least let me try and say it,” the obnoxious and loud laugh that spills from his lips could never fail to be music to my ears. He blows out a breath from his lips rounded into an O, and we both shed apprehensive giggles. “Have I ever told you all o’ tha things I love most ‘bout you, Becks? I could write a book ‘bout ‘em all, but they start with how kind you always are. Reckon it was tha first thing I noticed ‘bout you after those killer eyes o’ yers on tha day we met. You’ve never stopped being kind t’ me, even when I didn’t deserve it, or when others didn’t. That and how bloody unrelenting you are were tha first things that struck me ‘bout you when you were my assistant, Becks. I never would’ve thought we’d get t’ where we are t’day seein’ where we started, but I could never thank you enough fer not givin’ up on me, Becks . . on us. God, ‘m ramblin’ now, ‘m sorry,” there it is again, his signature wheeze. A similar sound comes from me as we take a breather to wipe at our eyes. The only sound surrounding us is the galloping of my heart, probably his too, and my favorite sound falling from his lips.

“It’s okay, keep going. You’re doing great,” I urge him in a soft whisper, hoping my wink is half as good as his when he smiles that sunshine up at me. He nods once, squeezing my hand firmly before going back to tracing nervous circles onto my knuckles.

“Yer humor too, it may be cheesy sometimes, and not as funny as mine,” no, my wink could never be good as the one he gives me now. Effortlessly cute. “But I love it, and so many mo’ things ‘bout you, Rebecca Ann. Tha way you take care o’ me. I know ‘ve said it befo’ but yer so good t’ me with yer cookin’, puttin’ up with my cold feet in bed and tha way I hog tha covers, workin’ t’gether at me firm which I know presents ‘s own set o’ challenges, and how you’ve made me into a better person ev’ry day since I met you. Ya get on me nerves and yer stubborn as a bloody bull, but I can’t imagine spendin’ tha rest o’ me life with anybody but you. ‘s been that way fer years now, love, and I can’t go another day without you knowin’ it.”

“I do, Harry,” it’s a mere whisper, but his smile soaks it all up, and so does mine for his sunshine.

“Hey, what’d I say ‘bout you gettin’ ahead o’ yerself here?” his lips couldn’t lift higher and his sunshine couldn’t be brighter. Our heads shake with songs of laughter, my very favorite tune in the entire world. “Yer me favourite thing in this entire world, bug, and I want t’ spend tha rest o’ me life showin’ you that ev’ry day. I wanna have so many babies with you, even a li’l boy named Lennon perhaps, and a li’l girl named Luna, like we’ve said . . I want t’ argue cases with you fer tha rest o’ me career, ‘cos yer me favourite lawyer. Yer my partner, bug, and I always want t’ have you there at my side, Becks . . There’s so much mo’ I could say t’ you, tellin’ you how I love you, but I know I have tha rest o’ me life t’ do it. So, Rebecca Ann Holte-,” he pauses with a frog in his throat, shaking his head. A knot tightens in mine as I watch him press his face into the crook of his arm, crying quietly with a smile. Pulling away after a moment, he exhales and looks to me with a wet smile dripping with sunshine.

“Harry,” I sigh, tears tightening around my words.

Clearing his throat, he continues, “What d’ya say t’ changin’ that last name o’ yers t’ Styles fer me? Will you marry me, Becks?”

“There’s nothing I’d want more, Harry, than to spend the rest of my life with you,” they’re coated in tears, soon mixing with his when I collapse into his arms, my lips pressed against his. I feel the nervousness spill at last from his lips when they touch the crown of my head, laying kisses there in layers as we shed happy tears.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. Yer ev’rythin’ ‘ve ever wanted, Becks,” Harry whispers there, pressing me firmly against his front. The light catches the well of tears in his eyes when I belatedly pull away, bringing my hand to his cheek. “My fiancee.”

“Fiancee . . I like the sound of that,” I murmur, tracing the outline of his bottom lip. He nods with my words, just as a tear falls into the divot in his cheek.

“Y’know what I like tha sound of?” his voice is gentle and just above a whisper that I answer with my head cocked to the side. “Rebecca Styles. Becky Styles.”

It couldn’t feel sweeter, the sound that coasts off my lips, him soon replicating it. Even sweeter it tastes when I touch my lips to his, finding that same word in his smiling eyes. Following them, they fall to the mahogany colored wooden box he clutches in his hand.

“Oh, ya, can’t forget ‘bout this now. ‘s very important,” Harry says, opening the box once again, and I’m brought to tears by the sight of it.

“Harry, is that-,” I begin, but tears take hold of my voice prematurely, my hand over my mouth in disbelief. Sniffling, his ring laden hand dives into my hair, knowing how it calms me. “H-Her ring?”

Flicking my eyes to his, he hums a reply before his lips part, “Ya, ‘s yer Grandma Ann’s, Becks.” his neck smells of vanilla and sandalwood when I find myself in his arms again, spewing ugly tears onto his shoulder. “Been on tha phone with yer dad almost ev’ry day fer tha last two weeeks talkin’ ‘bout it, ‘bout doin’ this.”

Hiccups rack my chest when I pull away, eyes gravitating towards the glinting piece of jewelry tucked away into his large hand. “I-I see why you were being so sneaky lately,” I muster, swiping under my eyes. Despite the breaths I try to shove down my lungs, I can’t stop shaking.

“Ya, ‘m sorry ‘bout that. I thought somethin’ was up with you, figured you’d noticed. Didn’t mean t’ keep you out, Becks, but couldn’t have you findin’ out and spoilin’ all tha fun I had planned fer you,” he murmurs, booping my nose. My eyes fall shut when he presses his lips to my cheek, nudging his face against mine. “Important stuff here . . Now, let’s see if it fits.”

Gulping, I hold out my hand, wincing at the way it shakes. As I watch his long fingers delicately remove the golden ring from the velvet cushion, I try to remember how I’d come to be sitting on his lap. How all of this had happened. A sigh of relief washes over me when he takes my hand in his, gently squeezing it before his other nears it. With bated breath, my gaze flicks between his hand and his greens that watch the same.

A smile climbs my cheeks as Harry slides off my promise ring, pressing his lips to the naked skin. Happiness sighs from my lips with a choked sound, watching how he carefully places the thin golden band onto my finger. Folding my fingers into his, his wheeze graces the air as I admire the nostalgic ring.

“They’re me Grandma Claire’s diamonds too, from her wedding ring. She wanted me t’ use ‘em when I told her I was goin’ t’ propose t’ you,” he explains softly as I tilt my hand back and forth, watching how the several diamonds catch the light.

“Oh, Harry,” it catches in my throat as disbelief paints my insides. Guilt rises with it as I remember growing upset with him in my mind, fearing that this was never going to happen. Now, as I stare down at the ring that seals our promise, I truly can’t fathom it. Seeing is believing.

I’d seen this ring time and time again whilst growing up, admiring it on several occasions. My gran even let me wear it once or twice, joking that it was because I was her favourite. I never thought I would get to wear it one day myself, and that thought makes my vision swim with more tears. Blinking them away, I brush my thumb over the round diamond set into the middle, and the smaller tear drop shaped ones set into the winding bands of gold connecting to the main band.

“How’s it fit, bug?”

“Perfect,” my answer is shy, riddled with memories from the only other time I’d worn it before. It had once swallowed my finger, hanging dangerously loose. Not now. No, it fit me snugly, reminding me of all of the years that had passed. Bringing my eyes to his, the dimples only fall deeper into his cheeks. “It’s more than beautiful, Harry, thank you . . Thank you for letting me keep her with me every day, and Claire too.”

“Yer mo’ than welcome, Becks. ‘m so happy that they get t’ be a part o’ this with us.”

My chest only shakes harder when he says those words, and I even feel his do the same against mine. At last, the dryness in my throat wasn’t because of pain or hurting, but for a moment, I let myself feel that. I allow myself to remember speaking with her about when I would get married one day as I wore her ring that was too big for me, wishing for a second that I could go back to that day.

“Harry, you have no idea how much this means to me . . to get to have her with me for this.” wrinkles gather around his eyes when I see them again. They’re painted with tears, and the mere sight of him makes my heart swell. I never thought it could be this good. No, not when I dreamt out loud with my gran about one day wearing a big, white dress and marrying the man of my dreams. I could have never known that I’d be blessed with a man who was that, and more. “I used to talk to her about my silly little girl dreams of getting married, and she’d let me try on her ring and . . “ I muse, my forehead pressed to his, staring at the ring together.

“Yer dad told me ‘bout that, it only made it seem even mo’ perfect t’ use her ring. He was so happy t’ pass it on t’ me, Becks- onto you,” Harry whispers, sponging kisses across my face in slow movements. I couldn’t remember a time when I hadn’t been smiling, and was sure that I’d never be able to stop, mumbling soft ‘thank you’s to him.

“Well?!” comes a shout from nowhere. Nearly jumping, my gaze lifts to the balcony railing and the flickers of light I make out through them where the voice had come from. “What’d she say?! We’re bloody dying over here waiting, and freezing our asses off, mind you!” When my eyes meet Harry’s, our giggles light up the air around us, our breaths mingling.

“I’m fucking freezing! Are you done yet?” comes yet another voice, one that I also recognize. My eyebrows only fall further into a question as I look at Harry.

His shoulders rise only to fall, “What? Don’t think I set up all o’ those candles and lit ‘em meself, d’ya? ‘s flatterin’ if ya think so, but I had a li’l help.”

“What, who?”

“Who d’ya think, bug? Our family,” he answers, swiping his thumb underneath my eye to catch a tear. It makes my lips still, the way he said it. They’re my family now, and mine is his. “Care t’ do tha honors, or shall I?”

“You can. I just know you’re itching to,” it’s a giggle that only grows louder as he lifts his eyebrows at me.

“She said yes! We’re gettin’ married!” Harry shouts, and a loud cheer follows ensuite from down below. My favorite sound in the world fills my ears when his lips come to press against my head. “My Becks, forever and ever, baby.”

“Forever,” I repeat aloud, trying it out, as if I hadn’t already a million times over in my head. “Wait, who all did you rassle together for this sneaky mission of yours?”

“We’ll meet you inside, it’s fucking cold out!” Robbie shouts, followed by a loud ‘brr.’

It comes from his lips again, that sound. Tilting my head to meet his eyes, the sound of his heart thumps in my ear. I’m not sure I could have found a better spot.

“As you can tell by their loud mouths, Skye and Robbie, first o’ all. Then, ‘course yer dad and my mum, me sister, Myles, and Asher,” he grins, pride dripping from every word he speaks. “My Dad helped with tha reservation at Isabelle’s, he couldn’t have spoke higher o’ tha place. I can see why now, can’t picture our pre-proposal dinner bein’ anywhere else. It only made t’night mo’ perfect . . ‘d thought o’ doin’ it with Scrabble tiles, seein’ how ‘s always been our thing, but I wanted somethin’ grander. Mum and Gemma gave me tha idea o’ spellin’ it out bigger ‘til I thought o’ candles. Then, it was jus’ a matter of gettin’ enough o’ ‘em and lightin’ ‘em. I left tha hard part t’ them, and that jus’ left me with tha ring. Reckon that was really tha most difficult o’ all. Me Gran said I could have her wedding ring, I almost started cryin’ I was so choked up ‘bout it. It was that weekend I took ya home with me, seems it made her a li’l emotional talkin’ t’ ya knowin’ what was gonna happen. That was ‘til yer dad said he wanted me t’ have yer Grandma Ann’s ring, seein’ how close tha two o’ you were . . It jus’ seemed perfect, ‘d been thinkin’ so long on what kinda ring t’ get you, and it jus’ clicked. ‘Course, I still wanted t’ include me Gran somehow. Yer Gran’s ring was missin’ a few stones and hers fit jus’ right. I couldn’t be happier ‘bout tha ring, Becks, and it looks so beautiful on you, love. Like . . like it was made fer you, bug.”

Words escape me, not that any feel like they could do any justice at this moment. No, those ones aren’t anywhere to be found, besides the ‘thank you’ I tell him, and the other one I say to him with my lips.

I’m unsure if my legs will ever stop feeling like Jello when he helps me stand, my arms around his waist at the soonest chance. His lips radiated sunshine, but this time, every inch of his face did too. It’d spread to his limbs, imbuing me with his contagious rays when his arms come around me, and the way his lips wouldn’t leave mine alone.

“What are you doing?” it’s a mumbled question laced with pure confusion when he pulls me over to the right side of the balcony. Realization only dawns on me when I watch what he picks up, light at last revealing it. “You recorded it?” there they are again, hugging my voice and refusing to let go.

“‘Course, I did,” Harry grins, sliding his hand into the cloth handle on the other side of the compact camcorder. “Still am, look at my beautiful fiancee, and soon t’ be wife.”

“Harry,” it sounds sad until my laugh overwhelms it, because my smile hasn’t even signalled a departure.

“Look at that dimple shinin’ so bright,” he remarks, thumbing at the indent in my left cheek. It wanders to the imperfection below my eye. His hand is warm and clammy when mine comes to surround it, overflowing his eyes with tears. “And that ring- bloody hell, can’t believe I get t’ marry you- Hey, kids, if yer watchin’ this one day, which I bloody well hope you are, this ‘s yer Mum. ‘sn’t she absolutely gorgeous? I can’t wait t’ marry yer Mummy, she’s truly tha best person ‘ve met in me entire life- well, ‘til we meet you lot.”

“Harry,” this time, it’s choked with a sob, or a few. His hand comes to his eyes, pressing his thumbs against his greens with that sunshine on his lips. The breathy sound of happiness sings from his lips when he drops it after a few moments of soft tears, staring back at me, his book wide open.

“Figure we should show ‘em tha main attraction,” panning to the right, I follow him to the balcony where the multitudes of flickering flames still remain. “We’ll hafta go and blow ‘em out.”

“Not yet. I just want to look at them awhile . . with you.”

His reply is only a sniffle, amplified by the way he pulls me against his side, pointing the lens at us now. I look past it, down at the ground where the sight still steals the breath from my lungs, just like the pair of lips on my forehead.

A few moments later, maybe longer, Harry’s whisper breaks through my thoughts, “Ready t’ go downstairs and show ev’rybody?”

“Just a few more minutes.”

“Dontchu worry, we’ve got forever, Becks.”

Usually, I’d roll my eyes at the cheesy line he deals, but I can’t stop staring at him, still smiling at the thought of getting that with him. Forever.

It beckoned me, trying and failing to drag me away, but I still wasn’t ready. Soft snores had begun to leave his lips long ago. I’m not even sure what the hour was anymore. Skye was the last to leave, to nobody’s surprise, when the small hand was nearing the eleven. Chocolate galore, charcuterie boards, pizzas, and sparkling grape juice filled the hours amongst more crying and stories upon stories. Harry’s clothes were the first to go once we were alone, and mine followed his soon after.

I wondered if I’d ever stop thinking about it, or more importantly, stop staring at it. Only the least bit of light ran through the barely closed curtains, catching the ring, just like it’d always been. I also wondered when I’d stop crying, it was a little embarrassing when it happened in between the sheets with Harry.

His stirring beside me brought my eyes upward and to him. Lines gathered on Harry’s forehead in his sleep, relaxing a second later. A huff fell from his lips and into the air as he relaxed, an inked arm stilling underneath his pillow. With a long blink, I belatedly tug the covers over my shoulders, nuzzling my head into the crook of his neck. He didn’t groan anymore or even move at the touch, or when the tip of my finger begins to trace the lines of the numbers hovering over his heart. The year that started it all, a three letter word that now had turned into forever, something I never thought I would get to have with him. I fall asleep with the smile still stuck to my lips, unwavering against the warm skin of his neck.

A few days later, and it still hadn’t worn off. Secretly, I was hoping that it never would. Again, the smile still came when I caught sight of the promise on my finger, and was only a reach away. When I stopped in front of the sink in our ensuite bathroom, it fell when I called to Harry with a question, but only for a moment.

“Babe, have you seen my pill pack?”

“No, I don’t think so. Have you checked tha usual spots?”

“Yeah, I don’t know where I put it,” sighing, I pad across the cold, tile floor. “Oh. Well, I’m sure I’ll find it.”

Song: Let’s Get Married by The Bleachers (click to listen) ;) ;)

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razaks-wheel · 4 years

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[Milia finally talks to Vivec about her PTSD from getting killed/vestiged. Content warning for depictions and discussions of self-harm.]

---

Talvini was finishing making dinner when Milia arrived at home. Despite her exhaustion, Milia put on a smile for her girlfriend. She did not want to burden her with the weight of the day she'd had.

"How was work?" Talvini asked. "You went on a raid, right?"

"Yeah, it was fine," Milia said. "I died, but no big deal."

She immediately regretted disclosing even that much when she saw Talvini's response: the falter in her preparations, the softened expression with the raised eyebrow, waiting for more, but not wanting to press. As much as she appreciated the concern, it was really the sort of thing she would prefer to forget. Still, she knew Tal would worry until she talked about it.

"I was trying to scout ahead, but I messed up. Got sort of...gutted by one of the cultists. My squadmates got me to safety, but I was still bleeding out. I tried to tell them to just stab me in the heart and get it over with so that I could reform, but those s'wits didn't have the stomach. Took the better part of an hour in a haze of agony and spitting up blood before I finally died."

Her hand floated down to her stomach as the pain came back to her.

"Anyway, I need a few minutes to get changed."

She tried to avoid Tal's gaze as she headed upstairs.

The emotions finally reached her once her armor was off and her fresh clothes waited for her in a pile on the bed. She wanted to fight it, but instead lowered to the floor and wrapped her arms tight around herself while the tears reluctantly flowed.

Why am I so weak? Why can't I handle a little pain? I deserved it! I messed up! What if it had been real?

She squeezed tighter. Her nails dug deep into her shoulders. It stung, because she was weak. Because she couldn't handle the pain she deserved for her carelessness. She dragged her nails across her shoulders and onto her arms, noticing only after a moment that she had imbued them with burning magic. That was fine; she deserved to hurt, She bit her lip as the new wounds pulsed with pain.

She would have to get back downstairs soon before Tal got worried and came up to look for her and saw her like this. She quickly bandaged the wounds, not bothering with any burn salve—she needed to feel the reminder of her failure—threw her clothes on, wiped her eyes, and headed back down for dinner.

The following day at work was a normal one, standing guard in Vivec's palace. At the end of the day, Vivec asked if ze could speak with her in hir quarters. This was not an uncommon request; sometimes there was business to deal with outside of the public view. She followed hir inside, and they sat down among the cushions on the floor.

"May I take a look at your shoulders?" Vivec asked.

The panic quickly rose within her. Why would Vivec ask about that so directly? What happened to offering vague conversational hooks that she could easily refuse?

"It's nothing, really," she said with a wave of her hand, suppressing a wince as she jostled the wounds. "Just a scratch. Not that bad. Nothing to worry about."

Vivec shook hir head. "I have permitted you to lie about your well-being before, Milia, because you knew that I knew the truth. But the time for that has passed. I am no longer going to pretend that I believe you when you say you are fine. You are not fine."

"Really, it's—I mean, I know I messed up, but I can handle it. I...need to handle it."

"On the contrary, you need nothing of the sort. I will not order you to talk to me about everything that is on your mind—though I would welcome it—but I am ordering you to have your shoulders healed. So, you can let me apply this burn salve and then heal the wounds, or I can send you to Ayem who can bypass the first step and heal you through your cuirass. Which would you prefer?"

"I'll stay here," she said quietly.

She had no issues with taking her cuirass off in front of Vivec—ze was a god; she knew ze was entirely unfazed by it—and when feeling vulnerable, she would prefer to be in the presence of her patron rather than a less familiar god. Still, she cursed herself for getting into this situation. She supposed it was her punishment for letting it go too far. At least Vivec wasn't chastising her.

The salve stung for a moment, until Vivec incorporated an analgesic effect with hir other hand. She almost wished ze would let her feel the full weight of the pain, but part of her was grateful nonetheless.

"Do you want to talk about what led you to this point?" Vivec asked as ze went.

"Want? No," Milia said. "But I know I should."

She tried to gather her thoughts, but there were too many.

"I don't know where to start. Are you sure you don't want to just jump into my head and pull out my thoughts?"

"I am sure," ze said. "I would like to hear your story in a way that can only come from being shaped by your voice. Why don't you start with what happened last night, and we can work backwards?"

"Right." She took a few more moments to prepare, and then said, "Last night, I...got overwhelmed. I felt betrayed by Daron and Felil for not just killing me when I asked them to, and more than that, I was angry at myself for slipping up again, and getting killed, again. I thought maybe they were right to let me bleed out in agony. Maybe I deserved it. Maybe I still deserved to hurt. I noticed myself clawing at my own skin and I thought, 'Yeah, that's fine. That's good, actually.' So I let it happen. Then I realized I was using my Burning Embers spell, and I figured, all the better."

"They were not right, and they will be chastised for this mishandling of the situation. The ease with which they kill cultists, contrasted with their unwillingness to even temporarily kill an ally hints at concerning truths about how they conceptualize the humanity of their enemies," Vivec said. "But I digress. You believe you deserved pain for letting yourself get hurt?"

"Well...yes. Sort of. I can't seem to learn otherwise."

"Learn what?"

"Learn to avoid getting myself killed," she said. "I'm supposed to be better than that."

"You also put yourself in dangerous situations for your squadmates' sake because you know you can safely die if need be."

"I know but...but I hate it so much. I get—forgive me, I shouldn't admit this, but I get nightmares about dying all the time. I have ever since the first time. I promise my faith is true, even if I'm showing signs of soul sickness. And I know I should be grateful! I should be glad that I have the ability to get back up when I'm killed. But every single death is another failure, another instance of me not being good enough. Not strong enough, fast enough, smart enough, whatever.

"For the first seventy-two years of my life, I would pride myself on being able to handle myself against whatever dangers I would realistically face. Now? Every week, month, whatever—it feels like it's always happening—something finds a way to kill me. And then it's one more thing to add to the list of dangers I can't withstand. The list is getting pretty long.

"And one of these times is going to be the last time. I'll be a little too far from a soul gem, or my body will reject the resurrection, or something. And I won't be able to get up. Because I'll be dead. Dead dead. And the last thing I do will be to fail."

Vivec placed a hand over her right hand, and she realized she had been digging her nails again into her left arm. She tried to mumble an apology, but her voice broke and the emotions that she had been putting off by continuing to talk spilled over now that she had taken a moment to pause. She instinctively went to wipe her eyes, but remembered that her shoulders were currently being restricted in their movement.

"I'm sorry," she managed to get out after a moment. "I know none of this sounds like a good reason to...do what I did. Maybe I'm just weak. I know I'm weak." She exhaled. "I understand if you think I'm not qualified to be an Armiger."

"Do you really think you could get out of my service so easily?" Vivec asked with a shred of levity in hir voice. Ze returned hir hand to her shoulder and continued in a more serious tone, "You already explained: you hurt yourself because you were overwhelmed. The rest is context."

"Oh," Milia said. "Is it really that simple?"

"I would not call it simple. It is life, woven into story. It can be shorn down to an essence, yes, but do not let that mislead you into discounting the complexity of your full experience." Ze pulled hir hands back. "Your shoulders are healed."

She wiggled her arms a bit, and indeed, there was no more pain. She put her undershirt back on and turned to face Vivec.

"Thank you," she said. "And I apologize for my weakness."

Ze shook hir head. "Shame will not help. You are a Vestige, Milia. Few know what it is like to go through what you have been through, and fewer still respond by regularly throwing themselves at death to help others. You are navigating a strange and frightening territory, and your response is understandable. I will ask you this: Have I earned your trust?"

"Of course. You're my god."

"Have I truly? Will you come to me in the future, before you find yourself overwhelmed?"

"I will...try harder," she said. "It's just difficult."

"I know. But I hope I have proven to you that you will be safe. That I will not lash out, punish you, fire you, re-educate you, anything that might worry you. That I will simply offer my aid as your god. And even if you do become overwhelmed, and you do hurt yourself again, I still will not be angry. I would not order you never to do it again; that would do more harm than good. I will instead ask that if you find yourself in that situation again, try not to use fire. And either way, come to me—or to someone—for a heal. Deal?"

She nodded slowly. "Deal."

Vivec stood up and helped Milia to her feet.

"Yes, you may have a hug," ze said, reading her mind.

She felt a warmth in the hug, as though ze had meant everything ze had said, as though ze truly cared about her well-being. She supposed ze had really earned her trust, as much as her anxious mind could allow.

When the hug was finished, Vivec opened a portal.

"You should get home before Talvini worries. More than she already has, that is."

#milia #razak's ocs #all my tribunal-loyal kids get a hug from their respective patrons at some point; it's the law #self harm cw

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sometimesiwritebadly · 4 years

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The Lost Girl (Part 3)

Chapter Summary: In the past, Raven confronts Killian and Liam for the first time in years. In the present, Raven and Hook begin working together to save David from the dreamshade poison.

Notes: lmao remember that time i said it wouldn’t be long until the next chapter? that was funny. also ao3 saw it first

Warnings: Language, brief mention of suicide

Word Count: 1.9k

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~~~ A Very Long Time Ago ~~~

Raven really didn’t want to do this. She was hiding behind some bushes, watching Liam and Killian make the journey up to dead man’s peak, searching for the deadly dreamshade. She knew she had to convince them not to take the plant back to the Enchanted Forest, but confronting the two of them would mean admitting some of her deepest secrets. Killian, assuming he hasn’t grown out of his inquisitive nature, would have hundreds of questions. But Liam...she knew for a fact what he’d ask. “Why did you leave me Talia? Did I mean nothing to you?” She could practically hear him say it, with his ocean blue eyes filled with pain. Liam had meant so much to her, and she to him...Raven would never admit it to anyone, but in a better world, she would’ve happily married him.

Raven watched as they got closer and closer to the dreamshade, the brothers talking about their encounter with Pan. She took a deep breath, then appeared in front of Liam, blocking the path. Liam had his sword in front of him, using it to clear away any plants in their way. When he spotted her, he didn’t lower it.

“What do you want?” He asked, his voice laced in anger. Ouch. Killian took a much kinder approach.

“Is it really you, Talia? How can this be?” Raven had to resist letting a smile overcome her face. He was still so kind, after all this time.

“It’s Raven now. I, uh, I took a new name. When I left the ship.” She took a deep breath, gathering more courage before continuing, “It really is me, though. No one ages on Neverland...I had no idea it had been so long until I recognized you.” Liam finally yielded, putting his sword away, but his hardened face showed no emotion at Raven’s explanation.

“Tal -” Killian stopped himself, before continuing without the use of her name, “We thought you were dead...we thought you’d - How did you even get here? Why did you never come back? Why'd you leave?” There it was, all the questions that Raven did not want to answer. Instead, she changed the topic to what she had really come for.

“It doesn’t matter. I came to tell you that you can’t take the dreamshade back to the Enchanted Forest. It’s too dangerous.” Her comment only made Liam scoff.

“Nice try Raven ,” He said, mocking the name, “But your suitor already tried. And I don’t mean to offend, but I’d rather believe my king than a traitor like yourself.”

Raven tried not to let his comment affect her, instead trying again to persuade him. “Look, you don’t need to forgive me. After today, you never need to see me again. Just trust me one last time-”

“Trust you? You abandoned us! How can I trust you? You know-” He paused for a moment, taking a menacing step towards Raven, “I wish you had walked off the plank like we thought for all those years. At least then I could remember you as a friend, instead of knowing the truth of your bad form.”

Killian’s eyes widened at his comment, and at the fury that was appearing in Raven’s eyes. He took a step back from the pair, sensing the argument would only get more heated.

Raven began yelling this time. “Bad form? The only bad form here is trying to win a war for a ruthless, idiotic king by cheating! You have absolutely no idea what I was going through on that ship-”

Liam cut her off once more, yelling even louder than she, “Yes I do! I know exactly what you were going through because you were my best friend! I told you everything and you did the same! I thought we had a future, but you - Did you even care for me at all? Did you not think for one moment how you leaving would affect me?

“You know what,” Raven began walking away from the brothers as she spoke, “Go ahead! Kill everyone with the dreamshade. Kill the other army, kill your own army, kill yourselves with it! May the last thing you think of when the poison takes over your heart be regret. You can die thinking about how the traitor Talia was right! ” With her final words, she disappeared from their sight, heading back to camp.

~~~ Present Day ~~~

“How are you holding up, mate?” Hook asked David, who was very obviously struggling as they walked.

“Just fine. Perfect. Why would anything be wrong.” David replied, glancing back at Raven as he tried to appear in perfect health.

“Yeah, you don’t need to fake it. I know you’ve been poisoned by dreamshade.” Raven said, making David stop walking and look at Hook with anger.

“You told her?!”

“He didn’t have to, mate. It’s obvious to anyone familiar with the side effects.” Despite Raven’s assurance that Hook hadn’t broken what little trust David had put in him, the prince felt no need to apologize, instead answering Hook’s original question.

“Don't worry about me. Just worry about getting us to the sextant.”

“As entertaining as that was, I wasn’t talking about the poison. I meant the good-byes. Looked a bit stormy back there.” David began walking again, letting the other two follow behind him.

“I did what had to be done, and I did it out of love. Emma and Mary Margaret will understand that.” He explained, before stopping once more at a nearby tree.

“I hate to break it to you, but-” Raven started, before Hook cut her off.

“You’re gonna tell them that from beyond the grave.” He said, earning a glare from the girl.

David looked at the two of them once more before correcting, “No. You are. You two are gonna tell them that I died a hero, fighting for their way home. What you're not gonna tell them is that I left already a dead man.”

“You don’t think your family deserves the truth?” Raven asked.

“What do you know of family?” Hook muttered, although he made no effort to hide the comment from Raven. In return, Raven hit his arm as hard as she could.

David, ignoring the childish exchange, answered Raven’s question. “Their last memories of me won't be of a liar.”

“Why should I help you?” Hook asked. Raven was surprised at his question, considering the whole point of this journey was to save David’s life.

David chuckled at the question before answering, “Well, if you didn't steal that bean, they wouldn't have had a chance to take Henry, we wouldn't be on this island, and I wouldn't be dying of dreamshade.”

“Nice going, Hook.” Raven muttered. This time, Hook hit her arm.

“Fair point.” He replied to David, “At least you got to say good-bye. Most people don't get that much.” David paused for a moment, before looking back at Hook. Hook kept walking, taking the lead before David spoke again.

“You lost someone, didn't you?” Hook glanced at Raven for just a single moment before ignoring David’s question. If David noticed the exchange, he didn’t say anything.

“This is where we ascend. I'll climb ahead and throw down the rope.” Raven looked up at the peak, remembering the horrible day she had been there with Hook and Liam. David and Hook kept arguing as Hook began to climb up, but she didn’t pay much attention. She wished more than anything she could go back, make her last words to Liam anything other than what she had said.

~~~ A Very Long Time Ago ~~~

When Raven returned to the Lost Boy’s Camp, she was fuming. Their numbers were few, as Pan had only recently begun recruiting people to permanently stay on the island, so there was plenty of room for the Lost Boys to stay the hell away from Raven as she stormed about. She was muttering to herself, complaining about how “Liam think’s he’s all that,” and “Of course he became a fucking Captain,” and how, “He’s just some king’s little bitch.”

When Pan noticed his Raven’s mood, he turned to Felix for answers.

“I think she talked to the adults that showed up earlier.” Was the only answer Felix had for him.

“Well I knew that much, you idiot-”

“I can hear you two!” Raven snapped, cutting off Pan. Pan winced, turning around to see Raven staring right at them. He sent Felix off with a look, before walking over towards the girl.

“So..care to explain?” He asked, sitting next to Raven on a log.

“They’re idiotic adults who are going to end up killing their entire country-”

“Not that, Raven. Clearly you know them.”

Raven sighed, looking down at her hands before telling the truth. “We lived on that ship together. They were my friends. Now they’re idiotic adults who would rather trust some dumb king than their oldest friend.”

“You lived on the- you said there weren’t any boys on the ship!” Pan exclaimed, remembering the first night he met Raven. When she glared at him, he conceded. “But that’s not important now….you tried your best to tell them the truth. It’s up to them now.”

“I just want them off the island. As soon as possible.” This made Pan grin. Sounds like a good game, and Pan loves a game.

“Now that, I can do for you.”

~~~ Present Day ~~~

Raven and David watched as Hook climbed up the mountain. The plan was for Hook to climb up and throw a rope down so David could make it up the mountain. Raven’s job was just to make sure he stays alive until then. Hook had wanted Raven to just “poof” them up to the top, as he put it, but Raven insisted that it would be better to avoid any magic, as Pan can trace it easily.

Hook was nearly all the way up the mountain before David made any attempt at conversation.

“So...how long have you known Hook?” He asked, making Raven look away from the climbing pirate.

“Uhhh.. I’m not sure.” Raven answered honestly, “I’ve probably been on this island for hundreds of years.”

“Well sure..it’s just that you two seem close.”

“Close?!” Raven repeated, unsure if she’d heard David right. “Hook and I are nowhere near friends, I’m not sure where you got that idea, mate.”

“I don’t mean that you’re friends, I just mean that you argue more like you’re siblings than enemies.” David’s observation made Raven go quiet. “C’mon, I’m a dying man. And I’m curious.”

Raven scoffed at David’s attempt to get her to tell the truth, but decided to tell him anyway. “Hook and I knew each other before either of us came to Neverland.”

“What, like, when you were kids?”

“I’m still a kid, thank you very-” Raven suddenly sensed the presence of Pan, making her stop talking. She looked around the forest, before realizing that Pan was at the top of the mountain with Hook.

“What is it?” David asked, sensing her concern.

“Pan’s up there.”

“How do you know? Is Hook ok?” David asked.

“I just know, ok. And I’m not sure about Hook...but he hasn’t thrown the rope down. Think you can climb without it?” Raven asked, but before she even finished the question, David was slowly beginning to climb. “Guess that’s a yes…” She mumbled, before pulling her hands on the rocks and pulling herself up.

~~~

tag: @peculiarinsomniac

#peter pan #peter pan ouat #peter pan fic #peter pan x oc #ouat fic #ouat season 3 #ouat fanfiction #once upon a time #once upon a time fanfiction #once upon a time fic

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cloakedandsoaked · 3 years

Text

Wants and Needs

[This is straight-up porn. Don’t read it if you don’t want to read porn. Contains lots of blood, a wee bit of self-harm, consensual non-consent, and probably other things I haven’t thought to warn for.]

As Dantalion threw his head back, lines of fire cutting down each side of him, his last remaining thought flickered in wonder at how he had managed to find himself here. For ‘here’ he most certainly was, covered in sweat and ichor, with a demon he'd just met leaning over him in an unfamiliar bed, to which he was tightly bound. And then the thought was gone, banished with all the others to wherever thoughts disappear to in the throes of ecstasy.

If it had stuck around, it might have elucidated for us the circumstances that had led Dantalion to this peculiar state of affairs. Indeed, it might have told first of the deep itch that had taken hold in his bones some time over the past few days, an itch to which he was all too accustomed. It came in times of stress, in times of boredom, and, sometimes, at least as far as the duke himself could tell, for no particular reason at all.

In the past, he would have ignored such an itch. Or, failing that, he might have tried to scratch it himself, though that usually didn't take very well or for very long -- and it seemed to upset Sahar, which he had no real inclination to do.

But now….

Well, he had been trying to allow himself as much of what he wanted as possible. In the aftermath of his emotional experiments, giving in to desire seemed to help quiet the hollowness, at least for a time.

And what he desired was for someone to hurt him. Properly.

Not enough, of course, to render him unfit for duty; he was needy, not insane. He just wanted someone to, y'know. Rough him up a bit. Take the edge off that grasping, cloying thirst beneath his skin that cried out for some kind of stimulation.

One of the downsides to using his physical form as a sensory muffler was that he sometimes felt too muffled, almost claustrophobic under the smothering blanket burrito of his flesh. And since he wasn't going to leave that flesh unless absolutely necessary, sometimes -- just sometimes -- he needed something to reach between the bars of his self-made prison and touch him for real.

Or, at least, as close to 'real' as it was going to get.

He'd had Sahar set up the appointment for him, even allowing her to select the practitioner. Someone discreet, secure. (Obscenely well-paid, as should be obvious.) Thankfully, she had a shortlist ready and waiting, as it had been for years. It was an old argument of theirs, and, until now, she had never convinced him to book.

With only half an hour 'til the appointment, Dantalion had quite nearly bunnied out, despite the fact that he would lose his deposit. However, he found his mind turning to Asmodeus, and his resolve pulled through. Asmodeus would be disappointed by the idea that he couldn't even visit a professional dominant without turning coward. He took a deep breath, centered himself, and flipped the switch on his nervousness.

That's right, this is supposed to be good, isn't it? The hollowness was back, and with it, the itch, and with the itch, an unsettling but not unfamiliar sort of desire. Yes, this is how it's supposed to be. No more nights spent trying to clench himself together, or worse, trying to find fulfillment in his own claws, but unable to escape his bullet train of a mind even as he bled a pool onto the floor. Straightening his back, he had left his office with a new confidence.

And that confidence held, even through the consultation. Of course, he and Master Rodger (Really? Tal had thought, ‘Rodger’ of all things?) had communicated by email the day before, so both of them knew at least some of what to expect.

Well, Tal didn't expect Master Rodger to have easily a metre on him (Not even counting the horns, stars!); that part was a surprise. And not at all an unwelcome one, Tal noted vaguely in the part of his mind that wasn't focused on maintaining his social mask. Although he knew his mask was going to slip at some point in the evening, and, indeed, that was part of the point, it didn't do to be anything less than a perfect gentlebeing outside of the scene. Manners mattered.

It helped that Master Rodger (For real, that has to be a work name, Dantalion kept thinking. And of course it was.) was warm and open, exactly the sort of person to make one want to reflect those qualities back. It rang a bell of familiarity in Tal's mind; it carried an essence of similarity to the seeping heat of Asmodeus, but much less intense, and without the sense of nervousness and... almost… violation? that always came along with it.

(Then again, he hadn't seen Asmodeus except in picture form since his experiments with the switch method, and next time, the experience might be totally different. It was hard to say. He rather hoped so! That was part of the purpose of the whole affair, after all.)

They discussed the usual necessities. Safewords, limits, aftercare, any other concerns. They settled on the classic traffic light system for safewords; no surprise there. Most of Tal's limits had been outlined in their online communication, but he reinforced a few. I'm in charge of my breathing. I'm in charge of my eye contact. Master Rodger made a point of reminding him of a limit or two of his own, including 'no kisses on the mouth', one Tal actually took quite a bit of comfort in. It wouldn't have been something he'd have listed, himself, but it was certainly not something he enjoyed most of the time.

It did, admittedly, get a bit awkward when Dantalion had to show him (for it was a tricky subject) exactly how he liked and didn't like his hair and scalp to be touched. No amount of warmth and openness could save him there. He felt as if he were on display in a way far more scandalous than was typically possible for the amount of clothing he still had on. The sensation was, if he were honest with himself, a little bit exciting, though that didn't cut through the social ticklishness of the moment.

And then they were ready, and all at once, the nervousness from before sprang again like a tiger to devour him from the inside. In what way, he wasn't sure, but he must have revealed it as they made their way to the back room, for Master Rodger laid a paw in the middle of his back (which was honestly about as low as he could reach with his paw without bending; Stars, but he's tall!), and rubbed a calming circle there. "Just like we talked about, right? Is this okay?"

Tal first tensed at the contact, then relaxed into it. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself. "First time jitters. It's fine. I'm a high-strung personality. But then again, that's why I'm here." He was babbling, and he realised it. Rather than continue, he nodded at Master Rodger, who opened the door for him.

"Five minutes, and we'll start. You can put your clothes on the chair by the door on the right." It was a solid acknowledgement of Tal's stated preference that he begin the scene already in the nude, and he appreciated it. Master Rodger gave him a once-over, and then corrected: "Make it three; I really don't want you sitting in there fretting a mess."

Tal smiled sheepishly, and went on in.

Four minutes later, he was turned over one comically long thigh, face and torso resting on the edge of the great, black bed, bum in the air.

Not all went so smoothly. Only a few minutes of spanking with some sort of implement (he couldn't see what, but he knew it wasn't a paw) had him flushed and squirming, and not with the response he had most hoped to have. This would have to be rectified. "Excuse me, sir?" he ground out, tense with the sensations and his own pride.

"Yes, kitten?" He stopped what he was doing, keen to listen to whatever it was that had made Dantalion speak up now, when he had been so seemingly reserved.

Tal sighed and shifted against the thick leg that bore him up. "I mean no offense, but this is really… doing more to turn me on than to hurt me." He pinked further in embarrassment, as if the evidence of his cock was not enough to humiliate him. Dantalion was clearly more than a little pent up.

"Already asking for more, eh? Greedy." He ran a single claw up Tal's spine, with just enough pressure to be felt. "I like it."

Tal shuddered at the implication on his skin, and his ears pricked as he heard a rustling noise. The anticipation was almost overwhelming as he waited, breathless, for the dom's next move. He wasn't expecting gentleness.

However, that's exactly what he received; a velveted paw soothed small circles on his arse, coaxing out the too-small sting that had gathered there. Dantalion made a strangled noise between a sigh and a growl, and ground his hips up into the Master's leg.

"You have permission to ask me for 'more' any time you like. Understood, kitten?"

Dantalion twisted his face into the bed until his neck was crooked and only his mouth peeked out. This is torture! Fuck, it can't have even been fifteen minutes yet. "Yes, sir," he sighed, unsure whether either of them had really understood the point of this whole endeavor.

Crack!

Tal arched off the bed, more in shock than pain, though the pain hit him a half-second later, and he welcomed it with a soft moan as he collapsed back down. The moan was cut off with another stroke, followed by three in rapid succession. "Fuck," he hissed, hands scrambling to find purchase on the tight-laid bedsheets.

"Color?"

"Green, sir!" Tal's eyes ghosted closed as another short rain of blows fell with an unrelenting sting that had him panting again in seconds. This time, it was the proper kind of panting; the last thing on his mind was his cock. He spat a few choice swears into the bed, only just managing to 'be good' and stay in place on Master Rodger's knee. Not that he wanted to get away; far from it! But much longer, he knew, and his body would cease to obey him as he gave into the sensation. Tal was a writher.

Seeming to sense this, Master Rodger put a heavy paw between Tal's shoulders, not pushing, but steadying, guiding him back into place. The contact appeared to seep some of the rising tension from Tal's frame, and Master Rodger purred a few words of praise at the quick response.

Tal whimpered lightly at the regard, and was rewarded with a new rhythm of slaps, slow but unceasing and a little heavier than before. His mind began to fog with the first strands of that most pleasant of dizzinesses, and he knew he had to act quickly if he wanted to ask: "Sir, please," he breathed.

"Mn?"

"What in the name of good glorious fuck are you hitting me with?" he asked, voice giddy and a little awestruck. He wasn't gone yet, but he was too far gone to worry about sounding as easy as he truly was, which was a mercy.

Master Rodger chuckled softly, but didn't cease in his work. "Tawse. You said it was a favorite, mn?"

The answer surprised Tal, almost enough to bring him out of his happy place and into a realm more intellectual. Instead, he burst out giggling. He'd never had a tawse used on him over the knee before; it was just impractical for people with an average arm and thigh length to use with any real efficiency. Gods, did Sahar hit the mark with this one.

"Yes, sir," he eventually remembered to reply through the laughter.

"You're making me wonder if I'm hitting you hard enough, there, kitten." The Master's voice was light, but contained a genuine query.

"More please, sir!" Tal chirruped, despite the fact that his tremulous body had already begun to imitate the vibrations of a washing machine on spin.

---------------------------------------------

And now, some fifty minutes later, Dantalion had lost his last thought to the claws of Master Rodger. His back was an utter ruin, stuck to the bedsheets with thick, black ichor. He had been flipped at some point, though he didn't have the presence of mind to remember how long ago. Everything was pain and the way his body gloried in it, trembling between the impulse to flee the aversion, and a hunger for more of the sensation lying beneath.

Every few moments, the former would win out, and, whimpering, he would recoil from the agony of claws ripping at the skin over his ribs. But then would come a hushed, encouraging word from the Master, perhaps a soft kiss to the jaw or a tug of hair, and the battle would shift once more in his favor.

This addling metre went on for some time, each pass pulling Dantalion deeper into the whistling throb of his flesh, a flesh which felt more expansive with each shuddered breath. He was crying in earnest, now, whether or not he realised it, and the ends of his hair were coated in the same blood that soaked the bed. Bloody too were his lips, which he had bitten nearly through in places, struggling to process the sensations happening in his body.

Master Rodger would rouse him to reality occasionally, just long enough to get a color from him (always a confident 'green'), but otherwise, Tal was lost.

Lost until he felt an unexpected sensation amidst the singing of his nerves.

He jerked his head up, and looked down through gummy eyelashes to see a rather intense-looking Master Rodger between his legs, one paw stroking Tal's cock. He hadn't even noticed he was hard again (or, perhaps, still), and wasn't that something? The absurdity of the situation overcame him, and he leveled a thoroughly poleaxed look at the dom, tear-reddened eyes awash with bewilderment at the change in circumstance.

Master Rodger took the reaction in his stride, pausing to soothe at Tal's lower belly, which had been left untouched by the methodical mauling of before. "You're okay, kitten. It's alright. You've done so well for me. I'm going to give you a little reward; does that sound good?"

It would be a lie to say the words didn't go directly to Tal's cock, nearly bypassing his mind altogether, as it was still quite muddled. But he managed to nod and mumble something that must have been an understandable affirmative, for Master Rodger resumed stroking him. (Lost to him for the moment was the fact that this had always been part of their plan; the pawjob wasn't meant to have been a surprise.)

The changeover in sensation was its own kind of violence, disrupting the settled flow of back-and-forth between too much and just enough that had categorised the previous stage of the scene for Dantalion. Now, there was no 'too much'; though the tacky sheets clung to the wounds of his back as if with tar, and his whole torso clamoured at him every time he tensed, none of it compared to the incandescence of a laceration in progress. And the pleasure he now felt was of a totally different stripe, tapping into a need less potent, but which he was still all too eager to have filled.

Speaking of being filled -- When Master Rodger was certain he had navigated the change, he allowed Dantalion a moment of respite while he fiddled around with something off to the side. Tal heard the tell-tale click of a lube pump (for what he now realised must be the second time, though the first had been lost in the fog), and had only a second to prepare before something chilled slicked at his entrance.

He tensed automatically, and before he could loosen again, Master Rodger was on the case. "Shh-shh, relax your body for me. Nice and easy. That's a good kitten." He placed a gentle kiss inside Tal's thigh, and his cock twitched in response, both to the praise and the kiss.

The Master slid a wedged cushion beneath his arse, propping him up for better access. It put a strain on his back and legs, and made him feel even more vulnerable than the restraints themselves. Too, it forced his balance backward onto his upper back, pressing his wounds all the more heavily into the bed.

However, something soon distracted him from all of that. A cool pressure captured his attention as the Master began sliding something into him. He had a silent thought of thanksgiving that the dom had listened and furthermore believed him when he had outlined that he required no preparation; the one-two-three fingers game was aggravating at the best of times for one who controlled the tension and dimensions of his own arsehole, and downright torturous at the worst, when all he wanted was a solid pounding. Now was quickly turning into one of the latter times, so it was especially lovely to just get on with things. (Besides, he was pretty sure that that precise configuration of prep was mostly for bad fanfiction, anyway.)

Master Rodger did seem to be taking his time, though. Dantalion wiggled mutinously, fighting for purchase against his restraints. The wedge kept him too off balance to do anything of use, however. "Please."

The Master resumed his pacifying noises, but also the stroking of Tal's cock, which at least put an end to the squirming. And, soon enough, the toy was inserted to its full length. "Sir, please," Tal huffed, kicking one of his legs down against the bed with the little range of motion he had. The not-quite-burn of the stretch inside him was tantalising, but nowhere near the spark-like bursts of pleasure that would come with active thrusting. He did have to give the Master credit, though; the 'little' reward was not nearly as small as he had implied.

"That's beautiful," Master Rodger reckoned. "Keep begging, kitten. Let me know how much you need it."

"Need it." Tal echoed, still too drunk on himself to look for new words. "Please, sir! Please-please-please." In vain he tried to grind down on the toy, and his failure brought to him a mind-clearing sort of panic. "Fuck, sir, please! Fuck me, I can't--" He cut off with a gasp as the toy was pulled out quickly and rammed home again with force.

And it didn't stop there; the Master set a dazzling rhythm with both toy and paw which immediately had Tal arching his ravaged back. Nor did the begging stop but for the brief moment of the gasp; Dantalion resumed pleading as soon as he caught his breath, babblish and inane though it soon turned. Nor did the panic stop, for now there seemed to him something he needed more than he had needed the toy, something hidden in the glowing heat that built in his lower body.

After a few minutes, that heat coalesced into something real and attainable -- the prize was in reach -- and Tal's begging turned to hoarse moans. Then everything went silent except for the slicking sounds of the Master's ministrations, and Dantalion came white strands upon his own stomach. He held his breath for a few short seconds, then slumped, panting and sated.

Master Rodger trilled his approval in soft, sweet words, and removed the toy. Still (and his eye took on an evil gleam), he had no plan to stop stroking Tal's cock. A fact which Tal realised all too quickly, as the sensations morphed from pleasure to acute aversion. "Oh, no," he murmured.

"Oh, yes, kitten," the Master replied lightly. "Hang on tight."

"Oh, no." He was already so wrung out! What did this fucker expect from him?! "Fuck-- No, no, no, no, no!" Tal writhed, trying in earnest to escape the Master's hands, both of which were working him with a fervor. The tears were back in an instant as he thrashed about, seeking relief. He twisted his face into the side of his arm and bit deeply -- anything to distract from the shock of overstimulation.

"Color!" Master Rodger demanded.

It took about five seconds for Dantalion to wage the war on himself, to persuade himself to accept what it was he truly wanted in this moment. "Gree-hee-heen!" he then sobbed, stripped of the pretense that this was anything other than exactly what he had asked for and needed. The admission hurt nearly as much as, or perhaps more than, the electric sensation between his legs. His pride was broken as he lay keening and twisting atop the bed.

But, as all things do, it eventually ended. There was a sensory stillness in the aftermath that couldn't be stirred even by the damage to his torso; it was as if thick cotton had been shoved into the ears of his skin. He vaguely noted that the Master was speaking to him in a kind and mellow voice as he undid the restraints and massaged at the corresponding joints. What words were said, he did not perceive and likely couldn't comprehend if he did.

However, he knew that he had explained as much in their orientation. There was no harm now in drifting. He gave a casual thumbs up, turned onto his side, and curled into the fetal position -- where he stayed for nearly half an hour. Everything was so soft in this place, so fuzzy and self-contained. It couldn’t even be called a ‘happy place’, because happiness required more awareness than Tal could currently muster, or would desire to. But it was peaceful, and that was all he had truly wanted.

Eventually he did get up, though. As his sensory processing came back up to snuff, he was more inclined to move, to speak, to listen. For a while, Master Rodger held him, and they chatted about the ups and downs of the scene while drinking water. When they were both sure of Tal's steadiness, the Master helped dress his wounds, at least insofar as they really required it. Just something to keep the blood in until they healed of their own accord. Tal gave it two days. Four, max, for a couple of the nastiest ones.

When all was said and done, Dantalion returned to his office feeling like a new demon. Now he could really concentrate on work. But first he would have to order three very special gift baskets: one for Master Rodger, one for Asmodeus, and (the reason he would be ordering them himself and not delegating,) one especially nice one for Sahar.

#tales from the library #sahar #master rodger #(not sure why i'm tagging for him but who knows.)#(he MIGHT come back)

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