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seriiousgiirl · 1 year

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Sweet Juice

Severus Snape x Alumni!reader.

NFSW! Basically (fluffy) smut with a massive plot. //! Incorrect use of Potions.

Severus is 30 years old in this fic, you are 23, minor age gap.

Summary: Ever since your youth, you were passionate about the art of Potions. Luckily, during your time at Hogwarts, you found a mentor in the strict and cold Professor Snape. Having made a habit of spending hours after class talking to him, all of this came to an abrupt end during your final year. Leaving you in a total mystery, with no answers. It was only years later that you took your revenge, in the hope of moving on. Not suspecting that it would bring you face to face with your deepest desires.

A/N: I admit I could have turned this into a multi-chapter fanfic, but I figured that would break the rhythm, so enjoy this long read! This fic is inspired by ‘Sweet Juice’ by Purple Kiss, go stream it for a better life! Trust me (;

Word count: 14k. (hehe)

"Ah- Miss Y/f/n, please accept this price. It is an honour to be able to reward young talents like yourself." The little cup was hurriedly placed in your hands.

"It is an honour to be awarded with this prestigious prize," You politely thanked the crowd.

Your eyes lingered on the name of the prize, ‘Research & Development, winner of the best potion of the year'. And without even realising it, your lips drew a somewhat smug smile. Standing upright, ready to have your photo done, to appear in the next edition of the Daily Prophet, with pride, you held the cup in your hands. In that busy room, you were the youngest. And yet, you are the one who has been praised for your achievements. Earning jealous glares from the potion makers, who coveted it as much as you did.

"Miss, can you tell us more about your potion, how did you get the idea?" You were asked, for what you guessed was now an actual interview.

"I wanted to be able to help the Wizards and Witches to unwind more easily, it is sometimes difficult to let go of work pressure and its boredom. That is why I decided to study Amortentia, and its derivations, in order to create a potion capable of releasing in us the hormones necessary to enjoy ourselves... Without the negative effects of the ancient Potions." You explained, in the simplest way possible to the journalists.

"So it's a potion that gets you aroused?" One adds.

You frowned, a little offended by this shortcut, "Yes, in theory, but it goes deeper than that. Otherwise, I wouldn't be rewarded today. But if you want to know, you have to taste it... All the reviews have been very positive." You commented, with a wink.

To summarise months, almost a whole year of research, is almost an insult to your work. Amortentia is one of the most dangerous potions. Studying it to the point of understanding its mechanism and removing the obsession it causes, was the greatest achievement of the process. The rest was just a series of experiments, an understanding of the human body and its hormones, and it was done.

The result was prodigious, it brought a sense of relaxation, without the risk of an eternal sleep like the Draught of Peace. Comfort and love, without the risk of being manipulated by an evil liquid. And then, depending on the quantity used, the effects could be more or less intense, but never dangerous. Quite remarkable, considering all the side effects that most Potions could provide.

You deserve your reward tonight for many reasons, no one else has been able to do it in the past.

“Have you always held an interest in the subject?" The interview proceeded, to have some content for the beloved magazine.

"Yes, since my school days at Hogwarts. I quickly found a vocation in the subject, expressing my talents at an early age.” You paused, before continuing, "But it would never have been possible without the support of my teacher and mentor, Severus Snape, who taught me everything. His talent is second to none, and next to it, I am nobody, even after tonight." You humbly added, with another smile.

At the end of this sentence, your eyes searched for a certain dark silhouette.

Unlike earlier, that smile was particularly forced on your lips. To say that he had supported you was a fine lie. While at first he was indeed ‘supporting’ you (more like a tolerating you), graciously accepting you to attend his prestigious private Potion club, the entirety of your last year was a failure.

In your first years, you never had to face his wrath and nasty comments, simply because he couldn't blame you for anything. Your work was perfect, from theory to application. But to him, you were nothing.

With time, and your growing skills, things changed. There was a time when you even assumed that an understanding had developed between the two of you, you were not friends, it was impossible with such a man, but it wasn’t nothing either. Eventually, the discussions after class or the club, sharing theories and experiences, became quite regular. Sometimes up to dinner hour, and even after curfew, the time went by so quickly in these periods, as neither of you paid attention, caught up in the interaction. After all, the discussions were very entertaining, between two Potions enthusiasts, and you gained a lot of knowledge from them.

Perhaps because you had succeeded to raise his esteem for you, Professor Snape, during class, would give you one of his infrequent compliments on your methods, or provide you with advice while experiencing in the club. Over time, you came to really treasure this exclusive ‘bond’, with such a cold and distant person. It would be a lie to say that in every class, your shared private discussions weren't the moment you were most looking forward to. You felt special.

You couldn't remember exactly when or how this routine started, it had developed naturally during the end of your fifth year and lasted all the way through to the sixth. However, you could remember bitterly how it had ended.

By the start of your final year at Hogwarts, a cold shoulder from Professor Snape had begun to creep between the two of you. He no longer commented on your work, or even dared to give you one of his rare compliments. It was simply as if you didn't even exist. This drastic change was particularly noticeable when you tried to revive another discussion after class, only to be rejected. 'I don't have time Miss Y/f/n', 'I've got too much work', 'Go, and revise', these were, obviously, bland excuses.

You had spent time thinking about it, trying to understand this radical change, but nothing could be found. The discussions had never overflowed on personal information, at least on his side, you - You had been more talkative. And again, nothing major, just simple information like your preferences in terms of flowers, cake flavours, and favourite literature. It never looked like it bothered him to listen to you, and yet strangely enough it seemed to interest him. But, in the end, most of the talk was about Potions, nothing odd that should have ended it all brutally.

In the course of your discussions, you had always expressed an interest in a career in the field, and Professor Snape had consequently supported you (in his own way) in this idea. In all honesty, having his approval really encouraged you. Until, once again, your senior year. While you had been able to get decent, if not perfect, results up to this point, the downfall continued when you saw your grades drop for unfair reasons. You had never witnessed his unfair grading, but when you became one of his victims, he was unforgiving towards your harmless mistakes. It was as if he was trying to ruin your future career as a potion maker.

All this unjustified hatred, discouraged you, but not to the point of giving up your aspiration, otherwise you wouldn't be standing there with the precious prize in your hands.

Was it some kind of revenge? Definitely.

Mentioning Severus in your ‘thank you speech’ was perfectly legitimate, he had given you more than anyone else in your life. But, even though you kept telling yourself that it was already 3 years ago and it belonged to the past, your heart was still broken, disappointed. And by his presence tonight, you were hoping to finally put an end to it all. Snape had witnessed your happiness, you had won, the revenge was completed. Time to move on.

However, it was easier to convince yourself than to apply it. It would be wrong to claim that you hadn't worked hard to impress him. Ever since that cold war between you two, no matter how strange it may seem, you couldn't get over it.

Sometimes, in your most private moments, you would close your eyes in the hope of being able to remember. The damp smell of the dungeons invading your nostrils, your teacher's deep voice echoing within the cold walls to your ears, praising you how well you had worked. His dark eyes focused on you, and only you. In fact, the intensity of his dark gaze could suffocate you, and yet you would not care. You desperately wanted to reclaim that relationship, as someone to whom he would give his precious time, where he would share his passions anew, a time when in his mind you existed and were important. And no matter how embarrassing it was, the idea of finding pleasure in these memories was enough to make your knickers wet.

At the time, you had convinced yourself that you were not holding any affection regarding your Professor… Another fine lie from you, obviously. It had taken a few years to come to this conclusion, to get out of the denial of this forbidden love. But now it was clear and explained a lot concerning your addiction and pain. The feeling of anticipation at the end of each lesson, the way you would pour your soul into the subject in the hope of receiving a ‘compliment’... Or simply the way you kept seeking for his attention, even after years. Nothing about this behaviour was appropriate, regardless how hard you tried to maintain the classic student-teacher relationship, on your own.

Perhaps Snape had even realised this, explaining the sudden cessation of your individual time together.

And even though, with hindsight, you should have felt guilty, you couldn't throw away that attachment. It was as if he had put a spell on you, that the lack of contact with him since you graduated from Hogwarts had reinforced that love.

But today was different, it was your revenge, your mourning over this period of your life.

The sound of the camera flashes snapped you out of your thoughts. The lights blinded your eyes for a moment, and you blinked frantically to regain your sight. Hoping that the pictures would look nice on the magazine...

"Well, congratulations Miss Y/f/n, we hope to see your Potion soon on the market amongst our merchants. I can’t wait to taste it, as you have suggested." The interview ended on this note, and the journalists dismissed themselves to make room for those who wished to thank you or congratulate you in person.

Thus, you were greeted with a new wave of questions, of praises, mostly it was older wizards and witches who were attending the event, and thus more 'experienced' than you in Potions. Their words tasted like hypocrisy, but you accepted everything with a polite smile. You actually enjoyed the attention, although deep down it was a particular Potions Master you were looking for, so it all went over your head. After a few moments you managed to escape from the conversation that had been built around the right to use the Felix Felixis at the Ministry's work, to get yourself a glass of alcohol from the buffet.

The taste of alcohol eased your nerves, rejoicing in the moment of calm you just gave yourself after all the attention you received. But the moment was short.

“Miss Y/f/n. How fortuitous to find you here." A voice commented sarcastically on your presence at the bar.

There was no need to look up at the person speaking to you because you already knew who he was. His deep voice was like a melody, a music composed by the finest musicians of this world. How, Merlin, you truly missed it…

“Professor Snape- Hum, or should I say Severus now that we are colleagues?” You answered him a little too smoothly for your taste, One drink and my anger is already forgotten? I need to get my act together!

“Snape will do, we are not direct colleagues. Let's keep some formality.” He replied somewhat distantly. Ouch- Years did not seem to have quieted the hatred he had against you.

You had not yet looked up to him, postponing the moment when you would be blessed with his physical presence. But you could see from the corner of your eye that he was pouring himself a shot glass of what seemed to be a fire whiskey.

"I must say that I am surprised that the award was given to you tonight... However, it would be wrong not to congratulate you." Severus began slowly, as if preventing himself from saying too much. “But…”

“But?” Your voice cut him off, a mixture of excitement and sheer joy at the thought of receiving praise from your dear Professor. This special praise you had been longing for.

"But-” He sighed as if you had annoyed him, “I object to the fact that my teachings have led you to produce such a grotesque Potion."

If your eyes had been glued to your glass since the beginning of the conversation fearing to feel butterflies in your stomach at the sight of Severus, you suddenly raised them, eyes wide with surprise. And in your stomach, anger. How dare he humiliate my work like that?

However, you were at a loss for words. He hadn't changed at all, he hadn't even made the effort to wear another suit for the event. He remained the same man as when you left him. Your eyes fell on his face, he had a neutral expression, as if his hurtful words were the most well-deserved ones. His eyes were on you, but because of the dim light and his dark pupils it was impossible for you to discern any judgement within. Otherwise, his hair was still the same length, falling gently over his shoulders, soft… His hooked nose made him look sterner than ever, and the crease between his over-frowned eyebrows did not seem to have increased.

He was still the same man, the one you were so fond of, and that made it more difficult.

But it was as if you two had evolved in two different time spaces. It had only been two years since you left Hogwarts, and it was certain that the occasional times you ran into a former classmate, they all had trouble recognising you. Obviously, you have grown in maturity through your work. You were no longer a young girl, you were a woman, a lady, with stature and respect. You were even certain that if your name wasn't mentioned at your prize-giving, Severus wouldn't have known who you are.

"A grotesque potion?” You took back his words, insulted, “You know perfectly well all the work that lies behind it. I explained it in a briefing for the association. You must have read it, right?" You tried to hide the irritation in your voice.

"I read it, of course. And although I must admit that it was all a tremendous amount of hard work... All these efforts, for such a clownish result, is disappointing."

You couldn't help but stare at him in disbelief. You were supposed to be the one to get your revenge tonight. And here you are, in the shoes of the student you used to be in your last year, being jeered for your hard work. His words were harsh, and perhaps because they came from your professor, they hurt you badly.

"The mere fact that I am the one who taught you everything is even more terrible." He added nonchalantly, bringing his glass to his lips.

You remained quiet, thinking of all the things you could say to him. After all, he was no longer your instructor, Severus no longer had superiority over you. What can he do now, if I snapped at him? Expel me from Hogwarts? Perhaps, it was the moment for you to confess everything that was weighing on your heart. How his coldness and distance had made you miserable.

"I thought it was only fair to thank you in my speech." You retorted, "But as far as I can see, you don't even want to be associated with me anymore, even as a mere tutor. Your hatred of me, I don't know where it comes from, but it's all unfair. This was supposed to be my special night. But now you've ruined it.” You hesitated before speaking again, “Like you’ve ruined my seventh year at Hogwarts."

Severus’ face remained as neutral as ever, but in his posture you felt a kind of irritation, he was caught off guard by your curt reply. Well, he must understand that I won't take his nastiness easily anymore.

However, you took no pleasure in giving him this answer. You had imagined many scenarios about your reunion... You had hoped that he would apologise, show that he felt sorry for having been cold to you, and in the more realistic scenario simply shake your hand, congratulate you and that was it. In no way, had you expected that he would remain so hostile.

A heavy silence fell between the two of you. His lack of response bothered you further, so you grabbed your glass and finished it straight down. "I'm going to get some air, if anyone is looking for me." Your voice was less angry, as your throat tightened dangerously, poised to burst into tears and it was slightly audible. It was a disaster.

You took your trophy with great care, the only thing that gave you comfort, and left without even bowing to Severus. You were never going to see him again in your life anyway.

The evening of the association for Potions makers of Great Britain (or simply those with an interest for the discipline), was held in the large manor house of the current Chairman. After escaping from the hall where the main event was taking place, you looked for a way out to the garden. Your heels clicked on the marble floor, echoing in the various empty corridors. The laughter and voices of the party began to fade with each step you took.

You were getting away from these jealous and condescending people and above all, from Severus. Good, you didn't feel like crying miserably in front of everyone. Your hopes were already destroyed, your ego wasn't going to be the next crime. After a moment, you spotted a windowed door leading to the backyard and quickly rushed to open it, taking a deep breath of air in desperation.

Stepping out completely, you were pleasantly surprised to discover the lovely atmosphere. The garden was well tended with bushes of various flowers and the grass was green and healthy, while lanterns lightened the path leading to the depths of the garden. You were caught up in the sense of peace and quiet that it gave you, feeling much more comfortable on your own.

It was summer, late August, school was beginning soon, work was about to restart and the merchants would soon be back in business. But it was already late, the moon was already high in the sky, almost full, and the stars shone brightly in the country sky away from London's city lights. The air was a bit fresh, but cold enough to get your mind back in order without freezing in your evening gown, which was quite revealing… But still elegant and pretty.

Venturing into the garden you finally found a bench to settle down on and think about what just happened, alone. Your eyes lifted to the magnificent starry sky before you, and its darkness made you think of Severus... The way his pupils were fixed on you, the image replayed in your mind... Over and over. You wanted to despise him for his behaviour, he had broken your heart! Not to feed your already distracted mind with lusty thoughts. Did he, at least, appreciate the sight of me in this dress? Your mind began to wander in a dangerous area, and you needed to stop right now.

Severus had been nothing but spiteful, he hadn't changed for sure, whether it was physically or mentally. And yet... You couldn't hate him in the slightest. It all seemed wrong on his part, as if he was forcing himself. Pushing you away.

You sighed, it was truly a disaster, you were frustrated with Severus, with yourself. Tonight was about revenge, moving on was the main mission and now you were fantasising all over again, like the flame of your love had been rekindled.

A tear rolled down your cheek from sheer frustration, disappointment in yourself. Then one tear broke into a silent cry. Were you doomed to love a man you will never see again, who is out of reach and seems to be loathing you? Put like this, it was as if you enjoyed suffering.

Now, you had no desire to return to the house with the other members, the possibility of running into Snape again and worsening your mental state, made you dread the prospect. Great, he had won and definitely broken your heart.

It was decided, you were going to stay there, with your trophy in your arms and with a bit of luck you will be able to leave unnoticed by floo powder. The plan seemed reasonable.

But fate seemed to have decided otherwise.

You jumped when you heard someone cough to get your attention. You were so deep in thought, your eyes fixed on the sky, that you didn't hear anyone approaching you. Your little moment of peace had been ruined, and you frowned as your eyes fell on the culprit. Severus’ brooding silhouette in the darkness of the garden lived up to his Hogwarts reputation as a bat.

You sniffed, "What are you doing here? Go away. You've already hurt me enough, there's no need to make it worse, I heard your nasty comments once already." In your pathetic state you asked Severus rather rudely to leave.

There was a small silence before it was broken by his voice, "Are you crying?"

You couldn't make out his face, so you concluded that he couldn't see yours either. You hesitated between telling the truth or lying before answering, “Why do you care…?” Your voice was weak, in no way hiding the truth.

“I asked you a question, Y/n” He persisted.

Hearing his voice pronounce your first name, as he used to do when you were in private conversation, made you weak in the knees, much more than you would have liked to acknowledge.

"I, hum... Yes." You replied, sobbing quietly. Resistance will only make things worse.

"It's a wonder you've managed to make a respectable place for yourself in the business, with such a weak mind." But unlike earlier his voice was gentler, firm, but gentle. "I've talked a bit with some of your fellow peers, people who have been around you for the past few years. Supporting you in carrying out your work… Believing in this project of yours.” He paused for another moment.

You didn't know what he was getting at, confusion all over your face. The people you had surrounded yourself with for work were not in attendance tonight. They were mostly former students just like yourself, who had attended the advanced Potions class. If they were absent tonight it is because in their research of Potions, unlike you, they had not managed to produce a viable solution.

In the darkness, you discerned him taking his place beside you on the bench. The warmth of his body spreading over your arm, allows you to evaluate how close you were to each other. And the answer was easy, very close. You could smell the light scent of his fragrance, a bit musky, the bare skin of your arm was grazing against the thick fabric of his frock coat, and it was a miracle that he was still able to breathe under all those layers in this warm weather. You noticed that it was the first time he was so close to you, usually he would keep his distance. His desk or the potions station had always been a well-respected barrier between the two of you. And thus, it made you a bit timid.

"Well, talking…” He spoke sarcastically to rectify himself, “I’ve exchanged letters with them. Checking on my former students, those you are working with now. Ensuring that everything was going well for you." He emphasised the last part of his sentence.

And Severus doesn't need to amplify his words, for you to understand what he was implying secretly.

Severus had checked on you, taking news through his letters over the past two years.

Each of his words hit you straight in the heart, making it pound faster each time. You thanked Merlin for the obscurity, because between your tears that must have drenched your makeup and the crimson spreading over your cheeks, the sight must be pretty dramatic.

"Why didn't you send an owl directly to me?" Your voice was still weak, but your tears had ceased. You ran your delicate hand over your cheeks to remove the remaining tears.

You heard Severus sigh quietly at your question. It took him a while to answer, as if he was tortured to answer honestly or lying, hesitating in the same way you did a few moments ago with his question. “It’s complicated.” Severus opted to be vague, "In any case, I've got nothing but praise for your work or even your person... They like you just the same as they did back at Hogwarts."

You didn't know if your mind was playing tricks on you by wanting to romanticise everything, but in his voice there was a faint hint of nostalgia. Severus' note brought a smile to your lips, "I'm glad to hear that, I appreciate them as well. At least they're not hypocrites like everyone else tonight..." Your honesty seemed to catch what sounded like a quiet chuckle from your former Professor.

"I must grant you, Y/n... That my words were harsh against you." Severus' voice regained its usual firm tone, "But I must confess, that such a potion, with such utility, surprises me coming from you."

That was what you guessed, his form of apology, and you accepted the way it was. "It is true that in my youth I never showed any interest in Healing Potions. What interested me the most were Poisons... But Amortentia is a poison like any other, in its own way, and research can lead us to expand our minds, can't they?” The fact that Severus knew perfectly your preferences in the area, made it easier to explain. "And then, with hindsight, I'm proud that my invention helps people, rather than killing them."

Severus nodded quietly, indicating that he fully understood the meaning of your words, as you had hoped he would. He seemed to remember all the information you had told him about yourself three years ago. That made you more than happy.

“‘Sweet juice’, that's how you named it?” He spoke with sarcasm, gently mocking.

It was your turn to sweetly chuckle, “No! I had originally named it 'Aquae dulcis', from the Latin ‘peaceful liquid’... But for the promotion, I was advised to change the name to a more sales-oriented one, which would fit better with my image as a lady.”

"I was wondering why the name doesn't match you… I've got my answer." He sounded somewhat relieved, "Many people have mentioned the taste." Severus sounded less reticent over your Potion, it was even if he was aware of the feedbacks that were provided in order to boost the pre-sales.

"Ah- yes, the taste... That's what gives the potion its reputation for being arousing." You sighed a little embarrassed to talk about this with him, “Unlike many Potions, with a disgusting taste… Mine is sweet. The liquid drips slowly down the throat, the taste hooked up everyone wishing to take it. The feeling is strange to describe, and actually I can’t… Like a flame, it all burns, it all gets on, the throat-burning sensation is taboo.” You added the last part of your sentence in a whisper due to the embarrassing nature of your language. It sounded sexual, you must admit.

Again there was silence and you wished you hadn't said what you revealed about this special taste, fearing that you had gone too far and brought your former teacher into equal discomfort.

But he answered with an unexpected thought, “I’m curious about the experience.” You caught your breath surprised, not even realising that you had stopped for a moment out of fear, "No potions so far have managed to ease my nerves. The Draught of Peace made me feel like I was too tired to continue working properly, so I stopped years ago. And if there's one time when I'm extremely irritable, it's at work, or when I'm grading papers… Especially when I grade the papers.” It was as if Severus was 'justifying' himself for wishing to try it. But deep down, some peace would only do him good.

"Only a few drops then, otherwise you'll regret the tiredness you got from the Draught of Peace when you'll feel aroused during your teaching." Even yourself was surprised by the bold words you used.

Thankfully Severus took less time to answer than last time, "Of course. I'll be careful. I'll give you a personal feedback on my impressions over the next few days following the start of term."

"Send the owl directly to me this time, it would be unfortunate if anyone found out you had an 'uncomfortable issue' because of my Potion." You laughed softly, clearly more comfortable around him. You were both adults now, fellow colleagues in the Potions discipline, you have the right to tease him about the unwanted side effects.

Well, unwanted for Severus’ case. You knew that many were looking forward to taking bigger doses... Precisely to get horny.

“I will Y/n,” He answered in a tone that seemed to be almost as amused.

“So… You want it, you want some Sweet Juice?” You ask him, hardly believing that you were asking Severus Snape, your cold former professor, if he wanted a stash of your own (arousing) Potion.

"If you don't mind, as it will only be sold on the mid-September market, if I understand correctly. I will, of course, pay for anything you may want to send me." He firmly says,

You shook your head sharply, "Absolutely not, I'll send you these for free as a thank-you. And before school starts, so everything will be ready for you to face those annoying and incompetent first years."

Severus sighs, a mixture of exasperation and relief. Exasperation because you were strict about him not paying you for anything, relief at the idea of finally having a solution to calm his tense nerves. “Stubborn as ever, I see. You may have changed physically, mentally you’re still the same.”

His little statement had the power to make your cheeks even more flushed. So he noticed that I had changed… That I’m now a lady. “Thank you, I guess?” You had no idea how to reply to that.

"That's a compliment.” He clarified for you, “You are, indeed, now… Excuse my choice of words- a pretty woman. But besides your appearance, you are blossoming in what you always dreamed of, with a remarkable career start. It's a good thing you've kept parts of yourself intact, fame must not go to your head. But you are a reasonable lady, I know everything will be fine." It was Severus' turn to be a bit awkward with his words.

His compliment went straight to your heart and seemed to soothe all the pain you had felt over the last few years. However, in his tone, Severus sounded as if he wanted to keep his words strictly formal, as he had always done even in your deepest discussions in the past.

"Thank you Severu- Hm, Snape.” You hated how easy it was for you to say his first name, when he had just corrected you a few moments before. However, he didn't correct you this time, letting that minor error slide.

You indulged in the peaceful silence that settled between the two of you. The way the conversation had progressed was comparable to the ones you had in the past, if not more comfortable. Two enthusiasts discussing about their favourite subject, trying to understand each other's opinion with respect and interest. Obviously, a formal one, Severus always maintains his distance from you, as if he was always your Professor and couldn't afford to be more. Your hopes were not high on a potential romance with Severus, he was older, your former teacher, mysterious… In the end you know nothing about the man and his job was keeping him busy all year long. However, a friend would be a good start… A rather affordable hope.

In the end, when Severus opted not to act cold, it was as if there hadn't been a rupture in your relationship. The chemistry had returned back in a flash. It made you bitterly regret those three lost years... Besides, you still had no idea of the exact nature of his past harsh attitude. Maybe even tonight was just an exception and the question will never be answered.

However, if Severus ever decided, as he had suggested with his impressions, to exchange letters, perhaps with time you would find the courage to ask him. Now, it would be a bad idea and would ruin the calm atmosphere.

"Maybe it's time to get back to the party..." Severus offered, his voice not exactly enthusiastic about joining the festivities again as well, "The others will wonder when they notice our absence."

“Right, It would be unfortunate if they started to wonder about our connection..." You laughed lightly, mocking his constant worry about being paired with you. Severus huffed, outraged.

He stood up, and in the half-light you saw him offering his arm to you, like a gentleman. You took it without hesitation, linking yours to his.

"It's been pleasing tonight…” You spoke quietly, as Severus escorted you back into the manor.

He inhaled shakily before answering, "Yes, I agree. And hearing from you, - personally - is always preferable. I hope this will last in your future letters."

You smiled at his words, "Obviously, Severus." There was a deep fondness evident in your voice. This time you couldn't help it, saying his first name felt right, and he didn't correct you either.

The October leaves had just fallen, the soft light with its morning rays of sunshine was reaching into your office. The scenery was quiet, peaceful even. And even though you had no reason to be in your office this early, you were waiting for a special occurrence.

Sweet Juice' had been on the market for almost a month, at various shops in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley, and sales were more than encouraging. In fact, it was a real success. Some minor stock-outs caused even a panic among the sellers when they couldn't satisfy their demanding customers. Everyone was talking about the benefits of your Potion, and how it changed their life.

The money you received was considerable, allowing you to take a break. After two years of hard work, you deserved it. And a new solution cannot be invented that easily anyway. So your days were pretty uneventful, sometimes you were occupied with checking in with the producer, the one you had trusted enough to share the secrets of your mixture, and the sales. Otherwise, most of your days were spent taking care of yourself, enjoying life and, above all, waiting for Severus' letters.

Currently in your hands, the last letter you received, already dated from the previous week. The other letters, which numbered five, were neatly folded and kept in the first drawer of your desk. Severus' handwriting was as elegant and delicate as ever, and you took great comfort in receiving them. The content was kept formal, but somewhat ‘casual’ or ‘friendly’. Which was a good development.

The letters were quite brief and mostly structured the same way. Severus would write about his thoughts on Potions, then about his days at Hogwarts, and finally he would reply directly to the contents of the letter he had just received, making his comments on your daily life.

In each of his answers, you could tell that he was making the effort to maintain the relationship despite the distance. When the first correspondence started, you were quite surprised to see his owl on your windowsill within less than a week. You were pleasantly surprised, expecting to receive a response within a relatively long delay. To be honest, you weren't expecting this much from him, because you know how occupied he is.

Your eyes lingered on the contents of the one you held in your hands.

Dear Y/n,

Thank you for the new batch of Potions you have sent me.

I would like to use it sparingly, addiction would be regrettable. So I take precautions, even though the peaceful effect it brings me is always efficient. Being able to sleep properly is, I must confess, a luxury I had not enjoyed until recently. And it's all thanks to you.

I would say my days at Hogwarts are bearable. Work is draining, as always.

I hadn’t found a moment to read the book you recommended. I will try to make up for it before my next answer.

However, I am glad to hear that you are taking the time to have a break. Don't worry if the days can be boring, and you miss work, you need it. Do not become like me, please.

Yours faithfully,

Severus Snape,

You had lost count, you must have read the contents of the letter ten times already. In fact, every letter you received from Severus was read more than once. It was a forbidden pleasure, but seeing his words specifically directed at you, gives you butterflies in your insides.

But, you put your mind at rest with the fact that they were just letters and nothing more. It was less severe than when you were seeing him daily, in your student days. It was impossible for Severus to even guess the depth of your feelings towards him, when the only contact the two of you had was a piece of paper and a few words. You weren't likely to offend him or make him feel uneasy with your feelings towards him. So you were living your affection for this man to the fullest in the privacy of your own home.

Leaning back in your desk chair, while your mind wandered over Hogwarts’ dungeon bat, you heard a tiny clatter against your window. Looking up, a sweet smile came to your lips. Your hands folded the current letter you were reading, folding it carefully and storing it away before standing up to retrieve the new one you had been expecting.

Severus' owl was just like him, black plumage, piercing eyes. The only thing they did not have in common was their sweetness. When you opened your window, you were immediately greeted by a warm hooting.

“Hey, I hope the journey wasn't too long.” Your voice was almost too mellow for just an owl, and your hand gently stroked the top of its head as you greeted back. With a smile, you carefully untied the letter from its grasp. Once done, you put the envelope on your desk and collected grains to feed the owl. The owl pecked into the palm of your hand, now used to this small ritual. A hoot of gratitude indicated that the mission was accomplished.

"Return safely to Hogwarts." With a last small pat, you gazed at the black owl as it flew off into the distance, back to its owner.

Returning to your desk, you opened the envelope carefully and unfolded it. You were surprised to see that the content was longer than usual, twice as long. You didn't remember that your previous answer was that interesting to deserve such a detailed reply... Thus, you hurried to read it.

Dear Y/n,

I fear I haven't kept my promise.

I think I underestimated the side effects of your Potion, and this past week I've ‘suffered’ the consequences. A few drops was the dose I set myself to respect every night before going to bed, following your advice and the instructions for its use. Alas, after a particularly difficult day, I wanted to experiment with a higher dosage. I don't need to tell you in detail what it did to me, I think you've already guessed…

But I must, at least, keep our initial agreement, so if you don't object I will give you a report on this new experience. For the sake of the profession.

The usual few drops prevented me from being able to experience in its fullest, the unique taste of the potion's effects. And I must say congratulations, never in my life have I tasted anything so sweet. The description you gave me a few months ago has stayed in my mind since, and I must say that you were right, nothing can describe how it feels. Heaven? Maybe. On that night, I reached heaven.

I was starving, I was out of control (or so I thought). I was almost unable to bear it, and then, it was time to awaken the sleeping madness in me...

The hardest part is, I can't blame the Potion. It's almost cruel, but as you said, unlike with Amortentia, I had full power over my body, I wasn't intoxicated or bewitched. I succumbed to my impulses on my own. And… It feels good.

This followed, of my own accord, a kind of addiction. The nights prior to this uneventful ‘accident’ I made a habit of taking these larger doses, for my own pleasure… Thus, I would conclude the entire experience to be more than enjoyable.

In the future, I will try to find a balance to avoid abusing what is more than good. For the time being, I'm still enjoying myself.

However, even if your potion is a miracle, it does not take away all the work I need to complete.

And I must say, a thought came to my mind. In fact, Dumbledore was the one who suggested it to me years ago. And even if I was reluctant to the idea at first... The prospect feels less unpleasant if you are the one taking on this duty.

Not wishing to interfere with your precious break, would you like to be my occasional assistant?

You have the right to refuse, I wouldn't blame you.

If the answer is positive, the first period I would wish to ask for your help would be mid-November, before the first exams. And that's for a few weeks, maybe for two, more or less.

Naturally, you'll be welcomed at Hogwarts with all the necessities, a private chamber and a paycheck. But I'll give you the details in due time.

In any case, I will respect your decision and will look forward to receiving your answer, as I always do.

Yours faithfully,

Severus Snape,

PS: I trust you to keep this information confidential.

Your eyes frantically scan the contents of the letter, there is a lot to take in. Your cheeks were flushed, your heart was pounding, the first major piece of information was that Severus was using your potion for his own sexual needs. And while you detected some reserve in his wording, he had admitted it without shame in that letter. You would never have thought Severus capable of speaking in such a way (at least, towards you), even if his words were formal, they were nonetheless heavy with meaning and bold.

You couldn't help it, your mind perfectly pictured Severus. At night, alone, under the pleasurable effect of the Potion. In your fantasy, his face was focused, his eyebrows a bit furrowed, some sweat rolling down his forehead because of the heat. A few strands of his hair would fall into his eyes, but his attention was so focused on the intense pleasure he was experiencing that he couldn't care less. Was he the type to moan? Or to remain silent? Or… Maybe the cravings were so powerful that he would bite his lip to keep quiet.

At first, his hands would temptingly wander down his body, slowly, carefully, intoxicated by the rising pleasure. Touching himself was a pleasant torture, and as he said himself in the letter, he was unable to stop. Knowing how the potion would affect his senses, his skin must feel sensitive, leaving burning trails with every brush of his fingers over every inch of his skin, over all erogenous parts of his body, making him lose his mind.

The way Severus’ hands would desperately clutched his already erected manhood, dripping precum with impatience, hoping to reach an orgasm, maybe even one or several. Seeking frantically for friction to satiate his craving, his hips bucked, his hand tightening to increase the contact pressure. The sight must be sumptuous.

You wondered, for a moment, about the thoughts Severus might have to stimulate his mind. Was the Potion working enough to turn him on? Or was he seeking greater satisfaction with some dirty images? This left you with a real question. And you realised that even after all this time, you knew many things about him, but not at all in such an intimate setting. Which made sense, since most of the time you were his student... The first glimpse you had of this point was the letter.

And, you're the only one who knows his nightly routine. He trusted you, beyond the fact that you were the creator of the Potion who helped him satisfy his lusts. The mere idea to be in the confidence of this secret, made your knickers wet.

And even though it was already a lot to process, this was not the only exciting news. Severus asked you, himself, to be his assistant. He even suggested it, because the idea of working with you sounded appealing. You. Of all people, he thought about you.

You didn't question it, it was decided the moment the information reached your brain. You were going to accept. And how could you turn down the offer when the mysterious and reserved Severus Snape admitted on his own, that he was eagerly expecting your letters…

After years of longing to feel that special feeling again, in one letter Severus had given you a lot.

Returning to Hogwarts was a hope you never thought imaginable. However, a week ago you arrived with a suitcase packed, ready to work. The stone corridors, the moving stairs and even the staff had remained the same. The only change was that instead of sitting at your house table for dinner, you were now placed between Flitwick and Snape. And of course, that most of your time was spent in the dark, damp dungeons of the School brewing Potions, or grading papers.

Unlike what many might think, working alongside Severus was much more manageable than they might have thought. In any case, with you, he trusted your work enough not to question it. In fact, when you arrived, you were quite worried when you saw the dark circles under his eyes, which were more prominent than you used to remember. And when you became his assistant, you understood why. Severus was a perfectionist, and his teaching methods were all tailored to ensure the success of his students. So your tasks were simple, like preparing the exams, the basics for the Potions that were going to be taught, correcting papers, arranging the ingredients... And while you were just assisting him, within a few days he had managed to find more rest. Something that made you feel better.

Apart from that, the working conditions were quiet and calm. Severus was conversing with you during the simplest of tasks, he didn't seem as tight as usual (in private, at least), what you guessed were the effects of your Potion. At times, it was simply work performed in a comfortable silence. But between you, there was no longer any sign of discomfort or coldness. It was as if it had never happened, actually.

Well, until today.

"I wonder..." Severus began his sentence thoughtfully, his eyes focused on the cauldron in front of him, his hands busy chopping up ingredients, "How I used to find time to work and talk to you, back then."

You had a similar task, but unlike him you looked up in surprise. Severus rarely mentioned the past between you, or even the letters you had exchanged the past month. "I don't know either... That's why you stopped in my seventh grade, right?"

You didn't particularly want to mention the subject that had become nearly forbidden with time, namely your cold war. But you felt that under the current circumstances, you were old and mature enough to take it on yourself. Even though you might never get any solid answers about his past behaviour.

“Y/n, we both know that’s not the truth.”

Your eyes were still fixed on him, and you didn't know if Severus was too focused on his Potion to realise the implication of his words, or if he really wanted to discuss the issue once and for all. But you weren't going to miss your chance, trying to summon all your courage. "Oh- Really? Those are the excuses you gave me, would you like to tell me the truth then?" You answered casually, trying to play it cool despite your racing heart. Years of seeking the answer, it was as if what haunted you most was finally going to be removed.

However, the answer did not come as easily as the conversation had started, Severus stopped in his tracks and raised his head to you. His expression was hesitant, or perplexed, you didn't really know. "It was best for us to stop there, that's the real reason." He replies vaguely, his eyes fixed on your face where you stand across the Potion station.

You frowned, you were an adult now, you could handle and accept the truth. Severus, on the other hand, was being vague, as if putting a finger on what had happened was forbidden. "Are you implying that in our professional discussions, we were going down the wrong path?" You didn't want to tempt him, but getting the truth out of Severus' mouth was more complicated than you expected.

"Our discussions were nothing professional." He sounded a bit irritated with himself, indeed, the subject was sensitive on both sides. He put a lid on his Potion and dried his hands with a cloth, "We're done for the day, you can leave me." He waved you off, putting an end to the conversation.

But you stayed in your place, it was as if your feet were frozen to the ground, you couldn't leave. "You are the one who started the conversation. Don't be angry with me." Your voice was quite composed, you weren't afraid to face him. And just like at the event, he seemed stunned by your tone of voice.

You put the tools down and placed a lid on the Potion in the same way he had just done. "You cannot cut off the discussion and asked me to leave, Severus. You don't know how I've suffered my entire last year because of this, because of you. You can at least look me in the eye and give me a proper answer.” You sighed, as he tried to keep his eyes from looking at you. Perhaps because of guilt.

"Severus, we can sort this out, and go back to the way things were. But I need an answer, to move on. To be free of this guilt. Did I do something wrong? Was I bothering you so much? Tell me…" You hated how your voice was almost begging. But with every word you said, you could feel it, it was like he was re-building that distance between you. You didn't want to lose him, not that quickly.

"Severus... Please." You finally decided to move, taking a step towards him, the atmosphere in the classroom had totally changed. But even if the tension was heavy, you weren't going to abandon him, not this time. He did not move as you approached him, however, his face was tense. You hadn't seen him this cold in a while.

"I can't answer you. Things wouldn't be the same after that.” His voice was harsh, but not offensive. He sounded frustrated with himself, “But… If you want an answer, I must admit I'm not sufficiently secure to reveal my past intentions."

His words were odd, leaving you confused. The enigma that was Severus Snape was impossible to understand no matter how much time you were spending by his side. Can he give me an answer or not?

Several times your mouth opened in an attempt to answer, but nothing came to your mind. The problem seemed to be stuck. It left you upset. "I... I want an answer." Your words were both hesitant and confident, the statement was, frankly, a bit silly.

This seemed to amuse Severus, who laughed silently in mockery, warming the atmosphere. “Why are you so…” He paused for a moment as if hesitating, then at last he gave in, "Endearing?”

His words slammed into your heart, leaving you baffled. But you didn't have time to answer, Severus resumed speaking just as soon, "But, if I can manage to calm myself, maybe I'll be able to talk to you. Does that please you, Y/n?"

You hesitated, understanding what Severus was implying behind those words, 'relaxing' meant taking a few drops of Sweet Juice. And as much as you wanted to keep a respectful image of Severus, the last words written in his letter about its use stayed in the back of your mind. But, how can I refuse?

"Fine.” You agreed, nodding slowly.

Severus seemed somewhat reassured by your agreement, the walls he was starting to build around himself to push you away, were falling down again. It was his turn to approach you, offering his arm. A habit he'd adopted with every walk you shared at Hogwarts. You took his arm, the gesture had become natural, Severus added, "Follow me."

With that, you walked after him. Severus led you, in the utmost silence. Your heart was pounding, you didn't know exactly what to expect. The path he was taking, staying in the dungeons of the school, made you realise that he was inviting you into his personal quarters, which did not help your state of mind. Every step you made, was a step towards the possible truth.

Your recent exchange had been unclear, Severus was just as confused by his attitude as you were, you could tell with the look on his face. Torture between two separate decisions: to hate you back or accept what was happening between you two.

Still in silence, Severus finally arrived, unlocked the door to his quarters and let you in first. It was the first time you had entered, and the surroundings seemed oddly familiar. Everything reflected Severus, with its dark tones and simple, yet elegant furnishings. Your eyes rest on the many books, all meticulously arranged, and then, a little farther away, on the bed. It was impossible to miss the three vials filled with the purple liquid that you had conceived yourself, one of them was nearly empty. The sight of Sweet Juice beside his bed only made your heart flutter, as if it was confirmation that everything he had described to you was, indeed, true.

"Well, sit on the sofa. I'm coming up with what's needed." Severus breaks the silence as he removes his cloak, stopping your dirty thoughts dead in their tracks.

"Yes, of course." You nodded, quite flustered, and you did what you were asked as you sat down on the couch, next to the fireplace and the bookcases. Your eyes followed Severus' actions as he made his way to his bed, lighting the fireplace with his wand as he passed.

He came back with a new bottle of Sweet Juice in his hands, and sat without discomfort at your side. "Do you use it daily as well?" He asked you, an undeniable curiosity in his voice.

"Um... No, I just tested it on myself a while ago before I submitted the notice. I have no use for it." You looked at him blankly, you didn't know what Severus was trying to find out with his question, "So, it was only for professional purposes." You added rather quickly, in case he wondered if you too were finding sexual satisfaction through its use.

"Well, this will be the occasion to taste it again then." His hands opened the bottle carefully, and with some skill showing how familiar he was with its use.

You looked at him, confused by his words, "I don't intend to take it, you said you were the one who needed it to speak honestly."

"I think it's wiser for you to take it, to learn the truth. I don't want you to get mad at me." He replied with his calm voice, "Don't you trust me?" He raised an eyebrow with his usual expertise in the motion.

Of course you trusted him, the question didn't have to be asked. And right now, with all the tension in your body from the pressure of the whole situation, you had to agree. He was right, it was wiser if the both of you were in the same state to discuss. "Fine, but only a few drops..."

Severus nodded, "A few drops will be more than enough."

You reached for the vial, but Severus placed his hand on your chin before you could get your hands on it, and directed your face in his direction. “Open your mouth, please Y/n.”

His eyes were fixed on you, you felt like melting under his gaze, so intense was it. You couldn't ignore the intimate intensity of the situation, your cheeks were starting to burn. The scenario was far more pleasant than anything you could have imagined in your dirtiest dreams.

Without even adding anything, you parted your lips for him. Severus seemed satisfied with your willingness, and put the eyedropper to let a few drops fall from it. A promise he kept. And even though it was only a few drops, the taste burned in your throat, taking effect as soon as it was swallowed. It was addictive, sweet… Divine. A tickling sensation settled in your body, you felt perfectly fine, as if your body had never felt any tension.

Severus watched your every reaction, his hand still on your chin, you felt like your skin was burning under his fingers, "Well. You seem to be reacting well."

He withdrew his hand and this gesture left you with a feeling of need. Your eyes never left him for a second as you watched him perform the same operation with himself. His previously tense face, softened in an instant. To have Severus so effortlessly relaxed was quite an exclusive sight. He trusted you enough to be so vulnerable without shame, in front of you. It made you smile.

"Y/n, I've been intending to talk to you about this for a while, it weighs on me just as much. I'm sorry for the way I acted," Severus began quietly.

Hearing him apologise was strange, he was such a proud man. It made you happy, because while he was under the effect of the potion, he was still aware of what he was doing or saying. He was not controlled by the Potion, in front of you there was a sincere and apologetic Severus. One of the many facets you were starting to find out about this very mysterious man.

"I apologise as well, I wasn't always straightforward." You matched his gentle tone,

Severus shook his head, "You were not the problem, I handled the situation very poorly. It's all my fault, I hurt you." He put his hand over his face, ashamed, "When, in fact, that's all I wanted to avoid... It haunted me, until I saw you again a few months ago. I wanted redemption, to make sure you were fine without me... But, I’m selfish as I am taking a role in your life again,” He sighed hopelessly, “There's still this guilt in me.”

Hearing Severus speak with such regret, made your heart grow fonder for the man, you couldn't fault him. He had suffered the same pain from his choices, he acted in order not to lose his teaching position, in order to not deprive you of a possible 'happy' life. And even if the Potion worked miracles, guilt and pain couldn't be erased. You wanted to reassure him, to remove this pain from him, to leave it in the past. "Severus, I only wish to understand what I did wrong..." You whispered, your eyes focused on the buttons that fastened his cutaway coat.

The more minutes passed, the more the Potion worked through your body. The sensation was odd, like a kind of ache, but it was unmistakably delightful. This only served to reinforce your self-consciousness about the situation, your body tickled everywhere, straining, trembling, longing to be close to him.

"You have done nothing wrong... As the days went by, my regard for you changed. Your radiant smile, the way your eyes brighten at my every word, the way your perfume intoxicates me when it stays in the classroom, your delicate hands working with agility... All of this, I should never have noticed, and yet, I couldn't help but feel captivated. Charmed because of what you were, and still are, in fact."

He slowly pulled his hand away from his face. But, you didn't want to leave him in his demise, so you laid your hand on his as he lowered it, encouraging him to continue. "I wasn't blind, I knew the feeling you held for me. I believed it was for the benefit of the both of us. But after rejecting you, I was terribly missing you. Inside me, it built up a terrible guilt…” He paused for a moment before concluding, “And without realising it, I was feeling the same way about you."

Severus gently takes your hand in his, as if you were a delicate flower, or would disappear at any moment. His gaze is now focussed on both your joined hands, "Since, I haven't stopped thinking about you, night and day. Seeing you again... Was a breath of hope, I thought impossible. And even though you sounded different, like you were angry with me, I couldn't help but appreciate you. I soon realised that despite all my efforts, pushing you away a second time was beyond me... Beyond my strength."

He intertwined his fingers with yours, "You can hate me, yell at me. I hurt you and yet, selfishly you're here with me, instead of enjoying what life has to give you. I’m older, grim, and stern. I don't deserve you."

As he confessed, what you were focused on, was the heavy pounding of your heart ringing in your ears. The intensity of his emotions was heartbreaking, as you listened to him.

Your body's reaction to his was overwhelming, everything seemed like a raging fire that neither of you wanted to quench. The sensation of his own skin against yours only made it burn harder, leaving you with an insatiable urge of need and want. Your body knew what it wanted, the heat started to build up in the lower part of your stomach.

"I- Severus… I'm sorry that I was angry with you, when you were trying to do the right thing. I had no idea how you might be feeling on your own. But today, everything has changed, I’m not your student anymore.” You spoke with all the determination you could muster to prove him wrong, “And I don't care what life has to offer, if you are older. I know what I want. And it’s you.”

“It's only been a few weeks since I've been back with you, and I've never felt so happy. I feel alive.” Your cheeks flushed hot at your blunt words, “And to be honest, the club, the award, Sweet Juice, I did it all, to get your attention. I wanted to be special to you again."

"Come," Severus uttered in a deep, rumbling voice. His hand, the one that was already holding you, pulled you towards him, and his other hand guided your hips as he gently settled you on his lap, straddling him. The way your body easily accepted his request, was a reflection of how much you wanted to be with him, to be close to him.

"I wanted to move on, to forget you, but it was impossible. But nowadays, as I am closer to you..." Your eyes fell on his face, Severus seemed to be listening to you with such intensity, that coupled with this sudden intimacy caused you to speak in a shaky breath, "I burn and my body is feeling new things, and the intensity is only growing, nearly out of control. I can't think anymore, you're always on my mind…- I just want to be close to you, like I've always hoped." Your voice died down near the end, admitting your deepest thoughts. You were nervous, the aching sensation started to get on your nerves, overflowing with desire for the man in front of you.

His hands gripped your clothes, as if to remind you that he was indeed there, by your side. You were taken aback by the violent wave of emotions that flashed through his eyes. Severus had said nothing after your own confession, but there was no need for him to speak in order for you to understand. His eyes were speaking for him. Need, lust, desperation, want, longing- And most strikingly, love. His hands clasped your face, leaving you no choice but to lock your eyes with his. You couldn't escape the impact of his emotions, of the intense waves crashing over you nearly suffocating you. And the truth is, you had no desire to avoid him.

It was as if time had stopped, his beautiful face, his lovely hands, the wildness in his eyes, and the way he made you feel was beyond description.

"I love you," He exhaled as his thumb stroked your cheek. It felt like a weight was being lifted from his chest,

Your fingers found his shoulders, pressing into the soft fabric of his coat, “I love you as well,” You answered, the same weight disappearing from your heart.

The affirmation of your feelings towards him seemed to ignite something new in Severus. His thumb went down to your lips, running it over them, "You know, I thought about you as my assistant not only because you're the smartest, most diligent and serious person I know to handle the task perfectly," He spoke in a low grumble that made your whole body quiver, "But also because every night as I took a stronger dose of that delicious elixir you conceived, I always find myself thinking about you. I found satisfaction only when I thought of you.”

He sighs, "I must admit that if you're here, it's also because I couldn't bear to keep all this to myself, I had to confess. I wanted to see you again, terribly."

“I’m here Severus, I’m here for you and only you.” You replied hurriedly in order to reassure him.

He took a deep breath, your words seemed to have reached his heart, "Maybe it's a bit premature, but I should ask you."

It sent a ripple of delight through your entire body, increasing the desperation you had to be against him, “What do you want to ask me, Severus?”

Your question, perhaps somewhat naive given the situation, brought a smile to his lips, “Would you like to make love with me?” The question was phrased extremely graciously, contrasting dramatically with the ferocity of his eyes.

Your body shivered under his powerful stare. Your reply was obvious, and yet in the warmth of his body, in the puddle of intensity that Severus was bathing you in, you were at a loss for words. He looked at you like a hunter ready to chase down his prey, your consent was all he needed for him to pounce on you. It should have worried you, but behind his raging stare were years of self-restraint and pain. You felt more than special, being loved by such a cold and distant man made you feel like you were the only one in this wide world, the one and only for him.

You couldn't make him wait any longer, it was torture for him as much as it was for you. So you nodded, silently at first, then you found the courage to finally voice your need, "Yes, Severus, I do."

He smiled again, it was a delightful sight to see Severus smiling, and you took a moment to observe him as if to commit the image to memory. It was so infrequent, that you were pleased to know that you were the only one to be blessed by it. He was perfect, you could do nothing but kiss him. Passionately, freely, desperately. There was nothing anymore to stop you from doing it. You tasted him, setting all your senses on fire. You licked the inside of his mouth, as his tongue linked with yours in an intoxicating dance that only the both of you seemed to know. The scent and taste of him captured all your senses, and you couldn't stop humming with delight as it resonated through your chest from the pleasure of kissing him.

In that first kiss, you feel it all.

Both of his hands clasped your face tightly to keep you close to him as your hands trailed through his long hair, down to his neck. The warmth that radiated from him made your flesh flush, your heart pounding so hard in your chest that even Severus should be able to feel it. He tasted like heaven.

He skillfully guides you, allowing you to get lost in his adoration. One hand gently grasped your throat, while his other hand travelled from your cheek over your neck, down to your waist where his arm snaked around to press your body against his in a secure embrace.

Severus didn't break the kiss, as he stood up, carrying you in his arms. Your eyes were closed, allowing you to get completely absorbed in the feverish kiss, but you knew he was heading for his bed. The next moment, your body found its place against the soft fabric of his sheets, enveloping you once again in his wonderful manly scent. Wrecking you, in the most pleasing ways possible.

You moaned into his mouth as your fingers tugged his hair a bit tighter, Severus growled at your action, searing your whole being from you body to your soul. You were desperate for more, to see him, to touch him, to feel him. Your clothes were simply a suffocating barrier that separated you from Severus. Your irritation didn't seem to escape Severus as he broke off the feverish kiss you two were sharing.

You finally opened your eyes, to be greeted by a dishevelled and flushed Severus. You were both out of breath, panting. However, he was quick to lay another kiss on the exposed skin of your throat. Sweetly, lovingly, small kisses from the tip of his lips teasing you, all dripping with desire.

"Love, you're perfect," He hummed against your neck as he gently nuzzled his nose against it to inhale your fragrance. You were like in heaven, your blood was running through your veins, your stomach transformed into butterflies out of worship for him.

His hands ran along your body, before undoing the button on your skirt. Your thighs were released quickly from the constraint that your clothes provided you as he dropped the first piece of fabric on the floor. Your hands hesitantly passed over his upper body, your fingers delicately unfasten the buttons of his coat. Once done, your hands grabbed the lapels of his coat to let it fall over his shoulders, quickly meeting your skirt on the floor.

Severus certainly was consumed by an insatiable urge, never getting enough of you. His lips never leave you, trailing against your jaw, nibbling your earlobe. His warm breath left your sensitive skin tingling with delight. Your hands were slightly trembling as you began to reach for his shirt, while his hands reached for the rest of your clothes with utmost care.

The clothes that had been a painful barrier, began to strip from your bodies, slowly, teasingly. Falling one by one on the floor. Severus leaned on his arm as he took a few steps back, your breath caught with worry and missing his warmth. His eyes roamed over your body, in an intimidating powerful manner. You had never felt so vulnerable and exposed, only covered by your underwear, his intense gaze left a heavy feeling on everything you could offer him.

However, you didn't have time to think for long when his lips captured yours. “Perfect,” He whispered as his eyes met yours. With burning cheeks, you averted your eyes. You could not hold his gaze, so much the intensity of his emotions caught your heart. His pupils were dilated, too wild, too fiery.

Your reaction left Severus laughing in a deep breath, "You really are more lovely than anything I could have imagined. My mind didn’t do you justice, love.” The gentle title he gave you made your heart beat faster, and as your hands were pressed against his chest you sensed the intense pounding of his as well. Both your hearts were beating in perfect tune.

Your hands began to undo the upper part of his shirt, releasing his neck from his stiff attire. You were still shaking, but proceeded nonetheless. There was only a layer left before you could see him as vulnerable. Severus waited, letting you take all the time you needed to finish. And the next thing you knew, you were pulling his shirt off his shoulders in the same way you'd done before.

You marvelled at the sight in front of you, your breath caught in your throat at the sheer beauty of Severus, his broad shoulders, his pale pearly skin, his strong arms were now at your total disposal. You gave yourself a moment to appreciate the one you've craved for, over the years.

"Perfect," You whispered with the same adoration he had for you, your fingers spread over his bare skin, temptingly. You were amazed at the softness of his body despite his strength, he, who held himself so rigidly in his daily life.

"Not as much as you, love," Severus left a warm kiss on your cleavage and his hands found the clasp of your bra as your hands found down his trousers. He removed the rest of his clothes at the same time as you.

Your skin was flushed, your breaths quick and uneven with anticipation. It's a good thing you had taken a few drops of Sweet Juice, otherwise you would have been a nervous wreck. This allowed you to handle the whole experience with confidence, coupled with your trust in Severus, it was pure bliss. And this must have been the case for Severus, because behind his expert strokes, he seemed a bit unsure with himself.

Your skin burned under his every touch, letting the fire spread over your skin down to your trembling, hot, insides. You were wet, swollen and soft. Severus sat on his knees, between your legs. The action left your body screaming with desperation, arching with anticipation for more, for him. Until now, you had not dared to lower your eyes to the level of his girth, but now it was time to get acquainted with what was about to enter you. Your breath was taken away at the sight of his long, veiny and erect manhood. That’s going inside of me?

"Love, I'll be gentle with you," Severus sensed your apprehension immediately, his hands gently resting on your knees to spread your legs leaving your body on high alert. He leaned forward, and placed a first kiss on your jaw, then another one on your breast, before his mouth wrapped around your already hard nipples to sweetly suck on it.

You didn't know if you'd taken a sufficiently large dose of the Potion for it to play on your sexual sensibilities, but you gasped. The feeling of his soft lips over your most forbidden body parts was exhilarating, your insides tensed. Your breasts were sensitive, responsive to every lick he gave. You were blown away by the way your body fit to him, catching his slightest touch. And as if he wasn't satisfied enough with himself, he moved his hand up from your hip, running teasingly along your skin to find your nipple, toying with it, pinching it. You couldn't help but moan, the sensation strains you again, leaving you longing for more. Your mind failed to follow, a wave of pleasure overtaking your whole body. Everything felt heightened, the sound of Severus' sharp breath, his tongue, his touch, his scent. Even the cotton of his sheets was seemingly intense.

Severus let out a long, deep growl from the back of his throat, and it made your whole body shudder. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, ready to welcome him. He understood the sign, but continued to whisper his words of adoration, of love for you. How he had dreamed of this for years, that he didn't want to be apart from you anymore. His words that met the hollow of your ear, made you feel in a whirlwind of emotions, cherished and safe. You held on to him, your arms reaching around his shoulders.

He wanted to slowly devour you, until your rational thoughts were consumed by pleasure.

“Sev,” You breathed out a long, deep moan as his finger slid inside you. You were soaking wet at this point, drenched for him. His finger stroked your insides, his thumb brushed against your sensitive bundle of nerves while his lips lingered on your throat, placing numerous small kisses.

“You are perfect,” He hummed out, right by your ear, “Perfect for me,” His nose dragged along your skin, in the hope of finding a new spot to kiss. He pressed another finger into you. Your legs tightened while your insides softened further. The stretching of his fingers was astounding. “You are the only one for me, I love you,” His words shattered everything, all the common sense you had in you. You wanted him to ruin you with his love. In a manner as violent as the emotions you had for each other, giving him everything, everything you ever had.

Removing his fingers, your eyes fell on his hand as it darted back and forth between his legs. You gasped as his delicate hand folded around the girth of his manhood. "Love, I'm here. It's going to be fine. Tell me if you don't feel well, I'll stop," he hummed softly as he laid back against you, pressing his body over yours. You nodded, and his lips found yours anew.

You felt his body lowering, and the next instant, he was sinking inside you. You hissed from the pleasure that suddenly caught hold of you. There was no discomfort, no pain, your body adapted, moulded itself to him. Your body was being taken by Severus, and everything at that moment, finally being one with him, felt right.

“Look at me,” He ordered you gently, holding himself up with one arm, ready to move. When your eyes met his, you were immersed in the depth of his love. You felt calm, in heaven, as you were shaped to accommodate him. He was the only one in this world, especially when he was looking at you with such worship.

“Good,” He smiled in satisfaction when you complied. Your eyes were hypnotised by all the love he bore you. He began to draw out, slowly. And as with your skin, your insides were just as sensitive causing electricity to run through your body, sending a shiver down your spine. His gaze intensified as he began to move a bit faster, his movements always precise and well controlled, making it more intense.

Catching his breath, Severus kept praising you, “You, are, magnifi-cent,” He growled in a low tone, between thrust as you moaned out his name in a barely comprehensible manner. You find satisfaction in being filled and stroked, to be loved in such a carnal manner, it was intense, overwhelmingly intense. He was everywhere, he was everything to you.

“Sev-, Severus, I love you!” Your voice was slurred, your mind was unable to form a coherent thought, and yet you felt the urgent need to confess your love all over again. At your words, he quickened his pace and buried himself inside you, over and over.

You were consumed by him, by his love, by your love for him. You were his, and he was yours. Entirely, irrevocably, ineluctably. There was no other way. Severus was breaking everything you owned, and it felt right. With every push, with every pull, with his loving hands, with his loving words, with his hungry breath, he was breaking you.

“Please,” You pleaded for him, a moan escaping through your sore lips. His movements became powerful, irregular, hasty. As if to satisfy you as much as possible, even if he was exceeding all your wishes, pushing your mind to the edge of depravity with each of his thrusts.

“Love,” He growled in a feverish manner, as if he had been entrusted with the most valuable mission possible, to please you. He shoved in so deeply that your eyes rolled back and watered from the sensation of being nothing but completely filled. You back arched in pleasure, welcoming the emotion in its fullest.

“Awh-” You gasped as he started to pace harder, faster. Your legs were quivering from the pleasure, your lungs burned from your moans. He held onto you tighter, in order to be able to dig into you with more vigour. Over and over. It was relentless. His need for you became beyond desperate and engulfed him into the same depravity.

“I love-, you,” He moaned darkly under his gruff breath, “I can’t-” He growled this time, in a low rumbling. His movements became irregular, erratic.

You kissed his neck, inhaling his sweaty scent and the taste of his skin stirred in your mouth. “Me too-” You whispered, in a rather dark tone, meeting his love and distress at the same time.

“Y/n-!” He growled, and after a split second, you felt him growing within you, as his whole body tightened, hardened. His cock shifted faster inside you, pounding against your inner walls. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and moans his release before his movements come to a slow halt.

Ripples of heat mingled with the throbbing of muscles and the warmth of the skin inside you. You held him close and marvelled at the sensation of your orgasm, of being filled and being enough for him to reach such a fierce release. To be enough for him to love you, to be enough for him to be so intimate with you.

You caught your breath, you were in a state of pure bliss. The last waves of pleasure take over your body, making the pleasure last longer. Severus withdrew from you, leaving you with a longing that he satisfied by taking you in his arms enjoying your post-orgasm state.

He placed a kiss on your sweaty forehead as he affectionately snuggled you pressing your body against his. After the intense encounter you'd just experienced he still longed to feel your burning skin against his. “I love you,” He said it again, as if he needed to prove it to you, but you knew by now that his affection towards you was wrenching.

"I love you more," you lay your head against his chest, letting the sound of his heart lull you to sleep as it only started to calm. His soft laughter vibrated through his rib cage,

"I doubt it, love, but this is not the time to talk about it. Tomorrow is another day, a day when I can finally enjoy you without any rules or barriers," Severus sounded enthusiastic, he pulled the blanket over both of your naked bodies and took his wand to stop all sources of fire from making any light.

His uncharacteristic lively tone brings a peaceful smile to your lips, you are now the one that makes Severus eager to wake up in the morning, to carry on with his life. He was your source of happiness, and you were his.

After years of trying to understand everything between the two of you, you were now in his arms.

Peaceful.

Loved.

#severus snape #snape content #severus snape x reader #severus x reader #snape x reader #severus snape x you #fanfic

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morningberriesao3 · 5 months

Text

As Sneaky Link comes to an end, it just means that I’ll get to work on some other fun projects that have been in my drafts for (literally) a year and a half.

The next multi chapter I’m working on is set back in the 80s. Only this time, it’s not Steve who spirals about his sexuality.

Eddie is straight—he’s just never met the right girl to feel that spark. But Steve over the last years has had a secret that he’s told no one. Not even Robin.

Until Eddie walks in on him in a very compromising position. With another man.

I started this fic as something we hardly see in the Steddie fandom—and that’s Steve being the certified queer, and Eddie having a full blown crisis as he figures himself out.

As promised, below the cut is the first 2.4K words of chapter 1, and in February it’ll be posted in its entirety on my ao3: morningberries

Enjoy 🥹

It was a chilly day in early September—the wind carrying half-brown leaves through the air in swirling patterns that looked like mini tornados. Eddie stared at them from his trailer’s living room window as Wayne’s truck disappeared beyond the bend in the road.

Another weekend alone as his uncle worked a double shift.

It’s not that Eddie didn’t have friends. There was Gareth and Jeff and Grant—the members from his beloved band Corroded Coffin—but he knew Jeff was on vacation with his parents before college started and Grant was working with his dad in the garage on that ’69 Mustang they picked up from the scrapyard over the summer. Gareth, although in Hawkins, had landed himself a hot new girlfriend and spent every waking moment with her.

Eddie couldn’t really blame him, even though he didn’t really get it.

It had been the same thing his whole life, if he was being honest with himself. Since middle school, he’d watch his friends start dating whatever chick they had a crush on, listen to them start yammering about how gorgeous she was or how cool or how smart. How she made them get butterflies in their stomachs, whatever the fuck that meant.

Yeah, cool.

Eddie had dated girls—some pretty cute ones at that. There was Sam, who he dated his second senior year, and they’d gotten along really well. She was what Eddie thought should probably be his type—dark hair, a lip ring, wore lipstick in blacks and unearthly blues. She was even in Hellfire Club and honestly kicked ass at it. Objectively, on paper, she was everything he wanted.

Except he didn’t feel it. Whatever it was. The fucking butterflies, or whatever.

When they broke up, it hadn’t really been the end of the world. He mourned their friendship more than the sexual aspect of their relationship, because Sam had been awesome to hang out with and smoke with and laugh with.

Gareth hadn’t believed Eddie when he said he was fine—took a solid 4 months before Gare actually accepted that Eddie’s heart wasn’t shattered.

Eddie cared more about… God, like, anything but dating. Like D&D, and his friends, and his guitar, and Metallica’s newest album, and making his fucking bed in the morning, and even his therapist. He knew it didn’t really help him look normal to be a twenty-year-old man who couldn’t care less about pursuing girls, but whatever. He was King Freak, after all.

When he met Chrissy six months ago, he thought for a moment that he might be able to convince himself to have a crush on her. It should be easy; a small, thin, blonde, pretty cheerleader is everyone’s type. Maybe he’d just been chasing after the wrong girls. But what he felt on the drive to his trailer with Chrissy in his front seat, as she timidly told him she thought he was kind and funny, was, again… not the fireworks he expected from all the stories of love at first sight.

And then she’d died, which vastly overshadowed Eddie’s worry that there might be something wrong with him for not developing feelings. He talked about both things in his weekly government mandated therapy sessions. But mostly about her death.

The doctor had told Eddie it wasn’t uncommon to have an aversion to romantic or sexual relationships after experiencing trauma. Eddie didn’t really bother to elaborate that it had started long before said trauma. But whatever.

He digressed.

Gareth had a girlfriend, and they spent their time making out and—apparently now—doing hands and mouth stuff. At least, that’s what Gareth had been bragging about at their last band practice. And, according to him, they were probably going to fuck on this weekend that Eddie was once again alone, so calling Gareth was completely off the table.

He sighed, standing from his uncle’s withered brown couch to walk the ten steps to his bedroom. He plucked his guitar from her hook on the wall, strummed a few chords without bothering to plug her in. If he was really going to talk about trauma responses and aversions, he might as well start with the one he developed for playing his guitar after the epic battle in the Upside Down.

Since the day he nearly bled out on the gravel outside of his trailer (that wasn’t really his trailer, because apparently alternate dimensions are, like, actually a thing), he hadn’t really been able to play anymore. It wasn’t some dramatic thing, like getting wild flashbacks of battling massive fucking hell-bats, or getting feasted on by their fang-filled mouths, or Dustin crying over him, or what if felt like when he literally died for four minutes before he was defibrillated. It was just this soft, but uncomfortable, feeling in his stomach, accompanied by massive brain fog, and a general lack of motivation to learn anything new.

He hung the guitar back where it belonged, in front of his mirror. The reflection that looked back at him looked… well, goddamn bored, for one. And a little anxious. And like he should probably try to reach out to some of his other friends.

There had been some silver linings to the whole everything-he’s-ever-known-about-the-world-has-been-a-lie thing. He did, now, have other friends. Dustin, for one, would hang out with him on days that weren’t D&D related. Although, Eddie was sure that a lot of that was because he had a working vehicle that could tow him around to the arcade, or the diner (where Eddie paid for Dustin’s meals, obviously), or the video store.

Eddie didn’t mind crashing Family Video, because more often than not, it meant he could visit his new age-appropriate friend.

Robin and Eddie had become attached at the hip, honestly. Best friends. Trauma bonded, or something. Or maybe it had more to do with the fact that they were both losers, and somehow both smart and dumb at the same time. They also both talked a lot, and got excited over weird shit, and liked to rag on Dustin. So Eddie really took a liking to Robin.

And here was something that he’d been thinking about for the last few weeks.

Maybe he had a crush on her? It didn’t really sound right, but he did get excited when he got to see her, and his heartrate sometimes sped up when he went to family video and he first laid eyes on her talking to Steve, and maybe there was also a tinge of jealousy that settled in the pit of his stomach when he thought of how close they were. That had to mean something—meant something more than anything else he’d ever felt before.

He knew if Steve and Robin were going to get together, it more than likely would have already happened. But the thought still nagged on him a bit. He wouldn’t like it, and he couldn’t really put his finger on why. Having a crush on Robin was the only feasible explanation, really.

It was either that, or perhaps it was because Eddie was convinced that Steve hated him for some unknown reason.

Eddie tried to become friends with Steve during the aftermath of the Upside Down, and for a while it seemed like it was working. It seemed like Steve actually enjoyed Eddie’s company.

They’d hang out first with Rob, or Dustin. And then just by themselves. Steve even came to smoke up at the trailer once or twice, ended up crashing on Eddie’s couch. Steve used to smile at him, and nudge him in the shoulders like they were sharing some inside joke, or sling his arm around Eddie casually like they’d known each other for ages.

It always made Eddie feel like he was buzzing, like there was some sort of weight in his chest that spasmed and choked him. His therapist had said that it was probably some sort of satiation for his inner child, finally being accepted by someone who was deemed popular. Eddie hadn’t ever thought he cared about shit like that, but the subconscious was a mysterious place, he was coming to learn. Definitely explained the attachment he felt for Steve those first few months out of the hospital; the absolute giddiness he felt when they got to hang out.

But that was at the beginning. The start of July was when Eddie noticed Steve acting different towards him. Avoiding touch, and then eye contact, and then Eddie’s calls, and finally, just Eddie altogether.

The pit Eddie had felt in his stomach from losing Steve’s affection had been awful. He really thought they were becoming close, really thought it was the start of something. A really great friendship.

But Steve peaced out as quickly as he bonded with Eddie, apparently deciding now that they were back in the real world, they couldn’t really mingle anymore.

The bond they formed in the Upside Down was acceptable when they were actively monster hunting, but Eddie supposed now that things had somewhat calmed, reality started to crash into focus. Steve was still a jock; Eddie was still a freak. Therefore, no more sitting across from each other at Benny’s Diner.

That was Eddie’s theory, at least. When he’d ask Robin about it, she’d just shrugged her shoulders and said, “He hasn’t spoken badly about you. Like, at all. Seems like he likes you to me.”

Then, as if to prove his point, Steve would go all red when Eddie would stop by his work and go hide in the back room until the kids picked whatever Sci-Fi movie and piled back in Eddie’s van.

Whatever. It didn’t matter.

Eddie survived sans Steve before the Upside Down, he’d survive without him now.

He picked up the phone and dialed Robin’s number.

“Hello?”

“Rob,” Eddie greeted, a smile already forming on his face from hearing her raspy voice. “What are you up to?”

He could hear a snort from the other end of the line. He knew she was rolling her eyes. “On a Friday afternoon at five PM? Absolutely nothing, of course.”

“Is that sarcasm?”

“Did it sound like sarcasm?”

“I’ll be honest with you,” he said, tucking the phone against his shoulder as he poured himself a mug of old drip coffee from this morning, “it very much did.”

“You’re getting better at social cues!” she mockingly praised.

“Watch it, Bucky. Don’t get too comfortable hiding behind that phone.”

“You’ll forget before the next time we see each other. I’m not too worried.”

Eddie sighed for what felt like the hundredth time since his uncle left the trailer. “Does that mean you can’t hang?”

The line crackled as Robin moved through her living room. Eddie could imagine her flopping on the couch, getting comfortable, her green phone glued to her ear with a big bowl of popcorn settled in her lap. “Noooott necessarily,” she drawled out. “Although, I know you’re not exactly fond of parties.”

Eddie furrowed his brow as he slid his mug onto the new microwave’s glass plate. He’d gotten it for Wayne’s birthday with some of the hush money the government had… well, hushed him with. Eddie had promised to keep his lips sealed when they flashed him the size of the cheque. Not like he had many people to tell, anyway.

“You’re going to a party?”

“Yeah,” she said, sounding surprised. “Steve’s party? For his twentieth?”

Eddie’s stomach dropped. “Steve’s having a party for his birthday?”

As far as he’d known, Steve said he was doing a quiet thing with his parents and his aunt that he didn’t even want to attend, and that was that. He’d just shrugged when Eddie pressed about celebrating with his friends, muttering something about it feeling weird to celebrate after everything that went down earlier in the year.

Which had been fair enough.

But now it was abundantly clear that Steve had been lying to Eddie. To keep him away.

“Uh, of course he is, Doofus. He told me you said you couldn’t come?”

Eddie, for some wild reason, felt his eyes pricking with tears. Out of anger or betrayal or confusion, he wasn’t really sure. It was dumb; he was tough, and he didn’t cry when jocks hated him ever before. So he swallowed them back down.

“Guess my plans changed,” he said, venom seeping into his tone. Fuck Steve and his master plan to keep Eddie from attending his dumb house party. “I’m coming.”

It seemed that Robin was totally oblivious to his anger as she squealed excitedly from the other end of the line. “Yay! Will you come pick me up then? It would be so much cooler to show up with a friend than have my mom drop me off in front of all the former popular kids of Hawkins High.”

“Why do you care about that shit?” Eddie asked, even though he knew it was hypocritical of him.

“Look, I know you’re totally unaffected by the social hierarchy, Eddie, but I’m unashamed to admit that it’ll feel kind of amazing to debut myself as Steve’s best friend, you know? And I’d rather do it in your shitty van than have my mother yelling that she loves me from the open window of her Honda Civic.”

“Don’t call ol’ Heffer shitty,” Eddie sulked. “It’s not good to bite the hand that feeds you. Or something like that.”

Eddie ignored that it didn’t feel great when Robin said she was Steve’s best friend. That heavy shadow of jealousy weighed down on him. He was unclear whether it was because he was jealous of Steve or Robin.

“Whatever,” Robin said, her voice laced with yet another eyeroll. “Pick me up at seven-thirty?”

Eddie nodded, his face still pulled into a scowl. When he realised Robin couldn’t see him, he shook his muddled brain and mumbled, “Uh—yeah. Seven-thirty. See you then.”

“Cool. See you soon, Doofus,” Robin sang. And then the line went dead.

#steddie fic #steddie #eddie munson #eddie x steve #steve harrington #steddie fanfiction #stranger things #steddie fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #sneaky link ao3 #morningberriesao3 #morningberries #steve and eddie #eddie munson x steve harrington

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slytherizz · 5 months

Text

Playing God - Auror!Sebastian x Dark!MC

Tags/Warnings: 18+ | Non-Con | explicit sexual content | Dark!MC | Polyjuice Sex

All tags can be found on Ao3

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: Decorated Auror, Sebastian Sallow had not anticipated how his life would diverge so sharply from the woman he once loved, the most wanted and notorious witch in Britain. Or how their paths would continue to cross - their fates still bound together.

A/N This fic has been living in my WIPs for about 6 months...I wanted to reverse the dynamic of my longer fic with Sebastian being the Auror this time and in doing such explore some darker themes. Short multi-chapter that will probably end up being three chapters at most.

She was pretty enough he supposed in a homely sort of way.

Petite, with neat shoulder-length hair that brushed against narrow shoulders and, a soft bow to her overly thin top lip. But her dress was old-fashioned, a severe high-neck buttoned almost to her chin, ruffled layers of her underskirts impractical and lumpy. Layers upon layers, of an unflattering shade of yellow washed out her otherwise pleasant features.

Compared to the other witches that would frequent such a seedy establishment with their low necklines and light skirts, she would be considered dowdy.

If it wasn't for her eyes. Keen and alert as if beneath the sheep-like exterior lurked something dangerous. He most likely would have overlooked her too.

To even the keenest observer it wouldn't look like Sebastian had any particular tastes when it came to women or men. Much to his displeasure, the qualities that drew him in were rarely mere aesthetic.

Barked laughter like an ill-tempered hound. The smell of mallowsweet. Aromatic and earthy. Teeth pressed lightly into a bottom lip like they held all the cards in a game no one else knew they were playing. Until they spread the winning hand. Smile so wide it unnerved, bore too many teeth.

Tonight, it was keen and dangerous eyes that reminded him of her.

They shared no other similarities and from what Sebastian could discern from her well-manicured nails, and unblemished skin, bar a pale line around her finger where he supposed an engagement ring would usually sit - this was no fighter.

This was a proper young lady - who had wandered onto the wrong side of town looking for a sensible amount of trouble as her wedding day, most likely to some equally wellbred suitor, loomed over her like a dark cloud.

As if Sebastian were screaming his thoughts at her across the crowded tavern, those sharp eyes flicked their attention to him. Raked over the thinning patches of his civilian cloak, the shadow across his jaw, the dark circles under his eyes he'd given up glamouring. After years they were as much a staple of his face as the freckles on his nose.

The marks of a man who hadn't enough time to shave let alone visit a tailor, a man who would scarcely have enough time to ask her too many intrusive questions.

She smiled. Jarring was the only way Sebastian could describe how her face seemed to split horizontally across its centre. Neither half quite belonged to the other. The demure and polite curl of her lips was offset by the razor-edged scrutiny of her darkened gaze. Predatory. Hungry. In a way that made his mouth go dry and cool sweat beads on the back of his neck.

Ice clinked against the side of his glass as Sebastian knocked back the remaining dregs of whiskey. Disguising the way his lip twitched at the corners under the weight of her eyes. Amber liquid burned his throat was nothing compared to the heat prickling across his skin.

Sebastian held up two fingers to indicate to the Barmaid over the raucous patrons of the pub. She placed a second glass on the bar filling them both with a more than generous pour.

"Cheers," Sebastian said, placing the coins into her hand, a little extra for her trouble as he always did. The barmaid smiled brightly, flushed and preening, over a few extra sickles as if he'd declared some great love for her. Though he supposed generosity was not a trait of many that frequented the Ogre's Arms. She leaned a little further over the bar than was strictly necessary, her fingers linger too long against his palm as he hands over his sickles.

Sebastian did not miss the way that the strangers' eyes tracked the interaction. As swift and deliberately as he had been trained to be with every motion, he slipped his hand from the barmaid's grasp deftly hooking his fingers into the rim of the grotesquely full tumblers as he spun on his heels.

Whatever the poor girl had been about to say faltered in her throat. Crackling out of life like a dying gramophone. He really should have felt some sympathy for the poor girl.

She'd made her fondness for him quite obvious over the years. Despite how Sebastian would sidle out the door with what must seem like any witch but her. Too worried about any kind of arrangement that would ask for more than he was willing, or able, to give. Nor did he wish to find a new hole to drown himself in.

And regretfully - her gentle honeyed voice and hopeful doe eyes that delivered longing glances had never stirred anything inside of Sebastian. As much as on some nights he wished they would.

Sebastian weaved through the sparse gathering around the bar of the more rambunctious patrons. Turning a blind eye, to the corner booth and the two witches poorly disguising their face under their dramatic hoods, exchanging money, a rather suspicious-looking sack at their feet which gave a periodic shudder and what looked like spines protruding from the burlap. It may be his job to investigate suspicious behaviour such as this but- he'd rather not have to explain to his sergeant exactly what he was doing in this pub in the first place.

Approaching her solitary table nestled in the corner, she inclined her chin up towards him. Smug. Sloped oak beams cast a thick shadow, and candlelight flickering against her cheekbones made her features waxy like an oil painting against a grimy canvas.

"May I?"

She tilted her head, as though she expected nothing else but was amused by his gesture nonetheless."Only because you brought a bribe."

Sebastian hooked the heel of his boot around the chair leg pulling out further. Placed the two glasses on the table as he sat, careful not to spill any against the oak surface. Not that it would be such a shame if it did. Cheap whiskey from a smudged glass was hardly a waste.

Sebastian tipped his glass to her in toast, she did not feign even the slightest interest in her glass or his hollow act of chivalry.

"I haven't seen you here before," Sebastian said.

Flexing her fingers, she admired those well-polished nails. "No. I don't suppose you would have."

West Country. Quaint. As out of place amongst the sea of London accents as her dress was from this decade. Confirming a very important fact for Sebastian she was certainly not from around here. For the best.

"This doesn't seem like the place for such a nice young lady such as yourself."

Chin resting on the back of her delicate hand. A feline grin spread across her face, as she lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Nor the place for well respected Ministry men."

Tension seized Sebastian's shoulders. Unnerved by her perception, his eyes darted across the sea of faces. He'd left the scarlet cloak with the gold badge adorning his lapels in his flat long before he'd made apparated to the bottom of Knockturn Alley. Places like these didn't take too kindly to rozzers scrambling their clientele. Nor would he want it to become common knowledge at the Ministry that he frequented grimy drinking holes on his off hours. He was certain she'd been alone but that prickle of unease had his hand reaching towards his wand.

She caught his arm swiftly, delicate fingers folded up the cuff of his cloak. Ministry insignia branded into the tan leather strap that secured his wand to his forearm.

Chuckling breathily to himself, Sebastian felt the tension ebb as, just as swiftly, she turned down the sleeve. "Half the people here carry their wand tucked up their sleeve. You have a keen eye, to have spotted that mark from halfway across the room, lass. Do you make it a habit of checking if every man who approaches you is an Auror?"

Sharp eyes glinted with mischief. "Only the ones that interest me."

"Must be my lucky day." He leaned in closer, bitter whiskey breath disturbed a loose curl around her ear as he whispered. "Unless there's a reason you have to be on such high alert for authority I should know about?"

"Do I look like the kind of woman who would have much trouble with the law?"

He cast his eyes down, at her unblemished hands. Free of callouses and scar tissue, the tight restrictiveness of her bodice ill-suited for battle, her polite disarming smile - even those eyes, so reminiscent but not quite right. Despising the remorseful pang in his chest. Nothing like her.

"Well if that's the case this," he gestured around the damp crooked hole masquerading as a tavern. "Certainly isn't the place for you."

"Nor you. Unless the requirements for holding such an esteemed post has gone severely downhill and they let swindlers and murderers into their ranks." He almost winced at the sting of the insult she unwittingly delivered.

"Perhaps lurking around in dingey bars with terrible whiskey isn't suited to either of us. Perhaps, upstanding members of society that we are, should go somewhere we can feel more…relaxed."

"And where exactly is there such a place for me?" Most women would have covered that glaring tan line on her finger, under gloved hands or glamour, but she seemed to flaunt it as she ghosted it across his knuckles; an invitation.

Sebastian's grin widened. "I have a few ideas."

"I don't have much time. So you better make every minute count."

***

Sebastian unlocked his front door with a snap of his fingers. Gestured her inside, his hand pressed into the small of her back. She inclined her head towards him, a smirk playing on her lips at the hollow politeness of his gesture. Knowing full well his intention of inviting her back to his flat was far from gentlemanly.

Exaggerated skirts shifted as she stepped inside. Soft lamp lights scattered around his living room sparked to life in welcome illuminating the small living area. Her formal attire looked out of place; more suited for high tea than the sparsely filled space Sebastian inhabited.

Files strewn across the long velvet settee, scattered teacups and candles burned down to the wick littered every available surface. He knew the larder would be just as barren save for some tea bags and a half-empty bottle of gin the department had cobbled together to purchase for his promotion. He didn't even like gin. The presence of female company always seemed to highlight just how every inch of his flat screamed bachelor.

Sebastian shrugged off his cloak, hooking it on the back of the door. Never once taking his eyes off her. Odd little creature that she was. Against the faint moonlight that trickled in from the arched window on the far wall, her face cloaked in darkness, she cast a dramatic silhouette.

Not quite her. No. But her dress despite its bulk could not disguise the dip of her waist, an alluring swell to her chest. With her face masked from view, he felt his drink-fogged mind teeter dangerously on an edge he would not let it wander past.

She'd bent down, and pinched the corner of a piece of parchment he'd discarded the previous night between her thumb and forefinger. Sebastian slipped his wand from the holster. With a flick, the paper pried itself free to rejoin the rest which were shuffling themselves back into their file before shooting across the room into the waiting drawer of his bureau. The gold lock clicked shut, locking them securely away with an audible snap.

Her head whipped around, her chin jutted out in irritation, and her eyes narrowed slightly into a glare. Sebastian shrugged, as he unbuckled the holster on his arm, placing it on the narrow kitchen island. "Classified information. I'm sure you understand."

Sebastian couldn't have nosy witches trawling through his case files. He'd seen plenty of Aurors sacked for lesser sins. And reporters from the Prophet certainly weren't above seduction tactics to get their stories. That knowledge did nothing however to stop the tingle that spread down his spine that the defiant look in her eye ignited in him.

"I suppose." She shrugged, a forced display of indifference. Before proceeding to further inspect his residence. Striding about like she owned the place and Sebastian was merely some troublesome tenant.

The cramped flat he'd started renting in London straight out of Hogwarts could hardly be considered a home. Sebastian never planned to make it one. Or stay for as long as he did. Merely a stepping stone, at the start of his career. Close to the Ministry, so he could collapse after a long day.

Eat. Sleep. Breath. Work.

That desperate desire to prove himself more than what he'd been. Never satisfied with his lot in life. By the grace of Merlin, he'd been given a second chance to make himself a man - his parents, his sister, that he could be proud of.

He had planned to settle down eventually. Fix the decaying bones of his parents' old house on the hill with her by his side. Both were now a faded, hopeless dream. Sebastian's life had rarely gone to plan.

Tracing a finger across the well-worn spines on his overstuffed bookshelf she pondered each title with interest. "Quite the collection you have. Some rather questionable titles you have here for a man of your profession."

"Special Ministry approval. They're charmed to be bound to my place of residence - before you get any ideas. Can never be too prepared in my line of work. Knowledge of magic of a more…delicate nature can be the difference between life and death."

Strictly speaking, this was not a lie. Any Auror worth his salt would have at least half the books in Sebastian's collection on curse-breaking, dark magic and deadly creatures. Admittedly, his robust library wasn't necessary for his career nor was all of it purely academic interest.

Eyewitness accounts of skinwalkers he'd picked up on a short trip to America, liaising with the MACUSA on their rising troll problem. Journals, written in the maddening scrawl of a witch who'd fancied herself a revolutionary scholar. Wanted to test the corruption dark magic had on the soul. Daft bugger used herself to test her theories. Now all that was left of her was crammed into a bachelor's bookcase.

Smallest in number and size, a thin collection of children's stories and a letter correspondence from crackpot conspiracists. He'd been too late to salvage anything that remained of Miriam Fig's research and this pitiful array was all that he'd discovered over the years with any reference to Ancient Magic. A small house fire could destroy what Sebastian could only assume was the largest collated materials on the subject.

It had been foolish to try to love her, but perhaps more still to hunt the vengeful wraith.

"Well read. Good career. Seems you are a rather eligible bachelor-"

Sebastian smiled moving closer towards her. "I'm not bad to look at either."

"Despite your proclivity for skulking around dingey bars. It's unusual to find a man such as yourself…unattached."

"What can I say - I'm married to my work. Not much time for anything else; not many witches would put up with the lifestyle long-term. Never been interested in marriage."

Liar.

She looked up at him through dark lashes, from how those sharp eyes stripped him back until he was raw and exposed - she scented his dishonesty. "Sounds like a lonely life."

"Depends on who you ask."

Sebastian leaned heavily on the shelf above her head, elbow brushing against well-loved spines. His calloused palm slipped around her waist, running up her side. Felt the curved bones of her corset under his thumb. Leaning in closer still, enough that his breath disturbed the loose curls around her temples. Her lips parted, tongue dancing along her bottom lip as she tilted her chin up towards him like a cat basking in a warm breeze.

She didn't waiver. Not a single flicker of hesitation in those sharp, piercing eyes. For a moment, Sebastian pitied the man who intended to marry her. But not enough to stop him from capturing her lips.

Tasting the tang of cheap whiskey in their mingled breath. Not a slither of remorse as her delicate hands found the nape of Sebastian's neck. Used chestnut curls to pull him closer to kiss him more deeply. Their breath was little more than stolen gasps for air and an opportunity for her tongue to seize and slip past parted lips.

Sebastian crowded her further against the bookshelf. Held tighter to the bunched fabric of her skirts, hands fumbling desperately to feel the shape it disguised. Frustrated by the garment, his lips left her mouth. Travelled down to her jaw, her breathing hitched, head tipped back to thunk against the shelf as Sebastian nipped and sucked at the column of her throat. A little too sharply. But she only pressed into him further. Blood and bruises bloomed wild across her skin as his teeth grazed along her heightened pulse.

He knew what it was like to try to ensnare creatures such as this. How they bit when cornered. Fool that he was, he desired to tame them, change their nature; almost as much as he craved to be bitten.

Maybe that was why he held her so firmly in his grasp. Petticoats balled in his fists, as he pressed himself awkwardly against her. Her dainty form didn't quite fit the stocky mould of his own.

Not that anyone witch or woman had since.

Not that she seemed to care. She pulled Sebastian in like he alone was hers to drink from. Like he belonged to her and she would bend and break him to fit her. Some part of him prayed she succeeded. He'd snap every bone in his body, boil down his sinew in the hope that when at last he healed - he would fit another.

Sebastian pressed his mouth into the crook of her shoulder and burrowed his face, inhaling deeply, as he mouthed at her skin. Soft and supple as an over-ripe peach. Desperately, pathetically trying and failing to make himself fit. But the bridge of his nose bumped harshly against her clavicle and his back ached from stooping.

He'd never melted into anyone since her. No matter how many times he tried with countless trysts with all the ways they reminded him of her in their laughs, smiles, and eyes - they were not her.

Pained groan against her shoulder. Cloth ripped as he tore past her outdated petticoats and the silk of her undergarments. Desperate hands kneaded at her bare flesh. Thigh. Hip. The curve of her arse. Every inch of her skin grew hot, flushed under his touch. If Sebastian had been in his right mind not addled, by drink and frustration he would have handed it to her; for such a wellbred lady, she did not startle easily or cringe from his working hands. With a strung-out whine, she simply displaced the torn fabric so Sebastian's knee pressed between her thighs could provide her with more friction.

Sebastian sank to his knees, hooking her thigh around his broad shoulder. Balanced precariously, her back pressed against the stacks and her leg suspended quivering. Heel dug between his shoulder blades as she sought stability. Her limbs were lean…soft. Delicate like a lamb. No coiled muscle battle worn and firm disguised under her skirts.

That did not stop Sebastian from groaning against the sparse hair as he nestled himself between her thighs. Her muscles clenched tighter. Not with apprehension. No. With blinding unhindered desire. Whining breathlessly, as she urged him to fulfil his role, drop any pretence to do what they came here for. This was no budding romance. And there was no time to pretend otherwise.

Sebastian's tongue darted out teasing the tip through her folds. Eagerly seeking out her bundle of nerves to curl his tongue under her hood. Satisfied, a mewl passed her lips to at last have Sebastian where she desired him most. Hips bucked and writhed with every broad stroke and teasing lick against her soaking entrance. Brown tresses tangled harshly in her grip, those neatly filed nails scratching encouragingly against his scalp.

Her taste was unfamiliar on Sebastian's tongue, but he only lapped at her more fervently. Desperate. As if he savoured enough of her desire for him - he could burn away the memories of sweeter nectars.

Bunching her skirt closer to her stomach, Sebastian's view of her was unobstructed. The collar pulled open where she'd made swift work of the buttons of her high neckline; they hung like loosely strung pearls cascading down her chest which heaved with every breath. Breasts dimpled against the restrictive tightly laced corset.

Sebastian's eyes flicked up to meet hers. Not the right shape or hue but that intensity to them. Storm raging across a riptide, Sebastian, vulnerable in their depth. He could drown in them and would do so gladly.

Blood rushed south, and Sebastian groaned low, pained. He sucked on her clit, coaxing more slick to coat his lips and chin. Hoping beyond hope that her eyes locked on his would flutter closed in pleasure. Her mouth was ajar, each drawn-out moan growing louder as she approached her peak. Clever calculating gaze fixed on Sebastian. He knew he was exactly where she wanted him. Prey to her predator. His cock strained and achingly hard because of it.

Her back arched against the stacks, toes curling against the centre of his back, legs shook with the strain to hold herself upright. Sebastian was relentless. He devoured the quivering nub, tongue teasing as he sucked. Her passionate cry was unrestrained, legs threatening to buckle bringing her down like a house of cards as she collapsed over the edge. Aftershock of pleasure rolled over her, he kept a firm grip on her hip as she rested more heavily against him. His desire for her is confusing and just as precarious.

Sebastian unhooked her leg from his shoulder, palms running along the backs of her calves. She was still propped up feebly holding herself against the bookcase. Pads of her fingers clutching pathetically at the shelves with the ball of her heel holding purchase on the floor.

Orgasm ebbing, softening her predatory edge. A smirk played at Sebastian's lips as he looked up at her once polished appearance now dishevelled. Rattling, with a lust-drunk gaze that defiant chin hanging slightly ajar as she greedily gulped down air.

She narrowed her eyes at his smug expression and gathered her composure before slipping her ruined dress from her shoulders letting it puddle at her feet. Nail digging under his chin as she beckoned Sebastian upwards, pulling him in.

It made Sebastian's heart beat wildly against his chest. A caged canary faced with a falcon.

Teeth grazed his bottom lip, tongue seeking his own. Sebastian's clothes fell away easily from his broad frame. His shirt was discarded, followed by breeches which tangled around his ankles as they fumbled towards the settee. Muffled grunts into her mouth every time her palm grazed his cock, hard and throbbing, through his undergarments. Sebastian moved to lie her swiftly across the settee. One hand pressed into the small of her back the other tangled in amongst the pins now falling loose from her hair.

Inexplicably, she moved faster than Sebastian thought she was capable of. Leg hooked around his ankle like a snake pulling him off balance. Backs of his knees connected with the settee as his legs buckled and Sebastian collapsed bodily onto cushions. Rarely with his extensive training did anyone get the jump on him.

Her lips curled as she observed the way his enlarged head twitched against his belly more eagerly. "Now, I think it's my turn." Laces from her corset pulled loose, she let the camisole shift to the floor with it. "-And you looked far too pretty beneath me."

As she straddled his lap, Sebastian spluttered on his groan and the intoxicating sensation of her wet centre against his shaft. Her palms were flat, braced against his chest, nails scratching at the coarse hairs that grew there. Every inch of her soft, naked flesh pressed against him. His hands settled on the curve of her hips, sliding along her flushed skin with hands that seemed too large.

She really was quite pretty. Sebastian just wished the parts that didn't remind him of her made his heart race as much as the ones that did.

She caught his lips, fingers cupped against his jaw, her mouth moving against his. Teeth and tongue. Hot breath came out in short dulcet pants as she greedily tasted the remnants of her arousal on his lips.

Her hand snaked down between them, taking Sebastian's throbbing length in her hand. He hissed, as her thumb smoothed over the leaking slit, aligning him with her entrance. Eyelashes fluttered a satisfied sigh, as she sank down, taking him inside of her. Dainty as she may appear, she appeared to relish the stretch to accommodate his size, almost as much as he did. So tight she gripped his cock, it almost sent him hurtling over the edge.

Barely giving herself time to adjust before she canted her hips. Weight shifting so she could slide up his shaft until only the head of his cock remained before sinking back down onto Sebastian's girth more demandingly. Needy grunts reverberated in Sebastian's chest as he matched her frantic desperate pace. Forehead braced on her chest as he bucked his hips into her tight core. Pebbled nipple caught between his lips, her head thrown back in a wanton moan as Sebastian ever so gently grazed the peak with his teeth.

Sebastian closed his eyes. Whiskey fog coupled with the godly feel of her clenched around him, he relaxed into her eager pace. Inhibitions lowered, his mind straying to the well-worn path he rarely let himself tread.

Face striking contorted in ecstasy; a savage beauty like lightning striking the ocean. Mallowsweet scent; that soothed like a botanist's herbal balm. How perfectly her body wrapped around his own as if by design. Sebastian's teeth pressed hard against his tongue as her name danced upon it. With his eyes closed, hands held back - that shameful part of him could pretend it was her.

"Sebastian," the witch moaned. He didn't remember giving her his name. Nor asking hers. The voice he heard was not that polite West Country lilt but one conjured from Hades - his divine pleasure and punishment.

Can't let it be her.

Sebastian forced his eyes open, to look at the woman from the bar. Her neat hair, narrow shoulders and thin top lip. Only to find the lines separating fantasy from reality blurred and contorted. His stomach lurched.

Maybe he'd had more to drink than he thought.

Whiskey had crowded and garbled his senses as well as his inhibitions. Sebastian's vision was merely blurred. She looked like her. Not just in her eyes but the sloping curve of her neck, the arch of her nose, her hair longer and tangling against the neat pins that had once held it back.

It's all the whiskey.

If he could bring himself to look away from her face for even one moment he would see the room spinning. But he couldn't look away.

Those keen eyes bore into him, locked with his own and he swore they changed colour. The fire that had been smouldering within sparked, roaring, melting her irises into that familiar hue.

He didn't just have to squeeze his eyes shut to see her and pretend it was her impossibly tight walls clenching around him with every thrust.

There she was.

"You," Sebastian spluttered, disbelief tight in his chest. "No. No- It can't be you. This can't be happening." Who cares if he sounded mad? His mind was spiralled and scrambled, desperate to bring back the visage of the woman from the bar and right himself. This face; her face didn't waver. She rolled her hips once more, bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she cast her gaze down. Over her breasts and the faded scar that curled under the left from the crucio, he'd administered. Firm muscles of her legs earned from years of battle. Calloused hands of someone who knew little of comfort. All were once again her own.

Sebastian's world was spiralling, tipping on its axis. Tension in every muscle in his body. Still as beautiful as she was in his nightmares, even the ones where she tore out his heart. She clicked her tongue, amused then smiled. So wide, it bore too many teeth.

Fucking exquisite. Sebastian despised the way his heart faltered in his chest.

"Pity. I guess the kneazle's out of the bag," she purred, teeth raking sharp across his earlobe. So sharp it shocked his spiral back into sickening clarity like ice in his veins.

Like a shot, Sebastian wrapped his hand hard around her throat forcing her face away from him. Thumb pressed harshly into the corner of her jaw with his iron grip on her windpipe. Any sane woman would tremble to have his large hand like a vice around her throat in anger. Cower, under the venom in his eyes.

But she was far from sane; perhaps never had been. She gasped involuntarily choking around where his fingers so deeply pressed into her flesh, but the smile on her lips never faltered despite how he could feel the hammer of her blood against his fingertips.

"You should know I don't share," she wheezed. It wasn't the polite West Country drawl she'd adopted at the bar - but that feminine purr he knew far too well. Velvety, like a caress that sent shivers down his spine; and if it were possible simultaneously made his blood run cold and his cock impossibly stiffer where it was sheathed deep within her. She whimpered approvingly, hot breath ghosting his freckled cheeks.

"Fuck- how did you-" Choking on his groan as she expertly rolled her hips, grinding on his cock. Evil, manipulative witch. She knew exactly how to turn practically every rational thought in Sebastian's brain to smoke.

"Polyjuice. She was pretty don't you think? You seemed to like fucking her while it lasted. Maybe not as much as that curvy redhead from a few months ago...I had bruises on my thighs for weeks."

Somewhere deep in his psyche, Sebastian knew he should push her off. Bind her. Gag her. Put as much distance between himself and her and the mixed-up way she made him feel. Preferably in a cell in the deepest part of Azkaban the Ministry had long ago allocated for her when they signed the warrant for her arrest. At that moment, over the cacophony screaming through his head the only coherent thought was how to keep her desperately bouncing on his cock.

"I thought it was my turn to have some unsanctioned fun."

No - rose, bubbled and died in his throat. Caught somewhere amongst the shameful rasping groan as she began to rhythmically rock her hips. Never quite releasing her entirely, but Sebastian's grip on her throat loosened as his muscles slackened in shameful pleasure.

Using every bit of her newfound leash, she leaned forward to kiss him. Sin, like ambrosia on his tongue. Lips slotted against him, they moved in perfect harmony to a melody he wished had never been composed on his bones.

She wrapped around him as if the wild thing that she had always been had sprouted from the earth, and curled her tendrils around him. Or rather, like a constant wave beating against him she'd worn his surface. It was a marvel he hadn't crumbled into her sooner.

"You're mine you know," she cooed, her breath hot against his ear.

"I am not," Sebastian spat. But try as he might to deny it, curse her until his final breath - his words rang hollow. And he loathes himself all the more for it. She was not his any longer, but something else. Twisted by cruelty and power that simply wore the face of the woman he once loved.

Shame stirred in his gut; desire coursed through his blood.

"Denying it doesn't make it any less true. You know me blind. When my face is not my own. Fate has bound us, Sebastian. Just as I would know you in any life."

Sebastian gritted his teeth, cheek pressed against her sternum. Fingers digging into her shoulder blades, as he pounded his cock up into her harder, faster. If he was stronger, he would not be prey to her illicit designs for him - but he was not. She keened, greedy to take all he could give her. Consume him entirely if she could. Sebastian closed his eyes and cursed himself for being weak.

Vision narrowing, Sebastian groaned, low and pitiful into the curve of her neck. Ashamed of what he knew was coming. "I hate you," he cursed. Repeated it like a mantra, his lips against her sweat-salted skin as if he could transcribe the words onto her flesh.

Deep plunges into her warmth growing erratic as Sebastian's coil tightens. Her body clenched, tightening around him, with every thrust teased against her sweet spot coaxing more slick onto his cock. His punishing words merely rolled off her curves like water off a duck's back.

"S-Sebastian," her hoarse cry pierced through his resolve. Sebastian bit into her neck trying and failing to hold back from the precipice of the inevitable. Unwilling to surrender any more of himself to her. It only served to send her hurtling over the cliff. His cock buried deep inside of her, her head thrown back, cunt quivering as her climax broke. Orgasm, wracked through her in waves. Engulfing Sebastian's every sense.

Fire and Brimstone. Gentle breezes and mallowsweet.

Beauty. Terror.

Rhythm faltering, Sebastian's hips spluttered as that mounting coil finally snapped. Her name on his lips, her scent on his skin. Everything that remained of Sebastian Sallow was consumed entirely by her. He came hard - with a broken pathetic whine that forced itself from his body as he spilt inside of her.

It was no little death - it was all-consuming. A part of him would never come back from. Another piece of his soul surrendered along with what was left of his dignity.

Sebastian fought for breath. Unforgiving waters filled his chest, ice seized his joints, heart thundered as dark edges clouded his vision, threatening to drown out the light and sound. Choking on his saliva he wheezed, shoulders heaved forward violently. Fresh tears pricked in his eyes.

She shushed his soothingly, thumb tracing idle patterns on his skin with a sickening gentleness that curdled his stomach. He whined pathetically against her chest but she only gripped him harder. Fingers carded through his hair as she hummed a sweet tune peppering kisses to the crown of his chestnut hair.

Perhaps, in another life, he had the strength to overcome the guilt and sickness now seizing his bones. In another, perhaps there was no deception to be ashamed of.

He wasn't sure how long they sat entwined, soft cock still inside her, his spend leaking onto his thighs matting in the hair. When at last Sebastian's violent sobbing eased he felt the enchantment stretch across his body, taunt ropes strapped his arms to his sides, and bound his ankles. A chaste kiss against his temple as she slid from his lap.

Sebastian watched her and tried to pretend for a second, that he was not bound, she was not mad and hips swaying hypnotically as she pranced naked around their flat as she did every Sunday evening. Not his. Theirs. Another life, unstained by dark magic where she was still his.

Fussing with her dress, eyebrows pinched together, frowning as she examined the shredded yellow gown. She sighed, holding the unlaced corset over her breasts, gathering up the remnants to haul them to the kitchen island. She found his wand, with its emerald and onyx handle, the one that had belonged to his paternal great-grandfather. Back and forth she toyed with it in her hands.

"Put that down." A feeble attempt at a threat from a man bound, naked, cheeks streaked with stale tears. Tight from salt they felt stretched like a drum.

"You ruined my dress," she pouted. "The least you can do is help me fix it."

Traitorously, Sebastian's wand didn't so much as shudder in retaliation. It obeyed her easily, stitching up the splintered seams, her corset tightened, cinching at her waist. Her hairpins reorganised themselves. She looked almost like her old self, the girl she'd been at school, with a spark of fire in her eyes that mirrored his own.

"Before you go running off to the next little witch who bats her eyelashes at you, Bash. Try to remember - I don't share." She placed his wand back on the counter and slipped a canteen from her purse. She drank deeply. Gagging, hand smacking into her chest to keep down whatever foul liquid it contained.

If Sebastian had still been drunk the way her face bubbled like stew on a boil would have turned his stomach. Her lips thinned, her hair shrunk back into her scalp, her scars paled and her muscles softened. The woman from the Pub returned, exactly as he'd met her. It did nothing to quell the sickness churning in his gut.

"Au revoir mon amour." She was gone as quickly as she came, but her presence lingered like a gaping, festering wound.

Sebastian sat in the dark. Hatred for her that he cultivated in public and the private yearning he tended to as it grew like persistent weeds in his garden he tended had given way to emptiness. A void that for a time he was content to let swallow him whole as he stared at the cracks in his floor. Mourning the woman he'd loved. But most he mourned for himself, for all she took from him.

Shadows inched across the floor as dawn eventually broke. Long after the bindings had dissolved. Sebastian hadn't slept or moved for hours and his joints stiff, groaned as he got to his feet. He trudged to his bathroom and ran the water until it was scalding. Intent on scrubbing his skin raw. As if she could un-touch him.

#Please mind the tags #dark fic #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x f!mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow fanfic

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from-the-clouds · 1 year

Text

lost in the fire - kendall roy x f!reader

| masterlist | succession sideblog: @kendollroyco | my kendall playlist

chapter summary: your boyfriend works too much. a oneshot, but if we're being real, i was thinking about kendall and the reader from thinking of a place, because i miss them. pairing: kendall roy x f!reader words: 4.6k warnings: SMUT (18+ only). soft dom Kendall. Somewhat unhealthy/jealous/co-dependent relationship but this is a Succession fic so like…what do we expect? Alcohol consumption - I don't know what Kendall's definition of sobriety is but he drinks a cocktail in this. a/n: i'll get back to tlou but i've had this partially written for like a year at this point. It started out as more of a manic Ken on a power trip type of fic but then it got really soft and fluffy because I am feeling touch-deprived lately so I’m sorry if I didn’t deliver enough evil ken for ya’ll. :/ OOPS!

**ALSO! I got rid of my taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

"We're like the Lewis and Clark of fucking." - Kendall Roy

Teetering down the hallway, you attempt to quell the outrageously loud click, click, click of your stilettos against the marble floor by shifting most of your weight into the ball of your feet and shuffling forward. It only makes it harder for you to balance while you attempt to put on the flashy gold hoop earrings your friend had insisted you’d wear. Of course, being quiet didn’t really matter, because you were the only person inhabiting the Hudson Yards penthouse.

As usual, you are running late. Famously, you always underestimate how long it will take to get ready for social events – your friends could attest to that. It is a bad habit that, despite years of trying to correct, you can never quite shake.

Beelining for the double doors of the multi-million dollar home, you are interrupted by your name being called out in a sing-songy voice. There is a blur of movement out of the corner of your eye, and you turn towards the familiar sound to find your boyfriend rounding the corner, a drink in hand.

The sight of him at home is rare these days, that for a second, you aren’t even sure if it’s really him. Maybe the place is being haunted by an eerily similar lookalike, or it could be some new ridiculous billionaire technology that he’d invested in– holographic messaging, or something similarly dystopian that you’d roll your eyes at when he tries to explain it to you. It’s fuckin’ next level, I’m telling you. I’m a fucking tech pioneer. You can practically hear him trying to sell you on it despite your distaste.

“Ken?” you cling to the clutch under your arm, unable to stop the shit-eating grin that works its way onto your face. “Hey. When did you get home?”

“Hey yourself,” he answers, poorly hiding a bemused smirk behind Baccarat crystal. “I just got in.”

That much was clear, even though his briefcase and coat had already been cleared away from the table in the entranceway, and his suit jacket draped over the back of a barstool. “Are you going out?” He lowers the tumbler and leans against the counter, but still keeps it close, one finger sliding along the rim.

“Yeah,” you approach Kendall cautiously. “...did you get my text? I thought I’d get ready here, we’re going to that place around the corner.”

He’d given you a key to his flat, even though the relationship was still pretty new – but decidedly not that new, given your history. Things were still moving quickly though, if you compare him to your past flings.

Kendall’s eyes close briefly in recognition, his brows pulling together as though he is scolding himself. “Oh, uh-huh, yeah….right.” It’s then, and in closing the space between you, that his haggard appearance becomes clear. You’re one of few who would probably even notice it. To the untrained eye his white dress shirt is impeccable, crisp and stark as usual – save for the lack of cufflinks, which you notice he’s discarded on the counter alongside his drink. His tie is still fastened tightly around his neck in a perfect half-Windsor. But salt and pepper stubble is sprinkled across his jawline, faint red hazy in the whites of his amber eyes.

Work has consumed him in the last few weeks. It’s been nonstop. And he is still home earlier than you have expected, even though the sun had gone down long ago.

Kendall’s hand wraps around your waist and you lean against him, accepting his affectionate peck on the cheek. “Hey, honey.” The cedar notes of his cologne, the acidity of the vodka on his breath, and the weight of his arm around you makes your stomach flip, even as he draws back, releasing you so he can sit on a barstool. It’s probably for the better, as the impulse to throw yourself into his arms and abandon your plans will become impossible to resist if you don’t leave soon.

It would be a lie to say his career hasn’t put a strain on things lately. Business trips, dinner meetings, weekend conventions all seem determined to keep him away from you. For the past few weeks, you’ve been deprived of him, forced to accept only minutes of his time – mostly sweet nothings and apologies whispered as falls into bed beside you, then presses of his lips on your cheek, still half-asleep in the early hours of the morning as he leaves the next day. You have been forced to savor those moments, even though they are hardly substantial. But you know yourself, you aren’t better off with someone else. He has always been what you wanted.

Still, lately you have been thinking about all his failed past relationships. There is certainly a…pattern. You’ve seen enough, and sometimes it feels like you are purposely ignoring the signs – Watch Your Step!, before falling into a pit of daggers.

He needed a break or he’d burn out, but you’ve learned when to bite your tongue and save those suggestions for when you are sure they won’t erupt. And you both aren’t always good at keeping arguments good-natured.

Kendall shifts in his chair so he can look you up and down – this time up close. “Is this what you’re wearing out?”

“Uhhhh, yeah,” you answer hesitantly, feeling your face heat up.

“Turn around,” his resting facial expression is already kind of indignant, but you can tell right now that he’s definitely frowning.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says. “I want to see.”

You shrug, but obey, unable to hide the way your lips quirk when you are back facing him again, hands on your hips. All you have to do is read the look on Kendall’s face to know that he doesn’t approve. And even though there is no way in hell you are going to change, the slight blaze in his narrowed eyes makes you think this is about to become a controversy.

“Do you have a problem?” you ask, feigning innocence, glancing down at the getup. The red dress barely covers your ass – is far more revealing than anything you’d normally wear, accompanied by stiletto heels that lace up your calves. Sure, it’s a lot, but you look good, and you’re going out.

“You’ll definitely be getting a lot of attention,” he conveniently doesn’t answer your question.

If you weren’t wearing lipstick, you would’ve bit your lower lip to keep your composure. Instead, you tilt your head and give him a coy smile. “You should come with me.”

Kendall glances down at the countertop and shakes his head, the comment causing him to drop the subject of your attire entirely. “I can’t. I’ve got a meeting first thing.” To be fair, he avoids the club scene most of the time, so it’s not a well-thought-out offer. Too much temptation. “But you look good,” he concedes.

“A work meeting on a Saturday?” you ask, ignoring the compliment. “Fuck,” you reach to take a sip from his tumbler. The vodka he keeps here is always chilled to perfection, so smooth it tastes like it’s melting off a glacier. “It’s that bad?”

He takes the beverage from your hand when you return it, shrugging before throwing the rest back, then standing to pour another. “Just the usual, la-dee-fuckin-dah….corporate bullshit.”

You frown and stare at your shoes, flexing your foot and inspecting its soles.

“Those heels don’t look very comfortable,” he remarks as he passes you.

“They aren’t.”

“Well then I’ll guess I’ll have to take you shopping to replace them.”

You feel yourself flush. “Let me know when you can fit me in your schedule.”

“Uh-huh,” Kendall ignores your jab, changes the subject. “How’s your job?”

“Same as yours. La-dee-fuckin’-dah corporate bullshit,” you repeat his words from earlier, lowering your voice slightly to mimic his cadence of speaking.

The sound of his warm chuckle makes your stomach flip again. “You want me to, uh, pour you one?”

“No, I should probably get going.” You sigh, pulling out your phone to text your friends that you are running behind, and you hear the clink of ice against crystal.

Then, his voice, deep and husky, directly against your ear. “Who’re you texting?”

You jolt in surprise at his sudden proximity. “Fuck! Sorry,” you clear your throat. “Uh….the group chat.”

Kendall’s arm reaches past you to place his drink on the counter, and you feel his fingertips brush the hair away from the nape of your neck. Then, his lips follow, pressing there gently, his thumb trailing down your arm and then back up again. You shiver at the contact, and it dawns on you how touch-deprived you are.

“Pretty girl,” he murmurs against sensitive skin. His hands land on your shoulders and begin to knead at the taut muscles there. You try to keep yourself tense, even as you feel your phone slipping out of your hands, the drafted text all-but forgotten.

But instinctually, you shift backwards to feel the weight of his chest pressed against you.“You’re all wound up,” Almost chastising. Every part of your body below your bellybutton clenches. It’s those hands, his hands. Hands that used to wrap around your throat, thread into your hair, hold your wrists in place. Pin you down, spread you open…. While you think about them, you let him work at the tension that he is partially responsible for, nodding and letting out a long exhale.

“Just a little.”

“When are you gonna quit that job?” he asks you.

You first, you want to say, but let the retort die before it could leave your mouth. “Hmmmmm,” you pretend to mull it over, but you’re only half-aware of things he’s saying to you. “I don’t know.”

“What kind of uh, feminist would I be if I let a girl as hot as fucking you have to worry about a job?”

You can’t help but snort, turning your head so his forehead bumps against your own. “Is that how feminism works?”

“Uh-huh,” he chides, breath tickling the shell of your ear. “Fucking whatever. I wish you’d just let me look after you.”

You are unable to find your voice to answer, because you remember through your needy haze that you are running late, and when he says things like that, it certainly doesn’t help you regain composure. It’s only after you straighten, trying to pull yourself out of the trance he’s worked you into, that you discover how close he has pinned you to the countertop.

“Ken-” you try to protest, but the way it comes out sounds more like you’re pleading.

“What is it?” Kendall asks, returning his lips once more to your neck, beginning to work them tenderly up the column of your throat, which makes it impossible for you to finish the rest of the objection. “I’ve missed you so much,” he pulls you back against him by your waist.

“Me too,” you sigh. “But I-,” you’re cut off when he grinds against you, already half-hard, and your pelvis hits the granite lip of the countertop. It hurts, just for a second, but the pain is quickly replaced by warmth. Kendall pulls his hands away and you’re only held in place by his hips, the metal of his belt buckle cool against your sacrum. The dress you’re wearing is so thin it feels like there’s nothing separating him from your bare skin.

“You what?” he prompts when you remain silent. You know him well enough to hear the self-satisfied smirk on his face, and his nails rake up and down your arms.

It’s a little petty, but you are hesitant to give yourself over so easily to him. To abandon your evening, just because he’s finally decided to see you at a reasonable hour. Of course, if your friends knew you were late because you were with him, they wouldn’t care. Kendall had been a well-kept secret until it was impossible to deny his existence in your life. But they were all a little too supportive of the relationship, since it meant they suddenly had guaranteed access to any club VIP section - and you perpetually pick up the bill. Not to mention the first-class, luxury accommodations they get on girls trips.

There was more to it than just being late, though. You had always been willing to do anything for him, even before you were dating. He told you to jump, you asked how far? He gave you one pleading look from underneath those thick lashes – and you folded. And Kendall is very aware that he’s your weakness. So you constantly try to convince him otherwise, lest he get too comfortable. And really, after his neglectful behavior, did he really deserve you without any opposition?

“Kendall,” you manage to turn slightly. “I’m going to be late.” Wriggling some more in his grip, but it’s only enough to bring you face-to-face, looking up into his stormy eyes.

He studies you carefully, like he might let you leave if he senses enough conviction. “I don’t care.”

You might’ve laughed, if it weren’t for how stern he sounds. It almost scares you. Almost. Hoping to soften him, you fit your thumb into the dimpled fabric of his tie, and use it to drag him forward, offering a tender kiss on his cheek. Returning the embrace, his stubble scratches your face as he smiles against you. He reaches behind you for another sip of his drink and his unoccupied hand slides down your back, squeezing your ass through the silky fabric.

You are burning, fire licking up your arms, your neck, your face. It’s too much, to have him so close and not be able to have him. All the tension building with nowhere for it to go. When he pulls back, you lean forward.

It’s a little rough at first, because you are so desperate, tasting the vodka, drawing his bottom lip between your teeth. Kendall is the one who softens you, cradles your jaw to draw you closer, opens his mouth and deepens the kiss, so deliberate and practiced that you’re unable to speak when he pulls away.

“Tell me something,” full lips so close to yours that they brush your own when he speaks, your eyes fluttering shut. His touch coasts up your sides, up your arms, landing on your shoulders. “Who are you showing off for in this?” Kendall hooks his pointed finger around a spaghetti strap of your dress, and lets the elastic snap back against your skin. You savor the sting it leaves behind.

Admittedly, there’s a third reason why you’re being so withholding. He’s so spoiled, so used to getting what he wants, whenever he wants it. Not just from you. And when he doesn’t get it, he becomes petulant, fiery. You’ve learned that if you piss him off just enough, you don’t have to ask him to fuck you within an inch of your life. He just does.

So, you decide to poke the sleeping bear, shrugging and crossing your arms like it’s nothing, giving him a demure smile. “You wouldn’t know him.”

Kendall’s nostrils flare as his hand rises to grip your jaw – tightly. “Uh-huh.” Even if you’re only joking, the very idea of you dressing up at all – let alone like that – for anyone except himself, pisses him off. “Fuck you.”

“You’d like to, wouldn’t you?” you try to keep your voice even, but it sort of loses the steadiness you were hoping for when he hooks a finger behind your knee, dragging it up across the expensive, soft wool of his slacks to peg around his hip.

The bruising kiss that answers is clearly intended to erase the smug look on your face, and it works – your breath hitching, the hand on his tie tugging him closer. Kendall seems to speak without saying anything at all, grabbing your opposite thigh and lifting until you are perched on the edge of the countertop.

It’s getting real, but you still haven’t decided if you are actually going to stick around. The way he looks right now, however, swings the pendulum farther into the side of staying in – red lipstick left behind on his cheek, shirt wrinkled, tie hanging loosely around his neck. You wanted to make him look even more wrecked.

Kissing him again, his hands begin to roam, tugging the dress off your shoulders and freeing your tits. “Shit,” He dips his head to sloppily mouthing at the newly exposed skin. “Knew you weren’t wearing a fuckin’ bra.”

“Ken,” you squirm when he latches onto one of your nipples, pinching the other between two fingers. “I really need to get going.”

“Not yet,” he hums, the vibration of his voice against your skin makes the space between your legs ache. “If you’re going to go out in this fucking dress, I don’t want you to forget who you belong to.”

You squirm in his grip – not because you want to get away from him – but because you want to see if he’ll pin you in place, be even rougher. He does. He is. “Stop that. This isn’t a fucking negotiation.”

Well, okay.

He kneads into your thighs now, one of his hands dipping beneath the skirt of your dress that’s already so short he’s only an inch or so away from your already-soaked panties.

“Fuck,” You tilt your head back to look at the ceiling, like you might find some self-control there, some will to resist him, but it’s about as cold and uninspiring as the rest of the apartment. “Please.”

Kendall lets out a dark chuckle, pushing aside your thong and brushing his knuckles against your damp cunt. He loves to tease, and right now is no exception. His touch isn’t enough to satisfy, so you press yourself forward to seek it out yourself. You don’t dare meet his eyes, which you can feel are watching you intently, admiring how you keen and arch and whimper in frustration. Still, you aren’t quite ready to beg.

Thankfully, you don’t have to. Without warning, he pushes two fingers inside you, groaning as he does, his thumb finding your clit.

“Yes, Kendall, that’s–” you don’t finish the thought because you aren’t entirely sure what you actually have to say. His digits curl, attentive, practiced – tuned in to exactly what you like, what you need. You grip at the fabric of his shirt that’s bunched around his elbows. Despite how intense meeting his gaze right now will be, you turn to look at him anyway, surprised by the affection and warmth you find in his eyes.

“You try so hard not to be,” he says while he continues to stare you down. “But you’re always so fucking good for me.”

Your stomach flips, partly in shame, partly because of how good it’s always felt to be seen by him. Throbbing around him, feeling your pleasure build, but he withdraws his fingers from you before it can crest. An embarrassing noise leaves you, squeezing your eyes shut.

The clink of his belt unbuckling immediately snaps you back to reality, and you hike your dress further up your hips, shimmying out of your thong. It’s pitiful, the way you don’t want to delay any longer the feeling of him inside you.

He strokes himself in his hand, lines his cock up, and pushes a piece of hair off your face.

“You want me?” he asks, and you bob your head enthusiastically. “Tell me, then.”

“I want you, Kendall. Please, I want you so bad.”

“Yeah you do,” he mutters, and wastes no time jerking forward to enter you.

Though you’d had him plenty of times you never could quite get used to the feeling – he’s big, of course, and it’s always electric, the blood in your veins buzzing, your hands tightening on his shoulders.

“Relax, honey,” Kendall says, feeling the way your body tenses at the intrusion, placing a hand on your sacrum, one between your shoulder blades to steady you.

He presses his hips forward until they are flush against your own, bottoming out inside you, pausing. It’s welcome at first, a chance to catch your breath, to let out a shuddery exhale - temporarily appeased by the way your cunt stretches to accommodate him, and he’s so close to you after so much time spent away. You’re embarrassed at how badly you’ve needed this, how reliant on him you’ve become, but he always feels so good.

Kendall stays still for long enough that you grow frustrated, and you use his tie to pull him closer, loosening the knot and rutting against him until he presses his thumb into the crease of your hip and thigh so hard you are forced to stop. Once you do, he starts to move, thrusts slow but deep, lips pressing hastily between panting breaths.

“Fuck, it’s been too long,” he laments.

Despite everything, you can’t help but talk back. “You don’t say?”

Kendall doesn’t like that at all, his hips snapping at a punishing pace, which seems more like a reward than anything else, his hand clasping your jaw roughly, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t speak to me like that,’ he warns.

An involuntary, low moan leaves you. It’s overwhelming – always is. You aren’t used to sex with someone you feel so connected to, or with a lover who is so attentive to your needs, who effortlessly strikes a perfect balance between rough, passionate, and tender.

You wrap your legs around his waist, fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, anxious to run your hands through the smattering of hair on his chest, feel the warmth of his skin under your palms. Even if it’s not possible, you want to be closer to him. Needy. So needy. You’ve heard it from him before, and would probably hear it again. He is right, and in moments like this, you can never bring yourself to care. You like it.

He’s watching you so intently, and the rest of the city might as well be too. He basically lives in a fishbowl, you’re surrounded by windows that offer panoramic views of the glittering lights of the city. The only reason you have any privacy at all is because of just how high up you are, no one else can actually see you right now. Even if they did, what could possibly happen? Kendall loves to take advantage of this – he’s taken you up against the cold glass windows, has let you sink to your knees in front of him out on his balcony.

“What are you gonna tell your friends when they ask why you were so late tonight?” he asks. “Gonna tell them you were letting me spread you open on the fucking counter?”

“God,” you stutter out, always shocked by the things that come out of his mouth when takes you like this, voice deep and firm, enunciating each syllable like he’s giving a speech – frustratingly collected. It makes you ache that much more. “I missed you,” you whimper, pulling his shirt off his shoulders. As much as you want it fully off, not just hanging loose around his elbows, you don’t want him to release you from the bruising hold he’s got you in. This would have to do.

“Uh-huh,” Kendall answers by fucking into you even harder, his pelvic bone kissing your clit with every thrust, and your nails etching crescents into his biceps. “I know. I’m sorry.”

His head falls to your shoulder in a brief moment of humility, lips working on your neck, and you feel your release fast approaching. In moments like these, you don’t doubt how he really feels. He gives it all away, tries his best to make it up to you, and it’s so easy to forgive him. Kendall’s fist wraps around one of the stiletto heels of your shoes, lifting your leg to hook over his shoulder and drive his cock deeper into you. He’s perfect, feels perfect, there’s no one else who makes you feel the way he does. When his thumb begins to rub delicate circles around your clit, you’re gone.

Your body tenses up for so long, you actually think you might’ve psyched yourself out. And then everything releases. Kendall coaxes you through your orgasm, deep voice muttering things that are either unintelligible or that you wouldn’t dare to repeat out loud, and you cling to him while your cunt pulses in waves. It lasts for a long time, or at least it feels like it does, he slows just to fuck you through it, so you can both savor how good it feels. That’s it. That’s my good fucking girl. When he tries to kiss you, you oblige, but it’s open-mouthed and sloppy since you’re struggling to breathe and can’t stop whispering his name.

“Ken, you’re so good, it’s so good–”

You know he likes to be praised just as much as you do. He cuts you off with a deep kiss, moaning into your mouth and vibrating every nerve in your body as he follows you over the edge, spurred on by your own release. He buries his cock inside you as deep as he can, you feel warm and full and complete.

For what feels like a few minutes, you remain tangled with one another, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You can feel the soft puffs of his breathing against your skin, which is now damp.

Eventually, he draws back, kisses your cheek and tucks himself back into his underwear. You pull the straps of your dress back into place and when you push yourself off the counter, realize your legs are trembling and you wobble.

Kendall reaches to steady you. “Go sit down,” he squeezes your arm and you barely manage to stumble to his couch before you’re slumping against the cushions and struggling to unlace the strappy heels you’ve still got on.

He joins you a moment later, placing a glass of cold water on the coffee table and kneeling to help you out of your shoes. You can only imagine what you must look like, because he looks disheveled, shirt still hanging open, pants unbuttoned, your lipstick still smudged on his cheek. Exhausted as you are, it makes you want him all over again.

He settles next to you, pulls you to his chest, and you wrap your arms around his waist, leaning up to whisper softly in his ear. “Ken,” he turns his head slightly, cheek pressed against your forehead. “I love you.”

From this angle you can only see the corner of his eyes, the way they crinkle as he looks down bashfully, eyelashes nearly touching his cheeks at your admission, words he so rarely has heard before. Words you have vowed to repeat until he believes you – because sometimes you think he doesn’t. Still, he answers. “I love you, too.” You close your eyes a moment, your heart rate returning to normal, and take in one final deep breath. Content.

“I don’t want to keep you from your friends,” Kendall says eventually, hands in your hair, tugging gently so you’ll look up at him.

“Right,” you nod. “Honestly, I don’t know if I even want to go out anymore.”

“But you got all dressed up,” he smirks.

“Look where it got me.”

He laughs. “Uh-huh. You knew what you were doing what you fucking put that shit on.”

You don’t deny it, feeling your cheeks grow warm. It’d be too easy to stay with him, to slide across his lap and kiss him until he takes you again. But your phone dings on the counter, and you know you can’t abandon your friends entirely. You sigh, pulling away from Kendall and looking him in the eyes.

“Don’t worry,” he encourages. “I’ll wait up for you.”

#succession #succession writing #kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy imagine #kendall roy smut #kendall x reader alliance please rise!!!!

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eosincuffs · 6 months

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This drabble is my first writing piece, idk if I’ll make it into a fic. I started writing down some thoughts and an exposition for myself and then I was like, this might make a nice lil prologue. Idk tho im a virgin in this. So if what here’s and obligatory ‘pls leave me be, im learning ;-;’

Dishonourably discharged 141 quartet! (also this is an xReader thought I promise)

0.7k words

Their last mission was an unfortunate, grievous endeavour. A negotiation of high profile hostage releases in an abandoned multi-story factory which turned out to be a trap. Even if it cost the terrorist organisation the lives of extraordinarily important extortion-able victims the notorious 141 needed to be wiped at whatever costs, which meant sacrifices had to be made.

Only no-one, not even himself, expected Price to chuck the bomb-covered man off the ledge, 2 stories down to where the hostages were held. It was a split second decision made to save the lives of his men and deal with the consequences later. And deal with the consequences they did. The explosion ripped apart the lower floor indiscriminate of flesh or rusted steel. The old, battered building caved in on itself momentarily, engulfing everything within into a black hole of scrap, wire and human cadaver.

By some miracle, although festering with wounds and decorated with jutted broken bones like arrows out their skin, the 141 lived to tell the tale. Undoubtedly, this would get them discharged for “on the field injuries”. And yes, they were supposed to be medically discharged . It was disappointing that their military careers (their sole drive in life) was over, but, yes, they were supposed to get a fat pension, full healthcare coverage for immediate family, veteran discounts for everything from groceries to mortgages and awards for their sacrifices. They were supposed to live the rest of their lives relaxing, hunting, pursuing unfinished dreams and/or hobbies.

Except the son of one of the hostages rallied the other victim’s families together and incriminated Price for manslaughter. The boys weren’t about to throw their Captain under the bus, disputed the charge despite Price’s pleading, and got incriminated by association. It wasn’t fair, but they were never going to win a trial against a pack of multi-billionaires, no matter the accusation or its validity. There was one small mercy though; because of their connections in the military they were dishonourably discharged instead of imprisoned (and considering that blood and money turn the world, it would probably been for a lifetime). Their records and achievements were wiped, awards taken away. They were left unfit for any veteran benefits and with chronic pain and injuries as the final nail in the coffin, unwanted souvenirs from that god forsaken mission.

Overtaken with hatred and disappointment from both the traumatic event and the experience of their metaphysical lives ending the men unwillingly closed this chapter: abandoned, empty, changed.

Ghost much like his callsign disappeared in the first week after they split, no contact, no goodbye, no nothing.

Gaz went to live with his relatives, trying to figure out his next step.

Price hunkered down with a former military friend and his family.

Soap moved back into his elderly, struggling mother’s small cottage. It’s the reason he went into the military in the first place, to help support his family.

They all knew these were temporary arrangements. The army was their life; no branch or association would take them now, not with the bold, damning DD stamped on their papers. But very little quality employers wanted mentally traumatised men whose chronic and psychic pain rendered them unable to do blue collar work. Yet, non had the education or the drive to be employable in a more specialised, less physical sector.

Was this the end?

Maybe. But the sun shone on Soap’s meadow, illuminated his life and showed him a new way out. He was at the right place, at the right time and managed to bump into you. You really should have just kept walking. Taking pity on the blue-eyed puppy, kicked in the teeth over and over by life’s unforgiving boot should have been a noble act. But feed a dog once and it will keep coming back, and unfortunately, this one has a rabid pack.

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natalie668 · 3 months

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Lost Girl

Lost boys fanfic, will be multi-chapter fic.

Lost boys (Michael as well) x reader.

Watching them through your dream had you worried, most people have 1 or 2 soulmates. You believed 3 is the max amount recorded, yet here you are dreaming of 5 men, well if you can call guys in their 20's men.

Sitting up in bed, you peered over at your phone. It hadn't long stopped beeping its annoying tune, it's 7am and you had to hurry up and get ready for work. Rubbing your eyes you swing your legs over the side of the bed, you peer down at the 5 names written on your arm; Michael, David, Marko, Paul & Dwayne. Supposedly the order of names in when you will meet each of them.

You have yet to meet a single one of your soulmates, but you guessed that having only just had your birthday 2 weeks prior it wouldn't really give you much time to have met them anyway.

Walking out of your quaint little bedroom, you make your way over to the bathroom, stripping off you begin turning the knob on the shower toas hot as it can go, (which really is pitiful) the landlord still hasn't been and fixed it even though you had alerted him to the fact its been playing up since you had moved in when you'd turned 20. You guess you can't rush these things.

After you've gotten yourself ready, you set off to work, you've been working as a receptionist in a Library since you had turned 18. You had been to college and finished between the time of finishing high school and turning 21.

As you make your way through the busy town, you can't help but sigh seeing the various couples holding hands making their own ways to work. Every day you see it, heck you even see it with working in the library. You can't help but just wish that one day you'd meet your own soulmates.

The work day went quickly, answering phones, scanning books through which people came and dropped off, passing books onto those who placed them on the correct shelves.

There was a thunder storm wracking through the sky as you made your way home, you were not going to spend a fortune getting a taxi and get stuck in traffic just to go 7 streets over. just as your were rushing past a tree when an almighty bright light shot straight in front of you hitting the tree a massive crack was the last thing you heard and an almighty pain and didn't see again.

~*~*~*~*~

The first thing you heard was screams, and the second thing you noticed was the fact you were lying on a beach, you could feel the grains of sand underneath your fingers, peering down at yourself you were wearing the same clothes you had gone to work in, yet you were nowhere near home, the nearest beach was 200 miles away and you don't think you would have not noticed going in a car to get there. So where the hell were you.

Standing up brushing the sand off my clothes, I looked towards where I could make out some steps, I set off to see where the hell I had turned up.

As soon as I got to the steps I could see rides, people dressed like they were from the 80s and a lot of people running around. I stumbled forward heading towards a shop which I could see had a newspaper stand out front like I'd seen in American movies. I peer in and spot the year 1987, I stared in shock, I looked to the top corner, it said 'Santa Carla' I felt like I was going to throw up, I could feel myself getting light headed. I stumbled over to a bench and placed my head in my hands.

I had somehow ended up in America in the late 80s, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!?

I peered around trying not to throw up, my brain was going a million miles a minute, how the hell had I gone back in time. The last thing I remembered was walking home in the thunder storm and seeing a bright light and then nothing.

I panic, feeling my chest, my arms trying to find burn marks, nothing appeared to be on me, 'I must have died' I couldn't help thinking. 'How else would I have ended up going back in time, to freaking America'. A sob escaped my lips, I couldn't believe this was really happening, I pinched myself sharply on the arm to double check I wasn't dreaming.

I stand up from the bench when I finally feel like my heart isn't going to beat out of my chest, I slowly walk down what appears to be some sort of boardwalk, I get towards the end and lean against some metal bars which over looked the sea. Wiping the tears from my face I start to worry about where I am going to sleep tonight, how I'm going to live.

A sharp pain slices through my arm, I look down at my arm, the name 'Michael' is practically glowing red'. Turning around I spot another person grabbing their arm in pain, his eyes meet my own, his head turns to look me in the eyes as he steps towards me, "Hi, I'm Michael," he says as he takes a tentative step towards me. You can tell he's nervous, hell; I'm nervous. I've just gone back in time, and now I'm meeting on of my soulmates?!

"Uhm, nice to meet you, I'm Y/N" I say stumbling over my words, I look him up and down, he's pretty; wild dark hair, dark eyes. He's beautiful. I can't help but feel plain while stood next to him.

He steps towards me, his hand caresses my arm, in the spot where my soulmate mark is, he looks towards my arm and spots the names written on there. A frown marred his features, he slowly takes in the names; his frown turns into a scowl. It makes his face seem to take a different look, his eyes seeming to yellow out of nowhere, which surely must be the light?

His fingers grasp my wrist bringing it closer to his face, he looks up at me, "I think you should come with me, y/n." he says as he looks around at his surroundings like he's expecting someone to jump out at any moment.

Chapter 2

#the lost boys paul #the lost boys dwayne #lost boys1987 #lost boys x reader #lost boys poly x reader #lost boys 1987 #the lost boys marko #the lost boys david #the lost boys fanfiction #lost boys #the lost boys #david x reader #Dwayne x reader #marko x reader #paul x reader #vampire fanfiction

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deepfivetraveller · 13 days

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King Baldwin x Time!Traveler!reader

chapter 1

Okay I’m a little new to writing romance so please take it easy on me. This fic was inspired by this creators fic so please check them out! Btw I’ll try to keep y/n as neutral as possible but since this is set in the ancient era and religion is very important, y/n shall be hinted as being Hindu since that’s the only one that seems neutral in this situation.

“Alright that's all for the lesson. And since its complete I expect all of you to be thorough with ‘Life of King Baldwin iv’ during this weekend since there will be a test on this very topic next wednesday. Have a great weekend by the way.” The professor stands up and closes his laptop and all the other students start packing up.

“He had a pretty hard life didn’t he?” One of your friends chimes in. You look at her unsurprised. “You mean king Baldwins?”

“Duh! Poor man suffered an incurable disease almost his entire life! Imagine having skin infested in bacteria, euggh!” She recoils in disgust. “Imagine the cure to that disease being bacteria itself! Pretty sure Leprosy can be cured using multi antibiotic therapy.” Another friend joins in the conversation. You finished packing up your bag so you get up. “But no matter what, you gotta respect him. He never used his illness as an excuse to be a bad king.”

“That’s true….” Your first friend agrees. “He’s tough. When I catch a normal cold I give up all of my responsibilities since I’m sick. Wonder how hard it must have been for him.” All of you exit the classroom. A few minutes go by and topics have changed. A fun conversation lasted for a while before it was time to go, so you three parted ways.

As you entered your home your first thought was to take a cold shower after a long, hot and sweaty day. While eagerly hopping into the shower you get reminded of the conversation you had with your friends a while ago. What did king Baldwin even look like? There were no images in your textbook. Curiosity got the best of you, making you draw back the shower curtains to leave. You wrapped a towel and went towards the table where you kept your mobile, typed a quick ‘King Baldwin the 4th images’ and hit enter. Two images popped up. One being an actual painting from the 12th century while the other being an image reconstructed by scientists which looked…realistic to say the least.

His face in the second photo was majestic. His mouth and nose were almost non-existent, having only two triangular shaped holes instead of a nose. His skin was dry, withered and stretched while having the hue of a dry leaf during autumn. Even though he was severely disfigured his eyes were pure and bright, having a child like innocence towards them. King Baldwin was…Quite handsome.

Okay that’s enough now snap out of it! It’s probably just some AI prompt message image anyway. If anyone found out you found him handsome they’d call you crazy. Plus now is not the time to fangirl over a dead king, now's the time to study. In an attempt to distract yourself you pick up your books to do work. Hours painfully go by as you study but finally, finally it was bedtime. You could care less about eating dinner or even taking a shower, you plop yourself onto your bed and wrap the soft blanket around your body. Thoughts about King Baldwin strike your mind again. Seriously, what's wrong with you?! Why is this man plaguing your thoughts all day?

A sigh escaped your mouth from irritation. If only it was possible to console him for his losses or better yet, cure him entirely. The world would have been a better place if he had the lifespan of a normal man.

But there is no point thinking about this, time to go to bed now. As you try to go to sleep your body keeps doing the fake fall thing, annoying you to the core. And finally when your bodys heartbeat was steady and your breathing was quiet, your body did that fake fall thing again but this time it was actually a real fall.

Eyes widen as you try to grab onto the air to prevent your fall but of course, you fail. Adrenaline rushes through your veins for that split second before you finally make an impact on the cobblestone path?

Owch! That fall really hurt, especially at the back of your shoulders! You hope it’s not bruised there. But after that reality check, you look around only to find yourself in some village?

You can see a few small huts and buildings beyond the grassy field. Where are you? How are you here? Why are you here? Too confused and dazed from the fall, you try to look around for people for help. That is until a holographic screen with text pops up.

Congratulations Ms. Y/n. Your wish to cure King Baldwin has been approved by the ₦ł₥฿Ʉ₴฿₳Ʉ₦Ʉ₴. You are now at Jerusalem, Year: 1181.

“What?”

Yes it’s true Ms.Y/n, you really are in the 12th century.

Your blood is now boiling in anger. “Just because….Someone wishes pity over a dead king DOES NOT ACTUALLY MEAN THEY WANT TO CURE HIM!” You try to grab onto the screen to shake it vigorously but your hands go right thru.

Now now, let’s calm down and try to get over with this together I’m sure we’ll find a solution.

“Calm down…CALM DOWN?!?!?!? I’m in the middle of nowhere in Jerusalem during the 12th century and you want me to CALM DOWN???? I don’t even know French and not to mention I’M NOT CHRISTIAN!” You were screaming with your hand in the air. Pretty sure you woke someone up.

Y-Yes but that’s why I’m here. Don’t worry about communication, the language module for french had been uploaded into your brain while you fell here.

The screen flickers a little, maybe due to fear.

Uploaded knowledge? “But I’m a woman from the 21st century! I can’t live here! I’m wayy to accustomed to the privileges of my time!”

That’s one of my perks miss! By using currency of this time you may purchase products of your time thru me! The screen changes to an online store. For now you have access to basic necessities like food and clothes. As you complete missions you shall unlock other parts of the online market! The screens display brightness increases due to enthusiasm, convinced it has impressed you.

You however look at it in exasperated shock. “How is this even possible?” You say with dread in your voice. “Who sent me here?” You ask, no, demand.

Like I said You’ve been sent here by ₦ł₥฿Ʉ₴฿₳Ʉ₦Ʉ₴. I’m pretty sure you can’t read that since mortals don’t have the capacity to….

Mortals? Is this the play of some higher being? God even? Too many questions float through your head, making you visibly tired. You can feel the bottom of the skin beneath your eyes folding, an indicator you’re developing dark circles.

Ah. It looks like you’re tired. It’s night anyway. You should sleep.

“But where do I-”

“Excuse me madam.” You turn around to see a man standing behind you. “I’ve noticed you’ve been talking to yourself.”

So he can’t see the screen. From his ragged outfit he seems to be a commoner. He also genuinely seems worried so you guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask for help.

“Yes, sorry for that.” You say embarrassingly while you get up. “You see I’m from the family of wandering traders, here to sell spices from my land. I was talking to myself since I was quite irritated at how I didn’t have an inn for the night.” The explanation seems responsible enough I guess.

“But I don’t see any goods with you… And how did a young lady such as yourself travel alone? Where is your husband?”

Crap. He’s doubting you. You need to give him a reasonable explanation fast or he’ll call you a witch or something.

“Oh no sir you’re mistaken! My father is the one who has the spices, it’s his business after all. We had to split ways during travel due to inconveniences, I’m merely here to help him!” You put on your best smile to convince him.

“O-Oh I’m sorry madame! H-Here let me lead you, I know an Inn nearby.” Good. Looks like he believes you. But now it’s your turn.

“I’m sorry sir but how can I trust you?” You step back a little. “What if you take advantage of me? How shall I testify my innocence? The locals would definitely believe you over me.”

“No no please don’t! I’m a married man. My wife’s right there.” he points at the lady standing just outside the house, looking worried. You look at her and she nods her head in reassurance. “You seem like a noble from your land madame judging from your colorful dress, why don’t the both of us show you where the inn is?”

Hmm….Guess colorful clothing is rare here. And he really does seem like he wants to help.

“Very well then. Both of you show me they way.” The man eagerly tells his wife the incident and both of them show you around. The screen follows you, showing you a winking emoticon.

Congrats Ms. Y/n! You have officially begun your first mission!

#king baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven #baldwin x reader #baldwin of jerusalem #kingdom of heaven 2005 #baldwin iv x reader #baldwin iv x oc #king baldwin x you #king baldwin x reader #the leaper King #koh fandom #edward norton

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bg-brainrot · 5 months

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"Hugs for a Vampire" - Astarion x GN!Reader - Series Masterlist

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, cw: Alcohol, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence, cw: blood, cw: Astarion's entire backstory, cw: mentions of nudity, discussions about consent, spoilers for the whole game

Series WC: 36k words, 18 chapters

Summary: Following the course and growth of Tav x Astarion's relationship through a serious of off-screen hugs (and one on-screen hug). Covering awkward, happy, sad, and angsty hugs including After the House of Healing, Before the Assault on Moonrise, Before Reaching Baldur's Gate, and more!

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Author’s Notes: I'm bringing over some of my multi-chapter fics from AO3, so if you've already read this, ty I love you and appreciate you so much! This was my first long!fic, and remains very near and dear to me because, by the gods, does Astarion need a hug (or 18). I will continue to add chapters as I format them, but the full fic is available on AO3 here if you're feeling like a binge.

Chapters:

Chapter 1: After Raiding the Goblin Camp

This hug takes place during the party with the tieflings, after raiding the Goblin Camp. Both Tav and Astarion are interested in each other, but love isn't in the air yet. Welcome to the awkward, uncomfortable first hug.

Chapter 2: After Fighting Grym

Their second hug takes place after a tough battle. A painful hug, but comforting nonetheless.

Chapter 3: After the House of Healing

Tav has realized their feelings (covered in Failed a Dex Save and Fell for You) and Astarion has caught them. We're looking at a cautious little half hug, where Tav knows more about him, but isn't quite sure how to comfort him yet.

Chapter 4: After Encountering Araj

Set in Act 2 after infiltrating Moonrise and meeting Araj, a retelling of the Act 2 romance with some extra dialogue. The only canon-hug!

Chapter 5: After the Self-Same Trial

After their mutual feelings are shared, Astarion and Rogue!Tav are relearning how to act around each other. A kiss-hug combo!

Chapter 6: Before the Assault on Moonrise

A feeding-hug for Rogue!Tav and Astarion. They're still working out how to act around each other, with Astarion setting the boundaries.

Chapter 7: Before Chasing Ketheric Thorm

Rogue!Tav is feeling the stress of Moonrise Towers, meanwhile Astarion has realized how nice cuddling is.

Chapter 8: After Defeating Ketheric

After defeating Ketheric and learning the truth of the Absolute, Tav feels a lot of feelings.

Chapter 9: Before Reaching Baldur's Gate

Set during that one rest between Act 2 and Act 3 -- they talk about consent a bit, establishing their hug-boundaries.

Chapter 10: After a Love Test

Set at the start of Act 3, time with a dyrad leads to some jealousy and some fluff.

Chapter 11: After Meeting Petras and Dal

Set in early Act 3, Rogue!Tav and Astarion encounter Astarion's siblings.

Chapter 12: After Entering Baldur’s Gate

Set in early Act 3, the group finally arrives in the city! Astarion marvels at its sight.

Chapter 13: Before Facing Cazador

Set in Act 3, set prior to facing Cazador (part of the Pale Elf questline). Rogue!Tav and Astarion face some of the his past.

Chapter 14: After Defeating Cazador

Set in Act 3, the conclusion of the Pale Elf questline, Rogue!Tav needs to find just the right moment to support Astarion.

Chapter 15: After Visiting Astarion’s Grave

After the Act 3 romance scene, Rogue!Tav and Astarion enjoy a soft moment together.

Chapter 16: Before the End

Set right before the end, Rogue!Tav and Astarion discuss their future. Rogue!Tav is determined to not make Astarion's decision for him.

Chapter 17: After Your Victory

Less canon-compliant than the rest, timeline shifting was needed here, but set after defeating the brain. Astarion realizes that he's not alone, not when Rogue!Tav and his companions are there for him.

Bonus Hug Chapter 18: At Withers' Party

An epilogue hug! Astarion sees Rogue!Tav giving out hugs and wants one of his own.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #rogue + rogue #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion fluff #astarion masterlist #hugs for a vampire #hfav #gn reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion baldurs gate #bg3 astarion

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bad-and-drawn-that-way · 4 months

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Electric Love - Full Chapters

Want early chapters? Read on Ao3!

Chapter 2: Pleasantly Surprised

Notes: Support me by reading on Ao3! Kudos and comments help motivate me to see multi-chapter fics through to the end! I'll be posting announcements for the updates here. Chapters will come out on Ao3 BEFORE tumblr.

Word Count: 6863

"You want to make a deal," Vox realized, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly, and dead pixels flickered to life under his lip. This just got so much more interesting for him.

You lean back and cross a leg over your thigh. "Exactly. But I’ll have you know Mr. Big Evil Overlord, I’m nothing if not ambitious. If you think I’ll hand over something like this for just my life, then you won’t be getting shit."

“And remind me why I shouldn’t just kill you before you have the chance to blab?” Vox smirked as his eyes flickered over you like a shark considering its prey.

“Because you have no way of knowing if I’ve uploaded the information somewhere,” you grin back. “You don’t know if I’ve told anyone. You don’t know if I’ve written it down. You’d have no guarantee someone else wouldn’t find the clues I’ve left behind.”

“You’re not a total idiot,” Vox chuckled. “What is it you want then?”

“How about this,” you start slowly. What you wanted was something you doubted Vox would be willing to get involved with. Still, you had a golden opportunity in front of you and you’d be a fool to not at least try.

“I know you snooped through my computer, so you already know I have quite a few friends in Valentino’s studio,” you sigh. “Not all of them are exactly pleased with their contracts, so here’s the deal. I’ll tell you how I resisted your magic if you promise to make Valentino terminate their contracts.”

“That’s it?” Vox grumbled as he thought it over. You weren’t expecting the easy grin as he shrugged. “We’re definitely talking over the details, but that’s simple enough.”

You blink, surprised at how ready he was to throw his companion under the bus for his own gain.

"You'd fuck over your closest friend, lover, fuck-buddy, business bitch for this?" You say, unsure of what to call Valentino. There were a lot of rumors about the ever-shifting relationship between Vox and Valentino.

"Without a second thought." Vox grinned, not showing any kind of remorse or hesitation in his voice. "A few of Valentino's fuck toys in exchange for knowing what can repel my hypnosis? It's a no-brainer."

"That's fucked up," you blink slowly. "But from a business perspective, I guess I can understand that." You hum as you think it over.

"Hm..." Vox nodded, thinking about the deal you were offering. "And the reason you want Valentino's contract on those souls to be released… It’s only because they’re your friends?”

"Yup," you sigh as you look down at the floor. "Not all of the friends I have in that circle want their contracts canceled. I can't say I understand, but that's their choice. However, some are desperate for a fresh start. I'm willing to do anything for them to have that."

"Why do you care so much about the well-being of other sinners?" Vox asked, looking at you with raised eyebrows.

You quirk an eyebrow back at him. "Why not?"

"So, you're just helping them out of the kindness of your heart?” Vox asked in disbelief. “No other external motives or personal gains at all?"

Your face scrunches up, "More or less, but I don't like it being phrased like that. Makes it seem… I don’t know. Just don’t dwell on it. It’s what any non-jackass would do."

"And you think you're a non-jackass?" Vox said with a sneering smirk. He didn't believe that you were helping those other sinners for nothing more than just the kindness in your heart. This was Hell. No one did that.

"I try," you snort as he shoots your phrasing back at you. "There are enough people in Hell doing their best to be the biggest asshole. With what little energy I have, I'd rather just focus on my passions and be nice to the people around me. It's a lot less tiring to be a decent person than a jerk."

Vox said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "That sounds fishy as fuck. You have to realize that. For all I know, you could be deceiving me right now with that sweet facade of yours."

"Do you really care what kind of person I am?" You sigh, growing uncomfortable with an overlord like him putting your personality under a microscope. "Regardless of my personal preferences, I have something you want, and you have the power to give me something I want. Plus, if I was trying to fuck you over, I wouldn't have let you go through my computer,” you add for extra measure.

"That's true," Vox said, nodding his head slightly in acknowledgment. "But I still refuse to believe that a sinner like you is only doing this out of the goodness of your heart. You must be getting something else out of it. What is it?"

You huff, getting frustrated. "I don't know what you want me to say, man. I just don't like seeing my friends suffer. Why is that such a hard pill for you to swallow?"

"Because it doesn’t make sense," Vox said his eye twitching in irritation that mirrored your own as he tried to figure out what you were planning. He didn’t like the idea of making a deal when he felt he didn’t have the full picture.

"Are you seriously telling me you wouldn't do the same for your friends?” You ask, finding yourself questioning his character just as much as he was questioning yours. “The other Vees?”

"Hmm..." Vox said, raising a hand to his chin and rubbing it back and forth as he took a moment to consider your words. He was standing here seriously considering screwing over Valentino. But he knew that the deal he was considering wasn’t of any real consequence to the other overlord. Vox had a hard time imagining what it would be like to have a mindset like the one you had. It was stupid on a fundamental level in his opinion, but he could see your point.

"Actually..." Vox said, finally replying to your question. "I suppose I would."

"Fucking hell," you say as you slump against your seat. "Finally."

"But..." Vox said, a smirk slowly returning to his face. He was on the cusp of believing you, but he wanted to see what would happen if he pushed your buttons just a little more. He’d be lying if he didn’t find a tinge of amusement at your frustration. "There is still this one, small, tiny, insignificant little detail that you're keeping to yourself... What is it?"

You groan as you resist the urge to grab Vox’s stupid bow tie and strangle him. "Oh my gooood, dude! I'm not like you! I'm not some big conniving evil mastermind! I'm a broke bitch who's living off of ramen noodles and discount veggies, who likes the people she gets high with on the weekend, and would like to not see them suffer. It's not rocket science!"

Vox's head tilted slightly forward, not bothering to hide his smirk as he got closer. "But to go so far as to develop an anti-aphrodisiac out of kindness? That's a whole new level of cotton candy bullshit. The only other person like that in Hell is Lucifer’s little bitch and unlike her, you ended up in Hell for a reason.”

"I'm going to kick your ass if you don't drop this," you sigh as you drag a hand down your tired face. "Do you want to make the deal or not?"

Vox smirked at how easy it was to work you up. Deciding not to push any harder before he had you locked under contract, he finally relented. "Alright. I won’t kill you for everything you’ve shown me today. I will convince Valentino to cancel the contracts that you ask me to, but only if you reveal to me how one may repel or counteract my hypnosis and agree to never tell another soul what you know."

You let out a deep breath. "Finally, fucking Christ."

Your eyes glow as you activate your magic. Stars and purple mist appear around you as you reach out your hand. Like any other sinner, your magic reacted to the binding contracts that made hell function. Anyone could make a deal, and the magic made it so you couldn't back out. No one could be trusted, and it was the only way to guarantee someone wouldn’t go back on their word.

You hold your hand out for him to shake. Once he did, the deal would be sealed, and you'd both have to hold up your end of the bargain.

“One last thing,” Vox adds as he recalls the pictures he’d seen on your computer. “I may be able to convince Val to drop most of the deals, but there’s no way he’ll relent his hold over Angel Dust.”

You frown, your hand flinching back as you think it over. As much as it pained you, Vox had a point. Angel Dust was different from anyone else under Valentino’s control. You had hoped Vox wouldn’t have come to the same conclusion you had before making the deal, but he wasn’t an overlord for nothing.

Vox waited a moment to see if you’d back out. When you let out a deep sigh and looked up at him, extending your hand again, he smirked. You were both one of the dumbest and smartest lower-class sinners he’d run into. It was refreshing and made him all the more curious about the accidental discovery.

He took your hand and shook it, and his bright electricity lit up the room as the binding magics of Hell seeped into your minds and bodies. You were now both bound by soul to honor the contract. Vox didn't let go of your hand, though, as his intense stare continued to penetrate your eyes. “Now then…”

A weight feels like it’s been lifted off of your chest now that you know you’re safe and you managed to help at least some of the people you cared about. You smirk at Vox, not bothering to try and pull away. "Unlike with Valentino, your ability doesn't need magic to repel. Try using it on me right now."

"As you wish," Vox said, glaring into your eyes once again as he tried to use his hypnosis on you. Even though he already expected it, the fact that it didn't work still unnerved him. He didn’t like the idea of Hell being able to slip out of his grasp. He was already paranoid enough as is with the return of Alastor.

There was a brief flicker of control, proving once again that you weren’t immune. However, it disappeared in an instant and your eyes didn't change to red and black spirals like the usual victim of his power. Instead, your hand tightened on his and your smirk grew as you proved your point.

"Interesting..." Vox said, staring at you with a mixture of skepticism and admiration. True to your word, he sensed no flare-up of your abilities or anything of the sort. “Now tell me how you do that.”

You let go of his hand and pull out your phone. You don't say anything to him, leaving him in suspense as you scroll through your pictures. Vox’s anxious energy only grows as he waits for you to show him what you’re looking for.

He’s not expecting the quiet chuckle when you find it, nor is he expecting to see the image in front of him as you turn your phone for him to look at. It's a picture of Vox from many many years ago. An old photo of him when he was still new to Hell and a completely different person. His TV head was an older model and instead of holding himself with sinister confidence, he was timid, frail, and honestly? Extremely dorky.

"I- h-how did you find this photo…?" Vox said, his facial expression softening slightly as you showed him the photo. He wasn’t expecting the flood of conflicting emotions. Embarrassment, rage, and… a tinge of nostalgia.

"I stumbled across it on a forum when I was studying overlords," you say, before blinking and quickly correcting yourself. “Not the ones for Eternal. This was just some normal history of hell thread on a public domain.”

You took back your phone from him and smirked as you pocketed the device. "You crazy fuckers are great inspiration for character design. The outfits, the abilities, the psycho agendas. All of it is fantastic for creative inspiration.”

You lean back to sit on your desk as you shrug. "Once I saw that picture, I realized that you used to be just like anyone else regardless of who you are now. Confused and scared. After that, the hypnosis hidden in your products and media stopped working on me. It's not that I was scared of you before, it's just now I don't think I could be without reason.”

Vox stared at you with a look of mild shock and disbelief. This was the first time in decades that someone had acknowledged the fact that he was once a normal human being on Earth. A person who was lost and scared and wanted nothing more than to find their place in the world. The nostalgia he felt from seeing himself in that photo brought back a flood of emotions he quickly tried to stomp down before you noticed.

"Valentino's abilities are based on a chemical reaction, while yours is based on psychological origins. There's no magic counterpart to your abilities,” you say as you deliberately ignore the flash of emotion on his face. It wasn’t your place to push. “It just depends on the mindset of who you're using it on. That's probably why if you were to try using it on Alastor or another overlord, it wouldn’t work either."

"This whole time, it’s been something so… simple?" Vox thought about it for a minute. He felt a spike of panic as he thought about how easily Hell could simply stop falling under his spell if Alastor made a fool of him again. “Then… what’s stopping a̸l̶l̶ ̵o̶f̴ ̸H̶e̵l̶l̵ from realizing..? F̴̡̉ṷ̶͊c̶̲̀k̸̠͗!̸̤͆”

You flinch as Vox starts to short-circuit. The way his body jerked and his voice glitched out, it looked painful. That being said, if anyone asked, you’d deny it as much as you could that the change in his voice didn’t make you feel a certain way though.

"You pull them in with charisma, instant media serotonin, and promises of things that will benefit them,” you find yourself reassuring the overlord before he has a panic attack in your tiny office. “They want to look. They want to listen. They want to be convinced."

You give your best smile and do little jazz hands at him dryly, "In short, capitalism, bitch."

Vox barks out a harsh laugh, glitching again before his systems seem to calm down slowly. You had a point. Even if people one day stopped fearing him, Vox had what people wanted. He had the confidence, he had the charm, he had the products. He had power.

"So, if I'm to understand you correctly…” he stated slowly as he tried to talk himself down from losing it in front of a stranger. “The reason why my hypnosis doesn't work on you is because you don’t fear me outside of circumstance and you don’t want anything from me aside from something that isn’t actually for you. So what? You’re a sinner who doesn't care about material possessions? You just do your own thing and don't care about anything else? That’s it?"

"Mm, I wouldn't say that entirely," you hum as you cross your arms. "There are plenty of things I want. I'm still just a person like anyone else. It's just that since I understand the motives and origin of the source pulling the strings, I can just… walk around them."

"Interesting... very interesting..." Vox mumbled, thinking over this. It was a completely new mindset that he had never even considered before. His hypnosis relies upon the desire for material possession and a sense of power at the expense of others. But you somehow managed to counter his hypnosis through willpower alone.

He wondered just how far that mentality could be pushed. "So, when you say there are things that you want..."

You quirked an eyebrow at him, feeling a shift in his demeanor that made you feel somewhat uneasy. "Yeah…?”

"I'm just curious,” Vox grinned as he changed his approach and closed the distance between the two of you. He looked down at you like he was once again trying to solve a puzzle, only this one seemed far more… entertaining to him. “What exactly do you want?”

"Why do you want to know?" You ask, shifting back to give yourself space, only to realize he once again has you trapped.

"Because you seem to have a different mentality than the usual sinner here in the hierarchy of Hell. While it’s a unique perspective, I doubt you’re the only one who has it. As you mentioned before, there’s a good chance my hypnosis could be resisted by other overlords as well,” Vox explained easily as he noticed your discomfort with a sinister grin.

“Can you blame me for wanting to find out just how far that mindset can take you before you fall under my spell like anyone else?” Vox smirked as he watched you squirm uncomfortably.

You will the flush on your face to kindly fuck off as you look away from him. It was obvious he was just interested in seeing what it would take to regain power over anyone who managed to dodge the influence of his magic. You thought that there would never be a consequence to the countless nights you stayed up late reading fanfiction filled with romantic tension, but the habit was now biting you in the ass as your mind filled with scenarios the overlord was definitely not implying.

"That's a fair enough question then, I suppose,” you mutter as you push on his chest to get some space.

Vox relents and backs up, giving you the illusion of control for the time being. It was easier to pry information out of you that way. You move from the desk to the couch he was on earlier and grab a pillow. The two of you had been talking longer than you expected, and you wanted to get comfortable. You sit criss-cross, holding the pillow in your lap.

"Well,I guess I want the same things a lot of people want… I think. I want to get better at the things I do. I want to be prettier. I want to fall in love one day, but with how fucked up everyone is here, I'm not holding my breath there,” you chuckle dryly.

“Uhhh, I like plushies, but I don't need any more of those..." you hum as your mind wanders on how else you can answer his question. You personally didn’t think any of this could help him in his endeavors, but he had asked.

"You want to fall in love?" Vox said, raising a brow curiously at you as he sat across from you. He had never expected any sinners in hell to say they wanted to fall in love so openly. It was so... "pure" so to speak. Vox thought about what you said and asked, "What's stopping you, exactly?"

You snort, "Experience."

You laugh about it, but it's hollow. "I don't live up to the standards media portrays. I'm not skinny, I'm loud, and I have boundaries. Name one person in Hell who would be into that. I'm like the pet a kid gets and likes for a month and then sends back to the pound 'cause they got bored."

"I see..." Vox said as he thought the answer over. It was true that you were the furthest thing he was used to seeing in media or on the streets. A lot of sinners came in all sorts of shapes and sizes, yet a lot of them were thinner than twigs. He hadn’t given it much thought before, but you did stick out a bit more than you would have on Earth where body types were more varied.

Your answer made a lot of sense, but it still made something inside of him shift uncomfortably. Media and social media often paint a distorted image of what is considered 'beautiful' that leaves people's self-esteem in tatters. Normally, his business thrived off of the low self-esteem of sinners and he never had to face what that emotion felt like. After all, he had it all. Money, looks, power. So to sit face to face with the reality of those schemes left a sour taste in his mouth.

"And what about your personality?” Vox found himself asking before he realized. A part of him felt shocked that he’d bothered to pursue the subject, but he couldn’t help his curiosity. “Surely your sugary disposition has attracted people in the past, right?”

Your face scrunches. "Attracts them, sometimes sure, I guess..." You look to the side, trying to keep your energy nonchalant and starting to fail. "But that's never been enough for anyone."

You sigh, shaking your head. "Any other weirdly intrusive questions, or do you have dissected my morals to your satisfaction?"

"Hmm..." Vox said, his eyes narrowing as he continued to study you with curiosity. There was a certain sadness to the way you described yourself. Clearly, you'd been through a lot of heartbreak and rejection over the years. But he had to know more. So he asked, "How have you managed to sustain your cheery nature after all the rejections you've faced?"

"I'd go fucking insane if I didn't," you chuckle. "And besides, it's not all bad. I can focus on learning new things and work on projects when I don't let other people fuck with my emotions."

Vox chuckled, your candid answer eliciting a laugh from him. "So, you use the rejection as motivation for your work, huh? That’s… something I can respect."

"Everything is shit enough as is," you say tiredly. "I'm tired of being miserable, so I just do what I can to be less so. It doesn't solve everything, but it helps."

"Well, I must say, that's quite admirable,” Vox smirked as he used some of his standard ego-stroking techniques on you. He saw potential uses for your skills in the future and wanted to get on your good side now that the two of you had struck a deal. “Your ability to remain upbeat and optimistic even after all that you've been through... I'm very impressed. It takes a lot of willpower and strength to do that, something that most demons here in Hell rarely have. It is a very admirable quality to possess."

You cringe slightly at the praise. Even if Vox was saying it in a business-like matter of fact, it was something that you just couldn't accept. It felt fake as fuck and made you uncomfortable. Granted, even if it had felt genuine, you still would have struggled to accept any praise.

"You're mocking me," you huff.

"Hmm... I suppose it may come off that way." Vox grinned. “Ah’” he thought to himself. “Laid it on too thick. Interesting though…” He enjoyed teasing you because you got so frustrated by it. "It's not my intention."

You roll your eyes, completely unconvinced. "Uh-huh."

You smirk, leaning down to rest your cheek on your hand. Despite everything that had happened, you found yourself starting to enjoy talking with Vox. It felt weirdly refreshing and kept you on your toes. "What about you? What do you want, Mr. Big and Powerful Media Man?"

"Oh, well, I suppose there are a couple of things I would like to have," Vox said, rubbing his chin as he thought. His voice had regained an air of confidence as he talked about himself. "To finally kick Alastor’s ass once and for all, for starters. That prick showing his face again really fucks up my main goal of becoming the top overlord in Hell."

Vox leaned back as he followed the trail of thought. “Although he’s not the only one. To rise to the top, I’d have to surpass Carmilla, Zestial, the giant fucking dino lady, hell, even Valentino.”

"Wait, wait, wait," you say as you sit up. "Valentino? Isn't he like, your closest ally?"

"Oh, he is," Vox said as he grinned in a way that made his teeth seem sharper and almost inhuman. "But he’s a resource who constantly threatens the ability to outshine me as well. It’s a… fine line. It’s not like I need to destroy him like several of the others, but he could stand to be knocked down a peg or two once I’ve gotten what I need from him.”

Vox truly looked the part of a villain as he shrugged like he wasn’t talking about someone he was so close to. “Once I do, I will be the top overlord in Hell! No more media competition... no more Alastor stealing the spotlight from me. The top media overlord role will be mine alone."

"Damn, that's cold," you chuckle. "Not my flavor of a lifestyle, but weirdly enough, I'm rooting for you.”

“Really now?” Vox smirked as he quirked an eyebrow at the unexpected response.

“If it means Valentino gets kicked in the back of his knees along the way, I guess I can support the big backstabbing game just this once,” you shrug. While it may not have been the main part of Vox’s big schemes, you were a fan of anything that bit the shitty mothman in the ass.

"Fair enough," Vox smirked. Despite how sappy you were, Vox found a twisted delight in seeing how his business partner brought out a darker side in you. He wondered what kind of person you could be if he corrupted you over time. His sharp teeth flashed in the light as he started singing to the anti-Valentino tune you wore plainly on your sleeve.

"I think many in Hell would agree that Valentino has made their existence in Hell far worse than it needs to be,” Vox says, looking to the side as if he were remorseful. “I’ve turned a blind eye to it for a long time… Perhaps too long. I care about him a lot… but I won’t let him stand in the way of what I want."

"Don't you guys like, date on and off, though?” You ask as you shift and look over Vox quizzically. “You don't love him?"

"Oh no, definitely not,” Vox said with a bitter laugh. He wasn’t acting with that response. For as much as he and Valentino went back and forth, it had been made clear how loveless whatever it was they had was, even if he had hoped for more once upon a time.

“We have a… mutually beneficial work partnership, that's all," Vox said, trying to hide the awkwardness that came with that statement. "A romantic relationship would do me no good because ultimately it requires me to be more emotionally vulnerable,” he stated as he tried to make it seem like things were the way they were by his choice and his choice only. “And as you've discovered, I'm not the type of person to be very vulnerable."

"Ah, just fuck buddies then," you nod. "Fair enough."

"Hm, yeah, that would be a fair assessment," Vox said, shrugging his shoulders as if he didn't actually care. "It's more of a physical than emotional relationship anyway. I don't love him or anything like that."

"Fair," you say. "I can get wanting his power, but if you ended up taking him down completely, what would you do with the porn industry?"

“Who said that I’d take him down that far?” Vox frowned. He didn’t like that there was something to be considered there. He hadn’t dared to imagine what his afterlife would be like without both Vees by his side, but he had to admit, you were bringing up an interesting line of thought.

You shrug, “Humor me. I’ve listened to your crazy ideas about Hell domination. Just… consider it food for thought.”

Vox clicked his tongue, uncomfortable with the thought and yet also somewhat intrigued. Without Valentino in the picture, he’d have control over a very large corner of the media industry. Ultimately he did crave power over all of Hell, but he’d never considered that as a possibility until now.

You look him up and down as he gets lost in his own mind. "Although, now that I think about it… Hm… Don't get me wrong, you've got the whole sexy and evil thing down well, but you don't strike me as someone who'd be comfortable running that area of things, huh?"

"Well, that's the thing,” Vox mutters as he runs a hand over his screen. “In the hypothetical, it's not just his power and influence that I'd want. It's his industry and his influence over the masses. If I were to ever take over the media industry, I wouldn't leave the porn industry as is. I'd transform it into something much better and much more powerful than Valentino's industry. He simply lacks the vision for what the industry CAN be. And I could show everyone that stronger vision."

"And what vision is that?" You ask with a tilt of your head.

"A vision of technology and media that has the masses drooling for the products and services that we provide. A vision in which we truly have total control over the sinner population here in Hell and the population back on Earth.” Vox started, slowly getting invested in the hypothetical.

“I would expand the industries far beyond Valentino's limits, to the point where all other media and technology companies would be left behind in Hell's dust,” He said with a manic grin. He could feel the dead pixels under his lip as if it were blood dripping from his mouth.

“I could make it so that everything in our industries is tailored to the needs and wants of the masses. All of it. Every person would seek us for entertainment, information, and technology, and we would give them just what they need."

"And what happens then?" You say, realizing you’d triggered his evil mastermind brain cell. It was both fascinating and somewhat terrifying.

"Then...?” Vox blinks slowly as he comes down from the power high. “You mean what happens after I take complete control over the media industry?"

"Yeah," you shrug. "You turn everyone into a mindless consumer, but then what? If there's no one left to beat, no one left to control because everyone is already under your control. Well, would that make you happy?"

"It would make me very happy," Vox said, smiling at the thought of having complete control over everyone both here in hell and back on Earth. "In fact, I would consider that as 'game set match.' Because once I have that level of influence over the masses, nobody can possibly hope to compete with me. I would be the one and only media overlord, and everyone would love me for it."

"Mm," you hum as you flip the pillow in your arms for stimulation. "You may have lost me there. I feel like if you controlled everything, then there'd be no room for new ideas. I feel like you'd get bored."

"Well, that's where you're wrong." Vox scoffed. "Even with complete control and domination, the media industry will continue to evolve and change. After all, new technologies will emerge and new trends will crop up as time goes on. With complete control over the media industry, it is I who would have the final say on such changes and innovations. There will always be new ideas to keep the industry fresh and new, but the underlying system will remain the same. The system of control and dominance over the minds of the masses."

"Huh," you say. "I don't really get it, but if it's what you're passionate about and it takes down the guy who hurts people I care about, then I'm not one to complain. It will kinda be weird being like one of the only people not brainwashed by your tech though."

"It's fine, you don't have to understand it," Vox chuckled. "And by then I will have ironed out this little inconvenience regarding the ability to resist my control, so you’ll be just as swept up by the ordeal as all the other idiots.”

"Well, before all of that, you have a deal to uphold," you remind him, with a smirk.

"Ah yes... the deal. I forgot about that," Vox chuckled. "I've gotten so caught up in my own world that I almost completely forgot that you managed to beat me in round one our little mind game."

You snort, "Had a feeling." You get off the couch, cross the room, and lean over him to grab a pen and start writing a list of names in your notebook.

Vox watched you and thought over the conversation as you worked. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had entertained his fantasies like that. Even if you didn’t fully agree or understand, you let him ramble and you even dared to suggest something like betraying Valentino in full. He couldn’t remember the last time someone other than Velvette had been bold enough to talk to him about something that could contradict or upset him. It was refreshing how you were both keenly aware of the danger he was and yet also… saw past that.

You look over the list twice before nodding with satisfaction and ripping the page out. You stand up and hold out the paper to him. "These are the souls you'll need to make Valentino release his contract with. Make sure no harm or repercussions come to them after the fact as well. Don't be sloppy or I’ll kick your ass."

"Of course, of course," Vox smirked, taking the paper from you and looking over the names. “Although, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t genuinely interested in seeing you try.”

He pocketed the list and hummed as he stood from the couch and looked around. The risk you’d put yourself at today with him, the vials, the deal. “You really hate Valentino, don’t you?”

"Of course I do," you cross your arms. "He's abused the people I care for countless times. Why do you think I made the repellent?"

"Well, I suppose that would be a pretty justifiable reason," Vox said, nodding. "So then... this is a personal vendetta for you.”

"Completely," you nod. "I don't give a shit about the political power struggle in Hell. As far as I'm concerned, you're all just as bad as each other. There's no point in me getting too invested. I just want my friends safe from his control over them."

"I can respect a person with strong convictions," Vox said, a slight frown appearing on his face as he considered your words. "Although I do mourn your lack of desire to get more involved. It serves me well enough, but if you ever wanted to play the game…"

You sigh as you wave away his words, "Yes, yes, I've been a great tool for you. I'm helping one evil to take out another. Yeah, yeah, just don’t get used to it.”

"I appreciate the help, is all," Vox smirked as he approached you and lifted your chin with a single claw. "But tell me... is it truly so bad? I mean, you're helping to make Hell a better place. If I can lessen the damage Valentino has done along the way, then his manipulative, abusive reign over the masses will finally come to an end. Is that so awful?"

"Depending on what you do after, it could be," you mumble as you hug your arms to yourself and look away.

Vox raised an eyebrow. "You think that my plan for domination would be detrimental to Hell? That I would use my power to spread nothing but misery for my ego?"

You look up at him, with a smirk. "Your words, not mine."

"Touche," Vox muttered, with a small smile. "I suppose you wouldn't believe me if I said that that's not my intention after acquiring complete power and control."

You step up to him and straighten his pin-striped suit jacket. He'd fashioned himself to be the ultimate image of control and power and yet his suit had wrinkles from laying on your couch. "I have never once heard of a person hungry for power and control with good intentions."

"Hmm, I suppose that's fair." Vox grinned as you absentmindedly tended to his appearance. "Still, I believe that the people of Hell would be better off if I were the one in charge. I am far more capable than the other overlords, and I could ensure that Hell operates the way it should. The media industry would thrive under my rule, I would be able to improve the lifestyles of the sinners in a way that no other overlord has even attempted to do. It's all for the greater good."

You shake your head, the smile you give him unreadable. "Then I hope that works for the best. Truly. I'm sure I'll see how it plays out one day, we all will. After all, you do love to put on a show."

"Yes, I do love my dramatic flair," Vox said, smiling faintly as if enjoying a mental image. "And it seems you're quite a bit of a drama queen as well. You do love being mysterious and difficult to read, don't you?"

You snort, shaking your head. "I consider myself an open book, actually. You just spend so much time with other big politicians and villains that you forgot what a normal person is like."

"Hmm, perhaps," Vox said, a smirk coming across his face. "But I must admit, you are certainly a different type of person compared to the other sinners I've met. You are far more unique than I initially thought."

You giggle, giving a silly little bow. "What an honor to be one of the few the future ‘Great Big Overlord of Hell’ will remember. It's ironic, all things considered."

"Oh? And what's ironic about that?" Vox grinned, tilting his head curiously as he felt himself being pulled in by your energy. He never knew what to expect and he found himself realizing just how much fun he was having, despite everything.

You smirk up at him, leaning up on your toes. "Because for all of this, you don't even know my name." You say quietly with a playful smirk.

"Well, aren't you just a cheeky little thing?” Vox chuckled as you stepped back. He watched you as you smiled like you’d just won another match in the game the two of you had been playing.

“Fine, I'll admit you got me... I don't do the whole getting to know people before I try to manipulate them thing,” Vox shrugged before grinning at you with a spark in his eye. “Are you going to tell me or do I have to beg for that little bit of information?”

You quirk an eyebrow at him, meeting his playful remark with one of your own. “Are you saying you would? Because I’m sure there are plenty who’d pay good money to see you on your knees.”

Vox laughed, while you internally screamed and did your best to play cool. Did you seriously just flirt with the egotistical maniac who broke into your home? Seriously?! God, you needed therapy. Or alcohol. Or both.

“You really are something,” Vox snickered. He’d never been so happy to have his expectations proven wrong before. This entire exchange had left him feeling more alive than he’d felt in years.

Your eyes widened as he took your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. Whether he was making fun of you, lying with his usual business bullshit, or something else, you had no way of knowing as he looked up at you with a downright devilish grin.

“As much as I hate to cut this exchange short, I believe I have a list to get started on.”

Your brain is too busy buffering at the unexpected action as he stands tall and straightens his suit jacket with a satisfied grin. That was a point for him in your little game that he took pride in.

“Until next time, Y/N,” Vox smirked as he used your computer screen to teleport out of the office and leave you standing there dumbfounded and with a blush dusted on your cheeks.

It took a solid minute before you snapped out of it at the realization he’d used your name. You smacked your forehead and groaned as you realized he’d been on your computer, which meant that he’d seen that your name was on the main user account for your PC. He knew the whole time.

“Fucking damn it,” you whined with embarrassment.

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #electric love series

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highwayorgantrade · 1 year

Text

Baptized By Fire (I)

Pairing: Ghost x (F)Reader

Request: Nope :)

Story Summary: Reader loses themselves to the mission - Ghost brings them back.

Chapter Summary: On your first specialized mission with Ghost and Soap, you were praying for everything to go right. Whether the idea was a sick joke or naivety, you did what you had to do to survive. Unfortunately, all actions have consequences.

Word Count: 2.8k

Song/Playlist:

Author's Note: Reader's callsign is Corpse! I got the idea for this fic by some ad I saw with these really cool titanium fangs, so I saw that and I was like yo lemme steal that rq so yeah I imagine reader having those but I don't really think it's necessary to the story! This is gonna be my first multi-chapter thing so I hope I can get everyone hooked bc LORRRDDDD the amount of stuff I have planned for this!

"When did intel say this guy was going to show up?" Soap grunted next to you, his rough voice teetering on the edge of being whiny. You knew the answer, everyone did. Three hours ago, a truck loaded with international weapons smugglers should have pulled outside of the house that you were sheltered in. The town had seen its last inhabitant months ago, right when this group began using it as a trading post. You were supposed to be in exfil by... Now, actually.

Ghost had parked himself in a barely-lit corner of the room, leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed. You wondered, every so often, if he was actually asleep, but when he ran through the motions of checking his gun, you were reminded of exactly who he was. Ghost would never fall asleep on a mission, no matter how late it was running.

"I'm going up to the second floor." You finally sighed. "Gonna see if I can scope anything out." You used to opportunity to stretch your legs - you had stayed crouched for so long, and the cold simply was not helping. And the longer you were in the presence of Ghost, the more your mind ran wild, and the overwhelming desire to impress him got worse and worse as time went on. Soap said nothing, and Ghost simply nodded at you.

Well, good enough.

The stairs were old, and it felt like they were screaming your presence when they creaked under your footsteps. As you walked past, the memories that this house once held were clear at every footstep. Picture frames of the family, forgotten behind, had dust collecting on the frames, and various pieces of artwork littered the walls, varying from classic Kahlo to children's messy fingerpainting. You pushed the door to each room open, trying to buy time by yourself. Each room was more or less the same - dresser, bed, window. Maybe a tapestry here and there.

You kneeled in front of a large, busted out window at the end of the hall, pulling binoculars out of your bag, and settling in. You held the binoculars up and sighed. Still the same landscape you've been staring at for the past three hours. The same faded market signs, dead outdoor plants and... Different SUV. You don't remember that being there, parked in an alleyway between two businesses. The windows were tinted dark, almost completely blacked out, so the hope of seeing anything inside was dashed.

The low, hushed voices of Soap and Ghost downstairs met your ears. You should tell them about the car. See something, say something, right? Part of you slightly resented the connection they had, but they've been working together for years. Countless missions and days together. These were your early days in Task Force 141, and this was your third mission with them. First mission using a specialized group like this, which is exactly why is was extra important that you didn't fuck up.

An uneasy feeling locked in your chest, and you stood, electing to rejoin the two of them. You shouldn't be alone, especially if a fight was about to break out.

"Contact!" Ghost's rough voice cut through the quiet, and almost as if on cue, a pair of gloved hands wrapped around your mouth and torso, setting off every single danger alarm your body had. Your vision darkened from the panic, and your desperate attempt to free yourself was going mostly unnoticed. The small point of pressure in your back told you that the barrel of a gun was pressed into your spine.

"Stop fucking fighting. They're not coming for you." A low, vaguely Eastern European voice growled into your ear before pulling you back into a random room. It was familiar, one of the parent's rooms, you'd assumed.

How did they get in? How the fuck did they get in without you noticing?

The window. The busted out windows in every room of the house. They came around the back entrance, and Ghost and Soap are about to be ambushed. Your eyes widened at the realization, and the man in front you smiled. Your target. This was him. Along with three other men, your outlook did not look good.

Panic clawed its way into your throat, but nonetheless, you made an effort to keep your face as stoic as possible. Your target leaned against the now-shut door of the room, and the sound of gunshots was echoing throughout the house.

"You are the one they call Corpse?" He looked you up and down, and gestured to one of his men. "Take her gun. And the knife. Scream, and I'll kill you and your friends." They followed his direction immediately, and the hand that was once around your mouth was removed. "Do you understand the situation you're in?" He was speaking to you like you were a child, and anger licked at your chest. Yes, obviously you understood the situation. You were trapped, with no chance of fighting, no weapons, and no way to communicate. You felt like a cornered dog, surrounded by people you know would kill you in a heartbeat.

You simply nodded, your teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek so hard, the metallic taste of blood was leaking into your throat.

Your target walked around the room, almost casually, and he smiled at the floor.

"There is a way for you to walk out of this alive, you know." He stopped, his back to the window. "Your force is rather... Mysterious. You come with us, and answer my questions. Any question I have, willingly. You'll be answering either way. The only question is how I'll be able to get you there." He smiled at you, like you two were having a pleasant conversation about world affairs.

The memory of Ghost's voice echoed in your head. "Don't let anyone take you to a second location. No matter what they are promising, they will kill you."

They will kill you. They want to kill you. They will hurt you. They will hurt Ghost and Soap, and who knows who else. You felt like a cornered animal, and all you could hear were gunshots and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You spoke for the first time in a while, and your own voice was unrecognizable to you.

"Fine."

And with that, your vision went black.

"See any more?" Soap's ragged breathing cut through his words, and Ghost's eyes were still trained on the street. Enemy bodies littered the world outside, and his vision was still adjusting to the world outside the scope of his rifle.

"No movement." Ghost finally put his weapon down, slightly grateful that the mission was over so they could all finally go back to base.

"Would've been easier with some fuckin' help." Soap grumbled, and cast a glance up at the stairs where he last saw your retreating back. Ghost didn't take a second thought about you going to scope out the landscape, he knew you were nervous around him, and in his chest, he felt a pang of regret. He could've been nicer to you, talked to you a little bit more, but he simply had no idea how to navigate his feelings around you. You simply showed up to base one day, and that was that for him. At first, he thought you were... Slightly aggravating. How easily you became friends with the Task Force, the sunshine that radiated out of you... He figured that you must not have seen that much war if you were still that damn happy.

It was difficult for Ghost to accept that he was wrong about your skills. At the firing range, in hand to hand combat, in everything, you were just ever-so-slightly better than him, and he tried to let some of his feelings known through the small things, like allowing you to enter a room before him, or simply sitting next to you during debriefings.

A resounding thud pulled him out of his thoughts, and immediately, his head whipped toward the direction, his heart sinking in his chest.

"Corpse, status!" Soap shouted, and his command was only met with silence. Before Ghost could think, he was on his feet and creeping up the stairs silently, his weapon at the ready. Soap followed closely behind, knowing that if Ghost was doing this, it was for damn good reason. A noise echoed through the house, and out onto the street, and both men stopped dead in their tracks. A scream, so guttural, animalistic, and angry pierced the air, and it chilled Ghost to the bone. He had heard a lot of noises during war, but none he heard were like this.

Of all the doors in that hallway, only one was closed, and Ghost nodded toward it. Soap and him stood on opposite sides of the door, and Ghost's heartbeat was racing as he thought about what could be on the other side of this door. You could be injured, dead, or worst of all, gone altogether. The door creaked open, and the sight that lay in front of them caused Soap and Ghost to freeze.

You were standing over four dead bodies, carnage spread around the room. Your uniform was covered in blood, and your hands and face had the same fate. Blood dripped from your chin, and your teeth were bared, a low noise emitting from your mouth as your chest rose and fell rapidly. The one fact they couldn't ignore: Every single body in that room had their throats shredded into oblivion.

"Corpse?" Soap spoke softly, the horror in his voice being poorly masked, but Ghost couldn't take his eyes off you. You were shaking, and the usual light that was in your eyes was gone, replaced by brutality and viciousness. Ghost handed his gun to Soap, wanting it clear out of the way if you decided to attack him as well. He stepped forward, the bottom of his boots leaving bloody footprints on the way to you. His grip on your chin forced you to look at him.

"Corpse, snap to. Come back, soldier."

"Corpse, snap to. Come back, soldier." Ghost's voice was the only clear thing in your mind, and you felt like you had just woken up from a very long nap. Your mind was hazy, and you focused on Ghost's eyes searching yours for any hint of remaining humanity. The last thing you remember: The target advancing toward you with a knife. That was it.

"Ghost, I- The target-" Your voice shook, and you finally took note of your surroundings. The target in question was long dead, sat against his wall, and his neck- "Oh, my God." As soon as your eyes set on the carnage in the room, Ghost wrapped his hand around your arm and began pulling you.

"No, don't look. Don't look." His hand came around your eyes, so the only think you could see was a slight hint of the blood-stained floor. Soap said nothing as Ghost led you out of the room, down the stairs, and into the freezing air. When you were outside, Ghost unclipped your helmet, and Soap rounded the corner.

"What the fuck was that massacre, Corpse?"

You wracked your brain for a good explanation, a hint of any memory that would allow you to explain something that you simply cannot remember, and you came up dead empty.

"I- I don't know, I can't remember." Your voice was small, almost lost to the wind blowing through the town. You had never seen Soap upset, and his response certainly wasn't helping your confusion.

"You don't know?" He looked at you incredulously. "You don't know how you... You tore open their throats?"

"No! I don't know! I can't remember!" You wished you could lie to him. You wished you could remember any minor detail of what happened, but after the target came at you, the only thing you remember is Ghost bringing you back.

The bright headlights of a familiar van approached, and you jumped at the sudden brightness.

"Soap, that's exfil. Get in the car and tell them to wait." Ghost's low tone was commanding, and Soap could only sigh and place himself in the passenger seat, undoubtedly already coming up with a mission report.

"Corpse, focus on me." Your eyes left the van, and Ghost had placed himself directly in front of you, so there was nowhere to look but in his eyes. "Do you or do you not remember what happened?" The intensity at which he spoke made you want to cry, the fear of disappointing him feeling real.

"No, I- I don't remember anything. All I can remember is him coming at me with a knife, and the other three guys, they said they would hurt you and Soap, and they wanted to take me somewhere else, but you told me to never go to a second location, and I just... I don't know."

"Hush, love, I believe ya. Did they hurt you?" His hand moved to grasp your bicep, and you looked down at the ground.

"No, I don't think so. I'm not sure."

Ghost sighed, and looked back at the vehicle.

"Right, then. We'll get ya checked out, just in case, okay? Come on." He began walking, but stopped when he realized you weren't following him.

"Ghost, did I-" You took a shaky breath, your question stuck in your throat. "Did I fuck up? Am I going to be kicked out?" Ghost stared at you, your question hanging in the air, until he took a step toward you.

"Corpse, you killed our target. And then some. You won't be kicked out for completing a mission. Price might tell you have to see some kind of psychiatrist or therapist, but that's it. That's all, I promise. Now, you're going to get in the van, we're going to go back to base, and you're gonna shower. Get to."

There was no arguing with Ghost, you knew that. You knew he was right, but that still didn't stop the little fire of annoyance lighting in your chest, and it was made worse that you didn't know what you were annoyed more by - The fact that he was so confident about the hypothetical outcome, or the thought of having to re-explain the situation to your Captain. You sighed as you wrenched open the back door of the car, the copper scent of your actions filling the enclosed space.

The ride back to base was quiet, the radio occasionally tuning in to a random station, speaking in a language you had no hope of understanding. The sun had begun to rise on the horizon, an orange glow cast on the landscape, and you sighed at the sun hitting your face, the feeling unmatched after being submerged in darkness for what felt like forever.

A few hours had passed, and Soap's snoring in the front seat was almost peaceful. You hadn't dared sneak a look at your Lieutenant - you weren't sure what curdled your heart more, the thought of him staring at you in disgust or disappointment, or worse, not at all. When the car passed through the security checkpoint for the base you called home, you couldn't seem to focus on one problem or thought at a time. Finally, the car stopped, and the growling engine cut off. Ghost gave Soap a rough shove to his shoulder, startling the man awake.

"Soap. Go." Ghost's voice seemed almost impossibly rougher after staying silent for hours. Soap cast you a remorseful look before exiting the vehicle, along with the driver. Anxiety held its place in the base of your throat, the scent of blood suddenly was drowning you, and your hands shook as you began to fidget with the seatbelt latch. "Corpse. Captain wants to speak with you."

Ha. You're fired. You're so fired. Your one passion, the one thing you know you were born to do-. "You're not in trouble. He just wants to know what happened." Ghost sighed, and pressed his thumb into the latch, releasing your seatbelt. "Damn it, soldier, fuckin' look at me when I talk to you." His voice immediately took on a harsher infliction, and you stared up at him, reminded of what exactly your relationship is to him - he is a Lieutenant, you are a Sergeant. Nothing more. "Obviously..." Ghost's eyes looked you up and down. "Get showered first." Your voice was barely above a whisper when you spoke.

"Yes, sir." When your boots made contact with the ground, it felt like the weight of... Everything collapsed on your shoulders. The sun felt too bright, your gear heavy and sticky, and Ghost's eyes boring holes into the back of your head all combined into the worst storm possible. You shook your head, your own eyes trained on the ground in front of you as you walked to your barracks. Just keep it together until you're alone. All you have to do is make it to your room. That's all. Don't fall apart until you're there.

Do not fall apart until you're there.

#ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #ghost fanfiction #modern warfare fanfiction

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millersdjarin · 1 year

Text

Some Invisible String

Chapter I: High Tide

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: E (eventually)

Summary: Ten years after Reader left Joel for reasons he still doesn't know, they find themselves together again in a town called Jackson. Joel has questions he's too afraid to ask; and Reader dreads having to give the answers.

Tags/Warnings: eventual smut, post tlou part I, jackson era joel <3, emotion!!!

Chapter length: 3.3k

notes: my first multi-chapter joel fic! overall title is from taylor swift's "invisible string", chapter I title also from taylor, "this love" ♥︎ eventual smut will be here too! so far it's going to be 5 chapters :) enjoy! ps. i recently switched to writing in second person but when i wrote this fic i was still writing in first person, hope u don't mind! will be posting updates regularly

I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea. Really, I don’t.

But, then again, nothing has been a good idea in twenty years, and I’m still here. So, there’s that.

One minute I was out hunting in the snow, tracking a deer that made itself vulnerable in the woods beside a half-frozen creek. If I could get him, I thought, it’d keep me going with food for a week at least. Best thing about winter: food stays fresh in the cold.

Worst thing: everything else. Literally everything else.

Because now, what started as a quick hunt with an almost-guaranteed prize at the end, has ended in me literally fighting for my fucking life, rolling around in foot-deep snow as runners try to rip the shit out of me.

It doesn’t help that the commotion has led a bunch of local hunters—who clearly had the same idea as me—to my location. They’ve got the deer, they’ve shot me in the leg, and I’m either going to bleed out, get bitten, or get eaten by infected.

So, this is great.

Blood rushing in my ears, I seize the moment a hunter shoots one of the nearby runners and use it to take shelter behind a rock for a minute, surrounded by the groans and screams of infected who are still searching for me or attacking the hunters. Gunshots ring loud throughout the air, along with the smashing of a few molotovs as the bottles hit the snow, the roaring of flames as they engulf bodies.

My leg is bleeding into the snow. Actually, it’s damn near gushing, pulsing out with each beat of my heart.

Footsteps are getting closer to me. I try to put pressure on the wound, but the bullet is still there, and it fucking hurts, and my vision is going blurry. The screams of infected are getting less and less as, presumably, the men take them out.

I’m not bitten. Not yet. But that’s the least of my worries, if the pool of red snow I’m creating below me is anything to go by.

It’s starting to leech into the snow surrounding the rock, easily giving away my location. As the last infected screams with a squelch of a blade into one of its body parts, one of the men shouts, “Hey! She’s over there! Flank her!”

Ha. As if they even need to flank me.

My head is spinning. Blood, shiny and thick, coats my hands. It’s all over me. It’s fucking everywhere. It won’t stop bleeding.

I’m going to fucking die.

These men are going to kill me, or do worse while they wait for me to die. Surviving the apocalypse as a woman is a fucking joke.

I reach for my gun, but there are spots in my vision now. Dark red and black. It’s a mixture of real blood in my eyes and blood loss making me dizzy. I can feel it fading. All of it. The cold, the feeling in my body, the sound around me, everything…

It’s fading.

There are heavy, men’s footsteps getting closer.

I’m just debating whether I have the strength to fight back, or even to just end it all myself before they get chance, when I hear it.

A new gun. A new set of voices. The hunters’ attention is turned away from me once more as their footsteps crunching in the snow turn away and head for whoever else has decided to grace us with their presence.

It doesn’t matter. I’m out anyway. After all this time, all this fighting, after everything I’ve lost—I’m going to die here in the snow, in the middle of nowhere in Jackson County, after being shot by a fucking hunter.

Then, I hear a voice.

It could be a southern accent. I could swear that it is - that it’s real.

But I always knew that in my last moments I’d hear him, real or not. It’s been ten years, but I still hear him in the night sometimes, as I’m falling asleep or jolting awake. Sometimes when I get injured, I hear him tutting, I feel his fingers on my skin, patching me up.

Now, sitting here dying in the snow, I could swear that it’s him.

It’s not. It can’t be.

But as the last of my consciousness fades, as I feel the final thread of me begin to fray, I let myself believe that it is.

I hold onto the sound. So clear, like he’s right there next to me.

I never wanted to die alone. I’m going to pretend that I won’t.

“Joel…” I feel his name slip through my lips for the first time in years.

His name, and his voice saying my name in return, are the last things I hear before I go.

Well, goddamn.

If this is hell, there is no fire, so it could be worse; but if it’s heaven, Jesus, I don’t want it.

I can’t even wake up. My eyes feel heavy. It’s like I’m clawing back to consciousness after a bad fever. After a surgery that went wrong. Before I can even think or begin to open my eyes or listen for sounds, I can feel that every inch of me hurts. Like I’ve been cut open, rearranged, and sewn back together again.

So, it’s not heaven. Cool. Fine. I’m going to suffer for eternity, then?

Except, when I hear it, I freeze. (Metaphorically speaking. I’m already frozen in whatever spot I’ve been cursed to.)

“She’s waking up.” That isn’t Joel. But it’s similar, and familiar. It sounds like...

Why the hell is Tommy here?

Then, it’s his voice again. My name, in Joel’s voice.

If nothing else, the confusion gets me to force my eyes open.

And the first thing I see is him.

“Hey,” Joel says, “can you hear me? Wake up…you’re safe…”

I blink a few times. Then, beneath the pain in my body, I realise that I’m warm. I’m under something soft and cosy; a wool blanket, it feels like, if the scratching against my bare arms is anything to go by.

Any other sensation doesn’t really matter right now, though, because I can’t take my eyes off of Joel. He’s just there, hovering above me with even more creases on his forehead than I remember, an especially big one sitting between his eyebrows right now that looks like someone’s drawn it there.

“You’re alright, you’re alright,” he sounds distant but close all at once, and soft and gruff just like he used to.

“I…” I manage to stammer while I vaguely register that there is daylight around us, though it’s fading into shades of amber and pink. Approaching sunset. Last I remember, it had only just risen.

Not without struggle, I get my body to move, but the second I shift in my place, a blinding pain shoots from my leg to all angles, hitting my head and my toes.

Well. I’m starting to think I’m not actually dead.

“Hey, don’t try to move, you’re hurt,” Joel says again.

Joel.

...Joel?

Joel!?

“J—Joel?” As I start to realise that it seems I am very much alive, somehow that fact just makes for more confusion. I look around, and Tommy is there, too, standing by the room’s window, leaning on the butt of his rifle where it sits at his chest, the barrel facing the floor. He looks older, too. Much older. He’s got almost as many wrinkles and greys as Joel does now.

Someone else enters the picture after a minute. A woman with a frown of concern pushes Joel away—in my delirium I almost forget that he’s probably real, and that it wouldn’t be appropriate to reach out and pull him back—and then her face is above mine, shining a torch in my eyes.

I squint against it but she holds my eyes open and inspects them. “How are you feeling?” She asks. Her voice is husky but kind, the faintest trace of a Brooklyn accent making itself known.

“I—confused,” is all I can say, dumbly. Joel is standing behind her, looking over her shoulder with a frown that reaches new depths. (He frowned a lot back in the day, but geez, he’s got even better at it.) “Where am I? Who—who are you?”

“I’m Angela,” she answers, removing the blinding torch from my eyes, instead pressing two firm fingers into the pulse point on my wrist. “You’re in a town called Jackson. It seems you already know these two fellas.”

“I—yeah,” I manage to laugh a little in disbelief. Tommy is still there on the opposite side of the room, smiling just a little, fond and nostalgic. It’s then that Angela’s words hit me. A town? “I…is this…am I…the hunters…you…?” My words aren’t coherent or related enough to count as a sentence, or even a completed question.

“It’s our town,” Tommy says with a small smile. “You got nothin’ to worry about. No one here’s a hunter, and you’re in good hands.” He nods to Angela.

I look back to her and frown at the way she’s wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my arm. “Are you…a doctor?”

“I am,” she answers. “You got shot. Lost a lot of blood. These two found you just outside town with barely enough time—or blood—to spare.”

I can’t stop glancing between Angela, Joel, and Tommy. It’s like I’m watching a tennis match between three people.

I’m still not entirely sure this is real. In a fever dream, or even in my last moments, my brain would definitely conjure up something like this. A safe town, where I’m under a warm blanket, on a soft bed, and being looked after by two people who used to be the most important people in my life.

“I…” I’m interrupted by the door swinging open. It lets in a brief shock of cold wind, but Joel quickly reaches out to close it behind whoever has just come in.

“Ellie, I told you to wait outside,” Joel says lowly, so quiet I can barely hear him.

“It’s freezing out there! And I’m worried. Is she awake—?” The girl—Ellie, apparently—pushes past Joel to look over Angela’s shoulder at me. Her concerned frown relaxes when she sees me. She’s just a kid; probably barely fifteen. I’ve never seen her before, but she’s looking at me like she was terrified I was going to die. “Oh, you’re awake!”

“I…am.…”

Joel puts his hand on Ellie’s shoulder and gently pulls her back a little. “Give her some space. Angela’s still working.”

“You know, she’s the best. Last month Joel dislocated his shoulder and she reset it before he could even scream—”

“Alright,” Joel interrupts her, “Ellie. Why don’t you get our guest some food, alright?”

“Something hot,” Angela requests.

A hot meal and a comfortable bed. This has to be some kind of pre-death dream.

“It’s almost dinner time at the kitchen,” Tommy offers with a knowing smile, “see what you can rustle up.”

Ellie sighs, but nods. Before turning to leave, she looks at me again and says, “I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll get you the good stuff.”

The door lets in another whoosh of cold air, but Joel closes it as soon as possible. It’s then that I realise there’s a fireplace on the wall behind the bed; the flames crackle in the light breeze before settling down again.

“I need to check your wound,” Angela says. “Don’t suppose one of you boys can help me out? I need someone to distract her.”

“Distract me? From what?”

“I’m gonna take off your bandage and check the stitches. Then I’m gonna clean it. It’s going to hurt.”

“I don’t need distracting,” I say, meaning it. I’ve dealt with worse. Hell, somehow I survived this. But Joel is still gazing at me, his eyes roaming over me from head to toe, like he’s scanning for even the slightest inkling that something else is wrong they haven’t noticed yet. (Seems unlikely—I’m wearing different clothes than I was before.)

Mentally squirming under his gaze for the first time in a long time, when I never thought I would again, I realise that I might not need distracting, but I do need answers.

Or something close to it.

“I’ll stay,” Joel offers, as if reading my mind. He was always so good at that. It’s weird. Someone so emotionally unavailable shouldn’t be good at that.

Tommy pushes off from the wall, stopping at the foot of my bed. “Don’t be afraid to break his hand,” he offers, grinning lopsidedly, “man needs an excuse to stop for one goddamn minute.” He grins at Joel when he grumbles in response. “I’ll be outside. Need anythin’, give me a holler.” And with that, he’s out the door.

Angela carefully pulls the blanket up and away from my leg, revealing the side of my thigh where the bullet went in. It hurts for something to even be moving in close proximity to it, like my skin is on red alert.

I wish I could say I’ve gotten good at hiding my pain, after all these years of surviving it; but I haven’t. It still shows on my face like it did the day the outbreak happened; like it did when I was barely an adult.

Joel knows. He pulls up a wooden chair beside my bed, offers up his scarred, calloused hand. There’s an expression on his face I can’t quite read. The faintest hints of a sheepish smile, maybe, crows feet deepening around his eyes. It looks like he’s saying, Funny seein’ you here, and I can hear that in his voice, gruff and sarcastic, so I just imagine that that’s what he’s trying to say.

I glance down at his hand, then back up. For a moment I consider not taking it.

It’s been ten years.

I left for a reason.

But then Angela starts pulling at the bandage wrapped tight around my leg, and the pain is fucking horrific. It’s a stabbing, a pulling, and an aching all at once. It starts at the bullet wound and pulses out like cracks of lightning, through my bones, my nerves, up my hips and to my neck.

A sharp inhale through my teeth, a blinding flash of pain that whites out my vision for a second, and I’m reaching for Joel’s hand before I can even think any more about it.

“Why don’t you tell me what the hell you’re doin’ here?” Joel’s voice comes through the blood rushing through my ears. “Last I saw you, we were in Texas.”

“What—what am I doing here?” I laugh, incredulous, and gasp as another wave of pain comes. “I don’t even—know—where I am.” Angela is working away and it hurts, it fucking hurts. But I think, at least, this is the final piece of proof I needed to confirm that I am not actually dead.

That, and the way Joel’s thumb is smoothing over the top of my hand, even though I’m squeezing his so hard that it must hurt like fuck. He’s doing it like he’s not even thinking about it. Like it’s second nature.

I left for a reason.

“You’re in Jackson,” he says.

“I know that. I just—don’t—” I grunt in between words as Angela takes alcohol to the wound. “I don’t know how far—how far you took me—”

“You were barely outside the town. The hunters that got you were bandits on their way to us."

"Right," I say, still not really understanding.

"So it’s just coincidence we found ourselves together again?”

Yes! I left for a fucking reason!

I’m realising I’m not saying it out loud.

I’m not saying it out loud because I never even told Joel there was a reason, let alone what that reason actually was.

“I—guess so,” I grit out. “Sometimes the Universe likes to laugh at us. I—oh, Jesus!” A particularly intense stab of pain comes as Angela starts dabbing at the wound. It’s a bruise, a gash, a cut, all at once.

“It’s alright, hey, just look at me,” Joel’s voice comes, so familiar that it hurts, so soft that it hurts—“Look right at me. That’s it. Do you remember where you were when this happened?”

“I—in the snow,” I answer, staring into his eyes like they’re a lifeline. Angela has started wrapping a new bandage around it now, tight and secure. It hurts. It just fucking hurts. Everything fucking hurts. “The forest. I was—hunting for food. Then…infected. Infected came and—then—hunters…”

Joel nods, encouraging me to continue.

I can’t, though. The pain is too much. Looking at him is too much.

I screw my eyes shut, and a traitorous, humiliating tear spills from one of them. In frustration, a groan splits past my lips, and I reach up my other hand to wipe away the tear.

“Nearly done,” Angela promises.

My teeth are biting down on my lip so hard that I can taste blood; but the pain of that is paling in comparison to everything else, so it doesn’t bother me.

“God fucking dammit,” I grunt as another tear falls.

Down to my very core, it is humiliating.

To be here, writhing in pain, and crying in front of Joel, of all people. Crying during the apocalypse. Crying because he’s there. Because his eyes are still the same.

I’ve always been too soft. I was never as hard as Joel. Or as anyone else around me.

As a kid, books always said that being soft was a strength in its own way. That it was a quality to be proud of. But in this world, all it’s ever brought me is close to death.

“All done,” Angela says.

Though the pain is still very much alive and well, I breathe out a sigh of relief, waiting eagerly for it to ebb. Realising I’m still holding onto Joel’s hand so tight that my knuckles have gone white, I release him, and take a deep breath.

“Good job,” he says. Whether he’s saying it to me or Angela, I’m not sure. He observes his hand, lifting it up to look at as he stretches his fingers out. “Jesus, woman. Gonna need a new hand after that.”

I laugh, breathy. “I had permission.”

“From Tommy,” Joel counters with a grumble.

“I knew you wouldn’t mind.” I say it before I can give it permission. And the softness in my voice—well. That’s just downright not fair.

Joel’s eyes meet mine again. He holds them there for a moment too long. Looks like he might want to say something, but then doesn’t, and stands up. His green flannel shirt stretches so nicely over his shoulders, even broader now than they were back then. His hair is flecked with grey, as is his beard, which is longer now.

I used to lie awake at night and imagine running my fingers over it. I used to cherish the way my hands fit over his shoulders when he boosted me up onto a ledge. The way the muscles in his arms flexed and showed veins when I hoisted him up behind me.

We used to be a team, me, him, and Tommy.

Now, staring at him as he leans against the doorframe, folding his arms over his chest, I think about those times. I can’t help it. There are dark and grey hairs on his chest, peeking up above the top button. I remember how his heart feels under there from the time I had to stitch up a gash there. I remember his pulse, from keeping my finger on it all night when he was feverish from an infected knife wound.

Tommy and I nursed him back, but I thought we’d lost him.

I thought a lot of things.

And, well. There was no other choice.

I left.

♥︎chapter 1/5♥︎

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #joel miller fic #my fic #my fic: joel #mine

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