#many many many many many thoughts and many many many more to come after this chapter

[aeyumicore]

between the blades of grass

when sylus, the strongest warrior of the grasslands, chooses you as his mate, you're forced to consummate your union in front of the entire clan.

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: sylus x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with very little plot, porn with feelings

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.4k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, public sex, voyeurism, outdoor sex, people watching you have sex, missionary, cumming inside, medieval bedding ceremony vibes, NOT continuation off grassland romance (though inspired by it), NOT based off any real world clan, completely made up clan & traditions, implied virgin mc, implied first time sex, use of y/n, dom!sylus, dirty talking sylus, talks of marriage, mating, and some political play.

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: ao3 | twitter inspo 1 | twitter inspo 2

━ ✧.˖ A/N: hello! short fic since i was so heavily inspired by the new sylus memory. this is NOT a continuation of ‘grassland romance’ though it is heavily inspired by the overall theme of the memory. i began furiously writing this when they released the trailer oof i was so hooked. inspired by @/yuchanpaws_ quote tweet linked above!

please note that the clan and traditions mentioned in this fic are completely fictional. however the tradition is based loosely off of the “bedding ceremony” that medieval europe used to partake in!

i will NOT be writing fics for the new xavier or raf memories! i may write for zayne but that is up in the air. i only wrote for this one because i was super inspired by the memory and the fan discourse about it on twitter and tumblr <3

this was actually so fun to write. i might find myself writing more bite sized fics like this, that inspire me rather than feel like me forcing myself to finish them :’) unfortunately that probably means less xavier and raf from now on and only zayne & sylus…

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

“Don’t look at them. Look at me.”

You can hardly hear Sylus through the deafening chants and cheers of the people around you. Never in a million years did you think you’d be caught in this situation. The Mating Rite.

Actually, it was customary for the most esteemed members of your clan to partake in the Mating Rite, those of the Elder Tribunal, the high ranking commanders of the various military societies, really any of the most respected members of the community had to participate in the Rite. To prove their bond with their chosen to the rest of the clan, committing themselves not only to each other, but to the clan. 

But you didn’t fall into any of those criteria. While you were under the strict and often suffocating protection of the clan’s most skilled warriors, for reasons they’d refused to share with you, you weren’t someone of the necessary stature needed to be required to partake in the Rite. 

But Sylus was.

The youngest warrior to be sworn into the clan’s most elite and ruthless military society. The youngest to be considered for a commanding position in the militia, a position he turned down many times. He was the most formidable and respected gladiator of your entire clan, and even that of the opposing clans of the Grasslands. 

There wasn’t a soul in all the Grasslands that didn’t know his name. You either envied him, feared him, or wanted to share a bed with him. Maybe all of the above.

You knew the day would come when Sylus would have to choose a suitable partner, and the thought of it inexplicably sent painful pangs down your very soul. The fear of losing him, when you didn’t even have him, was so utterly heartbreaking, you didn’t know how you’d bear it when the time came.

And yet…Sylus wanted you. He chose you.

You’d never forget the way he sought you out after returning from a mission he told you little of, under the massive acacia you’d often lain under, with the silver haired man in question holding you dearly. How you’d flown into his arms upon seeing his distinct form approaching you, his strong hands gripping your waist as he spun you around, whispering into your ear about how he’d missed you in his time away. 

Or when he threw you over his shoulder, his fingers gripping the underside of your rear, a clear mission in his mind as he traversed the Grasslands to the Elder Tribunal’s square. 

“I need to show them I already have a lover.”

The Elder Tribunal had been pushing Sylus’s hand for years now, wanting to see their most esteemed warrior mated, securing his future progeny to that of the clan. He’d been able to hold them off for as long as possible, his responsibility as a warrior and as your key protector keeping him far too busy to find a suitable mate. 

You weren’t exactly sure what changed, what exactly had caused Sylus’s hand to be forced. What had caused him to finally give in, choosing a partner to share the rest of his life with. 

In any case, you found yourself under Sylus’s very naked body, his thick erection nestled firmly inside your quivering walls. He was naked from the waist down, but still wore the traditional garb of the warrior ensemble’s chest harness, the bone embellishments rattling against the coarse leather. There were countless eyes around you, watching the way Sylus slid in and out of you, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Sylus did his best to use his much larger body to shield yours from the hungry stares surrounding you, wanting to take away even the tiniest bit of your obvious discomfort. You were entirely naked, as was required of women partaking in the Rite, bare and vulnerable before the many spectators. And while the thought of showing off your magnificent naked body off to others excited Sylus, as he knew that it was a sight others could behold but never have like he could, he wanted to make you as comfortable as possible. 

The warm air breezed against your naked body, only a canvas ceiling protecting you from the elements. It was a tent of sorts, without any walls, to give the crowd the best view of the Mating Rite. Of you and Sylus. 

Even though the air is warm, the, almost muggy, Grassland breeze against your bare skin makes you shiver.

“I’m sorry,” he grits, his jaw slack as you sucked him in so tightly, trying to focus on comforting you and not the way you nearly choked the orgasm out of him, “I’m sorry. I never wanted our first time…to be like this.”

His words make your mind sober up, your eyes focusing on his and not those around you. He used his thick thumb to rub the tears out of the corner of your eyes.

“It’s’okay Sylus,” you gasp, the pain of his thick cock making it difficult to speak, “I-I’m’okay.”

Sylus grimaces, hearing the choke of discomfort in your soft voice. The way your cunt felt around him was so completely and wholly blissful, and he’d be damned if he didn’t make you feel as good as you made him feel.

“Just focus on me, alright my dove?” he murmurs, his voice gruff with desire. As he continues to rock into you, unbearably gently and loving, he leans down until his lips are a mere inch from yours. 

“Let me take the pain away, hm?”

He presses his lips to yours, inhaling your gasp as he kisses you for the first time. You’d daydreamed about the way his lips would feel on yours, when you watched him train with his fellow warriors, when you’d wash fresh fruit in the brook by the clearing, when he’d watch over you, protecting you from a danger that everyone refused to tell you the truth of.

But your silly little daydreams paled in comparison to the real thing. Nothing could have prepared you for how warm and commanding his lips would be when they took yours. How his tongue, gentle yet insistent as they traced the opening of your mouth, would slip into your mouth, exploring you like he owned you. 

You never could have imagined the way he’d literally take your breath away, kissing you like he’d been waiting just as long to taste you, to have you.

It’s so wonderfully dizzying that you don’t even notice the pain of his member inside you ebbing into a burning pleasure. You don’t notice the way people holler when Sylus kisses you, the way they cheer at the scene unfolding before them. 

You squeak, a mix of a moan and a squeal when Sylus pushes so deeply into you that you briefly see warm white stars clouding your vision. Sylus groans, ripping his lips from yours to breathe out a throaty moan of pained pleasure.

“Not so tight,” he all but seethes at you. You wince at his harsh tone, doing your best to relax your squirming muscles and obey his words. Sylus instantly softens at your reaction, his hand coming up to caress your cheek.

“You’re so tight down here, sweetheart,” he grits, fingers coming down to press on your bare tummy, “It’s making it difficult for me to…control myself.”

“I-Is that…” you whimper, confused by the way he’s making your body burn with an unfamiliar pleasure, “Ngh – bad?”

Sylus chuckles, despite the tortured plea that shines in his carmine eyes, “Bad? Far from it…You feel unbelievable.”

Your heart clenches at his praises, cheeks heating at the sounds his body makes against yours. Flushed at the way people are watching Sylus claim every inch of you, your virtue. 

He continues, stroking your cheek gently, pleadingly, “But it would be embarrassing if you made me…end the Rite so quickly. In front of all these people.”

The implications of his words dawn on you and your eyes widen in a mix of surprise and disbelief. He doesn’t stop his movements even as he explains himself to you, your nails digging into his thick biceps that cage you, blocking your modesty from the spectators.

“I have an image to uphold, after all,” he smirks only half-joking, a well deserved arrogant confidence playing behind his beautiful features, “Only you would make it so difficult for me, little bird.”

“M’not trying to Sy –” you choke out, looking down and trying to focus on the way his impossible girth splits you open, and not the jeering of the crowd. You’re briefly hypnotized by the shiny ring of something filthy that encircles his base, the way his abdomen clenches with every movement he makes. 

You’re snapped out of your trance at the distinct and familiar voices, some distance behind your head. You’re acutely reminded of just how exposed you are, your thighs trying to clench shut on instinct. But Sylus’s body holds them open, his fingers gripping your chin to bring your face back to his.

“Don’t worry about them.”

“I-I just –” you whine, not even knowing what you want to say, unable to stop your eyes from darting around. You squirm when you make eye contact with the hungry eyes around you, recoiling into yourself.

“I can tell you exactly what each and every one of them are thinking,” Sylus purrs into your ear as he leans down to press his weight deliciously onto you, which only earns more hooping and hollering from the crowd, “They’re thinking about what it would be like…to be in my place.”

Sylus smirks when you shiver at his lewd words, his filthy whisperings making you inexplicably and embarrassingly excited. His voice is impossibly heated, a dangerous ferality behind them, “Thinking about what it would be like to be the one inside of you right now.”

You whine at his words, hitting his shoulder weakly, “Sylus d-don’t say that. I only want to think about you.”

Sylus groans, a beautifully deep and erotic moan of satisfaction, “Damn right. You are mine.”

He continues on, so lost in the feeling of your tight wet walls that he begins to ramble uncharacteristically, “I’m sorry, my love. I will make it up to you.”

Before you can even ask for what, Sylus is driving right back into your deepest parts, making your toes curl as you squeal unabashedly, not even registering how people cheer at the way you he fucks you.

He whispers, not paying any mind to the way people applaud the way Sylus makes your body keen, encouraging him to take you harder, “After this, little bird, I’ll show you just how good I can make you feel. Just you and me. I promise.”

As inexperienced as you were, you knew the way Sylus fucked you was otherwordly. His thrusts, both dominating and tender, his hands gentle as they squeeze your breasts, his lips as they caress yours. The way he so quickly blurred the pain to a blinding pleasure, you knew Sylus knew exactly how to use his body. 

Beyond that, you knew Sylus was well acquainted with the female body. The way he fucked you was unreal, quite literally making magic with your joined bodies. The pain had faded away, replaced with an ecstasy that nearly blocked everything else out.

Nearly.

As the whooping gets louder, Sylus only fucks you harder, trying to distract you from the crowd around you, “It’s just you and me, sweeheart.”

Despite Sylus’s comforting words, he himself was still profoundly aware of the eyes on your joined bodies. But it only served to excite him, make him harder. The way all eyes were on you, the beautiful woman he’d chosen for himself, his mate. Something they could stare at but never indulge in. It drove him insane. 

You nod, losing yourself as Sylus’s rhythmic pounding makes your nerves burn with pleasure, in a way that makes you confused and alarmed. You felt lightheaded, the pressure in your stomach overwhelming. It felt like you were losing control of your body, like you might have an accident all over him. 

“Sy-Sylus, I think something’s – nghn – happening!” you wail, “I think maybe we should – ahngh – stop.”

Sylus groans, acutely aware, even if you aren’t, that you’re nearing your very first orgasm. You squeeze him so tightly that he can’t help but meet you at the peak of that blinding pleasure.

“Let it happen, Y/N,” he soothes, trying to mask the fact that he’s about to lose his own mind from how perfectly you’re clamping down on his cock, “You’re close aren’t you?”

Your eyes widen at the realization of what this sensation is, having heard stories from the other women in the clan, almost scared of how explosive you know it’s going to be. Your fingers furiously grapple at the thick ropes of muscles on his back, scratching deep red welts into him. 

“Cum for me in front of all these people, my dove,” he coos, almost condescendingly, “Let’s show them exactly who you belong to now, hm?”

His words drip with absolute filth and it only makes the tension grow tauter, almost like a balloon being stretched to its limits before it pops. You don’t even notice when Sylus’s large hands find  the area where your bodies meet. 

Your eyes, screwed shut at the new sensations of mind and bodily bliss, fly open when he touches your most sensitive parts, rubbing furiously at the crest of your lips. The feeling is so overwhelming your back arches off the thick mat of straw and blankets that you rest on, chasing the sharp pleasure that his fingers bring onto your intimate regions.

“So responsive,” Sylus murmurs gruffly, “Just like that, my heart. Let yourself feel it, hm? For me.”

You’re honestly at a loss at how Sylus can speak to you coherently right now, if he feels even a fraction of the ecstasy he’s bestowing upon your body. 

As your eyes roll back, your mouth parted in a symphony of the most beautiful moans and whimpers, Sylus feels himself being pushed to release. The sharp claps of applause are muted as his ears ring with the overwhelming pressure of how badly his cock wants to release inside you.

For the first time, Sylus stutters, “I-I need to cum inside you. I’m sorry, my love.”

The Mating Rite required the participating parties to unify in the most intimate ways possible, and that included the sharing of essences. And the idea of that…as new as you were to the pleasures of skinship, drove you to madness.

The thought of him filling you so deeply with him, all of him. You couldn’t explain it but you wanted it more than anything you’d ever wished for.

You can’t stop yourself from begging pathetically, “I-I want it. I want you Sy. Please.”

Your voice is practically drowned out by the intensifying cheers of the crowd, but Sylus hears your pleas loud and clear. In fact it’s the only thing he can hear, his brain drowning out anything that wasn’t you.

“Do you?” Sylus smirks, trying to maintain control despite how royally fucked your words rendered him, “So filthy for such an innocent little bird.”

“Then you’d better take it all, my love.”

With frenzied fingers, Sylus sends you careening down the unfamiliar ledge of orgasmic bliss. His thrusts grow increasingly frantic, your cunt convulsing so violently that Sylus nearly wants to black out. You were so unbearably tight that his climax was forced out of him, the warm splash of milky hot seed coating every centimeter of your perfect little hole. 

As he spews into you, he feverishly takes your lips into his, desperate to taste you as his body gave you every ounce of himself. His tongue furiously finds yours, a fierce gnashing of teeth, flesh, and raw unadulterated passion. Your entire body vibrates as he moans into you, his body rocking both of you through a transcendent euphoria that will undoubtedly change your life forever. 

Neither of you can even hear the screams or the toast of applause that erupts all around you, clan members quite literally celebrating at the union of their most prized warrior. 

Sylus doesn’t still, biting the inside of his mouth as he ruts himself into a painful overstimulation. Yet, he can’t get enough of you, not wanting to pull out and be without your warmth, without you.

“The rite has been completed!”

As your body begins to come down from its dizzying heights, your senses start to return, your consciousness becoming vaguely aware of people crowding closer. 

One of the clan elders saunters over, wanting to congratulate Sylus, parade him around like a prize the clan had secured for themselves. Sylus’s body blocks his as he approaches, his head snapping back forcefully when he feels an unwanted presence encroaching on your space, intruding on his brief moment of bliss with you. 

“Sy?” you murmur wearily, your body drained of every last drop of energy, replacing your body with a heavy contentment that weighed you down. 

Sylus doesn’t respond, snapping something at the clan elder, and the other important clan members that had begun to slowly approach. Though you couldn’t hear what he said, you can make out his snarky and forceful tone, a tone you’d never heard him take, especially not with you. It was filled with an authority that would normally never be taken with those of the Elder Tribunal. 

But of course, he was Sylus.

Just like that, everyone is clearing out of the small meadow in which the Rite had taken place, heading back to the central square of the Grassland. The serenity left behind blankets you and Sylus, as he returns his attention back to you.

His manhood is still snug inside you, thick and throbbing again despite the copious amounts of slick dripping from where he still plugs you. Your legs are lazily clung to his sides, his thick body slotted between your shaking thighs. 

“Hey…” he murmurs, brushing your sweaty hair out of your face. 

Your eyes flutter open, twinkling when they catch the way Sylus drinks you in. His lips are quirked in a smirk, a classic display of Sylus-esque arrogance, but his crimson eyes are so tender, the sharp lines of his face softened. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against your clammy forehead, wrapping his arms behind your back and cradling you in his arms. He hoists you onto his lap, your legs coming to wrap around his waist, his erection still nestled into your sore walls. 

“For what?” you whisper, resting your head on his chest, trying to control the shivers that rack your body involuntarily.

“For doing this. For me.”

You glance up at him, unsure of what to say. You hardly felt like you did him a favor, between the indescribable pleasure he’d just given you and the feelings for him you’d buried deep down. 

“You don’t need to thank me,” you whisper, suddenly feeling more exposed than ever, even though the two of you finally had some privacy. 

Sylus doesn’t speak, holding you dearly as he gazes off into the flat plains of the Grassland, a few large acacia trees littered in the open fields. 

“It was…incredible,” you admit, “You’re incredible.”

Sylus looks down at you, the usual cockiness and arrogance faded, letting you really see into the soft and warm soul of the Grassland’s most revered warrior.

He bends down to kiss you, his lips impossibly soft and patient as opposed to the violent way he’d kissed you earlier. Every touch is a caress, every second precious and fleeting. 

Sylus bites back his groan as he feels himself stirring back to life inside you. He tries to focus instead on how it feels to hold you, to have you. 

He fully intended to make good on his earlier promise, showing you just how thoroughly he could love you. But for now, he just wanted to feel your lips on his, your skin against his. The way he’d always wanted. The way he’d always intended. 

A warm gust of wind sweeps through the meadow, making the foliage dance lazily. For over two decades, you’d lived between these very same blades of grass. Yet as you kissed Sylus, the Grassland had never felt quite so alive.

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[finelinefae]

bambi [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: y/n tries a dating app and meets the CEO of Pleasing

word count: 8.6k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, dating app, online dating, deer!reader, first date, first kiss, fluff, age gap (9 years)

a/n: this is the first part of a new series. as usual the first part is a lil slow to set things up but I'm excited for what's to come of this one. there's going to be a lot of cuteness and all the things i love writing about in this one so i can't wait to share more !

. . .

Most of the time Y/N didn’t want to be in control of things. 

From a young age, she had to be in charge of everything. She had three younger brothers and was born to a single mother who worked hard to keep everything afloat in their tiny, townhouse. So inevitably she became an adult before she could even buy a lottery ticket. 

Her life wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t easy. With the constant nagging from her much younger siblings and the dampened sleeve of her t-shirt—evidence of the hours she spent comforting her mother through tears—Y/N had just had enough.

Her life had become an abundance of things she was struggling to keep up with. She had no reprieve throughout her daily life, no way of stopping or just letting go. 

She worked six-hour shifts at the supermarket, studied marketing at university, did the school run in the mornings, and often in the evenings too, if her mother was too tired to get off the couch. She tutored her youngest brother, who was falling behind in math, and kept the house in order while all three of them stayed glued to the television.

Even worse, her social life was practically nonexistent.. She was twenty-one and spent her Friday nights making dino nuggets and catching up on an incessant amount of laundry from the past week. 

Y/N wasn’t sure where her life was heading. The loneliness and stress was so overwhelming she could barely breathe. 

One night, the weight of it all brought her to tears as she thought about her future after graduation. Most of the girls she knew were planning gap years, travelling to places like Brazil or Italy. She tried to picture herself boarding a plane, but the only thing she could imagine was her mother calling mid-flight, asking her to pick up one of the boys from school.

She pulled open her phone eyes blotchy and nose stuffy from crying. Her loneliness was hitting her hard and she was desperate to feel some kind of connection, even if it was five minutes of conversation. So, she opened the only dating app she had on her phone, one that she’d installed many moons ago when she wanted to open herself up to meeting new people. 

She barely used it after realising she wasn’t the best at small talk and whenever a guy would ask for a date, her introverted self would refuse to step foot out of the house. But on occasion she’d find herself wondering, searching for someone to take her mind off of everything. 

Y/N swiped past copious images of men, seemingly unphased by all of them. She swiped through so many, that they almost began to look the same - 5’9, tanned, shirtless or lifting weights trying to show some kind of strength that proved to women they were most definitely ‘manly’. 

When she started to believe all hope was lost, she paused when her eyes settled on a man who didn’t look much like the others. He was tall, with brunette curls and green eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He wore rings on his hands in every single picture and in one of them he wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal a sleeve of tattoos. In most of his pictures he wore comfy sweaters and knitted cardigans with grey or black trousers. In one of them he wore a pair of blue jeans and had a small, battered copy of The Catcher in the Rye in his back pocket. 

She read his bio beneath. 

‘Harry, 30

Likes: scrabble, food, cats, books, cardigans

Dislikes: loud chewing, music played too low, emails, wearing sunglasses indoors at dinner is absolutely criminal’

She clicked the heart on his profile, eyes widening when the words ‘MATCH’ appeared on the screen in big bubble writing. He hadn’t sent her a message but clearly he had liked her own profile which was surprising considering she had barely anything on it. 

As she was mulling over what to say to start the conversation, three bubbles quickly appeared then disappeared, replaced by a message. She held her breath, reading the words. 

Harry: Hey, pretty dress

She frowned, wondering what he meant by that but then remembered she had a picture of her on her profile, showcasing one of her favourite dresses. It was a baby pink slip dress she had made out of silk fabric. 

Y/N: Thank you, I made it! :) 

Harry: You did? Wow! Looks better than most of the ones I’ve seen in my own store.

Y/N: Do you own a clothing store?

Harry: Something along those lines

Harry: Although they don’t sell pretty dresses like yours 

Y/N: They’re probably a lot better, I use cheap materials 

She cringed at her message, hoping she didn’t sound broke or not put together by saying she used something cheap.

Harry: I’m even more impressed

She smiled, watching him type a new message. 

Harry: What brings you here?

She tried to sum up how she was feeling without making herself seem like a weirdo. She didn’t want to sound like a recluse looking for human interaction no matter how much she felt like it. 

Y/N: I’m tired of everything, just want someone to keep me company 

Harry: I get that. Should I be worried? Are you okay? 

Her heart warmed, she couldn’t remember the last time someone asked her if she was okay. 

Y/N: I’m okay now, thank you for asking !! it’s just everyday life stuff.

Harry: Of course. Just let me know if there’s anything you want to talk about. I’m right here to listen… or read 

Y/N: thank you, that truly means a lot!! xx

Harry: No problem, love x

Y/N’s heart flickered at the name he had placed on the end. 

They texted for hours, well into the middle of the night. Y/N was giddy, rolling around on her bed, smiling so hard her cheeks ached. They had so much in common—both preferred quiet nights in, were family-oriented, loved literature and art and even fashion. He was funny and sweet, always checking in to make sure she was comfortable and that he wasn’t overstepping with his questions. Despite how much they had in common, they had a lot of differences too.

Y/N: Is it raining where you are? Xx

Harry: Hm, just checked outside and I think the clouds are coming over. I don’t mind though autumn happens to be my favourite season.

Y/N: omg really? 

Harry: What? You don’t agree?

Y/N: No omg are you kidding? I’m much more into spring. I like that it’s sunny with a slight breeze so it’s warm but not too warm so you can still wear a sweater

Harry: Ahhh I see, you do give spring I must say

Y/N: You think so?

Harry: Even from looking at your pictures, you look like a tulip or something. 

Harry: Or the little deer from that movie

Harry: What was it?

Harry: Bambi!

Harry: Maybe that should be your name - Bambi 

Y/N: That’s one of my favourite movies !! 

Y/N: I happened to think Bambi is a very pretty name 

Harry: Then I’ll call you Bambi 

Y/N: Well what should I call you?

Harry: Anything you like, Bambi 

. . . 

Y/N was working her shift at the supermarket. She was already entering her final hour, her stomach rumbling as she packed frozen pizzas onto the shelves. Although she had been working hard to get things done so she could go home on time, her mind was constantly wandering. 

It had been a full week of talking to Harry. They had converted to messaging on WhatsApp after exchanging numbers and every day Y/N would wake up to a morning text message from him telling her to have a good day and that he would be right there in her pocket if she ever needed anything. In the evenings, he would make sure she wasn’t going to sleep with anything heavy on her mind. He’d ask her questions about what she ate and if she had any time to herself in the day. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt a little less lonely. She went about her day with a little pep in her step feeling the excitement of texting the man she had only just met. She didn’t know what it was about him but a part of her felt safe with him. Maybe it was the fact he was nine years older than her and knew what it was like to be under stress with so many things but he understood her in a way no one else did. 

And Bambi.

Every day, it was Bambi this and Bambi that, and every time, she’d swoon or smile at the nickname he had given her. It was silly, maybe even a little ridiculous, how much it affected her. But she couldn’t help it—every time he said it, a bubble of excitement grew inside her. She liked someone for the first time in a long time, and it brought something new, something light, into her overwhelming life.

After days of just simply texting, Y/N had asked him if he wanted to video call tonight. It would be her first time hearing what he sounded like and part of her was nervous. What if he came across differently from how he was over text? What if he didn’t look the way he did in the numerous pictures he had sent her? What if after calling tonight, he didn’t like her anymore?

Hours later, Y/N was tucked up in bed readying herself to call him. She had showered and blow-dried her hair, wearing her comfiest pink pyjamas with her body wrapped up in her duvet. Her thumb hovered over the call button, gnawing on her bottom lip as thoughts raced through her mind.

She gasped when Harry’s face appeared on her screen just seconds after she pressed call. It was their first time ever talking like this, and her heart raced as she took in the sight of him. He was sitting in a desk chair, a large framed artwork hanging on the wall behind him. His shirt was slightly rumpled, his tie loosened around the collar, and his curls fell lazily across his forehead. He looked so effortlessly handsome, it almost didn’t seem real.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice breaking the stillness of her bedroom. It carried a warmth, soft and steady, like the glow of a campfire, and she felt herself melt under its gentle heat.

“H-Hi,” she squeaked, her cheeks immediately flushing with warmth. Her nerves bubbled up as she realized she was staring at him, trying to comprehend that this was actually happening. Surely she was dreaming, she pinched herself to make sure. 

Harry’s eyes softened when he heard her shaky greeting. “You alright?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, amused smile. His tone was gentle, almost teasing, but there was something deeper there—like he was studying her reaction and enjoying every second of it.

She nodded quickly, fumbling with the hem of her pyjama shirt. “I’m good! Just… surprised you answered so fast.” She giggled nervously, her voice high-pitched and sweet, like she couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “I thought it’d take a few rings at least.” Her blush deepened as she tucked her knees up to her chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm, making her heart flutter. “I was waiting for you to call,” he admitted, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. 

Her heart skipped a beat, and she shyly glanced up at him through her lashes. “Really?” she asked, her voice soft and a little disbelieving. 

He smiled, a slow, adoring smile that made her stomach flip. “Yeah, really. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” His voice had that low, confident tone, but his gaze was gentle, like he wanted to make sure she knew he meant it. “The only thing getting me through work.”

“You’re still at work? It’s nine-thirty!” she exclaimed, glancing at the clock in disbelief.

Harry’s lips curled into a playful smirk. “Is it past your bedtime, Bambi?” he teased, leaning back in his chair as he glanced at her through the screen.

Her heart stuttered hearing that nickname come from his own mouth. She felt like if the camera wasn’t on, she’d be floating around her room like a bright pink orb of light, “N-No,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “But shouldn’t you be going home by now? You’ve been working all day.”

He let out a small chuckle, shrugging as he glanced down at the papers scattered across his desk. “Got a lot to catch up on. Too many late nights spent talking to you.” His voice was warm, laced with affection despite his teasing.

Her heart sank for a moment, guilt creeping in. They’d been texting non-stop for weeks, and she hadn’t once thought about how it might be affecting his workload. He’d told her before that he worked for a clothing company, and it suddenly hit her how busy he must be.

Noticing the shift in her expression, Harry’s voice softened. “Y’thinking too much in that little head of yours?” he asked, cutting through her thoughts.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted quietly, biting her lip.

He shook his head, eyes never leaving hers. “You know I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, right? I love talking to you, Y/N. I think... I might even be a little obsessed with you,” he confessed, his smirk turning into a softer smile.

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, all she could do was stare at him, her heart thudding in her chest. “I-I think I’m obsessed with you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. 

“Yeah?” His voice was full of warmth, a hint of disbelief in it, like he hadn’t expected her to say it back. She nodded shyly, clutching her pillow tighter against her chest, her heart racing.

Harry huffed out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face to hide the wide grin that had taken over. “God, you’re even cuter than I imagined,” he murmured, his words full of adoration.

They talked for hours, diving into everything and anything that crossed their minds. It was the longest conversation they’d had since they started talking, and Y/N found herself more captivated by Harry than she thought was possible. The way he laughed, the way he listened—it all just pulled her in deeper.

In the middle of her sentence, she noticed Harry looking at her with an unusually soft expression, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite place. He suddenly spoke, cutting her off mid-thought. “Can I take you on a date?” His voice was gentle but firm, catching her completely off guard.

“O-Oh,” she stammered, blinking in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to want to meet her so soon, but her heart leapt at the thought. “I’d like that,” she replied, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Very much.”

His own smile widened, a mix of relief and excitement in his eyes. “How about Saturday evening? I could pick you up.”

“But wouldn’t that be too long of a drive?” she asked, biting her lip. She knew he lived in the city, about forty minutes away without traffic, and she didn’t want to inconvenience him.

Harry’s expression didn’t falter. “It’s not too far at all. Trust me, I don’t mind,” he said confidently. “I’ll pick you up at 8, sound good?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, the idea of seeing him in person making her pulse race. She nodded shyly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mhm, that sounds perfect.”

Harry’s grin grew, his eyes twinkling, “Can you wear the pretty dress you made?”

Y/N blushed, “You don’t want me to wear something a little more sophisticated?” 

“Y’ can wear whatever makes you comfortable, I don’t mind but I think I’d like to see that little dress y’ made.” 

She nodded, stifling a yawn as it slipped out. It was getting late, and Harry was still at his office, working. “Y’tired, lovie?” His voice softened.

“A little,” she lied, knowing full well she was more than exhausted. But the thought of ending the call made her chest tighten—she wanted to keep him on the line, even just for a few more minutes.

Harry chuckled softly as if he could see right through her. “Why don’t you rest those pretty eyes for me, yeah?” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, the gentle authority in his words making her entire body relax. She practically melted at the sound, her heart skipping a beat.

“M’kay,” she whispered, her eyelids already heavy as she let herself sink deeper into the comfort of his voice.

“I’ll be right here, alright?” he reassured her, his tone gentle and full of warmth.

She managed a soft smile, her words barely audible as her exhaustion overtook her. “Promise?”

“Promise Bambi,” he whispered, his voice the last thing she heard before sleep pulled her under.

. . .

“Mr. Styles?”

Harry looked up from his computer, peering over the rims of his glasses. His receptionist, Lindsey, stood in the doorway. “The samples for the newest collection have arrived. Would you like me to bring them in?” she asked, her voice polite but efficient, as always.

“Yes, please, Lindsey,” he replied with a sigh, signing off another email before hitting send. The endless stream of tasks had him feeling drained.

Though Harry wasn’t usually the type to show much warmth towards his employees, Lindsey was different. She’d been with him for years—long enough to earn not just his respect, but his trust. She was one of the very few people he relied on within his company. 

Harry was the CEO of Pleasing, a major fashion company he had built from the ground up. His first line had been designed in a small studio, crafted with his own hands and the help of a few close friends who still worked by his side. Now, it was a global brand. He was on Forbes 30 under 30 and had features in magazines like GQ. He was even in Time magazine for most influential people. 

Despite all the success, his day-to-day life had become an endless loop of emails, business meetings, and deadlines. Time for anything outside of work was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Lately, though, something, or rather someone, had started to make him reconsider how he spent his time.

He checked his phone once more having only picked it up a minute ago for the same reason. He hoped to see a message from Y/N, in fact he was eager to. Ever since he had messaged her on the only dating app he used, he hadn’t thought of anyone else but her. 

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, one born out of the loneliness that weighed heavier than ever that night. Harry sat in his dimly lit office, the silence around him almost suffocating. He hadn’t dated in over a year, not since his last relationship, which had ended on a bitter note. That girl had taken advantage of him, using his desire of the relationship he wanted to manipulate him. She had drained his bank accounts, maxed out his credit cards on shopping sprees and lavish holidays with her friends, leaving him both financially and emotionally exhausted. After that, he’d grown wary of trusting anyone.

When he joined the website, he wasn’t exactly hopeful. The chance of finding someone who truly understood his career and mirrored his desires in a relationship seemed slim.

But then he met his Bambi. 

He hadn’t been searching for anything specific that day, just scrolling aimlessly, but something about Y/N’s profile made him pause. There was a warmth to her, a genuine spark that went beyond her pictures. She didn’t seem to realise just how captivating she was, and that drew him in even more. It wasn’t just her beauty—though she was stunning—it was the way she spoke about the things she loved. Her messages were full of passion, filled with rambles about her favourite books, little moments in her day, or random thoughts that popped into her head. 

Y/N had ignited something within him. He was excited for this newfound thing they had going on, a spark he hadn’t felt in years. Every message from her left him smiling at his phone, wondering what she’d say next. It was the kind of excitement that made the day feel a little brighter, knowing she was just a text away. He found himself looking forward to the simplest things—her daily updates, the way she’d ramble about something she’d seen or read, and even the photo updates she’d send him of things she was doing.

For the first time in a long time, he found himself imagining what it would be like to share his life with someone, instead of the quiet solitude he’d grown so used to. He couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N being that person—the one to bring warmth into the corners of his once-lonely home. He pictured what it would be like to have someone in his space, their presence adding a new kind of lightness. Someone to be there in the small, everyday moments and to keep him company after a long day at the office. 

He couldn’t wait to meet her in real life, hold her in his hands and kiss the lips he spent nights dreaming about. 

Harry snapped out of his daze when Lindsey opened the door and the manufacturers entered the room behind her, holding the fabric samples in their hands. They greeted him timidly, laying the samples on the table by the large floor-to-ceiling windows. 

He walked over, black polished shoes clicking against the mahogany wood floor. He sighed when he took in the samples, he didn’t need to feel them to know they weren’t good enough. Uncapping the red pen, he drew a cross beside each sample, the men behind him releasing a shaky breath. 

“Come back when you have what I want,” He murmured, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. 

He checked the time on his watch and cursed. Today was his niece’s birthday and he promised his sister he’d visit in time for her birthday party this afternoon. “Lindsey,” He called, hearing her shoes against the floor before she opened the door to his office. 

He pulled on his blazer, “I’ve got to leave, did you wrap that gift I gave you the other day?” 

Lindsey frowned, “It’s under my desk but what about your meetings this afternoon?” 

“Cancel them.” He shrugged.

His Porsche was parked out front by the time he stepped out of the building. He put the gift into the passenger seat and made a mental note to stop somewhere to buy a birthday card. 

He glanced at his phone when a text came through.

Bambi: Half way through my shift. It’s been pretty rough, sorry for the late reply xx

His heart leapt when Y/N’s name appeared. He took his phone when he reached a red light and typed in a reply.

Harry: it’s okay lovie, call me when you finish yeah? x

He was desperate to speak to her even if it were just for a mere few seconds. 

Making a left turn, he pulled into the parking lot of a small supermarket on the highway. It looked run down and old but there wasn’t anywhere else he could go to before he reached his sister's house.

People sat outside, smoking cigarettes and drinking out of beer cans. He ignored the glances they made towards him and his car. 

He stepped inside and walked along the aisles, pausing when he noticed someone stacking things onto a shelf. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her. She was wearing blue jeans and a fuzzy white sweater, her hair was braided and fastened with pink, silk bows. She wore wired earbuds, her pink ballerina flats tapping against the laminate flooring. 

She must have felt his gaze because her head lifted, eyes widening as they met his. Her soft, pink lips parted slightly, and in that instant, it was as if the world shifted—everything falling perfectly into place between them, as though they were always meant to find each other naturally. 

Harry hadn’t noticed the sugar spilling from the bag she was holding until the store manager stormed over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sharp tone made Y/N jump, her body snapping upright as she stood frozen in front of her manager, fear flashing across her face.

“I-I’m s-sorry, I—” Y/N stammered, her voice trembling.

“How many times do I have to hear the same excuse from you?” her manager snapped. “Stupid, useless girl, costing me the whole damn shop.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. “I-I know... I promised it wouldn’t happen again. It was an accident, really,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady.

Harry’s frown deepened. Again? This had happened before?

From the way Y/N stood there, trying so hard not to cry, it was painfully clear—this wasn’t the first time her boss had spoken to her like this.

Harry’s jaw tightened as he watched the exchange, a surge of protectiveness rising in him. He had only known Y/N recently, but seeing her like this—small, vulnerable, and clearly hurt—stirred something deep within him. He couldn’t just stand there and let it happen.

“Excuse me,” Harry spoke up, his voice calm but firm, stepping closer. The store manager turned to him, annoyance flashing across his face.

“This doesn’t concern you,” the manager spat, his glare shifting to Harry.

“Actually, I think it does,” Harry replied, his eyes steady on the man. “You don’t need to speak to her like that.”

The manager scoffed. “And who the hell are you?”

Harry didn’t blink, his voice lowering. “Someone who knows when respect is lacking.”

Y/N looked up at Harry, wide-eyed, as if she couldn’t believe he was stepping in. Her heart raced, a mix of relief and anxiety bubbling inside her. She wasn’t used to anyone standing up for her like this.

“Y/N, why don’t you take a minute?” Harry said softly, glancing over at her, his voice now gentle and reassuring. The tears in her eyes made his chest physically hurt. He’d be quick with this useless piece of shit so he could give her all his attention.

She hesitated but then nodded, her gaze flicking between Harry and her boss. She quickly turned, slipping away from the confrontation, her hands shaking as she tried to compose herself.

Harry turned back to the manager, his calm exterior masking the frustration brewing underneath. “Speak to her like that again, and I won’t hesitate to have this place torn down, brick by brick, and replaced with a building I own. Then you’ll know firsthand what it’s like to deal with a real fucking manager.” 

With that, he turned on his heel, already making a mental note to have his team look into this place. It was clearly lacking in more ways than one—enough to warrant being shut down for good he hoped. 

Y/N stood behind the building, her back to him, shoulders trembling as she cried into her sleeve. Harry’s heart clenched at the sight. “Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured softly, stepping forward and gently pulling her into his chest. “Tha’s enough now, Bambi. Don’t waste your tears on him,” he whispered, his large hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Holding her close felt unexpectedly right, as if this was exactly where she belonged, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she sniffled, her voice small. “This isn’t how I wanted you to see me for the first time.”

His eyes softened with affection as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. Carefully, he wiped her tear-stained, blotchy cheeks, his touch tender. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart,” he whispered, “S’alright now, y’ don’t have to go back in there.” He cupped the back of her head, feeling how soft and silky her hair was. He couldn’t seem to fathom that he was actually holding her after days of imagining what she would feel like.

She pulled away and for the first time Harry could get a proper look at her. He didn’t think it possible for her to be even more beautiful than the pictures he had of her on her phone but she was. Her features were soft, cheeks permanently pink like the colour of tulips on a spring day, her lips were the perfect shape, so delicate like two petals pressed together. She was a walking angel. 

“Hey stranger,” He grinned, those perfect cheeks turning pink. If Harry had one goal in his life it was to make her all flustery and blushy. 

“Hi,” She peeped, hands fiddling in front of her.

Her eyes widened when she saw the tear stains on his shirt, the damp spots revealing the tiniest hint of the tattoos on his torso. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your shirt,” She cringed.

“Hey no need to apologise, ‘s not even ruined and I’d rather you were okay than some easily replaceable shirt.” He assured her. “Are y’ sure you’re okay? Don’t need to go in there and beat him up or anything,”

She smiled at that and the sight made his heart sing, “No it’s okay. I-I’m okay, thank you for looking out for me. I don’t normally have people doing that very often.”

He frowned. He didn’t like how often she spoke about how little help she got from other people. If anything, it made him want to take care of her even more than he already did. 

“I should probably head back in. I still have three more hours of my shift,” she huffed, clearly reluctant. It was the last thing she wanted to do.

Harry’s expression softened, but his tone remained firm. “You don’t have to,” he said, his gaze holding hers, protective and unwavering.

Y/N frowned, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “But I need the job, Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I can’t just leave.”

His jaw tightened at her words. He hated seeing her stuck in a place that didn’t value her, where she wasn’t respected. “I know you need the job,” he replied, gentler now, trying to ease her worry. “But no job is worth being treated like that. Not by him.”

She bit her lip, glancing back at the store, anxiety clearly weighing on her. “What am I supposed to do, then? I can’t afford to lose it.”

Harry stepped closer, his hand finding its way to her cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You’re not going to lose anything,” he said softly. “Let me take care of it. Of you.”

Y/N blinked up at him, her heart pounding. “Take care of me?”

“Come work with me,” He offered. 

There weren’t many positions available at Pleasing, but Harry didn’t care. He’d make something work—anything to keep her from going back into that place and dealing with the jerk inside.

“In the city? I... I can’t do that, Harry. I still have school, and my brothers...”

“You can work around it,” he said quickly, eager to find a solution. “I’ll pay for your gas to and from the city, or I’ll have someone drive you. Hell, I’ll drive you myself if it makes you feel better. Whatever you need. Just don’t stay here.”

He sighed softly, taking her small hand in his larger one, her warmth a comfort even as doubt flickered between them. “Just... think about it, yeah?” His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of her hand, trying to ease the tension.

Y/N hesitated but nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

A grin spread across Harry’s face, his relief palpable. “Thank you Bambi.” He swore he saw her pupils carve into love hearts at his words. 

. . . 

Y/N hadn’t returned to her job at the store just as she promised Harry. It wasn’t only because Harry was insistent she didn’t go back but her manager had been pretty verbally abusive for quite some time now and she thought better than to go back and work for someone who was just plain mean. 

A few days had passed and Saturday rolled around quickly. Y/N was giddy with excitement, preparing everything in time for Harry to pick her up to take her on their very first date this evening. She had arranged a babysitter to look after her brothers since her mother wouldn’t be home until late. It wasn’t often they splurged cash on hiring a babysitter but Y/N wasn’t going to rearrange her date with Harry for anything.

She’d made a list of everything she needed to do: wash and blow dry her hair, shave every inch of her body, and paint her nails with the glazed pink polish she’d ordered online. Her hair was in curlers as she carefully laid out her outfit for the evening—a pink satin slip dress she’d made herself, paired with white kitten heels that matched perfectly. With the season shifting into autumn, she added a thin white cardigan to keep her warm in case the night turned chilly on the way home.

She wanted to look perfect. Especially after the fiasco the other day when he had rescued her from her mean manager. 

Everything seemed to move in slow motion the moment she laid eyes on the man from her phone. He was even more perfect than she had imagined—taller too. It still hadn’t sunk in that she was about to go on a date with this man—the one who wore a black suit to work and had saved her from cruel, terrifying managers.

And the way he spoke to her afterwards, comforting her with his big, heavy hands around her. She wanted him to pick her up and take her wherever he went. 

Y/N sighed blissfully in front of her vanity. As Y/N finished her makeup, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry. 

Harry: Just outside x

She peeked through the window, catching sight of him standing by a sleek black car, leaning casually against the door. He looked breathtaking in a fitted black suit, hands in his pockets as he scanned the street. Her nerves fluttered, a mixture of excitement and anticipation bubbling up. She took a deep breath, smoothed down her dress, and grabbed her cardigan before heading out the door. 

The moment she stepped outside, Harry’s gaze snapped to her, dark and intense. He straightened up, eyes travelling over her form, taking in every detail of her appearance. The way he looked at her sent a shiver down her spine.

“Y’ look stunning, Bambi,” he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. He took a step closer, his large hand cupping her cheek, thumb grazing her soft skin. “All this f’ me?”

Y/N blushed, biting her bottom lip nervously. “I-I wore the dress you wanted,” she mumbled shyly, looking up at him through her lashes, “Do you like it?” 

“‘S perfect,” He murmured lowly. 

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” He opened the car door for her, watching as she slid into the passenger seat, her delicate form contrasting with the dark interior of his Porshe. Harry’s eyes lingered on her legs for a moment before he shut the door and walked around to his side.

Once inside, he reached over, resting his hand on her thigh, the warmth of his touch comforting her immediately. “You nervous?” he asked, glancing at her with a small smile, though the look in his eyes held a trace of dominance.

“A little,” Y/N admitted, her voice soft and shy.

Harry gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. “Y’ don’t have to be nervous around me, love, promise ‘m not scary. Least of all t’ you.” 

Y/N smiled, loving how he made it clear she was different, that he treated her in a way no one else could. It warmed her to feel special, especially when that feeling was rare for her.

As they drove, their conversation flowed easily. Y/N found herself opening up more and more, rambling about anything that came to mind. Harry listened intently, his smile soft as he asked questions, showing genuine interest in everything she said. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the car, and each time she answered bashfully, his lips curved. 

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as they drove deeper into the city. The lights grew brighter, illuminating a part of town she rarely found herself in—where the wealthy lived, with towering apartment complexes and upscale restaurants lining the streets. Harry pulled over in front of a sleek Italian restaurant, where a man stood waiting by the curb.

“Are we allowed to park here?” Y/N asked, her face bathed in the glow of the restaurant’s lights.

Harry suppressed a grin at her confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well… I just assumed we weren’t eating here, which is totally fine! You don’t need to impress me with a fancy restaurant.” Her cheeks flushed pink as she tried to clarify.

Harry’s lips curled into a teasing smirk. “What if I told you we are eating here?”

Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A-are we?”

Without answering, Harry reached for her hand, brushing his lips over the back of it. “Y’ too cute,” he murmured. “Come on, they’re waiting for us.” He stepped out of the car, passing his keys to the valet standing nearby, before adjusting his blazer and moving to open the door for her, his hand stretched out toward her for her to grab onto. 

Y/N hesitated, her mind reeling. There was no way they were eating at this restaurant—the kind with a year-long reservation list and three Michelin stars. She’d heard rumours that a single course here could cost more than her entire paycheck for the week. But as she took his hand and stepped out, it felt impossible to believe this was really happening.

Harry intertwined their fingers, offering a brief nod to the waiter who opened the door for them. “Harry… are you sure? They probably don’t have any tables for people just walking in,” she whispered.

He chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, love. I made some arrangements.”

Her brows furrowed in surprise. “Arrangements? How?”

Stopping at the ‘Please Wait to Be Seated’ sign, Harry finally turned to her with a playful twinkle in his eye. “I own the restaurant.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open as a waiter approached, menus tucked neatly under his arm. “Good evening, Mr. Styles. Your table is ready.”

Feeling like she was in a dream, Y/N walked hand-in-hand with Harry to a private table near the large glass windows at the back. The breathtaking view of the city’s skyline stretched out before them, and the table, set for two, was tucked away to offer them some privacy. 

As they were seated, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the quiet stares and murmurs from other guests. She knew Harry owned a clothing business, but… just how successful was he?

The waiter laid the menus out in front of them and left them to decide what they wanted to order. Y/N hadn’t even noticed as her wide eyes gazed around the room at the glowing chandeliers. 

Harry reached for her hand beneath the table, “Are y’ okay love?” He asked. Y/N’s gaze snapped towards him, “I hope ‘s not too much.”

“H-Harry, I really appreciate you bringing me here, I mean even stepping inside is a dream come true, but… I c-can’t afford this.” She felt awful saying it but it was true and it was better to tell him now than when she’d finished her meal, she wouldn’t want him thinking she was out for his money.

Harry frowned, “Bambi, this is a date. Y’ don’t have to pay for anything.”

“B-but I can’t use your money.” She told him. 

She couldn’t hear it but Harry’s heart was singing in his chest. She was exactly what he was looking for someone totally opposite to all the women he had dated in his past. 

He cupped her cheek in his hand, “Look at me Y/N,” Big, doe eyes gazed into his, “Please stop worrying and let me take care of you. I know y’ haven’t been given that in the past but ‘m here now and I want this. I wanted to bring y’ here and I want y’ to be spoiled and I want to treat you in the way you deserve. So can you pick something from the menu and let me look after you Bambi baby, please? Think you can do that?”

Her lips parted, slowly nodding her head but she quickly said one last thing, “You don’t have to take me to fancy places to make me feel spoiled Harry. I already feel spoiled enough just getting to be with you.”

He smiled, eyes glistening under the low light of the chandelier. He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed as a small thank you. “Have you decided what you’re going to eat?”

"Hmmm," Harry grinned, watching Y/N's pouted lips as she studied the menu with intense concentration. "I can't decide between the truffle pasta or the smoked salmon!" she huffed, clearly torn.

"How about this," he offered with a shrug, "I’ll get the smoked salmon, you get the truffle pasta, and we can share? That way you can try both."

She glanced up at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t want something else?”

He had been planning on ordering the steak and potatoes, but seeing how much this small decision seemed to weigh on her, he didn’t mind changing his mind. The smoked salmon was one of his favourite dishes anyway.

When the waiter came over, Harry confidently placed the order for both of them, which made Y/N visibly relax. She hated the pressure of ordering her own food, so the simple act of him taking charge made her feel instantly at ease.

“We’ll make sure to have your order as a priority, Mr. Styles,” the waiter nodded respectfully before walking away.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow. They must really like you here.”

Harry chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t I mention I owned a clothing business?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, “But I thought it was just a boutique or something.” She shrugged, clearly unaware of the scale.

Harry laughed a warm, deep sound that made her stomach flip. “Bambi,” he said, pulling her gently into his side until their cheeks were almost touching, “See that guy’s sweater? That woman’s hat? And that lady’s dress over there?” She nodded everytime he pointed towards them, her heart skipping a beat at their closeness. “We made all of those.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “W-wait, you own Pleasing?”

Harry nodded, a small, proud smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Y/N couldn’t even count how many times she had opened the Pleasing website, scrolling through pages of clothes she desperately wanted but couldn’t afford. And now, she was sitting across from its owner—no, she was on a date with him.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pulling away slightly to gauge her reaction. "Which reminds me, have you given any more thought to the job?"

She had, actually. The idea had been rolling around in her mind ever since he’d mentioned it. "What's the role again?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"My assistant," Harry replied smoothly. "You’d help with emails, scheduling meetings, running errands—nothing too complicated. Just being my right hand.”

“Wouldn’t that be awkward, though? Since we’re, y’know... dating?”

Harry smirked, catching the implication. "So, there’s going to be a second date?" His teasing tone made her blush. “And if anything, it makes it better. I’d get to see you every day instead of just texting."

“But what about school?” Y/N asked, trying to think practically.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said easily. “Whatever you need. We can make it work.”

“Shouldn’t there be an interview or something?” she quipped, trying to lighten the moment, though her heart was racing.

Harry sighed dramatically, playing along. “Alright. Hello, Miss Y/L/N. Welcome to your official interview for the position of Mr. Styles’ personal assistant.”

Y/N giggled, her nerves easing as she followed his lead. “Well, hello Mr. Styles. Thank you for having me.”

Harry’s lips curled into a smile, his eyes twinkling as he played along. “First question,” he said, leaning closer, their faces now just inches apart. “How do you feel about spending every day with me? Answer carefully—it’s a tough one.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Well, Mr. Styles, I think I could manage that.”

“Good answer,” he praised, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. “Next question: Can you handle a man who’s very particular about his coffee?”

She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow in playful suspicion. “Are we talking normal particular, or... like, twelve-steps-to-make-a-single-cup particular?”

Harry chuckled, his dimples deepening. “Maybe somewhere in between. But don’t worry, I can teach you.”

Y/N laughed softly, her nerves easing even more. Being around him was easy, natural—like slipping into something familiar and warm. “I think I could handle that.”

"One last question," Harry murmured, leaning in even closer. His gaze flickered to her lips for a brief second before locking back onto her eyes. "How do you feel about sneaking around with your boss?"

Her laughter died down, a trace of seriousness replacing it. She knew the risks—things had to stay professional, no hint of their relationship could slip through especially since Harry would not only be her boss but was the Senior Director and had to have the respect of everyone.  But still, she couldn’t resist.

“I think it could be fun,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Good,” He murmured, “I think you’ve passed the test, Bambi,” Y/N noticed how close his lips were to hers, if she moved her face forward they’d be touching, “Any questions?”

. . . 

Harry pulled the car up to the curb just outside Y/N’s house, the gentle hum of the engine fading as he switched it off. The street was quiet, the only light coming from the street lamps casting long shadows on the pavement. Inside her house, the windows were dark, and she silently hoped her brothers were already asleep, sparing her the awkwardness of explaining why she wasn’t rushing inside.

The silence between them felt comfortable yet charged, neither making a move to leave. It was as if both of them knew the night shouldn’t end yet, even though it had to at some point. Y/N looked down at her hands, nervously tracing the edge of her coat, stealing glances at Harry every few moments. He seemed deep in thought, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel, but the same hesitation hung in the air between them.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said softly, her voice breaking the silence.

He turned to her, his expression soft but intent, as if weighing every word. “Don’t need t’ thank me Bambi,” he replied, his eyes lingering on her face a moment longer than necessary. 

“I wish I didn’t have to go home,” She huffed, looking down at her fingers on her lap.

Harry’s lips curved into a small smile, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. He leaned back in his seat, turning his body slightly toward her. “Y’ want to go back to mine?”

She wanted nothing more, the pain of saying no physically paining her, “M-my brothers... they have school,” she murmured.

“S okay,” He smiled. 

The air between them felt thick with unspoken feelings, and she could feel her heart race as the weight of his gaze settled on her. He reached over, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch soft.

“Bambi,” he said quietly, his voice suddenly more intimate, like he was laying something important on the table.

She turned to face him fully, her breath catching as his fingers brushed against her cheek, lingering just long enough to make her pulse race. The space between them seemed to vanish, and suddenly, all she could think about was the way his lips would feel against hers.

Neither of them spoke. The tension that had been simmering all evening finally boiled over. Harry’s hand cupped her cheek, and in that quiet moment under the dim streetlights, he leaned in.

The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, like they were both testing the waters. But as soon as their lips touched, a wave of emotion flooded over her, and she couldn’t help but respond. Her hand found its way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, slow and lingering. It wasn’t rushed or hurried—just soft, warm, and full of everything Y/N had been dreaming about for longer than she cared to admit. 

When they finally pulled apart, Harry rested his forehead against hers, both of them catching their breath, their lips still tingling from the kiss. His hand lingered on her cheek, as though neither of them was ready to let the moment slip away just yet.

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, maybe to break the silence or make a joke about how long they’d waited for this. But before she could speak, a loud thud startled her. She turned her head, eyes widening as the lights in her house flickered on. And there they were—her brothers, pressed against the living room window, grinning like fools and making exaggerated kissy faces at them.

“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, mortified. Her face flushed a deep shade of red as she fumbled with her seatbelt. "This is so embarrassing."

She pushed the door open and scrambled out of her seat, grabbing her purse in a flurry of panic. “I am so sorry, Harry. I-I have to go,” she stammered, her words tumbling out in a rush as she awkwardly tried to regain her composure. “Thank you for dinner, a-and the kiss! Oh, and the job too!”

In her haste, her heel caught on a paving stone, and she stumbled slightly, her purse nearly slipping from her hand as she made her way toward the front door.

Harry watched her, his mouth half open, caught between amusement and disbelief. She was flustered, rambling, and absolutely adorable. He couldn't stop the soft chuckle that escaped him as he leaned back in his seat, shaking his head.

"Bambi!" he called out the car window, grinning. “I'll take that as a yes on the job?”

Y/N turned back briefly, her face flushed but her smile shy and genuine. “Yes! Definitely yes!” she called over her shoulder, before hurrying inside, her brothers still laughing from the window.

As she disappeared through the door, Harry chuckled to himself, the warmth from their kiss still lingering. He turned the ignition on, shaking his head in disbelief at how the night had unfolded. It was far from the graceful goodbye he had imagined, but somehow, it felt perfect. He couldn’t stop smiling as he pulled away from the curb. 

Yeah, he thought to himself, that definitely meant she was taking the job.

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw

Taking one of Simon’s balaclava from the closet, inhaling the lingering musk snd cologne scent while rubbing your pussy needily on the bedsheet. He went on a short mission for a few days, and you missed him, miss how he call you sweetheart with that gruff voice, miss how he sit you on his lap, murmuring sweet nothings while his hand

sneaks pass the waistband of your panties, pinching and flicking your clit to warm you up for his big cock, miss how his veiny and sturdy arms wrap around you while you fall asleep while basking in each other’s presence.

You kiss the balaclava on where his lips should be, but that’s not enough, the ache in your chest leads you to scramble to the closet again, taking out a pair of his skeleton gloves, putting those far-too-large gloves on as you slump down on the bed you two shared again, mimicking how he kneaded and rolled the sweet spot hidden between your slick folds, until you finally reach your high, dampening his gloves with your juices.

You tuck the used balaclava and gloves deep inside a discreet drawer, welcoming Simon back home the next day. He got a crazy amount of gloves and balaclava, sure he wouldn’t notice missing a pair or two, right? You try to convince yourself, till the day you think you finally get a chance to wash those fabric stained with the evidence of your guilty pleasure, that he appears behind you silently and catch you scrubbing them.

You have no one to blame other than yourself when getting put over his knees moments later, pajamas shorts pulled down, ass in the air and whining every time he lands a light slap on your reddened buttocks.

“Think I wouldn’t notice, hmm?” He rubs the spot he just hit gently, soothing that delicious tingle briefly “How many times did you come with my balaclava and my gloves?”

You look back at him, trying to respond with the vibrating dildo deep inside your squelching cunt messing your mind. “One ti-One- ngh…” your incoherentness brings yourself another slap, this time land carefully just above your stretched cunt and on the clit.

“Say it clearly, princess, can’t understand when you’re talking in moans.” Simon rubs your skin after the soft smack again, just like what he did whenever he gives you a teasing slap, but him rolling your over-sensitive bud that just got a sweet slap, only flares up your desire and makes you unable to think straight, his fingers and the dildo occupied your thoughts as you manage to answer more comprehensibly.

“One…only one time…” Your staccato reply receives a feign pity glance from him.

“Only one time? poor girl.” He grabs the base of the vibrating dildo and thrust in and out “Look how you lube this dildo with your juices so well, love. Finally satisfied?”

“No! No…please…” You paw at the bedsheets desperately, happy that he might end his ‘punishment’ soon, yet afraid that you won’t get the thing you truly craved. “Need you, Simon, please…! need you inside”

He grins imperceptibly, though the arrogance in his heart is satiated. That’s what he wants to hear, hear you say out loud about how much you need him, how only him can fuck you in the way others can’t.

Pulling the dildo out, seeing how your cunt grabbing onto it like you try to swallow it back in, he fish out his cock, standing straight and leaking profusely from enjoying the show “No need to feel empty for the lost, sweetheart, you’ll get what you deserve now.”

Simon press the tip of his length at your entrance, looking at you with smugness within those brown eyes, and he knows it’s going to be a long night when you gaze back with droopy eyes, still coming down from the edge, with a bliss-out smile spread across your glossy lips.

[bindeds]

𐔌  ✦₊  PRINCESS TREATMENT  𝜗𝜚 . WRIOTHESLEY  𑁤

⭑ — the duke shows you unending generosity when you visit your inmate father often and long past visiting hours due to your long shifts at work. Your father blows up at you again and wriothesley is more worried than he should be. As he walks you back to the surface, you find out why. 

wc. 8.5k cw.   nsfw 18+ , fem reader ,  hints of reader having a toxic family , reader’s father doesn’t trust wrio , reader probably has daddy issues , pent up wrio , soft wrio , fwb , wrio being courteous as hell , nicknames used: good girl, princess

៳ note.   I haven’t played genshin in years so I’m probably going to get something wrong despite my research (wasn’t sure if transport in fontaine was 24/7 and if submarines/boats are used often or easily accessible), apologies in advance. And also, I think this is a very specific flavor of wrio I have barely seen others write so I hope you enjoy anyhow. I actually have more headcanons abt this fic so if you want a part 2 lmk! :D oh shit I’ve been working on this for a week straight too and I didn’t proofread it so AGH sorry for many mistakes! (p.s. I take requests too!) here’s the ao3 link if you prefer to read on there <3

“Agh, forget it. You know what? Since you’re always coming back here, you ought to know one thing; that duke? He’s bad news.” 

You pressed your lips into a thin line. Your grip on the phone against your ear tightened.

You frowned at your father from across the clear plastic between you both, refusing to look at him properly as you lowered your head. 

You sighed, shutting your eyes for a moment. “What’s wrong with the duke?”

“He’s corrupt, I’m telling you. He favors some prisoners over others. Everyone will tell you he’s just but he’s not!” Your father hissed, the microphone dulling the low noises he made. 

“Dad. Why are we even—” you sighed again, this time pressing your fingers on your temples, and part of you thinks maybe this was your subconscious shielding you from him since you refused to leave yourself. “First of all, I am always here way past visiting hours. Who do you think allows that?”

Your father grumbled something under his breath, probably a curse—but it was hard for you to care.

“Second of all, we’re always dodging the topic. Why don’t you ever want to talk about our fam—”

“I’ve told you a million times!”

You flinched away from the metal desk, your father practically baring his teeth at you with wild eyes that seemed to set his complexion on fire.

“Alright, that’s enough,” a guard from behind him chimed in, clutching your father firmly by the elbows and upper arms. He scowled at you before turning back to where the guard was leading him.

When your name was called you nearly jumped out of your seat, both your hands clutching the thick-wired telephone to your chest.

“Hey, you okay?” 

The Duke gave you a once over and returned to your eyes. His brows furrowed, and for a moment, looking into his eyes felt too revealing.

“Yeah, sorry,” you replied as you returned the phone to its hook and curtly stood up. 

“Don’t apologize.”

You gave him a puzzled look, but he wasn’t looking as he escorted you down the halls and towards the lifts. “No, I insist. I keep staying past the visiting hours despite knowing them well—”

“Yes, and, you work for over twelve hours nearly everyday. I don’t think I want you getting up at four in the morning just to be able to visit either.”

The duke clenched his jaw just then. Your hands grew clammy. Other than his legs, he barely moved at all. His muscles were ice and his veins were held in place with coats of steel. 

You remembered you had told him the reason for your late night visits early on, but his response stunned you to the point of being unable to get your thoughts right. He had thought about your situation much more than you thought he would. Though, come to think of it, the visits after you told him this, he’s always by the entrance of the visiting room just to give you a small nod of permittance. A nod you came to appreciate, and eventually miss when he stopped coming by. 

“Why did you stop by today?”

He looked at you this time, silent for a moment. The lift doors dinged open, and he gestured for you to enter before him. 

“Your father has been … irritable these past few days—”

“Oh, shit I am so sorry for him—”

“Hey, don’t apologize for your old man’s behavior. You’re the last person who should be apologizing.”

There it is again. That … look he has on you. The gaze he put on you weighed heavier than you could carry. Though, you couldn’t understand what about it made your knees melt. You nodded slowly. When you swallowed, your heartbeat reverberated in your ears. 

Even if he was tense, your demeanor would make things worse. You knew you were making a bigger deal out of this than you should have been; you hadn’t entirely dodged the topic of the duke of Meropide purely for family’s sake. The duke … was difficult. Though, not that he was causing you any sort of trouble. Evidently, it was quite the opposite.

“Anyway, I have my men observe him closely whenever you visit. Got the memo that he was already starting to blow a fuse a few minutes before he yelled at you.”

The lift arrived at the entrance floor and you exited rigidly, your mind unable to juggle basic motor control and the bewilderment of the situation.

He continued to walk you through to the exit of the fortress.

“Thank you, Your Grace. But I hate to have troubled you.”

“I’m the one who should be worried about troubling you,” he corrected. “Your father doesn’t come close to the worst convicts here. And yet, he’s one of the most difficult to manage. Prisoners who have committed the most heinous crimes are more amiable with me than your father has been, and he’s been here longer than some of said prisoners. Now, you visit him twice or even thrice a week, I don’t want him to cause trouble for you too. Especially with how often you visit? He should be—”

He clenched his jaw again, much more conscientiously this time, turning away for a second. 

“ … What?” You walked slightly in front of him as you tried to catch his expression. 

“No, that was … way out of line.”

You placed a hand on his shoulder—though, with how careful you were, it was really just your fingertips.

“Please, I want to hear it,” you said, almost in a mutter. “I know my dad is an asshole.”

The duke gave you a soft smile that seemed to muddle the edges of his pond blue irises. This was a gaze you were unfamiliar with, across all the kinds he’s given you, you knew, just from the shift in the air alone—this was somehow different.

“He’s lucky to have a daughter who visits him despite … well,” the duke chuffed ruefully. “Himself.”

You parted your lips to say something.

“But besides that—I got word he was talking about me again, and he gets worked up whenever I’m brought up so I rushed over. In any case, it’s late. Later than usual; I’m trying to see if I can get you home safe.”

With all the things he’d just said swimming in your mind, it was hard to think about rest or even getting home. It was a long travel, and having someone else worry—the Duke of Meropide, no less—was unbecoming.

He clenched his jaw again and for some reason, you hooked onto that to start. 

You held him back by the arm, stopping in the middle of a room. “Your Grace … listen, I just—I see that you’re tense and it’s embarrassing that I’ve made you worry about me to this degree. I can handle the commute home. Again, I’m sorry to be such a bother for the fortress and—”

“Please, you’re not … you’re not a bother.”

“Then … what am I?” 

“ … I’m sorry?”

“You had your guards update you on what goes on with my father when I visit. You’re always giving me extra time and now you’re helping me with transport. I mean, you even …”

He cocked a brow. Wriothesley’s shoe clicked loudly against the floor as he took a step closer.

“Go on.” He tilted his head ever so slightly, his hair falling over his face at an angle that seemed to accentuate his jaw. 

Shit.

This was all a mistake. Surely. 

But for some reason, mustering the words to apologize tied knots in your stomach.

“Maybe you were just being nice,” you murmured. He was so close now, and you had to crane your neck just to look at him, which didn’t last long at all. “I’m sorry Your Grace, I didn’t mean to—”

“No no, no need for that now,” he interjected in a tranquil tone. “I want to know what you mean.”

Your heart could crack your ribs open for how hard it shook against its bars. 

The Duke was difficult, absolutely—but not in the way he treated you. 

He was difficult because he seemed to display a certain kind of softness unexercised with anyone else. 

Something you now realized you clung onto for ammunition to your wild desires.

“No, I’m afraid I am the one who’s out of line this time, Your Grace. I was going to imply something completely absurd.”

“Are you put off by it?” 

You shook your head, almost like a knee jerk reaction.

“Definitely not. You’ve been nothing but kind towards me,” you insisted without hesitance.

“Okay. Then what’s on your mind?”

The silence of the fortress laid heavy on the floor, quickly rising up to your chest. The dust whispered of the gaps between your unspoken words. Both of you might have known just what hung in the air between you but without your explicit validation, external factors could easily be to blame for tension that spanned two or more months. You both were busy, working adults. And you both were mature, of course. Tension is and can realistically be caused by work stress. However …

With the way he had never once broken eye contact with you, always hanging by the cusp of your response, your approval … it gets to your skin.

“I could be imagining things …”

“You’re not,” Wriothesley chimed in. “I want to hear it.”

Your name left his lips like a breath of cold air in winter. Sentence after sentence, word after word—it was all but one start after the other. You tried to recall the last time he said your name, but you came up with one moment only; the day you first visited the fortress of Meropide.

“I can’t help but think you’ve taken a liking to me,” you confessed quickly. “Which, of course I am more than thankful for.”

“‘Taken a liking’ … that’s one way to phrase it,” the duke scratched the side of his neck with the opposite hand, angling his jaw away for better access. A small grin rose to his lips. “I would like to think I’d use more … direct vocabulary but I understand this is a delicate situation.”

You clutched onto the sides of your pants, wiping the sweat off your palms.

He noticed, however, his eyes following the movement of your hands then giving you a discerning look. 

His adam’s apple bobbed slowly before he spoke up. 

“If things were simple, I would have you tell me yourself what exactly it is that you want. But sadly, they’re not, and that’s mostly to do with me so I apologize,” Wriothesley began rigidly. “You were right about me being tense. But it’s not about … you.”

Silence drifted at the tail of his sentence as you waited for him to say more.

“Okay …”

“Well, actually … it is, but it’s not because of anything bad you’ve done. It’s …” 

When he struggled to choke up the words, he cleared his throat and tried again. 

“Can I be frank with you?” He asked with a lowered head. “The truth is rather indecent, but you deserve it regardless. Nothing has to change between us, you have my word.”

You nodded eagerly.

“Good.

 “You’ve been visiting very often within the last few months and every time I come down to see you I … don’t know how exactly to put this. I see moments when you’re trying to reason with your father who’s just—excuse my impertinence—beyond talking to, and the patience you have, the ability to be gentle in moments where he threatens you, to still care for him like that, it’s … it’s … too much for me. The reason I allowed you to stay here so late was because you’re the only outsider who came here and didn’t act like they owned the place. Besides the fact that you already know I allow you past visiting hours, this was another reason I stopped coming down to supervise. It was bad for me to think about you like that. I rarely come up to the surface as is, and even when I do, it’s usually still for matters regarding work. I know I don’t have any time for any relationships beyond friends and, well, I haven’t had much time to … let off steam either.”

Your heart was just about ready to splatter itself all over the walls of Meropide at this moment, rattling violently in your chest you could barely hold yourself up, even if you were only standing.

This was a fever dream, surely. 

You parted your lips again but he stopped you before you could speak.

“Please, I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t want to involve someone I barely know with my petty inconveniences. And I don’t mean to imply that I only ever think of you crudely, I just—”

“Stop. Don’t say anything else.”

“No I must insist—”

You caught his lips chastely, tiptoeing as you pulled him in by his tie. 

His hands wrapped around your waist almost as quickly as you had taken him, slightly pushing against you to roughen the kiss.

You nearly chased his lips when he pulled away eventually. His eyes were lost in the haze of what had just happened but he blinked a few times and refocused himself on you.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked, and the words left him lazily like they were dangling off of your kiss.

“Yes. I’m fucking tired—of life, of my dad, my family, my job, and I have thought about you a lot more than I’d like to admit. And I know we barely know each other, but fuck you’ve been so so fucking nice an-and you’re so fucking hot with your handcuffs, your tie, your vest, your everything. Oh, archons and the fucking—worrying about my commute home was my last straw. I can barely breathe around you. Please,” you confessed listlessly, your head spinning as you held him tighter. This caused him to tighten his grip around you, too.

Wriothesley grinned. “While I enjoy it, you don’t have to beg. Not for this.”

He drew the smallest circles on the small of your back, and there was something else he wanted to say. But judging from his averted gaze, it wasn’t easy. Though, to be fair—none of what was just exchanged was easy either. Your heartbeat still reverberated throughout your whole body, still wavering at the fact that you had literally just initiated a kiss with the Duke of Meropide.

“I need to warn you, I mean all of what I said. I can’t give you the relationship you deserve—any guy would be lucky to have you, but that comes with the responsibility of treating you right, and I can’t give you all of my undivided attention for where I am in life right now. But what I can do my best on is, well …” he cocked his head to the side. 

“Giving you the best fucking night of your life.”

That was all you needed to hear. 

“Where’s your office?”

“My office? Don’t you want to head home to …?”

“I need you so bad, Your Grace. I don’t know if I can wait until we get to my place.” You clung onto him like a lifeline, it was almost embarrassing—except, for every muscle flexed to have him closer, he reeled you in even more. 

Wriothesley huffed, giving you a small smile and that stupid gaze you couldn’t help but see every time you blink or close your eyes.

“You don’t know what you do to me when you say that.”

. . .

It took distraction, much distraction on the smallest of sounds, the faintest of smells just to keep your hands off of the duke as you both were back in the elevator, side by side. You would have laughed at the larger physical distance between you if you had seen this from third person, but the lift was charged with a silence that both of you felt was impenetrable and the sweat from your palms was being washed away by a cold breeze. 

It almost suffocated you to have waited this long—even if it had only been a minute or two. And you had already taken off your shoes by the time you arrived at the top of the stairs to his office. You thought you would tackle him then and there, but alas, the urge to be the civilized being you were taught to be reined just one point higher than your urge to take him all at once. After all, wouldn’t it be that much more enticing to see how exactly he wants to have you?

He caught you almost immediately by the lips, just as you had previously with him, this time his large hands almost cradling the back of your head as your hair fell between the gaps of his fingers. 

His other hand was busy taking your hips flush against his, and holy shit, there was a bulge larger than you anticipated pressing against you. You lost yourself in the warmth his kiss brought you anyway, fingertips feeling the smooth texture of his vest and the cold metal of his chain.

A tight grip on your waist caused you to yelp and suddenly, Wriothesley carried you by the ass and placed you down on the edge of his desk. His arms cornered you around him, and you continued to kiss him again—though this time, he lightly nipped at your bottom lip for permission which you gladly granted. 

Your arms floated then landed like petals on a pond upon his shoulders, hands like paper around his neck.

Much like him, his tongue was eager; while his hands crept up your shoulder blades only to begin its slow trek down, his tongue touched every surface you allowed in your mouth, brushing your tongue against his. 

Fuck, at this angle your legs were wide open and wrapped loosely around him while his tent pressed intimately against you. 

You hummed, trying to suppress the soft noise that burned from the depths of your lungs, fueled by months of illicit fantasies that dripped into your disposition towards him—and finally, it seems, his dam broke with the help of your nudging. 

It began to pulsate against him, but you didn’t think he could tell from how he seemed to need you tangled in his arms this instant, how each inhale he took was only luring him deeper into the promise he had made to you for tonight.

You angled your jaw away when he bit your neck and sucked and kissed the pillowy ache away. You whined as he had done so, lightly kicking the back of his leg with your heel.

“Oh, come now princess. Don’t tell me you’re impatient now when you’ve waited months for this,” he rasped against your neck, his hot breath sending chills down your arms. 

“I told you I need you. I need you so fucking bad, Your Grace.”

Wriothesley held you tightly in his arms as he grinded in one, slow stroke against the gap between your legs which made him groan, and you held back your own noise.

“Don’t tempt me, please don’t tempt me. I wanna treat you well, take you softly—but you’re making it impossible not to fuck you right now without restraint whatsoever,” he hissed between kisses down your jaw. 

“But …” you whimpered. You couldn’t muster the strength to finish your sentence as you had already melted in his firm arms long ago.

He’s right; he was undeniably pent up, hands arm chest and arms shaking and twitching every now and then with what seemed to be the urge to just have you as he mentioned. But even after all his kindness, all his patience—he still had more to give, unwilling to crumple you for his pleasure. 

“But?” 

He fiddled with the button of your pants with one hand, and just like that it was undone. 

The zipping sound cut through your thoughts and the breeze blew past your exposed skin. 

His eyes, heavy and brimming with intent concealed from you, locked with your own as he lowered himself painstakingly before you. His fingers barely brushed your skin when he peeled your clothes off your legs, sinking lower and lower. His actions hypnotized you on him, on the lines of his clothes, his curves—the way he looked up at you as the dim light of his office glistened by the edges of his shadows. 

All this time spent having to look up at him had caused this moment to flutter within both your lungs and mind. The many looks he’d given you, one after the other, each of different unnamable qualities that always left you unable to think of the decent thing to say. But this? 

He looked at you not only as if you were something to be worshiped; he gazed upon you as if he’d known you all his life, and now has rediscovered you, getting the opportunity to refine his memory of how the light traversed your features as he bathed in the grace of your eyes.

“You’re even more enchanting from down here.”

His wide-eyed stare seemed to have caught the tip of this tongue as he cleared his throat.

“You can call me Wriothesley,” he concluded with a rough exhale and a nod. “If you’d like.”

He sustained his gaze on you, waiting for a response. 

“Yes, I would like that very much,” you said. “Amongst calling you other things, too.”

“Yeah?” He smiled, and it was the kind of smile you could hear in someone’s tone; when they speak, you don’t have to look to know they have a smile that completes their tender expression. 

“Mhmm.”

“Like what?” He had you boxed in with his ropy arms rooted on either side of you. He blocked out the light from your view, bronze shadows rose like thin sheets on both of you. 

“Please me and maybe you’ll find out,” you chuckled and played with his tie between your fingers. 

He let out a weakened huff as he lowered his head. He looked up at you at that angle then shook his head. 

“To think I have learned of proper self restraint,” Wriothesley muttered. “This is self restraint. You test me in ways that have me failing before I even get to touch you.”

He pressed his middle finger between your clothed folds before you could quip back, causing you to gasp and cling onto him for support. He brought himself closer to you and snickered wryly. 

“Cute. Impressive, even. Now, what if I …”

His hand slipped into your underwear and his finger rubbed more intimately against your slit. It was almost completely submerged between your folds. 

You let out a hint of a moan, and with him hunched over you as you hugged him, you were right by his ear. Your mouth hung open but you still had control over the sounds rising in your throat, and you would let none of them pass over your tongue.

With his entire finger between your folds, his shoulder moved with each swipe that only grew vigorous by the second. 

“C’mon …” he said in a low voice. “You gotta give me something, princess. Now I know you like what I’m doing. You’re shaking so much I’m scared you’ll break.”

Something you haven’t even noticed—but it made you bunch his clothing in your fist. 

This time, he rubbed circles into that nub, his other fingers resting over your folds but pressing anxiously every now and then. You bit your lip, even squeaking once or twice at how he sparked your nerves alive between your legs.  

“No dice?” He asked again. He exhaled audibly through his nose. “Alright.”

He draped his arm around to the opposite shoulder, laying your back delicately on his desk. With your hair splayed out, a halo formed with the ring of light waxed around your head. 

His middle finger slipped into your cunt and you whimpered as a crease formed in your brow and you tightened around him—both your entrance and your arms.

“That’s it, atta girl,” he praised too sweetly for a rust-wrought voice. “Mm, you’re spilling for me. Why, I’m honored.”

“Sh-shut up,” you gritted out of embarrassment.

He littered kisses along your neck, deciding that lying like this with you was more warm than any stance with better access, because he kept his arm around you even when you assumed it to be cumbersome. 

“Do you really want me to?”

He curled his finger into that sopping, textured wall that made you cry out.

You shook your head.

“Use your words, princess.”

“Fuck—why-ngh!—why do you c-call me that?” You barely managed the sentence out.

“Let’s see,” he grunted, beginning to pump his finger in and out of you, the cold silver of his glove hitting you in time with the noises you made. “Staying far past Meropide’s visiting hours, monitoring your fathers’ behavior days before, during and after your visits which means all the time just to make sure he at least treats you with the bare minimum of respect any decent human being deserves, escorting you to and from the entrance every time you visit and supervising the visiting room but really only having my eyes on you—of course, I say this all to express my pleasure to serve you. Be reminded of just how gorgeous you are every time you walk down these halls.”

“Your Grace!” You squealed, feeling something coil in your stomach. 

He must’ve felt you squeeze around his finger because he chuckled.

“‘More’, you say? Gladly.”

His ring finger plunged into you, and it gave so easily with how much you gushed from your entrance. Your cry climbed higher in pitch as he curled both his fingers repeatedly, watching you squirm and squeeze beneath him. 

“You okay?” He asked, and he had asked the same way—if not a little breathier—than he had when he saw you in the visiting room that night. 

“Yes,” you exhaled. His face was only an inch or two away from yours. 

“Tell me if it hurts or if you want to stop, yeah?” 

You nodded.

“I’m just trying to warm you up to it. Believe me, I’d put it in right now if I knew it wouldn’t hurt you.”

You reached up to cup his cheeks. They’re softer than you imagined they’d ever be for the Duke of a renowned prison who barely goes outside.

“What are you … are you saying th—”

“Don’t worry about that now. I’ll take care of you.”

His pumping resumed in and out of you, his strokes spanning longer this time with his fingers almost completely exiting you this time around. You threw your head back, unable to bear looking him directly in the eye with how you were already being driven off a wet cliff to incoherence, and he hasn’t even fucked you yet.

With how much he seeked a full view of your complexion without directly asking, there was no way he didn’t know he was rubbing against that spongey wall with every languid yet firm stroke into you. 

“Oh, we can’t forget this, can we?”

He pressed his thumb on your clit, keeping a steady pace that matched the fingers thrusting in and out of you. 

Your legs jolted in a shock of a new layer of pleasure, both your cunt and nub retracting to the stimulation his fingers treated you to.

Your muscles staggered, a growing ache making them give out and drop dead.

With his fingers still stretching you out overtime, he lifted your leg by the back of your knee.

Feeling him do that, his clothes running past your chilled skin, his grip a silent plea to have you wrapped around him accompanied by a softer kiss by your ear—your stomach coiled and flexed without much control and your cunt throbbed.

“Rest your legs on my back for me,” he grunted, his fingers stretching the boundaries of your walls faster as that silver hitting your entrance would start to bruise. You did as you were told, crying out all the same and in messy succession. He kissed your temple. “Good girl.”

His fingers juddered in and out of you making you shake to its command.

“Y-Your Grace—gonna—please—”

“Sh, sh sh—you’ve been so good for me. You deserve this and so much more,” Wriothesley praised airily. “Come on. Let go.”

He had nearly rearranged your insides from his fingers alone, and upon his command, you came all over him, pouring and pouring—even as he was slowing down, you kept coming.

He kissed you again without warning, this time his tongue making sloppy brushes against your own. He tilted his head to have more of you, your arms weak yet slithering around his shoulders.

His fingers left you, and even then it seemed your cunt was still trying to push your juices out. 

When he pulled away, he licked up what was left of you on his fingers and wiped away the access that stained his gloves.

“Shit, I’m sorry about your gloves.”

He peeled the tip of the black dressing wrapped around his wrist area. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll just clean them when—”

“Don’t take them off.”

You placed a hand over your mouth the instant those words left you, eyes widened and breath hitched. Even he had snapped in your direction.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

He cocked a brow at you as he reworked the dressing on his gloves. 

“As you wish, princess.”

Fucking hell, you think you just came again just from the petname alone.

As he had just begun to walk around to the other side of his desk, you sat up swiftly with pain writhing all over—mainly on your stomach and thighs. 

“Are you sore?” He reeled back towards you.

“A little. Not like I wasn’t going to be,” you jested. The duke snickered with you. 

“Naturally,” he smiled, and again you could hear it as he exhaled sharply. Smiles like that were always the ones that thrum against the strings in your chest. 

“Okay, so … how do you want to do this?” 

“Hm?”

Wriothesley strolled around to his chair and sat. 

“You could sit on my lap, but I’m not sure how comfortable you’d be,” he suggested. “Or you could sit there too, but that can’t be comfortable either.”

You got off from his desk and walked around it to join him. You turned around so that your back faced him and you sat snugly.

“Your lap is plenty comfortable,” you concluded with your hands on your knees and your thighs pressed together.

Wriothesley chuckled lowly, and your breath hitched when his hands slithered to your waist and kept sliding steadily.

“I’m glad to hear it.” 

By this time, he had pulled you closer, thick forearms wrapped around your torso as your boobs sat on top. He had buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathy kisses left in a meticulous trail.

The longer this whole thing went on, this little … agreement between you and wriothesley—the less this seemed to be letting off steam and a little more of making up for years of disregarded passion. 

But you were far from complaining. In fact if you could have it your way … oh, you’d send the duke running out the door.

“I want you,” he murmured into your skin as if you could hear through it. “I want to see your face when you sit on it.”

Speak of the devil. 

“Oh?” You muttered. Your fingers fell between the gaps of his own, and his knuckles poked your palms. “You want to see me come undone on your cock, hm?”

“Yes, yes absolutely,” he breathed heavily against you and your shoulders tensed at the chills crossing your spine. “I want—no, need to ease you into it.”

“I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.”

“Uh huh. I’ve never doubted that,” he replied instantly. “But you’re not the only one.”

You grinded against him just as he said that, your ass pressing into his bulge and his lower stomach as he hunched over and groaned.

He bit into your shoulder then, and you moaned again before chuckling.

“Stand up,” he commanded for what you recalled to be the first time that night, and after all his service, who were you to deny him?

His belt had come undone and his fingers worked the zippers of his pants. You moved them away to handle it yourself. 

You teased him, though, the zipping sound buzzing through the air as you took your time over each metal tooth in the zipper. He didn’t say a word of it, even if he gripped the armrests so hard you could hear the friction. When his zipper was all the way down he shifted so you could peel his underwear back. 

Oh, fuck.

You couldn’t even estimate the length because you hadn’t quite processed the girth.

You immediately rose to your feet at the sight.

He looked up at you expectantly. Goddamn, his eyes were crystals in this light. Indecisive ones that didn’t know what to think, yet held hope, adoration and possibly something more in the large pool of light it nurses.

“Your Grace, it’s …”

He reached out for you again, and for a second there was absolutely no way the hands that fell on your waist were the very same ones that have spilled the blood of others. Not when he held you like his touch would scorch you.

“You can take it. I’ll help you.” 

He held the hem of your shirt but your hand grappled his wrist. 

“Can I … leave it on?” You asked gingerly. “I’ll remove my bra. You can touch them underneath. I just …”

“Of course.”

He let go of your shirt. You both gave each other looks you couldn’t recognize before you reached behind tk unclasp your bra.

“May I?” He spoke up after a few seconds of you fumbling with it.

You froze. 

You could just be seeing things that weren’t there, but in this moment, his gaze was … wistful, yet sanguine. A white glow poured into his irises that surely wasn’t from his office’s bad lighting.

You gave him a warm smile and lowered your head. “Sure.”

You turned around, and he prompted you to sit on his knee as his fingertip climbed your back and your bra fell to the floor within the next three seconds.

When you stood up again, his fingers brushed your inner thigh and lingered as if he wanted to draw something there, stirring up chills on your leg before two of his fingers disappeared into you again. 

You cried out as your hands clutched the edges of his chair for support. His other hand squeezed firm on your hip. 

He thrusted a few times before going, “tell me if this hurts.”

And he slipped a third finger into you. 

“Your Grace!” You cried. “Fuck.”

“Does it hurt? Should I pull out?”

“No, no.” You shook your head. “Please.”

“Please what?”

If you went on any longer like this, your legs would give out and drool would cover your chin.

“I want you.”

“You have me.” His grip squeezed tighter on your hip as his eyes narrowed on you.

“No, you.”

He caught how your eyes shifted to his erection. 

He looked back at you and nodded. When he pulled his fingers out, you would have fallen on your knees had his hands not been there to support you.

You quickly cross one leg to his other side and luckily, his chair was spacious enough for your calves to rest on either side of his thighs. You on him with his erection on your stomach. 

Seeing its length against your body …

Both of you stared at it for a second, measurements filling your heads as your thoughts ran free about how exactly this was going to go. How noisy you’d be. How noisy he’d be. 

His silken tip was a pulsing red, blending into his pale skin color as a few veins branched up from the base

“You’re … fuck …” you whispered. 

“Is everything alright?” He asked as if you both weren’t looking at the same thing between you two.

“Yeah. It’s just—intimidating, is all.” Your playful tone fell flat with the heated air you both exhaled moments ago. “But fuck, I’ll never forgive myself if you don’t make a fucking mess of me.”

“Good, because I really don’t know how much more I can take,” he added fervently. His hands wandered over your hips and dipped into your waist, careful not to squeeze in any capacity. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

That was all the encouragement you needed as you shifted closer on your knees. He held you tightly on the hips which each move you made, one hand moving to align him to your entrance. 

“Don’t rush, okay? I’ll do my best not to move until you tell me to.”

You grinned. “Stop being so nice. It just makes me wanna swallow you whole.”

You lowered yourself on him and both of you moaned out, his sounding almost like a growl. The pain clawed at the walls as you were being pried in two.

“Fuck,” he cursed sharply. If he had longer nails, they would have maimed you by now. 

And that was just the tip.

“Think you can swallow me whole still?” He quipped with his hands still holding your hips up. 

“I’m tougher than you think,” you couldn’t help but remark as you sank deeper in—his entire body steeled and another strained groan escaped him. 

The pain took its place in the backseat in this moment, his delectable reactions causing the butterflies in your stomach to jolt awake. That was something you hadn’t felt in a while; it would steer you to a higher state of mind you couldn’t recall ever being in.

It only took a few more minutes before you had indeed swallowed him whole, his tip pressing against your cervix as you shifted to get comfortable.

His hands slithered around your waist once more only to tighten against him, your torso flush against his as his eyes wandered you. Even if you still had top on, it seemed as though he was getting lost in the folds of the fabric, frequently coming back to the swell of your breasts.

“Hey.” You placed a hand on one of his bulky arms tightly slung around you.

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?” You tilted your head. 

There was something in the way he was holding you, a warmth that rose like steam that caressed your skin—but you weren’t sure this was that kind of scene. You wanted to say it felt out of place but somehow you only felt yourself dripping wetter at the thought of it. 

He swallowed. “Yeah. I’m more than okay, I mean—fuck just—can’t believe my dick is in you right now. You feel so good. This feels good. I can’t even begin to explain how many times this very scene has played in my head in the most inconvenient times.”

He laughed softly, and you laughed with him. 

“How many times I dreamed of fucking you like this. Having you all to myself. Thinking I’d make sure I am the best you’ll ever have.”

He pressed his nose into your clothes as it reached your sternum, his face sitting comfortably between your breasts.

“You smell like … black tea.” His comment was muffled as his eyes were closed.

“Well yeah, that’s because you always give me some when the visiting rooms get busy or if it’s raining outside,” you replied with a lighter chuckle, running your fingers through his hair. How can something be so rough and soft at the same time?

What, exactly, you were referring to when that thought flitted right by you—you didn’t care to reaccess. 

“Wriothesley?”

“Hm?”

“Please fuck me,” you said, lace and pink bow ties intertwined in your words.

“You’re ready?”

“Mhmm.”

His arms unraveled from you, and it seemed like his grip had worked knots on its own; ages passed before his hands rejoined either side of your waist. He was reluctant to part from you, even in the slightest degree as he was no longer pressed into you. 

“Be good for me, yeah?”

And with that, he lifted you up and down on him with ease. He started out at a reasonable pace, though it was one faster than you expected. Your moans spun the room once more, each at their highest when his tip hits your cervix. Pain slipped out and away with each sodden thrust in you.

One hand covered your mouth and the other rested on his shoulder—and even as he rubbed hot, liquid pleasure into you, you caught the precise moment he realized what you’d done.

“Agh—please princess. Haven’t I earned this? What else will it take for me to hear your precious voice, hm?” He hummed, pleasured groans weaving through his strained words. 

“That—mm fuck!—damned nickname again,” you cursed under your breath, causing the duke to smile. 

He slowed his pace to a near stop. “What can I say?” 

Then he pounded so hard into you, the wet slap along with your scream echoing in the safe confines office.

“You make me want to pamper you.”

He clenched his jaw as he continued to fuck you at the same pace, though this time each thrust left a sting on your ass. 

You felt as though your nerves swam and writhed in each layer of flesh beneath your skin, pleasure following the way sound follows shortly after light. The butterflies panicked in your stomach, almost tickling you with the shrouded embarrassment of the duke of Meropide seeing you this way—how you could barely keep your lips together as your jaw lost its zeal a long time ago.

“Mmm c’mon,” he encouraged as your name left his lips again as an exhalation of sampled affection. “If I don’t get to hear you, I’m going to do something I’m not sure you’ll like.”

His thrusts picked up its pace slightly, as if to try and get the noises bubbling in throat to spill. You stayed resilient, however, even shaking your head as you offered a choked whimper instead.

“Alright then.”

His grip on your hand was gentle as he moved it to his shoulder, his fingers brushing your arm as he stopped moving altogether.

You whined irritably, and of course the duke laughed it off with that low and sadly attractive voice of his. Your gut dropped at the very sound of it.

“I told you I’d do something you wouldn’t like,” he reminded, and he sounded perfectly fine, as if he didn’t have his cock buried deep in you and twitching from the lack of friction. His hand was warm and soothing over your own, the other sliding up your waist. 

“Ride me.”

“What?”

“Please, ride me,” he repeated. 

You didn’t follow his request immediately as you knew what it would entail; your entire face, fucked out and reacting to every thrust you made down on him. You couldn’t muster a reply so instead you buried your face in his neck, pressing shallow kisses on his scars.

He laughed again. “Come now, princess. I asked nicely, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t the first time,” you pouted without meaning to.

It was almost like a knee-jerk reaction when his fingers ran through your hair, kissing your head as he cooed. It felt as though his fingers left a trail of butterflies where it combed, and the nectar of his kiss seeped straight to your mind. 

“I’m sorry. I know I didn’t. But I needed to see your face,” he said. His fingers still laid in the strands of your hair. “How shall I make up for it?”

“Beg.”

And so he nodded. 

“Please,” he stressed, your name placed on the throne of his saccharine plea. “Please, ride me. I need you so, so bad—I promise I won’t be mean again. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

You heard him loud and clear the first time, but part of you needed to hear him say it again. A confirmation of what it would mean if he asked this of you—what exactly it is he wanted.

And so you lifted your hips off him slowly, and even in that little bit of movement pleasure ran down his every inch where your cunt hugged. He made soft noises, ones you would keep like small souvenirs in a jar as he shut his eyes for a moment.

Then you dropped down on him, moans shared between the both of you as yours reigned louder.

"I love hearing you moan, fuck," he cursed.

You repeated what you'd done, this time getting faster as the feeling of him filling you grew as addicting as it was pleasurable. Seeing him restrain his sounds and bite his lip was more than a reward for doing as he asked. You wanted him all the way in, even if it bruised your cervix—and his chivalry had only impassioned the carnal thoughts spinning in your mind, chained to the wall as you couldn't have done anything about it without seeming downright sick. 

That is, until now.

Oh, to think he'd been pent up before this, and now you're the only one who can bring him brain-hazing pleasure in this moment. Your fingers clawed at his clothes, legs cramping but the hot pleasure burned brighter in you than anything else. 

"I want to fuck you," he moaned. "I want to see you, hear you, make you feel good—please let me fuck you over the table—ngh—please.”

"How bad?" You panted as you refused to stop.

"What?" He perked up.

"How bad do you want me?"

He wasted no time in wrapping himself around you again, sweat on sweat as he laid you back on his desk, careful not to let your head fall. 

"I hope this answers your question," he whispered in your ear before he backed away to gaze at you again. He had naturally pulled out a little from the movement, but he didn't mind—he wrapped your lips in a heated kiss once more, his tongue a little more gentle this time as he pushes in and you gasped in his mouth. 

More wet slaps ensued as his thrusts grew needy. He drew out slowly only to jerk back in and nearly choke your body in bursts of pleasure, your nerves tingling again as those coils reformed in your gut. They were going to give out. It was approaching sloppily and even your mouth went limp when you tried to pull away. 

You tapped his jaw, and he pulled away instead, with the fog in his half-lidded eyes you could hardly say it was any easier for him than it was for you.

"I'm c-close.”

"Me too," he panted as he straightened his back, hands finding purchase back on your waist. “You’re so pretty like this.” 

Your tailbone had already begun to ache, remnants of your body ache plaguing the rest of you.

His finger wounded up back beneath your folds, and dancing with your clit as you screamed again. Shit, it was approaching before you could catch up to it. Your hands flew to his wrist out of instinct and your knuckles turned white in an instant, but your grip was wind to him.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you erupted, quickly falling off that cliff as you clenched around him and caused him to moan. 

“Fuck! I’m coming!”

He pounded quicker into you, your waist bruised in his grip as your ass stinged a bright red—he pulled out just in time for his cum to spill on the desk and floors. 

Your body went limp. Your clit still pulsed, and both you and the duke panted for a few moments. 

It took a while before the daze of the orgasm cleared, and some of your thoughts had come back coherent to you again.

The first one that took you by the throat was that you had just had sex with the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide, the warden of a highly-regarded prison, a man known to be intimidating and a force you should never cross. 

“Hey, hey hey—you okay?” 

Wriothesley rushed to your side when you sat up and winced. His hold on your arm would have hurt if it wasn’t out of concern and the failed attempt to support you on time.

“Yeah, just cramping. I’ll be fine.” You dropped onto the floor, whipping around to find your pants. He didn’t let go of your forearm nor let his eyes leave your face—you didn’t fight it.

“I was thinking of offering to let you rest, but I realize you start work early tomorrow,” he said as he cleaned himself off, then fixed the belt and fasteners on his pants. “I’ll send you home.”

You turned back to him. “What?”

“I’ll see if I can get us private transport so it’s quicker.”

Your other hand fell over his arm. “I don’t want to trouble you.”

“I was the one who brought you back here, so I’ll get you back safely.”

“And if I invited you over?” You raised a brow at him.

He paused for a few seconds as shock reached his gaze. His eyes examined each of your own as if to wonder just how serious you were. 

“I’d go back to the Fortress on my own.” Wriothesley cleared his throat when he handed you your pants. 

“That’s hardly fair,” you scoffed as you rested your sore ass against his desk to put on your clothes. 

“I have never said this about ‘fair’ before, but I think I’m okay with that,” he grinned. You frowned.

“Wriothesley.”

He said your name back to you in a laugh.

“You don’t have to do … all this for me. You’re a very busy man.”

“Indeed, so I’d better hurry and make sure you get home safe and quick.” He tucked some of your hair behind your ear, and for a moment his eyes seemed to draw your features, the way light met your eyes or how your lips crumpled in a certain way when you were in thought or observing something intently.

Just like you had been now, with him. 

You gave up at his persistence, simply shaking your head and then gathering your things before leaving his office with him. 

The fact of the matter is that despite the coils that had broken loose in your gut just a while ago, your pores rippled with goosebumps at the brush of his fingertips down your shoulder when he followed so close behind you. He closed the door behind him and his touch had fled just as soon as it had arrived. 

“Did you mean what you said?” He started, “when you said you’d … invite me over.”

“Mmm, why do you ask?” You teased.

“Because if your word is true we’d stop when the Fortress of Meropide meets the surface.”

note. don’t ask me why I have a backstory for reader and more ideas for this fic oml. Idk why I am rotting sm over this. Tysm for reading!

taglist: @mun-in-rain @neverlandlostchild @mmmairon

[heegyukeluv]

the devil wears prada (sjy)

pairing: idol!jake x afab!reader

synopsis: As Sim Jaeyun stepped out of Prada’s after party, everyone ignored his goodbyes to the sea of paparazzis, because the buzz was about the lucky person who got to disheveled his hair. Jake’s honest answer for that was: the devil. And she for sure wears Prada.

my's note: i love how everyone saw Jake’s after-party photos and thought the same thing (i'm everyone). disheveled hair jake after-party prada that’s all. and i just realized i don’t know how to write a quickie lol enjoy <3 (please take into consideration this is a work of fiction, this doesn't represents the artist's image)

warnings: SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, protected sex, oral (f. receiving), cum eating, quickie but not really, public (?) bathroom sex, mirror sex, reader is quite dom with jake (i can't help myself), mention of alcohol. lmk if i missed something!

wc: 5.4k

NOT PROOFREAD.

taglist 💖: @yvnempire

The air was thick with the scent of luxury – champagne and expensive perfumes mingling with the buzz of the conversations in every corner of the room.

You had your back leaning against the marble counter of the bar, fingers nonchalantly tracing the edge of your vibrant drink and eyes drifting through the sea of people. Everyone was dressed to impress, each guest showcasing their creativity through Prada’s clothes, accessories and shoes.

Working in the fashion industry came with perks, and being invited to exclusive after-parties was undoubtedly the best one. So you weren’t a stranger to this world. The glamourist atmosphere, the music playing as a soft background, the dim lights casting a perfect blend of elegance and casualness over the place.

It made your body shiver with joy, fulfillment at its most filling your chest, as the surroundings seemed to confirm what you already knew: you were in the right place – your place.

Earlier, at the main event, you watched the showcase with sparkling eyes, recording specific moments to use later as inspiration for your own creativity process. You loved how free you could be with your ideas while doing your work, not to mention the possibility of adding tons of yourself to it. Some might call it an egoistic behavior, as if your job existed solely for your own satisfaction. But the creation was yours, so why shouldn’t the outcome be about you too?

You took another sip of your drink, your sharp gaze scanning the room.

As soon as you stepped at the after-party, many other designers and some artists approached to compliment both your visual and your work, and you confidently talked with them. Yet, coming not from one, but from a few of them, there was an underlying tone; their praises were not solely aimed at your outfit or your impeccable creations, but rather an attempt to carve a path to your heart – or, perhaps, under your dress.

You never denied you had a good appearance. Together with your sense of style and your fearless demeanor, you enchanted anyone who crossed your way. The badass woman aura you exhaled was almost palpable and extremely hot for those who watched – with heart and lustful eyes – as you passed by.

Despite the usual lingering intense gazes on you, far from feeling intimidated or even shy by them, there was one pair of eyes burning deeper, piquing your curiosity as you kept on searching for its owner. 

It was like you every motion was being captured by them, following you across the room, and no matter how many conversations you effortlessly maneuvered through, all you could feel was the constant, intense weight of the said gaze.

After one more drink and some uninterested noddings at the guy who took place near you at the bar, you finally found him.

Sitting on the middle sofas of the main room, drink in hand, together with his group, devil eyes staring at you shamelessly, biting his lip and looking extremely hot as doing so.

You quirked an eyebrow in his direction, not even bothering to follow the bla-bla-bla coming from the random guy anymore, his words sounding like nothing to you at that point.

Especially because the attractive man looking at you didn’t even flinch after getting caught, as if it was the purpose from the beginning. If anything, he deepened eye contact in a daring, cocky manner, almost challenging you to react over the tension that started to hang in the air between you two.

Unlucky to him, you weren’t the type to follow anyone’s lead but yours, so you simply let out a soft scoff, a smirk tugging at your lips as you deliberately took another sip of your drink without breaking the new unspoken game – the one you were sure you would win.

You observed closely how he drifted his gaze away from yours just to blatantly check you out, stopping on your bare thighs for a moment before doing the same on your exposed chest, the neckline of your dress giving the perfect bait for men like him.

He shifted on his seat, gulping and then assaulting his lower lip with his teeth once more, as if trying to contain himself from running all the way to you, just to undress you properly instead of keep on doing that with his glare. 

You would be lying if you said that his demeanor wasn’t helping to ignite the fire from your core to your entire body, skin heating with a hint of desire. Even so, you waited patiently.

The random designer talking to you was long gone already, though you barely noticed, unnecessarily engrossed in your little game.

With a subtle, innocent tilt of your chin, you motioned your head slowly as a signal, beckoning him to come closer, without breaking eye contact. The simple gesture caught him off guard; his confident atmosphere stumbling to keep itself up, eyes growing wide in surprise, and you found it irresistibly adorable.

The corner of your lips curled when he stood up after whispering something to one of his friends, who quickly glanced at you and then showed a small smile. You finished your drink as he made his way over, his steps relaxed, but his eyes avoiding yours. You almost chuckled at the endearing scene.

As he approached, you noticed how young he seemed to be, perhaps even younger than you. Not to mention his incredible inebriating fragrance and self beauty – the plump pink lips and the high bridge nose perfectly sculpted doing things to you.

“Hey,” he greeted, eyes straightaway dropping to your exposed neckline, lingering on the curve of your chest.

You leaned in just slightly, making sure he got a better view, batting your lashes with a sly smile. “Hey.”

Without asking for your preference, he ordered two drinks. You decided to let it slide for now – being surprised could be fun every now and then, and maybe accepting his drinks could be one of the keys to get something more.

“You’ve been turning heads all night.” He finally said after a while, the hot, aussie accent didn’t go unnoticed by you. Your body heat increased as an immediate response. 

As you tilted your head slightly, letting a small smile play on your lips, you smoothly replied with faux innocence. “Have I?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, thanking the bartender for the drink as he handed you one, oblivious of the rhetorical question. Your smile widened. “Can I know your name?”

“Y/N,” you politically extended your hand, eyes sharp on his face. His grip was hesitant, and the moment your fingers touched, an unexpected jolt of electricity shot through your body. You suppressed a slight shiver.

“Jake,” he introduced himself, caring little to nothing about showing how affected he got just by feeling your soft palm on his.

His breath hitched, getting caught on his throat as his eyes darkened. He couldn’t help but think about how your touch would feel elsewhere on his body.

The excitement flooded your chest instantly, you had to hold back yourself because you realized that if you wanted – and you so did – those perfect lips would be attached to yours in no time, and if you were lucky enough, they would be exploring other parts of your body as well.

“Nice meeting you, Jake.” You murmured, pronouncing his name with your most velvety voice, slowly pulling your hand away to grab your drink from the counter, sipping it.

Jake tracked your deliberate movements, wetting his slightly parted lips when he saw your red lipstick staining on the glass edge, utterly in disbelief he simply discovered someone who definitely came out from his wettest dreams, who would turn the smallest, innocent gesture into something sensual.

Even the simple act of blinking in his direction seemed meticulously calculated to make it hard to resist your advances, fueling the growing tightness inside his pants.

Not to mention how sexy his name rolled out of your beautifully tinted lips. 

Jake leaned his arms on the marble counter, turning his head to keep on watching you, as if your presence were an alluring, tempting show, happening right in front of his eyes just to damage his weak heart.

“I couldn’t stop looking at you.” He blurted out shamelessly, shattering the ‘cool’ facade he was trying to maintain under your intense gaze.

There was something about how sincere, seductive, and yet, desperate he sounded, as if his greatest longing in life was to have you right away. You were enjoying that guy so much so far. 

“I’ve noticed,” you chuckled with your eyes brimming with flirtation, shifting between his plush, kissable lips and his desire-filled orbs. “And are you planning to keep just looking?”

Jake blinked, momentarily taken aback with your quick and direct response. Although you had an obvious confident aura radiating through your pores, he definitely didn't expect you to be so straight to the point, thinking he would have to ease things a bit more.

And honestly? He found your vibe more exciting than he would like to admit. 

“I guess that depends on what you want,” he answered, voice dropping a tone, trying to match the energy you exuded.

Ignoring the chills running through your spine by his low murmur, you softly chuckled and leaned back against the bar, gaze still locked with his.

“Oh, Jake,” you teasingly cooed, grinning, with your voice dripping with amusement, “I always get what I want.”

It was visibly apparent how your words ignited something on his body, perking up in anticipation while his eyes deepened and his jaw clenched; if you looked close enough, you would see the slight bulge in his crotch area. 

Jake straightened his posture, finishing his drink in one go without breaking eye contact, hooded eyelids offering you the most magnetic sight you saw that night until that moment.

Then he leaned in closer, the tension between you two increasing with every heartbeat. “Meet me in the bathroom,” he whispered in your ear, a cocky smirk creeping onto his face.

As he walked towards the restroom area, his confident stride only added to the thrill. Men would be promising you the best night of your life just to leave you hanging and dealing with your situation alone. However, Jake seemed to exude an air of boldness blended perfectly with devotion, making a rush of anticipation bubbling in your core.

You let out a small laugh, not even caring about finishing your drink. The thrilling game had just started and you were so ready to play.

Jake’s lips tasted like heaven. And fancy liquor.

His hands were everywhere, but mainly on your ass and neck, his desperation evident by the way he pressed your back into the cold wall, sucking your lips as if his life depended on it.  

After following his traces, feigning indifference as best as you could to the open public, it took mere seconds before you felt his strong grasp on your hips guiding you into the bathroom – fortunately, they had private, separated spaces, making it easier for the two of you to steal as much privacy as the party allowed.

You could hear the muffled hum of the songs playing as a background, merging with the lewd sounds from the messy, hungry kiss you both shared and the soft groans rumbling from Jake’s throat as well.

Just minutes ago your plans were completely different; just some kisses and calling it a night, definitely not imagining things going further than that. However, the way Jake’s mouth skilfully moved against yours made you wonder how good it would feel in other places of your body, like in between your legs, and you just had to give it a chance.

“You taste so good,” he murmured, barely breaking the contact, lips already swollen and reddened due to your lipstick and your not so gentle bites. 

You hummed in response, unable to form proper words about how amazing of a job he was doing just by kissing you. 

Your fingers tangled in his silky brown hair, tugging without restraint because you quickly realized how much Jake liked it. He moaned, lips parting against yours with the intensity of the pull, your hazed gaze catching a quick glimpse of his eyes rolling back – an extremely devilish view.

Although stumbling a bit, Jake managed to easily place you at the edge of the sink’s counter by lifting you firmly gripping your thighs, the feeling alone making you wince as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist for support.

The room seemed to shrink as your breaths quickened, the boiling sensation bubbling in your stomach as you anticipated for more of his intense, heated, passionate touches. 

Jake, just as breathless, decided to assault the flesh of your neck and exposed collarbone, getting drunk on your scent and softness as he did so, loving how you tilted your head just enough to give him some more access to explore.

A soft moan escaped your lips and your fingers tightened on his hair when he nibbled your sensitive spot, close to your earlobe, sending jolts of electricity directly to your pussy.

You could feel a smirk creeping into his mouth, right before he questioned teasingly, slowly sucking the area. “Do you like that?”

You fought to keep your composure, a soft smile threatening to break through as the heat blossomed in your core. His breath tickled your skin, deliberately waiting for your answer while igniting every inch of you by keeping on playing on that spot. 

The first reaction you gave was another moan together with your nails digging on his shoulders and scratching his scalp. Then you admitted, still struggling to hold yourself back. “Fuck, yes. I do.” 

Jake cooed at you, gently pulling away from the curve of your neck to study your dazed expression; lips agape releasing heavy breaths, cheeks flushed with a delicate pink and eyes half-lidded, fluttering slowly, still dripping in the same confidence you once carried, as if even under his lead you were the one commanding.

“You look hot and messy, and I haven’t even started yet.” Jake teased, a playful smile gracing his lips as he pressed them against yours again.

“Do you always talk that much?” You murmured, not quite intending to judge his demeanor, but a bit annoyed and amused by how he appeared to need to hear you frequently while savoring you. 

“Only when I'm nervous.” Jake answered honestly with an awkward chuckle, helping you to remove his jacket, which landed straight on the ground and he couldn’t care less.  

“Oh, do I make you nervous Jakey?” You smirked, thirsting over his now exposed veiny arms. 

Watching Jake’s cheeks being painted with a faint blush while he swallowed hard under your sharp gaze, clearly getting flustered, brought back the control you thought was lost. 

“Maybe a little,” Jake tried to play it cool, but his voice came out smaller than he expected, and he tried to avoid facing you by leaning to kiss you again.

A glint of mischief sparkled in your eyes when you noticed he was losing his composure. You kindly held his head still, forcing him to keep his gaze on you. “Aw, come on, Jakey. Don’t shy away now,” you said, a smooth voice layered with playfulness and a sultry, almost mocking undertone. “You haven’t even started yet, isn’t that right?” 

Jake nearly moaned when he heard your words, not because of them itself but by how hot you sounded. His cock throbbed painfully inside his pants, his underwear probably stained with his leaking precum at that point. 

Jake got fooled at some moment by thinking he was the one in charge, even provoking you while exploring your desires initially, but the reality was that he had been following your lead like a lost puppy all along. 

There was something about how confident and dominant you seemed to be since the beginning, not faltering a single moment to his boldness, and somehow you carried that still, assuming the control gracefully, as if it was your job. And Jake was very grateful for you doing so.

His eyes softened and his breath hitched. 

“Tell me, what do you want from me?” The question slipped from his plush, beautiful lips, laced with desire and a touch of vulnerability without much cohesive thinking, clouded mind craving to satisfy you, because that meant his own fulfillment. “I wanna give you everything.”

Devoting to a devilish goddess like you was a tempting surrender he was eager to embrace.

You felt a pulse straight in your clit and your cheeks heating, the weight of his desperate words triggering your following behavior.

Jake saw the way your face brightened up, realizing he had opened the hell’s gate and he was eager to enter – if you were the personification of the devil, he was more than willing to drown into your lustful, tempting sea of sins. 

“What do I want from you?” You echoed, an amused grin curling the corner of your lips as your eyes traced Jake’s attractive features, pausing on his perfectly sculpted high-bridged nose, accompanied just below by his tasteful lips. You smiled, caressing it with your thumb. “I want them. Eat me out.” 

Jake’s breath got caught on his throat and his eyes grew in a slight surprise, not only due to your bold, straightforward request, but mainly because the idea of having your pussy in full display for him to play sounded too dreamy.

“Are you sure?” He asked in a low, contained voice, struggling to keep down his excitement, biting his lower lip, aiming to confirm he wasn’t going insane.

“I know what I want, Jake.” You cocked your head with a raised eyebrow. “And you?”

Jake’s eyes immediately dropped to your chest and then your bare thighs. The dress had ridden up due to the position so he was able to see a hint of your laced, black panties. He wet his lips, mouth watering while he lowered enough to bend comfortably and be eye level with your cunt.

You watched, fascinated by how in trance he seemed to be, as though your final word was the cue for him to dive into you completely. 

Your stomach fluttered in anticipation as you propped yourself up to help Jake slide your panties down your legs, gentle hands caressing your smooth skin as he did so. Then he grabbed your ass and pulled you forward, shooting you a quick glance and smile before burying his face between your legs, the smell of your pussy intoxicating his senses. 

He first gave it a small, slow kitty-lick, testing the waters, then frowned in pleasure, groaning with your delicious taste dissolving on his tongue.

A soft gasp slipped from your lips and you quickly pursed them to stifle the sounds threatening to escape, fighting the urge of allowing yourself to let go so easily. One of your hands searched for support on the edge of the counter and the other held on tight to Jake’s hair.

Jake gave a long, savoring lick, finishing with a delectable, lewd sucking noise in your clit, as if he was starting to make out with your pussy. Your mouth fell open and your eyes fluttered shut, your limbs feeling like jelly as a wave of weakness coursed through you.

His hot muscle started to work faster, steadier and precise in between your folds, your entrance and your sensitive bundle of nerves, giving each of them the right amount of attention.

“Holy shit, Jake,” you moaned shakily, unable to keep it low. “You’re so fucking good at this,” you threw your head back, unconsciously waving your body towards his face, practically griding on it.

Jake moaned with your praise, skilfully shaking his head whenever he flickered his tongue in your hole, just to rub your clit with his nose, before moving back to suck on it, entirely immersed on his duty to please you.

He was on cloud nine. 

Your taste flooding his senses, your body reacting to his stimulus, heating up and shivering under his precise touch, your pretty moans filling up the space straight into his ears, like angels singing – though he was sure you were a devil in disguise. 

Every noise coming from your throat was sending a rush of electricity directly into his dick, not to mention how your cunt became wetter and wetter with the lewd mixture of his own saliva and your arousal. Jake could die that moment and would be happy with it.

Reading the way your breathing grew heavy and feeling how you clenched around the tip of his tongue, Jake deduced you were near to the edge.

“I’m close–” You whispered, confirming his theory.

The knot on your stomach tightened when Jake began to focus mainly on your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue on it, eager for your release – perhaps more than you. “I’m really close, Jak–”

Your arms nearly failed to keep yourself up as your orgasm hit, a long moan falling from your mouth interrupting your warning, your spine arching with the euphoria wave and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your juices coated Jake’s tongue, who took all of it proudly; you hissed feeling his mouth still working on your sensitive cunt, and you pulled him away by his hair.

Without a word Jake brought his lips to yours, making you taste yourself still hazy minded after your strucking climax. You groaned, slowly starting to move your hips to get down from the counter, Jake unconsciously helping you through it by supporting your weight until your heels landed on the floor. 

You lightly pushed Jake’s chest to move him away, meeting his dazed expression, one that had nothing to do with the alcohol in his veins. You grabbed the hem of his black shirt, quietly asking for him to remove it. And he did without hesitation.

"Fuck me," you demanded, taking a glimpse of his beautiful toned abs, a bit out of breath and even needier now. "Fuck me and watch you doing it through this mirror."

Jake flashed a quick grin, still recovering from the smothering and delightful feeling of being in between your legs, before fumbling with his belt, hands frantic undoing the button of his pants to slide them down.

You took your sweet time to thirst over the outline of his covered, extremely hard length, interrupting his actions by gripping his wrist, savoring the moment as you licked your lips, mouth watering.

“It’s a shame we cannot take much longer,” you started, fauxing innocence as you stepped closer just enough to touch him over his white boxers. A small, provocative chuckle coming from your throat before you murmured. “Really wanted to feel you in my mouth.” And then you kissed the corner of his parted lips.

Jake whimpered when you softly squeezed his neglected dick, leaning closer to you instinctively, holding onto the edge of the counter behind you while resting his sweaty forehead on your shoulder. His breath was heavy against your skin, where he pressed his lips a few times until reaching your earlobe, nibbling. 

Your sneaky hands entered the hem of his clothing piece to jerk him off; your teasing, deliberate moves were driving him insane. The way your warm palm rubbed his sensitive tip made his groans increase just as much as his pulse, and he moaned a bit louder when you finally freed his aching dick out of his boxers by pushing them down, allowing your hand to pump his shaft easier. 

With closed eyes, you enjoyed the waves of pleasure going down, directly to your cunt, making you wet again by hearing Jake’s sultry noises and hot breath brushing against your ear.

Your lips grazed along his jawline at the same time you threatened your fingers through his slightly dampened hair, disheveling it even more before pulling it away from the curve of your neck, so you could capture his mouth in a slow, passionate kiss.

"Condom?" You asked under breath after parting away from his mouth, slowing your hand on his dick. You noticed his body tensing right after your question, eyes growing wide in panic, which piqued your curiosity.

There’s no way he…

"Shit, I didn't bring–"

You let out a soft scoff, part laughter, part disbelief. Without missing a beat, your hands resumed their movement, this time teasing him by randomly stopping, repeating the motion a few times. His moans grew louder, hips bucking desperately against your hand as if seeking more, his mouth agape and eyes glistening with despair.

"What a naughty boy," you cooed, slowly shaking your head in a false disappointment. "Were you planning on going raw with me, Jakey?" You questioned, voice low, layered with playfulness. 

Jake winced, desperation growing inside his chest, fearing you to leave him now, when he needed you the most.

"N-No..." He shook his head, “I wasn’t– I forgot, I’m sorr–” 

"Unluckily we just met.” You interrupted. “I don't know you well enough to let you do that. Right?" 

Jake nodded, though he wasn't sure if he was truly following your words. You were loving to see him falling apart so easily, almost begging for you not to leave him through his messy moans. 

His breath hitched and he almost grabbed your hand in place when you let go from his hard, red and needy cock. "P–please…" He finally pleaded, holding your waist as his eyes searched for yours in complete despair.

You quirked an eyebrow, smirking at his endearing demeanor. "Aw, you really wanna fuck me, don't you?" You caressed his cheek with your clean hand, smiling.

“I really do,” Jake whispered, moving his head just enough to kiss your palm. “Please, let me–”

“Not without protection, Jakey,” you said firmly, although with a hint of teasing, because you had a way out of that situation without harming your health.

And the said solution was inside your purse, which got tossed on the ground at some point of your initial make out session with Jake. 

Jake's puppy sad eyes followed your every motion when you moved his hands off of your waist, thinking he had messed up completely. But then he saw you grabbing your bag and taking a condom off of it, showing to him with a playful grin.

"And lucky to us, I'm always prepared, Jakey.”

You slowly approached him again, his gaze catching the alluring sight of you gently opening the packaging using your teeth, while your eyes confidently remained locked onto his, loving to see his bewildered expression.

Without a word, you slid the condom on his length, stroking it a few times before turning your back to him, bending over the counter and lifting your dress, revealing the beautiful view of your bare ass.

Jake’s firm hands instinctively gripped your hips and he positioned himself behind you while biting his lip in anticipation, the thrilling excitement boiling stronger in his cock.

He searched for your eyes in the mirror in front of you two, and of course you were already looking at him through your hungry orbs, savoring the image of Jake’s craving your body.

"Now fuck me as desperate as you seem to be."

Your words hung in the air for seconds before Jake’s mind snapped away from your tempting view in the mirror; your boobs nearly jumping out of your neckline, lips swollen but carrying the same confidence, and your eyes. Your fucking eyes. Your devilish eyes. 

“Your desire is my pleasure, Y/N.” It was all Jake managed to say with his low, husky voice, before pushing deep into you.

Your mouth fell open with the breathtaking sensation of being filled up, and Jake began to slowly pump into you, giving you a little time to adjust. Or you thought so.

You still had no idea that he was already stepping near the edge of his own release, that being the reason for his deliberate hip rolls – there was no way in hell he was going to let the opportunity of enjoying your delicious squeezes around his dick slip away that easily.

“F–fuck,” his voice cracked as he whispered. “You f–feel amazing...”

You looked at Jake in the mirror after hearing how weakly his words came out, as if he were already lost in a haze of his own pleasure. And he truly was. A soft moan escaped your lips at the sight of his head tilted back, eyes closed, and mouth slightly parted, a faint smile gracing his lips.

When a specific deep thrust hit your g-spot, you almost cried out and Jake quickly paid attention to it. Then he bent you even more on the marble counter with one hand forcing your back, to ease his access to your sensitive area and help with his movements, speeding his hips the right amount to make you roll your eyes.

“T–that’s it...” You moaned. “Fucking me so good.” You praised and Jake groaned, his hands immediately sliding to cup one of your covered breasts, massaging it while keeping his pace, eyes locked at the insanely delightful view in the mirror.

A sequence of moans slipped out of your throat as Jake started fucking you hard and fast, desperately even. How your walls clenched tight around his cock was driving him insane, and he seeked for more of that addicting feeling.

The sound of the distant music did nothing to cover the slams sounds echoing the bathroom at that point, and honestly, neither of you cared anymore, far gone in your own pleasure.

At some point your own body started to encounter his pushes into you, but it wasn’t enough. So you straightened your posture a bit, tugging Jake’s hair while looking at his eyes in the mirror – his fucked up expression sending shivers down your spine. 

“Faster, Jake.” You urged, a bossy tone dripping out of your mouth like a sweet sugar that Jake grew obsessed with. And he instantly obeyed.

Your free hand cupped Jake’s on your boob and your eyes fluttered close while you tilted your head back, lost in the amazing feeling of Jake pounding into your g-spot, a mess of moans and whimpers coming from both of your mouths. 

Since he had his eyes open, Jake watched your body quivering with his thrusts, the fucking Prada logo on your dress shining with the dim light of the bathroom, your makeup slightly smeared due to the mess. It was completely out of this world how good you looked, and the way you were squeezing his dick together with the view, sent him even closer to the edge. 

“I’m gonna cum–” He said in one go, as an eager statement, not a warning, desperate to feel his release. 

Your breath started to quicken with his erratic pace, and you fluttered your eyes open again, catching the sight of Jake’s concentrated frown and mouth agape, letting out the prettiest moans you ever heard.

You said nothing, you just tightly gripped the hand on your chest and leaded it to your clit, inciting him to rub it for you. Jake got your message, and with all the overwhelming stimulus, your second orgasm hit, mouth falling open gasping for air as you supported yourself on the marble counter, your head falling forward while you kept on feeling Jake’s deep thrusts.

You clenched involuntarily around his dick, and that was enough for him to achieve his climax as well, resting his head on your shoulder, holding you close still.

Jake moved back with a hiss, completely dizzy and fulfilled. He removed the condom and tossed it onto the trashcan before dressing himself back again, helping you to recompose since your legs were shaky.

“Thank you,” you said in a hoarse voice when he offered you your purse and your panties, to which you decided not to wear again because, well, it was on the floor.

So you cheekily pushed into Jake’s pocket without saying a word, and he didn’t even noticed, too focused on looking out for you by supporting you to keep steady. 

You turned to the mirror, fixing your messy hair and makeup as best as you could. 

“How do we get out of this bathroom now?” Jake asked after the silence, watching you re-apply your red lipstick. 

You just smiled, placing a sweet kiss on his cheek to purposely leave a mark there. “Like this.” And you simply opened the door, not even caring about the instant stares you received as you did so, Jake following your lead right behind, a small shy smile adorning his lips. 

With a last goodbye look, you parted ways, your confidence evident in your stride, and Jake fumbling to smooth down his disheveled locks, now with the acknowledgment that the devil definitely wears Prada.

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: omegaverse, size difference, reader's second gender is omega, so there are mentions of pregnancy, somewhat subjugating omega politics, old-fashioned high-class politics of sorts

♡ prequel to this

♡ GN reader

His eyes are garnet and slim—you can’t make up your mind if they’re judgemental or just assessing. Either would be allowed, of course. The point of the date is for him to decide if you’re sufficient or not.

And yet, you’re the one taking him in. His main is ashen blonde, boyishly spikey and wild—not fine-kempt and slick like you’d pictured. He didn’t have any grey hair either, or stubble, or wrinkles. Though he’s still much bigger and burlier than they are, he can’t be any older than the eldest males back at the institution.

He’s obviously an Alpha, and still, it’s so odd.

“You’re young,” you end up saying.

His nose scrunches. “No younger than you.”

It must have sounded accusatory, even when you only meant to point it out for yourself. You probably ought to have said it silently, inside yourself, and not out loud like you did.

And so you apologize, “I’m sorry, I was—I was just expecting someone older…” You try smiling, but the thought of him actually having been older makes your throat tight, and you swallow thickly instead. “Much older.”

He sighs, looks off to the side instead of at you. His brows tighten—you probably want someone who’s already got a house and a car and a boat on a lake, not to mention a good salary and not the intern pay he’ll be living off of for at least the next year or so. His foot taps beneath the table. You feel it in the floorboards. “You disappointed or somethin’?” he grumbles through grit teeth and a slim frown.

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head, blruting, “No!” You even jump out of your chair, both hands slamming flat on the table, making the napkin-wrapped cutlery clatter within their confines. 

Quickly, but too late, you realize you’re causing a scene. Cheeks burning, you look around before settling down again—you’re not making a very good first impression so far.

You take a breath, confessing, “I mean, I’m happy,” You place your hands in your lap and then start fiddling with them. “This way, we can be together for a long time…” Your voice is breathy as you let out a somewhat apologetic sigh, smiling some. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you don’t dare look up to gauge his expression.

You end up laughing nervously in the silence, feeling the joke arise before you're able to dispel it. “I was afraid I was gonna have to be your nurse soon.”

His foot stops tapping. Then he scoffs.

You perk up again, fumbling over your newest mistake, already apologizing a second time so far, “I’m sorry, that was rude. You’re just not what I was expecting—I’m a little caught off guard, is all.”

He huffs, then grins. “That’s okay. You don’t gotta apologize.”

You both sit in silence after that. You pick your nails more. All the questions you’ve prepared are useless given his age—he doesn’t have an answer to how many kids he wants from you. Probably. It somehow feels strange asking him when he isn’t in his thirties or forties or early fifties.

You look at him in askance. It really is odd.

“You can ask—if you’re curious,” he sanctions.

You really want to, but you’ve made enough mistakes already. Your teachers wouldn’t be proud if they witnessed you acting so childish and not as the proper little lady they’ve trained you to be. 

“No, I shouldn’t.” You shake your head and look down at your lap.

“Come on, you don’t gotta worry about being rude with me,” he insists.

You bite your lip, feeling fidgety in your chair, peering up at him. “You sure?”

“Hit me.” 

The question leaps from your tongue before you have the mind to regret it. “How can you afford this?”

He leans back in his chair. “I can’t—not yet. My folks are paying.”

You hum—that makes more sense. “They must be nice,” you say.

“They try,” he agrees.

There’s a silence again. You don’t have anything appropriate to ask. You were more prepared to talk when spoken to, to answer his questions about your health and hobbies, all silly things that make you cute and likable, but given he’s your age, none of it seems any interesting. It seems he doesn’t have much to ask, either.

“I was unsure about this,” he declares after a while. “To be honest with you, it was all my mom’s idea. I didn’t ask for it…” With a pause, he picks up the menu that had been lying undisturbed in wait for his decision. “But, she tends to be right about most things. So, I think I’ll take the offer this once.”

He lets you decide without ordering for you. Neither of you decide to drink, even though you’re both old enough. The conversation is awkward, but you giggle a couple of times and he smirks in turn. You hadn’t anticipated it—this feeling. You’d anticipated the nerves and the tension—but not this other thing, this sweet fluttering feeling blossoming in your belly, flirty and fizzy. Is this what they call butterflies?

He’s left asking himself the same question.

♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[nightingale-prompts]

Saving Batboy

First | Previous | Next

It was as though he was being led through the city. Dick seemed to know exactly where he should go next as he drove.

Dick turned off his location as he closed in on Joker's location. If anyone had doubts about what would happen tonight they knew now. The clown dies tonight.

Batman never did it because he knew there would be no coming back once he crossed that line but he was not Batman.

Tim knew the moment Nightwing's symbol disappeared that he had found Joker's location. He knew he could track him still based on where he was before but he held off. The last time Dick crossed the line and killed the Joker, Tim was there to stop him. In the time since Tim had grown to regret it. Especially after Jason's return. He should be avenged after everything that happened.

Tim never put much thought into what happened when he was kidnapped just like Danny. Joker Jr was just a nightmare and everyone pretends it didn't happen. His past self doesn't exist to him and the gaps in his memory are better as they are.

If Dick was really going to finish this then Tim wasn't going to stop him. Bruce's code was his code alone. What of the Robins that suffer for it? What about his kids that he loves to the point of self-destruction if they die?

It was clear to Tim now. Batman isn't strong enough to kill Joker. If he can't handle it, someone else would.

Maybe Dick just cared more. Or maybe he had seen this happen too many times to sit by and let it happen again. The cost be damned.

Tim took a deep breath. He knew it was a bad move but he shut down the bat computer. No one could locate each other for the next 10 minutes. Enough time to give Dick the lead he really needs. All the comms are down and no information can be shared.

Tim looked up and saw Alfred putting down a cup of tea for him. Tim felt like a child caught doing something wrong under Alfred. But Alfred nodded wordlessly before turning to leave. He cast a forlorn glance at Jason's robin uniform before ascending the stairs.

****

"I was hoping Batman would come for the little bat. Oh sorry, I mean the boy." Joker mocked holding Danny by the back of the neck.

The teen's body was limp. His silver locks stained a rusty brown from dried blood. Blood covered his back and legs. If there had been any doubt if the wings were real there is none now.

"…" Nightwingwing said nothing. His fist clenched.

"You know I debated skinning him next. That fur of his would be a lovely shawl. It's so soft. But it looks like I won't have the time now." Joker provoked, running a hand through the boy's white neck fur.

"Get your hands off him." Nightwing demanded, his eyes locked on Danny for any signs of life.

"You know I am so curious what he was doing here. I was about to build a new trap here for fun when I stumbled upon this little guy here. Practically gift-wrapped. Did he run away from you? Just like you did from good ol'papa bat." Joker's smile widened sickeningly "This all feels so familiar, doesn't it little bird? Are you going to finish what you started?"

"I'm never letting you hurt my family again." No witty one-liners. No games. This bad joke ends today.

****

Batman had scoured the area. He memorize the last location Dick was before the system went down. He wasn't these kids' father for nothing he knew what they were doing.

When sound came back he had already made it to the abandoned factory. The comms rang back to life as the sounds of crying came through.

"Nononono…please no. Wake up. Please wake up." It was Dick's voice. "It's okay. I'm here now. So just wake up. We need to get home soon. Your favorite show will be on soon. WAKE UP! YOU CAN'T DIE!"

Batman bolted to their location and found Dick hovering over Danny trying to resuscitate him.

His son looked at him with pleading eyes.

"I can't hear his heart. He's not breathing." He let out a shaky breath. As distressed tears ran down his cheeks.

Bruce knelt next to them. Danny didn't react to the pressure on his chest. The pain should have at least caused an involuntary jerk if he wasn't too far gone.

Bruce signaled Dick to move back as he checked Danny's pulse again. Nothing. And he wasn't breathing. Bruce looked at his son. Deep down Dick probably knew.

"I'm sorry. He's gone." Bruce said simply as he took off his cloak.

Danny looked so peaceful. Like he was sleeping soundly. Bruce hated that his own suspension had been the thing that had prevented him from having a relationship with his own grandson. He felt foolish to not realize that of course Danny and Batboy were the same. It was a brilliant disguise. But he'd never get to say this to the boy.

Bruce wrapped the boy in his cloak.

"Come on. We'll fix this." He told Dick, carrying Danny for him.

The journey back to the manor was silent until.

"I'm sorry." Bruce said.

"Don't. Just Don't. He's my son. Its my fault." Dick rasped his voice scratchy from crying.

Bruce felt a bitter sting. That was exactly what he felt when he lost Jason and what happened with Tim. When Damian lost his life. These pains didn't go away.

When they arrived back in the Batcave Bruce laid Danny's body on the table. The others were notified about what happened and had already gathered.

Barbara looked like she had bawled her eyes out as she hugged Stephanie.

Damian had pressed himself close to Tim as the older brother told him that it was going to be okay.

The new hole in the wall was clearly Jason if his bloodied knuckles were any clues.

Cassandra paced the floor deep in thought. She was moments away from starting a new crusade.

Duke stared off into the distance. His anger boiling under the surface. All he could think about was the number of lives ruined by the Joker and even in death he took another.

Dick stood still as a statue. Thinking about if Danny could be brought back and even if he was his wings were gone. What if he was gone for good? Could he live like that?

Never had he understood Bruce more than in that moment.

Bruce braced himself for what would come next. He had a plan to bring Danny back at any cost.

But suddenly a sound broke through the tension.

A sneeze.

A fucking sneeze.

It came up from under the cloak.

Everyone snapped to look at the body hidden under the cloak. It shifted under the heavy black blanket groggily and yawned. Then Danny jumped up twisting to feel his back.

"What happened!!" He yelped.

[jockwrites]

DIE FOR ME - p.b

warnings: sexual content (reader receiving, strap LOL) angst if you squint, cursing, pet names? i guess?

a/n: not spell checked & english isn’t my first language, lmk how i did :-)

"good God."

those were the last words you heard Paige say before she stormed out of your apartment.

previously, the two of you had been arguing over the fact that for these past two weeks, you'd been suspecting cheating.

today, the topic had been brought back up when she came to your apartment late after practice. even though she'd told you she would be there immediately after. honestly, you just couldn't understand what's been keeping her away from you so fucking late.

you wanna decide to call it a night after she just stormed the fuck out, but you need to find out what's been happening. that's when you decide to find out for yourself.

you put on a jacket over your shorts and tee, grab your keys and head out.

while walking, you decide to check her location. and what do you know, it’s off.

this pissed you cleannnn off. & with your pace becoming faster and faster with each second that passes, her dorms come into view. you don’t waste a second getting into that building.

you hurrily walk to the elevator, eager to get up to that room.

as soon as you make it, not only do you knock once, but twice. and not a single peep heard from behind that door.

as you begin to knock again, the door opens. and it’s her. you’re outraged, angry, so many words to describe your feelings as of right now.

“why the hell is your location off,” you bickered, “and why didn’t you answer the door when i knocked the first TWO times?”

paige just stood there. she didn’t say a word, and this is what made you more frustrated.

as you’re going on and on about how furious you are, paige grabs you by the arm, pulling you into the apartment. she doesn’t say a word to you.

she pushes you against the wall, kissing your neck. and this, this put you into a trance you probably wouldn’t be able to get yourself out of.

her touch becomes more aggressive as you push on her chest, trying to get her to stop. right now you’re serious. but she’s irresistible

“are you pushing me away?” paige whispers into your neck.

“so now you wanna talk..” you scoff, breathing heavy.

“there’s nothing to say. you’re just delusional. you get these petty accusations, put them onto me, then expect me to just sit there and take it.” she slides her hand dangerously low down your shorts.

“i don’t expe..” you’re cut off by her fingers sliding into you.

“i don’t understand why you wanna start shit so bad,” her words sharp, vibrating into your neck as her kisses go lower and her pace increasing. “because if you want me to be a ‘bitch’, i can.”

“you just..” she grabs your right boob, groping as her fingers curl into you while kissing your jawline, leaving hickeys that’ll probably be there for the next day or two. “you just think shit is a game. it isn’t.”

“paige.. that’s not-“ you moan breathlessly, your words cut off by her lips colliding with yours.

“no no.. i know exactly what you’re trying to do.”

you love it when she’s like this. all mad & messed up when it comes to you, damn.

“maybe we should just drop it.” you begged, the pleasure and anger she’s bringing to you becoming overstimulating. you don’t know if she’s mad or horny. maybe both.

“you’re such a fucking brat,” she jeered, “you start shit but can’t finish it.”

her fingers are now pumping faster, her other hand coming up to the side of your neck. she’s practically choking you.

arguing and sex isn’t something you thought you’d been missing out on, guess you were wrong.

“fuck. paige. im sorry, i wasn’t trying to.”

“there’s no time for apologies. you did this shit.” she huffs, pulling her fingers out of you.

she licks them clean, looking you dead in the eyes. you’re left with an unfinished orgasm and now you’re aching for her touch. all that’s left is to see what’s she gonna do next.

“go.” she tempted.

“what? where?”

“in the fucking room. go.”

you walk to the room, opening the door. you see her messy bed, clothes on the floor, shoes everywhere and her phone. the phone you’ve been eager to check.

you sit on the bed, taking off your jacket. you slip off your shoes and throw them in a random corner while waiting for paige.

she walks in the room with nothing but a sports bra and white basketball shorts. she looks good, but heated.

she starts to walk toward you slowly with that look. that look, as if you’re some kind of prey.

“you done being a brat?” she whispers.

“i wasn’t being a brat in the first fucking place,” you sassed. “you’re just crazy.”

that’s when she walks over, pushing you down onto the bed. she’s hovering over you, angry and tempted.

“you thinks it’s okay to just act like a bitch all the time? accusing me of shit you know damn well i haven’t done?” now she’s mad. you’ve pushed her to her limits.

“take them off” she snarled, her eyes roaming to your shorts.

you quickly abide, slipping off your shorts. you already know the timing she’s on.

she takes off hers as well, revealing the purple strap harnessed to her.

“what. is that.” you panted. she’s never fucked you with a strap-on before, her fingers and mouth is just enough for you.

“what do you think it is?” she’s trying to be funny but you’ve never experienced anything like this before. you’re a virgin to “dick.”

“i’ve never- done this before.” you manage to breathe out. even though it’s scary, you want it. you want it to be with her, nobody else.

“you wanna do it? we don’t have to baby.” she gazes at you softly. it’s so attractive how she can go from mean to sweet. you love it.

“yeah, but only with you.” and as soon as those words left your mouth, her eyes went from a bright blue to grey.

she pulls your panties down your legs, revealing your soaked pussy.

“so wet for me already baby,” she purred, “not like this for anybody else hmm?”

“no, never.” you breathed as paige rubbed the tip of the plastic over your wet clit.

“fuck,” she urged “you know you can be a bitch sometimes?” she slides the strap into you, going at a slow pace.

“fuck- mm, i know pai..” you can’t manage to get words out at this point. the pleasure is unbearable.

as her pace speeds up, she grabs your legs, pulling them over her shoulders & around her neck.

as she hovers over you while fucking you senseless in missionary, she pulls her right arm over to rub your clit.

“you think i’d do this with another girl? huh?” she groans.

“HOLY SHIT. paige oh my-“ you whine.

“fuck,” she says, her pace speeding up. “you think im out here fucking other bitches senseless?”

she speeds up, pounding into you with the purple plastic. she removes her hand from your clit, inserting the thumb she used between your lips.

“fuck paige! shit im gonna cum” you moan.

“answer me. you think im doing that shit?” she growls.

she starts to go faster and faster, pumping in and out of you like a mad man.

“no pai- FUCK!” you panted.

“based on those fucking accusations,” she heaved, “you seem to be pretty stuck on that fucking- fuck. stuck on that ‘cheating’ shit.” she groaned. with every second that passes, she speeds up. seems like she’s angry.

“paige. im gonna CUM. OHSHIT” you whimper. the pleasure is starting to become overwhelming.

“then cum baby.” she leans down, whispering in your ear.

paige speeds up more and more, hitting the spot that makes you release all over “her.”

“you okay baby?” she says, collapsing beside you.

“you’re good at that.” you breathed.

she turns over to look at you, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“i love you, so much. you see the shit i just did? wouldn’t be caught dead doing that to someone else. i’d die for you.”

a/n: hi im stopping here bc idk what else to write. this isn’t rlly that good so if u have requests or suggestions (constructive criticism) i’d be happy to take them! ty for reading if u even made it this far, byebye

[shdysders]

if only

pairing: tara carpenter & reader

summary: if only tara would’ve chosen you for you, and not for who you were like.

word count: 3.2k

You knew it was normal for people to turn to alcohol after experiencing trauma.

The way it numbed the pain, dulled the sharp edges of haunting memories—it was something you had seen before, something you understood. After everything Tara had been through, it was the least you expected.

The massacre in Woodsboro had left her with more than just physical scars.

The betrayal of someone she had once loved—Amber, who turned out to be Ghostface—was a wound that cut deeper than any knife.

It wasn't just the shock of Amber's true identity, but the fact that Tara was the one who had to pull the trigger, killing the person she thought she knew in order to save her sister.

The memories of that night were like a broken record, stuck on replay.

Every time Tara closed her eyes, she was back in that room, her hands shaking as she held the gun, her heart pounding in her ears.

She would hold you tighter during those moments, as if the strength of her embrace could keep the nightmares at bay.

The way she kissed you harder, more desperately, or questioned where you were every time you left the room—these were her ways of keeping you close, of making sure she wouldn't lose you too.

You had known Tara all her life.

Growing up together, you'd always been close, but after everything that happened in Woodsboro, something had shifted between you.

It started small—extra moments of closeness, lingering touches that lasted just a little too long, her leaning on you more than ever before.

The change was subtle at first, but undeniable. When she started seeking you out not just for comfort but for something deeper, you couldn't bring yourself to resist. The truth was, you had started to feel something more for Tara too.

But as the days went by, you couldn't ignore the creeping doubt. That maybe you were just another distraction for Tara, another way to keep the darkness at bay.

Yet, whenever that doubt arose, she would somehow sense it, her arms wrapping around you tighter, her voice low and reassuring, even without you needing to say a word. That unspoken understanding only seemed to confirm your thoughts.

After the move from Woodsboro to New York, you had hoped that a change of scenery might help her start to heal.

But you weren't sure if it had made a difference. If anything, the bustling city seemed to give her more ways to bury her grief.

Tara threw herself into the whirlwind of college life, attending every party she could find, which in New York meant there was always something going on.

Every weekend, without fail, she was out late, coming home blackout drunk more often than not.

You were the first to notice the change in her. The way her hands trembled slightly when she thought no one was looking, the dark circles under her eyes from sleepless nights, and the way she buried herself in the noise and chaos of those parties—anything to keep from facing what was inside.

She would beg you to come with her to these parties, holding your hand a little too tightly as if fearing you might slip away in the crowd.

On nights when you had to study or work at your extra job, she would assure you she was fine to go alone.

But that assurance never lasted, always ending with you getting a call in the early hours to come and get her, to carry her back home when she was too far gone to stand on her own.

And tonight was no different.

You had been studying late into the night, the quiet hum of the city outside your window doing little to keep you company as you poured over your textbooks. The words on the pages blurred together as exhaustion settled in, but your mind wouldn't let you rest.

The quiet of your apartment seemed more restless than usual, and no matter how many times you turned over, sleep eluded you. You were used to going to bed alone on nights like this, used to Tara being out and about, so it wasn't her absence that kept you awake. Still, something nagged at the edge of your consciousness, keeping you from drifting off.

Finally, just as you felt yourself slipping into sleep, your phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up the room. Groggily, you reached for it, squinting at the brightness.

It was Chad. Your heart sank a little as you answered, knowing that a call from him at this hour could only mean one thing. Yet you didnt hesitate before answering

"She's asking for you," Chad said quietly, his voice gentle but insistent. "She's... she's pretty far gone, and she won't leave until you come."

You rubbed a hand over your face, trying to shake off the fog of near-sleep. "Where are you?" you asked, already pulling on your clothes.

He gave you the address of some off-campus apartment, the kind of place that always seemed to be hosting a party. With a sigh, you grabbed your keys and headed out into the night.

The streets were empty as you drove, the glow of the city lights casting long shadows across the pavement.

You knew the route by heart now, having made similar drives more times than you wanted to count.

As you pulled up to the address Chad had given you, you spotted him standing by the curb, holding Tara up as she swayed on unsteady feet.

She was dressed as a pirate, her costume in disarray, her hat missing, and her eyeliner smudged. Her head lolled slightly as Chad helped her toward your car, her feet dragging along the pavement.

"Thanks for coming," Chad said quietly as he eased her down into the front seat. He lingered for a moment before adding, "I don't know how many she's had tonight."

You nodded, trying to muster a tired smile. "Thanks, Chad. I'll take it from here."

He gave you a sympathetic look before stepping back. "Be careful," he said, the concern clear in his voice.

Once Chad closed the door, you turned to Tara.

She was slumped against the seat, her eyes half-lidded as she stared out the window, lost in whatever haze the alcohol had put her in.

For a moment, you considered trying to talk to her, to get her to see reason, but you knew better. This wasn't the time for deep conversations, not when she was like this.

As you started the car and began driving, you couldn't help but break the silence. "Tara, you can't keep doing this. This needs to stop."

You didn't know how much longer you could stand by and watch her destroy herself.

She blinked slowly, turning to look at you with bleary eyes. For a moment, she just stared, as if trying to process what you had said. Then her expression hardened, her brows knitting together in a frown.

"I don't need you telling me what to do," she muttered, her voice slurring but laced with irritation.

"Amber wouldn't have."

This was always how it went—her getting pouty and defensive, like a child refusing to be told what to do. She always brought up Amber whenever she was drunk, throwing her name out like a shield, deflecting from the real issue at hand. It hurt to hear, but you were used to it by now.

You sighed, and after a moment, you answered softly, "I know."

When you finally pulled up in front of your apartment building, getting Tara inside proved to be a struggle.

She stumbled with every step, her legs barely supporting her weight, and you had to practically carry her up the stairs.

Every time she leaned too heavily on you, you feared you both might topple over, but you held on, determined to get her inside without waking anyone.

By the time you reached your door, you were exhausted.

Tara mumbled something incoherent as you fumbled with the keys, trying to keep her upright.

Once inside, you helped her move as quietly as possible to avoid waking Sam. The last thing you needed was her storming out and seeing Tara like this, not again.

With Tara still leaning heavily on you, you guided her to her bedroom, the familiar path feeling longer than usual.

She was stumbling more than walking, and every time she nearly slipped, you tightened your grip, your patience worn thin but still holding.

You finally managed to get her into her room, her weight heavy against your side as you guided her to the bed.

The moment her legs hit the edge, she let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "You know, sometimes I think I'm just with you because it's easy," she muttered, her words slurred but cutting through you like a knife.

You winced, though you tried to hide it, focusing on helping her sit down.

The bed creaked under her as she slumped forward, her hands gripping the edge as if the room were spinning around her.

Her eyes, glazed over with a mix of alcohol and exhaustion, seemed unfocused.

"Like... you're just there, and I needed someone. Anyone."

She let out another laugh, this one quieter, more resigned. You could see the way her shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her even as she kept talking.

Her words hurt, stabbing into you with a cruel edge, but you knew better than to take them at face value when she was like this. Still, it was hard not to feel the sting of her honesty—or what passed for honesty in her drunken state.

You stayed silent, biting your lip to keep from saying something you'd regret.

Instead, you knelt down in front of her, gently removing her shoes one by one, focusing on the small, mundane task to keep your hands from trembling.

You told yourself she didn't mean it, that she was just drunk and hurting, but the doubt was there, creeping in like a shadow.

Tara didn't stop, the alcohol loosening her tongue further. She swayed slightly, her eyes glassy but filled with something unreadable, something that made your heart twist in your chest.

"Maybe if... if things had been different, I wouldn't have picked you," she continued, her voice wavering.

Her words were slow, as though she were piercing them together as she went, each one a careful, painful blow. "It's not like you're the love of my life or anything. You were just... there."

Her gaze finally met yours, and for a moment, she seemed almost vulnerable, like she was teetering on the edge of something she couldn't pull back from.

You searched her face, looking for some sign that she didn't mean it, that this was just the alcohol talking, but all you found was the deep, gnawing ache of doubt.

Your throat felt tight as you fought back the urge to cry, the tears welling up despite your best efforts to push them down.

It was one thing to know she was drunk, that she was hurting and lashing out—but it was another to hear those words from someone you loved. To feel so disposable.

You took a shaky breath and forced yourself to focus on the moment, not the weight of her words. But the hurt lingered, a heavy presence in the room that you couldn't shake.

Still, you swallowed hard, keeping your voice steady. "Arms up. Let's get you changed."

She hesitated, her gaze lingering on you as if searching for a reaction. When she didn't get one, she huffed in frustration but lifted her arms anyway, letting you help her out of her costume and into more comfortable clothes.

You gently guided her arms into the sleeves of a soft, oversized shirt, the fabric brushing against her skin as you helped her pull it down.

Tara swayed slightly, her head lolling to one side, but you remained focused, carefully easing her out of her costume.

As you slipped her into a pair of comfy sweatpants, you noticed how she barely reacted, her eyes staring blankly at a spot on the floor.

You adjusted the waistband and made sure the pants were comfortable, avoiding any pinching or tightness.

With the costume set aside, you carefully adjusted her shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles and ensuring it fit comfortably.

You avoided meeting her gaze, you could feel her stare and how she was looking at you. Angry, like everything you did was wrong.

You helped her lay down on the bed. You adjusted the pillow behind her head and reached for the covers, but before you could pull it over her, Tara's voice broke the silence.

She looked up at you, her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that spoke of frustration and raw emotion. There was a hardness in her gaze, as if she was challenging you with the truth she was about to reveal.

"You know I only chose you because you're like her, right?" she said, her voice laced with anger, as if saying Amber's name was an effort in itself.

You froze, your hand still hovering above the covers. Even though you already knew who she was talking about, you asked quietly, "Like who?"

Tara's eyes bore into yours, and she said sharply, "Amber."

The anger in her voice was palpable, but you could also sense regret hiding beneath her words, as if she knew how much she was about to hurt you but couldn't stop herself.

You took a deep breath, trying to mask the sting you felt in your chest. "How come?" you asked, keeping your voice as steady as you could, even though your heart was pounding.

Tara looked at you with a sharp gaze, almost inspecting your face for any hint of vulnerability.

When she didn't get the reaction she was searching for, it was as though something darkened behind her eyes, pushing her to keep going, to say worse things, as if she could force you to break.

She looked at you with unfocused eyes, her expression tight. "You look just like her when you smile," she slurred, her tone was sharper now, as if the words were meant to cut deep.

"The way your eyes crinkle up, it's like you're her twin or something."

She paused, a hint of bitterness in her tone. "And your laugh—God, it's just like hers. It gets under my skin.

As she spoke, her words seemed to drift into a bitter, almost mocking tone, as if the resemblance to Amber was a cruel joke to her. The laughter in her voice contrasted sharply with the hurt it left behind.

You stood there, feeling increasingly insecure about your smile, your laugh, and everything that had been said. The sting of her words left you questioning everything you thought you knew about how you presented yourself to her.

Her words felt like knives, each one slicing through you, but you remained still, biting back the pain. Inside, a storm of emotions raged—anger, sadness, disbelief—but you fought to keep them at bay, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing you crumble.

"You're always trying to be so understanding, acting like you know exactly what I need. It's exhausting, really," Tara continued, her voice growing harsher, the alcohol pushing her to say things she might've kept hidden otherwise.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill.

Memories flashed through your mind—times you had gone out of your way to do things for her, to make her feel better or to bring a smile to her face.

You had done so much because she asked or because you hoped it would mean something to her. But now, it felt as if everything you had done was just a game or a trivial pursuit in her eyes.

When she still didn't get the reaction she wanted, Tara's voice rose, almost desperate now. "You don't matter, you know? Not like she did."

That last statement shattered something inside you. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from spilling over, but they came anyway, hot and unwelcome.

The room seemed to close in around you, her words echoing in your head.

You knew—deep down, you'd always known—that you couldn't compete with a ghost, with the memory of someone she loved so deeply.

Tara had brought Amber up countless times before, always with a mix of regret and longing that you had tried to ignore. Each mention of Amber, every story she told with a hint of nostalgia or pain, was a reminder that you were always secondary in her heart.

You remembered the times when, after a few too many drinks, Tara had let slip how Amber had been irreplaceable, how no one could ever fill that void.

You had brushed off those comments, hoping that with time, you could make her forget or at least help her heal.

But now, standing here, the truth was undeniable. You had tried so hard to be what she needed, but you could never be what she wanted most.

And yet, Tara wasn't done. Her voice grew louder, almost as if she wanted the whole world to hear her torment.

Her gaze was distant, and she started to laugh bitterly. "You have no idea how badly I want to break up with you," she slurred, her voice rising with a frustrated intensity.

Her voice grew louder, and you were starting to worry she would wake Sam up. "You look at me with all this love. And I can't handle it. It's like... I feel suffocated by how much you care, and it's not even real for me."

You swallowed hard, struggling to keep your voice steady as you tried to process the pain. "I'm sorry," you said, the words barely escaping your lips, as if saying them aloud would make the hurt even more real.

Tara's eyes were drooping now, her anger slowly dissolving into exhaustion. But before she could drift off, she mumbled, almost as if to herself, "Might as well tell you the truth... you'll probably stay anyway, right?"

Her tone was a mix of bitterness and resignation, as if she knew, deep down, that no matter how much she tried to push you away, you would still be there.

Her words stung more than anything she'd said before, and you felt your chest tighten.

You took a shaky breath, your own emotions raw, and wiped away the tears that had started to fall. Forcing a smile, even though it felt like a fragile mask, you gently pulled the covers up around her, smoothing them with careful, tender motions.

As you leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, you noticed her breathing was becoming more even, the last traces of consciousness slipping away. "Goodnight, Tara," you said quietly, your voice trembling as you tried to keep it as gentle as possible.

She murmured something incoherent, her words tired and slurry, before finally succumbing to sleep. You lingered for a moment, watching her with a heavy heart, wishing you could make her see how much you truly cared.

As you walked out of her room, the quiet of the apartment settling around you like a heavy weight, you paused at the door. The hurt from her words still fresh, you whispered to the empty space, the heavy words that she couldn't hear.

"I love you."

[stylesispunk]

Silent Strain | Part iii

Outbreak! Joel Miller x f!reader

previous part | next part

chapter summary: Joel is afraid of letting you out of his sight and you were afraid of him slipping away.

w.c: 16k> (it was going to be 8k but this happened)

warnings: angst, mentions of panic attack, fluff. no proofreading. Probably some things won't make sense, but I felt pressured and I had to post this chapter.

a/n: hello! Last fic I posted didn't go how I expected but here's another chapter of this series. I hope you like this chapter and PLEASE share your thoughts with me. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

As the first gloomy light of morning crept through the window, Joel felt like he could finally breathe again. The soft, grey dawn brought with it a sense of calm that the night had cruelly stolen away. He didn’t fear the darkness itself; he'd learned long ago to live within its shadows, but he feared the memories that the darkness brought to him. The loss, the crying, the desperation... and the blood.

The thought of losing another child, and losing you in the process, cracked the rough surface he had been hiding behind for so many years. It was too much; it was too familiar. As much as he tried to stay strong, the fear had gnawed at him, tearing at the fragile walls he had built around his heart.

Your breathing had steadied, though the pain had not fully subsided. He could feel your heartbeat against his chest, uneven but there, steadying his own frantic pulse. He had held you tighter, his own breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps, trying to stay calm for you, for the baby.

After the scare from last night, Joel had held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his face buried in your hair. He whispered softly; words meant to soothe you but also to keep his own panic at bay. "It's okay, darlin'. I'm here. Just breathe. Stay with me…"

The hours had dragged on, and every flicker of discomfort on your face sent a fresh wave of panic through him. He hadn't let himself sleep, afraid that if he closed his eyes, he might wake up to another nightmare.

Now, in the pale morning light, Joel watched you. Your eyes were closed, but your breathing was calm and even, a welcome change from the strained, pained gasps that had filled the room only hours before. He stroked a thumb gently along your arm, his touch feather-light, afraid of disturbing you but needing the contact to ground himself.

Ellie, who had kept a worried vigil nearby, finally stirred awake. She glanced over and saw Joel watching you, the lines of tension still etched into his face.

"Is… is she okay?" Ellie whispered, moving closer, her eyes wide with concern.

Joel nodded slowly, his voice barely a murmur. "Yeah, I think… I don’t know.”

Ellie let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "God, Joel, you looked so scared," she admitted, trying to lighten the mood, though her voice was shaky. "I’ve never seen you like that."

Joel’s lips twitched into a faint, weary smile. "Guess I'm getting soft, huh?"

Ellie leaned against the wall, watching him carefully. "That isn’t bad thing," she muttered, her eyes flicking over to you. “She needs you.”

Joel’s gaze softened, his eyes returning to you, still sleeping peacefully. Then, his gaze went to Ellie’s again.

“Ellie, can you take care of her for a moment?”

Ellie nodded, confused as Joel stood up, walking towards the door without saying a word to her.

Joel's steps were heavy, each one echoing softly in the quiet room. He reached the door and paused for a moment, his hand resting on the rough wood. His shoulders were tense, his head slightly bowed as if wrestling with some invisible weight.

Ellie watched him, frowning. "Joel?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Where are you going?"

He didn't turn around, didn't meet her gaze. "Just… need a minute," he replied, his tone low and strained. "I'll be back soon."

Ellie’s eyes flicked back to you, still resting, and then back to Joel. “She’s gonna wake up and ask for you,” she said, her voice gentle, but firm. "You sure you’re, okay?"

Joel nodded, though his movements were stiff, almost mechanical. "Yeah," he muttered, though he didn’t sound convinced. “I just need some air."

With that, he slipped out the door, the cold morning air rushing in as he opened it. He took a deep breath, feeling the sharp chill hit his lungs, grounding him momentarily. He stepped outside, letting the door close quietly behind him.

He stood there, just outside, his breath visible in the cold air, his mind racing. The panic from the night before still clung to him, like a dark shadow that refused to leave. His hands trembled slightly as he ran them through his hair, trying to calm himself down.

He couldn't shake the image of you in pain, the fear in your eyes, the blood on your hands. It felt like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from, a terrifying reminder of all the things he couldn't control, all the people he couldn't protect.

He closed his eyes, leaning against the wall of the house, his breathing coming in short, uneven bursts. He pressed his hands against his chest, trying to steady his heart, but the memories wouldn't let him rest. Memories of Sarah, of the pain of losing her, of the years spent hardening himself against that same pain.

And now, here he was again, facing the possibility of losing someone he cared about more than he wanted to admit.

"Come on, Joel," she muttered under her breath, killing the silence on Joel’s mind.

“Go back inside” he said.

Ellie jumped slightly at his words, her eyes darting to Joel. She could see the tightness in his shoulders, the tension in his jaw. For a moment, she considered arguing, but something in his voice stopped her. There was a rawness there, a plea she hadn’t heard before.

“Joel…” she started, her voice softer now, more careful.

His eyes flicked to hers, the pain clear, almost palpable. “Ellie, just… go back inside,” he repeated, his tone almost breaking. “Please.”

She hesitated, biting her lip, before nodding “You know it’s not your fault.”

Joel's face tightened at Ellie's words, his jaw clenching as if he was holding back a torrent of emotion. He shook his head, looking away for a moment, his gaze hard and distant, lost in anger and regret.

“I dragged her here,” he muttered, his voice rough and strained. “Knowing her state, knowing what could happen… I should’ve left her behind. Should’ve kept her safe.”

Ellie took a step closer, her own face a mix of frustration and empathy. “But you didn’t,” she argued softly. “Because you knew she’d never forgive you if you did. She wanted to be with you, Joel.”

He looked back at her, his eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing her words. “It doesn’t matter,” he replied, his voice a little louder now, a little more forceful. “I still made the call. I still put her in danger.”

Ellie shook her head. “You’re doing everything you can to protect her. You think she doesn’t know that?” She took another step closer, her tone firmer. “She trusts you, Joel. She believes in you. And… so do I.”

For a moment, Joel’s expression softened, the harsh lines of his face easing slightly. But then he closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath, as if trying to steady himself. “I don’t know if that’s enough, kid,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Ellie sighed, glancing back at the door. “It has to be,” she said. “Because she needs you now more than ever. And you’re the one who’s gonna keep her safe.”

Joel let out a long, shaky breath, his shoulders slumping as if a weight had settled on them. He looked at Ellie, his expression caught between determination and fear. "Yeah… I hope you're right," he murmured, almost to himself.

Ellie reached out, touching his arm gently, a rare moment of softness between them. “Just… don’t beat yourself up too much, alright?” she said, her voice low. “She’s gonna need you to be strong for her. And so am I.”

Joel and Ellie stepped quietly back inside the house, the dim light from the early morning casting long shadows across the walls. Joel's eyes immediately moved to you, lying on the couch, your face still and peaceful in sleep. For a brief moment, he felt a strange calm settle over him, just seeing you safe, resting.

But as if sensing their presence, you began to stir. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the dim light. The ache in your body was still there, a dull throb in your stomach, but the sharp pain had subsided, leaving only a sense of heaviness. You blinked a few times, your gaze settling on Joel and Ellie as they stood by the door, both looking back at you with relief.

“Hey…” you murmured; your voice raspy with sleep. You tried to push yourself up, but Joel was by your side in an instant, his hands gently helping you to sit up. His touch was careful, as if he was afraid you might break.

“Take it easy,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing.

You nodded, wincing slightly as you adjusted yourself. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… I just…” Your voice trailed off, and you swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “I’m okay, really.”

Ellie stepped closer, her eyes wide with concern, but there was a hint of a teasing smile on her lips. “You better be, ‘cause I don’t think I can handle Joel being that freaked out again,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

You chuckled softly, a weak smile spreading across your face. “Guess I gave you both a bit of a scare, huh?”

Joel’s expression softened, his thumb gently brushing against the back of your hand. “Yeah, you could say that,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

He didn’t meet you gaze, and you know damn well what that meant. You noticed the way his eyes seemed to avoid yours, his gaze fixed on some invisible point in the room. His thumb kept moving over the back of your hand, but there was a tightness in his jaw, a hesitation in his posture that made your heart ache.

“Ellie,” you said softly, turning your head toward her. She paused, halfway through rummaging in the supply bag, her eyes darting between you and Joel. “Could you… give us a minute?”

Ellie hesitated, her gaze lingering on Joel for a moment, and then on you. She seemed to understand that something more needed to be said between the two of you. She nodded slowly, trying to mask her concern with a casual shrug. "Yeah, sure," she muttered, trying to play it cool, even as her curiosity buzzed beneath the surface. “I’ll, uh, go check on the weather or something.”

She grabbed her jacket, slinging it over her shoulders and headed toward the door. “But if I hear any yelling, I’m coming back in,” she added with a small grin, trying to lighten the mood before she slipped out the door, leaving the two of you alone.

The room was suddenly much quieter without Ellie’s presence. The only sounds were the crackling of the dying fire and the distant, muted wind outside. You turned back to Joel, your eyes searching his face. He still wasn’t looking at you, his thumb still moving in that steady rhythm against your hand.

“Joel,” you whispered, trying to draw his gaze back to yours. "Look at me."

He hesitated, his shoulders tense, but finally, he lifted his eyes to meet yours. You could see the conflict there, the worry, the guilt. “What is it?” you asked gently. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He took a deep breath, his jaw clenching for a moment before he spoke. "I… I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “For all of it. For dragging you out here, for… putting you in danger."

You shook your head, squeezing his hand. “Joel, I made that choice. I knew what I was getting into.”

He shook his head, his eyes dropping again, filled with that familiar guilt. “No… you didn’t. Not really,” he muttered.

You reached up, cupping his cheek with your free hand, forcing him to look at you again. “Joel, stop,” you said firmly, your voice steady. “Nothing is going to happen to us. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”

He closed his eyes, taking a shuddering breath. “I’m just… I’m so damn scared,” he confessed, his voice breaking slightly. "Of losing you. Of losing another…"

You felt a lump form in your throat, understanding the weight of his words, the depth of his fear. You leaned closer, pressing your forehead against his, your voice soft.

“Joel, the baby is okay,” you reassured him softly, hoping your words would ease some of the fear you saw in his eyes. "I can feel it."

He shook his head slightly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “How do you know?” he asked, his voice low and rough. There was a tremor in it, a crack that revealed the depth of his concern. “How do you know when we’re out here, and everything’s…” He trailed off, his breath hitching.

You swallowed, trying to find the right words, to offer him some kind of comfort. “I just do,” you whispered, moving closer to him. “I can feel it. Maybe it’s just… a mother’s instinct. But I believe it, Joel. I feel like… this baby is strong.”

Joel's eyes softened at your words, but the fear still lingered there, heavy and ever-present. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to steady himself. His hand moved to rest on your stomach, his palm pressing gently against the swell. He closed his eyes, as if trying to feel what you felt, to believe in what you were saying.

“Strong,” he repeated softly, almost like he was testing the word, trying it out to see if it fit. "I hope so… I really do."

You placed your hand over his, squeezing it lightly. “I know so,” you assured him, your voice unwavering. “I know it’s a little tiny thing but..I feel it.”

He exhaled slowly; his breath warm against your cheek. “I want to believe you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I do."

“Then believe me,” you urged, your thumb brushing against his cheek in a soothing motion. “We’ve made it this far, right? We’re almost there, Joel… we just need to hold on a little longer.”

He nodded, a small, reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah,”

For a moment, the room was silent except for the crackling of the fire and the faint sound of the wind outside. Joel finally met your gaze again, a mix of hope and fear in his eyes. "I’ve lost so much,” he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t… I can’t lose you, too.”

Your heart ached at his words, understanding the depth of his pain. You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, trying to pour all the reassurance you could into that touch. "You won't," you whispered against his mouth. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

He kissed your back, a little more desperately this time, as if he were afraid you might disappear. You held him close, feeling his body tremble slightly against yours, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts.

Ellie pushed the door open, her footsteps echoing in the quiet room. She froze mid-step, her eyes wide as she took in the sight of you and Joel, wrapped in each other's arms, lips just parting from the kiss. Her face scrunched up in mock disgust, and she rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Ugh, seriously?” she groaned, putting her hands on her hips. “If you two wanted to get all mushy, you could’ve at least sent me away or something. Or, I don’t know, given me a warning!”

Joel pulled back, a faint blush creeping up his neck. He coughed, trying to mask the embarrassment with a stern look. “Ellie,” he started, his voice gruff, but she just waved him off.

“No, no, it’s fine," she said with a playful grin, "I mean, I get it… the world’s falling apart, and you’re all about the dramatic declarations of love. But can you keep it PG for the kid in the room?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension of the moment breaking as you met Ellie’s teasing gaze. “Sorry, Ellie,” you chuckled.

She rolled her eyes again but smiled, moving to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. "Yeah, yeah. Just… don't make me an unwilling participant in your cheesy romance, okay?" She paused, glancing between the two of you, her expression softening just a bit. "But… I’m glad you’re both okay.”

Joel shook his head, a small, reluctant smile forming on his lips. "We’re okay, kiddo," he replied softly, his voice still carrying a hint of emotion. "We’re all okay."

Ellie grinned, nudging Joel lightly with her shoulder. “Good,” she muttered, “'Cause I need both of you.”

You and Joel exchanged amused glances, and for a moment, the heaviness in the room seemed to lift, replaced by a sense of warmth and comfort in knowing you were all still together, facing whatever came next.

Four months had passed since that tense night, and winter had settled in with a cold grip. The once vibrant landscape had transformed into a stark, snowy expanse. You, now seven months pregnant, felt the weight of your journey more than ever, but the quiet strength of Joel and Ellie beside you made the harsh conditions more bearable.

Now seven months pregnant, you felt the weight of it all pressing down on you, not just the baby growing inside, but the miles you had trudged through the wilderness. Your feet ached, your back was sore, and your hands were red and raw from the cold. Yet, the quiet strength of Joel and Ellie beside you made the harsh conditions somehow more bearable. Joel, ever watchful, kept close, his eyes always scanning the horizon for any sign of danger, his presence a constant comfort. Ellie, with her relentless spirit, kept the mood light with her jokes and sarcastic comments, doing her best to distract you from the relentless chill.

The trio of you had walked through miles of frost-covered terrain, the snow crunching beneath your boots. Each step was a reminder of how far you had come and how much further you still had to go. Wyoming was just ahead, a small but significant milestone in your quest for safety and a future.

Joel trudged ahead, his face set in determined lines, but every now and then he would glance back at you, making sure you were okay. He had taken to carrying a small pack with supplies, his concern for you palpable. Ellie, now a bit more grown and experienced, walked close by, occasionally breaking the silence with a joke or a comment, trying to keep your spirits up.

You looked at Joel’s profile, his face partially hid the fear on his bones and despite his gruff exterior, he had become your rock through this tumultuous journey. You had come to rely on his strength and his soft, rare moments of tenderness.

December 1st

“Winter has arrived with a vengeance. The cold is biting, and our progress has slowed. We’re staying in an old barn for the night, huddled together to keep warm. Joel’s been making sure the fire stays lit, while Ellie tries to make the best of our situation.

I can feel the baby kicking more strongly now. It’s a constant reminder of why we’re enduring all of this. Joel’s been more attentive, though still guarded. He’s trying so hard to protect us, and I wish he could see that his presence alone is enough.

The snow makes everything look different. Almost beautiful, in a way that feels wrong given the world we’re living in. We made camp in a small cabin tonight. Joel found some firewood, and Ellie kept herself busy by trying to make soup out of what little we had. She’s worried about me, even though she pretends not to be. I can see it in the way she watches me, like she’s waiting for something to happen. Joel, too, keeps his eyes on me, never letting me stray too far. I think he’s afraid, maybe more than he’ll ever admit.

The baby’s been kicking more. It’s a strange feeling, like little taps from the inside, reminding me that there’s something good in this world. Something worth fighting for.”

The cold wind whipped around you, making it difficult to see very far ahead. Joel motioned for a short break, and you gratefully lowered yourself onto a nearby snow-covered log. Ellie quickly dug out some snacks and hot drinks from her pack, her hands red and numb from the cold.

“Here,” she said, handing you a steaming cup. “This should help warm you up.”

You took the cup gratefully, savoring the warmth as it seeped into your fingers and then your body. “Thanks, Ellie,” you said, smiling. “I don’t know how we’d have made it without you.”

Ellie shrugged; her cheeks flushed from the cold. “Just doing my part,” she said with a wink. “And keeping you guys from going completely crazy.”

Joel joined you, taking a seat beside you and offering you a small piece of dried fruit. “We’re almost there,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “Just a bit further, and we’ll be in Wyoming.”

You nodded, taking comfort in his words. “I know,” you replied. “It’s just... sometimes it feels like it’s never going to end.”

Joel’s hand reached out, gently resting on your knee for a few minutes to provide the comfort he knew you needed.

As you made your way through the snow-covered terrain, the excitement of nearing Wyoming provided a much-needed boost. Joel’s usual calm demeanor had been unwavering through most of the journey, but today, there was an underlying tension in his movements that you and Ellie didn’t immediately notice.

Joel’s breaths were more rapid and shallow, though he tried to mask it behind a determined facade. He kept a firm grip on his pack and occasionally glanced around with a slightly strained look. His face, though mostly hidden by his scarf, betrayed signs of an inner struggle that he wasn’t quite ready to share.

Ellie’s voice broke the silence, sharp and unfiltered as always.

"Are you dying?" she asked, half-joking but with an edge of genuine concern. She was walking beside you, her eyes narrowed at Joel, who hadn’t slowed his pace despite the obvious tension in his movements.

Joel grunted, his response delayed as he adjusted the pack on his shoulder. "No," he said curtly, his breath coming out in visible puffs in the cold air. "I’m fine."

"You don’t look fine," Ellie pressed, glancing at you as if seeking backup. "You’re all... sweaty and weird."

You frowned, watching Joel carefully now. Ellie wasn’t wrong—there was something off about him today. The way his shoulders hunched, his steps just a bit too heavy, like he was pushing through something. He had been quiet, more so than usual, and you could sense the strain behind his eyes whenever he glanced back at you.

"Joel?" you asked, your voice softer than Ellie’s but carrying the same concern. "What’s going on?"

He slowed his steps, finally stopping to catch his breath. His hand went to his side, rubbing it briefly before he straightened up, avoiding eye contact. "It’s nothin’," he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual strength. "Just... pushin' too hard today. We’re close, is all. No time to slow down."

Ellie crossed her arms, her eyes flicking between you and Joel with a skeptical look. "Right," she said, not convinced. "You’re not dying, but you’re also... not dying?"

Joel shot her a look that could’ve silenced most people, but not Ellie. "I said I’m fine."

You stepped closer to him, concern outweighing your hesitation. "Joel, you need to tell us if something’s wrong. You can’t carry this all by yourself."

He exhaled through his nose, the stubbornness etched in his expression softening for just a moment. "I’ll be alright," he said, though now his voice was quieter, less defensive. "Just... need a minute. We’ll keep movin’ after that."

Ellie threw her hands up. "Well, that’s reassuring," she muttered, but you could tell the worry hadn’t left her eyes.

You stayed close to Joel, watching him as he tried to steady his breathing, his hands resting on his knees for support. The tension that had been building inside you all day finally surfaced, the reality of how much you were relying on him pressing down on you. But even now, as he struggled, he was still trying to protect you both.

Joel glanced up at you, catching your gaze, and for a brief second, his walls dropped. There it was—the vulnerability he was so good at hiding, but not today. Not from you.

“I want to rest for a bit” you said, placing your hand over your swollen belly. You needed the rest, but you also wanted to force Joel to slow down a bit.

Joel’s eyes flicked down to your hand resting on your belly, then back up to meet your gaze. His expression softened, the usual stubborn resistance he wore melting away for a moment. He sighed, clearly torn between pushing forward and giving in to the obvious need for a break. You could see the struggle in him—the need to keep going, to get you all to safety—but he couldn’t deny the toll it was taking on both of you.

"Yeah, alright," he muttered, standing upright and scanning the area. "We’ll rest."

Ellie, who had been quietly watching the exchange, gave a slight huff of relief. "Finally," she said, throwing her pack down onto the snow and plopping down next to it. She stretched her legs out in front of her, rubbing her hands together for warmth. "You both needed this."

You nodded, grateful for the pause, though your focus remained on Joel. He had been pushing himself too hard, and the weight of that knowledge gnawed at you. It wasn’t just about the miles or the cold—it was the responsibility, the fear of what would happen if he couldn’t protect you both. You were carrying a life inside of you, and while you knew Joel would never admit it, that added an extra layer of pressure on him.

Joel knelt down beside you, his eyes still scanning the landscape as though danger could appear at any moment. "We won’t stay long," he said, his voice low. "Just enough time to catch our breath."

But it wasn’t true.

As night wore in, Joel had begun gathering wood for a fire, his movements stiff from the weight he carried, not just the physical strain but the burden of keeping you all safe. You watched him silently, your breath visible in the cold night air, as he crouched near a small clearing, arranging the branches and kindling with expert precision. The flicker of the firelight cast long shadows across his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw.

Ellie sat nearby, uncharacteristically quiet, watching Joel with a mixture of curiosity and concern. She hugged her knees to her chest, her usual stream of sarcastic comments absent for now. The cold seemed to have silenced her usual banter, or maybe she was just tired, like the rest of you.

Joel caught your gaze from across the fire, his eyes locking onto yours for just a moment longer than usual. He was tired—so tired. But he wouldn’t say it. He wouldn’t admit that he needed to rest just as much as the rest of you, if not more. His protectiveness ran so deep, it was like a force of nature, driving him even when his body begged for relief.

"You should sleep," he muttered, breaking the silence, his voice rough but soft. "I’ll keep watch."

"You need to rest too, Joel," you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper over the crackling fire. "You can’t keep pushing yourself like this."

He didn’t respond right away, his eyes flickering to the flames as if avoiding the truth of what you were saying. Ellie, sensing the tension, chimed in from her spot by the fire.

"Yeah, seriously, man. You’ve been on ‘protector mode’ for hours now. You’re not a machine, you know."

Joel grunted, his usual response when he didn’t want to argue but also didn’t want to agree. He poked at the fire with a stick, the sparks floating up into the dark sky. "I’m fine," he said again, the same phrase he’d been using all day, but it sounded weaker now. Less convincing.

You leaned back against the cave wall, watching him through the flickering light. He was still trying to protect you, still carrying the weight of all your lives on his shoulders. But you could see it wearing on him, the exhaustion, the fear he wouldn’t admit to, the responsibility that felt crushing.

"Joel," you said quietly, "we’re not going to make it if you don’t take care of yourself too.

His eyes snapped to yours again, something unreadable passing through them. For a moment, you thought he might argue, might tell you once again that he was fine. But then he sighed, the sound heavy with everything he wasn’t saying.

"I’ll rest when you two are safe," he said, his voice rough and tired, like he was trying to hold back the weight of the world. "I promise."

Ellie threw a stick into the fire, watching it crackle with an unimpressed look. "Great. So, we’re just supposed to wait until you collapse?"

Joel shot her a look, but it lacked its usual sharpness. You could see that even he was starting to acknowledge the truth.

And just when he was about to say something, you moved uncomfortable. 

Before Joel could respond to Ellie’s sharp comment, you shifted in your spot, a small grimace passing over your face as the baby kicked again. This time, it was stronger, more insistent, and the discomfort rippled through you unexpectedly. You instinctively placed a hand over your belly, your breath catching as the sensation overwhelmed you.

Both Joel and Ellie immediately noticed the change in your posture. Joel's eyes widened, all traces of exhaustion vanishing in an instant as he leaned closer, his expression full of concern.

“What is it?” His voice was tight, his protective instincts kicking in instantly. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, though the tension in your face said otherwise. “I’m fine… it’s just… the baby’s kicking. It’s strong.”

Ellie scooted over, her eyes wide with curiosity and a mix of awe. “Whoa, really?” she asked, her usual snark replaced by genuine interest. “Can I feel?”

You smiled, despite the ache, and gestured for Ellie to come closer. She tentatively reached out, her small hand resting on your belly. A few moments passed, and then the baby kicked again, more pronounced this time. Ellie’s face lit up, her eyes going wide with amazement.

“That’s wild,” she breathed. “It’s like… a real person in there, huh?”

Joel remained still, his expression a mixture of hesitation and uncertainty. His eyes flickered from your face to your belly, where Ellie’s hand still rested, her excitement palpable. But Joel… his gaze was distant, conflicted, as though something heavy was weighing on his mind.

You watched him for a moment, noticing the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched like he was fighting something deep within. He had been so protective of you and the baby, yet now, there was this hesitation that hadn’t been there before. Like the reality of it all was finally sinking in, and it scared him in a way he hadn’t expected.

Your heart softened at the sight of him—this man who had carried so much weight on his shoulders, trying to keep all of you safe. And now, with the baby growing inside you, it seemed like the responsibility was becoming even more overwhelming for him.

Without saying a word, you reached for Joel’s hand, gently pulling it toward your belly. He resisted at first, his eyes meeting yours with an uncertain look. But you smiled, reassuring him, and after a beat, he let you guide his hand to rest over where the baby had just kicked.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. His hand, warm and rough, pressed against your belly, and then the baby kicked again—strong and insistent, like it was reminding him of its presence. Joel’s breath hitched, and his eyes widened in surprise. You could see the emotions flashing across his face—fear, wonder, maybe even hope—but he didn’t pull away.

He swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. “That’s… that’s the baby,” he said, his tone filled with awe, like he couldn’t quite believe it was real.

You nodded, your hand still resting on top of his, offering comfort. “Yeah, Joel. That’s our baby.”

For a moment, Joel just stared at your belly, his hand still pressed against you. Then, slowly, his walls started to crumble. His shoulders slumped, and he let out a shaky breath, the tension that had been building inside him for days finally releasing.

As you watched Ellie marvel at the sensation of the baby kicking, you couldn’t help but notice Joel’s face. His eyes, though focused on your belly, were distant, clouded with thoughts you knew all too well. His silence spoke louder than any words could, and you could see the weight of it pressing down on him, the same doubts and fears he always tried to hide. But this time, there was no hiding.

Without thinking, you gently placed your hand over Ellie’s, signaling for her to stop. "Hey, El… let’s give the baby a little break," you said, your voice soft but firm.

Ellie looked up at you, confused for a second, before pulling her hand back and sitting up straight. She shrugged nonchalantly, though her eyes lingered on your belly, clearly still amazed. “Yeah, sure. That was pretty cool though,” she muttered, leaning back and poking the fire with another stick.

But your attention wasn’t on Ellie anymore. It was on Joel. His hand was still resting on your belly, and he hadn’t moved. You could see the tension in his face, the way he was trying to hold it together for both of you. He needed to rest, to let himself break for just a moment, but you knew how hard that was for him. How much he felt like everything was on his shoulders.

"Joel," you said quietly, almost more gently than you intended. His name felt different on your tongue, like it wasn’t really you speaking.

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still locked on your belly. You took his hand and slowly lifted it away, placing it in his lap. He blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and finally looked at you. The weariness in his face was undeniable now, and you could see the cracks in the facade he always tried so hard to keep in place.

“You need to rest,” you said, your voice soft but firm, with an edge that wasn’t quite your usual tone. It was more insistent, more like a command than a request. You weren’t just asking him to take a break—you were telling him.

Joel’s brows furrowed, his lips parting slightly as if to protest, but you cut him off before he could speak.

“I mean it,” you added, surprising even yourself with the intensity of your words. “You’re not going to help anyone if you collapse, Joel. We can’t keep going like this.”

His mouth closed, his eyes searching your face as if trying to figure out what to say, how to argue with you without pushing too hard. But he couldn’t. Not this time. Not with the way you were looking at him, with that mix of worry and determination that left no room for debate.

Ellie, sensing the shift in tone, stayed quiet, glancing between the two of you. For once, she didn’t throw in a sarcastic comment. She just waited, watching the fire crackle and listening to the tension settle around you.

Joel let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging as the fight drained out of him. He nodded, though it seemed reluctant, like he still couldn’t fully let go of the idea that he had to be the one holding it all together.

“Alright,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “Just for a bit.”

You exhaled, relieved, but you still held his gaze, making sure he understood. “It’s not just for us, Joel. It’s for you too. You need this.”

He nodded again, and this time, it seemed a little more genuine. “Yeah… I know,” he whispered, his voice raw with exhaustion.

Ellie glanced up, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Finally,” she muttered under her breath, though there was no bite in her words this time.

As Joel shifted to find a more comfortable position, he laid his head against your lap, his face pressing gently against your belly. The closeness of him, the warmth of his body leaning into yours, made something inside you tighten—an emotion you couldn’t quite name but one you understood all too well. His breaths slowed as the exhaustion finally caught up to him, his body surrendering to the rest he so desperately needed.

Your hand moved on its own, fingers threading through his hair, then brushing down to caress the rough stubble on his face. The small gesture felt both intimate and protective, like you were guarding him for once, in the only way you could. His face softened in his sleep, the tension that had etched itself into his features over the last few days easing away.

Ellie, watching the scene unfold, stifled a quiet chuckle. "Well, that’s a sight," she whispered, shaking her head with a faint smile. “Didn’t think I’d ever see Joel like this.”

You gave her a soft, knowing smile, your hand never leaving Joel’s face. “Yeah, me neither,” you whispered back. The fire crackled between you, casting soft shadows on the cave walls. For the first time in what felt like forever, it was you and Ellie staying awake, the weight of the night’s silence shared between the two of you instead of Joel.

Ellie stretched out her legs, staring into the flames. “So... how’s it feel?” she asked, her voice low as if she didn’t want to disturb Joel. “Y’know, the baby. It’s kinda crazy to think that in the middle of all this... you’re growing a person.”

You let out a quiet laugh, glancing down at Joel’s sleeping form, then at your belly. “Yeah... it’s crazy,” you admitted, your voice soft but filled with a quiet wonder. “But it feels... right, somehow. Like maybe this is the one good thing left in the world.”

Ellie nodded thoughtfully; her gaze still locked on the fire. “Guess we all need something good to fight for.”

Silence settled over you both, the crackling of the fire the only sound as the night stretched on. The cave was cold, but there was a warmth in this moment, a quiet bond growing between you and Ellie as Joel slept soundly against you.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like you had a moment to breathe and be still. And in that stillness, with Joel safe and Ellie by your side, you allowed yourself to hope, just for a little while, that maybe everything would be okay.

December 10th

We made it to Jackson today. It’s hard to believe after everything, but we’re finally here. We’re safe… but something doesn’t feel right.

Tommy was so happy to see us. To see Joel. I saw it in his eyes, the relief of having his brother back. And when he looked at my belly, he was surprised, of course, but happy. Even Maria, his wife is pregnant too. She seemed genuinely excited for us, for what this means. But Joel... Joel didn’t react the way I thought he would.

I’ve seen him handle danger, grief, and loss; nothing seemed to break him. But today, when Tommy told the news when Maria shared her news, I could see something change in Joel. He didn’t smile, didn’t share in the moment like I hoped he would. Instead, he shut down. And it hurts. It hurts to think that maybe he’s not ready for this, for us. Maybe he’s scared, maybe it’s just too much. I don’t know, but it’s like I’m carrying this alone.

I’m scared too. But I want this baby. I want us to be a family. And I thought… I thought Joel did too.

He’s with Tommy now, catching up after a long time or at least pretending to. I can feel something shifted, the distance between us growing, even though we’re finally somewhere safe. What if Jackson doesn’t fix this? What if the problem isn’t out there, but here between us?

You set the pen down and closed the journal, feeling the weight of the words settling into your heart. You glanced over at the new clothes Maria had left for you in the bed.

As you dressed in the clean, comfortable clothes Maria had left, the familiar weight of worry crept back in. The thoughts of the QZ and everything you’d been through tugged at the edges of your mind, but you pushed them aside, determined to move forward and focus on this new chapter in Jackson. This was supposed to be a fresh start. You were determined to make it feel that way.

The cold air outside hit you as you stepped out of the house, but it was fresh, invigorating. You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself and began walking through the quiet streets of Jackson, hoping that a bit of solitude would clear your head. But as you passed by one of the larger buildings in the town, you heard voices, low but familiar.

Joel and Tommy were inside.

You hesitated by the window, not meaning to eavesdrop, but you couldn’t help yourself. The tension in Joel had been building all day, and Tommy’s words floated out into the cold air.

“I thought you’d be happy for me, Joel,” Tommy said, his voice carrying a mix of frustration and concern. “I’m going to be a father. Can you believe that? I thought—hell, I thought you’d understand more than anyone.”

There was a long pause before Joel responded, and you could practically feel the weight of what was about to come.

“I don’t know if I want to be a father again,” Joel said, his voice low, almost too quiet to hear. It wasn’t a confession so much as an admission, like it was something he hadn’t even allowed himself to think about until now. “Tommy… it’s different this time.”

“You’ve got someone, Joel. She’s—she’s carrying your kid. That’s not something you just walk away from,” Tommy replied, clearly trying to keep his patience. “You don’t get to be scared and check out now. That’s not you. At least, that’s not the brother I know.”

“I know that,” Joel said, but there was a tremor in his voice that betrayed him. “But I’ve been through this before. And it didn’t end well. What if I can’t do it again? What if I can’t protect them?”

Tommy’s voice softened. “You’re not the same man you were back then. And you’ve got people now. You’re not alone in this, Joel. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

Another silence followed, and you found yourself holding your breath, waiting for Joel to say something—anything—that would give you an idea of what he was feeling. But when he spoke again, his voice was strained, full of conflict.

“I want to be there for them. I do. But I don’t know how to be a father anymore. After Sarah... it feels like too much.”

Hearing him say her name, his late daughter, hit you like a punch to the gut. You hadn’t heard Joel talk about Sarah much, but you knew how deeply her loss had affected him. The silence that followed was thick with emotion, as if Tommy was waiting for his brother to find the words he was searching for.

“Then learn, Joel,” Tommy finally said, his tone soft but firm. “You can still be a father. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be you trying.”

You could hear the clink of glasses as Tommy poured them both a drink. Joel didn’t respond right away, and you took that as your cue to move away from the window, giving them the space they needed.

As you walked away from the window, your thoughts swirling with everything you’d just overheard, you almost didn’t notice Maria approaching from down the street. Her footsteps were quiet on the dirt path, and by the time you spotted her, she was already close enough to call your name.

“Hey,” Maria greeted softly, her eyes warm but cautious. She seemed to sense the heaviness on your shoulders. “I was just coming by to check on you. How’re you settling in?”

You managed a small smile, though the weight of what you’d overheard lingered in your chest. “It’s... good. It’s a lot to take in, but it’s good here.”

Maria studied your face for a moment, as if she could see the mix of emotions brewing beneath the surface. She gave a small nod, choosing not to press. Instead, she shifted the conversation to something else. “I wanted to let you know, we’ve got an ultrasound machine here in town. It’s old, but it works. If you want, we could take a look at the baby, make sure everything’s okay.”

Her offer took you by surprise, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. The thought of seeing the baby—of actually hearing its heartbeat, seeing it move—was both exciting and terrifying. You hadn’t had the chance for anything like this since leaving the QZ, and the opportunity stirred a mixture of emotions you hadn’t quite prepared for.

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, glancing down at your belly.

Maria smiled gently, her understanding clear. “I get it. It can be overwhelming, especially with everything you’ve been through. But maybe it’ll help. You were out there for so long, it wouldn’t be bad give it a check.

You hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Yeah, maybe. I think I’d like that.”

“Good,” Maria said, her smile growing. “Okay, let’s go”

“What now?” you asked, surprised and afraid, there was a strange feeling on your heart at the thought of seeing your baby for the first time.

Maria chuckled softly, sensing your hesitation. “No time like the present,” she said, her voice calm and reassuring. “I know it’s a lot, but you’ve been through worse. This is something good, something for you. And for the baby.”

You felt a flutter of nerves as the reality of it hit you—the idea of seeing the baby, confirming its presence in a way that was more than just kicks and feelings. It was a lot to take in, and your heart raced at the thought.

“But... what if something’s wrong?” you blurted out, your voice quieter than you intended. It was a fear you hadn’t allowed yourself to voice until now, but it was there, gnawing at the back of your mind.

Maria’s expression softened even more. “That’s exactly why we check. If something’s wrong, we’ll know, and we’ll take care of it. But listen, you’ve come this far. You’re strong, and so is your baby.” She placed a gentle hand on your arm, grounding you. “You’re not alone anymore, okay?”

Her words gave you a sense of comfort you hadn’t realized you needed. You took a deep breath and nodded, more firmly this time. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Maria smiled again, “Do you want to find Joel first?” she asked

But you thought about his words, and said no.

You shook your head, the memory of Joel's hesitant confession weighing on your mind. "No," you said quietly, but with conviction. "Not right now."

Maria studied your face for a moment, her expression thoughtful but understanding. She didn’t push, simply nodded. "Alright," she said gently. "This is your moment, then. Just you and the baby."

You appreciated her respect for your choice. As much as you wanted Joel to be there, to share this experience with you, part of you knew he wasn’t ready. He needed time to sort through his own fears, and you needed this moment to yourself, to connect with the life growing inside you without the burden of anyone else's emotions.

“Let’s go,” you said, your voice firmer now, a strange mix of nerves and excitement bubbling up inside you.

Maria led the way back toward the clinic, with Ellie joining you both, the air cool and crisp as you walked through the quiet streets of Jackson. Inside, the warmth of the room wrapped around you, soothing some of your tension. As you lay back on the table, ready to see your baby for the first time, you felt a flicker of hope, a hope that despite everything, you and this little life inside you could make it.

The door creaked open, and the doctor stepped in. He was tall, with tousled brown hair and kind eyes that immediately locked onto yours. There was a brief pause as he stood in the doorway, his expression shifting from professionalism to something softer, almost as if he were momentarily caught off guard.

"Hi, I’m Dr. Paul..." he trailed off, his gaze lingering on you just a second too long before he quickly composed himself, stepping further into the room. "Paul Mesner," he added, clearing his throat, his tone now more formal, though there was a warmth in it that you couldn’t quite place.

You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, unsure of the sudden tension that filled the small room. It wasn’t overwhelming, but you could feel something shift in the air, as though Paul had felt something the moment he laid eyes on you.

Maria, standing by your side, glanced between the two of you, raising an eyebrow but choosing not to comment.

As you lay back on the examination table, the soft hum of the ultrasound machine filled the room. Maria stood nearby, and Ellie sat on a chair in the corner, her legs bouncing restlessly. Paul prepared the equipment, his movements efficient but gentle.

Ellie glanced around nervously, trying to act cool, but you could see the curiosity and excitement in her eyes. “So… this is where we get to see the little peanut?” she asked, her voice trying to mask her eagerness.

You smiled at her, feeling a sense of comfort that she was here. “Yeah, Ellie. This is where we’ll see the baby.”

When Paul applied the gel to your belly, Ellie’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t say anything, her attention fully focused on the screen. As the image flickered to life, the small form of the baby appeared, its heartbeat strong and steady. The room seemed to hold its breath.

He guided you through the process, explaining each step, though his voice was gentle, almost reverent. As the cold gel touched your skin and the machine came to life, Paul’s eyes never strayed far from yours. When he finally looked at the screen, the image of your baby appeared, and so it’s heart beating that filled the silence of the room.

“There it is,” Paul said softly, the awe clear in his voice. He glanced at you with that same warmth, but your focus was entirely on the screen. But when he looked at you again, there was something undeniably personal in his eyes, like you were the only person in the room.

Ellie leaned forward; her face lit up with wonder. “Holy shit… that’s… that’s the baby?”

You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from the tiny form. “Yeah, that’s the baby.”

Ellie’s gaze flickered from the screen to you, then back again. “That’s… insane. It’s real,” she whispered, her usual bravado melting away in the face of something she couldn’t joke about.

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at the tiny image on the screen, tears welling in your eyes.

As you stared at the tiny, flickering heartbeat on the screen, a rush of emotions overwhelmed you. Tears blurred your vision, but you couldn’t look away from the image. It was real—your baby, alive and growing inside of you. The room was quiet, except for the steady thrum of the baby’s heartbeat echoing in the air, a soft, rhythmic reminder that you were carrying a new life.

“Ellie,” you whispered, looking at her, “you’re going to be part of this too. You’re family.”

Ellie blinked, clearly moved by your words, though she quickly masked it with a grin. “Thank you” she said, smiling down at you.

Paul’s gentle voice brought you back, and when you glanced up at him, he was still looking at you, his eyes filled with something more than just professional care. It was warmth, empathy... maybe something else.

"You’re doing really well," he said again, his voice barely above a whisper, as though he didn’t want to break the delicate atmosphere of the moment.

You smiled weakly, feeling the tears spill over, but you quickly wiped them away. "I wasn’t sure what to expect," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "But hearing the heartbeat... it’s incredible."

Paul nodded, his gaze still steady on you, his expression soft. "It’s a moment that changes everything," he said, his voice full of sincerity. "You’ll remember this for the rest of your life."

His words settled over you like a blanket of reassurance, and for the first time since you had arrived in Jackson, you felt a small sense of peace. There was still so much uncertainty ahead, but in this moment, everything felt possible.

Maria, who had been standing quietly off to the side, finally broke the silence. "It’s beautiful, isn’t it?" she said, her voice filled with genuine warmth. She walked over to you and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You’ve been through so much, but you’re going to be okay here."

You nodded, grateful for the support. But your thoughts drifted back to Joel, to the conversation you had overheard between him and Tommy. You couldn’t help but wonder how he would react when he saw this—when he heard the heartbeat and realized what was truly at stake.

But for now, you allowed yourself to just be in the moment, surrounded by the quiet reassurance of Maria’s words and Paul’s steady presence.

"Thank you," you whispered, meeting Paul’s eyes again.

He smiled, the corners of his mouth tugging upward just slightly. "Anytime," he said softly, and for a moment, it felt like he wasn’t just talking about the ultrasound.

As you, Ellie and Maria gathered your things and prepared to leave the small room, you felt Paul’s eyes lingering on you, even as you reached for the door. His gaze was soft, but intense, as if he couldn’t tear himself away. It left a strange flutter in your chest, a mix of emotions you weren’t ready to unpack.

“Thanks, Paul” you said, honestly, smiling at him.

Maria, standing by your side, must have noticed too. When you touched the door handle, ready to step out, she placed a gentle hand on your arm. “Wait for me outside,” she said, her voice calm but firm.

You hesitated, glancing between her and Paul, but then nodded, stepping out into the cool air of the hallway. As the door clicked shut behind you, a strange tension filled the room you had just left.

Inside, Maria turned to Paul, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. His gaze had been a little too fixated on you, and Maria’s protective instincts kicked in immediately.

"Paul," she began, her voice quiet but filled with a clear warning. "Don’t ever think about it."

Paul blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Maria took a step closer, her expression hardening. "I saw the way you were looking at her. But you need to understand something—she’s not here alone. The baby’s father is here in Jackson."

Paul’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, though he quickly tried to mask it. "I wasn’t—" he started, but Maria cut him off.

"Tommy’s brother," she said, her voice low and steady. "That’s the father. And trust me, you don’t want to get involved in that kind of situation."

Paul looked taken aback, the realization sinking in. He glanced down, his expression shifting as the weight of her words hit him. "I didn’t mean any disrespect, Maria," he said quietly, his tone more subdued now. "I just—"

"I know you didn’t," she replied, softening just a bit. "But I’m telling you now, for your own sake. Stay professional. Keep it that way."

Paul nodded, the intensity in his gaze dimming, replaced by something more resigned. "Understood," he muttered, his voice low.

Maria gave him a long, measured look before turning to leave. As she opened the door, she glanced back one last time, as if to reinforce her message. Then, without another word, she stepped outside to join you.

You and Ellie were waiting just outside, leaning against the wall, lost in thought. When Maria emerged, she gave you a small, reassuring smile.

"Ready to head back?" she asked, her tone light, as if the conversation inside had never happened.

You nodded, pushing yourself off the wall.

The makeshift theater was packed with people from the community, the flickering light from the old projector casting shadows on the walls. It felt surreal, sitting there with everyone, watching a movie like things were normal. For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to sink into that illusion—into the laughter, the shared smiles, the warmth of the crowd around you.

But then you saw Joel, after missing him for the whole day.

He was sitting a few rows ahead, his posture tense, eyes focused on the screen but not really watching. You’d been keeping an eye on him ever since you got there, sensing the turmoil still brewing beneath the surface. As the movie played on, Joel stood quietly and slipped out of the room, unnoticed by most. Except for you.

Something stirred in your chest, a familiar pull that you couldn’t ignore. You glanced around, checking if anyone else noticed, but everyone was still absorbed in the film. Quietly, you stood and followed him out, slipping through the door into the cold night air.

The streets of Jackson were quiet, the sound of the movie muffled behind you as you walked. You could see Joel ahead, his figure silhouetted against the dim streetlights. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his steps slow, like he wasn’t sure where he was going, just that he needed to get away.

“Joel,” you called softly, your voice breaking the silence.

He stopped but didn’t turn around immediately. You quickened your pace, coming up beside him. When you reached him, he finally looked at you, his expression a mix of exhaustion and something deeper—something you couldn’t quite place.

"You okay?" you asked gently, though you already knew the answer.

Joel let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping as if the weight he’d been carrying all night had become too much. "Just needed some air," he muttered, his voice rough, but not unkind.

You fell into step beside him, walking in silence for a while, letting the quiet between you settle. You knew Joel wasn’t one to open up easily, and you didn’t want to push him. But you couldn’t just leave him to his thoughts, not when you knew he was struggling.

"Talk to me, Joel," you said softly. "What’s going on?"

He was silent for a moment, his jaw tightening as he tried to find the right words. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know if I can do this."

Your heart tightened at his words. "Do what?"

"All of it," he said, his voice strained. "Being here... with you, the baby. It feels like I’m tryin’ to fit into somethin’ I don’t deserve. I don’t know how to be this person anymore."

You stopped walking, turning to face him, the moonlight casting shadows across his face. "Joel, you don’t have to have it all figured out. None of us do."

He shook his head, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I want to be there for you, for the baby, but I don’t know if I can protect you. I’m scared I’ll fail again."

The mention of his past failures cut deep, and you could see the ghosts of his memories haunting him. Sarah. The QZ. Every person he couldn’t save.

"You won’t fail," you said firmly, stepping closer, placing a hand on his arm. “I saw the baby today” you said with a tiny smile appearing.

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, a hint of surprise breaking through the heaviness that surrounded him. "What do you mean, you saw the baby?" he asked, the tension in his voice softening just a fraction.

You took a breath, feeling warmth spread through you at the memory. "Maria took me for an ultrasound. It was… incredible. I felt the heartbeat, Joel. It’s real. There’s a little life in there."

A mixture of emotions crossed his face, curiosity, wonder, and a flicker of fear. "And? What was it like?"

You smiled wider now, unable to contain the joy bubbling within you. "It was amazing. The little form on the screen, just... there. It made everything feel more possible, like maybe we really could do this."

For a moment, Joel’s expression softened, and you could see the flicker of hope behind his eyes. "That’s… good," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, almost as if he was afraid to believe it.

"It is," you reassured him, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between you. "And you’re going to be a part of that, Joel. You’re not just the protector; you’ll be a father. And I know it’s scary, but it’s also something to live for."

He looked down, his brow furrowing as he processed your words. "You really think so?"

"I know so," you said, reaching up to cup his face again, letting your thumb brush gently across his cheek. "You’re already so protective of us, and that matters more than you realize. You’ll figure it out as we go along."

As you stood there, the world around you faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in that intimate moment. Something in Joel shifted, the walls he had built around his heart starting to crumble. You could see the conflict within him, fear battling against a yearning to embrace this new reality.

With a gentle tug on his shirt, you pulled him closer, your heart racing in anticipation. "Trust me," you whispered, your eyes locking onto his.

And then, without overthinking it, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his. The kiss was tentative at first, a mingling of uncertainty and hope. But as he responded, deepening the kiss, you felt a wave of warmth wash over you, as if the two of you were forging a new bond amidst the chaos.

His hands found your waist, holding you close, and for those brief moments, it felt like everything else faded away, your fears, the weight of the past, the uncertain future. It was just you and him, sharing something genuine and profound.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested against each other, both of you breathing heavily, the world outside momentarily forgotten. The flicker of fear in his eyes had shifted to something softer, more determined.

"You really mean it," he said, his voice rough but filled with newfound conviction.

"I do," you replied, smiling up at him. "We’re in this together, Joel. No matter what."

He nodded, a faint smile breaking through the weight he had been carrying.

As the warmth of the moment lingered, Joel’s hands moved gently to your belly, resting there as if he were trying to connect with the little life growing inside you. His expression softened, and a protective instinct shone in his eyes.

“Get some rest,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You’ve been through a lot today. We both have.”

You nodded, appreciating the concern in his tone. “I will. But I want you to come back soon, okay?”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I will. Just need a minute to clear my head.”

With a lingering touch, he pulled his hands away, and you felt a strange mix of warmth and longing as he stepped back. “I’ll see you in a bit,” he promised, his gaze still fixed on you, as if he were memorizing every detail.

You turned, feeling lighter, ready to head back inside and allow yourself the rest you needed. As you walked away, you glanced over your shoulder one last time, catching his eye. The connection between you remained palpable, and you knew that this was just the beginning of something profound.

As you stepped back into the house, the warmth hit you immediately, chasing away the cool night air. Ellie was sprawled on the couch, flipping through a book she'd found earlier, her legs crossed as she absentmindedly skimmed the pages.

She looked up as you entered, her face softening into a lopsided grin. "You okay?" she asked, her tone casual, but you could hear the concern behind it.

You nodded, sitting down beside her. "Yeah. Just needed to talk with Joel for a bit."

Ellie studied your face, her eyes sharp. "And? Everything good?"

You smiled gently, trying to reassure her. "It will be. We’re figuring things out, one step at a time." You hesitated for a moment before continuing, "You know, we could be a family here. You, me, Joel… and the baby."

Ellie blinked, her usual tough exterior cracking just a bit. She let out a breath, leaning back against the couch. "A family, huh?" she muttered, her voice almost too soft for her usual snark. "Never really had one of those."

"You do now," you said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It’s not perfect. None of this is. But we’re all in this together."

Ellie let the words sink in, her eyes drifting toward the window as if trying to imagine what a life here could be. "Guess I could stick around," she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Teach the kid how to shoot and stuff."

You chuckled softly.

+++++++++++++

Meanwhile, on the other side of the community, Joel sat at the bar with Tommy, the weight of his emotions too much to bear any longer. He stared down at the whiskey in his hand, his knuckles white from gripping the glass too hard.

"Tommy…" Joel’s voice was low, broken, as if the words were being pulled from some deep, hidden place. "I need you to do something for me."

Tommy frowned, concern flickering across his face. "What is it?"

Joel swallowed hard; his throat tight. His eyes were red, the strain of the day finally catching up with him. "I need you to take Ellie to the Fireflies."

Tommy blinked; his confusion clear. "What? Joel, -“

"She’s immune” Joel cut him off, his voice cracking as tears welled up in his eyes. "But I can’t do it I can’t take her.  I don’t have the heart to leave my woman behind.”

Tommy’s gaze softened, understanding dawning on him. "You mean…"

"She’s pregnant, Tommy. I can’t take her with us. I can’t risk her life or the baby’s. And I can’t just leave them behind, not after everything." Joel’s voice wavered, his hands shaking as he finally let the tears fall, his tough exterior crumbling. "I thought I could do it… thought I could keep everyone safe, but I’m just not strong enough.”

Tommy leaned forward, his expression torn between concern and disbelief. "Joel, you don’t have to do this alone. You’ve got people here. You’ve got me."

Joel shook his head, wiping at his eyes. "Ellie needs to get to the Fireflies, for the cure. It’s what she’s meant for. But I can’t go, not with the baby coming. I need you to do this for me, Tommy. Please."

Tommy was silent for a long time, his heart breaking for his brother. "Joel… are you sure?"

Joel’s shoulders slumped as he nodded, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. "I don’t want to lose her, but I can’t lose them either. I can’t make this choice."

Tommy sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. "Alright," he finally said, his voice thick with emotion. "I’ll take Ellie. But, Joel...”

Joel took a shaky breath, his hands trembling as he gripped the edge of the bar. “It’s not just Ellie, Tommy. It’s me too.” His voice cracked, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself be vulnerable. “I’ve been having these panic attacks. Can’t breathe, can’t think straight. I… I haven’t felt this way since… since Sarah.”

Tommy's eyes widened, a mixture of shock and concern flooding his expression. "Joel…"

“I try to hold it together, but I’m falling apart, man. And I don’t know how to stop it,” Joel confessed, his voice breaking. “I’ll be out there, trying to protect her, trying to protect all of us, and suddenly it hits me — like a damn freight train. My chest tightens, my heart races, and I feel like… like I’m losing control.”

Tommy was silent for a moment, letting the weight of Joel’s words sink in. He'd seen his brother take on the world, survive impossible situations, but this was different. This was something Joel couldn’t fight with his fists or a gun.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Joel whispered, running a hand through his hair. "I'm scared all the time, Tommy. Scared that I’ll mess it up. That I’ll lose Ellie. That I’ll lose..." He faltered, swallowing hard. “That I’ll lose them both.”

Tommy stepped closer; his voice gentle but firm. “You don’t have to carry this alone, Joel. You never did. It’s okay to feel this way, man. No one expects you to be invincible.”

Joel let out a bitter laugh, though there was no humor in it. “But that’s what I’ve always had to be, ain’t it? The strong one. The protector. I don’t know how to be anything else.”

“You’ve been protecting people your whole damn life,” Tommy said, his tone filled with empathy. “But now… now it’s time to let people protect you too.”

Joel’s eyes were red, his jaw tight as he fought the urge to break down. “I don’t know if I can do this without her. Without them.”

“You don’t have to,” Tommy said quietly. “But I’ll take Ellie to the Fireflies. I promise I’ll keep her safe. You take care of yourself, Joel. Take care of the family you’re building here. You’ve earned that.”

Joel nodded; his heart heavy but grateful for Tommy’s understanding. He still felt the crushing weight of his fears, but for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel completely alone. Tommy was there. Ellie was there. You were there. And soon, there would be a baby who needed him too.

But still, his tears silently fell as he tried to hold himself together. This was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, and it tore him apart inside. But he knew it was the only way to protect the people he loved. Even if it meant letting go.

+++++++++++++

You sat on the couch with Ellie, the warmth of the fire crackling in the fireplace nearby, casting a soft glow across the room. Ellie was watching the flames, her mind elsewhere, while you found yourself glancing down at your belly again, thinking about everything that was changing, everything that was coming.

“Ellie,” you began softly, breaking the comfortable silence between you. She turned her head slightly, her expression expectant. “I’ve been thinking… Would you wait until after the baby is born to go to the Fireflies? Just a little longer?”

Ellie’s brow furrowed slightly, as if the idea weighed heavily on her. She didn’t answer right away, and you could see the internal struggle flicker in her eyes.

“I know you want to help,” you continued, your voice gentle. “I know you want to be the cure, to make a difference. But… it’s dangerous out there. And I don’t want to lose you.”

Ellie shifted uncomfortably, pulling her knees up to her chest as she stared down at the floor. “It’s not about me, though,” she said, her voice low but steady. “I get it, you want me to stay, but the cure... it could give the baby a better future. It could give everyone a better future. And I can’t just sit here while I have the chance to do that.”

Her words struck you deep, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for wanting her to stay, to keep her close, to keep her safe. But Ellie had always been selfless, always thinking of others, always wanting to make things better.

You sighed, resting a hand on your belly as the weight of her words sank in. “I just want you to be safe, Ellie. You mean a lot to all of us. And I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Ellie smiled faintly, though her expression was filled with understanding. “I know. But… if I can do something to stop all of this, the infection, the danger, then the baby… they won’t have to grow up like this. They could have a real life, without the constant fear of what’s out there.”

The thought of that future, one where the baby didn’t have to face the same horrors that you and Ellie had, made your heart ache. She was right, and that was what made it so hard.

Ellie noticed the worry lines forming on your forehead and reached over, giving your arm a gentle nudge. “Hey,” she said, her voice softening, “don’t stress yourself out. You’ve got enough to think about. Go and rest. You need to take care of yourself, and the peanut.”

You offered her a tired smile, appreciating the concern in her tone. “You sound like Joel.”

Ellie smirked. “Guess he’s rubbing off on me.”

You laughed softly, but the weight of the conversation still hung in the air. “Just… promise me you’ll think about it, Ellie. Please.”

Ellie met your gaze, her eyes serious. “I’ll think about it,” she said, and though you knew her mind was made up, her words gave you a small sense of comfort.

With that, you slowly stood, feeling the fatigue settle into your bones. Ellie watched you with a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Go rest, Mom-to-be,” she teased. “I’ll be here.”

You chuckled softly, grateful for the lightness she brought to the moment. “Alright, alright. I’m going. Good night, Ellie.”

“Good night” she replied, smiling as you entered the bedroom.

Joel stood outside for what felt like an eternity, staring into the darkness, weighed down by the decision he had made. He knew it was the right thing to do, but it didn’t make it any easier. The thought of sending Ellie away with Tommy gnawed at him, the fear of losing her or failing her again tightening around his chest like a vice.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he walked back into the house, his footsteps slow and hesitant. The place was quiet, a stillness that only made the ache in his heart more pronounced. He stopped by the door to your bedroom, hearing the soft rhythm of your breathing. You were resting, just like you needed to be.

But there was another conversation he couldn’t avoid.

Joel walked down the hall to Ellie’s room. The door was slightly ajar, and he could see her sitting on the edge of her bed, lost in her own thoughts. She turned her head when she noticed him, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“What’s up?” she asked, trying to keep her tone casual, but there was an edge to her voice that Joel couldn’t ignore.

Joel hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. He couldn’t meet her gaze right away. “Ellie, we need to talk,” he said, his voice low and thick with the weight of his words.

She sat up straighter, sensing that something was wrong. “What is it? What happened?”

Joel rubbed a hand over his face, trying to find the right words, but all that came out was, “Tommy’s taking you to the Fireflies.”

The room fell into a tense silence, Ellie’s eyes widening in shock before narrowing in anger. “What? No,” she said, her voice rising. “You’re supposed to take me. That was the plan!”

“I can’t,” Joel replied, his voice breaking just slightly as he tried to keep his composure. “I can’t leave them behind. Not with the baby coming.”

“Are you kidding me?” Ellie snapped, standing up now, her fists clenched at her sides. “You’re just gonna pass me off to Tommy like I’m some burden? What the hell, Joel?”

“It’s not like that,” Joel said, shaking his head, but the guilt was already eating at him. “I’m trying to protect you.”

Ellie scoffed, her frustration boiling over. “Protect me? you’re just okay with sending me away? Why can’t you take me?”

Joel took a deep breath, the panic rising inside him. “Ellie, I’ve been having these panic attacks,” he admitted, his voice shaking. “I can’t—I’m not strong enough anymore. I can’t do it. I can’t protect you the way I need to, not with all of this happening. I don’t want to fail you.”

Ellie’s anger wavered for a moment, her eyes searching his face. “Joel…,” she said, her voice softer now. “You’re not gonna fail me. You never have.”

“I already have,” Joel whispered, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Too many times. I couldn’t save Sarah. I couldn’t stop Tess from getting hurt. I won’t let you get hurt too, Ellie. And I can’t leave them—her, the baby—behind. I just can’t.”

Ellie’s face softened, but the frustration was still there. “Joel, I don’t want Tommy to take me. I want you. We’ve been through all of this together. It’s you and me. You don’t get to just hand me off when it gets hard.”

Joel’s eyes were wet now, the emotions too much to hold back. “I’m trying to keep you safe, Ellie. That’s all I want.”

Joel stood outside for what felt like an eternity, staring into the darkness, weighed down by the decision he had made. He knew it was the right thing to do, but it didn’t make it any easier. The thought of sending Ellie away with Tommy gnawed at him, the fear of losing her or failing her again tightening around his chest like a vice.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he walked back into the house, his footsteps slow and hesitant. The place was quiet, a stillness that only made the ache in his heart more pronounced. He stopped by the door to your bedroom, hearing the soft rhythm of your breathing. You were resting, just like you needed to be.

But there was another conversation he couldn’t avoid.

Joel walked down the hall to Ellie’s room. The door was slightly ajar, and he could see her sitting on the edge of her bed, lost in her own thoughts. She turned her head when she noticed him, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“What’s up?” she asked, trying to keep her tone casual, but there was an edge to her voice that Joel couldn’t ignore.

Joel hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. He couldn’t meet her gaze right away. “Ellie, we need to talk,” he said, his voice low and thick with the weight of his words.

She sat up straighter, sensing that something was wrong. “What is it? What happened?”

Joel rubbed a hand over his face, trying to find the right words, but all that came out was, “Tommy’s taking you to the Fireflies.”

The room fell into a tense silence, Ellie’s eyes widening in shock before narrowing in anger. “What? No,” she said, her voice rising. “You’re supposed to take me. That was the plan!”

“I can’t,” Joel replied, his voice breaking just slightly as he tried to keep his composure. “I can’t leave them behind. Not with the baby coming.”

“Are you kidding me?” Ellie snapped, standing up now, her fists clenched at her sides. “You’re just gonna pass me off to Tommy like I’m some burden? What the hell, Joel?”

“It’s not like that,” Joel said, shaking his head, but the guilt was already eating at him. “I’m trying to protect you.”

Ellie scoffed, her frustration boiling over. “Protect me? I thought you didn’t want me to go at all, and now you’re just okay with sending me away? Why can’t you take me?”

Joel took a deep breath, the panic rising inside him. “Ellie, I’ve been having these panic attacks,” he admitted, his voice shaking. “I can’t—I’m not strong enough anymore. I can’t do it. I can’t protect you the way I need to, not with all of this happening. I don’t want to fail you.”

Ellie’s anger wavered for a moment, her eyes searching his face. “Joel…,” she said, her voice softer now. “You’re not gonna fail me. You never have.”

“I already have,” Joel whispered, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Too many times. I couldn’t save Sarah. I couldn’t stop Tess from getting hurt. I won’t let you get hurt too, Ellie. And I can’t leave them—her, the baby—behind. I just can’t.”

Ellie’s face softened, but the frustration was still there. “Joel, I don’t want Tommy to take me. I want you. We’ve been through all of this together. It’s you and me. You don’t get to just hand me off when it gets hard.”

Joel’s eyes were wet now, the emotions too much to hold back. “I’m trying to keep you safe, Ellie. That’s all I want.”

“I know,” she said, her voice wavering. “But you’re all I’ve got. You can’t just let me go like that.”

They stood there in the quiet room, both of them battling their own fears and emotions. Joel wiped at his eyes, trying to collect himself.

“I’m not abandoning you,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I can’t make this choice. I can’t risk losing all of you. Tommy… he’s strong. He’ll get you there.”

Ellie shook her head, frustration flashing across her face. “You’re not listening. I don’t want Tommy to take me—I want you.”

Joel looked at her, his heart twisting. He hated this, hated that he was letting her down. “Ellie... I’m not your father,” he said, his voice cracking with the weight of the admission. He had never said it out loud like this, and it hit him as hard as it hit her.

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Ellie looked like she’d been slapped. Her face hardened, jaw clenched. “Well,” she started, her voice sharp and bitter, “your girlfriend told me we could be a family.” She glared at him, daring him to contradict her.

Joel winced. The truth of it stung, the possibility of a family he didn’t feel worthy of. “I know,” he murmured, struggling to find the right thing to say. “But Ellie, that doesn’t mean I can risk everything—risk you—for a chance at something that might never come.”

Ellie shook her head, her eyes filling with tears she refused to let fall. “You don’t get it, do you?” she whispered. “I don’t want a family that leaves me behind when things get tough. I don’t want Tommy, or anyone else. I just want you.”

Joel’s heart shattered at her words. He saw the hurt, the fear of abandonment in her eyes, and it crushed him. He stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off.

“Ellie, please...” Joel started, but she cut him off, her voice trembling with emotion.

“No, Joel. You don’t get to decide what’s best for me without even asking me what I want. We’ve been through too much for that. And now, just when we could finally be something—be a family—you’re pushing me away.”

“I’m trying to keep you safe,” Joel repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“And what if I don’t want safe?” Ellie shot back, her voice shaking with frustration. “What if I want you?”

Joel swallowed hard, unable to find the words to answer her. He had spent so long keeping her at arm’s length, convincing himself that it was for her own good. But now, standing here, watching her fight to stay close to him, he realized how much he needed her too. How much she had become a part of his life, of him.

Joel’s jaw clenched, the weight of everything pressing down on him. He didn’t want to hurt Ellie, didn’t want to push her away, but he felt trapped. Torn between protecting her and staying with the new life that was growing inside you. He took a deep breath, his voice low and firm, but his heart breaking as he spoke.

“That’s final, Ellie,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’ll go with Tommy.”

The words seemed to echo in the room, heavy and irreversible. Ellie’s face crumpled in disbelief, anger flashing through her eyes, but before she could respond, Joel turned and walked out, the ache in his chest almost unbearable.

He moved through the quiet house, his footsteps heavy, his heart even heavier. His mind raced with guilt, fear, and uncertainty. He didn’t want to lose Ellie, but he also couldn’t leave you behind, not with the baby on the way. He just couldn’t.

As he reached the bedroom where you were sleeping, he paused in the doorway. The soft sound of your steady breathing filled the room, offering a strange kind of peace amidst the chaos swirling inside him. Joel leaned against the doorframe, his eyes fixed on your sleeping form, wondering how everything had become so complicated.

He stepped inside, moving quietly so as not to wake you. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he ran a hand through his hair, staring down at his hands as if the answers to his problems might appear there. The weight of his decision pressed down on him, and for the first time in a long while, Joel felt truly lost.

You stirred in your sleep, sensing his presence. Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light in the room. Seeing Joel sitting there, shoulders slumped, staring down at his hands, you felt a surge of concern wash over you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly, your voice groggy from sleep but laced with worry.

Joel flinched slightly, as if he hadn’t expected you to wake up. He shook his head, his eyes not meeting yours. “Nothin’,” he muttered, his voice quiet and strained. “Go back to sleep.”

But you knew better. You could see the tension in his body, the heaviness in his expression. You reached out, gently touching his arm, urging him to lie down beside you. “Joel… talk to me.”

He hesitated for a moment, the weight of the world still pressing down on him. But instead of saying anything, he let out a long breath and slid under the covers next to you. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if every action carried the burden he was trying to hide.

You shifted closer to him, resting your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat, steady but faster than usual. His arm wrapped around you almost instinctively, holding you close, but you could feel the tension in his muscles, the internal battle he was fighting.

“You don’t have to carry it all on your own,” you whispered, your hand gently tracing patterns on his chest.

Joel’s arm tightened around you, but he didn’t respond right away. After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice low and rough. “I’m tryin’ to keep everything together… for you, for the baby… for Ellie.”

You looked up at him, your heart aching at the sight of the pain etched into his face. “And who’s keeping you together, Joel?”

He didn’t answer. He just held you tighter, as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded in that moment. The silence stretched between you, heavy but comforting in its own way.

Joel exhaled slowly, the tension in his body softening just a little as he held you close. He could feel your warmth against him, the steady rhythm of your breath, and it made something inside him loosen—a little piece of that ever-present weight.

He ran a hand through your hair, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know,” he started, his rough tone softening, “I used to think I was too broken for this… for love, for family, for you.”

You lifted your head slightly, looking at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Joel…”

But he continued, his words flowing quietly into the night. “But you—you’ve been so good to me. You, with your stubbornness and your heart… you gave me somethin’ I thought I’d never have again. You make me want to be better. For you, for the baby.”

His hand traced slow, gentle circles on your back, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly, the heaviness in the air easing just a little. “You’re a sap, Joel,” you teased, though your heart was fluttering at his words.

Joel chuckled, the sound low and raspy, but it carried a warmth you hadn’t heard from him in a while. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” he said with a small smirk, his eyes softening as he looked at you.

You settled back against his chest, your cheek pressed to the steady rise and fall of his breath. His hand continued to stroke your back, grounding both of you in that moment. But even as the quiet warmth between you spread, you could feel there was something deeper weighing on him still.

After a few moments, Joel spoke again, this time more serious. “There’s somethin’ I gotta do. And you’re not gonna like it.”

You shifted slightly, lifting your head to look at him again, your brows furrowing with concern. “Joel, what do you mean?”

His eyes flickered with something—guilt, regret—but he swallowed it down, forcing a gentle smile for you. “You’re gonna hate me for a little while, darlin’. But I need to do what’s right. For you. For Ellie. For this family.”

You opened your mouth to protest, worry creeping into your chest, but Joel stopped you with a soft kiss on your forehead. “Just trust me,” he whispered. “I’ll make it right.”

You searched his eyes, seeing the weight of the decision he had made. Part of you wanted to push, to ask him what he meant, but the other part knew better. Joel had always carried the burden of protecting those he loved, even when it hurt him.

Eventually, the quiet comfort of his presence and the exhaustion of the day began to take over. You rested your head back on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath you.

“I trust you, Joel,” you whispered, though your mind still whirled with questions.

He held you close, his arm tightening around you, and for a moment, he felt like he could breathe again. But he knew, deep down, that the decision he had made would change things. For better or worse, he would protect the people he loved, even if it meant you’d be angry with him for a time.

As your breathing began to slow, sleep tugging at you, Joel leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I love you,” he whispered into the quiet, his voice raw with emotion. “No matter what happens. I love you.”

You didn’t respond, already drifting off to sleep on his chest, but the warmth of his words followed you into your dreams.

Joel he couldn’t stop feeling his heart breaking at the sight of you sleeping on his chest right now. He had made you believe that safety was a place wherever he was, he made you believe that you were going to have a place to sleep next to him to keep the demons away.

Joel, still wide awake, stared at the ceiling, the weight of his decision settling heavily over him. But for now, with you sleeping peacefully beside him, he could pretend that everything would be okay, just for a little while longer.

You slowly woke to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, stretching and blinking against the brightness. As your mind cleared, you reached for Joel, but the spot next to you was empty. A sense of unease settled in your stomach.

Sitting up, you glanced around the room, noticing the stillness. That’s when your eyes caught sight of a folded piece of paper on the nightstand, the sight of it sending a rush of anxiety through you. You could see your name written in Joel's familiar handwriting, and your heart sank.

You reached for the letter, your fingers trembling slightly as you unfolded it. The words blurred for a moment, but you forced yourself to focus, the reality of the situation washing over you as you read:

Darlin’,

I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I have to do this. I’m leaving you here while I take Ellie to the Fireflies. I thought long and hard about it, and I believe it’s what’s best for all of us.

I can’t risk losing you or the baby. I don’t want to drag you into danger. This is something Ellie needs to do, and I can’t leave her behind. I hope you can understand.

You’re stronger than you know, and I trust you to take care of yourself. I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise. Just… please take care of yourself and the baby.

I love you.

—Joel

Your heart raced as you reread the letter, each line cutting deeper than the last. Confusion, anger, and heartbreak swirled within you, each emotion colliding as you tried to process his decision. He was leaving. Leaving you behind to take Ellie away, and you had no way to stop him.

You stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as you rushed to the door, but there was only silence on the other side. You felt a surge of frustration and fear; how could he think this was for the best?

After a moment, you took a deep breath, trying to ground yourself. You could be angry later, but right now, you needed to find him. You grabbed your jacket and hurried out of the bedroom, determination pushing you forward.

“Joel!” you called out, your voice echoing through the empty house. There was no response, only the quiet that surrounded you. You raced down the hall, hoping to find him somewhere inside, but he was nowhere to be found.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stepped outside, the cool air hitting your skin. You squinted against the light, scanning the area for any sign of him.

The sight of him made your heart drop. Tommy’s face said everything. He looked worn, the weight of the situation clear in his eyes, and that only fueled your rising panic. You rushed toward him, emotions spilling over as tears began to blur your vision.

“Tommy!” you cried, your voice breaking. “Have you seen Joel? He… he’s leaving me here!”

Tommy stepped forward, his arms opening instinctively as you reached him. You collapsed into his embrace, the warmth of his support contrasting sharply with the cold fear wrapping around you. As he held you close, your tears flowed freely, each sob echoing the pain and confusion swirling inside.

“It’s okay,” Tommy murmured, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “I’m here. You’re not alone.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, the reality of the situation crashing over you like a tidal wave. “He thinks he’s doing what’s best, but he’s not! I can’t believe he would leave me.”

Tommy held you tighter, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “I know. I know it hurts. But Joel cares about you—about both of you—more than anything. He’s just scared.”

“But I need him here!” you exclaimed, pulling back slightly to look him in the eyes, the pain reflected back at you. “I don’t want to be left behind. We’re supposed to be a family!”

“I’m your family,” Tommy whispered, his voice steady and sincere.

You felt a flicker of comfort in his words, but it didn’t erase the emptiness Joel’s absence left behind.

………

“Tommy,” Joel had said, his voice low and urgent as he leaned closer, eyes dark with concern. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything,” Tommy replied, sensing the gravity of the moment.

“Take care of my baby,” Joel had insisted, his expression fierce. “Promise me they’ll be okay.”

Tommy had nodded, ready to reassure him. “Of course, Joel. I’ll do everything I can to keep the baby safe.”

But then Joel’s gaze sharpened, a hint of desperation in his voice. “No, I mean my baby,” he clarified, referring not just to the life growing inside you but to you as well. “Promise me both will be okay.”

Tommy had felt the weight of that request, the unspoken fears underlying Joel’s words. “You have my word, brother. I’ll protect them both.”

……

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[lorebird]

In which Ford struggles so badly to relate to other people that he wonders if he’s really human at all. The more isolated he becomes, the harder it is to reconcile with his own humanity.

[bvidzsoo]

Haunted me, haunting you

⁀➷ District 12 ⭒ District 12 was the smallest and poorest of the thirteen districts of Panem; their main industry is coal mining; victors: Lucy Gray Baird, Haymitch Abernathy, Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: victor!Song Mingi x female reader

⁀➷ Warning: cursing, ptsd, panic attacks, violence, blood, mentions of death, hunting, injuries ⁀➷ Word count: 19.7k ⁀➷ Rating: mature, nc-17 ⁀➷ Genre: Hunger Games!au; acquittances since childhood to lovers!au, set before Katniss and Peeta became victors ⁀➷ Summary: After the 73rd Hunger Games, Song Mingi wasn't the same. The spark in his eyes was gone, his once bright smile disappeared and his face became ashen, cheeks hollow, he was merely a shell of the man he once used to be. It hurt seeing him lose himself to the trauma he was forced to endure in the Arena, still haunted by memories...memories of killing someone you both cared about, someone who meant the world to you. Will you be able to help Mingi before it's too late? But most importantly, will Mingi be able to let you in when you bear the very same face he was forced to murder in the Arena in order to become a victor?

A/N: Y'all! My lovelies, it's here!! My thesis was about The Hunger Games and I actually came up with the plot back in like...May?? Uh, anyways, no more gatekeeping this story too lmao, let's all thank Choi San for his appearance this weekend at fashion week, because his outfits inspired me to finally write this oneshot and also come up with a story for him, so, stay tuned! ^^ This piece is actually so very dear to me, I absolutely loved writing it and I just really want to hug Mingi in this, so I really hope you'll love it and enjoy it as much as I did while writing. If I forgot to mention any warnings, let me know so that I can fix it, and sorry for any mistakes, they do slip through sometimes when I proofread. Let me know what you thought of this oneshot, your feedback is always greatly appreciated! Enjoy now! ^^ divider

            His hair was outgrown again, black strands fell into his small and sharp eyes, obscuring them from the world. He had a certain crazed haze in them, irises shaking as the warm brown was overtaken by darkness, a never-ending blackness. The meadow was silent apart from the breeze rustling the leaves, twigs snapping underneath the weight of our feet if we didn’t watch where we stepped. It was quiet apart from the surprised sound I had made and his pants, hurried and frantic as if he was still trying to catch his breath, as if he was frightened by my mere presence. And perhaps he was as our weapons pointed at each other. My hideout had been behind a large bush while his had been behind a tree, wide enough to hide his tall and lanky form. You wouldn’t be able to tell he had lost weight due to the excessive clothes he always wore, but if you knew where to look, you’d spot his sunken collarbones and sharp cheekbones, hands decorated with veins that popped out and a jawline that seemed unnaturally sharp.

My body finally relaxed as it registered no danger, my arm going lax as I lowered my bow and arrow. It took a few more seconds for the man standing in front of me to mirror my actions, eyebrows furrowed deeply with conflict on his face. I knew why he was looking at me like that, a striking reminder of the crimes he was forced to commit, but I didn’t let that deter me from the kindness I always showed to him.

“Hello,” I spoke up softly, mindful of the animals around us and the fact that he was here to hunt too, “I’m sorry for startling you.”

He didn’t speak up, he rarely did when he was in my vicinity—not that he spoke much around people ever since the Games—but that didn’t throw me off from continuously treating him like a human being, something he was, had always been, will continue being. I knew many didn’t treat him like that anymore, everyone threw him glares and spat harsh words at him, but the absent look in his eyes never changed. It was like he wasn’t really there.

“Are you just starting your hunt, by chance?” I questioned, placing my arrow in its holster as I continued holding onto my bow. Despite having lowered his weapon—a bow and arrow, as well—his fingers still curled tightly around the butt of the arrow, almost as if his body refused to relax in my presence. I understood why.

“No.” I tried not to show my surprise when he answered verbally, his voice a low rasp and a deep rumble in his chest. It hadn’t always been like that, when we were younger, his voice used to be squeaky almost like a mouse and oftentimes shrill when he giggled or laughed.

“I have just come out to hunt,” I continued, keeping the soft smile on my lips, but he wasn’t looking at me anymore as I watched him struggle to release his arrow, “Would you like to join me?”

He stiffened again, and I knew why, but his movements became frantic all of a sudden, the arrow slipped in its holster and the bow was back around his wide shoulders. He looked up, face almost pained as he stared at mine deeply, then he shook his head. I didn’t move nor say anything as he suddenly took off, feet tangling in weed and almost sending him flying onto the floor of the forest, but I didn’t help him. I knew he’d hate it, he didn’t let anyone touch him, so I just stayed put and willed myself to watch him as he just barely regained his balance. I wanted to help, but he didn’t allow me, he never has and never will. The meadow was wide, covered in lush green weeds, trees, bushes and colourful flowers, fallen twigs and leaves, logs and rocks, but he still came towards me, not avoiding my body. It was new, most of the time he’d walk around me and not even spare me another glance, but today his eyes were piercing and his stance held more confidence than I have seen in him ever since the Games. My smile didn’t slip off my lips, I was grateful that he wasn’t so keen on avoiding me anymore. But still, almost as if he realized what he was doing, his steps veered away and he went around me just last minute, the fabric of his forest green jacket brushing against my knuckles. I swallowed, nervous for no reason as I turned my head to look after him, “Goodbye, Mingi.”

He flinched when I said his name, he always did and perhaps always will, but instead of ignoring me he looked back too, jaw clenched, but he offered a silent greeting with a nod of his head. My smile widened and his eyes did too at the motion, then he paled, body visibly shaking as he suddenly took off in a sprint, leaving my heart aching and hands trembling as he disappeared from view, my legs giving out as I sat on the muddy floor of the forest. I couldn’t blame him, I never did and I never will, but he made it infinitely harder to cope with the pain of having lost my twin sister because of him.

            The hunt had been successful, I managed to catch four wild ducks, which meant plenty of good coins for a tasty dinner for three. I have started training to become a nurse around a year ago, right after losing my sister, and that meant we were tight on money. I couldn’t say my family struggled much despite being from District 12, but after my sister’s death, it felt like things had slowed down. Money started coming in rather scarcely and it made me realize that she had been an important contributor to our income. Unable to sit back and watch my parents struggle, I decided to follow her path. It had been her dream to become a nurse, to reach the Capitol and become a great doctor, but the Games took both her and her dream away from us. It was a hard blow, it was hard because Mingi could’ve sacrificed himself for a woman who had a whole future planned ahead of herself unlike him, who failed to finish school in his last year and was supposed to work in a mine for the rest of his life. He was selfish, scared, and desperate to remain alive, all reasonable emotions when you’re faced with the choice to kill someone or be killed.

I never blamed him for killing my twin sister, I never hated him for being selfish and shooting his arrow straight into her heart. At least she left this terrifying world quickly and painlessly. I never wished death upon Mingi when my mother wailed while my father held her in his arms and rocked her, sobbing just as loudly as her when the camera span on my sister’s lifeless eyes and face. I never blamed Mingi for her death because he sobbed just as hard as us after the kill, holding her frail frame in his arms as he screamed towards the sky, words unheard as the cameras didn’t record audio too. I didn’t blame him when I found refuge in the meadow my sister loved so much, curled up in a ball in the tall grass as I cried loudly, chest aching and ears ringing until nightfall, when I finally felt empty and numb. And I still didn’t blame him when he returned home, crowned as the winner of last year’s Hunger Games, rewarded with so much money it would last him generations and a house at the Victor’s Village so big three families could fit inside. And despite the pain I felt when the train came to a screeching halt and he got off with empty eyes and sunken cheeks, our eyes meeting for a brief moment, I couldn’t hate him or blame him because the Song Mingi once everyone had known was gone.

The sky had turned darker as the sun hid behind the trees, the moon taking its place in the sky as mist settled upon the forests that surrounded our district. And despite the nightfall, the Hob was alive and buzzing with people who were desperate to trade their goods in exchange for some coins in order to survive another day. The four wild ducks I had caught, I had cut up and taken their feathers off, were displayed on the small table I managed to fetch from behind the building that has seen better days, and I set it up next to an old lady who sold trinkets and jewellery that looked older than even her. I have promised to give her the smaller duck in trade for a silver bracelet that had one pearl. I had never seen a pearl up close, and despite knowing that I’d never wear it, I’d figure out eventually what I wanted to do with it. Perhaps I’ll give it as a gift to my father, since it looked way too big for a woman’s wrist, or perhaps I’ll bring it to my sister’s grave and leave it as a gift to her. I didn’t dwell on the thought much.

The Hob was well-lit despite the old lamps that hung above our heads, and the late summer chill had settled inside, prompting everyone to wear their warmer clothes. I had accepted the battered blanket the old lady handed me when she saw me shivering, and promised to return tomorrow with ointment for her cut-up hands. I couldn’t tell whether she had nobody to look out for her or if her family had simply abandoned her, but I have promised myself after my sister’s death that I would help those who needed help yet couldn’t pay with coins for my services. A flower, cheese and bread, or even a small trinket would be good enough for me, I’d make use of it if it meant I helped a soul that needed attention and care.

Three ducks still sat on the table in front of me and I smiled warmly at everyone who wandered towards me, hungry eyes fixating on the ducks. The man that stood in front of me was a mine worker, I knew him because he worked with my father numerous times before.

“Hello, sir.” I greeted him and his eyes briefly looked up at me.

“Your father must be proud of you for helping out,” He muttered under his breath as he scratched his already irritated neck, “he speaks of you a lot on our breaks. How much for one duck?”

“Five coins will do, sir,” I answered him politely, but as he looked inside his pouch his face had turned ashen, then furious.

“Five is too much, child, who do you think can pay so much?” His voice turned harsh, and the lady next to me cast a glance our way.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I risk my life stepping outside the boundaries of our district, five coins are cheap for my sacrifices and the duck.” I didn’t let him waver my resolve, I knew how people were here. They would try to trick their way out of paying the worth of the items, and I wouldn’t fall for his manipulations. But the man seemed displeased as his fist came down on the table, making me jump. I wasn’t a violent person, but I was glad for the knife that was hidden underneath my clothes, pressing against my hip as a reminder that it was there. The old lady now looked at us, eyebrows furrowing.

“Maybe you should return to your little nursing school and fuck off to the Capitol like your sister had—”

“If you cannot pay five coins, walk along!” The old lady snapped next to me, eyes hardened and voice raised as it turned heads, curious eyes watching the tense exchange. The man threw her a glance and scoffed before he reached inside his pouch and retrieved the coins I had asked for, throwing them on the table as he grabbed one duck and stalked off. I sighed but gave the old lady a thankful smile and collected the coins, crouching down to retrieve one as it had tumbled to the ground. The cacophony of the market seemed to quieten at once until it turned into just murmurs, and I stood back up with a confused look on my face. I was a bit far from the entrance of the Hob and couldn’t see far ahead due to the number of people inside, but when the crowd started parting for a certain person, I understood their reaction.

Despite the camouflage he tried wearing, his clean and thick clothes managed to make him stick out like a sore thumb, his small eyes sharper now that the lower half of his face was concealed by a black silk scarf. He still wore the same jacket as earlier today, a satchel bag sitting against his hip as he wandered further inside the market. People whispered behind his back and stepped aside when he came too close, and I watched as people glared at him behind his back, pointing fingers and no doubt throwing insults at him. I wondered if people from other districts treated their Victors the same way people here treated Mingi. Maybe it was because my sister was a beloved figure in our district, a professional healer and always kind to everyone, maybe it was because Mingi had lost himself halfway into the games and murdered those who crossed his path viciously. Behind all the stares, glares and whispers lay something deeper. It was fear because people were reminded of their animalistic side, of who they could turn into when faced with the question of whether they wanted to live or die. They were scared because everyone knew they would do the same Mingi had done, kill an innocent and kind person in order to survive.

It was almost as if the market had frozen over when Mingi finally reached my humble table, silence so loud it irked my ears as everyone watched on edge our exchange. His eyes didn’t settle on my face for long, reluctant to look at me when so many were watching us, but I just smiled and looked at him with kindness, “Good evening, Mingi.”

I could hear gasps even, mouths hanging open as the Victor halted in front of the ducks I managed to hunt, eyes sweeping over them as if he did a quick count in his head. Even if minuscule, his eyes conveyed surprise and somewhat admiration when we looked up at me again, but upon seeing my smile, his eyes steeled, becoming devoid of any emotion. He nodded his head once in acknowledgement, then swiftly walked off, eyes set on a table that was littered with old and new weapons alike. Mingi had the money to buy the best of the best, but he always came to the Hob, late at night, probably hoping fewer people would be here. He could afford luxuries, but he preferred helping out those in need. He never said anything when they demanded more of him, he just wordlessly handed them the coins and left with a quiet ‘Thank you’. People catalogued him as selfish and ruthless, but he was deeply caring and rather selfless. It all mattered on the perspective you had of him and whether you wanted to spot the good in him or not.

Once Mingi was on his way towards other stalls and tables, the market seemed to regain its liveliness while remaining aware and alert of his presence amongst the crowd. Nobody approached him and nobody spoke to him, the vendors gave him second glances and seemed reluctant to acknowledge him despite the money they knew he could offer them. My eyes remained on his tall form, his shoulders hunched forward, as people passed by my table, sometimes stopping to inquire about the price of the wild ducks. A girl, too young to be here, bounced towards my table as she held onto her mother’s hand, eyes stuck on the ducks. My heart ached at the sight of her frail frame and the ghastliness of her mother’s face, and when she tried to veer her daughter away because they barely had any money, I cleared my throat and stepped around the table.

“Hello,” I greeted them kindly, and smiled at the girl as her eyes shone with enthusiasm, “Would you like to buy some wild duck?”

“We don’t have enough money, sorry.” The mother muttered embarrassed and I quickly shook my head.

“Well, you’re in luck tonight then, because I’m not looking for money.” I have acquired ten coins as I have sold two ducks, and while I still needed at least ten more, everyone had to make sacrifices and I wasn’t about to let them walk away without the duck in a bag and in their hands.

“But—”

“Come.” I beckoned the little girl towards myself, disregarding the mother as her eyes widened, “Which one would you like?”

I crouched down to be at the same height as the girl and she smiled widely at me, eyes sweeping over the two ducks that have remained on the table. She stuck her tongue out as she seemed to analyse both, then pointed to the larger one and I grinned back at her.

“That’s a good one,” I said with a chuckle and the girl shyly ran back to her mom to hide behind her skirt. I grabbed a paper bag and carefully placed the duck inside of it as the mother’s eyes followed my every move.

“I cannot accept this.” She tried to refuse but I was having none of it as I handed the bag to the little girl instead.

“You can.” I said with a reassuring smile, “My mother is looking for a seamstress, perhaps you can help her out sometime?”

I knew the woman was a seamstress whose business wasn’t flourishing anymore, but she was still clinging on to it, trying to do her best as she raised her daughter. Nobody knew who her father was and they had been treated harshly ever since she was born. Tears sprung into the mother’s eyes and she bowed her head deeply, “Thank you, I’ll make sure to do a good job. Bring in your clothes too, if they need fixing.”

“I sure will, thank you.” I bowed back and looked at the little girl, “Do you like pies?”

“I do!” She exclaimed happily and I chuckled.

“Well, then, I’ll see you two sometime next week with a pie and three dresses.” The mother bowed her head again and thanked me as a tear fell down her cheek, then she veered her daughter towards the exit as she blabbered on about how she loved duck meat the most. With a content smile on my lips, I walked back behind my table as I felt eyes on me. The old lady had a thoughtful look on her face as I faced her, and then she looked towards the crowd and sighed loudly.

“Your parents have raised you well, both you and your sister.” The old lady said and I nodded, agreeing with her, “She was kind too, but you are kinder, my dear. You have never expected anything in exchange for your actions, ever since you were little.”

“If we don’t stick together, then who will help us out?” I asked, eyebrows furrowing and my mood souring, “Surely not President Snow and the people from the Capitol, right?”

The old lady gave me a long look as she hummed, eyes looking back onto the crowd as I heard someone yelp. Curious, I turned my head and tried to pinpoint whoever had called out in fright, but the crowd was big and I couldn’t see anyone.

“Be brave and honest, but careful, even the walls have ears, my dear.” The old lady advised as men started shouting, the crowd crying out in fright again as suddenly it started dispersing not far from us, the people hid behind tables and next to vendors as another man exclaimed in pain. My eyebrows furrowed as I perked up, walking around my table as the crowd was clearing and I could almost see what was happening up ahead.

“What is the matter—” My eyes widened when I realized someone had Mingi’s torso pressed against a table, face down, wrists held behind his back as he struggled to break free as he hissed and glared viciously. My eyes widened as suddenly he kicked his leg backwards, and the man holding him folded over in pain as he released the Victor, scrambling back as Mingi whirled around with a wild look in his eyes, hands held out protectively in front of himself. The crowd steeled for a second, my heartbeat quickening as I realized he had the same look in his eyes as earlier today. Then, almost at once, three men jumped forward and tried to restrain him as Mingi pulled a knife from his pocket, sneering at whoever jumped at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I didn’t know what led to this altercation, but something felt wrong. Mingi was inoffensive, he never attacked first and he wouldn’t even hurt a fly even if it bothered him. Someone must’ve done or said something that made him so defensive.

But the men didn’t care as more women screamed, and I gripped the edge of my table as they jumped towards him, trying to take him down. Mingi was alone and despite being strong, he couldn’t defend himself against three men who were stronger and really angry. The way he held his knife was obvious enough that he didn’t intend to harm anyone, it was obvious enough to me that he was scared. My heart leapt into my chest as a man jumped at him from behind, unseen by almost everyone, an arm going around Mingi’s neck as the one to his right slapped the knife out of his tight hold. Then, his knees were kicked out from underneath him and he fell with a terrified cry, trashing around as the men tried to restrain his frantic movements. I took off without realizing my legs were taking me in their direction, heart beating fast as my ears rang, head aching the more Mingi’s cries started sounding less aggressive and more scared, but nobody seemed to hear them or care about them.

I pushed people out of the way, unapologetic and frantic, running around tables and jumping over crates as they were in my way, the only goal in my mind to reach him. Held down like that, his eyes were wide and filled with helplessness, the same look had been reflected in my sister’s when she had been shot in the heart. Mingi was still trashing around but his body was trembling now and it was audible that he was struggling to breathe. My body was lit with deep anger as I realized everyone was feeding off of his fear instead of realizing he was having a panic attack. The last person I pushed aside gave me a look and went to grab at me, but I threw them a menacing glare before I broke free of the crowd finally, panting as the attention was on both Mingi and me now. The men who held him were smirking and mocking him, but a look of confusion crossed their faces when I stood in front of them, frantic and desperate to stop this.

“Stop it!” I snapped, voice a lot more high-pitched than I expected it to be, “Let go of him!”

“He’s like a rabid dog,” One man hissed, “Like hell, are we releasing him. He’ll hurt us—”

“I said,” My voice held danger as I itched to grab my knife and hold it threateningly towards the men, “let him fucking go!”

And if my scream didn’t chill the onlookers, then Mingi’s helpless whimper did as his eyes screwed shut tightly, even his head shaking as he struggled to breathe. I didn’t wait for the men to listen to me as I scrambled towards Mingi, falling to my knees with a loud thud as my knees shook from the impact, but I didn’t care as he was finally released. He flinched and tried to flee, but my cold fingertips traced his forehead as his eyes snapped open, wide and shaking as they bore into mine.

“It’s okay,” My voice was quiet and gentle, assuring, “I’m going to take this off.”

I gently grabbed the scarf that covered his nose and lips, and a strong hand suddenly grabbed at my bicep. The men tried to touch Mingi again, but I threw them a warning look.

“You’ll be able to breathe better, Mingi,” I said with the same softness as the grip on my arm continued to tighten, but Mingi didn’t object as I slowly pulled the scarf off his lower face. He gasped and clung onto me with both hands now, lips trembling as his body shook. He looked smaller than he was, he looked on the verge of passing out. With a shaky breath, I traced his thick eyebrows and brushed his long bangs out of his eyes as I offered him the smallest smile.

“Mingi, what we’ll do next is easy, alright?” He gasped as he was hyperventilating, but his eyes were stuck to my lips, “We’ll breathe together, alright? We inhale big and exhale long, good? You’re safe, Mingi.”

I didn’t know how much my words managed to reach his mind, but I started taking big inhales and long exhales, hoping that he’d soon follow my lead. People gawked at us and murmured, horrified that I was helping the man who mercilessly killed my twin sister. I didn’t care, Mingi was human too and he was suffering. It was right in front of their noses, the fact that he was still struggling and paying the consequences of his actions, but nobody seemed to actually care that he wasn’t just a rich and scary Victor now.

“In,” I inhaled, holding Mingi’s cold face in my hands as his fingers dug into my cardigan, “Out.”

And he was slowly catching on to how to breathe in and out, his chest expanding and then falling back as he emptied his lungs. His body was shaking and he would still whimper or become smaller when someone made a sound too loud, but I was here, and I was determined to help him regain his senses, regain himself. It took him a few good minutes, but his frantic breaths have found a new rhythm, much calmer and quieter than before, inhaling and exhaling at the same time with me. A small smile crossed my face when I realized he was slowly returning to himself, my thumbs gently rubbed the skin under his eyes, trying to bring the smallest form of comfort. His grip relaxed around my biceps and his body leaned towards mine as if it was trying to drink in my warmth, I let him nuzzle his face into my hands as his body finally stopped trembling. The people around us went quiet and I gulped, trying to keep my composure in front of everyone. I was mad, I was angry and I wanted to scream at them for treating him like an animal, for caging him in and making him feel like he was in danger, like he was back in the arena once again, triggering a panic attack and probably unwanted memories that he tried to bury deep down.

“You’re safe, Mingi.” His eyes snapped open and bore into mine, irises expanded and still alarmed as he took breaths through his mouth, hands slipping down from my biceps to my wrists. His grip was painful and I understood that he wanted my hands off his skin, so I pulled them back into my lap, but he didn’t let go of me just yet. His eyes were shaking again, tears sprung into them and he gulped, subtly shaking his head. He had become paler than he was before, and I knew the crowd was too much, the eyes and the whispers, the fingers that were pointed at us and the sneers, the judgemental stares. I gripped his wrists back and stood, looking down at Mingi as I silently asked him to stand as well.

His eyes continued boring into mine, face ashen, but at least he knew he was safe as long as he didn’t let go of me.

            The petals of the soft pink flower felt dainty underneath my fingertips as I gently traced them, a small smile on my lips as I inhaled their scent before rearranging the bouquet in the vase. I had brought them in from the meadow just yesterday, so they were still fresh and flourishing. The meadow was full of the pinkish coloured Musk Mallows which was my twin sister’s favourite flower. She’d always gush about their softness and beauty, collecting a small bouquet for herself to decorate her grim side of our shared room. I wasn’t fond of the flower at first, its smell irritating my nostrils, but with the passing of years and sneaking to the meadow before sunset, I started loving their familiarity. The meadow was peaceful, quiet, and far away from the Peacekeepers and the grey haze of District 12. It was a reminder of what our Earth must’ve looked like before the nuclear war destroyed it and forced it to become what Panem is today.

The pink flowers reminded me of freedom and of my sister, of a dream that was possible to achieve if you never gave up and fought for it. It reminded me of love and laughter and the look on my sister’s face whenever she cradled it to her chest, of the chastising of our parents for sneaking out once again, but the fondness on their faces when my sister and I would sprint to our rooms giggling and talking about going to the meadow again tomorrow to make flower crowns for our mother and father. It reminded me of tender touches and a quiet love that you didn’t have to talk about or scream it out into the world for everyone to see it or understand it, it reminded me of a toothy smile and small eyes that once used to laugh, of sneaked glances and shy looks passed between classes.

The deep voice of my father's and my mother’s gentler one carried outside of their room, all the way to the kitchen as I changed the flowers’ water, my parents’ murmur gentle and warm. The water was cold against my skin and it made me shiver despite the warm summer breeze that came inside through the open window, and I smiled when I heard footsteps coming into the kitchen. My father was dressed in his overalls, his tools in a handbag and a cap low over his eyes as my mother came following him outside, fussing about the hole in his jacket’s arm. Their love had always been quiet and subtle, it was always about noticing the small things, about doing something quietly for the other one.

“Don’t worry, a small hole won’t make me feel cold down in the mine.” My father’s voice held amusement as he grabbed the jacket out of my mother’s hands. I rearranged the flowers in the vase once I was satisfied with the amount of water inside the glass, and chanced a glance in my parents’ direction.

“But it will seem like your wife is unable to sew it for you,” My mother’s eyebrows were furrowed and I chuckled quietly, picking out seven pink flowers from the bouquet.

“And isn’t that true?” Teasing bordered my father’s tone as he gave my mother a cheeky smile, and she looked away with an embarrassed huff, “Don’t worry, nobody will notice it. It’s rather dark down there.”

“Do you remember the small pink and purple boutique at the square?” I perked up, gaining my parents’ attention as if they were oblivious to my presence.

“The lady who has a daughter now?” My mother asked as she fixed my father’s collar, remaining close by his side.

“Yes, hers.” I nodded, then crouched down to place the flowers I picked out of the vase inside my basket, “She owes me a small favour, we should bring our faulty clothes to her.”

“I heard she’s been struggling,” My father trailed off as he looked at me, but not for too long, then grabbed my mother’s hand, “well then, why not? Everyone needs some coins to make due.”

“Right.” My mother nodded with a smile as I grabbed my basket and mentally prepared myself for a good enough excuse, “We should visit her, then, sometime this week—Y/N, where are you going, honey?”

I froze in front of the front door and tried to look as innocent as possible, “I’ll stop by at a house before I head to the Nursery, one of my patients was sick lately.”

“In the middle of summer?” My father asked with confusion, eyes straying from my face when I looked at him sadly.

“Some old people are barely hanging on, dad.” I muttered but shook off the grim thought, “I’ll see you tonight, right?”

“Sure, take care of yourself.” He said gently and I nodded, eyeing my mother as her fingers curled around my father’s arm just a bit tighter. Working in a mine had always been dangerous, it had always taken away lives way too abruptly and painfully.

“See you, then.” I waved at my parents and they smiled, proud but with sadness bordering their eyes as they never looked at me for too long. I understood why. The face which was mine hadn’t always been just mine, it had once been my twin sister’s too, even if slightly different. I didn’t blame them like I didn’t blame Mingi, and I never got angry at them like I never got angry at Mingi. Everyone suffered and coped in their own way with loss, and when things got too difficult to bear anymore, I knew I would find solace in the meadow that reminded me so much of my sister.

The walk to the Victor’s Village wasn’t too long, but it was midday and the streets were littered with people going on about their day. I greeted those who offered me smiles and I stopped to talk with those who needed my advice as a nurse. Young children laughed and screamed in the courtyard as I passed by the school, pleasant memories flooding my mind as a young girl clung to the gates and waved at me with a giggle. It reminded me of when I tried to scale the gate in order to prove that I was strong, only to fall and twist my ankle as I tried not to wail, but instead swallow the pain and smile when my classmates started fussing over me. It had been—an already—tall and lanky figure that pushed everyone aside with worry on his face as he came to kneel next to me, thick eyebrows furrowed as he clumsily grabbed my leg, applying pressure where it hurt most. I cried out, scaring everyone, and they started shouting at the boy, trying to pull him away from me as they accused him of hurting me, but I didn’t want him to go. His touch was warm and gentle, scared but willing to help, and I only stopped throwing a fit when the other children left him alone and made him pick me up and carry me to the Nursery that was close by. His voice was still scratchy back then, but it was soft and friendly, “You’re safe, Y/N.”

Nervous for no reason, I readjusted the collar of my lavender-coloured dress and then knocked against the perfectly white door, the air a bit clearer over here. The Victor’s Village was just by the borders of District 12, meaning that it was closer to the forest and meadow I loved so much. It was always silent here, and it smelled of flowers and baked goods whenever the Song’s front door was open to let the fresh air in. Only two houses were inhibited inside the Village and at night it could seem eery, almost haunted by all the lives lost in the Hunger Games. But my irrational nervousness came to a stop when the front door opened and an elderly smiling face welcomed me on the other side.

“Oh, my dear,” The elder woman, Mrs. Song, had a surprised look on her face, “I didn’t expect to see you so soon!”

After everything that’s happened at the Hob last night, I wouldn’t have abandoned Mingi, leave him alone to deal with the aftereffects of his panic attack. I stuck to his side and walked him back to the Victor’s Village as no words were exchanged between us, but the fact that he didn’t shuffle too far from my body was the confirmation I needed that he appreciated my presence and persistence. I was a nurse in training, after all, and he was just a person fighting against the demons inside his mind.

“It was due time I brought you a new ointment, Mrs. Song.” I said with a smile as Mingi’s grandmother beckoned me inside, “And I picked fresh flowers yesterday, I figured they would look nice in your kitchen or living room.”

The old lady’s face lit up upon hearing about the flowers, and I had just barely stepped out of my sandals when her hand gripped my wrist and pulled me after herself. Despite the house being managed by an elderly couple and their grandchild, it was in perfect condition and always pristine clear. I have offered to help them out more often, but Mrs. Song had always said that they were doing fine and capable of handling the huge house on their own. I didn’t want to push them or make them feel incapable since they had Mingi back now, thankfully, and they wouldn’t need another pair of hands to help out. While my sister and Mingi were in the Games, I frequently stopped by the Song’s small house to help the elderly couple with anything I could. Sometimes I cooked for them, other times I helped scrub the house clean, and when their legs hurt too much, I would sell their baked goods at the market and bring back the coins for them.

“You’re so sweet,” Mrs. Song mused as she directed me towards the large table in the kitchen, “Take a seat, I made some apple pie just this morning, it’s my Mingi’s favourite. Would you like some too?”

“I wouldn’t want to take it away from him, then, since it’s his favourite—”

“Nonsense.” Mrs. Song waved her hand, hurrying to take a plate and fork, “That boy is so tall but so skinny. He barely eats anything lately, my dear, what should I do to bring back his appetite?”

It’s been almost a year since his Games, and sometimes I found myself throwing up after eating, my sister’s lifeless eyes flashing behind my eyes, a constant reminder that she wasn’t here anymore. That she wouldn’t go to the Capitol and that she wouldn’t become a nurse, never to hunt again or lay in the flower field at the meadow.

“Just be gentle and patient with him, Mrs. Song,” I placed the basket on the table and opened it, “I can’t guarantee he’ll ever be fine, but he’s doing better. I can see it in his eyes.”

“He’s still haunted by memories,” Mrs. Song whispered defeated as I grabbed the flowers and the tin can of ointment for her leg, “but he doesn’t wake up from nightmares so often anymore.”

“He’ll get better with time, he’ll eventually stop blaming himself.” I whispered as I headed towards Mrs. Song, who had paused and had her head lowered, “He’s lucky to have you and Mr. Song, and you’re doing everything you can for him. It’s good, I am glad he has people who love him and support him.”

Mrs. Song hummed and turned her head to look at me, taking the items from my hands. She smelled the flowers and grinned, placing the ointment by the sink as she went to fetch a vase for the pinkish flowers, “I had always been able to tell whether it was your sister or you, you know? Remember when you brought my Mingi candies when he helped you with your homework? Your sister never quite liked him, I once watched her kick him in the shin because he refused to carry her to school on his back.”

I blushed and looked away feeling embarrassed as Mrs. Song started laughing quietly, amused by the recall of a longtime memory, “You’ve always been soft-spoken and calm, you always looked at my Mingi with admiration and understanding in your eyes. I know he’s not—he appreciates everything you’ve done for him since—since that day, and he’s trying to mend your once bond.”

“It was her who volunteered to take my spot,” My throat felt a little tight, like something was bothering it from the inside, “she knew what she’d have to face, she chose her fate willingly. Mingi only did what everyone else did before him and will do after him, I just wish he was …more willing to receive kindness and love.”

Mrs. Song hummed and gave me a long look before she walked back to me, grabbing the curtain of the small window as she pulled it to the side. She had a big smile on her lips as she gazed outside, and I followed her line of sight, stunned by what I saw. Mingi was outside in the back garden with his grandfather, crouched down and digging up the soil as a half-empty sack lay next to him. His grandfather was fanning himself and holding a bottle of water as his mouth moved, telling Mingi something that made him smile. It was small at first, barely a twitch of the corner of his plump and red lips, but then it expanded slowly into something wider. Something which pulled at the corner of his sharp eyes and softened them up, the brown in them brighter and warmer as his smile only became bigger, crooked front teeth on display, boxy and warm. It lit up his sharp face and made him look kind and friendly, so easily lovable, so easily approachable. The smile made his eyes so small you almost couldn’t see them as they creased, long and tall nose scrunching up as his chest started shaking. It looked like when he was sobbing, but now he was laughing, loudly and joyously, and it made it harder to look at him than at the blazing sun.

My breath hitched and something dormant stirred in my chest, something that made my heart pump my blood faster and my palms ball up into fists as my eyes widened, lips parting in surprise the longer I watched the joy expand on his whole face, making him throw back his head, his black hair not obscuring his eyes for once. His skin was pale despite its tan complex, making it obvious that he didn’t spend much time outside anymore, but under the warm rays of the sun, it made him glow brightly and breathtakingly. He looked casual in his white shirt, which threatened to fall off his right shoulder, and his dark blue trousers were dirtied by the soil his knees dug into. He looked gorgeous, beautiful and mesmerizing, and I have just realized I never wanted to see him cry or frown or tremble in fear ever again. I wanted Mingi to be happy, to be joyous and grateful that he was still alive. I wanted him to smile and laugh every day, his warm eyes trained on me—on my face—without pain or hesitance lingering in them. I wanted Mingi to see me and not my dead twin sister in the reflection of my features.

I gulped, suddenly aware of the tears in my eyes when Mrs. Song placed her wrinkly hand on top of my fisted one, gently squeezing it. Her eyes bore into the side of my head and I sniffed once, trying to gather myself and blink the tears away. Mrs. Song remained silent, but she hummed and gently helped my hands relax as I uncurled them, pressing them into the cold countertop, “He smiles like that from time to time, when he’s able to let go of everything and just be in the moment. I know you miss my grandson, and I know you miss your sister even more.”

“I was never meant to lose both of them,” I whispered, voice strained as I forced my head to turn, Mingi’s laughter and happiness burned into the forefront of my mind, “The Games were never supposed to take away the sister I loved with my whole being, and they were never supposed to take away the innocence and light in Mingi.”

“Life isn’t always fair, my dear,” Mrs. Song said as she let the curtain fall back in place, “Sometimes unexplainable things happen and if we dwell on them trying to find an explanation, whether ordinary or divine, we threaten to lose ourselves in an impossible quest. You’re stronger than anyone has ever thought you’d be, don’t let the darkness get to you like it gets to most of us. You have no idea how much it means that there’s someone who views Mingi like a human being besides me and his grandfather, I was afraid he’d end up like Haymitch, but he’s still fighting and trying to do his best.”

“Mingi’s stronger than he gives credit to himself,” I said with conviction as I walked towards the sink to fetch the ointment I brought, “He’ll never end up like poor Haymitch. I’ll have to check on him soon.”

“He’s still breathing, if you’re worried about him.” Mrs. Song’s tone was sour as she knocked on the window, “I went over today, brought him some pie too. It was the first time since we moved here that he didn’t slam the door in my face, I suspect apple pie is also his favourite.”

Mrs. Song and I chuckled to ourselves as we heard the front door open and then close loudly, manly voices conversing about whether the new seeds they had planted would grow out fast or not. I opened the tin can and handed it to Mrs. Song so that she could smell it and realize I had infused some cinnamon into it since it’s her favourite scent. Her eyes lit up and she grinned just as the men appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, Mr. Song’s laughter gruff, followed by a scratchy cough. I let my eyes fall on the grandfather and grandson, their eyes and noses very similar, it seemed like the traits had carried over to Mingi too. His grandparents weren’t tall people, but judging by the small fragments of memories of Mingi’s parents, I could remember his father being an intimidatingly tall man. Unfortunately, he died in a mining accident when Mingi and I were barely five years old, and his mother unfortunately died not even two years later due to an incurable sickness.

“Oh, Miss Park, what brings you our way?” Mr. Song asked in surprise as he tried to stand up straighter, dusting off his pants and making soil fall onto the clean floors. Mrs. Song’s eyes narrowed but she didn’t say something as Mr. Song acted like he was innocent.

“I wanted to bring Mrs. Song a new ointment for her leg, hopefully, this will work better.” I tried to act like it didn’t hurt when Mingi’s expression fell once he realized it was me who stood in their kitchen, “Is your chest alright, Mr. Song? Do your lungs still hurt when you cough?”

“Ah, no, don’t worry about me!” He quickly brushed my concerns off, but my eyes were stuck on Mingi as he shuffled on his feet, shoulders hunching as if he was trying to look smaller. He didn’t look my way, sharp eyes pointed to the floor, but his face was void of any expression. I could still see his smile in front of my eyes, I could even imagine what his deep laughter sounded like—probably higher-pitched because it had always been breathy—but it remained as an unfulfilled desire because Mingi would never look at me like that, just with anguish and pain in his eyes, “And are you well? I hope our Mingi didn’t inconvenience you too much last night—”

“Helping him, or anyone for the matter, is never an inconvenience to me, Mr. Song.” I didn’t mean to cut the elder man off, nor to sound too snappy, but I couldn’t help myself. The anger and rage I felt last night for the treatment Mingi was forced to face at the Hob still simmered just underneath my skin, making me sensitive, “It wouldn’t have even happened if people stopped seeing him the way the Capitol has painted him, I—I can’t just stand and watch them torment him, I’m sorry. But I’m glad you’re feeling better today, Mingi.”

The Victor flinched when I said his name, gripping his left arm as he started scratching it through the fabric of the loose white shirt he wore, but he nodded his head and briefly looked up at me, a glimpse of gratitude visible on his face, “Thank you for stepping in.”

“Anytime,” I said, and then Mingi was looking anywhere but at me, my presence in his home clearly making him feel uncomfortable. Realizing that despite his grandparents always welcoming me eagerly with open arms, Mingi still didn’t feel comfortable nor keen on seeing me in the one place where he was supposed to be safe from everyone and everything. I understood why, so I didn’t let the thought sour my mood or bring my spirits down, instead, I went and gathered my basket with a smile on my face and glanced at Mrs. Song, “Thank you for the apple pie, but I’m needed at the Nursery, I’ll have it some other time perhaps. Mr. Song, don’t exert yourself too much and if you’re feeling unwell, let me know.”

The men stood aside so that I could leave the kitchen and despite making sure I didn’t walk too close to Mingi, my knuckles still brushed against the soft fabric of his shirt, just barely but it felt soft and warm. My body stiffened, but I didn’t stop despite Mingi’s head turning to look after me, eyebrows furrowed as he looked conflicted.

“Goodbye!” I called before I was out the door, forced to take deep breaths as my heart was hammering against my chest. I had thought I could do this. But the longer he looked at me with disdain, reluctance and pain in his eyes, the more my chest ached and my lungs constricted, trying to call out for the man I was missing, for the boy who always smiled when he saw me and averted his eyes shyly if he looked for too long. But I wasn’t giving up, I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t treat him like the monster the Capitol made him out to be.

            The Hob once was a place filled with laughter and good disposition, a place where people went to dance, listen to music and enjoy their evenings. Now, after the war that destroyed District 13, the Hob became a mere warehouse that was worn down by the passing of time, destroyed by harsh winters and scorching summers. With its missing windows and hollow insides, the people of District 12 made a place out of it that would host illegal night markets, a means of trying to earn more coins in plus despite it being illegal. The Peacemakers knew of it but they never interfered as long as those guarding it got something out of it too. But with the disappearance of what the Hob once used to be, it needed a replacement, a place that would bring people together still, bring some light into their dark every day. The Hut was that place, an old house of a family that have long died since, in a slightly better-off part of District 12. As expected, the Peacekeepers knew of this place too, but they rarely came to bother people as it was close to the mayor’s house, thus leading to fewer displays of aggressive behaviour. But there were exceptions, there always were exceptions.

The people of District 12 couldn’t be considered hostile or unfriendly, but they knew how to hold grudges, and they weren’t afraid to show their hatred toward one another. It’s this reason why they so blatantly mistreated Mingi, swearing and cursing at his face, brave to lay their hands on him without thinking that it could trigger memories from the Games, making him lash out. At the Hob, when he had a lapse of judgment, his panic attack was induced by something that triggered a terrible memory from the games, leading to the altercation. But people seemed to not understand this, ignorant and unwilling to hear me out and realize that they were hurting him more by their attitudes towards him, ostracizing him even more. My friends, who had always known how I felt about Mingi, were just as ignorant at first, blaming him and mocking him, but they’ve gotten better at accepting him and leaving him alone. They weren’t children anymore, I wouldn’t be held accountable for their actions and words, but I could at least try and open their eyes to reality.

The Hut was almost overflowing by the time me and my friends had arrived, rushing inside as the summer breeze bit at our exposed skin. The long-sleeved dress I wore was dark green, like the forest I’d go hunting at, and I had a dainty brown belt around my waist that my sister had gifted me a long time ago. It was made of leather and it must’ve cost a fortune to her, but she smiled widely and clapped her hands when I opened the small gift box, my eyes widening at the expensive clothing item. Now, knowing that she loved it when I wore it, I made sure to wear it as often as I could even if she wasn’t here to see me. It’s the thought that mattered, and I knew she’d be elated if she were here.

We managed to catch an empty table, just about fitting for seven people as we settled in our chairs, voices raised as the live band played their upbeat music, gathering dancing couples close by the scene and cheering everyone on to come and dance. My friends wanted to grab each a pint of beer before we’d mingle with others our age, so I volunteered to walk up to the bar and order us drinks as three Peacekeepers off duty had approached our table, obviously trying to charm the single ladies who sat there. I wasn’t keen on them, they were ruthless in their practices and unforgiving and fake even when they didn’t wear their uniforms. I had no interest in men like them, men who chose to serve the Capitol and earn a paycheck by asserting violence on others.

I pushed my way through the crowd and tried to dodge every drunk person that came my way, but someone had pushed me from behind just as I neared the bar, making me fall forward and crash into someone’s back. The person stiffened instantly and before I could panic, the familiar scent of the person reached my nose. The fabric of his sweater was soft underneath my fingertips, obviously being a gift from someone wealthy as nobody from District 12 could’ve afforded it. It was beige and had an intriguing black pattern knitted into it, making the sweater look even more cozy. I stepped back and up to the bar, cheeks flushed from the heat inside the place but also from stumbling so clumsily into Mingi.

“I’m sorry,” I spoke up as our eyes met, his widening as mine looked away, “someone pushed me and I lost my footing.”

Mingi didn’t answer, but his hand curled around his pint, knuckles turning white as he squeezed it. His eyes remained stuck on me, though, something unusual as I fumbled with my small purse to find enough coins for my order. I threw him a quick glance and he quickly averted his eyes, staring ahead as his eyebrows furrowed. His hair, surprisingly, was brushed out of his eyes and his cheeks were tinged pink, finally not so pale and sickly looking. His plump lips were chapped but Mingi didn’t seem to mind that as he took a small sip of his own beer. I leaned over the bar and motioned towards the one managing it that I needed seven pints. I wouldn’t be able to carry them to my table, but someone would help, I didn’t worry about that. Now that I had to wait, I turned my body to face Mingi’s, and watched as he stiffened when he realized I was looking at him.

“Are you here by yourself?” I asked with a small smile on my lips and he nodded, picking at a thread of his sleeve as they were longer than his hands and covered them. The sweater created the illusion that it swallowed Mingi’s broad and tall form, giving him a cosy look that oozed safety. I fought against the pull to step closer, to touch his sweater to feel its texture, to compliment him about the way he had styled his hair, finally not obscuring his beautiful eyes. Mingi remained silent, eyes pointed forward as the men standing by the bar gave him irritated looks, as if his mere existence was an inconvenience to them. I sighed and leaned back just a bit, throwing them a warning glare until they turned away, looking uncomfortable.

“Would you like to join me?” I tried with an innocent offer, my smile slightly widening, “I’m here with my—”

“No.” But Mingi’s answer was quick and almost frantic as his eyes widened a bit, his head turning just a little to look at me. He looked almost appalled by my offer and I felt bad for making him feel uncomfortable, but lately, I felt like I didn’t know what to say to him, what was appropriate and what was triggering.

“Right, sorry,” I muttered an apology as the host appeared with my pints of beer, a younger boy trudging after him with a grimace. He looked like he didn’t want to be here, and by the baby fat on his cheeks, he probably wasn’t even supposed to be here.

“Here, help the lady!” The host announced loudly and grabbed the coins I pushed towards him, pushing the younger boy around the bar. Mingi’s eyes fell on the boy, who seemed to pay Mingi no mind other than a quick glance, and I offered him a smile as I grabbed four pints.

“I’ll be here, Mingi.” I ignored it when he flinched, instead smiling wider, “In case you change your mind or need me.”

“Thanks.” I didn’t let my surprise show as he thanked me, quietly and almost hesitantly, but our eyes met and he nodded his head, eyes unsure as they remained stuck to my face. I lingered for a second, wishing to say more, to look at him more, but the young boy was already walking off with the other pints and I couldn’t stay by the bar forever. I nodded my head and swiftly walked off, not without looking back and realizing Mingi’s eyes were following me. It made my chest constrict, a lump in my throat rise as I forced a smile onto my face once I reached my friends’ table, which was filled with laughter and joy.

It felt nice breaking away from the monotonous days, from the grey mood everyone in District 12 seemed to have, it felt nice to spend an evening laughing and enjoying myself. Music seemed to always uplift my mood, and I loved watching people dance, eyes stuck to the way they twirled and moved, sometimes laughing, sometimes looking like they were concentrating too much. I loved to watch the gentleness they held each other with, the spark in their eyes and the ease with which they knew how to follow one's lead. The evening had turned into the late hours of the night, my stomach ached from laughing, but my feet still felt fine as I hadn’t danced just yet. Nobody had approached me and I didn’t want to dance with just anyone, so I also didn’t try to find a dance partner. Despite laughing and conversing with my friends, my eyes often strayed towards the bar, unable to focus on the conversation as I gazed at Mingi, wondering what was going through his mind. He didn’t move from the bar but he did find a seat on a stool, and he didn’t drink more than two pints of beer, but he did eat a pie that looked to be with apples. Nobody approached him and he didn’t approach anyone, he remained alone and stuck to himself as he often would look towards the dancing crowd, picking at the skin around his nails.

Mingi had once used to love to dance, whenever we came here, he wouldn’t sit down for even a second. We never came together, our friend groups were different, but we always somehow stumbled into each other. He had once tried to ask my sister to dance with him, but she gave him a disgusted look and stomped on his feet before storming off towards the boy she was head over heels. Taking pity on Mingi, whose lips were downturned and his head hung low, I told him I really wanted to dance but nobody wanted to dance with me. The joy was back on his face as he took my hand and led me towards the dancing people, blabbering on about his favourite songs and how he had tried playing the guitar before but failed. After that, Mingi always seemed to save me a dance before we’d head home. Perhaps there was one person, after all, that I expected to ask me to dance tonight, and it was Mingi.

I was sat at the table with just two of my friends as they drunkenly tried to ask about how my nursing school was working out, but I barely paid them any mind as I saw two men creeping towards Mingi. They seemed to be drunk too, but they had vicious smirks on their lips and narrowed eyes as they spoke between each other, pointing at Mingi’s back. My jaw clenched when one grabbed his shoulder and yanked him backwards, startling Mingi who almost managed to fall off the stool. The other leaned in uncomfortably close, spatting words in his face as Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed, face falling slowly as fear coated his eyes. Sitting up abruptly and alerting my two friends, I paid them no mind as my legs carried me over to the bar, storming up to Mingi and the two idiots without paying mind to anything else.

“Excuse me.” My voice was loud and harsh as I snapped, jaw clenching when only Mingi seemed to realize I was there too, “Get your hands off him, now.”

And then I grabbed the man’s wrist who still held onto Mingi tightly, making sure to dig my nails into his skin as he yelped, turning around with fury on his face. I didn’t release him, not yet, as his face got red and his chest puffed up, prompting Mingi to slide off his stool, standing tall as he watched the exchange.

“You failed to hear me the first time,” I said, then pushed the man back by his hand before I released it, “surely a woman’s grip didn’t hurt you?”

The man scoffed as his hands balled up into fists, and suddenly Mingi was moving, making me gasp when I felt my back pressing into the bar, body shielded by his much taller and bigger one as he stood in front of me, gripping the other man’s forearm with a sneer on his face, “Don’t touch her.”

Mingi’s voice was low and threatening and it only took seconds for the man to start trembling as he tried to yank his arm free, looking towards his companion with a helpless look. But the man didn’t seem like he wanted to help as he watched Mingi with an open mouth.

“Mingi.” I whispered, scared that this would turn into a really bad scene, something I couldn’t help him get out of like at the Hob, “Would you like to dance with me?”

Mingi froze, dropping the man’s forearm as he turned around, eyebrows furrowed and body too close to mine. I looked up at him, finding myself breathing harder when I felt faint fingertips brushing against my knuckles, making my heart somersault.

“Yes.” And before my mind could register that Mingi had accepted to dance with me, a large hand on my waist was gently veering me around the crowd, leading me towards the dancing one, where the band’s music was louder and everyone was smiling and enjoying themselves. My heart raced in my chest as Mingi led us into the middle of the crowd, coming around me as his eyebrows were furrowed, hands hesitant to touch me anywhere despite having led me here by a hand on my waist. I gulped and raised one hand, deciding to make the first step and offering him a gentle invitation.

I didn’t think he’d actually take me up for a dance, I only said that to de-escalate the situation and to have an excuse for us to walk away from it. But Mingi seemed to take it seriously, his warm and large hand hesitantly slipping into mine. His hand was calloused from wielding a bow and arrow and from working in the back garden too, but his touch remained gentle and mindful. He didn’t wait for me to hold onto his shoulder as he pressed his other hand flatly against my lower back, guiding my body closer to his, but leaving a small gap. I gulped as I looked up, eyebrows furrowed as I fought against the tears that wanted to fill my eyes.

It felt like the world had stopped moving around us, as if the Games never existed, as if the old Mingi was back and my sister was watching us from the sidelines with a displeased look on her face. The tension eased from Mingi’s body and he looked at me with less guilt in his eyes as we made eye contact, but he still swallowed hard, lips parting as his voice was gruff and raspy, “Why are you so kind to me?”

“Because you deserve kindness,” I answered without hesitance, gripping his shoulder and clinging onto him too tightly, having little care about the fact that perhaps this was too much for Mingi, that maybe he didn’t want us standing so close, touching each other in familiar ways. But he remained silent as his body further relaxed, shoulders lowering as I felt his fingers jab into my lower back, with a tug on my belt he closed the gap between our bodies.

I couldn’t breathe all of a sudden, what was supposed to be a dance position felt an awful lot like an attempt at a hug, and I couldn’t breathe as I drowned in Mingi’s closeness, warmth and safety, letting my forehead press against his collarbone as a tear rolled down my cheek.

I hadn’t cried since my sister’s death.

            The days went by quickly here, people were used to their routines and they followed them diligently. Nothing ever interesting or intriguing happened, life was mostly grim and grey. Our District wasn’t well off and there were days when even the wealthiest had to sit back and consider whether throwing out money for luxuries was truly necessary or not. The Hob was filled with more and more people trying to earn a little more in plus, desperate as hungry children hid behind their mothers and hollow-cheeked men tried to be louder so that they’d attract attention upon their stalls. It was a hard-to-swallow picture at times, but it was what I grew up seeing my whole life. I still took pity on everyone, never getting quite used to seeing all the suffering these people had to endure, frequently reminded that I was one of them too, struggling at times to get by. Training to become a nurse had made me realize that I felt fulfilled helping others and that it made me find a purpose other than trying to survive day by day. It gave me hope that if I was capable of helping and healing others, instead of harming them and taking their lives away, then others were capable of taking me as an example to become better and more helpful towards their peers. District 12 had always been forgotten and misjudged by the public—hence why it came as a shock to the Capitol that Mingi was strong and perfectly capable of handling a weapon and defending himself—if our people didn’t stick together, then who would vouch for us?

Helping others, even in the smallest ways like bringing them water or even a slice of bread shouldn’t have been considered something impossible, offering a helping hand to an elderly couple shouldn’t have surprised others when they found out about it. That is why helping the Song family had never seemed like a nuisance to me. Before the Games, it didn’t feel wrong to anyone, but after Mingi returned as a Victor it wasn’t just him who was shunned, his grandparents were too, treated poorly by those who once had happily visited their small patisserie, looking out for the elderly pair who have raised a small child into a fine young man. It was disheartening to watch how the people treated the family, only to realize my own family viewed them the same way. My parents stopped asking about their well-being, about whether Mingi would’ve liked having dinner with us, whether I would go hunt with Mingi and bring back flowers for my sister, they acted as if he never existed. I understood their reasoning, but I couldn’t accept it. They couldn’t blame him for something that was out of his control, for something he was forced to do. That is why I never cared what others thought of me, what they said about me behind my back, whether they judged me or not for keeping in touch with the Song family. Only I could change my mind about them, nothing anyone else said about them could influence me in any way.

That is why I continued to stick around, that is why I visited them weekly to make sure the elderly couple was healthy and Mingi wasn’t cooped up in his room all the time. Today, just shy of a week since Mingi and I had danced at The Hut, I stopped by to see whether Mrs. Song needed help with house maintenance. I memorised the days she liked to clean the house, opening all windows and dusting off all shelves, moping the floors clean and baking something delicious for her husband and grandchild. The blueberry muffins were in the oven, their aroma making my stomach churn as Mrs. Song was perched on a chair, rearranging a shelf of books as she carefully cradled their spines, smiling whenever she opened a book, flipping through pages that were yellow already. I was sat on the windowsill as I cleaned the hinges of the window with a green rag, humming to myself as the birds outside chirped loudly, making me smile. Mr. Song had ventured inside the District, looking for trinkets as he was building a small jewellery box and needed something to decorate it with. If Mingi wasn’t home during the day, he most certainly was out hunting, so I didn’t have to ask Mrs. Song about his whereabouts.

“The Capitol people are coming next week and they’ll be here for a few days,” Mrs. Song spoke up as I felt her eyes on me, “you shouldn’t come over, for your own safety. They are curious people and they always ask questions, they always pester Mingi whether he has someone or not. There’s—bad people in the Capitol who tried to buy him but Haymitch didn’t let them, it’s a dangerous world. Mingi wouldn’t want you involved either.”

I gulped, gut coiling upon hearing people tried to buy him as if he wasn’t a living person with a will and control over his own choices, it didn’t sit well with me, “Is something the matter?”

“No, the Reaping is getting closer and President Snow wants to showcase last year’s Victor.” Mrs. Song sighed and carefully got off the chair, sitting on it instead, “Update the public about what he’s been up to lately and how he’s doing, it’s all for show, really. But Mingi hates it, he’s been more—silent and avoidant, he doesn’t leave his room so often anymore. I know he’s scared, he’s dreading the Reaping. He will probably have to go as a Mentor this year and he doesn’t want to. The nightmares are back too, I don’t know how to be there for him anymore. I don’t know what to do to reassure him anymore.”

A feeling of sadness permeated my whole being as I closed the window, shiny and as good as new as I faced Mrs. Song, “He knows you’re trying your best, and he’s trying his best too. Just let him be and offer him a shoulder to lean on when he comes to you, I think he’s gotten better at coping. I can make a tea for him, to sleep better and have less nightmares, if you want me to.”

“I’ll ask him about it.” Mrs. Song smiled and stood, bringing the chair back to its spot in the kitchen. I drew the curtains together and grabbed the rag to bring it to the bathroom and wash it clean, but as I stepped into the hallway, the front door opened and Mingi stepped through the threshold. His black hair was dishevelled and his attire was completely green, his jacket undone and t-shirt underneath muddy as he kicked his dirty shoes off by the door. He hadn’t noticed me yet as he held a wild duck in his hand, an arrow still lodged in its heart.

“’Ma, I’m—” When he looked up his body tensed, eyes stopping on me. I stood up a bit straighter and offered him a small welcoming smile.

“Hello.” I greeted, holding the rag with both hands in front of me. It’s been a week since we danced together and he hadn’t been as tense around me as before, he spoke a bit more, but he still kept his distance. He didn’t look at me for too long, but his eyes looked less haunted whenever he did, “How was your hunt?”

Mingi swallowed then his eyes looked down at his hands, the dead duck wasn’t dripping blood on the clean floor at least, “Short, but I caught something at least.”

“That’s good,” I smiled a bit wider, “your grandma will make a delicious stew out of it, I’m sure.”

Mingi hummed as his eyes were stuck on the arrow that went through the duck’s heart as if he was unable to look away. His thick brows furrowed and his jaw clenched, but he abruptly raised his head, eyes hard and body alarmed as I tried to stand as unthreateningly as I could. I didn’t want to trigger any memory if able, so I looked to the side as Mingi’s eyes continued boring into the side of my face, “Would you—would you like to—if my grandma makes stew, would you—the duck I caught, I—I’m sorry.”

Silence stretched between us as I sighed, not annoyed and neither tired, just feeling defeated when I chanced a glance at Mingi. He looked disappointed as he chewed on his bottom lip, shoulders hunched forward again as his bangs fell into his eyes, “Would you like me to come over for lunch if your grandma makes stew, Mingi?”

He stiffened, flinching slightly, but he wordlessly nodded slowly, looking at me through his eyelashes. I chuckled and nodded, feeling like we had just taken an immense step towards finding common ground again, towards reestablishing what we once had, “Alright, I’ll come over if you still want me to.”

“I will.” Mingi said hurriedly, I had barely finished talking, “I won’t change my mind.”

I felt my chest slowly warm up as my smile slightly faltered, forcefully ignoring the need to walk over and hug him, inhale his earthy scent and thank him for trying to mend our lost relationship. I nodded, eyes boring into his as Mingi nodded back, shifting on his feet as if he didn’t know what to say more or what to do next. But to his luck, Mrs. Song had just walked out of the kitchen, eyes widening in delight when she noticed her grandson, “Mingi! You’re back! Go wash up, you can take care of the duck afterwards.”

Mingi nodded and walked further inside the house, making sure to avoid touching me when he passed by me as I pressed myself up against the wall. I watched him press a quick kiss against his grandmother’s cheek and then disappear inside the kitchen before he raced up the stairs without looking back. Mrs. Song chuckled before she looked at me with a knowing look in her eyes, then pointed towards the bathroom, “Were you headed in there?”

“Yes, do you need anything?” I asked as I approached her, trying to stop my eyes from gazing up at the stairs as Mingi’s loud footsteps thudded against the floorboards as he entered his room, closing the door loudly.

“I will hang up the laundry, can you bring Mingi’s clothes up to him after you’ve washed the rag?” Mrs. Song had a sweet smile on her lips as I nodded, setting into motion as I headed inside the bathroom, “My knees are old, my dear, they don’t function as well as yours or my grandson’s…”

I heard Mrs. Song mutter to herself as I chuckled quietly, nearing the sink as I looked up, met with my reflection in the mirror up on the wall. I turned on the faucet without looking down, my eyes a dark colour but under the sunlight a blazing amber—if I believed what everyone has always told me—and my short hair was braided behind my ears as that’s how far I could actually braid the strands. The two ponytails that sat at my nape were small and sometimes managed to tickle me, but I didn’t mind them, the hairstyle was practical and looked cute. I didn’t like my hair getting in my eyes when I was working with my patients, and today had been a rather packed day at the Nursery before I could leave to help Mrs. Song out.

The water was warm against my skin as I rinsed the rag out, carefully hanging it on the side of the bathtub, eyes looking around the bathroom in search of Mingi’s freshly folded clothes. They were placed on top of a low stool behind the door and I went and grabbed them, fingers curling into the soft fabric of the shirt that was at the bottom of the pile. They smelled fresh, devoid of the earthy scent Mingi usually carried with himself, a tinge of citrus could be smelt in the fabric as I brought it up to my nose, taking a deep inhale. Realizing that what I was doing was probably inappropriate, I stopped myself and rolled my shoulders back, trying to stop the blush from spreading widely onto my cheeks.

Mrs. Song was outside in the back garden as I headed for the stairs, the double doors opened and the curtains fluttered as the wind blew inside, Mrs. Song’s pleasant singing voice carried by the wind made me smile. I carefully walked up the stairs, which were made of marble like the rest of the ground floor’s flooring, and was met with pictures hung on the wall of the Song family. There were some older ones, black and white, and some newer ones where Mingi was small and smiling widely as his parents held his hands, his mother’s smile a perfect replica of Mingi’s. Mingi was the perfect mixture of his parents’ traits, but he seemed to take slightly more after his father, who had the same small and sharp eyes as his son, his nose long and tall. I was familiar with the pictures, I’ve seen them numerous times in the Song’s old house, but it brought comfort seeing them once again. The Victor houses were devoid of colours and any life, they exuberated coldness and stripped the home of any cosiness. It felt nice to see Mrs. Song trying to bring it more life with the pictures, her favourite paintings that were family heirlooms and carpets that she and Mr. Song had inherited over the years, with flowers littered around every part of the house.

I knocked on Mingi’s door, his bedroom was the last in the hallway and faced towards the forest, unsurprisingly, but there was no answer. Trying again, not intending to intrude on his privacy, I knocked some more but there was still no answer. I grabbed the doorknob and whispered his name as I poked my head inside just a little, only to realise he wasn’t in the room. Eyes widening, I pushed the door further open and froze, taken aback by what I was seeing. I had never stepped foot inside Mingi’s bedroom ever since he moved inside this house, but upon one glance, it was a replica of his old bedroom. Even the way his things were positioned was the same, his furniture the same, the only difference being the white walls while in his old bedroom, they were grey and the paint was chapped, falling off in some places. It smelled like musk and something citrusy inside, perhaps oranges, as I let the door close behind me, a single lamp lit on his desk despite it being daytime. His blackout curtains were drawn together, but based on the volume of the birds chirping, I could tell the windows were open. Walking further inside, I noticed a small notebook opened on top of his desk, a pencil on the floor and the beginning of a sketch that looked an awful lot like the meadow.

There was a thud behind me and as I turned around, I just realized there was a door inside the room, closed but light flooded out from underneath it. Deciding to place the clothes on Mingi’s bed, I took off towards it just as the door opened and warm steam wafted outside of it. Freezing, I opened my mouth to quickly explain myself but was caught off guard by what I saw. Mingi, still oblivious to my presence fumbled with the light switch as he stepped outside of the joint bathroom, hair dripping wet and torso bare as a black towel hung low on his hips. His cheeks were flushed and the water from his hair dropped to his wide shoulders, quickly trailing down his broad chest, between his pecks until they disappeared into the towel. The beginning of a happy trail started just where the towel concealed his lower body and I gasped, turning my head away when I felt my whole face on fire.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were showering!” My voice was high-pitched, flustered and sounded embarrassed too, “Your grandmother asked me to bring up your clothes and I—I knocked, I really did but you didn’t answer and I—I’m sorry. I really am, I’ll go, I just—”

My heart was beating so fast and loud, I was sure Mingi could hear it too in the silence that followed my frantic explanation, hands slightly shaking as I placed the pile of clothes on his bed, clumsily knocking some over. Letting out a frustrated huff, I fumbled around as I grabbed them, folding them again as I tried to ignore Mingi’s frozen form in the room, dark eyes trained on my body, watching me wordlessly.

“You can leave them, I have to put them away either way.” Mingi’s voice was deep, tone light despite our predicament. I gulped and stopped, closing my eyes as I took a deep breath, steeling my nerves before I stood up straight, letting go of the short-sleeved white shirt I was about to fold.

“I’m sorry.” I apologized again, keeping my eyes glued to the floorboards, “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know.” It was unlike Mingi to cut me off, especially with so much understanding in his voice. He hadn’t talked to me like that since the Games, he hadn’t kept his eyes so insistently on me ever since the Games. My cheeks were still burning, not because I caught Mingi half-naked, but instead because he wasn’t looking away, he was trying to catch my gaze as he lowered his eyes, “Thank you.”

My muscles became tense, eyebrows slightly furrowing as I licked my lips, not quite understanding what he was saying thank you for so earnestly. I hadn’t done anything of great importance, I just merely brought his clothes up for him because his grandmother was old and probably struggled scaling the stairs so many times a day. Willing myself to look up, to tell him that he didn’t have to thank me for something so simple, the words got stuck in my throat as we made eye contact. His face looked relaxed, wet strands falling onto his forehead in a way that didn’t obscure his vision and he wasn’t hyperventilating and neither looking uncomfortable. I gulped, opening my mouth to say something, but my eyes slipped and landed on his left arm where a big red gash stood out strikingly against his tan complex. My eyebrows furrowed as I continued looking at it, and when Mingi realized, he hid his arm behind his back.

“When did you get that?” I asked, concern lacing my voice.

“Yesterday.” Mingi’s answer was short, voice once again void of any emotion.

“Did you treat it?”

“Washed it with warm water.”

“That’s not good enough,” I muttered, eyebrows furrowing in worry as I looked back up at him, “you need to disinfect it and put ointment on it, you should also probably wrap it up with gauze too.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve survived worse.” I knew he didn’t mean to sound so aggressive as he said that because he flinched, his right hand balling up into a fist as he averted his eyes, turning his head to the side.

“I know,” I whispered, but I wasn’t about to let him walk around with a fresh cut, “but you need to treat that. I’ll be right back.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to—” But I was out the door before he could finish his sentence, hurrying down the long hallway and then skipping down the stairs as Mrs. Song remained outside, now sitting in a chair as she watched the bees that flew onto the flowers in her garden, a content smile on her lips. I rushed towards the downstairs bathroom and opened the cabinet above the bathtub, grabbing the distilled water, saline solution, a soothing ointment I learned how to make from my sister, and some gauze. As I left the bathroom and raced back up the stairs, I heard the front door opening, meaning that Mr. Song had also returned home. In my rush to get back to Mingi and treat his fresh wound, I forgot to knock to warn him that I was heading in, but thankfully he was fully dressed and sitting on his bed, left leg bent while the right one hung off the side of the bed. He looked up alarmed as I heaved a sigh, closing the door behind me and placing everything on the bed in front of Mingi as I neared him.

“May I wash my hands in your bathroom?” Mingi didn’t hesitate to nod and I quickly went inside and washed my hands thoroughly with soap, letting them dry on their own as I walked back inside his room, pulling the bathroom door closed with my foot. Mingi watched me, neck craned as I stopped next to him staring down at the bed as I debated whether I should ask him to turn around or sit opposite him. Deciding that he looked comfortable and I didn’t want to bother him, I got on the bed across from him, sitting on my knees as I lowered myself on my legs, looking down at the solutions I brought, “May I see the wound?”

Mingi froze for a second, but he didn’t stall for long as he extended his arm, shuffling closer when he realized we sat too far from each other. He gulped, loudly, but I ignored it as I grabbed his arm and pulled it towards my lap, eyebrows furrowing as I inspected it. The skin wasn’t red around it, thankfully, but the wound seemed rather irritated. I looked at him for a brief second, surprised to find Mingi looking at me intensely, “May I touch you?”

“Yes.” His voice was low and raspy as he answered, and he tensed when I hummed, looking back down at the wound. I sighed and gently traced the skin around the wound, making sure there were no bumps or smaller cuts before I grabbed some gauze and poured distilled water on it. Mingi helped me uncap the bottle and then held it for me as I placed his arm back in my lap, gently tapping the gauze on the wound, knowing that it probably wouldn’t hurt him. He remained silent and I didn’t speak up despite wanting to ask questions about how he got this wound, I just handed him back the lid and he lidded the bottle before putting it aside.

“This might sting a bit,” I warned him as I grabbed the saline solution and opened the bottle, pausing to look at him, “did the soap sting?”

“Yeah, yesterday,” Mingi mumbled and looked away, lowering his head as his shoulders were hunched forward. His hair was damp, but at least water wasn’t dripping everywhere from it anymore. He wore fluffy trousers and a white t-shirt which was a bit tight and clung to his body, enunciating his scrawny but broad form. I hummed and tapped his wrist to warn him that I would pour the saline solution on the open wound now, which thankfully didn’t need stitches as it wasn’t deep enough. The muscles of Mingi’s arm tensed when the solution reached his wound, but he made no sounds. I made sure to pour only as much as was needed to disinfect the wound and glanced up at him, finding his jaw clenched and nose scrunched up as he stared down at his lap. Closing the saline solution bottle, I grabbed a clean gauze and folded it so that I could tap it against his skin. We remained silent as I worked slowly and carefully, not wanting to cause more discomfort. I felt Mingi’s eyes on me when I placed the bottles aside and grabbed the small can, my hand falling next to his as I paused.

“This won’t sting, it’ll help ease any discomfort and soothe the burn.” I informed him and then opened the can, taking a copious amount of ointment on my fingers before I started rubbing it into the wound, not pressing it too much as I knew it would hurt, “You should use this three times a day until it fades into a scar, and if you go hunting, you should wrap it up with gauze for some extra protection. If anything gets into it, it might get infected. I should check up on it in two weeks, but if it starts bothering you in any way, let me know as fast as possible, okay?”

I looked at Mingi with raised eyebrows and he nodded wordlessly as I sighed, glad that I could help. I closed the small can and placed it next to his knee so that he’d put it away somewhere where it was close by, and prepared to grab the dirty gauze and bottles, when long and thick fingers curled around my right wrist, halting my movements. I froze, staring ahead at Mingi’s chest as it was rising and falling rhythmically. His head was still lowered, eyes obscured as his big hand felt cold against my skin, the hold gentle and not bruising.

“Thank you.” I smiled and nodded with a hum, letting my eyes rest on his face, which he was trying to hide.

“Of course, Mingi.” But maybe I said something wrong because his head snapped up, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes searched mine, lips pursed as he looked confused and even annoyed.

“Why are you so nice to me, Y/N?” He asked, voice shaking as his fingers uncurled from my wrist, dropping down between us, accidentally brushing against my knee.

“Because you deserve kindness,” I wanted Mingi to understand that he wasn’t different than anyone else, that he was a person who deserved to be treated well and with love and tenderness, “Because you’re a human being with feelings and thoughts and struggles just like everyone else. You don’t deserve to be treated badly for what you were forced to do, everyone would’ve done the same if they were in your place, Mingi. You’re gentle and compassionate, you’re easily spooked and you’re clumsy despite being tall and strong, you listen to others and you help them. You’re kind and you’re a good person despite what others might think and say now about you. You’ve always picked me up when I fell, you never laughed when I didn’t know something, you waited for me when nobody else did, and you never seemed to forget about me when everyone else did.”

My breath hitched in my throat when Mingi’s hand raised, warm and hesitant as it cupped my right cheek, his fingers burning my skin as I continued speaking, “I’m not scared of you Mingi, you’ll always be the shy little boy to me who carried me on his back when my feet started hurting and pulled on my hair when I threatened to fall asleep in classes. Nothing will change that, not even you pushing me away.”

I watched as Mingi’s eyes got teary, his bottom lip shaking as his hand fell from my cheek, making me miss his warmth as I almost grabbed onto his hand to press it back against my skin, yearning for his touch. But he only hunched more into himself, shoulders shaking, and I knew he wanted to be alone, with nobody to see him as he became vulnerable and emotional. Gathering the things I brought with myself beside the ointment, I left the room, leaving him alone to mule over the words I had said to me.

I could only hope he would start believing them

            And maybe my words did get through to him because the next time the two of us were out in the forest to hunt, we ran into each other and instead of him running away like always, he stopped walking and waited for me to reach him. He was just about to jump over the fence when he glanced over his shoulder and spotted my approaching form. I smiled widely at him and waved as I hurried my steps, holding onto the bow that was around my shoulders, ten arrows sitting in the holster by my hip. Mingi’s bow was around his shoulders too, but his holster was next to it instead of it being on his hip, and he wore his green jacket and black-coloured pants. It was a sunny day today, so I didn’t wear my usual hunting gear, just a light blouse that had to be laced up at the chest and trousers that once belonged to my sister.

“Hello, Y/N.” I froze when I heard him greet me, usually not being the first one to acknowledge my existence. My smile became wider as I had to look up at him, shielding my eyes with a hand as the sun shone down on us brightly.

“Mingi, hi!” My tone was laced with enthusiasm, and despite Mingi not smiling, I could tell by his expression that he wasn’t in a displeased mood, “Did you just arrive?”

“Yes, I planned to hunt for a few hours today, it’s too warm to sit by the house.” It was a long sentence, a longer answer, something that hadn’t happened in a long time. I tried to tell my racing heart to calm down, to savour the moment while it lasted. In his eyes, which were lighter under the bright sunlight, I recognized the spark which was always present in the Mingi before he left for the Games.

“I agree, it’s even worse further into the District,” I nodded and grabbed the fence, “Would you…like to hunt with me?”

It was a bold offer, I knew it could sour Mingi’s mood rather quickly, but I could only hope he wouldn’t turn me down. I missed hunting with someone, I missed the dynamic that came when you had someone next to you, how much more silent you needed to be, more careful and more vigilant. I used to hunt with my sister almost daily, we’d sneak out when our parents were busy and would only return by nightfall. Once, we ventured further into the forest, far from the meadow, and discovered that there was a small but beautiful lake an hour away. We rarely went out there, out of fear of the Capitol watching over it, but I cherished the memories we shared there with my sister.

“Yes, we could hunt together.” Mingi’s answer was unexpected, and my eyes widened as I looked up at him, trying to read his expression but it didn’t say much. He nodded more to himself before he gripped the fence and pulled himself up halfway, jumping over it and landing with precision, it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d done it. Knowing that I’d never be able to jump over it, I crouched and pulled on the fence just underneath the sign that warned us of high voltage, creating a gap where I could go through. Mingi watched with surprise as I came up next to him, pushing the fence back so that it wouldn’t be visible that there was a passageway.

“Was that always there?” Mingi asked amazed, still looking at the fence as I readjusted my blouse.

“Yes,” I said with a chuckle, taking off towards the trees, “I’m too short to jump over the fence, did you think I did the same as you to get out?”

“Yes?” Mingi asked as he averted his eyes, cheeks dusted pink as he made me chuckle. I bumped my shoulder into his as we walked further inside the forest, covered by the shade of trees which brought me instant relief as sweat had broken out on my forehead and temples. I patted them off with the sleeve of my blouse and grabbed onto my belt as we walked around bushes and stepped over fallen logs, hiding behind a boulder as we spotted a deer. Our breaths were synchronised as Mingi and I peeked out above the boulder, watching the pretty deer as it remained oblivious to our presence. Mingi’s fingers tightened around his bow as he exhaled, and I turned my head to watch him curiously. We had to remain silent in order not to alert our prey, but I couldn't help myself.

“Will you claim it?” I whispered, the sound quiet as Mingi took his bottom lip between his teeth, his head turning. Our faces were close as he exhaled, the warm air brushing against my cheeks, but he shook his head.

“I don’t hunt deer anymore, they are too beautiful,” Mingi answered, voice less cautious as the deer’s head snapped up and looked around, aware that it wasn’t alone anymore. I didn’t say anything for a second, just savoured our closeness and Mingi’s musky scent combined with the earth around us, as our eyes bore into each other. I hummed and faced the deer at last, watching as it continued eating once it decided that it wasn’t in danger.

“Should we head further in, then?” I raised an eyebrow, a friendly smile settling on my lips, “Find the wild ducks?”

Mingi and I made brief eye contact as he nodded, and then we both straightened up and stepped around the boulder, alerting the deer and making it run off in fright. My eyes followed it, remembering the one time my sister ruthlessly hunted down one of them, telling me that an animal was a source of food no matter how pretty as I started crying while I watched it die. I didn’t join my sister for a week after that incident, and I felt warmness spread through my chest that now I knew Mingi didn’t like hunting them either. Wild ducks were a little bit easier to hunt, at the beginning I wasn’t keen on capturing them, but famish was horrible and it made us do things we didn’t want to.

I followed after Mingi in silence as he jumped over rocks and logs, navigating his way around the forest as if it was his second home—which it might’ve been at this point—watching closely the way he moved, the way he carried himself. His shoulders were pulled back and his back was straight, he moved with elegance and confidence as he pushed the branches of a tree to the side, waiting for me and holding it for me as well. His muscles weren’t too tense and he seemed to be at ease as a small smile played at his lips, probably subconsciously, as his sharp eyes surveyed the place every other minute, looking for the wild ducks but also to spot any other possible prey. A red fox jumped in front of us and made me gasp as I didn’t expect it, and once Mingi’s initial shock was gone and he lowered the protective arm he’d put in front of me, he grinned at the fox and stomped his foot once, making it run off. I curled my palms into fists when our knuckles brushed together as we walked side by side, trying to fight the urge to hold onto his hand and intertwine our fingers. I missed holding his big hands, feeling their callousness and the few silver rings he wore dig into my skin.

Mingi slowed his steps when he spotted the wild ducks and I made sure to remain quiet as I watched mine too. He motioned behind a tree and we lowered ourselves behind it, peeking out at the ducks from both sides of the trunk. Mingi faced me with a questioning expression and I nodded once as I moved slowly and silently, taking my bow and an arrow as I hooked it, getting in a better position to pull it back. Mingi watched me closely as my muscles tensed and my arm pulled even further back, lips brushing against the arrow as Mingi hummed once, throwing a pebble to make the ducks fly off. I sprung up and locked onto my prey, letting go of the arrow at once as we watched it shoot straight at a wild duck, hitting it and making it fall onto the forest ground. My heart was beating fast, making my body warm as my blood flowed faster, cheeks tinged red as I smiled widely, pulling another arrow to shoot another duck that wasn’t spooked and remained behind. I hit that one too, and wondered when Mingi would shoot his own shot, but when my head turned to look at him, he was frozen and his eyes were wide. His knuckles were white as he had grabbed onto the tree tightly, breathing faster than before.

Realizing that something wasn’t right, I lowered my bow and scootched closer to him, “Mingi?”

My voice was quiet and cautious as Mingi mumbled to himself, seemingly stuck somewhere inside his mind as his body shivered, “No.”

I realized he was having a flashback when he gasped loudly and stood up straight abruptly, shaking his head more feverishly, “No! Stop, no!”

I let my bow fall to the ground as I stepped closer, trying to stabilize my breaths, “Mingi, focus on me. Listen to my voice—”

“No, she’s dead!” He screamed, voice raw and raspy as he faced me frantically, his body shaking, “I—the arrow—I killed her, she’s—she’s bleeding, I—”

“Mingi!” My tone was higher as I grabbed his wrist tightly and stared up into his eyes, “Snap out of it, it’s not real. We’re in the forest—”

“No, I killed her. She’s dead, you—you are dead, I—” Mingi gasped loudly and tried to yank his wrist free, but I grabbed onto his arms and yanked him closer to myself, forcing him to remain by my side.

“I’m not her.” My voice was harsh, eyebrows furrowed, “It’s me, Y/N, we’re back in District 12, in the forest, hunting. It was a wild duck, Mingi.”

It took him a few seconds to realize I was saying the truth, that the face which was talking to him wasn’t that of my dead twin sister’s, but of the girl he left behind when he left for the Games, the girl who he abandoned when he returned, “Mingi.”

“Why?” His voice was shaky and he suddenly stepped closer, all up in my personal space. I had to crane my neck back to look up at him, “Why are you doing this? Why are you still here? Why do you talk to me? Why don’t you hate me? Why don’t you—just kill me?!”

His tone rose with each desperate question, his bottom lip shaking as his eyes filled with tears, his chest rising and falling rapidly, “What do you want from me? Just let me—hate me, Y/N, shun me away, scream at me and slap me, I—I don’t deserve any kindness. I don’t deserve you anymore, I’m a monster. I’m a criminal, I murdered her, I shot the arrow straight through her heart. I have no future, I’m a nobody, I don’t deserve to be alive, why are you still with me?!”

“Mingi!” I screamed, making him flinch as I shook his hands off my arms and cupped his cheeks instead, pulling his head down to be eye level with me, “Look me in the eyes, Mingi.”

But he didn’t, he looked at the ground and shook his head, sniffing loudly as my jaw clenched, “Look me in the eyes, I said, Song Mingi.”

I had never spoken to him harshly, I had never demanded anything of him before, and upon hearing my tone and words, his eyes snapped up, wide and shaking, “Look at me. My eyes are dark, just like yours, hers were light like the sky during the day. My hair is short and wavy, hers was long and straight, always in a perfect bun while mine is almost impossible to tame. I’m tall, she was shorter and always complained about it. My voice is higher-pitched and warmer, more comforting, hers was raspy and always demanding, always ordering something. We smell different, she loved flowers and smelled like them, and I hate flowers and would rather cover myself in mud than smell like it. My body is covered in moles and hers barely had three, all on her face meanwhile mine has none. I like to read about nature and birdwatch as well as stargaze and braid hair, she hated reading and she only watched the night sky because she knew I loved it, she never braided her hair because the strands were too thin and would constantly fall out. I want to heal and help people because I love our humanity and I’m conscious that we are here one day and the next maybe not, she wanted to heal people because it made her feel like she had control over life, because she never got to control her own life, Mingi.

“She was mean to you and she didn’t like you, she pushed you around and made fun of you whenever she could. I never did, I always wanted to be by your side, I wanted to talk to you and listen to your stories, I wanted to shield you from her harsh words. You wanted to dance with her, but she always refused, so I took her place hoping it’d make you happy since I looked like her, I hoped you’d be able to imagine it was her and not me. I help your grandparents because I want to and because I care about them, not because our parents sent us over to your house to help you out, I didn’t do it because I knew our mother would buy us new dresses. I don’t want to see you in pain and agony over having killed my twin sister, Mingi, I have never hated you for it, and I have never resented you for what you had done, so please, stop seeing her in me and look at me. See me, Mingi, please.”

Mingi was crying by the time I was done talking, his body shaking as he forced his eyes shut, his tears wetting my hands as I rubbed the skin under his eyes as his arms no longer lay limply by his side but circled my waist and pulled me into him, embracing me in a tight hug as I let him burry his head in my neck, heart-wrenching sobs leaving his mouth as I ran my fingers through his smooth hair, allowing him to let out all the grief and pain he’s felt and tried to push down.

“I forgive you, Mingi,” I said it because I knew it was what he needed to hear and not because he had anything to be forgiven for, “for everything.”

He nodded his head frantically as he continued crying, fingers digging into my blouse desperately as his loud sobs echoed around us, a few Mockingjays picking up on it and carrying it further inside the forest. I hugged him closer to my body when his muscles started easing up and I massaged his scalp when his sobs started vanning, hiccups and sniffing following it, tight embrace turning into comfortable body warmth that screamed out for companionship.

And I knew he’d get better, he was strong, and he was no pawn of the Capitol.

2 months later

            The sun had lost some of its warmth now that autumn was approaching and I didn’t feel ready to let go of the lush green scenery, of the forest that brought such huge refuge and safety. The meadow was full of blooming colours, of flowers that made me sneeze, of bees that were loud and made Mingi jump every time they flew past him. I had my eyes closed as I played with the petal of a Musk Mallow, the person lying next to me fidgeting every few seconds as he was afraid of bugs. I had a smile on my face as he finally sighed and gave up, sitting up as he pulled his knees into his chest. The Reaping was tomorrow, the Peacekeepers were getting the square ready, and the train bringing the Capitol people would arrive tomorrow. Effie Trinket would act like picking a boy and girl for the Games was normal and Haymitch would be probably black-out drunk while Mingi would stand on the podium shaking and looking sickly pale.

“I’m scared.” As if hearing my thoughts, he whispered, “I’m not ready to return, I don’t want to go back, Y/N.”

“They will never make you go back into the Games.” I tried to remind him.

“I know, I just can’t watch a child I know attempt to train for something that will lead to their dismay.” Mingi’s voice was defeated as I blinked my eyes open, raising my hand to shield them from the sun.

“Perhaps District 12 will have another Victor, Mingi, have more faith in them.” I tried to sound encouraging, but I knew it was of no use. Mingi and my sister got reaped when they were eighteen, what was supposed to be their last year participating in the Reaping. The odds were rarely in our favour.

“I can’t be a mentor, it’s too soon.” Mingi pressed his forehead against his knees, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. I sighed and followed him, sitting up as I pulled something out of my pocket.

“You’ll be fine, you won’t be alone and you’ll be a good mentor, Mingi.” I said with an encouraging smile as he turned his head to look at me, “They won’t hurt you at the Capitol, they can’t. Remember, you are your own master and you can’t let President Snow get inside your head. You did well when they came to take the interview all those months ago, you’ll be able to ace this too. I believe in you, Mingi.”

He bit his bottom lip, eyes searching my face before they settled on my own, our gazes boring together as I looked down at my hands, playing with the single pearl on the bracelet. Taking a deep breath, I looked back up at Mingi and smiled at him softly, extending my hand with the bracelet towards him, “For you, as a token of good luck and trust, because I trust you and I—I’ll be here, home, waiting for you to return to me, Mingi.”

Gaze softening as he straightened up, he took the bracelet from me, his warm fingers grazing my palm as they curled around the bracelet, a small happy smile spreading onto his lips. He looked at it for another long moment, inspecting the pearl just like I had done after I brought it home, and then he looked up again, turning his head to face me. His voice was barely a whisper, “I’ll miss you, Y/N, so much.”

I smiled and released a quiet breath as Mingi leaned closer, supporting himself with a hand as my eyes fluttered closed, his plump lips hovering just for a second before they pressed against mine firmly. They were warm and not as chapped as they usually were since I had made him an ointment to use, and they were soft and tasted of the chamomile tea his grandmother made us drink before we headed for the meadow. I kissed back with passion, hoping it would convey all the unspoken things, all the words I wasn’t able to say yet, but would say when the timing was right. His kisses were always careful and gentle, like him, hesitant until his brain registered that I wanted him just as much as he wanted me, only becoming firm and demanding when he couldn’t withhold himself anymore. I smiled as we pulled back, our lips making a funny sound when Mingi chased after mine and pressed a loud quick kiss against them again, making himself blush and giggle as he turned his head, gazing out towards the trees and shade.

“I’ll take care of your grandparents in your absence,” I promised as I offered him my hand, heart leaping in my chest when his longer and thicker fingers slipped between mine, intertwining with confidence and conviction.

“Thank you, they’ll probably ask you to sleep over sometimes.” Mingi said, his thumb rubbing my knuckle as I squeezed his hand, “They don’t like the quiet when it’s just the two of them.”

“I’ll make sure to spend the night from time to time,” I promised again with a smile on my lips as Mingi and I glanced at each other, settling into a comfortable silence as I helped him wear the bracelet before we scooted closer to each other, hands still intertwined and gazing forward at the serene nature, the deer that played around oblivious to our presence, the leaves that were moved by the wind.

There were days when things were harder to cope with, when Mingi couldn’t get out of bed and when he didn’t want to see anyone, but there were days when Mingi couldn’t stop laughing, when he cradled me against his chest and told me he loved me, when he promised to marry me if our world miraculously changed for the better. I knew it wouldn’t be easy to remain by his side, that we’d both be faced with challenges and hardships, judged by our people and by the Capitol, but we didn’t care. Something that we both loved and cherished had been ripped from us by tyrants, my sister and his innocence, we’d stop bowing down to the pressure to live a life that we didn’t want.

And, sometime in the near future, we both knew that dire days were coming before a bright and free future,

“And the Tributes from District 12 of the 74th Hunger Games are…Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark!” ~ Suzanne Collins

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[magniloquent-raven]

Day 4: Supportive Boyfriends

and for my next (LATE, SO LATE) @bucktommypositivityweek contribution. KITTEN FIC.

(read on ao3)

**

The 118 doesn't have a baby box.

In fact there aren't any in the state of California at all. Buck looked it up, after Maddie's postpartum episode. When half his family was missing and there wasn't much he could do besides wait and... think about things.

So he thought about safe haven laws. Read up on the training seminars for first responders who want to be better equipped to deal with hand-offs. Read a bunch of other stuff he sort of wishes he hadn't. Spent the next week haunted by articles about abandoned children.

He considered talking to Bobby about it. Only partly to ask him if they should get a box for the firehouse. Partly because Buck wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing, and Bobby always seemed to have answers. But he never worked up the nerve to broach the subject.

And now. Bobby's not captain anymore, and Buck really can't imagine Gerrard giving a shit about any of this.

So, they don't have a box. But.

Well, this isn't a human baby. It's not like the same rules apply.

Buck has to wonder if wires got crossed somewhere, because. Someone left a kitten. Outside the firehouse.

Buck was just going to grab something—he can't remember what—from his Jeep, when he spotted an unlabelled cardboard box on the pavement, up against the side of the building. His first thought was bomb.

Until it meowed at him. A tiny, high-pitched peep of a meow.

Kind of scared the shit out of him, if he's being honest.

There's only one. All alone in the box. A poofy grey thing wriggling around half buried in an off-white towel. Like a very ambitious dust bunny with big round blue eyes and skinny legs. It wobbles slowly over a fold in the towel with all the effort of someone scaling a mountain.

Buck crouches next to the box, and pokes a finger inside.

"Hey, buddy," he murmurs, holding very still while the kitten inches towards his hand and squeaks. It's unclear whether there are teeth in that little maw. That means it's really young, right? Too young to be left alone for very long.

Shit, how is he going to explain this to Gerrard? He's still got, like, 12 hours left on his shift, but someone has to feed this thing. How long can kittens go without food?

Oh, it does have teeth. Really teeny ones. They're ineffectively poking his knuckle.

Buck fishes his phone out of his jacket—with the hand that isn't currently being drooled on—intending to go to Google for answers. How to figure out how old a kitten is. How often do kittens need to be fed. Do cats get separation anxiety. He has a million questions.

Only he doesn't pull up his browser. He calls Tommy.

It's a whim. Barely a seed of an idea. But when he unlocked his phone the first thing he saw was their text history (he'd been complaining about Gerrard off-and-on all morning, and Tommy had been sending random updates about all the chores he'd been getting done—his last message was a picture of a mop with no context) and he just thought... Tommy will know what to do. Not in so many words, more a feeling. Comfort and certainty, just from seeing Tommy's picture in a little bubble at the top of his screen.

"Evan?" Tommy answers almost immediately, and there's a subtle undercurrent of worry in his tone. Buck winces. Right, calling out of the blue while he's at work would look. Bad.

"I'm okay!" He says quickly, all in one breath. Then pauses. The kitten squints up at him, meowing again, long and loud. Its whole fluffy face scrunches with the effort.

"...What was that?"

"Uh. That would be why I called, actually."

—

Gerrard is less of an obstacle than Buck feared he'd be. Because he's holed up in his office doing paperwork when Buck sneaks in with the kitten, and Buck's decided he has no intention of letting him know the cat was ever here.

Tommy promised he'd come get her.

Buck didn't even really ask, and wasn't planning on asking. Didn't have any plan whatsoever, in fact. He just wanted to know if Tommy knew anything about taking care of kittens, and suddenly Tommy's voluntarily sacrificing the rest of his day off to scope out vets and pet supply stores and whatever else Buck's helpless little friend might need.

He hung up hours ago and his insides still feel warm and goopy about it. He can't stop thinking about the gentle fondness that softened Tommy's voice after Buck explained the situation. Buck would wrap himself up in it like a blanket if he could.

Tommy's getting so kissed when he shows up.

In the meantime, Buck's sitting upstairs, working his way through the dozen or so tabs he opened up after googling kitten care.

He thinks the one he found might be around three weeks old (ears not quite unfurled, can't sheathe claws yet, legs unsteady but mobile). And possibly a girl. She did not care for being picked up and turned over, and the indignant squirming made it difficult to tell what's going on down there. But he's almost certain he's right.

She was shrieking up a storm about it, and he was worried if he took any longer she'd alert Gerrard. (She didn't. She did, however, draw the attention of about half the firehouse.)

"You are disgustingly cute," Chimney coos, scratching under her chin with the tip of one finger. She's lifted her head as high as she can and her eyes are squinted happily. Buck can hear her purring from across the room. "Yes you are. Hen, can you get a picture of this?"

Hen pulls out her phone. "Sure... why?" She asks, leaning over his shoulder to snap a picture and eye him with mild suspicion.

"Jee. She'll wanna see when I tell her about my day."

Her expression softens to a smile. "I'll text it to you." She taps her screen a couple times. "Just had to make sure you weren't planning on calendar campaigning again."

Chimney grins. "Nah, my calendar days are behind me. The only person who gets shirtless pictures of me now is my wife."

"Gross," Buck says without conviction. He narrows his eyes at the site he's scrolling through, swiping away a Join Our Mailing List! popup. "You guys don't think she's cold do you? Are her ears warm? It's only, like, 70 today and we don't know how long she was out there."

Hen and Chim exchange glances, and then, disturbingly in sync, look from the cat to Buck. Chim gives her ear a perfunctory poke, which she does not appreciate as much as chin scritches, "She's fine, man."

Hen waves a hand at Buck when he opens his mouth again, "We're medical professionals. And in my medically professional opinion. She's fine."

"Okay, but—"

"Hey guys, look who stopped b—uhhh. Is that a cat?" Eddie slows to a stop at the top of the stairs, blinking at the kitten on the couch. "When did we get a cat?"

"Couple hours ago," Buck says, still frowning at Hen and Chimney. "Where have you been?"

"I found him polishing the engine."

Buck shoots out of his seat. "Tommy!"

He only half-hears Eddie muttering, "Favouritism," as he scuttles around the chair to meet Tommy halfway between the stairs and the sitting area. Tommy has just enough time to smile—and it warms Buck, like it always does, with a spark caught in his chest for safekeeping—and say hi before Buck's on him, palms clapped on either side of his face, smushing their lips together.

He makes a bit of a show of it, dramatically swooping in, because he knows the big smacking MWAH will make Tommy laugh, and he likes the way that feels rumbling against his chest.

Buck taps their noses together. "Hey," he says, savouring the mirth sparkling in Tommy's eyes for a second before kissing him again, properly this time.

His brain goes sort of fuzzy when Tommy's palm cups the back of his neck.

Someone in the distance wolf-whistles.

When they finally come up for air Tommy asks, "What was that for?" a little breathlessly, which is doing things to Buck.

"Mmn...y'know. For being you."

Tommy raises his eyebrows, kiss-reddened lips curling fondly. "Okay."

"Hey, Tommy. Good to see you," Chim calls in a very pointed way.

Right, public setting. Workplace. Friends watching. Buck exhales slowly, and tries to think about anything other than how much he wants to bite that bit of clavicle peeking out of the collar of Tommy's shirt. Like the fact that Tommy's hands are warm, and he's sort of rubbing his fingertips over the short stubbly bits of hair on the back of Buck's head, and Buck's lips are still tingling a little, and—no wait, not that either.

Tommy pulls away first, which is probably for the best, but also very sad. The corner of his mouth twitches like he can see Buck thinking it. He curls his index finger and gently taps Buck's chin with the knuckle before he turns to the group.

"Howie," he says, not even pretending to be contrite in the face of Chim's mock-judgement. "Hen."

"Tommy." Hen fails to contain her smirk.

Some time during all the kissing, Eddie moved over to the couch. He's sat next to the kitten, watching her attempt to groom her paw with all the grace of a toddler who's only a little bit sure they know how to hold a brush. She keeps starting and stopping at random intervals, sometimes licking the cushion beside her, sometimes sticking her tongue out at thin air.

She's so cute it makes Buck's chest hurt. It's a little much while he's still loopy from making out with his boyfriend.

Then Tommy goes and crouches next to the couch so he can get eye-level with the kitten while she sniffs his hand, talking to her all calm and soft with smile-lines crinkling his cheeks, and. Buck might need to lie down for a bit. Like, on top of Tommy, preferably.

The kitten seems to like him too, and he really can't blame her when she crawls up Tommy's sleeve to perch on his shoulder.

She looks so much smaller cuddled up on Tommy. He reaches up to steady her, and she's almost entirely obscured by his hand.

God, is it wrong that he's getting a little hot under the collar about that? He just looks so strong and competent and at the same time, like, gentle. Buck knows how it feels to be touched tenderly by those hands, and apparently just seeing it happen does not affect him any less. In fact it's only added dimensions to his desires.

"I should probably get going," Tommy says, bringing Buck back down to Earth with a resounding splat.

He opens his mouth to protest, then closes it. He's right. The last thing Buck wants is for Tommy to have another run-in with Gerrard, and they don't know how long the old bastard's gonna be occupied.

"Mhm, run while you still can," Chimney pipes up. "Before our dear old captain smells an opportunity to ruin someone's day."

"He does seem to have a sixth sense for that," Eddie adds sullenly. Buck makes a note to ask him what that was about. Later.

"I'll walk you out," Buck says, trying not to sound like a pouting child. He's fairly certain he fails, because Tommy laces their fingers together and gives his hand a comforting squeeze.

He says his goodbyes, the whole time being careful not to dislodge the kitten while she crawls across his shoulders.

Buck goes through the list of kitten care basics he memorized as they make their way to the parking lot. It's...more than he thought it was, honestly. It starts to feel overwhelming as he goes on, and on, and on. He's running out of time to get it all out, and he feels like it's just now sinking in his huge this responsibility that he's dumping in Tommy's lap is.

"You're sure you don't mind taking her?" The question bursts out of Buck before they make it to Tommy's car. "W-we didn't really, I mean. We talked about it over the phone, but..."

"Yeah, now that I've seen her she does seem like a real handful."

The kitten yawns, and curls up into a tiny grey ball in the crook of Tommy's neck.

Well. Alright.

"It's just, t-they need a lot of attention when they're that young, and I kinda just, just dropped this on you."

"Evan." Tommy gives him a look. "Are you worried that you baby-trapped me?"

Okay, when he puts it like that. Maybe a little bit. But also now he's having complicated yearning feelings that he really should not be having this early in the relationship.

Buck's pretty sure he looks like a deer in the headlights right now, because Tommy's doing his damnedest to pretend he isn't laughing at him.

He tugs Buck's hand, leading him the rest of the way to his car.

The backseat is full of cat stuff. Containers of milk-replacement powders, and a shiny plastic litter box, and toys, so many toys, baggies of fake mice and feathery things, just. So much stuff. Piles of it.

"I called up a friend who used to foster kittens. She had a lot of advice. And then I got a little carried away."

"I, uh. See that," Buck laughs breathlessly.

"Over the phone, you sounded like this meant a lot to you? And I think I got really attached to the idea of...this. Taking care of her for you. With you." He sounds hesitant, like he's trying not to say too much, and Buck can't stand it—

"I love you so much," he says in a rush.

"Well, good," Tommy purses his lips around a smile, eyes bright and crinkled at the corners. He reaches up to his shoulder, like he's absent-mindedly checking to see if the kitten's still there. "Wouldn't want her to grow up in a broken home."

Buck huffs a laugh.

"And I love you too."

[gracieheartspedro]

Dagger In The Heart

pairing: ellie williams x afab! reader

post about palestine - please be aware and know who your content comes from. this post informs you about the tlou writers and creators, as well as how to help the Palestinian people.

word count: 6.1k words

warnings: MINORS DNI!!! 18+ ty!!! abusive relationship mentioned, reader's bf is a cheating asshole, calls her names, makes comments about weight, talks of cheating, some lowkey cheating from reader, sharing clothes with ellie, ellie is 18+ but her age not specified, talks of hardly eating food at dinner, reader is a bit confused with her sexuality and wants to explore (which is fine!!! and normal!!!), wlw relations, pussy eating, fingering, tribbing, tattoos? lots of tattoos, dirty talk, reader being a bit desperate, getting caught (but not really), mentions of a strap, men being drunk and stupid. that's it. I think.

description: when you get the chance to meet your asshole boyfriend’s family, you take a liking to his sister, ellie. when a conversation about her tattoos turns into talks of what you’re really into, you can’t help but want to explore it more.

author’s note: hi girls, gays, and theys! I am so happy to be bringing this request to you. it was an anon request from july and I just suck at getting my life together to actually write. but here we are. FYI, I don't condone this behavior or cheating. anyway I hope you enjoy. I will also be putting this on my ao3 soon, so if you see it there, don't worry, it's just me (;

“You gotta chill, babe. Your anxiety is giving me anxiety.”

He was never very good with comforting you, so you bite back your snappy comment and just fake a smile.  

You had been dating your boyfriend Matt for almost a year. You two met in your college biology class and really bonded over your love for folk music and Greek food. He had kind eyes, mousy brown hair and the brightest smile you had ever seen. 

At first, you thought this was the best relationship you ever could ask for, but Matt grew distant after four months together. You didn’t know why, but his temper had shown itself one too many times. He fought with you constantly. He was quite jealous. You could never be seen with another boy without accusations of cheating. But every time you two argued, he always came back with an apology and a bouquet of flowers. You could not help but believe you could fix him. 

It had been 10 months, you had to brave meeting his family. Unlike you, his family lived two towns over and he visited them quite often. He was close to his younger brother and mom, so he made a point to see them as much as he could. 

He brought up the idea of meeting them back around the holidays, but you were planning to board a flight and visit your family across the country. He understood but was pretty disappointed you could not try his mom’s infamous pumpkin pie.

You had no excuse when summer came. So here you are, standing with him at his childhood home’s front door as he scrambled to find his keys. 

You were sporting something more dressed up than your normal. Matt loved this one black dress on you, so you decided to wear that with some cute flats. You were sorely regretting the shoe decision, the pointed-toed shoes squeezed your big toe and the arch was not high enough to be comfortable. 

He unlocks the deadbolt and the red door jolts open. You are instantly met with the scent of BBQ and cornbread. His childhood is cozy and lived in. The entrance is lined with shoes, everything from high heels to sneakers that have run through countless puddles. It was a sigh of relief, they were a no-shoes in the house family. You kick off your uncomfortable shoes, holding on to Matt’s shoulder for balance. 

His mom is the first one to enter the hallway to meet you two at the door. She is quite beautiful, her hair darker than Matt’s. She was shorter, wearing a nice blouse and jeans. She welcomes you both with a bear hug and cheers of excitement. When she pulls you out of the embrace, she gets a better look at you. 

“You are more beautiful in person, pictures do not do your gorgeous smile justice,” She remarks, squeezing your hands. 

You shake your head, trying your best not to let out that you are beyond nervous about this entire encounter. “You are too kind, thank you so much for hosting us.”

“Come meet the crew!”

Matt eyes meet yours, noticing how tense you are. You had hoped for him to hold your hand and guide you through this experience, but instead he just nudges you with his shoulder. He brushes by, heading after his mom. 

The hallway opens into a kitchen and living room, which is littered with random strangers who, in some way, resemble your boyfriend. 

His brother, Collin, stands up first from the barstools, racing over to your boyfriend to dap him up. When he glances your way, you just smile and introduce yourself. He extends his hand to shake yours, which you gladly accept. 

His dad is next to stand up from a recliner in the living room. He makes your acquaintance quickly, telling you he’s so glad to finally meet you after months of hearing all about you. 

When he moves away from in front of you, she comes into focus. You had not even noticed her sitting on the couch across the room. 

She’s slender, her dark locks framing her chiseled jawline. She looks like Matt, but more like a person who belongs in a Renaissance painting. Her eyes are a more dimensional brown. She has freckles scattered around her pale complexion, which only added her beauty. 

You do not realize you are gawking until Matt nudges you. “This is my sister, Ellie.”

You blink again, bringing your focus back to the situation. She extends her hand, and that’s when you take notice to her tattoo-filled arms. Her tank top raises a bit and you catch a glance of her midriff, exposing more tattoos littering her abdomen. 

“Nice to meet ya. Heard plenty about you.”

You swallow, taking her hand and shaking it. “I hope good things.”

“No, I only tell her the worst things about you.”

Everyone giggles except you and Ellie. Luckily it is filling the room with enough noise to drown out your thoughts about your boyfriend’s beautiful sister. 

Ellie rolls her eyes before whispering, “Don’t worry, it’s only ever good things, sweet cheeks.”

-

Matt’s dad loves to talk and you can tell it annoys Ellie. You were seated outside on their patio set, drinking some homemade lemonade Matt’s mom was adamant you had. He was helping her with all the sides that were still yet to be made, so you took up Ellie’s offer to check out the backyard space. You did not expect Matt’s dad to come with you two and tell you all about the flower beds he curated. 

But you listened, smiling and nodding while sipping on your tart drink. 

He got occupied with grilling, so you and Ellie were left on the couch near a very used and abused firepit. 

You wait for her to say something. She was truly making you nervous, her eyes trailing you every so often. 

“So, you and Matt met in science class?”

You finally look back at her wandering eyes, “Yeah, he was my biology partner.”

“Gotcha,” She leans forward, putting her elbows on her knees. You do not know what comes over you, but you cannot physically pull your eyes away from her arms as they flex. “You good?”

“I like your tattoos,” You barely manage to say, “They are… hot.”

You want to jump into the unlit firepit for that one. 

No other adjective came to your horny mind? Really?

She giggles, enjoying watching you practically squirm under her gaze. “Thanks, dude. My ex girlfriend was a tattoo artist so I let her practice on me.”

You remember a moment about 5 months ago when Matt mentioned his sister being gay, but for some reason, you finally connect that duh it’s Ellie, you fucking idiot. 

You also remember some choice words he had about her. You remember cringing when he called her a slur and said she could not keep a girl to save her life. You held your tongue and refused to reply.

“That’s awesome,” You scoot closer to her, bridging more of the gap between you two on the couch, “Which one is your favorite?”

She smiles at your intrusion into her space and questions. You realize you two are almost sizing each other up, right in front of her family, your boyfriend’s family. They could easily peek outside of the kitchen windows and see you two eye fucking each other. She leans back, her eyes tracing all the tattoos on her arms. 

Then she laughs. A deep guttural laugh. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” She brings her front teeth down on her bottom lip before speaking up again, “It’s a tattoo I can’t show you.”

“Why not?”

She looks towards the window, checking on her brother and mom. Her expression changes when she turns back to you. 

“Because I’m not pulling my tits out in front of my family.”

Your pussy practically pulses when you hear her say it. What is wrong with you? You are dating her brother. What is wrong with you?!

“Your… boobs are tattooed?”

She nods slowly, bringing her one hand up to your bare exposed thigh, “Bet that shakes a sweet one like you to your core.”

The comment insinuates that you are an innocent little girl who knows nothing about the world. And sure Matt is your first real boyfriend. Sure he was the first person ever to eat you out because your high school crushes did not even know that was a thing. Sure you never have been sexually promiscuous. Sure you thought you were straight. 

Sure.

But something inside you was crawling its way out. This small interaction with your asshole boyfriend’s sister was enough to send you into a spiral. You never gave a girl a chance so how were you supposed to know you did not like it?

“What if your family wasn’t around?”

Ellie is gobsmacked by your comment, her jaw practically hitting the floor. You can tell she realized she was flying too close to the sun. She pulls her hand away from your leg. 

“You are my brother’s girlfriend. I am not going to be the one to corrupt you,” She states, scooting over a bit away from you. Your cheeks get flushed, instantly feeling embarrassed for asking such a question. But the more you sat in silence, the more you realized that you really did not care. The feelings Ellie made you feel within the last 10 minutes were more exciting than any feeling Matt had given you in 10 months. 

You clear your throat, “Luckily for you, Ellie, you would not be the one to corrupt me. That has already been done.”

She looks at you quizzically, “Is that so?”

“Yeah, I may look sweet and innocent,” You creep in close to her, “But I am really a freak.”

Now you are just lying. 

Before she can utter a word, Matt’s brother comes out to let you two know dinner was done. You hope and pray he didn’t take notice to how close you two were. Or how Ellie stared at your ass as you walked away. 

-

You sit between Matt and Ellie at the table. 

Every so often during the meal, you would place your hand on Matt’s leg. He would push you away, rolling his eyes when you glared at him. When the conversation came around to him, he would find a way to demean you and then continue blabbing about school or his internship. 

You answered questions from his mom and dad, but you were sorely uninterested in them. But then the conversation comes around as to whether you two would be staying the night tonight. At this point, Matt had already had four beers, and you knew he probably would not want you driving his new Mustang. 

“You can take Matt’s bed and he can sleep on the couch,” His mom suggests, indicating that you two would not be sleeping together. You understood that they were a bit more traditional, but you were not expecting to sleep in your boyfriend's childhood bed without him. 

“That’s a great idea, Ma. We can stay, right?”

You look at the plate of practically untouched food in front of you. You just nod, finally saying, “As long as you give me some comfy sweatpants to wear.”

“Mine are all back at my apartment, but I’m sure Ellie has something you could borrow. Plus, you probably wouldn’t fit my sweatpants.”

Matt constantly made comments about your figure and how he could not share clothes with you. He refused to share his clothes with you, stating that you would not be able to squeeze into them and you also “left your scent on everything”. 

God, he made you feel terrible about yourself. 

Butterflies erupt in your stomach when you think about wearing Ellie’s clothes, though, and you completely drown out the separate conversation happening around the table. You feel a hand creep up your thigh, but it's not coming from the side you expect.

Her hand is so soft and delicate as it creeps up your leg. You cannot help but glance at her direction, catching her smiling over at you. 

“Don’t worry, I got something you can wear.”

-

Dinner finishes up and Matt expresses that he wants to go for a round of drinks with his high school friends and brother at the local tavern down the street. He never asks if you want to go, telling you “It would just be high school friends that you don’t know, anyway.”

He tells you that his Mom and Ellie would get you all set up. He gives you a pat on the back, and heads to the door, right behind his brother. You watch him leave and almost breathe a sigh of relief. 

When you turn back, you see his Mom already going upstairs. 

“I’m gonna get your bed all set up and then I’m probably going to retire to my bed, too.” She states, slowly making her way up the wooden staircase. 

You wanted to scream because this only meant one thing. You were alone with Ellie. 

You follow her up the stairs and look around the hallway. She heads to the right and begins pointing at the only room with the light on. You didn’t even know that Ellie was upstairs.

“Have Ellie get you something to wear, I’ll make up your bed!”

The door swings open and Ellie stands there, having changed into her own bedtime clothes. And for fucks sake, she’s not making this easy for you. 

She is sporting a tight white tank, no bra, and shorts that ride up to the very tops of her thighs. Her legs are tattooed as well, but not as much as her arms. There isn’t a touch of her freckled skin that isn’t marked with art. You can almost see through her shirt, making your mouth go dry. 

“Let’s see what you fit into!”

She lets you into her space. Her room is decorated with posters of space and heavy metal bands. From the looks of one corner of her room, she’s an artist. She has different art styles, anywhere from charcoal to watercolors, littering a desk and her walls. It’s messy, but it’s not dirty. It smells like incense and clean laundry. 

She walks over to her dresser, opens up the top drawer. Everything is neatly folded, which kind of surprises you. 

“I have some sweatpants, shorts, boxers-“

“Sweatpants are fine,” You retort, not wanting her to list off anything else, “Do you have any t-shirts I could wear?”

“Well of course I do, sweet cheeks. What do you want, loose or tight?”

You stare at her dumbfounded. You know what she’s doing. And you hate yourself for liking it so much. 

She pulls out a pair of navy blue sweatpants, still waiting for your reply. 

“Loose.”

She starts to dig through another drawer when Matt’s mom pops her head in. 

“It’s all set up for you, sweetheart. If you need anything, you let one of us know. I’m going to downstairs if you need me.”

You smile, thankfully. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Williams.”

“If she needs anything, I’m sure I could help her find her way,” Ellie says, absentmindedly. She pulls out a white t-shirt from her drawer and tosses it at you. 

“Goodnight, girls!”

And then you two are alone. Ellie slowly saunters to her door and shuts it. 

“You can get dressed here. Just make sure what I gave you fits.”

You silently turned your back to her, tossing your hair over your shoulder. “Can you unzip me?”

You are not even thinking straight. You are so caught up with being alone with the girl you have had weird sexual tension with. She walks over to you confidently, before grabbing the top of your black dress, which lands right at the middle of your back. She pulls down the zipper, ensuring it reaches the very end of its track. 

The hairs on your back stand up in her wake. You breathe deeply, before shimmying the dress off your shoulders. You were wearing a bra, so you were just going to keep it on. You step out of the dress, leaving you in just underwear and the push-up bra Matt gifted you not too long ago. 

You don’t turn to her, but she just comes around to your front, nonchalantly. 

“Jesus Christ,” Ellie stammers, before plopping on her bed. You shakingly step into the sweatpants she gifted you to wear, unsure how to respond. You rack your brain trying to gain the confidence you had before dinner, but your mouth is dry and your brain is dazed from seeing Ellie in her pajamas. 

You finally manage to glance up at her hungry eyes, smiling softly. 

“I never knew I would be jealous of my brother.”

You swallow, “Jealous?”

“Yeah, he gets to have someone like you every night and I can’t even find someone worth hanging out with around here. Never thought a nerd like him would win over a woman like you.”

You are standing in the sweatpants and your bra, not able to digest her words completely. A woman like you?

“Your brother is sweet. And we don’t have sex every night.”

“Just sweet?” She steps a bit closer to you, “And I said nothing about sex, darling, I said he gets to have you.”

She is looking at you like you are her prey. You almost fell to your knees and begged her to put you out of your misery, but you resisted. Instead, she just stands up, trying to catch your nervous glances. 

“H-he, uh, does what he can, when we d-do, yanno.”

Her fingers trace up your arm, her eyes trailing as she does it. You bite the inside of your cheek, waiting for her response. She clicks her tongue a couple of times, shaking her head. 

“I am sure he tries,” She sputters, standing back from you, “Do you even really like him?”

You furrow your eyebrows, suddenly snapping out of the situation you are currently in. You reflect for a moment.

Matt was an asshole but you sometimes enjoyed his company. He made you laugh on occasion. But deep down, you knew that he wasn’t made for you. He lacked emotional intelligence and made sure to put you down any chance he got. You had inklings he was talking to other girls and his friends were probably the most intolerable people on your college campus. And then there was that one time when the inklings were just. 

The realization that you maybe didn’t like him made you sick. You wasted so much time and now you have met his family.

“When he’s not mean to me. When he isn’t cheating on me.” You admit quietly, almost too humiliated to say it. 

She crooks her neck, “He cheated on you?”

You hate talking about it, it made you feel as though you were never good enough. He made it out that it was your fault because you would not have sex with him when you had the flu. “It was just some hand stuff, baby,” he said to you. 

“Just once. I forgave him because he told me he loved me.”

“People who love you don’t hurt you like that,” Ellie says without a beat. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Is he mean to you all the time?”

You think back to the last nice thing he said to you. Your ass looks fat in that dress. And even that could be seen as a bad thing. You shake your head, trying to find a good way to paint her brother. From the looks of it, she doesn’t really like him all that much anyway. 

“Most of the time.”

“So, what I’m hearing is my brother is an asshole that doesn’t know how to treat a woman both in life and in the bedroom. Is that what you’re saying?”

You stand there pondering her question, coming up with nothing. She was right, but were you ready to admit that?

So you shrug.

Ellie stands with her arms crossed now, chewing on the inside of her lip. She’s contemplating something, her eyes falling to the floor for a moment. 

“Listen, I am not just saying this because it has taken everything in my power to resist sinking my teeth into you,” The first half of the sentence put your heart in your throat. Nonetheless, she carries on, “But I have an inkling that you don’t like my brother at all. I think you like girls and you’ve never had the chance to explore that. You want to say you are a freak, but you really don’t know what that even means.”

“Ellie, I d-”

“You need to break up with my brother,” She states plainly, “And then, after all is said and done, I can show what it looks like to be taken care of.”

You agree, sadly. You do need to break up with Matt. And on the basis that you believe that he’s probably at the bar hanging out with old friends, probably with other girls, probably flirting with those other girls. You decide you are not going to wait anymore. He cheated on you once, what’s stopping him now? Ellie was right about everything, and while that revelation changes your entire perspective on life, you settle on jumping head first. 

“Show me now.”

You watch all the blood drain from her face. She fumbles with her inked hands, waiting for you to say you didn’t mean it. That moment never comes. 

“Are you sure about that?”

Swallowing hard, you just nod. You do not even realize what you are getting yourself into, but the undeniable chemistry cannot be ignored anymore. You don’t even want to waste another thought on Matt. You know if you think too hard about it, you’ll talk yourself back into staying with him.

Ellie’s face gets closer to yours and your lips connect seamlessly. She wastes no time, bringing her hands down to your waist to pull you in. You wrap your arms around her neck while fireworks erupt in your chest.

Her lips taste like mint and a dab pen your college roommate made you hit a couple of months ago. She was borderline intoxicating. 

She backs you up towards her bed, letting your knees hit the edge of the mattress. You plop down, disconnecting from her lips. 

Through hooded lids, she asks you, “Do you want to see my favorite tattoo, then?”

Your breathing hitches as she does not even wait for a response, she just pulls her tank top over her head.

Each piece is connected somehow. Her stomach piece is what appeared to be a dragon flying up towards her under-boob area. It was extremely detailed and took up a large half of her upper stomach. Around her collarbones were very intricate lines that almost rain over her body like veins. They spread down her chest onto her boobs, where around her nipples were two matching daggers appearing to go through her areola. 

You smirk at the idea that these are her favorite tattoos. The cheeky ones around her tits.

“Holy shit, Ellie.”

You reach out and touch her tits, ever so delicately. You use your finger to outline the daggers, smiling to yourself. 

Being this close sends a pulsating feeling down to your pussy. You have never felt a lightning strike quite like it before. 

She’s letting you feel her up, but when you change your tune and start pinching at her nipples, she throws her head back with a groan.

“Hmm, you should try putting one in your mouth,” She remarks, hoping to God you would be eager enough to do so. She was very in tune with you because you leaned forward taking her right nipple into your mouth. She’s guiding you around every turn, whispering how good you are doing already. 

You release her with a pop and sit back. You reach around to release your own, but she stops you. 

“Lemme do it,” She says mounting your lap. You place your hand on her hips while she runs her fingertips across your back. She unhooks your black bra, letting your tits spill out. 

You feel the tops of your hands stand up as soon as her hands begin to knead your tits. You glance down at her movements, watching your sensitive nipples perk up due to the attention she’s giving them. 

“Mmm, you like that, sweetness?”

You just groan, your lips needing to do more than just talk. You pull Ellie’s ajar mouth down to yours, diving your tongue between her teeth. You never had such a hunger for anyone else. No guy ever made you feel this way. 

She nudges your shoulders, having you fall onto your back. Her lips move away from yours and start to trail down your neck and chest. When her wet mouth touches your tits, you cannot control the sounds that leave your throat. She bites down on your supple skin, which makes you groan more. 

“You gotta quiet down a bit. Don’t need anyone hearing us.”

You try to manage your noises, but as soon as she starts to kiss down to the hem of the sweatpants she loaned you, you know you’ll never be quiet like she needs you to be. She tugs at the waistband, taking your underwear with it. 

You are now butt naked on her bed. And god, the air is hitting the wetness between your legs is titillating. 

“Listen, sweets,” She whispers, palming your thighs with her tattooed hands, “I’m going to make you cum on my tongue first. Then I am going to fuck this pussy so good, you won’t know any other cock but the fake one in my side table. You hear me?”

Your stomach is in knots, but you know that this is what you really want. “Okay, Ellie. Please do whatever you think I will like.”

“You’re gonna like it all, baby girl. And if it gets a bit dodgy, you just let me know and we can stop.”

You shake your head positively as she smiles between your legs. She starts by kissing up your thighs, keeping you completely in a trance. When her mouth finds your slit, she licks a long stripe. She takes her time, working her tongue in between your pussy lips. The wet sound that happens when she shakes her head is pornographic. When she finds your clit, she encases it and starts to suck lightly. You scream out in pleasure, never feeling this sensitive before. It usually took a whole lot of Matt lazily fingering you and fucking you to illicit such a response. Ellie is building up an orgasm within you in record time. 

She uses her fingers to open up your pussy a little bit more. You instinctively want to close your legs, but her left arm has your legs locked on her bed. Her middle and index fingers curl inside you with every motion forward. 

Her eyes are closed and you are laser-focused on her expressions. She’s putting her all into making you feel good and it’s relieving to watch someone put so much care into it. 

You notice the small little freckles that scatter across her nose get lighter as they reach her cheekbones. She’s so fucking pretty. 

“Jesus, you’re doin’ so good sweetheart. You feel so good.”

“Oh my god, Ellie, please don’t stop,” Your voice is strained, begging her to continue fucking you. She chuckles and begins to pick up speed. Your mind is cluttered, unsure how you can feel this good. 

When the peripherals of your vision begin to get white, you know it’s over. She latches her lips back onto your clit, humming to drag the orgasm out of you. When it happens, your deep guttural moans get muffled by her palm.

You think your heart is going to stop beating. 

Once you begin to feel your muscles relax, Ellie is crawling on top of you, hovering over your chest, her lips kissing your collarbones.

“You did such a great job, baby girl,” She dotes, her short hair falling across her forehead, “You’re so fuckin’ sexy.”

Your heart swells up a thousand sizes. You never got called that before, let alone felt sexy. But Ellie had this aura to her. She made you feel sexy, desirable, wanted. 

Your hand reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear, “Please show me more.”

She nods, before she leans back on her knees. She balances on one leg before shoving her pajama shorts down. The ink travels to every part of her body and you wonder if the ones around her hips hurt. The snakes that travel up her thighs, have their heads resting right on her hip bones. 

You sit up and observe her movements, she’s fumbling with something in her drawer. She seemingly cannot find what she’s looking for and slams it shut. 

“How about this,” She says with a huff, “I want you to see what it feels like to grind that pretty little pussy on mine anyway. The strap will have to wait.”

You feel the blood drain from your face, “The strap?”

She giggles at your not-so-faux innocence. “We will try that next time.”

You aren’t ready for her to grab onto your legs and move you like a rag doll around her bed. She rests her body horizontally from yours, her lower half lining up with yours. You were not sure how this worked, but you had heard of scissoring before. The technicality was lost on you. 

You sit up waiting for instruction, but Ellie is so hypnotized by your wet slit, she doesn’t even look at you. You watch her reach out and touch your dripping center and it sends an electric shock down your limbs. You throw your head back, hissing at the action. 

“God, that cunt is so pretty.”

You finally look back at her, wanting nothing more but to fuck her like she fucked you. So in return for her toying with you, you hastily reach out and touch her pussy. You are confused by what to do, but by her reaction, you know you did something right. 

“Tell me what we are doing,” You beg, closing your legs in closer to hers. She nods, watching your fingers pull apart her pussy lips. 

“Pull your cunt against mine and ride me like you’d ride Matt’s dick.”

You halt your movements, “Ride him?”

“You’ve never ridden him before?”

Your response was your silence. You had never explored much with him, simply because he was quick to get his nut before traversing to other territories. 

She helps you sit up, hover your cunt over hers. You can not lie, the sight of her sticky wet pussy was hot. She guides you down so your mound is on hers. She bites her lip as you practically drool watching your purely untouched body against her painted figure. 

“Now move your hips back,” Her hands are gripping onto your hips, showing you the way, “And forth.”

The friction is immediately overstimulating, but it feels like an itch you’ve never scratched. So fucking delicious. 

“Shit…” You groan at the response your body is giving you.

“Practice makes perfect, baby. Keep moving those hips. 

You have never been on top, but it’s almost freeing to be in control of the movements. You weren’t sure what you should grip onto as you rubbed your pussy against hers, so you grip onto your own shoulders. Your hips gyrate, the slickness between your legs starts trailing down to Ellie’s navy blue sheets. 

“God, this pussy is so fucking perfect,” Ellie says through gritted teeth. She holds down your hips, somehow trying to get you closer to her.

“It’s yours.” You whine, letting the lust take over your speech. You had no clue what that meant for this situation, you just knew that Ellie knew how to fuck you and it was bliss. You hands leave your shoulders and eventually find Ellie’s tits.

“This pussy is mine? The first cunt you fuck is the cunt you fuck forever?”

You want to laugh, but the bubble in your stomach is about to burst already with how fucked out of your mind you are. “If the cunt is yours, then yes. I want this forever.”

Ellie sucks on her two fingers before she reaches down, finding the very top of your cunt, and starts to press down on that sensitive little bud. The saliva only mixes with the messiness of your liquids. You squeeze her nipples in response. 

“Never going back to my stupid fuckin’ brother, hm? This pussy belongs to me.”

“Yes, Ellie, fuck!” 

She smiles at your quickening pace. She knows you’re reaching your breaking point, and she knows that she’s close herself. 

“Come for me, baby. Come all over my fuckin’ cunt.”

You jolt forward, your hips stilling over hers. You don’t know if you’ve felt a sensation quite like it. You had tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your body felt like a volcano erupting. The curses leaving Ellie’s lips as she came from your orgasm only added to the high you felt. You knew words were leaving your mouth, but they were just jumbled together strings of sentences. 

“Jesus Christ…”

“It feels so good…”

“I want this pussy forever…”

You fall over next to Ellie, your legs still intertwined with hers. She was trying to catch her breath, her body still jittery from her high. 

“That was per-”

“Babe!!”

Your stomach drops to your ass when you hear Matt’s voice.

You jump up from Ellie’s bed, finding the closest clothes you can grab at. Ellie does the same, but takes her time throwing a tank top over her bed head. His footsteps are practically running up the steps. 

You are still wobbly on your legs, practically falling over trying to put on the pants she loaned you. You just keep saying “fuck” over and over again, knowing that you two will probably be caught. You just finished putting on a shirt when he barges into the room. 

He’s drunk. 

“What are you still doing in here?” He asks you in an accusatory slurred voice. Collin is close behind him, trying to shush him.

“Chill, dude. I was just showin’ her some of my art.” Ellie defends, plopping down on her bed. She’s trying to mask the fact that her bed is wet with your cum. 

While he blabs about how Ellie sucks at art, which he is very wrong about, you notice a red blotch on his shirt collar. You zero in on it because you fucking knew. 

“Matt, what’s on your neck?” You interrupt.

He stops his rant to look down at you. His eyes are bloodshot. He’s so gone that his mind can’t make up an excuse. 

“It’s from Sophie,” He blurts out, his lips getting ahead of his brain. Ellie pauses and the entire room goes dead silent. You had no idea what to say back to that. You had no clue who Sophie was. You honestly did not care, your relationship was already done in your head. You were just kind of shell-shocked that it happened exactly how your mind doctored it.  

You glance over at Ellie who is already looking at you. Collin clears his throat. 

“I think this a conversation for the morning,” Collin says, grabbing Matt’s arm to tug him out of the room. 

You nod, “Yeah, Collin, great idea. Why don’t you take Matt to bed? Tuck him in and give him a sweet kiss like Sophie did.”

Matt’s face turns bright red, the same thing it always did when he got mad at you. Before he could lash out at you, Collin drags him out of the room and into the hall. Before shutting the door behind him, he says, “I’m sorry.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “It’s fine. It’s not the first time. But it will be the last.”

When the door clicks shut, you hear Matt whisper yelling at Collin about how big of a bitch you are. How you didn’t deserve him. Yadda-yadda-yadda. 

Ellie just gawks at you. The tone of the room changed so drastically so quickly that you felt almost disconnected from reality. 

“You okay?” She asks innocently, her hand holding onto your shoulder. 

Your legs are still weak. “Yeah, I think I’ll need more practice though.”

She is confused, you can tell by the look on her face. “Huh?”

“I’ll need more practice riding you. And, hey, you didn’t get to use that fake dick on me, remember?”

-

taglist (for those who said they wanted this haha)

@cavillscurls @satellitespinner @mourningdovee @hockeyhughes @stonerzdaze420692 @00ops1e @sunflowerwinds @holilogram @whoucallingalesbian @aurelialuna

[amyrahrose]

Content warning: Sukunaxreader smut, penetration, multiple positions, dominant Sukuna! , unprotected sex (Wrap it up!), pet names, Sexual theme, Adult theme, talking her through it, although it is sometimes not mentioned <READER IS BLACK FEMALE CODED>, BUT ALL ARE WELCOME TO ENJOY! ❤️

Authur's Note→ 18 and Under, GET TA STEPPIN! I know for sure this will be broken into parts, however I'm not sure how many parts will be to this. I just decided to get back into writing little dabbles here and there so I'm honestly just testing the waters with this. Slightly proofread (English is my first language, but even the baddest of Bitches still make mistakes! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) ) I do hope you guys enjoy! 🤎

Synopsis: You’ve decided that you would begin your fitness journey. Accompanying your best friend, today’s the day where you’ll being taking working out and going to the gym seriously (well kind of). Lacking motivation and ready to go back home to lounge around to watch some TV and pig out, that all changes when suddenly you meet this drop dead gorgeous as hell man. Will he be the inspiration you need to continue your new lifestyle?

Part 1 found here →→ GYM RAT: PART 1

w.c» 2.1 K

It was Tuesday night, and you found yourself pacing back and forth in your apartment bedroom, forgetting that you had Jade on Facetime to help you pick an workout outfit to wear to the gym with Sukuna tomorrow. 

“Girl I don’t know why you’re stressing over an outfit, ya’ll going to the gym not Ruth’s Chris.” Jade rolled her eyes at you jokingly. She thought it was cute how you were trying to make sure you were prepared for your gym date with Sukuna, but she also knew how bad you can overthink things, causing you to freak-out and panic. 

“I know, I know but I still want to look like I’ve been to the gym before.” You stated back desperately. You know it sounds silly, but you wanted to make a good impression, even if it was just a workout session. 

“Honestly Y/n, I swear you set unrealistic goals. You could show up in a trash bag and that man would still be into you.” Jade tried convincing you but to no avail. You were dead set on having the perfect workout attire to flaunt in for Sukuna. 

“Well what about this, oh no wait what about this one?” You had two different sets in both of your hands, shoving one after the other in-front of the screen for Jade to critique. 

Realizing that nothing she was saying was going to help the situation she caved in and took a good look at both outfits. The first was a high-waisted leggings and sport bra set in a rich, deep brown color and the other was an all into one, low cut design with a low scoop back and cross-body straps in all black. Remembering how Sukuna was looking at you as if he was going to devour you, she figured the later would surely set him over the edge. 

“Let’s go with the all black, give my man something to work with.” Jade cackled out while wiggling her eyebrows up and down at you. You laughed nervously because you knew she was going to pick that one. To be honest, you wasn’t sure why you grabbed that one in the first place when you set out to go to your local department store shopping for gym attire. When you seen it you knew it was something that was going to turn heads and demand attention, more importantly Sukuna’s attention, prompting you to hurry up and toss it inside your shopping cart before deciding against it. But now you wish you did change your mind. You knew you could pull it off, but you couldn’t help but wonder if you would be coming off too strong, or desperate, by wearing it. 

“You asked for my opinion and I gave it to you. You’re going to look amazing in it Y/n. You’ll definitely get worked out- uh I mean get a good work out in it.” Jade said quickly before you caught her statement. Noticing you were still too wrapped up in choosing between the two outfits, she blew out a breathe of relief at you not catching what she said. That most definitely would’ve sent you in a frenzy and make you not want to go to the gym at all. 

“I know, but are you sure? Like really, really sure.” You asked again. You knew you were too much inside of your head about the matter, but you needed reassurance. Looking back up to Jade you caught the look she was giving you and knew she was about to give you a piece of her mind when all of a sudden you squealed in shock from the incoming call flashing on your screen. 

“Y/n what the hell is wrong with you?” Jade asked bewildered. She watched as you hurried and ran to your vanity looking over your appearance before rushing back to her wide eyed. 

“It’s him, he’s Face timing me!” You stated, looking back at Jade in shock. It took her a moment to figure out who it was you were talking about before she smiled devilishly and wiggled her eyebrows once more. 

“Well what are you doing still on the phone with me? Answer him! Oh and show him your choices for tomorrow and see what he thinks.” She proclaimed. Before you could argue, she hung up the call leaving you to fend for yourself. 

Shaking your head and exhaling out a deep breath, you answered Sukuna’s face time call with a small smile. 

“Heyyy you.” You answered shyly. You mentally slapped yourself for how you answered the call. 

“What am I, 12?” You thought to yourself. 

Sukuna’s deep laugh pulled you out of your head, making you look at him and his surroundings. He was obviously at the gym, you heard the clanking of weights and the gym’s music in the background. He was staring back at you, looking like sex himself. His hair pushed back with sweat, making you just now notice how it was dyed pink, and a hue of pink across his cheeks signaling that he must have just wrapped up his workout session. 

“What’s up ma?” His raspy, deep voice sounded off into your phone’s speaker. The sound stirring up a feeling deep inside your stomach, making you want to record his voice to be played over and over. 

“Uh nothing much, I was just on the phone with Jade. You know, nothing too crazy.” You replied with a small smile. You kept your gaze transfixed on Sukuna, taking in his handsome features. 

“God this man is so fine.” 

“Mh, what was that mama?” He asked while he placed his phone down. He was now in the guy’s locker room, checking himself out in the mirror. 

“Shit”, you whispered to yourself, “Nothing, I didn’t say anything.” You answered, half stuck on the fact he heard you and also the new nickname he’d given you. Your brain was short fusing at the sight of him now peeling off his sweat drench compression shirt, revealing his abs to you once again. Your mouth watered at the sight while you unconsciously clenched your thighs together. If he pulled the stunt in-front of you tomorrow there was no way in hell you were going to make it through the workouts. 

“Oh yeah, what ya’ll were talking about?” Sukuna asked, trying to hold in his smirk. He most definitely heard your remarks and he knew exactly what he was doing by taking off his shirt, soaking up your reaction. He felt he dick come to life by the sight of you clenching your thighs together. How he wished he was over your place right now, seating comfortably in between them. 

“Well.. she was uh-she was helping me pick a outfit for tomorrow.” You answered quietly. You’re not sure why you gave out the information, thinking he might think you’re crazy for discussing something as ridiculous as that. 

“Oh yeah? Let me see what you came up with.” He replied while shuffling through his gym bag. 

Caught off-guard by his response, you were certain he would have just questioned why you would go to great lengths as that. You watched him for a little bit as he looked around in his gym back, thinking he must’ve have been joking until he turns around to look at you with his brows shot up in curiosity. 

“Well ma, you ‘gon show me what you got?” He asked with a chuckle. He found you cute with your shy girl expression. He turned back to his bag, finally finding his towel so he could prepare for his shower. 

You blew out a breath you didn’t even realizing you were holding and thought the hell with it, he was going to see you in it regardless, what’s the harm of you showing it to him now?

“Well okay, if you insist.” You said while holding up the gym set Jade picked out. You waited anxiously until Sukuna turned back around to gauge for his reaction. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine mam-” Sukuna stopped, sucking in a breathe. He took in the black set you had selected and fought with himself to keep in the low growl threatening to come out. Taking it in, he found it hard to keep out the thoughts of how your body would look in it. The way the front would hug your tits, or the way your sweat would be cascading down into the dips of your back, or how the way it would mold around your plump ass. He closed his eyes, trying to stop himself while he was ahead, but it didn’t stop the rush of blood going to his dick, making his gym shorts uncomfortably tight. 

“So- what do you think?” You asked timidly, you were still too wrapped up in overthinking your outfit choice you didn’t catch the internal battle Sukuna was having with himself over it. 

Trying to be nonchalant about it, he shook his head slightly while offering a small smile. 

“I think it’s good Y/n, whatever you’re comfortable in, that’s all that matters.” He said in a low tone. You looked at him curiously, wondering why the sudden formal change. Not trying to let it get to you, you offered a small smile back at his input. 

“Okay, if you say so.” You replied back. There was a beat of silence between you to before you let out a giggle at how intense he was staring at you. 

“So you called just for me to look at you flex?” You asked, lightening the mood again. He blinked wide eyed before chuckling.

“Nah ma, just making sure you don’t flake on me tomorrow is all.” You sighed in relief at him going back to his nickname for you, helping quiet your nerves a little bit. 

You smiled at him while shaking your head no. 

“Nah, I’m locked in. I wouldn’t bail on you.” You respond back. That causes him to smirk before replying back. 

“Good, wouldn’t want a good outfit like that to go to waste.” He joked back, causing you to put your head down shyly. 

“Ha, nah we wouldn’t want that.” You giggled out. You looked up, catching him watching you with the same smirk etched on his face. 

“What?” You asked, having him watch you the way he was, was doing something to you. 

“Nothing ma, Ima see you tomorrow, alright?” He stated while throwing his towel over his shoulder. 

Shaking your head yes, you both said your goodbyes before hanging up the phone. Placing your outfit back across your vanity, you plopped on-top of your bed still smiling like a fool at your phone. 

Sukuana’s POV

He groaned lowly as he placed his hands around his dick, slowly stroking it up and down. He tried desperately to get the thought of you out of his head as he took his shower, but nothing he did was working. Every time he tried to think of something else, his thoughts always came back to you. 

Drawing in a breath, he threw his head back as the water from the shower head caressed his skin and helped lubricate his motions as he picked up pace. Flashes of you entered his mind. Seeing how you would look in the gym outfit you flashed in-front him not to long ago or the way he imaged how you plush, thick lips would feel wrapped around his dick, or how well your pussy would mold around his dick as he thrusted relentlessly into your velvety walls. His thoughts ran wild with all the things he would do to you and with a flick of his wrist over his swollen tip it was all that it took to send him over the edge. 

“Y/n.” He moaned out, forgetting his surroundings but ultimately not caring if anyone heard. He continued with his lights strokes, watching as ropes of cum shot down the shower drain. 

“Shit.” He cursed under his breath as he tried to regulate his breathing back to normal. He could only hope he doesn’t act this way around you tomorrow or he wasn’t sure how things would end. 

Before he could stop himself, thoughts of you came rushing at him again and he silently cursed at himself as he felt his dick harden again. Knowing it wouldn’t go away on it’s own, he began to slowly stroke himself again to ease the relief. 

You were going to be the death of him. 

© 2024 Amyrahrose. Please do not translate, copy, plagiarize, or repost (sharing links is fine 🤎) without my permission. You will only find my entries/content on tumblr!

[desireangel]

Dark Cherry [4] | Aemond Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: MDNI 18+!! canon divergence!!! I fucked the timeline and nigly bits bc this was an impulse fic ok soooo it was mostly unplanned, almost smut, angst, let the grovelling happen babyyy, unedited, mention of alys x aemond but not in a good way :((, infidelity, talk of sex, guilt, mentions of Aegon x reader, hmmm I ramble, little vulnerable Aemond, bad language, let me know if I've missed anything!

Author's note: y'all I was never done with that man like there's no easy out for him :llll. Anyways I wrote most of this instead of studying which I needed to do. Perhaps I'll have my hand at another idea I'm cooking before part 5 but I'm alsoooo unsure about how keen we are to keep this one going - like is it getting too much??? either way, I enjoy writing this. and idk how to shut up, clearly, because I love that internal mind talk shit. Drop your thoughts in my inbox or PM me because I love to yap!!! xoxo, kisses!!! <3

Masterlist

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He was a fool. A spoiled, arrogant and entitled fool. You often thought about whether Aemond actually recognised the effect of his actions on anyone else. It was always ‘I did it for us’ or ‘I did it because I had to do it’.

So after your confrontation the day before, it had surprised you that Aemond had truly believed he was forgiven. Maybe it shouldn’t have. You had, after all, sat beside him and laughed with him. Shared a moment as if things were better. But it was nothing more than a lighthearted acknowledgement that whatever game was being played was entirely ridiculous yet you could feel how something had changed. There was a newfound intensity between the two of you and Aemond had clearly understood that he had made a mistake

But that wouldn't be enough for forgiveness. Things would never really be the same. You will never forget. The nameless woman had made a home in your unconscious mind and everything would remind you of the woman your husband had chosen to take to bed over you. She was beautiful, she was experienced and free of burden. Based on that alone a part of you could see why she could have been a better choice–a part of you that ached and pained ceaselessly. 

And you weren’t sure you could carry on as if Aemond hadn’t thrown your entire world into the pits of ruin. Because that is exactly what he may as well have done. All you had was your marriage to him–a fact that was as painful as it was true. If it all fell apart because of him only you would suffer from it. 

Your name, your family’s name. A Lady born to a house of remarkably lowly nobility with little more than your marriage to the prince. A charity case marriage to tell the realm’s people that the Crown was not so prejudiced as to be above uniting with the likes of your house. That the Lannisters and Baratheons were important but they were not everything. A fabrication only made necessary to cover up the fact that it was a lie–the Targaryens (and even the Hightowers as you had come to realise) really did believe they were of better blood. 

A failure to fulfil your duty to the Targaryen crown as Prince Aemond’s wife would destroy your family name. And you would have no prospect of happiness after it. What else did you have aside from this?

Aemond would never understand that. Because not only was he a man but he was a prince. A privilege, a safety and a security he had inherited through birth. 

Aside from the pressures of society, he had hurt you. Badly. 

Despite your own confliction about it, you did have love for Aemond–how could you not? Love came from many things and while yours may have come from your dependance on his word, on the duty he performed to be your protector as he was to the Crown and its subjects, on his polite affections as limited as they were, it still found its way into your heart. Perhaps it was foolish to allow it entry into your existence when you had already known that there was no love to come from Aemond. 

It didn’t change anything. Betrayed your trust, taken you for granted and destroyed the sanctity of a husband’s loyalty as if he were as dishonourable as any other Lord. 

You would never say it out loud but it had broken your heart. And heartache is a consuming, suffocating and painful thing to feel. A constant lump in your throat, something always weighing your chest down, a disastrous, aching discomfort in your belly. Tears had stained your pillow at night and dried by the morning, the fabric of the linen acquiring the same unphased facade that you would wear as you plastered on a mask of ignorance so that you could continue to live through your day. 

All because you had wanted him. Aemond, who was doomed to disappoint and destroy merely because that is all that princes do. 

For him to have mistaken your truce–the end to the back and forth game that had been wreaking havoc in its wake-as forgiveness was infuriating. He had no idea. 

Well, maybe he did. Now that he had seen you with another just as you had seen him. And you recognised your own experience in the moment he had realised what was happening. 

Aemond’s call to breakfast made you want to laugh. But you had turned him down for afternoon tea just the day before only to be found swallowing his brother’s seed. You winced at the shamefulness of your thought, muttering a quick prayer for the sake of your piety whether it was genuine or not. 

He was seated lazily in the chair he favoured, an array of food spread across the table. There was a book in his hand. The same one he had taken from you the last time you had shared your morning meal together. Aemond had a smirk playing on his lips. 

You cleared your throat, curtsying before sitting down at the other end of the table to him and with as much distance between you as you could muster. “Good morrow, my Prince,”

“Formalities, I see,” He looked at you through his lashes. It was odd seeing him so relaxed, the tension that was always in his shoulders had been lost and there was a playful glint to his eye. You wanted to smack it out. “I believed we were past titles and distance for the sake of propriety, my sweet. As well as rigid greetings.”

All you responded with was a stare. 

Dropping the book to his side, Aemond sighed and leaned forward, pouring tea into a cup. He stood, taking a couple steps forward to hand it to you. “We have fixed-”

“We have fixed nothing.”

“I am trying to turn a new leaf,” he commanded. You took the cup and saucer from his hand, the warm waft of vanilla and rose giving you a slight reprieve from the threat that rolled off his tongue. “If you do not recall, dear wife, I as well have every reason to resent you. The image of you sucking on my useless brother’s cock is not one I can easily bare. Yet I have chosen to let it be. I could have easily decided otherwise.”

“That would make you a hypocrite.” You glanced at him over the rim of your teacup. 

“It does not matter much if I am a hypocrite, does it?” Aemond sat, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He wasn’t bothered with the food in front of him, focused solely on you. “I hardly see how that would change anything.”

You squirmed under the intensity of his stare, picking up a cherry from the bowl of fruits and rolling the stem between your fingers. “It matters to me. Certainly, it matters for your reputation among the smallfolk. Nobody cares for a selfish prince, my dear.”

Aemond hummed, smirking at the venom you spat at him. You noticed the coin that he rolled between his fingers, nimble and thoughtless as if it were like breathing. Not so much a nervous habit but a thoughtful one. 

He couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t enjoy your confidence. It was refreshing. But there was a dip in his gut at the thought that there was no hope for the two of you. Aemond, ever logical, knew he had no one else to blame but himself with his lack of foresight and failure to see beyond the now and here. 

Because Aemond had not even considered how things would go on should you not forgive him. He had assumed that you would if not merely on the basis that there was little lost from a relationship that hardly existed in the first place. You had love for him and he was so convinced that such a thing would be impossible that he didn’t consider that it would cause you heartache beyond slighted offence and jealousy. 

A violet eye lingered on the cherry that remained between your fingers. Aemond was good at putting on an act. He thought for a moment that he would rather take lashes to his back than have you know that he had no idea how to love someone properly. A part of him was persuaded that he was incapable of being a good lover. The lashes seemed like a blissful gift compared to the self-loathing that simmered in his belly at the probability that he had ruined any chance your marriage had of recovery.  

It crossed his mind that it was his ignorance towards you right from the beginning that had damned your relationship. 

Either way, it did not help that you had turned to his brother for intimacy. Aemond felt his blood scorch whenever that invaded his mind. He wanted to crumble the walls of this fortress when he wondered if Aegon had enjoyed your womanhood. Jealousy did motivate him well, he realised, and Aemond had the murderous urge to feed Aegon to Vhagar. 

Nonetheless, he feigned amusement. “It seems as if you care for one.”

You ate the cherry. It was sweet and rich. All you replied with was an upturn of your chin as you gracefully held a small embroidered towel to your lips.

“So I am not forgiven?” Aemond had to break the silence before it cut him open. “Are we not even?”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you held back a surprised laugh. “You never apologised. Not that it would make any difference.”

“That does not answer my question.”

“Of course you are not forgiven,” you sighed. The tea cup hit the table with a clang. Your disdain for his actions and his ignorance gave you an unfettered confidence around him which you weren’t accustomed to. It made it very difficult to control yourself. “And no, we are not even, my Prince. And since you have brought it to my attention, I am of half a mind to find Aegon and offer him a meal between my thighs. You see, I have often wondered how it would feel and I expect that our King would be happy to indulge my… curiosities.”

Aemond sneered, a silent one that was more visible in his intake of a breath, the curl of his lips and the hardening of his eye. Bullseye. 

It took him less than a couple seconds to be on his knees in front of where you sat, a strong hand tightly gripping each side of your thighs over the thick fabrics of your dress. He had shoved the table aside, unphased as tea spilled and fruits and cheeses toppled to the floor. Something in the look of bewilderment on your face had Aemond ready to both grin at your clueless innocence and frown at your shock.

Aemond didn’t let himself dwell on the fact that you had given up on expecting such pleasures from him. He was your husband; nothing about what he was clearly intending on doing to you should surprise you. Cursing himself to perdition would not be enough for how he has failed you. 

“I feel obliged to remind you that we had agreed,” he grazed his nose across your knees, looking up at you through his eyelashes, jaw clenched tight as he all but growled his words. “That there will be no more of this foolishness. Not from you and not from me.”

It was an onslaught of different things that had rendered you still and silent. The way Aemond looked at you like you were the only satiating force for his eternal hunger, the wordless mixture of desire and anger in how his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, the desperation in his voice, strained by the fear that you would. Or was it the overwhelming feeling that Aemond was finally taking some accountability and that maybe he recognised not what his actions were but the meaning that they carried?

For a moment Aemond just looked at you, conflicted and fragmented and unguarded. The sight of him like this reminded you of a vulnerable child. But it didn’t last long before the menacing, cautionary glint was back in his eye, his posture becoming rigid as shuffled the fabrics of your skirts. 

A new kind of anxiety overcame you. Not like the insignificant nervousness you had felt that night when you had wandered into his chambers or used his leg to make yourself peak and not like the clueless apprehension with Aegon. It formed a ball in your chest and made it hard to breathe. 

There was no chance he would ever admit it but you could see Aemond’s vulnerability and desperation within the hardened facade he had perfected. He wanted nothing more than to seem strong and powerful at all times, worthy of acclaim and reverence. But here he was, willing to stay on his knees and worship you forever, all under the pretence of rageful infatuation. 

It was too hot. Even with the cool of the shadows cast by the dark net curtains that only let in enough daylight to see clearly and not enough to cause Aemond irritation from sensitivity in his eye, it was so warm you worried you would have to rip the sleeves off of your dress.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Aemond let out a soft, dark groan, running his fingers across the expanse of your legs over your stockings, your skirts already bunched at your hips. Skin burning at his touch, you couldn’t help the way you whined and squeezed your thighs together, squirming under the intensity of his gaze. 

His voice was heavy with the burden of lust and regret. “I will be better. In all the ways that I have failed you and more. Your forgiveness, I realise, is not as easily granted as I presumed but I will show you that I am worthy of it.” 

There was a moment of weakness in your mind before you caught yourself. You didn’t quite believe him. It had clearly been too easy for him to give you empty promises and there was no reason why things would be different now. 

It was odd. Seeing Aemond weak like this. 

What would it mean if you let him continue? It was clearly different this time. You couldn’t put it into words exactly but there was a rawness, a blitz of different emotions that set things ablaze and made you want to both weep and mewl for him. 

You couldn’t spare a thought about why it was different. Aemond was right there, a weaponised Prince on his knees for you, a lowly Lady with nothing more to offer him than yourself. Since when did you hold all this power over him? 

That night in his bedchambers and last night when you had shared a laugh despite everything that had unfolded felt detached in a way. When you had allowed yourself release over his leg it was simply that. A way to ease the tension he had put in your body and a way to leave him wanting.

Aemond’s eye swam with a tenderness you had not seen from him. He continued to look up at you waiting to gauge your response. It was a slight nod of your head which had his hands tearing at the soft fabric of your stockings, his lips instantly meeting the skin of your knees before you had the chance to even gasp. All the while, he kept his eye on you as if his heart would cease to beat if he could not watch the way you reacted to him. 

It became increasingly harder to breathe. There were so many thoughts, so many sensations that you struggled to put it all together. Your flushed with anticipation, your cunt throbbed at the wet plushness of his lips on your hot skin and your hips squirmed at what was to come. 

Your mind, however, flashed with the image of Aemond, exactly as he was now, between another woman’s thighs. A woman who didn’t flinch at the unfamiliar touch, who didn’t jerk away at the foreign feeling of being pleasured. You wondered if he would be so angered at the prospect of another man’s mouth on her womanhood, if her skin felt softer or more rough on his lips and if he looked at her with the same heated need.

It made you feel sick. 

Aemond let himself enjoy the way your thighs tensed, pulling your smallclothes off of you as much as carefully as he could under the restriction of your skirts. There was an urge to rip the entire dress off but he knew it would be a step too far. He couldn’t help the low sounds that left him, sounds he couldn’t recognise. The expanse of your thighs and the sight of your flushed, hot cunt in front of him made his mouth water with a hunger that would have shocked him had he not been so distracted by your scent. 

Without complete vision, Aemond had learned to train his sense of touch, taste, smell and hearing to make up for the disadvantage he was stuck with. They were always slightly heightened compared to those who never needed the compensation of senses but in the cloud of desire and lust, he was sensitive. 

You whined at the way his tongue glided over your skin, biting down hard but not hard enough to be painful on the flesh of your upper thigh so close to where you needed to feel him. But Aemond was always remarkably patient and he merely made way to your other leg, repeating his ministrations and licking you from your knee to where he bit you at your thigh. 

The haze that had possessed you made you lose track of your thoughts so easily. Still, they fought their way to the forefront of your mind at every chance they could and you were reminded of her. 

Aemond’s mind was overwhelmed by you. There was no power in the realm that could make him think of anything else, not with the way you were trembling under his feathered touch and making such beautiful sounds for him, and not when he desired for anyone else apart from you. 

A heavy breath of shame and excitement tumbled out of you at how lewdly he dragged the tip of his nose across your thigh, pressing it into the flesh that sat above your slick, aching cunt and inhaling. You clenched around nothing, your clit twitching at the sound of Aemond’s unabashed groan. 

He grasped at your hips and your legs, his fingers burying into your flesh and tugging as if there would never be enough of you in his hands. It would have driven you into a similarly desperate state had things been different. 

The prince between your thighs was a sight to behold. Aemond’s skin was flushed pink, his eyepatch slightly out of place and his hair tousled from the way your legs clenched and unclenched against his head. He was almost drooling, mumbling about how good you smelled and how perfect and pretty your cunt was for him. His cock had never been so hard, constricted by the stiff leather of his training attires. 

Aemond enjoyed being a tease but there was only so much he could handle himself. While he wanted you to crave for him the way he was craving you so unbearably, Aemond needed to taste you. He needed to make you feel the blinding pleasure he should have been giving you at every chance he had since the night you were married. He needed to show you the ways of unbridled human desire and to show you all the ways your body could come undone and fall apart only to feel completely whole and fulfilled. 

There was no changing the past but Aemond would make up for how completely inattentive he had been. He would show you all the more fervently. When Aemond placed an open mouthed kiss just above your slit, letting a string of his spit glide off of his tongue onto your sensitive pussy, you shuddered.

All at once your mind was once again taken over by unsavoury thoughts. It had your eyes welling with tears, a familiar lump lodging in your throat, threatening to come out in a devastated sob. There was a ringing in your ears and you were back at Aemond’s door, peeking in only to see him giving that woman the same touch he was giving you right now. He had seemed so enthralled by her and the way she must have tasted. It was as if he’d been there before, indulging in her with so much passion it rivalled how eagerly touched you in this moment. 

Did her smell fill his veins with fire as yours was? Did her scent alone make his cock as painfully hard as yours did? Did her cunt drip for him the way yours did? Was the hunger in his eye shining for her too?

It was terrifying to consider. 

Aemond would spend hours here, he had decided. His duties for the day could be damned to the hells for all he cared. There was a rumbling in his chest for what he saw in front of him, inviting him to indulge and filling his mind with senseless ardour. Aemond let himself enjoy just the scent of you, his eye fluttering shut and his nose gently resting above your folds as he breathed you in, caressing your thighs softly with his hands. As if he were starved for years, Aemond salivated and with no patience left within him, he brought his lips downwards to meet the precious cunt he had been dreaming of. 

With a whimper that you couldn’t hold back, you jerked away from him. Aemond pulled away in surprise, his gaze full of confusion and lust and insecurity. “Wait, my love—“

You had slipped free of his grasp, a strangled cry escaping no matter how hard you tried to keep it in. There was one tear that slipped free, followed by countless more and you couldn’t look at him anymore, couldn’t bear to see that he was hurt before scrambling away from him. 

She was stuck in your mind. The memory of Aemond’s little trysts with her replaying behind your eyes no matter how hard you tried to shut it out. It was clear that there was nothing you could do to get ahold of yourself because everytime you looked at him, so enthralled in you and your sex, she was there. 

Laughing at you in the back of your mind, as if she had taken residence in a permanent place in your head, enjoying the state of despair and madness she and Aemond had led you to. 

But she couldn’t be in your head. Not really. Not in the way it felt she was. 

You barely glanced back at Aemond through your tears, struggling to even your breathing and calm the rapid beating of your heart. He hadn’t moved much; just simply stayed there frowning at the space that you had once occupied on the chair. 

There was nothing he could do to change things. Aemond knew that as well as you did. But there was a pain in your heart at the way he looked so defeated, so guilty that it almost seemed like he would melt into a puddle of remorse. A far stretch from the usual stoic warrior that you had known him as.

“My prince, I–” you swallowed, your voice catching when he looked up at you with a wide eye and furrowed eyebrows. For a moment you remembered that he had no right - but he was trying, was he not? “I cannot continue with this knowing that you had touched her like this. It angers me and it upsets me and it pains me to think of it but ‘tis beyond my control.”

He stayed silent, observing the way you hid yourself from him and struggled to meet his gaze. There was a sullen look to you, one you had not entered with and it stuck needles in his flesh to think that he had been the cause of it. Aemond’s entire body felt hot and he was itching to tear off his leathers. He wished the gods would strike him down as he was for hurting you so.

You had turned away, disappearing from his quarters swiftly. You would never forget the image of how you had left him there–it was both satisfying and devastating. 

Aemond, still on his knees for the ghost of you, his expression tortured and his shoulders tensed. It was a pathetic sight, should anyone stumble upon it, but you considered it beautiful. Beautiful in a lethal, catastrophic manner. Not unlike himself; a weaponised source of destruction who had a tendency to bring torment upon those he loved. 

The rest of your day had been spent alone in your chambers. You hadn’t cried so much over any of it until now. The tears and sobs that you had held inside of yourself for weeks had forced themselves out, along with the emotions you had pushed down until you could no longer. 

Aemond had a certain control while you were sitting in that seat, skirts bunched to your stomach and quivering for him to have his way. Regardless, the power was still yours and you knew that it was Aemond who was wrapped tightly around your finger at that moment. He would have listened to anything you had said–done anything you had told him to do. 

Perhaps you had become too stubborn in your anger to have let yourself feel anything else. A retributive anger; one that sprouted from the lack of love that existed in your marriage and reached a climax at Aemond’s brazen adultery. And it only grew stronger in whatever back and forth Aemond had encouraged by dangling his whore in front of your face. 

Whatever it was, you were feeling so much more now than you had before. 

Or perhaps it was because you could see that Aemond was remorseful. He would never yet admit it but you knew from the way he had behaved since you had visited him in his bed. It was no act of redemption and definitely no apology but it was impossible to ignore the change in him. You had never seen Aemond the way you had seen him this morning. 

Vulnerable, gentle, tormented. 

A knock on your door had you sniffling and wiping away any tear stains that may have lingered on your cheeks. You had stopped crying for some time but the need to wallow and lament had stayed. When you called out to ask, the guard at your door notified you of the Dowager Queen’s presence. 

Oh, seven hells. 

There was really no chance you could refuse her so you merely let her in and called a servant to bring some refreshments. Queen Alicent sat herself down but remained tense, carefully watching you as you took a place beside her. 

“Have you been crying?” Her concern was comforting. “I believe I know why.”

You straightened, not meeting the eye of the woman who reached a tender hand to your knee. Hiding behind a forced smile, you let out a breathy laugh. “I am certain the entirety of the Red Keep knows, Your Grace.”

“It has been known for some time,” Alicent was gentle, her cautionary gaze telling you that she was apprehensive about bringing her son’s misadventures up. You held your breath. “Since the first time he had summoned that Alys woman-”

“Alys? Is that her name?”

“You do not know?” There was a tense silence. Alicent couldn’t meet your gaze, pity swimming across her features. Aemond was her son and there were many things that she had let her sons get away with but her heart pained at the broken quiver in your voice. 

Alicent had noticed the change in Aemond since the night that you had found him with Alys. The second time. He had never paid much attention to you aside from what appearances required yet Alicent knew her son far more than he would be willing to accept. She had known that there was something in his heart for you, no matter how small and no matter how it dwindled until set alight. 

Aemond had done the wrong thing. She had no doubts about that. Alicent would have words with him once she figured out what to say to him. But he was her son and there were certain misdoings that she knew she had to defend them through. To protect his marriage, his image and his happiness. The Queen Dowager cleared her throat and reached for your hand, eyebrows furrowing at the way you stared down at your lap, the anguish you felt in your heart written clearly across your face. 

“I understand that you are hurting, my dear. Although my husband remained faithful to me until his death and I cannot quite imagine the pain in your heart–I see how you have love for my son, even if you nor him have known it, I do understand,” Alicent took a breath, closing her eyes. “This is the way of men. And princes–”

“Please, Your Grace, I mean this with utmost respect for you but I do not wish to hear your excuses,” you whispered. There was a prickly, breathless worry that had settled in your gut. What did you not know? Was this Alys someone who mattered? “But I would like to know what you are withholding from me about this woman. I believe I deserve that at the very least.”

Alicent stared at you for a moment, examining you. She could drive her son further into the ground with what she was about to say. “Aemond had a paramour–at least it was rumoured, he never spoke of such things with me. Alys Rivers, a wetnurse and servant woman from Harrenhal.”

“A paramour?”

“It was before you were married,” Alicent was quick to clarify. “I had assumed that Aemond wanted nothing more to do with her when she left–at his order, I believe. Some say she was a witch. Perhaps she enchanted him.” 

You couldn’t look at her. She was more than just a whore? Had he lied to you right from the beginning? Bile rose up in your throat. There was a thrum in your ears, the sound of your own heartbeat and you feared that you would be sick from the drop in your gut. 

“Did he love her? Could he still?”

Alicent sucked in a breath. “I do not know, my child.”

All you could do was nod pathetically. Alicent was a woman of great strength and dedication; you had once wished to be much like her one day. But as you sat beside her now, you wished she had been a liar and a cheat and a meddling gossip. That you could find a way to fault her words but you could tell it caused her great difficulty to speak of Aemond’s actions honestly. 

Ever poised and elegant, Alicent only leaned forward to you, her posture straight as a needle and her touch soft as linen. “I did not mean to upset you further. I only meant to speak with you about returning to Courtly activities, with the other Ladies and Helaena has been asking for you. And the Ladies speak–”

“They speak terribly of me,” you scoffed, allowing a humourless laugh. “I understand, Your Grace. I will return to spending my days in company other than my own.”

Alicent hated to pry but she felt that she must, now that she had dealt her cards against Aemond’s fate. “Perhaps you should speak with Aemond. He cares for you deeply. It would be a shame for your union to fall apart over such misunderstandings.”

If not for formality, you would have rolled your eyes. Again, you simply nodded, your mind reeling back to the woman that Alicent had given a name to. You would ask Aemond about her. It would be the less damning option rather than turning to Aegon once more but the idea of speaking to Aemond about a woman he may once have loved still made you want to crawl underneath the sheets of your bed and disappear. 

You thought of the woman who you had seen through the crack in the door and wished you had taken extra care in looking at her. There was little you could recall other than the darkness and length of her hair, the paleness of her skin and the perfection in her curves as she pleasured Aemond and as he did the same for her. 

As if she was familiar with all the things that made him weak. All the things that made Aemond weak. How she had touched him like she was an expert in his body. And you thought of Aemond, bare and comfortable with her. Aemond with his sapphire glimmering under the lamplight instead of an eye, a rawness and trust that you had never seen of him until that night. 

He trusted her.

Alys Rivers. 

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