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kamaluhkhan · 8 months

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GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you wanted revenge on luke castellan)

read part one — THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis!reader (afab, she/her pronouns)

summary: you were very angry and possibly still in love with luke castellan. kill him or kiss him — you still weren't sure what he deserved.

warnings/disclaimers: spoilers for season 1 of pjo + lots of book references. reader + luke are around 21 for most of this. rough? smut (p in v, oral f+m receiving, biting, scratching, slight choking, etc...) 18 + MDNI ! injuries + blood + violence. reader and others drink alcohol + smoke. lots of angst!!! luke + reader have matching tattoos. twilight + other pop culture references. reader kinda gives 'hell is a teenage girl in her 20s' vibes. maybe slightly toxic dynamic between reader + luke but we love complicated relationships ♡

author's note: thank u so much for all the love on part one!! i got a bit carried away with this one oops, but i hope y'all enjoy it :)

♪: "get him back" by olivia rodrigo

(i. he had a savior complex)

if you were less consumed by anger, you might have noticed the sound of his footsteps following closely behind you.

no one was supposed to go into the forest alone, but you were 17 and reckless and not at all concerned about breaking the rules, especially if it meant proving clarisse larue wrong.

you ventured into the woods, farther than you'd ever been before, with nothing except your knife and a chest full of determination to prove that you were strong and brave just like any other demigod, regardless of if you had a cabin or not.

you were younger then, less disillusioned, and more willing to buy into those fantasies of power and glory, spoon-fed to demigods as truth. one that you hoped to cross off that afternoon: being worthy of attention if you could sink your blade into the next monster that dared to cross your path.

everyone would see that you’re not just some little, powerless girl with no reason to be at camp.

and, sure, there was a small but not insignificant part of you that hoped your mother was watching, that she’d finally notice how much of a hero you could be.

you could have died that afternoon. you put up a decent fight, but soon enough you found yourself fallen to the forest floor: blade down, broken arm, bleeding out. a manticore inches away from sending you to the underworld.

you weren’t angry anymore, the adrenaline had left your body. you just were a scared child, silently praying to deities you hoped wouldn’t look away like they always do.

i’m sorry, mom. i couldn’t do it.

you closed your eyes, waited for your fate, and just when you thought all hope was lost —

the sound of a sword ripping through flesh, an injured growl, and then nothing but your ragged breathing.

your eyelids fluttered open.

it wasn't your mother, or any of the other gods, who jumped in to save your life.

standing in the middle of the clearing, gripping his sword, was luke castellan.

he tucked annabeth’s invisibility cap into his back pocket and brought you to the infirmary.

"she's okay, though?" luke asked. he was watching you carefully, ashes from the manticore dusting his orange camp shirt. his arms were crossed, and it seemed that he managed to defeat the monster relatively unscathed.

lee fletcher, son of apollo, nodded as he set your injury.

"nothing more than a broken arm and minor concussion. make sure your girl gets lots of rest, okay? no more monster hunting. probably has to sit out capture the flag tomorrow, too.”

you ignored the churning in your stomach when lee assumed you were luke’s girl. luke didn’t bother correcting him.

lee left to get you some ambrosia to speed the healing process, leaving you and luke alone in the room.

“you know, i’m not a damsel in distress you have to follow around, waiting to save. i’m not your girl.”

“seriously?” he raised an eyebrow, but his cheeks became slightly flushed. “you would be dead if it wasn’t for me. i heard what happened with clarisse, but gods — you didn’t have to go and get yourself killed to prove something.”

he was right, of course. part of you wanted to argue with him for always having to be the hero, but the fight lingering in your throat wasn’t enough to act on. you just sighed and looked away, feeling too impulsive and powerless and exhausted down to your bones.

you felt the bed dip beside you, and then a hand on your shoulder. it was warmer than usual, but the calloused skin still felt familiar on yours.

“they’re not worth it, okay? that’s what you’re always telling me.”

luke’s voice was lower than before, a touch of bitterness laced through.

“yeah, well you never believe it,” you replied, voice hollow. “so why should i?”

clarisse entered the infirmary before he could answer. luke was instantly on his feet, blocking you from her view, hand on the hilt of his sword.

“what are you doing here?” he practically growled.

“i heard what happened,” clarisse explained, looking past luke to catch your eye. you waved at her with your newly applied cast. “i’m sorry about what i said earlier, if that had anything to do with it.”

at that point, you were still trying to figure out where you stood with clarisse. she had arrived at camp just before the new year. you’d been so used to new campers being younger than you, and it was nice to have someone the same age to be friends with.

it wasn’t until the start of march, around two weeks ago, that ares had claimed her. ever since, there had been a newfound animosity between you, leading up to your explosive argument earlier that day. part of you had a feeling she was just trying to fit in with her siblings. it was a subtle thread woven throughout the camp, especially with the ares kids: this hierarchy of power according to the gods, with you on the lower end because your mother was only a minor goddess.

needless to say, it wasn’t anything you hadn’t heard before; it was just that the words pierced through your thick skin when coming from a friend.

but the very fact that she came to visit you, that she apologized and seemed to regret that you’d gotten hurt, healed you more than the ambrosia lee was just coming back to give you.

“thanks, clarisse,” you said after a mouthful of ambrosia.

even with an established truce, luke didn’t move away from you. in fact, he puffed his chest out a bit more.

“if you say anything like that to her again, i swear to all the gods —”

“i just said sorry, castellan,” clarisse scoffed. “now get out of the way so i can sign her cast.”

clarisse attempted to move closer, but luke stayed planted where he was.

“you are not getting anywhere close to her,” luke warned.

“easy, tiger.” you got up to put your hand on his arm, but luke jerked away from your touch. your fingers brushed against his skin however, and even that brief moment was enough to shock you with its temperature. you tried again, this time bringing a hand to his neck, and he let out a hiss upon contact. his pulse seemed quicker than normal.

“are you feeling okay?”

“i’m just fine,” he huffed, and stormed out of the infirmary.

a few days later, you were training with clarisse, when silena beauregard ran into the arena and interrupted you.

“it’s luke,” she coughed, out of breath. “he’s in the infirmary—”

you sprinted towards the big house before silena could finish her sentence.

when you reached the infirmary, luke was being held back by lee and a few others, screaming that he needed to go find you or you’d die. he was holding his sword, and campers wrestled to remove it from his grip. the sleeve of his shirt lifted up slightly, and that was when you noticed it: a gash across his bicep, shallow, but turning a sickly green. the rest of his skin was flushed, his eyes frantically searching for someone — you — and he was breathing heavily between sentences.

it turned out that he’d gone the entire week with the wound festering. one of the manticore’s spikes must have grazed luke, and he hadn’t thought much of it because he was so focused on making sure you were okay.

manticore poison could fuck with someone’s mind if not treated right away. worse: it could be fatal.

despite your heart beating out of your chest and the chaos you walked into, you kept your voice gentle, but firm.

“luke.”

for a moment, everything stood still. luke froze, and the campers took the opportunity to get a better hold on him.

he blinked at you and shook his head. “no. no. you’re not her. i heard her screaming from the forest and - and she’s in trouble. i need to —”

“it’s me, tiger,” you assured him.

you approached him carefully and, despite some whispers of warning, you gestured at everyone to let go of him completely. they might have had a point, because as soon as they did, the tip of his sword was dangerously close to your chin.

“you’re not her,” he insisted. “you’re just some monster trying to trick me.”

you stood in front of him then, and slowly raised your arm to show him your cast. a few people had signed it — beckendorf, chris, clarisse, silena. luke had signed his name too, of course, along with a poor attempt at a cartoon tiger that made you all laugh.

“see? it’s me. i’m okay.”

there were a few moments when you held your breath, feeling the celestial bronze dig into your skin a bit more. and then:

“it’s…you. you’re….okay?”

luke’s speech was slightly slurred. he dropped his sword like it suddenly weighed a thousand pounds; it nicked you on its way down. you didn’t care though, because luke almost fell to the ground, too.

you gripped his wrist to steady him.

“you’re probably not okay, though,” you explained, well aware of the urgency of the situation. his pulse felt weaker by the second, his skin burning against yours.

“i’m….i’m fine. i just need to — she’s gonna die if i don’t —”

“i’m right here. i’m here because you already saved me, remember? you saved me, but you got hurt.”

he shook his head slowly, and his eyes started to flutter close.

“no, i’m okay,” he breathed, his voice smaller than you’d ever heard it. “i need to make sure y/n is okay. she needs me….”

you swallowed the lump in your throat, seeing him start to fade away right in front of you.

you refused to lose hope.

no — you wouldn’t watch luke castellan die.

“i’m here, luke.” you gripped his wrist even tighter to remind him.

“but —”

“just rest for a minute, ” you insisted, guiding him towards a bed. “for me, okay?”

as soon as you managed to get luke onto the bed and, more importantly, calm, everyone else sprung back into action.

chiron was away for the week, so will solace — one of the younger apollo campers, but probably the best healer at camp — used some healing magic, while lee misted luke with cold water to cool him down and another kid dripped some nectar onto his wound.

luke hissed when the liquid seeped into his skin and reached out for you. you felt like the flesh might melt right off your bones, but you let him squeeze your hand for as long as he needed. somebody came around to put a bandage on your chin, too.

you'd always resented the gods, but that was the first time you'd really lost your faith in them. watching luke fight for his life even after saving yours, other demigods joining the battle, and you thinking: this is the life you cursed us with. you imagined the gods, with power to twist fate in their favor, simply enjoying a feast on mount olympus, hermes sipping nectar and not even aware that another one of his children is dying. you supposed your mother wasn’t any better either. her neglect felt like revenge for something you didn’t even know you had done.

after a while, the skin around luke’s wound lost its greenish hue. you released a deep breath when both lee and will declared that luke seemed to be on the mend — he just needed to get some rest, and, best case scenario, the poison should have run its course by morning.

you didn’t ask about the worst case scenario.

you estimated it was around 2 am when you heard luke’s voice again.

“cold,” was all he said through shivering teeth.

you wordlessly grabbed as many blankets as you could, and tucked them around luke. you waited a few minutes to see if it helped.

“so - so cold,” he shivered again. you reached out to check luke’s pulse, and all you could find was the faintest heartbeat. his skin looked pale in the moonlight and now felt ice cold despite his high fever earlier.

no one else was in the infirmary then. you were wracking your brain to remember what you had learned in demigod survival class about hypothermia. something about warm drinks? you ran to the kitchen and made him a cup of hot chocolate — with cinnamon, just how he liked it.

you whispered his name once you were back at his bedside. his eyelids fluttered open. you tried coaxing him to take the drink, but he wouldn’t even hold the mug. you didn’t think twice about climbing into bed next to him, gently sitting him upright against the headboard so that you could offer him tiny sips. you noticed then that he was still only wearing a tank top, so you took off your sweatshirt — which happened to be one of luke’s — and slid it on him.

when the hot chocolate was done, luke sighed. some of the color returned to his face, and his teeth stopped chattering.

“thanks, karma.”

you just hummed in response, setting the mug down on the nightstand beside you and twisting underneath the blankets. luke settled back down next to you. he brushed his thumb over the band-aid on your chin.

“what happened? did clarisse —”

“easy, tiger. it’s nothing — just a little scratch,” you replied.

you spared him from the whole truth. sure, there was a moment earlier when you didn’t know whether or not luke would hurt you. it was only a split second, because that wasn’t your luke. he shouldn’t have had to live with the guilt of something he did by accident, as a result of a poisoned mind.

“anyways, i should be thanking you. you’re the one who almost died saving my life. you were hanging by a thread just a few seconds ago. it seems like you’re not completely out of the woods yet.”

“well, i guess the fates are still deciding what to do with me.” he cracked a smile.

it was a bit morbid, given what you’d been through the past 12 hours, and the fact that the manticore venom clearly hadn’t left his body completely. the possibility of his death had not completely disappeared, though you supposed that, as demigods, the risk always remained higher.

fuck the gods. they weren’t your protectors. they weren’t your family.

the campers who put their whole heart into healing you and luke, the boy who risked his life for you — they were your family.

you took luke’s humor as a good sign. the luke castellan you knew — confident banter, radiant grin, heart of gold — was coming back to you.

the luke castellan you would not allow die, even if you could still feel the cool bronze of his blade linger on your chin.

(ii. he had an ego)

according to annabeth chase, it was statistically improbable for a demigod to reach drinking age. something always kills them first - a monster, a blade, a fatal flaw. the likelihood of survival only gets exponentially lower with each passing year.

she repeated that information to luke on the morning of his 21st birthday.

“thanks for the cheerful birthday wishes, sis.”

annabeth shrugged and hugged him before walking back to the athena table to finish breakfast.

"you hear that, tiger?” you pointed a syrupy fork at luke. “you are literally saying fuck you to fate, just by being alive."

"that’s the way i like it," luke quipped, and stole a blueberry from your plate.

"hey man, happy birthday." chris patted luke’s shoulder on his way to sit across from you and luke. "so, i just talked to chiron and he agreed to let us go out tonight."

you smiled between bites of your pancakes, reaching over to offer chris a triumphant fist bump.

“nice work, rodriguez.”

"we're going out tonight?"

you pressed your knee to luke's under the table.

"of course we are," you hummed. "we have a lot to celebrate."

so, you, luke, chris, and a few of your friends — beckendorf, silena, and clarisse — went into the city to celebrate. one of luke's favorite bands was playing, and you had managed to snag a few tickets. you'd all entered a bar confidently that night, the fake ids you were at once so giddy and paranoid about no longer needed.

there were few times when you could all just kick back and have fun, without having to worry about the responsibilities of being senior counselors. that night, you were all itching for a taste of freedom. or, at least, some alcohol.

"happy birthday to the one and only luke castellan: a hero by any other name!"

everyone raised their shot glasses, echoed beckendorf's words, and threw back their drinks.

the night became louder, more vibrant. yet, even as you laughed and drank and danced with your friends, there was a heaviness lingering in your chest.

for most demigods, birthdays were bittersweet. each one served as a reminder of time running out because of exactly what annabeth said that morning. most half-bloods don’t even live past their teens, let alone the age of 20. you had the blood of gods flowing in your veins, and your lives were influenced by sinister, divine forces from ancient times. you were the new generation of heroes, protagonists of those greek tragedies that made mortals weep.

there was no guarantee that this would last forever, but all of your friends — the people you loved — had beat the odds.

so, who would blame you for getting a little sentimental?

beckendorf and chris had wandered off to play pool, in hopes of winning some bets and free drinks. clarisse was flirting with some girl who caught her eye, and silena went to grab some water after having danced for a bit. you and luke were still in the crowd, swaying to the music. for one glorious moment, you were just a group of twenty-one year olds enjoying a carefree night out.

under the flashing lights, you stole a glimpse at luke. he wore a simple white tank top and ripped jeans, paired with a leather jacket and some rings he borrowed from you so he could, in his words, look more punk-rock. his curls were messy, his skin glittering with a thin sheen of sweat. the chain he layered with his usual camp necklace caught the multicolored light and highlighted the sharp angles of his collarbones.

whatever aesthetic he was going for, luke looked good. based on various eyes following him throughout the room, you assumed others thought the same as well. it made you just a little bit furious, feeling that he wasn't only yours to admire.

“you good?” luke’s voice cut through the noise, but he had to lean in close.

his fingers brushed against the section of waist exposed by your cropped top. you’d gotten so warm that you had to tie your flannel around your waist, but luke’s touch sent a shiver through your body. it made you somewhat dizzy, feeling the cold metal of those rings on your skin. even moreso, when you realized how much you wanted to kiss your best friend, sink your teeth into his smirk and taste the mint chapstick and tequila on his lips.

to be fair, you and luke had crossed that line before, and you were in the fields of asphodel ever since.

not quite friendship, not quite romance. something deeper, more volatile and electric.

you didn’t want to make things blurrier than they already were, though. whatever you acted on that night could have just been dismissed the next morning as a drunken mistake.

so, you just nodded at him and turned back towards the band as though you were never thinking about anything more than the music.

after a few more songs, luke commanded your attention once more.

“hey, didn’t you once say you wanted to start a band?”

“what do i look like, a child of apollo?” you joked, but luke raised an eyebrow at you, clearly wanting a serious answer.

it was slightly alarming, how well he knew you; through your childhood dreams and down to your core.

“in another life,” you conceded. “maybe.”

“in another life,” luke echoed. he leaned in close again. “you’d be a pretty hot drummer, and i’d be front row at every show.”

your lips could have touched if you moved your head just an inch, but he pulled away before you did. he was giving you that classic son-of-hermes smirk, the one that made everyone swoon.

the thing was, you were sure that luke knew the effect he had on people. you had seen him continuously bask in the praise of chiron and other campers, always preening for the crowd's attention, as if he had to do anything more than smile. everyone loved luke — he was handsome, charismatic, strong.

and, yeah, you weren’t immune. your fatal flaw: not loyalty, or anger, or recklessness, but luke castellan’s charm.

you had to keep yourself grounded. it would be a bad idea to cross that line again on his birthday, right?

luke licked his lips as you kept staring at him. you could tell he was waiting for you to do something.

maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your veins or the rhythm of the music vibrating through your bones, but you started thinking — fuck it.

before you could act on that impulse, some person with bright red hair stepped between you and luke. she introduced herself, telling luke she saw him from across the room, and she'd been watching him all night, and would he by any chance want to dance with her?

luke seemed flattered, interested even. he flashed her the very same smile he had just given you, which left a bitter taste in your mouth. you excused yourself before you had to hear them flirt even more.

you walked over to silena at the bar. she had a half-empty glass of ice water melting in front of her, her attention somewhere else. you sat down beside her and followed her gaze to what — who — she was looking at.

“if confessing feelings to someone is hard for aphrodite’s daughter, then there’s really no hope for the rest of us,” you tell her.

silena whipped her head towards you. her cheeks were flushed a light pink.

“i - i don’t have feelings for clarisse.”

“lena, please. we all know. well, except maybe clarisse.”

“what?” she blinked at you, eyeshadow shimmering in the light.

“yeah,” you said with a small laugh. the irony of it all: the head counselor of cabin 10 denying that she was in love with someone. “we talk about it all the time.”

“well,” silena huffed, cheeks now a bright red. “i guess i should tell you that the rest of us talk about you and luke.”

you reached over to grab her water, your throat suddenly dry.

“what about us?” you asked after finishing the drink in one long sip.

“about how you obviously both have feelings for each other. half the camp already thinks you’re dating.”

you started to crunch on whatever ice was still frozen.

“well, we aren’t.”

that reality hurt more than the sharp pain piercing your brain from ingesting too much cold, too fast. you couldn’t even spot luke in the crowd — he and the redhead had probably gone off to some private corner.

“people think love’s a joke,” silena sighed. “but they don’t realize how much power it can have over a person. it can make people —”

“cowards?” you suggested.

silena nodded solemnly. “cowards.”

neither of you said anything for a while, two love-sick half-bloods slumped over a sticky bar counter.

suddenly, silena sat up straight. she tied her black hair up into a ponytail. perfect, of course, along with her makeup. you were sure you had sweat off the glitter she had applied to your cheeks earlier.

“i am not a coward.”

without another word, silena got up and glided towards clarisse, and you were left with an empty stool next to you.

part of you was proud of her for following her heart. the other part couldn’t stop picturing someone else’s tongue down luke’s throat.

“can i get a ginger-ale, please?” you asked no one in particular, hoping that the bartender heard your request for something to ease your nausea.

“you sure you don’t want anything stronger?”

someone slid onto the barstool next to you. he looked around your age, wearing a navy and red rugby shirt. he had what looked like a pretty expensive watch on his wrist, and he was already leaning in way too close for a stranger.

“i’m fine,” you deadpanned.

“oh, come sweetheart, it’s on me.”

you scoffed at the nickname and shook your head.

the guy next to you didn’t care. he snapped to get the bartender’s attention. “two vodka tonics, please. that’s your drink, right? i’m usually pretty good at guessing.”

“dude, i said i’m fine,” you repeated through clenched teeth.

the bartender set two drinks in front of you and rugby shirt pointed towards them.

“well, i already got you a drink, so you at least owe me a conversation.” he slid the drink closer to you.

"i don't owe you anything."

"oh, come on," rugby shirt cooed. "i don't bite." he slipped his hand underneath your skirt, nails scratching along the skin of your upper thigh, through your fishnets.

you growled at the contact and stood up abruptly, more than a little coincidentally knocked the glass over. the liquid splashed onto him. his flirtatious grin melted right off his face.

“jesus christ —you bitch,” he spat. “this is what i get for trying to be nice?”

“that’s what you get for trying to grope me,” you snapped. “but i could do a lot worse if you’re in the mood.”

his face was a pissed-off shade of red, his mouth formulating a response when —

you felt luke’s arm wrap around your waist, pulling you close to him. you side-eyed him, and ignored the hickey blooming at the base of his neck.

“is there a problem here?” luke’s voice was firm, steady.

it seemed like all the fight left rugby shirt’s body, and he put his hands up in surrender.

“oh, sorry dude. i didn’t realize she was taken.”

you rolled your eyes. figured that this guy would only back off if there was a jealous boyfriend in the mix.

“it’s fine, i’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

“that’s for sure,” the guy continued. “your girl practically bit my head off for being nice and buying her a drink.”

your fingers tightened into a fist.

“that is not —”

“look, i gotta apologize on her behalf.”

“luke, what are you —”

“let me handle this, baby,” he hummed. “trust me, she’s normally a good girl. she just gets….harder to control after one too many drinks.”

“i am this close to throwing my next drink at you,” you insisted.

you weren't naive. you knew luke was putting on an act, but you weren't sure why he felt the need to appease this jerk and put you down in the process.

you hated the way he was acting now — arrogant, condescending, borderline sexist. you wanted to storm off, you really did, but that would mean having to tear yourself away from luke, and.... you didn't hate the firm hold he had on you.

he chuckled and raised an eyebrow at the guy knowingly, like they were the closest friends.

“see what i mean?”

“that’s quite the firecracker you got there,” the guy complimented, as though you were a prize luke had won. “those are the ones you gotta keep on a tight leash, though.”

oh, your patience was wearing thin. if luke didn't take care of this guy soon….

“don’t i know it.” luke laughed when you barred your teeth at him. “look, we all came here to have a good time. why don’t you go join your friends again, and i’ll send over some drinks.”

rugby shirt looked at luke, then nodded.

“alright. thanks, man. and sorry again for the….confusion.”

luke extended a hand, and the guy shook it.

"no hard feelings. i'll be sure to keep her on a tighter leash, though."

rugby shirt walked away, laughing. you were just about ready to bite luke's head off.

you shoved luke away from you. your whole body felt like it was on fire.

“luke castellan, i don’t care if it’s your birthday, if you ever talk to me like that again, i swear to all the gods —” you faltered when luke’s lips curled into a smirk.

that smug, gorgeous, self-important smirk.

“what?”

“i’m just waiting until you’re done chewing me out,” he said, clearly a bit amused. “you done?”

you hesitated, narrowing your eyes at him. “for now, i guess.”

“good, because we have about 2 minutes before our misogynistic frat buddy over there notices that something’s missing.”

he lifted his hand to show off the real prize of the night.

“you did all of that….. to steal the guy’s watch?”

“well, duh. he was being a jerk and i’m the prince of thieves, karma. gotta use my powers for good.”

luke winked at you as you stared at him in awe.

“we really should go though. the others are waiting for us outside.”

you jutted your chin towards the bruise on his neck.

"what about the redhead?"

luke flushed, adjusted his collar to hide the hickey. "i kinda lost interest when she said i was hot for an asian guy."

"oh." you ignored the triumph in your gut. "sounds like a jerk, too."

"whatever." luke shrugged. "hard to find the good ones, right?"

luke turned towards the exit.

"wait.” you tugged him back, and luke looked confused for a split second. “you're one of the good ones, luke castellan. did i ever tell you how incredibly happy i am that you were born?"

luke grinned. "you could stand to say it more often."

his smile was infectious. you liked this side of luke: protective, mischievous, a bit of a trouble-maker.

it made you want to kiss him all over again.

(iii. he lied without flinching)

you couldn’t find luke anywhere.

he wasn’t at the climbing wall, or the arena, or the forge. luke seemed to have a knack at vanishing when you needed him most.

when you finally found him, he was outside the big house, in what seemed to be a somewhat heated conversation with chris and a new camper, ethan nakamura.

ethan nakamura, son of nemesis. you were shocked when your mother’s symbol — swords crossed underneath a set of scales — appeared over his head after two weeks of staying at the hermes cabin.

you were still getting used to having a younger half-brother.

“hey,” you greeted the trio, slightly out of breath from running all over camp. as soon as you joined them, a silence fell over the group. “i was looking for you everywhere, tiger. what’s going on here?”

“actually, we were just —”

“nakamura,” luke spoke ethan’s name like a warning.

“i’m just saying, maybe we should consider —”

luke cut ethan off this time with a sharp glance.

“i already said no. end of discussion.”

“whatever you say, boss,” ethan grumbled.

the trio was silent again, and you eyed each of them suspiciously.

“okay, seriously. what’s —”

“we’ll talk more about this later, guys,” luke interrupted. his tone was commanding. ethan and chris dispersed.

once they were gone, you furrowed your brows at luke, not sure what they would be talking about that could make him speak so harshly.

“what was that about?” you asked for the third time.

“nothing important.” luke gave you a smile that seemed to stretch a bit thin. “you said you were looking for me everywhere. wanna go makeout in the hermes cabin? i’m pretty sure it’ll be empty this time of day.”

you shook your head, no matter how tempting the offer. the scene you walked into made you so uneasy that you completely forgot there was something important you needed to tell luke.

“percy and annabeth just iris-messaged me,” you explained.

“oh,” he quirked an eyebrow at you. “is their quest going alright?”

you repeated everything the kids had told you: medusa, the chimera, ares. clarisse maybe being the lightning thief. luke had to sit down on the stairs leading to the big house when you spoke that last part. you understood why — clarisse was your friend.

sitting down next to him, you sighed.

“you don’t think….you don’t think it could be true, do you?”

clarisse was hot-headed, sure, maybe a bit impulsive, but a war between the gods? that didn’t seem her style.

you hoped luke would assure you, but instead he said:

luke ran a hand through his hair. “it would make sense.”

“what?”

he leaned in close, voice low.

“clarisse was there with us during our field trip to olympus in december. the gods are arrogant enough to leave their stuff in the throne room, and there’s not really any security. she could have easily snuck in when everyone was sleeping. clarisse….” luke let out a heavy breath. “clarisse is the lightning thief.”

“no. no. she wouldn’t —”

“it makes sense, karma,” luke insisted. he placed a hand on your knee. “clarisse is angry at the gods.”

“we all are,” you pointed out.

“well, sure, but her dad is ares. how else do you get the god of war’s attention if not starting a war?”

you took a second to process luke’s reasoning. maybe he did have a point. it was just that sharp pain in your chest keeping you from believing it.

“we don’t know anything for sure,” you decided. “and until we do….we don’t tell anyone. especially chiron.”

luke squeezed your knee, gave you a reassuring smile.

“sounds like a plan.” he moved in closer and whispered: “now, how about we sneak away, and i do that thing with my tongue that makes you squirm?”

you felt something tighten in your lower abdomen. you and luke were still in the sneaking-around-camp stage of your relationship; you both got a thrill from it.

at the time, you figured luke was just offering you a much needed distraction.

he kissed just below your ear to sweeten the deal — and how were you supposed to resist?

you didn’t even question how luke knew when the bolt was stolen, let alone how he seemed to have the theft already planned out perfectly.

(iv. he hid behind a pretty face and perfect teeth)

it had been a little over a week since people around camp — including percy, annabeth, and grover, who had gotten back from their quest — found out about you and luke, together. apparently your friends had a bet going, meaning that everyone other than silena was less than thrilled about your announcement. they warmed up to the idea since then.

it still felt a little bit surreal calling luke castellan your boyfriend.

luke often played the role of the perfect demigod, the one everyone should strive to be. he paid extra attention to new campers and made them feel welcomed. he did his chores on time, stepped in if more hands were needed for kitchen patrol, and spent hours going through reports for chiron. he taught sword-fighting and encouraged younger campers to keep practicing. he did participate in the occasional prank, that mischievous child of hermes streak impossible not to indulge in, but it only made everyone adore him even more. because luke was responsible, but not boring. he was incredibly skilled and driven, but also gracious. he was sensible and charismatic.

you watched that luke — camp half-blood’s golden boy, the hero everyone either wanted to be, befriend, or date — and you were in awe. mostly, you wondered how he managed to bury the anger and resentment you knew was churning inside him, the same anger and resentment you sometimes let slip through.

no, you were not as careful as golden boy luke, who showed no malice towards the olympians. to chiron, to everyone else, luke castellan respected the gods, honored them in everything he did, and taught others to do the same.

that was not the luke who sucked a bruise onto your neck while suggesting something even you might consider blasphemous.

“we can’t just - uh,” you had to catch your breath when luke slipped his thumb underneath the band of your sports bra. “we’d get in trouble, tiger.”

you felt him chuckle against your skin.

“since when do you care about that?”

“since the king of the gods would probably strike us with lightning, or turn us into some horrible monsters, or curse us if we were caught fucking in his cabin."

"that’s only if we get caught."

luke gave you that flirtatious smile, the one he now reserved only for you.

it was that smile that led to luke settling between your legs, fucking you with his tongue and fingers, his other hand digging into your thigh to keep you from writhing too much.

zeus’ cabin was, of course, empty, since his only known child was turned into a pine tree. you and luke had tucked yourselves into the one corner where the giant statue of the god couldn’t see you, setting a sleeping bag down on the cold marble floor and your discarded clothes scattered throughout. the dome-shaped ceiling was decorated with an enchanted mosaic sky that seemed to move. the only sounds that echoed throughout the room were moans as your orgasm washed over you.

"you're so, so pretty," he mumbled, wet lips brushing the skin of your inner thigh. he stayed where he was, awfully concerned with lapping up everything.

you whined his name when you found him taking too long, already a bit sensitive and wanting him inside you.

it might have been your conscious, but you swore you could hear a storm brewing, the threat of thunder and lightning looming. the mosaic sprouted some clouds, growing darker by the second as if a countdown to your doom.

luke, on the other hand, was acting like you had all the time in the world, and then some.

he paused after his name tumbled from your lips again, and you tugged his hair. he propped his chin on your stomach to get a better look of you. luke was gorgeous, with his mess of black curls, deep brown eyes a little more dangerous than usual, smirk shining with your cum.

"yes, sweetheart?"

“get up here and kiss me,” you groaned.

once again, luke took his sweet time. his mouth left a trail along your thighs and your hips, your stomach and ribs. it felt like he was worshiping every inch of your skin, scarred and uneven and tattooed as it was. luke took extra care in appreciating the sword engraved on your sternum, the tattoo that matched the one he had on his collarbone.

“hi,” luke whispered once he was face to face with you.

“hey, tiger,” you matched the softness of his voice, contrasting the harshness that followed when luke crashed his lips into yours. you could taste yourself on his tongue, and once he sucked all the air from your lungs, you had to pull away.

you informed him: “there’s a condom in my back pocket.”

“always prepared,” he noted with a smile, reaching over to get it.

you kissed luke again as he entered you, your nails scraping down his back. when he pulled away to look at you, you couldn’t meet his gaze. instead, you were mesmerized by the sharp contours of his body and the healed wounds that lingered, every scar that you knew by heart like they were your own. you had a favorite, too — the faint cut on his hip from when he, thalia, and annabeth were on the run and they had to jump a fence.

if luke hadn’t been thrusting into you, you would have bent down to kiss it.

“eyes up here, beautiful.”

when you complied, luke smiled and ran his thumb along your jaw.

“good girl,” he praised. “you okay if i go harder?”

you settled for kissing the scar on his cheekbone.

“yes,” you finally answered. "please."

luke brought his hand down to wrap your leg around his hip before he started moving faster. your head fell back against the marble floor, but you didn’t care about the impact. you just focused on how good it felt to have luke inside you, his strong hand on your hip, his warm breath on your skin.

after feeling you tighten around him, luke let go a bit more. he dropped his head between your neck and shoulder, his curls brushing against you. as he reached his peak, luke bit your shoulder, hard, to keep himself from groaning too loudly. you could have sworn that you heard thunder at that exact moment. in fact, it seemed to shake the entire cabin.

luke seemed to catch the threat that time, too.

there was no room for pillow talk as the two of you rushed to get dressed and get out of there before the king of the gods lost his patience and struck you with lightning, turned you into some horrible monsters, or cursed you. maybe all three, maybe something worse.

you slipped on your underwear and pants, but couldn’t find the top half of your outfit.

“do you see my shirt there?”

luke had just pulled on his boxers when he turned and passed the item to you. you weren’t sure why he paused for a second while doing it. then, he whispered:

“shit.” luke’s eyes were glued to your shoulder, where his teeth had broken skin. his cheeks flushed a bright red. whether it was shame or embarrassment, you didn’t know; but you were slightly taken aback. “i’m, i’m sorry, i — i didn’t mean to hurt you. i never want to —”

you placed your hands on his cheeks.

“hey.” you whispered at him softly, and it was enough for him to stop rambling. you could tell he felt guilty, though, since he refused to meet your gaze.

“luke, baby, look at me.”

when he finally did, your heart ached.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t done similar to luke. you’d never broken skin, sure, but luke seemed to enjoy — really enjoy — whenever you used your teeth in the heat of the moment. you just assumed he knew you wouldn’t mind the same.

but, one bite, and luke was almost reduced to tears, all because he was afraid of hurting you.

“it’s fine, okay? i’m fine.”

luke didn’t seem convinced, his brows furrowed with concern. you kissed the crease on his forehead and reassured him once more that you were fine.

“if anything, consider it payback for the hickey i left that took a week to fade away.”

luke smiled softly at that, and you knew he was coming back to you.

“you know, annabeth suggested that i go to the infirmary because of how it looked. i had to tell her i got it during sparring practice.”

“it wasn’t that bad,” you laughed, and so did luke.

thunder rumbled throughout the cabin once more, and you swore the clouds were growing darker by the second.

you were about to finish getting dressed when he grabbed your waist.

“look, if i’m ever too rough whenever we’re —”

“sparring?”

“sure,” he smiled, thumbs rubbing circles on your bare skin. “whenever we’re sparring, just promise that you’ll let me know.”

“of course,” you hummed. “only if you do the same.”

“of course,” he echoed, and he pecked your lips. “i think it’s hot, you know? when you feel like you can let go. when you mark me. i like everyone knowing that i’m yours.”

you bit back a smile, feeling your cheeks grow warm.

“well, i think it’s hot when you mark me, too. especially when you bite me,” you admitted.

“don’t tell me you’re still into the whole vampire thing,” he teased.

“oh, please. you were as obsessed with it as the rest of us. don’t you remember?”

as if either of you could forget marathoning entire seasons of buffy the vampire slayer on dvds rented from the nearest video store. you'd watch episode after episode with your friends, the six of you squeezing onto the small couch in the big house, sharing one bowl of popcorn and endless cups of coffee to stay awake.

you shivered out of the memory when he brought his fingers up to trace the bite mark he had left on you.

zeus could have sent more thunder. he could have created a whole godsdamned storm, but you wouldn’t have cared.

luke was so close that you had nothing better to do than to close the distance between you.

luke got bolder as the kiss became more heated — he sank his teeth into your bottom lip, his tongue sweeping over the crimson liquid that emerged, the tang of copper invading your mouth.

“easy there, angel,” you referenced, and felt him smirk against your lips before moving to nip at your neck.

you trailed your hand down the front of his exposed stomach, outlining the contours and curves. with the moonlight reflecting in, accompanied by the crackle of lightning, it almost looked like luke’s skin was glittering.

“you’re so beautiful," you cooed, nails scraping against the tight muscles of his lower abdomen. "how'd i get so lucky, huh?"

“you won’t.”

“i'm the lucky one." a shadow passed over luke's face, and you swore you felt his grip tightening on your hips. “i never want to hurt you,” he finished the sentence you had interrupted earlier.

at the time, you didn’t think he was even capable of such a thing.

for better or for worse, that was the night you realized something.

you liked golden boy luke. or, at the very least, you tolerated him.

the rule-breaking, sin-committing, blood-sucking luke?

he was the one you were irrevocably in love with.

except your life wasn't some neatly written, scripted coming-of-age story about fictional vampires and slayers.

it had monsters, too. you just didn't realize who they were until it was too late.

(v. he made you look so naive)

there was blood on your hands, but you weren’t sure who it belonged to.

yours or luke’s — it was a toss-up that made you more than a little nauseous.

luke had stolen the lightning bolt. luke had tried to frame percy and start a war between the gods. luke had begged you to join kronos’ army with him. you almost killed him because of it until you realized that he left percy to die.

you summarized everything to chiron and mr. d once you had made sure that percy was getting help in the infirmary. the scorpion poison was still putting up a fight, but percy was strong. annabeth was there with him.

dread simmered in the pit of your stomach just thinking about having to tell her everything, too — to see the look in her eyes when she hears just how much her big brother betrayed her.

“and you have no idea where mr. castellan could have gone?” chiron’s voice was stern, moreso than usual.

you shook your head, not particularly paying attention. you could still feel blood seeping from the blademark luke had left.

“that’s awfully convenient,” mr.d scoffed.

you narrowed your eyes at him.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i’ve heard around camp that you and this luke were quite…. close,” mr. d said, pointing his can of diet coke at you accusingly.

a wave of anger surged through you. it had been building in your gut ever since luke revealed his betrayal, and you didn’t care if it was a god who was on the receiving end of your wrath.

“seriously? i saved percy and told you everything, and you’re here suggesting what? that i’m somehow a traitor, too?”

“seems like the plot of a pretty twisted love story.”

your lips curled into a snarl, and you were about to pounce until chiron dismissed you.

you were in a trance for the rest of the day. chris was gone, too. ethan didn’t seem surprised. silena sobbed, clarisse comforted her, beckendorf cursed luke’s name. other campers kept asking about where their favorite counselor had gone, until they started growing weary of you.

because if golden boy luke was evil, what were the odds that his hot-headed, impertinent girlfriend was, too?

luke left you there, looking like an absolute fool for believing in him, trusting him, loving him.

you couldn’t unsee his blood on your hands. you might as well have been lady macbeth, desperately scrubbing out stains that would never leave.

vi. he was a vice you could never shake

calling all riot grrrls and punk rockers — this show is for YOU!!! come see the SIRENS OF NEW YORK perform THIS friday at joan’s bar ;)

the flyer was an obnoxiously vibrant shade of red and plastered throughout the neighborhood, and it did a good job. one of queens’ best dive bars was packed with people waiting to see the band perform: stella yamada on guitar, mohini banjaree on bass, sally mcknight on vocals — and you on drums.

it was nice and still a bit new, this relatively normal existence with relatively normal people.

you couldn’t cut off the demigod side of your life completely. there was still a war brewing, and you were in regular enough contact with camp.

but, you’d been away for a few years, trying to live the life of a non-halfblood in their early 20s. you had an apartment, a cat and a nice enough roommate. you were in school and working as a bartender to pay for rent and tuition. you had friends who, for lack of a better term, were normal. people who worried about paying off student loans and finding their passion in life, whether it be law school or feminist prose or angry girl music of the indie-rock persuasion. people who spent their time in classrooms or tattoo parlors or their friends’ bathrooms at 2am while bleaching their hair after a bad breakup.

sometimes though, usually late at night when you couldn’t sleep, you had to admit to yourself that you missed your old life.

you missed home. you missed playing capture the flag and training in the arena and having breakfast in the dining pavilion. you missed your friends, the ones you’d grown up with.

you missed —

no. you tried not to let your mind wander towards him, or the consequences of what he did. you both drew blood the afternoon he confessed his sins to you, but he was the one who twisted the knife. he was the reason you couldn’t stand your life as a half-blood anymore.

you just tried to focus on the mortal, mundane things that now composed your everyday life, like the stage you would be performing on in 30 seconds.

before every show, your bandmates went through different degrees of anxiety. you didn’t get stage fright like them. they called you fearless, but the reality was that you had just gone up against much worse.

and yet, that night, you almost froze mid-set, just as you started a cover of the joan jett’s “you don’t know what you’ve got.”

ironically, luke had gotten you a cd of this album for your 15th birthday.

i was caught so unaware, when you made other plans.

think of the devil, and he shall appear.

it couldn’t have been him there, though. last time you heard of him, luke was growing kronos' army somewhere on the west coast.

you pushed through, even though your concentration was shaken.

i can’t stand to hear your name

you had to shake off the feeling of him watching you.

it was just that — a bad feeling, right?

you missed another beat, and mo turned around to give a concerned yet frustrated frown. joan had hinted that there might have been an agent in the audience, and you couldn’t afford to mess up.

oh baby, you really blew it.

the song ended, and your blood ran cold.

it had to be a trick of the light, seeing luke in the crowd, but just the thought of being in the same space again made it impossible to be up on that stage, so exposed.

as the band was getting ready for the next song, you slipped away, out the back door and into the alley for some fresh air. with shaky hands, you brought a cigarette between your lips and pulled out your lighter. it was a terrible habit, you knew.

those were always the ones hardest to quit and you needed a vice to keep you grounded.

so there you found yourself, shivering in your black tank top, just cropped enough that the fishnets you wore underneath red leather pants were slightly visible. the bricks were cool against your back and you exhaled into the soft evening twilight when you realized it hadn’t been a trick of the light.

“you look like buffy the vampire slayer.”

you rolled your eyes, because of course luke would do that. you were on opposite sides of an impending war between gods and titans, a world-ending conflict that luke directly enabled, and he led with a light-hearted comment like you were still the best of friends.

as if you hadn’t been on the receiving ends of each other’s blades ever since luke revealed himself to be a traitor.

“give me one reason why i shouldn’t kill you right now. ”

“because i’m alone.”

“you could still be here to kill me,” you reasoned. “or at least try.”

after everything, you wouldn’t put it past him. you known him to do a lot worse, all to people he claimed to, in a past life, care about.

luke tried again.

“because you always liked a fair fight. i came alone and unarmed.”

you scoffed, dropped your half-finished cigarette to the ground, and snuffed it out with the toe of your chunky patent boot before walking over to stand in front of luke. he put his hands up in surrender as you approached him.

“if you’re not here to fight, then why are you here?” you demanded, fingers brushing against the switchblade in your pocket. you always kept a celestial bronze weapon on you in case you came across any monsters in the city. you looked at the one in front of you, and wished you had brought a bigger knife.

“i just….i wanted — needed to see you.”

your eyes grazed luke carefully.

he looked rough. deep shadows under his eyes, hair disheveled and partially matted down, shirt wrinkled like he’d been on the run for days. his hands caked with blood and dirt, his face, too. a nasty bruise on his elbow, and what looked like another one disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.

you bit down the urge to care. you had to remind yourself that luke was dangerous, cruel, and heartless. you couldn’t stand to look at him for one more second, at least not without biting his head off, or at the very least the cut on his lip.

“no. you don’t get to just —”

the door slammed open, echoed throughout the alley. stella poked her head out, guitar still strapped to her shoulder. from inside, you could hear the crowd cheering.

“jesus christ, y/n! where have you been?”

“sorry, stel. i needed a smoke break and then i ran into a — ” your voice caught on the word friend. “luke.”

his name left a poisonous taste in your mouth, and you swallowed its bitterness.

she saw luke then, who gave her that charming smile of his you hadn’t seen in forever. he extended a hand towards her, but stella just scowled at him and turned back to you.

“are you coming to finish the show?” stella demanded.

“i need to deal with this,” you told her. “i’m sor—”

stella huffed and slithered back inside before you could finish apologizing.

“great,” you laughed cynically. “now one of my best friends is pissed at me, and i might get kicked out of the band. my luck just gets worse every time you force yourself back into my life, castellan.”

you weren’t quite sure how to make of the way he looked at you — maybe apologetic, possibly desperately, definitely some sort of disguise.

“i know….i fucked up, karma.”

you glared at the use of his old nickname for you, feeling a shudder run down your spine.

“yeah, you fucked up. and now everyone, the whole world, is suffering the consequences. me, annabeth, your mom —”

“please,” luke begged once more, voice shaking now. “if you ever loved me —”

“don’t.” you barked. “if you ever loved me, you’d accept that the next time we see each other, it’ll be fighting on a battlefield. until one of us is on the ground, bleeding out, or never again.”

luke stared at you. you glared back at him.

“sorry i’m late, lukey. did i miss much?” a sickly sweet voice cut through the tension.

you turned and saw a cheerleader. she looked relatively normal, but the mismatched legs — one bronze, another furry — along with the red eyes and fangs gave her away.

“you said you were alone,” you pointed out, tilting your head towards the monster. “looks like you brought company.”

“i didn’t,” luke insisted. “kelli’s been hunting me down.”

kelli pouted. “i thought we were playing hide and seek. but it’s over now — i win. please don’t be mad, baby.”

baby. you could have laughed.

“i guess you moved on, castellan.” you meant your words to come across as mocking, so you hoped luke couldn’t sense the resentment behind them.

kelli giggled, and you thought your ears might bleed.

“he sure did,” she cooed and moved closer to luke, running a long red fingernail down his chest. he pushed her away abruptly, and kelli pouted once more. “we miss you, luke. i miss you. please come back home with me.”

“that’s not my home.”

out of everything luke had said, those were the words that got through to you. you glanced at him once more — his hands curled into fists, jaw clenched, and eyes locked on yours, panicking and pleading at the same time.

you had to give in to those pleading, panicked brown eyes.

luke didn’t have any weapons on him. all you had was a tiny pocket knife and some combat skills you’d been maintaining through kickboxing classes with your roommate, but you were willing to put them to good use.

you stepped in front of luke.

“listen — kelli, was it?” the empousa growled at you. “call me sentimental, but i can’t let you take him.”

kelli gave you a snarl, and you whipped out your switchblade. admittedly, it looked a little pathetic compared to her deadly fangs and sharp claws.

“aw, cute!” she mocked, and then pushed you backwards.

you expected to tumble into luke, but he had disappeared. seemed like you did make the wrong choice, to trust luke again.

again — the worst, most sinister habits were the hardest ones to break.

it briefly crossed your mind to chase him down after this for leading you into a trap. for now, you had a shapeshifting cheerleader to take care of.

you managed to side-step kelli’s next attack, and sliced across her arm in the process. she shrieked. her hair bursted into flames, as if your day could get any worse. you tried to get another jab in, but kelli managed to be quicker this time. she punched you in the jaw, then kicked you, hard, with a hoofed foot, causing a dull crack to your ribcage upon impact. the kick sent you spinning towards the brick wall; it stopped you from falling, but knocked the air out of your lungs. you spat, your mouth thick with the taste of blood. your ears were ringing, and you couldn’t locate your knife.

you were definitely out of practice.

“kelli!”

you both turned your attention towards luke, standing at the entrance of the alley with his sword in hand.

“luke!” kelli said like he was her long lost lover. she batted her eyelashes at him, the murderous grin she had given you melting away to something more enticing. “you came to help me finish her off.”

luke tilted his head. “not exactly.”

luke threw the sword towards you. despite a split second of surprise, you caught it; made a sharp diagonal cut. before kelli knew it, she was reduced to nothing but dust.

you dropped luke’s sword and fell to the pavement, adrenaline coursed through your veins from the first near-death experience you’d had in months. even with your body bruised and broken, fighting was a thrill like no other.

luke came to kneel in front of you, sneakers crunching over the ashes of his ex-girlfriend.

“you said you were unarmed.” your voice sounded muffled. you spat out another mouthful of blood.

“half-bloods are walking monster bait. i’d be an idiot if i didn’t have any celestial bronze on me.”

to emphasize his point, luke tucked your switchblade carefully back into your pocket. he moved his hand to the hem of your shirt. it was your instinct to keep him from lifting it up, and he stopped when he noticed your hesitation.

“i’m just trying to see how bad it is,” he informed. his lips then formed a bemused grin. “besides, i’ve already seen everything.”

“shut up,” but you smiled weakly even if it made your cheek hurt.

the skin where kelli had kicked you was turning an alarming shade of purple. luke tried to touch it, but you let out a sharp breath when pain emanated across your ribcage, and he recoiled.

“okay, we need to get you —”

“i’m fine,” you groaned. you struggled to stand up, but you urged yourself to walk away. in your mind, the scales were already balanced.

the moral, logical side of you was in danger of yielding to the wicked desire you always tried to suppress — to be with luke, even once more, just like old times. your quest for vengeance could only be stopped by your hunger for something more, and you needed distance from him before you gave in too much.

“i don’t need your help,” you insisted. “i protected you from kelli, and you gave me the sword that saved my life. we’re even.”

you started to limp away, but luke grabbed your side before you could get too far. you yelped at the contact.

“sorry,” he winced. “just — let me at least get you to a hospital.”

“what do i look like, a rockefeller?” you scoffed, and then grimaced when it felt like a giant was crushing you from the inside out. “i can’t afford that. i have some emergency nectar and ambrosia at my place, anyways.”

“let me at least get you back there, then. please.” he grabbed your hand. “i owe you.”

looking into those deep brown eyes, something in your stomach snapped.

bad habits were always the hardest to break.

“fine,” you coughed. “but one wrong move, and i swear: i’ll go full vampire slayer and pierce a wooden stake through your heart.”

luke nodded once, lips curling into a smile. “seems fair.”

you groaned as luke wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you steady, his hold terribly familiar as he carried you back home.

(vii. he loved you — and you weren’t sure if that was a fact or a weapon)

your apartment was only a few blocks away. luke must have gotten stronger, because he was able to carry you up the fire escape to avoid too much attention.

“i’m not sure if my roommate is home,” you whispered as luke set you down on the carpet by your bed. “so we should try and be quiet.”

you told him where you kept the supplies. he snuck away and emerged from the bathroom a minute later with clean hands and a first-aid kit.

luke knelt down in front of you.

“can i take your shirt off?”

you nodded, trying to keep your eyes from fluttering closed. you were so bloodied up, more so than you initially let on, so you let luke do whatever he needed to do. he took off your shirt, assessed your injury and apologized when the pressure from his fingers made you wince. he wiped the blood off your lips and coaxed your mouth open to feed you some ambrosia, offer you a sip of nectar.

there was no doubt about it: luke was taking care of you.

at first, you imagined your bones stitching themselves back together, and maybe some pieces of your heart, too.

what were the odds that he was manipulating you, though? certainly not zero.

and then you noticed something when he reached over to place the canteen of nectar back with the kit. he was moving slowly, his breathing shallow and fresh blood seeping through his shirt.

“wait. what happened?”

“nothing,” he winced. luke was always good at hiding his pain.

“luke.”

“it was a few days ago. a hellhound bit me when i was trying to escape from….”

kronos’ army. he didn’t need to say it for either of you to remember.

wordlessly, you switched your positions, led him to prop himself up on the bed frame while you crouched in front of him.

“can i take this off?”

luke nodded.

the first thing you noticed was that his muscles were more defined, yet his body was more beat-up than you'd ever seen it. there was a pretty nasty bruise on his shoulder. your eyes traveled down to the bitemark at his hip, and the haphazard stitching job luke must have done to himself. it looked like it could be infected, and with the activity from today, it was no wonder the wound reopened.

like he had done to you just seconds before, you took care of him.

“so…how are our friends?” he exhaled as you ran a cloth over his skin to clean off some of the blood.

our friends. it didn’t feel right that luke could still call them that.

“i’m guessing you know what happened to chris….” luke grimaced, and you hoped he felt a little guilty at sending one of his best friends into a madness-inducing labyrinth. “clarisse and lena broke up, and neither of them will tell me why. beck is doing fine, always coming up with stuff in the forges. i guess that’s as good as anyone can be now, inventing new weapons for a war none of us wanted.”

you couldn’t help but add that last part.

“and the kids?” luke asked as though you were divorce parents and he lost the custody battle.

you looked up at the gray streak in luke’s own hair, remembering that he had manipulated annabeth and percy to hold the weight of the world, a burden that they couldn’t seem to shake.

it made you more than a little uneasy, luke showing any sense of caring for the people he seemed to leave behind and hurt so easily. you wished he hadn’t been so tender and attentive, like all the fighting and animosity had been a bad dream.

luke just had to make everything so complicated.

“they’re fine, all things considered.”

you didn’t offer anything more, anything less.

he was quiet for a moment.

“you seem to be doing alright, though?”

you ignored the question completely that time, focusing on getting the job done. you gave luke some ambrosia and nectar, watched as the infection magically disappeared. the wound didn’t completely heal, and there were many bruises that lingered. you were about to give luke some more when he shook his head.

"you should save the rest for emergencies," he suggested, chin jutting towards your diminishing supplies. "in case something happens."

"is that a threat, castellan?" you asked, only half-joking.

"no." luke reached out to touch your face, perhaps a move to reassure you, but then he redirected himself. "besides, i'll be fine. just need to cover it with some gauze."

"you should take a shower before, then. i'll see what we have to eat."

you helped him up, and sent luke into the bathroom. you changed into clean clothes before going to look for some food.

the ambrosia and nectar made your body feel more powerful than it had in days, even before getting kicked around by a demon cheerleader. no wonder the gods felt invincible, if that was their diet. meanwhile, all you had in your kitchen was a half-empty box of cinnamon poptarts and packets of instant coffee.

you could hear your roommate singing from behind her closed door. you were quiet in toasting the breakfast pastries, and then slithered back into your room to look for something that would fit luke.

luke didn't hear you knock, so you just entered and closed the door behind you gently. on the bathroom counter, you set a pair of sweatpants that an ex had left behind, along with an oversized shirt of yours. before you could leave, there was a knock on the door. luke heard this one, and poked his head from behind the shower curtain. you gestured at him that you’d take care of it. he nodded, and closed the curtain again.

"yeah?"

"do you have any tampons in there?" your roommate's voice was muffled through the door.

"yeah," you replied. "i'll be out in a minute."

"do you mind if i just come in now? i'm bleeding out, out here."

you were about to protest, but the doorknob started to turn, and you panicked. you slipped behind the shower curtain with luke, who looked at you wide-eyed. you placed your hand over his mouth before he could say anything.

you were lucky earlier, that stella's mind was so preoccupied she didn't notice how beat-up luke was. you didn't want to take another chance. you didn't need your roommate asking questions.

once the sounds of shuffling through cupboards stopped, and you heard a small thank you followed by the door closing, luke bit your palm.

"ow!" you hissed, pulling away from him.

"she's gone,” luke shrugged. “you don't need to muzzle me anymore.”

you rolled your eyes. “i put some clothes out for you, and a clean towel.”

luke caught your wrist before you could leave.

“wait. my shoulder is killing me. do you mind…would you maybe help me….”

his question trailed off, and you furrowed your brow when he pointed the shampoo bottle in your direction.

“you practically carried me down 3 blocks and up 4 flights of stairs, but you’re too hurt to wash your own hair?”

“i guess the pain just caught up with me.” his cheeks flushed and he cleared his throat. “sorry, i shouldn’t have —”

something pinched in your chest, hearing him stumble for forgiveness, even if it was so mundane. you caught yourself saying:

“i’ll do it.”

before you could decide if it was a bad idea or not. you got rid of your shorts and tied your shirt up around your waist to prevent the clothes from getting too wet. luke blushed even more at your panties and exposed stomach, as if he wasn’t fully naked — which you were, of course, trying to ignore.

neither of you said anything as you focused on the task at hand, massaging shampoo and then conditioner into luke’s curls until they were rid of the grime trapped within. all you heard were luke’s soft sighs as your fingers scraped across his scalp and steady stream of water hitting the bathroom tiles. luke seemed so relaxed that his eyelids fluttered closed, and he almost toppled over. with your own sudsy hands, you brought his hands to sit at your waist, steadying him.

the space was a little foggy, slightly too warm. you and luke had been intimate before, but never like this. it was almost enough to make you forget.

once all the soap was washed away, you brushed your fingers over the scar on his face, down to the sword tattooed along his collarbone, before you realized what you were doing.

“sorry,” you whispered, pulling your hand away.

“it’s okay,” he hummed, and he moved his hand up to brush against the very same tattoo you had on your sternum, touch burning through a layer of cotton.

you wanted his hands elsewhere — around your neck, between your legs.

the water was running cold by then, and it jolted you back to reality.

you had to keep your desires in check. luke was manipulative and cruel and ruthless — you were enemies, not friends or lovers. you weren’t supposed to want him carnally.

you reached behind him to turn the shower off without another word, and left the bathroom so he could get dressed.

neither of you were armed, but the situation was dangerous. you were barely healing from the claw marks luke left on your life and yet….

part of you wanted him to dig his fingers back into those wounds — to feel him again, even if it bled you dry in the end.

luke’s sword, backbiter, leaned against your windowsill, a menacing reminder of who he had aligned himself with. luke was essentially kronos’ right hand man. he was your enemy.

what were you doing, bringing him into your home, taking care of him and letting him do the same to you?

leaving yourself vulnerable to him, letting your guard down?

now that you thought of it, if his guard was down, you could probably grab your own knife and just —

you heard luke clear his throat and you turned to see him standing in your doorway, shirtless and sweatpants hanging low. it was embarrassing how much you wanted to lap up the drop of water traveling down his chest.

luke must have noticed, so cleared his throat again. your body felt warm all over when you met his gaze, and he gave you an annoyingly confident smirk.

“so, here’s the thing. i’m pretty sure you’re either thinking about wanting to kill me, or wanting to fuck me.”

you rolled your eyes at his arrogance, but couldn’t help but play along.

“sounds like you’ve accepted your fate either way.”

“well, i do have a preference,” he quipped. “i just don’t particularly care as long as it's in your hands.”

it didn’t get past you that luke was checking you out, too, eye trailing over the exposed skin of your legs and lingering on where the t-shirt hugged your chest.

how bad would it be to, for one night, indulge? no concern about what was right or wrong, about titans or gods; no worries about what a prophecy foretold or which side of a war you’re on.

just you and luke: giving into your own twisted desires, and dealing with the consequences later.

another droplet trickled down luke’s torso. it disappeared underneath the band of his sweatpants, and you just couldn’t take it anymore.

you strode over to him, about to crash your lips into his when —

luke stopped you with a hand wrapped around your neck.

“no kissing,” he warned.

“what’s the matter?” you smirked. “i thought you liked it when i bite. worried that you’ll turn away from the dark side if i do?”

luke swallowed thickly.

you were taunting him, relishing in how his breath caught in his throat and gaze seemed fixed on your lips.

it was cute, how luke tried to hold onto some semblance of control, but couldn’t hide the slight tremble in his voice.

“no kissing. that’s my only condition.”

“okay.” you took off your shirt, positioned yourself on the bed to punctuate your point. “as long as you’re fine sleeping with the enemy, castellan.”

luke stared for a few seconds before accepting his fate.

he caged you in with his arms, settling his hips between your legs. his lips traveled down your tattooed sternum, nipping and sucking and re-bruising your skin until he reached the waistband of your panties. luke pulled it up with his teeth, the elastic snapping back when he let go. you whined his name and he looked up at you with dark eyes.

“can i?” his breath fanned over your navel, his nails digging into your hips as he waited for your answer.

“yes. please.”

you hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but you could feel luke smirk against your inner thigh before sinking his teeth into it. you whimpered, and luke salved his tongue over the area to ease the sting before removing your underwear. he positioned your legs over his shoulder for better access to where you needed him most.

luke manipulated his tongue and fingers in all the ways he knew ruined you. in return, you gripped his black curls, tightly, and uttered praise in all the ways you knew ruined him.

“just like that, pretty boy,” you encouraged, practically melting into the mattress. it felt so good — dangerously good — to be devoured by luke. “keep doing a good job and i’ll return the favor later.”

luke’s moan vibrated throughout your body and he became harsher, bringing you over the edge. he left a few more bites on your body on his way up to meet you and when he did, luke’s lips and chin were still shining with your release.

you leaned forward slightly to lick it up. you ghosted your mouth over his, and luke groaned when you pulled away.

“no kissing,” you mocked and ran your thumb over his tattooed collarbone.

luke tightened his grip on your hips, surely leaving bruises for later. his eyes feral, his curls a terrible mess, when he grumbled:

“you’re such a —”

you twisted your calf around luke’s leg and you flipped your positions before he could finish his sentence. he grunted as his back hit the mattress.

“don’t worry, sweetheart. i’ll still take care of you,” you drawled, starting to trail your tongue down luke’s body, occasionally incorporating your teeth or sucking brutally, imprinting a constellation of bites and bruises. his skin smelled like your pomegranate mango body wash, and it was more than a little intoxicating.

you weren’t soft or gentle, because you knew how luke liked you — rough, raw, a little ruthless. luke once told you that the wounds you left on his body weren’t the type that left him bitter; they were the type of wounds he wished would never heal.

in a moment of weakness, you left a kiss — just one — on the semi-healed wound on his hip. luke sighed at the gesture and reached a hand down to gently brush his fingers against your cheek.

“i missed you so much, karma,” luke almost sobbed.

slightly shaken out of your lust, you weren’t sure whether to smirk at the hold you had on him, or sob at the reality that you missed him too.

sensing your hesitation, luke removed his hand and told you to continue.

you made quick work of luke’s sweatpants. luke, already hard and throbbing, didn’t last long with your lips wrapped around him. you swallowed him whole, and then some.

“always such a good girl for me,” luke praised when you were face to face with him once more. his thumb swiped over your wet lips to gather what you missed. you granted him access to push into your mouth, and luke groaned when you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked his thumb clean. your teeth scraped the skin on his way out.

what followed was a brief squabble over who should be on top. you won out.

there you were, luke sitting up against the headboard, you on his lap with his length nestled in your cunt. you scraped your nails down luke’s chest, and then curled your hands around the base of his neck. he gripped either side of your waist, thumbs pressing circles into your skin encouragingly. luke looked up at you in awe, desperate sighs leaving his mouth as you rutted your hips against his. it felt sinful and wonderful, feeling luke buried deep inside you again, stretching you deliciously. the two of you exchanging animalistic grunts as you used the other's body, chased your high.

when you rolled your hips into his at just the right angle, luke’s moans turned into whines.

“fuck it. please — kiss me.”

you stilled your hips, and luke whined some more. “are you sure?” you asked, breathing heavily.

luke nodded and gently moved you to lay on your back with him hovering over you. he leaned close, nudging the tip of his nose against yours.

“please,” luke pleaded once more.

his brown eyes looked down at you with such hunger and passion, something deep within you ached.

you kissed each other harshly, then. you still tasted him on your tongue and yourself on his. his sharp nose cut into your cheek, mouth attacking yours and vice versa. your nails pierced the skin of his shoulder as he resumed thrusting into you at a vicious pace. luke kept gnawing on your bottom lip until he made you bleed. you groaned, and he slipped his tongue back into your mouth to savor your coppery taste.

yes, luke could also be rough and raw and a little ruthless — which you always loved. but you knew, regardless, you were safe with him in that moment. all he wanted was for you to feel good.

you yanked his curls to force luke to look at you. he whimpered at having to detach himself from your lips.

“i missed you too, tiger,” you finally admitted, calling him that old affectionate nickname you promised yourself you would never use again. “i missed you so fucking much.”

luke gave you that troublesome smile of his. you connected your lips once more. you wrapped your legs around his waist to bring him impossibly closer, and luke wrapped an arm around your back to do the same.

it wasn’t long until you both reached your peak, collapsing back onto the soft mattress, chests heaving. you each lied down on your side, facing each other. you admired luke’s mess of curls, his swollen-kiss-bitten lips, the rose-petal bruises you had left.

you wished the post-sex haze lasted longer, but then luke had to disturb it by saying:

“what you said earlier — i never think of you as my enemy, you know.”

you sighed and covered your face with your hand. “luke —”

“never,” luke insisted. he inched closer, took your hand in his and held it to his chest.

you were overwhelmed by his heartbeat, strong and fast, so you pulled yourself away.

“we’re fighting on different sides,” you pointed out.

you could’ve said more, but all the things that have been said and done already hung heavy in the air, reoccupying the space between you and bursting your brief moment of peace.

“but we’ve always been fighting for the same thing.”

maybe that was true.

in theory, you weren’t against overthrowing the gods. but you couldn't reconcile with everything luke had done, what he was willing to do. you couldn't let your friends and thousands of innocent people die in the name of divine beings who valued power and control over all else. you couldn't hurt or betray people you loved for the sake of revenge, regardless of who your mother is. you couldn't turn that love against them, the way luke had, in search of justice.

deep down, you knew it wasn’t right to have him there in bed with you. if it was so wicked, sinful, treacherous — then why did you want him to stay?

“i’m not sure they have a word for what we are,” you concede, returning to the conversation moments ago.

"i guess not."

you let luke bring you into his arms that time. you rested your head against his chest. his heartbeat still steady, but a little slower. you idly traced your fingers across the marks you left on him, and you avoided the ones you didn't.

"how's your shoulder?"

"it's okay," luke sighed. he lifted your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "whatever we are: i love you."

those weren’t the words that were meant to make you sick, but your stomach churned — with nausea or desire, you weren’t sure.

you moved to straddle his hips. your eyes glanced over a scar you didn't register until now. the cut you had sliced across his cheek that afternoon he tried to kill percy, and then ran away from camp. you had a similar one that he had given you during that same struggle.

matching tattoos, matching scars. there really was no word for what you and luke were to each other.

"i love you too.”

at some point throughout the night, with luke’s strong arms wrapped around you and your legs intertwined beneath tangled sheets, it occurred to you that luke must have tracked you down for a particular reason.

maybe he was here to convince you to join kronos' army, to help him overthrow the gods and burn the world as you knew it; maybe he was here to break your heart all over again, just for the sick thrill of it; maybe he did just want to have one more night together, enemies or otherwise. maybe, maybe, maybe.

luke’s soft snores lulled you to sleep, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the scales of justice.

you'd figure it out in the morning. then you'd decide whether or not he deserved a blade to the heart.

#i haven't seen the finale but from the gifs my heart is already broken #and here i am breaking it more <3 #luke castellan angst #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x fem!reader #saf writes #Spotify #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo show #pjo fanfic #pjo series

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rafesaddiction · 10 months

Text

The tight end (or: Football Lessons) – Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: You need to study for your exams and Rafe wants to watch the football game with his friends. Studying is boring and you need a little help from the boys. Rafe is not pleased.

Warnings: mdni! – heavy smut, spanking, rough sex, p in v, semi-public sex (they can hear you), fingering (they sure can see that), possessiveness, kinda size kink cause rafe is big, bratty!reader, grumpy!rafe, dom!rafe, mean!rafe, amused!barry, curious!kelce, i-can't-with-this!topper

Word count: 1.5k

Tagging @dream-pink , @dope-trope-105 since this is most definitely Rafe Cameron smut. Enjoy!

a/n This is none of the stuff I said I was working on, just something short to indulge myself. Something light and fun. It kinda takes place in the same “universe” as Hole Practice, but it's not part 2. Comments, reblogs and likes are more than welcome. They keep me from going insane. Go Panthers!

“Gonna get myself another beer,” Rafe groaned as he lifted himself of the la-z-boy.

“Might need something stronger to suffer through this shit show.”

He looked at Barry who had made the comment and was pointing at the tv screen with his beer bottle.

On the screen the Panthers were literally fucked up the ass. And they deserved it as they delivered their worst performance ever. This game really sucked. Rafe hadn't bet any money, but he took it kinda personal when his favorite team performed this shitty. It totally ruined his mood. To be fair, it didn’t take much to ruin Rafe's mood, but this was like in the top 20 of mood-ruining events. And this was supposed to be a nice relaxing evening, watching the game with his friends. Yeah, Barry was now officially one of his friends and none of Rafe's kook friends ever doubted his status – if they had, that would totally have ruined Rafe's mood.

“While you're at it, pretty boy, fetch me another one too,” Barry shook his half-empty bottle and grinned at Rafe, who had stopped on his way to leave the living room.

“Anything else I can do for you?” Rafe said in a sarcastic tone, frowning.

“You have some of these tiny snack bites? Diced cheese with a toothpick?”

Rafe shot Barry a deathly glare, who just chuckled.

“Uhm, I'd like another beer, please,” Topper's voice came from the left and Rafe's head spun around, making the blond shrink into the couch and mumble some sort of apology. Next to him, Kelce snickered.

Frowning, clenching his jaws, Rafe went to the kitchen – without killing one of his friends, yet.

Still frowning, Rafe rummaged through the fridge to get four bottles of beer. There were actually some cheese bits, which he left there, but he took a bag of chips out of the pantry, and returned to the living room.

And stopped in the doorway, almost dropping the beer at the sight of you sitting on the armrest of Barry's la-z-boy. You had your back to Rafe and were obviously engaged in some very intense conversation with Barry. You had drawn up your legs and were kinda kneeling sideways on the armrest. You wore one of Rafe's t-shirts, too big for you, but barely covering your ass. Your legs were naked – apart from the cat paw socks you wore.

“What are you doing here?”

You were not supposed to be here. You were supposed to be upstairs, studying for your upcoming exam. You were definitely not supposed to be cuddling up to Barry.

Rafe was fuming as you craned your head back to him and gazed at him with innocent eyes.

When you saw him, a sweet smile appeared on your face.

“Hi, Rafey.” Rafe flinched at the hideous nickname, but you continued speaking. “I was looking for you. I needed some help with opening a water bottle and Barry was so nice to help me.”

Barry sat up, looking at Rafe, winking at him and showing said water bottle.

“Always a pleasure to help a damsel in distress,” he said, his gold tooth showing as he grinned at Rafe whose face had turned red by now, his features tensed up, his nostrils flaring.

“And now he’s telling me all about the tight end.”

You smiled.

Barry grinned.

Kelce snickered.

Topper choked.

Rafe growled.

“Upstairs. Now.”

“But –” you turned towards Rafe, your feet dangling from the armrest, you looked up at him, pouting.

“Now!” Rafe barked and you flinched.

Having put the bottles and chips on the coffee table, Rafe walked up to you, grabbed you, threw you over his shoulder and carried you with him, despite your squealing protests.

Rafe sat you down on the kitchen island. You looked at him, with big eyes and sulky lips. His hands rested on either side of you.

“The fuck were you doing? I specifically told you not to come downstairs!”

He glared at you through narrowed eyes, tilting his head to the side.

You lowered your gaze, your fingers playing with the hem of the shirt you were wearing.

“I was bored,” you admitted in a soft voice. Then you looked up, just with your eyes, meeting his.

“Please don't be mad at me,” you nibbled on your bottom lip, effectively directing his gaze. Then your lips parted, you breathed out and he saw the corners of your mouth twitch. “Rafey…”

He let out an angry growl, grabbed you, flipped you around and you squealed as your chest was pressed down on the hard surface of the kitchen island. Rafe shoved up your t-shirt and his hand hit your butt, only covered by your pink lace panties.

“Don't. Ever. Call. Me. That. Again!” Rafe growled between gritted teeth and each word was accompanied by a slap on your ass.

You cried out, then tried to muffle your cries and whimpers by covering your mouth with both your hands, as Rafe gave your ass a very thorough spanking. He didn't care that your whining and crying could surely be heard in the living room as he hadn't bothered to close any of the doors.

One hand holding you down as you tried to wriggle your way out, while his other hand mercilessly slapped your ass and thighs, leaving marks in the form of his hand print.

His palm started burning and your skin must have felt as if in flames by now.

He was panting heavily behind you, his eyes on your ass as he pulled down your panties. He noticed the soaking wet stain and his hard cock twitched inside his pants.

You were a whimpering mess, your body trembling and only focused on the burning sensation his hand had caused, or you would have noticed what he was up to and you would surely have complained that you were still too sore from when Rafe had fucked you under the shower this morning.

You cried out as he pushed his hard cock into your tight pussy. He growled as he felt your walls clamping around him. He gave your already sore ass another slap, then started thrusting into you in a relentless rhythm, deep and hard, punishing you by using your body to satisfy his own needs. Your cries turned into whimpering sounds as he gave you what your body so desperately craved for.

Whatever you tried to say came out as a whining noise. His name was the only intelligible word you were able to utter.

“Rafe,” you cried.

“Rafe,” you moaned.

“Rafe,” you begged.

He grabbed the back of your neck, pulled you up, made you turn your head and his lips met yours in a fervent kiss, devouring and bruising. He felt you clench so hard around him and moaning into his mouth as you came around him. Pushing your trembling chest flush against the surface, he fucked you through that orgasm, savoring your heated body's uncontrolled convulsing, your shameless moaning and enjoying knowing that he did this to you, that he was the only one who made you feel this way.

Rafe came with a groan, his cock buried up to the hilt inside your soaking pussy, filling you with his hot cum. He felt how you tensed up at the sensation and your walls clenched, milking him.

When he pulled out, you whimpered.

“Shhh…” He caressed your back as he cleaned you with a kitchen towel and put your panties back on.

Rafe cradled you into his arms and carried you back to the living room.

Barry chuckled, but didn't say a word as Rafe shot him a menacing glance.

Rafe reclined in his chair and you cuddled up to him, burying your face at his heaving chest. You were still trembling, your legs drawn up to your own chest and you were clinging to Rafe, when he caressed your back with one hand, the other hand holding a beer bottle as he focused on the screen again where the Panthers had somehow managed to turn the game around.

Rafe's hand trailed along your thigh and you flinched. You pressed your mouth against his chest and he heard you whimper as his fingers brushed over the sore skin. And not only he could hear your little whining sounds has he grabbed your ass.

Barry looked at you from the corner of his eyes and then grinned at Rafe, slightly shaking his head, lifting his bottle to drink.

Kelce licked his lips as his eyes moved over your body.

Topper stared at the tv screen, clutching his bottle so hard, his knuckles turned white.

Rafe’s hand shoved your shirt up, rubbed over your bruised cheek. His fingertips pushed your panties to the side and slid between your folds, eliciting a sweet mewling sound from your lips.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #outer banks #obx #smut fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe fic #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x you #rafe cameron drabble #obx fic #outerbanks #outer banks smut #barry obx #topper thornton #kelce obx

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sophieshyacinthgarden · 4 months

Text

Damsel in Distress

Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Anthony Bridgerton decides to play hero after you get stuck in the rain but little does he know you don’t need saving.

Warnings: Foul Language, Bickering, Anthony and Reader fighting like children, Smut, Fingering, P in V, Unprotected Sex (Wrap it before you tap it)

The forest around Aubrey Hall was rather peaceful and that was exactly what you had been looking for since you arrived at the beginning of the summer. You were a close family friend of the Bridgertons and had been invited to stay the summer before going on the marriage mart in hope of finding a match. This summer was supposed to be your last chance of relaxation, but so far it’s been anything but relaxing.

It’s not as though the Bridgertons treated you unfairly, on the contrary they treated you as part of the family. At least all of them did except for one, Mr. Viscount Bridgerton himself. He had a habit of bickering with you non-stop, criticizing you on random habits, constantly saying that at this rate you would never find a husband. Due to his behavior, you have taken a rather dislike to the young man. For who was he to critique you on anything?

The trees swayed gently to the tune of a light breeze giving the forest a comforting atmosphere. You sat atop of your horse and slowly rode closer to the lake attempting to get a better view. Small fish in hues of orange and gold swam in the crystal blue waters helping ease your mind. They swam circles around each other making you wish you could be as carefree as them. Your brown stead slowly began to shake his head, you stormed his mane,”Shhhh, my darling calm down.”

You looked up and saw the clouds had began to cover up the once so cheerful sky. The golden sun had faded from view as silver clouds hid it. The air had become thicker and you could feel suddenly colder. You knew that deep down a storm was a coming and it was coming soon. You grabbed the reins of your horse and slowly moved it backwards urging for him to move away from the lake and to make his way back on the path.

Obediently your horse followed your command and made his away from the lake. Out of no where you hear a brash sound causing your horse to rear its head. You patted his head urging him to calm down. Like on clock work the rain began to fall. Instead of falling as a drizzle it fell down in buckets completely drenching you head to toe. You attempted to get your horse back on track but it was difficult due to the growing amount of mud causing a slippery track.

The rain had almost completely carried away your path. Despite this you tried to retrace your steps to get back to the hall but your plans were to no avail. The more you attempted to find your way out the more you became lost. It was as though the rain had messed with your sense of direction for you could no longer find the difference between left and right. Every turn you took seemed the same, every tree, every rock, nothing helped you realize the exact location of where you were. “Damn it!” you exclaimed.

A clunk was heard from behind you and you turned quickly to investigate the sound. Sitting atop of his horse acting all high and mighty was none other than Anthony Bridgerton. His hair clung to his face due to the mass amount of water that was falling, he looked like a mess if you were being honest, an attractive mess. He smirked when he made eye contact with you, a triumphant look on his face.

“I see you’re in need of some assistance, love,” Anthony told you rather smugly.

You frowned,”On the contrary I don’t need assurance, for I know exactly where I’m off to.” In all retrospect, you had no idea where you were going but he didn’t need to know that. You were a complete disaster.

“Oh?" Anthony raises an eyebrow at your words. He is amused by your reply. He looks at you intently for a moment, studying your expression. Then he nods towards where he is,”Then you'd best take shelter out of this rain. Perhaps in the hunting cabin since you know where you’re going.”

That no good cocky bastard, you thought. He clearly knew you had no idea where the hunting cabin was so he gestured for you to follow him. You followed him around in the rain for a good solid five minutes until you realized that he was as lost as you were. You rolled your eyes at his idiotic behavior. Why was he portraying himself on such a high horse if he was a fool as well.

“Allow me to take the honors of leading us to safety, since you’re doing such a wonderful job,” you told him sarcastically. He scoffed and told you to lead the way.

You remembered that Colin and Anthony had taken Gregory out to go hunting yesterday. You also remembered that all three boys are rather disorganized, so naturally they must have left some kind of evidence of their stay somewhere. The rain poured down even harder and your patience was wearing thin. You studied every rock formation every tree in hope of something, some kind of clue. And that’s when you found it, a series of discarded arrows stuck in trees or littered around floor. Thank goodness for Gregory’s bad aim.

Anthony followed you as you made your way weaving through trees into you finally fell upon a wooden cabin. The pair of you quickly hitched the horses into the attached stables to keep them well taken care of. After that job was done, you two ran into the cabin desperately awaiting the warmth and shelter.

The cabin was warm and kept you be safe from the harsh weather conditions outdoors. The interior was comfortable, well-appointed, and spacious. Anthony took off his coat and reached for yours to hang them up on the coat rack. You obliged and sat by the fire attempting to regain your strength. “I told you I knew where I was going,” you stated matter of factually.

“Of course you did,” he said, as he sits down next to you. The rain was now drumming on the roof, providing a gentle backdrop to your situation.

You rolled your eyes once more,”What were you doing in the rain?”

Anthony smirks, his eyes twinkling with amusement,”I could ask the same of you." He looks casually out at the rain pouring outside, his voice a low rumble.

“That’s still not giving me an answer,” you scold him.

He sighs,” I couldn't sleep this morning, so I decided to take an early morning ride. I didn't think I'd be playing the part of a savior for a young damsel in distress along the way."

You look at him with a look that can only described as disgust,”I am no damsel in distress.”

Anthony laughs at your words. "Ah, but are you not? You're out here alone, lost in the pouring rain, with no idea where you were, no less. If that's not damsel in distress material, I'm not sure what is."

You look at him,” As for you? You’re quite the same, you’re situation is identical to mine. So by your rules, does that not make you a damsel in distress?”

Anthony's eyes darken. He laughs, the sound sending a strange stirring through your body. He shakes his head at your words,”Oh, I assure you, love. I am no damsel. I am not lost, nor am I helpless. I am a man who knows when to take control and seize what he wants. And I do not shy away from a little rain."

“Oh sure! You cowered away from the rain the same way I did! And you have no idea what you truly want no matter how much you say do!” you exclaim. He studies you and narrows his eyes. Slowly he leans into your face until they’re almost touching, your breath hitches in your throat. You had never had a chance to appreciate how gorgeous his brown eyes are or how perfect his jawline seemed. Now you couldn’t help but seem mesmerized by his features, you wanted to blame it on the weather yet you couldn’t find the heart to.

He leans in even closer, his eyes meet yours with a smoldering intensity. His voice is low and seductive as he replies, "I know what I want, my love. Power. Control. Pleasure. And in this very moment, I find myself wanting you."

You shake your head in disbelief,” You cannot be serious, Anthony.” Your face begins to flush as you meet his gaze.

He looks at you intently, his gaze searching yours. His eyes hold a mixture of desire and sincerity. "I am being serious, my dear. I find myself drawn to you, in this moment and always. You are a woman of wit and strength, and I find that I want nothing more than to have you by my side. My heart desires you, and I do not lie when it comes to matters of the heart."

Anthony's eyes soften at your response. He leans in, his hand reaching out to lightly touch your cheek. He leans even closer, his face just inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. "I wish to kiss you, my dear. May I?"

Your face turns red at his word, pathetically you mutter out the words,”Of course you can.”

Anthony's eyes darkened with desire at your consent. He leans in and gently captures your lips in a deep, yet passionate kiss. His kiss is possessive yet tender, his lips devouring yours with an intoxicating mix of need and desire. The rain continued to fall outside, but in this moment, there is only the two of you and the fierce chemistry that ignites between you.

Slowly Anthony begins to make his way on top of you, having you lay back first on the carpet. His fingers tantalizingly move between the vast layers of fabric of your skirt and begin to make their way up. Your breath hitches as his hands move, he takes notice of this,”Can I pleasure you, my love? I understand if you’re not comfortable with this, you are a lady after all and I am a gentleman.”

You sit up and cup his face between your hands,”I’ve never been more comfortable with anything. Go ahead and do to me whatever you please.”

Anthony's hands roamed up your body, pulling you closer to him as he deepened the kiss. His tongue danced with yours, exploring your mouth with a possessive and determined hunger. The air between you became thick with desire, and Anthony's lips were like fire against yours.

He decides hands to grab hold of your body, and he pulls you into his lap, his lips never breaking contact with yours. His kisses become more urgent, his tongue demanding entry into your mouth, claiming you as his own. He pulls you flush against his chest, pinning you against him as he deepened the kiss even further.

His fingers move underneath all the fabrics and he finally reaches your clit. He begins to massage your nub, making you moan at the friction. His fingers tease your wet folds and he plunges his middle finger into your entrance. You had never felt this kind of sensation before, it was exhilarating. He curls his finger inside of your sensitive walls. Anthony leans into your ear as you began to moan,”Who knew you’d be such a little whore? You’re supposed to be a promising young lady, yet you moan like a bitch in a whorehouse.”

You buck your hips towards him, at his vulgar words,” You like that don’t you?” Anthony asks, as he pushes another finger inside of you and begins to stretch out your walls,” You like it when I call you out for being the slut you are.” With not an ounce of shame you nod along like the pathetic, little slut you were.

“I’m a slut, but only for you Anthony,” you look up at him your glossed over doe eyes.

Anthony laughs at your hopeless state. He moves his fingers in and out of your tight cunt, getting a proper pace. He curled his fingers in a way that made you see stars. His fingers maneuvered your pussy as though it was made for him. Soon you felt a knot growing in your stomach, a feeling you couldn’t explain. You began to whine,”Anthony! I feel like I’m going to pee! Please let me up!”

He doesn’t stop fingering you, if anything he goes even faster. You begin to panic, you didn’t want to piss on him… but his fingers felt so good. His fingers plunged in and out. You felt your orgasm wash over you like a wave. It felt so amazing you couldn’t even explain it, slowly Anthony pulled his fingers out of your pussy. He put his digits in his mouth and he began to lick off your juices. He rolled his tongue around them and sucked them erotically.

Anthony reached down to his pants and carefully began to unbutton them. You were unsure of what he was trying to do, yet you went along with him anyway. He turned over to you and practically ripped your dress off of you, of course with your permission first. You were left bare in front of him, instinctively you wanted to cover yourself up but his hands stopped you. “You’re gorgeous my darling, don’t hide yourself from me,” he said tucking your hair behind your ear.

You nodded and felt comforted by his words; he leaned down and placed a kiss on your breast. Anthony then unbuttoned his collar, as he took off his apparel. Your eyes study his bare, toned body, your hands instinctively go straight to his chest. You feel his heartbeat quicken beneath your touch. He looks down and you notice something hard poking you from underneath. It’s coming from his breachers.

Swiftly he pulls them down and his cock is sprung free. Your eyes widen in shock, for you have never seen something so thick and long before. His tip is slightly curved and is a light pink color. His balls lay at the top, heavy and full. His happy trail makes a perfect path from his v-line to his dick. At first you’re unsure what he’s going to with it. He wraps his hand around his shaft and gives it a few pumps before picking you up.

Anthony slowly spreads open your folds, as he carefully inserts his erect cock into your tight little pussy. You slowly sit onto it and he bottoms out inside of you. Both of you let out a long moan as the tip of his dick hits your sweet spot. “Now I’m going to start moving if that’s okay?” he tells you, and you nod.

He lifts his hips and carefully moves himself in and out of your wet cunt. His tip hits the same spongy spot of your insides that causes your eyes to roll back into your head. You begin to meet his hips as well, bouncing on his dick helplessly. “Oh god, you feel so good,” he tells you as your walls squeeze and his shaft. You moan as you ride his dick, tears swelling up in your eyes. You keep searching for that release from earlier desperately.

Anthony keeps moving inside of you, moaning uncontrollably. Soon that knot that you once felt, began to grow again. Anthony’s hips began to stutter so you assumed he had reached some kind of a high as well. You two continued your pace, until you two reached your climax. Your warm cum began to ooze around the ring of his base making a white circle. The mere sight of it had Anthony shooting his load into your pussy. Your walls grew warm as they were coated by the white strings of his cum. Soon your fluids mixed and you had a mixture of both of your climaxes leaking out of you.

Carefully Anthony pulled out and laid you down onto the carpet. With his finger he pushed the mixture of your cum back into your gaping hole that was now clenching around the lack of space. He got up and grabbed a warm towel to clean the both of you up a little as well as a blanket. He began to spoon you and wrapped his arms around you body. You both laid underneath the blanket exhausted.

“I don’t believe you’re going to have to go through the obstacles of navigating the marriage mart this year,” he sighs into your hair.

You laugh at what he was insinuating,”I sure I hope I don’t.”

He studies his eyes full of complete love and adoration,” Maybe I should come to your rescue more often.”

You shake your head,”I am not a damsel in distress.” The pair of you cuddled while the fire roared, out looking the soft rain, deciding that it would be for the best to stick out the rain inside.

The pair of you both knew that when you arrived home the Bridgertons would be worried sick; they would most likely scold Anthony for not bringing you back in time. You also both knew that what had happened in this cabin will change your relationship forever. Who knows? Maybe by the end of the summer you’ll leave Aubrey Hall with a new title and your loving husband by your side.

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lavandulawrites · 3 months

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Genshin Impact Masterlist

Regular masterlist

Mondstadt

Men who love eating you out

Men who love seeing you cowered in his cum

Yandere Genshin Men With An Escaped Darling

Yandere Genshin Men With A Darling Who Compares Him With Fictional Men (Yandere Albedo x reader, yandere Diluc x reader)

Yandere Genshin Men On Their First Date With Their Darling: Venti

Liyue

Men who love eating you out

Men who love seeing you cowered in his cum

Yandere Genshin Men With An Escaped Darling

Yandere Alphabet T, P and J with Xiao

Undeserving (Yandere Zhongli x reader)

Inazuma

Men who love eating you out

Men who love seeing you cowered in his cum

Yandere Genshin Men With An Escaped Darling

Yandere Genshin Men With a Pregnant Runaway Darling

Sumeru

Men who love eating you out

Men who love seeing you cowered in his cum

Yandere Genshin Men With An Escaped Darling

Sumeru’s Damsel In Distress (Yandere Alhaitham, yandere Cyno, yandere Kaveh, yandere Tighnari x reader)

Sumeru’s Damsel In Distress Part 2 (Yandere Alhaitham, yandere Cyno, yandere Kaveh, yandere Tighnari x reader)

The Grocery Trip (Yandere Alhaitham x reader)

Yandere Alhaitham and yandere Childe with a darling who is scared of random things

Yandere Alhaitham with a reader who is sick

Jelly (Cyno x reader)

To Save Or Be Saved (Yandere Sethos x reader)

Yandere Genshin Men With A Darling Who Compares Him With Fictional Men (Yandere Tighnari x reader)

Fontaine

Men who love eating you out

Men who love seeing you cowered in his cum

Yandere Genshin Men With An Escaped Darling

Yandere Genshin Men With a Pregnant Runaway Darling

Yandere Alphabet with Lyney

Soft Jazz (Lyney x reader)

Yandere Genshin Men With A Darling Who Compares Him With Fictional Men (Yandere Neuvillette x reader)

The Fatui

Men who love eating you out

Men who love seeing you cowered in his cum

Yandere Genshin Men With An Escaped Darling

Yandere Genshin Men With a Pregnant Runaway Darling

In The Arms of A Longing Man (Yandere Childe/Ajax x reader)

In The Arms Of A Longing Man (Rewritten) (Yandere Childe x reader)

Yandere Alhaitham and yandere Childe with a darling who is scared of random things

Hurry Before The Dinner Gets Cold (Yandere Dottore x reader)

Yandere Alphabet with Il Dottore

Yandere Vampire Men (multiple, yandere Pantalone x reader)

Natlan

Cares (Yandere Kinich x reader)

A Supporting Friend (yandere Kinich x reader)

Other

Yandere Genshin Men With An Escaped Darling

Autonomy Of a Free Soul

Chapter 1: Wonderland

#yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x female reader #yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere male x reader #yandere male #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x female reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #x reader #masterlist

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boizandgurlzinthehouse · 10 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃-𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒.

pairing: coriolanus snow x toxic!fem!reader

summary: someone always throw a spanner in her works, to achieve her biggest dream —being coriolanus’ lover, wife and claiming power. luckily, y/n is not on the loser side when it comes to playing.

trigger warnings (overall): mastermind!reader, toxic!reader (for real, she’s doing nasty things), reader’s family is a bit fucked up, reader is obsessed with coriolanus snow, lying, swearing, blood, violence, killing people, hunger games stuff, i just love volumnia gaul, reader hates lucy gray and everybody who’s around coriolanus, mental health problems mentioned such as psychotism, domestic violence mentioned, drugs, mention of sexual fantasies.

trigger warnings (in this part): toxic!reader, reader meets lucy gray for the first time, reader hates arachne, DEATH, blood, cruelty against people, reader is obsessed with coriolanus snow, lying, swearing, unhealthy body image, drugs, SMUT, p in v, fingering, poorly written smut.

prologue. part 1. part 2.

y/n squirmed on the inside.

it was strange, but not unusual. y/n always squirmed when she went to the zoo, seeing animals in locked cages was not her kind of pleasure. it didn’t help that the media was there too, so she had to play nice in front of everyone. probably she could never warn lucy gray, not to mention that in front of coriolanus. if she ever said a word about executing her from the picture in any sort of ways, lucy gray was surely the tricky bitch who would spill it to him. and that was the last thing she needed. y/n sighed, blinking a couple of times before she turned to the grid of the cage the tributes were held –being nice to not to get unveiled was truly a tiring thing. but at least, lucy gray wasn’t the one who got to go to dinner with coriolanus. no, not on her watch.

“are you feeling okay, y/n?” did she look not okay? that can’t be possible. even if her uterus were eating her up and her corset tried to pierce her ribcage, y/n’s rule that she should never look like a damsel in distress, she just shook her head.

“everything’s fine, corio. will you introduce me to lucy gray?”

so here we go.

safe to say, lucy gray was pretty good looking. y/n had to admit this, she could state anything about anybody, but being pretty was really objective, based on the standards. of course, not as good- and well-looking as someone from the capitol, anyone could always judge if a person was from the capitol or one of the districts. even people from the first and second district were much more… chav. lucy gray was skinny, underfed and messy, how could she ever compare with y/n? nevertheless, she had to make sure that lucy gray doesn’t think of herself as though she believed she was. it was important for het to not become a main character in her game. y/n saw the whole world as a big, never-ending set of games, because it was, depending on how seriously people took it. because in the world, there were many games. games about money, about power, about life and death, and about control. and lucy gray wasn’t the one who had connections. but now wasn’t the time to beef, if lucy gray blows off at the games, coriolanus will never get the plinth-prize, and y/n didn’t had that much time and space to find out something for that, too. so lucy gray had to survive. y/n just had to make sure that the end justifies the means, and she was nothing but a tool to get money and power.

sejanus was already showing food for marcus. shit, sejanus… y/n’s mind was bugging, she still didn’t know what to do with him. if her game was a table of chess and coriolanus was the rook on the table, then sejanus was the queen… or the king. he could take a simple checkmate on all of her moves, no matter what. yes, sejanus was following coriolanus with getting food to his tribute, but only one bad move from him was enough to screw up all of her plans. and sure, he had noble parents, and he could pull out his head from the hook, but not coriolanus. and against the fact with the two being good friends, blood was still thicker than water.

“lucy gray, this is my good friend, y/n y/l/n.” and his soon-to-be wife and lover.

“hello, y/n.” act casual, act natural. don’t talk about feeling sorry for fucking around the mayor’s daughter and her lover, this isn’t announced. never let them know you did research all night.

“hi, lucy gray. how are you feeling? probably… not so good because of this cage.”

“i’m pretty fine, thank you. just hungry a little bit.”

“oh, i brought you food. y/n and i thought about getting you food.”

“yes. you have to be strong for the games.” if you dare to die, i’m going to kill you myself. how could anybody do this small talk for so long? words didn’t came into her mouth, she wasn’t the type who could talk for hours about nothing. there were days when she was alone with the maids in the house, or upstairs, and she didn’t talk for days if nobody bothered her.

“thank you so much.” lucy gray whispered, taking the cookie, offering one to her. y/n looked at the cookie, then her. looking at the cameras, she shook her head. eating a cookie with a tribute? if somebody sees this, she will be treated equally as the other students, and she won't let it. she was now a working woman, one of the workers of volumnia gaul, what would she say if she saw this?

“oh, no… i can’t eat cookies. i just had breakfast.” she wasn't in the mood to eat cookies with this girl, watching how arachne played with her tribute was more interesting.

“you said you skipped breakfast because you slept in.” looking at coriolanus, y/n slapped herself in her mind. her bleeding days were killing her brain, and no medicine could make her concentrate enough.

“uhm, yeah, but i ate at work. really, we bought the cookies and the food for you, so–” what the fuck was with her? were the pills she took yesterday night too strong?

“y/n, did you eat or not?” coriolanus’ question and his worried face made her… satisfied. not because he was worrying about her, but because he was busy with her. y/n blinked up, shrugging her shoulders. thinking about he’s gonna be worried about her when they’re gonna be a couple, even pregnant, it was pure pleasure.

“it’s alright, corio. i will eat when i get home, and i will eat at night, on our date.” she whispered, audible enough to lucy gray. holding his hand, she hoped she reassured her. “really, it’s nothing. let’s… care about lucy gray, she’s your tribute.”

as coriolanus crouched down to her, y/n wanted to do the same, but lucretius flickerman was faster, approaching her with his loyal cameramen.

“...and what a surprise that we are seeing a true noble, a noble from the noble, y/n y/l/n! tell me, how are you here?” he asked, y/n tried not to look into the camera as he almost showed the microphone into her mouth.

“i just accompanied coriolanus and the others from the school. as well as they’re his friends and classmates, they’re my friends, too.”

“how cute! tell me y/n, if you could bet on one of the tributes, perhaps even supporting them, who would you choose?” tricky question, tricky question! if everybody sees this, hyping up coriolanus wasn’t a bad idea.

“i think… it’s a good question. some of them, such as marcus and lucy gray. i think they’re good. marcus seems strong, and lucy gray… she surely knows more than just singing.” she wanted to punch the cameramen, everybody could surely see how white her teeth were.

“it’s really interesting… also, we heard a rumor that you work with volumnia gaul now. is it interesting to see how the games improve?” trying not to furrow her eyebrows, y/n looked at lucretius.

“my work at dr. gaul and everything that happens there is strictly confidential. i can’t say anything about the games, but it’s gonna be really entertaining.”

“thank you so much, lady y/l/n! now, let’s see how–”

clunk! the sounds of iron and glass clashing catched the showman’s ears too, looking into the direction. y/n couldn’t decide to laugh or look terrified at the sight of the blood that was mounting from arachne’s neck. standing at the grid of the cage, she saw as coriolanus hurried to help arachne. he was still running to help her, a really, really good man… y/n knew why she loved him.

“what the hell happened?” lucy gray whispered to her, making her shake out from her state. looking at her, y/n clenched her jaw.

“i’m going there. stay away from that girl who stabbed her.”

stepping to the scene, y/n crouched down too, caring about not touching the soiled ground with her silk skirt, wondering about the color of the blood. a big pool, arachne’s life. one hand still around the bottle, she was smart enough to keep it in, but she couldn’t like with a broken bottle in her neck forever! sardonic slut, making jokes of everyone, licking up and kicking down. i know you talked about me when i wasn’t near, calling me a psycho, and that i was my parent’s pet and mentally disabled for being a private student. the truth is, i never could stand that perfidious snake-face of yours. how could you ever face the mirror in the morning without breaking it with your eyesight? without spitting on yourself?

“y/n, what are we gonna do?” coriolanus asked her. his hands were shaking, one at her neck. she brushed arachne’s hair, trying to patch up the blood with her handkerchief, wiping her eyes like she was crying. everybody was rushing from them and the cage, peacekeepers were surrounding them.

“i don’t know, dear… i am so sorry, arachne was such a good friend of yours…”

“somebody help, please!” he cried out, making her look away, to the exact point as one of the men shot the stabbing tribute girl in the stomach. well, at least lucy gray didn’t have to worry about her any longer. “what the fuck is happening, y/n?”

“i don’t know, i don’t know!” she knew exactly. just as the peacekeepers grabbed coriolanus’ and her arm to drag them away, y/n signed them to let her go. “i just… i just want to look at her, please, for the last time.”

“you only got one minute. your little friend stays here.”

stepping over arachne’s body, she lowered down to see the light gone from arachne’s eyes. as her hair covered her face, y/n tried to press down the smile as she thought about her list. look at you, arachne… mocking everybody, and now you became the prey? deep down, you wanted to die like this, didn’t you? as a victim. so everybody can forget how sordid you are. nobody will ever know the truth about what you did, playing with that filthy girl’s food, what did you think she will do? jump around and beg for you? now, everybody only can say how clever and beauty you were, how hard you tried to get the fucking plinth prize, cracking their hands as they look at each other at your funeral. nobody will ask why the girl stabbed you, thanks to the contrary of the capitol and the districts, but hey, that’s why we love being distinguished, isn’t it? and don’t worry, i’ll keep your secrets, and you don’t even have to thank me crane, because i am a good friend. a really good one.

reaching for her eyelids, y/n slowly pulled them down. she was never near a dead body, and the thought of it disgusted her a little bit. she wasn’t a killer, she was… a gamer. a really good one. the blood almost spilled on her shoes, how filthy.

turning back to coriolanus as they walked out, she leant her head on his shoulder. instantly thinking about the date, would it be morbid to kiss upon their dead friend’s corpse? arachne has nothing to do with this. well, she had nothing to do with this.

“are you okay, dear?” she asked from him, looking up to him.

“yes, it’s just… i still can’t perceive what happened. and you, are you okay?” coriolanus muttered as they sat down on one of the benches in the park. cars were honking, wheels clashing against the gravel; the ambulance arrived. a hearse could be better, but y/n couldn’t blame them. it was strange to see clemensia and arachne get out of the picture, they were sidekicks for too long.

“i am okay, thanks.”

“you just saw her dying, and went back, why did you do that?” looking at him, coriolanus shook his head. “i’m sorry y/n, i shouldn’t ask you that, it’s just… i was so terrified, maybe i am still right now.”

“i just… wanted to say goodbye. arachne was a little bit mocky all the time, but… she was a friend. a good one.” her sound was a little bit catatonic in her head, all the time she told a lie.

“you are right. sorry for asking this, really, i didn’t have the spirit to go back there.”

“don’t worry, corio. maybe she shouldn’t play with that girl… you know how cruel the games can be.”

“you are right, y/n. the games are stressful for everybody.” y/n nodded, reaching for his hand.

“do you have the stomach for tonight? i know this is horrible, but… maybe we can get each other into a better mood.”

looking at her, she tried to smile a little bit. not a too big, unnatural smile compared to the fact that somebody just died, and not even a poker face like she didn’t fucking care about what happened.

“of course i have the stomach, it would be my pleasure, y/n. i just have to go home to change.” coriolanus answered, making y/n truly, truly happy.

“it’s really good to hear.”

a death is one thing, but the future is another.

she had to make the move, arachne’s death could slow down things. hortensia pulled her hair a little bit, curling it with little clips, swirling her locks around heated sticks. this night had to be perfect, exactly because of what happened. running through her eyebrows with a clipper, she looked at the clock –she had still an hour, her clothes laid on her bed.

“you are gonna be so beautiful, miss y/l/n.” the maid praised her as she lined her eyebrows, spraying perfume on her wrists and behind her ears. morphia did the same when she was meeting timothé, and they were together, didn’t they? rubbing nacre powder over her eyelids, she was ready.

“could you pull my corset tighter, hortensia? please.” standing up, she held onto the pillar of her bed.

“are you sure, miss y/l/n? i’m afraid that–”

“i am sure, hortensia. we will be afraid if coriolanus snow won't like my appearance.”

it was painful. feeling her bowels sticking together, framed by her bones that dug into her stomach and lungs, but at least she looked desirable.

“are you feeling alright, miss y/l/n?”

“of course, i’m fine. thank you.” she muttered as the maid helped her pick up the clothes. a red dress, slightly slit up but not too long to look like a prostitute, a couple of black heels, not too high to fall in them. suddenly the door creaked, it was her mother. a glass of wine in her hand, she leaned on the doorframe, a silly smile on her face.

“look at my little girl, hortensia. isn’t she beautiful and adorable?” she asked, making the maid turn to her.

“she’s beautiful, lady y/l/n.”

“she already told me that, mommy.” y/n muttered, a little bit annoyed at the fact that her mother looked up and down on her like a piece of meat. sure, everybody always measured her like she was one, but her own family could at least have a little dignity for each other.

“it’s natural that you are stressed. is that a corset on you?” lorelei asked, placing down her cup to brush out the dress, the wrinkles on the waist area were long gone.

“thanks.” y/n responded.

“i was just as terrified as you before i met your father, i can tell you, y/n. but it went well, because the three of you are here, aren’t you?” she giggled, making y/n roll her eyes.

“don’t you have to watch the tv, mommy?” she turned to her as hortensia cleaned her shoes.

“i know you don’t want me here, my dear. and it’s perfectly fine that you want to concentrate on your little date today.” it’s not only a stupid little date, it’s the whole matter of my future. “also, i know that you want to marry coriolanus snow, but honey, is he really worth it?”

y/n turned, crouching in front of her mother; holding her hand as hortensia walked out, she knew her more than her mother. y/n could bear many things, but questioning her love was the main thing that set her mind on fire. looking at the place her mother stood only a couple of minutes ago, the hole of the butter knife got her eyesight. she looked like her mother too much, staring at her was like staring at the life she could get, but so much better.

“mommy, please. if you want to question me, talk with father about it. otherwise, never doubt me, ever.” talking with long, stiff words, y/n brushed her mother’s hand. “do you understand me?”

for a moment, she thought that her mother was gonna slap her, but instead, lorelei giggled. as she searched for her glass.

“you are much more determined than morphia, my dear. i hope your date will go well, the chauffeur is yours tonight. if snow comes too, then… don’t make much noise. your father won't be here tonight anyway, but i’d like to get some sleep.” she said, turning out on the door, closing it. hortensia asked if she could come in, making y/n nod. looking onto the picture where she and coriolanus stood, she didn’t even realize her heart was nearly beating out of her ribcage. picking up her white, snow-like stole, spraying perfume on herself, hortensia straightened her dress, escorting her down the stairs.

the place coriolanus offered wasn’t a big deal, but that’s what she needed. as long as they could talk without one of her father’s workers or her mother’s friends interrupting them, it was fine. helping her take off her stole and pull out the chair for her like a gentleman, y/n asked for an easy meal. not being able to think with a full stomach was one point of that, but the other was the meaning of the meal. watching his father’s guests taught her that when somebody wanted to have breakfast, lunch, dinner or even a fucking tea party, it wasn’t about food, no. food was just the cloak to cover up nasty things.

“are you feeling alright?” coriolanus asked her as they got their food. y/n dug into hers, then looked up at him, smiling. he didn’t look like a half-god; he looked like apollo himself. the dim light sculpted his cheeks and his lips, y/n wanted to dig into his hair between two messy kisses, and although she was a virgin, she could imagine how it was like to have him thrust into her, giving out the animal-like noises she remembered in her dreams.

“of course, this is a really lovely place. i am so happy that we are here, i wanted to do this for so long.” she answered, placing down her fork as she held his hand.

“for so long? how long, y/n?” he teasingly smiled, making y/n look away. for a lifetime, baby.

“from the moment… you helped me up in the hall of the college.”

“so from the moment we first met?”

“no, we met before! i…” will the truth hurt him? “...i noticed you at a dinner we attended with my family.” she was fourteen, and coriolanus moved things in her like nobody else. probably that was the time when the chemicals in her brain made her difficult, nearly banging her head against the wall as she couldn’t even understand herself.

“which one?”

“two years ago.” a little lie couldn’t hurt anybody.

“it’s gonna surprise you, but… i noticed you too, y/n. i wanted to talk to you, but you had to escort your sister, and my grandma said that it’s not appropriate.”

“really? that’s so… inevitable, don’t you think?”

“i don’t know about these things so much, y/n. but i think you are so beautiful.”

“thank you so much. you look also handsome, coriolanus. and… i want to talk about something, something that… can really, really influence our future.”

“really?” he asked, making y/n slightly lift her eyebrows. oh god, be not only a fling, y/n.

“yes, of course! you know, my family takes marriage really seriously, and…” seeing the slight worry on his face, y/n held his hand again. “i really don’t want to rush you, my dear. it’s just, my father gave his blessing when i told him that we are going on a date.” well, he’s not really, but he will. cyril will even thank her when she’s gonna be the first lady of panem.

“that’s wonderful, y/n! you know, i’d never guess that, because, you know… how me and my family, and my father–”

“corio, please. what happened in the past didn’t depend on you. it was a real, gigantic catastrophe.” those wankers took everything away from us. “who would have guessed what’s gonna happen with the thirteenth district? your family bet on the wrong horse, but sometimes, it happens.”

“i know, but it’s still my job to get money to help my family.” coriolanus answered, taking a sip from his wine. “you know, y/n, this plinth-prize thing is tiring me out as hell, and i really don’t know what to do. it can seem like i’m in control, but all i see are walls and i keep clashing into them. i knew i had a big chance to get that prize, and i hoped that things would turn out in a good way, but… i don’t know, it’s like a curse.”

y/n nodded, leaning on her hands, brushing the ring on her middle finger. her ring finger was reserved from the moment she saw coriolanus.

“i hope i’m not boring you, y/n, but–”

“no, of course you don’t! it is my pleasure that you share your concerns with me, although i can’t do much. i wanted to offer my help, but things happened too fast, and volumnia has eyes everywhere. i still don’t know what she’s going to think about today, when i lucretius asked me up. being asked before cameras is not my type.”

“don’t worry, i don’t like him either. but he’s gonna present the whole games, so i have to get used to it.”

“you will, my dear, and i have no doubts about that.” she smiled, eating some more. trying to get her foot more comfortable as the heels burned her soles, she accidentally knocked into coriolanus’ legs, making her look up at him. “oh my, sorry, it’s just…”

“don’t worry, y/n. does your feet hurt in those heels? i can’t comprehend that even when tigris are wearing them, they look awful to walk in.”

“no, it’s perfectly fine.” noble people doesn’t have to dig in the mine or sweat in the factories, but as hard to swallow a pill, the hard work is still their task –redistribution between districts and control all the twelve districts are really hard, while they have to wear uncomfortable shoes and suits, smiling every time even if the question is the most humiliating shit ever. deep down everyone in every district knew that if the capitolium lashed out, there wouldn’t be the slightest hope of survival.

“if you say so… and, how is the work with volumnia?”

“well, i can’t tell you secrets, but… she’s pretty okay.” she’s an animal. she would be ready anytime to pull my stomach out through my throat if i’d tell anything about what’s going inside there. “her ways are interesting, i admit that, nevertheless, she’s a mastermind.”

“i’d like to work beside a mastermind, or to talk with a mastermind.” silly boy, he was already dating with one right now. but even y/n didn’t know that. she never knew any other mindset than hers.

after dinner, coriolanus paid and helped her out of the restaurant. the city lights were dim and almost turned off, but the night didn’t end, not for them.

“thank you, corio. this was a lovely, lovely night.” she whispered, putting her hand on his shoulder as they stood before each other. she imagined as they stepped out from even such a little restaurant, photos flashing around them, people admiring them as they sat in the car to go home to a big castle or mansion.

“thank you for coming, y/n. and give my greetings and thankfulness to your father.” leaning down, more like supporting than holding her jawline gently with his fingers, he pressed a kiss on her forehead, y/n’s knees brushed in her excitement. only coriolanus could bring out this state from her, nobody and nothing else. she was a diamond under pressure, and coriolanus was the last push she always needed to be more perfect. as he ended the soft kiss, y/n pursed her lips, looked at his eyes, then his lips. and the next move surprised her even, tearing her soul into pieces in a good way.

coriolanus lifted up her face by her chin to kiss her. so this was it? this is what true love feels like? this is what fulfilled love and devotion feels like? he was so soft, she wanted to bite into his skin, but instead, her lips just brushed his, slimming down her hand to his chest, as he softly grabbed her neck to make her stay. oh my, y/n thought, sighing as she sipped a fresh bite of air through her nose. she didn’t want to end this, no. not tonight. god knows when they can be together again, be together like this.

behind them, a car honked. despite being a good chauffeur, helius isn’t the best at timing, y/n thought as she almost rolled her eyes annoyed by her chauffeur, brushing coriolanus’ face to make him stop.

“this is your car? sorry, i’m…”

“come with me, corio.” she whispered, brushing her lips against his chin.

“are you sure about that? your parents–” y/n grabbed his hand, slowly dragging him to the car as helius opened the door for them. coriolanus helped her get in, as the car started to drive, y/n turned to coriolanus. they began to kiss again, she tried to brush her tongue to his, but now he was the one who pushed her away gently, trying to brush his hair to look somehow collected. “y/n, your parents are home? i can’t be respectful enough if they see that i’m eating up their daughter.”

“my father isn't home, and my mother is sleeping now. please, dear…” she tried to lean over him, it was impossible because of the height difference. coriolanus smiled, brushing her face.

“how could i say no to you after this?” he said, letting her bury her lips into hers for the rest of the ride. arriving home, y/n nodded to helius as he could now retire for the rest of the night. stepping up on the marble front garden fastly, she opened the door. placing her finger before her lips, she signed to coriolanus to be quiet, hurrying up on the stairs to her room. y/n was glad that hortensia did her job and tidied up the place, so all they had to do was lie down and continue what they began.

“you are so beautiful”, coriolanus moaned as he peeled down his coat and his jacket, y/n threw her stole onto the dressing table.

“you are so handsome”, y/n whispered, kicking off her shitty but glamorous shoes, helping him unbutton his shirt as she kissed his jawline. something strange took over her mind; if someone asked her what she’s going to do tomorrow, she couldn’t answer, couldn’t form even a single thought. it was so animalistic, just as she hovered over coriolanus, sitting on his hips as she tried to unzip her dress, as coriolanus reached for it to help her, y/n remembered that she had a corset on. leaning away from him, she faced the mirror on the dressing table.

“what’s the matter, y/n? did i do something?” he asked, reaching after her as she tried to pull it off without him noticing, but it was impossible even for her. “y/n, what are you doing? is that… holy, you wear a corset?”

“yes, but… don’t worry, it’s just because…” who the fuck was her? she wasn’t bragging, why did she slip apart? she stopped her thoughts as coriolanus crawled behind her, helping her unzip her red dress, kissing her hair from behind.

“y/n, i hope you know that you don’t need that.” coriolanus muttered, grabbing the ropes of the corset to ease it around her form. kissing her hair again, then moving around to get to her cheeks. as he reached her lips, the corset was undone, thrown into the corner of the room. “it can stay there, love. look at yourself, how beautiful you are, the girl i fell in love with.”

looking into the mirror, it always saw makeup and craziness, and now… look at yourself, y/n, getting what you wanted. is this how the world works? is this how the university rewards me for my efforts, my sacrifices? y/n look at coriolanus in the mirror, the red dress holding the last bits of her breasts, turning to him, she let him get over. peeling off her dress, by an instinct, brushing his clothed cock with her knees, hearing an elated whine from him. she knew he was a virgin, she was too, but she moaned louder when coriolanus brushed her naked breasts, playing with her nipples while kissing her. it was so new, so unusual, and yet, everytime his fingertips touched her sensitive buds, she felt her blood striking down to her core.

“do you like this, y/n?” he asked, making her hiss, nodding as she looked up at him.

“yes… please, corio… i want you…” she gasped, trying to reach for his cock even if she didn’t know what it was going to feel like. coriolanus smiled shyly, reaching for her hips to lift it so he could take off her underwear. y/n wasn’t shy, and this was the first real pussy he ever saw, and if it depended on her, the last one, too. so, how could he compare her to any other girl?

“i want you, too. but… i heard that it can hurt.” he kissed her, and a slight pain striked her core as she felt something crawl up. she accidentally bit down on his lips too hard, drawing blood. “i’m sorry, y/n, i just thought that–”

“please don’t stop,” she cut into his words, grabbing his hand to guide it back. if his fingers were this long and stretching her out this much, how is she going to fit his perfect cock into her cunt? it was painful at first, but it changed to pleasure, she hoped coriolanus felt the same silk on the inside, the silk she felt every time she fingered herself. the impulse grew in her stomach, similar to the way when she was fingering herself, but it was another impulse. erratic, something she wanted to scoop up into a bowl and drink from it. coriolanus stopped, pulling his fingers out, y/n grabbed his wrist to lick herself off. it was messy, but she swore she saw his pupils dilated as he looked at her.

“i think it’s time for me to take this off too, isn’t it?” he asked, pulling down the waistband of his underwear. she hadn't seen so many cocks before, but he was so… beautiful. not too short, not too long, curling up a little bit, almost touching his abdomen from the excitement. y/n hoped that from the previous actions he got hard, because that’s what the girls always talked about at girly nights, but seeing the pre-cum dripping down on coriolanus’ cock got her mouth watering.

“do you want me to pleasure you?” she asked, already leaning up on her elbows. coriolanus shook his head, kissing her as he guided her to lay back down.

“no, love. it’s not about you, it’s just… i don’t think i’m going to last long even if we begin this,” he whispered, y/n giggled as coriolanus rolled his eyes joyfully.

“this is my first time too, corio.”

“i know, and i’m trying to make it hurt as little as i can, but please don’t be mad at me if–” y/n grabbed his chin, making him face again.

“how could i ever be mad at you?” she asked silently, brushing her forehead to his. coriolanus held her hand, grabbing his cock with the other, placing it to her core. y/n held onto his shoulder, just as in her dream.

“i hope you will enjoy this just as much as i do.” he whispered, kissing her, slowly slipping inside. y/n felt like she was teared apart, hissing, pressing her thighs to his waist. even a tear slipped from between her lashes as she tried to hold in the agonizing scream. she knew this would turn intp pleasure and sparks too, but it was so fucking unbelieveable to realize.

“should we stop, y/n?” coriolanus asked, his sound husky from the thigh feeling, burying his head into her neck. y/n shook her head, slipping her fingers into the hair on the back of his head.

“just keep going, it will be good, i believe”, she muttered, and with that, he began to thrust. the first dozen were painful, as if his cock tried to murder her, but after a little time, it eased up, and she caught herself softly moaning as their lips melted into each other again. “you can be faster if you want”, y/n whispered, making coriolanus nod, an adorable look on his face from trying to concentrate and not cumming. when he first hit the spot where she could never reach, y/n almost clawed into his back from the pleasure. she understood why people loved to make love; the way his cock filled her pussy was so natural and so perfect, her heartbeat and his moans thrumming in her ears, his big hand grabbing into hers stronger and stronger, not letting her lift up hers, ever, pinning down and dominating her. another tear striked from her eyes, but this was because of happiness, pure beatitude.

“i’m… ngh, love, i’m not going to last long”, coriolanus moaned, hitting her pleasure spot again and again, making y/n’s abdomen curl tighter and tighter. she felt as if she was a bomb ready to explode, reaching down with her free hand to her clit, circling it. it was too much, feeling how pubic lifted and fell every time he pulled out, only thrust into her, y/n turned her head so she could last longer, but it didn’t help, coriolanus was everywhere, in her mouth, her cunt, her hand, her ears and her eyesight, even in her mind.

“i’m…ah, corio, i’m going to cum, love…” she tried to say, his cock giving her the finishing move to push her over the edge. everything turned to white and black at the same time, she felt the pleasure and pressure blowing up in every cell of her body, striking through her veins to get the sensation from head to toe, thighs pressed to his side to make him go deeper, she felt her mouth opened, a silent scream coming out as a long, ragged, guttural moan. feeling him slowing down, she knew coriolanus reached his high too, laying his head on her collarbone, breathing heavily. for a moment, y/n didn’t know where she was, she only felt the softness under her, his body upon hers, and the last, tingling feeling in her pussy.

coriolanus pushed himself down from her, laying beside her on his back, placing his hand on his chest. y/n looked at him, panting, smiling as she could, kissing his face.

a couple minutes later she was dressed in a robe just as him, the blanket covering them. y/n laid on his chest, looking into the fire, grabbing one of his hands as he stroked her hair.

“this was fantastic, y/n. thank you so much, for everything.”

y/n rolled her eyes, kissing his skin as she smiled. this wasn’t the soft smile she formed in front of him, this was the smile she formed when she was alone, but the darkness kept her secrets. for a moment, clemensia and arachne long forgotten, even sejanus’s and lucy gray’s face faded as there were just the two of them.

“you don’t have to thank me for anything, corio. i am glad that you are happy.”

a/n: i'm really really really tired but i couldn't let you down girliez!! i hope you liked it, i passed my test but i'm gonna have another )): nevetheless, i'll try and write more and more parts because i have plans, so don't worry <3

taglist: @champomiel @stelleduarte @diamondsbestie @tomriddles-wh0re @ikeryn @americanprometheuss @themorriganisamonster @cybersry @marihoneywk @randomgurl2326 @jxynotfound @velunis @theoriginalwife000 @coconut-dreamz @lukepattersin

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow icons #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow #hunger games x reader #hunger games imagine #hunger games fic #hunger games fanfiction #ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader #ballad of songbirds and snakes imagine #ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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loliwrites · 7 months

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October: I'll Be The Moon

part three of fountain of sorrow

pairing: javier peña x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni warnings/tags: set between s2 & s3, early/mid ‘90s, single mother [reader has a young daughter][child won’t play a massive role], lots of f bombs, some dude gets a lil handsy, BAR FIGHT w/ a little blood, terrible exes, SMUT, unprotected p in v sex, fingering, soft sex, creampie, hand restraint [just by other hands], praise kink, catching feelings, cigarettes [are bad for you], one use of bitch [directed at javi], one use of slut [directed at reader], pre during and post-sex photos, terms of endearment [querida, good girl], female reader, no physical description, protective!javi, no use of y/n. word count: 7.4k series masterlist a/n: switching pov’s in this one. hope y’all are enjoying!

Two and a half months. That’s what it had taken for Javi to realize something was different. Previous women had been lucky if they lasted half as long. He generally wasn’t one for follow-through outside of work. And when he tried to pinpoint what exactly it had been that tipped the scales, it was an exercise in futility. It was just that he’d woken up on this particular Saturday – the weekend before Halloween – with a pang in his gut knowing that you’d be tied up the following weekend with the muñequita and your baby daddy. He’d questioned that… the baby daddy aspect of it… and tried not to sound too jealous or too offended. Doubt crept in that he hadn’t been too convincing.

Maybe it had been because his dad had started asking questions. What’re you doing on weekends? You never answer your phone. How come you never go to The Tack Room with us anymore? What girl have you got on the end of your line now? Oh, if Chucho only knew it was the chiquita on the end of Javi’s line, he’d probably have him drawn and quartered.

Or maybe it had been that night last weekend where, after laying side by side in the orgasmic afterglow, you’d turned into him, curled your hand around his shaft, batted those pretty please eyelashes at him, and did your best damsel in distress act about how the Halloween decorations were in boxes in the attic. Too heavy, too big for little ol’ you to carry down by yourself. And though it was already two in the morning (and you promised a thank you blowjob), he’d never moved faster to climb up into an attic, sift through the dust and cobwebs for the plastic bins holding skeletons and bats and little witches. Truth was he would’ve done it for you even without the blowjob offer; a point made evident when after he’d set the bins in the living room, you sank to your knees in front of him to pay up, only to be confused when he also sank to his knees. And instead of allowing any sort of sexual progression, he dragged the first of the plastic tubs between you and yanked the lid off. The muñequita will be happy to see the house decorated for Halloween.

All Javier knew was that by the time he was sitting at the bar on this Saturday night, something was stirring in him that was getting increasingly hard to pinpoint or ignore. If not only for himself, but because ever since his little shutdown last month – the let’s not talk about Colombia shutdown – you’d done an exemplary job of keeping things pure business. The sex was… efficient, for lack of a better word. Small talk was nonexistent. Any question that may have had you curious never saw the light of day. And except for the little favors here and there, nothing personal ever came up. He didn’t know how, but you were too good at it. Especially at the bar.

Which is why tonight… Javier had his beer bottle clutched in his hands. White-knuckled in a firm grasp. He’s surprised the thing didn’t shatter. He could understand that it was a job. He’d been around enough working girls to know that sometimes getting better tips meant flirting with the patrons. And he knew he had no reason to feel any sort of possessive. You weren’t his; he’d made sure of that when he shut you down and told you that this was just sex. Maybe it was only because this guy wouldn’t leave you the fuck alone.

He was a couple barstools down from Javi. No one sat between them, much to Javi’s chagrin. He couldn’t have ignored this guy even if he was so inclined. But this asshole… Robert, you called him… was way too much of everything with you. At least in Javi’s eyes. He was too flirty with you. Too monopolizing of your time. Too goddamn touchy. All the times Robert reached over and touched your hand or arm was one thing. Javi didn’t think it appropriate but it didn’t make him want to knock him out.

But the times when you walked out from behind the bar, drink tray in your hand, and Robert let his hand brush over your backside… too much. To you, Robert was just the drunk that hung out way too much at the bar. But he was also the drunk that tipped you way too much and you weren’t about to tell him not to. Was it demeaning to have him groping you… maybe. And normally you wouldn’t let it happen. But the money…

The first time it happened, Javi nearly got out of his seat, but he was given pause when you turned around and faced Robert. He thought you were going to knock him to the floor. But instead, you only shot him a playfully disapproving glance and shook your head before carrying on with the task you’d set out to do in the first place. And that… Javi knew that wasn’t going to be the end of it. The second time it happened, Robert had gotten brave with a firm hand placement on your ass. That time you turned around and gently chastised him. Something like, “Robert,” your voice elongated the first vowel in his name. But the drunk just giggled and acted like a little innocent boy. Javi, however, felt his blood boiling.

But the third time it happened. Game over. You’d come out from behind the bar again, this time to clear off some tables littered with empty glasses and bottles. And Robert, not having learned from your previous two gentle reminders to keep his hands to himself, reached out again, this time giving your backside a pinch. The time between your surprised shriek and Javi getting off his stool, wrapping his fist around the collar of Robert’s shirt, was miniscule.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” Javi growled, yanking on Robert’s shirt. The man, already unstable, stumbled backwards but not to the floor.

The one benefit of your past relationship – and working in the bar – was that you’d learned rather quickly how to de-escalate drunk, testosterone-ridden men. But instead of going to Robert, you went toward Javi, pushing on his arm. “Peña, stop.”

“Get off me, bitch,” Robert slurred at Javier.

Javi’s focus, which had only momentarily been on you, almost annoyed that you were telling him to stop, was now back on Robert. “How many times she have to tell ya’ to stop, fuckin’ creep?” Javi maintained he still did the right thing. If the situation had presented itself again, he would’ve done the same exact thing. Cocked his fist back in the same way. Made contact with Robert’s nose the same way. And stood over him the same way as Robert clutched at his bloodied, broken nose while now on the floor. “If I ever see you touch a woman here ever again…”

“Javier!”

His eyes shot over to you, finding pure fury. You stepped in front of him and pushed him back with all your might. He only went back a step, which you figured was more due to his cooperation than your strength.

“Get out of here, Peña!” You yelled right at him, but instead of getting a move on, he went to open his mouth to rebut. “Go home, Javi!”

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Something was up with Javi. You’d noticed it first after he’d turned down your blowjob offer after getting the Halloween decorations from the attic. He had never turned down a blowjob before. Usually it was a matter of how quickly you could get your mouth open. And just when you might’ve started to think that his attraction to you was waning, he’d give you the most mind-shattering orgasm. Which begged the question: what was up with Javier Peña?

It also struck you as odd that although he didn’t stop going to The Tack Room completely, you’d made an observation that he no longer came on the nights Chucho came around. You’d still see him at your house after work, but he didn’t show up at the bar to hang out when his dad also happened to be there. Which maybe was for the better considering Javier fucking Peña decked one of your largest tippers tonight. And had Chucho seen his son do that, you had the notion that he might just ship Javi back to Colombia, free of charge to Uncle Sam. And as if just punching the guy wasn’t bad enough, Robert’s face was busted. Lip split, nose broken. Blood poured from new holes Javi had punched into his face.

You’d told him to get out of there. To go home. But you knew you’d see him outside your house that night. Would’ve bet your life’s savings on it, and would’ve doubled it because when you pulled up that night, Javi was sitting on the porch step – the same place you’d seen him that first day with your daughter. As soon as you threw the car in park on the driveway, he was standing up, brushing his palms on the back of his pants. Time had visibly calmed him down but it had only riled you up.

“What the fuck were you thinking?! Do you know how much that guy tips me?!”

Javier approached you, holding up his hands in front of his chest. “I’m sorry,”

“Do you know how much he tips me?!”

Whatever calmness time had given Javi, you were managing to pull him out of it. Your elevated level… not to mention your apparent biggest qualm being how much money you were going to lose out on… brought him to a spot he wasn’t prepared to go. At least, not with you.

“You let him touch you so he’ll tip you better?” Javi pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and sifted through it until he produced a hundred dollar bill, “if money’s what you want, I’ll put it on your dresser before we fuck!”

“Fuck you, Javi!

“Fuck me?! I defended you and the only person you got mad at was me! How about the fucker that was grabbing your ass all night?”

You got up in his face, ready and way too willing to continue this argument. Had you just taken a moment… a millisecond… to think, you probably would’ve chosen a different path. “How do you know I didn’t want him grabbing my ass?”

There was a chance steam was coming out of Javi’s ears at this point. If you’d been a medical professional, you might’ve asked that he sit down, put his head between his knees, and take a few deep breaths. But you were not a medical professional, you were just pissed. And that last statement? After the steam had fully evacuated Javi’s ears, he scrubbed his hands over his face and shook his head.

“Okay,” he kept his fingers over his mouth and shook his head again. “Then go fuck that guy. I can’t do this anymore,”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You’d wanted a fight. Maybe some hot, angry sex. But you didn’t want him to back off completely. And judging by everything you knew about him, you didn’t think he’d back off so easily. “It’s just sex. Who cares if I get it from you or someone else?” Even that sounded a little meaner than you hoped it would.

Javier shook his head and let his arms drop back down to his sides, emphatically. “‘cause I’m not gettin’ it from anyone else,”

“That’s not my problem,”

“Yes it is,” he insisted and glared at you. “I’m stickin’ up for you. And I’m decorating your house for Halloween. And I’m fuckin’ jealous you’re spending next weekend with your ex.”

A smile crept over your face, and though you did your best to hide it – to not let Javi think you weren’t taking him seriously – you knew he’d pick up on it. It was kind of endearing that Mr. Famous Playboy was jealous.

He tilted his head to the side, “don’t look at me like that,” he begged.

But you continued to. In fact, you let your smile widen as you closed the gap and pressed your hands against his stomach.

“Quit it,”

You giggled and curled your fingers into the fabric of his shirt. “You wanna come inside?”

He wrapped his arm around your waist and held you close. Fingers dragged absent designs at your lower back. “Only if you promise me something,” an earnest smile stretched over his lips. “Never sleep with that guy,”

“What guy?” You beamed.

“Good girl,” he patted your ass and turned on his heels with you.

You unlocked the front door as quickly as your shaky fingers would allow. Maybe angry sex wouldn’t be happening tonight, but something potentially even better would be. Make up sex. It was unmarked territory with Javi. Up until now, there wasn’t anything to make up for. Up until now, outside of the ‘him being inside you’ part, the sex hadn’t been very personal. He’d made sure of that.

But now he was up in front of you and it felt so much different than all the other times. You’d found yourself cornered up against the wall in your entryway, Javi standing right in front of you. His knee had made a spot for itself in between your legs but his hands… they’d never been so gentle before. Slow hands. At one time they brushed over your skin without acknowledging the scars, marks, and blemishes that made up the entirety of you. But this time… they floated over skin with the lightest of touches, taking their time in exploring the expanse of you. Even the way he kissed you with the caution and hesitancy of someone not as sure of themselves. There was the fleeting thought that he’d remember who he was – what his intent was – and he’d pick up to the ravaging he was known for. Though he never did. Not tonight. Not as he cupped his hands around either side of your neck and used his gentle hold on it to lead you away from the wall and toward your bedroom. Not as his forward momentum was only thwarted when the back of your legs hit your mattress and he leaned his body over you, crawling forward to work you further up the bed. Not even when he’d gotten you fully reclined, with his knees straddling your legs, and started to help you undress. Fabric peeled from your body with the same amount of care painters took to canvas… sculptors to marble.

Shirt discarded to the side in an instant and his lips to your chest the next. Soft kisses traced your clavicle until his mouth met the notch at the base of your neck, then carried over across the other. Your hands migrated up over his shoulders and to the hair at the nape of his neck with gentle tugs. Maybe that’d get him to pick things up.

But he was not to be riled. Even the act of you reaching behind your back and unclasping your bra was met with little acceleration. Javier simply reached up and pulled the now useless garment away from your body. Put his lips in its place. Let his tongue roll over your nipple until it pebbled in his mouth. And you pulled on the ends of his hair again, this time with more force until he relented and lifted his head. Stared at you with hooded, confused eyes.

“What?”

“What’re you doing?”

Javi looked down at your breasts and took a deep breath before he looked back up at you, “what?”

“There’s suspiciously no fingers, tongue, or dick between my legs,”

“M’getting you ready for me. I always do that,” he bowed his head and pressed his lips back to your chest, but when you pulled on his hair again for his focus, he groaned. “What?”

“You don’t need to. I’ve been wet since you punched that guy in the face,”

Javier’s jaw dropped. His eyes widened. Pure surprise raced through him. “You yelled at me for that and your fuckin’ pussy’s drippin’?!”

“Okay,” you positioned your hands on his chest and pushed against him, “you don’t have to be crass.” The distance you’d put between you by pushing on his chest was quickly made up for when you curled your fingers into the fabric of his shirt and pulled him back toward you. “Don’t go slow,”

Your hands tucked lower beneath the hem of his shirt, nudging it upwards until your fingers met his chest and he was all but forced to take it off completely. It soon joined yours at the end of the bed. But when your hands went for his belt, he snatched them away and lifted them above your head. You stared up at him, smirking, when he dropped his weight to you and pinned wrists down.

“Don’t be impatient. Let me take my time,” he pecked your lips and grinned when he pulled back and you jut your bottom lip out in a pout. “Put that lip away,” he ducked his head into the side of your neck and bit into your skin. “Just let me make you feel good,”

“You can do that without going so slow,”

Javi pushed himself up and sat back on his knees. Skilled fingers worked on the button and zipper of your jeans, “keep runnin’ your mouth and you’re not gonna get anything.”

“Peña–”

“Shhh, querida. Just take it easy,”

Convinced you would be – at least for a little while – he stripped you out of your jeans. As he continued on, leaning back over you and nudging the fabric of your underwear to the side so he could feel the proof of what you’d already told him, you realized the slow progress wasn’t as snail-like as you’d first complained about. It wasn’t that it was slow as much as it was intentional. For the first time in the two months you’d had this routine, it was settling in that this was Javier acting on something other than animal autopilot.

His lips came back to yours and took you into a searing kiss. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip. Tongue searched for entrance into your mouth, undeterred. Fingers found the opening they were looking for, too. Pushed into the tightness of your core and didn’t stop their forward motion until they were down to the last knuckle. Your jaw dropped, eyes fluttered open to find Javi’s already in a hungry stare at you. His mouth hung open over yours, sharing breaths as he curled his fingers inside you and brushed the tips against your gspot. A coo left your body, and the smirk that crossed over Javi’s face was undeniable. He had you right where he wanted you.

“Told you I’d make you feel good,”

You spread your legs further apart to give him as much free, open space as possible. Catching his lips for another kiss, the unhurried pace of his mouth and fingers was going to have you spiraling far quicker than you’d like to admit. Tongues lapped and rolled against each other in a battle both wanted to win but would gladly lose. And then he brushed his thumb over your clit, and you all but thought that was going to be your undoing. The way your legs flinched together around his hand, and the way every muscle in your body seemed to flex at once. Then, for better or worse, Javi eased his fingers out of you. Kept his eyes on you for any sign of too much discomfort, of which he only clocked a little. He backed off the bed until he was able to stand at the foot of it and rid himself of his jeans, all too thankful for the vision of you snaking your hand down your body. Fingers drifted past your breasts, to your stomach, and beneath the lace of your underwear to slide the flimsy fabric off your body. It caught on one of your ankles but you hardly paid it any attention; choosing to replace your fingers on your clit and massage yourself, equally thankful for the vision Javier was giving you. Of his hand wrapped around his shaft, jerking himself off with long, steady strokes. The sinewy muscles of his chest, shoulder, and bicep strained against his skin, and knelt back on the bed again. He used his unoccupied hand to free your ankle from your lacy underwear.

Removing your fingers from your clit, you stretched your body out beneath him, grinning like a mad fool for the sight of him above you. For the way his sheer size and presence made you feel small; made for him to take at his whim. He released his member as he was now fully hard. The vein that ran along the underside of his length more prominent than before, and he lowered himself until the tops of his thighs were pressed against the backs of yours. His cock rest against your belly. From base to tip, he measured up to your belly button. A fact that was not lost on you as he held it in place as if to drive that point home.

“Camera,”

You flicked your glassy eyes up to his face, “what?”

“Where’s the camera?”

You swallowed, chest swelling with heat. You obliged, even if just to avoid his piercing gaze, and outstretched your arm toward the nightstand. He seemed to understand and bent over to carry on the plight. Though you watched carefully as he took the Polaroid out of the drawer and then quickly returned to his spot on his knees between your legs. Javi angled the camera downward, jaw slackening as he focused on the image in the viewfinder: Your breasts full and resting free all the way down to where your waists met. His length on full display for reference against your body.

He snapped the photo and handed the grayed out picture to you. It was in your hands for just a second before he dipped his hips and sheathed himself inside your core. His eyebrows furrowed together and with the little coordination he had left in him, he set the camera down on the bed beside you.

“Javi,” you moaned out. It floated into nothingness in the space between you.

A groan released from his chest and he lowered himself to you, chest pressed to yours and his hands cupped together on top of your head, cradling you there beneath him. “Jesus Christ, you always feel so good,”

You grazed your teeth along his jaw until he lowered his head a little bit more, making it conducive for you to kiss him again. His hips began their slow thrusts forward. Each one only pulling himself out halfway before burying himself back in to the hilt. Little puffs of breath escaped your lungs each time he filled you back up.

“So big,” you whispered into his lips. The next thrust had his tip pressing against your cervix and you pressed your head further into the pillow, turning it to the side to catch your breath. His mouth went for your neck at first exposure. “You fill me up so good,”

The continued closeness of his hips on yours meant the friction against your clit was pretty much nonstop. Each pass of his body strung you higher and higher, and in an attempt to ground yourself, you reached up to curl your arms around Javier’s shoulders. The photo you hadn’t even bothered to look at yet discarded on the bed. But he all too quickly robbed you of that opportunity, and gathered both of your wrists in one of his large, strong hands. You whimpered at the lack of contact, but it then turned into a delighted hum when he lifted your hands up above your head and kept them pinned in place with his strong grasp.

“Worth the wait?” He chuckled.

You imagined the expression on your face showed pure bliss. Your pulse had already begun to pound, feeling it in your cheeks, ears, temples. Lips swollen and begging to be kissed. “Fuck me, Javi,”

He smiled to himself, your eyes having drifted shut. There was one particularly hard and deep thrust before there was nothing at all. His hand no longer on your wrists. Chest and stomach no longer against yours. He wasn’t even inside you anymore. And that had you opening your eyes, whimpering, reaching blindly for him until you realized he’d sat back on his knees to get you in a different position. Limp for him to maneuver however he pleased, you shrieked when he wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you back into him. Then taking one of your ankles, he crossed it in front of his body until your lower half was twisted to the side, legs pressed flush together. Contorted like this, your upper half was still mostly in the position it had been in before, just a little more turned to accommodate for the twisted angle of your spine and hips.

Javi grabbed onto your ass and tugged it gently to give himself a better view when he sunk his length back into you. You winced and let out a sharp cry when he pushed himself balls deep; your body struggling to acclimate to his full size at this angle. Through he reached for the camera again, his eyes never left your face.

“Y’alright?” he murmured, winding the camera up.

“Too big,” you panted out, trying to relax yourself around him.

He held the camera up and took another picture. This one he didn’t even bother removing after it printed. Just set the whole thing back down on the bed. “You can do it, querida,” he grinned and set his hands back on your ass, using the leverage to rock himself in and out of you slowly. He could feel your body fighting him still, but just as he was about to say the words, your instinct beat him to it. Your fingers pressed between your legs and began rubbing your clit. It moderately helped. It being slightly easier for him to push into you, “atta girl.”

“Javi,” you whined and pulled your hand away from your clit, moving it to instead wrap it around his wrist. “Javi,”

“Tell me,”

You swallowed harshly, fingernails digging into his skin, “this is no good for–”

But he was already pulling out of you and grabbing your ankle before you could finish. He placed your leg over his shoulder as he bent back down toward you. Both his hands planted on the mattress by your shoulders. He pushed back into you and immediately caught the moan it pulled.

“Better,” you smiled breathlessly and returned your hand to your clit to match the steady pace he set. “Good. So good,”

“God, you’re just…” Javi’s breath caught in his throat and the muscles in his stomach flexed, “so fuckin’ tight.”

You reached up for him until he obliged and leaned in closer to you. It nudged him deeper inside you and kept him there. “Come inside me,”

He shook his head and moved one hand from the bed to your neck; fingers loose. “Not before you,”

“Please. Javi, please,” you let out a needy moan and tilted your head back against the pillow, elongating your neck.

Javi growled and curled his fingers against your neck, grip tightening as he fought with himself whether to listen to you or not. Truthfully, he was hanging on by a goddamn thread. It wasn’t that he wasn’t close. It was that he didn’t want to get in the habit of coming first.

“Javi,” you begged.

“Are you close?”

“Yes. Please,” you purposefully squeezed yourself around him, pulling his shaft deeper. “Just want to feel all of it inside me first,”

He wanted to think about it while he had the chance. While he could hold out. But then your body fluttered involuntarily around him and his heart almost stopped. His hips stuttered, he bit back a deep, guttural moan, and then not being able to stop it if he tried, he came, rope after rope of his spend coating your walls.

“Fuck,” he muttered, feeling his member twitch inside of you. And normally, he’d be able to catch his breath. Take a minute and pull out of you. But now you were writhing beneath him, grabbing at the sheets and white-knuckling them. Though normally his body would prepare to wind down, there was only one thing he wanted now, and he’d do anything to get it. He laid his weight on top of you, his head beside yours, mouth pressed to your ear, “come all over me, querida. Let me feel you squeeze me.”

Your body began to tremble and a whimper tore through your chest.

“Show me what a good girl you are. Give it all to me,”

Clutching on to him with all your might, your arms wrapped around his rib cage, you hung on for dear life as your orgasm ripped through you. Your thighs flinched tighter to his hips. Silent pleas that he’d stay deep inside you. And you buried your face into the base of his neck, muffling the scream that came from deep within.

Throughout it all, Javi keep his soft, filthy whispers in your ear. Talked you through the entirety of your climax until you were a breathless, sweaty heap laying limp beneath him. And even then, he kept himself right where he was, lips at your ear; his hand cupped around your waist with fingertips drawing light circles on the small of your back.

“Atta girl, querida,” he pecked your neck, taking deep breaths so you’d try to align your breathing to his. “That’s my good girl,”

That had you moving again. Your hands gripped into his side with a little more purpose. Lips laid tender kisses to his shoulder. He lifted his head and kissed you intently. Slowly. Happy to take his time here, even as his member grew softer inside you.

“Can I take another picture of you?” He whispered and waited for you to nod. Only then did he pull out of you, eyes locked onto your core. His fingers searched the bed until they found the camera again. “Turn over for me,” he smiled when you immediately stirred to obey, “chest down, ass up.”

You shook your head and let out a quick giggle, “pervert.” Yet still did as you were told. Turned over on the bed and kept your chest pressed against the mattress with your back end higher than the rest of your body.

Javi removed the previous photo from the camera – the one of you on your side, your body seductively twisted and contorted for him. He wound the camera and then held it up to his eye with one hand. Then, using the other he smacked your ass once before taking it in a firm grip and pulled your cheek to the side. “Let me see it,”

“Hmm?” You turned your head to the side.

“Let me see it. Push it out,”

Your face grew warmer at his request. Yet again, you didn’t take a second to think before obeying him. Wanting absolutely nothing more than to keep hearing him say good girl, you clenched your muscles until you could feel the mixture of yours and his come seeping out of you. The sound of the Polaroid capturing the moment came next.

“Javi,” you moaned. The feeling of his come dripping down you, stirring you up all over again.

But his hand was on you next. Two fingers started at your swollen clit and worked their way up your slit to gather the come you’d pushed out. And when he pushed it back into your spent hole, you let out another exasperated moan. “I know,” he whispered and playfully thrust his fingers into you, pushing his come back inside, deep.

Only once he pulled them out, did you turn over and flop back down to your back. He was crawling up to lay beside you, having collected the three photos he’d taken of you tonight. And you’d curled into his side, head resting on his chest as he showed them off to you, the last of which still developing and growing clearer and raunchier with each passing second. Just the sight of it… and knowing it was you… with his come… you buried your face in his chest nervously.

Javier laughed and kissed the top of your head. He set the pictures down beside him and used his now free hands to wrap around you, holding you close. “Feel good?”

You nodded against his chest, “feel great.”

He smiled and took a deep breath which he held, thinking. It stirred you enough to look up at him, finding him contemplative. But your gaze was unwavering and he decided to bite the bullet. “You know, I never see you when the sun’s up,”

“I’m busy when the sun’s up,”

Javi nodded. “Maybe I can take you out sometime. During the day,”

You rolled over onto your back, “you know I can’t next weekend.”

“Another weekend, then.”

What came next was a cruel, cruel turn of events because you wanted to give him a resounding yes. A sure thing. An absolute. But before you could answer, the doorbell chimed, reverberating noise through your house. You and Javi both looked at the bedroom door as if that’d tell you everything you needed to know about the person at the front door. But after a second, the doorbell rang again, and this time, Javi slid his arm out from underneath you. He was halfway up before you pulled on his arm.

“Stay here,” you rose out of bed and walked to the small closet, pulling from it a thin cotton robe. Javi wondered what that garment would do in terms of concealing your body, but you were out of the room too quickly for him to ask, and pulled the bedroom door shut behind you.

Trapped behind a door, Javi strained his ears for any information to clue him in on who was there. He wondered if it was your ex. And if it was, Javi wondered if he’d amble out of your room and sidle up beside you. That thought had him fully out of bed and pulling his pants up his legs again. But he soon realized it wasn’t. No, because he heard the muñequita’s voice ring through the walls and he figured it was your mom at the door.

Javi looked at the clock on your nightstand when he figured he should probably hide the photos he’d taken tonight with the rest that you’d previously taken of him. And he kept staring at the clock, wondering when you’d come back to him. Wondered if he should just walk out without a care of who was there to see him. Ultimately he didn’t though. Just as you’d done as he asked tonight, he did as you asked. Sat at the edge of the bed and waited until you finally came back.

The bedroom door creaked open and you slipped inside, taking the utmost care to close the door so slowly that virtually no noise came from it. Javi stood as you neared him again and pressed your hands to his chest.

“I forgot her dad’s coming over tomorrow morning. It’s his day with her,”

Javi nodded, trying to be as understanding as possible. “I didn’t know he got any days with her,”

You nodded, “be my guest to take that up with the judge.”

He sensed you weren’t thrilled at all with the situation, and the only thing he knew to do in this moment other than go full DEA, was to try to comfort you. He lifted his hand and cupped it over the back of your head, guiding you into him. Scritching through your hair, he kissed the top of your head and let the silence wash over you both.

But you tilted up and set your chin down against his chest, “you wanna stay tonight?”

Javi pursed his lips and cupped his hands over your cheeks. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,”

“I don’t know if coming inside me is a good idea but you do it anyway.”

Got him.

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

By the time Javi woke the next morning, you were already out of bed. Squinting through the sunlight that filtered in from the window, he glanced at the clock on the nightstand and noted it wasn’t that he was rising late, but you had risen early. And judging by your slightly elevated voice elsewhere in the house, he figured you were running around, trying to get the muñequita ready before her dad showed up to scoop her away.

Though he’d been kept in the bedroom last night, he decided that didn’t carry over into the daylight. Searching the floor for his shirt, he picked it up and slid it back over his shoulders. He did up the buttons and gave himself a passing glance in the mirror on his way out of the room. The muñequita’s voice grew louder as he ambled down the hallway, and he turned the corner for the kitchen, where he came face to face with her sitting at the table. You stood behind her, fighting with her fidgeting to tie her hair up in pigtails.

“Hey!”

You looked up and followed the direction of her outstretched arm to find Javi at the end of it, in the threshold. He was clothed at least, but you’d been hoping he’d stay out of sight until it was just the two of you in the house again.

“Hey muñequita,” he strode into the kitchen and reached out to take her hand. He served to keep her still enough so you could finish tying her hair up.

“Why are you in our house?”

Javier opened his mouth but looked back up at you in the same moment, finding that your expression was much less chill than his was. He nodded subtly, quiet submission to you knowing the muñequita was still awaiting an answer.

“Go get your shoes on. Your dad’s gonna be here soon,”

Without argument, she hopped off the chair and ran out of the kitchen. Her little feet padding their way down the wood floor until she reached her bedroom door and nudged it open with a creak. But your eyes were back on Javi in an instant, frustration rising. “What the fuck, Peña?”

He smirked and side stepped you, having locked on to the drip coffee pot on the counter, full and ready to be consumed. “What?” He opened the cabinets one by one before he found the one with coffee cups and pulled one out for himself. Even took his damn sweet time filling it up with black coffee before he turned back around and saw you staring at him. Unimpressed. Hip cocked out to the side with your hand on it. “Sorry, didn’t know I was some sex object you kept locked away in your room,”

“Not in front of her,”

“She was happy to see me,”

“She’s five! She doesn’t know what she is,” you scrubbed your hands over your face. “She’s my kid. You don’t get to make any decisions where it concerns her, okay? On the topic of us, I get to decide how and when she learns about it.”

“Come on, it’s–”

“Okay?”

He nodded, “okay.”

That was all you let him have before you crossed in front of him and continued down the hall in the direction of your daughter’s room. It gave Javier time to look around the kitchen; at all the little things that made this your well lived in home. The chipping paint on the drawers. The cracked floor tile by the fridge. The way a few of the cabinet doors hung slanted and off kilter, creating uneven lines in between them. The sorts of things you would’ve added to a list for the man in your life had you had one. And it only made him think about if there had been another man between your ex and him filling that void. He hoped not, if only because that man did a piss poor job at fixing things around here.

And the attention he was giving that thought had him failing to fully acknowledge the knock on the door. Half conscious of it, he’d thought it was the muñequita tapping her fist along the wall as she came down the hallway. But then the knock happened again and it didn’t result in either of you joining him in the kitchen. Javi set his coffee cup down on the counter and thought about calling out to you, but then the knocking happened for a third time. This time accompanied with a man’s voice shouting a slur toward you and well… if you’d known anything about Javi’s time in Colombia, it was that he hardly ever played nicely and he wasn’t about to start now.

He pulled open the front door, making sure his shoulders and hips were square to the man standing on the other side of it. A undoubtedly threatening stance. And it was received that way when the man he came to understand was your baby daddy eyed him up and down. Disgust and anger, and something else, rising in his face.

“Who the fuck are you?” He spat, trying to look over Javi’s shoulder and into the house.

“Let’s call me a new friend,”

He laughed incredulously. “Yeah, I’m sure. Slut doesn’t know how to keep her legs closed,”

Here, there was little thought. It was an instinct that long lived in Javier. Before Colombia, he hadn’t been able to save his mother from hurt and pain. Couldn’t save Lorraine from (in fact had been the direct cause of it), and so in Colombia he honed the skill he now carried with him every day. Practiced it until it was second nature… with Helena… Elisa…

Javi took one giant step forward through the threshold; one hand gripping the wrist of the other man, and Javi’s other hand at his shoulder. Turning his body and using it as the perfect amount of leverage to incapacitate almost any threat, he pressed forward until the asshole in front of him now had his cheek squished against the rough stucco wall of the house. Javi took his hand from his shoulder and readjusted until his forearm pressed against his upper back, rendering your baby daddy immobile.

Javier took another step forward, his mouth at the ear of the man you’d once called a lover, and now called him something else. And though he fought, Javi held his ground. “If you say one bad thing about her, I will fuck you up. She’s gotta be nice to you ‘cause you share a daughter. But I don’t. I will end you,”

“Fuck you!”

Javi pressed harder on his back knowing once he let up, the other man would have the prickled imprints of the stucco on his skin. “And if the kid comes home with stories of things you said about her mom, I will fucking find you and I will fucking kill you.”

“Javi?”

Your voice called out from within the house and Javi took one giant step back, creating space between him and the man you were about to hand your child off to. The muñequita came to the door, a backpack nearly the size of her on her back, and reached out idly toward her dad. He clutched her hand, all but dragging her off the porch with a mention that he’d drop her back off tonight. But he was gone in seconds and yet you and Javi still stood on the porch – him watching the car peel out of the driveway, and you watching him. Scoping him out for what might’ve gone down.

“What happened?”

“Nothin’,” he shook his head and carried on back into the house.

“Peña?” You followed him back into the kitchen. He so coolly went back to the counter to retrieve his coffee, but you knew something was up. Your ex had never looked so riled… or flaunting skin that matched the stucco siding of your home.

“We had a chat, man to man. I think he’ll be on better behavior moving forward.”

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goddess-evelle · 1 year

Text

Obsessed

Miguel O’hara x latin! nurse wifey

Warnings: Riding, toxic-ish behavior (but not really), sexual references, Miguel is obsessed with you. Grinding, sex p in v. kinda sub Miguel, dom reader ( not too explicitly said)

A/N: There may be some errors. But trustttttt the Spanish is right. Enjoy!

You NEED to read the dialoges with attitude.

Miguel O’hara is a selfish man. This may seem like a surprise to many, since he has given his life to make sure everything goes canonically, but they had never seen the part that he shows you. Therefore, he’ll admit that when it comes to you; he is simply a selfish man, a selfish man that would rather have you all to himself. So, yes, he proudly shows off his wedding ring to anyone that is willing to look, but he doesn’t give any information of you. Because why would he ever give other men a reason to think about you? He only has eyes for you, so he should be the only one looking at you. Don’t get him wrong, he is not an extremely possessive man, he just doesn’t want to share you with the other spider-man. He doesn’t want to have to fight for your time because you are helping other spiders. So, he keeps himself quiet when his injuries make him want to curl into himself in pain, because why would he go to the medics when he has you waiting for him at home. His own little nurse that would make him feel better.

Completely different from what the spiders see when he is working. They see a serious man that takes his job extremely seriously, but at home? He is just a clingy guy that will do anything for you to let him fuck you. Even if it means picking up an extra fight to have you treating his wounds. However, he cannot let you know about this because you will beat his ass, and he’d be damned if he didn’t love a woman that could handle him. He always remembers the first time you met. He thought you were just another damsel in distress, and as he got closer to help; he was the one that ended up with his legs in the air at the sudden throw you gave him to protect yourself. It was then that he saw the supposed aggressor with a black eye. From then on, he did not leave you alone asking you out to different places to eat, he would always pay of course (he wanted to flex, never let you pay once).

Here he stands in front of you with a few pieces broken of his suit; eyes avoiding yours as you stare at the blood dripping to his full lips. He KNOWS what is gonna happen next, and YES he will just stand there and take it. Your hand falls to his ear giving him a yank to bow him to your eye level.

Damn this motherfucking tall stupid idiot!

“¿Cuántas veces te he dicho que tengas más cuidado peleando?”

“How many times do I have to tell you to be careful when you fight?”

You growl next to his face, but his eyes only look at you as if you are holding the moon in your hands. Your eyes are full of rage.

“Como un nene chiquito, haciendo lo que te dicen que no hagas.”

“Like a little kid doing exactly what I tell you not to do.”

You push him down to the couch as you gather everything you need to help with his wounds. He knows that despite your angry demeanor, you are only worried about him. Rightfully so, with the way his nose is bruising, his bleeding arm is starting to go numb. You climb on his lap, hands rushing to cup his face and see the damage. You grab a wet wipe to get the blood off his face; watching carefully for if he complains (a new row of insults bubbling in your head). Once that is done, and not happy with the way he is behaving, you press a cold wet towel directly on his nose to stop the swelling. He jolts at the sudden cool feeling.

“Es que te lo digo que tengas cuidado y no, te gusta hacer lo que te da la gana”

“I always tell you to be careful and you don’t listen, always doing whatever you want.”

You finally finish patching up his nose with a pretty white fabric that will reduce the swelling, and you hate to admit how damn handsome your husband looks with his puppy eyes praying a silent apology. You know exactly what he is waiting for. He slowly licks his lips while staring into yours, and you comply. Moving closer to give him a well-deserved kiss. The kiss becomes erotic quickly as he overtakes your mouth by sucking on your tongue. The action makes you moan as his hands are firmly on your waist. Before he can get any more daring, you move away.

“Mami, no seas así, dame un poquito más”

“Mami, don’t be like that, give me a little more” His Deep voice sounds from your neck as he graces the tip of his nose carefully down the column of it inhaling your scent. The action causes to heat pool at your panties, and you are grateful that you are only wearing one of his huge shirts and panties because it will be soooo much easier later when you two actually fuck. You move forwards as if you are going to continue the kiss, and he is so distracted that he doesn’t even notice the way your hand is now on the slash on his arm. Just as you are about to kiss his lips you press your hand into his cut making him groan. It is a little evil, but at the same time you want to see how deep it is. As you continue to check that the cut isn’t really too deep; you move to accommodate yourself on his lap. Let me clarify, you accommodate yourself so that his hard cock lays right in between your pussy. You hum as you start to treat his cut. Hips moving in time with your humming as you grind your clit against his cock. His head rolls back, any pain completely forgotten as he feels your pussy soak through his suit. Fuck he loves that he isn’t wearing any underwear, and he loves even more that he just presses a button to be completely naked. The suit retracts and his cock dangles dripping against his left leg. His cock is simply too big, too thick, too heavy to stand perfectly up. You take more time than needed to enjoy the way the head of his cock teases your clit. Eventually you want to feel the real thing and you take his hand to kiss his knuckles and move his hand to your panties. He takes the hint and snaps them off you.

You don’t waste a single second before you are riding him to death. The way you took him deep with no prep surprises him. (he usually has to prep you A LOT) You whine at the sudden stretch, but you don’t stop as you continue riding him. He gets concerned for a second, he has never seen you ride him this hard.

“Mami, dale s-s suave ah-”

“Mami, go s-s-slow ah-” His hands move to hold your hips, because truly he needs a second to breathe before he comes a little too quickly. You are faster than him holding his hands with yours and putting them under your shirt so that he can play with your tits. You meet a little resistance as he tries to let go to guide you into riding him slower, but you don’t let his hands go.

“P-por favor, mas suave. Perdóname. No- No- No lo vuelvo ah ah hacer, tendré más c-cuidado”

“P-please slow down. I’m sorry. Ah ah I won’t do it again. I’ll be more c-careful.” He mumbles unintelligible. You continue to ride him through his forceful orgasm, as you enjoy your own climax. Tears streaming down his face by the time he finally cums inside of you. You bend down to kiss him, finally letting go of his hands, and he returns the kiss eagerly. A string of saliva unites you as you kiss his forehead.

“Tienes que tener más cuidado, mi amor.”

“My love, you have to be more careful.” You share whispered “I love you’s” before taking a sweet bath.

Feedback is appreciated.

#miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel o hara #spider man 2099 #atsv miguel

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ghostheartfelt · 1 year

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*:･｡☆ tags: damsel in distress!reader, reader will have a father daughter relationship with dutch, slowburn romance, no use of y/n, reader is nicknamed "Miracle" once she settles in with the gang. THIS IS SET BEFORE THE FLEE OF BLACKWATER.

*:･｡☆ warnings: mentions of kidnapping/attempts of kidnapping, blood and gore (mostly js people gettin shot n shit 🙏🏼 it's rdr afterall.) period typical undertones of sexism. canon typical violence. mentions of animal abuse/neglect

〔☆〕 desc: during a little break at the saloon, you're interrupted by an O'Driscoll who presses a gun to your back and forces you out of the saloon for a kidnapping. the Van Der Linde group comes to your rescue.

.. ☆ next part | masterlist (tbe)

—✩ A WOLF’S BANE P. ⅰ ✩—

word count — 2.3k

a/n: hey! this is part one of my arthur morgan x fem!reader slowburn series. i know it starts off a little funky, but i promise you’re in for a treat!! feedback/ideas are greatly appreciated! 🤭🪭 this part is mostly focused on the reader developing relationships with the other members of the gang. (p.s i promise reader isn’t a mary sue 😭 this is just for build up!)

Your hands stay busy loading and spinning the barrel of your duel Widowmakers. They were beautifully customized, and you just purchased a brand new cylinder from the gunsmith. There were elk carvings on the wood handle—your holsters having the same stitching as they rest on your waist under your coat—and freshly polished metals.

You were quietly listening in on the discussions that swarmed at every angle in the Saloon. You’d traveled from Strawberry to Valentine to receive your prescription from Doctor Calloway.

Smithfield has tried a fair amount to ask you out for a dinner, or a horseback ride to Saint Denis, and as much as you loved horseback riding, you declined kindly.

He mailed you a letter asking that you come to his office to obtain it. You caught a stagecoach and paid five dollars for the ride, then took yourself to the saloon first for a quick lamb heart stew, which was something you always made sure to grab upon visiting Valentine, making you a familiar customer with the owner, Mr. Smithfield.

As you stood and adjusted your skirt while stuffing your revolver into its holster that stayed hidden under your coat, a barrel of a gun pressed against your back. Your eyes shot open and you refused to turn your head to see who your threat was.

The man stunk of alcohol, cigarettes, and pure grime, and the scent only grew stronger as you felt his face press against your hair to whisper in your ear.

“Act natural, pretty thing.”

His body closed in against your back with his hip bones digging into your waist. He wasn’t very tall, nor muscular, perhaps about five foot six.

“Do you always greet a pretty woman like this?” You hiss quietly as he twists the gun into your back, guiding you out. He makes sure to snatche your purse from off the table you were seated at—which you didn’t mind too much since you were struggling financially with only about thirty dollars to your name—you didn’t even get to pay your tab off. You hoped Smithfield would understand.

“Shut up and move, girl.” He rejoined.

Undoubtedly, your heart raced in your chest as you both stepped out of the Saloon. There’s another stagecoach with a few other men seated, causing your eyes to widen. This is a kidnapping, not a robbery, you thought, and that was when sweat began to head down from your scalp.

“She’s a good one, Welts!” one snorted. He had crooked and several missing teeth, a lazy eye, and his brown hair was greasy, and he just looked downright disgusting.

“O’Driscoll will be real happy!”

That was when you froze in your place as you were turned around and patted down for any extra goods; the male in front of you had managed to find a pearl necklace from the depths of your dress pocket, and you scrambled to try and grab it from him.

“Please, don’t take that, take anything else.” You were surprised to find yourself pleading to this man. To an O’Driscoll.

Welt’s head tilted and he let out a loud laugh before he took his revolver, slamming the barrel and cylinder rough against your cheekbone, immediate pain and heat surged as it quickly began to swell, and your body twists, landing on the ground with your palms flat in the dirt below you.

You reach one of your hands—that had grains of tiny rocks stuck in your bleeding skin—up to touch your cheek, a quick feeling of regret causing you to yank your head away from the pain.

“You’re a scum!” you try to turn your head, yet he grabs a full fist of your hair and unsheathes his knife, cutting off a thick chunk of your locks. You gasped weakly.

The men above you bursted into laughter while instead tears stung your eyes. “Speak when spoken to, woman,” he grimaced. You feel for the hair he sliced, and your lip quivers. These were definitely Colm O’Driscoll’s men.

Welts gripped your upper arm, and pulled you onto your feet. Accidentally, you rip your dress from your feet getting caught in the fabric as you struggle to stand with the man swinging you around like a lasso.

You feel his revolver get pinned into your back once again as he taps the barrel against you, gesturing you to walk towards the coach. You hesitated, which he didn’t take kindly. You heard the hammer click, and that’s when you caught yourself walking.

“Hello, gentlemen!” an exuberant voice joins in, and you turn your head to look at the man. He was neatly shaven, besides just a bit of clean stubble along his chin. His hair seemed slicked back at the top, even with a black hat, and he was in a long-sleeved white and blue striped shirt, a black vest, and black slacks.

His boots were black with brown spurs. He had his hand on his belt, though not over his holsters that you think were home to dual revolvers. You were just about tired of seeing men with guns.

Guns. You thought. I’m as dumb as a rat—you shimmy your arm down to press against your waist, feeling for your Widowmakers. You felt the hardness with your wrist, playing it calm, and cool. Welts was just as dumb, if not more—he hasn’t even realized you were armed, not that you knew how to use them, anyway. Your hand drags away. Most likely, you wouldn’t be able to beat the man in a sharpshoot.

“Now, a little birdy told me you were being not so nice to this innocent woman, is that true?” The black-haired male, being passive aggressive, sends you kind eyes that leave you feeling skeptical.

You notice his friends.

One was in a low ponytail, and had a sombrero on his head, and the other had olive skin and a hat with a small feather in it’s band.

“She’s my wife, she’s drunk, and these men have offered to take us home. Go along with your business.” Welts snarled as he pushed your shins into the step of the stagecoach. Never in a million years would you even think to date or marry an O’Driscoll—especially not him.

His hair was greasy, and there was collected dirt behind his ears. With his gapped teeth, and his uncared for eyebrows. You wanted to murder the ratbag for laying his dirty fingers on you.

“You tellin’ me the little birdy is a liar?” the man asks, his tone lowering.

“Hell is your problem?” Welts’ eyebrows furrowed.

His gun against your back was starting to feel like it was forming a circular mark on your back from the muzzle.

“I surely don’t remember a time where I saw a loyal man pinning a gun to his wife’s back,” another one of the man’s friends appeared. He had darker skin, Native American features, and a braid running down his own back.

His arms were folded against his chest that was covered in a brown long-sleeved tunic.

“Do you know this man, miss?” His eyes drag to yours with a softer expression creasing his features.

Once you open your mouth to speak, you’re silenced with a quick shoulder shove forcing you into the coach.

“She does, now leave us be.” He sat himself down next to you. Your head turns to look at them as your face twists into fear.

There were five men; the black-haired one, the one with the braid, the male with the ponytail, the scarred Scottish man, and another male who was a bit taller and quieter. His hair was more brown, his face was scruffy, and he wore a black gamblers hat.

“Come on now, hold your horses, compadre!” The one with the ponytail waved his hand in the air, though the man standing in the front seat of the stagecoach flicked the reins against the hinds of both of the gray and black horses, causing them to squeal and chase out of Valentine.

Panic surged through you, raising your adrenaline. When you try to crane your head to see if the men decided to leave, your chest is pushed back against the seat by one of Welts’ companions. Suddenly, the one who’d exchanged you the soft look—which you now have come to believe was the leader—yelled out, and all the men followed his command. “Saddle up, boys, we got ourselves a couple’a maggots!”

You heard two, or three, or four, of them whistle a call to their horses and moments later, they were chasing down the stagecoach. You felt a tinge of hope, and trusted that these men would save you.

“Can these sons’a bitches go any faster?!” Welts hands gripped the seat the driver sat on with his head turned over his shoulder.

When the shooting began, you quickly ducked and let out a distressed noise. Bullets flew all around you, and you covered your ears. You looked up, and immediately the driver had a bullet pierce his skull. You screamed, some of the red paste splattering onto your face. The driver fell off the front of the coach, and you gasped as the wheels ran over the body, the lump making you wobble. You lift yourself up, and take a hold of the seats to stabilize yourself.

The horses stressed, unsure what to do, and you looked around frantically. Another one of the men attempted to cross over and take hold of the reins, but he received the same fate, instead his body leaned over yours, and you pushed it off the edge before it toppled on you.

“Girl!” One of the men yelled, catching your attention. “Do ya know how to drive that thing?!” His accent was thick, and his voice was deep with a slight rasp. You’d gotten a more clear look at his face now that it wasn’t half-covered with his hat. “I said, do ya know how to drive it?!” His horse sped up along the side of the coach, and you frantically nodded your head. You used to be a Stagecoach Taxi at fourteen. You just hoped you still had it in you.

You tore the fabric of the hem of your dress some more until the fabric stopped just above your knees, then hopped over before you’re pulled back by the neck; a man’s arm choking you and smashing both sides of your head as he squeezed his arm making you fall back onto the floor. “Stupid bitch,” the man huffed and grunted, shooting off a few rounds.

“Arthur, Arthur, no!” the leader yelled from behind. “You’ll risk shootin’ her! Put that gun down!”

He was right; the coach was teetering from side to side, and would be sure to tumble off the edge of a cliff if it were to get close enough.

They’d be sure to go off-road with the horses only knowing to go in one direction at the speed they were currently.

These horses were abused, whip welts covering both their hinds and backs, it was disgusting.

You sputtered out a few coughs as the man cut off your entire circulation, your fingers to pry at his arms and your nails scratch at his skin.

He drops you and you slump onto the floor. You hit your head on some metal, yet quickly recover. While the man is distracted, you throw your head at his pants and bite on his groin through the slacks, immediately, he lets out a yowl and accidentally pulls the trigger of his Litchfield Rifle as he falls off the carriage, which ricochets off a steel base, and strikes your shoulder.

A cry leaves your throat and you slap your hand over the wound. Blood seeps through the cloth of your ruffled top, but you swing yourself back over and take hold of the reins.

You feel your head pounding, but you pull back the reins and attempt to slow the horses down, though they don’t abide. The horses are panicked, unsure how to react.

“Don’t stop the coach!” the man with the feather in his hat, shooting over his shoulder.

”Well, what the hell do I do then?!” Your eyebrows furrow. “There’s more! They just keep comin’!” you turn your head at his words, and your eyes widen to see more O’Driscoll men trailing behind on coaches and horses.

“Jump on my horse!” The man with the striped shirt yells in your direction, and you look at him as if he’s crazy. “I’ll grab you, don’t worry about falling, but hurry it up!” His voice booms, going rasp.

“Now! Now!” He pulls back the reins of his horse, causing it to halt, and with a running start, you jump off the coach and onto his horse, his arm pulling you up as you almost fall off the horse’s hind to sit upright.

The horses to the coach attempt to stop at the edge of the cliff they ran too, though the coach pushes them over. You gasp, and turn your head as your hands grip the man’s jacket that was in front of you.

“Sorry for the inconvenience, sweetheart,” he clears his throat, and turns his horse around. His friends caught up, and their horses skidded to a stop.

“Dutch! What the hell was that for?” The male, who had directed you to not stop the stagecoach, his face was twisted with fury.

“Do you trust me, or not, son?” The man, who now is identified as Dutch, questions him, then elbows you lightly. “John Marston, he’s the hothead if you couldn’t tell, ain’t that right, boys?” He let out a humorous laugh. “Damn straight.” The one with the sombrero howls.

You had to keep yourself from passing out, which failed miserably. “You alright back there, miss?” He nudged your body again. Your eyes began to shut on you, and you slumped against the man’s back, then began to slide off the horse and onto the ground.

“Shit, shit!” Dutch took quick notice of your wounds. “Ain’t any of you tell me she was shot!” He wheezed, rushing off his horse. Everything faded to black.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead fanfic #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption arthur #arthur morgan is sexy #ghostheartfelt #ghostheartfelt writing

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wherethefireliliesgrow · 2 months

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Moonlight Sunrise (Part 4)

Minatozaki Sana x reader

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

GENRE: angst, fluff, non-idol

TYPE: Short fic

When she was a child, Sana had never been afraid of anything.

While the handmaids cowered behind furniture at the sight of insects and snakes, the princess would be the first to catch these horrid beasts. She snuck into the training grounds, trained with the head of security secretly without her father's permission, hoping to be her knight instead of a damsel in distress. She needed no protector; she was as brave and as capable as any of her father's men.

Her father would shake his head in disappointment at the sight of Sana covered in mud from head to toe, instead of being the proper princess that he wanted her to be. Her mother, however, encouraged her to do the things she liked, to live her life the way she wanted.

Sana shone as bright as the sunrise, full of life as if it were midsummer. She was the hot sun spreading heat and warmth to every corner of the universe.

Minotosaki Sana wasn't afraid of anything—until she was 17.

It turns out, she's afraid of the dark.

Ironically, after being cursed into the labyrinth and changed into a gloomwraith, a creature of the night, Sana couldn't bear the darkness. Her body craved and fed on the shadows and despair, while her heart and mind panicked at the idea of the pitch-black world she was now in. She was afraid of herself.

As cliché as it sounds, she stopped fearing the darkness when she met you. You, with your serious brooding face and eerily silent demeanor, like death haunting your footsteps, somehow made her feel safe.

Sana feared the dark, but you were the one who controlled the night.

You seemed more fitting as a creature of the night than her. Yet, when you laughed, when your eyes crinkled at a lame joke she made, or when you resorted to a fit of giggles at her antics, you seemed human again.

Now, as pitch-black smoke emitted from your skin, enveloping the area around you in haunting darkness, Sana was scared. But not because of the dark; she was scared for you.

As Sana ran, she tried to push away her worries.

"This is the real reason I'm called the NightWalker," you had said, dimples flashing as you gave her a reassuring grin.

She kept replaying this scene in her mind. She had decided to trust you wholeheartedly on this. You were different this time, different from what she had seen in your previous battles with the monsters in the labyrinth. You always seemed so unfazed, stoic even. But this time, you looked deadly and full of confidence. A chill went down Sana's spine; she definitely did not want to be on the receiving end of that look. Yet to her, your air of confidence looked oddly attractive.

Besides, what else could she do to help? Blind the enemies with her uncontrollable moonlight glow?

She managed to reach the far end wall of the courtyard and crouched down on the dirt floor, feeling around until she found a small opening within the vines hanging down the walls. The ancient stone wall was cold and rough under her fingers, contrasting with the smooth, silken touch of the vines that seemed to writhe under her touch as if alive.

Everything was pitch black. She couldn’t even see her hand in front of her. All she could hear were screams of pain, the group of men calling out to each other, and a few scuffles. She never heard your voice, not once. The darkness felt oppressive, like a living entity pressing down on her from all sides, filling her lungs with dread.

After what felt like an eternity, the smoke began to clear up. It was now eerily silent, and she started to frantically search for any traces of you. Were you okay? Did they hurt you? The empty grounds left no trace of any life. The moonlight began to filter through the dissipating smoke, casting eerie shadows on the ground, highlighting the pools of blood that had seeped into the earth.

"Y/N?" Sana called, her voice trembling. "Where are you?"

Her voice raised to a higher octave as she panicked, quickly standing up and searching. "Y/N?"

She fastened her pace as she started to search, calling for you. When she found a pool of blood, she shivered in fear. Though the open space looked clean at first glance, she could now see that the grounds were littered with pools of blood and traces of a brawl. The metallic scent of blood mixed with the earthy smell of the forest floor, creating a nauseating combination.

"Please tell me you're okay," she begged, tears starting to form in her eyes.

"Y/N?"

"I'm here," she heard you call, and there you were without a sound, casually strolling towards her with your hands in your pockets, effortlessly cool and unfazed by what had just occurred.

The moonlight cast an ethereal glow on your face, highlighting the sharp angles and softening your normally stern expression.

Your tattoos were now back to their normal design, with no trace of any smoke. Your hair was perfect, and your expression was back to its calm look as before.

Sana felt like a fool. Here she was, worried and searching for you, while you looked this pretty and walked to her as if nothing had happened.

"Hey, you okay?" You had walked closer and noticed the distress on the princess's face.

"Fuck you," she hissed, reaching down to grab a pebble and throwing it at your pretty face as hard as she could.

"Hey!" you yelped, like a total loser. "What was that for?"

"You," she threw another rock.

"Are," and another. You jumped away just in time.

"A," another one, this one hitting you on the forehead.

"Ow!" you cowered, trying to walk toward her and dodging her throws.

"Selfish," she hissed, throwing another one.

"Ass." Just before she could throw the last stone, you grabbed her hands with yours, stopping her.

You were bewildered. You hadn't wanted to take that much time, but you decided to hide the bodies from the princess. You were ashamed of the things you did and didn't want her to see the remains. Normally, you weren't one to kill without receiving a kill warrant or being on a mission, but these men—something about the way they talked about Sana didn’t sit well with you.

"Let me go!" Sana's eyes burned a dangerous red, but you refused. Instead, you pulled her closer into your arms.

"Sorry for worrying you."

She struggled a bit in your vice-like grip before giving up and hiding her face in your neck. Her cool breath gave you shivers.

"I wasn't worried." Her voice came out muffled; she was sniffling.

"Right."

"I hate you and your stupid face." But her arms said otherwise as she clung to you.

It was right then that it hit you after so long. Sure, you were the best on the battlefield, but not the best at interpreting feelings. The reason why you slaughtered all those men, the reason why the objective of this mission was no longer just to get the stone, but to save Sana from this mess.

You had fallen for this fiery, bad-mouthed princess, hard.

"Sorry for leaving you alone. I had to clean up the mess," you soothed her, your heartwarming at the feeling of her chubby cheeks on your shoulders.

You stroked her soft white hair, as her soft scent of vanilla invaded your smell, calming the quickening of your heart from the fight.

After a while of being in this embrace, Sana noticed how close she was to you. Clearing her throat and embarrassed, she pushed you away.

"Let's go," she muttered, stalking toward what she thought was the right route.

"Other way," you called, laughing at her as her face flushed red and she stormed in the other direction.

The next few days went relatively peacefully, aside from a minor mishap with a run-in with a voidling :

A loud roar echoed from behind you, making your bones rattle from within. “What the hell is that?” You drew your crossbow, ready for anything. Sana merely shrugged, unaffected. “My husband.” “What? You’re married?” The words left a sour taste in your mouth, but you tried to hide the feeling. She quickly led you to the walls of the labyrinth, touching the ivy-covered stone with concentration. Quick footsteps were nearing, and you drew an arrow just in case. “Yes and no,” Sana explained as her body began to glow. The walls seemed to melt under her palms, and you looked on bewildered; this was the first time you had seen her do that. “That’s King Jin-Young. He asked my father for my hand in marriage right when I first got cursed in the labyrinth. He said he would do anything to get me out of here. He ended up dying immediately and turning into a voidling after getting eaten by sirens.” A large hole had melted into the wall, and the princess quickly pulled you through. You found yourselves back at a place you had passed by that morning. “Wow… I’m sorry about that.” Sana merely shrugged again and worked on sealing the wall. “It’s okay. I never talked to him before.” As the small space of the wall closed, you caught a glimpse of the dark, brooding figure just before it disappeared. The face, eerily similar to a human's but grotesquely distorted, had pitch-black eyes with a slitted pupil, and its mouth was twisted into a silent, malevolent grin. The skin was ashen and cracked, giving the impression of decaying bark. Long, skeletal fingers reached out from its arms, and the air around it seemed to warp with an unnatural chill. “How come you never melted the walls before this? We could’ve been in the center of the labyrinth by now.” “It only works on going back, not forward, dumbass.”

On the 10th day in the labyrinth, you reached the inner circles. The temperature was so low that you had to constantly light torches as you walked, which also made it easier to see as everything was now dark as if it were nighttime.

Sure, the dark was a bit frightening, and the cold was becoming unbearable, but it gave Sana an excuse to get close to you. She thought the way you reacted to her flirting was so cute, how embarrassed you got just by a simple wink she sent your way.

She had been subtly testing your reaction, from walking close to you to gently holding onto the hem of your coat, to grabbing your arm altogether.

The first time she held onto your arm, you didn’t say anything. She did, however, notice a slight pink tinting your ears as you avoided her gaze and continued forward.

She decided to take her actions up a notch. When she tended to a cut on your cheek you received from one of the five-legged Chimeras after a hard battle, she pressed a kiss softly on the bandage. The close proximity of your faces made you flinch, nearly falling off the small stone ledge and onto the ground.

Sana merely giggled.

You were beyond bewildered. The princess's sudden affection towards you made your mind a scrambled mess. She went from insulting you to being all cuddly. You weren't used to affection nor physical contact, but the feeling of Sana's warm hand in yours was something you yearned for.

You had gotten used to her head on your lap when you camped by the fire at night, or her soft snores when she slept with her face burrowed in your back as she sought warmth, or the way her eyes glinted mischievously when she was about to insult you. You were sure you were going to miss her presence once you got the stone.

"We're almost there," Sana murmured on the 12th day, her voice barely audible. She could feel the stone in her veins, a large thumping echoing in her cursed blood, reminding her that she belonged to the stone, not the other way around. The hairs on her arms stood up; there was just something so unsettling about being near the very thing that tethered her to the labyrinth.

Her voice slightly wavered as she led the way, her skin glittering with soft hues. You gently grabbed her arm and turned her around to look at you, trying to read her emotions through her eyes.

"You okay?" you asked, your dark eyebrows furrowed as you inspected her face.

Sana's heart gave another lurch at your caring. One thing she learned from these past two weeks with you in the labyrinth was that nothing escaped your notice. Your sight was as clear and sharp as an eagle's, which made sense given your assassin training. But it was the way you paid attention to every detail of her, everything she had to say, that made her inhumane heart start flowing with adoration.

"Yeah," she gave you a soft smile, "I’ve just never been this far before."

"First and last time," you said, surprisingly reaching down and lacing your fingers together (she was the one who always made the first move).

"I promise."

The two of you continued forward, fingers laced, your shoulders squared in a protective stance, leading the way.

The sound of running water broke through the eerie silence as you walked forward. A soft scent of baking vanilla invaded your senses, followed by the smell of salty ocean breeze and firewood, hitting you full blast as you turned the next corner.

"Do you smell that?" Sana said, lifting her nose to the air. "Apples."

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. "I don’t smell any apples.”

You had an idea of where this smell came from and quickly walked toward the large pool of water blocking your way at the far end. The water was hauntingly transparent, but so deep it seemed like a bottomless pit. Though it was eerily still, you could continue to hear the sound of running water from ahead. Your teacher had taught you about this before, and you racked your brains to recall what it was.

Sana looked at you as if you were dumb, hands on her waist. “Yes, there is! It’s so strong! And the smell of dew during dawn, and the smell of…”

“The Pool of Desire,” you muttered, slapping yourself in the head.

“Mint,” Sana finished her sentence before your words registered in her mind. “What? Oh…OH.”

She turned a faint pink, her eyes flicking between you and the water.

“What? Are you afraid of water or something?” You teased.

She merely gave you an annoyed glare and stalked toward a wooden boat near the dock.

The boat looked too small to fit two people; any weight and it would break in half. But you knew it was built with magic and should be able to hold a human and a magical creature.

The Pool of Desire was something mentioned in myths; no one alive had ever seen them before. It was said that once you touched the water, you would immediately become entranced, overtaken by your desires, and would swim to find where the smell came from until you ultimately drowned in its depths.

After a while of rowing, you finally saw the source of the flowing water. In the middle of the pool, there was a small island with a tree in the center. The island was an enchanting but eerie sight: the tree had silver leaves that seemed to shimmer like moonlight, and its bark was a deep, dark green that looked almost black. The ground of the island was covered in a soft, glowing mist that occasionally rippled with a faint, haunting glow, as if the island itself were alive and aware of your presence.

As you boarded the dock and gently helped Sana off the boat, you saw that in the middle of the tree trunk was a hole continuously flowing with water. The water seemed to cascade down the trunk and disappear into the sandy soil, creating a mesmerizing yet unsettling sight.

Sana could feel that the stone was within the tree. Her heart burned at the close proximity of the stone, and she was feeling as if any closer would kill her. Her whole body shook in pain as she tried her best to hide it. This was the moment she was waiting for for the longest time. But her whole body trembled in fear, this was far too easy.

“I’m scared, Y/N.” the princess admitted, her first time saying this after all these battles and encounters with monsters.

“This feels like a trap.” You quickly reached over to grab her hand in yours, working on soothing her.

“Everything will be fine,” you said, but you too knew there must be a catch.

You released her after a while and walked towards the tree. The tree was enormous, its trunk wide enough that it would take several people holding hands to encircle it. The hole with flowing water in the trunk was about the size of a large dinner plate, and the water that poured from it was clear but strangely thick, as if infused with some otherworldly essence. Engraved on its ancient wooden body were words in Latin. You thanked Yeji for making you take Latin courses with her during your time at the academy.

But as you slowly translated the words, a sense of dread engulfed you.

In the depths of dreams where shadows sing,

I offer you but one thing.

A wish fulfilled, your heart's fire,

At the cost of your greatest desire.

You froze, knowing how this would go.

Sana had unintentionally taken over your heart in the past few weeks together, and you knew that the moment you smelled the vanilla first from the pool, she was now the most precious thing in your heart. The reason for the stone had changed during the days you were here.

You initially wanted to find the cure for Yeji, but it slowly changed to wanting to set the lonely princess free from this dark hell of a place. You wanted her to be happy and wanted to do anything to see the sunrise again, with or without you. Which meant your wish had to be her.

You had to exchange setting Sana free from the stone for your time with her.

“What does it say?” the princess asked, her head peeking curiously from the back of your shoulder.

Her warm hand was still in yours, squeezing it slightly to knock you out of your trance.

“Nothing important. Just steps on how to retrieve the stone.” You forced a smile and looked at her.

Sana could tell you were lying. Your eyes were clouded, and she knew you well enough to see the little twitch in your eyebrow when you lied. Something had changed the moment you read the words, and she could tell it was something bad.

“There’s more to it.” She squinted, trying to make you tell the truth.

What she didn’t expect was for you to lean down and kiss her. The feeling of your soft lips on hers, your minty breath blowing in her face, was enough to make her forget the situation momentarily. She pulled you closer to her, her hands intertwined with your hair, and her heart beat so fast she was about to have a heart attack. Her whole body tingled, and she wanted nothing more than to be closer to you.

You finally pulled away when there was a lack of air, laughing at her little whine as she chased after you.

You took a step back and looked at Sana. Her eyes seemed to sparkle, her cheeks flushed pink, and her lips swollen from the kiss. She was beautiful, and you wanted anything to have her look at you this way—so full of desire, so full of love. You’d engrave this memory of her in yours so that when she forgets everything, at least there would still be someone who remembered what happened in this cursed labyrinth.

“I—” Sana breathed deeply, trying to catch her breath. “Wow.”

You laughed, giving her a kiss on the forehead before quickly turning around to face the tree. You tried to stop the tears that were beginning to gather in the corner of your eyes.

“Why does that feel like a goodbye?” Sana asked softly, her voice wavering as you started to put your hand into the hole.

“Y/N?” Her voice was calm, but you could hear a soft tremble at the end.

Your hand came in contact with something small and hard within the flowing water of the trunk. You refused to turn back to look at her.

“I promised you that you’ll be able to see the sunrise.” You whispered.

“But I was happy with your moonlight.”

Sana gazed at her reflection in the vanity mirror, where she had been sitting ever since getting ready for bed hours ago. Morning was approaching, and as she brushed through her long brown locks, she couldn't help but study her image.

It had been a week since she left the labyrinth, but she still couldn’t get used to her human appearance. Her skin retained a ghostly pallor, reminding her of the darkness she had escaped. She made a mental note to get herself some sunlight.

She felt off, as if a chunk of her memories was missing. She yearned for someone she couldn’t remember ever since she woke up at the entrance of the labyrinth. She had managed to catch a glimpse of the silhouette of the person who seemingly carried her there and saw another figure run from the crowd and into the labyrinth with the person. Was that person the one who saved her?

“Are you okay, princess?” Momo, a royal guard she was unfamiliar with, called from the door.

She had noticed Sana staring at herself blankly.

“Yeah.” Sana sighed softly, before turning to look at the guard.

“I just feel like parts of my memory are missing.”

The guard pursed her lips as if she wanted to say something but changed her mind.

“I promised someone I would do this for them,” Momo said, gesturing for the princess to follow her.

Confused, but curious, Sana put on a thick gown and followed the guard.

They made their way down the castle, through a small, murky corridor lit only by flickering torches. The air was damp and smelled of mildew, each step echoing off the stone walls. They descended a long set of spiral stairs, the rough stone cold beneath their feet. At the bottom, they pushed open a withering wooden door with a creak.

A forlorn bench stood near the metal walls surrounding the labyrinth. The labyrinth loomed ominously in the distance, its dark, vine-covered walls stretching up towards the sky, shrouded in a perpetual gloom.

Sana gasped. This was definitely a scene she had seen before. The familiarity washed over her like a wave, bringing with it a sense of déjà vu that made her heart ache.

As the sun slowly peeked over the looming walls of the labyrinth, casting a golden hue over the twisted vines, Sana felt a strange sense of peace. Yet, her heart burned with the thought of missing someone, a longing that she couldn’t place.

She closed her eyes, basking in the gentle warmth of the sunrise, but craving the embrace of the night.

Previous Chapter

anndddd it's finally finished!

Thank you to all the people who paitently waited for this. I'm thinking of doing an epilogue if anyone wants to see a happier ending.

Let me know your thoughts!

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beevean · 2 months

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Oh are we doing personal takes? Here’s one that might steam some hams. I think the current direction sonic has been going isn’t entirely Flynn’s fault. I mostly think sonic team/ sega are partly to blame as well, Flynn is just a writer that has dumb ideas. But sega/sonic team also overlook those ideas, they are mostly the ones that decide what their characters/games should be, and if sonic team thought giving eggman a daughter was ok, then that is also on them, not just Flynn

Strongly agree | Agree | Neutral | Disagree | Strongly disagree

This is, more or less, the summarized timeline:

Forces is considered an abysmal failure, after a streak of mediocrity and disappointment that started with Lost World and continued with the three years of Boom. Game is rushed and also wants to cater to too many people, speaking of confusion. The fandom is burned out.

Conversely, Mania is a resounding success. Mania was developed by fans, which leads to the mentality that Sonic should be just left in their hands.

Archie is cancelled. This really doesn't help the fans' mood, especially the ones who were attached to it and considered it a fun alternative to the games. However, a saving grace: another comic series begins soon after, helmed by none other than Archie veteran Ian Flynn.

IDW is another resounding success. Fans love Flynn's writing and consider it leagues above Pontaff's, as he "gets the characters" and remembers the lore. From 2018 to 2022, this is the best received Sonic content, because the games department is slightly lacking (TSR dies after a few months, Colors Ultimate becomes infamous for its glitches, Origins gets a lukewarm reception both because of its glitches and because of the lack of Amy, although the latter gets fixed in a DLC).

SEGA can't ignore how much Flynn gets seen as the savior of a franchise in danger. They decide to hire him for the next game, which was already highly experimental and made with the intention of saving Sonic from another brink.

Frontiers is a massive success, the likes SEGA hadn't seen since Mania, or perhaps even Adventure 2. The story is one of the most praised parts of the game, because at last, it "rerails" the characters and delves into them. By this point, admittedly, Flynn had caught some flack for IDW, for things like #50, but the majority still adores him.

Well. Why not keep him, then? And give him more and more to do? Clearly he knows what he's doing, right?

I don't like that Flynn is sticking his fingers in every Sonic product, but I also recognize that it's not that he's prancing in, demanding attention. Quite the contrary. While he loves basking in praise and hype, sometimes he sounds just... tired.

Also, despite my former friends being all like "there, I knew you'd get pissy and judgmental the moment Flynn was revealed as the writer for Frontiers because you hate him, you're not giving him a chance!", I'm actually aware that the biggest issues I have with its plot are not Flynn's fault. From what I gathered, he wrote the dialogue, but not the story, which was also at the mercy of the rushed development (I can't in good faith blame Flynn for things like Sonic recovering from corruption in a minute). I can safely blame him for things like Amy being all "I'm not a damsel in distress anymore!" or writing unironically the words "wildly inconsistent" or the entirety of the Egg Memos :P but no, Kishimoto is to be questioned for the plot beats. Eggman may be more callous towards Sage in Japanese, but the DLC still ends with them holding hands, and that was no Flynn.

#sonic the hedgehog

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manjirossluttlybitch · 6 months

Text

Part two

Your face flushed red or felt really hot you tried to argue but “no fighting hurry up or I will do it for you” he spoke you sat up and trembled slowly undoing your tie you pulled it down and then starting unbuttoning your blouse he walked towards you making you shudder as he caressed your face “Ya’ gonna stay looking awestruck?” he said in a monotone voice as grasped your wrists pinning them above your head and harshly slamming you against the wall

“Do I have to do it for you?” He asked free hand lightly touching your dress-shirt you flinched from the sudden contact “p-please Sano-sama I don’t wish to do this!” You plead but a sloppy kiss from him halted your thoughts parting he hurried to remove your blouse and threw the obstacle to the ground you felt weak

Like a damsel in distress “please—!” You tried to plead “Y/n shut up and save your voice for moaning my name” you immediately went silent as he tugged on the strap of your c/b and then ripped it off a yelp fell from your lips as you felt your nipples harden from the gust of cold went a shiver went down your spine

“So pretty..” he muttered kissing your breast “A-ah” a moan came from your mouth he sucked on the sensitive skin he stopped sucking leaving your skin fleshed red or sore with a smirk he pulled on your skirt waistband “so pretty just for me mh?” He uttered you dared to speak not wanting to anger him a long ripping sound vibrated throughout the office and you panties left on full display

Leaving y’all on teaser

#yandere tokyo revengers #yandere bonten #mikey x reader #bangchan

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sirensea14 · 1 year

Text

Atin ang West Phillipine Sea! 🇵🇭🇵🇭🇵🇭🌊🌊‼️

Commissions are open!

💀💜💗💜💗💜💗💜✨💗💜💗💜💗💜💗💀

Welp, take 4... Redrawn

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I love games/series/shows like:

Bendy and Boris in the Inky Mystery/Inky Mystery, Poppy Playtime, Batim/Batdr, Little Nightmares, In Sound Mind, Cuphead, Kimetsu no Yaiba, Still Wakes the Deep, Mr. Hopp's Playhouse, Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, Tadc and skibidi toilet (yea yea no shit, leaf me a lone)

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#meet the artist #introduce yourself #ibispaintx #sirensea #self taught artist #siren screams #pilipino #delulu✨#fishies<3 #art #digital art #filipino artists #pinned post #atin ang west philippine sea #A-clone

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brightlotusmoon · 8 months

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"The infantilizing that people do with Taylor Swift is fascinating to me. Every time we lobby a critique, folks act like someone is bullying a defenseless 14 year old. Taylor is 34 GROWN years old. She is treated like a Disney princess, a damsel in distress, and that in itself is a privilege very few other women are afforded.

I think Taylor is a genius, because she plays into this, and it allows her to be protected beyond. It's intentional. It's strategic. It's part of her brand identity and she revels in it. It's why every time she wins an award, she gets on stage and acts like she just got surprised with her favorite doll at Christmas.

We talk about systems upholded by patriarchy but weaponized femininity is a thing. And Taylor's the Matron Saint."

https://www.facebook.com/share/p/beyeGjLeS6rPxB6G/?mibextid=oFDknk

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 1 year

Text

2019, North Island Naval Base - Rooster

Chapter 2 Part 2 of You Are My Soulmate

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Description:

Bradley loves being able to fly and still come home every night. That's the magic, he's sure, of working at Top Gun as a part of a squadron the Navy trusts with only the most sensitive of missions. Being home, having a home to rest his head, is great. But he can't help feeling like something is missing. Then there is Tinkerbell. He can't get her out of his head. It's like they're magnets, constantly orbiting one another, inexplicably attracted to each other despite it all. It being Hangman, of course.

It all comes to a head during a routine AMDO inspection. Bradley can't figure out why he so desperately wanted to jump to Tinkerbell's rescue when even Hangman didn't look worried. She's not a damsel-in-distress and he's no knight-in-shining-armor, of course.

Disclaimers: Misogynistic speech. Mentioned Homosexual Relationships. Sex Dream. P-in-v sex. Smut.

This content presented in this story is for audiences age 18 and over only. MINORS DNI. I will not be accepting tag-list requests from Blank or Ageless Blogs for this story.

Warnings: Female!Reader

Word Count: 4136

A/N: Hey All! This is officially Rooster's perspective on the events in Chapter 2! He's a very confused man, but hopefully we can see a little bit more of his thought process here. Happy Rooster Day, Everybody!

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

My Masterlist

Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

It’s officially summer in San Diego. Even at 5 in the morning, Bradley can already feel the heat rising. It’s going to be hellish trapped in a cockpit for hours a day. But San Diego has nothing on the desert. Once you’ve run flight patrols in 110°F heat, San Diego feels like a breezy cool spring day. The new class at Top Gun won’t think so, of course. They’ll be complaining the entire time. The sun will also make them sloppy, easier to take down. An upward climb, put the sun in their eyes, tone lock and that’s it. That’s a Mav trick, but damn is it effective.

Other than the pounding beat of his feet and the sweat prickling on his temples and dripping down his bare back, Bradley feels good, great, in fact, today. When he'd just started flying, he'd never wanted to teach. All he wanted to do was fly, fly until he became the best of the best. A decade of hard work and a considerable amount of skill later and he can say he's officially reached that goal. Taking the position at Top Gun, disseminating the knowledge he’s earned with blood, sweat, and tears? It feels like the perfect next step.

That euphoric feeling is a glowing ember in his chest as he parks the Bronco in his customary spot in the base parking lot and gets out. A few spots down he can see a gorgeous cherry red convertible. The sight of that classic car, obviously lovingly cared for and painstakingly restored is another indicator that today is going to be a great day. At least, that is, until he sees who gets out of it.

It's Tinkerbell. He can see the sun shining off of her thick glossy hair, tied back today into a braided bun. She's in uniform and has on sunglasses and is carrying the biggest cup of coffee he's ever seen. She's normal so cheery and chatty. Not today. A frown mars her pretty face and he can practically see the storm clouds over her head. Maybe she fought with Bagman? Where is he? He's always around her, which makes sense, in a way to Bradley. If Tinkerbell was his soulmate, he'd never let her out of his sight. Come to think of it, for the past few months, Bradley's never seen Hangman and Tinkerbell leave together. Not at all. They come on base separately, they go home separately and even when hanging out at the Hard Deck, there's no displays of affection. No kisses or hugs, nothing to show that they love each other.

It's a conundrum. But really, Bradley can't pretend to know what their relationship is like. Just because his mom and dad were obsessed with each other 24/7, and showed it too, doesn't mean that every soul-pairing has to be. Though he hopes that his soul knows that he's going to adore them every day, unendingly and unceasingly. The first stop he makes is into the male officer’s locker room to change into his flight suit. The rest of the guys are already in the room, and he’s sure Nat and Callie are in the ladies changing room doing the same thing.

When the Daggers walk into the hangar, they find Admirals Simpson, Bates and Mitchell all arrayed at the front of the room. Bradley lines up next to Phoenix and exchanges a questioning glance with Mav. The wink he gets back is no help. Not at all. He notes the new class lining up across the aisle in his peripheral vision. It's all quiet as the assembled twenty-four aviators await their morning briefing. The Admirals don't start, however, until one final person walks in.

It's Tinkerbell, in a mechanics jumpsuit, with a clipboard under her arm and still carrying that colossal to-go cup. The first time he sees her smile today has his mouth going dry. She's smiling and chatting with Hondo, too low to be heard, but still obviously jovial. She even winks at Mav. Bradley's so tuned to her that he barely pays attention to the briefing, snapping to attention only when Cyclone says her name. After a brief introduction, all eyes are on her.

Bradley's captivated immediately, chewing on his lips as he takes in her form. The jumpsuit she's wearing is generally baggy and not the most flattering. But on her? It takes his breath away. Tinkerbell lights up the room without even trying to. Bradley lets her sweet voice fall into the background as he watches her lips move as she introduces herself and what the inspection today involves. He’s immediately thinking of the burgundy shade her lips had been the night he met her. He has no idea how long he’s been staring when she stops talking and takes a sip of coffee. A drop of the liquid stays stuck on her bottom lip and Bradley’s fixated on the way her tongue darts out to sweep the liquid away. He can feel his pulse jump unsteadily beneath his skin and an tightening of his boxers. He’s never been so glad that the flight suits are on the baggy side. She’s listing out aviators and that’s when Bradley tunes back in fully, listening for his name. Tinkerbell doesn’t say it though, and when she dismisses the aviators, he makes a beeline for Maverick and the other admirals.

It’s a few minutes before Maverick can talk to him.

“Hey, kid. Are you worried about an AMDO inspection?” Bradley has missed this. For years, he kept himself from having this, talking to his godfather due to his own stubbornness.

“Nah, Mav. Just wanted to know if you wanted to head to the officer’s lounge and get a cup of coffee?” This is probably skirting the lines of propriety a bit, but after so long, Bradley’s not going to give up any opportunity to reclaim what he lost.

“Can’t, kid. Cyclone and Warlock want me rotating between the two hangars. It’s our AMDO Commander’s first inspection round since her promotion. It’s her first test. They want to see how she does. Frankly, so do I.” Mav’s looking out over the milling aviators.

“Maybe you and the Daggers can do the rounds as well, at least when you’re not taking part in inspections yourselves?”

“You got it, Mav.” Bradley’s quick to salute and leave, briefing the others as they walk into Hangars Three and Four and splitting up into pairs. For some reason, Bradley has ended up partnered with Bagman. As they make rounds of the hangar, Bradley can’t keep from tracking Tinkerbell. He’s unconsciously been following her all day, and when the changeover happens and he ends up in Hangar Three for his own inspection, he spends the entire time intensely aware of her presence. At least, that is, until Hawk begins pitching a fit at the AMDO in charge of the inspection on his plane.

He's not a bad kid, Hawk, that is. He's just got a traditional case of the regular aviator ailment. He's cocky, arrogant and full of himself. Bradley's seen the files. He's like Bagman used to be when they were at Top Gun, always pushing the envelope. The only difference is, while Bagman knows not to talk back to superiors, Hawk clearly hasn’t learned that lesson yet. He’s already moving before he realizes that Tinkerbell is walking right towards the yelling and will reach Hawk before he will. Hawk doesn’t even seem to care that she’s right there. Hawk’s so loud that Bradley can’t even hear what Tinkerbell says to him. Bradley moves in closer, as he keeps laying into the Lieutenant, her surname is Green, if Bradley remembers correctly.

This is some test, if it’s what the admirals were intending. Hawk’s making a scene that’s got nearly everyone in the hangar milling around. But Tinkerbell stays cool under pressure. She pulls out an air horn from her utility belt and gives it one blast. Bradley’s ears are ringing and he’s at least 3 feet away from her. Hawk was next to her when she let the horn blow.

"That is enough." Her voice is louder than he’s ever heard it. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Taylor. If you have a problem with a member of my team, you are to come find me. You DO NOT yell, scream, curse, or berate my AMDOs. Frankly, you do not have the authority to do so."

A handful of words and she’s already commanding the room.

"You have two minutes. Tell me what happened. Plain and to the point. No flowery language, no blame games, just the facts." There’s a growl in her voice now. It sends shivers down Rooster’s back, and arousal simmering through his veins. But before he can lose himself into the new grit and sex inhibiting Tinkerbell’s voice, Hawk picks up a litany again. He spits out some glossily dressed up bullshit about how Lieutenant Green has been miscrewing panels back into place. Tinkerbell stands tall, moving under the jet to examine the offending screws. Of course, just as she wheels around to let him have it, he starts up again.

"I mean, I don't even know why the Navy trusts such important tasks to women." Those words have Bradley’s hands clenching in anger. How dare he? It’s obvious he has no idea what it takes to be an AMDO. But before he can interject and dress the little idiot down himself, there’s an arm around his shoulder. It’s Hangman, jaw clenched but nodding 'No' at him regardless of his own feelings. His eyes say ‘Let Tinkerbell handle this.’

"It's not like any of you know how to even use a screwdriver properly." Hawk’s voice is oily as he gives Tinkerbell a once-over and clearly finds her lacking if the disgust in his eyes says anything. That look doesn’t affect her at all. If anything she stands up even straighter and gets a few steps closer. With a deliberate cool, she pulls out the air horn and blows a burst so loud that everything, even the ambient sounds of the wind seem to fall silent.

"Lieutenant Junior Grade Taylor, enough!" Her voice is like pure sex as she gets into Hawk’s personal space, one finger pointed at his sternum.

"Lieutenant Green's work is immaculate. While you've been ranting and raving like a lunatic over there, I've been reviewing her work. I dare say that your jet is far more aerodynamic than it was before you brought it here for the inspection."

Her chest heaves as she pauses. There’s a fire in her eyes as she glares at Hawk.

"As far as your other comments, I just have one question for you. I've seen your file. You graduated from Flight School. So that means you know everything there is to know in the NATOPS for the F/A-18. Correct?"

"Damn straight!" Bradley already knows that the kid has no idea what an AMDO does.

"Lieutenant Green knows the F-18 NATOPS, too."

He’s confused? At what? Does he not know Lieutenant Green by name?

"You know, the officer you were just calling stupid because she's a woman? She knows the NATOPS for the F-18, F-22, and F-35 forwards and backward in addition to the E-2 Hawkeye and C-130 Hercules. That's four planes in addition to what you know, correct? You clearly have no idea what an AMDO does. We don't just inspect your planes. We inspect the maintenance protocols for them. There's nobody I'd trust more to inspect a plane I'm responsible for than her."

Rather than focus on Tinkerbell, because that is a boner waiting to happen, Bradley focuses on Hawk. He’d feel bad for the kid, but there were so many warnings that it's ludicrous that Hawk hasn’t picked up on anything. His intelligence has to be exaggerated.

"Lieutenant Junior Grade, your conduct is unbecoming when speaking to a superior officer." Hawk's gawking with his mouth open like a fish while she lays into him. "Be assured, I will be speaking at length about your conduct to Admirals Simpson, Bates, and Mitchell. As for your treatment of Lieutenant Green, I'll expect a full written apology across my desk by 10 AM tomorrow. You're to report to Chief Warrant Officer Coleman for 300 push-ups while Lieutenant Green finishes up her work."

Hawk’s staring open jawed at Tinkerbell as she stands at her highest and stares him down.

"ARE WE CLEAR, LIEUTENANT JUNIOR GRADE?!" The hangar is completely silent as Tinkerbell’s voice rings through it.

"Y-yes, ma'am." Just when Bradley thinks he can breathe again, she turns her fiery gaze on everyone else standing around in the hangar.

"Alright, folks, nothing to see here! The US Navy doesn't pay us to engage in scuttlebutt! Back to work unless you want to spend all night here. I'm not all too sure our complement of Admirals would like the thoughts of us in pajamas, braiding each other's hair as we gossip about which plane is the best!”

Bradley’s chuckling despite himself. She’s such a study in contrasts, Tinkerbell. So serious and commanding in one instance but so cheery and joyful in the next. Each facet of her personality makes her more interesting. It’s going to be a delight to have her on North Island. When she’s alone or surrounded by other pilots, she’s not so bad. But of course, as soon as Hangman walks up to her, Bradley’s reminded of exactly why he can’t get close to her. She’s taken. She’s somebody else’s girl. To make matters worse, she’s Hangman’s girl. Hangman’s not the type to let another man get close to his girl.

He's careful for the rest of the time she flits about the hangar, taking time to speak to each pilot, each member of her team, and each member of the flight crew. It's not long at all before the cacophony of power tools and drills resounds through the hangar. About an hour after the scene with Hawk, Bradley looks up and sees her walk out of the hangar. He makes an excuse about running out for a cup of coffee before grabbing a water bottle and following her out as stealthily as he can.

If he's been tracking her correctly, and he has, he knows that Tinkerbell will be making her way over to Hangar Four. He nearly walks by her, in truth. She's scrunched up in the alley between the two hangar buildings. She's leaning against the dusty wall with her head in her hands. He doesn't want to startle her, so he clears his throat as obnoxiously as he can.

“Bradshaw.” Her voice is curt, so cold that if he didn't know any better he'd think an ice storm had enveloped San Diego.

He can't help how gentle his own voice is as he says her callsign. “Tinkerbell.”

Bradley's got every bit of those beautiful doe eyes looking right up at him, and it makes him lose his composure in a way that nothing else ever has.“Was that - um - Was that the first time you’ve had to give a subordinate a dressing down?”

“No.” Her half-smile nearly blinds him, even as Tinkerbell stares up at the sky. Her chuckle is a barely heard puff of breath that turns into words, “I’ve given a lot of those. This is just the first one since my promotion. Each one leaves me feeling terrible after, though. I don’t know what it’s like for men when they have to do something like what I just did, but I know one thing. Taylor’s going to be all over base calling me a bitch, or any other thing which comes to mind. If it were a man telling him the same thing, he’d probably have bitched and moaned for a little bit before ultimately accepting it.”

It's true. That's exactly what Taylor's going to do. He's going to either drag Tinkerbell in front of everyone who asks him what happened or let the rumors about her tank her reputation. Her voice is thin and breathless as she continues, “H-he’s going to be swanning around for the rest of his time at Top Gun glaring at me, and he and I are going to be the center of all of the gossip and rumors floating around because of it. I’ve heard it all before, you know? She’s fucking him, she’s trying to seduce him, etcetera, etcetera.”

As Bradley stands there, just listening as Tinkerbell confides in him, he can't help making a resolution. He resolves then and there that he'll put a stop to it. That he'll keep Taylor from destroying Tinkerbell. Maybe he'll go to Mav, Cyclone and Warlock himself? There is no way Hawk's blatant disregard for authority can stand as it is. It feels so good to just be the force of her attention.

She's a vision illuminated in gold as the late afternoon sunshine halos around her gleaming hair and drips into golden pools on her skin. When her words run out, he proffers the water bottle in his hand to her. Tinkerbell's smile at that one small gesture is enough to have every thought wiped clean from his mind. It takes an embarrassingly long time for Bradley to lead her back towards Hangar Four, trying, and probably failing to make conversation about AMDO inspections with her.

By the time he walks back to Hangar Three, a paper cup full of the Navy's finest brew in hand, Bradley's smiling from ear to ear. He’s almost too light-hearted for the rest of the day. Everytime he sees Tinkerbell out of the corner of his eye, a ridiculously giddy grin curls across his mouth. When he stops at the base gym afterwards, he plugs in his headphones and loses himself to the music. He’s jamming out so hard that he barely notices the time passing.

It’s late when he finally staggers into the locker room showers. His muscles twinge with every move he makes and the base’s trickling stream of hot water barely does the job. He throws on a pair of board shorts and a tank top and heads out the door. All he wants right now is a beer and something to eat. As luck would have it, though, just as he walks towards the Bronco, he sees Tinkerbell, scrunched down in the driver’s seat of her convertible. It looks like she’s waiting for someone? Probably Hangman, the nasty voice in his head decides to pipe in. What if he comes out and kisses her? Bradley’s not sure he can take it.

What would it be like to have her as his soul? To see that beautiful smile waiting for him in the passenger’s seat of the Bronco? To be able to kiss her until she’s breathless for him? Breathless because of him? Before he can dwell on it, he drives away, giving her a half wave. The entire time he can see the base parking lot out of the rearview mirror, he’s keeping his eyes peeled for the sight of that red car. He manages to put her out of his mind for the rest of the night, but then he dreams.

Most of his dreams are about his mom and dad and Mav. He asks them what it’s like to have a soulmate, what it means to love them, and how to be a good soulmate. Most of the time, he wakes up from those dreams feeling like he’s just been wrapped in one of his mom’s bear hugs.

Tonight, when he dreams, it starts like no other dream he’s ever had. For one, he doesn't see anybody he recognizes in the room, if it even is one. Everything is foggy and he can feel the wet slap of it against his face, arms and calves as he trudges through it. The only other place where he has felt fog like this was in San Francisco, on the one trip he remembers taking to visit his Aunt Sarah, Pop's sister, right after his mom had died.

Out of the fog an island festooned in string lights comes up. There's a car there, his Bronco, he realizes as he walks closer to it. The doors are all closed, but there are clearly people inside. The windows are fogged and as he walks closer he can hear a bitten off gasp as a hand presses up against the window, leaving a mark on the misty surface. The closer he gets, the more he hears. He can hear himself, calling someone his beautiful, gorgeous, and lovely girl. He can also hear a voice that's immediately familiar to him.

"Bradley!" Her voice is high pitched and strung out. He is instantly captivated by those breathy moans. Bradley can feel himself grow hard as he tries to see who this pretty girl is. On the other side of the car there's an open window, and Bradley can't believe who he sees. Between one breath and the other, he finds himself in the car.

It's Tinkerbell, of course it is. She's bare, every supple inch of skin on full display as she writhes in his dream-self's lap. He's got his mouth on the soft swell of her tits and his hand buried in the wet warmth at the apex of her thighs. When he blinks, he's hit with all of the sensations, of her release soaking his hand as he fucks three fingers into her, the pinching tug of her hands in his hair, the feeling of her hard nipple against his tongue.

When she cums again, her hips stuttering in their steady pace, he pulls away from her. She's smiling down at him, tenderly and sweet. When she laughs, it sounds like bells chiming in the distance, maybe wedding bells? He can't resist tugging her smiling mouth down to his own, kissing the sensual curve over and over again until her laughter has once again transformed into moans.

This time, when he trails his fingers through her wet folds, he's met with soft hands over his aching length. She's so gentle as she frees him from his boxers and trails his length through her soaked folds. She feels like sin as she carefully sinks down lower and lower. Her eyes go glassy and wet as her chest heaves and she struggles to take him to the hilt.

"B, baby I can't. You're so big and thick." Her voice is a barely audible coo. Bradley can't resist reeling her in for a kiss, feeling her soft skin pressed up against his own. She's so tight wrapped around his length, like she was made for him. He can't resist scratching at her scalp, freeing the glossy strands of her hair from her braid. She smells like citrus blossoms in bloom and tastes like berries.

Bradley's so gone for this beautiful, gorgeous thing in his arms. He can't resist telling her that as well, as she adjusts, the cool breeze peaking her nipples as they graze his pecs. There's a tattoo against her ribs, something delicate and beautiful that suits her to perfection. He can't tell what it is, a flower, maybe? Whatever it is, he wants to trail his tongue over the stark black ink, to taste every inch of her skin.

Just as he's about to coax her onto her back in the backseat so he can do just that, she's moving her hips. Each undulating swell has her rising and sinking faster and deeper until she's taking Bradley's length from tip to root every time. Her tits bounce with each movement, and he can't resist tracing a bead of sweat as it trails between the pretty globes. Her mewls as he suckles on her nipples has him ready to explode. But he doesn’t, not yet. Each thrust has Tinkerbell falling apart in his lap a bit more. Already her hips are stuttering in their steady pace and she's babbling at him.

When he thumbs at her clit, Tinkerbell cums on his length with a scream. The combination of her heat and how she looks bouncing on his dick have Bradley spilling into her within just a few thrusts after her. Bradley wakes up seconds later.

It's the dead of night. His clock blinks the time in neon green, 2:40. His skin is coated in sweat and there's a damp patch in his boxers from where he'd cum in his pants like a teenager after a wet dream. But even after he's cleaned up, he can't bring himself to go back to sleep again. Tinkerbell's face as she cums is tattooed in his brain. How is he ever going to face her again? Seeing her command a room is enough to give him blue balls. Now? It'll take superhuman control to keep his composure on base.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

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