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adelheidvonschicksal · 10 months

Note

hii i have a request for megumi x reader where he is unaware of readers attraction to him and he is doesn’t realise the effect of when he does something like scratch his neck and his shirt lifts and it happens one too many times until she admits that he’s pretty which makes him all flustered😭 can be sfw or nsfw

Staring Problem

Five times Megumi caught you staring at him + the one time you caught him staring at you

Notes: I got carried away whoops. Flustered Megs is my fav followed by feral. (I actually had another scenario like this for Christmas except the Reader was doing it on purpose rofl; this one is just a bit ditzy). Thanks for the request. It was fun! Thank you @avidbroswer and another friend for beta reading!

Relationship: Megumi x Fem!Reader

Tags: Fluff, humor, mild sexual context but overall SFW (i.e. no sex), 5000 words

The first time Megumi notices you staring at him is after the baseball game with the Kyoto students.

The game was a big win for your group. Everyone was loudly cheering and celebrating your victory over your sister school – aside from him. It’s not that he wasn’t pleased with the victory. Who wouldn’t be? The cheering and high-fiving wasn’t his scene though. The most celebration he required was simply brushing his hand through divine dog’s fur for a job well done before dismissing the creature.

Megumi walks back to the dugout, steps into the drop-off, and peels his helmet from the top of his head. The sweat accumulated in his helmet causes his hair to cling to him, forcing it down against the back of his neck and his bangs into his line of sight more than usual. He never liked what he considered too much hair on his nape; and for some reason, Gojo hated it even more. Not that he ever understood why Gojo would care about how he styled his hair. He was just weird, he guesses.

Either way, it was annoying.

Gripping his shirt collar, he brings it to his forehead to clean the moisture away, and there’s the added bonus of the breeze cooling off his stomach as his shirt untucks from his uniform pants. He finishes off his grooming with a quick stroke of his fingers up through his bangs before reaching for his water bottle.

It isn’t until he’s finished drinking and wiping away the small bead of water that escapes his mouth to cascade down his pointed jaw with the back of his wrist that he catches the sudden sensation of someone looking at him.

He glances behind him, scanning the crowd of cheerful faces, and he catches your gaze pinning him down. There’s no mistake you’re watching him, but he isn’t sure why you have that clouded, half-lidded stare locked on him like a homing gun.

It makes him antsy even when your neutral lips turn into a gentle smile, and you move to congratulate Itadori on his victory-winning home run.

The next time he catches you, you’re at the café with the other first years, pouring over schoolbooks together. He doesn’t often study with the others outside of class; but out of everyone in the school, he has the best head on his shoulders academically so he can’t really refuse when the three of you earnestly ask for his help for once.

As he draws one leg over the other, Megumi shifts his weight to sit more comfortably in his chair. He rests his chin against his palm, allowing his lengthy fingers to massage the increasingly growing migraine from his throbbing temple while his elbow braces against the table to support the position. His other hand tightens around the handle of his mug and brings it to his mouth. The drink – coffee, black, always – is the only thing stopping his mind from going numb at reviewing the same information he already knows as Nobara struggles to read the chart on this particular page.

“Toos-day.”

“Tuesday.”

“When-is-day.”

“Wednesday,” Megumi corrects.

Stomping onto her feet, her hands slam on the table causing it to shake. Megumi holds his drink closer to his chest to avoid it spilling over as she growls out. “This is so stupid! Why do we need to know English anyway? Why couldn’t it be something like French? Then, we could at least hit up Paris Fashion Week.” She pulls at her hair in frustration, stopping only when you mention that she’ll cause split ends. Sighing, she releases her tension and falls back in her chair. "I need a break."

On that, you're all in agreement.

Taking the opportunity to ease his head, Megumi blows away the steam swirling from his coffee. He closes his eyes if only for a moment to bask in the roast. The liquid is hot and smooth on his tongue, a welcome sensation after walking through the cool evening to get here. It’s enough to earn a small sigh of approval.

When he opens his eyes, he sees that you’re nursing your own drink by pinching your straw between your lips. However, your eyes are on him 'or maybe the mug near his mouth?' he thinks. Regardless, you’re doing it attentively with an affectionate glint like you were smiling on the inside. It makes his eye twitch.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

You flinch like you’re snapping out a hypnotic trance. Slowly, a meek smile forms as you innocently tilt your head and place down your drink. “I was?”

“You were," Itadori corroborates. "You do it a lot actually," Itadori adds between bites of his sandwich. The fact is something Megumi has begun to notice recently as well.

Noticing everyone looking at you, your eyes widen slightly before you force them back down to look at your textbook. You slide your hands from the table and rest them in your lap. “I must’ve zoned out,” you say apologetically.

Megumi scoffs.

“If you’re going to ask me to help you study, you could at least pay attention.” Megumi sighs at the growing remorse on your face. “Forget it,” he dismisses and decides to go back to his coffee, but the peace doesn’t last long as he catches that same gaze from you a minute later.

Your eyebrows push in together as you narrow your eyes briefly in thought, and he can’t help but wonder what’s going on in your mind as you cock your head to the side again.

“Ne, Fushiguro,” you begin hesitantly and quietly. He doesn’t think he would’ve noticed you speaking to him with how soft your voice was had he not already been looking at you. “Did anyone ever tell you that your voice is kinda husky in English?”

Suddenly, his face is hot along with his tongue as he inadvertently chokes on his drink while the other two at the table burst out laughing, drowning out your frantic mutterings as you collapse your face into your palms.

It seems to be a cycle now. Megumi would be going about his day when he would occasionally (usually twice a day) get this sensation of being watched. Sure enough, he could find you following him with your eyes. There isn’t any anger when you’re doing it so he’s fairly sure that you’re not cornering him with your sight out of aggression, but he couldn’t think of another reason his presence would be of interest to you.

Megumi tried to ask Gojo the reason why someone might stare at him. When he explained that you were the one doing it, the older man only laughed at his predicament. Megumi didn’t know why he expected him to be any help in the first place anyway.

Maki was even less help (she seemed reluctant even), but at least she didn't look at him like he was an idiot like Nobara. Finally, there was Itadori, who only caused him more difficulty.

(“Are you sure she doesn’t just LIKE you?” Itadori suggested.

Megumi could only roll his eyes then. It always came back to that with him. “Look, if you’re not going to take this seriously—“

”I am!”)

Megumi almost entertained it until he thought ‘what reason would she like me?’ After all, you didn’t know each other that well. There was no explanation available so it had to be something else.

Out of everyone, he decides to take Maki’s advice that it's best to get the answer from the source.

However, whenever he asks what’s the problem, you never seem to give him a direct answer, explaining away your strange…habit. Even stranger was that he was starting to become accustomed to it, slowly losing the annoyance he held for it early on in your relationship – or maybe he was getting better at ignoring it.

Nonetheless, it would still be nice to have an explanation.

When he sees you early at breakfast, and you undoubtedly see him early at breakfast, he finally decides to broach the topic. He sits himself and his plate at your table, and he doesn’t give you the time to make excuses when he knows for certain you were staring at him.

“Alright. Enough already. What's the deal?"

“Hmm?”

“The staring,” he reiterates.

Your mouth opens like you want to say something but throughout the many times he’s confronted you on your manners, not once have you ever given him a straightforward answer.

“Don’t try to give an excuse. You were definitely watching me.”

As the small silence extends in the air so does the embarrassment on your face until it finally fades away along with your resolve. “Okay, this time I was,” you admit very specifically.

“Why?”

“There’s not really a reason," you explain while looking anywhere but directly at him, and it's an easy tell to sense that you're lying.

Megumi narrows his eyes at you.

“For some reason, I feel like that's not the case."

There has to be some reason your attention is on him so much. He’d at least like to know if it was something he did to you.

“It’s nothing bad really,” you confess, avoiding eye contact with him while your fingers fidget. “Do…you want me to stop?”

Megumi would very much like to say he wants you to stop but somehow he doesn’t think he would be able to force you not to look at him. “I’d prefer it.”

“No problem,” you say and purse your lips tightly. “But…I probably wouldn’t be able to help it every now and then,” you warn him, which piques his curiosity even more.

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, that’s because, uhm—to tell you the truth,“ you pause, and he wants to prod more from you but you’re quick to excuse yourself, leaving him with two weeks free from your staring. Or, at least you attempted for that long.

As he accepts that you're not going to stop, it comes to him that he doesn't really care anymore in the following months. It's just how you are, he figures sentimentally. It would feel weird if you stopped at this point. However, it leads to you catching him off guard too often, especially in moments like these.

The two of you were assigned to a mission to dispatch some low-level curses together. It was surprisingly easier than what the mission report suggested, not that he would complain about an easy mission.

Nue is behind him as he requests a ride back to the school over the phone. The bird shikigami is being needier than usual, nudging at the width of Megumi’s back with his head causing Megumi’s voice to be unsteady as the thick plate of Nue’s mask braces between his shoulder blades.

“Cut it out,” he scolds gently, reaching his free hand back to briefly ruffle at random mounds of feathers.

There’s a soft crooning in his ear, begging for attention. He isn’t used to Nue being this affectionate, not like his divine dogs. As he hangs up the call, Nue starts to stroke his head against his side again.

Amused, he huffs softly - as close to a laugh as anyone has ever heard from the taciturn teen – and raises his arm to let the bird cradle better against his side. The gentle cuddling from the shikigami is enough to lighten his mood as auburn feathers tickle against his fingers and coax the smallest smile from him.

“Alright. Alright. That’s enough,” he says affectionately before returning to the serious matters at hand. “We need to regroup with our partner. Can you go scout for her?” Megumi asks; but to his surprise, Nue flutters his wings and twists his head around to stare directly to the side of him…at you, a few feet away.

Megumi didn’t know how long you’d been standing there, watching him. He thinks any time was probably too long in this situation. (He also thinks he might demand you start wearing a bell when you go on missions together.)

With a goofy smile, you walk towards him, and his heart is pounding, anticipating what you could possibly be about to say as you shorten the distance between the two of you, so close that an outreached arm would be enough to close it. The childishly smug look on your face makes his cheeks burn as you gently begin to trace the outline on Nue’s faceplate and press your head against the top of Nue’s.

“Before you say anything, I wasn’t watching you. I was admiring Nue.”

Megumi scoffs. He can’t say he isn’t amused that out of all things to say, you start with that. As if it isn’t obvious by now that he knows that you’re failing hard to hide your bad habit – for whatever reason you have it. And even more amusing was the way your face would highlight in embarrassment as you tried to hide the fact.

“Convenient story.”

“It’s the truth. Isn’t that right, Nue? You’re so handsome that I can’t tear my eyes away,” you praise, cuddling the owl until he ruffles his feathers and chitters, happily letting you drown him in attention.

And for the first time, he finds himself watching you instead with your face buried against his shikigami, and Nue is equally happy for your touch. It’s a sweet scene as Megumi concludes where Nue might have started to learn these overly affectionate tendencies. That is until you turn your head, naturally searching for his presence. When you meet his gaze, you smile warmly at him causing heat to crawl up the back of his neck and his heart to jump in his throat. With your focus on him this way, he is overwhelmed by a new sensation that he isn’t sure why he’s feeling in the first place. It’s not like he was unused to you looking in his direction.

Astonished by the moment, you point out, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile before.”

Confused, Megumi blinks at you. Had he been smiling?

Your expression softens. “It suits you.”

Surprised by your tender observation, he shifts his head away, hiding his rapidly reddening cheeks from you.

“Let’s head to the meeting point,” he manages, thanking whoever above that he was able to keep his voice steady at least.

One day, you decided to stop at the café together again. This time it’s only the two of you since the others are still out on their own duo mission. Even with that being the case, he would still have accepted your invitation regardless of the availability status of your other two friends. He isn’t really sure when he started to be okay being alone with you, and he also isn’t sure when you began to get comfortable with him as well. But he finds he doesn't mind either of those anymore.

“You’re staring,” he points out flatly, not bothering to look up from his book to confirm his accusation. He knows it’s true. “What is it this time?”

There’s a laugh from you, drawing his attention up. “Nothing.”

Normally, he would let you get away with that answer nowadays; but today, Megumi is determined to finally get to the bottom of whatever is up with you and him.

“Nothing?” he questions again skeptically. You nod, and he holds his gaze on you, pointedly, securely, determined to not even blink as he watches your face.

You frown. “Why are you doing that?”

“Doing what?” he asks, one long blink to reset himself before firmly keeping royal blue eyes locked on you once more.

“That,” you say, motioning to all of him.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Uh-huh."

There’s a small beat of quiet as you return your focus to your book, but you look up every so often (probably to check if he's stopped eye-ing you down, which he doesn't). Holding an arm across your chest to scratch at the other, you squirm. As awful as it is, he feels a bit smug at the way you curve in and start to grow self-conscious.

“This is weird.”

“It is,” he agrees bluntly causing you to pout. He notes how funny it is to finally see the tables turned between the two of you and to have you overly aware of his watch. Even if he doesn’t get his answer, teasing you like this and eliciting that cute reaction is strangely worth it.

“How long are you going to do that?”

Megumi crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, never letting you leave his vision. He shrugs. “Depends. Are you going to tell me?”

You scowl but manage to hold your resolve for the better half of five minutes.

“Okay, I get it. I’ll stop,” you say, but he isn’t satisfied with that answer. Choosing to keep his rebellious challenge against you, he leans in closer and keeps up the wall until you finally start to crack under the pressure. “Well…it’s nothing really.”

“Then, tell me.”

“It’s,” you begin then pause.

He hunches in closer as if to keep your secret.

“It’s just that…” he can see you start to fidget in your chair, and for some reason, he feels his own anticipation growing. “You have a really pretty way about you.”

That was not the answer he was expecting.

“Huh? I have…a pretty way about me?” he repeats in disbelief, his face scrunching. “You must be joking.”

“I’m serious,” you tell him. “It’s something in the way you move, it makes it hard to concentrate.”

Megumi could only guess what kind of answer you would have but it wasn’t one that instantly makes his temperature skyrocket and causes his heart to start swelling against his ribcage, spreading the feeling of liquid butterflies through his veins.

“That's the only reason,” you repeat, noticing the way he seemed to completely stop functioning. “I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I?”

He uncrosses his arms, trying to sputter out a coherent sentence but his mind wouldn’t supply him with one as he fights to keep his own blushing down. “No. I’m not—it’s not that I’m—I just didn’t know what it was about—I—pretty?” he stammers, completely bewildered to the point he thinks his voice might crack for the first time in years.

You nod, growing more embarrassed. “I mean in a masculine way! Like your eyes, your hands, your voice, and the way your shirt drapes your shoulders. Ah! Basically…you’re really handsome,” you finish quickly when you realize you are rambling stupidly, and you squeeze onto the edge of your chair to calm yourself.

It’s so quiet between the two of you that you could possibly hear one of the cheap plastic straws from the front counter drop.

“Fushiguro-kun?” you ask bashfully.

He focuses his attention on the passerby's walking by the window as he shifts and squeezes at his uniform collar, attempting desperately to hide a fraction of his burning face behind the dark blue fabric. You…were simply attracted to him for some reason he would probably never understand (why in the world would you think any of that about him is attractive?) all this time.

“Let’s pretend this conversation never happened,” he tells you frantically.

Nodding, you confirm. “Yeah! That’s a good idea.”

For once, you’re not staring at him yet Megumi still feels like he can’t breathe despite the rapid rising and falling of his chest showing that he was very well breathing. As his face continues to burn and his stomach churns with this unfamiliarly pleasant and confusing emotion, he wishes his shadow would open and swallow him whole. Forever, perhaps.

It isn’t until later that night when his mind is heavy with thoughts of you, he admits to himself that he doesn’t exactly hate your reason.

Bonus

Before you enrolled in this school, your clan already outlined your priorities in life. Study, learn, become the best sorcerer you can for the benefit of the clan and your own survival. There isn’t time for things like friendship and even less for love, your family taught you, at least not until you’re older.

You agreed with that sentiment, going through your younger teen years not ever having a crush on someone or a strong preoccupation with romance. However, this school is proving that you still very much feel attraction.

Specifically for your withdrawn classmate.

Something about him was just so pretty. You’re not sure if it was the way his hair falls ever so neatly over his forehead before turning back into spiked peaks, or how deep blue his eyes are especially when shadowed by gorgeous rows of midnight eyelashes, or the way he carried himself like the stoic protagonists in the love comics your friends were obsessed with last year.

Maybe it was the entire package.

At the time you first started to notice him, you didn’t have the answer pieced together yet. Seeing that you also hadn’t learned anything proper about romance and attraction from your clan let alone flirting, the only thing you could do was stare at him as you failed to decipher this newfound infatuation that made your heart stutter and your lower body hot with tingles similar to the sensation of ginger spice on your tongue.

‘Is this that puberty thing they were talking about in health class all those years back,’ you wondered. They did say it could happen late, but this late? You weren’t sure, but you did like looking at him. That much was certain.

So, you continued to do so.

It's not like you were exactly going against what your clan told you.

After all, your clan would always say it’s important to be aware of your surroundings as a sorcerer, remember every little detail, and save it to memory, that could be the difference between death and victory in a battle.

Shouldn’t you take that advice to heart when it comes to your teammates as well? After all, these are the people you will be relying on while working. It’s important to learn their mannerisms.

Another thing your clan told you was that hands are an important thing to watch. Any sorcerers’ hands were a danger from Itadori’s hand-to-hand combat style, Gojo-sensei’s domain expansion, and Fushiguro’s entire technique.

His hands were always coming together to summon shadows, and he talked and explained things frequently with them to the point it became a distraction for you.

You also like the way his dominant hand always seems to climb up and curve around the back of his neck in the mornings as he stretches out the tightness from a cramped sleep. You would watch as he glosses each finger across his nape and shoulder, wondering what it would be like to have them coming across your own and to have fingers that could expertly craft signs tickling at your skin. Would you shudder or would it tickle or would it feel like nothing? Fortunately, you always resist the shaking urge to glide your own hand across your collar to find the answer.

It isn’t always the way his palm brushes his neck that entirely gets you but the way his sweatshirt rises, barely revealing a ring of beige skin that was normally hidden away under layers of comfortable cotton. It not only exposes him to the stagnant air of the school building but to your wandering eyes that had a bad problem of not being able to remain where they should be.

Objectively speaking, you were aware from day one that Itadori was strong and well-built under his clothes, but you didn’t realize the same could be said for Megumi until you saw the slip of his lower abdominal and the constellation of pale brown freckles hidden in the groove of his hip.

By the time your attention would return to his hands, you would be locked on the gentle way his knuckle catches the edge of his shirt's neckline. It was unknowing to him during those times that the action was teasing you by causing the fabric to lightly shift and expose the crux of his collarbone.

Then, you didn’t even want to get started on his face or eyes. The same ones that are gorgeously blue even when stormy with annoyance or softened with confusion every time he would catch you.

From your point of view, you admit that both looks were handsome on his face. However, you’re starting to realize from your last interaction that maybe you were being a tad…invasive. You refused to say creepy without a pillow to scream into.

So, you convince yourself to stop staring whenever you notice your eyes drifting to him. Only small peeks for his comfort unless you were talking to him or he to you. In hindsight, you think you are better at talking to him without embarrassing yourself all the time at least.

Your new resolve would be tested today as you prepare to head to the training field for another day of close combat drills with your upperclassmen. You dress in layers, wearing a light jacket and thigh socks with your shorts, fully intending to ditch both once it heats up a little more in the afternoon.

When you make it to the practice field, you notice two things: that Megumi is there (which you swear you only took note of for two seconds) and that you’re the last to arrive, meaning that you’re going to be the first put through the wringer with Maki-senpai.

The only positive is that you manage to last an extra round against her more than usual, and you’re left with only an aching butt as you hit the ground. You hiss and rub your wounded rear before dusting the ripped-up blades of grass from your lap. Noticing your socks bunched against your ankles, you click your tongue. Bending your legs, you start to shuffle one back up the length of your calf then your thigh. You unfurl it as high as you can until there’s only a small circumference of skin left between your shorts and the top of your sock. Satisfied, you start to repeat the process with your other leg before Maki taps your hip with her staff.

“Megumi is staring at you,” she grunts in a quiet warning, and you blink at her before trying to glance back over to the first row of bleachers. “Not too obvious.”

You force your gaze back to her, using the opportunity to catch Megumi in your periphery. Sure enough, you could barely make him out looking in your direction while Itadori talked to him. That was weird. You don't think you can recall a time where he was watching you unless you did it first. ‘He was probably watching me train,’ you begin to decide.

Before you can register what's going on completely, Maki calls out dryly, "Hey, Megumi, pictures last longer!”

Barely from this distance, you can see his head snap back and a scowl glowering on his face as he glares at her direction. “What are you talking about?”

“So, you want to play that way,” she mumbles and singles him out with a point of her staff and a crooked smile. “In that case, I’ll explain while we train!”

Megumi looks more annoyed than you have seen him in the last few days as he declares from the bleachers that he’s training with Panda instead as soon as he’s done with Nobara.

“That guy,” Maki grumbles quietly, slapping her staff back against her shoulder and layering a hand on her hip. “He makes things so difficult for everyone, including himself. I guess I’ll have to have a chat with him later.”

"Huh?" you huff as she twists her waist to look at you.

“Well, I can’t exactly have my darling little relative turning out like the rest of those perverts from the clan, after all,” she explains vaguely but instead of anger, there’s a rare hint of sarcastic amusement in her words. Suddenly, it starts to dawn on you what Maki means as your fingers brush the side of your inner thigh, and your throat starts to tighten with something akin to anxiety, and you want desperately to bury your face in your hands as you realize that he was looking at your legs. That he must like your legs…

The thought makes your heart pound, and something pulses inside you with what feels like anticipation as you catch his attention on you again. You were used to lusting after him but it was a different feeling to experience it in reverse – mutually even.

Is this what it felt like? Have you ever made him feel like this by watching him?

You didn’t know what to do.

“What do I do?”

She gives an incredulous look. “Call him out naturally, especially if it bothers you,” she replies. "But that isn't what you want, right?"

You frown, not entirely sure yourself. It didn’t bother you necessarily. If anything, you like his attention on you. It makes your body otherworldly hot when he gives it to you. Pulling your knees to your chest, you think back to what someone in one of those television dramas would do in this situation. It takes some courage, but you find your answer.

You wink at him.

It elicits an immediate response that involves him shoving his hands in his pockets and scrambling to break eye contact; so much that you can see Itadori twisting towards him with concern.

“Hah, that was a good one." Maki lets out a short and harsh snort. "Wait until I tell Panda.”

Smiling proudly, you can’t resist staring at the flush that he has to stand and stalk off to the other side of the field closer to Inumaki and Panda to hide. Out of all the attractive things about him, you think that might top your list; and truthfully, you wanted to see it again.

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #megumi x you #fem!reader #jjk fluff

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year

Text

you, her, me | joel & tommy miller

Summary | It was never going to be as easy as getting pregnant on the first try. Tommy is away, working on some project out of town, when your next ovulation test tells you it's time to go. You resign yourself to another month without what you want the most, until Tommy suggests distance needn't change your plans.

Warnings | Y'all. You know what this is. Alcohol consumption, Girlfriend sharing, breeding kink, fingering (F), oral sex (F receiving), unprotected PiV sex, Tommy yet again getting cucked (but softly), phone sex, praise kink, Joel just being a fucking stud and a dirty talking menace once again. No use of Y/N, no outbreak AU.

Word Count | 3.8k

Authors Note | Well. Part one blew up, and it was never going to take first time around was it? Thank you for all the love on this first time around. Hope you enjoy this one just as much. If you like this, please consider reblogging, commenting or popping into my ask box with some love!

Part One | Main Masterlist

It’s not like you hadn’t expected it, but that single line on the pregnancy test still annoyed you. You’d done everything right, waited until the perfect possible time to let Joel fuck you and it still hadn’t taken. Tommy had been incredibly understanding, squeezing your arm and resigning both of you to the fact you’d just have to try again. Not that it would be a terrible thing to have to try again. Joel had been…. Well, Joel had been incredible, and if it were going to feel like that every time you had to try then you surely wouldn’t complain, especially if you could have Tommy’s eyes on you the whole time.

That’s why, when you take the ovulation test the next month, and that smiling face is looking up at you, your stomach drops, because Tommy isn’t here. He’s gone for the whole week, working on some project out of town so Joel could stay with Sarah. You resign yourself to another month with an empty womb, throwing the test in the bin with fury.

Tommy phones you that night, fills you in on his day on the jobsite, tells you exactly what he had for dinner, exactly what was on the TV, before he picks up something isn’t quite right on the other end of the phone.

“What’s wrong, sugar?” His warm voice soothes down the phone pressed to your ear.

“Nothing is wrong,” Your tone dismissive yet defensive, all at the same time, you sigh, this man knows you more intimately than anyone else, he knows something is wrong, “I took one of those stupid tests and it says it’s time to try again, guess I’m just frustrated that this is another month wasted.”

He chuckles on the other end of the phone, “It doesn’t need to be wasted.”

“But you aren’t here.” You point out.

“Do I have to be?” You’re silent in response, “I don’t physically need to be there to keep an eye on things,” You can almost hear the smirk in his voice, “Or an ear.”

The coffee you’re drinking splutters from your mouth as you cough, understanding exactly what Tommy is insinuating, “You want me to phone you?” You ask, making sure you’re understanding correctly, “Phone you whilst Joel fucks me?”

“I sure do, sugar.”

“And you’re cool with us being here alone?”

“Shouldn’t I be?” He asks, “Like I said the first time, it doesn’t mean anything, I know he ain’t gonna try anythin’ stupid, so I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to take what you want from him.”

“Okay,” You relent after a few moments, “I’ll call him tomorrow, it’s getting late.”

“Alright sugar,” Tommy replies, “Sleep tight and I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”

You don’t know why, but it takes hours for you to build up enough courage to phone Joel. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to wait this month out, wait for Tommy so he could be here. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Joel, far from it, but there was something about knowing the love of your life was in the room whilst his brother tried to get you pregnant that put you as at ease with the situation as you could be.

You’ve spoken to Joel countless times on the phone, but in order to even dial his number, it takes nearly 24 hours and a glass of wine. When you hold the phone to your ear, you almost hang up, but you leave it too long because Joel’s sweet Southern drawl is greeting you.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” You reply, “How are you?” You curse yourself, inwardly cringing at how unsure you sound.

“Yeah, m’all good over here,” He responds, “You need somethin’?”

“Well, actually yeah, I do,” You rub at the back of your neck, “I um… I did one of those tests and it says I’m good to go, to like, try again, so yeah, this is me phoning to say that and make a really fucking terrible job of asking if you’d help again.”

You hear him chuckle on the other end of the phone, “Sarah’s at a sleepover tonight, I can be with you in an hour?”

“Okay, yeah, that sounds good, I’ll see you in a while.”

“See you soon, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl? Fucking hell. Joel had always been a flirt, smiles and smirks and little nicknames, but he’d never once crossed the line with you. Knew you had eyes for his little brother, would never get in the way of that. He’d never crossed that line until you’d invited him, point blank to do so. You had to remind yourself that he was only doing you a favour. A really massive, incredibly fucked up favour, but a favour none-the-less, and once that had been achieved that was it. He’d just go back to basically being your brother-in-law, wouldn’t he?

An hour later, you’d swapped the wine for a glass of whiskey, just like the first time. There’s a tentative knock at the door, which has you downing the last of the liquid before you open the door for Joel. He’s similarly dressed as last time, dark jeans and a flannel shirt open over a dark t-shirt. He’d obviously showered before coming over, hair mostly dry apart from the very ends of his curls. These damn Miller brother’s won the gene jackpot because in the setting sun, Joel is fucking beautiful.

He leans down, pulling you into a hug, “Evenin’, darlin’,” He whispers into your ear before letting you go, “You gonna invite me in?” He asks, when you don’t move to let him in.

“Oh, yeah, sorry!” You exclaim, stepping back, “Come on in.”

When you close the door behind him and turn around, you can feel the tension in the air. He’s wandering aimlessly through the open living space, standing with his hands in his pockets. It’s weird. You can feel the butterflies settling into your tummy already.

“You know, you don’t need to make me feel good, right?” You muse, stepping from foot to foot by the door, “You can just fuck me and leave.”

His head drops as he snorts through his nose, “Darlin’, I can’t in good conscience let you conceive a child if you don’t come at least twice.”

“But….”

Joel interrupts, “Answer me this, pretty girl,” He growls, “If I were Tommy right now, how many would he give you?”

You think for a moment, “Probably three,” You shrug, “Once with his fingers, once with his mouth, then he’d make me come on his cock.”

He smirks, knowing you’ve proven his point, “Well then, get that pretty ass over here and let me make you feel good.”

He’s holding out a hand for you, coaxing you to come towards him, which you take gladly, suddenly feeling like you’re in some weird form of trance. He takes your hand in his, leads to you the couch and sits down. You’re standing in front of him, his face level with your tummy. He takes those wide palms and drags them up the backs of your legs, under the material of your dress to settle on the supple skin of your ass.

“I gotta call Tommy,” You speak quietly, “Wanted to listen in.”

“You can call him in a minute,” Joel’s voice is commanding as he kisses your tummy through the material of your dress, “Let me give you one first, get you nice and relaxed, yeah?”

Joel puts his palms on your hips and turns you around, puts his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and drags them down your legs. When they pool at your feet, you step out of them, Joel’s hands keeping you balanced before he’s pulling you down onto his lap. He’s got his legs closed together, yours straddling either side of his. One of his hands is pressed on your tummy, pulling you flush back into him, the other is already snaking between your thighs, held open by his legs in the middle.

You take a deep breath, and let yourself sink into his body, broad chest acting as a weighted comfort. His lips start to trail hot kisses down the side of your neck and onto your shoulder as he runs his fingers down the seam of your pussy. Joel’s fingers dip just below, and you hear him gasp and then chuckle when you’re already wet.

“Pretty girl,” He coos into your ear, “You been thinkin’ about me? Thinkin’ about how good I made you feel last time?”

You don’t reply, just tip your head back to rest on Joel’s shoulder, sighing in pleasure as he drags his fingers through the folds of your pussy, fingers brushing ever so gently across your clit, “So fuckin’ wet for me, darlin’,” He groans, letting his fingers dip back down, “So wet, so easy for me to do this.”

He slips two fingers inside your pussy with ease, immediately hooking them in just the right way that has you keening, hips bucking in time with his slow thrusts. The hand he had on your tummy is moving downwards now too, dragging slowly across your mound until he’s got his middle finger touching your clit, two fingers still buried inside you.

“Joel – fuck – Oh God.” You moan, his fingers applying more pressure to your clit now, setting your skin aflame.

“You like that, huh?” His lips are still trailing hot kisses along the skin of your neck and shoulders, “Can feel that pretty pussy clenchin’ around my fingers already,” You can feel his smirk on your skin, “Gonna be so easy to finish you off, pretty girl.”

He proves his point in minutes. His fingers begin speeding up, thrusting into your aching heat, curling just right to his that spot inside you, whilst his finger doesn’t let up with its tight circles across your clit.

“I’m gonna – fuck Joel, I’m gonna come.”

“That’s it baby girl,” His voice is low and you can feel his solid cock under your ass already, “Let go for me.”

You do just that. Thighs shaking, Joel’s name falling from your mouth as your first orgasm slams right into you. He’s pulled his fingers from your pussy, walls clenching around nothing, but his fingers are still tracing those gentle movements along your clit, working you through the aftershocks. Once he’s sure he’s milked you for every second of your orgasm, he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Up you get.” He taps his hand on your thigh, helping you to stand.

He switches your places, you sit on the couch, legs spread with your wet cunt on display, him dropping to his knees in front of you, hooking your legs over his shoulders. You’ve barely had time to catch your breath before his mouth presses a soft kiss to your clit that has an obscene moan dropping from your lips.

“Phone him,” Joel murmurs against your skin, motioning to your mobile phone on the side table, “Bet he’d love listening to you gettin’ your pussy ate.”

You push yourself up just far enough to be able to grab your phone, fumbling with the keys as Joel continues to press teasing kisses along the skin of your thighs. You hit dial on Tommy’s number, listening as it rings three times before he picks up.

“Hey sugar.” He greets.

Joel can obviously hear his brother’s voice, because he chooses this moment to take his tongue and lick a wide stripe up your sex with the flat of his tongue, dipping between your folds to flick your clit.

“Hey baby,” You reply, looking down at Joel’s face between your legs, “Your brother is here.”

“That so?” You can hear him shuffling about on the other end, “You wanna tell me what he’s doin’?”

Joel uses one of his big hands to spread your pussy open for him, taking his tongue all the way down to your weeping core, where he literally drinks from you, lapping up your slick like he’s gone forty days and forty nights without water.

“He’s got his face between my legs Tommy,” You groan, “Eating my pussy so fucking well for me.”

“Let me hear you, sugar,” Tommy coaxes, “He makin’ you feel good?”

Joel’s tongue works its way up your pussy, tracing circles over your sensitive clit with the tip of his tongue. You let out an obscene moan down the phone, hips moving towards Joel’s face to chase more. You need more. You want more. His mouth needs to be closer to you.

“So good baby,” You moan, free hand tangling in Joel’s hair, as he focuses all the attention of his tongue to your clit, “He’s going to make me come.”

“Go on baby,” Tommy speaks, you can hear the clinking of his belt in the distance, and you know exactly what he’s going, “Let go for him.”

Joel doesn’t even have to add his fingers to the equation this time. He wraps those perfect lips around your clit and sucks, tongue still flicking desperately over the sensitive bud, and you’re gone. Body arching off the couch, thighs clasped around his face as you cry out. You can hear Tommy on the other end of the phone chuckling, coaxing you through it, telling you what a good girl you’ve been.

Joel finishes between your thighs with a final kiss to your clit before he’s pushing himself up off the floor. You’re taking deep breathes, pulling the phone from your ear to put Tommy on speaker phone, setting the phone back down on the side table while you stand, shedding your dress to leave you completely naked in front of Joel. He eyes you as he takes off his own clothes, letting out a low whistle, turning his head to the phone.

“Fuckin’ hell brother,” He comments, letting a low whistle out, “You’re a lucky son of a bitch, getting to see her naked like this every day.”

The tinny reverb of Tommy’s voice barking a laugh down the phone makes you smile. The way these two men have opened up and worshipped you, both in their own ways, but worship none the less, makes you feel like a goddess. Makes you swell with pride. You watch intently as Joel sheds the last of his clothes, letting your eyes drag over every inch of skin he reveals to you as each second passes. Then, once he’s as naked as you are, cock sprung to attention, he sits himself back down on the couch, guiding you to straddle his hips.

“Gonna take what you want from me, pretty girl?” Joel asks, looking up at you with those big brown eyes, his big hands are guiding your hips, head of his cock nudging through the wetness of your slick cunt to push ever so slightly inside you.

You let yourself sink fully down onto him, throwing your head back as that feeling off fullness you remember from last time. Joel drags his hands up your body, resting both on your ribcage, head coming forward to capture one of your tits in his mouth, sucking a nipple into his mouth to shower attention to it with his tongue.

You grind your hips into his own, reveling in the way his palms squeeze your sides, teeth sinking into the skin of your breast. You settle your arms around Joel’s neck, one hand tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck as you lean back a little, hips grinding into his. The angle has you grinding your clit into his skin in just the right way.

“Fuck,” He hisses, pulling himself away from you, “You’re gonna come again, aren’t you?” He teases, “I can feel that cunt clenching my cock baby.”

You can hear Tommy groan on the phone, “Sugar, you’re so easy to please.” He speaks out from the side table.

Joel’s hands grip your hips, guiding you to keep grinding on his cock like you are. It’s overwhelming, there is no other thought in your mind right now other than chasing the next high you can feel building in your lower body. Focused on nothing but grinding your body into Joel’s solid presence underneath you. Focused on listening to Tommy continuously praise you for being a perfect girl for them both.

“Tommy, fuck-” Joel breathes out, “I wish you could see her right now; she looks so fuckin’ good bouncing on my cock.”

“Brother, I get to see her like this all the time,” He groans, “You enjoy her for yourself right now.”

“Joel- please…” You beg, orgasm so close you could reach out and touch it, “I’m so fucking close.”

“Go on, pretty girl,” Hands on your ass to continue the guiding of your movements, “I know you can do it for me.”

And he’s right. He’s always fucking right. You grind yourself into him a few more times before white spots burst into your vision, and you feel yourself let go in a way you’ve never known before. Slick dripping down Joel’s cock, a literally scream on your lips as he pulls your body to his, finally slamming his cock into your tight cunt in earnest.

“There’s three, baby girl.” He whispers into your ear, just for you to hear. His brother doesn’t need to know he’s issued himself a personal challenge to make you come more than he does. That’s just for the two of you to know.

Your forehead is rested on his, cock stilled inside you to give you a moment to gather yourself. When you look into his eyes there’s something in those brown orbs, something daring you to lean forward. Press your lips to his own and let him devour you entirely. Let him have every piece of you. You almost do it, then you hear Tommy moan on the other end of the phone, breaking the spell between you and Joel.

Something snaps behind his eyes. He gathers you, flipping you over until he has your legs hooked around his elbows, pussy spread for him, bent almost in half before he slams his thick cock into you, setting a bruising pace that has your breath hitching in your throat. It’s so hard and intense that tears are gathering in the corners of your eyes. The sounds of Joel’s skin slapping against you and his groans, your high-pitched whines drown out any noise that Tommy might be making over the phone.

“Don’t worry,” Joel manages to breath out, seeing the tears dripping down your face, “Gonna give you what you need, hot mama.”

“Please,” You beg, the sound hitting your own ears, weak and pathetic and truly at this man’s mercy, “Fill me up Joel, fuck a baby into me.”

“Touch yourself,” He demands, “You got one more for me, I know you do, pretty girl.”

It takes all your strength to do as he asks, fingers seeking out your clit. The touch you place to it is blurring the line between pleasure and pain, but when Joel is looking down at you like he is now, watching his cock split you in half, watching your face as you moan, touching yourself, you resign yourself to keep going, chase one more high with him.

He drops one of your legs from its place hooked around his elbow, big hand coming to rest over your tummy, “Fuck Tommy,” He calls out, clearly only moments away from coming deep inside you, his fingers stroking the soft skin as his eyes train on your belly, “She’s gonna look so good when I finally knock her up for you, all swollen and perfect.”

It’s the image that finishes you off this time. You close your eyes tight, pulling your hand from your clit as soon as you’re arching up into Joel, calling his name into the dark of the room, hands gripping at his biceps, nails forming perfect half-moons in his skin.

“Good girl,” Joel praises, “Gonna fill you up now baby, you ready for me?”

“Give it to me,” you demand, hands flying to grip the cheeks of his ass, bringing him in closer to you, “Joel please.”

You don’t need to ask twice. Joel stills inside your spent cunt and you can feel his cock throbbing inside you, coating your walls with his seed. He rests his head on your chest, pulling in as much breath as he can, before he’s groaning, pulling himself out of you. He leans over and picks up the phone, taking it off speaker to hand it to you, then he disappears to the kitchen.

“You okay, sugar?” Tommy asks, voice soft at the other end of the phone.

“Yeah, I’m good,” You mumble, closing your spread legs and bringing them up to your chest, trying to keep as much of Joel’s cum inside you as possible, “Tired.”

“Did so good for us again, didn’t you?” You smile, responding with a quiet ‘mmm hmm’, “Yeah that’s right, so good for me sugar,” He clears his throat on the other end of the phone, “You make sure Joel gets you to bed alright?” Another response that’s just a noise from you, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You mumble a goodbye and hang up the phone, just in time for Joel to appear with a glass of water. He sits on the edge of the couch, helping you to sit up so you can take big gulps of the liquid. One of his hands is settled on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.

“Y’alright?” He asks.

“Yeah, I’m good,” You smile, “Tommy says you have to put me to bed.”

Joel chuckles, “Course he did,” He stands, taking the almost empty glass from your hand before he slips one arm under your knees, the other across the small of your back, lifting you easily from the couch, “Come on then.”

He walks you up the stairs and into your bedroom. You’re warm and pliant and you smile as he pulls the duvet up and over you, settling you into bed with a soft kiss pressed to your forehead, “I’ll see you in the morning, pretty girl.” He muses as you drift off to sleep.

Joel lifts himself from the bed when your breathing settles, stopping briefly to look at you from the doorway before he heads back downstairs and dresses himself. He pours himself a glass of Tommy’s finest whiskey, letting his head drop to the back of the couch. He would stay tonight, downstairs, just in case you needed someone. Just in case you woke up and needed someone to soothe you. He didn’t know how Tommy had been last time once he’d gone home but he bets you needed the comfort. Someone to tell you it would be alright, that you’d done the right thing. It takes all his strength not to stand, strip his clothes back off and settle himself in bed behind you, strong arms wrapped around you to keep you safe. Make you feel secure. He would stay here tonight, just in case you needed him.

2K notes · View notes

grimesgirll · 5 months

Text

alexandria is the break you've been yearning for since shit hit the fan.

an independent walled and gated community is exactly the place to catch your breath. the past eighteen months had been a blur of grit and gore; you deserve to decompress in a pretty house, not that you spent all of your time in your new settlement inside. you made a point to take judith on daily walks.

you're returning from one of your new routine walks to get judith down for her afternoon nap when you find olivia - the neighbor lady who ran the armory and the pantry - on the porch, greeting your name.

“hi,” you reply with a smile, bolstering the cooing baby on your hip. “what do i owe you the pleasure, olivia?”

“i’ve been meaning to get over here ever since shane brought it up to me-,” you pause. “-i wouldn’t mind having another set of hands around the armory at all, especially with the background shane mentioned you had.”

you purse your lips. “thanks. could we talk about this another time? maybe after the weekend? i’ll stop by.” you gesture to the little girl on your hip. “it’s just that i want to get her down now so her routine isn’t all out of whack later tonight.”

olivia nods, glasses bouncing a bit. “of course. come see me whenever you’re ready.”

you’re smiling and thanking her again before crossing the threshold with a huffy chest. it takes patience on your part not to slam the door but with judith in your arms, you slowly close it.

why would shane sign you up to work in the armory? is he stupid? you ponder. he didn’t even ask if you wanted to do something like that. you dismiss the thought the best you can and just focus on getting judith to sleep.

thank god for the blackout curtains jessie had sent over. judith sleeps like the dead with those things drawn.

a little rocking and the dark room do well to help the infant fall asleep in no time. that allows you to meander down the living room and hear the door swinging open.

"babe, we're back.”

you perk your head up when you see shane and rick come through the door. “hey, guys,” you forget to ask them how their day’s been when you see their new uniforms.

you have to pick up your jaw when you see the two men dressed in matching constable’s uniforms. you and shane hadn’t been dating for long when the world went to shit. he’d met you right after work before, even picked you up in the cruiser before but you forgot how strapping he looked in a uniform. brown and form fitting, you’re thanking the constable’s office inventory for stocking such flattering apparel.

you almost forget the frustration you’re harboring - the anger that had boiled, all because of how his ass looked in those brown fucking slacks.

“good to see you,” rick says with the same tone he had back on the side of the road when he helped you step back into your underwear.

“good to see you too,” you repeat, biting your lip.

a smirk appears on shane’s lips once he realizes you’re checking out their asses as you take their coats.

"why don't you head upstairs? we'll be up in a few minutes."

you nearly drop the jackets from your arms. “for what?” you ask, playing dumb.

rick is wordless and shane just smiles at you, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. “you’ll see. we’ll see you soon enough.”

the bedroom is your next destination.

you’re tiptoeing up the stairs as not to disrupt nap time. those light treading feet are carrying you straight to the bed where you crumple into the comforter.

long was your day, longer would be your night. this is by virtue of the fact that you’ll have to ask shane about why olivia was about to onboard you to work in alexandria’s armory. and you’ll probably get split in half by an eight inch cock by the end of the night. you decide to put off your conversation with shane when your mind wanders to the newly clean shaven constable downstairs.

god, did he fit those pants wonderfully.

the man had been on your mind ever since this situationship of sorts emerged between the three of you - sans labels. awkward as it seemed, given all of your histories.

and then there’s shane.

don’t get you wrong, shane would give you the world if he could. whatever it would take to keep you nice and happy and purring “yes, shane” at his every word. he goes to greater lengths not just for your safety but for your convenience.

the man who’d circled back on a run after realizing he didn’t bring back your favorite brand of tampons. then again when the tampons be found had cardboard applicators. the one who held you at night in your shared cell back at the prison, kissed you and petted your hair, nuzzling as close as possible and telling you it would be alright. the man who trusted you to take care of his baby girl.

the one who had taken the time to give you not one but multiple masterclasses on firearms, shooting, and gun maintenance. he insisted that you know how to take care of yourself if it ever came down to and it boy, had it come down to it. more than once, you’d found yourself aiming your pistol and being forced to make a split second decision. the same man embraced you and reassured you in the aftermath of your beretta’s rounds claiming your first non-walker kill.

the man who’s about to fuck you into the mattress with his best friend.

you try to hold onto that thought as you shimmy out of the blue levi’s, deserting them on the floor thoughtlessly in search something cozier. digging through shane’s newly filled dresser drawers seems like an easy enough solution.

speak of the devil, he walks in with rick while you’re appraising a pair of gray sweatpants with a georgetown insignia on them.

“thought you had your own sweats.” shane’s behind you in an instant. just like rick, he’d noticed the way your sweatshirt falls to your thighs. “why don’t you just save those for later and let me help you take the rest off, huh?”

a telltale smirk takes over your face. a slant back into shane tells him all he needs to know.

he waits to toss you over his shoulder and situate you on the bed before he's yanking your boy briefs down your legs and brushing your clit with his fat finger. it's only natural that he's chuckling into your skin when you tense beneath him. prodding and playing with your newly awakened nerves, shane still managed to signal rick over to begin a maddening campaign, attacking your flush skin with their lips.

the lips on your that skin feel so deliciously inviting that you disregard how tender they turn you.

of course, shane is the one that can’t stand to wait.

“down you go, pretty girl.”

in an instant, he’s behind you with a finger in your pussy. you want to be upset that he's not still paying attention to the blushed out surface of your body but you’re too preoccupied with the hand in between your shoulder blades, encouraging your forearms down to the mattress. shane’s maintaining his grip on your hips and propping them up to send your ass straight towards the ceiling.

the moment that you feel a warm tongue, licking painfully slowly, and thoroughly towards your center, your hips jerk. shane is already bracing them, cooing, “easy, girl,” into your thigh before continuing the languid assault on your lips.

the lips on your face are pecked, if only briefly, by your boyfriend’s former crimefighting partner. licking your lips, you’re wishing he would circle back to connect your mouths again when a sharp sting interrupts your thoughts.

“fuck!” you cry into the comforter.

the obvious culprit is already testing the skin of your ass with his palm again. another yelp has blue eyes boring down, as if trying to memorize each moment you react - so expressively - to shane’s ministrations.

“what was that for?” you question, rotating your head to stealth a glance at him.

“fun.”

you’re about to tell shane about his idea of fun before a final slap and a sudden return to teasing your core spurs you away from the thought. pressure and heat course through you; shane just raises your internal temperature with a purposeful finger. you're whimpering at just the first stretch. past your throbbing rings of muscle, shane weaves a path with a single finger.

a heaved out moan has shane licking his lips. “gettin’ worked up off my fingers, baby?”

you nod. without a doubt.

another finger continues the mission of prying your tight cunt open for the men that would be taking turns with you until you’d come all over both their cocks. knuckle deep inside of you, the pressure is going to kill you before that third finger does.

“shane,” you’re hissing when he adopts a pace that has you clawing at his two fingers. “why are you being so aggressive with your fingers?”

“weren’t you complainin’ that it was ‘too much,’” he denotes with air quotes, “last time?”

rick seems to give you some breathing room at his friend’s taunt. he slinks back like his massive cock wasn’t the reason you’d been a sobbing mess in cowgirl on top of him the night before your group had reached noah’s old community in richmond.

you’d come so pornographically hard around him that you swear it’d been in your top five orgasms. but your cervix was still shot.

rick felt guilty. so guilty that he hasn’t fucked you since. only your mouth. of course he treated you to his mouth, his perfect tongue and his hands but you crave him inside of you. the thought of it with shane’s two pronged touch has you nearly grinding up the bed.

“fuck, shane,” you’re mumbling into the comforter, fists clenching when another finger worms into you.

“you ‘bout ready, baby?” shane asks, placing a strategic stripe down your clit as he fully buries his middle three fingers in you.

“mhmm.”

“wanna ask?”

a steady sentence isn’t going to come out of your mouth with how shane’s thrusting his fingers in and out of you. “please,” you sputter when he entrenches his fingers deeper inside of you.

“what was that?” the condescension in his voice has you squelching around his fast moving fingers.

you’re blushing at rick who has a hand on his cock and is staring straight into your teary eyes. “i want you to fuck me now, shane.” you don’t break eye contact with rick. “please.”

another smack lands on your reddening backside and suddenly those pleasure granting fingers are digging into your hip and you feel shane’s girth at your entrance.

“what do you want, baby?” shane asks. “you want me to fill you up?”

“yes, i want it so bad,” you’re begging through pouted lips.

rick doesn’t miss your doe eyes or how you moan shane’s name as he fulfills your fucked out request and fills you. even someone in the hallway can hear the wet sound from shane teasing your leaking cunt.

a few experimental strokes and shane is already balls deep. he didn’t heed the same new code of chivalry rick had adopted upon finding a hint of blood on the tip of his dick. that experience made you want to pull your hair out. stupid fucking cervix, you’d thought, ruining me getting fucked. rick didn’t usually treat you to such a pounding but the road did that to one. besides, he was freshly addicted to your cunt.

the electric feeling from how he’d taken you with shane that first time reignite as your boyfriend adjusts himself to brush against your g-spot. the fucked out look on your face can’t be missed as you let shane shovel his hips into you and closer to the only finish line you’d ever had no problem crossing. just like rick had plowed you into the mattress of the barracks you’d all stayed at in norfolk.

these thoughts of rick can’t escape you - even with shane groaning your name. the swats to your ass just go straight to your cunt and do little to rouse you from your daydreaming about the man lining himself up with your mouth.

yeah, you’re out of your mind already and he doesn’t even have his dick inside of you again.

“so good for me, baby,” shane’s gasping, his hand sliding down your ass to brace your thigh and fuck you deeper. “so good for us.”

rick nods, fingers pushing your hair out of your face and letting you take your time with him in your mouth. you hollow your cheeks and rock forward with shane when he cants into you. he’s gazing down at you as if this is the prettiest he’s ever seen you.

you could keep your eyes on him forever if it weren’t for the orgasm searing through you. it’d built up as you backed into shane and imagined how full rick would have you feeling - how connected, how close you’d feel with him inside of you.

“should’ve knocked you up back at the farm.”

god, that would’ve been inconvenient. you just focus on the pleasure you’re receiving and how you’re in alexandria with two men amazingly attractive men. it’s not the time but then again, shane doesn’t give you much of a choice with how revved up this whole coming in you business seems to be getting him. you can’t lie; it’s affecting you too.

so much that you’re nearly protesting when rick withdraws his twitching cock from between your lush lips, less than when shane pulls out of you. you won’t be protesting about what comes next though.

the first time rick had fucked your pussy you’d been whining, and you’re doing the same thing now.

“you wanna get on top?” shane questions, requiring you to repeat yourself before rick leans against the headboard.

still snickering at the whine that came out of you, your boyfriend helps to lift you and lower your hips onto rick who’s sprawled on his back, bronzed curls against the propped up pillow. rick hisses when his tip makes contact with your drowning heat again.

shane doesn’t waste any time. his hands are off you so he can situate himself on the bed to accommodate the best view of you two.

unfortunately, you’re not in shane’s lap so rick has him beat for the best seat in the house. or do you hold that seat?

your boyfriend hadn’t seemed too worried about you sliding too far down onto rick but rick was. his hands are firm on your hips - holding them in a semi-permanent place, only maneuvering for you as you rotate your hips down onto him.

“rick,” you rasp, wrapping your arms around his neck. you want to hear more from him so badly - to hear him panting your name. that’s your goal when you hurry your hips against him. you can tell that he’s hesitating, holding you back at first until you wiggle enough for him to allow you to break free.

grinding onto him, you watch a puffed out series of breaths escape his mouth. not missing a beat, you reposition your hips to sink deeper, hissing with rick and leaning into him. that’s when your clit begins to explode with pleasure from the friction.

“fuck,” you’re chanting. “fuck, that’s good. feels so good. fuck. fuck, that’s perfect.”

“dirty girl.” shane is teasing.

“just feels so fuckin’ good,” you’re twisting on top of rick, angling yourself against his pulsing member to stimulate all the perfect parts of your pelvis.

“is rick fucking you good, honey?”

you nod, having been given full license to be honest about how rick is making you gush.

“how good?” shane asks, hazel eyes on you while you ride rick.

your lip quivers. you feel rick thrum inside of you. “soooo good.” you’re saying in the lust addled way only you would. “you both make me feel so on.”

shane’s cock jumps and rick is picking up the pace. whatever motion your clit’s endured against rick is nothing once he crescents his fingertips into your sides. nice and deep, rick is threatening your cervix again but you don’t need to worry because he’s just taking the scenic route to your g-spot.

the same spot that’s making your toes curl and you chant for rick. “i’m close again,” you warn him. your head is falling onto his shoulder, blocking shane from view.

“you’ve got it, almost there, sweetheart,” rick rumbles into your ear.

his now gravelly voice against your ear has your cunt tightening. teeth pressed into your shoulder, you yelp and moan when rick brushes the flesh of your skin with his teeth. the purple marks being sown onto you will bloom later on but you don’t mind. not when your legs are shaking and you’re whimpering, “god, rick, you make me feel so fucking good.”

and suddenly you’re being fucked through your orgasm face down.

“so jessie cut your hair?”

rick nods and you’re hyper aware of how short his hair is. he’s so polished too. not that it’s terribly difficult to be after traveling on the road for so long.

“i liked your long hair. you should grow it out again.”

the new constable raises an eyebrow, leaning up on his forearms to sit up. “gotta’ shape up at some point.”

you would argue but shane’s distracting you with kisses to your shoulders and promises of morning sex already. you’re not distracted enough to miss rick’s weight absent from the pliable surface.

rick rises from the bed and you whine.

“i want rick to stay.”

shane scoffs. he extends his brawny arms across the bed. “baby, there’s barely enough room in the bed for the two of us.”

you shake your head, sitting up on your knees. “i think we can make it work. please,” you take a breath. “i just feel safer with you two in bed.”

“honey, there’s no room.”

“okay, i’ll just sleep on top of him then.”

you end up basically on top of rick - not that he minds. the night is spent with cuddled up into his chest; shane cupping the occasional hand around the curve of your ass.

weirdly, you’re falling asleep in no time. the steady thrum of his heartbeat lulls you. sleeping on top of rick might have to become a part of your bedtime routine.

shane wants you to pull a hostile takeover of the armory.

you stand with your arms crossed, giving the man one of your signature frowns. "why would i want to keep an eye on olivia in the armory?"

shane looks at you as if it's obvious. "it's good to have a hand on things," he explains, sighing your name. "it's good to have someone on the inside, in case..."

"-in case what?" you question.

shane stares at his feet.

you smolder. "you seriously can't be expecting to have to seize their guns, shane. we just got here for christ's sake."

"it's not even like that, baby," shane says, trying to walk back his conspiracy plots from you. “i just would feel better having you there. besides, it’s not like it’d be all the time and you could learn more about gun storage, whatever you want now

“that doesn’t sound like whatever i want, it sounds like you’re shoving me in the armory.”

“baby, you don’t have to do anything, i’m just sayin’-,”

“i’ll work in the armory if you stop giving me shit about going hunting.”

shane frowns af you. “now, you know that’s different.”

you cross your arms. “it’s not. i need a change of scenery, maybe some greenery to be specific.”

shane presses a flexed hand against the wainscoting he’s leaned up against. he shakes his head. “maybe once we know things are stable here, but for right now these people are far less capable than we are. i’d feel better with you in the armory.”

you want to ask him to consider what you want for a change. you honestly want to tell him to go fuck himself but then you remember.

ah, the thing that you want. the man that you want. the man you can only have with shane’s smirking approval.

so you just smile, walk over and take him by surprise, planting a kiss on cheek and telling him you’ll start tomorrow. it’ll all pay off in the long run.

the welcome party is a success.

if not for the fact that shane didn’t kill spencer just for saying hello to you, then for the fact that you got trashed.

so trashed that rick had ended up hauling your ass home when you hurled in one of deanna’s planters and shane was too embroiled in a push-up contest with abraham to even think about heading home. not that shane had ended up any better. the man drank so much johnny walker that even he came home and passed out face first in the bed bedside you.

you’re hungover the next morning, so hungover that rick moved you out of shane’s bed and into his to hang off the edge and puke your guts up.

rick even roped carol into coming over to cook and watch judith while you and shane recovered.

he even brings you soup.

“damn, look who’s still out of it.”

seems shane had recovered.

“she drinks like she’s still in kappa delta.”

rick rubs a circle or two into your back. “what’d you say? you won’t puke all over your bed, will ya’?”

when you’re well enough, you patter downstairs

“you’re looking better.”

“thanks, carol,” you return her jab with a wry smile.

“so,” the gray haired woman braces her hands on the picnic table at the base of the orchard. “are you going to help me with these apricots are what?” your gaze falls from the woman to her basket and circles back to the trees overhead. “the apricots came in early here. what do you think of apricots in march?”

you shrug. “i really don’t know much about fruits,” you admit as you take the chestnut colored basket into your hand.

it’s so odd seeing carol in her little pseudo-mr. rogers act, costume and all. the cardigan and capris paint a picture of the picture homemaker - a real martha stewart type.

and one of the most tactful, five steps ahead of you types that you’d ever met.

you wonder if this carol had laid dormant for some years.

the two of you work through the trees, plucking the precious fruit that was ready for harvest and leaving the rest.

“so, you having fun playing house?”

your mouth gapes open. you nearly drop your basket and waste quite a lot of apricots.

carol snorts at you. “i’m just kidding.” she sends you a look like you’re incredulous or something. “do what you want.” you pluck an apricot from the tree before you. gossamer head tilting when your apricot picking partner speaks again. “but just keep your priorities straight.”

you stiffen. that’s not what you were expecting. maybe some more sage or cunning advice is what you thought would be coming out of her mouth. priorities? you don’t wanna think about them. the priorities that you’ve been saddled with.

you moan someone about your hangover and muddle through the rest of your apricot picking, trying to keep your mind from defining your priorities.

the two of you part when at the sidewalk in front of your porch, with her last words to you being:

“you be careful.”

“gonna have to go out and find a king sized bed if rick’s gonna be stayin’ over this often.” shane comments and rolls onto his side to face you.

you shrug. “i’m fine with the arrangement the way it is.”

“yeah? sleeping on top of rick?”

you continue brushing your hair. “beds are hard to come by, especially great gigantic sized beds.”

“i’m sure there’s a king somewhere.”

“yeah.”

shane’s eyes don’t leave you as you set your hairbrush down on the vanity and tie it back. he’s even closer once you settle into your spot on the mattress. arms clutch you into him and lazy patterns begin to materialize on your skin, from massages into the nap of your neck to a dull squeeze of your ass. it makes you feel easy - subdued almost by shane’s unhurried touch. but you’re still wound up. you don’t know how you can be anything else nowadays.

"night, baby," shane mumbles into your ear.

"night." you reply, eyes focused on the single beam of moonlight tumbling through the window.

with rick down the hall, you won’t be sleeping tonight.

191 notes · View notes

bro-atz · 8 months

Text

good knight [bro's 500 — san]

[fake relationship/forbidden love, smut, royal!au, knight!san/princess!reader]

requested by: @k-hotchoisan + 🍪

word count: 4.7k

content: smut, a lot of sexual tension... like a lot a lot, UNPROTECTED SEX (PLS WRAP UP IRL), slight breeding kink, completely consensual!

author's note: both aubs and cookie anon had really similar ideas so i decided to combine them! also, i went way too hard w this piece... it's supposed to be a drabble idk what happened 😭 the things i do for san ig ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“San, you have to help me. Please,” you begged the knight.

You were standing with him in the Great Hall, not a single other soul around you. The knights had returned from their daily rounds, and San was getting ready to head back to his quarters when you stopped him. He was the only one in the entire castle that you could trust to help you with your vision, and you hoped that if you begged enough, he would follow through and help you out.

“Princess, what you’re asking of me is too much of an encumber. There’s no way I could fulfill such a thing,” San said quietly.

“San, you’re the only one who can do this for me. You need to do it.”

“What about—”

“I’ve already considered all of the other possibilities!” you interrupted him. “I thought everything through, and the only thing I can think of is for you to take me to this stupid ball and present yourself as my lover. Please, please, please San!”

“Your highness,” San sighed softly. “I can only do so much.”

“San, please… I don’t know what else to do, and if I tell my father that I don’t want to marry the prince, then he’ll never let me step foot outside of the castle until the day of the wedding. Plus! Plus, he trusts you so much, and I don’t know who else he would listen to that would also be able to help me, and I just—”

You covered your mouth when you felt tears well up in your eyes, stifling a sob. San immediately reacted by cupping your face and drying the tears from the corners of your eyes with the pads of his thumbs.

“Princess, don’t cry,” San said, his lips nearly pulling into a painful frown. “I’ll… I’ll talk to the king, okay?”

You nodded and mouthed a small thank you to the man before he turned on his heel to go talk to the king.

“I really don’t see the need for you to go, San,” the king said gruffly. “Your job is to protect the kingdom.”

“Isn’t the princess part of the kingdom?” San pointed out.

“Well, yes… But, still. I don’t see why you need to go.”

“Your highness, your daughter is a beautiful you lady, and if you send her to this ball all alone, lord knows what’ll happen to her,” San started, hoping that scaring the king would work as a tactic since you were counting on him, after all.

“The prince will be there! She’ll be fine.”

“Yes, but what about to and from the ball? The prince won’t be able to pick her up or drop her off, and I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t trust the other kingdom to protect her just yet.”

“Oh my… You’re right. Okay, I’m entrusting you with her, then. I want you to get her there and back safely, San.”

“Yes, your highness.”

With a wave of his hand, the king dismissed San. He returned to the Great Hall where you were standing and tapping your foot nervously while anxiously biting your nails. You looked at him with expectant eyes, and he responded to you with a quick nod. Relief washed over your body, and a smile bloomed on your face. San turned around and made his way back to his quarters in a hurry as your smile made his heart nearly swoon.

San’s heart did swoon when he saw your full outfit for the ball. You had a beautiful royal purple strapless lace ballgown on, rhinestones decorating your bust, waist, and hips. You smoothed out the dress and looked down at it before looking at San and asking quietly, “Do I look alright?”

“Princess, you look so beautiful,” San said with a tiny gasp. “You’re going to be the most beautiful woman at this ball.”

You smiled shyly at the man. You knew that he was just telling you that because you were the princess, but it was still nice to hear him say that. San held his hand out for you and assisted you as you got into the carriage before sitting alongside you.

The steady clicking of the horses hooves droned on in the background as the carriage made its way along the dirt path. The clicking was so steady, in fact, that it lulled you to sleep, your eyes growing heavier with each passing second. It was only when you fully fell asleep did you rest your head on the knight’s shoulder, slightly startling the man.

San couldn’t help but observe your features. You were so beautiful when awake, so he didn’t expect you to be such a graceful sleeper as well. Your long eyelashes were so perfectly curved that it took everything in the knight to not run a finger along them, and the way your rosy lips were slightly parted as you breathed softly drove him insane. Rather than squish you— you know, as one does with cute things— San settled for brushing your hair out of your face and kissing your forehead, only to immediately freeze.

Oh shit.

That was out of bounds. He should not have done that— he was merely a knight and you were the princess! How dare he make a move on your sleeping being? Shame consumed San’s body as he recoiled, his shoulder moving slightly, making your head nearly slip from your comfortable pillow. You let out a little whine and pushed yourself closer to San, threatening the man’s heart. He froze yet again and held his breath, wondering if you were awake for that moment when he kissed your forehead, but you weren’t. You were fast asleep.

At least you were asleep, San had to keep telling himself as the long journey to the other kingdom persisted. At least you were asleep.

“Okay, just stay right by my side, San,” you instructed San as soon as you got out of the carriage.

Thanks to your amazing nap in the carriage, you were on full, high alert from the moment you arrived in the other kingdom. You linked arms with San and let him escort you into the palace where the ball was completely underway. You only clung closer to the knight as you made your way through the halls and into the Grand Hall where dozens of princes and princesses were talking, drinking, laughing, and dancing.

“What’s the plan, princess?” San asked you in a hushed voice as the two of you stepped through the threshold.

“We need to find the prince—”

“Princess Y/N! I was beginning to wonder when you would arrive!” a voice said cheerily from behind you.

Startled, you jerked away from San and turned around to face the prince you were to wed, your heart pounding like crazy as you realized that you would have to lie to the prince well before you had time to prepare yourself.

“P-prince Yeosang!” you exclaimed while nearly biting your tongue.

“Oh, and I see you’ve brought a guest,” Yeosang’s voice flattened almost immediately upon seeing the knight by your side.

Sensing your fear, San reached for your hand and held it, his fingers lacing with yours. You would think that the action would calm you down, but it only made you more flustered. Mustering up the courage within you, you cleared your throat and said, “Yeah. Actually, I need to tell you something.”

Before you could continue, Yeosang held his hand up. He didn’t need to hear it since just seeing your hand in San’s was enough to explain the situation. “Does your father know?” Yeosang asked icily.

“Yes,” you lied straight through your teeth.

“Interesting… Alright, well, enjoy the ball. I’ll see you around some time, princess.”

With that, Yeosang returned to his guests at the ball, his arm immediately wrapping around the waist of another princess. You let out a huge sigh of relief and turned to look at the knight, your eyes sparkling brilliantly as you made eye contact.

“Thank you, San!” you whispered but cheered at the same time.

Rather than wait for a response from him, you threw your arms around him and hugged him to show your appreciation. San was completely taken aback, but after a few seconds, he accepted the hug, his own arms wrapping around your body. He could faintly smell the fragrance you had used earlier that day, and he so badly wanted to bury his nose in your hair and enjoy the smell properly, but he refrained.

Little did he know that you were in the same boat, but with him and his musk. San smelled so manly and so sexy, you felt like your insides were about to start a raging fire the longer you immersed yourself in his warmth and scent. Then, you realized you had been hugging the man for quite some time, so you let go and shuffled away slightly, a light blush appearing on your cheeks. Had you looked up, you would have seen that San’s face was extremely red, and you only looked up by the time it subdued.

“We, uh,” San cleared his throat and spoke softly. “We have some time to kill before we head back… What would you like to do, princess?”

“Well, I’m not going to say no to free food and drinks,” you murmured.

Letting out a light laugh, San nodded and said, “Of course. Right this way, your highness.”

Arm wrapped loosely around your waist, San accompanied you wherever you went. He made sure to stick close to you as the night progressed, one of his hands always on you at any given moment.

The two of you were standing and watching the couples waltz on the dance floor. San refused to drink— technically, he was on the job, so he had to remain sober— while you nursed your second drink of the night. You tore your eyes from the ballroom floor and looked at the attractive knight. You thought you were subtle, but he could feel your intense gaze on him as he continued to look at the dancers. Maybe you were drunk, he told himself the longer you stared. He thought you were drunk, but you definitely were not. What kind of princess would you be if you didn’t know how to control yourself and maintain your tolerance?

“San, you’re really attractive, you know that?” you murmured.

“Princess…”

You brought your hand to his face and traced your finger over his cheekbone, along his jaw, and on his lips. You stood the tiniest bit closer to him as you then placed a thumb on his lower lip and dragged it down slightly, your nail grazing the inside of his lip. San’s heart was racing faster than a horse, and his mind was slowly beginning to melt. You looked so fucking beautiful looking up at him with those doe eyes of yours, your slightly parted lips driving him insane once again. Before his mind could completely lose a grip on reality, San grabbed your wrist and moved your hand away from his face, your arm going limp and resting by your side.

“That’s highly inappropriate, princess,” San said roughly as he remembered his station.

“San, we need to look the part,” you insisted.

“We already showed the prince.”

“What about the castle staff?”

San blinked several times before leaning in and whispering into your ear, “You’re really playing with fire right now, princess.”

You turned your head, your lips so close to brushing past his, and whispered, “Would you rather dance with me instead, Knight San?”

Holding his breath, San moved away from you, trying desperately not to show how flustered he was by your actions. He gave you a tiny nod and held his hand out for you, your hand slipping into his perfectly. He led you to the dance floor and put his arm on your waist as you placed your hand on his shoulder.

You honestly didn’t expect San to be such a great dancer. He was a knight— his heavy armor and broad build should’ve made him super stiff. But no, he was fluid, graceful, light, and everything else a dancer is. He quite literally swept you off your feet the more you danced with him. You looked at his face as he whisked you side to side, around the other couples, and through the ballroom floor. Your heart was already fluttering the more you thought about his firm, rough hand on your waist, and it only got worse when his eyes met yours. In fact, your heart was beating so rapidly that you completely missed a step. You tripped over your own dress and nearly fell backwards, but San caught you in time, his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

When he pulled you up, he held you flush against his chest. Your eyes widened as you felt him hug you the slightest bit tighter.

“Are you okay?” San whispered.

“Y-yes… I think…. I need some air.”

Brushing past San, you went straight for the palace balcony, the cool breeze in the midnight sky snapping you out of your heart-fluttering trance. That only worked for about two seconds because your mind immediately drifted back to the way San was holding you when you nearly fell. You bit your lower lip and started pacing the balcony as you tried to calm yourself down, but the more you thought about it, the more heat pooled inside you. You felt like a goddamn animal in heat with the way you were thinking about Knight San, a man that you would never, not in your dizziest daydream, be allowed to wed, let alone sleep with.

“Princess?” you heard San call for you, his foot barely through the threshold.

You turned around to face him, and San immediately stopped breathing. You seemed to be turning in slow motion, your hair swaying with the wind, and your dress briefly flourishing before settling, giving you a more than majestic feel.

San approached you slowly at first, then quickly arrived by your side, one of his hands cupping your face while the other found your waist, and he kissed you deeply, passionately. He kissed you as if his life depended on it, like if the two of you weren’t connected, the entire palace would crumble to ashes.

“Yes, Knight San?”

It was only when you called his name did San realize that he was still standing right in front of the doorframe— he hadn’t moved an inch.

“W-we should leave soon, princess,” San managed out, his throat dry as he realized his deepest and darkest desire manifested itself into a dizzy daydream.

“Okay, let’s go.”’

The ride back from the ball was hellish. Both you and San were on edge the entire ride back— not that the two of you knew that the feelings between the two of you were mutual. You were staring out the window into nothingness as it was night time and the only things you could clearly see were the moon and the stars, and San was fixated on his balled up fists in his lap, trying to extinguish the fire burning within him.

It progressively got harder for both of you when the carriage arrived at your kingdom. San got down first, and he held his hand out for you to assist you out of the carriage. But, when your skin made contact with his, you felt like your hand was on fire— he felt the exact same way. You both shared intense eye contact that said way more than either of you were willing to relinquish, the tension in the air and in your chest palpable.

“G-good night, San,” you whispered, your heart clenching at the thought of parting with the man.

“Good night, princess,” San returned in the same register, the glimmer in his eyes fading slightly.

With that, the two of you retreated back to your respective rooms, and the second you entered the castle, thunder broke out, and it started raining heavily. You jumped upon hearing the boom, the sound nearly shaking the castle. Oh, how you hated rainstorms. Rain itself was fine, but thunder and lighting? Nuh uh. You had no idea how you were going to get yourself to sleep that night.

San, stripped down to his simple cotton clothing, laid awake in his bed not because of the storm, but because of you. He rested one of his arms across his stomach to try and release the tension building up in his nethers, his other one over his forehead trying to ease his mind. Yet, he couldn’t, because his mind kept flashing to you in your dress, making his pants tighter with every memory.

Luckily for him, it was when someone suddenly knocked on the door was he able to fully calm down. He quickly made his way to the door, and upon opening the door, there was another loud boom of thunder, making the person on the other side of the door jump into his arms— making you jump into his arms.

“P-p-princess!” San exclaimed in a hushed but surprised voice. “What’re you doing here?! You’re not supposed to be here!”

“I’m s-sorry, San. I just couldn’t sl-EEP—”

There was another clap of thunder, scaring you further into his arms. You buried your face in his chest and clung to his shoulders, using him as some sort of safety shield.

San didn’t know what to think of the situation. He knew that whatever the fuck was going on was way out of bounds for someone in his station. He knew that, but in the same breath, he didn’t want to let you go. He loved the way you fit perfectly into his embrace, the way your elegant nightgown swayed when you jumped further into his arms, your trembling arms and legs begging for someone to keep you safe, so on and so forth. Dare he say it, he was in love with you, but he definitely did not dare.

Hugging you securely, San completely closed and locked the door to his room before walking you to his bed and sitting you down alongside him. “Princess, don’t be scared,” he whispered as he pulled himself away from you and brushed your hair behind your ear.

Nodding, you willingly let go of him and placed your hands flat in your lap, your fingers still slightly trembling with fear. “Sorry, I just…” you started with a heavy sigh. “I couldn’t sleep because of the rain and… And because of other things…”

“What other things?” the knight inquired.

“…I meant what I said earlier, you know.”’

San didn’t have to ask about what you were referring to. He knew exactly what you were trying to say, and while he really wanted to accept your interest in him, he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. It was not proper of him to do so, and it would never be proper of him to do so.

You knew this as well, which is why you scooted closer to San and reached for his hand. Silently, with your eyes, you told him to not resist it and just let you touch him, hold his hand, lace your fingers with his.

“Princess, you know that this isn’t right,” San tried to fight his feelings and let reasoning win, but when you rubbed circles on the back of his hand with your thumb, he felt his feelings override logic and reasoning.

“I know,” you said with a sad whisper. “But, I… I don’t want to be with anyone else. I really like you. You’re sweet, considerate, loyal, handsome, and honest, and I don’t know if there are any other princes in this entire world that share your same qualities. You’re… Perfect.”

“Princess, I’m not perfect. You’re perfect,” San reversed your compliment and unlaced his fingers with yours to cup your face. “You’re the most perfect being, and I truly would do anything to be with you—”

“Then do it.”

“W-what?”

“Be with me. Kiss me,” you leaned into him, your hand pressing into his thigh as you neared him. “Sleep with me.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Tentatively, San brought your face to his, his thumb rubbing against your ear as he kissed you softly. His hot touch on your cheek and ear only got hotter as his kisses deepened, his lips trapping yours over and over and over again. You held onto his shoulders as he brought you onto his lap, your ass rubbing against his slowly stiffening, shielded cock. He sighed blissfully in between kisses, little grunts and gasps leaving his lungs when you shifted against him just right.

And yet, while he kissed you so passionately, he was still so reserved. His tongue remained in his mouth, non-intrusive, dormant.

“San,” you breathed out as you pushed against him gently, trying to get him to listen to you. “Just let yourself go. Don’t be the self-restrained knight my father conditioned you to be. Be insatiable tonight.”

“I’m warning you— you won’t get a wink of sleep tonight then, princess,” San whispered back, his voice so low it could’ve turned into a growl.

“I’d rather you kept me up instead of the storm.”

With your blessing, San swiftly moved you so that you were laying on the bed while he hovered above you. He leaned down and kissed you once more, but this time, he did let go. His tongue pushed its way into your mouth and swirled with yours, and his hands grabbed the bottom of your nightgown and lifted it upwards, revealing the fact that you had nothing on underneath.

“You sleep without undergarments, princess?” San broke the kiss to ask you his question in shock.

“San, don’t call me princess… Call me by my name,” you told him, completely sidestepping his remark about your sleep habits.

With that sensual, low rumble of his, San uttered your name, and instantly, goosebumps covered your entire body. He sounded so incredibly sexy when he said your name like that, and it just made you want to latch onto him and never let go.

“Y/N, may I?” San asked as he slowly lowered himself, bringing his lips closer to the searing heat between your legs, his large hands gripping your thighs gently.

Hearing him asking for permission so politely while saying your name sent butterflies storming through your insides.

“May I?” San asked again, still waiting upon your response.

“Please.”

The second his tongue made contact with your folds, your fingers and toes curled into the sheets, a long pleasureful sigh leaving your lips. Your back arched as you felt his tongue press and prod into you, his hold on your thighs tightening the more he immersed himself in your wet cunt.

“Oh San… Oh! Mmm,” you did your best to keep your moans to a minimum, but the longer he spent down there, the tighter the knot in your belly became and the harder it became to suppress your noises.

You barely lasted the second San’s tongue circled around your clit and his finger entered and curled inside you. Your entire body shuddered, and you let out a little cry as you felt the tension within you snap.

“San,” you whimpered as you felt the pleasure gradually die down. “I want more…”

“As you wish,” San responded, a slight smirk on his face, turning you on all over again.

San pulled off your nightgown altogether before he slowly started undressing himself, giving you a little show as he did so. The rain was still coming down hard, and there was thunder and lightning in the distance, but you were so entranced by San that you forgot everything. However, you went from being enamored back to being fearful when he revealed the massive weapon he had been hiding under all of the armor, all of the layers. Of course, he was fully erect, so it couldn’t get any bigger than that, but it still made fear course through your veins.

“I’ll start slowly for you, and only when you feel comfortable will I go faster,” San murmured to you as he trapped your body between his arms and knees, easing a little bit of your fear.

His cock head rubbed against your sensitive clit, making you grip the sheets behind your head. Your clit was still throbbing and recovering from your orgasm just moments prior, so when you felt him rub against you like that, the pleasure just soared through you to the point that you came again, the walls of your cunt convulsing, your knees shaking.

“Alright,” you detected a hint of a chuckle behind San’s words. “I’m going to start.”

“H-hurry, San…” you whimpered, your voice trembling.

You knew San was going to be huge, and that it was going to be a tight fit, but knowing wasn’t enough. It felt like his cock was tearing you apart. You bit back a loud scream and reached for San’s arms, your nails clawing into his forearms. He was nearly balls deep inside you by the time he stopped moving, his waist pressed firmly against yours.

“You’re doing so well for me, Y/N,” San validated you with the softest yet sexiest voice you had ever heard. He leaned down and smoothed your hair back before leaving a light kiss on your lips. “So well.”

“San— Ngh!”

Your breathy moan turned into a little cry when San started moving again, his cock pulling out just as slowly as when he pushed it into you. Little dots of perspiration decorated his forehead and started rolling down the sides of his face as his gyrations started to speed up and became more and more intentional. You had to settle for biting your lower lip when San leaned back, thrusting faster and harder. His hands reached for your breasts, and he massaged them, rolling your hardening nipples in between his fingers, evoking the most erotic groans out of you.

“You’re making such lewd noises, Y/N.” San licked then bit his lower lip, his eyebrow raising slightly the more he listened to your melodic moans. “You like it that much?”

“Mmhmm— More— Ah! M-more,” you barely instructed.

The wood of the bed frame creaked as his fast, hard thrusts shifted the whole bed. His eyebrows were knitted together the more he focused on pleasuring you, sweat drops falling from his face and decorating your bare skin and the sheets below. He long foregone toying with your breasts and bent himself over you again, his body practically rolling into yours. His lips kept teasing you, brushing against yours but never fully kissing you, but when he brought them to your neck, his lips would press against your skin before biting lightly, playfully.

Then, he shifted up ever so slightly, his cock starting to rub against your G-spot and hit your cervix in every stroke. Sparks filled your vision as he kept going at the two spots over and over again. You reached for his shoulders and dug your nails into his skin harshly as you cried loudly, the rainstorm drowning out your screams.

San, feelings the walls convulse and tighten around his thick cock, felt pleasure surge through his system as well. He pulled out, but before he could cum, you shook your head and tugged his shoulders, bringing him down so his ear met your lips.

“Inside. Please.”

Shuddering, San quickly re-entered you and did as you requested, his hot load spurting into you uncontrollably. San let out the most toe-curling, pussy-clenching groan, making you thirst for the man once more. It certainly did not help when you felt his cum spill out of you when he pulled out.

When San looked down to see your red, quivering pussy dripping with his cum and your arousal fluid, he gulped and did his best to suppress his perverted desire to keep filling you up with his lineage. That lasted only several seconds because when you outstretched your arms and willed him to embrace you, you also kissed him with enough intensity to make him want to fuck you hard all over again.

“Be the reason I don’t sleep tonight, San.”

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12freddofrogs · 3 months

Text

Post-canon oneshot; gen; a family discussion which does not end with any assassinations, which is potentially a new record

Tarvek dropped the pile of papers on top of Martellus’ desk, picking up the ink pot in the same gesture to avoid it spilling.

Martellus’s quill (because of course the man still used an actual feather quill; he was too theatrical to be practical and Tarvek couldn’t even mock him for it because Martellus absolutely knew about Tarvek’s own collection) paused in midair where he had been in the middle of working. “Good morning, cousin.”

“Good morning.”

“And what’s this?” Martellus took his ink pot back to rest his quill in it.

“You tell me.”

Martellus picked up the first page, flipped through the second, and then rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so suspicious.”

“I don’t know whether I’m more offended you thought a fake wall with such an obvious trigger was enough to keep it hidden, or that your newest plan to assassinate me involved framing Cousin Elias.”

“That shelf isn’t where I keep any actual secrets; it’s just meant to be a convenient place to keep things in reach.”

“Right, the real secret desk is attached to the third storeroom on the second level, with the switch at the eighth brick to the left.” Tarvek waved his hand dismissively, and was pleased to note the flicker of annoyance in Martellus’ face. Good. “That’s not my point. Elias is an idiot.”

“Which is why he makes an excellent scapegoat.”

“Hardly a believable one.”

“It’s not like I would want to sacrifice Uncle Kurt to the Heterodyne’s vengeance.” Martellus rolled his eyes and started rearranging his papers back into order. “I’m not currently planning to have you assassinated.”

Tarvek raised an eyebrow and gestured at the papers.

The thing was, Tarvek had willingly walked into the Refuge of Storms. He and Martellus needed to make some normal, ordinary negotiations about the current treaties, and Tarvek had agreed to go visit. Martellus hadn’t actually tried anything in the year since they broke the time stop over Mechanicsburg, and although there had been the usual stream of assassins Tarvek was reasonably sure none had been from this specific cousin. They were almost getting along.

Well, the wine at dinner last night had been drugged, but to be fair Tarvek had also mixed his own poison into Martellus’s slice of an actually delightful cake. It would have been almost ruder not to have at least one poisoning. Neither had been a serious attempt.

Martellus sighed. “I’m concerned that you might have an actual accident one day.”

“Were you thinking an experiment gone wrong or perhaps a slip and fall down the stairs?”

“Either. Any. I’m not being euphemistic; I mean accident.”

Tarvek frowned. “What?”

“They happen sometimes.” Martellus spread his hands in exasperation. “Have you ever actually looked into Aunt Cathrin’s death?”

“Why bother? That was clearly Natalia’s —” Tarvek trailed off as he realised what Martellus was implying. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“You think her carriage genuinely just—”

“It has been known to happen.”

“But Natalia—”

“Genuinely mourned her.”

“You can mourn someone and still have them killed!” Tarvek protested. “She had the most to gain!”

“Firstly, the fact that someone else gained more doesn’t mean that the person with the second-most to gain couldn’t have done it,” Martellus said, infuriatingly condescending. “Or third, or just a petty grudge.”

“That I’ll concede, but—”

“And secondly, sometimes the carriage wheels are genuinely made badly, and a driver just happens to hit a pot hole at an unfortunate angle.”

It was indeed possible, but Tarvek was having trouble – although, Natalia had seemed genuinely distraught, and he remembered thinking at the time that he’d never considered her a good actress. Maybe he should send her a box of chocolates or something.

“But thank you for demonstrating my point so clearly.” Martellus tapped at the paper. “In our family honest accidents, as rare as they are, are not actually believed.”

“So you decided to frame my hypothetical, accidental death on Elias in order to—” Tarvek left the question open.

“I’m concerned that if you were to fall down the steps tomorrow, the Lady Heterodyne would methodically go through the family, one by one, removing organs and testing creative death rays, until she found someone she believed the culprit. And, unfortunately, I would be the top of the list.”

“Don’t be silly, cousin. It’s Wulfenbach who keeps torturers on his payroll, and unlike Agatha, his rooms remain in perfect working order,” Tarvek said, as if Agatha’s dungeons were not kept well prepared at all times. It wasn’t like she wanted it.

Martellus shook his head. “I’m sure between the two of them they would very successfully wipe out the entire Valois line.”

“Unlikely. Agatha likes Violetta.”

Martellus wrinkled his nose, probably irritated at the image of Violetta as the last surviving heir of the Storm King. Violetta would probably stab him for that, as if she also wouldn’t be horrified at the idea. Tarvek had once offered to help her figure out where she was in the line of inheritance, and she punched him enough times he’d burnt the calculations he’d already finished. Somewhere in the seven hundreds, although he hadn’t added the new children born since then.

The whole concept was amusing, but unrealistic. Despite everything Martellus had been around for, he’d never actually gotten to know Agatha – or maybe he understood she believed in justice, but Martellus himself didn’t fully understand what justice meant. If Tarvek died tomorrow, Agatha and Gil probably would go on a rampage to find who did it, but they wouldn’t kill anyone without proof.

He could explain that to Martellus, but Martellus having a vested interest in Tarvek staying alive was so much more useful.

“Don’t frame Elias. Aunt Henriette is a far more realistic choice.”

“Aunt Henriette has the subtlety of a rampaging construct with rayguns for arms; how is that more realistic?”

“Or, currently, the Countess of Mount Peuckert.”

“You can’t use this as an excuse to have your enemies dealt with post-mortem.”

“Why not? By definition my current enemies are the most likely to have me assassinated.” Tarvek smiled, mostly because he knew it would annoy Martellus, and turned to leave. “And I already sent a message to Agatha that you were planning to assassinate me and frame Cousin Elias, so I doubt he’s that believable anymore.”

“What?” Martellus stood up abruptly, barely catching his ink pot before it fell.

Tarvek plucked the quill from the desk for absolutely no reason other than Martellus couldn’t stop him. “I’ll go send her an update, shall I?”

“Yes. Now. Do that.”

Tarvek raised an eyebrow.

Martellus scowled. “Please.”

“Since you asked nicely.”

Martellus waited for Tarvek to leave the room before slamming his head against the back wall.

Tarvek, paused outside the door as was his usual habit, had to bite back the urge to laugh.

He really did need to write that letter. The Refuge of Storms was close to Mechanicsburg, and it would take no time at all for a horde of Jägermonsters to arrive. Tempting as it was to let them get close enough for Martellus to see, that seemed more likely to terrify the castle staff. Not to mention it would waste Agatha’s time.

Although it was nice to consider that next time Martellus started testing the boundaries or generally being obnoxious, Tarvek merely needed to fake his own death. He’d tell Agatha and Gil first, of course, they’d never forgive him if he didn’t, but they would love the chance to act the avenger. Martellus would realise it soon enough, but the lie didn’t need to last to give Martellus nightmares. If Tarvek planned it well enough, he could probably get one of his spies in the same room when Martellus heard the rumour to get a picture. Maybe come up with some excuse for it to be Violetta, she deserved it. Though she might prefer to stay with Agatha so she could help with the potential threatening. Tarvek could workshop it later.

#girl genius #Tarvek Sturmvoraus #Martellus von Blitzengaard #girl genius fanfic #girl genius fanfiction #tarvek #valois family drama #set in a nebulous post-canon period where martellus has just kind of given up / chilled out a little #12freddofrogs writes

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oftenwantedafton · 6 months

Text

Personal Space - Steve Raglan/William Afton x Female Reader

Chapter 4

Rating - Explicit

CW - none for this chapter

Also available on AO3

taglist @123124133

Steve Raglan’s work mailbox is overflowing.

He shouldn’t be surprised given how distracted he’s been lately. Case in point, he’s been standing in front of the coffee maker with absolutely zero progress made towards getting the machine up and running. Thinking about the wedding. Well, not the ceremony itself, of course; what happened after. Dancing with you. His scars touched. In the car outside your apartment. Leaning so close.

What hadn’t happened. That’s something he’s struggling not to imagine. There was no point in indulging in the fantasy of kissing you. He can’t. He won’t. It’s that simple.

“Good morning.” Your cheerful voice behind him, breaking his reverie. “I’ll go fill that if you want.” You remove the glass pot he’s still holding from his hands.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. I don’t mind.” That smile that is his ruin.

Raglan begins sifting through the stack of mail he’d dumped on his desk earlier. Glancing over to find you setting up the machine. You’d been watching him closer than he’d thought. The routine perfectly replicated. Even the correct measurements of coffee grounds. He likes it strong.

“What’s all that?” You nod towards the pile on his desk.

“The first thing on the agenda today. A bit of mail backlog to get through.”

You hum thoughtfully, still waiting by the appliance. The scent finally permeates the air. The first drops settling into the pot set on the now heated burner. You fill his mug and hand it to him wordlessly before settling behind the desk.

“Thank you.” He takes a sip. It’s brewed perfectly.

The cup now secure on the coaster, away from the mail and any potential impending disaster. Some envelopes the career counselor immediately discards without even opening. There’s no escaping junk from solicitors.

“This one looks important.” You’re holding up a large envelope, the innards braced by some sort of cardboard to keep the contents intact. He glances at the sender’s address. “You can open that if you want. It’s nothing exciting.”

“What’s NASW?”

“National Association of Social Workers. An organization you should consider joining. There are a lot of benefits. Continuing education credits which you’ll need to keep track of for your licensure. Legal and ethical support too. A good resource.” He pauses midway through tearing the flap of the envelope he’s holding to watch you carefully prise the edge open. There’s a certificate tucked in between the protective layers.

“Steve, it’s an award.”

“Yeah, I told them to mail it.” He leans over to tug on the bottom drawer of the desk. “You can add it to the collection.”

You stare open mouthed at the stack of similar accolades. “Seriously? You just dump them in a drawer?”

“I don’t have room to hang all of them. I don’t like clutter. They’re redundant anyway,” he says dismissively, resuming the revelation of the contents in his own hands. More junk, essentially. Just better disguised. He tosses it in the barrel for the shredder, feeling you staring at him. “What?”

“I would be like, so excited to get something like this.”

“Well, of course. You’re just starting out. The novelty wears off eventually.” When he realizes you’re still holding the certificate he pulls it from your fingers and drops it into the drawer unceremoniously, sliding it shut again.

“So you were excited about them in the beginning?”

“Excited probably isn’t the correct word to use, no.” He lifts another envelope. This one an inter office mailer. He has his suspicions about what this contains.

“Do you like this job?”

Steve looks at you. “It’s a decent career. A comfortable way to earn a living.”

“That not what I asked.”

He leans back in the leather chair, unwinding the last of the thread and withdrawing a stapled packet of papers. Yes, he’d been correct. “Does it really matter?”

“Yes, it does. Why are you doing it if you don’t enjoy it?”

“I just told you.”

“Did you like what you did before this better?”

His eyes snap from the pages to your face. “And what would you know about that?”

You squirm a little but maintain his gaze. “Not much. Some people mentioned you were in the restaurant business or something.”

“Gossiping,” he says disdainfully. “Who told you that?”

“I don’t remember. It just came up. That night at the bar, maybe.”

“This is precisely why I prefer to keep work and private life very well separated.”

“But what’s the big deal? I don’t get it.”

“Of course you don’t. I can only imagine what the rumor mill is circulating about us going to the wedding together,” he mutters.

“You’re ashamed of me.”

“No.”

“Then what? You said you like me. Why don’t you…”

“Why don’t I what?”

“Let yourself be happy.”

He snickers and you blush. “That’s not what you were going to say originally. If you can’t even say it…”

Your chin lifts. “Fine. Why don’t you want me?”

The older man shakes his head. “It’s not a question of wanting.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’ve already answered that as best as I’m able. You continuously pushing me is not going to obtain a different outcome.”

You finally look away, worrying your bottom lip. He signs, glancing at the papers in his hand before setting them to one side.

“What’s that?”

“Your preliminary peformance review. To determine how much longer you’re going to need training.”

“What are you going to say?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m going to need to spend some time working on it. Later.” He massages the bridge of his nose, displacing his glasses. You’ve done it again. Made him feel guilty. All because he was trying to protect you. Doing the right thing and it felt completely wrong. “I don’t get any pleasure out of arguing with you. I know you think I’m being needlessly cruel.”

“I don’t. Not most of the time, anyway.”

“Would it make you feel any better if I told you I was doing it for your benefit?”

“Absolutely not.” Your fingers stop restlessly creasing the edge of the now empty envelope. “You really suck at apologies, you know.”

“Language.”

You glance over at him. A small twitch of his lips. “You’re a jerk.” He can see you fighting not to smile back.

“Never said I wasn’t. I don’t know why you put so much effort into befriending a bitter old man.”

“You are pretty old.” Openly grinning now. “I’ll let you make it up to me.”

“How?”

“Take me out to lunch? And then we eat outside.”

“That’s it? And then I’m off the hook?”

“Maybe.”

He nods. You’re learning. “Alright. Deal.”

***

“I’ve got it. The perfect apology. We’re going to this.”

You slap a piece of paper down on the picnic table beside Steve later that afternoon.

He quickly scans over the text, squinting against the glare of the sun on the glossy paper. An advertisement for a three day conference at a hotel in Vegas. “Oh, no. No, we’re not.”

“Why not? My parents will handle my share for the hotel until I can pay them back. It’s only a couple hours away. We’ll leave on that Monday night after work. Come back Thursday evening after it’s over. If, you know, you didn’t want to enjoy the sights a little longer.”

“You already missed a day for the other seminar,” he muses after taking a sip of his drink.

“But I’m sure I’d get approved. And you must have like a zillion hours of vacation time. Do you even go on vacation?”

“Even if that’s the case, I’m not into gambling.” He pushes the paper back towards you. “Vegas really isn’t my scene.”

“Okay, fine, I’m not into gambling either. The hotel looks really nice.” You take a bite of your sub.

He frowns. “Is this what you did during your morning break today? Where did you even get this?”

“It was posted in the break room.”

He bats your hand away from his bag of chips. You’d already eaten yours on the way back from the shop. “So you stole it.”

“Borrowed it. I’ll put it back.” Reaching again.

“The answer is still no.” At odds with his surrender. You drag the bag towards you, grinning.

“What if there was an extra incentive?”

“Listening. Very doubtfully listening.”

“You could call it a birthday present. Kill two birds with one stone, get off the hook for that ahead of time.”

“When is your birthday?”

“It’s…okay it’s not for a while yet, but still. It would count.”

“I will pass on a two hour drive in the torture mobile.” Nothing but ice left in the styrofoam cup now. He sets it down with a regretful sigh.

“Well, we’d take your car.”

“Now you’re volunteering me to drive, too.”

“I’ll pay for gas.”

“That not…” He sighs again. “It’s not about travel expenses or logistics or whatever.”

“So? Why don’t you want to go?”

“Because your motivation for going has almost nothing to do with the conference. Maybe nothing at all.”

You’re blushing again. “That’s not true. I mean, maybe there’ll be something interesting.”

“Nothing would happen. Between us. You realize this, yes? I can one hundred percent guarantee it.”

“I know,” you mumble.

“Two beds. Two rooms would be better, honestly,” he mutters, crumpling the paper wrapper and shoving it back into the bag.

“Of course.”

“Assuming you’d be able to get the time off.”

“Yes.”

“And you wouldn’t be advertising this around the office.”

“Nope. I won’t tell a soul.”

“I haven’t agreed to this yet, just so we’re clear.”

“I got it.”

You smile and he already feels himself giving in.

***

Steve Raglan is driving on Interstate 15 heading south towards Nevada two weeks later with you in the passenger seat looking incredibly proud of yourself while he inwardly curses. You’re entirely too good at wearing him down. Weakening his resolve. Eroding the barrier between you that he’s constantly forced to shore up over and over.

As expected it doesn’t take long for your attention span to wander. Fiddling with the radio. Rifling through the cassette tapes he has piled in the console. He makes the mistake of sliding his sleeves up and you’re instantly focused on the scars again. Touching in ways that go beyond curiosity. He shoves the fabric back down to conceal them once more and cranks the window down further. There’s no air conditioning. The weather is already getting to that unpleasant stage of summer he despises. Just endless heat and dryness that lasts even after the sun goes down.

The career counselor stops about halfway to the destination to refuel the car and grab you both drinks. A crack in the asphalt makes you spill soda on your lap. You reach for the glove compartment in search of napkins. None. But there’s an arcade token and an old photograph inside.

Steve’s only half paying attention, concentrating on returning to the highway when he realizes what you’re holding.

The image is of a man in a yellow rabbit costume, exactly like the one pictured on the coaster in his office. The same one you’d doodled for him. It’s him. Years ago. When he’d had a different name. Standing inside the restaurant he’d owned. Next to a young girl with blonde hair. The complete polar opposite from his own appearance, taking after her mother.

“Who’s this?” The spill already forgotten, you seem focused on the aged picture.

“That’s my daughter.”

“Oh! This is that place on the coaster. The Chuck E. Cheese knockoff.” You’re examining the token now, the image of a bear carved into the surface of the coin.

“The other way around. They stole the idea,” he says, scowling.

“Is this the place you used to work at?”

“Yes,” he admits. “Put it back, please. And I’ll thank you not to reveal that to anyone at work.”

“Okay. I mean, I don’t see why it matters.” You return the items to the compartment and swing the door back up until it clicks shut.

“No, you wouldn’t. Just…leave it, please.”

“Alright.”

“I mean it. Promise me.” His eyes shift to meet yours. “Your word.”

“Yeah, okay, I won’t say anything. I promise.”

Some of the tension seems to evaporate in his shoulders. He refocuses on driving. There isn’t much scenery. A long stretch of desert. A longer stretch of silence.

That all changes when Raglan reaches the outskirts of the city. Then it’s a mass of lights and colors and sounds. People everywhere. Thankfully the hotel is nearby. He stretches when he gets out of the car. He’s hungry, tired, a little stiff from sitting for so long. That tension between you over your discovery still there. He knows he’s only making you more suspicious, but he doesn’t really have much choice. The alternative…No. He can’t tell you the truth.

He checks in. One room, two queen beds. There hadn’t been a lot of options since the room had been booked so last minute. He hands you the key card. You’re staring around the lobby, a little wide eyed. Some of your enthusiasm returning.

“You can have the shower first.” He sets his luggage on the bed closest to the window, removing clothes and a bag of toiletries. “You want to go out to eat, or just get room service for tonight?”

“Room service,” you decide immediately and he sighs inwardly. He’d been hoping you’d choose that. He’s really not up for going out.

“Pick something out and I’ll order it.”

You flip through the laminated menu on the nightstand while he hangs up his dress shirts and slacks. The clothing you’ve chosen to wear after the upcoming shower—a distressingly small pile—is something he’s sternly avoiding looking at while he orders.

Steve switches the television on for background noise. He hears you start the shower. Emerge just as the food arrives. Shorts. Tank top. Well, it was summer. Of course that’s what you’d be wearing. Some pretty lavender shade. You smell good. That fruity scent again. He’s focusing very hard on his plate. The same order for both of you. Cheeseburgers, fries. Just something simple. You’re sitting cross legged on top of the comforter. Flipping through the channels. Home renovation. A survival reality show. A recipe for some seafood and pasta dish that you clearly aren’t interested in as you quickly advance the channel again. A car commercial before an old detective show from the eighties. You shrug and drop the remote, taking a bite of your sandwich. That awkward tension from earlier still there, and now this new one, too.

The bearded man escapes to the bathroom. Takes his time in the shower, trying to relax his nerves. Looking at himself in the mirror. Pajamas that cover him from neck to ankle, concealing the scars.

You notice, commenting as soon as he returns to the bedroom. “You don’t have to cover up. It’s just us. It’s summer. Even with the AC. Come on, Steve. I doubt you’re like that at home.”

“Of course not. I live alone. There’s no one there to see.”

“I don’t care. I mean, they don’t bother me. I already know what they look like.”

He hesitates. Decides maybe just the long sleeve shirt can go. It still feels weird. Being exposed like this. He can feel your eyes on him. “Don’t stare.” He tosses one of the pillows at you lightly and it falls short, landing near your thigh.

“I’m not staring,” you protest. The credits are rolling for the show. You return fire and miss completely, landing shy of the mattress.

Steve leans over to retrieve the pillow from the carpet. “Your aim is terrible.” The pillow lands on your lap.

“Yeah, well, I’m not really trying.” You exert more force this time. Too much. It hits the side of his face and his glasses tumble off. You’re on your feet instantly, standing between the beds. “Steve, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…I didn’t break them, did I?”

“They’re fine.” He sets them on the nightstand, looking at you. “I’m fine,” he says reassuringly, then smirks. “You hit like a girl.”

“Well, fuck, I am a girl.”

His pale eyes flash. “Language,” he cautions. Long legs swing over the edge and he’s suddenly standing in front of you.

“We’re not in the office.”

“That doesn’t matter. Nice young ladies shouldn’t use vulgar language in everyday conversation,” he reprimands.

“Maybe I’m not a nice young lady. What if it’s not everyday conversation?” You challenge.

He shakes his head, sensing the shift in the mood. Dangerous. Such a dangerous game you were playing when you didn’t fully understand the rules. “Don’t.”

“Or what? What are you gonna do about it?” You reach for his bare forearms. He slips free easily, grasping yours instead. Pushing you until the backs of your knees touch the edge of the other bed. Pressing you down onto it, beneath him. Your wrists now pinned on either side of your face. His grip loosening, fingers sliding up to lace through yours.

“I told you nothing was going to happen, didn’t I?” This whispered somewhere above your cheek. It would be so easy. So, so simple to just let his mouth go where it wanted to. Where you wanted it. Your eyes so dilated, so hungry. Lips parted. Waiting for capture.

“Maybe I was hoping you were lying.”

“Not about this.” Steve forces himself to release you, climbing back off your bed and returning to his, flipping the comforter and sheet back, then turning off the lamp on his side. “Don’t stay up too late. We have to get up in the morning.” Sliding into bed, turning to face the curtain shrouded window. The television is soon switched off. The other light following. A rustling sound of you getting underneath the covers.

He absolutely despises himself.

***

There’s a hand caressing Steve’s back.

You’re in bed. In his bed, with him.

“What are you doing?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you woke me up?”

“Don’t be mad at me.”

He turns over onto his back. “I’m not mad. Stop saying that all the time.”

“You are upset. I can feel it. I hate it.” Your voice sounds so small in the darkness.

He sighs. “Why can’t you just…behave? Just go to sleep. In your own bed. Please. I’m asking nicely.”

“You know why.”

His eyes dart to the alarm clock on the nightstand. “It’s one thirty. We really are not having this conversation at this hour.”

“I just want you to hold me.”

“That is most definitely not all you want.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“So stubborn. Absolutely insufferable…”

“You don’t want to?”

“Of course I do. We’ve been over this before.” He forces his voice to be gentle. “I don’t know what you see in me. Why you’re so persistent. I’m hardly worth this fuss. I’m unkind to you.”

“Only because you’re pretending. That’s not who you really are. You’re afraid. Whatever happened to you. In your past. It’s over and done with.”

“You don’t know. You think you do, but you don’t.”

“So tell me. Or don’t. Just…be with me.”

“You make it sound so simple. So black and white. It isn’t.”

He feels you shifting beside him. Your head now resting on his chest. His arm curls around you. You fit so well. It feels…natural. Surely this was alright. Not too improper.

Maybe he can let himself have this.

***

Morning.

Steve’s forgotten to set the alarm and his internal clock is failing him. Pulling his arm through the sleeve of his shirt with the travel toothbrush still clutched between his teeth, the job half finished. Nearly colliding with you when he returns to the bathroom. You’re combing your hair. Attempting to get it styled but it’s refused to cooperate, frizzy tendrils dislodging from the gathering. You hastily tuck your sleeveless blouse into your skirt. “Toothpaste,” you say shortly, pointing to his shirt. Wetting a face cloth and scrubbing at the white stain. Making a large wet spot. Your zipper is stuck. He has to assist you. Standing side by side looking at your reflections.

“Yeah, we um…we look…” You turn to face Steve.

“Terrible. We’re so late.” He glances at his wristwatch.

“It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

He waves away your apology. “It’s okay. I don’t think the first topic was that interesting anyway. We’ll catch the next speaker.” He watches you slide into your shoes. Another piece of hair loosening. His fingers reaching for it. Tucking it behind your ear as you straighten. Dragging along your jaw. “Unless you wanted to skip it entirely.”

“And do what instead? Oh…” He pushes you back against the door.

Please don’t let this be another dream.

Your lips soft and warm against his. His hands wandering over your curves. Yours at his belt. He’s not going to stop you this time. He’s not…

Steve’s eyes open.

Damn it.

Automatically checking the time. Alarm due to go off in one minute. He hadn’t forgotten to set it. You’re still tucked against him. That part, at least, is real. He hits the snooze button the second the noise starts.

He’s going to enjoy this for as long as he can.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x you #steve raglan x reader

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m1ckeyb3rry · 5 months

Text

── PEREGRINE // THREE

Series Synopsis: The ways that you and Seishiro Nagi fall together and fall apart over the years.

Chapter Synopsis: You spend the night at May and Reo’s, and then you go to visit your parents.

Series Masterlist

Pairing(s): Nagi x Reader, Kira x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.0k

Content Warnings: unhealthy relationships, cheating, non-linear narrative, probably ooc, angst, nagi is endgame, kira sucks, alternate universe, original characters

A/N: literally twitching every time i have to write a chapter and nagi is just not in it LMAOAOA also l/n family slander is always acceptable here #iykyk

divider credits: @/benkeibear

“When do you plan on going to see your parents?” Reo said. You, May, and him were hanging out in their enormous kitchen as rain poured down outside, hammering against the windows and roof. The storm made you feel nostalgic, and you sighed wistfully as you watched the deluge.

“Probably tomorrow,” you said. “I just want to get it over with. Even without having the conversation, I know how it’s going to go. It’ll be the same as the usual, so there’s no point in delaying the inevitable.”

That probably didn’t mean much to either of the two, considering you had never divulged much to them. You had never been able to tell anyone about the details of your relationship with your parents — it was something secret and rotten that you held close to your chest, a hatred which festered in your stomach and cowered from the light, and you could not bear for anyone to see you like that.

“Do you want us to come?” May said. Although Reo had known you longer, May had always been the more perceptive between the two of them, had always been more in-tune with emotions — both her own and others’ — than anyone you had ever met.

“No, it’s okay,” you said. The last thing you needed was for your parents to see Reo, especially with his own fiancée. It would be the worst outcome, and when the situation was already bound to be so fraught, there was no sense in adding fuel to the fire.

“We’ll drop you off whenever, though,” Reo said. “That’s a promise.”

“No way,” you said. “You guys should be relaxing. The whole reason I came over early was to make things easier for you two during your wedding! I’m not about to cause extra problems. We’ll take the taxi, and then afterwards, I’ll look for wedding dress boutiques so we can book an appointment. We should probably get that over with soon, just in case it takes them time to get the fit altered.”

“If you mention my name, it’ll be finished in seconds,” Reo said dismissively. “Don’t worry about dumb stuff like that.”

“No need to brag,” you said, elbowing him in the side teasingly. “We should give them enough time to make sure the work is of the highest quality. Besides, we have to begin planning somewhere, don’t we? Might as well start with this.”

“But that’s another thing I can’t do with you guys,” he said. You could not help yourself from chuckling at the way he pouted, his eyes swimming with melodramatic tears.

“You’re seriously clingy,” you said.

“Once we’ve picked my dress, you can come help us choose the rest of the wedding party’s clothes,” May offered. “I don’t think there’s any superstition around that, is there?”

“No, it’s just that the groom isn’t supposed to see the bride’s dress until the wedding,” you said. “Everything else is alright. We can probably get the dresses and suits from the same shop, too, so we can kill two birds with one stone. Great idea, May!”

“Thanks,” May said.

“Just tell me when, and I’ll make sure Nagi is free — don’t look at me like that! You knew he was going to be the best man before accepting the maid of honor position. I warned you!” Reo said.

“I know, but I just…I mean, do you think he’s going to offer any valuable insight? Beyond saying something like ‘oh, this suit is less of a pain than that one,’” you said, pitching your voice deeper to mimic Nagi’s low, mild voice.

“He’s going to have to wear it, so his opinion is kind of relevant,” Reo said.

“What happened between you guys while we were gone, anyways?” May said. “It was pretty normal when we left, besides Kira making things kind of awkward, but after we got back from dropping him off, there was a really weird atmosphere. Did you guys talk about something?”

“Nothing in particular,” you said.

“That still means you talked,” Reo said. “May’s right. I thought you said you weren’t going to let the past impact the present, so what was that tense vibe all about?”

“I wasn’t going to,” you said. “He’s the one that brought it up!”

“Brought what up?” May said keenly. You gulped, suddenly feeling like you had walked into some kind of trap, though judging by Reo’s clueless expression, it was one that he, too, was unaware of.

“Um, just, our old animosity,” you said.

“He never disliked you, though,” Reo said. “I don’t know why he’d bring it up when he didn’t even have a problem in the first place.”

May laughed. “You hated someone who didn’t hate you back? So out of character, Y/N. What was the reason?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said. “If you must know, things were weird because neither of us knew what to discuss without you there, Reo. We don’t have that much in common. The only things are being friends with you and going to the same high school.”

“That does make sense,” Reo said. “If I swear I won’t leave you two alone again, will you be less annoyed about him coming along?”

“If that’s the best deal I’m getting, then yes, I suppose so,” you said, even though a part of you wanted to be alone with Nagi for as long as possible. You knew, though, that it was better if you weren’t. Just the thought of Ryosuke’s face was enough to convince you that this was the only path forward, or, if nothing else, the simplest.

“Consider it done,” Reo said. “Are you sleeping in the guest room tonight?”

“If you don’t mind,” you said, directing the question to both him and May alike.

“It doesn’t bother us,” he said.

“We wouldn’t have let you come over if it was an issue,” May agreed with a yawn. Even though you weren’t that tired, you knew it was late, and unlike you, they had not slept half of the day away. You wanted to keep them up, to talk to them until your throat was dry, but it would be unkind, so you pretended to yawn as well.

“We should probably get to bed, then,” you said.

“Are you sure?” Reo said. “We can stay up a little longer if you’d like.”

“Yup, we can,” May said. You smiled but shook your head.

“No, I’m really tired. I’m just going to call Chigiri so I can see how Sora is doing, and then I’ll probably sleep myself,” you said.

“Okay, if that’s how you feel,” Reo said, beckoning you after him. “I’ll show you where everything is, and you can do what you need to. But be up for breakfast, alright? I’m calling one of my chefs to cook something for us, and if you miss it, I’ll be really angry.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you said.

“I don’t have to do a lot of things, but I do them anyways. Do you know why? It’s because I can,” he said. “So I will.”

“Honestly,” you said, shaking your head. “You’re such a show-off.”

“I have to look impressive for you,” he said.

“Aren’t we past that point now?” you said, thinking back to his ridiculous antics from high school. “I agreed to be your friend a while back.”

“Old habits die hard,” he said, shrugging and sticking his tongue out at you cheekily. You did the same back.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said. “Whatever, rich boy. I’ll be up.”

“Good,” he said, patting you on the head. “Sleep well, Y/N.”

“The same to you, Reo,” you said. “Tell May, too.”

“She’ll probably be over to wish you herself,” he said.

“I’ll stay up until she does, then,” you said.

“Sounds like a plan,” he said. “See you in the morning.”

“See you.”

The familiar motions of getting ready for the night were the same no matter where you went, serving as a backdrop for your thoughts, which even now had not settled.

It had been worse than you had expected. Seeing Nagi again, being so close to him after all of this time…you thought you could handle it, but you couldn’t. You thought that by finding him again, you could reaffirm your decisions, but the only thing he had done was throw everything into a muddle. As always. Why had you expected anything different?

The rain had not abated by the time you crawled under your sheets and scrolled through your list of contacts, searching for the one you wanted. You wished it would stop. The rain meant something different to you, and for that reason, you wanted it to go away, but the weather was ignorant to your desires, and so it continued to pour.

“Hey, Y/N. Calling already?” The screen only showed the top half of Chigiri’s face; most of it was dominated by the white of his ceiling and the whirring blades of his fan. He blinked his pretty eyes at you, obviously curious about what you needed. “Is everything okay?”

“Is Sora doing alright?” you said. The camera switched to show Chigiri’s lap, which was dominated by your large white cat, who was purring to herself as he pet her.

“We’re watching TV together,” he said. “I think she likes this show.”

“Sora,” you said, your voice shaking. “Are you being perfect for Chigiri?”

“Yes, I am,” Chigiri said, doing an admittedly excellent impression of a little girl. “That was Sora, by the way. Not me.”

You sniffed. “That’s good.”

“Seriously, is something up? You’re acting a little bit freaky,” he said, the camera flipping back to its original position, though he now held it at an angle where you could see his entire face.

You hugged a pillow to your chest, resting your chin atop it when you spoke. “I don’t know.”

“Do you wanna talk about it, or is this one of those moments where I’m supposed to distract you by talking about dumb bullshit?” he said.

“The second option,” you said. You didn’t want to talk to Chigiri about it. You didn’t want to talk to anyone about it, because no one could ever know, and besides, talking about it would make it real. It would mean that you had acknowledged it, and by breathing life into something so nebulous, you ran the risk of it taking on a tangible form that would jam down your throat and wrap around your joints, halting you from moving forward as you ought to.

“Okay. Um, I went for a walk today,” he said. “It was really nice out. I wanted to run, but I decided it was probably better that I didn’t. My neighbor’s garden is flourishing — you know, he doesn’t really seem like the type to be into flower-growing, but it looks nice. Lots of roses, which is surprising, considering the whole muscle-head aesthetic he has going on. Maybe I should try to be nicer to him.”

You giggled despite yourself. “Is this the one with the orange hair who helped me carry your groceries in when you were sick? He seemed like a good person. You should be nicer to him.”

“Yes, that one. It’s not like I’m mean or anything! I just prefer minding my own business,” he said.

“If you say so,” you said. “I am surprised he’s into growing roses and flowers and whatnot, though. I would’ve thought he was exclusively into making protein powder shakes.”

”That’s what I’m saying!” he said. “I suppose everyone has many sides to them.”

“Hm,” you said. “Say, Chigiri. Can I ask you a bit of a random question?”

“If I say no, you’re going to ask anyways, aren’t you?” he said dryly.

“Yeah,” you said.

“Then what was the point of checking first?” he said.

“I knew you’d say yes,” you said. He flushed at the way you had read him so well.

“Okay, okay. What is it?” he said.

“Do you know much about Japanese soccer?” you said.

“Obviously?” he said. “Why’d you even ask that? It’s kind of a given, you know.”

“It was just a prelude. There’s a player — former player — that I was wondering if you had any thoughts on,” you said.

“Which one? If you say Kira, I’m killing you,” he said.

“No, not him. Um, Seishiro Nagi?” you said.

Chigiri raised his eyebrows. “That’s unexpected.”

“What is?” you said.

“You being interested in a player like that,” he said. “He’s Reo’s best man, isn’t he? Why don’t you ask him yourself? You guys must’ve gone to high school together.”

“I want to hear what you think,” you said. “That’s why I’m going to you. Idiot.”

“I’m flattered. Well, keep in mind that this isn’t a professional evaluation or anything; I’ve never even met him, and anyways, I’m just a failed player myself, so I’m hardly qualified to give my opinion on anything,” he said.

“That’s not true, Chigiri,” you protested.

“It is. It’s okay; there’s no need to fight about it. That’s not what we’re talking about. My thoughts on Seishiro Nagi…he was talented, and that’s a fact. If I remember correctly, they used to call him the falcon of the field, right?” he said.

“Yes, I think that’s what it was,” you said.

“He was almost unbeatable. Sure, he had a few losses, especially earlier on in his career, but for the most part, facing off against him was like a death sentence for any team that had that misfortune. A combination of unorthodox thinking and unbelievable physicality made him a genuine threat,” he said.

“I see,” you said. “I knew all of that already, though.”

“Jeez, never satisfied, huh? It’s not like I know him personally, and I was already in college by the time he started really getting big. That’s about the extent of it,” he said. “If I remember, one of my high school friends had a sister who was a fan of his for a bit, but she got over it pretty quickly, since he never went on social media or anything. Guess it’s difficult to have a parasocial relationship with someone so private.”

“Even in high school, he was that kind of guy,” you said, unable to stop yourself from grinning affectionately, though you pushed it back before Chigiri could notice. “No one knew the first thing about him. He was such a mystery.”

“Some people are into that lifestyle, I suppose,” he said. You hummed.

“Guess so,” you said.

“I don’t really know much else, Y/N, I’m sorry. You’re going to have to talk to him if you want more,” he said. Scoffing, you shook your head resolutely.

“It was just a typical curiosity,” you said. “I don’t need more than that. Thanks, Chigiri.”

“Anything for you,” he said.

“You’re making me blush,” you deadpanned.

“It’s only because your cat’s so cute,” he said. “Mind if I keep her?”

“In your dreams,” you said. “Speaking of which, I should get to bed. Talk to you later.”

“Later.”

Only a few moments elapsed between Chigiri hanging up and May knocking on your door. You knew it was her because she was light and hesitant instead of firm and sharp, the way Reo would’ve been, and also because she announced herself shortly after.

“Come in!” you said, pulling your blanket up around your shoulders.

“Are you still talking with Chigiri?” she said, flopping down on the foot of the bed.

“Obviously not,” you said, nodding towards the blank screen of your phone. “I wouldn’t have told you you could come in if I was.”

“That’s true,” she said.

“What did you need to ask?” you said. There were never any secrets between you and May. It was impossible to lie to her when you had lived together with her for years, and conversely, she could never hide her true intentions from you.

“Nothing in particular,” she said. “Just…are you sure you’re going to be okay with this whole maid of honor thing? It seems like there’s way more to your history with Nagi than I realized. If you’re uncomfortable with it, then we can figure something else out.”

“No!” you said, too quickly for it to have been a natural reaction. “No, it’s okay. We’re okay. It was just really sudden today, that’s all. I wasn’t prepared to see him again. Please, I told this to Reo and I’ll say it to you too: don’t worry about me. Your wedding is the only thing you should be thinking about, and even that shouldn’t be a cause of anxiety. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Okay, but you’re my friend, and I don’t want you to be more stressed in my place or anything,” she said slowly. “If it’s a problem, you have to tell me immediately. Reo can pay someone else to be his best man, so it’s not a huge issue.”

“It wouldn’t be fair to him,” you said. “He’s been friends with Nagi for almost as long as he’s known me. I don’t want my own issues to ruin his wedding. Really, May, thank you for the concern, but there’s not a problem at all, and even if there is, I’ll handle it.”

You mimed hitting the air, and she snorted, shaking her head condescendingly.

“What, you gonna fistfight Nagi if he bothers you too much or something?” she said.

“Yeah. You don’t think I can win?” you said.

“I mean, considering he was a professional athlete until a few years ago and you’re…you,” she said. “No.”

“You should have more faith in me,” you said. “I can totally take him on. Bam! He won’t know what hit him.”

You punched your pillow for emphasis, which drew a giggle out of her. Taking the pillow from you, she fluffed it up again before handing it back so you could lay against it.

“I’ll bet on you, then, so you had better win, or else Reo won’t let me hear the end of it for a week or more,” she said. You flexed your biceps.

“You can count on me,” you said.

“On a more serious note, though, and now that Reo’s not around, will you tell me the truth about what Nagi brought up? I know you were lying earlier, but I figured you just didn’t want to make Reo feel bad. I’m sure it must be strange for him, having his two best friends dislike each other,” she said.

You had no interest in lying to her, but you also could not tell her the entire truth, so you decided to go with a version of it all.

“The past,” you said. “I don’t know if Reo’s mentioned it, but we had a very complicated relationship back then.”

“He never elaborated, though, to be fair, I don’t think he really understood it well enough in the first place. He just said that you seemed to really hate Nagi when you all went to school together, but you never told him why,” she said.

“I was embarrassed,” you said with a shrug. “It was an embarrassing reason, and not one that a person like Reo could ever understand, so I kept it to myself. Nagi never really had any friends, bar Reo of course, so no one ever thought any less of me for it.”

“Embarrassing?” she said, and then an idea dawned her, her expression morphing into one of pure horror. “If that overgrown q-tip of a man hurt you at some point, then I don’t care about Reo’s feelings. He’s out of the wedding!”

“Overgrown — what? What are you talking about?” you said.

“You said that it was an embarrassing reason that Reo could never understand,” she said. “What would be more embarrassing than you getting rejected by Nagi of all people? And I doubt Reo’s ever been rejected in his life, unfortunately, so he definitely wouldn’t comprehend that sort of feeling. If it’s the case, then just let me know and I’ll sort things out! Reo has other friends now, so he can just have one of them be his best man. Or there’s always the paid route, like I mentioned earlier.”

“It wasn’t like that,” you said. “Also, there’s no way Reo has other friends, so please don’t lie for my sake.”

“No, he does. If you don’t believe me, just wait for the wedding — you’ll meet them there. At the least, he can always get Chigiri to do it,” she said.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “Anyways, though, it’s fine. You missed the mark this time, I’m afraid.”

“Oh. Then what was it?” she said. You smiled ruefully and shook your head.

“You wouldn’t understand, either, you know? So it’s okay. Enough of this; he knows better than to bring it up again, and I know better than to end up alone with him again,” you said.

She really was the loyal sort. It was evident in the way she hesitated before nodding, standing up with a furrow to her brow and a pensive twist to her mouth as she headed to the door.

“Y/N,” she said. “Like I said, the instant he pulls something, you tell me, alright? Before you get in a fistfight or anything ridiculous like that, come to me.”

“Got it,” you said. “I’ll remember that. Goodnight, May.”

“Goodnight.”

You wondered when it had come to be that you felt more uncomfortable with your own fiancé than anyone else. Yet it remained that being shoved in a taxi with him on the way to your childhood home was the oddest sensation you had experienced in so long that you found yourself once again longing for the days when it had been simpler, when you and him had gotten along in an easy way.

“Did you have a nice time at May and Reo’s?” Ryosuke said.

“I did,” you said. “Reo made one of his chefs come to serve us breakfast, so it was delicious.”

“It’s a good thing he’s about to be married, or I’d be jealous,” Ryosuke said. “How can a normal guy like me compete with that?”

“Stop,” you said. “He loves May. There’s no competition, and don’t say anything like that in front of my parents.”

“What?” he said in alarm. “Are there rules to this meeting? I was just planning on winging it!”

You held back the urge to groan. He could not be blamed; like Reo and May, he didn’t know what it meant for you to see your parents again, not fully. Why would he expect anything other than a normal meal at their place? But your parents weren’t that type, and if he just waltzed in and expected them to love him based on nothing but your fondness for him, then he was mistaken.

The home you had grown up in had not changed a bit in your absence. The same flowers still bloomed alongside the concrete path leading to the front door, and the bushes were still the exact emerald shade they had been on the day you had left. Foreboding crept in you as you ascended the stairs and pressed on the button for the doorbell, and you reached behind you to grab Ryosuke’s hand as footsteps approached the foyer.

“Mother,” you said when the door swung open, revealing a pair who, too, had not changed from the images of them which you held in your memories. “Father. It’s been a while.”

Your mother’s lips pressed into a thin line, and your father clenched his jaw as he regarded you and Ryosuke. For a brief moment, you thought that he would turn the two of you away, but he only glared at you for a second longer before motioning for you both to come in.

“Y/N,” your mother said. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“Did you think I’d miss the wedding?” you said.

“Wedding?” your father said.

“No need to play innocent,” you said, marveling at the nooks and crannies you had once known so intimately. “You know whose wedding I speak of.”

“It should’ve been yours,” your mother said.

“If things had gone the way you wanted, it would’ve been mine,” you agreed. “But they didn’t, and it’s not. It’s Reo and May’s.”

“There’s still time,” your father said. “They aren’t married yet. You could still—”

“When will you give up?” you said, cutting him off, squeezing Ryosuke’s hand — as much for his reassurance as your own. “I flew halfway across the world to escape you and your demands, and the first thing you do upon my return is make more? It’s shameless, father.”

“Why are you back here?” your mother said, presenting a tray filled with tea and biscuits to the two of you. You wavered before allowing yourself to pick up one of the cups, dipping a biscuit in it and chewing on it. The flavor reminded you of your childhood, immediately transporting you to the days when you had not despised your life so thoroughly and extremely. “You made your feelings quite clear when you left, so what brings you back?”

“He wanted to meet you,” you said. “Ryosuke Kira. My fiancé.”

“Hello, sir, madam,” Ryosuke said, bowing his head politely. You had to give him that — he was good at acting, and in this situation, it was a helpful attribute. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

“You seriously chose him over Reo Mikage?” your father said bluntly. “That’s a decision no one in their right mind would make.”

“Enough about Reo,” you hissed between your teeth before smiling tightly, your nails digging into the back of Ryosuke’s hand. “We aren’t here to go over that same argument. Aren’t you going to congratulate me? Your only daughter is getting married.”

“Does he have a house of his own?” your mother said.

“Yes,” you said.

“A job with a good income?” your father said.

“Well above average,” you said. “It’s secure, too.”

“Then it’s good enough,” your mother said, stiffly, insincerely. “He’s no corporate heir, but he’s a serviceable consolation prize. Congratulations, Y/N. You’ve done better for yourself than we expected.”

They didn’t ask if you loved him, or if he loved you in return, but why would they? It was unimportant. When it came to relationships and marriages, such fickle concepts as love could not be relied upon. It was the ideal that they had pounded into you from a young age: stability. Safety. It was easier to learn to love someone than it was to live a life without certainty. It was easier for you to pretend to be unaware of Ryosuke’s dalliances than it was for you to let go and live the rest of your life alone.

“I don’t think your parents liked me,” Ryosuke confessed upon entering the taxi you had called to take you back.

“Don’t take it personally,” you said. “They’re just upset that things didn’t go according to their carefully laid plans. It’s fine. I wasn’t expecting them to be happy, anyways. That went better than I anticipated, all things considered.”

“What plans?” Ryosuke said as the driver took off towards your hotel. Ryosuke would get down there, and you would continue on to the dress fitting appointment that Reo had somehow already managed to book before you had even woken up.

You weighed the merits of telling him, but came to the conclusion that it would only make things more difficult for you.

“Plans that never had a chance of success in the first place,” you said. “That’s the long and short of it. Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure,” he said. “What style of dress is May thinking of getting for the wedding party?”

“She mentioned wanting me to have a different dress than the rest of the bridesmaids, since I’m the maid of honor,” you said. “I think she wants it to be my choice.”

“How considerate of her,” Ryosuke said. “She really is such a sweet girl. And so pretty, too! She’ll make a beautiful bride.”

You thought back to what Nagi had said at dinner, your face souring as his cool, snarky tone rang in your mind. It looked like he wanted that waitress, too. And that hostess. And May. But I don’t think he’d go after her, because, y’know, Reo would be pretty mad, and he can definitely afford a better lawyer than Kira can if it comes down to it…

“Reo is lucky,” you said, though all you wanted to do was grab his face and demand he look at you. Aren’t I beautiful, too? Aren’t I sweet, too? You wanted to scream these things at him, but you feared that the answers were not ones you’d prefer, so you remained silent.

“I bet you’ll look great, too,” he said. “Make sure you pick something flattering. I want everyone to see just how amazing my fiancée is.”

“I would’ve done that regardless,” you said.

“Maybe you should FaceTime Chigiri and ask for his advice! We all know how well he can pull off a dress,” he said, snickering.

“That happened once, and you need to stop bringing it up. It wasn’t even his choice,” you said, though you could not suppress a laugh at the memory of the time that you and May had forced Chigiri into a dress so that you could sneak him into a Halloween party with you.

“As you wish,” he said. “Looks like this is my stop. Text me when you’re on the way back!”

“Okay,” you said. “Wait. Ryosuke.”

“What’s up?” he said.

“Can I, uh, send you pictures? Of my options? So you can help me choose?” you said, hating how uncertain your voice sounded, the cracking hinting at your true meaning — tell me. Tell me what I will look worthy of you in. Tell me what it is you want from me.

“Can’t you just pick on your own?” he said. “I was planning on taking a nap and then going to eat. I won’t really have time. Ask May or Reo if you’re stuck.”

It had been a foolish idea to begin with, and as the taxi you were in accelerated away from him, you cursed yourself for even trying. After all, if a simple dress would’ve been enough for your fiancé’s eyes to remain on you, then they never would’ve strayed in the first place.

taglist (comment/send an ask to be added): @mariyumemi @naatggeo @prettyarsxnist @noble-17 @rinitoshisgirl @stuckindreamland06

#nagi x reader #nagi x y/n #nagi x you #nagi seishiro #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #modern au #peregrine #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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scremogirl · 1 year

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✧✩🜚𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐂 🜸𖤐✰

Malleus realizing he has a crush on you (pt 1.)

Imma make a post with what I write for and rules stuff like that, but yes I write for twisted wonderland (everyone but Ortho and Grim; atleast romantically). Enjoy!!!

Ever since you’ve been transported to Night Raven College, your experience has been…interesting to say the least. With all the magic, over blotting, and interesting personalities in this school, you can’t help but think that what you originally thought was a dream started to feel like an unwavering reality. You couldn’t say it was to bad though, Adeuce and Grim always made you feel like you belonged. However, there was one more person that made it all worth while.

The first time he met you was a little strange to say the least. You were walking out in the woods were he usually is. He could hear you coming from a mile away, but he knew who you were and that you posed no threat. What he didn’t know is that you’d tripped on a stray stick and knocked straight into him. He was upset he couldn’t sense your presence but as you looked up at him and apologized, he realized he could let it slide.

"Y'know," Lilia begins, in a calm but sinister tone, snapping Malleus out of his thoughts. He found it sweet how the young master found someone who can hold his heart without any consequences, although he was to in denial to admit it, atleast, out loud.

“I don’t understand why you don’t just confess to them already,”

Malleus glances over his shoulder the older face with an inquisitive look; taking his eye off you and your little group trying to put out a fire grim started on the fountian in the courtyard. How the hell does that even happen? but before he has more time to dwell on the thought, Lilia continues.

“The prefect, young master, you should tell them before it’s to late”

“I have no idea what you’re taking about,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. How he imagined it in yours on the not so happy days. How’d he intertwine your fingers together, rubbing his thumb alongside it. How he’d… BUDUMP. Malleus reaches the same hand he thought about holding yours with to his chest. He glances back at you trying to keep Ace from strangling the fury felon. He smiles slightly but it drops as soon as it came when he hears Lilias small giggle. He glares but doesn’t say a word.

“All I’m saying is you’re not one to shy away from things. Besides,” he says dragging out the E.

“That fuzzy fellow in Savannaclaw has that look in his eyes,” pointing his finger to the fountain.

“What lo-“ but as he turns around the trickster is already out of sight… of course. With a sigh he turns back around to catch one last glance of you as he too needs to be somewhere else. Though, when he shifts his gaze back to your crew he finds a new addition there stopping the scuffle between the red head and the kitty. Leona Kingscolar. He observes as you thank the dorm leader, even opting to give him a hug. Your actions warranting a blush and a scold from Leona. Malleus thinks that’s a bit to much, but hey, if that was him he certainly wouldn’t be complaining.

While observing this, Malleus tightens the fist that clutched his heart earlier, a wave of emotion just hit him. He’s never felt like this before, so, what could it be. Anger? No, Malleus isn’t angry with you or his fellow student; well, just little with himself. Sad? No, Malleus knows your a naturally affectionate person. Jealous… that’s what it is. Now, he isn’t the type to get upset with you about this. He won’t avoid you are stop speaking to you, he’s way to mature for that. He reflects a little, realizing it’s not Leonas or your fault. If anything it’s his for being denial for so long, he huffs a little before letting out a soft sigh.

“Child of a Man, you are one silly creature,” his gaze drops to his feet before giving a soft smile. With that, he turns around walking back into the building. Tomorrow will be the day he finally tells you just how he feels.

Part 2 is up! Hope you all enjoyed it

-Love, Sosa❤️

#malleus x y/n #malleus x yuu #twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleus x you #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #leona x y/n #leona x yuu #✧✩🜚𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐂 🜸𖤐✰

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loveshotzz · 2 years

Text

Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Burn One Chapter Five Heaven Can Wait

Summary: Eddie’s a mess of nerves when he has to rely on Reefer Rick to make sure his first date with you goes off without a hitch.

Word count: 9.8k series masterlist

Warnings: 18 plus! It’s with great pride to finally put smut, lots of soft soul mate smut. Semi public fooling around. Eddie losing his virginity 🥲

Author’s Note: it’s finally here, the end of another series. I’m actually really sad to see this end and I just want to thank everyone who’s stuck around these last few months. I know my updates haven’t been very timely, but just know it isn’t unnoticed and it means the word to me. This was such a personal story line to me and I just wanted to create something comforting for anyone who’s been through what reader has been through. This was for you. I see you and I love you.

“Relax man, Tony’s gonna be there.” Rick’s voice wheezes from holding in his hit, lounged out on his couch he’s the look of pure relaxation. The complete opposite of his favorite drug dealing mule who towered over him pacing the shag rug in his living room

Laughing sarcastically Eddie was literally pulling out his hair. Big rings getting tangled in his locks with every nervous card of his hand. Too stoned and nerves shot, he started liking this idea less and less.

“Yeah, I don’t know if I need to jog your memory of that time you told me he was going to be at the drop point last month. I’ll give you one guess who wasn’t there? Fucking Tony. You remember who was there though? No? Let me remind you, Chief Hopper.” Eddie’s eyes look wild in their blood shot state when they meet Rick’s carefree gaze. The lack of emotion at his words is almost enough for him to fly completely off the handle.

“Look, I made the call. You and your little girlfriend are all set up.” Voice going mockingly sweet, Rick takes another long drag.

“I swear to god if I drive her to the next town over and we pull up to an abandoned drive thru theater and Tony isn’t there.” Pointing a warning finger at his dealer his threatening tone doesn’t seem to have any effect on Rick.

“He’ll be there.” He says calmly, reaching over the coffee table that separates them, exhaling through the side of his mouth he offers the joint. “I think you need this more then me man.”

Despite his better judgment, Eddie take the joint, pressing the remains to his lips he inhales one last big hit. Holding it in till he feels the burn in his lungs he exhales with a roll of his neck. Snuffing it out in one of the many empty beer cans that laid littered around his house from a party Eddie opted out the night before.

“Call him one more time after I leave.” Still irritated he starts his usual pat down before making his escape. Anything longer than thirty minutes with Rick was always pushing it.

“Aww look at you. The freak of Hawkins finally gets the girl.” Snorting at the nickname the town gave him, Eddie smacks one of the cans off the table launching it at Rick who blocks it with his arm.

“She’s not my girl yet.” Eddie tries to ignore the fluttering in his stomach at the thought of you being known as his. “Which is why I need Tony to fucking be there!” Blood boiling he could feel himself getting worked up all over again.

“Wait? You haven’t gotten laid yet? You’re doing all of this, giving Tony two-hundred dollars to run Nightmare on Elm Street for a girl you haven’t even boned yet?” Rick’s tone and face are coated in utter disbelief, Reaching over he shakes his head grabbing another rolled joint off the coffee table.

“Jesus let your body have some oxygen, yeah?” Eddie tries to ignore Rick’s comment despite it casting even more doubt in his already fragile state. “She’s special, she deserves a grand gesture or whatever the fuck you call it.” Finding his keys he waves his hand dismissively when Rick goes to offer him another hit.

“That’s how you get burned my friend, that’s how you get burned.” Blowing smoke rings out of his scruff covered mouth, Eddie can’t stop the roll of his eyes, Rick’s lifestyle not the glaring example of someone you should take advice from, and with a bachelor pad like this, definitely not romantic advice.

“Yeah, yeah sure whatever you say. Just make the call okay?” Grabbing the backpack full of his re-up, Eddie gives him one last ‘please don’t screw up’ look.

With a nod of his head and wave of his hand he was too busy taking another massive rip to verbally respond. Turning on his heel Eddie’s anxious feet already have him have way out when Rick calls out “At least get to 3rd base man!” a harsh cough ripping through his chest as Eddie slams the door.

Grumbling all the way back to his van, Eddie was more than uneasy leaving Rick and Tony in charge of making sure his first date with you went off with out a hitch. The idea hitting him in the middle of writing a campaign late one night after the Halloween party, his thoughts always somehow always finding their way back to you. He blamed it on the way you looked up at him with your big eyes, the way you really saw him with them. Accepted him. And as much as he hated to admit to himself, adored him.

He knew he wanted this to be special before he even asked you, you deserved something special. Something thought out. It might be his first date but he was more then sure it wasn’t yours. Oblivious to what he was up against from your past, he was actually happy to keep it that way.

The old abandoned drive-in theater a town over popped into his head almost immediately. Having already thought it last summer when the boys revealed they’d never seen The Dark Crystal. It used to be owned by Tony’s dad who happened to be one of Rick’s oldest customers. Tony had been the projectionist when it was still up and running keeping all the old equipment, he was always looking for a quick hustle.

It might not be a dinner at Enzo’s but it certainly cost the same. The idea of having you all to himself and away from the town that hated him was something he couldn’t pass up. Seeming like a dream that was too good to be true, it only made his anxiety worse.

Even his Uncle this morning throwing a “The girl clearly likes you, she agreed to the damn date.” When he came home to Eddie already pacing around the living room far too tired to deal with his nephews antic’s.

You had him a nervous wreck, but if you looked at him with the same eyes as last night it would all be worth it.

——

You were just as much of a mess as Eddie, the two of you just didn’t know it yet. Heavy combat boots thump loud like your heart against the linoleum floor of your kitchen. Biting at the lose skin on your thumb, you’d been pacing like this for the better half of thirty minutes. Intrusive thoughts at an all out war with your common sense, a battle of the god’s for dominance inside your head.

It was the way you missed him when he was gone that scared you more then anything. After building yourself up and closing yourself off for so long the thought of letting someone into your carefully constructed walls terrified you. Eddie’s touch the first one that didn’t make your skin feel like was searing off at contact. Actually, it was the opposite. You craved it. You craved him. Still fighting with the new feelings that you thought you’d buried deep enough to never see the light of day, you just kept trying to tell yourself that this was okay. Despite everything inside of you begging to run, you kept your feet planted.

The knock on your door makes you jump - a string of cuss words tumbling from your glossed lips. Snorting to yourself a glossed lip wasn’t even a thing you did, another new side of yourself that stupid Eddie Munson was bringing out, the annoying urge to try and impress him breaking you down. Grabbing your denim jacket and bag off the island, your shaky legs take you to the door. You give yourself a moment to catch your breath, knowing exactly what this meant for once you stepped foot over the threshold. You just weren’t ready to say it yet.

Exhaling loudly like he was holding his breath just like you, his dimpled smile takes over his whole face when you step outside. The breeze in the trees cascading wisps of his wild hair across his rosy cheeks.

“Hi.” You hate that your skin heats up at just his simple greeting, blaming the glow of the porch light for hitting his features just right.

“Hi Eddie.” Cheeks blossoming cherries, your smile is enough to make him avert his gaze.

Twisting his hands behind his back he rocks on the heels of his Reeboks, your anxiety only growing ten fold when an awkward silence settles between you. Already longing for when it was less complicated you suck your bottom lip between your teeth nervously. Maybe it’s not too late to take it all back?

“You look, you look beautiful as always.” His words are sweet but his stare is set on the chipped wood of your front porch, toeing a rogue piece with his shoe.

Despite everything screaming in your body not to put yourself out there with humor. Your desperate need to ease the tension gets the best of you. “Looking exceptionally dapper yourself Master Munson.”

Huffing out a small laugh he untwist his arms to dig his hands deep in his jean pockets. Another minute of silence, and panic really starts to set in. This was it, time to rip off the bandaid.

“If you don’t wanna do this, like go on a date that’s fine. Don’t feel like you have to or something.” You try to sound casual but even you can hear the crack in your voice. “We can just go back to being friends.”

Turning around to retreat to the safety of your home heavy ringed fingers wrap around your wrist. Clammy against your skin, he was nervous too.

“Look, - shit.”

Letting him stop you his big chocolate eyes finally meet yours with the same look he gave you under the stars the night before, and the thought of taking anything back is thrown out the door.

“I have something planned for us, something specifically for you.” Dropping his hold, big hands start to gesture with his words a tell tale sign he was letting out whatever he was keeping pent up. “ - and long story short, I’m relying on someone to make all of this work that’s less then reliable. It’s a long drive and if he doesn’t show the whole thing seems sketchy, you’d think I’m some kind of creep that just got you stoned in the middle of no where.”

Eddie was babbling now and you were realizing that every intrusive thought you had was wrong, he was teetering on the edge just like you.

A flame lighting deep inside your darkest of caves, the boy was an awkward mess because he was trying to impress you. Eddie Munson liked you enough not only to want to plan something special for you, he was an anxious wreck because he was scared he was going to fuck it up. Fire burning brighter here he was disproving every negative thought. Taking the first step off the ledge, you push up on your toes ignoring his fumbling words pressing a kiss to his stunned lips.

Frozen with his hands in mid air, it’s only when your fingers hook themselves into his belt loops that he finally relaxes into you. The warmth of his palms landing on your frost bitten cheeks, the smooth velvet of his lips molds into yours like they were meant to be there. Nudging your nose with his, Eddie’s the one who breaks the kiss. A torn look in his eyes and and obvious tent in his pants, his thumbs smooth over your cheeks when he speaks keeping you close.

“It’s a long drive and I already can’t trust Tony to be there on time, let alone wait around for me if we’re late.” His doe eyes are pleading like you wouldn’t understand, like you wouldn’t do whatever he said after kissing you like that.

“Well now Tony has to answer to both of us, so he better not fuck this up.” Eddie’s face lights up with amusement before he’s laughing boisterous and loud.

Planting one last giggling kiss on your turned up lips before he lets you go, he tugs your hand into his leading you on the familiar path to the passengers side of his van. A path that you’d take a thousand times over again if he asked.

The drive to the next town over is filled with loud laughs, stolen glances, and brushing hands. In a mess of changed tapes he didn’t even make fun of your music taste giving your his Cheshire grin before adding “A special pass for the day.” An hour feeling like minutes your eyes catch the giant metal Drive - Thru sign amongst the thick shroud of overgrown trees, wilting in the beginning of winter cold. Tarnished with auburn rust on it’s hinges, the years of harsh winters and lack of up keep getting the best of it. A man with long brown hair tied up in a pony tail paces the dirt road at the entrance. Giant metal tins and what looked like a giant camera, like the one you’d see at the movies sit at his feet.

“Wow, no shit. He actually showed.” Eddie blows out a low disbelieving whistle, shoulders finally relaxing.

It takes you a minute to realize who he’s talking about, Tony the mysterious man who had the faint of your date in his hands. Pulling over in front of him, your eyes dart between the man with the pony tail, the sign and then back to Eddie at least three times.

“Wait, this is where were going? This abandoned Drive Thru? That’s Tony?” Slowly putting the mystery together, you try to fight the excitement that’s growing inside.

“Yes and yes.” Catching the way your face lights up like the Fourth of July, he throws Tony a greeting nod while trying to hide the proud smile slowly pushing it’s way across his lips.

“Is that a projector then?!” Practically buzzing in your seat Eddie can’t help but mimic your excitement. The genuine smile on your face pretty enough to make his heart ache.

“Long story short Rick know’s a guy who know’s a guy who can run movies here privately for the right price, Tony is that guy.” The way your cheeks were pushed up, Eddie wondered if smiling that hard hurt. “And since I made you skip your night with Freddy to come watch me get decked at a party I figured it was the least I could do.”

It was the least I could do.

The idea of someone taking the time to plan something that was so specifically catered to you was beyond your comprehension. Having only asked you out last night, the realization that this has been something bouncing around in his chaotic head for almost a week was enough for the years of your carefully crafted walls to crumble at his feet.

Lacing your fingers with his, you bring his hand to your lips. Brushing them across his knuckles you watch crimson burst under his skin, coating his neck and cheeks in his obvious bashfulness.

“Best date I’ve ever been on.” Beaming up at him, you watch his lips twitch trying to fight the smile that’s threatening to take over his whole face. The dimples you’d grown so fond of peaking out despite his best efforts.

“Alright let me go deal with this asshole so he can leave us alone.” Entertained by Eddie’s permanent annoyance with this man, you watch him begrudgingly get out of the van.

Tony’s arms open wide like he’s seeing an old friend before yelling an enthusiastic “Munson!”

Waving him away with a dismissive hand, the wind catches in his long hair while he digs for something in his back pocket. Eyes squinting it doesn’t take you long to figure out it’s a wad of money when Tony starts openly counting it in front of Eddie. With both men’s voices muffled by the metal of the van, you try to figure out what was going on by their body language. Eddie’s voice getting louder clearly angry at something. Turning around with one hand on his hip, he cards an irritated hand through his hair. Eyes catching yours in the window he gives you a tight lipped smile holding up a finger, the universal symbol for one minute.

Making a big show of counting the last bill he sticks out his hand for Eddie to shake when he’s done. Staring at him unmoving and unwavering Eddie shakes his head before walking away, foot steps bringing him close enough for you to hear. “Just play the damn movie.” Before opening the door with it’s usual loud creek, a string of angry cuss words falling from under his breath when he sits back down.

“What was that about?”

Face twisted up in rage, his nostrils flare big when he directs his attention back to you.

“When I tell you I hate that guy, I mean I really hate that guy.”

As if on queue Tony walks by on his way to the giant wooden projection booth that reached over the trees, waving as he goes.

“Hate him.” Starting the van back up with a low rumble. He glares at him from the other side of the window.

—-

Hidden past the thick trees, the giant empty lot where the drive- in used to be in over run by rolling waves of tall grass. Looming over the two of you in the space where he parked his van, the one screen that was left was nothing more then a tall standing wooden fixture. With an old coat of white paint thrown over it. The paint chipped along the sides and partly in the middle revealing the wind beaten wood underneath.

Nestled in the same spot as last night in the back of his van, you watch him yell at Tony again through the open door. Testing the screen the first scene starts to play lighting up the almost completely pitch black space, the crackling of the audio starts pouring out of Eddie’s speakers drowning out the last of his argument.

Clambering back in the van with the same look of annoyance that had been set on his features, he grumbles under his breath before sinking into the space next to you. His body warmth instantly heating up the giant blanket he’d brought you both to share.

“Hope this is okay?”

“Yeah, this is perfect Eddie, I love it.” Grinning you hope your answer is enough to lift his now sour mood.

Lips twitching up at the corners you catch the dusting of his cheeks under the glow of the screen. You almost had him. Turning around he shuffles through things behind the front seats before pulling out a plastic grocery bag.

“I didn’t know what kind of candy you liked so I kinda just bought everything?” Dumping the bag all over your lap, the assortment is so big it looked like he grabbed one of each thing in the candy isle at the store. His nerves making it impossible to make a decision so he panic bought it all.

“Jesus Eddie.” Overwhelmed by the sheer selection of it all, your hands rake through it. Mike n Ikes, Snickers, Butterfinger you name it, he bought it. “Did you spend a small fortune at the Melvald’s?”

“Look I just wanted to be prepared okay?” Not wanting to tell you that Joyce was so over the moon that Eddie was even going on a date that she only charged him for half. Encouraging his erratic behavior in the name of romance.

“I think we’re more then prepared for this hour and a half movie.” Teasing him you toss a bag of peanut m&m’s at him earning you the laugh you were missing. “Again, I love it thank you.” Reaching up, you plant a lingering kiss on his cheek the action making his body tense up.

“You’re welcome.” Voice going shy, the pink coloring of his cheeks turns a deep crimson before his eyes settle back on the movie almost already forgotten.

Hands fidgeting in each other’s laps the two of you sit thigh to thigh under the covers for the first forty minutes of the movie. Feeling like you’d already been the one to keep making the first moves tonight you keep yourself firmly planted on your side. Stealing glances from the corner of your eye his stare looks distant like he was lost in thought, despite Johnny Depp being slaughtered on the screen.

The wind kicks up enough for the icy chill to break through the barriers of his van sending a quick shiver up your spine.

“Shit, are you cold?” Shuffling next to you he finally does what you’d been hoping he’d do this whole time. Wrapping his leather clad arm around you he pulls you in into his chest. The warmth radiating off of him makes your body relax and mold against him almost instantly. Nose pressed to his shirt you inhale his scent deeply before you nuzzle even closer.

It takes him a minute to relax before sinking back even deeper into the pillows. Hooking your leg over his, your cold hand finds it’s way under his shirt in search for even more warmth. Jumping when your freezing fingers meet his skin, you can’t stop the giggle that comes out at his reaction.

“Here, I am trying to be nice and this is what I get?” Teasing you for the icy intrusion he lets your hand wander across his stomach despite the more then obvious reaction it was having on his body, loving the way your nails scratched against his happy trail.

Biting back your smile you angle your head up from his chest to look at him, you’d wanted to look at him like this all night. Smiling down at you, the playful glint had returned back to his eyes. Crinkling in the corners from the upturn of his lips, he just needed you close like this.

“They’ll warm up, you’ll get used to it.” Narrowing your eyes you add the other hand, laughing when his muscles flex when he jumps again.

“You’re gonna regret that.” Giving you a warning look the hand wrapped around you back slowly slides down to your waist.

“Is that so?” Egging him on with a rake of your nails, his fingers squeeze your side in a way that has you squealing away from him.

Landing on your back with him on top of you, his relentless hands attack your sides erupting in a fit of giggles as you try to push him away.

“Eddie - stop - stop- you win! You win!” Laughing maniacally above you his fingers finally slow their assault.

When you both finally catch your breath, the position you’re in dawns on you at the same time. Static electricity cracking in the air when his finger tips trace along the side of your hips, you hold his stare.

“This okay?” His voice is quiet when he asks, eyes trained on your reactions when his hand dips under neath your shirt to trace lines across your soft stomach.

“More- more then okay.” You whisper too scared that speaking too loud would burst this new bubble you found yourselves in. “Can you kiss me?”

Eyes going big like he can’t believe that question just left your mouth, you watch multiple emotions flash across his face before he settles with a smile and a breathy ‘yeah’ bending down to collect your lips.

It’s soft at first the two of your exploring each other like you had all the time in the world. Tongues meeting in a slow dance, gripping his shirt to pull him close. When you nip at his bottom lip, his hand gets more bold. Grabbing at your sides, he squeezes at you hips. Time speeding up with your lips, the kiss starts turning desperate. His hand wanders a little more freely when he feels the spread of your legs. Testing the waters his palm slides again you denim covered heat, the sensation making you shudder a mewl vibrating in the back of your throat.

Shit- is this okay?” Breaking away to gauge your face. He’s met with your blissed out eyes.

“I’ll stop you if I don’t like something Eddie, I want you, I want this.” Cheeks heating up under his gaze, you never wanted him to stop.

His eyes search yours for any trace of hesitation, finding none when your hand covers his to lead him back to where he was.

“I want you to touch me.” If he wasn’t so focused on you he wouldn’t have heard the words leave your mouth, they were spoken so quiet.

Trying to ignore the strain in his pants, he was going to make this about you. Determined to make you feel good, he started to unbutton the top of your jeans.

“Tell me what feels good sweetheart.” His words are enough to have you flutter around nothing, the blown out look in his eyes at just touching you like this makes your head spin.

Nodding you head when he slips under your waist band, you both groan out when his fingers hit your heat.

“Oh my god. Shit.” Head going slack Eddie’s eyes close tight when one thick ringed finger slides through your wet folds. “Is it always like this?”

Not understanding how loaded of a question that was for you, it hadn’t ever been like this. Your body’s need for him surprised you every time you’d get close to him.

“For you.” Your answer is enough for him to open his eyes, he had to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

Finding your bundle of nerves he experimentally circles it with the pad of his middle finger, chocolate eyes glazing over when it makes you stutter. He could watch you like this forever if you’d let him. All huffy and clingy and it was him who was making you feel this way.

Feeling more bold, encouraged by your reactions he adds his index finger, sliding the two digits down your folds feeling them get soaked. The hardness in his jeans becoming almost painful but he couldn’t get enough. No one ever told him it felt this good, part of him thinking maybe it was just you. Hips rocking up to meet his hand, he feels the way you try to suck him in. Finger tips dancing along your fluttering entrance, he finally pushes one in.

It’s a bigger stretch then you thought, feeling the way it stings when you wrap around how thick it is.

He still the motions of his hand relishing in the way you feel around him, velvet and silk he still can’t believe this is real. Hips pushing up he takes that as his queue to keep going, slow and steady pumps he watches the faces you make every time he tries something new. His favorite when he curls his finger deep inside of you.

“God, I think I’m close Eddie.” Not expecting those words so soon, he picks up his speed repeating the motions that got you like this.

Body shaking underneath him, he watches your eyes screw shut tight when you clench around him. Feeling the way you suck him in, his moan mixes with yours at the thought of this wrapped around his dick. Twitching against his zipper, watching you come undone is almost enough for him to cum inside his pants. He’ll never get enough of you like this.

Movie long forgotten now, the two of you stay tangled together even after it ends. Kisses in the darkness wandering hands earning gasps. It’s only when the cold becomes too much that you decide it was finally enough. All nerves and jitters coming back in the overhead light of his van, no longer hidden in the darkness of the back.

———

The air in your trailer felt different after what happened at the drive-in, a thicker tension then the one you were used to having around him. Feeling it in the goosebumps on your skin, you peer over at him from the top of your refrigerator door. Legs spread wide his body looks relaxed into the couch but his nervous ticks give his calm demeanor away. Biting the nail on his thumb, his knee bounces with the anticipation eyes staying trained on whatever was playing on your TV.

“Beer okay?” Catching your gaze with a swirl of emotions behind his eyes, the look he gives you is enough to make your breath get caught in your throat. Was he feeling it too?

“Yeah, yeah that’s good for me whatever you got.” Voice thick with jitters, he lets his stare linger before moving back to the TV.

The sound of glass clinking together loudly makes you wince as you shut your fridge door a little too hard with your foot. Your clumsy clambering has Eddie’s attention back on you as you make your way back to the living room. Failing at his attempt to be a gentleman he can’t stop his eyes from roaming over your body. The memory of you writhing underneath him with his fingers buried deep inside you has replayed on a loop in his head since you left the drive - in. Catching the way you silently scold yourself, he realizes you feel just like him. All flustered nerves but no regrets.

“Baby.”

Bending over the table in front of him the new endearment startles you, almost dropping the bottles all over the black painted wood of your coffee table. Cheeks tingling you suck your bottom lip between your teeth when you look up at him. Legs spread wide -they almost cage you in, thick ringed fingers outstretched for you to take, his dimpled grin is cute enough to make your knees shake.

“That’s a new one.” You hum biting back your smile before accepting his invitation, warm palm in yours he pulls you on top of him. Knees on either side of his hips, his big hands rub up your thighs before settling on your waist tugging you closer.

“You hate it?” Leaning back against the cushions of your couch is hair spreads out in a dark chestnut crown around his head. The twinkle in his eyes makes him look almost ethereal in the dim light.

“I didn’t say that.” Walking two fingers up his chest, your other hand grips the muscles at the top of his arm leaning yourself deeper into the warmth of his body.

Squeezing your hips he watches you intently, letting you set the pace he was more then content with just having you like this, you’d already given him enough to last a lifetime. Your fingers follow a path that leads them to the dip of his chest feeling the chain beneath his shirt, before they run up the length of his neck and he outstretches it just for you. Giggling when they hit his chin, something shifts when the tips touch his lips and you wonder if he can hear your heart beat from this close.

The heat of his breath fans across your finger tips when he parts them just a little bit, your own catching in your throat. Hands sliding further down your waist he stops at the top of the back pocket of your jeans. Glassy eyes matching yours, you push your fingers forward till they meet his tongue. Plush lips wrapping around them you gasp his name unable to control the roll of your hips. Groaning around you when you slide against him, his lips let you go.

Doe eyes going big when they finally open a sheepish look takes over his features, embarrassed at the lack of self control he displayed. Hands moving back to their home on your thighs he mumbles a quiet ‘sorry’ before his cheeks brighten pink. Emboldened by his actions your small hands cover his leading them back to the curve of your ass. Applying pressure to the tops of them in an encouraging gesture to touch you how he wants, how you both want.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about Eddie.” Hands leaving his as they start to knead the soft flesh. Your greedy fingers tangle themselves in his hair tilting his head back to pepper kisses along his sharp jaw before landing softly at the corner of his turned up lips. “I liked it.”

Moaning at your answer, his rough hands drag your heat over his erection that had been pressing tight against the zipper of his jeans for the better part of an hour. More then sensitive, he hisses when you apply more pressure with another swipe of your hips. Hungry lips capture his, swiping your tongue against him for entrance you tug his curls when he grants you access.

Everything feels like too much but not enough while your tongues battle for dominance, Eddie’s sloppy kissing only sending you deeper into a lust filled frenzy. Grabbing hands and clanking teeth, your hips start to move with reverent vigor against his. Still sensitive from earlier the arousal that’s coating the inside of your panties makes each thrust smoother then the last. Nipping at his bottom lip, you drag your teeth across the plush softness before letting it go with a loud pop.

Eddie’s eyes are still closed when you’re able to pull away and finally look at him. Pink kiss swollen lips blend in with his flushed skin. Long lashes fanning across the tops of his cheeks touching the small freckles that laid hidden under his skin - only visible if you were lucky enough to get this close.

Lips pulling up in a lazy grin his eyes slowly flutter open, the blacks of his pupils taking over the deep coffee color that could make you commit crimes. The motion of your hips only slowing down, his fingers tuck themselves into the back pockets of your jeans pushing slightly using your method to encourage you not to stop. Sitting back on his lap the new angle has the hardness of his zipper hit your swollen bundle of nerves with each languid roll. Biting back your moan your fingers curl at the bottom hem of your sweater. Eye’s going big as the moon in the sky when he realizes what you’re doing, stopping everything to give you his full attention.

Opening his mouth to speak you cut him off before he has a chance.

“Before you say anything stupid and thoughtful like you don’t have to do this. I know. I want to do this and I want to do this with you okay?” Swallowing hard, the sternness in your tone leaves no room for arguing. Words getting caught in his throat, having never getting this far with a girl, besides two hours ago in the back of his van.

Pulling the thick fabric over your head you toss it to the side landing some where on your living room floor. Feeling the heat of his stare you still don’t meet his gaze when you reach around to start working on the clip of your bra. A content sigh escapes past your lips when the tightness constricting around your chest releases before throwing it in the same direction as the now growing pile of clothes.

Eddie’s fingers squeeze at your doughy flesh and a sighed ‘fuck’ leaves his mouth before you dare to look at him again. Jaw slack, his eyes are greedy in the way they take you in. Hands leaving your ass, he glides his fingers along the smooth skin of your back the tips of them grazing the dip of your spine.

Eddie’s eyes look at you with the kind of adoration that you thought was never reserved for someone like you, someone broken, someone used. Overwhelming you in the honey specks that float around in his coffee eyes. The deep color of them returning to look at you like this.

“You’re fucking breath taking baby.” The gravel in his voice shakes as if he’d just witnessed some kind of miracle and it’s enough to feel the light sting of tears at the corners of your eyes.

You can feel the rough callouses of his fingers catch against your skin as they drag up and down your back. Making their way down they brush over your ribs, shuddering at the ticklish-ness of it he catches your reaction with a smirk murmuring a quiet sorry under his breath. Settling under the dips of your arms his thumbs brush gently against the sides of your breasts. Exhaling lowly he sits in awe of you sitting in front of him like this. You were better then what his mind could’v even conjured up, he couldn’t understand how this was happening to him. How you happened to him.

“I wanna see you.” Tugging at the bottom of his shirt, he shrugs his jacket off without missing a beat. Chains and zippers landing in loud clinks next to your feet he pulls his shirt over his head with an eagerness that makes you laugh.

Goofy grin plastered on his face he tries to pull you closer before you’ve gotten a good look at him. Arms outstretched to stop him, your eyes take in this newly exposed part of him. Tattoos you didn’t know existed showing themselves for the first time. Gentle fingers trace the faded demon head that rested over his peck, before planting a soft kiss at the crook between his collar bone. Eyes following an invisible line down his chest the dark happy trail that disappears into the top of his jeans makes your hips roll again. A low groan coming from the back of his throat tightening his grip against your hips.

“You’re so handsome Eddie.” Not used to getting them very often, he tries not to fight your compliment, instead he just reaches up to place a small kiss to your pouty lips.

“I’m glad you think so sweetheart.” Chasing his lips when he goes to pull away he meets you half way just as eager to feel you pressed against him again.

Long arms wrap around you to hold you impossibly close. The feeling of moving against him like this - skin to skin makes you feel closer to the sun. Kissing as if you could become one entity, two souls meeting and connecting in time, and that still wouldn’t close enough. Not when it felt like this. It never felt like this.

“Need you.” You breathe it into him because it was already bursting from your chest.

He nods against your open mouth, sucking your bottom lip before turning you both to lay down on the empty space next to hips. Legs wrapped around his waist he nestles between your spread hips, the new angle making you both pant into each other’s kiss.

Breaking away from your mouth he nips and kisses down your jaw before sucking on the place behind your ear he’d discovered earlier today already missing the pretty noises that fell from your lips. It’s music to his ears when you do it again, smirking against the curve of your neck he makes his way down your chest. Crazy waves tickling at your skin you watch him hover over the swell of one of your breasts, a tentative tongue darting out licking your nipple that sits at attention for him. Thighs closing around his hips at the sensation your hips push up. Dark eyes look up at you from the hood of his lashes, your reaction letting him know just how much you liked it. Licking his lips he wastes no time taking the whole thing into the wet heat of his mouth.

Back arching of the couch your fingers tangle into his hair holding him close feeling the tip of his tongue swipe over the sensitive bud before sucking it hard enough for your eyes to hit the back of your head. Moaning loud enough that you hoped Wayne wasn’t home you were completely lost in him, a want filling you that you didn’t know existed anymore.

Breaking away with a low groan Eddie nips at the skin at the top of your ribs smiling against you at the squeal he gets in return. His fingers fumble with the top button of his jeans when he leans back on his haunches, cursing under his breath he lets out a satisfied ‘yes’ when he gets them undone and off his body with a tug of his zipper. Fumbling hands, and an almost black eye later when your pant leg comes off with more ease then he was expecting you both are left in nothing but your underwear.

Sliding up your body till his face hovers over yours, he nudges your nose with his before collecting your lips in a tender kiss. Pulling away he tries his best to ignore the way that you chase him for more, something that he vows he’ll never do again but he needs to tell you while he can still function. Elbows on either side of you he cups your face in his hands holding you in place, he doesn’t want you to look away. The rough pads of his thumbs trace over your cheek bones before he breathes out.

“Thank you for sharing yourself with me.”

You don’t think Eddie realizes how much that really means, or maybe he does and that’s why he said it. Whatever the reason it didn’t matter, nothing else mattered anymore except for you and the boy who was looking at you like you were the creator of his universe. Noticing how your words getting tied up in the back of your throat he nuzzles the side of your face with his nose before whispering.

“You don’t have to say anything. Just needed you to know.”

Crashing your lips hard enough to bruise against his, you try to tell him everything your feeling this way. Desperate hands at the tops of his boxers the need for him closer was all consuming, if only you could crawl under each other’s skin. Feeling how much you need him, he places a kiss on the side of your jaw before helping you remove the piece of fabric that kept the rest of him from you.

Eddie’s eyes stay trained on your face waiting for a reaction. Hard enough to be pressed against his stomach, his leaking tip looks almost red. Bigger then anything you’d ever had before you knew he was going to have to ease it in. Your fingers wrap around his length with out warning. Jumping in the palm of your hand, his neck goes slack a breathy “Shit” falling from his lips.

“That’s definitely not my hand.” Laughing he presses his forehead against yours as your wrist finds a steady pace, thumb swiping over his tip to collect the precut pooling at the top, lubricating each slow and steady pump. “Fuck - shit that feels way too fucking good.”

“Yeah?” Voice breathy and raised when it comes out, his chocolate eyes snap to yours with a warning look on his face.

“Don’t do that.” His command is followed by a loud groan when you squeeze him at the base.

“Don’t do what Eddie.” Lifting your head up you nip at the vein protruding from his neck as he struggles to keep it together on top of you.

“Seriously, I’ll cum in your - ah- fuck- in your hand.” Squeezing his eyes shut you can tell he’s trying to think of anything that would stop him from blowing his load all over you.

Feeling him twitch in your hand you slow your movements selfishly needing to feel him inside of you. Eddie exhales a loud relieved breath when you let go. Hands finding their way to the tops of your underwear, you shoving them down before kicking them off so there was nothing left between you anymore.

Eyes wandering each other bodies unabashedly, completely exposed the two of you sit there with everything on the table.

Its you who finally breaks the trance to reach out for him, one hand gripping the back of his neck he grunts into your mouth when the other wraps around the base of his cock again. Parting your legs further you guide him towards your entrance.

“Condom?” Eddie’s voice is panicked when he pulls away slightly. Scolding himself for being too scared to seem expectant, he’d left the pack Wayne bought him months ago in his room.

“Birth control.” You mumble against his mouth as his tip runs the length of your wet folds, shuddering, you swallow his moan. His hips rut slightly against you when you swipe his tip against your swollen clit a few times, catching all your breathy gasps with his own, you soak him before lining him up with your velvet walls.

“Ready?” You ask forehead to forehead he’s never looked more vulnerable.

When he gives you a nod the balls of your feet push against his lower back encouraging him to push forward. His heavy tip breaches your entrance with a long drawn out “fuck” fanning across your face when he feels the way you stretch to fit around him. Stilling his hips he waits for both of you to adjust before he pushes the rest of the way in, bottoming out the rough patch pubic hair hits against your clit.

“Eddie - fuck.” Not used to an intrusion this big your eyes roll in the back of your head. The burn of your gummy walls getting used to his size slowly turns to pleasure with each slow roll of his hips.

Feeling the way you instantly start to constrict around him Eddie’s mind starts working over time to try to stop the inevitable from happening again. The soft mewls he’s pulling from you mixed with the way you meet his hips with every thrust he knows it’s a losing fight.

“Baby - I’m sorry, I can’t stop it, you feel so good, - fuck, I’m cumming.” Burying his head in the crook of your neck Eddie’s cock twitches inside of you before you feel the warmth of his release low in your gut.

Purposely clenching around him, you could care less about his speed finding yourself addicted to the noises and the blissed out words that spill against your throat. He gives one final stutter of his hips before his body goes limp on top of you, trying to catch his breath you trace soft lines down his spine. This kind of closeness with him making your chest swell. If only if could always be like this.

“Well this is embarrassing.” His self depreciating tone breaks you out of your daze. Finally lifting his head up to meet your gaze his cheeks are set a blaze.

“I’m taking it as a compliment.” You smirk kissing the tip of his nose ignoring the way he rolls his eyes at you. “Besides you have all night to make it up to me.” Suddenly going shy despite being connected at the waist you look anywhere but his big eyes before adding. “Only if you wanna stay.”

Eddie snorts loudly in your ear before you even have a chance to second guess yourself.

“I just came in like 10 seconds and you’re asking me to not only stay but have sex with you again? Do I look like an idiot? Wait - don’t answer that.” Rambling away you could feel the the pupils in your eyes slowly turn into hearts for the boy on top of you. “Yes, god yes. I will absolutely stay.”

Spending the night with Eddie only made you want more him and you were starting to think that feeling wasn’t ever going to go away. Instead of getting lost in each other’s bodies like promised, you spent the entire time doing something even more intimate, you got lost in each other’s minds. Clothes a forgotten mess on the floor for tomorrow the two of you laid tangled on your bed. Wandering hands and gasps in between spilling secrets, and laughing fits. It was like time didn’t matter but yet there was never enough, big yawns and sleepy eyes taking over once the clock struck four.

Keeping you pressed tight against his chest, the kiss he plants on your temple melts you into him. His slow and steady breathing finally lulling you into the kind of slumber that your body had needed for years.

—-

The muted light that leaks through your blinds coats your room in a silvery haze. Eddie’s snores mixing with the pattering of rain against your window in a way that brings heavy sleep back to your eyes. The overcast skies outside make it impossible to guess what time of day it is, tucked in with him like this you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Eddie’s body warmth was keeping you protected you from the chill of the storm. The dull throb between your thighs brings you back to last night, all fumbling hands and bruising lips, your skin heats up at the thought. The urge to turn around and look at the boy who made you feel like you put the stars in the stars in the sky was too much to fight.

Star-fished next to you, one long arm lays outstretched under his pillow while the other rests palm down fingers splayed out flat against your mattress. Plush lips slightly agape the lose strands of hair that fan across his cheek tickle his nose with every breath. His usually animated face was softened with deep sleep and eyes that dance behind his closed lids, you wonder what he could be dreaming about. Silently hoping it’s you.

Scooting yourself closer, gentle finger tips brush the loose strands away from his sleep flushed face. Brows knitting together at the sensation his breathing still doesn’t falter. Tracing a line down the bridge of his nose, you dance your fingers across his high cheek bone. A low grumble rumbles deep from his chest when he finally feels your feather light touches. Turning his head into you he leans deeper into your touch placing a chaste kiss on your palm. Big bright eyes flutter open in a burst of chestnut and mahogany warmth shining against your dreary room.

“I thought I was just having a really good dream.” Voice thick with sleep he tries to clear it out with a cough. Rubbing his eyes he leans back slightly before he pulling you deep into his chest. Pressing another kiss on the crown of your head he takes you with him when he rolls onto his back. Nuzzling under his chin with one leg hooking over his waist you try to ignore the way his hard length presses against the inside of your thigh.

“Sorry, I just woke up.” His laugh is light when it falls from his mouth, no nerves or anxiety hidden behind it anymore.

Cheek pressed against the warmth of his chest you run your fingers down the valley of his pecks, following an invisible line past his belly button you watching his muscles flex under your touch. Nails dragging through the rough texture of his happy trail you feel him twitch underneath you.

“I’m sure that’s the only reason why.” Earning a genuine chuckle you bite your bottom lip in a smile before looking up at him.

“I mean, I didn’t feel like I needed to state the other obvious reason.” Meeting your playful gaze, he brushes his tips over the side of your heated face. Cupping your cheek in his big hand, the rough pad of his thumb rubs the soft skin under your eye. “But don’t think I don’t notice what you’re doing with your hand.”

Mocking him with a fake gasp only to be replaced by a very real squeal when he pulls you on top of him. Hands covering yours on his chest he peppers your face with kisses with no room for escape. Blowing a raspberry on your cheek you try and wiggle out of his grasp. Hips rolling against this, his tip swipe across your dampened slit. His naked body having the same effect on you that yours did to him.

Eyes meeting his, you watch the warmness inside them darken. Chocolate turning onyx when you do it again. Another swipe through your folds his swollen head gets caught against your clit. Body shuddering against his, he lifts his hips adding more pressure to your bundle of nerves, eyes glazing over at your reactions. All the teasing and playfulness gone, the desperate need to feel each other close becomes over powering. Bodies moving together like the push and pull of the sea, the only noises that fill the space is your needy gasps for more and the storm pattering against your window.

His hands leave yours to find purchase on your hips, pushing his head back into the comfort of his pillow watching you take what you need from him. The heavy glow from outside wraps around your silhouette like an angel sent to collect his soul. One more swipe through your slick folds his tip hits your entrance. Pushing yourself up against his chest, your straighten up. Eyes meeting his in a silent confession of love before you sink down on him.

It feels different then last night, better. Stilling your hips the two of you stop time.

Eddie stares up at you with eyes that swallow you whole, tunnel vision with you as the light that’s guiding him home. A rumble of thunder and a roll of your hips, the metal walls of your trailer shake. Moans meeting in the air like two lost friends, his fingers tighten pulling you forward bringing him deeper into him.

“Eddie, you feel so good. Shit.” Words aren’t enough when it feel like this, the swivel of your hips making you feel every inch.

“I promise -” He loses himself with each lift of your hips “Jesus, I promise you feel better.”

Hands leaving their home on his chest to cover small on top of his at your waist, with a gentle pry of his fingers he lets you guide him up your curves needing to feel him on your breasts.

“God - shit - fuck - look at you.” Mesmerized by everything about you, his warm palm has your nipples at attention when he covers them. Thick fingers squeezing hard enough for you to moan your hips stutter against his at the added sensation.

The wind kicks the rain harder against the glass in a few loud splats, the movement of your thrusts matching the strengthening of the storm outside. Feeling the flex of his hand under yours while he palms you adds more to your arousal. His hips lift off the bed to meet yours feeling you start to flutter around him. His name falling from your lips in breathy pants, your hands land back on his chest for purchase nails digging in when he swipes that spongy spot inside.

“need to kiss you.” Releasing his hard grip on your breasts, his hands make their way behind your back. Long arms wrapping around you, he pulls you forward before sitting up. Knees to the mattress on either side of his thighs the new angle has him hitting that spot he’d been teasing this whole time. Swallowing your moans in his mouth, his lips mold with yours in a determined kiss. Chests to chest, every inch of you feels connected like this. You don’t know where he begins and where you end.

Chasing his lips when he pulls away his nose nudges your cheek, wet kisses all over your sweat kissed skin. Arms constricting tighter the new hold makes you gasp when he pushes deeper, holding his position when he feels you shudder against him. Smiling against the skin in the crook of your neck, one calloused hand trails down your spine. Giving you an encouraging push to the small of your back, you feel him twitch when you snap your hips forward.

His name falls out in a breathless chant with each roll, velvet lips kissing a path up the length of your shoulder. The smoldering feeling that had settled deep in your gut slowly setting a blaze feeling your body shake with anticipation.

“How are you this beautiful?” Nipping at your jaw his hips lose their rhythm a sign he was getting there too. His words settle deep inside your swelling, dangerously close to over flowing heart. It felt like two missing puzzle pieces finding their home.

Your arms hook around his neck pulling your body impossibly close, his arms completely caging you in. The air leaves your lungs when he lifts his head, blown out love drunk eyes reeling you in. Cheeks flushed red his bangs stick to his forehead, jaw slack, he looks completely consumed by you. The tips of your noses brush with each thrust as you both try to communicate every thing your feeling without your words.

“Eddie.” He breathes in his name from your lips as he matches the whine of your hips.

“Say it baby, what it is?” Feeling the grip of your walls against him, he knew you were moments away from falling apart. With a front row seat to what he’s sure to be a cosmic event forever imprinted in his mind, he was trailing dangerously close behind.

“Don’t -“ Brows knitting together when he hits that spot deep inside of you, almost making you lose your train of thought.

“Don’t what?” His voice is gentle brings you back, words fanning against your lips.

“Don’t leave me.” The closeness of it all making you feel vulnerable enough to bare your soul.

The snap of his hips becomes just as desperate as his kiss when his lips smash into yours, doing everything he can to convey that any thought of his future will always have you. That happened the moment he met you. The girl who thinks he’s perfect.

“I’m fucking yours.”

His response is enough for a galaxy to explode behind your eyes, Eddie grounding you, centering you in a way you’ve never felt.

Fluttering with each slowed thrust, the silk of your walls wrap around him in a tight vice. Watching you come undone on top of him is enough to send him tumbling down after you. Legs shaking underneath you, he twitches before spilling deep inside coating the walls that keep begging him for more.

Nails biting into your sides, he pants into your mouth when your eyes open to watch his close tight. The force of everything almost overwhelming feeling your two worlds collide. Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, the happiness so overpowering its threatening to burst from your chest.

Slow and languid his lips move against yours when he comes back down, all sweat and tears they stain his cheeks too. The universe changing it’s orbit just for you. Not making any moves, the two of you would stay here forever, just like this if you could.

Everything leading you here felt worth it if this was the karma you got back, Eddie Munson the boy who reminded you how to smile.

—————-

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strawberrywinter4 · 6 months

Note

i saw your post about prompts!

and ooo maybe something related to sherlock's growing/settling relationship with rosie as she grows into a teen and john realising that she's much more alike mary than she thinks when she gets upset that she can't remember much about her mother. the men help her see that.

Like Mother, Like Daughter

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson & Rosie Watson

Rating: General Audience

Tags: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Post Season/Series 04, Father-Daughter Relationship, Rosie is a teenager, Teen attitude, Parentlock, Post Mary Morstan, Angst, Fluff

Thank you so, so much for this prompt, anon! I’m so sorry I didn’t get to it sooner and you were one of my first people to send in prompts. I hope this is to your liking❤️❤️

*•*•*•*

Something’s different about Rosie today, John can tell.

Maybe it’s the unsaid sense of a father or maybe it’s because the teen has displayed a frown since the moment she woke up.

John remembers wishing Rosie a good day at school when he dropped her off, students hurrying to get to their first class.

Rosie, however, only stared at the ground, ignoring John. Her blue eyes were blank, her jaw tense.

John blinked, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Hey.”

Rosie’s eyelashes fluttered as she turned to John. “Yeah?”

“You alright?”

She shrugged, and John was only happy it wasn’t an eye roll as well, a pair of gestures that the teen had acquired as the years went on. “M’fine, Dad,” she dismissed, carrying her bag and leaving John’s side before John could say anything else.

“Her menstrual cycle, maybe?” Sherlock had suggested back at 221B when John voiced his concerns. “Did she seem irate?”

“No,” John had said. “Well—god, I don’t even know. Maybe? Just… down, I guess.”

Sherlock came up behind John and soothed a loose hair on the doctor’s head. “Ask her when she gets home, then.”

John snorted. “You know how to deal with her best. You ask her.”

“John,” Sherlock said, sending him a pointed look. “Talk to her.”

The conversation replays in John’s head as he and Rosie walk home, their steps in sync.

Rosie has just turned 14, and her attitude certainly shows it. John finds that his daughter has obtained his obvious anger issues. That can cause some arguments to take place, as much as John wishes it didn’t. Or maybe it’s because she’s around the snarky detective, catching on to his sass.

John sighs through his nose. He hopes not.

Before they enter the flat, John stops her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Rosie, wait.”

Rosie stops, turning to him with a stiff shrug. “Yeah?”

John turns his head. “You sure you’re alright, darling?”

Rosie’s still for too long, her eyes never leaving John’s. “I told you, I’m fine,” she says.

“Right, well, you say that, but you don’t seem like it.”

Rosie scoffs. “Well, I don’t know what you want me to do about it. This is how I act.”

John grits his teeth. “Not usually. Usually you don’t give me an attitude.”

“I’m not giving you an attitude. I’m talking.”

John laughs humorlessly. “Rosie, this isn’t talking. This is starting an argument.”

This time, Rosie rolls her eyes. “God, I can’t get anything through with you!”

And to John’s great surprise, she barges through the door and practically stomps up the stars. John waits for another moment and soon, he registers a door slamming.

John sighs in frustration and heads up to 221B as well in a much calmer fashion. Once he steps into the living room to the flat, Sherlock turns to him where he’s conducting an experiment on the kitchen counter.

“Not good, then?” the detective asks with a quirk of a brow.

John runs a hand over his face. “No. No, not good.”

“She doesn’t like when you’re snarky back,” Sherlock murmurs, flicking a glass tube with his fingers to allow more water flow.

“I wasn’t- look, she has to learn how to dial down that attitude,” John says, leaning on the frame of the entrance to the kitchen. “I swear, it’s almost like arguing with you.”

“No. It’s like arguing with you,” Sherlock corrects. “Or Mary. Really, I can see both of you in her quite clearly.”

John grits his teeth at the comment. He looks up at the bedroom, the shut door displaying unwelcomeness. John steps forward. “Maybe I should-”

“Don’t,” Sherlock says, his eyes still on the tube. “Give her time. Allow her to cool off.”

John clenches his jaw, then nods curtly. “Yeah. Right, erm-”

In a swift movement, Sherlock turns on the stool, taking John’s sides and bringing him closer so that he’s able to stand between his legs. John releases a quiet sigh of relief at the feel of Sherlock’s hands at his sides, soothing him.

“In the research I’ve done, teenagers are prone to get angry easier,” Sherlock says.

“You’ve done research?”

“Shut up. What I’m saying is, just… be patient with her, I suppose. If you two keep bickering back and forth, it will be to no end.”

John stares at Sherlock, unable to take his eyes off this wonderful, brilliant man in front of him. “I love you,” John breathes.

Sherlock grins. “I know.”

___

Two hours pass, maybe three. John is jittering in his chair, and Sherlock is browsing his (John’s) computer leisurely for a case.

John nods, making a decision. “Right. I’m gonna go talk to her.” He stands and Sherlock’s deep voice catches him.

“Calmly,” Sherlock warns, not looking up from the screen.

John opens his mouth to say something, then decides to simply settle for a nod.

Two steps at a time, he heads up the stairs. For a while, he just stands there, fist hesitantly nearing the wooden door.

He takes a deep breath, then knocks.

Nothing.

He knocks again.

John can hear an annoyed breath from the other end of the room. Soon, Rosie opens the door, her eyes expectant. “Yes?” she asks.

John gestures into the room. “May I come in, your majesty?”

Rosie fights a grin, but quickly hides it as she steps aside. “If you want.”

John comes in and briefly admires Rosie’s room. The design has changed over the years. It used to be John’s old room and it was quite bland, but as Rosie’s gotten older, John has encouraged her to decorate it how she pleases. Now there are a few posters of celebrities (that Sherlock rolls his eyes at) and John catches that there’s even a poster of James Bond.

John’s heart swells. He made sure to introduce Rosie to the Bond films at an early age and, together, they’ve made it a tradition to have a movie night at least once a year to binge watch the films. At first, Sherlock refused to partake in it. But when Rosie gave him her big blue eyes, silently pleading that he join them, Sherlock sighed in defeat, taking a seat next to them on the sofa.

John sucks in a breath, breaking his thoughts. He turns to Rosie, his eyes now filling with concern. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong now?”

Rosie looks down, fiddling her fingers. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Rosie,” John says gently. “Come on. You don’t have to lie about this.”

Rosie stares at him, then seems to make a decision. She goes across the room, opening a drawer and pulling out a deck of photographs.

John doesn’t have to see them to know what they are.

“I didn’t mean to snoop,” Rosie claims nervously, stepping forward as she looks down at the pictures of her mother on her wedding day. “But… I mean- I saw the photo album in the corner of your room and- and I couldn’t help but look… keep them. I promise I’ll put them all back, but I just wanted to look, and-”

“Rosie,” John says. He sighs, putting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright, darling. It- I knew you’d be curious someday.”

Rosie released a trembling breath. John’s heart breaks. “Why don’t we talk about Mum?” she asks.

John bites down hard on his inner cheek. “You know it’s a sensitive subject. You know how she died.”

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t talk about her,” Rosie counters, her voice cracking.

John squeezes her shoulder, then leads them both to sit on the bed. “I know,” he says. “I know and I’m… so sorry. I just- there’s so much about your mother that- that’s not… I just don’t want you to see her in a bad light.”

“Then… at least tell me if- if I’m like her,” Rosie pleads.

“Oh, darling, of course you are,” John reassures. “You’re a spitting image of her.”

“Could you just- tell me about her? Tell me what she’s like?”

“Well, she was-”

“I want Sherlock to be here,” Rosie interrupts, her eyes desperate.

John pauses. He quickly recovers and nods. “Yeah… yeah, ‘course.”

Just then, Sherlock opens the door. He sniffs and John frowns. “You summoned me,” Sherlock says as he shuts the door behind him.

“Sherlock, how many times do I have to remind you not to listen in on conversations?” John says with gritted teeth as Rose laughs.

“You can hardly blame me, John,” Sherlock defends as he sits on the other side of Rosie.

“I can and I most certainly will.”

Sherlock’s eyes focus on Rosie. “What would you like to know?”

Rosie looks down as she thinks. “It’s selfish.”

“Bee,” Sherlock says in the soft voice he only reserves for Rosie and John. “Nothing you can say is selfish. You have every right to know. I was wondering when you’d bring the topic up.”

Rosie sighs. “Anything, really. I want… I want to know if I’m like her at all or- just anything.��

John can’t help but give a small smile. “You have her stubbornness,” he says. “I think that’s the main thing. I swear, sometimes you talk just like her.”

“You have her energy,” Sherlock continues, and John wants to kiss the man for being such a wonderful sport. He knows Sherlock still feels inexplicable guilt, even as they’ve progressed their relationship into a couple. He knows Sherlock has a difficult time talking about the subject, but the fact that he talks about it like it’s the easiest thing in the world when someone brings Mary up… John loves him. “She was quite the lively woman.”

“You’re clever,” John says, his voice now a whisper. “She was intelligent, could always see through a lie and had a lense of reality.”

Rosie looks like she’s on the verge of tears. Sherlock rubs her back. “What is it?” the detective asks.

“No, no, it’s just…” She lets out a long breath. “Everyone at school always talks about their mothers. And- And that made me more upset that I couldn’t relate to them.” A small smile forms on Rosie’s lips. “I’m glad I can… that I can learn about Mum. And just knowing that I’m somewhat like her-” Rosie sniffles, smiling through her tears. “It makes me so happy.”

John pulls Rosie in for a tight hug, striving not to shed tears himself. He kisses her blonde curls. “You’re a lot more like her than you think. She’ll always be a part of you and I want you to never forget that.”

Sherlock seems hesitant on joining in on the affection, but Rosie huffs and pulls him in by his arm sleeve. “‘Lock, get in here.”

Sherlock chuckles at the nickname and joins in, wrapping his long arms around the both of them.

They stay like that for a while, just the three of them.

*•*•*•*

Tags: @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @totallysilvergirl @ninasnakie @thegildedbee @whodwantmeasaflatmate @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @sherlocknjohn221b @jawnn-watson @blogstandbygo @lisbeth-kk @holmesianlove @7-percent @itsonlytext @chinike @peanitbear @mary-johnlocked @bakerstreetbe @curlyjohnlock @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @ceceliajupe @ghostofnuggetspast @dw91165 @jolieblack

(Please let me know if you don’t wish to be tagged or if you’d like to be tagged.)

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milogreer · 3 months

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sneak peeks for shaw pack scaredy cats, a fic about the shaw pack as teenagers where the focus is (supposed to be) milo and tank torturing themselves and each other with horror movies :) takes place around 2009 when they're about 16/in 11th grade

Milo and Tank are hardly three feet out the door when Asher barrels out after them, squeezing his way between two freshmen and nearly taking one of them out with his backpack as he goes. He offers them an embarrassed apology, brightening up when he whirls back around to his pack members.

“I’m glad I caught you guys. Guess what?”

“What?” they ask in unison. Tank sounds far less interested than Milo, not that it’s a high bar - it’s surprising that they even answered Asher at all.

“I talked David into going to see Saw VI with me next weekend.”

“What?” Just Milo this time, incredulous. “That gore-fest? How the hell’d you manage that?”

“Hey, the Saw franchise is more than blood and guts! It’s psychological horror, and the plot is, you know, it’s intricate-”

Tank, who’s turned a little green at this point, says bluntly, “It’s gross.”

And Asher can’t really argue with that. Especially considering the gore is mostly why he watches them, contrasting David’s preference for plot-driven movies.

“So, I can assume you don’t wanna go with us to see it?”

“No way,” Tank says firmly, nose scrunching up in disgust, at the same time Milo scoffs, “In your dreams!”

Asher lets out a rather pitiful whine, his shoulders dropping and head lolling to the side. “Come on, you guys never wanna go to the movies. You’re so boring.”

The door opens to reveal Gabriel, and Tank can feel the phantom way their wolf ears flatten against their head. They blink up at him with wide, surprised eyes before quickly looking away, clearing their throat nervously.

“Afternoon, Mr. Shaw.”

To be the Alpha, Gabe really isn’t an intimidating man. Tall, broad, and grizzled, sure - but he’s also standing before them in a faded old apron and holding a sauce-covered pasta fork. So, not exactly the scariest guy around, but Tank’s only been part of the pack for two years. Despite making friends with a handful of the other kids, some of the adults still watch them warily. It makes Tank nervous. The entire pack shuts their mouths whenever Gabe speaks; with authority like that, one wrong move could send them and their parents back to Washington.

“Hey, kiddo. What brings you by?”

“I, uh-,” They shift their weight from one foot to the other. "I told David I was coming over to get a movie. I figured he told you.” They falter for a second before awkwardly adding, “Sorry,” almost as a question rather than a statement.

Gabe waves his pasta fork dismissively. “No problem. He’s got this project he’s been working on for school, he’s been locked up all afternoon.” He steps backwards into the house, opening up the doorway, and gestures for them to come in. “You know the way.”

Tank hums affirmatively, head down as they skirt past Gabe into the house, only remembering their manners after they’ve made it halfway down the hall.

“Thank you.”

“Good luck,” Gabe calls jokingly after them as he disappears into the kitchen.

“Do you wanna stay for dinner, Tank?”

No fuckin’ way. They open their mouth to decline as politely as possible, but David cuts in before they can.

“Yeah.” He pins them with a look that effectively quiets any argument they would’ve tried to make. They think he’s a lot like Gabriel that way, sharing that authoritative spirit that demands to be listened to. “We’ve still gotta pick a movie, but we can do it after, right?”

Keeping their expression neutral, they say, “Sure, we can do that.” They chance a look at Gabe, that same out-of-character deference shining through. “If that’s okay?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.” He has a warm smile, entirely different from what Tank’s used to at home. It somehow serves to both put them at ease and make them uncomfortable. “The more the merrier. It’ll be another five minutes max.”

“Cool. Thanks, Dad.”

The second the door closes, Tank picks up the nearest object - a baseball - and chucks it at David, who catches it with ease. “You suck.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I can basically hear your stomach growling.” He tosses the baseball back at them. “And this way, you don’t have a choice but to spend time with Gabe the dad instead of Gabe the Alpha.”

“You’re crazy. If anything, Tank likes you the least."

“Aw, c’mon, we’re best buds!” Asher slings an arm around Tank, dragging them in close. “Isn’t that right, T?”

If looks could kill, the side-eye/scowl combination Tank hits Asher with would’ve dropped him like a sack of potatoes. They tamp down the urge to shove him off of them; they’ve been trying to get better about putting hands on people.

“Get. Off.”

Asher complies without complaint, his hands in the air and the most shit-eating grin on his face even as Tank bares their teeth at him.

“See?” He winks at Milo. “Besties.”

“Whatever. All I'm saying is, I don’t care if you’re dying - If I catch you sniffin’ around my house this weekend during this movie you won’t have to worry about Dee’s test because I’ll beat your ass into next week.”

Asher perks up, eyes sparkling. “Ooh-”

“That is not a promise, you freak,” Milo cuts in with a finger pointed threateningly at Asher. “Don’t you got a class to go to?”

#i wanna do more with this but i have NO plan at all. and i'm focused on hbs rn (when i'm not exhausted)#redacted audio #redacted asmr #shaw pack #redacted tank #milo greer #david shaw #asher talbot #sweetheart.txt #fic tag #milo #darlin #davey #asher

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pinkslashersimp · 1 year

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Hello! May I request headcanons for NBC’s Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham with a Venom!fem!reader? The reader has a symbiote like her fellow investigative journalist Eddie Brock, but has not told her partners about her ‘little friend’ or that she eats really, very bad people until another symbiote, Carnage, shows up and attacks them on a night around the town or when they are all about to have dinner in Hannibal’s home? Thank you so much!

╰┈➤ Note: Hello!!! sorry this took so long, I’m volunteering (childcare practitioner) and I work as a chef on the weekend so my spare time is almost none existent 😭 this is my first time writing for someone with powers(???) - which i may start doing in the future bc my Marvel interest has peaked 👀 - so pls forgive me if this isn’t the best or is a little sloppy T-T

✎ Synopsis: You and Eddie both share a dark secret, which Hannibal and Will both suspect may be cannibalism. But when an enemy attacks, how will your work partners react to your true self?

Of course you’d kept it secret, had you told anyone, let alone Hannibal, about your or Eddies “little secret” it’s no doubt you both would’ve been institutionalised immediately.

You were very, very, sneaky about who you ate and where. Picking off rude people you saw in the store, men who are too crude to women, or following drivers who drive like dicks off the road to devour. People nobody would necessarily miss too much. They were never reported as murders, either, just missing.

Since you and Eddie are investigative journalists you would be assigned to these cases with the aid of Hannibal, but would quickly drop them, as there is “insufficient evidence” and it “simply could be anyone”

Hannibal believes you’re both lazy at first, dismissing cases, until he realises there’s a common theme going on between you both. People go missing in the same area, you’re both assigned to the case with his help, and suddenly the case is dropped with you both acting suspicious.

He, of course, does not think you’re symbiote. Just a classic cannibal murderer.

Will has his suspicions too, but instead of believing you’re cannibal murderers he simply believes perhaps you both know something about the missing people that you aren’t saying for whatever reason.

It displeases them both greatly.

Hannibal and Will both agree that the best course of action would be to host a dinner party at Hannibal’s home, to gain trust and open a discussion about the missing people.

And to potentially see if you recognise the taste of human meat…

You and Eddie both turn up to the party, in your smartest attire, ignoring the very sarcastic comments the symbiotes make as you both get ready.

When you are both seated, Hannibal and Will share glances with one another

You and Eddie share a glance too, after tasting the meat, silently confirming exactly what you have both just put in your mouthes. And Hannibal catches onto this.

He glances over at Will again, and before he can say anything a loud crash comes from the back of the dining room, as the window shatters upon impact when a giant, red symbiote with rage in its eyes crashes in

“What the FUCK-!?” Will shouts, pulling out his gun and firing into it as much as he can.

Hannibal stands and quickly moves away from it, as it snarls and takes every bullet from Wills gun. It turns to both you and Eddie as Venom emerges from you both, emerging from your skin like a sick, black, sweat.

Hannibal and Will both stand back in the doorway, watching in confused horror as the three of you fight it out in their dining room, you and Eddie quickly overpower carnage and he turns on his tail and runs out into the night, howling about coming back.

You both turn back and check on each other, before turning to your horrified friends in the corner.

“what the fuck was that…” Will asks, his gun pointed at the both of you, whilst Hannibal desperately tries to process what just happened.

Looks like you’ve both got too much explaining to do.

#hannibal #nbc hannibal #slasher headcanons #hannibal lecter #hannibal headcanons #nbc will graham #will graham headcanons #will graham #hannigram #hannigram x reader #venom #venom reader #marvel venom

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the-pale-goddess · 9 months

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Vices & Virtues - Ethan Ramsey x MC

Dr. Ramsey's weaknesses don’t disturb his everyday life often, but when they do, a certain intern happens to always be involved.

Book: Open Heart, Intern Year (between Chapters 5 & 6)

Warnings: language, my rusty writing, a truckload of pining

Rating/Category: Teen+ / fluffy angst

Author’s note: [insert the ‘surprise, bitch’ & 'it's been 84 years' reaction GIFs]

I’m eternally grateful for the very few angels still waiting for new E&T content—this one’s for you 🫶🏻 Hope you’ll find a moment to read my word vomit and enjoy the mess (aka my writing). I appreciate every comment and like more than words can convey!

Edenbrook is indigestible on Mondays. Though Ethan Ramsey doesn’t believe in whatever ‘curse’ humankind attributed to an absolutely random day, he cannot deny the madness that usually ensues upon the beginning of each week. An inexplicable air of post-weekend malaise does tend to envelop the globe, and Boston is no lucky exception.

“Mondays suck!”

Striding across the hustly-bustly pediatric ward, Doctor Ramsey overhears an agitated boy explicitly expressing his annoyance.

Ethan’s Monday has been a doozy of a day as well, but he’d rather keep his troubles six feet under, preferably in concrete. Nevertheless, a drop of sympathy implores him to stop near the patient’s room and watch the scene unfold at a safe distance.

The child blows a raspberry at the nurse preparing him for a corridor-long wheelchair ride, clearly upset about the surgery he’s being taken to.

A heavy sigh followed by the unmistakable giggle of a certain copper-haired radiologist interrupts Ethan’s first break during today’s demanding shift.

“It’s not Monday, kid. It’s just your life.” Doctor Herbert whispers into Ethan’s ear, a large cup of raspberry tea in her hand. “But at least it’s going to be all rainbows and candy again in three weeks.”

Meanwhile, the situation has escalated quickly: a river of tears streams down the young Monday-hater's cheeks now, his concerned mother shooting pleading looks between her shuddering offspring and the strict nurse trying to efficiently finish the task so she could move on with her hectic schedule.

A pang of dejection pierces Ethan all of a sudden when a long-forgotten fragment of the past he buried flashes through his mind. Before its splinters reopen old wounds, he swiftly pushes the unwanted memory back to the unexplored depths of his psyche.

“I don’t think he’s heard you.”

“Gee, Doctor Ramsey, share some of that cheerful attitude with the rest of us!” Liz nudges his side, almost spilling her hot beverage on his foot. She mouths an apology, but his unimpressed gaze falls elsewhere.

“You wouldn’t even know what to do with it.”

“Thank God your interns still haven’t caught that grumpiness you’re suffering from.”

“No need to worry, it’s not contagious.” He gives a dismissive wave of his hand, partially to announce his departure, then continues the journey to his primary destination: the harmonious sanctuary of his private office.

As soon as the elevator door closes behind Ethan, the confined space becomes his temporary resort. He takes a deep breath, rubbing his sunken, aweary eyes to relieve the tension—an aching remnant of the sleepless night. The exhaustion begins to mess with his senses, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary; permanent fatigue has been his steadfast companion for more than a decade of his career as a doctor.

There’s a crack in that orderly, borderline clinical life of his, as big as a closed fist, and he’s slowly beginning to realize its detrimental consequences.

But none of that matters now.

What matters is that his desperate efforts to bend Naveen’s stubbornness weren’t in vain; there’s still hope—a notion Ethan isn’t exactly on board with, but he puts his trust in science, and beyond any doubt science will point him in the right direction. As long as there’s time, he’ll do whatever it takes to save his mentor, his friend. He’s confident he can do it, he’s capable of diagnosing and curing whichever mysterious illness keeps Naveen captive.

He’s the only one who can do it.

A double shot of deep roasted espresso shall help this cause. Or, at the very least, make his Monday slightly more endurable.

Loud metallic thud followed by a streak of bright fluorescent lighting annunciates the arrival. Empty, windowless corridor welcomes his nostrils with the odious mixture of staleness and antiseptic, typical of the office wing on the sixth floor. He operates on autopilot, mindlessly trudging ahead, marginally consoled by the aura of eerie quietude. Blissfully oblivious to what the so-called Manic Monday has prepared for him next.

All his rational thought and peerless logic evaporate into thin air the second his drowsy gaze zooms in on the old waiting room under renovation currently withheld by the recent budget cuts. Within its hoary walls, a familiar sylphlike figure catches his eye, unwittingly staking her claim to his undivided attention.

Ethan’s dire need of coffee has vanished as well; he’s wide awake now.

Smiling to herself, a sense of pride evident in the alluring dimples carved into her cheeks, Doctor Addams arranges a stack of papers atop a massive couch protected by thin plastic sheet.

Ethan acknowledges that he must ignore the tempest raging inside his chest, but he’s unable to focus on anything else other than the energy she exudes, luring him in like a siren’s song.

This isn’t the first time the infamous Doctor Terminator is utterly powerless in the face of her—the most intriguing mystery he’s tempted to unravel for some godforsaken, unfathomable reason.

Everything he knows about Tiffany Addams has been collateral damage from their close proximity and the isolating nature of their work. Against better judgment, Ethan has stored every single crumb of information thrown at him, like it’s a treasure guarded in the vault of his mind, acquiring new pieces and adding them to this clandestine collection.

With certainty, there’s a new element behind that glass wall, ready to be studied in secret.

As though pulled by a magnet, his feet carry him towards the room while Ethan shuffles through a myriad of excuses plausible enough to start a conversation. A good excuse, however, requires an elaborate background story, supported by a carefully planned follow-up—both of which clearly out of his reach at the moment.

Fully aware of the possible disaster awaiting inside, Ethan steps into the room quietly, leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed over his chest. A sophisticated scent of sultry vanilla wrapped with notes of luminous lavender pervades the space, handily smothering the musty odor of the old hospital furniture stored here for at least a year.

Heedless of his presence, Tiffany remains locked in her own bubble. She’s seated on the couch, browsing through a large leather bag with a lot of noise.

Long onyx locks neatly tamed in a sleek bun reveal the exquisitely sculpted contour of her features, its sharp edges so far removed from the overpowering warmth hiding in her sparkling emeralds and tenacious kindness dripping from the corners of her full mouth.

That stark contrast surely must be a part of her allure, he reckons. Not that there’s any evidence at his disposal—he’s her boss, for fuck’s sake. But the set of cardinal rules applying to the situation doesn’t stop him from looking, nor does it dilute the poison seeping from that singular contaminated thought…

Loud, treacherous voice snarls inside his mind like a beast at the gates of his sanity.

This isn’t staring, this is a comprehensive risk assessment.

Regardless of the pretext, watching her feels almost perverse, but he’s too transfixed to listen to his voice of reason hopelessly trying to redirect him to the path of impeccable propriety.

He can’t look away. Can’t move either. She'll notice him…Eventually.

Is that all he’s become? A disappointment, a fraud. One of the best diagnosticians of the generation, the esteemed Dr. Ethan Ramsey is consistently failing to do his job. His own mind appalls him—once the most treasured asset, his pride and joy, now compromised, useless, struggling to cut through the veil of his inappropriate longing.

Perhaps instead of triggering a spiral of destruction, he should address a more pressing matter: why is there a splotch of purple paint on her cheek?

Better late than never, his focus switches from Tiffany to the negligible surroundings. On her left, spread across the polythene-covered couch, lie a couple of ridiculously abstract drawings, colorful and confusing, each of them made with the skill and precision equal to a six-year-old if he has to guess.

Suddenly, it all clicks.

Along with his tongue.

The short clack doesn’t make her flinch, though she straightens immediately, a glimmer of surprise shining in her riveting eyes when she looks up at the intruder and deems him worthy of a smile. Her lush, rosy lips curl up generously, greeting him with a beam so dazzling his body heats up like bare skin kissed by the blazing midday sun in the middle of summer.

The older doctor doesn’t return the cordial gesture—he has a reputation to uphold and his bruised dignity to save. He quickly takes refuge in the shadow of his perfect decorum, dexterously covering the unjustifiable act of treason committed by his very own carnality.

Tiffany, however, is undeterred in her mission to melt his callous indifference with the disarming sincerity of her vivacious spirit.

“Before you drop your sarcastic grenades on me: no, I have not found my true calling elsewhere. I have not been slacking up either. These aren’t even mine, so insulting someone else’s artistic skills would be totally inappropriate.” Her hand waves over the drawings.

“I wouldn’t dare to insult a respected artist and credit you with their art.” He retorts flatly, then spills the aforementioned sarcasm like the Lord intended. “Early Pollock must cost a fortune or two. How come such rare artworks ended up in your possession?”

His comment inspires a peal of infectious laughter; the powerful melody of Tiffany’s unadulterated amusement conquers the room, all but obliterating the chronic sternness of Ethan’s face.

He cannot help but bask in the glory of this unexpected outcome: he’s the reason behind the glorious, velvety sound; she’s laughing because of him.

“You made a pretty solid assumption, Doctor Ramsey, but I have to disappoint you: early Pollock had an affair with surrealism and his style was way more compositional than this.” She points at the glittery mess splashed in the center of one of the pieces, not so subtly suppressing another wave of laughter.

Miss Addams and her irreplaceable wit painfully remind him of the golden rule he often pretends doesn’t concern his giant ego: do not speak on the topics your knowledge of is insufficient.

Lustrous vivid-green eyes fixed on him and the urgency he’s facing at the moment leave him no choice but to quickly shake off the embarrassment and adapt his reaction accordingly.

Reluctantly, Ethan clings to brutal honesty. “I’m not an art connoisseur, so I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

“Oh, trust me, you would.”

A smudge of amethyst retrieves the diagnostician’s attention for one split second, demanding a seamless change of topic.

“I presume you spent your lunch break on the pediatric ward again, trying to start a new art movement.”

Doctor Addams gasps theatrically and presses her slender fingers to her mouth, lowering her head slightly. “What gave me away?”

Ethan considers revealing the truth through another shot of bluntly delivered sarcasm (something he would have done in any other case), but his body betrays him, subconsciously drawing near Tiffany.

“Apart from the excited chatter on the second floor? Nothing.” He replies, straining to keep his impeccable composure just as she bites into her lower lip tantalizingly in what appears to be keen anticipation.

A few risky steps later she’s at his arm’s length, and he decides to measure that dangerously short distance; akin to an audience member of some ludicrous soap opera, the diagnostician observes his hand move towards the intern’s face in slow motion, as if that bloody limb wasn’t his and the falsely innocent intention swarming inside his incisive, virtuous mind filled him with repulsion.

Except he wants this. He needs to feel her.

Even though the mere ghost of an idea may bring his demise, he cannot break free, imprisoned by the torturous vision of her vanilla-scented skin gliding smoothly against his.

Much to his bewilderment, her breath quickens just as much as his; the evergreen forest in her eyes bursts into flames when their gazes meet, burning his hesitation down.

She wants this too.

Nothing could convince him to refrain from acting on this forbidden desire now, not a single reasonable thought seems to be charged with a cogent argument.

So he lets his thumb brush down her right cheek, down the lick of wet paint smeared across her warm skin, taking most of the dark purple off the silken canvas along the way.

The sky didn’t tear in half, there was no divine retribution exacted upon a sinner like him, no sign of punishment fit for his appalling misdeed.

“Nothing. At. All.”

Nothing but the silky smoothness of her face, rapid rise and fall of her shapely chest, and fiery heat searing through his veins…

Inevitably, the unbearable tension crackling between them dissipates in a flash when Tiffany snorts at the sight of his acrylic-stained thumb, a soundless ‘fuck’ escapes her mouth as she sprints to find a prompt solution for the paintmergency, stripping him of time to ponder on what the living hell just happened.

He takes advantage of the moment, immediately scolding himself, forcing his thoughts to flee from the crime scene concocted by his newly depraved brain.

“Must be your enviable instinct of an outstanding diagnostician then.” Cheeky as ever, she casts a playful eye over Ethan while rummaging through the drawers, summoning him to focus on her.

Within a long minute, she scuttles back to him, stretched arm offering one of the two pieces of paper towel sprayed with hand sanitizer. They use it to rub the paint off their skin. As soon as they’re done, Ethan quips back. Sort of.

“The balance between mockery and flattery is a bit too delicate to be used in a professional environment, don’t you agree, Addams?”

Unintimidated by the tricky question, Tiffany lifts her shoulder in a half shrug. “It all depends on the intelligence of the person you’re speaking with. You’re ultrawealthy in that department, so I assumed you wouldn’t mind some harmless friendly banter.”

“We’re not friends.” The speed with which he retaliates might have just sealed his fate. Deep down, he doesn’t quite believe those words himself, but there are rules to be followed unconditionally, rules that cannot be broken under any circumstances.

Dark, noble brows accentuating the breadth of her radiance crease together in sheer bewilderment. He can almost hear the scoff she’s choking back when she sees right through the cone-shaped hole in the thick wall separating them.

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“We’re getting there.” She nods vigorously, openly mocking his well-meaning mendacity with lips pursed into a thin line and narrowed eyes surveying him diligently.

„An attending befriending his intern? I can’t see that happening.”

A winning grin lights Tiffany’s features up. „It’s already happening, whether you like it or not.”

The more she pushes forward, infuriatingly so, the more he resists, fortifying his helpless defense.

„Would you be kind enough to explain why on Earth would I let it happen?”

“It’s beyond your control.” She shakes her head. „There’s nothing you can do now.”

He frowns at her, takes her fierce expression in, feigning utter disinterest in the mesmerizing spatter of freckles adorning her glowy skin.

Is the intensity of his glare too revealing? Can there be a flash of ardent curiosity swimming in his eyes and acting up against him?

„You’re awfully confident about all the wrong things, Rookie.”

She mimics the military salute, right hand raised sharply, touching her forehead, fingers and thumb extended and joined, palm facing down. „The colossal pain in your ass reporting for duty, sir.”

This display of her goofiness, derived from the smidgeon of irreverence he’s found himself covertly fond of, successfully penetrates his ruptured facade.

At last, Doctor Terminator’s perpetually grim face blooms with an ear-to-ear smile, so wide and genuine that Tiffany blinks once, twice, most probably questioning whether the exceptionally unusual scene in front of her is real.

The way she gapes at his mouth almost drills a hole in him—she’s that awestruck, like a pious believer who stumbled upon irrefutable evidence confirming the foundation of her faith.

“You should smile more. You…” Her plush lips part when she trails off, then sucks in a breath, as if to stop the profanation of their professional relationship jumping on the tip of her tongue from slipping out recklessly.

She wants this too.

“It suits you.”

Ethan’s cheeks erupt with disgraceful heat, resembling an awkward teenager attracting his crush’s attention for the very first time—the feeling almost as mortifying and inexcusable as the unprecedented lack of any snarky response.

As if the worst was yet to come, Tiffany keeps on staring at him with such exhilarating wonder and sureness he doesn’t quite know how to proceed with such abundance of emotion meddling with his stoic approach.

She wants this too.

For a fleeting moment, the abyss of his solitude shrinks significantly, purple paint filling the crack on the illusory contentment with the life he’s chosen, just as her piercing gaze invites him further into the impossible fantasy.

Then, a jolt of sobering guilt runs along his spine in a rude awakening, at the same time when Tiffany realizes the gravity of her daring statement and its perilous implications.

“I, erm…”

“Uhm, my…”

Ethan smashes the uncharacteristic uneasiness descending on them, a benign half-smile and barely perceptible nod encourage her to continue. “Go on.”

Her gaze flickers towards the hall, a tinge of crimson reddening freckled porcelain. “My break is almost over. I should head back to the ER.”

Hell must have frozen over: his fearless protégée, strong-willed and sharp-tongued at all times, befuddles him with this uncommonly demure armor plate she has put on. The most challenging obstacles and cases fail to break her down, stress and pressure never threaten her admirable strength, and yet there she is—bleeding from her own sword.

This supremely fascinating token of hidden vulnerability sheds new light on the beguiling collection of contradictions making her whole.

He examines the younger doctor pacing around the room as she gathers her belongings up, stuffing her capacious bag with them. Half-way, she spins to address him directly and points at her cheek.

“Am I…Still…?”

“No, you’re alright. The paint is gone.”

“Splendid.”

As she goes forward, assembling her patients’ drawings into a neat pile, and—rather intentionally—ignoring Ethan, he readjusts his tie and dives headfirst into the pool of her discomfort.

“Addams?”

“Hm?”

“You don’t have to dedicate such a vast portion of your free time to helping others.”

She freezes, visibly offended, but still intent on avoiding his gaze. “I know. I want to.”

“What I meant...Is that you need to add yourself to the equation, Tiffany.”

“I’m doing just fine, thank you.” She scoffs, the barely noticeable defensive undertone reverberating in her firm answer not entirely convincing for the diagnostics virtuoso.

His evaluation is disrupted by the abominably loud beeping of Tiffany’s pager. Their eyes finally clash for a brief shootout with no winner before she shuts the damn thing up.

“Well then. See you later, Doctor Ramsey.” She blurts out hastily without giving him a second glance and turns round to rush out of the room, but stops in her tracks near the door.

Something sparks inside that brilliant mind of hers, reigniting her boldness. Dense curtain of long lashes flutters at him over her shoulder, inky-black and luxurious akin to the finest lace, the signature magnetic smile dancing on her lips again—this time infused with genuine concern. She inspects his countenance for a still moment, inch by inch, crease by crease, until her head falls to the side like she has just uncovered his biggest secret.

“Consider locking the door in your office and getting some rest.”

“Giving me advice isn’t included in your job description.” He sneers, the unnecessarily harsh huff of his disapproval concealing the alien sentiment spilling inside his chest.

Somehow it’s still not enough to antagonize her.

Her eyes bore into his audaciously; the gentleness gleaming from elusive emerald green, reminiscent of safety, offers shelter he despairingly seeks, but cannot take. “But it’s nice to have someone watching out for you, isn’t it?”

Somehow they might have more in common than one would think.

Careful not to expose the motley collection of feelings stirring his blood, Ethan draws in a long breath and slips his hands into the pockets of pristine white coat, perfecting his posture, with tense body standing even taller, as though to appear completely unaffected by her undeniable appeal, more unrelenting.

He’s been looked at countless times, yes, but this must be the first instance where he feels truly seen.

It is indeed nice.

The attending doesn’t say a word, for he would have to agree with the intern. She smirks triumphantly, accepting the tacit disbelief etched on his face as conclusive proof of her diagnosis.

Instead of claiming victory through verbal manifestation of her sass, Doctor Addams attacks him using a different weapon: a provocative wink. “Just think about it.”

With a graceful twirl indicating goodbye, his Rookie struts out, leaving a dizzying mist of her divine scent behind.

Wasting no time, Ethan scoots to the exact place where she stood prior to this moment, soaking up the delicious cloud of fragrance, unable to resist sniffing the air like some sort of disgustingly pathetic creep.

Thankfully, there are no witnesses to this particularly revolting descent into madness.

No witnesses to the beginning of his fall.

Mind over heart has never sounded more delusional than now, that his hard-won empire of spotless reason stands on the verge of crumbling. But he’s not giving up—he can’t give up. There’s too much at stake.

Beyond dispute, Ethan Ramsey is not an easy man to defeat. The King of Quiet Desperation wears his broken crown with arrogance, each burnished gem representing his sins, though the ultimate one hasn’t brought him down yet.

Having put the mask of nonchalance back on, Doctor Ramsey turns off the lights and stomps into the empty corridor—his hand still carrying the heavenly softness of Tiffany’s skin like a fingerprint, like a sin, shaky fingers curling at the very thought of the contact—then begins a seemingly casual stroll to his office.

He doesn’t have many vices—she is all of them.

_____

A/N2: Hope you enjoyed this bad boy ❤️ Sorry (not sorry) if it's too long and repetitive...I literally can't shut up when it comes to these two fsksjdkfjs Plus it felt really good to find my writing mojo after such a long time!

PS. If there are any typos and/or mistakes...No, there aren't lol I'm fighting COVID at the moment, so my brain's a little foggy. I had this fic sitting in my drafts and decided to just go with the flow while I'm feverish and can't see any faults sjfskfkjf I'll get back to everyone waiting for a reply when I'm more coherent. Stay safe, lovelies!

#ethan ramsey #open heart #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #playchoices #fluffy angst #choices open heart #open heart fanfiction

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holylulusworld · 10 months

Text

Competition

Summary: You and Lloyd are in a competition for life.

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x fem!Reader

Warnings: concurrence, coitus interruptus (ruined blow job/not the reader), erectile dysfunction (mentions), language, nakedness, Lloyd being Lloyd, threats, mentions of pegging, character's death

“Fuck, faster,” Lloyd slaps the back of the girl’s head. “You are nothing but a worthless whore. Look at you, so pathetic. You can’t even get me hard.” He growls and curses while the girl tries her best to get Lloyd off.

“Who hired you?” He complains loudly as she slobbers all over his still limp dick. “I want you to get me hard, not drool all over my dick.”

She let his dick slip out of her mouth and chokes out a sob. This should’ve been an easy job. Get this guy off and earn two hundred bucks.

“I’m doing my best,” she sniffles. “All the other guys got hard for me. You’re the only one with this…problem.”

“Problem?” Lloyd cocks his head. “Did you just accuse me of having an erectile dysfunction? It’s not the guy’s problem if you are not able to get me hard.”

The girl sniffles and sobs, distracting Lloyd long enough for you to sneak inside the room. Your gun aimed at his head you watch Lloyd fight with the poor girl.

“Well, well,” you chuckle darkly as you slowly stalk toward Lloyd and the girl on her knees. “If that isn’t Carmichael’s lapdog. What was your name again?”

“Sunshine, I didn’t expect you to come around too,” Lloyd tries to sound casual, but you can hear the edge in his voice. “And we both know you moan my name when you flick that pearl.”

He grins, eyes roaming your body. Lloyd doesn’t seem to be nervous or scared. Not even while looking into the barrel of your shotgun.

“You’re not the kind of guy a woman remembers,” you unlock your shotgun. “Right, sweetie.” You glance at the girl. “He can’t even get it up. Boring.”

Lloyd’s cock twitches at your insult. His eyes drop to the girl between his legs. She looks up at him with teary eyes. “You are dismissed,” he grabs his purse to throw ten bucks at her. “Thanks for nothing.”

“Now, now Mr. Hansen,” you step closer to aim the shotgun at his chest. “Pay the girl for her service. It’s not her fault that you got a limp dick. Five hundred should be enough.”

“Five—” Lloyd splutters. “You lost your damn mind, cupcake. If you’d leave me the fuck alone now, I can settle things with her.”

“No can do, sweet cheeks,” you retort and poke his chest with the shotgun. “You will pay the girl and then, we will settle things, Hansen.”

He sighs deeply. “You know that we can’t let her go. She saw our faces.”

“She knows shit. All she knows is that you got a limp dick.” You narrow your eyes.

“She…” Lloyd grunts. He watches you run your hand over the girl’s head. You pat her hair, all the while holding Lloyd’s gaze. “I’m warning you!”

“The money, or I’ll shoot your dick off,” you lower your voice. “Maybe add the nice watch you’re wearing too.” You smirk darkly. “For the inconvenience you caused.”

“I will rip your heart out,” he growls, pointing his index finger at you. “You want to extort me, huh? No one fucks with Lloyd Hansen!”

“I can see that, lover boy.” You glance at his dick. “Still limp and wrinkly,” you coo, and poke his dick with your gun. “Give her the money.”

“Muffin, that’s very unprofessional of you. You can’t just threaten my dick and rob me,” Lloyd’s features darken. “If you go through with this, you’ll end up with more than a broken neck.”

“I can hardly wait,” you bite back. The girl scrambles to her feet and tries to flee out of the room. She grabs the door handle tugging at it before she manages to open the door. She stumbles out of the room only to catch a bullet.

“Ha, problem solved,” Lloyd grins while you yell at the idiot shooting the poor girl’s brains out. “Now back to our little faceoff.”

“Do you have no shame?” You growl. “The poor girl just lost her life because of you, and your limp dick.”

“Put that fucking gun away or I’ll rip you apart, cupcake,” he yells back, spitting while talking. “I’m losing my patience here.”

“You are a sick fuck, Hansen,” you scrunch up your nose when you drop your eyes to his twitching length. “What the fuck?”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he points at his cock, smirking cockily. “I must say, you get me going. How about you tell me why you came out here.”

“I want to know where you are hiding the witness,” you grit your teeth. “Tell me their location and you will survive the night.”

“Counteroffer, sunshine,” he runs his index finger and thumb over his mustache. “You loosen up a little and I will tell you shit.”

“I will loosen up your arsehole with my shotgun if you don’t tell me where I can find the witness. Last warning Hansen.”

“Oh, I didn’t take you for someone who likes to peg a man,” he snickers at your angry expression. “Maybe, if you are a good girl, I’ll let you peg me one day. Until then, we will go for you filled with my dick.”

You cock your head to watch Lloyd get comfortable on the bed.

“Hansen!”

“Cupcake, in a few moments my team will kill your team and then it’s time for a faceoff between you and me,” he casually says. “But, if you lower your gun we can work things out. I don’t have the witness. Someone else snatched him out of my hands.”

“Someone else?” You frown deeply. “Who?”

“Bastard called himself God,” Lloyd snorts. “Dude got an ego as big as my dick.”

“No one has a bigger ego than you,” you sneer. “But I heard that name before.”

“So…allies?” Lloyd holds out his hand. “Come on, cupcake. I know you want to say yes.”

“Pants first.” You point the shotgun at his dick. “Negotiation later…”

Competition 2.0

Tags in reblog.

#lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #Competition

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starlightkun · 4 months

Text

⇢ word count: 13.5k ⇢ warnings: past unethical experimentation, you have to accept the premise of a single human empire in space in the future with colonies and a military and not think deeper about that, multiple needle/injection mentions, main characters are morally gray, and oh yeah cursing ⇢ genre: sci-fi, set in the near-ish future, humans and aliens and robots, black op mission, captain kun, ?????? reader, slow burn, fluff, dash of angst, ft. wayv as the crew of the vision ⇢ extra info: took a lot of obvious inspo for this one from isaac asimov’s robot stories, specifically his concept of positronic brains & the three laws of robotics (and if you’ve read any of his stories, you’ll probably be able to see some other places too) ⇢ author's note: holy shit, this is finally it. the last part. THE last part. im literally vibrating rn y’all, im so excited for you to read this one, i hope you’ve been enjoying this fic im so so proud of it and love it so much ⇢ series masterlist | prev.

You looked down at his hand, then back up at him. “Do you want whatever a robot’s love is?”

“Here’s the engine room,” Ten announced, pushing open a door. Inside were multitudes of pipes, tubes, and wires. On your tour with Kun, he had only pointed out the door to you, not taken you inside.

You looked around with interest, following the pilot further in. He was walking towards a large cylinder set lower than the floor, about the same height as him. Thin bands of white light wrapped around the body of it, stopping where it tapered into a blunt end. Ten stepped down into the inset, now a head shorter than the cylinder, and jerked his head for you to follow.

You dropped down as well, looking up at the contraption.

“This is the slipdrive,” he gestured to it grandly. “Brand new.”

“It’s smaller than the second gen,” you observed immediately, looking around the engine room. “The dimensions of the prior model would be… twice as large?”

“Correct.”

“The Vision was built before the new slipdrive, it’s meant to use the prior model, which has a completely different energy signature. How are they compatible?”

“You’re fun,” he declared with a grin, resting a hand on the side. But the explanation he seemed about to launch into stopped short, as the smile fell from his face and turned baffled. “Well that’s not right.”

“What?”

“ZEN?” Ten called out for the AI. “There isn’t something wrong with the slipdrive, is there? You’d tell us.”

“Of course, Sergeant,” ZEN’s voice confirmed, though his avatar didn’t appear. You figured he might not have a terminal to project himself from down here.

“So it’s just… idling?”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“Why’d you turn it on idle?”

“Captain Qian’s order.”

“Should’ve figured. Thanks, man.” Ten just looked even more troubled.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“Captain apparently ordered ZEN to suspend us in slipspace…” He crossed his arms thoughtfully. “I’m assuming you know the difference between turning off a slipdrive and idling one?”

“Turning off a slipdrive drops the ship out of slipspace. Idling it suspends it in slipspace.”

“It’s not exactly putting it in park. The longer we’re in slipspace, the more the slipdrive and the ship’s systems have to work to hold its position outside time and space. Not an ideal position to be in for a protracted amount of time.”

You gulped, following after Ten as he started towards the door. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to ask the captain why he suspended us in slipspace,” he said simply.

Ten seemed to barely register you accompanying him to Kun’s office, or at least didn’t mind if he did notice. The door was open when the two of you got there, and Ten knocked as he walked in.

Kun looked up from where he had been staring rather listlessly at his desk reader displaying some report. He dismissed the document as he went to give his greetings, “Ah, Ten, Y/N. How can I help you?”

“We were just down in the engine room, Captain,” Ten started. “I was showing Y/N the new slipdrive, when I noticed that it uh, it wasn’t set to propulsion.”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“Why did you suspend us in slipspace, Captain?” His words, despite their bluntness, held no hostility or malice, they clearly weren’t accusatory or suspicious, just curious, inquisitive.

The captain sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. You chewed on the inside of your cheek nervously. After far too long of a pause to be comfortable, he replied, “There is… a matter that needs to be resolved before we arrive at UHN Main. Do you trust that you do not need to know anything further at this time?”

“How long will it take to resolve?”

“I don’t know, unfortunately.”

“Just making sure we’re all on the same page about the slipdrive idling.”

“It’s brand new, and the newest model. Not to mention ZEN is monitoring all the systems. If an immediate danger becomes present, I will obviously reevaluate.”

Ten seemed satisfied. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do, yeah?”

“Thank you, Ten.”

“Alright, Y/N, have you seen the armory? I bet you could trick out a blaster like you did the coffee machine.”

Before he could take you back out of the captain’s office, however, Kun cleared his throat. “I wanted to have a word with Y/N, actually.”

“Gag, okay.” Ten headed for the door alone. “I’ll find a manual for the blasters, Y/N. Find me when you’re done. Bye!”

And then it was just you and Kun. And ZEN, presumably.

You turned to Kun, fidgeting with your fingers. “I didn’t say anything about you suspending the slipdrive, Kun. He was showing me the engine room because he knew I had read about the new slipdrive model, and he noticed it was idling all on his own. ZEN told him you suspended the ship.”

“I’m not angry, Y/N,” Kun reassured you gently. “Apparently Liu has been doing some thinking, about the headache you got yesterday.”

“…Right.”

“He wants to take another look at your head, to see if he can figure out what was causing the pain. And ideally, disable it.”

The mention of a painful headache made you shift your weight from foot to foot. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you knew what he was talking about, but it felt like it happened to someone else, not like your own memory.

“Okay, sure,” you agreed.

In Yangyang’s lab again, he had you lay down on one of the cool metal counters this time, and you felt startlingly like an autopsy cadaver as you stared up at the sterile white light above.

“Well?” Yangyang prompted the captain pointedly, holding his hand out palm-out.

“Well what?” Kun snorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“My positronic Allen key that you stole yesterday. I need it back now.”

“I don’t have it.”

“Don’t tell me you destroyed it in some noble, romantic gesture, or so help me, Captain—”

“I have it, Yangyang,” you interrupted, digging into your pocket to bring it out. You offered it out to the roboticist. “Here.”

“Ah, thank you, Y/N,” he beamed, accepting the coin into his hand. “Now, unlike last time, I’ll be putting you into repair stasis. You’ll lose muscle tension, kind of like when you’re asleep, except you’ll be awake. Hence why you’re laying down. That’s so if I were to test out anything that caused unexpected movement, you wouldn’t injure yourself or break anything. But I won’t be messing with any of that, promise. I’m just going to be looking around at how your head’s constructed.”

“Like… opening my head?”

“I don’t think yours does that.” He shook his head with what looked like a nearly disappointed frown. “I’m no human doctor, but from what I remember of your x-ray, I’m pretty sure your positronic brain is encased in mostly human stuff. At least, stuff that doesn’t look like metal on an x-ray. Bone, skin, who knows? I’ll be doing live imaging with some robotics tools this time to try to look at what’s inside.”

“Got it…”

When he held the Allen key up to your head this time, the side that faced you had a glowing pentagon in the center rather than a triangle. Yangyang talked as he slowly slid it around your forehead and temple, “The receiver to turn on repair stasis is usually around the same area as diagnostic stasis, but not always.”

“Holy shit…” Liu breathed out as he moved the sensor over your forehead, continuing to develop the image on the small handheld screen in his other hand.

Captain Qian tensed. “What? What’s going on?”

“I was kind of right. Y/N’s head wasn’t exploding so much as ripping itself apart from the inside.” The roboticist squinted at the parallel, jointed strips of metal at strategic points around your positronic brain casing. If they were to expand, which it definitely looked like they were meant to do, they would not only rip the casing apart, allowing the organic, wet human fluids like blood into the carefully aligned positronic brain, but fracture and break your skull from the inside out.

“Well fix whatever did that!” The captain snapped.

“I can’t.”

“What kind of roboticist are you?”

“A fucking good one,” the lieutenant shot back, the tension in the room finally getting to him as he bit back at his superior. “Because I can tell that nothing is faulty, Captain. It’s a failsafe. If certain parameters are met, the failsafe is triggered, and her entire positronic brain is permanently destroyed.”

He sighed, looking over the mechanics again. They were almost too familiar to him, rudimentary, but effective. They were widely considered cruel to use on robots nowadays. His roboethics professor was the first vocal opponent of such failsafes, especially when the topic of sentient robots was brought up. A human ordering a robot to destroy itself was one thing, a direct order, a choice, a decision. But installing failsafes for a robot to destroy itself, entirely unaware of what was happening to it was different. You weren’t even just a robot, you were… something else. A person, regardless of what percentage of you was organic matter.

“I doubt she’s doing it consciously,” Liu added, as if that made it any better.

“But you said someone either took all her data or destroyed it already, then ordered her to forget everything! What the fuck would this failsafe even do?” The captain was still demanding answers, insisting on reason, on anything less than the brutal reality in front of them.

“Presumably destroy the last thing left from whatever shady thing was happening down there.” Liu nodded to you, laying limp on the counter, eyes closed, almost looking peaceful, if one could imagine that you were sleeping.

“I hate to ask… but why keep her like this in the first place? Why not just destroy her when they abandoned Aegeum? Why do all this to her and not just trigger the failsafe? It’s just… cruel,” Captain Qian said, his voice hoarse. The lieutenant didn’t need to look at him to know that he was staring at you. They both were.

“I wish I knew, Captain. I wish I could tell you anything.”

“It registers as pain for her?”

“She remembers being human a lot better than she remembers being a robot, those might be the only words she has for it,” Liu offered up an explanation, then another, “I also haven’t seen a model exactly like her… I don’t know how much of her is organic. She could have nerves, pain receptors. If she says it hurts, then I believe her as much as if you told me you got a boo-boo.”

“Is there any way you can take the failsafe out? Or deactivate it at least?” The captain asked, voice near pleading now.

Liu turned away from you to shoot the captain a look, retorting, “Without accidentally triggering it or turning her into a positronic vegetable in the process? Fuck no.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

“God, what the hell went on down there?”

“The more I learn, the less I think I want to know.”

“You’re going to have to tell the rest of the crew. You know that, right?” The roboticist said bluntly, leaning his elbows forward on his knees to look the captain in the eyes.

Captain Qian ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “I know…”

“I won’t blab. This is between you and Y/N. We all trust you to tell us what we need to know when we need to know it. But I think they need to know this for Y/N’s sake.”

“Yeah, I know. Don’t want them accidentally triggering the failsafe or ordering her to do something.”

“Or another flying knife incident.”

“Fuck, that too…” He swore, looking up to the ceiling as he tried not to imagine your head randomly exploding at mess one morning. The captain focused back on his crewmate. “Are you about done with her like this?”

Liu stood up, setting the positronic Allen key onto the countertop next to your head. “Yep.”

“See you at mess, Liu.” The captain nodded to him as the roboticist moved to leave, closing the door behind him.

The captain picked up the Allen Key, gently lifting and turning your head to be able to access the base of your skull. He slid the key into place as he’d seen Liu do twice now, pressing the side with the pentagon to your skin until the coin buzzed twice against his fingertips. Setting the key aside, he delicately placed your head back down.

This time, you could tell that time had passed. Kun was standing above you, in the process of letting your head go, so tenderly, and you didn’t quite remember him grabbing it, but you didn’t not remember him grabbing it. You blinked slowly, eyes following him as he stepped back politely.

“Y/N?” He said your name quietly, holding your gaze. “You with me?”

“Yeah, Kun,” you replied, slowly sitting up. “I’m here…”

“How much of that were you actually hearing?”

“All my systems were operative but not talking to each other. I could hear you guys, but I wasn’t actually processing what you were saying.”

“Sounds like Wong in our briefings,” Kun joked dryly, and you let out a half-hearted chuckle. When tense silence fell over the two of you, he cleared his throat and continued, “Anyway, Liu thinks we have to be careful with our words when discussing certain things about your amnesia or Aegeum, and that the headache is a failsafe is to keep us from prying too far.”

You tried to argue, “I can deal with a headache if it helps—”

“Y/N, it’s not just a bad migraine. It’s a self-destruct button. And pushing it wouldn’t help us at all.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. So we’re going to leave it alone, alright?”

“No picking at the scab.”

The corner of his lip twitched. “Exactly.”

“I-I think I’d like to go back to our room,” you said weakly.

“I’ll go with you.”

When you woke up from your midday nap, you weren’t expecting Kun to still be in the room, honestly. But there he was, sat at the desk with the paperback book from Aegeum, having turned the chair around to face the bed. As you stirred, he dog-eared his page and set the book aside. You yawned and sat up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes for the second time that day.

He stood up and moved to sit on the edge of the mattress, offering you a tentative smile. “Hey.”

“Hey…” You echoed hesitantly.

Kun inhaled through his nose, then exhaled through his mouth before drawing his eyes up to meet yours and setting his shoulders. “Whatever kind of impulses and signals fire in me that my brain interprets as love, I don’t question those. If the best word you have for what’s going in you is love, it’s not my place to question that either. I’m not the gatekeeper of the word.”

You held his gaze steadily. “Do you think I only love you because of the First Law?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Can you live with yourself not knowing?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m sure this has been a lot for you too, I won’t push you for an answer right now,” you said quietly, slinging your feet over the side of the bed to stand up.

As you made your first step towards the door, hand outstretched to grab the handle, Kun spoke up, “I…”

You stopped, your hand falling back down to your side as you turned back to look at him curiously. “What is it?”

“Never mind.” He rushed to shake his head.

“You were going to ask something, weren’t you?”

“It’s okay. You were going.”

“You can ask. I know the difference between question that I can say no to, and an order.”

He still hesitated.

“You’ve seen me say no, haven’t you? Even to you, when there was no danger. Think.”

Kun finally nodded. “You’re right.”

“So?”

“I want— Could you… Would you mind… staying, for a little bit? You don’t have to… you can sit over on the other bed, or at the desk, or leave, or whatever you want, but…”

“I want to be around you too, Kun,” you said the words that you knew he couldn’t bring himself to for fear of it being too forceful, sitting back down next to him, closer than before. “Even if… you don’t know what to do about it.”

He swallowed thickly, and you saw his jaw tighten. You held your hand out for him, watching as he slowly put his on top.

You woke up first in the morning. From where your head rested on your pillow, you could see Kun’s own sleeping form in the bottom bunk of the other bed. Yesterday had been a bittersweet time: he told you about the book he was reading, you shared what you’d learned about the latest subject you’d been perusing, you gave him his injections, and the two of you had been unable to leave each other. Until it was time to go to sleep, and then Kun wordlessly got under the sheets on the other side of the room.

Slipping out of your cabin, you started down the halls of the ship. You had no particular destination in mind, thinking that maybe you’d go to the observation deck before eventually meandering over to the kitchen for mess, but more-so wanting to stretch your legs and let your mind ruminate. Your positronic mind. Even that thought alone was something you were still turning over.

As you passed by the robotics lab, however, you weren’t expecting to see light coming from under the door. Stopping, you gently turned the handle and pushed it open, finding it unlocked. Yangyang—or who you assumed to be Yangyang, as their face was completely covered by a welding mask—was at one of the workstations, welding something together as sparks flew up around his hands, and you squinted, covering your eyes against the brightness.

“Hey, Yangyang,” you announced your presence.

He perked up towards the sound of your voice, and waved his hand that was holding the robot piece in it. “Oh, hey, Y/N.”

“Are you busy?”

“Does it look like I am?” He gestured to the materials in front of him.

You looked over the countertops that seemed more cluttered than normal, welding tools that he was actively using, and robot part that was still in his hand. “I mean, yeah, kind of.”

“Nah, come in.” He waved you in, setting his tools and project down as you stepped further in. Still aware of how early it was in the morning, you shut the door behind you. The roboticist took his welding mask off, putting that aside and mussing his hair up with his fingers. “I really am sorry about the other day, by the way. Giving you an order.”

“Oh, that’s not why I’m here.”

“I didn’t think it was, but I still wanted to apologize. I needed to do it, but it was still a shitty thing. So I’m sorry. I’d do it again, to save your life, but I’ll apologize after every time.”

You tilted your head curiously. “Then what’s the point of apologizing?”

“Because you deserve one,” he said sincerely, firmly.

“Well, thanks. For saving me, and apologizing, I guess.”

“So, what do you need?” He changed his tone, throwing on a bright smile.

You took a deep breath, pulling up another stool to sit across the counter from him. “Do you think I can love?”

“From a robotics standpoint, I don’t know enough about how you’re constructed to be able to say much about what you can do.” He leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on the tabletop, lacing his fingers together over his stomach. “But that doesn’t matter. Ever since humans invented the idea of love, we’ve been debating about if it’s real, what it is, trying to study it, sell it, whatever.”

“Sounds like you don’t think it’s real.”

“Sure it is. As real as any abstract, undefinable concept is,” he shrugged. “Humans like to think they’re special. It was only in recent human history that we even learned that we weren’t the only intelligent species in the universe. And even then, there were some people who said that surely what sets us apart from them is that humans are the only species capable of love. And when we finally got translators proficient enough and could talk to them and we found out that they had the concept of love too, then it became that humans are the only ones capable of real love. Whatever that is.”

“The other species might’ve been thinking that about humans, too.”

“True.” He tapped his thumbs together thoughtfully, then continued, “My old roboethics prof, he used to say something: There’s no true metalman.”

“What does it mean?” You asked curiously.

“It’s a play on ‘no true Scotsman,’ which is a logical fallacy. The fallacy itself is kind of irrelevant. But it means there’s no such thing as a pure robot, free of human influence. That no matter how hard a roboticist may try, they’ll unintentionally leave some trace of themselves in whatever they create. There is always some human choice to be made at some point in the process. Some cases are more obvious than others, like early robots that had more limited built-in vocabularies talking like their creators, or a roboticist making seemingly arbitrary aesthetic decisions for a robot’s head features then his buddy walks in and jokes that it kind of looks like the first guy’s ex-wife.”

You blinked. “Did that really happen?”

“It’s an ‘everyone knows a guy who worked with a guy who…’ kind of thing,” he explained. “Anyway, my point is that I don’t think it’s so hard to imagine that a species so obsessed with love might, intentionally or not, make something that loves too.”

You pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth, thinking about the difference in Kun from before and after you went into repair stasis. “Is that what you told Kun?”

“What?” Yangyang’s confusion seemed genuine.

“I don’t know, I figured he would’ve talked to you about it,” you mumbled, looking down at your hands.

“No, he hasn’t.” After a moment, he added, “For what it’s worth, I think if he was to be taking my word about if you can love over yours… that wouldn’t be a great sign?”

You let out a choked laugh. “What does it mean that I’m asking you that then?”

“You’re someone who knew so little about yourself in the first place and now feels like you’ve had all that turned on its head. You’re doing what you’ve always done: Asking questions. I think that’s perfectly fair.”

“You don’t think I’ve completely lost what little sense of self I had?”

“I think you might feel like that—I can’t read your mind—but this doesn’t make the Y/N we got to know on Aegeum a figment of our imagination. You weren’t pretending to be our friend.”

“You don’t think that was the First Law?”

“The flying knife and the ceiling, definitely First Law behavior,” he conceded. “But I’ve met some rude, unhelpful robots before, trust me.”

“When did you know?” You asked. “That I wasn’t completely human?”

“I suspected something from when they found you untouched with no memories. I thought you were an android with a busted memory core. But then you bled.”

“I thought androids didn’t exist.”

“They don’t, but it’s the best I could come up with. No way was I expecting that they had actually developed a functioning humanoid before the first android.”

“Maybe they did but they didn’t survive.”

“Oh, you see, now that’s sad,” Yangyang clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Don’t make me think about that.”

“Sorry,” you chuckled a little, then went to change the topic. “So what were you working on?”

As Yangyang began explaining the personal project he had been tinkering with when you walked in, you let your seemingly ever-present problems fade into the background, eagerly listening to his enthusiastic words.

After breakfast, you took an extra plate of food to Kun’s office, knocking firmly on the closed door. When ZEN had called him for mess earlier, the AI reported back that he didn’t want to be disturbed, and the other six of you were to eat without him.

“Come in,” he voiced from within.

You entered, spotting him at the desk, hunched over reports with his head in his hand. “You missed breakfast.”

“Sorry, I… thinking.”

“About?” You asked, setting his food on the only empty space left on his desk.

“Thanks,” he took the food, moving some of his papers aside to put the plate front and center. “The Skippers that were on Aegeum, we still don’t know why they were there.”

“No, we don’t. Or why they were flying Fishead pods instead of their own ships.”

“I was just re-reading this report from the Admiral from before we entered slipspace. List of attacks by Fishead pirates, but there’s something off about a couple of them. The targets are all UHN scientific sites, not military vessels or trade outposts, and nothing was pillaged. Just destroyed.”

You tilted your head thoughtfully. “Were any K’llor spotted at the attacks, or only their ships?”

“It looks like they were just aerial attacks, cannon blasts. So, it would seem like a no.”

“If we assume those weren’t K’llor pirates driving those pods, and were actually more Skippers looking to destroy rather than plunder…”

“Two’s a coincidence, three’s a pattern.”

You sat in one of the chairs across his desk from him. “Were the facilities bigger or smaller than Aegeum?”

“Sites, not facilities,” Kun corrected you. “They weren’t even buildings. One was an unmanned space station in orbit around a meteor. It was ran entirely by robots, so it had no defenses. The other was a solar farm installed on a colony planet. They left the city it was powering alone.”

“So… no fatalities?”

“None. The city that lost their solar farm is running on back-up generators until the solar farm gets fixed.”

“If they were all Skippers, and they were all together, then what the hell happened on Aegeum?”

“They may not be in the same faction. Or they may have been at some point, then diverged only recently because of… differing ideals.”

“Still makes you wonder how they ended up at Aegeum in the first place…” You mused. “Doesn’t seem like a place you could really stumble upon accidentally.”

“No, not particularly.” Kun shook his head. After a beat of silence of him pushing food around on his plate and you silently mulling over what you had just been talking about, he changed the subject, “You got up early this morning.”

“Yeah, I was thinking, too.”

“…About?”

You shifted forward in your chair, resting your elbows on the desk in front of you and folding your arms together. “I understand that you’re worried about my having a lack of… choice in the matter, when it comes to this. And I can appreciate the sentiment, Kun, and where that concern stems from. But don’t you think, that in unilaterally ending our relationship supposedly for my own good, that also takes away my agency? The thing that you’re so worried about me keeping through all of this?”

Kun’s fork stilled over his food, and he swallowed as he held your gaze steadily. He slowly nodded, the weight of your words clearly resting heavily in the creases of his forehead. “I-I didn’t think of it like that. I’m sorry.”

“Do you trust me to make my own decisions? Even about this? Or do you really just think of me as a mindless, obedient robot?”

“No, I don’t think of you like that. God, Y/N, of course I don’t,” he denied, his voice troubled.

“Then you have to trust me to make decisions about us, too. You can’t just make them for me.”

“I…” He opened and closed his mouth, momentarily at a loss for words. “Can I digest this? Think, before we keep talking?”

“Of course,” you agreed, well aware of the gravity of your questions. Hopefully, your next ask would be lower impact, “Yangyang asked me to stop by the shop after breakfast, I’d like you to come with me, if you can.”

Kun gave you a small smile. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“No, she’s not something for you to experiment on,” Kun rejected Yangyang’s idea as soon as he had started pitching it, his voice biting.

“She’s all we have left of what they were doing,” Yangyang replied, gesturing to you zealously.

The captain stepped in between you and Yangyang, his fists clenched down by his sides. “Exactly. Don’t you think Y/N’s had enough people studying her? You’re not going to put her under your microscope next.”

You looked at your friend from around Kun, shaking your head for him to drop it for now. Yangyang held his hands up and started backing away towards the door of the lab. “I’m going to grab a juice…”

Kun watched him leave, his chest heaving with deep breaths.

“Kun… what’s wrong?” You asked calmly.

“What?” He looked back at you.

“You’re shaking.” You gently picked up one of his trembling hands.

“I’m angry,” he answered shortly. “Why aren’t you?”

“He’s trying to help.”

“Did you see his face? Liu’s just found a new toy. You’re not just some… specimen to be studied.”

“This is his field of study, he’s allowed some interest, I think. And I don’t think that’s all he thinks of me.” You watched as Kun started pacing, running a hand through his hair, visibly agitated. “You’re thinking about your program, aren’t you?”

He sighed bitterly. “We weren’t people to him. Especially not the discards.”

“That makes me angry.” Your blood simmered just hearing him talk about himself like that, so casually, as if it were an objective truth. “You’re not… disposable, Kun. You hold your crew together, and I… treasure you.”

“God…” Kun looked up at the ceiling again, and it was then that you saw tears forming at the corners of his eyes as they reflected the lights above him.

“Yangyang is not Dr. Yoon,” you said firmly.

He stopped his pacing, hung his head, then nodded. “No, he’s not. He’s a good kid.”

“Exactly.”

“Y/N…” He said your name weakly, desperately, looking up from his feet to your face. You saw the tear tracks on his cheeks.

“Yes?”

“It’s true, that you were created by Dr. Yoon. I wasn’t letting myself think about that earlier. But I don’t hate you.” He didn’t falter in his words in the slightest, determined, resolute, his mind made up. “You are probably the only good thing that has come out of that man’s existence.”

“I might’ve done awful things, back at the lab,” you said, warning him.

“Yeah…” He shrugged one shoulder almost sheepishly. “And I work for the head of Intelligence at the UHN, right now. Do you think my hands are clean?”

“I’ve never thought they are.”

“You’ve always been able to just see me. I’m sorry I was refusing to see you before, but I’m looking now, I promise.”

“Can you live with yourself? Not ever knowing… if it’s the First Law?”

“Roboethicists and robopsychologists can talk themselves to death on that, I don’t care. You were right. I wasn’t giving you any sort of autonomy by making a decision like this for you. So…” He inhaled softly, but in the dead quiet of the room, you could hear every rustle of fabric, every breath, every step he took closer to you. Kun held a hand out towards you. “I can’t offer you anything close to a normal life. Or really anything at all. Other than me.”

“That’s all I can give, too. Myself. You can accept that I am in love with you, whatever that means to me, just as I accept that you love me, however that reality presents itself to you. But…” You looked down at his hand, then back up at him. “Do you want whatever a robot’s love is?”

“You are more than enough, Y/N,” he pleaded.

You took his hand. “So are you.”

“All of you, how you were made, what you very well could have done, what you are… You are more than enough,” he repeated like a prayer, pulling you in closer at the same time that he stepped forward and wrapped his other arm around you, as if he hadn’t seen you in several lifetimes, holding you to him with a crushing strength that you hadn’t experienced from him before. You hugged him back as tight as you could, so he knew it was real, that you were real, and that you were here.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your cheek. “I’m sorry—”

“No, Kun,” you hushed him. “We both needed time. It’s okay. Thank you, for trying to do what you thought was best for me.”

“Are you sure about this? What Liu wants to do?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You pulled back from Kun’s embrace to look him in the eye. “I’m the proof. I was built there, and if we want to know what they were doing, we have to study me. I wouldn’t trust anybody more than you guys to do it.”

He cradled your cheek. “You’ll tell us as soon as your head hurts? You cannot push through the failsafe, Y/N.”

“I will, I promise,” you agreed, wiping at the drying tears on his cheeks. “I like my head in one piece.”

He stroked his thumb over your skin gently. “Yeah, me too.”

“Alright, ZEN,” you called out to the AI. “Can you get Yangyang back here?”

“Lieutenant Liu has been loitering outside the entrance for the past two minutes,” ZEN informed you.

“Of course,” Kun sighed, stepping away and turning towards the door. “Liu!”

Yangyang traipsed in, a nondescript juicebox in his hand. “Reporting for duty, Captain.”

“Explain your idea again, please.”

“Right, so, every robot’s positronic brain has a unique imprinting of positronic pathways,” the roboticist started. “New copies of the same model that are fresh off the assembly line might be nearly identical to begin with, but as they’re exposed to new stimuli, learn new things beyond their base impressions, those pathways will diverge and change.”

“So kind of like a fingerprint?” Kun asked.

“If your fingerprint changed after you learned trig for the first time, sure.”

“You want to look at the pathways in my brain closer,” you said. “Will you be able to figure out what I was imprinted with and what has been… divergence?”

“That’ll be a little bit of trial and error,” Yangyang replied regretfully. “I mean, I can assume that you were imprinted with knowledge of Outspacer, and obviously you’ve had to learn who we are… and using your brain’s positronic flows from those, I can start building a functional image of your pathways.”

“How will you access her brain?” Kun questioned. “You’re not going to open her skull, surely.”

“No, no,” the other man shook his head. “Y/N, still got that positronic Allen key on you?”

You reached into your pocket for the tool that Kun had returned to you yesterday. “Had a feeling we might be needing this. Diagnostic stasis or repair stasis?”

“Diagnostic. Sorry. But, I’m hoping you have a secondary active diagnostic stasis. If not, doing a functional positronic pathway image will be pretty much impossible, since you won’t be able to respond to any stimuli.”

Kun narrowed his eyes. “What’s the difference between this and the repair stasis, then?”

“Loss of muscle tone and level of awareness.” Yangyang took the tool from you, then grabbed a nearby notebook and pencil. “An active diagnostic stasis will keep you pretty much frozen in place unless you’re executing an order, Y/N. And you’ll be fully conscious. You ready?”

You sat up on the countertop. “Yeah, ready when you are.”

“Woah, wait,” Kun interjected before the positronic Allen key could be brought anywhere near your head. “What sorts of orders will you be giving her?”

“I won’t be giving any,” Yangyang answered defensively. “Just having her react to stimuli. It’ll look like we’re having an interview, kind of. Or a conversation.”

You gestured to one of the stools that was nearby. “Kun…”

He seemed to get the idea, pulling it up closer to your side and sitting down. Yangyang, meanwhile, rolled his stool in front of you, bringing with him his notebook, pencil, and the Allen key.

“I’ll probably have you help me, Captain, if that’s alright with you,” your friend kept talking as he flipped open to a new page, then leaned in towards you with the Allen key. “I’d love to map what the positronic flow of love looks like.”

This time, he found the spot at the base of your skull with precision, lining up the Allen key deftly. Kun watched the movements of his hand closely as he responded, “Just… having a conversation?”

Their voices faded out as your muscles froze up for a moment, then faded back in, before Yangyang drew his hand away from you and sat back in his stool. You still couldn’t move, but you could listen in on their conversation once again.

“…nothing weird, Liu,” Kun finished whatever warning he had been giving.

“Of course not, Captain,” Yangyang grinned, then turned to you. “Hey, Y/N. So you’re in active diagnostic stasis right now. We’re going to get started. Can you tell me your name?”

“Y/N,” you replied automatically.

“Great.” He sketched something onto his notebook, then grabbed a tablet from the counter. After a few taps, he turned it around to show you the screen. “Can you read this for me?”

It only took you a moment to read the Outspacer glyph. “Grain.”

“Cool.” He swiped, then showed you another. “This one?”

“River.”

“This?”

“Emergency communication.”

He set the tablet aside, grinning as he looked back down at his notebook. “Fantastic.” Then, he asked, “What did you have for breakfast today?”

“Oatmeal.”

“Who sat on your left at breakfast?”

“Corporal Wong Kunhang.”

“And who sat directly across from you?”

“Lieutenant Xiao Dejun.”

“Who did you meet first? Corporal Wong or Lieutenant Xiao?”

You were quiet, unable to formulate your response.

“Y/N?” Yangyang said your name. “Do you understand the question?”

“It’s unclear.”

“That’s okay, I’ll rephrase: Who did you encounter first in your life? Corporal Wong or Lieutenant Xiao? Regardless of if you knew their identity at the time.”

“Corporal Wong.”

“And who personally introduced themselves to you first? Corporal Wong or Lieutenant Xiao?”

“Lieutenant Xiao.”

Yangyang nodded, his pencil never stopping once while you were talking. “Great. What’s my name?”

“Lieutenant Liu Yangyang.”

“And where did you meet us? Myself, Corporal Wong, and Lieutenant Xiao.”

“Aegeum.”

“Who are the other members of our unit?”

“Staff Sergeant Ten Lee, Captain Qian Kun, Professor Dong Sicheng, and ZEN.”

“I’m going to have Captain Qian talk to you for a minute now.” Yangyang rolled out of your view.

Kun scooted into your vision, offering you a soft smile as he met your eyes. “Hey, Y/N…”

“She needs a more direct prompt if you want her to respond verbally, Captain. Either a question or an order,” Yangyang said.

“Shut up, Liu,” he responded through gritted teeth. After taking a deep breath, he addressed you gently, “Uhm, do you remember the story I told you about my parents? What my dad built for my mom?”

“A greenhouse, because your mother wanted to grow strawberries, but the climate on Dura-Jil was too cold.”

“Yeah, and—”

“I read about greenhouses.”

That seemed to catch Kun off-guard. “Wait, really? Why? We have ag bubbles.”

“I wanted to understand what love means to you.”

“Because I said when I think about what love is, I think about him building her a greenhouse.” He nodded in understanding.

“It’s an involved process, requiring a lot of thought and planning. Your father must have had to go to great lengths to get many of the materials for it on Dura-Jil.”

“My dad was an architect. I don’t think I’ve told you that, have I?”

“No.”

“That’s why we were one of the first families on Dura-Jil, he was overseeing the construction of the buildings. He was a civilian contractor with the UHN.” Kun cleared his throat, then said, “Liu has a few more questions for you, okay?”

Then Yangyang was back in front of you. “What other topics have you read about while you’ve been on the Vision?”

Kun brought the positronic Allen key down from your head, his eyes watching your face very carefully. You blinked, readjusting in your spot and rolling out your shoulders. You could recall your entire lengthy conversation with them, thought the memories felt slightly hazy, as if you had been half-asleep the entire time.

“Alright, I’ve—”

“Sorry, would you mind if I stood up while you talked?” You interrupted Yangyang sheepishly. “It feels like I’ve been sitting for a while…”

“Yeah, of course.”

Kun helped you off the counter, his hand hovering over you cautiously as you stood, until he seemed sure that your muscles would support you. Your limbs felt just fine, no aches in them, but you felt the need to move your joints around again.

“So I’ve got your positronic pathways mapped out,” Yangyang announced giddily, gripping his notebook with two hands.

“How could you even measure that though? All we did was talk, you didn’t have anything attached to me, and you couldn’t see my brain,” you asked curiously, grabbing one of your arms to stretch it across your chest.

“You were indicating the positronic flows with your fingers.”

“Wait, really?” You looked down at your hands.

“Yeah, it looked like you were playing the piano on your knees the whole time,” Kun replied, his brow furrowed. “You didn’t feel that?”

“No, I didn’t even realize I was doing it.”

Yangyang’s face lit up. “We should totally do this again with a piano under your hands! Hearing the positronic pathways as music? That’d be so cool!”

“Liu, focus,” Kun said sternly.

“Right, anyway. Here it is!” He turned the notebook around for you to see what he had been sketching.

You couldn’t tell what you were looking at. It definitely didn’t look like a human brain, or even what the components on the x-ray had looked like. If anything, it looked like some combination of abstract art and quantum physics. Intersecting curved lines, straight lines, circles, the occasional indication of a charge or other scientific symbol, some numbers. It was fascinating to look at, and sort of beautiful in a strange way, but you definitely wouldn’t be able to identify it as a brain, much less your brain, without being told that.

“…What was the point of this?” Kun asked frankly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It looks very complex,” you added. “What does it tell you? And what will you be able to do with it?”

“Well, first of all, the degree complexity is interesting. You see these more condensed areas?” He gestured to a few areas on the page where the drawing was more congested with information than others. “We call those nodules. Some robots’ impressions will only have two nodules: The Three Laws, and then whatever their pre-programmed job is. Those are basic robots, meant to do one thing. You have a lot, as well as sub-nodules, but I also watched you gain a sub-nodule in real time as we were mapping.”

“What sub-nodule?”

“When you were talking to the captain, he gave you new information about himself, about his dad, his family,” Yangyang rambled on with enthusiasm. “What a thrill… Anyway, you’re very dynamic.”

“Uh, thank you?”

He laughed. “You’re welcome. But also, that means something when it comes to positronic brain construction. You’re able to construct new nodules and sub-nodules on your own, as well as modify or combine existing ones when presented with new information. Pretty advanced stuff. You obviously weren’t designed to be a one-trick pony. You don’t have the most nodules I’ve ever seen in a positronic brain, but you had all your non-impressed knowledge wiped, to be fair. By my estimate, you’ll surpass that other brain in… a couple weeks maybe?”

“How old was the other brain? With… more nodules?” You asked curiously, hoping you were using the jargon correctly.

“Several years old.” He beamed. “And, I was able to confirm that you were ordered to wipe everything that wasn’t impressed. You see, when data is wiped from a robot, the data itself can be entirely erased. However, it’s like leveling a house. The house may no longer be there, but the foundation is still in the ground. The positronic pathways from when the robot did have that data still exist, sort of.”

“You can see the pathways from the data that I wasn’t impressed with, but you can’t tell what that data was?”

He nodded. “The pathways are there, but since they haven’t been used, they’re degraded.”

“We have no clue what the house looked like just because we can see the foundation,” Kun sighed.

“Exactly.”

“This degradation,” the captain continued. “Is it bad? For her?”

“No.” Yangyang quickly shook his head. “They weren’t for any sort of sort of critical functions, as those would’ve been in her factory impressions, and they won’t spread to any other pathways that are currently being used.”

“Good.”

“Did this tell you anything about Aegeum?” You questioned nervously.

The roboticist tapped the eraser end of his pencil to his paper. “This is one of the most advanced positronic brains I’ve seen, and I’d love do another mapping in the future, if you’d let me.”

“Why does it sound like you’re hedging, Liu?” Kun cut in.

“But… I can only learn so much under the current circumstances.”

“You’re not opening her skull up.”

“That’s not what I was going to say!” He defended himself. “I meant… she’s not a robot. I can’t study her like one. I’m not even 100% what parts of her are flesh and blood and which aren��t, other than the positronic brain.”

“Do you think we should call Dejun here too?” You suggested.

Kun hesitated. “Why?”

“Well, we know I have a positronic brain, but the field scanner and the infirmary scanner thought I was plenty human enough when he tested me. And, I obviously bleed, sleep, and eat too.”

“She’s right. We thought we were on the trail of… something else down on Aegeum. Getting a doctor’s second opinion on the fleshy parts couldn’t hurt,” Yangyang offered his support.

Kun approached you, holding your gaze seriously. “Are you sure about this? The more people know…”

“I trust Dejun,” you affirmed. “I trust all of you.”

“Go get him, Liu,” Kun directed. ZEN had been put on a blackout again for the actual mapping, meaning that he couldn’t just ask the AI to page him.

“On it!”

“You’re fucking with me,” Dejun deadpanned.

“Nope.” Yangyang shook his head, feet kicked up on one of his workbenches, having just explained why he’d dragged the doctor to the robotics lab.

“Y/N doesn’t get Earth humor, fine. But how did you get the captain to go along with this weird as fuck joke, Liu?” Dejun pointed to where you and Kun were standing off to the side.

“It’s not a prank!”

“She bleeds!”

“I know.”

“And breathes! And sleeps! And eats! And has vitals that can be picked up by diagnostic scanners!”

“Those only look for the presence of an illness or disease, right? Or abnormal heartrate or breathing?” Yangyang pointed out.

“Yeah…”

“So, an absence of certain things wouldn’t register. She’s got a heart and lungs, as best I can guess.” He continued, “Positronic brain confirmed. Everything else… we’re a bit less certain about.”

Your friend looked over at you, squinting in clear confusion, then back to Yangyang. “I… Huh?”

“Need a consult, Doc,” Yangyang grinned.

You sat down again for Dejun to start his exam. He brought over a few things from the infirmary, one of which was an ordinary stethoscope. He put the earpieces in his ears, then held the other end up to your chest. Everyone was silent as he listened.

“Yeah, okay, heartbeat. It’s… normal. Normal resting heartrate,” he murmured. “I’m going to listen to your breathing now.” He moved it to another place on your chest and paused again. After a moment, he switched it to his other hand and gently touched the back of your shoulder. “Forward.”

You leaned forward for him to reposition the stethoscope, and at the same time out of the corner of your eye, you could see Kun tense up and unfold his arms.

“Xiao,” Yangyang said urgently.

“What?” Dejun paused, sounding annoyed to have been interrupted.

“The Three Laws. Careful with your requests,” the roboticist reminded him.

“Don’t order her around,” Kun said more bluntly.

Dejun blinked and looked down at you, clearly startled out of his usual routine for an exam like this. “Oh. Right, sorry. Forgot you were… Sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s fine, Dejun,” you reassured him. “I didn’t… It didn’t process like an order.”

“I need to listen to your breath sounds. Can you take a few deep breaths for me?” He requested, looking between Kun, you, and Yangyang hesitantly, as if to see if he had said that correctly. When you felt him place the stethoscope on your back, you breathed in then out, deeply, as he had asked. After a few breaths, he said, “Okay, and normal breathing now?”

You evened out your breathing again, and he listened for a few moments, then drew back. Dejun took the earpieces out and hung the stethoscope around his neck, putting his hands on his hips.

“Well?” You prompted him.

“Those were definitely lung sounds. And I mean, you’ve already breathed into my field scanner, so I don’t know if it would’ve made more or less sense for you to not have them,” he declared. Next, he tested all your reflexes, then contraction and dilation of your pupils. “You have a heart, lungs, a circulatory system of some kind, and immune system, since you haven’t been bleeding uncontrollably from that cut you got. I’ve personally seen you eat, drink, sneeze, cough, and at least a dozen other normal, involuntary human reflexes.”

“Oh, about the cut…” You grabbed the end of your bandages, quickly unwinding them and taking off the pristine gauze that was underneath. Turning your hand, you displayed your unmarred palm.

Dejun took your arm to look at it closer, then looked at your other one as if to double-check that he was looking at the correct one. He held it up closer to one of Yangyang’s table lamps, running his fingertip over where the cut should have been.

“No scar?” He pushed on it with his thumb in disbelief. “Pain? Tightness? Muscle or tissue damage?”

“No, nothing. It’s been like this since the day after I cut it. I don’t know exactly how fast it healed, but it was less than a day.”

“Seriously?”

“I saw it when I went to change her first bandage. It was like nothing ever happened,” Kun confirmed.

“That’s…” Dejun trailed off and sighed. “Again, I don’t know if that makes more or less sense than her healing at a normal speed.”

“My turn,” Yangyang stood up, walking over to the x-ray machine that had started this whole thing. “Since the captain made me destroy the last image I took—Y/N, you mind?”

“Oh, sure.” You followed him.

“This is why you took my portable head x-ray machine?” Dejun asked incredulously as Yangyang got you situated, then went back over to his computer. “I thought you were just being a weirdo and wanted x-rays of your own head!”

“Xiao…” Kun’s voice held an air of warning. “Next time Liu is ‘being a weirdo’ like that, let me know.”

The process was as quick and painless as before, and you all gathered around Yangyang’s screen as the images processed and loaded up. Despite knowing what it looked like, somehow, you were still as baffled as before. Like there was still some part of you expecting a human brain. You didn’t know if it was the old order conflicting with your personal knowledge, or if you just couldn’t believe that that was your brain that you were looking at.

“Holy shit,” Dejun breathed out.

“Positronic brain,” Yangyang declared, as if it weren’t apparent enough to the doctor that he wasn’t looking at a human brain.

“Alright, I believe you now.”

Kun cleared his throat. “Liu—”

“Yep, deleting right now,” Yangyang quickly erased all the films he had just taken.

“Who knows?” Dejun asked you.

“Just the people in this room,” you informed him. “Even ZEN’s knowledge is somewhat limited, he’s on blackout right now.”

Dejun’s eyes strayed over to the captain.

“I’ve suspended us in slipspace and haven’t reported a word of this to Admiral Lee,” Kun answered his unspoken question, clearly bristling at the implication. “Nor do I intend to. Our story stays the same: We found a human survivor on Aegeum with amnesia.”

“I’d like to take some samples, if that’s alright.” Dejun’s focused back on you. “Blood, cheek swab, nothing invasive.”

“Sure,” you agreed.

Dejun took the cheek swab first, then prepared your arm to take the blood sample. Unlike the field scanner, which just needed a pinprick from your finger to get a quick rundown of your vitals, he apparently needed a bit more for the tests he wanted to run this time.

“Y/N, what you were saying earlier, about not processing Dejun telling you to sit forward like an order, what do you mean by that?” Yangyang asked as Dejun wrapped a band around your upper arm.

“I mean, I guess I knew that it was a request and not an order? Like, it didn’t shut me down like the order you gave me. I did what he asked, but there was no reason for me not to, you know?” You explained, trying your best to articulate the difference between the two experiences.

Yangyang tilted his head, his eyes once again glittering with that studious fascination. “How did you know it wasn’t an order?”

“I mean, his tone of voice, and the context? He was giving me directions for the exam, but it wasn’t really an order, right?”

“Oh my God…”

“What? She’s right. I wouldn’t have forced her to lean forward if she said no for some reason. I definitely didn’t think I was ordering her around,” Dejun scoffed, preparing the needle and collection tube. “Y/N, small pinch.”

You felt when the needle pierced your skin, but your focus was still on Yangyang, who was now pacing the room and gesturing furtively.

“Well, early robots did everything that any human told them to do, usually very literally. No room for sarcasm, no nuance. All orders were of the same level of importance. Then, they started being able to prioritize based on who gave an order, as they were given capabilities to create hierarchies of people in relation to themselves—only for the Second Law.” He then pointed to you. “But Y/N is the first I’ve heard of not only deciphering tone and context, but also then using that to determine if she was actually given an order or not.”

“So… what we do? Understanding social cues?” Kun arched an eyebrow, seeming unimpressed.

“That almost sounds like she doesn’t have a Second Law. Or at least not a very effective one, if she can think her way around it,” Dejun added skeptically. Having finished, he held a cotton ball to the site as he untied the band around your arm. “Here, I’ll get you a band-aid.”

“I don’t think you need to,” you reminded him quietly.

Dejun tentatively lifted up the cotton swab, and sure enough, there wasn’t any indication that you had just had a needle in your arm. No bruising, no blood, no small pinprick hole to be found. He silently nodded, turning away and bringing his materials with him.

Yangyang continued with his explanation, “Okay, think of it like this. We’re given a command, and based on tone, context, word choice, and other social cues, come to the conclusion that it’s an order. Despite knowing it’s an order, we can still choose not to obey it. Y/N, on the other hand, once she determines that she’s been given an order, she has to follow through. Like she said before, the Second Law shuts down her other systems until she’s executed it.”

“I’m not sitting there thinking it through like that… but yes, I think so,” you agreed.

“It all happens in less than a millisecond, like it does for us.”

Kun rubbed his face thoughtfully. “So she still has a Second Law, but what other robots might interpret as an order, and would therefore trigger their Second Law, Y/N might not interpret as an order, and wouldn’t have her Second Law triggered?”

“Exactly. Makes for much more natural interactions, especially if you want to treat the not-quite-robot you’ve made uh, not like a robot.”

“So, you guys think Y/N was… made there? On Aegeum?” Dejun asked, wincing over the word ‘made.’

“That’s the… working hypothesis,” Yangyang answered tentatively.

“So, she’s the proof of concept, then? Of the robot-people?”

You touched your forehead instinctively as a dull, familiar pain started up in your head again.

“Y/N?” Kun rested a hand on your back. “Your head?”

“Yeah…”

“We’re done,” he declared forcefully. No room for arguing.

Dejun looked between Kun ushering you to your feet, and Yangyang, who was watching the two of you somberly, with bewilderment and concern. “What’s—”

“I’ll explain in a minute, Xiao,” Yangyang said quietly. “Let the captain get Y/N out of here first.”

In your cabin, Kun sat you down on the single bed. He cupped your cheek to lift your gaze to him as he stood in front of you, eyes tracking over your face. “How’s your head?”

“Better,” you assured him, placing your hand over his. “You can’t be mad at Dejun, he didn’t know.”

“No, but I can be worried, and afraid of your head… of the fact that you have a self-destruct button that we can’t disarm.”

“I’m okay, Kun.”

“This time,” he added bitterly. “I get why you hate what I’ve been doing, with my enhancements degrading. The way I was acting. Why you called me a pathetic idiot. I don’t like seeing you like this either, especially when it doesn’t have to be happening.”

“You should tell the others, about me,” you said. “What I am, orders, the failsafe, everything.”

Kun sat down next to you. “Are you sure?”

“We didn’t know enough before. It would’ve been too much, for everyone. But we know enough to be able to tell them something, and to tell them what we don’t know. And you need to tell them everything. So nobody accidentally triggers the failsafe or gives me an order. Or asks why we aren’t at Earth in a week.”

He nodded with a resigned agreement. “And I have to tell them…”

“So you can speak candidly and they can ask whatever questions they need to. Without worrying about my head.”

“That’s not fair to you,” he stated.

You reached over to take his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “But it’s what will keep my head in one piece, isn’t it?”

Kun looked at the time on the wall clock above your cabin door. “There’s still a few hours before mess… Can I do it then?”

“Sure,” you chuckled. “Can I make a request in return?”

“Of course.”

“Will you sing for me?”

He looked at you with genuine shock. “Excuse me?”

“When you and Yangyang were talking about the piano earlier, I realized… I’ve never heard music.”

“God damn it… Hold on.” Kun moved around until he was sitting up against the headboard, then gestured for you to come closer. “Come here.”

“What?”

“I’m not going to do this with you looking at me. So—” He once again motioned for you.

Reclined back against him, your head against his chest and his arms around your waist, you definitely could not see his face from this angle. You were looking out at the desk and the dresser, in fact.

You half-expected him to try to dissuade you again, as he cleared his throat from behind you. But instead, the next thing you heard was the quiet, uncertain beginnings of a hum. He slowly added more words to the tune, every so often dropping back into a hum. His voice never rose above a quiet murmur right beside your ear, a performance just for you. It was a simple melody, only a few notes, and repeated over the few verses. But you found yourself enthralled the whole time, never wanting it to end.

His soft singing faded out, and he cleared his throat again, signaling the end of the song.

“Can you sing it again? Please?” You didn’t dare look back, not wanting to startle him from fulfilling your request, but you grabbed his hands tightly, hoping to pass along your enthusiasm through your touch.

“Really? It was just a nursery rhyme my mom used to sing. I don’t think I’m even a very good singer…”

“I liked it.”

“Alright,” he sighed, a tinge of fondness in the word as he leaned forward to press a featherlight kiss to your cheek.

So far, this wasn’t as big of a shitstorm as Kun had been expecting, really. The crew who didn’t already know were understandably shocked, but ultimately, let the other three finish briefing them with minimal interruptions or questions.

“So Y/N’s a…” The Professor trailed off, looking to Liu to fill in.

“Humanoid,” the roboticist offered tentatively. “So far the only robotic part we’ve found is her brain.”

“You say that like she has a prosthetic pinky toe,” Ten retorted. “It’s her brain.”

“Ten, come on, dude. It’s Y/N,” Wong scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

“I’m not saying we deactivate her or throw her in a cell or anything. I’m just trying to make sure we all understand the gravity of the situation.” The pilot sat forward in his chair. “She’s clearly the proof of concept that they were trying to preserve by doing a partial scrub. The question is what use is to she to them like this? No offense to her, Captain, I’m not calling her an idiot, I’m saying they erased her memories and convinced her she was a normal human. Whatever she was doing for them before the partial scrub, she doesn’t know how to do it now.”

“Maybe she has some component to whatever they were doing there that’s vital enough to risk her being discovered,” the Professor suggested.

“Right, Liu said they could have backed up her data externally. Maybe they were planning on this being temporary. They knew they were about to be found out for whatever they were doing, and had to get out, but couldn’t bring Y/N for whatever reason. So they make an external back-up of all her sensitive data with the intent of putting it back in later and, you know, picking back up where they left off. But they wipe it off her memory banks so if she’s found in the meantime, whoever finds her has nothing.”

Kun interjected here, “I’m telling you, Y/N didn’t—”

“You think they just kept one of the most advanced robots—sorry, humanoid—Liu has ever seen around a top-secret, illegal, unsanctioned lab for conversation?” Ten retorted, then seemed to catch himself, and added as an afterthought, “…Sir.”

“Captain, we all like Y/N…” Liu assured him.

“She’s one of us, just like ZEN,” Xiao jumped in to defend you as well.

“But that doesn’t mean we can ignore the fact that she was definitely involved in whatever was going on in that place. Somehow,” Ten argued.

“We don’t know how. Or if,” Kun reiterated forcefully.

The Professor quickly tried to smooth over the rising tensions in the room, “You’re right.”

“I mean, I just think it’s crazy that they took her memories from her—her entire life—and you guys are assuming that there’s going to be proof she did all this awful shit in there!” Kun was on his feet now, he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stay in his seat another moment, not when a righteous anger was electrifying every inch of his being now.

“And you’re assuming that it’s going to be the opposite.” Ten remained seated, but no less impassioned then before.

“No, I’m saying we don’t know! So we can’t just treat her like a criminal because we’re assuming she’s going to be one!”

“Nobody’s doing that,” Wong tried to placate the captain now. He repeated, “She’s one of us, Captain.”

“She’s not here. We’re talking about her without her. That doesn’t seem like she’s one of us,” Xiao stated bitterly.

“Right, so you want her head to rip itself apart from the inside?” Liu reminded him.

“I would have preferred to be able to have Y/N here as well, but we needed the ability to discuss this openly without risking her safety,” Kun said regretfully.

“I hate this,” the doctor announced.

The captain sighed. “So do I, Xiao.”

“Uh, I feel like we’re all forgetting something here?” Wong spoke up hesitantly.

“What?” Kun asked shortly.

“Y/N’s a robot… kind of. The First Law? She can’t hurt a human.”

“She could’ve not known what they were doing,” Ten immediately proposed.

“Then that blows a hole in your whole theory that she was crucial!” The captain retaliated.

“There’s been loopholes found in the First Law before. Robots who were convinced some kinds of people weren’t humans. Robots who were convinced that hurting individual humans for the greater good of humanity was okay. And then of course, we have robot surgeons,” ZEN gave his own incredibly helpful input at that moment.

“Did I ask for a fucking encyclopedia article?” Kun snapped at the AI.

The Professor waved his hands to get everybody’s attention, declaring, “This conversation is getting us nowhere.”

Kun stood up straighter and rolled out his neck, taking a deep breath to recenter himself. This was not the level-headed leader he wanted to be for his first crew. “The Professor’s right. This isn’t productive. I wanted to debrief you all now since we know more, and also for Y/N’s safety.”

“Yeah, what was Liu talking about her head ripping itself apart from inside?” Wong asked, clearly concerned.

“The failsafe, that we had mentioned earlier,” Liu took over explaining this part. “Specifically, the mechanism is in her head, and the best that we’ve been able to figure out, it’s to prevent anybody who may have found her in her amnesiac state from finding out too much about the experiments they were doing, while also having her, uhm, intact.”

“She gets headaches, usually around stuff having to do with the people-robots on Aegeum. That’s the failsafe. If you’re talking to Y/N, or within earshot of Y/N, and her head starts hurting even a little bit, shut the fuck up. Talk about anything else,” Kun instructed, deadly serious.

“So it’s like a game of hot or cold of if we’re on the right track?” Ten tilted his head curiously.

“A game that we’re not fucking playing,” Xiao smacked his teammate’s arm. “Because winning means Y/N’s head exploding.”

“Why do you people assume the worst of me? Fuck…” he grumbled, rubbing his bicep. “I was going to suggest that we could try to reconstruct what was being talked about when Y/N got her previous headaches. Not give her new ones.”

“ZEN, look through your archives,” Kun instructed. “Next: Orders. Do not give her a direct order.”

“Y/N’s really good at distinguishing what’s an order, or direction, or suggestion, or question,” Liu clarified. “But so far, it seems like the word ‘order’ triggers her Second Law.”

“So like, what can we say to her? Like, if I’m fixing the coffee maker—” Wong got interrupted by incredulous sounds from the others. “—and she’s closer to the wrench, can I ask her to hand me it?”

“Yes, you can say ‘Can you hand me the wrench?’” Kun affirmed. “Just don’t be demanding, and don’t use the word ‘order.’ Third: No flying knives.” He was practically boring holes into Wong with his eyes.

“I haven’t done any knife tricks since that happened!” Wong defended himself.

“That goes for everyone. No doing stupid shit that could get you hurt around her. I don’t care if you’re willing to risk slicing your finger off because you’re spinning a knife around, unless you’re also willing to risk slicing Y/N’s finger off, don’t do it.”

“First Law. She will intervene,” Liu added, in case they had somehow forgotten about your positronic brain the past ten seconds.

“Uh, Captain…?” The Professor tentatively raised his hand. “We’re on a pretty dangerous mission. Does this mean you've changed your mind about keeping Y/N aboard?”

Kun’s brows were furrowed as he evaluated the options in front of him, none of which seemed like good ones. “Leaving her somewhere else in order to keep her safe in regards to the Second Law would require briefing whoever she went with about what she is, which would put her in an entirely different kind of danger.”

“So she’s staying?”

“I wish there was a better option, but yes.” The captain watched the uncertain glances that his crew were exchanging. “I’m not asking that this affect the way you do your job. However, outside of the mission, when you’re around Y/N, don’t be doing stupid shit you don’t need to be doing. She’s not made of metal. If it’ll hurt you, it’ll hurt her.”

There were murmurs of agreement and head nods, and Kun let out the breath he’d been holding unwillingly.

“Any questions?”

After everyone else filtered out to go to mess, Kun remained on the bridge, sitting in his seat at the head of the table. He held his head in his hands as a hologram of a green cube materialized in front of him. The captain didn’t even react, continuing to stare through the transparent projection.

“I think that went well, Captain,” ZEN declared. Kun couldn’t tell if the AI was taking pity on him.

“If the crew can survive this, I think we can survive anything,” Kun stated, not sounding very optimistic about the chances. Shaking himself out of his despondent spiral, he asked, “Where’s Y/N? At mess?”

“I let her know the meeting was over and she thought it best to wait for you, Captain. She’s in your cabin.”

“Thanks, ZEN. I’ll go see her.”

Mess wasn’t as awkward as you had been expecting. Sure, the crew had some questions, especially when you took your first bite of food, but they were all pretty tame, and seemed to come from genuine curiosity, not suspicion.

“What else needs to be done before the slipdrive can be reactivated, Captain?” Ten asked between bites of food.

“Xiao, how long will your tests take?” Kun turned to the doctor.

“Should all be done by tomorrow,” Dejun answered.

“Liu, anything else pertinent that we need to take care of before arriving on Earth?”

The roboticist let out a puff of air as he looked up at the ceiling, thinking. After a moment, he brought his eyes back down and shook his head. “Nah, all clear here.”

“Pending the results of the tests that Xiao is running, we’ll be turning the slipdrive back to propulsion soon.”

That got them excited again, one step closer to shore leave, the crisis of the evening almost completely pushed from the crew’s mind. Almost.

“Hey, Y/N,” Kunhang got your attention, mischievous grin on his face. “Xiao said something about how you’ve got super-healing. You up for a drinking contest on Earth?”

“You’ve watched way too many old superhero movies, Wong,” Dejun scoffed. “You think she’s going to have a superhuman metabolism and not be affected by alcohol, right?”

Ten, meanwhile, was laughing. “She’s probably never had a drink! She’s going to be a lightweight!”

And of course that set them all (including the Professor and Yangyang) off into a debate about, theoretically, based off what they did know about your physiology, whether or not you’d process alcohol like an average human or not. You looked over to Kun with amusement, and found his eyes already on you. Quirking an eyebrow up at him inquisitively, you didn’t receive a verbal reply, but instead he reached over to briefly squeeze your arm before dropping his hand back down to his lap.

“What’s Earth like?” You asked Kun as you prepared his injections that night.

“Tired of hearing about Dura-Jil?” He teased, settling in on his front.

“That isn’t the only place you’ve lived,” you pointed out. “And we’re on our way to Earth. I’m curious.”

“I didn’t go to Earth when I was 15. I went there after.”

He didn’t say it, but you knew where he had been in between Dura-Jil and Earth. The program.

“When you enrolled in the Academy?” You disinfected the injection area.

“Yeah. Couldn’t believe how blue that sky was…”

You aligned his first injection. “Is it a similar color the sky in the ag bubble?”

“Sometimes.”

Click.

“But Earth has weather, and clouds,” Kun continued, humor in his voice. “Central, the city that UHN Main is located in, it’s got all four seasons. I think we’ll be coming back in late summer. I kind of wish you could see snow. It’s got a big military population, Central, obviously, but the city’s so huge that if you can get a few blocks away from the UHN Main building itself, you can kind of forget that. As long as you don’t see a solder in uniform.”

As you listened to Kun gradually and sporadically paint you a picture of Earth, you could feel the soft, persistent smile on your lips, even as you had to switch out his med-pod, which didn’t make him falter or stutter. He was telling you about a restaurant within walking distance of UHN Main that he used to frequent when he was on Earth between missions when the second med-pod clicked again, signaling it had finished. You disposed of the materials and sat back down next to him, up by the pillow he was resting his upper half on.

To your pleasant surprise, he didn’t immediately roll over or sit up this time, simply looking at you over his arm. You ran a hand over his hair, dropping it down to rest it on his shoulderblade.

“I can’t wait for you to get your adjustments,” you sighed. “How long is the procedure?”

“An hour or so,” he informed you. “I’ll have Xiao wait with you.”

“Dejun should be able to enjoy his shore leave with the rest of the crew.”

“I’m sure he’ll want to wait with you anyway. It’s what friends are for.”

You stretched a finger out to trace his cheek with your fingertip. “Does it hurt?”

“No, I feel fine,” he promised. “Still doing good on two med-pods.”

“I meant the adjustment.”

“Oh, I’m under anesthesia for it. Don’t feel a thing.”

“And after?”

“A little stiff for a day or so, but after that, good as new.”

Before you could respond, there was a rapid-fire series of knocks on your cabin door, and you exchanged a bewildered, concerned look with Kun. You stood up as Kun slowly began shifting himself into a sitting position.

Dejun was on the other side, and you didn’t hide your confusion as you looked him up and down in his pajamas as he stood in the hall. “Uhm, hi?”

“Can I come in?” He requested quietly, his brow furrowed deeply, a look of worry cut deeply into his features.

“Sure.” You stepped back, opening the door further for him to enter.

“This couldn’t have waited until morning, Xiao?” Kun asked flatly, clearly disgruntled at the nighttime disturbance.

“I’m not Wong, I take no joy in this.” He gestured wildly to his surroundings and the three of you. “But no, this felt rather urgent.”

The captain sighed, “Go on…”

“The tests I was running. A few of them came back. I also ran another test on the sample from the lab on Aegeum.”

“I thought you already did all the testing you could with that sample. It was human, right? The other results were largely inconclusive.”

“Yeah, yeah. But I realized I could run another test, actually.” Your friend was clearly agitated about whatever it was, fidgeting, unable to stand in one place.

“And?” You prompted him.

He met your gaze, face clearly filled with regret and a deep want to not be saying this to you. “It’s a partial DNA match for you.”

“Partial? Like she’s related to it somehow?” Kun questioned.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a familial connection… I sequenced the genes and they’re almost identical.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, the differences in these genes wouldn’t come about from the natural shuffling of genes that happens during reproduction, or even familial variations. It looks… more precise.”

“Genetic modification?” You guessed.

“More like genetic design.”

“So Y/N and the sample you found…” Kun trailed off, and you weren’t sure if he didn’t know how to finish his own sentence, or didn’t want to.

“Same base DNA, different modifications,” Dejun did it for him anyway.

“Clones?” You could feel your eyebrow shoot up.

Dejun rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “If you want to be crude.”

“And what’s the not crude way to say that, Xiao?” Kun snipped.

“I’m just saying, we don’t call identical twins clones…” The doctor replied levelly. After a beat of you and Kun still wrapping your minds around the information, Dejun cleared his throat and added, “The sample was all undifferentiated cells—stem cells—it wasn’t… developed like you are, Y/N. Uhm, for what’s that worth.”

“Oh, okay…” You said just to say something, grabbing your upper arms and holding yourself tightly.

“Anything else, Xiao?” Kun asked tersely, already getting to his feet.

“Nope, nope, I’ll show myself out,” Dejun scrambled for the door. “Sorry, goodnight, and uhm, sorry again.”

You heard the door close behind you. Looking up at the ceiling, you could feel the tears gathering in your eyes before you even knew why they were there. They easily eked out the corners of your eyes and slipped down your cheeks.

“What are we going to do, Kun…?” You whispered, your voice coming out as a nearly unrecognizable squeak.

“ZEN, set the slipdrive to propulsion.” Kun’s stern command made you turn your head towards him in confusion. But his brow was set with determination, just like it had been when he’d suspended it in the first place.

“Are you sure, Captain?” ZEN questioned an order from Kun for the first time that you’d ever heard.

“Yes. Then go on blackout.” After a beat, the cabin was quiet, save for your shaking breaths, and the sound of Kun’s feet as he padded over to you. He wiped his thumbs over the wetness on your face, holding your gaze steadily as he answered your question, “We’ll be arriving on Earth in two weeks. The crew will go on shore leave. I’ll give my full report to Admiral Lee about Aegeum, the human survivor we found there with amnesia, and Dr. Yoon being alive. I’ll get my tune-ups. If we have time, I’ll take you to a concert to see some real music, live. And then we’ll go where the Admiral sends us.”

Keep going. Don’t pick the scab.

You gulped. “What if he sends us to find Dr. Yoon?”

You weren’t sure if you ever wanted to see the man who made you, whose experiments, in one way or another, got all those people killed on Aegeum, who did what he did to Kun…

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” His voice stayed steady.

“You said Admiral Lee has never lied to you. Why are you willing to lie to him, for me?”

“I already told you. All I can offer is me. You’re the first person who I got to choose to give that to.” Kun smiled bittersweetly with his words, still cradling the side of your face, giving him the perfect view for when your tears rose back up. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

“I was just thinking about your program again. And Aegeum…” You admitted, bringing your own hand to your damp undereyes. “Do you still think you’re… not human?”

“I’m certainly an experiment that they didn’t plan on living this long. But I did, which let me meet you. So whatever I am, I’m lucky.”

“Then we’re two experiments, created for something, and choosing each other instead.”

Kun chuckled softly. “You know, I actually think I like that a lot better than cyborg or humanoid or clone or whatever else.”

“Me too.” You wrapped your arms around his waist to hold him closer. “I love you, Kun.”

“I love you, too,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead.

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