#the chapter that tortured me beyond believe | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tsukimefuku · 5 months

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the event (1) ❖ nanami kento

this part → part 2 (soon) | mdni! | the nile is a river in egypt 👍

summary: after struggling for so long with the feelings you had for nanami, your colleague and closest friend, you finally decide to put an end to your misery and confess to him. little did you know there was no misery left for you to wallow in that night — none at all. alternatively: nanami was a gentleman, but holy hell, given the context, there weren't many ways he could misunderstand the phrase "I want you".

tags: jujutsu kaisen, sorcerer!f!reader, colleagues in the field, 18+, alcohol, explicit! smut (oral f!receiving, piv, squirting), 1/3 plot 2/3 filth ratio, it’s romance guys, nanami x reader, reader is emotionally stunted, they're clearly in love, angst, fluff, hurt and comfort, basically a book chapter, no beta my inner demons proofread this.

wc: 8k

notes, etc.: if i have to rewrite this one more time i will commit a felony. inspo → just like you do (carly simon) and sonnet (the verve). saved by smooth operator (sade). the bit "love is something brave people do" is inspired by fleabag's last episode. appetizers for this fic are the shorties “would you let me die?” and “where does your mind drift”.

❖ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist

this is big but very worth it, i promise.

Today, you were determined to finally utter those three words and put an end to your own personal brand of misery.

Ever since you and Nanami kind of discussed if getting involved would be a bad idea — he said it would, but you had your doubts — you just couldn't stop thinking about it. He knew you had feelings for him. Maybe. He mentioned that he believed you thought about him.

But the thing was… nothing was actually said. It was all implied. Implied into oblivion.

You two had been working together for a good while now, and you didn't fail to notice that, in the most recent encounters you've had, be it on missions or just having a drink at your favorite bar, your heart would involuntarily throb whenever you gazed at him for too long.

Not only that, but you were finally able to admit to yourself that your gratitude towards the sorcerer, who saved your life years ago, had become love. You were, without a shred of a doubt, in love with him, and the fact that he clearly stated that getting involved would be ill-advised — his words, not yours — was a special type of torture.

So be it — you were confessing your feelings for him today, at least to have a definitive answer. It would be better to get shot down than keep doing this little tip-toe dance around the unsaid. You just couldn't do this anymore.

Thing was… You were terrible with feelings. And words. And putting feelings into words. And also just feeling your feelings, in general.

So you decided to invite him to a bar — like you always did —, and chat the night away — again, like you always did — to try easing yourself into this conversation in a comfortable, known setting. Your drinks were downed until the middle of the night like you were filling up a Jeep tank, trying to fuel yourself with liquor-bought courage.

Eventually you slowed down, because certainly throwing up would be less than ideal. Better to be sober and chicken out than drunk and vomiting.

You were so in your own head, though, that you failed to realize Nanami was accompanying you in the "getting completely hammered" department until about a few hours prior, partially regaining his sobriety, with a lot of things swirling around in his own mind.

Mostly, he still thought about the non-conversation you both had about thinking of each other. More specifically, the fact that you inquired, right at the end, if it would really be such a bad idea.

Would it?

Could he dare to dream of a life beyond killing curses and hoping not to die every time he stepped his foot into a mission?

He wasn't sure about it anymore, and could feel his usual negative stance about getting romantically involved with someone while still being a jujutsu sorcerer wavering — an absolute first for him. He was hardly someone to be swayed on his stances in life.

But this time, just maybe, you were able to do that without even realizing.

He caught himself gazing at you more frequently than usual, and wondering what would be the texture of your flower-scented hair tangled in between his fingers.

Today, your hair smelled like jasmine flowers.

Unlike you, however, Nanami was unsure if he'd touch upon the subject that night, specifically, in case he ever decided to do so. He’d prefer to talk about it in an appropriate setting — dinner at a restaurant, maybe? No, you weren't someone who'd like that. Perhaps at a picnic, she does enjoy nature...

He tried shaking those thoughts away along with his feelings, but it didn’t work.

The conversation was very pleasant, and you two were reminiscing about his mission at your hometown where you both met years ago.

”Do you remember when I tried cooking breakfast? Oh, that was a good one,” you jested, chuckling.

Nanami nodded, resting the edge of his whiskey cup on his bottom lip.

“I’d say that was a terrible one. You nearly set your entire kitchen on fire trying to fry eggs,” he noted, letting a smile take over his lips.

You laughed in response.

”Yeah, you’re probably right. But at least you rescued me and made one of the best tamagoyaki I’ve ever eaten.”

He put his glass down on the counter, looking at you with those adoring, beautiful, brown honeyed eyes.

"One of?"

You chuckled, trying not to stare too much.

Good God, he's looking gorgeous tonight.

“Oh, come on. According to you, I can barely taste my food the way I eat, mixing everything up in my plate,” you joked, “I don’t have the same particular taste buds of yours.”

Nanami sighed, rolling his eyes at your teasing, taking a sip of his whiskey.

The ice had melted a little, and he felt the watery coat on the drink with displeasure, grimacing a little.

Somehow, Nanami failed to see the irony in that.

You noticed, and laughed a little before continuing.

"The other amazing tamagoyaki I had was when you rescued me from starving during my first week here. But I don't think I'd really regret burning Jujutsu High down, even if it was an accident."

Nanami shook his head lightly, the smile still on his face betraying his half-hearted chide.

Then, after the banter evaporated in the air, that moment finally came.

The absolute silence.

Arguably the perfect opportunity to say these types of things… So you began.

"Nanami, I…" words gagged. "I wanted to tell you something."

His body visibly tensed up a little, but he probably didn't realize it.

He knew, of course.

Nanami noticed all the recent instances you'd stare at him, and ever since pulling you in for a not-so innocent hug when you were both stranded on the road after a mission together, he felt dangerously close to crossing this boundary.

Nanami's words were easily controlled, always so neatly put together with mathematical precision to express his thoughts. However, ever since he crossed the line of physical contact beyond pure platonic affection, it had been difficult keeping his hands to himself.

Right now, he wanted to cup your face with his palms and brush his thumbs against your cheeks.

Perhaps even press his lips against you- stop that, you’re not a teenager anymore.

This comfort zone of avoiding the discussion about the feelings you both had for each other was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

"What?"

You gulped, and took a few more sips of beer.

"I…"

Your voice got stuck in your throat.

Your syllable had stretched long enough for this to have become a little awkward.

"I wanted to thank you," you blurted out, more for your benefit than his.

Nanami was equal parts relieved, disappointed, and surprised.

Did he actually want you to tell him you had feelings for him?

"Thanks for welcoming me to Jujutsu High, for shepherding me all this time, and for being a reliable, good friend. I was ready to face hell here, but it was… much better than I had anticipated. So, thank you, Nanami."

He looked at you, and both held each other's gaze for a moment. His hazel brown eyes were always something that lured you in, and you surely enjoyed how he'd always remove his green shades to talk to you.

Seeing them felt strangely — and endearingly — intimate.

"You're welcome," he offered in a kind note.

"Last call!" the bartender stated loudly, as you and Nanami looked at each other, feeling somewhat disappointed that the night was about to be over.

Stepping outside after paying, you both realized it was raining — something neither had noticed from inside the bar.

With half a mind to do something, definitely inebriated, and still with a declaration stuck in your throat, you absentmindedly made a question to Nanami.

"Can I wait the rain out at your place?"

He did live close by, in any case.

For a second, you realized you were probably butting in his rest hours, and felt a little embarrassed.

"Yes," he replied immediately, also absentmindedly, before you could retreat your request.

***

It was actually the first time you ever visited his apartment, and it was interesting to see his place. To no one's surprise, Nanami's pristine apartment, with his collections of books and CD's — he still had an actual stereo CD player — felt as every bit put together as Nanami himself did.

His kitchen drawers alone were surely more organized than your income tax return.

You sat on the counter and had your drenched hair haphazardly covered with a blue towel as Nanami fixed something to eat for the both of you.

The smell of cooked rice and eggs filled the air, hugging your senses, as you watched, still halfway drunk, how he skillfully walked back and forth, being somewhat inebriated himself, making way more than instant noodles, your first choice after proposing you both ate something to ease the alcohol out.

You stared at his back while he cooked, trying to push the thought of telling him how you felt to the back of your mind, at least for a while, just so you could enjoy the following moments without the sensation of impending doom.

As he finished plating the food, you were nothing short of impressed — the man mustered up the skill to cook omurice while inebriated, a feat you couldn't do sober even in one of your best days.

"This is incredible, you're such a badass," you remarked as Nanami gave you a plate with a pair of chopsticks.

"It's a simple recipe," he replied, getting his own and taking a bite out of it as he leaned against the sink counter, facing you.

"Oh, it surely is,” you remarked, ironically.

You were getting ready to eat as Nanami interrupted you.

"Don't desecrate it," he chided, referencing the way you'd usually stir up your food on your plate until it became an unidentifiable goo before eating, "try to taste your food at least this once."

You chuckled a little, acquiescing.

"Okay. This is too beautiful to get vandalized, anyway."

Nanami huffed, the faintest ghost of a smile on his lips, before he took another bite.

"I am so going to regret this entire thing tomorrow," you stated, taking the first piece out of your plate, “I drank like a sailor.”

It was absolutely delicious, of course. It was Nanami's food, after all.

He swallowed before proceeding.

"Me too, most likely. I hadn't drunk this heavily since… ever."

"Hah, me neither."

You both resumed eating peacefully, partaking in a comfortable and cozy silence for the next few minutes. During that time, he looked at you without you noticing, and realized just how much he wanted this small sliver of peace — sharing a good meal with you in his kitchen after a remarkably pleasant night — to keep going for eternity.

You were looking so adorable with his blue towel over your drenched hair.

As you were finished, he took both plates and put them inside the sink, going back to his original position. Nanami had already removed his tie, his weapon holster and opened the top of his blue buttoned shirt by this point, both of his sleeves rolled up for him to cook.

It was becoming increasingly hard not to stare.

"Thank you, Nanami," you said, smiling at him.

"It's no trouble," he answered, softly smiling back at you.

His smile was much sweeter than usual, and it sent your heart throbbing against your chest.

The urge came again, to finally tell him.

However, when you actually spoke, something entirely unexpected came out of your mouth.

"Why did you come back to Jujutsu High after years of working a regular job?"

Nanami was surprised, to say the least, and pondered for a while before resuming his answer.

He had left the jujutsu world shortly after the mission where he met you and ‘failed you’ — that last part solely according to him — so, needless to say, this was a sensitive topic.

"Well, I had known the jujutsu world, and after entering the corporate one, I realized both were idiotic. So-"

"No, not that speech," you interjected, "I want to know exactly what happened for you to come back. I mean, when we ran into each other years ago, you seemed pretty resolute in trying your retired-by-40 and moving to Malaysia plan, and from what I gathered, not long after that, you just came back, out of nowhere."

Nanami was silent, because he remembered vividly what had transpired, and that you had something to do with it.

"Well," he began, "a few days after we had that conversation, I went into a bakery to buy breakfast. It was always the same person at the cash register, and she had a small fly head curse on her shoulders for a while. It began affecting her sleep, given her complaints. I had avoided doing something about it, but our conversation kept ringing in my head."

Nanami averted his gaze, as if remembering the moment in its details before proceeding.

"After I exorcised it, her shoulder pain subsided, and she thanked me. That was it."

You remembered well how you chided him, telling Nanami to go back into sorcery because the world of jujutsu needed people who truly cared, such as himself. You just didn’t think it would have such a direct connection to the reasons he came back.

"So... you realized the importance of the job we do?" you inquired, with a half-smile pulled on your cheek.

He sighed. "Something like that."

"Oh, Mr. Nanami 'I'm just doing my job' Kento... you have finally understood that meaning is something relevant to you, it seems," you remarked, light-spirited.

He smiled, looking the other way, somewhat appreciating the fact that he had just been read like a book by you.

"But... don't say I had something to do with you coming back," you stated, "I might feel responsible if something happens to you."

Even as a joke, this snapped at your heart a little. The mere thought of losing him felt terrifying.

Nanami sighed, smile vanishing, looking back at you.

"You always see things from a perspective of assigning responsibility and guilt... It is a perspective that usually warrants unnecessary suffering."

You scoffed, still wearing your mid-smirk on your face.

"Oh, and looking at everything from a protective perspective is any different? I mean, both boil down to us thinking we're responsible for other people's fates."

He was slightly taken aback, before smiling discreetly and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I guess you're right."

Nanami looked at you, and seemed to be staring at your cheek. Under the dim light from the stove hood, you could make out the contours of his face — his sharp jaw, his chiseled cheekbones, and his now exposed forearms with taut, sculpted muscles, right under the rolled up sleeves of his blue shirt.

If pupil dilation could be felt, you would have definitely felt it at that moment.

The urge came up again, but by this point, you were already feeling defeated enough at your pathetic inability of confessing your feelings, so you just let your mouth roll with whatever came out of it.

"I really admire you, Nanami."

You surprised even yourself.

His eyes then met yours.

"Do you?"

Pondering on your words, you nodded, thinking a little about it.

"You're such a calm, collected and responsible person. You seem to always know exactly what you're doing, meanwhile I'm usually just guessing around. No wonder Ino and Yuuji look up to you."

Even under the soft lighting, you could swear you saw Nanami's face blush a little.

"Thank you," he stated, bowing his head slightly towards your direction.

You smiled at him and sighed right after.

"Most times, I don't think I'm someone people would call admirable or actually look up to."

This was something you hadn't anticipated you'd say. You had never told that to anyone.

But, well, this was him. This was Nanami.

"Why do you say that?" he inquired in earnest.

"Because... Because I'm often hanging by a thread, just trying to survive. I'm not doing great things. I'm barely existing, sometimes."

He mulled his thoughts over for a second before answering you.

"You have a good capacity for adapting, taking whatever life hands you and doing the best you can with it," he noted, "and you keep going even if you feel like you're guessing. Even when you don't know where you're going. That takes bravery, and I find it to be admirable."

Now you were the one surprised, and you could feel your entire face burning the moment he finished uttering those words. You were never one to take compliments easily, but this was a whole other level.

You stood there, mouth slightly agape, faltering without any words.

His eyes had returned to your cheek, and in a swift movement, you heard him say excuse me as he stepped into your direction, rubbing his thumb on it to take off some food you hadn't realized that was still stuck on your face.

Nanami barely registered that the thoughts looping around his mind the entire night about touching you had finally taken the best of him.

Before he could remove his hand, though, you held it in place, lifting your eyes to meet him.

His palm felt warm against your skin, his digits rough, and perfect. Just like he was.

Nanami's expression was unreadable as he gazed back at you, and you began hearing your heartbeats against your ears, muffling the sound of the tapping rain on the window.

Words failed him too, and he was guided by his body once again.

Nanami lowered his face and softly pressed his lips over yours, still tasting like whiskey and Demi-glace, which sent waves — that you couldn't quite discern if were hot or cold, perhaps both — all throughout your body.

It was a quick kiss, though, because shortly after, Nanami backed out, still with his eyes closed, and had something resembling a frown on his face.

"I apologize, that was inappropriate," he mumbled, beginning to pull his hand out from your cheek. You, however, held it in place, and that got him to open his eyes and look at you.

He seemed taken by trepidation under his usual collected demeanor, and his lower lip had the slightest twitch to it as his eyes flickered quickly between your mouth and your eyes.

For a moment, you felt like you were looking into the eyes of the Nanami you once knew — the bangs, the uniform, the seventeen-year-old version of him.

Little did you know that your corresponding younger version was looking right back at him with the same bated breath, just like the teens-becoming-adults in the most traumatic ways you two once were.

"Stop apologizing and kiss me," you pleaded, edging your face closer to his, pulling his towel off your head.

You could feel his breath exhaling against your skin, as Nanami approached his body to yours, putting himself in between your knees, and cupped your face in his hands. His body was incredibly warm, just like his hand, and his woody, musky scent sent your senses spiraling when he finally descended his lips to yours, determined on taking his time — after all, this was a kiss ten years in the making.

His mouth felt velvety and supple, and you both melted into each other while exploring the way his head tilted against yours, how your nails would eventually find their way up the nape of his neck, how your breath would hitch every time he pressed his mouth against yours more intently. Your lips slid wetly over each other with a newfound ease none of you expected.

You were both dipping your toes in the ocean and testing the temperature before committing to dive into deeper waters, taking all the time into familiarizing with the feeling of each other's bodies.

Nanami's hands descended to your waist, leaving a trail of heat on the way, and you let out a soft moan into his mouth when he pressed them against you. He groaned lowly, a sound reverberating from the depths of his chest, as he parted his lips from yours and put some distance in between your faces with his eyes closed.

You didn't understand, but before you could ask anything, he began speaking.

"I don't mean to assume," he stated, letting his forehead rest on yours.

"Hm... What do you mean?"

"I... What I mean is we can stop, in case you don’t... We're both still somewhat under the influence. You are," Nanami replied, opening his eyes to look into yours. The faltering restraint dwelling in them was palpable.

In the back of your mind, you wondered if there was any way of loving him more than you already did. Even now, he was so mindful and careful with you.

"I want this," you replied, resolute, "I want you. I've wanted it all for a very long time. It's not a drunken decision, I mean it."

His gaze softened in a way you had never seen before, one of his hands ascending to brush his thumb over your cheek. Nanami snuggled his nose against yours and sighed, seemingly fluttering.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure. I want you," you repeated, incisively.

He let out a huff of air against your mouth, and you could smell his breath, mingled with the scent emanating from him and his clothes. Intoxicating wasn't a strong enough word — you were completely enthralled, entranced and overwhelmed by him. Every sound got muted, but the sound of his breathing. Every smell disappeared, but his. And there was no other temperature in the room other than the warmth of his body.

You had entered tunnel vision mode, and at the end of it, he was your light.

Closing the remaining inches that separated the both of you, he brushed his lips against yours, whispering, "then have me. Have all of me."

Still cupping the side of your face, Nanami tilted it, finally fitting your lips against his again, like lovely little puzzle pieces getting more and more accustomed to each other by the second. He felt around your contours, pressing the tip of his tongue softly over the seam of your mouth, and you warmly welcomed him in, his true taste lingering just under the drinks and sauces being enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

He was salty, fresh, and a breeze of cool air by the seashore.

There were a few times you wondered what he'd be like, but your fantasies were quick to pale in comparison to the reality of him.

Nanami’s broken restraint was completely done for, and just this once, he wanted to let it come tumbling down like a house of cards, as he parted to gaze at your disheveled hair, your flustered face, your slightly puffy lips.

His chest swelled full and content at that sight.

He met you once again, and the ruffling from the fall was sounding better than he could have ever hoped for, insistent heart beat pushing against his ears, encompassing your breathless kissing like a sonnet.

Nanami's hands, however, didn't dare explore beyond your waist, and all this intense make out session was starting to make your panties feel uncomfortable against your pooling arousal. You were starting to feel antsy, and your body was nearly twitching at the aching desire. You needed some kind of relief, or you'd go insane.

Nanami was a gentleman, but holy hell, given the context, there weren't many ways he could misunderstand the phrase I want you.

You put your hands over his and slip them down to cup your ass, parting from his lips for a moment.

"Stop keeping your hands to yourself. Touch me," you pleaded, with some type of simmering desperation to your voice that you hadn't yet heard — never, actually.

He looked at you, and seemed equally desperate in an unfathomable way. He pulled you in, kneading his fingers fiercely against your skin while moaning into your mouth, and pressed your bodies hard enough for you to feel him pulsating through multiple layers of fabric.

Oh, my.

You knew he was strong, but this was something else.

Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his hips, and drew the tips of your fingernails down his back, while grinding over his growing erection with your clothed core. Nanami let out a muffled groan on your skin and began kissing your neck intently with messy, open-mouthed kisses.

He put his hands under your thighs and whispered in your ear, "hold on to me."

That caught your attention from your hazy brain.

"I... My hair is still wet. My clothes are a little damp, too. I'm kind of a mess right now," you told him, chuckling sheepishly.

This man's apartment was the most immaculate place you had ever been in your life, and the last thing you wanted to do was to dirty it around with dripping water from the rain. In his bed, of all places.

Nanami immediately pulled himself back and held your face, locking eyes with you.

"You are beautiful right now," he remarked, not giving you enough time for an answer, as he pressed another kiss on your lips — this time, more urgent, a little sloppy, but just as passionate, if not more. You gasped into his mouth, letting your body take control.

In an instant, your arms were draped over his shoulders, your legs tightened firmly around his body, and his strong hands held the back of your thighs, as Nanami lifted you from that counter like you weighed nothing.

You squeaked in surprise, and he uttered a soft, deep chuckle before planting a quick peck on your lips.

After walking you both into his room, he calmly descended towards the mattress, laying you down delicately and climbing his way on top of you.

When he approached his face to yours, you smiled at him, and he smiled back, sharing a tender moment of silent closeness.

This was probably your favorite shared quietude yet.

“I should get out of these wet clothes,” you stated, giggling softly, before tugging your shirt over your head.

He huffed a soft smiling hum in return, as his palms found their way towards the sides of your hips. Their warmth clashed a stark contrast against your still dampened, cold skin, and his touch was electric, making you involuntarily sigh.

"Help me take these pants off," you cooed, relaxing your legs around his body.

Nanami didn’t need to be told twice, and swiftly slid his hands down to unzip you and pull your damp pants off while you unclasped your bra.

After he was done, his eyes lingered over the drenched patch on your underwear, a realization that definitely riled him up, as his breath got caught midway out his nostrils for a second.

Nanami’s fingers swirled around your bra straps, but before he removed it, you began unbuttoning his shirt, finishing off unclenching his belt and unzipping his pants.

"It would be unfair for me to be the only one exposed here," you remarked, light spirited, while smiling tenderly at him.

He smiled back very much the same way, and pulled his shirt off, downing his pants, letting it all become a wrinkled puddle on the floor. Nanami caged you in between his arms, and pressed a quick kiss on your lips, asking, "do you ever stop?"

"Why don't you try to find out?" you slyly replied.

Nanami wasn't usually one to appreciate being teased. This was especially true when it came to Gojo annoying the hell out of him, and he could — and would — also get annoyed at your snarky teasing from time to time.

But it felt different with you. He wasn't nearly as irritated as he would've been with anybody else.

Perhaps because you teased him with love.

Your hands pulled your bra off and tossed it aside, and for some seconds, he was speechless, contouring his eyes all over your body. With butterflies on his chest, he finally cupped your face in his hands again before kissing you once more, and you couldn’t help but notice he really liked holding you like that when he kissed you — and you'd let him, every time he wanted to.

It was lovely to be held so preciously under such an adoring touch.

Letting go of your lips, Nanami began planting kisses under your jaw, descending towards your neck, and nesting his face in between your breasts, inhaling your scent with his face laid over your skin. With your encouraging hand tangling in his hair, he began kissing and licking his way around, kneading on your breasts with his palms. Your hips instantly bucked up against him, at the same time you let out a needy moan.

He noticed it, very pleased, and gave you the tiny mercy of removing your panties.

Still with his mouth plastered on your skin, Nanami descended one hand towards your folds, and groaned the second his fingers touched over your wetness, cock twitching inside his underwear.

You were drenched.

He sounded so satisfied, you couldn’t help but blush a little in between your moans and mewls, wanting to brat out just a little.

“Hah-- I did say- a-ah… that I wanted you,” you half jested, trying to fend off your fleeting embarrassment, “w-what did you… hah-- expect?”

He stopped briefly, and lifted his face to look at you, sighing with his classic I could be eye rolling at you right now expression.

You smiled mischievously, fully aware he noticed the teasing.

Nanami brushed his fingers above your clit softly, not breaking eye contact, and you thrust your hips up again, mewling mindlessly. Huffing, you tried saying something, but he pressed his fingers a little more intently, having your words turn into incoherent moaning tumbling down past your lips.

At that moment, you just knew…

You stood defeated.

“Finally, you relentless little devil,” he mumbled, kissing his way down your body, as you huffed a few chuckles in between your pleasured sounds.

If he was so hellbent on shutting down your antics like that, you’d probably try to keep them going all night long. Perhaps you could even break his composure completely.

The idea was enticing.

However, he was the one about to break you apart completely, as you realized when his wet, hot tongue got seared-flat against your clit, and stroked on your glistened folds with the ravenous dedication of a starving man.

Nanami was delighted to have finally shut down your quick-wit tease mouth completely, especially like this.

In the back of his mind, he realized he’d gladly do it every time you got on his nerves.

Being a pretty tactile person, with heightened senses overall, Nanami was sure that tasting you would feel amazing, but this was otherworldly.

Completely enthralled, he began dipping his tongue inside you to drink you in, having your walls clenching immediately around it.

The sounds you made — your moaning and begging, as your thighs rubbed against his cheeks and fingers tugged on his hair — would be etched in his brain for eternity, he was sure of it.

The moment his hands pressed harder on your thighs, pulling them against his shoulders, and you let out a mixture of a squeal and a moan, something inside him snapped, sending his mouth into a feral quest against your cunt.

Groaning and panting into you, he lapped relentlessly on your folds, nuzzling your clit so intently it nearly sent you crawling over the walls. Your vision was white, starry, black, and then white again, and you wondered for a minute if this was all pleasure or if the light of the room was actually flickering.

Mouth agape, your moans bounced off the walls, and your back arched desperately, while your entire body tightened with the tell-tale signs of an intense orgasm. Your toes were curling, your ears were ringing, and your face contorted in desperate need for release.

“D-don’t stop- don’t… Hah-- I-m… I-I… Hah---!“

Upon hearing your pleas, Nanami latched his lips on your clit and sucked on it so powerfully you didn’t get tipped over the edge, but was effectively thrown from it with no parachute or lifeline.

Your entire body tensed and jolted. You came with a desperate cry, tightening your grip on his hair with bruising force. He let out a loud moan, trying to hold himself together as you fell apart on his mouth, and started to lick you softly to wean you off your high.

For a few seconds, your entire body stopped answering any voluntary movement signals from your brain, and you could’ve sworn you forgot your name.

You were sent to heaven and returned unscathed.

Coming back to Earth, your grip on him loosened, and Nanami brought his mouth up to one of your thighs, pressing gentle kisses over it.

When your vision wasn’t all abstract colors anymore, you looked down to see Nanami with hooded eyes, resting his chin over your mound, gazing at you like you were the most beautiful creature in existence.

Given what had just transpired, you found it to be incredibly absurd that this — him gazing at you — was what had you blushing violently.

But here you were, hiding your face under the back of your hand, as you chuckled sheepishly solely from the way he looked at you.

This beautiful, adoring man.

The urge to tell him how much you loved him came back, but even like this, so unclad and vulnerable, it was incredibly hard.

Nanami was barely blinking, wondering how he had allowed — or better, forced — himself to live without this, without you, for so long.

“I’m starting to feel embarrassed,” you said, equal parts joking and genuine, as you finally managed to meet his glance again.

He blinked a few times, being pulled from his thoughts, whispering a half-hearted apology as he crawled his way back to you.

His hair was a mess, his lips were rosy and puffy, and his eyes…

His eyes.

Trying to keep yourself from becoming a fluttering chaos all over again, you shook your head lightly as you resumed speaking.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” you cooed, sliding your fingers down his face, pressing your lips to his. Nanami pushed his tongue inside your mouth, and you moaned in response, tasting your essence mixed in with his own flavor.

God, you could kiss him and taste this for hours on end.

His mouth and tongue flowed and veered softly, with no rush other than to imprint your flavor in him. Nanami clearly was a kisser — a very good one —, and was delighted to keep exploring you like that for as long as you’d let him.

Suddenly, you had a little wicked idea creeping up on you, as you made some effort to finally part your lips from his and uttered, “you know what, I’m sorry.”

Nanami was puzzled.

“What do you m-“

With your strength back, you locked your legs on the sides of Nanami’s waist and rolled his body over, landing on top of him.

His breath was caught for a moment before he smiled at you. Smiling back, you straddled yourself back, diving your fingers on the edges of his boxers to slide them down.

Nanami helped you by raising his body, and the moment you removed the piece of clothing, his cock sprang out, bearing a flushed, bulbous, red tip that mutely slapped against his belly. It was bigger than you anticipated, thicker too, and you wondered if you could fit it all in your mouth.

Probably not.

You also didn’t fail to notice the very evident damp patch on his underwear from his pre-cum alone.

He must be desperate right now, you thought to yourself, enticingly amused.

However, the moment you were about to wrap your fingers around him and descend, Nanami held your hand and sat up. He seemed slightly… Embarrassed?

“Hm… what is it?” you asked, pressing against his hand.

He cleared his throat.

“I’m… very wound up. Could we…” Nanami mumbled, words dying on their way out.

Truth was, ever since the moment you were grinding your clothed cunt against him, his mind was boiling to the thought of burying himself inside you to the hilt.

There was no sugar-coating it.

“Oh…” you let out, “so… you want me too?” you asked, a hint of amusement to your voice.

You weren’t the only one needy tonight.

He sighed from the depths of his soul.

“Stop teasing.”

His voice came out raspy, more of a plea than an actual chide.

The man was crumbling down, and it was delightful to watch The Nanami Kento, always so unflappable, falling apart like this.

You chuckled and planted a quick kiss on his lips.

“I’m sorry,” you offered in earnest.

He exhaled gently, gaze towards you softening as he did.

You blushed a little before proceeding.

“Where is the…”

“First drawer.”

Everything happened quickly. You snatched the condom from his nightstand and opened it. Nanami took it from your hands and slid it down his length. A soft sigh escaped his lips as the rubber snapped at the end.

Softly crawling your way towards him, you put both hands on his shoulders to straddle on his lap. Nanami locked his gaze on you, not breaking eye contact even for a second, right up until you both finally kissed again.

His hands began making their way down your back, and then…

You felt it.

The tip of Nanami’s fingers pressed against the scar you had right over your spine, and you gasped in pain as it hit the bundle of tangled nerves bumping over your skin. You instantly backed your face away with an aching grimace.

Nanami had witnessed how you got that scar in the fateful mission in which you two met years ago.

The sound of the blade piercing through your skin and flesh still lingered on in his nightmares.

His hand retreated so quickly you barely felt it leaving your body.

Following the aftershock, you opened your eyes to see him with his own eyes sealed shut, and Nanami appeared to be crawling his way back into his mind. His expression, usually so calm and collected, was replaced by a pained frown of his brows.

“I apologize, I… I’m…” he muttered, and you realized this wasn’t an apology for what just happened.

He still blamed himself for what had taken place then.

It broke your heart to shambles to see him like that, knowing full well nothing that transpired that night was his fault.

You cupped his jaw in your palms, and pressed your forehead to his.

"Hey, stop it. Stop apologizing, you haven't failed me. You never failed me."

Nanami's eyes were still very much sealed, and he seemed to be pulling even further away from you as the memories swirled around in his mind.

"Please, look at me," you pleaded, nuzzling against his face.

After a sigh, he answered, "I… I can't."

And he truly couldn't, still feeling the shame eating away at his chest like a parasite.

You scrambled your mind after something that might help, and finally realized the only thing you could say to pull him back.

Shit.

You were still terrified, and your entire body tensed up.

This is it. Now. I have to tell him now.

According to Nanami, you were brave.

And love, apparently, is something brave people do.

Still cupping his jaw, you sighed before letting the words come out of your mouth.

"Nanami Kento, I love you."

Your voice didn’t falter or stutter. Your declaration smoothly left your lips as naturally as breathing — the same way loving him came to you.

His breath caught halfway out, and he finally opened his eyes, soft and bare, gazing into yours.

"I love you, I have loved you for so long, I…" you repeated, sighing greatly, "I love you."

Nanami opened his mouth, but for a second, nothing — not even a huff of air — would pass. Knotting away in his throat, the words also struggled to form.

Should he? Could he? How deep in trouble would this launch the both of you?

Surpassing his worries, eventually, the words finally came out.

"I love you too."

The guilt and trauma had taken a backseat in his mind, at least for now.

When you heard Nanami’s words — heard him say that he loved you too —, your heart immediately began fluttering, and you could've sworn there was a ringing sound around the both of you.

There wasn't, though, just as much as the honeyed dewy warm rain that prickled over your entire skin was a manifestation of your love ridden excited imagination.

Smiling, you pulled him in for a kiss, and he intently pressed his lips against yours, no exploration left to be done — your tongues, by this point of the night, had met and familiarized themselves with every inch of each other's mouths, breaths, and moans.

Mindlessly, his hands plastered themselves back into your body, and brushed up from your hips, to your waist, over your back all the way to your shoulder blades.

Nanami brought you even closer, and kept kneading his hands against you, almost as if he was trying to touch your entirety all at once.

His fingertips ghosted softly around your scar accidentally again, and your breath hitched for a second. You pulled your mouth from his, just long enough to say, "lay me down."

Nanami understood it, and acquiesced. Swiftly, he supported you from your shoulders and hips, laying you down like a porcelain treasure, and caged you in with one hand to each side of your head.

You both took a few moments to admire each other.

Nanami was a tall and broad man, but from underneath, he seemed even more mountainous. His angular face, his wide shoulders and muscular arms, everything about him was just grand.

In a second, though, interrupting your gazing, his hand pulled a pillow from the top of the bed, and he gently lifted your head to put it underneath.

That was it.

In the end, you knew that his kindness, just as grand as he was, was what stole your heart.

Nanami slowly descended over you, and supported himself with his forearm to the side of your head, using his free hand to part the slightly sweaty hair on your forehead and press a fleeting, soft kiss in between your brows. Your heart skipped a beat, and his mouth came down pecking at your face in the most delicate fashion, until it rested on one of your cheeks.

You guided your hand down and positioned his tip towards your entrance, noticing Nanami shuddering with the sensation of your fingers clasping around him. His hand got down to the side of your hip, and Nanami let out a soft huff as he began to slowly push his length inside. He could feel himself gliding along your slick folds, and scrunched his eyes shut as the tip got past the resistance of your ring, eyelashes brushing over your skin with a feathery lingerance.

To say he was savoring this down to the last infinitesimal tactile sensation would be a gross understatement.

You dragged the tips of your fingers down the muscles of his abdomen, seeing how he deliciously flexed himself inside you, as you savored this in your own way too.

Sinking inch by inch, you could feel all the muscle stretches while his girth accommodated inside your walls, widening and filling you as he slipped in further. Your mouth opened in a muted moan, and with a hazy mind, you turned your face towards his, having the tip of his nose brushing over until your noses bumped against each other.

You captured his lips haphazardly, and Nanami stroked his tongue over your mouth, groaning the moment he bottomed out inside you.

You felt him almost kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock, and your mind was sent spiraling with the shivers that shot up from your lower abdomen to your entire body. It got you fluttering around his shaft, and Nanami's grip on your hip suddenly tightened, as a strained groan fell from his lips.

It took you a second to realize exactly what was going on.

"I-I… need… a second,” he mustered up to say in a cracked, coarse voice. His length was throbbing strongly inside you, and his expression looked almost pained. You noticed his fist beside your head was strongly clenched around the bedsheet.

Nanami wasn't lying when he said he was very wound up.

You planted a small, loving peck over his cheek and drew your hands to the back of his head, gently brushing your thumbs against his hair until you felt Nanami’s body relaxing, and his pulse inside you evening out to something calmer. He eventually let go of the bedsheet and drew his hand closer, tangling his fingers in your hair.

In an easy, gradual pace, Nanami began dragging his length out from you, and did so completely, pushing back inside the same way, robbing you of a gasp the moment he bottomed out again. His hips began in a steady, calm rhythm, and from your mouth, came out what he could only say were the best sounds he had ever heard.

“Fuck-- y-you feel… so good…” you purred for him, sending pleasured shivers all over his body. You were both completely covered in sweat right now, and your bodies slapped against each other, sounds only covered by your begging whimpers.

However, as good as it was, you needed more. Greedily, you felt the increasing need of being completely taken apart, and this slow love making was not doing it for you.

“Harder…” you pleaded, and Nanami picked up the pace as soon as he heard you, thrusts becoming more intense. It was better, no doubt about it, but you still wanted more.

Your hungry desire had become something indescribable, and all you could do was mumble softly in between mewls, pleading him to go even harder.

Nanami was also feeling himself grow more and more intent on satisfying your pleas, and realized this might not be the best position to do so.

He stopped for a second, and you muttered in complaint.

However, your disquiet was short-lived, as he propped himself up, manhandling your hips to accompany him and pulled one of your legs straight, letting your ankle rest on his shoulder, supporting your leg with his arm's length and hand cupping your ass. Your other leg kept hooked around him, and this shift sent his cock even deeper.

“Harder?” Nanami asked, almost as a dare, with his disheveled hair falling over his forehead, a few golden strands tangling with sweat. There was something remotely playful in his eyes, and it sent your heart pounding inside your chest to see him in a way you had never seen before.

Oh, how you coveted to freeze this moment in time.

In answer to his question, you nodded, half-lidded eyes and an anticipation smile, only to be surprised with a thumb making its way to your bottom lip, softly asking its way in.

You obliged, and put your lips around it, sucking on his thumb, basking in the view of this boulder of a man completely shuddering to the sight and sensation of that.

Nanami pulled his hand back, resting his digit over your clit.

“Hold on to something, darling” he warned, having a cheeky smile pulling on his face.

In sweet anticipation, you pressed your hands against the wall on which the bed rested, and locked eyes with Nanami, just to see him admiring you for a moment before he made a complete mess out of you.

In a sharp motion, he thrust his cock into you so intensely his tip bumped fully against your cervix, trembling the bed on its foundations. Your head launched on the pillow, your mouth falling open to let out the loudest moan — if that sound even be called a moan — you had ever uttered in your entire life.

Not sparing you a moment to recover, he retreated and plunged again and again inside your cunt, sending wet plap sounds bouncing over the walls. Nanami began rutting into you, kissing you deeper and deeper with every thrust, and you were nearly yelling from the pleasurable pain with which he had you finally crumbling down.

“Fuck,” he let out, “is this-- hah- hard enough--?” Nanami asked half in jest, knowing full well he didn’t need an answer. The way your back began arching so deliciously as you yelled and mumbled incoherently was enough of a response.

Every time he’d thrust, your body would tense up, and your walls would suck him in. It was sending his mind into a wild spiral.

Nanami was mesmerized by your face, and had the faintest feeling that he might cum from it alone. You looked and sounded like you were having the most delicious, toe-curling, gut-wrenching, blissful-stupor inducing sex of your life.

And well, up until at that moment, you actually were.

Dear God, he could die right now, and he’d die the happiest man alive.

You were having shock waves of stupor-filled pleasure shooting through your body, and Nanami began circling his thumb over your throbbing, sensitive clit. Oh boy, did he have you seeing the entire Milky Way in a split second behind your eyelids. Your mind distantly registered the noise of dragging wood and your fingers starting to struggle reaching support behind your head.

Is the bed pushing away from the wall? Are we literally rocking the bed? Holy shit.

A heat you rarely felt began to burn like incandescent molten lava in your belly, and you looked at him wide eyed, holding out onto some kind of desperation.

Nanami barely registered that you were looking at him like that when he felt the warm spurts, getting his entire crotch completely greased. You squirted so intensely that for a second you felt like you actually fell unconscious, before coming back to the second wave — the continuum of earth-shattering, convulsing orgasms that always followed it.

He wasn’t ready to have you squirt all over his cock so fervently, letting out the most heavenly, luscious, indecent and pornographic sounds he had ever heard.

He could never be prepared for that.

The sheer scent alone sent shivers throughout his entire body. Your scent was completely smeared over him, slowly dripping down his thighs.

With your walls tightening around his cock, his own peak took him by surprise, as much as he had tried to hold it away. The most animalistic and ferocious groan came out of his mouth as thick strands of white cum filled up the condom. Nanami's entire body jerked, making it incredibly difficult to keep pumping himself into you without risking pulling out too much by mistake, so he just let the convulsing waves finish washing down his body before collapsing on the bed by your side.

You both took a moment to breathe, then two, then three, still panting like you had just run a marathon.

Hell, you were probably panting even harder than that.

"I'm… I’m s-sorry about… the mess," you apologized, huffing and puffing, face blushing as you rolled your eyes back, still recovering from the aftershock.

Nanami instantly turned your face to his, mouth agape and gaze locked onto your lips, as he, without uttering a word, thrust his tongue inside your mouth in an open-mouthed, wet, sloppy kiss. All while still panting heavily.

Pulling back, you smiled, asking, “nothing to apologize for?”

He huffed, smiling back at you, “nothing.”

You both felt like you'd have the best night of sleep of your lives.

Nanami would not, however, as the thoughts he shoved away to the back of his mind earlier that night were about to take him into unwanted nightmares.

End notes:

I can’t reread this again. I just can’t. Hope I got all the typos out, lol. Old version of this fic is here. When I read it a few weeks ago, I came to the conclusion that I didn’t quite like it, so I decided to give it a go on rewriting it. Three rewrites later, here it is, hope you guys enjoyed it.

Tag list (for this fic + current AU tags):

@jadedjane @senseifupa @nikos-a-clown @fairy-corno @ldrcvlt

@magical-girl-b @montyrokz @hexrts-anatomy @g-kleran @otomesass

@redlikerozez @yammy-yammy-yama

508 notes · View notes

etfrin · 7 months

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❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter twenty | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 NSFW | canon typical violence, cunnilingus, Coriolanus Snow, cumming untouched | lmk if I forgot anything

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Coriolanus Snow gets punished and then he gets himself a reward

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 so here's another update guys! I hope y'all will like it! Thank you!

beta read by my darling 😽 @nowitsmissing

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Coriolanus didn't know what to expect from you. You were beyond his logic. He liked that about you, but he couldn't help but get paranoid because of it. So many truths were revealed yesterday. His love for you confessed shamelessly, horribly. He had expected it to be romantic, it was raw and monstrous.

Not a tale they could tell their future children.

But it was on brand for them, he knew. He couldn't expect anything less. Snow already felt himself going half insane with the punishment you said you'd give him. He couldn't bear guessing, knowing that you'd prove him wrong anyway.

Then he realized… you hadn't spoken a word to him since this morning. Not a word, not a single glance, nothing… Much like his reaction when he saw you yesterday. His face was blank, he kept quiet until he was alone with you.

Was the punishment silent treatment?

Huh… it's not the worst.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

He lied.

It was much, much, worse. Coriolanus Snow wasn't a jealous man. He simply thought that some people were worthy of more, and he is those people. And therefore, only he is worthy of the teasing smile you were giving to some of the Peacekeepers! They were worthless. You have his name carved on your skin, he was disgusted by the expression you were giving them.

Maybe, he was overreacting, but he saw no need to be this friendly with them. However, he knew a logical sense that being on their good side especially while staying in the district is important. That doesn't mean you have to smile at them, pay attention to them, and converse with them!

You were driving him insane.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

Sejanus was getting attention from you, but not him? This wasn't punishment any longer, it was torture. Sejanus asked you about why you didn't reply to his letters. It wasn't a lie when you said you didn't receive them. And Sejanus believed you easily enough, his attention more directed in showing his gratefulness when you pulled out some of his old books.

Your ma gave them to me, you had said.

Coriolanus believed it. He wondered if Tigris gave anything of his to you, he wondered if you were still connected to his family the way you were with Sejanus.

Coriolanus Snow wanted you to be a part of his family, he wanted you to be closer to his grandma’am than Sejanus Ma.

He revisited the letters from Tigris, and there wasn't a single mention of you. But he had found out they had lost the damn penthouse, however they had enough for food and other necessities through Tigris. It was thanks to the small business she had managed to stand up after she had designed clothes for you.

He didn't try to suppress the guilt he felt as he found out about this right now when it was addressed weeks ago. Coriolanus slowly but surely replied to each letter of Tigris individually. It took all night, but Tigris was family. She didn't abandon him and Coriolanus will be damned before he does the same.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

Coriolanus' jaw was bruised from the punch he had taken. It wasn't his fault, really, getting into a fight with his fellow Peacekeepers. He was frustrated, he wondered just how long you'd keep this stupid, childish behavior up.

He punched back, and he was sure that he had broken the jaw of his opponent. He built up much-needed strength after being here for months after all. It was a silly fight. The boys were talking about you. It was typical of men, but with how quickly the words turned crude he didn't tolerate another word.

He was quick to punch the man that started it and surprisingly Sejanus didn't play the mediator for once. The Plinth boy joined in, helping Sejanus beat up the man. They both got a punishment from Commander Hoff.

It was worth it.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

Coriolanus couldn't take it anymore. It had been days. Specifically, 96 hours to be exact. Not that he was counting or anything. He marched you to your room, he even knocked.

He received no answer. He lets out a sigh, knocking till his knuckles hurt. “Come on,” he said, knowing you will be able to hear his voice. “Open the door,” he commanded.

You didn't open the door.

“Open the door,” he said, his tone softer.

Nothing. He couldn't hear anything from your side either.

Then he lets out a shaky breath, his palm pressed on the wood. “Please, please, please,” he begs, his voice low, “please, please…”

Nothing.

Finally, he tried the doorknob, ignoring the sting of tears in his eyes. He was breaking down, and the room was empty. You weren't even here.

He may or may not have cried.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

After Coriolanus had showered, he learned that you and Sejanus were at The Hob. The Peacekeepers were given the day off, and while he spent it crying inside of your room, you were having fun. That's fucking enough.

Snow couldn't take it anymore.

When he went there, he could see Lucy Gray and several others performing a song. Another day, he would enjoy it, but it was different because he couldn't find you in the crowd and he grew agitated.

His eyes were red, his jaw bruised purple-blue. It hurt, even after the cold shower. But it didn't matter. He will have you look at him tonight. He will have you speak to him. The world be damned. Coriolanus is much more fucking significant.

Wasn't he?

Coryo pushes through the crowd to find himself at the corner of the warehouse The Hob was in. He stopped as he saw you leaning on the wall. You weren't alone. But you weren't with Sejanus or any other Peacekeepers.

You were with Billy Taupe, Lucy Gray's infamous ex and the boyfriend of the mayor's daughter.

You were smiling at him, both of you were so incredibly close to each other that Coriolanus wanted to tear distance between the both of you. Coriolanus could hear the thump of his heartbeat, every other sound quiet in his mind as he walked towards the both of you.

He catches you and he sees your lips form a smirk, as you pull Billy Taupe closer. And closer. Oh, fuck no. He reaches at the right time, pulling him off you and pinning him to a wall.

“That's my girl, motherfucker,” he growls.

He throws the boy on the floor, gathering the attention of several around him. Snow didn't care, he was seeing red. He was beyond pissed. He was seething. He vaguely noticed that the music had stopped as he straddled Billy Taupe, pinning him to the ground with his hand on the shoulder. He used his free hand to repeat punches, again and again until his knuckles were more red than anything.

Coriolanus could hear the screaming of Billy. He heard the cries of Maudy Ivory; he heard the plea in Sejanus' voice as he begged him to stop. Sejanus and a few others tried but couldn't get him off, he was feral. He was going to kill Billy Taupe. He was going to enjoy it.

“Coryo, stop.”

He stills. Of course, he does.

Anything for his love.

“Get off.”

He obeys, his chest rising up and down as he turns towards you. He offered you his hand, not caring that blood was dripping off of it. You take it, intertwining his fingers with yours. Smearing the blood on your skin, taking half the blame for it in the metaphorical sense. Coriolanus was glad he wasn't alone anymore.

He couldn't survive being alone.

You take the lead as both of you walk away from the scene. None of the spectators dare to stop you. Coriolanus and you walk, it's dark and no one can see as tears fall from his eyes again. The saltiness in the air could easily be mistaken that it is due to the blood.

If you hear him sniff, you don't say anything. He is grateful for that. Soon, both of you reach the room you were staying in. You walk in, still holding Snow's hand. Coriolanus follows you without a question.

He lets go of your hand. He gets on both of his knees, he gasps, more tears falling from his eyes. He looks up at you and sees you looking down at him. The only light was from the moon coming through the window in the corner. You were being showered in it.

“Never again,” he whispered, his voice raspy.

More tears fall. He can't help it. He's so overwhelmed by the anger of what you did and the attention you were finally giving him.

“Never again what?” You demanded.

He tries to swallow his pride away. Besides you, it was the only thing he had left. He can't do it. He can't so he looks away. What was he supposed to say? ‘I'll never misbehave?’ He wasn't a dog in training. He's not supposed to bark when you ask him. Yet he was. It was humiliating being stripped like this. And you didn't even ask for it, he volunteered because there was no other choice.

“Tell me what you won't do again. You'll never punch Billy? You'll never choke me? You'll never kiss another girl?”

No, no, and yes.

“I wo- won't ever kiss anyone except you.”

“Good…” You clearly expected a sorry but Coriolanus couldn't give it to you. ‘Just forgive me,’ he wanted to yell. Instead, he gets up and walks towards your table. He opened the drawer to take out a knife. The same knife he had used to carve his initials on your skin.

“Not today,” you said before he could press the sharp edge on his skin.

“Why?” He said shocked, more tears burned his eyes. Wasn't he forgiven? Wasn't this enough?

“Just…” you walked towards him, pressing him onto the wood and taking the knife from his hand. You place it on the table before your hand gently holds his jaw. You tilt his head to look at the bruise on his face. “You're hurt enough for today.”

“Then give me something else,” he said.

“What?”

“Your taste.”

It took you a moment to understand what he meant. When you did, your eyes went wide and your breaths fastened. He certainly enjoyed the reaction that meant a yes. He still waited for a verbal answer before he took any action.

“Okay,” you whispered.

He quickly switches places with you before he guides you to the bed and makes you sit down on it. You follow his lead. Coriolanus gets on his knees again. This time to make you scream his name.

He takes off your black stockings with great care. Make sure not to cause an accidental tear on the delicate fabric. He even takes off your heels. You raise your hips so your skirt and panties can slide down past your legs and onto the floor.

He breathes in much-needed air to calm his heartbreak as he takes in the view in front of him. He dreamed of this for so many nights that it didn't feel real. He parts your legs with his hands, creating space between your thighs. He leans in, caging himself. If he dies from suffocation, then he dies happy.

He felt your hand on his buzzcut, your nails gently scratching his scalp. He lets out a whine, his nose pressed to your thigh. He breathes in the scent of your arousal and lets out a groan. Coriolanus could feel his pants getting tight.

Snow closes the gap between your wet pussy and his tongue with a slow, languid lick. You moan above him, already sensitive. He sees your cunt clenching around nothing. He sharpened his tongue and pressed the tip to your leaking slit. Up, and down he moves the wet muscle, his tongue sliding inside of you and you encourage this action with your thighs tightening around his head.

He digs into his meal, letting his tongue wander all over your sloppy, wet cunt with wonder. He moans as your juices coat his tongue. He loves the taste of you. He knew he would find himself addicted to this. He finds something like a bud as his tongue wanders. When he flicks it, you cry out of pleasure. So he lets his tongue work, his hands on your thighs, his nails digging into your flesh.

He flicks the pearl with the tip of his tongue again and again, until he knows it's swollen. Then he takes the bud in his mouth and sucks, it was too rough. He knew because you cried out, your hips pushing up and he had to press you down.

“Coryo!” You cry out and he lets your clit pop out of his mouth. He kisses the swollen, abused, and oversensitive bud before he returns attention to your folds. He broadly licks making sure to have all of your arousal on his tongue only, he didn't want to miss a single drop.

He snakes in a hand between your legs, his thumb finding your clit. He used his other hand to make sure your leg was spread wide and nice for him to feast. He pressed into the bud with the pad of his finger. The pressure gives you pure bliss in your veins. He feels your pussy clench again, oozing out more arousal. He licks it all up, his tongue fucking into your walls. His thumb begins to draw rough circles on your swollen clit. You whimper and whine.

The sounds are music to his ears. Quickly enough you begin to warn him, “Gonna cum, Coryo!” He only fastens his actions, getting rougher, sloppier and so much more needy to have you cum on his damn face. ‘Cum, cum, cum,’ he chants in his head, utterly and pathetically desperate for you.

You scream out his name, the coil in your tummy snapping as your pussy spasms and cum all over his face. His tongue slows down, leisurely tasting your release. You have to push him away when he doesn't stop and you could feel yourself getting tired. Your bones turn to jelly.

Coriolanus leans back, wiping his mouth. He looks down at his pants and frowns as he sees a wet spot on his pants. That explains the relief he felt. He had come inside of his pants. He doesn't let the embarrassment take him over. It was too dark to see anything after all.

He stands up and sees you all crossed-eyed. He grins, and he gently pats your cheek trying to get you to your senses. “Bye, dove,” he whispered with a smirk.

As he walks down the hallway he wonders who truly won this round.

After all, he was the one who got what he wanted and you gave it to him just like that.

NEXT PART

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justagalwhowrites · 4 months

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Yearling - Ch. 37: Pieces

Mitchum sends you to where he wants you as Joel questions Cody. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-36 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and several steps beyond that. Fairly graphic torture (not of reader.) Mention of past sexual assault, not described. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 6k

A/N: As with the last chapter, I want to state, real quick, that Bambi is NOT going to be sexually assaulted again. This is a highly triggering subject and, given the situation she's in, I understand if folks are bracing for it. That's not going to happen. The threat of it is there but it's not going to happen.

We are into the final arc of Yearling and we are going to see some TLOU 2 OVERLAP again. There isn't any this chapter but there will be in this arc and here's how: a character from that game will be mentioned as will the spoiler-y incident from a few chapters ago. What happens plot wise in this arc is completely separate from the game and entirely original content BUT there is that character overlap and more specific mentions of the incident and the motives behind it. This character returns THIS CHAPTER. If you're trying to go in blind to season 2, it might be wise to step back. Feel free to send me a DM, I'm happy to answer any and all questions!

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

They were talking about you like you weren’t there.

You’d been used to that once but it had been a long time since you’d been just a thing, separate from that life about as long as you’d suffered it. You had forgotten just how much you hated this part of being a prisoner. You’d internalized so many of the more acute horrors that the smaller things had slipped away, but the change from human being to livestock was sharp. You didn’t have much in you to fight against anything - still barely able to stand - but it seemed what little there was faded quickly just listening to the men talk about you as though you were some unruly animal.

“Take her back to the main camp,” Mitchum said, taking your arm and turning you around so he could look you over. “She’s good on a horse, don’t let her near the reins. Don’t be stupid enough to think this one won’t take off just because she’s down some fingers, she’s a feral thing. That fucking moron… Get her there and don’t fuck her, understand? She’s mine and I gotta make sure she’s broken in right. Been wild too long, gonna have to start from scratch.”

He took your chin in his hand, forcing your eyes to meet his own.

“Gonna bring you back where you belong,” he said. “I tamed you once, I can do it again.”

You didn’t say anything, all your energy going in to keeping yourself standing. You tried to think about something, anything, beyond how close Mitchum was to you again, every alarm bell your body had ringing. Where his fingers were on you burned and your heart raced, the blood loss and fear making your head spin.

The only thing that could be worse than being this close to him again was Savvy and Ellie being this close to him. The thought that you’d saved them from this was a small comfort. You hoped they made it back. You had to believe they made it. You weren’t sure you’d have the strength to keep going otherwise. They made it, they made it back to Jackson, they were safe there.

But the men were talking about Jackson, too. Like it was something they could take. What’s worse, they sounded confident that they could do it. It was something that had seemed impossible when you were within the walls, everything so strong and permanent. How could the will of men destroy something like that? But now that you were here, back in the grip of what terrified you, it didn’t seem so impossible anymore. Jackson was just people, too. Good people, strong people who had decided to survive and work and love alongside each other but people all the same. It doesn’t take some act of God to destroy a person, just one other, determined person can do the job.

You couldn’t handle considering that, not when the only things in the world that mattered were dependent on Jackson to be safe. You had to believe that Jackson could withstand whatever came its way, that Ellie and Savvy had made it back, that they would be safe within its walls and would never have to face men like Mitchum and Cody again. They made it, they made it back to Jackson and they were safe. The whole city was.

You thought it over and over again in your head, a mantra of sorts, as they brought you to a horse and forced you on its back. You were too out of it to grab the reins immediately, a man mounting up in front of you before you could think twice about taking control of the animal.

“Better not try anything back there if you know what’s good for you,” the man snapped before making the horse move. You just tried to stay upright and tried to think of ways to escape once you were strong enough to run. You had to resist the urge to try now, every nerve in your body on fire and driving you to run or fight. But you couldn’t. You’d never survive a fight right now and you’d only be able to walk a mile - maybe two - before you’d collapse and then they’d have you again. You needed to save your strength or you’d never get out.

You tried to remind yourself that you’d done all this before. You’d survived what they did to you and made it out. You’d lived and built a life and found your daughter and protected what mattered. You’d done it once, you could do it again. You just had to survive.

You focused on the people that you wanted to survive for - Savvy and Ellie and Joel and Maria and Tommy and William and Julie and and and - and tried to settle into the sway of the horse as it walked.

Time was strange like this, pulling and warping. It seemed like it was dark longer than it should have been when the sun started to rise and then, when the men stopped for a break, the sun seemed higher than it should have been. You drank water when it was offered. You watched for a chance to steal a horse - the only way you thought you’d be able to make it far in that moment - but didn’t get one.

The light hadn’t yet taken on the soft, hazy quality of evening when you reached where you were headed. It was an unfamiliar place, a small subdivision - maybe two dozen houses total - with mountains at its back. There was a guarded perimeter, men in cowboy hats who gave the men you were with a nod as they rode in.

They brought you to the center of the neighborhood, to a house that was small but looked to be in good repair, two men stationed outside.

“Down,” the man you were riding with ordered. You obeyed, sliding off the horse and stumbling, head spinning. He dismounted more smoothly before grabbing you by the collar of your shirt - Joel’s shirt - and hauled you for the door, one of the guards meeting him there. He took a padlock off the front door before opening it and shoving you inside, past a small living room with a sunken sofa and a kitchen with counters covered in a thick layer of dust. He forced you down a hall to a bedroom. You were almost positive it had been a little girl’s room once but it had been stripped of all forms of childish comfort. There were two twin sized mattresses on the floor, tucked into corners on opposite pink walls. There had been carpet once, you were sure, but it had been pulled up, just the plywood below remaining. There was a bucket at the foot of each bed and some drywall had been pulled away near each bed, exposing the frame of the walls, chains wrapped around a stud near either bed.

“On the bed,” the man ordered, shoving you toward it and making you stumble. You more fell onto the mattress than sat on it but it didn’t seem to make a difference. He approached you and you went to kick him, not about to let him just take what he wanted without a fight, but he caught your boot, giving you a sharp shake when he did. “Just making sure you don’t run. Sit still or this will hurt a lot more than it needs to.”

He pulled your boot off before you had a chance to respond and tossed it near the door before picking up the chain. It was thick and heavy, no cuff on the end. He wrapped it around your ankle, tight enough that it cut into your flesh a little, and put a padlock through the loops to hold it in place. He gave it a testing pull and it didn’t budge. He nodded.

“Recommend you rest while you can,” he said, dropping your leg. “Mitchum’s back in a day or two, don’t imagine you’ll have much while he’s here.”

He turned to leave and you looked to the other mattress. There was a smear of blood near the chain that was still bright red, like it hadn’t dried yet. There was someone else who had been here, someone recently. The door closed and locked and you stretched out on the bed, trying to force your body and mind to still enough that you could rest.

It didn’t work very well. You faded in and out of consciousness for a while - you weren’t entirely sure how long but you were fairly certain night had fallen. The window in the room was covered with yellowed newspaper but you were pretty sure you’d seen light coming through it earlier in the day. It was dark now.

It took you a moment to realize what had pulled you back to consciousness. There was a scuffle outside your door, the sound of someone being wrestled inside. You shot up, scrambling to find something you might be able to use as a weapon but came up empty, the room stripped of anything that could be a tool and your mind still working slowly. You were still down a lot of blood.

The door opened and you braced yourself to claw and bite but the man there paid you no mind. Instead, he shoved a tall, broad young woman in, one with a blonde fishtail braid that hung down her back. Something inside you twinged at the sight of her, a distant alarm bell ringing. She was familiar, you couldn’t see her face but you knew her. You could feel it.

The man forced her onto the opposite mattress and all but threw the chain around her ankle before locking it into place.

“If you’re fuckin’ smart, you’ll behave yourself,” the man backed away from her, panting for breath with a cut on his cheek. “If you weren’t one of Mitchum’s favorite toys, I’d kill you myself.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, lifting her head from the mattress, her teeth bared in a snarl. Your breath caught, the fingers from your intact hand groping for the chain attached to your ankle, your best hope for a weapon.

You did know this woman - almost more of a girl in spite of her size and strength, she couldn’t be much older than Ellie and definitely young enough to be your daughter. You didn’t know her name or where she was from or why she had tried to murder your husband but you knew her, knew how she looked when she was filled with rage and desperate to kill a man. Knew how she looked as she beat Joel until he was bloody and half dead. Your grip on the chain tightened.

The man left and you weren’t sure if the two of them had said anything else, the high pitched whine that had taken over your ears only just beginning to fade.

She seemed to notice you then, straining to sit up, her eyes wide at first but narrowing when she reached your face.

She recognized you, too.

“You,” she was still panting for breath, leaning against the wall at her back, sneering at you. Watching you. “I should have known they’d find some other fucking way to torture me.”

You watched her back, ready to defend yourself in case she made a move.

“I could have said the same thing about you.”

***

Joel wasn’t aware of much.

There were gunshots but they were of little consequence. The screams didn’t register, either. Neither did the sweat on his neck or the pain in his back or the pull in his leg that had been there ever since he was shot by the girl who wanted him dead.

He could feel your blood on his hands, though, and the feel of your fingers in his pocket and hear the thud of his heart and he could see. He could see Cody on his horse but he could see how you’d been afraid of him, too. That day in the stable when Joel held you and you were so scared you could barely stay standing. He could see how it would have happened, how this man would have cut away pieces of you. How scared you would have been, how you would have fought anyway, how you would have screamed.

All Joel really knew in that moment was that he needed to hurt this man. He needed to take every ounce of pain from his body until there was nothing else left inside of him and he needed him to know, as he died, that he was dying for you.

Cody tried to dodge Joel as he threw himself at him, the horse stutter stepping away as Cody tried to pull it back while also grabbing his gun. But he wasn’t fast enough, Joel’s hands closing around the edges of the man’s jacket as he yanked him to the ground, Cody’s gun flying into the trees.

But Cody was not a small man and his thrashing weight threw Joel off balance, the two of them sprawling to the forest floor. Cody was younger and more agile and got to his feet first, pulling his knife free from his belt, lunging for Joel. But Joel was ready for him, kicking him in the gut so hard that it knocked the wind out of him and sent him stumbling back. He got to his feet, too, Cody leaning against a tree, knife out as he caught his breath.

“You’re not gonna get her back,” he panted, a sneer on his face as he watched Joel. “She’s with him now and he’s not gonna let her go so easy this time. And when he’s done with her, don’t think you’ll even want her back.”

There was commotion at Joel’s back but it barely registered.

“I should have fucking killed you when I had the chance,” Joel said, watching him closely. “She was too good to you. She’s always been better than anyone left fuckin’ deserved, least of all you.”

“And she should’ve known what I gave her when I let her go,” he said, standing up a little straighter now, breath caught. “Instead of being an ungrateful cunt.”

Joel roared and threw himself at Cody, the other man striking out at him with his knife. He nicked Joel’s shoulder with the blade but he barely noticed it, the blow not really hurting so much as being filed away as information, things he would need to contend with at some point when Cody’s blood was cold on the ground.

Joel threw a punch, catching Cody on the jaw and he stumbled for a moment before lunging at Joel, striking out with the knife again but falling short and following up with a clumsy fist after. Joel caught his hand and twisted it, the other man giving a sharp yelp. Joel liked the sound, the evidence of his pain soothing the gnawing desperation inside him.

But his satisfaction was short lived, the knife slamming into Joel’s shoulder making him seize up for a moment. He was aware that it should hurt, that there was metal inside him now that didn’t belong, but all it did was bring everything into sharper focus. This knife was probably the one that had drawn your blood, too. It seemed right that he should suffer it with you after he’d failed at doing what he’d vowed to do.

The split second of the shock of the stab passed quickly and Joel drove Cody back into the tree, slamming his back into the trunk of it and knocking the air out of him, his head hitting the bark with a sickening thud. Joel didn’t relent. Instead, he punched him across the face, one arm holding the man in place as he hit him again and again.

This satisfaction held longer. Cody’s fingers scramble and clawed at Joel, trying to find purchase somewhere they could pull him away from his singular mission but that was impossible. Joel’s physical body didn’t matter to him anymore, not without you, and every small hurt was swallowed by the drive to destroy.

“Joel!” Tommy’s arm looped around Joel’s neck, pulling him back from Cody who slipped down the tree trunk, his hands limp on the blood coated leaves, his chest still rising and falling, eyes blinking as he stared into space. Joel strained to pull away from Tommy’s grip but his brother held him firm as he panted for breath. “Joel, you can’t kill him yet, we need information. We kept one of the others alive but we need information or we’ll never find her. He’s alive, we need him to stay a live a little longer.”

Joel slumped forward in Tommy’s grip and his hold on him loosened, starting to feel his body again. His knuckles hurt and were slick with blood. Joel wasn’t sure how much was Cody’s and how much was his own. There was a sharp, stabbing pain in his shoulder and he reached back with his other arm, flinching as he did, before taking hold of the knife and pulling the blade free. He heard Tommy wince as he did and Joel brought the weapon around in front of him, holding it up for a moment. His blood was slick over half the blade, the edge serrated.

“You cut off my wife’s fingers with this?” Joel panted, squatting down to be on Cody’s level, holding the knife up. His own voice sounded odd to him, so normal when everything was so wrong.

“Wait, what?” Ellie stalked over to him and Joel glanced up at her. There was a cut on her cheek and her eyes were wide. Joel turned back to Cody and reached into his pocket, gently pulling your fingers free before setting them on Cody’s stomach. “Motherfucker!”

Joel barely registered the sound of Tommy wrestling Ellie away, too focused on the man in front of him to worry about anything else.

“Did you cut off my wife’s fingers with this?” Joel said again, voice flat.

Cody struggled to swallow and Joel took hold of his jaw, yanking his head around so he was looking right at him.

“Answer the question.”

Cody blinked a few times before taking a shaky breath.

“Yes.”

There was a rattle in his voice and blood on his teeth.

“Good.”

Joel took the knife and thrust it into his thigh, just over his knee. Cody screamed and squirmed uselessly under him and Joel waited, keeping constant pressure down on the blade, giving him no relief.

As he quieted - gasping for breath, eyes wide and bloodshot - Joel pulled the knife from his leg and wiped the blood on his jeans.

“Gonna hurt you like you hurt her,” he said, picking up Cody’s hand from the ground. He started trying to pull it away, heavy breaths shifting to hyperventilation, but Joel held firm, forcing the hand down to the man’s thigh. “What, you afraid of me usin’ your knife the way you do? That it? Can’t be that bad, can it?”

“No,” he panted. “No, please, I’ll give you whatever you want, I’ll…”

Joel lined the blade up with the smallest knuckle on Cody’s pinky and cut through it in one devastating push, the man screaming and writhing and trying to pull his hand into his chest to comfort himself but Joel didn’t let him.

“You’ll give me what I want?” Joel asked, putting the knife at the next joint down. “But what if what I want is my wife? What if what I want is your pain, hm? You give me that?”

He cut again, the blade meeting more resistance this time. Joel pushed through it, the knife cutting through the denim of his jeans on the other side of his hand as he screamed again. Cody closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the tree and Joel resisted the urge to beat his face in. He had to leave him alive for a little while longer.

And besides, he couldn’t take more pain from him if he was dead.

“No, you don’t get to fuckin’ pass out on me,” Joel stabbed the knife through his hand, pinning it to his thigh before grabbing his hair by the fistful, bringing his head forward so it was only inches from Joel’s own. He could smell the blood on his skin, clearly see the trails of salt on his cheeks. “You get to be awake for this. Doubt you ever let her pass out, did you? Not about to do you any favors. Now, you focus on me, understand?”

Cody managed a nod. Joel dragged the blade through is palm, between the webbing of his fingers, cutting a path through the delicate bones of his hand and the thick muscle of his thigh as Cody begged and screamed. The wound at Joel’s shoulder ached. He couldn’t bring himself to care about either thing.

He held Cody’s hand in place again and gave him a second to quiet and catch his breath before lining the knife up at the base of his pinky.

“Please,” he panted, eyes so desperate as they met Joel’s. “Please, I can’t…”

“Can’t what?” Joel asked, brows raised. “Can’t survive what you did to her?”

Joel cut, separating the bloody remains of the finger from Cody’s hand and casting it aside. Cody’s screams were growing hoarse and Joel ground his teeth. He still needed answers from him and he needed to be able to talk for that.

He pulled the knife away, holding it firmly and watching as the other man caught his breath.

“I can make this easier,” Joel said after a moment. “You tell me where she is? I kill you. Quick. Maybe not painless but not as bad as this. You’re not leavin’ here alive. Should have killed you in Jackson months ago. Hell, should have fucking found you years ago and killed you then but I didn’t. Not about to let you go again. But it’s up to you if how I kill you is for you or for me, if it’s fast or if it’s slow.”

“I…” the wet rattle of Cody’s breath was sharper now. “I can’t… I can’t trust you to do it quick…”

“Yes you can,” Joel said. “You tell me where my wife is? I’m gonna go get her. Not gonna want to waste more time here with you. It’ll be quick if you just tell me.”

Cody’s eyes searched Joel’s for a moment, like he would find some kind of answer in them. Joel didn’t need to see his reflection to know that the only thing Cody would find in his gaze was the hollow, desperate pain of your loss. There wasn’t anything else left in him to see.

“I traded her,” he said. “To Mitchum. Met… met him about 10 miles north east of here but he won’t still be there. I don’t think he’d keep her with him - he never did before, always… always had her at his base…”

“And where’s that,” Joel asked when he trailed off. Cody’s neck went limp and Joel grabbed his chin again, giving him a sharp shake and forcing his eyes to spring open. “Stay with me, focus right here. Where is Mitchum’s base? Where would he take her?”

“Little spot,” he panted. “Just… a bunch of houses, don’t know if it’s got a name…”

“Tommy!” Joel called without even glancing back at him. “Need a map.”

It took a few seconds before Tommy appeared, handing Joel a wrinkled and worn map.

“Point to where it is on this map,” Joel said, releasing his bloody, four fingered hand. “Your buddy over there know where it is?” Cody nodded, shaky, once. “Good. You point where it is. He’d better point to the same goddamn spot.”

He handed the map back to Tommy and kept Cody in his sights, watching as his skin grew pale and his head listless and limp. There was a scuffle and scream behind him, loud enough that Cody shocked back to full consciousness with it.

“Sounds like your friend don’t know what’s good for him,” Joel said, taking Cody’s bloodied hand and forcing it to his thigh again. “Or what’s good for you.”

“No,” he shook his head, his eyes so wide. “No, please!”

“Tell him to cooperate,” Joel said.

“Do what he says!” Cody screamed. “Just do it, please!”

Joel pressed the knife to the base of his ring finger and cut. He was almost surprised at how easy it was to force the blade through the bone and sinew. He could barely feel the strain of it as Cody screamed below him. The knife sank a bit into his leg as it cut through the last of the skin and Joel picked the finger up, holding it in front of Cody’s crying eyes.

“She scream like you?” Joel asked, turning the piece of his captive slowly before them both, the wet of his blood catching the light like the fractures in the glass of his watch. “You like hearin’ it like I like hearin’ you?”

“Please,” Cody managed, voice ragged and hoarse.

“Why’d you do it?” He asked, lowering the severed finger but keeping it firmly in his grip. “You already took her, already were handing her over to that… animal. Why’d you need to hurt her, too.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Joel thrust the knife into his upper thigh, inches shy of the man’s crotch and he gasped, mouth open in a silent scream. He was wearing out, inching closer and closer to death.

“Don’t give a shit about your sorry,” Joel said. “Why. Tell me.”

He gave Cody a second to start to recover from the pain before twisting the knife, making him seize again.

“Tell me.”

“She tried to run!” He sobbed, collapsing back down again. “She… she tried to run, killed two of my men. And she never… never appreciated what I did for her then…”

Joel just nodded slowly. You’d been able to try to run, at least before Cody took your fingers. You weren’t so scared that you couldn’t move, weren’t so beaten that you couldn’t run. That was a good sign. You were a survivor. He had to remember that. You’d survived before. You would now, too. You would still be alive for him to find, for him to save, and he would save you. If it was the last thing he did, he would save you.

“Joel,” Tommy was at his side and it was quiet at his back. “Same spot.”

“Good,” Joel said. He carefully picked your fingers up from where they’d fallen in the leaves at Cody’s side and tucked them away in his pocket again before getting to his feet. Ellie was at his side, her rifle in her hands.

“I want to hurt him,” she said, her voice flat.

Joel looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since they’d found Cody. There was a darkness in her eyes that terrified him in its familiarity. It was the look she’d had for a split second when he’d found her after David had taken her from him. It was sharp and vicious and demanding and Joel wasn’t sure she knew how to come back from it.

“Will hurtin’ him help you?” Joel asked as gently as he could. She looked up at him, that sharp look still in her eyes.

“He hurt my mother,” she said, a hint of barely contained rage on her face. “I need to make him pay.”

He considered her for a second, trying to think clearly as he looked at the young woman who had once been the girl he’d shepherded across the country. In so many ways, she was still that little girl, one who he’d protected and failed at protecting, one who he had saved and had led to her near demise.

Would this be any worse than anything she had already suffered? Would it hurt her any worse than the things that Joel had allowed on his watch before, when he hadn’t been good enough to take care of her the way she deserved? Would it be, somehow, any more terrible because he allowed it?

Ellie was so like him in so many ways, ways that terrified him when he thought about it. There was a passion in her that so easily bloomed into rage and he knew what it was to keep that stifled and smothered. He knew, too, what it was to take it out on another human being, even one who deserved it.

He adjusted his grip on the knife and held the handle out to her. She went to take it but he pulled it back for a moment.

“Can’t kill him,” Joel said. “Understand?”

“Joel…” Tommy said at his back, but Joel just held out his empty hand, silencing him.

“Understand?” He repeated, watching Ellie closely.

She hesitated a moment, watching him back with those sharp, dark eyes.

“I understand,” she said, taking the knife from him and turning to Cody. She cocked her head, examining him cooly.

“Please,” the man whispered, looking up at her.

“Which fingers did he take?” Ellie asked, not looking back at Joel.

“Outside two,” Joel said, a twinge in his chest as he said it. “Her wedding ring with ‘em.”

Ellie nodded, her grip tightening on the knife before lowering her knee to pin Cody’s wrist of his intact hand to the ground.

“I told you I was gonna fucking kill you,” she said, her voice dangerous as the man tried weakly to pull his arm away from her. “My dad told me not to do that. But I am going to make you fucking pay.”

She slammed the knife into his hand with a sharp, angry cry, more hacking at him than cutting, striking him again and again until she was splattered with blood and Cody had screamed himself to silence. Joel’s stomach twisted at the sight of it, the satisfaction at knowing Cody’s agony twinged with an ache of his own at the sound of Ellie’s pained scream.

“If you’re just gonna let her fuckin’…” Tommy snapped, nudging Joel roughly to the side and stepping around him to wrap his arms around Ellie from behind, forcing her to still. She quieted then, no longer screaming and just sobbing instead. “It’s OK baby girl. C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up…”

“No!” She tried to shake him loose but he held firm. “I want him to hurt! I want to make him hurt, I want him fucking dead, he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve to live, he doesn’t…”

“I know,” Tommy said gently. “I know. But you hear him? He’s passed out, you’re not gonna make him regret this any more than he already does and Joel’s gonna finish him. He’s not gonna live, OK? He’s paid for it, he’s hurt for it, it’s OK baby girl.”

The knife slipped from her hold then, lying beside the mangled flesh and bone that had once been Cody’s hand. His pinky and ring fingers were completely gone.

“C’mon,” Tommy said again. “Gonna get you cleaned up, let Joel finish the job, then we’ll get movin’. You’re OK.”

He pulled her gently to her feet and gave Joel a deadly look as he passed, Ellie gathered against his side as he led her away.

Joel knelt and picked up the knife, every inch of it splattered in blood now. He didn’t care. He took Cody’s chin in his hand and gave his head a sharp shake and the man gave a sharp gasp before trying to cough but choked on his own blood instead, his eyes opening slowly. He couldn’t even lift his head now, his eyes the only thing it seemed he could really move.

“Wanted you to be awake for this,” Joel said, his voice a deadly calm. “Wanted to make sure you felt it. Wanted to be sure you knew why you were dying.”

Joel thrust the knife into Cody’s side, burying it fully between two ribs and twisting it there. His eyes went wide and his body thrashed as much as it could but it was a useless endeavor. He started gasping for breath, the gurgling sound of him starting to drown in his own blood overwhelming the sound of the woods around them as Joel pulled the knife from his side.

“You could have lived, you know,” Joel continued. “Could have spent the rest of your years anywhere but Jackson, never would have looked for you. She asked me not to look for you, to just leave you alive. Felt like she owed you somethin’. Maybe she thought you’d been a good man once, long time ago. But you and me, we know the truth. You were never a good man, never had it in you to be good. You didn’t deserve her mercy so you ain’t gettin’ mine.”

“You…” he gasped and choked. “Promised…”

“Promised what?” He asked. “To make it quick for you?”

He didn’t give Cody a chance to respond. Joel just shrugged.

“I lied.”

He thrust the knife in between the same ribs on the other side, twisting it and pulling it free before wiping the worst of the blood on Cody’s pants and getting back to his feet. He put his hand in his pocket, the one that held the pieces of you. He traced your wedding band with his thumb, feeling your cold skin below his touch. How many times had this flesh laced with his? How many times had it tangled in his hair or squeezed his arm or touched his cheek?

He held it himself now, trying to keep the pieces of you warm as Cody drowned in his own blood. His dying breaths were harsh and rasping and desperate, the last gasp of his mortality clinging to this life as though there was anything but pain to be found for him here. As if there was anything he deserved beyond pain. Just before the light left his eyes, Joel picked Cody’s fingers up off the ground and opened his mouth, forcing them inside. He stood back again, watching as he tried to take two quick, shallow breaths around them before going completely still.

“Joel,” Tommy said from behind him.

Joel looked down at Cody’s body for a moment longer. This man had hurt you, raped you, taken you. He was dead now, at Joel’s hand. There was justice in that. He spit on his body all the same.

He turned to find his brother and daughter standing side by side, Ellie’s eyes still sharp but rimmed in red, her cheeks puffy. Both of them were wet, Ellie no longer splattered in blood.

“We should move,” Joel said, stalking toward Cody’s horse. Tommy just watched him as Joel mounted up, the horse pawing at the ground for a moment as he got settled. He looked back at his brother. “If you ain’t got the stomach, Tommy, I’ll do this myself…”

“I’m comin’,” Tommy said, going to another horse and mounting up, too. “Just hope you don’t get lost in the process.”

Joel didn’t say anything. What was there to say? That the man he had the potential to be had left when you did? That, without you, there was nothing left to lose?

He didn’t need to say it. Somehow, he was sure, Tommy knew.

Instead, he nudged his horse forward, starting on the path given to him by the man he’d left in pieces on the ground.

Next Chapter

A/N: So Joel is pretttttttty damn feral at this point. I'm not sure I've ever written a Joel quite this unhinged and that's not even accounting for the fact that the juxtaposition between Jackson Joel and Feral Joel is pretty harsh. He's just gone, at least for now.

There are just three chapters left of this fic now (I think, the way some of this chapter flowed means it may grow to 41 chapters but I don't think so)! Next chapter is going to be a big one, one that's been building for the whole of this fic and I'm so excited for it. I hope you are, too!

Thanks for being here through this INSANELY lengthy journey both in word/chapter count and in time. It feels like we've been with Joel and Bambi forever and that's because we kind of have been - almost a year now! I hope you've enjoyed the ride. I know I have.

Love you!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust @ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost @beccerjune @mumma-moonchild @netonetoneto @mellymbee @purplelye @n7cje @flugazi @evyiione @randomhoex @aliengirl99 @orcasoul @reds-ramblings @pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel @jenispunk @panda-pascal @sarap-77 @flugazi @your-slutty-gf @daniegraceg @partyofone3413 @cumberpegg @noisynightmarepoetry. @fifia-writes @grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123 @ashleyfilm @arizonadreamingg

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc

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charnelhouse · 2 years

Text

mausoleum (2)

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!Reader (other pairings later) Wordcount: 4.5K Warnings: gore. ptsd. references to captivity and torture. implied cannibalism. implied sex. there are mentions of hair. blood transfusion. needles. Summary: Red is grievously injured. 141 races against the clock to save her. A/N: Many thanks to @sprout-fics and @moondirti for reading through this because my damn eyes were crossing. Also, huge thanks to @ghostaholics who helped me with all the blood transfusion nonsense and ghost thots in general

Chapter 1

The rain continued to pour down with a violence. The pharmacy was cold-the kind of cold that was trapped in the linoleum and sunk into Price’s skin. Red’s hair had fallen out of its binding-spreading across the dirty floor. The blood was syrupy and dark as mud. Her eyelids hung heavy; her lips parted around uneven breaths. As if time had shifted, Price was suddenly seeing something else: Red Fox lying on that metal table in Kursk, her wrists bone-thin and strapped down. Her face so swollen it was nearly unrecognizable.

It had only been a month. How could they have done the damage they’d done in a single month?

But Price wasn’t an idiot, and he hadn't been an idiot then. He knew their enemies would have seen Red as something worth destroying. The sounds the men of 141 had made at the sight of her would never quite leave him. Incredulity. Shock. Rage. A wellspring of sadness had taken up residence within their circle. Red had been precious to them. Perhaps it was unfair to say that, but it was true. Regardless of what her and Simon had been, she’d also embedded herself into each of their lives and refused to move. She fought well. She survived better.

Having to witness her be completely broken had destabilized them. It was as if the sky had cracked and fallen. The stars had collapsed against them and they could not push them back up.

Now, she had been nearly killed again.

Soap’s low cursing brought him back to the present. Johnny was hovering over her still form, his fingers gently pulling at the blood-drenched scarf Ghost had wrapped around her shoulder.

She was conscious, but her coloring was worrisome. Soap worked on her vitals, revealing a penlight from his vest to check her eyes. The backdoor to the pharmacy jingled and Ghost whirled around, gun aimed. It was only Gaz.

“They had nothing,” he said, stalking down the aisle. “Guns had no bullets so it was all for show.”

Price rubbed his jaw, feeling the tender hump of a bruise from a hit he’d taken outside. Cannibals. He hadn’t been surprised, though he felt like it was too soon for that level of desperation. They were probably the individuals who’d always wanted to-unafraid to commit something that barbaric when cans of food remained on the shelves. He’d seen men like that, especially in the military. They were the ones who signed up because they wanted a license to kill.

He glanced to his left where Red’s attacker lay, his head twisted at the wrong angle.

Good riddance.

If they hadn’t gotten here sooner…fuck. He didn’t want to think of that. She’d certainly been through enough with Kursk only a year or so before. Truthfully, it felt somewhat cosmic. Price was a logical man. He believed in what he could see, taste and feel. But after the outbreak, he had lost contact with his reason.

Today had been lucky.

“Christ!” Gaz exclaimed once he spotted Red on the floor. “She alright?”

“Obviously,” Red replied before Price could. The words were faint, whistling past her lips. “Hi, Kyle.”

“Hey, darling.” Gaz’s eyes swung to Price. His expression worried.

“Captain,” Soap murmured, turning to look up at him. The “captain” had stayed though Price had told them that they were all on equal footing. He supposed it was easier for them to remain in their positions. It allowed order. Familiarity.

The fact was that there were no clear plans left. There were no predictable outcomes. Everything was belly-up, ass backwards. Fucked beyond comprehension. It made his teeth itch and his chest hurt.

“What is it?” Ghost asked, striding past Price and crouching down beside Red. His gravelly voice was cut with a vulnerability he didn’t bother hiding. Ever since Red had been placed on leave, Ghost wasn’t himself. He’d been less cautious and more aloof if that was possible. He took mission after mission and then hid away in his room. Price watched as Ghost’s hand automatically went to her shoulder, his thumb finding her jaw to stroke it briefly before he moved it away. Another memory from Kursk shuddered through Price’s head.

“You know what they fucking did to her,” Ghost choked out. He was losing it, completely falling apart. “You saw the reports. What the doctor said. What she said. She fucking remembers everything and-and I wasn’t there.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“You know it is. If I hadn’t run…fuckin’ hell…if I hadn’t run…” Ghost couldn’t finish the sentence.

”I can patch it for now,” Soap explained. “But I need more supplies. We’re runnin’ low.” He chewed his lip as he glanced down at the black bag beside him. “Everything is soaked in rain water and mud. I’m nervous she’ll get an infection.”

Red suddenly lifted her head, fingers twitching against her stomach. “House,” she rasped, lashes fluttering. She coughed and Ghost wordlessly curled his arm around her shoulders before subtly maneuvering himself behind her so that she could rest against his chest. It was an intimate move. She was a little thing and Ghost was unnaturally tall and broad. With her collapsed against him, it emphasized how Ghost dwarfed her in every way. They fit well together.

“What’d you say, love?” Soap urged, nudging her hair away from her face. “Your house?”

She nodded weakly before looking at Price. It took her a worrisome amount of effort to move her eyes. “Up the road. We-we have supplies…Price knows where it is.”

“I do,” he confirmed. “Soap—bandage her shoulder and we’ll get her there.”

“Aye,” Soap said as he began to rummage through his bag. Abruptly, he stopped. “Did she say we?”

***

The rain spat at them while the dense mud packed their boots. Thank god for the road. Gaz sat on the horse with Red, his arms secure around her waist as she rested against his torso. They’d swamped her in their dirty, sweat-soaked jackets to keep her warm. Beneath her hood, the tip of her nose and strands of her hair were the only things visible.

The path was eerie, cloaked in a veil of mist and shadow. Price had seen the occasional body off to the side, rubbery limbs hidden in the grass or trees. He’d experienced a lot of fucking death in his life, but the kind he was witnessing daily made him prickle. It was wrong. You expect corpses on the battlefield, but not outside a quaint village and wearing giraffe-print galoshes.

They walked in a single file line. He took the front with Soap. Ghost at the rear, shadowing the horse holding Red and Gaz.

“So,” Soap began as he inched closer to Price. “Have you been to her home before?”

“No,” Price’s fingers itched for a cigarette. “She recently inherited it from her parents. Before she left, she gave me the address.”

“It’s big I presume?”

Price chuckled. “It’s got its own wikipedia page.”

They’d come here for a few reasons. One-he’d wanted to find Red. She was part of their group. She was his family. She was vital and he wouldn’t leave her out here. Truth be told, he’d been scared. He knew her mental state when she’d been put on leave. She was in perpetual rigor mortis—her mind completely brutalized from what had happened to her in Russia. Even he didn’t know everything they’d done to her, though he could guess from her medical records. When he’d sat beside her hospital bed, she’d been so raw that he’d been terrified to say the wrong thing. He’d attempted to be a physical presence, offering her quiet words of comfort, but then she had left. She’d been effectively kicked out and Price wished he’d done better by her.

It was why he’d been so adamant to find her.

The idea of Red in isolation as the world ended left him stricken. He’d called and called, attempted to find her on the radio, but had only been met with static.

The second reason was that he figured moving away from the cities and into farmland was their best option. Many of the great castles and estates had been running since the middle ages. They’d be ideal shelters when modern infrastructure ceased. No gas. No electricity. They’d go old school.

He hadn’t really asked for the other’s opinions when he’d made the plan. 141 had been forced to flee the barracks, seeking refuge in one of their previous safehouses outside Edinburgh. After he was unable to make contact with Red again, Price had walked into the room, ready to declare the mission, but Ghost had beaten him to it.

“Red?” he’d asked, his mask pale in the dark. His head bent forward with his massive shoulders hunched. Ghost had been a fucking mess, forlorn and deeply angry.

That was all he had to say. Red. The rest didn't matter. Where else would we go? What else would we do? Because they couldn’t move forward without confirming if she was alive or dead.

“Yeah,” Price had replied. “We’re going to find her.”

We’re going to find our girl.

In the distance, Price could see the road split. The entrance to the estate was to the right. He could make out the looming iron gate. There was so much greenery, overwhelming foliage.

Before they’d left the pharmacy, Red had described the traps she’d set up around the property.

Be mindful of areas with too many leaves. Also, a bunch of trip wires. You’ll get your head shot off.

“God,” Soap drawled. “I missed you.”

“Such a sicko,” Gaz snickered, reaching out to take Red’s hand.

Slowly, but surely the enormous house came into view. You could only make out the tips of the estate's spires rising above the trees. Red’s family crest gleamed from the center of the gate’s bars.

Soap whistled. “That ‘duchess’ nickname was a little on the nose. Thought Simon came up with that.”

“He did, but I don’t think he really knew Red was-” He gestured vaguely in front of him. “-all this.”

“Captain!” Gaz shouted and Price whipped around, gun raised and ready. Even from a distance, it was apparent that Red had gone boneless, head lolling forward.

Simon was already beside the horse, his hands disappearing beneath Red’s hood to engulf her face and lift it up. Soap cursed and sprinted toward them.

“She wasn’t responding to me,” Gaz hissed, voice tense with unease. He grimaced as he lifted his arm to reveal the front of his shirt awash in blood. “I-I didn’t realize-everything’s fuckin’ soaked from the rain.”

“Open her jacket,” Soap ordered and Ghost ripped at the top of it, pulling it away from her body. Crimson sheeted down her chest, soiling her thin shirt. Ghost’s hands slipped from her arms to her cheeks, cupping them and incidentally smearing blood across her jaw and chin.

“Jesus fuck, Johnny!” Ghost’s tone was one Price had heard only a few times in his life. It was wrinkled with nervousness–unhinged fear. “Did you not wrap it right?”

“I did!” Soap sealed his hand to her shoulder, but it was impossible to see shit in the rain. “Could have nicked an artery and we just—just didn’t know.” She was ashen, a waxy sheen clinging to her pallor.

Price steeled himself. “How much can she lose?”

He wouldn’t crack. Not here. He couldn’t afford it when everything was already bad enough.

“Twenty to thirty-five percent?” Soap checked her pulse. “Her heart rate is accelerating.”

“God damn it,” Ghost growled, his eyes darting from her shoulder to her rapidly deteriorating color. “Red?” He shook her gently and her head lolled. She made a soft, whimpering noise before going quiet. “C’mon, Red—wake up for me.”

Her brow furrowed, her lids parting a crack before they shut again. Simon swallowed thickly, the muscles in his neck spasming. The hem of his black mask had ridden up to reveal blonde hair stained dark from rain and sweat.

“Simon–” Price tried before the larger man suddenly straightened, snapping to attention.

Wordlessly, Ghost repacked the sodden gauze into the wound and rewrapped her shoulder. He shoved his gun at Soap and lifted her clean off the horse. He maneuvered her into his arms, cradling against his chest.

“I can take her, Simon,” Gaz protested.

“No,” he replied flatly. “Have to avoid the trip wires and you can’t see shit from a horse.” He began to move toward the house. “Price-be my eyes here. Don’t want to get shot. Johnny–what do we need?”

He was holding her like she was a fragile egg, stalking towards the looming iron gate without jarring her. Soap and Price jogged after them.

“Needle, blood bag, a rubber tube,” he replied. The storm had picked up again and Price wondered if God was fucking with them. “A donor.”

“I’ll give it to her,” Ghost said without skipping a beat. “I’ve done it before…” he trailed off and the rain washed out the rest of his words.

***

Simon couldn’t think, at least not in a straight definitive line. Not good. He was capable of coldness on the field. He could patch one of his teammates up with one hand while shooting with the other.

But, Red? Different. So fucking different.

He’d broken the man’s neck in the pharmacy, but too little too late. She’d still been hit and she was now close to death. He rushed through the front gate, stepping over the wires that Red had described before she’d gone quiet. He should have been more aware. He should have been watching her the second she’d stopped speaking on that damn horse. It was torture as he attempted to race toward the front door of the estate while keeping her comfortable. He felt as if he was straddling a knife edge, kicking up gravel as rain water sluiced into his vision.

The air was frigid. The wind was biting at his neck.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured through the wet seal of his mask. “You’ll be alright.”

Simon hauled ass up the stone steps just as Soap barreled past him to open the door. It was locked.

“Fuck,” Soap punched the wood before turning to Ghost. “We can break a window?”

“Ghost,” Gaz shouted–a warning.

Soap punched the door again, his knuckles splitting.

“Ghost!”

“What?” he roared, whirling around to find a woman aiming a gun at them that was far too big for her. She glared, long dark hair falling in limp strands around her face. She was dressed in only shorts and an oversized t-shirt. Her green rain boots were covered in mud.

“Who the fuck–” Her eyes fell to Red and she blanched, her mouth gaping in shock. “Oh my god!”

Soap stepped in front of Simon and Red. “Alright, lass-”

She lifted the gun higher. “What did you do to her, you fuckin’ assholes.”

Gaz slid around her, hands up.

“Nothin’,” Gaz defended, voice steady and calm. “Look–we’re friends of Red’s. She got attacked in the village and she’s bleedin’ out-”

“How do I know you didn’t do it yourself?” The girl's lip trembled. “You-you could be using her as bait and-”

“WE DON’T HAVE FUCKING TIME FOR THIS!” Ghost bellowed. The girl flinched and Gaz slipped between them. Always the voice of reason.

“She’s dying,” he explained. “Please let us in-”

Price appeared behind her and seamlessly snatched the gun from her hands. “Safety’s still on, love.”

Startled, she nearly stumbled backwards over the steps before Gaz grabbed her by the arms, tugged her to him, and locked her against his chest. “Will you open the door now?”

Simon was done. He felt real fear begin to pour out of him, his whole frame shivering with it. He was taking on water too fast. He was sinking. Rage. Terror. He could not accommodate them both. He glowered at the woman, vowing to kill her if Red died. “Open. The. Door.” His threat spurted between his clenched teeth. His tone was frigid-dark and unyielding.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay–Slim–Slim said never to open it for anyone even if-if-”

Gaz released her and when she stepped toward the door, Simon realized she was crying. The rain had disfigured her features.

“Just open the door, love,” Price murmured. He squeezed her shoulder and guided her closer. She winced when she brushed past Simon.

Visibly shaking, she pulled a ring of keys from her pocket and unlocked it.

***

It was utter chaos. They’d placed on the table, her injury no doubt staining the expensive wood. Simon scanned the kitchen and found it unadorned. It was all stone and wood, enormous and obviously meant to be utilized by an entire staff. He assumed that only the appliances had been updated, the rest was centuries old. He blew out a breath, feeling uneasy. The corners of the room were shadowed by the storm that howled outside. The windows provided little light and the woman-Bambi-was lighting several candles. Price and Gaz were searching for medical supplies in the storage closet across the room. Red had apparently invested in a plethora of equipment and tools long before the pandemonium had begun.

Good girl - Simon thought. Red had always been one to prepare rather than wait for the other shoe to drop.

“What happened?” Bamb was hovering beside the table, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. She looked dazed, eyes focusing on the crimson-drenched bandages at the base of Red’s neck. Soap removed a pair of scissors from his bag and began to cut through her shirt.

Bambi winced. “Oh-don’t-she doesn’t have many-”

“It’s fucked, lass,” Soap replied bluntly. “You should maybe sit in the next room.”

“I can handle it,” she returned with conviction. “I’ve…” she swallowed. “I’ve seen worse.”

Soap shrugged before removing the bandages. Heart thundering in his chest, Simon watched as Red’s blood spilled in rivers, pooling beneath her. Immediately, he flattened his palms to the wound.

“Steamin’ Christ,” Soap rumbled before yelling at Gaz to bring him more gauze. He turned to Bambi. “You have small hands.” He gestured to the large first-aid kit on the table. “Find the sewing kit, clean and thread a needle for me.”

There was red up to his elbows, everything drenched and slippery. The room stank of pennies. Tasted like he’d licked a metal instrument. Blood had never bothered Simon before, but he was beginning to feel lightheaded. That’s fear.

“She’ll be alright,” Soap muttered, glancing momentarily at Simon before focusing on Red’s face. “She’s survived worse, yeah?”

Simon steeled himself, aware that he couldn’t lose his head here. It was bad. Her coloring was frightening and how could they have been so stupid to not have realized she’d been fading out?

“Foolish girl.” Simon grunted as a deep, unsettling frustration began to simmer beneath his skin. Typical Red. Fucking martyr. Probably, felt herself losing consciousness, but didn’t want to be a bother.

Anger was an easier emotion to carry. Anger had been the feeling he’d harbored when she’d told him about her condition right before Kursk. He’d run away from her. He’d been an immature fucking child and left her. He’d been inexplicably pissed at her and for what? Something totally out of her control. A complete accident that they were both responsible for.

“We can figure this out, Simon,” she’d told him. “We don’t have to make any rash decisions. We don’t-we don’t even have to go through with it.”

“I-I just need some time,” he’d said. “I’m sorry. I’ll be back and we can-we’ll talk.”

He’d gone on a mission. Left her. It was only supposed to be for a couple of days, but she’d been so upset and desperate for her own distraction that she’d taken on a mission herself. A simple recon assignment.

He had never forgiven himself when she didn’t come home.

“Simon,” Price had said, meeting him the second he’d stepped off the helicopter. “Simon-”

His stomach had dropped. He’d known it was about her by the look on Price’s face.

“Where is she?” he’d growled and Price’s expression dismantled into something distressed.

“We don’t know,” he replied. “There was an explosion. She got separated.We-we think the Kursk faction took her.”

Next to Red, Price had always been Simon’s anchor in certain situations. He was reliable and he withstood every horrible disaster thrown at him. But when Red had been taken prisoner, the Captain had been visibly shaken.

“Alright-shit’s about to get really messy,” Soap said as he yanked on a pair of latex gloves.

“Here!” Bambi passed Soap the threaded needle. Soap had become the resident medic only because he had nimblest hands from dismantling bombs. He’d also picked up quite alot when he’d been fucking one of the nurses a few years back.

“Hopefully she doesn’t feel this,” Soap murmured before he poured rubbing alcohol over the angry slit.

Red’s eyes flew open, mouth slanting into a gasp. She twitched and moaned before attempting to shove Soap away.

“Hold her, hold her,” Soap gritted. “I won’t be able to close it.”

Simon placed one hand on her uninjured shoulder and the other on her face. His palm encased it-spanning the entire side of her cheek and temple. Price appeared at the end of the table and held her legs down.

Simon said her name softly. Her real one. He said it the same way he used to say it when it was just them and the morning and her shitty narrow bed and they’d probably just had tender, desperate sex. Her eyes found his and Simon smiled before realizing she couldn’t see it due to his mask.

She hiccuped, her chest hitching. She was beginning to cry.

“She needs to calm down,” Price barked. “Simon-”

Fuck it.

Simon ripped off his mask and threw it somewhere. Even though all of his enemies were likely dead, the mask still served as a crutch. It was still his armor.

But Red needed him.

Simon readjusted his grip and lowered his face so that it hovered over her own. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he demanded. “Look at me.” She blinked at him rapidly before she seemed to focus. Her lips twitched into what could have been a smile. It broke something inside him.

“I’m here, alright,” he continued. “We’re all here. We’re just sewing you back up so we need you to relax.” The stench of blood and disinfectant wafted from the table. It stained his boots and hands. He drowned in it.

Her mouth moved, but he couldn’t understand what she was trying to say.

“Only a flesh wound, duchess.” His voice was dangerously close to cracking. He couldn’t find his direction. He couldn’t find much of anything when she looked so fragile.

It’s fine. We’re okay now. Out of the woods.

And then shit went south.

Red’s lashes fluttered, her eyes rolling back. Simon reached down to grip her wrist. “Her pulse is elevating, Johnny.”

Soap cursed.

“What’s happening?” Bambi asked. Simon took a deep breath in an effort to hold it together. He jammed his aching terror into his guts because he knew Red needed him strong. She needed him to be solid and dependable.

“She’s going into shock,” Soap explained before he continued to stitch her now that she had gone fairly still, pinned to the table by Simon and Price. He was sewing faster than Simon had ever seen him do before. It would be a mess, but it would save her life.

“Thatta girl, Foxy,” Soap cooed even though she was hardly cognizant. “Doing beautifully, lass.” He cast Gaz a sharp look over his shoulder. “Start on Ghost. Price can help me.”

Simon didn’t need to be told twice as he dropped into one of the chairs. It creaked violently beneath his weight. He ripped at the buckles and straps of his vest before removing it and his jacket.

“Lucky for us, Red apparently stole multiple sorts of kits.” Gaz lifted an oven tray with a catheter set, elastic and needles.

“She raided the medical facilities nearby before anyone even knew what was going down,” Bambi said. “Went a little overboard.”

“Typical.” Soap grinned as he poured antiseptic over her shoulder. She was unresponsive, which caused him to frown. “She used to tell us what she’d do in a zombie apocalypse. The girl was ready.”

Gaz slid next to Simon and lifted his left arm, flicking at the inside of his elbow. Simon curled his hand into a fist while Gaz secured the elastic around his bicep, the black rubber blended into the ink scrawled across his skin. It pressed deep into his Fox tattoo.

Her gaze was locked to the top of his bicep. She squinted, her tongue darting along the cracked flesh of her lower lip. With a gentle finger, she traced the tattoo, her expression melded into a soft sort of wonder. After a moment, her eyes watered and she blinked it away.

“A fox?” she murmured, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Is that for me or another lady?”

He scowled. “Don’t be cheeky, duchess.”

Undeterred, she grasped his bicep and kissed the tiny fox. His declaration for her. He couldn’t help the shudder that vibrated through his bones. The warm, wet pressure of her pretty mouth. A devastating feeling burned through him as he watched her, small and beautiful and his. He must protect her, curl himself around her. Destroy everything else. Start at the root and tear it from the soil. Any fucking threat to her safety.

Well, he had failed her. Spectacularly.

Gaz pierced Simon’s vein with the needle before directing it into a tube. He sighed, shaking away the dizziness. He was dehydrated and hungry and on no sleep, but it hardly mattered.

Soap took the other needle and elastic before tying it around Red’s right arm. The IV catheter sat between Simon and Red as the dark - nearly black blood - was transferred between them.

Simon studied her intently, feeling that if he looked away she’d die. Her heart would stop right on that table and he’d never be able to speak to her again.

Red had been human for him. He’d watch her cry after a tough mission and she’d allow him to hold her. Burrow her face into his chest, cling to him and sometimes they’d fuck and sometimes they wouldn’t. Simon demanded her tears. Give them to me, love. Let me take your pain and I’ll never fucking forgive myself for being so late—for being unable to find you when you needed me most. Yes - he had failed her spectacularly and it felt as if he’d failed her again.

Your heart is soft, duchess.

It is not.

Soft as Soap’s.

Soft for you, maybe.

Gaz taped the needle to his arm, helping Simon elevate it just enough. Simon braced his elbows on his knees as he studied her skin and its new scars. He hadn’t even realized she was completely bare on top. He felt a weight drop in his gut-a basket of stones turn over beneath his ribs. Most of those marks were from Kursk. He swallowed. Rage. Again, rage. It set his nerves on fire and made his muscles spasm.

You killed them. You killed all of them for what they did. You tore them apart.

Suddenly, Simon reached out and took her hand. Due to their size difference, it was utterly dwarfed in his grip. He dragged his thumb across the vein in her wrist and felt the delicious thrum of it.

“Her color is coming back, L.T.,” Soap acknowledged before finally stepping away from the table and dragging both hands down his face. He exhaled loudly. “Christ–I think I’ve lost a year off my life.”

Bambi glanced at him. “She’ll live?”

“Looks like it. Just pray she doesn’t get an infection.”

Simon prayed.

***

Please share/reblog your thoughts, babes!

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1K notes · View notes

shellbilee · 3 months

Text

Hey There Darlin' - Chapter 6

A Glen Powell RPF series

Thank you for all the love on this story! x

Glen

Glen is turning the heat on the stove down when he hears the doorbell ring, Brisket’s shrill bark ringing out throughout the house. He jogs down the hallway, scooping up Brisket on the way, aware that he’s already smiling even before he reaches the door. He lets out a breath and opens the door, feeling his whole body heat when he sees her standing there.

Billie.

She’s still dressed in her jeans and shirt from earlier, though her hair is now loose and flowing, framing her face in long soft waves. She looks beautiful.

Nugget is wagging his tail excitedly, happily panting from his spot at Billie’s legs, Brisket immediately scrambling in his arms to meet his new friend again.

“Hi again”

“Hey gorgeous” he says, loving the way Billie’s smile grows even bigger.

She steps inside and Brisket launches from his arms, Glen immediately reaching for Billie's waist and pressing his mouth to hers. He kisses her tenderly, his mouth firm but gentle against hers, her lips soft and plush and exactly as he remembers from only hours ago. His hands grab at her waist and her arms reach up to wrap around his neck, Glen only pulling away when he feels his lungs start to burn.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that again since the moment we left the restaurant” he whispers after a moment, smiling down at her breathlessly before bending and kissing her again.

It’s like he can’t get enough of her.

Billie bites her lip when they part - her perfect, plush lips, and Glen has to stop himself from groaning out loud, his grip on her waist momentarily tightening.

“Me too” she replies with a shy smile, her cheeks now flushed a lovely pink, her fingers unclasping and sliding down his chest.

They smile at each other and eventually separate, Glen closing the door behind them as the dogs take off down the hallway.

“Your house is incredible” Billie breathes, looking around when they step into the expansive open plan living area, Glen watching as she scans the room around her, “This makes my place look like a studio apartment”.

She looks back up at him with a smile and Glen feels his chest tighten at the sight.

He chuckles, his hand brushing the small of her back.

“Drink?”

Billie raises one eyebrow and tilts her head as she looks at him, “Only if you’re having one?”

He smiles as he walks into the kitchen and sets about pouring them both a glass of pinot, Billie walking over and running her hand over the black marble benchtop.

“Smells amazing too. What’s for dinner?”

Glen winks conspiratorially. “It’s a surprise. My specialty”.

Billie grins adorably as she sets down her bag. “I’m excited”

He walks around the bench and hands her the glass of red, tapping his glass against her in a cheers.

“Want a tour?”

Billie nods enthusiastically.

“Of this mansion? With that view?” she says gesturing dramatically over to the glass doors that line the whole side of the house - the outdoor deck and luxury pool sit in view just outside, an expansive, stunning view of the Hollywood Hills just beyond it, “Absolutely I do”.

Glen laughs and takes her hand, leading her down the hallway to show her the rest of the house.

Ten minutes later, awe is etched all over Billie’s face.

Glen is in awe too, except it’s got nothing to do with his house and absolutely everything to do with Billie.

How can anyone be so utterly adorable and so God damn sexy at the same time?

He can't think of anything he wants to do more than pull her to him and kiss her until his lips are sore, to feel her skin beneath his fingertips, to taste her on his tongue.

The house tour is basically torture - it’s even worse than their workout this morning, something Glen would have previously believed was impossible until just now. He can’t stop his brain from picturing himself taking Billie on every available surface in his home.

The way she’d look bent over the back of his black leather couch, his hands running over every stunning curve of her naked body.

Or the way she’d look lying spread open in the middle of his bed with her head thrown back, as he licked between her thighs like a man starved.

Or the way she’d look pressed up against the stone wall of his luxury shower, water dripping down her luscious frame as he drove into her again and again and again.

Billie is all but oblivious to the sinful thoughts running through his brain, Glen struggling to listen and respond appropriately to her comments about each new room he takes her through.

Fuck.

Every part of him is already hoping she'll stay the night, but he knows he's being forward. After all, he's only known her for forty-eight hours.

But still.

The way her ass looks in those jeans? The way her ass would look out of those jeans and instead spread in his hands as he bent her over?

My God.

Glen manages to hold himself together and eventually they finish at his favourite spot in his house - the lounge on the outdoor deck that overlooks the pool and the rest of the expansive yard.

Glen instructs Billie to take a seat while he goes to check on dinner, Brisket and Nugget full of seemingly boundless energy as they run chaotic laps of the grass chasing one another.

When Glen returns outside minutes later, he can't help his smile at the sight he’s greeted with. Brisket is standing on Billie’s lap, his little tail wagging furiously as he looks down at Nugget in front of them, while Nugget stands on the floor barking at his tiny friend to come down and play.

Before Glen can open his mouth to comment on the scene in front of him, Brisket launches himself from Billie’s lap and sprints down the deck, Nugget tearing off after him and giving chase onto the manicured lawns below.

“Dinner should be ready in about forty-five” Glen says when he walks over to Billie and sits down on the lounge beside her, stretching one arm out along the back of the couch.

“Can I help in any way?”

Glen scoffs and Billie laughs and shakes her head, clearly knowing her answer without him even saying anything.

She shifts on the lounge to face Glen, tucking her now bare feet underneath herself, her phone slipping off her lap in the process.

It's then that Glen notices there’s a video playing on her phone, his brow furrowing as he picks it up and inspects the screen.

“I didn't know there was a game on today?” Glen comments, instantly recognising the video as a sports channel.

Billie laughs and shakes her head, reaching up to tuck one side of her long hair behind her ear.

“There isn’t. It’s Aussie rules, from back home” she explains, taking her phone from Glen and looking down at it almost wistfully, “Football. My team is playing”.

“Do you want to put it on the TV?” Glen asks, gesturing to the enormous TV mounted on the wall of the outdoor deck area.

Billie frowns and looks at him oddly, causing Glen to let out a laugh.

“I have every sports channel available Billie”.

Her face softens then, her teeth flashing in a gentle smile.

“Of course you do” she says with a chuckle, shaking her head in amusement, “But no, it’s ok, I don’t want to force you to watch a sport you know nothing about”.

Glen scoffs for the second time in two minutes.

“Don’t be silly. I love sports” he says as he suddenly sits forward and reaches for his own phone, unlocking it and scrolling through to the TV app, “Besides, I wouldn’t say I know nothing about it. I got to stand on the Sydney stadium when I was in Australia. The SCG I think it was called?”.

Billie laughs as the TV starts up, Glen leaning over to double check the channel from the video on her phone, “I wouldn’t exactly call that knowledge of the game”.

Glen grins and shrugs, clearly unphased, putting his phone down on the coffee table in front of them when the game starts playing on the screen. He leans back on the couch and stretches his arm along the back, this time his hand finding Billie and pulling her back into him.

“You’ll just have to teach me the rules then”

She smiles gorgeously up at him - that same fucking smile that's blessed his nearly every thought for the last two days, and Glen feels himself melt.

“Thank you” Billie breathes, shifting beneath his arm, reaching up to cup his cheek and pulling his face down to hers in a gentle kiss.

He smiles when Billie cuddles into him, the sweet scent of her peachy perfume filling his nose, his arm draped across her front giving her a soft squeeze.

Billie's fingers wrap around his and Glen looks down at their intertwined hands, feeling a wave of contentment wash over him at the sight.

He lets out a silent sigh and relaxes back into the couch, holding Billie's body against his as they watch the screen together.

---

“He’s holding him!” Billie nearly screams at the TV, throwing her arms up into the air in exasperation, “How do you not call that umpire!?”

The play continues without intervention from the referee and Billie drops her arms dramatically, muttering curses under her breath and running her fingers through her hair.

Glen can't help the way he's grinning at Billie, loving how fired up and passionate she is about her team. She's exactly like he is with his Texas Longhorns.

“Holding him?”

Billie turns back to look at Glen, her previously angered expression instantly softening.

“You can't hold another player and block their attempt at getting the ball” she explains, making quotation mark signs with her fingers when she says hold, “So like if the ball was coming to you, I could try and bump and contest with you, but I couldn't say, hold your arm down and stop you from trying to mark the ball”.

Glen shakes his head and laughs.

“This sport has so many insane rules” he says, taking a drink of his wine, “And I still can't believe the players don't wear any protective gear”.

Billie laughs, sitting forward on the lounge and reaching for her own glass of wine on the coffee table.

“The tackles aren't nearly as rough as they are in NFL though”

“Are you kidding? That guy almost took that other guy's head off before”.

Billie chuckles and taps her fingers against her wine glass before taking a sip. “Yeah but that wasn't allowed either. I'd almost guarantee that he'll be written up for that and get at least a one week suspension from playing”.

“They should at least wear helmets to protect their heads”

“They can wear helmets, but they're not a full on one like the NFL players would wear. They're not hard, they're made of a moulded foam material so I'd call them more of a head guard than a helmet”.

“Crazy”

Billie laughs again. “They wear mouth guards though. Gotta protect the teeth you know”.

Glen shakes his head. “I swear you Australian’s are just on another level”.

Billie chuckles and slides back on the couch again, sitting back beside Glen. He wraps his arm around her as she does so, pulling her back into him and giving her waist a gentle squeeze.

“I wouldn't say another level” Billie replies with a soft chuckle that makes Glen's insides warm, “Perhaps just tough?”.

She grins and winks one gorgeous eye at him, Glen grinning back in response.

“My worst injury when I used to play, back when I was in my early twenties” Billie says suddenly, sitting up and turning to Glen, pulling aside the collar of her shirt and exposing her golden collarbone, “I got tackled by this girl and she just crunched me underneath her. Dislocated my shoulder and snapped my collarbone in half”.

She points at a long white spidery scar on her collarbone and Glen does his best to pay attention, trying his hardest not to notice that she's just given him a now near uninterrupted view of her cleavage. His brain almost short circuits as he eyes the swell of her left breast, the hand that was previously holding Billie now gripping at the soft material of the outdoor lounge.

“Part of it came through my skin. Honestly it was the most sickening sound, I still get shivers thinking about it” Billie explains, looking down at her shoulder and back at Glen.

“The sound? Not the pain?”.

Billie shrugs. “I remember it hurting, but the sound is what really haunts me”.

Glen just shakes his head.

“See? Another level”.

Billie drops her head back and laughs, her eyes crinkling and her cheeks bouncing in a way that Glen finds adorable. He smiles at her, his eyes dropping back to her scar.

He reaches out and runs his fingers over it, feeling the thickened, bumpy ridges that are still somehow soft beneath his touch. He swears he sees Billie shiver then, and all at once he has to fight the overwhelming urge to lean in and kiss along her scar, to run his tongue across her collarbone.

Before he can actually do it though, the beeping of the kitchen timer stirs him from his thoughts. His hand drops from Billie and she readjusts her shirt, Glen instead putting down his wine glass and hauling himself to his feet.

“Are you sure there's nothing I can do?”

Glen nods.

“I'm sure darlin’. You stay out here with the boys” he says looking down at Billie, gesturing to the lawn where Brisket and Nugget are still chaotically chasing one another.

“You can let me kiss you though” he adds with a mischievous smile, loving the way she grins back up at him.

“That I can definitely do”

His own grin grows and he bends to kiss her, cupping her cheek and pressing a gentle kiss to her waiting lips. He winks at her when he pulls away, making his way into the kitchen and leaving Billie outside with the dogs.

—

Billie

“You don’t need to help me with dishes Billie”.

Billie ignores his words and pushes past him in the expansive kitchen, earning a deep chuckle from Glen.

“You’re stubborn, you know that?”

Billie laughs this time, unable to help her grin.

“Nope, I’m just a good dinner guest” she fires back as she bends to put her plate in the dishwasher, looking up in time to see Glen’s face split into a wide grin.

They’d just finished dinner - an amazing dinner of Glen’s apparently famous Texan pulled pork tacos, sitting down outside on the outdoor lounges as the sun had set over the valley in front of them. Billie had been in love from her first bite, almost moaning out loud when the spicy smoky flavours hit her tongue, both Nugget and Brisket sitting close by on guard for any dropped pieces of food.

She stands up and holds out her hand, Glen reluctantly passing her his empty plate for her to stack next, along with their dinner cutlery. He steps around her and moves to the sink, setting about cleaning the dirty stove pot. For a moment Billie can’t help but smile at the domestic-ness of the moment, of something as small and simple as doing the dishes together.

“On another note though, that was amazing” she says when she stands back up again, moving to lean against the marble bench, her front facing Glen beside her, “You really are a man of many talents. Acting, running, cooking. Is there anything you can’t do?”.

Glen chuckles, his hands soapy with dishwater bubbles, the overhead lights of the kitchen highlighting the planes of his face covered in the smallest amount of stubble. For a second, Billie finds herself wondering how his face would feel beneath her fingertips. Beneath her fingertips, and against her skin.

God.

“I can’t touch my toes”

Billie can’t stop the bubble of laughter that escapes her throat then, covering her mouth with her hand to suppress the sound.

“Really?”

Glen nods his head earnestly. “Really”.

“I stand corrected then. Acting, running, cooking, but most definitely not a gymnast”.

They both laugh and Billie grins happily, looking up when Nugget and Brisket come bounding into the kitchen. She bends to pat Nugget, smiling at his goofy, golden smile, standing up again and turning to Glen as he rinses the pot and rests it on the drying rack beside the sink. She rests her hip against the marble bench top, folding her arms across her chest as she looks at him.

“Seriously though, dinner was incredible Glen. Thank you so much for inviting me tonight” Billie says, watching as dries his hands on the dish towel.

The smile he gives Billie then makes her want to melt into a puddle on the floor, right there on the luxurious kitchen tiles.

“You’re welcome Billie”.

Her name in his voice makes her stomach flip flop, just like his stupidly handsome smile. Never mind her heart rate that suddenly goes through the roof when Glen steps towards her, her breath catching in her throat when his hands find her waist.

Billie can’t help it when her eyes flicker to his lips, his stubble covered jawline, his soft, sandy hair that’s messily slicked back. She feels his eyes search her face, soft and pale green, the colour making her want to stare at them forever.

All at once her mind is empty except for how much she wants to lose herself in Glen, and then as if he can hear exactly what she's thinking, his hand is snaking up her back and coming to rest on the side of her jaw. His eyes move to her mouth and she feels herself exhale, and all of a sudden Glen's lips are on hers, tender and wanting, and delicately coaxing hers apart.

Billie lets him take the lead, lets him deepen their kiss, feeling like putty in his hands as he all but steals the breath from her throat. His lips move against hers, a delicate dance of push and pull, his fingers moving to her hair and holding her head in place. She feels his free hand slide down her back and then finds leverage on her ass, her feet suddenly leaving the ground as she's lifted onto the bench.

The marble is cold against her thighs, even through the denim on her jeans, but she barely registers the feeling as Glen's tongue suddenly finds hers. She can't help the soft moan that falls from her then, the sound having a clear effect on Glen - his fingers tightening their hold and his hips pushing her legs apart so that his front is pressed against hers.

Billie feels herself slipping. She's losing herself, feeling almost entirely consumed by Glen and his mouth. His kiss feels like heaven, a delicious, intoxicating feeling that she just wants to drown in, his scent, his taste, his feel, completely overwhelming her. She can feel her heartbeat in her ears, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, her fingers gripping desperately at the nape of his neck as he kisses her over and over.

She can’t remember the last time she felt like this. And all they’d done is kiss.

Just when she thinks she can’t possibly slip any deeper, any further into the blurred fog of hedonistic want, Brisket’s shrill barking pierces her ears and she feels Glen’s lips suddenly slow. She’s instantly aware that her chest is heaving, lungs burning from being temporarily oxygen starved, Glen’s own breath heavy as he pulls away and rests his forehead against hers.

Her lips tug into a smile at his tender action, her hands slipping down to cup his face. He smiles back at her with that soft, handsome grin that she’s quickly learning is classically Glen, bending and kissing her once more before pulling away and turning to look at Brisket at his feet.

He’s wagging his tail furiously, looking up at his owner standing beside him, letting out another high-pitched bark that’s almost insistent and tapping his two front paws.

Billie grins and raises one eyebrow, tilting her head as she looks at Glen, now standing with his hands on his hips and looking down at Brisket.

“I assume that means it’s dinner time?”.

Glen clicks his tongue, shaking his head in an almost annoyed amusement.

“You’d assume right. God forbid it gets past seven-thirty and he hasn’t eaten yet”.

Billie laughs and jumps down off the bench, bending to pat Nugget - who’d since taken a seat beside Brisket, and was watching his new friend with curious interest.

“I suppose that means you’re hungry too then hey?” Billie asks, smiling when Nugget’s head snaps to face her at the word ‘hungry’.

Billie grins down at her golden fur-child and chuckles. “C’mon bud”.

She walks over to her bag and pulls out the kibble mix she’d packed earlier, Nugget following happily behind her, drool already starting to form on his jowls.

“Another wine?” Glen asks when Billie’s walking back inside, having taken both the boys outside to feed them on the backyard deck.

She notes that there’s a soft country music song playing in the background now, a candle burning on the wooden coffee table in the centre of the room. The lights are dimmed, shadows thrown across the space and broken by a soft glow from the lamp in the corner.

Billie smiles, reaching up to run her fingers through her long hair.

“I shouldn’t. I have to work tomorrow”.

Glen laughs. “That doesn’t sound like a no darlin’”.

She exhales heavily, grinning as she flops down onto Glen’s luxurious black leather living room couch.

“Okay but this has to be my last one or I won’t be able to drive home”.

Glen chuckles, low and deep, the sound making Billie’s muscles squeeze. She can’t help but think for the thousandth time how handsome he is, watching his muscles ripple beneath his tight shirt as he walks over to the couch, two red wines in his hand.

“Maybe that’s my plan”.

Billie shoves him playfully as he sits down beside her, causing Glen to chuckle again.

“You know you can stay if you want to” he adds, passing her a glass.

Billie shoots him a look and Glen lifts his hands innocently. “No no, not for that reason, I’m just saying, you’re welcome to stay”.

Billie smiles inwardly, taking a sip of red and feeling her chest flush. She wonders idly if it’s to do with the wine, or the fact that her brain suddenly can’t help but imagine what would undoubtedly happen if she stayed the night. Either way, she struggles to keep her thoughts in line for a moment.

She tips her head back against the couch and sighs softly, turning to look at Glen beside her.

“As much as I’d love to, I know I have a crazy day tomorrow since I took Friday off for Rufus” she explains, swearing she can actually feel the fibres in her body protesting the moment she says that.

“Do you have a busy rest of week?” Glen asks, shifting closer to her on the couch and making Billie smile when he picks up her legs and drapes them over his lap.

She nods, explaining that she has a couple of athletes doing qualifiers this week, so it won’t necessarily be busy, but it will certainly be a full on week. She tells him about Hayley, one of her favourite clients, a seventeen year old junior getting back to her first gymnastics meet following a dislocated shoulder.

“Do you always go to their events?”

“It would be impossible for me to do it for all of them, but for the ones that I can, I try my best” Billie says, taking another sip of her wine, “ But I've been working with Hayley for the better part of a year, so I definitely don't want to miss hers”.

“When is it?”

“Thursday lunch-time” Billie explains, already looking forward to her late morning start.

She looks over at the dogs, the two apparently having run out of their seemingly endless energy, now snoozing peacefully on the grey living room rug.

“Do you have set hours at work or is it all over the place?” Glen asks, his free hand falling to Billie’s left knee.

She can’t answer him for a moment, too caught up in the way her skin is suddenly burning from his touch, even through the material of her jeans. She looks down at his hand and swallows, her brain conjuring the image of his hands on her skin without clothes and temporarily blanking her thoughts.

Fuck.

She clears her throat, gripping her wine glass tighter.

“Ah for the most part it's the same, but occasionally it's thrown around when there's games and events for me to go to” Billie answers, looking back at Glen and loving the way he’s watching her face so intently, “Generally Tuesdays and Fridays I start early and finish early, whereas Mondays and Wednesdays I start later and finish later. Thursday is usually my paperwork and mentoring day so they’re always a bit more low key”.

“What about you?” she asks after a beat, taking another sip of red, “I imagine you have absolutely no routine to your schedule and every week is different? I have no idea how you deal with that” she adds, shaking her head with a smile.

Glen laughs and says that he’s used to it after all this time, and that he has a relatively quiet week coming up - a couple of meetings with his agent and publicist, and a photo shoot later in the week. He adds that most of his projects have finished filming and that his next press tour isn’t for a few weeks yet.

It’s then that it dawns on Billie that this is the first time they’ve actually spoken about his work, and she can’t help but notice the gaping difference between their two lives.

“What project is the press tour for?”

“Twisters”

Billie tilts her head. “As in like Twister, the tornado movie from the nineties with Helen Hunt?”.

Glen nods, “That’s the one”.

“I used to love that movie. I didn't know they were re-making it” Billie says, eyebrows raised in surprise, looking down when Glen moves his hand to her foot.

“How’d you get this scar?” Glen asks suddenly, changing the subject, running his finger tip along her left ankle, “Another football injury?”.

Billie shakes her head and smirks.

“Nope. Worse”

Glen looks back at her expectantly. “I'm not sure you can get worse than your collar bone coming through your skin darlin’”.

Billie chuckles, tilting her head as she looks back at him.

“Stung by a jellyfish when I was eight”.

Billie can't help the laugh that escapes her when Glen's eyebrows shoot up in shock.

“A jellyfish?”

“Specifically, a box jellyfish”

“Wait, can't you die from those?”

Billie laughs again. “You absolutely can”

Glen just stares for a moment, and Billie swears she can see his brain searching for an appropriate answer to say back to her.

Instead he just shakes his head and takes another sip of his wine, looking back at her with an expression that she can't help but grin at.

“Like I said earlier, you Australian’s are literally on another level”.

Billie just laughs and shrugs her shoulders, Glen looking back at her scar and running his fingers along the deep purple lines on her skin.

They settle into a comfortable silence then, the soft background music the only sounds in the room, and Billie realises how content she is. More content than she expects to be with a guy she's only known for forty-eight hours. A guy who happens to be absolutely gorgeous, and also just happens to be an A-list celebrity.

If someone had told her last week that she’d be on a couch with Glen Powell, drinking wine with her feet in his lap, she’d have flat out laughed in their face. Billie smiles to herself, letting out a silent breath, looking down at her almost empty wine glass.

“I suppose I should probably go. I need to get my ass into gear for tomorrow”

Glen bends forward to put his now-empty wine glass on the coffee table in front of them, turning to look at her with a gentle smile.

“Again, you know you are more than welcome to stay”

Billie chuckles.

“As tempting as your offer is Mr Powell, respectfully, I must decline your sleepover proposal” she says, finishing her own wine and nodding her thanks when Glen takes her empty glass and puts it with his, “This time anyway”.

Glen looks at her with one eyebrow raised, the sudden mischievous glint in his sage green eyes nearly making her moan out loud.

“This time?”

Billie shrugs her shoulders innocently.

“This time” she answers quickly, offering her own mischievous grin and loving the way he looks back at her.

Billie swings her feet out of Glen’s lap and stands up from the couch, fully aware of the way he’s suddenly staring at her ass as she stands in front of him. She walks over to grab her bag, the movement stirring the dogs, Nugget suddenly standing and stretching out his front legs.

“So when can I see you again?” Glen asks when she’s finished putting on her shoes, his hands finding her waist and pulling her flush to him.

For a split second Billie wonders if her breath will ever stop catching in her throat every time she feels his hands on her body.

She reaches up to wrap her arms around his neck, bending to press a quick kiss to his waiting lips.

“How about Wednesday? We can grab a drink? Or, you and Brisket can come to mine for dinner?” she suggests, her gaze flickering back to his lips when he wets them quickly with his tongue, “I finish a little later on Wednesday but… I don’t have to go in until midday the next day”.

She knows the insinuation hits Glen immediately, feeling his grip on her waist momentarily tighten. Her own muscles squeeze deliciously and suddenly she has no idea how she’s possibly going to wait until Wednesday.

“Wednesday’s perfect”

Glen grins down at Billie and for a second she forgets how to breathe, threading her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck as he bends down to kiss her. His mouth is insistent, his tongue quickly finding hers, their kiss tender and heated as if they both know what’s inevitable at their next meeting.

Eventually they part, and Billie silently sucks air into now her starved lungs, feeling her chest heave as she gazes up at Glen. His lips are parted and his eyes are almost glossy as he looks down at her, and in that moment Billie's almost certain that his thoughts mirror her own.

She bites her lip, her fingers gripping tighter in his hair, the corner of her now swollen lips tugging into a salacious grin.

Wednesday cannot come quick enough.

---

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@angclvings @auntiegigi @friedchips94 @memories-in-bw @maeleelee @jessicab1991 @bellaireland1981 @queenslandlover-93 @itsjustkhaos @kneelforloki @djs8891 @lovemesomevesey @entertainmentgirl80 @buckysteveloki-me @stankface

#glen powell #glen powell fanfic #glen powell fic #glen powell series #glen powell smut #glen powell x ofc #glen powell fluff

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hwashotcheeto · 8 months

Text

𝑩𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑭𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅'𝒔 𝑴𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 (4)

Best Friend's Mother Masterlist

Chapter: Four

Milf!Park Seonghwa X gn!reader

Summary: A week has gone by since your late night secret with Seonghwa. You kept telling yourself to not entertain the idea of anything more than a one night stand. But Wooyoung, as always, throws a wrench in your plans.

WC: 4.4k

CW: Suggestive towards the end, kissing, touching, lots of teasing, Wooyoung is a cockblock, fluff, cuddles

AN: I spent a whole day writing this, my body hurts, my brain hurts, but I wanted to get this chapter done so badly. I hope you all enjoy it.

Tag List: @hyunjinsjeans @malldreamprincess @unlikelysublimekryptonite @becauseilovedyou @kittkat44 @babyxhoiz @asleepylilcat @mxnsxngie @rxnexxi @mommahwa1117 @acciocriativity @anxiousskylar @h3arteyes4mingi

“Hey guys,” Wooyoung said as he entered the living room. “I have an idea for something we can all do.”

The announcement shouldn’t have filled you with fear, but it did.

The week was a roller coaster, if you had to be honest. You’d wanted to keep your interactions with Seonghwa to a minimum, only talking to him if he talked to you, only if you absolutely needed to.

And it felt like torture.

You wanted to talk to him, you wanted to be nice, you wanted to sit with him and have long conversations about anything and everything. You wanted to give him hugs like Wooyoung did.

But you were scared of what would happen if you let yourself do that. If you fell deeper into him. If your lust for him turned to something more than sex.

You weren’t ready to confront that. Despite Wooyoung constantly dragging you with him to do anything, and “coincidentally” always having Seonghwa be there too, you didn’t think it was something beyond Wooyoung wanting to spend time with you. And of course, you were going to spend time with Wooyoung, so you were in a difficult spot.

And yet, the whole time you were trying to subtly avoid him, Seonghwa wasn’t dumb. And unfortunately, he was more observant than you’d thought he was.

And he hated to admit that he thought about it every time he laid down to sleep. He’d lay in his bed for hours and think about you. About the night you had together.

The way you’d look away when he tried to talk to you, the slight red tint in your cheeks when he’d call you “dear” or “sweetheart,” the little tremor in your voice when you talked to him. He was hopelessly attracted to you, and he knew you felt the same way about him.

And you both were battling with your desires in your own ways.

If only you knew that the gorgeous man you were daydreaming about was doing the same thing just one wall away.

You force a sweet smile at Wooyoung as you come back to the present. Seonghwa also looks up at him.

“Eomma, you know that restaurant you’d take me to as a kid?”

Seonghwa smiled and shook his head. “I’ve taken you to many restaurants.”

“The really expensive one that we went to for special occasions?”

“What’s the occasion?” You wondered. In the back of your mind, you wondered if Wooyoung was about to reveal his “relationship” with San to his mother. But the smirk Wooyoung was giving you shot that theory down quickly.

“Isn’t our presence enough of an occasion?” He answered, standing up straighter, puffing out his chest a little. Seonghwa laughed and shook his head again.

“Your presence is always an occasion, nae sarang, but I can’t just take you. That place-”

“Requires reservations,” Wooyoung interrupted, finishing his sentence. “Well what if I told you I already took care of that?”

You and Seonghwa both blinked, not completely believing him. You had no idea where this was going, or what restaurant they could possibly be talking about. Even if you did know the name, it wouldn’t have helped, because you could never afford to go to a restaurant nicer than Olive Garden.

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa started, in the signature disappointed parent tone that said everything without having to say it. The tone that meant “you shouldn’t have done that.” But it didn’t dissuade Wooyoung in the slightest.

“Come on, why not? I haven’t been there in a long time, and it’s something we can all do together.” He put extra emphasis on the word “together.”

You turned your attention to Seonghwa, and he was looking at Wooyoung with nothing but love in his eyes, with a little smile on his lips. He knew that no matter what excuse he made up, he was going to relent. He was going to say yes, because there was no reason to say no.

Part of him wanted to see how serious Wooyoung was. Part of him wanted to see what else Wooyoung was up to. He had his suspicions, but couldn’t tell for certain.

“What day do you have this reserved?” Seonghwa asked, tilting his head back a little.

“Tonight,” Wooyoung said proudly. “The perfect night to go out to eat.”

Time had started to warp and bend for you since you were thr0wn off your usual schedule, but Wooyoung had mentioned to you earlier that it was a Saturday. You realized now why he bothered to point it out.

Seonghwa still pretended to roll the idea over in his head. Both you and Wooyoung knew he was faking it based on his smile, but you two were still waiting with bated breath for his answer.

And finally, Seonghwa sighed and nodded. “Okay, when do we have to be there?”

Wooyoung did a little happy dance and squealed. You smiled and sighed in relief.

You didn’t feel so scared about the idea of going to dinner with Seonghwa knowing Wooyoung was going to be there. You’d have to throw together a decent outfit from the clothes that you brought, but you were sure you could do it.

And that’s what you did. About an hour before you were going to leave, you had taken a shower and made yourself look nice before you went to sort through your clothes. Just a simple outfit, but it still made you look put together. It wasn’t luxury, but it would pass decently for an hour or so.

As you were going to leave the room, there was a knock on the door. When you called for them to come in, Wooyoung peeked in. He took one look at your outfit and shook his head.

“No, that’s not gonna work.” He left and went back into his room. You followed him, befuddled.

“What do you mean, I look fine!” You protested, but Wooyoung was already going through his closet to look for something better. He frantically grabbed at different clothes, looking them over, and rejecting most of them.

“Fine isn’t good enough, this is a high class restaurant.” Wooyoung pulled out a shirt that he was satisfied with and tossed it onto a nearby chair. “Thankfully, your awesome best friend is here to help you.”

You sighed and looked at his outfit. He wore black slacks with a belt, with a white button up tucked into the shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his arms. This was the nicest you’d ever seen Wooyoung in the entirety of your time knowing him, Wooyoung never dressed up for anything. Not even to the formal events your college hosted.

Realizing that, you decided to listen to him and accept the clothes. You let Wooyoung dress you in the outfit he’d picked, and he helped fit and adjust it so it looked good on you. He accessorized you as well, with a couple of necklaces and rings.

You had to admit, when Wooyoung was done with you, you looked much better than you did before. Much more worthy of a fancy restaurant dinner.

Wooyoung also put a coat over your shoulders. “To match the outfit,” he commented.

“I have a jacket, Wooyoung.”

“Not one that goes with your clothes.” You rolled your eyes, but buttoned up the coat regardless. He had a point, sure, but you mostly just wanted him to shut up.

You and Wooyoung made your way to the front door and waited for Seonghwa.

“How do you have all these nice clothes anyway?” You asked, remembering that you never asked what Seonghwa did for work. With his nice house and Wooyoung’s extensive wardrobe, he had to be doing something amazing.

“My mom is a model,” Wooyoung says nonchalantly, looking at his phone.

Oh. Of course he was.

“What does he model for?”

“Mostly shoes, but he does a lot of other stuff. He has a couple deals for a few different luxury brands.”

Of course he does.

As you were about to continue, you heard a bedroom door close, and the familiar click of heels across the hardwood and down the stairs.

Your breath caught in your throat as Seonghwa came down the stairs. Good Lord, he looked fucking stunning.

He’d dressed himself in black slacks, a white, long sleeved turtleneck, and heels. Heels.

His silky black hair was curled and fell down in beautiful waves, his bangs framing his face perfectly. A few gold chains hung from his neck and rings on his fingers. He’d even put on makeup, with small wings by his eyes and sparkly eyeshadow, with sparkly, glossy, pink lips.

You had a sudden urge to kiss him.

You knocked yourself out of your daze when Seonghwa came over to the door. “Are we ready to go?” He asked as he reached into the closet for a coat.

Wooyoung pushed off the couch, already having a coat like you did. “Yeah, we-” And then his phone began to ring. “Oh-Sorry, let me take this.”

Wooyoung took a few steps away as he answered the call. “Hey. Oh, no. Oh, that sucks. Do you want me to come help? Yeah, I can come over. I’ll be there soon. Okay, bye.”

“Who was that?” Seonghwa asked, fixing his coat, which was white and fluffy, and long enough to cover his entire body, leaving it open. You tried to focus your attention on Wooyoung instead, who was putting his phone into his coat pocket.

“A friend from college, he needs me to come over.”

You had a strong feeling who that “friend” was.

“What happened?” You asked, but Wooyoung was already making his way to the door hurriedly. You grabbed onto his arm to stop him, and as he looked at you, you could see in his eyes that he was scared.

There was genuine fear there. Your stomach suddenly filled with dread wondering what could’ve happened to this unnamed “friend.”

“I’ll explain later, I just really have to go.” He pulled his arm out of your grip and opened the door. “I’m sorry, you two should still go enjoy dinner!”

“Wait, Wooyoung,” Seonghwa tried to stop him, but Wooyoung was already gone.

And you and Seonghwa were alone. As the silence stretched on, another realization dawned on you.

You were about to go to a restaurant and have dinner with Seonghwa. Alone.

“Well,” Seonghwa began. “Do you still want to go?”

“Yes,” you blurted, way sooner than you wanted to. Seonghwa’s lips curved up into a smirk.

“You don’t have to hide it anymore, sweetie. He’s gone.”

Your heart stops and you can feel sweat break out all over your body. Of course he knew, of course he’d seen how you were avoiding him and being shy around him. But you weren’t prepared for him to confront you about it.

And all that you can say is a soft, strangled, “What?” Seonghwa laughed softly and closed the gap between you two, standing over you. He made you feel so much smaller than you already were.

And you wanted to grab him. Desire burned in your bones to reach out and hug him, pressing your face into his chest, being safe and happy in his arms, letting the rest of the world fade out.

But you held yourself back, and forced yourself to keep eye contact with him. And he was loving the panic in your eyes.

“You can relax. It’s okay.” Seonghwa grabbed your hand and held it gently. “Enjoy this night with me.”

“But Wooyoung-” You tried to argue, but Seonghwa shook his head.

“He’s an adult. He’ll be okay. I’ll leave my phone on if he needs me.” He squeezed your hand gently. “Please. Come with me.”

And who were you to tell him no, when Seonghwa was asking you to go with him?

You followed Seonghwa into the restaurant, and you were already impressed in the first few seconds.

The entrance had little lanterns on the walls with candles inside them, illuminating the small hallway to the hostess stand and the rest of the building. There were large potted plants along the carpeted walkway, and the walls were adorned with large, gorgeous paintings of different landscapes and animals.

You stayed close to Seonghwa, but still far enough away to not touch him. He didn’t allow that, he grabbed onto your hand and laced his fingers with yours. The small gesture made your stomach flip over.

The hostess looked up and smiled at Seonghwa, and she started speaking in Korean. You heard her say “Mr. Park,” but you couldn’t understand anything else. Seonghwa responded, but there was a slight stutter in his voice.

You looked up at him, but before either of you could say anything else, the hostess motioned for you to follow her, and she led you into the dining area.

The dining area had the same theme of decor as the hallway. Dark moody lighting, lanterns, paintings and plants everywhere. The tables ranged in different sizes, from large to small, and nearly all of them were full.

But there was one open small table, with only two chairs with it.

You and Hwa took your seats, removing your coats first and leaving them on the chairs. You turned to Seonghwa and you nearly choked seeing him in the low lighting. Highlighting the bright parts and increasing the shadows, he looked like a character from a movie.

“It’s funny,” Seonghwa began, looking at you. “The reservation was under my name. For only two people.”

Your heart stopped for a second. And then you couldn’t help but laugh.

Wooyoung, the fucking brat. He set you two up. He was never going to come with you two.

Seonghwa laughed too, a soft, beautiful sound. “Did you tell him?”

You shook your head aggressively. “No, he told me not to.” And as soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. Seonghwa’s eyes flicked up to you, and chills ran all across your body as when his eyes met yours. A smirk appeared on his lips again.

He was about to make a comment when a server came over and, in Korean, began to speak to Seonghwa. The look on his face disappeared and was replaced with a bright, award winning smile.

And somehow, jealousy began to burn in your bones, seeing the server clearly flirting with Seonghwa. You couldn’t understand what either of them were saying, but the way the server was smiling, giving him half closed eyes, laughing at what he said, it made you angry.

You balled your hands into fists by your sides, trying to keep your face neutral as the conversation went on. It was brief, but it was enough to piss you off.

The server walked away and Seonghwa turned his attention back to you. You forced a small smile and unclenched your fists. Seonghwa smiled back and crossed his arms, leaning on the table. You awkwardly kept your hands in your lap, not knowing what else to do with them.

“I’m sorry you’re getting left out of a lot of conversations. All I did was order for us, I hope you don’t mind what I got.”

“We’ll see when it gets here, won’t we?”

“Of course, we’ll see.”

And silence went over you both. You weren’t sure how to do this. This was less of a simple dinner and more of a date, and you’d been working to avoid this. But now you were sitting in front of him at a luxury restaurant waiting for food.

You had no idea how to fill the gap, since you hadn’t ever planned for this. You could see in Seonghwa’s eyes that he had ideas. But he just watched you.

He delighted in how you squirmed under his gaze. Holding eye contact, but nervously fidgeting and shifting around. Maybe he was just a little bit of a sadist.

“So,” he finally said, sitting up to take a drink of water. You let out a heavy breath and gulped, suddenly needing the water too. “Should I teach you a few words? Just for fun?”

“Sure.” You set the glass back down and put your hands back in your lap, still fidgeting with them. “That sounds fun.” You smiled, but it was weak and forced. Seonghwa was living for your nervousness.

“Okay, first word, eomma. It means ‘mom.’”

“Wooyoung uses that one,” you piped up. “I guessed that’s what it meant.”

“Yeah, that was easy.” He went quiet as he tried to think of more words to teach you, and one popped up in your head.

“What about the one you call Wooyoung?” Seonghwa looked at you, and his smile spread across his whole face.

“‘Nae sarang?’ It means ‘my love’.” His smile made butterflies burst in your stomach.

“That’s cute,” you squeaked out, reaching for the water again. Seonghwa’s eyes sparkled in delight.

“I thought so too,” he mused, leaning back on the table.

He was playing you like a goddamn game and you were falling right into it.

He was teasing you, toying with you. Trying to break you and admit that you wanted him as badly as you knew you did. He saw it all over you, but you refused to admit it.

But he’d made you. He knew he’d make you crumble for him.

“How about another cute one? ‘Jagiya’ means “baby,” like the pet name.”

The looks Seonghwa was giving you while he was teaching you these words was obvious. You knew the game he was playing. And you were powerless to stop it.

“Yeah, it’s cute,” you said softly. Seonghwa moved so he could prop his head up on his hand, under his chin.

“Why don’t you try it? Go on, say it.”

You gave your best attempt at the word, and Seonghwa’s heart fluttered hearing you say it. He was already imagining you calling him that.

And maybe someday, nae sarang.

No. That’s ridiculous. That would never happen. That’s not possible.

But what if it was?

The food came not long later, and the same server from before was the one to deliver it. The server was more bold this time, putting a hand on Seonghwa’s shoulder while she spoke to him.

The jealousy bubbled up in you again. Aren’t servers not allowed to touch customers unless it’s an emergency? This had to be a violation of some kind. Could you report the server for being inappropriate? Maybe, but you don’t know how you would.

“Sweetheart?” Seonghwa called softly. You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at him. You realized the server was nowhere to be found. How long had you zoned out?

“Sorry, I-”

“If looks could kill, that server would’ve been dead and buried.” He said as he picked up a pair of chopsticks. He spoke so matter-of-factly that it almost sounds like a lecture. Your cheeks burned hot and you looked down at the food, which looked delicious. A noodle based dish. “Go on, try it. I think you’ll like it.

So you did. You struggled with the chopsticks for a bit before you got a hold of them, which Seonghwa found adorably amusing. You grabbed a small bite of the mixture and took a bite.

And he was right, you loved it.

“Oh, this is so good,” you mumbled as you continued to eat, trying to remember your table manners and restrain yourself. Seonghwa could only smile as he watched you.

“I’m glad you like it.”

You both ate with minimal talking. Mostly because you were starving and hadn’t eaten in a long while, and you were loving the food. Seonghwa didn’t mind, because he was happy enough being here with you.

You were adorable. Plain and simple. You were stuck in his head.

Which is why he wanted you to admit that you wanted him to.

You got back into Seonghwa’s car as he did, settling back into the seat.

“Thank you for that, Seonghwa.” You looked over at him. “I really appreciate this. This was really nice.”

“You’re welcome, jagiya.” He started the car and began the drive home. He’d made the drive many times before, with Wooyoung, who had set you both up. It’d be an interesting conversation when you both got home.

You were sitting in the seat beside Seonghwa with your brain shorting out from the pet name. Jagiya. You knew there was a chance he’d use it on you, but it still broke your brain.

“Jagiya?” Seonghwa called softly. He glanced over at you, and he smirked, seeing your eyes glazed over.

Seonghwa placed his hand on your thigh. Gently, very gently. He didn’t move, he just kept his hand there. Just a gentle, steady pressure.

But he felt how your thigh tensed under his hand. He glanced up at your face, and your eyes were wide and clear, but your hands were gripping onto the seat below you.

“Do you want me to stop?” Seonghwa asked softly.

“No,” you blurted.

It shouldn’t have made him so happy to hear that, but he felt the desire bloom in his bones. He gently squeezed your thigh, massaging it.

And it made fire shoot up your leg and all over your body. Your stomach was churning inside you, your head was growing light. You didn’t think you could melt so badly from a simple touch, but you felt like you were actually turning into a puddle in the seat.

Every night, all week, he was in your head. You were thinking about your night together. His hands on your body, his arms around you, how his touch lit you on fire. You craved it more than you knew.

Seonghwa’s hand moved up your thigh, and you couldn’t cover your mouth in time before the whimper fell past your lips. Seonghwa bit his lip at the soft sound.

“I missed you, sweetheart.” His voice had slipped into a deeper octave, something more sensual. “I wanted you back in my bed. Don’t deny it anymore, you wanted it too, didn’t you?”

You bit your lip to stifle the rest of the noises that tumbled out of your mouth. The constant circles he was rubbing into your inner thigh, right next to where you needed him most, mixing with his voice, his confessions, you were a mess.

A mess just like he wanted.

“You wanted me too, jagiya. You thought about me, you wanted me. You wanted me to fuck you again just like I did before.”

Somehow, you were back at the house already. You hadn’t paid attention, how could you? Your brain was wrapped up in Seonghwa, all in him. Just him, and how badly you wanted him again. He was right, of course he was.

He turned to look at you, with his eyes half closed, his hand still on your thigh. He squeezed tighter than he had before.

“Tell me you want me to fuck you, jagiya. Tell me.”

Fuck it.

“I want you to fuck me, Mommy.”

“Good doll.”

You both quickly got out of the car and into the house. You pulled your shoes and coat off, and dropped it onto the couch. You turned to Seonghwa and choked on nothing as he stripped his coat off, tossing it aside, his eyes trained on you.

The only light in the room was a lamp by the door, making him look fucking angelic. An angel here for you.

He grabbed you and pushed you against the wall, his hands on your waist, his body pressed against yours. Your hands locked around his neck and pulled his lips to yours, beginning a messy, passionate kiss, all tongue and teeth.

Desperation clawed at you both like a frantic, wild animal. Seonghwa’s hands wander to your shirt, pulling it up and rubbing up against your skin, his lips traveling down your neck.

“You don’t want to go to bed?” You breathed, gripping onto his pretty silky hair.

“We’ll get there eventually, I need you now.” He gripped onto your waist again, pressing against you harder, almost pushing you up the wall.

Your legs fell open for him almost embarrassingly easily, but all pride had been thrown out the window.

Seonghwa’s hands ran down and grabbed onto your thighs, and you grabbed onto his shoulders, ready to jump into his arms.

Until you both heard the front door open.

You and Seonghwa both immediately jumped away from each other, trying to pretend that you weren’t just all over each other as Wooyoung came in the door.

Seonghwa had gone over to put his coat away, and flashed a fake smile to his son. They exchanged a brief “hi” before Seonghwa tried to cover up the sin you were about to commit.

“We just got home too! Did everything work out with your friend?”

“Oh, yeah.” Wooyoung took off his coat as well, and you couldn’t help but smirk when you saw his messy clothes. His shirt was untucked, his collar wasn’t properly fixed.

And oh, what’s that, just under his jaw? A little bruise. And how would Wooyoung get such a small bruise in a spot like that?

It took everything in you to not burst into giggles knowing exactly where Wooyoung had run off to.

All three of you agreed that everything worked out, everyone pretending they didn’t know anything about each other, before you headed up to your separate bedrooms. Not without you giving a little smirk to Wooyoung.

You’d give him shit in the morning about his dirty little secret. You knew you would.

But you were back in bed, laying awake, thinking about Seonghwa.

Fuck. This was a new level of desperation for you.

And realizing how badly you wanted to be back with him sucked any sexual energy out of you. You just wanted to be in his arms now.

As quietly as you could, you snuck out of your room and went to Seonghwa’s door. You didn’t bother to knock, you couldn’t risk waking up Wooyoung.

You slowly opened the door and slipped inside. Seonghwa was already waiting for you, and happily pulled his blankets back to let you into bed.

You crawled in and laid next to him, putting your head on his chest. He held you tight and close, and finally, what you craved was yours.

“Too risky to continue?” You whispered.

“Too risky,” he whispered back. And that was fine with you.

At least now you had him. You had his arms around you. You were in his bed. He was rubbing your back. Your head was on his chest. And everything felt right. Everything felt good.

Whatever your future held, you knew it would have Seonghwa in it. You would be sure of it. How could you ever let him go?

“Stay with me,” he whispered. “I really did miss you.”

“I missed you too,” you whispered back.

And you stayed.

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed! 💜

This is a work of fiction written by me. This does not represent the idol(s) in any way. Any re-upload is not allowed and will be reported.

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez ff #ateez x reader #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa fanfiction #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa fic #seonghwa ff #seonghwa x reader #best friend's mother

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amvpk01 · 7 months

Text

PATHETIC YANDERE

unwanted obsession 3

when obsession goes beyond admiration, it turns into repulsion and the search for love becomes a path of rejection.

cw: non-con, obsession, rejection, violence, stalking, humiliation, kidnapping, manipulation, murder, mentions of torture

(sorry if it's bad, I lacked creativity and didn't even proofread this chapter, by the way, last of this Yandere)

previous || masterlist

How would you describe trust? Perhaps a son who leans on his mother for comfort or best friends who are always there for each other.

However, the truth is there was no concrete definition.

Sometimes trust came in the form of keeping a secret, sleeping at the house of a friend who was just a stranger before, or even having food made for you in the knowledge that it wouldn't be poisoned.

Yet humans reimaned weak in the face of emotions and life was just a game that only the egoists survived.

Perhaps you were to blame for getting him obsessed with your touch.

Your blame for chatting him up at school.

Your blame for messing with his feelings.

Your blame for not blocking him when he texted you.

The regret was real and too painful to handle, but it wasn't possible to go back in time. You have to bear the consequences of your past actions and look for a way to undo them.

The process was slow and you were fully aware of it. The best thing you could do was start with small actions. By stopping pushing him away every time he came near, saying small 'thanks' or ceasing to speak insulting words.

After a month, you had to eat your pride. Whether it was crying for him to sleep with you saying you'd had a bad dream or begging for attention while you hugged him.

It was apparent that he enjoyed it and trusted that you were starting to fall in love with him in the same way he loved you.

But he was no fool, you were a liar, a manipulator and a deceiver. Yet he loved you in the same way.

Therefore, he needed to test you before granting you the tiniest bit of freedom. Like, for example, the first time he took the chain off your neck and then left you alone in the bedroom 'forgetting' to check the door. When in fact he was sat outside the room just waiting for you to attempt to run away. But you remained inside for hours, and not once did you turn the doorknob.

At one point he let you go into the kitchen as you wanted to eat your meal and when he saw your handiwork he was stunned. A few weeks ago he lied saying he was allergic to a certain food but you didn't add it to his food claiming you didn't want to see him get sick.

Perhaps he was already sick in love with you.

Your touch, your caress, and even your kisses left him wanting more. His hands squeezed your breasts and then traveled down to your private area.

"W-Wait! I don't think... I'm r-ready for this yet."

"You've been telling me this for the fifth time now. I'm starting to feel like you're just winding me up." He'd been impatient for a while, and you only teased him with kisses and, in the end, stopped him before he got too far.

He didn't give you time to breathe as he dragged you in for another kiss. No longer would your hands be able to hold him. All the rough kisses and forbidden touches started to disgust you and left you wanting to scream. Then he started to lay you down and suddenly you felt the volume pressing up against your clothed area.

You couldn't allow that to happen without a fight.

"Ow! Was that because I touched you?" Wiping his lip, his finger touched a bit of blood. However, he noticed the way you tried to drag yourself out of the sheets. You were so cute, believing you'd get away with it just by sneaking around like a little mouse.

"Aren't you going to apologize? Love? Are you ignoring me?"

"..."

"Please don't..."

"Don't you love me? Maybe... this was all just you faking it?"

"What... No, you're mistaken! I just don't wanna do it!"

"You think I didn't notice? You don't like me and have been trying to manipulate me the whole time!"

No, you couldn't let the plan fail like that. Not when it was almost over.

"I love you, Theo! I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. Please believe me!"

"Lies... It's all lies. Maybe I should teach you so you never repeat it."

He freaked out out of nowhere as if he were a wild animal. Tearing your clothes, scratching your skin, and leaving you desperate.

Your attempts to cover yourself were shown to be failures. Your body started to get colder by the second and then realized you had nothing else on. Unlike Theo who was now removing his pants, revealing his swollen member covered by his underwear.

And another time, you tried to run away again but this time you were stopped by a strong pull on your scalp.

"Where do you think you're going, sneaking out like that?"

"Ah! Stop it, you're hurting me!"

"Oh? I am? Good then." Then he plunged your face into the pillow, catching you off guard. Bringing his hips closer to yours, you felt the tip of his cock caressing your entrance. Your screams, pleas, and cries came out incomprehensible through the pillow.

"Uh? What did you say? Do you want me to put it inside? With pleasure my love."

Suddenly it was like being ripped in half, he didn't care that you were dry inside and just shoved it all in at once. At this point you were starting to feel short of breath, maybe it would be better to pass out so you wouldn't have to remember this moment. But it seemed like that wasn't what Theo wanted. He pulled your body closer to his, everything was disgusting to you. His body heat, his possessive touch, and even his groans at being inside you.

"Oh~ So good. My love, can I move?"

"No- Ahh!"

"So warm..."

"No! No! No!! It hurts! It hurts so much! Please stop! Stop it!"

At first, he didn't move, letting you get used to his size. But you were mumbling for a considerable time, so he thought why not give you some pleasure? His hands went against your clitoris, giving small caresses.

He certainly found you adorable by the way you gasped in pain from his cock or refused to let him touch your pussy. It wasn't enough to stop him. And when you came on his dick after he played with your clitoris for minutes straight, he almost passed out with happiness.

Now that you weren't dry inside, he no longer saw any excuse not to fuck you. He turned you to face him with you covering your face from his while he penetrated you. At first, it was weak and slow, it was easy to suppress your moans but as time passed it became rough and fast.

Still, he wanted you to feel the same pleasure he felt. Did he think that a few kisses on the neck and face would solve everything? Nothing improved about the situation.

Most of the time you screamed, scratched his face, and then tried to crawl out of bed. All these attempts resulted in slaps or attempted suffocation.

Just attempts because he would never kill you.

It disgusted you as you felt his warm cum inside you. You could only think of taking the morning-after pill to avoid having a child, a baby that looked like him. All you wanted to do was close your eyes to forget everything, except you noticed his cock was still inside, giving you that uncomfortable feeling in your cervix. Panic was in your eyes as he began to thrust into you again. The smug smile on his face told you that it wasn't going to end any time soon, not when you'd kept him waiting for this moment for so long.

You can't remember when you slept. Even if your memories were messed up, your body would remember what happened. Though there was no stickiness between your legs, you could feel an immense pain from the waist down.

Trying to get out of bed felt like your whole body was under intense pressure, standing up and walking was difficult, but you managed to get in front of a mirror. So there you are, with your body full of bite marks, hickeys, and swollen eyes from all the crying you did last night.

Initially, you believed that he was just emotionally dependent and that you could play with his feelings as long as you didn't leave. However, in the end, he is just a disgusting monster who only takes what he wants in the end.

He didn't deserve to live.

You were going to kill him.

No, you needed to kill him.

The entire day you didn't say a word, nor did you dare get out of bed, hiding under the covers. It didn't matter if he called you, you wouldn't answer.

He didn't miss your bad mood. Theo thought he could cheer you up by treating you like a princess all day. After all, you'd given him immense pleasure last night, and for sure you were tired, so it would only be right to compensate you.

Kisses, affection, your favorite food and even all the attention in the world. At no point did he leave your side, even if you moved away or cried. All you said afterwards was "Leave me alone", which he didn't care about.

Perhaps at some point you freaked out and started throwing all kinds of objects at him to drive him away or break anything you saw in front of you.

"DON'T COME CLOSE TO ME!"

" Love, why don't you control yourself and give me that thing? You'll end up hurting yourself this way." He pointed at the sharp object in your hand, a few seconds earlier you had thrown a vase on the floor and ended up picking up the sharpest piece.

With each passing second, he approached you with a calm countenance, his hands outstretched for you to hand it to him. Glancing down at your palms, you noticed a burning sensation along with a thin line of blood. Then an idea flashed across your mind as you moved your hands closer to your neck.

"If you come any closer... I'll kill myself right here."

"Haha... How funny. Now quit joking and hand it to me."

"Do you really think I don't have the guts?"

"You wouldn't dare." His fear was palpable, you were someone unpredictable and therefore didn't know if you had the courage or not.

As soon as he saw the blade moving, his body acted on its own. His arm being cut off instead of your neck, preventing the blade from coming into contact with you.

He started to contain you by restraining your wrist in the hope that you would drop that sinful item, instead you fought back by kicking him right in the balls. Noticing that he'd dropped to his knees in pain, you didn't missed your chance and shoved the thing into his neck.

For the next few seconds, everything was a blur, Theo choking on his own blood as he tried to come to near you, as if the sight of you would make him less afraid of dying.

The gray carpet, red. Blood staining your feet along with the sounds incomprehensible and mumbling in the background. Neither the sound of your heart nor the cold pressure of the room consoled you at any time.

Yet you couldn't remain paralyzed at that moment, you needed to take action.

"Haha... How funny. Now quit joking and hand it to me."

"Do you really think I don't have the guts?"

"You wouldn't dare." His fear was palpable, you were someone unpredictable and therefore didn't know if you had the courage or not.

As soon as he saw the blade moving, his body acted on its own. His arm being cut off instead of your neck, preventing the blade from coming into contact with you.

For the next few seconds, everything was a blur, Theo choking on his own blood as he tried to come to near you, as if the sight of you would make him less afraid of dying. The gray carpet, red. Blood staining your feet along with the sounds incomprehensible and mumbling in the background. Neither the sound of your heart nor the cold pressure of the room consoled you at any time. Yet you couldn't remain paralyzed at that moment, you needed to do something.

One year has passed since his death. Everything seemed unreal and you often found yourself recalling that it had happened.

Fortunately, you weren't in your fertile period when having sex with him, so it turned out that you didn't get pregnant. One less problem.

Many people say that when a traumatic event occurs, the adrenaline and despair leave your mind cloudy and foggy, not letting you think about anything. But your action after killing someone had proved otherwise.

Your case ended up becoming famous on social media, mainly because of a phone call made by you. A phone call after you killed your kidnapper.

"Hello? This might be odd to say .... but I ended up killing someone... My kidnapper, Theo whatever his last name was.... Oh, I forgot to introduce myself, I'm [Name] [LastName]!"

You'd swear that 85% of your time was wasted watching edits of fictional characters with your audio, it was hilarious to see.

But even though it was possible to see your calmness at the time, your parents urged you to go to therapy, at first you tried but the mere fact that you kept returning to the same topic made you stop.

Taking that help would mean that Theo had impacted your life in a good or bad way and you'd rather die than admit that. In fact, it's him who's dead and not you, just thinking about it makes you laugh. At the end of the story, he'd lost and you were still alive, making a life for yourself.

Currently you were studying at the university of your dreams after passing a difficult exam. You had a big group of friends who all had the same acid humor. Also got a new pet, a super affectionate kitten called Merry. The first time you saw it, you almost died of cuteness.

Perhaps in the end you'll always have a good life while he rots in the ground.

#yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere #yandere fic #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere male oc #yandere male oc x reader

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lamemaster · 5 months

Text

Feast of Blades

TW: Blood, gore, torture (not much but mentioned)

Pairing: Sauron x Reader

Genre: Grim-dark fantasy

Summary: The world you fought to save, the world promised to both Men and Elves, was being stolen. The Firstborn, once allies, turned into conquerors, rewriting history with the ink of lies.

Chapters: 1/ ?

AN: Very cannon divergent do not read if you don't like that ;) (unreliable narrators are lingering in this fic)

Sweat stung your eyes as your body contorted under the invisible weight. A thousand searing blisters erupted across your skin, each one a tiny scream of pain. Your bones groaned in protest, threatening to shatter under the relentless pressure.

You could feel the claws of death prying you from the face of the Earth as it had done for all your ancestors. But you held on. You did not deserve to die yet. You will not accept whatever gift your creator held in the world beyond this one. Not until you had your revenge.

Gritting your teeth, you bowed your head, the unforgiving earth digging into your bloodied palms. "Give me the power," you rasped, your voice hoarse with agony. "One chance. Turn me into whatever they crave the most. Make me desired by their kind and I will be their perfect weapon. I will sow discord within their ranks, bring chaos to their kingdoms. Just… let me live."

A chilling laugh echoed through the cavernous hall. Though unseen, you felt the presence shift on its obsidian throne. "And why should I grant such a boon?" a voice like silk wrapped around razor blades slithered into the darkness. A hint of amusement danced around the edges of the question, offering a sliver of hope amidst the despair.

"Because I cannot die," you hissed, channeling your desperation into defiance. "Their kind fear oblivion, but I crave to destroy everything they hold dear. I need to live to repay the debt owed to my ancestors. I will burn their palaces to the ground, raze their cities to ash. Let them drown in their own fear! I cannot die, my Lord."

Sauron's chortle morphed into a chilling chuckle, the sound echoing through the cavernous hall. He leaned forward, the darkness swirling around him momentarily revealing a single, glowing red eye. The knowing glint in that eye confirmed your worst fears – he remembered you.

“My lord has chosen to side with the firstborn and so have I. What makes you believe that I, will help you human?” The eye narrowed in mirth.

"The Battle of Unnumbered Tears," you spat, your voice shaking with a mixture of defiance and desperation. "A victory for Men, but not without cost. It was your humiliation, wasn't it? For failing to see the treachery in the East. You still burn with that humiliation, Lord Mairon, don't you?"

A flicker of surprise crossed Sauron's face, quickly masked by a sardonic smile. "A clever ploy, mortal," he purred. "You play on old wounds, hoping to stir rebellion in a servant who has long since accepted his place. But tell me, what makes you think I would choose your fleeting rage over the power I wield at my Lord Melkor's side?"

"And you think," he continued, his voice a silken rasp, "that I, who bore the brunt of Melkor's wrath, would stoop to further your pathetic vendetta?" A flicker of something akin to amusement sparked in his gaze.

Decades. It had been decades since the world had shifted beneath your feet, leaving you scrambling for purchase on the treacherous slope of survival.

Back then, your face, unmarred by the lines of time and the etchings of despair, held the youthful confidence of a captain under Lord Ulfang. Hope, naive and bright, had fueled your journey West, following tales of a gleaming Elven prince who promised salvation for the East.

You had fought side-by-side with the Firstborn then, battling orcs, goblins, and the tide of darkness Melkor unleashed upon Middle-earth.

Wide-eyed and awestruck by the ethereal beauty of your allies, you truly believed in the stories of unity and coexistence. It was the only way, your elders had said, to secure a future for your people, to stave off the encroaching famine that gnawed at the very heart of the East.

But victory, fleeting and bittersweet, had turned to ash in your mouth. The celebrations around meager rations, a mockery of their triumph, were soon replaced by a chilling realization.

The world you fought to save, the world promised to both Men and Elves, was being stolen. The Firstborn, once allies, turned into conquerors, rewriting history with the ink of lies. The lie spread like wildfire. Treachery of the Easterlings, they called it, twisting narratives to absolve their own thirst for power. Your people, once allies, became the scapegoats in a matter of days.

The memory of Lord Ulfang's screams still echoed in the desolate chambers of your mind. Skinned alive in the cell that held you and 20 others. His body left in the cell until some in the desperation of hunger nibbled on stiff fingers.

"They hunted us," you spat, a feral snarl twisting your features. "Like deer in the twilight, they stalked our fields, their laughter echoing as they cut down our men. Our women, they did not kill, but worse. They violated them in the name of their twisted breeding programs, forcing them to bear a generation of half-elven slaves."

Your voice cracked, the memory a searing brand on your soul. "And now, they lord over the remnants of our people, herding us into gilded cages they call cities. The Children of Eru, they proclaim themselves! Eru who turned a deaf ear to our pleas, who allowed our homes to be burned and our families to be torn apart!" Fury choked your voice, tears welling in your eyes.

You slammed your fist against the cold stone floor, the sound echoing through the cavernous hall. "I want to burn his world! This song of creation, this symphony of suffering – I want to silence it all! Eru who favored the Firstborn and left us to bleed in the dust. He doesn't deserve this world, this song!"

Tears streamed down your face, a mixture of rage and despair. You lurched to your knees before Sauron's unseen throne. "I offer you more than just my mortality, Lord Mairon. I offer you my song, the song of a people wronged, a song fueled by fury. Take my life force, take my flame imperishable, and use it to forge a weapon that will shatter the foundations of Eru's creation! I offer chaos."

The coarse fabric of a cloak brushed against your cheek, the scent of pine needles and lavender filling your nostrils. A low murmur of Elvish, its melody both beautiful and alien, filled your ears. You squeezed your eyelids shut, feigning unconsciousness, as another voice, baritone and familiar, spoke.

"We couldn't just leave her there," it said, a hint of exasperation lacing the words. "Not with Lady Aeredhel being with us."

A heavy sigh followed, and you felt the soft press of a body settling beside you. The floor beneath you was cool and smooth, a stark contrast to the rough earth you were used to. "Is she another one of your rescues, Glorfindel?" the newcomer inquired, pronouncing the name with a touch of reverence.

Recognition jolted through you. Gondolin. Sauron had chosen Gondolin as your first target.

A cold certainty settled over you, replacing the flicker of doubt. His motives – the machinations of a fallen Maia – did not matter. All that mattered was the delicious sting of vengeance, the promise of seeing the world burn as brightly as the hatred that consumed you. You were a spark, a tiny ember, but fanned by the winds of your suffering, you would become an inferno.

Let Sauron play his games. Let him dangle the promise of power and destruction. You would use him, twist him to your will, until Gondolin lay in ruins and the Elven screams echoed through the halls of Eru himself. In the end, there would be only one victor: you.

Keeping your eyes squeezed shut, you strained to catch every murmur. Turgon's head. A monstrous image filled your mind's eye, a centerpiece for the feast you would prepare for Sauron. But the feast had to begin somewhere, and a wicked smile played on your lips beneath the mask of unconsciousness.

The House of the Golden Flower. The perfect place to start. Your "magnanimous rescuer," Glorfindel, would soon learn the true cost of his misplaced kindness.

A groan escaped your lips, weak and trembling. You cracked open an eye, feigning disorientation as you met the gaze of a golden-haired Elf, who peered at you with the lingering entitlement of a savior.

#silmarillion x reader #the silmarillion #sauron x reader #cannon divergence #angst #grim dark #glorfindel x reader #morally grey characters #unreliable narrators

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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 5 months

Text

Closed Position: Week 3 (Cha Cha Part 2)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition, Dancing with the Stars, would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble.

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on the show to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo.

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

Chapter Word Count: 17.6k

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence, past alcohol abuse, and past drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

👉 Chapter Warnings: Dieter being Dieter. Gratuitous use of the "f" word and talk about Dieter’s member. Cat and Plant dad Dieter cuteness. Brief mentions of intimate partner violence (more protective Dieter).

Chapter Quote: “I think I just became the bitch of a seven pound menace.”

Dieter’s POV

This week had been a fucking roller coaster. It started off with a bizarre production meeting with Stacia and Joe. I couldn’t believe they asked Kat and me to be flirty for the cameras, knowing she was engaged to someone else who is part of the cast. It was beyond inappropriate. Honestly, it pissed me off and I wasn’t OK with it. I didn’t like the position it would put her in.

They hadn’t been wrong about Kat standing out during the group performance. It was obvious to anyone who had eyes and I honestly felt proud of her. After the way Stacia had acted when I requested Kat as my partner, like she wasn’t that great of a dancer, it was almost like a big ‘fuck you’ to her. I loved every second of it and was feeling a little smug as they talked about putting Kat in the spotlight. It took everything in me not to rub it in.

The lunch with Kat that followed was an interesting experience. We really hadn’t got to spend a lot of time talking about things other than dancing up to this point. The lunch was a welcome break to have other conversations. I appreciated that she seemed interested in my hobbies. My plant hobby wasn’t something that I really got to discuss with people, so it was refreshing. I also got to learn about her plans for opening a dance studio after this season ends. I could tell she wasn’t looking forward to giving up competitions, but she seemed legitimately excited about her next steps. I was excited for her, and honestly, I couldn’t wait to see what she came up with. I knew whatever she did would be amazing.

During our first rehearsal for the Cha Cha, I found myself spiraling. Especially when we started putting the dance together. I knew the Latin dances had more of a flirty and sexual feel to them and I tried to mentally prepare myself for that ahead of time. However, I was not prepared for the way Kat was moving her hips, especially when she was doing it with her backside essentially rubbing up against my dick. When I told her I didn’t want to make an ass of myself, I was referring to the fact that it was taking everything in me to keep little bravo from standing at full attention and poking her from behind. I couldn’t focus and I couldn’t relax. It was literal torture. I was obviously going to have to figure out how to deal with that or we were going to have a problem going forward. I’m not even sure how I made it through rehearsals that day.

I was shocked when a text from Kat popped up on my phone later that evening. I was even more shocked when she said we were going to a Latin dance club. I tried to play it off with jokes, but internally I was falling apart. I spent the evening standing in my closet staring at my clothes. I had no fucking clue what to wear to a Latin dance club. I ended up texting my stylist around 10:30 PM, begging her to tell me what to wear. I was relieved when she said she would have a few things sent over the next day.

I had an appointment with my therapist very early the next morning. The first topic of the day was how things were going with Kat. I lied through my teeth, wanting to change the subject. I was not ready to unpack my feelings for Kat with Dr. Smith. Mostly because I was afraid of what she would have to say about it. I’m not sure Dr. Smith believed a word I said. She gave me a skeptical look when I changed the subject, but let me continue without coming back to that topic. I did notice her jotting down some notes though. I had a feeling it was going to come back to bite me later. I knew my feelings were wrong and that I shouldn’t be having them, but I couldn’t help it. I felt like it was out of my control at this point. I had tried so fucking hard to ignore it and I was still trying but failing. Some of it was physical, obviously, but the more time I spent with Kat the more I was drawn to her personality. I had never felt anything like this before and could not even begin to understand what it meant. I just wanted to pack it away and worry about it later.

I had a photo shoot with some fancy men’s fashion magazine after that. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure which one. It was the last thing I wanted to be doing, but I needed any job I could get. I still had to prove that I had my shit together and could show up and work without issue. It was also part of rehabilitating my image. The new and improved stylish Dieter Bravo. People in Hollywood talked, so it was important that I was present mentally and physically for this. I did my best to smile and be engaged with everyone, but it all felt forced. However, everyone seemed happy with the final product, so I took that as a win. At least it kept my mind distracted from what Kat and I were doing later.

When I got home, I found that my stylist had dropped off several items of clothing for our outing. I went with what looked the most comfortable. Luckily it was mostly light fabrics, so I wouldn’t burn up. I really only needed to change clothes since I had already showered, and my hair was styled from the shoot. That left me with an hour to do absolutely nothing except get myself worked up into a frenzy. The minutes were dragging on agonizingly slow, and my mind was already going to places that it shouldn’t be. I wondered what Kat would be wearing and if she was going to be moving the way she had been during rehearsals the day before. The thought of her rubbing up against me again was already making me hard.

I paced around my bedroom, begging my dick to calm the fuck down. Nothing was working. The only resolution I could come up with was to take care of it. I had been avoiding doing this because every time, my thoughts would wander to Kat. I didn’t want to think about her that way, worried that it would open up a door that I was frantically trying to hold closed.

I huffed out a quiet “fuck it” under my breath before quickly undressing and grabbing a t-shirt off the floor that I had slept in and crawled onto the bed. I found a bottle of lube in the nightstand drawer and went for it. I didn’t even try to keep the thoughts of Kat away this time - the way she would bite her lip and look at me through her lashes, the way it felt when she touched me while we were dancing, the way her hips moved. I imagined how she would look moving her hips like that on top of me and how fucking amazing she would feel wrapped around me. That was all it took to send me over the edge. I felt like a fucking teenager who was unable to control his load with how fast I came into my dirty t-shirt over the mental image of her writhing on top of me.

I laid there with my eyes closed for a few minutes, trying to come down from the high I was still riding, but the images and thoughts kept coming. I couldn’t stop them now. I wondered how she was when it came to sex. Would she prefer it to be slow and sensual or did she have a wild side? Something told me it was a little bit of both, and I was one hundred fucking percent on board with that. Within minutes, I was hard again. Jesus fucking Christ what is wrong with me? It had to be a new record because it never happened that quickly. Was it because I had been denying myself? Or was it because of Kat? Maybe both?

I looked at the clock, realizing I had to leave in 30 minutes. I sighed loudly, aware that this little problem wasn’t going away on its own. It was already almost painful. So, I went for round two and hoped that it got whatever the fuck this was out of my system.

Twenty minutes later I was a sweaty mess, standing in front of a fan trying to cool off after having one of the most intense orgasms I can recall having from masturbating. Then again, I had probably been too high in the past to remember the majority of them, so that didn’t say much. Once my heart rate calmed down, I moved to the bathroom and grabbed a towel to dry myself off some. I didn’t have time for a shower, so I threw on some more deodorant and cologne and hoped for the best. At least my hair still looked decent.

I somehow made it to the dance studio a few minutes early. I sat in the car waiting for Kat. I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes, feeling strangely calm and focused. I hoped I could maintain this mood for the rest of the evening - the rest of the week even. I just needed time to desensitize myself to the intimacy and close proximity that we were being forced into this week. Once I did that, I would be able to handle anything. I had to.

I was startled from my thoughts by Kat opening the passenger side door. She laughed loudly over my reaction and it was the most beautiful sound. I could listen to her laugh all day. Then I took in what she was wearing, a simple knee length black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. It was the sexiest thing I had ever seen, and she wasn’t even showing that much skin.

I appreciated that she thought to warn me about the bar during the drive to the club. Most people wouldn’t have considered that. I figured there would be alcohol and other substances floating around, but oddly enough, those things were not even on my radar. I wasn’t lying to her when I said it was a non-issue because I would be distracted. I just fibbed about what my distraction would be. My thoughts were only of her, and I knew they would be for the rest of the night.

The club was as expected, the same as any other. Kat wasted no time pulling me onto the dance floor. I was hesitant at first, worried about the possible involuntary reactions my dick might decide to have. Any hesitation I had dissipated when Kat grabbed my face and forced me to focus on her. There was something familiar about the way she was looking at me that I couldn’t place as she urged me to become one with her and the music - to relax and trust her. It drew me in, igniting that connection that we shared. The connection that I had been fighting so hard this week. After that, I was surprised to find that my worries ended up being a non-issue. I had to laugh to myself, realizing the only thing I had been needing to do was beat little Bravo into submission, for tonight at least.

The longer we danced, the more at ease I became. It felt like we were just two friends having a good time together. It seemed a little flirty, but that was the general atmosphere, and it came with this type of dancing. I knew that and tried not to dwell on it much. When Kat broke away and suggested a water break, I noticed she had an odd look on her face. I wanted to ask if something was wrong, but decided not to, figuring she was probably just tired. She had been going all day after all. She offered to go grab us some bottles of water. She didn’t have to say it, but I knew she was making an effort to keep me away from the bar, which I appreciated. The last thing I needed was to be photographed near one.

I was surprised when a few fans approached and asked for pictures while I waited for Kat to return. In the past, I had been kind of an asshole to fans, and I knew it. So, I tried to make it a good experience for them. They seemed just excited to see Kat when she joined us. They had actually been fun to talk to and it ended up being a humbling reminder that they were the reason I had the life that I did. It made me appreciate my choice to get sober even more.

Once Kat and I got back on the dance floor, I could feel something shifting between us. She had that familiar look on her face again and it was stirring something inside of me. After a few songs, it finally hit me. It was the same look she had in the video I had watched of her and Alec dancing. She never had it with any of her other partners from what I had seen.

This realization sent my mind spiraling. Now that I had picked up on it, I couldn’t stop looking at her eyes. There was fire blazing in them as she looked back at me, but there was something else there too. Conflict? Confusion? The intensity of it only seemed to increase the longer we went on. I could feel the air crackling between us so strongly that it was making me dizzy. I was almost afraid to think about it, but my gut told me that she was feeling something for me too.

When I playfully dipped her backward, I couldn’t help admiring her neck as her hair slid off it. For the first time, I dared to wonder what it would be like to kiss her there. As I pulled her upward, our eyes locked. I knew I should look away, but I couldn’t. She rested her forehead against mine as her hand gently caressed my cheek. I could feel her hot breath blowing over my lips as we lingered there. I really thought she was going to kiss me, until she suddenly turned to walk away. I didn’t want to let go, allowing my hands to trail down her body as she moved toward the edge of the dance floor. What the fuck just happened?

And just like that, the spell was broken. When she turned back toward me, she was smiling, but her eyes were guarded, and the fire was nearly extinguished. It wasn’t completely gone though, I could still see it simmering under whatever composure she thought she had gained. I gave her a big smile, relishing my new discovery.

I wasn’t surprised when she suggested we leave after that. The atmosphere of this place was chipping away at the thin wall that both of us had put up. If we stayed, that wall was going to crumble, fast.

I didn’t hesitate to take her hand as she led us out of the club. I was having sort of a “fuck it” moment and throwing caution to the wind when it came to touching her. I wasn’t even sure if I could stop myself at this point. We took a minute to take some selfies with fans on our way out. I kept at least one hand on her throughout that. The whole ride back to the studio I did manage to restrain myself since I had no reason to touch her while I was driving. I wanted more than anything to take her hand or rest mine on her thigh. I was dumbfounded by this sudden urge. It wasn’t one that I had before. I usually shied away from any type of physical touch unless I was having sex with someone. Even then, it wasn’t affectionate. It was for pleasure. Affection just wasn’t something I had had a lot of in my life and it wasn’t something I ever wanted. Until now.

When we got back to the studio and found Alec waiting outside, my stomach dropped. I had a really bad feeling about leaving Kat alone with him because he looked angry and a little inebriated. When she told me to go inside, I hesitated, but felt like I couldn’t just stand there. So, I went inside and got changed, realizing that I had left my sneakers in the car when I didn’t find them in my gym bag. At least I had a good excuse to go outside and make sure she was OK.

As I walked out the front entrance, my eyes immediately sought Kat out. My gaze found her just as Alec shoved her against the wall, causing her head to smack against the brick. I didn’t hesitate to go to her and shove him out of the way. I had never wanted to cause harm to someone so much in my life. It was taking everything in me not to crush his fucking face in with my bare hands, but Kat came first, and I needed to make sure she was unharmed. I’m sure my attentiveness to her only pissed Alec off further, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to bow down to his ego anymore.

I decided to try and diffuse the situation, for Kat’s sake, but that didn’t go as planned. I couldn’t say I was really surprised that Alec tried to hit me. I saw the look in his eyes and the way his hand balled up before he threw the punch. I was surprised by my reaction to it though. I’m pretty sure I closed my eyes as I flinched away from his fist, but somehow still managed to hit him pretty damn hard right in the nose. Hard enough that my hand was burning afterward. The satisfaction that I got from seeing his busted up face was well worth it.

When Alec called out for Kat to leave with him, I could feel every muscle in my body tense. There was no way I was letting her go. I couldn’t. I would hit him again before I let that happen. I was relieved when he didn’t try to fight it and left without further issue. As soon as he was safely out of our vicinity, I pulled Kat into a tight hug. I needed to check her over again - make sure she was really OK. Of course, she brushed away my concern in place of her own as she looked over my hand.

I realized she needed something else to focus on so that she didn’t fall apart. So, I let her take care of me. It didn’t stop me from looking her over again as she dug through the first aid kit. I could see her hands trembling as she rummaged around for supplies. Physically she seemed fine, but I knew her emotions were all over the place. I could tell she was in a fragile state, and it was breaking my heart. For the first time I noticed that this sweet and beautiful person was so fucking broken on the inside. She had done well to hide it, but the cracks were there, and I was finally seeing them. I wanted nothing more than to make her feel better and keep her safe. I wanted her to be mine and I wanted to take care of her the way she deserved.

I knew it was a bad idea to put my feelings out into the world right now, so I didn’t. I did, however, want her to know that I was here for her and that I was willing to help in any way she needed. It was all I could offer, but it seemed to be enough. For now. Even though I didn’t tell her how I felt about her, I did share what I thought about Alec. I could only hope she would consider my words and make the right choice for her own well being. I had already decided that I would be there for her through it, no matter what, I just hoped she would let me.

I spent all night tossing and turning, worried about whether Kat was safe. She had texted that she got home safely and was locked in, but that didn’t do anything to relieve my anxiety. I was up before my alarm went off the next morning, in a rush to get to the studio just so I could lay eyes on her. Then I realized me getting there sooner didn’t mean she would get there sooner. I grabbed my phone, found her name in my contacts, and typed out a quick text.

Me: Want me to pick you up some breakfast with your coffee? Muffin? Cheese Danish? Kit Kat? 😏 (smirk emoji).

It was my sneaky ass way of making sure she was OK without asking.

Kat: Again, I will never turn down food. Surprise me. No Kit Kats though. I’m banning them from the studio.

I chuckled. It seemed like she was back to her normal snarky self.

Me: ☹️☹️☹️ (three frowny face emojis)

Kat: OK. Fine. Just don’t let me SEE you eating them.

Kat: And Dieter…

Me: Yeah?

Kat: I’m OK. You could have just asked. Thank you though. 💜 (heart emoji)

Well, damn. She was onto me. Not that I minded. I kind of loved that she knew me well enough to know what I was up to.

Me: I didn’t want to be annoying about it. I’m happy you’re OK though. I was worried. Maybe I’ll actually get some sleep tonight…I’ll see you soon.

I hesitated before I hit send on that reply, but I wanted her to know how concerned I was and that I actually cared. At this point, I felt like I was mentally getting out a hammer and chisel, chipping away tiny pieces of wall between us. I wasn’t going to be able to keep all this in forever. Hell, before it’s over, I may end up busting through, Kool-Aid man style.

Once I gathered everything I needed for the day, I headed to the coffee shop, getting there in record time. I got Kat’s usual coffee order and added a blueberry scone. I was antsy, wanting to get the studio as soon as possible. I still needed to see her, to be sure. I knew the tightness in my chest wasn’t going to go away until I did.

I arrived at the studio twenty minutes early. I was surprised when I spotted Kat’s car in its usual spot. The space beside it was open, so I pulled in. Knowing it would be easier for me to keep an eye on things as we left later. My arms were full causing me to struggle to get inside the main entrance, but I managed without dropping anything. Kat laughed at my exasperated face once she noticed me trying to open the heavy studio doors. She ran over to help, giving me a warm smile as she took the drinks and food from my hands.

Kat sat everything down on a few chairs at the back of the room. I followed behind, eyeing her. I was relieved to see that she did seem to be OK, that was until she reached up to tie her hair back. After she finished, the wide neck of her top slid off of her shoulder, revealing bruises. I could feel my jaw tightening as I reached out to touch them.

Kat’s brow furrowed at my expression before looking down to where my fingertips softly grazed her discolored skin. She sighed, taking my hand in hers as she peered up at me, “I told you, I’m fine. I didn’t even notice it.”

I shook my head, feeling the rage simmering, then pulled her into a tight hug. “Please tell me you’re done with him,” I said into the top of her hair.

She hugged me around the waist, burying her face in my chest for a moment before she pulled back, inhaling a deep breath, “I had a ton of messages and missed calls from him when I got home last night. All full of apologies…he knows he fucked up.”

I tensed, not liking how this sounded.

“I texted him back…not ending things, but I did ask for space. I have a lot to think about and I can’t do that with him talking at me.”

I was hopeful that she would see what an asshole he was. She had to. She couldn’t continue like this.

“How are you feeling about things this morning?” I asked.

She gave me an apprehensive look.

“You know what, it’s not my business. I shouldn’t be asking.” I said before she could respond, suddenly feeling like I was prying. I didn’t want to do that. I moved to turn away from her, but then I felt her hand on my arm, “No, really…it’s OK. I don’t have anyone to talk to about it. Nobody knows about that side of him.”

She sighed, sat down, then ran her hands down her face. “Honestly, I’m just kind of numb. I really don’t feel anything. I should at least be angry, right? Is that bad?”

I sat down beside her. She reached for my injured hand and started rubbing her fingers over the knuckles with a lost look in her eyes. I watched her for a moment before I responded.

“Honestly, I think maybe you feel that way because you're avoiding dealing with it. Compartmentalizing it maybe? But I get the feeling it’s reaching a point where you can’t do that anymore.”

She pursed her lips and nodded. “I think maybe you might be right.”

Her eyes met mine with a sad smile on her lips, “The film crew will be here soon. I should try to cover this up. I don’t wanna give them gossip on a silver platter.”

She turned and reached for her gym bag, pulling out a smaller pouch full of makeup. I watched as she dabbed green, yellow, and purple color correctors on my knuckles then covered it with concealer, finishing with a setting spray. The discoloration and bruising were hardly noticeable now.

“Hopefully that will last long enough to get us through filming today. I’ll try to be careful and not rub it off while we’re dancing,” she said. Now turning her attention to the noticeable bruise on her shoulder. She started working to cover that as well, but struggled, not really able to see what she was doing. I reached out my hand, “Here, let me do that for you.” She sighed, but relented and handed me the color corrector palette she was holding.

I could feel her eyes on my face as I worked. My cheeks heated under her gaze as my heart pounded away in my chest. The static was crackling between us again, causing a few more chips to fall away from the wall between us. The moment felt incredibly intimate, and it only made me crave more. Once I was finished, she quietly thanked me and packed everything away out of sight.

We sat enjoying our coffee and breakfast as the camera crew started filing in with their equipment. A couple of the crew members got us mic'd up and started the interview right away while everything else was set up. Of course, they had questions about the sightings of us at the Latin club. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. Luckily, Kat handled those questions perfectly. I know I would have stumbled my way through them in a way that probably would have raised some eyebrows.

Overall, we were more relaxed during filming this week - actually laughing and having fun as we rehearsed. We had a moment where Kat accidentally kicked me in the shin while transitioning to a lift. I turned on the dramatics for it, whining and rubbing at the spot as if it had hurt badly. It really hadn’t, but I did enjoy getting her worked up over it. Once she realized I was messing with her, she lightly smacked my shoulder and called me a jerk before breaking into laughter. The crew got a good chuckle out of it, quickly catching onto my antics before Kat did. We pretty much had the routine down by the end of the day, which put us a little ahead of schedule. That took a lot of stress off us for the week, which I think helped with the playfulness between us.

The day was over before we knew it. Kat seemed to be in better spirits as she got into her car, smiling at me over the roof of it as she waved. Once she was safely on her way, I pulled out of the parking lot to head to the pet store…again. I had gone through several different brands of cat food over the last week. The Little Dude wasn’t having any of it. He only wanted Tuna. I found myself in the cat food aisle, staring at a wall of packages. They all looked the same to me. I sighed, feeling overwhelmed by the options and not knowing anything about cats. I finally settled on some meaty looking wet food and hoped for the best.

As soon as I got home, I found Little Dude waiting outside the sliding glass door in the kitchen. He was on a schedule now and wasn’t going to let me forget about it. I opened the door, allowing him to come sashaying into the kitchen to sit next to the island. Waiting and watching as I scooped some of the new canned food out onto a plate and presented it to him. He stood and tentatively sniffed the chunks, then took a few nibbles but decided against it. He sat back down and looked up at me, whipping his tail around.

“Still a no, huh?” I said to him. He meowed loudly back at me. I sighed heavily, “You know, considering you were on the streets not long ago, you’ve gotten awfully picky. I feel taken advantage of here…”

He meowed again. I rolled my eyes as I moved toward the pantry for another pouch of tuna. I tried mixing some of the juice in with the food and gave it back to him. He still wouldn’t touch it. So, I added a few chunks of tuna as a topping. He ate the tuna and left the rest of it, before plopping himself down on his haunches and staring at me for more.

I chuckled to myself, “I think I just became the bitch of a seven pound menace. Fine, Dude. You win. Here’s your damn tuna. We need to get this figured out though. I’m sure you're not getting all your nutrients from that.”

He meowed up at me happily as I added more tuna to the plate. Once he had his fill, he walked over and jumped up on the couch making himself at home. I scoffed, “Dude, come on. You smell like something out of Pet Semetary.” He had the audacity to start wallowing around on his back. I rolled my eyes as I made my way to the linen closet, pulling out a spare blanket. After moving back to the couch, I opened up the blanket and fluffed it out next to him. He wasted no time settling in, purring and making biscuits with his paws. I gave him some scratches behind the ears as he dozed off. It was clear to me now, this cat was obviously trying to move in. With a heavy sigh, I realized that I needed to get some cat stuff for the house if this was going to be a thing, but I wasn’t even sure where to start with that. It was just another thing to worry about, but I sort of didn’t mind. He was definitely growing on me, making the house feel less empty and me less alone.

Friday rehearsals went by in a blur. I arrived a few minutes early, finding Kat in the studio, ready to go. She seemed in good spirits as we joked through our morning coffee. Her twinkling laugh continued as we went through our stretch routine. I moaned and groaned through the torture while she bent my body to its limits, and I loved every fucking minute of it. I noticed that our new found comfort with each other had her leaning into me more. Her touches were more casual and relaxed. I couldn’t get enough of the feeling of her warmth against me or the brilliant smile on her face as she laughed at my ridiculousness. The hint of sadness that I noticed hidden in her eyes the last couple of days was nowhere in sight.

Once we moved into the routine, the air between us felt like it was crackling again. Heated glances and small smiles passed between us as we made it through the entirety of the dance several times without error. We were so in tune with each other now, dancing in silence as one. Moving effortlessly through the steps without any thought or hesitation from either of us. The world fell away at that moment. We could have been in the midst of a war zone, and I wouldn’t have noticed. All I saw was her. There was no question about it now, I definitely had feelings for her that were more than just physical attraction. I couldn’t keep denying it to myself.

Of course, Alec was technically still in the picture. Kat made a point to say that she hadn’t ended things with him. She had only asked for space. I was still determined not to put her in any type of compromising position. I had too much respect for her to do that, my own feelings be damned. I really needed to watch myself.

After a few hours, we finally took a break. I lay sprawled out on the floor, staring up at her as she drank from her water bottle. I could see the sweat running down her neck, disappearing in the hidden space between her breasts. I had to force my eyes upward to her face before little Bravo decided to wake up against my wishes.

When she finished, she turned to me, catching me staring. I didn’t even bother to look away. She gave me a shy smile as she sat down on the floor next to me.

“So, what are you up to this evening? More plant daddy responsibilities?”

I snorted, “Plant daddy? That’s one I haven’t heard before.”

Kat snickered before taking another sip of water.

“No, actually I need to go to the pet store…hey, do you know anything about cats?”

Her brow furrowed, “Is this some kind of weird joke that I’m about to walk into?”

I chuckled, “No, I’m serious. I’m talking about the feline kind. I’ve had this stray show up at my house and he won’t fucking leave. Somehow that’s turned into him becoming a roommate. I’m having issues finding food he’ll eat though. I also don’t know what sort of cat stuff I need if I bring him inside like he seems to want to do.”

She chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eye as she said, “So, you’re a cat daddy now, too?”

I shrugged with a smirk, “Yeah, I guess I’m trying to be.”

She had a look on her face that I couldn’t decipher before breaking into a smile.

“Yeah, I had cats growing up. They can be finicky and dramatic when it comes to food.”

I nodded, “Yeah, I’ve picked up on that...What should I do? Can you give me a list of stuff I need to get? I’ve never had a pet, so I have no idea where to start.”

Her face softened, “You’re going to the pet store after you leave here?”

I nodded, curious what her tone meant. She paused before answering, seeming somewhat hesitant at first, “I could go with you if you want?”

I felt one side of my lips tug upward, “That would be amazing, actually.”

Kat was true to her word. Once we finished rehearsal, she followed me to the pet store. Parking in the space next to mine and smiling as she exited her car. As she walked toward me, I realized it made me feel strangely giddy to be doing something like this with her.

She hooked her arm with mine as we walked toward the entrance. I could feel warmth spreading in my chest at her casual touches. I had to fight the smile tugging at my lips.

“So, what is your fur child actually eating?” She asked.

I grimaced, “Well, up until like a week or so ago, I assume whatever he could catch and kill. Honestly, he smells like something out of that Pet Semetary movie…which reminds me…have you ever given a cat a bath?”

It was her turn to grimace, “Are you insane? Cats usually don’t like water. There are professionals that will do that for you, ya know?”

I shook my head, “This kid is not used to people. I fear he wouldn’t be able to handle a grooming salon. At least not yet…”

She sighed, giving me a serious wide-eyed stare, “Fine, I’ll help you give the cat a bath…but if I die…I’m haunting your ass.”

I belly laughed at her response as we entered the store, which seemed to draw some eyes toward us. I dropped my head and moved toward the first aisle as Kat got a shopping cart.

“A cart, huh? How much of my money are you about to spend?”

She chuckled, “Hey, I’m just making recommendations. You do what you will with them.”

She pointed things out as we moved down the aisles, some of it just for fun, some of it was needed. I ended up splurging on a couple of robotic litter boxes and cat cave beds, bathing supplies, toys, a ridiculously massive cat tree, and a collar all before getting to the food. She was relentless with her teasing about my need to buy the most expensive thing on the shelf. I loved it when she teased me like this. It caused her eyes to light up in a way that made my heart race.

Once we got to the food aisle, she again asked what the cat was currently eating.

“The only thing I’ve been successful with so far is Tuna. I’ve gotten several different kinds of cat food, and he just turns his nose up to them.”

She stood staring down the aisle with too many options, scrunching up her nose before speaking again. “OK, so he likes fishy stuff. Have you tried dry food or wet food?”

She is too fucking adorable when she makes that face. My brows arched at her, “Both.”

Her lips set into a line, “Did you try salmon flavored?”

I scoffed, “I’m pretty sure I tried every flavor they have. They were all a no.”

Her brow furrowed as she looked up and down the aisle, thinking. Her eyes finally settled on a freezer at the far end, “Maybe he would prefer something a little fresher since he’s a hunter?”

My eyes widened, “I hope you don’t mean like…live rats or something. I’m not doing that.”

She snorted, “Noooo. Ugh, no. I would never suggest that. I meant raw food.”

My eyes widened, “Ohhh. I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe…I’m willing to give it a try.”

We made our way down to the freezer and she picked out a raw salmon food. It was small scoopable frozen nuggets full of organic ingredients. It honestly sounded better than the other stuff I had bought. At least I could pronounce everything on the label. I felt confident this might do the trick. It figures I would end up with a cat that had a taste for the fancy stuff.

As we walked down the last couple of aisles, I circled back to the bath conversation, “Sooo, were you serious about helping give the Little Dude a bath?”

She nodded with a smirk, “Yes, I meant every word I said.”

I chuckled, “You wanna come over tomorrow evening for that? I can get everything set up for him tonight. I’ll let him formally move in after he’s bathed.”

She made an annoyed face, “Tomorrow is spray tan day.”

I puffed air out through my cheeks. “I could get some of those long dish washing gloves, then we won’t get wet…and maybe protect us from being clawed to death too.”

She snorted, “That sounds like a plan.”

“I’ll make dinner. I have a feeling I’ll owe you by the time this is over...”

One of her brows ticked upward, “I know I said I would never say no to food, but…you’re gonna cook?”

I placed my hand on my chest, feigning offense. “Excuse me? I happen to be a very good cook. It’s another new hobby I’ve picked up since rehab. My stuff is better than any five star restaurant.”

The sound of her twinkling laugh filled my ears. “Riiiight. I’ll believe it when I see it,” she said between laughs.

I rolled my eyes and gave her a playful smile, “Fine. Be prepared to stick your foot in your mouth.”

Kat chuckled as we approached the checkout counter. We were surprised when the young lady behind the counter nervously asked if she could take a picture with us. We of course agreed and snapped a quick group selfie with the girl. We made small talk with her as she rang up my items. I explained how I had a new visitor show up and Kat was kind enough to show me what all I needed to buy, suddenly worried the girl might get the wrong idea about why we were there together. I had a feeling this would show up on social media at some point.

Kat helped me load everything into the back of my car before giving me a small smile and asking to let her know how the new food goes over with the Little Dude. I thanked her again with a cheesy grin before we both got into our vehicles and headed to our respective homes.

It was a little after 9PM and I was deep into cat tree assembly when I received a text from Kat asking how dinner went. I pursed my lips as my fingers hovered over the keypad. Instead of typing out a message, I hit the video call button. I almost thought she was going to send me to voicemail, but she finally answered, her eyes wide as they jumped around the screen. It looked like she was lying in bed in a dimly lit room. Her hair fell around her face in damp waves, like maybe she had just showered. She looked beautiful. It took me a few seconds too long to find my voice.

“Hey, sorry, are you in bed?” I finally managed to sputter out.

She smiled, “I’m in bed, but not sleeping. Just watching trashy TV and doom scrolling. How did the new food go?”

I smiled at the screen, “Amazing. He devoured it…didn’t even hesitate.”

She smiled back at me, “Good. Happy to hear it. What is he up to now?”

I huffed out a laugh, “Laying at the end of the sectional, silently judging me over my struggles to put this damn cat tree together. I swear you have to be a fucking engineer to figure it out.”

I turned on the front camera of my phone to show her the cat, stretched out on his stinky blanket at the end of the couch as he gave me that judgy stare. She laughed loudly.

“Oooh he’s pretty! He does look very judgy right now though.”

I switched the camera back to me, “This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen. Why are there so many parts?”

“Hey, you’re the one that had to get the biggest one they had in the store. Deal with the consequences. I told you that you should’ve just asked for the floor model that was already put together.”

“Ummm, no. I wasn’t about to buy something that’s had a million grubby little hands on it and who knows what else. Dude only gets the best…brand new out of the box.”

She rolled her eyes at me, “Did you try looking at the instructions? I know that’s hard for guys to do.”

I scoffed and rattled the paper in front of the camera, “Umm…excuse me? I have been looking at the instructions and they’re garbage. Do you SEE this? It’s literally really bad drawings with no words. I can’t tell the pieces apart. It’s bullshit.”

She let out a loud laugh at my dramatics, covering her mouth with her hand to try and hold it back. I loved seeing her like this. A small part of me wondered what it would be like to lay in bed with her, laughing at trashy TV shows while we were wrapped up in each other under the covers. I shook my head slightly to clear that thought.

“Is this your way of asking me to help you, without actually asking…out of fear of further judgment?”

I furrowed my brows and snorted, “I’m not afraid to ask. Judge me, I don’t care. I have no shame…but if you’re offering…”

“Send me a picture of the instructions. I’ll hold your hand through it.”

I rolled my eyes, “Oh yeah, thanks. You had to go and say it like that.”

I did send her the instructions and we spent the next hour and a half on facetime putting the cat tree together. She had my full attention every time she would pull up the drawings to look at them. Her face would scrunch up in the most adorable way as she tried to figure out the next steps. The only thing that could have made the day more perfect is if she had been here with me in person.

Once the tree was put together, we said goodnight. I noticed Kat lingered on the call for a moment before finally ending it. It caused my stomach to flip. I wished I knew what she was thinking. Is she feeling this too? Or am I just being delusional?

After getting Dude settled in the garage for the evening, I finally crawled into bed. I laid there thinking about what I should cook for dinner. I didn’t want to do anything too over the top, but I did want to impress her. Then I moved on to picturing her in my house, in my space. Us in my space together. It was almost overwhelming. Realizing how badly I wanted that almost scared me.

Sunday rehearsals flew by. We did the last of our fine tuning to the routine, running through it several times with the music track. We nailed it each time. The flirty aspect of the dance seemed to come to us easily now. There was no longer any lingering awkwardness between us. We were both comfortable and trusting of each other and having fun.

We ended up leaving rehearsals a little early to get over to Television City Studios for the cast spray tanning session. We were hoping to get finished quicker by getting there before everyone else. I also felt like Kat was trying to avoid Alec too, which gave me a surge of excitement. It gave me hope that she was possibly thinking about ending things with him for good.

After heading to our respective dressing rooms to get changed into our robes, we found each other again outside the large room used for the spray tan setup. To our surprise they were able to get us in quickly. Kat went in first, then they called me in several minutes later. After I was finished, I wandered back to my dressing room and changed into my gym shorts. I took a minute to dig around in my duffel bag for a t-shirt that I didn’t care for in case the spray tan rubbed off on it. There was no sense in ruining all of my shirts for this shit.

There was a quiet knock on the door, I moved to unlock and open it, assuming it was Kat. She stood there, eyes racking over me with a smirk on her face. I gave her a quick smile as I turned my attention back to my bag, “I’m almost ready…just trying to find a shirt that I don’t care to mess up.”

She came in and leaned against the countertop of the vanity, “No problem, take your time.” She sounded amused. I glanced up at her, she had her arms crossed over her chest as she watched me with one brow raised. “Is something funny?” I asked.

“Every time I come in here, you're half naked.”

I found the shirt I was looking for and pulled it out, standing to my full height to face her, “If that’s the case, why do you keep coming in here then?”

Her face reddened, “Touché. You got me there.”

I laughed, “Yeah, see how that works? I mean…it’s a dressing room. There’s bound to be various stages of undress happening. Don’t act so shocked. At least I have pants on this time.”

She rolled her eyes before looking away. I moved to put my shirt on, purposely taking my time to pull it down over my head. Just as I yanked it down over my face, I caught her eyes shifting away from me. She was definitely checking me out. I could see it in the flush of her cheeks. Well, that's interesting. Maybe she was feeling the spark between us just as much as I am. It doesn’t matter, Bravo. She’s technically still taken.

I turned to pile all of my junk back into my bag, pretending I hadn’t noticed her staring. She finally broke the silence, “So, what are you making me for dinner? I need to start preparing myself now if I’m to survive it.”

I scoffed, “Come on. Give me some credit. You should know by now that I excel in all my extracurricular activities.”

Her eyes widened briefly, a small smirk playing on her lips, “I won’t believe it until I have firsthand experience as proof.”

Are we still talking about cooking? I felt like this conversation had a double meaning. I gave her a cocky grin, “Then prepare yourself for the most…pleasurable…food experience of your life.”

She snorted out a laugh as she moved toward the door, “Right. We’ll see.” I grabbed my bag and followed behind her. Within minutes, I was in my car, driving toward my house with Kat following behind me. I tried not to think of what the evening held, but I knew I needed to behave myself. I had to keep reminding myself that I couldn’t cross any lines with her, no matter how badly I now realized I wanted to.

A short time later, I was keying into my front door with Kat standing close behind me, taking in her surroundings. I was suddenly nervous for her to see my home. It made me feel naked in a different kind of way that I wasn’t prepared for. She would be seeing pieces of me that no one outside of my very small inner circle had. I would be opening myself up to her in a very raw and unfiltered way and I worried she wouldn’t like what she found.

We were both quiet as she entered the living room. There was a small smile playing on her lips as she slowly walked around the space, running her hands over things as she went. Stopping to look at books and little knick-knacks I had sitting around from my travels. My stomach quickly rose to my throat when she focused on the paintings hanging on the walls. There were several duotone abstract pieces I had painted throughout my early days of recovery - visual representations of where I was emotionally at the time I painted them. I had hung them to remind myself of my progress. She spent a lot more time looking at these than anything else, raising her hand to touch the one closest to her.

“These are amazing,” she said quietly, almost to herself.

I could hear my heart pounding in my ears as I watched her fingers drop down to the rounded DB initials in the bottom right corner. Her eyes suddenly widening as realization set in. She turned to me, her face now lit up in a way I had never seen. Her eyes were sparkling with wonder as she peered up at me. “Dieter…d-did you paint these?”

I nodded shyly. I couldn’t speak, afraid that my emotions would reveal themselves to her. It meant more to me than I expected that she liked them. Now realizing that her opinion was the only one that ever really mattered to me.

She smiled, “Well…I guess you do seem to excel in your extracurriculars. I can’t wait to see what else you have up your sleeve.”

I smirked at her, swiping my thumb across my lip before speaking. “Hmm, well…I’ll have your mouth watering within the hour. You wanna help me get started?”

One of her brows twitched upward, “I’d be happy to.”

I led her to the kitchen and began pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator and pantry. She stood nearby, taking everything in.

“I’m actually a little jealous of your kitchen. This is nice and so are all your gadgets.”

I chuckled, “I do spend a lot of time in here. A fancy kitchen was one of my requirements when I moved.”

She nodded, then pointed at the speaker on the counter. “Do you usually play music while you cook?”

“Yeah, you wanna turn something on?”

“Sure, it’s almost too quiet in here. I like a little background noise.”

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened up the music streaming app - hitting play on whatever playlist was already queued up. A soulful blues song started emitting from the speaker. Kat smiled and nodded in approval. I went back to pulling out the rest of the ingredients, piling everything that needed chopping near the cutting board on the island then grabbed two knives from the drawer.

“Can you handle chopping the veggies? It’ll make this go a lot faster.”

She nodded, then took one of the knives and got to work chopping the mushrooms that I sat in front of her. We worked side-by-side in silence for a few minutes. My mind wandered to thoughts of how domesticated this felt. I liked it…too much.

My attention was suddenly drawn back to Kat as her hips started moving to the rhythm of the music. Fuck, that’s distracting. I placed my hand on the small of her back, causing her to pause and look up at me, “You’re gonna chop a finger off moving around like that.”

The side of her lip tugged upward as she peered at me through her lashes, “Don’t worry…I’m a pro at my extracurriculars too. I can do a lotta things with my hands while my hips are moving.”

I sucked in a sharp breath at her words, my mind started running through all the possibilities behind them and none of it was wholesome. I finally managed to choke out a laugh, before going back to chopping the celery I had started on. Kat continued moving to the music beside me, humming along with the chorus. Fucking hell, I’m gonna chop my own finger off if I don’t watch it. The next song started playing. I was too distracted by Kat’s rolling hips and my thoughts that I didn’t realize what it was until the chorus hit.

Fuck me like you mean it / Make me believe it / Walk the wire, it's alright / Love me like you need it / 'Cause I can feel it / Take it higher, show me why

The knife in my hand clattered down onto the cutting board, I was slightly mortified.

Kat’s movements paused, “Well, I didn’t see that coming…that's a little dirty...” She snickered.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize what song this was…. I’ll change it.”

Kat placed her hand on my forearm as I turned to grab my phone, “No, I actually kind of like his sound. Leave it.”

Her hip movements continued as I switched to chopping the carrots and her the tomatoes. I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take. I stood there willing my dick not to get hard. Luckily, I got through the carrots quickly, and took the opportunity to turn my back to her. Moving on to peel and cut an onion under the cold water from the faucet. Which is probably just as well, because another song by the same artist came on that was sending my mind straight to the gutter. It felt like a playlist straight from my debauched thoughts.

Hypnotic lover taking over my mind / Your spell is binding, makes it so hard to fight / She twists her hips and keeps it coming all night / I can't control myself, that girl is so fine

Thankfully we finished with all the vegetable cutting soon after that. I moved on to preparing the pork and getting the frying pan and oil up to temperature. I was happy to have something that required my focus. Kat appeared, leaning against the counter next to the stove, watching me intently.

“So, are you ever gonna tell me what you’re cooking?”

I smirked, “Pork cacciatore.”

She gave me a deadpan stare, “You do know I’m a vegetarian, right?”

I was briefly hit with a streak of panic, before I realized she was messing with me. She had eaten a steak burrito in front of me, twice. I let out a dramatic sigh then smiled, “I guess I’ll be eating alone then. Oh well, more for me.”

She laughed as she playfully smacked my shoulder. I moved in front of her, placing my hand on her hip to scoot her out of the way as I reached above her head to get into the cabinet that housed all the spices. I muttered a quiet “excuse me” as I glanced down at her eyes that were looking up at me through her lashes. She didn’t really move. Instead, she stayed pinned between me and the counter. I could hear the faint sound of her breath hitching at my proximity. I smirked, then turned my attention back to the cabinet, pulling out the dried rosemary, oregano, and basil before finally removing my hand from her hip and stepping back to the stove. I could feel her eyes on me the entire time.

As I started mixing in all the ingredients to simmer, she leaned down on her elbows and inhaled deeply, “Mmm…you were right. My mouth is watering. This smells amazing.”

I gave her a cocky smile, “I told you….and it tastes better than it smells. It’s like an orgasm for your taste buds.”

Shit. I probably shouldn’t have said that. My mouth got ahead of my brain. Her tinkling laugh filled my ears, “That’s a lot of confidence you’ve got in your cooking skills, Bravo.”

I shrugged, “I promised you a pleasurable experience. I’m just delivering on my word.”

Fucking hell, I’m being ridiculous and getting out of line. Reel it in, Bravo!

She didn’t seem phased by my comments, if anything it felt like she was enjoying the banter.

We soon sat down at the dinner table, which I couldn’t recall ever actually sitting at to eat. Kat proceeded to moan through several bites and gush about how delicious it was. I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. It made me feel almost giddy that she enjoyed it. Our conversation flowed easily, as we talked about different things. Getting to know each other a little more and slowly chipping away at that imaginary wall that separated us.

“I’m just gonna start coming over here for dinner every night. My cooking can’t compete with this,” she finally said with a joking tone as she scooped that last bite off her plate.

I gave her a toothy grin, “I’ll cook for you anytime you want me to.”

She laughed, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

I laughed it off, but she had no idea how fucking serious I was. I would cook for her every night of forever if she’d let me.

After several minutes of Kat fussing over helping with the dishes, I finally convinced her to let it be. I had a housekeeper that would take care of it in the morning, so it really wasn’t that big of a deal. We decided to take our chances by giving the Little Dude a bath after that. I led her out to the garage which was still a mess with boxes, but Dude didn’t seem to mind it. He had turned it into his own personal playground.

I had set up everything we would need for a bath next to the utility sink so we could get right to it. Kat grabbed one of the towels and laid it out on the counter and got the brushes ready, saying we should brush out all the mats first. As she was explaining the steps we should take, Little Dude decided to make his presence known. He came strutting out from somewhere in his box fort to meow out me. He then proceeded to rub up against Kat’s legs. She giggled at him, bending down to pick him up.

“Ooof, he is rank,” she said through a chuckle.

“I told you. I swear he rolled in something dead.”

She grimaced, moving him away from her body to sit him on the counter.

“He’s really pretty though. He seems young. Have you taken him to the vet yet?”

“Not yet. I’m working up to it. I didn’t wanna stress him out too much all at once…though…he seems strangely fine with everything. He’s the one that wants to move in,” I said - laughing quietly to myself over the absurdity of it.

Kat began to look him over, “He has some pretty bad mats under his arms, we may have to cut those. Do you have scissors? They aren’t too close to the skin, so I think I can cut them easily enough.”

“Uhh, yeah. I have a whole clipper kit with scissors. I’ll go get it.”

I ran to get the kit and was back within minutes to find Little Dude sprawled out on his back while Kat brushed at the hair on his stomach. He seemed to love the attention. I stood next to Kat, keeping him distracted with pets while she worked. She ended up cutting a lot of the mats out just to save time. After several minutes had passed, she turned to me, a concerned look on her face.

“What? Is something wrong?” I asked.

“I would say so. We have a major problem here.”

My stomach was suddenly in my throat. My mind now conjuring up the worst things, “What is it?”

She fought to hold back a laugh, “Dude is not a dude.”

My brow furrowed, “What do you mean?”

She snorted, “There is no twig and berries down there. Dude is a Dudette.”

“Seriously? You’re joking?”

“Nope. Did you even check?”

“Do you see how much hair she has? I was just guessing. I couldn’t tell. It makes sense why she wouldn’t leave though…chics do love me.”

Kat snorted again, “Staaap. You’re so ridiculous.”

I chuckled, “At least now I know why I was getting the judgy looks.”

“Well, now you need to give her a proper name. Something cute…that is not Dudette.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ll have to think about it. Damn.”

After a brief pause to laugh about our discovery. We continued. Luckily the cat’s top half wasn’t as bad, so Kat made quick work of it. Then we took a minute to prepare ourselves for the chaos of the bath. Strategizing on the best way to handle it if she freaked out. It turns out, we didn’t even need to do that. The cat apparently loved water, which blew our minds. She sat still, enjoying the massage we gave her as we worked the shampoo into her fur. She nearly fell asleep as I used the spray head to rinse her, occasionally pointing the stream in Kat’s direction just to be obnoxious. After reminding me that we had just gotten a spray tan, I stopped. She said I wouldn’t be able to endure her wrath if I made her streaky.

Once we got the Little Dudette clean and dry, I picked her up and brought her inside. I took a minute to show her where the litter boxes were, her beds, and her new cat tree. I sat her at the top of the cat tree, and she immediately began exploring it. Kat and I watched her for a few minutes, before Kat looked around the room.

“Hmmm…the plants could be an issue. I know some are poisonous to cats.”

My eyes widened. I hadn’t even thought about that. Damn I already suck at this cat dad stuff.

Kat pulled out her phone and found a list of toxic plants and let me look over it. I sucked air through my teeth, then moved to pick up the Aloe plant sitting on the end table, “Sorry Barb. Looks like you’re gonna be banished to the art studio.” I handed it to Kat, “Please hold Barb for a moment.”

She started laughing at me. I turned to grab the Cutleaf Philodendron that was sitting in the dining room. “You’re out too, Cutlet,” I said as I picked up the medium sized tropical plant.

“Follow me. We’ll put these away in another room.”

As we made our way through the house, I grabbed another Aloe plant that was sitting on a bookshelf. “Sorry, you’re out too, Spike.”

I could hear Kat snickering behind me as we ascended the stairs. Once we reached the door to my studio, I juggled the plants in my arms to turn the knob. I suddenly felt nervous for Kat to be in the space, but tried not to dwell on it as I pushed the door open with my foot. She followed me inside and set Barb down on the window sill next to Spike. I set Cutlet down on the desk. I’d have to find a spot for him later.

I could tell Kat wanted to explore the room, but she held back, shyly looking down at the ground instead. I was sure she could sense this was an extremely personal space for me and didn’t want to intrude.

“You can look around if you want.” I finally mustered up the courage to say. I trusted her enough to share this side of myself. Not many people got to see it.

Her eyes lit up with excitement, “Are you sure? I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

I nodded and gave her a small smile. Standing back to watch as she walked around the room looking at the various paintings leaned against the walls. Her eyes roamed over every surface, pausing to spend extra time on the sketches spread out on the tables and desk.

I hadn’t spent any time in this room since rehearsals started. I hadn’t had the time, and when I did, I was too tired. However, I suddenly had that nagging need to. There were images swirling in my head that I needed to get out onto a canvas. I was shocked to find they were colorful shades of purple and blue with hints of magenta. There was no black in sight. I knew the cause of the shift, it was Kat. She was my new muse. Replacing the self-hatred and unhappiness with her light. I wanted to paint her dancing with the fire in her eyes. I wanted to sketch all of my favorite parts of her - her lips, her eyes, the curve of her hips.

Seeing her in my home and how easily she could fit into my life was making me want things I never thought I would. I wanted her to be part of everything. My other half. I wanted to share my existence with her. Then reality set in. She still belongs to someone else, Bravo. Stop thinking like this.

I shook my head to clear it as she looked my way with a smile. I tried to return it, but it didn’t reach my eyes. She walked toward me, “Dieter, all of this is amazing. I-I don’t have any words. You’re so talented.”

My brow furrowed, I was suddenly feeling emotional. I murmured a quiet “thanks” to her as she turned to look around the room one last time before turning back to me, “Would you paint something…for me? I would love to have one.”

I gave her a genuine smile now, “Of course. I think I already have an idea for something.”

Our gazes locked for a moment, something unsaid lingering between us, but it passed. I motioned toward the door, “Well, would you like a tour of the rest of the place? I have a feeling you might enjoy my other sanctuary.”

She gave me a quizzical look, “Lead the way. You have me intrigued now.”

I snickered as we walked into the hallway and closed the door behind us. I led Kat down the hall to the room where I did everything else - music, reading, writing. It really was my other sanctuary. It was a large open room with glass doors that opened to the balcony overlooking the ocean. The espresso colored hardwood was covered by a deep navy and maroon Persian area rug. Floor to ceiling shelves lined one cream colored wall, full of books and scripts. Two leather chairs sat in one corner with two acoustic guitars perched on stands between them. Several other guitars hung on the wall nearby. Another wall of shelves housed my record collection. The old record player stood next to it, connected to vintage floor speakers. An espresso colored wicker hanging chair with a white cushion hung from the ceiling in the corner near the record player. An extra large white furry beanbag sat nearby, with a few deep yellow throw pillows on it. There were plants everywhere - large potted ones sitting on the floor, vines hanging from the ceiling, small succulents scattered throughout the shelves. A small writing desk sat against the wall next to the balcony doors. The few open spaces on the wall were home to more of my paintings. The center of the room was completely open. Aside from my studio, it was my favorite place to be.

When I opened the door and motioned for Kat to enter, her face shifted. A hint of a smile ghosted her lips as her eyes rounded and sparkled. She stood in the center of the room turning in a slow circle, taking in the space.

“Dieter…you’re right. I love this. Everything about it is perfect.”

She walked over to one of the paintings, an abstract sunset of black, deep blue, red, and yellow. It was a more recent one, not as dark as the ones downstairs. Her fingers grazed over the DB scrawled in the bottom corner. One side of her lip turned upward once she realized it was another one of my paintings. She turned, moving back toward the center of the room and spun around with her arms out.

“This room is huge…big enough we could rehearse in here.”

My teeth sunk into my bottom lip, biting back a smile. I loved that the thought had crossed her mind. That she wanted to be in this space with me.

“We could. There’s a lot of open space. I left it like that so I could come in here and paint if I wanted. Depending on the time of day, the lighting can be better here than in the studio. Plus, I can open the doors and hear the ocean. It’s soothing.”

She nodded, a pensive look on her face as she continued looking around the room.

“I take it you probably didn’t expect all this, huh?”

She shook her head as her brows pinched together, “No, honestly. I’m not sure what I expected, but strangely enough, I’m not surprised. I know you're not shallow and emotionless like the tabloids often make you out to be.”

She was standing in front of me now, her eyes roaming my face. “I see you, Dieter. I know you feel things deeply…even if you don’t always admit to it. So, it doesn’t surprise me that this is how you spend your time. Us tortured souls have to get the feelings out somehow.”

I couldn’t breathe. The way she was looking at me literally took my breath away. I knew without a doubt that she meant what she said. She did understand me better than anyone ever had because we were the same in a lot of ways, but complete opposites in others. We balanced each other out and fit together in a way that filled in each other's gaps to make a whole. We were meant to find each other, I could feel it in my bones. If only she could see that and finally get rid of the disease in her life that was Alec.

Kat’s face turned almost wistful as she stared at me for a beat. Finally turning away and moving toward the leather chairs in the corner and sitting down. She turned, eyeing the acoustic guitars sitting next to her.

She pointed, “Are these for decoration or do you actually play?”

I shrugged, “I guess you can call it that…I had to learn for a role many years ago. It kind of stayed with me after that.”

She raised a brow in my direction as her hand slid around the neck of the nearest instrument, “Do you mind…” she asked, pausing for my response.

Curious where this was going, I shook my head. “No, I don’t. Have at it.”

The way she handled it told me this was something she was familiar with. I could hear the blood pumping in my ears from excitement at the thought that she might play something. I shuffled over to sit in the seat next to her and picked up the other instrument as her fingers slid over the strings, like she was getting a feel for it. I bit back the anxious feeling that was forming in my chest and started plucking at the strings on the guitar I had just picked up. Playing chords for the first song that came to mind.

Kat watched me for a moment. Her eyes narrowed at my hands, “I know this song…”

I smiled up at her as she hummed along for a few seconds, trying to place it. She surprised me when she started to sing along.

She's the place I go / When there's nowhere left to run to / She's the one I hold / When there's no one to hold on to

I was awed by her. Her voice was amazing - soulful, velvety, and pure. She was so fucking beautiful it hurt. The moment caused something to swell inside of me, making me emotional. I had to take a deep breath to fight it back as I watched her place her fingers on the frets and start strumming along with me. She continued singing the chorus. Without thinking, I joined in, which elicited a brilliant smile from her.

She's been with me late at night / When I was drowning in the dark / She heard my every word / When I was pouring out my heart / So I thank my lucky stars / For every crack, scratch, and scar on this guitar

Our voices harmonized together perfectly, causing goosebumps to break out across my body. I suddenly felt connected to her in a way that I hadn’t before. I picked up the next verse as she continued playing with me.

She's given me her best / When I am at my worst / When I can't find the pieces / Fingers scratching in the dirt / She offers no forgiveness / 'Cause she likes to make it hurt

Her eyes stayed on mine. I could see the fire blazing in them again. I couldn’t help smiling as the words passed through my lips. She returned it as she joined back in for the chorus. We finished the reminder of the song with a flourish, breaking into laughter when it was done.

Once the laughter settled, I finally asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you played? And can sing for that matter?”

She shrugged, “It’s not really something I do a lot of anymore…Not since my dad passed. He taught me to play when I was younger…before things got bad with him. We picked it up again after he was sober.”

A sad smile formed on her lips, “He had a few friends he would play with on the weekends…pickin' and grinnin' is what they called it. Just a bunch of friends and their families hanging out in someone's backyard, having fun. I learned a lot from them.”

I had a sudden urge to hug her, but then the sparkle from that damn engagement ring on her finger caught my attention for the first time that evening. It was a stark contrast against the black bout of the guitar, silently screaming a reminder that she was still with the asshole. It broke through the delusional thoughts that had started to swirl around in my head the last few minutes.

I cleared my throat, “Well, you’re really good. I didn’t see that coming.”

She gave me a genuine smile now, “You’re not so bad yourself. Still excelling in all areas apparently.”

I had the sudden need to be away from her. I was feeling overwhelmed by my conflicting feelings. I glanced down at my watch, “Hmm…it’s getting late. We should probably call it a night. I don’t wanna be your excuse for being tired tomorrow.” I let out a nervous laugh.

She looked at her watch, “Oh damn. Yeah, it is…and I still have a 30 minute drive home.”

An awkward tension settled in the air as I placed the guitars back on their stands. We walked in silence down the stairs. Kat took a minute to give the kitty some scratches before collecting her purse and phone to leave. I asked her to let me know when she made it home as she leaned in for a side hug.

“I will…and thanks for dinner. It was amazing.”

When she pulled away, her hand lingered at my waist. She smiled before finally turning to walk toward her car. I kept an eye on her until she was locked inside and backing out of the driveway. This was getting to be too fucking hard.

I sighed, walking through the house to turn everything off and lock up for the night. The cat followed behind me every step of the way. Once I got settled in the bed, I felt her jump onto the mattress. She tentatively walked over and climbed up on my chest, purring into my hand as I scratched behind her ears.

“Maybe you're meant to be the only woman in my life. I should probably accept that and move on.”

Her eyes drooped under my touch. A quiet meow squeaked out in response. “I guess I should give you a proper name now, because Dude is not gonna cut it.”

I thought for a minute. A plant name might be cute, right? “How about poppy? Ehh, no. That might raise some eyebrows given who your dad is. Let’s avoid drug references…”

I laughed to myself. It was so ridiculous that I had to think about stuff like that.

“Hmm, how about Rosie? Na…that’s too girly. You’re kind of a bad ass critter catcher.”

She meowed loudly, almost like she was agreeing with me. I chuckled. “I’ve got it. Zinnia. Zee for short. That’s cool, right?”

She was asleep now. She could have cared less. “Zee it is. Zee my little warrior queen.”

I got a text from Kat a few minutes later, letting me know she got home. I sent her a thumbs up emoji then set the phone on its docking station for the night. I somehow managed to drift off to sleep.

I was woken up about ten minutes before my alarm went off by Zee, making biscuits in the crook of my arm and purring. I couldn’t even be upset about it because it was too fucking cute. This cat was already making me melt and had me wrapped around her paw. I nuzzled my face into her fur, she smelled so much better. It was nice to finally have her properly clean so I could cuddle her without being grossed out. I don’t know why I fought against having her for so long. It felt nice to have another living being in the house with me.

I finally rolled out of bed and took a quick shower. It was show day, so I couldn’t be dicking around this morning. I threw on clean shorts and a t-shirt, then headed out. I stopped to get our usual cups of coffee before heading to Television City Studios. Kat and I were one of the first groups there, determined to get the rough run through out of the way.

Kat was already chatting with the band when I walked in and handed her coffee over. We went through the routine a few times to get the camera blocking out of the way and gave feedback on the music. The other couples had started to filter in by the time we were on our last run through. I could see Alec sitting, waiting for his and Lana’s turn. I hadn’t seen him since the incident, so I wasn’t sure what the damage was. His face was pretty bruised up around the nose and under the eyes. I had to hold back the satisfied smile that was tugging at my lips as we walked by him.

Kat did take a minute to add some makeup to my knuckles. They were still a little bruised. We didn’t want the cast to see it if we could help it. After she finished, we headed into hair and makeup to get slathered in more makeup and hair gel.

Kat and I were seated next to each other again. We chatted with each other while they worked on us. I told her what I decided to name the cat. She laughed at first but wasn’t at all surprised that it was the name of a plant. She finally relented, admitting that it was cute and giving her seal of approval.

About 30 minutes after sitting down in the makeup chair, Anika approached me. She had a shy, but flirty smile on her face as she leaned against the vanity in front of my seat and purred out a “good morning.”

I smiled at her awkwardly, unsure of what was happening. Anika glanced toward Kat, then turned so that her back was toward her.

“What are you doing after the show tonight?” she finally asked.

I shrugged, “I don’t know yet. I suppose it depends on how tired I am.”

She laughed like I had just told the most hilarious joke. I now realized what was happening. Fucking hell. Please don’t do it.

Her hand rested on my knee, “How about we go out for drinks after? Maybe we can hang out for a bit.” She gave a suggestive squeeze with her fingers as she spoke.

I could tell from my reflection that I had the deer in headlights look. My brain completely shut down. I was not interested in the least. “Umm, I dunno. I really need to get home…and feed my cat.”

“Oh, come on, just one drink. You can do that after.”

It was Kat who responded with an agitated tone, “You do realize he’s sober, right?”

Anika looked surprised, then laughed nervously. “Well in that case, you can just watch me drink. You don’t have to have anything with alcohol.”

I sat there with my mouth agape, not really sure how to respond to that. I couldn’t stop anyone from drinking around me, but damn. If she was trying to win me over, that was not the way to do it.

“Are you a fucking idiot? He’s sober. He doesn’t wanna be around alcohol.” Kat was having none of this from her.

Anika huffed, “I don’t think I asked you, Katarina. Mind your business. Shouldn’t you be worried about what your own man is up to?”

I realized the ladies that had been doing our hair and makeup had stepped back. Kat looked like she was about to come up out of her seat after this girl. I cleared my throat, “Ummm thanks for the offer, Anika…but I think I’ll pass. Maybe another time?” I said nervously.

She gave me a disappointed look before flipping Kat off and walking out of the room.

Kat puffed air out of her cheeks, “Ugh, I fucking hate that girl.”

The ladies who were working on us snickered before continuing with their task.

I glanced over at Kat, “Thank you for that. I wasn’t really sure how to handle it.”

“Well, you better figure it out, because I’m sure she’s not done asking. Unless you wanna go out with her, of course.” Her tone was very clipped, and I wasn’t sure why. It surprised me. Did I do something wrong?

Kat was quieter after that, seemingly lost in her thoughts. I wasn’t sure how to handle it. It was making me feel off. I was happy when hair and makeup had finished with me. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I made a beeline for my dressing room to get changed into my costume. I didn’t hear from Kat for a while, assuming they had dress rehearsals for the group performances.

While I waited, I texted my assistant and asked him to bring me some brunch to pass the time. It was a little early for lunch, but I was already starving. A few minutes after he dropped off the food, I got a text from Kat, asking where I was.

Me: In my dressing room. I have 🌯🌯🌯. (three burrito emojis)

It wasn’t even a full minute before there was a knock on the door.

“Come in.” I managed to garble out through a mouth full of steak goodness. Kat pushed the door open, standing there with a disapproving look and her hands on her hips.

“You're hiding away to eat burritos? Really?”

My ability to speak left me as soon as I laid eyes on her. The only response I could muster was to hold out the extra burrito I had gotten for her. She looked fucking amazing in her costume. The hem was asymmetrical, showing off her toned legs. The shorter side revealed her entire right thigh. The front was lower cut than I had expected, showing the curve of her breast. From the sketches, I knew the back was non-existent. There was only enough of the fringy fabric to cover her ass. They had left her chestnut hair half down this time. The front of it was pinned back leaving the soft curls cascading down around her bare shoulders. The red shade of the dress, if you could even call it that, looked amazing against her golden skin and made her red lips pop. All of the exposed flesh definitely had little Bravo’s attention. It took everything in me to refocus my thoughts and get him under control.

She raised a questioning brow at me, a smirk forming on her lips as she took the burrito, “You OK, Bravo?”

I nodded as I swallowed down the food I had been chewing even though I wasn’t ready, nearly getting choked in the process. I coughed uncontrollably for a moment, then reached for my drink. I ended up dropping burrito juices on the robe I had put on over my costume.

Kat laughed, “Good thing you put the robe on. I wouldn’t want to explain that mess to the costumers or producers.”

After taking a long drink through the straw, I managed to get myself together enough to respond, “No kidding. I have an extra one hanging over there if you wanna use it while you eat. I know these are messy.”

“Why yes, I think I will. Thank you.”

Whatever had been bothering her earlier seemed to have passed. She was back to her normal smiley self as we rushed through our meal. It helped me feel a little more at ease and out of my head. Once I was finished with my burrito, I pulled the robe off, checking to make sure I hadn’t gotten anything on the costume. I turned to ask Kat if she saw any evidence left behind. I didn’t miss how her eyes looked me up and down before focusing on my shirt.

I couldn’t help teasing her, “You see something you like, Kit Kat?”

She narrowed her eyes at me, “I was just getting a look at your costume. I hadn’t seen it on you yet.”

I stood back, pulled the blazer open, and did a little spin for her, “You like?”

“Oddly enough…yes. The 70’s vibe suits you. I can’t believe you have it buttoned all the way up though. I was beginning to think you had a button allergy.”

I gave her a cocky grin, “If you wanna see a little more skin, just ask honey. I guess I probably should show a little more, in solidarity with you.”

She rolled her eyes before taking her last bite. I turned to the mirror and undid the top few buttons. I could see her watching me in the reflection, shaking her head with a smirk on her face. A few minutes later, we headed toward the ballroom for our final dress rehearsal. As we stood on the outer perimeter of the dance floor, Alec and Lana came to stand behind us to wait their turn. Kat seemed to be ignoring them, which was surprising. I couldn’t help glancing over at Alec. My mouth seemed to have a mind of its own as I took in his appearance.

“It looks like hair and makeup did a knockout job on you today, Alec. Can’t even tell that your face is fucked up.”

Kat snorted next to me, covering her mouth with her hand to hold back the laugh. I was surprised to see that Lana also had a hint of a smile on her lips.

Alec sneered, “Don’t get too excited, Bravo. You didn’t hit me that hard…nothing is broken.”

I gave him a toothy smile, “Nothing but your pride, right?”

“Fuck you, Bravo.”

Kat turned to me, placing her hand on my chest, “That’s enough, you two. Shut up or I’ll throat punch both of you.”

I was still smiling when I muttered a quick “sorry” her way.

She gave me a playful wink that Alec couldn’t see before looping her arm with mine, forcing me to turn away from him. We were called to go through our routine soon after that. We nailed it the first time through. The lightning, music, and camera angles fell into place perfectly for us. We went through it two more times just to be sure.

I don’t really know what came over me, I assumed it was because Alec was glaring at me the entire time, but I made sure to turn the flirtiness of our routine up a few notches. Kat didn’t seem to mind, meeting me where I was. Not that it was all an act. The way the fringy dress accentuated her hip movements really did almost have me on my knees. The woman’s body moved in ways that my brain could not handle.

I have to admit, I was getting a small thrill out of knowing Alec was seeing how good Kat and I were together. I didn’t want to make things harder on her, but he really did need to be put in his place. He needed to know that Kat was desirable.

I could feel the static crackling in the air between me and Kat as we walked off the dance floor, hand in hand. She had that look in her eyes again while we waited for final feedback. We were given the all clear to head to our final fitting after that. Kat kept hold of my hand the entire time. Only dropping it as soon as we ran into Stacia and Joe in the hallway. We moved to walk around them, but Stacia stopped us. I noticed she looked both of us over before she spoke to Kat, “Care to share what happened to Alec’s face?”

Kat’s eyes widened slightly, “What did Alec say happened to his face?”

Stacia’s eyes narrowed, “He didn’t…just said he’s clumsy.”

I worked to keep my face neutral, but I really wanted to laugh at the absurdity of everything.

Kat gave her a tight lipped smile, “Well, I won’t argue with that. He is clumsy.”

“So, you’re not gonna spill the details?” Stacia prodded.

“I’m afraid I don’t know the details. He was fine the last time I saw him…so I can’t help you there.”

I could tell by the way Stacia was looking at Kat that she didn’t believe her. It was almost like they were having some sort of standoff now, eyes locked in an intense gaze. Stacia’s eyes finally shifted over to me, her head tilting slightly. “How about you, Dieter? Do you know what happened to his face?”

I shrugged, “What makes you think I would know anything? I hardly see the guy.”

Stacia studied my face for a moment, almost like she was trying to read if I was lying. Her lips eventually turned upward into a smirk, “Well, good luck you two. Your dress rehearsal looked perfect. You’ve really turned up the heat this week. I’m sure the viewers are gonna love it.”

Joe stood by smiling like the Cheshire Cat through this entire interaction. Only mumbling a quiet “Good luck” as they walked away. Kat and I gave each other wide-eyed looks as we turned to head toward the wardrobe department for our final fitting. Once the fitting was done, we stopped in for hair and makeup touch ups. Kat had to go change for the opening performance while I went to the staging area to wait.

Since I skipped out on watching the group dress rehearsals, this was my first time seeing it. I remembered Stacia saying that they were going to put more attention on Kat, but I didn’t realize how much. She was the performance. Everyone else might as well have been background dancers. She worked the room and the cameras like no other and had the audience going crazy. She was magnetic and I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.

I lost interest once she was off the dance floor, opting to scroll through social media on my phone instead. I went down a rabbit hole of hashtags for the show, curious what people were saying. Kat was indeed a hot topic, and it was mostly positive. They fucking loved her and that made me happier than it probably should have. I definitely felt like Stacia was getting a heavy dose of karma after insinuating that Kat wasn’t that good in the beginning.

I eventually came across a Dieter and Kat hashtag. I thought twice about clicking it but did so anyway. There were apparently a lot of shippers for us out there. It now made more sense why Stacia and Joe were pushing that narrative. I was honestly surprised at the support for it. Usually, my fans flipped the fuck out anytime I was linked to any sort of serious romantic partner, but they seemed ok with this. I saw Kat coming in my periphery, so I hit the hashtag ‘follow’ button then locked my phone just as she made it over to me.

We were buzzing with anticipation as we awaited our turn. Kat hooked up her earbuds to her phone, “You ready for some hype music?”

I nodded, “What’s it gonna be today? Eye of the Tiger?”

She chuckled, “Oh no. I only pull out the big guns when it’s serious.”

She handed me one bud and my ear was immediately filled with the familiar guitar riffs of Walk this Way by Aerosmith and Run DMC. “Yaaaaaas! I approve!” I said with a wide grin. She laughed, bobbing her head to the beat while my fingers played the chords on my air guitar. It was exactly what we needed to get hyped up.

Before we knew it, it was our turn. I was strangely calm as we stepped out onto the dance floor and took our places. Kat’s confidence and sparkling eyes seemed to keep me grounded in the moment as the spotlight dropped down on her. I stood off to the side in the darkness, waiting until it was time to join her. She opened with the flirty strut and hip shaking thing she does so effortlessly before I came into the light, playing the lovesick puppy matching her every move while she shimmed and gyrated around me. There were a couple of instances where there was no space between us as our bodies moved as one to the beat. Kat’s cheek rested against mine, our fronts pressed together, our bodies twisting downward before popping back up for me to dip her backwards. She pushed me away dramatically before we transitioned into a lock step sequence followed by cross over breaks and a chase with full turns. We ended with a flourish as I spun Kat around and dipped her backward again, this time pulling her leg upward into our ending pose.

When the lights dimmed, I pulled Kat upward and hugged her against me as she bounced up and down. Her arms wrapped around my neck as her cheek pressed firmly against mine. “I swear, that was fucking perfect. We killed it,” she said loud enough for me to hear it. I could feel her hot breath against my ear as she spoke. I couldn’t help burying my face in her neck for a brief moment. I inhaled her scent quickly, it was sweet like berries and a spring day. I didn’t want to let go, but I had to. The producers were finally getting what they wanted, our whole interaction since stepping foot on the dance floor was over the top flirty and sexy. More so than it had been during rehearsals as we continued matching each other’s energy, not holding anything back. If the connection between us continued to grow like this every week, it was only a matter of time before something happened between us. Having this much chemistry was unsustainable in its current form.

While I did my interview and waited for the scores, Kat stood hugging me around the middle with both arms. I wrapped one of mine around her and pulled her tightly into my side.

The judges didn’t really have any feedback for us. They mostly gushed about the sexiness of the performance and how in sync we were with each other. Noting that we probably had a stronger connection than any other couple on the show this season. My head was spinning from the adrenaline of it all before we even got our scores. My knees felt like they were going to give out as they started calling out the numbers. They gave us two 8’s and two 9’s. Kat and I were both in shock as we stood with our mouths agape. She had to give me a little shake to bring me back down to earth as the host asked how I was feeling about having the highest score of the night.

Afterwards, we walked back to the staging area with smiles on our faces. Several cast members congratulated us as we passed by. We found a spot in the back corner, away from the others. Kat pulled me in for another hug, “That is the highest score I have ever gotten. I think I’m in shock.”

I chuckled, “I know, I’m in shock. That was…wow. I have no words.”

“We should celebrate with a big greasy burger after this,” she said with a toothy grin.

I nodded, my hand still resting on Kat’s hip after she pulled away from the hug. Her hand sat on the back of my shoulder as she leaned into my side. We stayed like that while watching the next couple’s performance. The energy was still buzzing between us when we were interrupted by Alec. I noticed his eyes drop down to where my hand was on Kat, anger briefly flashed across his face, but he managed to compose himself.

“Kat, can we talk for a minute?” he finally asked.

Her lips set into a tight line before she finally nodded and pulled away from me. He’s not really gonna do this now, is he?

They moved further away into the back corner, but I could still hear him begging her for another chance. I rolled my eyes, trying not to listen, but I honestly couldn’t help it.

“Baby, please, I swear. I’m not gonna fuck up again. I’m really gonna try to do better. I went to an AA meeting yesterday. I haven’t drank at all since that night. I feel terrible and I realize I can’t keep acting like this. I’ll do whatever you want. I’m still going to anger management, I’ll do therapy too if that’s what you really want. Please, I’ll do anything.”

I chanced a glance in their direction, Kat looked like her resolve was breaking. Fucking asshole. He was saying all the right things and I bet he didn’t mean a word of it.

“Alec, I can’t keep doing this.”

“I know baby, I don’t blame you. Just one more chance, please.”

Kat sighed, “OK. This is the LAST time though. You fuck up again and I’m done. It’s on you. You hear me?”

I didn’t even hear Alec’s response. I felt like the air had been knocked out of me. I had gotten my hopes up - let my fantasies of her being mine run wild and infect my senses. I felt dizzy for a different reason now, realizing my breathing was turning shallow.

My attention was drawn back to Kat when I heard my name.

“You need to get over whatever your issue is with Dieter. He’s done nothing wrong and doesn’t deserve to be treated like this. I’m not gonna put up with it. I want you to apologize for trying to hit him. That was on you.”

I don’t want his fucking apology.

“I’ll do whatever you want, just let me come home with you tonight. Please? So, we can talk, and I can show you how sorry I am. Let me make it up to you.”

She puffed air through her cheeks before nodding, “Fine. Whatever.”

I felt sick. I needed to leave. It felt like the walls were closing in on me and everything was suddenly too loud. Sweat was beading at the nape of my neck and running down my back. I felt like I was gonna have a fucking panic attack.

I turned to leave, nearly bumping into Kat who was now holding Alec’s hand at her side. I just stared at them wide-eyed. I could see the concern on Kat’s face, but I didn’t care.

“Dieter man, listen…I’m sor…” Alec started to say.

“Save it. I don’t want your fucking apology.”

I glanced down at Kat, “Enjoy your evening. I’m not feeling well, I need to go.”

I could hear Kat calling after me as I left the staging area and moved toward my dressing room. I quickly changed out of my costume and stuffed it into the dry cleaning bag, sitting it outside my door for pickup. I closed the door behind me and locked it. I sat down in the chair, my head in my hands as I fought to control my breathing. The tears pooled in my eyes as I tried to reason through why I was reacting like this. It wasn’t normal. The hurt was too much.

I was startled from my thoughts by a loud knock on the door.

“Dieter, are you in there?” It was Kat. I didn’t answer her.

My phone buzzed with several incoming text messages. They were from her, but I didn’t bother to look at them. I couldn’t.

I exhaled slowly, running my hands down my face. What is my fucking problem? It was then that the realization finally hit me. I was in love with her. “Fuck.”

Next: Week 4 (Part 1)

A/N: Y'all ready to come at me with pitchforks? Don't worry, it won't last long. Alec is a class A fuck up. You know it's only a matter of time. So, there was a lot that went down in this chapter. Now that you've read Dieter's side, who do you think is down worse, Dieter or Kat? There was a lot of flirty banter in this chapter and I am here for it. Do we think Kat was intentionally flirting? What do we think about them singing together? I can confirm, this will not be the only time that happens... We got a small glimpse of plant dad and cat dad Dieter in this part. Are we swooning yet? How much did we love Dieter being a smart ass to Alec during dress rehearsals? I feel like we need more snarky Dieter. What about Dieter's revelation at the end? How do you think that is going to affect his interactions with Kat going forward? Now for some fun stuff... a big shout out to @readingiskeepingmegoing for introducing me to one of the music artist featured in this chapter. I. AM. OBSESSED. The three songs referenced in this chapter are linked below as well as their performance song. I have also included another fun Cha Cha video that I took inspo from.

youtube

CP Taglist: @secretelephanttattoo @titlee78 @maggiemayhemnj @legendary-pink-dot @morallyinept

@survivingandenduring @wannab-urs @harriedandharassed @hisandsnakes @misstokyo7love

@readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @sin-djarin @cakipy-blog @missladym1981

@guelyury @weho2kcmo @alokaerza @girlofchaos @trulybetty

@rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @madnessofadaydreamer @darkheartgatita @jazzloveslatte

@timpletance @musings-of-a-rose @samiamproductions @myloveistoolittle @for-a-longlongtime

@copperhalfcent @auteurdelabre @drewharrisonwriter @burntheedges @stevie75

@bunniboo0015 @quicax3 jackie923 @sherala007 @pastelnap @pedrostories

@angelofsmalldeath-codeine @jessthebaker @rebel-held @gwendibleywrites @senorabond

👉 If your name is marked out, it wouldn’t let me tag you. ☹️

If you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments or shoot me a DM.

Credits: Support/MDNI Dividers: @cafekitsune Disco Divider: @deadbranch

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #dancing dieter #cat dad dieter #plant dad dieter #soft dieter #dieter bravo fluff #dieter bravo x ofc #closed position series #Spotify

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redphlox · 3 months

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Are you feeling about Touya? I can't imagine Horikoshi it would be way too cruel, especially since him and Shouto need to eat soba together.

Feeling hopeful. I know the general consensus in the Dabi fandom right now is fear and despondency but when I look at the overall picture of the story, Touya dying doesn't make any sense and there's a lot of setup for him to survive.

The random guard/whoever saying Touya is heading toward a slow death means nothing to me. Not when Ujiko, the brilliant (but evil) doctor who saved Touya from certain death on Sekoto Peak, was wrong about Dabi's body not surviving a month after he woke up from the coma. The core of Touya's character is literally about survival and determination, going above and beyond to exceed expectations to live and be seen. I also feel that there might be something within Touya that allows him to survive, which is how he has any fire resistance at all. He was crying actual real tears this chapter instead of blood, which hints that his body is healing. I've seen other people theorize that Shouto's Phosphor has healing properties, which is promising and more in line with the stories' themes and messages than Touya dying again.

Overall, the tone of the Todoroki family arc is positive and hopeful. Yes, Fuyumi quit her teaching position, but one of the students' parents helped her find another one. This means that not only does this one parent believe in her, but so does this new employer. And those kindergarteners that Shouto connected with during the remedial license Arc have been supporting him this entire time. These instances show that society is changing their attitude towards the relatives of those who commit crimes and are willing to accept the Todorokis back into society and are literally cheering for them. This doesn't change the fact that some people will definitely hate them, but it's not all doom and gloom. And the soba thing - what a way to connect to someone who was born to replace you! That's a deep connection right there, and that's good. The story has focused a lot on connections and how life-saving and important those can be. Dying would rip that connection and go against the themes

Also, I feel like the Todoroki family would be much more worried and emotionally wrecked if they thought Touya was actually dying. Endeavor keeps talking to Touya about the future and visiting him. Unless all of them are in denial about what is happening, then why would they torture themselves talking about something that can't happen? All these conversations they want to have etc etc. It would be cruel, and Horikoshi is a sensitive guy. I don't think he could write something like that, and it doesn't fit what he's written so far.

To go further than Touya, I wouldn't be surprised if we see Toga and Spinner also on their deathbeds currently too, tbh. I'm thinking that mysterious new character (who is Tenko, no doubt), saved by his regeneration quirk, may help them. There's set up for it via Kurogiri telling Shigaraki his friends are waiting for him, and not to mention Shigaraki's always been the hero of the lov. He might not have saved them emotionally like the hero kids did, but he can save them physically. I'm not sure how exactly it'll all happen but I think they will all be okay in the end.

I know some readers have a different, more critical/negative opinion than I do, and that's fine. Ever since Shigiraki died, I've been saying that it's going to get worse before it gets better and that we're not going to see a resolution to that soon, and that's all been happening. I hate this saying, but, it's not over till the fat lady sings. I'm just going to keep on reading. I keep telling my friends this over and over again but it's kind of like reading the last Harry Potter (author is dead to me) book and stopping/rage quitting when Harry is killed by Voldemort in the forest. Keep reading. The story is not over yet, and a lot can change for the better. Let Horikoshi tell his story.

#bnha #bnha 426 #bnha spoilers #bnha asks

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tmpestuous · 1 month

Text

Moth to a Flame - 6

series masterlist

summary: Bucky Barnes was the love of your life, and you were his. There was no denying it. But after two years of dating, you found yourselves on different paths and decided it was best to go your separate ways. The only problem was how drawn you’d always be to him even after moving on.

pairing: College!Bucky x Reader

warnings: angst, toxic relationships, physical injuries (not reader or Bucky), hints of emotional torture/abuse, gaslighting, hospitals, hint of (temporary) loss of friendships

word count: 4.8k

a/n: finally updating! hoping to have chapter 7 up soon as well <3 these next three chapters are definitely angst-heavy (apologies, it’s my forte) but then we’ll get some resolutions. like i said previously, a lot of these next few chapters will be from bucky’s perspective. i hope you enjoy!

—

You couldn’t stop the tears in your eyes from streaming down your face. Beyond how fucked up this entire situation is, you could feel the fatigue that was going to hit you in the morning.

Atlas was holding you back and your pushes and pulls were to no avail. Pietro was looking you dead in the eye as they dragged him out of the frat house.

“That’s what happens when your friends try to fuck with me,” Atlas whispered in your ear. “With Barnes, it’ll be a lot worse. That’s why you listen to me when I say to stay away from him.”

Bucky could hear the stir coming from your bed. The whimpers as if you were in pain. He’d recognize your nightmare patterns every time.

It’d been a while since he had to soothe you out of a nightmare; hell, he couldn’t even remember the last time. But he immediately shot up from the couch where he slept and made his way to your bed, placing a soft hand on your shoulder and rubbing it slowly.

“Y/n, hey,” he spoke in a soft tone near your ear. Your back was facing him, but he could make out the tears on your face.

Were you crying in your sleep? Is that even possible?

Well, clearly, it’s possible. He was witnessing it right now.

It was just new to him.

He shook you gently, flipping your body so you were facing him. Your face was contorted so heavily, anyone could assume you were in pain.

He rubbed your head, calling your name again. “Doll, you’re okay. Please wake up. You’re okay,” he repeated the same phrase a few times before you were startled awake.

Your eyes were red, like you’d been crying for hours. They were widened as you stared in Bucky’s face, his expression a mix of a few feelings.

Concern? Confusion? Fear? Maybe all of them.

“Hey,” he said, like he always did when he pulled you out of a nightmare. You stared back at him like you couldn’t even believe he was still here for you.

Of course he was. He’d always be.

“Sorry if I startled you,” Bucky spoke once he realized you weren’t gonna say anything. He rubbed the tears from your eyes out of habit, apologizing shortly after.

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice so raspy that you had to clear your throat after you pushed the words out. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“How long have they been back?” He avoided your apology.

Bucky was no stranger to your nightmares. When you two had first met, they weren’t as bad as you claimed they used to be. Unresolved trauma left you triggered in certain situations sometimes; you brushed it off without talking much about it.

You weren’t all too reserved with Bucky when you first became close, but you weren’t exactly an open book either. Your family was a touchy subject. But once you had confided in him, your nightmares dissipated slowly.

He knew everything about how to soothe you. He still remembered to this day. He didn’t entirely rule it out, but he knew full well that you couldn’t be this overwhelmed about just family problems.

“A few days,” you admitted, exhaling a sigh as tears welled in your eyes again. “I can’t talk about it though.”

“Y/n…” Bucky stared at you, concern expressed all through his irises. He grabbed your hands in his, the trembling of yours failing to cease under his touch. “You know you can talk to me.”

“I know,” you reassured him. “Trust me, I know, but I can’t this time.”

Bucky shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

You pulled your hands from his. “I can’t, Bucky. I have to get ready.”

“Y/n, wait-” he reached out for you as you stood up and started to walk. Standing in front of you, he searched your eyes for answers that wouldn’t come. “Do you know what happened to Pietro?”

Your gaze became even more unreadable. “Yeah, I saw him when I walked in.”

“He kept asking for you,” Bucky kept his stare intently on your eyes, though you did anything to avoid it. “Why?”

“How am I supposed to know, Bucky?”

“Do you know how it could’ve happened? Why it happened?”

“You’d seriously think I’d know why one of my best friends got beat to a pulp?”

Suddenly cursing himself for unintentionally sounding accusatory, Bucky shook his head. “No, I didn’t mean it like that—”

“I have to go, Bucky,” you said, your voice shaky from the sob creeping in your throat, before opening your bedroom door to head to the bathroom.

To your surprise, Sharon Carter was outside your door, with a shock-stricken expression on her face. The expression didn’t falter when Bucky popped up behind you.

Rolling your eyes in defeat, you pushed past her to make your way into the bathroom across the hallway.

Staring at Bucky, Sharon was speechless.

“Do you seriously think I’d be this calm if I had gotten caught cheating on you?” Bucky asked, his eyebrows pulled together.

“I just-” She looked down at Bucky’s state, knowing it definitely wasn’t a post-sex one. “I wasn’t expecting you two to be in the same room, is all.”

Bucky nodded. “When did you get here?”

“Just now. Sorry, I stopped by your place and Sam told me you were here. I texted you a few times and you didn’t answer so I wouldn’t have gone to your place if you did.”

Bucky nodded again, taking a deep inhale and exhaled before rubbing his eyes. “I woke up less than 10 minutes ago. Nat asked me to stay over in case anything happened. I just gotta get dressed before heading out.” Sharon nodded as Bucky pulled his keys out of his jeans pocket then handed them to her. “Wait for me in the car? I gotta chat Nat up real quick.”

After Sharon agreed and left the suite, Bucky quickly got dressed and left your room before you were out of the bathroom. You clearly weren’t in the mood to chit-chat, so he didn’t want to intrude nor bother you further.

Bucky pulled his sweater over his head, walking into the kitchen where Nat was finishing up brewing some coffee.

“Did you talk to her?” She asked immediately.

“You don’t hesitate, do you?” When Nat gave him a glare, he gave in, leaning against the kitchen counter where Nat was currently focused. “I asked her about Pietro, but I kind of fucked it up.”

“James Buchan—”

“Woah, woah, woah, no need for full names,” Bucky placed a singular finger over Nat’s lips to quiet her. “My words just came off a lot more accusatory than I intended. But she knows Pietro asked for her after the incident.”

Natasha hummed in response. “Anything else?”

“She had a nightmare. Didn’t say much after I woke her.”

“A nightmare? She hasn’t had a rough night’s sleep since we started living together.”

“Something’s eating her alive,” Bucky sighed. “We need to pull her out before it consumes her alive.”

“I know,” Nat sniffled, hurting for her best friend. “I just hope it isn’t worse than we think. What are you gonna get up to today?”

Bucky shrugged. “Whatever Sharon wants to do for the day, I guess.”

“Aw, look at you being a good boyfriend,” Nat teased, Bucky pushing her shoulder lightly in response. “If you’re not busy, come by a little later. She’ll probably be here, so we can talk to her together.”

Bucky nodded in agreement. “Okay, Tash. See you later,” he gave her a quick (and rare) hug before heading out.

Bucky knew he and Natasha had to be the ones to figure out what was going on. Part of him wanted to pry the information out of Pietro, but with his current physical state, it wouldn’t be good for his mental state.

All things considered, Bucky also knew Pietro would come to him when he needed to. He just hoped it was sooner than he thought.

Bucky saw Sharon had pulled his car up to the front, waiting for him in the passenger seat as he slid into the driver’s side quickly.

“Do you have any plans later today?” She asked as Bucky put his seatbelt on before looking over at her.

“Um, Nat just wants me to come over later to talk about some things,” Bucky said honestly. He had no reason to lie. “Why do you ask?”

“Is everything okay with you and Nat?”

“What?” Bucky asked, confused. “Oh, yeah. We’re fine, it’s just one of our friends we’re worried about.”

“Pietro, right?”

“No—well, yes—but another one of our friends, Y/n,” Bucky admitted. “We don’t know why, yet, though. But, did you have something in mind?”

Bucky didn’t need to lie or cover anything for Sharon, but the rest of his friend group didn’t even know what was happening with you, so he couldn’t tell her before them.

He and Natasha didn’t explicitly say they were keeping things to themselves, but he couldn’t infringe on that before he knew the actual goal.

“There’s a party later on today,” she fiddled with her fingers, seemingly nervous while Bucky was relieved she followed the topic change. “I know you don’t like Atlas, but it’s at his frat house. My friends are going and I think it’d be great for you to meet them.”

“You’re right, I don’t like Atlas,” Bucky agreed. “But our plans were cut short last night, so no worries. I’ll be there.”

Bucky was telling the truth. If he was being honest, he liked Sharon. He hated that he sometimes compared her to you, which he hadn’t done early on in their relationship, but he enjoyed being around her.

Nonetheless, part of him hoped you’d be at this party. He could keep an eye on you, maybe get another chance to talk to you about everything.

7:00 PM

Bucky knocked on the door to your suite, which was opened by Natasha in less than 30 seconds.

“She’s not here,” she said right away, stepping aside so Bucky could walk in.

“My guess is she’s going to Atlas’s party,” he said, shrugging his jacket off and placing it on one of the dining chairs. “Where are the twins?”

“Wanda’s at the library. Pietro’s in his room. I’m honestly shocked she let him out of her sight, but she needed to study and he said he wanted to sleep in his bed.”

“That’s good,” Bucky noted, sitting at the dining table where Natasha joined him. “At least he seems to be feeling better.”

Natasha nodded. “So… what’s the plan?” Bucky let out a questioning hum. “What are we gonna say to her?”

“The truth, Nat. I don’t think we owe her anything less.”

Bucky tried racking through his brain all day for possibilities of what could be bothering you. He knew it involved Atlas. There was no doubt about it.

He hated that you were still with him. Even a part of him wondered if seeing him with Sharon would make you jealous. Bucky wasn’t proud of it, but anything that got you away from that asshole would be enough for him.

Steve had let it slip that you two split up. It was two days after you had seen him with Sharon, which only made him feel bad for wanting to let her go. But as quick as he’d found out you’d broken up, you were back together again.

He had so many questions, ones he knew he’d never find answers to. Natasha and Steve knew nothing, though Nat always had her suspicions. She had even started to confide more in Bucky about her thoughts on the whole situation. Steve would always know, but Bucky would understand. She didn’t know anyone else that cared about you as much as Bucky did. Even after you had split.

Bucky wanted to wrangle Atlas in his hands and make him disappear off the face of the earth. He’d do anything to see the light in your eyes again. The anxiety dissipated from the look on your face. The tension relieved from your shoulders.

He’d do anything.

“You mentioned a party, right? Is it at Atlas’s?” Natasha asked, pulling Bucky out of his thoughts as he nodded. “How did you find out about it?”

“Sharon invited me. I do owe her a night to spend time together, but I also figured Y/n might be there.”

As Natasha was about to respond, the front door opened.

You walked in and paused at the sight of them, knowing they were probably talking about you.

“Hi,” was all you could muster.

“Hey,” Nat and Bucky said in unison.

Furrowing your brows, you shook your head. “Look, if this is about this morning—”

“It’s not,” Bucky cut you off. “Well, not entirely. We’re just worried about you.”

“There’s nothing to be worried about, I promise.”

Natasha cut Bucky off before he could speak. “Are you kidding? You got back with a man who I know you cannot stand to even think about. He does nothing but make you miserable. You look like you’ve barely slept in weeks. So save me the drama and just tell us what you’ve gotten yourself into so we can get you out of it.”

Her tone was a bit harsh, but Bucky knew it was the only way she could phrase everything without hesitating to leave something out. He felt the same way, but he knew he could never talk to you in that way.

Sighing to yourself, you shook your head once more and looked away. Bucky knew you weren’t going to say anything. Your right index finger kept tapping against your thumb, a pondering look on your face.

“I have to get ready,” was all you said before walking to your room.

Suffocated couldn’t even begin to describe how your throat was feeling. You wanted to just crash out and disappear, forget everyone existed, and just move on.

You couldn’t fess up and tell Nat and Bucky about anything, as much as you wanted to. Atlas had Bucky on his radar and you were already so guilty about keeping the truth of Pietro’s accident from your friends. You couldn’t let the same happen to Bucky. It might actually burn you alive.

Wiping the tears you didn’t even realize had fallen, you packed a bag to stay over at Atlas’s, yet another night where you knew you’d get no sleep.

A stupid party only made you worry about what Atlas had up his sleeve this time. You couldn’t get the smug look on his face after he forced you to see Pietro’s face get smashed in so many times out of your head. It was sinister, a feeling that you didn’t even think you could witness.

Once you were finished, you walked back out to where Natasha and Bucky immediately turned their attention to you.

“Where are you going?” Natasha asked, her tone clearly a concerned one.

“Atlas wants me at this party tonight; he also asked me to stay the night.”

“I can drive you,” Bucky offered immediately. “I’m going to the same party.”

“What?” You turned to look at him.

Bucky couldn’t be at this party. You really weren’t sure what was going to happen and the last thing you needed was for Bucky to think you kept Pietro’s accident away from everyone on purpose. You’d not only never forgive yourself (as you were so already hellbent on not doing so), but he would never forgive you. Wanda would never forgive you. None of your friends would. Even if Pietro told them the truth, it’d probably be all for nothing.

“Sharon asked me to come.”

Of course she did.

“You shouldn’t. It’s not your scene.”

“Can’t raincheck anymore.”

Bucky was staring at you intensely, like he knew there was something you didn’t want him to see. Nonetheless, it only made him more willing to go to this stupid party. To see how he could save you.

“Okay, well,” you hesitated. “It’s fine. I don’t need a ride. I’ll see you tomorrow, Nat.”

And you walked out of the door without hearing nor saying another word.

11:30 PM

Bucky was so over this function already. Sharon was being too clingy, he was trying to be sober enough to see if he could make out anything wrong with you, and his girlfriend’s friends were already drunk by the time he got there.

“Are you sure you don’t want a drink?” Sharon asked Bucky, pulling him off his train of thought as she ran her hands up and down his arms.

“Yeah, not in the mood,” Bucky responded shortly. “Plus I’m driving.”

His eyes never deviated from you as he spoke to her, which Sharon definitely took note of. She never gave the impression that she was jealous of you, but rather understood that Bucky would always have history with you. He would always care for you.

But Bucky was a good guy. He was mostly truthful about his concern to Sharon about your relationship with Atlas. She knew minute details, but his concern was sincere. He wasn’t trying to win you over, he was trying to pull you out of a shitty situation.

She just wished he’d pay her more attention.

“You haven’t stopped staring at her all night.”

Bucky snapped his eyes over to the girl in front of him. “I’m just looking out for her, that’s all.”

“She’s fine,” Sharon pressed.

“Yeah? How would you know?” Bucky turned his attention back in your direction, seeing you say something to Atlas with annoyance written all over your face before walking away from him. Seeing you head towards the stairs prompted him to follow. “I’ll be back.”

Ignoring Sharon’s clear frustration, Bucky tried not to internalize it. He knew he’d have to make it up to her afterward, but his intuition only strengthened after your behavior at your place earlier. He couldn’t beat it out of Atlas himself so the least he could do was try to get you to talk to him again.

Bucky immediately rushed up the stairs, making it right behind you in the hallway as you turned around to face him. Sighing to yourself with a head shake, you turned your back to him once more before heading towards the upstairs bathroom.

“Y/n, wait—”

Now you two were in the bathroom together.

“I seriously can’t even piss in peace,” you said as you pushed your hair away from your face.

“We need to talk,” Bucky said as you sat on the toilet lid, putting your head in your hands.

“What for? There’s nothing else for me to say or do. You shouldn’t even be here.”

“Why do you not want me here so bad?”

Once you looked up at Bucky, you already had tears in your eyes. He always hated seeing you cry. There was never a moment in your relationship when he’d made you cry anything other than happy tears. The only exception was when you two decided to call things off, and the picture of those tears on your face remained in his head for so long.

You knew Bucky could always read you like a book, and something was telling him you had more to say than you were letting on.

As you stood back up, you closed the space between the two of you. Bucky was scanning your face for answers, while your eyes were doing as much as they could to plead with him to let things go.

You cupped Bucky’s face in your hands, much to his surprise, before planting a soft kiss to his lips. Pulling away as quickly as you kissed him, you sighed to yourself.

“I’m sorry.”

Your words came out shaky as Bucky realized you were trying not to cry again.

“What for?” Bucky said, grabbing onto your wrists gently as your hands still caressed his cheeks. “Talk to me.”

“I didn’t want any of this to happen,” you shook your head. “I didn’t ask for any of this to happen and I know it’s going to be so unforgivable but—”

Then there was a knock at the door. And after that, everything happened so quickly.

First, it was the door to the bathroom being pounded on which Bucky immediately found unnecessary. Opening the door to see Atlas, he was already rolling his eyes.

“Can’t seem to get away from my girlfriend, Barnes?” Atlas said with a smug grin on his face. Bucky swore if he were a worse person, he’d punch all of Atlas’s teeth out. Deciding against his impulsive thoughts, he didn’t even say a word to him, starting to push past him outside the bathroom and into the hallway. Then Bucky was immediately pulled by a group of guys, got a hard punch landed to his face, and Atlas was staring right in his face as Bucky tried to push and pull out of the grasp he was being held in. “Didn’t think I’d let you miss the show, did you?”

But Bucky wasn’t looking at Atlas. He was looking behind him at you. You had a look of terror on your face, tears streaming down your cheeks like a waterfall, with helpless pleas to Atlas to stop whatever it is he had planned. You even snuck in repetitive apologies to Bucky.

That was the last bit of hurt he felt for you before he was dragged downstairs, given a firsthand look at Pietro’s bloodied face and semi-conscious body lying on the floor.

The crowd around him had mixed opinions. Some scoured away with disgust, some were petrified at what they saw, and others looked… content.

Screams of warnings from those with bloodied knuckles to match Pietro’s state to all of the onlookers, but Bucky heard everything in a muffle.

He then saw you run downstairs, place your hands on his face trying to frantically check on him after Atlas’s friends threw him on the ground.

“You knew?”

That was all he said to you before he was pulled once again, watching as Atlas held you back before you could follow.

Thrown outside with Pietro to follow, he immediately shook his head to pull himself back to reality. Pulling his phone out, he dialed 911 with shaking hands, rushing over to Pietro to keep him awake with the slight bit of consciousness he had left.

He remembered everything in bits and pieces. A scared Sharon running out. The lights and sirens of the ambulance hurting his eyes and ears. The paramedics asking to check on him since his under eye was swollen. The emptiness he felt while waiting in the hospital for news about Pietro. The guilt that overtook him as his friends rushed into the waiting room.

“Is she here?” Wanda asked, feelings of betrayal enveloping the tone in her voice.

Though he didn’t lift his gaze from his shoes, Bucky shook his head. He couldn’t even begin to process what he saw. What he felt.

You didn’t just know Pietro was hurt, you knew how.

You couldn’t have possibly kept that from everyone on purpose, could you?

As everyone walked out of the waiting room to give Bucky some space per Natasha’s request, she sat next to the brunette with a dazed look on his face.

“Are you okay?” She asked softly.

“She- she knew. I can’t wrap my head around why she wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Do you think it has to do with our suspicions?”

At this point, Bucky had no idea. His head was pounding, he could feel his eye forming a bruise, and his chest ached worse than ever. He stayed quiet for a moment before offering the possibility he’d never want to believe.

“What if it doesn’t?” He rasped out, looking at Natasha next to him. “What if she just feels guilty, Nat?”

“No,” Natasha responded without hesitation. “I can’t even begin to think that my best friend would do such a thing without being forced to. It’s not like her, Bucky.”

“She kissed me, you know,” Bucky changed the topic as Natasha looked at him confused. “I asked her to talk to me again, at the party. She kissed me. She kissed me like she was apologizing and then actually apologized.”

“We have to ask Pietro what he knows, Buck,” Natasha suggested.

Other than Bucky, she was the only one who felt as strongly about you out of the whole group. You were her best friend, her most trusted companion. She couldn’t possibly believe that you’d betray everyone like that.

Before Bucky could respond, they both heard the screaming outside. Rushing out of the waiting room, they saw Steve and Sam holding Wanda back as she yelled at you in the hallway. As confused as he was, Bucky wanted nothing but to pull you in his arms when he saw you sobbing. You looked like you could barely breathe, just letting Wanda spew the word ‘traitor’ at you among a string of other angry thoughts.

When Steve and Sam started to pull Wanda back, asking her to stop as they were in a hospital and people were starting to stare, you locked eyes with Bucky before quickly turning around and heading towards the exit.

“Bucky—”

“I’ve gotta go after her, Nat,” Bucky cut Natasha off as she nodded and urged him to go.

Chasing after you down the hallway, he caught up to you as he saw you fall to your knees outside, curling into yourself as people began to ask if you needed help.

Bucky assured the people it was fine as he kneeled in front of you, begging you to look up at him. When he realized you wouldn’t budge, he picked you up and took you to a nearby bench, sitting down with you in his arms.

“It’s okay,” he reassured you as he rubbed your back while your cries never let up. “I promise, it’s okay.”

“Are you kidding me?” You reacted harshly as you pulled out of his arms. “I lied to all of you, Bucky, and you’re here comforting me. I—”

“You can’t possibly think I’m feeling the way Wanda is right now, can you?”

Staring at him in disbelief, you scoffed before you tried to calm your breathing. Bucky could see the tears that were still falling down your face, illuminated by the lighting outside of the hospital.

“How do you feel then?” You asked, trying your best to talk without hiccupping after all the crying you’ve done and are still doing.. “I could’ve prevented all of this, I could’ve stopped all of this but I can’t. I can’t do anything anymore. It’s too late.”

“How could you have stopped everything?”

“I could’ve told you. You and Nat. You both asked me to just say something and maybe if I did, Pietro wouldn’t be in a hospital bed again because of me.”

Bucky didn’t say a word. Not because he didn’t have anything to say, but rather he had no idea how to phrase his thoughts.

As you took your first deep breath since he saw you, you wiped your eyes and got up. Bucky stood up right after you.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to leave, Bucky,” you said as you walked towards your car, Bucky following right behind you.

“Tell me you didn’t just keep Pietro’s injury a secret on purpose.” Shaking your head, you unlocked your car and started to open the driver door before Bucky shut it again. “Tell me the truth.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“What do you mean Pietro got hurt because of you?”

As soon as you looked up at Bucky’s eyes, you immediately looked away. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because it would only make things worse for him. For me. For you.” Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, the look on Bucky’s face clearly asked you to elaborate. “I can’t keep putting anyone else in danger, Bucky. I’ve already done it to Pietro and look how that ended up. I can’t keep talking to you or it’s only going to get worse.”

“Is that why Pietro kept telling me your name last night? Why you were so upset if I asked you how his injuries happened?”

“I was upset because I had to lie to you.”

“Because you did know.” You nodded your head. “You didn’t keep it from me on purpose, right? Please tell me.”

“You want me to lie to you again?”

“What does Atlas have on you?”

“Please let me leave, Bucky,” you said as the tears welled in your eyes again. “Please.”

Once Bucky realized you wouldn’t tell him anything, he let you go. He watched you get in your car and drive off, leaving him more confused than he was at the start of all this.

His headache was only getting worse, so he decided it was best to go back inside. Nat asked him what he had found out, and Bucky was sincere.

The two of them knew they had to figure everything out. And the only way to start was to talk to Pietro as soon as possible.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky angst #bucky barnes x you #bucky x female reader #bucky imagine

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azrielslightintheshadows · 11 months

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Shadows and tears

So this is a series about Azriel and reader. English is not my first language so please excuse any mistakes. I hope you like it!

Summary: Reader is a tortured soul who barely escaped the brutality of the Illyrian camps finding shelter in the Day Court. Her identity was well hidden until she caught the attention of the Night Court’s Shadowsinger. Will the mating bond be enough for their love to settle in?

Warnings: angst, mentions of abuse and trauma, minor descriptions of reader

You don't need a tissue box.....yet

Masterlist

Prologue , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8, Chapter 9 , Chapter 10

Chapter 1

What did I get myself into?

Azriel went back to his room not wanting to face his friends as he was lost in thought about the mysterious female, he could feel power radiating off her, a familiar kind of power but he couldn’t grasp at it like something was blocking him. When he tried to feel her, he felt something cold caress his skin but was soon stopped by a warm feeling like a cocoon around the cold pulling it back.

Where are you? Rhysand spoke in his mind.

In my room I’m tired he replied and blocked Rhysand.

After some time, his shadows informed him that the party was over, and everyone was back in their rooms, he fell back in deep thoughts and before he knew it morning had come and the palace was alive again. With a sigh he got up and started getting ready for the day, he wasn’t bothered by the lack of sleep, he was used to it by now and his body didn’t show any signs of tiredness as he put his Illyrian leathers on and started walking to Cassian’s room, just in time Cassian opened the door ready for the day. After a brief greeting the two Illyrian warriors started walking towards the stairs that lead to the main room but were soon stopped by two voices “y/n we have to tell them, you need help” it was Helion’s voice filled with worry.

“I don’t trust them Helion, when I escaped from the night court, I promised myself to never go back, I know you believe that Feyre and Rhysand are good leaders but everything that happened to me was under their reign. They only care about their family and Velaris, they don’t give a damn about the rest of us.” y/n said and Azriel could hear the heartbreak in her voice.

Cassian was wide eyed while Azriel felt the gears in his head turning nonstop. What was going on? What happened to her? Then he heard Helion clearing his throat.

“Perhaps we should continue our conversation another time” he said and Azriel’s shadows went frantic, informing their master that the high lord knew they were eavesdropping. He grabbed Cassian’s arm and started pulling him towards the stairs despite the warlord’s protests, only after they were out of hearing range, he let Cassian’s arm.

“We should’ve walked in there and demand an explanation why the hell did you pull me away” the warlord hissed.

“Because we were eavesdropping the conversation the high lord who invited us here had with one of the people he protects” Azriel scream-whispered “that’s beyond disrespectful Cass that’s stuff that can make two courts go to war over. We have to report back to Rhysand, and he will decide what happens.”

“Oh don’t go all spymaster to me now” Cassian scoffed.

“They are right to call you a brute you know” the shadow singer smirked and continued walking to Rhysand who knew what happened because Cassian had already let him in his mind.

Azriel sat next to his high lord ready to report, Rhysand though gave him a knowing look.

“I will have a discussion with Helion as soon as he is available, and we will see what this is all about”.

The shadow singer only nodded and started with his breakfast. “Rhysand, I need you in my office” Helion’s voice rang through the walls, and everyone shared a look. Feyre seemed to know what was going on and by the looks of hers and Rhysand’s glazed eyes everyone understood that he briefed her quickly before getting up and following one of Helion’s people with Cassian and Azriel on their steps. Walking inside Helion’s office everyone could feel the tension in the air, Helion was sitting behind his big desk with y/n standing next to him her gaze was completely indifferent although the biting of her bottom lip showed her nervousness and irritation. Rhysand took one of the seats in front of the desk and as usual Cassian and Azriel stood on guard at each side of the door. They knew some of Helion’s guards were sitting on the small balcony of the office and others right outside the door.

“So, you have met y/n” Helion said as soon as he had all the attention.

“Briefly” Rhysand responded with a bored look, putting one foot over the other and laying his arm on the back of his seat looking completely relaxed but also intimidating. The act reminding the facade he kept going in the court of nightmares. Helion stared at him in what could have been a reminder to Rhysand that he is not buying the act. “y/n right now is glamoured by me” Helion continued and Azriel now understood that the cocoon which held her power back was probably Helion’s glamour.

Helion paused and then started taking his glamour off, they all stopped breathing as her natural dark brown hair almost black at the top came in view, the appearance of big Illyrian wings was the last drop as they felt their hearts skipping a beat. Her previously perfect skin now had bargaining tattoos and scars. Cassian’s arms were instantly at the top of his swords and Rhysand stood straight, Azriel’s shadows started approaching her curiously and warily but when they got close a different kind of shadows wilder and angrier seemed to appear and attacked them creating a swirl of darkness moving around the room.

y/n gasped while Azriel stared at her, now realizing how she saw him in the dark the previous night.

“She can’t control them” Helion said gesturing to the swirl that was breaking half of his stuff. The shadowsinger pulled his shadows back and y/n’s returned around her as a protective wall.

“Why is she here and why haven’t I been informed about this?” Rhysand said raising his voice.

“She came here about a year ago asking for asylum, she was in a horrible state” Helion paused and looked at her silently asking to continue, after she nodded he continued “she was beaten up, her wings were almost clipped and she looked like she hadn’t slept for months, I took her in and she spent the first months here not eating, not sleeping and even when she couldn’t keep her eyes open she would have horrible nightmares waking up screaming and thrashing around. She feared the night court and every time I suggested telling you she would beg me not to.”

Rhysand furrowed his brows. Cassian let out a shaky breath and Azriel just stared with his usual cold gaze even though his heart was breaking knowing exactly the feeling.

“I need your shadowsinger to teach her how to control them” Helion concluded with a pleading look.

“Helion, you know that I can’t leave Azriel here, he is my spymaster”

“Then you can take her back in your court and teach her there” no one missed y/n’s look of betrayal and the fists she kept at her sides so tight that her knuckles turned white. Helion too looked like he was punched in the stomach, but they could understand that he didn’t have a choice, he knew that uncontrollable shadows could be deathly for everyone and mostly for their master.

Rhysand was lost deep in thoughts staring at her, his eyes unfocused and y/n flinched, his face went from stoic to hurt and then pure sadness.

y/n was wide eyed staring at the high lord who invaded her privacy and went looking inside her brain. Azriel assessed her, her body was one of a warrior, it was the Illyrian silhouette but from her stance he could tell that she didn’t know how to fight and most importantly she didn’t know how to shield her mind. Was she really a threat?

“Okay we will take her” Rhysand announced “you don’t have to fear us y/n I promise you we mean no harm unless you try to hurt one of us” he continued, and they both felt the burn of the tattoo. Y/n looked at her arm… the new tattoo there and relaxed muttering a simple okay.

The rest of the day they packed their stuff and had a meeting with Rhysand who explained to the rest of them about the new addition to their company. It was Azriel who decided to ask Rhysand in his mind what he saw when he went in y/n’s head, but the high lord refused to tell him unless y/n decided to.

Everyone was ready to winnow saying their last goodbye to the high lord of the day court. y/n was standing next to them, she glanced at Helion one last time a thankful smile on her face and disappeared in the darkness of Rhysand’s magic. What did she get herself into?

#azriel #azriel angst #acotar fic #acotar series #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #azriel spymaster #rhysand #feysand #feyre archeron #a court of thorns and roses

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quinnyundertow · 7 months

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About Me

Quinny F/30, She/Her

Obsessions: Jujutsu Kaisen, Genshin Impact, My Hero Academia, Yuta Okkotsu, Figure collecting, Writing

Quinny's Masterlist

AO3 Account

My Works Below

Series

Title “Picking up the Pieces” (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Choso x Reader Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy ending, strangers to lovers.

Manga Spoilers - Battle vs Sukuna is over

Words: 5,600+

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Title "When I Catch You Gege " (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Summary Reader is Isekai'd into JJK with the determination to change canon and make sure she rights the wrongs of Gege. Oh and enjoy her time there...yeah that too. No manga plot spoilers. Reader x everyone. All characters 18+ unless otherwise stated.

Content Warning: Canon typical violence, torture, suicide, Non-con, extreme bullying, angst with a happy ending.

Pairings: Reader x Nanami Kento, Haibara Yu, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Junpei Yoshino, Okkotsu Yuta, Toji Fushiguro

Genre Fix It, Reverse Harem, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Angst w/ Happy Ending Status Ongoing Length 40 Chapters / 180,000 + Words Chapters Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Title Sanity's Last Stop (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Summary Forced to work after the death of her father y/n finds themselves filling a nurses role at Hillsboro Asylum for the Criminally Insane. The patients and workers alike have her questioning her own sanity in this new insular world during WWII.

Ryoumen Sukuna has become a fixture in solitary confinement for the last seven years. His sanity was barely there before but now it is frayed beyond redemption. A good will gesture brings him and y/n into a strange secret relationship

Okkotsu Yuta swears he isn’t insane he didn’t hurt anyone it was Rika who killed those people. Just because no one else can see her doesn’t mean she isn’t there. You believe him right?

Pairings: Reader x Ryoumen Sukuna, Reader x Yuta Okkotsu

Genre Horror, Angst, Eventual Smut, Angst w/ Happy Ending Status Ongoing Length 5 Chapters, 18,000 Words Chapters Chapter 1

Title Cult Leader’s Quarry (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Summary You’re living an average non-sorcerer office workers life when you catch the eye of a certain unstable cult leader. The more you pull away the more trapped you become.

The first time Suguru Geto saw you was also the first time he wondered if the girls needed a mother figure in their lives. Not that he was considering you. No, never, his lip curled at the very notion. Even the passing thought of a monkey like you around his precious daughters was enough to make him feel ill.

Pairings Suguru Geto x Reader, Slight Gojo Satoru x Reader

Status Ongoing 14,000+ Words

Chapters Chapter 1 , Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 Chapter 5

One Shots

Title Kick-Off - Goalies Turn (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Genre Comedy, Fluff, Smut, Soccer AU

Pairing Reader x Choso

Fic Recommendations

Jujutsu Kaisen

The Gallery (Fanart & Commissions for my Fics)

#Masterlist #quinnyficrelated #QuinnyMasterlist #reader x Haibara Yu #reader x gojo #reader x Suguru #reader x Nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #yuta okkotsu

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crazyfoolish · 1 month

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You're So Vain | Obi-Wan Kenobi | Part 1

Summary: Y/N gets rescued by Obi-Wan after months of being tortured by General Grievous.

Prompt: but you gave away the things you loved, and one of them was me.

Warnings: Torture, PTSD, Y/N has suicidal thoughts.

Complete chapter list here.

I once thought I was beyond such a fate. Truly, I did. But despite all my diplomatic efforts, I no longer believed in salvation. Here I was, left to rot in isolation, my cries for help ignored.

How utterly degrading. How long had it been?

Months? Years?

I didn’t know anymore. But one thing was certain—no one was coming for me.

As the Sith tore through my mind, searching for Republic secrets, I was forced to relive every memory of him. The past I longed to forget had become my torment.

33 BBY.

That was when I first encountered the Jedi Order and the Chosen One. I wasn’t the hero of my own story—I was merely a handmaiden to Queen Amidala, a witness to the dark beginnings of the Clone Wars.

When I returned home, my father sent me to Mandalore, where I worked under Queen Satine while continuing my espionage. My father had spread his children across the galaxy as a network of informants, and I had proven myself valuable.

In 35 BBY, while brushing Queen Satine’s hair, we often spoke of the Jedi and their past heroics. Those memories haunted me, especially as the Sith dug through my mind, searching for any mention of Kenobi. General Grievous's laughter echoed as pain shot through me.

“I enjoyed them, when they weren't slaves of the Republic,” Satine sighed.

“Arrogance tends to cloud one's judgment. Even the Jedi.”

“Have you met a Jedi, before?”

I muttered his name, very low.

"Master Kenobi was both brave and kind," Satine remarked. "Your silence on knowing him surprises me."

Guilt washed over me. I should never have let his name slip through. Just the mention of the Jedi had led me to reveal his identity. Yet, Satine's reaction hinted at a deeper curiosity.

"Back on Naboo, I saw him." I lied, crafting an image of elegance rather than arrogance. "He seemed...distinguished, youthful."

"But you spoke of arrogance," she countered with a dry tone. "Share your thoughts, Y/N. You are not in Coruscant."

I hesitated, then thought of him, and an involuntary smile broke through. "Perhaps I was too harsh. Him and his Master, may he find peace in the Force, appeared...vain."

"Vain?" Satine was genuinely taken aback. "The Jedi are humility incarnate. Are they not?"

I realized I had ventured too far. "Forgive me, Your Highness. I misspoke."

"It's quite alright. Your skepticism of the Jedi amuses me," she conceded. "It's fortunate you never talked to them. They have a way of sensing such…sentiments."

The irony wasn't lost on me.

The truth about the siege of Naboo: yes, they sensed it, and Obi-Wan didn’t trust any of the handmaidens.

If Padme did not want me there, then he would probably have sent me away. But I remained there, observing him and his Master. I never could forget him, staring down at Anakin, in deep thought and sadness, surrounding the bomb fire. His bright blue eyes looking golden.

That same night, I found him of the balcony of the palace, looking at the lake, lost in thoughts. I said: “Are you alright?” He was startled. “Yes,” his voice sounded hoarse. “Just thinking.”

“I’m sorry about Master Qui-gon,” I said, after a few seconds. My throat felt dry. “I saw it.”

Hidden in a corner, I wanted to add, like a coward. He cleared his throat:

“Thank you, Y/N. I’m…” A pause. “ Sorry to hear that.”

“You know my name?” I thought out loud. Regret it instantly. He turned around.

“What? Of course, I know your name. Aren’t you Queen Amidala’s servant?”

“Yes…”

“You are also Anakin’s friend.”

I remained silent for that part. He said the boy’s name with such…indifference. It seemed almost like he wanted to distance himself from him.

I believe we spoke a bit more, fragments of distance fading away. A shadow of a smile. Laughter, echoing faintly.

“I should say goodnight. And farewell,” I whispered, going inside. Then, a warm hand was in my shoulder, and I felt him hold me tight. The night was suddenly so quiet, and I could not move an inch.

“I know.”

I shivered. He was a Jedi. They did not lie.

Still, it was outrageous to suggest such...

“You think of me as vain and inconsequential, but, deep down, you know those thoughts are hiding something else.”

“Let me go,” I said, finally, out of breath.

“Is that really what you want?” He said, but he was already backing away. I turned around, he was still close. I leaned forward, no thoughts, just instinct, and kissed him.

He was grieving.

It was wrong.

And yet…

That night was the last night I saw him until years later, in Coruscant. I was quite naive back then, and I guess if I knew then what I know now… I would not have done it. That night ruined me and my heart for good.

And years later, being tortured, remembering telling Satine about him while thinking of…

“Interesting,” said General Griveous. “Very interesting.”

No. I forgot I wasn’t alone. I tried to block that memory for months. How could I let it slip now?

"Most intriguing," Grievous mused with a sinister tone.

Panic surged as I realized my lapse. For months, I had guarded that memory, only for it to betray me in a moment of weakness.

And I relived it. Over and over again.

Until he was tired of it.

"Remove her," Grievous commanded.

Rough hands hoisted me up, and a sharp pain blinded me momentarily. Thrown onto the cold ground, I gave in to the darkness again, haunted by dreams of torture and those blue eyes.

Another memory.

At that time, I had transitioned from a handmaiden to a more formidable role as Counselor to Senator Amidala and Mandalore's voice in critical Senate decisions.

My allegiance to both Padmé and Satine never seemed conflicting, given their mutual respect and trust in me. However, Anakin's was skeptic about me.

Time had refined me, and any expectation of Obi-Wan recalling our intimate night was just…useless.

"I don't like this," Anakin's voice pierced through the corridor, his words aimed at Padmé. I trailed behind, feigning preoccupation with my holo-messages, yet their conversation ensnared my attention. Obi-Wan, now beside me, was a presence I found overwhelming to confront directly.

"I trust Y/N, Anakin," Padmé retorted with a whisper of irritation. "And isn't Obi-Wan close to the Queen of Mandalore? I didn't expect you two to be involved in this matter."

"Mandalore's neutrality in the war is precarious. They should choose a side—the right side. Perhaps she's exploiting your trust for information."

“I don't tell the anything she does not already know. She is only a Counselour. Like… a friend. She was there when it all happened, don’t you remember? When we found you. I hold her dearly in my heart.”

"Of course I do." Anakin admitted.

A laugh escaped me, unbidden, drawing Obi-Wan's gaze.

Our eyes locked. His features had matured too; the boyish charm was now cloaked in the guise of a man adorned with longer hair, a beard and broad shoulders.

"Haven't you come far?" He murmured, barely audible.

I did not respond.

_____________________________________________________________

The blaring alarms were the first thing to wake me.

My eyes fluttered open to a world out of focus. There was a harsh staccato of blaster fire.

Sounds and movements felt distant, as if I were submerged, fighting my way to the surface.

Yet, I felt the steady rhythm of being carried.

The firm grip was unmistakable, but it was the sight of a familiar face that sent a jolt through my body.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Great, I was finally hallucinating.

That wasn’t a memory I recalled. Or was I beginning to forget? I stared at him, trying to figure it out.

His eyes widened:

“She’s awake!”

Were we… running? My body felt like floating. But there was definitely wind, blowing in my hair.

“Go!” another familiar voice.

Anakin.

I looked over his shoulder, Anakin was running after us, blue lightsaber in hand. Red glowing shots flying over us.

I never fought in the Clone Wars before. Of course, I saw them fighting once or twice, while serving Padme. But I tried to not even look at them.

Jedi were heroic figures, but still, so self-centered. So righteous.

Ugh.

“Senator Caelora, stay awake.”

His voice sounded so clear. So real. Yet, I could not trust my ears. He laid me down behind something big.

“We’ll be right back.”

I forced myself to look up.

The dance of their lightsabers, Obi-Wan and Anakin Skywalker, slicing through the air against the Separatists, seemed almost surreal. Their movements blurred in and out of focus.

Then, as they fought, I felt that familiar sensation of sleepiness take hold, once again, and let it drag me.

When clarity finally broke through, I was met with the serene quiet of a ship's interior. The tranquility was disorienting. The cool, sterile air of the ship felt alien to me. I brought my hands to feel my face.

Harsh.

Hurt.

“Fuck.” I muttered, spotting blood in my fingers. Was I going to die? Finally.

His voice, soft and steady, pierced the veil of my fear. "You're safe now," he assured me.

I looked at him. What a strange dream. So surreal.

Yes, I was losing my mind.

“I don’t remember this,” I murmured. “Any of this. Are they toying with my mind now?” I pondered.

His eyes inspected me.

"This isn't a dream, nor a hallucination. You're here with us, Y/N, far from harm.”

“Are you saying that… you are real? And he is real?” I pointed to Anakin, driving the ship. Beside him, a blue and silver droid was talking binary.

“Yes.” His simple answer hit me like a punch. The ship's hum, the Jedi, and the droid's chatter—all came together into one clear truth: I was no longer in that cell; I was free.

"I... I can't believe I'm actually out," I whispered.

Obi-Wan moved slightly. He was always so calm. Even in my dreams. "It's a lot to take in after what you've been through," he acknowledged.

I glanced at Anakin again, seeking a semblance of the boy I once knew. "How did you find me?”

Obi-Wan's response was thoughtful, measured. "We received intelligence about your location."

I felt a swell of gratitude mixed with a pang of guilt; they had risked their lives for one person. "Thank you," I managed.

Obi-Wan offered a small, reassuring smile. "Rest. We’ll be on Naboo soon.”

"Naboo?" The name echoed strangely in my ears, unexpected and jarring. "Not Coruscant? Shouldn't I report to the Senate about what happened?"

Anakin chimed in without turning from the vast canvas of stars before us. "Padmé is waiting for us there. She's been worried sick about you," he said.

"But my duty to the Senate—" I started, only to be cut off by Obi-Wan's more forceful tone.

"What? Of course not. You've been through an ordeal. Rest is what you need now, not Senate debriefings."

His eyes met mine and the Jedi Master sighed.

"Just try to get some sleep," came the gentle suggestion.

For a moment, I just absorbed the words.

A smile, the first genuine one in what felt like an eternity, tugged painfully at the corners of my mouth.

"I've been sleeping all this time," I replied. "Please, don't make me."

The silence stretched between us. Then, he nodded, a slow, deliberate motion.

I laid on the improvised bed they made and stared at the window in the ceiling.

I never thought anyone was coming for me.

Months waiting, wishing to die. Or maybe I was there for less time than I expected. Maybe I had lost sense of the days.

Perhaps it was best not to know.

But after what felt like hours, curiosity took over me. "Master Kenobi," I called out. It bared a strange taste.

Sour.

"Yes?"

"How long has it been since I was captured?"

Silence followed. I could almost sense him weighing his word.

"Ten months and two weeks," he finally said.

My heart was pounding in my chest.

“And, how long have the Republic been trying to rescue me?”

"We've been attempting to locate you since we first learned of your capture. The exact intelligence about your whereabouts, however, only reached us recently."

Grievous knew what he was doing by capturing me. He knew Obi-Wan would come, somehow. And all of this time, they were already planning to rescue me?

It did not sound right.

“I must tell you…” I got up, my eyes focusing on his figure. He was sited not too far, one leg crossed over the other, his right hand on his beard. I realized he was observing me all this time.

“All this time...G-General Grievous searched my mind. And this Sith, using the Force, was looking for memories about….” I paused. “You. It looks like they're planning something, something against you, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan took in what I said with a serious look. "General Grievous is smart, we know that," he said, trying to keep his voice even. "But using a Sith to get into your mind, just to find information about me, that's something else. Do you remember his name?"

Then, for just a second, he looked away, like he was remembering something from a long time ago that he didn't want to think about. It made the moment feel a bit awkward.

I closed my eyes, trying to think.

“Darth.” Air came out of my lungs. “Darth… something. I don’t remember. ”

"We need to be really careful. What you went through, as tough as it was, it's given us a clue. They've accidentally given us a hint about what they're up to.”

"But Master Kenobi, they hate you. If they've targeted me to get to you, they won't hesitate to go after others. They're desperate for anything that can be used against you.”

“Don’t worry, Senator.” He opened a sarcastic smile. "Dealing with Sith is something of a specialty of mine. And as for Grievous, we've crossed paths more times than I care to count. His desire for revenge is hardly a revelation.”

“Just beware that they know about everything I know about you.” I tried to warn him without alarming Anakin. Jedi weren’t supposed to break their code. And Obi-Wan did, in the past. As a young, grieving, confused padawan. Still, he did. And now the enemy knew it as well.

His smile faltered.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat subtly, shifting in his seat.

"I appreciate your concern." His voice regained its steady tone. "But rest assured, the past... well, it's just that. The past." There was a dismissive wave of his hand.

This son of a bitch.

Well, if he wasn’t concerned, I would not dwell on this matter any further.

I nodded, turned and pretended to sleep.

____________________________________________________________

In the small space of the ship, their voices carried back to where I lay. I wasn’t trying to listen, but I couldn’t help catching bits of their conversation.

"What was she talking about? Does she know something about you?" Anakin seemed very curious.

Obi-Wan's response was measured. "It's nothing. "

"C'mon Obi-Wan. I can tell when you are lying."

"It's just something I did when I was a padawan. I'm not proud of it."

"Is it that bad?"

There was a brief pause before Obi-Wan replied.

"I guess it's not something you wouldn't do."

"Then it must be really bad."

Their laughter followed. But I could not smile.

He was not proud of that memory.

I wasn’t either.

But the way he casually brushed it off with Anakin left me feeling strangely alone in my thoughts. After months of reliving that night, it was odd to realize that the memories I’d held onto so tightly were just footnotes in his.

At least I was going home, I thought, and they would return to Coruscant and I would never have to feel this rage again.

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan #obi wan fanfic #obi wan fanfiction #stars wars #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction #obi wan x reader #obi wan x you #obi wan x y/n #youre so vain

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moeitsu · 5 months

Text

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 11 - And Felt The Pulse Beat Fast

Summary: Arthur and Hosea share meaningful conversation after a night of advertising some moonshine. Meanwhile Kate finds herself involved in a dubious mission with John and the boys. She patches up Arthur as the day ends with an air of unspoken desire.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

TW: Brief mention of suicide, body image issues, eating disorder. Period typical racism.

A/N: Another long one, ~8k words. The end had me giggling and kicking my feet. I hope you enjoy! Comments and criticism are always welcome :)

Tag List: @photo1030 @ariacherie @thatweirdcatlady @ultraporcelainpig **please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

Story Tags: Widowed, Original Character(s), High-Honor!Arthur Morgan, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby!Arthur Morgan, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort,Touch-Starved, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Infant Death, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Torture, Blood and Violence, Survivor Guilt, Aftermath of Torture, Caretaking, Injury Recovery, Period-Typical Racism, Anxiety, Self-Hatred, Night Terrors, Emotional Constipation, Self-Doubt, Men Crying, Bathing/Washing, Sweet/Hot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff

Kate and I met this strange young bastard, Beau, and his forbidden love Penelope. Poor kids are just lookin’ for freedom but they’re stuck in some old family feud they ain’t even a part of. We delivered some letters for them, Kate insisted on it. I gave her grief about it at first, but she was determined to go out of her way for these kids. Woman’s got a heart of gold.

Somehow, I ended up marching as a suffragette, the looks of loathing on the face of the locals amused me. I don’t know much about good causes, but I enjoyed my little experience riding alongside them. Kate showed me there’s more than one path, she chose to do the right thing and we still managed to gather some useful information.

She makes my head dizzy sometimes, this woman. Came right out and asked to kiss me again! I choked up bad. She’s always speaking her mind, like she ain’t afraid of nothing. I love that about her. I wanted to kiss her, but I knew I couldn’t. I just can not do that to her. She’s been through too much already, and she deserves a good man.

And I don’t deserve that kinda happiness.

Arthur woke the next morning with a heavy weight on his chest, the remnants of a sleepless night etched into the lines of his weary face. Kate's tender words echoed in his mind like a haunting melody, refusing to fade with the dawn. No one had spoken to him with such honesty and vulnerability in ages, and Arthur couldn't shake the memory of disappointment flickering in Kate's eyes when he couldn't reciprocate her feelings. As much as his heart longed to kiss and hold her again.

As he lay there, Arthur's thoughts drifted back to Mary, the woman he once loved. He recalled the night he proposed to her, the anticipation heavy in the air, only to be met with the sting of rejection. Mary wanted him to leave behind his life of danger, to embrace a quieter existence with her, far from the chaos of the gang. Arthur understood her desire for simplicity, but he couldn't abandon the gang; the family that needed him. He pleaded with Mary to join him, but she refused, unwilling to sever ties with her own family, especially her younger brother.

Now, years later, Arthur felt he had strayed too far down a path of darkness to ever deserve happiness again. The memory of Mary's rejection lingered as a painful reminder of his inability to change, to be the man she needed. He believed himself beyond redemption, resigned to a life devoid of the joy he once craved.

To his surprise, Kate appeared unfazed by Arthur's refusal the previous night. She greeted him in the morning with her usual warmth, as if their conversation had not left a lingering tension between them. They shared breakfast together, engaging in easy conversation that helped ease some of the weight on Arthur's shoulders. Kate mentioned that she had already discussed their findings with Hosea, who wanted to meet with Arthur later that evening regarding a potential job at the Braithwaite estate.

Her calm demeanor brought Arthur a sense of comfort amid his inner turmoil. As they finished their meal, Kate gracefully excused herself to resume her tasks with the other girls. She promised to join him for dinner as usual, maintaining their routine without skipping a beat. Arthur watched her go about her duties with a mixture of admiration and gratitude. Despite his fears of pushing her away, Kate seemed to understand. And didn’t think ill of him for it.

As the day unfolded, Arthur found himself immersed in a job orchestrated by Uncle—an opportunity to stage a simple yet lucrative payroll robbery. He teamed up with Charles and together they executed the heist with precision. The stagecoach robbery went off without a hitch, yielding a substantial sum that brought a brief sense of satisfaction to Arthur, feeling like a proper thief he was raised to be.

As the sun began its descent, Arthur sought out Hosea near the hidden stash of stolen moonshine. He detailed his failed attempt to sell back the stolen moonshine to the Braithwaites. Hosea recounted how they had approached the Braithwaite matriarch with an offer, only to be met with a cold rejection. The old woman haughtily declared that they deserved no reward for returning what she considered rightfully hers. Instead, in a spiteful act of retribution, she offered a meager ten dollars to distribute the moonshine for free at Mr. Gray's saloon.

Arthur was puzzled by the Braithwaite's response. Hosea clarified that it was a calculated move—a means of exacting revenge on the Grays and the town drunks. By turning the intoxicated patrons into even greater fools for the night, the Braithwaites hoped to incite chaos and leave Sheriff Gray to deal with the ensuing fallout.

Amidst the chaos of the moonshine-fueled night at Mr. Gray's saloon, Arthur assumed his familiar role as "Fenton," a persona he had adopted in previous schemes alongside Hosea. The act required him to play the part of Hosea’s younger idiot brother, who also happened to be mute. His only job was keeping glasses filled without uttering a single word. Though Arthur despised the charade, he couldn't suppress a chuckle at the absurdity of their antics—the lengths they would go to for a successful heist.

Draped in the guise of Fenton, Arthur navigated the rowdy patrons, handing out moonshine liberally as the atmosphere inside the saloon grew increasingly raucous. The scene was a stark reminder of earlier days, when he and Hosea were younger and life seemed simpler, despite the risks they took.

As the night wore on, the situation escalated when Sheriff Gray himself appeared, prompting Hosea and Arthur to spring into action. Shots rang out, echoing through the old saloon as lawmen pursued them. With practiced ease, they slipped through the back door, disappearing into the shadows and swiftly making their way to the waiting wagon. In the chaos that ensued, Arthur expertly handled their pursuers while Hosea skillfully guided the reins.

A small shootout erupted as the Grays chased them through the winding back roads and fields leading out of Rhodes. Arthur remained focused, taking down their adversaries while Hosea expertly navigated the terrain. The tension was palpable, the thrill of the night's escapade mingling with the danger of their flight.

Approaching the train tracks, Arthur spotted a train. With precise timing, they crossed just as the locomotive barreled through, cutting off their pursuers. The lawmen were left stranded on the other side, unable to follow.

Once they were safely beyond reach, away from the danger that had pursued them, laughter erupted between Arthur and Hosea. It was a release of pent-up tension, the adrenaline-fueled joy of a successful escape mingling with the shared camaraderie of outlaws.

“Remind me to never take up a career in…what was it? Bartending,” Arthur chuckled, glancing back at the remaining clinking bottles they were unable to distribute.

“I didn’t know they’d throw so much of a fuss over booze, this town is odd,” Hosea answered, shaking his head as he cracked the reins of the wagon.

Arthur furrowed his brow, considering the surplus moonshine. “What should we do with all the shine we still have left?”

Hosea’s expression turned grim. “That miserable Braithewaite woman wants us to burn the Grays' tobacco fields with it, I was hoping you and Sean could handle that tomorrow night.”

“Damn, ain’t that makin’ a bit too much noise? I thought we were tryin’ to lay low in all this. These fellas may be drunks and racists, but they ain’t afraid to kill, you saw them back there,” Arthur expressed his concern.

Hosea sighed, revealing a hint of hesitation. “Dutch thinks there's money in this somewhere. His plan is to get them all riled up on each other and use that as an opportunity to slip in and rob ‘em.”

Arthur fell silent, contemplating the dangerous path they were treading by getting involved in a longstanding blood feud. “Things could get real ugly, Hosea. Do you really think one of these families is sitting on a pile of money?”

“Can’t say. But the cash box is getting full again, Arthur. We’ve been doing well on making money. With just a bit more cash, we’ll be out of here,” Hosea replied, injecting a note of hope into the conversation. Sensing Arthur's unease, he changed the subject. “Kate told me about your adventures yesterday. How are things going between you two?”

As their wagon rattled down the road, illuminated by the soft glow of the full moon, Arthur felt a sense of comfort settle over him. He glanced over at Hosea, his trusted father figure, and knew that he could confide in him about anything. The old man had a way of understanding Arthur's thoughts and feelings without needing them spelled out.

Arthur shifted uneasily in his seat, rubbing his palms together nervously, the words weighing heavily on his mind. It wouldn't escape Hosea's notice that Arthur was quite sweet on Kate. After all, it had been Hosea's idea to pair them up for the day, hoping to give Arthur a chance to spend time with her away from the group.

“I kissed her the other night, when she was singin’ a lullaby for Jack,” Arthur began, the words spilling out into the night air like a secret long kept.“She… she wanted to kiss me again today and, I really wanted to, but I had to let her down easy,” He glanced over at Hosea, seeking some semblance of understanding in the old man's eyes.

Hosea raised an eyebrow in surprise, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You kissed her and ditched her? I thought I raised you better, son,” he teased, his tone light but laced with curiosity.

Arthur chuckled, though there was a tinge of self-deprecation in his amusement. “I know, I’m dumber than a bag of rocks.”

Hosea patted Arthur's shoulder reassuringly, his touch grounding. “You may be good at playing an idiot like Fenton,” he remarked, referencing their recent job, “but you’re a smart boy. What harm could come if you just let it happen and see where it takes you?”

With a heavy sigh, Arthur leaned back in the seat, his gaze drifting up to the blinking stars above, memories of Kate’s confession flooding his thoughts. “I just don’t wanna hurt her. And… I don’t wanna feel that kinda hurt again.”

Nodding in understanding, Hosea's expression softened with a paternal concern for the young cowboy. “I’m not gonna live forever, son. I’d just like to see you be happy with someone before I go.”

“I was happy once. I had a woman who loved me, and she left me because I couldn’t change for her.” Arthur admitted, his voice giving away the deep sorrow he still harbored about his young love.

“Mary was a good woman, I did like her. You were both so young and naive, still navigating your own lives,” Hosea mused, his voice carrying the weight of hindsight. His gaze softened with memories. “But I don’t think she was the right one for you. She couldn’t tame that wild heart of yours.”

Arthur listened, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, the wagon jostling over uneven terrain. “Sometimes, I feel like I can’t even tame it myself,” he confessed, his tone tinged with resignation.

Hosea's eyes twinkled with a knowing glint. “That's why you need someone strong enough to stand in the ring with you,” he remarked, his voice brimming with wisdom, “and face down the beast with a heart just as wild.”

Arthur nodded slowly, the words sinking in like stones dropped into a still pond. He mulled over Hosea's advice, feeling the weight of his own heart's desires. The night enveloped them in a cocoon of shared understanding, the stars above bearing witness to their quiet contemplation.

Arthur’s confession hung heavy in the air, his words weighed down by the burden of his past. “Once she knows what I’ve done, I don’t think she can forgive me for it,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, like a man confessing his sins.

Hosea let out a light scoff, his eyes bright with a hint of amusement. “Son, your bounty has been posted in almost every town in the west,” he remarked wryly. “She knows we’re outlaws, I think she’s probably aware you’ve killed some folk.”

Shaking his head slowly, Arthur gathered his thoughts, his gaze fixed on the horizon ahead. “No, no it ain’t that,” he muttered, his words heavy with hesitation. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “Kate told me ‘bout her family, how they all passed from accidents or disease. She even had to bury her own daughter. I just…” His voice trailed off, grappling with the weight of his own truth. “I just don’t know how to tell her about my own. About my son, Isaac. Or Eliza.”

Hosea leaned back against the wagon’s seat, his expression thoughtful. “What’s stopping you from telling her? That’s something you two have in common,” he pointed out gently.

“Because I–I can’t tell her I’m the reason they’re dead,” Arthur confessed, his voice thick with emotion. “Family means so much to her, she’d never forgive me for throwing it away.”

The old man regarded Arthur with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. “Son, if you’re so worried about her turning the other cheek on you, I think you need to tell her the truth,” Hosea advised, his tone earnest. “She’s going to find out eventually, and you know she’s a smart woman. She understands what you are and still chooses to be by your side. And I’d be surprised if she draws the line at something that happened in the past. You're too hard on yourself, Arthur. What happened to Eliza and Isaac was terrible, but it was not your fault.”

Arthur rarely spoke about his son, Isaac, even with Hosea, his closest confidant. The weight of their deaths bore heavily on his heart, like an anchor dragging him into the depths of guilt and regret. Isaac's passing had transformed Arthur into a different man, one hardened by grief and the burden of responsibility.

Hosea had witnessed the change in Arthur firsthand. Before the tragedy that befell Eliza and Isaac, Arthur was more carefree, with a spark of youthful innocence in his eyes. But as time wore on, a darkness crept into his demeanor, a shadow that never quite lifted. He carried their deaths like a scar, a permanent mark etched upon his soul.

In moments of vulnerability, Arthur would let slip glimpses of his sorrow, revealing the cracks in his stoic facade. He blamed himself for their deaths, convinced that if he had been a better man, a different man, things might have turned out differently. It was a burden he carried alone, tucked away behind layers of bravado and hardened resolve.

Hosea understood the depth of Arthur's pain, but he also recognized the resilience that lay beneath. Arthur's reluctance to share his grief spoke volumes about the depth of his sorrow. It was a wound that time could not heal, a wound that had shaped the man Arthur had become.

As the wagon turned down the familiar winding road that led to their camp, the night's chorus surrounded them with the faint hum of a crackling fire and the warm glow as it cast dancing shadows across the clearing.

Arthur broke the moment of silence, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I should’ve been there for them, Pa," he confessed, his eyes fixed on the dark silhouette of the trees passing by.

Hosea sighed, the years etched into the lines of his face. "Yes, son, but life has a way of throwing us off course, even when we try our best," he replied, his voice carrying the weight of wisdom earned through hardship. "This world can be cruel, as you well know."

"I can’t be a bad man and expect good things like Kate to happen to me. It just don’t work that way," Arthur continued, his words laced with self-doubt.

Hosea placed a reassuring hand on Arthur's shoulder, his touch a welcome comfort. "Kate sees something good in you, son," his tone was gentle yet firm. "Maybe it's time you started seeing it too."

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate scrubbed diligently, the soap creating frothy suds as she ran the bar along the stretched cotton over the washboard. She sat on a small stool in the shade beneath a sprawling tree, her trousers dotted with darkened spots from the splashing water. The air was heavy with heat, but the coolness of the water in the small washtub offered a brief respite. With each steady motion, her fingers became slightly more pruned from the repeated immersion.

Beside her, Mary-Beth was busy ringing out the soapy cloth and dipping it into a clean bucket, the rhythmic process mirroring Kate's own. The girls found solace in their shared task, engaged in easy conversation to while away the chore.

“So,” Kate began, a mischievous glint in her eye, “I saw you talking to Kieran the other day. Want to spill the beans on what’s really going on there?” She nudged Mary-Beth playfully with her knee.

The young girl looked down, a faint blush tinting her cheeks as she tried to hide her face from Kate's teasing gaze. “He was just curious about the book I was reading, that’s all,” she admitted bashfully, her voice carrying a hint of embarrassment.

Kate knew Mary-Beth's romantic tendencies well. From the moment they met, it was clear that she had a penchant for love affairs and romantic tales—her nose buried in romance novels and dreams of penning her own someday.

“That’s all?” Kate teased, a playful glint in her eye. “I see you watching him groom those horses every day. Somebody's got eyes for the O’Driscoll boy,” she added, splashing a bit of water in jest.

Mary-Beth retaliated with a laugh, “He ain’t an O’Driscoll!” Her grin gave away any attempt at concealing her feelings. She glanced over towards the horses, and Kate followed her gaze to where Kieran Duffy was tending to the animals. “He’s been talkin’ to me a lot recently. I just think he’s sweet.”

Kate's eyes lingered on the scene, noticing Lenny and Javier saddling their horses nearby, while John caught her gaze as he approached them.

Just as Kate was about to respond, John called out to her, “Kate! You busy right now?”

She looked up, eyes squinting as the sun glowed behind his frame. She gestured with open palms towards the wash bin. “You need somethin’?” she asked.

John tipped his hat to Mary-Beth, who waved politely in return. “We’re heading out to the Braithwaite manor to check out some horses. Thought you might wanna come,” he explained, nodding back to where Lenny and Javier were waiting.

Kate chuckled, her tone lighthearted. “You plan on stealing them or something?”

John crossed his arms casually, “well, you know,” he trailed, “if the opportunity presents itself.” Not bothering to hide their dubious intentions. Kate has to remind herself sometimes that she is running with outlaws. For them, a job doesn't mean checking out the goods, it means stealing goods.

He cleared his throat and explained the situation seriously, “some fella from the Gray family told us he’d pay to have their horses stolen. Also mentioned they go for $1000 a piece.”

Kate raised a brow of suspicion, “and you believe him?”

John only shrugged, “it's worth looking into.”

She waved him off with a touch of concern, “I don’t want no trouble John, I’m sure you boys will manage fine without me.”

John persisted, his voice reassuring. “It won’t be no trouble at all. We’ll be in and out, they won’t even know we’re there,” he said, adding an enticing detail, “word is they got some pretty nice gypsy horses. Real purebreds too.”

Kate found herself caught in the web of temptation. Stealing horses was not something she relished, but the promise of seeing such a purebred up close was alluring. If they pulled it off successfully, she knew the money would help the gang alot. She figured it wouldn't be so bad to help them in one little heist.

As if Mary-Beth could sense her conflicting ideas, she interrupted the silence, "I can finish up here, Kate. You should go. They'll have a better chance of pulling it off with you." She winked knowingly, seeming to support Kate's unspoken decision.

She made up her mind, fixing John with a pointed look. "No trouble," she repeated firmly, more as a command than a question.

"No trouble," John assured her with a nod of understanding.

Kate wiped her damp arms across her shirt, bidding Mary-Beth farewell and promising to catch up with her later. As she approached her midnight mare, the horse whinnied in recognition, sensing the upcoming adventure. Javier and Lenny greeted her from their saddles, both looking ready for action.

Javier tipped his hat with a charming smile. "Nice of you to join us, cariño," he said, his tone warm and inviting.

Kate swiftly mounted her horse, adjusting herself in the saddle. "You boys better hope this goes smoothly," she remarked with a playful smirk, her eyes scanning the group with a hint of caution.

Lenny rode his stallion closer to Kate's, "I gotta say, having you with us doubles our luck, don't you think?" he replied, his tone light-hearted but with an underlying sense of confidence.

She smiled fondly. Together the four of them took off down the lush green path and onto the dirt road. Kate was glad for the invitation, it made her feel good that the gang trusted her enough to include her in such tasks, that they were confident in her ability to work alongside them. She felt a new sense of trust among them, and camaraderie. She felt like she was becoming a real member, and not just some lone traveler like she had been nearly a month ago.

The journey to the Braithwaite manor was uneventful, the cool breeze of the afternoon air was refreshing against their skin as they rode. As they arrived at the manor from the south side, away from the prying gaze of the property guards. The grand estate loomed before them, a testament to the family's wealth and power. They dismounted their horses in a secluded spot, ensuring they wouldn't draw too much attention.

Kate's mind wandered briefly, wondering if Penelope would be out in her gazebo enjoying the afternoon sun.

John's voice interrupted her thoughts, his tone matter-of-fact as he laid out the plan. "Let's keep this nice and easy. No need to rush. We're here on behalf of a buyer, looking to make a significant investment," he explained as they followed him toward the barn.

Outside the stable doors, a worker paused in his tasks, eyeing them with suspicion. "Can I help you fellas?" he asked, his tone wary.

"I hope so," John replied amiably, trying to appear non-threatening. "Heard you got some horses?"

"We always got horses," the man responded gruffly.

"Fine horses, I mean," John clarified.

The worker's expression soured, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at the group. "I don't know whatchu’ talkin' 'bout, friend. Why don't you take that hoyden wench, yer greaser buddy, and his darkie friend and get off the property ‘fore I blow your face off," he retorted, spitting at their feet.

Kate raised her eyebrows in surprise at the man's unabashed racism and arrogance toward strangers. Suddenly understanding Tilly’s hesitation about being so far south. Javier quickly raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Whoa, take it easy there, amigo," he interjected, trying to diffuse the tension.

John remained unfazed by the man's hostility. "Come on now, partner. We're just looking to do some business. Inquire about a purchase," he persisted.

The worker let out an annoyed sigh. "Fine, follow me, Scarface," he grumbled, the insults never ceasing.

The ranch hand, ever welcoming, led them into the barn, his voice a steady stream of information about the horses—names, breeds, and abilities. She noticed they were not the purebreds John had heard rumors about. Still beautiful, strong horses nonetheless.

Kate observed John and Javier exchanging a look as they walked deeper into the dimly lit space. When the man paused to pet a horse, John subtly motioned to Javier, who deftly moved behind the unsuspecting worker.

Meanwhile, Lenny smoothly interjected with feigned interest. "Wow, look at the balls on that one," he chuckled, pointing in another direction. The ranch hand followed his gaze, oblivious to the danger lurking behind him.

With his back turned, Javier seized the opportunity, drawing his pistol from his belt. "Greaser, huh?" he muttered bitterly before striking the bottom of the iron against the man's head, knocking him out instantly. John and Javier wasted no time, swiftly moving the unconscious body to a hidden spot while Lenny began unlocking the stable gates.

Kate stood in stunned silence for a moment, her voice barely audible as she tried to suppress her surprise. "What happened to nice and easy?" she muttered.

Her comment elicited a chuckle from Lenny, who had already mounted one of the horses. "Can't get any easier than this. Let’s try to get 'em out of here without drawing too much attention," he replied casually.

Despite her swirling thoughts and unease, Kate pushed her concerns aside and mounted one of the horses. Following the three bandits out of the barn, she joined them as they sped off through the sprawling property, the rush of adrenaline mixing with a sense of trepidation.

The thundering hooves of their stolen horses echoed through the property. Behind them, shouts and the pounding of boots indicated that their presence had been discovered. Several ranch hands emerged from the buildings, brandishing rifles and shouting warnings.

John, Kate, Javier, and Lenny spurred their horses into a full gallop, kicking up dust and dirt as they raced across the open fields. The pursuing ranch hands fired off a few rounds in their direction, but the distance and the speed of their mounts made accurate shooting difficult.

As they reached the fence at the edge of the property, they leapt over the barrier. The group plunged into a dense thicket of trees, the branches clawing at their faces and clothes. The sounds of pursuit faded behind them as the guards were forced to slow down and eventually give up the chase. They whistled loudly, and soon their own horses caught up and began to follow in tow.

Javier led the way as they made their way through the landscape to find the supposed buyers at Clemens Cove.

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The encounter with the buyers proved to be an intriguing yet unsettling experience. They were met by a pair of brothers who seemed to operate in uncanny harmony, sometimes speaking in unison and shrouding their business with secrecy. Details about their clientele and operations were kept hidden, with only a vague promise that one of them would be available for future dealings, if they wished to become business partners.

During the negotiation, one of the brothers made a direct offer to purchase Kate’s prized black Hungarian outright, offering her a substantial sum. However, Kate politely declined without hesitation. Her bond with the mare ran deep, and no amount of money could sway her decision to part with her cherished companion.

The brothers’ offer of 50 cents on the dollar for the stolen horses was not quite what John had anticipated, but it still amounted to a respectable deal given the circumstances.

After concluding their business at Clemens Cove, the posse set off back towards the rolling plains. The sun had dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm and serene glow over the lush green hills. Their horses trotted steadily along the trail as the landscape unfolded around them, painted in hues of amber and gold, as they made their way back to camp.

"Hoyden wench…" Kate echoed with a chuckle, mimicking the ranch hand's harsh drawl. "I've been called a lot of things, but that sure is a first."

Javier, riding alongside her, piped up from the saddle, his expression puzzled. "What the hell does that mean, anyway?"

Lenny let out an exasperated sigh. " 'Wench' was a term used by slavers for black women. And 'hoyden' means she's too much of a 'tomboy’,'' he explained.

"Well, I can understand the 'tomboy' part, but she's not even—"

"Doesn't matter, amigo," John interjected, his tone matter-of-fact. "If ya skin ain't as white as a baby's bottom, it's all the same to them."

Kate nodded in agreement, her thoughts drifting back to the locals she had observed while running letters with Arthur. Witnessing their prejudice up close and personal was a stark reminder of the challenges faced by Lenny and Tilly in this region. As a woman of Italian descent, her skin carried a honey-brown hue, bronzed by the Lemoyne sun. Even this slight difference posed a threat to the narrow-minded locals, a reality that churned her stomach with discomfort.

"I'm ‘bout ready to get the hell out of dodge," Lenny added, his voice tinged with exasperation. "Speakin’ of racist hillbillies, Javier and I are heading out to Shady Belle. Got a tip there's some raiders sittin’ on guns and ammo. You guys want in?" He turned to John and Kate with a casual invitation.

Kate shook her head, "thanks Lenny, but I think I'll pass this time."

John chimed in with a polite refusal. "As much as I love killing racists, I gotta get back to Abigail for dinner."

Javier and Lenny exchanged nods of understanding. "No worries, compadres," Javier replied. "We'll catch up with you later."

As they bid farewell, Kate and John veered onto the familiar dirt path that led back to Clemens Point.

The gentle melody of song birds and the steady pounding of hooves on the dry soil filled the atmosphere. Before they could approach the camp, John's voice broke the peaceful ambiance.

"Hey, I know I sound stupid for saying this, but thank you for being a friend to Abigail. All of this has been really hard on her," he explained, his tone earnest and reflective. He glanced ahead, his thoughts drifting to his woman back at camp. "I know it may not look like it, but I'm trying—I'm working on being the kind of father she wants me to be and the husband she needs."

Kate gave him a sympathetic look, her eyes softening. “You don't sound stupid, John. This life ain’t easy for nobody, especially when there's a child in the mix.” She was slightly surprised to hear him open up to her.

John sighed, his expression heavy with regret. “Still, I know you and I ain’t all that close, but, I did somethin’ pretty bad. I worry she might never forgive me for it.”

With a sideways glance, Kate nodded reluctantly. “Yeahhh, Abigail already told me ‘bout all that.”

“Shit, she did?” John's eyes widened in surprise.

She couldn't help but chuckle, a hint of mischief in her voice. “Oh yeah, she’s told me everything John.” Abigail didn't babble to Kate just for the sake of gossip; she understood that Abigail needed someone to confide in, someone to listen and truly hear her. She needed to feel seen, heard, and understood. Especially in times like these.

“Well goddamn, now I feel like a proper dumbass.”

“She still loves you, John, and your boy does too. But love doesn’t come for free—it takes a lot of effort. Keep pushin’ to be a better man, she sees your effort. I promise you.” Kate's words were gentle yet firm,

"Thanks, Kate. Say, you’ve been ridin’ with us for a while now. You think you’re stickin’ ‘round for the long haul?” John asked, his tone curious.

Kate shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “I can’t say for certain. But for now, that’s the plan. Never thought I’d be workin’ with outlaws, but I guess it’s sometimes kinda fun,” she replied, hinting at their recent endeavor. Though petty horse theft was one thing, running from the law for murder was another.

“I noticed you and Arthur get along pretty well. He the reason you're stayin’ put?” John probed further. No doubt trying to get a grasp on his brother's affairs.

“Arthur’s a bit of a mystery to me. But we’re just friends, is all,” Kate answered, her tone casual yet guarded. She knew things between her and Arthur were only just beginning, but it was still undoubtedly complicated. The fact that some of the members had taken notice of their relationship sparked a tinge of worry.

“You’re a tough woman to read sometimes,” he smirked, the scar on his cheek crinkled slightly. “Well, whatever the case. Take care of yourself, ya hear?” He expressed a genuine smile as he rode ahead back into camp.

Kate followed behind, the aroma of Pearson’s signature stew filling her lungs with its savory fragrance. She left Lorena to graze peacefully among her own four-legged companions and headed toward the chuck wagon, eager to enjoy a well-earned meal after a day filled with adventure. The camp was alive with the usual sounds—crackling fire, distant chatter, and the occasional whinny of horses—creating a familiar and comforting backdrop to the evening.

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As Arthur returned to camp under the blanket of stars, the world seemed silent except for the faint rustle of night creatures and the distant crackle of a dying fire. He dismounted his mare with practiced quiet, the shadows of night his ally in avoiding unwanted company.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on him, his frustration palpable in the tight set of his jaw and the weariness etched in his movements. Tonight, he had no patience for idle chatter or bullshit from the guys. Especially the ones awake at this hour.

Burning the tobacco fields with Sean had proven to be no easy task. Though never any job orchestrated by Dutch ever was. It was nights like these where Arthur questioned when all the shooting and robbing would end. What the point of it all was.

Behind his tent, the open end of the wagon served as a makeshift wall. Arthur rummaged through crates, finding what he needed—a needle, thread, alcohol, and cloth. Wincing as he prodded the bullet graze just under his armpit.

“I’m gettin’ too old for this shit” he mumbled to himself.

Getting shot had never been part of Arthur's plan on any job. He prided himself on his quick draw and accuracy, always aiming to fire first and hit his mark before danger could strike him. But shooting under cover of night, navigating through a blazing tobacco field while avoiding being burned alive—such challenges could make even the finest gunslinger stumble.

The guards had descended upon them as soon as the smoke rose, but Sean had urged them to press on, insisting they keep pouring the moonshine without hesitation. Arthur couldn't help but worry that the young Irishman's ambition might one day lead him into an early grave.

Surprisingly, the only injury Arthur had sustained was a bullet graze, still needing a few stitches but nothing life-threatening. Meanwhile, Sean had returned unscathed, already regaling their escapade around the campfire with a bottle in hand.

Under the cool night air, Arthur peeled off his sweat-dampened shirt, the chill of the air contrasting sharply with the warmth of his body. The lantern's dim glow cast shadows, highlighting the glistening of sweat on his chest and stomach.

He dipped the cloth into the alcohol, its sharp scent biting into his senses. As he attempted to clean the wound tucked under his arm, frustration crept in. The injury was beyond his line of sight, a challenge exacerbated by his own size.

Placing one arm against the side of the wagon for support, Arthur tried again, unaware of Kate's quiet approach behind him amidst the backdrop of the night's stillness.

“Need some help there, big guy?” Kate's voice was endearing, soft, almost motherly. The tone made Arthur's knees weak and his face grow warm.

Startled, Arthur nearly leapt out of his skin, quickly lowering his arm and stepping back, almost out of the lamplight. The nickname, though used innocently, stirred something akin to shame in his belly.

"What're you doin' up?" Arthur asked, attempting to appear unbothered.

Kate shrugged, her demeanor relaxed. "Couldn’t sleep. I was brushing Lorena when I saw you come in. Figured I’d say hi," she explained. "You want some help with that?" She gestured to where small trickles of blood traced down his side, her eyes lingering slowly over his bare torso.

If it weren’t for the cover of night, Kate would have seen the deep blush that crept up to his ears. "I think I’ll be alright," Arthur managed, his mouth suddenly dry.

Kate took a step closer, her gaze shifting to his shirt hanging from the side of the wagon, a round, deep red stain contrasting against its usual pale blue.

"Well, it sure don't look alright," she noted, her eyes returning to his side. "Tough spot to reach too."

Arthur's breath quickened. "I’m fine, don’t worry 'bout me," he replied, a hint of nervousness creeping into his tone.

Kate only brushed him off with a playful wave of her arm, “oh quit it! You stitched me up before, let me return the favor.” Before Arthur could react she placed a gentle hand on his bicep, “here, turn around.” She said quietly.

He complied, turning his back to her. His body froze when her fingers returned with the wet alcohol cloth. Barely noticing the sting, as her hands alone felt like fire against his cold skin. Her warmth is intoxicating.

A moment's silence embraced them, and Arthur prayed she couldn’t hear the beat of his heart as it raced in his chest.

Her words startled him from his thoughts, “see, ain’t so bad,” her tone soft like she was comforting a child. “Why’d ya hesitate?” A hint of curiosity and concern filled her voice from behind him.

Arthur lowered his head slightly, “I um, well I know I ain’t much to look at.” He mumbled.

Kate continued to clean his wound tenderly, “what do you mean by that?”

He let out a deep sigh, there was no point in being dishonest with her, “I…I just don’t like folk seein’ me without a shirt. I ain’t what I used to be. I’m gettin’ old, gettin’ heavy too.” His hand subconsciously rubbed over his belly.

Arthur's weight was his biggest insecurity, a constant reminder of his struggles and the pain he carried. Years had passed since Eliza and Isaac's deaths, but part of him had withered away back then. The guilt had gnawed at him, devouring his spirit day by day. He sought solace in alcohol, drowning himself in the numbness it offered. His relationship with food became a twisted dance of indulgence and deprivation.

Some days, he ate to fill the emptiness inside, seeking comfort in the fleeting sensation of fullness. Other days, food seemed an enemy, a symbol of his lack of control. He despised his belly, the way it was soft and curved, a stark contrast to the man he once knew in the mirror. His size served as a relentless reminder of his deepest failure, haunting him with each glance.

Each morning he woke, Arthur grappled with the weight of existence. The world, in its merciless ways, kept him breathing, a living monument to his own remorse. He often wondered if the world would be better off without him, a sentiment that lingered like a dark cloud over his soul.

Kate sensed Arthur's tension, the silent turmoil that echoed beneath the pads of her fingers as she tended to his wound. She felt the subtle movement of his muscles, synchronized with the rise and fall of his breath. "You're a strong man, Arthur. Age and scars don't make you any less handsome," she reassured him with genuine honesty, her voice a soothing balm.

With practiced ease, Kate finished cleaning his wound and reached for the needle and thread. She gently maneuvered his arm to rest on the side of the wagon, adjusting her position for a better angle to begin stitching. Arthur's nerves betrayed him, his hand clenching into a tight fist at his side as he tried to compose himself. His head felt dizzy, as if he had been holding his breath all this time.

"I reckon you're just sayin' that to be kind," Arthur finally admitted, his self-doubt palpable in the air.

Kate chuckled softly, the sound carrying warmth and sincerity. "I've met my fair share of ugly bastards in my lifetime, but believe me, you are certainly not one of them," she assured him, her voice like a gentle flame against his skin. Her words were a rare gift, stirring something deep within him that he had long kept hidden. Arthur closed his eyes briefly, letting her words sink in.

"You're a very handsome cowboy, wrinkles, scars, size and all. I think you're a lovely man," Kate affirmed, her words carrying a sincerity that tugged at Arthur's heart. "Besides, I know I'm not the picturesque woman myself. I'm no stranger to the cruel effects of time and livin' rough. Today, I was even called a ‘hoyden wench’ by some bona fide racist ranch hand," she added with a light laugh, as if brushing off the insult.

Kate had a way of making Arthur feel like they had known each other for a lifetime. Since the day she opened up to him about her life, she had been unapologetically honest with him. It was as if she already knew she could trust him with her personal tragedies.

Hosea's words echoed in Arthur's mind, a comforting reminder of the wisdom his old father figure imparted. Hosea simply wanted happiness for him—not wealth in money, but richness in love. He wanted Arthur to find purpose and meaning in life, to share that journey with another soul.

As Kate's needle deftly worked the thread through his skin, Arthur felt a warmth bloom in his chest. Kate's words eased a heavy burden, if only momentarily.

He shrugged his shoulders slightly, summoning the courage to speak. “Well, I’ll say this. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with a lady who can hold her own,” he began, his voice laced with sincerity. “You’ve got a strength and beauty that’s hard to come by. I think it’s pretty admirable.”

Kate giggled softly, the sound sending a warm flutter through Arthur’s chest. “Thanks, Arthur. First time I’ve heard that in a while,” she replied, her eyes meeting his.

Arthur marveled at how he had summoned the courage to kiss her the other night, feeling as if he could barely face her now. Yet, if she leaned in to kiss him at this moment, he knew he would succumb to his desire, despite what he had told her before. She lit a fire in him.

“S’true. You’re the prettiest girl in the whole damn holler,” Arthur said, unable to hide the light chortle that escaped him.

Kate leaned closer, her breath tickling his neck as she whispered, “You have quite a sweet side, Arthur. I adore that about you,” her hand lightly squeezing his arm.

His heart swelled, and Arthur knew this was the moment. He needed to tell her, despite the nerves that threatened to overpower him. Hosea may have been right; she had stayed by his side despite everything. But as he searched for the words, unsure of how to broach the subject, his nerves got the better of him once again. There was never an easy way to say it. Just the memories of them alone felt like acid in his throat.

Kate took a step back, placing her tools down on the back of the wagon. “I reckon I’m about done stitching this. Try to stay out of the crossfire next time, yeah?” She teased, holding up his bloody shirt with a knowing look as she handed it back to him.

Arthur felt a pang of regret. “Wasn’t my intention to get shot,” he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. He slipped the shirt over his shoulders, tugging the sleeves down his arms.

“Nobody intends to get shot,” Kate mused, taking a step back to give him space.

Turning to face her, Arthur was struck by the sight of her eyes, a sadness that mirrored his own that evening under the moonlit sky when they kissed. His heart throbbed at the sight. Since the day he met her at Emerald Ranch, she had a welcoming presence that drew him in, along with a deep sorrow that resonated with his own. It was as if she knew him before she even met him.

He looked down, running a hand over the back of his neck. “I appreciate your help, darlin’,” he murmured. Then, letting out a deep breath, he added, “though, I really don’t deserve it.”

Kate brushed off his self-doubt. “Don’t fuss over it, Arthur. I’m here whenever you need a hand,” she assured him. “I think you should get some rest though; from Sean’s stories, it sounds like it’s been a long day.”

Arthur nodded silently, watching as Kate bid him farewell and faded back into the night. His heart silently begged, please don’t go. But she was gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts under the blanket of stars.

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Kate lay beneath the star-studded sky, her eyes fixed on the milky purple and white swirl above, like celestial clouds in motion. Her heart echoed the rhythm of hooves against her ribs. Thoughts of Arthur filled her mind, his presence vivid in her thoughts.

The image of his body lingered before her, along with the stories he shared about himself. A longing surged within her to reveal how beautiful she found him, to explore him with kisses and her wandering hands.

Patience wavered as a persistent ache in her belly reminded her of the closeness she craved. Intimate moments with Arthur kindled her core, igniting a blaze of desire. Each quiet, vulnerable encounter with him deepened their connection. Funny how his true colors always showed when he was alone with her.

Kate smiled to herself, feeling a rush of desire she hadn't known for what felt like a century. As good as she was on her own. She felt like life had finally granted her an anecdote to her lonely heart.

---

AN: Phew, its out there. I know that was pretty dialogue heavy, so I hope I didn't bore you guys. Next chapter is going to be a long one, and may take me awhile. But it will be worth it, I promise!

As always, thanks for all the love!

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