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daechwitatamic · 3 months

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Of Ruin: Chapter 16 || KTH

(banner by @itaeewon)

Of Ruin (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni Genre: vampire!au magic!au royalty!au, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut, angst and fluff

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of a world on the brink of civil war… and the love you start to feel for the prince.

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @sailoryooons for betaing!!! 💕

Section Warnings: ig major character death but that’s kind of a technicality, vampire biting, blood drinking, vampire biting, fangwarming??? lmfao, fluff, what i hope is a plot twist lol wc: 5.1k

The passage behind the thrones leads to a corridor not far from Taehyung’s wing. It’s close to the section of rooms that are meant to be yours now. Yours, for your new life as an Infracti. For your new life as the King’s sperasa, until you become Queen.

You’d agreed that doing the ritual in your wing would be best, so that they won’t have to transport you - newly turned, probably unconscious - through the palace.

You are afraid.

You let yourself feel it, don’t deny yourself the right to float in the crawling sensation of terror clawing its way up from your stomach. Taehyung’s hand in yours can’t dispel it. Your pride in him and your love for him, mighty as they are, can’t dispel it.

You’ve become accustomed to fear in your time here. You press on.

In your main room, still unfamiliar to you, Taehyung holds you close, one hand on the back of your head and the other around your waist. You let him hold you, close your eyes.

“Brave,” he whispers.

“I don’t feel very brave,” you admit quietly.

A knock on the door comes and the Queen enters, followed by Jimin. Behind him is Seokjin of Score, and Namjoon. Taehyung arranged all of this once you and Dr. Kim had explained what would be needed.

Namjoon finds you and approaches, face solemn.

“You ready?” he asks quietly as you look over the written countercurse together.

“Have to be,” you say. “Are you?”

He nods. “We can do this,” he asserts.

“And then you get to go home,” you say.

He nods, looking up at you from the parchment. “I’m going as soon as we can confirm it worked,” he tells you, a bit of apology in his tone. Like he’s sorry he isn’t staying with you - even though there’s no way he could.

“Good,” you say, meaning it. “Tell your grandfather… Thank you for everything. And… Thank you, too. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

“It was an honor,” he says, quietly, then adds, “I’m grateful, too.”

You feel yourself choking up, and you will it away. You need to be clear-headed, professional. There isn’t room for this - not now. You’ll have to be sad later. Still, you tell him, “I hope I can come see you both soon. I’ll try - as soon as I’m able to be around humans.”

He smiles sadly. “Don’t come until you’re sure you won’t eat us.”

“I promise,” you say, smiling a little.

He regards you seriously again. Behind him, Taehyung seems to be organizing the items you’d asked for, going over the directions again. Namjoon says, “This might be goodbye for a while, huh?”

“If the countercurse works,” you agree.

You both seem to hover on the precipice of a hug goodbye. In the end, he gives you a final clap on the shoulder, and then the plan is lurching into motion around you.

The Queen has the things you need - the metronome, a jar of ashes.

You set the metronome to a slow rate, and then usher everyone into place in the open space of the room. Then, you sprinkle the ashes in a perfect circle around the group, locking you in with the magic. No one speaks. They just watch you work, ranging from curious to subdued.

When the circle is perfect, you pull out the parchment with the countercurse and explain one last time.

“This is the point, right here,” you say, pointing and showing the paper around the group of Infracti, “when Namjoon will take over the incantation. The ashes will keep the magic close-by, but you need to close the circle as quickly as possible or we’ll lose the connection.”

“We’ve got it,” Seokjin assures you, steady. “Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” you say, pulse thundering. You wish there was anything you could do to stall. You wish there was a blanket you could pull over your head. You wish there was someone from the future who could come tell you that everything would work out, that things would go as you intend.

“If anything goes wrong,” you add, “break contact as fast as you can, and break the circle of ashes to let the magic out. The quicker the better.”

It is the Queen - though, she is not that anymore, now that her son has been crowned - who lays a cool hand on your arm.

“Nothing will go wrong,” she tells you evenly. “We are all here beside you.”

You nod, wordless.

“I’m going to start, then,” you say, but you have to clear your throat once to make it audible.

You mutter a spell you’d looked up just for this, and your parchment obeys the command, hovering mid-air between you and Namjoon, supported by nothing. Namjoon stands to your right and the Queen to your left, and you press your palms to theirs. With everyone in place, you make a perfect circle, with Taehyung straight across.

“Breathe with the beat of the metronome,” you instruct. “Inhale… exhale…”

You breathe in time with everyone around you until you feel your magic rise up, flowing out to mingle with theirs. It takes some time before you feel ready to start the incantations; with Taehyung all the way across the circle it takes a few minutes before you feel his magical signature touch yours through the flow of everyone else’s. But it is unmistakable when he does, the warmth and belonging that accompany the sensation couldn’t be from anyone else.

When you feel like your magic and his are secure, thoroughly immersed with each other, you begin the incantation. You speak slowly and carefully, feeling the familiar sensation of the curse beginning to untangle. You keep your eyes on the page, try not to get distracted by the others.

There is no room for error - you can’t die twice.

There is no snag this time, no pull behind your navel that tells you the curse is fighting back. When you say your last line, you take your hands from those next to you and step into the circle.

Across from you, Taehyung steps forward too.

Around you, the remaining four step closer and fill the gaps you’d left behind, their hands meeting to close a small circle around you and Taehyung. Namjoon’s deep voice picks up the incantation where you left off. He’s borrowing, pulling magic from the Queen and from Jimin, who flank him.

You meet Taehyung’s eyes. Your heart is in your throat. There is so much you want to say to him. That you love him. That you trust him. That he’s worth this sacrifice.

You can’t speak, though, not during the incantation. Instead, you step close to him, breathe him in, and let him envelop you.

He wraps his arms around you, just as he had before everyone else had entered your rooms. He would have to hold tight, he’d warned you, to keep you from moving too much when your body began to instinctively fight him. And then, after, to hold you up when your legs inevitably give out.

He’d also warned you it would hurt.

You are afraid.

You are afraid, but Taehyung is cradling you between his arms like you are precious, so you take a breath and nod.

Taehyung leans down and nuzzles the spot on your neck that he tends to favor. You stifle your cry when his fangs puncture you, letting out a mangled groan of agony through gritted teeth. You’re glad for his inhuman hold around your back, because your knees do go weak for a moment before you will them back into compliance.

There is no pulling sensation, and no welcome rush of venom. Instead, Taehyung’s hands tighten around you like a warning and then the location of his bite goes white hot.

You hear yourself scream.

The heat spreads, up your neck, down your chest. Your eyes roll back, your throat rasps as your scream continues. Your legs give out, useless beneath you.

You feel yourself start to fight, hands clawing at Taehyung’s sides, body beginning to twist and tug. Taehyung’s hold is true, and you get nowhere. Your lungs burn and your scream dies to a whimper before starting anew after you drag in a breath.

Everything is on fire - from head to toe you are aflame. Your muscles strain to aching as your body tries and tries to wrench itself away from the pain.

Darkness creeps in the edge of your unfocused vision as you kick fruitlessly at Taehyung’s immoveable legs. You hear yourself gasping out sobs between shrieks of pain. You can see less and less, the black swirling at the edges of your vision taking over by the second.

Before the darkness closes in on you, you will yourself to focus, choke down the next scream that crawls up your throat.

You want to see him. You want to see him before you die.

Your eyes fight to find him against the blurriness, and you blink away tears. His mouth is wet with your blood and his cheeks are wet with tears, but when he sees you looking at him, he presses his forehead to yours, and his hands on your back unclench and soothe up and down instead.

There he is, you think. My King. My love. And then you let the darkness come.

—

Taehyung looks around the meeting room, then closes his eyes and rubs a hand down his face.

His cabinet, a mix of his father’s people and some of his own, wait him out.

“Three weeks,” he repeats hollowly.

The Infracti he directs that at nods. “Yes, Maiesti. The council needs time to deliberate. This is, as you know, a bit unprecedented.”

Taehyung purses his lips. It’s true; never before has a King - or former King, technically - been put to trial. Dethroned, murdered, cast away - yes. But not like this - a trial, a ruling of guilt, a council deliberating on what sentence he should serve. A sentencing that could take nearly a month, apparently.

“Very well,” Taehyung frowns. “And what of the other trials?”

An uneasy look passes through the room.

Taehyung sighs. “I asked for this myself,” he points out. “You don’t need to be afraid to talk to me about it.”

A woman at the table inclines her head in deference to her king. “Your trial has been scheduled the week after your father’s sentencing. We thought we ought to give you time to help your sperasa recover.”

That’s where Taehyung would rather be right now, in your dark rooms with you, and everyone in his cabinet knows it.

“Thoughtful,” he murmurs, because it is, because it’s not his cabinet’s fault that he murdered innocent humans while under the power of the curse, not their fault that he wants to answer for it.

“Hoseok and I will be fully prepared to represent your defense by then,” a dark-haired Infracti seated near Jin tells him. “I’m confident in our outcome.”

They move on to discuss the third trial - Seokjin’s father, the leader of the Scores. Seokjin listens politely, but the tips of his ears go red until the topic changes.

Taehyung ticks the trials off in his head, all three, ducks in a row.

“Let’s meet in four days’ time,” Taehyung suggests, glancing around to see if anyone objects. “The trials were my first order of business, but we have a lot of work to do restructuring things around here.”

Everyone at the table nods, and once Taehyung gives a few cabinet members specific directions for tasks to handle in the next week, they disperse.

“Off to see your feral beast?” Jimin teases, as he and Taehyung follow the trickle of people out into the corridor.

Taehyung can’t help but grin, big and boxy. “I like her like this. I’ll almost be sad when she settles down again.”

Jimin laughs at this. “It’s only been a week since you turned her. You have at least another week or two before she calms down.”

Taehyung’s expression slides into a grimace. “Hopefully I’ll still be around once she’s settled and not rotting in the palace prison.”

Jimin’s face goes unreadably blank. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” he says, suddenly somber and quiet. “You’re the King. You could call it off - no one could say anything.”

Taehyung shakes his head. “I need to.”

Jimin purses his full lips at him, but doesn’t retort. Taehyung thinks that Jimin understands, even if he doesn’t like it.

“Yoongi will defend you well,” he says finally. “I’m sure the sentencing will be light.”

“I want the sentencing to be fair,” Taehyung says petulantly. “That’s the whole point.”

“It will be,” Jimin argues. “You were cursed. No one is going to hold that against you.”

Taehyung twists his mouth but doesn’t address this. They’ve been walking as they talk, and they near the doors that lead to your rooms. They’re heavily guarded - Taehyung counts seven Infracti but he knows there are more - mostly to keep you inside.

Jimin tells him goodbye, and the guards move to let him enter. He’s careful to slip through the crack in the doors quickly; the guards are careful to be ready, just in case you get through.

Your rooms are dark, the lamps all unlit, the heavy curtains closed and drowning out any sunlight that might filter through. Normally, Taehyung might expect you to have a fire crackling in the hearth, but part of turning includes several days of unbearable heat, and he’s not sure you’re past that yet.

You come out of nowhere, slamming into him from the shadows to his left, and Taehyung lets himself get knocked to the ground, landing squarely on his ass.

“Ouch,” he says, pouting at you.

Straddling him, rearing back so he can see the column of your throat working in the darkness, you curl back your upper lip, bare your brand-new fangs at him and snarl, the sound snapping and cutting.

He grins. He loves you like this. It makes him feel proud.

“What is it you need, my Queen?” he teases.

Your scowl at him, fangs hanging over your lower lip; you haven’t mastered putting them away yet, and Taehyung thinks it’s the damn cutest thing in the world.

“Drink,” you say, a demand.

“Are you thirsty?” he coos. Your scowl deepens. He knows your consciousness is cloudy right now, a haze of thirst and want and heat obscuring your finer thinking. But you’re in there, behind the haze, and each day a bit more of you shines through.

“Drink,” you insist again, petulantly.

He wishes he could take you hunting - deer, maybe even a bear. He’d loved to see you in action - he has no doubt you’d be a formidable predator, and it sends a thrill through him. But it would be too dangerous; if they happened across a human, you’d have no control. Not yet.

Maybe someday.

Instead, Taehyung flips you without warning, laying his body heavy over yours. You begin thrashing immediately, snarls rolling through you like seismic activity, but he’s stronger and he manages to hold you in place.

He gives a sharp whistle and your doors open. Your thrashing intensifies as you see an escape route, but the guards who wheel in two carts are quick, and soon enough the doors are shut again. Taehyung lets you up, and you skitter to the door, hands working at the knobs. They don’t budge.

You whirl around, looking at him furiously.

“Look,” he says happily, unphased by your anger, “they brought you drinks!”

Eyes narrowed suspiciously, you peer at the carts. There are a few items of blood-food, but unsurprisingly you pass them over. There are carafes of dark liquid, and if you wanted you could just drink. But Taehyung knows what your body is craving - just blood won’t be enough to sate you. Your fangs are tingling, itching to pierce, itching for warmth. You won’t feel better until that need is met, too.

The bags, just big enough to be cradled between two hands, are simply called Prey - a little joke by their inventor, none other than Jimin. They were created for newly-turned Infracti, meant to satisfy both needs at once. The pouch is not real skin, though it feels close enough. The blood inside is real.

You hold one between your hands, claws digging in like it might escape, and bring it to your mouth, piercing the pouch and beginning to drink. You let out a happy little sigh, and Taehyung comes to wrap his arms around you from behind.

“There,” he soothes. “Drink all you need. You’ll feel better.”

You work through three pouches before you stop, dropping the deflated Prey onto the cart it came from and turning to Taehyung with wide eyes, and the cutest fang-adorned pout.

“What is it, my love?” he murmurs, brushing a hand over the top of your head soothingly. “Don’t you feel better now that you’ve had some to drink?”

You nod, then reconsider, frowning and shaking your head.

“What’s not better?” he asks, moving to pull you into a standing cuddle.

Your frown deepens and you raise a hand and rub at your mouth, fingers sliding along your protruding fangs with a squeak.

“They hurt?” he asks sympathetically.

“Bite,” you mumble around your pout.

“Alright,” he tells you. “Let’s get comfortable.”

You loop your arms around his neck, and he takes a second to smile into your hair, holding you close. He likes you like this, too driven by your needs to be proud. He likes that you need him, that you want him, that the part of your brain that might make you pretend otherwise, or at least act like it’s less, is currently silenced by your bloodlust.

He lifts you, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you deeper into your wing, seeking out your bedroom. The blankets are rumpled, half-thrown on the ground, like you’d tried to sleep but had eventually kicked the blankets off and gotten up to pace, instead.

That’s probably exactly what happened.

He settles back against the pillows and you straddle him, arms still around his neck. You bury your face against his chest and whine.

“I know,” he tells you, rubbing a hand up your back. You hiss at the contact, pulling away from where you’d been hiding your face.

“Hurts,” you complain.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, trying to touch more gently. He knows your muscles are sore, skin hot to the touch as your body adjusts. “You can bite if you need to bite.”

“You sure?” you ask, and Taehyung notes that it’s one of your first multi-word utterances. A sign that you’re making progress, coming out of the fog a little.

“I’m sure,” he tells you.

You nose at his neck, and he strokes lightly down your back until you find a spot you like.

It’s only a sting when you pierce the skin of his shoulder, over his deltoid, for which he’s thankful. You don’t drink - sangru can’t be ingested - but leave your sore, sensitive fangs buried in his flesh. You wrap yourself around him even tighter, settling in and closing your eyes as you feel relief for the first time all day.

Taehyung tries hard to hold still so he doesn’t knock you loose. He’s glad he can do this for you, help ease your way.

He still finds it incomprehensible that you’d give up your human life for him. He holds still, and he whispers to you that it’ll get better soon, that Potato misses you, that he loves you.

After a while, he feels your breathing even out. He shifts gently, wincing as your fangs slip from his shoulder, the wounds starting to ooze tar-black sangru. Unbothered, he moves you gently into a more comfortable sleeping position, smiling when you hum in your sleep. Then, even though he’s slept all night ever since the curse was undone, he closes his eyes and lets himself drift away with you in his arms.

—

You lay still when you awaken, slowly taking inventory of each thing that hurts. Your head isn’t pounding - that’s a first, since the night Taehyung had turned you. You flex your fingers, roll your shoulders, stretch your legs towards the end of the bed. Things are stiff, but not painful the way they’d be the last few times you’d woken.

You rise gingerly, making your way to the windows, drawing back the curtains and filling the room with light. You blink against it, letting your eyes adjust.

You’re in your own rooms, your new wing in the palace. You wander from room to room absently, trying to familiarize yourself. You feel a little lost, a little out of place. You hadn’t inhabited these rooms for long before turning, and now you’ve been out of it for so long that you don’t even know what day it is.

You’re standing in the middle of the main room - with couches and an unlit hearth, just like Taehyung’s wing - staring absently at nothing when one of your tall doors cracks open.

You almost sag with relief when you see Satuel peek her head inside.

“Hi,” you breathe, deflating.

“You’re up,” she says, sounding a bit surprised. “It’s harder to keep track of you now that I can’t hear your heartbeat from outside.”

This makes you smile. “What day is it?”

She tells you as she comes inside, and you start counting on your fingers. Almost three weeks to the day since you’d performed Taehyung’s countercurse.

“Can I get you anything, Maiesti?” she asks.

You feel your face heat. “You shouldn’t call me that,” you say, a bit aghast. Your voice is rough from disuse. “I’m only Prince Taehyung’s sperasa.”

“You will be Queen soon enough,” she says in that cool, even way of hers. “What can I bring for you?”

You hesitate. “I’m very thirsty,” you admit.

She gives you a quick bow and retreats, and you sink into a chair, a bit dazed. Now that you’re noticed it, the thirst is powerful, and you find it hard to think about anything else.

Satuel doesn’t leave you suffering for long. She returns with a cart full of options - pitchers, Prey, and various pastries that must be blood-food.

You choose the pouches, the Prey, since they relieve both the thirst and the tingling need to bite. Though, you notice absently, the tingling isn’t so bad today.

While you drink, Satuel catches you up on what you’ve missed - the former King’s guilty verdict, Seokjin’s father’s trial underway, Taehyung’s own trial impending. Word that Namjoon made it back, that he’s doing fine settling back into his old life. That Taehyung has been here every day, helping you adjust, in between meetings with his new cabinet.

“Maiesti will be pleased to see you feeling more like yourself,” she notes.

“Do you think he’ll be long?” you ask, a bit wistfully.

Satuel gives you a knowing smile. “I think if I tell him you’re awake - really awake - he’ll leave his cabinet mid-meeting to come dote on you.”

You flush.

“Should I inform him?” Satuel asks, almost teasingly.

You wonder if, somehow, she has ended up as your friend.

You hesitate. “Could I… go see him? I’d really like a walk.”

You clean up before you go, and you’re pleased to find that you remember your way through the palace from these new rooms. It’s startling to walk down the corridor - your gait is awkward, your legs wanting to go faster than your brain thinks they can. But, of course, your brain is wrong - it needs time to catch up to what your body can do now.

You pause at the door of Taehyung’s meeting room, listening.

“I just think,” Seokjin is saying, somewhat hotly, “that there needs to be some weighting to the representation. The great houses should have more say than the lesser houses. We’re the ones here doing the work, we’re the ones here solving problems. The lesser houses can have a representative, but court families should have more.”

“I disagree,” someone else says, their tone carefully polite. “Beginning this new venture with an imbalance of power will only invite trouble. The lesser houses will be resentful from the beginning. It could brew into conflict. We don’t want to replace one monarch with a group of monarchs. Your Majesty, you wanted equality across Infracticus - that means you must start with equal.”

“You both make valid points,” Taehyung muses. “How do we decide? Should we vote?”

You step into the room. A few cabinet members look up, eyes widening. Another does a double take, at first deeming you unimportant and then looking again when they register who you are.

Taehyung lets out a noise like a laugh, a smile breaking across his face. “My love!” he cries. “You’re well?”

“I know my name today,” you tell him. “So that’s something, right?”

He starts to push his chair back, but you raise a hand to stop him. He halts mid-motion, clearly confused.

“What if you appointed representation by breaking up the land instead of by house?” you suggest, jumping uninvited into the conversation you’d interrupted. “I’ve seen it done that way above - it works, more or less. Then it doesn’t boil down to do the Runes get one or two, it would simply be that the Runes living in a designated area have the same representative as anyone else who lives there, too.”

Taehyung’s smile, if possible, triples in size. He finishes standing, pushing his chair away. He points at Seokjin mirthfully. “Discuss this suggestion in my absence,” he commands. “My Queen requires my attention now.”

Out in the hall, he sweeps you into a hug, swinging you in a circle. You laugh, slapping half-heartedly at him until he sets you down.

“You,” he says, “are the bravest, smartest, most beautiful Queen Infracticus has ever seen.”

“I’m not Queen yet,” you point out.

“We’ll start planning today,” he says, and then falters. “That is… if you want. I didn’t mean to rush you. I just got excited.”

You can’t help but smile, slipping a hand into his. “No,” you say shyly. “I do… want. Should we wait, though - for after your trial?”

He sobers. “Yoongi thinks it’ll be over in a day,” he says quietly, not meeting your gaze now. You squeeze his hand, reminding him that he’s not alone in this. “The Elders will testify that I was cursed… Namjoon is willing to testify as well… some of my guards, who kept me in my rooms…”

“I could, too,” you offer.

He nods, but it doesn’t seem like he’s saying yes. “If it comes to that,” he hedges. “But, like I said, Yoongi doesn’t think it’ll be much of a case. I’ll be relieved when it’s over, either way.” He shoots you a conspiratorial look. “And then, yes, we can start planning our events.”

“Events?” you echo.

“Wedding,” he ticks off on his fingers. “And then we’ll have to have a coronation for you.”

“I’d rather do it all in one go,” you admit. “I don’t like being the center of attention.”

He smiles indulgently at you. “You’ll get used to it,” he says. “If it helps, from now on, it will never just be you in the center, at least not alone. Wherever you go, you’ll always have me.”

And it does. It does help.

—

“Come on!” Taehyung’s voice is boyish, downright gleeful, as you struggle to keep up with his long legs.

“Where are we going?” you call to him, but your voice is lost by a strong ocean breeze, the sound carried away and drowned beneath the cries of the gulls and the crashing of waves.

In truth, you’re going slow on purpose, trying to savor this: the ocean you get to live beside, Taehyung laughing and carefree in a way you’ve never seen before, a sense that you belong right here.

It’s hard to wrap your brain around the truth that you don’t need to savor it, don’t need to make it last - you’ll have more time here than you can imagine.

Then, you recognize the stone steps he’s bounding down. He’s taking you to his stables.

“Potato missed me too much?” you tease, finally catching up. He grins at you in response.

Inside the stable, he tugs you past Potato’s stall, giving her a quick pat on the nose as he goes.

“Ta-da!” he crows, leaning over the wooden door to the stall, peering down into the space below. You follow his gaze and gasp, hands flying to your face.

“Taehyung!” you shriek. “No way!”

“You’ll scare her!” he chides, but he’s laughing, reaching to unlatch the door so you can properly meet the baby amarisca that stands in the stall. Her coat is royal blue, her hooves navy, and her eyes as black as Taehyung’s.

You sit on the ground and let her come to you, trying hard not to squeal and scare her even though you’re absolutely vibrating with excitement.

“I can’t believe you did this for me,” you all but sob, so happy you’re almost incoherent.

“You need to name her,” he points out, sitting down next to you, hay and dirt be damned.

“Noodle,” you say immediately. “Her name is Regency’s Noodle. Taehyung, oh my god!”

You almost lose it again when she presses her nose into your hand, and Taehyung beams, his smile as bright as the sun.

You’ve come a long way in your transition. You can go almost the whole day without drinking, mostly needing one end-of-day “meal” (four or five Prey pouches) to get you through. You’re more steady on your feet, practicing zipping around lightning-quick the way you’ve seen others do. And your magic is stronger, too. You’ve been thinking of asking Taehyung if there’s a more formal way you can train in magic, once things are settled.

There’s a lot still to come. Your wedding, your coronation. And though the cabinet has been hard at work, King Taehyung has yet to announce that he plans to dissolve the monarchy and create a more democratic system in its place. Neither of you - none of the cabinet members - expect the news to go over smoothly.

Whatever happens, you’ll face it together. It helps that Seokjin is so involved, practically Taehyung’s second-in-command.

“When she’s big enough,” Taehyung promises you, “we’ll race to my island. We’ll travel to the ends of Infracticus together - I’ll make sure you see it all. We’ll ride together and see all the places you grew up reading about.”

“And then what?” you ask, half-teasing. You have an eternity to fill, after all.

“Whatever you want,” he promises. “We’ll do whatever you want, My Queen.”

And he slides his hand into yours, where it fits like it belongs.

—

Taehyung’s hand is in yours when he meets with you and the Infracti who will defend him at the trial, Yoongi and Hoseok of Cleave.

“I was… going to keep this to myself,” he admits, shoulders rounded with shame. “But I need to know that I truly answered for what I did. And I can’t do that if you only know part of the truth.”

Yoongi looks at you, like you might have some answers. You do not.

Taehyung wilts just slightly more. He glances sideways at you. “My love,” he murmurs, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Maiesti,” Yoongi says, voice low with warning. He trails off.

Taehyung fiddles with the rings on his fingers, unable to look anyone in the eye. “The whole truth,” he says, so quiet that you and Yoongi both lean closer to hear him, “is that the curse… it wasn’t what I intended - something went wrong -”

“What happened, Taehyung?” you ask, knowing it when you see him start to spiral into half-thoughts.

He braces himself, and then tells you both what happened five nights before you’d arrived.

Before you came to Infracticus, Taehyung had spent an entire night in the deepest archives the palace held. He had thrummed with energy and desperation, as if stopping his father’s actions faster could also undo them. As if finding a solution quickly could absolve him, earn forgiveness.

He’d slapped a palm over the page when he found what he was looking for, after hours of searching, reading for so long that his eyes watered and begged to close.

A curse. A curse that would end his immortality, give him a human lifespan.

“If I die young, without an heir,” he had argued with absolutely no one, his voice echoing in the empty, stone room, “then the crown cannot pass on. After my father, it goes to no one.”

It didn’t solve the problem now, he knew. It meant Sunjae would continue to rule unchecked. But someday. Someday, Taehyung would die, and then Sunjae would die, and then the crown would be free.

He’d rest easier knowing that even if every plan he thought up eventually failed, at least Sunjae would be the last. Taehyung would spend however many years he got trying to stop him, and if nothing worked then at least he could die knowing that after Sunjae, it would end. The monarchy would cease to exist. Something better could rise from its ashes. It had to.

He had stood and pulled the book closer to the edge of the table so he could see it clearly and began borrowing, pulling magic from the world around him. He’d end his immortality, he’d kill his immortal self. For his people. For Infracticus.

“I am Taehyung of Rune, Prince of Infracticus,” he had told the empty room. He would bring his father down. He would end his house’s rule. “But perhaps I can be of Ruin, too.”

<- Prev

thank you so much for being here!! i hope you enjoyed this crazy world as much as i did. may scuttlebug tae live on forever in our hearts :')

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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 year

Note

Hii there love <3 I hope you’re doing well!

Would you mind please writing a drabble in the Elementary-verse where Reader surprises Joel and Sarah (and even Tommy as well, if you’d like!) with a homemade meal for dinner one night? Now that Reader was assured by Joel that it was more than okay for her to do something like this, I feel like she definitely would and it’d be super sweet 🥺💞 Thank you for being so amazing <3

Winter Break

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel x f!reader (Elementary-verse)

rating: F (just more fluff, alcohol consumption i guess, maybe some suggestive stuff but nothing explicit at all) as always, not proofread and written on an edible :)

wc: 2k (this got away from me)

series masterlist | joel masterlist

The winter had gotten to all of you, the school year wearing you down along with Sarah as she finished her first semester as a high schooler. Joel and Tommy had it just as bad—having to work outside in the wettest Texas winter you’d ever seen since moving here. More often than not, Joel would come hobbling into the house after he got off work well past dark, only having the energy to call in some take-out for the three of you. He usually ended up falling asleep on the sofa before the food ever arrived.

But tonight marked the start of winter break, and the start of Joel’s vacation days he was in desperate need of. You wanted to celebrate getting through such a rough month with a home cooked meal—not the first you ever made, but certainly the first in a while.

When Sarah got out of school, the two of you drove over to the supermarket to do some shopping. You didn’t want any of you to have to leave the house this winter break, so on top of the usual snacks and frozen junk food Joel kept his fridge stocked with, you also carefully planned dinner for tonight.

“Ooo, vegetables. Been a while since I had those,” Sarah joked, forcing a laugh out of you as you knew it was sadly true.

“Gonna make a roast tonight,” you informed with a smile. “Figured we should probably eat something other than takeout and frozen pizza.”

“Dad’s gonna be excited…long as he can manage to stay awake through dinner. Dad fell asleep on the way to school this morning.” You gasped and watched her nod. “Yeah, good thing Uncle Tommy was driving. Otherwise—“

“Jesus,” you sighed and shook your head. “I’m gonna lock your father up and force him to sleep for like two days straight starting tomorrow.”

“I don’t need sleep like y’all,” Sarah impersonated her father, pulling another laugh out of you. “I’m a big, strong, man. I don’t need sleep or water or vegetables or anythin’ else most humans need to survive. All I need’s a cup of black coffee and I’ll be alright.”

“That was so good, I got chills.”

Back at home, you got to work on dinner. Sarah attempted to help you out, but you lovingly forced her to relax, instructing her to turn on the TV, kick her feet up and just chill while you handled things. But, the fifteen-year old was stubborn like her father and refused, instead choosing to sit at the kitchen table and finish her upcoming project due the week after school recommenced. As a teacher, you wanted to applaud her for her work ethic, but as her future step-mother, you wanted to pluck her pen from her hand and break it, forcing her to do what every other teenager in the world was doing tonight—nothing.

When it was clear she was going to spend her break her own way, you left her to it, focusing on chopping the potatoes, onions, and carrots—omitting celery as Sarah hated it and reminded you of that fact as you reached for a stalk at the grocery store. As you slid the potatoes in a pot to parboil, your cellphone started to ring on the counter.

“It’s dad,” Sarah announced, peeking at the caller ID.

“Can you get it?”

“Yeah,” Sarah nodded and flipped open the phone. “Hey dad.”

You continued on with dinner as they spoke, the phone call not lasting more than a couple minutes.

“Dad said Uncle Tommy is coming over tonight,” she relayed before getting back to her work.

“Good thing I bought the fattest roast in the store,” you spoke through strain as you lifted the roast from it’s packaging to sit in the middle of a metal roasting pan.

“God,” she chuckled at the size. “And you know what? I bet even with all of that, there’ll still be no leftovers by the time dad and Uncle Tommy get through with it.”

The boys entered the house the way the always did, bickering and graceless, their mud and cement covered work books kicked off by the door as they walked in through the garage.

“I’m just sayin’,” Tommy continued whatever conversation they had going on as they walked into the kitchen. Joel sidled up next to you at the stove, his hand rubbing the small of your back as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Yeah, but I’m tellin’ you,” Joel spoke to his brother but physically remained focused on you and your cooking. “If we can’t get the electrical guys to show up on time, we’re gonna be in some shit. And I know they’re your buddies and all, but this is my goddamn business, Tommy. I can’t keep hand in’ out favors only to get shitty, half-assed work in return.”

“I know,” he sighed and nodded. “I’ll talk to ‘em tomorrow.”

“What’s all this?” Joel mumbled against your temple as he gave you another kiss there, finally greeting you with his voice.

“Thought we were due for a real dinner,” you mumbled back, melting into his side even though he smelled of hard labor and dirt. “There’s a roast in the oven. Should be ready in about twenty minutes. Oh, and there’s beer in the fridge.”

“My god,” Joel gave your hip a squeeze and kissed your cheek. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Damn right you don’t,” Tommy agreed as he appeared on your other side to peek at the food. “How long do I gotta sit in torture?”

“20 minutes,” you replied through a chuckle. “There’s beer in the fridge to distract yourself with in the meantime.”

“Joel, if you don’t marry her, I will.”

“Shut up and go sit down,” Joel ordered, tightening his hold on you. “Gotta keep my eye on him, might try stealin’ you away.”

“I promise you, there’s no chance of that,” you assured. “I’m happy where I’m at.”

“Yeah?” he asked, smiling at you. You turned your head to nod at him, your eyes naturally falling to his lips. “Me too.”

Dinner was alright. The meat could have been a bit more tender and the carrots needed longer, but you seemed to be the only one who noticed. All three Millers tore into dinner until, as Sarah predicted, there were no leftovers.

Now, Tommy laid sprawled out on the couch, his jeans unbuttoned, one hand over his full stomach, the other wrapped around a beer. Sarah sat with him on the other end of the sofa, kicking his feet away any time he tried to rest them near her. Joel looked to be in a similar condition as his brother, sitting back in a dining chair with both hands rubbing over his stomach, his eyes on you as you scraped your plate clean over the trash can.

“Don’t do the dishes,” he commanded, knowing you much too well. You shot him a smile and shook your head.

“It’ll just take fifteen minutes,” you promised, but it didn’t satisfy him. He stood, bones cracking as he walked to stand behind you at the sink. His hands moved from your hips to your hold your wrist. Slowly, he pulled up the sleeves of your sweater one arm at a time, his warmth pressing into you from behind.

“You wash, I’ll dry,” he whispered into your ear, pressing a kiss there before backing away to stand beside you. “How was your last day before break?”

“Surprisingly very calm,” you replied, as you started on the pile of dishes in the sink. “Think everyone’s just excited to get a break. Speaking of, Sarah told me about your nap on the way to school this morning.”

“Oh, hell—just dozed off, it’s nothin. Not everybody needs ten hours of sleep a night to function—“ Your laughter cut him off. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” He shot you a persistent look. “Sarah thought you’d say something like that.”

“She tried to do my voice, didn’t she?” he asked, making you laugh. “It ain’t a great impersonation.”

“I thought it was pretty good.” Joel smiled and accepted the freshly scrubbed plate from your hand with a playful tug.

“You look good tonight, baby,” he spoke quieter, just for you to hear. You felt your stomach tingle with affection at the sound of his low voice—the voice only you got to hear.

“Yeah?” you questioned with a smirk. Joel grinned and nodded in eager confirmation. “You’re just happy because you’ve got a full belly.”

“Dinner was delicious, by the way,” he continued, not detailed by your inability to receive a compliment. “Think one look at Tommy will prove it.”

Your heard turned to the other side to watch as Tommy snored on the sofa.

“Guess he’s staying the night,” you turned to Joel. “I should go get the air mattress—“

“Uh-uh,” he protested with a soft shake of his head. “He’s fine like that. You’re so worried about us relaxin’, you’ve forgotten you’re the most wound up outta all of us. Relax, baby. You are allowed to do that, ya know?”

You chuckled and nodded, looking away from his eyes and back to the dishes.

“How about you go get a fire going in the backyard and I’ll come and sit with you for a while,” you suggested, bringing a fresh smile to Joel’s face.

“I think that sounds like a slice of heaven,” he hummed against your cheek as he kissed you there. “Maybe I’ll even bring out the guitar.”

“That would be nice,” you beamed. Joel’s playing was so pretty, but also so rare. He never had the time for it, always either working or sleeping, but tonight, he had all the time in the world.

Tommy was asleep on the sofa, Sarah up in her bed doing the same thing. You and Joel remained cozied up together in the backyard, a blanket over your laps, your head leaning onto his shoulder as Joel strummed away at his guitar. It was cold out, but the fire raging in front of you did a sufficient job at keeping you toasty, not that you needed it. Joel made you feel plenty warm just by existing.

“You feelin’ sleepy?” he asked over the music. He must’ve caught your heavy eyelids attempting to close. You decided it would be best not to lie, the appeal of the bed and mountain of blankets to keep you warm responsible for keeping you honest.

“Yeah,” you croaked, nodding your head against his shoulder. Joel flattened his palm over the strings to quiet the music before standing up and walking it back into the house. You stood too, wrapping the blanket around your shoulder as you watched him return to put the fire out.

“You don’t have to wait for me,” he reminded.

“I want to,” you argued. He smiled at the dying embers, mumbling an okay.

You waited with him until the fire was completely ashed out, his arms wrapping around your waist to walk you inside. You carefully tiptoed through the house as to not wake Tommy and Sarah. The only sound in the entire house was the creak of the stairs beneath your feet as you padded up the stairs with Joel following at your heels.

“You gonna be grossed out if I don’t shower until the mornin’? I’m so tired—“

“As long as you’re okay with me being too tired for anything sexy tonight,” you replied from your side of the bed as you climbed in.

“We’ll do both in the mornin’ instead, how ‘bout that?” You smiled and nodded at him as he stripped down to his briefs and climbed into bed beside you. You guided him to turn his back to you so that you could hold him for a while, your hands rubbing and kneading at the tension in his back. “Mm, love you baby.”

“I love you,” you whispered back, continuing your massaging right up until you drifted asleep behind him, your hands hugged tight to his chest.

This was rest. This was peace.

•

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller reader insert #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #elementary

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ramblers-lets-get-ramblin · 7 months

Text

When My Time Comes Around- Part Two

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Part One | Part Three

Summary: This chapter takes place in the year and a half or so before the beginning of the first chapter. You'll find out everything leading up to you finding Joel dying in the snow.

Rating: E FOR EXPLICIT MDNI 18+

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: THIS IS THE SADDEST THING I’VE EVER WRITTEN, major character death, detailed canon typical violence, detailed descriptions of injuries, heavy use of weapons, Marlene deserves her own warning, alcohol consumption, references to alcoholism, child death, child loss, major angst, briefest hint of PIV smut, EVEN THOUGH READER IS NOT PRESENT IN THIS CHAPTER, THIS IS STILL A JOEL X READER FIC

Author’s Notes: Unfortunately, this chapter is a lot sadder than the last one. But if you decide to stick around to the end you will be rewarded with a disgustingly sweet and fluffy happy ending! Also this is my first time writing this much action and it was so fun! Let me know what y'all think about it because I'd love to write more!

A year and a half earlier

The first time that Joel felt even a spark of hope in twenty years, was standing on that roof in Salt Lake City, Utah, feeding a giraffe with his daughter. He felt an unease in the pit of his stomach. It was like he’d swallowed a handful of stones. He didn’t want to move forward with the plan anymore. He didn’t want to find the Fireflies. He never trusted Marlene as far as he could throw her to begin with. But after everything that happened with that man, David, and his group, he doesn’t trust anyone with Ellie. She didn’t tell him the details of what happened to her in that diner in Silver Lake, but it didn’t take much for Joel to figure out where it was heading. He feels so guilty that he wasn’t there to protect her, to save her. He was failing her, just like he knew he would. Just like he told Tommy he would. He tried to tell Ellie that they didn’t have to do this. They could just go back to Jackson and forget about the whole damn thing. “It can’t be for nothing.” She told him. “When we’re done, we’ll go wherever you want. Tommy’s, sheep ranch, the moon.” Joel chuckled softly and shook his head. Even when she was trying to be serious, she couldn’t help being a little shit. “I’ll follow you anywhere you go.” She told him. “We finish what we started.” Joel nodded in agreement, but his apprehension only grew. He told himself that he would do whatever Ellie wanted to do. Joel Miller may be many things, but a man who goes back on his word isn’t one of them. He didn’t feel any sort of loyalty to Marlene or her terrorist friends, so he wasn’t gonna hand her over to them against her will. He felt a bit of probably unearned pride for his daughter, forging ahead, because she might be able to save everyone. He swallows the lump in his throat, shoving the doubt down. At least he’ll be with her, no harm will come to her while Joel is around.

As they continue their trek through downtown Salt Lake City, they stumble upon an old Army emergency medical camp. Joel tells Ellie that he was in one the day after the outbreak. “With Sarah?” She asks.

“No. She was gone already. It was for the this.” He tells her, pointing at the scar on his temple.

“Ah the guy who shot and missed.” She says. “I figured that would have happened later.”

Joel shakes his head. “No second day.” Joel stops in his tracks, but Ellie doesn’t notice.

“Well I gotta hand it to the Army people, they were way better at stitchin’ you up than I was.” She doesn’t notice that Joel isn’t beside her until he speaks again.

“It was me.” She turns to face him. “I was the guy who shot and missed.” He sits on a concrete barrier. He tells Ellie about how he didn’t want to go on after Sarah died. How he was ready to end it all, wasn’t scared, not even a little bit. But he flinched.

“I know why you’re tellin’ me all this.” Ellie says.

“Yeah, I reckon you do.” Joel replies sadly.

“So, time heals all wounds, I guess?”

Joel looks Ellie in her eyes and tells her, “It wasn’t time that did it.” Her voice breaks a little when she speaks again.

“Well, I’m glad that that didn’t work out.” Joel nods at her.

“Me too.” They hop down from the wall and continue to make their way through the abandoned med camp. Joel decides they are done talking about sad things and tells Ellie that he is in the mood to head some shitty puns. He might as well have handed her his rifle for how happy it made her. She starts out strong with an apocalypse joke, they never even notice the men sneaking up behind them. Not until Joel hears the canister hit the ground. By the time he realizes what is happening, all he can do is shove Ellie to the ground and throw his body on top of her. He hears Ellie scream fro him, but he can’t find her. Then, everything goes black.

Joel has no idea how much time has passed when wakes. His head is pounding and his vision is blurred. There’s a ringing in his ears and a knot on the back of his head. The sheets feel scratchy under his face and the smell of mildew permeates the air. The first thing he sees is the spray painted emblem representing the fireflies. then he hears her. Marlene. She explains that her patrol didn’t know who they were. They just saw two people enter that perimeter they had established around the hospital. Later, he’ll come to realize that they knew exactly who he was. She knew she’d never be able to get Ellie away if he was conscious. The first thing he asks is where his daughter is. Marlene assures him that she wasn’t hurt. “Not even a scratch.” She tells him that she’s mostly just worried about Joel.

“Where is she?” Joel asks. Marlene deflects the question and praises Joel for getting Ellie to them safely.

“How’d you do it?” She asks. Joel, still trying to clear the fog from his brain, shakes his head.

“It was all her. She fought like hell to get here.” But Marlene knows the truth. Ellie would have been dead the first day on her own. She never would have made it without Joel. She almost seems disappointed that he made it all this way. Maybe she was hoping it would have been Tess to cross the finish line. Or at the very least, she’d be able to keep Joel on his leash. There’s nobody left to grab him by the collar. Nobody to tell him “down, boy.” If there was one person in the world Marlene doesn’t want to be indebted to, its Joel Miller. “Just take me to her.” Joel says calmly.

“I can’t.” Marlene replies. “She’s being prepped for surgery.” He doesn’t understand.

“What surgery?” He asks. Marlene explains the Dr Anderson’s theory to him. About why Ellie is immune. And how her immunity could be the key to a cure. Something they can replicate in a lab and give to everyone. A real cure, hope for a real future of the human race. A chance to return their society to its former glory. Finally, the gas that has been clouding his brain has cleared. It dawns on him what Marlene means. He gently sits back down on the hospital bed. “Cordyceps grows inside the brain.” He says softly, almost to himself.

“It does.” She confirms.

“Find someone else.” Joel argues, but he knows that there is no one else. Why would they need someone else when Joel was hand delivering Ellie to them on a silver platter?

Marlene tries to comfort Joel. She tells him that Ellie didn’t even know what was going on. She wasn’t scared a bit. She assures him that she won’t feel even an ounce of pain, not for one second. Joel demands to be taken to his daughter. “You take me to her RIGHT NOW!” Joel screams, standing form the bed. One of Marlene’s men jams the butt of his rifle into Joel’s ribs. It knocks the wind from him and he falls to his knees. “Please.” He begs, “you don’t understand.” Marlene has tears in her eyes when she tells Joel that she does understand, more than he knows. She tells him about the promise she made to Ellie’s mom, moments after the girl was born. She promised to save her. She promised to protect her. Joel is the one who doesn’t understand now. How is this protecting her? Sacrificing her for something that might not even work? Joel would let the whole world burn, and everyone left burn right along with it, if it meant he got to keep his girl safe. She apologizes to Joel as her tears fall, and instructs her men to dump Joel on the highway.

“If he tries anything, shoot him.” She orders. Marlene considers her debt paid, having spared his life. The men shove him down the hallway of the hospital. His eyes dart around, taking note of where the pediatric level is. One of the men grabs Joel by his shoulder and pushes him towards the stairs. The lights flicker overhead, plunging the stairwell into darkness every few moments. Joel times it just right so that the next time it goes dark he makes his move. His jams his elbow into the nose of the man closest to him, the one who shoved him. He pulls the man’s arm up and points his gun at the other man. He squeezes his finger over the other man’s and pulls the trigger. Then, Joel yanks the gun from his grasp and shoots him in the knee. The man screams in pain, but Joel could not care less.

“Where is she?” He demands. “Fuck you .” The man responds.

“I don’t have time for this.” Joel says, and shoots the man in the face. He grabs his backpack from the dead man and ascends the stairs once more, just as their radios go off. “ Shots fired .” Joel hears. He knows he needs to hurry, he doesn’t have much time. He follows the signs on the walls, allowing them to direct him to the pediatric wing. The walls of this wing are covered in murals of animals. All bright colors and happiness. He takes down three or four more Fireflies on his way. Finally, he finds the operating room. A doctor and two nurses are prepping Ellie for her surgery. He made it just in time. He steps into the scrub room, rifle raised and ready. The nurses gasp and raise their hands when he enters the operating room. “Unhook her.” He commands. The doctor comes at him with a scalpel. Joel pulls his pistol from his waist and repeats the order. Just before he pulls the trigger, he feels a pinch in his neck, almost like a mosquito bite.

The last thing he hears before the world fades to black is Marlene’s voice. “I’m sorry, Joel.”

Joel wakes abruptly, uncertain of his surroundings for the second time. He's in a bed, in a dark room. He gropes around, locating his backpack and rifle on the bed. He reaches into the side pocket, pulling out a small flashlight, and clicks it on. The LED light reveals a portion of the room. He rotates his wrist slowly, assessing his surroundings. He's in a house, in a bedroom. His head throbs and his throat feels dry and scratchy. The drug that was administered is potent. He can feel himself growing faint again. He tries to stay awake, knowing he needs to find Ellie before it's too late. But darkness engulfs him, and he falls asleep. When he wakes again, it’s light out. Late morning or early afternoon, he guesses. His head is clearer, but his throat is drier than Texas grass in July. Rummaging through his backpack, he finds his pistol and a water bottle Ellie insisted he carry. He gulps the entire bottle and throws it back into his pack. He rises from the bed and puts his pack on. He checks the ammo in his rifle and slings that over his shoulder. With his pistol in hand, he makes his way to the bedroom door. He swings it open and several chairs topple inside. Clearly they were meant to keep someone, or something , out, rather than keep Joel in. Whoever put him in this room wanted to make sure he was safe. Must have been Ellie , he surmises. Eager to leave, he’s anxious to find Ellie and ensure her safety. Surely Marlene wouldn’t actually have let them kill her, right? He calls out her name, but hears nothing in return. Joel checks every room of the house and finds nothing, no one. He rifles through the cabinets and drawers, looking for anything useful, and for anything that might indicate where he is. He found some old mail on the counter. Alpine, Wyoming. How long had he been out? He pulls out his map and finds that Alpine is about halfway between Salt Lake City and Jackson. He walks back to the room he woke up in to see if there are any clues to where his daughter might be.

On the nightstand in the dimly lit room, a lone note lay folded neatly in half. The paper, worn and crinkled, bore a single handwritten word on the front: JOEL. The letters were etched with an urgency that was almost palpable. His heart pounding in his chest, he gingerly picked up the note and unfolded it. The handwriting wasn't Ellie's; it was too precise, too controlled. "Joel," it read, "I'm sorry that it had to be this way. I couldn't let you kill Dr. Anderson. I meant it when I said I owed you. Consider my debt paid for sparing your life a second time. Do not look for me because I will not spare it a third. I know it doesn't mean much, but I truly am sorry -Marlene." Joel's grip tightened around the paper, crumpling it into a tight ball in his fist. He dropped it onto the ground, the bitterness of betrayal seeping into his bones. Marlene, that heartless woman, had taken Ellie. She had taken his Ellie and left him with nothing but dread and speculation about what they could possibly be doing to her. He doubts they are still at the hospital but he has to go back. It’s the only place he might find a clue as to where they are headed next. At the very least, he might be able to rule out where they’ve already been. Surely Marlene is smart enough to know not to go back to any of her old labs, especially those that Tommy might know about. With a determined set to his jaw, Joel unfurled his map, studying the lines and routes to determine the best course of action. He marked his path and prepared himself for the journey. It took him three grueling days to reach Salt Lake City. Three long days of simmering anger and growing resolve. He knew, with a chilling clarity, what he had to do. He had to eliminate Marlene, once and for all. If he didn’t, she would never cease in her relentless pursuit of Ellie. The journey to the hospital was longer than he had anticipated. The last time he was there, he had been unconscious, blissfully unaware of the machinations unfolding around him. He retraced his steps, climbing up to the fourth floor, the pediatric ward. With bated breath and a cold determination, he began his search. He left nothing untouched, scouring every inch of each room. Despite his efforts, he found almost nothing of importance. Finally, he found himself at the end of a long, rotting hallway. He stood outside a door marked 'scrub room'. With a deep breath to steady his nerves, he swung the door open and stepped through. He glanced through the window above the three-compartment sink and felt a chill run through his veins. His blood ran ice cold, the stark reality of the situation hitting him with the force of a freight train.

There she is. Ellie. His baby girl. She's lying on the same exam table where he last saw her, an image that haunts his every waking moment. He gulps, taking a shaky, ragged breath as he steps into the cold, sterile environment of the operating room. The harsh fluorescent lights cast an eerie glow on her form, making her skin look unnaturally pale and waxy. She looks oddly peaceful like this, as if she was simply sleeping. His boots echo softly in the silence, each step feeling heavier than the last. He longs to reach out, to hold her, to reassure himself that she's still there. But the sight of her, so vulnerable and fragile, is too much for him to bear. Suddenly, a wave of nausea washes over him, so powerful that it brings him to his knees. He turns his head just in time, the contents of his stomach spilling onto the cold tile floor. The taste of bile fills his mouth, but it's nothing compared to the bitter helplessness that fills his heart. Joel slides his arm under Ellie’s knees and his other under her neck. He lifts her small, limp body into her his arms. He cradles her close to his heaving chest, and his arms tremble beneath the weight of the world. His world, ripped from him, once again. Joel doesn’t know how to do this again, but he marches on, determined to put his baby girl to rest properly. Not only had Marlene’s doctor butchered her, but they left her, all alone, discarded like a piece of trash.

Joel carries his daughter down all four flights of stairs. His tears fall freely onto her lifeless body. Behind the hospital there is a field, long overgrown. Joel decides that this is where he will lay Ellie’s body to rest. Joel can’t find a shovel, but there’s a pickaxe laying on the ground nearby. Joel sets Ellie gently down on the ground, under a tree. He drops his backpack and picks up the pickaxe. He rolls up the sleeve of his denim shirt to his elbows and sets to the task at hand. He works tirelessly, the pickaxe biting into the earth again and again. As the sun begins to set, casting long shadows across the field, he packs the last bit of soil over Ellie. The work is done, but the reality of it all threatens to shatter his already broken heart. The small size of the grave he dug, a stark contrast to the enormous place Ellie held in his life, tears at his heartstrings. Exhaustion, both physical and emotional, seizes him. He wakes with the sun in the morning and gazes once again upon the small grave, and tries to find the will to do anything other than lay there and waste away. He still has one thing left to do before he can finish the job he started twenty years before, after the death of his first daughter.

One week later, Joel passes through the gates at Jackson. He makes a beeline for The Tipsy Bison. When he crosses the threshold he spies Tommy behind the bar. Tommy’s gaze meets his brother’s and when he sees the look on Joel’s face he drops the glass he’s holding. He knows that look. He’s only seen it once before, twenty years earlier. It has haunted him ever since. “Sorry, fellas. Closin’ up early tonight.” He says to the men sitting at the bar as he sweeps up the shattered glass from the floor. They grumble but grab their coats and head out. Joel stands, unmoving, until the last man has left, leaving him alone with his brother. He slides his pack down his arm, letting it drop to his feet. He shuffles numbly to the bar and settles onto a stool. “Joel-“ Tommy starts, but Joel cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

“Whiskey.” Is all he says. Tommy pulls a clean glass from under the bar and turns to grab the half full bottle of Jameson behind him. He fills the glass halfway, but Joel gestures for him to keep pouring. He drains the glass in one gulp and slams it back down on the bar. “Another.” Tommy refills the glass and pours one for himself.

“You gonna tell me what happened?” He asks his brother hesitantly, unsure if he’s ready to hear the answer.

“She’s gone.” Is all Joel says as he looks into his whiskey. Tommy narrows his eyes at his brother.

“I can see that, Joel. Wasn’t that the goal? Get her to the Fireflies?” When Joel looks back up, there are tears shimmering in his eyes.

“No, Tommy. She’s gone.” His voice cracks on the last word and his composure breaks. Joel’s chest begins heaving and he presses his palm to it, right over where his pounding heart lies. He could swear that he can feel his heart literally cracking in two. “They-“ he begins but his voice gets caught in his throat. He clears his throat and tries again. “They cut into her fuckin’ head, Tommy.” He doesn’t bother trying to hold back his tears. “They cut her open and they fuckin’ left her there. Left her lyin’ there, all alone, like she was nothin’.” He cries. Tommy is intimately familiar with the despair that Joel is feeling at this moment. He’s been through this with him before, and Joel barely made it out of that alive. Not for his lack of trying either. Tommy knows that he’ll have to keep a close eye on Joel from now on.

“Joel. I’m so sorry.” Tommy says, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Ya should be.” Joel says, taking Tommy by surprise. He shrugs Tommy’s hand off his shoulder and rises from the barstool. He finishes his whiskey and walks out of the bar, grabbing his pack from the floor. He doesn’t know where else to go, so he wanders the streets of Jackson, aimlessly. He comes across the house he and Ellie stayed in for that one night. He vaguely remembers Tommy telling him that it would be waiting for him and Ellie when they returned from their journey. Now he just has to live in it alone, he supposes. He walks through the unlocked door and marches up the stairs. He stops in the doorway of the room he slept in the last time he was here. He spins on his heels and walks into the room next door. Ellie’s room. She was so excited to have a room, she went on and on during their trip to Salt Lake City about how she was going to decorate it. When she found out Joel used to be a contractor, her eyes lit up.

“So you can, like, build shit?” She asked. Joel huffed out a laugh.

“Yeah, I can build shit.” He told her. What he wouldn’t give to hear one of her shitty puns right about now. He failed her, again. Just like he told Tommy he would. as he lays his head on the pillow that still smells faintly like her, he can’t help but to wonder if Tommy would have been able to keep her safe.

Joel spends the next few months finding solace in the bottom of a bottle. He hasn’t spoken a word to Tommy since the day after his return to Jackson. Joel said some things to his brother that he could never take back. He doesn’t feel very inclined to take them all back, either. When Tommy came knocking on Joel’s door that next day, wanting to know what Joel had meant, he was surprised to be met with anger. “If it wasn’t for you, that little girl wouldn’t be dead right now. If it wasn’t for you, Tess wouldn’t be dead right now. You just had to go and get mixed up with those Fireflies, didn’t ya? With Marlene.” His voice was laced with venom as he spat her name. “Then ya just ran away when shit got hard. I had no idea if you were alive or dead, I had to come find you.” He shouted at his brother. Tommy held his hands up in defense.

“I never asked you do that, Joel.”

Joel shook his head and laughed bitterly. “All I’ve ever done, your whole fuckin’ life, is clean up after you. Sarah wouldn’t have been home alone that night if I didn’t have to go bail your sorry ass outta jail.” Tommy opened his mouth to argue but Joel cut him off. “She wouldn’t have been there alone and I could have gotten her out of there quicker. She’d still be alive if it wasn’t for you. So would Tess, and Ellie. You’ve taken everyone I’ve ever loved from me. I’ll never forgive you for that.” Joel slammed the door in Tommy’s face before he could even have the chance to defend himself.

Maria had assigned Joel to patrol duty. Five days a week, he worked a twelve hour shift, patrolling the area surrounding Jackson. Five days a week, he came home to an empty house, took a shower, and drank himself into oblivion. The other two days, when he was off, he woke up to a whiskey breakfast, and was usually passed out in Ellie’s bed by sundown. Joel knows exactly how pathetic he is. Barely eking out an existence here in this wonderful community that he has no desire to be a part of. The friendly smiles he receives as he walks down the street. The ones that are met with glares from Joel. He’s only learned the names of the his patrol partners, against his own will. He’s been through three partners already. The lovely people of Jackson can only put up with his sour disposition for so long, it seems. People don’t exactly cross the street when they see him coming, but they don’t go out of their way to offer him any pleasantries, anymore, either.

One day, about ten months after Joel’s return to Jackson, a patrol came through the gates with a group they had found. Great , Joel thinks, more people to have to avoid. That evening, during dinner, they sit at a table near Joel, along with Maria and Tommy, and their baby. Joel tries not to listen to their conversation but when the woman starts talking about her run in with a woman named Marlene, his entire body stiffens. Tommy takes notice of Joel’s reaction but neither men says a word. Later that night, Joel sits atop his regular stool at the bar of the Tipsy Bison. He doesn’t speak to anyone, not even the bartender. Doesn’t matter who’s working, they all know Joel’s order by heart by now. Whiskey. And keep ‘em coming . Though he doesn’t socialize, he takes notice of who comes and goes, in an effort to continue his avoidance of his little brother. From the corner of his eye he sees the woman from earlier, Sandy, enters the bar. Then, she does the one thing nobody does anymore. She takes the bar stool next to Joel. The guy working the bar, whose name Joel can’t remember, raises an eyebrow. “What can I get for you?” He asks the woman.

“Oh I’ll just have whatever he’s having.” She says, nodding her head towards Joel. Joel looks over to the woman and smiles.

“Hi there, I’m Joel.” He says, holding his hand out. “It’s real nice to meet you.” A few hours, and more than a few drinks later, Joel finds himself in his own bed, for the first time since he came back to Jackson. He’s laying on his back, looking up at the ceiling, while Sandy bounces on his cock. He’s barely aware of the sounds she’s making, the roll of her hips over his. His mind is elsewhere, formulating a plan. He’s going to find out everything she knows about Marlene. Then he’s gonna find her and he’s going to kill her. The doctor, the nurses, all of her little Firefly friends. He’s going to rip off their wings, one by one. They’re all gonna pay for what they did to his daughter.

Joel resolved himself to get his shit together after that night. No more drinking. But he had to find something else to occupy his time. Sandy found herself back in Joel’s bed more than once. But if it wasn’t her, it was someone else. Seems like big, bad Joel wasn’t as scary as he liked to think. At least, not to the single ladies of Jackson. Their faces all run together, he gets their names mixed up more often or not, but he’s not the town drunk anymore. It didn’t take him long to get the information he needed from Sandy. They had come across Marlene in Montana. They were attempting to hide from some runners in an old hospital. Marlene and her crew were holed up there as well. Sandy told him that Marlene wouldn’t let them go any higher than the second floor. Whatever they were doing up there, they didn’t want anyone to know about it. She stationed her men at all the elevators and stairwells. Armed to the teeth to make sure they didn’t go where they weren’t wanted. Joel grit his teeth upon hearing the information. He had a pretty good idea of what they were getting up to in that hospital. Butchering someone else’s kid, probably.

Joel spends the next few weeks gathering supplies. Jerky, rations, ammo. As much of it as he can fit into his pack. On one of his patrols, he came upon a sporting goods store. Somehow, it hadn't been picked clean. He was able to find a map of Montana, and scored a new hiking backpack. Everything sits atop the kitchen table in his house. He doesn't use it for meals, there's nobody for him to eat with. The women that fall into his bed night after night are long gone before breakfast rolls around. He doesn't tell anyone his plan. He doesn't want it getting back to Tommy. Joel figures he will say goodbye to his brother, probably for the last time, on his way out. Joel still hasn't forgiven Tommy and suspects he won't any time soon. He doesn't hold out much hope that he'll make it out of this mission alive. He isn't sure that he wants to. But, on the off chance, he doesn't plan to ever come back to Jackson. He's done enough damage here.

By the time Joel is ready to begin his journey, a year has passed since Ellie’s death. They had spent almost a year together, traveling the country, camping in the woods, eating Chef Boyardee. When she first joined him and Tess on their trip out west, Joel couldn't wait to be rid of her. God, the way she chattered incessantly used to grate on Joel’s nerves. He remembers a time when he thought he might just feed himself to a clicker if he had to hear one more of her shitty puns. Now, he's spent a year without her, and there is nothing that he wouldn't give to hear just one more of them. He wishes that Marlene would have just done him the kindness of killing him. His life ended when Ellie's did. Once this is over, he'll have nothing left to fight for. Nothing left to keep going for.

Joel stands at the front door of what he no longer considers his house, and takes a long look around. He mourns the potential that this space once held for him. That day on the rooftop, feeding the giraffe with Ellie, Joel had actually let himself believe that he was going to get a happy ending. Everything he hadn’t dared to think he’d ever have again, not after Sarah, was within his grasp. He and Ellie were going to come back here and make this place something Joel hadn’t had in twenty years. Something that Ellie had never had. A home. Joel would cook dinner, and tell Ellie to be home by 11:00. Then he’d sit up on the couch when she inevitably wasn’t home by then. They’d paint her room and Joel would build her a dresser or something. He grieves the life they would have had together. Joel would teach her to be a better shot, Ellie would go to one of the town dances. He breathes in deeply and takes one last look around. And then he’s out the door, heading across the street. He knocks on Tommy’s door and Maria answers with the baby on her hip. He reaches out for his Uncle Joel, who he has become extremely fond of. “May I?” Joel asks, holding his arms out.

“Please.” Maria says, handing him the baby. “I could use a break. But if he needs a diaper change while you’ve got him, you’re on duty. That’s the rule.” She smiles and steps aside, inviting Joel in. “Tommy! Your brother’s here.” She calls out. Joel appreciates her for not mentioning just how odd it is that Joel has just dropped by, after a year of almost nothing. Of course, she’d bring the baby by to see him, sometimes she’d share a meal with him in the mess hall, wanting to make sure that her son knew his uncle.

“That’s not funny, babe.” Tommy says as he comes out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a threadbare towel. His eyebrows practically leap off his face when he sees Joel standing in his living room, holding his son. “Whaddya doin’ here, Joel?” Tommy asks, eyes filled with concern. Joel wouldn’t be here unless something was wrong. He doubts that his brother had suddenly decided to forgive him, unprompted.

“I’ll take the baby upstairs, it’s time for his nap.” Maria offers, holding her hands out.

Joel gives his nephew a kiss on the head. “See ya ‘round, kid.” He whispers quietly, giving him a soft squeeze. He goes happily to his mother and Maria gives Joel a kiss on the cheek.

“You take care of yourself, okay.” She says. Joel just nods in response.

“What’s up?” Tommy sits on the sofa and gestures for Joel to do the same. He shakes his head and hikes the strap of his pack higher up on his shoulder.

“Just wanted to let ya know I was leavin’.” Joel says. He clenches and unclenches his fist absently. “Alright, well, where ya goin”? Tommy asks. “Montana.” Joel replies. Tommy’s brow furrows in confusion.

“Okay, when ya comin’ back?” Joel looks down at the ground, but doesn’t say anything. “You are comin’ back ain’t ya?” Tommy prods. Joel sniffs and meets his brother’s gaze.

“I doubt it. Just wanted to let ya know so you don’t come lookin’ for me or anything.” Joel’s heart wrenches at the thought of this being his goodbye to his little brother. But he still isn’t willing to take back what he said, or apologize for it. Surprisingly, he has no idea that Tommy doesn’t need any of that shit. He just wants his big brother back. If only Joel knew that Tommy blamed himself for Sarah’s and Ellie’s deaths at least as much as Joel does, probably even more. Tommy stands from the couch and walks towards Joel. He holds his arms open and to his surprise, Joel steps into them. He wraps his own arms around Tommy and squeezes him tight. “I love you, little brother.” He tells Tommy.

“I love you too, Joel. See ya around.” Joel pats him on the back a few times and then he leaves Tommy’s house, and Jackson forever.

It takes Joel three months to catch up to Marlene. He searches every hospital from Bozeman to Billings. He finds little hints of her presence. Spray painted firefly symbols on the walls. Paperwork with scientific equations Joel wouldn’t understand if he’d spent a hundred years in school. Notes that indicate to him that the hack job they did on Ellie was all for nothing. They still didn’t have a cure, weren’t even close to getting one. By Joel’s count, the Fireflies had found at least seven other people who were immune. They had operated on them, same as Ellie. All seven of them had died, same as his daughter. Joel can’t help but wonder if they were left behind, all cut open and exposed, just like her, too. He takes refuge in an old apartment building in downtown Billings. He works his way up to the top floor, room by room, ensuring the building is clear of infected. Once he gets to the top floor, he finds the least disgusting apartment and sets up his sleeping bag on top of the rotting mattress. It wasn’t the best, nothing like the one back in Jackson, but it was a hell of a lot better than ground. At fifty seven years old, Joel could feel that his bones were getting a little too old for this kind of roughing it. He pries open the door to the roof and spends his days sleeping and his nights up there, watching through the scope of his rifle. Looking for any sign of life. On the third night he spots them. The building looks like it used to be a minor emergency clinic. Perfect for what the Fireflies need. He watches all night, until the sun comes up. Several men are stationed outside the building, but not too close. He sees Marlene peek her head out of the door once. She calls out to one of the men and he enters the building. Several trucks are parked at nearby buildings. They’re smart not to park them all together. He’s sure they don’t want to attract any unwanted attention. Of course they’re probably more worried about raiders than Joel.

He sleeps the afternoon away, wanting to be well rested for what he knows is about to happen. The sun is just beginning to set when Joel wakes. He changes his clothes and eats a few ration packs. Then he cleans his rifle and his pistol and takes count of all of his ammo. He tucks the pistol into the waistband of his jeans, at the small of his back. He slings the rifle strap over his shoulder and settles the gun across his chest. His Bowie knife goes into the top of his boot, and his switchblade in his back right pocket. For better or worse, this is it. No matter what, Joel is finishing this tonight. Once night falls, Joel walks down all fifteen flights of stairs. He takes a right when he exits the building. He’s already plotted a path, one that will take him all the way around the building. It allows him to take out each of the four men patrolling the building. Joel is a good hunter. He knows how to be quiet. He’s able to take out each of the men with his Bowie knife. None of them even have a chance to make a sound. Once Joel is certain that the threat outside the building is eliminated, he takes a full lap around the building. He tests every door, every window, finding each of them locked. Not that he expected anything less. Marlene might be insane, but she isn’t stupid. He spies a door that looks a little flimsy, and just as he suspected, the lock pops the second he slides his switchblade in. He takes a deep breath before he opens the door, preparing himself for who, or what might be on the other side.

Joel swings inward slightly and pauses. He doesn’t hear anything so he opens it all the way and steps into the dark hallway. He swings his flashlight around and finds nothing but a few closed doors. He puts his ear up to the doors, one by one, and hears nothing inside. He places his ear up against the door at the other end of the hallway and hears two distinct voices, speaking quietly. Joel has to be very precise with his decision moving forward. This won’t be like the men outside and he doesn’t have the luxury of using his knife for this. The second he begins shooting everyone will be on him. Everyone except Marlene, that is. They all have strict orders to protect her at all costs, keep her alive no matter who else must be sacrificed. Fuck it, Joel thinks, its now or never. Joel swings the door out into the hallway and gets lucky. It separates the two men and allows Joel to take them out, one at a time, one shot to the head each. Just as he expected, shouts come from further in the building. Joel sprints down the hallway and into a room, hoping that it's empty. Luckily it is. It looks to be an exam room that has been gutted. Unfortunately for Joel, there isn’t anywhere to hide in here, so he stands right next to the door. He pulls his pistol from his waistband and holds his arm out, parallel to the wall. He can hear the men, making their way down the hall, throwing open the door to every room. He steels himself, waiting for them to get to his room. The second the door opens he pulls the trigger. The man goes down. His friend comes in right behind and Joel takes him down the same way. He listens for a moment but doesn’t hear anyone else. He sweeps through the building taking down man after man. A man sneaks up behind him. His right ear is bad, so he doesn’t hear him until the last second. Joel turns around and the man's knife sinks into his abdomen. Joel shoots him with his pistol and pulls the knife out, dropping it to the floor. Finally he makes his way to the most interior room. He tried the knob but the door is locked.

“Joel!” He hears from inside. Marlene. “You don’t want to do this, Joel.” She cries.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve been wantin’ to do this.” He calls back. He steps back and kicks the door open. Marlene and Dr. Anderson are in the room, along with his nurses. In the middle of the room is an operating table. A girl, fourteen or fifteen, lies on the table. She’s unconscious, with a tube in her nose. Marlene stands behind her, with a gun to her head.

“One wrong move and I pull the trigger. Don’t test me, Joel.” Marlene snarls.

“Don’t you do it.” Joel tells her. Dr. Anderson moves toward Joel with his scalpel, eerily similar to the way he had a year before. Joel doesn’t hesitate this time, he swings his arm around and fires. The man drops dead at Joel’s feet.

“NO!” Cries Marlene.

Before she even has a chance to do the same, Joel shoots her, right in the middle of her forehead. The two nurses cower in the corner, trembling in fear. “You wake her up and return her to her family, in one piece. If she doesn’t have one, then you take care of her. No more experimentin’, no cuttin’ her open.” The women look up at Joel with tear-filled eyes and nod. “I mean it. I’ve found y’all twice, now. I can find you again, if need be.” Joel doesn’t wait for a response, he just turns and leaves the room. He gets into one of the trucks and drives off, as quick as he can, in the direction of the highway. He pulls over to study his map for a moment, trying to decide where to go. The only place he can think of is Jackson. Back to Tommy, to what remains of his family. The truck runs out of gas just after he passes a sign for Cody, Wyoming. He double checks his bandages and gets out of the car, preparing to walk. He only makes it a few miles before the blood loss gets to be too much. He stumbles off the road and into the snow. Then he hears her. His Ellie, calling for him. But he can’t find her.

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alwaysonf1 · 3 months

Text

wtf just happened?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning: Mild "slander" of French speakers. Language. (Mild)

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: N/A

“Iman.”

Nothing.

“Iman.”

More silence.

“Iman Marie!”

Ignoring the shouting was her plan, but that was when it was from just outside her room. That last one was right in her ear, making her jump and then without looking, she uses the pillow next to her to hit Logan in the head.

The man truly took annoying little brother to heart. And just like any sister she wanted to kill him. Not kill him dead, but just enough so he would leave her alone. Even in the midst of her angst she didn’t want the idiot dead, she would sadly miss him very much.

“Ow!” he says.

“You should have left me alone,” she mumbles into her other pillow.

“No, we have plans. And you moping around like a dork isn’t going to change that. I don’t even know why since you wanted this.”

Iman pushes herself up a little and turns her head at a speed that should hurt her neck. Her eyes narrow on her friend who looks annoyed and amused as he rubs his face. Her accuracy clearly worked in her favor. However, she can’t find it in herself to be happy about that.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” she whines.

“Because you’re being dramatic.” Logan rolls his eyes as he says it and moves out of range for her to throw anything at him.

Not that she plans to throw anything else at him. Iman can’t find the energy to attack him for what he said. Partly because she knows it’s true, even if she does glare at him for it.

There are few times in life she’s felt more like a big baby than now. She’s capable of handling her emotions. Lewis always made it clear that she was allowed and should always accept how she’s feeling because those feelings aren’t wrong, but that she has to temper her reactions. To be fair most of that had to do with her wanting to fight a racist or anyone who had some reach of a comment to say about him, but it wasn’t the only place he ever applied that kind of thing. He always said he knows the influence he’d have on her life and he wanted to ensure that she didn’t have to learn some of the hard parts like he did. Which she appreciated.

But goodness it didn’t help at the moment.

Charles Leclerc kissed her a little less than twenty-four hours ago. Something she’d hope would happen sooner rather than later. Something she was going to try to make happen herself because she was tired of playing whatever game it was that meant she withheld her feelings for the man. And because everyone who knew her was annoying and pestering her.

Now she’s finally experienced it, and her reaction was to play it cool in his face and then put her phone on Do Not Disturb so he couldn’t reach her to talk about it. Something she knows has happened because he’s reached out to Lewis, Logan, Alex and Lily to make sure she’s okay.

More than anything she wishes the urge to vomit stemmed from thinking that Charles wants to tell her that he regrets the kiss. That it meant nothing and that he wants to continue being friends. Or not friends at all. But she doesn’t have that voice in her head. Instead, the one she’s dealing with focuses on what comes next. There are obvious answers, but something about it is stressing her out.

Something she’s wanted for a while now lacks the joy it deserves and it’s driving her up a wall.

She’s acting like Charles. She’s not an overthinker and yet that fucking Monégasque has her in shambles. How dare a French speaking man do this to her at all.

A pillow slams into her face and her head whips back and then forward at a speed that could probably induce whiplash. Logan is sitting on her bed with a pillow in his hands. It’s angled back like he plans to do it again, but then he sets it down.

“What the fuck, Logan?” she shouts.

“Mate, you were zoning out.”

“So, you hit me with a pillow?”

“You hit me first!”

Her hand twitches and moves toward another pillow and he reassumes the position prepared to attack her too.

“I didn’t believe you.”

“I told you.”

The voices draw her attention from her stare down with Logan to her doorway. In it stands Lewis and Sebastian. Iman is familiar with the man and feels comfortable around him, but his presence confuses her so much that the urge to throttle Logan leaves her.

“Hi Seb,” both her and Logan say.

“Hello. Did we walk into a war?” he asks.

“No.”

Lewis rolls his eyes. “Then what did we walk into?”

“Her being stupid.”

Both pillows fly without a word and it’s a flurry of them hitting each other and failing to dodge. It only lasts for what’s probably seconds and both of them have made it off the bed and onto the floor with

“Okay, separate kids.”

Like creepy twins they go from glaring at each other to Lewis and again he rolls his eyes at them. Iman and Logan put the man through a lot, so he’s used to their brand of nonsense.

Sebastian is barely concealing a laugh as he watches all this and Iman fights not to turn her irritation on him. She’d laugh too if she was watching this mess.

Lewis claps his hands and like well trained dogs they release their pillows and sit on her bed. She’s still glaring at her brother, but she’s toned it down.

“You stop hitting her with pillows. You know how she gets.” He points to Logan.

“She started it. I was just defen…” A single look from Lewis shuts him up and Logan huffs, but nods.

“And you.” As he says it all three sets of eyes are intently on me. “Pull it together, yeah. The first few hours were fine, but this is a bit much. I won’t tell you how to feel, but you’re happy about it, he’s happy about it. Stop being a dunce and do something about it. Man is blowing up my phone.”

“Mine too,” Seb chimes in.

“You texted him first,” Lewis says.

A grin that Iman considers evil, because it’s only ever present when he’s up to no good, spreads across Sebastian's face. The man likes to be in the know and he’s fond of his former teammate, so his self-insertion isn’t surprising in the least.

However, as quickly as that look of mischief comes, it goes. Sebastian is still smiling, but there’s a seriousness to his demeanor that makes Iman a little uneasy.

“Don’t hurt his feelings or yours.”

Then they’re both gone.

Iman is unsure of what to do or say, so she just sits there. A million thoughts bubble inside of her head, but she blocks them all out. Lingering on even one of them could lead her back to where she was minutes ago, and Lewis is right. He’s often right.

Logan exhales. “You know I just want you happy, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So be happy. You’ve been pining after the guy for a while now. He’s finally made it clear he’s ready and available. That he feels something for you, even if you don’t fully know what that is yet. Don’t play around and overthink it. You’ll kick yourself for it later. Hell, I know you’re doing it now.”

She nods but says nothing. Still doesn’t know what to say, but she does lean her head down on Logan’s shoulder. The gesture is one of the usual casual affection, but also a silent thank you. He knew what to say and she knew that before he’d even shown up at her place, thus her ignoring his pestering to begin with. Being stubborn is on brand for her.

He pats her head and then abruptly he stands up, leaving her barely any time to adjust herself so she doesn’t fall over. The glare is back on her face, but Logan just smiles as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Now get up and get ready. We’re already running late and you’re the one who begged me to come try that new place with you.”

She rolls her eyes, but nods.

Logan heads toward the door, but then turns around. He tosses something at her, and she flinches a little, but is calmed by her phone landing on her legs.

“Oh, and text him back.”

Then he too is gone. Probably to raid the fridge.

Iman’s gaze doesn’t leave the phone in her lap even as a retort is on the tip of her tongue. She doesn’t hate when Logan’s right, however when she’s in a mood it can be annoying. And the addition of him, Lewis, and Sebastian Vettel, all calling her out takes it to another level.

They’re right and she wants to stop feeling like such a mess over it. All these emotions are overwhelming, and the real problem is she can’t isolate any of them so they can be tackled one by one. Hell, she can’t even get them down to pairs.

What is obvious to her is that she’s happy and hopes that a step has been taken in the right direction. That this will hopefully lead to her no longer having to deal with getting her hopes up just for another girl to show up on his arm. That phrasing makes it seem like it’s constant and he’s never been single for a second between girlfriends, but even when there are months between them it always feels like it was nothing more than a day for her.

A soft scream escapes her lips, and she falls back onto the bed. She’s overthinking again and it’s close to sending her into a spiral. The last thing she needs is that, especially when he’s part of the summer vacation group. This putting a damper on things is out of the question and she refuses to be awkward like some little kid dealing with their crush.

With a sigh she sits up, tosses the phone on the bed, and gets up. Without a second glance she walks into her bathroom and closes the door.

####

Charles stares at his phone like he’s done for the past few hours. He tried to tell himself that Iman drank quite a bit the night before so she might still be recovering. Or that she wants a chill day and is away from her phone, something he’s witnessed first-hand. Hell, he’s even thrown in that maybe she’s just busy despite knowing that Williams refuses to call in their people on their days off without an emergency and both drivers have told him there hasn’t been one and that she’s fine.

Which means she’s intentionally not responding to him. And he is trying so hard not to seem desperate that the possibility of her regretting kissing him is all he can think about. Something he’s reassured himself that isn’t true. Something his brothers and friends have told him is a dumb idea to even entertain. But he can’t help but wonder if he fucked up when she won’t respond to him.

As he sits there, he tries to tell himself he needs to get ready for the early dinner he promised a group of his friends that he’d attend. But he can’t break his eyes away. Which he thinks is fucking ridiculous. That he is yet again being ridiculous.

So, he closes his eyes and takes a breath. Then without opening them he gets up from the couch and turns away from it and his phone. His eyes open and he takes a step. His phone makes a high-pitched sound and vibrates like crazy.

Like a man possessed he turns around and snatches it up. It’s unlocked before he can truly think to do it and then his eyes are glued to the message, his body sitting without him telling it to.

Air leaves his lungs and Charles melts into his couch. His entire body relaxes, and he feels the corners of his lips inch upward, something they hadn’t done since he realized Iman was ignoring his attempts to reach out.

His friends would never let him hear the end of it if he ever admitted how much that simple greeting did for him.

#charles leclerc x black reader #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x black!reader #formula one x black reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x black!reader #formula one x reader #charles leclerc fan fiction #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 fan fiction #f1 imagine #formula one x oc #formula 1 x oc #charles leclerc x oc

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hotreadingwitch · 6 months

Text

MADE TO LIE - the confession

Content Warnings/Kinks: praise kink, dominance, hickeys, scratching, cum swallowing/cum play, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected vaginal sex

BUCKY

Bucky woke up to find the sun streaming in through the large, paned hotel window. Taking in a sleepy breath, he could barely believe how well this mission had worked out for him in the end. Though he’d almost been caught the night before, almost being forced to return to his life as the Winter Soldier, he’d also found someone who he valued as more than just a colleague or a teammate. The smile that painted his face when he turned over to see Y/n still sleeping, hair spread around her on the pillow in a messy halo and his shirt buttoned up over her frame, was both wide and pure. Last night, she’d insisted on wearing the oversized item, ignoring the fact that it looked more like a short dress on her than a shirt. He’d given in, of course, wanting her to have every comfort that she desired, especially with the complex pain he knew she must be feeling after the confrontation with the Cranes and her father.

It took him just 10 minutes to get two coffees from a sweet barista at the cafe below the hotel and return to their suite. When he got back, Y/n was still asleep, likely exhausted. He placed the coffees on the bedside table before sitting on the edge, beside Y/n’s slumbering form.

“Doll,” he woke her, with a gentle hand on her shoulder, his voice quiet and comforting.

She swatted at him, her hand sharp and fast as a bullet but one that he dodged easily, mumbling grumpily, “Bucky…”

“You’ve got to get up eventually doll, why not now?”

“I never pegged you as a morning person” she smiled then, a small but genuine grin.

A tense silence formed quickly in the echo of her words as her smile faltered, the events of the night before playing out in both their minds.

“I think we should talk…” Bucky started.

“About?”

“Y/n…”

“About what, Bucky?” she raised a shaky eyebrow, her calm mask cracking.

Bucky sighed before pushing through, “About what your father sai—”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Y/n hesitated, interrupting before letting out a low whisper, “Talking about it will ruin everything Bucky, he ruins everything”

He came towards her, his gaze soft, “Please doll, hear me out…If we decided to continue whatever this is I think you might be the best thing that could ever happen to me” Her sleepy eyes turned up to look at him hopefully, the sight practically breaking his heart as he pushed himself to continue, “…But I’d probably be the worst thing that could happen to you”

“You’re wrong, you know that?” she whispered back bravely, “I’ve been through the worst already, there’s nothing you could do that could break me now…I want you Bucky, please”

“That’s not exactly good Y/n” he sighed, frustrated but still speaking calmly, sadly, “You’ve been through so much that if I ruined your entire life you wouldn’t even blink an eye. That’s—that’s toxic. I don’t want to be the next thing that hurts you”

“You won’t be” she stated plainly.

“I’m not fully—“ he paused, “There’s still work I have to do before I’m good…what if I make a mistake that causes you more pain?”

“Then you’ll learn”

He ran an exasperated hand through his cropped hair, grasping at straws, “I still have nightmares—what happens if you’re in my bed and I kill you in my sleep?”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take” she replied strongly, “Listen, I can’t picture my future without you anymore…everybody needs somebody Bucky and you’re my somebody”

“But what if I—”

“I know Bucky, I know, okay? Do you think I don’t get what it’s like to make mistakes? To have done bad things? To have regrets?” she said, trying her best to keep her voice calm despite her jumping heart rate. She took his calloused hands in her own, and he let her, “I know what it’s like to be afraid of yourself, believe me. But we can do it together, learn how to be better together…I’m willing Bucky, you just have to trust me”

He squeezed her hands with his own, searching her eyes, for what, even he didn’t know.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to be the man that you need, that you deserve, and that I’ll give my all to you and it still won’t be enough. I don’t want this to end in heartbreak.” His eyes softened, misty, yet without any tears falling like he was trying to keep himself together and failing miserably. That ball in his stomach was rolling around, wreaking havoc. And yet, Y/n’s words were making the feeling calmer by the second, making him feel like he could reach for what he wanted without fear for the first time.

“It’s always going to be a risk”

“I haven’t taken many of those in my life, not really, but all the brave people I know have. Steve. Sam. Natasha. You…” He paused, brushing her cheek gently with his knuckle. “You have, you’re so brave Y/n, more brave than you could ever know.”

“It’s always going to be a risk Bucky” she repeated quietly, her words striking him at his core.

“I’ve lived a long and loveless life Y/n,” he rasped with a wet chuckle, continuing even when she opened her mouth to interrupt, “No, listen, please. Yes, I’ve had good friends and good family but never…love, not like this. I don’t want to give up on us doll—So maybe I can be brave for you if you let me, and we’ll be alright?”

“We will be, I know it” She leaned toward him, hesitating before planting a gentle kiss on his stubbly cheekbone.

“How?” he huffed with a small smile, having already admitted defeat.

“I just do” she kissed his cheek again, “I just do…”

Y/N

His lips touched her forehead in one intimate motion before he trailed down to her mouth, capturing her in a kiss that she’d likely never forget.

Her hands traced down from the sturdy contour of his jaw to his neck to his chest to his arms, metal and flesh, barely able to keep her hands off of him. His gaze pierced her before he tucked his lips to the crook of her neck, making her groan at the sensation. There was heat between them, sure, a heat that was quickly growing from a small flame into a full, blazing fire but it was the warmth in Bucky’s eyes, the unabashed trust, and the grounding feeling she gained from each kiss, that truly made her feel red-hot.

She pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side before he began to unbutton his own shirt that she was still wearing from the night before. The cool air hit her nipples, making them peak. They kissed and kissed and kissed, Y/n reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck as they did, groaning into his mouth. When she finally pulled back, her eyes scanned over his body, taking his armour off piece by imaginary piece. It felt good—being vulnerable with him, touching him—so good that she felt the full-bodied sense of love settling deep in her bones.

“Please don’t make me wait any longer” she begged, her hands grazing the band of his pants as she sat down on the bed’s edge, him towering over her.

“The coffees are going to go cold…” he hesitated with a shy smirk.

“I don’t care” she breathed as Bucky sunk to his knees.

She spread her legs instinctively, needing his mouth on her more than she needed anything. In that moment, she thought she’d take a single orgasm from him over her own happiness, though, she had a feeling that he’d never leave her without either, pleasure or joy, ever again.

“Please” her whimpered plea was desperate yet unashamed.

When he connected his mouth to her it sent a sharp feeling instantly through her body, one that went straight to her clit.

“Fuck” she gasped, immediately gripping her hands in his short hair.

He kissed the sensitive area, looking up at her, “That feel good doll?”

She ground her hips upward, arching to meet his soft lips.

“Yes—shit—yes, it feels so good Bucky”

He chuckled darkly before reconnecting to her, his tongue sweeping over her wet hole before moving up toward her clit. He used his strong fingers to part her lips, spreading them so that he had better access to the sensitive area. He started slow, licking at her languidly, making her breath hitch and her hips buck upward restlessly. But Y/n’s low whines and her tight grip on his hair made him go faster and faster as if he couldn’t resist giving her the pleasure she craved until his tongue was moving so quickly back and forth it was a blur across her clit.

“I can’t get over how good you taste doll—fuck” he groaned as he lapped lower with his tongue, teasing her needy hole before returning to her clit.

She arched again, shivering at the way the slight change in angle made the feeling of his licking at her clit even more intense.

“I can’t take—fuck—please Bucky, I need you in me now”

Removing his mouth from her, he took his fingers and caressed her sopping hole. Holding it up to the light, he groaned at the sight of her wetness. Y/n looked down, gulping as she noticed the hard, strained bulge waiting in his pants. Her eyes widened even more then, pupils blown with pure desire, as he brought her slick to his lips, tasting her without shame. “You really do taste so good” he chuckled, smiling handsomely when the comment made her flush.

His fingers returned to her hole, gently moving them around and around without once pushing into her. His small smile was dangerous.

“You’re ready to take it doll?” he questioned, kissing her inner thigh as he teased her.

She shivered in response, whining his name, “Bucky…”

“I asked you a question” he glared from below, his dominance taking over, “Don’t make me ask you again”

“Yes” she rushed her response, “I want it, please Bucky, I need to feel you inside me”

He praised her skin with his mouth, tracing sloppy kisses down her neck to the space between her breasts before finally removing his pants and positioning himself in front of her. Her legs wrapped around him as she balanced her ass on the edge of the massive bed.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes—God, Bucky if you don’t—“

Her words fell off in an instant as he slid the first half of himself into her. She’d somehow forgotten just how big he was, letting out a hiss and a loud moan at the immediate feelings of pleasure.

“You’re so fucking tight around me doll” he spat out, his voice a low growl.

He was only halfway in her and still, she clenched around him desperately, needing more, more, more.

“Deeper, deeper please” she begged.

With a huff he pushed deep into her until he was fully seated inside, her walls squeezing around him.

“F—fuck” he growled, his breathing heavy as he started to thrust.

The feeling of his full length slamming into her was overwhelming, to say the least. It was heat and tension and desperation and adoration all mixed together. She rocked her hips along with his in perfect rhythm, moving completely in sync with him. Her breath hitched as he ground into her, placing his hands, both flesh and metal on her hips. The more she arched the better he felt inside her like he was reaching parts of her that she didn’t even know were there.

“Hold on…” he commanded, his voice dark as he thrust and thrust, “Hold onto me doll—fuck”

She reached her hands around him, scratching them down his back, making him growl. He pushed further into her, the weight of him between her legs made them spread even wider. She arched, groaning as he returned his lips to her neck, sucking, leaving a trail of marks behind, marks that declared she was his.

“Bucky” she moaned, lost to the haze of the pleasure, “I need—“

In an instant his fingers were on her clit sliding back and forth across her wet pussy, beginning to please her just how he knew she liked it. His thrusts were harsh and full of need, hers as much as his. Her gaze flitted upward, startling at the pure desire that was reflected in his eyes. It felt good to be pleasured, to be worshipped by him.

“From the moment my lips touched your body—fuck—from the moment I met you” he whispered with reverence, planting kisses down the length of her neck, “I’ve known you were the one”

“I—Bucky,” she cried out, her words interrupted by her moans.

“Tell me doll, let me hear it,” he groaned, eyes fiery.

“I feel the same way…about you” she whimpered, feeling her release coming closer and closer Her hands grazed over his body, over his arms—one cool metal under her fingertips and the other truly warmer than the sun, “You’ve always been the one for me”

Bucky thrust down into her as his fingers fiercely rubbed over her clit, bringing her closer and closer to the edge, all while kissing her neck, her jaw, and her forehead.

“Bucky” she moaned, her breathing laboured.

“I can feel you cumming” he strained, brushing a stray hair from her face in one intimate swipe, “so fucking tight—such a good girl for me”

She tensed before the sensitivity ricocheted through her entire being, making her chest and legs shake beneath him as he gripped her waist while the other hand played with her clit. As she came it felt like dying, an intense, body-rocking death that was quickly followed by the most glorious of rebirths. Bucky came just after her and Y/n held his shoulders as he did, supporting him like he had held her, his deep, breathy moans tickling her ear.

“Fuck, fuck” he groaned before collapsing beside her.

She straddled him then, easing on top of him, mindful of his still slick cock throbbing below her, leaning forward to kiss him. His strong hands ran up the length of her back, practically cradling her as he kissed her back.

“Thank you” she whispered, feeling fully satiated and hopeful for their future.

“Thank you, doll” he kissed her cheek. Pushing her hair back again out of her face, properly gazing at her with love and affection, both their hearts feeling full.

Bucky and Y/n’s relationship was delicate. One wrong move could cause disaster but it seemed that neither of them really cared anymore. They both knew well then that everything is always a risk. They knew too that love, true love, was one worth taking.

A/N - This is the last chapter of this mini-series/novella!! Thank you all for so much love with this, I'll be forever grateful that the chapters have been so well-received here and on Wattpad. The epilogue chapter will be on Christmas Day or the day after!

requested account tags: cjand10 identity2212 bucky-jbb-sunshine unaxv hnnhbananananana @differenttyphoonwerewolf

#fanfiction #fanfic #marvel smut #marvel #marvel fanfic #mcu #mcu fanfiction #bucky smut #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #smut

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dexlexia · 1 year

Text

protection - aki x reader

pairing: aki hayakawa x reader rating: 18+ summary: Aki was a gentle lover, he really was. He was always so afraid of hurting you, he said he had seen enough chaos in the world that the idea of leaving you hurt and bruised made him sick to his stomach. So he held you in high esteem, his beautiful partner both on and off the field. He was also a huge advocate for safe sex, the last thing you both needed right now was a child. tags: safe sex, smut, pwp, gentle sex, sweet sex, fluff & smut

complimentary fic to: bareback - kishibe x reader

Aki was a gentle lover, he really was. He was always so afraid of hurting you, he said he had seen enough chaos in the world that the idea of leaving you hurt and bruised made him sick to his stomach. So he held you in high esteem, his beautiful partner both on and off the field. He was also a huge advocate for safe sex, the last thing you both needed right now was a child.

Imagining how chaotic the apartment would be made chills run up Aki's spine. The two devils he lived with would probably cook the baby in a soup or leave them on the balcony all day. It was bad enough that Aki had to take care of them plus a cat. So right now a baby wasn't in the cards, sadly it might never be in the deck.. Aki was no longer on a suicide mission to kill the Gun Devil, every time he saw you it gave him a notion that maybe there was more to life than killing devils, but time was slipping from him. So he cherished every moment spent with you.

It was late when you got back to Aki's apartment. You practically had to carry Denji in. You and the dark-haired man put the other two to bed before you got settled in yourselves. Aki made you some tea and you sat by the table, the other pair slumbering nearby as you both sat in silence and drank. You noticed in the lights of the room just how blue Aki's eyes were. You smiled at him and he smiled back, no words were exchanged but you both could reach one another.

Eventually you said, "You're very handsome, Aki." Then took another sip, you stretched out your leg to rub against his, "I feel like I don't tell you that enough." You smiled over the cup.

Aki blushed for a moment before he took a hasty sip, "You are too... I mean you're beautiful." He wasn't the best at expressing romantic emotions but he tried his best for you. To be fair to this kind of work, you have to not know how to express emotions. But to make this work, you and Aki tried to play to your strengths. He rubbed his ankle against yours and continued to drink. He asked, "Do you want to-"

Your smile turned into a grin over the cup, "Are you asking me for sex, Aki?"

He blushed more, "Yes I am, possibly, maybe." You chuckled, not too loud as to not wake up Power and Denji. It only made Aki blush more as he lowered his head and his cheeks grew red. He wasn't a sex machine, in reality he only had a handful of experiences. Most of which were with you.

You finished your tea quickly and got up. You rounded the table and held out your hand, "Well, then. Let's get going then before these two wake up." Aki took your hand and you led him to the bedroom. There you sat on the bed and started to unbutton your blouse. You could feel his blue eyes on your chest as you took off the top.

He started to get undressed too. Your eyes lingered on his toned chest, your eyes met and he gave you a small smile before he started to unbutton his pants. Soon everything was off the both of you. He soon came to the bed and the two of you started to kiss, the sound of lips together filled the room as he started to feel up your body. You hand eventually found his cock and started to stroke it gently.

"Fuck." "Shit." You both said as you began to pleasure one another at the foot of the bed. The kiss became deeper and soon you were both lying on the bed, hands between legs as you continued to get each other off. Aki's breathing grew rough the more you stroked his cock. He soon pulled away from your lips and took his fingers out of your slick pussy.

You watched him lean over to the nightstand and grab a condom from the drawer. He had to get better at hiding these since Power and Denji moved in, the condoms were put between pages of books. The last place the devils would look. He came back to you and started to undo the wrapper. He soon got on his knees and moved in between your legs. He put the condom on with ease and then grabbed you by the legs.

You let out a small yelp as he pulled you further down the bed to meet his cock. He held onto your hip and rubbed his protected his cock up against your pussy. The sound that came from it was erotic as the two of you wanted it so badly. He could see a blush on his face in the low light. The small noise he made as he gripped his cock to rub against you. You in turn moaned as you felt the weight of his cock up against your wet cunt.

"That's it, baby." He said softly as he rolled his hips. He licked his top lip before he lined up his cock with your hole, "Ready?"

"For you, Aki. Always." You held onto the bed under you and kept your legs open as he slowly inserted his cock into you. You winced but soon relaxed as he pushed all the way in. Soon his chest was against yours, bodies close together as he started to thrust. He kept the pace nice and even, not too rough. He never wanted to be too rough. The intimacy from gentle, sweet sex meant more to you than anything. Your lips found one another as the two of you continued to make love under the low light.

Aki loved you, it was a burning desire to protect what little he had left in this world. He'd take every moment to tell you how much he loved you, how much he wanted to spend time with you, he wanted to make every last moment count. He was never too sure if tomorrow would be the last, so quiet intimate moments like these meant everything to Aki. He held onto your hips and continued to thrust.

"Fuck, you feel good." He said.

"You're not too bad yourself, Aki." You chuckled in response before you pulled him back into a soft kiss. You started to move your hips too in pace with Aki's movements. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him as close as he could possibly get. You wanted Aki inside and out, in every way, all the time. Your heart raced as the two of you humped in the glow of moonlight. He pulled away and looked into your eyes before you pulled him in for another kiss.

The sounds of sex filled the room, Aki's hands roamed your body as you kept your arms around his neck. He loved to feel every curve, every scar, every mole. He wanted to feel every inch of skin on your body, he wanted to feel up his beautiful girlfriend. Your bodies continued to move together as you heard the snoring from the other two in the living room.

"Aki."

"Yes, dear."

"Be mine forever." You said, so quietly he could barely hear you. You felt pleasure pool in your gut as you continued to have sex with the man. The kisses became messier as the heat in the room grew, between kisses there was heavy breathing between you two as you tried to catch your breath. His cock throbbed inside of you as you two kept going. The air in the room felt thick as you moved, sweaty bodies up against one another.

You moaned quietly as he rocked his hips, his cock prodded inside of you which made you see stars. Your hips rolled seductively to meet his pace and the two of you moaned and panted. Your breathing labored as the movements continued. There was nothing quite like having sex with Aki, you two weren't pros but it was comfortable and sweet. He was an adoring partner who loved you very dearly.

He wasn't the best at expressing his love through words, but he showed it in other ways. Tried not to smoke when you were around, a fresh pastry in the kitchen when you woke up, the occasional hand holding when not on patrol, every three months he got you another plant to add to your collection on your window sill in your apartment. There were many things that Aki did to show that he loved you, having tender sex with you was another. As his body pressed against yours, you could feel his heartbeat against yours. Forever intertwined.

Not even death could separate the bond you two had. You two continued, the feeling of orgasmic rush was starting to take root. Your kisses continued in an effort to keep quiet, but it was hard with the squeaking of the bed and your heavy breathing. You felt hot all over from the activity. This felt like an intimate paradise as the two of you moved.

You made a small noise when Aki broke the kiss, and soon he came back in to deliver another one. His tongue grazed your bottom lip and you moaned against the kiss. You tightened around his cock which made it jump a little from the sensation. "Ah, Aki."

"That's it, baby." He said quietly, "That's it." His face landed on your neck, feeling the sweat against his nose as he continued to rut against you, his pace was losing focus as he felt closer to orgasm. You moaned a little bit but then bit your lip to keep yourself quiet while he worked your body. You knew you'd have to shower afterwards from the sheer amount of sweat that was on your skin.

He gently praised you, you lived for it. Knowing that you were doing a good job meant so much to him. It was an amazing feeling in your eyes, he called you his good girl, his beloved, his one and only. It was almost too mushy, but you enjoyed it nonetheless. It made it feel so intimate as you held onto him.

Soon the feeling grew, you were getting close to orgasm. Your paces were mismatched but nonetheless you two were experiencing the height of pleasure. With a loud noise, that could probably be heard next too, you came around his cock. And with a few loose, quick thrusts he finished in the condom. He let out a moan that he quickly covered his mouth with his hand to keep quiet.

You both felt the energy drain from you as you started to come down from the high. Aki took off the condom and buried it under some trash in a wastebin close by. He quickly opened a window to let the smell of sex out of the room. He soon returned to you and flopped beside you on the bed.

You quickly got him in your arms and pulled the tie out of his hair so he could be more comfortable. His face was against your shoulder as you two relaxed in an orgasmic heat. He held you close, never wanting to let you go. As your leg tangled together in bed, he softly kissed your warmed skin.

Aki felt like paradise to you, it was a comfort that you had never afforded yourself previously. But being with him now made all the difference. You wanted to stay with him for the rest of your days. Call it young love, you didn't care. You just wanted Aki in every way you could get him. And you'd protect him till your last breath.

"You're amazing." He said softly, "Never met someone like you before." He rolled onto his back and held your hand as his breathing began to level out, "Don't... Don't leave me," He said.

You looked at him and grasped his hand, "Don't worry, I don't have any reason to leave."

"Good."

#dexlexia writes #Aki Hayakawa #chainsaw man aki #aki x reader #aki smut #csm fanfic #aki csm #aki chainsaw man #Chainsaw man #chainsaw man smut #chainsaw man x reader #aki #aki fanfic #csm x reader #csm x you

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tanadrin · 6 months

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Is it plausible that children are most often abused by people that they know (rather than strangers) because we've steadily and consistently reduced the capacity for children to interact with strangers in potentially abusive situations? I'm pretty sure that's not the case, but you've frequently discussed the topic and it seems like you'd know if there was anything to back up the idea.

I think children are most often abused and exploited by people they know because children spend most of their time around people they know, and children have a marked lack of autonomy in our society. In the past (and, sadly, too often in the present still) there has been a marked taboo around discussing these issues, a refusal to educate children in age-appropriate ways about sex (meaning they often don't even have the language to explain what has happened to them), and a reluctance to believe victims of abuse. In fact, I think the real incidence of CSA has probably gone down markedly in the last 75 years, but it's hard to get clear numbers on this bc for so long we refused to admit the problem even existed. A problem people refuse to acknowledge exists will of course seem to have a much lower rate of occurrence than one people openly acknowledge.

Stranger danger has never been the primary risk to children. The primary risk to children is parents, relatives, teachers, pastors, and other figures of authority in their lives. That's true for CSA, and for physical abuse, and for emotional abuse. And it makes sense; if you were the kind of person to abuse or terrorize or sexually exploit a child, the easiest children for you to target are children in your community, where your reputation and authority can protect you, where nobody could possibly believe such an awful thing, but you know, poor Bobby has always been troubled, etc., etc.

There is no clean solution to this problem. I think most parents, and most people who spend a lot of time around children by choice, do so because they genuinely like and want good things for them! I think the best protection against child abuse and exploitation is being open and communicative with children, educating them in age-appropriate ways, giving them the tools to defend their autonomy, and making sure that when they have problems they are heard.

And incidentally, I think a similar approach is also the best tool for online safety for kids. It's a lot harder for strangers with bad intentions (who do exist, though they are not the primary risk to children) to target kids with a stable, loving home life, who aren't ashamed to talk to their parents or to other adults in their lives about what's going on, and whose feelings and autonomy are respected by those adults. We cannot arrest and punish our way to a world that is safe for children! This is an authoritarian lie we tell ourselves, because the truth--that there is no escape from the hard work of actually caring for and about each individual child--implicates how we think about children in uncomfortable ways.

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griefabyss69 · 6 months

Note

steddie rated m or e 😈

not gonna be picky but maybe something inspired by this line: “you would forget your underwear”

Mostly because I believe in my heart that you could write something devastatingly sexy about something so very silly. Congrats on 100 followers!!!

Hiiiii~ this is probably still more silly than sexy but they're like, horny about it <3 So I hope you still enjoy!!! Steddie - Rated: M - 1121 Words

(Full thing under the cut!)

contains: One terrible moment of wordplay and Steve pushing Eddie's buttons (sexy)

"Listen," Eddie begins as he turns his back, hands at his waistband. "I know you've got jock socialization, but maybe close your eyes or something."

Steve hears that, and sure, of course he'll do whatever makes him comfortable – but they've changed in front of each other like a hundred times by now. He could literally go out and buy the exact same brand and size of boxers that Eddie wears if he wanted, if wasn't Sunday and the stores weren't closed.

"Alright," he says, turning his back too for added security. "You wearing something lacy tonight?"

It's a joke.

It's only a joke, but Steve thinks if Eddie said yes then he wouldn't be walking out of this room until his jaw was sore and he owed Eddie a new pair of lace underpants.

It gets a reedy laugh out of him though, makes the awkward air between them a little tense in another way, but sadly Eddie squashes his hopes and dreams before he can get too carried away brainstorming how to convince Eddie in a totally no pressure way that he should let Steve put his mouth on his cock.

"Nah, I uh," Eddie laughs, shaky. "There's just… nothing."

Nothing.

Well, that's a hell of a lot sexier than his boxers, that's for fucking sure.

Steve bites his lip, nods in encouragement before he remembers they're not even facing each other, and puts a smile on his face so it comes through in his voice–

"You would forget your underwear," he says, maybe overkill on the teasing but he practically hears the sizzle of Eddie's blush from here. "You get distracted by a sick guitar riff while getting dressed?"

Eddie groans, and it sounds like he finally bites the bullet, his belt clinking as he works his pants off.

The zipper, the denim brushing against itself, against all of Eddie's bare skin, that's a sound that would get Steve to skip his briefs in the morning.

He'd skip everything else too.

"No, you asshole," he says, but he's got a chuckle in his voice and there's the soft rustle of him pulling a pair of Steve's sweats on. "Just a super-duper miscalculated laundry day."

"Ohhh, I see. You got lazy at the wrong time," he continues to tease, and once he's sure Eddie's not all balls-out, he turns to gauge how red he's made him.

It's not as red as he knows he can get, and he seems tense in a specific way, like that time he got a major hard on in the middle of movie night and nothing he did would get rid of it. Steve still thinks about when he had to jerk off in the upstairs bathroom on slow days at work.

"Hey, I'm usually really good at laundry!" Eddie says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Uh huh," Steve says, just to be a bitch, even though he believes him, doesn't really care about it either way. "Maybe you didn't forget at all."

Eddie scoffs, kicks at his leg.

"I literally just said I didn't forget. I ran out, and didn't think you'd want my dirty underwear in your bed."

Well… he's right about that.

"So thoughtful of you," he says as dryly as possible. "Do you think it would be sexier if you wore lace in those jeans, or was today sexy enough for you?"

He narrows in on the crimson spilling over his skin like someone tipped over a paint bucket, the way his mouth opens a little bit in shock, the way his eyebrows furrow at him with a hunted look.

Steve could hunt him for real, sink his teeth right in, with how crazy it makes him.

"You talk like that in the locker room, Harrington?" Eddie asks, shifting restlessly, and – okay.

Steve's distracted from the last name thing because Eddie's cock swings when he moves, clearly starting to get hard, totally free under the sweatpants.

"Never," he says, eyes locked in, unable to even pretend he's not pushing like a million buttons right now and hoping nothing blows up in his face. "Answer the question."

"Jesus," Eddie mutters, rubbing his hand over his face. "Are you having fun with this?"

Steve looks up long enough to meet his eyes and give him the most sincere nod he can muster up.

"You're the worst," Eddie laughs, gathering his hair up to get it off of his hot neck, before he lets it all drop in a sweep, way too graceful for the condition it's in. "And… I think they'd be two different kinds of sexy, you can't really make them compete."

It's such an unexpected answer and it also makes so much sense. It's like Eddie's thought about it before, and isn't that something.

"So it was sexy? How long were you free balling?" He asks, taking a step closer just to see what Eddie does.

"All day," Eddie's voice doesn't really crack, but it fries, and Steve wants to push right up against him to see what else he can get it to do. "It was… too uh… I just felt kind of exposed."

God.

"Well, if you still feel like that, you can always borrow some shorts," he says, because while he's riding the line, he wants Eddie to have the option to step back behind it. "Or is it different since you're just in my house?"

Eddie blinks rapidly as if he's building a shield with his eyelashes, making some lightspeed decisions that Steve guesses he'll never hear about.

"I'm okay," he says, shifting from one foot to the other in such a subtle movement that if Steve wasn't studying him then he wouldn't notice the purpose of it. "Also these are a lot softer than my jeans."

Steve laughs, even as he watches the outline of Eddie's shaft twitch. He's getting a little harder.

"Your poor cock," he says, drawing up all of his strength so he doesn't offer to soothe it with his mouth. "It needs to get used to it, huh?"

Eddie's mouth does a wry twist, his eyebrows furrowed like he's perplexed, but there's something brewing in his skull that Steve knows he's going to pretend to hate.

"What, like commando training?" He asks, and Steve bites his lip.

That's actually kind of clever. All of Eddie's worst puns are, because that's how they get stuck in Steve's head.

"You're fucking terrible," he sighs, just to give him the reaction he wants.

Eddie beams.

"Nah, I'm incredible," he says, sarcastically flipping his hair in a way that he used to do to make fun of Steve.

Now he just does it all the time like, ironically, or so he says.

"Incredibly terrible, yes."

#griefabyss69 writing #stranger things fanficiton #steddie #steddie fanfiction #fun things #chats from the abyss #I still have 7 left if anyone wants to prompt me!!! I'll reblog the OG post right after posting this

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writeyouin · 7 months

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Can i request reader and mtmte skids spending time together at swerves, with the conversation going to bad pick up lines. Skids takes it as a challenge and what starts off as cheesy pick up lines devolves into smooth come ons that has Reader flushing like mad and badly keeping their composure as Skids tries to figure out what makes them tick. Thanks!!!

Skids X Reader - Pick Me Up and Take Me Home

A/N – So, I wrote this twice because the first copy accidentally got deleted today. Oh well, I’m happy with it.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

“Grab your coat, you’ve pulled.”

You looked at the mech addressing you to see if he was telling a joke. One minute, you were sitting peacefully on a barstool at Swerve’s, reading your book (a universal sign of not wanting to be disturbed) then there was this mech, telling you you’d pulled, in a lame attempt to ‘pull’ you himself.

What was his name? Roller? Gearhead? Something else entirely? Honestly, you had no idea. He wasn’t one of your friends aboard the Lost Light. Probably just another mech too curious about sex with a human for all the wrong reasons. It wasn’t that you wouldn’t be intimate with a bot, but to borrow a worn-out phrase, they could at least buy you dinner first.

“No thanks,” You said coolly.

“Sorry, what?”

You sighed and closed your book, swivelling your seat so as to face the offending bot.

“No thank you,” You enunciated the words slowly and loudly.

“But- But Getaway said that would work,” The unnameable bot wheedled. “Was it the pick-up line itself?”

“Honestly, it was a myriad of things,” You replied, irked that you were forced to continue such an inane conversation. “But for the sake of your ego, sure, let’s say it was just the pick-up line. If you knew anything about me, you’d know that that is one of the lines I hate the most. There’s no witty wordplay, it’s grossly presumptuous, and really, it’s just dull, overused, and lazy.”

“Oh…”

“But hey, that’s just my opinion. So, why don’t you go and try it on someone else. Go on, off you pop,” You said nodding your head towards the exit.

The bot lamely left, not even bothering to walk; he used the wheels on his pedes to roll away sadly. You still didn’t know what he was called, but with a depressing exit like that, you decided to nickname him Mopey Joe in lieu of anything better.

Now that you were free, you swivelled your chair back to the bar. You were about to re-open your book, when a voice to your left said, “Were you on Star Trek because someone set their phaser to stunning.”

You glanced at the bot who sat on the corner stool. He had been there all night, reading something on his data pad. You knew his name, even though you had scarcely spoken to him before.

Skids.

He was memorable.

You had seen him around the ship multiple times, always doing something different. He seemed to hold the belief that any skill was worth learning.

“Really? You too?” You asked sardonically, your hand on your cheek. “This another one of your skills, or are you just trying to beat the last guy?”

“Just having some fun is all, unless you’re not up for it,” Skids grinned, an unspoken challenge in his tone.

“I’m up for it if you are,” You perked up, glad to poke fun at the failed flirtation.

“Good, because it’s your turn.”

“If I could rearrange the alphabet-”

“I’d put you and I together,” He finished for you. “A little overused, isn’t it?”

“Just a warm-up,” You said tartly.

“Okay,” Skids stroked his chin, his processor filled to the brim with things he could say. He wanted to win. There was no prize, but life was a game, and he, its champion player. “What’s your favourite number?”

You raised an eyebrow, to which he inclined his head as if suggesting you play along.

“All right, I’ll bite, uh… 42.”

“42? That’s alright, I suppose. My favourite number is yours.”

“Smooth, if the other participant is playing,” You conceded. “Uhh… Okay, I got one. I’ve heard of Optimus Prime, but you hottie, are Optimus Fine.”

“Ooh, your tone really helped carry that one. Suggestive, but not too much, a nice flirty edge. That was good, and well catered to Cybertronians. Impressive.”

And so the game went on. Occasionally one of you would pause to order the other a drink or to ask a general question about each other’s lives.

You learned that Skids was a theoretician, who tended to daydream.

“Was that an electric shock? Nope, just the thrum of my spark when I saw you.”

He, in turn, learned that you enjoyed comic books, films with practical effects, and weren’t sure what job you wanted on the ship; only that you desperately wanted to find some area to work in.

“I didn’t believe in God, but there must be one if someone as stunning as you exists.”

He loved Earth music and had developed a collection since being stationed there years ago.

“Are you secretly a Decepticon? Because you have conned me into loving you.”

He found that you were actually at Swerve’s trying to learn how to adapt to social situations since you usually felt too awkward to enter public spaces.

“I should take up weightlifting. It’ll give me the strength to pick up hot mechs such as yourself.”

He grinned at that. You learned that you adored that smile… and the mech it was on. You memorised it, and the way it lit up his optics.

“Nice legs, what time do they open?”

You sputtered a laugh. He learned that he loved the sound of your laughter like liquid happiness tickling his audials. He recorded the sound.

Finally, Skids looked around, finding that Swerve was grabbing his mop bucket, the subtle sign to any remainers that he was going to shut the bar within the next few kliks.

“Huh, guess we should be going,” Skids noted.

“Yeah…” You murmured, eyes downcast at the thought of parting from Skids, “I suppose we should.”

“Oh, just one more line first, I think I have a winner,” Skids grinned mischievously.

“Yeah? Go on then,” You settled yourself back atop your seat, awaiting the next line to make you chortle.

Skids got down on one knee. Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned close to whisper, his lips gently grazing your earlobe, “What’s bright red and something I like sleeping with?”

“… I- What?” You asked.

He pulled lightly back, then kissed you, just staying long enough to feel you get closer before he pulled back, leaving you longing for more.

“You.”

You reached up to cover your burning cheeks.

“I- I have to go,” You stammered, stumbling off your stool.

Skids smiled as he watched you leave. He was going to call you tomorrow, then every day after that, and never once would he resort to ‘Grab your coat, you’ve pulled.’ You deserved more, and he was happy to provide you with witty wordplay, humour, and romance to boot.

Once more before leaving, he played back the sound of your laughter. Primus, you fascinated him. He planned to do everything he could to find out what made you tick.

#skids #skids x reader #skids x you #transformers #transformers idw #maccadam #more than meets the eye #mtmte #ll #the lost light #pick me up and take me home

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0-amateur-writer-0 · 5 months

Text

With Gratitude

Characters: Stan Pines, Ford Pines.

Tags: Post-finale, Hurt-Comfort, Mostly Fluff

Wordcount: 823

Summary:

“Do ya still want me around if I didn’t save the world. If I wasn’t--…y’know, a hero?”

Ford looks up from where he was tending to Stan’s arm. Stan was looking down at his bandaged arm, though it was clear that his mind was someplace far away.

So, it was one of those days.

He had picked up the signs quickly enough. This happens whenever a recently recounted memory was deeply affecting his brother. It’s a bad one. The bad memories always illicit this sort of reaction. Though, previous incidents weren’t quite this bad.

Ford gently, yet firmly tightens the bandages on Stan’s arm. Closely inspecting his handiwork once more, before finally allowing Stan to tuck his injured arm closer to himself.

Ford chuckles. “I think that’s where you’re mistaken; you were always a hero, Stan.”

The look Stan threw him in return, were equal parts skeptical as it was confused. By all means, what he just said probably came off as absurd; calling his brother who lies and cheats as constantly as he breathes. Who has a criminal record a mile long—a hero, will no doubt come off as such.

But it doesn’t make it any less true.

“Always?” Stan questioned.

“At least to me.” Ford adds with a lopsided smile. “Remember how you gave me your glasses when those mean kids from the playground broke mine?”

Stan stares at him in confusion over the sudden change of topic, before nodding carefully; letting himself be led along the conversation.

“Once we got home, Dad yelled at you for 10 straight minutes; even grounded you for a whole month because of it. But you never told him what really happened. Or how about that time--…er, I suppose the several times you punched Crampelter in the face for calling me a freak. Or all the other times you—"

“I remember; why’d ya ask?” Stan’ eyes are getting more, and more focused now. The fog was lifting, and his brother was slowly coming back to himself.

Ford smiles sadly. “I seemed to have forgotten all that. I was only reminded of all those things you did for me, because of…recent events.” His smile drops. “…I should be the one asking you that: why do you still want me around after everything I’ve done?”

Stan opens his mouth to answer, but Ford shook his head. “It was rhetorical; I know why.”

“And to answer your question: you were a hero even before you went ahead and saved the world. And I couldn’t think of anyone I’d be lucky enough to get to spend my time with.” A pause. “Well, apart from the children, our friends, and our immediate family but…you know.”

“I ought to say this more often, but…thank you; for having been there when nobody else was.”

…

Thank you.

Stan blinks. Out of all the recent changes that happened in his life, this is definitely one he still wasn’t used to. It still somehow felt weird to hear Ford say that; maybe it’s due to how hard he had to work just to get one in the first place. But now, Ford just…kept giving it away to him so freely. Things that don’t require thanks, and even the smallest gestures that should’ve been paid no mind, were met with an almost unreasonable amount of gratitude.

Thank you for making breakfast.

Thank you for playing D, D, and more D with me.

And then,

Thank you for remembering.

Thank you for being here…

The last one really threw him for a loop. Because where else would he be besides here: on the Stan O’ War, sailing around the world on the adventure of a lifetime? It was just unnecessary, especially at the rate of which Ford’s doing it. Often times, they would be doing something mundane like fishing, or cleaning when Ford would all of a sudden turn to him, and then thank him for…simply existing it seems.

A sap, that’s what his brother is. He’d made it a point to say so whenever Ford gets like this. This time was no exception; because Ford really just dropped a whole speech on him about how he was totally his hero this entire time. Sure, like he’s supposed to believe that.

It was a good speech at least.

He was about to call Ford out on his sap-like behavior yet again, but then he stops. Ford was looking at him, not only that, Ford was looking at him the same way he often does whenever he looks at the kids—warm eyes, and tender smiles.

Stan absentmindedly rubs his bandaged arm. “…Anytime, Sixer.”

Looks like Ford’s not the only sap in this damn boat.

…

"Stanley Pines was the man who saved the world, not me. ... If I'm totally honest, I must admit that he's a hero and I'm...a hero's brother. And I'm OK with that."

--From the Journal of Stanford Pines.

#gravity falls #fanfic #stanuary 2024 #stanley pines #stanford pines

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ourloveisforthelovely · 1 year

Text

The Words "Best Friends" Become Redefined. Part 3

Regulus Black AU

Summary: You had been Regulus’ friend since childhood and now his mistress. The war had changed many things, Regulus among them. Now its time to decide if you should put your self-worth over missing someone who was gone.

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader

Rating: M- smut

Link to Part 2

Songs in chapter: "Baby you wouldn't last a minute on the creek" by Chiodos and "Burn" by Alkaline Trio

_____

Let's just stop, drop everything, (forget each other's names) forget each other's names, And just walk away. Turn around and head in different directions, Like we never, it's like we never knew each other at all. We said what we feel, then we stop ourselves and just walk away. Never looking back loving every second of it, we just walk away. This is probably the best not to mention the worst idea that I have ever had. Ignoring what we've felt, Overlooking what we've done, No awkward silences, no hiding any truths. Ignoring what we've felt, Overlooking what we've done, What do you say?

You didn’t stop running until you made it back home. Something told you that if you stopped and looked back a death eater would pop out of nowhere and finish you off. Regulus’ urgent tone had put the fear of god into you.

Normally, you wouldn’t hesitate to go up against a death eater. Augustus Rockwood wore a scar from the last time that he was brave enough to go up against you. Today, however, something was different and it was a lot more sinister than normal…and Regulus knew it.

Was he protecting me from something?

Does he know something and old feelings have bubbled to the surface?

What is happening here?

The thoughts swarmed through your mind as you unlocked the door. Taking a few deep breaths you thought of everything. Regulus never had to protect you. He could have finished you off. Regulus could have killed you and never had to think of you ever again. He would be able to fully dedicate himself to the dark lord without ever acknowledging that he had once loved a half-blood girl. Regulus could marry some lovely pureblood princess that would make his family proud…

But he didn’t kill me…that has to say something…Right? The kiss…he kissed me…just like he used to….

As much as you wanted to stop and think about the kiss you knew it wasn’t the time. Later, when you were in the privacy of your room you could think about how the feelings were still so obviously there. You could think about how tender Regulus’ kiss was. It wasn’t the rough demanding dominant kiss he had started giving since becoming a death eater. This kiss was like the old days. It was like kissing the man you had fallen in love with.

You had barely gotten in the door when a pair of arms pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Y/n, we have been worried to death!”

You sighed with relief hearing Remus’ voice. Hugging your brother back, you stepped back to look at him. Thankfully there was nothing out of place. Remus looked just as he had before the three of you had to make a quick getaway.

“Sorry, Remus. I took a bit of a detour that ended up being a lot longer than I planned. Are you okay? Sirius?”

Remus gently gripped your shoulders. He was bloody thrilled to see you. It had been nearly an hour since the death eater attack. Remus had been pacing the floor since he arrived home to see only Sirius waiting. The protective older brother in Remus was going into overdrive. Had Sirius not told him to sit down and breathe, Remus would have been out looking for you.

“He’s fine. I’m fine. You’re fine…that’s what matters. You’re fine, right?”

Remus asked, carefully. He knew that look on your face. You had seen Regulus.

And she thinks that I don’t know.

Remus thought sadly. He knew that you were under the assumption that Remus was clueless about your relationship with Regulus…but he wasn’t. Remus had put things together rather quickly, in fact. It didn’t take Remus looking at the Marauder’s Map and seeing the dots labeled “Regulus Black” and “Y/n Lupin” in a closet to know something was up. There was no reason for the two of you to be hiding in a closet for so long for Remus to put two and two together. There was also the way that Regulus looked at you. Regulus always had his eyes on you and soon enough his hands hovered on your lower back longer than necessary. Remus had seen it all.

Remus had wanted to call you on it but he decided not to. There was a reason that you didn’t tell him. As much as it annoyed him, Remus decided to let you tell him when you wanted.

You, meanwhile, nodded hoping Remus would believe you. The last thing that you really wanted was to tell Remus about your love affair with Regulus like this. There had to be a better day and today was NOT that day!

“Of course, I’m totally fine. You would think that some of those fucktards that claim to be genius death eaters would have enough sense to wear different shoes. We could easily point half of them out at any given point.”

Remus smirked. That was a true point.

“Our day will come. It may not be as soon as we would like but it will come.”

You could only nod. Nothing was happening as fast as you wanted it to.

“I guess the Rolling Stones were right about us not being able to always get what we want.”

Remus rolled his eyes.

“You are hanging out with Sirius too much.”

You took off your jacket and hung it up.

“Well, I mean he is your boyfriend and I live with the two of you. I’m going to pick up something somewhere. Well, I have had enough excitement for one day. I think that I am going to call it a night.”

Remus only nodded as you turned to walk toward the stairs. You stopped before turning to look at Remus. Neither Remus nor yourself said how grateful the two of you were for each other. You had always kept a watchful eye on Remus from the time that Fenrir Greyback attacked Remus as a child. If you could help it, nothing else would hurt your brother ever again.

“Remus…I don’t want anything to happen to you. Please keep being careful.”

Remus gave you a small smile.

“The same goes for you.”

Walking into your bedroom, your mind returned to Regulus. While the conversation with your former lover was brief…there was something different about it. There was something that you couldn’t put your finger on. Something about Regulus was different. Something seemed…distant if that was even the best word to use.

As you changed into leggings and an oversized jumper, you let yourself become lost in your thoughts…

I wish that we had a little more time.

You thought before lying down on your bed. Staring at the ceiling, your mind was plagued with thoughts of Regulus. The thoughts weren’t all bad. In fact, you let yourself think about the “good times.” You thought about how Regulus used to smile when he was with you. How he always told you that you were his only real friend. You were the one that got him. If you were the only person that he could talk to for the rest of his life then that would be just fine with him.

Everything always felt so right but it ended so wrong.

You sighed at the thought. The ending was enough to shatter even the strongest of people. You knew that Regulus would say the ending was your fault. You, after all, were the one that stopped seeing him. You were the one that stopped taking his letters, meeting him at hidden hotels, and cut him off. Regulus hadn’t done that…it was you.

I had to protect myself…even if it meant everything feels like hell.

You justified your decision the best you could…even if sometimes you wondered if you had done the right thing.

Taking out your wand, you pointed at the muggle stereo that sat in the corner of a table. You needed some music to get yourself out of your head. If you didn’t get yourself out of your head then you would never get some sleep.

Your eyes closed as a song started to play a haunting melody that you couldn't help but drift off into…

As we burn, pretending to fight it. Everyone learns faster on fire. Things took a turn, lost all desire You live and you burn. You live and…Like hell, we are anxiously waiting. Like hell burning silently strong. Somehow we fell down by the wayside. And somehow this hell is home. Right now, this hell is my home

You felt as if you had just closed your eyes when there was a soft knock on the door. Sitting up quickly, you turned to look at your bedside clock which read 2:45 am. Running a hand through your bedridden curls, you swung your legs over the side of the bed to stand up.

“Hang on.”

You said, yawning. Making your way through the darkness, you opened the door. Sirius stood on the other side with a not-so-typical frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

You asked. Silently you hoped that nothing was wrong. You prayed that Sirius was needing help making a late-night snack and decided to come to you.

“I need you to come downstairs with me.”

“Sirius, what’s wrong?”

You asked as Sirius reached out for your hand and tugged you with him. Sirius didn’t stop or say anything for a moment.

“It's Regulus. He’s here and he doesn’t look so good.”

Those words alone made you freeze. Did you hear Sirius right? Did you hear him or were you having a nightmare?

“Sirius, what?”

Sirius turned. He looked at your scared expression sympathetically. Sirius was no fool. He knew that this conversation would be hard. The terrified expression on your face confirmed your feelings.

“Kreacher brought him here. He’s beaten to hell. I don’t know what is happening. I know that you are the best damn healer around. Y/n, I need you to save my brother.”

Sirius wanted to say more. He wanted to say that he wanted you to save Regulus for yourself. Sirius wanted to say that he wanted you to save Regulus because he was not damn ready to put his younger brother in the ground. Regulus didn’t need to be dead at 18. He was too young…he hadn’t done enough. 18 was too young to be dead.

You had heard enough from Sirius to rush into the sitting room where Regulus lay passed out on the couch.

“Merlin!”

You managed to get out before rushing over to the love of your life. Kneeling down beside him, you gently put your hand on Regulus’ pulse point, praying to feel something. If Regulus died that night, you knew that you might as die right along with him. There would be no way would want to go through the rest of the chapters of your life without Regulus.

"Even if we were fighting…at least he is alive.”

You thought as you pressed on Regulus’ neck gently. When you felt a soft flutter against your fingers, you were relieved. Regulus was alive! You could deal with the injuries and trauma as long as Regulus was living.

Looking Regulus over, you noted the bruise forming under his left eye in addition to what looked like claw marks down his chest. His shirt was shredded making you wonder if he had been attacked by a knife…or scratched to shreds by some monster.

“Here’s some clean napkins and the potion that you clean Remus up with.”

Sirius said as he put the tools that you would need beside you. Remus had come in a few moments before and was standing silently. He didn’t know what to say. Sirius had woken him up not long after going to get you.

You turned your attention to Kreacher who stood at Regulus’ feet with a cold expression on his squashed face.

“Kreacher, what happened?”

Kreacher gave you a cold frown. He knew who you were and he didn't want to talk to you. It didn't matter to Kreacher that you were the one that Regulus always talked about. You were the human that Regulus loved more than anyone else. Kreacher wanted to keep Regulus safe...especially from you.

“Kreacher doesn't have to talk to a filthy half-blood.”

Sirius growled, from his place beside Remus.

“I order you to answer her.”

Sirius snapped. Kreacher glared at Sirius wanting to call him a blood traitor and swine who broke his poor mother’s heart but decided not to. Whether Kreacher liked it or not, he still had to do what Sirius said.

“Master Regulus asked Kreacher to go with him to find a cursed object. It was an object made by the dark lord himself. Master Regulus had to drink a horrible potion that made him nearly fall apart. He was then attacked by terrible creatures that nearly drowned him. Kreacher got him out…even though Master Regulus ordered him not to. I brought him here because Master Regulus was crying for Y/n.”

Regulus was crying for you!

Your heart broke at Kreacher’s words. You were not only confused but totally heartbroken. Just what was Regulus going after? Was this why he seemed “off” earlier? It would have made sense. Regulus most likely planned on dying. Regulus planned on dying and wanted to give you one last good memory of him.

Swallowing your tears (as best you could), you turned back to Kreacher.

“He’s not going to die today. I won’t let him.”

_____

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fenharel-enaste · 2 years

Text

My captain || Elendil x fem!Reader

Rating: +18 (smut)

Summary: Elendil catches you doing inappropriate things in his bed and now you're in trouble...

Warnings: Plot what plot, Soft Dom!Elendil, unprotected sex (don't do this pls), p in v sex, masturbation, oral sex, dirty talk, light choking, Elendil being a tease, reader has a voice and praise kink. Let me know if I left anything out :)

Word count: 5k

It’s also on AO3!

You say goodbye to Eärien, who hurries out the door with a big smile on her face. You had been her instructor for the past year, helping her prepare her project to join the Builder's Guild as an apprentice. And her efforts had finally paid off. You received the news that she’d been accepted that morning when you arrived at her house to give your regular classes. Your chest is filled with pride, she’s a brilliant student and truly deserving of her new position. However, as you are left alone in the room, you feel a certain uneasiness. Despite your joy for her, you can't help but think of Elendil, her father.

You were speechless the first time you saw him. A tall, handsome man dressed in the uniform of the Sea Guard, with eyes as blue as the ocean and a deep baritone voice that made you shiver every time you heard it. If he happened to be at home when you were finished with Eärien, he used to invite you to spend some more time there and have a drink in his company. And you always gladly accepted. As the days went by, you realised that you were always looking forward to going to his house in the hope of seeing him there. But now that you won't have any more sessions with his daughter, you don't think it is likely that you’ll see him anytime soon. And you wouldn't dare asking to see him again without an excuse.

You wander around the house for a while, sadly reminiscing about those mornings with Elendil, and you realise that you’ve unconsciously reached his bedroom door; it was open. You stare at it. You had only come in from time to time to let him know you were done for the day, if he was at home. He was usually at his desk, reading and filling in that morning's reports. He looked so attractive, working so intently, his calloused hands holding his pen as he runs his piercing eyes over his books. But the room is empty that day. Your gaze then moves to his bed and, before you know it, you're imagining him sleeping right there with his torso exposed...and....

You blush and try to push your thoughts away. It would be better if you just stopped having them for good. It’d probably be less painful in the long run. However, you can sense his smell in the room, a soft scent of the sea that you can never quite get out of your head. Without being able to control it, the previous image in your mind transforms into that of the captain above you, both of you completely naked on that bed and you receiving his thrusts as he kisses you hungrily.

A faint moan escapes your lips at the thought and you begin to feel wetness between your legs and heat in your belly. It's not like you hadn’t experienced it before, you definitely had; sometimes even in front of him. And you were forced to hide your arousal until you were safe in the privacy of your room back home, where you gave free rein to your imagination until you extinguished the heat in your core.

There was no one else in that house at the moment, though. Elendil and Isildur didn’t usually come back until a few hours later, and Eärien had just left to her first meeting with the Guild. You could take the risk. You could satisfy your desire right there; it would be quick. You don't need much time, that’s for sure.

Just this time, you think. It’s be the last time you’ll be there anyway.

Without wasting precious time, you lie down on the captain's bed. Your arousal is increased by the thought of where you were lying and what you were about to do. You hastily lift up your dress and slip your hand under your already wet underwear. And you begin to sigh and moan as you gently caress your clit. You imagine him with his head between your legs, his facial hair rough against your thighs and sex. His hands tightly gripping your thighs and holding them still as he sucks on your clit, circling it with his warm tongue and slipping it between your wet folds. You’re so immersed in your fantasy, that you don't notice the of the volume of your groans increasing.

“Oh fuck, my lord... please, fuck me...”

You know you’re close, as you feel your climax approaching. But your movements are suddenly interrupted when you hear someone clearing their throat. And you know exactly who it is.

Oh no.

You don't dare open your eyes or move, or even breathe. Several seconds pass, but they feel like agonizing hours, until you dare to open your eyes. And there he is, Elendil looking down at his feet with a blushed face.

“Oh stars!” you rush to stand up immediately, jumping out of the bed as if your life was at stake. "Forgive me, my lord. I- I don't know what I was thinking, I'm truly sorry!” you implore him, adjusting your dress with a burning face and unable to look at him. Elendil closes the door and walks over to his desk slowly to lean on it with his arms crossed. He then finally rises his gaze.

“I think you do know what you were doing, actually, my lady,” he answers, staring at her intensely. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself...quite vocally I’m afraid."

You had prayed that he hadn’t heard. And your prayers had definitely not been answered. Shit, you are so ashamed. “Forgive me, sir, that was extremely stupid and inappropriate, I should not-” You dare to look up at him for the first time and you notice he’s smirking slightly - he wasn't angry? He looked as if he found the situation amusing even. You stare at him, not understanding at all his reaction.

“Come here,” he says with that sweet smile still on his face. You hesitate at first, but you take a deep breath and move slowly towards the desk until stand in front of him. Valar, he's so tall... You can't help but look down timidly, he’s too close and you feel embarrassingly intimidated by the depth of his blue eyes. But he tells you to look at him, and you finally do it timidly. Elendil moves even closer to you, and you feel your legs weaken as he gently lifts your chin with one hand and caresses your cheek with the other.

“Look at you... I should have known that little game of yours calling me your captain was hiding something else,” he mutters with that deep voice of his. It’s true, you’ve been “jokingly” calling him that for a while now, hiding the fact that, if it were up to you, you’d do anything he asked of you. So you hid your wettest fantasy behind an innocent joke.

You can't take your eyes off his, and you catch a glimpse of him glancing briefly at your lips. For the-, is he going to...? Your heart is pounding so hard you feel it could burst out of your chest at any moment. Then the captain slowly brings his lips to yours and kisses them softly. You feel your cheeks burning as you brush his lips. After several chaste kisses, he holds your face with both hands and begins to intensify his kiss, his tongue brushing your lips, which you instinctively open, welcoming it in. You caress his tongue with yours and you feel your head spinning. He tastes even better than you could have ever imagined, and you still can't believe that what's happening was real.

You have to put your hands on his chest and hold on to him so you don't fall. He notices that you still feel a little insecure, so he interrupts the kiss to look into your eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asks you with concern.

“No... I mean, yes! It’s just...” You don't know how to explain that you've been dreaming of him kissing you like that from the very first moment you saw him. How you've suffered in silence thinking you could never be reciprocated. Someone like him could have any woman he wanted and it was stupid to think he'd ever notice you. And yet here he is. His lips inches from yours, looking at you like no one has ever looked at you before and brushing a strand of hair away from your face. Your skin prickled as he tucked it behind your ear.

You wanted him...

“I need you,” you whisper, plucking up your courage. Elendil then gives you a breathtaking smile and kisses you once again, this time more intensely than before. You kiss him back, and now it is you who slips your tongue into the captain's mouth, which catches him by surprise and you hear him let out a soft moan that goes straight to your belly.

Elendil lowers his hands to the back of your thighs and lifts you off the floor without any difficulty. He sits you on his desk and lifts your dress up to your hips so he can stand between your legs. He pulls his lips away from yours and proceeds to trace a line of kisses from your mouth, down your jaw, to your neck, where he stops to bite and suck on your skin as he lifts a hand to caress one of your breasts over your dress.

You are at his mercy and all you can do is clutch at his strong arms, breathing heavily and moving your hips towards him involuntarily. Noticing this, the captain reaches to the back of your waist and pulls you tight against him, so that you can feel his cock harden at the contact.

"Eager, aren't we?" he says almost in a whisper against your mouth just before he bites your lower lip.

"Oh fuck..." That rubbing against you brings you to your breaking point, you need to feel him.

This time, it is you who breaks the kiss to remove the top of his clothes, for which you have some difficulty, as he's wearing more layers than you thought. After amusing himself by letting you get frustrated and suffer a little, Elendil laughs sweetly and helps you remove what’s left of it. You should feel insulted by his little jibe, but the sound of his beautiful laughter touches your heart and you can't help but laugh with him.

Your heart skips a beat as you admire the man before you. He looked like he was made by the Valar themselves. You can't resist caressing and kissing his chest, leaving a trail of little bites in your wake. Meanwhile, Elendil undoes your dress and slides it over your shoulders until it falls to your waist. He pauses momentarily to admire your now bare body and makes a lustful sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl. He slightly lifts you from the table to remove your dress completely and tosses it to the floor. He does the same with your already soaked underwear. You can feel him becoming less and less gentle with his movements, more impatient, which increases the wetness between your legs.

Now you find yourself completely naked before him. You can feel his hands all over you. Warm, strong, rough hands running down your body as he hungrily kisses your mouth. One hand moves lower and lower, and your heart races with anticipation. He starts by caressing and gripping your inner thighs, and then slowly moves his hand back up, until he places it right where he found yours moments before, pleasuring yourself. You blush, feeling vulnerable in the presence of your captain gently stroking your clit in circles.

“You didn’t seem so shy before, begging me to fuck you...” he teases in your ear. You start moaning with the movements of his dexterous fingers on your most sensitive area.

“Sir...please, my lord...” you beg him.

“That’s it, tell me what you want,” Elendil orders without letting you look away from his eyes.

“I want to please you, sir. I-I need to touch you.” He almost melts at your pleading words.

“Stars, you’re such a good girl, you want to please your captain?” he asks as he continues to rub you mercilessly, bringing one finger to your entrance and teasing you with it.

“Yes! Please, please, please, I’m begging you!” Tears of pleasure begin to form in your eyes.

“Yes, what?” he asks with his authoritative, stern voice as he grabs you by your hair and pulls, forcing you to look up at him.

“Yes, sir.”

Elendil pulls away from you and you see him bringing his hands to his trousers and untying them. You unconsciously stop breathing when he releases his member. You feel your heart race with anticipation and you unconsciously rub your thighs together to feel the friction that you need. You admire his perfect body, now completely naked, as Elendil makes his way to the desk chair. You drool over the line of body hair that runs from his navel down to... you notice that Elendil is staring at you with a smirk on his face, clearly amused by your reaction, as if he could read your sinful thoughts.

"Come here, sweetheart," the captain says as he sits down and spreads his legs to make room for you. You get down from the table and kneel nervously between his legs. He then leans forward and, stroking your cheek, kisses you tenderly once more and whispers soothing words inches from your lips. He keeps his hand on your face as he leans back and brings his other hand to his length. You watch him massaging it slowly, letting out a soft sigh of pleasure. It is surely the most erotic image you’ve ever seen. His closed eyes, his furrowed brow, his chest heaving with his deep breaths and his cock in his hand as he slowly moves it up and down. It is large... and you can also see some veins marked on it and precum beginning to come out of it. You lick your lips at the sight. The need to have him in your mouth increases by the second.

Elendil slides his hand from your cheek down to your chin, brushing your lower lip with his thumb. Instinctively, you open your lips to lick it briefly, and he slips it into your mouth. You moan in response and suck on it, running your tongue along it as you stare lustfully into his eyes. The wetness of your mouth and your intense gaze make Elendil groan. He takes his thumb out of your mouth with a pop and bring his hand to your hair to grab it and pull it gently as he guides your head towards his cock.

You stop yourself inches away from his cock and take it in your hand. You rub it at a slow rhythm for a few seconds, like you've seen him do before, and bring your mouth closer to run your tongue over the tip, which makes him let out a moan as his cock twitches. You then suck hard on his tip and then you repeat this by taking his cock further into your mouth. You repeat the process again and again, slowly, running your tongue over it as you suck it hard, taking it closer and closer to the end of your throat. He tastes even better than you had secretly imagined too many times.

Elendil grips your hair even tighter and helps you keep up the rhythm, making you bob your head faster and faster. “That’s it, love, you’re doing it very well. Making me feel so good.” He thinks you’re ready now. Suddenly, without taking his cock out of your mouth, the captain stands up and cups your face with his free hand.

"Stick out your tongue as far as you can." He orders, and you obey without a second thought. He holds your head in both hands and, without warning, begins to move his hips against your mouth over and over again, at a pace far faster than you could possibly keep up with.

"Such an obedient girl, you like following my orders, don't you?" You try to answer him, but his cock is deep in your throat and you find it impossible to form words; all that comes out of you are incoherent sounds. You choke on his cock several times until tears begin to form in your eyes. But he continues his brutal assault, fucking your throat and filling the room with unholy sounds. You start to feel your fluids sliding down your thighs. Being at his mercy, watching your captain use you in this way, turns you on more than any fantasy you've ever had.

"I asked you a question..." he says holding his cock deep in your throat for a few seconds, cutting off your breath. "Do you like following my orders?" he repeats in an authoritative tone and pulls his cock completely out of your mouth to allow you to speak.

"Yes, my lord. I'm yours. I'll do anything you wish me to," you reply almost breathlessly. Seeing from above that face with flushed cheeks and lips and tears streaming from eyes full of pleading and desperation pushes Elendil over the edge.

"Stand up," he commands. And when you're standing before him, Elendil gestures towards the bed. "On all fours." You feel a tightness in your abdomen in anticipation of what's going to happen next. You crawl onto the bed and hold the position you've been told. A few seconds later, you feel Elendil position himself behind you, running his warm hands over your waist and hips, squeezing your buttock with one hand as he strokes your soaking wet folds with the other. He slides two fingers into you without any difficulty and feels your walls clenching him when he begins to move his digits.

"I was meaning to prepare you a little more for me but.... I see you're desperate enough for my cock already." He smiles to himself. You start moaning at his touch and have to struggle to keep yourself from collapsing onto the mattress.

"Let's resume what you were doing when I found you before... fingers deep inside you..." he emphasizes this by pushing his fingers even deeper and caressing your sweet spot. "And what was that you were saying?" You can barely think or remember anything at this point. You can only moan as you feel his calloused fingers teasing you and your fluids dripping down your thighs, probably reaching the mattress. Suddenly, you hear a loud smack accompanied by a stinging pain in your right buttock, which leaves the area still burning for a few seconds afterwards.

“Answer me!” There it is again. That stern, demanding voice that makes your legs weaken. His fingers begin to punish your pussy even more severely.

Please... That’s the only thought on your mind.

“Please, please, my lord, I’m begging you, I-I need your cock, pleaaaase!” you say with tears of desperation in your eyes. Elendil seems satisfied with your response, as he pulls his fingers out of you and you soon feel the tip of his cock teasing your entrance for a few seconds before feeling it finally pushing in, slowly. All at once. All the way in. It is... thick, but your already soaking wet walls allow it to slide in more easily. You feel so full of that man you have to restrain yourself from moaning too loudly.

Your pussy feels so warm, wet and tight, Elendil lets out a deep sigh of pleasure and begins to move his hips, slowly at first, letting you get used to him. However, not even a minute has passed when his movements begin to build momentum until his hips are slapping hard against you and his hands gripping you tightly.

His cock feels too good inside you and it's a crime you can't watch him fucking you from that position. You turn your head to look back and get a better view, but he grabs your arms and pulls you towards him before you can do so, pressing your back against his chest and bringing his right hand to your neck to gently pull your head towards his. The captain's lips are now mere inches from your ear and you can feel his breath against it, giving you goosebumps all over your body. His other hand caresses your breasts, squeezing them gently, and he plays with your already erect, sensitive nipples, running his fingers over them and tugging gently. His touch makes you throw your head back and rest it on Elendil's shoulder. You gasp in pleasure as he continues ramming you with his cock.

His right hand then squeezes your neck, not hard enough to completely cut off your breath, but enough to let you know who’s in charge of the situation.

“This is what you wanted, didn’t you? All this time you’ve been so desperate for me to fill you with my cock that you couldn’t help but pleasuring yourself in your captain’s bed,” he mutters in your ear. That voice and those words made your clit throb, making you move your hips against his cock to join in his movements. He gives a final tug on your nipples and moves his hand down to your pussy to massage your swollen clit at a frantic pace.

“That was extremely inappropriate, my lady. Maybe I should punish you keeping you here for me to use whenever I please. But I suspect that’s something you would want, am I wrong?”

You whimper at his words. You can only think of the heat building up in your belly. You are so close. Elendil squeezes your neck even tighter. “Am. I. Wrong?” he repeats, pulling you closer against him.

“No! No, my lord, I- let me serve you, please. I only want to please you.” Any shyness you may have felt before vanishes and your soft whimpers turn into loud moans.

His authoritative deep voice in your ear, his dirty words, his hands on your neck and clit and his cock pounding your sweet spot over and over again is too much to bear. The pent-up pressure in your belly is finally released and intense waves of pleasure ripple through your body as his cock continues to assault your pussy mercilessly, further lengthening your orgasm. Your cries fill the room and it feels like it would never end. After who knows how long, your orgasm fades gradually as Elendil's thrusting slows down.

You feel numb after your orgasm and shivers run through your sensitive body as you feel Elendil's beard brush across your neck, peppering kisses all the way down to your shoulder.

"You did it very well, princess." he whispers in your ear. He lifts your body to release his member and helps you roll over to lie on your back.

You reach up to caress his face, but he takes your hands in his and places them above your head. "We have not finished yet, love," he says with a smirk on his face, almost brushing your lips, and kisses you as he positions himself between your legs and enters you once again. The fluids from your previous orgasm allow him to reach deep inside you effortlessly. You moan into his mouth as he fills you again, and you kiss him deeply in return. You could never get enough of his taste and scent.

The moment you feel Elendil's hand release yours, you wrap them around his body, one caressing and gripping on his back, feeling him flex his muscles, as you gently grasp his hair with the other, pulling him closer to you in a plea to keep his mouth on yours. So you groan in frustration when he pulls away from you. But that frustration is replaced by anticipation as you watch him lift your legs and position them so that they are bent against his torso and he leans forward, pushing your legs until your knees are almost touching your shoulders.

He then resumes the rocking of his hips and, with this new angle, you feel him reach even deeper and rub even more intensely your already over-stimulated spot. Even with the first thrusts, you can’t help but moaning loudly, making clear your enjoyment of the new position. "There it is. That's where you need it don't you?" Elendil smiles to himself thinking about how bad he's going to wreck you. With no warning, he quickens the pace of his movements and begins to brutally ram into you.

You already know the sight of the captain fucking you relentlessly, with his lust-filled gaze locked on yours and beads of sweat running down his body would be something impossible to forget. You feel your second orgasm rapidly approaching, and all you can think about is his cock mercilessly rubbing your most sensitive spot once more. The room is filled with wet slapping sounds of his hips and balls against you, accompanied by your desperate cries.

Elendil feels your walls clenching around him. "That's it, sweetheart, give me another one," he encourages in that baritone voice of his as he brings a hand to your belly and presses lightly, making his cock rub even harder against your front wall.

And that was it for you.

Your climax arrives more abruptly and violently than the last one. You cling tightly to the captain's arms as you ride your orgasm for what seems like an eternity. Elendil is relentless with his pounding, pushing you past any pleasure you’ve felt before. And it's not until the last waves of pleasure fade away that you notice the tears streaming down your face, it was undoubtedly the most powerful orgasm you've ever had.

Elendil smiles proudly at the mess he's made of you. "That's my good girl. Taking my orders so obediently.” He can feel your legs trembling. The image of your lovely flushed face, your eyes watering with pleasure, your messy hair. He’s very, very close. "Do you want me to cum, princess?"

Fuck, yes. You need to be filled with him. Immediately.

"Yes! Yes, please!" You plead with what little strength you have left after your intense orgasm.

"Tell me where," he says almost in a whisper.

"Inside me, please. I'm yours to use, my lord." His cock is throbbing at that point as he keeps fucking your pussy and his movements begin to become more erratic. Not many seconds have passed before he reaches his breaking point and lets out several deep groans. His jerky thrusts grow sloppier, but they remain strong and deep as he spills his cum deep inside you. Fuck, the sounds he was making as he came are music to your ears.

Once his orgasm fades, he smiles contentedly, releases your legs from his torso so that you can rest them on either side of his waist, and leans over you to tenderly kiss your flushed cheeks and lips. It is then that he realises that you are trembling.

"Are you alright? Was I too hard?" he asks looking at you with concern in his eyes.

"No! It’s been... wow." How could you find the words to tell a man like that that he's given you the best fucking of your life? "It's been perfect, I assure you," you say with a wide, satisfied smile. He smiles back at you and lovingly brushes your nose with his. He then withdraws his member from you carefully and lifts you up to help you clean yourself.

Elendil lies down on the bed and puts his arms around you, letting you rest your head on him. You lie like that for a while, silently enjoying each other's company. He runs his fingers through your hair and you bury your face in his neck, enjoying his scent as you caress his beard with your hand.

"Truth to be said, I'm relieved, actually," Elendil confesses after a few minutes. You look up and find his deep blue eyes staring at you sweetly. You feel your heart skip a beat. You still can't believe you were in bed with him... nor what you had done just minutes before.

“Why?” you ask unable to take your eyes off his.

“I wouldn’t dare to make an approach to you. I know you love your job and have grown fond of my daughter. And I was afraid I might accidentally take advantage of you. I did not want you to fear for your position. Or worse, for yourself, because of me”.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind if you took advantage, actually,” you blurt out of nowhere and blush at the realization of what you’ve just said. He looks at you with an expression of both confusion and amusement on his face.

"I mean..." you sigh deeply, steeling yourself for what you are about to say. "What I said earlier... that I enjoyed following your orders. I meant it.” Elendil laughs softly and you can sense some lust back in his eyes.

“In that case...” he says with a smirk. “You did well with Eärien. Maybe you should instruct Isildur now. My troublesome boy surely could get use of your lessons. Then, you’d have to come very often.” You giggle at his words. And then reality suddenly hits you.

“Speaking of them... I think I should leave now. They could come back at any moment and I don’t really want to know how they’d react if they see me like this... with their father,” you say as you sit up, looking for your clothes on the floor.

“Oh, do not worry about that,” he responds pulling you back down beside him. “You know Eärien has her first meeting with the Guild today and Isildur... he’s with those friends of his and I know him well enough to know that he won’t be here any time soon. Besides...” He takes your face in his hand and caresses your lips with his thumb. “I have yet to see how you ride your captain.”

All concern disappears immediately at his words and you can’t help but giggling. "Of course, my captain." And you kiss him deeply with a smile on your face.

#elendil x reader #elendil #elendil fanfic #elendilf #the rings of power #elendil smut #x reader

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etsuven · 2 years

Text

etsuven's first kinktober: day 8/8

rating: smut cw: none includes: shorter fic, almost drabble like, edging, mentions of a safe word/signal, kaeya is labeled as a brat, usage of toys, some mentions of spit and tears summary: you decide that it's time to teach kaeya a lesson...

note: and this concludes my first kinktober! i definitely didn't miss any days ahaha.... the support for this has been way better than expected, and i'm glad that you guys liked my attempt at writing only smut for a month :D. now, i sadly might take a break from writing smut for a bit, as i've run out of ideas kjjasdjd- not really, i have a ton of ideas in my drafts right now, plus a few ideas for some sequels to some fics! i think i've said this before, but i have quite a few more fluffy requests lately, so i'm going to work on those since i quite like them! i have also been in a quite romantic mood for the past few weeks so writing a few fluff fics will help me get everything out! but anyways, i hope you enjoy the last instalment of "etsuven's first kinktober 2022"!!

"p-please, you can't keep denying me like this!" the pleading voice of your lover reached your ears, but you ignored them in favor of keeping the vibrating toy pressed against his cock. plus, if kaeya really wanted you to stop, he would have used the safe word or the nonverbal signal the two of you agreed on.

"do you really want me to stop, though?" you questioned. you removed the toy and pushed his hips down into the bed for the nth time, keeping them from moving towards the vibrations. kaeya let out a choked groan, his hand grabbing at your wrist to try and maneuver the toy towards his cock.

there was no real force behind his touch, which only cemented the idea in your head that he liked this. he moaned out as as he felt his orgasm be ripped away from him, and even though he pretty much asked for this, he was starting to regret riling you up. just a tiny bit.

he was being punished due to breaking one of your rules. no touching and teasing you in public. it was simple, but kaeya still managed to break it. you could still feel his fingers brushing your lower back and thighs, and even the occasional squeeze at your hips and waist. what a brat, clearly he wanted this.

once he had calmed down from his almost orgasm, you placed the vibrator against the tip of his cock, watching in amusement as he groaned at the feeling. tears formed in the corner of his eyes, but he wiped them away before they could fall down his pretty face.

this back and forth between no stimulation and the best thing he had ever felt (not counting you) had been going on for around an hour, and he didn't know if he could last any longer. you could probably breathe on him and he'd burst.

"do you want to cum?' you asked. kaeya noticed the genuine tone in your voice, and he almost cried knowing that the torture would be over soon. he nodded enthusiastically, letting out a quick yes as he gripped the sheets in preparation of what was to come.

you switched the toy to its highest setting, watching in amusement as your lover quickly fell apart under you with a silent moan. his head was thrown back against the pillow, strands of his bangs stuck against his forehead from the sweat. there was a bit of spit leaking out of the side of his mouth, and you reached in to wipe it with your thumb.

you helped him through his orgasm, slowly lowering the vibrator settings until it was off. kaeya was panting softly, his hand coming up to brush away the sticky strands of hair from his forehead. his other hand reached for your upper arm, and you let him pull you down into a sweet kiss.

"how about... how about i repay you?" he whispered, his lips trailing down your jaw. you began to think, your hand coming up to grasp at his shoulder. all of his teasing from earlier had definitely gotten you worked up, and his moans and groans from your teasing had lit an almost unbearable heat to form in your lower stomach.

"well, if you insist." and with a kiss against your lips that quickly grew more passionate, the night truly began.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #kaeya #genshin kaeya #genshin impact kaeya #kaeya x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #sub genshin #sub genshin impact #sub kaeya #dom reader #kinktober 2022 #etsuven's kinktober 2022

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sirowsky-stories · 7 months

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Part 8

Description: Making their way through the woods turns out to be the easier part of their escape, as the group soon learns that even The Big Apple isn't safe.

Warnings: Pero Tovar x OFC, no reader insert, Pero's pov, conspiracy, cursing, angst, mentions of graphic violence, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, secret identity, AU fic, smut. Rating: Mature/Explicit 18+ONLY Word Count: 8074 Series Masterlist

Author's Note: It's been over a month since I last updated this, but you're getting a huge chapter instead. And the first smut of this series, which might sadly also be the last, since I might be heading towards an ending for this story. I don't know for sure, but I have an idea of where this might go, and sadly, it's not a lengthy plot. We'll see. Thank you for your unfailing patience :´)

-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-

They move slowly, since being quiet is more important than being fast right now. They must assume that their enemies are equipped with some form of vision enhancement, either in the infrared or thermal spectrums, which would mean that their only hope of slipping past them, is if they can hear them coming. Thankfully, the hunters have no reason to believe that their prey have left the safety of the house, and likely aren’t expecting to find them out here.

Niki does okay with the effort of moving, but her damaged lung makes her breathing harder than the others, and therefor noisier, so Pero uses her as a gauge for when they need to take a break or when he unintentionally speeds up too much. But it works. They make progress, slow and steady. It takes almost two hours before they run into trouble.

He feels it somehow, several seconds before the guy even registers to his other senses, and instinctively stops behind a large trunk of a fallen tree, crouching down and signaling to the others to do the same. Their eyes have adjusted to the dark well enough that they can see it when he raises a cautionary hand and then ducks.

The guy is approaching fast, so they can hear him long before he comes into view. And just like Pero predicted, they’re wearing night vision goggles of some sort, enabling them to run at full speeds in the dark, should they need to, but also leaving them careless of the noises they’re making. Although, it also tells him that they’re not expecting to run into anyone out here. For the time being, staying hidden is more important than fighting back, so the soldier is allowed to pass without being attacked.

It’s a tense wait, though, because they can’t know if he sees their body heat or just has an enhanced view of the pitch-black woods. So, when he jumps over the downed log and then carries on without spotting them where they crouch in some underbrush, they all breathe a sigh of relief. But it’s a brief one, because the soldier’s presence also indicates that there’s likely more of them nearby. The fact that he’s alone means that he’s probably a scout, checking things out in preparation for the teams that follow.

They wait until he’s out of earshot before they get up and carry on, moving even more carefully now. Still, it only takes fifteen minutes before the next troubling sound reaches Pero’s ears, this time in what seems to be more than one person coming towards them in the dark. And of course, it happens where there’s virtually nothing to hide behind.

He stops the group and listens intently, trying to work out exactly where the soldiers are. They’re practically out in the open, crossing a large flat area where the trees aren’t so tightly positioned and there are no shrubs or bushes to use for cover. He doesn’t have time to deliberate, so only moments after they’ve stopped, Tovar signals for everyone to lay down flat on the ground, and without even checking that they follow his instructions, he darts off to the left.

Finding an older tree with a thicker stem to hide behind, he stops and waits for the soldiers to approach the group, counting on their surprise at finding their quarry all the way out here, to give him the slight advantage he needs to deal with them both. The second they spot the three unexpected shapes on the ground, the two men close ranks and angle their weapons up, aiming at the group. But before they’ve even had a chance to start barking orders at the helpless trio, Pero has already circled around them, coming at them from behind.

He snaps the neck of the guy on the right, and then stabs what’s apparently a woman to his left, under her arm where the Kevlar vest can’t protect her, severing a major artery. An enemy is an enemy regardless of gender, and he’s never much cared which kind he might have to harm in order to protect himself or others. But tonight, it all seems so pointless.

These soldiers probably don’t even know who Niki is or why they’ve been ordered to capture or eliminate her. And while he doesn’t feel bad about killing them, since he’s of the mind that people are generally awful anyway, he does wonder if these people truly deserve to die for a cause that isn’t their own. Pero has never intentionally harmed anyone that he didn’t personally target because of their lack of humanity or compassion, but he doesn’t know who these soldiers are underneath their armor.

These two could’ve been best friends. They could’ve been good people. Or horrible people. It’s the fact that he doesn’t know either way that bothers him. Not nearly enough to stop him, though. Because in the end, it’s the three people he protects that he does know, and what he knows is that they’ve all earned his protection. Not by being perfect, but simply by being kind when they could’ve been selfish.

Once both enemies have fallen, he drops to one knee and freezes, motioning for the others to stay still and quiet while he waits for the sounds of death to fade, making sure that no one else seems to have noticed the brief commotion, before he beckons for the group to get up and follow again. But Niki’s struggling now.

Her body has barely even begun its rehabilitation, she’s only just started walking around and now she’s suddenly not just trekking through the wilderness, but performing quick movements that require a lot of tension and agility. Most people don’t even realize how many muscles have to be active, nor how hard they have to work, just to enable a person to drop to their knee and then stand up again. It’s only when one is hurt and those muscles can’t perform their function without pain, that one becomes aware of just how much effort it takes.

Add serious damage to several internal organs on top of that, and it’s a miracle that she’s even managed this first hour without collapsing. As she tries to stand, her strength falters and she drops to her hands and knees in the wet moss. Gillian is right behind her, and she reacts right away, moving up alongside Niki to check how affected she really is.

With the silent sign for death, a few fingers cutting her own throat, the nurse signals to Pero that her patient might die if she’s forced to keep going like this. Thankfully, they’re less than half an hour from the car if nothing more happens to slow them down, so he crouches with his back to Nikita and signals for her to climb on, trying not to panic at the realization that it takes longer than it should for her to move even that little.

He hates how thin she feels, even through her layers of clothing, as she hitches her legs over his hips and her arms around his shoulders, but there isn’t time to worry about that now. Even if the dead soldiers won’t be able to set off any alarms by themselves, they’ll soon be discovered anyway. Because these kinds of teams doing these kinds of jobs keep in regular contact with each other, and when those two inevitably fail to check in, someone’s gonna go looking for them.

So, with the most wanted woman in the world on his back, he sets a new pace, almost running through the woods now. It doesn’t take long before his arms begin to ache with the effort of helping her keep her legs around him, but he ignores it. He’ll keep holding on to her until his arms are torn from their sockets, if that’s what it’ll take to get her to safety.

Mercifully, they reach the hidden vehicle without any more incidents, and he sets his human backpack down before he starts to unveil it, since the others can’t even see it underneath the specialized tarp, specifically designed to obscure large structures in these types of woods. Contrary to what most people would expect out here, it isn’t an all-terrain vehicle or SUV that’s waiting for them, but rather a BMW sedan of a sportier model, but which also boasts outstanding suspension and off-road capabilities for the more adventurous driver.

It’s one of those cars that you have to know what’s underneath of to understand the hefty price-tag, since the outside looks like literally any other car, and that’s precisely why Pero chose it. Because it won’t stick out on a country road, a fast highway, or in a city like New York. It’s a chameleon, but it’s also a car with a lot of engine, so should it become necessary to evade a pursuing party, it’s got the power to get the job done.

Quietly, they all get in and buckle up, the women taking the backseat so that Gillian can tend to Niki as well as possible under these circumstances, and then he starts the engine. It’s a hybrid, capable of running for up to an hour on battery-power alone, then automatically recharges itself with the petrol engine, so there’s no sound beyond what the wheels produce as he starts rolling along the dirt road.

It isn’t until they leave the dirt road and come onto the main highway that anyone speaks, even though they’ve technically been able to whisper to each other ever since they got in the car.

“Fuck me, that was tense…” Will breathes, pinching the bridge of his nose before nervously running a hand over his forehead.

“You did good, all of you,” Pero compliments, because he really hadn’t thought that they’d get through the woods as easily as they did.

“How’s Nikita doing?” Garin asks then, turning in his seat so that he can see the women in the back.

“She’s exhausted,” Gillian answers. “She passed out shortly after we got going.”

“We’ll stop somewhere out of sight to try and get some fluids and nutrition into her, but not yet. I wanna be absolutely sure that we’re not being followed,” Tovar replies, glancing in the rearview mirror so that he can see if the nurse seems to object.

It doesn’t look like she does, but she looks worried. Which is understandable for a number of reasons, but perhaps mostly because she’s getting ready to leave them to their fates and try and restore her own life as best she can. She’s taking a huge risk. There’s every chance that their enemies know about her involvement and may try to use her to find out what they’re planning, in which case, she could end up tortured to death in the pursuit of information.

But this is the choice she’s made, and she has certainly earned the right to make her own decisions, even though they could end up damaging the entire group. Somehow though, Pero doubts that the stoic young nurse would divulge anything to anyone that tried to force her. There’s a quiet strength to her, and while her experiences at the safe house have tested her limits and brought her to a breaking point, she has still demonstrated a tremendous resolve and loyalty, even to complete strangers.

No. She won’t give up just because some asshole might try and make her. And when the inevitable goodbye finally comes, she departs from the group with equal parts sorrow and relief, hugging Niki for a good minute while offering well-wishes and good fortunes, adding the promise that should someone come for her, she will take responsibility for her own actions and not let any blame fall upon the group. They all believe her.

-=¤=-

The apartment is nice and the view leaves little to be desired. If not for the constant threat of capture and death, they might’ve enjoyed their stay in The Big Apple a bit more. As it is, no matter where they are, the threat remains the same, so their lives continue to be on hold while they search for a way to set themselves free. Pero is the only one who leaves their new accommodations for any lengths of time, and only when he must.

He’s doing what he can to stay up to date with their enemies’ movements, and to that end, his network of spies has proven invaluable, since Will is having trouble keeping his activities online hidden. It’s only been nine days and Garin has repeatedly stated that to do what he needs to do in a safe way, he first needs to establish unbreakable encryptions and massive firewalls to his systems, and that that takes time.

So, they find themselves at an impasse. Unable to act for lack of information, and slowly going insane due to isolation and imprisonment. In that regard, Pero and Will are doing much better than Niki, since the former does get to leave the apartment now and then, and the latter mostly doesn’t want to, being the hermit that he is.

But the unfortunate Miss Morse is used to working around a huge warehouse, both indoors and out, regardless of weather. She’s used to working with her body and having the satisfying physical fatigue at the end of each day, to help lull her to sleep. And now that her body is beginning to regain its former strength, the lack of activity is leaving her more than just restless. It’s begun to eat away at her mind as well.

The curtains are always drawn shut over the windows, as an added precaution, and she spends hours every day standing by the door to the balcony, peering out over the city through the tiny gap between the two lengths of fabric which obscure her view. Each day, her desire to simply step through that door and just stand outside where there aren’t any walls around her, grows stronger. And today, she seems especially hounded by her own detrimental circumstances.

“Careful, sweetheart,” Pero gently admonishes when she tugs on the edge of the curtain, not enough to open it further, but clearly wanting to.

She doesn’t respond verbally, but when she lets go of the fabric, she brings her arms up to cross them over her waist and demonstratively steps away from the window. As if she can only barely keep from screaming at him, using motion to try and quell the negative impulse.

“It’s not worth it,” he reminds her, knowing that she remembers the lives that have been lost in the name of protecting her, and that any unnecessary risk on her part would be the same as saying that those deaths were meaningless.

“I know that, Torkie. I’m not gonna jeopardize anything, but this incessant inactivity is making my skin crawl.”

“It’s the same for all of us, Niki,” he reminds her, and she sighs and takes a completely unnecessary walk around the living room while she responds.

“Sure, but where the two of you would lay around in a couch or work on your extracurricular activities in the evenings, I’m used to walking in the woods, or at least among streets lined with trees and bushes and wonderful gardens in people’s yards. I’ve never lived in a concrete jungle specifically because I need the living greenery of the world in my everyday life. I get more than enough of steel, iron and concrete at work. At least the safehouse had a wood interior and was huddled by the most amazing forest I’ve ever seen. But this… this just feels like one giant prison,” she elaborates, and he does understand.

He knows that she’s lived in the quiet and small suburban area just outside of their hometown for as long as she’s worked at OffSup, and he’s been to her house several times. Her own yard is big enough to house a badminton tournament and the neighbors are far enough away that she doesn’t need to worry about them spying through her windows. It’s a beautiful area, populated only with people who love nature and have no trouble sacrificing a few modern comforts to be closer to the wilderness.

“Well, with any luck, I’ll have our security in place by tomorrow, so keep your chin up,” William encourages. “Once I’m certain that it’s safe, I’ll be able to see anyone who tries to access the surveillance and traffic cameras around the building remotely, and as long as no one does, I think we can be fairly certain that we’re safe to go to the corner store at least.”

She smiles at that, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Her heart is heavy with more than just isolation, there’s grief and despair and so much guilt within her as well, none of which she can shed simply by wanting to. The two unfortunate nurses who had died at the hospital garage that first morning weighs on her conscience most of all, even though she’d only just been put back together and was still unconscious at the time.

It pains her because their sacrifice had been involuntary. They’d died simply because they hadn’t questioned Gillian when she’d ordered them to help. Because they’d been good and kind enough to accept her word that the unorthodox transfer had needed to take place. And for that, they’d been gunned down in a parking garage while fleeing for their lives. Gillian had at least been given every chance to leave and had chosen to stay for as long as she had.

Pero can see all of this in Niki’s eyes and body language. How she carries the dead, lets them drag her down like ankers to a ship, like thousands of pounds of metal, threatening to drown her the moment she stops fighting. Which is why she isn’t really fighting for herself anymore. She wants to live, that much is clear, but the need to avenge the innocent, which might include her own baby, has taken over from her need to save herself.

So, that evening, when dinner’s been cleaned away and she steps into the shower which their bedroom is connected to, he follows her. Not into the bath, but into the room, where he changes the sheets of the bed, lights a few candles and then undresses and sits down on the edge of the bed to wait for her. Whether she knows it or not, she needs to feel something good. She needs the mental and physical benefits of sexual satisfaction, and he intends to give it to her. If she’ll let him.

They haven’t been together since before the car-crash, but they’ve since become closer in every other way, so there’s no reason to think that she wouldn’t want to be with him again. Still, as he sits there and waits, he’s nervous. It’s always been purely physical for them both. There’s never been so much at risk as there is now. So, even if she doesn’t reject this offer of closeness, things have and will continue to change with every shared moment between them.

She emerges from the steamy heat of the bathroom wearing only a towel around her body, and then stops when she sees him sitting there without a thread on him. Her eyes scan the room, seeing the candles and the fresh sheets, and her features soften as she realizes what he’s offering. Smiling softly, but with a hint of worry in her frame, she steps closer and lets the towel fall to the floor.

He’s seen her new scars before, but never like this. Never with the intent of touching them romantically, exploring and caressing them, and she clearly wonders what he’ll think and feel about her body now that it’s so different. Eager to let her know that what he sees doesn’t repel him, or even diminish her appeal to him, he pulls her close, until she’s standing in between his knees and he can kiss the imperfections on her abdomen, before moving down to where his child is hopefully growing.

“Why don’t you have any medical records?” he asks quietly, as he suddenly recalls his conversation with Dr. Jackson, while he was waiting for her to come out of surgery. “You told me about your earlier scars, the collarbone and the riding accident, but the hospital couldn’t find any records on you.”

“They wouldn’t… because those were lies,” she admits, and she looks ashamed now.

Their entire relationship was constructed upon the foundation of mutual honesty, which she has just confessed to be false, and she expects him to react to that. To be upset. And she’s trying to prepare herself to accept whatever that reaction might be.

“Those injuries happened when I was working on the project, and they weren’t accidents.”

“They were punishments,” he guesses, and she nods.

“Not even for disobedience. A guard twisted my shoulder so violently that it snapped my collarbone in half, just to demonstrate how powerless we were to save ourself, should we get the idea to steal information or try to destroy any progress we made. And this…” she gestures to the scar on her arm, from when it had been broken, “…this was my punishment for talking to another technician about something other than the work which I’d been assigned.”

She looks so defeated as she talks about this, and he doesn’t like to see that. Lies or no lies, she hasn’t tried to deceive him, only protect herself.

“I’m not angry with you, Niki. I understand that you had to keep that to yourself. Just like I never told you about Mr. Hood,” he reminds her, and she does look more comfortable then.

“I would’ve understood if you had. I wouldn’t have found you less attractive for knowing that you can’t abide cruelty or falseness in people.”

“Thank you. But that’s also easier to say in retrospect.”

“Yeah… that’s probably true. Still, our relationship was never meant to be that involving. We deliberately withheld things from each other to try and maintain that safe distance between us. To not get to know each other well enough that we risked falling in love,” she reminds him, and he feels like that must’ve been another life in another dimension, because he couldn’t keep her out of his heart now, no matter how hard he might try.

“Mm. Look where that got us…” he observes, and she shrugs.

“Again: hindsight makes everything clearer. It doesn’t mean we were wrong to make the choices that we did at the time.”

“Maybe not, but now that I’ve let myself go there, loving you with all my heart, those years spent behind walls suddenly seem so useless and cowardly.”

“You are many things, Pero, but not a coward. There are few people in this world who live as honestly as you do, and believe me, that takes courage.”

“I shouldn’t have thrown you out that night. If I hadn’t been so selfish-…”

“Don’t do that to yourself, honey,” she cuts him off, putting her hands on his cheeks to keep him from looking away. “They would’ve found a way to get to me anyway. I know that because I went to see you on a whim that night, after the pregnancy test had come back positive. It wasn’t planned, I never mentioned it to anyone or even voiced my need to see you out loud, I just grabbed my purse and ran out, terrified that if I hesitated, I’d lose my nerve and decide not to talk to you about it at all. So, they couldn’t have known that I’d be on that road on that particular evening at that specific time, unless they were already tracking my car.”

He hears her, and he knows that she’s probably right, but he also knows that he hurt her that night. Badly.

“I remember that look in your eyes… how completely I lost your trust in that moment. How scared and alone you felt. And I had no intention of helping you. I opened a bottle of whiskey and drank myself to sleep instead,” he admits, feeling almost sick to his stomach with the memory. “But getting that call… hearing that you’d been hit and that you were in critical condition… I’ve never felt that kind of bone-chilling terror in my life.”

“I know. I could see that in your eyes when I first woke up, and it confused me more than not recognizing my surroundings did, because I’d never seen you afraid or even worried about anything before that moment.”

“Because I hadn’t been, not for years at that point, since I hadn’t had anything to lose for over a decade. Then suddenly my entire world seemed to be falling apart, and I couldn’t even understand that it was because I already loved you. But I do now. I understand so much more now.”

He doesn’t tell her where his mind goes, following that thought. He doesn’t tell her about the threats he’s made and the horrific acts of violence that he has and will continue to commit, to ensure her safety. That when he says that he will stop at nothing to protect her, he really does mean it. With any luck, she won’t have to see him at his darkest before this comes to an end.

Instead, he pulls her closer still, until she has to straddle him on the edge of the bed, at which point, he nuzzles his face into her breasts and hugs her body to his, letting the warmth of her skin chase away the darkness of his thoughts. She wraps her arms around his head and shoulders, then pushes him back until he lays down flat. He lets his hands caress their way down her sides, until he reaches the swell of her ass, and pulls her down onto his hips.

He doesn’t need to say that she still looks perfect to his eyes. The fact that his hands flow as comfortably over her scarred surface as they do over her soft tits or strong thighs, is all she needs to know that he doesn’t see flaws, but history. A life that’s been lived and the consequences of that life, for better or worse. He wants to tell her how he longs to see the stretchmarks that their baby might cause. How much he wishes for that to be all she has to worry about.

But he says nothing, because hopes are so unbearably fragile, and so easily crumbled. Instead, he follows her lead. Lets her work herself on his hardening cock while his hands speak for him, praising her body, lingering on the little swelling between her hips which he hopes is more than just her normal weight coming back. And she hears him, even without the words, just as he knows that she will.

But her lung still isn’t back to form, so even the heavy breathing associated with arousal is enough to give her trouble, and she soon falls to the side, beckoning him to roll with her so that she can relax underneath him. He knows her body almost as well as he knows his own. Her injuries might be new to him, but he still knows how she’ll react to everything he does, which is why he inches himself into her slowly, so she won’t gasp at the overload of sensation.

She’s always loved that first push. The initial connection and the excitement of knowing that she’s about to be thoroughly pleasured. But tonight, he needs her to be calm. To let him convince her body that it’ll get everything it wants, even though it’ll happen slowly and softly. To let him build the crescendo in a steady stream, rather than a raging river.

And as though her body has forgotten that pleasure even exists, she responds so beautifully to his efforts that she comes for him after just a few minutes, so overwhelmed herself that she doesn’t manage to prepare for it. Her muscles and nerves are still affected by the surgical scars, the damage underneath, and the weeks of bedrest, that when her body suddenly convulses with almost violent satisfaction, it makes her limbs cramp up, trying to shield her torso.

“No… don’t stop,” she breathes through the spasms, clawing at his back to urge him to move, so he does.

And as he does, the overstimulation seems to help her. Maybe because it sends blood rushing out into her limbs to try and disperse the heat from her core, or maybe just because it overloads her nerves system until it can’t lock in place anymore, but whatever the case, she quickly becomes pleasantly boneless underneath him. He keeps going, hitting her harder now that her breathing is made easier by the increase of dopamine in her system.

Knowing that she’s satiated, that he’s managed to please her despite the obstacles that her physique still poses, fills him with a primal sort of pride which leaves him breathless as he takes in the relaxed afterglow that’s already begun to spread across her features. He keeps his movements soft and languid, helping her come down while beginning to work her again, knowing that she’s usually even easier to pleasure after her first orgasm.

Once more, she responds perfectly. Losing herself in the rapture, she seems to forget that time and space even exists, softly clinging to his body with complete trust that he’ll give her everything she wants, no matter what state she’s in. And when she comes again, less intensely but somehow even deeper, he unravels with her. He takes care to control his movements, not to hit her too hard when his body too begins spasming with the overload to his system, and she thankfully doesn’t seem bothered.

Still, he rolls off her as soon as he’s in full control of his limbs again, knowing that she can’t carry the weight of him on top of her yet, and pulls the duvet over her so she won’t cool too quickly. She hasn’t worked up that much of a sweat, but the inner heat still affects her. For a long while, she just lays there, breathing through the aftermath of her climaxes, and he lays right beside her, watching her without even blinking.

He knows every line and burgeoning wrinkle, every facial muscle and how she uses them. Which faces she makes, and which expressions are her most common ones. She smiles a lot. The laugh-lines around her eyes have begun to show even though she’s only in her mid-thirties, and even though she spent almost a decade living and working under the threat of pain and death. Perhaps finding things to smile about was what had gotten her through it.

In any case, he loves those lines. He loves what they say about her personality, just like he loves that her body is normally healthily thick. Not skinny nor fat, just normal. She has meat on her bones. The way she looks now, after weeks of depleting her fat reserves in order to heal and survive, despite the stress and fear she’s been living with, appears sickly to his eyes.

He can’t wait for her to come back to the fullness he’s used to feeling underneath her skin, whereas all he feels now is protruding ribs and hipbones. Her collarbones and jaw look unnaturally sharp, and even her fingers seem to have lost their softness. But she’s alive, and recovering well, so with time these things will sort themselves out, if he can only keep the threats away from her.

“Thank you,” she quietly says in the middle of his pondering. “I needed that.”

“I know,” is all he replies, because it’s enough for her to hear everything behind the words as well.

The affection he has for her, allowing him to recall every detail about her. Allowing him to know her like the pages of a favorite book, just like she undoubtedly knows him as well. He helps her turn to her good side and then settles in behind her, kissing her neck and caressing her belly while she slowly drifts off to sleep. But he doesn’t.

This was a much-needed reprieve, but it was only temporary. Their circumstances haven’t improved, and while he always encourages her to relax and try not to worry, he’s incapable of following that advice himself. Not until he knows that they’re safe. So, an hour later, when she’s deep within the dreamlands of her subconscious, he gets up.

He finds Will by the computer in his own room, as usual.

“How are we looking?” he asks once he reaches the man, and Garin flinches slightly.

“Fuck, man… Do you have to sneak around like that, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Not intentionally.”

“Yeah, right. Stealth is like your normal state, have you ever considered how screwed up that is?”

“It shouldn’t be a problem for anyone who has nothing to hide,” Tovar chides, but more conversationally than accusatory.

“Or people with no heart-problems…” William grumbles, which seems excessive.

“Which you don’t have.”

“Hey, post traumatic stress sufferer over here. My heart is as frail as they come, just maybe not physically.”

Pero doesn’t have a comeback for that, and even if he did, he probably wouldn’t say it, because Will’s problem is no joke. The fact that he’s even bringing it up says a lot about how far he’s come in his discomfort with the subject. He accepted the diagnosis right away, having struggled for years before he finally saw a specialist and had it confirmed, but his self-imposed isolation has made it difficult for him to talk about or even admit that he has mental problems around others.

“Sorry,” he offers, and Garin shoots him a grateful nod.

“About our security, I’ve just about sealed it shut. Another few lines of code and we should be good. I’ve double and triple-checked everything, so unless I’ve missed some major flaw, even a whole team of hackers would need several weeks, if not months, to crack it.”

“Good. Because we need to start going on the offensive. I need a face to the threat, a new angle to push at, because right now, all my sources are coming up dry,” Pero says, to which the other man huffs a little.

“I thought you had people at the highest levels looking into this.”

“I do, but they can only do so much without being detected, and if they’re caught with their fingers in the cookie jar, I start losing assets that we can’t afford to lose. Because they’ve still got their eyes and ears open, and they’ll contact me if something new comes up. But beyond that, you’re my best hope for new leads.”

“Great, no pressure,” Garin mumbles, only half serious, but Tovar still decides to remind him of his value, because his confidence can’t begin to falter now.

“You’ve got this, Will. I wouldn’t trust you with her life if I didn’t believe that,” he reminds the vet, who looks mildly stunned by the compliment.

“I appreciate you saying that. Really.”

“Just keep working,” he replies with a reassuring pat on Will’s shoulder, before he starts to leave the room. “I need to check if anyone’s got any new intel.”

“Sure. How does that work, anyway? Do you have like, drop-boxes around the city, or something?”

“No. If one of my sources has something, they leave a specific message at a specific location, either here in the city, in certain newspaper ads, or digitally, and then I contact them to find out what they know,” Pero explains, pausing by the door.

“Ah. Old school,” the man nods approvingly.

“And safe. For them and me.”

“Right, well hopefully I’ll have this up and running by the time you get back.”

“Good.”

He leaves the apartment and follows his usual safety routine to make sure that no one knows exactly where he’s coming from or how he enters and exits the building, avoiding all the security cameras and emerging at different locations around the block, by utilizing the sub-basement levels. The first thing he did before they even moved in there, was to copy a security card that gives him access to every locked door throughout the entire high-rise, including the maintenance levels and service tunnels.

It’s around midnight when he steps out of a subway entrance on the other side of the street, and walks off down the block, intending to visit a corner store that he hasn’t been to in the last week. He randomly switches the stores he uses so that no one can work out where he’ll go on any given occasion.

Stepping inside, he locates the newspaper stand right away, but he browses the shelves for a while first, picking out random items to buy while discreetly observing all other customers to see if he recognizes any faces, before he grabs the two papers he needs on his way to the register. He pays for the few items in cash and then leaves, stepping over to an all-night café at the other side of a four-way intersection, where he orders a cup of tea and sits down to read the papers, looking for all the world like a man who just can’t sleep and is passing the time.

To keep up the appearance of being idle, he doesn’t just jump to the pages he needs to check, taking the time to peruse each page as though looking for something interesting, which does help him to stay aware of what’s going on in the city as well. But tonight, one of the headlines catches his attention for all the worst reasons.

Nurse found strangled in hospital basement

It’s the correct hospital, the story making its way into a major New York paper because of the gruesomeness of the crime, despite being halfway across the country. And the details tell him that it is indeed Gillian who’s been tortured and murdered, even though no name has been released yet. He closes the paper and rubs at his eyes, trying to keep the anger at bay.

She was a good person. She deserved so much better, and he can’t help but feel responsible, even though the decisions had been her own. But he only gives himself a few moments to grieve her, because this changes things. Even though he wants to believe that she could’ve resisted their efforts to find out where Nikita was heading, he has to assume that she was made to reveal what little she knew, which also means that he has to assume that their enemy has already reached the city.

And just as that thought has made a home for itself in his mind, the door to the café opens, and a woman walks in. A woman which he instantly knows is there to find him. There’s nothing obvious in her demeanor to suggest it, but something about her poise and how she carries himself sets off all the alarm bells within him. He remains in his seat, watching her scan the tables and the backs of the people sitting at the counter, before spotting him in the far-left corner.

Once she’s seen that his entire focus is on her, she drops any pretenses she might’ve had, and approaches his table, apparently correctly assuming that trying to hide from him in plain sight won’t work.

“Mr. Hood, I presume?” she asks once she’s reached him, taking a seat opposite him without invitation.

He doesn’t engage in conversation right away because he can learn a lot more about her by simply watching her for a few minutes. He’s already discerned that she’s military, most likely special ops, possibly with a CIA background, all from how she speaks, moves and dresses.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I think you and I have some business to work out,” she carries on, seemingly oblivious to how much she’s revealing about herself with each word spoken.

When he still doesn’t respond, she takes it upon herself to launch into a description of how she found him, which beyond being a waste of time, is also incredibly informative for him. She probably does it merely to boast, and make him realize what resources are at her disposal, but he already knows those things, so all she’s succeeding in doing, is revealing so much more detail than she thinks is possible for another person to learn in mere seconds.

“I have a minor fleet of technicians working solely on finding you, so once we learned which city that you’re in, the camera surveillance made it easy,” she says, confirming that Gillian had indeed been made to tell them what little she could, and it makes the anger within him grow both deeper and hungrier. “So, now, all that remains is locating the lovely Miss Morse, and whether you want to or not, you’re gonna help me with that, Mr. Hood.”

“No, actually, you’ve got that the wrong way around,” he says, finally joining the conversation but keeping his tone leveled and the depths of his fury well hidden.

She smiles as though his participation means that she’s already won. But she couldn’t be more wrong, and the fact that she truly has no idea who she’s dealing with, gives him tremendous confidence.

“How so?” she asks, sounding as though this was the most interesting conversation she’s had all year, and he stifles the urge to roll his eyes at her.

“You’re the one that’s helping me, simply by walking in here. I already know that you work for General Hayword and that the technicians you’re talking about are in fact employed by the NSA. You’ve been given every resource available to locate Morse, which is why, failure to do so will end your entire career, and possibly even your life.”

She doesn’t like hearing that, nor that he clearly has a much better grasp of his circumstances than she’d anticipated.

“And how exactly does that help you?” she questions, trying to control her own response by not acknowledging the information that he already has.

“Because it means that all I have to do to get you off our case is keep you chasing me, rather than her. Your own employer will do the work for me.”

“Sure,” she tries to sound aloof, but he can see through it. “But then they’d just send someone else. A new face you don’t know and therefor can’t track.”

“Which would still be to my benefit, because the more people are involved, the easier it is to extrapolate information,” he counters, and her mask breaks just a fraction, revealing a crack in her armor which she then quickly tries to close by sounding clever.

“But that would mean leaving her alone for an unspecified amount of time, and if I know Nikita, she won’t do well on her own for very long. Especially not in a large city, since that’s not at all her element.”

“You’d be surprised what people can get used to when there are evil conspiracies chasing them.”

“I’m not evil,” she says with a grin that directly contrasts her own words, and in response, he allows his own mask to completely vanish as he replies.

“Yes, you are. You might tell yourself that you’re doing this for your country and that one life is no price to pay compared to the risk of the information she possesses ending up in the wrong hands, but in fact… you’re just a murderer. Years of being commended for all the atrocities you’ve committed has left you convinced that you’re doing the right thing, when the truth is that you take on these tasks with excitement. No matter how cruel or gruesome, you never shy away. Because you enjoy the carnage. What you are, is the purest evil there is, and I will happily take my own life if that’s what it takes to keep you away from Niki. But I think I’ll start with taking your life, and then we’ll see what comes crawling out of the woodwork.”

“See now you’re contradicting yourself, Mr. Hood. You just said that if you simply wait, my own employer will do that for you,” she smugly remarks, trying to sound superior.

He leans forwards over the table slightly, fixing her with his dark eyes, which keeps her focus away from where his hands are slowly moving.

“Precisely. I said if I wait. But the fact is that I currently have twelve links to the general, none of which passes through you, so even if I give in to this unadulterated loathing that I have for you and your obvious contempt for every other living thing, I’m pretty sure that I’ll be fine.”

Leaning back again, with a flick of his wrist, almost too quick for the human eye to perceive, he sends a small blade into her brain via her nasal cavity. Not through the nostrils, though, the small throwing knife is heavy enough to penetrate bone if angled correctly, which is why almost all of it disappears into her skull, taking the bulk of her nose with it. She dies instantly, falling forwards onto the table.

To keep her head from banging against the hard wood, he catches it and sets it down, quickly but elegantly, before immediately rising and leaving the café. It’s been a while since he last killed someone like that. In full view of the public and in such a brutal way, but it doesn’t faze him. His assessment of her character was on point, he’s absolutely certain of that, and he has no qualms about murdering bad people.

No, what troubles him when he starts walking down the block in a leisurely pace, is the fact that he really can’t return to Niki now. Not until he’s certain that no one else is tracking his every step. It’s unlikely that anyone will be able to work out where he was coming from based on where he turned up on the city surveillance tonight, but he can’t risk giving them more data to go on. Not around that building at least.

He needs to make them believe that he’s trying to get to another apartment building, preferably not too far from the one they’re currently staying in, and he needs to do it without raising suspicions, either from his own party, or his enemies. So, he strolls along the streets, feigning indifference as he makes his way to one of the neighboring houses, all the while feeling increasingly distraught with the idea that he might not be able to return to Niki and Will for some time.

He wonders what they’ll think. Surely not that he’s abandoned them, they must know by now that he wouldn’t do that. But will that very fact make them think that he’s been taken or harmed? Because if so, there’s a risk that they might do something ill-advised to try and recover him. He has no other choice but to trust that they’ll be smart enough to not do anything rash, since he can’t take a chance at sending them a message right now.

Still, the thought that it could very well be days before he can see his beloved again, is quickly filling his heart with darkness and sorrow, but he can’t let that happen. He needs to be sharp, he needs to work the problem to make it go away, not sit idly by and wait for it to sort itself out. Which is why he starts to formulate a new plan.

If it works, he might be able to crush their opponents from within, or at least cause them enough trouble that leaving Niki alone becomes the preferable solution. But it’s a dangerous play, and one that means putting himself in a terrible position, which is why he hasn’t allowed himself to truly consider it before. He has to, now though, because with this new development it’s only a matter of time before they find her.

The best he can hope for, is that all three of them survive the coming week. Whether they’ll still be able to be together… Well, that was never guaranteed to begin with, although it’s unfortunately starting to seem almost impossible now.

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Part 9

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