Tumgik
#I might tag the rest later but this was mostly for me
vodika-vibes · 2 days
Note
Happy Follower Event! Could I ask for Jango Fett with tanzanite in winter? You write some of the best Jango fics that always hit the spot for me.
Winter Wonderland
Summary: You love Jango, and he loves you. And after an annoying dinner party with people who think you deserve something else, you have a surprise for him.
Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader
Word Count: 868
Prompt: Tanzanite - Perceptive Love
Warnings: None
Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly
A/N: I hope this is close to what you wanted. I went with their 'perceptive love' being more aimed towards being able to read each other no matter where they might be in the room.
Tumblr media
“Well, what do you think?” You ask as you spin in front of Jango, allowing the hem of your sweater dress to swirl around your legs.
A small smile plays on the corner of his lips, “You look stunning, as ever.” He straightens from where he’s leaning against the wall and holds out a hand to you.
You beam at him and step into his personal space sliding your hand into his, “You know, you don’t have to wear your armor everywhere.” You tease.
“It’s warm, and I’m hardly the star of this event,” He presses a feather light kiss against the corner of your lips, “That honor belongs to you.”
Your face heats and you duck your head, “You know mother is going to take this opportunity to arrange a marriage for me, right?”
He chuckles, “I’m not worried.”
“I am!”
“Don’t be. I have you.”
Any and all of the nervous energy thrumming through your body fades at his words. He’s so confident, how could you possibly doubt him?
So you smile at him, and gently brush your lips against his, “My hero.” You lightly pull away and press his helmet into his hands, “We might as well get this over with.”
He chuckles and pulls his helmet on, “Don’t sound too eager, cyare.”
“Well, there’s no risk of that happening.” You tease before you follow him out of the bedroom and into the main part of the hotel room you’re sharing. You pull your boots on as Jango straps his weapons to his body, and then Jango is escorting you to the elevator and down to the banquet hall.
“Darling!” You hide your grimace with the ease of long practice as your mother charges over to you like a bull, and gives you a critical once over, “Well, you don’t look like you just crawled out of the trash, so I’ll take it.” She glances at Jango, “You can go away now. Bodyguards are staying in the back.”
You glance at Jango and flash a weak smile, every line of his body screams ‘not happy about this’ to your eyes, but he nods once and moves through the crowd to join the rest of the guards at the back of the room. 
Forty five minutes later, you’re regretting coming to the banquet at all.
Mother is drunk and has draped herself over a man younger than you. Father is also drunk, and is holding court with a group of women ranging from your mother’s age to younger than you.
And you…well, you’ve been trying to dodge the man your mother decided that you’re going to marry for the better part of forty minutes.
So far, you’ve been pretty careful about making sure that you can’t be cornered. But you’re done. With this whole affair.
So you cast your gaze to the back of the room, and you catch Jango’s attention. His gaze has been a heavy, and comforting, weight against your skin since you arrived, and you tilt your head in just the way that you need to to indicate that you want to leave.
Jango’s at your side in less than 15 seconds, “Are you ready to leave, cyare?” he asks as he sets his hand against the small of your back.
“So ready.” You smile at him, “No one will even notice I’m gone.”
“He will.” Jango notes, tilting his head just enough to gesture to the man who’s been haunting you like a particularly annoying ghost.
“Is that jealousy I hear, Jango Fett?” You tease.
“Pity, mostly. Imagine thinking he could hold a candle to me.”
You laugh softly, “No one could ever compare.” You lean a bit closer, “I would like to leave, Jango.”
“I know, cyare.” He glances around, “This way.”
He leads you out a side door, into the brisk cold outside. There’s snow falling from the sky, and you release a happy hum as you move further away from the hotel. 
“I love the winter, I think it’s my favorite season.”
Jango chuckles, his voice no longer altered by his vocoder, and you turn to look at him. He’s holding his helmet, and watching you with a small smile. “We met in the winter.”
You beam at him, and spin so you’re able to slide into his arms, “It was snowing,” You agree, “And I wasn’t dressed for the weather at all. And you offered me a place on your ship until I could warm up.”
“And you just never left.” Jango finishes with a fond smile, as he tightens his arms around you, “Smartest damn thing I’ve ever done.”
You giggle, and lean up to kiss his jaw. “Well, I happen to agree. But I also have a surprise for you.”
“Oh?”
“Mm, you’re going to need a bigger ship. It’s barely big enough for two…let alone three.”
“Three? Why would there be thre-” He stops and his gaze drops to your stomach, “Wait. Are you-?”
You smile sheepishly, “Surprise.”
You squeak when Jango crashes his lips against yours, “I love you,” He mumbles against your lips, “So.” He kisses you again, “Kriffing.” A third time. “Much.”
And you dissolve into giggles. You knew he’d be excited.
32 notes · View notes
zhongrin · 1 year
Text
my archon
— you sit on the floor by his leg and lay your head on his lap; how does he react?
Tumblr media
◇ characters ◇ zhongli, al haitham, cyno, tighnari, xiao, ayato, childe, wanderer
◇ tags ◇ mostly fluff, slightly suggestive on some, petnames (dear, little one - zhongli | bunny, babe - childe | puppy - ayato)
◇ a/n ◇ is this an excuse for me to imagine getting into a position to worship zhongli? yes. yes it is-
𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡
Tumblr media Tumblr media
zhongli, ever the gentleman, frowns at seeing you sit on the hard cold flooring and caresses your cheek gently, his other hand settling on your shoulder.
“that must be uncomfortable, dear. come rest on-”
he blinks, brows furrowing when you tell him that you want to stay down there by his feet. the protests die in his throat at the reverent gaze you give him, and something stirs in his chest. a nostalgic feeling that takes him millennia back; to the olden times when he was a feared deity of a more… disagreeable temperament.
“…. very well. but at least sit on a cushion, please,” a flutter of his long eyelashes, and for a moment you catch the shadow of his former self behind his amber eyes, “if you are so intent to worship me, who am i to refuse, little one? you already do look the part of a devoted worshipper….. hm... why don’t i teach you how to do this properly.”
Tumblr media
al haitham glances away from his book to raise his eyebrows in amusement toward you.
“what are you doing?” he asks plainly; several possibilities pop up in his sharp-witted brain, but he would rather hear your intention from your own lips rather than blindly guess what your unexpectedly unique mind has concocted this time.
you hum nonchalantly and grab the free hand that isn’t holding his book, insistently tugging on it when he doesn’t budge. with a sigh, he lets you maneuver the appendage so it rests against the top of your head. with a roll of his eyes and a slight redness to his ears, he starts to tend to your hair, blunt nails scratching against your scalp every now and then in a way that you always praise him for doing.
“you’re a strange one, [name].”
hey, they do say birds of a feather flock together, right?
Tumblr media
tighnari gives you a look. you know. that sassy side eye and a crooked smile threatening to lift one corner of his lips?
“am i not the one who’s supposed to be given headpats and pampering?” he asks teasingly, slightly moving his feet to nudge on your sides.
your boyfriend laughs at the playful glare you give him, and he releases the pen from his fingers to give you your much-needed pats. his eyes soften at the way you lean onto his touch, and he slumps backward onto his seat, exhaustion starting to settle in after hours of working on those reports and manuals.
“ten more minutes, and then it’s my turn.”
Tumblr media
childe blinks owlishly at first, lips parted in surprise when you just decide to do this while he was just chilling on the sofa after a long day at work. his expression quickly turns into a teasing boyish grin, however, and he opts to squish your cheeks with his fingers.
“awww, seems like someone really missed me, hmm?” he leans down to place a quick kiss on your puckered lips, “why don’t you climb onto my lap, bunny? i can give you all the attention you’ve missed~”
he frowns when you refuse, and his clear blue eyes darken when you insistently hug one of his legs, your cheek pressing onto his thigh.
“be careful there, babe. you might start something if you keep that up.”
Tumblr media
“what…. is the meaning of this, if i may ask?” cyno asks, flustered, the cards in his hands forgotten.
just seconds ago, you had pushed away the album containing his tcg cards from his lap and replaced it with your pretty head. while he doesn’t mind the sudden change at all - he can always sort out his cards later, you always come first, of course - he’s both befuddled and unsure of what you wish for him to do when you give him those pair of puppy eyes with this unfamiliar arrangement.
he follows your gaze that is locked onto his hand, which prompts him to discard his cards on top of the album and place them on your cheek, calloused thumb slowly drawing circles as he gives you a silent questioning gaze.
when you close your eyes in bliss, he chuckles, and he moves his other hand to settle on your other cheek before leaning down to kiss you on your forehead.
“how is it that you get more and more adorable the more we spend time with each other?”
Tumblr media
kaeya raises his eyebrows, the hand swirling the glass of wine stopping its movements completely as he feels you hug his leg and place your head on his lap. instinctively, his free hand brushes against your cheek.
mischief colors the tone of his voice as you lovingly kiss his knuckles and give him those doe eyes he adores.
“my, a free leg warmer? how kind of you.”
he laughs in response to the playful slap you delivered to his thigh.
“so, are you planning to climb onto my lap anytime soon, or?”
another slap, another laugh, and kaeya leans down to place a kiss on the crown of your head.
“i have to ask - does this leg warmer come with the service of a wine glass holder? hmm? how about a-” [lines redacted to keep this sfw]
Tumblr media
“wha- g-get up! you shouldn’t-” xiao splutters in embarrassment, trying to grab onto your shoulders to pull you into a standing position.
his shock is quickly overwritten by utter confusion when you protest and insist on staying where you are. he ceases trying to move you from the spot, but he decides to ask, “-i… don’t understand. isn’t it uncomfortable? what are you hoping to gain from this?”
the yaksha is still at a loss even after you answer. it’s illogical, he thinks. if his attention is what he wants, why would you choose to have this discomfort when you can just sit beside him and achieve the same thing? does this position have a special meaning to mortals? he’s only seen it on the illustration of that silly romance novel written by an apparently famous mortal from inazuma that you were reading about a week ago, telling a story about a deity and his favored subject- oh.
“…. you’re so weird,” he grumbles, suddenly avoiding your eyes as redness begins to creep onto his cheeks. he is most definitely not a being worthy of worship….. but he supposes if it’s you… he can indulge, right? just for a little….
Tumblr media
“oh dear, it seems like someone’s bored,” ayato chuckles, not even looking down from his paperwork as he repositions his legs on his plush armchair, “unfortunately, puppy, i am currently working and unable to tend to your whims.”
his smile only gets wider when he hears you whine and tug on the sleeves of his kimono. what a greedy little thing; your adorableness truly knows no bounds, he muses in amusement. but it is true that he might have been quite neglectful of your needs the past few days…
but it’s no fun to just give in that easily.
ayato gives you a glance and two short pats that are far too brief to your liking, before he returns his attention to his papers, but not before saying with a teasing edge to his tone, “stay like that for an hour while i finish my work, and i’ll give you all my attention after, alright?”
Tumblr media
wanderer smirks and crosses his arms before leaning back on his chair, clearly amused and pleased at the sight. he attempts to move his leg away, and when you whine and chase after the limb, the puppet barks out an amused laugh, mirth dancing like electric sparks within his eyes.
“look at you, so needy and desperate for my attention,” he rolls his eyes in fake exasperation, though he doesn’t bother hiding the pleased toothy grin on his expression, “what? what do you want?”
he parries your hand away when you reach out for him, a disbelieving huff of breath escaping the ex-harbinger. the flick on your forehead is playful, and the same tone carries to his next words, like a fleeting wisp of breeze cheekily grazing your skin.
“you think you can order me around as you please? think again,” his voice lowers into a darker and softer drawl, “aren’t you already in the correct position? beg, and then, maybe i’ll consider fulfilling your request.”
Tumblr media
© zhongrin | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!
Tumblr media
◇ taglist ◇ @thestarsofenkanomiya | @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sophiethewitch1 | @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me | @sunnshineflxwer | @heartonthemoon | @yuutasbabe | @percyval-archives | @carbs-need-more-love | @rebeccka | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @herdrops | @diebischesther | @marina-and-the-memes | @angryhope | @mixed-kester | @shuangxo | @fiannee | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ladylofspades | @sup-zfam | @ansy-tea
11K notes · View notes
acourtofwhatthefuck · 2 months
Text
Practice On Me — Finale — Azriel x Reader
Summary: The grand Illyrian ball is here. Reader is more than ready to return to Windhaven and Azriel, but daddy Fin throws a huge spanner in the works. Life as they know it is about to change.
Note — I’ve tried to tag everyone who’s asked but there are some people that it simply won’t let me tag 🥲
Word Count: 10.6k (oop, sorry 😅)
Warnings: There’s a looot to unpack here. Depictions of violence and gore. Some light smut. 18+!
Tumblr media
This place is cold and unforgiving.
The air in your lungs is constricted before you’ve even stepped through the giant gates. They call it the Hewn City due to its entirety being hewn from cold, hard rock.
But you get the feeling these walls are more than that. You can feel the horror in the cracks, the loneliness that screams behind its surface.
You don’t know how Mor has survived so long here. You’re already itching to get out.
A warm hand splays across your back, and you turn to face Fin. It’s not the first time he drinks you in so hungrily, but you could be forgiven for thinking so, by the way his eyes heat all over again. He glances quickly at your lips, and in this empty meeting room that he’s stolen you away to, you’re not at all sure that he isn’t bold enough to act on that hunger.
“Focus, High Lord.” You murmur, brushing the lapel of his tailored jacket. “You’ve an audience waiting for you.”
Somewhat of an infantile groan leaves him — one you’re not sure he’d share with many others. He dips down and allows his forehead to drop against your shoulder, slowly breathing in your scent.
“And if I said fuck the audience,” he murmurs, “and decided to stay here to dip under this gown and ravish you? What then?”
“Then I wager your subjects would be mighty displeased that you brought them here for nothing.”
“I could make you moan,” his nose nudges your neck, “loud enough to give them a show.”
“Later.” You promise falsely, and the lie is sour on your tongue. You step back and straighten yourself out. “You have a duty to attend to.”
The way his eyes sweep you tells you that you are the only duty he wishes to attend to. But he relents with a sigh and inclines his head.
“I do.” He admits. “And I will have to play my role out there. I’ll be mostly unavailable for the duration of this ball, so…I want you to go and have fun. Just don’t stray too far. I’ve organised the evening’s entertainment with you in mind, and I want you by my side when you see it.”
For a beat, you can only blink at him. You’re…touched, that he would do that for you. And your mind immediately starts swirling with possibilities of what that entertainment might be. Perhaps a show of professional dancers or a theatrical performance.
You study him, attempting to glean information merely from the expression on that granite-hewn face. “It’s Starfall.” You remind him. “Is that not the evening’s entertainment?”
He merely smiles. “I’ll send for you when it’s time.” He leans down, coasting his lips over one cheek and then the other. “Enjoy yourself.”
Without another word, he turns. Rolls his shoulders and slips into his High Lord roll. But before he can take a step towards the door, you're grabbing his hand.
“Fin—” You blurt, and he stops. You swallow as you stare up at him. “Just…please don’t let Tathaln Baralas ruin the camps.”
His gaze searches your face. You can’t get a read on his expression.
But then the corners of his lips curve up, and he’s squeezing your hand.
“I won’t let Tathaln become a problem.” He says, and then repeats, “enjoy yourself.”
The way he prises his hand from yours has an air of finality that stops you from pushing any further. You want to ask — beg, if you have to — for his reassurance. But he strides to the door, sleek black shoes clipping against the marble floor.
And left alone, you think you may have done all you possibly can do. That the rest is out of your hands.
So you attempt to shake off your relentless anxiety, and you go to find your friends.
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
Weaving through the mammoth structure and the sea of Illyrians that fill it, you’ve already witnessed three fights and two couples damn near fucking in nothing more hidden than the alcoves carved into the walls. Pretty tame for your people, but alas, the night is young.
There are so many pairs of wings. There is such a thick air of arrogance and ego and brutishness. You’re not quite sure where you fit in here, but before you can find a refreshment that will dull that feeling, strong arms are wrapping around your waist and yanking you backwards.
You scream, and no one around you bats an eyelash. You thrash and buck, but the attempt is met with—
Deep, smooth laughter that you know so, so well.
You relax in the offender’s hold immediately, and their arms loosen enough for you to twist in them.
You glare up at Cassian and send a punch to his bicep. “Asshole.”
“Ow!” He chokes on another laugh, and then he’s grinning brilliantly, white teeth gleaming in the fae light. “Hello, Sweetpea. I’ve missed you.”
Fuck, you’ve missed him too. And that’s all it takes for you to throw your arms around him and squeeze.
He smells like Cass. That rugged scent of his that is such a comfort. And the way he hugs you back, firm yet gentle, warm and loving and present, tells you that any previous anger he had towards you is a thing of the past.
“Windhaven is fucking boring without you.” He pulls back, holding you at arms length — and blinks. “Holy gods, look at you.”
“Look at you.” Your eyes rove over him, from his tailored, maroon-coloured suit to his brushed, slicked-back hair. His wings are squeaky clean and flared proudly. He’s stunning. Breathtaking.
He cracks another Cassian grin. “Who knew we could brush up so well, hey, Sweetpea? You’re absolutely gorgeous. I’ll be the envy of all these Illyrian males, knowing I fucked you—”
“Cassian.” You land another hit to his bicep. “Don’t ruin the moment.”
“Sorry, sorry. I’ve actually been sent to collect you. A certain someone is waiting for you on a patio. I’ll give you a clue — he, too, has fucked you—”
With a roll of your eyes, albeit a fond one, you’re breezing past him with a feeling of…need. To see Azriel. To have him ground you in a place and circumstance of such unfamiliarity. You need that comfort.
Cass follows promptly, slinging an arm around your shoulder — not just because he’s missed you, but because the leering eyes of hundreds of Illyrian males follow your every step. Those gazes seem to drink in your dress bead by little bead. They’re hungry for sex and for violence.
“Out here.” Your friend steers you down a hallway, untouched by not only guests, but also the horrific brilliance of the rest of this place. This is an area that most aren’t supposed to see, with chipped concrete floors and peeling walls. It’s so cold, so ugly and uninviting, that you can’t imagine why Azriel would summon you here, of all places.
But then a door appears at the end of the winding hall, open just enough for a sliver of moonlight to touch the threshold. The fresh air has goosebumps spreading over your skin.
“He wanted some private time with you. Rhys and I said we’d keep watch.” Cass studies you and huffs a deep, dramatic sigh. “I’m trying really hard not to feel left out right now.”
“I’m sure you don’t really want to be the third wheel—”
“Sure I do. I’ve told Az that he wouldn’t even know I’m there, but no, he wants you all to himself. Selfish bastard.” He reaches out, pulling the door open wider for you. And then he calls, “I hope you heard that, fucker!”
Strong footsteps emerge from argent moonlight, and Azriel’s voice is a lilting shiver across your skin. “You know I heard it, you idiot.” He says. “You…”
His words trail off as he takes you in, and suddenly you don’t know what to do with your hands, your face, with any part of you.
His stare holds the weight of a very ancient love, so much older than the both of you. It somehow translates that you had his heart in a previous life, when you were different people entirely, and you’ll still have it in the next, when your souls begin anew.
He swallows, loud enough that you all hear it. And his voice is husky as he says, “There are no words worthy of you.”
And you’re hit with a strange urge to cry. Mostly because you feel exactly the same way about him.
He is…exquisite. He’s slicked his hair back, and that alone is a huge thing for him — to openly show each and every curve and line of his face, with no strands to hide behind. The curtain of his thick, dark lashes only accentuates the honey of his eyes and the gold of his skin.
And the suit he’s donned for the evening — that same maroon colour that Cass is wearing. You wonder if Rhys, wherever he is, is wearing the same. Whether the trio look as breathtaking together as you expect them to.
“No words.” Az repeats, shaking his head. “The Mother herself must have sent you to me.”
Cassian smirks and rests an elbow atop of your head, regardless of your perfected hair. “I said the same.”
You quirk an eyebrow. “No, you didn’t.”
“Well, I said something similar.”
“It wasn’t even close to that.”
“Be grateful of my winning charm—”
“Cassian.” Az cuts him off. “Why don’t you go and find Rhys?”
Cass lets out an infantile whine. “But he’s having private time with Zakai.”
“And I’d like to have some private time with Y/N, so. Run along.”
Your friend offers a great, dramatic huff that makes you grin, but he removes his arm from your head and turns.
“This whole coupling up thing is boring!” He calls, retreating down the hall.
And then it’s just you and Azriel.
Your love. Your heart.
You turn back to him with a coy smile, reaching up to fix your hair.
“Let me.” Az murmurs, and he steps closer, his fingers sinking into the strands of your hair. Up close, you drink him down even more, greedy and insatiable. You want to know every expression, every thought.
“There are no words worthy of you, either.” You whisper, and his eyes drop down from your hair to meet yours. “You’re a vision, Az.”
He studies you for a moment. And though his hands leave the strands, they lower only to cup your face. His thumb strokes your cheek.
“What I am,” he murmurs, “is yours.”
Your eyes shutter, and you drop your forehead against his. Every last bit of trouble and turmoil you’ve experienced has been worth it to hear those words. You want them to mark your skin.
You push up onto the tips of your toes, slanting your mouth over Azriel’s. He wastes no time in sliding his hands to your waist and hauling you close to him.
You kiss him like doing so here isn’t risky. Like you have the freedom to kiss him whenever and however you both want, and there are no outer forces getting in the way. You long for the day when that will be the case. When you can love, and love proudly.
Perhaps that luxury isn’t too far out of reach.
Az seems to think so, too, as he pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours once more, and he says, breathlessly, “Things are going to change — after tonight. I can feel it.”
You study him, searching for deeper meaning. And as though they can sense your anxiety, his shadows snake around your ankles in a soothing caress. “A good change, I hope.”
“Whatever it is, we’ll face it together. Me and you. I’m yours.”
You peck him once, twice. “And I am yours.”
Those words alone are enough to make heat blaze in his eyes. With adoration making way for passion, lust, he allows his gaze to rake over you, and he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip.
“So fucking gorgeous.” His voice is guttural. “If we didn’t have to attend this ball right now, I would—”
The door flies open behind you, and Az looks more than ready to throttle Cassian as he prances back into sight and announces, “Found Rhys!”
“And we brought booze.” Rhys swiftly follows with a smirk. “Raided personally, by me, from my asshole father’s stash.”
Sure enough, his suit matches the other two. And seeing the three of them together like that, looking so beautiful, so proper, so…matured—
A lump forms in your throat that you force down. You furiously blink away the tears that sting your eyes.
Because it hits you, just then, how much you’ve missed this — the four of you, just being together, like old times. You were always such a strong unit, always driven by your love for one another, and the dysfunctional, unconventional, beautiful family you became. It’s been a long while since you looked upon these three males without burdening thoughts always remaining a step away. You miss the ease. You miss the love.
But here it is, right in front of you, just like it always will be. And in that moment, nothing else matters but your little unit. Just you, Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand.
As you shake out of your thoughts, you realise Rhys is staring at you just as intensely. Strong emotion swims in his eyes.
“…What?” You ask, smoothing your hands over your dress.
“You just…look incredible.” He smiles softly. “Every single star that soars above our heads tonight will have nothing on you.”
Just as you think you’re about to get choked up all over again, Cassian smirks and declares, “I said the same.”
You scowl, reaching out to swat him. “No, you did not. Just accept you’re bad at compliments and move on.”
“I’m a master at compliments, thank you very much.”
Az slides an arm around your waist and quirks an eyebrow. “You took Sacha for a drink and complimented her by saying you look like you bathed. You’re hardly a poet, Cass.”
It’s Cassian’s turn to scowl then. “Well, what I may lack in poetry, I make up for in the bedroom. As Y/N clearly knows.”
A snarl rips from Azriel’s throat. “Watch yourself.”
Rhys rolls his eyes and smacks Cassian upside the head. “Don’t wind him up, dickhead.”
“Who are you calling dickhead?”
“I’m calling you dickhead, dickhead.”
The bickering becomes background noise as you prise the bottle from Rhys’s hand and take a generous swig — none of which he even notices, as he and Cass continue taking swipes at each other.
And as the liquid burns your throat, you meet Azriel’s gaze. Both of you grin. He takes the bottle from you.
In that moment, all you feel is happiness. Beautiful familiarity. Rhys and Cassian tearing chunks out of each other while you and Azriel watch and laugh from the sidelines. It makes your heart feel heavy with such warmth that it may just burst.
You do not need lavishness or luxury. Your life is nothing special, but you do not want for anything.
Just this. Only this.
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
“Who knew so many Illyrians could dance?”
Rhysand’s steps are swift and flawless. It’s situations like these — ones of strict propriety and, dare you say, class — that you’re reminded he’s only half-Illyrian. The other males around you may be trying their hand at dancing, but Rhys flows through each number with barely a thought.
You smile up at him, secure in his hold. A dance floor full of Illyrians is a temperamental and, quite frankly, stupid idea. Anyone who gets too close to another’s wings is asking for a punch. Or five.
But so far, it’s been surprisingly uneventful. And you might even begin to relax and enjoy yourself — if not for the images you keep glimpsing in your periphery.
Every now and then, a flash of bright red will pass you by as Kaeda is spun from one set of burly arms to another. Her dress is the same shade as her hair. It’s alarming. Makes you think of blood.
And even more alarming, perhaps, is the pair of eyes that follow you from the dais. Fin spares only cursory glances to the rest of his guests, from where he sits on his throne in pensive silence, but his eyes linger heavily on you. Hungry, flaming eyes that follow your every move. And standing at his side — Tathaln Baralas.
The Lord of Fenlaros is even bigger than you remember. In a tailored suit, he looks…all wrong. That kind of finery will never work with him. He’s rugged, and cold, and something tells you that while Fenlaros is considerably more civilised than the majority of Illyrian camps, Tathaln Baralas feels most at home with the bare necessities. Luxury is nothing but a fly buzzing in his ear.
But he will tolerate that fly, you know — can tell, precisely from the way his dark, frightening eyes watch the room with more intensity than any single person should harbour. And that intensity is directed solely at one person. Azriel.
Tathaln watches the shadowsinger as though he’s weighing up whether he can kidnap him from this event and force him to Fenlaros. It makes your stomach turn.
“You seem on edge tonight.” Rhys’s deep gaze studies you. His hand presses firmer against the small of your back. “I won’t let anything happen to you, don’t worry.”
You’re not sure if he’s referring to his father, or to Kaeda, or to her father. Or even just to the evening in general. But you squeeze his hand, all the same.
“You’re the best.” You tell him. “And you should be dancing with Zakai.”
His eyes glimmer with his signature charm. “Oh, I will. But I always intended to save the first dance for my best girl.”
The sentiment is so…Rhysand, so comforting, that you almost — almost — start to think that everything will be alright.
But he spins you under his arm, and it’s like being spun straight back into reality. Because as you turn, that gaze from up on the dais meets yours again.
And this time, it’s not just hungry — but possessive.
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
You dance and dance until your feet feel like they might fall off. Although, you’re not sure how much of that can be attributed to Cassian stepping on them throughout his uncoordinated prancing.
But the more the night wears on, the more your stomach churns with deep, unrelenting anxiety. You feel sick. Like a shadow of doom is looming over your shoulder and waiting to pull you into its thrall. By the time Cassian hands you over to Azriel, you’re not entirely sure that you won’t be sick.
Az studies your face with clear concern on his own — concern that doesn’t make his steps falter. He’s a natural dancer, taught and honed by Roza. Almost as good as Rhys. He moves as swift as flying, but his expression doesn’t hold the same ease.
“What is it?” He asks, and his thumb sweeps a stroke over your hip. “You don’t look well.”
So badly, you want to lean into his touch. But…not now — not with Fin watching. You dare a quick glance at the dais, and sure enough, his eyes stalk you. They follow everywhere Azriel touches your body. Strangely, the hunger in them intensifies. The hickory shade of them has darkened until it’s almost a stark black. He licks his lips and watches Azriel’s fingers caress you through your dress.
“I’m just…ready for this night to be over. You know all this luxury isn’t my thing.”
His hands press firmer against your skin. “I must say, as much as I’m loving this dress, I’m equally excited to rip it off—”
“May I?”
Two seconds. You look away for two seconds, and Fin is suddenly off the dais and behind you. The guests around you all watch with curious eyes.
Azriel pauses, his lingering touch letting you know just how reluctant he is to let you go.
But ultimately, he is wise. And ultimately, he concedes.
“Of course, High Lord.” He inclines his head. “She’s your special guest, after all.”
“Yes.” Fin’s eyes don’t stray from you. “She is.”
You know it’s deliberate — the way he makes sure everyone is watching as he scoops you into his arms with a small lift off the ground. And then he begins dancing, and everyone else resumes.
As you follow his steps, you allow yourself the chance to look at him. Look at him, and wonder if he’ll hate you after all this is over. You…you don’t want him to hate you. That complicates things, but gods above, it’s true.
He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, and you may as well be the only two people in the room as he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear, “When you look at me like that, Y/N, it makes me think I’m not such a bad male as most would think.”
“You’re not.” You respond almost immediately, and you mean it. “I think it’d surprise you to know how highly you’re regarded. Everyone in this room who is looking upon you—”
You yelp as he suddenly dips you, his lips at your ear.
“Everyone in this room,” he says, “is looking at you. And rightfully so. You’re a masterpiece — my masterpiece.”
The compliment — the possessiveness — all seems extreme. But then, you think everything about Fin might be a bit extreme. He doesn’t do anything by halves. The blush that dusts your cheeks seems to please him.
“You like it, don’t you?” His voice is like gravel. “That not a single male in here can take their eyes off you. You are the envy of every female. Stripped of wings, but not of raw, natural beauty.”
He straightens you out before you can reply, and your head spins — with the sudden movement, and with the whiplash of the comment. It both pleases you and reminds you how exposed your back is — the trauma that everyone can see.
“Charming as ever.” You swallow, hope the smile on your face is convincing. “I don’t quite know what to say.”
“Words are not necessary — not tonight.” The song you’re dancing to fades to an end, and he steadies you gently on your feet. His gaze sweeps you again, and he remarks, “The stars will begin their journeys soon.”
In the strange headiness of the evening, you almost forgot that this is, essentially, two events wrapped up in one. Starfall, and Fin’s lavish ball. Perhaps seeing those stars will bring you some semblance of peace — make you feel less lost than you do right now, as they travel somewhere unbeknownst to you, and perhaps unbeknownst to themselves, also.
“Will you be joining us outside to watch them?” You ask.
A strange smile curves his lips. “Indeed I will. It’s a magnificent sight to behold.” He steps back, bowing to press a kiss to the backs of your fingers. And then he straightens up. Retreats.
“However,” he says, “I do believe the entertainment I’ve arranged for you may just outshine those stars this year.”
He saunters away, back to his dais. And as he lowers himself into his throne, he meets your gaze.
That same old thirst in them is unquenchable.
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
The males are treating the stardust like it’s the snow that so often coats your respective camps.
The first specks of it showering down on you were surprising, beautiful. But in true Illyrian fashion, what started as a cordial gathering to observe the soaring, luminous beings, has been reduced to little more than a drunken bust up.
You don’t know which camp launched the first clump of glimmering dust at another, but that was all it took for chaos to break out. The fray jostles you away from your friends until you can no longer feel Azriel pressed to your side or hear Cassian’s constant chattering. Try as you might to locate them, it’s impossible to see past giant, burly males with alarming wingspans. It’s a sea of dark hair and tan skin.
You push and push your way through, looking for a small exit through the gathered bodies. Your gown is trampled on, and you’re shoved this way and that, taking a few handfuls of stardust to your face and neck and arms. The feel of it is a cold contrast against your hot skin.
Just as you spot an opening to squeeze through, a male is careening into you and taking you down with him. It stuns you so much that you forget to brace yourself for impact. You’re about to tear your skin open against the sharp ground—
But huge, warm hands from behind catch you beneath your arms and keep you upright. Set you on your feet.
You turn, smacking straight into a broad expanse of chest. And a little higher up — long hair and wicked eyes. A taunting grin. Too-sharp teeth.
Tathaln Baralas seems to command the area around him so much that the fighting moves away from you both. A fact that makes him so incredibly smug.
“You’re welcome.” He sounds as rough and rugged as the mountain rock.
You clear your throat and incline your head in reluctant thanks. You’re not too keen on the idea of lingering for a chat with him.
But before you can so much as turn, his hand is fastening around your wrist. It’s not a tight grip, and yet it’s a warning — that it could become tighter if you tried to move.
“I’d like to go and find my friends—”
“I’ve been wracking my brain trying to work out why the High Lord is so taken by you.” He angles his head, and his eyes travel down, a smirk toying with his lips. “Besides a magnificent pair of tits, of course.”
Gritting your teeth, you attempt to rip your arm away. “You do him a disservice by thinking him so shallow—”
“Does Rhysand know you’re fucking his father?”
“You’re mistaken, my lord, and I’ll thank you to let go of me.”
“My daughter’s warning was clearly of no use. Perhaps I’ll be able to drive the message in harder. Whatever you’re planning—”
“There you are.” Out of seemingly nowhere, Rhysand’s voice saves the day. “I’ve been looking for you.”
The most minuscule, tiny beat passes — but Tathaln Baralas is no damn fool. With such blatant reluctance, he lets go of your wrist and takes a step back.
Rhys presses himself against your side, slinging an arm around your shoulders. He stares at Tathaln as he says, “My father wants everybody rounded up. It’s time for the entertainment he has planned.”
It’s a cloaked order, and you can see how much the Lord of Fenlaros wants to grit his teeth against it. But again — no damn fool.
“I’ll help gather everyone up.” He relents, and then he turns and pushes through fighting males as though they’re not there.
Rhys turns to you, concerned eyes taking you in. “Are you alright?”
“I will be.” You respond vaguely, linking your arm with his. “When this is all over, I will be.”
Little does he know, it’s not only the ball that you’re referring to.
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
Like petulant children, the bustling males don’t want to go back under the mountain for the remainder of the ball. They want to stay outside and frolic in the fallen stardust and maybe fight or fuck in it, too.
But somehow, Fin commands their return. And the silence with which they now all stare up at the dais has you wondering if there’s anybody he can’t get to obey him.
Roza, probably. The thought brings a smile to your face.
Gods, you’d love to be with Roza right now, Spending quiet, quality time together. Blocking out the world in its entirety. You’re glad, so heavily pregnant as she is, that she’s not here tonight — but still, you can’t help wishing she was—
A loud clap sounds through the room, jolting you from your thoughts. You force your eyes into focus once more, and though you’re buried a few rows back, Fin finds your gaze immediately. He smiles.
“I wanted to thank each and every one of you for coming here tonight.” He addresses the room. “I understand that Illyrians have a way of life that you like to keep loyal to, and that integrating with other camps is not normally a done thing. I appreciate you keeping your minds open and straying from your traditions to honour this event.”
The crowd stirs and murmurs, and every person packed within it must be wondering why Tathaln Baralas is the only camp lord up on that dais with the High Lord while the others all congregate on the floor, common as muck. They are not privy to the things that you are. You have a horrible feeling that that is all about to change.
“While there have been a few…hiccups, this evening, I have mostly been impressed by how well you were able to interact.” Fin goes on. “That is exactly what this little experiment was intended for. Because that’s what this ball was — an experiment. I address each and every Illyrian when I say this: change is coming.”
No.
Your stomach bottoms out. Hands turn clammy in an instant.
Surely…surely he hasn’t just ignored everything you’ve said. Surely this hasn’t all been for nothing.
“You may recognise the male behind me.” He’s not looking at you now. His eyes skim the room, but they don’t stray in your direction. “Tathaln Baralas — Lord of the Fenlaros camp.”
At that, a small burst of cheers breaks out from one section of the room. Fenlarions, you can only assume. You’re too panicked to care.
Tathaln takes a step forward, not quite in line with Fin, but almost. He seems to be fighting back a smirk. And as you feel another heavy set of eyes on you, you look to your left — to a few steps down, where Kaeda stands. She eyes you with what must be triumph in her eyes, and she doesn’t bother to hide her smirk.
This…this has all gone very, very wrong. You’ve fucked up — failed. Perhaps even doomed the lives of countless people. Fin may have poured sweet sentiments into your ear and boosted your confidence, but you so clearly weren’t enough. Weren’t enough to appeal yourself to him, and weren’t enough to save Illyria as you know it.
You’re not at all certain that you aren’t going to faint. Whatever is about to be said or done, you don’t want to be here for it. You want to gather up Azriel and Cassian and Rhys and get the fuck out of there, far away from this, from him. You look frantically around for them, but you’ve lost them again. Can’t even glimpse the backs of their heads.
“A short while ago, the Lord of Fenlaros came to me with a suggestion. A proposition.” Fin slides his hands into his pockets; a strangely arrogant gesture that tells you just how at ease he is. “But before I tell you all about that, I would like to speak to you about somebody else. Another one of your own who I have recently had the delight of spending my time with. Getting to know.”
It takes a delayed moment for you to realise he’s staring at you once more.
Staring firmly, unflinchingly at you.
He extends a hand in your direction, and everybody — every single fucking person around you — turns to get a look, also.
“Sweet Y/N,” He cocks his head. Smiles. “Would you join me up here, please?”
You falter on the spot, forgetting entirely how to move. Every pair of eyes…the attention…it’s all too much. Everyone is looking at you. Everyone can see you, your scars.
“Y/N.” Fin repeats. “This is for you, after all.”
Someone shoves you in the back, and snickers titter around you, the sounds swimming from one ear to the other. On shaking legs, you slip between bodies. Bodies with faces attached that won’t stop looking at you, staring at you, wondering why you, of all people, have caught the High Lord’s attention. A lowly Illyrian female without any wings.
Numb from head to toe, you climb up onto the dais. Fin takes your trembling hand. Pulls you to his side.
Only then do you find Azriel, Cassian and Rhys in the crowd. All staring up at you with alarmed, horrified expressions. They can sense something very terrible is about to go down, too.
“For all of you who haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her — this is Y/N.” Fin speaks loudly, clearly, his tone clipped. “She hails from the Windhaven camp. She is Illyrian in her own right. She has a brain wise beyond her twenty years, and a heart of solid gold. She cares for Illyrians — for all of you. Cares for your futures.” A very, very potent pause. His expression changes — darkens. He purses his lips. “But you all do not care for her, do you?”
Silence. Nobody knows where this is going. There’s a slight movement in the crowd, and out of the corner of your eye, you see your friends pushing closer to the front.
“You cannot claim to care about her — about your own females — when you are willing to do this.”
So quickly, Fin’s hands are gripping your arms, and he’s wrenching you around on the spot. Forcing your back to them. Forcing them to swallow down the sight of your ruined back.
But your scars poking through the sheer fabric is not enough for him, it would seem. Those hands of his, gentle at times and dangerous at others, skate over your shoulders. Stop at the top of your back, where you hate so profoundly to be touched.
And he rips the fabric open like he’s cleaving air.
The cold air hits your exposed back, and surprised murmurs ripple through the room. Each and every one of them will have seen clipped wings before — but not this. Not the brutal hacking you were subjected to.
On instinct, you’re fighting against Fin, trying to turn, trying to hide. He holds you steady.
“Her own father did this to her.” He announces. “As so many of you intend to do to your own daughters, no doubt. Look at her. Look at how she suffered, and believe me when I say, again, change is coming.”
“Father.” Rhysand’s voice reaches you from behind, severe, outraged. “Stop this.”
It surprises you that Fin immediately turns you back around. But you are under no illusion that he’s listened to his son’s plea. He simply isn’t finished.
There is not one part of you that isn’t shaking. You stare firmly at your feet, refusing to meet any of the gazes pinned on you. Some may be pitying. Most will be delighted.
“I understand that Y/N may not appreciate what I just did. And rightfully so.” With a theatrical wave of his hand, the rip at the back of your dress is mended. But the damage is already done. “She has a right to those feelings. A thing I believe you Illyrian males do not understand. That your females feel. That they can rightfully be hurt, and they can rightfully want to be avenged. Y/N?”
You know he’s addressing you, asking you to look at him. But you can’t move. You can’t…can’t stop shaking. Can’t stop feeling like you want to throw up.
“Y/N.” He repeats, softer this time. “Look at me please.”
You pause.
And then you do.
You turn, and you look at him with an expression that will never promise forgiveness.
To his credit, he studies your face. It’s like he’s searching for an answer as to whether his little stunt was irredeemable. His eyes swallow your expression, and a moment passes between you. One that doesn’t include everybody else in this room.
You imagine you look hateful. You imagine you are sneering, and clenching your jaw, and allowing him to see that you will not stand for such disrespect from anybody, including him.
And he…he looks upon you like he wants the rest of the room to disappear. Like he wants nothing more than to steal you into his arms and spirit you away, far away from this.
You take a small step back.
“I got you a gift.” He says, too quietly. Extends a hand again.
You feel yourself shaking your head. You cannot speak. But this does not deter him. He retracts his hand and murmurs to somebody — somebody you can’t see around the roaring in your head — “The box, please.”
As blurred movement stirs in front of you, you angle yourself towards the crowd — towards your friends. You search their terrified faces without seeing them, and you know that they are just as powerless as you are. Even Rhysand. That throwing themselves in the mix may just make the situation worse.
And you don’t even know what the situation is. All you know is that your heart is thudding and your ears are screaming. All you know is that you feel…betrayed…by Fin making a spectacle of you like this. That your body and mind are having such violent reactions because your vulnerabilities, insecurities, may just be the evening’s entertainment that you’re supposed to somehow enjoy—
“Y/N.”
Your eyes snap back to the High Lord, and a tear escapes the corner of it. You pretend it doesn’t exist, even if Fin’s gaze tracks it and softens.
“For you.” He holds a box out to you.
For a moment, you weigh up the likelihood that you could just dart off the stage and make a run for it. Find somewhere to hide and cry. But as your hands extend outwards without you telling them to, you know it’s no use. You’re seeing this through, however reluctantly.
Your trembles are violent as you take the box into your hands — and almost drop it. It’s heavier than you’re expecting. Fin smiles.
Every single person in that room watches you slide the lid off the box.
Every single person in that room watches you peer inside — and drop it. Stagger back.
“What the fuck is this?” You choke. “What have you done?!”
There are murmurs, people angling to get a look, as Fin casually strolls over to that box. As he reaches in.
As he lifts your father’s severed head by his hair and holds it up like it’s a fucking show and tell. And grins at it.
Steeled Illyrian warriors who have been bred for violence scatter back, curses and noises rolling off their tongues.
“Allow this to be a lesson to each and every one of you.” Fin speaks loudly, entirely unperturbed by the head dangling from his fingertips. “That while your camps are overseen by your camp lords, I am still your High Lord, and I am always watching, and listening, and waiting to act, if necessary. This male wronged somebody I care for. The only fitting punishment was this.”
Without a care, he drops your father’s head back into the box and kicks it away. You stumble back, back, toppling off the dais. Somebody catches you.
“I am your High Lord.” Fin repeats, seemingly unaware of the panic roiling in his audience. “I do not take kindly to being used or manipulated. I do not take kindly to somebody presuming to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do with my court. And Illyria is part of my court — no matter how much you try to distance yourselves. You are under my jurisdiction. What happens to you is my call to make.”
For a split second, you can only hear certain words; used, manipulated, presuming to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do. You think he’s addressing solely you, but he isn’t.
People are moving around you. Arms wrap around you. It takes a moment for you to register that it’s Azriel. That he’s tucking you between himself and Cassian and Rhys. They’re shielding you.
Fin is now pacing the dais, hands behind his back. “The Lord of Fenlaros spent months concocting –and perfecting — a self-serving scheme that he then presented to me, as though he has the authority to do so.” He stops, turning to Tathaln — a very pale Tathaln. “And while I agree there would be some benefits to what you proposed, your methods have pissed me off. And I don’t like being pissed off.”
Tathaln squares his massive shoulders. Steps forward. “I—”
“What gives you the right to delegate your daughter and sons to rival camps to do your bidding, without bringing your case to me first? I should have been your first port of call. I should have decided how this plan of yours should play out. Yet you schemed behind my back and tried to build power and gain favour in case I disagreed to your plan. So you could then build a cause against me.”
“My Lord, I assure you, that is not—”
“Yes — your Lord.” He reiterates.
And then quick as a flash, he’s drawing a sword.
Quick as a flash, it slices through the air and hacks Tathaln Baralas’s head clean off his neck.
It drops to the dais with a wet-sounding thwack. The rest of his body crumples to the floor.
You can’t breathe, or think, or hear. Can only stare at Tathaln’s open, glazed eyes, peering off into nothing. There are gasps and curses and panic. Hands claw at you. You can’t move.
And then a high-pitched, wailing scream rents the air, like nothing else you’ve ever heard. So loud, it snaps you out of your shock.
You turn, despite the hands that hold you firm and still. Through tear-blurred eyes, you glimpse Kaeda on her knees. Her beautiful face is screwed with despair. She stares at her father’s head, and she wails.
“Change is, indeed, upon us.” Fin says calmly, as though a river of blood is not pooling at his feet. “But it will be dealt by my hands, and my hands only.” He sheathes his blade once more. “This ball is over. You can all leave.”
Sliding his hands into his pockets, he strolls off the dais, tracking blood with each step. He disappears through a door without looking back.
And then chaos is erupting. Kaeda is still screaming. People are scrambling to book it out of there. You turn back to Tathaln’s head. Turn to your father’s, still in that box. You think you might be sick—
“Y/N.” Hands grasp your face tightly. Azriel is staring into your eyes, pleading with you to stare back. “We need to get out of here, okay? We’re getting out of here.”
You open your mouth, and a strangled noise escapes you. “I…I can’t…move.”
“You can. You can. Come.” His arms band around you. And though he holds you strong, you can feel that he’s shaken, too. “We’re leaving before the High Lord comes back. I’m getting you out of here. Hold onto me.”
You have no choice other than to comply. But your grip is as weak as you are. You can’t stop yourself fucking shaking.
You don’t hear the words that Azriel speaks to Cassian and Rhys. All you can hear is Kaeda’s screaming. All you can do is stare over Azriel’s shoulder at your father’s lifeless face. That face didn’t once look upon you with love in twenty years. Now, it certainly never will.
You keep on looking until Azriel spirits you both out of there, and the coppery tang of blood follows you all the way back to Windhaven.
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
“Please try to drink some of that.”
Azriel perches before you, his eyes fixed upon the steaming cup between your hands. You can’t remember how long ago he handed it to you, or how long ago you made it back to Roza’s cottage, or how long ago you watched Fin cleave Tathaln’s head from his body.
The fire is roaring, and more than one blanket is draped around you, but you can’t get any warmth to seep into your bones. You shiver from head to toe.
“It’ll warm you up.” Az reaches out, pressing a hand to your cheek. “I added a drop of whiskey to take the edge off.”
“I need more than a drop.” Cassian’s voice comes from behind the sofa, where he’s been pacing pretty much since he entered. “What the fuck was that? Your father is insane, Rhys.”
Rhys hasn’t breathed a word — that you’re aware of, anyway. Just sat in the armchair and stared into space. 
But his eyes shutter now, and he murmurs, “I know.”
“Absolutely insane.” Cass repeats. The pacing continues, up and down and up and down. “I didn’t realise you’d gotten so close to him, Y/N.”
As if you need reminding.
Fin had made it clear that in some fucked up way, everything he did tonight was for you. He’d slaughtered two people for you. You’d wanted to stop Tathaln, but not like that…never like that.
A tear rolls down your cheek, and you hear Azriel utter a quiet warning to Cass. Cass stops his pacing.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” He says, softer. “I just…didn’t realise there was so much going on while you were in Velaris.”
“I was trying to help.” You whisper. “I didn’t mean for…I didn’t mean—”
“None of what happened tonight was your fault.” Azriel moves to your side. He pulls you close against him, arms soothingly wrapping around you. “Don’t you dare start thinking that. The High Lord does what he wants.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. What if he’s coming for me next? I was scheming, too.”
Az growls quietly. “He can try. He won’t get close.”
“My father doesn’t want you dead.” Rhys rests his head back against the chair. He doesn’t open his eyes, and you’re wondering if he’s replaying the picture of bloodshed as much as you are. “If he did, he would have killed you there and then, alongside Kaeda’s father and…yours.”
Cassian spits on the ground. “And may your father never know a shred of peace.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, allowing yourself to slump fully against Az’s body, be supported by it. You’re not sure you can hold yourself up right now.
And it’s not that you disagree with Cass’s statement…you’re just not sure what to feel right now.
You hated your father. Despised him. But—
But that kill was supposed to be yours.
Fin had taken that from you in some fucked up display of…of affection, you supposed. Maybe even of ownership.
“He may not want me dead,” you whisper, “but I don’t think he’s finished with me. He’s surely not going to let me come back to Windhaven as if nothing happened. And what of Roza and the babe? Are they safe with him?”
Rhys gives a slow, meditative shake of his head. He’s exhausted. You’re all exhausted. The smell of blood clings to you. “I checked in with her. Despite what he did, they’re always safe with him. As for everything else…I don’t know what he intends.”
“Change is coming.” Finally, Cassian sits down. “That’s what he said. Over and over again.”
You don’t want change. Not the kind that Fin is probably thinking. You don’t want extravagance or luxury. You just want…this.
This little cottage. Your friends. Your love. Your simple, quiet life.
It feels like it hangs in the balance more than ever.
Eyes open, you’re staring at everything you may just lose. But the second you squeeze them shut, you see such thick, alarming red. Hear the thwack of Tathaln’s head falling. Hear the carnal scream that rips from Kaeda’s throat.
Your heartbeat picks up, and tears prick in your eyes — but Azriel’s arms tighten around you.
“Easy.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your head. “I’m right here. All three of us are.”
You know he can’t possibly be as calm as he’s making out. But he’s doing it for you — staying strong for you.
“You should try to sleep, my love.” He murmurs into your hair. “We all should.”
You focus on his warmth, his scent, but the tears keep coming. “I’m not sure I can.”
“Try.” He kisses you again. “For me.”
All you can manage is a relenting nod. And that’s all it takes for him to slide down and pull you with him. He holds you so tightly, as though he’s terrified of letting go. He bundles you against him, wraps a blanket around you both. It can’t be comfortable for him, his wings, but he lays there like it is.
A soft snoring from the armchair tells you that Rhys has already succumbed to exhaustion. You bunch your fingers in the front of Az’s shirt and force your eyes to close, even despite the horrors that await you behind them.
But after a while, you’re aware of the sound of Cassian traipsing to the kitchen. Reaching for the bottle of whiskey that sits mostly drained on the side.
And you realise that in Azriel’s arms, you’d started to drift off, too.
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
You wake with a gasping start.
It’s pitch black in the room, besides the dying embers of the fire. Their muted orange glow illuminates the space enough for you to glimpse Rhys, still fast asleep in the chair. Cassian is sprawled out and dozing on the floor.
Any one of you could have stowed away upstairs in the privacy of a bedroom, but…you need each other right now. Each other’s comfort.
You don’t know what the time is; the middle of the night, judging by how dark it is. But there’s a lot of noise and foot traffic that’s carried past the house. You assume it must be Illyrians who have attempted to drown the night’s events in alcohol and are now skulking home.
You try to block it all out. Roll over. But as arms tighten around you and pull you flush against a warm body, you glance up to find Azriel awake, already staring at you.
You stare back.
That’s all you do for a while. Just…stare. Drink each other in. He is so beautiful. So brilliant. Your friend, lover and so much more.
“Hi.” He eventually whispers.
You scan his face. Murmur back, “Hi.”
“You should be sleeping.”
“So should you.”
A small shake of his head. Strands of hair fall from where they were earlier slicked back. The grandeur of the ball seems like eons ago, now.
“I can’t.” He says. “I’m worried about you.”
It’s rare…for him to lay vulnerable thoughts and feelings out like that. You study him again. And you want to reassure him, tell him you’re doing okay — but you’re not. Not right now. And don’t you owe him honesty in return?
“I’m scared.” You admit. Keeping your voice hushed doesn’t stop it from cracking.
Azriel leans down, dropping his forehead against yours. His hand rests at the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles.
After a moment, he asks, “What went on in Velaris?”
You don’t know what to say. It was so easy, in the City of Starlight, to pretend to be someone else. Someone that Fin would desire and eventually trust. So easy to follow a plan unflinchingly.
But back in the frozen grips of Windhaven, you do not feel like that person. You do not know her.
“You said you were scheming.” Az presses. “What went on?”
“I told you…I was trying to convince Fin to reject Tathaln’s idea—”
“Convince him how?”
You swallow. Because you hate the truth. Back in the ordinariness of your Illyrian environment, your behaviour seems so, so bad.
“Did he touch you,” Az breathes.
“No.” You immediately shake your head. “I made him want me. I made him want me so badly that he would trust me and listen to me. I never wanted him to kill for me. And I never wanted him. Every single second I spent there, I just wanted to come back to you—”
His lips fold over yours, and he breathes deep and slow. You waste no time in kissing him back. That kiss is truth, and it’s love.
“Only you, Az.” You whisper as you pull away. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”
But he’s not done with you. His mouth is on yours again, and he promises into it, “I’ve only ever wanted you, too.”
Not merely wanted, but needed. And you need each other now. It doesn’t matter at all that you’re not alone in the room — that Cass and Rhys are sleeping mere footsteps away.
Your hands are on each other, grasping at each other, and your bodies come together. It’s unhurried and quiet. Azriel’s eyes don’t leave yours once, from the second he slides into you and you both gasp onto each other’s mouths.
Every slow thrust is one of love. Every one of them is a promise.
“Whatever happens,” he pants quietly, pleasure straining his voice, “whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”
“Together.” You vow. A tear escapes the corner of your eye, and Azriel leans in to kiss it away.
He holds you as both your climax and his build together. He holds you as you bury into his shoulder to stop you from crying out. He holds you as you clench around his cock and he spills every last drop into you.
And he holds you as you catch your breaths and press your foreheads together, exhaustion beckoning you once more. He’s held you through so much, and he’ll continue to do so to whatever end.
Only when your eyelids are threatening to close does he brush his mouth against yours once more. And he says again, “We’ll face it together.”
There’s a stirring behind you. Cassian rolls over. Croaks out, “Can you quit fucking?”
And then he snores and he’s back to sleep, the fire warming his wings.
You and Az stare at each other and pause. And despite it all — everything that’s happened tonight — you both break into laughter. It vibrates through his chest and into you, the feeling pleasant, reassuring.
He kisses your forehead, a smile still ghosting his lips.
It stays there as he drifts to sleep.
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
“What the fuck is that?”
Your groggy eyes wrench open and squint at the weak daylight that filters through the cottage. Both Rhys and Cass have bolted upright. Az, too, is jerked awake.
A thumping lands on the front door, urgent, panicked. Anxiety floods your gut.
“I’m coming, fucking hell.” Rhysand clambers to his feet. He’s dishevelled and uncoordinated as he clambers to the door and rips it open.
“Rhys,” Zakai pants from the other side. “What the fuck is your father playing at?”
“What—”
It’s then that the sound hits you all. The sound of authoritative voices calling out. Of people shouting — arguing — back.
Rhys follows Zakai out of the door. You, Azriel and Cassian share a glance before the three of you are also following.
And what you find outside is…chaos.
The sight of Illyrians fighting is nothing new, but males are being ripped from their houses. Children and wives watch, tears staining their cheeks. Paper and clothes and belongings litter the ground as if they’ve been stolen and discarded. The sky is shadowed by the temporary night of soaring Illyrians
Your wide eyes swivel to a roof a few cottages down — where a male stands upon its tiles, his voice bellowing out. He’s leather-clad and puffed up by his own importance — one of Devlon’s cronies, you think.
He seems unperturbed by the pushback on the ground — the gathering, angered males, as he addresses anyone and everyone around him.
“If I call your name, you’re coming with me! You pack the bare necessities — we leave for Steelshore in thirty minutes!” He announces. “Rahu Sepheron, Venia Char, Falkon Galos, Telarion Krin—”
“He’s lost his damn mind.” Rhys grits his teeth, shaking his head.
“He’s actually doing it.” Ice shoots through your veins, nothing to do with the brisk spring morning. “The High Lord is actually splitting everyone up.”
“Zakai Athalar—”
“Fuck this.” Rhys grabs Zakai’s hand, turning to you, Az, Cassian. “Everyone get back inside. None of us are doing anything or going anywhere until I’ve spoken to my father.”
You don’t hesitate to turn on your feet and pull Azriel with you. You want nothing more than to hole yourself up inside the cottage and pretend that none of this is happening. That anxiety and panic isn’t turning your stomach—
But the second you step foot inside, you’re halting in the doorway so suddenly that Cassian smacks into you from behind.
Fin sits at the table, cleaning his nails with a dagger.
He drinks in the sight of you greedily. Glances down at yours and Azriel’s joined hands. Smiles.
“Do you want to tell me what the fuck you’re playing at?” Rhys pushes past you, storming over. “What the hell is all this?”
“This?” Fin sits back. “This, Rhysand, is the reality of war.”
His son grits his teeth. Clenches his fists. “What.”
“War is upon us. Days, weeks, months away. People will have to fight and people will have to die. It is my duty as High Lord to take necessary action to ensure we come out victorious. If I have to sever some relationships for that outcome, then so be it.”
Cassian barrels forward, nothing but anger given flesh. “And what is this supposed necessary action? Tearing families apart?”
Even he, with his quick temper and loose tongue, would never normally address the High Lord in such a way. But Cassian cares. He’s passionate about what’s right.
And what Fin is doing is not right.
But Fin vaguely smiles and picks an invisible piece of dirt from his jacket. “If need be, Cassian, yes.” He says. “I’m delegating Illyrians where they will serve me best in this war. That includes your cosy little unit here.”
“If we are truly at war,” Azriel says quietly, dangerously, “now is not the time to play games.”
“Who’s playing games, shadowsinger?” Fin shrugs. “Not me.”
You don’t think it’s accidental, the way the High Lord’s eyes slide to you in that moment. You look away, refuse to hold his gaze. You could swear he chuckles quietly as he stands up and tucks his chair in.
“So here’s how it’s going to be.” He rests his forearms atop of the chair. “Rhysand — you will be commanding a legion in Camp Theriel.” He glances — barely — at Zakai. “I do believe your lover has already received a summons to leave for Camp Steelshore, so he should probably run along, lest he gets left behind.”
“Father—”
“Cassian.” He interrupts. “You will remain here, in Windhaven — as a common foot soldier in this war.”
“A foot soldier?” Cass spits. “That’s beneath my rank and you know it. You’re only doing this because you’re threatened by Az, Rhys and I being together. How powerful we are. Everyone knows that.”
Fin simply tsks. “Watch yourself, foot soldier. You don’t want to slip further down the ranks, now, do you—”
“Fin.” Finally, you find your voice. You step forward, despite Azriel trying to yank you back. You stare pleadingly at the High Lord.
He turns to you. His eyes sweep your face. His expression seems to go somewhat…quiet.
You had begun to respect this male in some roundabout way. You don’t think you’d ever have fully trusted him, but…there was an understanding, for a time. An allegiance of sorts.
You’d seen a side to him that so few did. And though it’s nowhere to be seen now…you have to believe that it’s still under there somewhere. You have to.
“Please don’t do this.” You whisper, your eyes filling with tears. “Please. This is our home. Our family.”
At the first sight of a tear rolling down your face, Fin swallows — hard. He clenches his fists at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to reach out and wipe it away.
It seems like so, so long that he stares at you. So long that he seems to be fighting something internally.
So long that a small glimmer of hope ignites in you that perhaps he cares enough to listen.
But then his eyes are shuttering, and he’s looking away. He says, stiffly, “We all have to make sacrifices in war.”
“Fin—”
“Rhysand will go to Camp Theriel. Cassian will stay here.” His eyes open again. He looks from you, to Azriel, back to you. “You and the shadowsinger are coming to Velaris with me.”
“What?!”
“You’d better say your goodbyes.” He squares his shoulders, not looking at you at all, now. “It’ll be a very, very long time before you all see each other again. If you see each other again.”
You open your mouth — to say what, you don’t know.
But Fin disappears before your eyes, leaving you — your family — alone.
What sounds far, far away is Cassian’s outraged ranting. Rhysand cursing his father. Zakai trying to talk to him, calm him down.
You and Azriel are the only two who don’t say a thing. Just stand there in silence.
Because you know you can curse all you like. You can shout and throw things and damn Fin to a miserable existence. It may bring you some temporary reprieve.
But it will not change a thing.
Fin is your High Lord. His mind is made up. This is just the next round in his game.
Your family is being cleaved apart. You stand in that cottage where you all slept in each other’s company — not realising it might be the last time, ever.
Your head roars and your tears keep on coming. But you can do nothing but stare at Azriel. He stares at you, too.
You and the shadowsinger are coming to Velaris with me.
It makes you sick to your stomach. Probably makes Azriel sick to his stomach, also.
But your locked, silent, crestfallen gazes communicate one sacred promise to each other.
Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.
Tumblr media
Authors note: Oooooof how are we all feeling? Good? Bad? Sad? Mad? Tempted to commit arson?
I just wanted to say thank you so much for coming on this journey with me. What started out as a fun little smut piece turned into a whole story I didn’t even know I had in me, but I’ve enjoyed every bit of it — especially hearing from all of you. Your likes, reblogs, comments and asks have meant the world to me through this. Thank you so much for the wonderful responses 🫶🏻
For anyone who didn’t see my answer to an ask regarding this last part — I understand it might not be the ending everyone wanted or expected, but I felt there was still so much potential in the story that I wanted to leave it open to — perhaps — write a sequel at some point. I have so many ideas, and I’m totally willing to talk about it and answer any questions about it you have any!
Thank you, again, for all the support, darlings. And I truly hope you enjoyed Practice On Me. 💕
pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-a-girlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl
915 notes · View notes
bonny-kookoo · 2 months
Text
Jungkook
Green| Part 01
Tumblr media
A good idea not thought through.
Tags/Warnings: Rabbit hybrid!Jungkook, Fox hybrid!Reader, Single Dad!AU, strangers to lovers, Fluff, romance, angst, suggestive, mentioned smut but sfw
Length: 3.7k Words
-> Masterlist
♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥
When Jimin had set this whole date up, Jungkook had expected.. Nothing, really.  
As far as he knows, he’s supposed to meet you at the restaurant right here, and you supposedly know exactly which table he sits at- but what he did not expect, was for you to be so.. Pretty.  
You’re clearly a fox hybrid, distinctive hybrid features standing out, very much well taken care of. The second you sit down, he notices even the shape of your pupils being the same as a common fox’s, though they don’t make him feel intimidated at all. Not as they should, at least.  
Jungkook remembers the teasing jokes back in school, or the struggle to earn his spot even later in life as a prey hybrid. Many people still believe that he’s not a good fit for a leading position in his company as a rabbit, unable to apparently make important decisions with a realistic view on things or not mentally strong enough to withstand the stress of responsibility. But he’s not just a meek little bunny.  
And from the looks of it, you’re not a dangerous predator either.  
“Well, Jimin wasn’t lying when he told me you were.. Cute.” You say, and Jungkook takes in a deep breath- and you take it as a bad sign, instantly going back on your words. “Not as in, not-to-be-taken-seriously-cute, but like- uh.. Your ears just look.. Pretty?” You tell him, and at that, his eyes move to look at you from the rim of his wineglass, one of his mentioned black rabbit ears slowly standing up.  
Silver piercings are decorating it. It’s an uncommon sight- but you decide it fits him.  
“...thanks.” He nods, before he licks his lips, and averts his eyes. “I apologize, It’s been.. A while since I’ve been on a date.” He shamefully admits, but you wave him off.  
“It’s not a problem.” You deny. “I don’t go on dates often either.” 
“How come?” He wonders, seeing an opportunity to spark some smalltalk, so he can find out a little more about you.  
“Just.. Not the time. And no partner to go on one with.” You giggle, thanking the waitress for your glass of wine. “I’m usually pretty busy with work.”  
“Work?” He asks, and you nod, your pretty fox ears suddenly standing tall with pride, tail swinging behind you. It’s pretty cute, in his humble opinion.  
“I’m an author!” You beam happily. “I write children’s books, and fantasy novels.” You explain, and Jungkook’s thoughts instantly go back to his daughter, currently in the care of Jimin at his house. Did you write a book she’s seen before?  
“Children’s books?” He wonders, feeling a bit stupid for just asking you, and never giving you anything in return.  
“Yep.” You chirp. “Mostly.. Very simple one’s. Ages 4 to 7.” You explain. “And you? What do you do for a living if I may ask?” You wonder, resting your chin on your hands.  
“I’m.. The vice president of HLC at the moment. Hopefully I might get a promotion at some point.” He chuckles, and your eyes widen.  
“Wow.. That's. Okay, that’s huge.” You laugh a bit uneasy now.  
“Does that make you uncomfortable?” He wonders, a bit confused. Both of his ears are up now, his body becoming more and more comfortable with your presence.  
“A little?” You admit. You’re honest, it seems like. He already decides it’s a very positive point. “I feel a little.. Out of your league, so to say.” You say a bit jokingly, taking a sip from your wine. He shakes his head.  
“Don't worry about it.” He denies, reassuring you. “We both have our places in life.”  
“So it seems.” You nod, while you wait for your dinner to be served.  
♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥ 
A place Jungkook had not seen you in his life, was beneath him, in his bed.  
But that’s exactly where you’ve ended up, most of your clothes already having been stripped from your bodies, lying somewhere in the bedroom. He honestly blamed his attraction to you on his hormones at first, and the fact that he’d neglected his natural need for physical intimacy for so long due to his single-father situation, but in this moment, he knows that it’s more than just that.  
And that just screams trouble.  
But right now, Jungkook can’t make himself think of anything other than you beneath his hands, skin warm as you push your bare behind right into him. He’d technically wanted to drive you home, a simple act of chivalry since your date had honestly been very nice, but somehow, you ended up agreeing to at least let the night come to an end in a more relaxed atmosphere at his apartment, since you told him that you’ve always dreamed to live in a apartment high up with a view of the city skyline.  
He really just wanted to show you the view. He really doesn’t know when you both started to make out.  
But he knows that it’s something you both clearly want- your hands holding onto his bedsheets almost impatiently, while he’s busy wrapping the condom over his length. If the situation was just a little different, Jungkook could see you both getting along a lot longer than for just this- but he’s got responsibilities, and he can’t just bring someone into his life without thinking about it long enough.  
And also, with his daughter still at such a vulnerable age, there’s just no way she’d accept you. 
Initially, he’d keep it at this. You’re in perfect breeding position, face in the pillows, behind pushed into him- but he has to see you. It’s not some magical connection type of thing, just simple attraction, and maybe, just maybe, his inner need to at least pretend for a moment that he’s just a young guy being together with his girlfriend- even though that’s never going to be the truth.  
Just for a moment, he wants to pretend.  
Just for one night.  
On your end, this is just an adventure you’ve never been on before. Jimin had told you to come out of your shell a little, be a bit wild for once, and meet his best friend who’s got a ‘just as dry’ intimate life as you did. And you can’t deny that this friend- Jungkook- is anything but charming, and attractive. Despite being a prey hybrid, he’s oozing a certain sense of confidence that’s not overbearing, but simply comfortable to be around.  
But all good things must come to an end- and to spare the poor young man the awkwardness, you get up in the middle of the night- early morning, barely three AM.  
Putting on your clothes, and somewhat fixing your hair, you carefully make sure to write a small note to leave on his kitchen table. Your face is already bare, since you both did shower yesterday before going to bed- so you don’t have to worry about that.  
Maybe he’d like to meet you again? Well, you surely left your number on the note for him to reach out to, if he so decides to do so.  
However, just as you try and walk out, you notice something.. Odd.  
A small, childrens-size pale green wintercoat, hanging on the wall next to the entrance. Tiny shoes, green, frog-themed rain boots, and an equally themed little umbrella hanging on the wall as well, next to what you assume must be Jungkook’s clothes. These things clearly belong to a child- and now that you pay more attention to it, you do smell the uniquely scent profile of a kid in the apartment.  
And the scents are too alike to deny that it must be his.  
Panic starts to bubble up inside you. If he has a child, there must be a mother to it as well, right? Maybe not, but the chance is too high for you to really take any chances. Jimin didn’t mention that at all- if he’d told you that this rabbit wanted to cheat and not just ‘go on a date’, you would’ve never agreed to it!  
Did you just become a homewrecker?  
You’re taking a step to take your note with you again, but you instead hear Jungkook move around in his bedroom, sleepily calling out your name- and that makes your instincts go haywire, as you instead basically rip the door open after somewhat slipping into your heels, and fetching your small handbag from the floor near the way too cute rainboots staring at you oh-so innocently.  
The door snaps shut behind you, and you don’t look back as you rush down and into the elevator, leaving the fancy apartment building and this whole mistake behind. 
Already fuming as you call Jimin, uncaring about the time. 
♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥ 
“I’m so sorry!” Jimin apologizes to Jungkook, who just sighs as he washes Minji’s plastic dishes in the sink, while the little girl is occupied on the couch, watching her favorite show before bed. “I didn’t think you both would end up here though-” 
“It doesn’t matter anyways.” The young father denies, putting every piece of cutlery on the side to dry later. “It’s not like it would’ve worked out anyways. I just wish she knew that this was just a huge misunderstanding.” He clarifies, turning off the faucet before he grabs a towel to dry the dishes.  
“I tried explaining it to her, really.” Jimin whines, feeling incredibly guilty for screwing this up so badly for his friend. “But she doesn’t believe me at all.” He sighs, sitting down.  
“Like I said, it’s not like it would’ve worked out.” Jungkook shakes his head. “Minji already got nervous when Taehyung dropped her off this morning already just because her scent lingered.” 
“But.. Isn't there, like, any way of getting her used to it?” Jimin wonders. “Like, I swear I’ve seen predator-prey couples with a prey child, and they looked fine to me.”  
“Rare.” Jungkook just shrugs, putting the plastic cutlery and dishes away in their respective places. “It’s really fine. I just hope she doesn’t feel guilty about things, or believes that she was just some sort of.. Body for me to use.” He says, ears low against his head, simply flopping down. It’s obvious that Jungkook is upset about it all. Because from what Jimin had told him, you’d felt horrible, believing that you were some part in him cheating on the mother of his child- unaware that she’s not even in the picture, and hasn’t been for years.  
“I’m gonna try and convince her one way or another.” Jimin sighs. “Really, this is so fucked up. The main reason I tried setting you both up WAS Minji!” He whines to himself, thanking Jungkook for the glass of water he offers him, before the young father sits down across from him at the kitchen table. 
“What do you mean?” He wonders.  
“She loves kids!” The human reveals. “She really does, but she herself can’t have any. Which I think might be why she feels so strongly in this situation.” He explains, making Jungkook sigh.  
Well, that just makes him feel so much worse.  
“There’s got to be a way to make this right somehow.” Jimin complains to himself, while looking over at Minji, who’s busy watching the TV with her favourite plush toy in her lap keeping her company. “I’m really sorry. I thought.. I don’t know. I forgot that because you’re two different hybrids, you might not get along too well..” He says, but Jungkook shakes his head.  
“I.. We got along very well, actually. I really liked her. Or rather, still like her.” He chuckles a bit bitterly to himself. “But I guess finding a partner is out of the question for me, at least until Minnie is a bit older.”  
“A bit older? Jungkook, you said she probably will stay scared of predator hybrids until she’s what? Twelve?” His human friend reminds him.  
“...generally, yeah.” He shrugs.  
“Jungkook, no. That can’t.. I refuse to accept that.” He shakes his head. “I’ll explain it all to her, I promise, and you’ll try and make this work with Minji when the time comes. Please.” Jimin says. “I don’t want to see you so lonely all the time.” 
“I’m not lonely- I have Minji.” Jungkook refuses.  
“You know what I mean.” Jimin presses.  
“...alright.” Jungkook sighs. “If- IF- you somehow work it out with her, and she wants to.. Talk, give her my number. And not the office phone, please.” He runs a hand over his face, before he gets up with his friend to bring him to the door. “But don’t pressure her. If she doesn’t want to see me again, that’s fine too.”  
“I won’t.” Jimin promises. “Promise.” 
♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥ 
You’re sitting in front of Jungkook again, in a public cafe, a hot cup of milky coffee in front of you, while he seems equally as nervous with his own iced americano in his hands, fingers tracing the pearling condensation a little.  
“So.” You start, looking at him, nervously licking your lips.  
“So.” He nods. “I have a child.”  
“So I’ve noticed.” You answer him, legs swinging a bit back and forth, due to the chair being a bit too high for you. 
“Her mother.. Left, pretty much a few weeks after she was born.” He explains in a neutral tone, staring down at his beverage. “No one really has an answer why. But she just.. It was as if she was disgusted with her own child, pretty much right after birth.” Jungkook recites the events. “Didn’t want to hold her, got angry when she cried, refused to take care of her. We thought it might just.. Be postpartum depression?” He leans his head to the side a little. “It happens more than one might think, after all. But it never got any better.” He shakes his head. “So.. We decided to split up, and I took care of Minji by myself.” 
“Did she ever.. Maybe reach out?” You wonder, but Jungkook shakes his head.  
“She re-married again. Lives in Italy now, with her new husband and stepchildren.” He chuckles a bit. “I’m happy she’s happy, you know? Just wish it went a little different.” He honestly reveals.  
“How old is Minji?” You wonder, dreading the answer. Because from both the scent and the size of the clothes and shoes in his home, she must be young. 
“She’s three and a half.” He reveals, and both of you become quiet.  
Oh. 
Well, it was nice while it lasted. With his daughter this young, there’s just no way you could ever move forward with your friendship even- considering you’re still a predator hybrid at the end of the day, something that surely will scare the poor little bunny half to death. Why do you always have to get crushes on the worst possible people? 
“Well, I’m sure.. She’s very lucky to have you as a dad.” You nod to yourself, swallowing hard. “And you’ll soon find a proper partner as well. You’re very likable after all.” You praise, praying that he can’t see the way your eyes begin to water.  
“I’m sorry.” He answers, and his voice sounds just as dissappointed as he feels. “I.. Wish we would’ve met under different circumstances.” 
“Then you wouldn’t have Minji.” You deny, spotting two drops of your tears having fallen onto the table. “Sorry, I’m a crybaby...” You say, fetching a tissue from your handbag.  
“We could still try-” He starts, but you shake your head.  
“No, she’s gonna be terrified of me, I don’t wanna scare her.” You refuse, drying your cheeks with a good amount of embarrassment, large fox ears pinned back in shame of it all.  
“Minji is a lot braver than one might think.” Jungkook chuckles, reaching out to help you wipe off your slightly smudged mascara from beneath your eyes. “She just.. She might just be a bit shy. Or very shy, most likely.” He adds, and you giggle a bit.  
“Jungkook.. I’m sorry I’m me.” You say, but he shakes his head, smiling at you.  
“Don’t ever apologize for something like that.”  
♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥ 
You decide to meet up again at Jimin’s birthday party- the human having invited you both, and Minji as well for the dinner he’d organized at his favourite restaurant in town. You’ll have the whole venue for yourselves to make it both easier for the staff, and everyone attending.  
Jungkook is nervous in his seat, Minji next to him in her seat, happily coloring in her little book that he brought with him to keep her occupied, different shades of green crayons all over her spot at the table.  
It’s then that the door to the restaurant opens, and you step in, together with Min Yoongi- a coworker and fellow predator hybrid whom you’ve befriended a few years ago, or so Jimin said. The big cat hybrid is apparently a tiger- though his ears and tail aren’t even slightly orange, instead monochrome white and black, his light eyes proving the fact that he’s not a standard.  
But, Jungkook can’t look at him for too long, because he’s too busy blatantly staring at you instead, with your pretty face, dressed up for the occasion. So much so, that Minji has to pull on his sleeve to get his attention back, looking at him before she tilts her head, small bunny ears in between her hair moving on a constant, since so much is going on.  
This will be it. If she gets too scared, he’ll have to go home early- and basically bury his hope of ever building something with you.  
But even though she does seem nervous, she’s not yet scared- instead clinging to her father by instinct, who’s calm, mostly that is. “Come, let’s say hi to everyone, yeah?” He offers her, and she reluctantly gets up with him, clinging to his hand while they both walk towards Yoongi and you, who’s just hanging up your coat.  
“Long time no see.” Jungkook offers Yoongi, who nods and shakes his hand politely, before he leans down to make himself as small as he can, in hopes of maybe getting at least something out of the little girl- but she instead steps behind Jungkook, the predator hybrid too intimidating. “I’m sorry.” 
“Oh don’t be. She grew quite a lot in a year.” Yoongi dismisses, while you reluctantly walk closer, politely moving to shake Jungkook’s hand as well- but the rabbit hybrid instead moves to give you a hug, despite his daughter being so close. And much to your surprise, this action alone seems to spark Minji’s interest- her head poking around Jungkook’s legs, just to look at you curiously, especially your fluffy tail that’s nervously swaying from side to side behind you.  
“Say hello, Minji.” Jungkook urges her, but as if snapped out from her trance, she shakes her head, instead running back to her seat at the table where she picks up her crayons once more.  
“She’s cute.” You say, earning Jungkook’s attention back. “Looks.. A lot like you.” You mention, and he nods.  
“I know. A lot of people tell me she’s like.. A mini-version of me.” He chuckles, walking towards his own spot next to his daughter. “Do you.. Want to sit next to me?” He wonders, and you nod, accepting happily. Sitting next to him will get Minji used to your scent, while also putting a safety barrier between her and him, so she can figure you out from afar.  
Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea.  
Something you’re very much surprised about, is that throughout the entire evening, the little hybrid girl does not seem to complain whatsoever. Not once does she get fidgety, or whiny about sitting in one spot for too long- and once she does, Jungkook is quick and skilled in handling her well, calming her down or occupying her attention for a moment.  
Though, at some point, she does get up and roam around a little, under the watchful eye of her father of course.  
You’re currently talking to Jungkook about your work, when you notice something on your tail, one slight look from you revealing that it’s the little girl, carefully running her small hands over the fur, interest too great to really let her inner fear control her. You know she’s on high alert- ears standing tall and completely turned towards you, motions freezing entirely when she notices that you’ve noticed her.  
Jungkook smiles at his daughter. “It’s pretty, hm?” He asks her, and nods, before she reaches out to have him pick her up and sit her on his lap, where she stares at you, now a lot more bold in the arms of her father. She’s visibly taking your entire appearance in, before she looks at Jungkook again, attempting to pull one of his jet-black rabbit ears, making him laugh and gently prevent her from doing so. “What do you want with dad’s ears, huh?” He jokingly scolds. “You’ve got your own, right there!” He reminds her, gently pulling her own equally dark ears, which makes her laugh.  
You can’t help but smile fondly at the interaction.  
That is until suddenly, the little girl boldly reaches out for your ears now- something that makes you both surprised and excited- your head leaning closer so she can clumsily grab at your ears, laughing most likely at how soft they are. It clearly makes Jungkook hopeful, his own tail wiggling around without his own knowledge as he watches the short but warm interaction with you two.  
It’s obvious that while Jungkook is around, she feels comfortable and safe enough to interact with you- but as soon as his attention is somewhere else, she becomes more withdrawn and suspicious again, which is natural. But the fact that she’s not panicking at least, is already a great sign.  
Maybe there’s a chance.  
Maybe this could really work.  
♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥ 
Tumblr media
796 notes · View notes
pathologicalreid · 7 days
Text
next of kin | S.R.
Tumblr media
disaster strikes and you and Spencer try to take custody of your younger sister
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: actually might be gn! but i'm too scared to say it is. death, orphan-ing, funerals, child custody issues, blood, general cm violence, like actually an abhorrent amount of death. sorry i killed your parents for the sake of my fanfiction can we still be friends? word count: 3.33k a/n: this is the fic that this post is about. i am in fact my own worst enemy. i hope y'all like it actually genuinely i am most definitely overthinking this. if your name is maya im sorry that sucks.
Tumblr media
“What did your parents say?” Spencer asked, walking into the conference room that the local precinct had offered to you.
You had been staring blankly at your phone since you got off the call with your mother, “Uh, they said thanks, but no thanks.”
The uneasy feeling had settled in your stomach as soon as you found out the team was being called to your hometown, and you had been nauseous ever since you found out the UnSub’s pattern.
Married couples with an older child who had moved out and a younger child who was still at home.
Your little sister was a surprise, you had incorrectly assumed your parents were done having kids.
Until today, you wouldn’t have traded Maya for the world, but now you sat in fear of your family being targeted by a serial killer. Hotch had offered them a protective detail, but they declined. Self-righteous as they were, they told you it wouldn’t feel right for them to accept help that couldn’t be offered to everyone.
Clenching your jaw, you stood at the table, “I’ll go by later and check in on them.”
Spencer had met your family twice by now. Last Christmas he had tagged along to meet them and celebrate with your family before the two of you spent New Year’s with his mom. Then, while your sister was on Spring Break, they flew out to Virginia, and you and Spencer had shown your family around Quantico and the District.
Maya had loved Spencer, partially because you loved him, but mostly because of his magic tricks.
“Do you want me to go with you?” He asked, stepping up next to you and placing a hand on the small of your back.
You sighed and shook your head, “No, not if you’re needed here.” You reached up and cupped his cheek, smiling softly, “Thank you for offering, Spence.”
He nodded affirmatively, “If you change your mind,” he offered. Gently, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before the two of you returned to the rest of the team.
The fact that your parents lived only five minutes from the police station gave you some relief, but you still felt tightly wound. Everyone had noticed. You just needed this case to be over.
The porch lights were on when you got there, and you used your house key – which you had never taken off of your keychain - to open the front door. “Hey, kiddo,” your dad greeted from the couch. A peek into the kitchen showed you that your mom was wiping down the counters. It all felt so eerily normal.
It was dark by the time you had gotten there. Maya was already asleep, but you tip-toed into her room anyway and kissed her goodnight before going back downstairs. Once you had hugged both of your parents and told them you loved them, you made your way back to the police precinct.
By nearly three in the morning, there was no new information, and the team was starting to consider calling it a night until the police chief got a call.
“We just got a call. Lady reported shouts coming from her neighbor’s house at 86 Meadowbrook,” he informed you, putting his hands on his hips and looking around at the team.
None of them even spared him a returning glance, everyone’s eyes were on you.
Blinking rapidly, you nodded assuredly, “I have to go get Maya.” You didn’t even recognize your voice even as you said it. It couldn’t have been your voice. That was the rasp of someone far away from you.
All of the other voices around you were muffled, you couldn’t hear what people were telling you, let alone understand them.
Maya. Maya. Maya.
Brown eyes. There they were, right in front of your face. “Let’s go get her,” Spencer whispered.
You had been speaking out loud. Repeating your sister’s name like a prayer without even realizing it.
Hotch let you go with them, but he made it abundantly clear to you – and the rest of the team – that you weren’t working this case anymore.
Surrounded by reverent voices in an SUV, JJ drove while Spencer stayed in the back with you. He held your hand tightly in his.
The house was closed off with police tape. Bright yellow plastic fluttered in the wind as you watched your team and other emergency personnel enter and exit. At your insistence, Spencer went in to get Maya, it felt like it had been hours before he walked out, carrying her in his arms.
Carefully, he brought her to you, and you pulled her close to your chest, blocking her eyesight as two body bags were brought out of the house.
You didn’t hear anything after that. You just let yourself be moved to wherever you needed to be, holding your kid sister as she cried for your parents.
They had to take their bodies to the hospital even though they were already gone, and you needed to be the one to confirm their identities. Spencer stayed with Maya while you were busy. She had cried herself to the point of exhaustion, you were grateful that she was sleeping, and then you felt cruel.
By sunrise, she was still asleep, and you had been set up in that same conference room from earlier. Sitting across from you was a social worker, a representative of the state. Your lips had parted in shock as you looked at her, “What do you mean they denied my request?”
In an attempt to be helpful, JJ worked with you to file an emergency request for custody of Maya, and the case worker had just told you that the request was denied. “The state doesn’t believe your request is valid,” she told you.
Your mouth went dry, “I don’t…” you glanced over at your little sister. “Our parents were murdered last night, and they won’t let me take custody of my sister?” You asked indignantly, peering at the social worker. It wasn’t her fault, somewhere in your grief-ridden brain you knew that, but you couldn’t help the feeling that she was somehow your enemy.
“They don’t believe you can provide her with a stable living environment,” the social worker, Brittany, explained.
Narrowing your eyes, you responded, “A stable living environment like a foster home? I’m her sister. We’re family – the only family each other has left.” You stood up, excusing yourself for a moment before walking out of the precinct. Once you were outside, you promptly hurled into the bushes.
That was how he found you, to the side of the building with your hair haphazardly moved out of your face, dry heaving into the shrubbery. Gently, Spencer placed a hand on your back before starting to rub small circles on your back, “You should eat something, love.”
You just shook your head in response, you weren’t hungry. “They won’t let me take her,” you whispered morosely, straightening up, you kept your back facing him.
“What?” He asked, his hand abruptly stopping its movement on your back.
Taking a deep breath and sitting on the curb, you looked up at Spencer. “The state thinks I’m not stable enough to take her in,” you said, resting your chin in your hands.
Your boyfriend crouched down so that he could sit next to you, “Are you going to challenge it?”
“Of course I am,” you cried. “But what happens to her in the interim, Spence? She gets placed with whatever foster home here and I go back to Virginia? I see her when the family court resolves this in two years?”
Treading carefully, Spencer cleared his throat, “What are you going to do?”
Defeated, you shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m…” your voice trailed off. “My parents are dead, Spencer,” you murmured softly, tears welling in your eyes.
He reached out and wrapped his arms around you, “I know, darling. I know. I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t think I can do this alone,” you whispered, leaning gently into him.
Spencer turned to kiss your temple, “It’s a good thing you’re not alone then. I’m not going anywhere.” He waited for a moment before continuing, “Give me something to do. Give me a job to take off of your shoulders.”
In the end, you let Spencer take over funeral planning. He thanked you for trusting him before the both of you went back into the precinct.
Tumblr media
You had just hung up with a family lawyer who had offered to take your case, letting your phone drop to the floor, you let your arms hang at your side. Someone had taken Maya to get breakfast while you spoke with the lawyer.
At the sound of the phone falling to the floor, Spencer stepped into the conference room, letting the door click shut before him. “Hey, what did he say?”
Pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you took in a deep breath, “Um, he said he’d be willing to take the case if I could put together a case plan to present before the judge.”
Before that phone call, you didn’t know what a case plan was, you could’ve gone your whole life without knowing what a case plan was.
“I need a year-long plan for how I’m going to prepare to have Maya in my custody, but he said a year is the best he can do,” you said, staring blankly at the wall ahead of you. “A year?” You whispered aimlessly, “I’m not waiting a fucking year to take custody of her. I have to take her home, Spence. I have to.” It wasn’t your intention to snipe at him, but you felt like you couldn’t help yourself.
The events of the last twelve hours threatened to take you down, but you had to stay strong for Maya.  
Taking a shaky breath, you looked up at Spencer, “Why is it that every time I convince myself that it’s going to be okay, I get tossed to the ground again?” You asked him.
Maybe because you weren’t fully convinced. Maybe it was because it had only been seven hours. You needed to remind yourself of that.
“She’s a ward of the state?” Spencer asked for clarification, holding you tightly.
Nodding absentmindedly, you rested your head on his shoulder as he swayed gently. “She can stay with me until after the funeral, and after that, she has to go with the social worker.”
The sad look on Spencer’s face told you that he was running out of ideas, and you were coming to the very same conclusion. “We could get married,” he offered.
“Stop, Spence,” you said, shaking your head. You couldn’t believe this was where he was going.
He shrugged helplessly, “I’m serious, Y/N. If we get married, they might think we’re stable, as a couple. They might give us custody.”
Your shoulders slumped, “I don’t want to get married just to get custody of my sister.” It certainly wasn’t that you didn’t want to marry Spencer, just not like this.
He nodded understandingly, “I know, but I’m just saying. If that’s what it takes, then I’ll do it.” Placing a comforting hand on your knee, the two of you sat in silence for a moment. “Do you have any ideas?” He asked you carefully.
Looking through the blinds of the conference room, you saw the rest of the team coming back to the precinct. Setting your jaw, you nodded, “I might.”
Opening the door, you had Maya go in with Spencer while you approached your Unit Chief. “Hey,” Hotch said, a glint of sympathy in his eyes. “How are you holding up?” He pulled you away from the people, wanting to give you privacy.
This wasn’t fair, they were still working on an active case. A case that was disturbingly close to you, and yet, you felt you were out of options. “I need a favor,” you blurted to him, wringing your hands. Your nervous energy made it impossible for you to stay still.
Hotch nodded, “What do you need?” He asked, studying your composure with the eye of a profiler.
You took a deep breath, “I was… I need you to call in a favor with someone. Anyone, really. The state won’t let me take custody of Maya, but I can’t let her become a ward of the state. Not when I’m right here, ready, willing, and able to take her.”
“Okay,” he responded, not even pausing to think about it.
Taken aback, you looked at him curiously, “I- that’s it? I had groveling prepared.”
He nodded almost imperceptibly as if he was trying to tell you it wasn’t necessary. “You’ve been a part of this team for years and not once have you ever asked for anything in return for everything you do for everyone else. This is the least I can do,” he told you.
You couldn’t help it. Overwhelmed, you tackled Hotch in a bear hug, “Thank you.” Your voice was low, “Thank you so much.”
Succinctly, Hotch hugged you back before you pulled away, “I’ll go make some calls.”
Tumblr media
It was the smell.
The smell that you’d sensed countless times before on the job, the metallic tang of the blood. It should’ve been mostly dried by now – you supposed you were more susceptible to the scent, considering it was your parent’s blood, but it put you on high alert.
Emily had brought you by so that you could pack a bag for Maya, but you found yourself stuck on the landing. To one side, there was your childhood bedroom and Maya’s room. On the other side, there was your parent’s room.
“Y/N?” Emily called your name from downstairs, “Are you alright?”
No, you wanted to say, but you bit your tongue, scanning the house you had grown up in. “This doesn’t belong here,” you told her, glancing behind you as she made her way up the staircase.
You didn’t have gloves, so instead you pointed at the figurine that was resting on the bookshelves, a little bear facing in the direction of your parent’s bedroom door. “This is in the wrong spot?”
Nodding, your eyes followed the ceramic bear as Emily picked it up with a gloved hand. “It’s mine, it should be in my room,” you informed her. Your parents never changed anything about your childhood bedroom, not since you moved out. “It was like it was watching them,” you thought aloud.
“Do you think the UnSub did it?” She asked you gently, her voice was low but steady.
Blinking rapidly, you kept your eyes focused on the figurine, “Little Bear,” you murmured, “They called her Little Bear.”
Emily shook her head in confusion, dark hair swaying as her head moved. “Who was called Little Bear?”
Dropping the bag you had packed to the floor, you buried your face in your hands, “I should’ve seen it sooner.” The victimology, it all suddenly made sense to you. “When I was a kid, there was a family like mine. A brother who was in his twenties when his parents had another baby, a girl. They called her Little Bear.”
Realization dawned on Emily’s dark features, “Like this bear?”
You picked up the bag and started making your way back down the stairs. “Their mother made those figurines. The parents died in a fire two weeks ago – they left everything to the younger sister. It was all over the news. God, I should’ve figured it out sooner.”
“Hey,” Emily said sympathetically, “You had other things going on. None of this was your fault.” Her voice was stern, harsher than you’d ever heard her, as she pulled out her phone and called the team.
Your teammate drove, passing the police station on the way to drop you off. They left for the takedown, and you felt yourself floating into the precinct. Maya was waiting in the conference room for you, watching cartoons on someone’s laptop.
Kneeling in front of your little sister, you tapped the space bar, pausing the video. “Hey, kiddo,” you whispered, reaching over, and smoothing her hair away from her face. “How are you feeling?”
She had cried herself to sleep earlier, and you felt like you hadn’t been around enough. Maya sat up on the couch and rubbed her eyes, they were red, but not teary. “I miss mommy,” she told you, pouting slightly.
You nodded gently, moving to sit next to her before you pulled her into your lap. At six years old, she was all gangly limbs, just starting to grow into her own person. Just old enough to understand death, “I know, baby. I miss them too.”
“They wouldn’t lemme go home,” she continued, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I wanted Thumper,” she whined, sounding younger than she was.
Looking up at the light, you silently begged for your tears to go away. “I got him for you,” you told her, reaching into your bag and producing the small stuffed bunny that you had given her as a baby.
You savored the way her eyes lit up as she grabbed the stuffed animal from you.
“So, you and Thumper are gonna come to stay with me in Virginia. Do you remember going there? You said you liked it?” You kept smoothing her hair back as she held her toy.
She was silent for a moment, “Will Spencer be there?” She asked quietly.
Smiling slightly, you nodded, “He and I live together, so he’ll be there with us.” Slowly, you started rocking back and forth, trying to soothe the both of you simultaneously.
“As long as he doesn’t pull money out of my ear,” she answered succinctly, shutting her eyes as she leaned up against you.
There was approximately an hour before you watched the team return to the precinct, slowly, you laid Maya down on the couch before walking out. “It was a clean shoot,” you heard Rossi tell Morgan, and one look at the rest of them told you everything you needed to know.
The team went back to the hotel, and Spencer filled you in on the funeral arrangements he had made on your behalf. You were about to try to get some sleep when Hotch approached you and told you he needed to speak to you.
“I called a good friend of mine on your behalf, and he gave me some information. We were able to work out a plan,” he told you, sitting across from you in the hotel lobby.
You were about to tell him that a case plan wouldn’t work, but he held his hand out, telling you to wait.
He nodded before he kept going, “He was able to file an emergency request to grant you temporary custody of Maya, and it was granted.”
You felt sick to your stomach, “She’s mine?”
“Temporarily, you’ll have to take care of some formalities back in Virginia, but you have full custody of her,” he informed you. “You’re being granted family leave, and I’ve encouraged Reid to apply for it as well,” Hotch told you, reaching out and placing a hand on your shoulder. “I am… I’m sorry that you’ve had to go through this but thank you for coming to me when you needed the help.”
You nodded absentmindedly, your head still whirling with the information that you had just been given. Stumbling, you walked back to your hotel room that you were sharing with Spencer and Maya.
The funeral was planned, the custody issue was solved, all there was left to do was…
“Baby?” Spencer said softly as you swung open the door, “Everyone else took Maya to get ice cream, I figured it couldn’t-“ his voice broke off at your first sob.
Everything you had held in came bursting out, all of the grief and stress and exhaustion nearly knocked your legs out from underneath you.
But Spencer was there to catch you.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
754 notes · View notes
charlottecutepie · 3 months
Text
₊˚⊹ᰔ Deal (Mathew Lillard!William Afton x fem!reader)
tags: public sex, m receiving, praise, riding, unprotected sex, threatening??
my notes: not really sure about this one, I might delete it later, idk yet :,) also eng isn’t my first language
Tumblr media
“Hello? Mr. "I can't work nights?” Steve's hoarse voice asks, a beaming smile on his face as he talks to his potential victim.
It's always that fucking phone with wires. He'll never get off it. Most, if not all, questions are resolved through this damn phone.
Every time you enter this office, you see Raglan chatting sweetly on the phone, talking about jobs, vacancies, answering customer questions. And then his dark eyes rest on you, briefly studying your face before settling on your body. It's unpleasant feeling, as if you're exposed in front of him like meat on a plate when he already has a fork and a knife in his hands. There Steve lets out a laugh, takes the phone away from his ear and whispers softly to you: "you know what to do, honey." Embarrassment merges with arousal, which you can’t calm down in any way.
It always happens, it has already become a little tradition that at first you hated and denied. You were sick of yourself. But what happened? What made you like it? You started asking for more, you started coming to this damn office yourself, staring at the floor, obediently waiting for the cherished words.
"Yes, it absolutely is. Why? Have you had a change of heart?" Raglan asks with undisguised interest, clarifying Mike's intentions. He didn't even expect him to call back. This is just pure luck, Mike himself fell into his hands, so it's even better.
Every day, the same office, the same time, the same desk, the same Steve Raglan.
You're praying that sloppy sounds of you taking Steve's cock in your mouth don't reach Mike on the other end of the line, you're already ashamed enough. You try to be careful not to get his pants and floor dirty, but Steve doesn't care. His hand rests on your hair, stroking you like a little pet, an obedient pet.
Of course, you'll be obedient. You have made a deal after all.
"Let me give you a little backstory." he lowers his gaze to take a good look at you and spreads his legs wider. His cock penetrates deeper, he presses on your head, which causes an unpleasant feeling of tickling in your throat. You look at him, fluttering your eyelashes quickly as a sign that you're short of air. Fingers dig into his pants, crumpling the fabric. Steve raises his eyebrows, faking surprise, oh, what a pity. He's too rude, and you're too gentle, how cute. "Breathe through your nose or you forgotten you have one?" Steve lowered his voice.
"Can you repeat it again? I didn't hear you." Schmidt clarifies on the phone. You stop moving your head, afraid that Mike will hear something.
Steve sighs and adjusts his glasses, looking away from you. He starts explaining something again and you almost calm down, but he jerks his hips, allowing his dick to fully penetrate your throat, which makes you moan softly.
"This place was huge in the 80s with the kids." he smirks. Fortunately, Mike cannot see the face of his career counselor right now, because it’s definitely distorted by sarcasm and mockery. "This place been shut down for years. The only reason they haven’t given it the old wrecking ball treatment is the owners a bit of a… well, he’s kind of a sentimental guy, I guess. Just can’t bring himself to let it go yet." he chuckles. "Yeah…"
Steve's cock throbs in your mouth as you try to inhale through your nose. It's too much, you're slowly suffocating as now the whole situation is controlled by Raglan's hand, which is holding you by the hair. It hurts so bad, but then why you feel the warmth between your legs?
"Had some trouble with break-ins over the years. Drunks and vagrants, mostly. Not ideal…" it's surprising the way he do it, so calmly talking to someone on the phone while roughly fucking your throat. Although at times his tone is interrupted by quiet sighs. "Security systems dated, but fully functional. Floodlights on the outside, cameras inside and outside. Fair warning: the electricity is a bit… iffy." he’s all shining with joy while telling Mike about the pizzeria.
When you pull on his pants, tears come to your eyes and your throat hurts unbearably, Steve removes his hand from your hair. You release his shaft from your mouth with a popping sound that sounds very loud in such silence. Raglan smiles, looking at you contentedly, your chin is covered with saliva, cum on your lips, youre so beautiful, sweet. You’re lucky he's in a good mood today.
"Anything happens, there is a breaker in the main office, just flip it." he continues, but now looking at you, which makes it feel like he’s having a conversation with you. You exhale, wrapping your hand around his cock, moving up and down, he slowly pumps into your fist. His hand caresses your cheek, finger runs over your lips, smearing his cum, and it makes you smile a little. There's nothing to smile about, though. But you can't hold back the slight feeling of euphoria from such a gentle Steve, feeling yourself… Special? His touch is tender and his gaze has softened, he smiles while you continue to work with your hand. "Uhm, I guess that’s about it. You know, the rest is pretty easy. Just keep your eyes on the monitors and keep people out. Piece of cake." you lean closer, tucking your hair behind ear and running your tongue over his leaking tip. "Fuck, baby." he exhales, slightly squeezing the receiver of the old phone.
"Mr. Raglan?" Mike's puzzled voice. Your heart skipped a beat, like Schmidt's, but not Steve’s. Mike frowned, holding the phone closer to his ear. Did he hear correctly or….? From the very beginning of the conversation, he suspected something was wrong. Yeah, Steve's really weird.
Your innocent lick on his cock brought man to an instant orgasm. He was already on the verge from face fucking you, but the feeling of your tongue on his sensitive tip brought him to the limit. Putting the phone away a little further, he covered his cock with his hand until the spurts of cum laid on your face. He let out a barely heard groan, his glasses fogged up.
"I said it’s a piece of cake." Steve repeats, clearly not interested in continuing dialogue with Mike. "So, I'll catch you on the flip side… hopefully." not waiting for an answer, he hangs up.
What a good day, what an easy prey, how fortunate.
He’s in such a wonderful mood, light idea of rewarding you appears in his head. Why not?
"Come here, baby," he points to his knees with his finger, and you get up like a zombie, immediately pressing your legs together because of the uncomfortable feeling of soaked panties. Of course you're wet, this isn't the first time you are. But this will be the first time your problem will be taken care of. "you've been such a good girl, why don't I return the favor?"
Steve spreads your legs and sits you on his knee, hands holding you in place when you try move. It's not that you don't like it, you're actually losing your mind, but you feel too awkward knowing that you're in a public place. And the fact that he can feel your throbbing pussy against his knee doesn’t make situation better.
"What would you like, honey? My tongue or fingers?" he looks up at you, moving you so that your wet underwear rubs against the fabric of his pants. Your clit is stimulated, but in the most painful and torturous way, causing shallow sighs. You put both hands on his shoulders and squeeze his shirt as you throw head back.
"Please…" you're almost crying. "please, your… oh…" one more move and you'll cum. "cock, your cock, Steve, please!"
"Hush," he squeezes your thigh. "you know our little rule, don't you? Or should i remind you?"
"William," you're correcting your mistake. "William." He grunts with satisfaction.
"That's it." Afton's hands wander over your body, caressing you in right places. "Tell me honestly, you’re going to scream?" at first you don't even understand what he's asking.
He kisses your neck, continuing to slowly bounce you up and down on his knee. Thanks to you, a dark wet spot already appeared on his pants. His beard tickles your skin and his tongue leaves a wet trail on it.
"Yeah," you come to your senses, finally understanding what he meant.
William breaks into a smile. Of course, you'll scream, not just scream, but break your voice and cry, he knows that. His cock is hardening again. Afton loosens his tie, leaving it hanging around his neck. He'll definitely find a good use for it, already did. He makes you get off his lap and you look down, blushing. God, you couldn't be that wet?.. It's humiliating, so embarrassing.
William pulls your panties down to your ankles, and you step over them, remaining only in a skirt and shirt. You don't know what to do. This is the first time something as it happens, you've never gone far than just a blowjob. He pulls off your skirt as well, causing it to fall along with your underwear. He pushes the clothes aside with his foot, then sits you on top of him again. William’s eyes don’t leave yours, his hand reaches down, you feel a finger at your wet entrance.
Your lips part to let out a loud moan and William steals it with a kiss. You can't make any noise. He pushes his hips up, pressing the head of his cock against your pussy. He mumbles something into your mouth, holds you tightly in one position, you’re unable to move. His tongue roughly explores your mouth. William feels your breath on him and smiles. Then his hands grope your butt and he pushes you down, slowly lowering you onto his cock.
He moans in unison with you, but quietly, working hours aren’t over yet. However, you can't hold back the loud whimpering, feeling full. It doesn't seem very pleasant at first. Afton closes his eyes, thrusting fully.
"Be quiet." another warning. "You're taking my cock so well," he praises. "don't try to pull away," his hands go up to your back. "you have no right to do that, you know that." a careful but extremely unnecessary reminder. At least, definitely not at the moment when you're having sex with him, you don't want to think about a deal. About consequences if you’ll break it.
Every touch gives you a pleasant tingling sensation and you start to enjoy it more with every second. You move on top of him, trying to find the right angle, pressing your chest against his. You don't want to look at his face, into his eyes, because even through the glasses you can see that he's devouring you with his eyes. It's embarrassing. But it gets worse when he runs his tongue over your nipple through your shirt, leaving a wet spot on your clothes. William lightly bites the sensitive skin, while squeezing your other nipple with his fingers, a hiss leaves your lips. It hurts, but it turns you on even more. His chest heaves, he tries to restrain himself from jerking his hips up and ruin your cunt the way you deserve. Your warm walls squeeze his cock too tightly as you tremble from too much attention to your nipples.
"Now move up and down," William points out. "and don't forget about hips."
He knows you've never tried this pose. Of course, he knows everything about you. He likes to be closer to his prey.
Your fingers on his shoulders tighten, you begin to move according to his words. You don't forget about your hips, as he demanded. And then something pleasant begins to spread through the body. An enveloping feeling that radiates to every nerve. His cock feels much different than it did a few minutes ago. Everything inside is burning and throbbing, your body needs more. You want to move faster, you can barely contain your moans. William puts his shoulder up, which is what you're using to shut yourself. You mumble, unable to make a sound, whine, but you continue to bounce on him.
"Good girl," his words break you. "such a tight pussy." your teeth are digging into him painfully, soaking the man's shirt with saliva.
Afton starts moving with you, now holding you tightly. It's like you're nothing more than a rag doll in his hands. Your body becomes so weak and sluggish, eyes roll back in bliss. His cock goes in and out of your pussy with an incredibly perverted sound that echoes throughout the office. Drops of sweat run down his forehead and down your back, but it feels like lava that burns to the bone.
"I-… I feel so good…" your speaking so slurred, because it's hard to talk with his clothes in your mouth, but you're so pleased that you can't control yourself. "William!"
You can't help but moan in surprise when he gets up from his chair, holding your ass, his cock still inside. It even hurts. William lays you on his desk, takes off his glasses and puts them next to a sign with his fake name on it. You dare to look at his face. He's just as horny as you are. Without glasses, he looks a little different, grey strands stuck to his sweaty forehead, hair slightly messy.
William puts his tie in your mouth, you almost choke. Afton leans down, brushes his lips against your collarbone, so sensually. In response, you wiggle your hips, trying to get him to move. William is grinning at you, at your pleading eyes. He begins to hammer in your pussy. You cry out as loud as you can, but fortunately, the tie shuts you up, leaving only indistinct "please." His hands squeeze your ass until it bruise as he thrusts into you.
William stretches you out just fine, thrusting into your cunt fast, which makes it seem like desk under you is about to break. You're afraid of accidentally hitting his glasses, you don't want unnecessary sounds. William is so damn tensed up, you realize that in all this time he has never broken eye contact with you. His cock reaches deeper when you just thought it was impossible and tears flow from your eyes. William smears two fingers with his saliva and lays them to your clit, your pussy clench around him. His fingers move sweetly and slowly, pressing on your bundle of nerves that it drives you crazy. Your legs are wobbly, blood is boiling.
"Do you want me to cum inside you, baby?" the question isnt scary at all, because your brain doesn't work. Your red, tear-stained face responds him. You just nod frantically, trying to say yes, but tie doesn't let. William smiles, runs the pad of his thumb over your clit. "Your cunt clenching around me like that, begging me to fill you up. Damn perfect."
He leans closer to your face. Poor thing, he wants to end your sweet torments, to give you what you crave. Clenching your tie between your teeth, you arch and cry, unconsciously moving your pelvis towards him. William's legs bend slightly as his thrusts become more chaotic. He keeps fucking into you, groaning softly. William wants to say so much dirty things to you, but he can't. He can't be loud, he can't be heard, no need to ruin his reputation. Let others continue to think that he's a good father, an amazing career counselor, an ideal person who helps others. And you… and you're just his little assistant, who brings coffee to his office. Let everyone think so.
Warm liquid filling you, and at first you don't even realize what it is as you cum. His fingers caress your clit with gentle circle movements while you try to bring your legs together, but eventually wrap them around him, only driving him deeper into yourself. William is unable to hold back heavy sighs, still continuing to thrust, until he sees that his cum is already flowing out of you down to the floor. Your tired eyes and his tie in your mouth, all covered with your saliva, cause him an evil smile. This day couldn't be better, today everything is going too well.
"You did so well, Y/n," he breathes with relief, running his fingers over your face and taking the tie out of your mouth. "you extended your little sister's life by one more day. By the way, tell her hi from mr. Raglan."
423 notes · View notes
peachsayshi · 6 months
Note
heyy idk if you're still doing ex husband nanami etc but here goes nothing!! maybe after the new year's party nanami finally meets the guy she went on a date with?? you're free to write anything on that ♥️
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ A Reason To Celebrate ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
Tumblr media
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ minors / ageless / blank blogs (dni) ↬・tags: ex husband nanami x reader; angst; mostly fluff; nanami has a son; angy nanami; kissing ↬・ wc: 6,740
↬ notes: I was supposed to post this in honor of kento's birthday, but better late than never! here is a highly requested update for you all x there is a bit of a time skip from the last part!
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
Nanami regrets agreeing to this divorce.
He knows that he shouldn’t have conceded to you so easily. He understands that he shouldn’t have turned his back on you when you confessed that you wanted out of this relationship. He hates that he allowed his pride to get in the way of your true feelings, and is ashamed for cowering into a corner when what he needed to do was fight even harder to keep you by his side. He’s sorry for the terrible words that he threw at you early on, when he placed the blame entirely on you for ruining what was so, so perfect.
When you said “I do” it was because you accepted him wholeheartedly, but he broke his a vow by not leaving his job as he intended the minute that pregnancy strip turned pink.
The trials and tribulations of a jujutsu sorcerer never ends, but nothing he’s ever experienced compares to how hollow he feels.
That’s why he’s been spending every hour dissecting the current status of your relationship. He’s struggling to figure out his balance now that he’s turned his entire world upside down.
All he wants to do is rekindle the flame of what he lost.
“Be honest with me…are you truly happy with how things are between us?”
Your eyes revealed the softest, most vulnerable parts of yourself when he posed that question. He saw how quickly you buried the weight of your emotion into his chest, could see that it was a desperate attempt to hide from confronting the truth.
Months have passed since that night.
Your relationship with your ex-husband is the best it’s ever been - the two of you have finally figured out how to construct your lives in these two separate parts.
You get to have him in doses, and he no longer burdens you with worry.
This arrangement has been working out swimmingly, but Nanami still can’t ignore the feeling that if you could just meet him halfway, then maybe there might actually be a chance for a real reconciliation.
Things took a turn last week when you surprised your ex-husband with a call while he was at work, asking him if he had the time to take Hiroki off your hands for the rest of the afternoon.
“I just need a little bit of time for myself,” you reluctantly blurted, the unusual statement sounding foreign on your lips.
Nanami’s concern wouldn’t stop him from prying. “Is everything alright? Are you feeling unwell?”
“Oh, yes, I’m fine!” you squeaked. “I just…uhm…I just really need the quiet today. I know this is very last minute, and of course I understand if you’re too busy-”
“I’m not busy at all,” he immediately interjected, his heart screaming that he would willingly jump at your every command if you asked. “I’ll just inform Gojo that I’m taking the day off. He won’t have any problems with it…”
Later that evening, while running a quick errand with his son, Nanami saw you stepping out of his favorite bakery.
His heart fluttered in his chest at the sight of you in your summer green dress, the heat already rushing to his cheeks as a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
He was already contemplating with an idea on how to swing you out of your alone time to indulge him for a quick bite to eat, but that blissful plan was rudely interrupted by a gentleman who followed your footsteps soon after.
Nanami blinked his brown eyes in disbelief, staring with his mouth slightly apart as you spoke to the man with a level of familiarity that made your ex-husband nauseous. He saw the stranger reach for the tip of your fingers to help assist you with one of the many, many shopping bags in your hands.
The radiant glow blooming from the deepest parts of his chest collapsed in on itself upon seeing your flustered expression from the contact.
Dread overcomes him when he recalls that the last time you had asked him to watch over Hiroki was when you decided to go out on that stupid date.
Nanami had allowed the center of his own feelings to distract him from the current state that his marriage is in. Just because he is willing and ready to reconcile, that didn’t necessarily mean that you felt the same way. He’s just been trying so hard to stop you from pushing him out, and after the recent events that transpired between you both, he actually thought he was making some kind of progress.
You didn’t even seem interested in the guy when you relayed to him how your date went. The little incident that happened at the Gojo’s New Years Eve party suggested that maybe your feelings for Nanami weren’t so far out of his reach. Nanami rarely ever remembers his drinking sessions with Shoko, but what remained perfectly etched in his brain was the question that he boldly asked you - the one that continued to haunt him as the weeks passed by, and which he prayed that he would eventually get an answer to.
Did he misread the signs?
He wondered if you thought his question was simply the ramblings of a disoriented drunk, even though it was the most honest he’s been about his feelings in a while.
The longer he stood there watching you with this other man, the more he could feel his heart shattering.
His logic contradicted his apprehension with a gentle reminder of the words that you shared with him - of how your intimate and close relationship with him will always mean something to you…
He hesitated approaching you both at first, but you are still his family after all and he wasn’t about to pretend like couldn’t visibly see what was playing out before him.
If you were, in fact, seeing somebody else…then the man had every right to know about it.
Anger and betrayal guided him towards you and he greeted you with a cold and polite, “hello”.
Despite his stoic expression, he was barely holding it together watching your eyes widen in a state of shock. He instantly knew that he was the last person you were expecting to run into.
“K-Ken!” you gasped, flickering your pretty irises between your ex-husband and the man beside you. “uh-what…what are you doing here?”
Nanami’s eyes never left yours; he’s studied every reaction out of you like they were written out as sacred texts. He memorized the tempos of your breath, counted the blinks, and interpreted the many ways in which your lips could speak without ever making a sound.
“I ran out of bread. So, I decided to take Hiroki for a little walk and pick some up,” he replied before shifting his sharp and scrutinizing gaze towards the man.
The gentleman seemed equally as taken aback by Nanami, and your ex-husband could see an uneasiness washing over him.
“Hello,” he firmly greeted, introducing himself without any consideration over the thick tension that suddenly manifested. “I don’t believe we’ve met…”
The man parted his lips to speak but you were quick to cut off his answer, your suspicious behavior only fueling Nanami's anxiety.
“This is Matsuda-san! Matsuda, this is Kento Nanami…he’s my…uhm,” you fumble but quickly recollect yourself to avoid anymore awkwardness, “he’s Hiroki’s father…”
That nearly split the sorcerer in half.
You took a second to catch your breath, unreasonably winded from the explanation alone.
“Ken, Matsuda-san is an acquaintance of mine. We actually had dinner a while back…I think you might remember me telling you about it?”
Nanami’s face turned to stone, hardening every muscle to stop himself from reacting.
Of course he remembers, he grumbles to himself, just like how he can still feel you on the tips of his fingers when his hand was between your legs while you were telling him all about it…
So, this is the guy, he acknowledged, a slight tremor shaking down his spine.
“Yes that’s right,” Matsuda confirmed with giddy amusement, but it only made Nanami want to knock the teeth out of that smug grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nanami-san....”
“You as well” Nanami responded bitterly but tried his best to remain cordial. He quickly averted his attention away from the man and back to your skittish self.
“Are you heading back to your place? I’ll gladly walk you home…”
“Actually…” Matsuda interrupted, and the cold stare Nanami shot at him was enough to shut him up before he could even pose any kind of bold suggestions.
“Well, you see…” you stammered nervously, “I’m actually not heading home just yet. I…uh, wanted to stop by this new boutique shop that just opened! You know, the one where I got my body wash from? They apparently have a great sale going on, and I really don’t want to miss it…”
“If I’m not mistaken, isn’t that shop just around the corner from your place?” Nanami pressed, slightly annoyed over the fact that this guy has not taken the hint and scampered off somewhere else.
“Oh, yeah…it is,” you wince unsuccessfully , “but the things is, I don’t know how long I’m going to be, and…uh…”
He can see you panicking, notice the way you were crafting a brand new story out of thin air to play it off as the truth.
He couldn’t hide the hurt on his face which softened at your desperate attempt.
You’ve always been such a terrible later.
“The thing is,” you carry on , “I actually made plans to meet with my co-worker…and, and… Matsuda-san is joining us as well! But…But, I’ll call you once I’m done to pick up Hiroki, okay?”
He hated how formally you sounded when speaking to him, like he was just another friend and not the man who was your former husband, not the man who you shared your body with or confessed your unconditional love to.
“Of course,” he conceded with resent, “I guess I’ll see you later this evening…”
He turned on his heel and walked in the other direction, refusing to look back to where his broken heart had remain fragmented.
When you picked up Hiroki that evening, Nanami couldn’t help but remain frigid towards you. He didn’t extend the usual invitation of welcoming you to his home, nor did he care to engage in any small conversation.
He was tired of having you drag him around with absolutely no consideration of his feelings.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
On any other day, Nanami would have the patience to deal with his superior’s animated personality. He closes his tired eyes for just a second in an attempt to tune out Gojo’s boisterous tone, and reluctantly releases a long, drawn out sigh.
“Nanamin,” Gojo lectures, “don’t frown on your birthday or you’ll be miserable until the next one…”
The blonde felt his eye twitch, noted the sudden tension pinching in the space where his brows furrowed together and he quickly glances over his shoulder to see the flash of a pearly, white grin looking right at him.
He can’t help but grimace.
Gojo raises his eyebrow, taken aback by the disdain on his subordinates face. “What? Are you really that upset because we decided to do something nice for you?”
Despite their best efforts to keep it all a secret, Nanami knew that Gojo and his band of students were planning out something special for his birthday.
Itadori wouldn’t stop pestering him with questions over what kind of gifts he likes, and what his favorite treats are. He would run off in secret with the other students and nearly flew across the room whenever Nanami caught him alone with Gojo.
For Itadori’s sake, Nanami attempted to display a level of surprise when he walked into the break room earlier today and was welcomed by a small party which everyone had pitched in to put together for him.
“I-…no…that’s not it…” He replies to Gojo’s initial question with a somber tone. Dropping his shoulders in defeat, he continues to carefully pack the array of gifts that have been left for him. “Although I find it quite unnecessary, I am very grateful for this, for what you all did…”
“How unfortunate for you to be so loved and cared for…” Gojo sassily remarks with a click of his tongue.
“Let’s not ruin a good thing, shall we? That’s probably the nicest compliment you’ll ever receive from me”
His superior laughs, “I’m sure I can drag another one out of you”
The echo of Gojo’s boot surrounds the room as he slowly approaches Nanami to stand by his side. “Seriously though,” he presses as he slides his hands deep into his pockets, “anything you want to share with me?”
“Not particularly,” Nanami huffs as he places the last gift into the paper bag.
“Not that it’s news, but you’ve had a particularly displeased scowl resting on your face for over a week…”
The blonde pauses what he’s doing to exhale with frustration, and it only prompts Gojo to quirk a curious brow.
Nothing Nanami could say would make him feel better about the fact that he saw his ex-wife with another man. Nothing will ease the wariness in his chest that you two have barely spoken to one another since that god awful encounter, and the one thing that Nanami least expected to happen on his birthday was for you to forget to call or text him a wish.
Instead, he swallows the hurt that lumps in his throat and glosses over Gojo’s concern over him.
“Nothing’s wrong”
He glances at his wrist to check the time. The festivities of the afternoon has him running late, which means that he’ll have to rush home and get ready quickly to make it in time to your place.
He picks up the two paper bags laying out on the table, “I have to go. I have to pick up Hiroki…”
His superior pouts his lip while complacently nodding his head, and taking into account the sudden sensitivity around the subject. His knowing eyes hidden behind his blindfold can tell that Nanami was avoiding the discussion entirely, but the blonde refused to stay behind and give Gojo anymore ammunition for him to pry even further.
But before he walked out the door, he could hear Satoru yelling from the back room.
"Cheer up, Nanamin! You never know if the day will take an unexpected turn!"
As he made his way out onto the grounds of Jujutsu Tech, Nanami considers that there is always a reason to celebrate one’s birthday, but for whatever reason, none of them seemed good enough for him this year.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
On his way home from work, Nanami tries to show gratitude to the small pockets of joy in his day.
He begrudgingly sent Gojo a follow up text to thank him for what he put together with the students after feeling a tad bit guilty about his rude responses earlier.
He was soon met with a bombardment of annoying pictures and I love you posts from his superior, to which he immediately muted the chat to in order to stop getting harassed with endless notifications.
He can feel the exhaustion settling in by the time he arrives to his place, slowly turning the key to his front door. Carefully taking off his shoes, he neatly places them on his shelf by the entrance before dragging his tired heels down the hallway.
He can’t stop thinking about the way the students showered him with such affection, and it is a conscious reminder of why he continues pursuing being a jujutsu sorcerer.
He cares for every one of them deeply, and would never allow the archaic practices of the society to strip them of their golden hearts and pure minds.
Things have to be different with them.
He places the paper bags filled with gifts on the floor, thinking that he’ll get around to opening them sometime tomorrow, then proceeds to loosen the tie around his neck. He steps out into the open space of his apartment, only to find himself walking into a sea of golden strings that were tied to round, blue balloons.
Nanami freezes.
You’re in the middle of his living room, wearing a pair of denim jeans and an embroidered white top that he specifically remembers buying for you while you were both dating.
You’re holding his son in your arms, the two of you beaming a very similar smile, and wearing an obnoxious pair of frilly party hats.
“Wha-”
Hiroki interrupts him by blowing into the party horn, the silly noise making him giggle as he repeats the action for a second time.
“Surprise!” you bounce with a little excitement, and Hiroki mimics your phrase as he attempts to speak out this new word.
Your ex-husband stares at you in shock.
He’s still absorbing all the elements around him, taking in the new details of the colorful, piped cake resting on the dining table, along with a full spread of dinner when the aromatics finally envelop his senses while also recognizing that there is music playing as low, mellow beats surround the room.
“We got your daddy good,” you adorably whisper into Hiroki’s ear, and Nanami swears that he can feel his heart beat for the first time in a week.
“What…” he rasps, snapping himself out of the disorientation and breaking the silence. “What are you doing here? How…How did you even get in?”
“I used the spare key you gave me…” you explain.
“But you’ve never used the spare key…” he argues back courteously.
You step closer towards him, and Hiroki immediately extends his chubby arms out to his father while dropping his party horn in the process.
Brown eyes stay watching you as Nanami reaches for his son, he secures him in one arm while the other searches for your waist to stop you from crouching down to pick up the insignificant object.
He squeezes you affectionately, begging for answers.
“I know, but today is different…It’s your birthday, Kento!”
“But…”
“But, what?” you question with a raised brow, your eyes glancing away for only a minute to look at how Hiroki mirrors his father. “Did you really think we weren’t going to celebrate this together?”
He slips his arm around your waist, resting his large palm flat against your the small of your back.
“I just thought that…I just thought that you were busy. I haven’t really heard from you this week…”
His voice is small, cautionary almost, like he’s too afraid to let his woes slip out.
You giggle sheepishly, and it sends goosebumps to run all over his skin.
“Well, I’ve been running around planning out a little something for somebody special,” you admit with a sly smile, “plus, I’ve also been helping out Yuji and Gojo with their secret surprise for you…”
Nanami can’t help but crack a smile, sensing the frustration of his stress dispersing.
“Don’t tell me that was your idea too?”
“Not necessarily, but I offered to help them out after Gojo called me. Besides, Yuji was struggling with ideas because he couldn’t swing any decent answers out of you…”
His fingers lightly tense around the fabric of your top, scrunching the material just a bit. “You knew about it but you weren’t there today,” he points out.
Your heart shivers from the innocent contact, but you hold your unwavering grin before replying, “I was thinking of stopping by at first, but I told Gojo that I would rather do something more cozy. I thought-I thought you might have appreciate if it was just the three of us celebrating together…”
Nanami smiles and it brightens his whole face. His eyes gleam with pure, unfiltered joy and he tenderly tugs you closer into his frame as he pulls you in for a much needed hug.
“I’m so happy you’re here,” he murmurs into your hair.
He keeps you there, the stillness only disturbed by Hiroki’s slightly fidgety state. He strokes his thumb up and down against your back, and rests his chin on your temple as he allows you to meld into the contortions of his frame when you return his embrace.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
Nanami was the one who always cooked.
In a way, your former husband spoiled you from ever wanting to go back into the kitchen by yourself because he always put together the most delectable meals.
Tonight, you decided to take on that role.
Gojo managed to keep Nanami distracted enough with their own party which gave you enough time to put together the spread of dinner. You sliced up fresh bread that you picked up from his favorite bakery, prepared homemade garlic oil which you used to cook down pieces of steak, and assembled a hearty salad.
The look of appreciation on Nanami’s face was more than enough to make you happy.
Content and stuffed with delicious food, you can’t help but admire him as he holds Hiroki’s cheek. The comparison of their size shows you how much time has already passed. Your son was no longer a tiny bundle with a pink nose wrapped up in a little blanket, he was growing into a whole new form of cuteness. He laughs with comprehension, and looks at you and Nanami with a recognition that reassures his safety.
“Da da da da…” he sings mindlessly, and Nanami chuckles as he swipes his thumb over Hiroki’s cheek to pick up a streak of pink buttercream.
“He’s covered in frosting,”
Your eyes immediately drop to your ex-husband’s lips, and you can’t help but tuck the bottom of your mouth between your teeth as you watch him suck off the frosting from the pad of his finger.
Your stomach coils, a tight band forming deep in your core, it’s so easy for you to get wound up whenever you’re around him, but lately that feeling has been much harder to fight off.
You sink your fork into your half-eaten piece of cake, picking up a tiny amount of vanilla sponge and moving it closer to your son. “Hiroki, you want another bite?” you ask, but you watch as he scrunches his nose in disdain.
His big, curious eyes catch the pretty color bordering the sponge, and he mindlessly reaches his fingers onto the plate to grab a fistful of cream.
“Ah! Hiroki!” you laugh playfully, as you pull the plate away and place it down onto the coffee table, denying him a second chance to do the same thing with his other hand.
“We should probably get him cleaned up…”
He’s already devouring the buttercream, and a deep, rumbling laughter erupts from right next to you.
“He’s fine,” Nanami shrugs off, lightly pushing his son’s blonde locks away from his face.
“Yeah, but I don’t want these sticky fingers getting all over your presents…” you insist.
You stand up from your seat and reach your arms out to grab Hiroki, but to your surprise Nanami simply gets up from the couch as well.
“Alright, my darling, you heard your mother…let’s get you cleaned up…”
He follows you into the kitchen. You immediately turn on the faucet to the sink, checking to make sure that the temperature is neither too hot or cold. Nanami leans forward, keeping his thumb and index finger around Hiroki’s wrist and directing it towards the water.
He rinses off the mess while you look around for some hand towels, to which your husband informs you that there are some extra ones folded in the bottom drawer.
You reach down to grab them, but by the time you return upright you see that your son has already found another way to dry off his wet little hands. He’s smoothing it all over Nanami’s blue shirt, leaving damp patches across his chest.
“Mama!” Hiroki calls out, turning his body within Nanami’s grasp to reach for you.
You press your mouth together as you look at your former lover with sympathy, but he nonchalantly just shrugs his shoulders.
“I guess he’s done with me now that he’s dried himself off”
You place the hand towel back on the counter, and carry your son in your arms. He flashes you the most angelic expression in the world, a look of such innocence that makes it impossible for you to hide your smile. You press you forehead against his own, and leave a peck on the button of his nose.
“Ready to give your daddy his present?”
Nanami leans his hip against the counter, keeping only a short distance of space between you both. You don’t have to face him to know that that he’s looking at you both with eyes dipped in pure devotion because you can feel the sheer intensity of his gaze from standing right where you are.
“Dinner, cake, and now presents? I’m truly a spoiled man today…”
You gaze at him from underneath your lashes, aware that you’re allowing your heart to speak on your behalf before replying, “you deserve to be spoiled, Ken”
He takes another step closer, narrowing the gap, and your entire body tenses up. You breathe in the faint scent of his lingering cologne, a fragrance of smoked wood and spicy herbs, and for whatever reason you can’t stop thinking about pressing yourself into the source.
“Alright,” he teases with flirtatious grin, “spoil me.”
The three of you are soon back on the couch, with Hiroki seated comfortably on your lap.“The first present is from Hiroki,” you announce as you pass the gift towards your husband, “he even wrapped it up himself.”
“I can see that,” Nanami acknowledges and starts to peel away at the messily folded paper to reveal the what is underneath.
The ceramic plate is hand painted. In the middle was the palm print of Hiroki’s right hand, and the detailing consisted of uneven brushstrokes in various colors. You spent a whole hour with your son to guide him with the design, practicing the motion of how to paint over and over again. Nanami smoothed his finger over his son’s imprint, focusing specifically on the letters right in the center which read: “I love you”.
“My, my, Hiroki…” he beams with pride, but his ears were turning pink knowing whose true hand wrote those words. “I didn’t know you had such artistic talents…”
His son smiles despite not quite comprehending his father’s sentiment. Nanami leans down to kiss his cheek, before leaving a second on the top of his head.
You don’t know why you’re so nervous to give him your gift but your hands tremble slightly as you pick it up, and a spark of electricity bolts up your left arm when he deliberately brushes his fingers on yours as he takes it from your hand.
“I know you have a whole stockpile of gifts to go through, but this is another that you can add to the list. You don’t have to open it now, you can save it for later if you like-”
Nanami unravels the tiny ribbon wrapped in the center, “it’s okay, I don’t mind opening it now.”
Your hands clasp themselves around Hiroki’s belly, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you keep your eyes focused on his face in anticipation of his reaction.
Nanami holds the vinyl record in his hand, his brows lifting almost instantly.
“You always mentioned how much you loved collecting cds when you were in teenager, and that you wanted to invest in having your own record collection one day. So, I thought this might be a good place to start! I remembered you saying that this band in particular was your favorite, so I wanted to make sure to get one by them…”
“This,” he interjects quietly, “This is a very rare vinyl…it’s not easy to get your hands on an original…”
Your cheeks grow hot, “yeah, well, it took me a while to find it but the search was worth it!”
“This is very sweet of you…”
Your mouth stretches from ear to ear, your cheeks pinching with delight. “I’m so happy you like it, Ken!”
When he looks at you this time, you’re completely captivated by the warm tones of his eyes and slight dilation of his pupils. His attention dips to your parted lips, before returning back to meet your heated stare.
He places the vinyl carefully onto the counter.
“I love the present,” he confesses, “I loved the cake, the dinner, having you both here…everything was…perfect.”
“Good, good,” you nod with approval, all the while trying to ignore your throat suddenly feeling tight. “You know, when I ran into you last week, I was genuinely worried that I might have given it all away…”
“Right, when you introduced me to Matsuda…”
His face grows sullen, and you’re caught off guard by his sudden indignation. Just as he found a moment to get a closer, Nanami decides in these fleeting seconds to pull himself away. He clears his throat as he shifts down, “thank you so much for the gifts,” he repeats with a stiff tone, “I think I’ll just get a head start with cleaning up…”
You look at him peculiarly, unsure of what triggered your handsome ex to shut down so suddenly around you.
“Don’t worry about cleaning up, I can do that-”
“I don’t want to keep you,” he harshly remarks, but the way he cuts off you makes you crinkle your eyes in frustration.
“Wait a minute,” you shoots your hand out to grab the sleeve of his shirt. “I’m not-I’m not in a rush to leave or anything…”
Nanami shrugs off your touch and it feels like a slap to the wrist.
"It's alright," he adds, "I don't want to intrude on you if you have other plans..."
Confusion gets the best of you, you can't seem to figure out what exactly set him off so quickly. You know this man well enough that you can tell that he's visibly upset, except he's doing everything in his power to hide it from you.
He picks up the plates on the coffee table before proceeding to head towards the kitchen.
You glance down at Hiroki for some level of consolation, but your son just looks back up at you with equal uncertainty.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
You settle Hiroki onto his play mat before making your way over to a very disgruntled Nanami. Your brain replays the last five minutes to decipher what it was you said that set him off, and you slide your hands into the back pocket of your jeans as you hesitantly approach him in the kitchen.
He's placing dishes into the sink, the warm light illuminating his face and highlighting the tips of his sharp cheekbones. You can see the twinge in his jaw, notice the tight knot of tension resting between his brows as he keeps his lips pressed into a firm line.
"Ken?" you speak softly, a wary smile forming on your lips. "What's wrong?"
He stops what he's doing, his hands reaching the edge of the counter and he squeezes the surface until his knuckles turn white. He's still trying to keep a level ahead, drawing out another exhale until he finally motivates himself to face you.
His eyes darken and your body shivers.
"Is this supposed to be test?"
"Test?"
"You need more proof to see how far I'll go just to make you happy?"
"What proof? I don't even know what you're talking about-"
He shakes his head in disbelief, standing upright before taking two long strides to close the gap of space so he's looking down right at you.
"We're just going to sit here and pretend like I didn't interrupt you on a date with your dear friend, Matsuda-san..."
"Date?!" you blurt in shock, taking in your ex lovers odd accusation with full surprise. "Kento-"
He folds his arms over his broad chest as he shifts his weight from one foot to the next.
"Look, I get it. We aren't together anymore, but you're still...very, very Important to me. I regard you so highly..."
"As do I-"
"I haven't asked anything of you in all this, not a single thing. I've said yes to whatever it is you have asked me. I did that all for your sake, not mine. The least I expected was some decency in return, and for you to be honest with me when you decided to jump into another relationship..."
"Kento!" you call out, reaching your hands up to his cheeks to stop him from rambling on any further.
The act renders him silent.
"I'm not...I'm not dating Matsuda," you state with a slight laugh like it's the most comical idea to cross your mind. "As a matter of fact, I'm not seeing anyone right now...I...I haven't even considered the idea...."
"But last week..." he insists with a panic that makes your chest ache.
You drop your hands to his shoulders to give him a reassuring squeeze.
"Kento, I asked you to watch over Hiroki because I was trying to sort this out," you clarify, glancing your eyes towards the party decorations and the entire set up that you had worked so hard to put together. "You never go to the bakery on a Wednesday, so I thought it would the perfect time to reserve all the stuff that I needed. I ran into Matsuda while I was there. The last time I saw him was when we...when I agreed to have dinner with him..."
Nanami breathes in softly, steadying himself as he hangs on attentively to every word that you have to say.
"Matsuda couldn't take the hint that I wasn't interested. I was about to decline his offer of walking me home when you showed up, and I...I really didn't expect to run into you. I overreacted because I was worried that you might catch onto my little plan. I just came up with a random excuse to lead you off the trail. I didn't..."
You sigh with remorse, shifting to look up at your ex from underneath your lashes as you finally piece together the source of his contention.
"I didn't even realize how that must have looked to you. I'm so sorry, Kento. I would never do anything to hurt you like that. Ever. You're too...you're too important me...and all I was thinking about...all I wanted to do was to make your birthday special for you. I really wasn't giving Matsuda any consideration..."
A wave of relief washes over him, all the while you can't stop thinking about how cute he looks all flustered.
"Shit," he murmurs, bringing two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose as his cheeks turn a subtle shade of pink. "I feel like an idiot..."
You purse your lips into another small grin, "you're not an idiot, it's just a misunderstanding..."
He stays silent for a moment, returning his sights back on you as he nips at his bottom lip.
"I'm...I'm never going to be okay with it..." he boldly admits, his voice dropping another octave as two hands settle against your sides. "I'll tolerate everything else between us, but I'll never be okay watching you move on with somebody else..."
His words make your heart shrivel like a piece of fruit bathing underneath the golden sun. Heat rushes to your cheeks as the band in your belly twists into another knot.
When you part your lips to say something, no words come out.
"Are you really that shocked?" he questions, clenching his hands around the waistband of your jeans. "Put yourself in my shoes, how would you feel if you saw me with someone else?"
You feel a catch in your throat. You don't want to admit how often you've thought about it, considered what he does in his spare time when you and Hiroki weren't in the picture. Whenever your mind spirals with the idea that he was with another woman, it would bring tears to your eyes every. single. time.
"I don't even like thinking about it," you disclose, your voice cracking slightly as your throat goes dry.
"I guess," he whispers, tugging you forward so that you were both now chest to chest, "we can at least agree on one thing..."
Your hands trail to his pecs, your eyes growing heavy as you feel the weight of his forehead press tenderly onto yours. His fingers find your chin, the featherlight touch tilting it only slightly upward so your lips can brush over his.
He doesn't stop himself this time, doesn't consider the laundry list of reasons as to why this will only complicate things further. He's tired of this divorce, tired of not having you around, so fucking tired of not kissing you whenever his heart desires-
So, he presses his mouth delicately down onto yours and throws caution to the wind.
Your knees buckle, your fingers tightening around the fabric of his shirt as your eyes fall close like you've been cast under a spell. A surge of adrenaline rushes through your veins, making your body buzz from the tip of your fingers down to your toes. You can feel Nanami's heart race from beneath your palm just as he parts his lips to invite you to taste him even further and you can't help but sing sweetly into the kiss as you allow your tongue to slip through.
"hmph, Ken," you mumble, attempting to draw your spit slicked lips away but the man simply captures you back with ease.
He can hear the resistance in your voice, but there was no way he was letting you go that easily again.
"Stay the night," he requests with a gentle snag of your bottom lip.
Your shaky arms circle around his neck, your body melting into him as he daringly draws his hand from your lower back to dive straight into the back pocket of your jeans.
With a kiss to the corner of your mouth he follows up his demand with a loving "please?"
"I don't know...mmph," you sigh, but in between Nanami interrupts you with another peck.
"I don't know..." you repeat again under your breath, only this time you find yourself searching for his mouth.
The exchange carries on, light smacks and tender licks distracting you both and Nanami drops his other hand to circle around your throat.
The blood rushes between his legs feeling the vibrating flutter of your pulse beneath his fingers.
"Hiroki's staying" he insists as he nuzzles the tip of his nose over yours. "We'll have some more cake, get him ready for bed, and then you and I..."
Your fingers thread between the strands of his blonde hair, your neck falling to the side as he travels to the spot that makes you go weak.
"can keep talking."
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
regarding ex husband nanami requests - requests for this series are still open, I feel like I'm building the story with you guys so I'll keep it that way until it's complete. please note that not all requests will be fulfilled - I do get some that are quite similar so I'm selecting based off of how the story progresses xo
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
let know if you would liked to be tagged! x
@hisheadismountfuji @clara-geekhime @moonmalice @bibemiiu @nutheadgeenat @satoruhour @i-be-teff
790 notes · View notes
steddieas-shegoes · 3 months
Text
sew you up
for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'hurt/comfort' rated t wc: 993 cw: injury tags: post-vecna, someone finally takes care of steve's bat bite, getting together
-----------------------------------------
He just had to get them all safe. Then he could take care of the bite.
He just had to keep an eye on Eddie, make sure no government officials tried to take him or let the police arrest him. Then he could take care of the bite.
He just had to help Wayne get them moved into their new trailer. Then he could take care of the bite.
Excuses kept piling up, one after another, and the pulsing, searing pain of the bite became easier to ignore. That meant it was healing, right?
But one month later, the bite was still as open and ugly as it had been when the bat latched on, and he had to face the facts.
“You okay over there?” Eddie asked from his bed.
He was mostly mobile, but moved much slower than he used to and had a lot of aches and pains from still-healing scar tissue. He rested in bed more than he did anything else, and Steve usually kept him company long after everyone else left.
“Yeah, think I’m just tired.”
He was tired. But he was also in pain, and could feel the sweat beading on his forehead as he clenched his jaw to avoid groaning.
He’d just moved wrong a little while ago and the pain wasn’t subsiding like it usually did. He’d be fine.
“You’re pretty pale, Stevie.”
“Might be coming down with something,” he shrugged it off. It could be true, after all. He was feeling feverish.
“Oh! Meant to ask you the other day. How’s that bite doing?” Eddie asked casually.
Too casually.
Steve stared back at him, eyes squinting in suspicion.
“It’s fine.”
“Yeah? Mine’s kinda hurting still. Can’t bend down all the way.”
Still so casual.
“Yours was worse than mine, man.”
Eddie nodded, seemingly accepting that as a response, almost looking like he was going to move on.
“I saw a doctor for mine. Many doctors. A few nurses. One government person who took an hour bandaging it up. Not sure what that was about,” Eddie shook himself out of a thought. “But you didn’t see anyone, did you?”
Steve bit his lip.
“No. But mine wasn’t that bad. It’s healing.”
Eddie put his notebook down and took in Steve’s posture. Steve tried to sit up straighter in the desk chair he was lounging in, but as soon as he tried, he let out a hiss and small whimper.
“Let me see it.”
Eddie’s tone was short, serious, something Steve had never heard from him before.
He stood up slowly, wincing as the area around the bite pulled painfully.
Eddie slowly moved to the edge of his bed and parted his legs, waving his hand to get Steve to come closer.
Steve moved closer, ignoring the way his stomach fluttered when Eddie’s hand gripped his uninjured hip to tug him even closer.
His other hand lifted Steve’s shirt up enough to see the wound.
“Steve,” he breathed out. “This needs to be stitched up. It’s too deep to heal on its own. You’ve just been walking around with this?”
“I mean, yeah. It’s gotten a little better.”
Eddie looked up at him with wide eyes.
“This is better?”
Steve nodded.
“This is. Steve, does Robin know it’s this bad?”
Steve shook his head.
“Does anyone?”
Steve shook his head again.
“Alright. I’m fixing this.” Eddie started to get up, gently pushing Steve away from him, but not removing his hand from his hip. “You lay down. I’m grabbing my sewing kit and alcohol.”
“Wait. What?” Steve felt himself panic. “You can’t- you’re not!”
“Steve. Do what I tell you to do before I call Robin and tell her you’ve been ignoring a fucking demobat bite for a month.”
So Steve got as comfortable as he could on the bed, lifted his shirt up to his chest, and waited.
Eddie took his time, but Steve didn’t mind, would much rather wait than Eddie hurt himself worse.
Eventually, Eddie came back and pulled the chair to the side of the bed.
He worked slowly, but confidently. He gave Steve a pillow to hold so he wouldn’t flinch too much while he worked, closing up the main part of the bite so it could actually heal.
When he was done, he bandaged it up tight, and then traced the edges of the bandage.
“Why didn’t you say something?” He whispered.
“Didn’t think it was that bad,” Steve whispered back.
“You didn’t think an open wound like that was bad? Jesus.” Eddie shook his head. “I knew you were self-sacrificial, but this is insane. You can’t hide this shit, Stevie. You could get an infection, you could die.”
Steve gulped.
He’d considered it a few times, but figured he would have already ended up in the hospital if it was going to happen.
“Yeah. But you fixed it, so I’ll be fine.”
“You better let me change your bandages every day for the next week so I can make sure it’s healing right.”
“Won’t that get annoying?” Steve asked.
Eddie didn’t answer for a moment, just watched as Steve pulled his shirt back down.
And then his lips were gently pressing against Steve’s forehead, lingering heat making Steve close his eyes.
“You could never annoy me. The only thing annoying to me is that you thought that being taken care of was annoying,” Eddie said, lips still resting against Steve’s skin, his breath almost tickling.
“So you’re my nurse, now?” Steve asked with a smirk.
Eddie pulled back and cupped his cheek.
“Yep. You better be a good patient.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll steal your hairspray.”
Steve gasped.
“You wouldn’t!”
“I would. So you better do as I say and make sure you take care of this.”
“Fine. Do I get a real kiss for being on my best behavior?”
Eddie bit his bottom lip, his cheeks going red.
“Maybe if you make room for me in bed.”
“Deal.”
290 notes · View notes
blue-b3rries · 9 months
Text
Attraction, pt 2
Pairings: Tomioka Giyu x reader, Obanai Iguro x Mitsuri Kanroji
TW's: none
Word Count: 730+
A/N: all images are from the KnY manga, thank you for the support on part 1. Giyu and Muichiro treat each other like siblings.. Again, sorry if anything is inaccurate. Sorry if it's shorter than you expected, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless!
Tags: @vkqxc20, @minnipe, @imyourbrokenfridge, @sugaremedy
Tumblr media
It wasn't long before you and Giyu had made it to the ramen shop, still hand-in-hand. Despite how off-putting he might seem, he was actually enjoyable to be around. You two had chatted about random things, like favorite colors, weather, different breathing styles. And he surprisingly answered all of them, even your stupid questions like, was he a dog or cat person, would he cry at weddings, and do you snuggle your pillow when you go to sleep.
He seemed to be enjoying your company, and he even smiled at you. To which you responded with smile yourself. You were glad he was so comfortable around you, he wasn't like that with anyone besides Muichiro.
"We're here", Giyu interrupted the silence. "What do you want? I can order for you."
You looked up at him, "Just chicken ramen."
Giyu nodded at your words, "Then I'll get some, too." He gave you a short smile before opening the door to the shop for you.
You sat down at a small table, waiting for Giyu to come back once he ordered. You let out a small yawn as you looked around, the shop wasn't that full. But you supposed it was because it was about to be three, everyone was finishing up work.
It was a little later when Giyu returned, sitting down beside you. "It should be ready in less than ten minutes."
Okay so ten minutes more with Giyu, that wouldn't be awkward at all. You two had talked about everything, well, you had talked about everything. Giyu was more of a listener than a talker, although that was mostly obvious. Maybe you should ask him if he wanted to ask you anything?
"Do you want to ask me anything Giyu? I've been the one bombarding you with questions after all", you turned your head to look at him, awaiting his answer.
"Oh um, not really", Giyu fiddled with his hands, "I don't have any right now."
You nodded and rested your chin on the palm of your hand. A minute had to have passed by, right? It's not like you didn't enjoy Giyu's company, you just didn't know what to talk about with him. The Water Hashira went on most missions alone for god's sake.
But at the same time it was calming to stay in silence. You yourself only chatted if it was with someone new. You remember going out to eat with Kyojuro once after a mission, and having to listen to him say "Omai!" at the top of his lungs every time he took a bite of food.
You and Giyu sat in silence for at least another minute or so, sneaking glances at one another. It wasn't long after that when a waiter had came with your ramen bowls and chopsticks, leaving with a bow.
Giyu looked at you, as if expecting you to start eating first. You glanced at him before taking your chopsticks in hand, picking up a bite. You blew on it, taking a bite. That seemed to be the sign Giyu was looking for, as he did the same. So he was waiting for you to eat first, what a gentleman.
You two ate together, cracking little jokes here and there. You were glad that Obanai had eyes on Mitsuri, because Giyu was much more enjoyable to be around, to be with.
You two had finished eating after a few minutes, you were now heading back to headquarters after you had paid the bill, well. Giyu had paid the bill for you, much to your protests. He insisted that it was his pleasure, so naturally you relented and let him pay it.
You didn't seem to notice the way Sanemi's mouth dropped when you and Giyu walked back to headquarters hand in hand. Or the way Gyomei gave a knowing smile, and Muichiro looked on, confused on who you were. Shinobu smiled in victory as Uzui groaned and handed her 300 yen, and Kyojuro seemed to beam at the sight of you two. Not that you both noticed anything. You honestly didn't even bother to notice that Mitsuri and Obanai were out again, your mind now focused on the raven haired man holding your hand.
The one thing Obanai had done right to you was not recuperating your feelings, because if he did you wouldn't be as happy as you were right now with Giyu.
446 notes · View notes
candycandy00 · 4 months
Text
The Doll House - A Toji x Reader Fanfic Part 4 (Final)
You’re in love with Toji, even after finding out he trains sex dolls at the Doll House. Taking a chance, you sell yourself to the Doll House so he can be your trainer, and you bet him that you can make him fall for you by the end of the training.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Read Geto’s Part Here!
Read Nanami’s Part Here!
Read Sukuna’s Part Here!
Read Gojo’s Part Here!
Read Choso’s Part Here!
Tumblr media
AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Toji’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored! I’m keeping the same tag list as Geto’s part. If you’d like to be removed, please let me know!
Note: Consider these parts AU’s within an AU. So you might see Geto with a different doll from the reader in his part, but just consider this an alternate timeline lol.
Smut. 18+. Short Fem Reader. Cock drunk reader. Age difference (Reader is 20, Toji is 38). Size difference kink. Rough sex. Use of aphrodisiacs. Brief attempted rape. Lots of cum. Divider by @benkeibear!
Tumblr media
The next day, Toji takes Megumi to school and makes arrangements for his uncle to pick the boy up afterwards. You’re a little sad to see Megumi go. While he started out a bit rude, he seemed to be warming up to you. Hopefully, you’ll get the chance to spend time with him again. 
You and Toji have breakfast together, then spend the rest of the morning enjoying each other’s bodies. At lunch, Toji orders takeout, and while the two of you are eating at the small table in his room, he says something that makes you totally lose your appetite. 
“So there’s a buyer who wants to meet you.”
The plastic fork in your hand drops to your foam plate. You knew this was coming, you’ve been mentally preparing yourself for it. Meeting with potential buyers is part of the process at the Doll House. It’s one of the things that makes the place so popular among buyers and people considering becoming dolls. Meeting with someone a few times before the purchase gives both parties a chance to feel each other out before making a ten year commitment. Dolls even have the right to reject buyers if they provide sufficient reasoning, though obviously they can’t just reject buyer after buyer. 
But these past few weeks with Toji have been like a dream, like a fairytale. You’ve been so happy spending every day by his side, and now reality is crashing into your fantasy. You definitely haven’t given up on the bet, and you have almost two more weeks, but you realize that you have to play by the rules. You have to meet with the buyer. 
“Okay,” you say, picking the fork back up, “I’ll meet him.”
Toji watches you, seeming surprised that you’re not arguing about this. “I’ll have the owner set things up,” he says after a pause, taking a bite of his sandwich. 
The meeting happens two days later, in the afternoon. You sit in the welcome room of the Doll House, Toji standing nearby, as you wait to meet your potential buyer. Even though you still feel confident that you can get Toji to fall for you, there’s something nerve wracking about this meeting. Knowing this man wants to literally buy ten years of your life, if the meeting goes “well”, just makes you feel awkward and mildly creeped out. 
When the owner walks in, there’s a man walking beside her. He’s younger than you expected, much younger than Toji. You guess his age to be no older than mid twenties. He’s not repulsive, in fact he’s sort of cute, dressed impeccably, and carrying himself in a dignified manner. But he’s not Toji, and seeing the two men in the same room together really drives that point home. 
He sits down on the plush sofa beside you, not too close, and crosses one leg over the other. He flashes you a gleaming smile that probably cost him a lot of money. 
The two of you make small talk. Mostly introductions and generic pleasantries. At one point he asks, “What did you do before this?”
“I worked at a convenience store,” you reply with a smile. 
His nose seems to wrinkle a bit at that. He returns your smile as he says, “I work for a major investment firm. I’m in high demand, so I stay busy. I don’t have time to date and pursue relationships.”
In your mind, all you can hear is that he doesn’t want to put in the effort required to find and keep a girlfriend, but you keep that to yourself. 
“So do you live around here?” he asks. 
“Oh, yeah, I have a small apartment in town. It’s really close to the store I worked at, so I could walk there and save on gas.”
There it is again, that wrinkle of his nose, as if your frugality is disgusting. To be honest, you’re hoping he doesn’t like you, so maybe you’re emphasizing the fact that you’re borderline poor. 
“You might have a hard time getting used to my place then,” he says with a smug grin. “It’s huge, three stories, eight bedrooms, four baths, a pool in the backyard…”
He goes on for a while longer, and you simply smile and nod, with the occasional, “Wow” thrown in. You wonder if he can tell just how much you don’t care about his big house. 
The man moves his hands a lot as he speaks, and you suddenly notice light glinting off the gold, fancy-looking watch on his wrist. It’s quite annoying, and distracting. When he notices you looking at it, he stops and holds his arm up. 
“You like it? I bet you’ve never seen a watch like this before. If I told you how much it cost, you might faint,” he says with a chuckle. 
You give a small laugh of your own. “Actually, the light reflecting off it is blinding me.” Then you hold up your own wrist, where the watch you bought last year at a discount store is sitting. “Mine can catch the light too, and it was only ten dollars!”
Behind the man, Toji has one hand on his mouth, stifling a laugh, the other hand clutching his side. When he meets your gaze, he rolls his eyes in an exaggerated way and shakes his head. You have to fight back a laugh of your own. 
The man looks at you sharply, and for the first time you get a genuinely bad feeling about him. He smiles at you again, but there’s something off about the expression. He looks like he finds you amusing, in a “here’s a toy I can play with and break” sort of way. 
Later, after he’s gone, you and Toji are walking down the hall. “Can you believe that guy?” you ask. “Are all buyers rich assholes?”
Toji laughs again. “Nah, most of them are alright. But this guy? He sure was rich, huh?”
“If there’s one thing I can say about him, it’s that he’s rich,” you reply. 
“Yep. That’s the main takeaway from that meeting,” Toji says, grinning. 
You think the meeting went well for you, but pretty poorly for the buyer. Which is why you’re quite surprised when, two days later, the buyer wants to have another meeting with you. He’s going to have dinner with you in one of the empty rooms, privately. 
“Do I have to be alone with him?” you ask Toji as you get ready for the dinner date. 
“Buyers request private meetings all the time. It’s normal,” Toji says, stepping closer to zip up the back of your dress for you. “But it’s just dinner. He’s not supposed to touch you.”
You turn around to look at Toji. “What if he does?”
He gives you a smile. “I’ll be right outside the door. Call for me and I’ll be in there before you can blink.”
“What if he locks the door?”
Toji grins. “Do you think a locked door would stop me?”
You sigh as you turn back to the dresser and look in the mirror. You haven’t dressed up since you got here. Toji seems fine with you wearing casual clothes, or nothing at all. But tonight you have to look “fancy”. You reach down and pick up the glass bottle of Toji’s cologne and spritz some on your neck. Then you whirl around to face Toji again. You stand on your tiptoes and give him a quick kiss. 
“Okay, I’m ready. But just so you know, I’m gonna be thinking about sucking your cock the whole time!”
Toji’s eyes widen, but then he laughs. “That’s one way to get through a boring dinner!”
You grin at him, sliding your hand down to palm his dick through his pants. “Be ready for me,” you say, “I’m gonna be famished when we get back to your room.”
His hand quickly moves under your dress, groping your pussy through your thin panties. “We have a few minutes, maybe I should fuck you right now, send you on your little date with my cum oozing out of your pussy.”
You gasp as you feel one of his fingers slip beneath the fabric and stroke your slit. “Please do! I wanna feel it dripping out while I sit across from him.”
Toji immediately turns you around to face the dresser, bends you over it, and hikes your dress up to your waist. He pulls your panties to the side and slides himself in, easily going all the way into your slick entrance. It’s a quick and rough fuck, with Toji thrusting fast and hard, making your legs wobble and your pussy ache. It doesn’t take long for him to pump you full of his cum. 
You stay there, leaning across the dresser, trying to catch your breath. You can feel Toji’s cum seeping out and into your panties. Behind you, he uses his hand to press the fabric against your pussy, getting it all messy and damp. “Don’t change them,” he says into your ear.  
“I won’t,” you tell him, finally straightening up and pulling your dress back down. “So while I’m in there, keep thinking about my pussy soaking in your cum.”
************************
Toji watches her walk down the hall in front of him and then go inside the room where the potential buyer is waiting. The door is shut, and Toji stands leaning against it. 
Though he looks calm, inside he’s so riled up, it takes all of his strength to resist tearing down the door and fucking her on the table right in front of the buyer. The fact that she wanted to be filled with his cum while having dinner with another man is so insanely fucking hot, Toji is having trouble controlling himself. He wants her under him right now, or on her knees in front of him, choking on his cock. 
He takes a deep breath and crosses his arms over his chest, trying to calm himself down. No doll has ever made him feel this way before. He enjoyed fucking them, sure, but he’s never felt like he needed them. But this girl… he’s getting dangerously addicted to her. 
Time passes at an agonizingly slow pace as he waits for their dinner to be over. And when the door finally opens, his heart beats faster when she steps out. The dress is a fairly simple one. She probably bought it at a mall somewhere. But on her, it looks stunning. When she walks by him, he smells his own cologne, his own scent. It drives him wild. 
The buyer steps out after her. He doesn’t look very happy despite the smile on his face. She probably made him feel foolish again, or just wasn’t impressed by all his bragging. Either way, Toji feels relieved that the date didn’t seem to go well. He tries not to think about what that means. 
He doesn’t even look at Toji, as if the man training his potential sex doll to please him is beneath his notice. Toji doesn’t care. In a few minutes he’ll be balls deep in her tight little pussy while this asshole goes home alone. 
Back in Toji’s room, she’s giggling as she sits on his bed, taking off her high heeled shoes. “You should’ve seen his face when I told him I love to shop at thrift stores! I thought he was gonna vomit up his dinner!”
Toji smiles as he watches her, noting how easy and comfortable the conversation is between them, as opposed to the stiff and awkward way she and the buyer spoke to each other. “So did you learn anything new about him?” he asks. 
She snorts cutely. “I learned how many cars he has, where his summer home is, and that he only wears clothes from some Italian brand I can’t pronounce.”
“Oh, so you learned he’s rich. Again.”
She laughs and stands up, crossing over to him with bare feet. Having just seen her in heels, he’s struck again by how short she is. But she reaches up and wraps her small hands around his neck, pulling him down closer to her. “I learned that he’s utter trash compared to you,” she says, then kisses him deeply. 
The next day, the owner calls Toji into her office to speak privately. He’s always found her office to be slightly intimidating, with its blood red carpets and decor. The desk she sits behind is made of deep cherry wood, glossy with polish. Her chair is lined with velvet, and she holds a folded silk fan in one hand. 
“He wants to sample the goods,” she says. 
Toji blinks. “Seriously? They’re not hitting it off at all. I get the impression he doesn’t even like her.”
It’s common practice for a buyer to want to “sample the goods”, as the owner put it. What that entails differs from buyer to buyer. Some want to see the doll naked. Some want to watch a few training sessions. Some want to actually have sex with the doll. It’s no surprise that they ask for this, as this is a ten year contract and a lot of money is involved. And so long as the doll agrees to it, which they almost always do, it’s allowed. It’s something that usually happens after a few meetings, and only after the buyer has demonstrated a serious intent to buy the doll. 
“He doesn’t have to like her,” the owner says, “he only has to want to fuck her. You know this. Dolls aren’t wives or girlfriends.”
True, Toji thinks, but in his experience, both parties were much happier with the purchase when they got along. 
“So? What does he want exactly?”
The owner doesn’t bat an eye. “Full sexual intercourse.”
Toji feels a knot in his stomach. His doll won’t agree to that. She can’t stand that guy. And… the thought of that guy touching her made Toji feel sick. 
“Absolutely not,” he tells the owner. “She’s not gonna be willing to do that.”
The owner stares at him silently for a moment, then sighs. “Alright. Sex is off the table. How about I counter offer with some kissing and light touching?”
Toji doesn’t like that either. He opens his mouth to say so, but the owner cuts him off. 
“Fushiguro, you’re one of the best trainers we have. You consistently provide excellent results. But there’s something off here. I’ve asked around, and it turns out you can’t get this doll to have sex with any of the other trainers. That’s a staple of your training! Now you’re bristling at the idea of the buyer sampling the goods. What’s going on?”
Toji suddenly feels defensive. “Nothing is going on. She’s kind of attached to me, that’s all. It happens occasionally, you know that.”
The owner taps her long fingernails on her desk. “So do something about it. Pump her full of your drug and send her in to meet with the buyer again. Give her so much she won’t care who he is. Don’t screw up and ruin your track record.”
Toji scratches the back of his head, thinking it over. “Okay, I’ll try it. But just kissing and light touching, right?”
The owner nods. “I’ll tell him tonight. If he agrees, we’ll move forward tomorrow.”
Later, when Toji tells his doll about this, she’s understandably upset. 
“I have to kiss him? And let him touch me?!”
“Just a little. Nothing under the clothes,” Toji says. 
She’s sitting on his bed, wearing pajamas - a tank top and thin cotton shorts. “But… I only want you to touch me,” she says in a small voice. It makes him want to pull her into his arms, but he doesn’t. 
“Look, we have to show that you’re willing to give buyers a shot. If not, it makes me look bad as a trainer. I won’t force you to do anything, but I will ask. As a friend, can you do this for me? Just give him a few minutes. Let him kiss you and cop a feel, then tell him that’s all you can handle right now. He’ll leave and that’ll be the end of it.”
She looks at him with wet, glassy eyes, her lips slightly quivering. “Okay,” she says. “But only if you’ll stay in the room with us.”
He sits down beside her and puts an arm around her shoulder. “Of course I will.”
The next evening, the meeting is set up. Toji gives her a dose of the “aphrodisiac”. He expected her to reject it, but she takes it without complaint, saying, “I could drink a gallon of this stuff and I still wouldn’t want him.”
Like always, her skin becomes flushed and her breathing becomes rapid. She stares at Toji with lusty eyes even as the buyer walks into the room. He gives Toji a surprised, unhappy look. 
“Are you supposed to be in here?”
Toji nods. “Standard procedure. You won’t even know I’m here.”
The doll is sitting on Toji’s bed, looking small and helpless as the buyer sits down next to her. Her eyes sweep over to Toji as the buyer’s hand moves to her face and pulls her into a kiss. It’s obvious that she’s not feeling it, and Toji thinks the buyer must be able to see that. But the buyer doesn’t seem to care, holding her face still while he sticks his tongue in her mouth, ignoring her whimpers. 
The sight of it repulses Toji on a primal level. He’s watched countless buyers kiss and even fuck the dolls he’s trained, and it’s never bothered him. Maybe because it’s never bothered the dolls. Maybe because this doll is different. 
The buyer suddenly begins groping at her breasts, his hands rough and clumsy. She draws back a few inches, but doesn’t push him away. Her eyes are on Toji, as if she’s asking if this is enough, if she can stop this now. 
For his part, Toji wanted to stop this from the moment the buyer walked in. Every spot the buyer touches on her skin, Toji wants to gently wash for her when they take a shower together later. He wants to erase this entire evening. 
After a few more minutes, Toji gives her a nod, and she quickly pushes the buyer back. “Sorry,” she says, “but that’s all I can handle right now. I’m still in training and-“
The buyer cuts her off, kissing her again, then suddenly pushes her onto her back in the bed, climbing onto her and sliding his hands under her shirt. 
*******************
You thrash and kick, trying to push the buyer off you, screaming out, “No! Stop it!”
Then, all at once, he’s gone. One second he’s on top of you, pawing at you, and the next he’s simply not there anymore. You look over to find Toji literally holding the buyer by his collar, his feet dangling inches from the floor. 
“This isn’t what we agreed to,” Toji says, his voice low. “And she said no.”
Toji drops the buyer, who lands in a heap on the floor. The man scurries away from Toji and then scrambles to his feet, his face red, looking incredulous. 
“Who cares what she says?!” the buyer yells. “She’s just a doll! I’ll own her in a week and then I can put the little bitch in her place! The only thing this stupid cunt will ever be good for is sucking cock, and we both know-“
Toji’s fist smashes into the man’s face, so fast you barely see him move. Blood sprays across the room, and when Toji draws back, you can see that the man is now missing several teeth, his lips bloody and busted. You’re instantly reminded of your would-be attacker in the convenience store. 
The man wobbles, but somehow keeps his balance. He holds a hand up to his shattered face and lets out a garbled scream. Then he looks up at Toji. 
“How dare you!” he screams, the words sounding funny through his broken mouth. You think to yourself that he should just shut up and leave, but apparently a lifetime of getting whatever you want makes you overly bold. “I’ll have you fired for this, you son of a bitch! You’re just a trainer! You’re a nobody!”
That’s when you jump out of the bed, rush over, and kick the barely standing man right between his thighs. “Compared to Toji, you’re nothing!” you scream. “And I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last man on earth!”
Toji comes over to stand beside you as the man howls and crumples over. “Nice kick, babe!”
You smile proudly at him. “Thanks!”
The man is looking up at both of you with angry, watery eyes. “I’ll sue! I’ll have this place shut down!”
Toji bends down and yanks the buyer up by his shirt. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, you sniveling little fuck.” Toji opens the door and drags the younger man bodily into the hall. You follow behind, and the man loudly screams insults, becoming hysterical now. 
The other doors in the hall open as the rest of the trainers step out to see what the commotion is about. Even Sukuna is in the hallway now, watching the unfolding scene with a grin on his face. 
The buyer notices them all and screams, “What are you looking at?! This place is nothing but a whore house anyway! All the women here are filthy sluts!”
Toji pauses in the middle of the hall. Six pairs of eyes suddenly darken and narrow. The man falls silent at the sight. Toji’s voice is dangerously low as he says, “Now you’ve pissed off the last six guys on earth that you ever wanna make angry. You don’t insult dolls in this house.”
The other trainers begin walking menacingly down the hall toward Toji and the man, and they follow as Toji drags him into the parking lot. You decide to stay inside, but you can hear the man screaming for a long while after that. 
When Toji comes back inside, you’re waiting in his room for him. He sits down beside you on the bed and says, “Are you okay?”
You nod, leaning your head onto his shoulder. “I’m fine. I wasn’t scared. I knew you wouldn’t let things go too far.”
Toji looks down at his bloody knuckles. “I wanted to kill him,” he admits, “but I guess giving him a beating he’ll never forget is good enough.”
“Are you gonna get in trouble for that?” you ask, suddenly worried. 
“Nah, he tried to force himself on you. I just stopped a crime. He’ll be removed from the client list so he can never come back here. Not that he ever would after tonight.”
“Thank you, Toji. You saved me again,” you say, snuggling closer to him. 
He glances down at you, then after being quiet for a few moments, he says, “You said before that you wanted me to tell you about any happy memories I have.”
You look up at him. “Yeah.”
“Well I don’t have a lot of those, to be honest,” he tells you. “But the ones I do have… they all involve Yumi. Megumi’s mom. Do you still wanna hear about it?”
You nod vigorously. 
Toji takes a breath, then goes on. “I don’t have a good relationship with my family. I ran away from home when I was a teenager, grew up mostly on the streets, got into gambling, drinking, all that stuff. So I wasn’t the nicest person when I met her. But she burst into my life like a sunbeam. She was chatty and funny and always smiling. And I guess that cheery attitude rubbed off on me a little. We got married, she got pregnant, had Megumi, and at the time I thought, ‘So this is what it’s like to have a happy family’.”
He stops for a moment, smiling at the memory. Then the smile fades. “Yumi got the diagnosis when Megumi was three months old. An aggressive cancer. No chance of survival. They gave her six months. You know, right up until the end, it didn’t feel real. Somewhere in the back of my mind I believed she’d get better. They’d suddenly invent a new drug or she’d go into remission or… or something. I kept thinking we’d get a miracle. But we didn’t. She died five months later. Didn’t even get the full six months.”
Toji’s eyes are clouded with sorrow as he takes another pause, then continues. “I tried to hold it together for Megumi’s sake. I really did. But I just couldn’t. Losing Yumi… it was like losing a vital organ. How was I supposed to live after that? So I went back to all my old habits. Staying drunk off my ass, gambling all my money away, getting into bar fights… anything to keep myself from thinking about Yumi. Then one night I got arrested, and I lost custody of Megumi.”
He notices the sad look on your face and smiles. “It was probably for the best. I wasn’t much of a father to him. And my relatives took him in so he could avoid the foster care system. That was probably my lowest point, but it was a wake up call. I stopped gambling, stopped fighting, got a job… I wouldn’t say I’ve completely turned my life around, because I’m still not raising my own son, but I’m in a much better place than I was.”
“I’m happy for you. That was a lot to overcome,” you tell him, taking one of his hands in yours. 
He looks down at you with a warm expression, one you’ve never seen on his face before. “All this is to say, I have a lot of baggage. I’m pushing forty, I have an unruly kid who hates me, and a dead wife I’m never gonna stop loving. If you still think ten years with me is a prize, I’ll keep you.”
Your eyes widen and your lips fall open. “Does this mean… I won the bet?”
Toji looks a little embarrassed as he looks away from your face. “Ah, well, the truth is, these past few weeks, I’ve been feeling things I haven’t felt since Yumi was alive. And it kinda scared me. So I tried to ignore it, but tonight the truth slapped me in the face. The thought of some other man, any other man, touching you… it’s unbearable. Right now, my biggest fear is losing you.”
Eyes brimming with tears, you crawl into his lap, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m so happy, Toji! I love you!”
He kisses the top of your head, rubbing your back. “I love you too.” 
The words sound like music to you. They’re everything you’ve ever wanted. You rise up to face him, looking into his eyes. “So, am I yours now?”
“Not yet. You have to complete the training, then your contract will transfer to me.”
You kiss him on the lips. “I can’t wait.”
His hands rubbing your back begin to slide your shirt up. “You really in such a hurry to belong to me?”
You hold your arms up for him to pull your shirt over your head. “I’ve belonged to you for over two years now,” you say. “You just didn’t realize it.”
He grins, turning you sideways in his lap so he can slide your skirt and panties down your legs and off your ankles. Then you turn back to face him again, your legs straddling him. You’re completely naked in his lap, your wet pussy rubbing against the soft fabric of his pants as you lightly grind into him. “Toji, please,” you say, arching your back.
“What do you want?” he asks, a bit teasingly. 
“I want you inside me,” you breathe out. “Always.”
His hand moves down to the waistband of his pants, where he pulls the front down. His cock springs free, already hard. He lifts you up slightly so that you can get in position, then you sink down onto it, letting it fill you completely. You moan as you feel the tip hit your cervix. Fuck, if it wasn’t there, he could probably literally fuck your womb. 
You grip his shoulders as you slowly begin to move up and down, enjoying the way your body stretches to accommodate him. It’s like you were made for each other. You were already so wet for him, there’s a vulgar squelching sound coming from your groin. 
After a few minutes of slow and shallow motions to prepare yourself, you slide all the way down again and wait. Within seconds, his strong hands are gripping your waist, and he stands up, holding you onto him. Your legs automatically wrap around him, and soon he’s holding you in midair, fucking up into you while his mouth devours yours. 
He’s going so hard and so deep that you have tears in your eyes, your face scrunching up in pain. But it feels so good, so satisfying, to have the man you love touching the deepest parts of you. Your hands are in his hair, on his neck, your mouth open and accepting his tongue and saliva, your body jerking with his powerful thrusts. 
“I love you,” you murmur after breaking the kiss. “I love you so much, Toji!”
One of his arms circles around your back, pulling you even closer, while his other hand moves to the back of your head, fingers gently threading through your hair. The contrast between the soft, affectionate gesture and his cock roughly pounding between your thighs sends you over the edge. Your upper body collapses against his chest, your arms weakly clinging to his neck as you tremble through an orgasm. His hands are still gently holding you as he thrusts into you, finally shooting his seed into your core.  
Afterwards, he carries you to the bathroom where he helps you shower, then the two of you climb into bed. Lying beside him in the dark, you look at his vague outline and say, “You won’t get tired of me after the contract ends, will you?”
He laughs. “Are you kidding? You’ll be the one kicking my old wrinkly ass to the curb in ten years!”
You sit up suddenly. “Never! I don’t care how old you are!”
He laughs again and pulls you into his arms. “I gotta tell you something,” he says in a strangely quiet voice. “A couple years ago I bought a little house a few miles outside of town. It’s nothing too fancy, but it’s paid for with the money I’ve made as a trainer. I kept thinking I’d retire and move out there with Megumi, finally be a dad, you know? But it just never happened. Now though… I’m thinking a lot about that again.”
You feel tears stinging your eyes again, and you wipe them with the back of your hand, smiling. “That sounds like a dream!”
He leans over to kiss you, his lips hitting your nose in the darkness, and the two of you laugh. You can’t wait for the training to be finished, so your future can begin. 
Tag List:
@suguguro @kaedear @onyxsphynx @poopoobuttsy @butterskyy @collectionofdolls @akaotv @witchbybirth @bloofinntoona @wasurenagusaa @tclbts @tojirin @lucyrocks86 @badbyeyoongi @97britt @aydene @lzaj19 @lyn-lotte @missthatgirl @peachedtv @ladytamayolover @nanam1nx 
275 notes · View notes
oonajaeadira · 6 months
Text
Detected
Fandom: Merge Mansion / Tim Rockford
Pairing: Tim Rockford x f!reader
Reader: Adult female. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.
Rating: T. Fluff.
Warnings: Mention of serial killer that targets women.
Summary: Nobody sees you the way Tim does.
A/N: I dunno, I just had a hankering to write for Tim and looked down my list of tropes thinking I might be able to scratch the itch and accomplish a fic for my Year of Tropes at the same time. Something hit me in the right places for a little piece of sweetness, so here we go, with SECRET IDENTITY.
This is really fluffy. Like stupid fluffy. Moreso than my regular stuff. Just let me have my little trope. This one didn't go through a lot of draft revisions, it was just a fun little thot that needed out.
Tumblr media
“Why don’t you take the afternoon off, Sunshine? Get some rest. You’ve been here ten days straight.”
Tim’s the only detective in the unit who talks to you directly, certainly the only one that doesn’t just call you ‘hon’ or ‘sweetheart’ or ‘girl.’ You’re pretty sure he’s probably the only one in the department that knows your name, but he rarely uses it. 
That isn’t unusual. You’ve always been the quiet one, the mouse, the wallflower. It’s your superpower, being able to go unnoticed. You’ve never been reprimanded, never bad-talked, never held up as a bad example.
But then, neither do you often find yourself praised or called in for opinion. Never once have you been asked to join anyone for happy hour or coffee.
So many times you’ve been standing in a meeting room and not once been addressed. So many times you’ve overheard something that perhaps you shouldn’t have just because you were below anyone’s notice.
It bothered you so much more when you were younger. Not the case anymore.
You’ve learned to love your quiet life, shuffling around the records room, carefully tagging and bagging, filling out the document cards, compiling files, taking meticulous photos of items for court cases and detective scrutiny. Nobody comes looking for you, so you get to take your time, a kind of professional meditation. At least once a week you notice a detail on a piece of evidence that you might make known to one of the team. Usually this gets you a thanks, but more often times a brush off that ends in the detective later gaining the credit for the discovery.
Tim is different. Observant. He actually listens when you bring him something of interest and asks for your opinion or your second eye. He still does that thing where he puts the pictures of people and evidence you provide up on the wall and connects it with string. He will stare at that board for hours, getting up every now and then to pace, then turning the chair around to straddle it backwards so he can lean over the back and look again, hoping to find the one connection that the string can’t touch.
And yet, even when he’s concentrating this hard, he’s fully aware of his surroundings.
So much so that he even notices you’ve slipped into the room to stand behind him--you, who goes mostly unnoticed when standing in full view of most people.
When you don’t answer him, he turns his chin back over his shoulder, his sharp profile coming into relief against the organized mess of the illuminated case wall. 
He’s so very handsome. And it’s a shame he doesn’t seem to know. Or care.
Snapping free of your musings, you finally answer. “Yeah, it’s been a busy week. I’ve still got the Murray case to document. There’s a lot of entries.”
Turning fully to look at you now, he takes his time formulating a new response. “That case is closed. There’s no hurry. You work too hard. It’s Saturday.”
You shrug and smile. “I like my job. And you're one to talk.” Nodding to the evidence wall, you step more fully into the room. “Any movement on this? Sure I can’t help you? Anything I can pull from archives?”
This is a tough one. There’s a lot of speculation as to the mangled bodies in the pictures. A new one found last night, a week old. The probability is high that there’s one club downtown that’s producing them all and a definite suspect, but the record’s clean. There’s no grounds for warrants.
He gives you one more thoughtful glance before turning back to his work. “Not unless you have anything that correlates this last one to Club 88 or to Mike Cross. But no. Thanks. Get out of here, live your life, be free. I’m gonna go grab an interview out at the pier but then I’ll be here all night.”
He’s hungry. You can see that look in his eyes, he’s close, he just needs that one connecting piece of evidence and he’ll empty the coffee pots in the breakroom tonight looking for one.
“You’re hungry, Detective Rockford. At least let me call in some takeout for you before I go? Lau’s number 22 with chicken, right?”
He simply nods. “Thanks, Sunshine.”
“You got it, Detective.”
—-
Your pager goes off two hours later.
Special case. Could use your help. Pier 13.
You’ve been waiting for the call.
Upon arriving home from the department, you’d closed your blinds and turned off the lights, pulled on the dark pants and long fitted coat, tucked your hair up under the black hood and pulled it low. Gloves. Boots. Plain and unassuming in this fall weather.
You’re able to walk out the back door of your apartment building and take a path through the alley as the sun is setting without anyone giving you a second glance.
The only piece of your disguise you truly need is the vocal changer mask, but that stays tucked in your coat pocket until you arrive at the pier.
Once you can smell the water, you take a moment to hide your face, your voice, and your identity under the dark, nondescript mask–a blank slate of void where a face should be–before stepping out of the alleys and making your way to pier 13 where Tim Rockford stands looking out over the harbor at the lights starting to come on over the bridge.
“What can I do for you, Detective?” The voice that grates out of your mask is low, warped, almost sultry.
Tim, for all his awareness, misses your entrance. This is the strength of your powers. Snapping out of his reverie, he spins to find you only feet away, your long coat fluttering in the breeze.
And an awed smile spreads across his face.
Tim is the only one on the force that smiles when you show up as the Shadow. The rest of the cops tend to startle, recoil, not understanding how you simply seem to appear out of the air, unfold from the shadows, melt into the darkness itself.
“Thanks for coming, Shadow,” he says, his trenchcoat joining in the fluttering conversation of overwear. Pulling a few pictures out of his pocket, he holds them out and you take them.
A new mangled body. A hurried photo of a man with light skin and dark hair and blue eyes. A blown-up scan of license plate. You recognize them from his evidence board but say nothing, letting him make the request.
He explains the supposed serial killings, the patterns, the suspect, the license plate that isn’t his but was caught on surveillance near a couple of the dumping grounds.
“I’m pretty sure it’s him,” he concludes, poking at the photo of Mike Cross, “but I’m lacking something damming.”
“You mean you're 100% sure it's him. You're a thorough man; wouldn't just jump to conclusions. And you want me to go hunting.”
“I’d rather you just go take a listen. I don’t really want you to put yourself in danger.”
It’s a good thing he can’t see you smile. Trust Tim Rockford to be the one detective that worries about the safety of the city’s resident secret, pacifist vigilante. 
“I’m touched by your concern, Detective. But I haven’t been caught yet. Even if danger catches a glimpse of me, I’m very good at hiding.”
“I know. But it’s only a matter of time before somebody really sees you.” He smiles a little sadly. “I wish you wouldn’t hide from me. But I know why you do.”
It should be surprising–it’s not like him to cross this line–but instead, his statement warms you. Tim has always been grateful for the Shadow’s help, respectful, believed in your ability. But he’s also come to treat the Shadow as a friend. There’s something that tugs at your heart, knowing this dedicated, handsome, intelligent man truly trusts you but also respects and admires your limitations.
If only he knew how much you wish you could tell him, show him, let him know how much you admire him too.
He only blinks when you seem to melt into thin air, becoming one with the lengthening shadows.
_____
Club 88. The back alley. A black car belonging to Mike Cross. Nobody here to notice you but the rats as you duck around the back and inspect the bumper, find a magnetized plate cover hidden underneath that matches the photo in your pocket.
There’s the connection. Now for something that threads the needle.
_____
Maskless and hatless, you simply take up a serving tray and follow Mike Cross and a young pretty thing through the swinging “employees only” door and down a back corridor of the dark, thumping night club. Making yourself busy with empty bottles on the tray, you watch him pay a man and step into a private room with the girl. The man goes to find something else to do, nearly knocking your shoulder as he passes, as if you’re simply a tower of inventory boxes or a rogue tray of dirty dishes…or just some random hostess he doesn’t have time for.
Easy.
You’re able to enter the dimmed room under the guise of bringing in bottle service. The couple doesn’t even notice you while they make out on the couch in the VIP lounge. You simply dip your hand into the pocket of the jacket he’s left on a chair and lift his wallet. 
Might as well take the gun that’s there too. Just in case.
Time to get moving while he’s distracted.
_____
Using the address on the ID in his wallet, you make your way across town.
It’s easy enough to slip past the doorman. Unfortunately though, Mike’s apartment building has security cameras on every floor. This calls for a little distraction. Easy enough. All you need is the pad of paper and pen you carry in your pocket.
Knock on door 312. Explain you’re responding to a noise complaint in apartment 313. There is no apartment 313? That’s odd. Maybe it was apartment 311? 
When the occupants of 311 and 312 speculate over the possibilities–which apartment was the loud one? Who called in the complaint? They bet it was 211 down there, what a bitch….
It’s just enough time for you to use your jiggler key to work open the lock for Mike’s apartment and slip inside. Not only have they seemed to forgotten about you, but if anyone ever plays back the security tapes, their eyes will just slide right over you and concentrate on the gossiping neighbors in the hall.
Mike’s apartment is clean and sparse. By the looks of the set up of the living room, he likes to sit in the center of the couch, put his feet up on the coffee table while he drinks his beer (water ring stains on the veneer top) and watches tv. Not much on the walls. Books on the bookshelf, but no knicknacks.
You don’t know what you’re looking for yet, but you’ll know it when you find it.
There are a few places you start. The drawers in the kitchen. The freezer. The bedside table. Shelves in the closet. Medicine cabinet. Somewhere you'd stash something unassuming but precious but that you don't want anyone else to come across and ask questions.
But it’s as you pass back out through the bedroom, and lightly push the door open a bit wider that you hear a clinking and tapping on the other side.
There, hanging off a hook on the back of the bedroom door, is a silver chain.
With five women’s rings on it.
Yahtzee.
You snap a few photos with your phone before moving through the apartment again, looking for anything else, just in case your first instincts were wrong.
But your instincts are very rarely wrong.
Criminals love trophies. Little keepsakes of their thrills. Look for a collection of something that seems out of place and you’ve probably found your clue.
You’re just about to call it good and head out when you hear a key turning in the lock.
No need to panic, you’ve got this.
As Mike enters and kicks off his shoes before making his way to the bathroom, all you have to do is stand silently beside the far side of the bookshelf.
He doesn’t even turn on the light. Even easier.
Once the bathroom door closes, you’re able to silently slip out.
“It’s only a matter of time before somebody really sees you.”
Doubtful, Tim. But I wish I could tell you how sweet your concern is.
____
True to form, Tim’s is one of the only lights burning at the office when you slide through the department well after midnight.
It’s not often that you show up here as the Shadow, but you make sure it’s only at night when most of the lights are out. Even if you’re seen engaging with one of them, the detectives all know to look the other way and not to ask questions when someone on the force has requested your services. 
They see nothing, and say less.
When you get to the back offices, you have to stop for a moment in the shadows and take in the scene.
Tim’s here in the dim room, standing at a desk full of evidence bags. The one with the knife in it lays on a lightbox, the glow of which reaches up to caress his face, dragging at his cheeks and the bags under his eyes, his brow and bottom lip succumbing to the pull of contemplation.
You have to wonder if the detective has any joys outside of his work, if he reads or paints, if he’s into woodworking or collecting memorabilia. You often find yourself wishing you had the means to learn more about him and find yourself watching him from across the office as if you could read it in the stretch of his aching neck, in the hunch of his gun-holstered shoulders. 
But you’ve grown used to your quiet life. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if someone else actually paid you enough attention to let you into their life–
“What have you got for me?” he asks, and you flinch. He hadn’t even turned around.
“Plenty," you rasp through the voice modulator. "How did you know I was here?”
“I always notice you,” he says. “And I could ask you the same thing.”
“Where else would you be?”
“I have a home.”
“Do you ever go there?”
He laughs and finally turns. “Yeah, not lately.”
Emerging from the darkness, you hand him a few photos you ran off from your phone at home, knowing he'd appreciate the analog. There's the plate cover. The ID. The chain of rings. You also hand over the gun you pinched. “Just in case you need to run a match on any casings.”
It’s here that Tim’s look grows sour. “You took this off him?” Then he tilts his head, scanning the photos. “This one…taken inside his house?”
“Yes. Most likely a collection of his trophies–”
“You went into his house??”
His intensity stops you. Something’s….wrong. “It was necessary. I wasn’t seen.”
“I told you, nothing dangerous. What if he’d come home?”
“He did.” This gains an unprecedented look of alarm from the otherwise calm and calculated man. “I told you, Detective, I wasn’t seen. I never am. That’s what I do.”
“That’s not the point, Sunshine. He murders women and dumps their bodies. This is different from the drug smugglers and counterfeit runners you usually surveil…”
He stops, registering what he just said only a couple of seconds after you do, a calm sigh of regret washing over him before being replaced by the bloom of concern.
You could choose to ignore it.
But it's useless. Tim would never let an assumption take hold as truth unless he had absolute proof. He’s the best. The best of the best and doesn’t even know it. So long you’ve wished to tell him, to make him see what you see in him, but it would mean opening yourself, becoming visible, being seen.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. This is your superpower, this anonymity, this blurring at the edges, this void of connection…
And you should back away when he approaches.
But you don't want to. 
Nor do you dodge as he slowly reaches up to remove your mask. Your hood. Fits his palm to your jaw and runs the length of a cheekbone with his thumb. “It doesn’t work on everyone, Sunshine. Not if they really want to see you.”
As his warm, weary brown eyes find yours, two thick, generous tears spill down your cheeks, two surprising hot spikes of your heart right there on your face. It’s like being thrust underwater without the chance to take a breath, the panic of suddenly being the center of someone’s attention, and you gasp for air only to release a sob, slapping both hands to your face in embarrassment.
Tim doesn’t pry your hands away, he merely runs a knuckle over one as if to say, hey, you’re still hiding.
And you realize that you are.
When you finally don’t have to be.
When you lower your guard, he’s waiting there patiently to welcome you back.
“You okay?” he asks, handing you a napkin for your tears.
Nodding, you take it and use it quietly before swallowing, trying to steady a voice out in the open. “What now?”
He looks pointedly over at his desk and gestures for you to head over there. “I thought maybe we’d start with dinner. I figured you'd come by.”
There are two Chinese takeout boxes on the blotter, both bearing a code in black ink. 
22C. His standard.
Lucky13. Your favorite. With the sauces on the side, just like you like it.
Speechless, you look at him in awe. You do see me.
And he tucks his hands in his pockets, softening back at you with a look that can only be described as Yeah.
_____
In the following days you’re able to hunt down photos of the killer’s victims that clearly display their hands and the rings that you found in his apartment.
Undercover targets are planted in the club to entice Mike Cross, and sure enough, he takes one to the back room, pays for privacy, extra for a later cleanup, but gets caught with his fingers around her throat as a whole squad breaks down the door to take him into custody.
There’s no doubt he will never see the outside of a prison again.
Club 88 is shut down and a long investigation into its ownership and practices begin. The Shadow is called in by the investigating team for your fly-on-the-wall services and at first you’re afraid that perhaps, now that you’ve been seen, that the shine of your powers has dimmed or–to be more precise–a newfound confidence makes you even brighter than before.
On the contrary, you’ve never felt more powerful or more in control of your abilities. 
Perhaps because the one person who can detect your sunshine also pours pride into your shadow.
Or maybe it’s the regular diet of Lucky Number 13 and a new morning view these days. Who’s to say?
____
MASTERLIST
CHARACTER MASTERLIST
322 notes · View notes
canuck-eh · 5 months
Text
She's a Rainbow
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader
Tags: Birthday fic for the birthday boi, implied age gap, established relationship, mild dirty talk, praise kink, smut, fluff, etc.
Summary: Just some birthday fluff and smut!
WC: 3.6k
MINORS - DNI - 18+
A/N: Hi, y'all. Thought I'd share something for Aaron's birthday. It's been a while, I hope I haven't lost all my Hotch simps!! As usual, I didn't edit or proofread this. I hope you can still enjoy it!
You walked into your bedroom and took in the sight of his tousled hair resting on the pillow.
Since retiring from the BAU, he had gotten into the habit of sleeping in a bit later. However, you couldn't help but notice that the only time he slept past nine was when you'd kept him up all night.
And, of course, you had succeeded in doing just that last night.
Jack was currently away at another soccer camp, and the sport had become a real passion for him these past years. He had shown remarkable talent, even attracting offers for various camps all over the US. Your little family was even planning a trip to the UK next summer, where Jack would have the opportunity to learn from the very best. The hope was that it might eventually lead to a scholarship for him to study there, and you couldn't be more thrilled to see how the young boy had developed into an accomplished individual, both on and off the field.
As you walked closer, listening to the gentle sound of Aaron's snores filling the room, a warm smile graced your face as you realized just how lucky you were to share your life with someone as wonderful and kind as him. However, that didn't deter you from your usual morning routine.
Your morning greeting slipped past your lips with ease. 
“Rise and shine sleepy head, half the town is probably dead!” you half-shouted with a shit-eating grin. 
Aaron had developed a newfound appreciation for television since you had entered his life and claimed the remote, and for some reason, he had taken a particular liking to The Big Bang Theory. To be fair, you knew he was more of a nerd than he let on. Still, you often incorporated running gags and jokes from the show into your morning greetings, as it never failed to make him wake up with a smile. Not that you had ever seen him wake up without a grin in the past years, his eyes always holding a glint of affection when he found yours.
You observed him follow the usual routine, turning toward the sound of your voice and locking eyes with you right as you climbed on top of him. Straddling him, you found his lips, and his arms wrapped around your waist instinctively, making your kisses along his jaw grow increasingly sloppy.
“Good morning,” he mumbled, still half-asleep but clearly content.
“It’s about to be,” you suggested as you attempted to move down him.
However, strong arms kept you firmly in place on top of his chest.
You playfully poked his chest, fully aware that there was no escape when he held you like this.
“No fair,” you pouted, feigning helplessness. “You're just too strong.”
“Whose fault is that, sweetheart? You've kept me in shape with—”
You kissed him to shut him up, mostly because he was always just as horny as you were, and you were also hopeful that his half-mast situation would rise to the challenge.
“Please… How about a little birthday treat for the birthday boy?” you asked, waggling your eyebrows suggestively as you tried again to sink under the covers.
Aaron lifted you by the shoulders, his gentle gaze and a faint smile gradually replacing the remnants of sleep that clung to his features.
“I don't need anything, sweetheart. I already have everything I've ever wanted,” he replied with a warm smile.
Damn, he looked downright adorable with the hint of grey in his hair and beard, that infectious smile, and that irresistible dimple. You were completely smitten.
“But—”
“Hmm…” he hummed, placing a sweet kiss on your nose. “You are so adorable when you pout.”
“I was just about to say you looked adorable, but then you had to open your mouth and talk. You ruined it.”
He was accustomed to your sense of humor and how you enjoyed teasing him, and by now, you knew precisely how this would play out.
Before you could even process what was happening, he began to tickle your sides, causing a surprised gasp to escape your lips. He burst into laughter as he playfully pinned you down on the bed, as you frowned at his playful expression.
“I thought we’d spent enough time learning manners last night. Do I need to teach you some more?” he asked huskily.
His eyes darkened, and you could feel his heart rate quicken beneath your hand, his pulse racing under your palm.
You made a contemplative expression, as though you were giving it some thought, furrowing your brow slightly. Aaron patiently waited, his body weight making it impossible for you to move.
“Well?” he inquired.
“Aaron Hotchner, you know how I adore your dirty mind, but if I neglect to feed you, the senior protection services might be soon knocking on our door,” you playfully quipped.
“That's it,” he declared before he shifted and gently positioned you over his knee, his warm palm hovering just above your silky shorts. “Do you feel like apologizing?”
You could hear the intensity in his tone, and you felt him grow harder. The bastard, this turned him on more than he’d ever admit. 
You shook your head, and the first slap landed a few seconds later. You knew you couldn’t moan, so you bit your lip and hoped it wouldn’t bleed.
He smoothed his palm over your ass, and then gave you another before he cradled you in his arms, his fond expression enough to make you beg for him to use your mouth.
“What are we doing today?” he asked after a while.
You smiled as you contemplated the plans you had already made. It had become a cherished tradition by now.
“The same as last year, my love. Pizza, beer, and a movie marathon,” you responded.
His expression grew even more tender, and his lips brushed lightly against your forehead, his warm breath providing a soothing sensation on your skin. “God, I love you.”
“I love you too,” you whispered in reply.
You knew you had to get up if you had any hope of not spending the day riding him, so you told him to come find you when he was ready.
With that, you left your bedroom and headed for the kitchen, going back to making his cake. 
As you worked, his arms suddenly encircled your waist from behind, prompting you to turn around swiftly, eager to keep your surprise hidden.
He tried to sneak a peek over your shoulder, but you cupped his face in your hands, determined to block his view.
“What are you making? It smells sweet and delicious,” he inquired.
He made another attempt to glimpse at your culinary creation, and given his height advantage, he was likely to succeed if you weren't careful.
“No. Go away,” you insisted.
He raised an eyebrow, silently conveying that he could see if he wanted, but you also knew he would respect your wishes. He always did.
Yet, he playfully attempted to peek behind you once more, and you had to playfully swat his chest to prevent him from getting a glimpse.
You playfully scolded him, “Mind your own biscuits, Aaron!”
His smile widened, and you cherished this moment because there was a time in his life when his smiles were less frequent. They were never absent, but they weren't as common.
And now? Now he smiled all the time.
Happy, carefree, and absolutely breathtaking.
If you weren’t so focused on making this cake, you would have tried to make him use your mouth again, but you had a goal in mind, and Aaron seemed to gather on your features that you weren’t messing around this morning.
He nodded and raised his hands in surrender. “Yes, ma'am.”
With that, he left the kitchen, and the familiar sounds of Friends starting up in the living room reached your ears.
You had succeeded in turning the most stoic man on the planet into a fan of sitcoms. Take that, Law & Order! 
Just as you were finishing up the cake and placing it in the fridge, Aaron returned to the kitchen with his hands covering his eyes.
“No peeking, I promise,” he began, his tone steady as always when he spoke the truth. “Just... Can you call me? I can't find my phone.”
You promptly grabbed your phone and dialed his number, the ringtone instantly filling the room around you.
Aaron immediately walked toward the sound, though it took a few seconds for him to locate the phone nestled in the couch.
You couldn't help but reminisce about how it had ended up lost there, but there was no time for distractions, especially when the music caught your attention.
“My ringtone for when I call you is She's a Rainbow by the Rolling Stones?” you asked.
Aaron picked up his phone and halted the call, glancing down at his feet, a habit of his when he felt a bit shy.
“Well, it seemed better than You Are My Sunshine,” he explained.
You couldn't contain your laughter at the sight of your six-foot-two man looking both shy and embarrassed.
“You're such a dork,” you teased.
Aaron looked up at you and grinned, displaying his left hand and the wedding band resting there with pride. “Your dork,” he affirmed, approaching you and planting a kiss on your forehead. “Forever and ever.”
For most people, the idea of a lifetime commitment with someone could be daunting, but with Aaron, it only filled you with excitement, as nothing seemed better than spending a lifetime by his side. You had known it from your very first date, when he brought you flowers and accidentally spilled wine on your dress.
Amid all the teasing and joking, there were also moments when he deserved more than just playfulness, and you were more than willing to offer it, especially because he always did the same for you.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, your hands finding their way to the back of his head, running your fingers through his greying hair. “My absolutely stunning old man... Sometimes, forever and ever doesn't feel like enough.”
He smiled, letting out a soft moan as your fingers worked their magic on his scalp, turning him into putty in your hands.
He kissed your wrist before meeting your gaze, a distinct glint in his eyes. You had experienced different kinds of love before, but this was different. With him, you knew you could look into someone's eyes and be certain you'd never have to wonder if you'd have a hand to hold. You had never known such certainty until you met him.
He gently brushed a few stray hairs away from your face, and your eyes fluttered shut as his lips brushed your forehead. “Some days, I truly don't know how I managed to put a ring on it.”
You patted his chest as his arms enveloped you, feeling his heartbeat as unsteady as it had been the first time you kissed him.
“I feel the same way, you know.”
Aaron grinned and brought you toward the couch, draping your legs over his lap.
You tried to focus on the television, on anything else but his hands rubbing at your feet, and while you’d never understood the appeal, you’d learned in the past years that wherever he touched, it left you breathless, aroused, and completely at his mercy. 
It was one thing to be touched, to be caressed, to feel like you were loved. But Aaron made it feel like you were the most precious thing he’d ever hold, all the time, and he was nothing if not incredibly sexy when he focused on making you feel good, regardless of where he started.
Aaron rubbed at the sole of your foot before his knuckles dug into the arch, and it had never occurred to you that your feet could make you wet, but then you knew that was an Aaron thing more than a you-thing. 
Anything this man did to you turned your panties into a puddle of wetness. 
He had no right being so fucking talented with his hands all the time, and you arched your back off the couch as he gripped your ankle, the warm touch enough to make you moan and flail in the air for more. 
“God. Someone’s about to get very lucky,” you moaned as he started doing the same thing to your other foot.
Aaron didn’t look at you, his eyes fixed on your feet on his lap. “I think I’m pretty lucky already.”
Oh, fuck it. 
You had held on this long, he wouldn’t blame you for wanting to jump his bones when he was so irresistible, right?
You practically pounced on him before he could pick up on what you were doing, straddling his lap and caging him on the couch with your legs on each side of his waist. 
He looked way too smug when his eyes roamed over your face, his hands on your thighs but not gripping like you liked.
“Any objections?”
He shook his head. “Just… You have no self-control,” he tutted.
You knew it wasn’t accusatory, he wasn’t mad, clearly. But if he wanted to play the self-control game, you were more than happy to indulge him.
“So if I do this,” you started, kissing his cheek. “Or this,” you said then proceeded to kiss the other. “Or even this,” you muttered between peppering kisses along his jaw and neck. “It doesn’t change anything? You’re still in control?” 
You sat back on his dick, doe-eyed and innocent, barely resisting the urge to bite down on your bottom lip. 
You were on the verge of gripping his T-shirt when he caught your wrists and locked eyes with you, his gaze intense and filled with a warning.
“Don't start something if you can't follow through,” he growled.
In response, you flashed him a sly, knowing smirk.
“See, I can never tell whether that’s a threat or a promise with you,” you whispered suggestively.
Aaron released your wrists and cocked his head to the side, as though challenging you to continue. “Keep going and you’ll find out,” he warned.
You readjusted to sit more comfortably, finding his rapidly hardening dick a welcome sight in those sweatpants.
“Aaron, I must say, that dick of yours is exactly why they invented grey sweatpants.”
He scoffed, clearly amused by your exaggerated attempt to lick your lips. 
“Every time I put them on…” he said, feigning exasperation.
You knew he was far from complaining. He’d always been a willing party, after all.
“Shut up,” you said gently, going back to kissing his cheeks and jaw, his hands pressing down on your hips.
He nodded. 
You started rubbing your barely there silky shorts on top of him, on his impressive erection, making it a point to slot your pussy against his dick on each rotation of your hips, brushing against the tip of him more, trying to clench around nothing as you felt him twitch in his sweatpants.
It didn’t take long for you to rut on him without managing a rhythm, too lost on the feeling of him hard and leaking under you, and he eventually shifted you effortlessly onto his muscled thigh, making sure it was hard enough for you to rub your clit on it, the friction of your panties and shorts almost enough to make you lose it.
“Look at you go,” he grunted.
He was as affected as you were, there was no doubt about it. He completely lost his mind the first time you did this, and every now and then ever since. In all your years of marriage, he'd made sure to help you get off on his thigh whenever you were aching for it.
You couldn’t help but whine when you totally lost your pace, unable to focus on anything but him twitching and grunting.
“Does my sweet girl need help?” he said, his tone low and sweet like honey.
You weren’t sure words would come out right so you nodded with a pout, knowing from years of practice that he would never deny you anything if you pouted long enough, knowing that you could make him lose control if you were desperate enough.
Aaron grabbed your hips and guided your hips, making you roll on top of his dick until he couldn’t help but thrust up into you, your wetness soaking his sweatpants through layers of clothing. 
There was an undeniable wet spot on his sweatpants, and you watched him take it in, watching the feral stare that overcame him before he gripped your waist and thrusted up with abandon, his own wet spot growing under you.
The chafing wouldn’t feel too nice in a matter of minutes, yet, too lost in the pleasure of it all, in the scent of his arousal mixing with yours, you couldn’t help but moan his name as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, a telltale sign he was either about to bite down and mark you as he came, or mutter his praise and love for you next to your ear. 
You loved both options equally at this point. 
“You’re so good for me,” he groaned, his hips picking up speed as he hit the sweet spot where your panties rubbed at your clit.
You moaned and whined at the same time, your head rolling back, but Aaron grabbed your face and brought it back so you’d look at him.
Heavy grunts and groans filled the room, a nice deep contrasting symphony compared to your high-pitched moans. Aaron moved your shirt out of the way so his teeth could sink into your shoulder, and you suddenly felt it at the bottom of your spine all through your lower stomach, the coil ripping as you crashed down onto his chest, as your pussy clenched around nothing, as you sought friction on him and your hips moved on top of him. You could feel yourself soaking him.
The waves of pleasure completely overtook you, and you couldn’t dare look down at the mess you’d surely made, at his drenched sweatpants that would be covered in your juices from the outside, with his from the inside. 
You heard him groan your name right as he shuddered, and you felt him shoot up under you, felt him be rocked by pleasure as your fingers found their way into his hair.
“I’m really going to need another pair if I keep painting them with my cum,” he declared out of breath.
“You keep wearing them. In my world, that’s asking for it,” you teased. He’d figured it out about two weeks into your relationship that those grey sweatpants drove you crazy, and he had a whole drawer of them. 
He could joke all he wanted, but he was as bad as you were.
“Pavlovian response at this point,” he replied. 
You raised an eyebrow and hummed in disbelief. “Still… It’s a good thing you haven’t opened your gift yet.”
He smiled at you right before he looked down at the mess, a faint blush covering his scruffy cheeks. 
“I’ve come full circle. Came in my pants as a teenager and now coming in my pants as an elder.”
A hearty laugh erupted from deep within your chest, his witty remarks consistently entertaining you.
He had a great sense of humor, and it was a pity he didn't often reveal this side of himself to most people.
“And when we get there…” you mused with a slight frown, as if genuinely considering the scenario. “When you come full circle and start needing diapers, I'll be the one to change them.”
“Real love is all about deciding whose diapers you're willing to change, isn't it?” he remarked.
You nodded, scrunching up your nose in agreement.
With that, you got up and went to fetch his gift, presenting it to him with a knowing smile.
He unwrapped a new tie, new sweatpants, and the certificate for blowjobs you’d spent so much time crafting.
Later, he would receive his cake, adorned with an icing drawing of a diaper and the caption, “Happy Birthday, my love.”
Then he’d find the little note on the side that would read, “A lifetime with you is worth thousands of shitty diapers.”
He’d laugh and take you to bed, teach you some manners again, but until then…
His eyes surveyed the blowjob certificates, and he got up to face you, getting in your space enough that you could smell the faint musk of him. 
“You really like having my cock hit the back of your throat that much?” he asked as if that was new information to him.
You shrugged. 
“So if I use a certificate right now and ask that you follow me into the shower…”
Your eyes widened, and he noticed, his grin growing even wider.
“Yes, please,” you added for good measure.
He pointed at his spent cock, still resting comfortably in his sweatpants. “It might take a while, I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“I don’t mind,” you reassured him.
You knew he knew, but still. 
“I know you don’t, sweetheart,” he said, grabbing your chin and smoothing his thumb over it, his eyes darting between yours. “You love being on your knees for me, don’t you?”
It was his tone and his proximity more than anything, but you were aching for it within seconds.
You shifted uncomfortably, trying to ease the tension you felt in your pussy, trying to ease the throbbing in your clit. “Please, Aaron.”
“Can I just say one thing first?” he said softly.
You nodded as his expression grew serious. 
“You’re by far the greatest gift I’ve ever gotten, and I love you with all my heart.”
A smile spread across your face, a mixture of emotions and desire overwhelming you. The deep need for him overcame everything else as you took his hand and led him to the bathroom you had shared for years, fully intent on showing him just how grateful you were for the gift of him in your life.
220 notes · View notes
stars-and-inkpots · 5 months
Note
hey! could you write a little something based on our wizards fav line "if I don't get my beauty sleep soon, i might get just a tad malcontent" - tired cranky wizard ftw! 🤣
absolutely i can! (i hear this line a lot given my tendency to do absolutely everything i can before long resting even though i very much do not need to) thank you for this idea! hope you enjoy!
Beauty Sleep | Gale x Reader
You forget that not everyone is used to so much travelling in one day. Gale is more than eager to remind you that some people would very much enjoy some rest, and soon.
Pairing: Gale/Reader
Tags: Cuddling, fluff
Word Count: 583
All things considered, Gale did try to keep his complaints to a minimum. He understood that things had to get done, and that you had to make the most of the day’s limited hours. It was, however, becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the exhaustion that was steadily consuming him. 
“We should rest these weary bones of ours soon,” Gale says to you as you walk. The rest of the group has started to slow, but the sun is still high enough in the sky that it would be too early yet to retire for the night. 
“Soon enough,” you answer. You can hear Gale’s disappointed huff, but he says nothing more. You continue on. The day has mostly been mapping out the forest, gathering supplies and clearing the path for tomorrow when you planned to move camp. It’s given you little trouble, only a few gnolls to be dealt with which was only a minor inconvenience at best. 
“We should rest soon. It’s hard to save the world while you’re stifling yawns,” Gale speaks up again after another hour. This time, the group seems to share his opinion, though none of them voice this. 
“We’ll return to camp soon. I want to explore just a little further; it will make the trip tomorrow easier.” You watch as Gale, clearly disappointed with this answer, sighs but continues to walk beside you. He trusts your judgement, and knows that you have the group's best interest at heart. “I promise we’ll return soon, my love,” you say quietly. The pet name eases the ire that grows with the pain in his knees. 
The sun has well begun its journey towards the horizon by the time Gale speaks up again. His patience, as boundless as it is, is truly beginning to wane. 
“If I don’t get my beauty sleep soon, I might just get a tad malcontent.” His tone is short and clipped, exhaustion leaving him increasingly irate. 
You smile despite yourself; as bad as you feel for the clear discomfort of the wizard, his use of the phrase ‘beauty sleep,’ you must admit, is a little funny. “Yes, I’m sorry. I lost track of time.” You look back at the others. “That’s enough for today, let’s head back.” You turn back to Gale to add, much quieter, “I am sorry, truly. I forget that others aren’t used to travelling this much in a day. Could I make it up to you with a cuddle later? Unless you don’t wish me to interrupt your ‘beauty sleep,’ that is.” He knows you’re teasing him a little, but he’s inclined to let it slide when he notices the genuine care in your words. 
“I suppose I could accept such an apology. My rest could wait just a little longer, perhaps.” 
You’re relieved to see his smile return as you walk back to camp. 
You keep your word. Once everyone has eaten and gone to their respective tents, you meet Gale in his. 
Looking just as comfortable as he always does, Gale is waiting on his bedroll, already underneath the several blankets. When he sees you, he’s quick to pull them back to make room for you to fit yourself in beside him. You wrap your arms around him, and within minutes his breathing has evened out and you can hear the faint snores that let you know he’s found sleep. You press a quick kiss to the top of his head, then let yourself drift into unconsciousness as well.
189 notes · View notes
bonny-kookoo · 6 months
Text
Jungkook
𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 | Crossed Lines
Tumblr media
Some things are better left unsaid.
Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, dystopian AU, space/Sci-fi/cyberpunk-esque, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Violence, Drama, romance, adult, angst, potentially triggering content, mentions of prostitution, fluff??, injury, I'm sorry for this one don't hate me
Length: 3k words
There is no taglist for this fic.
-> Masterlist
⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──👽── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅
You never really thought of Jungkook as the jealous type- and maybe you're interpreting his foul mood entirely wrong too.
But you've got a feeling that his clear displeasure is mostly due to the very tall and very charismatic Alien who's been all over you ever since you woke up.
"I'm pretty sure she doesn't need help eating her food, Jin." Jungkook growls, eyes a vibrant green with a little red swirling around sometimes, as he watches you on the lap of the tall Alien currently feeding you. Jungkook's arms are crossed and he honestly looks ready to tear someone's throat out- and while you're still learning what the colors of his eyes might mean, you're starting to somewhat connect certain colors with certain feelings.
"Pah, just let me enjoy this before you take her away again!" The man named Seokjin whines, pulling you a little closer. "I can't believe you found such a sweet thing.. you don't even want her, just leave her here with me!" He complains, and Jungkook's eyes turn a little hotter in color, orange burning bright as his anger seems to rise. Why that might be you're not sure- you don't understand why he's not letting you stay here either. Seokjin seems like a nice person, and Yoongi, a cat-like Alien who'd taken care of you while you were resting, told you that the three of them are all very good friends. So why did Jungkook suddenly change his mind?
"Shut up." Jungkook barks under his breath, turning his face away. "…she can stay if she wants to. Who cares." He mumbles more or less, and at that, your heart skips a little uncomfortably. In a way, you knew he wanted to get rid of you sooner or later- but to hear it too, makes it all the more real. Maybe deep down, that small hidden innocence in you had thought he was warming up to you- but maybe that was just your imagination after all.
So you shrug, and look down at your plate of food, shaking your head when Jin offers you another piece to eat.
"I can't believe that you're worse than me, Jeon." Yoongi says, shaking his head in disappointment. "That was mean, even for my standards." He mentions from his spot near the only window in the small metal shed Jin lives in, his tail swaying a little. "Humans are sensitive. You can't just say things like that." He says, before he adjusts his position, crossing his legs.
Jungkook however just scoffs, and refuses to look at you.
You truly want to say something, but your voice just comes out horribly strained, making you cough- so you just leave it, trying to clear your throat, as Seokjin holds the inhaler you got from Yoongi to your lips.
Only that the hand is.. tattooed?
One look upwards and yes, there he is- it's actually Jungkook who acted so fast, eyes a slightly stressed pale blue, as he carefully helps you use the plastic container with the medicine inside, face a mix of worry and annoyance. You just let him, for now- and decide that maybe, this is his actual issue. You're now sick, you're gonna use up a lot more resources, let alone the cost of your medicine and everything. You're no use for him, only baggage.
Jungkook sighs, sits back down before he puts the inhaler away into his canvas bag. "If she wants to stay, she can, I guess.." He says, crossing his arms again. "If she wants to come with me, she can. It's whatever." He huffs, and Yoongi sighs to himself, while Seokjin chuckles.
"Well, I guess that's as much of an invitation as you'll get, little thing." He shrugs, looking down at you.
And this time, you don't feel like running after Jungkook like a lost dog.
So you just quietly shrug, and eat the rest of your meal.
⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──👽── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅
You're still hiding in Seokjin's bedroom, upset and saddened by the fact that Jungkook is truly preparing to leave you behind, when you hear someone walk through the pearl curtain that disconnects the bedroom from the main living area of the little house. "Here." He mumbles, throwing something on the bed- a plastic box, a rubber band around it to keep it shut, you guess.
You don't react, but you hear him sigh, as he sits down on the mattress, bed dipping down a little under his weight. "At least look at it, so I know I didn't buy the wrong shit." He huffs, and you roll your eyes, before taking the scratched up box, pulling the rubber band from it. And inside-
-are two, different colored knitting needles, a small pair of scissors, and two balls of grey, thick yarn.
"So?" He urges, and you can hear him play with the keychain in his hand a little. Is he nervous? Or just impatient?
What is he really thinking about you?
Why did he buy this, if he didn't at least mildly care about you?
You turn around towards him, and tap his shoulder to gain his attention- which you get, as he turns a little towards you- clearly caught off guard when you hug him. You want to see something- you need to check if your instincts are correct with this.
And when his arm- admittedly rather awkwardly- wraps around you and pats your back, you get your answer.
So you get up, put your clothes and the plastic box into a bag given to you by Jin, and stand by the pearl curtain quietly, nodding outside.
"Are you sure?" He asks, not getting up yet. "Jin's a good guy. Yoongi visits regularly, and he's got a human partner. Knows all about human health." He explains. "I mean, the planet's climate sucks, but it's at least somewhat peaceful." He says, and you just roll your eyes, and cross your arms. "..guess that's a no." He sighs to himself, though you don't miss the warmth in his eyes as he gets up, and takes your bag from you, walking out to say goodbye to Yoongi and Jin- well, mostly Jin. Yoongi just.. quietly bumps his head against yours and Jungkook's, before he simply leaves.
But Seokjin? He goes in for the hug, and it's honestly a little funny how annoyed Jungkook seems at that.
"You'll have to stay in contact!" Seokjin whines. "I need to know she's okay, and that she eats well, and that she's not getting lonely, or sad, or-" He rants, and Jungkook groans, clumsily taking your hand in his to pull you closer.
"Yeah yeah whatever, I'll look after her just fine." He argues, before he turns with you to walk off- letting you wave to Seokjin for a bit, before he tugs on your hand. "Look ahead. You'll trip otherwise." He scolds, though he keeps holding your hand-
The moment you're both back on the ship, he immediately runs an entire scan of the system and Ship's interior- telling you that he doesn't trust the mechanics on this planet too much, and that he wants to make sure they didn't leave anything here that doesn't belong. What exactly he means by that you're not sure- but after noticing how he even physically searches your room for anything off, especially the camera up in the corner, you're starting to have an idea of what he meant by that.
and it feels oddly kind, the way he keeps you both connected with a surprising tender amount of strength.
⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──👽── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅
"Do you want to stay here or come with me?" He asks, and you shrug, taking a blanket from the bed with you to instead walk closer to him. "…I really made you clingy now, didn't I?" He sighs to himself, looking at you a bit annoyed- though the faint pink-ish hue of his eyes gives you hope that he's just trying to act tough, and not genuinely upset over the fact that you'd like to keep him company from now on.
If Yoongi was correct, Jungkook simply has trouble attaching himself to others- the cat alien had told you that he didn't have the greatest upbringing, and that it left him with permanent scars.
Scars that one might not be able to see, but they're still there.
"Alright, let's see.." Jungkook mumbles to himself, as he logs into his system's autopilot, taking over the controls as he reads through all the info flying past on the screen. It's impressive to you how quickly he can seem to soak up any information practically flying past him, and it shows you just how long he's probably been doing this.
Yet, now that you think of it, you're not actually sure what exactly Jungkook does for a living, besides selling cargo here and there. But then again, should you really question it? He's putting food on the table, and gives you a safe place to stay. Better not ask too many questions, you tell yourself.
So you instead sit down somewhere near the windows, studying the pictures of the faded paper instruction manual that came in the plastic box of knitting stuff- the language foreign to you, though some words seem to click in your mind. It doesn't seem too hard to do, and considering that you've tried it in the past, it's not that difficult to pick back up where you left off years prior.
And the entire time, you don't even notice Jungkook occasionally watching you, the sight of you happily occupied with your new present doing something special to him. After all, usually, to his kind-
gifting things is considered something only mates do for one another.
⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──👽── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅
"Hey- come here for a second." Jungkook says one morning, urging you a bit closer as you enter the command center where he already sits in his usual seat, though he doesn't seem as relaxed as he's been these past few days.
Your throat has been healing well, and the entire ship by now is filling with your little animal shaped knitting work- one better than the last, after Jungkook had picked up some other colors of yarn for you at one re-fuel stop. It's been a good handful of days now- and you feel like you're actually getting comfortable with the Alien. "I'll be turning course today. I'm.. gonna leave you with Jin for a while." He says, and you instantly furrow your brows in confusion, unsure what's wrong.
"Why?" You ask, voice still a bit raspy, but it at least doesn't hurt as much to talk anymore.
Jungkook just sighs, looking away. "It's not for long, just a few weeks. I'll pick you up before the seasons change-" He explains, but you won't have it.
"That doesn't answer my question." You say, clearing your throat after somewhat getting that small sentence out. He runs his hands over his face.
"It's.. urgh, fuck!" He groans out agitated, and it's honestly both funny and a little unnerving to see Jungkook so.. embarrassed.
"I'm-… It's mating season for my kind." He huffs out defeated, arms crossed. "And since you're a female, it's kind of.. distracting." He explains, and you take that info in for a second.
And Bolku people are a proud but reserved kind, only really staying in pairs, never in groups. But Jungkook doesn't quite fit the visual characteristics, apart from his eyes- so maybe he's a hybrid too?
"Oh." You simply answer, unsure what else to say. Well, you didn't really think about that- but yeah, you remember reading something about Bolku people's.. well, mating traditions, so to speak. Not really because you ever thought anything of it- it was just interesting to find anything to read back on earth, and when you stumbled upon a common book about foreign galactic humanoid variants, you read through it.
It's how you know that Seokjin must've been some sort of human-Shairo hybrid; with his tall body and caring nature, but otherwise rather human appearance. The short, thick and scaled tail gave him away, mostly, and you read in your book back on earth how his kind has a problem with gender in their kind. They're mostly male- females are incredibly rare to be born for some unknown reason.
What's interesting now however, is how the past few days and Jungkook's actions during them, change in nature to you. The gift of the knitting stuff. The blankets he kept bringing to your room. The way he'd cuddle you throughout the journey through Cryon- all of it suddenly feels odd to you now that you know he's near his kind's mating season.
Does that mean that those weren't acts of kindness? That you weren't making any progress at all? That he was just..
..acting on instincts?
"I can just stay in my room again for the time being." You shrug, and he notices the way your posture and tone change. He's become quite good at reading your body language and subtle hints here and there- be it the tone of your voice, or the way you avoid eye contact, or how you'd change topic if he was to talk about something that made you uncomfortable. And right now, it seems as if he said something that made you almost.. defensive. And he's not sure what.
"No, I don't want to.. lock you in there again." He shakes his head. "You're not a prisoner anymore. Or anything similar." He denies.
"Then what am I?" You ask, looking at him- and he can't help but feel a little called out by you.
"That doesn't matter." He responds, but that's not enough for you anymore. You've become bold- mostly because you're not scared of him any longer, and because he's slowly, unknowingly, nurtured your will to survive back to life.
"It does to me." You croak out, coughing right after, making him cringe as his eyes turn a concerned blue hue. But he knows not to try and do anything right now- you're on edge, and he feels as if he's arguing with a cornered animal right now, any wrong move or word enough to set you off.
"Then what do you want to be?" He asks instead, making you look at him with a gaze that just screams uncertainty.
You don't know what you want to be. Especially not what you want to be to him.
When you came onto his ship, you didn't care what happened to you. You'd given up, you were ready to take whatever was thrown at you- but now you actually want to live. You want to be alive, and most importantly, you want to stay with him, and stay on this ship, and stay in this little space where everything seems okay. The amount of safety you feel here has spoiled you at this point, causing you to feel protective over it.
You don't want to stay with Seokjin, no matter how sweet and kind he is. He isn't Jungkook, and he isn't this ship.
"I don't care!" You huff out at him, moving to sit in the middle of the control center, grabbing your blanket before you throw it over your head, and hiding underneath it as you sit down facing the large window, face barely exposed. "I'm staying." You growl to yourself, and Jungkook can't help the slight amusement tickling in his chest at the fact that you're starting to pick up on some of his own behaviors.
Though your growl is anything but intimidating. It's cute, but nothing dangerous at all.
"It's just for two weeks. Three at max." Jungkook sighs, turning on the autopilot before he walks closer, tip of his boot gently tapping your back. "Hey." He calls out, but you don't answer. "I'm talking to you."
"And I'm not." You respond, pulling the blanket close so he can't see you as he crouches down next to you to catch a glimpse. "You'll leave me there."
"I thought you wanted me to leave you?" He wonders in an oddly soft tone, but you can't help but feel as if this too is just his instincts, and not actually him.
"Shut up." You respond, and he laughs.
"You kind of sound like me." He tells you, sitting down in front of you with his legs crossed. "Doesn't fit you- so stop it." He argues, pulling on the blanket- but you got a steel hold of it. "Come on, stop being a brat-"
"No!" You bark out, scooting away from him a good bit.
"I'll pick you up again." He sighs. "Promise."
"Your promise is empty." You mumble, finally giving in as he manages to pull the edge of the blanket enough with his fingers to expose your face.
"How so?" He wonders, face clearly confused, and somewhat upset.
"Cause you said it!" You argue. "I'm distracting you because you're like- horny or whatever. That's not you. And when your.. mating season is over, you'll just.. leave me with Jin." You say, looking at the ground.
"How come you humans always get so horribly attached to things so easily?" He mumbles, as if he's mostly talking to himself- eyes distant as he looks at you, hands in his lap. "Attach yourself to Jin. Not me."
"Why?" You ask timidly, unsure what he's getting at. You're not even sure yourself what you're thinking of him. You don't know why you're so attached to him.
"Because he's.. a better fit." He shrugs. "He's nice. Knows human social norms, since he's partially human as well-"
"So are you though?" You ask, testing the waters, and the way he tenses up, eyes flashing a pale, unreadable color, gives you the answer you were looking for.
So he is a hybrid too.
Suddenly, his face seems angry, jaw clenched and tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as he looks to the side, eyes a blazing red as he gets up and walks away. "I changed my mind." He says, tapping away on his control panel. "Go stay in your room or whatever. I don't give a shit." He growls, and for some reason, you suddenly feel guilty.
So you quietly leave, door hissing shut behind you-
before it clicks, small display near it offering only a single, pulsating message.
[Locked by Administrator]
⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──👽── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅
Tumblr media
428 notes · View notes
greyhavenisback · 9 months
Note
PROOMPT!!!!!! "i'm not intimidating" "you are a bit, babe"
"I can't believe they said that," Derek mutters, mostly to himself.
"Who? What?" Stiles says, looking up from his laptop for the first time in hours.
Derek gestures vaguely towards the outside world and Stiles is on his feet in an instant and reaching for his baseball bat.
"Derek," he says, much more calmly than he feels. "Who said what? Who do I need to hurt?"
Derek gestures vaguely again. "The girl scouts selling cookies. They said I'm intimidating."
Stiles puts down his baseball bat. He can't beat up girl scouts and honestly, they have a point. "I mean, you are a bit intimidating, babe."
"I only wanted to buy cookies."
"Did you smile?"
"Yes?"
"Show me."
Derek smiles but he looks like he's never done it before and he's having trouble arranging his features into the correct position. In short, he looks unnervingly like he's going for someone's neck.
"Right," Stiles says weakly. "I think we need to work on that, buddy."
Derek's face drops again. He's never been very good at intentional smiling. Unintentional is fine, he doesn't have to think about it but that fake smiling thing, yeah, he has really not got the hang of that.
"Ok, ok, how's this," Stiles says, because he can't bear that look on Derek's face. "How about I go find the girl scouts and buy your cookies so you don't scare them anymore?"
Derek gives him hopeful eyebrows. "Thanks."
"What flavour did you want?"
Derek looks panicked because he wants all of the flavours but he can't really say that. "Lemonade," he says after a moment. It's his favourite by the barest of margins. "And I was gonna get s'mores cookies for you."
Stiles lights up. "You were gonna get me cookies too?"
Derek isn't sure how that's even a question Stiles has to ask given that Derek always keeps him supplied with his various preferred cookies, but he nods.
"You're the best," Stiles singsongs and dashes out of the loft.
He isn't sure that racing after a group of girl scouts and shouting "wait up" after them is his best look, but he seems to make up for it when he buys two boxes of lemonade, two of s'mores, and one of caramel delite for good measure, and he makes a donation to their fundraising efforts so everyone goes away happy.
Especially Derek, when Stiles gets back and presents him with not one but two boxes of lemonade cookies. He immediately opens a box and eats one, nibbling away at it like a squirrel with a treat. The rest he hides away for later.
He might have the best boyfriend ever but Stiles is a cookie stealing monster.
Derek's cookies are never safe.
(But at least Stiles replaces them. Eventually.)
*
Tags -
@poebin @ohhalefire @teencopandthesourwolf @blue-eyedbeta @halinski @fairytales-and-folklore @kikiroo @youreastargirl @princecharmingwinks @raisesomehale @rosieposiepuddingnpie @savileho @thebigoblin @nerdherderette @jmeelee @dragonink13
236 notes · View notes
punkshort · 7 months
Text
Chapter warnings: language, violence, angst
A/N: this chapter might be a little slower than the rest, but I felt like it was important to establish how they are surviving. I tried to keep it spicy and interesting but please stay with me, I believe I have some great stuff coming up :)
Chapter Ten
Tumblr media
Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak
AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)
Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.
Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters
Tumblr media
October 2003
Pittsburgh, PA
It had taken you nearly a full month to make it 400 miles, having to stop frequently and rest for a couple days here and there, but you were halfway to Chicago. Your bodies were not used to the constant exercise, and it required you to rest more than you expected. Joel suspected you were both deficient in some capacity since all you had eaten was canned and processed food for a month and exerting much more energy than normal. You were holed up in a small cabin outside of Pittsburgh, about 10 miles away from reaching the city. Joel had broken into the cabin late last night, and the two of you collapsed into bed once he confirmed the place was empty. He had planned to stay here for a couple days, wanting to make sure you were both as well rested as possible.
The next morning, Joel was looking around the small basement of the cabin, his flashlight bouncing off the dirty concrete walls while you went through the clothes left in the dressers upstairs, determining which ones were suitable to swap out. With winter fast approaching, you both needed to find clothes with longer sleeves and extra layers.
His flashlight scanned over a rusted metal shelving unit in the far corner. He walked over to inspect the items, finding mostly cleaning products, insect repellant, paint, and other chemicals. At the very bottom he found a hunting trap which he picked up to examine, pleasantly surprised to find it was still functional. He took it upstairs and placed it on the small kitchen table, then went to find you in the bedroom, where he heard you opening and shutting the dresser drawers.
The queen bed was covered in clothes, women's clothes on the right and men's on the left. On the floor you had tossed three well-worn hunting jackets, and on the other side of the room was a pile of discarded clothes that looked like they were meant for warmer months.
"Makin’ some progress up here?” he asked, bending down to take a closer look at the jackets and opening the pockets to see what was left behind. He triumphantly pulled out a few batteries and a lighter, shoving them in his jeans pocket. He picked the jacket up and shook the dust off before trying it on.
"Yeah, we got some good options. I think the guy's clothes will fit you, her clothes will be a little baggy on me but that's fine, I can do layers," you said over your shoulder as you scooped up loose socks from the top drawer and tossed them on the bed, getting to work matching and rolling them up. "Did you find anything useful?"
Joel put the jacket back on the floor and picked up a second one, trying that one on before settling on the third, which was a little big on him, but the thick leather kept him well insulated. "Yeah, actually, I found a hunting trap. I'm gonna go out a little ways and see if we can catch somethin', I think we need more protein, we've been needin' to take too many breaks lately."
"You want me to come with you?" you stood up after matching up the last pair of socks.
"Nah, I won't be long, you keep workin' on this stuff here." Joel grabbed his rifle and the trap, closing the front door behind him and setting out into the woods.
The cabin was surrounded by a thick forest but there were a few trails that must have been forged by deer given how tall the grass and narrow the paths were. Joel walked carefully into the trees, staying alert for any threats. Out this far into the wilderness, infected weren't the problem. The pair of you hadn't come across any more people since that night in his apartment a month ago but he made sure you stayed off the roads as much as possible. You weren't as quiet or withdrawn anymore, but he noticed you were becoming hardened by the world you were forced to live in. He had seen the slow progression as you both learned how to take down infected as efficiently as possible. He remembered when you first had to do it: you were so scared he could see the switchblade shaking in your hand as you snuck up behind a dormant runner. As the weeks went on and you practiced more, you became more comfortable taking them down, but he also saw the hardness growing in your eyes. He knew it was just a product of your environment and it was essential in order to survive, but some nights when he was unable to sleep, he laid awake and imagined a world where he could be a shield for you, taking all damage, and you could be your warm and sweet self again, safe under his protection.
Being out in the wild without the comfort of an apartment helped quell his feelings for you a little. He was less distracted when he had to always be on high alert, forcing his thoughts off you and onto survival. But whenever you stayed in a safe spot for a few days, like this cabin, he eventually found his thoughts wandering back to how soft your lips were against his that night, the curve of your hips in your dress, or the way you moaned into his mouth. The forced proximity and the illusion of safety usually meant his body ended up finding yours in the middle of the night and pulled you close to him. You never mentioned it, and neither did he, but he knew it was a byproduct of trying to stamp out his feelings for you. It was almost like his mind was saying one thing, but his body was refusing to obey. So, whenever he woke and found himself tangled in you once again, he didn’t allow himself to savor the moment and quickly removed himself from you before his heart swelled and he would be lost in you all over again.
It was about a ten minute walk from the cabin before Joel found a good spot to place the trap. It was near a big bush that looked to be home to some kind of animal based on the prints in the dirt. He took a pink scarf out of his pocket and ripped a piece off, tying it to the tree branch above the trap. As he followed his footsteps back, every minute or so he tore another piece off and tied it to a branch until he reached the cabin. He pushed the door open and set the rifle down by the door. He heard you singing softly to yourself in the bedroom, completely unaware he had entered the cabin. The first instinct he had was to chastise you for not being more aware of your surroundings, but the part of him that was desperate to protect you ultimately won, and instead he stood in the kitchen to listen.
You left the bedroom with an armful of rags you had made from the summer clothes in the corner, lyrics softly leaving your lips when you saw Joel standing there and yelped out of fright.
“Jesus, Joel, you scared the shit out of me!” you exclaimed before taking your pile of rags to the couch and setting them down. “How long were you standing there?”
“Just walked in a minute ago,” he replied, giving you a small smirk. “Found a good spot for the trap, I’ll check it before sundown. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” He shrugged the hunting jacket off and draped it over a chair.
You nodded and headed over to the cupboard to see what the previous residents left behind.
“Are you hungry? We have some soup here, and some canned stew. What do you want?” You turned to face him with your hand on your hip, but his gaze seemed unfocused and his thoughts far away at your question. Moments like this felt so domestic and it made him ache. What did he want? He wanted everything you had to offer. He wanted to turn back time and take back what he said to you, before he ruined everything. He wanted domestic bliss where you made him dinner and he had you for dessert. He didn’t want to be fighting for your lives while you ate expired Dinty Moore.
His gaze refocused on you and replied, “I’ll take the soup.” He reached into his jeans pocket and found the lighter from earlier and got to work setting up a small fire outside while you rummaged around for pots to heat up the canned delicacies that awaited you.
Tumblr media
Joel had just left to check the trap before it got too dark, and you were left scrubbing the pots in the sink until your fingers felt raw. You dreaded any time he left. You hated being away from him, and not because you were scared, it was something more. You figured it out when one morning about a week ago you woke up wrapped in his arms again, for maybe the third time, but that morning was when you realized you only truly slept well when he sought you out in the middle of the night to pull you close and breathe you in. You were always disappointed when he woke up and pulled away from you so fast, leaving you feeling ashamed for being the only one who wanted it to continue. You had to constantly remind yourself it meant nothing, that Joel only had wanted one thing from you by replaying how mad he got for not sleeping with him that night. He never apologized for it, and you know you shouldn’t care anymore, but sometimes when you let your thoughts wander, it bothered you.
You put the pots back in the cupboard and raked your fingers through your hair aggressively, looking out the window to see if you could spot him. You hadn’t had any moments between you like that day in the subway when you saw the heat behind his gaze as you ran your hand up his arm. You convinced yourself afterwards that you had misread the situation, that the look in his eyes was not one of passion, but one of disapproval, and the embarrassment for the way you behaved sat with you for the next week. Eventually, the embarrassment faded when your focus was redirected to surviving in the wild and learning how to take down infected. You were both becoming pretty good at it, so long as you had the upper hand and noticed them first. Only twice did Joel have to use a gun to take one down, so your ammo reserve was still well stocked. But there was something feral that triggered inside you when you watched him kill: the little curl his upper lip made when he made contact, the fire in his eyes when the adrenaline kicked in, the way the muscles in his arms moved from the force of piercing a knife through their skulls. There had to be something wrong with you, nobody should find something like that attractive.
You heard his boots walking up the small porch, but you put your hand on your gun, just in case you were wrong. He opened the door, smiling proudly and holding up a dead rabbit to show you, and set the rifle back down in the corner by the door.
“I’ll go skin it, get it prepped for later. We can finally have a real meal for dinner.” Joel said, still holding the rabbit in his hand. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his smile faltering a bit when he noticed your expression seemed a little distant. You shook your head and smiled.
“Nothing, I’m fine, just distracted today,” you assured him, then turned around to find a small bag of rice you had seen next to the soup earlier. “I’ll make this to eat with dinner.” You plopped it down on the counter and went back to the bedroom to review the clothes you had set aside. Joel’s eyes followed you until you disappeared around the corner. He could tell something was wrong, but he knew better than to push it.
Joel was right about needing more protein and rest. You both felt recharged after just two nights but allowed yourselves the luxury of one more night indoors before heading off towards Pittsburgh. The morning you planned to leave was when Joel had let his guard down and you awoke entwined with him again. It was early, the sun hadn’t even risen yet. You knew the longer you let him do this, the more hurt you would ultimately inflict upon yourself, but as hard as you tried you just could not bring yourself to be the one to end the embrace. So, you squeezed your eyes shut and willed yourself back to sleep.
Tumblr media
Joel stirred when the sun shone into his eyes through the thin curtains, squinting and yawning. As usual, he detached himself from you quickly, frustrated with his subconscious once again. After using the bathroom, he went outside to start a fire. The air was crisp and there was a sharp autumn wind that took his breath away. He huddled in his new jacket and shifted from foot to foot as he waited for the fire to flare up. He looked up into the sky, trying to detect if any rain would be heading your way, but the forest blocked most of his view. He heard the cabin door swing shut and twisted around to watch you walk down the steps wrapped in one of the other hunting jackets and carrying a kettle in one hand and the jar of instant coffee in another. He reached out to take the items from you so you could go back inside and grab two mugs and a spoon. He sat down on one of the thick logs used for stools that were surrounding the firepit and waited for the water to boil. You came back out with the mugs but also had a couple bowls and packets of instant oatmeal.
“’Morning,” you greeted groggily, setting the items down on one of the empty logs and choosing a spot next to him. You yawned, looking around the forest and buried your face in your coat when the wind picked up.
“Sleep ok?” Joel asked you, knowing full well he was setting you up to ask about the way he woke up clutching you, but much to his relief, it seemed as though that topic was never brought up.
You nodded, saying, “Yeah, better than usual.” And left it at that.
Neither of you were morning people and generally didn’t speak much until coffee hit your system. You had been lucky so far and found reserves of it at most of the places you stopped, but you had to dip into the stash from your apartment when you made camp in the forest. You sipped your coffee and ate your oatmeal in silence.
“Next time we find a sporting goods store, we oughta look for a bow and arrow, somethin’ silent,” Joel mused as he scraped his bowl. “We should learn to hunt out here. With winter comin’, it would be a good skill to have.”
You agreed, grabbing both bowls and the kettle while he picked up the mugs and snuffed out the fire. It was probably pointless, but you cleaned your dishes and put them back. It was unlikely the owners of this cabin would find it again, but it just felt wrong to leave things messy. This cabin provided for you both when you needed it and keeping it clean and in its original condition felt like the best way to thank it.
After breakfast, you packed up all your new clothes and replenished any food and rags you could fit in your packs and headed back out on the trail towards Pittsburgh. The forest was thick and lush, and offered a lot of cover, so you were able to make decent time getting to the city, arriving in the early afternoon. You approached a cliffside, stopping there to eat lunch and rest for the first time since you left the cabin. Joel didn’t want to start a fire and attract attention, so you ate some granola bars, peanuts and shared a can of peaches while you surveyed the city in the distance.
“So, what’s the plan?” you asked him, taking a sip from your canteen.
“Well,” he began, shoving the wrappers from the granola bars into his backpack, “I figure we should steer clear of the city proper best we can, especially the QZ. They won’t ask questions; they’ll just shoot on sight if they see anyone.”
You looked up at the sun in the sky, trying to determine the time. “We will have to find somewhere in the city that’s quiet, we won’t make it through before sundown.” You told him, looking back from the sky to meet his gaze. He nodded, impressed.
“Yep, you’re exactly right. Good girl.” he said, the compliment making you flush. “If we stick to the outskirts, maybe we can find a small shop or somethin’. But we’re gonna have to take turns takin’ watch, I don’t trust bein’ this close to soldiers.” he warned you, and you nodded in understanding. After you had spent a few minutes resting, Joel stood up, checking his revolver and tucking it back into his pants and zipping his backpack closed. You followed suit, shoving a rag back into your pack that you used to wipe some sweat off your forehead, and you both soldiered on towards the city.
Tumblr media
It was approaching dusk as you and Joel finished clearing out a gas station in a quiet part of the city. There were only three runners inside, and you made quick work of taking them down silently. You helped Joel drag the last body into the men's bathroom, closing the door behind you. Joel wasn't thrilled with the building: it was filled with huge broken windows and left you too exposed for his liking, but the sun was waning, and your choices were limited. There was a small office tucked in the corner that you had emptied of the rolling desk chair and a few boxes of receipts so you could spread out your sleeping bag on the floor. Joel insisted on taking first watch, and you propped the door to the office open with one of the boxes so you could hear if there was any trouble before tucking yourself in.
Joel sat on the rolling chair by the front door, hiding in the darkness behind an aisle, every so often standing in a crouch to glance out the large windows for any movement. He was getting tired, but he still had a couple more hours left on his watch before he woke you. In an effort to keep him awake, he wandered over to the small electronics section behind the cash register, perusing the items on the shelves. His gaze settled on a Timex analog watch. He pried open the package and attached it to his wrist, adjusting the time to match the clock on the wall, assuming it was correct before sitting back down in the chair.
You had about 20 minutes left before he planned to wake you up. Joel was just finishing some beef jerky when he saw flashlights bouncing off a building about a block away. He straightened up in his chair, tossing the bag of jerky to the side, and hoisted the rifle onto his shoulder so he could see through his scope. He watched behind the aisle as a group of four men walked down the street in the direction of the gas station. He could see they were armed, noting knives in their boots, pistols holstered at their hips and two of them held military grade assault rifles. As they came into view, Joel scanned their clothes for any type of military insignia but found none. How did they get those assault rifles?
They were getting closer, but Joel still couldn’t tell if they were planning on entering the gas station or if they were just passing through. His hands began to sweat as he gripped his rifle tighter, his body tense and ready to strike. They were about 50 yards away when one of the men laughed at something one of the others said. The rest immediately shushed him, but it was too late. They froze as an unfamiliar noise echoed through the air from a dumpster they had passed half a block ago. Joel frowned, unable to identify the noise, but based on the reactions of the men, they knew. They whipped around, their backs now to the gas station, all four aiming their guns in the direction of the noise. It sounded like a high-pitched screech mixed with a gasp, then a distinct click, click, click. He heard one of the men swear under his breath, his voice sounding shaky as he shifted his weight back and forth nervously. The one next to him tried to get him to be quiet, but his nerves got the best of him, and a shot rang out, making Joel jump in surprise. In his peripheral, he saw you fly out of your sleeping bag, scrambling for your gun. He crouched as low as he could without sacrificing speed, and made his way over to the office, wrapping his hand over your mouth as you twisted around about to shout out to him. He put a finger against his lips, and only when you hastily nodded did he slowly remove his hand, turning back around to hide behind the front counter with you peeking over his shoulder, watching the scene unfold.
Two infected came ambling towards the group. At first, they stumbled and were slow, but when one of them shifted his weight and slid on some loose asphalt, they both let out a horrific scream unlike anything you had heard before and charged towards the group. Neither of you could understand the creatures you were seeing: they had a fungus growing all over their bodies but primarily on their heads, a mouth was the only facial feature you recognized since the fungus had completely grown over the rest of their faces. Blood had stained their throats and chests, their clothes were ripped and barely hung on, and underneath their skin looked wrinkly, but upon closer inspection, it appeared to be more layers of fungus.
The assault rifles were spitting bullets and bouncing off the clickers, as if the fungus acted like some type of armor. One of the clickers jumped on the man who had slipped, viciously ripping into his throat while its fingers dug animalistically into his chest and blood pooled in the street below him. Another man saw his opportunity and pressed his pistol to the back of the clicker’s head, firing and watching its body drop to the pavement. Then without hesitation, he aimed his gun at his friend’s head and fired, his body jerked once and stilled. In the meantime, the second clicker had made short work of the other two men, one already ripped apart on the ground while it continued its assault on the other. The man did the same thing: walked up and shot the clicker in the back of the head, and for good measure shot the other two men on the ground. He was now the last man standing, panting for breath as he bent over to rest his hands on his knees. That was when he noticed the blood seeping through his jeans and trickling down to his sneakers.
“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, sitting down in the road to lift the pant leg. Joel could see the telltale imprint of teeth and blood when the man aimed his flashlight at his leg. He dropped the pant leg back down and hung his head between his knees. Joel tightened his grip on his rifle, expecting the man to come to the gas station in need of first aid, but before he could blink, the man lifted his pistol up to the side of his head and fired, dropping lifelessly to the side and joining the pile of dead bodies in the road.
Joel twisted around to try to shield your eyes, but it was too late. You let out a shaky breath, one tear sliding down your cheek as you looked up at him, his face full of concern. His eyes traveled down and reached his hand out to cup your face, his thumb gently wiping the tear away. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you had to resist the urge to lean into his touch.
"You alright?" he whispered to you in the dark. You nodded, breaking the contact and standing up.
The whole attack took less than five minutes. Joel approached the broken window and leaned out, listening intently to see if the noise had attracted any more infected or people. You waited as Joel went to each window multiple times to confirm nothing else was around. Satisfied, he turned back to you, your eyes wide and still gripping your gun at your side.
"I don't think anyone else is around," he said, placing the rifle next to the office chair. You nodded, tucking your gun in the back of your jeans.
"What the fuck was that?" you asked, staring at the bodies. "So these things are evolving now?"
"Seems that way," Joel answered, leaning tiredly up against the wall. He fought to keep his eyes open, but you could see he was exhausted.
"Go get some rest, I got this," you told him, "I'll wake you if I hear or see anything at all, I promise."
Joel wanted to resist and tell you he wasn't tired, but a yawn pushed through and gave him away. "You sure?"
"Yeah, go ahead. You need your rest, and we have to get out of this city tomorrow." You waved him off towards the office and went to sit in the chair after you grabbed his rifle, using the scope to get a better look at your surroundings.
Joel didn't bother rolling out his own sleeping bag, he just tucked himself into the one you were using, your scent enveloping him as he drifted off.
Tumblr media
The sun rose about an hour ago. You waited as long as you could before deciding to wake Joel. He seemed so tired last night, you wanted him to get as much time as he could, but you knew you needed to leave. Once you got back into the forest, you could rest again. You went to the back office, carrying a to-go container of dry cereal in one hand, and found him snoring on his side with his back to the door. You popped a few pieces of Cinnamon Toast Crunch in your mouth and leaned down to gently shake his shoulder.
Joel whipped around at your touch and grabbed your wrist firmly, his eyes wild. You dropped your cereal in surprise.
"Joel! It's me," you yanked your arm, but he still held your wrist in his grasp and it was starting to hurt. "Joel!" you said again as loud as you dared. He finally realized and let you go, stumbling back a bit as you rubbed your wrist.
"Shit, sorry, must have been havin' a bad dream, you alright?" he asked worriedly, opening the sleeping bag and reaching forward to examine your wrist. He brushed his thumb tenderly over the red mark he left, the gesture making you melt and leaving you with a pang in your stomach.
"I'm fine, it's ok," you said, taking your wrist back and turning away from him, trying to create some space. "We should get going, eat something quick and I'll refill our packs with any supplies I can find."
"You sure you're ok?" he eyed you carefully. He hated how you shied away from his touch. You nodded, opening up another cereal from the shelf and continued to eat while you inventoried the food in your packs.
You shouldered your backpacks and guns after you ate, getting ready to head out. After stepping out onto the road, Joel frisked the dead bodies and picked up some more ammo for your handgun, along with two extra flashlights. He checked the assault rifles, too low on ammo for him to consider taking one, but he did remove two of the knives and sheathes strapped around their ankles, handing a set to you. The roads seemed quiet, so you took advantage and got a move on, silently threading your way through the city.
Tumblr media
November 2003
Cleveland, OH
The weather was turning cold and rainy, even a couple nights leaving a dusting of snow that melted early the next morning. You trudged along behind Joel in the pouring rain, trying to stay hidden and dry by walking underneath a raised highway. It was risky, being close to the roads, but Joel didn't see much choice. The weather hasn't been cooperating for a couple days now, and your journey had significantly slowed down. He glanced at his watch, seeing it was around 4pm. It was getting darker earlier now, and the storm clouds just made it worse. He sighed, shaking the water droplets from his curls, and looked around. You were near an exit ramp. He saw it led to a suburban area maybe two miles away, clusters of smaller one story homes that the builders made as close as possible to one another in order to sell more houses.
"C'mon, this way," he said over his shoulder, bringing you out of your reverie. You looked in the direction he was leading you and quietly celebrated to yourself. You were tired and soaked, you didn't want to set up camp outside again and the possibility of sleeping on a mattress gave you a second wind.
The two of you hid in some thick decorative bushes looking down a road called York St. All the houses looked very similar and close together, the biggest differences being the color the owners had chosen for the siding. Joel had kept watch for about an hour in this position, waiting until it got dark so he could see if any of the houses had flashlights or lanterns inside. You were squatting next to him, trying to control your shivering but the rain was pouring down hard, and your clothes were dripping wet, even under your jacket. Your teeth chattered as you inadvertently leaned against him for some warmth. Focused intensely on the homes in front of him, Joel's body tensed at the unexpected contact. He glanced down at you and saw your soaking wet hair and your lips a darker shade than normal.
“Alright, let’s see if we can get into this one right over here, follow me.” he said, helping you stand into a crouch as you jogged over to the yellow house on the corner. Joel peered inside the windows for a minute while you stood watch with your arms crossed, keeping an eye out for any light or movement on the street or houses. You heard a snap behind you, and you turned to see Joel had used his large hunting knife to break the doorknob. You sighed with relief as you followed him inside, shutting the door behind you.
You swung your flashlights around the room, Joel rushing to the windows and closing all the curtains as you inspected the house. It was small: a living room, kitchen, one bathroom and two bedrooms. Joel went down into the basement to make sure it was clear while you emptied essentials from your pack in one of the bedrooms. You pulled out a somewhat dry set of clothes and tucked them under your arm, heading towards the bathroom. You took your jacket off to hang up on the shower rod to airdry and got to work peeling the soaking wet clothes from your body. You figured you could just toss the shirts you were wearing and pick up new ones here, but you really liked the jeans you had so you did your best to lay them out to dry in the tub.
After you put some dry clothes on, you started to feel a little better, but you still couldn’t shake the shiver in your bones. Joel mirrored your actions after he came up from the basement, changing into fresh clothes and hanging up the wet ones to dry, making sure to take the keychain out of his pants pocket and transferred it to his new ones, and then met you in the kitchen where you were rifling through the cupboards to see if there was anything worth eating. You pulled out a bag of trail mix, some canned tuna, and a few cans of mixed fruit, setting them on the small table while Joel rooted around for some forks.
You were hungrier than you realized and ate quickly, all the miles you walked today catching up with you.  Joel finally broke the silence after he finished a can of fruit.
“Which room did you want to sleep in?” he asked. This was the first time you stayed indoors where there were two sizeable beds. He wanted to give you the option, give you your space. You kept your gaze trained down at the bag of trail mix in front of you, considering his words. You knew he was giving you a choice, and it was completely up to you now on what the sleeping arrangements would be.
“I liked the room I put our backpacks in, why don’t we stay in that one.” you replied, still not looking up. We. Joel’s pulse sped up and he tried to hide his grin. You made the choice to stay the night with him, you wanted to be with him. It was probably just a habit for you, or maybe you were afraid to be on your own, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to be apart from you, either, regardless if his reason differed from yours. 
That night, he heard you softly snoring, laying on your side with your back to him like usual. This time he deliberately turned over and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him. He breathed in your scent and nestled his face at the back of your neck as you let out a contented sigh, and small smile played across his lips as he closed his eyes.
Chapter Eleven
Tumblr media
Taglist: @chiogarza.
Tumblr media
213 notes · View notes