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mononijikayu · 23 days

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too sweet — ryomen sukuna.

His gaze did not waver as he leaned in, the intensity of his eyes locked onto yours, communicating a depth of emotion that words could scarcely convey. You felt his breath against your skin, warm and inviting, before his lips met yours in a soft, exploratory kiss that spoke of a thousand unspoken promises. The gentleness of the kiss was a stark contrast to the fierce battles and harsh realities that both of you faced daily; here, in this moment, there was only gentleness, only love.

GENRE: Heian Era to Shibuya Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Harm, Depiction of Blood and Wounds, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Portrayal of Misogynist And Degrading Acts and Language;

masterlist

ashes of love

song: too sweet by hozier

note: i was distracted writing this because my mother came from thailand and brought home the best sandwiches from 7/11 thailand. i just??? i think i fell in love. other than that, they've grown up and fallen in love for each other!!! let's see how their love story <333 mwah <333

HE’D NEVER THOUGHT HE’D EVER BE IN THIS POSITION SEVEN YEARS LATER. As the wind caressed his face, Sukuna's stern gaze took in the increasingly familiar landscape unfolding before him. The languid rustle of cherry blossoms caught in a spring breeze, their petals scattering whimsically, began to ease the tension in his shoulders. The lively calls of fisherfolk, a harmonious chorus that had once been foreign to his ears, now beckoned warmly from one end of the bustling docks to the other.

Approaching the land, the sight of double herons embroidered on rich, silken purple flags fluttering against the wooden decks of the patrol ships struck a chord within him. A subtle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth—a rare, involuntary expression of contentment. For years, the concept of home had been an alien idea to him. As an orphan boy, he had never known a consistent backdrop, nor had he felt a compelling need to root himself in a place that promised permanence.

Yet, here he was, years later, feeling the weight of reformation. Ryomen Sukuna had wrestled with the need for a place to call home for many moons, and now, as he stood on the precipice of return, he found it waiting for him. Home, once a strange and elusive notion, had slowly woven itself into the fabric of his existence, coloring his world with a sense of belonging he had never dared to imagine before.

The familiar sights and sounds that he had once observed with detachment now welcomed him with the quiet affirmation of arrival. Home was no longer just a place, but a living tapestry of experiences and memories that, against all odds, had claimed him as its own.

Sukuna hadn’t anticipated that his mission would stretch out so long; after all, the curse wasn't particularly formidable. However, as time passed, the whispers of his prowess in jujutsu began to permeate far and wide. You had always cautioned Sukuna to maintain discretion in his work—reminding him that a Ryomen does not boast nor seek glory in fulfilling his duty.

He vividly recalled the countless times you made him write those words repeatedly whenever his confidence edged into arrogance. Hiramu had ingrained this principle deeply, reiterating it time and again, especially when Sukuna found himself kneeling in penance for any youthful misdeeds.

Despite this, the enthusiastic accolades and expressions of gratitude from those he helped, intertwined with your praise, had become a secret indulgence for him, a reward he guiltily cherished. He was well aware that his rising fame likely irked other clans.

They were losing clients, gifts, and, most crucially, influence—a fact he was sure had not escaped the ears of clan leaders who probably complained to your father over the past seven years. Yet, Sukuna remained indifferent to their displeasure of these foolish, pitiful clans; his primary allegiance was to you and your interests. And to you, it was the prestige of the clan.

Thus, he continued unabated, accepting mission after mission. To prove himself. To hone his jujutsu. To serve you. Even though he disliked being away for extended periods, he still did what he must. He felt you needed him more than those he aided, but you smiled at him each and every time, telling him to go.

You told him you were proud of him, even before he left. Each mission must be impeccable. Your name was on the line, as much as your honor was. He was a part of you. And so, he had to do well. He had to be stronger. He had to be greater.

The thought of disappointing you was unbearable to him. He couldn't risk drawing your ire, not when he yearned so deeply for the comforting touch of your hand in his once more. It was as painful as to see you harmed in the field, doing the dirty work of the elders who can’t be bothered to exercise curses themselves. His devotion to you dictated his actions, guiding him through a tangled web of duty and desire, each task performed a step in the dance of his allegiance, bound by the intricate threads of loyalty and love.

As Ryomen Sukuna approached the end of the pier, his silhouette was etched sharply against the setting sun. His white and red haori flew against the wind, the herons dancing against the exquisite silk. His stride was purposeful and his presence commanding, causing a stir among the few who lingered in the vicinity.

He supposed the town’s folk will never get used to the intensity of his presence. But he did not care. A lone servant dressed in Ryomen silk wool waited there, his head bowed respectfully as he anticipated Sukuna’s arrival. The moment Sukuna's footsteps halted before him, the servant looked up slightly, maintaining a posture of deep respect.

"Sukuna-sama," the servant began, his voice steady yet imbued with a palpable tension, aware of the importance of this encounter.

Sukuna's eyes narrowed slightly as he surveyed the servant. "I was expecting someone else to wait for me." he stated, his tone cool and imposing. He did not say your name, for risk of your reputation. “But it seems you were on time. Unlike last time.”

The servant swallowed, a hint of anxiety flickering across his face. "My apologies, Sukuna-sama. It would seem that Mikoto-sama was preoccupied accompanying Gojo-sama and Lady Hiromi on their ride. They were—"

Sukuna raised a hand, cutting him off mid-sentence, his displeasure evident on his features. As time went on, his annoyance of Gojo Suzaku had turned into hatred. "Why is clan leader Gojo in Hida? And did you say it was now Hiromi–sama accompanying him?" His voice grew colder with each word, and a shadow seemed to cross his features.

"Yes, Sukuna-sama," the servant hurried to explain, sensing the growing storm. "They were engaged in matters of the clans, discussing important matters. But Hiromi–sama seemed uneasy and went for a ride. Gojo–sama came along, to continue their conversation.” Sukuna's jaw tightened, and he took a moment to compose himself. The thought of Hiromi spending time with Gojo, in such intimate discussions concerning such intimacy, stirred a tumult of feelings within him. His voice was controlled but sharp when he finally spoke. "I see. And was this meeting arranged?"

"It was planned, Sukuna–sama. Gojo-sama is here for business with Isamu–sama," the servant replied, his eyes downcast, wary of Sukuna’s reaction. ”The annual clan gathering will be hosted here in Hida, after all. Gojo–sama thought that he would discuss the matter with Isamu–sama and Hiromi–sama.”

Sukuna processed the information, his mind racing with thoughts of Hiromi and Gojo together, the implications of their meeting stretching beyond simple preparations. A surge of possessiveness and an unspoken fear gripped him—emotions he wasn't accustomed to confronting. Jealousy, he was certain, among them. But he would not let them be expressed out loud.

"Very well," Sukuna said tersely, his demeanor calm but his eyes betraying a storm brewing beneath the surface. "Make certain to inform Hiromi–sama that I had returned. Have a rider sent out, if you must.”

"Of course, Sukuna-sama," the servant responded, relieved to have been spared Sukuna's wrath but noting the undercurrent of tension.

As Sukuna turned to gaze out over the water, his mind remained on Hiromi. The servant, recognizing the dismissal, bowed deeply and retreated, leaving Sukuna alone with his thoughts. The tranquility of the scene before him contrasted starkly with the turmoil within, as he grappled with the complexities of his feelings—a mixture of protectiveness, entitlement, and a burgeoning realization of deeper emotions towards Hiromi that demanded his attention and perhaps, his action.

He purses his lips and crosses his arms.

It was not easy to feel all these at once.

But he thinks it's just what it truly was, to him.

The madness of love, that’s what it truly is.

With you, love was the unknown bountiful sea.

FATHER’S WORDS RANG OUT YOUR EARS OVER AND OVER AGAIN. As you rode atop your horse, the weight of recent events hung heavily upon you. The shock of your father's firm decision still clung tightly to your mind, refusing to dissipate. You felt a deep sense of unease; even the horse’s steady gait beneath you and the surrounding sounds of clan leader Gojo's voice failed to draw your attention or stir your passions. It seemed inevitable, this moment.

For the first time, your father had exerted a true force over your decisions, and as his vassal, he had treated you with an uncharacteristic lack of deference. You pressed your lips into a tight line, realizing it was perhaps overdue for him to assert his will over yours. You were no longer in the flush of youth, yet remained unwed and without an heir to carry on your father's legacy.

Most women of your age in your position would already have children; indeed, your mother often joyously remarked how your Fujiwara cousins had dutifully fulfilled their roles, providing heirs for their husbands. But your situation was far more complex. You were not merely your father's daughter; you were his chosen heir.

Your life and choices were inexorably tied to the clan's future. Whether in sickness or in the throes of war, your existence was a matter of clan continuity. Now, with the pressure mounting over your lack of a spouse and an heir, it seemed your father could no longer shield you from the council's increasingly pointed discussions.

Each council meeting, you knew, brought with it brooding deliberations over your future and the future of the clan. The need for you to marry and produce offspring was not just a familial expectation but a strategic necessity. What good was a clan, after all, if there were no descendants to continue its legacy? The question haunted you, echoing the stark reality that your personal desires were secondary to the clan’s needs.

As you contemplated this enforced path, a mixture of resignation and defiance took root within you. You understood your duty and the importance of your role within the clan, but the thought of a marriage arranged solely for strategic purposes—devoid of affection or choice—chafed against your deepest desires for autonomy and respect.

The landscape around you blurred into a backdrop for your turbulent thoughts, each hoofbeat of your horse a reminder of the relentless march toward a destiny chosen not by you, but for you.

This imposition on your personal freedom was a stark reminder of the sacrifices demanded by power and position. As the future clan leader, your personal happiness was intertwined with strategic alliances and clan survival. This realization did not come easily or without resentment, but as the land stretched out before you, you knew you must find a way to navigate these complex waters, preserving both your father’s legacy and your own integrity.

Lost in your own thoughts, Hiromi barely noticed the scenery changing as they approached the heart of the clan territories. It was Gojo's voice, gentle yet tinged with concern, that pulled her back to the present.

"Hiromi, are you alright?" he asked, his eyes searching hers for any sign of distress. “You seem lost in thought there. What's on your mind, little heron?"

Startled, you blinked, refocusing on the man riding alongside you. Suzaku Gojo had always been more than just a clan leader; he had been a mentor and, at times, a confidant. You had grown up with him as much as your brother had. He was a thankful constant in your life. But his presence too was comforting.

He was your better in such concerns of life, one who had experienced them more readily than you had. He was, if anything, someone you trust, on the same level as you do with your uncle and Sukuna. Perhaps, even more.

"Yes, I'm just... considering everything that's happening," You responded to him, blinking slightly. His eyes did not waver in that concern. Your voice steady but your eyes betraying the turmoil inside. “Father had never been forceful about the idea of marriage before. The council of elders was another thing, but well, father was always another.”

Gojo nodded back at her, his eyes softly gazing at you. “It’s understandable. Your father has thought to give you the same freedoms as that of a man, to choose your intended. It is your right as heir.”

“It is my right.” You gently reiterated back to him. “But to see him fold like that….”

“I shall say this, I do understand your father’s concern.”

You raised a brow at him. “In what way?”

“You are his only heir now—”

“Sukuna is one of his heirs.” You retorted back to him, urging your horse forward again. “He is my uncle’s son. He has a name. He has the power, the strength. He can be my heir.”

Suzaku sighed, “But he will not be inheriting the blood of your father. Sukuna is one of you but–”

You turned to him sharply. “There are no buts, no ifs. He is one of us. He is my kin. That is why this is preposterous.”

“It is not truly as preposterous as you think.”

“Says the man who is a bachelor by choice.” You snickered back at him sharply. Suzaku laughed. You sighed. “How do men have more choices than women?”

Gojo's laughter faded into a knowing smile, an acknowledgment of the sharpness in your words. His gaze, still filled with a mixture of respect and understanding, remained fixed on you as your horse picked up pace alongside his.

"Indeed, I have chosen to remain a bachelor," Gojo conceded with a nod, the lines around his eyes deepening with his smile. "And you're right; men often do face fewer constraints in these matters. It's an imbalance, rooted deep within our traditions.”

Your frustration was palpable, the reins tight in your hands as you navigated the uneven path. "And yet, here I am, expected to marry not for love or even respect, but for alliance and convenience," you said, your voice tinged with bitterness. "Is it so wrong to want more from life than strategic marriages?"

Gojo's expression sobered, his horse slowing to match the contemplative pace of your own. "It's not wrong at all," he replied sincerely. "In fact, it's a sign of your strength and your understanding of what true leadership involves. It's about merging duty with personal happiness, which is a difficult but not impossible balance to achieve."

“How would you know?”

“I was a child born out of love.” Gojo retorted back to you, with a prideful smile. You rolled your eyes at him. “It’s not entirely impossible for you to find some poor piss sod of a second son with good blood as your consort.”

You glanced at him, the setting sun casting shadows across your path, mirroring the complexity of your thoughts. "Certainly not the Zenin second son, if that is who you imply," you murmured dismissively. “At the very least, they should let me choose. They handed me a list, but they must ‘access’ him if he is indeed worthy of me.”

Gojo took a breath. "Your father is in a difficult position. As much as he values your freedom, your choice, he also faces the burden of ensuring the clan's future stability. The council made him realize that. Your marriage isn't just about you or him; it's about the entire clan's lineage and the alliances that will sustain it into the future."

"The weight of legacy," you sighed, the realization settling in like a cold blanket. "And what of Sukuna?" you asked, turning to your friend. "You say he cannot be the heir, but he has the strength and the respect of many within and outside our clan. He has the Ryomen name. Isn’t that worth something?"

"Sukuna is indeed capable," Gojo agreed, "and his contributions are invaluable. But leadership of a clan as prominent as yours, involves more than personal strength. The council will never approve of putting you aside. Woman you may be but you are their kin. And most blessed of the gods, with your powers. They’d not risk handing that over to another bloodline. Sukuna, while respected, will never gain the approval of the council. You know that too well, Hiromi."

You did know that well.

But you did not wish to believe it.

You wished that it was all too easy.

As you rode alongside Gojo, the silence stretched between you, filled with the distant sounds of nature and the soft thudding of your horses' hooves against the soft earth. Your mind churned with thoughts, particularly of Sukuna, and the complex web of emotions that his potential marriage stirred within you. The idea of him choosing a partner, possibly from outside the clan, and the resulting distance that it might create, unsettled you deeply.

You had always relied on Sukuna, not just as a cousin or a fellow warrior, but as a pillar in your life—a constant presence whose strength and understanding had often been the anchor in your turbulent role as heir. The thought of him being tied to someone else, of sharing the bond you valued so much with another, felt like a quiet threat to the stability you depended on.

In the reflective quiet of your ride, you realized how much you needed him to remain close, both physically and in loyalty. "If Sukuna were to marry," you finally spoke, breaking the silence, "I hope it would be someone from within our clan." Your voice carried a mix of hope and a subtle plea, laden with unspoken reasons. Suzaku did not say anything, if he had noticed.

Gojo glanced at you, noting the undercurrent of concern in your tone. "Keeping him close would certainly be beneficial for the clan, and for you," he acknowledged. "Sukuna’s talents and his loyalty would be best served within the clan, continuing to strengthen our core."

"Exactly," you agreed, feeling a slight relief at Gojo’s understanding. "His marriage within the clan would ensure that he remains integrated in our affairs, accessible, and involved. It’s not just for personal reasons," you added, though your voice faltered slightly, betraying your personal stake in the matter.

Gojo nodded, recognizing the dual layers of your concern—both for the clan and for your own connection with Sukuna. "It’s a strategic and personal hope then," he observed wisely. "But remember, Hiromi, as much as we plan and hope, some things will ultimately be Sukuna’s decision to make, just as some of yours are yours alone. Even as his lady and he your servant — you will always be two separate souls.”

You absorbed Gojo's words, feeling the gravity of their meaning settle heavily upon you. Yes, Sukuna had his own will, his own life to lead, and while your paths were intertwined by blood and duty, they were also distinctly separate. You couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at the acknowledgement, a reminder of the individual journeys you both must undertake, regardless of your desires for closeness.

You purse your lips in resignation, eyes casted off to the ground. “I suppose you are right. If he wishes to continue to serve me….that is up to him.”

“Don’t worry about your pretty little head too much, you’ll end up with Hiramu–sama’s wrinkles.” Suzaku jokes at you as you pout at his words, glaring at him. “Besides, ‘tis not too late to find a man to boss around, other than Sukuna–dono. There’ll be eligible bachelors at the clan gathering waiting to be bossed around like him, I’m certain!”

You gasp at your friend. “I don't boss him around! Take that back!”

Gojo's laughter trailed into the distance as he galloped ahead, leaving you momentarily alone with your thoughts. His jest, though light-hearted, sparked a mix of irritation and amusement within you. You couldn't help but smile slightly, despite the seriousness of the conversation. There’s a reason your brother had loved Suzaku like his own brother. He let the weight fall off, with one laugh. And you are, you supposed, are fond of him in that way too.

You nudge your horse forward, catching up to Gojo who had slowed down, allowing you to ride side by side once again. "You know, it's not about bossing anyone around," you began, your tone playful yet carrying an undercurrent of sincerity. "It’s about having someone who understands and shares the burden, someone who can stand by my side not just as a subordinate, but as a partner."

Gojo nodded, his expression turning thoughtful as he considered your words. "True partnership is rare, you need only look at my parents, Hiromi." He whispers back to you "but it's not unattainable. And you, Hiromi, deserve that. And I hope you have it. But such a talk of marriage, that is for life. You bound your homes, your family, your souls for all eternity. You must pick well.”

You gave him a small nod. "I shall bear it in mind.”

"As you should," Gojo responded, his tone confident. "Take this opportunity, this clan gathering, to access the suitors. Take mind of what you want — companionship, friendship, strength, mayhaps even love. Look into their souls. And pray to the gods on it.”

“I know.”

"You're not just choosing a husband, Hiromi," Gojo said as the estate’s gates came into view, silhouetted against the twilight sky. "You're choosing someone to support you as a leader, someone to stand with you against whatever challenges the future might hold."

Gojo's words carried a weight that resonated deeply within you as you neared the grand gates of the estate, the last rays of sunlight casting long shadows over the grounds. His advice was not merely practical; it was a call to introspection and discernment, a reminder of the profound implications your choice of a partner would have—not only for your personal life but for the future of the clan you were destined to lead.

"I understand, Gojo–sama," you replied, your voice tinged with the gravity of the decision that lay before you. His eyes changed, became more guarded, now that you were both returning to the world beyond the two of you. Servants bowed as you passed them by. He sighed. “I take your words into mind.”

As you passed through the estate gates, you felt the weight of your responsibilities more acutely than ever. The upcoming gathering would be a pivotal moment in your life, a time when the personal and the political would converge in the faces of the suitors presented to you. Each candidate would need to be evaluated not just for his lineage or his alliances but for his ability to be a true partner in every aspect of the word.

"Pray to the gods, indeed," you murmured to yourself, echoing Gojo's earlier advice. You knew that divine guidance, if such a thing were inclined toward your plight, would be most welcome. Yet, you also knew that the ultimate decision would come down to your own judgment, your ability to see beyond the surface and discern the true nature of those vying for your hand.

"Thank you, Gojo–sama, for your guidance," you said, offering him a sincere smile as you approached the main house. "I will take everything you’ve said to heart. It was good advice for me to ponder on.”

Gojo Suzaku returned your smile, a sense of pride evident in his eyes. "That's all I can ask for, Hiromi–sama. Know that whatever decision you make, I, and many others, will support you. You are not alone in this, nor will you ever be."

As you dismounted your horses at the stable, you parted with Suzaku, who had returned to his own quarters in the far hedges of the estate. The very best was offered to him — lest your pride would sooner give it to the Fujiwara. As you approached the main house, the fading light cast long shadows across the courtyard.

There, standing with a poise that commanded attention despite the casual lean against a stone pillar, was Ryomen Sukuna. The sight of him, so suddenly before you, caused a small hitch in your breath—a mixture of surprise, then a flood of relief and tension. All those around you were lost in the blur as you approached him. You felt your chest tighten in joy as you looked at him. He was back home. He was safe. And he’s in here, in the flesh.

You turned to your servants as they bowed to you in reverence. You smiled at them, ordering them away. As they backed away, leaving you both to your privacy, Sukuna straightened as he noticed your approach, his expression unreadable at first, then warming slightly with a reserved smile that seemed exclusively reserved for you. His bright red eyes, sharp and discerning, scanned your demeanor as if trying to read the thoughts swirling behind your composed facade.

"Hiromi–sama," Sukuna greeted, his voice carrying a calm strength that often reminded you why he was not only respected but also deeply integral to the clan.

You smacked his hand. “Ever so formal. They’re gone. Talk to me as you usually do, you brat.”

Sukuna's expression tightened subtly at your playful smack, a brief flash of something unspoken passing through his eyes before he masked it with a controlled smile. "Of course…night flower," he replied, his voice holding a trace of coldness that wasn't there before, as if maintaining a careful distance even in his informality. “As you wish.”

“It is my wish,” You nodded at him. “Now, tell me. What has gotten you to such a state?”

"You always preferred plain speaking," he continued, his tone smoothing into something warmer, though it still held an edge that you couldn't quite place. His gaze lingered on you a moment longer than necessary, as if trying to read your thoughts or perhaps gauge your mood.

As you looked back at him, trying to decipher the layers of his demeanor, you noticed a tension in his posture that was unusual for Sukuna. "What's the matter?" you asked, your voice tinged with concern. "You seem... different. Has the trip fatigued you?”

Sukuna shifted slightly, looking away for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "It's nothing," he said, a bit too quickly. "Just the usual clan pressures, you know how it is." His smile was back, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, leaving you with a sense of unease.

You frowned at him, looking up to him as his height towered over you. “You are displeased. But what about? Tell me. Is it something I’ve done?”

Sukuna paused, the conflict evident in his expression as he weighed his words carefully. The usual confidence that characterized his demeanor seemed momentarily shaken as he grappled with his internal struggle. He took a deep breath, and when he spoke, his voice was a mix of resignation and sincerity. His red orbs take a good look at you, the beauty of you, as you stand there, waiting for him to speak. Even now, you’re more concerned about him. More desiring to please him, to see him warmly smile. To be joyous when he’s with you.

“It’s….” He takes a moment as your eyes plead with him, you move to take his hand into your own. He looks down as you wrap your palm against his. It moves him, how your hand and his seem to fit each other like a glove. After all this time, he thinks the touch of your hand on his is the warmth that touches his soul the most. The very touch that makes his heart beat in his chest. “It’s nothing.”

Sukuna's voice trailed off into a whisper, his usual resolve crumbling slightly under the weight of his unspoken thoughts and feelings. The contact of your hand in his, gentle yet firm, seemed to anchor him, providing a silent reassurance that words alone could not convey. Despite his initial protestations, the simple gesture encouraged him to open up, to share more than just the superficial concerns that had been allowed to surface.

"Night flower," he began again, his gaze lifting to meet yours, a hint of vulnerability flickering behind his steady exterior. "It's….I heard about the council.." His words hung heavily in the air, charged with an emotion that had previously been masked by his stoic facade. "I know it's what's needed for the clan. I know it's your duty. But," he paused, searching your eyes for understanding, "It doesn't make it easier to know that….you and another man…”

Your heart clenched at his confession, feeling a surge of empathy for the struggle he faced. Sukuna had always been the pillar of strength, the steadfast protector, rarely showing any signs of personal desire or conflict. To hear him express such raw, personal sentiments was both startling and touching.

"Sukuna," you responded, your voice soft but filled with conviction, "You are irreplaceable to me. No political alliance or marriage can change what you mean to me, to the clan. To us. You are my confidant, my steadfast supporter. My….my dearest follower." You squeezed his hand, reinforcing your words with the warmth of your touch. Your cheeks turn scarlet at your words. "This decision, while necessary, doesn't diminish us. It doesn't diminish our bond."

He listened intently, each word you spoke seeming to ease some of the tension that had built up within him. The warmth of your hand in his served as a tangible reminder of the connection you shared, one that went beyond mere familial duty or clan obligations.

"I know," Sukuna finally said, a small, grateful smile breaking through his usual guarded expression. "And I'm here for you, little night flower. Always." He squeezed your hand back for a moment. Next, they touched your cheeks.You leaned against his touch. “I only live for you.”

“I know.” You responded in a small whisper, feeling his hand squeeze your own. You smile at him. “You had just gotten home. This conversation should not be what we welcome you home with.”

Sukuna's smile softened at your words, a mixture of affection and reassurance lighting up his features. "It's alright," he said gently, his thumb lightly caressing your cheek. "There's no one else I'd rather talk to about these things, no matter the day. But you're right, let's not let this be the shadow that greets my return."

He dropped his hand, though his eyes lingered on you a moment longer, conveying a depth of emotion that words could scarcely capture. "Let’s focus on the now. I’ve missed this—us talking, just being together," he added, his tone warm and inviting.

You felt a wave of relief wash over you, grateful for the shift towards lighter conversation. "Then tell me about your journey," you suggested, stepping back but keeping the warmth in your smile. "What tales do you bring from afar? Any new challenges, any triumphs?"

“I shall tell you later, when we have both recuperated.” He whispers to you tenderly, a small grin on his lips. “Will you sup with me tonight?”

“Of course,” You responded with elation, smiling at him. “I would be happy to be your guest tonight.”

“As am I, little night flower.” He gently lifts your joint hands under his lips, and lets his lips brush against your fingertips. “I shall let the servants know.”

Sukuna released your hand with a final, affectionate squeeze and let it go, as soon as he turned, his sharp eyes piercing towards one of the nearby servants who had been discreetly waiting at a distance. You turned to where he stood and he nodded at the servant. With a few quiet words and a nod, he instructed the servant to prepare for the evening meal. As soon as he showed himself, the servant too fled.

As he finished, he turned back to you, his expression one of quiet anticipation. "It will be just us tonight," he said, his voice carrying a hint of something more personal, a shared intimacy that was often veiled beneath the formalities of clan duties. "A chance to relax and speak freely, away from the ears of the clan. You need not bother with manners.”

“As you like.” You laughed, turning to your side as you watched the sun go down. “We have much to talk about. I suppose. With you being gone so long.”

“Hm.” He nodded at you as he turned around, as though to inspect your surroundings. You were stunned at his sudden touch, tickled as he pressed a kiss against your cheek, his arms wrapped against you. You slowly descended into his touch, your face as scarlet as the scarlet sunset. You leaned against him, comforted in the familiar touch. “I had missed you.”

You slowly looked at him.

You smile at him tenderly.

Your heart skips a beat.

You see the world in him.

“I missed you too, Sukuna.”

YOU HAD NEVER INTENDED TO FALL FOR SUKUNA. He was younger than you, he was not at the same rank as you. You were his better. His superior. You were his master, he your follower. You did not know how it truly began, where it began. But you knew it started subtly, and felt that slow shift in your relationship with Sukuna. In the early years of your youth together, it was all about duty and the responsibilities that came with your roles within the clan. You were the mentor, guiding him through the nuances of life and jujutsu sorcery, preparing him to make the banner of the Ryomen clan stand firm. He was eager, a quick learner, and his dedication to his role within the clan mirrored your own. But most of all, he was eager to serve you in all ways you wanted him to. He declared his purpose to live — to be you.

Over time, however, the lines between duty and personal affection began to blur. More so when your uncle had made him your retainer, as an extension of your uncle’s service to you. It was the small moments that began to weave a deeper connection between you two—the late-night strategy sessions that turned into long conversations about hopes, fears, and dreams.

The way he looked at you when you taught him something new, a look of admiration mixed with something you hesitated to define; the quiet comfort of his presence on a difficult day, and how naturally you began to seek out his company.

You found yourself noticing little things about Sukuna—the way his eyes crinkled when he truly smiled, how he'd always make sure you had the first cup of tea during your meetings, or the way he'd stand just a little closer to you whenever you were in a crowd. How he would walk with you night after night until your body finally tires enough to bid nightmares in the dark.

These were trivial, everyday occurrences, but they built up a tapestry of affection and care that was hard to ignore. They built up admiration, they built up devoted trust and then they built love — one that lingers in your heart then and now today, even stronger.

The realization that you were falling for him was sealed to you during a particularly perilous mission. Sukuna had thrown himself in harm's way to protect you, and the fear that gripped your heart at the thought of losing him was a wake-up call. He had been cruel to that curse that had nearly taken your life.

But he did more than ever, because if he hadn’t, then life would be gone. It wasn't just protective instincts or camaraderie; what you felt was deeper, more personal—a tangled mix of love and devotion that you no longer could or perhaps even wanted to deny.

Admitting your feelings to yourself was one thing; acknowledging them to Sukuna was another. The night you both finally spoke openly about what had been silently growing between you was filled with a mix of anxiety and relief. Under the dimly lit kiss of moonlight, the blossoming of those queen of the nights all around the ponds. Your eyes had never seen clearer. Your heart had never beat harder.

Sukuna, it turned out, had been harboring similar feelings. He confessed that what started as admiration and respect had grown into something much more profound. He loved you, not just as his mentor or as the heir to the clan, but as the person who understood him better than anyone else. He loved you because you were his life. You were his everything. And that has reduced you to the most profound tenderness of your life.

It was the night of too much merry drinking, Sukuna’s name–day. He had settled it to the day he had met you, the day his life had truly begun. Under the ethereal glow of the moonlight, you and Sukuna found yourselves walking along the tranquil paths of the estate's garden.

The night was serene, with a gentle breeze stirring the air, carrying the delicate scent of Wijayakusuma flowers—a rare bloom that only opened at night, releasing its fragrance into the quiet darkness. The pond beside which you walked reflected the moon's silvery light, enhancing the otherworldly atmosphere that enveloped you.

You had been discussing mundane clan affairs, but as the pathway brought you to a secluded spot near the water, surrounded by the blooming Wijayakusuma flowers, you felt a compelling urge to express the feelings that had been growing stronger within your heart. You stopped walking, turning to face Sukuna, who looked back at you with a questioning gaze, sensing the shift in your demeanor. You pulled at the sleeves of his haori. His eyes widened slightly, at how intimate your touch had been.

"Sukuna," you began, your voice soft yet carrying a firmness that underscored the importance of your words. "I know that our duties and roles within the clan are what have always guided our actions. But tonight, under this moonlight, I want to speak not just as your mentor or the heir to the clan, but as myself."

Sukuna's expression softened, his usual guardedness easing as he stepped closer, instinctively understanding the significance of the moment. "Hiromi," he replied in an equally soft voice, his bright red eyes searching for yours.

"There’s something I need to tell you," you continued, your heart beating faster as you gathered your courage. "Over the years, what I feel for you has transformed. It has grown beyond respect, beyond our…existing bond. Sukuna, you must understand. This is….it is hard to say. But…I love you." The words felt liberating, yet laden with the weight of truth that you had held back for so long. You looked at him even more intensely. “I love you.”

The world seemed to hold its breath as you waited for his response. Sukuna's eyes deepened with emotion, a mixture of awe and tenderness etching across his features. He reached out, his hand gently cradling your face, his thumb caressing your cheek softly.

"Hiromi–sama," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "This heart of mine has been yours for longer than I can admit. I love you too. I have loved you in ways I dared not acknowledge until now." His words flowed like a sacred confession, filling the space between you with a profound sense of connection.

The admission ignited a spark that had been smoldering quietly within both your hearts, and as Sukuna drew you closer, the distance between you closed not just physically but emotionally. Your lips met in a kiss that sealed your mutual confession, a kiss that spoke of deep bonds, shared secrets, and a love that transcended the roles you played in the daylight.

Surrounded by the night-blooming Wijayakusuma blossoms, under the watchful gaze of the moon, you and Sukuna embraced each other, allowing yourselves to fully experience the depth of your feelings without reservations. Tonight, you were not just the heir and the warrior; you were two souls united by a love both forbidden and inevitable.

Your relationship, of course, since that confession had been a carefully guarded secret. The stakes were high—fraternization within the clan, especially of such a clandestine and intimate nature, was fraught with political implications. Not to mention, he was your uncle’s son. He would be one to decide his son’s fate in matrimony.

Even if the marriage would be acceptable, the elders would never accept it either. Yet, this secret had brought you closer. This desire to grow this love, this relationship has brought you closer. You both had enjoyed creating a private world where you could both just be yourselves, without the titles, without the burdens of your birthright.

Now, each stolen moment with Sukuna was cherished, a precious respite from the world's demands. You understood the risks, but the depth of your bond made every stolen moment, every shared glance, every secret touch, worth it. It was a love that had grown in the most unlikely of soils, under the cover of duty and clan loyalty, blossoming into something neither of you could have anticipated but now could not imagine being without.

As you sat across from him, delicately handling the utensils and taking small, thoughtful bites of the meal laid out before you, Sukuna watched you intently, his gaze almost unblinking. The soft light of the candles flickered across your features, highlighting the gentle curve of your cheek and the sincere smile that occasionally graced your lips as you engaged in conversation.

To anyone else, this moment would seem ordinary, just two people sharing a meal, but to Sukuna, it was a poignant revelation of all the facets of your being that he had come to adore.

In that quiet observance, Sukuna found himself reflecting on the depth of his feelings for you. He thought he understood it well. You deserve someone as sweet as you, someone whose kindness mirrored your own, whose love was as unwavering and pure as the light in your eyes. You deserve someone who could love you better than he ever thought he could—someone less troubled, less consumed by the complexities and shadows that often followed him like specters from his past.

Yet, as he watched you, Sukuna knew he was addicted to your sweet taste. It was an addiction born not out of necessity but out of a profound and overwhelming desire that transcended mere affection or loyalty. It was an addiction to the warmth you brought into his life, to the serenity that accompanied your presence.

It was an addiction to the way you saw him—not as the formidable warrior or the guarded clan member, but as himself, Sukuna, with all his flaws and strengths laid bare.

He liked things bitter, he liked things as they were—harsh and unadorned with pretense. That was the world he knew, the world he had made his own. But not with you. Never with you. With you, everything was different. Your sweetness didn't cloy; it soothed. It didn't overshadow; it illuminated the dark corners of his heart he had long resigned to shadow. Your love, your presence, transformed the bitterness of his existence into something bearable, even beautiful.

As these thoughts swirled through his mind, Ryomen Sukuna realized with a pang of both joy and sorrow that no matter how much he believed you deserved better, he could not imagine stepping back into the shadows and watching someone else take his place by your side.

The selfish part of him, the part that was irrevocably entwined with your very essence, would not allow it. He was bound to you, not just by duty or shared secrets, but by a powerful, inescapable love that demanded to be acknowledged, cherished, and reciprocated.

So, as you laughed softly at something he said, bringing him back to the present, Sukuna allowed himself a small, genuine smile—a rare gift from a heart so fiercely guarded. In that moment, he made a silent vow: to be the sweetness in your life whenever possible, to temper the bitterness not just within himself but in the world around you, ensuring that no matter what, you would never have to face the shadows alone.

The path to Sukuna's quarters was familiar, yet each step seemed imbued with a sense of anticipation tonight. The estate was quiet, most of its inhabitants having retired to their respective quarters, leaving the halls dimly lit and silent. The soft patter of your footsteps on the polished wooden floors marked your passage through the vast corridors of the Ryomen clan's ancestral home.

As you approached the door to Sukuna's quarters, you paused, taking a deep breath to steady the fluttering in your chest. It was strange how, even after all this time and despite the countless secret meetings, the thrill of seeing him never faded. You gently knocked, a coded rhythm that whispered of hidden intimacy.

The door opened almost immediately, as if he had been waiting just beyond it. Sukuna's presence filled the doorway, his figure imposing yet welcoming. His eyes lit up at the sight of you, a warm smile quickly replacing the usual stern expression he wore around others.

"Night flower," he greeted softly, stepping aside to let you into his private world. The warmth of the room, lit by the gentle glow of lanterns, enveloped you as you entered. The familiar scent of incense was comforting, a subtle reminder of the many nights spent here, wrapped in conversation—or in silence equally profound.

Sukuna closed the door quietly behind you, ensuring your privacy. "I'm glad you could make it," he said, leading you toward the small dining area where a simple yet meticulously prepared meal awaited. The intimacy of the setting—a small table set for two—was a stark contrast to the grand dining halls you were both accustomed to.

"It's been too long," you responded, allowing the relief and happiness to show in your voice. As you sat down across from him, the proximity brought a comforting sense of closeness that you cherished deeply. "I've missed this."

"As have I," Sukuna admitted, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that made your heart race. He served you both, his movements graceful and familiar. The meal was a simple affair, chosen for ease and comfort rather than formality. Each dish was a reminder of previous confessions and conversations that had deepened your bond.

Dinner passed with easy conversation, the kind that you could only have with someone who knew you as well as you knew yourself. You spoke of everything and nothing—missions, clan politics, small triumphs, and trivial frustrations. Yet, beneath the mundane lay the unspoken acknowledgment of the rare and precious nature of your relationship.

As the meal came to an end, Sukuna took your hand across the table, his touch sending shivers up your spine. "No matter where our duties take us," he said earnestly, "this—us—it's worth every risk."

You squeezed his hand in agreement, the danger of your secret alliance a shadow that loomed large but felt inconsequential against the depth of your feelings. "Always," you affirmed, your voice low but fierce with conviction.

The rest of the evening passed in a beautiful blur. You talked, laughed, and shared quiet moments of just being together, stealing time from your respective responsibilities. When it was time to leave, parting was as always bittersweet, filled with silent promises of another stolen moment soon. He did not wish to see you leave. But you had to.

There was a meeting to prepare for, the clans will be arriving soon enough. It was needed as heir to be part of the conversation. Sukuna too will be returning to his training. He had been eager to perfect another technique he had thought of, he called it Kumo no Ito.

He had done it once, fighting a mountain curse by chance. But he was adamant to show it imperfect in form to you. He said it had to be perfect. And he could only do so, if he was perfecting it. And as such, you both needed to bid farewell for the night.

In his dimly lit room, the soft glow of candles casting shadows that danced upon the walls, Sukuna held you close as he bid you farewell, his strong arms encircling your waist with a gentle firmness. The world outside faded into a distant murmur, leaving only the two of you in the cocoon of warmth that your shared presence created.

His eyes, usually so intense and commanding, now looked at you with a tenderness that made your heart flutter, a softness you saw only in moments shared in solitude like this. He was like this, only for you. You were the only one worthy of his humanity.

The gentleness of the kiss was a stark contrast to the fierce battles and harsh realities that both of you faced daily; here, in this moment, there was only gentleness, only love.

As if moved by an unspoken agreement, the kiss deepened, driven by a surge of emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface. Sukuna's hands moved from your waist to cradle your face, his fingers threading through your hair with a delicate touch that belied his warrior's strength.

The softness gave way to a burning intensity as the kiss grew more passionate, more urgent. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that left you breathless, each kiss a fiery declaration of his need, his desire, his love.

The intensity of the moment fueled a deep yearning within you both. Sukuna’s hands, firm and warm, traced the contours of your back, pulling you even closer against him. His touch sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within that grew with every caress, every squeeze that conveyed his impatience and longing.

You responded with equal fervor, your own hands exploring the broad expanse of his back, feeling the muscles tense under your touch. You could feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt, the solid strength of his body a stark contrast to the gentle way he held you. It was a heady feeling, knowing you could evoke such a powerful response from a man as composed and formidable as Sukuna.

He broke the kiss momentarily, his breath ragged as he looked into your eyes with an intensity that made your heart race. "You undo me," he murmured hoarsely, his voice low and husky, filled with raw desire. Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, more insistent this time, as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you.

His kisses trailed from your lips down your jawline to your neck, where he lingered, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin, eliciting gasps and soft moans from you. Each sound you made only seemed to drive him further, his hands roaming over your body, mapping every curve, every line, with a possessiveness that thrilled you.

You tugged at his shirt, pulling it free from his trousers, desperate to feel his skin against yours. Sukuna obliged by shedding the garment swiftly, revealing a chest sculpted with muscle and scarred from battle—a sight that only heightened your desire. You traced the lines of his scars with reverent fingers, each one telling a story of survival and strength.

Sukuna lifted you then, with a surprising gentleness, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. His hands supported your thighs, his grip secure and unyielding, as he carried you to a nearby piles of warm straw pillows. Gently, he laid you down, his body resting against you. You lean towards him, looking into his eyes as though you see the stars, he whole sky, in him.

The world around you seemed to spin, the intensity of the moment drawing you deeper into a whirlwind of sensation and emotion. Sukuna's heartbeat thundered against your chest, mirroring your own rapid pulse. The heat between you built, a delicious tension that made every touch, every kiss, feel like it was both the first and the last.

As you clung to each other, lost in the fervor of each other, it was as if nothing else mattered—no clan duties, no hidden secrets, no potential consequences. In that moment, there was only the truth of what you felt for each other, laid bare and undeniable. But Sukuna knew he could not give into his desires. You were too sweet for him, it's true. But he didn’t want to curse you with bitterness.

Not until you want him to. You deserved better than this. Better than to be shamed beyond your marital bed. He would marry you first, he would claim you as his wife before he goes beyond anything else. Control, he must have control. He could not do this to you. Not yet.

When the kiss finally broke, you both were left gasping, foreheads pressed together, still holding onto each other as if to anchor yourselves in the aftermath of such powerful emotions. Sukuna's eyes met yours again, still intense but now shimmering with a mix of satisfaction and awe at the depth of connection you shared.

“You must go.” He whispers to you, eyes not leaving yours. “Before we do something we’re not prepared for….Tomorrow, we have a busy day, night flower.”

His voice was husky, a whisper laden with regret and a stark reminder of the reality that awaited outside the sanctuary of this moment. His hands, still cradling your face, held you gently as if he could somehow convey the intensity of his feelings through his touch alone.

You nodded, understanding the weight of his words, feeling the ache of leaving him like this. But his use of your affectionate nickname, "Night flower," reignited the warmth inside you, a reminder of the deep bond you shared, one that went beyond physical desires.

"I know," you whispered back, your voice tinged with reluctance. Your fingers traced the line of his jaw, memorizing the feel of him, the strength and warmth that emanated from his skin. "But it doesn’t make it any easier."

Sukuna's eyes held yours, a tumult of emotions swirling in their depths—passion, desire, but above all, an overriding sense of duty and care for you. He leaned in once more, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, lingering kiss that felt like a promise. "Tomorrow," he said softly. You looked up to him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Reluctantly, you stepped back, feeling the cool air rush between you as you disentangled from his embrace. The room seemed colder now, the warmth of his body a ghostly presence that you already missed. You fixed your attire, a physical act of preparation for the return to your separate roles within the clan, each movement marked by a silent yearning for just a few more minutes.

Sukuna watched you, his gaze following every movement, every adjustment. There was a protectiveness in his posture, a silent vow that he was there, always, no matter the distance or duty that might separate you.

As you reached the door, you paused, looking back at him, still standing in the middle of the room, the candles casting soft shadows over his strong features. "Goodnight, Sukuna," you said, the words heavy with unspent passion and a profound affection.

"Goodnight, my night flower," he replied, his voice steady but his eyes revealing the storm of emotions within. As you closed the door behind you, the soft click sounding unusually final, you carried with you the memory of his touch, his kiss, his longing look—a treasure to sustain you through the challenges of the coming day.

As you slipped out of Sukuna's quarters and back into the cool night air, the secrecy of your love felt not like a burden, but a shared secret that bound you closer together, a silent vow renewed with every fleeting encounter. In the shadows of the clan's expectations, what you had with Sukuna was a beacon—a light that, however hidden, guided you both through the darkness.

You wanted it to last forever.

You want it to be eternity, all of it.

Yet you knew better than that.

Wijayakusuma dies easier than that.

And so do many happy days in spring.

Nothing sweet tastes sweet forever.

fun facts for this chapter

they got together when hiromi was 21/22 and sukuna was 19/20. it took hiromi about a year to confess, sukuna was planning to confess when he was promoted in a higher position in the clan. when she confessed, he was already at a higher rank, something similar to a buke, and so felt a little more confident abotu accepting her confession.

hiromi doesn't use her powers that much when she fights, but sukuna does. sukuna is a perfectionist when it comes to jujutsu. he thinks his skill is the best way to prove he's worthy of hiromi, who in his eyes is already powerful without using much of her cursed technique. her cursed technique, sadly drains her too much. we'll see that in as the world caves in and a red winter!!!

isamu does not want hiromi to get married to someone who will make her unhappy due to his own unhappy marriage. but the council of elders think that the earlier hiromi marries, the more her position wouldn't be contested by sukuna (he does not want to contest her).

council of elders want someone who is from outside the clan to marry hiromi because they think it would open to a closer tie with a powerful clan that they think would be able to subdue sukuna's influence. the elders do not trust sukuna, and they never will.

hiromi and suzaku gojo became very close after her brother died, as he was her brother's closest friends. she feels like she needs him in her life to have her brother close. she's hiromi's person when she needs advice about something serious.

hiromi and sukuna often ate together with hiramu in their presence, they were like their own little trio. but hiramu has become more busy with the bureaucratic work that isamu asked his brother to do - so he left sukuna in his place as hiromi's retainer. sukuna has since taken his adoptive father's place as hiromi's confident.

hiramu isn't clueless about what's going on between sukuna and hiromi, but he says nothing. he knows sukuna would end up in trouble. but he would rather see them happy than not at all.

the clan gatherings were made by hiromi's ancestors to settle rekindle friendship between clans. they hunt curses together, compete in poetry and music, archery and such the like. it's the ryomen's turn to host it this year. last year it was the gojo clan who hosted, which is why suzaku was there, talking about clan matters.

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beababoobies · 4 months

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Hello!

Saw you were doing hazbin hotel request, and I can't stand that I have not found much angst on these two, and I mean angst about Sir Pentious being in heaven while Cherri is in hell.

So could you do like one where both of them just miss one another, like Cherri saluting his photo in the hotel lobby daily while Sir Pentious is just thinking about her.

Just putting this out here-

Just as I go “alright, I have reqs but imma go to bed” I see this and go 👀 because lord KNOWS I love writing angst. Yurp, I gotcha. Love Cherrisnake and it’s going to make me SOB but 🙏 yeah. This is much much shorter than I usually write but I hope you still enjoy!!

But I Can’t Help (Falling in love with you)

words : 0.6k, cherrisnake my beloved, here’s some tissues 🧻 for your tears I suppose

Ever since Pentious was murdered by Adam in the fight, Cherri had been hanging around the hotel. She kept insisting it was just to ‘be friendly’ or even ‘angel’s here.’ But after weeks of staying, even having her own room, and competing in the daily rehabilitation excersizes, it was obvious to everyone that wasn’t the case. But they couldn’t tell her that.

Not after Charlie had seen here kneeling in front of the painting of Sir Pentious one night, crying quietly, holding herself in her arms as she looked into his eyes, wishing she had just said fuck it and gone with him. Wishing she had been smarter, admitted that she liked him. But she was stubborn, and refused to let herself fall in love with anyone. So the only thing she can keep of his is the scorching kiss he left against her lips.

And the hotel. Every time she passed his portrait, she would salute to it. The only thing that hadn’t been destroyed in the rubble - his welcome banner - was hung up in her room. Dusty and burnt as it was, she wouldn’t take it down. And Angel was the person who knew all of this. Angel was the one who let her cry for hours about how she should’ve used her brain instead of blocking herself off.

Just like Emily, the kinder of the sarahfim, Pentious had learned, would listen to his rants about how lovely she was. How he knew she would be next up here. He would go on about their past battles, how she was such a strong opponent who always left him guessing her next move. Emily had pretty quickly caught on that it was always bombs, but wouldn’t ruin the fun for him.

He would think of her before he went to sleep, replaying the last kiss before he was redeemed over and over in his head. The way her lips were against his. The way she tasted just like he’d imagined, the taste of sweet cherries engrained in his memory. The way his hands held her waist so softly as he dipper her. The blush on her cheeks as he pulled away.

He thought every night about what he’d do once she got up here too - maybe he’d finally have the courage to ask her out. Maybe she would be distant like she always was and reject him. But the way she’d kissed him back without hesitation brushed those thoughts out of the way. He dreamed about her, dreams from them under the stars to how beautiful and angelic she’d look with the gold accents of devine ordainment. He bets she wouldn’t even lose that beautiful snappiness in her voice.

Just like Cherri knows he would probably still be too anxious to ask her out if he’d survived. Just like she knows she would’ve done it herself after that, running up and into his arms right after the battle. She hated falling in love, she really did - but she couldn’t help but stare at his portrait for hours through the corner of her eye as Charlie explained rehabilitation in the center room. She couldn’t help but deliver flowers to the grave she’d made for him outside the hotel, every day. Without fail, for the past months he’d been gone.

She cursed herself for starting to forget his voice - she cursed herself for forgetting how his lips felt against hers, forgetting the way his chest felt pressed up against his, the coffee in his spit that she could taste. She cursed herself for forgetting.

And Pentious lived every day knowing he could never forget.

#hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #sir pentious #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin cherri bomb #cherrisnake #cherri bomb #hellaverse #sir pentious x cherri bomb #cherri bomb x sir pentious #i love them so much #ANGSTY AS FUCK!!

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jackles010378 · 2 months

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Dancing in the Rain

(Jensen Ackles x You)

Jensen messed up, now he has to find a way to win you back.

Warnings - smidge of angst, plenty of fluff 🥰

The rain came down in torrents, drenching the streets of Vancouver. Y/N huddled under her umbrella, her heart pounding as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. Jensen Ackles, the charming actor she had admired from afar had just messed up big time.

They had met at a charity event, and sparks had flown instantly. Jensen’s smile had been like sunshine breaking through the clouds, and Y/N had felt herself falling. Their relationship blossomed with each passing day.

But, after a few months of dating, he’d said something thoughtless, something that had cut deep. And now, here they were, standing on opposite sides of the street, rain pouring down, their eyes locked in a silent battle.

Jensen had never been good with words. He was used to scripts and lines, but when it came to matters of the heart, he stumbled. He watched Y/N from across the street, her wet hair clinging to her face, her eyes stormy, the rain water mixing with her tears. He knew he had to fix this.

He crossed the street, his shoes splashing in puddles. “Y/N,” he said, his voice low. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. It was stupid, and I regret it.”

She looked at him, her expression guarded. “You hurt me,” she whispered. “I thought you were different.”

Jensen took a step closer, the rain soaking through his shirt. “I am different,” he said. “I’ve never met anyone like you. And I don’t want to lose you.”

Y/N’s heart wavered slightly. She had seen glimpses of vulnerability in Jensen’s eyes, and she wondered if he was sincere. But she couldn’t let herself be hurt again. “What are you going to do about it?” she challenged.

Jensen’s eyes sparkled. “I’m going to win you back,” he declared. “Starting now.”

And so, the grand gesture began. Jensen showed up at her doorstep with a bouquet of sunflowers, their bright yellow petals a stark contrast to the gray sky.

He took her to their favorite coffee shop, where they’d had their first awkward conversation. He even sang her a song, his voice raw and unpolished, but full of emotion. Y/n thought Jensen had gone to get them another drink, but instead she heard his voice echoing throughout the quaint coffee shop.

As she looked up to find where he was, she locked eyes with him standing on a small stage guitar resting on his thigh, "y/n, I know I messed up, but please believe me when I say I would do anything for you. Even get up and sing in front of these nice people".

Y/n's eyes widened as everyone turned to look at her, her cheeks glowing brighter than the sun. He started to strum the guitar and began to sing ........

How far will you go

You should know

You'll be on my mind

Said you were leavin'

But never said when you'd be comin' back home and

I can't wait another day

Cause you know

I'd go to the end of the world for you

If only

You return to me

Ride with me

Round the lakeside

Got a raincoat and a veil

It's been so long since you went away

Took all of your lovin' and left me with nothin' and

When you go

What a shame

Cause you know

I'd go to the end of the world for you

If only

You return to me

Oh, and maybe I deserved it

To be left this way

I'm not sure

How I was so blind

All I know is that if you return it

And kept it here to stay

I'd lose my mind

Cause you know

I'd go to the end of the world for you

To the end of the world for you.....

The crowd in the coffee shop applauded as Jensen finished singing. He made his way back over to you and sat opposite you once again. "I meant it y/n, I'd go to the end of the world for you". You looked over to Jensen with tears in your eyes "I know you would. But you really hurt me Jay".

Jensen looked out the window of the coffee shop and noticed something that pulled at a memory. Something you had told him when you first met. An idea popped into his head. He held his hand out to you which you gracefully accepted. "Do you trust me y/n?" He asked staring down at you, with a pleading look in his eyes. You nodded and let him guide you out of the coffee shop.

Jensen led Y/N to an empty park, the rain starting to fall. He twirled her around, their laughter echoing in the misty air. They danced until they were both breathless, raindrops clinging to their eyelashes.

“I love you,” Jensen said, his voice cracking. “I love your passion, your kindness, your stubbornness. I love everything about you, I also remember you said you have always wanted to dance in the rain".

Y/N’s heart swelled. She kissed him, raindrops mixing with tears again. “I love you too,” she whispered. “But no more messing up, okay?”

Jensen nodded, pulling her close. “No more,” he promised. “Just us, dancing in the rain.”

And so, they danced as the rain fell down on them, showing their love was and will be stronger than any storm.

TAGLIST: @k-slla @cevansbaby-dove @kaleldobrev @janineb86 @deans-daydream @alternativeprincess94 @nescavaneck @angelbabyyy99

#jensen ackles #dean winchester #jackles #supernatural #jensen ross ackles #spn cast #deanwinchtser #jensen ackles gifs #soldier boy #beau arlen #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles fluff #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fic #Spotify

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6lostgirl6 · 11 months

Text

Ties That Bind Part 2

Pairing: Yandere!Anakin Skywalker x Fem Jedi!Reader

TW: General Yandere Behavior, Kidnapping, Mentions of Murder, Angst, Arguing.

A/N: I hope everyone enjoys the second installment of Ties That Bind! I really enjoyed writing this with the amazing @britany1997! She is just so pleasant to work with and made this collab fun and exciting! Please, make sure to support both writers by reblogging both versions. Both writers put equal amount of work into this collab and both deserve equal treatment. Reblogs are always appreciated!

Word Count: 2.1k

When you regained consciousness, your eyes began to flutter open. The momentary confusion was evident in your gaze, and the surroundings around you felt hazy. However, the darkness was something you easily recognized. Your brows furrowed in slight pain, and you felt a severe headache pounding against your skull. Your Jedi senses appeared dull, leaving you feeling a touch jaded. While your mind was trying to catch up, you laid there for a brief period of time, letting your fingertips feel the silk sheets of a strange bed.

Slowly, you sat up in bed, wincing slightly as the movement worsened the ache in your head. Your eyes finally began to adjust as you took in your surroundings. Your brows furrowed as you tried to make sense of your surroundings, scanning the room with a mixture of curiosity and bewilderment. The fog of unconsciousness slowly lifted, allowing you to regain a basic awareness of your immediate environment. It was dark; the walls and floor were painted black, which matched the furniture within, and the blinds of the window shielded the outside world. The room looked extravagant yet simple, which reminded you of your home back in the temple-

The temple.

There was a subtle shift in your facial expression—a flicker of recognition—as your mind grappled with a dark realization. Your eyes widened as you proceeded to throw off the sheets, trying to hastily spring from the strange bed. You yelped when you almost stumbled, and your legs were tangled in the sheets due to haste. Your mind was in shambles as you continued your way to the window, blocking out any source of light. Despite your headache and the panic surging through you, you pressed the button on the wall to remove the blinds. You couldn't help but gasp at the sight, wishing that you had stayed unconscious.

You were surrounded by land that had been burned by fire, molten from lava, and much more. This gave you the impression that you were in an inferno or inside a volcano that destroyed everything around it. There are many tales of a planet like this that you have heard over the years.

Mustafar.

Your heart began to race as your mind whirled. ‘No, no, no,’ you repeated to yourself over and over again. You begged to be awoken from your slumber, surely this could be nothing but a bad dream.

But as much as you pleaded, you would never wake. Your nightmares had turned to reality.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you fought a losing battle to stay calm. You fell against the door, pounding it with your fists and sobbing as you called for Anakin.

When no one answered your pleas, and the door remained firmly shut, you pressed your back against it and slid down. With your knees to your chest and your head in your hands, you wept.

You wept for all the lives lost in the temple massacre as every face you would never see again passed through your memory. You wept for Anakin and whatever sickness had overtaken him to act with such carelessness for life. But most of all, you wept for yourself.

What had you done wrong? What atrocity had you committed to be deserving of such a harsh fate?

You were a prisoner who’d committed no crime, and you fought to resign yourself to an unknown future. You were at the mercy of a man you’d once thought more virtuous than any other. He’d taken everything from you.

After a few hours of weeping, you began to hear the distinct sounds of approaching footsteps from the hallway, heading towards your room. Your mind switched into defensive mode, quickly bringing yourself to your feet and facing the closed metal door. Your heart pounded against your chest, with anxiety and adrenaline rushing through your veins. You feared not what you would see on the other side.

But rather who.

It was at this point that the footsteps halted in front of the metal door, after which it automatically opened. The sliding of the door revealed the last person you had ever wanted to see, as your heart would no longer be able to withstand it. You couldn't bear to see him.

Anakin stood in the doorway, dressed in his previous robes. Your eyes darted over the fabric, looking for any hints of blood, that horrific shade of red that used to appear across the floor of the temple and in the cauterized wounds of your fellow Jedi. However, those hints were nonexistent, and you felt sick to realize that there was a glimmer of relief you possessed within. Perhaps he didn’t want to upset you more.

He moved towards you, kneeling to your level, his hand outstretched to cup your cheek. You recoiled out of instinct, turning your head to avoid the caress of your captor.

A look of pain crossed Anakin’s face before he quickly masked it. This was what he’d been afraid of. He’d let the whole galaxy think he was cruel, but not you. He’d never hurt you. He loved you. Why couldn’t you understand that?

“My love…” Anakin began, but you cut him off with a humorless laugh.

“Love?” you scoffed, “is that what this is to you?”

You turned to meet his gaze and your heart clenched inside your chest. His eyes looked into yours with longing and desperation. But their yellow tone confirmed your fears and reminded you of what he was. He was not your Anakin, not anymore.

“This is not love,” you whispered, “love should never come at such a high and terrible price.”

Though he hid it well, frustration ran through Anakin. He had to make you see.

He caught your wrist in his hand and brought it to his chest, holding your palm over his heart. You gasped and tried to pull back, but he would never let you go.

“Please listen,” he begged.

You sighed, if only to understand why he had done what he’d done, you would listen.

“I’ve spent my whole life loving you,” he confessed, “I couldn’t let some code keep us apart my love. You are my world, my whole universe, without you there is no reason to breathe. I could not stand another night pretending that I don’t want you, that I don’t need you. I’d sooner destroy every planet than live only loving you from a distance. I couldn’t keep denying what was true in my heart.” His grip tightened gently on your hand that was still pressed to his chest.

“I would do anything for you baby,” he leaned forward until his lips were pressed to the shell of your ear, “I already have.”

Your eyes brimmed with tears once more; the sick affection lacing his words made your heart skip a beat, and if the situation had been different, you would have returned his passion. However, the haunting images of those people who’d once walked among you, now dead in the hallways, couldn’t leave your thoughts.

“Anakin…” You began, your tears threatening to fall down your face once more as your body became rigid from the way his forehead pressed against your temple, his lips brushing against your skin. “You killed innocent people, our people; I would have never agreed to this!”

You pulled away from him slightly, making Anakin reluctantly follow suit as your eyes met once more, his yellow irises seeming to pierce your entire being. His grip on your hand pressed against his chest was strong, refusing the notion of losing your sacred touch.

“I know you wouldn’t, my love,” He replied, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “You’re so sweet and innocent, but that’s why I had to take you baby, don’t you understand?” Anakin brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, “every night I’d be plagued by visions of your corpse my love, I needed to protect you but the high council never would have let us be together. I did this for you. I refuse to lose you over some code; I’ll destroy the entire galaxy if it means making you mine and safe.”

His golden gaze darkened for a moment, which you almost didn’t catch. The idea of his visions coming true caused a sick feeling that threatened to overtake him.

“You’ll understand that one day.” He concluded.

Your jaw dropped. You were sure Anakin had had his fair share of girls falling at his feet, and maybe one of them would have envied your position.

But you were a Jedi Knight. You were once a youngling, chosen to be a Padawan, eventually advancing to your station now. You’d earned your place alongside Anakin and all those who had fought to maintain order and justice for the peace and freedom of the galaxy.

You may be sweet, but you were not innocent, and you certainly didn’t need anyone else’s protection.

The fear that had crept into your heart was replaced by a burning anger. It wasn’t up to anyone but yourself to decide what was best for you. Anakin wasn’t the master of your fate, you were.

“Anakin,” you began, maintaining your calm demeanor so as not to upset your captor, “you have to let me go. Nothing will hurt me Ani, I’m going to be fine, but you must atone for your crimes.”

You gathered your courage, “what you did was wrong, no matter if you think you did it for the right reasons. You have to turn yourself in, and you have to let me go.”

Anakin’s eyes widened, his heart racing from the words he was hearing fall from your precious lips. This wasn’t what he was expecting at all. In his mind, he thought you would have been happy for what he did—fall into his arms and return his feelings. He didn’t expect you to retaliate and say such horrible things. You’ve never spoken against him before, ever.

“Turn myself in?” He repeated as his eye gave a subtle twitch, his yellow orbs darkening as he tried to swallow his anger. “Don’t you turn against me now; nothing is going to harm you because I’m here, without the code getting in my way. You're safe because of me. You would do well to remember that, my love.”

"No Anakin..." You whispered, pulling yourself out of his grasp once more, the storm in your eyes growing stronger yet the breaking of your heart was undeniable. "I'm imprisoned by a monster and I would rather die than return your feelings."

"W-What?" He whispered, feeling like his heart was being ripped from his chest. It was like he could barely breathe. as panic began to course through him for the first time in a long while. "Don't you ever say that to me."

"I love you, my sweet girl..." Anakin continued, trying to step closer to you but you continued backing away. He felt like he could die at this moment, being refused your affection and love. "I know you feel the same way..."

"I did once..." You answered, sitting on the edge of the bed and crossing your arms, ignoring the tears threatening to escape you once more. "But I will never love a monster, the Anakin I loved is gone."

Anakin fought to keep tears from rolling down his cheeks, your words cut deeper than any swipe of a lightsaber he’d ever received. You were his everything, yet here you were, treating him as if he were nothing.

“Then the Anakin you loved was a lie,” he whispered, “I am who I’ve always been.”

He grasped your wrist firmly, careful not to hurt you but desperate to remind you that he was a powerful man. “All I want,” he ran a hand down your cheek causing you to flinch away, making his heart clench, “all I’ve ever wanted…was you.”

You pulled your wrist from his grasp. He sighed as he let you. “Now that I have you, I’m not letting you go, not ever.”

You lip quivered as you fought back tears of your own.

“I’ll be back when you’ve learned to accept that,” he told you, his voice breaking. The door closed behind him, sealing you into your room that might as well have been a cell.

“No! Wait!” you rushed to pound on the door but to no avail.

“Let me go Anakin,” you sobbed, “you have to let me go. Please, please let me go.” Your body shook and you choked as your tears flowed, forming a puddle on the ground.

Anakin leaned on the other side of the sealed door, head in his hands as his own tears fell. He hated to hear you so upset. He longed to pull you into his lap and wrap his arms around your cute, tiny frame. He imagined how he’d hum to you and dry your tears as he rocked you back and forth.

Yet he knew that you’d only reject his comforting embrace. He wept, your desperate cries too much for him to bear. He’d do anything for your love.

Anything but let you go.

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cherienymphe · 1 year

Text

The Less I Know The Better XIX (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, attempted murder, violence, blood, manipulation, DUI, underage drinking, drug use, unhealthy relationship, non canon ages, pogue!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: When you start dating Rafe Cameron, no one is more surprised than you when your best friend JJ takes it really well. However, no one is more surprised than JJ when he’s forced to see his once frumpy BFF in an entirely new light, suddenly terrified of losing what he never knew he had to the person he hates most.

You didn’t need to be a genius to know that you were scaring Rafe.

You hadn’t talked in days, hadn’t said a word since that night, finally grasping where you were and what happened and mumbling Rafe’s name just to confirm that you were safe. He’d stayed in the tub with you for hours, just holding you and cleaning you and running new bath water when it got too…pink. When you sat in there long enough, he helped you out, wrapping a towel around you and finding you something to wear.

When you were comfortably in one of his shirts and boxers, he sat you down. You could feel his hands on your arms, gentle, but shaking nonetheless with restraint. Rafe had knelt before you, trying to look into your eyes, but you were hardly able to see what was right in front of you so it was hard.

“Y/N…”

You had known what he was going to say, going to ask, and you had shaken your head.

“No? W-what does that mean? No, you don’t know or… No, you aren’t going to tell me?”

“No,” you mumbled.

It was neither.

“No,” you whispered again, shaking your head.

JJ was your best friend.

You’d grown up together, practically since you both could walk. He looked out for you in ways that your brother should have before he took off, the only reason you’d been able to weather middle and high school. Bitchy teenage girls didn’t like to bother you when JJ was around, and he was always around.

There’d been so many times where you’d felt beyond guilty at having to rely on him to protect you from the world. Having to crash at his place or wear his jacket or have him fight whatever battles you were too chicken to fight yourself. It didn’t matter to you that he was happy to do all of that, but just the mere fact that he even had to.

JJ wasn’t just your best friend, but your very own protector.

Tears kissed your eyes at that, a deep frown on your face. The blond had protected you your whole life, and it had never once occurred to you that he might need to protect you from himself. You shook your head at Rafe, scooting back and ignoring his forlorn look. He’d called your name again, and your only response had been to pull his covers over you, burying your face into his pillow.

That voicemail played over and over again in your head, lying in Rafe’s bed, thinking to yourself how JJ could…do that to you. It made sense that you’d thought he was Rafe, that you could accept. You’d been so drunk and so upset, and you’d just wanted Rafe…and JJ had known that. He’d taken advantage of that, and if the way he’d smiled in your face and pretended to comfort you was anything to go by, seemingly without remorse.

The JJ you knew wasn’t capable of even half that, and yet…

It was hard to say how many days you spent there. Rafe brought you food, and you’d have the faintest memory of eating, the faintest memory of leaning against him in the shower. You were too in your own head, trying too hard to make it make sense, but then again, that was the problem. It didn’t make sense.

It didn’t make sense that JJ decided he liked you now after having your whole lives to come to that conclusion. It didn’t make sense that he would kiss you, rape you…rape you again. None of it made sense, at all, and the more you tried to make sense of it, the more your head hurt. With that voicemail in your head, little by little, it started to come back.

You had, without a doubt, thought that he was Rafe.

You didn’t remember everything, some things even alcohol was capable of suppressing, but you remembered enough. You remembered lips against yours and hands on you and the feel of being pinned to your bed. You remembered teeth on skin, and you shuddered at the memory of him coming inside of you. Knowing that it was JJ, and not Rafe, was almost enough to make you sick.

And to add insult to injury, JJ had shown up at your place the next day, pretending like nothing had happened. He’d smiled at you, held you while you cried, and had even slept in that same bed under the guise of looking out for you. It was too much, and before you knew it, you’d retreated back into yourself again.

The next time you became aware of your surroundings, Rafe was holding a straw to your lips. You blinked, recognizing the familiar taste of Gatorade, and you closed your eyes. You only noted how tired you felt, a strange feeling since you felt like you’d been sleeping so much. You could feel Rafe’s fingers on your face, and you looked at him.

“There she is,” he murmured, a faint smile on his pink lips. “How are you feeling?”

What a loaded question.

You turned away, swallowing. You knew that you needed to tell Rafe. Someone really, but him especially, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to. That part of you that still cared about JJ was slowly dying. It was dying with a fight, and that made you sick to your stomach. You never thought a day would come where you and JJ wouldn’t be friends.

Even when he had kissed you, you’d been so angry. God, you’d been angrier than you had ever been, but there was a part of you that hoped you could get past this in time. It had seemed farfetched, but you were sure of it. You both were so young, and no one had predicted the whirlwind that was you and Rafe, and so emotions and tensions were high and the whole thing was a breeding ground for disaster.

But now? This? There was no coming back from this, and before you knew it, you’d started crying again. Rafe’s arms had wrapped around you, holding you to him, and you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. You held onto him too, trying to ground yourself.

“Who did this to you?”

Rafe’s soft voice reached your ears, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

You knew you needed to tell Rafe, but you couldn’t. Not because there was a part of you that still cared about JJ. Not because there was something in you that didn’t like the idea of seeing him hurt. You weren’t trying to protect JJ. You were trying to protect Rafe.

No amount of reasoning would get to Rafe once you told him the truth. He would get tunnel vision, the only thing on his mind being JJ and how to quickly snap his neck. You couldn’t deal with losing Rafe too, and you tightened your arms around him, wishing you could stay in this room forever.

When you woke up, Rafe was gone, but that wasn’t unusual. Your head felt a little clearer today, and so you found the strength to get up and take a shower. It didn’t matter how many times you’d scrubbed yourself, you still felt so dirty. You swore you could still feel JJ’s hands on you…and feel him in you. You shuddered at the memory, swallowing.

When you finally stepped out of Rafe’s room, the house was quiet. It didn’t look like anybody was home, not even Wheezie, and you made your way downstairs. You didn’t have a taste for much, but you needed to eat something, and so you threw a small snack together. You were halfway done with it when you heard a vehicle outside, and your eyes lit up when Rafe eventually showed his face.

He looked a little shocked to see you out of bed, but his expression softened, a smile on his face.

“Hey,” he said, reaching you and pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Where’d you go?”

His expression shifted at that, lips pressed together before sitting across from you. There was something about the look on his face that you didn’t like, and you slowly stopped chewing. Rafe sighed, resting his arms on the island and staring you down.

“I went by The Wreck.”

Your heart sank, and your lips parted.

“What? Why?” you asked in a small voice.

“Well, considering you left that day to go meet with Kie…I’m sure you can guess how I feel about her, right now.”

You swallowed, sitting up straight with a frown.

“This isn’t Kie’s fault-.”

“You know I don’t care about that,” he bit out. “I just care that you left without me because of her, and when you returned to me, you were hurt and bleeding and broken.”

His tone had you looking down, and he continued.

“…but you know what’s interesting?”

You chewed on your lip, avoiding his gaze.

“She had no idea what I was talking about.”

Tears kissed your eyes.

“None.”

“I don’t want to talk about this, Rafe,” you whispered. “Please.”

“You were raped!”

You flinched.

“Again,” he breathed. “…and you are asking me to just let this go?”

“Yes,” you choked out. “…because that’s what I want, and you have to respect that.”

Your eyes met his at that, and Rafe’s lips parted. He stared at you for several moments before a light scoff left him, a humorless chuckle making it’s way out of his throat. He didn’t even acknowledge what you said, pushing himself to his feet, and reaching for your empty plate.

“You done?”

You nodded, and he took it. His gaze lingered on yours, and as he brushed by you, there was something in his eyes that you didn’t like. You knew that once Rafe was determined about something, he didn’t stop until he got it, and you were kidding yourself if you actually thought he was going to let this go.

He didn’t bring it up again for days, letting you cope and deal with this at your own pace. It was hard to just forget about what JJ had done, still seeing his face in your sleep and waking up in tears sometimes. Those were nights where you’d hold onto Rafe extra tight, the most recent ending in a tear filled argument.

“Rafe, please,” you begged, reaching for his face and brushing your lips over his.

“No, no,” he had said, shaking his head and pulling away. “I’m not enabling this.”

Sex had been the last thing on your mind for weeks, but now, you needed Rafe more than anything. You couldn’t stand the thought that JJ was the last person to touch you, to be inside of you, and Rafe’s refusal was making you angry and frustrated.

“You won’t let me in, you won’t tell me who did this to you, and you expect me to just have sex with you like I didn’t spend weeks watching you move around like some ghost?”

He was angry, and your hands fell at that.

“I don’t want to sound like a selfish asshole, but do you get what this is like for me?”

His voice was hushed, the rest of the house asleep, but no less angry.

“To watch you like this, to clean you up knowing what happened to you, and just having no choice but to sit and twiddle my fucking thumbs?”

You looked down at the tears in his blue eyes.

“You won’t tell me anything, won’t let me fix this…”

“I don’t want you to fix this.”

“…but you expect me to just let you use me to avoid it?”

You swallowed at that, deflating.

“You were bleeding,” he hissed. “…and you wouldn’t even let me take you to the doctor.”

You winced, looking away.

“That’s all I can think about,” he whispered. “That’s all I see whenever I look at you.”

You didn’t know what to say to make this better, so you only apologized, and that just seemed to make him angrier.

“I don’t want you to be sorry! You have nothing to be sorry for-.”

He cut himself off, roughly exhaling and twisting his hands into his hair. Rafe took a deep breath, kneeling before you as you sat on the bed. He took your hands, squeezing them and making you look at him.

“I just want you to tell me,” he whispered, jaw clenching when you shook your head.

“I can’t do that. I can’t.”

He huffed, and you felt like crying again when he stood, leaving his room.

“Here,” Rafe mumbled, an encouraging smile on his lips.

You huffed, taking another drink that he’d poured you with a shake of your head.

��Call me crazy, but I think you’re trying to get me all liquored up.”

He sighed, brushing his lips over your cheek.

“You don’t want to talk, you don’t want to go see anyone,” he said, brushing his thumb over your neck, expression somber. “I figured maybe a drink is exactly what you need, right now.”

You deflated some at that, sheepishly eyeing him.

“Rafe…”

“Don’t,” he whispered. “It’s okay. You don’t want to tell me, you don’t even have to, and… I have to respect that.”

You happily drank it, thinking to yourself how alcohol was never your thing before, but lately, it was all you turned to. You grimaced, thinking about how that particular coping mechanism had gotten you into this mess in the first place. You told yourself not to do that. This wasn’t your fault, this was JJ’s, and the thought of him had you pouring yourself another drink.

“We should leave,” you whispered after a while.

Your body felt so light, and you knew you were drunker than you’d intended. Rafe made a face at that.

“Leave?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “We should get off this island, go anywhere we want.”

Rafe didn’t return your smile, a concerned frown on his face. He cupped your face, studying your eyes.

“Babe…you love it here,” he worriedly whispered. “Your family and your friends…”

He trailed off when you jerked your head away at that, sighing. You licked your lips, eyes watering at the mention of the word friends.

“I…can make new ones…”

It didn’t even sound right to your ears, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to be as far away from JJ as possible. Nothing was what you thought it was, and this island that you’d grown up on, your home, didn’t feel the same.

“There’s the whole world, Rafe, and I…I don’t wanna stay here anymore,” you slurred, about to pour yourself another drink.

Rafe stopped you, taking the bottle away and swiping his tongue between his lips. His face was serious, now, and you didn’t think you liked the look in his gaze. His brows drew together.

“Why do you want to make new friends?”

You looked away, exhaling.

“You know why.”

Your heart sped up at the thought of JJ, and Rafe grazed your cheek with his fingers.

“JJ will get no defense from me, that’s for sure, but I know how much you care about him,” he said, something about his tone rubbing you wrong. “You don’t think you can forgive him for kissing you?”

“God, Rafe, it’s not just the kiss! You don’t-.”

You cut yourself off, deeply swallowing. Your eyes widened as you stared at his sheets, and you could feel his gaze on you. The silence that surrounded you both was loud, and you blinked, tears spilling over. The words had tumbled out before you realized, the alcohol in your system loosening your lips. At that thought, your eyes landed on the bottle on Rafe’s nightstand.

“I’m so stupid,” you breathed, lifting your gaze.

Rafe’s eyes were cold, and his jaw clenched as he stared you down.

“I don’t what?”

“You got me drunk on purpose!”

“What else are you mad at him about if not just the kiss?”

“You knew that I would say something I didn’t want to!”

You both were standing now, and you felt betrayed as you stared at Rafe…while he just looked furious.

“It was him, wasn’t it?”

“Rafe-.”

“Was. It. Him?”

“Rafe, please-!”

You both ran towards the door at the same time, your back against it while Rafe sneered at you.

“Cause I can only think of one person who would pretend to be Kie and trick you into meeting with them…”

“No.”

“Someone who you would want nothing to do with otherwise!”

You couldn’t stop crying, now, and you shook your head.

“Why are you protecting him?” he screamed.

“I’m not!” you shrieked.

Rafe was gearing up to say something else when you spoke again.

“I’m protecting you,” you shakily whispered. “Rafe…”

His shoulders sagged some at that, but his blue eyes were wild with anger, and you watched him pull his lip between his teeth.

“It was him…wasn’t it?”

You could only cry.

“He did this to you,” he breathed.

You reached out, pressing a hand to his chest, gaze pleading.

“…and it was him that night too…wasn’t it?”

Your eyes widened, and your silence had Rafe letting out a humorless laugh. Your breath hitched, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“Yeah,” he said with a nod, hands on his hips. “There’s only one guy on this whole island who you’d mistake for me. One guy who can get into your house because you never left.”

He laughed to himself again, and you felt so sick.

“You never fucking left!”

“Rafe…”

“I’m gonna kill him,” he said with a smile, but nothing about it was comforting.

Rafe shoved you out of his way before you could react, and you stumbled. The alcohol in your system had the whole house spinning, and you struggled to follow him into Ward’s office.

“Rafe, you can’t…”

You trailed off at the sight of a familiar gun in his hand. He’d drunkenly shown it to you one night, revealing a whole other side to Ward you didn’t know existed, Rafe telling you not to worry as it was empty. Now, however, you watched your boyfriend load it, and you tried to stop him on his way out. You stumbled as he breezed by you, and you had to take a moment to catch your breath and steady your vision.

“I fucking knew it,” he spat as he neared the door.

The slam of it made you wince, and you could feel yourself panicking. It was only just hitting you that Rafe knew what JJ had done and that he’d left with a loaded gun, fully prepared to kill your former best friend. It was only just hitting you that someone else could get seriously hurt, or worse, in the process. No one else was home, and you pushed down the urge to be sick, running into Rafe’s room for the keys to his bike.

As you stumbled outside, you prayed and prayed that you could get to The Cut safely. This was beyond hypocritical of you, but you were afraid of what might happen if you didn’t make it there in time. Rafe was sober, and speeding no doubt, while you were driving a whole twenty under the speed limit, vision still swaying slightly.

You couldn’t even be mad that Rafe had gotten you drunk on purpose, determined to get it out of you one way or another. You could only think about what was going to happen today, and your stomach churned. There was no doubt that they’d all be at The Chateau, and when you felt like you couldn’t safely drive anymore, you ditched his bike. Your feet carried you through familiar yards, the world tilting, and you paused to steady yourself.

There was the heaviest feeling of dread in your gut, and when you finally neared The Chateau, you could hear yelling and screaming and all kinds of commotion. Your legs were shaky, and the ocean breeze and fresh air did seem to sober you up a bit, but nothing did the job quite like the sight you stumbled on.

Rafe and JJ were fighting…again.

They were rolling around on the ground, fists sinking into each other with the intent to kill, and you sharply inhaled. John B. was trying to break them up while Pope nervously stood off to the side, and your eyes fell to the gun in his hand, relief filling you. Your gaze moved to Sarah and Kie, the former with a phone to her ear, and it took a minute to understand why.

“Sarah, no!”

No one else had noticed you yet, and Sarah’s wide eyes met yours as you ran towards her.

“Hang up,” you cried, reaching for the phone and hearing the tell-tale sound of a cop.

You both fought for her phone while JJ and Rafe fought each other. Kie jumped into the mix.

“Someone’s going to get hurt,” she told you.

As if she’d conjured it up, you three heard Pope exclaim, and you looked over, heart sinking. All four of them were on the ground now, JJ and Rafe bloody and bruised messes as they both fought to get the gun. John B. and Pope fought to get the gun before either of the blondes could.

“Sarah, you have to hang up,” you told her, trying to get her phone.

By now though, you knew it was too late. You knew that police were probably already on their way, and you didn’t want to think about what that meant for Rafe who’d stolen his dad’s gun with the intent to kill. The guys were still fighting when you finally got her to hang it up, and you ran towards them despite Sarah and Kie’s protests.

You froze when a familiar hand wrapped around the gun, Rafe’s chest heaving as he lifted his arm towards JJ. You screamed his name, but it was like he didn’t hear you. Either that, or he ignored you, solely focused on JJ when Pope reached for the gun too. John B. was yanking on Rafe’s shirt, pulling him, and when it went off, JJ didn’t get hit.

You were standing somewhat behind him, but neither did you. You could hear police sirens coming down the road, and you swallowed, relief filling you when John B. and Pope wrestled the gun away from Rafe, tossing it behind them as he yelled at them. Your heart was still racing, and your shoulders sagged, relief starting to completely take over…

When Sarah screamed.

You couldn’t turn around fast enough, and you felt like the ground was crumbling beneath you as Kie fell, falling into Sarah’s arms. Blood was slowly staining her yellow shirt, and there was a loud ringing in your ears. Pain was etched across her face, and she and Sarah were pressing their hands against the wound.

“Kie,” you screamed, falling beside them and helping them.

“I don’t think it’s bad, I don’t think it’s bad,” she repeated, and you didn’t know if she was telling the truth or merely trying to reassure you.

Pope and John B. joined you too, and you could hear the police sirens just behind you, now, the car stopping in the yard. Her blood was on your hands, and your vision blurred with tears. Shoupe’s voice reached your ears as he called for backup and an ambulance. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, bile rising in your throat as Kie’s lashes fluttered.

You had almost forgotten about Rafe and JJ entirely…until your former best friend spoke.

“Rafe shot her.”

You spun around, eyes wide and tearful as JJ pointed at the grass.

“That’s his dad’s gun. You can check it,” he spat. “He shot her.”

Your mouth fell open, gaze meeting Rafe’s, and you felt…stuck.

It was true. Rafe had shot Kie, and it didn’t matter that it was an accident nor that he’d had every right to come here with murderous intent fixed on JJ. He’d shot Kie, and while she seemed to be coherent as Shoupe approached you guys, it didn’t change what he did.

But with that same thought, it didn’t seem right to watch one of Shoupe’s deputies approaching Rafe with handcuffs in his hands. Rafe briefly closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose as he lifted his hands. Your hand was still pressed to Kie’s wound, even after Shoupe told you that he could take it from there. Sarah’s hands on you pulled you to your feet, and you stumbled towards Rafe.

“No,” you slurred, shaking your head. “You don’t understand.”

Sarah pulled you back, and you winced as Rafe was handcuffed, led towards the squad car. None of them were listening to you, but Sarah hugged you from behind.

“I know,” she whispered in your ear. “I know.”

She was crying too, and you looked between Kie and Rafe, your legs buckling. You were in disbelief, telling yourself that this couldn’t be happening as you felt like you were having an out of body experience. You cried harder when they put Rafe in the backseat, more tears falling when an ambulance finally came, people in the neighborhood straggling about to see what was going on.

You were sure you were going to be sick at any moment, and the one person you blamed was the only one who wore the faint hint of a smile on his lips at the sight of Rafe’s arrest.

#dark!jj maybank x reader #dark!jj maybank #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #obx #outer banks fanfiction

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claiestve · 2 months

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𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐬 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 ꨄ Xanthus

˜”* ❝𝙄 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣'❞

⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ.

⎯୨⎯ " " ⎯୧⎯

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

It’s okay, breathe. It’s for the better. It is for the better, right? Right?

“By agreeing to this, you are agreeing to give up the memories of this person. Do you wish to proceed?”

If all of the pain just went away, that’d be amazing. Maybe this is what you need—the last step.

“Ahem,” You cleared your throat, “Yes, I wish to proceed.” This was good. This means no more sleepless nights. No more being terrified like that day.

After the battle, you couldn’t remain with Xanthus. He became unhealthily obsessive and toxic. You knew it wasn’t intentional but fuck did it hurt. You saw through it, he was terrified of something happening to you. He was much more jumpy than before. He’d flinch at loud noises. You found it strange that out of his four hundred-something years, he wouldn’t be so affected by this. However, you’re his love and the thought of losing you forever affected him terribly.

When the two of you addressed it, you concluded that you’d have to love from a distance. Seeing him like that broke you and he was hurting seeing you constantly nervous to live your life. Although he’d want you for eternity, whatever you want or need, he’ll make sure you get. So it was final.

However, that didn’t stop you from thinking about it. Even with your new place in the city that never sleeps, you couldn’t get him off your mind. It got worse when you’d go to sleep. All you could think about was the battle and the crazy look in Xanthus’ eyes when he was fighting for your life. You told him you’d never be scared of him but you couldn’t help but be scared. It was all too much.

One day, you went to your last resort. You knew it was an option the whole time but didn’t want to go to it. However, at this rate, you had to. You had to have your memory of Xanthus and that world erased. You were hesitant at first but you knew this was right.

Right?

“Is this too tight?” The woman asked as she put the weird contraption on your head. It was glowy and you looked like some sort of alien. It was a bit tight but nothing that would bother you.

“No, it’s just fine.”

“Alright, just lay back. You brought many sentiments so this might take a while. If you need us to stop, let us know.”

That left you nervous. Why would you need them to stop? What could happen?

You closed your eyes with an open mind. Nothing was happening yet. It just felt like you were laying back and resting. That’s where it starts though. Your brain started to throb.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“I bought something for you. I had planned to give it to you another day but there’s no time like the present.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“I saw this bracelet and thought of you.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You peeked your eyes open to see that same bracelet being removed from your wrist. You wanted to snatch it back but no matter how hard you tried, your body couldn’t move. All you could do was lay back and close your eyes.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“You showed me what I had missed.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, the list is endless. Um, a willingness to fight the innocence of love, the warmth of sentiment, the necessity of respite, purpose of living.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You thought back to the apartment you two were sitting in. Whose was it again? The name wasn’t quite clicking anymore. At all, actually. Your memories started to become a blur and soon enough, you felt it. Your throat getting tighter, your breath shortening, your body shaking.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Something’s… wrong.”

“What? What is it?”

“I don’t know… I just have a feeling.”

“For yourself?”

“No.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You gasped, suddenly your lungs opened back up and your throat loosened. Your gaze quickly turns back and forth as you try to get a hold of someone to help you.

“What’s wrong?” A woman approaches you while reaching for your hand.

You look into her eyes waiting for your voice to vocalize your pain but you can’t. All you could do was break down and cry as you thought about… what were you thinking about again? You couldn’t tell why you were panicking so much or what you were crying about anymore. It was all completely dismissed from your mind.

“This is good!” The woman expresses to her team in the back as they laid you back down on the chair. She hands you a bracelet and waits for a reaction.

“Are you giving this to me? What is this?”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

this is so heavily inspired by eternal sunshine of the spotless mind and also we can't be friends mv (I'm sorry) sooo yeahhhh AHHAHAHHA

also yall im SORRY THIS WAS SO PROCRASTINATED IM GONNA UGH

#zsakuva #asmr #sakuverse #xanthus

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commander-krios · 6 months

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Nights Like This

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: f!Tav/Rolan Rating: Teen Summary: Rolan knew the moment he stepped into Juniper's camp that Lorroakan would punish him for getting his injuries healed, but when he saw the tiefling bard by the firelight, he found he was willing to take the risk. Words: 3426 Additional Tags: Tiefling Tav, Tieflings, Named Tav, First Kisses, BG3 Spoilers, Act 3 Spoilers, Abuse Mention, Injury, Healing, Bard Tav

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Rolan still wasn’t sure why he’d shown up at the camp. It would only spell disaster for him when Lorroakan learned why he was no longer suffering from the pain of his bruises. But the haunted look in Juniper’s eyes when she saw his face… he immediately agreed to her request, even if it made things worse for him later. Because he didn’t want to be the cause of any distress to the tiefling woman who had already saved his life twice.

She was waiting for him near fire, the entire camp deserted except for the two of them. She hadn’t noticed him yet, her attention on something in her hands that reflected the light of the flames. There was still time to escape, for him to return to the Tower before anyone was the wiser.

But he couldn’t.

Not when Juniper was standing there with a melancholic sadness that pierced his heart. She was fighting a losing battle: against the tadpole in her head, against a pair of insane cultists and their gods, against an Elder Brain.

And she still found time to aid him despite it all.

He watched her from a distance, the glow of the fire painting her skin in a golden light. She was ethereal in her quiet contemplation, lost in her thoughts as the flames danced at her feet. For a moment, he wondered what it would feel like to brush his claws through her hair, to feel the silky smoothness of the strands against his skin, to taste her mouth against his. To know her.

Rolan wanted to protect her, even if the thought was absurd.

A chill went through him and he rubbed his hands against his arms, trying to beat back the nerves that made his stomach flutter. Ever since their almost kiss during the tiefling party, he’d been thinking about her constantly, even when he shouldn’t be. The image of her had gotten him through the worst of the abuse from the wizard in Ramazith’s Tower and here she was, again, trying to save him.

His feet shuffled forward of their own accord, his only thought of seeing her captivating smile again. He wouldn’t leave until he got one. It was the least he could do to pay her back for everything she’d done for him.

“I didn’t realize medical services required this much privacy.”

She turned at the sound of his voice, amusement flitting across her features. “Don’t you know? It’s all part of my plan to seduce you.”

Rolan paused, his heart feeling like it was trying to burst from his chest, and he swallowed nervously, fingers rolling the edge of his robe between them. “I… didn’t mean-”

She shook her head, motioning for him to sit near the fire, the smallest of laughs on her lips. “I’m joking, Rolan. I only figured you wouldn’t enjoy an audience for this.” She bent over to search in the pack at her feet, raven hair loose around her shoulders and he was struck by the sight. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her hair down before. It… suited her. Far more than was fair.

Rolan settled on a rock in front of the fire, feeling chilly despite the heat of the flames. His body protested every small movement as he sat, the sharper edges of the stone digging into his hips. His tail curled protectively around his calf. Inhaling, his breath caught in his throat and he felt terror grip him suddenly, the memory of Lorroakan’s hands around his neck, cutting off airflow as he punished him for the tiniest slight-

He gasped, closing his eyes shut as he focused on the air in his lungs. In and out, in and out. As he attempted to slow his breathing, he reassured himself that he was safe.

There was no danger here. Just him and his savior. Just healing and kindness.

The nightmares couldn’t get him in the quiet darkness of this camp.

Something touched his shoulder gently and he nearly jumped out of his own skin, eyes snapping open. He glanced up, wide eyed like a scared rabbit about to run for the safety of a bush. Juniper’s hand fell away, alarm crossing her face before she hid it behind a mask of concern. She was so good at that, he mused as she knelt before him, eyes blazing in the dark. She was a pain in the ass who seemed to take pleasure in teasing him mercilessly, especially in front of his siblings, but when someone needed her, she was there.

He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve her friendship.

“Rolan?” Her voice cut through the fear that seized him, its softness soothing him enough that he managed to meet her gaze. “Are you alright?”

It took him a few seconds to process her words. “Uh, yes. I will be.”

He truly hoped that was true.

Juniper studied him briefly, as if she didn’t entirely believe him. All he felt was gratitude when she didn’t call his bluff, turning to other matters instead. “Would it be alright if I touched you? For the healing?”

This time his heart pounded uncomfortably in his chest for another reason. Oh, how he’d wanted her to touch him so many times before now. In affection, in attraction. In ways he almost felt guilty for thinking.

“I… Yes. If you must.”

She hesitated, whether out of worry about his stuttered response or from something she noticed in his eyes, he didn’t know. When she didn’t move, Rolan huffed in irritation, reaching out to wrap his fingers around her wrist. He made it a habit to not touch people if he could help it. He never cared for physical affection the way his siblings did. He knew that many people were bothered by the heat of a tiefling’s skin, or of a tiefling in general, and it never bothered him that others didn’t desire him.

At least, he hadn’t.

“I’m not fragile.” He snapped, placing the palm of her hand against his cheek, the searing heat of her skin a comfort he craved even if he denied it to himself. “I don’t need your pity.”

A few heartbeats passed between them before Rolan realized he was still clutching her wrist in his hand. Embarrassed and more than a little ashamed at his reaction, he pulled away as if touching her was painful, his nails digging into his palms as he simultaneously mourned the loss of her heat. Being around another tiefling shouldn’t be so difficult for him, it never had been before. Hells, he’d just spent months traveling with a caravan full of them.

But there was something about the bard who was now carefully inspecting his face that put him on edge. That made him want to be better. Be softer.

No words passed between them as Juniper’s hand hovered near his jaw, the turquoise glow of her healing magic cool and bright. His skin prickled at the sensation, unused to being tended so. She sang quietly as she worked, ocean eyes focused on his injuries. He could feel his muscles mend, his bruises soothed, the pain he’d felt for weeks fade, all gone in nearly an instant. His lungs expanded with his breath and he finally relaxed under her careful ministrations.

Her voice was captivating. He was a fool, Rolan chided himself, to have never sat and listened to her before. His thoughts were always on Baldur’s Gate, on the future he was building for himself and his siblings. Not on the people around him.

Certainly not on the woman who had risked so much for him when she had no cause to.

Rolan studied her in the fire’s glow, lavender skin dulled to a grey in the darkness, a particularly nasty scar harsh against her pretty face. It was, in that silent moment, that he noticed freckles dotted her cheeks and nose, dark against her much lighter tone. He didn’t realize he’d done it until his fingers had already brushed against her face, a soft touch that distracted her from her work.

Her eyes darted to his, a searing blue that reminded him of the hottest fires that burned in Avernus. Beautiful, dangerous… fires that could kill. That could cleanse.

A chill ran through his body, his mouth going dry as her eyes burned in the velvet darkness. He wanted to kiss her. The desire took hold of him violently. It would be so easy to slip his hands into her hair, to tug her closer until their lips met, to finally taste her after weeks of pining. To push her into the grass and kiss her until they were breathless, writhing in the dirt, bodies entwined.

Rolan dropped his hand to his lap, fighting against a wave of embarrassment, and he attempted to control his urge. “You’ve always been kind to me, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

“Rolan, no one deserves this sort of treatment. Especially you. All you’ve ever done was put Cal and Lia before everything else. I…” She hesitated before a sigh escaped her mouth. She returned to her work with a diligence he almost envied. “I want to rip him apart with my bare hands.”

Her face didn’t betray an ounce of the rage that he heard in her voice. Rolan swallowed nervously, aware of how easy it would be for her to stomp into the Tower, face down his master and decide whether he lived or died. And why did the thought of her doing such a thing light a spark of excitement in his gut?

Juniper sat back on her heels, eyes sweeping his face one final time before motioning to the rest of his body. “Where else does it hurt? I know he didn’t stop at your face.”

His cheeks flared at the insinuation. “You… You want me to undress? In front of you?”

When she met his gaze, Rolan only saw kindness and understanding, no pity, no frustration. She truly was trying to help him. “I can call Shadowheart back from the tavern if you’d be more comfortable with a cleric. Or we can go find a healer.” Her eyes became hard as if she’d realized something herself. “You are not going to continue on like this, Rolan.”

“It isn’t your choice.” He snapped, irritation curling in his gut, all lust thrown away as if it hadn’t existed at all. “Who are you to demand anything of me? Without this apprenticeship, Cal and Lia have nothing! I am all that stands between them and ruin.”

“And what happens if Lorroakan hits you too hard next time? Or the time after?” She stood, hands clenched at her sides, claws digging into her skin. Her tail lashed behind her angrily, each whip sending air and dust in his direction. “Lia and Cal need you alive, Rolan. They don’t care if you’re a famous wizard. They want you, not some stupid status.”

He was on his feet as well, refusing to be goaded into feeling guilt over something he deserved. That they all deserved. Rolan was a survivor. One day, everything he suffered would be worth it. He’d be able to give his siblings the lives they deserved. That he deserved. “You have no idea what I’ve been through to get here! I don’t need your help if I get platitudes in return.”

Juniper huffed in frustration, running one of her hands through her hair, getting irritated when her claws snagged on the waves. Without thinking, he reached forward to help untangle the knot. His skin burned at the touch of hers, but he ignored it and the flush of heat in his chest, to make sure she didn’t rip a chunk of hair from her head.

“Thanks.” She mumbled sheepishly, and while it was difficult to see her clearly, Rolan swore she was blushing, her cheeks darkening in the dim lighting.

He didn’t pull away, her hand still held gently in his between their bodies. He was surprised by the soft calluses of her fingers when he knew shouldn’t be, given her profession. But they felt strong, nimble, and he entwined his fingers with hers, unable to resist the pull she had on him. Sometimes he wondered if she purposely burrowed under his skin, making a home in his chest, making him care for her in turn.

He absolutely despised it.

If Cal and Lia could see him now… he’d never hear the end of it.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted.” He muttered, eyes on their entwined hands and for once, he felt like he was where he was meant to be. How strange a feeling. “I’m not used to…”

“Being cared for?” She finished and he glanced up to see a teasing smile on her lips. This woman never got enough of making fun of him, did she?

“Yes.” Rolan snapped before guilt assaulted him and a sigh slipped out. He needed to get better control over himself. While it was annoying, she was only trying to help him. “Be patient with me.”

Instead of being offended, her smile only widened and she squeezed his fingers gently, those mesmerizing blue eyes dancing in the shadows. “Do you need me to get undressed too, Rolan? Would that help?”

His heart jumped into his throat. She was trying to provoke him again, but by the nine hells, he was tempted to take the offer seriously. The idea had plagued him for weeks since their interaction at the Lamp Light Inn, since his little crush had taken on a life of its own. It was that very reason why he stepped closer, his chest nearly brushing hers, dipping his head enough that their horns nearly touched. “And what if I said yes?”

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise and for a moment, Rolan felt powerful. The insufferable bard was speechless, something that he didn’t think was possible. And he was the reason. Emboldened, he brought her hand to his face and laid her palm against his cheek.

Juniper ran her nails across his cheek, scraping ever so gently against his skin, and he trembled beneath her touch. “What is it you want, Rolan? I know you didn’t come here for yourself. You’re too proud for that.”

Annoyance curled in his gut, but he kept his tongue in cheek. She was trying to rile him up and he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. “I came here for you, if you must know. You looked so upset about-” He waved at his face, knowing she would understand. “I figured I’d let you heal me and see if it stroked your hero complex.”

A laugh burst from her. It was positively the most adorable thing he’d ever heard in his life. His heart danced on the sound, a song of its own. “Oh, so all of this was for my benefit?”

“Of course. Why else would I be here?”

Rolan was blushing, he knew that, but he felt stronger, bolder. Juniper had an effect on him that he didn’t completely understand, but he couldn’t deny that it was addictive. He liked how it felt. Wizard or no, his entire life had been filled with pain and loss. But here, with this woman’s hand brushing across his jaw, nails tracing a line down his throat, his heart thudding in his chest, Rolan wasn’t forced to be someone else. He didn’t need to hide.

She leaned closer, lips hovering just out of reach, and he froze when her breath ghosted against his mouth. “Why, indeed.”

Rolan inhaled sharply, the heady scent of fruity wine and whatever perfume she used assaulting his every sense. It was intoxicating, alluring, something spicy and warm. Throwing caution to the wind, refusing to think even for another second, his free hand trailed up her neck, skimming his knuckles against her pulse point before tangling his fingers in the dark strands of her hair. He wasn’t entirely sure who leaned in first, but his mouth met hers in desperation, with a hunger he didn’t know he was capable of, his heart thrumming in his blood. She slid her hands over his shoulders, linking them behind his neck and forcing him even closer. He gripped her waist for balance, nearly falling into her when she pressed her body flush against him.

A growl was ripped from his throat as she carded her fingers through his hair, loosening the strap that he kept it held back with, gripping a handful of the strands and tugging gently. The slight pain in his scalp was enough to spur him on. He kissed her harder, the taste of her on his tongue, the wine she drank earlier sweet on his lips.

When she trailed her hands down his chest, pain throbbed through him and he gasped, breaking the kiss to step back, arm holding his middle. His ribs.

He’d forgotten about his broken ribs.

Juniper stood in front of him, breaths coming in short gasps as she watched him, eyelids heavy, lips bruised from his kisses, and he was willing to break a few more ribs if it meant he could have more of her. Anything she was willing to give.

But when her eyes closed, a clear sign of her trying to regain control over herself, he knew his injuries would take precedence. Because she cared about people and that self-sacrificing streak never rested. For the first time in a long time, Rolan found he wasn’t entirely sorry to be on the receiving end of that attention.

Silently, he untied the belt at his waist, pulling the robes down to reveal his chest and shoulders to the chilly night air. He turned his face away, unable to watch as she realized how broken his body truly was… when she saw how much he was hiding from her.

Juniper didn’t speak either, only stepped closer and rested her hands on his chest where the rib sat wrong beneath his skin. Rolan flinched at the sensation of her skin against his, ready for the pain that would inevitably come. Because it always did. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched with love.

Her magic tickled as the bone mended, knitting the ribs back to their natural position. It was finished in the space of a few heartbeats, but he waited, afraid of opening his eyes and seeing one of three things in her gaze; disappointment, sadness, and the worst of all: pity.

Juniper wrapped her arms around him, pressing a soft kiss into the curve where his neck and shoulder met, and he shivered beneath her hot breath. Rolan pulled her against him tightly, burying his face into her hair, relief crashing through him so violently that he had to hold back tears.

“We’ll fix this, Rolan.” Juniper whispered against his skin, tucking her head against his neck, hands running down his back with tenderness. “I won’t let him hurt you again.”

He said nothing, only pressed kisses into her hair, knowing without a doubt that she would do something stupid to protect him, of all people. But for the first time since meeting Juniper, he was relieved. Despite having Cal and Lia with him in Baldur’s Gate, he’d been dealing with the Lorroakan situation alone for so long, he’d doubted there was a solution to it except to continue on as he had.

Now, he had hope.

With a laugh, Rolan thought the entire thing was absurd that out of everyone he could possibly trust to help him through this, it would be the hero bard who’d gotten under his skin the first time they’d met.

Juniper glanced up at him curiously, azure eyes reminding him of the beautiful skies above Elturel, and he wondered what it would be like to have her look up at him every morning. “What’s so funny?”

With his heart in his throat, Rolan pressed a kiss against her forehead, lingering briefly, not wanting to leave the warmth of her embrace or the peace of her camp. Knowing that with morning came the reality of what he had to face. What they both had to face. But for now, he was content to sit here and feel safe.

“Nothing. Let’s stay here a while longer.”

Juniper nodded, tightening her arms around him and resting her head against his chest, her tail curling around his. This perfect moment in an imperfect life. The future was uncertain, for them both, but he hoped that there would be many more nights like this.

#my writing #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 rolan #bg3 tav #tiefling tav #tav x rolan #rolan x tav #tav: juniper #juniper x rolan

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oumaheroes · 1 year

Note

I'm so sorry if I'm bothering, but reading "The Captain" has seriously floored, contaminated and infected me and I'm making a playlist inspired by it - But I was wondering if you had thoughts on Alfred and his people in that context? Because I... Like cowboy Alfred and I can't emphasize enough how many stories would emerge from Alfred losing a dual, lying dead on the ground, just to be gone by dawn and seen again in the next town over on death row to be hanged, just to be seen alive again some time later?

Like, it gives campfire stories and western-tales! 🥹

The Cowboy

Characters: America

The Captain (England)

The Artist (France)

The Cleaner (Scotland)

--------

Some say there are monsters out on the plains.

Unholy things. Dangerous things. Things that no man should see, and that would drive him mad if he ever did.

The cowboy does not believe all this. He believes in truth, cold and bitter. Life is hard out here, that is true, and sometimes a hard life does things to a man. Turns him inside out with wanting and regret. Makes him yowl for his momma at night like a child from loneliness. Cold nights, bitter winds, and dust choked skies- miles and miles with nothing but the hot sun and ghosts of old lives nipping at your heels.

Because to choose a life on the plains alone is to have come from something. To go far into the desert and stay there means that there is sanctuary in the sands that cannot be found in a town, or a village. And that life changes those who live it. Makes them see their fears manifested in order to understand them. Forces them to acknowledge their wrongs and mistakes by trapping them alone.

The cowboy is no different. He’s seen many things he wishes he hadn’t. Has done many more besides.

There’d been a boy. Many summers ago.

Bright blue eyes, golden hair. Rough broad hands of a working man, but the expensive clothes of a comfortable one. He’d rolled into town with fear behind his wide smile; twitchy fingers and a need for work with no questions asked. He’d been running from things, that was clear, and the cows don’t ask no questions. Nor do cowboys in need of able hands.

He’d been good. Been quick. Great with horses, could calm even the most spooked or rowdy with just a touch. A real gift for them, and a real love for the plains. He grew tall under the wide blue skies, expanded his chest outwards as he rode in a way that made you look at him. Talked much, talked often, but without saying anything at all.

When he’d died, the cowboy didn’t know who to send for. The boy had never mentioned his father, hadn’t spoken of his momma, not even in passing. No family and not even a family name to claim him. He’d had to leave him out there to the sun, nothing but a bright red blanket over his face to offer him shade and the cowboy’s own rings on his eyes to pay for something he didn’t quite understand. It had felt right. It had felt inadequate.

He’d been too young.

The memory of the boy haunts him. The cowboy sees their final ride in his dreams, sees the herd change direction and sees the boy react too late. Sees him realise across the cattle that he was pinned- rock of the canyon on one side, and the stampede the other. He caught the cowboy’s eye and that, that moment of knowing, seared something into him that the cowboy knows he will never forget.

Over the thunder of a thousand hooves, the boy’s scream is an unanswerable battle cry he still wakes to, even now.

The cowboy keeps moving. The herds do not stop. Rides must be finished. Life goes on.

He goes it alone. Wrings out his soul in the dust, lets it boil over with regret. Then he gets another partner. Then another. The cowboy is older, too old these days to head on out to watch the cattle without someone he trusts at his back. The world is changing around them but this life does not change, does not grow easier. Only harder, as his bones begin to hurt and his eyes can no longer spot unfriendly shapes moving in the shadows.

One night and a shared fire like any other- three men and a dog in the middle of nowhere- the cowboy looks up to see a face he knows all too well. It has been years, decades, but the boy’s face is unchanged. Still milk smooth, still full and whole.

He has a chain around his neck that glitters in the firelight. Thin gold links that hold up familiar rings, unused payment for a journey not taken. He catches the cowboy’s eye over a whisper of long ago screams and nods.

There are monsters out on the plains.

Things that creep around campsites, things that stir in the night. Things that wear the faces of long dead men, that put on old skin like clothes and come to sit quietly by your side.

The cowboy cannot look at him. He hears him breathing as the men around them talk, feels the warmth of the boy’s arm through this jacket.

‘Well met,’ the cowboy manages, and offers his old friend his flask to drink from.

The boy does not take it. He looks up at the stars, bright and endless above them, and holds the cowboy’s rings in one hand.

‘Strange, isn’t it?’ he says softly, ‘What things we can sometimes think we see.’

The cowboy’s heartbeat beats loud in his ears, ‘Too much sun does things to a man.’

‘It does.’ The boy turns and looks back. His eyes are old, hard things, ‘I’ve heard people tell all sorts of tales. Drunken ghost stories no sane man would believe.’

The cowboy’s gut screams a warning, that he is but prey in front of predator. He knows to listen, has enough sense not to question, ‘I’m too sane to believe most things.’

He meets the boy’s eye and does not look away. The fire before them cracks, and the boy breathes. There is no other sound. Then, he smiles, teeth emerging white and gleaming. It doesn’t reach his eyes. Maybe, it never did.

‘Well met, friend.’ the boys says. He claps the cowboy’s shoulder and settles back. The cowboy’s chest feels lighter, ‘I think we’ll get along just fine.’

I couldn't help myself Sunny, I was instantly inspired and it's all your fault

---------

As it was written so quickly this may well change, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone and I had to get it out there

If this story is to have a song, it's 'Ghost Rider's' by Johnny Cash which is, and always will be, an utter banger.

#hws america #aph america #alfred jones #hws #aph #hetalia #nations as they appear to humans #nations as seen by humans #heroes writes #heroes treasures

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galebrainrot2024 · 4 months

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Gale x Tav Enemies to Lovers Part 14 Gale's Perspective Writing in the airport is very distracting! So I will be editing this for a bit, and wanted to get it out so you can begin to enjoy!

Gale was mystified - his mind whirled with memory, the sensation of her fingers brushing against his lower lip and how that sent blood spiraling and pooling to his core. He took a deep breath, trying to focus on sleep. Instead, his brain turned the memory over like a coin between his fingers, rubbed smooth from the nervousness of it. Oh… how his cells thrummed with excitement when her soft fingertips wiped the sweat from his skin. Gale had been reminded more in the past few weeks of the sweetness of mortal touch, how that sudden contact causes a tidal wave of adrenaline, of need. Caused, mind you, not only through touch but plenty of stolen, subtle glances.

Apart from the orb, Tav was all he could think about. In a primal, almost heathenish way. Gale touched his face, rubbing the corners of his eyes.

Instead of sleep, though, his mind examined the other parts of the coin and thought about how each night she would accompany him by the fire to help prepare their meals - though, prepare was a generous overstatement.

The other night, Gale had the frustrating experience of trying to teach Tav something he thought was simple. Tav would be able to chop potatoes and carrots. Surely. He’d seen her weild multiple knives at once in battle, why should sedentary vegetables be significantly different?

Well. Tav proved him wrong, in so short a time it was a cosmic joke. It must have been. She wielded the knife like someone who was from another galaxy where no sharp blades on any kind existed. She even tried to chop it using the Weave and instead had made strange, splintering shapes of the vegetables. It was bewildering and also deliciously entertaining. It made no sense to Gale why Tav should be so bad at this simple thing. Gale had enough when he saw the tip get dangerously close to her fingertip.

“You wouldn’t be the first person to lose a finger if you keep hacking away like that, how are you even managing to butcher using Magic?” Gale tsk’ed and peeled the knife from her fingers as if each one was made of glass. He felt goosebumps rise on his arms.

Her face was red, her eyes full of anger and she huffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This looks… fine.” She gestured pitifully and Gale read the creep of redness. “Chopped.” Tav held up a sad looking carrot slice that was translucent. Gale cupped her hand around his mouth to hide his smile and bit the insides of his cheeks to control the rush of hormones flooding his nervous system.

“Ah… chopped.” Gale touched brushed her shoulder, “It seems we have a difference in opinion, then - may I?” Despite her over the top sarcastic eye-roll, Tav nodded and Gale stepped forward to place his fingers over hers to guide their movements. The hair on their arms mingled and quivered. “Imagine the same stillness as harnessing the Weave during combat, at the peak of adrenaline. The control you wield, even faced with the precipice of death… how all thought and time seems to fall away when you pluck at its fine strings. Cooking is similar…” Gale inhaled his exhale slow as he watched it brush the hair along the back of her neck, “allow your fingers to find the same stillness as your mind does,” he slid their hands over the potato, his body pressed against her back in the way of lovers. He tried to ignore the drumroll in his chest, the sweat that collected on his brow, his breath that felt too shallow and jagged. His voice was low, thick with emotion. “Very good.” He breathed, feeling her body tense beneath his. It made him dizzy.

“Well don’t you look…. Cozy.” Astarion sneered, repulsing the two from each other. Gale felt his nails dig into his palms.

“Just making sure she doesn’t loose a finger,” Gale said, though he realized he likely did a poor job of disguising the venom in his tone. And then Gale had excused himself to prepare the rest of the meal.

All of these small moments Gale thought of as he tossed and turned, the unconsciousness of sleep refusing to come. The orb was a firestorm in his chest and no number of magical items would quench its boiling rage, Gale was convinced he was moments away from becoming a super nova. The orb was insatiable and he felt such a profound, severe gnawing that he was having more and more difficulty concentrating or doing much else. And now even sleep was out of reach. He felt the Weave at a grave distance, and was grateful they’d be moving on soon.

Despite Halsin’s serious warning about the dangers if the Shadow Cursed Lands, they were left with little other option. He stared blankly, the heaviness of his lids juxtaposed against the fervor of his mind. Of thoughts of her.

He felt his stomach sink. With his condition as volatile as it was and with their history as it was… the secret he still guarded from her - nothing could ever come of these fleeting feelings, so why was he intent on entertaining it?

What did Gale have to offer her beyond suffering?

***

As they approached the threshold to the Shadowed Lands, Gale spotted someone who looked uncannily like someone he knew. No - it couldn’t be, though - for him to have traveled all this way… Gale felt fear seize his heart and pushed forward, ignoring the emotion to deal with later. Except, later would come sooner than expected.

“Why’s this old man just wandering about out here, doesn’t he know how unsafe it is? Unless it’s a trap” Karlach asked, slowing her pace and equipped her axe as if preparing for battle.

“Easy, Karlach,” Tav’s eyebrows jolted up and she motioned to say settle down. “If my eyes are as sharp as I think they are…” Tav squinted and Gale’s lips parted subconsciously as she concentrated. “I’d swear that is one of the most acclaimed Wizards in all the realms - Gale, what do you think?”

“Ugh, who cares what Gale thinks.” Astarion quipped and Gale felt his eyes flutter with irritation.

Gale’s tongue ran against his front teeth. Karlach tilted her head to the side and widened her eyes, pointing her axe at Astarion, “Mind your manners. Both of you.”

He loathed the days that Astarion was in the party too. He didn’t mind so long as he was left at camp, but on the rare occasion they traveled together it was like oil and water.

Gale interjected, “As much as I hate to admit to her superior observational skills, I have a feeling Tav is right - though it would rather strange for him to be here, of all places…”

Tav nudged him and stuck out her tongue a bit, pushing his shoulder and Gale felt the familiar shock. He shot her a wicked grin and held up a finger, “I said you were right, what more do you want from me?” He was goading her, but only in hopes it meant she’d return his volley. His stomach knotted with a sensation he didn’t want to place yet.

Gale was chuffed by Astarion’s groan and audible faux gagging noise. It made him swell with something close to pride. “I mean it,” Karlach hissed, “And, if this guy is who you say he is, I’m going to tell him about how you both deserve to get turned into toads.”

He felt the tops of his ears warm and allowed himself to fall behind.

As they drew closer, the person came into focus.

“I knew it,” he heard Tav whisper under her breath.

“AH!” Gale said, surprised by the finger to his side. He shot Tav a fiendish look. “What was that for?”

“I was right.”

Gale was so enamored and slightly confused by this new behavior. It evoked strong feelings from their childhood, the memories almost bleeding into the present.

“Elminster?” Gale felt the concern within his gullet grow.

“The very same,” Elminster grumbled and Tav and Gale exchanged a look. He saw concern wash over her dark irises. Gale was trying not to focus on how Tav’s eyes seemed to bore into him and how close she stood, their shoulders brushing - but just. “And a fair bit miffed he is too, finding himself forced to expose his best boots to miles of country road on your behalf.”

“Many miles you say?” Astarion asked, “From where do you hail, exactly?” Gale could sense Astarion already knew the answer to this question and was simply buying into his bumbling elder act.

“Originally?” Gale scoffed, “Shadowdale. Lately? The fanciest inns of Waterdeep. Meet, everyone, Elminster Amaur, a good friend of mine but rather more significantly he’s the most famed and respected Wizard in the realms.”

“A pleasure - you sure you’re not Gale’s granddad?” She chuckled at her joke, “I gotta be honest, I was ready to murder you back there, thank the gods these two knew who you were.” Karlach had a habit of oversharing and it was a quality he admired in his friend.

“Am I indeed? Most famed and respected errand boy, more like.” The seasoned Wizard bristled, dusting off his robes. “I was bid to spare neither time nor my own self to find you. She sent me, Gale. You know of whom I speak.”

“But why? Out with it Elminster. Please.”

“Young man, has your sojourn away from Waterdeep washed away your decorum as well as your patience? Neigh a ten-day has gone without honest fare - drank nought but what the sky entitled to my thirst.”

“Why some bread, cheese, and a cup of wine would appear unto me a feast. Surely you won’t begrudge me of some rest and repast before I get out with it?”

“Yes, Gale, where is your decorum,” Astarion snickered.

“Oh for the love of….” Gale sighed with exasperation.

“Ahh… this when, then? Hm? To your camp?” Elminster huffed impatiently. “Don’t dawdle now, you’re the one who’s in such a frightful hurry.”

“Neigh on thirteen centuries old and he still thinks with his stomach. We best follow, and see if he’s more disposed to speak plainly once it’s stopped its grumbling.”

Despite Astarion’s protests, Tav insisted they follow.

***

As Elminster explained, in too many words what Mystra was asking of him, Gale felt himself grow horribly cold. It started at the tips of his fingers and crept through his body as if he was freezing from the inside out.

Gale’s mind was still as he struggled to absorb the gravity of what Elminster unleashed upon him. He was terrified, elated… disgusted… confused. It all meshed together into a larger blankness.

Mystra’s forgiveness. Only if he died on her behalf… Yet… if Elminster’s word was true, it meant he would be reclaimed in death no longer subjected to the horrific punishment of the godless and shunned. Being spared such a fate meant everything to him. As soon as Elminster spoke the last word, Gale breathed sharply.

Quiet.

For the first time in over a year, the orb was quiet. The stillness was jarring, he had grown so accustomed to the incessant ache and to have it so abruptly silenced was… remarkable and disorienting. A sensation he had taken for granted for the entirety of his life before the orb and would never again. When one’s body hums in a chaotic roil for a year, the sudden stillness was rapture.

Although his mind was still muddled, Gale rejoined the conversation as Elminster spoke: “It is done. Both charge and charm have been committed into your care.” Elminster looked to Tav and then broadly at the remainder of their companions. “I count on you to shepherd him well on this strangest of journeys.”

Elminster paused for a moment and Gale flashed a look at Tav whose face was unreadable and pale. He reached out to touch her hand and pulled away, startled before his fingers could brush her.

“Like moons make swell and wane, the nescient seas, so too the sky strewn gods ordain the tidal fates of mortal days. And yet, a notion born in lonely hours, come ebb come flow, come all that is beneath the breadth of our dominion. Be a moon unto yourself. Even fate can break upon the shores of will.”

Gale understood. Elminster knew he could find another way. So, find another way he would.

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale #bg3 #bg3 brainrot #bg3 gale #gale x tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 smut #bg3 fluff #bg3 gale fanfiction

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fewwawifwiends · 2 years

Text

and they were roommates!!! part 2

this is part two of what has been my favourite thing to write to date

for those that followed this from part one, thank you for your patience, i hope this doesn't let you down.

for those reading this for the first time, getting to part one first might be a good idea, this is a heavily plot based smut fic (words i thought i'd never say)

warnings: s m u t , (probably) mentions of oueed and alcohol, unprotected sex, another author's note in the end.

oh and in true theo fashion, this has not been proofread, or beta'd

word count: 16,722

“i am going to kill you with my own bare hands.” great start to a family conversation. max heard his sister sigh on the other side of the line.

“whatever did i ever do this time, dear brother?”

“you know damn well what you did, you ruined my summer break!”

“oh get off it, you still have almost three weeks-”

“whose idea was rowan? yours. and a bad one at that.”

“what did she do this time?” max could hear victoria giving up, but if he knew his sister at all, she’d defend the girl to her dying breath. this was a losing battle already.

“she just up and left!”

“wouldn’t you be happy about that? having your place all to your own, the rest of your break-”

“no vic, you don’t understand.”

“oh you had sex and then she left. okay, so what’s the problem with that? don’t you do that with like, every other girl?”

“it’s not like that, it-”

“it’s exactly like that, emilian.” the use of his middle name made him cringe. “a girl left you before you could leave her. big deal. get over it.” and she hung up on him.

the sheer nerve this woman possessed was enough to drive him wild sometimes. he’d kill for his sister, but sometimes he swore he could kill her.

it wasn’t about rowan leaving after he shared his bed with her -which was pretty sacred, but for the moment a bit beside the point. it was about how she left, like a thief in the night, leaving no trace, no way of contacting her again behind. and sure, that sounds exactly like what he might have done a couple times in the past. but he hadn’t spent a week playing house with those girls, he barely even knew their name. so yes, rowan leaving like that was quite rude. and he took it personally.

defeated, he took his morning coffee to the living room and sat on the couch. it was a comfortable couch and he’d forgotten how it felt; it had been rowan’s for a bit more than a week. yet another reminder. max cursed and took out his phone, determined to find her. at least know where she went after ditching him. that would only be fair, right?

he went through his sister’s followers on instagram, a painstaking and headache inducing process, but came up empty; there was no mention of any rowan on all the handles he checked. how could a girl like that not have instagram? unless she didn’t have her name on the handle, but who does that? still, it was somewhat of a lead, so he searched again. and again. and again, he found nothing. it was like the woman was a ghost.

perhaps it was for the best to think of this as a unique, one time experience, remember it fondly and get on with his life. max really tried to ponder on that thought, internalise it, make it happen. remember rowan as a pleasurable memory. even though pleasurable wasn’t doing justice to the feeling of her soft lips around his cock. fuck, he was getting hard just thinking about it. absentmindedly he gave his cock a couple familiar tugs before shaking his head. remembering her wouldn’t work. he needed to forget.

he took a cold shower and went for a run, realising after the fact that the order of those tasks should’ve been in reverse. still, he was home alone. he could sit in his filth for a few minutes before taking yet another shower. and despite that annoyance, his headache of where rowan was was still lingering, without any signs of subsiding.

she probably went home, but where was even that? her accent didn’t give anything away, and all their conversations were in english, so she wasn’t dutch. but she wasn’t british either, she didn’t speak in an accent he recognised. but rowan is an english name.

and how did she get enough money to afford a last minute plane ticket to literally anywhere? oh god, what if she hitchhiked her way out of the country? it was a dangerous idea, as dangerous as it was free and rowan was more than capable of thinking it would work out just fine. if she wanted out so bad, at the very least she could’ve asked for a ride. stubborn woman.

she was a mystery, a ghost and a constant migraine, from the moment she walked into his life. she’d turned everything upside down and now he couldn’t even find her to… why would he need to find her anyway? give her a piece of his mind, give her front row seats to how irresponsibly she’d acted, how worried he was? as cathartic as that sounded, it wasn’t excuse enough. part of him wanted to fuck her again, he wasn’t nearly done doing everything he wanted to do to her. but it wasn’t a good idea to focus on that for the time being.

what was a better idea would be to ask victoria for help, at least rowan’s number or if she knew where she was. maybe he’d even settle with assurance that she was okay. was he really prepared to have his sister mock him for the rest of their lives over that? was that itch in his chest, the need to know worth it? the thought didn’t ponder in his head for long, as his fingers were already finding his sister’s contact in his phone and tapped on the call button.

“can you give me her number?” pleasantries were something he just couldn’t be bothered with at the moment.

“hi yourself. and wait. rowan didn’t give you her number? not even once?”

“slim chance i’d need it twice, wouldn’t it be?”

“fine be an asshole about it. and the answer is no. and before you get ahead of yourself, it’s not because i’m holding a grudge, which i should. it’s because if she didn’t give you her number, she didn’t want you to have it.”

“maybe the thought didn’t occur to her and now she can’t reach me if she wants to.”

“can’t see why she’d want to.” he could see vic just staring at her nails, indifferent, pretending to be oblivious in an attempt to bruise his ego. it would have worked if matters weren’t so pressing, so a tired sigh was the only response he gave. “okay, fine, you know what? if she calls asking for your number, i’ll give it to her. sound good?”

“but what if she doesn’t?”

“then you’ll just have to live with that.”

“vic, come on. i need to hear she’s okay. i don’t know what you think you know, but it’s more complicated than that.”

“is it now?” she chuckled. let the mocking begin.

“just… please.”

“no. getting the two of you together was a mistake, i thought i was doing an old friend a favour and hoped you’d get a kick out of it as well. but i can’t take your whining -which apparently hasn’t stopped even now that she’s gone- and god knows i won’t be able to take rowan’s as well if i give you her number. i’m sorry max, i’m not budging on that one.”

“now who’s being an asshole? and i’ll forgive you for letting her into my house without my consent if you give me her number. consider your sins absolved.”

“are you seriously blackmailing me?”

“pretty much, yeah.”

“and i’m the asshole?!”

“pretty much, yeah.”

at this point max was running out of options and he was almost certain his pacing would leave a mark on the hardwood floor. besides, a little blackmail among siblings never hurt anyone. once again though, vic hung up on him. exasperated, he tossed his phone on the couch, relived to hear it hit against the pillows and not the floor by accident.

he hopped in the shower for the second and probably not final time that day and his mind was racing through so many things at once that not even the cold water could bring to a halt. flashing memories of the last night the spent together blended with laughs shared over meals, rowan flashing him a smile as she cooked, or when he got home and found her on the couch reading a book with sassy curled next to her.

and all that was mixed with questions answered by theories that bore even more questions, mental images of where rowan might have grown up, how she ended up stranded in monaco of all places, who her friends were, how she stayed in touch with vic without max ever hearing her name mentioned once, and that was only the tip of the iceberg. regrettably for him, his sister was the only person that could even begin to answer any of those questions.

“if you’ve called to beg again, i’m hanging up right now.”

seems that it was victoria’s turn to skip the pleasantries and max chuckled as he ran a towel through his hair, trying to get most of the moisture out.

“no dear sister. even though you do love to hear me beg.”

“true. continue.” her gracious highness granted him permission.

“if i can’t talk to rowan about it, i figured i’d ask you.” he started but was quickly cut off.

“please spare me the details.”

“it’s not about that, you idiot. i just want to know more about her.”

“suppose that can’t hurt.”

finally, a win, no matter how small.

“she mentioned we went karting together when we were kids. how did you stay friends without my knowing?”

“social media is a wonderful thing. we grew apart but then i found her on social and we started talking again.”

“how well would you say you know her?”

“well enough to let her into your home, max.” patience was running thin on victoria’s end and it was max’s cue to start with the more important questions.

“how did she end up in monaco with no place to go and no way out?”

“that’s not my story to tell, max. but i assure you there’s a very good reason behind it, and you did more good than you could possibly imagine.”

“so you know she’s fine?”

“jesus, of course i know she’s okay, what kind of person do you take me for?”

“okay, good. that’s good.”

“are we going to continue playing twenty questions?”

“one last question. how are your little devils?”

“growing and a pain in the ass. they miss their uncle.” her voice softened at max’s concern. not that it was a rare occurrence, but given the circumstances, she didn’t think that there would be much room for anything else than what seemed to be his current obsession.

“i’ll be home to see them as soon as i can. i miss them too. i miss you. how are you holding up?”

“by a thread.” she chuckled. “not but really, mom and tom have been my lifesavers, i couldn’t do it all without them.”

“ouch.”

“you know what i mean, max. you can’t watch the kids while i’m having back to back meetings or when i just need a glass of wine.”

“yeah, yeah, i get it. it’s nice to feel useful though.”

“you’re loved, smart and important. but i have to go, lukas is trying to climb my leg like a tree.”

“mildly concerning. off you go, remind your son he’s a boy, not a monkey.”

“love ya.” the words were rushed and max barely had any time to say them back before he heard the sound to indicate that the call was over.

so she was okay, so the important bit was out of the way. and she was on social media, and his sister’s social media at that. perhaps he hadn’t looked hard enough. maybe going through the likes on vic’s posts would do it? a shot in the dark, but again, better than nothing.

cross-referencing handles on the likes with the ones that stood out on victoria’s followers list turned out to be more fruitful than aimlessly scrolling and trying to determine if what he was seeing seemed like rowan. or at least the version of rowan he’d come to know, and he was so consumed by his moderate success and the feeling of getting closer and closer that once again, he didn’t stop to think anything other than his goal, repercussions be damned.

had he taken a minute or two to think this over, there was a chance he could have realised that maybe rowan didn’t want to be found, especially by him and the reasons were hers and hers alone. maybe he could have seen that at the end of the day, there was nothing to really bind them except for a… unique week. like that kid you meet while on vacation, have fun with them and then never see them again, but in a moderately more adult version. and there would be nothing wrong with that. except he didn’t take a minute, there was no way for any of those thoughts to cross his mind, when finding her took up all the space in his brain. maybe it was a bruise to his ego, being left like that before even the morning after, that he needed to correct. maybe it was that raw connection drawing him back to her, pulling him like a magnet to wherever she may be. it could be so many things, and he didn’t care about any of them. the reason why didn’t matter; only the result.

finally having found an account that might have been rowan’s, max tapped on the blue request to follow button and hoped for the best. the account was private and there was no mention of her name nor was a face visible in the small avatar. It was an educated guess at best, and it could go both ways. maybe he’d have spent all that time on the wrong person. worse yet, he’d found her and she wouldn’t grant him access to the profile, deleting his request. it wasn’t a risk he was comfortable with, but it was one he had to take anyway. from where he stood, he saw no other option.

mental exhaustion was creeping in, as was a migraine that he’d somehow been holding back all this time. max locked the phone and with a flick of his wrist threw it to the side, deciding that he’d had enough screen time for the day. he thought of calling a friend, go out for a drink -or five- but ultimately, did nothing. a quiet night in would be best, to enjoy the silence and serenity his home used to offer up until the week before. he’d crack a beer, watch the sunset, annoy his cats; all things he used to do to unwind.

max did just that, and mechanically walked over to the fridge, grabbed a can and went outside, pausing only to pick up jimmy so he could annoy him with a view. and for a while, everything was back to normal, it felt like there was a way back after all. until he started to really relax though and let his mind wander as the sun sank into the ocean, coating it a warm orange and pink. the first stars were barely just twinkling when max noticed the rails on his balcony and his mind rushed to remind him how he would have loved the opportunity to take rowan right there. the light would look amazing on her skin, and now that he knew exactly how she felt, underneath his fingertips and around his cock, it was much harder to snap out of it, so he didn’t; he allowed the fantasy to play out in a hazy daydream as his hand automatically reached under his pants. as that daydream came to a climax, so did max, and the only thing he could make up his mind about was that he probably wouldn’t bother with washing those pants but throw them away entirely.

the aftermath of his orgasm had him in a trance and found himself naked in his bed, certain that he could still smell a bit of her on the pillowcase before drifting off to a dreamless sleep. but even so, he knew that there was no escaping her.

the next morning, morning number two without rowan, max fumbled on his nightstand to find his phone, with sleep still in his eyes and no luck on the first task of the day. as the gears turned in his brain, he realised that not only he’d left his phone in the living room, but he also probably slept through his alarms and without getting up there was no way of telling the time, completely forgetting about the watch he always wore on his right wrist.

heavy movement got him to the living room and as the brightness on his phone made him squint, he made out that among his usual gazillion notifications, there was one that stood out: the account he played sherlock holmes for the day before had approved of his follow request. suddenly wide awake without a single drop of caffeine in his bloodstream, max opened the notification and the person’s profile, eager to see rowan’s face again. except he didn’t. the profile was one of a perfect stranger, so the whole endeavour had proven a complete bust.

defeated and tired he started going about his usual morning routine, topped with a giant homemade iced coffee as a treat. just as he was about to settle down, his phone rang and max’s initial excitement wore off when he saw the caller id. it was just his trainer, calling to remind him that they’d see each other again toward the end of the summer break, wishing him to enjoy the rest of his vacation and making some god awful small talk. to his own surprise, max survived the call without jumping off his balcony, and tried his best to finally relax.

and that was a plan that worked for him for roughly two minutes, until his phone rang again and he answered using the reflexes bradley had worked hard to help him achieve, not bothering to hide his annoyance at the first ‘hello’.

“is that how you greet an old friend?” he heard rowan’s voice from the other end of the call. it would suffice to say he was left speechless, not really knowing how to respond. “heard you were looking for me.” she stated after the silence got a bit too awkward.

“yeah…” he stammered a reply.

“what for?”

“i was worried, you just left like that and i-”

“i’m fine, max.” she’d never called him by his first name. not when they were just talking, anyway.

“you don’t sound fine.”

“well, i am. would that be all?”

why was she so eager to hang up on him? she was the one who called him to begin with. if she wanted nothing to do with him, all she had to do was ignore him, and victoria, who without a doubt was the one that gave her his number.

“i wanted to talk. are you still in monaco?”

“no, i left yesterday.”

“great, i’ll book you a flight. where are you?”

“i don’t see how that’s necessary.”

“or i could come to you, i am on my break after all.”

“oh so nothing better to do, let’s booty call rowan via proxy?”

“you know that that’s not what this is about.”

“do i?” she raised her voice, shocked by his audacity. she only existed for him when he wanted an easy fuck. and that was okay for the first time around, but going to such lengths for a second time was excessive if not weird.

“well, you would if you knew the first thing about me. i wanted to see if you’re okay and talk about how we left things.”

“i’m fine and there’s nothing to talk about. we said it was a one time thing and i got out of your way as soon as i could, as planned. now if i’ve answered all your questions-”

“don’t you dare hang up on me, rowan.” voice was stern, words conveyed an order, not a request nor urgency.

“or what, you’ll lock me in my room?”

“i haven’t forgotten about your breaking and entering and i have a very good lawyer.”

“oh shiver me timbers!” she tried to be sarcastic, she really did. and she might have succeeded, if it wasn’t for the smile max could hear in her words. rowan wasn’t keen on testing whether max was being serious or not; she knew he wasn’t, and now he knew she knew. this entire thing was giving her a headache, one she hadn’t missed from her days staying with him.

“look, i’m really grateful for letting me stay with you. i know it wasn’t ideal for you…” she tried to tiptoe around… everything. especially the last night she was there. “and like i said, i never wanted to be a bother. so as soon as i got the chance, i left you be. doesn’t mean i don’t appreciate all you did for me.” and by god, he’d done so much more than he could ever understand. he probably didn’t even mean to, or even want to, but he’d done so much and while it was all good, unbeknownst to him, what he did or didn’t do carried so many repercussions.

“you could’ve at least said goodbye, stayed over for coffee.”

“i know, i’m sorry.” and she genuinely was. for so many things she couldn’t even begin to talk about.

max believed her. she was sorry. but that’s not what he wanted to talk to her about, an apology barely even made the list.

“are you sure you’re okay?”

“jesus verstappen, yes, i’m fine!” she chuckled, taken aback by his persistent concern.

“and you do know that you’re welcome here whenever you want, right? of course, you know where the spare key is and everything.”

“that’s very kind of you.” that was all she had to say. that was all she could say. there was no way to talk about how her mind was flooded with memories of how she got into his house in the first place, finding the spare key and letting herself in, exploring the house, getting to know max’s cats and making herself at home. only this time, along with a tang of nostalgia, those memories were altered; she could see herself letting herself in again, but this time around max would be there to greet her with a warm hug, jimmy and sassy would instantly tangle themselves between her legs, and maybe she’d fall, but max would catch her. she’d played house for too long. but though she tried, there was no shaking those thoughts away.

“so you still won’t come?” only when he spoke did rowan realise how long the silence was.

“don’t you have better friends to spend your vacation with?”

“of course i do. but i want to spend it with you.” there was a a deliberate pause between his sentences. it was a sweet sentiment. such a shame rowan didn’t buy it. all she heard was that he wanted easy access to a good fuck for the rest of the month.

“i thought you couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.” she tried to remain civil.

“oh just get your ass over here. even for just two hours. one coffee. or drink. or dinner. anything.”

“verstappen, are you asking me out?”

“you wish.” he scoffed, a little too quick to dismiss her. “can i be completely honest?”

“no. lie to me.”

“i don’t want you to come, i don’t ever want to talk to you again, i’m not even in the tiniest bit worried about how the fuck you got out of monaco. and of course i haven’t spent the past two days trying not to think about you.” those would have been the hardest lies max would have ever told, save for the smile lacing his words. “so no, i don’t want to see you. i dread the thought of having this conversation in person.”

rowan wasn’t quite sure how to respond. it was obvious he didn’t mean any of that. so why did a part of her wish he did? why would she think it would be easier if it were true? there was resentment in her heart, for fluttering even just a little when she heard him speak.

“okay, i’m hanging up now, good talking to you verstappen.”

“what did i tell you about hanging up on me?” there he was again, using his serious voice, leaving rowan just holding the phone, motionless and staring at the wall. how did he manage to have such a hold on her? wasn’t she better than that already? apparently not. or at least not as much as she’d like to think. “still there, aren’t you?” she could hear his smirk and it was infuriating.

“yes.” she replied through gritted teeth.

“good. if you’re not coming to me, let me come to you. where are you?”

“home.”

“and where would that be, princess?” god, she could kill him for that condescending tone in a heartbeat.

“you are not coming here.”

“try me. text me the address.” and he hung up on her. fuck max verstappen.

but in a twisted turn of her brain wirings, rowan did text him the address, curious to see if he’d keep his word; conflicted on whether she wanted him to keep it or not.

the next few of hours had been a blur for max, from packing a small suitcase -just in case- to making arrangements for his jet to be wheels up asap, everything had felt a little like a fever dream, not quite there but still hanging tight on reality.

rowan on the other hand was enjoying a glass of chilled white wine at the comfort of her home, devouring a random -and probably not so good- book she picked at the airport. she couldn’t care less about the plot. getting even tipsy while also actively trying not to think about max was an achievable goal for the evening. it’s not like he’d be knocking on her front door, why would he do that? it was an exchange, he have her his couch and she gave him home-cooked meals, she let him have some of her pot and he gave her three orgasms. tit for tat, end of exchange and conversation.

sure, she left in a rush, but she did apologise for that. and that’s the reason she got his number from victoria in the first place. and when vic texted her to let her know that max was looking for her, she put on a brave face and went about it as maturely as she possibly could. she did wonder for a minute or two if it was enough, but dismissed the thought entirely. she did get the apology out of the way and it was sincere. that was all that mattered, and it gave her closure. it felt good, to actually get some of that, closure. it was a new feeling, but damn it was finally right. a chapter closed. said and done. so why did the protagonist in her book look like him when she pictured him?

rowan did try to rationalise it, she really did. he’s the last man you actually saw, it’s only natural he’s the first person to pop in your head when reading about a blonde guy with blue eyes. he was practically the only person she saw for a week, that’s how she’d made any sense out of it, entirely forgetting his friends at the club and having the stranger she’d been dancing with that night completely erased from her memory.

if she had to be honest with herself, her attempt at actively not thinking about max was not going so well. but she didn’t have to be honest with herself, so only a small effort was wasted on silencing that voice in her head and trying to focus back on her book. her concentration did not break, even with the distinct sound of the intercom in her apartment buzzing.

mechanically, she walked over to the device on the wall next to her door and pushed on the small button, eyes still glued on the page she was on. it was probably the ubereats she forgot she ordered. except it wasn’t, and as she stood by the open door, leaning on the frame with the book in her hands, she looked up to greet the delivery guy. instead of a cholesterol induced heart attack in a bag however, what stood before her was max, in the flesh.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” she managed to say after staring at him for a couple of seconds at a complete loss.

“you did text me your address.”

“and here you are.”

“obviously.”

“why.” not a question, a statement.

“jesus christ, i told you! i wanted to see you, talk to you. in person.”

rowan let him in and took her seat on the stool of the kitchen island, leaving the book and taking a hold and a brave swing of her wine. max was following suit, albeit a little confused at the girl’s reaction. for him it was so straightforward and obvious that he’d be there, like they’d made plans for coffee.

“okay, talk.”

“how did you leave?”

“booked a flight.”

“thought you were broke.”

“someone in my family finally came through.”

“why didn’t you say goodbye?”

“is this a conversation or twenty questions?”

“it is whatever you want it to be. so, why didn’t you say goodbye?”

“i want this to be over.”

max’s face fell. rowan was serious; her tone had not changed from the moment he stepped through the door, emotionless. maybe she meant the conversation. maybe she meant whatever they had. either way, max was not prepared for such an answer. against all evidence, he was sure that rowan wouldn’t be that person, she wouldn’t be the one to be so harsh and borderline rude. but here they were, staring at each other without saying a word.

“if you didn’t want me here why did you tell me where you were? hell, why did you call?”

both perfectly valid questions that the girl did not have the answer to. impulsive decisions she thought herself wiser than to make. there was no plan to backfire, but that was exactly what it felt like. max put her on the spot and she couldn’t do anything but keep staring back at him.

the man could go on a rant on how fucked up this was, but it would be pointless. it was evident that he was not wanted there and he started questioning why he went through all that trouble. with a sigh, he gave up after a few moments of trying to find a reason to stay, to excuse this whole charade and convince himself that he was welcome.

“nevermind, forget i was ever here. or that any of this happened. whatever. have a good one.” he muttered while looking down and turning on his heels to leave.

in another impulsive decision she was sure to regret, it was rowan’s turn to grab him by the wrist and prevent him from leaving.

“i’m sorry. i’m going through some stuff.” she had no intention of opening up that can of worms, especially not to max verstappen. he had better things to do than waste his time on her issues and she should be better than to drag him in them. perhaps it might have been for the best to let things end like that, plain badly, two people with enough resentment for each other to help them move on faster than the speed of light. but she couldn’t bring herself to do that. she was not this person and he deserved better.

“hope it gets better for you soon.” he freed himself from her grip and continued to make his way to the door, not bothering to look at her. his patience was running thin and from nothing, this had become something and that something was no laughing matter. his temper was getting the best of him, casting a shadow over rowan’s poor attempt at an excuse.

with a loud thud the door closed behind him and max was out of the door and her life, exactly like she walked out of his.

a couple days went by with radio silence. max was almost content with the idea that his life would continue to be exactly as he expected it before it got turned upside down and inside out by a virtual stranger. in this endeavour, in the midst of his summer break when he didn’t have intense training and strategy sessions to drain all his energy, or the adrenaline of a grand prix weekend, but instead he had all the free time in the world, he took up a new hobby to fill his time. sat in his balcony, overseeing the sea as the sun painted everything in pink and orange hues, he had a thick and well recommended fantasy book in one hand and a tall glass of iced tea in the other to combat the heat.

all seemed well for him, a good 80 pages into the story that had him immersed enough to almost not notice the unexpected buzz of his phone. the screen lit up with a notification, a text from rowan and all his peace and quiet fell apart in nanoseconds.

puzzled and curious, he opened it only to find himself even more puzzled and curious. it was a selfie, and she was in an uncharacteristically seductive pose; it was a mirror selfie, in what max could only presume was her bedroom, and there would be nothing weird about that. in the background he could see some minimalistic decorations on the wall and a plant that was close to dying hanging from the ceiling.

so, nothing out of the ordinary, save of course for the black satin nightdress that hung just below her hips, with thin lace straps and lining on the bust to bring just enough attention to her neck, shoulders and chest without revealing too much. and again, that may have been okay, but it wasn’t just that. she was staring at her reflection on the phone with an intense gaze and she had a nail in between her teeth, lips parted just enough. it wasn’t her bare legs, the thought of the satin fabric in between their bodies or even the tasteful hints at her body that made his cock twitch; it was her face and her eyes. it was those lips that he now knew damn well what they felt like.

he thought of replying with words -the debate of whether he would reply or not never even took place in his head-, but it felt strangely inadequate. he needed to pay back with the same coin, it was a matter of principle. in autopilot, his body dragged him to his own bedroom, where he took a similar photo. there was a small debate however, on whether it would be a serious one, him trying to do his thing, or if he’d full on imitate rowan’s pose. he thought of the latter to be the safest option, so there he was, in front of the very same mirror he was intent of having her see their reflection of their bodies colliding, fucking hard and fast, standing with only his grey athletic shorts, one finger hanging from his mouth, eyes fixed on the image on his screen. and send.

‘you’re not not malena.’ came her reply as fast as her fingers could type.

‘how perceptive of you’

‘this was not intended for you’

‘oh yeah? and who’s it for?’ obviously it was not for him. it would be stupid of him to think that after everything, she’d reach out again. perhaps it was even more stupid of him to engage. but he couldn’t resist. and the thought that she’d be sending those kind of photos to anyone else made his blood boil. he didn’t have any right to feel that way but that changed nothing. another stupid thing of him.

‘none of your business’

and she could’ve left it there. she sent the message and there were no more dots on the screen on either end. max was still staring at his phone though, and even though he didn’t know it, so was rowan. she fucked up. so damn much, it was almost incomprehensible. she’d left max with no explanation once before, he didn’t deserve for this to happen again.

‘it was for my best friend. her contact is usually the only one staring from m on my phone’ it was the truth. but would it be enough? would he leave it be? how much of an even bigger mess could she create?

‘and you send those kind of pics to all your best friends?’ a fair question, which demanded more explanation. rowan didn’t know whether to bite on her nails even harder to ease the anxiety or feel entirely exasperated. max was not just any man who would be satisfied with breadcrumbs. she knew better than that, appreciated and respected that. but at that point, it was not working to her advantage.

‘she needed some inspiration, spice things up with her boyfriend’ she yielded and told the truth again, no evasiveness.

‘you’re a good friend’ rowan chuckled bitterly at his response.

‘i try my best’

‘am i your friend?’ he couldn’t resist. apparently his self control had gone out the window for anything that concerned rowan and this was a new and wild feeling in his chest, like a fire that he didn’t have the means to put out, and it never really went away; it just felt a little bit more at home sometimes.

‘no. we’re not friends, max.

and i think it would be better if you lost my number.’

‘we both know i’m not going to do that’

‘and what do you intend to do?’

‘come over again and remind you why that would be a bad idea.’ which was a colossally bad idea in its own accord. the only justification max could give to why it sounded like a sound solution to the problem building inside of him was how hard she made him. he was thinking with his dick and there wasn’t much he could do to help it.

‘you’re talking big, verstappen’

‘don’t make me show you big’

‘go ahead, see if i’m phased’

max was not the person to send dick pics. he’d never done it and he could never see himself do something like that. that said, just a a close up of his crotch, the outline of his hardness clearly visible with his thumb tucked underneath and pushing the hem of his pants down ever so slightly was not a dick pic. one might even consider it tasteful.

rowan’s eyes were glued to the screen, unable to look away. he had some nerve, pushing boundaries like that. she did bring this on herself, although the blame game was not something she could focus on when her mouth was hanging agape and borderline salivating. so yeah, she was phased, and that much was evident from the radio silence that lasted a minute or two, which rowan spent looking at the photo.

‘not phased, huh?’

cocky son of a bitch.

‘so what you mean to tell me is that this didn’t remind you how it felt inside you

how it felt when i was fucking you

while you were touching yourself

cumming all over me’

rowan fell back on the bed, trying to find some soothing and cooling comfort in her white sheets with little success. even if her eyes weren’t running over the screen again and again, the words were etched in her mind, along with the memories they brought up to the surface. she remembered damn well how it felt, have him keep her eyes on them as he was pounding into her and her own hand was shamelessly rubbing her wet folds.

as if in a trance, the memory started blending with the present as her hand started reaching downwards, ready to recreate at least some of the sensations. before she could get below her belly, a ding from her phone brought her back to reality and she physically shook her head to try and get rid of the urges that had overcome her, thankful for the distraction. until she opened the notification.

‘still want me to lose your number, baby?’ fuck, the hold he had on her was out of this world. did he know what that word did to her? but this was not a good time to give in. so she decided to give up.

‘you’re a big boy, verstappen

do whatever you want’

‘what i want

requires consent’ he was not letting go, making this so much harder for rowan.

‘why can’t you let go?’

‘because you won’t let me’ he thought of whether he should elaborate on that or not. maybe it would feel better, that raging feeling, if he did.

‘because you just walked into my life

gave me an amazing week

and just fucking left, rowan.

without a single explanation or a god damn goodbye

and as much as i hate this, you have me hooked.’

‘because i left and bruised your precious ego?

you’re such a man.’ this was actually doing her so much good, it was slowly letting her get out of his hold, tearing down all the pedestals her little mind was too busy putting him on.

‘because you made me feel something and then you left.’

‘yeah, made you feel how good it is to have your cock sucked.’

‘phenomenal’ he had to admit. ‘but beside the point

the point is that i thought we made a good team

label that however you want.’

it was surreal, how they were having that conversation over texts. max had never had a serious discussion over text, he’d barely had one over the phone. the timing was as bad as any other moment. he may have let rowan push him out twice, but he wouldn’t let her get away from it this time; not without telling how he saw things.

rowan on the other hand was speechless yet again. the nerve, the audacity, the way he just went out and bared himself- it almost made her jealous.

‘you don’t want me on your team, verstappen’

‘it’s fine, i can fuck anything that’s bothering you out of your system ‘

‘is this all about sex to you?’

‘with you, it’s an added bonus

so is that a yes?’

he’d made up his mind. she didn’t want him involved in her drama and that was more than fine with him; there was not a single cell in his body that wanted to be involved anyway. what he did want was to be close to her, and to his own surprise, he’d been honest: it was not all about sex, but it was a great bonus. what it was mainly about was to get that feeling back, when they could be in the same room without talking and still feeling comfortable, when their endless banter was equally infuriating and entertaining, when he was with someone he didn’t have to explain himself to because they just get him. when his house felt like home, even for just a few days.

rowan had never felt more confused about such a straightforward statement. actually, confusion wasn’t the primary emotion; first, she was conflicted. whatever max could mean exactly, it wouldn’t matter one bit if it was the worst idea in any plane of existence. she tried to imagine how having anyone new in her life at the moment would play out and it all ended in blood, sweat and tears. she was not in any place to bring someone else into her shit, it would be selfish and irresponsible of her. but what if max didn’t have to be involved? not directly, anyway. suddenly, it felt like his proposal made sense.

‘even if i were to say yes

which im not

what would i be saying yes to?’

‘you clearly need a distraction

so do i

i don’t know what’s going on with you

you have no idea what’s going on with me

we just enjoy each other’s company whenever we feel like it.’

‘and that involves sex.’

‘would you get your mind out of the fucking gutter?’

‘maybe you can fuck that out of me as well ’

‘can’t believe i’m saying this

rowan please focus.

are we a team?’

she didn’t reply straight away. she wanted to get this over with, rip the bandaid. tell him that this would never work, that it was inevitable things would get complicated, one way or the other. but she couldn’t bring herself to say, or even type the words. so she waited until it would feel easier to do.

hours passed and day gave in to night, and rowan had still not touched her phone, entirely out of fear that she’d say the wrong thing, whatever that was. she got ready for bed early for her standards, but the heat along with the emotional toll she bore was getting too much. once her head hit the pillow, her mind started drifting and scrambled thoughts came down to one: max. she decided that visualising their texts like a face to face conversation would help her make up her mind, see how that would never work and finally put things to rest with a simple no. one word, two letters.

at first, she imagined him alone in his room, in his bed, like she’d been, and as the conversation progressed, her mind inserted more details. she could see first hand every eye roll, every exasperated sigh, every grimace at her replies, every single time he held his breath as she typed. before long, her physical presence was inserted to the scene, and it was as if max couldn’t see her at first, still hooked on his phone. he was typing away furiously, and rowan wandered at which part. he was typing a lot… and then it was as if she could hear his thoughts that got transcribed without much alteration.

“how it felt when i was fucking you, while you were touching yourself, cumming all over me”

rowan heard herself audibly sigh as she heard those words fall from his lips. it was one thing to read them, and entirely different to hear him say them, even in her mind. that was what seemed to get max to realise that rowan was sitting next to him on the edge of the bed, one knee bent on the mattress, body turned to face him. and that seemed to help him notice that she was there, in the actual room with him.

“still want me to lose your number, baby?” a cocky smirk laced his lips as he looked at her with eyes that were way too sure of the answer for rowan’s comfort. in her mind at least, max knew exactly how weak that word made her and she hated him for it. in fact, she hated him enough to attack him in the only way she knew how: by kissing him feverishly, quickly straddling him and breaking contact only to remove her nightgown.

what followed was an exact replica of their last night together, every touch, word, sound replayed in her mind and all she could do was ride along, try to satiate the hunger with her fingers. soon -sooner than usual- it was over and instead of a clearer head, as she expected, she was left with an empty feeling in her core and one word tumbling out of her mouth.

‘yes’ she typed out and tapped on send, turning her phone off right after, ensuring a very sleepless night ahead.

max received the text hours later from his last message to rowan. specifically, it was almost 4 am and he hadn't slept a wink. it's not like he didn't try to sleep, get his mind off things, but it was as futile an attempt as the ones that came before that.

he tried to avoid thinking about what rowan might be doing or thinking to take this long to respond, if she was going to reply at all. and even in his wildest fantasies, he would have never guessed that the girl spent the better part of those hours fantasising about him, edging herself in denial time and time again before finally giving in and texting him back. after all that had happened, rowan thinking about sex, with him especially, wouldn't cross his mind. perhaps because that was exactly what he'd done, and the chances of her doing the same seemed slim to none. either way, her text had found him sleepless and frustrated in more ways than he cared to count. finally, as his screen lit up in the middle of the night, he was able to close his eyes and rest, curious and excited about the days to come.

‘does that mean you're coming back?'

'in your dreams, verstappen'

'in my dreams you're already here'

'good, you can savour the feeling then'

'are you ever going to stop acting like a brat?'

'am not.'

'are too'

'im not playing this game'

'okay, what do you want to play?'

'youre unbelievable and im an adult with responsibilities.

surely your spoiled ass wouldn't know how that feels like'

'youre impossible'

and that was it. the bubbles vanished and suddenly his phone lost all the excitement it ever held, feeling just like another tiny and slim brick in his hand.

max decided to go for a run, and in the midst of sweat and trying to control his breathing, his mind wandered. unsurprisingly, to rowan. what was a surprise however was the fact that his thoughts were not occupied with her in a similar situation, skimpily dressed, skin glistening with sweat and shaky breathing. no, this time all he could do was wonder how he ended up in that situation, entangled so deeply and so fast that he'd defied all defence mechanisms he'd worked so hard on building up all those years.

he'd become a master of keeping everyone at bay, showing them only parts of him that made them feel okay and him safe. his friends were few and unknowingly tested over the years, and that's how he liked it. and then came she, barging into his life and having him express his... ugh.. feelings in what, two weeks? that was a level of vulnerability no one had achieved, not even his sister.

what was so special about rowan? or what had broken in him to have them end up like that? it was so fucked up he couldn’t even tell what they ended up like. like friends? lovers? were they in a relationship? that was the only thing that was surely off the table. sure, they’d spent a week together, but he didn’t know anything about her at the end of the day. and he wasn’t one to risk himself and his career with a relationship. what he did know was that he wanted her in his life and the only logic that kicked in was to ensure that it would be in the most no-strings-attached way possible.

he’d never been this impulsive, always calculated and focused. now he could barely keep his head in taking the route he did every day for his runs and that was a problem in more ways than simply ending up someplace else entirely and winding up a bit lost for half an hour. and that was all on her. even if he didn’t really know who she was or what she was to him, it was her.

he’d given up on trying to convince himself that it wasn’t about rowan, that it was just about a good fuck and having someone else in the house rather than being alone. but he liked being on his own, he’d never questioned it before. and he could throw a pebble and it would land on a girl who could give him a good fuck. well, admittedly, perhaps not as good. he was ways away from getting her out of his system. he hated to think that, but rowan was… special. he lacked a better word, he hated the word ‘special’. but any other adjective would just not be enough; anything else would only scratch the surface and he was itching to scratch and scratch and scratch until he felt satiated. if one thing made sense in his entire uncharacteristic behaviour was that bottom line, it was all for selfish reasons. it made him feel good and if rowan got something out of it -which he’d make sure she did, because funnily enough, he enjoyed that as well- even better. maybe it wasn’t about her, after all. maybe it was about him. and that bit of rationalisation made sense, enough to make his mid grow a little quieter, even for a while.

as he headed home and turned the key into the lock of his apartment, the silence was deafening once more, even more so now that his brain wasn’t blasting at full volume thoughts and images trying to make two and two equal five.

jimmy and sassy were quick to rub on his legs as soon as he took off his shoes, making sure to follow him around as we went to the bathroom to wash his hands and face before gathering up enough strength for a full shower. cats still magically not tripping over his feet, he took a short video and sent it to rowan, as if it were totally normal. ‘they miss you’ his text read.

‘i miss them too ‘

‘are you going to do something about it?’

‘are we still talking about the cats?’ she spent a minute or two thinking over the text before sending it. as much as she loved the furry little bastards and did miss them, they were not exactly what she wanted to talk about.

‘of course we are. kittens love the attention

i think they feel a bit neglected ever since you left

a few seconds passed before his next text, words that begged to be let out.

do you have anything else in mind that might need my attention?’

‘hm… i’d have to think about it’ she tried to buy a bit more time, keep herself from making mistake after mistake.

‘i’ll hop in the shower. when i come back, i expect to look at my phone and see a response’

and true to his word, he put his phone down and jumped in the shower, leaving rowan speechless. she had about ten minutes to decide her course of action. she could just give him a list of all the quirks of jimmy and sassy she’d come to know, point out that that’s what he needed to pay attention to. that would be the sensible thing to do, kill the vibe and get out. fast.

her mind however raced towards other alternatives, swinging between sending him another photo of her, this time on purpose, or just fucking with him to get a reaction. the clock was ticking and she was running out of time. quickly, she typed in: ‘a response’ and tapped on send. now all she had to do was wait -not so patiently- for a text back.

max opened the text and sighed. he should’ve seen that one coming, of course rowan would be annoying about it.

‘when you’re done playing games, i’d like to have a conversation

like adults’

in a not so weird word association game, hair brain hot wired and she went to work, standing in front of the mirror. she was on her knees, legs spread and ass touching her heels, her oversized tshirt riding up on her hips. she tried to tug the shirt downward, in what could be perceived as an attempt to keep her modesty -but in reality, it was outlining her breasts perfectly as the fabric stretched over her shirt. satisfied, she snapped the photo and then tried something even more straightforward, dragging a her index finger over her stomach and upwards, taking her shirt along, leaving her panties exposed, her stomach and just a bit of her cleavage. snapping another photo, she couldn’t decide which one she liked best, so it was only wise to send both.

the first one was followed by a text:

‘adult enough for you?’

and without wasting any more time, she sent the second one.

‘how about now?’

he was going to kill her. or she was going to kill him, whichever came first. all annoyance -and everything else- forgotten, his reply was a simple statement.

‘looks like there is something else that needs my attention’

‘i can manage perfectly fine on my own, thank you’

‘show me’ he got bold and he knew it, but damn that woman knew exactly which buttons to press.

‘looks like you can’t manage on your own’

‘don’t test me.’

‘or?’

‘or i’ll be knocking on your front door again’

‘and i won’t let you in’

‘we both know you will’

she would. as much as she hated it, one way or another she was at his beck and call, wrapped around his finger with no means of escape. rowan though didn’t want an escape. what she wanted was more of that quiet in her mind when he was with her, how everything went away but that moment, how easily it all flowed and how she could be true to herself without feeling judged, because max was just as bad.

if max were knocking on her door, she’d be letting him in without a second thought, or wasting a single precious moment before closing any and all space between them. while her mind being so completely and utterly calm in his presence, her body was on fire, one he could ignite with just one simple text. by god, she hated him for it. he had her focused, only for him. max held too much power and he could never find that out.

what she couldn’t nor wanted to hide was all this back and forth had her frustrated beyond anything she could have ever imagined. as much as she liked bragging earlier, she could not manage on her own, no matter how hard she tried. all she could do was try again and again and again, as she already had. no matter how many times her body convulsed or how sore her fingers were, it wasn’t enough.

‘and even if did, then what?’

‘then i’d be more than happy to show you that i can make you cum better than those pretty little fingers of yours’

‘go ahead then

show me, if you’re so good.’

he didn’t reply. max was very close to complying, keeping true to his word and spending the next three hours getting back to her door. deciding that he’d have enough though, he booked rowan tickets for the next flight to monaco and scheduled an uber to be at her place three hours before the departure. if his math was correct, she was a bit more than twelve hours from being back at his place. his resolve had been tested enough. it was time hers was too.

‘go to sleep baby

i’ll have a surprise waiting for you in the morning’

rowan woke up the exact same way she fell asleep: abruptly and with very little sense of the time. her phone was blowing up, someone kept calling her and interrupting her restless sleep.

“what?” she picked up the phone with sleep still in her voice, angry for the rude wakeup call.

“wake up, your uber is waiting for you downstairs.” she heard max’s voice and then the distinct sound of the call dropping, not giving her any time to ask the questions that were popping up one by one. what uber? where was she going? what time even was it? was he serious?

she got up at lightning speed and looked out her window. it sure looked like an uber was waiting, but she still wasn’t convinced it was for her. curiosity winning the battle against her soft bed, she got hastily dressed and made her way to the car.

“you rowan?” spoke the driver from his rolled down window, finger gliding his sunglasses down his nose to look at her.

“yeah…” pieces were clicking together. max did not bullshit her. which made things even weirder. “can you give me like, 10 minutes? keep the meter running, or whatever ubers have.” and with that she turned around and ran back inside her apartment.

she’d never gotten ready so fast in her life, brushing her teeth while peeing and thinking of what she needed to pack -just in case. in a record time of 7 and a half minutes, she was already on her way back down, small bag with the essentials packed.

thanking the driver for waiting, she got in the backseat of the car, debating on whether it would be too rude to ask him to stop for a coffee to go. after a while that seemed too long, her chance was gone and she was being driven around, abruptly woken up from a restless sleep without a single shot of espresso to make things easier. hell, at that point, she’d go for an instant coffee from the supermarket if that meant her eyes would stop watering and closing, and her jaw would keep its place as the relentless yawning would stop.

she must have dozed off for a part of the drive, as her eyes opened up wide when the car was decelerating, assuming they’d reached their destination, leaving rowan confused. why was she at the airport? she was broke, looking at the taxi meter on the driver’s app, she was about to be even more broke. someone needed to pay that man 45 euros as if she wasn’t strapped in for cash already. still, reluctantly she got her wallet out, hoping and praying that she’d have enough.

“oh no, it’s already paid for.” she heard the man say and a weight was lifted off her chest. it was in that exact moment she realised that she and her 50 euros would need to last more than some of her past relationships if she was going to survive.

either way, she felt an obligation to leave the man a tip for having put up with her, parting reluctantly with a 5 euro bill, a wide and fake smile plastered on her face and a thank you so much leaving through gritted teeth.

thankful to be out of the car and near anywhere she could get herself a coffee, rowan made her way inside, in search of a coffee shop more than anything else. her search was quickly derailed however, from a buzz coming from her phone. another text from max.

‘hope you enjoyed the ride’

‘maybe it would’ve been better if you were driving’

‘maybe

but now you have a plane to catch, get your ass to your gate!!!’

‘i never booked a flight??”

‘i did

sending you over the information now’

and sure enough, within a few seconds time, her phone buzzed with another notification, an email forwarded to her in screenshots with all information necessary for her to board the next flight to monaco, which left in a bit more than an hour. just enough time to go through security and maybe enjoy a coffee at the gate, if she turned her steps to strides that would match a marathon runner. god she needed a smoke. anything to fill up her lungs sounded so damn good. but she quit ‘conventional’ smoking a few months ago -curtesy of her ex- and she wasn’t about to pick it up again now.

instead, she put on her big girl shoes, strapped them up and determined to yell at max to his face for ruining her day, she started going through all the airport motions she hated with a passion. a couple kilometeres of walking through the unending hallways of the airport, rowan found herself in front of her gate which was oh so conveniently house also to a starbucks. without thinking of her bleeding wallet she got herself a venti iced salted caramel macchiato and sipped it as she waited to board.

her mind was surprisingly quiet considering the circumstances, but she could barely register what had happened, much less overthink it as the caffeine was still slowly working its magic in her system. there was not a memorable thing about the airport, but she absentmindedly made a point of noting the blue on the seats, the yellow-ish beige of the curtains, even how many outlets were around here and how strategically and practically they were placed. to her surprise and amusement, it looked like there were enough outlets for a busy day. rowan also really wanted to people watch, but her plans fell short when she realised that in her near vicinity the only people were herself and the nice lady at the gate who was waiting patiently to get the order and board rowan into the plane.

the call finally came and rowan had her ticket checked and escorted into the plane, past where she thought she’d be seated and straight into business class. max hadn’t cheaped out on the expenses, and probably unbeknownst to him, didn’t make anything too extravagant that would leave her in an awkward situation. business class was not first class and it certainly wasn’t his private jet. an uberx or whatever they were called was more than a simple uber, but it still wasn’t a rented limousine or anything like that. and now that rowan was caffeinated -still not quite ready to face the weird day ahead, but at least caffeinated- she could appreciate how he didn’t go all out. it didn’t seem like a desperate cry for help or attention. it seemed like what it probably was: getting her there and having her arrive in comfort, which was greatly appreciated. it didn’t make up for the fact that he dragged her out of the comfort of her own bed and house on a fucking whim, though.

when she finally planted her feet in monaco soil, rowan was looking around like a lost puppy, trying to see if max had rented out yet another car to drive her around, or if she could take her own cab this time around, feel a bit more like a person and herself. god forbid anything that involved max would ever feel normal.

a black aston martin vantage caught her eye -just because she got out of racing what felt like a lifetime ago didn’t mean her love for anything on wheels faltered- and its driver was none other than today’s nemesis, the man responsible for all her trouble the past two weeks and jesus christ he looked good with his hands nonchalantly on the steering wheel. she could make out his sandy blond locks and the structure of his face through the tinted glass and that was enough to purposely walk towards the supercar.

seeing her walk towards him like that was almost menacing and max’s excitement only grew. the uncertainty rowan brought was now something expected, something he’d come to cherish, knowing that she wouldn’t just vanish again. deciding to help her out as much as he could, he stepped out of the car, opened the passenger side door for her and met her halfway, taking her bags.

“i can do that myself” she protested, but max was too quick, already a few steps ahead with her luggage in hand.

“hi yourself. yes, it is a nice morning” he mocked at her lack of curtesy, not because he was bothered by it, more because he could. “can’t you let me be a gentleman for once?”

“i thought you were never gentle.”

“i do have a reputation to uphold, trouble.” he turned around and gave her a knowing wink. he felt a warmth in his chest after seeing how well she remembered their first real conversation.

the car ride was silent, but in true them fashion, it was not an awkward one and max was thriving, convinced that this mistake was the biggest right he’d ever done. the rules were simple and not constrictive, he felt free. in the midst of a season that put immense pressure on him, as the reigning world champion with criticism that regardless of his hard earned lead in the current championship, this would be the second win ‘handed’ to him, this was how he’d truly relax, get away from it all. it was hard to keep the smile forming on his lips, or it would be if he tried even a little bit.

“why am i here, verstappen?” rowan broke the silence and he couldn’t actually decipher her tone. was she being simply inquisitive? was this a question meant to put him in the spot, give her a way out? either way, he wouldn’t reply with anything else but the facts he saw.

“because you want to. you could’ve told me to fuck off about a dozen times.” it was a reminder she needed, but didn’t really appreciate. she opened her mouth to protest, but max cut her off. “and because we need a distraction. wasn’t that the deal?”

“yes…” came her begrudged reply after a few moments of trying to think of a comeback, a reason to tell him to turn the car around and let her go home.

in all honestly, her home didn’t feel like home anymore. although she wasn’t very familiar with the streets of monte carlo, it felt more like home than her own neighbourhood. max being there didn’t hurt either. in fact, he was the reason this place felt so nice instead of a need to burn to the ground. so many things had happened there and their time together, no matter how weird or short, helped her feel like it wasn’t the end, like there was a way to move forward. unorthodox, selfish, maybe even a little bit toxic -only time would tell. but a way nonetheless.

the rules were that max was not to get dragged into her shit, and she was not get dragged into his. fair, simple and important enough. so if she wasn’t to break those rules, she needed to get out of her head; she needed him to get her out of her head.

“will you make good on your promise?”

“i always do. but what promise?” he turned to look at her, confusion clear on his face.

“that you’d make me cum better than my fingers.” desperate times called for desperate measures and rowan was starting to be a master at that. she could never remember herself being so vulgar in the past, and that in itself was making her blush and look straight ahead into the open road, even though her words did not falter.

“all in good time, trouble. let’s get you settled in first.” his voice was warm, sweet and surprisingly, his words didn’t make her want to open the door and throw herself into the traffic. instead, she felt her priorities shift as she remembered how good it felt to just be in his company, forcing herself to take in the moment and things one step at a time. there was no rush and despite of what she’d like to convince herself of, this wasn’t a plainly physical transaction. max had made that clear; it wasn’t just about sex. it was about a distraction, sex being part of it. maybe she could finally let go and be. even for once in her life.

silence laced the atmosphere once again and neither of them cared to break it, not even when they were out of the car and into the elevator, on their way up to max’s apartment. what did change was that max was holding her luggage on one hand while the other travelled along her back, in an aimless back and forth motion. he didn’t even realise he did it until he needed the hand to get his keys. rowan hadn’t said anything, she just enjoyed the relaxing sensation, until it stopped, bringing her back to reality, eyes opening to see the elevator doors doing the same.

“home sweet home. i trust you know the way around the house.” max said as soon as he unlocked the door, going straight to his bedroom, with her bags still in hand…?

“what are you- my bags!”

she rushed behind him, trying to stop max from kidnapping her belongings.

“what?” he said with a chuckle, hearing her footsteps behind him on the marble floor. “oh did you really think you’d be spending your days on the couch with your clothes messed up in your little bag?” max turned to face rowan, amusement clear on his face.

he was giving way too much, but he didn’t know it yet. under any other circumstances he’d notice that this was a limit he might consider twice before crossing. rowan sleeping in his bed, taking up space in his closet, no one he’d known for that little had ever had those ‘privileges’. but this was an overthinking free zone, no second thoughts while she was there. that was his own rule in their… whatever that was.

“but the couch is sooo comfortable!”

“stop whining and settle in”

and she did, without bothering to weigh out the pros and cons, the significance behind his words and actions. rowan had to know by now that with max, what he said was what he meant. it was a strange thing to get used to, for sure. it was also liberating, having to focus less on subtext like she was analysing salinger in school all over again. it had been a while since nothing had been complicated, and while it would take a few shakes of her head to keep her from drifting away and creating her own scenarios and meanings, it was a good thing.

a couple hours later found them in the couch she used to call her bed, comfortably sitting next to each other while a scifi movie played on the tv that neither of them paid any real attention to. the coffee table was full of empty take out boxes, to which rowan protested, thinking of max’s diet. her concerns were quickly dismissed by a gesture of his hand and a scoff, followed by him opening the ubereats app on his phone and asking her what she was in the mood for, to which rowan simply said ‘surprise me’.

the buildup to the movie’s climax found them next to each other. rowan had both her feet on the soft grey cushions, both knees bent. one leg was resting against the cushion, while the other, her right one and the one right next to max, was propped up. max on the other hand was not exactly sitting, his body spilled on the couch, taking up much more space than he normally would, still leaving the girl with enough to do the same.

so when his left hand reached and touched her skin, she should’ve seen it coming. her jean shorts were not doing much to cover her up -not that she needed to; he’d seen all of her before- and still left a lot of her legs exposed. it would be a blatant lie if she said she hadn’t thought of using it to get his gears turning, even as an afterthought when she hastily got dressed that morning. rowan had never been one to dress or do anything for male approval, and she wasn’t about to start now. but the past week had her head filled with thoughts of him, and when a small voice in her head told her when she was so unexpectedly woken up by his call, that she might get to see him, the thought of holding even the slightest bit of power over him, provoking as subtly as possible, shot a thrilling sensation up her spine.

that power trip did not end with just a pair of loose jean shorts that were just tight enough around her waist and short enough to not be skimpy, and a simple, black, skin tight tank top. it continued with pretending to ignore how his hand felt on her thigh, how close he was to her core which had never really gone to sleep to be woken up all this time. she kept ignoring him even when he squeezed, and from the side of her eye she caught how his fingers tensed up and his knuckles turned white while she was taking the pain it caused in small surges of pleasure. she even managed to ignore him when his grip loosened and his fingers got busy tracing patterns on the reddened skin. but she couldn’t ignore him enough, a triumphant smile appeared on her lips that max was too quick to catch on.

“are you that happy to have the protagonist die and never see his family again?”

“oh yeah, dude’s a complete asshole.”

“nice try, rowan.” her smile was matched with a smirk from max who had been anything but oblivious to her reactions, eager to get something out of her and finally, he did.

they remained silent and max kept his gentle caress, slowly teasing the girl next to him. rowan had a plan of her own. she’d been made, yes, but he gave himself away: he was watching. and if he was watching, she was going to give him a show. bringing her right index finger against her lips, the tip of her nail found her teeth. if he wasn’t going to look her way again, it would seem like she was just biting her nail. if he paid attention though, he would see how the pad of her finger slid across her bottom lip, how her cheeks hollowed just a bit and maybe even notice her tongue darting against it. if max could tease her with a promise of what could be, so could she.

as her lips pursed against her finger, she stole a side glance to her right, and saw max’s chest puff with a breath he’d hold for a good couple seconds before reminding himself to exhale again and another triumphant smile made its way to her face.

“what are you doing?”

like hell she’d give him a straight answer.

“waiting to see if you’ll ever make good on your promise.”

now there was no mistaking which promise she was referring to, or her desire. all that was left was for max to finally make a move. she could be the one to make the move, gods knew how much she wanted to straddle him, feel him against her while their lips clashed. but she also liked the chase, the tease and seeing him break, perhaps she liked that even more.

“be patient, baby.” he saw right through her and paid her back with the same coin. “we do have a movie to finish, anyway.”

in the meantime, ever so subtly, max kept moving millimetres closer to rowan bit by painful bit, until she could feel his hot breath against her neck and her hair standing in response. slow, calculated fingers brushed her hair from her neck, as he took in her scent and continued to caress lightly all her sensitive spots; the one behind her ear and her collarbone received special attention. he would mutter any comments he had on the movie, lips brushing against her earlobe or her jaw. rowan never bothered to actually listened to a word that came out of his mouth, only how they felt when they hit her skin.

the end credits rolled and neither of them moved. max’s hand was still on rowan’s thigh, fingers tightening on the soft flesh when he felt her relax, just to remind her that this wasn’t over; it hadn’t even begun. he was still whispering nothings her way, talking about the movie or something else that the girl never paid any attention to.

soon, the look in her eyes when she turned to face him turned from playful to wanton. the way she looked at him, impatient but keeping still and true to her own game, almost ready to break her perfectly innocent composure and oh so close to falling apart. until she did.

tired of waiting, rowan let max have the win and with a swift move came on top of him, legs now on either side of his, trapping him in place. she was hesitant, careful of giving away too much too quickly. she already got carried away once, after all. as it turned out, there was no need for her inhibitions; besides, max was the only one who could tear them down so quickly. his hands found her neck and drew her close, finally kissing her again. he sighed at the feel of her lips against his into the kiss and he felt rowan do the same. some sweet, well deserved relief.

his hands quickly travelled down to the familiar road from her neck to her chest, stopping only when his palms were full with her tits, fingers ready to knead the skin, even over her shirt, find, tease and tweak on her nipples. he wasted no time doing just that, getting reacquainted with her soft spots, remembering instinctively what made her tick.

rowan was busying herself with stretching the collar of his shirt, fingers reaching underneath, scratching his skin with a dire urgency, desperate to get him moving hard and fast, like she knew he could. max would indulge her, just not yet. she was making him lose his mind, that had not changed nor faltered from the moment they met. but without any substances also messing with his head, he found he could take his time, mess with her a bit more instead.

he could have more control over himself, take his time, look past the feeling of her nails against his skin, the small sounds when he applied just the right pressure on her breast, and tease her a little more. or so he thought, until his mind raced to how her mouth felt elsewhere, besides his lips, until he remembered how soft the skin on her belly felt beneath his fingers as he travelled down lower, to her equally soft pussy. relinquishing all control of his mind over his body in favour to feeling her now he grabbed her by the waist and turned her over on the couch, getting on top of her.

he fumbled against the button and zipper of her shorts, erratically trying to get them off her. the jean fabric was too thick for his liking at the moment and in perfect sync, rowan did the same to his pants, sharing his feelings in more ways than he realised.

she needed to get him out of those clothes, positive that they were hiding all treasures she could ever want beneath them. quickly, they gave up on trying to get the other rid of their clothes; it was too difficult and time consuming for the state they were in, each focusing on their own. not soon enough, they were in their underwear, lost in each other’s form.

rowan thought that perhaps she’d gotten used to his bare torso, from all the days he spent parading around without bothering to put on a shirt, even for modesty’s sake. she still found herself admiring his collar bones, his broad shoulders and chest, his toned abdomen and when her eyes reached his legs she was gone. the soft skin on bulky thighs that was just begging for her attention, just slightly less than his boxer-covered crotch was enough to leave her frozen in place.

for max, seeing rowan like that, only in a pair of lacy panties, sprawled on his couch, was nothing short of a sight to behold. the afternoon light was not allowing for a single detail to be left to the imagination and he was taking everything in, as if it was the first time. in a way, it was, making everything even more exhilarating.

senses were heightened; taste was not altered by the foul taste of weed and that alone opened up a whole new realm of possibilities to explore that neither of them had the patience to list out but knew were there. smell was dominant, the room already filling up with the scent of sex, while most of all, there was nothing making their limbs numb, the other’s skin underneath their palms felt more real, and there was an urgency that could be finally converted into action.

within a matter of nanoseconds, rowan had gotten up while max was bending forward, meeting her halfway when their bodies collided, arms wrapping tightly around the other, lips clashing in a not so tender kiss. rowan heard herself moan into max’s mouth, a sound of pure relief that didn’t fail to grind his gears, fingers quickly finding her neck and pulling her even closer, not giving her much chance of escaping until he was done, setting the tone for the rest of their afternoon. as long as she kept moaning for him, he’d have more to take and more to give.

with eyes still closed and lips still attached, lost in her, max lead them slowly and carefully -more to not break contact than for the sake of being careful and not tripping on the way- to the bedroom. a familiar enough setting, and there was a thought that switching things up might be preferable, which was quickly dismissed in the name of comfort, spaciousness and some relevant privacy. backtracking to the bedroom, max allowed himself to fall on the mattress and finally broke the kiss.

“sit on my face, baby.” leaving rowan dumbfounded. “did i stutter, love?” he played on her surprise, to which rowan didn’t bother with a verbal response.

‘ask and you shall receive’ was the only thought through her mind as she took off her underwear and positioned herself above his head, slowly lowering her core until she felt the contact, making her legs shake just a little but managed to come to a halt in her descent.

his hands quickly and expertly wrapped around her thighs, immediately applying his strength to bring her even further down, until he could feel her thighs mushing his face. once he was content with the positioning, he got to work. only this time, it wasn’t going to be slow or an exposition of his technique.

this time around, it was about needing his face covered with her juices until it was the only thing he’d be able to smell and taste for a week. it was about devouring the sensitive flesh, taking in as much of her as he could. a selfish endeavour that included hard sucking of her folds, teeth scraping those very same, tender spots and tongue working to quench this newfound and unique thirst.

it almost wasn’t about rowan’s pleasure at all. but she didn’t care, it didn’t matter. all that mattered is that it felt too damn good. not only how it felt like eating her pussy was keeping him alive, but how his hands didn’t allow her to move, highlighting that this was not about her; it would not be over until he was satiated, whether that meant she came five times or none at all. and for some reason, that exact feeling was what was driving rowan to the brink of madness only when combined with how his tongue brushed her clit and lapped against it. he was a rabid dog and she was heading to the same direction.

no matter how good it felt, it wasn’t enough. her hands reached for her nipples, trying to bring in some extra stimulation. it worked, as her fingers found max’s rhythm and got in sync, but yet again, it just wasn’t enough. wave after wave of pleasure, something was missing; she was empty. she needed him inside her mouth, her cunt, somewhere.

“max… please…” darkened blue eyes shot open and glared at her, with no stop in his motions. “let me… let me turn around.” words came out between sharp breaths and moans, vowels mixing together. when max didn’t comply with her request, she knew she needed to try harder. “please… i need to feel… you… please.” he didn’t understand, and he wasn’t done, but those pleas made his knees weak. with the first chance he got, he raised his hands from her thighs to her hips, lifting her up and prompting her to turn around, helping as much as he could while never letting her forget that she was not the one in charge.

as soon as her knees touched the mattress again, max’s mouth was again working on her pussy, almost distracting her from her mission. the empty feeling returned soon though, reminding her that she needed to get to work if she wanted to be able to get the most out of her body and what he was doing, how he was making her feel. bending down, her mouth found his cock almost by instinct and she wrapped her lips around it as tightly as she could, as if it held her life inside, determined to get it back inside her.

she couldn’t know if she forgot to swallow or she was just salivating that much at the feeling, the taste of the sensitive skin on her tongue. regardless, rowan was soon testing the limits of her gag reflex time and time again, pushing his cock further down her throat even just a little with each bob of her head. it was all becoming too much, the sensations on her pussy, his feeling in her mouth, her need and striving for more with each passing second, it was making her dizzy. that and the fact that she was too preoccupied to remind herself to come up for air more frequently, letting her body reach its limit at choking on max’s dick.

rowan was still trying to grind herself against his face, get more friction, find a way to let him know that she needed something inside her to accompany his tongue even for just a few seconds, it would be enough to finally get her over the edge. all her efforts were in vain though, and they would continue to be, even as his load hit the back of her throat, hips bucking to get himself further inside her and rowan gagged but tried her best to keep in place and suck even harder.

with max not nearly satiated but with a bit more clear head and rowan still out of her mind, he guided her gently off him and turned her around to bring her up. he needed her to taste herself on his tongue, know exactly what it was that made her feel like that. and tasting himself on hers didn’t hurt as a small, triumphant smile shone through their kiss.

rowan was still lucid enough to assert herself, although her body worked on autopilot. max’s hands travelled to her back and sides, grabbing firmly and hungrily at anything he could find. not letting that stop her, the girl was quick to straddle him. her legs locked tightly around his hips, and with very little effort she finally felt him almost slip inside her, filling her up in an instant. the shock of the sensation, of the newfound kind of pleasure mixed with the slightest bit of pain of stretching around him made her stop in her tracks, movements frozen in time as her eyes shot wide open and turned to the ceiling.

max on the other hand was more quick to adjust, ready to feel more and his hands locked on her hipbones as his pelvis moved, creating much needed friction. this helped rowan adjust, realise what was going on and for a few minutes, she allowed herself to enjoy it. she was coming back to her senses, in a way, as if her brain was finally allowed to work again to let everything sink in. alas, that didn’t last. turns out, max was not a fan of repetition and was quick to change the rhythm and pace, almost violently moving his body against hers, as the sound of skin against skin was almost drowned out by her cries and his grunts. it felt as if with each thrust he was reaching even deeper into her and rowan could only think of one word: how. but she wasn’t going to complain. even if she wanted to, words would fail her.

when he slowed down, presumably to take a breath, rowan took matters into her own hands, still not satiated. she balanced herself on her hands which she placed on his chest, and let her body take over once more. there was no telling if there was any rhythm in the frantic movements of her hips, her only indicator being her own pleasure. her eyes had been closed, too focused on the sensation of his hard cock inside her to ruin it with any other sense. touch was the only one that mattered. how his skin felt beneath her fingertips, how his fingers were bound to leave bruises on her hips, how she could never explain the ecstasy inside her, but she knew it was still touch.

despite feeling her thighs burning, rowan was unyielding; still moving against him, riding the man beneath her as if her life depended on it, her muscles were starting to give up. in trying to find a more comfortable position, she removed her hands from his chest and replaced them with her entire torso, almost falling on him, all while trying not to miss a single beat. max caught her in the very last moment, just before her head was millimetres away from collapsing on his neck, by grabbing her by the hair, pulling her up.

rowan’s mouth hung agape, hair unruly and all over her face, eyes barely open and darker than he’d ever saw them and max had never wanted to fuck the everloving shit out of somebody else as much. the same hand that was holding her up by the hair twisted the fingers around the strands and rowan winced in pain, which max was quick to wash down with a kiss, bringing her face close enough to clash their lips together. all while rowan was practically shaking against him. he almost took pity on her. almost.

“is my baby close?” the fist coherent sounds in a long time, rowan took a while to process but was quick to respond with a shake of her head and another loud moan. if only he knew how much closer calling her that brought her.

his free hand gently touched her back, signalling that she could relax, take a break, he could take over. and he did take over, as his fistful of hair raised her body just enough so he could slide his hand from her back between them and reach her cunt. fingers teased, taking a few seconds to find her clit. and once he was sure he had it, he could keep it up, max resumed his thrusts. hard and fast, not caring about going deep this time around; he just followed his body and kept doing what felt right. and apparently what felt right for him also felt right for her. he could feel her tightening around him -as if that were possible- and her breaths became quick and shallow. now it was only a matter of a few seconds and keep doing exactly what he’d been doing.

the pieces of his plan came together as rowan came apart, writhing on his cock, as her body contorted and her mouth was busying itself with words he couldn’t comprehend in the midst of his own haze. she felt so fucking good, she looked so fucking good and all that was his. only his. all this was because of and for him. he’d made her feel like this, he’d made her look like that.

it seemed like rowan was slowly coming down from her high, regaining her composure. but max wasn’t about to have that, not when he was so close himself. he removed his hand from her pussy and reached for her tit instead, feeling how perfectly it filled up his palm while her nipple had been begging for attention even after everything. and who was he to deny her? fingers got busy fondling the soft skin of her breast, while tweaking the nipple, and rowan sucked in her breath and almost protested.

she’d had enough. all that teasing and edging only to lead to her feeling filled to the brim as his cock caressed the perfect spots with every thrust and his fingers just knew how to move against her clit had her seeing stars. and yes, it was enough. but her hips were still bucking against his, and her pussy was still dripping, a direct manifestation of how she just needed more. and more he gave her. sure, she was sensitive. but for the first time in her life, that didn’t mean stop; it meant that a second orgasm was closer than ever.

and as max reached even closer his own climax, he traded any finesse for even harder thrusts, inevitably getting deeper. and as that happened, rowan felt like she was a backseat driver in her own body, which had grown limp. hoarse sounds escaped her scratched throat and as max’s cock twitched inside her, and that was the final straw. not only feeling it along with the pain from her hair still in his grip and her sensitive nipple being borderline abused, but knowing that he was coming inside her, that she’d made that happen all on her own, brought rowan past the edge again.

max may or may not have been totally oblivious to rowan’s second orgasm, being too focused on the unique sensation that it was to come inside her when she was like that. had he the mind, perhaps he would have realised that what made this time so special was the girl’s own climax. but in the end, it made little to no difference for either of them. they both got what they wanted; everything that had been promised and more.

they shared another breathless yet soft kiss, before he helped her off him, and she did need the help. her legs were almost too sore to close, something she’d definitely feel the next morning among other things that she couldn’t even begin to list.

“so that was… something.” max broke the silence and rowan laughed.

“yeah, you can call it that.” she tried to roll over and get up, take a shower, get dressed, her usual routine, but her legs weren’t cooperating.

“stay here.” it was something between a command and a plea, as he extended his arm, making room her her to lie on his chest. rowan complied, but she was still running her mouth, the adrenaline still had not quite worn off.

“is that what we’re doing now?”

“it’s what we’ve done before.” except you went and left like a thief, max wanted to add but bit his tongue. there was no reason for this, not now.

the sun was beginning to set and when he woke up, the moon was gently shining through his window, providing little light. but he didn’t need to see to feel her weight against him, her soft breath on his skin. he wrapped one arm around her waist, bringing her even closer and closed his eyes again with a dreamy hope that when he opened them again, she’d still be there.

----------------------------------------

if you've made it this far, thank you. i understand that this took three months to be delivered and i do have excuses, but you probably don't care for them. it still took three months less to be completed than part one, so i'll give me that much heh!

so if this has an abrupt ending, i'm sorry. but there are too many things going on at the moment to have the anxiety of another wip in my mind. maybe someday i'll get back to patching any holes. perhaps it will be "and they were rommates!!! the dlc" or some shit.

rowan has a backstory (in contrast to any other female main characters i've ever written for smut fics) that would be fun to explore someday, because i do like her. and i'm sure you'd like her too.

as always, your feedback is welcome and appreciated! i love you all for sticking with this story, taking the time to read it!

take care, have fun and BE SAFE THOSE FUCKERS HAVE NEVER HEARD OF A CONDOM JFC

taglist (sorry if i forgot someone!!):

@whathesaids @sriusun @punkladymoes @atlanticowe @shyartisanvoidwagon

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut #max verstappen imagine #formula 1 smut #f1 #theo rambles #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #original named female character

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miss-celestia13 · 7 months

Text

For Your Entertainment

Jake x MC Smut One Shot

Words: 5.7k

Halloween. The gang head to the Aurora for Phil’s Halloween party. While their friends get wasted and dance up a storm, Jake and Manon battle for dominance. You never truly lose when orgasms are handed out like party favours 🤭

Before I hunker down to panic write smut for a challenge, I thought I’d do some for these two nymphos! As usual, this can be read without knowing the main story these two are from. It’s just smut; anyone can read it and not get lost. It's another dual POV; the names are bolded when it changes!

~*~

Jake refused to believe Manon was wearing what his eyes were telling him she was wearing. She walked into the club like she owned the place. Black lycra hugged her curves like a second skin as she sauntered into the Aurora with Jessy and Lilly flanking her. Jessy wore cat whiskers, ears, and a tail. Lilly was Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, but he hadn’t a clue what Manon was supposed to be other than a pain in his ass or a fresh attempt to give him blue balls. Thigh-high patent leather boots with heels so sharp and tall she could use them as a weapon covered Manon’s toned legs, and a thick leather choker like a collar decorated her throat, drawing his eye and sparking memories of his hands in its place. He knew that was her intention, but it didn’t dull the effect it had on him. He stood stock still, hand gripping his glass too tightly, gaze locked on the wicked woman currently making Jessy toss her head back and laugh.

They didn’t celebrate Halloween the year before; all felt it was too soon after their shared ordeal. It felt like tempting fate to don disguises and party mere weeks after people died. As if she sensed his attention, Manon’s venom eyes latched onto his, and he shook his head once, just barely. No one else noticed, but Manon saw everything when it came to him and never forgot it. She knew everything he said and didn’t say, all that he did and wished he could do before it left his lips. Able to read his mind, he often worried, and she would giggle, wink, and refuse to answer the question whenever he asked if she could. She didn’t say a word, only blew him a kiss before putting her back to him, and he tossed the contents of his glass down his throat. If she was on one of her taunting missions, he’d need more than whisky to get through this night.

A rough hand clapped him on the shoulder. He slid his masked eyes to Dan and smiled lightly, nodding hello as the other man ordered them new drinks. He leaned closer, focusing on the trio of women as they joined Hannah, Thomas, Cleo, and Richy at a table in the corner. Cleo hadn’t bothered with a costume, so he wasn’t the only one without an elaborate getup.

“You’ve got your work cut out for you with that one,” Dan joked, dressed as Batman, and his eyes twinkled as he pushed a glass full of amber liquid to Jake.

Jake gave a wry chuckle, grinning as he said, “Don’t I know it...”

“What’s she supposed to be? A dominatrix?”

“I have no idea. She lives to fuck with me and get under my skin. I just go with it now.” Jake laughed, knowing damn well he delighted in her games and schemes to drive him mad.

Dan looked him up and down, brows furrowing, and Jake knew what he’d asked before it left his bristled mouth.

“And you? I’m drawing a blank.”

Jake wore a black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black dress pants, and shoes completed the look. The black satin mask around his eyes kept slipping. It was annoying, but he had no choice in his outfit that night.

“Manon left it out... As I said, I just go with it. It’s easier and usually works out well for me.”

Dan snorted, nearly choking on his drink as Jake sipped at his and relished the slow burn as he swallowed it.

Manon kept one eye on the bar and the other on her friends. Jake and Dan laughed together, it made her heart happy to see Jake enjoying himself. Something about the mask she’d picked for him really did it for her, and she planned to convince him to keep it on when they got home, and he took out his frustration with her scandalous outfit on her willing body. Her dress was so short that she couldn’t bend down and had to be very careful how she sat, or she’d give everyone a show. It was worth it for the dark look in Jake’s lapis eyes when he spied her. There was no scary element to her costume. She’d had more than enough of myths and legends coming to life and had chosen to provoke the life out of her man instead. She was already three tequilas and a fruity cocktail down, and her buzz warmed her through as Jessy brought another round to the table. It was easy to ignore the curious eyes of the other patrons enjoying Phil’s Halloween party as they whispered about her and her friends.

Hannah, who came in a matching Barbie and Ken costume with Thomas, seemed more aware of it than everyone else, and Manon took to giving those nameless folk dagger-filled stares each time their gaze landed on Hannah. They were a novelty whenever they ventured into Duskwood and Manon had two fists full of middle fingers for every judgmental encounter with a stranger in the quaint, twisted little town. Alcohol flowed too freely, voices rising in pitch and volume as the music played louder and the lights went off. A few souls immediately ran to dance, and Manon didn’t object when Jessy grabbed her hand and hauled her up, tottering on her high heels as she followed the excitable redhead. The alcohol made them stumble as they danced, the music a physical thing it was so heavy, a pulse on loudspeaker that matched the pounding of her blood as it roared through her.

The others soon joined them along with people they didn’t know, and Manon chuckled as Richy tripped over his feet, trying to keep up with Jessy. Jake observed from the bar, catching her eye every time she looked over at him and it was like a lightning strike when their eyes met. She and Dan engaged in a terrible imitation of a line dance as Cleo and Lilly spun circles around them. Giggling and shrieking, Hannah shook her head at the two women and Jessy hissed at her, causing Lilly to cackle. Despite the chaos around her, her attention snagged on a scantily clad woman sidling up to Jake at the bar. Wearing the guise of a sexy nurse, the raven-haired woman reached out and slid her hand down Jake’s arm as Manon arched a brow. Jake had his back to her, whirling the instant she touched him, and his smile faltered as he greeted the woman and discreetly stepped back. Not deterred, the other woman flicked her hair over her shoulder and encroached on his space again. Manon saw red but waited. Jake could handle himself, but her hands curled as the brunette wouldn’t take the hint, and something predatory inside her opened an eye at the ownership in the woman’s touch as she patted his arm again.

“Calm down, Nonbon,” Dan said in her ear, and she prided herself on not jumping as she turned to him. He went on, “Hackerman has it handled.”

Turning back to the bar, Jake was indeed pushing the woman’s hands away as she went in for another tease. Manon bit down on the inside of her cheek, catching Phil coming up from the basement with a crate in hand, and an enticing idea popped into her mind as the woman attempting to flirt with Jake walked away with a scowl on her pretty face. Manon crowed internally as Jake’s gaze zoned in on hers, and he lifted his glass to her. She licked her lips, held eye contact for a beat too long, and tilted her head toward the entrance to the basement. Not waiting for his response, she strode for it, heartbeat rising with every step down to the basement door. She had no doubt he’d follow her.

A pull like an invisible thread tethered them to each other, going loose as she lost sight of him then taut as he neared. Her blood raced, veins lighting up as desire clouded her mind. Her breathing quickened, her burgundy painted lips tingled as her mind skipped ahead and she wouldn’t allow him to stop her this time, would take him for all he had to remind him he was hers. Reaching the bottom, the echo of Jake’s footsteps as he descended matched the flickering pulse in her throat, and her mouth watered as she shouldered the heavy door open and slipped inside. She quickly pulled her underwear down and clenched it in hand, standing with her back to the wall beside the door as Jake stopped outside and drew in a deep breath. Lust and discontent at the woman’s audacity were a potent blend, heating her skin and making her reckless as the door slowly inched open.

Jake entered the dim basement, holding his breath. He sensed her before she grabbed his shirt and shoved him against the door hard enough it shook in its frame. Red light gilded her sharp features as she wasted no time and kissed him with enough aggression he knew she’d seen every skin-crawling moment of the stranger’s advances. The thought brought forth a smirk, demanding and forceful; she breached his mouth and kissed the liquor right off his smiling lips. His trousers were too tight, cock rapidly hardening as she rubbed against him and chased his tongue with hers, his fingers playing with the hem of her dress. The hinges rattled as she shoved a knee between his legs, mouth bruising his as his cock gave a painful twitch, harder than he’d ever been as she ground down on his thigh. He took hold of her hips and attempted to back her up to a table he saw before she was on him, but she firmly pushed his shoulders again, and he rocked into the door as her hand slid down the front of his pants, stroking over him and sending what remained of his blood straight to his cock.

Her scent was sugar, and spice, heaven and hell all wrapped up in one heady fragrance and he wanted to thank that woman for making her respond so boldly. A woman on a mission, she didn’t let him breathe or touch her, whatever had gotten into her, this was about him and he wasn’t about to tell her to stop. He tried again, gripping her hips and bending at the knee to lift her, but she broke away, maroon lips puffed by his as she lay a possessive hand over his pounding heart.

“You’re with me, or did you forget that?” She murmured, voice husky as her sea-glass eyes burned hot enough to scald him.

His knees weakened at her sudden show of dominance, head shaking as sense fled and animalistic lust took its place. His cock took all his brains when it took his blood. There was nothing but white noise in his head and he couldn’t hear the music upstairs anymore.

“You’re impossible to forget.” He said reverently, cupping her face to capture her lips in another kiss, but she didn’t allow it. Shaking out of his hold, her mouth was on his neck, leaving a trail of small nipping bites, marking him, claiming him for all the world to see. Something was shoved into his pocket but he soon forgot all about it.

Feverish fingers flicked the button of his pants open, and the zipper was pulled down. She pushed the trousers down over his ass before her hand dove inside his boxers and wrapped around his cock, stroking firmly then gently. Just another way for her to drive him insane and prod at his restraint. He was seconds away from bending her over and fucking her hard, but she gave him a slow blink and dropped to her knees, mouth opening as she stared up at him through her lashes. His mind eddied out, heart bouncing off his ribs as she took him into her hot mouth, cheeks hollowing as he hit the back of her throat and cursed. His head thudded back against the door as he let out a moan; she stroked the base of his cock as she sucked, mouth and hand moving in tandem to work him to the edge as fast as she could.

Tongue swirling, toe-curling suction, long, deep drags of her sanguine lips along his rigid length, and teasingly gentle teeth making him tremble and sink his hands into her silver hair, torn between pulling her off to feel her tight cunt around his cock and fucking her face. She didn’t make it easy to choose, and he was curious to see how far she’d take it before her own desire ate away at her control. He panted, frantic as her hands moved to grip his ass, fingers digging in as she encouraged him to rock his hips into her face, mouth tightening as she took it and didn’t choke like he feared. Her eyes watered as she held his gaze and hollowed her cheeks again. The crown of his cock hit the back of her throat, and an odd wolfish noise came free of his chest as she relaxed to take more of him. She was going to kill him or leave him unable to function. Either way, he was fucked.

Release already shimmered and pooled low in his spine; everything she was doing worked too well, and when she swallowed around his cock, his eyes crossed, and he reflexively tugged her hair, earning a muffled moan from her. He wanted to finish inside her, see her splinter and fall apart before he did, but she wouldn’t allow it. He was merely an observer as she somehow took him even deeper, lips nearly as tight as her cunt, throat constricting and relaxing around him, nostrils flaring as she struggled to breathe, and it made a monster out of him. His head swam and short-circuited as she slowly began to bob over him, swallowing him down, a hand cupping and playing with his stones as he sobbed and shook helplessly.

His vision narrowed, the world blurring as it whited out and black speckled the edges, gripping her head and rocking into her mouth so she took him impossibly deeper. Her defiant moan as he tried to push her away didn’t help matters, the sound so filthy and satisfying he wanted to record it as his cock jumped in her clever mouth and release swamped his system. She wouldn’t have it and tightened her lips so much he couldn’t have moved if he wanted to. It rolled down his spine in rippling waves of flame, igniting every nerve as his body bowed over her, knees turning to water as he came violently down her throat. She took it all. Drank him down, draining him to the dregs as he groaned and growled her name. All of him felt as if someone had flain his skin and he was too exposed, so sensitive he could hardly stand the soft sweep of her tongue as she cleaned his cock of every drop before she finally released him and rose to her feet.

Her pink tongue snaked out, licking at a stray drop of cum at the corner of her mouth, her lips curled into a satisfied smirk as she eyed his quaking form with eyes darker than a midnight sky. The hold she had on his heart and soul never wavered. He leaned weakly against the door, sure his legs would fail him if he moved away. His chest heaved, and sweat trickled down his neck as she finally spoke.

“The next time some woman puts her hands on you, Jake, remember this,” She purred and pushed him away from the door, leaving him staring at nothing as her clacking steps ascended the stairs.

It took him longer than he’d ever admit to wrangle with his numb limbs and wait for his breathing to slow. There was no hope of calming himself down. He quickly tucked himself away, righting his trousers and smoothing shaky hands down his crumpled shirt. His mind still raced, spinning with all she’d done to him, and he did his best to act normal as he left the safety of the basement. A smoky chuckle slipped free as he followed her back to the bar and felt in his pocket to find she’d stuffed her underwear in it. She was an evil little thing. He stopped at the bar to order a double shot of something that burnt his throat as he threw it back and shuddered. Leaning heavily on the bar, Jake jumped as Jessy appeared at his elbow and demanded Phil make her something pretty. She looked him over, brows rising and head shaking. It was an expression that Jessy often wore when she was around him and Manon.

“You look like you lost a war with something that likes to bite,” The redhead said, cocking her head at his wrinkled clothes and kiss swollen mouth.

Jake chased his last shot with a vodka cola and laughed, “I lost a battle. The war hasn’t started yet,” He returned, eyes seeking Manon and catching her whispering to Richy as the man smiled and gestured toward Jessy.

“I don’t think I want to know anything more, okay, Jake. You two have no shame. You’d make a fortune online. Let’s leave it at that!” She jested and thanked Phil when he handed her a bright pink drink with too many tiny umbrellas, a squiggly straw, and a sparkler. She was gone before Jake could summon a response.

He watched her sit beside Richy and Manon, the latter smirking over at him as he noted the flush on her chest and the stiff way she held herself. He knew she would be soaked, utterly fired up, and primed to be fucked until she knew only his name. It wouldn’t take much, her emerald eyes smoldered and she couldn’t sit still, he could probably make her come just by talking to her. Still, he knew she would avoid him the rest of the night and drag out the anticipation until she couldn’t stand it. Beautiful but savage, she would string it out until she begged him to take over. But he couldn’t wait that long. She had a lesson to learn, and he would rejoice in teaching it as he sank his last drink and swiped the keys to Phil’s office from behind the bar when the man’s back was turned.

Manon was well aware she was playing a dangerous, risky game. But it was worth every second of nerve-straining anticipation as he prowled toward their table, a little ungraceful in his stride as he gave their friends a look that made them all clear off to the dancefloor. The power of bringing a man nearly twice her size to his knees with nothing but her mouth lay over her like a glowing shield as she watched his face harden. Manon grinned, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs to dull the burn between them as he braced his hands on the table and leaned until he loomed over her, masked eyes blown black with lust as they pinned her in place.

“Phil’s office. Five minutes.” He growled, and then he was gone while she blinked after his broad shoulders and bit back a whimper at the unyielding order.

He was a man of few words, but he knew how to wield every last one to fuck with her and make her a needy, whiny mess. She fucking loved it. Five minutes passed at a glacial speed. Every passing second was marked by her furious heartbeat and tapping fingers on the sticky tabletop. She staggered away from the table, glancing at her friends and Phil to ensure no one was paying attention as she escaped to meet Jake and pay the toll she owed for sucking the soul out of his body. His taste still lingered on her tongue, earthy and salty, and a tang of something she always associated with him. She’d been dying to know how he’d taste since they met. Jake always stopped her before he came, preferring to get on his knees for her, but his surprise worked to her advantage, and she finally made her selfish wish come true. The other woman was just the excuse she needed to make it happen, and she wanted him riled up and had hoped he would attack her the moment they were alone. She hadn’t anticipated this outcome, and her filthy mind and slick cunt couldn’t wait.

Phil’s office was up a short set of stairs. The music thumped through the floor as she neared the door, blood roaring in her ears and cheeks heating as she knocked before letting herself in. The thud of her heels on the carpet seemed over loud as she crossed the threshold, but her focus went to the man who held her black heart in golden hands. Jake, seated behind Phil’s desk, arms folded, muscles straining, and ankle crossing his knee, his heated gaze moved over her body like a caress. She locked the door behind her and moved to stand before him. Laughter and joyful cries seeped into the room from below, but she only had ears for him.

“What game are you playing, Manon?” He husked, those singular eyes blazing and filling with smoke as she gave an indolent shrug.

“One I believe I’m winning.” She said to make his mouth flatten, one glorious brow arching as she shifted on her feet.

“You sure about that? I don’t have to touch you to know how wet you are right now.”

Fuck, her thighs were slippery as she clamped them together and replied, “Hmm... What are you going to do about it, Jake?”

He crooked a finger and said two clipped words she followed like a lost puppy, “Come here.”

Rounding the desk, he dropped his foot and widened his legs so she could stand between them. The chair had no arms, he studied her and swiped his thumb along his bottom lip. His other hand patted his knee as he gave another order.

“Show me.”

Catching on, she lifted her leg, balancing her booted foot on his knee and letting her skirt roll up to expose herself to his searching gaze. Hunger, endless and roasting, glazed his eyes as he saw the state she was in after her show in the basement. It always affected her to make him feel as unhinged as he made her feel on a daily basis.

Jake breathed her in and groaned, eyes tracking the droplet of essence trickling down her inner thigh. She wobbled as he reached under her dress, taunting her folds with a fingertip as he cursed and his eyes darkened to navy.

“You should have let me take care of that earlier,” He crooned, filling her empty cunt with two long fingers, and she nearly fell on her ass in shock, but his free arm snaked out and grabbed hold of her.

He gave her two twists of his fingers before pulling free of her and silently urged her to drop her foot to the floor. She held herself very still as he took his time looking her over and committing her to memory. His mind worked away behind his eyes, and she knew he was calculating how much time they had before someone came looking and what would send her over the edge fastest. Her dirty mind supplied many scenarios, each one filthier than the last but she held her tongue. She knew he’d made his mind up when his mouth quirked into a sinful smirk.

“Kiss me,” he demanded, and something inside her perked up at the authority in his tone.

Taking her time, testing his patience to the limit, she moved to stand behind him, sliding her hands under his chin to jerk his head back and kiss him upside down. Inelegant and messy, it was worth the surprise in his eyes before hers shut, and she let him lead the way. His beard scratched her skin, adding to the sensation coursing through her as the sound of a zipper broke through the bass beat thumping through the floor. She didn’t have to look to know he was palming his cock, she had seen the sight so many times she could conjure it instantly, but it didn’t stop the wanton moan from escaping as her imagination sparked vivid and beautiful. Her empty cunt clenched around nothing at the alluring mental image, more wetness stickied her thighs, and her battle for control fell apart with the stroke of his tongue in her mouth.

Sensing he’d won, she bit his smiling lips and whined, a hand falling between her legs to toy with her clit as he wouldn’t do it for her. He hissed, breaking away as she shivered and circled that bundle of nerves to take the edge off. He batted her hand away, ignoring her cry of irritation.

“That’s it, come here,” his voice went lethally low, “Straddle me. Take it all at once.”

Swallowing hard, Manon knew he was fighting dirty, had secretly known taking the reins from him would lead to this, and only just managed to smother her pleased smile as she came around the side of him. Swinging her leg over his thighs, she peeled her skintight dress up to her hips, and her hands collared his neck, mimicking the choker around hers as he swallowed thickly. She hovered over him, hips quivering as he ran the fat head of his cock through her drenched folds and lined up with her entrance. Doing as told, she took him to the hilt in one sinuous stretching slide, body going rigid as her resisting muscles burned, and she felt him knocked too deep to breathe through the sensation like a charge under her skin. His hands held her down as her cunt pulsed around him, forcing herself to loosen to accommodate him and gritting her teeth as he held eye contact through her struggle.

“Move.” He commanded once she softened enough to roll her hips and whimper her impatience.

Jake knew she expected him to take charge, and he would, but first, it was time she learned her lesson, and he was nothing if not a studious teacher. Her cunt clasped him so tightly he couldn’t form thoughts, a perfect fit that always had him half way to release the moment he was inside, but he let none of it show as she moved over him. Slowly at first, lifting in a slow drag and dropping down with a slight wriggle, her vicious eyes flamed as they held his in thrall. He shoved the selfish part of him aside as she bounced and picked up her pace, her mouth falling open as she whined. Her boots caught his eye as her hands flexed around his throat and sent a bolt of fire straight to his cock, like a strippers and high enough that a fall would break something, but he’d be damned if they didn’t turn his blood molten as she pushed up in a taut slippery slide. His nails dug into her hips as he took control, slamming her back down hard enough her teeth rattled, and she yelped in a delicious blend of shock, pain, and pleasure.

He helped her ride him, glorying in the silken glide of her inner walls around his rock-hard cock, and every little spasm they made felt like heaven. Capturing her mouth, he poured all the love and desire he felt for her into the kiss and knew she understood by how her fingers dove through his hair and pulled. Her familiar spiced scent heightened the desire coursing through his bones. Their bodies had always spoken to each other in a silent language, a complex tongue neither could speak on their own, pushing and pulling, electricity zipping between them as they moved. She was soaking wet, utterly saturated, as he lifted her off him, turned her around, and bent her over the desk.

“Hold on, Sweetheart,” Was all the warning he gave her before he sank inside her taut heat, and she scrabbled to find purchase on the desk. Fucking her on Phil’s desk had been his primary motivation for bringing her here. He still remembered those days when Phil asked Manon out or flirted with her in front of him. Payback made it all the sweeter, and he slowed his pace to breathe through the urge to come as Manon keened and griped at him to fuck her. Her boldness and eagerness to share her body with him never lost its potency. He couldn’t put a value high enough on the trust she so readily handed him and never pushed it farther than he knew she could take. An undercurrent of respect and great affection ran between them through all aspects of their lives, but never so tangible as during these encounters. She was hell in a hand basket, a whirlwind of fire and fight, and it was fucking fantastic.

Her grip on the desk slipped and slid as he pounded into her, deliberately tensing her inner walls to drag a ragged moan out of his throat, and he rewarded her with a sharp tap on the ass, smoothing his hand over the hurt so she rolled back to meet his thrust. It didn’t matter what life threw at them. They always had this. He spread her legs wider, wanting to see it as he split her pretty cunt in two, and she glistened like diamonds as she made no effort to hide herself, shameless for him. Her cries turned desperate as his thrusts turned shallow and slow, dragging it out and relishing in how much she needed him. His ego preened as her hands curled around the edge of the desk, knuckles bleaching white as he snapped his hips viciously and chuckled darkly as she pleaded with him to do it again.

Manon resolved to deep-throat him more often if this was the result. Even when she lost, she never really felt like she had. No, every drag of his cock inside her dripping cunt felt like a win. It was building so fast, fire spiraling down her torso to settle low in her belly, and every brutal plunge of his cock only stoked the flames of her ardor. A tremor ricocheted through her and a high-pitched keening tore from her throat as he slammed into her and gave a grunt so rough her skin prickled with gooseflesh. Her inner walls fluttered, tensing herself to hold him captive as she drowned in sensation. He pushed down on her lower back, deepening her arch until her chest was flat to the table, and the angle changed, steeper now, hitting that spot within her that made her cries turn crazed.

Every thrust hit more intensely than the last, wetness flooding from her as she clung to her sanity and vocally urged him on. He made her feel free, unleashed, and uninhibited in a way she never had before. Her usual need for total control dissolved when they were alone, and it made him all the more addictive, she was always chasing the high he could give her. It was all she could do to hold on as he fucked her, his grinding cock, the press of his fingers as they moved to toy with her clit, and his other hand bruised her hip. It didn’t take long for release to spark its warning. His growl when he felt it added gasoline to the fire, devouring her from the inside.

“You’re mine, and I’m yours. Don’t forget that.” He rasped, each word punctuated by another savage snap of his hips.

A whine of pure distress left her then, cunt tensing and relaxing as he fucked her to the edge. The desk groaned under her hands as she clutched it to keep from melting to the floor. Jake’s low laugh as she shook her head didn’t help her calm down. Too much to take for long, she sobbed in relief as her orgasm broke violent and all-consuming, shouts from below drowned out her breathless wail. Her cunt possessively gripped his cock, his ragged moan music to her ears as she flailed under him. Chemistry or biology, she didn’t care what it was between them as long as he kept fucking her like he hated her. She couldn’t breathe, so overwhelmed and unable to form sentences, she babbled as sumptuous heat licked through her. Her entire body quivered and went boneless, every ripple of release dulling the sharp edges of her mind as he pounded her harder to join her in bliss.

It dragged her orgasm out until it was torture to withstand, and when he cried her name, a warning and win, burying himself so deep it forced a scream past her teeth. The filthy feel of him cumming inside her, her shimmering orgasm, and his hands gripping her hips in a fierce hold, made it the best Halloween she’d ever had. Her noise of contentment blended with his whispered praise and words of worship as he slipped free of her still-flickering cunt and turned her around. His lips were on hers, his tongue licking at hers, bristling and biting as he nipped at her bottom lip and possessed her mouth so completely she couldn’t tell where she ended, and he began. Gasping for breath and unsteady on her feet, their kiss turned rough and ravenous, his low groans making her blood sing as he made sure she knew he loved her.

His care for her was the most compelling thing about him. He could fuck her like she was his worst enemy, ordering her around and taunting her until she begged, make her hurt, but he always made sure she felt safe and loved after. She melted into him, smiling into the kiss as he blindly tugged her dress over her ass and grabbed handfuls of it once she was covered. He slowed it down, taking his time to undo her and make her heart grow wings with every tender brush of his tongue. His hands ran up and down her spine, massaging gently as she sighed happily. They kissed until she was sure he could go again, but they had pushed their luck enough, and she could wait until they got home.

They righted the room and themselves as best they could, but her overbright eyes and the sheen of sweat on her skin would give her away. Secret smiles were shared as they checked the office for anything that would point to them. Leaving together, Jake locked the door, and they descended the stairs, the music was a solid wall of sound as he went to the bar, and she went to the bathroom to clean up. When she returned to him, perched on a stool, Jake had a drink waiting for her, a sly smirk on his bearded mouth, and she didn’t hesitate to jump in his lap as they watched their friends enjoy themselves. Phil kept catching her eye, but she avoided him, wanting to giggle childishly at the thought of admitting what they’d done upstairs.

Leaning her head on his shoulder as he stroked her hip with his thumb, she said, “I love you. I’ll win next time, though.”

Jake’s laugh made her grin as he held her tighter and lowered his head to her ear.

“We’ll see, Sweetheart. We’ll see. Love you, too.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Thank you for reading ❤️ I hope you enjoyed it 🥰 this will most likely be the last one shot for a while. I have my sequel to publish, a smutty challenge and a battle to win! Busy. But I’ll be back at some point. Thank you, have a lovely evening ❤️

If you enjoyed this, I have many more smutty JakexMC one shots on my Masterlist 🥰

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coffee-obsessed-writer · 2 years

Text

Maybe Someday

Daryl Dixon x Reader

A/N: It's been a while since I wrote for Daryl, but thanks to my bestie @kazosa an idea came to life, so here we are. Wasn't sure who to tag, so just tagged those who I know used to read my TWD fics.

Summary: With the fighting done, and the Commonwealth holding steady under the leadership of his group, Daryl still finds himself feeling restless. An old friend, from before the fall, plagues his mind and he thinks maybe it's time to finally find out if she survived.

WC: 6.5K

Warnings: Language.

Tags: @kazosa @wings-of-a-raven @twdsunshine @valeriiecameron @jodiereedus22 @rhyatt-deauxtreve

The roar of his bike down the graveyard highway wasn’t loud enough to drown out his thoughts. Daryl thought once he hit that open stretch, with no car coffins of the dead, he may be able to hit the throttle hard enough to escape the notion he was doing the wrong thing. It felt wrong in his gut to leave everyone behind, especially with all that happened as the Commonwealth fell under new leadership. His friends could use his help, and the kids—Judith and RJ—already lost one father, they didn’t need to lose him, too. He had done everything he could to keep them all safe for so long. He needed to be there for them now. He also knew that if he didn’t take care of himself, he wouldn’t be at his best for them. He felt used up and tired. He couldn’t feel that way and be there for the kids. No way he could make mistakes with them around.

Daryl wasn’t planning on leaving forever, either. Until he got his head right and got back, he knew Carol would be there, and they’d be okay. It hadn’t been an easy decision to go, but through all the years since the world fell, he’d had a thought nagging at the back of his mind. Through all the horrors of battles won and lost, with all the blood that had been spilled in the last ten years, she should have been the furthest thing from his mind. Yet, there she was. Her name itched the back of his brain, irritating him in the worst possible moments. Her face still haunted his dreams, and he would wake with the guilt of knowing he had left her behind.

In the years since, he convinced himself she hadn’t made it. That was how he got on with every day, doing what was necessary for his new-found family to survive. He rarely worried about his own life; he didn’t before the world fell, why would he now? Then, he met them all. He met Glen and Rick, and Hershel and Maggie. They fought like hell, side by side, in some of the most terrifying situations; and most times, they won because they had stuck together. Now, there was some quiet. Some assemblance of real peace. That’s when (Y/N)’s face came back into his dreams, and her name started to itch again. He never really let her go, just like he never really let Rick go.

Carol caught him one night, out in the Plaza at the Commonwealth. It was after the mess had been cleaned up, and those who had been in charge were now nothing but a memory. Weeks had passed and he just couldn’t find that sense of contentment that most of the others had. When his best friend asked him why, he absently said her name and had realized he said it allowed. Carol asked a few more questions, and Daryl’s dam of memories with (Y/N) crashed open. After an hour of recounting story after story about their childhood together, Carol encouraged him to head down south.

“You’ll never be able to really be happy, Daryl. I know you. You carry these things with you and don’t know how to set them down. Yes, the chances that she’s still alive are small. But how many times have we thought that, and we were wrong. Hell, you dug me a grave at the Prison, remember? I was stuck in that cell for days. You found me. I’m here because you wouldn’t give up. You found me.” She placed her hand on the knee of his ripped pants and gave it a squeeze. “If she is still stuck in your head, then at least go to give yourself some peace of mind. If she’s not there, then you know. If she is, then you know.”

It took him a few more days to convince himself to pack supplies for the trip. The Commonwealth had cleared a lot of the areas between there and where he was headed, so the risk was minimal, but not totally gone. RJ and Judith were okay with him going, as long as he promised to come back. No matter what, that would be a promise he would keep.

Two days on the road with clear pavement, he made good time before entering South Carolina. The dangerous part was going to be traversing the backroads to the southwest part of the state where he figured she would be. IF she was alive… IF she was STILL alive, that’s where she’d be.

The sun was setting, and with it the heat of the day started to fade. Daryl was grateful for the relief and began to slow the bike as he approached yet another abandoned small, one-stoplight town. Coming to a stop at the ghostly intersection, he had to make the choice to push on through the dark or try to find a safe place to hold up for the night. He could hear a few far off groans of the walkers, and thought he would be better to push on past this little hamlet, and maybe find a spot off the road to camp. (Y/N)’s family estate was maybe another hour further, going at the slower pace he was now.

He had only been there once, a million years ago, and never inside the place. She had called him on a rare night he and Merle had actually been home. There was a bad storm raging, and Merle had been too drunk already to even think about leaving the house that night, so of course, Daryl stayed in with him. Their father was on a bender somewhere in Atlanta, and it was a rare treat to have the place to themselves for an extended amount of time. So, when she called crying, asking him to pick her up on the corner by the gas station, his gut reaction was to say, no. Then he heard the fear in her voice and knew he could never leave her alone and afraid. Merle was too far gone to see Daryl steal the keys to the ratty old pickup truck, and he certainly didn’t notice when it started up and left the house.

Daryl found (Y/N) standing in the pouring rain, absolutely soaked to the bone. Make-up was running down her cheeks, but he didn’t know if it was from the rain or from her crying. She was visibly shaken, and when he asked her what happened she couldn’t answer him at first. He had known her since they were five years old, and in all those years between he had never seen her like this. (Y/N) was normally tough and stoic. She wasn’t one of those girls that showed a lot of emotion. If she fell off her bike, she never cried. The time she fell out of the stupid fort they tried to build and broke her arm, she waved it off and walked home without a complaint. (Y/N) wasn’t a neglected kid, at least not like him and Merle had been. Daryl didn’t always know the extent of what she dealt with at home, but he knew she was broken like he was, even as kids. Maybe that’s why they stayed close for so long. They could see that in each other.

Being so deep in thought about (Y/N), Daryl wasn’t paying enough attention to the road ahead, and it was nearly too late to swerve to avoid the old wreckage in the road, but he still was able to not hit the ancient station wagon that stood in his path. He veered enough to the left to avoid it, but not avoid laying down the bike completely.

“Shit!” he shouted, as he slid across the pavement away from the bike. Thankfully he had slowed down a lot since the highway, but didn’t make it hurt any less, or mean that his bike hadn’t been damaged. He checked around him to see if the sound of the accident drew any attention from the dead. When he was sure it was safe, he got on his feet with a grunt and limped back to where his bike lay on the ground. Once he got it upright, he could see right away that it would need a few repairs before it would be safe to ride. “SHIT!” he growled again, then released a deep sigh from his chest.

A sharp, stinging pain in his left arm caused him to stop and check out the injury there. He couldn’t see how bad it was without taking off his leather jacket, but it had torn through enough to see blood. He took the rag from his back pocket and quickly tied it around his upper arm as a make-shirt tourniquet for the time being. It only took a second for him to realize the wound was almost in the same spot he’d been cut there before.

“Really hope she’s still alive and still there.” Despite being in pain, frustrated and tired, Daryl snorted a laugh when the memory popped into his head of the first time she had to tend to one of his injuries. “Gonna need her to stitch me up ag’in.”

“What the hell happened to you?” she asked, examining the cut above Daryl’s eye and the large gash he had on his arm. “Just what you need. More scars… Was it your dad again? Or Merle this time?”

“Neither. Stupidass Tommy Blake. He thought he’d be smart and try to start shit.”

“Clearly, he started it, but I hope you finished it. That guy deserves an ass kickin’.”

“Mhm,” Daryl grunted. “C’mon, stitch me up, would ya?” Daryl used his chin to nod at the yarn and hook she had sitting beside her on the porch swing.

(Y/N) looked over her shoulder to see what he was referring to. “That’s crocheting, you ass. I don’t know how to sew.”

“Same shit. C’mon, I’m bleedin’ all over mama’s precious porch here.”

“Good. I hope she sees it.” She grabbed his arm again to see how deeply he had been cut. “Seriously though, why me? Better off at the Urgent Care.”

“Got no cash. Besides, you do all that craft shit. I know you can do it.”

“I CROCHET Daryl, I don’t SEW.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Whatever! Just grab a needle and thread, I’ll walk ya through it.”

That’s what she did. They sat on the porch swing on a late Georgia summer afternoon, and as she painstakingly sewed up the cut on his arm, he had to laugh at how her tongue peeked through her parted lips proving she was deep in concentration.

“Some time this century grandma, this ain’t no cotillion dress.”

“Fuck you. I’m going as fast as I can.”

“Mhm, sure. I think you just like touchin’ my arm,” he teased, knowing it would piss her off.

“I swear, I don’t want to hurt you, but I will punch you right in the stitches that are already done if you don’t shut up and let me work here.”

Daryl could hear a rumble of thunder far off in the distance, and began to walk his broken bike in the direction of where he hoped (Y/N) was. He hoped against all that told him she was already dead, that she would answer the door, and maybe help stitch him up again.

An hour by bike turned into nearly four while walking with the broken bike. It was well past midnight, but whatever storm had blown through was gone, and the sky was as clear as could be. He lucked out and had a nearly full moon that was able to guide him in the right direction. When the large, rambling estate finally came into view, he was surprised to see that it didn’t look as run down and abandoned as he worried it would be.

Finally reaching the wrought iron gate that stood a quarter mile between him and the front door of the home, Daryl leaned the bike against it and drew in a deep breath. His mind begged him to rest for a few minutes if for no other reason than to be ready to battle whatever came out of that house. It could be a house of walkers. It could be a house of people. Those people could NOT be (Y/N) and they could be armed to the teeth. You just never knew what to expect from this world anymore.

He took the pack from the bike and slung it over his shoulder. Daryl paused, and made sure his gun was still in place and checked to reassure himself it was fully loaded. His rough and scraped fingers touched against the set of knives he wore on his hip and then felt ready to go see what or who was living in the big house.

Staring up at the big iron gate, he could easily see the large chain and padlock that was on it. No big deal, it had never stopped him before. He began to walk the perimeter and found a spot where the ground rose up enough that he could make a jump, grab the top of the iron fencing and pull himself up. The pain in his arm screamed at him and he felt a gush of blood warm against the inside of his jacket, but paid it no mind.

Once he hoisted himself over the fence and onto the grounds, he ended up facing the side of the house. In one of the windows, he could see some faint light and the shadow of a person moving around. A small bit of hope grew. He rechecked that all his supplies and weapons were still in place, and headed in the direction of the light.

“Sure you don’t want me to take you further?” Daryl asked her. (Y/N) slowly shook her head. “Why not?”

“You know that my dad would have something to say if you brought me to the front door. He hates that I hang out with you.”

“Fuck him. He’s a dick.”

“You’re not wrong. But after everything that happened last night, I don’t need to deal with that, too.”

She had finally told him how Tommy Blake had turned on her and attacked her when she said she wouldn’t go have sex with him by the quarry. Daryl gritted his teeth the whole drive from their modest Georgia suburb to (Y/N)’s father’s house in South Carolina. He would have brought her back to his house, but with a drunk Merle lurking, who knows what would have happened.

“I hate it here,” she whispered and looked out the window at the oversized southern mansion.

“Shit, I’ll stay. You take the truck back and go home to the trailer and Merle.”

“Um, no.” She laughed. “Though, can’t really say your drunk brother would be a worse alternative to my drunk father. But at least here I have a room with a lock on the door.”

“He better not lay a hand on you. Why the hell you wanna come here anyway? I coulda just taken you home.”

“Nah,” she shook her head and sighed. “Mom is no better. She’ll just tell me to suck it up, was probably my fault anyway.”

“You know it wasn’t though, right? That asshole has it comin’ to him when I get back home.”

“Don’t bother, Daryl. He was so high he won’t even know or remember why you’re beatin’ his ass.”

“Like I care.”

“I need you to care. Okay? I’m not staying here forever. I will be back in Georgia soon. I just need to breathe. And when I get back, last thing I want to have to do is bail your ass out of jail.”

“Fine,” Daryl grunted. “You call me when you’re ready to come back. If I can steal the truck again, I’ll come’n get ya.”

(Y/N) got quiet again. She looked like she wanted to say more, but instead she just turned to him with a sad little smile and nodded. “Thank you.”

Daryl was within steps of the front porch. He never got the chance to climb the steps to knock. Whomever was inside must have heard him somehow and came downstairs to see who was lurking. Another faint light began to illuminate the room right beyond the front door. After a loud click of the interior lock, the front door opened a crack. The light from inside was enough for him to see the barrel of a shotgun sticking out.

“Who are you!?” a deeper, but female voice, called from inside.

“Name’s Daryl,” he called back and slowly raised both hands into the air so that whomever was inside could see he wasn’t carrying a weapon. “Lookin’ for a girl that used to live here.”

“Lots of people have passed through here in the years. We got an army inside, fully armed. So if you’re here to cause trouble–”

“Nah, just lookin’ for an old friend,” he yelled back. He wasn’t too scared of the threat, he figured if there had been an armed army inside, he would already be surrounded with guns pointed at his head. “Her name is (Y/N). Back before the world died, this was her dad’s house.”

Silence. The barrel of the shotgun never moved, nor did the door. A minute passed, and finally the gun was lowered and the door cracked open a bit more.

“Daryl, who? Daryl Dixon?”

A feeling of relief tore through his chest and despite everything he had been feeling, he smiled. “Yeah, Dixon.”

The door opened all the way, and the lights from inside spilled out onto the porch. (Y/N) stepped out into the night air. The way the shadows fell, her face was obscured from him, but Daryl would know her from anywhere.

“Had an accident on my way here. Ripped my arm open. Was hopin’ you could stitch me up, again.”

(Y/N) reached the top of the front steps, and this time the moonlight allowed him to see her face. She was older for sure, but the years hadn’t seemed to be too hard on her. She was still beautiful, and when her lips twitched into her crooked smile, he felt even more relieved.

“I don’t sew, you asshole. Thought we’ve been through this already.”

“Still got the magic tough,” Daryl laughed and snaked his now sewn up arm back through his leather jacket.

“I just–I can’t believe you’re alive. And here. Where… HOW are you here?”

“Figured if you were still standin’ you’d be standin’ here. At least I hoped.”

(Y/N) bit down on her lower lip and drew in a deep breath through her nose, slowly releasing it. “Yeah. Here I am. You look like you’ve been through Hell and back.”

“Close enough,” he mumbled, suddenly feeling shy and unsure of what to say. “It’s been rough. The group I got with, we had our troubles along the way. But it’s a strong group, I guess that’s why we made it.”

“Merle?”

Daryl hadn’t heard his brother’s name in a long time. Though it had been years since he had to put Merle down, it still stung. He lowered his head and shook it slowly. “He didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry.” It was all she could manage to squeak out. The shock of seeing Daryl again was still fresh. She had thought he was long gone, though that didn’t stop her from thinking about him all the time. “I’m glad you’re here. Shocked, but glad. I have a room upstairs you can use. Take a hot shower. Are you hungry?”

“I could eat. But shower sounds better.”

“C’mon, I’ll show you the room. You get cleaned up and I can make you something to eat.”

Daryl finished cleaning up, put on a clean shirt from his pack and found his pants, now patched up, laying on the bed. He made his way back downstairs and slowly walked through the house looking for the kitchen. With each room he passed by or looked into, he was in awe of how well things seemed to hold up through the years. He had a million questions for her but didn’t want to push for answers. Finally, he pushed through a set of swinging doors and found himself standing in the kitchen. (Y/N) was at the island counter, slicing what looked like ham off the bone and piling it onto a hearty slice of bread that already had lettuce and some ripe tomatoes on it.

“Damn, looks good,” he said as he slowly made his way closer to her.

“Veg is from the garden out back. Been able to keep it going fairly well. Baked the bread this morning and the ham, well… a great sacrifice from one of the older piglets.”

“So, just you here?”

“Mhm. Wasn’t always just me. People have passed through, some stayed for a while. But after the last bunch, I stopped taking people in. Figured if they were this far into the pandemic, they could survive on their own.”

“Last bunch? Lemme guess… caused a whole lotta trouble?”

(Y/N) nodded without looking away from slicing the ham. She placed the other piece of bread on top and pushed the plate towards Daryl. “Eat up. Want a drink? Got water from the tap. Actually stays cold from the well. Or, I got whiskey.”

“Whiskey,” he said without hesitation before pulling the plate with the sandwich on it closer. He used both hands to pick up and took a big bite. It didn’t strike him until that moment that he hadn't eaten all day. Last meal was a can of beans over a campfire with a few hunks of stale bread. The Commonwealth hadn’t been hurting for food, but the rations he took for the trip didn’t last long.

(Y/N) rifled through the cabinets until she produced a clear decanter of whiskey and two crystal tumblers. She placed them on the counter and poured a hefty shot into each. “My grannie sure did love her crystal,” she said absently as she moved one of the glasses towards Daryl. “Lotta good it did her in the long run.”

They lifted their glasses and clicked the edges together. “To old friends,” she said. Daryl repeated her toast and they each downed the biting brown liquid.

Some brief small talk was exchanged while Daryl ate his sandwich, but when he was done, the kitchen got very quiet.

“Why are you really here, Daryl? And, where have you been all these years?”

“Been all over,” he said quietly. A flash flood of memories whipped through his mind, not really sure if he should start from the beginning and tell her all of it. “Now we’re staying in a large community north of here. The Commonwealth.”

(Y/N) let out a loud, snorting laugh and promptly refilled her glass. “Oh, I know the Commonwealth. Some of their,” she used her fingers in air quotes, “‘soldiers’ were the last group that I had here. Claimed to be recruiting for the community. But really they just wanted my land and the house. Heard them talking about how their leader would love the place. Just what she needed. When I told them no, they got hostile. For two days I battled to get them out of this place. When the last of ‘em finally left, I told them if they were ever spotted this far south again, I’d resurrect the Confederacy and reign hell down on them.”

Daryl laughed. “And they believed you?”

“I took out six of them before they could even blink. I think they got how serious I was.”

“Six? Shit. I trained to be one of those soldiers. They aren’t soft men and women.”

“No. They aren’t. But I’m harder and I won’t take shit from outsiders.”

“I can see that.”

“You never answered me. Why are you here, Daryl?”

Daryl cleared his throat, then reached for the decanter of whiskey. After another shot, he simply shrugged. “Wanted to know if you were still alive.”

Her gaze narrowed on him as if she didn’t believe him straight away. By all that he could see, it looked as if she survived fairly easily. The house wasn’t in a state of decay, she was clean, clothes neat, and still looked like she did all those years ago but she’d gotten harder than her fancy granite counters. It made him wonder how the girl he knew had become the woman before him.

“I’m alive. So are you, though, you look like you’ve been through it. You certainly look different. Last time I saw you, you weren’t a boy exactly, but you sure are a man now.”

“Yeah, well. I didn’t have a fortress like this to hold up in. I was out on the road, always fighting to stay alive, to eat, to… to keep others alive.”

She shook her head and reached for the decanter again, but Daryl stopped her. “Nah, don’t do that. Roll your eyes then go for the booze. Say what you wanna say.”

“Ok, fine. That was your choice, Daryl. When things started going to shit and I told you I was heading up here. I told you to come with me. Hell, I fucking BEGGED you to come with me.”

“I remember,” he said, the rush of the moment and the heat of the whiskey was fueling him. “I also remember you said, but NOT my brother. Merle wasn’t welcome.”

“Damn right Merle wasn’t welcome. You were though. You could have been here with me all this time. But no, loyalty to your brother kept you living on the road. Scouring for scraps of food, dealing with God only knows what kind of people.”

“Worst of the worst kinda people.”

“My point.”

“You damn well knew I wouldn’t leave Merle behind. He’s my brother! WAS my brother, (Y/N). He’s all I had in this goddamn world back then.”

“Bullshit. All he ever did was get you in trouble and bring you down. Since we were all kids, he was always dragging you into some kind of mess. Remember Tommy Blake? That fight you had with him and I had to sew your arm up? That was because of Merle!”

“What was I supposed to do?! He was the only one who ever gave a damn about me growing up!”

“No, he wasn’t and you know it! Your loyalty had you blinded to him. I gave a shit about you!” Both of their voices were getting louder and louder with each line thrown at the other. “And look, you still lost him anyway! How much trouble did he cause for you until he died?!”

Daryl wanted to lash out at her, but he couldn’t because she was right and also because it wasn’t why he came all this way. (Y/N), however, wasn’t done with her tirade.

“Goddamnit, Daryl! You know how many years I stood on that porch and watched people approaching the gates, praying that you would be among them? Hoping, just HOPING you were at least still alive somewhere!”

“Just, stop… I wasn’t gonna leave my brother behind. Not for anyone.”

“Clearly, because he was the end all be all of your existence!”

“Jesus… I didn’t come all the way for this…”

“Some things never change. You’re still an ass!”

“Yeah, well, you’re still a know-it-all bitch!”

“And I still love you!”

Her words stopped Daryl from saying anything else. It was his turn to narrow his gaze at her, trying to understand what the hell she meant by that.

“Look, I don’t wanna fight with you–”

“What does that mean? You never told me that.”

“What? That I loved you?” she snorted a laugh. “Why would I have told you, Daryl? I had to spell everything out for you. You weren’t the only one with a shitty childhood, you know. My parents, they didn’t hurt me the way yours did; never laid a hand on me. But, they never laid a hand on me lovingly, either.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means I don’t know how to show people I love them. I don’t know when I should hug someone, or show affection. If I tried with them, I got swatted away, like I was a fuckin’ pest. I was a burden to them and everyone around me. Including you. It wouldn’t have mattered back then, anyway. Even if I could have stripped myself naked in front of you and told you everything I felt for you, and you still wouldn’t have seen it. Your world revolved around Merle. I’m sorry he’s gone, I am. But, I can see you’re a different man now. You’re not the same guy that was led around by his brother anymore. I don’t know what you’ve been through, but I can guess that change happened after he died.”

He hated that she was partially right. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“Ok, keep telling yourself that. It may have been ten years since I last saw you, but don’t forget, I knew you for years before that. YEARS, Daryl. I know everything about you. I know, at your core, who you were, and how badly you wanted to allow yourself to be that person. I also know that man is standing here in front of me now. He wouldn’t be if Merle–”

“Stop, (Y/N). Maybe you’re right. He’s been gone for years, and yeah, he did hold me back. The people I was with all this time, people I’m still with, they made me who I am now. That kid you knew back then, he’s long gone. And for the record, you weren’t some kinda burden to me. You were my friend. I woulda done anything for ya.”

“You did, to a point. Then Merle would come along and… But you’re right. It's the past and bringing up Merle doesn’t do us any good now.”

The kitchen grew quiet again. This time, it was Daryl that reached for the whiskey and refilled both glasses. Slowly, they each lifted the crystal to their lips, but this time sipped on the drink. (Y/N) placed her glass down and leaned her elbows on the island counter.

“Want another sandwich?”

“Nah,” he grunted.

“Wanna tell me why you’re here? We keep getting sidetracked from that question.”

“I told you, I wanted to see if you were still alive.”

“So, let me get this straight… you and your friends are living it up in the Commonwealth, training to be soldiers, working jobs, living life… and you just decide to travel all this way through backroads of who knows what, and see if I am alive?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Bullshit.”

“Ok then, asshole, why do you think I did it?”

(Y/N) was thoughtful for a moment, but then Daryl noticed her lips forming into that little smirk she had; the one he would dream about. “Maybe because you missed me. And now that you’re in a stable place, you wanted to come ‘n tell me as much.”

She challenged him with a raise of her brow, and as much as he wanted to deny it and tell her how wrong she was, he couldn’t. Instead, he shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe I did.”

(Y/N) reached her hand across the counter and covered Daryl’s. “I’m glad you did.” She saw that the bandage she had put on his arm earlier was bleeding through. “C’mon, get out of that shirt.”

“Damn girl, I just got here.”

“You’re bleeding, dumbass. I wanna change your bandage. Jesus… Tell a guy you love him and he immediately thinks you’re trying to get laid.” She paused before walking out of the kitchen and turned back to him, one brow raised and a smirk on her face. “And, maybe I am… but you still need that changed first.”

Daryl followed her out of the kitchen through the swinging doors and down the hall to a parlor room. There were lanterns burning low, giving off a soft light but enough for him to see the medical supplies she had set up around the room.

“Here, sit.” She pointed to the bench near the lantern. “Shirt off please, and no smart smartmouth comments.”

“No promises,” he grumbled and watched her go to a cabinet that was filled with rubbing alcohol and bandages. “Damn, you got a stockpile here.”

“Yep. You think I just hid away in this big… fortress is what you called it, right?”

“C’mon, (Y/N), I was just–”

“I know, being salty. I didn’t just hide here, Daryl. I mean, yes, at first I did. But once dad and grannie were gone, and it was just me, I went out, gathered supplies. Found animals to breed for food. Found ways to fortify this place and make a sustainable home. I did that. Me. I’m not some weak ass woman who just hid.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. Trust me, never thought you were weak. Like, ever.”

“Good.”

(Y/N) came and sat down on the bench next to him. She repositioned the lantern to see his wound easier, and that’s when she caught sight of his back. Some of the scars she knew well, they had been courtesy of his father’s belt. But there were so many more, some fresh. She thought she could actually feel her heart break in two thinking about the horrible things he must have gone through.

“Daryl…” she started to say, then stopped. Dabbing a cotton ball with rubbing alcohol, There’s so many more, she thought. Gingerly, she sponged the fresh blood from around his cut. “What happened out there?”

He didn’t answer at first. In the low light of the room, she could see the mix of emotions that ran across his face. His blue eyes cast to the ground as if he was ashamed.

“Whatever it was… I won’t… couldn’t ever think less of you.”

“Doesn’t matter. People tried to beat us down. We wouldn’t let them.”

She absently reached up and tucked a long tendril of his hair behind his ear, then lightly took his chin between her fingers and turned his head to look back up at her.

“I have never been good at expressing my feelings. Never been good at anything like that. I’ve gotten better about it over the years. Losing people left and right like we do. Had to learn to let people know what they mean to me. So, for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you. For whatever you fought through, whatever you had to endure. You’re still here, thriving in this hellscape of a world. And now you’re here sitting in my house just because you wanted to know if I was alive. That means something.”

Daryl dared to look up and meet her eyes. For the second time in his life, he saw tears there. They were a whole lot different than the tears he saw the night he picked her up in the rain at that gas station, but she was still just as beautiful. He reached up his hand and took hers that held his chin, bringing it down to his leg, then laced his fingers with hers.

“I shoulda went with you when you asked.”

She slowly shook her head no. “I’m glad you didn’t. Because it wouldn’t have lasted. I think part of me knew that back then. You would have always wondered about your brother. Regardless of what I thought of him, you loved him. You had to stay with him. You woulda just gone to look for him, like you are here looking for me, now.”

“And, maybe, you had to do this,” he said, motioning around towards the room. “Being here, helping people that came through. Going out to scavenge for supplies on your own. You were always tough, but now, you ain’t that scared kid anymore, either.”

“Guess we both did some growing up,” she said, and reluctantly took her hand from his to continue dressing his wound. “So, what now? You see I’m alive and doing okay. Stay a few days and head back home?”

“Guess so,” he said, though he didn’t know if that was really what he wanted to do. Back home meant the Commonwealth. Sure it was safe, and aptly stocked for its many residents, but he never really did feel comfortable in such a big place. Even with his own people in power, it felt too open, too exposed for his liking. “I got people back there. Kids… I promised ‘em I’d come back.”

“You have kids?!”

“Well, no. I mean, kinda. They ain’t mine. I’m just keeping an eye on them til their mom gets back. The girl, Judith, she was born in the beginning when we were on the road. Her dad, Rick, he… he became my brother in it all, ya know? Her ma died havin’ her, so we all kinda took part in makin’ sure she was okay. We got to this new place up in Virginia, things were good. Rick found someone again, they were happy. Then, he was gone. I lost another brother and it damn near wrecked me. Spent months trying to find him, but all I ever found was his gun. His new wife was pregnant, so when RJ came along, we did what we always do, helped out. They call me Uncle Daryl.”

“Wow…” she whispered, genuinely touched and surprised at what he was telling her. “I cannot imagine you with kids. Even if they aren’t yours.”

“Their mom, she thinks Rick may still be out there, so she’s out lookin’. Me ‘n Carol, we take care of them.”

“Carol? Is she part of your group, or is she… your wife?”

Daryl snorted. “Wife? Nah. Carol is my best friend. She’s the one who told me I should come ‘n try to find you.”

“Remind me to thank her if I ever meet her.”

“You’d like her. Hell, she’d love you.”

“Good to know,” (Y/N) said, and he noticed the little smile that came to her lips.

“So, uh, what you said before in the kitchen. You mean that?”

“What part? That you’re still an ass? Yes, with all my heart.”

Daryl rolled his eyes and watched her finish replacing the bandage on his arm. “You know what I mean.”

“Oh,” she said, “that. I meant it.”

Daryl bit the inside of his lip and nodded before he stood up and put his shirt back on. (Y/N) stood up alongside him and once he had his shirt situated, she stepped closer and threw her arms around his neck to hug him before he could even think about objecting. Not that he would have.

“I only ever wanted you in my life, Daryl. I want you to stay for as long as you can stay and I hope that’s a long time.” Her words were muffled a bit because her face was buried in his neck, but he heard everything she said. A moment later, she pulled back and while her eyes were dry, he could see the high emotions set across her face. “I know you have to go back. You have family there, and you have to keep your promise. But now you know where I am and that I’m alive, maybe next time, don’t take so long coming back around.”

Daryl wanted to say what was on his mind, but instead it came out as a deep grunt from his chest.

“Yeah well, I woulda come sooner, but needed to find my own way, first.”

“Maybe we can find our way together now?”

“I do gotta go back. But, I think we could. Not now though, and probably not tomorrow. Would like to stay for a while, if that’s okay.”

(Y/N) lightly touched his cheek and guided his face closer to hers so she could leave a soft kiss on his lips. “It’s more than okay. Maybe one day when you do come back, it will be to stay for good.”

Daryl thought about that, and thought, maybe it could be. The reason he was so restless at the Commonwealth was because even though it was now a peaceful community in good hands, it never felt like home. That moment, sitting in the big house on the sprawling grounds, with (Y/N) was the most he had felt like he was home in years. He couldn’t get himself to tell her this now, but maybe one day he could. Maybe one day, he would tell her that he loved her too, and his home was wherever she was.

Maybe.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fan fics #daryl dixon #twd fan fics

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ofbluesandyellows · 1 year

Text

Committed to the Cause - TASM! Peter Parker / Fem! Reader

Summary: Spider-Man gets injured in battle, he accidentally crashes into you and his hero complex comes into action. As he tries his best to redeem himself he can’t find a way out from the guilt and unbidden feelings.

Word count: 5,321

Warnings: mentions of blood, injuries, swear words, grief.

a/n: Hi! It’s me again, here I bring a story I started writing almost a year ago but i kind of forgot it existed until like four months ago. It’s a tasm! one, hope you like it! I divided it in 3 parts because it is a bit long so yeah, have fun :)

Part 1

Peter Parker sat down near Gwen Stacy’s grave, the sky was evenly gray and the cool air swirled around making the snowflakes dance away and float around. It’s been only a week since he came back to his universe.

“I wonder how Peter 2 and Peter 1 are doing right now.” He whispered to Gwen, while his fingers brushed through the colorful daisies he bought for her. “I’m Peter 3 you know? I guess 3 is just the best number,” he shrugged remembering the chaos of that night around his brothers from another universe, literally.

“Honestly Gwen, if you only could’ve seen them—see us. They were truly amazing, and the way we all connected and then we were shooting webs, the synchronicity that I experienced— I never had that. It was as if we could read each other’s minds and wow—it was fucking cool.“

Peter sighed, a hue of vapor escaped his lips. “I bet you saw it though, how I saved MJ? Peter 1’s girlfriend, I did what I couldn’t do for you Gwen. I’m sorry, I'll always be sorry for that.”

Adjusting his beanie tighter to his head when a sudden wave of wind made his skin form goosebumps. Deep in his heart he could feel that Gwen was actually listening to his banter, that this was her way of telling him that things were okay between the two.

Peter went to see Gwen every week, she was the love of his life, he was certain of it. But the truth was that Peter had lost all hope on love after Gwen.

He’d be lying if he denied the fact that he had found himself thinking of what Peter 2 said to him; that things worked out fine eventually in the love department, it put the seed of curiosity in him, what if things actually changed for him, in his heart, and he could finally let Gwen rest. He was clinging to her memory like a life jacket, if he let go he would drown, he would lose himself to the darkness.

His phone buzzed as a message showed him a text of the police department trying to contact Spider-Man.

“Gotta go Gwen, I’ll see you next week. Love you so much.” He put a kiss on his palm to then let it linger on her tombstone.

In a hidden part of an alley he put his mask on, he had to put his stuff between some garbage bags so people wouldn’t steal it, there wasn’t much to steal there, still he plastered it with web fluid, a force of habit. He swung between tall buildings and across streets, hearing sudden gasps and shouts announcing his presence in the city. It was funny how things had actually changed for him in the span of years; The Daily Bugle seemed to stop with the nasty propaganda; he was now on good terms with the police, he also had free health insurance thanks to the police department and he was doing well financially. Stark Industries was a place he never thought he would find a spot to fit in, to do the research he felt drawn to.

There were big threats still in New York but Peter didn’t feel that dread whenever he fought, the constant fear of losing someone he loved, those being the benefits of being alone, but how alone could you be to start missing the company of a partner after years of being lonesome?

Spider-Man quickly solved the robbery near the upper east side, it wasn’t a major thing, the thieves got webbed and delivered to the detectives, he got a bullet wound in his shoulder but nothing some tweezers, neosporin and a bandage couldn’t solve. Peter was even able to do so by himself now: the perks of being alone.

Peter had received several injuries and even more deeper wounds than the one he had on his shoulder but this one time as he shoot a strand of web coming from his right arm—the wounded one—his arm didn’t find it easy to carry his weight, and he was feeling somewhat dizzy, he thought it was the blood lose, because he hadn’t received a kick to the head nor anywhere his body could react the way it was doing now. He found himself screaming as he fell from a twenty four storage building.

“Watch out! Spider down!”

His instincts shouted at him to use his other web shooter, he did so, but Peter was being a little clumsy today. Slow motion turned on in his brain. The web-thread splashed on the building in front of him, but the height wasn’t enough to make him swing by without any implications. The chime of a bicycle bell was his only warning. After that he felt the clash of his body against something warm and then he rolled on the cold concrete.

That was embarrassing. People screamed and sooner than what Spider-Man could recover, people were surrounding him to help him get up.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” He spoke under the mask, his shoulder throbbing with every move.

It took him a few seconds to register what just happened. He saw a mint green bike with a twisted handlebar, a bunch of flowers scattered and crushed on the ground and then panic started to bubble in his chest. A girl—a young woman was sitting on the wet asphalt, a few people were kneeling by her side as she held her arm against her chest.

Spider-Man ran to her side, pushing the pedestrians lightly. Squatting down, his eyes scanning her, a scrape on her cheek and forehead on the same side of what he guessed was an injured arm.

“I am so sorry, I swear this isn’t me, I mean it is me but I don’t know what happened I don’t— are you alright? Can I help you with anything?”

The woman had pools of tears on the rim of her eyes, she was holding them in, because that was just humiliating, she was late for the delivery and now she had lost the bouquets and she didn’t dare to accuse The Spider-Man of her bad luck. The day was not a good one since the start. This was the ultimate confirmation.

“No, Spider-Man… sir, It’s not your fault, I just, I think I broke my arm.” She was barely able to pronounce the words, she was in terrible pain, how could she know?

“Oh, let me see.” Peter gulped under the mask, his stomach churning. He had broken the woman’s arm, this was bad. Taking her elbow she winced, tears finally slipped down her cheeks, shit. “Ms. I need to take you to the hospital.”

“No, no I have work, I can't go to the hospital now.” He saw the panic take over her features.

“It’s the least I could do. I caused this, please let me do something.”

Guilt was eating him alive, the more time he spent there with all the witnesses watching and telling her she should take Spider-Man’s word.

She felt a little hazy on the head, like when you take a pill to not get dizzy on a long road trip, and everything starts to lose sense, sounds muffling. She shook her head trying to keep the masked hero away, she had to work, she needed to gather the flowers and—

“Ms.?” Spider-Man felt panic, a rush of blood like his spider senses were going off.

Her eyes rolled backwards and she went limp on his arms.

“No, no, no.” he mumbled, taking her in his arms he did what he could to swing through the city to reach the nearest hospital.

People, nurses, doctors, they all came to a halt when they saw Spider-Man arrive carrying a woman on his arms, this was quite the scene Peter could imagine but he was not able to think straight not when he had hurt someone—by mere accident that was true, yet the guilt was so heavy he felt like he could cry under the mask.

“I need help please!” He shouted and as if he had broken a curse, nurses and doctors moved again, some of them walking towards him.

“What happened?” a nurse asked as they started moving him to a nearby stretcher.

“uh, I… she had an accident on her bike and I think her arm is broken and she has a concussion or something I’m not sure.”

The nurse nodded as they put oxygen on the girl quickly moving her to the ER. Peter followed them until someone stopped him. “Sorry man, you can’t come in.”

“Oh, yeah ok. I’ll just wait.”

“You need to get yourself fixed too.” The same nurse told him, pointing to his shoulder. “You’re ruining the floor.”

Peter’s eyes looked down and there, from his shoulder all the way down to his finger tips a thread of blood was dripping down, leaving crimson drops on the floor.

“Sorry,”

A minute later another nurse got to him and made him follow her into a room.

“We know you can’t reveal your identity and if people keep on seeing you out there they’re gonna start asking questions and it’s gonna be messy. So mister Spider-Man can you take off your suit? The mask can stay on, I need to clean that.”

Peter was a bit shocked still and maybe the blood loss was not helping so he nodded, his suit landed at his feet in a pool or red and blue, at least he was wearing a nice pair of boxers.

“I recommend you to come back later, you will only cause drama here, mister Spider-Man”

The nurse said and Peter just watched her work.

He was good as new in no time. His head felt light still but he managed to swing back to where he put his belongings in that alley. With the last bits of adrenalin still in him, he swung back to May’s, he sat on his old bed, suit on, mask off. The uneasiness he felt in his chest was suffocating. Why did he leave the hospital then? He couldn’t be at peace now. And why did he end up at May’s when he had his own apartment in Manhattan?

Maybe his injury affected his brain, his eyes checked his shoulder and the little wound was almost closed, thank goodness for fast healing but what about those who didn’t have that… What about the girl?

He wanted to make sure the girl he hurt was okay, it was an obvious statement. Yet he couldn’t go as Peter because he didn’t know anything about her and ugh, he grunted against his hands. Then he could go as Spider-Man. He knew the nurses would let him in if he asked kindly. However, he was scared of the reaction of the girl, what would she think of him of his idiocy. Spider-Man was not known for hurting pedestrians, he was supposed to save them not harm them.

His phone chimed from inside his backpack, Peter was on a streak of bad luck.

The news on his mistake quickly spread, he shook his head reading the article The Bugle had just released, how were they so fast? He wondered as his messages continued to pop up, Jonah Jameson wanted photos of Spider-Man, Peter’s former boss couldn’t let the other news sites win the exclusive so when it came to Spider-Man he still contacted Peter for exclusive photos, and Peter delivered, just because the news always made him look nice, but not this time.

Peter groaned even louder, this was not how he planned his day to go. Whenever he visited Gwen he usually had the best experiences afterwards, once he found a fifty dollar bill on the subway, just lying there on a seat, and then there was this other time where he got a free coffee because the owner proposed to her girlfriend and the drinks were free.

But that luck seemed to be long gone.

“Peter, are you in there?”

Peter’s heart jumped, he didn’t know May was home. “Yes it’s me, May!”

“Are you okay?"

“Um, yeah. I just got work to do and you know me… I’m complaining.”

“With the amount of hours you work I’d complain too. Are you heading out? I need you to bring me some bread and milk, are you staying the night, right?”

“Yeah, sure, May. Why not! Are you working today?”

“Yes, but the car is at the mechanic,” Shit, Peter totally forgot about that, he made a mental note to give May some money to get that car fixed.

“At what time you’re off?” he asked, putting a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie on. “Do you want me to pick you up?” he said, opening the door.

May shook her head, a sweet smile on her face, “No, Peter. Jamie, my coworker is driving me back, you’re fine. Just don’t come back too late okay.”

Her hand caressed Peter’s cheek, making his anxious body feel slightly better. He gave her palm a light kiss and nodded. “Of course not May, when have I been late for our weekly dinners?”

He let out a chuckle watching May drop her hand as she rolled her eyes, she shook her head and with a tired sigh she only added. “Don’t forget the bread and milk!”

“I won’t!”

His smile dropped once he heard his phone buzz again. Plopping on the bed, with furrowed eyebrows, and a guilty mind, he took the decision he guessed was the most appropriate, maybe was a little over the top either way his hazy mind was calling the shots for the day.

He found himself crawling up the walls of the hospital at night, after finding the girl’s room. Spider-Man found a way in, the windows were tiny but not too tiny to not let him sneak his body inside. Crazy, he knew, he had no other option.

Seemed like none of her family members got informed because no one was there making her company. Peter felt even worse. Gulping, he took a step closer to her bed, she was sleeping. It gave him enough time to assess the damages he caused. She had butterfly closures on her forehead, her lips were chapped and her arm was in a cast resting on her stomach. Her face was resting on the pillow in a weird angle almost over her left shoulder.

The IV made a rhythmic noise with each drop, the monitors were checking her heart rate. Somehow seeing her like that made the guilt and worry grow, Peter wanted to fix this.

His eyes landed on a clipboard over a table at the feet of the bed. He grabbed it and checked every detail. Name y/n, heart skipped a beat, now her face had a name. You were a year younger than him, you had health insurance, well that was something good he could cross from the list of his doing wrongs.

No concussions, no internal bleeding, you had surgery on your broken arm, Peter winced, the radius broke in two and now you were half a robot with the pins and rods attaching your bone together. That definitely was not helping Peter feel better.

“Shit,” he mumbled, placing the clipboard back down. His hands were up to his head.

When his eyes found your face you were looking at him, with wide eyes and parted lips, Peter felt his soul leaving his body.

“Jesus fuck!” He gasped a hand on his chest. “You scared me,”

“I—um sorry? I’m, what… how did you get in?”

His hands went to his hips and shrugged. “Through the bathroom window.”

“Why?” you tried to reincorporate on the bed but whined when you moved your arm, like you forgot you had it in a cast.

“Because there was no other way to get in,”

“But there’s a door there,” you pointed with your head. “It’s easier,”

Peter furrowed, you were not able to see him. He sighed. “Yeah, I know that. But it’s the anonymity of the visit that I want to keep… anonymous.”

What was he saying now!

He shook his head. “Um, how are you feeling?”

You scoffed, Peter deserved that disdain. “Like shit, well not as bad because I’m on medication but still not great with a useless arm.”

The casted one got up as if to show him, he nodded. Taking a step closer, his hands grasped the plastic railing at the feet of the bed.

“I can imagine— I owe you an apology, I wasn’t feeling too well and it wasn’t my intention to hurt you… or anyone. I don’t do that, you know? Goes against the hero thing.”

Your eyes were shining either for the low lights coming from outside or because you were on very strong medications, Peter couldn’t tell, what he saw was a little smile on your lips.

“I suppose it’s not on the hero policy… It's fine Spider-Man, sir.”

Peter chuckled. “Spider-Man it’s fine, I’m not as old as you may think I am.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Really? I thought you were like thirty five or something.”

“Ouch, I… hmm no, no I—listen. I'm gonna tell you this because I think I owe you something so I’ll answer this one concern of yours, I'm around your age. So think twice before calling me old again, young lady.”

Now he saw a full smile blossom in your face, it made him feel better, a lightness finally reaching his sore shoulders.

“Um okay,” you laid deeper on your pillow, a smile still tugging at the corner of your lips.

Peter felt suddenly so overly conscious of his body and presence in front of you in a dark room, the darkness was helping but he felt your eyes on him as he paced around.

“Do you know how many days you are gonna be here?” he asked.

“I have no idea, I woke up surrounded by people, then I passed out when the nurse extended my arm and woke up like two hours ago to go pee and then fell asleep and then you were here.”

“That bad huh?” Peter crossed his arms as he leaned his back on the wall right in front of you.

“The pain was bad, but now it’s light. I do feel like I’m in a cloud when I don’t move.”

“That must be nice,” his back cracked unbidden.

“That, on the other hand, sounds bad… Are you better now? or why did you crash into me?”

Peter blinked, scratched his forehead and watched you, you looked tiny and sleepy.

“I got a bullet wound right here,” he touched his clavicle. “Lost blood and that’s when I accidentally crashed into you I was feeling dizzy, but yes I am better now.”

“I see… well, at least you are not in risk of losing your job,”

Peter straightened, a knot in his throat. “You lost your job? because of me?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, making his agony longer.

“Not really, just my weekly payment. My dad’s the owner so he wouldn't fire me, but still he didn’t even come see me, so” you shrugged. “you’re all good Spider-Man.”

“Hmm for what it’s worth I am truly sorry and I want to make it up to you, so if you need anything, really I am here for you.” Peter walked to your side, his hand lingered over your shoulder, debating himself if the touch would be too much.

“I don’t think I need anything, but thank you.” you were blinking more often, heavier.

“Are you sure?” his hand dropped by his side, forming a fist.

He wanted you to ask him a favor he wanted to feel useful, to prove to you he was good and not an asshole.

Your eyes grew big for a moment. “Wait, there is something… but I don’t think it’s safe,”

Peter clasped his hands together. “I’ll do it, what is it? I mean I’m Spider-Man, if something is not safe I am your guy, I do unsafe things for free all the time.”

“Hmm… right, okay yeah. I mean it’s not safe for me but why not, what else could happen to me, right?”

You laughed, Peter grimaced, fair enough.

“My dog, I have a little dog and he hasn’t been fed since I left this morning so… I mean if you don’t have any crime to fight right now, would you feed him?”

And his heart melted, maybe because you looked very worried and the way you were observing him made his chest flutter.

“Yeah, of course. I love dogs, I can do that, easy peasy. You got it!”

You grinned at him, teeth and sparkly eyes, Peter felt weird.

He let you explain how much food he had to put on his plate, and to refill his water bowl as well, to not step on his little grass square where he peed and to leave the window just ajar for the air to circulate.

And at the end you gave him your address, hesitation still on your voice, but Peter promised you he was going in and out fast.

“I’ll check on you later okay?” Spider-Man said, as he walked to the bathroom.

You nodded, giving him a lipped smile. “You can use the door,”

“Nah, not my style… see ya later y/n.”

Peter struggled to get out, it wasn’t as easy as getting in. He considered using the door next time.

Your apartment was small, not too small but it wasn’t big as in rich family kind of big. But it was small as in cozy. Your dog, Percy, was barking at him as he entered through your room’s window. It smelled like coconut, he sighed.

When he opened the door to reveal the hall leading to the living room, Percy jumped at his legs, looking at him with curiosity, and the barking resumed. Peter started petting him on his tiny head and as soon as Peter reached his bag of food, Percy sat at his feet.

“Oh good boy!” He scratched tiny Percy on the back of his ear. “Okay, Percy, show me your bowl…”

It surprised Peter to see Percy run from the kitchen to the spot dedicated to the little Yorkiepoo, two bowls rested side by side on a corner as his bed was placed right beside the largest couch in the room. Toys were scattered around and Peter smiled.

“Okay so your kind owner said half a cup and two treats, right?” Percy tilted his head, Peter laughed. “You are too cute”

The bowls got filled with the respective things and as Percy ate throwing Spider-Man curious looks, Peter roamed around the room. His mask forgotten on the couch. You were messy but not too messy, your apartment was clean and you had flowers everywhere. A big vase of daisies in your bedroom. Another one with lavender carnations and purple monte casinos, it made your house smell fresh. He watched a photo of you with friends and he noticed how different you looked, dressed up in casual clothes, hair brushed and yes, without a cast on the arm.

You were pretty, he noticed, how your hair fell over your shoulders and your eyes were big and sparkly. Maybe your eyes were always shining.

A bark took him out of the trance, Percy was at his feet again looking up to him. Peter squatted down and patted the dog, until the latter laid on his back showing Peter his chubby belly.

“You want me to scratch your belly? Okay, but just once because I have to go, still need to go buy some stuff you know? I need to fight bad guys and do groceries, not like you!” he kept on scratching until Percy moved his back legs as if he wanted to scratch himself. “Look at you, living your best life.”

With a sigh, Peter stood up. Ready to go back to his life, this has been a nice way to stop for a second but for him there were not many breaks.

A flick of a wrist, the window slid open a little, he gathered his web with his hand so Percy wouldn’t eat it, put his mask on and jumped off the balcony window.

Spider-Man had a busy night, some guys robbed a few trucks with chemicals inside that ended with an explosion on a dock. He felt a bruise forming on his back and arms, but he managed to get out of there, leaving the robbers webbed onto a wall of a building, the police and the firemen arrived in time for him to take a minute to recover from the smoke and the harsh hits his body received.

He filled in the police with the information and as the sun emerged, the warm sun beams calmed the pain and the coolness of his bones as he made his way back to the hospital.

Spider-Man was not in condition to sneak in through the smallest window in the room, so he entered through the emergency exit and took the elevator. People threw him furtive looks, a kid hugging his mom’s arm had his eyes glued to him, so he did what any other person would do, Peter waved at him and the kid beamed. With excuses and hand gestures Peter sighed, exiting the elevator, no nurses were around but once he entered your room, he got surprised by the one nurse who had received you a day before.

“Oh mister Spider-Man, good to see you.” She smiled at him and Peter saluted her as she made her way to the door. “She is ready to go,” she winked at him and Peter knitted his brows together.

His eyes landed on you, gathering your stuff in a tote bag as best as you could, your left arm was not as trained as the right, he noticed.

“Hey!” he said, waving at you.

You nodded. “Would you help me?”

“Sure,” Peter opened the bag and you literally threw everything in.

“Thanks… how was your night?” you asked, dark circles around your eyes.

Peter shrugged, regretting it instantly as his muscles complained. “Nothing out of the ordinary. What about you?”

You sat down on the bed. “I feel weird, but okay I guess.”

“Are you walking home?”

“Nope, got to go see how work is doing and then I’ll go home.”

Peter nodded, well… this must be it then. “Percy is a cute dog, very well behaved.”

It made you smile, hence Peter did so too. “He is… thank you by the way, for checking on him and for coming by too. You didn’t have to but you did anyway.”

Peter felt a flush and warmth coming for his cheeks. “Nah, it’s nothing. As I said I owed you so it was the least I could do, really. I’m glad you are okay, sorry for the arm though.”

Peter smiled even if you couldn’t see.

“Well, it was fun to see the famous Spider-Man up close. No offense but hope this is the last time,”

“Ouch, no, yeah I get it, hope that too. Don’t get in trouble, okay?”

“You got it spidey.”

You looked at your feet and the whole mood in the room felt weird, so Peter knew this was his cue.

“I’m gonna go now, need a bit of rest after a long night. See you… well… yeah whatever, bye y/n.”

He heard you chuckle, Peter shook his head feeling a bit dumb, closing the door at his back he made his way out the hospital.

When he got back to May's, he came to the realization that he didn’t buy the bread nor the milk, May made sure to remind him.

“PETER!”

“I’m on it, May! Sorry!”

•••

Peter was late for his date, his date with Gwen. He fell asleep on the subway and now he had to swing all the way back to get her weekly bouquet.

The place where he always bought flowers was closed, mumbling obscenities as he crossed the street.

How funny was that only half a block down another flower shop was open.

He bought flowers only for Gwen and for May’s birthday, so he didn’t know much about them other than the classic red roses for his aunt and the colorful daisies for Gwen. His jaw almost hit the floor seeing the flowers on display, buckets of color and the smell so fresh and so sweet and so magical.

After a second of admiring the shop he went to the desk where a guy was wrapping pink roses for a woman. He gave him a lipped smile which Peter replied with a nod.

“How much for a small bouquet of daisies?”

The guy waved to the woman and put all his attention on Peter. “What kind?”

“Um.. normal? I don’t know.”

The guy looked at him funny. “We have pink daisies, african, chicory, fire wheel, gerberas, japanese…”

“Just the cheapest bouquet you can give me.”

Peter was late and he was not in the mood to know the kinds of flowers. He also forgot his wallet and now he had like ten dollars to survive the day.

“Okay…” the guy shook his head. “Y/n,”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat.

Suddenly you appeared from a door he hadn't noticed until now, cast still on, but you looked healthier.

“What?!”

“Price for a bouquet of daisies…”

“What kind?” you sounded exasperated.

“Cheap,” the guy said in a tone that made Peter want to roll his eyes.

You squinted at the guy and Peter almost laughed. “Umm… eight dollars.” You finally looked at Peter.

Peter felt naked without the mask, and even if it was a crazy idea that he would deny later on the day, he, deep inside, was hoping you’d recognize him.

“Uh, um yeah that’s okay.” Peter spoke, a little choked.

“What colors do you want?” you asked him.

“All of them?”

It made you smile. “Nice.”

And you disappeared through the door, Peter let out the trapped air in his lungs.

The guy was just staring at him weirdly. “cash or card?”

“Cash,”

“Of course.”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows, offended. “Whatever man, I don’t want anything, thanks.”

Peter came out of the store mad, upset, shocked and disappointed. Crossing the street he tried to look for another flower shop. He didn't care he was late anymore, Gwen was a priority and he shouldn’t feel this shitty prior to his date.

“Hey, hey… dude..”

He heard and looked over his shoulder, you were running towards him, a bouquet in hand, cheeks red and no coat on. Were you crazy or what?

Peter stopped and waved his hands to stop you.

“You forgot your flowers!” you said, a hue of vapor came out of your lips.

“I didn't pay for them,”

“I know,” you looked embarrassed. “Sorry about Jerry, he's a little bitch, here take them! They’re on the house.”

Peter’s eyes went from your eyes to the happy perky daisies on your hand.

“I will follow you around until you take them.” You grinned. “Go on.”

Peter with a little smirk on her lips, sighed. “Just because you have no coat on and it’s freezing… Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure, have a nice day.”

Your smile made him feel funny inside. “Yeah you too.”

Pivoting on your post you made your way back, Peter stood there perched, waiting for you to get inside the shop again, his cheeks went fully red when you looked back at him and smiled.

“No,” he simply said, shaking his head making his way to see Gwen.

Part 2 - Part 3

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