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flowerandblood · 6 months

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The Man in the Death Cloak

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, public sex, fingering, smut, angst, violence, overstimulation, description of murder ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his ‘ghosts’, a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, very dark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard Lady Walford Moodboard Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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When he saw her among the crowd of masked figures dancing with this strange man, when he noticed his hand shamelessly placed on her naked back, when he noticed that they were conversing with each other between turns, flirting with each other, he thought at first that he would kill them both.

However, he changed his mind when he saw how, as soon as the music stopped, she left this brazen man, like a cruel, beautiful goddess laughing at his pathetic efforts, without even turning to look at him again, heading towards one of the tables.

He felt his manhood throb painfully hard in his breeches at the thought that she had done this to provoke him, that by the thought of him looking at them and what he would do to her she was already soaking wet.

He decided to find out, approaching her slowly between the chatting people, another dance began and the music echoed around him. He stepped behind her, grabbing the jug she was struggling to lift and filled the cup she held in her other hand halfway.

"Are you enjoying yourself, my Lady?" He asked lowly, trying to control himself and not think about the fact that he would gladly fuck her from behind on the table in front of him, taking what was due to him as king and husband.

"Yes, my Lord." She whispered softly, sweetly, her voice trembling slightly. He felt the way she said the words in his cock, which was twitching all over with impatience, he knew she recognised him.

"Dance with me."

She turned over her shoulder and looked at him, her lips parted in disbelief when she noticed that he was clad just like her father's guards, just like when she had met him for the first time. A smirk of satisfaction appeared on his face when he noticed in her dreamy eyes what he had suspected for some time.

She was so fucking wet.

Spinning with her among the couples, holding her shamelessly close to him, admiring her almost defiant gown exposing her naked body, her shoulders and back, everything that belonged to him, all he could think about was that he will fuck her in front of everyone.

She welcomed him inside her with ease, his cock sliding in and out of her with the sticky slap of naked flesh against flesh, her walls soaking wet − he could see that his manhood was all glistening and moist every time he slipped out of her.

He rooted into her with groans of pleasure, holding her by her throat, thrusts of his hips again and again stretching her tight, hot core, his place on earth, a delight meant only for him.

He glanced sideways, at the man standing in the distance againt the wall, at the fool who dared to dream of his wife, and was taken aback to see his hand slipped into his breeches, his gaze directed at her. His cock throbbed hard at the thought that he dared to imagine he was in his place, that he was fucking his wife.

"− look at him − he's fucking himself with his hand while looking at my wife − at my − fucking − wife −" He breathed out into her ear, thrusting into her in a frenzy of anger and pleasure, feeling her muscles begin to squeeze and suck him deep inside her.

He knew she was close, that she was about to come and completely soak his cock − he was twitching inside her with his every desperate, rough thrust.

"− you know he's already dead, don't you? − ah − would you want him to touch you before he died? − for him to root his cock deep inside you just for once? −"

"− n-no − your seed − I want it inside me −" She mumbled with her lips parted wide, panting and moaning with difficulty along with him, her eyes clenched shut. He thought with amusement and relief that she completely didn't care what the man did or wanted, that she only craved him, faithfully begging for his seed as any obedient wife should.

He felt a powerful shudder run through his body as her flesh shook with fulfilment, her walls clenching around him − he came inside her at last, filling her with himself, his face pressed against her hair, taking in her wonderful, familiar scent, her body trembling in his hands.

He released her and slid out of her with a loud splat of his cock against his lower abdomen, all wet from her moisture, his spend mingled with her wetness running down her thighs.

He covered this wonderful, ungodly sight with her gown, recognising with calmness that he was the only one who had a right to look at it, tied his breeches and then moved off disappearing into the crowd, leaving her alone.

He had all night to take care of her and explain to her exactly what he thought of it all.

The man he was hunting was just tying his breeches, wiping his hands in them, apparently wet with his seed − when he noticed him out of the corner of his eye he began to run away as if he had seen a ghost.

He felt like laughing at the sight, amused, taking his dagger, which he always carried with him, out from under his cloak, thinking that he was a mere deviant and coward, that he must keep her wife safe so that he would never worry her with his presence again.

He thought she would be grateful to him for this.

Before he killed him in one of the empty, dark corridors of the fortress, with only the rays of the night moon falling into it, he pulled off his mask and hood, wanting him to know who would take his life.

"− m-my King, I beg you − if I only knew, I would never −" The man mumbled, kneeling before him, shaking all over − he recognised in him up close one of his guards enjoying entertaining himself with female servants instead of concentrating on his work.

"− you touched my wife − you touched yourself watching me take her − painless death is too mild a punishment −" He said softly and calmly, playing with his dagger between his fingers, his blade flashing again and again in the starlight.

"− I beg you, my King, have mercy, send me away from the fortress, just don't kill me − I beg you, I will never look at someone's wife again, I will go to the monastery, I promise, please −" He exclaimed folding his hands as if to pray, as if to make him believe that now he would change, that from this moment on he would never again look at a woman who belonged to someone else.

In one swift, sure movement he slit his throat − his blood gushed onto him, soiling his coat and hands. He caught himself instantly by the neck, falling to the floor, coughing loudly, trying to catch his breath, a gurgling sound came from his mouth.

He grabbed him by his hair forcing him to look at him, and then stab after stab pierced his heart with his blade, slamming his dagger into his flesh like mad, thinking that if thoughts of his wife filled it, he had to destroy it and tear it to pieces.

"− only I have the right to want her − only I have the right to touch her − only I have the right to love her −" He growled in rage, after another stab of the blade the man's eyes rolled back, a huge pool of his blood surrounding them. He let go of him at last, his body fell with a thud to the floor, dead.

He wiped his dagger into his cloak and hid it, breathing loudly through his mouth, mouthful of the sight. He hummed quietly and stepped over him, heading towards his chamber, knowing that she was waiting for him there, bare and wet, that she would fuck him all night once he told her what he had done.

He held her by her hair, pressing her cheek against his bed as he pounded into her brutally from behind, their naked bodies slapping against each other loudly. She moaned and whimpered beneath him, after her third fulfilment completely losing touch with reality, their bodies sweaty from the exertion, his cock soaking wet from his spend and her moisture.

"− what is it? − my little wife has had enough? −" He sneered, speeding up, his other hand firmly squeezing her waist, rooting his cock into her with sure, rough, deep movements of his hips.

"− I − p-please − mghmm −" She mumbled wearily, her lips parted sweetly in a gesture of complete submission, her muscles clenching tightly against his and sucking him wonderfully at his words, his fat cock twitching hard inside her, close to the next fulfilment.

"− for what you've done I should pierce you through with my cock tonight − like I pierced the heart of that fucking bastard with my dagger − again, again and again −" He hissed, speeding up his pace, thrusting deeper into her with each of his words, their bodies slamming against each other faster and faster. She squirmed in protest clenching her hands on the bedding, her thighs quivering from overstimulation in his hand as he opened her weeping cunt on his cock.

"− no − fucking take it −" He growled low clenching his teeth not letting her escape − he heard her whine of pain and pleasure, another devastating orgasm shook her body, her core began to squeeze him from all sides. He sighed loudly and and threw his head back, closing his eye, coming inside her at last, panting hard.

"− that's it − just like that −" He cooed, delighted that as he rocked his hips inside her, little streams of his seed flowed out of her − she was so filled with him that it was leaking out of her.

He slid out of her with a sigh of satisfaction and tightened his fingers on her warm slit at once, not letting a drop of his spend go to waste.

It was all going to stay deep inside her and take root there, his legacy and proof that she belonged to him, to her husband.

He lay behind her with her on his side, still holding his hand between her thighs, the other stroking her hair, trying to soothe her, her whole body trembling in convulsions, her fingers tightening on his shoulder, needing his closeness and tenderness.

"− it's all right now − your King has forgiven you − forgiven you and filled you as any loving husband should do − hm? −" He hummed, placing loud, hot, moist kisses on her bare neck and shoulders, and she nodded, her hand sliding into his, pressing his fingers tighter against her womanhood.

"− I want it all inside me, husband −" She whispered fondly and he felt a wonderful thrill of satisfaction, licking his lips dried from exertion and emotion, swallowing loudly.

"− fear not, my dearest − your husband will make sure that nothing flows out of you −"

They fell asleep in the tender, tight embrace of each other's bodies, their legs and hands entwined, his cheek nestled against her hair.

He slept wonderfully peacefully that night.

It was also because the sarcophagus for his family in the vaults of the temple in which he was crowned, and under which his great ancestors lay, had finally been completed.

Lord Walford had buried his family in a mass grave beneath the keep − they had searched for their bodies for months, but without success. When he had almost given up hope, one of the servants reported an unpleasant smell coming from one of the kitchen cellars.

They had been buried without appropriate respect and he felt relieved to give their souls and their memory proper honour.

He rode on horseback in front of the gathered crowds behind a long procession of coffins amidst a chorus of monks, at once sombre and hopeful, at the very front on an ornate cart lay his father's coffin, followed by those of his mother, Aegon, Helaena and Daeron.

He rode behind them through the streets of the city − apart from the chanting of the monks there was complete silence, the folk looking at them with some kind of reverence, shouting his and his wife's name, calling them just.

He thought, as he followed them on their last journey, that when they were properly buried he would at last have peace, and they could be saved, no longer suffering any humiliation or pain.

They would be free.

He felt shame as his throat tightened at the thought, tears squeezed into his eye, his crown uncomfortable and heavy, weighing down on his head more than ever.

He was consoled by the snow lying around them; he had a feeling that the world was telling everyone in this way that their souls were pure, that the heavens were rejoicing with them today.

In front of the temple he dismounted from his horse, glancing at his wife who had settled down beside him, both of them shivering from the cold, knowing that there were still hours of service ahead of them.

She nodded at him indicating that she was ready, and he felt proud at the thought that, as always, she had stood by his side, witnessing the weakness that others had failed to see in his gaze, not allowing him to fall, to pull down his mask before those who might use it.

He prayed fervently, trying not to think like the others about the cold and the chill, his breath turning to steam in this gigantic stone temple, stopping from foot to foot, trying to warm himself in this way, thinking about what the priest was saying.

When at last it was all over, and coffin after coffin had been brought down to the proper sarcophaguses and enclosed in them, he closed his eyes and breathed loudly, feeling the enormous weight fall from his shoulders, he had the sensation of suddenly becoming astonishingly light.

He returned their reverence and honour.

By the time they returned to the fortress it was already dusk; when his wife informed him that she was tired and would go to bed already he simply nodded, massaging his temple, gazing thoughtfully into the flames, feeling still preoccupied by what had happened.

When he finally joined her bare, embracing her from behind he immediately sensed that something was wrong. She lay dressed in a thick nightgown, her body strangely inflamed and hot, and he had the feeling that she was trembling − he swallowed loudly touching his hand to her forehead, feeling his heart pounding like mad.

She had a fever.

"My love?" He whispered in a trembling voice, gently shaking her, looking at her terrified. "My love, wake up."

He heard her quiet, faint muttering; she tried to open her eyes but her eyelids immediately closed − she began to breathe through her mouth, her body quivering in his embrace, all aflame.

"I'm cold." She mumbled softly. He pressed his lips together, got up from their bed, quickly put on his nightshirt and breeches and opened the door, ordering the guards to summon a medic immediately.

A man entered his chamber after a few minutes − he was the same monk who had treated his wound when he was brought to their monastery as a child.

"She has a fever and is shivering all over." He told him, approaching the bed with him, trying to sound calm, − his voice broke at the end of the sentence, betraying his grief and desperation, his throat squeezed so tightly that he could not breathe.

It was only when his servants lit all the candles in his chamber and added fire to the hearth that he noticed how pale she was, her lips blue, her face flushed with sweat. The medic ordered her servants to be summoned to find out if anything had happened, at the same time placing cool cloths on her forehead.

"Has the Queen complained of anything, been troubled by any discomfort?" The old man asked, rolling up the long sleeves of his worn, old robe.

One of the girls swallowed loudly, looking at them with fear.

"The Queen came back frozen from the temple. She didn't have a coat or gown suitably thick for the weather, suitable for such a ceremony. The decision to perform the funeral was made suddenly and the dressmakers did not have time to sew a new garment for her." She mumbled out in a trembling voice, playing with her fingers, and he looked at her in disbelief.

He had made his decision as soon as his parents' bodies had been discovered, he hadn't considered what she thought about it and whether she needed to prepare for it, whether she had the strength to stand for several hours in the cold, whether she felt unwell and wanted to return to the fortress or hide for a while in the warm chambers of the monks.

He had completely forgotten about her, immersed in thoughts of his family, of those who had passed away, and now she was shivering with fever in his bed. He felt rage begin to boil inside him and licked his lower lip, breathing loudly.

"You let her go out inappropriately dressed?" He hissed, her servants looked at each other horrified, fearing that his reaction would end in death for them.

"Your Grace, we begged her, but she said she was choosing this gown and this cloak, that she would not bring shame to the King, that she must look proper on such an important day, we could not force her." Muttered the other one.

"You fucking fools! I'll hang each of you in turn as soon as…"

"− my King −" He heard her faint, quiet whisper, and looked at her − her eyes half-open, staring at him, her lips slightly parted in effort, her long black curls spread in disarray around her head.

He completely lost interest in his rage and what he was saying to them, approaching her quickly, sitting down beside her on their bed, grasping her hot hand in his.

"− I'm so cold − yet at the same time my body seems to be on fire −" She whispered with difficulty, as if each word she spoke cost her a great deal of effort.

"− you have a fever, my love − brother Albert will prepare a decoction at once, which you will have to drink − rest now −" He said tenderly, stroking her inflamed cheek, wet with sweat, and heard her sigh softly, hugging her face to his hand.

A moment later, her mother walked into the chamber, a long blue robe hurriedly put on over her nightgown, her hair tied in a long braid, her eyes wide, terrified.

"− my beloved child −" She whispered running over to her bed, sitting down across from him, stroking her hair.

They ordered the servants to leave − only he, her mother and brother Albert, who was preparing the medicine on his table, remained inside. He watched in thoughtfulness as her mother tenderly and carefully placed on her forehead and chest the cold cloths, previously soaked in the snow she kept in a basin on her lap, brought by the servants over and over again.

He turned impatiently, looking at the monk, who did not seem to be in a hurry despite the fact that every second was precious.

"− how much longer? −" He asked roughly, the man, however, seemed not at all bothered by his warning tone.

"The onions need to release their juices after being sprinkled with sugar, it takes a while. I also brew a tea of lime leaves, chaste and sage, and add a little garlic, honey, pepper, lemon and ginger. It is necessary to support her body from within, to burn out the plague that has taken hold of her body. A fever is a sign of struggle." He said calmly, squeezing a garlic clove with the side of the knife blade, crushing it into a mush, dropping it then into the cup.

After a few minutes he added the rest of the ingredients and stirred it thoroughly − that smell of it all was foreign and unpleasant, but he trusted him and prayed that it would work.

Brother Albert approached their bed and ordered her mother to help her up to a sitting position so that she would not choke.

"− the Queen must drink this immediately −" He said calmly − her mother took the cup from him, with his help lifting her weakened body higher on the pillows, putting the cup to her lips. She lifted her eyelids slightly, semi-conscious, breathing with difficulty.

"− drink, my sweet child, it will help you −" She said warmly, tipping the contents of the goblet. She took a hard sip and began to cough, shaking her head, shuddering all over, moving away.

He pressed his lips together, breathing hard, furious.

"Leave us alone. Both of you." He said coldly, her mother looking at him in shock.

"I will not leave my child."

"Get out, woman."

She swallowed loudly hearing his tone of voice and stood up slowly, telling him to change the clod cloths every few minutes, handing him the cup in her hand, disappearing after a moment with the monk behind the door.

He sat down next to his wife and squeezed her cheeks in his free hand, forcing her to open her mouth.

"Drink, or I swear I'll force it down your throat." He growled, putting the goblet to her lips. She shook her head, flinching at the smell alone, close to tears, her vision clouded.

"− please −" She whined out like a small, terrified child − he wasn't sure she knew where she was or what was happening to her.

However, he was unable to sympathise with her or express his understanding; all he could think about was that he was terrified, that if anything happened to her he would fall into complete madness and kill everyone around him, including himself.

"− drink − that's an order − you are to obey your King and husband −" He said in a cold, impatient voice, tilting the goblet and holding her tightly so that she couldn't break free even though she tried. She began to swallow it loudly, tears trickled from her eyes down her cheeks, a quiver of terror and disgust came from her throat.

"− just like that − just a little bit more − my good, obedient wife −" He gasped as he tilted the cup all the way down and the last drops spilled out − she cried out loudly as he let go of her cheeks, turning her face away from him, trembling and despairing.

"− shhh, my sweetest − I know −" He hushed her, applying to her forehead the ice-cold piece of cloth he had sunk earlier into the bowl of already melted snow, her whole body quivering.

He covered her tightly with the furs, slipping under them beside her, wanting to warm her with his own body as well, and embraced her, nuzzling her hot cheek into his chest. He swallowed loudly feeling her tremble all over, breathing hard through her mouth, knowing he wouldn't be able to get a wink of sleep that night.

"− am I dying? −" She asked quietly in a shaking, terrified voice.

He felt a tightness in his throat at her question, leaned in and kissed the top of her head with tenderness, with devotion, with love.

"I am Death itself, my sweet wife −" He whispered low, at the same time with warm affection and dark coolness, stroking her hair with his hand. "− and I assure you that you will not leave this world before me."

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Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

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nonclassyparty · 4 months

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tins without labels - prologue (j.wy)

summary: Jung Wooyoung's life was always somehow intertwined with your own. from living in the same neighbourhood as kids to attending the same college; fights, bickering, bruises, teasing comments and tears. Wooyoung and you were never complete strangers but never friends either. Always somewhere in between, growing up with each other but never actually knowing one another. The relationship takes a confusing turn in your third year of college after an injury that places your football career on hold. Lonely, lost and confused, you find yourself at your first college party in the presence of none other than Jung Wooyoung asking him to show you what exactly have you been missing out on. playlist // my main masterlist // moodboard (tba) // click to donate to Palestine

pairing: jung wooyoung x reader warnings: none for this chapter i think! word count: 9.3k taglist: just reply or inbox me if u'd like to be added c: a/n: pls don't say damn when u see that i started another story. listen LISTEEEEEN. i know what u all will say..."bree should u rly be starting another series when u havent finished or started the 4757 bajillion ones that u already posted?" the answer is YES. let me explain myself briefly, this summer has been rly hard for me bc i lost someone who was incredibly important to me and i just can't write...i just can't! everything looks like shit!!! im halfway done with soot and something just isn't letting me continue. i can't write pretty on the outside or literally anything else i've started bc its all simply too sad. writing is draining to begin with despite how much i love and enjoy it but writing angst is k wording my mental health lol! so....i present to you this series, mostly dedicated to myself literally no one asked for this, i just feel like its something i need to write and always wanted to so here i go! it will be a little heartwarming series with lots of humor and coming of age shenanigans and huge chunks of it written from personal experience and i hope u guys read it and like it. i had a lot of fun writing this prologue. (p.s. i literally know jackshit about football/soccer so if by some chance someone that reads this knows their football shit....just let it go pls lmfaoo)

(prologue; when we were kids)

and I couldn't find the words, i couldn't think of what to say and all that I can do is stop and think about the days when all we used to dream about was meeting after school

6 and 8 years old;

Your mom helped you build the snowman.

An entire morning of running around your front yard, laughing and playing in the freshly fallen snow, seeing the air you breathe out in front of you that you pretended was cigarette smoke to make your mom laugh as the cold nipped at your cheeks.

The snowman was almost twice your size (which wasn't a lot, you were a fairly small child) with pebbles stuck in as his eyes and teeth pulled up in a big grin. Your mom found a small bucket in the old shed behind the house which she placed on his head as a makeshift hat and because you didn't have any carrots, there was a small twig stuck at the center of the snowman's face to serve as a long crooked nose.

(The snowman didn't have any arms, a detail that went over your head at the time.)

After admiring the big statue in the farther corner of your front yard for awhile, you finally retreated into the house with your socks wet along with the majority of your hot pink snowsuit. As you kicked off the damp clothes and exchanged them for warm, dry ones and fuzzy socks and then settled in front of the TV in the toasty living room with a mug of cocoa - you couldn't help but feel that it was a happy day.

Which is why when, in the late afternoon, once you looked out of your window to see what once used to be your snowman is now nothing but a big pile of disheveled snow with his plastic hat rolling around the sidewalk and two boys running away down the street with shrill laughter echoing after them, you simply couldn't help but burst into tears.

"Mommy!" You screamed out, running outside your front door in fuzzy socks and your sweater, as dramatic as you were. But you were six and your life still ended and began with coloring books and favorite toys, so a snowman that you made with your mom getting destroyed, surely felt like the end of the world.

Once your mom stepped out after you, about to scold you for walking outside into the cold air with no jacket on, you burst into crocodile tears as you pointed to the spot where your snowman once stood.

"Oh, no." She breathed out with a sigh before grabbing her jacket and slipping into whatever shoes were available by the door (they were your dad's old tennis shoes) and walking across the front yard to collect the small bucket from the sidewalk.

All you could do was stand and watch as you wailed so loudly after your snowman that the entire neighbourhood could hear.

"Honey, it's okay." Your mom tried to soothe you as she walked up the steps to your house, carrying what used to be the snowman's hat. "It's just a snowman, we'll make another one tomorrow!"

But you were inconsolable, bursting out in another wave of loud cries as you stomped your tiny foot and pointed to the house across the street.

"They ruined it! W-Wooyoung ruined it!" You sob, waving towards the boy's house with all the anger a six year old could possibly muster. You knew it was him, recognizing the ugly red jacket he wore this entire winter and his even uglier looking friend, Chanwook.

You weren't friends with Wooyoung. He was older than you and all of his friends were mean. You once tried to play with them when you first moved to the neighbourhood but they didn't want to play with a girl. You cried about that too.

They often teased you. Wooyoung said your crooked teeth made you look ugly!

She sighs again, "And that was very mean of him. But, Y/N, we'll just make another snowman tomorrow."

"But-" You start again, tears still sliding down your face.

"We'll build him in the backyard where we have a fence, so no-one will be able to touch him." She offers with a smile, hoping you'll finally be consoled enough to walk inside and be safe from the harsh cold.

"But I won't be able to look at him from the window." You tell her quietly, voice going hoarse from the crying and bottom lip already wobbling as another wave of tears began to sunk in. She gives you a sympathetic smile.

"We'll get him a prettier hat and we'll use two long branches to give him arms!" Your mom offers again, trying to butter you up so the tears would stop. "We'll get a carrot for his nose and big pretty rocks for his eyes!" Once she realized it was working, she continued; "And we'll take a picture of you with him so you'll always get to look at him, even when he melts away!"

You peer up at her with a hiccup, finally bribed enough; "A picture?"

She nods, holding the door wider for you to finally walk inside as you inch towards the door, fuzzy socks now soaked, "A picture. We'll send your dad to the mall to develop them."

So, you finally walk inside the warm house again, changing your socks and immediately going to your father's home office to pester him about the camera and just how long will it take for a picture to be developed.

"-Y/N, we'll just make another snowman tomorrow!"

Wooyoung heard your mom tell you as he peers at the exchange from across the street, through his bedroom window, freshly changed into dry clothes after a long hard day of playing outside with Chanwook and now, warming his frozen hands on the radiator.

When Wooyoung saw the snowman parked in the corner of your front yard, just a step away from the sidewalk, he and Chanwook thought it would be funny to ruin it.

The thing was ugly and had an even uglier bucket at the top of it's head, perfect to kick around the street!

He didn't think too much about it, if he was honest. Just saw a big lump of snow he wanted to kick at until it collapsed, so that's what Wooyoung did. It was just a silly snowman.

Besides, you were already six years old. Far too old to be making a stupid snowman. You should've been going sledding with the rest of the neighborhood kids on the small hill just a couple of minutes away from your street. Wooyoung was mature now, so his mom allowed him to go without a chaperone this year. You were always so childish, no wonder your mom didn't let you go with them. You cried over everything.

But he didn't expect you to cry over the stupid snowman!

It was just a snowman. It would've melted anyway when the weather got warmer! Or gotten ruined by someone else!

The brief fear of your mom telling Wooyoung's mom about what he'd done struck him. He'd positively get grounded for ruining your dumb snowman if she found out and then the rest of his winter break would be spent inside of the house.

You could always make another snowman. A better one. And since you're such a crybaby, Wooyoung would make sure to tell Chanwook that they won't be touching that one. Leave that ugly snowman alone.

Just so you wouldn't cry anymore.

10 and 12 years old;

"It's a shame your mother is dead, maybe if she was still around she would teach you how to act like a girl!"

Your face flushed in anger as you stared the other boy, Beomseok, his chubby fingers still wrapped around your pencil case which was how the argument started in the first place.

He was in the same class as you and a typical bully. Bigger than the rest of his peers and always using it to his advantage to intimidate and tease them. Today, he took your pencil case and when you asked for him to give it back, he only gave you a gnarly smile and started running around the classroom and eventually out on the halls, screaming taunts at you. It would be a lie to say that you didn't scream some pretty mean stuff back but in your defense, he deserved it.

Now, you both stood as if you're ready to duel as the rest of your classmates and even some upperclassmen gathered to see what the commotion is all about, your fury rising so high that tears spring in your eyes at the mention of your mom as you observe his smug smirk. Obviously, from a very young age, you were bad at managing your anger.

"I hate you!" You scream out, voice high pitched. Then you jump on Beomseok with your full weight, successfully pulling him to the hard hallway floors as your hands curled into tiny fists that started colliding with his face.

And Beomseok, for all his intimidating build, talked an awfully big game just to end up bursting into tears as your fist collided with his nose. He was bad at fighting, you notice, if he could be beat up by a lanky girl almost two times smaller than him.

"I just-" Punch. "-wanted-" Punch. "-my pencil case-" A slap. "-back!"

"Somebody help!" He screams from under you, whining under each attack but his classmates were too busy cheering you on to come to his defense.

Once you start harshly pulling on his hair, two arms wrap themselves under your armpits and pull you off of your classmate. You're standing again and are turned by your shoulders to come face to face with your teacher, screaming at you.

"Is this a proper behavior in school?!" and lots of "Your father will hear about this!"'s and "You're going to the principle's office!" as she started pulling you by your arm down the corridor that was still filled with students.

"Everyone to your classrooms! Now!" Your teacher screams from the top of her lungs as she tugs on you and you follow after her with a frown on your face.

Stupid Beomseok.

Wooyoung's stomach hurts from laughing, clapping Chanwook's shoulder who was almost sitting on the floor due to his own fit of pure glee, as he watches Kim Beomseok roll around the floor in pain, clutching his nose.

There's scratches and bruises already forming on his cheeks, little bit of blood mixed with a lot of big, fat tears. It's hard to feel even slightly bad for Beomseok, when Wooyoung heard how he torments his classmates along with the younger kids during recess. Did it count as bullying if the bully is the one getting bullied?

Maybe he finally got what was coming for him, nobody usually stood up to him and Wooyoung least expected you to be the one to put him in his place.

He deserved it, Wooyoung thinks, after what he said about your mom.

Wooyoung remembers her funeral three years ago, he remembers how much you cried and how you didn't leave your house for a month that summer. He even rung the doorbell to ask if you wanted to come out and play one time which he never did because you were a child and he was much more mature than you, you two had nothing in common. But he felt sad for you.

Your mom was nice, she always brought Wooyoung a chocolate when she'd come for a visit.

Sadly, they discovered she had cancer when you were only seven and Wooyoung was nine. By the time they discovered it, it was already too far along and your mom passed away on a summer evening while you were outside playing hide and seek.

Wooyoung remembers feeling so bad how they always made you the seeker that day because you were the youngest kid in the neighbourhood and far too easy to convince that it was simply always your turn to look for the other kids.

Your dad opened the door, smiling sadly at Wooyoung and saying that you weren't feeling well enough to come out and play. Wooyoung didn't try again after that.

The teacher is pulling you by your elbow through the crowd, yelling at the top of her lungs for everyone to head to their classrooms since class should start in a couple of minutes. You silently follow her, face twisted into an angry grimace.

Your hair has fallen out of your ponytail, long strands sticking to your face and Wooyoung is pretty sure that your shirt got ripped during the brawl.

Wooyoung might've been laughing a bit too loudly because with angry eyes and cheeks flushed, your head whips towards him just as you pass by him.

Wooyoung opens his mouth with a smile, to say something like "Good job, Y/L!" maybe. He doesn't get the chance to.

"What are you laughing at, Jung?" You ask loudly and Wooyoung's laughter immediately dies down.

"Wha-?"

And it's then, that your foot meets Wooyoung's shin in a harsh kick that makes him yowl in pain and makes Chanwook burst into another wave of laughter as his hands grab at Wooyoung who doubles over in pain.

"Y/N!" The teacher screams out again, pulling you back by your shirt and going on another rant, filled with threats of calling your dad to school and something else he can't process at the moment.

Wooyoung is too busy feeling the pain and anger that fills him up as he rubs at the place your sneaker covered foot meet his leg.

"Y/N, you psycho!" He yells after you who is still getting dragged away. You don't even bother to look back at him.

(He still collects your pencil case from the floor and throws it on a desk that a classmate of yours says belongs to you before exiting the classroom and going to his own. Wooyoung tells himself it's for no other reason but just so your dad won't have to buy you a new one. He has enough on his plate already.)

14 and 16 years old;

Wooyoung has a girlfriend.

You don't know why that's something that bothers you so much.

Maybe because you don't understand what a girl could possibly see in Jung Wooyoung to willingly let him hold her hand or...God forbid, kiss her. Ew.

That's a lie, maybe even a bad attempt at coping on your part because there's a general consensus in your high school that Jung Wooyoung is good-looking.

You didn't even think he was ugly when you were younger, when he was pulling on your pigtails and teasing you for playing with dolls. He was cute for an annoying kid back then too with his chubby cheeks and bowl haircut.

He was especially cute now, a recent discovery of yours which you have no one else to thank except puberty. It did wonders on your hormones and it did wonders on Jung Wooyoung too.

His jawline got sharper the more baby fat he lost and lips grew fuller. His boyish smile was very attractive, even his smile lines were captivating. Wooyoung grew taller as well, not by much compared to the other boys in his grade but he was tall just enough so you'd have to look up to him when you argue but not enough to be intimidated by him.

So, yes, you supposed you'd understand the appeal if it weren't for his stupid mouth and mean words more often than not, directed at you. You threw shots back as well, sometimes even started an argument first if you were feeling particularly annoying but maybe that sums up why you're so bothered.

He started dating Chaeyoung at the beginning of this summer and since you have the fortune (read: misfortune) of living in the house right across the street from Wooyoung's, you were an unlucky witness to most of their dates.

And he was so sweet to her. He'd buy her cheap flowers and ice cream, they'd walk around the neighbourhood holding hands, they'd take Wooyoung's younger brother Kyungmin to the playground in the evenings. Wooyoung would smile a lot at her and Chaeyoung would always smile back.

You even saw them kiss. Just once.

When you were folding laundry in your bedroom, you looked through the window just in time to see their lips connect on Wooyoung's front porch. You quickly looked away, feeling shy and embarrassed, not understanding why you were blushing or feeling so sad all of a sudden.

Why was he so nice to other girls but never to you? You shouldn't think too much about it, the problem isn't you. Chaeyoung wasn't just some other girl but his girlfriend. Of course, he'd treat her special.

Whatever. You scoff as you watch Chaeyoung run to Wooyoung across the quad as you adjust your sports bag over your shoulder.

She jumps into his arms and you can hear his loud, annoying laughter even to here as his arms wrap around her and he picks her up from the ground.

"What are you doing?" You almost jump out of your skin at the sound of Ryujin's voice as she nosily tries to follow where you were staring at.

Ryujin was the first friend you met since you started high school two weeks ago. She might be the only friend you have for awhile since you haven't really been trying to even get to know your classmates as you were too busy trying out for the girls football team.

You don't remember when you started actively playing football exactly. You always played it for fun with the boys from the neighbourhood (Wooyoung included) but maybe it was around seventh grade when your dad pestered you into trying out a sport because he didn't know what else to do with you so he packed you up and sent you to a sports camp for two weeks one summer, that you started actually playing.

You went there only caring about your iPad and came back saying you'll be a professional football player.

Your dad doesn't want to say it but you know he thinks it's a fickle dream that will fizzle out with age.

Thankfully, Ryujin shared the same love for the sport as you so for now, you were relieved and content to spend time with her. She was nice.

You didn't need anyone else but maybe it would've been nice if someone who was older, who you were familiar with even if you always fought, would give you a couple of words of useful advice. Regarding the new teachers and subjects and all.

High school was scary.

"Nothing." You answer quickly, turning your back to Wooyoung and his girlfriend and fully facing your new friend.

"Nothing?" Ryujin gives you a suspicious smile, eyes darting over your shoulder once more before she ruffles your hair. You yelp. "Do you have a crush already, Y/N?"

You gently shove her away with a huff, fixing your bangs, "Don't be stupid. These boys are all ugly."

A crush. As if!

She laughs at that, throwing her arm around your shoulder as she directs you both to the field where practice was held, already yapping about her own crush.

"Hey, isn't that your neighbour?" Chaeyoung nudges Wooyoung with her elbow, nodding somewhere behind Wooyoung. He cranes his neck to follow the direction before his eyes land on you.

He snorts, "Yeah."

You were standing in the middle of the football field, sweaty and red in the face from all the running, with your hands on your hips as you paid attention to what your coach was yelling towards your teammates across the field.

The school's jersey seemed far too big on your lanky form and your hair was a mess, always slipping out of your ponytail. You were much smaller in build than the rest of the team and it looked funny to Wooyoung.

He didn't expect you to be into sports, let alone a sport like football. In fact, Wooyoung is surprised that you don't burst into tears when you start arguing with the makeshift referee played by another student. It's what usually happens if you spend longer than a minute arguing with Wooyoung.

And then he ends up being the bad guy for making you cry but no one ever mentions that you sometimes provoke him first as well but can't take it when it's dished right back.

Since you're such a crybaby.

He watches with an amused grin as you bare your teeth at the referee, who is really just a senior that thought it would be a fun time but now he has to stand arguing with you. And to Wooyoung's further amusement, the older boy who is almost two heads taller than you, looks like he's about to shit his pants in front of you.

Hm. Maybe not such a crybaby when it's anyone else but Wooyoung.

"I think she has a crush on you."

He turns to look at his girlfriend with a confused look, growing further confused when she smiles teasingly at him.

"Who?" He asks and she gives him a knowing look before nodding in your direction again. Wooyoung splutters out a surprised laugh, "Y/N?"

"Yeah." She nods excitedly, giggling, "She's cute."

Wooyoung scoffs with an eyeroll, "She's a kid."

A kid who might have a small crush on Wooyoung but still, a kid nonetheless.

He'd be stupid to say he didn't notice that you sometimes stare at him a little too much but what the hell is he supposed to do about that. You just started high school, you probably weren't even aware of what you were doing. It was a childish crush because at the end of the day that's what you are - childish.

Chaeyoung giggles again, the sound is soft and sweet, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"It's kind of sweet." She sighs dreamily and Wooyoung snorts because nothing about you was sweet, "You're her handsome neighbour, the only guy who's always been close to her since she was a kid, she probably starts those childish arguments with you so you'd give her attention and then writes about you in her diary and-"

"Y/N is the last person to have a diary, first of all." Wooyoung interrupts with a snicker before looking down on his girlfriend who is teasing him, "Second of all, you sound ridiculous."

Chaeyoung lifts her head up from where it rested against him and looks at him seriously, her lips pressed together. Then she starts imitating Wooyoung's last sentence in a deeper voice that sounds nothing like him, "You sound ridiculous-ah!"

She squeals when Wooyoung pinches her at the waist lovingly and it turns to tickling her as he presses kisses to her cheeks.

As they continue to exchange kisses between hushed giggles, the conversation about you is forgotten.

18 and 20 years old;

From the moment you opened the door to greet your date, you knew that the whole night would be a complete and utter disaster.

Maybe you watched too many teen movies that romanticized prom night so much that even you ended up believing and looking forward to the glorified fantasy of it but boy, were you in for a rude awakening.

Your prom date was a boy from your Calculus class named Eunwoo.

To be completely honest, you were convinced for the entirety of your senior year that you wouldn't have a date for prom at all because not much has changed since freshman year.

You still had one good friend (two, if you count Ryujin's friend that says she likes hanging out with you) and your focus was always on football. Add schoolwork and keeping up your good grades and you truly didn't have much time left for socializing.

So when Eunwoo pulled you aside after your football practice and asked you if you wanted to go to prom together with a handsome boyish smile on his face, your excitement for that night skyrocketed.

Eunwoo wasn't exactly a friend but he was nice to you during class, maybe you were wrong but his niceness sometimes even bordered flirting. Already, you were daydreaming about a possible boyfriend to spend your last summer with before you start college.

With a date or without one, you spend the bigger portion of your senior year saving up money for prom night or should you say prom preparations.

Makeup was never your strongest suit, in fact, it wasn't a suit of yours at all. You never wore it. You never did your hair either.

Even on the rare occasion that you went to a high school party, you never wore anything else aside from jeans and T-Shirts. You were an athlete and you committed to the bit entirely, always being ready to sweat and opting for comfort of loose clothes above anything else.

But you wanted to look nice for prom, pretty. Not because of Eunwoo but for yourself. Prom is only once and you wanted to make sure you do it with confidence.

All your saved up allowance went on the hair and makeup appointment along with your dress that Ryujin helped you pick out. The dress was quite simple in your opinion, a dark red one with a square neckline held up by two thin straps that clung to your curves and flared out at the bottom.

With your hair pinned up in an up-do with two curled strands framing your face and glitter on your eyelids, you thought you looked very pretty, beautiful even. Hell, it was probably the best you looked in your entire eighteen years of life. You could even put up with the painful heels for the sake of it.

Your dad made you pose over the whole house while you waited for your date to pick you up. First a photoshoot on the stairs, then one on the front porch, then a little in front of the living room fireplace.

He seemed so excited with his camera hanging around his neck as he followed you around the house.

It was one of the moments you wished your mom was here for but nonetheless, it was much fun with your dad only as well. You were happy.

It all went to shit though once you opened the door for Eunwoo and he started laughing in your face.

"Oh my God!" He laughs, almost doubling over at the apparent hilarity of your appearance, "What are you wearing?!"

You laugh nervously, ignoring your father's glance at you from the sheer embarrassment, "What? Is it that bad?"

"No, no." Eunwoo shakes his head, wiping a stray tear that escaped while he was laughing, "It's just not like you, at all."

"Oh." You give him a sour smile, your fragilely built ego shattering completely. "I was just...trying something new I guess..."

He snickers with a headshake before offering you his hand, "Come on, let's go take a photo?"

After a small moment of hesitation, feeling your cheeks burn from the humiliation, you let him grab your hand and step out on the front porch. Eunwoo places a hand around your waist to pull you closer as you both smile at your dad's camera.

A couple of photos later, you both head towards Eunwoo's car as your dad waves you goodbye. You give him a small, almost sad wave back as Eunwoo opens the door for you. You ask him;

"Do I really look funny?"

"No, you look pretty no matter what." He answers, helping you with your dress. "It's just doesn't suit you I guess, it's not like you."

"Ah..." You say staring at the dashboard as you watch him round the car to get into the driver's seat. You glance back at your dad just to see him get back into your house and for a split second, you want to call the whole thing off and go back inside with him.

Of course this doesn't suit you. You were the girl guys dapped up in the hallways, the girl that was always covered in hoodies and sweatpants and never wore makeup. You must look stupid, all dolled up like this. What were you thinking.

Prom celebration is usually held at a hotel not far from your high school. The ballroom is enormous, with vast marble floors and high ceilings illuminated by golden, shimmery lights. It looks straight out a fairytale with colorful dresses worn by pretty princess and handsome princes in their extravagant suits. Only, you don't feel like a princess at all.

Eunwoo and you find your table and you briefly say hi to Ryujin and her date. Ryujin tells you how amazing you look and you give her the first (and possibly, only) genuine smile of the night.

"So," Eunwoo starts the conversation a few minutes after you settle down at your table with drinks, "Did you decide where you're going for college? Any scouts?"

"I'm leaning towards SNU. Their Women's Football Club is really strong and I feel like they actually get proper investments and budget." You tell him and he grins interrupting your next sentence.

"See, this is why I like you. It's hard to find a girl who knows about sports and is so chill about everything."

Your mouth stays parted, the rest of your sentence (which was really just saying that the fact the male football team was hot contributed to your decision as joke) went unsaid as his words registered. Every "compliment" Eunwoo gives you is starting to come off so backhandedly that you're beginning to realize that while he thinks he has you all figured out - he doesn't actually know you at all.

You give him a fake laugh and pray to God it doesn't sound fake enough for him to notice as you take a sip of your drink.

An hour later, your heels are killing you so much that you've completely given up on dancing. You observe Ryujin on the dance floor with her date, still going at it and sigh with the silent question of when it would be your turn. Instead, you're stuck to the sidelines with shoes that feel awful on your feet and a date that can't stop talking about how it's attractive that you're a "girl that actually eats". Eunwoo's compliments are becoming weirder by the second.

"Should I just take you home?" Eunwoo asks with an amused smile as he observes you taking off your heels for the tenth time since you sat back down.

"Ah, would you mind?" You give him an apologetic smile, feeling like a burden and a not-so-much-fun date, "I'm sorry, Eunwoo, this is unfair to you-"

"Nah, I had a fun time." He shakes his head, downing the rest of his drink, "Next time, just be yourself though, yeah?"

The weirdly phrased statement makes you pause. "What do you mean?"

"You know, you don't have to dress like this!" He laughs, playfully playing with the thin strap of your dress. You subtly move away from his touch. "It's not like you at all. I don't know if your friends talked you into it just to fit in but you shouldn't let them push you around like this."

He's so wrong that you can't speak for a moment but even if you could, you feel like trying to explain yourself to him would be far too exhausting and would lead to nowhere. Nor do you want it to lead anywhere anymore, if you were honest.

"Girls like that are so exhausting." He gives a tired sigh. "Outfits and makeup aren't the only thing in the world."

"Girls....like that?"

"You know! Like, the touchy-feely shit. Everything is about color-coordination and nail polishes with them. God forbid their hair is out of place. What a headache!" Eunwoo runs a hand through his hear before giving you an award winning smile. "That's why I'm glad I got to hang out with you! You're real."

"I'm....real?" You ask with a cocked head as your eyes start to narrow. He's too busy thinking that you like what he's saying so he continues.

"Yeah. You know, you keep it real. You're not caught up in that frivolous, girly bullshit. You're so chill, Y/N." He keeps smiling at you like he just gave you the highest form of compliment he possibly could.

But you can't bring yourself to crack a smile even if someone held a barrel of a gun to your temple at the moment. In fact, you feel like throwing up. You should've know from the start, from the moment he was so unreasonably impressed with your lack of makeup at the beginning of the year.

Eunwoo was one of those guys.

"Um," You slide your heels back on and grab your clutch, "You know what, you stay. I'll go."

"Wait, what." His brows raise in half confusion and half surprise as he watches you stand up from your seat.

"Yeah, I'll walk home."

"Wait, Y/N. Why would you walk home? I already said I'd drop you off-"

"No thanks. I don't want to get in a car with a sexist."

"What?!" Eunwoo reels back, "What the fuck are you talking about?! I'm not a sexist! I respect women!"

You huff, turning to him with a glare. "You respect women who are "cool" and "chill" and basically act like men. You should've just taken one of your dudes to prom if these are your opinions. I'm out."

So, that's how you find yourself in your pretty dress sitting in one of the plastic chairs of a convenience store with a popsicle in your mouth as you watch the cars drive by. You were too embarrassed to arrive home so early, you hyped up prom night so much to your dad - you'd rather lie and tell him you had a good time.

If the night couldn't possibly get any shittier, while you eat away at your cherry popsicle feeling undeniably sorry for yourself, you hear a familiar laugh followed by sounds of shoes scuffing against the pavement towards the convenience store.

Of course. Of fucking course, Jung Wooyoung would show up now, when you needed him least.

You try to make yourself seem as small as possible in the plastic chair, hoping he or his two friends wouldn't notice you (which in retrospect was a dumb hope, you were sitting right by the entrance in a fucking prom dress).

Ever since Wooyoung graduated high school two years ago, you only saw him in passing. He'd come home for Christmas holidays or a week or two during the summers and you'd only catch him skunk out of his house and into his dad's car if you were lucky. Unlucky, that is of course.

Maybe you were hoping he wouldn't even recognize you and although it would kind of hurt (as embarrassing as that is to admit), you feel like it would be a better option.

But since you were on a roll tonight, obviously this is just another thing that doesn't go your way.

"Nice dress, Y/L/N." You hear Wooyoung's voice speak, followed by snickers from his idiotic friends and his own attempt at stifling his laughter as they walk past you and into the convenience store, the small bell above the door signaling their entrance.

That ends up being your last straw.

You don't cause another fight or yell something back after him, no, you don't have the energy to do that tonight. Instead, you feel like you will cry.

Tears are already burning at your eyes and your bottom lip wobbles, you're not even aware that your eyes follow Wooyoung through the display of the store, watching him as he picks up a pack of beer and heads for the cashier.

He got even more painfully handsome than he was when you'd see him every day before he graduated. His hair was double toned, the top of it black and the bottom strands bleached, brushing the nape of his neck.

You think you could even see a tattoo peaking under his shirt as he moves.

Jung Wooyoung was so not your type. Not that you really knew what your type was but all the guys that you found cute in your high school years were athletes, jocks who were organized and dedicated to their routine which in your opinion showcased their maturity, got good grades and were respected by their peers. Wooyoung was really the complete opposite of that so it was hard to explain why you so weirdly hung up over his approval.

He's still laughing about something with his friends, it would hurt so badly if it was about you, as his eyes dart through the display and connect with your own.

Wooyoung does a double take before his big smile slowly slips and dare you say, eyes soften as he looks at you and his lips part as if he wants to say something.

It could all be in your head though and you're feeling even worse now that he caught you staring at him like a total creep, so you throw your popsicle in the trash and get up with a sigh, slipping back into your heels and deciding to just go home.

"Hey, Y/L/N! Wait up, I'll give you a ride home!" Wooyoung calls out after you, the plastic bag swinging back and forth in his hand.

He can hear Chanwook's hushed objection which Wooyoung chooses to ignore, instead focused on walking closer to you. You couldn't make it far since you were basically limping in your heels.

"No thanks." Wooyoung hears your response and rolls his eyes. He hasn't spoken to you in the last two years at all but he can see that nothing has changed much - you were still too stubborn for your own good.

You didn't even bother to turn back and look at him, instead you hitch your dress further up and continue up the street and away from the convenience store.

"Y/N, come on. Quit being a brat and just wait for me to bring the car around."

"I said no!" You yell over your shoulder and let out a small yelp when you stutter a bit on your feet. To Wooyoung, you resembled Bambi right now.

"I'm trying to help you!" He yells back, still following you, "Just let me drive you back-"

"Wooyoung, seriously, fuck off!" You turn to face him with red cheeks and teary eyes (maybe that's why he's insisting so badly to drive you home, you simply look pathetic), "I don't need your fucking help!"

Wooyoung reels back at your tone and harsh words and then a wave of embarrassment washes over him when he hears Chanwook and Eunhyuk laugh behind him, at the fact that he just got told off by his little neighbour.

The embarrassment is followed up by anger that prickles at his skin like needles, he scoffs and if there's one thing Wooyoung will be - it's petty; "Fine! Limp home in your stupid heels then, see if I give a shit!"

You don't give him a response and Wooyoung doesn't bother to look for it either, instead turns around on his feet and heads towards his car (his dad's car). But not before telling a laughing Chanwook to shut the fuck up.

But once he's in the car with the keys in the ignition, he stares at the steering wheel in obvious contemplation before letting out a small groan, "Fuck."

Wooyoung turns to Chanwook, "Sit in the back, please."

His friend looks at him in surprise and confusion. "What?"

"Just sit in the back, will you? Please." Wooyoung repeats, avoiding Chanwook's eyes but feeling his stumped stare.

"Wooyoung, you cannot be serious." His friend laughs in disbelief as if reading his mind, looking around before giving Wooyoung another incredulous look, "She just told you to fuck off!"

Eunhyuk is quiet in the back which is a huge relief for Wooyoung, he really didn't need to defend himself to his other friend too.

"I can't let her go by foot in the dark, you've seen her! She can barely walk!" Wooyoung says defensively to both of his friends as Chanwook moves to the back with a huff.

"And that's your problem...how?" Chanwook, like the annoying pest he is, asks.

"It's not...." Wooyoung trails off, trying to look for an excuse as to why he was going out of his way to give you a ride home. "But...but her dad would kill me if he knew I saw her and didn't drive her back. It's only right."

Chanwook smacks his lips obnoxiously loud, "Sure."

Wooyoung doesn't even need to turn around to know that his friend is giving him a very bold side eye right now.

Eunhyuk snorts but doesn't say anything else. Wooyoung is thankful for that at least.

"She probably won't even want to get in the car." Chanwook comments quietly as they reach you on the sidewalk. He ends up being ignored.

Wooyoung rolls the window of the old car down so he can talk to you, he has to say you're walking at an impressively slow pace. "Y/N, get in the car."

He hears you groan dramatically from the outside, "Jung, you're not my dad. Stop telling me what to do."

Wooyoung ignores Chanwook and Eunhyuk's snickers in the back once again, he grows even more irritated, "I'll call your fucking dad right now and tell him you're walking home alone this late. How about that?"

You turn to him with your glossy lips twisted into a scowl, "You wouldn't."

Always ready to prove a point or in this case, lie straight out of his ass, Wooyoung makes a show of stopping his car next to the sidewalk and fishing his phone from the pocket of his jacket before opening up his contacts and beginning to scroll. He doesn't even have your dad's number.

But Wooyoung is a professional bullshitter so he keeps pressing random buttons with a straight face and presses the phone to his ear before turning to you with his brows raised-

"Okay, fine!" You exclaim with an angry huff and start rounding his car as your cheeks flush a pretty pink color. Wait, pretty-? You open the door and angrily plop into the passenger's seat with a glare directed towards him, "Fucking snitch."

Wooyoung ignores you, locking his phone without another word and beginning to drive away.

There's an awkward silence in the car, only sounds being made are those of the plastic bags filled with beer that keep rustling in Eunhyuk's lap.

"This isn't the way to our street." You say and Wooyoung might be crazy but you almost sound a little nervous at that. He glances at you before it dawns onto him. Of course, you'd be feeling nervous.

It's nighttime and you're in a car with three dudes older than you who you don't know that well. Wooyoung didn't even bother telling you about his plan before he started driving. A curse runs through his head before he clears his throat,

"I'll just drop these two off at a party nearby and then drive you home." He murmurs, chest constricting a little when he sees you cross your hands over your chest, a gesture which makes you seem smaller.

"Wait, wha-" Chanwook, gosh he was really pissing Wooyoung off tonight, starts from the backseat. "Woo, I thought you were going too-"

"I will." Wooyoung interrupts him with a clenched jaw as he pulls up to the house where the party is held, "I'll drop Y/N off and then come back, it won't take more than fifteen minutes. Now get out- Wait, give me that bag right there."

Eunhyuk hands him one of the plastic bags and Wooyoung fishes through it and pulls out two blueberry ice creams out of it before giving the bag back to Eunhyuk. Which he bought for himself, of course. Not because he saw your popsicle melting on the pavement or anything.

Chanwook watches with a dropped jaw before huffing, Wooyoung hears him murmur, "Doing it for her dad, my ass-"

"I'll be right back!" Wooyoung announces loudly, far too loudly, and Eunhyuk slams the car door shut so Wooyoung can drive away.

When he pulls away, the silence in the car is almost stifling so Wooyoung offers you the ice cream, "Here."

You look at him like a second head just popped out of his shoulder before looking back through the window and ignoring him completely. Wooyoung lets out a small groan. So stubborn.

"Oh my God, just take it." He says, placing the ice cream on your lap as he continues to drive. He bites back a smile when he sees you stare at the ice cream on your lap for a long second before grasping it and opening the wrapper so you can eat it.

Wooyoung really doesn't know what he's doing right now.

He doesn't know why he bought ice creams for you, he doesn't know why he insisted on getting rid of his friends first before dropping you off home, he has no idea why he keeps glancing at you every couple of seconds from the corner of his eye and he especially doesn't have a clue why he takes the longer route home.

When tomorrow comes and he wakes up hangover from the party and probably in someone else's bed, he'll give himself the same excuse he gave the boys. He wanted to make sure you got home safely because it's the right thing to do. There was nothing else to it.

But in this moment, right now, in the stifling silence and the breeze that flows through the opened window's because the air conditioning isn't working - Wooyoung notices things that he feels embarrassed to notice, or maybe he noticed them before but never allowed himself to appreciate��them until tonight.

Like, how nice your bare neck and collarbones look now that your hair is pinned up in soft curls. A thin silver necklace graces your neck. Or how the two curled strands at the front frame your face prettily. Your eyelids are painted with something shimmery which Wooyoung doesn't know the name of and your cheekbones are a soft peach color intentionally placed there beforehand.

Your glossy lips wrap around the ice cream cone and you bite off a huge chunk.

"Why are you staring at me?" Wooyoung can decipher the question even through the mouthful of ice cream as you give him a slight glare.

Because you're pretty. Is what he wants to say, honest and bare, but he obviously can't because you're you and he's Wooyoung. "Because you have ice cream on your nose."

His hands tighten against the steering wheel when he sees you quickly look to the side and wipe at your nose self-consciously. You blush a scarlet red from the embarrassment. Great, now he feels like an asshole.

Wooyoung clears his throat, "Why did you look so sad? Back there, in front of the store."

He has no idea why he's trying to make conversation with you. You two never do that, never did. The closest thing to a conversation between Wooyoung and you would be the arguments you'd have in the middle of the school hallway when he'd tease you for your braces.

Those came off as well, by the way, he can see the pearly white teeth perfectly aligned now as you speak. No longer crooked. Maybe he'd like to see them pulled up in a smile but that's borderline wishful thinking now. You smiling at Wooyoung? Yeah, right.

"No reason." You tell him quietly, slumping in your seat as you continue to eat your ice cream. You sigh with an eyeroll, "Just...prom sucked."

Likely thing to happen.

The key is to go to prom with your expectations so low that you can only go up from there but Wooyoung had an inkling feeling that having low expectations wasn't in your nature.

Besides, you were a jock. He remembers even when you were a freshman, you were already running with the popular crowd without even being aware of it, with the athletes and the cheerleaders. Prom night is sort of a pinnacle of the high school experience for people like you.

Guess it's a bummer that you look like you had a shit time.

He hums, "At the end of the day, it's just another Friday night. Nothing special. So even if it sucked, you'll get over it."

Maybe he wasn't the best at giving advice or comforting people.

You side eye him and he pretends not to see it before you quietly add, "I don't usually spend a year worth of allowance on just another Friday night."

Wooyoung cracks a smile, teasing you being a second nature even if you barely spoke since he graduated, "What? Did you expect a prince charming to sweep you off your feet so you two can dance the night away or something? I didn't know you were into that corny shit, Y/L/N."

He hears you scoff, cheeks still red as you roll your eyes, seriously annoyed, "Whatever. Forget I said anything."

Wooyoung's gives a forced snicker just to annoy you before his smile drops again and his eyes flutter shut for a moment out of pure frustration at his own stupidity, internally cursing himself. If shooting yourself in the foot was a person - it would have Jung Wooyoung's photo and name posted under it.

Why can't you just be nice to her?

The air in the car turns even more awkward and Wooyoung shifts uncomfortably in his seat while you continue to eat your ice cream in silence as you stare through the window.

He slows down in front of your house just when you're finishing your ice cream.

You crumple the wrapper in your hand, place the second ice cream on the dashboard and grab the small bag laying on your lap before grabbing the door handle.

"I hope," Wooyoung starts and when you turn to look at him, he's overcome with a sudden coughing fit which is really just awkwardness and the need to fix whatever the fuck he broke a little even more tonight, "Uh, hope you took some good pictures tonight at least because..."

He trails off, feeling like it was his first time flirting with a girl. Wait, what the fuck. He was not flirting with you. Not even a little bit. Wooyoung was simply trying to pay you a compliment. Simple as that. It doesn't have to be anything more. You don't even need to be friends to pay someone a compliment, in fact, Wooyoung is positive that regular archnemeses complimented each other at least once.

Unfortunately, compliments aren't the norm between the two of you, so whatever nice thing he says feels wrong.

Your brows raise.

"You know," He trails off, scratching the back of his neck in an attempt to seem cool and collected. He nonchalantly adds but his side glances might give him away, fortunately you're too much of a ditz to notice, "You look good."

You stare at him for a long moment, seriously it's so long that he almost changes his mind and adds an insult just so you two would be back in those familiar waters of bickering and teasing each other but then your eyebrows fall back down and a scowl overtakes your features.

"Yeah, right." You mumble and Wooyoung almost feels insulted for some reason but then you continue, "Thanks for the ride."

And then you're out of the car and already moving across your front lawn before Wooyoung can snap out of it and remember to turn the car back on.

19 and 21 years old;

"10 more minutes! Y/L/N stop arguing with that asshole and get back into your position before you're out of the game completely!"

Your coach is red in the face from all the shouting and you know what's good for you, so you keep your mouth shut as you run to your spot, thoroughly ignoring the glare your team's captain shoots at you from your right.

The 'asshole' that your coach is referring to is the referee who didn't count a player from the rival team almost breaking your leg by bulldozing into you - as a foul.

"-stole Eunha's position from her and can't even play properly." You hear a snicker behind you and don't even have to turn to know who it's directed at.

Despite it being only your first semester, you haven't made the greatest impression on your teammates (nor did you try all that much to change that impression).

So for the time being, when there was no rival team, you were the collective enemy in the changing rooms and on the practice field. A freshman who kicked their friend from the spot she had since she started college. A freshman who thought she was better than the rest of her team. A freshman who didn't know how to behave at times. A freshman that made them run extra laps because she was bad at remembering all the new rules at times.

And now, a freshman that was playing badly and fucking up things for the rest of them.

"Y/N!" A hiss from your right is heard and your eyes zero in on your captain, Jihyo, who is staring at you. "Focus."

You swallow harshly and give her a quick now before focusing your gaze to the front.

In high school, you weren't used to losing. You were a winner, it's what you prided yourself in. Failure wasn't an option when it came to football.

But turns out in college, when all the other players are as good as you, winning isn't as easy.

In fact it’s a lot harder than you thought it would be. Nearing the end of the first half the score sheet is still empty and it annoys all of the players and the fans as well. The weirdest thing is how ball is not even on your team's side of the field most of the time; your defenders did not have a very entertaining start of the game in comparison to defenders from Busan, who already look out of breath from all of the attacks to their side. Not to mention that they keep teaming up on you specifically.

You can’t pinpoint what exactly is wrong and why there was no goal to this point; half of you thinks it’s because you didn’t blend well with the team.

"Run, run, run!" Yeonjin shouts, when Sinb loses the ball and Busan’s midfielders rush to their side.

The spike of adrenaline energizes you and your eyes zero on the ball, running after it. Mina’s figure passes from your left and both of you corner the midfielder, successfully getting the ball to your side. You have it and quickly pass it to Yeonjin, seeing her signal for the ball. You watch her run off when a body collides with your own and the impact is so strong, you lose your balance, falling down.

‘What?’ You ask yourself in disbelief not understanding how you're sprawled across the grass again, slowly standing up. At first you're shell-shocked but now anger fills you to the brim when you see that it's the same girl who intentionally collided with you the first time, watching you with a smug smirk and then you're just ready to fight.

You push back at her and get even angrier when the bitch doesn't fall.

"Are you going to go tattle to mommy?" She asks with a mocking concern and you can’t hear anything; you even forget that you are in the middle of the game because your anger turns your vision red.

With a loud groan, you launch towards her and grab her by the shirt, screaming to her face that 'she's a cunt'. There are hands around you, pulling you away, trapping you and not letting you go even when you try to break free.

Jihyo's face is in front of you and you can't register what she's saying but you can see her turn red from how pissed off she is. Maybe it's better if you're not listening to her, if you can't hear anyone actually...but then-

"Hey, number nine! You better not fucking cry!"

At first, you think the loud yell came from somewhere on the field. You thought another player from the Busan team was talking shit. And then,

"Number nine! Crybaby!"

There's some laughter in the audience and it's then that you realize the voice is shouting from the fucking bleachers.

A teammate is already pulling you in the opposite direction but your eyes are glued to crowd sitting on the sidelines, the annoying voice insistently yelling. Crybaby. Crybaby. Crybaby.

The worst part is that the voice sounds so painfully familiar, you just can't put your finger on it. Who.

You're about to let it go. You're about to be the bigger person and not act like a total brute on the field, just let it go Y/N. But then-

"Hey, hey crybaby!" You stop in your tracks, head whipping to the direction the voice was coming from and eyes coasting over the bleachers. "What kind of hill did you roll down from that you don't even know how to push someone back properly?!"

Finally, you spot it. Him. In a red hoodie, making sure to stand out in the sea of blue. It's no wonder the voice sounded so eerily familiar, you've heard it screaming at you for the majority of your childhood and a good chunk of your teen years.

Because he rolled down the same hill as you with only a street separating you.

When he realizes that you've caught onto him, he gives you that smile. That grin that never led to anything good, pearly white teeth gleaming under the lights of the bleachers as he taunts you.

You blood pressure jumps so, you take a deep breath and....scream;

"Jung Wooyoung!"

#ateez angst #ateez x reader #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung imagine #wooyoung smut #wooyoung angst #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung scenarios

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shinynewboots · 7 days

Text

Staring at the Sun / Adam x Lute Chapter 7

Summary: After the battle, Lute attempts to flee with Adam. They find themselves unable to return to Heaven and must adjust to life in Hell.

AN: Hi all! Very excited about this chapter, I really enjoyed writing it (I essentially had big word vomit today lol it's crazy how motivated I am to write when I am well-rested). I hope you guys enjoy it as well!

Warnings: Violence, gore, 18+ eventually, Adam-typical misogyny, alcohol use

Chapter 6

Chapter 8

Lute had awoken only once during her shared nap with Adam (due to Keekee snuggling up beside her with no idea how the cat had gotten into the room since the door was closed). She had been so warm and just so relaxed that she chose to lull herself back into sleep, snuggled against Adam's chest.

Lute had chosen not to bring up the circumstances surrounding the nap and Adam had offered no explanations. It hadn’t changed their dynamic much.

Except for the fact that now when it was time for bed, Adam would scoot to the side and hold the blanket open and his wings unfurled for Lute to snuggle into.

The first few times he had done this, it had been accompanied by the words “You coming or not?” and a large yawn from Adam. Now, however, they had found themselves in a very comfortable routine of sleeping together with no argument and very little acknowledgement.

Lute wouldn't deny that it was the best sleep she could ever remember having. Adam was almost like a furnace with heat radiating off of his body, and Lute couldn't help but move in closer. Sometimes he would throw an arm around her and pull her close. There was even the one time he had done so while still asleep (which she knew he had been because of his soft snores) and had whispered her name as he burrowed close to her body. She had stilled and her eyes widened until she realized he was only dreaming.

Maybe she had even imagined her name being whispered like a prayer from his lips.

No matter. No use in dwelling on such things anyway. She did not want to destroy this fragile, new territory she found herself in with Adam. It was the closest she could remember her body ever being to someone else’s in a soft way. Of course, she had fought and trained and wrestled her entire life and so the feel of another body was not completely foreign. But this softness…this softness and comfort and gentleness was completely foreign.

Lute was not soft. She was hard. She was steel. She was unbent. She did not give into the softness. And yet…She found herself craving it. She had started to live for the moments when she had snuggled close to Adam right before he succumbed to sleep. When he would snuggle closer to her and breath softly in her ear.

She had also never seen Adam in such a soft light either. She knew he had fucked several angels, mortals, and likely sinners but never in the details of his sexual escapades did he mention the quiet moments when the act was done. When she imagined he might simply hold his partner the way he held her.

Fucking shit. She was dwelling.

Lute shook her head and tried to bring her focus back to the activity in front of her. Charlie had chosen a very calm “paint by numbers” activity that Lute had barely started. She looked down at her almost blank canvas and sighed. With a glance she looked at Adam’s painting. It was halfway completed but he did a terrible job of staying in the lines and so his picture revealed some cursed version of da Vinci’s The Last Supper.

It had been a few weeks since the Combat Training mishap, and in that time Charlie had been a bit more careful about the group activities she chose for the hotel. Lute’s jaw (and Vaggie’s nose) had healed from their fight; even Adam’s original injuries from the extermination were almost completely healed and he was almost back to his old self.

She and Adam had been planning to make their trek to the embassy in the next day or two. Not that anyone else in the hotel knew that (though Lute could swear that fucking Radio Demon shadow was keeping a close eye on them).

Speaking of keeping a close eye on them, Lute had also gained shadows of her own since her fight with Vaggie. Shadows in the form of little egg creatures that seemed hellbent on annoying her to no end. They had approached her one afternoon with no warning and followed her like baby ducklings whenever she had let her guard down and didn’t make a fast get away.

The 4 eggs had approached her while she had been contemplating in the hotel garden. She had found a bench that she liked to spend a few quiet moments after her morning runs before having to face the reality of the hellish day. It had been getting harder and harder to force herself awake in the mornings and leaving Adam’s warm embrace.

She sat, her guard down, and her head bent backwards at the hellish sun shined its almost overbearing rays on her face. She breathed in deep and took in the stillness of the garden.

Her peace was disturbed when she felt something poke her leg. Her eyes shot open and was met with 8 pairs eyes looking at her with stupid devotion.

“What do you want, egg creatures?” She asked in annoyance. They grinned up at her.

“We want you to be our new boss.” One of them, the leader of the eggs, said stepping ahead in front of the other three eggs.

“No.”

The eggs frowned and began to protest, following along with their tiny legs as Lute tried to escape the garden as quick as she could. Something told her the Radio Demon had set them up to this.

The eggs were quiet now, all four preoccupied with the painting task at hand. Adam had thought the entire situation was fucking hilarious. “ You’re like a fucking mother duck or something.”

“Lieutenant, look at my painting!” One of the eggs exclaimed, walking towards her with a very crude rendition of American Gothic . The paint by numbers had been completely forgotten and the egg had chosen instead to draw childish stick figures.

“Which one is that one?” Adam whispered to her. Lute shrugged and shook her head.

“Kind of shitty no one ever gave them names. You should name them.” Angel said, watching the scene unfold in front of them as he painted a pretty impressive rendition of the Birth of Venus, though instead of Venus he had chosen to paint himself as the main focus instead.

“And how would be able to tell them apart?”

“I don’t know toots, paint?”

“I was able to always tell my girls apart,” Adam said, taking a sip of the cocktail in front of him. Lute rolled her eyes.

“Fucking save it, you couldn’t tell Lyre and Pandore apart to save your life.” Lute fired back, discarding her painting and turning her attention towards the eggs. “Eggs, at attention!”

The four eggs wobbled towards her and stood in a line, just as she had taught them. Beginning from left to right Lute began to paint their new names on their heads (remniscent of a human celebration of painting easter eggs). Now before her stood newly named Egg Bois: Blue, Orange, Yellow, and Red.

“Um, Lieutenant, I already have a name,” Red said, his eggbrow furrowed. Lute frowned.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a name?”

“You never asked.” Lute wanted to slap her forehead in frustration. Instead she took a deep breath and sighed.

“Okay, what’s your name?”

“Frank.” Lute sighed and grabbed the red paint and added and ‘F’ in front of the still wet ‘R-E-D’.

“Not anymore, your new name is Fred.”

“Fred!” Fred yelled, chattering with his newly named comrades.

“Yes, now go and finish your paintings and leave me alone.”

“You got it Lieutenant!” The eggs wobbled away, more excited than she had ever seen them in her short time as their declared boss.

“That was nice thing you did there,” Angel offered, a tentative smile on his features. Lute nodded in acknowledgement and went back to trying to focus on her canvas. The activity was in the foyer, as most activities were, but Lute had been surprised at how quiet almost everyone was during this activity. The Radio Demon was nowhere to be seen, as per usual, but everyone was present and focused on their art. Even the sudden knock at the door did not startle the hotel guests.

Charlie ran to the door, excitedly as always, and pulled it open. “Uncle Ozzie!!”

The serenity of the activity was long lost as all eyes in the room turned toward the scene of Charlie hugging a vibrant, rooster-esque demon that stood at an even taller stature than herself.

“Candy Apple! It’s so good to see you!” The blue demon exclaimed. Lute looked over Adam, who’s face had suddenly darkened. Lute reached out her hand and squeezed his thigh under the table. Behind the blue demon, an imp appeared with jester-like clothing.

“Uncle Fizz!” Charlie exclaimed, leaping from the blue demon to engulf the clown imp into a hug.

“She knows Asmodeus and Fizzarolli?” Angel whispered sharply, looking starstruck at the pair in front of him. As Sinners were stuck in the Pride ring, there was very little chance if any for sinners to meet any other members of the various rings. The only Sin who regularly traveled between rings was Mammon, always in search of a quick buck or scam.

“That’s Asmodeus, the sin?” Lute whispered to Adam, who nodded slowly. “Adam, what’s wrong?”

“He’s fallen, all Sins are.”

“Wait, are you fucking serious?” Husk asked, himself and Angel scooting closer to Adam and Lute. “Even that fucking creep Mammon was an angel?”

Adam nodded once more, his face aging a thousand years in a single moment and he seemed to be taken back in a memory. “You think Lucifer was the only angel who fell when Eve at the apple?”

Adam’s face had contorted into a wry smile. He looked back over at the scene of Charlie and her uncles. Charlie had grabbed Vaggie and was introducing her. Vaggie seemed uncomfortable with attention and appeared to be stumbling over her words.

“Candy Apple, I didn’t know you were running an Angel Sanctuary.” Asmodeus said, his gaze making path past Charlie and Vaggie to Adam and Lute. “Not counting your little girlfriend, who cute as pie by the way.”

“I mean not really, it just kind of turned out that way.” Charlie laughed awkwardly, her eyes darting between the angels and sin.

“I’m surprised Luci isn’t here. I called him to let him know I was coming but didn’t get an answer.”

Charlie scratched her head awkwardly and lowered her voice. “That’s been pretty standard since Mom left. He was at the Extermination, I’m sure that aired all over Hell.”

“It did. Which was why I was little surprised to get your call.” Asmodeus said, bending down to Charlie’s level to look at her head on. “You’ve always been better than any of us, Charlie but even I thought you’d have your limits.”

Charlie looked over at Lute and Adam and whispered in Asmodeus’ ear. Asmodeus sighed, squeezed Charlie’s shoulder, and nodded. Charlie grinned at her uncle and began to guide him towards Lute and Adam.

“Adam,” Asmodeus said, walking up the group. Husk and Angel took that as their sign to back away but to continue to watch the show unfold. Angel grabbed Niffty, who had ignored the scene in front of her and continued her painting. Husk walked behind the bar, eyes never leaving the scene, and began to make himself and Angel a drink.

“Asmodeus. You’ve changed a little since Eden. Looking a little more 'cocky’ nowadays.” Adam’s face was unreadable, almost as if he was looking at a ghost. Lute scrunched her eyes and glanced between the Sin and Imp that had bounced up beside him. The Imp, Fizzarolli as she had heard Angel refer to him as, looked at her curiously before grinning and flashing an extenadable, metal arm her way.

Lute suddenly understood the picture and without thinking, lifted her right arm to the remains of her left, as if to shield her from the attention she knew she was about to receive.

“The same could be said for you, Adam. The wings are new…to me at least.”

“No thanks to you,” Adam shot back. Asmodeous held up his hand, signaling a truce.

“Listen, your grievances are not with me. And if you want to make it my problem, I can just pack back up the prosthetics Charlie asked me to bring for your girlfriend.” Fizzarolli pulled out a case from god knows where and opened it to reveal what appeared to be a metallic arm similar to the ones on his body. As if to make a show of Asmodeous’ seriousness, he shut the case almost as quickly as he had opened it.

“Ugh, fuck, don’t, don’t do that. I’ll be on my best behavior.” Adam said, sighing before sitting back down. He turned to Lute, who was staring at the scene like watching a trainwreck. Her right palm began to sweat and she felt overexposed without her Exorcist mask, despite having not worn it in months.

“Lute, was it?” Asmodeus asked, sitting down beside her. Lute nodded.

“I’m Asmodeus, one of Charlie’s uncles.This is my partner, Fizzarolli.” Asmodeus said, gesturing the imp beside him who was opening the case on the table.

“I specialize in various types of prosthetics and Charlie asked me to come by and fit you for one. May I?” He asked, gesturing to her damaged arm. She looked between him, Fizzarolli, and Adam and suddenly felt like a child in toy store asking their parent if a stranger was safe to talk to. But she was Lute and she was stronger than that, so she offered him her mangled arm.

Asmodeus grabbed her arm more gently than she could have imagined. His hand was practiced, as though he had done this a thousand times before. And after a glance at Fizzarolli, who Lute noticed had not only one prosthetic arm but one for each limb, she realized he probably had.

He examined the area around the stump that had been pulled over in a crude scar. Asmoedus turned to Fizzarolli as they both reached into the case and spoke in hushed whispers over the case. She felt shaky, overexposed. Utterly unlike herself. A hand reached under the table and grabbed her right one. It was Adam.

“You know you’re gonna look like even more of a badass, right? Especially with a terminator arm.”

“Awe, big boy, do you think I’m a bad ass too?” Fizzarolli interrupted before Lute could answer, flashing his prosthetic bicep guns and winking at Adam in a flirtatious fashion.

“Eh, as badass as a clown can be. You sound really familiar by the way.”

Fizz shrugged. “You’ve probably seen me on tv or radio or any other scammy source of entertainment Mammon is renting out.”

“Nah, doesn’t ring a bell.” Adam said before shrugging it off.

After some digging around for the right parts, Asmodeus held out the prosthetic arm for Lute. It was similar to Fizzarolli’s and had a dark gray color but didn’t have the retractable aspect his did, for which Lute was grateful. It might serve a clown greatly but even she didn’t think she had hte flexibility to be able to control those limbs.

“Alright, this is gonna pinch.” Asmodeus said, bringing the arm close to her scarred flesh. Lute grit her teeth as Asmodeus began to attach it using a mixture of technology and magic. A blue light lit out and Lute wanted to scream from the pain, but resisted. She was strong. She was capable. She could do this.

She wasn’t going to lie to herself and say the idea of a Sin using magic on her body was something she was thrilled about. However, she wasn’t the same person she had been prior to the Extermination. She knew now that there were some lines she would cross if it meant being able to strong for Adam. And this arm would help her be strong for him and herself.

Asmodeus released her arm. Lute stared down at the foreign limb. “Give it a try.”

Without even the thinking, the arm moved just as fluidly and naturally as her native right arm. She flexed her new fingers and curled them into a fist. It fit like a new pair of shoes just itching to be broken in. She pulled her right arm from Adam’s comforting grip and glanced between her two hands, comparing them.

“What do you think?” Asmodeus asked, all three of his heads smirking.

“Fits like a glove,” She whispered, in awe that something as vile a sin could create something so awe-inspiring.

“Dude, that’s fucking awesome!” Adam exclaimed, smiling at her as he reached out to touch her new arm. Lute smiled softly back at him. “Listen I’m gonna get you a fucking shot to celebrate.”

Adam stood from his chair, leaving Lute alone with Asmodeus and Fizzarolli. “Your boyfriend seems excited. I know you’re an angel and everything but if ever need tips on how to use it in bed…” Fizzarolli offered, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

“Oh, no, we’re not, um that.” Lute could feel the blood rising to her cheeks. Fuck these fuckers from Lust and their crude accusations. Asmodeus and Fizzarolli exchanged glances but decided to let it go.

“Thank you, Asmodeus.”

“Don’t thank me, thank Charlie.” He replied, glancing over at his niece who was talking excitedly with the other hotel patrons. “I only did it for her.”

Lute nodded, understanding the sentiment. Asmodeus and Fizzarolli rose from the table to give their goodbyes to Charlie.

“Awe Uncle Ozzie, I really appreciate it. You have no idea what this means to me!” Charlie gushed, looking over at Lute with a big smile.

“Anything for my little Candy Apple,” Ozzie said, booping Charlie’s nose in a way that implied he had done it a hundred times over. “I do think we’re about to head back though. I am gonna stop and see your daddy on our way out of town. To not even get a callback? Downright despicable.”

Charlie hugged her Uncles once more before they left the hotel (but not before Angel managed to get an autograph from Fizzaroli “It’s the real-life Fizzarolli, not a Robofizz! Do you know how big of a deal this is?”).

Charlie walked over to Lute, a sheepish look on her face.

“I’m really sorry for springing this on you. I didn’t even really ask if this was something you wanted, I just kind of assumed. But I wanted to surprise you because you and Adam have done a really great job of blending in with the other guests and the Egg Bois have really bonded with you and I just wanted to help,” Charlie word vomited out. Lute opened her mouth but then abruptly closed it, choosing her words carefully.

“I appreciate it…Charlie. It was very thoughtful and Adam and I have been very, um grateful for your hospitality. In the future, I would like to be asked about major things or gestures like that in perhaps a less public setting.” Lute almost choked out the words. For good measure, she decided to grin at Charlie, who looked at her as though she had seen a monster. Hopefully, the smile made Charlie feel as uncomfortable on the outside as Lute felt on the inside.

“Oh Lute thank you! I’m so sorry, I have such trouble with boundaries sometimes, I just want everyone to be happy,” Charlie exclaimed, tears in her eyes. Lute suddenly found herself engulfed in a Charlie-sized hug. For such a small woman, she sure hugged hard. Charlie did not let go until Lute gave her a pity pat on the back, which was the closest thing she was going to get to reciprocation.

Charlie untangled herself from Lute and pushed her towards the bar and the other guests. Lute found her place by Adam and whispered, “I think I need that shot now.”

Adam flashed her a grin and held out a shot glass with mysterious blue liquid. Lute grabbed the shot glass with her new arm and clinked her glass with Adam’s.

“Bottoms Up Bitch!”

That night, when the impromptu celebration at the hotel bar had calmed down and most patrons had retired for bed, Lute found herself snuggled in Adam’s embrace like she had every night. She could hear his breathing begin to slow and she knew if she wanted to speak to him, to digest the events of the day she had to do it now.

“Adam,” She whispered.

“Hm?” His sleepy reply.

“How did you know Asmodeus?”

The room was quiet. She worried he had fallen asleep.

“Lucifer wasn’t the only angel in the garden.” His voice was husky from sleep.

“Oh?”

“There were others that had their own, shall we say curiosities or hyperfixations that they wanted to introduce to humanity. Vices, I guess. When the archangels shunned us from the Garden and damned Lucifer and Lilith to Hell, they also decided to shun those angels as well. And they became the sins. So Asmodeus the sin of Lust, Beelzebub the sin of gluttony, and so on.”

It was moments like these that Adam became the mythic legend he always touted himself as being. He had the air of someone who had seen the rise and fall of humanity from the very beginning, which, she supposed, he had.

“What was it like, the garden?”

He was quiet for a moment and stillness took over the dark room. “It was perfect. I think it was more perfect than Heaven sometimes.”

Lute didn’t reply and instead chose to digest his answers. She didn’t know a greater perfection than Heaven. She couldn’t conceive of it her mind. It was impossible. Yet, Adam had lived it all. Would he not know better than she, a Heavenborn?

She snuggled in closer, her new arm a tad uncomfortable but just another learning curve she would conquer.

“In what way?” She wanted to ask. But she was not given the opportunity as the soft snores she heard coming from Adam shut down any further chance for questions tonight at least.

#staring at the sun #hazbin hotel fanfiction #guitarspear #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lute #adam x lute #lute x adam #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel #fanfiction #adam #lute hazbin hotel #hazbin lute #lute #hazbin adam

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xwritingdixonx · 9 months

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Till Death Do Us Part | Chapter 8 |

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series masterlist

Summary: Emotions run high after the death of Pete, causing many truths to be revealed.

Warnings: language (of course), mentions of cheating, mention of suicide

Word Count: aprox. 3k

Tags: @bigbaldheadname @daryldixcnswife @alanamarie @suniloli @fuseburner

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Words and insults threw themselves around the dining room. You were tired and angry but mostly irritated at the fact that that bastard's blood had splattered on your nightgown. "We are fucked!" Eddie spoke, matter of factly to Nellie, "We don't know that!" She argued back.

"Deanna is grieving. I doubt the first thing on her mind is kicking us out." Despite his anger towards what had been done to his boys, Tommy did his best to be reasonable. As he always has done.

You couldn't imagine the grief that surely engulfed Deanna. She had lost her son and husband in such a short span of time. You knew, had it been you, you would have gone mad already. You’d be tearing down the world and everything that stood in your way.

“I say we take Alexandria like how we wanted from the beginning. We could have it before the sun rises!”

Your eyes snapped to Eddie in an instant, disbelieving the way he just spat that out as if it was nothing.

You heard Daryl mutter a, what? from beside you. “Wait” Rick stepped forward with a sarcastic chuckle, “it’s been your plan this whole time?” Multiple yes’s we’re shouted at him at once, including your own. You had never watched a man shut his mouth so quickly. At least now he understood. He understand your fight for Alexandria, he understood the roles you played. He was just beginning to play checkers but you were already winning chess.

Standing from your seated position at the table, “We do nothing, we deal with what comes tomorrow.” You flashed everyone a hard stare, a knowing look, too exhausted for any insubordination. Your mind spiraled with thoughts and worries of the boys well-being, of Alexandria, of Daryl. Your body and mind ached for you to just simply rest. Dropping your mouth open to continue, you waved your hand in the air almost in a way to stop your own words. “No, I’m going to bed.”

You stood at the bathroom sink, only in your underwear, scrubbing with hot water the blood stains on the light silky fabric. The bathroom door was open halfway, allowing a stream of light into the dark bedroom. The sound of the bedroom door opening and closing pulled you from your task.

Using your foot to kick open the bathroom door completely, you watched Daryl take a seat on the edge of the bed, letting out a deep sigh when he hit the plush mattress. A sigh escaped your own lips, shutting off the sink as the hot water had begun to turn the undertones of your skin a burning red.

You hung the gown to dry and left the bathroom to your dresser, in need of new pajamas. “Hopefully the stains come out.” No response met your words. Daryl kept his back to you, head hung low while playing with his hands. Something was bothering him, you could feel it the second he entered the room. “It’s stupid to wear something like that now anyway. It just made feel pretty and-“

“Why are ya lyin’ to me?” Daryl disrupted your babbling words.

It made you freeze in your tracks, t shirt in hand.

“I’m not lying to you.” You slipped the t shirt over your head and closed the dresser drawer a tad harder than intended, causing some of the nick nacks on top to rattle. Daryl scoffed and adjusted his position so he was sat up in bed, back against the backboard.You chose to ignore his scoff and went to turn off the light in the bathroom. Though the room was now dark, the feeling stayed the same.

You plugged in the dim lamp on your nightstand, knowing you would have to go through a martial dispute before granting yourself the rest you desired.

You sat on your side on the bed, leaning your body over to him. “What am I lying about?” The room was dim but your eyes had adjusted enough to see the glare he gave you. “Been lyin’ since the start. You lied bout’ where you were before. Bout’ Alexandria. Bout’ yourself. Hell, feel like all the things i’m findin’ out ain’t even coming from you.”

“And what do you mean by that?” You could admit you’d lied. But did he even for a second think that perhaps your lies and secrets were because you weren’t ready to tell the truth?

Daryl hesitated. He was angry but what he wanted to say was irrational, it was a thought that had never crossed his mind before tonight. “What was Pete talking bout’?” Your eyebrows furrowed from confusion, “What do you mean D?” He once again hesitated.

“Luke said Pete was saying’ stuff bout’ Tommy and you. I saw the look on yer face, you knew what he was sayin’.” The hand you had placed lovingly on Daryl’s thigh retreated. Your posture straightened as your body seemed to recoil itself away from him. Almost like a turtle slipping back into its shell.

Daryl watched your movements, only feeding into the insecurity that was pounding at his chest. Daryl had always been insecure when it came to you. He never believed he deserved you. Always believed that someone smarter and more attractive would come along and swoop you away. It had been his greatest fear since day one.

“Are you trying to ask me if I fucked Tommy? My dead sister’s husband?”

With the tone of harshness you had presented the statement with, it made Daryl feel ashamed. Ashamed at the way he allowed his own insecurities to eat away at him. Ashamed that such an accusation like that could’ve even been made wether it was from him or the mouths of others.

“I don’t know.” Deep within him he knew it wasn’t true but the anxiety of you saying yes still remained.

You laughed. You laughed at him. He looked at you to confirm what his ears heard and surely you had a sad smile on your face. Tears welled in your eyes. You looked away from him as they began to fall.

“Me and Tommy have gotten close over these years, especially after Lizzie.” Your tone was thick with sadness. “It was just us and the boys on the road after Lizzie. I had to talk him out of following Lizzie so many times. Even had to stop him once.”

Those were some of the darkest days you had ever encountered.

“When we got to Alexandria, Tommy didn’t have a wife, I didn’t have a husband. I stayed around Tommy and the boys a lot at the beginning. They were who I felt safe with but….people talked.”

There were sobs growing within your chest, rising to your throat. “I’ve taken care of those boys as if they’re my own because that’s what Lizzie wanted. And I’ve been called the nastiest things for it.” It was a frustration and sadness you couldn’t begin to explain. You took a second to find a breath, wiping away tears. “So no. I have never fucked Tommy. I can't believe you'd let these fucking Alexandrians get in your head like that."

Daryl’s insecurities were now replaced with guilt. Such a sorrowing and decaying feeling.

“I’ve only lied to you because I know the truth is going to hurt you a lot more. Especially about where I was before Alexandria. I was…” You stopped when you saw the fearful tears prickling his eyes. “I was abused and humiliated.” He lowered his head, unable to look at you, never seen such sadness in your eyes before. “M’sorry. M’sorry.” He repeated as his guilt grew, eating away at his conscious. “It’s my fault. I left ya.”

You knew you were meant to be angry with him but the rise in your emotions demanded the comfort from him. And you wouldn’t let him sit and blame himself for the traumas you had endured.

You crawled to him, making room for yourself between his legs, resting your head on his chest. His arms wrapped themselves around you in an instant, pulling you closer. The simplicity of his body temperature was enough to comfort you. All the times this world had thrown you down and dragged you through the mud, this was the person you had spent your time crying out for.

“It wasn’t your fault.” You reassured, your hands running up his shirt and rubbing his bare skin for comfort. When there failed to be a response, you pulled away, only to look up and see the tears that silently fell down his cheeks. “It wasn’t your fault D.” You reached a hand up to rub the tears from staining his face. “I promise we’ll talk about it more. But please, go to bed with me?”

"Lizzie!" You grasped your sisters arm and yanked her away from the group of walkers that busted through the back door of the pharmacy. It was meant to be a simple trip into the pharmacy. Luke had been feeling under the weather due to the allergies in the Spring air.

If you could just find him some Aleve or Claritin, everyone would be put at ease with his health.

You rushed out of the pharmacy, slamming the door and placing back the crowbar that had been lodged in the door handle. Looking back, you should’ve taken it as a warning to stay away.

“You alright?” Lizzie had obviously been startled by the sudden disturbance of what was meant to be, an easy scavenge. Her eyes were still wide with shock but she nodded. “Come on, let’s go back to camp.” You playfully shoved her shoulder, holding up a very crushed box of Tylenol Cold and Flu pills in your hand. She laughed and snatched it from you following you back into the tree line.

Camp wasn’t exactly a place to call home. You had set up in the middle of a clearing in the woods, just by the edge of a small hill. Lizzie rubbed Luke’s back motherly as he sneezed over his can of soup. “It’s okay, sweet boy. Medicine should kick in shortly.” The sun was setting and you’d have to stuff out the fire soon so no one would see the light. Someone spotting the smoke worried you enough.

Lizzie slept as she always did, sandwiched in between her two boys. Providing them with her own body heat. “You and Henry gonna start cuddling too or?” You joked with Tommy as the two of you began setting up your own “beds”. Your joke earned a deep chuckle from the man. “Fortunately, Henry’s taking up watch duty tonight.”

Though you and Tommy had ended that night joking and picking on the other, the morning would put a stop to that for a long time.

You were awoken by a blood curdling scream. You scurried to stand to your feet before your mind was even fully awake. “Jace? Luke?” Your heart sank as you saw the scene before you. Luke hid behind Jace as Jace shoved Lizzie away. Tears streaming down both of their faces. But that wasn’t Lizzie, not with those awful sounds and movements.

“Boys come!” You shouted, only causing who was once your sister to turn to you. It was as if you froze, your hand was placed on the blade on your belt but you couldn’t grab it. It was her…only paler. And empty.

Bang!

Jumping at the sudden noise and the thud that followed, you turned your teary eyes to Tommy. His shaking hand still on the trigger. The shock of what he did froze him like that for a second. But the absolute agony hit him even faster. “What did I- What did I do?” He repeated between sobs.

You looked to Henry who, just like everyone, was in a great deal of shock.

It was the clicking of the pistol that pulled you from your own daze, “Tommy no!” There wasn’t any hesitation when you tackled the man down, sending both of you for a tumble down the side of the hill. You landed on a particularly large rock. The cracking sound you heard within your ribcage made every inch of your body shiver.

You laid there, clutching your side, trying to take in every breath of air as the wind had been knocked out of you on impact. You laid there staring up at the tree tops accepting the pain of your injury. For a second, there was peace. Though you knew you weren’t dying, you figured this would be the best way to go. Lying in nature, looking at the sky. And you wondered if Lizzie felt this peace just hours ago, laying with her boys, stargazing at the night sky. And you wondered if she knew.

When Henry brought you back up to camp and laid you down on your sleeping bag, you learned that she did know. The letter she had left you was tucked on the inside of the bag. You didn’t read it until you arrived at Alexandria two months later.

And within that letter gave you every reason to begin your plan in taking Alexandria. Wether you played a quick brutal game or a slow manipulative one, you were going to take care of her boys and keep them safe. Just like she wanted.

The morning came quicker than you hoped. When you awoke, it was plenty early enough to fall back asleep with time to spare. But the anxiety rush that awoke you in the first place surely wasn’t going to allow that. Not knowing if the place you called home, could be called home much longer was quite the alarm clock.

After you had dragged yourself from Daryl’s embrace, you forced yourself to get ready for what was to come.

The sun had yet to rise but the sky was a cool bluish gray, it seemed to fit the mood. There was a slight crisp in the air. Alluding to the fact that the fall months were going to begin shortly. It made you wish you had put on some sort of light jacket but you hoped the warmth from the mug in your hand would provide enough warmth.

It was too early for anyone else to be awake especially after last night. The streets were bare and empty, exempt for the pools of blood which stained the concrete outside of the Anderson home. You weren’t sure if that sight or the chilly morning air caused you to shiver.

You continued your walk until you got to your favorite spot in all of Alexandria. The small wooden bridge that overlooked the stream that led down into the pond. It was pushed back away from the road and the few trees and bushes kept it as hidden as possible. You leaned your elbows on the railing, blowing at the steam surfacing from your cup.

You’d bring the boys here to talk. You’d sit yourselves under the middle wood railing and let your feet dangle, almost touching the water below. Jace would sit on one side, Luke on the other. At the beginning of summer, you’d watch the frog eggs turn into tadpoles, and the tadpoles turn into frogs.

It's the strong smell of coffee that makes you fix your posture, standing up straight. You don't look at her but you know she's standing beside you. "Knew it was me?" Deanna asked. "You nodded in response. "Only two people I've ever known drink their coffee that strong. My mama...and you." Had it been any other day, she would've laughed but all you got back was silence.

"We're gonna have a funeral for them later today. If you'd like to come." You wanted to say you were sorry. That was what you were taught to do. Say sorry for your loss, attend the funeral, shed a few tears, and then go on. But Deanna didn't seem to be in the mood for sorry's or condolences. "I don't think that's a good idea."

A loud thud caused you to jump. It came from the wall that stood to your far right. It was followed by moans and groans that were louder than normal in the dead of the early morning. "What do you see when you look at them?" Now you looked at her, giving her an odd glare.

"You're around them more than I've ever been, what do you see?"

"Depends." You racked your brain trying to figure out if this was some elaborate question. Some sort of question to put your humanity to the test. "We, the living, see ourselves as so much better than them. But in reality, we're seconds away from being just like them." You watched as a frown formed on Deanna's face at those words. In an attempt to lighten the mood, "It is harder to be compassionate when they're trying to eat you of course."

It was small but you did see her lip almost turn into a smile. "Living behind these walls for all that time...never even imagined losing people. Especially not Reg." She looked away as she said his name, sorrow, and guilt flooding her face. She took a breath to compose herself, "That's not what a good leader does. They dont shelter their people so much that all they know is fear."

You weren't sure if there was a point to her rambling or if she just simply needed to vent to someone who would listen. So, you sipped your tea and awaited her continuation. "I'm sorry Y/n." You looked to her in an instant, not knowing what she was apologizing for. "I've been so stubborn when it comes to you...because I know you'll be a better ruler than I ever could've been."

"What?"

The sun began to peek over the walls of Alexandria, creating an ever-so-fitting glow on the scenery around you. "Reg saw it a long time ago. He believed in you. He wanted you to have Alexandria after both of us were gone. I was just too stubborn to listen."

Words couldn't seem to form themselves on your tongue though your mind ran quick. "What about Spencer? Aren't things like this supposed to be passed to your children."

Deanna scoffed at this. Had she been anymore dramatic about it, she would've spit out her coffee. "I don't even trust him with the liquor cabinet in the house." Though the truth behind the statement was dark, Deanna chuckled. There was a moment of silence as the both of you looked to the bright sun, feeling the rays on your morning skin.

Deanna reached for your free hand with hers. Her skin was drier with more fine lines than your soft smoothed hands. To you, it showed the years she lived, the sons she'd raised, and the man she'd loved with those very hands. "Promise me you'll do great things ?"

"I swear it."

Heir to Alexandria.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon series #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #the walking dead daryl #daryl x you #twd #twd daryl #daryl dixon #daryl dixon / reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon x reader #twd x reader #twd fanfiction

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chicgeekgirl89 · 23 days

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Read Chapter 8 on AO3!

Carlos has never hated his condo more in his entire life. Why did he pick so much grey when he decorated this place? And black? And beige? He’d thought it was sleek and modern at the time. Now that he’s stuck here recovering he feels like he’s trapped inside the pages of a newspaper.

He hates to admit it, but he kind of misses his mom and his sisters. It took a week for them to start leaving him alone again. Considering his sisters both live more than an hour away, they’d done an admirable job tag teaming coming into town to pester him and make him eat his vegetables and take his supplements. He’d been relieved at first to have some space, but now he’s so bored he’d take their nagging again in a heartbeat.

T.K. had come by with the supplements as promised, but Carlos hadn’t seem him because he’d been sleeping and his mom had refused to wake him up. He’d been annoyed when she’d told him, especially because T.K. had left two days later for New York. And without a cellphone Carlos has had no way to communicate with him at all.

His new phone finally shows up halfway through his second week of recovery. When the doorbell rings to announce the delivery driver, Carlos whips it open so fast he scares the shit out of the guy and has to apologize.

It takes three tries to get it set up and he almost throws it against a wall and smashes it all over again in frustration. But then it finally comes life and he’s relieved to find that all his contacts populate back into place automatically. He won’t need T.K.’s post it note after all.

The first thing he does is send him a text.

Carlos

[2:35pm] How’s New York?

T.K.

[2:36pm] Sorry, who is this?

Carlos

[2:37pm] Haha very funny. I’m the one whose phone broke, not you. And my number is the same.

T.K.

[2:38pm] Sir, I’m very sorry about your broken phone, but you have the wrong number.

Carlos snaps a selfie of his frowning face and sends it. The response comes back seconds later.

T.K.

[2:40pm] Still no idea.

Carlos sighs and unbuttons his shirt, then snaps another selfie.

T.K.

[2:43pm] Ooooooooh, hey Carlos. How’s it going?

Carlos

[2:45pm] You’re such an ass.

T.K.

[2:45pm] *smirk emoji*

[2:46pm] New York is fine. My favorite Thai place closed. But I’m finally eating decent bagels again.

[2:46pm] How are you? Stitches driving you crazy yet?

Carlos

[2:47pm] God yes. They hurt. And they itch. I want to rip them all out.

T.K.

[2:48pm] I can’t recommend that.

[2:49pm] Your mom and sisters still around?

Carlos

[2:50pm] They have finally decided that I can be left alone for several hours at a time. Thank god.

[2:51pm] How’s your mom? I’m sure she’s happy to have her favorite son home.

T.K.

[2:52pm] Lol yeah she’s happy. Actually, I need to get ready to go. We’re seeing Wicked tonight. It’s her favorite.

Carlos

[2:53pm] A classic. Have fun Defying Gravity.

T.K.

[2:54pm] The Texas boy knows his musicals. I’m impressed.

Carlos

[2:55pm] It’s Texas, not the moon.

Their texting is sporadic over the next week. T.K. is busy, and with the time change it makes it hard to send more than a couple texts before one of them is needed somewhere else.

It’s crazy how much he misses someone he’s only spent about twenty total minutes of time with. His texts with T.K. have become such a safe space. He feels seen and heard when they talk. Not having that and being forced to stay home for days on end makes him realize how lonely he’s been the last few years.

He’s also bored out of his freaking mind. His stitches come out after two weeks and he’s allowed to return to light duty at work, which is a good distraction as he eagerly counts down the days to his date with T.K. like a kid waiting for Christmas.

When the day finally arrives he is a mess of nerves. He changes clothes three times before settling on a green shirt, jeans, and a pair of boots.

In a burst of creativity he’d suggested a honky-tonk for their first date. It seemed appropriate that T.K. get a strong reintroduction to Texas culture after being back in New York for so long and T.K. had eagerly agreed.

Carlos pulls up to the honky-tonk ten minutes early and grips the steering wheel tightly, sucking in deep breaths. This is going to be great. They’ve waited so long. The universe has to finally throw them a bone tonight, right?

…not THAT kind of bone. Although…he wouldn’t say no. In fact he would say a very enthusiastic yes. The thought of T.K.’s lithe body in his hands…

There’s a tap on his window that scares the shit out of him and immediately douses his lust fueled imaginings. Mischievous green eyes peer at him through the window and he pushes the door open, unfolding himself until he’s standing in front of T.K. Strand.

“Hi,” he says, aware that he has a very stupid smile on his face.

“Hi,” T.K. says. “You looked like you were pretty deep in thought in there.”

His face flames. “Just um, thinking.” He blows out a breath and takes in the cute little patterned button down T.K. is wearing. “You look great.”

He smells incredible too, like he’s just been in the shower. There’s a silver chain glinting around his neck in the lights of the parking lot and Carlos longs to find out where it disappears to underneath his shirt.

Fuck. He has got to get control of himself.

“You look nice too,” T.K. says, biting his lip.

Carlos wonders if he’s having similarly lusty thoughts. He hopes so. “Is this really happening?” Carlos asks. “There’s no injuries or work things getting in the way this time?”

“Not a thing,” T.K. says, taking a step closer. “Just you and me. On a date. For real.” He taps a finger against Carlos’ chest. “Lead the way officer.”

Carlos holds out a hand and when T.K. takes it he feels like his heart might explode.

They step inside the honky-tonk to a whirl of sound and color. The place is already jumping, busy on a Friday night, and Carlos has half a second of doubt. Maybe they should have gone somewhere quieter. But one look at T.K.’s face, his eyes bright with excitement, tells him this was a good choice. T.K. Strand is clearly here for a good time.

“Do you want something to drink?” Carlos asks as they head toward the bar. “Club soda?”

“Shirley Temple?” T.K.’s eyes twinkle. “I’m feeling festive.”

Carlos laughs. “Shirley Temple it is. Do you want to try and find us a table?”

“On it.” He disappears into the crowd as Carlos maneuvers himself to the bar.

It takes forever to get the drinks and the bartender gives him a weird look when he orders the Shirley Temple. It makes him wonder if that was T.K.’s strategy all along: to make him feel awkward in front of a stranger as a cute little joke. It feels like something he might do. He’s for sure a tease.

He finally grabs hold of both their drinks, then searches the crowd for T.K., spotting him standing next to a table across the room. He carefully slips through the crowd, struggling to keep the drinks level. “Hey,” he says when he gets close. “Did you find us a spot?”

T.K. turns around an odd expression on his face. “I’m so sorry,” he says.

Carlos’ heart plummets and cold sweat breaks out on the back of his neck. Is T.K. chickening out? Did he not want to come here in the first place? He’d seemed so happy on their way in, what could have—

“I didn’t know they’d be here,” T.K. says, shifting to the side and revealing a table full of people.

Carlos catches sight of a face he knows. “Oh, Paul, right?” he says.

“Yeah, hey Carlos. Good to see you again,” Paul says.

“Carlos, this is my team,” T.K. says. “Meet the 126.”

He introduces them and Carlos gets to put faces to the names he’s learned over the last month and a half. Mateo, Marjan, and Judd all smile and wave casually, but there’s an oddly eager energy to the group that makes Carlos wonder exactly how much T.K. has told them about what’s going on between the two of them.

“Well here, grab a seat,” Judd says as they all scoot around to make room in the booth they’ve claimed.

T.K. looks at him and turns his back on the group so they can’t hear. “We don’t have to sit with them.”

Carlos smiles. “It’s fine. Really,” he insists when T.K. doesn’t look convinced. “They’re your friends. And it’s pretty full in here anyway.”

The booth is already crowded and they have to sit very close together to fit. T.K.’s thigh presses into Carlos’ and he has to work very hard to keep his mind on track and in the moment. “Soooo,” Mateo says, wiggling his eyebrows, “is this finally the big date?”

Marjan smacks him. “Shut up probie!”

“What?” he asks, offended. “It is right? T.K.’s been talking about it for weeks.”

Carlos feels a laugh bubble up deep inside him and has to swallow it back down. T.K. may not have been raised with any siblings, but it’s obvious that his teammates are enthusiastically fulfilling that role in his life.

“I haven’t been talking about it for weeks,” T.K. says, taking a sip of his drink, his cheeks a touch pink despite the calmness of his tone.

“Yes you have,” Judd says immediately.

“I have not!”

“You really have,” Paul says.

T.K. glares at them. “I hate all of you.”

“Mmm be careful,” Marjan says, her eyes lighting with teasing. “We’ve got a lot of dirt on you T.K. So many things Carlos could learn tonight…”

“Like the time he backed the engine into the side of the garage,” Mateo says.

“Or the time he swore he could run around the entire building in under a minute, tripped over his own two feet, and fell face first into the asphalt,” Judd says.

“Or,” Paul says, “the time—“

“Okay, that’s enough!” T.K. declares. He pushes against Carlos, trying to make him slide back out of the booth. “Let’s go, we’re leaving.”

“No, no come on!” The protests from the group are genuine and full of laughter and T.K. settles back into his seat.

“You’re all just jealous that I have a date and none of you do,” T.K. says, affecting a superior tone.

“Hey I got a permanent date,” Judd says. “She’s just working tonight.”

“Judd’s wife Grace is a 911 dispatcher,” T.K. explains.

“Nice,” Carlos says. “That’s a tough job.”

“She was made for it,” Judd says proudly.

T.K.’s friends are great. They laugh and joke and talk with ease, including him in the conversation like he’s always been part of the group. Judd buys another round for the table and then they get some appetizers to share. It’s not exactly the date Carlos had in mind, but it’s good nonetheless.

T.K. is snarky and fun; everything he does is charming and adorable. If Carlos wasn’t already completely besotted, he definitely is now.

It’s ridiculous how comfortable it all feels. Like this is the most normal thing in the world. Like they’ve done it a thousand times instead of just one.

A little voice in his mind whispers that this is all he’s ever wanted. To feel like this. He’s craved this type of casual intimacy in his life and it’s surreal to finally be experiencing it.

“Oh my god, I love this song!” Marjan says, shoving Paul so she can get out of the booth. “Come on! Let’s go dance!”

The rest of the group follows her, leaving T.K. and Carlos alone. “I really am sorry,” T.K. says. “If I’d known they were going to be here I would have—“

“T.K. it’s fine,” Carlos soothes, placing a hand on T.K.’s knee under the table and squeezing gently. “I picked the place. And they’re nice. I’m having a good time.”

He moves his thumb back and forth over the fabric of T.K.’s jeans without even thinking about it and something in T.K.’s eyes lights up. “Wanna dance?”

He looks T.K. up and down, his face twisting into a delighted smile. “Yeah.”

They stand and T.K. grabs his hand, pulling him toward the dance floor where dozens of other people are starting up a rowdy two-step country dance. “Do you know how to do this?” Carlos asks as they join the throng.

“Not a clue.” T.K. sticks his tongue out and wiggles his eyebrows comically, making Carlos laugh.

“Copy me,” Carlos tells him, turning around so T.K.’s behind him and can follow his moves.

He’s actually not half bad. He’s not exactly half great either, but he bops along easily enough, at least from what Carlos can tell every time he turns around and catches a glimpse of him. It’s a little graceless, T.K. is all bouncy fun, like a puppy, but it’s pretty cute and he doesn’t run into anyone or step on any toes.

The next dance requires a partner, so Carlos turns around to face T.K. and watches in amusement as T.K. does the required shimmy to one side and then the other. “Not bad for a New Yorker,” he calls over the noise of the crowd and the music.

“Hey, I’ll have you know that I was the life of the party at every bat and bar mitzvah I ever went to,” T.K. says.

“I believe it.”

He leans close, his breath warm on the side of Carlos’ neck. “But you know, the real reason I wanted to come out here was to watch your ass move around in those jeans.”

Desire, hot and strong pours through him. It must show on his face because T.K. cocks his head to the side, his eyes dropping to Carlos’ lips like he’s having the same kind of feelings.

“And? What’s the verdict?” Carlos asks, feeling a little light headed. All the blood in his head is quickly rushing somewhere else.

“I think…” T.K. meets his eyes and purses his lips in exaggerated, fake thought. “It’s a pretty spectacular ass.”

The room is crowded, there are people bumping up against them, but Carlos is so intensely focused on T.K. he barely notices. This feeling, this want, this ache of desire has been building for so many weeks and if he doesn’t do something about it soon, he might explode.

As if T.K. senses this he reaches for Carlos’ hand and begins pulling him through the crowd. God help him, Carlos doesn’t have the strength to stop him and the next thing he knows they’re moving down the small, dark hallway that leads to the bathroom. It’s obvious what’s going to happen next and Carlos is weak as fuck because he’s going to let it.

T.K. shoves the door open, thank god it’s an individual bathroom and no one is inside. Carlos flips the lock and the second he turns around T.K. is on him, hands grabbing his hips for leverage as he crushes their mouths together.

Carlos sees fireworks. They explode throughout his body wherever T.K. touches him, fizzing and popping and taking his breath away. His own hands come up, one of them cradling the back of T.K.’s neck, pulling him closer, while the other clings onto his bicep for support just in case his knees go weak from lack of oxygen.

T.K. opens his mouth and Carlos doesn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, sighing into it as their tongues slide together, hot and wet and so much better than Carlos has imagined in his shower fantasies. T.K. tastes sweet from his drink, cherries and sugar, and it only makes Carlos even more desperate to drink him in.

He reaches for the top button on T.K.’s shirt, needing to touch him, needing to feel the softness of his skin underneath his fingers. He manages five of them in record time, an amazing feat considering he’s only going by feel since he can’t stop kissing T.K. long enough to look. He shoves a hand inside the fabric to wrap around T.K.’s ribcage and pull him even closer.

T.K. huffs a laugh into his mouth and Carlos grins into it their kiss. This is crazy. He’s never felt so reckless. So free. He loves it. It’s like T.K. has unlocked a part of himself he didn’t even realize he’d hidden away.

He pulls back, barely taking a breath before nipping at T.K.’s earlobe and then scraping his teeth down his neck. T.K. makes a sound that goes straight to Carlos’ dick and then ruts his hips forward into Carlos, causing more stars to explode behind Carlos’ eyelids.

His hand fists into the back of Carlos’ shirt, pulling it tight and Carlos takes that as his cue to keep going, following the line of T.K.’s collarbone with his tongue, pressing a kiss into the hollow at the base of his throat.

His plan is to continue working his way across T.K.’s chest, but T.K. has other ideas, grabbing his face and hauling him back up into another bruising kiss before his hands find Carlos’ belt. The second he gets it undone he starts to drop to his knees, but Carlos grabs his arm, keeping him upright.

“The floor is filthy,” Carlos says.

T.K. looks at him like he’s crazy. “I have done this in much dirtier places Carlos,” he says, trying to go down again.

The thought makes Carlos sick to his stomach and he grips T.K.’s arm more firmly, refusing to let him move. “But you don’t have to,” he says gently, but firmly.

He knows T.K.’s past. He knows how he’s been used and treated like garbage, and he is never, ever going to treat him that way. T.K. doesn’t exist for Carlos’ pleasure. They’re not starting their relationship this way. Making out is one thing. Forcing T.K. to his knees on a disgusting bathroom floor is another.

T.K. takes a step back looking hurt and confused. “Are you saying you don’t want—“

“No, I definitely do,” Carlos says quickly. “I just…not here. I don’t know if other guys made you feel like that’s all you were good enough for but you deserve better than a dirty bathroom floor T.K.

The guarded look in T.K.’s eyes goes soft and his body relaxes again. “You’re really sweet. You know that?”

Carlos blushes. Which is crazy since this man just had his tongue in his mouth and was about to put it somewhere else much more intimate. “I want this to be a partnership,” he says. “I’m not using you T.K. I want you.”

T.K. crowds up against him and kisses him again, gently this time, his fingers cradling Carlos’ face. “You’re one a million Carlos Reyes,” he says when he pulls back. His smile turns mischievous. “Fine. I won’t kneel on the dirty floor.”

“Good,” Carlos says. “I don’t need you to.”

“But,” T.K. says, his hands sliding down Carlo’s chest, “there are plenty of other things I can do just fine standing up.”

Before Carlos can protest T.K. has undone the button and zipper on his jeans, his hand teasing along waistband of Carlos’ boxer briefs before sliding inside. Carlos’ head slams back against the door, a sound ripping from his throat that he’s never made before in his entire life. All thoughts of germs or bathroom floors or anything other than the feel of T.K. taking hold of him are immediately driven from his mind.

He’s brought back to reality all too soon by a series of sharp knocks on the door just behind his head.

T.K. withdraws his hand. “Be out in a minute,” he calls, then bites his lip, studying Carlos’ face. “Well that was fun.”

Carlos swallows, trying to find his voice again as T.K. turns and heads for the sink. “Uh huh,” is all he manages to get out.

T.K. chuckles. “I’ll take it that’s a five star rating?”

“Yes. Definitely,” he says, finally regaining enough presence of mind to start zipping up his jeans as T.K. redoes his own shirt buttons.

The knocks sound again, more insistent this time. “We should um…do you want to get out of here?” Carlos asks, his brain soaked in lust fueled dopamine. He’s not nearly done with what they’ve started.

“Eh, I don’t know. It’s kind of nice in here,” T.K. jokes, looking around.

“T.K. Do you want to come back to my place?” Carlos says, too far gone to play games right now.

T.K. kisses him, chastely this time. “Yes,” he says. “I do.”

He opens the bathroom door and Carlos tries not to make eye contact with the person who was waiting outside. They’ve nearly made it down the hallway when they bump into Paul. “I was wondering where y’all went,” he says.

“Just taking a little break,” T.K. says easily, while Carlos squirms internally.

Paul’s eyes travel over the two of them, a knowing smirk growing on his face. “Your buttons are done up wrong,” he says, nodding toward T.K.’s shirt.

“Are they?” T.K. glances down, but doesn’t fix them. “Huh. Wonder how that happened?”

“Mmm, I could hazard a guess,” Paul says.

Carlos’ face is on fire and he tries desperately not to fidget. He has no idea how T.K. can act so calm and innocent. Even in in the dim light of the hallway he knows everything about them screams ‘bathroom hookup.’

“So Carlos and I are going to head out,” T.K. says, still nonchalant.

“Oh are you? Do you need a ride home or anything?” Paul asks, still playing the game T.K. is crafting.

“I think we’ve got it covered,” T.K. tells him.

“Uh huh, I’m sure you do. Nice seeing you again Carlos,” he says.

“It was nice to see you too,” Carlos manages, his voice sounding a little strained in his own ears.

“Don’t get into too much trouble!” Paul calls after them, amusement coloring his voice.

“Well that was embarrassing,” Carlos says when they finally make it outside.

“Paul won’t say anything,” T.K. says. “Not to anyone else. He’ll tease me about it forever. But I don’t care. It was worth it.”

“Was it?” Carlos asks as they reach the Camaro.

T.K.’s eyes are bright even in the darkened parking lot. “Definitely.”

#Tarlos #911 Lone Star #Thirst Trap Thursday #911lsfic #Tarlos Fic

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 4 months

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Damage Gets Done - SAS: Rogue Heroes x OC - Chapter 9

Summary: As the group returns from the raid on Benghazi, Diana is forced to confront the secrets she's kept from Paddy

Relationships: L Detachment x Platonic!OC, eventual Reg Seekings x OC

Warnings: Language, mentions of death, angst

Word Count: 2.5k

Tags: @20th-centu-fairy-girl @trenchenjoyer @dcyllom @footprintsinthesxnd @regseekings

A/N: Sorry this one's a little shorter than usual! I was originally going to include this part at the end of the previous chapter, but it got too long so I decided to separate them. Enjoy!

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Exhaustion tugged at Diana's eyelids as the jeeps rolled into their rendezvous point, the familiar figure of Mike Sadler lounging tiredly beneath a makeshift shelter, shielding his eyes from the sun as he watched them approach. She was jolted sharply awake by the sudden ceasing of the engine's constant hum, a noise she had grown accustomed to over the past few hours, and hurried to re-button her shirt, her makeshift camouflage now nothing more than a frankly embarrassing memory.

But Mike was not the only figure awaiting their arrival. Over by the car stood a woman, dressed sharply with a pair of designer sunglasses to shield herself from the glaring light. Diana suddenly recalled her first day in the SAS camp - had she truly looked as out of place then as this woman did now? The idea almost embarrassed her. But the woman's presence immediately raised a million questions in her mind - questions none of the gawking men around her seemed to share.

Men. Pathetic.

"There's a rumour going around in Cairo that Winston Churchill's son went on a mission behind enemy lines with the SAS," The woman spoke, fanning herself with the brim of her hat as she approached. Scanning Stirling's face, Diana could tell he recognised her. Actually, the more she looked, she wasn't entirely sure she didn't recognise the woman.

On her right, Reg let out a low whistle, staring unashamedly at their new visitor. Diana raised a brow, shooting him a disapproving look, which he didn't seem to notice. That stung. That stung far more than she had expected, and that was... concerning. She wasn't supposed to give a shit when fucking Reg Seekings of all people looked at another woman like that.

But he'd looked at her like that. And maybe she'd been stupid enough to think she was the only one who got that look. Maybe she even cared that she wasn't.

And the more she stood there, the more she was sure she had seen this woman before. "Sorry-" Diana interjected, suddenly realising the others had been halfway through a conversation when the entire group's gazes fell upon her. "Have you been in my house?"

"I have," She nodded, a slight smile curling her lip. "I've spoken with your father on a few occasions - he's one of the only senior officers I can count on to stay in one place."

Diana smiled, nodding. That was her father alright - a nester if ever she'd seen one. He'd lived in Cairo all her life, but she wasn't confident he could navigate beyond the end of their street. The woman held out her hand, and she received in, introducing themselves in turn. She could feel Churchill's gaze boring into the back of her skull, and could tell he was irritated at his meeting with yet another good-looking woman being interrupted.

As her hand was released, she sidestepped towards the Prime Minister's son. "Chin up, Randy. 0 for 2 isn't too bad when we're both out of your league," Diana spoke with a tone of mock sympathy. "I'm sure there'll be a whole fleet of boring little posh-o's with a history of inbreeding in the family for you to choose from once you get home."

He looked nothing short of horrified, face turning bright red, visible even under the layer of sunburn. She let out a snort, patting him on the shoulder and turning away. Making the man squirm was one of the small joys in life, and Diana cherished her chances.

But when she turned, the sight before her almost stopped her in her tracks. Reg had since discarded his shirt, arms raised in a not-so-subtle attempt to show off his muscular build as he continued to stare blatantly at Eve, giving Diana not so much as a second glance. Before her mind had quite had time to register whether her actions were altogether reasonable, she had reached down, grateful for the loose laces on her boot as she tugged it off. Standing awkwardly on one foot so as not to fill her sock with sand, she took a swing and lobbed the shoe straight at Seekings, striking him in the side.

It had not been a hard throw, but enough to elicit a yelp from the man, who stared back at her with an expression of equal parts outrage and confusion.

"What the fuck-?"

"Put your fucking shirt back on," Diana frowned. "Making us look bad, ya creep."

"Fucking Christ," Reg muttered, rummaging for a replacement shirt as he eyed her remaining boot with unease.

"And give me my shoe back," She demanded, leg raised like some kind of enraged flamingo. Seeking chuckled, shaking his head in a wordless reply, holding her boot by the laces as he began to walk further out of her reach.

"Reg? Reg?" Diana prompted, gesturing dramatically at her bare foot as Cooper noticed the situation, beginning to laugh along. Eve, along with Stirling and Churchill, had moved far enough away to continue their business without being disturbed, but she found she had little choice other than to hop after him, suddenly regretting her impulsive act of aggression.

"Oh, you shit," She called, tearing off her remaining shoe with as much zeal as she had the first, throwing the second with greater force as it collided with Reg's back. If it had hurt, he hadn't shown it, for he was too amused at the sight of her standing there in her socks upon the sand, already grimacing at the feeling of it between her toes.

"Well, what are you gonna do now?" Seekings laughed, the corners of his eyes creasing as he held out the shoes to her like she were some dog failing at fetch.

"Fuck!" Diana cried, her dismayed expression suddenly turning to a grin as Cooper swooped in from behind, snatching the boots from Reg's grip in the second that he was caught off guard. She gasped, chuckling at Seekings' stricken expression as he tossed them over, scrambling to catch them before they hit the sandy ground below.

"Johnny, my darling, someday you'll make some girl very happy," She said, craning her leg at an awkward angle as she tugged the thick leather back over her heels. Cooper batted a hand at her, wordlessly wandering off, but she noticed a spattering of red across his cheeks accompanying his boyish grin. Reg frowned, turning around and almost walking straight into a jeep when Diana smirked back at him.

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For the remainder of the trip back to Jalo, Diana kept her feet propped up on the dashboard beside Stirling, attempting to get the sand out of her socks. He complained frequently, but in the months they had known each other David had long since grown accustomed to her complete disregard for what he did or didn't want her to do. Frankly, he was just glad she wasn't driving.

"You're flicking sand on me," He droned, eyes on the horizon as they led the small convoy behind them.

"You're annoying," Diana retorted, shaking out one of her socks as she flexed her toes, making him grimace.

"Very mature, thank you."

"You're welcome," She replied sweetly, and he caught a glimpse of her smile in the crooked rearview mirror. Dammit. No matter what she did, he could never quite hold a grudge. Stirling found himself wondering if he would have liked to have had a sister growing up. Although, he wasn't sure he could have coped living with Diana every day, especially not in the more petulant days of his youth.

It was silent for a long moment, but he could feel her gaze boring into the side of his face. "Whatever you're about to do, don't."

The sudden feeling of her finger in his ear made Stirling yelp, and Diana let out a loud snort, laughter erupting like a bubble from her throat. "Stop acting like a child or I swear I'll crash this jeep," He barked, attempting to sound authoritative but sounding altogether far too alarmed, succeeding only in making her laugh harder.

"You think the pair of us dying in a horrible crash is an appropriate punishment for that?"

"I'll probably enjoy it the same amount," David stated, beginning to chuckle himself as Jalo came into view up ahead. "Do not tell the others you just did that," He sighed.

"Think it'll undermine your authority, eh?"

"I find you do little else, Diana," Stirling smiled sarcastically at her, pulling up the handbrake as they rolled to a stop outside the oasis.

She grinned, taking her feet off the dashboard and straightening up as the pair got out of the car, matching frowns tugging at their expressions as they noticed the new French troops lounging about in the sun chairs, flipping through newspapers and sipping on their booze.

"What the fuck..." Stirling muttered.

"They're definitely supposed to be training," Diana pointed out.

Beginning to march up the sandy slope towards the gaping hole in the wall they used as an entrance, Stirling called back to her over his shoulder. "You're in charge for the next thirty seconds until I get back."

Planting her hands on her hips, she let out a snort. "Promotion. Nice."

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By the time he returned, blustering and pissed off, Diana had taken to staring at the tent pitched just beyond the boundaries of their little territory, the canvas blowing slightly in the breeze, a recently shot gazelle strung up over a wooden frame like the hunting trophies her father used to collect.

She hadn't even had to ask what the situation was when Stirling returned - if she knew anything at all about Paddy, she could figure this one out. "He's not done shit since we left, has he?"

"What he has done is break bones, knock out teeth, and almost inspire a fucking mutiny," He fumed, brushing past her as he made an angered beeline for Mayne's tent. At the feeling of her hand grasping his shoulder he stopped, turning to look irritably back at her. "What?"

"I'll go. He doesn't like either of us but he respects me more than he does you."

Stirling raised a brow. "Are you sure about that?"

"In fairness, it's a low bar," She nodded, patting him on the shoulder before taking his place in the march towards Paddy Mayne's makeshift sanctuary.

In the dim light of the tent, he lay down on his bunk, book propped up against his chest as he read in silence. He somehow looked even worse than he had the last time she saw him, covered in dirt and dust, his hair greasy and his beard matted. Diana didn't bother waiting for an invitation, grunting as she crouched down to sit on the floor, stealing the half-empty bottle of whiskey from beside his bed.

Paddy hadn't looked up from his book when he spoke. "So. How'd it go."

"Blew up a car," She spoke, pulling out the cork with her teeth. "Tore a hole through a building, probably killed a dozen men, didn't stay to find out. Beat up a guy in an alley though - scratched his eyes so bad he couldn't see."

He let out a grunt that could've almost been a laugh, putting the book down, open against his stomach. "Buildings don't count for the tally."

"You know I never gave a fuck about that," Diana shrugged, taking a sip of the whiskey. "I do care about this though," She gestured to the tent around them. "About you not doing your job - beating the shit out of those French wankers."

"They deserved it."

"Fucking probably, doesn't mean you get to do it. D'you think I'd be here if I broke the ribs of everyone I met who deserved it? They'd give me the fucking death penalty," She chuckled, almost passing the bottle back to Mayne before rethinking it.

He smiled then, a sliver of teeth showing. After a pause, Paddy spoke. "Why'd Stirling send you, then? Scared to deal with his own problems as usual."

"He was gonna come - I stopped him. Figured you and I could have a more productive conversation."

"And why the fuck did you think that?"

"Because, unlike Stirling, I don't feel threatened by you."

"Oh, bullshit, yes you do."

Diana's brow furrowed, her frown creasing her cheeks. "No. I don't."

Paddy's head lolled to the side, his gaze finally meeting hers. "Then why won't you talk about Eoin?"

She almost choked, a held breath stoppering her throat and making her feel the need to gag. No one had mentioned Eoin's name to her, not since it had happened. Those that had been there knew what she'd been through and left it alone. Those that hadn't didn't know enough to ask her about it. Until now.

"You don't need to know about what happened to Eoin," Diana spoke, her voice meek, barely above a whisper.

His brow furrowed angrily. "You don't get to fuckin' tell me what I do or don't need to-"

"No, no!" She pushed, holding up a hand to silence him. "Let me speak. What I mean is you - specifically you - don't need what happened to him stuck in your head..." In the dim light of the tent, Paddy could still spot the beginning of a tear welling in her eyes. "I know what you went looking for out in the dunes, Paddy, and I know you didn't find it."

He sucked in a sharp breath, the air hissing as it was dragged through the gap in his teeth. "I think you should leave now."

"I didn't tell you about what happened because I blamed myself. And I was scared of what would happen if you did too."

No one spoke for a long time, the desert wind whistling through the gaps in the canvas, the open tent flap swinging back and forth with a repetitively smacking sound as it collided with the outside. The whiskey bottle was tucked between Diana's knees, but she didn't reach for it.

"Weren't your fault." He uttered. She looked up at him with those big, brown, sad eyes of hers, and he almost wanted to hit her. Paddy had never known how to deal with sad people. "Maybe you'll never tell me what happened, but-"

"One day I will."

"But, I know it wasn't your fault."

Diana sniffed, wiping a stray tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. "Yeah," She nodded. "Yeah... thank you."

Paddy nodded, picking up his book and resuming his reading. She almost laughed, pushing herself up onto her feet.

"Y'know... you're gonna have to apologise to the French."

"Oh, fuck off - you know I won't."

Diana chuckled. "I do. But now I can tell Stirling that I told you to, so it's not my fault when you don't."

The corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk. She turned to leave, pausing in the opening of the tent. "Oi."

"Aye?"

"... Wanna go cook the gazelle?"

Paddy took a long pause, thinking this over. After a prolonged moment of silence, he tossed the book aside, pushing himself to sit up with a grunt.

"May as well. Not giving that Jordan prick any, though."

She smiled. "We'll see."

#sas rogue heroes #sas rogue heroes fic #sas rogue heroes oc #david stirling #paddy mayne #reg seekings #reg seekings x oc #johnny cooper #eve mansour #sas: rogue heroes fic #sas: rogue heroes #oc: diana #fic | damage gets done

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c0la-queen · 10 days

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Set the World on Fire | Chapter 1

Summary: Reader unknowingly sets off a series of events that will change her - and the world - forever.

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: Violence, minor Reader injury

Note: Finally got Chapter 1 done, I'm so sorry this took so long! I'm sorry if this feels rambling-ish to some of you, but I really like how it turned out. Establishes a lot of physical and technical world-building for the base. Also I promise the next chapter will have more Red Leader!! I hope you enjoy, mwah mwah!!

Two years later…

You sighed softly as you walked through the halls, accompanied only by your footsteps. Your boots gave an unyielding click, click, click against the concrete floors. The frigid air seeped in through the walls, making you yearn for your warm bed.

A week at the main Red Army base was not enough to get used to how different it was. Especially compared to the smaller base you had been in - the same base that had found you after the attack. There, everyone was close. It took maybe 5 minutes to walk from one side of the base to the other. You were a little family that all stuck together. The mess hall maybe had three to five full tables every meal shift. Soldiers could call out to someone on the other side of the room to banter, and everyone present would laugh. Promotions were few between and celebrated by everyone with drinks and a special dinner. You all supported each other. The size and bond reminded you of a graduating class of seniors.

But if that base was a graduating class, the main base was an entire high school. There were soldiers who had been living in the base that couldn't tell you the names of more than 10-20 of their peers. You were sure that even if you ran for 5 minutes, you would only make it halfway across the base. There was an air of competition between everyone - not the good kind, but a sort of hostile tension between everyone to climb the ranks as fast as possible. During meal shifts, you would be lucky to find a seat in the mess hall unless someone specifically saved you one. You'd have to nearly yell just to hear the person across from you over the chatter in the room. You felt isolated and outnumbered.

It felt like ironically interesting commentary on human behavior and how its affected by population size.

You felt a yawn fight its way from your lips, the corners of your eyes stinging from drowsiness. You were on a late night patrol shift, which almost all soldiers dreaded. All privates had to log a specific amount of night patrol hours every month, given in a specific schedule. Night patrols consisted of 4 groups every shift, each one located at one of the main entrances to the base. The first shift started at 8 pm sharp, right when the last dinner ends. Shifts change twice every night - once at 1 pm and once at 6 am. It could get boring after a short while, simply walking up and down the well-worn length of the base perimeter, waiting for something interesting to happen. The winter months were the worst - the base was only mildly warm even during the height of the summer, but winter was by far harsher than most of the soldiers were used to. Several layers of clothes were needed just to get through the 5 hour shifts. Various ways of coping were used around the base by all privates; hand warmers, thermoses full of hot drinks, balaclavas, extra layering, etc. If it exists, the Red Army privates have tried it.

Not having to do night patrols was a huge motivator for privates to get a promotion.

You were lucky enough to have been given the first shift that night - it was 1:30 am, and the second shift had just swapped out with you. After your supervisor gave you the approval, you were released. Exhaustion dragging deep in your bones, you were ready to simply peel your outer clothes off and pass out in your bed in your tank top and panties. Despite the shared dislike of having to do patrols, you couldn't help but admire how organized the main base was. Red Leader's constant presence meant that every single thing was designed to be as smooth as possible. He was constantly criticized by his enemies for being a cruel, cold-hearted monster, but that never quite fit in your mind. The main base was the biggest target for attacks, raids, and other things, but it was by far the safest Red Army base across Europe.

How could a man be a monster when he personally ensured that his soldiers were safe and cared for in the place that they called home?

A noise drew you out of your thoughts. It was faint, but it was hard to miss in the silence of the halls. Voices. Whispers bleeding out into the empty halls from a small distance ahead of you. The halls were in "Night Mode" - an automatic setting that kicked in at 9 pm, shutting off the main overhead lights and switching to soft strip lights along the edges of the floors and ceiling. It was meant to be enough light to easily navigate through the hallways while not being so bright that it disturbs soldiers' sleep. One of Red Leader's many personal mechanics installed around the base to improve everyone's daily life. That peaceful light was interrupted by the harsh light of a nearby room that poured into the halls from an open door.

You stopped a short distance from the door when you noticed the shadows of two people cast along the floors. Part of you wanted to dismiss it as two soldiers simply out of their quarters past curfew, doing a piss-poor job of not getting caught. But something told you not to jump to conclusions. A swirling feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach at the sight of the shadows. Prey instincts pressed against the forefront of your brain, telling you stay quiet. stay out of sight. do not be seen. Deciding to heed these instincts, you slowed your breathing, listening to the whispered words coming from the room.

It was hard to hear exactly what was being said, but you managed to catch a few phrases. 'Red Leader's quarters,' 'find it,' and 'take the shot.' Piecing together what was going on wasn't difficult to do. Any other words were lost to you, the rush of blood ringing in your ears completely drowning them out. Thoughts and scenarios raced through your mind, but one phrase echoed the loudest.

Find the alarm.

The entire base was fixed with an alarm system. Activators were littered through the halls, making them easy to find. Slowly, carefully, you began to take steps backwards, intending to make your way to an alarm you spotted a few paces back without risking being seen by the two plotters. Fate had other ideas. Two men stepped out of the room. They were dressed in black clothing, likely chosen for stealth. The strip lights made it difficult to see their faces clearly, but one thing was certain.

They were looking directly at you.

Your heartbeat felt like a ticking second hand of a clock as you stood still, feet glued to the floor. You stared. They stared. Then, everything came rushing back. One of the intruders took a step toward you, and you bolted. You heard your boots thump against the concrete as you sprinted in the direction you came from, adrenaline pumping through your veins. The alarm activator quickly came into view. To avoid unauthorized use, it could only be turned on with the use of the standard Red Army ID cards that were required to be kept on your person at all times. You yanked yours off the clip, not caring if the thin bit of plastic bit broke in the process, and slammed it against the scanner. You didn't even bother to waste time checking how close your pursuers were to you. As soon as the screen lit up, you slammed your thumb against the button that red 'INTRUDERS' in big, bold letters. Seconds after you pressed it, a weight slammed into your side, slamming you to the cold concrete ground. One of the intruders sat on top of you, wrapping his hands around your throat.

But it was too late. Red lights bathed the halls, the low blare of the alarm echoing through the entire building. The other intruder appeared in your line of vision, grabbing the first by the shoulder and dragging him off of you. You gasp as air filled your lungs again.

"Leave her, we have to get out of here."

"But-"

"We are not sticking around to get caught. Do you have any idea what Red Leader does to prisoners?"

You rolled onto your side, coughs wracking your body. Your throat stung from the phantom feeling of the man's hands. Your ears rang, and you couldn't hear anything except muffled footsteps for a while. Suddenly, hands were on your shoulders. Panic coursed through you, thinking they had come back to finish the job. Your hand lashed out. Something solid collided with your fist, and there was a grunt. The hands disappeared for a second, but quickly came back. You were rolled onto your back. In that moment, your hearing cleared.

"Private!"

Standing over you was a fellow Red Army soldier. You recognized him as one of the lieutenants that had worked with your platoon before. He helped you sit up, looking over you for any obvious injuries. Another soldier was standing off to the side, clutching his face. The lieutenant snapped in front of your face, drawing you back to the present.

"Can you hear me, Private? Do you need medical attention?"

You completely disregarded his questions, panicked energy filling your entire body.

"Two intruders, male, wearing all black. They're targeting Red Leader."

The lieutenant paused, taking in that information. He looked over his shoulder, nodding to the other soldier. He returned the nod, then disappeared down the hallway. The lieutenant focused back on you. You could hear soldiers flooding the hallway all around you, pulled from their sleep by the alarm and guns drawn.

"Private, do you need medical? How copy?"

You swallowed thickly. The sting of your throat made you wince. Still, you shook your head 'no.' The lieutenants eyes flickered across you, taking in your state. They rested just below your head.

"I'm taking you to medical."

You barely had time to argue when you were scooped into his arms. He stood, holding you with little to no effort. He looked around at the soldiers gathered in the halls, barking out orders over the blaring of the alarm.

"We got two intruders wearing all black, location unknown. Bring them in alive. Red Leader is the confirmed target, protect at all costs. Lovelace, get it over the radio."

Sergeant Major Lovelace nodded and repeated the message over her radio, making sure all soldiers knew the situation. The lieutenant holding you made his way through the halls, weaving through the other soldiers as he made his way to the medical wing.

"What's your name, Private?"

You gave him your last name, trying to blink away the spinning of the world. The lieutenant clicked his tongue softly.

"Full name, c'mon."

Oh. He wanted to keep you talking, to prevent any potential passing out. You indulged, giving him your full name. He gave you a crooked grin, the small gap between his front teeth giving it an almost boyish charm. He had shaggy brown hair that tufted out at his neck in a small mullet, cornflower blue eyes, and sun kissed skin. A small scar stretched across his chin - it didn't look like the ugly scar of some traumatic injury; more like the faint scar of past teenage mischief.

"The name's Lieutenant Kai Veern. You did great tonight, (Name)."

Lieutenant Veern proceeded to ramble to you as he navigated the chaotic halls. A Southern accent was laced into his words, relaxing your panicked brain. Soon, he pushed a door open with his hip, addressing the nurses that were standing in a group.

"Got a soldier with fresh bruising around her neck. Disoriented. Unsure of any other injuries."

You zoned out as you were set on a check-up table. The nurses bustled around you, checking you for injuries.

You wondered where Red Leader was.

"Does someone want to tell me what the hell is going on in my base?"

The intruder alarms had long been turned off. Tord paced his office, glancing at the clock on the wall. 5 am. God, he needed a smoke.

"Two intruders were apprehended in the east wing. They're being held in interrogation as we speak."

"Separately?"

Patryk nodded.

"Who pulled the alarm?"

"Private (Last Name). The patrol supervisor said she had just been released from first shift. We're headed down to medical to get her report right after this."

Tord's eyes snapped up to his Major General and Lieutenant General.

"Medical? What do you mean, medical?"

Paul and Patryk shared a nervous glance. Paul shifted in his spot.

"Lieutenants Veern and Winston found her on the ground in the hall. Veern escorted her to medical for bruising around her neck. It's likely that one of the intruders tried to strangle her."

Hot anger flashed through Tord. He slammed his hand against his desk, the heavy metal making a loud impact against the wooden surface. Paul and Patryk didn't even flinch.

"You're telling me that not only did someone have the audacity to sneak into my base like vermin, but one of them put his hands on my soldier? Does she have any other injuries? Did any other soldier report to medical?"

Paul shook his head to both questions. A growl rumbled from Tord's chest.

"They still harmed one of mine. That is a transgression I will not take lightly. Find out which one did it. Save him for me. If neither of them cough it up, give them both a lesson. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

The two stood and saluted.

"Wait. I want you to report straight to interrogation."

Patryk frowned.

"But what about Private-"

"I am going to see her myself."

The two soldiers blinked in surprise, staring at him as if he had grown a second head. Tord huffed, waving his hand dismissively as he pulled a cigar from the box on his desk.

"She could have been risking her life to pull that alarm. I want to talk to her directly."

Failing to bite back their smiles, Tord's trusted soldiers nodded and headed out the door. The guards posted outside his office shut the doors behind them.

Tord sighed, lighting his cigar and taking a deep inhale. The smoke puffed around him as he exhaled, shoulders slowly relaxing. He tapped his other fingers against his desk as he stewed in his thoughts.

Private (Name)…

He was very curious.

#eddsworld #eddsworld x reader #eddsworld tord #eddsworld tord x reader #eddsworld red leader #eddsworld red leader x reader #set the world on fire

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princess-leaorgana · 8 days

Text

What Tieflings Do Chpter 8

Summary: After the takedown of The Absolute, Zelphie finds her city in need of more help and her home destroyed. She won't stop helping, but who can help her?

Rolan x Tav (Zelphie; ~30y.o AFAB, Sorcerer, Tiefling, not really described physically on purpose <3)

M/F

Author's Note: I fucking love tielfings. Along with this being a budding romance/smut/fluff/word vomit fanfiction, it's also my case study in DnD 5e tieflings, how they act, what sets them apart from humans and devils and elves. That being said, I have a few artistic liberties in here as well where I couldn't find a straight answer, if you'll amuse me.

Warnings - Spoilers for Baldur's Gate 3, angst and some foul language

Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven

Or Read all chapters on AO3

‘No, no, that looks garish, take it away.’

Rolan was being a nightmare. The tower was already incredibly neat and after almost six months of being its master, Rolan has redecorated all that he could. Whenever he had guests in the tower, he went a little overboard making sure the entrance was neat, but today, he was losing his mind. Someone very special was coming to visit, well, two people, but only one of them was making Rolan nervous. Gale of Waterdeep would be paying them a visit. He was in the city for real business, and Zelphie invited him to stay in the tower. Without discussing it with Rolan first. Which was putting Rolan in an early grave. He was fighting with his own water elementals over the position of some flowers on a table. Zelphie stood in the room, her mage hand waiting for instruction. It had moved the furniture three times over already. Zelphie regretted inviting the wizard to even come and visit. She allowed Rolan his fussing, because the second guest was Astarion. Rolan finally yielded, allowing the vampire to come to the tower, Cal hadn’t been around very much as of late and it depressed Rolan terribly. It was very clear that Cal and Astarion cared for each other very much. Rolan had to give in if he wanted to see his brother again.

Zelphie finally walked over to the couch she had just moved and sat down with a big ‘oof’. She was four months pregnant, only halfway done, but she was exhausted. She was mostly just tired, her back and legs hurt a lot, so standing and watching Rolan throw a hissy fit over flowers was killing her. Lia walked into the entrance room, wearing an old robe of Zelphie’s. It was a deep red robe, a little heavy for casual wear in the summer, but it did look very good on Lia. Zelphie smiled as her sister walked over.

‘How do I look?’ She asked and Zelphie smiled.

‘Magical,’ Zelphie answered and patted the couch. Lia walked past Rolan.

‘You have a vein that’s about to pop,’ she said to her brother, who just absolutely ignored her. He was studying the ceiling. What the hells was he going to do about the ceiling? Lia sat next to Zelphie and gave her swollen belly a little pat. ‘How are you feeling?’ She asked and Zelphie sighed.

‘I feel like a hot bath and a nap would answer all the world’s problems,’ she said and laughed a little. ‘How about you? Nervous?’ She asked a little softly, giving Lia a nudge. Lia swatted at Zelphie playfully and shook her head.

‘No, shut up,’ she said and Zelphie grinned.

‘Have you ever spent any time alone with Gale?’ She asked and Lia shook her head.

‘No, only chance I ever had was at Last Light Inn, but I was convinced the two of you were sha-‘ Rolan interrupted his sister with a very loud clearing of the throat. Both women stared at him, but his eyes were still on the ceiling. Another reason Rolan was nervous. Yes, he did want to impress Gale, but not for the reason one might expect. Gale was a highly acclaimed wizard, Mystra’s chosen, hailing from Waterdeep, city of splendors. Rolan had a lot to catch up to, as would most other wizards. But power, talent and prestige really wasn’t what Rolan was jealous of. He was convinced Gale and Zelphie had been involved in some way. Zelphie had reassured him absolutely not and even if they were, it wouldn’t matter in the least. Gale was a romantic gentleman and he would never flirt with a married woman and Zelphie would never dare to drift from her love. It was simple for Zelphie but very hard for Rolan to believe. They were married and had a little one on the way, but Rolan would never think himself Zelphie’s priority, her one and only. He couldn’t help his insecurities.

‘Well, I promise, he’s very easy to get along with. He always has the best intentions. A little shy but incredibly…verbose.’ Lia certainly did have a crush on the wizard, he was a beautiful man. Though, listening to him yap on and on about a subject might not be something Lia could stand. She wasn’t the most patient of people. They would have to see.

‘Darling, the bookcase needs to go back,’ Rolan said, still staring at the ceiling.

‘Is your brain finally well done?’ Lia asked as Zelphie commanded her hand to push the bookcase. Rolan shot a look at her and raised an eyebrow.

‘That’s a nice dress,’ he said and Lia grinned.

‘Thanks, it’s your wife’s,’ she said and Zelphie laughed.

‘Alright, enough, come and sit, Rolan, please,’ she said and reached her hand out for him. He was about to argue and then Zelphie did something he hated more than anything else in the world. She pouted. He scowled and closed his eyes and walked over. Zelphie grinned instantly. She had about another four months of that power. She did have to pick her pout battles, she couldn’t have him strengthen his will. She only did it when she really needed him by her side, and right then, she needed him to stop worrying and then be by her side. She took his hand once he was on the couch with his wife and sister. ‘There, now relax,’ she told him and smiled. ‘The tower is beautiful, Gale will be incredibly impressed at its transformation, I know it, stop worrying,’ she told him and he sighed.

‘If I notice something isn’t right, it will gnaw at me that everyone else who sees it knows it’s not right,’ he told her and she smirked.

‘The angle of a bookcase is not right or wrong, dear, it’s a matter of taste,’ she said and he gave her an incredulous look, which made her laugh.

‘Someone’s taste is an indicator of their ability to tell right and wrong,’ he said and Zelphie laughed again. ‘And Gale of Waterdeep, I assume from his background, has impeccable taste,’ he said and Zelphie shook her head.

‘Don’t call him that, he won’t care for it,’ she told him and he sighed again.

‘Of course,’ he muttered and the large entrance opened to the tower. The three of them stood up, Zelphie had a little help from Rolan. Cal and Astarion had arrived. Lia walked over quickly to greet them and Zelphie followed, Rolan stayed put. Cal still did live at the tower, he worked in the store most days, but most nights he was gone. His relationship with the vampire had gotten stronger. Cal got first hugs and he gave Zelphie’s growing belly a little tap.

‘Alright in there?’ He asked and Zelphie grinned.

‘They certainly are making themself at home,’ she said and Cal laughed.

‘Well well well, look at you,’ Astarion said to Zelphie and she hugged him quickly. He hugged her back, he smiled as he did. Astarion hugs were very special. He was a very touch sensitive person and it meant everything to Zelphie that Astarion trusted her. ‘From chaotic hero to mummy,’ he said with a grin. Zelphie laughed.

‘I’m absolutely over being a hero,’ she said and Lia snorted.

‘Fat chance,’ she said. There was an awkward moment between Rolan and Astarion. Finally, Rolan took Astarion’s in a quick handshake.

‘Welcome,’ he said and Zelphie smiled up at him.

‘Thank you very much for the invitation,’ Astarion said and nodded his head a little. ‘The tower has certainly improved since the last time I was here…well, you know,’ he said and bobbed his head a little.

‘Rolan has a keen eye for comfort and luxury,’ Zelphie said and rubbed her tail as subtly as she could against Rolan’s. Just for his comfort and her appreciation.

‘Thank you, please, come and sit, I’ll have tea brought out,’ he said and led his family and guest back to the sitting area. The group wasn’t very long before a knocking on the entrance door rang through the room. Rolan stood up and Zelphie followed to welcome their last guest. Rolan opened the door and just outside of it was Gale Dekarios, looking as prim and fashionable as always, though even more so now that he had fresh clothing. Robes of purple that opened enough to show off a tuft of chest hair, but no more Orb brand. ‘Mister Dekarios, thank you so much for coming,’ Rolan said while holding his hand out. Gale grinned and shook Rolan’s hand firmly.

‘If only my pupils had the same sense of decorum as you, Master Rolan,’ he said and shook his head. ‘But please, don’t do me any disservice, just Gale is quite alright,’ he said and looked down at Zelphie with a smile. She was about to give her friend a hug but he tilted his head and his smile faltered. ‘Well, I’ll be absolutely damned,’ he said and looked down at her belly. ‘Don’t take any offense to this statement, for I’d like to think you not telling me that you might be expecting was on purpose,’ he said and Zelphie laughed. ‘You look wonderful,’ he said and Zelphie hugged him tight.

‘You as well, you look great with no Netherese toxin in your chest cavity, very slim,’ she laughed which made him laugh. ‘Come inside, Astarion, Cal and Lia are all inside, come come,’ she said and Gale walked into the tower. He did a little look around, staring at the ceiling as he walked with the couple.

‘Ah! Fantastic use of radiance,’ Gale said and Rolan grinned.

‘Why thank you, yes, I have been reading so many fascinating things about the subject of all elements. Zelphie’s natural magic is quite the inspiration,’ Rolan began and Gale stopped walking. Zelphie looked up at the ceiling, seeing what she had always seen. A beautiful light from sun rays coming from the windows. The ceiling was decorated with hanging glass and metal that let the rays of sun glow different colors. It was beautiful, but Zelphie didn’t know it was magic. She placed a hand on her belly. ‘It’s a bit like home, this room,’ he said and Gale nodded.

‘Ah yes! Although I was no stranger to the city of Elturel before last year, I cannot say meeting all of you did not stir my curiosity. Sleeping and waking under the same bright light every day, every minute of every day. It truly must have….’ Gale went on with Rolan and Zelphie walked away from the bonding wizards. She was very happy if they both yapped each others’ ears off all night. She walked back to the sitting area where Cal was drinking tea, and Astarion and Lia were gabbing. She sat down next to Lia with a little oof.

‘Darling, you are really letting yourself go,’ Astarion teased and Zelphie laughed.

‘You shut up,’ she said playfully and rubbed her belly.

‘I put money on a boy for sure,’ Cal said and Lia sighed.

‘Oh! I bet Astarion could tell us,’ Lia said and Astarion cocked an eyebrow. ‘He knew she was pregnant the minute she was, could you tell us if it’s a boy or a girl?’ She asked. Lia was desperate to know, and Zelphie didn’t really blame her. Zelphie didn’t really care about the gender or sex of her child, she just knew the only way that she could know the sex was when it was born. That was what Zelphie wanted.

‘Lia, don’t be weird, Astarion is a vampire, not a tiefling midwife. We’ll find out in four months,’ she said and Lia sighed. She looked up at Astarion, who wasn’t exactly pleased with the conversation of babies. ‘How about you Astarion? How are your seven thousand children?’ She asked and he cackled.

‘You are rotten, gods I missed you,’ he said and leaned back. ‘But to answer your ridiculously worded question, everyone is practically fine…give or take a few dozen,’ he said and flourished his wrist. Zelphie raised her eyebrow at him. ‘Oh don’t judge me, you take charge of seven thousand spawn and come back with your results,’ he told her. ‘Besides, we have a process. If one runs off, the Fist are alerted immediately.’

‘Oh, wow, I’m very proud of you,’ Zelphie said and Astarion smirked.

‘You would be! He’s doing amazing work down there. Not that he would admit any of it,’ Cal said and Zelphie grinned.

‘I’m only doing what I can,’ Astarion said and reached a slender finger to Cal’s chin.

‘Oh, is Astarion a hero now?’ Zelphie teased a little and Astarion shrugged and smirked.

‘Maybe I am,’ he said, but there was pride in his voice. Zelphie’s smile only grew. She was proud of him. Was he still a violent bastard? Yes, but he was empathetic and responsible, at least more than he was six months ago. Finally, the gabbing wizards walked over to the sitting area, Gale finally said hello to Cal and Lia and when it came to greeting Astarion, Gale smirked.

‘Hello Astarion,’ he said and Astarion smirked at him.

‘Wizard,’ he said, still smirking. Gale gave a chuckle. It was very strange, how did one greet a person that you used to share thoughts with for six months? ‘How have the sunsets by the sea kept you?’ He asked and Gale leaned back with excitement.

‘Oh, it is fantastic to be home. I’ve missed all of you, of course, but to be back in Waterdeep with a purpose and…well, a little less of me that before, it’s a breath of fresh air to be short about it,’ he began and Astarion’s eyes opened and he glanced down at Gale’s chest. He clicked his lips.

‘Ah, goodie, no surprise bursts during dinner tonight then?’ He asked and Gale grinned and shook his head.

‘No, and I feel fantastic, knees have never felt better, I don’t even think I can predict the weather anymore,’ he said and Zelphie laughed. Gale was a human, which wasn’t much different than being a tiefling, age wise. He was older than Zelphie, and constantly complained on their adventures about his knees hurting. He joked a few times that when his knees would act up randomly, it meant it would rain. It never really did rain.

‘Well, if you’re not a weathervane, what use are you?’ Zelphie teased and Gale grinned.

‘I’ll have you know I have my own position at Blackstaff, Professor Dekarios of Illusionary Magic, thank you very much,’ Gale told Zelphie who grinned.

‘I’m sure your students are very lucky to have such a teacher,’ Lia piped in, finally. Zelphie glanced at her. Gale grinned at her and bobbed his head.

‘Gale, you should know, Lia has been very stubborn about learning magic since these three arrived at the Tower. On my very first day here, she very almost produced a Knock. Her somatic movements were perfect, but she has a little work to do with her oration,’ she said and Lia scowled at Zelphie. ‘Perhaps later on you could help her?’

‘Oh? Oh well, yes, I think I would love that. Tell me, Lia, is it your brother’s talent that inspired your ambition? Gale asked and Lia’s head spun so fast from Zelphie to Gale it almost fell off.

‘Uhm…yeah, yeah, Rolan’s…uhm, yes,’ she fumbled and Zelphie glanced at Rolan, who was looking right back at her. Oh that gave her chills. Rolan winked at her and cleared his throat.

‘Shall we make our way to the dining room?’ He asked and the group followed him, Zelphie taking up the rear. Everyone had their assigned seat, Rolan and Gale at the head and foot, Zelphie was to Rolan’s right, Cal to Rolan’s left. Lia and Astarion on each side of Gale. ‘I apologize in advance, I know that tonight there are three very different diets so, please do know I had everyone in mind while planning dinner.’ Dinner was served, different dishes meant to share, Astarion mainly drank. Zelphie kept bringing the conversation back to Lia, not exactly being subtle about wanting to set up her friend and her sister-in-law, though it was subtle enough for Gale. Rolan’s tail curled around Zelphie’s tail when she was getting obnoxious. Lia was getting a little nervous. Cal would redirect gracefully. After about two attempts, Cal redirected the conversations to Zelphie’s pregnancy.

‘Yes, how far along are you?’ Gale asked, cutting a dinner roll.

‘A little over four months,’ she said with a grin and Gale nodded.

‘You look wonderful! I’m so happy for you, honestly. Rolan, I’ll have you know this one right here will make a great mother, mummed us all back to life and sanity when we called for it, eh Astarion?’ He asked and the vampire smirked.

‘Yes, she’s very…nurturing,’ he said, swilling his glass of brandy. Rolan tensed up a little.

‘Gale should be one to talk, Rolan, I never told you, Gale cooked for us every night,’ she said and the wizard shook his hand.

‘Ah, yes, my one use, camp chef,’ he said and Astarion laughed.

‘Almost killed me a few times with the amount of garlic he used,’ Astarion teased and Gale laughed. Astarion was just joking, of course. Gale genuinely would never have done that to Astarion, no matter how many times Karlach and Zelphie whined.

‘Tell me, Zelphie, I have been doing some research on our experiences after the removal of the tadpole, but as you are in a special condition, do you have any strange symptoms?’ He asked and Rolan’s tail tightened around Zelphie’s.

‘Actually, yes, now that you mention it,’ she said and Gale leaned in a little. ‘Since you last saw me Gale, I have become pregnant,’ she said and smirked. Gale rolled his eyes.

‘Ha ha, hilarious,’ he said and leaned back in his chair. ‘You know what I mean,’ he said and Zelphie laughed and nodded.

‘I’d rather not talk about symptoms at the dinner table,’ she told him and Rolan’s tail seemed to relax. Gale nodded.

‘Ah, yes, my apologies. I must confess, my manners have never been what they used to be,’ he said and Astarion grinned.

‘Yes Gale, do mind your decorum.’

Dinner ended and most went off to bed, all but two. Rolan and Gale snuck off to Rolan’s study as Zelphie excused herself for bed. She was absolutely not going to listen to those two prattle on about arcane nonsense. No, she wanted a bath, a cuddle with Lajy and a few midnight snacks that she could eat without judgment or theft. Rolan would always judge her insatiable hunger but always ended up stealing more than Zelphie cared for. She made herself a bath and brought a little tray of her favorite jam biscuits to munch on while she soaked and washed up. Lajy played with Zelphie’s tail that kept dipping up and down below the water. It was making her laugh.

Zelphie got out of the bath and walked Lajy and her biscuits to bed after pulling over a night dress. She had intended on staying up to wait for Rolan, but after about an hour, she was on her back, snoring, hand still on her biscuit plate. Lajy was snoozing, purring and curled up in between her horns. The bedroom door opened quickly, slamming a bit as it shut. This woke Zelphie up and a very drunk Rolan was stumbling into the bedroom, pulling his cowl over his head. She rubbed her eyes and groaned, moving her plate and rolled to her side. Lajy hopped off her and the bed to greet Rolan.

‘You still up my darling? Oh I’m sorry,’ he muttered and Zelphie grunted. ‘Oh don’t bitch at me, I just had a wonderful evening, and and! And I learned a little more about my little wife tonight than I ever did, you little sneak,’ he said, walking over to the bed, kicking his shoes off and fiddling with his belt. She opened one of her eyes, watching him fumble. He was very drunk.

‘You’re drunk,’ she groaned and he snorted.

‘And you…you are a sloppy little slut,’ he said and Zelphie shot right up. That absolutely wasn’t funny. He laughed, regardless of how much that irritated his wife. ‘Don’t you give me that look, Gale told me aaaallllll about your little…fling with my brother’s boyfriend,’ he said and Zelphie’s face immediately got hot. She felt like she could die, her heart was beating and her stomach was twisting in knots. Yes, Astarion and Zelphie had a sexual relationship that mutually dissolved rather early on. She was teased a little from the companions for falling into a vampire’s trap, but that had all but fizzled. Clearly, Gale still thought it important enough to tell Rolan, tell him something Zelphie hadn’t told him yet. She was mortified. She was certain she wanted to have told him, she just hated that it came from Gale. ‘Mmmm oh I know that look,’ he said, pointing at her. ‘He was right, wasn’t he? Ha! To think, I’ve been jealous of Gale for months…ho ho, wrong man I think.’ It was clear that Rolan’s consumption had taken over. He might think like this, but he would never speak the way he was. He would never insult Zelphie like this, no matter how upset he was. She understood his hurt, but to bust into their bedroom and boldly call her a slut was beyond out of character. She struggled a little, but got out of bed. Tears welled up in her eyes from embarrassment and anger and guilt. Rolan rolled his eyes and stumbled over himself a little to get closer to her. ‘Come on, don’t be pissed at me, how do you think I feel?’ He asked and Zelphie glared at him.

‘I’m going to bed,’ she told him quickly, walking out of the room. Rolan grabbed her arm and she pulled it back.

‘Zelphie, come to bed, come on,’ he whined, almost as if he had forgotten what he had just said to her.

‘No, get some sleep. You're stinking drunk,’ she hissed at him.

‘You are going to judge me for a little lapse in…judgment?’ He asked and laughed. She scowled and just walked away from him, slamming the bedroom door shut as she left. She refused to fight with him while he was so intoxicated. She walked across the hall and heard footsteps.

‘Oh, are you still up?’ Zelphie looked to her right to see Gale. She scowled at him. He had been looking cheerful, but he froze on the spot and frowned when he saw Zelphie crying and scowling at him. ‘Oh…what…what’s the matter?’ He barely finished his sentence before Zelphie pointed a finger at him.

‘My husband just accused me of being a slut because of you,’ she barked at him. Gale’s eyebrows shot up and his mouth fell open.

‘Because of me? Z-Zelphie, I can promise you,’ he stammered and shook his head. ‘He called you a what? No…no…’

‘That was not your business to tell him. I have been working for months to get him to like Astarion for Cal’s sake, you’ve not only got him accusing me, but now all of my work is pushed back. I do hope you are happy with yourself Gale Dekarios,’ she shouted and walked into the nursery, slamming that door shut as well. Once inside, she slid down the side of the door to sit on the floor and just cried. Rolan was just drunk, Gale didn’t mean any harm, but Zelphie was hurt. She held her belly and sobbed, going over everything in her head. Hearing Rolan insult her like he did, whether he meant it or not crushed her heart. She would get over it, she had to get over it, but her heart had to be broken for a little while. She heard doors opening outside, but she ignored it. She heard talking because of the ruckus she had made but she just kept crying over it all. The fuss she had made, the fuss she always made.

She heard Lia shouting and she got herself up and walked over to the bed in the room. She didn’t want to hear it, she was angry that the whole damned tower was involved. It was absolutely her fault, slamming doors and screaming, but she climbed into bed and sobbed into her pillow. The last time she had slept in that bed was months and months ago. She had gone on minor adventures since her and Rolan became partners, so she had gone to sleep without him, but not since her pregnancy. She missed him, but she was so angry.

He was drunk.

She was sensitive.

It would pass.

He was drunk.

She was sensitive.

It would pass.

She repeated this to herself over and over until her head hurt. She finally calmed down, the noise outside gone except for the smallest sound. A little scratching at the door. She sniffed and held her head as she got up. The one creature in the whole tower she could face, Lajy. She rubbed her face and opened the door, looking down and letting the little cat in. As the door was opened, she heard a little sound. Rolan. She looked up, he was there, about six feet away from her, in the doorway of their bedroom. He looked exactly how she felt. His sad, puffy face only made her eyes sting with tears once more. He was in a night robe, his hair down. She looked back down at the ground, finding it terribly difficult to look at him.

‘Could I speak with you, please?’ He asked softly and she slowly shook her head. She wanted to, she desperately wanted to. She didn’t want to sleep in the nursery, she wanted to sleep with Rolan. But what she wanted wasn’t what the both of them needed.

‘We can when you are sober,’ she said and Rolan took a deep breath.

‘I had coffee,’ he said, sounded much less drunk, but there was no way an hour sobered him up that much. Zelphie shook her head slowly once more.

‘In the morning, Rolan,’ she said, still not looking up at him. She could feel him staring at her.

‘I’m sorry, Zelphie,’ he said, his voice so soft and she nodded. She didn’t respond, but she heard him. He sighed out. ‘I love you,’ he continued and Zelphie looked back up at him. He looked so desperate. Rolan and Zelphie bickered a lot, Zelphie was silly and flighty, Rolan was impatient and stubborn, they clashed a lot. This wasn’t the same.

‘I love you too, Rolan,’ she said softly and Rolan closed his eyes. ‘Go to sleep,’ she told him and slowly shut the door in front of her. Her heart ached to open the door back up. But no, they both needed sleep. Space was healthy for now, time would be the only healer tonight. She shuffled back to bed, feeling a little guilty that Lajy had chosen to sleep with her when Rolan was hurting as well. She got under the covers, covering herself up to her nose. She used the blankets to stop her tears from running down her cheeks. Lajy purred in her ear as he laid by her head, they both curled up and Zelphie drifted off into a very deep sleep.

She woke up to a knock on her door. She slowly sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She had a terrible headache. The door slowly opened and Zelphie readied herself for Rolan. It was Cal. Cal might have been worse. He poked his head in and Zelphie frowned.

‘Morning, sis,’ he said and walked in with two cups of coffee in his hands, his tail shutting the door as Lajy ran out. ‘Rolan uhm…wanted to wake you but…I didn’t think that was a good idea, he’s letting off some steam,’ he said and walked over to Zelphie’s bed, handing her the coffee. He knew that was a good enough peace offering.

‘Cal, I am so sorry, I promise you, from the bottom of my heart, on my unborn child, what Astarion and I had-‘ Cal held up a hand.

‘Please, Zelphie, don’t. Astarion told me months ago,’ he said and sat down next to her. ‘I didn’t come here to talk about Astarion. I understand it,’ he said and Zelphie frowned. She felt awful, poor Cal. She knew even if it was hurting him, he wouldn’t say anything to her. He was too good. How could he not be upset with her? What an awful thing to keep from him all these months.

‘I should have been the one to tell you,’ she said and sipped her coffee. ‘I’m so sorry Cal, I know you don’t want to hear it, but I am sorry,’ she said and he nodded.

‘I know you didn’t keep that from me to hurt me, Zelphie. I came here to make sure you were alright,’ he told her and she smiled. ‘And to warn you that Rolan is sparring with Gale,’ he said and Zelphie cocked an eyebrow.

‘You’ve been replaced,’ she said and Cal laughed.

‘Good thing to, because I’d like to sock him right right in his bumpy fucking nose,’ he said and Zelphie shook her head.

‘I love that nose, watch it,’ she said playfully and he sipped his coffee with a little laugh.

‘Oh, you must be ill, you like Rolan’s nose? You’ve lost your taste,’ he teased and she nudged him with her foot. ‘You are alright then?’ He asked and Zelphie nodded.

‘Yes, just like always, I needed to cry and sleep a long time,’ she said and patted her belly. ‘That will all be over soon though,’ she said and Cal sighed.

‘I used to think about how lucky it was that Rolan found you. He’s never been…good with, you know…other people,’ he said and Zelphie nodded. ‘I always figured he would be without a companion and then…boom you come along and just…’ Cal shook his head and looked at Zelphie. ‘Thank you for loving him the way you do,’ he said and Zelphie tilted her head.

‘I’m lucky to have him, Cal,’ she said and Cal smiled at her. ‘I’m lucky to have you too,’ she said and smiled. Cal’s smile just grew.

‘I’m luckier,’ he said and stood up. ‘Alright, I’m going to leave you to your morning, tell me if you need anything, sis,’ he said and bent over, kissing her temple. Oh that felt very nice. ‘Rolan will be in his study, getting his ass beat, he really wants to talk to you.’ Cal left after that and Zelphie drank her coffee, waking up. Once her coffee was gone, she nervously began to get dressed for the day. She was nervous because she knew her family and friends had to have been judging her for her actions last night. She didn’t like that anyone knew that she and Rolan fought the previous night. But she shouted and slammed doors, how could they ignore it? She also hated that Rolan was hurting. She was still hurting but she had more guilt than pain for herself. She kept her hair down, she knew Rolan liked it down, but brushed it back neatly. She left her room and walked to Rolan’s study.

Zelphie held her ear to the door, hearing a lot of grunting and the knocking of wooden staffs. She carefully opened the door, feeling her heart beating quickly. She didn’t truly like confrontation, if that is what this was. She just wanted this all over and to have a normal morning with her family and friends. Inside, the room was empty, Rolan’s normal mess, tables and chairs and books and experiments pushed away to give Gale and Rolan space to spar. Rolan usually sparred in the morning with Cal, who was much stronger than Rolan. Rolan had a very good match in Gale. She witnessed Gale turn quickly to hit Rolan’s back, but Rolan’s tail blocked the hit and gave Gale a decent whack on the thigh.

‘By Mystra, I’m going to need to grow a tail,’ Gale grumbled and his brown eyes moved towards Zelphie. ‘Ah,’ he said and Rolan turned to look at Zelphie. He frowned and placed his staff down. ‘I should bathe,’ Gale said, excusing himself, walking up towards Zelphie and glancing down at her. She looked up at Gale and gave him a small smile. He smiled back. ‘Good morning,’ he said politely, but left right away, giving the couple some space. Zelphie looked back at Rolan, who was drinking from a glass of water, but was looking right back at her. She made eye contact with him, he looked sad. His tail was down on the ground, in between his legs and lifeless. She walked over to him and the closer she stepped, the harder it became to walk.

‘I’m sorry, Zelphie,’ he told her and she had to bite her bottom lip. Hearing his voice sent her right back to last night. ‘I…I shouldn’t make excuses…what I said to you last night was…beneath me. Alcohol can’t be blamed, my twisted jealousy is, and I am so sorry,’ he said and Zelphie stepped closer to him. ‘I cannot believe I called you that awful name, and I thought I was being whimsical, using dark humor to mask my own pain,’ he said and she frowned.

‘I’m sorry you were in pain, Rolan. That was my fault. I don’t know why I never told you about me and Astarion,’ she said and he glanced away for a moment. She took in a deep breath, she would tell him the truth then. ‘It was twice, two times in the six months we were fighting for our lives. I was desperate for normalcy and he was desperate for protection. It wasn’t love, it wasn’t attraction, it was desperation. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,’ she told him and Rolan looked her face over.

‘Did you not tell me because of my anger?’ He asked her and she shook her head quickly.

‘No, not at all. I was so busy trying to get you to like my friend I just…forgot to mention it. I forgot it happened,’ she said and sighed. ‘And I feel just as guilty towards Cal. Astarion already told him and I couldn’t afford him or you the same honesty,’ she told him and played with her claws mindlessly. ‘I didn’t mean to keep it from you, and I swear, anything that pops into my mind, from now on, I’ll be honest about, I swear,’ she said and Rolan smiled down at her. It was a small smile, he wasn’t happy, just glad at her promise, her attempt. ‘I’ve uhm…never had…sex that meant anything until you,’ she said softly. ‘It…uhm…’ she went on, trying to be honest with him. ‘It was always transactional, business, no matter how much it tore something from me…but our first time together,’ she said and looked down. ‘What we do is different,’ she told him in a small voice. She felt a gentle touch, Rolan’s hand under her chin to guide her to look back up at him. She let him guide her face until she was looking him in the eye. His red skin glowing with sweat from working out, his hair untidy, but his yellow eyes were piercing through hers. She felt him looking into her soul. He could look all he needed.

‘I feel guilty that I can’t say the same,’ he said softly and her eyebrows softened.

‘Please don’t, please don’t feel guilty about that,’ she told him and he let out a breath. ‘Whoever you shared love with previously, I appreciate them,’ she said and Rolan’s eyebrows shot up in shock. She felt a giggle escape her lips. ‘Come on, just like your sparring, practice alone makes perfect…and you are perfect,’ she said and Rolan blinked a few times. He looked as though he was having a very hard time understanding her and she laughed again.

‘I don’t…what?’ He asked her and furrowed his eyebrows.

‘Whoever you’ve shared your bed with previously helped you with your…fantastic talent, I assume, which has left me with the spoils,’ she said and grinned. That seemed to confuse Rolan even more. It was funny to watch him try to accept such a compliment. His face twisted in almost irritation. He brought his hand to his forehead.

‘I think Gale hit me too hard in the head earlier,’ he muttered.

‘He hit you in the head?’ She asked, snapping out of her silly mood. He shook his head.

‘No, but if he had, I would have deserved it,’ he said and Zelphie huffed.

‘Even if you did, only I can hit you in the head,’ she said and he smirked down at her. He placed his hands out in front of him and she took them both quickly. ‘I love you,’ she said and Rolan smiled. That felt better.

‘I love you too, I am so sorry,’ he told her and she lifted herself up on her toes.

‘I forgive you, and I’m sorry too,’ she told him and he lowered his head to meet hers.

‘You are beyond forgiven,’ he muttered before kissing her. She placed her hands from his to his face, holding his cheeks and his sharp jaw. Rolan wasted no time deepening the kiss. She heard him breathe through his nose as his lips parted. His hands on her hips, pulling her closer, just stopping once her belly got in the way. He was always so delicate with her bump, even though she knew the little one would be fine. She craved the closeness but thought his caution was sweet. He smiled down at her and looked down at her little bump. ‘I missed you too,’ he said and placed a hand on her belly.

‘Rolan,’ she said softly and he looked back up at her.

‘Gale taught me something,’ he said and straightened up, holding his hands up. Zelphie tilted her head and placed a hand on her belly.

‘Gale taught you enough,’ she said and Rolan shook his head.

‘Hush and watch,’ he told her and held out his hands, readying himself. ‘Gale taught me a trick, how to hold the entire world in my hands,’ he said and Zelphie’s brow cocked.

‘What?’ She asked and he hushed her again.

‘Just watch,’ he said and she frowned. The whole world in his hands? All of Toril between his claws? What did he even mean by that? He flourished his hands as if he would now recite an incantation. She assumed the illusion of Toril would appear, but then Rolan’s hands reached out and took her cheeks. ‘There,’ he said and Zelphie blinked a few times, waiting for the trick still. ‘The whole world, in my hands,’ he said and Zelphie got it. He had her in his hands, she was his whole world. She frowned and pouted up at him, that was stupidly sweet. Rolan chuckled a little and shook his head. ‘Don’t pout,’ he told her playfully but she pouted harder and reached up to kiss him. Rolan kissed her hard and she pulled on the fabric of his shirt. She couldn’t help her eagerness. She had missed him terribly. She nuzzled her nose to his.

‘Rolan?’ She asked as he nipped at her bottom lip, moaning lightly in response. ‘Rolan, could we go to bed?’ She asked him softly and Rolan’s lips traveled, kissing the side of her mouth. ‘Please,’ she whispered. Rolan took her hand and kissed it gently.

‘My wife does not beg,’ he told her and turned her hand around, kissing her palm and down her wrist. Being close to him again, hearing his voice, his rattling breath and the sound of his lips on her skin, Zelphie was quite aroused already. He lowered their hands and led the both of them out of his study, leaving his sparring staff behind. Zelphie’s tail curled up and she followed him to their bedroom. Asterion was walking down the hallway, passing the two. He smiled and Zelphie shook her head quickly at him, silently pleading for him to not interrupt. His smile and eyes grew, but he stayed silent. Zelphie’s heart fluttered as Rolan completely ignored Asterion and walked her right to their bedroom, his grasp on her hand tight.

Once inside, Rolan shut their door and twirled her around and their lips caught each other’s once more. Zelphie’s lips parted and her tongue grazed his fangs playfully. She couldn’t help but take in his body odor from exercising. He smelled like his pillow did, that little musk of his that drove her crazy. She moaned lightly and tangled her fingers in his hair. One of Rolan’s hands held her backside, kneading her flesh. The other hand he lifted up and waved to simultaneously shut the curtains, darkening the room. A second wave of his hand and the illusion in the ceiling changed from a bright sky to a starry sky. Zelphie lifted her head to see and she smiled. Rolan impatiently picked her up and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He carried her carefully to their bed and placed her down gently. He began to unstring her bodice and she reached up to kiss him again.

‘I missed you,’ she whispered and she shuffled off the top of her dress. Rolan’s head dipped right now as her breasts were exposed, kissing the very tender skin, his tongue over her nipple gently. She hissed and moaned. Her breasts were incredibly sensitive during pregnancy. Rolan had a hard time holding back, he loved biting her, but he would be gentle. Zelphie watched him, stroking his hair lovingly. He glanced up at her, and the look he gave her made shivers run down her spin. He closed his eyes and switched her other breast, kneading the nipple of the one he had just finished with. As he caressed her with his tongue, Zelphie continued to watch him, placing her hand on the ties of his trousers. Rolan chuckled, the vibrations of such tickling her skin and she shivered again. He leaned up, helping her with his trousers and he removed his wrap shirt as well, tossing the linen fabric to the floor. He crawled close to her, unhooking the straps that remained of her dress. He looked her over, admiring her body. She watched him closely. He placed a hand on her belly bump, tracing it lovingly.

‘Oh but I missed you so much more,’ he said and his eyes traveled back to hers. His hand cupped her cheek. ‘I’m sorry I made you feel less than what you are, my love. You are perfect,’ he told her and she nudged her forehead. ‘I’m the biggest fool in the world,’ he whispered and she nudged him.

‘Don’t talk about my husband like that,’ she told him and he hummed a laugh. ‘I’ll push you out of the window.’ He chuckled and kissed her deeply. Her tail curled around his thigh, the tip carefully caressed his cock and balls. He sighed into her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down as she laid on her back. He kept himself hovering over her with one arm on the bed. The other hand on his cock, rubbing the tip on her clit. Zelphie sighed and moved her hips against him.

‘Soaking already? My sweet girl,’ he whispered. Zelphie lifted her hips and he pressed his forehead to hers.

‘Please fuck me, I want to cum on your cock, I want you to feel what you do to me,’ she whimpered, grinding her hips up to him.

‘Begging? I told you, my wife doesn’t beg,’ he said softly, obeying her wish. Slowly, he slid into her wet entrance and she gasped and then groaned. He flicked the wrist of his now free hand to summon a mage hand. The hand floated in between the couple and it pressed the pad of its thumb to Zelphie’s clit. She hummed and whined, looking up at Rolan, who was not breaking eye contact with her. He began thrusting his hips slowly, allowing her to get used to the sensation of his cock and the hand. He sat up so he could watch her. She was gripping the bed, watching him. His chest heaved slowly as he pushed in and out, a low purr of a growl escaping her chest as he did so. Her eyes left his to look at his torso. The rough infernal ridges that moved with each thrust and breath. She reached over to touch the ridges coming down his torso and hips, that rubbed against her inner thighs.

‘Oh Rolan…oh!’ She squealed as she felt a wave hit her core, a little shock of pleasure. She laid her head back and closed her eyes.

‘Does it feel good? Hm? Do I feel good?’ He asked her, spreading her right leg over a little and she moaned, feeling him hit deeper inside of her.

‘Yes,’ she cried and swallowed hard.

‘Look at me,’ he said and with every fiber of her being that she could muster, she opened her eyes with a flutter to look at him again. He leaned down, placing a hand on her cheek and jaw, his thumb on her lips. Her lips parted and she could barely taste the salt of his thumb. She was having a hard time concentrating on looking at him, all she could do was feel, feel him inside of her, feel the mage hand making quick work of her.

‘Yes, yes, Rolan, I’m…’ she said and threw her head back, that familiar and needed pulsing wave of warmth and euphoria coursing through her. She felt her muscles pulse around Rolan and he grunted.

‘Don’t you push me out,’ he said, thrusting harder as she writhed beneath him. ‘Oh fuck, fuck that’s….divine,’ he muttered and leaned back over, getting close to her again. His hands held up up, fucking her deep and quickly. Her hips rocked back and forth, riding her orgasm, while trying to control herself as the mage hand kept its pace and Rolan just went quicker. Her hips began to buck and Rolan slipped out. He sighed, sat up and patted her bottom. Shaking, Zelphie got up and flipped around, feeling the slickness between her legs. Rolan took his pillow and placed it in front of her. Zelphie got on all fours, lifting her tail to allow Rolan access again. She felt his hands on her backside. He admired her beside, her lips dripping with arousal. He raised one hand and slapped her left cheek and she whimpered. Her body quivered, another little rush of nirvana hitting her body with that contact. ‘You are all mine, aren’t you?’ He asked and she looked behind her to make eye contact.

‘Yes,’ she said and her tail snaked up his chest, coiling over her shoulder possessively. He kissed the side of her tail and she lifted her backside when she felt him nudged at her entrance.

‘Good girl, move up just a little more,’ he said and she arched her back and he moaned happily. ‘Very good girl,’ he said and pushed himself back in. Zelphie cooed, pressing her backside against him and he chuckled. ‘My eager darling,’ he said, guiding her hips as she rocked back and forth. He moaned as she panted. ‘Oh, yes, just like that, I’ll be quick,’ he muttered. Her tail gripped around his shoulder as she kept her pace steady. This position was much more agreeable to her condition, and she knew Rolan liked it, she would do just anything for him in the bedroom. This was nothing. Pleasing him by taking charge and letting him just feel pleasure was pleasure for her. She felt Rolan rocking his hips against hers and her tail curled around his neck playfully.

‘Cum for me, my love,’ she whispered, moaning loudly. ‘I want to feel you, I want it,’ she begged and Rolan dug his claws into her hips, thrusting faster for his own pleasure and he leaned over her, his chest up against her back. She felt her vestigial wings rub against him, his corrugated skin rough with each thrust, and she felt his teeth on her shoulder, biting down and breaking the skin. Zelphie cried out from the mix of pain and pleasure. It hurt when he bit her but the feeling of ecstasy surrounding Rolan’s almost feral neediness for her soothed the pain to pure pleasure. She reached under herself, touching herself, rubbing her clot furiously, wanting to cum with him. She went first, convulsing her body under him, and she felt his teeth dig into her skin deeper as she pulsed around him. He moaned, whimpered and tensed up, his grip on her hips tightened, and then he let his grip on her shoulder go. She heard him panting and she looked behind her and kissed him.

‘I love you,’ he muttered, kissing her again. She sighed happily into his kiss.

‘I love you more,’ she told him and he sat up, looking down at her, at her back and patted her backside gently.

‘I won’t abide by that, I have a much better view than yourself,’ he said and she rolled to her back and laughed.

‘Well, I hope I’m nicer to look at than the headboard,’ she teased and he smirked.

‘I meant me,’ he told her and she snorted.

‘No way, I’m your rotund wife and you…you my husband get fitter every single day and mmmm…’ she said and leaned up. ‘Your hair,’ she started and Rolan almost nervously pushed his now loose hair behind his pointed ear. ‘It’s so long and regal, that little stripe of gray is enough to make me go wild.’ Rolan’s eyebrows shot up.

‘That was a lot to take in,’ he teased her. ‘You like the gray? Goodness, what is our little one doing to your mind?’ He asked and she shook her head.

‘Rolan! It’s gorgeous, how dare you. Gods, it’s…dignified, I love it,’ she told him and he looked down for a moment, a little smile on his face.

‘Well then, maybe I’ll wear it down more often,’ he said and she just bit her lip. She would love him to wear his hair down, but he liked it up. He liked it neat, so she wouldn’t persuade him. ‘Anything to keep my wife happy,’ he told her and she smiled up at him.

‘You don’t have to do much, you do know I find you incredibly attractive,’ she told him and he shifted next to her on the bed.

‘Tieflings are known for their strange taste in beauty,’ he said and she laughed.

‘Rolan, I swear, you know you’re attractive,’ she told him and he hummed as he laid back on his pillow. He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her shoulder. ‘When I first laid eyes on you…a year ago, you know what my first thought was?’ She asked and he hummed in response again, still leaving kisses on her shoulder and neck. ‘Gods I hope he makes it to Baldur’s Gate, and I hope he stops in my jewelry shop when I get cured,’ she said and he laughed.

‘You know what I first thought when I saw you?’ He asked and she laughed.

‘That I was annoying?’ She asked and he hummed again and she laughed again.

‘Yes, but because I had hoped that such a powerful and beautiful sorcerer would have been on my side against Cal and Lia,’ he said and she giggled. ‘But no, that was the first of many times you stuck your pretty little nose in my business and the first time you genuinely made me angry,’ he told her and she turned to look at him.

‘Look at us now,’ she said and he grinned at her.

‘I was never, ever more blind than I was back then,’ he told her and she laughed.

‘You were going through a lot, finding romance was more than likely not a priority for you,’ she said and he nodded. ‘All of this was worth the wait,’ she told him and Rolan nuzzled her face with his.

As much as the couple would have loved staying in bed for the rest of the day, they had guests. Guests who deserved their attention and their apologies. Rolan bathed and Zelphie left the bedroom and walked to the sitting room. There was Gale, admiring a bookshelf. Bless Gale, Zelphie thought to herself.

‘Reminds you of home, I hope,’ she said and Gale spun with a smile on his face. She smiled back at him.

‘Yes, though, I hate to admit, Rolan is a better housekeeper, with my condition gone, I have acquired quite the plethora of artifacts,’ he said and she walked closer to him and he held his hands behind his back.

‘I’m sure Tara is mortified,’ she said and he laughed and nodded, pointing at her.

‘Right as rain, you,’ he said and Zelphie grinned. ‘So, is uhm….is everything alright?’ He asked and Zelphie nodded.

‘Yes, Gale, and I apologize for last night and this morning. I’m afraid Rolan’s nightmare has come true in being a bad host,’ she said and Gale shook his head.

‘I wouldn’t dream of thinking that, no? I played the part of a bad guest. Which I believe is a worse sin, I fear,’ he said and Zelphie shook her head. ‘I am the sorry one, you were right last night, it was not my place to say what I said to Rolan. I just couldn’t think of another way to have him believe me that you and I-‘

‘I know, I know, he’s…’ she sighed and shook her head. ‘One day it will sink in, that he earned all of this, that he deserves my unconditional love, but I am still working on it,’ she said and Gale nodded.

‘I understand that feeling all too well,’ he said and Zelphie smirked.

‘I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand two powerful, talented and handsome men, kind to their core, loving to their core, with the biggest egos that can’t grasp that they deserve love,’ she said and Gale smirked, pointing at her.

‘Because, Zelphie, a man like myself or Rolan will never stop wondering if those in our lives keep us around because we deserve love, or if they just like a talented man by their side,’ he said and Zelphie’s face softened. She thought it was ridiculous, but there was an understanding there, finally. Did Rolan think Zelphie only stuck around for his talent? HIs money? His position? Of course she didn’t, but hearing it from her sage friend in such a way really made her think.

‘Thank you for that, Gale,’ she said and Gale smiled. ‘I think I needed to hear that,’ she said and Gale smiled. ‘Oh! And speaking of immense talent, proof of Rolan’s best possible quality, his patience with me,’ she said and held out her hand. Gale watched her closely, a blue light glowing around her hand as she concentrated. A black lily appeared, floating for a moment and fell gracefully into her palm. She presented it to Gale. ‘Take that mister Professor of the School of Illusion,’ she said and Gale’s eyes widened and he laughed.

‘Well, I’ll be damned a second time,’ he said and he took the flower. ‘Look at you! And not a stray spark to be seen!’ he said and inspected the flower and Zelphie beamed proudly.

‘Took MONTHS, but I think I’ve nailed that particular flower,’ she said and Gale chuckled.

‘You should be very proud of yourself, if I didn’t teach this, I would believe you plucked this from a garden,’ he said and she scowled.

‘Teach this nothing, it’s perfect,’ she insisted and Gale raised an eyebrow.

‘I can feel the Weave wherever it may be, Zelphie,’ he said and she wrinkled her nose. The lily disappeared and Gale smiled down at her.

#mine #bg3 #bg3 rolan #baldur's gate 3 #holy rolan empire #rolan #rolan bg3 #rolan x tav #bg3 fanfiction

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ant-thebooknerd · 2 months

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Hey guys, here's another chapter from my Wattpad book. This one is set after Believe Me, and from Warner's POV. Features Kenji and Warner friendship. There will be a part 2 to this, but it will probably take a while.

"Hey buddy, guess what?"

I roll my eyes. I am standing in the common room tent, or what Kenji calls the "VIP dining room". Nazeera and Ella are gone for the day, and I am on special orders from my wife to hang out with him.

If I had to be honest with myself, I do not hate him as much as I once did. I would still rather impale myself on a pike than admit that to him, but still. Progress is progress.

"What do you want, Kenji?" I reply, already bored of him.

"I got us matching friendship bracelets!" says Kenji, a big bright smile on his face.

I almost manage to choke on air. I turn around to fully face Kenji and look up at his grinning face. For the first time in a while, I am left speechless. I try to speak, but all that emerges is a series of incoherent stutters. Any sense of dignity and composure abandons me faster than my father did. Did this grown man just-

The idiot in question is doing his absolute very best not to laugh at my expression. However, his 'absolute very best' isn't good enough, (like everything else about him) and he explodes into a wave of hysterical laughter.

"Excuse me? You, a delusional grown man, just asked me, who is only here to fulfil the wishes of his wife, and who wants absolutely nothing to do with you, to wear matching bracelets? Do you even realise-!?"

"Okay, okay!" Kenji cuts me off, hands in the air, feigning innocence. He is still chuckling. "Wow man, I didn't think you'd get so worked up. Ouch! It's alright, we'll work towards it."

I would very much like to retract my previous statement of not hating him. The world is a better place without Kenji Kishimoto.

I shake my head, embarrassed at my outburst. I should have expected this type of behaviour from the moron. "No, not a chance," I tell him, much calmer. "Now, let's decide on something to do together that will require minimal contact and communication but enough so that we can tell the girls we hung out."

Kenji looks down at me. My height is not something that makes me feel insecure, but I loathe how I have to look up at him.

"Really man? That is the only reason you want to hang out? To please Juliette? Don't tell me it's got nothing to do with our growing friendship." he says, grinning.

I sigh. It is clear that Kenji considers us to be friends, and I have to agree that we have gotten a lot closer since my wedding to Ella. That doesn't mean I am happy about it.

"I suppose I can truthfully say that I do not wish you a miserable and painful death. I do not quarrel with you dying, but perhaps not painfully. But don't get me wrong, I will not miss you."

Somehow, he finds that funny.

"Sure, man. Do you want to play UNO?" he asks, amused, taking a red cardboard box out of his pocket. I do not know why he would carry such a thing around, but he has done many other even more questionable things, so I let it slide.

"UNO? As in, the number one in Spanish?" I say. I look closer at the box he is holding, from which he takes out two piles of colourful cards.

"Well, aren't you just a fun, shining ray of sunshine," he replies before he shuffles the cards.

Ten minutes later, we are halfway through a round, and I now know all the rules of UNO, which I only agreed to after finding out Juliette enjoys this game.

Kenji places down a Blue 2, having seven cards left in his hand. I have three. A Blue Skip, a Blue 6 and a Blue 8. I am feeling pretty confident, and place down my Skip card followed by my 6, and say "Uno,". All I need is for him to put down a blue card, or nothing. There is no prize to be won from this game, but I will greatly enjoy beating Kenji.

He puts down a Red 6. "Idiot," I tell him. I pick up a card, and it is a Yellow 3. I was so close.

His turn. Red Skip, taking my turn. Green Skip, taking it again, then a Green +2. I scowl and pick up my two cards. A Blue 7 and Red +2.

Apparently, many people play differently, but the way Kenji was taught says that you are not allowed to play a card the same turn you just picked up one.

He also told me he used to play with his parents.

Red 9 is what he puts down. I have no cards that I can respond with, so I pick up another card. A Red 4. My dreams of winning this game of UNO fade away more and more with each card I pick up.

"Brainless delinquent," I mutter under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

He places down a +4 and says "UNO", but it doesn't matter. This is my chance. My chance for redemption. To avenge my lost UNO. Payback.

I throw down my Red +2 and stare him down. This is what he gets for trying to beat me, for thinking he even stood a chance. Now he has to pick up 6 cards and it's all ove-

A +4 card falls from his hand on top of my +2. He...wins?

Kenji jumps up from his chair and starts cheering. "Woohoo! Guess who just won! Me, motherfucker! Yeah! I win! Take that, you insufferable dipshit!"

"Moron!" I snap back. "This is a game of luck. Rest assured, if it came down to skill, I would have destroyed you within two minutes."

"What I'm hearing is a sore loser!"

"I am not a sore loser! You uneducated swine!"

"Ha, look who is breaking out the meaningless insults. Ran out, Warner? Got nothing to insult me on?" He taunts.

"Not at all, I simply have too many. For example, you incompetent imbecile, you have absolutely zero fashion sense. Those sneakers do not at all go well with those trousers, and your shirt doesn't even match your skin tone. Amateur!"

To my regret, Kenji actually looks down at what he is wearing. It is a grey T-shirt, black joggers with three white stripes down the side, and black runners. Overall, it is not too bad, especially considering the available options here, but I had to respond in some way.

"Okay, well my bad that I grew up at Omega Point and never got the chance to even buy my own clothes. What would you know about that, knowing that you probably have closets full of colour-coded clothing, made from the finest silks and materials?" He mocks.

"You're overexaggerating," I reply. It is mostly suits.

"And you're an inconsiderate ass. When the hell did I ever have the chance to find myself some decent clothes? Definitely not while the world was going to fucking hell and it was up to us to fix it. Fuck off."

He looks genuinely upset. I realise, too late, that he is right. At the same time, I hate him for making me feel bad.

I sigh. "I apologise for that last comment. It is not your fault, nor is the outfit as bad as I said."

I feel the shift in his mood when he asks me "What's wrong with it?"

The question surprises me. I would not have expected him to care what I think, but he recognises that I know my way around the wardrobe.

Also, since he started dating Nazeera, I have noticed subtle changes in his life. He started styling his hair a bit neater (she always ends up ruffling it, but I think that's the point), going to the gym (they have a small one at the Sanctuary) a lot more and doesn't swear as often. I do know about the deal he made with Castle, but he seems to be sticking with it a lot better since Nazeera started giving him dirty looks when he swore. I am pretty sure Castle told her to do that.

Whatever it is, he is a lot more put-together nowadays but could be a lot more so if he changes his style. That is something I could help with. But, am I willing to use my free time, my knowledge and my clothes to help this idiot?

I am shocked to find that the answer is yes. I want to say that it is because he is friends with Ella, but I do not lie to myself. He was there for me during the break-up, during my panic attack, was with me when we saved Ella from Oceania and was right beside me for my wedding.

I check my watch, a wedding gift from Nazeera.

"Ella and Nazeera said they will be back by 9:00 pm, which leaves us with just over 4 hours. We can go to my house and fix your fashion disaster."

His eyes go wide. "Wait, actually? You'll help me out with this?"

"Let's go," I say, my back already turned from him, walking out of the tent. "Before I regret this."

Welp, here's this! I really don't know much about fashion so someone (me) is going to have to do some research before writing Part 2 to this or find a way to write so that her obvious lack of fashion sense doesn't show. Hope you enjoyed!

#around 1.6k words #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #wattpad #aaron warner #kenji kishimoto #bffs #shatter me #fanfiction #fanfic #warnette #kenzeera #kenji x nazeera #warner #warner x juliette

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recurring-polynya · 4 months

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Writing/Art Update 01.23.2024

Me, Oct 24, 2023:

This is the sort of thinking that leads to 100k fanfic. I will try to come up with things to fill the space and then I will have too much stuff. That's just how it is, I guess. Wouldn't it be nice if this could just be, like, 60k, and I could be almost done?

Me, Nov 28, 2023:

I think that once I figure this out it will either be a clear path from now to the end and probably be like 8 or 9 chapters + an epilogue OR it will spiral wildly out of control, some other fucking subplot will sneak in, and it will go 12+ chapters and I will cry a lot.

Me, Jan 9, 2024:

Either that, or I'll just keep writing chapters, like Zeno's fanfic. I sincerely hope that doesn't happen. I will die.

Me, today:

Fuck.

So the good news is that I have finally finished the scene that I have been wrestling with since early December. It's two scenes now, because I wanted to swap narrators halfway thru, but it's really the same scene.

The less good news is that this came out 🎵8721 words🎵 and I still have three more scenes budgeted for this chapter in the outline. I mean, on one hand, at least I produced a significant amount of something for as long as that took. On the other hand, I feel like this dumb thing is now growing faster than I can write it. I've only made it up to roughly 11am on Saturday (the fanfic ends early Monday morning). Maybe it's not as bad as I think. I still haven't decided if Chapter 7 is just going to be super long, or if I am going to bump the other three scenes to the next chapter. I am putting that decision off until I actually write them and probably also most of Chapter 8. Mostly, I am just hoping I don't to add another chapter to the outline (I strongly suspect I am going to have to add another chapter--#11-- to the outline).

None of this will matter when it's done! I don't actually care how long the thing comes out (that's your problem, reader, I simply love big numbers). It's just that I want to be done, and the longer this gets, the further away that feels.

I haven't done a top level word count in a while because I've been working in messy temp documents, but I finally pasted my new scenes back into the main doc. Part B currently stands at 27,724, for a running total of 64,597, which makes it my fifth longest fanfic at roughly 2/3 done. There's kind of a ways to go before it overtakes Between Tides, but I think it might just happen.

Gosh, y'know, it's honestly kind of surprising I got as much writing done this week as I did, considering my kids were home nearly the whole week between snow days and a planned asynchronous day. Am I back on my groove? I sure fucking hope so.

I kept up with my drawing reasonably well, too--it was baked goods week. I did one tutorial, two one-day scribbles, and I drew last week's cake in the style of a GBBO illustration, which took me 3 days, but I'm really happy with the way it came out (so, 6 out of 7 days, I guess). I have another fanart (or possibly two) that I'd like to do in time for Byakuya's birthday, so that's probably what I will focus on this week.

#writing update #art update

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squireofgeekdom · 6 months

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haven't done a writing update in a minute, outside of doing wip memes, so --

meet in the middle, chapter 26, the very last chapter -- I think I last counted this at 35 scenes, now I'm counting it at 33, with three of those scenes not having been placed in the outline, i'm pretty sure i've shuffled and consolidated some things, also i may just be off in my counting, who the fuck even knows what i'm doing. Anyway, 7 of those are almost entirely complete, 13 are partially done with 4 of those being more than half done, and 13 are not started.

damn. usually breaking it down like that helps me realize i'm further along than i thought but uhhhhh this really just reminds me how much further i've got. and it's been over a year. trust me, no one is more frustrated at how long this is taking or wants this fic to be done more than i do. cheerleading is. welcome if you want to. That said, all told, writing and outlining and notes and all, the draft is already 8k/30 pages, so it's not nothin, and I do really love some of the scenes I'm finally getting to writing/finishing, and I feel like I've got a bit of momentum. Just gotta keep coming back. 2024 guys, 2024. (knock on wood)

Other things I'm working on - you think a year and change is a while, the Believe AU series hasn't been updated in two+ years cause whoops, that did in fact grow a plot and an ending and it took a hot minute to figure that out. There are four fics left, and the very last one is with my first reader! (thanks M!)

Things that I've started more recently include two Lucius & Fayeth fics, for High Rollers Aerois, inspired by my relisten through (which I've almost finished up!) The first is actually Fayeth & Aridan centric, tentatively titled 'for I cannot turn yet', structured around three scenes, one of which is done, one of which is partially done, and one of which is still notes

The second Lucius & Fayeth fic is tentatively titled 'many rings', which has four scenes mostly/partially written, and then a big ending montage and set piece I still need to break down

As for more things I've been working on for a long ass time - I started 'we both are' shortly after watching the kenobi series, so well over a year now - it's a reva & obi-wan centric fic, to absolutely no one's surprise. I've been making some progress on it recently, it's got 3 scenes pretty much complete, 8 scenes partially finished with 4 of those more than halfway done, and 5 scenes not started.

Plus, a bonus - if you've heard me mention Somnolence or #somnolence fic fuel, that's my post-canon Insomniac Spider-Man 2 fic concept, that's currently just 3k/9pages of notes and bits of writing, but hey, it has a title and a summary - it, in fact, weirdly had a title and a summary before i managed to put a single word of it on page. if you like the weird mindscape/dreamscape kind of stuff i've done in a fair few of my fics, it's going to have lots of that, and if you looked at the spider man 2 symbiote/symbiote hive mind stuff and thought 'this could be weirder and hornier', it should be up your alley XD

anyway, writing! it's a thing i do sometimes.

#squire talks #mitm #believe au #we both are #qpp: you wake up married #somnolence fic fuel

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illiterateaffairs · 1 year

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teensy weensy distractions update <3

hi friends! thanks to everyone who reached out while i was under the weather. happy to say i’m feeling good as new!

as for distractions, i’ve been able to write a bit more again and would say the next chapter is about halfway done. i was struggling, not just because i was sick, but because i needed to fully map out the rest of the story to figure out exactly what the next chapter is going to be. and i think i’ve got it all laid out!

that being said, still hoping to have chapter 8 out saturday or sunday at the latest! and can let everyone know that distractions will most likely have 12 official parts (+prologue) so we’re almost at the end! that doesn’t include missing scenes or epilogue-esque scenes that i will most likely still write. i am just as obsessed with jamie and the reader’s relationship as everyone else so will hold onto them a little longer.

appreciate the patience as i’ve worked through this and will hopefully have a new chapter for you all to read soon!!!!!💗

xo meg

#about distractions #jamie tartt x reader

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peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology · 1 year

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Rogue Wave

Wipeout - Chapter 8

Pairing: Surfer!Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: Hi lovelies! I’m gonna try and slam out these last few chapters since they’re all almost done already. I hope you guys like it! Feedback is always appreciated and encouraged, love you all!

Warnings: A touch of angst, jealousy

Summary: Tom has a terrible day

Taglist

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

❀ ゜.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．゜❀

“I don’t wanna go to work,” you whined, throwing your head down into your mattress after you checked the time.

“I won’t object to you calling out,” Tom hummed.

“I can’t, Anya would kill me,” you rolled onto your back rather dramatically, “I have to go shower, I’ll try to be fast so we can finish this episode before I go.”

“Oh so I have to suffer because you have to work?” he raised a brow.

You nodded, “Yeah, because it wouldn’t be watching a show together if you watched it without me,” you stuck out your tongue as you crawled over him and out of the bed.

You two had started binging Chainsaw Man after an early morning surf session. You’d been hoping you could catch up before you had to go to work, but unfortunately duty called about halfway through the latest episode. So you left Tom alone on your bed while you got ready. He stared at your laptop for a minute, debating how angry you’d be with him if he finished the episode without you before ultimately deciding it was best to turn his attention to his phone.

Tom had only got to scroll through a few TikToks before a familiar ping forced his eyes back to the computer. The first few lines of an email were visible at the top of the screen. Tom squinted as he read over them, his heart stopped as he read over the name. It was the firm you’d applied to in London, but with just the first few lines he couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad email. He clicked on the notification, disregarding the nagging feeling that it was wrong for him to do so. His eyes scanned the email quickly, part of him wanted to find a yes. He wanted you to exceed in everything you did and be successful, but he was selfish. What he really wanted to find was a no, confirming that you wouldn’t be moving away from him.

Luckily the universe didn’t care about Tom’s more selfish desires and he found the email was a congratulatory one. The internship was yours if you wanted it, and while he was happy for you, it was a nightmare for Tom. His stomach flip flopped uncomfortably, a sudden wave of nausea hit him, it was like the whole room was spinning. He had no idea how to cope with even the thought of you moving away. Sure you said you didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t be sure you’d still feel that way after you found out you actually got it. It would be a dream come true for you, of course you’d want to go.

As he stared at the screen the idea of deleting the email crossed his mind. It wasn’t that he wanted to hurt you or sabotage you, he just didn’t want anything to change. He wanted to erase the idea of moving from both of your minds and just keep everything exactly how it was. Maybe if he were a worse person he could have erased the email, but he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he did something to sabotage your future. Unlike Tom you had plans for your future, you had specific goals you wanted to reach and you knew what you needed to do to get there. The internship was the best move for you and your career, and there was no way Tom couldn’t support you in that. He was selfish and hedonistic, but he cared about you too much not to put you first. He just wanted you to stay with him. He hated the thought that he’d end up just a memory to you, just some boy you hooked up with one summer. You two were supposed to be together always, things just worked best that way.

Tom pushed your laptop closed and rolled onto his back. He felt guilty just for having the thought, and he was worried about what would happen when you left the shower. You’d obviously be excited and he’d have to force himself to be happy for you, as much as he wanted to just tell you to forget it. He thought about what he could say or do if you told him you were going to take it. The thought alone made his chest ache and his cheeks burn.

“Oh come on, I was gone for like ten minutes, you better not have passed out,” you scoffed as you returned from the bathroom.

Tom had been completely lost in his own thoughts, taking no notice that you’d already left the shower, “Sorry, I promise I wasn’t sleeping,” he sat up. You’d already dressed yourself in a pair of shorts and a bikini top. He watched as you pulled a shirt over your head and began packing your bag, “I, uh, accidentally opened your email, sorry, the notification just popped up…”

“Oh, whatever, I don’t care,” you shrugged it off and glanced at him with a little smirk, “Was it a steamy Adam and Eve email?”

He hummed and nodded, “No, uh, I think you should probably just open it.”

You knit your brows, Tom didn’t get nervous often, it made you suspicious, “What is it?”

“Just open it,” he pushed the laptop across the bed towards you.

“Okay…” you opened the computer and began reading the email.

Tom watched your face flash from confusion to excitement in a matter of seconds. A big smile overtook your lips and you slammed your hand over your mouth, “I got the internship,” you stated in disbelief.

“Yeah, you did,” he did his best to sound excited, but he wasn’t sure he was faking it very well.

“Holy shit…” you kept gaping at your computer, “Holy shit I actually got it,” you turned your attention to him, smiling wider than he’d ever seen, “Oh my god I can’t believe I actually got it, this is like… Holy shit,” you stepped back from the computer, your eyes started to water and you made a quick move to wipe them, “I’m so happy.”

It was a bittersweet moment. Of course Tom was happy for you and it made him so happy to see you so excited, he just dreaded what it meant for the future.

“Of course you got it, I told you would,” he stood, “Congratulations.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, jumping and squealing excitedly, “I’m so happy Tom, you have no idea,” you had to wipe your eyes again as you looked back at the computer, “I just can’t believe this, it’s like, the best thing that’s ever happened to me!”

He couldn’t help smiling when he saw you so happy, “Well you deserve it, you work harder than anyone.”

You hugged him again, this time pressing your lips to his excitedly. He was happy to catch you and kiss you and hold you close. He just couldn’t help himself from asking about what was to come though, “So you think you’ll take it?”

He was anxious for you to answer, but you were too elated to really consider the question.

“Yes, no, maybe, who cares!” you sighed happily, “I’m just so happy right now, it’s so validating and just… I don’t know, it just feels like I’m really doing the right thing, like I’m really gonna be able to do this…”

“I could have told you that anytime Flower,” he smiled back at you, “I’m really proud of you.”

Your cheeks flushed and you pulled him down to kiss you again, “I love you!” you declared before snatching your laptop off your bed, “I’m gonna go tell Grace, she’s gonna freak!”

You ran off, leaving an absolutely stunned Tom all alone in your room. It hit him like a brick wall. Of course he loved you, and he knew you loved him. You were best friends after all, but you hadn’t said it out loud to each other. It was an excited outburst on your end, but he couldn’t help imagining a confession. It was just so strange to hear you say it. He told his other friends he loved them, and he never flinched when Harrison or Grace or anyone else told him they loved him. It was just a little different with you, because your relationship wasn’t just friendship, not really. There was something deeper than that, something deeper than just sex. Saying I love you couldn’t be platonic, not when it was you and him.

“Fuck,” Tom sat on the edge of your bed and gripped the edge of your mattress.

He thought back to when you’d decided to see each other exclusively, when he’d accused you of catching feelings. You weren’t the problem though, he was. He knew it now and he had known it then too, he was just in denial. He denied being jealous about Riley and Adrien too, but deep down he knew the truth. He just hated the idea of you being with anyone but him.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard you and Grace start yelling from across the hall. Rather than face his own feelings or try to sort himself out he got off the bed and went to join you. He leaned in the doorway while the two of you jumped around and squealed and hugged. Grace started tearing up and you spun each other around like some cheesy sitcom. Tom just smiled. He was happy he was there to see such a happy moment of yours. Whatever was going on with him was his problem, and he’d sort out his feelings some other time.

তততততততততততত

Tom had gotten pretty emotional on his short drive home. His mind was reeling with what ifs and he wanted nothing more than to just shut it off. So he started packing up his surfboard as soon as he got home, hoping to hit the waves and clear his mind. He was planning on driving up to little north beach he sometimes took you to in hopes that he’d be the only one there. Harrison was at work and Adrien had been in his room when he got home so neither of them would try to tag along. Which was perfect, the last thing he wanted was to talk to anyone.

“Hey Tom,” Adrien stepped out into the garage while Tom was trying to quickly clean his board, “Can we talk for a minute?”

Tom fought the urge to roll his eyes. He didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment, but especially not him, “What’s up?”

“You know I’ve been thinking about the other days a-”

“I was kind of a dick, I know, sorry,” he apologized quickly, hoping to end the interaction as quickly as possible, “And I’m sorry for cutting you off too. I was just in a bad mood after all the flying.”

Adrien nodded, “Right, I get that…” he trailed off for a second, “Are you good man? You seem a little rushed. If you're running late or something I can just catch you later...”

“I’m fine,” he forced a smile, “There’s just supposed to be some really good waves tonight, I’m anxious to get out there.”

“I’ll make it fast then,” he cleared his throat, “Thanks for apologizing, I know I was kind of prying too, I shouldn't have done that, it’s just that…” he trailed off again, “Look you were right, I’m into (y/n). I just didn’t want to make things weird you know?”

Tom pursed his lips. He was tempted to yell, he couldn’t blame Adrien for developing feelings for you, but it still pissed him off, “Yeah, I figured. No offense, but you don’t hide it very well.”

“I know,” his cheeks tinted a few shades darker, “Look man, I was just trying to figure out what’s going on with you two cause I’m into her, and I wanna ask her out. I know you guys were hooking up and I wanted to make sure it was just that before I made any sort of move. And you know, I figured I should make sure that’s cool with you first so there’s not any sort of weird tension in the house,” he rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s not cool with me,” Tom gritted his teeth. He really wanted to yell at him but he tried his best to stay composed, “You barely know her, you just think she’s pretty.”

“That’s not true, we hung out while you and Haz were gone,” he argued, “I mean I always thought she was pretty sure, but helping her with all her application stuff made me really into her. I don’t know her as well as you sure, but the whole point of dating is to get to know someone better.”

“Well if you want my approval or something it’s not happening,” he shook his head and grabbed his board off the table, walking away to go strap it to his car. He hoped that would be the end of it.

“Why not?” Adrien pressed, “I mean I get it if you have feelings for her or something but-”

“I don’t,” he denied it quickly.

“Right, you’ve said that,” he pursed his lips, “I’m not gonna hurt her or anything if that’s what you're worried about.”

“Well that wasn’t even a thought until you brought it up,” he scoffed, “I think it’s a bad idea. Like you said, it’ll just make things tense. I’m not trying to be a douche here Adrien, just don’t do it. It’s not a good idea.”

“I wouldn’t be weird about it Tom, I know you guys were hooking up, it doesn’t bug me.”

“You’re saying that like you already know she’ll say yes,” Tom looked down at him from the top of his Jeep, “What I mean is that it’ll be weird and tense when she turns you down and then she comes over to see me. It’s best if you just try to move on.”

“You don’t know that,” he bit back.

“I do actually, so just drop it,” Tom swung into the driver's seat of his car, “Like I said, I don’t wanna be a douche here, but I will if you don’t back off.”

“Oh don’t worry you already are,” Adrien crossed his arms, “Whatever man, I was just giving you a heads up.”

Tom laughed. The idea of you two going out was so absurd to him that he didn’t know what else to do, “Right, well you let me know how that goes for you.”

“Yeah, whatever, have fun out there.”

“Oh I will,” he flashed a condescending smile, “I’ll see you when I get home.”

Adrien walked back inside without another word.

next chapter

❀ ゜.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．゜❀

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