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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 3 months

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In Another Life

Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader, Dean POV

Summary: When Dean wakes up in another life with you, he begins to question your friendship and realizes that he has loved you all along. But how can he change that? (I’m so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Tropes: Angst, Fluff, Pregnancy Fluff, Mutual Pining

Word Count: 5.5K (I have an addiction don't judge me)

Warnings: I don’t think there’s any. I’ll say mention of gore, but for one second. Maybe one allusion to sex, but not really. Some swearing (once or twice). Dean might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Dean’s perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. This is my first time writing for Supernatural, so please be gentle. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics

Main Masterlist

*********************************************

Dean couldn’t remember what happened last night only that the bed beneath him felt like an old friend welcoming him home. The night before ghosted across his mind, hovering just out of reach, memories of a dream barely forming from a fog of uncertainty. He fades in and out of sleep in a mist that soothes his aching body.

“Dean?” A soft voice whispers.

Dean groans and squeezes his pillow tighter against his chest to avoid waking up. He didn’t care what time it was, all he knew was that he didn’t want to get out of bed.

“Leave me alone Sammy.” He grumbles into the pillow.

“Dean.” The voice says again, this time with a happy laugh that sounds nothing like Sam.

His eyes open, blinded by the sunlight that streams through the large windows on the other side of the bedroom.

Wait. Where am I?

“Dean we have to get up or we’ll be late for the party.”

Dean looks towards the voice and realizes that he’s not squeezing a pillow, it’s you. You’re facing him, hair fanning out over the pillow beneath your head, eyes wide and crinkled around the edges, smiling at him.

“Y/n?” Dean says it hesitantly, arms tightening around your waist.

“No no no. Don’t look at me like that. I will not be roped into staying in bed. We can’t be late for your mom’s birthday party and you promised you would come with me to pick up the cake.”

“But-“ Dean couldn’t remember how he got here, only that something feels wrong.

“No buts.” You giggle, before leaning forward and kissing him.

Dean freezes, confused, but the soft movement of your mouth against his erases any uncertainty. He eases his face forward nudging his nose into yours to deepen the kiss. Dean doesn’t know how he got here, but all he knows is how natural it feels to be here with you. Before he can stop himself he rolls you over your back, bringing a moan from you that vibrates though his skull. His fingertips blaze a trail along your hips.

“Easy there tiger.” You smile up at him. “You don’t want to crush Zeppelin.”

Dean’s confusion makes you laugh, before he finally looks down between you. “You’re pregnant.” He whispers, noting the protrusion of your abdomen.

“I mean I think so.” You laugh in a way that makes his heart jump and buckle.

Dean lays his hand down on the smooth skin where your shirt pushes up. Why can’t I remember this? He thinks to himself confused, searching for memories he can’t recall.

“I believe we’ve talked about it several times. And it was you who decided to stay up until 4 am painting the nursery.” Your hands gently brush his hair back out of his face. “You did such a good job baby.”

Dean reaches for the memory, but he can’t seem to

grasp it. “I did?”

“Mhmm. Look at you, you’re still covered in paint.” You smile wider picking up the hand that rests on your belly to show him the splashes of cream colored paint flecked along the back of his hand. And as you do he notices the ring on your left hand.

“Are we married?” Dean tries again to grasp for his memory but comes up empty handed. He strokes his thumb along the back of yours examining the ring.

I should remember that. How could I forget that we’re married?

“Feigning amnesia will not make me stay in bed with you. No matter how cute you are.” You gently lay your hand against his chest pushing him back so you can sit up in bed.

Dean can’t help but notice how beautiful and carefree you look. Hair catching fire in the light from the window, t-shirt brushing against the top of your thighs, and how you smile at him with so much love it makes something catch in his chest.

“Dean?” You suddenly look worried. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “I’m just tired I guess.”

His cell phone rings where it sits on the nightstand, drawing his gaze to the alarm clock and car magazine that sit on top of the dark wood.

“You better answer that. It’s probably Sam asking us where we are.” You kiss him on the cheek, before standing up and walking into the closet on the edge of the bedroom.

Dean watches you go, his eyes tracing your familiar figure as you leave the room, before reaching for his phone.

“Hey where are you guys? Jessica’s freaking out because you haven’t brought the cake.” Sam’s voice triggers another memory for Dean, but this one remains allusive.

“Sam?”

“Dean.”

“Um.”

“Dean are you hungover or something?”

“No. Sorry, just running a little late-“ Dean apologizes looking around the bedroom. It’s small, filled with light from the open window that shows a quaint backyard. The dresser on the wall opposite the bed has photos of him and you, photos of Sam and Jessica, and a photo of Mary and John Winchester. Dean’s eyes stop on the photo as a memory triggers at the back of his mind, but Sam interrupts the thought.

“Well come on. Dad’s not going to like it if you guys miss mom’s birthday-“

“Dad?” Deans memory spikes again and he sees his father sitting in the drivers seat humming along to a song on the radio. Another memory flashes, Dean and his father standing behind the impala with Sam looking into the trunk.

“Yes dad. Your boss. Our father. Dean are you okay? Y/n said that you were painting the nursery last night all by yourself. You could have told me. I would have come over to help-“

“I’m alright Sammy.”

But he doesn’t feel alright, something is definitely wrong.

“Okay well hurry up. I’ll see you when you get here.”

Dean hangs up the phone and sits on the end of the bed with it in his hand.

You walk back into the room wearing a green sundress. Your hair is soft again, falling over your shoulders in a way that makes Dean’s breath catch, effortlessly beautiful.

A memory of you wearing jeans and a leather jacket washes across his mind of you standing with him at the back of the Impala reaching in for a shotgun while he knocks your hand away.

“Dean?” You walk towards him, this time standing between his legs. You place your hands on his shoulders and he can’t help but turn to look at the wedding ring. “Are you sure you’re okay? Because if you’re not feeling well we don’t have to go today. I can call your dad. But I just thought your really wanted to go. You hate missing your mother’s birthday. It’s usually you that drags me out of bed.” You trail your hand against the side of his face with a worried expression, to turn his gaze back on you.

Someone deep in the back of his mind the expression triggers something and he sees a memory of you. Except you’re holding a machete in your right hand that drips blood on the floor but, the look of worry in your eyes the same.

Where could that be from?

“I don’t know.”

“Hey.” You whisper, sitting down in his lap and his arms can’t help but secure you there, burying his head in your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I’m scared too.”

“What?” Dean raises his head from your shoulder

“We’ve talked about this. You’re going to be a great dad. And honestly we probably won’t know what we’re doing, but that’s how everyone starts.” Your fingertips drag through his hair in a soothing motion.

Dean tries again to grasp at earlier memories of this life, early memories of you, but all he sees are motel rooms. Motel rooms where you sleep on a pullout couch in a corner and where Sam sits at a small table shuffling through endless books and papers.

Why?

Dean can’t understand, because that life seems so different than this one. This one where you look softer and happier, where you share a bed and are married. He thinks about the other memories, where your smile is not as bright, where there’s a hardness to your face, but still just as beautiful. Another memory of him and you sitting in a bar drinking beer, another of you laughing at something he said and hitting him, and finally one of you reading in bed while Dean sits at a motel table and watches you softly turn the pages.

Deep down Dean knows in his bones that in those memories you and him are just friends, but he allows himself to indulge in your touch, enjoying the comfort that comes with being with you.

“It’s not about the baby.” Dean sighs. “I just can’t remember how we got here.”

“Here?”

“Married.” His arms tighten around your waist not wanting to let go. You’re the only thing he recognizes in all of this.

“Um well, my car broke down and I brought it to a mechanic shop where I met a devilishly handsome man with green eyes.” You smile at him. “Who refused to let me leave until he bought me dinner.”

Dean stares at you.

“Practically kidnapped me. But you were so charming I couldn’t resist.” You lean closer to whisper in his ear. “Not to mention sexy covered in grease and wearing a meatloaf t-shirt.” You kiss him before he can respond, and he loses himself in you. The way you hold him close, the way your fingers work up into his hair to secure him right where he wants to be, and the way you feel in his arms wipes away any uncertainty. “As much as I’d like to go back to bed with you, we’re going to be late.” You whisper against his lips.

And Dean allows himself to be dragged away.

*********************************************

“Did you remember to order the parts for that ‘76 Camaro right?” John Winchester asks Dean, but Dean’s not focused, he can’t focus on anything.

The drive over to his parents house was different. Instead of sitting on the opposite side of the front seat of the impala, you had sat in the middle, holding his hand and leaning against his shoulder, humming softly.

It made driving for Dean especially difficult. The memories of you in his car that came across his mind while he drove distracted him.

You in the backseat shouting something at Dean while he completely ignored you rolling his eyes, you sitting in the front seat with a map trying to direct him while Sam slept in the back, you singing to “The Eye of the Tiger” with him while Sam tried to close his ears, and finally you asleep in the front seat with Dean’s jacket draped over you. That last one stayed in his mind. He liked how you looked wrapped up in his jacket, breath fogging the glass window, while Dean tried his best to drive smooth and slow so you wouldn't wake.

But you in the front seat holding his hand and leaning against his shoulder while humming along to the music blew all of those memories out of the water. All Dean wanted to do was exist there and then.

When you both arrived at his parents home Dean tried not to be disappointed. Now he was too distracted watching you talk and laugh with Jessica and his mother across the room to listen to anything his father said.

“Dean are you listening?” His dad tries again.

“Huh?” The cold beer in Dean’s hand drips condensation against his skin. He turns to look back at his father.

Another memory of him momentarily distracts Dean, this one of John leaving Dean and Sam in a motel room so he can go hunting.

Did we ever go hunting? Dean tries to think of a time where they went out into the woods to shoot some deer, but comes up empty handed. A few memories of him and Sam toting guns rise to the surface, but he can't remember why they had them.

"You'll have to excuse Dean, he's still mentally painting the nursery." Sam snorts into his beer.

"Shut up."

"Don't tease him Sam. I'm sure that Jessica will have you turn your office into a nursery before you know it." You appear on Dean's left, raising his arm around you so you can lean into his side. Dean automatically tightens his arm around your shoulders.

"Don't joke about that y/n."

"Uh-huh. You can't hide in that big fancy law firm forever. She'll find you." You smile up at Dean in a way that makes his heart feel like its stopped beating.

Why can't I remember any of this life?

"She's right." Jessica comes over to kiss Sam on the cheek.

"I do not hide at the firm-" Sam rolls his eyes.

"You do."

Mary Winchester comes over. "Are you fighting at my birthday party?"

Dean's father puts his arm around his mother, pulling her into his chest with a smile he hides by taking a swig of beer.

"No mom, we're not-"

"Sounded like a fight to me." You whisper to Dean, and he can't help but smile at you.

"It's not a fight y/n!"

"Don't yell at my wife Sammy." Dean says before he can stop himself. He thinks about how natural it sounded coming out of his mouth.

His wife. You're his wife. He thinks and presses a kiss to the top of your head that makes you sigh into his chest.

"I'm not yelling at y/n."

"Sam we're just teasing you." Jessica laughs, placing her hand against his chest. Dean notices the ring on her own finger, and a memory of Jessica rises in the back of his head. Jessica standing in the darkness of an apartment, while Dean holds on to the front of Sam's shirt, her eyes wide and confused.

But it vanishes when you wince in his arms. Dean's eyes are drawn back down to you, worry spiking in his chest.

"I'm okay." You whisper. "Just think Zeppelin is hitting his limit."

"You guys go on home. I think that John has grilled Dean about the garage enough." Mary smiles, before taking a step forward to hug you. Dean is disappointed when you leave his arms, but smiles despite, watching you with his mother.

"Let the little linebacker get some rest." John hugs you.

"Of course. Thank you so much for letting us come. I'm sorry we were late." Dean watches the subtle blush of your cheeks as you apologize.

"I'm sure it's my son's fault." Mary moves to hug Dean.

As soon as she does Dean is overwhelmed by a surge of sadness as another memory of his mother rises in the back of his mind that he can't quite bring into focus.

"Mom?" Dean whispers.

"Hmm?" She looks up at him confused. "We'll see you on Tuesday for dinner. Okay?"

"Okay."

"We love you."

"I love you too mom." But something sticks in his chest when he says it.

“Don’t forget to order the parts.” John says shaking Dean’s hand.

“Sure.”

“Bye Jessica. Let me know if you need us to bring anything for Tuesday.” Dean watches you hug her and just for a moment Dean sees Sam holding a bouquet of flowers at a gravesite.

What is happening?

*********************************************

When Dean pulls the Impala into the driveway of your home something still feels wrong. After saying goodbye to everyone he still can’t shake the feeling that he forgot something. The radio plays "Black Dog" filling the silence as the car idles in front of the house.

“Dean!”

“What?” He turns to look at where you sit beside him in the front seat.

“Feel.” You grab one of his hands from the wheel and place it against your abdomen an excited smile gracing your cheeks. “Little future drummer."

The kicking against the palm of his hand makes Dean smile, leaning forward into where you sit beside him. Happiness breaks in his chest like the crest of a wave. He can't remember a moment in his life where he felt this happy, this much love for someone.

"Y/n?"

"Mhmm."

"I love you." Dean refuses to believe that he has said it to anyone else ever in his life, can't remember wanting to say it to anyone else, can't believe that he will ever want to say it to anyone else.

"I love you too."

He leans down to kiss you, hand still against your stomach, drawing you further into him to breathe you in. Everything else vanishes, just the feel of your soft lips against his, the tickle of your hair against his cheeks, and the pulse of his son's kicks against the palm of his hand.

But then it's all gone.

*********************************************

"Dean!" Sam's voice jars him into reality, his eyes opening to see his brother standing over him, one hand on his shoulder. "Dean are you okay?"

"What happened?" Dean sits up with a groan, ignoring the headache that throbs behind his eyes.

His eyes adjust to the dim light. He's in a long room where wooden tables sit every few feet covered in dust and machinery blanketed with old sheets. The musty smell fills his nose, replacing the smell of your shampoo that lingers under his nose from when you were in the front seat with him.

"Djinn ambushed you. Y/n and I got here as soon as we could."

"Y/n?" The memories of the dream strike him in the chest all over again, merging with memories of reality. "Where is Y/n?"

You enter the room out of breath, blood flecked across your cheeks and holding a baseball bat that drips a dark liquid onto the concrete floor. “It’s dead.”

"You sure?" Sam asks raising an eyebrow.

"There's enough brain matter on the floor in there for a zombie buffet." You shoulder the baseball bat. "So yeah, it's dead."

Dean’s eyes trace your body taking in the leather jacket and dark t-shirt his memory flashing to the green sundress and beautiful smile. You’re half-smiling, but Dean can see the hardness in your face again and understands where it comes from.

She wasn’t a hunter. He thinks of the dream version of you, where your hair fell in soft curls, but now it’s tied back in a ponytail. His eyes drop to your abdomen expecting more, but disappointment flicks in his heart. It wasn’t real.

“Dean are you okay?” You step closer to him. The smile has dropped now, replaced with a worried expression.

He flashes back to when you asked him that in the dream, when you sat on his lap and tangled your hands in his hair, sighing into his mouth as he kissed you.

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

He traces your face again but every time he does he only sees the other version of you, the version that’s in love with him, married to him. And he knows that here you are just his friend.

“Yeah.” He says again standing up. “Let’s get out of here.”

The ride back to the motel is silent. Dean doesn’t put on any music, too afraid that it’ll remind him of the memory of you and him in the front seat while his son kicked against his hand. Instead, all he can think of was how happy he was in the other life, how in love with you he was-

Dean knew that it wasn’t just a fantasy, that he really is in love with you, but now after seeing how everything could be, it weighed on his chest. Each time you looked at him he wanted to pull you close to him, hug you, kiss you, but he knew you would pull away. Because this version of you was not his.

“I’m going to go to that diner on the corner. You guys want something?” Sam looks around the room expectantly, but Dean doesn’t look up from the carpet.

“Sure.” Dean hears you respond. “Maybe just a burger and a piece of pie. Preferably apple but I'll take cherry if they have it."

“Okay. Dean?” Sam asks again.

Dean shakes his head. He can’t eat. Not now.

Sam hesitates at the door worried. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t want anything.” Dean snaps.

“Yeesh don’t bite my head off.” Sam throws you a shrug before leaving.

Dean is aware that it’s just the two of you now, the memory of the two of you in bed surfaces making him tighten his grip on the edge of the blanket beneath him.

“Dean?” You whisper.

“What?” His voice comes out harsher than he means it to.

“What’s wrong? You can tell me.”

“Nothing is wrong.” But he can’t look at you, not when he knows he'll look up and you won't be pregnant and not when the other version of you still has a hold of his heart.

“Dean you’re my best friend I know when something’s wrong. Plus you haven’t been able to look at me since you woke up and you never say no to food.”

“I’m fine.”

“Dean-“

“Just leave me alone damnit!” He snaps at you, able to raise his gaze from the floor for one second. Dean immediately feels bad, watching the pain in your eyes as he pushes you away. But he lowers his eyes to the carpet once more to avoid your gaze.

You sigh, but don’t get angry with him. “If you don’t want to tell me that’s fine. I'll just leave you alone then.”

And as soon as you leave to take a shower he feels the loss of you beside him.

He listens to the sound of the shower, feels the passing of time, but he does not move. The memories of the dream rise and fall, replacing the darkness of the hotel room with brilliant light. The memory of the sun catching your hair on fire as you laid next to him in bed tracing your fingertips along his jaw, the memory of you in the front seat of the Impala leaning against him and humming while you hold his hand, the memory of the party where he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you tightly into his chest, and finally the memory of the last kiss you shared in the front seat of the Impala each dance across his mind. He acutely feels the loss of your body against his, the loss of your lips, and finally the sound of your voice telling him you love him while his son kicked against his hand.

“Dean?”

He looks up at you. You look softer than you did. The blood is gone from your cheeks, your hair falls over your shoulders still wet from the shower, effortlessly beautiful, he decides. You’re wearing one of his old t-shirts that he gave you and a pair of sweatpants. It does something to him, watching you stand there in his shirt. It hangs past your waist like a dress, making you look smaller than you are. The smell of your shampoo wafts out of the bathroom, something familiar that makes his throat tight.

“You know when that Djinn got me a few months ago it threw me for a loop too.” You say softly leaning against the doorway of the bathroom. “Everything felt so real. It was hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t.”

Dean remembers when that happened. When you vanished out of the blue while checking out a case alone and he and Sam tore apart the small town looking for you. Dean remembers how worried he was, how desperate he was to find you.

I loved her then too. Dean realizes looking at you. How did I not know?

Dean remembers the aftermath, when you woke up and wouldn’t look at him. How your gaze was almost haunted and how he had to carry you out of there because you couldn’t move. He remembers you laying in bed and turning away from him and Sam when they had asked you what was wrong and the following day when you acted like nothing happened.

“What did it make you see?” Dean whispers, noting the way you shift back and forth on your feet. He hadn't seen you nervous before, seen you face down demons and vampires without batting an eye, but now you looked vulnerable.

You look down at your feet. “If I say it you can’t laugh.”

“I won’t.”

“Dean, I’m serious.”

“I promise I won’t laugh.” He watches the tension in your shoulders.

Why would she be afraid to tell me? We talk about everything.

“It was us.”

“What?” Shock tugs at his heart and for a second he thinks that he heard you wrong.

“It was us. We were married. We had 2 kids. My brother was still alive and my parents were talking to me again. I was happy there. It was hard to come back. Not that I’m not happy, but just that it’s hard to think you’ve lived a life that doesn’t exist. Especially one so different than all of this.” Dean watches you take in a deep breath, tapping your finger against your bicep, avoiding his eyes. “That was when I realized I was in love with you.”

Dean’s heart stops beating. “What did you just say-“

You look up and smile tightly. “It’s when I realized I was in love with you. That’s why I was so messed up. I didn't know how to-“

Sam chooses that exact moment to walk in loaded with bags of food. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing much.” Dean watches you easily shift your expression to hide what just happened, smiling at Sam as if you hadn’t said the one thing that Dean had been trying to say to you since he woke up. “Just trying to convince Dean to let me work on Baby. I think I’m wearing him down.”

Dean had never realized how much of a good liar you were until this moment, sure he had seen you pretend to be a government agent, but this was different.

“Like that’ll happen.” Sam hands you a bag of food before turning to look at Dean. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Dean watches you pull out the burger, stunned by your confession.

You place the burger next to him on the bed. “Eat this. It’ll help.”

“But-“ He looks up at you, wanting to finish the conversation.

“I promise I’m not that hungry Dean. I’d rather have the pie. Unless you’re going to fight me for it?” You smile raising an eyebrow.

Dean doesn’t understand why you’re acting like you didn’t just say you were in love with him. He gazes at you, searching your face. For a second he sees the mask slip, but before he can comment it’s gone.

“No I won’t.” He whispers.

“Good.” You turn to the made-up pull out couch and fold your legs underneath you with the slice of pie balanced on your knee, before reaching into your bag for a worn paper back.

Dean sits there watching you turn the pages. She loves me. The memory of you in his dream in the front seat of the Impala whispering it to him doesn’t hold the same weight because now all he can hear is you saying it here, now.

Dean can’t move. He wished Sam would leave again. He wished Sam would leave so he could bring you into his chest and kiss you, so he could tell you the one thing he wished he said ages ago.

But he doesn't. All he does is sit there and watch you read.

*********************************************

A few hours after Sam and you have fallen asleep Dean lays in his bed and stares up at the ceiling. He can hear your soft breaths against the pillow, the crinkle of the sheets as you move in your sleep. Usually he allowed himself to fall asleep listening to you, but tonight all it did was keep him awake. Each time he shut his eyes he saw the memory of you in bed with him burning against his eyelids and each time he shut his eyes he heard the real you telling him that you loved him.

Finally, he can't take it anymore.

Dean gets up and makes his way over to the pull-out couch, pausing once to move the paperback book out from under your head. It wasn't the first time that you'd fallen asleep reading, and Dean thought it was cute.

He slides into the bed behind you, gently touching your shoulder to wake you as quietly as possible.

"Hmm." You inhale softly.

"Y/n." Dean whispers.

He watches you turn towards him, eyes blinking in the darkness to rouse yourself from sleep. You hair is flared out over the pillows, eyes hazy. “Dean what are you-“

Dean moves his arm to your waist before pulling you flush into his chest, lips finding yours. The memories of the kiss in his dream are everywhere, but none of them compare to this. You sigh into his mouth, bringing your hands into his hair. Dean breathes you in. You still taste like apple pie, body soft against his, lips smooth and welcoming.

“I love you too.” He whispers against your mouth, eyes finding yours in the darkness of the hotel room.

Your smile breaks him. “It made you see us didn’t it?”

“How did you know?”

“The way you looked when you came out. The way you looked at me. I think it’s the same way I looked at you when I woke up." You brush back his hair and Dean can't help but lean forward into your touch. "What did it make you see?"

“We were married. You were pregnant and I was working at a garage. My parents were alive. Jessica was alive-“

“Oh Dean.” You cup his cheeks with a sorrowful expression, before brushing your lips against his. “I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Dean brings you into his chest, laying on his back so you can rest your head on his heart. His hand slowly traces up and down your spine. You both lie there for a few moments. The subtle beat of your heart soothing the sadness that rises with the memory of his mother and father. Your hand gently rests against his shirt, fingers curling into the soft fabric.

“I missed you.” He hears you whisper into his chest.

“What?” Dean doesn't understand. "Where did I go?"

“Not like that. I know that it sounds stupid, but we were so happy in the dream. It made me miss you, miss this.” He feels you rub your face into the front of his shirt.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Dean you’re my best friend. I didn’t want to lose any of this.” You prop yourself up look him in the eye. “I’m happy here with you and Sam. Y’all are my family and I didn’t want to jeopardize that just because I’m in love with you.”

“Did you think I would have made you leave if you told me that?” Dean can’t help but feel hurt. Sure it would have been awkward for a little bit, but I’d never do that to y/n.

“Not made me leave, more phase me out. It would have made all of this awkward and-“ He watches the weight settle on your shoulders as you press your forehead into the space between his collar bone and neck. “I’ve lost so many things. I didn’t want to lose you.”

Dean squeezes you to him. “You’re not going to lose me sweetheart.” He traces a fingertip under your chin to raise your face to his. “I love you. And even if I didn’t, you’re my family too. I wouldn’t make you leave just because it was a little awkward. We’ve all been through too much together for that.” Dean’s thumb rubs soft circles against your cheek.

“I love you too.” You whisper, the soft smile gracing your lips mirrors the memory from the dream, but this time it fills him with warmth and comfort, because this time he knows it’s real. It's not some Djinn messing with his head, it's you. You lean upwards to kiss him gently, while Dean weaves his hand through you hair to secure you to him.

But then you pull away, your smile slipping into a smirk. “So when you say family, are you saying you see me as a sister or a cousin? Because, I don’t know how things are in Kansas, but where I'm from, that's kind of a red flag.“

Dean sighs loudly. Before he rolls you over and pins you to the bed, pressing his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

“Oh. So as a sister-“ You joke.

“You are one of the most annoying people on the planet.”

“I know. It’s why you love me.” You trace his lips with your index finger, gazing up at him the same way the dream version of you did.

Dean feels warmth trail behind your touch. “One of the reasons at least.”

But just as he leans to kiss you again-

“If you guys don’t shut up I’m not going to get any sleep.” Sam grumbles from his bed. “I could have told you two idiots, that you loved one another and it would have taken five seconds.”

“You don’t have to eavesdrop-“ You say glaring over in the direction of Sam’s bed.

“Kinda hard not to when you guys are making out. LOUDLY. I might add.”

“Gonna have to get used to it Sammy.” Dean snorts, before pushing your hair back behind your ear and drawing your gaze back to his face.

“Next time you guys are getting your own room.” Sam continues. “That way I can get some sleep.”

“Doesn’t seem very economical.” You say, but you’re gazing up at Dean again with the smile that makes him feel like he’d swallowed the sun. “I love you.” Your voice is barely a whisper.

“I love you too.” Dean leans down once more to capture your lips against his, erasing all semblance of everything else, except the feel of your body beneath him and the warmth that surges with each breath as the dream of you becomes a reality.

*********************************************

Thank you so much for reading!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fluff #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean x reader #sam winchester

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benkeibear · 1 year

Text

☰ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬

⧫ Characters: Mikey, Draken, Nahoya

꒰ ͜͡➸ Forgiveness | ꒰ ͜͡➸ Taiju/Hanma/Kazutora | ꒰ ͜͡➸ Ran/Rindou/Sanzu

⧫ Reader: genderneutral

⧫ Wordcount: 2.1k

⧫ Summary: They have sworn to never hurt you - but during an arguement they lose their temper and their hand slips, slapping you across the face.

⧫ WARNINGS: reader getting hit, mentions of abuse, getting called slut and bitch

⧫ A/n: finally a new part to the series. The apology part will be up soon then!

☰ Mikey:

Being married to Mikey was never easy but that's what made it worth it - Nothing beautiful comes easy after all. The first time you met Mikey was way back in your childhood, harboring a crush for him since the moment your eyes met for the first time and a stupid childhood crush turned into more eventually, the feeling mutual. Of course you knew about his dark episodes, but it didn’t bother you much, accepting this side to him as it wasn’t his fault. You were also one of the very few people who can help him snap out of it - but dark impulses or not, Mikey would never lay a hand on you, that’s what he promised. He would much rather cut his own hands off if that's what’s necessary to keep you close to him.

He adored the way you always took care of him, packing him some lunch here and there or simply letting him a bath in when he got home all exhausted. He never needed to say anything it was as if you knew already what was needed and he tried to give you back as much as he could in his own way. Lately however it started to irritate him. The reason was unknown to him but the stress from leading Bonten became too much and no amount of your love could fix this - quite the opposite actually, your love suffocated him.

Of course you got more loving the more stressed he got, trying to make his life easier with taking care of more and more things, even going as far as coming to his office to bring him his favorite lunch or to relieve him of stress in other ways and he usually never minded, even enjoying it when you sat on his lap during meetings. But this time it was different as you opened the door, entering with a timid smile when the men turned their attention to the door opened much to Mikey’s dismay. „What are you doing here?“ he asked annoyed, not even looking at you.

Taken aback by his cold behavior you sighed „I brough lunch for everyone“ you mumbled, your own voice betraying you. Ran started chuckling „aren’t you a sweet one, bringing your husband food like he’s a little child“ he joked, the room erupting in laughs and giggles. As you looked around the room, everyone was laughing or at least smiling - everyone but Mikey who stood up and made his way to where you were standing, holding onto your wrist harshly before dragging you towards the door but you stopped him. „Let go of me“ you spat, trying to free your wrist and he only tightened his hold. „Leave“ he growled, looking you dead in the eyes with no love to spare which made you nod out of fear. „I- i just thought we could spend some time together“ you whispered, feeling your lip starting to quiver which he ignored. Instead Mikey made his way over to the bag you sat onto the table, throwing your homemade food into the trashcan „why do you think I’m rarely home lately, hm? I don’t have the nerve to spend time with you or eat the shit you call food“ he said monotone, everyone falling silent as the scene unfolds in front of them.

It was embarrassing, the way he spoke to you like this in front of everyone and you felt a hot tear sliding down your cheek. „Why did you marry me if it’s so horrible?“ you asked, raising your voice in desperation and he walked over to you again, eyes empty. „I don’t know what I was thinking either. Leave“ he spat, pushing you towards the door but you refused to move, instead you took your ring off, letting it drop to the ground. This action woke him up and he stared at the round object on the floor „fine. Now you’re just another slut I fucked“ he mumbled, your sob that followed clearly irritating him.

All you could see was how his hand raised, connecting with your face in a harsh slap which echoed through the silent room „SHUT UP“ he screamed, not wanting to hear you cry but before he could realize what happened you were already out of the room, Sanzu running after you in utter shock. Mikey went into a fit of rage, throwing everyone out of the room before he completely trashed it - finally breaking down himself as he repeatedly slammed his head onto the floor. He hit you. The realization finally sunk in and he despised himself for it. How could he have done this to the only person who ever truly loved him? The only person that stuck around despite his flaws… you only meant well and he ruined it.

☰ Nahoya:

Before you even got together with the always smiling Kawata you were well aware that he’s a big flirt, relentlessly flirting his way into your heart every time you came to eat at their Restaurant. When you couldn’t take the back and forth flirting between the two of you anymore, you finally agreed on one single date with him just so he would stop… one date turned into many more, falling for the man behind the playful banter. The day you got together he promised, he even swore that he will be loyal, you own his heart and he doesn’t want anyone else because he has the best partner right at his side.

And he was loyal, that much can you say but he was still flirting with every living being. Sure you trusted him not to go further than simple flirting but it was l painful to witness, especially when this woman was all over him, going as far as running her hands over his abs, dangerously close to his crotch. You couldn’t even blame her, he was handsome after all but he made no effort to stop her wandering fingers, enjoying the attention even. When he whispered something in her ear which made her giggle you had enough, stormin off to the kitchen where a clueless Souya became the victim of your little anger fit, trying to reassure you that his brother would never cheat on you, but still it’s not okay that he didn’t stop her. Please don’t make him choose a side, he loves you both so much.

The rest of the day you avoided your boyfriend like the plague, having enough of his „harmless flirting“ since he didn’t even care about how it affected you. Only inside the walls of your home you looked for a conversation, not wanting to go to bed angry. „Hoya… we need to talk“ you mumbled softly, almost scared and his eye twitched ever so slightly at your tone. „If it’s about your little Tantrum, leave it. I don’t want to hear it“ he said serious, turning his attention back to the game he was currently playing. With a sigh you sat down next to him, wanting to rest your head on his shoulder but he shrugged you off, clearly upset with you which made you angry. „You have no right to be angry with me! She was touching you all over and you even enjoyed it instead of stopping her“ you raised your voice, frustrated by his childish behavior. You could see from the corner of his eyes that his smile slowly faded „can you stop being such a jealous bitch? It’s not like I fucked her or anything“ he raised his voice as well now, scaring you further but you had to stand your ground. His game was lost by now since his attention was on you now, waiting for you to cave in and agree or to say something, anything. „I know you didn’t but it hurts to see you like that. You’re my boyfriend and I love you after all“ you mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

A chuckle escaped him „I can go to bed with whoever I please“ he said cold, annoyed by how clingy you were being and his words stung like a knife. Your head snapped up to look at him, face becoming emotionless „Fine. With everyone except for me. It’s over“ you said calmly but he mistook your calm behavior as an invitation to fight, his hand coming down on your cheek with so much force your whole head was throbbing.

Now it was his turn to be concerned, eyes wide open as his hand reached out for you, never quite touching you as you backed away from him, face full of betrayal as you nodded. „It’s over Nahoya Kawata“ you whispered as the tears started to fall, leaving his place as fast as you could and he let you leave, too shocked by his own actions… this was never supposed to happen, he was supposed to love you, touch you gently and instead he broke your heart and raised his hand.

☰ Draken:

Draken always treated you like a princess, supporting you in everything and protecting you from the less nice things in life. His hands would always cup your cheeks with utmost care, as if you would crumble and fall apart if he isn’t that gentle. He might be tall and intimidating to some but to you he was a teddy bear, a gentle giant, he was your Ken. You came into his life when he thought that he could never love again after losing Emma, only to show him that he can love you and still value what he had with Emma.

Perhaps it was the way that you understood what he was going through, not forcing him to anything, instead being a good friend and encouraging him that it’s okay to go out again and date other person - but the supportive friendship ended with a confession from his side, that he doesn’t want just anyone, he wants you. You, who told him it’s okay to still love the woman he lost, she was ripped away from him in a cruel way, knowing that he would still be with her now if that wouldn’t have been the case. You, who understood the pain the grief brought along or the way he still misses her, the way he refuses to let go of her memory.

Filling this void inside of his heart would never work and both of you knew it so you never tried to replace her, instead you encouraged him to not forget her and for that he loved you, you never had to try to be her to gain his love, he loved you simply because you were you.

However all relationships have their rough patches and so did yours when he tried to make you compete with his passed lover, letting you know that she was better in some things and when her name slipped from his lips during some intimate times you drew the line. You became distant right after the incident, leaving him clueless as he didn’t even realize what has happened.

„Emma would have talked to me“ he said frustrated as you avoided to even look at him and something in you snapped. „I can’t take it anymore Ken. Emma Emma Emma. That’s all you said for weeks! I know you loved her and that it’s not easy but you need to stop comparing me to her“ you raised your voice in desperation, hot tears threatening to spill but he wasn’t phased, too caught up in his own head to realize what he’s doing. „Apparently you don’t understand. Emma would have never talked to me this way!“ he raised his voice now too to match yours and you sighed.

„Ken. I am not Emma. I am a different person. Emma is dead so stop comparing me to her, SHE IS DEAD“ You didn’t intend to scream the last part but your frustration took the best of You. What you didn’t expect was to feel the palm of his usually so loving hand connecting to your cheek with a harsh slap, immediately taking a step back he looked at you and his hand in horror.

„Shit i- I didn’t mean to… fuck“ he whispered, shocked by his own actions and the way you were sobbing broke his heart but he couldn’t reach out for you, too scared you would flinch away from him in fear - he never meant to hurt you. „It’s okay Ken. I‘m sorry I wasn’t enough“ you sniffled and slid past him, needing to leave, unable to handle the fact that the man you loved so dearly, the man who put all the stars in the sky for you just hit you.

Networks: @tokyometronetwork

#tokyo revengers x reader #Tokyo revengers angst #mikey x reader #draken x reader #nahoya x reader #mikey angst #draken angst #nahoya angst #manjiro x reader #ken ryuguji x reader #smiley x reader #manjiro sano #ken ryuguji #nahoya kawata #Tokyo Revengers mikey #Tokyo revengers draken #Tokyo Revengers smiley

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honeyboylovee · 3 months

Text

endearing

Pairing: Idol!Mingyu x gn!reader

Word count: 1.1k

Genre: fluff, established relationship!AU, implied friends to lovers

Warnings: mentions of overthinking

A/N: Long time no see… I am finally done with my end semester exams and I can now post this one which has been in my drafts for agessss. But here you go besties, a cute and fluffy Mingyu blurb.

To say that there were a few instances where you were endeared by Mingyu would be an understatement.

Mingyu always had this effect on you. No matter what he’d be doing, you’d always find it cute and oh so lovely!

It started when you were still friends and you were at a party thrown by a mutual friend. Other than them, you only knew Mingyu at the party. And so you stayed next to him…You stayed from when you saw him at the makeshift bar sipping his drink, till the time he walked you to your car. He said it wasn’t safe to enter a parking lot alone, late at night.

That day, you drove home with a lingering feeling of guilt inside yourself. Sure, you liked Mingyu’s company but you didn’t want to hold him back from socialising just ‘cause you weren’t the best at talking to new people.

Months later, you shared this concern of yours to him. His reply was instant and short but it did wonders in calming you down.

‘That’s something I wanted to do for you, lovie. And if I’m doing it for you, it won’t hold me back.’

That’s when you realised that Mingyu always had a way with his words. And the way he would comfort you with just a few sentences was so endearing to you.

———————————————————————————

Another instance was on one of your initial dates. He suggested you both visit the street food market in your city.

While you stopped at various stalls to try the delicacies, you couldn’t resist looking at Mingyu’s face. He looked so content with all the dishes you both tried, the ones that you loved, and even the ones that you didn’t like so much.

‘Hmff! I don’t think I can eat anything more.’, he exclaimed as you relaxed on a bench. The cool breeze left behind a soothing effect on your face.

‘Oh…I thought we’d go have some ice cream at your favourite dessert store.’

‘Ofcourse we will.’, he said eagerly.

‘Didn’t you just say you won’t be eating anything else?’

‘Ice cream is always an exception, baby.’, he said immediately, winking at you.

You couldn’t argue with that.

That was when you realised…again. You found Mingyu’s habit of always being so content while eating so endearing. And maybe this is weird. But who are you kidding, you always think that he’s so adorable.

———————————————————————————

Your boyfriend had recently been to Italy with his group members. They had been ‘kidnapped’ by the staff of their own company along with Na PD. And while they were in Italy, your schedules didn’t match at all due to the different time zones.

And so you found a different way to stay in contact. Mingyu started sending voice notes summarising the occurrences of his entire day, to you. And while narrating these, he spoke oh so fast… He spoke as if he had a time limit to finish these voice messages. You’d always ask him to speak slowly in order for you to understand them.

And his response was, ‘This is how I always speak, isn’t it?…or maybe I got too excited’, he chucked and continued, ‘I’ll try to speak slowly next time, yeah? Don’t want you to miss on any of the details, lovie.’

So when you get a notification of the next voice message, you rush to listen to it. And you have two reasons to do so. One was obviously because you wanted to know about his day. And the second was to see whether he remembered his promise of speaking slowly.

After listening to the first few seconds, you were assured that he didn’t remember at all. And now you didn’t mind him speaking fast, maybe ‘cause you know that he speaks fast only when he’s very excited.

And you loved that. His habit of speaking fast when he was excited was endearing to you.

———————————————————————————

It was Sunday afternoon. You ordered burgers and fried chicken for lunch. The said lunch was done and the plates, washed. So Mingyu and you decided to watch a movie, the one that you had watched several times but never got bored of. It was your favourite ‘cause it had a happy ending(and because the male lead gave off strong Mingyu vibes). But you’d never tell him that.

You were sitting on the couch with your boyfriend’s head on your lap when you noticed that he was falling asleep.

‘Mingyu, you can go take a nap in the bedroom. That’ll be more comfortable, baby.’

‘Hmmm…no, let’s finish this movie.’

‘We know the ending, right. If you’re tired you should sleep for a while.’

‘I’m not tired, lovie. I get sleepy around you ‘cause I’m very comfortable with you.’, he said in a low voice, ‘You know, I read this somewhere that if you always feel sleepy around someone, that’s probably because you feel safe around them. And I realised that I’ve slept several times in your lap and while cuddling with you.’

You were speechless when he said that. Finally after a good minute of taking his words in, you couldn’t help but peck him on the forehead. That kiss was your response to his revelation. He simply took your hand in his and placed it on his cheek while he dozed off again.

His ability to say the most heartwarming things so casually was so endearing to you.

————��——————————————————————

You were on a trip to the beach with Mingyu. Both of you loved the beach. It was your favourite place to go to even with a slight rise in the temperature. It was almost an hour later of being in the water and swimming when you caught sight of Mingyu standing at a distance where his feet would easily touch the land and he was facing the other side. You swam closer to him to see what he was up to. As you reached behind him, you could hear him chuckling softly. ‘What’re you laughing at?’, you asked him.

‘Oh baby, I’ll show you something, okay? Just do as I say.’

You nodded and looked up at him in anticipation after his instruction.

‘Okay, put your palms under the water and do a ‘thumbs up’ sign but only your thumbs should be seen outside the water.’

‘Umm, I don’t know what it’s gonna do, baby. I don’t get it.’, you said, confused.

‘Just do it for me, lovie.’

You did as he said, only keeping your thumbs out of the water. Looking at your thumbs that were now wrinkly from being in the water for too long, Mingyu burst into giggles. You watched him as he let out his cute, high-pitched giggles but you were still so confused. How was this funny to him?

Clearly he read the confused look on your face and spoke up, ‘I find silly things like this funny.’, as he continued to giggle while looking at your thumbs.

Maybe you’ll never understand the fun part in your wrinkly thumbs. And you don’t want to, as long as you can make Mingyu giggle. Even if it means doing several such silly tricks. Because Mingyu’s laughter was always so endearing.

#seventeen x reader #mingyu x reader #mingyu fluff #seventeen fluff #idol mingyu x reader #seventeen imagines #mingyu imagines #fanfiction #seventeen fics #mingyu fics #fluff #seventeen #mingyu #kim mingyu

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httpisaoki · 2 months

Text

forgive or forget ft. yu jimin

-> part one. next. not proofread !

warnings. mentions of divorce, reader is referred as 'han junhi'. that's all i think?

"don't...just..give me one more chance-" she wasn't done, her words faltered, her mouth drying out. she didn't want to sign the divorce papers, she wanted to run, to escape the fact that she'd ruined the marriage you've both built together.

"i can make it up to you...just don't-don't divorce me" her voice was a plea now, her lips quivering. you stood firm, the divorce papers in your hands, your expression unapproachable, and she could see that you weren't going to change your mind. the divorce papers were a confirmation.

she began trembling, her knees growing weak, the feeling of her life crashing down around her was enough to make her knees give out. she was about to crumble down to the floor but her mind had registered one thing.

no, she wasn't letting you go that easily.

"wait!" she cried out, her hands rushing forwards. she couldn't let you divorce her, she couldn't let you abandon her. she grabbed the divorce papers out of your grip, the words of those papers nearly sending her down a spiral all over again. her voice was filled with tears as she spoke, "I-I refuse."

"you refuse?" you scoffed, "as if you have the right to say that." your voice was filled with amusement, finding it funny that she thinks she has a chance.

"yes, I refuse." she repeated, the tone of her voice now matching yours to an extent. her grip on the papers tightened, she wasn't giving in easily. the only right that she had here was to refuse a divorce. that's all she had now. "you're not leaving me this easily, you've put up with me for ten years, you can give me one more chance."

"you cheated behind my back, with one of my employees too, what do you expect?" you argued.

"I'll never do it again, I swear. that fling...I never even loved him, I don't even know why I did it-" she was babbling now, desperate to get you to stay, desperate to prove she changed.

but how was she supposed to prove she won't cheat again if she never tried? she could give up drinking, she could not let another man near her ever again...anything to keep you.

"why are you insisting? we married for success. for mutual gain. this wasn't out of love, it was for our companies." frustration filled your voice, pushing your hair back with a sigh.

it might have been true that you married for success but that didn't mean that love wasn't present in the relationship. there was love when you had picked her up when she was passed out drunk. there was love when you had supported her business ventures.

but she pushed that aside, those thoughts were far too scary for her now.

"please...I don't want to lose you. just one more chance. I swear I won't ever cheat on you again, I promise."

"and how am I to believe that promise, you've cheated on me for months, you've gotten caught up in an affair, and now you want me to believe that you've decided to change in one night?" your words sent her stomach sinking to the floor.

it was true, it couldn't just be changed overnight. but just the thought of you divorcing her made her want to beg again, to beg her way back to you. "please, just one more chance. just let me prove that I can change, just-just give me one more chance."

—

It annoyed you, the fact that your secretary, your best friend, agreed for a meeting between your ex-wife, saying that ‘you needed a break,’ and that it was only for business. If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t have been here. You wouldn’t be standing in front of your ex-wife right now.

You knew your success, finally building your company enough to be #1 in Korea, even achieving worldwide, you always worked hard, making you a workaholic, that’s why you were so distant to your past relationships, the lack of affection you showed because of work was one of the reasons your ex-wife felt neglected and you knew that. You had cared for her but maybe it was too late.

3 years after your divorce, you chose to go abroad to your company’s branches in Japan, having built up your company’s status, after a stressful 9 months, you flew back to korea with peace. That ended when the news of your return had been a headline for weeks and that didn’t go unnoticed by the public and to karina.

Now, you were standing in front of her, your ex-wife. The unspoken tension was enough to make a man insane. But you weren’t going to break, not after what she had done.

as soon as you stepped into the meeting room, you froze. standing in front of you was someone you hadn't seen in two years-- your ex-wife, the woman who you had divorced after she betrayed your trust. her dark hair falling onto her shoulders, the black dress hugging her curves perfectly, she looked as if she had stepped out of a magazine.

but that wasn't all that shocked you, the look of recognition was on her face as well. the memory of you two's marriage, those ten years, they filled her face with a bittersweet smile.

your eyes met but that was enough to make you feel like you were drowning in this very moment. all those emotions that you'd been feeling since the divorce washed over you, that bitterness, regret, everything.

you stood there for a moment, trying to get yourself together. she was just an ex-wife, your relationship was already a thing of the past, it was just a business now. "junhi," she greets, "congratulations on your achievements," her sweet voice filled your ears, an unsaid tension filled the room.

"is that reason why you wanted a meeting? to congratulate me on my achievements?" your tone filled with dryness, that cold facade of yours not helping.

it was awkward being around her, being in the same room as her, having to meet face to face. you couldn't stop your fingers from fidgeting with that pen in your hand, the one hand remaining tucked in your pocket.

"was there anything else you had wanted to discuss?" she paused, as if she was shocked by your sudden coldness. but she composed herself soon, as expected.

she smiled again, keeping her eyes locked onto yours. "not really, no. i just wanted to talk to you, to congratulate you in person, but you are quite busy though, so i do also want to talk about one more thing."

you raised an eyebrow, not sure what she meant by 'one more thing'. the last thing you wanted now was for her to discuss personal matters when there could be someone else in the meeting.

you waited silently for her to speak, your arms crossed in front of you, your expression unapproachable.

"what would that be?" your tone filled with disinterest, you were ready to hear what she had to say, to get the business meeting over with.

she paused, as if she was picking her words carefully. in the brief moment of silence, all you could feel was the bitter tension in the room.

her lips parted for a moment, the smile still plastered onto her face, she opened her mouth to speak again, "do you mind if we talk somewhere more...private? i want to talk about something more personal.”

"is it that personal that we'd have to be alone?" my question represented how unbothered am I or it seems so, the opposite.

"with all do respect, I don't have all day, ms. Yu." the professionalism in my tone made your heartbreak as if I had forgotten our past together. As if like you were merely a stranger to me.

your coldness made her flinch, it stung like fire in her chest whenever you spoke in cold, professional terms. your change of attitude-- no, return of attitude, it made it even worse.

she gulped, her throat growing dry as you spoke. the way you addressed her wasn't even like your ex-wife, more like a total stranger that you were handling business with.

"it's something that I don't want other colleagues listening in." she spoke softly, trying to match your tone, "it won't take long, promise."

I sighed, "apologies," the change in my tone was a surprise, "work has been stressful and I apologize if that had affected my attitude." gentleness in my voice as I looked at you carefully.

it was a surprise when you spoke gently, those few words made her take a step back, taken by surprise with the sudden change in your attitude. the tension in the room lessened, though only by a bit.

"then...let's go somewhere more private." she repeated, keeping her eyes on yours.

-> should i post the masterlist.?

#aoki's works #kpop x reader #aespa x reader #karina x reader #yu jimin x reader #domestic au #arranged marriage au #angst

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changbunnies · 5 months

Text

Aurora (18+)

♡ Pairing: Prince!Felix x Duke's Daughter!Reader

♡ Genre: light angst, fluff, arranged marriage au, royalty au, historical au, one sided pining to eventual mutual pining, slow burn-ish ??, eventual smut

♡ Word Count: 21.8k

♡ Summary: Y/N, a duke’s daughter in the southern territories of Miroh, is promised to crown prince Felix in the north in the hopes that the dueling territories will reach peace. Yet, despite how much she initially loathes the idea of being married and away from her family, she can’t help but fall in love with the prince she was promised to.

♡ Warnings: outdated traditions and views on women to suit the setting, felix is nothing but sweet but it takes the reader time to trust him, attempted cheating (not from reader or felix, you'll see), 1 mention of having children, kind of possesive felix? but not too much, i think that's it but lmk if i missed something!

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): felix calls reader "my love" (yes this needs a warning), so much kissing!! so many "i love you's!!" (a changbunnies smut staple), reader and felix are virgins, nipple play, oral (f + m receiving), handjob, unprotected piv, multiple orgasms, creampie

♡ Notes: you can also read the story on my ao3 where it is divded into chapters here, and if you're interested you can also check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

You knew well the day would come where you would be married off to a family looking to expand their power. You knew that you would have to leave behind all things you found familiar and comfortable to live in your husband’s estate. You knew that your responsibilities as a nobleman’s daughter would catch up with you sooner rather than later. And despite knowing all these things in your mind, your heart had not felt prepared for the reality of your fate in the slightest.

Your night was spent in a grand ceremony of music and laughter as two families, one yours and the other your now husband’s, as well as commoners from all over the bustling town you would now call home, celebrated your new union. You were now Lee Y/N, wife to the northern king’s one and only son, Felix. And while there was high likelihood that Felix would not sit on the throne for decades, the choice of who would become his wife was still something that had to be decided with the utmost care in the event that an unexpected tragedy befell his father.

Though you were not a princess, you were the eldest daughter of a grand duke. You were raised in elegance and novelty that most would never have the privilege of living in. You were also graceful, well mannered, and adored by your father’s people in the south, which was something the king valued when seeking out the ideal partner for his only heir. And with your union to the prince now solidified, the country was ever closer to a more unified and prosperous existence.

The ceremony itself consisted of fake smiles you had long practiced from a young age; a mask of joy and grace to hide your inner tumultuous feelings. When the celebrations had come to a close, and the time came to bid your farewells to your family as they made the long journey back home to the south, you did your best to hold back the tears and see them off with a smile. You played the role you had been taught by your elders well, giving polite words of parting to the commoners who made it the ceremony and maintaining an elegant air around the royal family that you were now a part of.

Felix let out a relieved sigh when the last of the guests departed, turning to you, his now wife, with a gentle smile afterwards. “Shall we retire for the night as well?” he asks as he holds out his arm, clearly offering it to be linked with yours. You accept the offer easily, deciding that if anyone saw you reject your husband on such an offer it would reflect badly on your family’s manners. The last thing you needed were rumors to circulate about your parents ‘not raising you right.’

“I hope you’re not too ill at ease,” he says as you exit the ballroom together, “meeting your betrothed on the same day as your ceremony is quite a shock.” He’s certainly not wrong about that; it was easily the greatest shock of your life. In fact, you spent much of your month-long journey to the northern lands in denial, utterly convinced it must be a falsehood, or some manner of prolonged bad dream you would surely wake from.

Only on your arrival in the morning, when you had finally seen the royal castle with your own eyes and met your suitor and his family face to face, did your reality smack you squarely in the face. The truth of things could no longer be rejected; you were going to be married this evening whether you wished it so or not. You were left with no choice but to conform in that very moment, to accept your fate for what it is.

“Yes, it took me no small measure of adjustment, but I am grateful that you and your family have spared no effort in accomodating me.” You offered a kind word- after all, it was no lie that his family were much kinder people than you had expected them to be. Once you reached the age of maturity, your family received countless marital requests from various suitors, many of whom were vile men beneath a mask of sincerity. You had watched your cousins marry into many such families, and found yourself dreading the day it would happen to you as well.

While it was undoubtedly unfortunate that you were forced into a marriage, the fact that Felix and his family seemed to hold genuine kindness in their hearts made you quite lucky. However, your luck being better than most did not mean you were happy about any of this. Sure, the fact that you weren’t wed to a boorish man who felt the need to treat you like an object was a good thing, but that didn’t change that the freedom of choice was stripped away from you.

You should feel relief that Felix seems to be a sweet person, or some sort of joy that your new family is seemingly considerate and caring, but you don’t. What you feel instead is.. Well, you aren’t quite sure what name to put to the feeling, though dread felt the closest. Yes, you felt a looming dread over knowing that this was your life now, and you were never, and will never, be given a choice for something different.

“If there is anything at all I can do to help you in this transition, I ask that you do not hesitate to tell me.” Felix’s voice, while still much deeper than you had anticipated it to be, was soft and kind as he made the offer. You could feel a hint of guilt for not appreciating such a thing as much you knew you should- he’s obviously trying his hardest to be kind to you, and despite that you’re just.. Unhappy. There was no other way to put it.

“I will, thank you,” you reply in your perfectly rehearsed well-mannered tone. You may hate the situation you’re in, but you won’t take it out on him. After all, he likely didn’t have a choice in this matter either, and he’s been nothing but sweet and accommodating to you thus far. As much as the rebellious part of your brain wishes to kick and scream and throw a tantrum, you don’t want to do anything that would hurt or reflect badly on your new husband.

“This is my- well, our, room,” He says as you approach two large, ornate doors, decorated with a wood carving of the royal family’s emblem standing proudly in the center: two soldiers mirroring each other with swords raised skyward, and a beautiful, intricately drawn phoenix beholden in the center. “We can enter if you wish, but I do not intend to force you to lie with me when you are not yet comfortable being next to me.”

“Truly? Is such a thing alright?” You nearly exclaim, unable to disguise the surprise in your voice at his statement. Felix smiles in the same sweet manner he has all night as he answers, “Of course! I know it’s.. Customary for newlyweds to lie together right away, but I have no desire to force you into an uncomfortable situation. And well.. I do hope that we’ll share a bed in the future, but I am more than willing to wait until you are ready.”

You felt truly taken aback as you stared at him. Sad to say, you half expected his tune to change once the two of you were alone. You'd heard many awful tales of men who are sweet and doting in the eye of the public, but change the moment they are behind closed doors, their true natures and selfish desires exposing themselves once there is no one they have to impress or keep up appearances for. And also sad to say, it wouldn't have surprised you if the crown prince was one of those awful men; men in positions of power love to flaunt and make use of it, flashing their wealth and their status and forcing those beneath them into submission. You were lucky that in your father's lands in the south, you had enough status to prevent those men from harming you explicitly.

But here you were, in a forgein land, married to a man who was second only to his father, the king, a man who held substantial power over you in every regard now that you were wed, and he was giving you the freedom of choice. And then there was the statement that followed- he wants to lie with you, would likely be pleased if you did so this very night, but is willing to wait until you want to of your own regard. It's possible he is simply a smooth talker, years of diplomatic lessons and high social status turning him into a charasmatic liar, an effortless charmer.

Was it in his true character to treat women with such consideration, or were you an exception until he got you where he wanted you? Did he sincerely view you are more than an object to be had, or was he going to play the long game, waiting until the moment you lower your guard and become comfortable to strike? Regardless of the answer, you feel truly thankful in the moment. You've had a whirlwind of emotions today, and not needing to immediately lie with your new husband takes an immense weight of your weary shoulders. You're happy to have the space to decompress alone in your own private space offered to you.

“The maid’s have prepared a room for you further down the hall. Shall I take you?” he asks, the sweet smile having not at all faded. You hesitate a moment before you nod, not wishing to offend him should you appear too eager or if this part of a game he wishes to play, using your vulnerability as a pawn. “Yes, please.” “Very well,” he replies as he leads you further past the room that you are supposed to share together. The walk down the hall is rather quick, ending just a few yards away from your starting point. “I hope you don’t mind, I wanted your room to be in proximity to mine in case you have need of me,” he clarifies as you approach the door to what will be your bedroom for the foreseeable future.

“Truthfully, it’s more than I was expecting. I appreciate it,” you smile your first genuine one of the night, truly relieved to not have to share a bed with a relative stranger right away, and to have the space you need to process what your life will be like from this night onward. Felix unlinks your joined arms and opens the door for you to enter, his apparant kindness unfaltering.

The moment you step inside your new room, you are in awe. Even for what is likely a small guest room, it’s still much larger than your bedroom back at your family’s modest estate. The furniture is well crafted and beautifully adorned in gentle blue and white shades. In the corner of the room, you see that your belongings from home have been neatly placed, with essentials on top and personal comforts at the bottom. This surprised you most of all; not only was he kind enough to prepare a separate room for you, but he had all your belongings brought here ahead of time, as if he already knew this would be your answer.

Behind you, Felix stands in the doorway, having not followed you into the room. He wore an expression of anxious anticipation, waiting to hear what you thought of where you’d be sleeping. He was as patient as he possibly could be, hoping silently that whatever opinion you held would be positive. He truly wanted you to feel safe and comfortable here, so that one day you could grow to have a genuine connection with him.

When you turned back towards him, your soft smile made the anxiety welling within his breast wash away in an instant. “It’s to your liking?” he asks, and you respond with a nod. “It’s lovely, thank you.” Truthfully, you felt another tinge of guilt for doubting his pure intentions just moments prior. The way relief instantly washed over his face was a clear indicator that he was truly trying his best to make you comfortable.

“Ah, I’m relieved to hear that!” Felix holds his hand over his heart, as if it had just been racing in his chest; and to be fair, perhaps it was- he did seem genuinely considerate in all his actions, and he must’ve been nervous up to this point. “Before I go, should I call some maids to help you remove your gown? It looks rather intricate, so..” Felix’s observation wasn’t wrong; getting your wedding gown on early this afternoon required the help of your mother, sister, and many others, and you didn’t feel you’d be able to remove everything on your own.

So, you gave your approval to receive the maid’s help, and Felix nods, “I’ll alert them quickly so you can get your rest soon. Knights will also be posted in front of your room at all times starting now, and maids will come to your room routinely, so please notify them if anything is needed urgently.” He was about to turn to leave but stops, hesitantly meeting your eyes one last time before he departs. “Uhm- good night, I’ll see you tomorrow.” His smile was bashful, and you found his subtle, soft change in demeanor oddly endearing. While you were still very much uneasy about being in this place, and had your issues with being married, it’d be a lie to say that Felix’s earnest efforts to make you happy and comfortable weren’t helpful, and that maybe with him as your husband, you could be happy someday.

You groan as you are wrestled from sleep by a quick succession of knocks on your door; not urgent in any way, but loud enough to rouse you out of the pleasant dream you were having. Groggily, you stand from your bed, rubbing your eyes as you step toward the door. You open it slowly, and come to see Felix standing before you with a tray of various foods in hand. “I’m sorry to wake you, but I brought you breakfast. May I come in?”

You nod and step to the side to allow him entry, letting your assigned guards close the door behind him. “The maids said they couldn’t wake you, so I decided to give it a try at my first available moment,” he explains as he sets the tray down on your bed. “I’m still unsure of your preferences, so I got a little of everything. I hope there’s something here you enjoy.”

It has been just a few weeks since you officially became a member of the royal family and Felix’s wife, but you still often found yourself being taken aback by just how thoughtful and earnest he was towards you. He seemed to have even the little things in mind when trying to accommodate you, and you often found yourself unsure on how to react to such kindness. In the end, you settle for a simple thank you as you climb back to your spot in bed to eat under the comfort of the blanket.

“When you’re finished, I would like to take you on a tour of the castle if you’re not opposed. I believe getting familiar with your surroundings will aid in your adjustment,” he says, watching you carefully for any change in expression. It is true that since your arrival, you’ve spent most of your time holed up in your room, not coming out unless there was need for it.

And though you were perfectly content to continue to do so, you could understand how it would become a problem, not just for Felix but for yourself as well. You can’t spend the rest of your days hiding away in your guest room, and you won’t adjust to your new life any easier if you don’t at least try to familiarize yourself with your surroundings.

Besides all that, Felix has been incredibly sweet and patient thus far. You owe it to him to try, at the very least. His face lights up when you give your agreement, an earnest delight painting his face. You weren’t sure why he was so eager to offer you comfort, or why he always seemed so happy when you returned his smiles, but that pleasant quality of his was undeniably helpful in easing the ache in your heart.

"I still have some things to take care of with my father before we begin, so take your time finishing your breakfast and getting ready. I'll be back later," he continues to smile as he stands, seemingly excited about what the afternoon will hold for you (and he is excited! There is so much to show you, and he hopes you love everything the castle has to offer.)

Your maids enter the room shortly after Felix departs, ready to help you with whatever you may need, and to begin tidying up once you've finished eating. You're not sure how long Felix will be, so you follow his advice to take your time, leisurely eating your breakfast and making small talk with the maids as you do. You were nervous to speak with them your first few days here, unsure of what sort of dynamic they had with the royal family, but you all warmed up to eachother rather quickly. They were kind, playful but still professional, and the ones around your age were especially excitable when it came to the prospect of gossip and dressing up.

Even when you weren't interjecting into conversation, you enjoyed listening to them talk about romance, what they think of the working men in town, what dresses they plan to buy with their savings and what they'll do when they have a free night to spend out. You especially liked to listen to them talk about Felix; some of them had been here for years, and they knew much about him that you hadn't come to learn yet. It seemed that he'd always been sweet and kind, gentle and shy as a boy, but grew more confident with age and experience. Despite that, according to them, there were still many times where you could catch him becoming pink in the face and shyness bloomed over it the way it had when he was still small.

It made you curious- what did Felix look like when he was shy? You were sure he must be beautiful; you're not blind after all, you can clearly see that the man you married is handsome beyond what words could describe. Being against an arranged marriage is completely seperate from recognizing that the man you were promised to looks like he was sculpted straight from God's own hands. But it takes more than beauty for you to have feelings for someone, and that's why you liked hearing the tales of his youth, moments that reflected that the Felix you met is the genuine him, no tricks and no falsehoods. And maybe one day, you would see him be shy, and seeing it would spark feelings in your gut that you hadn't felt since the time you were a child with your first crush.

“Are you ready to begin the tour?” Felix smiles brightly as he holds out his arm for you the same way he had on the night of your marriage. You had just finished taming your hair and tying half of it behind you with a ribbon when he arrived back at your room, free of whatever his duties were and ready to dedicate the rest of his afternoon to you. When you first stepped out, Felix’s timid stare didn’t go unnoticed by the maids, who insisted on helping you despite being told you were capable of getting ready on your own.

You chose a simple, muted yellow gown with white trim accents to wear from the clothes you brought with you from home. It was one of your favorite dresses to wear casually as it was light, airy, and easy to walk in. You had no plans to do anything extravagant, but your assigned maids insisted on you wearing at least some jewelry, so you let them place a pearl necklace on you with dainty earrings to match.

And so, the maids secretly beamed with delight at Felix’s reaction to your appearance (though it wasn’t their added accessories that caught his attention in the first place; it was simply you.) “I’m ready, thank you,” you say as you accept his invitation to link your arms together. Felix shifts his gaze from you to the maids, giving them instructions to finish tidying your room while the two of you are out. They bow politely, getting straight to work on cleaning as you step out of your room, and you can hear their soft delighted giggles even as you are led down the hall.

The tour started about as you expected, with Felix leading you from room to room and stating simple facts such as “this where my older sister and her husband sleep’ or ‘this is the hall where your family will stay when they next visit’ and so on. Typically, daughters move out of their family homes upon being wed, their entire purpose to give their husband’s family a successful lineage and ideal heir, but you suppose a special exception is made when you’re part of the royal family; you wonder how different your life would be if the expectation to leave your family behind wasn’t placed upon you from birth.

He has a younger sister as well, one who has yet to be wed and who you met only briefly, but you wonder if she’ll be allowed to live in the castle as well when her time comes, if her husband’s family will have guest rooms just as yours will, and if she’ll have the luxury to stay in the place she’s familiar and comfortable for her entire life. You know his sisters aren’t much different from you; women often don’t have freedom of choice, and you especially doubt the princesses ever get a say in what comes next for them (even if the king and queen are caring people), but at least they still have their home, and their family right there with them.

You were envious of that; you missed your home and your family so much. Would there ever be a day where you could see the place you grew up in again? How much older would your family be the next time you saw them? Your younger sister, who was still small and naive- how different would she be? How much taller, how much more mature? It saddened you to think about, and you had to consciously make an effort to not think about it any further, and focus instead on the things Felix was showing to you.

He skips past the dining hall and ballroom since you’ve already become well acquainted with them from the wedding ceremony, and instead brings you to the royal library as your next stop. It was an understatement to say it was gorgeous, but you could find no words to do it justice. It was the largest library you’d ever seen, equipped with grand staircases and beautiful handcrafted spandrels carved into the arches. The bookshelves reached up the ceilings and covered every wall, apart from the back section where large ornate windows filtered in sunlight from the gardens outside (which Felix assured you that you’d be seeing soon.)

“This is incredible, I’ve never seen such an impressive library!” you practically beam, unable to hide your excitement at the impressive collection of books. You’ve always been a fan of literature, spending countless hours losing yourself in fantasy worlds and star-crossed romances. “I could spend all my days here and still not read everything,” you muse with a smile as you wind your way through various bookshelves, taking note of every title that peaks your interest.

“With such an extensive collection, there’s bound to be something that suits your tastes,” he says with a smile of his own as he follows you through the winding path of bookcases, “feel free to grab anything you’d like! You are allowed to take from the library as you please.” Oh, you intend on doing just that. You suppose you should start with just a few for now though; the library isn’t going anywhere after all, and neither are you.

It takes some time, but you eventually decide on a handful books to bring back to your room first, mostly fantasy romance titles (because how can you resist the call of your favorite genre?) Felix, who had been watching fondly as you made your selections, quickly instructs a nearby maid to bring your selections back to your room before asking if you’re ready for the tour of the castle to resume.

In much higher spirits than when you began, you happily link your arms with Felix again, eager to see what else the castle has to offer you. There’s not much more for you to see on the inside; you’re briefly shown the knight’s barracks and the maid’s quarters, as well as the informal living space his family prefers to relax together in when they have the time. (It’s still extremely elegant and beautiful for an “informal” space, but you digress- they’re royalty, after all.)

He leads you to the gardens next, which until now you had only seen briefly from the windows, and wow, is it more stunning when actually in front of you than you ever would have believed. All the flowers and hedges are well maintained and vibrant in color, a cobblestone path laid before you and winding around the garden carefully, lattice fence work protecting the flowers in the back and maintaining the border.

There’s ponds littered about, the cleanest and bluest you’d ever seen, the fish inside clearly visible even at a distance. In the center lies a beautiful marble fountain, with large, meticulously detailed sculptures of what you assume to be a goddess to adorn the surroundings. It’s all utterly breathtaking, beyond anything you’d ever seen at home in the south. As you reach the end of the cobblestone path, there lies an iron wrought gazebo with matching seating and a table beneath, right in the center.

Felix unlinks your arms and steps up first, holding his hand out to you to accept as you proceed carefully up the few steps up to the gazebo. He pulls a chair out for you, smiling when you accept the seat and then takes his own seat directly across from you. There’s still a chill in the air, as spring has only just begun to set in the north, but the sunlight that filters through the iron keeps you sufficiently warm.

“Would you like some tea? You must be tired after all the walking we’ve done,” Felix asks after he’s gotten more comfortable in his seat, the iron cold at first but warming up quickly due to his own body heat. “That’d be lovely,” you answer sincerely, and he smiles again, looking around quickly for any nearby attendants he can call to assist the two of you. Within minutes you are provided with fresh tea, as well as a handful of biscuit style cookies, and you thank the maids for their quick work as warmly as you can.

“It’s been so long since I last walked the entirety of the castle grounds, I’d forgotten how tiring it is,” Felix sighs after he takes a sip of his tea, seemingly unphased by the high temperature of it. You on the other hand are snacking on the cookies you’d been provided as you wait for the tea to cool, having no desire to scorch your tongue and potentially embarrass yourself in front of your husband.

“Yes, I can’t imagine doing it daily. The maids certainly have their work cut out for them,” you empathize, truly hoping they feel appreciated for all the work they’ve done for you thus far, and have done for what you imagine to be decades for some of them. You didn’t have much help on your family’s estate back home, but it was much less grand in comparison to the splendor of the castle you now live in.

The moments that follow are serene; you listen to Felix talk about various things pertaining to the castle as you sip your tea, including stories of how he used to get lost as a child and always needed someone's help to get back to where he needed to be. You laughed once, when he told you about a time he got stuck in a utility closet and cried until he was discovered by a maid, who had to spend several minutes calming him down before carrying him back to his room.

It was a cute story, and you couldn’t help but giggle from how he dramatically explained the darkness that encompassed him and how terrified 7 year old Felix was at that moment. You were worried for a moment after that it’d seem like you were laughing at him and not with him, but the way he smiled at you after he heard your laugh told you he was perfectly happy with your reaction.

It was the first time he heard you laugh since you arrived- genuinely laugh, and he liked it. It made him feel warm, and gave him hope that you were finally starting to feel comfortable around him. He’d never hurt you, and he hoped that as you grew closer to him, you could genuinely love him one day. That’s all he wants really; to love the person he’s married to, and be loved in return.

He’s seen it happen before; his parents, whose marriage was decided long before he was born but was the truest form of love he’d ever seen, and with his older sister, who was against her marriage at first but came to be truly in love with the man she was promised to. He wanted that to, to love and be loved with all his heart, to have something special and all his own with the woman he was promised to. And he'd work hard, do everything he could to show you that he was someone worthy to give your heart to.

You stayed in the gardens for some time, simply talking and enjoying the scenery until the sun began to shift behind the trees. The shade brought a deeper chill with it, a slight shiver crawling over your skin each time the wind blew. “Let’s go back inside, there’s still something I want to show you,” Felix suggests upon seeing the way your body tensed from the chill creeping over you. You easily accept the offer, letting him lead you out of the gardens and back to the castle.

Warmth immediately spreads through you when you’re back inside the castle’s walls, body releasing its cold tension as you let Felix guide you to where he wants to go next, your arm linked in his as is coming to be your norm. You come to a now familiar hall- the one with your bedrooms, and Felix stops in front of the doors to his room, the one you will one day share in the future. “Your room..?” you ask, looking at him inquisitively.

“I’m not asking you to move in yet, just to see it, if that’s okay with you,” he explains his intentions, ensuring that he means you no harm by inviting you into the private space. Felix has given you no reason to mistrust him at all, and while there is some slight hesitancy due to your own fears, you agree easier than you expected yourself to. He’s trustworthy, you think; he’s a gentleman through and through, and he’s shown you more than once how considerate and respectful he is, so.. Why not?

The royal knights guarding his room open the doors for you at Felix’s signal, and the two of you step inside together, letting the guards close the door behind you to offer you privacy (not that you necessarily need it at the moment.) His room is similar to yours, with much of the same features, but much larger in scale and with items you imagine are specific to Felix’s own tastes. His furniture holds the same blue and white tones as yours, but with the additions of a lovely yellow, reminiscent of the sun shining in an almost clear sky.

He has a fireplace, only slightly larger than the one in your room, and you can tell even from a distance that his attached bath is very grand in both appearance and size. The biggest difference from your own room however has to be the piano sitting in the corner of his room, large and spectacular in its handcrafted design. You cautiously step closer to it, carefully running your hand over the sleekly painted black wood, fingertips tracing over the gold leaf accents.

“This is beautiful,” you say, turning back to look at him when you’re done admiring the beauty of what you can only assume is his personal piano, “do you play?” “I learned as a boy,” he answers with a beaming smile full of pride as he takes a seat in front of the keys, “I haven’t had much time to play recently, but it’s one of my favorite things to do. I always feel the happiest when I’m playing.”

He motions for you to take a seat on the nearby chaise, so you do, sitting comfortably against the soft cushion. “Would you like to hear a song?” he asks, a bit nervous but eager to show you what he can do after years of diligent practice. “I’d love that,” you reply, his infectious joy causing you to smile as well. You watch as he turns his attention to the keys in front of him, his face changing as he closes his eyes, the smile you had become accustomed to seeing fading as he prepared to focus.

The song starts soft and slow, and while you didn’t recognize the melody, you found it entrancing and indescribably beautiful and serene. You watched and listened in awe as he continued, his eyes still closed and body swaying along with the melody he was playing. His ability to play without looking at the keys or sheet music amazed you, and attested to the fact that this is indeed something he loves to do.

You clapped when he finished the song, and his expression immediately returned to the vibrant smile he often held. “That was beautiful Felix! You’re really talented,” you praise him earnestly, truly moved by his talent. “Oh, no, anyone who has played as long as I have can do that,” he insists despite the light blush crawling on his features from your compliment.

“You’re being modest,” you say, hoping he recognizes that you truly mean it, and aren’t just saying so to be kind or polite. You’ve seen a fair amount of people play the piano in your time attending balls and banquets, but saw no one as talented and clearly passionate as Prince Felix. Maybe it was because he wasn’t used to being so openly complimented, or the fact that he had never played in front of anyone but his family, but he found that the praise affected him in a way he couldn’t have anticipated.

No, it was because it was you specifically complimenting him that made his face flush and heart beat just the tiniest bit faster. Was it strange to hope to hear you compliment him more in the future? Maybe one day you’d compliment his appearance; tell him he was handsome, or beautiful, or cute even. He’d be happy with any of them, as long as they were from you. He'll tell you too- how beautiful you are when you smile, your excitement over your books cute, your very presence endearing. He knows it's too soon to call his feelings love, because how do you fall in love with a stranger in only a few weeks time? But he's certain that one day, maybe not too far off from today, it will be love, and the warmth and joy he feels whenever you look at him will expand tenfold, beyond anything he's ever experienced before now.

Since the first time you’d entered Felix’s room and he’d played the piano for you, it had become routine for you to spend most of your days there with him, listening to him calmly play melodies while you silently read your books. It was nice listening to him play while you were reading; it felt like it added a special ambience, and helped you get even further lost in the tales written on the page.

Sometimes you’d even notice him watching you read from your peripheral, smiling to himself for just a moment before he turned his attention back to the keys. When his fingers grew tired, you’d start to read aloud, oftentimes at his own request. Felix explained that he liked listening to you read, and you imagined that the feeling was similar to how you felt listening to him play piano.

Relaxing, comfortable, serene; that’s how the two of you felt listening to the other. Honestly, you were embarrassed to do so at first; after all, the book you were reading at the time had to do with with a woman in a magical fantasy land falling in love with an elf, and you would’ve been extremely embarrassed if he laughed at the concept or shamed you for your taste in literature.

However, you found that he listened to you intently, like the tale you were reading from the pages was of the utmost importance for him to hear. He’d ask follow up questions when you were further in the book than he last heard, often asking what happened next and if the characters had overcome whatever trial they had been facing yet.

Felix remembered all the details of what you read to him- the setting, the character’s names, what their thoughts and feelings were at the point you’d read them to him. It impressed you, as well made you feel warm and a little fuzzy. It showed how much he genuinely cared, that he listened to you and cared about the things you care about, that he wanted to know what you like beyond a superficial level.

Whenever night came however, you retreated back to your own room, promising you’d return the next day. Maybe it was silly to not officially move into the bedroom you were meant to share when you had begun to spend most of your days there, but you simply weren’t ready to yet. You’d grown to trust Felix quite a bit, but sleeping next to him still seemed a step too far out of your comfort zone.

You also worried it’d send him the wrong message- you didn’t want him to think anything would come of you sharing a bed just yet. You just found his presence comforting, and that was all. You knew, since the very day you first came here, that he hoped the two of you would share his room when you were ready, but you didn’t want to unintentionally give him something he thought was more than it was supposed to be.

It seemed so.. Intimate, much more than you had ever been with someone. You liked him, and you trusted him, that much was true- but enough to share a bed? It was nerve-wracking to think about, and while you knew it would happen someday, there was no need to rush it along; especially not when he was giving you the freedom and space to tackle your marriage on your own terms.

But on nights like tonight, when your heart was heavy and tears pricked the corner of your eyes, you wondered if you should’ve just moved in with Felix already. It was only a matter of time before the warm weather brought rain with it, and alongside the downpour came thunderstorms. You weren’t sure what time of night it was when the crash of thunder woke you from your sleep, but as the grogginess faded and the sound sat with you, your heart ached terribly.

You didn’t hate thunderstorms- in fact, you didn’t mind them at all, usually finding them quite pleasant to watch and listen to. It was your sister that hated them, who’d crawl into your bed every time one struck, trembling hands rousing you from your deep slumber and clinging to you the moment you awoke and offered her a place next to you. And each time a thunderstorm rolled through, you couldn't help but think about her, sadness encroaching over you without any means to stop it.

What was the weather like back home, you wondered? Had spring's rain been gentle to her so far or were the storms as prevalant there as they were here? Would your sister suffer through it alone now that you weren’t there to comfort her? Your parents were kind, but you weren’t entirely sure they’d allow her to crawl into bed with them, or to hold her close as she cried the way you always had.

How much of the remainder of her childhood would you come to miss? In just a few years time, she’ll be a woman the same as you, married into a new family and away from the last of her comforts. You don’t hate where you are now, nor do you hate Felix or the family you now call your own, but you miss the people you grew up with, and your little sister most of all.

You miss holding her hand, hugging her when she’s scared, wiping away her tears when she’s sad or frightened. You miss guiding her through the lessons you once took, helping her to understand and offering the help you didn’t have then due to being the oldest. You miss giggling together when sharing stories, how cute she looked when happily accepting and showcasing your hand-me-down dresses that were now hers.

Before you knew it, tears rolled down your cheeks, the ache in your chest unable to be ignored or pushed aside any longer. It was as if all the sadness you’d been harboring surfaced all at once, and the moment one tear fell, another followed, and another, until you were openly sobbing, unable to control or stop it from happening.

You thought again of Felix, who was just a short trip down the hall from you. Would it be alright to go see him? You promised you’d go to him if you needed something, and well.. You could use some comfort, if you were being honest with yourself. If you lit some candles and tried to read to distract your mind, all you’d effectively do is blur the pages and stain them with your tears, unable to focus on the words in front of you as your mind swirled and processed all your emotions.

Felix, while still relatively new to you and finding his place in your life, is your family now. Who else can you approach with your melancholy if not him? He’s sweet- he’ll comfort you, he’ll listen to you, he’ll be patient and considerate. In the nearly 2 months since you’d first arrived, he’s always shown you just how gentle of a person he is. And he always seemed genuine when expressing his desire to share his life with you, and be someone you could trust and rely on.

You take a few deep breaths to steady yourself, wiping the tears from your face as you rise from your bed. Your night guards seem surprised when the doors to your room open and you emerge from them, but ultimately they say nothing, letting you walk down the hall without interruption and closing your doors for you.

Felix’s guards, who recognize you even in the dim light of the candles on the walls as his wife, acknowledge you with a brief, professional nod when you stop in front of the doors. You hesitate there for a moment, wondering if this is really okay or if you should abandon this idea and turn back to your room, but his guards, who mistake your hesitance as you waiting for them to open the doors, do so as quietly as they can, motioning for you to go ahead and step inside the room.

Well, there’s no going back now that they’ve opened the doors for you, so you quietly step inside, thanking them softly and letting them pull the large doors shut behind you. The room is dark, the light that would normally pour in from the moon being obscured by the dark rain clouds that hang in the sky. His candles are all responsibly blown out, but your eyes are adjusted to the darkness enough to find your way to his bed regardless.

You swallow, hand trembling as you reach out to him, shaking him gently and mirroring the actions your sister used to take when she woke you up at night. He groans sleepily, voice deep and gravely as he stirs awake, eyes slowly drawing open, wearily looking for the source of what woke him. Felix sees you standing above him, but it takes his sleep-addled brain a moment to process the sight, half wondering if his weary eyes are playing a trick on him.

But no, it really is you, looking at him with sad eyes and a quivering bottom lip, and he can feel the tremble in your hand that rests on his shoulder now that he’s fully conscious. He sits up quickly, concern painting his face as he gives you his undivided attention. “Y/N, what’s the matter? Has something happened?” Your voice wavers as you try to tell him, I’m sad, I’m lonely, I miss everyone from home, but it doesn’t fully come out, the words dying in your throat as tears well in your eyes again.

He opens his arms to you and you crumble into them, burying your head in his chest as you allow yourself to cry. He sympathetically whispers your name, careful as he wraps his arms around you in a hug, conscious of where he allows his hands to rest. He doesn’t know what's wrong, what has brought you to such tears, but he’s glad you came to him with them. It would’ve saddened Felix to later learn that you suffered in your room alone when he would’ve gladly done whatever he could for you.

And then he hears it- the crack of thunder, lightning illuminating the room for a brief moment before you’re sheathed again in darkness. Was that the problem? Were you frightened? You weren’t of course, but he didn’t know that, and he comforted you through your sobbing as if you were. “It’s okay, you’re safe, I’m here with you,” he told you, his voice a deep whisper, holding you just a bit together whenever lightning struck, fully believing the problem was that you were afraid.

Despite the misconception, you were comforted all the same. This was exactly what you were hoping for, what you needed to hear. The storm eventually recedes, as does your sobbing, the room becoming ever so slightly more illuminated as the rain clouds pass onward. He can see your face more clearly now when you look at him again, can see how wet and shiny your cheeks have become from fallen tears, but you also appear calmer, your lip trembling much less and breaths less shaky.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asks softly, carefully, and it is now you become hyper aware of the feeling of his arms wrapped around you, of your head resting against his chest, of the sound of his heartbeat in your ears. You relax your fingers, which you realize were clutching his sleep shirt quite hard, the fabric having become harshly wrinkled from your grasp. He loosens his arms to let you lift yourself away from him, watching silently as you wipe your face clean.

You hesitate to meet his gaze- not because you feel embarrassed over your outpouring of your emotions, but conscious of how close you just were, and how natural it felt to have his arms around you. Maybe the fact that it felt so right is a testament of how close you’ve grown in the time you've been here, and how comfortable he makes you feel. “I’m sorry for waking you,” you mutter quietly now that you’ve found your voice again; you know his duties leave him tired, so there’s a tinge of guilt you feel for interrupting his rest.

“Don’t say that, I’m glad you woke me,” he assures you, and he’d reach out and hug you tight again if he knew he could. You believe him- you know how earnest and sincere Felix is, and that he cares about you; maybe not in the way a husband cares about his wife, but cares nonetheless. You should be honest too, clarify why you were really crying so he doesn’t grow to think you’re genuinely afraid of thunderstorms.

“I, uh- I’m not afraid of storms, that’s not why I was crying. Well, it was, but not because I was frightened,” you explain, and Felix looks a bit puzzled, but nods anyways, listening carefully to what you tell him. You tell him everything- how your sister was afraid of them, how you spent many dark nights easing her fears, and how your tears were born from how much you miss her, and your family as a whole.

His heart breaks for you, truly, it does. He assumed you missed your family, he took notice of how close you were to them on the night of your ceremony, but there was no way he could’ve known how deep your pain was. And really, he can’t imagine what it’s like to be in your situation. What if it was him who had to separate from his parents and siblings to live somewhere new? Would he be able to handle it with as much acceptance and grace as you have?

You never complained about anything, even when you were saddened. You treated everyone around you kindly, never spoke ill of anyone or about your circumstances, and that’s when he realizes you have much more inner strength than he’d known. There’s a small prick of guilt he feels for taking you away from your family, but even if it wasn’t him that you married, it still would’ve happened to you someday.

He wishes he knew what he could say or do to comfort you the best; there was nothing that could completely take the ache away, of that he was sure, but if he could make it better somehow then he’d do whatever he could. You can see the gears turning in his brain, can see him struggle with finding the words to say, unsure if what he’d done for you thus far was good enough.

And there’s a new dilemma brewing in your mind- what do you do now that you’re calm? Do you just.. leave? Go back to your solitude and spend the rest of the night alone? If you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t entirely want to go back to your room. Maybe it was time for you to finally move in with Felix, and share the room, share the bed, as you were meant to. It’s a strange feeling you don’t entirely recognize and know what to do with; you just know that you want to stay here, with him, and feel his arms around you again.

Maybe it’s simply because he’s all you have here; which isn’t entirely true, but it is how you feel. Do you have a family here? Yes, the royal family is your family now too. Do you have friends here? Yes, you’ve grown quite close to your maids and other staff you interact with. But are you comfortable enough to be vulnerable in front of them, or to share your feelings of loneliness and homesickness? No, and in that regard, Felix is all you have.

Felix is your companion in this lonely place, the person who makes your days brighter and bearable through the melancholy, the one who ebbs away your sadness and replaces it with warmth. And you spend all your days with him, next to him, talking to him, sharing everything, including silence. Would it be so bad to allow yourself this comfort? To finally take a step forward and move into the room you were meant to share?

There’s a part of you that’s scared to take that step, afraid to confront what your desire to be close to him means, unsure how to unravel and make sense of the complexities of your thoughts. But there is an undeniable truth- Felix is your husband, and that would likely never change. So even if you don’t love him, wasn’t it okay to be close to him regardless? He makes you smile, he makes you laugh with his stories and jokes, he plays the piano for you and listens to you so intently, he makes you feel warm and fuzzy; and he told you he wants you to be here.

Maybe he doesn’t love you yet, but he’s expressed that he wants to, that he hopes the two of you will look at each other fondly and live happily. And maybe you don’t love him yet, but that doesn’t mean that the day you do is far off. You look at him, take in the compassion and concern he holds for you, allow the feeling of warmth to seep into your pores; you may not be in love with him, but you do still have love for him. Isn’t that enough?

“Felix, if it’s alright.. Can I-,” you pause a moment, shy apprehension prickling your skin, but you collect yourself enough to continue, “I want to stay. Here, with you.” You can see even in the low light how his eyes widen, though it’s hard to decipher whether or not his surprise is pleasant, but you hope it is given how he’s expressed his hopes for the future. “A-Are you sure?” he asks, not at all against the idea, just surprised by your admission.

“I don’t want to be alone again, at least not tonight,” you explain, hoping he understands, “And I don’t have to move in completely if you’re not ready for me to, but.. I spend all my days here with you anyways, so.. I want to, if that’s okay.” Felix’s heart is racing, his face growing pinker by the second, and he feels lucky you’re making this confession in the darkness, where you can’t easily tell how obvious his blush is.

“Of course you can stay,” he says, shifting more to the side to allow you the space you need to get comfortable under his thick blanket. He’s stiff when he first lies down next to you, unsure of whether or not it was okay to touch you, whether or not you’d even like it if something as simple as his arm being pressed against yours was alright with you. He already knew he was undeniably attracted to you, but he’d never do something if you were uncomfortable, or touch you without explicit permission, even if the touch was meant to be comforting as opposed to romantic.

But you reach out to him first, softly ask him to hug you again, and he’s more than happy to oblige your request. You can hear the rapid beat of his heart as you move in close, and you wonder if he’s nervous; you are too, to be fair. You’ve never lied this close to a man before, or let one hold you in his arms the way you let Felix, never shared a bed with anyone but family. But you want this, and despite the nerves that come with doing something so new to you, you’re happy, comfortable.

Felix’s heart begins to slow the longer you lie together, as does yours, and the exhaustion that comes with crying, as well as being woken in the middle of the night, takes hold over you. You fall asleep first, though Felix is not far behind you, the soft sound of your even breaths akin to a lullaby in his fatigued state. You’re warm, comfortable, safe; you may not have all the things that were once familiar to you, but you have Felix, a person who radiates kindness and compassion, a person who despite everything, makes you happy.

There’s part of you that wonders if sharing a room with Felix was a decision made too hastily; not because he did anything wrong, but because it came with unforeseen challenges. What was the challenge? Dressing, undressing, bathing to name a few. He was always respectful, kept his back turned to you whilst you were changing or kept himself away from the attached bath if you were in it, and you likewise never peeked towards him when the opposite occurred.

You certainly didn’t regret your decision- after all, you spent all your days with Felix, so it only made sense to spend your nights with him too now that you felt comfortable enough. But there was a certain timidness that came with undressing in the presence of a man, even if said man wasn’t looking and had his gaze fixed to the wall until you were finished. You wondered though, wouldn’t there come a day where he was allowed to look?

The thought of Felix someday looking at your exposed, bare skin made an unfamiliar feeling well in your gut- one that was entirely foreign to you, but not at all unpleasant. Butterflies, perhaps? You’d read about the sensation in your novels, the characters often expressing how seeing the one they love made their stomach react in ways strange and new. And as explained in the countless romances you read, your heart would race when he held your gaze after you emerged from the bath, your face would flush whenever his touch lingered for longer than what you would consider typical of a friendly relationship.

It was no exaggeration to say that sharing a room with Felix brought you even closer than before, and once you got past your initial shyness, the weeks that followed were some of the most pleasant you’d had. You settled into a nice routine, sharing breakfast before he had to depart to attend to his royal duties, while you spent the rest of your morning and early afternoon perusing the library shelves for your next read or sitting out in the gardens, sometimes reading in the warm light of the sun, sometimes simply enjoying the scenery around you.

You’d reunite at dinner time, sometimes sharing that time with family in the dining hall and other times eating in the privacy and comfort of your room. Felix would often insist that you bathe first, ever a gentleman to you, but on days he seemed particularly worn out and exhausted you would do your best to convince him he needed one more than you, encouraged him to relax and let the hot water soothe away any aches.

No matter the order of the bath, your nights would end the same; you’d spend the last few hours of your day listening to Felix play the piano as you read, oftentimes reading your literature aloud once he grew tired and joined you where you sat, whether that be the chaise facing the piano, the sofa across from the fireplace, or simply the bed. On the nights he was extra tired, his eyes would grow heavy and close as you read to him, and when you gently told him he was falling asleep, he’d mumble that he was still listening, urging you to continue.

It was endearing, and there was a certain joy you felt in lulling him to sleep with your softly spoken words, knowing that even as the comfort seeped into his bones and urged him to rest, all he wanted was to listen to you. You liked to think it even helped him, hoping that you brought him as much solace as he brought you, hoping that you alleviated and dispelled any troubles simply by being there for him the way he was for you.

Tonight was another such day; the changing of the season brought with it longer, warmer days, and often the sun wouldn’t begin to sink until you were already well into your nightly routine. The moon had just begun to emerge when Felix settled down on the sofa next to you, making sure he lit the candles before he sat as darkness began to settle in. It was a bit of a challenge at times to read in the dim, wavering light of the candles, but you’d grown used to it in your time as a novel enjoyer, and you welcomed the cozy atmosphere the candlelight brought.

He listened to you intently at first, but the more you spoke the words from the pages, with your steady, soft and even pace, the more sleep called to him, and it became a struggle for his eyes to remain open. His head rested against the back of the sofa, the cushion acting as a pillow for his weary body. Your softly spoken words, along with the low light the candles brought to the room, were enough to call him to sleep much faster than he’d otherwise expect.

You pause when you notice his eyes have completely closed, not sure if he’s still listening with his eyes shut, or is indeed asleep as you suspect. But when he makes no reaction to your pause, you are certain sleep has taken him, and you smile as you quietly close your book. You set it down on the nearby table, wondering if you should try and wake him, request him to move to the bed, or if it’d be better to bring over a blanket and let him be.

You look at him, quietly taking in the sight of his sleeping form. Felix is beautiful, even whilst sleeping, and you wonder if he knows that. His eyelashes are long, his freckles a unique and expansive constellation, his parted lips and honeyed skin almost entracing to look at, begging to be admired by all who look. And admire him you did, in quiet moments like this, where everything was serene, in the space belonging only to the two of you, a space where you are the only ones who exist.

Carefully, you reach out to him, gently tapping on his shoulder until he stirs. “Felix,” you call softly, and he barely opens his eyes, letting out a small, groggy ‘hmm?’ in response. “You fell asleep,” you tell him quietly, voice almost a whisper, “let’s go to bed.” He hums his agreement, which due to his deep, sleepy voice sounds more like a grumble. You rise from the sofa first, offering a hand for stability if he needs it.

He falls to the bed with a grunt, barely managing to pull the blankets up over his shoulders, and you can’t help but giggle at the display. You work your way around the room before you join him, blowing out the candles until the room’s only illumination comes from the moonlight peaking through the window curtains. You’re not quite as tired as Felix, but you settle into bed regardless, knowing that once you’re under the blankets and comfortably next to him, sleep won’t be all that far behind.

Felix has been working extra hard lately, preparing for an upcoming ball to celebrate the summer solstice. Apparently they hold it annually, as well as one for the winter solstice, but you had arrived at winter’s end and after that celebration had already concluded. It keeps the spirits of the commoners high, gives them an event to look forward to, and gives them a chance to mingle with those from other, father towns who come in to join the celebration of the season.

That’s not its only purpose however; it also gives the royal family a chance to meet with other officials and people of high standing beyond that of just letters, and ensure that they continue to have a prosperous, mutually beneficial relationship. Dukes, barons, soldiers who have returned from war-torn fields- it’s important for the king, and by extension Felix, to know where they stand with all of them.

Of course, you were no stranger to lessons in diplomacy, but you’re sure there is much more Felix has to keep in mind than simply being diplomatic. There’s a lot that goes into the politics of the kingdom, and you can’t imagine the weight that falls on his shoulders, knowing that one day he’ll inherit the responsibility of deciding the future of everyone within his territory. It’s also possible that someday, your knowledge from growing up in the south will be a vital asset to him, and that he’ll seek your input on how to govern the farthest reaches of the kingdom.

You sigh a little, moving in closer to Felix. It’s best not to stress yourself out with thoughts about governing the kingdom, or about the upcoming ball; it’ll be your first ball as a married couple in the public eye, and there’s a separate set of nerves that come along with that. You wonder how much like a couple you should act; should you stay glued to his side, act lovey-dovey for the duration of the night, or would that be unseemly for royalty to do?

It’s possible there’s no need for you to appear in love- after all, it’s no secret that arranged marriages can be loveless. But still, you think it’d be beneficial for the people to see you genuinely care for Felix- it could set a positive example, and show that the north and south have no need to fight against each other. You think if you just act natural, and don’t put too much thought and effort into “proving” you love Felix, then the people will see your honest feelings come through. And besides, you told yourself you wouldn't worry about such things now that you were in bed, so your only priority should be going to sleep.

Felix’s arm rests around your waist, which is normal for you now. After the first night, when he hugged you until you fell asleep, it felt nice to wake up with his arm still there, holding you close. He apologized the next morning when you woke up, worried that he may have made you uncomfortable, though he didn’t have control of where his arm lied once he’d fallen deeply into sleep. You assured him though that it was perfectly fine- in fact, it was comfortable, and you enjoyed the closeness after feeling so lonely.

It became a natural part of how you slept, his arm always around you, sometimes loosely, and other times strongly keeping you close. Now was one such time you were held loosely, his arm limp with sleep but you didn’t mind; it gives you the ability to easily adjust your position turning so that his hand was against your back and your head could rest close to his chest. Your movement rouses him slightly, and he instinctively holds you tighter.

You whisper an apology for unintentionally waking him with your movement, not entirely sure that he’s even alert enough to truly hear you, but you say it regardless. You guess he does hear you, because he mumbles a response, though it’s not entirely decipherable. “..ove you.” “Hmm?” you hum in question, glancing up to look at him, but it’s no use- he’s back to sleep within seconds, as if he was never awoken at all. Oh well, it likely wasn’t anything important, probably just dreamy ramblings of a tired mind, or an acceptance of your apology. Maybe tomorrow you can ask him if he dreamt anything pleasant, or if you appeared to him in your dreams the same way he had begun to in yours.

You were well into the solstice ball, sighing as you stood off to the side of all the dancing, feeling exhausted from everything you were experiencing. You thought your wedding was tiring, but this was somehow even worse; when you got married to Felix, only locals to the town were welcome inside the castle to witness it and celebrate, otherwise chaos could ensue. But with the solstice ball, any and everyone was welcome, and with that came a myriad of people for you to meet and communicate with.

Most who attended were eager to see the prince’s wife, curious about what sort of woman he’d married, and you couldn’t help but be anxious about what opinion they’d hold of you after seeing you in the flesh. Honestly, you wanted to make a good impression; you’d be saddened if you were unliked by those who would one day be your people alongside Felix. Your father was someone who governed with compassion, and the royal family were much the same, and you hoped they could see you held the same values.

Still, it was tiring to portray your best self for hours without end, and you took the opportunity for a break at the first moment you could. You stayed at Felix’s side for the first hour of the evening before going your separate ways, him mingling with various men of high status while you traveled the ballroom floor, introducing yourself to as many people as you could. There were still many people for you to meet and talk with, but hopefully they’d understand your need to take a moment for yourself.

You sipped on some water, your throat thankful for the soothing liquid, having become quite parched from all the talking you’d done. You also looked yourself over briefly in one of the ballroom’s mirrors, making sure everything about your appearance was still neatly in place; you had went out to town with Felix to get a new dress, and it arrived mere days before the ball, just in time.

You expressed that you were worried about your appearance, the dresses you’d brought from home being expensive and beautiful, sure, but still falling short when compared to the lavish gowns his sisters and mother wore. Felix, who didn’t entirely realize he was speaking his thoughts aloud, said you’d look beautiful in anything, and both of your faces went red, before he coughed awkwardly and quickly changed the subject, saying that they could simply buy you a new dress if you’d needed it.

You did also consider borrowing a gown from his older sister, but he insisted that was nonsense when they were more than capable of buying something specifically for you, and so you’d agreed to go out to town with him, going to a seamstress well-respected and trusted by the royal family. It was your first outing since your arrival, not because anything necessarily stopped you from leaving if you wanted to, but simply because it required the coordination and cooperation of the royal guard accompanying you, and really, you had no need to leave until then.

After the seamstress’ daughter took your measurements, and you answered various questions pertaining to color and style, as well as looking over and feeling various samples of fabric, you were free to leave, with the promise that once your dress was ready, her daughter would bring it to the castle, along with an alteration kit if any adjustments were needed. Before returning to the castle, Felix brought you to a jeweler, and you also passed a bookstore, where you couldn’t help but notice your favorite novel was on display.

Felix asked about it when you noticed your subtle pause to look, asked if you wanted to go inside and look around, or buy the copy of your favorite novel that was on display, but you told him there was no need. After all, you still had your very well-loved copy at home (which, while beginning to fall apart, was still perfectly readable and sentimental to you), and countless books in the library you still had interest in before feeling the need to purchase any new ones.

All that to say, your night on the town was well spent, and you were thankful how well your gown and jewelry came together, and you truly felt good about your appearance tonight. Your maids also dutifully perfected your hair and makeup, and even hours into the night, you found no imperfection with either. Felix also went red in the face when he first saw your completed look, much to the delight of your maids, who had to suppress their gleeful giggles; it seemed they loved when Felix looked at you with awe.

You allow an attending maid to take your water from your hands when you are finished with it, thanking them with sincere politeness. You give yourself another moment to collect yourself before returning to the main ballroom floor, careful not to bump into those dancing as you make your way through the crowd of people. You hoped to locate Felix, and see whether or not he’s still caught up in whatever political talk he was having when you last brushed past him.

Instead, you hear a familiar voice questioningly call your name, and you pause, stopping to look around for the source. It couldn’t be.. could it? “Christopher!” you gasp, met with the sight of a boy, now man, you hadn't seen in nearly 3 years, “What are you doing here?” “Didn’t you know? My station is just a few towns over,” he explains with a smile. Honestly, you were completely shocked. Your fathers were close friends, and though Chris was a few years older than you, you’d spent a lot of time together due to the close relationship of your fathers, both personal and professional.

While your father is a duke, Chris’ was a very well-respected knight, who earned the title of baron due to his unwavering loyalty and dedication to serving your father, having sworn his fealty to him many years ago, before you were even born. Chris had similar ambitions as his father, and dedicated himself to training from a young age, always expressing that one day he’d serve the royal family. Coincidentally, he was also your first, and only, childhood crush.

And truly, you didn’t know that he lived in a relatively short proximity to the town you now called home. Upon meeting the requirements to join the royal guard, he was sent north to receive further orders, and you’d lost contact with him not long afterwards, with the only news you’d learned being that he married a year after moving from the town you both grew up in- an arranged marriage, same as you.

His wife, as far as you were aware, was a local girl whose family offered a significant dowry to be married to such a well-respected and honorable family. You wondered more than once if he was happy, and if your father ever considered Chris as a potential husband to you, but in recent times you stopped lingering on such thoughts completely. Your situation was set in stone, and you didn’t bother entertaining thoughts on what-if’s and could-be’s now that you too were married.

“I didn’t! But it’s nice to see you again, I didn’t expect to see a familiar face,” you tell him sincerely; disregarding the childhood feelings you once held for him, it truly is nice to see a friend from home again. “I was surprised when I heard you were the one Prince Felix married, and so I had to take this chance to see you again, and see the truth of it for myself.” You giggle a little, imagine what Chris must’ve looked like when he learned his childhood friend had married someone so important.

“I was surprised too, believe me. I never anticipated marrying into the royal family,” you say, smiling as you speak. Though there were hardships that came with being relocated and away from family, now that you were growing accustomed to your life here, you actually found it pleasant. And you really enjoyed Felix’s presence, and while you were initially upset about your marriage, you had truly begun to view it as a good thing in the recent weeks.

“Did your wife come too? It’d be lovely to meet her,” you ask as a follow up, hoping she was somewhere nearby. “Mm, she’s here somewhere,” he replies, much more dismissive about the topic than you’d expect him to be. It makes you want to ask if his relationship with her is bad, but perhaps that’s not appropriate to ask given the circumstances. “Would you like to dance?” he asks, quickly shifting focus, and you hesitate, a slight frown forming on your face.

Normally, you wouldn’t be opposed to sharing a dance with a friend, but the circumstances surrounding your lives have changed substantially since you were last in contact. You’re both married, and even if it meant nothing beyond friendship for either of you, there was an image that needed to be upheld at all times, especially in the eyes of the public. And you couldn’t help but think about what his wife, or Felix, would think if they saw you dancing with each other.

Felix knew Chris by name alone from times you talked about home, but there was no way for him to know what he looked like. And in turn, you don’t know if Chris’ wife knows who you even are, if you’d be crossing a boundary in your respective relationships without even knowing it. Further still, the thought of Felix seeing you in the arms of another and being upset, or even jealous, is enough to deter you from making that decision.

You’re trying to form something real with Felix despite the circumstances that brought you together, and you won’t do anything to hinder that. You want him to know that you respect your marriage, and that you won’t put his feelings in jeopardy by entertaining the advances of other men. Not that you think Chris means anything by his request, but still- better to be safe about these things than sorry.

It’s strange though; you already knew you like Felix quite a lot, and care about his feelings, but there’s something beyond that, that makes you want to abide by the sanctity of your marriage. Technically speaking, you only have to be a devoted wife in public. It’s no secret that those in arranged marriages have concubines and secret affairs. If you truly wanted to, you could do the same, but you have no wish to do so.

Is it loyalty? Love? All you really understand is that you never want to do anything to break Felix’s heart. You also don’t know if he even has enough romantic interest in you to be jealous in the first place, but either way, that’s not an emotion you want to cause him to feel. Some may be happy to see their betrothed jealous, but you’re not that kind of woman; instead, you’d feel rather guilty and apologetic.

You glance across the crowd, spotting Felix still mingling with his father and other men of high status, completely unaware of the situation you’ve found yourself in. Hopefully, you can return to his side soon, once you're done catching up with Chris. “I’m afraid I can’t,” you finally say, hoping he understands your need to politely turn him down. “What a shame,” he sighs a bit, his hand reaching out to you and settling on your arm, near your shoulder, “You look beautiful tonight. I would’ve loved to share a dance with you, as adults.”

“O-Oh, thank you,” you mutter, taken aback by the words that left him. The Chris you knew was never so forward, nor did he ever openly compliment you. If you’re being honest, you’re not entirely sure how to respond; this was a situation your younger self would have dreamed of, but now you just feel.. odd. “I’ve always thought you were beautiful, even when we were kids. I never imagined this where life would take us, but.. If it’s your public image that worries you, maybe I could seek you out later, and we could have some alone time?” he continues seamlessly, as if this is a sentence he’s practiced in his head over and over again.

Again, this is something your younger self would’ve been ecstatic about, even prayed for, but now you just feel.. uncomfortable. You don’t feel flattered by his compliment, nor do you like the implication of his statement, and you recoil away from the hand that lingers uncomfortably on your arm. “We can't do that,” you say firmly, doing your utmost to make it clear you have no desire to partake in a scandalous relationship with him. You liked him once, but you were a kid then, and what you feel now for Felix is much more grounded in reality than the puppy love you had for Chris.

“Why not?” he asks, looking at you with eyes that would’ve once made you melt. And there is genuine hurt there, which you do feel sorry about, but you simply don’t return the sentiment he seems to have. “We're both married. Shouldn't you be loyal to your wife?” you counter; even if your marriage to Felix isn’t born of “real” love, you have no interest in infidelity, nor do you want to be the reason Chris is unfaithful in his marriage.

“I don't love her, I never have. And though I moved of my own volition, I always wondered what would’ve happened if I stayed behind, and expressed my desires to make you mine. But what of you? Do you love your husband?” His words, his question, make you swallow, unsure how best to respond. You liked him once, that much is true, but you like Felix more. What you have with him.. You value it, deeply.

It’s easy for a 14 year old to say they’re in love with their crush when they’ve never experienced what real, adult love feels like. There are times, even now, when you’re unsure of what the beating of your heart truly means, but there is one thing that you know for certain- you love Felix, much, much more sincerely than you ever loved Christopher. The difference between loving him, and being in love with him, make little difference in this case.

Though, the more you’ve thought about it, the more you’ve come to think that maybe you are really, actually in love with him. You wouldn’t desire him if you didn’t, wouldn’t be up at night wondering what it would feel like to kiss him, or what kind of father he’d be to the children you’d one day have. You wouldn’t feel a void in your chest at the thought of no longer being by his side, even deeper than the one you’d felt upon moving away from home.

And if there is anything your time reading romance novels has taught you, it’s that love is more than temporary butterflies and racing of the heart. Love is more than excitement, than desire, than the heat of his touch on your body; Love, real love, is the comfort you feel in his presence. The safety, the hours spent together talking or relaxing, even in the comfortable silence you share during a meal- that is love.

When you can’t imagine your life without him in it, when even the mundane sounds fun as long as it’s with him, when you still feel warm and fuzzy in his presence even after the butterflies have passed, that is love. Now that you’ve come to know what life is like when Felix is next to you, holding you, sleeping with you, sharing his voice and his talents with you, you never want to know what the absence of him would feel like. All of that is to say, you think you’ve had your answer all along; You don’t just love Felix. You’re in love with Felix.

“If I must tell you.. I do. I love Felix, truly. He’s a wonderful man,” you answer honestly, and Chris holds a deep frown. It must feel unfair- that’s how you felt about your circumstances at first. There’s no way for you to know how long he had feelings for you, but you were able to move on, while he clearly hadn’t. And truthfully, you feel sorry for him; none of this is his fault, but still.. You can’t change how you feel.

“Surely you don’t mean that,” Chris says, a bit desperate, and again, your heart twists. You do mean it, unfortunately for him. And you have no intention of letting him think he has a chance to change your mind, when quite frankly, he doesn’t. Unbeknownst to you, Felix would glance your way whenever he was able to, always wanting to make sure you were handling yourself well.

It was your first solstice ball after all, and he imagined it could be overwhelming and tiring for you to mingle with so many people you had never met before. He just wanted to keep an eye on you, make sure you weren’t getting burnt out from the countless interactions with others. And that’s when he sees it- a man he doesn’t know, his hand lingering on your arm, and you, looking up at him with a troubled expression on your face.

The look of discomfort you hold as the man continues to speak, hand still on you despite how you recoil.. He can’t help but clench his fists, a foreign sort of distaste bubbling within his veins. He can see your expression change as you speak- still uncomfortable, but not quite distressed. Sad, maybe? Perhaps this guy was being forward with you, and you were trying your best to look sympathetic as you gently turn him down.

“If you’ll excuse me, there’s something I must attend to,” Felix says politely as he bows towards his father and his peers, not lingering to answer questions, though he really should if he doesn’t want to appear rude. He approaches you with haste, though still careful to not appear in too much of a hurry or frantic- he doesn’t want those around him to suspect something is amiss. The man’s hand is thankfully no longer on you, he realizes as he comes closer- it’d be terribly unbecoming of someone of his status to cause a scene.

“There you are, my love! I was looking everywhere for you,” Felix says with a smile as he approaches you, wrapping you in his arms as if the other man doesn’t exist at all. Your face reddens, heart picking up; my love, he called you my love! You’re aware this is likely only happening because he spotted you and was able to perceive how you felt, but still, your heart reacts to the words nonetheless.

“Who’s this?” Felix asks as he turns his attention to the man in front of you, his hand resting on your waist in a motion that you’d easily be able to interpret as defensive, possessive. “O-Oh, uhm- this is Christopher. Do you remember what I told you, about how we grew up together due to our fathers being good friends? We ran into each other, and were just catching up,” you explain, and Chris, not wanting to make a fool of himself, easily goes along with your words.

“Oh, how lovely. It's a pleasure to meet an old friend of yours,” Felix smiles jovially, extending a hand out to Chris. He accepts it, and the two politely shake hands, with Chris feeling a degree of shame and embarrassment. This definitely isn’t his finest hour; but maybe now that you’ve firmly rejected him, he can try to find happiness in his own life, love in his own marriage.

“My deepest apologies for interrupting your reunion, but I thought it was time my wife and I shared a dance,” he says to Chris before looking back at you with a smile, and it’s so utterly charming that you practically feel your legs turn to jelly, “Shall we, my love?” God, your face must look so red right now. But after the few seconds it takes to finish processing, you gladly accept, offering a timid smile.

Felix bows politely to Chris before he leads you away by the waist, your heart still racing as you follow his lead. Away from the crowd of people, he stops and turns to you, the natural charisma he held melting away the moment your eyes meet. “Are you alright? I’m- I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable at all, I just..” You smile softly, and shake your head; I liked it, I want to hear you call me ‘my love’ again, I want you to keep wrapping your arms around me and holding me by the waist you want to say, but don't. Instead you carefully lean up, placing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you Felix.”

His face grows red, his hand reaching up to his face, fingertips lingering over the spot you kissed him. He smiles cutely, shy and sweet, heart pounding even from something so small. He’s infatuated with you, after all, and any affection from you is enough to make his body react. “Why don't we really go have that dance?” you ask with a smile, holding your hand out for him to take. You shared a dance when you first married of course, as is customary, but this one would be different; as opposed to a dance between newlyweds with no love between them, now you could say you were dancing with the only man you’d ever sincerely loved.

“Of course, my love,” he replies as he takes your hand in his, leading you to the center of the ballroom floor, both of you bashfully smiling and giddy with affection for the other. You do your best to ignore the stares of others around you, most of them just eager to see the display of love from the newest royal couple in front of them, and keep your focus entirely on Felix. You can’t help but notice the way his eyes linger on his lips before he shifts his attention back to your eyes, his cheeks dusted a pretty shade of pink contrasted against his freckles.

You really want him to kiss you, if you’re being honest, but you don’t think it’d be entirely wise to share your first kiss with the eyes of the entire ballroom on you. Maybe, if either of you can conjure your bravery later on, you can kiss in the privacy of your shared room, free to indulge in the feeling of each other for as long as you wish too. Though, perhaps you should stop thinking such thoughts for the moment, lest Felix realizes you’re blushing way too hard. For now, you'll just enjoy the moment you're sharing with him, knowing now, with all your heart, that your love for him is true.

The remainder of your night continued without incident, sharing a few more dances with Felix before you separated again to continue mingling. You saw Christopher again briefly, where he apologized for his behavior and then brought you over to meet his wife. She really seemed like a sweet girl, and you hoped that Chris would be more open to the idea of loving her now that there were no “what-ifs” keeping him held back. She also seemed quite genuinely infatuated with him, which you couldn’t blame her for- Chris was strikingly handsome, and you might have still held similar feelings for him if it wasn’t for Felix.

When the ball came to a close, you were eager to get back to your room and get your aching feet out of the heels you’d worn to match your gown, as well as get the heavy, dangly earrings off your ears. You insist that Felix bathe first, as it will take you quite some time to remove all your accessories, get your hair down from the way it was styled, and out of your intricate gown (not as intricate as your wedding gown, of course, but still enough that you wouldn’t be able to remove it swiftly.)

He didn’t take all that long in the bath, spending just enough time to wash up and effectively dry off, entering your room after he’s changed into his sleep clothes. He respectfully keeps his eyes away from you until he’s sat comfortably away from where you are at the vanity, your dress off and left only in your undergarments. You were brushing out your hair, making sure it was completely tamed and smoothed down to make washing easier before you enter the bath.

You take a quick glance at Felix before you enter the attached bath, his back turned to you as he nervously fiddles with his thumbs. You soak in the tub for some time, letting the hot water soothe you until it turns cooler, now comfortably warm as you take time washing your hair and body. Normally you wouldn’t take such a long time in the bath, but it was just so relaxing after the long day you’ve had, and you indulged in the comfort it offered you before you got out to dry off and slip on fresh clothes.

You half expected for Felix to be in bed already, but when you step out you see that he was waiting up for you, sitting atop the blankets of your bed, back against the headboard. “Sorry I took so long, you didn’t have to wait for me,” you say as you step to your designated side of the bed, mirroring his position against the headboard. “Well, I didn’t want to go straight to bed without having some down time with you,” he explains a bit timidly, and you smile, finding him endlessly sweet.

The light in the room is low, the only candles lit now being the ones closest to your bed. He sits up straighter, turning to you with a nervous disposition, and you watch him curiously, wondering what’s on his mind to make him look at you in such a way. “Listen, before we go to bed, I, uh- I actually have something for you,” Felix says, meeting your gaze timidly.

“Really? What is it?” you ask, having not expected to receive anything so suddenly. Well, sudden to you, but Felix had actually been planning this for quite some time. He steadies his nerves and turns to his nightstand, opening the drawer and digging through it until he finds what he needs- a book. You recognize it instantly when it’s in front of you; it’s a new, almost pristine copy of the book you told him was your favorite, the one you insisted you didn’t need when you stopped to look at it the day you were out together.

“When did you get this?” you ask in surprise, carefully taking it in your hands and ghosting your fingers over the cover. “The same night you saw it, I asked a guard to discreetly purchase it for you,” he explains with a soft, sheepish smile, hoping you’re pleased. “There’s something else,” he says, and you glance up at him in even further surprise. Gently, he takes the book from your hands, opening it to a specific page.

“I.. before giving it to you, I wanted to read it, understand for myself why it's your favorite. So.. I did, and there’s a part that really resonates with me, and.. If you’ll allow me, I’d like to read it to you,” he explains, and your heart stirs, thumping wildly in your chest. How is he so considerate and perfect? You almost can’t believe it, and you don't even know how he found the time to read it without you knowing, but you can ask him about it later. For now, you're much more interested in the fact that he not only read your favorite novel, but wants to share a part he loved with you, a part that spoke to him, and wants you to listen to him read it in his beautiful, deep voice.

He swallows, takes a breath, hands trembling a bit as he holds the book open and looks down at the page in front of him. You watch him with full attention, somehow feeling just as nervous; you don’t know what he intends to read, and as you yourself have read this story countless times, it’s hard to imagine which specific part he’d like the most- there were just so many possibilities and moments you loved to try and guess. But then he starts, and immediately, you feel your heart positively melt.

"Taeryn stares at her, his fingertips ghosting her skin, his eyes transfixed in her stare, her gaze swallowing him whole. And he knows, as his fingers brush her hair softly out of her face, as her cheeks burn and breath hitches with his gentle touch, that he loves her.

He loves her as naturally as he breathes air; to love her is effortless, as easy as it is to simply be. He loves her for as many reasons as there are stars in the sky- countless, never ending. She engulfs him, enraptures him, a moth unable to resist her bright, beckoning flame.

And he knows, from the way every synapse in his brain fires when their lips meet, how his blood burns in his veins simply from her touch, that there is no greater feeling beyond this. To be lost in her is God's greatest gift, and he will thank Him for the rest of his days, because what else could compare to the pure bliss of loving with all that you are, and being loved in return?”

The words that you already found so beautiful sound even more so coming from him, and you can’t help but suck in a breath as you listen to him speak the words written on the page, as if he’s mirroring the character, feeling the very same emotion. He closes the book slowly, and your heart races when his eyes meet yours again. What should you say? It was beautiful? Thank you? That doesn’t feel like nearly enough to describe how you feel or how much you appreciate this gesture.

Felix carefully sets the book to the side, his palms beginning to clam up as he looks at you. He planned this for a specific reason, but now that he’s met with the most critical moment of all, his mouth feels dry, and his chest tightens as his heart accelerates. He wants to tell you he loves you, and maybe he’s been reading the signs all wrong, but he thinks you love him too, he hopes you do.

Maybe your affection for him doesn’t go past platonic, which he would learn to accept with time, but it would truly break his heart if you didn’t feel the same. So he hopes, he prays, with all his heart, that when he tells you how he feels, you’ll reciprocate. You can tell what he wants to say, even with your lack of romantic experience, it’s obvious; no one commits to a gesture so thoughtful and romantic without the intent to become something greater. Given your time reading romance, that’s something you feel confident enough to say- Felix loves you. And you love him too.

So you meet him halfway, inching ever so slightly closer to him, looking him in the eyes as you do. His eyes dart from your eyes to your lips and then back again, his breath beginning to go uneven. Felix looks at you, eyes full of love, awe, and wonder, and not wasting another breath, he kisses you, his hands reaching to your face, holding it in his hands. It’s chaste and careful, your eyes remaining closed for several seconds after he’s pulled away, your body buzzing with elation.

“I- I didn’t get to tell you earlier, but you looked so beautiful today and I-” he swallows, nervous to continue, but pushing through it the best he could, “I wanted to tell you, wanted to kiss you, and I.. love you.” It feels as if a million butterflies are in your stomach, light and erratic in their movement, their excitement unable to be contained. “I love you too,” you admit, breathy and soft, inching a bit closer, and he does the same, until your bodies are only centimeters apart. “Is it okay to.. I want to kiss you again,” he asks, desperately awaiting your approval. You grant him it easily, and his lips are on you again within seconds.

One of his hands remains on your face, cupping it gently, while the other moves to your waist, arm wrapping around carefully, keeping you close. The foreign feelings you’d never experienced that were in all the literature you read- you feel them now, intense and overwhelming, your senses knowing nothing other than Felix. What is it that novels usually compare it to? Sparks flying? This was beyond simple sparks- it was like fireworks, bright, beautiful, bursting in your blood and filling you with warmth.

The kisses you share are slow, measured and careful, and you never separate for long, your lips always finding each other again within seconds. Felix is breathless when he finally pulls away for longer than a few seconds, his forehead resting against yours, his dark eyes looking straight into yours, countless emotions swimming in them. “I want.. can I be honest?” he asks and you swallow, whispering a soft ‘yes’ that you hope doesn't sound too nervous.

“I.. want you, really, really badly but.. truth be told, I'm nervous,” he expresses sincerely, his cheeks growing a deep shade of pink, traveling all the way up to the tips of his ears. Your face, already flushed from kissing, grows impossibly hotter from his admission. He wants you.. Like wants you, wants you? You want him too, having spent multiple sleepless nights wondering what it would be like to have each other, body and soul.

“It's alright, I am too,” you tell him honestly. “Are you?” he can't help but ask; not because he doubts you, but rather wanting the affirmation that he isn't the only one with a heart racing out of control. You nod, seeking out his hand and intertwining your fingers. “I am. But I want you too.” God, he almost feels light headed; he can't believe the moment he's secretly dreamed of countless times is actually happening. His face is hot, his blood burns, his heart thumps loudly in his chest, and you want him, you want him, you want him. He takes a breath, does his best to steel his nerves before he speaks again, “We'll go slow, so please tell me if it becomes too much.”

You nod, giving his hand a squeeze, meant to convey that you understand and will do as he requested if you begin to feel overwhelmed. “I love you,” Felix whispers against your lips before he captures them in another kiss, needier this time, more urgent and impassioned. You can't help but let out a noise of surprise at first, but you easily melt into the kiss, eyes closing as you meet his passion with fervor of your own.

His kisses are slow, just as before, but they feel more purposeful, sensual, and when you feel his tongue against your lips, begging to be let in, you easily oblige the request, opening your mouth for him and allowing his tongue to run across yours. Your stomach flips, the feeling of his tongue curiously exploring and rubbing around yours making you dizzy; you never knew kissing could feel this good.

It's so intimate to share your breath with someone, and you feel your body react in ways entirely new, but pleasant. You spend several minutes just like this; kissing over and over, letting his tongue draw circles around yours, only pulling away when one of you desperately needs a breath.

“Can I touch you?” Felix asks once he's pulled away again, and the question, along with the deep, breathy baritone of his voice, makes a shiver run down your spine as butterflies once again flutter in your stomach. “Yes,” you breathe, perhaps sounding a bit more eager than you would've wished, but really, you shouldn't feel embarrassed when he wants you just as bad as you want him.

Again, his lips are on you, but this time he allows his hands to carefully roam your body, gentle and slow in their exploration. Even though he's simply touching you over your clothes, you react to his touch as if bare, whimpering into his mouth when he palms your breasts with both hands and gently squeezes.

It's easy for his thumbs to find your hardened nipples through the fabric of your nightgown, and again you let a soft sound of pleasure pass your lips. Felix pulls away to look at you, flushed, breathless, and so, so pretty; he's never felt more blessed in his entire life than he does right now. He watches you bite your lip when his thumbs pass over your nipples again, doing your best to suppress what you perceive to be an embarrassing noise.

“Is it alright if I take this off you?” he asks, stilling the movement of his hands as he waits for your answer. “O-Only if you take your clothes off too,” you answer shyly, and he smiles timidly, finding your request more than fair. “Of course, my love. Whatever you want.” Felix stands from the bed, slowly pulling his sleep shirt up and over his head, likely feeling that you'll be more comfortable if he's the one who's exposed first. And God, you can't believe the physique he'd been hiding underneath all this time; his lean body much more toned than you could've even imagined.

He feels shy under your attentive gaze, but he continues nonetheless, taking the waistband of his pants into his fingers and pulling them down his legs. His erection, of course, doesn't go unnoticed by you, and you can't help but stare at the obvious tent it creates in his underwear. You've never seen one before, and you're infinitely curious what his looks like, but there's no need to rush to find out; you have all night together.

Swallowing down the shyness your stare makes him feel, he returns to the bed, sitting directly in front of you. You start to lift up your gown, but he stops you, replacing your hands with his own- after all, he asked if he could be the one to take it off you. You allow him to lift it up to your shoulders before you help him take it all the way off, paying no mind to where on the floor it lands once it has been tossed aside.

The shy part of you makes you want to cover your breasts and avoid his gaze, but the other part can't help but indulge in the mesmerized twinkle held in Felix’s eyes. “So beautiful,” you hear him say under his breath, his hands now making contact with your skin without a barrier. You look down, taking in the sight of his hands holding and squeezing your breasts.

Your body shudders when his thumbs once again rub over you nipples, and he loves watching the way your face changes, how your brows furrow and you bite your lip, the way you gasp when he takes your nipples between his fingers, how your eyes close and head falls back when he carefully rubs and pinches them.

He kisses you when you lift your head again, but he doesn't linger there for nearly as long as before; instead, he begins to trail kisses down your jaw, to your neck. The kisses make you shiver, and you tilt your head to the side, allowing him easier access to your heated skin. He carefully guides you back as he kisses all over your skin, so that you fall back against the bed, head not quite making it to the pillows, but you don’t particularly care.

He takes his time, leaving hot, open mouthed kisses over the expanse of your neck, his slow descent to your collarbone and the top of your chest nearly driving you crazy with want. Your breath hitches when he kisses one of your nipples before letting his tongue come out to lick it, lips closing gently around it.

He gives your other nipple equal attention once he's satisfied with his stimulation of the first one he devoted his attention to, and then slowly trails kisses down your body, below your ribs and over your stomach. You feel almost delirious with anticipation, and you half wonder if he's only going slow to drive you crazy (he isn't, of course, but you're becoming much too needy to recognize that.)

Felix caresses your legs, placing kisses over your thighs, as well as just over your panties. There's an obvious wet spot, which you can't help but feel embarrassed by once you've seen that he's noticed. You can't help it- this is easily the most aroused you've been in your entire life. “Want me to take them off?” he asks, and you nod eagerly, covering your face in embarrassment when he chuckles at you.

“You're so cute when you're shy,” he says, and you let out a whine; why does he have to say it with such a sinfully attractive voice? Your reactions boost his confidence, helping to alleviate some of the nerves he'd felt when you first began. And you really are so, so cute right now; it simultaneously further endears him to you and makes his cock throb.

“I'm going to take them off now,” he warns since you aren't looking at him, and he wants you to be completely aware of what actions he takes. You peek through your fingers, nervously anticipating what his reaction to your exposed sex will be. He slowly pulls your underwear down your legs, and you take a deep breath before you part your legs for him to see you fully.

Fuck, you're perfect. There is nothing in the world that could've prepared him for the sight of your glistening heat. He swallows and licks his lips, looking back at you before taking any further action. “Do you need to stop?” he asks, not wanting to push you too far if you aren't ready for this. Truthfully, you are overwhelmed- but in the best way possible, and you definitely don't want to stop here.

“No, want more,” you admit, trying your best not to stutter or mumble so he hears you clearly. “Tell me if you change your mind?” he says, more like a question than a statement, and you nod, assuring him you will if you feel the need to. He lowers himself so his head is between your legs, and the sight of him there alone is positively dizzying.

You hear him comment under his breath about how wet you are as his fingers rub through your folds, which does no favors for your racing heart. He then carefully spreads you apart with two fingers, and again, you see him swallow and lick his lips. Fuck, he has to taste you, needs to find out if you're just as sweet as he imagines you to be.

Everything is so new to both of you, and Felix doesn’t entirely know what he’s doing, but instinct drives him forward. You gasp and shudder when his tongue makes contact with your dripping heat, slowly but greedily licking up all you offer him. When his tongue finds your clit (a pleasant accident on Felix’s part given his unfamiliarity with the female body), the pleasured noise that involuntarily escapes you tells him he should focus his attention there.

“Feels good?” he asks before he licks again; he’s sure he knows the answer, but he still wants to hear you say it anyways. You nod quickly, another embarrassingly loud moan leaving your lips when his tongue swirls around your most sensitive spot. You’ve pleasured yourself before, in private moments with your own fingers, but nothing, absolutely nothing, compares to how Felix’s tongue feels.

His lips wrap around your clit, as if kissing it, his tongue alternating between long, flat licks, quick flicks, and swirling around it, and you’re positively seeing stars, eyes rolling back as your head falls back against the mattress. You cover your mouth with your hand, your other hand desperately clutching at the sheets beneath you, legs trembling and thighs unconsciously closing around Felix’s head.

You feel it, the familiar heat pooling deep in your stomach, your muffled moans quickly turning to desperate whines and whimpers as he drives you closer and closer to sweet release. You can tell however, that your orgasm will be much more intense than any you had ever given yourself, and it scares and excites you in equal measure. But fuck, even muffled, your noises sound so unbelievably sweet in his hears, and he wants to hear them louder, clearer.

“Take your hand away, my love, I want to hear you,” he separates from your heat long enough to tell you, and you whine, this time in embarrassment, as you lift your head up to look at him. A mistake, in hindsight- the sight you’re met with being more erotic than your heart can handle. His mouth and chin glisten with your juices, the sweat lingering on his brow making his hair stick to his forehead in a way that makes your heart want to give out- he’s just so.. alluring.

“But, the guards,” you try, and he shakes his head, not at all deterred by the fact that they stand outside your bedroom doors. “Don’t care,” he says simply, and you can tell he’s completely serious. There aren’t many things Felix is selfish about in his life, but this, you- he’ll be as selfish as he pleases. “They’re just for me, right? So I don’t care if they hear them, because you’re mine, and they know that too. So please, let me hear you.”

Oh, wow. How can you deny him after hearing that? With a shy nod, you agree to not cover your mouth anymore, and he smiles, pleased with your response, and quickly gets back to work between your legs. It’s insane how quickly your release builds back up, as if there was never a pause to begin with, and a curse leaves you between your loud, whiny moans and whimpers. Felix has never heard you curse before, but he has to admit he likes how it sounds coming from you, and knowing he has caused you to become debauched enough to do so without being conscious of it.

Before you know it, you’re seeing white, releasing all over his face as your body jolts and trembles, back arching from the bed as he continues to stimulate you through it. You eventually whine and push his head away from you, becoming overstimulated from all the attention his tongue continued to give you after your orgasm. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before he moves up your body, connecting his lips with yours again, and the taste of yourself lingering on him and his tongue makes your head spin.

Your hands reach for his underwear, trying to pull down the fabric and spring his cock free; it’s a much more forward and desperate act than you ever imagined yourself doing, but you’re so hungry for him that you can no longer think about being demure. You just want him, more than you’ve ever wanted anything in all your years on this earth. Felix takes the hint, not that it’s even subtle enough to be a ‘hint,’ and makes quick work of taking off his underwear.

The sight of his cock leaves you speechless, breathless; do they all look so simultaneously hot and pretty, or is it just because it belongs to Felix? “Can I..?” you ask, not entirely sure what you’re asking to do- you just know you want to make him feel as good as he made you feel. God, yes, please, Felix thinks, but he just nods with a slightly shy smile, shifting his weight off you and laying on his side next to you.

You lay on your side as well, pressing a kiss to his lips as your hand reaches for his cock, fingers curiously running along his length, feeling every vein and ridge. Felix releases a shuddery breath against your mouth, your fingers feeling so different from his own, small and soft, but so, so good. Your touch is intoxicating, and his body jolts when you rub your thumb over the tip, spreading his pre-cum all over it.

A soft groan escapes him when you enclose your fingers around his length, fingers not quite able to wrap completely around and meet your thumb, but it’s more than enough to have Felix feeling good when you start slowly moving your fist up to the tip and then back down. Eventually, as your fingers spread more and more of his pre-cum, his length becomes slick, and it becomes easier for you to pick up your pace, swallowing all the low groans he emits with your mouth.

But you can’t help but think- it felt so good when Felix used his tongue on you, so wouldn’t the same be true for him? Isn’t it worth trying? He opens his eyes when you take your hand away, watching curiously and with bated breath as you gently push him back by the shoulder, having him lay flat on his back as you move to lie comfortably against his legs, his cock a mere inches away from your face.

He lifts himself up to watch you, supporting his weight with his forearms, breath quickening as you take him in your hand again, sticking your tongue out to curiously lick the tip. The taste of his pre-cum is unlike anything you’ve ever had, and while you don’t think there is anything you could compare it to, it’s not unpleasant. You look up at Felix through your lashes, and God, the sight of you, so pretty and perfect, with his cock in your hand and tongue licking away at him, is enough to drive him crazy.

Would he fit inside your mouth? How good would it make him feel? Driven by curiosity and desire, you open your mouth, your tongue caressing the underside of his cock as you start to sink your head down on him, and the shaky, breathy groan he lets out in response makes your heart skip a beat and core throb. You keep your eyes on him, watching as his head falls back, his adam’s apple bob up and down, the way his stomach contracts the more you pleasure him.

The sounds that escape him encourage you to keep trying your best to take more of him in your mouth, retreating just a bit when you’ve taken enough of him to cause yourself to gag. Felix has to make a conscious effort to not buck his hips up and drive himself further down your throat, lest he hurt you or make you gag again, but fuck, it feels unlike anything he’s ever felt before. He knows for a fact he’s going to cum if he lets you keep going much longer, and so, with a shaky breath, he asks you to stop.

You pull off of him the moment he asks, looking at him curiously; you knew he was feeling good, so why did he want you to stop? He sits up completely, capturing your lips in a kiss lest you worry about how well you did for him; you were perfect, you’ll always be perfect, and even if he’s at times too shy to convey that with words, he’ll make sure you know with his actions. “I want to be inside you,” he tells you, lips still close enough to yours to easily kiss you again, to feel your breath against your skin, “do you want that too? Do you want me?”

God, yes, you want him so fucking bad. Are you nervous? Of course you are, you’ve never been so intimate with someone before, but there’s no one in this world you would rather give yourself to than Felix. You want to be connected to him, physically, mentally, in all ways conceivable. He’s the one for you, the love of your life, the most perfect man you’d ever known, so there’s not a single doubt in your mind, or your heart, that he’s the one you want to do this with, and that you want to do it now.

“Yes,” you kiss him, “I want you,” another kiss, “so bad,” and another. He’s elated to hear you say it, his relief and joy going beyond words. He would’ve waited for you, of course he would’ve, but he can’t deny how much he craves being inside you, making love to you, pouring all his love and affection into you. He loves you so, so much, and it’s reflected even in his most carnal of desires. It’s more than sex, it’s more than simply wanting to feel good; to be with you intimately is the greatest display of love you could ever share.

He lies you down carefully, making sure your head actually makes it to the pillows this time, and he situates himself between your legs, hands rubbing over your hips and thighs as he leaves another lingering kiss to your reddened lips. His hand comes between your legs, and he finds your hole with his fingers, wanting to make sure he knew where to aim his cock. You’re still so wet and warm, and the fact that he’s this close to being inside you feels like a blissful dream.

Taking his cock in his hand and lining it up, he looks at you, wanting to make sure one last time that you want him to keep going. “Are you ready?” he asks and you nod, completely, 100% positive you want him inside you. “Yes, I'm ready, please put it in,” you practically beg, and that’s all Felix needs to hear to continue. He starts to push in slowly, watching your face carefully for any discomfort or pain, stopping when he hears you let out a small hiss.

“Are you okay? Do you need to stop?” Felix asks, using all of his self control to make sure he takes good care of you, and makes your first times as comfortable as possible. “I-I’m okay, just keep going slow,” you tell him and he nods, seeking out one of your hands and intertwining your fingers. “Squeeze if you need to, okay? I won’t do anything to hurt you, my love, tell me to stop and I will.” You smile, already knowing he’d do his utmost best to make you feel safe, loved, and comfortable.

It stings a bit, but it doesn’t necessarily hurt- and Felix’s soothing words, touch, and kisses do wonders in lessening the discomfort you initially felt. Felix clenches his teeth once he’s fully sheathed inside your heat, your warm, wet walls tightly enveloping him making him almost overwhelmed from how good it feels. He thought your mouth was amazing, but this- God, it’s better than anything he could’ve ever imagined.

You can see how much effort he’s pouring into staying still until you're ready for him to move- clenched jaw, furrowed brows, sweat dripping from his brow from concentration. Contrary to what he expected, he’s the one squeezing your hand, trying desperately to ground himself and not lose control of his body, to succumb to his senses. He’s breathing heavily, forehead once again pressing against yours, but you don’t mind in the slightest.

You love how close he is, how full of him you feel, how the sting and discomfort slowly dissolves away, leaving nothing but the desire to feel him move inside you. “You can move, I’m ready,” you whisper, and carefully, slowly, he pulls out to the tip before pressing back in one gentle, fluid motion. “It’s okay? Doesn’t hurt?” he asks and you shake your head, timidly smiling at him. “Feels good, keep going,” you tell him, and he easily obliges, wanting nothing more than to lose himself in the feeling of you.

He can’t help but groan, even with the slow pace he’s setting he just feels so good, and the way you look up at him doesn’t do him any favors. Your pretty eyes, your flushed face, the way your hair has messily fallen around you, the way you clench with every sound that tumbles from his lips, letting him know how much you like hearing him- everything, literally everything about you, about this moment, is a blessing to him.

You wrap your legs around his waist, causing him to push in deeper, and his eyes roll back, head falling forward into your shoulder as another groan leaves him. He gradually starts to pick up his pace, always making sure you’re comfortable and enjoying it before he goes faster, experimenting with angles to find what feels best for you, because everything is already good for him.

He knows he’s found the right angle when you let out a loud gasp, followed by a moan when he thrusts again, and again, your hand tightly squeezing his, though he knows it’s purely because of the pleasure, and not at all because he’s hurting you or you need him to stop. You curse under your breath again, your nails starting to dig into the flesh under his knuckles, your other hand clutching once again at the sheets beneath you.

“Feels good? Tell me, tell me it feels good,” Felix practically begs in your ear, his deep voice growing higher in pitch as he drives himself closer to release, his groans turning into desperate sounding whines. “So good, fuck, love you so much, feels so good,” you babble, and Felix whines louder, hips stuttering as he continues fucking into you. He intended for this moment to be sweet and sensual until the end, but he really didn’t anticipate how your walls around his cock would drain him of his composure.

You don’t seem to mind in the slightest however- in fact, you seem to be enjoying the moment just as much as him, your legs starting to tremble as your second orgasm looms closer and your moans and whines grow in volume. He crashes his lips into yours, your kisses turning much less romantic than before, having devolved into a messy, desperate display of tongue and teeth. It’s a different sort of display of passion, but it is passion all the same, and you couldn’t ask for anything better than this; Felix is perfect in everything he does, and this is no exception.

You can feel his cock twitching and throbbing, and you know he must be close; so you keep your legs tightly wrapped around him, making sure that when his cum shoots inside you, it’ll be as deep as it can get. Feeling close yourself, and wanting to cum with him, you bring your free hand to your clit, rubbing it in the quick circles you know feels best for you. Within seconds, you’re cumming around his cock, and the way you squeeze and clench around him is enough to send him straight into his, his cum shooting out in long spurts, filling you to the brim.

You’re both breathless, hearts racing and bodies hot, and after collecting his breath, Felix kisses you again, not messy or desperate as just moment priors, but full of love, truly the happiest he has ever been. He doesn’t pull out of you until he feels himself start to soften, and he mutters for you to wait there for a moment and stay still as he rushes to the attached bathroom for a tissue to clean you up.

You wince a little, a bit tender and sensitive from all the attention you received, but Felix is gentle and careful, as he is with everything when it comes to you. When he’s done, you make your way under the blankets, shifting over to your side of the bed, waiting for him to blow out the candles and settle in next to you. Should you both get dressed? Maybe, but neither of you particularly want to- there’s something special and intimate in staying just as you are now, bare in each other's arms.

He holds you close, as he always does, kissing the top of your head, and smiling when you look up at him from where your head lies against his chest. “I love you so much,” he tells you and you smile too, pecking him on the lips and hugging him tight. “I love you too,” you whisper as you close your eyes, exhaustion quickly settling over you. You never imagined how happy you would one day become the day you became Felix’s wife, and now you know that it was actually a blessing in disguise, something you didn’t know you needed.

From the moment he first saw you, Felix knew you were the one, instantly enamored with you. He hoped with all his heart his marriage was one he could be happy in, that his wife would be someone he could truly love, and you answered his prayers from the very moment you entered his life. He doesn’t want to say it was love at first sight, but somehow, he just knew- you were perfect, the one he was destined to be with and love with all his heart, his soulmate.

It sounds like a cliche he’d find in one of your romance novels, but it’s genuinely how he feels. No one in this world would ever compare to you, and he’d forever be grateful to his parents, your parents, and even God himself, for putting you on this earth at the same time as him, and allowing you to be his wife. He wishes he had words stronger than “I love you,” or that he knew how to articulate himself in a way that would explain the depths of how he feels, but he supposes those simple words will have to do. He loves you, and there has never been anything he's been more certain of than that.

#skz x reader #lee felix x reader #skz smut #lee felix smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz fluff #i literally stayed up all night to finish this and now its 7am I AM GOING TF TO BED #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

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lovebugism · 6 months

Note

hi angel! I have a little fictober request … can I pls get holding hands for the first time from the prompt list with steve harrington and shy!reader? maybe they’re in a busy place and steve doesn’t want to lose r so he grabs her hand, not realising how ridiculously flustered she gets <3333

ty for requesting angel :D this can be read as a part two to this fic!

summary: steve takes you to a mall in the city in a desperate attempt to spend time with you, fending off freaks, douchebags, and your anxious tendencies alike (shy!reader, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers cw for mentions of anxiety, 3.5k)

fictober leftovers (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Steve idles between the X-rated horror and thriller sections for several long minutes until he works up the courage to talk to you. You’re a pretty little thing behind the counter, hand in your palm as you scribble into the journal Keith threatened to confiscate from you earlier that morning.

He’s never been this nervous to talk to you. Things are different now. Post-first date, and Steve’s still toeing that wretched line between friends and something more. The puppy love is so painfully mutual, but it’s equally hard to navigate. He can’t come on too strong — not with someone as soft as you — but he’s still got some King Steve left in him. He’s still learning how to be gentle.

With sweaty hands, he walks up to the counter and tries to be subtle about the whole thing. Stealthy, like a ninja. He leans on his folded-up arms and blurts before he means to, “So you’re, like, totally coming tomorrow, right?”

You lift your chin and blink at him with wide eyes. You hadn’t heard him come over, too busy doodling a bunch of nothingness in your notebook. Your stomach whirls at the sight of him. It takes you a moment too long to answer.

“Coming… where?”

“To the mall,” he reminds, then corrects himself with a shrug. “The one in the city— not the shithole we have here.”

“Oh. Uh, I don’t— I don’t know,” you stammer. Steve invited you earlier that week, and you promised to think about it. You did. And you want so desperately to go, but your brain’s too mean, and it just won’t let you.

The disappointment that flashes on his face is fleeting, but you don’t miss it. The hurt softens his features in an unbearable way. It makes your chest ache.

“C’mon,” Steve presses in a gentle lilt. He leans closer to you, eyes twinkling and lips curling. “It could be fun, you know? I mean, everyone’s gonna be there.”

He’s trying his best to persuade you. He has no idea that that’s exactly what’s keeping you from going. Crowds are always stress-inducing, even those of the familiar kind.

“Everyone as in…?”

“Robin, obviously. Dustin, too,” Steve answers, counting on his fingers as he goes. “Max is coming, but Lucas has a basketball thing, so he can’t. And the rest of the little shits are in California, so that’s definitely a plus.”

It’s a dumb joke, but it makes you laugh anyway — a quiet giggle of a thing that makes him grin.

“Uh… Eddie’s coming, too, I think— but don’t let that dissuade you, alright? I promise I’ll protect you from that freak. You don’t have to worry about him.”

You smile because you know he’s joking. You’ve met Eddie a couple times now. He’s always been really sweet to you. Him and Steve just have a strange complex that forces them to be assholes to each other.

“And also, I’m gonna be there. Obviously. So…” he trails off with a wavering smile. So if you don’t wanna come for them, maybe you can come for me, is what he’s really trying to tell you.

“I don’t know,” you repeat, quieter now as you shrink into yourself. You try and fail to meet Steve’s honeyed gaze. “I just feel like I’ll make everything all weird.”

His bushy brows pinch, almost in offense that you’d think you’re anything less than totally perfect. “Why would you think that?”

“‘Cause… I don’t know,” you murmur in a quiet sigh. You don’t want to lie to him, but telling the truth feels so much harder. “They don’t really know me, you know? And I feel like… like I’ll just ruin everything if I’m there…”

It takes Steve a couple of seconds to answer you. He doesn’t know how you could say something that — like you don’t light up every room you’re in. “Well, that’s… that’s just not true,” he argues with a shrug. “They like you. They love you, actually— they just wanna get to know you. And the only way they’re gonna get to know you is if you come hang out every once in a while.”

Your heart flutters. You want to believe him. It’s hard for you to comprehend that anyone could care so much about your presence, so you just nod and don’t say anything further.

Steve is quick to comfort you, almost like he can read your mind. “But if you think it’s gonna be too much, you could always just stick with me. I’ll fend off the freaks for you, no problem.”

His cinnamon eyes glimmer with honey. He looks at you far too fondly to say no.

—————

There’s six of you crammed into Steve’s 733i. It’s already a tight fit, but it’s more suffocating when it’s full of a million different conversations. Almost all of them are pointed your way. Steve tries to bat everyone off of you, but it’s hard to yell at everyone and drive at the same time.

You’re being a pretty good sport about it despite how anxiously helpless you feel.

You wring your clammy hands in your lap and try to regulate your bated breaths, nodding to whatever Max is telling you. It’s hard to hear her because Eddie’s talking to you, too. You’re too scared he’ll think you’re mean if you stop him.

You watch Robin reach for the radio, complaining about all the yelling as she turns up the volume. The cheesy pop song is all you can hear. The conversations around you become a monotone buzzing. You feel like you could just about explode.

“Jesus, you guys are acting like you’ve never seen another person before,” Steve shouts over it all, the only definite thing you can understand. “Let her breathe before she thinks we’re all a bunch of lunatics, alright?”

He’s met with a bunch of muffled complaints, but the noise quietens nonetheless.

Steve glances at you in the rearview, a quick check to make sure you’re still okay. You catch him doing it and try your best to give him a smile. It looks more like a wince.

“Well, it’s your fault for finally bringing someone cool around,” Max argues with all her practiced teenaged ambiguity. “I have to spend all day surrounded by freaks— at least now there’s someone halfway normal to talk to.”

“I’m normal!” Steve insists, face twisted in offense.

“You’re a jock.”

“Hey. C’mon, Red,” Eddie scolds, so obviously playful. “Let’s not go throwing the j-word around—”

The brunette boy huffs. “Thank you!”

“—Jock would imply that Steve’s still cool,” the wild-haired boy continues. “Which he isn’t.”

Poorly hidden laughter fills the small car. Steve nods and mutters beneath it all, “Yeah. Okay. Thanks for the clarification, Munson.”

He glances at you again and finds you cracking a halfway sincere smile. He shoots you a light-hearted glare. “Don’t laugh! You’re just encouraging him!”

“Sorry,” you apologize, hiding your giggle behind your fist. “’M sorry.”

Steve smiles at you, silently tells you he doesn’t really mean it. He’d let Musnon make fun of him all day if he thought it meant he’d get to hear you laugh like that again.

—————

You take your first good breath in an hour when you step out of the car.

Steve shuts it off and gravitates towards you on instinct. His honey eyes are wide as they dart across your flustered features. You see his hands reach towards you, to grab your elbows maybe, but he decides against it.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, quicker than you mean to. “I’m good.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I really tried to—”

“I know,” you cut him off with a sweet, still quiet smile. “It’s still okay.”

He sighs heavy, like a deep breath of relief. “Okay. Good,” he hums, almost to himself, nodding with a pink grin you could stare at all day. He would’ve let you, but neither of you get the chance.

Your friends start messing around, and the chaos melts into the buzzing crowd surrounding you, and you realize the two of you aren’t the only people on earth. Bummer.

You gather around the large map at the entrance of the bustling mall. “Where should we go first?” Dustin chirps from the front of the crowd. His eyes are as wide as his smile. “Game Player? Sam Goody? Oh, look— they have a RadioShack! I’ve been looking for a new supercomm. It’s on the other side of the building, though, but we can just work our way around, I guess—”

“Jesus, Dusty-Bun,” Robin interjects with a gritty laugh. She stands on the outside of the group, arms crossed over her chest, effortlessly too cool for it all. “Take a breath, buddy.”

“Don’t call me that!” the boy gripes over his right shoulder.

Steve shrugs. “Go wherever you want to. I don’t care.”

Dustin looks to his left, shooting the older boy a glare. “Aren’t you supposed to be the babysitter?”

“You’re fourteen!”

“Well, what if I get kidnapped?”

“No one’s kidnapping you, alright? Trust me,” Steve jokes, only smiling when he sees you trying to hide yours. He puts his hands on his waist and cocks his hip to the side. “They’ll send you right back where you came from. You have nothing to worry about.”

Dustin squints. “Rude.”

“We’ll just meet back at the food court in, like, two hours. And if you don’t get yourself killed, you’ll be fine,” Steve reasons with a nonchalant shrug and a jutted-out lip.

“Oh. Wow. Thanks, Steve. What would I ever do without you?”

He rolls his cinnamon eyes at the boy’s monotone. “Alright, smartass.”

When the rest of the group dissipates, he leans over to nudge your shoulder. It knocks you from your stupor — so deep in your own head you were practically drowning. You blink at him with wide, glassy eyes. “Hm?”

“Do you wanna go anywhere?” he asks with a wavering smile. His laugh is equally forced. “You’re kinda staring a hole into the map there…”

“Oh. No. I was just…” you trail off with a shake of your head. You’re not entirely sure what to tell him, how to make him understand your easily overstimulated mind. “I was just distracted. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. No big deal.”

“Where did everyone else go?” you wonder with a furrow to your brow, noticing the lack of familiar chaos around you.

“Eddie and Dustin went to some movie store, and I think Robin and Max are on the hunt for cassettes.”

“Okay...” you nod with a tremble in your voice.

You’re still not totally used to being alone with Steve. Your friends are usually good distractions. They fill your awkward silences with something funnier and talk loud when you get too quiet. When they’re not around it’s just… awkward silences and quiet air.

You get too in your own head, so eager to impress the pretty boy beside you, that you end up putting your foot in your mouth.

Steve doesn’t seem nearly as apprehensive. Instead, he’s beaming at the fact that he’s finally got you alone. He doesn’t have to worry about quieting Dustin when he gets too loud or shoving Eddie away when he forgets what personal space is. It’s quieter with just the two of you — warmer, cozier, easier.

“Wanna go down to the food court?” he wonders, honey eyes sparkling when he looks your way. “I know you haven’t eaten anything yet, so…”

Your eyes narrow, accusing and playful. “How would you know that?”

“Uh, ‘cause I know you,” the boy scoffs like it’s obvious. “I basically have to force you to eat every morning.”

“That’s not true!”

“It so is!” Steve giggles and it’s heaven to your ears, the exact sound of honey. “That’s why I hate not opening with you. ‘Cause if I’m not around to force you to eat the other half of my Poptart, I’m just, like, worrying if you’re withering away or not.”

Your face burns hot. Your heart swells with a similar warmth that borders on painful. You didn’t think he cared so much about you — or that he ever thought about you outside of work or the occasional hangout.

“Fine,” you concede with your arms crossed over your chest, trying not to seem as flustered as you feel. “Let’s go to the food court.”

Steve grins. He follows you in stride when you start to head that way. “Cool. We can go get one of those disgustingly good burgers or something.”

“For breakfast?” you wonder with a light-hearted laugh.

“Yeah! Like, one of those crazy huge ones, you know? The patties are, like, the size of your fist— make a fist.”

You do. You ball your fingers and hold them up between you. Steve holds onto your wrist for further inspection, fingers long and warm and soft. You swallow.

“Bigger than your fist,” he corrects with a laugh. The sweet sound is drowned out by the swell of yelling teenagers. They talk so loudly and over one another that their conversations become a meaningless drones.

Two in particular shove at one another, laughing loud like it’s fun. One of them almost barrels into you — long blonde hair, tight shirt, tighter jeans, and cologne so potent it stings your nose. He just narrowly misses you, mostly because Steve’s there to yank you out of the way.

The boy’s gentle grip on you tightens. He pulls you close until you’re stumbling into his side. With a strong arm wrapped around you, he shouts at the roughhousing teens — “Watch where you’re going, assholes!”

The scrawny boys walk on ahead of you. They seem apologetic, halfway scared at first. When they realize Steve’s not rushing to beat their asses, they chuckle about the whole thing and keep punching each other.

You’re still frozen in shock — not so much of fear anymore, but of how tightly Steve’s holding onto you. It’s an embrace of the firmer kind, a touch so solid you feel immediately safer inside it. You don’t think you’ve ever been this close before. The teenage girl in your heart starts to spin.

“You okay?” Steve asks when the anger ebbs.

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing tightly and forcing an awkward laugh. “You don’t have to keep asking me that, you know?”

He nods rapidly, then notices how close he’s holding you. Fearful that he’s made you uncomfortable, he uncurls his arm from around you and takes a small step back. “No, I know! I just wanna— I just wanna make sure, you know? ‘Cause I know you don’t like… all this.”

He waves his hands vaguely out beside him.

You’re immediately cold without him holding you. You wrap your arms around yourself to compensate for the lack of him.

“Yeah, but… It’s not the rest of the world’s fault that I’m scared of everything,” you say with another forced laugh, shifting your weight on your feet. If you could melt into your oversized sweater, you would. “It’s mine. So I can deal with it. I have to deal with it.”

Steve nods, slower this time and with a silent sense of understanding. He steps closer to you and shrugs. “I think the least I can do is make it a little easier on you… And I feel like I’ve been doing the exact opposite of that all day.”

“That’s not true,” you argue with the shake of your head.

His chocolate eyes widen. You’re rarely so assertive. “No?”

“No,” you answer, softer this time as you grow sheepish all over again. Your unsure gaze darts from your dirty sneakers to his twinkling eyes until it makes you dizzy. “You’re actually making it more bearable for me, so…”

“Oh. Okay. Good,” he nods with a smile, breathless because his chest is swelling with pride. He knows the world can be a little much for someone as soft as you. It’s good to know that he’s the exception to all that.

He gets lost in the way you look at him for a moment too long. He clears his throat and stammers, “Uh, do you still wanna go get food?” he asks, pointing off beside him. “We can find somewhere quiet to eat so we don’t have to deal with teenage douchebags the entire time.”

Your heart lurches into your throat. It’s practically your love language — spending time alone in a quiet space, with no overt need for conversation or people to fill the void.

You nod, trying and failing to hide the beam on your face. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

—————

The quiet place in question is a photo booth on the halfway vacant, furthest end of the mall. Closed curtains, small spaces, and entwined breaths. It smells like his deep cologne, your perfume, and a freshly cooked meal. It’s too easy to forget that there’s a whole world outside of here.

You sit twisted on the bench, facing Steve with your burger trays in front of you. You pluck salty fries from the plate with a trembling hand, distantly fearful that you’re not supposed to be eating here. You think being so close to Steve is worth the risk.

“Is this the day you were expecting to have?” Steve asks with a lopsided grin. He takes a big bite of his burger right after and gets mustard on the corner of his mouth.

“No,” you answer, giggling as he swipes the stain away with his tongue. “But not because it’s bad.”

“Hm?” he hums to egg you on. He’s got too much of a mouthful for anything else.

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head, equally nonverbal as you chew on a handful of fry crumbs. You swipe your palms together to dispel the grains of salt. “I’m having more fun than I thought I would, actually.”

Steve scoffs in disbelief. “Spending time with me? Alone in a photo booth? That’s a good time to you?”

His tone makes you self-conscious. You feel a little shameful, like a child, because you don’t need much to be entertained. You get all warm with embarrassment, too. Being alone with Steve has always felt like climbing mountains — something short of an adrenaline rush that makes you think you could conquer the world. Maybe you’re too small in comparison to do the same for him.

“Yeah,” you shrug in an inaudible murmur. “I don’t know— I just… I like spending time with you, you know? I don’t really care what we’re doing.”

Steve’s chest swells. From a girl who too often keeps to herself, inherently nervous and incessantly frightened of being a burden, it’s more of a proclamation of love than he ever thought he’d get from you.

“Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he confesses with a crooked pink grin, internally praying his cheeks aren’t as red hot as they feel.

He holds his half-eaten burger out towards you. You knock yours with his, clinking them together like champagne glasses. He takes another too big bite. You go to do the same but get a whiff of the sleeve of your sweater before you can.

“God, I smell like a teenage boy,” you groan, only half-playful. The nose-burning musk from the kid from before has seemingly stuck itself onto you. Like fruit and sage and wood and vanilla, every scent ever made combined.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything, but you definitely smell like bodyspray,” Steve affirms, scruffy cheeks jutted out from the burger in his mouth.

“I think I’ve been tainted,” you giggle, a quieter sound compared to his boyish laughter. “Thanks for saving me, by the way.”

You’re saying it to be nice, but you watch him get all shy about it when you take a bite of your sandwich. He shifts on the bench, like he suddenly can’t get comfortable. When he rubs his palms on his thighs, you can’t tell if it’s because of the salty fries or because they’re clammy.

“Yeah— I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to grab you like that,” he stammers with an apologetic twinkle in his eye and a gaze that can’t quite meet yours. “Just so you know. I was just trying to—”

“Save me?” you interject.

Steve smiles when he sees how softly you’re looking at him. He shrugs. “Well, I was gonna say ‘pull you from the line of fire,’ but sure.”

“It’s okay,” you repeat for perhaps the thousandth time that day. “I didn’t mind. It felt nice, actually— you have really warm hands.”

“That’s ‘cause yours are always ice cold.”

“Well, maybe that’s because you’re not holding them,” you blurt before you mean to.

You freeze mid-bite, eyes wide in distant horror as your blood runs cold. In a desperate attempt to break away from the awkwardness you caused, you muster a trembling smile. “I’m kidding,” you murmur, halfway hidden behind your burger.

You weren’t.

Steve knows this, too, so he smiles.

He’d been thinking about it all day, in truth — how he was gonna get to hold your hand without having to stick his foot in his mouth to ask you. Turns out, a series of unfortunate events and an impromptu date in a photo booth was all it took. And he’s grateful. For all of it.

“No, you weren’t,” he teases, fingers as warm as his smile when he wraps them around yours. He holds gently onto your hand — even though it makes eating a little harder, even though your fingers are cold, even though you tremble.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: fictober!

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the-one-who-lambs · 8 months

Note

uhh hello!! sorry if this is a tall order LOL but I wanna ask, do you have any narilamb fanfic recs? :D I already read yours and I really like bamsara’s and I’m waiting for epicaandk’s to update (that one is my fav ever <3) but idk what to read now lol

Tall order?? Naaaaah, I'm always happy to give recs. Oh boy, I'm gonna go in reverse chronological order.

If you've read all of my narilamb fics (have you seriously? I'm impressed, that's probably well over half the 150k+ I've written for this damn fandom. Also, to anyone seeing this from a reblog, my stuff is over at onethirdofimpossible!) then here we go!

You already mentioned it, but The Rehabilitation of Death is excellent so far! This one is by @bamsara who is new to the CotL fandom but apparently not new to fanfic writing; they have a really popular FNAF fic and I assume the well-deserved attention this fic's been getting is a byproduct of the popularity they've already gotten in other fandoms. :D Welcome, bamsara! Many of the fic writers in this fandom are friends with each other already, but we don't bite if you wanna say hi.

Feel No Evil and Language Barrier, both by @payasita. I always love how payasita portrays this duo (in both digital art and writing), with so much sass and repressed loneliness, knowing they're stuck together for eternity and making the best of it. (And maybe falling in love, depending on how dense Narinder keeps being.) What makes these come alive for me is how well thought out the setting is outside the Lamb and Narinder. The descriptions and weight of emotions really pop here.

LITERALLY ANYTHING written by pavi / @i-eat-deodorant. Depending on how spicy you want your fics to be he has even more here. Character analysis, diction, pacing, etc. are consistently 10/10. Top-quality banter between a sassy Lamb and tired old man Narinder. We constantly bounce ideas off each other and inspire each other a lot but I promise I'm not hyping him up just because he's my friend oh my god please just go bless your eyes.

It Was For You, O Death by blueberry-muffin-massacre (if they have a tumblr, let me know so I can tag!). An intriguing alternative ending to the final battle wherein the Lamb chooses a secret third option by refusing to give up the Red Crown and still observing Narinder as the God of Death. So many details are so well thought out and duality their relationship is nicely characterized-- both genuine care for each other and also quite unhealthy. A fine line treaded well!

Confessional by jusmove (again, lmk if they have a tumblr). Been a while since I've read it, but I love how the Lamb chips at Narinder's very carefully built emotional walls. Their personalities are very well fleshed out here, especially Narinder's cognitive dissonance at being able to process love.

Confession by @thewitchoftheweed. I didn't expect a part two to this one, but my god I was so thrilled when it did update. Narinder and Lamb with their unique and parallel loneliness and their fucked-up sense of everything. Their relationship is very rocky here, and I love how they navigate it: with tension and eventual, pained acceptance. Mind the rating.

Of Character Development and Being Dense by @calliecature. A short and sweet narilamb classic. They're both mutually pining and one of them is too emotionally repressed to realize it. Guess who.

Not An Offering, But a Gift by @checkplzjuliet. Small confession fic. I especially love how Narinder's descriptions twist the knife of his situation here, and how Lambert is a total foil for him! There are a lot of good things happening in such a short span, which is impressive.

Also, if you think you've read all my narilamb fics... I do have a secret one out there too. Just so you know.

Happy reading!

I'm already friends with many of the people here, but if any of the writers I've tagged have been kinda wanting to reach out for a while but feel a little anxious... Don't be. I've made my best friends in this fandom by literally just waiting for some of my readers to get over whatever assumption they have that I'm cool and say hi. Or being the more confident one first.

#hannah's rambles #cult of the lamb #narilamb #cotl #fanfic #fic rec

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whiskeyskin · 29 days

Text

Goddesses and Mortals

Premise: After the events of Love and Longing, Gale finds out that his feelings are reciprocated.. and that's not all.. 😳🍑🫵

Accidental sequel to a previous fic cause I can't get this lonely Wizard out of my head without the promise of a potentially happy ending 🥹 in more ways than one 😏🍆

Gale x gn!tav • 18+ • E/M rating • MDNI

Gale POV, reader referred to as 'you', no specific mention of gentials or gender, porn with plot?, Mystra can fuck right off, fantasies becoming reality, longing, love, tenderness, mutual masturbation, anal fingering (M receiving), unabashed consent, mild cum swapping, minor sub/dom energy, marking if you squint

5.3k words

Special thanks to @senualothbrok for nestling this tadpole in my brain for Gale to get the real deal one day.. 💜

And at it again @spellbooking with another beautiful gif of our Rizzard ☺️ Thank you! 💜

Gale was close, very close.

He had to hurry, the party would all be rising from camp soon. Though there was no sunlight in this desolate place, a full rest was almost upon him.

Safely secluded in the abandoned house on the far reaches of camp; sweat damp on his brow, his hand slick with salvia, Gale feverishly pumped his length in quick bursts.

Your illusion image looked up at him through lidded eyes licking your bottom lip hungrily and growling a hedonistic moan.

"Gale.." you whimpered, the voice distorted.

"Yes, love.. I'm going to come for you.. only for you.. come with me." He bit out, on the precipice of orgasm.

Suddenly, a faint lilting of rosewater assailed his nose and stopped him dead.

A cold dread filled his body, incapacitating his lungs.

Mystra.

It couldn't be.

Surely not.

Not here.

Not now.

Why right now for hell's sake?

He'd not felt her presence since she'd tried to wedge herself between you both when you'd shared a moment of magic in camp.

Despite their separation, she still checked in on her disgraced former chosen and lover at the most inopportune moments.

Fumbling, he quickly tucked himself away in his waistband and spun on his heel.

Nothing.. but the scent remained.

Had she finally gotten sick of his abusing himself constantly to the fictitious likeness of you, using her magical essence to do so?

Had she been sensing him masturbating at least twice a day since her intervention charm through Elminster?

Was she making herself known to quell his incessant self-gratification, or to participate in it?

Even a tenday ago, that would have been a comforting thought. One he would have relished in, taken solace and pride in.. but this felt wrong.

His sweet nothings he had whispered in the dead of night to "you" weren't for Mystra's perverse enjoyment, or sick amusement, weren't for her for to cast judgement on.

"I don't know why you're here," he called brazenly, "but I assure you, this is nothing that concerns you any longer. Now, if you'd be so kind, leave me in peace." He requested, firmly.

Silence.

He wasn't convinced.

"And I don't appreciate the timing of you little assertion here. Now that I'm finally on a path of some kind of healing, you make yourself known?" He snapped, pointing a finger at nothing.

"You have no reason to be here. You have already spoken your will and want with my life and until such a time that that moment arrives, I will do what I want, with whomever I want. Be they real, or fantasy is no concern of yours. Now, leave." He frowned and gestured finally.

The warmth in the air he didn't realise had been present disparated. He was left cold.

Just like always with her.

"Gale?" Called your voice, your vision now by the doorway.

He looked up to see you leaning on the doorframe, slightly bleary.

"Sorry, my love. I got distracted. Less said about that, the better. Now," he beckoned a crooked finger towards himself, "let's get back to where we were before everyone wakes up."

You frowned and looked him up and down, "Did you just call me, 'my love'?" You asked.

For the second time that early morning, Gale's blood ran cold.

"And what exactly were we doing before?" You irked a brow, looking amused.

Gale struggled for words as the blood that had been swiftly journeying to the south was urgently redirected north.

"I-uh-I did? Must've been a mistake. What are you doing up so early?" He asked, trying to change the subject.

You squinted, "Who were you talking to?"

"No one." Gale answered, feigning innocence.

"Wow, that was convincing." You teased with mockingly wide eyes. You narrowed your eyes at him and he felt a gentle brush against his mind. You were seeking permission. He allowed it.

"Mystra?" You asked with a tense lilt. Gale nodded.

"Thought so, I heard you calling that you were trying to move on and someone was suddenly trying to get your attention again. Is everything alright?" You asked, your tone worried and sincere.

Gale's heart bloomed.

"Yes, since her missive from Elminster, she's reached out. I don't have time for it."

"That's a massive step for you, Gale. You said something about moving on, is that true?"

"Somewhat." He answered in a half truth.

You smiled, "Is she still here?" There was a pause, Gale could see the cogs turning, "Did you want to make her jealous? Is that why you called me 'my love'?"

Gale blinked twice.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, maybe you snuck up here to be with me. Maybe I'm the one you're moving on with."

Again, Gale blinked twice.

How unintentionally right you were.

He swallowed.

"Would that be something you're interested in helping me with?"

"To fuck with the gods? Anything." You purred the last word down the connection at him and it made the hairs on his neck raise like you'd whispered it directly against his skin.

"Then by all means, take the lead."

You irked a seductive brow and turned down your head to gaze through lidded eyes.

He swallowed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to stare. You're just so gods damned handsome. I'm glad we could sneak away again." You walked towards him confidently, a slight prowl in your gait.

Gale's blood supply had ignored previous instruction and fully marched back south. The sight of you - truly you - saying these things to him had him dizzy from the rush of blood.

"Not to worry, I quite enjoying being gawped at."

"Well, it's certainly no hardship." You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him in for a sensual hug, while he desperately tried to keep his erection from your notice.

"Mm, we have to be quick. We don't have much time until the others wake up." You crooned, wrapping your arms around his neck, "Did the minor illusion keep you warm enough while I was gone?"

And for the third time that morning, Gale's body shot full of ice.

His blood entirely confused, threw it's hands up in defeat for direction.

You knew?

How could you know?

He was careful.. wasn't he?

Your hands never stopped roaming; his arms, his shoulders, his neck.. his hair.. oh gods, up into his hair.

Gale's breath hitched and shuddered.

Oh gods, you felt like heaven. Even if he felt like he was in hell.

"I know you like me to watch you but I've been so neglectful lately with everything that's been going on. Can you forgive me?" You pulled back from him, your face pulled into a beautifully twisted smile, sin pulled at the edges.

"I th-think you can make it up to me." He gasped.

Your eyebrows flexed in amusement up your forehead, "Do you want me to watch you right now? With everyone waiting in camp, drinking tea and preparing breakfast?"

You smoothed your hands from his shoulders to the top of his chest, "Do you like the anticipation of being caught, Gale? The rush of being found?"

Oh gods, you were so close. You smelled so good, like lemongrass and lavender.. and underneath the balms, your musk, your scent. You.

"I would do anything, as long as it was with you, my love." He breathed, unable to contain the emotion in his voice.

Your eyes unfocused for a brief moment, then came back, blinking as though seeing through an unfogged mirror.

A soft gasp caught in the back of your throat; that noise could state him for a thousand nights.

Then you stepped away.

You averted your gaze, and backed away from his arms completely. You shut your eyes tightly.

"Gale, I-"

You opened them, a wealth of feelings swirling but he couldn't decipher any of them.

"I need to get back to camp. We need to get to Moonrise Towers today, with Isobel's blessing we can cross the Shadows. We need to be ready." You nodded curtly and disappeared.

Gale stared after you, the cold air of the Shadowlands around him a cruel but poetic pathetic fallacy.

He groaned and closed his eyes against balled fists, as he pressed them against his eyes. Tears brimmed behind them, hot frustrated tears.

"Gods fucking dammit."

***

Gale had attempted to maintain distance today, which had been difficult considering you'd partied up together with Karlach and Shadowheart.

Karlach had tried to question his glum mood, but he'd simply recused it as nerves of their close proximity to the potential Heart of the Absolute.

"Ah, Gale. If there's anyone who knows how shit it is to have a ticking time bomb in their chest, it's me. Come and speak to me sometime mate, yeah? We can talk about it."

"Karlach, you're truly a soul that steels my own. I may just take you up on that."

A firm nod and a beaming smile from Karlach ended the conversation as they entered this Balthazar's chamber, after which none of them really had the stomach for food that night.

Wyll had stepped up and made a hearty bowl of vegetable and meat stew. It was nothing on his own cooking, of course but it was a valiant attempt.

Needed a little more pepper.

You sat nursing your bowl, generally making conversation around the fire. Halsin had joined you back from Last Light with no new news of the catatonic lost soul, apart from that he kept singing. A lute of significance to him had been added to your list of items to retrieve; an ever growing list.

Gale swallowed a mouthful and risked a glance towards you, your eyes met for a brief moment before you looked away, uncomfortable. His heart sank.

He'd truly ruined any chance of friendship after his desperate behaviour this morning. You'd barely spoken two words together all day, and now you wouldn't look him in the eye.

He excused himself for an early night and retreated to his tent. He lit his candles and pulled out one of the many books he'd picked up along today's excursions around Moonrise, hoping that one of them would point them towards the heart.

***

The noise around the campfire grew weary as he poured over his readings. Various 'goodnights' alerted him to the potentially late hour.

Gale sighed and rubbed his eyes, he conjured a bookmark, closed it and drained his glass of wine.

Now that he'd been pulled from his focus, he realised how tired he was. Physically drained from a gruelling day of emotional turbulence.

Rosewater gently lilted under his nose, he snorted it back out.

"Oh for the love of-! Bugger off!" He spat through a whisper.

"I'm sorry." Came your voice from behind him.

He spun around on his knees to see you hastily trying to leave his tent.

"No!" Called a little too loudly, reaching out across the space, "Not you. I didn't mean you."

You stopped, looking back at him for the first time since the morning. The soft glow of the candles illuminating your wonderful face, his heart squeezed uncomfortably.

"I assume she's back again, then?" You asked through terse lips, glancing around the low lit interior of his tent.

"Where rosewater is, Mystra's sure to follow. What can I do for you?" Gale asked, shaking off the lingering of his former lover.

"I-," you started, wringing your hands, "I wanted to apologise for this morning."

Gale blinked.

You wanted to apologise?

"What for?" He questioned his tone incredulous.

"For it all. I embarrassed you, I embarrassed myself.. I acted poorly. I thought it would be a good way to show that I knew what you'd been doing-with the minor illusions." Gale's eyes widened. He'd been attempting to solve that one today.

"H-How did you find out?"

"I'd cast Detect Thoughts on Jaheria when we met her at the Inn, and it lasts all day. I heard you when I was laying down to rest. All the things you wanted to do." You swallowed thickly, and a jolt of excitement shot it's way through his cock to his brain.

That was two nights ago.

He'd fantasized about gourging on your sex as you mounted his face, fucking yourself with his mouth as you leaned back with one hand to stroke him. He'd made a mess of his walls, as well as himself.

"You've got a pretty interesting imagination, Gale. Especially since we seem to be ethereal galaxy people in your head." You smiled, folding your arms across yourself, "The one from last night was pretty hot too." You bit your bottom lip to contain more, and swallowed.

He remembered that vividly.

He'd fantasised about spooning you, fucking into you and playing with you from behind. The mirror image had gasped and moaned for him, breathed his name over and over again, as he came to the thought of pleasing you enough to milk his cum inside your clenching walls.

"I thought it was just sex, that maybe we could get rid of some nervous energy together but then this morning.. the way you-you looked at me.." you trailed off, Gale's heart hammered against his chest.

You rest your splayed hands across your heart, "I was foolish. You're not the kind to just sleep around. To have casual sex and not think of it again."

"Like Astarion?" He quipped before vetting the venomous comment.

You tightened your lip, "Kind of." You answered, with a tone that felt loaded with more secretive information but he didn't want to pry.

Well, he did.

But not right now.

"I could be." He postured, looking up at you.

You let out a short laugh, "That face this morning is not the face of someone who can just have sex and not want more."

He hardened his face, "It could be.. if you wanted to be.." Gale irked a brow, feigning a casual air.

"Oh, yeah?" You goaded, leaning on one hip and folding your arms again.

"Absolutely. We could have sex right now and I wouldn't bat an eyelid." He lied, pushing his lips down into a grimace, while his cheeks flushed and his heart pounded against his sternum.

"Really?" You questioned, looking dubious.

"Unquestionably." Gale punctuated with a flick of his fingers, relaxing into his position on the floor, widening his knees to sit back on his heels in an attempt at nonchalance.

"So, you fantasising about kissing my neck, my chest, stomach and hips and calling me "my love" means nothing." You stated, using air quotations.

"Certainly not. Mere sweet talk." Gale shook his head, shrugging his shoulders, while sweat gathered on his forehead.

You kicked off your hip and confidently strolled towards the short distance to him. His mouth instantly dried to dangerous levels of dehydration, as he tried to keep composure.

"And imagining your cock in my mouth, telling me how much you adore me, that isn't telling at all?" You sneered a lip through a smirk and shrugged one shoulder.

"Demonstrably." He tried to remain calm but every cell in his body was panicking, "Do you see me reacting?" He willed himself through words not to show a care.

Your tongue broke through your smirk to rub against your top teeth and his felt it between his legs, he jerked unconsciously.

"You're glowing." You drawled, dipping your eyes to his chest, "Do you even realise the orb lights up when you're horny?"

Gale's painfully stony face dropped as he quickly darted his vision to his chest.

You were indeed correct.

Through his camp clothes, a faint purple hue eminated through the fabric. Gale shot his had to cover his blatant display of arousal. He gave a sharp exhale through his nose and closed his eyes in utter embarrassment.

"This tent has been a purple colour show since Crèche Y'llek." You teased, the sound of your voice curved around a grin.

Gale's chest hollowed.

Gods dammit.

Mystra dammit.

"Oh and also this.." Suddenly he felt something graze along the length of his concealed erection - what he thought was a his concealed erection.

He let out a whining gasp, his hand slapping against worn leather, and he opened his eyes.

You'd rubbed the top of your boot under and against him in his kneeled position, gliding his sensitive member with the leather of your shoe. You continued the rhythm, the gentle friction was delicious, he gasped open mouthed.

Oh gods, it was real.

You were real.

It wasn't a cruel trick, or a fantasy.

It was you.

Gale reached up to grasp the crook of your knee, you held your gaze steadfast against his own. He began to pull off your boot, your eyes never faultered from his as it was flung to the back of the tent.

Your foot resting on his thigh, his hand still holding the meat of your strong calf.

You took his prickly chin within your fingers, eyes usure.

"If this going to happen, it's just sex. Nothing more." You stated, in a low tone.

Gale nodded, trembling from anticipation.

"I mean it. If you're on a path to self-destruction in the name of a Goddess, I'm not wasting my time with feelings." Your voice caught and anger flashed across your features but tears hinted in your eyes.

You slid your foot off his thigh and slowly descended to crouch in front of him, taking his face fully in your hands. Their warmth slid into the deepest recesses of his lonely soul.

"I care about you, Gale. You're worth far more than what she's asked you to do. Far more."

He poured over your face, so close to him. Emotions that he had denied himself bubbling to the surface; the longing, the loneliness.. the fear.

You ran a thumb to dry a tear he hadn't realise had fallen.

"Say something." You whispered, your gaze flitting between his eyes and his lips.

Oh gods.

This was to truly happen?

He'd kiss your beautiful, soft lips?

His breathing was unsteady, the anticipation coiled dangerously around every facet of his musculature.

Gale opened his mouth to speak, to utter sweet poetry regaling your beauty, your passion, your wit and wisdom but the words would not form, they were stunted on his paralysed tongue.

You were so close.

He could feel the heat from your body, he could see the wisps of your hair moving with his unsteady breath.

You came closer and pressed your lips between his brows, electric tingling his skin in your wake. His eyes lolled shut as he finally brought his hands to hold you to him, press you to him, to feel you finally.

He slid his hands below the seam of your shirt, to feel your smooth and scarred skin, fire grazing his fingertips at the contact.

"I-.. I care for you deeply. I cannot deny this." He began breathlesly, your forehead's connected, your bodies melting together. You sank further into the embrace, widening your legs to fully welcome him between your thighs.

The image of that first night he touched himself to thoughts of you, bloomed across his mind and he bit his lip.

"Neither can I." You agreed, the sound of your voice low and raspy, "It scares me, Gale. It scares the shit into me," you leaned back, holding on to the back of his neck, slowly leading you both down to the carpeted rugs below his bedroll, "Show me. Show me I'm not wrong to feel this way. Show me I'm not alone in this."

Gale shook in head, almost trance-like, "You're not alone-not alone.. I'm with you." He followed you down, desperate not to lose a second's touch with you.

"And I'm with you, I'm not letting you go." You spoke the words against his mouth, it made his mind numb.

"No, never. Never leave me." He mumbled, as you both situated yourselves on the floor. Words bubbled and frothed out of his mouth before he could stop them, "I've been so utterly alone for so long, cut off from everyone I knew and cared for.. and I'm terrified, I'm filled with dread each day. I don't want to die-I want to stay.. stay here." He mewled through the overwhelming emotion in his throat. You increased the intensity of your touch against your brows.

"Shh, none of that matters now. It doesn't exist. For now.. it's just us.. you and me.." you whispered against his skin, he felt it shiver down every vertebrae.

"You and me." He repeated, comforted by the softness in your voice.

Suddenly, your hand grasped his naked cock. He yelped in pleasure, but was hushed by the passionate meeting of your mouth. You captured his cries, claiming them as your own.

His fingers bunched your shirt, his knuckles white, as your tongue swept in to merge with his.

Oh gods.

You tasted like wine, and oranges, and sex.

He'd imagined your taste, your scent.. but this.. the full force of you was so much more intense that he could have expected.

You fingered his leaking slit and he jerked at the sensation, causing you both to make involuntary, open-mouthed moans.

You increased in fervour at his reaction, a desperate whine eeking from his body.

It was too much but not enough. He wanted more, more of you, more of this. He wanted the world to fall away and to be consumed by only you.

Like you said; "Just you and me."

Even though it would be grammatically correct to say 'You and I'.

Your hand wrapped around the length of him, pumping the head of his penis in short, lanquid bursts.. and suddenly the correctness on ones grammar seemed worlds away.

Gale shuddered and knelt over your body, settling himself between your gorgeous thighs, pressing down against your sex, enough to make you gasp.

You shared a wicked grin together before he cradled you to him, desperately kissing and mating your tongues. His hips unconsciously twitching against the friction of your hand.

"Gods, Gale. I want you." You keened against his lips, puffs of air escaping aggressively from your lungs, as his hips drove against you.

"Yesyesyesyesyes.." he chorused, messily thrusting against your palm, "Want this. Want you. For a long while.. even before.."

"Did you fantasize about all the positions we could fuck in?"

A sharp feeling settled low in his gut and he squeezed his eyes shut to close out a threatening, pre-emptive climax.

"Yes, wanted you.. badly." He added, barely able to speak.

"I know, I saw. Sweating and willing underneath you?"

"Yess.." he hissed.

"Slipping a finger inside me, then another, preparing me to take you?"

Another deliciously painful pang shuddered inside him.

"Stretching my tight hole for you, till I'm begging you to fuck me hard and unrelenting?" You growled against his lips.

Gale tensed his jaw to mute a groan from his chest, as your words gripped the back of his head.

Oh dear fucking gods.

You were very, very good at this.

"I especially liked where I got to play with you. Those moans at the back of your throat when you'd think of me on top, or taking charge.. I had trouble concentrating yesterday because I couldn't stop replaying those sounds."

He heard you whisper an incantation, that his lust-filled brain slowly realised was Mage hand, the moment before he felt the cold sensation working his undergarments completely free, pushing them down passed his knees.

"There was one particular part you seemed to be interested in exploring together." You purred against his temple, as you twisted your grip around his plump, weeping member.

The Mage hand palmed at the cleft of his ass and lazily dragged it's fingers up his perennium, sliding towards his..

He gasped, throwing his head back and loosening his tight hips to tilt them upwards in wanton display.

"Oh gods." Gale whimpered, biting down on his lip hard, "Mm-Mhm." He panted in abandon.

He'd experimented with himself in this matter in his youth and in his newfound sexual freedom after his year of self imposed celibacy but never with another.

The magical fingers languidly drawled across his sensitive skin. He bucked and jerked against the feeling of you pleasuring him, needing more of both.

You groaned and rutted your hips against him.

"You look so beautiful like this, I can see you in the mirror behind you. You look spectacular, spreading yourself for me." You crooned, praising him and licking your bottom lip. You looked beyond him to what he assumed was his mirror.

Oh gods.

You were going to watch him like this.

Like he'd imagined.

Exposed.

Hedonistic.

Depraved.

The thought waved over his brain and made him dizzy, the desire swelled low in his belly.

"You're so willing and receptive, Gale. Do you want me to slide these fingers inside you? To pleasure you completely until you can't comprehend your own name?" You asked salaciously, assuring consent before blindly continuing. He raised his hips higher for better access as wordless agreement.

The mage hand ran a soaked finger across his puckering hole but ventured no further without express permission.

His whole body trembled, desire coarsing through his veins, soaking into every orifice.

"Yes.. yes.. fuck. I need it. Please.. please.." he wailed through staggered breath.

"Look at me." You instructed softly, halting your motions of abject pleasure.

With great difficulty, Gale did as he was told. He about exploded with joy with the sight of you.

He'd imagined you, summoned your likeness but nothing could ever compare to this.

The aura of his orb bathed you in a magical amethyst glow; the adoration shining in your eyes, the seductive curve of your lip, the sweat flattening your hair to your temples.

"So handsome.. so beautiful. Look at you, look at how you light up for me.." you smiled, guilding him with compliments as you raise a hand to touch the angry purple mark on his chest, now emblazoned with Mystra's star. "This does not define you. You are not the orb. You are not Mystra's chosen. You are Gale and you chose your own path. You are, and will always be, enough.. just as you are.."

Soft tears fell from his eyes from the intensity of his emotional response to your words and the physical stimuli of the hand gently testing his entrance.

You gently kissed the apples of his wet cheeks, then looked up at him with a darkened expression.

"Arch your back for me, sweetheart."

Gale instantly buried his face against your neck, lifting his exposed self for you.

"Good.." you cooed, beginning a slow pace to pump his cock again.

"Ohh, gods." His whined against your skin, his limit already close.

"Relax.." you whispered, kissing his temple, "Relax for me, darling. Take a deep breath, and let it out. Keep breathing."

Gale did as he was told. With each expell of air he loosened the muscles surrounding his asshole. The need growing to dizzying heights.

Pressure pushed against his rim as the finger glided halfway, he gasped and clenched unconsciously.

"Breathe, Gale." You soothed, pressing soft kisses to his face, "You're handling this so well."

Further and further you pushed inside him, delicious sensation flooding his body. His body tense and limp simultaneously, as the pleasure radiated through him from his pulsating walls.

"Fuck." He barely managed.

He kissed your neck and sucked down on the bite marks left by Astarion. He would make his own mark on you. One that everyone would see.

You gasped, your breath catching as you rolled your hips against him, teeth lightly nipping at his ear lobe.

Gale felt the friction of your other hand reaching down between you to stimulate your own release. His urge re-doubled in it's efforts to push him higher, intoxicated by your arousal.

He could feel your desperate movements between you, lightly grazing his testicles with the back of your hand.

You surprised him by gently pinching the head of him and thumbing the slit before initiating an unyielding, rapid rhythm wrapped around his cock. Synchronizing with curling the Mage hand towards his stomach, rubbing over the knot of his prostate.

A ragged, strained noise escaped from his throat as the sensations joined, assailing him from both sides.

He pushed back against the Mage hand, taking it's digit to the hilt.

"Oh yes, that's it. Enjoy it. It's for you.. all for you." You chorused his words to you, the words he used every night to pray to your false altar.

But now he had you, truly had you.. and you were spectacular.. you could not be formed into words.. you transcendend this mortal plane.. you were.. more than Godly.. you were-

A second finger penetrated him without refute and stretched his hole, doubling the pleasure against his sweet spot inside his ass, and he cried out in sheer bliss. Your hand wrapped around his cock, pumping in jubilant rhythm combined with the thrusting of the spell deep inside him.

The precipice of orgasm gripped him like a vice and choked him of all other need, apart from that to cum.

In that moment of blessed eternity, the world was narrowed down to nothing more than you and him. A vaccum in existence bathed in magical light.

Rapture split through every atom of his existence, building and climbing in a torrent of unstable energy.

"Yes, Gale-yes-come. Come with me."

His mouth open, panting like a rabid dog, he lost himself entirely.

He roared and strained and gasped, as he shot thick ropes all over your torso. His asshole squeezed and clenched tightly on the digits deliciously stuffed inside him working his orgasm longer. Your skilled hand milking every last drop from him.

He gulped for breath as you cried out underneath him, jerking against your own hand, breathless and exhilarated.

He watched you come undone underneath him, eyes screwed, mouth gaping, then biting down to quieten your moans.

Dear gods, you looked exquisite.

He reached a hand between you both to feel the after effects of your rhapsody, you twitched and laughed through a smile, as he stroked your sensitive sex in the wake of orgasm, riding you longer like you were to him.

"Stopstopstop-too much." You barely gasped against his sweat laden forehead.

There you lay, for what seemed like an easy age, together.

Aftershocks struck you both as you lay together in your joined euphoria.

The Mage hand had disappeared and left him feeling pleasantly sore from the hectic pace.

Gale pushed himself up onto his forearm, extracating his hand from between you. It was covered in your release, it glistened on his hand.

It was one of the most erotic things he'd ever seen. Something he hadn't fantasied.

He glanced back to you, you also held up your hand drenched in him.

You opened your mouth, clearing indicating to feast on yourself from his fingers. His tender cock twitched with desire.

He reciprocated his mouth and you swept your digits in his mouth. He tasted himself, licking his semen clean, as you suckled your own essence from his fingers, then pulled him in for a deep kiss.

Gale moaned at the melding of you both on mating tongues. It was pure sex and exhilaration. The desire and need. The fullfilment and warmth.

The kiss broke and you smiled at him, letting out a large breath.

"That was.." He started.

"Incredible." You finished.

You and he were both covered in cum. It was obscene how licentiously delicious you looked painted with each other.

"That's one of many words." He mused, laughing breathlessly.

Gale pushed himself up higher, "Oh, gods." He snorted, looking down at the scene of debauchery before him and kneeled onto his heels.

He remembered the first time he'd cum to your image, how hollow and alone he'd felt.

But not this time.

This time he felt complete.

Like a piece of him had hurried it's way back to him after so long apart.

"Well, that's one way to let off some steam." He chuckled darkly.

"I think it's hot." You smirked, biting down on your lower lip.

Gale swallowed with difficulty, "Careful you, that's dangerous."

Gale heaved out a breath and came to grips with what had just transpired between you both. How little his imagination had been able to conceive of you. What paltry figments had been the stars of his fantasies.

He glanced down upon you; hair mussed, sweat drying on your skin, clothes rumpled and he couldn't have loved you more.

"What?" He asked in a quiet voice.

Gale shook his head, "Nothing." He feigned.

He waved his hand with a simple somantic and the evidence was gone.

"Then come down here, I'm getting cold." You stroked your hands up his arms and enveloped him into an embrace that warmed all the lost parts of his soul.

"I meant it, Gale. I won't let you destory yourself for this. We'll find another way." You nestled yourself deeper into the hug.

Gale smiled contentedly from ear to ear, "I know we will.. because now I have something to live for."

°•°•

#bg3 smut #smut #gale x gn!tav #gale x reader #gale smut #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale x tav

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nisuna · 2 months

Text

I got super inspired last night, so here's a short drabble about the smut adventures of cult leader!geto x non-sorcerer!f!reader let's goo

I have more planned along the lines of: First time sleeping with him; Public sex in front of his followers; Making you call him by his First Name during sex; Saying I love you during sex; things I have mentioned in my headcannon post (I might do a poll for the next chapter 🙈)

Feel free to check out the headcannons for this AU for more context! (part 2 here!!)

TW: heavy nipple play; nipple sucking, biting, pinching; manipulative geto, short non-con, unprotected sex, creampie, mutual orgasm, FIRST KISS, trust issues, crying, he calls you "pet", power imbalance; cult leader!Geto x non-sorcerer!f!reader

<3masterlist<3

-----------1.2k words; strictly 18+ MDNI--------------

"Geto-samaaa... I need a break today. Please, no more.", you huffed in his arms. Your hips and back were starting to hurt from the countless nights that you've been spending with him.

"What do you mean, pet? Have I overworked you? Oh poor you. But there has to be something I can do to satisfy myself. Tell me, what activity do you enjoy that doesn't involve my cock?"

You felt stumped, but something did come to mind. "Che..."

"Hm? What was that, pet? You need to speak up.", he demanded, looking at you expectedly.

"Chest.", your timid voice broke the silence. "I like it when you play with my chest Geto-sama."

After hearing the words leave your mouth, a toothy grin appeared on his face.

"Good job. Look at you speaking your mind. Such a good pet. Well then, get ready.", he cooed, loosening the knot on your robe. "Tonight, I'm going to town on your chest. Nothing more, nothing less. I promise."

He didn't lie when he said he would go to town, because that's exactly what's been happening for the last half hour. You were on all fours above him while his hungry mouth was sucking in your right nipple. Much to your dismay, however, he was paying attention to the right one ONLY. And at this point, you were getting impatient.

"Mmh whyy~", you mewled.

That caught his attention as he unlatched his mouth from your sensitive nub.

"What is it, pet? You don't like it? That can't be, you were the one who suggested this in the first place. I can practically feel you dripping all over me."

"It's not that...", you mumbled, turning your head, because you didn't have the guts to face him right now.

"What is it then? You have to speak your mind. How elese am I supposed to know if I'm doing something you don't like, hm?"

You sucked in a deep brath and squeaked. "The.. the other one..."

"Hm? Come again?", he cocked an eyebrow, putting his fingers on your chin, finally making you look at him.

"The other one...why do you only play with the right one. What about the left?", you mumbled trailing off.

His mind went ding as he smiled up at you. "Oooh your other one wants attention as well, hm? Why didn't you say so? I'm more than happy to oblige." He hummed caressing your cheek with his large palm.

"However, that service comes at a price."

"What do you-?"

"You have to put in a quarter to play."

"A what? I don't think im following Geto-sama..."

"Oh my dumb little pet. I'm talking about this, of course.", he smiled while sliding his exposed cock through your wet folds.

"Mh- no you said we wouldn't do that today!", you tried your best not to succumb to temptation.

"Just the tip, pet. I promise. Do that for me and I'll suck on your tits all night long.", the way his deep and smooth voice rolled off his tongue like honey made you weak.

How could you say no to such an offer. He wouldn't lie to you right? Geto-sama was a man of his word, you can trust him.

So you reluctantly nodded your head yes and began lifting your hips. He was quick to grab you by your hips and push into you. As promised, he didn't go deep and stopped immediately. You felt relief wash over your body as you tried your best to adjust to the sudden intrusion.

You let out a few huffs before finally discarding your robe, saying. "Mhh, I did my part of the deal. Now's your turn...AH-", as you were about to press your left tit against his mouth, he bottomed out, making you whine his name.

"Geto samaaa noo, you promised we wouldn't.. you.. you lied to me.", you sobbed, digging your nails into his exposed chest. The tears collecting in your eyes almost made him pity you. Almost.

"I'll continue pampering you, don't worry, this is just a quick detour."

You had no energy to defend yourself in his tight grasp, so you let him bully his fat cock into your tight little hole without protest.

After a few thrusts, he sat up, keeping you on his lap and finally fulfilled his part of the deal. His tongue darted out to your neglected left nipple while he pinched your right one between his long fingers. His hips kept rocking up into you while his hungry eyes kept looking up at you all throughout his ministrations.

Your tears of disappointment soon turned into tears of pleasure as you started losing yourself in his grasp. It was when he started to stimulate your puffy clit as well that your mind went blank. The expressions you were making were so nasty, that they soon pushed him over the edge as well.

It was the first time both of you came at the same time and it was understandable that you lost your mind at the intense feeling. It was when he kept fucking you through your high that you lost your sense of self and didn't notice that you grabbed onto his face and pushed your lips against his. Your mouth fell open as a needy moan left your mouth at the feeling of getting filled to the brim. You were so out of it that you didn't notice his eyes shoot open and hands halt all movement.

This was the first time you two ever kissed. Cult leader geto always saw sex as an act of service and obedience. Never once has he thought about kissing someone like you. He talked you through it and prohibited you from ever trying, or else...

Your eyes shot open as well at the lack of reaction and you almost had a heart attack at the realisation of what you have just done.

You were beyond terrified, immediately pulling away and shivering at the sight of his blank expression and his sharp eyes burning holes into you.

You began trembling in his tight grasp as your next words came tumbling out. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Geto-sama, please forgive me-", you sobbed.

As you were about to pull your hands away from his face, he stopped you. You were petrified, expecting the worst. But to your surprise you didn't feel a punishment come your way. Instead, you felt him press his lips against yours and holding your hand in place on his cheek. The kiss was hungry, his tongue prying your mouth open and all you could do was moan and just take it. When he finally pulled away, you didn't dare speak, blinking at him with fear evident in your eyes. Your confusion only grew when you heard him let out a chuckle.

"You surprised me for sure, pet. But let's continue, I quite liked it.", he mumbled.

You nodded, letting out the breath you were holding as you closed your eyes and puckered your lips. While you were making out, you felt him harden inside of you again. This was going to be a long night, after all.

From then on out each time he crashed his lips against yours and made you cream on his cock over and over he thought "fuck it" abandoning his principles. All because of you.

----

I'd love to hear your thoughts!

#geto smut #geto x reader #suguru smut #suguru x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk drabbles #takes with nini♡#jjk fanfic #nini's takes♡#jujutsu kaisen smut #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #suguru geto x reader

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nymphie66 · 6 months

Text

"God Bless America"

Part Two

Part Three

Author's notes: This is my first fic on this blog, so wish me luck.

Soldier boy x f!reader; Warnings: Dark fic, we're ignoring the roe v wade turnover, mentions of abortion, mentions of sex, mentions of cheating.

Description: You fall pregnant with your team member (boyfriend) Soldier Boy's baby. He's obsessed with you and would love nothing more than to lock you down in a suburban home. Unfortunately, you're a modern woman and fed up of his whoring ways - and a supe at that. So instead of panicking when that test comes back positive you decide to remind Ben of what freedom America has granted you

---

Five times he had called you, and five times you had hung up on him. The wind was blowing in your hair as you drove down the highway, pop tunes blasting as you sang your wretched little heart out to them. You drove a classic open-top chevy, something that only Vought money could buy, the only upside to them exploiting your powers. The positive pregnancy test was stuffed in your bag, and you smiled as you remembered taking a picture of it and sending it off. It had been 36 hours since you went MIA, though Vought didn't really care, they knew a certain someone would sort you out.

That certain someone was desperately trying to get ahold of you, after receiving the picture of your positive pregnancy test and the words "guess you'll have to break it to your whores that you are more fertile than you think"

The other women meant nothing, Ben had assured you, simple blips in his dedication to you. You understood, to begin with, that he was a man with a large appetite, and you didn't mind. Your relationship had blossomed on this mutual understanding, that each had insatiable desires that sometimes required external satisfiers. That was until a few months in when Ben had restricted that understanding. Asked you to be his and only his. Which you complied with, as long as he did the same. And he did- or at least he swore he did. And you believed him, because who wouldn't believe America's golden boy?

You were happy, genuinely happy. Lost in the belief of love and adoration until you called Ben's hotel room and another woman picked up. Though after her voice all you could hear was your beloved's harsh scolding of her for picking up and the sound of a body flying across the room. That's when you knew, when the belief broke, and to think you had the test right there in your hands, that you were daresay excited over your next chapter with him.

He had always told you, how good you would look with his baby, how nobody else was worthy of carrying his child. You used protection, even if he didn't and were never worried that his lustful promises would come true. But then they did, nothing is perfect after all.

You threw the phone across the room, your abilities causing it to smash through the bedroom wall and then the next one. A heart once filled with joy and love suddenly soured into hate and revenge.

That's when you sent the picture and the message, and quickly hopped into your car, speeding down the highway, screaming to whatever heartbreak anthem was playing, your phone incessantly ringing.

Eventually, after perhaps the tenth ring, you decided to pick up, and in a sickly sweet - yet slightly psychotic, voice you answered him.

"Hello, Ben, Honey, whatever is the matter?'

"Are you fucking out of your mind woman!? Why the hell weren't you picking up!?" He was pissed off and that only widened your smile.

"So sorry honey, I was just preoccupied, you know its not safe to use a phone whilst driving."

"Well you better be driving your ass over here, we have much to fucking talk about."

"I would hate to third wheel though, I mean it wouldn't be fair to- ha! do you even know her name?" There was a silence which confirmed your suspicions, at least he had maintained that they meant nothing to him. "Anyway, I have to go I'm almost at the clinic."

"Clinic? You're going to get a scan? I want to be there I want to-"

"A scan?" You laughed cruelly, eyes on the road as you overtook various civilians. "No, no Ben, I'm getting an abortion, honey."

"The fuck you are that is my child-"

"And my body! Isn't it amazing what women can do in the modern age? As much as you can whore out your body to any woman with a pulse, I can get mine sorted out by a lovely doctor with a warm smile." You wish you could be there to see his face, as his world crashed down around him just as yours had moments ago. You knew how badly he wanted a child, how badly he wanted a child with you, and you could take that all away from him. "Just a simple procedure and our chemical mishap can be erased. God bless America."

"If you even fucking step foot in that goddamn clinic I will make you regret the moment you ever even fucking spoke those fucking words to me." Ben threatened down the phone and you felt a chill go down your spine, he was more serious than you were. But the enjoyment you got from tormenting him, from hurting him like he had hurt you outweighed any form of sense and you decided to take it a step further.

"Ben you're so right. I won't step foot into a clinic I swear." You put an extra essence of dumb innocence into your words that continued into your next sentence, ignorant of Ben's sigh of relief over the phone. "I'll just go to another man's bed - a real man's, and have him fuck that baby out of me.``

You heard a crushing noise before the line went dead, and you laughed happily. In reality, you had no idea what you were going to do with the foetus, but you knew that first, you had to get a check on your health. Who knew what you and Ben had created, hopefully, nothing like homelander but you wanted to check. Which was what brought you to a nondescript hospital, in an average town, and checked in under the boring cover name Vought had given you for such a scenario - that of needing medical attention whilst laying low.

The lovely doctor with the predicted warm smile told you everything was fine and that you were 12 weeks along, close out of the danger zone but not too far gone that certain options were ruled out. You could do whatever you wanted.

You thanked her and as you gathered your belongings, you couldn't help but put a hand to your abdomen. The thought of life inside you wasn't as repulsive as previously thought, in fact, the more you thought about it the more you assured yourself that you could handle a baby, Ben's involvement or not. You were going to keep the child - but he didn't know that.

Which is why when you left the hospital, you felt a sudden arm around your waist and cuffs placed on your wrists - power subduing ones, and you were quickly shoved into the back of the van. The encounter lasting no more than 20 seconds.

When you managed to look up at your assailant you weren't surprised to see him, Ben. His hair was ragged, his suit had evidently been hastily put on and his eyes were wild. It was one of the few times you actually found yourself scared of him.

You scampered to the back of the van, until your back hit its cool metal walls and there was nowhere else to go. Ben chuckled, darkly as he approached you, a lopsided grin on his face.

"I knew you wouldn't baby, I knew it." He said though it was more reassurance to himself than anything. You looked up at him with a fury, unwilling to submit to his arrogance.

"I still can Ben-" Your words were quickly cut off by his gloved grip around your neck as he hoisted you upwards towards him. You choked and pried at his hand, but it was no use. He was much, much stronger than you.

"It's cute that you think you have the privilege of free will in this situation." He laughed and he relaxed his grip on your neck, not enough for you to be comfortable but enough that his grip would still leave a mark. He jerked you closer towards him, your foreheads resting against each other. "I know I've been bad, baby, I do. And I'm sorry - you hear that? I'm fucking sorry. But I'm here now. Here for you, and for them."

With that, he placed his free hand on your stomach and looked down as he did it. A genuine smile on his face. You continued to struggle but you really were no match for him, not when you were like this. He looked at you and you tried not to recoil at his evident pride and satisfaction that he had you, right where he wanted you.

"We're going to have a happy family, baby. Just you wait."

#soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy #the boys tv #the boys #soldier boy x reader #dark soldier boy x reader #dark fic #tw: dark content

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wardenparker · 11 months

Text

If You Were Mine, pt 1

Javier Peña x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Mature. But this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 15.8k Warnings: Mentions of sex work, smoking, food/alcohol, mentions of past Steve x reader, angst, yearning, the love in requited but they’re both idiots, there’s only one bed, Chucho is the best, this fic has a cockblocking dog and I’m ecstatic about it. Summary: When you and Javi are both suspended and deported from Colombia pending investigation, the truth about what got you into trouble and the onus of trying to decide what comes next hangs over you like a black cloud. Out of guilt - and maybe something else - Javi invites you to stay at the ranch with him while you wait for your hearings. And that’s when things start to get more complicated. Notes: Part one of two! I told Keri that I wanted to write a little wedding date one shot and it got wildly out of hand. And I’m so glad it did, because I love these two idiots.

“So, uh, call me when you land.” Steve Murphy looks decided unhappy, maybe a little nervous as he looks between you and Javi. It’s all out in the open now, the secret spilled, but he’s still not sure how his other partner feels about the revelation that had been the nail in the coffin for sending you back to the States. “Gonna miss you both.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” What had passed between you and Steve didn’t damage your friendship with him or change your working relationship in any way, although it had threatened to. Now, though? Now that everyone knows? You had no work at all. “I’ll let you know where I end up. Don’t know how long it will take me to get back on my feet.”

Guilt is a heavy thing, weighing around Javi’s neck as he shuffles and shifts his bag on his shoulder. You’ve been suspended indefinitely and he doesn’t know what that means for you. Although there’s a long flight back to Miami to talk about it.

The time is ticking by interminably slowly, but you swallow and give Steve a tight, brief hug. “We should go.” You’re on the same flight, so there’s no escaping having to talk to Javier, but you’re not looking forward to it. The whole thing has been a whirlwind.

Javi watches you hug Steve, wondering if there was anything there beyond what had been said. A drunken, sad night where partners decided to fall into bed together. The pang of jealousy is surprising and unwanted.

"Call me when you get back to Texas?" Steve claps Javi on the back and clears his throat, holding back the fact that he's actually pretty fucking emotional about the whole thing. Both of his partners being ejected from the country in one fell swoop isn't a good situation to be in.

“Get the bastard.” Regret laces his words, hating that he had worked so fucking hard and done so much only to be kicked off the team here at the end. He can feel that it’s close, Escobar is backed into a corner.

"Promise." One more pat to his shoulder and Steve is stepping back to shove his hands in his pockets. Colombia is going to be a hell of a lot more lonely without you and Javi here to keep him sane. Or, at least, mutually insane.

The call to board the plane comes over the airport speakers and Javi looks at you. “Looks like that’s us.” He murmurs, hating how defeated you look.

One more round of goodbyes and you’re picking up your purse to hand your ticket to the gate agent. You and Javi have seats right next to each other because the secretary who booked them had thought she was being nice, but the fact that you’ll have hours to talk might not be the best thing in the world. You don’t know yet. There’s a lot Javi doesn’t know about you still – after all, you’d only been in Colombia for a year. Less time even than Steve.

There’s a certain familiarity with storing the bags, getting settled into a seat. You are on the inside seat with Javier sitting on the aisle; but he wonders if you are comfortable with that. “Do you want to swap seats? Or are you good being by the window?”

"I like the window." It's a kind of meditation, but you don't know if he would understand that or not. "Unless..." You glance up at him from your place a few feet away. "Did you want it? I can deal with the aisle."

“No.” He shakes his head and steps back to allow you to move into the seat. “I’ll put your bag up.”

"Thanks." Your oversized tote bag goes to him and you keep only a book for yourself, knowing you won't be able to concentrate on much. The two of you settle into your seats as the other passengers file in and settle down around you. "So you're going back to Texas?" It's what Steve had said, so you figure it must be the case.

“Yeah.” Javi taps his fingers, wishing he could smoke but they had stopped that years ago. “Where are you headed?”

"I'll find a hotel when we get to Miami." There's nothing for you to go home to even if you did go back to your hometown, so you'll have to figure out how to start fresh. Your job experience is intensely specialized, but you'll figure something out.

“You—I’m sure they will call you back to D.C.” he offers quietly. “You’re too good of an agent to let you go. It’ll probably be some bullshit slap on the wrist.”

"Then I guess I'll find a place in DC if they decide not to kick me out on my ass." You shake your head and sit back, shrugging a little when you look over at him. "There's no guarantees in life, Jav. You know that."

“Give it a month.” He predicts with a very guilty conscience. Barely able to look at you. “You don’t want to go home?” He asks. “Visit with your folks?”

"Can't." The fact that he can't even meet your eyes stings more than it should, and you look out the window at the runway instead. "Sister says I'm ungrateful for not dropping everything and coming home when our Mom died, and Dad left when I was a kid. So a heartwarming family reunion isn't exactly in the cards."

“I’m sorry.” He winces slightly and swallows. “That’s– that's shitty. Not the welcome home I guess you imagined.”

"I kinda didn't think I'd be going back at all," you admit with another half-hearted shrug. "At least...if I did it would either be with a job or in a bag, ya know?"

A real possibility in the line of work that you’ve chosen. He musters the courage to finally meet your eyes. “Why did you do it?”

"Which?" The hammer had come down on you for two reasons, but he hadn't known about either of them. "Why did I get drunk and sloppy, or why did I get sentimental?"

“Whatever it was that made them send you home.” He doesn’t believe it’s all because of fucking Steve. There’s something else that he hasn’t been told.

"I'm surprised we got separate meetings, honestly." Sitting back, you tilt your head at him and wish like hell that you could still have a cigarette on an airplane. Or that they would hurry up and start serving alcohol already. "I went to Judy and Don Berna and tried to bargain for your safety," you tell him quietly. "After you told me...about everything. When it was getting bad. And Judy threw me under the bus right along with you." It had been an impulsive move, trying desperately to get Javi a grasp of freedom after getting in bed with Los Pepes, but it had ended up just backfiring spectacularly and getting both of you kicked out of the country instead. Suspended pending investigation, and then they had tacked on the charge of interdepartmental fraternization to boot. Steve got a slap on the wrist. You got a plane ticket.

“Fuck.” Javi squeezes his eyes shut and sighs. Regret souring in his stomach and he desperately wishes he had a whiskey, or something to drink. “You shouldn’t have risked your career for me.” He responds, voice raspy with unspoken emotions. “I’m not worth that.”

"Too late now." He doesn't need to know why you did it. That you had developed feelings for him slowly but surely over the course of the year you had worked together and had been trying to talk yourself out of it unsuccessfully since you know he has no interest in you. "I did what I thought was right. It's not your fault that it bit me in the ass."

The doors to the plane close and Javi leans back in his seat. “Shit.” He hisses, shaking his head. “I'm sorry.”

"It's not your fault, Jav." It isn't. Not really. He didn't ask you to try to help him or involve you in any of the dealings with Los Pepes. In fact, he had actively warned you against it. "I made my decision and now I'm living with the consequences."

“I’m sorry I dragged you into my shit.” He slides his hand over his face and sighs, closing his eyes as the weight of the fallout from his mistakes bleakly shoves themselves into his face again.

"We're both adults, you didn't drag me into anything." Your own stupid sentimentality did that, but he doesn't need to know it. He doesn't need to know the details. "I'll find something new. Get back on my feet. The DEA isn't the end of the line for me."

“Come to Texas with me.” The offer pops out of his mouth, but in reality, it’s a good idea. It's not like there isn’t room at his Pop’s and that way you aren’t spending money you don’t need to until the DEA is done punishing you.

"You don't have to do that." When you look back up at him he looks surprised to even have said it and the small spark of hope that he might have meant it fizzles immediately. "Pity is worse than hatred, ya know."

“It’s not pity.” He immediately argues. “I just hadn’t – it’s a good idea.” He shifts slightly and turns in his seat to face you. “The ranch isn’t luxurious, but it’s comfortable.” For him, it’s home. “Pop has a spare bedroom that is never used. He’d probably be grateful to have more than my sullen ass to talk to.”

It's not that you don't want to say yes. To spend time with him or at least around him. To get to know his family and see where he's from. The problem is that you want to do those things for all the wrong reasons. "I don't know what help I'll be," you warn him, like reminding him that you grew up in a very different way than he did might somehow deter him. "But..." But you could have just a little more time with him before never seeing him again. You deflate a little, knowing that your only other option is throwing money at a hotel for a while. It's not like you can just knock on Connie Murphy's door when you get to Miami – she certainly won't want to see you. "If you don't think your father would mind too much? I'll stay out of both your hair."

“Nah, he won’t mind at all.” Javi promises. He had too many cousins or friends stay over when he was younger for the elder Peña to care about his house being used as a way station. “I’ll give him a ring when we land in Miami.” He promises. “Just so you know it’s okay.”

"Okay." Suddenly you wish you had a drink even more. More time spent with your partner – former partner? – before you let go of him altogether might be more than you bargained for. But still, you don't think you could pass up the chance. Even just a few more days. "As long as it's okay with your dad."

He relaxes slightly, shooting you a small, rare grin. “Okay.” He nods, feeling better about the entire situation. He wouldn’t want to leave you in Miami by yourself even if he knows you are more than capable. Hell, you’re a better agent than him and Steve, but he would still feel uneasy about it.

******

The flights are long, and you end up buying a new book in Miami just to have something to read on the way to Texas. Being back stateside isn't the triumphant return that Javier wanted it to be and his father didn't seem fazed at all by the idea of him bringing someone back to the ranch so you had nodded gratefully. By the time you land at Laredo International Airport you feel about ready to drop but Javi seems as near to relieved as you've seen him in months.

“I need a fucking cigarette.” The non-smoking rule in the airport had killed him, the idea that you couldn’t light up at the restaurants in the States had been irritating and he anxiously waits for his checked bag so he can hopefully get one before his dad shows up.

"You and me both." At least you'd been able to drink on the flights. A steady stream of scotch had kept both of you from getting too irritable.

He spots your bag first, a hideous maroon color that he had teased you about, but it’s handy for spotting it as the conveyor belt rolls around. Stepping forward, he grabs it and turns back to you. “That all you checked?”

"Yeah." You shoulder the bag before he can tease you about the color again and shrug. "Murphy said he'd ship me the rest of my shit if they decide to fire me." Technically you're just under investigation, but anything could happen. "It's boxed up at his place for now."

Javi nods, frowning slightly as he waits for his own bag. Wondering what prompted you to sleep with Steve. Not that it was his business, but you never seemed like you were interested.

"Here." His nondescript black bag swings around the carousel and you nab it for him, not mentioning that the reason you have such an awful colored bag is so you can actually recognize it. His stupid black bag had probably passed by you four times before you had even recognized it. "We, uh...we're waiting for your father to pick us up?" Surely that's enough time for a cigarette, isn't it?

“Yeah.” Javi guides you towards the revolving door and sighs as soon as the warm night air hits him. The airport was artificially freezing. “He should be here soon.”

"Is it bad that the heat is actually comforting?" Colombia might have varying climates, but you had gotten used to the damp heat of the jungles and busy sunshine of the city. "The office is always way too fucking cold."

“Why do you think I kept a jacket around?” He huffs with a grin, fishing in his pockets for his pack of cigarettes. When he finds it, he pulls out the lighter and offers you the pack to take one if you want it.

Humming in thanks, you take a cigarette from the pack and easily lean forward so he can light it after he does his own. It's a practiced ritual, something the two of you have done a hundred or a thousand times before, and a calming one. The air is warm here but it's dry, and seeing that it's the end of the day you can tell it's going to start cooling off quickly. "So this is where you grew up, huh? The original hunting grounds, so to speak?"

He blows out the first, satisfying puff of tobacco and nicotine and chuckles. “You could say that.” He hums, looking out to watch as the last plane of the night takes off. Watching the blinking lights lift into the sky. “Got into a lot of shit around here.”

"I bet." It isn't hard to imagine him as a charming trouble-maker of a teen, talking circles around the adults in his life and pitching that signature Peña smile at anyone with a grudge. "A whole line of swooning country girls left behind you when you took off for bigger things." It wouldn't be that different from all the swooning women he had left behind in Colombia. After all, he has no idea that he brought one of them with him.

“One very bitter, jilted fiancée.” Javi confesses. He had told Steve about Lorraine but he hadn’t said anything to you about her. It had seemed wrong for some reason.

"No." You practically choke on an inhale of smoke and whirl around to look at him instead of watching the parking lot. "You were engaged?"

“Yeah.” Javi admits it wasn’t his finest moment, leaving her at the altar but it was better than the alternative. “I was.”

It casts things in a different light, to think of him that way, but you nod and pretend that you don't have a single care about it in the world. When you had thought of him as having no interest in marriage before, that had been a presumption based on what you had seen. Now, it seemed to have slightly more concrete evidence to support it. "She doesn't still live around here, does she?"

“Think so.” He rolls his eyes slightly. “Her husband Randy is some kind of investment banker.” He scoffs, never having much use for them. They are right up there with used car salesmen and pimps.

"Randy?" You snort at the name, letting it conjure images of either an idiot in a garish suit or else that actor whose last name you always forget from National Lampoon. "Sounds like she traded pretty far down. Might be glad to see you in spite of the break up." Imagining him with just about anyone hurts at this point, why not add insult to your own injury by picturing him getting back together with his ex?

“Doubt it.” He eyes you, waiting to see your reaction. “Left her at the altar with about a hundred of our friends and family.”

"Madre de Dios, Javi!" The Spanish curses are far more fun to use and roll off the tongue more often after having spent so much time in Colombia, and when you swerve to look at him with your cigarette hanging out of your mouth you nearly punch him instead of just shoving him in the arm. Your usual playfulness comes out when you're surprised, apparently. Even if that surprise is tempered with a bad situation. "That woman is gonna murder you if she ever sees you again!"

He shrugs, having accepted that as his fate a long time ago. “She’s moved on, got two kids with her husband. Better with him than me.”

"God forbid the great Casanova himself, Javier Peña, should ever settle down." You nearly huff when you roll your eyes, but a truck in the distance saves you the trouble. "Looks like your dad is here."

He doesn’t know why that comment makes him frown, but he tosses down his cigarette and grinds it under his heel. Annoyed that your off hand teasing has him defensive. “Can't wait to take a shower.”

"Can't wait to sleep without worrying about getting shot or kidnapped," you gripe before painting a smile onto your face. Is your work important? Of course it is. But they took it away from you and branded you the office slut when that title clearly already belonged to someone else, so you'll take whatever comforts you can get at the moment.

He can agree with that, although he never slept well anyway. There was too much on his mind in a constant stream of worry and regret. The pick up truck rolls to a stop and Javi steps forward to open the door. “Pop.” He greets his dad and then turns towards you for a proper introduction. Telling his father your name and that you are his partner, he looks back at you. “Chucho Peña.” He flashes a small grin. “Just call him Pop.”

“It’s really nice to meet you.” Chucho is jovial and friendly, offering you a hug immediately and getting borderline emotional to see his son after you-can-only-guess how long. He hushes you when you try to thank him, ushering you into the truck instead and promising you that he’s glad to have the company.

It doesn’t take long for bags to be thrown into the bed and for the three of you to be loaded up in the truck. “Thanks for picking us up, pop.” Javi knows he could have rented a car, but he doubts the counter is even open at this time of night and the one taxi service that Laredo has is notorious for not answering the phone after 10pm.

“Mijito, I’m not going to leave a beautiful woman stranded.” The elder Peña aims a wink at you and chuckles as he turns over the truck’s engine. “It’s been far too long since we had a face this lovely at home.”

His brows arch up at the flirtatiousness of his father. For a moment, it’s the perfect example of where Javi learned his smooth moves.

“Don’t look so shocked.” Chucho laughs when his son tilts his head and laughs straight from his belly to see your amusement when you snicker on the bench seat next to him. “Your mamá was much too good for me. I had to get her to stick around somehow.”

“Don’t believe a single second of that surprise on his face,” you tell the older man, still laughing. “The flirting is genetic in Peñas, apparently.” Not that he ever aimed it at you. As his partner you might as well have been completely sexless to Javi - a fact which bothered you far more than you would like to admit.

Chucho chuckles again and looks over at you and his son. He’s surprised that Javi had finally brought someone home. “Then I taught him well.” He teases.

The bench seat of Chucho’s truck keeps you tucked neatly in between the Peña boys for the drive home, and the warm air from outside the truck swirls around each of you while the radio plays ranchera and Javier’s father gives you both a rundown of how things are running on the ranch these days. The ride isn’t long, but it’s enough for Javi to get updates on some family members and such, and to find out that his dad’s got a new pair of dogs that he’s doting on.

“That sounds good.” Javi’s never been opposed to dogs and he knows that Chucho has been lonely the last few years. He hadn’t been able to come home often.

"They tend to get up early," he warns his son, laughing at the idea of his puppies waking Javier up when he knows his only boy is not a morning person at all. "Just so you know."

“Great.” Javi rolls his eyes and sighs. Not even one day to sleep in. “Don’t shoot the dogs when they wake me up, got it.”

“We’ll train them to make your coffee,” you tease, knowing that Javi before caffeine and nicotine is barely Javi at all.

“You’re worse than I am.” Javi reminds you with a grunt. He always treads warily before 9am around you.

“I am not!” The tease does make you laugh, though, and you end up shrugging in between the Peña men. “Maybe a little.”

Chucho grins, admiring that you have no issue with Javi’s sarcastic sense of humor. You’re good for his boy, he can tell.

When you pull up to the house it’s smaller than you expected at first but it’s obvious that the ranch house rambles on. Rather than being tall it is long, a sprawling thing that seems to carry on to room after room instead of room on top of room. It’s welcoming and homey, and the two dogs out front are most definitely the puppies that Chucho had talked about on the way here.

“Home sweet home.” Javi is conflicted, opening the door to the truck and stepping out. He turns towards you and reaches for your handbag so you can climb out.

“And with playmates!” The dogs perk up immediately upon seeing two new people, and rush over to you with tails wagging and tongues lolling from happy mouths. “Hi boys!” Without hesitation you’re on your knees in the dirt giving them all the pets and cuddles they could possibly want.

Raising his brow, Javi’s surprised at your enthusiasm for the dogs. Not like there was much time for animals in Colombia. “She’s going to fit right in.” Chucho hums in approval, getting the bags out of the bed of the truck.

“Shit, let me get those, Pop.” Javi hurries around the truck to take them from his father.

“Leave mine, Jav.” Scattering the dogs’ fur with kisses, you flash both men a smile before reaching to take your suitcase from Javi. “Sorry, I just…I grew up around dogs and I miss them like hell.”

“I’ve got it.” He insists, “The bedroom is going to be the first door on the left.” He tells you, imagining that you would be in the ‘guest bedroom’ rather than the old room Javi had grown up in.

“Second.” Chucho turns halfway to the horse with confusion on his face. “Have you forgotten where your room is?”

“No,” Javi shakes his head, now confused himself. “I thought you would put her in the spare bedroom.”

“Mijo…” The elder Peña furrows his brow in confusion. “Why would I put your girlfriend in a different room? You’re not sixteen anymore.”

Javi’s eyes widen, realizing the mistake his father had made. He thinks you are with Javi. That he’s brought you home to meet. “Pop—”

“Danny is getting married in a couple of weeks.” Chucho remembers suddenly. “I told him that you will be bringing your girl.”

“I don’t think that’s—” Standing up fully, you look between both men and clear your throat awkwardly. Javier’s father has made the jump - the assumption - that partner meant in business and in pleasure, and you’re the only woman in the world he hasn’t tried to fuck. “It’s not…” You should never have come here…

“Don’t worry.” Chucho doesn’t want to embarrass you; but he wants you to know it’s okay. “The boy has been charming girls into his bed since he was sixteen, I know what he gets up to. But he’s never really been one to bring someone home, so you’re special.”

“Less special than you think I am.” You mutter under your breath, looking to Javier for help in clarifying the situation without being rude.

“Pop…” Javi frowns slightly. “I think she’d be more comfortable with her own space. She didn’t, we didn’t live together.”

“The second bedroom is basically a junk closet,” Chucho admits, looking a little sheepish. “I didn’t think you would be needing it.”

Shit. Javi knows you aren’t happy but he can talk about the sleeping arrangements when his father isn’t listening. “Okay.” He agrees, pointing you down the hall. “Last door on the left.”

Standing in that room with him ten minutes later is more awkward than the first time you had to go to a brothel with him in Medellín, finding that he knew the name of every girl there and discovering exactly how jealous that made you. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” you tell him without hesitation.

“Don’t be stupid.” Javi shakes his head. “We can share. Or I’ll sleep on the couch if that makes you uncomfortable.” There is no way he would let you sleep on the floor when you are a guest in his house. Or, technically, his Pop’s house.

“I’m not stupid.” Even if he doesn’t mean it, the offensive comment does make you bristle and you frown. “And I’m not uncomfortable.” Daydreaming is what you’ll be, but you’ll be damned if he finds that out. “Fine. We’ll just let your Pops think we’re sleeping together, if that’s what you would prefer.”

“He already thinks we are sleeping together, muñeca.” He reminds you, tossing his bag down on the bed and rubbing his neck. It’s awkward and he doesn’t want to think about why his father would think he was sleeping with you. “We are adults. It’s a big enough bed to share.” It’s not a king like his bed in Colombia, but he had shared a queen-sized bed with plenty of women before.

“Just tell me you don’t kick or talk in your sleep or anything.” You’ll just stay on one far edge of the mattress and find someplace else to stay ASAP. That’s all there is to it, you tell yourself firmly.

“Not that I know of.” No one has told him about shit like that, but it’s been awhile since he’s slept beside a woman. “I’ll even wear underwear to bed.”

“How noble of you.” You huff and roll your eyes.

“If you don’t care…” he chuckles quietly, wondering if you're annoyed or embarrassed.

“Poke me with that thing in the middle of the night and you’re gonna wake up without it.” Better that he should never know what your real reaction to his cock would be. Let him think you don’t want him like he doesn’t want you.

Javi frowns and looks away. “Don’t worry about that.” He grumbles, never happy with the idea of losing his manhood.

“Fine then.” Even with knowing that he isn’t interested in you, it still stings when he assures you that you are safe from his attention. Why are you the one woman Javier Peña won’t put his dick near and why do you still want him to so badly? It’s like a sick joke from the universe.

He can tell you aren’t happy with the current arrangement and he knows that he will be busting his ass to make sure the spare bedroom gets cleaned out. “It’s late.” He bites his lip. “I’ll shower and you can…settle in.”

“I shower in the morning.” He knows that. You’ve had plenty of long stake outs and hikes through the jungle and fuck only knows what else — shared hotel rooms where Steve always took the pull out couch and gave you the second bed. He knows you shower in the morning. But still, when you open your bag to pull out clean pajamas and your toothbrush, you pause. “Unless that would weird you out? Some people think it’s gross to sleep on clean sheets without showering. And it’s…it’s your bed.”

“Whatever you want to do, muñeca.” Javi murmurs quietly. He tries not to think about you in a shower, focusing on unzipping his own bag to pull out clothes. It’s late, so any unpacking would need to wait until tomorrow.

“Tomorrow, then.” You have a feeling you’re going to need a cold shower after sleeping next to him anyway. “And I’ll write your dad a check for having to call long distance. But I promised Steve I’d check in.”

“Don’t worry about that.” He shakes his head and turns to look at you with clean boxers and his toiletry bag in his hand. “I’ll pay the long distance bill. Phone is in the kitchen.”

“We’ll figure it out later.” You tell him with a shrug, not wanting to think about Javi naked or Javi wet. Or Javi all clean and shiny crawling into bed with you. You’re never going to get any sleep tonight. “Now go so I can put my pajamas on. I’m still exhausted from that kid screaming all the way from Miami to here.”

“Yeah,” Javi winces. “The kid had a set of lungs on them.” He motions towards the bed. “Take whatever side you want.” He offers. “Not picky.”

The awkwardness of changing your clothes in Javier Peña's childhood bedroom is very real, but you stack your things up neatly in one corner and slip under the crisp, clean covers and put your head on one of his pillows without letting yourself wonder too often how many girls were in this bed before you. And for very different reasons.

He doesn't take too long in the shower, even though he's tempted to jerk off. Knowing that it will be awkward if he wakes up with his cock pressed against your ass. It's not like you would want that. You wanted Steve. Once clean, he steps out of the shower and towels off, swiping the deodorant under his arms and slipping on a pair of rarely used boxers to sleep in. It was better than sleeping naked, like he normally does.

Javi returns to you leaning half out of the bed petting one of his father's dogs that had nudged its way into the room while he was showering, and you're giggling like an idiot with all awkwardness forgotten at the way the sweet cattle dog is giddy to be getting so much attention.

Javi shakes his head, tossing his dirty clothes into the basket that is near the closet door and he does double back to open the door to the hallway so the pup can leave again. "Why do I feel like the dog's gonna end up in the bed?" He asks.

"He's a good boy," you insist with the most dedicated talking to a puppy voice you can possibly manage.

He rolls his eyes, but it's not in annoyance. Even offering to pet the pup when he comes over to curiously sniff Javi before rejecting his affections to return to the woman who is just basking in his presence. "I'm sure he is."

"You gonna come snuggle up with us, MacGyver?" Javi's father has a habit of naming his dogs after television characters, and these two are no exceptions. MacGyver the cattle dog jumps excitedly before bounding up onto the bed and wiggling right up next to you. "See, Jav? He's a sweet baby."

He sighs, but doesn't protest as the dog wiggles happily and licks you repeatedly as you giggle. You laughing and enjoying doggy kisses is much preferred over the depressed moping that had come with your suspension. He doesn't blame you, his moping just isn't as obvious. "The 'sweet baby' better not hog the bed." He grunts, lifting the covers to get in beside you. Maybe having the dog between the two of you would be a good thing.

"He won't," you promise, even though you have no idea what this dog's sleeping habits are like. You do know that getting cuddles from a dog is the best and happiest you've felt in months, so you're just going to accept it and let the good boy snuggle up to you. "See? He's my snuggle buddy."

“I see that.” It’s impossible to be jealous of a dog and Javi isn’t that ridiculous. His watch and wallet set down on the nightstand, he sits up in the bed and reaches down to pat him a few times and scratch behind his ears.

MacGyver might be the happiest dog in the world right now, and you laugh again before settling down. Tucked down under the blanket with a sweet dog between you and some distance from everything that has happened today, things don't seem quite as helpless as they did this morning. "Thanks for this." As ridiculous as everything is, it's thanks to Javi that you have a place to sleep tonight and a soft place to land. It's not his fault that sleeping in the same bed as him is your own personal hell.

“No problem.” Javi nods and then thinks about something. Hopping out of the bed. “I’m going to get some water.” He tells you. “Want some? So you aren’t searching in the middle of the night?”

"Sure. Thanks." As long as he's offering, you're not going to turn it down. Especially since a tour of the house was waiting for the morning.

“Be right back.” Javi disappears down the dark hallway, sure of his footing and the layout of the house he had been born and raised in.

The light in the kitchen at the end of the hallway is still on, illuminating the large room where Javier's father is babysitting a pot of milk on the stove with Matlock halfway through destroying a chew toy at his feet. "Javi?" He barely turns around. "Need something, mijo?"

“Getting some water.” He knows his Pop has a problem sleeping most nights. It’s gotten worse since his mamá passed, the warm milk helping the older man settle down. “Don’t want her trying to find the kitchen in the dark and tripping.”

"Probably for the best," Chucho chuckles. "Can't find where MacGyver went, she might trip over him in the night."

“Dog’s curled up to her like they are best friends.” He snorts, walking over to the cabinet next to the sink where the chipped glasses from his childhood still sit on the shelves.

"Well, damn." That makes him laugh a little harder, and he ends up leaning back on the counter a little with a contented sigh. "Might be for the best." He can't resist needling his son a little. "Keeps the moaning to a minimum if there's a dog in the way."

“Pop.” Javi groans, feeling like he’s fucking fifteen again, being teased about Mary Louise from his class. Of course his dad had known about the groping and experimenting in his barns after school, but there’s no chance of moaning with you.

"I'm not wagging a finger at you, mijo, I just don't want to be woken up in the middle of the night." He laughs, taking his pan off the stove to pour its contents into a mug. Normally he carries it back to his room to sip while he reads, but it's so nice to have his son in the house again. "She seems nice," Chucho commends. "And she's a knockout, to boot."

Javi grunts, aware of how attractive you are. He moves over to the sink and fills the glasses halfway with cool well water. “She’s a good woman.”

"Hell of a lot sweeter than that Lorraine." Chucho remarks sharply, but he shrugs immediately after. "But that's just a first impression. I'll get to know her well enough soon. Y'all stay as long as you want or need to. It's nice to have life in the house again."

“Thanks Pop.” He means that. Both of you need a place to lay low and rest. Once he gets you into your own bedroom, the uneasiness will pass. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

"Night, son." The nod Chucho gives Javier as he ambles from the room comes with a pat on the younger man's shoulder, and soon enough Javi's father has disappeared out of sight with Matlock right at his heels.

Javi sighs, carrying the two glasses of water to the bedroom and contemplates going outside for one last smoke. Pop doesn’t condone smoking in the house, a rule set by his late wife and Javi respects it. In the end, it’s the hassle of brushing his teeth again so he doesn’t accidentally breathe cigarette breath into your face if he rolls over during the night, that convinces him not to. “You two look comfortable.” The dog is halfway sprawled over you, greedy for your pets and praise like he was a lap dog.

“I miss having a dog,” you admit with a sheepish, sleepy grin.

He hands you the water for your side and nods. “Grew up with dogs out here.” He knows that it’s common, but there hasn’t been time for a pet with the work in Colombia.

Even a single sip of the cold water is refreshing, and you put the glass down on the nightstand beside you with a hum. “There were always a lot of animals around when I was growing up. Dogs, cats, the horses, a goat for a while, a bunch of chickens…” You shrug a little and settle down under the covers with the dog still sprawled out over you. “Guess I missed it more than I thought.”

“Goats are funny things.” Javi chuckles as he gets back into the bed. The door is still open to let the dog out when he wants but he’s not worried about it. “We used to have some that would fall out, stiff as a corpse.”

“We had one that did that whenever my sister got near it. Funniest fucking thing in the world, it made her so mad.” The memory makes you giggle a little, but you’re also pretty punchy from being tired and upset all day, so you scratch lazily behind MacGyver’s ear and blow out a breath. “We should get some sleep.”

“We should.” Javi pushes down and twists his body so he can turn off the bedside lamp and plunge the room into darkness. “I know you are tired, muñeca.” He murmurs as he wonders how long it will take him to fall asleep beside you.

“Mmm.” You are, but you doubt you’ll do anything tonight but pet the dog and stare at the wall. His age-old habit of calling you ‘doll’ seems so much more intimate when it’s said in a shared bed and you can’t do anything about it. Masturbating four inches away from him on the same mattress is out of the question. “Night, Jav.”

“Night.” Javi shifts, settling into the bed and sighing softly, tucking his arm behind his head as he looks up at the ceiling fan spinning lazily overhead. The next few days until that room can be cleaned out will be interesting.

******

The most interesting part, unfortunately, was finding out that the old guest room bed hidden underneath ten years of clutter was broken in two places, making it completely unusable. After more than a week of pulling things out of that room, you and Javier had stood in dusty clothes and looked down at the frame in defeat, deciding to deal with it when you got back from your hearings in Washington, which would begin after the next weekend. A few more days in that bed together with the dog between you wouldn’t kill you — although you were increasingly frustrated at this point — and you would be in DC for however long they saw necessary. After that? After that you would know if you were headed back to Colombia or another field office. Or if you still had a job at all.

“At least we have Danny’s wedding this weekend.” It will be an opportunity to see a lot of family, although there has been a steady stream of visitors to the ranch after word got out that Javi was home.

“Right.” Wincing slightly, you nod and sit back in the chair you parked yourself in when MacGyver came bounding into the house to demand attention. “I should probably make sure I have something other than jeans to wear to that.” The idea of shopping for Javi’s cousin’s wedding is vaguely outlandish, but you’re not sure you have much of anything in your bag from Colombia that would be appropriate.

Javi chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m wearing jeans, I don’t think you’d be out of place.” He honestly doesn’t know if he’s ever seen you in a dress outside of work.

“I think the ghost of my granny would rise up and smack me upside the head if I wore jeans to a wedding.” You laugh at the image and sigh, pushing up from your seat. “C’mon, sweet boy,” you coax the dog. “Let’s go see what’s left in that suitcase that I haven’t unpacked.” Over your shoulder, you throw Javier a familiar smile. “Maybe I have something from that undercover stint I did a couple of months ago.”

His brows rise and he stares after you for a moment. That undercover stint had not been family friendly and he had tried so hard to ignore how good you looked.

“What?” When Javi’s reaction is the opposite of what you were expecting, you stop halfway down the hallway and turn. “Too inappropriate? I might not even have anything with me, anyway.”

“It was…a nice dress.” He comments, shaking his head. “It will look good.” You would be the sexiest woman there, though that wouldn’t be hard when everyone else is either family or lifelong friends. His problem is that every person there believes that you are his and he will be fielding ribald jokes all day.

“Wouldn’t want you to be embarrassed to be seen with me.” It picks at you in a way you haven't expected, that he has just let everyone believe you’re together. Even Chucho is still convinced of it and at this point there is probably no telling him otherwise. Every subsequent night you spend in his son’s bed is proof to him, even if you sleep with the door cracked open and the dog between you, and have never shared physical affection in any way.

“Never be embarrassed about being seen with you.” He frowns, wondering where that comment came from. You’re a good looking woman and know that. You got hit on all the time, the men around the embassy and the members of the Bloc. You are probably the one embarrassed to be seen with him. “You call Steve?”

“Yeah.” It’s awful when he bristles at you like a cat with its fur standing on end, but since you have no clue what you did to deserve it this time, you just turn into his room to look at what’s left in your suitcase. “He’s gonna hang on to my stuff until I know if they’re transferring me or outright firing me.”

“I’m sure he misses you.” The close proximity to you is starting to gnaw at him. The ache in his cock matches the hollowness in his heart. Reminding himself that this isn’t what you want, he sighs at the broken bed, putting on his gloves again to toss the ruined item into the large pile of junk that’s been amassed to take to the dump.

“Sure. I mean…that’s what you do with friends, right?” Rummaging in the bottom of his closet, you come out of your suitcase with a little black dress and a pair of stylish high heels that you’d bought for the op, using it as an excuse to get something nicer than what you wore for work everyday. Telling yourself that you’d kept them on the off chance that you ever got asked out on a date. “Are these okay?” You ask, appearing in the guest room doorway a second later. “I have some colorful jewelry so I won’t look like I got lost on my way to a funeral.”

“Whatever you want to wear.” Javi doesn’t know much about women’s fashion besides how to peel a woman out of her dress, but it seems fine to him. “You will look good.”

"Okay." It was an attempt to engage with him, to maybe hear an anecdote or get encouragement, but he's closed himself off again. It just makes you want to shrug it off and walk away so you go back to his room to put the clothes away and grab your book off the nightstand. You'll go read and get out of his hair for a while. Clearly spending so much time around you is grating on him.

Javi sighs again when you walk away, watching you and he can’t help the way his eyes tip down to your ass. It’s a nice ass. Making him frown when he remembers Steve saw it. He’s never been a jealous man, but fuck if he’s not jealous of that fucking hillbilly right now.

Finding Chucho out in the garden shouldn't have been a surprise, but when you flop down on the porch swing in back of the house with your book and look up to see him smiling and waving from the herb pots, you still startle a little. "H-hey Pops." You wave back awkwardly and silently congratulate yourself on being dumb enough to accidentally trade one Peña for the other. There's no escape though, because if you flee Chucho's presence you'll just have to explain yourself later.

“Mija.” Chucho notices the unhappy look on your face that you quickly decide to suppress. “My son giving you heartburn?” He asks, swiping his hat off his head to wipe the sweat. “I keep telling him that he does not have to be so glum all the time.”

"It's nothing, Pops, I promise." The last thing you want is for him to be thinking that you and Javi are having relationship problems when you have no relationship to begin with. "I'm just a little anxious." Good. You'll go with that. He knows the hearings are coming up anyway.

“They would be fools not to take you back.” Chucho grunts, although he keeps his opinion on whether you should go back to himself. “If they don’t, you can stay here as long as you want. Javier likes you here.”

"The standards are different for me." It's bullshit, but it's true. Being a woman, you have to out perform every single one of your male coworkers in order to just keep your head above water. And you had let yourself get sentimental over Javier - the one man in your universe who never seemed to care what you thought of him in the first place.

“They know that one day you will be telling them that you are carrying Javier’s baby.” Chucho huffs, shaking his head. “Stupid men believe women cannot carry a child and do a job. Even though women are stronger than men.”

"That—um—" To hear that from his father flusters you beyond imagination, and you nearly vibrate in a very uncomfortable way. "That isn't...Chucho that's not...Javi and I don't have that kind of relationship." You hate feeling like you're lying to the man when he's been so incredibly kind to you. Maybe it's better that he knows the truth. If you're not Javi's girlfriend he might not want you here — and that's something you need to know.

“Not now.” Chucho huffs. “When the boy gets his head out of his ass and decides to make an honest woman out of you, he will want babies.” He leans against the railing and smirks. “He’s actually good with the bebitos.”

"No, that's not what I—" You stop though, tilting your head slightly in confusion. "I've never seen him look anything but terrified in the presence of babies or small children."

“Really?” Shock turns to amusement and Chucho nearly doubled over laughing. “He said he was going to pretend he knew nothing.” He gasps as he chuckles after a long minute. “Mija, Javier is the oldest of all the cousins. He was changing diapers before he was eight. His tía swears he was the only one who could get Danny to stop crying.”

"Really?" The idea of Javi taking care of any kid is unexpected to you, and you hate the way it warms through you. The way it makes you yearn.

“He is a good boy, a bit stubborn.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “But throw a baby in his arms and the boy would light up.”

"Not in Colombia." You shake your head a little. "Our other partner...he and his wife had adopted a baby while she was in country with us. I don't think I ever saw Javi go near her."

“Olivia.” Chucho nods. “Javier blames himself for what happened to her mother.”

"Sometimes the best thing we can do is work toward the best solution for a bad situation." Sweet little Olivia is with Connie now, and although you don't know what will happen between Connie and Steve, you know that baby will be loved and looked after. That's all you can really hope for sometimes. Love and care.

“That is a good way to look at it mija.” He nods, looking back out at the garden. “You will be good for him.” He promises you. “Everything he’s ever told me about you is true.” He reaches over and pats your hand before he turns back to go down the porch steps and back into the garden.

He's talked about you? Maybe Chucho just means the things that Javi has told him since you've been in the house, you really can't be sure. The best you can do is try to push it out of your mind and open your book.

******

Once the bed frame and mattress are tossed, Javi strips down and climbs into a cold shower. Groaning at the refreshing feeling of the water as it calms his overheated skin, he leans against the wall. You are upset at him, and he wonders if he can take you into town for a meal or something to get you to forgive him.

It's been almost an hour before Javi emerges again, looking very much like himself in that blue shirt with the pinstripes that makes him look taller and crisp, clean jeans. The dogs are the first to notice him, woofing excitedly and jumping up onto the porch to get dusty pawprints on his thighs before you can even turn around.

Javi snorts and shakes his head as he scratches the dog's ears. “Do you want to go into town?” He asks casually. “Get a drink and a meal no one in this house cooked?”

Though the voice in the back of your head wonders if he's asking out of guilt, it does sound nice to get out of the house and you had started feeling hungry about a half hour ago. Cleaning the guest room had been a bigger task than either of you expected and you're pretty sure you skipped lunch most days by accident. "Sure," you nod, plucking your bookmark out of the back cover of your book and saving your page for later. "Sure, that sounds nice."

“Okay.” Javi nods and shoves his hands in his jeans. “I’ll — you go get ready and I’ll get the truck keys from Pop.”

"Okay." You nod in return and disappear back into the house to wash up and change into clean clothes. That black dress is the only nice piece of clothing you managed to pack, but the jeans you routinely wore to the office were decent looking and several of the blouses that you had brought back to the States were nice, soft, floral things that you had bought in Colombia. So when you reappear a little while later in clean clothes with your face washed and hair tamed, it almost feels like the date you know you're never going to get with him.

“Ready?” Javi pops up from the rocker and he swallows harshly at the sight of you all cleaned up. He’s going to need a double in order to not say something stupid. “Got the keys.”

"Okay." Yeah, this feels exactly like getting ready for a date, and you seriously hope that wherever he's taking you has a liquor license because otherwise you're gonna make an idiot of yourself. "Where are we going?"

“There’s this bar in town.” Javi saunters down the porch steps and out to the truck. “Looks like shit but they serve the best damn food.”

"That's usually how it goes." You follow him out to the truck and hide your surprise when he opens the door for you. The dogs are pouting from the front door to see you go but you settle back in your seat when he climbs behind the wheel. Town isn't too far of a drive and it isn't like you've never been alone with Javi. You've just been alone with him a hell of a lot more since getting suspended from the DEA than you ever were when you were active agents.

“Wings are good, but the chili rellenos are probably the best in town.” Javi throws his arm on the bench as he backs the truck up to turn it around. “And add it to a burger? I used to live off of them when I was a sheriff’s deputy.”

"A chili relleno burger?" The idea has you nearly drooling, but you tilt your head at Javi as he starts to drive. "You were a deputy? Seriously?" As much as you know him as a law enforcement officer, he's so prone to break the rules that imagining him as a small town cop just seems so unlikely.

“Yep.” He shrugs and continues to guide the truck down the long drive from the house to the road. “A million years ago when I got out of college.”

"I wanted to be Secret Service." There's no reason to tell him this, but you find it rolling off your tongue anyway as the truck rumbles down the dirt road. "I started the process and ended up with the US Marshals instead. The DEA is where I went afterward. We worked a big joint operation with the DEA in LA and they offered me a transfer for my good work." Sometimes you wonder what would have happened if you had never taken that transfer at all, if you had stayed with the Marshals, but it's too late to do anything about it now.

“No shit?” Javi is impressed, looking over at you with a grin before he hums. “No damn wonder you run laps around us.” He had always admired your work ethic. It was one of the reasons he had kept clear of you, wanting to make sure you weren’t smeared by his reputation, although the joke was on him since you were fucking Steve.

"Yeah." You nod your head and shrug like it doesn't matter, because to some degree it doesn't. After all, Javi had been DEA for far longer than you. "Doubt they'd take me back, though."

“They’d been fools not to.” Javi sighs. “I think they will. Maybe some shit hole assignment for a few years. But you’ll overcome that.”

"You'll get to go back to Colombia. I know you will." For some reason you're certain of it. Not only because Javi tends to overcome his own shitty hardships pretty well through charm and perseverance, but because he's a damn good agent. He worked that case against Escobar longer and harder than anybody and he damn well deserves to get to go back.

“Doubt it.” He frowns and shakes his head. “It hurts not being there. Knowing that they are close to getting the bastard.”

"You will." Your hand rests on his arm on the back of the seat and you give it a supportive squeeze. After all, regardless of what else you feel for him, he's your partner. Your friend. "I can feel it."

“Thanks.” Javi sighs again and tries to shake off the glumness. “Maybe after Escobar is caught…you can figure out what you are doing with…Steve.”

"I really wish you would stop bringing that up," you tell him, letting your own sigh loose. "It was one time, we were drinking, and it was a mistake. That's all. He missed Connie and I—" He doesn't need to know, you remind yourself sternly. "I let it go too far."

He didn’t know that. He had assumed that it was something more. At least more than once. “I’m sorry.”

"We were never going to tell anyone." It feels like an explanation is warranted, since you snapped a little, and you sit back in your seat. "I don't know what happened. Somebody found out and it got back to the higher ups." Stupidly, you shrug. "Sometimes you do shit you shouldn't have for dumb reasons. That's all. He's my best friend, and it shouldn't have happened."

“I thought you two were having— that it was something more.” He admits, shrugging slightly. He doesn’t want to admit that he was jealous. He’s not your best friend.

"You thought we were having an affair." You swallow a sigh and wish you had brought your cigarettes. "It wasn't that. We just...neither of us could have what we wanted, so sometimes when that happens you make the dumb decision to cling to whatever is closest."

“Why couldn’t you have what you wanted?” He catches that and frowns slightly. Wondering what you couldn’t possibly get.

"Doesn't matter now." He's perceptive as hell as an agent, but shit sometimes Javi is oblivious. And the last thing you want is to make shit awkward between you by admitting that you want him and pretty much always have. Since you met, at least.

He frowns and wonders why you are being cagey. Unless it was someone in Colombia that you had left behind. “Well, I’m sorry.”

"You didn't do anything to be sorry for." It's not his fault that he doesn't want you. It's not like he sat back and consciously decided not to be attracted to you. That would be kind of insane, to be honest.

“No, I did.” Javi snorts. “Spent so much time making sure no one thought you would sleep with me, I didn’t notice you and Steve.”

"You made it very clear that you didn't want to sleep with me." And it fucking stings that he would be so casual about bringing it up. Maybe dinner was a mistake. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake.

“Oh I wanted to sleep with you.” Javi snorts. “That’s why I made sure everyone knew I wasn’t.” He taps his fingers on the steering wheel. “There was a betting pool on how long before I fucked you when you showed up.”

"You–I–there was a what??" There is no way to disguise the shock in your voice, and you probably should have taken a breath before you opened your mouth, but you're too dumbstruck for logic at the moment.

“Yeah.” Javi shakes his head in disgust. “Bastards, every one of them. Acting like it was just some kind of game. That you weren’t an agent and just another worker at the brothel.”

"Okay, but–" Your mind is spinning a little and you reach to shut off the truck's radio, hoping that it will help you think a little more clearly. "But you–you said that–Jesus fucking Christ this can't be happening..."

“You didn’t know?” Javi looks over at you and wonders why this seems to be rocking you so harshly. “Even the damn ambassador had a stake in the pool.”

"No I didn't fucking know!" And right now it feels like it's going to drown you, the disbelief and the frustration crashing over you in equal measure. "And Steve sure as fuck didn't know. Otherwise he should have fucking said something instead of sleeping with me."

What the fuck does Steve have to do with it? Javi frowns and shakes his head. “They all talked about it in Spanish. You know he can’t fucking understand half of a conversation on a good day.”

"He can't even order in a restaurant." Which was a source of endless amusement, but it doesn't answer your biggest question. The one that has you turning to watch him while he drives with exhausted curiosity. "So...you were protecting my reputation? Is that it?"

“You’re a good agent.” Javi insists. “If they thought you were fucking me, they wouldn’t give you any of the respect you are due.” It’s bullshit and completely wrong, but it’s what would have happened. “So I just….acted like you were a man.”

That makes you groan, and you cover your face with both hands as he drives. “Fucking, of course you did.” That certainly explained a hell of a lot, even if you’re not thrilled about the answer. He had done it out of respect, knowing that you couldn’t get both. Meanwhile, you would have gladly taken the option to be banged like a screen door in July.

You don’t sound happy about his decision as you groan and he is utterly confused. “Sorry?” He practically asks it, unsure why you are annoyed. You know how men act.

"You didn't do anything wrong." In fact, he did less wrong than you had originally thought, which makes it so much more difficult to be mad about.

“You sound pissed.”

"I'm surprised." Pissed is the wrong word, although you're not exactly excited to find out after the fact that you didn't have a chance for entirely different reasons than you thought.

Silence falls in the cab of the truck and Javi feels you shifting beside him as he drives. It’s probably that it was kept from you, he decides. You never like being kept in the dark, but he had never shared anyone’s proclivity for locker room bragging. The awkwardness and discomfort of the whole situation makes you feel like you’re walking on eggshells, until eventually you shift one too many times and can’t stand it anymore. “I thought you didn’t like me,” you murmur, staring out the window.

“Oh.” Javi is shocked you would feel that way, but he guesses it’s not too much of a stretch. “I thought you didn’t care. You never seemed to think I was anything but a manwhore.”

The times you had teased him about it or made side comments were very definitely not your finest moments, and if you could fold up into a pretzel in this truck as he pulls into town, you would. “Of course I care.” This is barreling dangerously close to a confession, but you don’t know what else to say. The idea that you don’t care about him is absolutely the furthest from the truth.

He had thought that you were judging him for how he spent his time and who he slept with. There had seemed to be an edge of disdain to your barbed comments, so he had assumed that you hadn’t approved. “Well, it doesn’t matter now.” Javi huffs. “I’m not sleeping with anyone.”

“That’s…technically not true.” And the realization makes you huff at your own ridiculousness and even roll your eyes. “You’re just actually sleeping with me, not the euphemism.”

He chuckles and shrugs. “And the dog.” He reminds you, MacGuyver deciding that his favorite sleeping spot is between the two of you. Javi slept on the edge of the mattress most nights.

“I love that dog but he is a bed hog.” It’s sweet, though, and has kept you from doing anything stupid, which you have to stay grateful for.

“So it’s not just me?” Javi grunts. “I’m almost falling off the damn bed by morning.”

“We’re both sleeping on the edge and MacGyver’s got the whole bed to himself.” A half-laugh makes it out of you as he pulls up in front of a nondescript building and you shake your head. “This it?”

“This is it.” Javi puts the truck into park and shoots you a grin. “Just say no to the Hellspawn Boilermaker.” He advises you before he climbs out of the truck.

“Why would you tell me that?” You’re out of the truck and onto the sidewalk in an instant and throwing him a pout. “Now I have to know!”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He cautions, striding up to the door and holding it open for you.

Inside is dimly lit and a little on the loud side, with plenty of people drinking and just as many eating while the jukebox plays and the pool tables in the corner stay active. It’s a hole in the wall for damn sure, but an inviting one. “Do you want to sit at the bar?” Javi asks, spying a small table in the corner of you don’t.

“Wherever.” This is his town - his place - and you are flexible as long as he feels comfortable. You’re going to be in your head the whole dinner now that you know he used to want you anyway, so you truly couldn’t care less.

“Let’s sit at that table.” He would rather not answer a dozen questions on being home. So he guides you over to the small table.

A waitress notices you quickly enough, bringing over two thin menus and taking your drink orders while simultaneously making it obvious that she finds Javi extremely attractive. Not that you can blame her, but she is awfully blatant about it. What if you were on a date or something?

Javi studies the menu quickly before setting it aside and leaning back, reaching for the ashtray. He has been dying for a cigarette and needs one now.

"So this is an old haunt?" The menu is nothing surprising - basically barbecue and some house specialties, but it all sounds damn good.

"Pretty much." Javi smirks slightly. "We all used to drink underage here, back when that wasn't horrible." He explains. "Then most of us became solid citizens. Half the police force in Laredo used to come here."

"Boilermakers for all?" You guess, shooting him a grin.

Javi chuckles and shrugs slightly. "I'm surprised that it wasn't offered when we ordered our drinks. Wonder if they still do it. It was a tradition."

"When I was in the Marshals, we used to do these awful tequila bombs after missions." For better or for worse, you haven't had one in years. Although it almost feels like a sentimental memory now, it was more like hazing back then. "Thank god we could get good tequila in LA. If I had tried that where I grew up, it would have been cheap shit and bad beer and tasted even worse."

He chuckles again and nods. "This is a habanero infused whiskey with a shot of pickled jalapeño juice dropped in it, all dropped into a glass of Budweiser. Have to drink it all in one shot."

"Ugh." The grimace on your face is immediate, but still you're laughing. "So the kind of thing Milgroup would make their boys drink and tell them it's a Colombian specialty?"

"Yep." The waitress swings back by, dropping off drinks and lingering for just a moment, so Javi picks up his whiskey and looks up at her. "You still offer the Hellspawn?" He asks curiously before he downs the shot in one toss of his head.

"Only to people brave enough to try it," she simpers, clearly meaning dumb instead of brave, but not wanting to put him off.

Javi smirks and looks over at you. "Give us two and a basket of cheese fries to cool down with." He orders.

"We're both going to do the barbecue burger." There isn't even a debate on that – the burger boasted cheddar cheese, thick cut bacon, house barbecue sauce, and onion straws with house-made pickles on the side and that has both your name and Javi's written all over it like a neon sign. When the waitress nods and walks away with your menus, you sit back and laugh at his expression. "You didn't think we'd both gravitate toward the same thing? That's the quintessential burger for us."

"I expected you to go for the chili relleno burger." He admits with a small grin.

"I thought about it." You really did, especially since he had mentioned it on the way here. "But...onion straws. You know I'd probably climb through the jungle in high heels for anything having to do with fried onions."

"That is true." He frowns. "Haven't you already run through the jungle in high heels though?"

Only once, but it had been early on and Javi had made you out to be something of a legend for managing it. "Yeah, so I know what a pain in the ass it is."

"I wouldn't want to find out for myself." He picks up the glass of water that had been delivered with the other drinks and takes a sip. "Word of advice, don't try to drink water after the Hellspawn. Makes it worse."

“Noted.” Although that has you morbidly curious, you don’t ask questions. He ordered the cheese fries, that’s what is going to happen after the drink of doom.

The jukebox starts to play and Javi looks around the bar again. Noting that not a lot has changed over the years. "So we just need to get through Danny's wedding." He broaches the subject. "I'm sorry, but I think pop has told the entire family that we are together. So expect questions and tales about the wedding that wasn't."

“Why didn’t you ever tell them that we aren’t?” It is such a point of curiosity and frustration that you need to ask. As much as you don’t want to upset him, you need to know why he never just told his family that you aren’t his girlfriend.

He sighs and shakes his head. "It's–" He doesn't want to admit that he had talked a lot about you with his Pop, giving the man the impression you were very important to him. Because you were. "I don't know." He admits with a shrug, figuring that it was easier to say that than to admit that he wondered what it would be like to be in a relationship with you.

“Bullshit.” It is, and you’ll call him out on it any day of the week. There’s apparently shit he’s been hiding from you, but this isn’t going to be on that list anymore.

He frowns, lips curled unhappily and he reaches for his cigarettes again after crushing out the one he just finished. "What the fuck do you want me to say?" He demands, shoving the cigarette between his lips and flicking the zippo open.

“The truth.” Your beer is going to be empty pretty quickly at the rate you’re drinking it, but fuck it. You’re annoyed after everything that got said in the truck. “I’m not gonna get mad, Jav, whatever it is. But I just found out you’ve been keeping shit from me and you’re lying about this and I hate being lied to.”

"I haven't lied." Javi shakes his head, lighting the cigarette and taking a long drag off of it before blowing the smoke up into the air. "Not to you. And I've kept plenty of shit from you." It's not the best argument but you don't let it go, just staring at him and waiting for your answer. He sighs and catches the waitress's eye, lifting his glass to indicate he wants another drink and sighs again. "Because I didn't want to tell them you weren't my girlfriend."

“But I’m not.” The lackluster explanation has only made you more confused, and you drain the end of your beer with your eyes pinched closed. “You just don’t want them to know you’re single? Jav, I would have given you shit about it but I would have played along. You could’ve just asked. I get having an invasive family.”

"I don't give a shit about that." Javi scoffs and shakes his head. Looking away from you in embarrassment. "You– you're the closest I've been to a relationship since Lorraine." He admits quietly, shrugging one shoulder. "It's kind of nice."

“Lorraine is…the fiancée you left at the altar?” If you’re the closest he’s been to a relationship since that, he’s even worse at them than you thought.

"Yep." Javi huffs and leans back when the woman brings over his next drink.

"Those Hellspawns are almost ready." She tells him with a wink.

He nods but he doesn't watch her walk away, finding your eyes again. "Talked about you enough that Pop thought...well, he thought I was hesitant to admit we were dating."

“You talked about me?” All of this is news to you, but at least you can keep your voice down with that no one is looking your way. “Like…before you told him I was coming here?”

Javi frowns again, picking up the new glass of whiskey. "Of course I did." He tells you. "You didn't ever talk about me?"

“I don’t talk to my family.” They don’t want to hear from you and you don’t want to fight with them, so it was just easier to avoid by not calling. “The people I talked to most were you and Steve.”

He rolls his eyes, aware that any conversation with Steve about him wouldn't be a good one. "I–" He tosses back the drink and shakes his head. "It's nice, okay?" He hisses. "Fucking normal. I feel normal. Imagining that we– that you–" He breaks off and slumps back. "I'll tell them."

“He wanted me to tell you.” The words come blurring out of your mouth like you had tried to swallow lava, and it’s immediately too late to take it back.

"Tell me what?" Javi barely pays attention to you, clenching his jaw as he thinks of how to break it to his Pop that the woman who is 'perfect for him', isn't even someone he's ever kissed.

The waitress comes back, this time with a tray with six items on it. Two shot glasses, two whiskey glasses and two beer glasses. The makings of the Hellspawn. "Here we go."

With the moment broken, your sudden burst of bravery deflates and you sit back, very nearly pouting sullenly. “Right. Let’s just drink.”

"Okay." Tessa sets the tray down and smiles at Javi. "You know how this works right?" She asks, sure that he might be the most handsome man she's ever seen. "Drop the jalapeño juice into the whiskey and then drop both glasses into the beer." The glasses of beer were only half full, making sure that it's not too messy. "And those cheese fries are coming right up."

“Can’t take the barely legal waitress home if you’re still fake-dating me,” you mutter after she walks off, feeling bitter at your own stupidity at this point.

"What?" Javi frowns, confused at what you are talking about. "I– her?" He shakes his head. "I haven't even looked at her."

“Until twenty minutes ago in the truck I was under the impression that your rule was anybody but me, so I’m still adjusting,” you tell him curtly before dropping your drink together with determination and putting the concoction to your lips so you can’t say anything else stupid.

"Fuck you." Javi drops the juice into the whiskey and glares at you before he picks up that glass to drop into the beer. "I always wanted you. Still do." He picks up his own drink and starts to down it.

It isn’t until your glass is down – the foul drink being oddly tasty at first but soured by the mood that you find his eyes again. “I slept with Steve because I was depressed that you never looked at me twice.”

Javi grimaces and coughs slightly at the burn of the capsaicin in the drink before staring at you. "Probably because when I looked at you, you were walking away from me."

“He told me to tell you.” You repeat, wishing you had another drink to down, like maybe you could drown yourself in them. “Said you deserved to know. So there. I’m telling you.”

"So there?" Javi reaches for the water out of reflex. "Like I was expected to know you wanted me to look at you when you scoffed every time I left the office." You knew where he was going, what he was doing. He hadn't hidden it. You had made your feelings about his affairs very clear.

“Shockingly,” this time your sarcasm is aimed at yourself. “I didn’t handle being in love with you very well. Being jealous of every other woman in Colombia grated on me just a little.”

The water is halfway gone when Javi realizes his mistake. The burn of the peppers in the whiskey immediately increases and he feels his tongue start to burn. "Shit."

“Shit?” Not having registered the drink or the water or any of it, you sigh only so you don’t scream and squeeze one hand into fist as hard as you can. “Forget it. Never mind. I’ll get my shit out of your Dad’s house and find a hotel tonight. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Eyes watering, Javi squeezes them shut and prays that the fries come quickly. "H-hot." He wheezes after a moment of trying to speak but being unable because of how bad his mouth is watering.

“Wha—oh!” When you finally realize what happened – remembering what he said about water making the drink hotter and realizing that he had half of his glass – you are up and out of your seat in a heartbeat to go straight to the bar for a glass of lemonade or juice or even tomato juice. Anything with acid. The confused bartender gives you a glass of tomato juice with lemon and says he’ll put it in your tab in the same breath that you’re thanking him and bringing it back to the table.

Breathing hurts and Javi's trying not to inhale too much as you rush back over with the glass of juice. Shoving it into his hand as he greedily starts to gulp it down in an effort to quell the burning of his mouth and esophagus.

Acid helps heat. Carrillo told you that once when you had dinner with him and his wife and got in over your head with his wife's fantastic and incredibly spicy salsa. It won't cure him instantly but it will help, and now you're sitting at the table feeling like an idiot for getting mad about his reaction when he was in pain.

Once every drop of the juice is gone, Javi sighs, setting it down and cursing himself for being so unnerved by you and this entire situation and he had fucked up and done exactly what he had warned you again. "Thanks." He grunts, reaching for a napkin to wipe his mouth and wishes he had another beer to wash down the taste of the tomato juice.

"Sure." The awkward shuffle of two people who can barely look at each other is mercifully interrupted by the waitress arriving with the plate of fries and two more beers, and she takes your glasses away silently after reading the tension between you.

"So." Javi takes a large swallow of his beer. "Let me lay this out. I made sure not to hit on you so it wouldn't ruin your reputation. And you were mad at me for not hitting on you?" He asks, finally glancing back over at you.

"Not...technically?" Thank god there's food to concentrate on right now and you can be justified in not looking at him. "I was jealous and frustrated. Not quite mad."

"And I'm jealous that you fucked Steve." He confesses. "When I found out, I figured that was why you never seemed to like me."

"He was upset about Connie and I was upset about you." You poke at a few cheese fries with your fork and try not to curl in on yourself. "I said your fucking name in bed with him Jav, it's not like I'm not fully aware that I fucked up."

"Oh don't tell me that." Javi winces, his own fries halfway to his mouth. "I– that's– ouch."

"I just said I fucked up." You point out. "I did. And we both knew it. That's why he told me I should tell you."

"You have told me." He murmurs, shoving the fries in his still overheated mouth. "And look like you want to be anywhere else but here."

"I'm not chomping at the bit to be rejected, that's all." There is a difference between wanting someone and you just admitting to being in love with him, and you are absolutely as fully prepared to be told that he doesn't feel the same way about you that you have been the whole time. It's just that now he actually knows the extent of how you feel.

He never thought you were dim witted. Out of the three of you, Javi had personally felt you were the smartest agent there. Yet you still have not made the connection despite all the pieces being in front of you. "And you are here because I could not admit that you and I aren't together."

A long moment of silence passes between you before you close your eyes and sigh, feeling even stupider than you had a minute ago. "...fuck."

Javi doesn't say anything. Letting the moment hang between you. If you want to clarify, to ask something, you can.

"I honestly can't decide which one of us is more of a dumbass," you mutter, wiping one hand over your face. "Probably me, honestly. But fuck..."

"Did you work with Los Pepes?" Javi snorts, shaking his head. "I think that honor would go to me."

"No." The shift at the table is only your awkwardness, and you gulp another breath. "But I did go to them to beg them to let you out of your agreement, so I guess I'm specifically a sentimental dumbass."

"You shouldn't have." Javi insists. "They would have just slapped you on the wrist for fucking Steve if that hadn't come out. You would still be there. In the hunt for that bastard."

"Well, I did." The things you do for love apparently include tanking your career. "You had been there a hell of a lot longer than any of us. You deserved to see it through."

"Apparently not." Javi grumbles, shaking off the sense of disappointment. "That's life though."

"I'm sorry." It's not as though you made it worse, but you certainly didn't make it any better.

"It's not your fault." Javi knows he has no one to blame but himself. "I'm sorry." He is the one who is ultimately responsible for you being sent back to the States. He is the one who needs to apologize.

"You didn't make me go to them. For that matter, you didn't make me get drunk and stupid with Steve, either." You sigh, shaking your head. "I did what I did for my own dumb reasons and you have nothing to apologize for."

"You felt like you had to protect me." Javi hums quietly. "You put your career on the line for me."

Picking up your beer, you stare into the golden bubbles for a second before nodding. “The shit we do for love, right?”

"You don't love me, muñeca." Javi shakes his head. "You don't know all the things that I've done. You think you love me.”

“You don’t get to decide that.” You tell him flatly. “You don’t have to feel the same way, and you don’t have to be my friend, or even my partner. But you definitely don’t get to decide how I feel about you.”

That shuts him up. Staring at you for a moment before he frowns, nodding at the truth in your comment. "I am– I am not a good man."

“Does that immediately disqualify you from deserving every morsel of happiness?” Some people might say that it does, but you’ve never believed that.

"I will let you down." He sighs softly, revealing his worst fear.

"How do you know that?" Considering you haven't actually asked him for anything, the possibility is extremely miniscule. The worst he can do at this moment is tell you no, and that's what you're fully expecting. So it can't be a let down at all.

"It's what I do, muñeca." Javi snorts. "My mother, Lorraine, Helena, Oliva, Horatio, Steve, you, I let everyone down."

"And you don't deserve a chance to redeem yourself ever?" That makes you put your drink down again, and actually hold his gaze across the table. "I can't decide for you, Javi. I never thought in all the time I've known you that I actually had a chance at all, so you telling me 'no' is exactly what I expect. But if you want to give whatever this could be a chance, you very literally know where to find me."

“Don’t turn this into me rejecting you.” Javi shakes his head and leans back, folding his arms over his chest. “This is me protecting you.” He insists. “Don’t you see that?”

"I'm not trying to pick another fight." There has already been plenty of that for today. "If forgetting we ever had this conversation is what you want, that's fine. I'll smile pretty and play your fake girlfriend at your cousin's wedding, and I'll get myself out of your hair just as soon as Washington decides what to do with me. Seriously, Javi. It's fine." You've dealt with plenty of heartbreak in your life. Javier Peña won't be the first or the last person to break your heart, but you're a big girl. You'll carry on.

Javi frowns, unhappy with your answer but he can’t blame you. He’s pushing you away. “It’s not smart.” Javi shakes his head. “We’ve been drinking.”

"Fine." Despite the fact that you can feel your heart breaking in your chest, you just shrug and fold your hands in your lap under the table. "The dog takes up the whole bed anyway."

“Muñeca.” Javi murmurs quietly, his dark eyes fixed on you. Sighing softly when you won’t look at him. Hating how much you look like he’s crushing your heart.

****** To say the meal is tense is a bit of an understatement, but you pick up your book for a few hours when you get back to the house and mercifully find that Chucho has had some friends over to play poker tonight so no one is paying much attention to you or to Javi. It's just you and the dogs for a while before you figure it's safe to go to bed, seeing as you haven't seen hide nor hair of Javi since you got home.

The barn has always been a place where Javi has been able to think. The monotony of manual labor helps clear his mind and just work. Even after years away, he knows how to clean out a stall and lay fresh bedding. So the animals are getting it tonight instead of tomorrow morning? What’s a few hours when he can exhaust himself instead of going inside and begging you to let him touch you. To burn off this need that is clawing under the surface and threatening to overwhelm him.

"Looks like it's you and me, bud," you tell MacGyver, placing a kiss between his ears and shutting the bedroom door temporarily so you can put on your pajamas. It takes just a couple of minutes before you pop the door open again and crawl under the covers to give him your undivided attention. Five or ten minutes of devoted petting before shutting your eyes is good for the soul, and maybe tonight you won't end up crying yourself to sleep.

By the time that Javi closes the barn door, it’s late and every muscle in his body aches. Sweaty and needing another shower, he quietly makes his way into the house and into the bathroom. He can’t climb in the bed filthy, that wouldn’t be fair to you. Quickly showering, he wraps a towel around his waist and makes his way to the bedroom.

The dog is snoring soundly but you barely managed to stop the tears when you heard him start up the shower across the hall. With your eyes closed and the blanket pulled up to your chest you hope you look convincingly asleep, just trying not to get into another argument before sleeping.

Pushing the door open, Javi stops, listening to hear if you are still awake. “Muñeca?” He whispers softly. “Are you awake?”

It's better not to answer, you decide quickly. Better to let him think you've already drifted off so he can just settle in and fall asleep. For that matter, maybe pretending will actually help you fall asleep.

He sighs softly, unsure of why he even bothered. You hate him now. Moving over to the dresser, he pulls out a pair of boxers and slides them on. Easing his way into the bed so he doesn’t wake you, he fights for the tiniest piece that he can squeeze onto, pushing the dog over. “I wish you knew how much I love you.” He murmurs after a long moment of staring into the darkness. “How much I want to be with you.”

It's too late to say anything now, but at least you're facing away from him so he can't see that you're tearing up all over again. Of all the men in the world, you had to go and fall in love with an emotionally closed off idiot who talks to you when he thinks you're asleep. And you know for damn sure it's love because you catch yourself thinking it's cute.

“You’re going to be reassigned somewhere else.” Javi whispers. “You’re too good of an agent not to be. And if I’m– if we are together, you won’t take it. You’d give up your career for me. Again. And you’d hate me for it.”

Barely suppressing a sniffle, you squeeze your eyes shut facing the windows and say nothing. You don't move and don't make a sound, listening to him pour his heart out when he thinks you can't hear him.

“Every damn day I want you. Crave you like you’re the purest fucking cocaine that has ever come out of Colombia.” He sighs. “I’m fucking tired of jerking off in the shower, imagining how you would feel, how you would sound. But I can’t touch you and lose you. I can’t, muñeca.”

A tear actually escapes this time, damn him and his sentimentality, but you don't move to wipe it away or even flinch. His confessional is his alone. You're not supposed to be hearing a word of this.

“If it takes you hating me to keep you safe, to keep from hurting you, I’ll do it. I’ll sacrifice my own happiness for you. Anything for you.”

A sob nearly shakes you, and it takes biting your lip to keep still and silent. Thank god for MacGyver, that dog could drown out anyone with the sounds of his sleeping. He's trying to protect you. And as noble as that is, you'd rather have him than safety any day of the week.

He had imagined it would be cathartic to confess this to you. That it would be a weight off his chest, but it’s not. He doesn’t know why, but the hollow ache is still there, the weight pressing down on him. “You asked me why I didn’t tell my family that we were together.” Javi has to add one last thing and then he will bury these feelings. “I wanted to imagine what it was like for a while. Pretend that you are mine. So I could go on without you when you leave.”

Biting your lip, squeezing the pillow, muffling your mouth with your hand, none of it could possibly be enough this time. With those words out of his mouth and the raw sob that wracks through you, the best you can do is hope that he doesn't feel the bed shake - or maybe that he isn't looking at you while he's talking. Otherwise the ruse of being asleep is completely useless at this point.

“Goodnight, muñeca.” Javi whispers again, feeling the dog shake the bed. “I always called you ‘doll’ because you are precious to me.” He closes his eyes and sighs, turning towards the door so he can try to sleep even though he knows he won’t.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanficition #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x female reader #dea reader #past Steve x reader #Narcos #Narcos fanfic #the love is requited they're just idiots #THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED

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lycheedr3ams · 10 months

Text

Death's Angel

Part 6: Escape

royal!fem!reader x executioner!konig

Summary: It's 1554. You're one of the eight daughters of the Austrian royal family, and your parents do everything they can to ensure their kingdom is prosperous and peaceful. No royal court is complete without their hand-picked executioner, one who stands out against the sea of black, faceless bodies that make up the profession. It just so happens that your family's new executioner, one who has made a name for himself far and wide for his skill with the axe, has caught your eye and ruined you for good.

Warnings: MDNI! smut, mutual pining, forbidden love, death (konig is an executioner duh), mean sisters, mentions of medieval-type violence, overbearing parents, konig is brooding and a perv, some predator/prey dynamics, possessive!konig, maybe dark themes bc reader likes seeing him kill people and bc he's a perv?

IMPORTANT NOTE: the taglist is getting too long for me to manage, so this will be the last post that I will have a taglist for. i appreciate all the support!!! just be sure to check my blog for future updates. if you aren't on the taglist but asked to be here, either i missed you or tumblr won't let me @ you also, we are nearing the end! I think this is gonna have 8 parts. thank you for your support!!!!

.......

series inspired by the art below!

konig's promise of taking you away at any moment you asked him weighed on you for weeks. the more you grew attached to him, the harder it was to hide your relations with him. you couldn't exactly go on proper dates in his cold, dark room in the castle basement. he couldn't take you on picnics, take you on carriage rides, or anything that any normal couple would do. you weren't a normal couple. you were a princess, and he an executioner. you two were never supposed to even speak with one another.

the one thing, the one romantic thing that you could do in his room, was dance with him. konig didn't know how to dance. he only knew the dance of an axe over the chopping block and how to sharpen its edges with stone. he was hesitant at first, but loved how close to you he could be. he was quite clumsy, and he'd frequently step on your toes every now and then. but each time he did it, you smiled.

"it's okay, konig. you'll get the hang of it," you'd say as you smiled up at him sweetly. he would quietly nod and furrow his brow in concentration as he danced with you.

his hand would be so gently laid on your waist, and his large hand on your shoulder grounded you and kept you in the moment. it didn't matter what mean thing your sisters had said to you, or the fact that you couldn't care less about your provincial duties. when you were with konig, when he was touching you, you were there, and that was all you knew.

but his hood always remained on. you asked him, once, if you could see his face, and all he answered with was a quiet "no" and you never broached the subject again.

...

"konig," you said to him after you two had danced and then made love. truly, made love. it was so soft, and he pressed so many kisses on your neck and boobs and back. konig always grew a little soft after you two danced.

"ja, liebe?" he asked as he gently stroked your hair.

"do...do you think we could...leave, soon?" you whispered as you gently balled up your fist.

his hand stopped in your hair for a moment, but he quickly resumed his gentle caresses. he breathed deeply. "it's as i said. say the word, and we go."

"i...i want to go soon, konig. i don't know where. just far from here."

"how soon?" he asked.

"next week," you said before he could even finish his question. this had been on your mind for so long. konig changed you, the night he asked what you would do if you weren't a princess. you'd been fantasizing about having your own cottage with him, being able to garden and tend to your animals everyday while he was a blacksmith, maybe, or a mercenary. the cathedral ceilings and polished dinner plates of your castle no longer appealed to you.

konig kept caressing your hair. "and how far?"

you gulped. "could we...leave the country? just go to a neighboring one. right near the border."

konig thought for a moment. "ja, we can. i know of a village just beyond the mountains. you will like it. i will build a house for you."

you smiled against his bare chest. "i'll build it with you, konig."

he shook his head gently as he squeezed you. "nein. i will build a house for you, by myself."

"if you insist," you said as you pressed a gentle kiss to his chest. "a house for us, konig. us."

konig was silent for a little while. you were growing worried, but he finally replied. "a house for us, meine Engel. i will build a house for us."

"i've already begun to stow away some of my savings," you whispered as if you feared the stone walls had ears. "we will be set for life."

"do not worry about that, Engel," konig said confidently. "i will take care of you."

"i know you will," you said gently. "but you'll be giving up your profession for me. i want to repay you in anyway that i can."

"there is no need for that," he said quietly as he held you closer. "you are worth more to me than all the riches in the world."

your heart fluttered as you closed your eyes and relaxed against him. your cheeks grew warm and you smiled.

"i love you, konig," you whispered as if it were the most normal thing in the world to say. once you processed what you just said, your eyes shot open, but your face stayed glued to his chest so that he couldn't see. you held your breath.

"and I love you, meine schatz," he said as he gently pressed a kiss to your head through his hood. you looked up at him with gleaming eyes, and he lifted his hood up slightly to kiss you.

you made love again that night. the words that had lingered in silence for so long had finally been spoken. he put you in missionary, focused entirely on your face as he filled you so gently yet so fully. his hard, smooth cock dragged slowly along your slick walls, and you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you.

"i will do anything for you, Engel," he rasped into your ear as he filled you. "i will take care of you."

"konig!" you moaned. you looked up at him, cock-drunk and in love. "i'm yours. i'm yours." a few tears escaped your eyes.

you kissed him again, and your fate with him was sealed.

...

a few days had passed since that night. the day you and konig were planning to run away was quickly approaching. you had packed a few things in a spare backpack, including the trinkets he gave you through the course of your relationship. you hid the gold entitled to you interspersed through socks and underwear in your backpack. you looked out the window of your bedroom out over the castle grounds, and felt resolved. you were ready to leave this life behind, and just be. with konig.

you got dressed in your room as normal, and made your way down to the banquet hall for breakfast. but when you reached the banquet hall, you found three of your sisters shouting to your parents. your other sisters sat as still as statues at the dining table. all heads turned towards you as you stepped in.

"what's going on?" you asked nervously.

"you harlot!" one of your sisters exclaimed. your mother and father looked like they had seen a ghost. you looked around, and the room was spinning.

"you've been sleeping with the executioner!" another sister yelled as she held up a black executioner's hood. that was one of konig's gifts to you, and you thought it would be kept it safe in your bedside table.

"you went in my room!?" you yelled.

"guards! get the executioner at once!" your father yelled. time began to move slowly. your sisters were screaming, the guards' metal armor clinked and clacked as they ran down to search for the executioner, your mother hugged you tightly in fear. but all you could think, the one thing that managed to keep you grounded in the ensuing chaos, was konig.

you thrashed out of your mother's embrace and ran faster than you ever had in your life to find him. the guards could run, but not as fast as you in their armor. you ran to the only place he would be at this time in the morning.

you burst through the castle doors and ran, panting, up to konig, who was sharpening his axe in the blacksmith's hut. he looked up at you happily at first, but his expression changed when he saw the tears flowing from your eyes.

"konig! konig! they know! they know!" you yelled as you panted. konig looked over you and saw half a dozen guards running towards him with swords drawn.

you looked up at him, your eyes wet and puffy, your dress wrinkled and heels broken.

"come," he said as he picked you up in one motion. you yelped, but held onto him as he ran towards the stables. the alarm bell was ringing in the castle as all guards now saw the executioner running off carrying a princess towards the only escape. your siblings and parents watched from the great porch with horrified expressions.

"i'm so sorry konig," you cried into his shoulder as he ran.

"shh, shh," he soothed between breaths. "i told you i would take care of you, didn't i?"

you nodded and gently squeezed him. you finally reached the stables, which had been unattended momentarily during the chase, and konig threw you on top of the biggest horse before putting on its bridle and getting on in front of you. there was no time to put on a saddle.

"hold on, Engel!" he yelled before smacking the reins against the horse's neck. you held onto his hard, tree-like torso as he kicked the horse with his heels, and it shot off through the stables. the guards that had made it to the stable doors were swept back as your horse sprinted through.

you looked behind and saw that there were now three mounted guards following you. "konig!"

he spurred the horse on faster, but the main castle grounds gate was already closed. "hold on, this will be bumpy!" konig yelled. he sharply turned the horse around and you flew over the castle grounds as he guided the horse towards the hidden exit behind the grounds, past the gardens. the guards' horses were fast, but no match for the bestial horse konig had chosen.

you buried your face in his back as the wind whipped by you and the ground rolled under your feet like waves. the alarm bells sounded louder over the grounds as panic rose, echoing against the stone walls of the castle, and screaming could be heard from servants out in the fields as you passed.

your horse jumped over the hedge at the edge of the grounds, the guards far behind, and you fled with konig through uncharted wilderness with nothing but the clothes on your backs.

taglist: @kneelingshadowsalome, @plumdreadful, @dumb-dumb-idiot-girl, @elichisstuff, @konig-breedme, @tr4psta, @cutiecusp, @konigsleftkidney, @local-vampire-s1ut, @ihaveaproblematicbrain, @twice360noscope, @madzeesstuff, @crazy-phan-girl13, @babygirl-panda19, @warrior-of-justice, @eluffi, @mooniesthings, @elowynnlane, @zaxlrza, @red-bed-bug, @alexdoesntlikeyou, @helmipss, @11aplacesange11, @rouge-swears, @pasta-m1lk, @ghostinvenus

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inmyheadimobsessed · 1 year

Text

Want You Extensively

pairing: shuri ✘ black!fem!reader

summary: you and shuri broke up, and you're trying to get over her (not really). shuri makes it exceedingly hard to do so.

word count: 5024

contains: angst, jealousy, possessive!shuri, slight public smut (18+), fluff, wakanda forever spoilers

divider by: @firefly-graphics

note: please do not ask me any questions about this fic. i won't be able to answer any of them lmaoo. and fear not, there will be a pt. 2 with full on smut. the only reason it's not here is because it was already too long. stay tuned for that! thank you to my mutual who helped with the translations! enjoy <33

translations: sthandwa - my love, mtuwam - my person, ndiyak'thembisa - i promise you

════

part one | part two

Entering Shuri’s lab felt different, like there was a cloud of something looming over and around you as you stepped off the elevator. How many times had you come down here over the years as a means of escape? Just watching her work was enough to help you unwind, usually. You had not been to her lab in months, not since the day she took the heart-shaped herb. She’d never asked you why, and it was something you found yourself appreciating.

As you walked toward her, her quiet little hums to the song playing increased in volume. It made you smile. Griot announced your arrival and she whipped around to catch your eyes, and her own grin grew.

“Hello my love.” She kissed your cheek and you sat in the seat beside her. “It has been a minute since you were last down here, what brings you by?”

Images of that night replayed in your head. It was your first time witnessing Shuri drowning in that much rage, it scared you, but you understood her emotions completely; you understood her actions. Losing your mother in such a violent way, watching her life leave her body before your very eyes was a feeling you knew all too well. Grief was no stranger to you. All consuming vengeance was no stranger to you. So it did not surprise you when she turned to you for support in her plans. Shuri wanted Namor dead, and you were eager to do absolutely anything to help her achieve that.

“I wanted to see you. It feels as though we keep missing each other.”

She shot you a look and huffed a soft chuckle, “So it seems.”

Your brows furrowed at her expression, but you chose not to speak on it. Instead, your attention shifted to what she was doing. It looked like yet another update to her Kimoyo beads, as if they needed more updates. This was not surprising behavior for your girlfriend, Shuri’s excessive desire to improve and enhance was one of the things you loved about her. This need had only increased since losing both her brother and mother.

It was what brought her comfort, and you liked that she had something to pour herself into.

You poked her cheek, wanting her to focus her attention on you, “And what are your plans after you leave the lab for the night?”

Her eyes did not move from the device before her as she spoke, “I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

An awkward silence enveloped the space you were in with her. This is how most days went with the two of you now: prolonged time apart, clipped conversations, not to mention the lack of intimacy. The energy in your relationship was off, it had been for a while. You felt it and so did she, what stung was neither of you putting in effort to fix it.

“I had a chance to speak with Riri earlier. I invited her here for a visit next month.” Shuri continued fiddling with her beads.

You sighed, knowing this would mean more time apart for the two of you. “Are we in a good enough place to be entertaining guests?” Your chest tightened a little when it dawned on you that more time away from Shuri would not bother you as it should. Indifference was a feeling you loathed, and feeling indifferent about your relationship made you ill.

She dropped her tools then, fully taking you in for the first time in far too long. Her eyes were still as striking as you remembered, and you missed being under their gaze. Her face expressed she noted the ambiguity in your question, and she was not fond of it.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Was my question not clear?” Your tone was snippy; irritated, but was that not why you said it that way? So that Shuri would pick up on it?

Her laugh was dry and low, “You have been making many things quite clear recently.”

“I suppose it is my turn to ask you what you mean by that.” But you knew exactly what she meant. You knew her pulling away stemmed from you doing the same, though you were not ready to admit that to her just yet.

The glare she shot you exposed your deepest kept secrets, pulling them all the way out. “Am I to believe you’re not aware of what I mean? Oh sthandwa, you forget I know you best.”

Her tone was deep and dark, it reminded you of the ocean and the newly revealed dangers that lurked beneath it. You could not pull your eyes away from hers, and you could feel the tears tugging on them.

“If there is something you would like to say, my Queen, by all means…”

“If there is something I would like to say? Me?”

You folded your arms across your chest. You did not come down here to pick a fight, truly. But if it was what she wanted then so be it. “Are you not the Queen?”

“Why would you suggest we aren’t in a good place? Is that how you feel about us?”

Your words came out soft and hesitant, “Is that how you think I feel?”

“When was the last time you told me how you felt about anything? I have to watch for subtle hints to gain any insight on your emotions.” Shuri dragged her hands down her face in frustration.

“I did not come here to fight with you Shuri.”

Her eyes bore holes into your face, intense as usual. But now they harbored something different and you couldn’t make it out. Though you knew she was frustrated, you could not help basking in her beauty.

“It does not need to be a fight, but we need to have a conversation. Something isn’t right.”

You bit your lip as you eyed her. Her eyes were softer now. Clearer, more readable, and you sighed. “Nothing is right.”

“I don’t understand.” She tilted her head, genuinely puzzled.

You knew what you were about to say would knock the wind out of her, thinking it sure knocked the wind out of you. “Ever since the fight with Namor and the Talokanils, I realized we were just leading each other down a dangerous path. Your desire to seek vengeance for your mother was just, I know that and I will forever believe that. But I let you sink too deep into it. I could’ve stopped you, but I knew I was actively choosing not to. I knew what it would be like for you, and yet I did nothing.”

“You did not make me do anything, every action was of my own volition.”

You were crying now, feeling your chest constrict. “But I could have stopped you.”

“No. You could not.” Shuri wiped her own tears away as she stepped towards you to grab your hands.

Her fingers around yours centered you a little, but they did nothing to quell the pain in your heart; they did nothing to stop the erratic beating. “I do not think we bring out the best in one another anymore.”

“What are you saying?” Her words were unsteady as she clung to your hands. Shuri’s grip was fierce, her amplified strength adding to the pressure.

“I cannot do this, I’m sorry.” Desperation glazed her eyes over, and seeing it tugged on every muscle in your body, making them tender and sore. You were hurting her. Shuri was already hurting; grieving, and now losing you would just pile on top of that. Bile scratched the back of your throat and you swallowed it back down.

“Please, don't give up on us. It will get better, ndiyak'thembisa.”

You sniffed, scorching tears flowing heavily from your eyes like a dam, “It has been months. If this is what getting better looks like, I want no part in it.”

“We just have to try, my darling.”

“This is not working for me anymore, and you are lying to yourself if you believe it is for you. Shuri, if you can tell me it still feels the same for you, I will stay. I will try harder. Tell me that and have it be the truth, I will stop this.”

“Do not do this.”

“Something has been off with us for longer than either of us were willing to admit. I gave you time, I gave myself time. But I’d sooner realize time was not on our side.” You pulled your hands from between hers, balling them into fists. There was a beat of hesitation — a moment of reluctance as you breathed in the finality hovering above you both. You drank in her saddened features, and you took note of the acceptance there.

Shuri cleared her throat, “I suppose you’re right. We are not the same. I am not the same.”

“You need time to find yourself again Shuri, time to mourn in the way you deserve. I want the world for you, but right now… Right now I do not believe I am the one who can gift that to you, my love.” Your hand cupped her tear stained face and she gripped your wrist. She nodded and nuzzled into your touch as she wept.

You could tell she knew you were right, you’d known how she felt for a while. You pulled her in for a hug, it was tight, and it was long, and it was something each of you needed. You inhaled her scent for the last time, letting it clog all your senses. You wanted it to linger; to last.

Slowly, you let each other go, and you took a lengthy look into those eyes you loved so much.

After a beat, you glanced down at your chest where the pendant she crafted for you sat. “A symbol of my love for you.” She’d said when she clasped it around your neck. You’d never taken it off before, not once, until now. You put the necklace in her hand and closed it. Shuri said nothing, only watched you with bloodshot eyes.

“Take care of yourself, mtuwam.” You kissed her knuckles, then her cheek, and then you were out the way you came with tears clouding your vision.

•••

Waking up in your own bed, alone, was a feeling you were unfamiliar with even three and a half weeks after your break up. And it was not something you saw yourself growing fond of.

You missed having Shuri’s duvet wrapped around you, crafted from the finest threads in all of Wakanda. You longed to be awoken by her lips on your neck, your chest, your stomach. Watching her head descend and disappear under said duvet, mouth eager to perform immoral acts between your thighs as you squirmed above her.

But truthfully speaking, you had been missing that long before you ended things. You just missed her. Seeing her around the city only made your quest to move on harder.

Obviously you’d avoided her; ducking into an alley when you saw her at the market, waiting for her to leave restaurants before you entered. It was pathetic really, but you did not trust your ability to behave normally around her. You knew your strengths; your weaknesses, and the Queen of your country just so happened to be your biggest weakness.

Riri had messaged you a few days ago asking if her invitation was still open, having not heard back from Shuri. She seemed excited to return to Wakanda and you hadn’t the heart to cancel on her. Besides, you did miss her a lot and you could use a distraction from all things Shuri.

“Um, hold up. What do you mean you and Shuri broke up?” Riri had disbelief painted all over her face. She dropped her phone on your bed, making sure she heard you correctly. It was a reaction you were used to getting when telling others, reliving the entire ordeal as you watched the news wash through them. Shock, disbelief, acceptance, sympathy.

The same rollercoaster of emotions you’d experienced yourself, though the acceptance part was still running from you. Everyone you knew expected you and Shuri to last forever. You expected you and Shuri to last forever. But believing in forever was nothing other than a child’s fantasy. Nothing lasted that long. Not love, and certainly not life.

You continued swooping your edges in front of your vanity as you nodded in response. “Yes.”

“Are you okay?” Riri’s tone was genuine and you gave her a half smile in the mirror.

“It’s hard, but I am trying to be. Which is why I am excited to take you out tonight. Nightlife in the city will be like nothing you’ve ever experienced before!”

She hopped off her spot on your bed and headed to the closet, “Yay!”

You decided to take Riri to all of your favorite spots. You guys ate dinner at your favorite restaurant, giving her a chance to try Wakandan cuisine, which she loved. You had ice cream for dessert, and you were now off to one of the most popular clubs in the city.

Stepping into the club sent a rush down your spine. Riri automatically dragged you to the dance floor and soon you were swinging your body to the bass of the song. The beat reverberated through you and through your bosom, sending jolts of thrill this way and that.

Your way too short dress rode up with every pop of your hip, Shuri hated the dress for that very reason. But you did not care, and you made no efforts to pull it down.

To your right, Riri was grinding on an extremely tall girl and looked to be having the time of her life. You grabbed the closest person and threw your arms around their neck and they didn't protest. Their hands snaked around your waist, pressing their front closer to yours. Their cologne was strong and oaky, and you couldn't help the feeling of wanting to bathe in it.

You threw your head back, a joyous giggle flying from within you. Moments like these were rare for you, moments where you just got to let loose, and you tried to soak them up as often as time allowed. The only thing that would make this moment even better was alcohol.

The stranger’s hands roamed your tight blue dress: sliding, slipping, squeezing. Touch starved and needy, you allowed every bit of it. Fingers danced along your butt as you pushed back against them to a new song with your eyes closed.

They leaned down to whisper in your ear then, liquor heavy on their breath, “Are you attempting to get me into trouble?”

“Depends. What sort of trouble do you usually get into?” Your voice coated in seduction. You were unaware you even still remembered how to flirt with people who weren't Shuri. It was strange, but in a good way you supposed.

“Definitely not the kind that would garner attention from the Black Panther herself.” They noted your confusion and pointed across the room.

And there she was, back leaned against the bar, glass of something brown clasped tightly in her fist. In that damned purple tracksuit she knew drove you absolutely insane. Her eyes were shielded by her shades, but you knew they were fixed on you, and on the person who clung to you. Even from this distance you could see the tight twitch in her jaw. She was visibly irritated and failed to hide it.

She barely moved, despite knowing you were watching her. If she insisted on staring, you'd give her the show she so desperately desired.

You spun to face them, grabbing their face in your palms, “Don't give her the attention she's seeking. Just dance with me.”

The two of you were back to being all over each other in no time, but even with your back turned away from her, you could still feel the sting of Shuri’s gaze stalking every move you made. She would not move from the bar because she knew you too well. She knew at some point you would need to get a drink, and she was devious enough to wait it out.

Shuri’s ability to drag situations out, prolong the inevitable, was always something you admired, but it became a bother when it interfered with you getting what you wanted. Especially in the bedroom. Riri seemed to notice Shuri’s arrival and her reaction was vastly different from your own.

“Oh my god. Shuri’s here? Do we say hi? I wanna say hi.” She waved at your ex girlfriend and Shuri lifted her glass in acknowledgement.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed her wrist, leaving the person you were dancing with behind, “We may as well get it over with now. Her highness is very fond of games, but I’m in no mood.” A bit hypocritical, you concluded, seeing as you were just rubbing your ass on someone else’s crotch while she watched. Just add it to the growing list of things you refused to care about on this night. This night was supposed to be fun and Shuri-less, and it certainly was your plan to have it remain that way.

A smirk climbed to her face as you approached the bar, but you ignored it.

“Three shots of whatever is strongest please.” The woman behind the bar nodded and got right on it. You watched out the side of your eye as Riri and Shuri caught up. Soon the two were cracking jokes and laughing. You were fighting a grin as you overheard their conversation. Because Shuri’s laugh was infectious like that. You grabbed the shots placed in front of you and headed to Riri, placing one in her hand.

“Is that other one for me, sthandwa?”

You scoffed at her. Honestly you didn’t know why her being here was annoying you this much. After downing both glasses of the potent liquid, you finally decided to speak to her, “Why are you here?”

“Am I not allowed to be here?” She studied you through her tinted glasses, eyeing you from head to toe. Your long legs were exposed and your dress stopped slightly above mid-thigh. Being under her attentive gaze again was lighting you up on the inside, and you found yourself wanting her to continue.

“And why are you wearing that?”

“I could ask you the same thing. You know how much I despise that dress.” She smirked.

“Some people like me in this dress.” You shot Shuri a winning grin before requesting another drink, something fruity this time.

Her chuckle was low and jeering, “If you are referring to that buffoon you were attempting to tease me with, I’d say I’m disappointed. Whoever that was would not know what to do with you in that thing. Let alone how to get you out of it. It is a hassle.”

Riri cleared her throat as she struggled to hop onto one of the bar stools. Her face tattled on all her inner thoughts, eyes bulging out her head at Shuri’s words. Even you were unsure of how to respond to Shuri.

“How did you know we would be here?” You sipped your drink, tilting your head to eye her. If she was going to dress like that, it was obviously apparent that you would check her out. No doubt she did it for exactly that reason. She looked sexy, but that was not abnormal. You just hadn't had the chance to see her sexiness up close in a very long while. You squeezed your legs together in protest to your body’s reaction.

Shuri pointed to your wrist where your Kimoyo beads sat. “I always know where you are, darling. Even when you are hiding from me.” It had never dawned on you that Shuri might be tracking you. Realization sunk in then. All those times you’d almost run into her she’d known you were near. Knowing she was surveilling you without your permission should make you angry; should, but it only made your innards all the more gooey. Though you were apart, she still kept you close.

You blushed at the thought and that smile you were wrestling with finally won. It was brief, and you caught yourself, and so did Shuri.

“Since when do you repeat outfits?” You deadpanned, wanting this conversation to shift immediately, before you said something you couldn’t take back.

Her little laugh was cute and you rolled your eyes, “Are my clothes a bother to you? I quite like this tracksuit.” She looked down at her attire, then back up at you. Not once did she move from her position against the bar and it bugged you.

“No. I like it.”

“You admit you like it? Riri, did you hear that, eh? I know you heard that.” Riri nodded uncomfortably from her seat, shooting a thumbs up. She was on her third drink, slurping loudly in attempts to block out your conversation with Shuri.

Her boldness was growing infuriating. “I used to like it, is what I meant.”

“You used to like a lot of things about me. Used to love many things. My mind wonders if you still do.” She stepped forward, decreasing the sizable gap between the two of you. The familiar aroma of her perfume pulled you in involuntarily. Shuri looked down at how close your bodies were. Her eyes found yours through her lenses and you scoffed at the expression on her face. She was amused, she found you amusing.

“Why are you doing this?” Your words barely a whisper.

“Because I miss you. I miss all of you.” She took off her sunglasses, letting you catch a glimpse of those gorgeous eyes you missed terribly. They twinkled, even under the low club lights, and they stole your breath away.

You gasped, “Don't.”

She continued despite your protest, “I miss seeing you everyday. I miss kissing you, touching you. I miss making you shout my–”

“Uh uh! I’m out! If y’all need me, I’ma be somewhere that isn’t… here.” Riri scurried off after downing her last shot. Leaving you alone with her Majesty. Wonderful.

The smirk that climbed onto Shuri’s face shook your core. She was too good at this, you were supposed to be moving on. Before she could get her next sentence out, the person you were dancing with appeared, wrapping you in their arms. You giggled into the hold, appreciating the distraction. But when you found Shuri’s eyes, fear for them grew inside you.

You wiggled out of their touch, trying to signal that they should leave. But it was no use. Shuri’s rage was as tangible as ever. Her grin seemed pure to any onlookers, but you knew better. It was murderous and vengeful, and bred only chaos. Shuri grabbed the taller and much larger stranger by the shoulder and they were airborne, crashing into a pool table, splitting it right down the middle.

She stooped to where they landed, “Touching her like that in my presence should mean your death. Luckily for you I am only here to make my girl happy tonight. But, if I even get the slightest inkling that you are near her again, trust I will not be this generous. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes your majesty.” She was on her feet then, turning to you. Seeing her like that was driving unspeakable thoughts straight through your mind. She asked you to dance, and you nodded. Words were not something you could muster at the moment.

She pulled you to the dance floor, positioning herself behind you. Instinctively, you reached for her hand to place them on your hips. Feeling her fingers through the thin material of your skimpy dress kickstarted the thumping in between your thighs. Swaying to the music, Shuri’s lips found your throat. Her teeth grazed your neck and you whimpered. “Would it be inappropriate to ask you how wet you are right now?”

Her question made you dizzy, inebriated you more than any drop of alcohol could. You bit your lip, dragging her hand under your dress to answer her question. Her fingers sat on the outside of your thong for a few beats before she slowly stroked you on top of the fabric. She hissed in your ear. The thumping in your panties shifted to desperate pounding. Shuri was meticulous with her strokes, teasing you all the while. The song changed and the bodies surrounding you kept on dancing, completely oblivious to what you and the Queen were up to.

Her mouth kept sucking on your neck as her fingers hovered over your core.

“Want you.” You hummed and it drove her mad. She slipped her hand under your waistband and her digits circled your hole. She spun you to face her before shoving her way inside you. Your moans were soft and fragile, completely inaudible in the booming club. But Shuri heard them, for they were meant only for her ears. She pumped you slowly at first, then her pace turned ravenous, and you were already at the edge. Having not been touched like this in a while, it did not take much for you to reach your peak. Seconds away from your orgasm, Shuri ripped both fingers from your pussy with a dark grin.

She brought them to her mouth and sucked. Your confused pout only made her grin darker, “While I do miss feeling you and tasting you, you should have thought twice about what parading that fool in front of me would mean for you. You know where to find me when you are ready to apologize.”

You watched her leave the club entirely, followed by a few members of the Dora Milaje. Anger and unfulfillment burned inside you. Damn her. And damn those wonderfully talented fingers of hers.

•••

The next morning you woke up with a pounding headache. You’d stayed at the club longer after Shuri left, wanting to drink her out of your memory. Riri encouraged the behavior, but obviously all attempts failed. After getting ready for the day without waking Riri, you took your Kimoyo beads off, and you were out the door.

Stepping into the lab brought back too many painful memories, but you were here to mend all of that. You had a speech prepared, it was perfectly worded, pauses in all the right spots. But when you saw her, you froze. Your feet forgot what the act of walking was, your lips went numb, mouth dry, and every syllable in your brain jumbled.

When she spotted you, she couldn’t help the hearty laugh that came out of her. She held her stomach and doubled over.

“The last time you were down here you broke my heart. Am I to prepare for a similar interaction?” Her words jarred you as she spoke them. How did she do it? How was she able to remain so witty through all of this?

You exhaled, “Your behavior last night was unacceptable and cruel.”

“Do I need to mention your breaking my heart again?” She pressed her back against her desk and eyed you.

“This is not funny.”

“And yet I’m laughing.” Shuri crossed her arms with a grin. Why was she like this?

You moved toward her and she startled. Good. You were back in control now. “I came here for one thing and one thing only.”

You dragged your finger down her chest, stopping at the little bit of exposed skin below her crop top. Her breath hitched, it was low, but you heard it. It pleased you to be teasing her in the way she teased you last night.

“To issue that apology I requested?” She squeaked. How adorable.

“Nope.”

Her brow quirked, of course she was enjoying this still. “So what then?”

“I want my necklace back.” You exhaled, willing your heartbeat to slow down just a tad. You couldn’t let her win.

“Ah. I see. Well I’m sorry to say, that necklace belongs to my girlfriend. Last I checked, that was not you anymore.” She beamed down at you, but there was hurt simmering there in her gorgeous eyes.

You poked her belly button and she jerked, bringing forth a chuckle from you. “I would like my status switched back, your majesty. If you would so graciously allow it.” You curtseyed and dipped your head.

“I am feeling quite generous today. I might just be able to grant your request, I suppose.”

You had to conceal your squeal because you had more to say. Your blood was rushing in your veins, you could feel every drop move, whooshing past one another at lightning speed. “I know there is more to be discussed between us, but I just want to say this: I love you. Loving you is the easiest thing I have ever chosen to do. Because of course it is, you are easy to love. And I was wrong before, we do bring out the best in each other. You bring out the best in me, and I am sorry. You suggested we try before, I want that. You are all that I want.”

“Are you finished?” You nodded and wiped a lone tear from your face. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Yes.” You barely got the word out before Shuri was tilting your chin and pressing her lips to yours. They connected like puzzle pieces. The sensation flooding through you was the most euphoric. Only Bast knew just how much you missed her. Hunger and greed clawed at your throat as the kiss grew hotter, but it still managed to remain as tender as ever. She pulled away, eyes sparkling like the sun and lighting you all the way up.

“My necklace?” Your eyes were pleading and she ate it up.

Shuri shook her head, “I decide when I will return that. You, my darling, will just have to wait.” Her toothy smile said it all; Shuri was hellbent on torturing you. She wanted to drive you insane beyond repair. And you were going to let her.

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