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bunny-lily · 20 days

Text

Tether Me - Chapter 1

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader

Summary: “Jesus!” You shrieked and jumped with all the elegance of a newborn fawn, spinning on your heel to find a head of blindingly white hair and pearly canines equally as eye-burning greeting you through a wide grin. Though you couldn’t see the man's eyes behind those curiously round shades of his, you could picture how his cheeks crinkled his hidden hues at the corners.

If any of the Greek or Roman gods were real, he’d outshine every one of them without breaking a sweat.

AN: no particular additional warnings for this chapter. I'll add new warnings for any chapters that might require them (for example, nsfw)

Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2 | Ch: 3

WC: 15.3k

Seeing your new…home in the unforgiving glare of daytime made you realize that the realtor spent more time photoshopping the box of danger to make it appear appealing than actually selling it. Gave it to the first poor buyer that bit the bait and dashed off.

Said poor buyer was you. Apparently.

A rickety bamboo fence, chipped and scratched by god knows what, wrapped loosely around your property, the pathetic poles clinging to life by threads about as strong as spider silk. Quite the sad barrier. Honestly, you had no idea how it managed to remain upright this long at all.

The description on the site you found it on was very, very vague with anything regarding the building. Even with your prodding, the most you generally got was “well, nobody died in it, and it’s still standing.”

Good enough for you, clearly, considering you slapped the Sold! sign on the damn listing yourself maybe 30 minutes and a glass of wine (or three) after finding the soggy, depressing shack.

Granny was right. This thing was a damn mess. It should have been condemned ages ago.

You couldn’t decide if it was bigger or smaller than you expected. Somewhat disproportionate was the best way you could put it. The terrain surrounding it was much more expansive than the photos showed, the boundaries only sort of marked out by the aforementioned sad barrier. It was considerably isolated, which you weren’t really complaining about, but you noted way too late that taking care of all that overgrown grass was going to be a nightmare on your back. Arms, too. Every part of your body, honestly.

The building itself had certainly seen better days, such as the day it was built, and perhaps the day after, if you were being generous. The agent was very shifty about exact details, but in his defense, this place was basically in the Bumfuck Middle of Nowhere, Japan, in likely one of the smallest countryside villages there was in the whole country.

You were also substantially intoxicated and ready to put down your life savings on anything.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to go that far, but you truly underestimated the scope of this ‘project’. The entire plot needed a fresh splash of paint at minimum. Ideally, you needed to shear the lawn of all those super pretty weeds that you were very tempted to just leave as is because they were so pretty, mhm, would be an absolute shame to get rid of them.

You’d need to clear out the stone path leading from the fence gate to your front door that you quite literally stumbled over last night. Or just toss the stones altogether, because fuck those things and whoever put them there.

The outer walls needed a good scrubbing, and another, and one more for good measure. Quite a few shingles on the roof showed signs of being ready to split your skull open with only a wayward breeze needed to push them off the edge. The hinges creaked horribly on every part of the building, enough so that you were certain the entire village would’ve been awoken by you tripping over yourself to get into the house had you not been a decent 10 or so minute walk from the closest cottage.

And all of this was just what was outside.

That fence, ugly little shit that it was, was either going to become your worst nightmare, or a begrudging friend.

You noted with mild interest that your house resembled western abodes more than Japanese ones.

Maybe if you kept the place rundown, people wouldn’t think to stop by your place unannounced. Ah, what a delight that would be. If you were lucky, nobody knew the property had been sold yet. If you were extra lucky, you could get your shopping done (plus whatever other errands you couldn’t do from home) by keeping your head down, and none would be the wiser to your existence.

Aside from Granny, of course. Kinda hard to hide from that woman now that she’d given you food off her own back. You needed to do something in return, but you set that on the back burner for now.

The interior required basically everything to be fixed up, that was non-negotiable. You refused to sleep on crusty wood floors and old tatami that had long since been glued to the surface beneath with gods know what. At the very least, you needed to somehow clean the floor. Preferably, mend the walls, plug any holes, get the pipes functioning if they weren’t already, and a whole other fuckin’ list of soul crushing deeds that needed completion.

Furniture, while questionably not a necessity for survival, was definitely a need for you. If only so you had something to sleep on other than the basically flat, nylon bag laid out in the corner of the room you gracelessly snored within.

But how?

You planted your hands on your hips and exhaled through your nose. “I wonder if Amazon ships to this place…”

A pipe dream, certainly; but, gods, would it make your life so much easier.

You could try to build your own furniture, but you trusted running with scissors more than you trusted your own potential handiwork. Which meant repairing the house itself on your own was likely a very bad idea.

“Ah, fuck,” you hissed as you realized the other shit you’d need to do aside from creating an actual proper space to live. “I’ll have to learn how to sew and garden and fucking carpent and everything…”

You groaned as you pictured every task that awaited you, and subsequently buried your face in your hands. Maybe you should have just torn the whole fucking thing down, bought a plastic shed from the nearest city, dragged it over, set it up, and called it home sweet home. You didn’t need that much space anyway, right?

“No, can’t regret this now, too late to regret this, you chose this,” your voice was muffled and grit out through clenched teeth. “Made your bed, now sleep in it, idiot.”

“Yeah, kinda dumb choice, if you ask me.”

An unexpected voice originated from behind you, startling the living daylights out of you and shooting your heart straight out of your body.

“Jesus!” You shrieked and jumped with all the elegance of a newborn fawn, spinning on your heel to find a head of blindingly white hair and pearly canines equally as eye-burning greeting you via a wide grin. Though you couldn’t see the man's eyes behind those curiously round shades of his, you could picture how his cheeks crinkled his hidden hues at the corners.

If any of the Greek or Roman gods were real, he’d outshine every one of them without breaking a sweat.

The warming late-spring wind grazed through the fluffy locks of his hair like the delicate touch of a lover’s hands, weaving through the fine strands and carrying his scent to you.

Mixed with the heat of the approaching humid season, you caught faint hints of sweetness, with an underlying minty tone and something you couldn't name. He was too far away for you to pinpoint the exact fragrance, but you had no intention of just skipping right over and shoving your nose against the junction of his neck to get a better whiff.

Or maybe his chest? The way he was slouching made it difficult to gauge his height, but you had a feeling he was a great deal taller than you, and the stout slope you stood on would do you virtually no favors.

The shiver that went up your spine at the thought was promptly ignored.

“Not quite,” the unfairly gorgeous stranger replied with a snicker from where he leaned against the fence, arms slotted between the bamboo sticks. How it held him up without crumbling into dust was a miracle in itself. “But I’m flattered.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you placed your hand against your chest, trying to will the wretched thing to calm down. Handling adrenaline was not your forte, much less from a scare like this. With your eyes narrowed, and only partially because of the accursed brilliance that was coming summer, you glared at the man. He was far too relaxed and cocky for your liking, still sporting that goofy grin that had you feeling things you didn’t want to address now.

Or ever.

“Who are you?” You queried.

“I should be asking you that, pretty girl.”

Your nose wrinkled incredulously. “Pretty girl?”

He chose to overlook your objection, instead nodding towards your house. “Never thought I’d get to witness this shithole get bought by anyone, let alone someone like you. Thought it’d get torn down sooner than have a hundred yen tossed towards it.”

Your eyes rolled. Hard. He wasn’t wrong, it was a shithole, but now it was your shithole. The less reminders about its miserable state of existence you had, the better. “Gee, thanks.”

“No problem.”

Completely against your will, you snorted. He was going to be a wonderful source of entertainment, or he was going to be a thorn in your side, just like the sickly sticks under his arms. The jury was still out on it.

You stared at one another for a few seconds that dragged on too long before you raised a brow. “Weeeell…?” You drew out the word.

His head cocked to the side. “Well?”

“Your name. You never told me who you are.” You knew it was polite to introduce yourself first, but fuck that, he scared the hell out of you. The responsibility was on him.

“Oh, right,” he straightened up, then bent forward with one hand to his chest and the other outstretched sideways in an extravagant bow. “Gojo Satoru, the very one and only. What about you, sweetheart?”

Pet names aside, there was a debate in your mind, an argument between whether you should give the admittedly attractive stranger your real name, or create one on the spot. You had done the latter in your later months of running all over your home country like a chicken without a head under the stupid belief that it'd further separate you from the anxieties clinging to your shins.

You were paranoid. That was easy enough to decipher.

Your conscience had spawned this nerve wracking idea that those you ghosted – from scorned lovers who scarcely got further than kissing you, to the jobs and employers you abandoned suddenly – were after you.

It left you constantly scanning your 6 from over your shoulder with the fear that they’d come chasing you down, eager to dig their claws into your paper-kite flesh and permanently force you down. You could visualize them tearing through your wings, winding layers of rope around your throat and knotting the dangling strings so tightly that not even the sharpest blade could break through the binds, much less let you breathe. So, you frequently lied about your identity as much as you could.

You inhaled slowly through your teeth, not enough to whistle, but enough to ground you. You were on the complete other side of the world, far away from those who would care to snarl and bare their fangs at your heels as they ran faster than you could – if there were any who desired to at all. You were somewhere new, somewhere unfamiliar, a place where nobody knew you, or could possibly know you by any means.

You told not a soul about where you’d gone. You never did. Like ash in the wind, you disappeared faster than anyone could blink, any memory of smoldering embers long forgotten.

Maybe…maybe you were safe to at least slip forth some truth about yourself.

Like most things you did nowadays, you told him your real name on a whim, and hoped it wouldn’t come back to bite you in the ass.

He hummed as he repeated it to you, as if testing it on his tongue, dipping in for a small taste. Then, that stunning grin returned, and your heart fluttered behind your ribs.

You stubbornly stamped your heel down onto it. You didn’t know why it decided to start acting up, but you were not going to entertain it.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he cooed. “What brought you here of all places? So rich you’re bored? Fell for a scam? One of those girly things?”

You scoffed.

“Or maybe you’re running from something.”

The blood in your veins froze over in an instant, your body going rigid as you stared at him. He…he couldn’t have known, right? The way he stated it, rather than asked – like he knew – had you struggling to swallow, to so much as twitch your fingers. There was no way. You– you were nobody, a blank slate, an outsider–

His head cocked to the side playfully, and the spell he had cast on you withered away as quickly as it came.

Finally able to breathe again, you vented out the air you unknowingly held and turned your face slightly away, hoping he didn’t catch your slip-up. “One of those girly things,” you settled, to which he nodded eagerly, as if you just confirmed the existence of a theory of his that ‘girly things’ were real.

Not that he was wholly wrong, technically, as you did have ‘one of those girly things’ urges from time to time. The desire to cut or dye your hair, pick up a new name, rearrange your room, or hop on a plane to the furthest fucking location you could imagine.

“Why’d you choose this…thing then?” Gojo jerked his chin towards the shabby hut.

“It was cheap,” you answered simply.

He bobbed his head in acknowledgement. “Where are you staying?”

Your eyelashes fluttered as you blinked at him, your brow knitting. “...Here?”

“...Here.”

“Here.”

There was a brief pause, then he burst into laughter, his arms hugging his stomach. “Oh, god,” he wheezed. Personally, you couldn’t find what was so funny about the situation. “You serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

His finger slipped under the right lens of his glasses, presumably to wipe a tear away as he worked on calming himself down. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Fire flared in your veins as opposed to ice this time. “Hey!”

“I mean, seriously, who in their right mind would stay inside that thing?”

Your lip curled over your teeth in a snarl. “Oi–”

He bulldozed right along, completely ignoring you. “There’s gotta be, like, ghosts in there. Or a shit ton of spiders. Lots of spiders, actually.”

That got your attention. A shudder shot up your back and you squealed in fright, shaking off your hands to rid yourself of the phantom feeling of creepy crawlies on your skin. “Spiders?”

The milky-headed male nodded staidly. “Tons. And, y’know, the other obvious health hazards. I bet there’s asbestos in those walls.”

You opened your mouth to argue that your house had only been abandoned for 20 years, and that asbestos had been cut out of usage some 40 odd years ago, until you remembered that 1) asbestos didn’t immediately go out of use when the dangers were revealed, and 2) you house was abandoned 20 years ago, not built 20 years ago. Who knows how old it actually was?

Given its appearance…

He must’ve seen the panic on your face, because he gave you a piercing smile, an expression you very swiftly understood was one of scheming. “You should come stay with me.”

The world halted around you for the seconds it took your mind to process what he said. “...Hah?”

“I said, you should come stay with me,” Satoru shrugged nonchalantly. “I have spare guest rooms.”

“I– you– stay with– what?”

The grimace he gave your house could only be described as ‘execrating’. “I mean, come on, you’re not really thinking of staying there, are you? You’ll be sending yourself to an early grave like that, you’re too cute to die so soon. Just come stay at my place.”

Was he a murderer?

Your brain finally caught up with a click and you scowled. “Oh, yeah, that’s super safe,” you responded sardonically. “New girl in a new town full of total strangers with who-knows-what motives, lemme just go stay with the first guy that invites me to his home.”

“Come onnnn, you can trust me,” he whined, pouting.

“I literally just met you.”

The ease with which he gave up gave you whiplash, having expected him to keep pushing. “Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “Hey, did you know that your backdoor doesn’t have a lock?”

You paled.

Definitely something a murderer would say.

Your head whipped to gawp at your dwelling with wide eyes, a full on war raging through your head now.

On one hand, yes, he was a complete and total stranger. A hot one, but still an unknown entity who could just be buttering you up. Maybe the reason the house had been abandoned for so long was because anytime a new owner came in, they got snatched up by the handsome boy who invited them just like he invited you, never to be seen again.

He could have been lying about the lock – though it honestly didn’t matter, someone could probably just break through a wall if they pushed hard enough on it.

On the other hand, if he was telling the truth (how did he know that? Why?), he was the only person you knew even a little in this itty bitty isolated village (Granny doesn’t count). Anyone could go through that door at night and there you would be, wrapped up in your shitty, thin sleeping bag, prime kidnapping material. You basically did all the hard work by tying your own limbs right up yourself, easiest catch of the century.

At the very least, you knew Gojo’s name and face. Granted, the first item there was debatable, but he didn’t seem like the type to lie about his name – boast about it, more like. You’d be already acquainted with your would-be assailant, so it’d be nice to know the face of your kidnapper-slash-torturer-slash-killer, if only so you could punch a picture of it over and over in your afterlife, wherever death may take you.

You shifted your gaze to him and crossed an apprehensive arm over your chest, propping your elbow up on it while you pinched your chin in consideration.

There he was, the sly rat, wearing that dumb (cute) (no) grin of his as always, patiently awaiting your answer as if he already knew it. Nothing about him seemed inherently dangerous on the surface, but don’t they say serial killers are charming and charismatic people? He was a bit energetic for a murderer, though.

You weighed your options carefully. You could spend another horrid night in your house with the knowledge that there were likely insects everywhere, and possibly even asbestos in the walls, and who knows what else. You’d have to brush your teeth by using your water tumbler again, and…oh, fuck, you hadn’t even thought about the bathroom yet. How were you going to shower? Wash your face? Do your business?

Then there was your poor excuse of a bed, more plastic than anything even remotely comfy. Same with the pillow, you might as well have been sleeping on the bare ass floor. Your neck ached at the thought. Then there was your food issue, your clothes, your devices…

You sighed.

“What’s the catch?” You questioned reluctantly.

He merely raised his hands in a shrug. “No catch.”

That was way too easy, but the prospect of an actual bed and a tidy (hopefully) homestead was too good to pass up, serial killer owner be damned.

Future you was just getting more and more tasks thrown at her, such as your new objective being to find an inn to live in while you figured out your home issues. And getting a job to afford said inn. But that was for way later, when you weren’t losing your goddamned mind.

“...Fine,” you surrendered. Like a pussy. Weak.

“Yippee!” Satoru cheered, somehow smiling wider. “Good girl, knew ya had a brain somewhere up there.”

Your stomach flip-flopped at the simultaneous praise and insult, confusing your head with emotions (and hormones) that you did not want to unpack. Cheeks reddening rapidly, you hissed at him through a tight jaw, shooing away the kindling something that pooled in your tummy. “You–”

“C’mon,” he interrupted you before you could even start, already turning to leave as he waved his hand over his shoulder, “I’ll show ya the way. Ain’t far from here.”

Flustered, you stuttered indignantly, watching him walk away. You shook your head in defeat and jogged to catch up to him, needing to speed walk to match his ridiculously long strides. “Oi, slow down! You’re too damn tall!”

“You’re just short,” he argued, his hands interlocking as they rested against the back of his head. “Pipsqueak.”

You gasped in offense as if you weren’t at tiddy-sucking height. “I am not a pipsqueak!”

“You totally are,” he purred, treating you like you were some sort of adorable pet. “I bet I could pick you up and throw you if I wanted.”

An unwitting laugh bubbled out of you, and for some reason, you decided to play this frivolous game of his. “I’d like to see you try.”

You immediately regretted it as he reached out for you with a shit-eating expression of absolute delight, making you yelp and race off ahead of him, screeching as he chased right after you.

“Wait, no, don’t!” Your voice rang clear, fright mixed with childlike thrill spreading to your limbs as you scurried down the open road. “I was kidding!”

“Get back here!”

The wind blew past your ears, tangled into your hair, followed the curves of your body as you darted about alongside it. You let it guide you, toy with the fabric of your shirt, cup your face with cool hands. You breathed deeply, and you flew, untethered and free and so overwhelmed.

Somewhere above, beyond the boundless and endless cerulean, a star flickered.

You screamed when you felt his hands pinch your waist, catching Satoru’s devilish gleam as he passed you, and suddenly, you were the one chasing him. He cackled as you tried to catch up to him, taunting you all the way.

Curse his long legs.

You wondered how he managed to keep talking so cleanly and easily while you were struggling to maintain your breath and gait.

All those years of metaphorical running, sadly, did not translate into actual, physical running. Air stung your throat, and you only faintly recognized that you were running after him through the village, more focused on keeping that head of ivory tresses in sight.

Yet, somehow, contrary to how concentrated you were on that task, he managed to slip from your view when he turned a sharp corner and seemingly passed through an invisible barrier of some kind. He had to, because when you turned that same corner just seconds later, he was nowhere to be found.

Slowing your sprint into a trot, then stopping altogether, you bowed over and planted one hand on your knee while the other clutched your side.

“Oh, god,” you groaned, your body aching in several places, both internal and external. “I almost regret skipping gym in school.”

Peeking up through your hair to check around, every part of the street you were on seemed innocuous, normal, without any obvious hiding spots Satoru might have jumped into.

The vertically dominant fucker.

Cautiously, you marched forward, breathing heavily as you took slow steps. The game of cat and mouse had turned into hide-and-seek, and the sucker chose not to warn you. Granted, you would have done the exact same thing, but it was within your right to bitch about it, you were at several disadvantages.

The first alley was clear of anything, even objects. Nothing more than a small gap between two buildings, you doubted he would’ve managed to squeeze in there given how giant he was. Plus, where would he have gone even if he did wiggle into it?

The next alley was the same story. There was more space, but very little within said space, only a couple crates that were too small to hide him. Again, giant.

Everything, you belatedly realized, was completely uncharted territory to you. You should have listened to Granny and explored the village first. But, if you had, maybe you wouldn’t have a real bed to sleep in tonight. Presumably. You were putting too much faith into Gojo being genuine about the bed – and not being a serial killer – otherwise you were sleeping outside.

“Bastard.” The pain in your hip subsided and you righted yourself, inspecting every direction for any indication of white hair. It would be significantly difficult to hide that feature in an area like this, where pretty much everything had a neutral-dark colored theme, and most people had black or brunette hair.

You wondered why he was towheaded. A question for another day.

He was a magician, or trickster, you ruled, rather than acknowledging the fact that he knew this town far better than you did and likely would for a while to come.

Grumbles passed through your lips as you stood akimbo, squinting at everything skeptically. “Where the hell–”

“Boo!”

You swear your soul ascended. You could picture the trail it left behind as it rose into the heavens, pulling with it a choked croak of terror from you. The sound could hardly be considered a shout, you resembled a frog more than you did a goat in the screaming department.

Demented cackling erupted behind you as you leapt forward and clutched your chest, swinging around to glower at the boy in utter disbelief. Twice now he had done this. Twice! Beside yourself, you rushed over towards him and smacked his arm repeatedly, which only fueled his laughter. “Dick!”

“Fuck!” Satoru heaved, reaching his whistle register. “Priceless! Oh, my god, you should have seen your face.”

“I’m gonna kill you!” The threat was far less menacing than you wanted when your own voice was as squeaky as his.

By the time he calmed down, you were both panting – you out of chagrin (and for the sake of your poor heart), and him to get precious oxygen back to his smooth brain.

“I’m serious about that, by the way,” you pouted at him. “I’m gonna kill you for scaring me. Again.”

He beamed at you and reached to pat your head, but was intercepted by your hand, only to dodge around it and manage to get a few head pats in anyway. “Sure you will, sweets.”

You growled and stomped a few steps away, stopped, then whirled back around when you remembered you had no idea where you were going. He simply crossed his arms over his chest and scrutinized you with that stupid, supercilious visage.

“Go on,” he encouraged eagerly. “Ask.”

The inside of your cheek was going to be sore from how much you were chewing it. You were at an impasse; let him win, or try to find his place on your own. With no idea what it looked like. Or what direction to even go.

You imagined you’d have better luck wearing a blindfold if you tried the latter option. Either way, he was going to win, you could acknowledge that. Conceding and requesting his continued guidance meant handing over his victory on a silver platter, or he’d get some decent entertainment out of watching you try to figure out where the hell he lived.

Gods, you were regretting moving here already.

“Show me how to get to your house,” you mumbled.

The tall freak fake-cooed at you. “Aww, come on, you can do better than that.”

If glouting could kill, you would be slow-roasting him over a grill. In the meekest voice you could manage, you muttered, “please.”

“Hmmm?” He canted closer towards you. “Didn’t quite catch that.”

You could feel your sanity draining like sand in an hourglass. Just to get it over with, you spoke properly. “Please show me how to get to your house.”

The jubilant grin he gave you had you reconsidering that blindfold idea you had. “Better! Good girl, come along, now.”

Oh, your insides could just melt.

No, you argued with yourself as you trailed behind him, reluctantly obedient. You are not getting horny over that, you sad sack of potatoes. You’re just pent up. A pretty boy calls you a good girl and you’re a sobbing mess under your pants.

Pathetic.

He whistled a sharp tune as he lazily led you, weaving around the architecture in such a way that you knew you never would have found the damn place on your own – or find your way back, for that matter. He was doing this on purpose to get you confused just to fuck with you, you knew it.

You were placing a lot of stock in him not being a murderer.

“Keep up, shortie,” he waved his fingers over his shoulder. “We’re almost there.”

Taking a (albeit mild) hike up a road traveling up the mountainside was not something you expected nor planned for. Now you were lamenting skipping gym. Not that participating more in exercise over a decade ago would help you currently, but at least you’d be able to believe you were stronger than this.

Satoru watched you with no small amount of amusement as you finally caught up to his still figure, lips curved. “Man, you suck at this.”

“I didn’t exactly study hiking in school,” you grumbled, closing your eyes and breathing deep.

“I’d hardly call a walk ‘hiking’,” he commented, and you wimpishly smacked his arm. “We gotta work on your stamina.”

You could hear the smirk and underlying innuendo without needing to see his stupid, handsome face.

“In your dreams, pretty boy,” you muttered.

“How do you know what I dream about?”

Your eyes popped open to glare at the man as he fluttered his lashes and pressed his fingers to his chest. “You’re a menace,” you scowled, ignoring his faux ‘innocence’ in favor of looking ahead.

And getting the wind utterly knocked out of you.

This grandiose mansion was where he lived?

Balking, you stared up at his house from beneath the arch of the moon gate in front of it, taking in the sheer magnitude and extravagance of it, even from just the outside. A variety of leafy trees, well trimmed bushes, and aromatic flowers decorated it in precise symmetry, each individual blade of grass nipped to preeminence.

There was a garden off to the left, freshly tended to and beautiful with a pond in the center. You couldn’t see what was in it, but you wouldn’t be surprised if koi fish were there as well.

A partially shaded gazebo stood on the other side, right next to a gentle creek that trickled leisurely. A stone table sat in the center, and you could imagine drinking tea in the early morning there, when the sun would hit it at the right angle to warm you up.

The aesthetic was prizewinning; a wonderful, skillful mix between traditional and modern, all incorporated into a house you thought could only exist in one of those style magazines.

How long had it been here? How had it been built so extravagantly? How much did it cost?

All these painfully curious questions, yet, the first thing you thought to say when you opened your mouth…

“You said it was nearby,” you pouted. “This is the other side of town.”

“Eh?” He glanced down at you. “Doesn’t seem that far to me.”

Your index finger flicked the outside of his thigh. “That’s because you’re a walking tree.”

Gojo slapped his thigh in the same spot, beaming at you. “These are good for a lot of things.”

“I’m sure,” the unamused deadpan you gave him had him snickering.

That shit-eating grin was back and he waggled his brows. “I could show you.”

“Pass,” you rolled your eyes, addressing his house instead. “Why is your house so far away from the village? Up the whole ass mountain and everything.”

He shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Dunno. It was built here a long time ago. Obviously upgraded over the years, duh, but if I had to guess, it’s because of the hot spring. The rest of the village just built lower down the path for convenience, or they were intimidated by the Gojo name.”

“Hot spring?” You furrowed your brow.

Nonchalant as always, he nodded. “Yeah, there’s a natural hot spring in the backyard.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say you have a hot spring in your backyard?”

Being the rich boy that he was, he cocked his head to the side and spared you an inquisitive peek, as if to say ‘you don’t have one?’ “Yeah? You wanna see?”

“Uh, yes?” You gawked shamelessly.

Satoru grinned and beckoned for you to follow, and you skipped right along behind him, barely managing to remind yourself to hurriedly take off your shoes at the door. You had to force yourself to be careful and line them up neatly. You also used this chance to eye the obviously rich-people footwear. You wouldn’t hesitate to bet that one pair alone was worth more than one of your kidneys.

All worries of him being a potential monster dashed out the window as you let him lead you through the winding halls to a shoji door near the back of his house – you had to guess, you were not paying attention at all. You were too focused on the expensive decor and feeling way out of place.

The scenery that greeted you as soon as the door slid open had you stopping dead in your tracks in shere awe.

He hadn’t been lying, there really was a hot spring in his backyard. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care about his smug expression, mindlessly allowing him to gently push you forward with a hand to the small of your back.

“Close your mouth, you’ll start drooling,” he teased.

Your jaw clicked shut and you shot him a half-hearted glare before your attention returned to the pool of steaming water ahead of you.

The entire area was gorgeous, honestly. Round stone circles created a path along gravel from the engawa to the basin, which was surrounded mostly by rocks with plants growing between cracks and around the base here and there. Massive pines encompassed the entire area, giving you the sensation of safety and protection.

A trail on the side led somewhere else, winding between mounds of perfectly maintained green terra, though that was of insignificant interest to you at the moment.

An instruction was murmured against the shell of your ear, and you wordlessly and thoughtlessly obeyed. “Look up.”

“...Oh.”

High above, between the gaps in the trees, you had a prime view of the sky, spanning across the ring the forest created, deep and wondrous and so…clear. The brightest blue you had ever seen. If the moon got caught just right, exactly in the middle, you believed magic would happen.

The towering pines kept the area shaded and pleasantly cool, and you were swept away by the urge to sink into the hot spring and let everything else fade away.

When you lowered your chin to look at him, you found he was already gazing at you, his grin softened to a small upturn of his lips at the corners. He was just so…divine. Moonflower hair framed his face, cottony and fluffy, and though you couldn’t see his eyes clearly through the indigo tint of his shades, you could feel them. They were piercing, capable of seeing right through your skin and witnessing your heart beating as it stuttered and struggled to regain its footing.

The way he studied you felt so familiar.

An intense watch, pinned directly on you, making the hairs on your nape stand.

You yearned to see his hues without the barrier his dark, round glasses provided, and you wondered if they could rival those of the sky, or the gods’.

“Whatcha think?” He asked silkenly as he leaned forward and tilted his head to be closer to you.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured in response without really thinking, the words flowing out of you without your conscious action. “It’s like a dream.”

You weren’t sure if you meant the eden you were brought to, or the heavenly being beside you. Either way, he smiled radiantly at you and nudged your shoulder lightly with his own.

“Wanna touch it?”

Your lashes fluttered as you tried to come back to yourself and not let your mind wander to places you could not reach. “The hot spring?”

“Mhmm.”

It took a considerable amount of effort to tear your eyes off of him and set them back on the cirque of water hidden beneath mist. Like a siren’s song, you slipped on the outdoor slippers nearby and stepped off the engawa, pacing along the stone path. It was smoother, flush with the terrain, unlike the haphazardous placements of the ones you had at your own home.

The pool was milky, tinted with a rich, capri shade, reminding you instantly of a lagoon, or a salt flat mirroring the zion above that went on as far as the eye could see. A miniscule waterfall trickled placidly from the highest outcropping, following the narrow and shallow path it had carved for itself over countless years.

You resisted the urge to cup it in your hands and drink it like sacred nectar.

At the edge, you knelt down and skimmed the tips of your fingers across the water’s surface. Goosebumps broke out across your arm and you shuddered inadvertently. Heat spread over your palm as steam coiled around you, surrounding you partially in a cocoon of warmth. The temperature bordered on the line between too hot and not enough finely, urging you to crawl beneath the water’s cusp and embrace the cradle of coziness.

“Good, isn’t it?” Gojo startled you as he spoke from where he knelt down next to you. He seemed to be proficient at scaring the shit out of you. This close, you could detect his attar clearly, and the last part of his unique fragrance finally fell into place.

Lemon.

He smelled like sweet lemons and mint.

“Yeah–” you squeaked, and cleared your throat to try again. “Yeah, it’s really nice. Like…perfect, actually.”

He snickered and dipped his hand into the diaphanous liquid, bringing it back up to splash it onto your arm. With a cry of mock offense, you splashed him right back, cracking up as you managed to get a decent scoop into his mouth.

You didn’t know what it was about him. Rightfully, you’d only been aware of each other for less than two hours, but it felt like you’d known him your whole life. The banter flowed easily, the games you hadn’t played since you were so young that you could only vaguely remember, the way he spoke to you, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

No heavy feelings sat on your chest, creaking the brittle bars of your ribcage, filling you with an innate sense of dread and desire to flee and never stop for a second. Nothing of the sort crossed your mind. No rock weighed in the pit of your stomach, no widow’s voice murmured in your ear.

It was just you and him, in a bubble of time where nothing and everything mattered all at once. Every breath you took was meaningless, yet held the weight of the world. Every twitch of his fingers could rest even the weariest souls, or rend the sky apart should he ever care to.

But he didn’t, and neither did you.

This pocket-sized domain of serenity you found yourself in brought forth dormant feelings of ease and comfort.

They didn’t feel like a mask painted on to cover the blooming, spreading bruises under your skin and behind your solar plexus. They didn’t feel like a temporary setup to sate your mind until the panic overwhelmed you all over again.

Rather, they composed a nest of the finest blankets you’d ever touched, let alone slept within. You wanted to crawl in and close your eyes and hibernate, sleep as life passed you by. You wanted to live in this moment forever.

The shoulder of his shirt grew damp where he rubbed his curled lips against it. “Kitty’s got claws, huh?”

“Fangs, too,” your nose scrunched up as you gave him a sly, Cheshire cat smile. “I’ll let you kill me if you let me use your hot spring first.”

“Deal.”

You snorted. “Not even gonna dispute it, huh?”

“I’m assuming the ‘kill’ part is optional here.”

“I won’t push my luck then,” you accepted as you stood up, shaking any excess moisture off your hand. Upon remembering Granny, you pulled out your phone from your purse, tsking at the 47% charge level in the top right corner, then glanced at the time. Midday.

Satoru peeped over your shoulder after he rose up. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“Time,” you replied, shooing him away to stop him from being nosy. Not that you really had anything worth hiding.

Most of the pictures on your phone were photos you’d taken of the outside world during your trips, random things that meant something at the time you snapped the pic, but meant absolutely zip now, or blurry images of animals that refused to stay still for you.

“Granny wanted me to explore the town to get more familiar with it, then stop by for lunch,” your phone locked with a click as you stuffed it back in your bag and continued your explanation.

He whistled. “Adopted by Granny, and on your first day, too? That’s impressive, means you’re special.”

“Eh?” Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Why? She seems like she’d be a nice person to everyone.”

He chuckled as you both headed back into his house. “Granny’s a prickly lady. Don’t get me wrong, she cares about everyone in the village,” he reassured you as he let you step in first and slid the door shut behind him, “but mostly in a ‘I-will-throw-my-shoe-at-you’ kind of way.”

“Huh,” that didn’t sound too far off from Granny, given what you knew, but you had also only met her that morning. “She gave me free food and told me she’ll have a list of handymen when I go back today.”

“Wow. She won’t even let me steal a candy bar from her store, and I’ve known her my whole life. Must mean you’re really special.”

“There’s a difference between buying and stealing, Gojo,” pausing in your steps, you frowned as contemplation came over you. “...Do you think she thinks I’m incompetent?”

“Probably.”

“Gojo!” You hissed at his lackadaisical response.

His hands raised in surrender. “Kidding, kidding! I think it just means she likes you. C’mon, I’ll show you around town.”

Following his actions, you tugged your shoes on while you thought aloud. “I didn’t even do anything. Walked around her store like an idiot and nearly ran into her.”

You stepped out of the house behind him, waiting for his response. You had expected him to laugh and indeed confirm that you were an idiot (which would be twice that day, if you were keeping proper track), or come up with another quip to taunt you with, but he was quiet, pondering something.

“You have this…aura about you,” he eventually responded. “You’re different.”

“In what way?” You approached the topic carefully, wondering if that was a good or bad thing.

His shoulders lifted and dropped. “Dunno, I’m not good with words. You’re just different. You’re easy to like.”

The incline down from his house back to the village was easier than going up it, a slow slope that followed a mild curve. The road was smooth, free of cars. Those you had seen were parked along the streets below, and not often used from what you could tell. The walk gave you time to consider his words.

You’d heard them before, but nobody ever clarified how you differed from others. He said you were likable, so you chose to believe he meant it in a good way. You’d try to pry more information out of him at some point to sate your cautious curiosity.

“How long have you been here?” You asked instead to change the topic, then winced, remembering that he mentioned his family had been here for a long time.

“Eh,” he tilted his hand side to side a few times. “Maybe 15 or so years, including my baby years.”

Oh. Turns out you were…wrong?

“You weren’t born here?”

“No, I was,” he corrected. Ah, so you were. “I just spent a few school years in Tokyo before returning not too long ago.” Sort of.

“Oh, I see,” mindlessly, you took his hand when he offered it to help you step over a gap at the bottom of the hill. His palm radiated warmth, one you missed when he pulled away and continued leading you along. “Why’d you come back?”

“Missed home.” Your gaze met his when he shot you a glance from over his shoulder. “What about you, sweets? Where'd ya come from?” Upon your answer, he nodded. “Came a long way to get here, huh?”

It’s probably best if I don’t tell him why I came here. Not yet. Not ever. “You could say that,” you responded, stopping when he did. You were grateful that he didn’t push the topic.

He pointed towards something, and you angled forward to see around his body, listening carefully as he explained what was where as he guided you through the winding streets.

“Doctor lives there,” you raised a brow at the full body shudder he experienced. “She can get scary when she’s mad. Otherwise, chill person.”

“Noted.”

While you were curious about the doctor of this village, you had no intention of meeting her by ending up in her clinic after doing something moronic, like tripping on those stupid stones outside your front door. Or walking in purely to introduce yourself. That’d be weird.

As he pointed out various family homes, stores, and miscellaneous locations, he listed off names you definitely weren't going to remember anytime soon. You found it endearing that he knew everyone and shared some tidbits of gossip with you – “Auntie Furiko lives there and she totally has a grudge against Mirio-san for stealing her man.” – and he even imparted some knowledge about a few historical places and things in the village, such as the bridge over the river having been built some 400-odd years ago.

“It was originally built as a passage that only allowed humans through,” he explained. “Back then, cursed spirits were a common thing, so the founders here created a path that had a sort of invisible wall that cursed spirits and objects couldn't get through. Like a curtain.”

“Huh,” you responded plainly as you examined the bridge. “Couldn't the spirits just go through the river?”

His candytuft hair fluffed as he shook his head. “The veil goes around the entire village, the bridge was just there for convenience's sake,” he cocked his head towards you. “But those are just legends and stories. There's plenty of tales about jujutsu sorcerers that could see the cursed spirits and eradicate them. Some people still believe cursed spirits and sorcerers are a thing, and blame disasters, like earthquakes and tsunamis, on them.”

You raised a curious expression. “Do you believe in that?”

Satoru shrugged. “To me, it’s like believing in ghosts or demons. Even if they are real, there's no way they'd beat me,” of course, he said that last bit with full-bodied, unadulterated confidence. “I'm the best.”

A fond snort escaped you. An egomaniac as a new friend(?), that seemed exactly like the kind of trouble you'd get yourself into.

Your eyes shifted over to peer at the Wayo Kenchiko edifice situated higher up, reminding you of the wonder you felt when you first saw it.

You turned fully towards it and tugged on Gojo’s shirt to draw his attention to it as well, your interest taking precedence as you regarded it. “Hey, what’s that?”

“Hm?” He followed your line of sight. “The temple?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s technically a shrine,” he clarified. “It was built when the settlers first got here, dedicated to the wolves of the mountains.”

You squinted at him. “Wolves?”

He nodded eagerly. You never would have guessed him to be somewhat of a history buff. “Yep. Wolves are like…guardian dogs. They’re long gone now, but way back then, it's said they hunted alongside the settlers. Wolves are seen as messengers for mountain gods, so people would pray to them for safety, good hunts, and good harvests.”

You nodded as you followed along. “So you guys primarily farm here, then?”

“More or less. Though we do get a lot of imported stuff from the neighboring city, like the things in Granny’s store. We do mostly exports there. It’s where a lot of the people in this village work.”

“Really?” You frowned slightly. “Isn’t that city, like…an hour or so from here?”

He acceded and tilted his head to the side. “Yeah, why?”

“Just seems like a far way to go for work.”

Gojo shrugged as he started walking again, leading you further into town. “Keeps our village alive and well. We gotta keep up with the times, ya know?”

“Suppose so,” you acquiesced. “What do you guys farm here?”

“Ehh, rice and soya, I think,” the teasing twist of his lips had you preemptively rolling your eyes. “Surprised you didn’t know that, girlie; moving to a new place you know nothing about seems risky.”

“I didn’t exactly spend my time digging into the dirt of every single person here, y’know.”

He snickered. “I have dirt on everyone. You want some gossip?”

You huffed. “I’d rather meet someone first before you air their dirty laundry to me. I wanna have an unbiased palate.”

“Oh, so you want to meet the people in this lil’ valley of ours?”

“No,” you replied automatically, then pressed your lips tightly together at your minor flub. “I meant– it’s not– I’m just not–”

His boisterous laughter cut you off, simultaneously making your eye twitch and relief flood you.

“Relax, pretty girl,” he patted your head and you scowled. “I’m just teasin’ ya.”

“I’m seriously going to kill you.”

“Cute,” he crooned, and you groaned.

By the time you two walked up to your kind-of-not-really-grandmother’s shop, you were starting to become familiar with this particular section of road. From here, you knew how to get ‘home’, something you were dreading a touch. You weren’t looking forward to seeing the catastrophe that awaited you.

“And this is where I leave you for now,” he stopped with you in front of the store.

You frowned minutely, an uncomfortable pang of disappointment settling in your chest. “You’re not coming in?”

“Nah,” Gojo shook his head. “Got stuff I need to do. I’ll have someone pick you up from your house later, once you get your stuff. Gimme your phone for a sec.”

Your brows knitted together as you pulled out your phone and unlocked it for him. His fingers grazed yours as you passed the device, causing you to shiver at the temperature difference. They were so warm – or maybe your hands were cold. The touch lingered on your skin, your mind clinging to the tiny wisp of sensation.

The screen of your phone coming back into your line of sight brought you back from mildly zoning out. Almost uncertain, you took it back from him and peered at the screen to see what he did.

You snorted.

He set up his own contact in your address book, making it extra flashy and everything, too. ✨❤️Satoru❤️✨ graced your sight, and you couldn’t help but feel like that wasn’t the first time he had done this, the flamboyant clown.

“There,” he grinned. “Text me when you’ve got your stuff from your place.”

Stuffing the device back into your purse, your moue returned. “You want me to bring my shit to your house?”

His brow raised in response. “Uh, yeah? Were you just gonna leave it in that drab hut?”

“Well, I just thought I’d get a room at an inn or something tomorrow, so I don’t have to bother you.”

The usually bright expression on Satoru’s face fell somewhat, his voice taking a earnest tone when he said your name. The back of your neck tingled at the chime of your name passing through his lips. “You’re not a bother. Seriously, I have more space than I know what to do with. You can stay at my place as long as you need, I insist.”

His change in demeanor threw you for a loop. There was something lying under the surface of his countenance, hidden under layers of a façade wrapped too tightly around his inner being for you to ever hope to see what was beneath. The switch from goofy to sincere struck you as odd, and while you could have jumped back on the ‘he’s a psycho’ train of thought, his insistence didn’t resemble that of a hunter panicking about losing his prey.

Rather, it stemmed from a genuine offer made out of concern for your wellbeing. Sure, he could have been hiding some intentions (he definitely was), but he did show you the path to his house, convoluted as it was, at least some of its interior, and even the hot spring carved behind it. When you mentioned Granny, he seemed amused, rather than worried, and showed you around these confusing and interesting backwoods.

Thinking about the whole mess you had gotten yourself into, what with buying a house in a province you knew nothing about, and your limited funds, an uneasy heaviness sat in your gut. If he was suggesting an option of solace and shelter while you figured your shit out, you had very few reasons to decline.

A bit too readily, perhaps, you set aside any preconceived notions you had about him being suspicious and nodded. “Alright. Thank you, Gojo.”

“Just Satoru is fine,” that smug visage returned, all earlier signs of sobriety fading as quickly as they came. He turned back towards the way you came from, waving over his shoulder lazily. “See ya later, sweets.”

You spied on him for a while, until he disappeared around a bend, and sighed. Considering everything that happened so far, you surmised you were in way over your head.

The doorbell to Granny’s store pinged a sweet tune as you stepped in, finding the familiar scene nearly untouched from before. The air inside was pleasantly cool compared to outside, encouraging you to relax.

“Granny?” You called out as you stepped further in, glancing down the first aisle. “Are you here?”

“Ah!” The woman you were searching for called out from a separate room, appearing through a door you hadn’t noticed at the back of the store before, carrying a bento box. “Perfect timing, I finished that list for you.”

She beckoned you towards her as she rounded the counter, setting the bento box down on top of it and digging around for something under the tabletop before straightening and holding out a sheet of paper for you to take. Your fingers closed around the yellow notebook sheet and you peered down at the writing.

You silently thanked her for having a neat hand, as you were a tad rusty on your hiragana.

A row of names spanned down the paper, along with numbers next to each one. She had also included their specific occupations, making your life that much easier.

“Those are some folks in this village that can help you out. Unfortunately, most of them work in the city, so I fear you might not be able to fix up your house so soon,” Granny noted solemnly as began untying the beautifully designed furoshiki wrapped around, presumably, your food. “Let me call up a friend to find you a place to stay for the time being.”

“Oh, n-no, it’s fine, Granny!” You raised your hands in front of you. “I actually found somewhere to stay.”

She raised a brow at you. “With whom?”

The nervous laugh you let out was meek and not very reassuring. “I, uh…ran into Gojo Satoru, and he offered to house me. I was gonna find an inn, but…’

A perturbed expression morphed her stern features. “Really? Little Satoru offered to house you?”

Little was a gnarly stretch on her part, considering Satoru easily dwarfed both of you. “Is that bad?”

Granny sighed and shook her head as she finished undoing the cloth. “Not necessarily. He’s a troublemaker, that one, but…well, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him invite someone who isn’t one of his close friends to stay with him before.”

“Huh,” Your lips curled downwards. Were you actually so unique that he treated you differently than others? “He’s a bit…” You fumbled with your words, trying to find the right description. “Dramatic, for lack of a better word, but he showed me around and said he’ll have someone pick me up later.”

Her movements had slowed as she kept her eyes on you while popping open the box, studying you. She grabbed the pair of chopsticks in the lid and held the food towards you, which you took without fuss and with a quick ‘thank you’. The length of silence was beginning to unsettle you, so you tried to cover it by taking a bite of the katsu she prepared for you.

And maybe groaning tacitly because, fuck, was it good. Astounding, otherworldly, you would bet easy money that no 5-star restaurant could compare to Granny’s cooking.

Eventually, she spoke again, albeit puzzling you. “It’s no wonder you caught their attention. You are a beautiful, bright young woman.”

Your chopsticks hovered mid-bite. “‘Their’?”

“Mhmm,” the older lady nodded and tsked fondly as she grabbed a hand towel and wiped down a portion of the already spotless surface under her hands. “There’s two of them.”

A pin could drop in the room and it’d be deafening with the silence created by your shock. “There’s two Gojo’s?”

Her amusement turned into full blown laughter. “No, but there might as well be.” she corrected herself. “Those two are stick at the hip–”

The jingle of the bell over the door and the call of someone cut her off. You turned to watch as an attractive woman with mid-length brunette hair stepped into the room, carrying a box in her arms. Were all the people in this town contemptuously stunning? “Granny, I got the–” she stopped promptly upon seeing you. “You’re new.”

You nodded and your pseudo-grandmother introduced you.

“I see,” the brown-haired girl said with a nod. “Well, nice to meet you. I’m Ieiri Shoko, your local doctor and mortician. Just call me Shoko.”

So, this was the doc– wait, what?

Your eyes widened. “...Mortician?”

“Correct,” Shoko grunted as she dropped the hefty box on the floor with a grunt. “Which means you shouldn’t do something stupid or piss me off unless you want to end up in my morgue.”

Now you had two reasons to fear her, counting Satoru’s warning. “Duly noted.”

Your gaze followed her as she reposed against the nearby wall, crossing her arms over her chest. “When’d you get in?”

“Last night.”

“Helluva place to settle,” she commented. “What brought you here of all options?”

Settle.

I’m not so sure about that.

You chewed another piece of katsu and swallowed before answering. “Population. I’m not a very big people-person.”

A smile lifted her lips and she exhaled through her nose. “You and me both, girl. If you wanna be as far away from mass civilization as possible, this is the best place to be. Second only to going nomad and living in a forest alone like a witch.”

She sighed wistfully, and you had the sneaking suspicion that part of her yearned for that kind of lifestyle. “Looks like you’ve thought about it before.”

“I have, but this town is full of idiots that need me, or they would have died a long time ago.”

“Shoko, be nice,” Granny scolded half-heartedly, though you could spot the amusement in her eyes.

“What? I’m not wrong,” Shoko averred as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

Just as she went to open it, Granny swatted her hands and gave her a scathing glare. “Not inside, Shoko. Really, go outside, at least.”

The doctor/mortician grumbled as she stuffed the box back where it came from, giving Granny a weak stink eye. “Anyways, welcome to this miniature province of ours, girl.”

“Thanks.”

“Mm,” she acknowledged, then began a lecture. “Avoid the west trail that goes past the village boundary and up the mountain. Nothing bad there, just has this weird smell to it. Probably haunted by some shit,” Shoko informed you. “Also muddy half the year. Grandma Ai can and will talk your ear off if you stop for more than a second. Good luck getting away from her if she ever catches you.”

You munched slowly as you listened to her advice intently. In any of the cities you stopped by, there weren’t really any communities – not like this, anyway – so you were fascinated by the dynamics these people displayed.

Yes, you were wary, sure, but learning about the town’s intricately interwoven families and neighbors didn’t mean you were getting close to anyone. If anything, it meant you could avoid attachments.

…Right?

Yes. Right.

“–Wednesday is trash collection day, but you might have to bring your trash closer into town if you’re too far out. Oh, and don’t go to the park on Thursday nights–”

You blinked yourself back into full awareness. Your safe haven the park was off limits now? “Wait, why?”

She humbled you with a deadpan that had you straightening your back, imploring you to obey. “Aoi and her boyfriend like to fuck there on Thursday nights.”

“Tch,” Granny clicked her tongue, glaring at Shoko. “Don’t be so crass. We have a guest.”

“Ah, don’t worry,” you waved off her concern. “I don’t mind. I appreciate the forewarning. Besides,” your lips curled into a playful smirk aimed towards Shoko, “I like when people are straightforward.”

She returned the grin with a sly one of her own. “You and I are gonna get along well.”

Similarly to Satoru, speaking to Shoko was easy. It felt like you were reconnecting with old friends – friends you knew when you were unfledged and barely remember anything about, but the link was there.

She nodded as your conversation concluded and pushed herself off the wall, evidently needing to return to where she came from. “Well, if you need me, you know where to– ah, wait, you don’t.”

Shoko patted down her body, presumably in search of her phone or a notepad, but you reassured her hastily. “No, it’s fine! I do, Gojo showed me around earlier.”

Her head whipped up so quickly, you worried she might have snapped it when you heard it crack. “Oh, god, you already met that idiot?”

The short laugh you let out was undignified. “Yep. He’s very noticeable.”

“You can say that again,” she grumbled. “Please don’t tell me he did something dumb and embarrassed himself, or weirded you out. Don’t pay attention to him, he’s just like that.”

“Well, he said I could stay at his place since the house I got is in…less than favorable condition.”

She stilled on the spot, her brows slowly coming together in a visage of utter confusion. “...What? He said you could stay with him?”

“Is he a murderer?” You questioned, only half joking. “I knew it.”

“No, no, he’s not, he’s just…” She turned her gaze to Granny. “Did you know about this?”

“I’m as surprised as you are,” Granny responded.

Your tummy shifted uneasily. “Is…that a bad thing?” You knew Granny said it wasn’t earlier, but you had to ask again.

“No, not really…” Shoko was not easing your nerves whatsoever. “Just unusual.”

“How come?”

She pulled her lips to the side in consideration. “Gojo Satoru is someone who…likes to hide things.”

“Oh, so he is a murderer.”

She demurred at your conclusion. “Last I checked, no. Regardless, he can be kind of a dick sometimes, so don’t take any of his more outlandish shit to heart, yeah?”

You bobbed your head loosely, your mind already off creating heinous conspiracy theories about your benefactor. “Yeah. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Mm, it’s no problem,” she approached you and held out her hand. “Gimme your phone, I’ll give you my number. You can text me if he tries to pull some shit with you.”

Getting a strong sense of déjà vu, you handed her your phone and watched as she punched in her number, then called her phone to get your number as well. Yours was back in your hands in record time, contact set to just her name.

“There. I gotta head off for now, it was nice to meet you, girl,” Shoko waved to you and Granny as she disappeared through the door.

Soft huffing from behind you had you peek at the woman. “What?”

“It’s nothing,” Granny appeased. “Just seems you’ve had an eventful first day here, no?”

“No kidding,” you mumbled, pouting when you saw that you had finished your food. She took the empty box from you, pleased by it being practically licked spotless. “Thank you, it was really delicious.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed your meal,” she nodded. She must have put a lot of effort into it.

A thought occurred to you then. “Granny, do you know where I could possibly get a job?”

She raised a brow at you. “You want to work?”

“Well, yeah,” you scratched your cheek. “I’d try to find a job online, or the city, but I don’t really know what kind of work I can get with the first option, and I don’t have a car or anything for the second one.”

Her fingers cupped her chin in consideration. “How about you work here?”

“In your store?”

“Yes,” Wait, that easily? “I could always use more hands here. I’m getting up there in age, and my hands ache often. You’d be helping me a lot.”

“Are you sure…?” You gave her a concerned mien, subconsciously flicking your eyes down to her hands. “I don’t wanna take from you more than I already have.”

Granny merely brushed away your worries. “Nonsense. I could use the company, too.”

Okay, now you were starting to get suspicious. Things were lining up too well.

Well, you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, but considered keeping your guard up.

“Alright,” you agreed, if somewhat hesitant. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Granny’s expression was heartwarming. “Wonderful! How about you take a week or so to settle in, then you can come start when you’re ready?”

“Well, I can start sooner. If you need the help anyway.”

“How about a few days?”

Stubborn old lady, you loved her already. “Fine, a few days,” you conceded, soughing. “Thanks again for the food, Granny. And for the job. I should probably get my stuff from my place and bring it to Gojo’s. You’ll be okay?”

“Don’t worry about me, dear,” she shooed you away with her fingers. “Go on, now. I’ll see you soon.”

The warm air raised goosebumps up your arms as it swept over you upon leaving. It smelled distinctly sweet, a natural fragrance you quickly became fond of, enjoying it wholly during your walk back home. It had been shorter this time, the transition from defined road to coarse, packed dirt closer to town than you remembered it being.

What you were not fond of was your house, however. Your spite towards those stepping stones leading to the door growing worse as you avoided tripping over them again. The stench upon opening the front door also blew you back, making your entire face scrunch up.

“Why did I do this to myself,” you grumbled as you cynically walked in. Daylight made your perception so much worse. Every flaw was practically highlighted in bright, blaring white.

You mulled over convincing Satoru to just let you live with him and forget this damn thing ever existed to begin with.

Discovering your luggage where you left it, you cringed. It just kept getting worse. The floor was sticky everywhere. With what? Who knows. Did you want to know? Abso-fucking-lutely not. It took you less than a fraction of a second to decide to abandon your sleeping bag where it was.

Like hell were you going to peel it off the tacky wood, let alone use it again. Not like you needed to if you had somewhere to stay anyway, right?

Since when did you become such a wastrel?

Ugh.

With a shake of your head, you rescued your suitcase and luggage bag, letting them feel the same fresh air you could. It was the little things in life that made you so grateful for this pristine oxygen. And the bigger things in life that made you extra grateful, like Gojo Satoru and his stupidly large house.

Bless him for giving you the opportunity to sleep in an actual bed, rather than suffering in the outdoors. Him being a sneaky skunk notwithstanding.

Welp, here goes nothing. You tapped his contact, then the bubble under it. You were just going to assume he knew who was texting him.

This is the start of your conversation with ✨❤️Satoru❤️✨.

You, 16:24

Got my stuff

Alright, now you just wai–

✨❤️Satoru❤️✨, 16:24

(＾▽＾)

give it 10

The fuck.

Emoticon aside, the instant reply caught you off guard. Didn’t he say he had things to do? The day was just full of wonders, huh?

Ten minutes went by fast when you pulled up some random bad fanfiction to scroll through mindlessly. Your attention was drawn away from the half-written mess when a black sedan rolled up in front of your property, and you whistled low.

Why the hell was a rich boy like Satoru living in the sticks and not in some penthouse in the middle of Tokyo?

A spindly figure climbed out and bowed at you politely, hands clasped together in front of him. His voice was wispy, light and reserved. “Pleasure to meet you, miss. My name is Ijichi Kiyotaka, Gojo-san requested I bring you to his residence.”

Ah, he seemed so nervous. Poor guy.

You nodded, choosing not to comment on it. You were intimate with the feeling and didn’t like others pointing it out, you figured he wouldn’t, either. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

He shook his head as he popped the trunk and helped you tuck away your luggage. “It’s no trouble at all. Though, admittedly, it is nice to not have to drive far out this time.”

“Oh?” You questioned as he opened the back door for you and oh, my, were those leather seats? The car was lavish both inside and out, and probably cost more than you and your shoddy lil’ shack combined. You waited until he got into the driver’s seat, taking the extra few seconds to admire the car that you definitely should not have been in as it was clearly too high class for you, before continuing. “Do you usually have to drive to the city?”

“Yes,” Ijichi confirmed, starting up the car with a smooth purr that you barely heard. Leave it to the wealthy to find the best of the best in any category, uncaring of prices. “I’m normally just a chauffeur for the Gojo household.”

You bobbed your head in understanding, peering out of the tinted window to watch everything move by. The traditional architecture was beautiful, something you admired. It made your house stick out a bit like a sore thumb, considering the more western design; you pondered why it was built like that.

The twisting road leading up the mountainside began and ended all too soon, the whole trip lasting less than 5 minutes total, your destination completed with Ijichi parking outside of the mansion.

Ever the gentleman (though, he might have been resolute in helping you with your belongings directly due to fear of some kind of punishment looming over his head), he took your things and led you into the house. “This way, please. I’ve already set up your room for you.”

“Oh, thank you,” you murmured, taking this chance to gawk at everything more properly. Frankly, it smelled rich inside, you didn’t want to think about how expensive even just the vase on the coffee table was.

The sliding of a door signaled your journey’s end. Ijichi bowed and ushered you inside first, though you kind of wished he went in before you, because you were positively floored and most definitely seemed like an idiot with your jaw hanging open. What the fuck? Satoru said this was a spare room? You were expecting maybe, oh, I don’t know, normal guest room things?

Not the epitome of a deluxe hotel for fuck’s sake. The room was at least twice the size of the one you slept in yesterday, the bed was glamorous (queen size, too, Christ), the bedding laid so nicely that you debated sleeping on the ground a second time, just to avoid messing it up. Especially because the fluffy rug at the foot of the frame was so downy, you wanted to drown in it.

There’s no way this was real. Someone had to have been playing a joke on you. You spun to watch Ijichi as he carefully set your suitcase and bag against the wall by the door, waiting for him to rip the proverbial, and likely not fluffy, rug from under your feet.

Instead, he bowed once more, eyes closed. “Should you need anything, you may call for me. The restroom and bathroom are on the right when you exit. Please, feel free to bathe, if you wish. Make yourself at home. Gojo-san is out right now, but will be back by evening.”

You barely stuttered out a semi-coherent thank-you as he left, sliding the door shut behind him and leaving you in this splendor.

Surely this was a joke. You dreaded the inevitable turn, expected the door to open to a cackling Gojo Satoru as he wheezed his lungs out and pulled some ‘I can’t believe you fell for it!’ bullshit.

But it didn’t happen.

For however long you stood there, staring holes through the closed entrance, nobody came to reveal this was all an elaborate joke, with you playing the unsuspecting and dumb victim. You laggardly let out the breath you had been holding and poked around the room with cautious hope. It really was spectacular, but you truly wondered how long Gojo would let you stay here.

By the gods, you were tired of thinking, though, and a shower would be heavenly. You could worry about everything after you were scrubbed dirt-free.

…Assuming you wouldn’t get jumped in the shower instead of the bedroom.

“You’re being paranoid,” you scolded yourself under your breath as you opened your suitcase to grab a change of clothes. But, really, could anyone blame you? You were sure someone else would have felt the exact same way you did.

Unless they were a professional freeloader or something.

Your soap and tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner were so sad compared to everything else around you. You should have checked if Granny’s store had any bath products.

The bathroom was just as luxurious and fully stocked as everything else in this damn estate. Dark, rich wood encompassed the room; a sink was to your left with a sparkling mirror above it, an open shower to your right towards the back, and the chef-d’œuvre of it all: the sunken bathtub at the end. A frosted glass window was situated behind it, shades partially lowered to allow natural light in through the bottom.

Fuck, you were so out of your depth.

But were you going to deny enjoying such riches at least once in your life? Hell no.

You turned to set your stuff down on the counter space by the sink, glancing towards the row of very expensive bottles of different types of cleansers lined up against the wall, and the note in front of them.

Grasping it, you saw it had your name on it, written by hand. You flipped it over to see the short message left behind.

These are yours, use them as you please

~Satoru ♥

Ohoho, fancy products you could only ever scowl at forlornly at the store whenever you saw them, fantasizing about using them, though ultimately being shunned by the price tag? Fuck feeling apprehensive, you were damn well going to use those and indulge in feeling and smelling like a queen.

You’d never stripped faster in your life. You barely had half a mind to fold your clothes somewhat neatly and set them on the counter, rather than scattering them all across the floor as you stumbled out of your socks and hopped to the shower on one foot.

Even the millions of knobs and stall-less design couldn’t deter your avidity, each one subjected to random twisting until you figured it out.

As soon as the bottles were on the recessed shelf under the showerhead, you loped under the hot water and groaned, planting your forehead against the cool wall whilst it poured down your back. You practically turned into putty, all your sore and tense muscles unwinding noticeably. The shower pointed out exactly how sleeping on the floor in your own house jacked up every part of your body, because ow.

You honestly believed you could stand there forever, reluctant to leave, but that bathtub was calling to you.

So you grabbed the body wash first and flipped it over to read the label.

Oatmeal and almonds. Mmmh sweet fuck, you could dissolve into a puddle. It smelled heavenly, and you were giddy out of your skin knowing you were about to smell like that, too. It felt so silky-smooth on your palm, the perfume automatically coating you as you rubbed it in and savored the sensation. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to go back to normal, poor-person soap without lamenting the loss of this.

You can’t miss what you don’t know, and boy were you going to miss this if you had to leave it behind. Satoru did say it was yours to use and keep, though, didn’t he? Maybe you could yoink them when your place was all fixed up and you had to leave.

Suds coated your body in a thick layer of iridescent, white bubbles, flowing down the planes and curves of your figure with the water, rinsing every bit of your body to superb asepsis. Your hair had never known such extravagance when your fingers glided right through your locks, leaving them soft and addicting to touch. You understood now how Satoru’s was that fluffy.

You wanted to touch his hair, too.

Shaking your head to shoo away any very wholesome thoughts, you squeezed the excess water from your hair and turned off the shower, shivering at the sudden chill now that the perpetually toasty mist wasn’t surrounding you anymore.

Careful to avoid slipping, you tip-toed over to the tub and knelt down beside it, reaching for the handles. Hot water burst forth from the tap, rushing to fill the basin, and you noted how deep it was, contemplating if your knees would peek out from the surface if you sat with them bent. You had to be extra vigilant to prevent falling asleep in it and drowning.

You could drown after you got to take a dip in the hot spring in the backyard. Of course, you’d prefer not having to drown at all, but if you had to choose, you’d opt for the hot spring.

Daydreams of swimming in it played behind your eyes as you sank into the tub with a delighted sigh. What tranquility, lucking out like this. You didn’t know what god to thank, if any, but you’d happily grovel on your hands and knees to show your immense gratitude. Just getting a chance to live (well, bathe) in splendor for a single day was enough to fulfill some innate, deep desire you had inside.

Now that you had a moment away from the hectic day, you let yourself recount everything that happened, and question how the hell you got here.

Not 24 hours ago, you had arrived, a poor fool that nearly kicked the bucket on your own front porch, and since then, you were sort of adopted by a grandmother that fed you instead of throwing her shoe at you, met an eccentric, wealthy man who took after a deity ripped straight from mythos, and landed yourself not only a place to stay, but a place with said deity.

“What the hell…” You mumbled to yourself as you lowered yourself until only your eyes remained above the water, blowing bubbles.

How did you get here?

Was this some sort of punishment? Give you a taste of the blest, then wrench it away from you? Karmic cruel and unusual castigation?

You grumbled underwater and lifted your head back up to breathe. Of course, you couldn’t help being paranoid, all of this was way too good to be true. Like some sort of game show–

Oh, god–

You sat up pin-straight and covered your chest, scanning the bathroom ceiling and walls for any hidden cameras. You scoured every surface, squinting extra hard to spot potential blinking lights or unusually-reflective circles.

Nada.

You went boneless, lounging against the back of the tub as you exhaled heavily.

You had probably been in the bath too long. Your fingers were starting to get pruny, and your brain all jumbled up with anxiety and skepticism.

Sluggishly, you pulled yourself out and dried off while the tub drained, pulling on your clean clothes with a relieved hum. You couldn’t remember the last time you treated yourself like this, if ever.

You heard someone speaking from beyond the hallway, so after dropping off your old clothes in your room, you ventured out through the living room, where you found none other than your savior, chatting away with someone on the phone. He turned to you and instantly lit up.

“Ha-hey!” Satoru grinned and waved you over after quickly ending his call, laughing through his greeting. “You got here safe?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, moving to sit beside him at the kitchen island. “Ijichi-san is good at his job.”

The towheaded boy snickered. “Good, or else I would have flicked his forehead.”

“So, you’re the reason he looks so anxious all the time,” you scolded him, then apologized. “Sorry, by the way. I didn’t mean to drag you out of your conversation.”

“Bah,” he brushed it off. “No big deal, wasn’t anything important. So, settling in okay? Seems you already got familiar with the soaps ‘n’ stuff I got you, yeah?”

You nodded eagerly, lifting your arm to sniff at your wrist. “They smell so good, where did you get them?”

He planted his chin on his palm. “Nowhere you can afford.”

Your eyes narrowed into a sharp, unamused glare. “Wow, thanks.”

His cheeks crinkled his hues, and you realized he was still wearing his shades indoors. The glare of the sun no longer turned them into mirrors, allowing you to partially see through them, but the deep ocean hue of the lenses prevented you from deciphering the exact color of his irises.

What an abnormal choice of glasses. You knew people wore circular shades – they made them for a reason – but all the people you’d seen wearing them could never pull off the style.

Satoru was different, though. They suited him flawlessly; refined and dignified, yet boyish at the same time, just like the bearer.

“Let me know when you run out,” he said. “I’ll get you more.”

You jolted in surprise. “Oh! No, no, it’s fine! I’d feel bad using them all up, I don’t want to imagine the price tag…”

He pouted at you. “Why? You saw the note I left you, didn’t you? They’re yours, I got them specifically so you could use them.”

You worried your bottom lip. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t do anything I’m not sure of.”

Well, that’s all you needed to concede. “Alright. Thank you, I like them a lot.”

His moue instantly turned into a brilliant, cheek-aching smile. “I’m glad! Had me worried I picked the wrong stuff.”

His giddiness was contagious, making you giggle. “No! Not at all, I’m just– I’ve never seen the brand before.” It being a Japanese brand notwithstanding.

“Well, duh,” he rolled his eyes as he hopped off his stool and sauntered over to the fridge. “They don’t sell this kind of stuff in normal stores.”

“Where’d you get them from, then?”

“Made Ijichi fetch ‘em.”

You sighed heavily. “Poor guy. You work him to the bone, don’t you?”

He humphed as he withdrew something from the fridge – bento boxes, you recognized. He placed one down in front of you, and took his spot at the island back. “He’s fine. Gets paid well. It’s not like I make him go to the city for every little whim I have.”

You huffed as you pulled off the lid to your box, your mouth instantly salivating at the food within. You barely had the conscious thought left to clap your hands and murmur ‘itadakimasu’, as well as mentally slap yourself when you recalled that you had forgotten to do the same with Granny.

You were able to restrain the moan of delight this time, unlike in front of the old lady, but damn was it hard to.

“Fuck…”

Gojo cackled beside you. “It’s good, I know.”

“Who made this?” You questioned, hand covering your mouth as you chewed. Ijichi must have been a good chef, too.

The man gave you a cocky smirk. “I did.”

…Hah?

You regarded him flatly, disbelieving. “Funny.”

“I’m serious!” He glowered. “Is it so hard to believe I can cook?”

“A little,” you confessed around a bite of sausage. “Rich boys don’t usually know how to cook.”

His gaze pierced directly through you, brooding as he stuffed his mouth. “I’m never gonna cook for you again, just for that.”

Oh, so he was gonna do that?

Hm, might as well play along.

You set down your chopsticks and turned to face him, slapping your hands together as you lowered your head to beseech his mercy. “Please, O’ Honored One, Gojo Satoru-sama! Forgive this witch her foolish words!”

He lifted his chin, judging you through his round shades with the pretense of a king adjudicating his subject’s worth. A few seconds passed before he nodded in approval. “Better. You’re forgiven.”

“Yay,” you laughed, immediately going back to eating. “It is really good though, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he responded, virtually inhaling his serving – not that you were any better.

“Where’d you learn how to cook?”

He swallowed and paused, speaking a fraction softer. “My mom taught me.”

Maybe a touchy subject. You noted it as something to not approach, instead choosing to compliment them both. “She taught you well.”

The boxes were empty in the blink of an eye, and you were both saying ‘gochisousama’ with a satisfying puff.

He grabbed the chopsticks and both boxes, placing them in the sink and filling them with water. “So you did research Japan a bit, eh? Knowing our customs.”

“I believe it comes with the territory of learning the language, yes,” you hopped off the stool, reclining against the counter. You winced minutely when your spine popped.

“How long have you been speaking Japanese?”

“Ehh,” you tilted your hand diagonally a few times. “I learned it a while back. I was studying abroad at the time. Didn’t really know it’d come in handy now, though.”

He dried off his hands with the hand towel nearby and cocked his head to the side. “Oh? You weren’t planning to move here?”

“Not…really,” you shrugged and rubbed the back of your neck. You had to tip-toe this line of conversation carefully.

He grinned, leaning forward to meet your gaze head-on as if he had just hit some sort of jackpot. “So you are running from something after all.” Fuck. “Well? What is it? Mafia?” No. “Loan sharks?” No. “Robbed somethin’ big?” No. “Exes?”

…Sort of.

“Let’s go with exes.”

“You’re quite the mysterious woman,” he chuckled low, voice taking on an evil little rasp. “Makes me wanna open you up.”

You batted your eyes, your brain lagging as your cheeks heated up because what the fuck, real men weren’t supposed to be this hot, and you were not supposed to be this asthenic in the knees just because he had a handsome face and an absurdly attractive voice that decided to say the most deviant shit.

“And you’re a terrible, terrible man, Gojo Satoru,” you admonished to cover your nonplussed emotions.

“Mhm, mhm,” he nodded in complete agreement. “I’m a terrible, terrible man that decided to take you in out of the goodness of my heart.”

You sighed. “You’re going to use that against me, aren’t you.”

“Absolutely, I’m never letting you live this down.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, earning yourself a smirk hidden poorly behind an offended scoff. An oddly domestic sentiment perched in your center, just beneath your breastbone. A decent meal and the slow end to an intense day had you yawning behind the back of your hand.

He yawned after you, the action infectious, and moped like a kid that wasn’t ready to go to bed.

The emotional weight of everything was coming down on you, and you craved for nothing more than to pass the fuck out under those incredibly plush and cozy looking blankets.

“Think that’s our cue,” you grumbled and rubbed the corner of your eye with your knuckle. “Or mine, anyway. I’m ready to conk out and sleep for, like, a century.”

He chuckled lazily, the noise husky and low. It wasn’t particularly late, no, but you felt like you’d been struck with a bus filled with mental and physical tax collected over a great deal of time. He waved you off, turning to strut down the hall opposite of the one you came through, and left you with a still cheery farewell.

Finally.

You well-nigh sprinted back to your room to nab your toiletries and sped through your simple nightly routine, impatient and antsy to dive into that queen-sized mattress. It’s not that you disliked Gojo’s company, quite the opposite, actually, but you were tired.

Usually, you tried to put off sleep until your body gave out in the early hours before morning, uncaring for the dreams that inevitably spawned, no matter how little or how much sleep you got.

But now?

Those sheets were hailing you.

You couldn’t brush your teeth quick enough. Your face was practically still damp with your moisturizer as you dived under the duvet and keened. You’d never known such opulence in your life.

Your legs kicked with glee as you snuggled in, squeaking and curling on your side and clutching the fabric of the blanket tightly in your hands to ensure it went nowhere while you pranced around in dreamland. Heaven. Pure and simple. Heaven with the fragrance of new pin laundry and your body wash, that held your head on the coziest lap, that hugged your form and incontinently coaxed you under the waves of hypnotic slumbering.

Comfort surrounded you. The mattress underneath you was the ideal level of firmness, the blankets were warm without being overbearingly hot, and being in such a neat environment swiftly lulled you into a far easier and more satisfying sleep than you’ve had in a long time.

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burntheedges · 2 months

Text

Maintenance Request Chapter 17

Joel Miller x f!reader | new chapter every Friday 18+ | ao3 | main post & chapter list chapter word count: 3.2k

chapter summary: Joel follows through on that promise of a phone call. 😏

a/n: thank you as always to @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta 💕

chapter tags/warnings: flirting, banter, fluff, cursing, food and drink mention, pet names (honey, gorgeous, darlin’, baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, good girl, handsome, cowboy), reader wears lingerie with gusset fastenings (picture whatever you'd like), phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation (f & m), Joel talks you through it

Chapter 17

Saturday, November 2 Tenth week of the semester

On Friday and Saturday, you and Joel texted a bit, but he was clearly busy with Sarah’s tournament and his family (which grew in size in your mind every time you learned more about them – how many cousins did he have, anyway?).

You spent Saturday with Beth and Ellie.

“What’s this project about?” Beth asked Ellie as she flopped onto the couch next to her. She’d brought coffee and donuts, again, and the three of you were sitting around the strange, flat sculpture-thing Ellie had brought over and set in the middle of your coffee table.

“We’re supposed to pick a historical event and do a presentation on it.”

You and Beth both squinted at the thing on your table. “Is this a historical event?”

Ellie sighed. “It was going to be the Emu War, like that’s supposed to be the plain and a town, but I realized I have no idea how to do the emus. Like, I can use little plastic soldiers for the humans, but what the fuck do I do for the emus?”

Beth had started giggling the second Ellie said “Emu War” and looked like she might fall off the couch.

You turned your squint to Ellie. “Was there a list of events to choose from?”

She looked shifty and wouldn’t meet your gaze. “Maybe,” she mumbled, tucking her hands up into the sleeves of her hoodie..

You raised your eyebrows. “Was the Emu War on it?” You had a feeling it wasn’t.

“No,” she muttered, confirming your suspicions. “But she said I couldn’t do the moon again. And I didn’t want to pick some boring, snoozefest historical event! What’s cooler than emus?” She crossed her arms, indignant. Beth teetered sideways as she giggled. You noticed she was laughing so hard her laughter had gone silent.

You sighed. “Did it say you could pick your own?”

She nodded, and then shrugged. “Yeah, but she said she’d grade it harder.”

Setting aside your thoughts on that grading strategy, you replied, “ok, well, sounds like you can choose the Emu War then. So what are we going to do about these emus?” You heard Beth snort and turned to find that she’d buried her face in one of your throw pillows.

Ellie started to explain her plan for demonstrating the different parts of the war on her landscape and you started poking Beth in the leg to get her to find her composure. It sort of worked.

“Hey,” Beth took a deep breath and made a soft “woo” noise as she breathed out, clearly trying not to laugh. “We can go over to that hobby store, the one with the model trains. Maybe they have little figurines that would work.”

Ellie perked up. “Yeah! I bet they have all sorts of weird little guys. And model shit.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, let’s head over there now. Maybe we can get lunch on the way back, and then you can plan your battle.” Ellie grinned and jumped up to lead the way to the front door. You caught Beth’s eye but quickly looked away as you felt a laugh pull at the side of your mouth.

By the time you’d gone to the store, retrieved all sorts of “weird little guys” and “model shit” for Ellie, and helped her plan her presentation, it was well after dinner. Beth volunteered to drive Ellie and her historical event home, so you found yourself alone and putting laundry away, wondering if Joel would manage to find some privacy as he’d said. There was a party of some kind with his family that night, and he’d sent you a couple of pictures of a crowd of dancers, Sarah among them, smiling. Ellie had caught you smiling down at your phone earlier and teased you for it mercilessly.

Around 10:45, your phone buzzed as you settled into bed with a book.

Joel (10:44 PM): You free, honey? I just escaped.

you (10:45 PM): sure am 💕

** incoming FaceTime call from Joel **

When his face came into view, you noticed he looked tired.

“Hey there, handsome. How was the party?”

Joel smiled, and you could see the fatigue in his expression. “Still going. They made me dance too much, but otherwise fine. I’m beat. How are you, gorgeous?”

You smiled at him and settled into your pillows. “Nothing exciting here. Just cleaned up a bit, did some laundry. Well, I did spend the afternoon with Ellie and Beth. Helped her with a class project.”

Joel looked wistful for a moment. “Sounds nice. Would like to spend a day like that with you.”

You smiled, and felt your cheeks heat. This man. “You’re welcome to join us anytime you’d like, but I can’t promise much excitement with laundry. How was the tournament?”

He settled back into his pillows and you noticed the unfamiliar room. “Good, Sarah’s team played well. Didn’t win every game, but they did win most of ‘em. They’ll play in the final games tomorrow.”

“Tell her I said congratulations and good luck.”

“I will. What was Ellie’s project about?”

You laughed. “The Emu War, in Australia. We had to go out to that model train store to get her some little figurines for her mockup.” Joel laughed, too, shaking his head.

“Everything I hear about your niece is like a new adventure. I can’t wait to meet her.” You grinned at him.

“I can’t wait to introduce you.”

You were silent for a moment as you studied the room he was in.

“Joel, where are you?” The bed looked small and the room had some interesting decor.

He laughed. “I’m in my cousin’s son’s room for the weekend, he’s away at college. Left his room looking like it did when he was in middle school, I’d guess. Sarah’s in with her little cousin.” He panned the camera to show you decor you would in fact associate with a 14-year old boy. There were even some pictures of women clearly cut out of magazines and taped up on the wall at the foot of the bed.

“I see you have some inspiration keeping you company,” you teased.

Joel turned the camera back around so you could see his face, and raised an eyebrow at you. “Baby, if you think I’m looking anywhere but at you whenever I can see you, you haven’t been paying attention.”

You smiled and bit your lip. “Flirt,” you accused.

He grinned. “Guilty, honey, but you love it.” You rolled your eyes. “Aw, come on, bet you miss me.”

You hummed. “Well, I don’t think I could say no to that and be at all convincing.” He laughed. “Yeah, Joel, I do.”

“Don’t worry, honey, I miss you, too. Been thinkin’ about you all day.”

“Oh? What about?” You raised your eyebrows and tried to adopt an innocent look.

He eyed you, and somehow you could tell that he was checking you out. You moved the camera slightly farther away to give him a better view and he smirked.

“Been thinkin’ about what I might do if I had you with me, tonight, instead of on the phone. Been thinkin’ about what we might do instead.” You licked your bottom lip in anticipation and you watched him watch you do it. Feeling suddenly inspired, you raised the hand not holding the phone and rested it lightly on your chest. His gaze darkened as he stared at it.

“Tell me what you were thinking about, Joel.” You wanted to sound commanding, but your voice was too breathy, too affected already.

“I thought about a lot of things, darlin’. Thought about how my pretty girl likes to be touched, to be held. Thought about all those pretty noises you made in my bed, ‘n how much I want to hear ‘em again.” Your breath caught and you watched your own mouth drop open on the screen. He grinned, almost feral. “Why don’t you take off that shirt, honey, let me see you.”

You nodded, and hid your own grin behind the shirt as you pulled it off. You’d been hopeful when you’d gotten dressed for bed a while ago, and you thought he’d probably like the lace you were hiding underneath. Before you could see him again you heard him inhale sharply and you threw your shirt across the room.

“Fuck,” he whispered, and you saw that he was staring at your chest. Good. “Honey, s’that for me?” He sounded breathless and you loved it.

“Yes, Joel,” you smiled around your response. “Was hoping you’d call.” He groaned, eyes slipping shut briefly.

“I need to see it, baby. Show me the whole thing.” You didn’t know what to do with the phone. You glanced around, grabbing some of your extra pillows to prop it up in front of you. It put him at your feet, looking at your legs and at an angle up your chest, to your face. If you opened your legs right now he’d be looking straight at your pussy through the lace of your lingerie. The idea sent a thrill through you.

“Honey, you are so fucking gorgeous,” he praised, eyes dancing over you as you laid in front of him. You grinned, propping yourself up on your pillows so he could see your face, too.

“I think you need to take off those clothes too, cowboy.” He nodded and began to strip himself out of his clothes. You watched, intent.

Soon he was positioned similar to you, but propped on his side with the phone against a pillow in front of him. It gave you an amazing view of his bare chest and you turned your phone sideways to fully appreciate it. His hand slid across the bedspread towards the camera like he was reaching out to you.

“You want me to make you feel good, honey?” Your breath caught in your throat and you nodded. “Yeah? Want me to tell you what I’d do if I were there right now?”

“Yes, Joel,” you breathed.

“How’s this?” He looked you over. “Why don’t you spread your legs for me, honey, show me what I’m working with.” You smiled and did as he asked. He nodded. “That’s perfect, honey. Showing me everything. Showing me how good you look in that lace.” He sighed. “Move that pretty lace to the side for me, sweetheart. I need to see you.”

You scrambled to do as he asked, but realized he couldn’t see the details of your lingerie – the snaps as you undid the fastenings in the underwear were loud, and you knew he could hear them. “What–” he started, but you laid back again before he could finish, legs wide open for him to see. “Fuck, baby,” he breathed. “You are so gorgeous. What I wouldn’t give to touch you right now.”

“How would you touch me, Joel?” You watched as he slid one of his hands into his briefs and gulped.

He grinned. “Any way you want, honey. But I’d start with my fingers on your pussy. Look at you. Are you wet already?”

You nodded, then realized he might not see it, and said, “yes, Joel, always.”

“Good girl. Spread that wet pussy for me baby, let me see.”

You reached down to do so, and then realized the camera might be too far away for this. You rearranged the pillows, bringing him closer and you heard him groan as you fell back to do as he asked. With your left hand, you reached down to spread your folds wide for him, and then changed your mind and added your right. With both hands, you spread your pussy wide open and he moaned.

“Fucking hell, you are so fucking beautiful,” you heard him shift on the bed and wondered if he was touching himself. He must be. “I’ll never get enough of this, honey. Shit.”

You hummed, using your left hand to keep yourself spread open but moving your fingers to begin circling your clit. You sighed into the feeling. “Joel, what now?”

“Just like that, baby. I’d touch that pretty little clit, get her all worked up for me. Just like that.” He sounded breathless, just like you felt. “Tease you with my fingers. Maybe my tongue.” You moaned. “Yeah, did you like that? The way my tongue felt on your pussy? Inside?”

You nodded, and managed, breathily, “yes, Joel.”

“I know you did, honey. Could feel it. Could see it.” You could hear it now, the sound of him fucking his fist. It made heat rush up your spine. “Can’t wait to put my mouth on you again. I want to lick that pussy for hours next time. Just drown in it. Fuck.”

The mental image made you think of what you’d been wanting, couldn’t stop thinking about, and it slipped out. “Next time is my turn.”

“Hmm, baby? What?”

“My turn,” you said in a stronger voice. “Next time I’m getting my mouth on your cock.”

“Fuck.” He sounded like he was falling apart.

“Don’t even have to wait for our date,” you breathed, trying to speak loudly enough for him to hear you. “I want to get on my knees for you in my office, handsome. Lock the door and take my time, ah–”

Joel’s deep, growling groan cut you off. “Fuck. Is that what you want, hmm? My dirty girl?” You nodded, but you had no idea if he was looking at you. “Honey, you can have it whenever you want. You know how pretty you’d look, with your mouth around my cock?”

“Yes,” you moaned, but he didn’t stop talking.

“Would you like that, honey? Getting on your knees for me right there in your office? Where anyone might hear you?” His words washed over you as you felt the heat start to build from your core all the way up your spine.

“Joel–”

“Shit, baby, let me see you put your fingers inside. Just slip ‘em inside, honey.” You moved your left hand down from your clit and teased at your entrance. He hummed to encourage you, and you curled two fingers inside. “Such a good girl, hmm? Doing so good for me.” You felt a shiver travel down your spine.

“Miss your hands, Joel.” The words left your mouth on a sigh, and you opened your eyes (when had you closed them?) to look for him. He had his hand wrapped tightly around his cock and he was staring straight at the camera.

“I know you do, baby. Those little fingers are nothin’ like mine, right? Not enough to fill you up.” You shook your head. “I know, my pretty girl needs something bigger. Needs to take it.” You watched as he jacked himself faster, and you sped up your fingers in response. You nodded and whined out, “yes, Joel.”

He grinned. “That’s right, honey. Next time I see you I’ll give it to you.” You slipped another finger inside, imagining it.

It was too much, and not enough. Suddenly you needed more, but you didn’t know what. You whined again, and you watched him furrow his brows.

“What do you need, sweetheart? I’ll give you whatever you want, you know that.” His eyes were dark under his brow and you watched as he twisted his hand around the head of his cock. “Why don’t you move those fingers faster on your little clit, baby. Don’t you want to be good and come for me?” Your breath hitched and you nodded.

“Yes, Joel,” your voice was barely there, but he heard it.

“I know you do, honey. Let me see it. Let me see you come for me, just like that. Never seen anything so pretty.”

You could feel it coming, licking at the bottom of your spine like a fire about to catch.

“Can’t wait to have you in my bed again, gorgeous. Can’t get it out of my mind, how good you looked. How right.” You shuddered as your orgasm came hurtling towards you. “Right where I want you, nowhere else. Now let me see it, baby. Give it to me. Come.”

It was like your body was waiting for him without knowing it. As soon as Joel commanded it, you did.

The orgasm washed down your body like the tide going out, pulling and dragging you under as you cried out his name. Your chest heaved as your muscles locked, spine arching off the bed.

You rode it out, feeling sparks tingle along your arms and legs. Distantly you heard him choke out your name as he followed you, and your eyes flew open again to watch. You managed it just in time to see the thick ropes of his cum paint his naked chest.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You watched his chest rise and fall with heavy breaths, as labored as your own. Slowly your heels slid down the bed as your legs fell flat against your blankets and all the tension left your body. You weren’t sure if you could move your arms.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Joel almost whispered, sounding wrecked. “I ain’t even touchin’ you and it’s the best I ever had. Better than I ever imagined.” You nodded.

“Me too, Joel.” He smiled and reached out for the camera to bring you closer. You did the same. Your eyes darted over his face as his smile grew.

“Honey, I swear I wasn’t planning to jump right in like that. Just can’t resist you.” You laughed. “You tired, darlin’?”

You sighed. “A little. Talk to me until I fall asleep?” He nodded.

“Let’s clean up, meet back here.”

You did, and soon you were on your side under your covers with the phone propped up on the pillow in front of you. Joel smiled at you again, silently, and you finally narrowed your eyes and asked, “what?”

He shrugged. “Just lookin’, gorgeous.” You felt your cheeks heat, as always around this man. “Wish I were there with you.”

“Me too, Joel.”

He smiled. “Can I come by for lunch on Monday? We’ll be getting back late tomorrow, or I’d just beg to come over then.”

“I wouldn’t stop you, even if it’s late.”

“Don’t tempt me, darlin’.” You laughed. “I can see you fallin’ asleep.” You blinked your eyes wide and he smiled. “It’s ok, I just wanted to say something real quick.”

You yawned, but sat up a little so you’d hear what he wanted to say. “Can’t help that you gave me a workout, Joel.”

He grinned, but quickly sobered. “Sarah told me what you talked about. I– I’m glad you know. Just wanted you to know that. I wasn’t keeping it from you, or anything.”

You shook your head. “No, Joel, of course not. She told me how careful you are with talking about it.”

He ran a hand down his face and sighed. “I just want it to be up to her, really. But yeah, I’ll tell you all about it. There’s some stuff Sarah was too little to understand, between her mom and me. But maybe another time, when you aren’t about to fall asleep in front of me, honey.”

You shook your head again, trying to wake up. “I’m sorry, Joel.”

“No, it’s alright, I just wanted to say that. We got plenty of time, after all. I’ll see you Monday?”

You nodded. “Monday.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

…

Sunday, November 3 Tenth week of the semester

Joel (7:32 AM): Have a good day, honey. Woke up in a good mood today, for some reason. Hope you did too.

you (8:37 AM): 🥰 sure did, handsome

Joel (8:43 AM): Good. 😉

...

a/n: look Ellie to me is the type of teenager who would think the words ‘Emu War’ were hysterical and then lock herself into an absurd class project because of it. see you next week!

tag list: @harriedandharassed @jupiter-soups @ilovepedro @auteurdelabre @anoverwhelmingdin @myloveistoolittle @iknowisoundcrazy @beezusvreeland @screechingphantommaker @bigboiseason123 @joelalorian @untamedheart81 @ashleyfilm @jessthebaker @jeewrites @fluffygoffpanda @paleidiot @mithicakurogo @theclairvoyage @lizzie-cakes @islacharlotte @syd-djarin @copperhalfcent @vabeachazn @spacedoutdaydreamer

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#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou fic #x reader #maintenance request fic #JHCGBDM

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to-the-stars8 · 11 months

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Learning to Love Slowly

Jason Todd x Reader All Chapters AO3 18+ MDNI here's your nickleback smut, for context find that post about me listening to nickleback. also I didn't re-read this bc I'm just too tired lol

54-Positions and Pillow Talk

“Oh, fuck, don’t stop,” You gasped, turning to scream into the pillow. From this angle, he was hitting just the right spots and incredibly fucking deep. “Just like that. Oh, shit, Jason!”

The way you said his name, breathlessly and full of lust, had Jason’s heart fluttering while his cock twitched. Looking down at you like you were a gift he’d been wanting for years, Jay gripped at your ass until there were indentions of his fingers left behind. It would leave bruises, he knew, but he decided that the guilt could come later. Yet, that wasn’t enough. He wanted to be closer.

Jason groaned as he pushed into you as deep as he could until he bottomed out, and his chest was against your back. Your body went limp for a second, and he looked up just in time to see you turn to let out another string of loud moans into the pillow.

Smiling, he asked, “You good, sweetheart?”

Sweaty and flushed, you weakly hummed a yes. Jason insisted to hear your voice as he moved pieces of hair from your mouth. “Yes, I just—You’re so fucking good…”

You couldn’t finish your sentence as Jason started to slowly thrust again, pressing sloppy kisses into your shoulder as he did. His hand snaked around your waist, his fingers tracing a sweaty line from the bottom of your breasts to between your legs.

You put your hand on his, mumbling something incoherent as your eyes fluttered closed again. Jason thought about stopping, seeing how overstimulated you were and not wanting to push too far, but he remembered that you’d let him know when enough was enough. And, by the whine you gave, hand pushing against his, you wanted more.

Jason moaned into your hair as his fingers finally found the place he’d been searching for. You were soaked, the wetness causing his fingers to easily slide against your clit, finding the just right rhythm you liked.

Jason steadied himself with his other hand as he slowly pulled out before slamming into you again. You yelped in surprise, hands scrabbling to find something to cling onto until one found the pillow next to you and the other found his forearm.

“You look so pretty,” Jason whispered against your ear, picking up the pace of his thrusts.

You looked up at him, eyes glazed over but a sincere, sweet smile on your face as you tried to get out a thank you. Yet, when he hit that spot again, your eyes closed and you thinned your lips to contain another moan. Jason couldn’t have pictured a prettier sight, nor anything else he’d rather be doing than you.

Before you made a sound, he felt you come undone, pussy fluttering around his cock. It made his movements stutter for a second, because, for how good he was at finding all the right places in you, you were somehow better at doing the same to him. Jason groaned, forehead pressing against the back of your shoulder as he concentrated to not cum just yet. He wanted this feeling to last a little longer, to be right on the edge yet again.

When you finally turned your face from the pillow, you tried to look at Jason over your shoulder, hand on his arm weakly stroking him reassuringly. Breathless, weakly, you asked, “How we doin’ back there, honey?”

Jason chuckled, pressing another kiss to your shoulder, “We’re good, baby. You good for me to keep going?”

“Yeah, but wait,” You said sheepishly. “Can we change positions? I wanna try a new one.”

Jason nodded, a bit hesitant at first because he liked the way the two of you were— You were certainly enjoying it in any case. Though, that didn’t stop him from slowly removing himself from you with a whimper.

Taking the arm you already holding, you pulled him to lie behind you on his side, essentially making him spoon you. Jason, once he realized what you were doing, was enthusiastic about fucking you while essentially cuddling. He slipped his hand under your ass and up the back of your thigh, pushing your leg up in the air so he could align himself back at your entrance. There was little resistance as he pushed in, only taking a second to make sure you were okay before bucking his hips against you again.

He was thrusting faster and wild this time, losing a lot of the constraint from before. Jason liked this position, it gave him easier access to other parts of your body and he just felt a fuck ton closer to you. Skin pressed against skin, and there was no hiding your face into a pillow or hiding how much you liked it. As you were quickly a blubbering mess, nails digging into Jason’s forearms as his arms held you to him so incredibly tight.

He was whispering shit into your hair, but fuck all if you were listening—completely blocking him out when his fingers found your clit again. You squealed, still sensitive from earlier. Jason groaned, his lips finding the nape of your neck and sucking a hickey into the soft skin. While you attempted to turn your head to kiss him, you finally came again. Your orgasm was sudden and unanticipated, washing over you so quickly that you didn’t have time to register Jason finally capturing your lips with his.

“Jason,” You sobbed, turning to look down at where your bodies conjoined. You could see your slick covering the inside of your thighs and his cock, and it send butterflies to your stomach. Suddenly, you cried out, “Fuck, I want you to come in me.”

Jason whimpered lightly into your ear, a sound so sweet and pitiful. He was so close, you could feel him twitch inside you as he tried to pull you closer. With both arms wrapped around your waist, his hips snapped forward in desperation.

“Oh, fuck,” He whispered into your ear. “I’m gonna…fuck, sweetheart—Gonna cum.”

Before you could say anything he stilled, letting out a breathy moan against your ear. Having him cum in you was another kind of pleasure you didn’t know you’d been yearning for, and he certainly had been holding back. When Jason pulled out, whimpering as he did, he couldn’t help himself as he push himself back in—causing an obscene squelch sound you didn’t think be recreated outside of porn.

“Shit,” He breathed against your ear after a few minutes. “You’re so fucking good.”

Letting out a quick laugh, you turned to give him a peck on the lips. “Right back at ya, handsome.”

Jason chuckled before loosening his grip around your waist, just enough that you took the opportunity to wiggle away. As much as you loved the feeling of his cum in you, you never quite liked the mess.

“Babe, no,” Jason whined. “Stay.”

You giggled, trying to withstand the jelly feeling in your legs, before waddling to the bathroom. Jason smiled to himself as he sat up, reaching for his phone. “Are you hungry, sweetheart?” He had felt hungry for the past hour but was too entrenched in the sex to pay attention to the feeling. “I’m famished.”

“Who the fuck says famished, Jason?” You called back, laughing.

He snickered, “People who read.”

“I read!” Your voice grew louder as you opened the door. “And, yes, I am very hungry.”

Jason shook his head, “Said like someone who doesn’t read.”

You laughed, picking out some clothes from your drawer before turning to him again. “You know, I bet there is no one else in the entire world who has sexier pillow talk than us.”

Jason’s laugh was a low rumble that was welcoming to the ears and you abandoning the clothes you had picked out. Almost instantly he noticed what you were doing, putting his phone off to the side and saying, “Well, look what all that lack of reading and too much talking is about to get you now.”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #romance #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x you #red hood #red hood x reader #batfamily #robin jason todd #jason todd smut #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #red hood smut #red hood fanfiction

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chaoticbardlady99 · 25 days

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Darling, Never Stop Haunting Me- MDNI 18+

Spawn! Astarion x F! Ghost Reader

Chapter 9: Performance Review

Synopsis: You and Astarion read your book and a moment of peace opens up the opportunity for risks. You ask Astarion to give you a lesson early in the morning after Karlach's morning wake up call wakes more than just Astarion's brain up.

CW: Oral (Female Receiving), Oral (Male Receiving), sex, praise kinks, virginity loss, Dom (Astarion)/ Sub (Birdie/You) ish

Disclaimer- put together the picture for the banner, but I do not own any of the pictures. I did take the picture of ‘Birdie’ and Astarion on my PS5

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for all your support and love!

Chapter 8: Chapter 10: AO3

“He stuck his member into the man’s weeping hole-“

“Astarion,” you laugh, “stop, this is terrible- I don’t think it’s going to matter how many different voices you make or gestures- let alone languages- you read it in.”

“I disagree, my Love,” he says as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, “I think I have made it far more entertaining this way.”

“Ah yes because talking about a man’s ’weeping hole’ sounds so much better in a pirate voice or in Orcish.”

“Oh? Can you do better?”

You clear your throat before belting out in a C Minor, “HE STUCK HISSSS MEMBER INTO HIS WEEEEPPINGGG HOLEEEEE!”

You are both in stitches- this book is truly truly terrible, but it has erased any tension that had been lingering from earlier.

It’s probably pretty late now- surely it would be best to start going to sleep. You can’t get yourself to though, you want to spend as many waking minutes as you can with him.

You had really thought he was going to spend the night with someone else, but he’s here with you instead. He wanted to be here with you- he was rushing to get back here to be with you.

Your laughter dies down and you are both left in a comfortable silence. You lean back into Astarion’s chest once again- relishing in the feeling of the contact.

Maybe you just… make your move? It could be possible that he has feelings for you, couldn’t it?

You move slowly so that you straddle his lap and Astarion almost seems to help adjust you faster when he realizes what you are doing. He is looking up at you and your heart skips a beat.

Wanting. Need. Love.

Affections that are relatively foreign to you, but you can identify in his eyes because you feel the same.

You cup his face with your hands, your eyes search his face for any sign to stop, but his hands are tight on your hips and his mouth is hovering over yours of his own volition. You timidly close the gap.

It feels like fireworks, but not in the way one would expect. It feels like giddiness, happiness, whimsical, and excitement. His lips tease at yours and guide you as you learn how to kiss him.

It’s absolutely incredible- your hands gently grasp at his curls and he moans against your mouth. Astarion’s hands move to your ass and he maneuvers you so that you are even closer to him now.

You don’t know how you end up on your back, your hands pinned next to your head and your legs hooked around his hips, but it all feels positively divine.

All you can feel, breath, and acknowledge is him. Astarion is your entire world in this moment and you never want it to stop.

So of course Gale and Tav are screaming upstairs.

Astarion lifts himself from you with a huff of frustration.

“WHY ARE YOU GUYS SCREAMING!?”

You feel bad for feeling so annoyed, but Gods dammit- of all the times, now!?

“Uh hm, we- we,” they shout back, “WE ARE ARGUING ABOUT WHO IS GOING TO BE A BETTER DANCER DURING OUR FIRST DANCE!”

“TAV,” you yell from inside the room, “GALE HAS TWO LEFT FEET!”

“I DO NOT HAVE-,” Gale scoffs and throws his hands in the air, “you lot are insufferable!”

As soon as the shouting stops, you pull Astarion back down on the bed and straddle him- he greedily brings your crotch down to his own. You gasp at the contact.

More. You need more.

He seems to have the same idea.

You both fumble through taking each other’s clothes off- your shirt getting stuck over your head because you both forgot to unlace the front. Astarion laughs as your shoulders slump and you look at him through the fabric, the neck stuck on your forehead, entirely unamused.

“This is your fault, ya know?”

“Oh is it?” he says teasingly, “I’m not the one who chose the shirt.”

“Well I wasn’t the one in charge of taking it-” you are stopped by the gasp that leaves your mouth when his mouth latches onto your exposed breast.

Astarion is relentless in his ministrations- he teases at your sensitive nipples. They almost feel sore in the aftermath, but it just makes you want him to continue. He releases your nub with a flick of his tongue before repeating his affections on the other. You fumble with strings on your shirt- finally taking it off- and the sight underneath you causes a wave of warmth to coat your legs.

Astarion looks up at you with wide pupils and a hungry look in his eyes. He watches your every reaction and you try to hide behind your hair- only to have him quickly pull it away from your face.

“Oh no, no, no,” he kisses in between your breasts, “don’t become shy on me now.”

He brings you to a standing position, sinking to his knees as he kisses along your body and down your navel, and his hands gripping your ass. You feel worshiped, adored.

His mouth hovers over your already overly stimulated clit. He flicks his tongue across it and you gasp with pleasure.

“Do you want me to continue, lover,” he whispers, placing a kiss on your thigh that makes your body shiver in delight.

“Take me, Astarion,” you could cringe at how needy and cliche you sound, “I’m yours.”

Astarion smiles widely, “Oh Darling, I am sure the Gods have sent you to ruin me.”

His mouth is immediately sucking on your sensitive nub. Your hands grip his hair- eliciting a moan that vibrates to your core. You can feel yourself dripping between your thighs as he laps at you and teases you.

It all feels so right- his tongue against you, his hands holding you in place. You have certainly imagined moments like this, but nothing will ever compare to this- the real deal.

“Oh fuck- Star-“

He hums against you before dipping his tongue inside your virgin cunt and you whine with delight at the contact. Your legs begin to shake and a knot of pleasure is forming in your belly.

Astarion uses his strength to keep you upright as your legs begin to give and his tongue seems to find the magic spot because you are fighting to not scream in pleasure. This is a private moment and if you can hear them, they can certainly hear you.

He removes his tongue from inside of you and you whine in protest- looking down at him with tears pricking your eyes. You need to cum- it’s physically painful how turned on you are right now, in the best way possible, but still.

You had been so close.

“I need you to be a good girl, Birdie,” he says, his eyes hooded and his smile mischievous- placing an open mouthed kiss to your clit, “I need you to cum for me and,” he grabs your hand away from your mouth, “I want the entire world to know you are mine. Cover your mouth again and I will stop- I am so much more motivated when you sing for me.”

Fuck.

You don’t have a moment to respond before he’s diving back in between your thighs, spreading your legs a bit so that his nose begins to tease your clit while his tongue drinks in every last bit of you.

You feel the knot uncoil in your stomach and you have to put your hands on Astarion’s shoulders for support. Your legs shake and your knees feel like jelly. You can’t believe you have been missing out on this for 354 years!

He picks up your blissed out body and places you softly on the bed. Astarion grabs your left leg and begins to kiss up your body, starting at the ankle all the way down to your inner thigh. You feel so wonderful- you don’t ever want this to stop and a part of you is worried it’s a dream.

That thought is quickly thrown out the window when one of his fingers enters you and begins to slowly pump in and out.

Your back arches and your head goes back- a cry of pleasure leaves your lips.

“So pretty “ he kisses the inside of your calf, “so good and all mine.”

You whine in agreement- your body finally adjusted to one finger so he adds a second. His mouth and other hand begin to knead and play with your breasts. Astarion suckles and nips your sore nipples- he adds a third finger and you immediately see stars.

“A-astarion fuck…”

He removes his fingers from inside you- making eye contact as he cleans them off. He kisses the rest of the way up your body and his mouth hovers over yours. You feel the head of his cock tease your entrance, it’s already easily dipping in between your folds.

“Do you still want me to continue?”

You nod earnestly, but you definitely feel some of the nervousness you had forgotten about begin to build up. Astarion seems to notice this and raises an eyebrow at you.

“You are thinking about something- what is it, Darling?”

“What… what if I disappoint you?” you whisper, avoiding his eyes.

Astarion’s eyes soften significantly more, the flames of lust simmering and you fear you ruined the moment. He tilts your face back up so that you are looking him directly in the eyes.

“You could never disappoint me, Birdie,” he leaves a chaste kiss on your lips, “you are perfect in every single way and I truly am having the most wonderful time I have ever had sharing an intimate moment with someone.”

You sigh in relief- that makes you feel a lot less nervous about the whole ordeal.

“Let me know if I need to slow down or stop,” he whispers into your ear, “I fear, that if I have my way, you may not be entirely comfortable.”

Warmth pierces your clit and the ball of nerves feels strained with want. You nod and Astarion kisses you again at the same time he slowly begins to push inside of you. You gasp- the uncomfortable pinching feeling making the corners of your eyes prick with tears.

You feel so full and his shaky breaths against your lips, the stiffness of his lower half as he tries to be gentle. One of your hands reaches between you so that you can rub your clit.

You can feel the static energy waiting to be released within him- he has wanted this for a lot longer than you thought. A part of you was worried he had just begun to feel this way and you were moving it along too fast.

“You feel so good,” he kisses along your cheek, a moan leaving his beautiful lips as he moves in and out slowly, “it feels like you were made for me- made to take me.”

His words are genuine- you can hear it in his tone and the way he peers into your eyes now.

No performing, just Astarion.

“I feel like I was made for you too,” you whisper before kissing him again, he groans against your mouth.

Astarion rocks his hips, taking his time to stretch you around his cock. The pinching feeling is beginning to go away and unleash sensations of pleasure that you never thought you would get to experience in any lifetime.

He whimpers into your neck, his hips stuttering as he tries to hold back, but now that you feel good you need more.

“M-more- please.”

Astarion chuckles while releasing a sigh of relief, “well, since you asked so nicely, my love.”

His hips snap, all the power he holds back being put into several deep thrusts that leave your toes tingling and reduces you to nothing but a puddle of whimpering gasps and moans. Your arms are loose around his neck and he kisses you along your chin, leaving love bites as he makes his way to your collarbones.

The sound of your skin slapping together as he hits that perfect spot every single time is damning- his mouth is covering yours for the sake of some privacy (he doesn’t want you to feel embarrassed) but occasionally frees you so that he can hear you cry out as he thrusts back into you.

He adjusts so that one of your legs is up, ankle on his shoulder, and the other leg around his hip. You feel yourself blush as he makes eye contact with you through every movement of his hips, biting his lip and panting- his hair a wild mess for the first time ever.

“You are far too good for me,” you whine, “Gods, you are perfect.”

His pace falters- his body losing it’s rhythm for a moment and his head drops into the crook of your neck.

“You are amazing,” you say through gasps, “fuck-“

Astarion moves himself slowly within you and reaches down to play with your clit- pushing your hand away. Your back arches towards him- your body pleading for more as his pace picks up and his fingers continue to pay attention to your overstimulated clit. You are panting with want and he puts you on your knees.

The new angle and position as well as Astarion playing with your clit brings you closer to your orgasm than you had wanted to. You want to keep going- he feels so fucking incredible.

His. His. His. I am his and he is mine.

A blindingly wonderful sensation courses through your body as the knot unravels in your stomach again and your orgasm ripples through your body. You cry out his name, begging him to keep going.

“Good… girl,” he kisses your calf, his hips erratic now as he chases his own high.

The overstimulation and the general euphoria of being with him in this way makes your head spin in circles with happiness. Your lips are slightly parted and he coaxes pathetic whimpers from you.

“A-as-Astarion,” you say through a shaky breath, “I need you to cum inside me pl- EASE! FUCK!

That seemed to have unleashed something within him because he is quickly pistoning in and out of you- your moans turning into borderline screams of pleasure, taking a guttural pitch. You can feel the thick ropes of his being coat your walls, leaving a mess in it’s wake. Astarion collapses on top of you and he softens inside you. He nuzzles his face into your neck and hums with pleasure.

You breathe heavily as you try to regain your bearings. That was like nothing you have ever experienced before. He pulls you into him- his hands tracing shapes on your hips.

“That, my Sweet,,” he says between kisses on your shoulder, “was incredible.”

“Extremely,” you let out a breathy laugh of relief, “that stupid book doesn’t do the act nearly enough justice.”

“Maybe we should continue reading,” he whispers into your ear, “compare notes?”

You laugh and kiss the top of his head.

“I think we may just have to.”

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

The morning sun and the sound of ruckus downstairs stirs you from your sleep- Astarion is still passed out with his face buried in your hair and his breath fanning your skin. He obviously hasn’t heard of his other companions' arrival.

Memories of last night come flooding back to you and you smile like an idiot- enjoying every second of your memories of the events.

It had been a beautiful dance- after so long of just wanting him and somehow, he wants you too.

“KNOCK KNOCK FANGS, TUNES! GET YOUR ASSES OUT HERE! IF I’M NOT GETTING EARLY MORNING SEX YET, THEN NO ONE IS!!”

“IF ONLY THEY WOULD HAVE NORMAL SEX TO BEGIN WITH!” Tav yells after her.

So everyone began drinking pretty early then and no one heard a thing. Awesome!

Astarion, obviously awake now, groans in irritation and presses his face into your shoulder.

“If we ignore her… she’ll go away.”

“I hope so,” you return with an equally sleepy voice, “I have no intentions of leaving this bed if I don’t have to.”

He chuckles and Astarion absentmindedly places a kiss on your shoulder. A needy, horribly wanting sigh escapes your lips. You would feel embarrassed, but it seems that he very much enjoyed the sound because you can feel his hard cock against your ass.

“SHIT!”

Astarion pulls away and looks absolutely panicked- pulling a pillow over his crotch area.

“Fuck- Gods- I am so sorry,” he is practically hysterical, “I-“

Your body moves for you and you press your lips against his- it’s a brief peck and he is absolutely bewildered by your actions. You feel the tears of rejection coming on the longer he doesn’t do or say anything and you hold them back like your life depends on it.

At least it you were given the opportunity to experience your dreams once, right?

“I- sorry- I thought after last night,” you chuckle awkwardly, tears falling from your eyes in spite of your willing to make them stop, “I will, um, give you some privacy.”

You don’t even have a moment to move before his lips are following yours and his thumbs are wiping away your tears- using his body to pin you to the mattress, flinging the pillow aside, and he grinds against your clit.

Gods, this is divine.

“That wasn’t just a dream?” He whispers against your lips.

“No,” you whisper back, “do you regret it?”

“Not at all,” he says promptly, “do you?”

“Not at all,” you smile back- his own smile becoming even more blinding.

His lips refuse to leave yours for even a second after that. He is soft with his touch, but desperate and needy all at the same time. It’s not difficult for you to keep pace with him- your body seems to be programmed to his within seconds. Only one time and you are entirely his. You are ruined for everyone else- you just know it.

However, you want to make him feel good and just focus on him this morning. You have heard him using the bathroom once or twice to… fulfill his needs, but you never could have dreamed he would be imagining you.

“Wait,” you put your hand between your lips and feel him frown, “I want to pleasure you.”

“Is that so?” He whispers, he looks surprised if you are being completely honest.

“Teach me how to take care of you,” you cup his face with your hands, leaving a chaste kiss, “show me.”

Astarion pushes himself off of you, pulling you upright along with him- he looks at you with curiosity.

“Are you sure, my Love?” He says wearily, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“I don’t,” you insist, “but if you don’t want me t-“

“That- my Dear- is far from the issue,” he steps forward, leaning forward to whisper in your ear, “get on your knees.”

You do as you are told, a jolt of arousal going straight to your core, and you hook your hands into the seam of his underwear, pulling them down and his cock springs free. All of this, just for you, because of you.

His tip is already weeping with precum and he looks embarrassed. Why? You think he looks beautiful this way. He always looks beautiful.

“You’re beautiful, Star,” you kiss along his navel, “I am so excited to finally know what you taste like.”

His eyes alight again at the praise and the implied desire in your words.

“Cheeky pup.”

Astarion wraps his hand around his cock and you look up at him with anticipation- he puts the tip to your lips and salty precum begins to dribble down your chin. You lap it up needily and that seems to push the embarrassment away. With hands tangled into your hair, he opens your mouth so you can take him.

Take him you do- his head hitting the back of your throat, you gag at the sudden presence, slightly embarrassed. Astarion chuckles.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about, Love,” he says darkly, “you are already being so good for me.”

You didn’t think you would have a praise kink, but you suppose it makes sense with the nature of your vocation anyhow. You live for praise and compliments so it makes sense.

Your mouth follows his hand as he strokes himself, his other hand gripping your hair, and keeping eye contact with you as he slowly fucks into your mouth. You are surprised by how much you are enjoying this, but it’s only because he obviously is.

Astarion is a moaning mess above you and around you, sweat starting to dampen his neck, and his hand guiding you to go faster. You apply pressure with your tongue and drag it along the sensitive skin- he shudders with pleasure.

“D-do that again and I… I want you to touch yourself.”

The last part comes out as a whisper and again, you are surprised to see him nervous and embarrassed about the things he is saying. It’s like you are both blushing virgins.

You happily comply, circling your tongue around his head and applying pressure on his slit. Astarion’s hand tightens in your hair as he begs you to keep doing that. You play and tease your own clit- humming with pleasure around his length. You can feel yourself blushing more and more as he praises you and guides you through touching yourself- eventually having you finger yourself at a painstakingly slow pace.

“Do- don’t change your pace until- fuck- until I tell you to.”

You hum and nod your head in understanding- bobbing him in your mouth. Astarion thrusts and hits the back of your throat- you gag a bit, but readjust much quicker this time.

Thank the Gods you have read so much pornography it could make an entire brothel blush. Being a 354 year old virgin really left a lot of free time and Donella had a very trashy library that was never redone.

The early morning sun is illuminating the entire room- his eyes are bright and practically sparkling, his pupils blown wide with lust, and you can see the little bit of blood coming from his bottom lip. He must have bit it- the crimson liquid mixing with the thin sheen of sweat that covers his face.

Your ministrations coax praise from him and even the occasional begging when you stop moving to tease him. This is far too fun, for once, you are the one in control.

“Fuck- I’m,” he is cut off by his own moan, his seed spilling into your mouth and down the back of your throat. You can’t help the smile that graces your lips as he watches you swallow with wide, affectionate eyes.

You release him with a pop, swallow, and stand up- throwing your arms around his neck.

“How did I do?”

Astarion throws his head back in laughter and you furrow your brows- leering at him.

“What!?”

“That was the single best oral sex I have ever received and you are asking for a performance review?” he scoffs playfully, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “you were perfect, as you are in all things.”

You beam- deciding to ignore his teasing.

“Would you like to join me in the bath?” He asks, “I doubt our companions are going to leave us alone for much longer if we don’t make an appearance.”

Instead of answering, you take his hand and drag him to the bathroom.

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

Author note: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Please let me know if you would like to be on the tag list! I am using the Ghostwalk campaign for NPCs, locations, etc. It is a 3e Campaign and doesn’t mirror 5e Ghosts. I have tweaked some of the ghost powers and such for the sake of the story, but if you would like more information on Ghostwalk and the City of Manifest, there is a PDF online that is free to download :)

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spacebarbarianweird · 4 days

Text

Shall We Meet Again?

Summary: Mindless fluff becomes mindless angst as Astarion spends his last weeks with his elderly love.

Pairing: Astarion x OC (Tiriel)

Tags: fluff, angst, conversation about mortality, old Tav

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

This is the first part of the Mortal Bounds series. Tiriel dies and Astarion deals with grief and loneliness along with their daughter. Tiriel doesn't die in this fic, but it takes place merely a week before she does.

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Hot water reaches up to Astarion’s chest. The book in his hand got slightly wet, but he is too engrossed in the reading to notice.

He has never had a passion for fiction, always preferring more serious topics – law, history, traveling guides, and anatomy books.

But this one has grasped his attention.

He is through the fifth chapter when he hears footsteps behind the door.

Tiriel has got up.

Astarion casts a glance at the door hoping his wife will look towards the bathroom before doing whatever she is up to.

One-hundred and fifty years and he still can’t get enough of her. Besides, what is 150 years for an elf?

“Good morning, love,” Tiriel murmurs, half-opening the door.

“Good morning,” he puts the book away. “Come here”.

Tiriel closes the door from the inside and approaches the tub. Astarion leans to the half-elf to give her a kiss.

“I can see someone develop a love for stories?” She chuckles sitting on a wooden stool.

“I always liked them!”

The elderly half-elf takes the book and puts it on a shelf where it won’t get any wetter. Tiriel is 186 and the years have been taking a toll on her.

Her once-red hair is now white, and her face is covered in wrinkles; so is the rest of her body. She can barely do anything when the weather changes and sometimes her spine hurts so much that Tiriel has to lie on her back for hours, unable to move.

She is still herself, still a warrior. But her human ancestry is forcing Tiriel to pay the price.

Even her voice has changed as she went past her climax twenty years ago.

Astarion grabs Tiriel’s hand forcing her to get closer to the tub. “Join me”.

“How could I say no?” She smiles and undresses to get inside the water. The moment she does, he tugs her closer to feel her warmth against her skin.

After 150 years of being together, he has finally realized that it is indeed her warmth he is addicted to, not her blood.

The chance to hold her to feel safe and listen to her steady heartbeat is the most precious thing for him.

And he knows he is going to lose it soon.

Half-elves sometimes live longer than two centuries. But with every passing year Tiriel will get weaker and weaker until death will take her.

Astarion will gladly take care of her no matter how old and weak she is, but Tiriel will suffer existing like this. She needs to die in a battle, in a fight.

Like the hero she is.

“Turn around,” she says, pulling away.

“I feel rather fine like this.”

But Tiriel looks at him with such an adorable expression he moves a bit to let her see his scarred back.

Tiriel takes a sponge and starts rubbing his back pressing her lips against his skin.

Astarion hugs his knees allowing Tiriel to wash him. Her gentle fingers run over his shoulders.

“Astarion.”

“Yes, love.”

“Can we talk?”

“Of course, my treasure, your voice is my favorite sound,” he chuckles but feels the tension between them. Oh, he knows what exactly she wants to talk about.

And he has been afraid of this conversation ever since they got together.

“Promise me you won’t step into the sun.”

He takes her hand and presses the digits against his lips.

“it will be difficult not to.”

“Astarion, I am serious!”

“I know, I know. We have a daughter, someone will have to look after her. Though I doubt the High Necromancer of Shantal needs to be taken care of; Alethaine has scared the shit out of all of her potential enemies.”

“She is still our daughter.”

“Of course. Our baby princess,” Astarion smiles, picturing the image of their daughter. “I won’t step into the sun I promise. I will keep… existing.”

Tiriel takes his chin and forces him to look at her.

“Promise me you will keep enjoying this life. When I go, promise, you will do all the things we haven’t had time for. Go to visit Halruaa, or other planes, search for the cure, and claim back your mortality. At least, live as long as elves usually do. I want this, Astarion. You deserve this. Besides… You know, we have an adult daughter. What if she wants children of her own? Imagine being a grandfather!”

“Alethaine has never had any romantic relationship in her life and couldn’t be less interested.”

Tiriel shrugs.

“You know, when she was little, maybe less than seven, she would always tell me that when she grew up she would have a daughter. And she always said it felt like it was set in stone. Considering you elves have prophetic abilities…”

“She doesn’t.”

“Maybe she did when she was little? Anyway…Astarion, keep living. Do this for me. And when you finally become mortal again, remember me.”

Astarion looks at his wife. The emotions overwhelm him and tears flow down his cheek. Remember her? He can't even imagine living like this! Being alone, truly alone, and having her only in his reveries.

It is going to be a torture.

Ever since he became free, Tiriel has been a part of life. Now, 150 years later, it’s impossible to remember those few weeks when Tiriel was just a target, a means to an end, because she became something essential in the blink of an eye.

They sit like that in the water for what Astarion thinks is eternity. Tiriel hugs him from behind, placing her cheek on his shoulder. And he tries to engrave this image in his mind. Her warmth. Her love. Her heartbeat.

She is still alive, he has to remind himself. She is still there. They still have more time to share.

“Astarion,” she murmurs.

“What is it, wild girl?”

“You have been quite an adventure.”

He squeezes her fingers.

“And you have been everything, my love. Come here.”

Now it’s Tiriel’s turn to sit as he washes her back and hair. He tries to be as gentle as possible, savoring every second she is with him. Hells, he is supposed to be grateful that apart from some memory and hearing loss, she is still herself. She is still the same Tiriel he met at the shipwreck.

He doesn't know what he would do if she had developed dementia and forgotten him.

“Tiriel, did Alethaine really tell you she was going to have a daughter in the future?”

“Ughm. Mentioning it from time to time. Not ‘if’ but ‘when’.”

Astarion helps Tiriel to get out of the bath and carries her to the bedroom. The sun shines behind the thick curtains and the half-elf looks at the window.

“Do you mind if I go for a walk?” She asks.

“As long as you are happy,” Astarion kisses her cheek but feels a wave of anxiety. What if she feels sick? What if she falls? What if…

She probably has noticed his change of mood and touches his cheek.

“I changed my mind. I will just sit in the yard, all right? And we will walk after sunset!”

He probably looks relieved because Tiriel laughs.

“You are so adorable when you take care of me. That’s why I love you”.

“Tiriel, I’ve been drinking your blood and crying on your chest disturbing your sleep for decades. This is the least I can do.”

She slaps his shoulder and they both laugh.

Then, she finds a blanket and her facial expression gets confused.

“Sorry… What did I…” She looks at him helplessly.

“You wanted to go outside and lie in the sun,” he gently reminds her.

“Oh… Yes… I did. I just forgot.” Tiriel takes the blanket in her hands.

Tiriel lies on the grass in the most sunny spot.

Astarion takes the chair and puts it close to the open door – enough for him to see the sun and Tiriel.

Maybe he can try to turn her into a vampire? It took him years to realize he was no longer a spawn but a true vampire. And even the weakest of true vampires can create a couple spawns (the rest of their victims stay in the ground even if they are dried out). He can…risk it. Take all her blood. Bury her lifeless body in the grave. Wait.

Wait till he hears movements below.

Then, dig Tiriel out and immediately let her drink his blood, breaking the master spawn bond.

They will live forever. They will stay together in the shadows. He will teach her to hunt, he will…

No.

Astarion is unsure if he can even do it and he won’t do this to his Tiriel. The life of a vampire is hell. It will be painful to become one, she will suffer from never-ending hunger and will never see the sun again. More than that, he will destroy her soul – like Cazador destroyed his.

Tiriel is mortal. She will stay so. He won’t doom her for what he is doomed himself.

The sun is setting and the stars slowly appear in the skies. Once the darkness falls onto the ground Astarion approaches a sleeping Tiriel and makes her sit in his arms. She blinks and then smiles.

“I dreamt that I was young again,” she whispers.

Astarion caresses her wrinkled cheek. “Was I in your dream?”

She nods. “You were mortal and we danced together under the sun. Your eyes were green and my hair was red. And then I realized it wasn’t the material plane. It was Arvandor.”

Astarion frowns. Arvandor is the native plane of elves, the home of Seldarine, and the place elven souls are destined to reach if the clerics and druids are correct. Non-elves can’t go there. And his own soul perished centuries ago, making Corellon’s realm forever out of reach for him.

“It was so real,” Tiriel adds. “What if I meet you again? What if I can go there and you, mortal, join me? And then we will dance together, young and alive again.”

Astarion kisses her forehead. “I hope we will, Tiriel.”

--- Read what happen next in Death, Worthy of a Barbarian ---

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jrob64 · 3 months

Text

Pet for Rent, Chapter 2/4 (The Idea)

A CS Modern AU Story

Thanks for joining me for chapter 2! Writing this story has been a bit therapeutic for me after losing my Zeke, and adopting Winston has been, too. I hope you'll stay with me for the rest of the story.

Shout out to @kmomof4 who sent Winston the ducky toy he has in the picture. His Aunt Krystal spoiled him with a welcome package the week we got him!

Thanks so much to @hookedmom. I'm lucky to have the best and most patient beta!

SUMMARY: Emma Swan tries to cheer up her heartbroken son by 'renting' a dog from the local animal shelter. When she attempts to do it a second time, she makes a mistake, and realizes the dog has been rented by someone else the same day - a very handsome man named Killian Jones.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Emma, Henry, Killian and Norman/Winston spend more time together. When Henry continues feeling sad about having to leave the dog at the animal shelter, Killian proposes an idea that might solve the problem.

RATING: M (for smut in the last chapter, which can easily be skipped if that's not your thing)

WORDS: 6821

ALSO POSTED TO Ao3 and FFN

Story begins under the cut

Emma didn’t think it was possible for four hours with a stranger to pass so quickly. Sooner than she expected, Killian was looking at his phone and announcing that it was time to return Norman to the shelter. It may have been her imagination, but it sounded like there was a note of wistfulness in his voice.

Henry took control of the dog on the walk back, giving the adults an opportunity to resume the conversation that had been ongoing throughout most of their time together. Emma watched her son handling Norman as he wandered from one side of the path to the other to explore in the tall grass and she commented, “Henry is gonna sleep good tonight.”

“I don’t doubt that. He told me he had his last game of the season this morning.”

“That, in addition to playing fetch and ‘keep away’ with Norman, and all of the running around he did with you, will have him zonking out early.” They walked on a few paces, before she added, “I want to thank you, Killian, for spending so much time with him. Since he doesn’t have a father, he doesn’t get a lot of one-on-one time with a man, so I really appreciate it.”

“It was my pleasure. He’s a good listener and a fast learner.”

“Yeah, I kinda wish he had more games left, so he could apply what you taught him. I’m afraid he’ll forget it by next season. You’re wonderful at teaching, and very patient.”

“Thank you, Emma. I truly did enjoy it.”

“The youth league is always begging for people to coach. Maybe you could do that next year.”

Killian looked thoughtful. “Perhaps I could, if I’m still here.”

“Any idea where would you go if you decide to leave?”

“Not really, but it wouldn’t be terribly far away. I want to stay close to Liam.”

When the shelter came into sight, Henry turned around and dragged Norman back to Emma and Killian. “I had fun today. Can we do this again?”

“I’ll have to check our schedule to see when we’ll have another chance to rent Norman,” Emma answered.

Henry shook his head. “No, I mean with Norman and Killian.”

“Oh, uh,” Emma stammered, glancing at Killian, who was scratching behind his ear. “I don’t know about that, kid. This was just an accident and Killian was nice enough to make the best of the situation.”

“But Mom, he had fun, too, didn’t you, Killian?”

“What did I tell you about putting him on the spot?”

“Sorry, Killian,” Henry apologized. “But it did seem like you were having fun.”

Killian reached forward to ruffle the boy’s hair. “It’s quite alright, lad, and you’re right - I had a very good time with you and your mother today. And Winston, of course.”

“You mean Norman,” Emma remarked.

“He still seems more like a Winston to me. Don’t you see the resemblance between him and England’s former Prime Minister?”

Emma took in the dog’s jutting lower jaw, drooping jowls and prominent forehead, and had to admit he did share some physical traits with Winston Churchill. “Yeah, now that you mention it, I do see it.”

“Anyway, at the risk of being too forward, it would be nice to have another day with you and your boy, if you’re amenable to that, Swan.”

Emma thought for a moment, then said, “Henry, why don’t you take Norman to the end of the path and give us a minute, okay?”

He started to protest, but seemed to think better of it. “Come on, Norman. Mom doesn’t want me to hear what she’s gonna say.”

Emma watched him go, her mouth agape over his comment. She heard Killian chuckle and turned to look at him.

“He’s quite a bright young man,” he laughed.

“Yeah, he’s getting too smart for his own good,” she agreed. “But he’s still a little boy and I’m a protective mom. I don’t want to promise him something that’s not going to happen, so if you’re not serious about doing this again…”

“I assure you, Emma,” he interrupted. “I wouldn’t dream of letting him down. If you’re willing to give me your contact information, I’ll send you some options and we can figure out a day that works.”

She eyed him critically for a few seconds, seeing nothing but sincerity in his expression. “I know Henry would really like that.”

“Only Henry?” he asked, quirking a brow.

She couldn’t help but smile. “I have to admit, I had a really good time today, too. So, um, to answer your question, I am, how did you say it, amenable to doing it again.”

His grin made her heart do a pleasant little flip. She made sure Henry and Norman were okay while waiting for Killian to pull out his phone and start a new contact. Once he did, he handed it to her so she could add her information.

After handing it back, they began walking again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him checking the phone screen. “It’s not a fake number, by the way,” she said.

“That’s good to know,” he returned with a smirk, while typing out a text to her so she would have his info. “Is that something you’ve done before?”

“Maybe,” she replied cryptically.

“In that case, I feel honored that you gave me the real thing.”

She giggled in response, giving him a slight nudge with her elbow as they reached the end of the path.

“What did you say, Mom?” Henry asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Killian and I are going to look at our schedules to find a day that works.”

“Yay!” Henry shouted. “How about next Saturday?”

“Calm down, kid. I told you we’re going to figure it out.”

They arrived at the shelter and Killian opened the door and held it for them. David was sitting at a desk behind the counter, tapping away at the computer keyboard. He looked up with a broad smile when they entered. “How did it go?”

“Good,” Emma replied. “Thank you for allowing us to borrow Norman for the day.”

David looked between the two adults standing before him, obviously wanting more details. “Did you…all of you…get along okay?”

“Yes we did, Dave,” Killian said smugly.

There were several seconds when all they could hear was the barking of some of the dogs in the back. Finally, David sighed. “Alright, I guess I’ll just take Norman back to his cage, then.”

“Oh, uh,” Emma said, giving Killian a wink, “one of us will be in touch to schedule another day for us…all of us…to rent Norman again.”

David’s grin told them he knew exactly what that meant.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

“I hear you met my future brother-in-law,” Belle said. It was Monday, and Emma had stopped at the library to return a couple of books and choose some more before her shift at the sheriff’s station.

“News travels fast.”

“Killian always eats lunch with us after church. He told us about the mix-up at the animal shelter and said he had a great time with you and Henry.”

“He seems like a nice guy,” Emma said, moving to a shelf and studying the books more closely than necessary.

“He thinks very highly of you, too.”

Emma shot her a brief glance. “Oh, yeah? What did he say?”

“Well,” Belle began, clearly struggling to be non-chalant, “he said you were very easy to talk to and he enjoyed your sense of humor. He also said he had fun helping Henry with his soccer skills.”

“He was really good with Henry and I, um, I liked talking to him, too. He’s supposed to contact me to figure out another time to rent Norman together. Henry asked if we could.”

“I don’t suppose you protested too much, did you?”

Emma chose a book off of the shelf and studiously perused the summary on the back. “You know I want my kid to be happy.”

Belle crossed the space between them and laid her hand over the book, garnering Emma’s full attention. “To the best of my knowledge, you’ve never once introduced your son to a man you may be interested in dating in all the years I’ve known you.”

“Wait a second…first of all, I didn’t introduce him to Henry - we met accidentally, and secondly, who says I’m interested in dating him? We’re simply planning to rent Norman together again. It’s really not a big deal, Belle.”

“If you say so, but I have to tell you that I’ve never seen Killian so animated while talking about someone. You certainly made an impression on him.”

“I’m sure I did. Dressed in old sweatpants and a hoodie, no makeup, hair a complete disaster - I was a mess.”

“He didn’t mention that. He just talked about how he enjoyed the time he spent with you and how much he’s looking forward to seeing you again.”

Emma could feel her face heating and knew she must be as red as the leather jacket she was wearing. She wasn’t ready to admit that she was just as eager to see him again, too.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

That evening, Emma had just finished checking over Henry’s homework and shooed him off to the shower, when her phone dinged with an incoming text. Picking it up from the kitchen counter, she couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face upon seeing Killian’s name.

K: I’m hoping this message reaches Emma Swan. If I’ve reached someone else, you can blame it on her. It was followed by a smirking emoji.

She shook her head at his ridiculousness, and decided to play along.

E: I’m afraid you’ve been misled. This Emma Swan must be a horrible person. She added a winking emoji.

It took a few seconds for the three bubbles to pop up, then she laughed out loud when she read his reply.

K: Oh, she is a terrible, awful person to give me a fake number.

E: She’s probably not used to giving out her number to random men who just happened to rent the same dog she did.

K: That seems to be a plausible excuse. Perhaps I should forgive her.

E: Oh, you most definitely should.

K: Very well. If I’m ever fortunate enough to see her again, I shall grant her my forgiveness.

E: That’s very gentlemanly of you.

K: I’m always a gentleman.

Emma heard the clothes hamper lid slam in the bathroom, signifying that Henry was finished with his shower.

E: I need to get Henry into bed. I’ll be back in twenty minutes or so, depending on how resistant he decides to be tonight.

K: Tell him I said goodnight.

E: That will probably get him all excited and it may be longer than twenty minutes.

K: I’m willing to wait.

Emma left her phone on the sofa and went to Henry’s bedroom, where he was getting settled under the covers. Sitting on the edge of his bed, she brushed his damp bangs away from his forehead.

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“You ask me that every night.”

“Yes, and half the time you’ve neglected to do it.”

“I just have to brush them again in the morning.”

Emma raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you, or didn’t you?”

He sighed dramatically. “I did. Wanna smell my breath to make sure?”

“Not particularly. I believe you. Ready to say your prayers?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Name three things of thanks,” she said, initiating their nightly tradition.

Henry tapped his chin in thought. “I scored two goals at recess.”

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah, I used what Killian taught me. Oh! That’s my second thing - meeting Killian.”

“Actually, he texted me while you were in the shower.”

“He did? Did he say when we can rent Norman together again?”

“We haven't had a chance to discuss it yet. He did say to tell you goodnight.”

“Tell him I said goodnight to him, too.”

“I will. What’s your third thing?”

“Umm…we changed seats in class and now I’m sitting beside Avery.”

“Just make sure the two of you don’t get into trouble for talking too much.”

“We won’t.”

“Good. Now, what three things do you want to ask of God?”

“To help me do good on my math test tomorrow, to send me another dog, and to let us see Killian again soon.”

They both folded their hands and closed their eyes while Henry said his prayers. When he finished, Emma read him a chapter of Fantastic Mr. Fox, kissed him goodnight and left his room, turning off the light on her way out.

Picking her phone up from her couch, she scrolled through the text conversation with Killian, smiling at the light banter they shared.

E: I’m back.

When a response didn’t come through for a couple of minutes, she went to her bedroom to change into her pajamas. Then she brushed her teeth, washed her face, and applied moisturizer.

When she went back into the living room, she saw a new message on her phone.

K: Is it okay if I call you? I’m not fond of texting.

She noticed that the time stamp was right after she put her phone down, over ten minutes ago. Instead of answering, she brought up his contact and hit the call button.

“Hello, Swan.”

“Hey, sorry if I kept you waiting.”

“I was hoping I didn’t upset you by asking to call.”

“No, nothing like that. I just decided to do my nighttime routine,” Emma explained. “Henry said to tell you goodnight, by the way. I always ask him to tell me three things he’s thankful for from his day, and you were involved in two of them.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. He scored two goals playing soccer today at recess, because of what you taught him, and he was thankful for meeting you. That’s the third night in a row he’s said that one.”

“That’s very kind of him to say.”

“Well, you made quite an impression on him and he’s eager to see you again. Speaking of which, what does your schedule look like for the next few weeks?”

“It’s wide open, actually. Do Saturdays work best for you?”

“Yeah, because Henry is in school during the week and I work until five every day. I also work one Saturday a month. This coming Saturday is the one I work this month.”

“How about the following week?”

She switched him to speaker and pulled up her calendar app. “That looks good. Henry gets a haircut that morning at nine, but we could meet after that. The weather is going to start getting too cold if we wait much longer.”

“Liam has been telling me to be prepared for a cold winter. He says Maine is quite a bit colder than England during the winter months,” he stated. “Shall we make plans for that day, then?”

“Sounds good to me. Want to meet at the shelter at ten-thirty?”

“Actually,” Killian began, then paused for a few moments before clearing his throat and continuing. “I was wondering if you would agree to me picking up the two of you to go to the shelter together.”

Emma bit her lip, considering his offer. Her gut instinct was to decline because it would seem too much like a date, but her practical side said it was logical for them to make the twenty minute drive together.

She knew he was waiting for her answer and was probably having second thoughts about asking, since she was taking so long. “Um, sure, that would be fine,” she finally said. “I’ll text my address to you.”

“Okay, good. Shall we say ten o’clock? Will that give you enough time for Henry’s haircut?”

“Yeah. It only takes about twenty minutes, if that long. His barber is Jefferson and he’s pretty fast.”

“Liam recommended him and I had an appointment there a couple of weeks ago. He is fast, if a little…quirky.”

“Oh, you mean because he wears the top hat? I guess he’s trying to live up to the name of his shop.”

“Just naming his shop the Mad Hatter of Hair makes him sound a bit eccentric.”

Emma laughed. “He’s harmless, though. His daughter Grace is in Henry’s class and she’s very sweet. Jefferson is raising her by himself. His wife passed away before Grace started kindergarten.”

“How sad. Now I feel bad for judging him.”

“I wouldn’t say you were judging him, just making an accurate observation. I knew him before his wife died and he was every bit as quirky as he is now.”

They continued talking for another twenty minutes. Just like the day they met, the conversation didn’t lag at all as they transitioned easily from one subject to another. Before they ended the call, Killian asked if it would be alright to call her again later in the week and she agreed without hesitation.

Lying in bed that night, Emma smiled dreamily as she replayed their conversation in her mind. She may be venturing into self-imposed forbidden territory ever since Henry’s father abandoned her, but Killian Jones intrigued her and she couldn’t find it within herself to care.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Killian called Emma four more times over the next two weeks. Their conversations lasted longer each time, until they spent over an hour talking and laughing on Thursday, before their scheduled outing.

He suggested that they take Norman back to Storybrooke’s nature preserve after picking him up, which she thought was a great idea. She mentioned that she and Henry spent quite a bit of time there during the summer, hiking the trails and wading in the creek. Despite intending to visit, Killian hadn’t been able to get there yet and was happy to know his first time would be with Emma, Henry and Norman.

Saturday morning found him taking more time than usual to get ready. He chided himself for being a bit vain, but wanted to make the extra effort for the lovely lady Swan. If things went well, he was planning to ask her out on a proper date.

He had confided his intention to Belle, hoping she would give him advice about where to take Emma, should she agree. Not only did his future sister-in-law present him with recommendations, she also mentioned that she would be happy to watch Henry, and was sure Liam would, too.

Once Killian was satisfied with his appearance, he tried to occupy himself until it was time to drive to Emma and Henry’s house. After going online and paying some bills, washing the few dishes in the sink and sorting his laundry, he still had about twenty minutes left.

His heart sank when he heard the notification for an incoming text, thinking it might be Emma cancelling their plans. He was relieved, then a little apprehensive to see it was from his brother. Belle promised she wouldn’t say anything to Liam about his plans to ask Emma on a date, but they were an engaged couple and couples weren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other. Unfortunately, his former girlfriend hadn’t abided by that rule, since she kept one whopper of a secret from him.

L: Any plans for this afternoon, little brother?

Killian dropped his head back with a sigh. Not only did Liam insist on calling him that irritating moniker, now he had to explain that he did indeed have plans. He was sure he would have to answer questions about what they were and with whom, since he rarely did anything on the weekends.

K: Actually, I do.

L: Oh, really? What are you doing?

K: I’m renting Winston from the shelter again.

L: Great! Belle is working today. Would you mind if I came over to see the little guy?

Killian’s thumbs hovered over his screen, trying to decide how to tell his brother no without sounding rude. Even though Liam was acquainted with Emma, he tended to be over protective, and Killian didn’t want him giving her the third degree or making her feel uncomfortable. Plus, he selfishly wanted to spend time alone with her and Henry.

Glancing at the clock, he saw it was almost time for him to leave. Quickly, he typed a message he was hoping would appease Liam.

K: Sorry, not this time. Emma, Henry and I made plans to spend another day together with him.

As he pulled on his jacket, he heard another notification. Closing his eyes momentarily, he opened them to read Liam’s message, then released a relieved breath.

L: I hope the four of you have a good time, so I can see that look of happiness on your face again.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

“Henry, Killian’s here!” Emma announced, dropping the curtain after seeing his car pull up to the curb.

“Coming!” she heard him yell in response.

She quickly ducked into the bathroom and inspected her appearance in the mirror one more time. She hoped to make a better impression on Killian by applying light makeup and pulling her hair back into a neat ponytail. Her outfit was simple - jeans, sneakers, her favorite light blue blouse, and red leather jacket.

The doorbell rang as she re-entered the living room, but before she could get to the door, Henry sped past her to pull it open. “Hey, Killian!” he said excitedly.

“Hello, lad,” Killian answered, then shifted his eyes from Henry to Emma. She saw him swallow before giving her one of his winning smiles. “Good morning, Emma.”

“Hi, Killian. You’re right on time.”

“Not being prompt is bad form, Swan.” Looking at Henry again, he stated, “Your haircut makes you look a bit older.”

Henry reached up to run both hands along the sides of his head. “Do you really think so?”

“Aye, at least a year or two.”

“Please don’t say that,” Emma said, handing Henry his jacket. “He’s growing up way too fast as it is.”

During the drive to the shelter, Henry talked about one thing after another. Emma wondered if Killian would tire of her son’s constant chatter, but his questions at regular intervals proved he was fully engaged in what Henry had to say.

Meanwhile, she spent the time admiring the man beside her. He was dressed in dark, stonewashed jeans, an army green button-down shirt, and the same black leather jacket he wore the first time they met. His scruff was neatly trimmed and his dark hair artfully combed. His rich laugh at some of Henry’s comments was a sound she was sure she would never get tired of hearing.

When they entered the shelter, David gave them a smug smile that Emma tried to ignore. She knew he was probably patting himself on the back for his matchmaking, but she really didn’t mind, because meeting Killian was, so far, a positive experience.

Norman was extremely excited to see them again, and after everyone got into the car, they were on their way back to Storybrooke. Henry was preoccupied with Norman in the back seat, so the adults finally had a chance to chat with each other. Their conversation was as free-flowing as it had been every other time they spoke in the past two weeks. Emma had never met anyone so easy to talk to, and wondered if it was because their backgrounds were so similar.

During their earlier phone conversations, she learned his father had abandoned his family when Killian and Liam were little, leaving their mother to raise them alone. She shared how she was abandoned at a fire station baby box when she was less than a week old, and had never been adopted. They both had been in situations where they were deceived and misled by the person they loved. Emma came to realize that being able to empathize with someone else made it easier to connect with them, just as she had with Killian.

The crisp autumn weather was perfect for hiking at the nature preserve. They explored all of the available paths and walked along the shores of the creek. The water was too chilly for wading, but Norman enjoyed splashing in now and then when he spotted a particularly intriguing leaf, bug or stick.

After hiking for a couple of hours, they took a break to drink Gatorade and snack on protein bars, thoughtfully packed by Killian. He also had treats for Norman, which Henry used to try and teach the dog again how to sit on command.

They stayed until the last possible minute before getting into the car for the drive back to the shelter. No one spoke for several miles, until Henry finally said, “I really wish we didn’t have to take Norman back there. He’s always so sad. Why can’t we just adopt him, Mom?”

Emma glanced over at Killian, who met her eyes for a second before directing his back to the road. “I wish we could, but it wouldn’t really be fair to Norman. We’re both gone all day and he would have to be penned up that whole time.”

“But he loves us and we love him!” Henry exclaimed. “Ernie didn’t have to be penned up and he was fine during the day.”

Emma turned to look at her son. “I know, kid, but it was easy with Ernie. He was with us for several years and was older. Norman is young and full of energy, so he’s going to need a lot more attention and training. I wouldn’t trust him being in the house all day by himself.”

Henry heaved a huge sigh. “Okay.”

They were all silent for the rest of the drive. Emma saw Killian look at her out of the corner of his eye once in a while, but they didn’t carry on a conversation. She spent the time thinking about the practicality of adopting Norman, but knew she would have to stick to her guns, because it just wouldn’t be fair to the rambunctious dog to be cooped up all day.

When they reached the shelter and exited the car, Killian slowed Emma down by placing a hand on her arm, while Henry entered the building with Norman. “Emma, I’ve been giving it some thought and I have an idea, if you’re open to it.”

She shrugged slightly. “Sure, let’s hear it.”

“Perhaps, if you adopted Win-, er, Norman, I could keep him during the day while you’re at work and school. I could pick him up in the morning before you leave and drop him off after you get home.”

“Sort of like shared custody or dog sitting?” she asked, turning to face him.

He chuckled. “Aye, something like that, I suppose.”

“I don’t know, Killian. That seems like a pretty big commitment between people who barely know each other. You’re not even sure you’re going to stay in Storybrooke.”

He scratched behind his ear. “If I move, it won’t be for a while, since I signed a six month lease on my apartment. That would give us time to train the dog. I know we’ve just met, but I…I’ve enjoyed getting to know you and your boy. I’m hoping this is just the beginning of our friendship.”

Emma stuck her hands in the back pocket of her jeans and rocked back on her heels. “I hope so, too, but I’m still not sure about the arrangement you’re suggesting.”

“I completely understand,” he said, then paused before asking, “Are you counting it out altogether, or will you consider it?”

She pulled her lip between her teeth in thought for a few seconds. “I’ll consider it,” she finally answered.

He gave her a small smile, then moved to open the door for her.

They went inside to see Henry sitting cross-legged on the floor with Norman, the dog’s head resting on his leg. David was listening to the boy give him a detailed description of their day at the nature preserve and looked up to give them a big grin. “Sounds like you had quite the adventure today.”

“Aye, we all had quite a workout,” Killian responded. “It’s quite a lovely place.”

“Yeah, we’re lucky to have it in Storybrooke,” David said. “Mary Margaret takes her class there on a field trip every year.”

Henry’s head whipped around. “Mrs. Nolan didn’t take our class!”

“It’s early in the school year,” Emma said. “I’m sure she’ll take you sometime.”

“They usually go in the spring,” David explained, as he walked around the end of the counter. “Are you ready for me to take Norman?”

“No,” Henry said, his voice muffled as he buried his face in the dog’s neck.

The three adults exchanged understanding looks. They gave the boy a couple more minutes, before Emma picked up the end of the leash and put her hand on Henry’s head. “It’s time to say goodbye to him, kid.”

Henry drew back to look at Norman. “Goodbye, boy. I’m gonna miss you.” He kissed the dog on top of the head and rubbed his ears.

Emma reached down to pet the dog, then handed the leash to David. Killian stood beside her to pat Norman, too, telling him to be a good boy.

David bid them all goodbye, then headed to the back with the dog reluctantly following him. Henry looked up at Emma from where he still sat on the floor. “Mom…”

“Henry, don’t say it. I already told you why it’s not a good idea to adopt him right now.”

“Right now? Does that mean we can adopt him later?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Emma replied, giving him her patented ‘don’t push it’ look. “Let’s go, kid.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Henry pushed himself to his feet and followed her out the door Killian was holding open. Once they were in the car and on their way to Storybrooke, Killian asked, “Would you, um, would the two of you like to get a late lunch at Granny’s, when we get back?”

“What do you think, Henry?” Emma threw over her shoulder.

He turned from where he had been glumly staring out the window. “Can I get a cheeseburger and fries?”

“Sure.”

“And a chocolate milkshake?” When his mom didn’t answer immediately, he added, “Please? It’ll make me less sad about Norman.”

Killian chuckled lowly as Emma rolled her eyes, muttering, “I’m raising a con artist.”

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Killian mentally kicked himself the whole way back into town. What was he thinking, asking Emma to agree to what was basically a long term commitment? He probably ruined his chance for asking her out on a date, too. He was sure she would think he was coming on too strong, if he did.

At least she agreed to have lunch with him. Hopefully, she would also allow him to continue calling her. Those phone calls and the texts they shared were always the highlight of his week.

As much as he enjoyed his time with Emma, having Henry with them made it even better. Killian hadn’t had a lot of interaction with children, but it was easy being around Emma’s son. He was bright, articulate and funny - very much like his mother. He was also respectful and well-mannered.

On the day they met, Emma confided to him that she was afraid she was making a lot of mistakes as a single mom, who never had a mother of her own to set an example, but he strongly disagreed. She wasn’t perfect - no parent was, but Henry seemed to be well-adjusted and confident, so she was obviously doing many things right.

Killian saw how much Henry loved the dog and wished he could help make the boy’s desire to adopt him come true, which is why he made the offer. He had come to love the furry little rascal, too, and would seriously consider adopting Norman himself. He just didn’t know if he could take the dog with him if he decided to move away from Storybrooke.

He pulled up in front of Granny’s, cut the engine, unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, as he heard Emma and Henry do the same. Typical of a young boy, Henry took off running and was already skipping up the steps to the front door by the time Killian reached Emma’s side.

“He’s pretty excited,” Emma explained. “Eating out is kind of a treat because we don’t do it very often.”

“I hope I wasn’t out of line for asking,” Killian said.

“No, not at all. It really perked him up.”

Killian halted at the bottom of the steps, causing Emma to stop and look at him. “I also hope I didn’t upset you by making the offer to watch Norman.”

“You didn’t,” she assured him. “I’m definitely going to think about it. I really miss having a dog around, too. I just have to weigh all the pros and cons.”

He smiled and nodded his understanding, then bounded up the steps to open the door. Henry was at the counter talking animatedly to Ruby, who looked up and gaped at Emma in surprise.

“Hey, girl! I didn’t realize you knew the very handsome new guy in town!”

Killian could feel his ears turning red, when Emma glanced at him before replying. “Hi, Ruby. Actually, we met by accident a couple of weeks ago.”

“By accident, huh? Did you hit him with your car or something?”

“Nothing like that. We were both renting the same dog at the animal shelter.”

“Was seeing him today another accident?”

Emma put her hands on her hips. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. It was planned this time.”

Killian wasn’t sure he had ever seen such a wide grin on the waitress’s face. They all gave Ruby their drink order, then Emma ushered Henry to a booth and Killian slid in across from them.

“Are you getting lasagna?” she asked.

“I think I’m going to try the grilled cheese and onion rings. Someone recommended them to me,” he smirked.

“Very intelligent person,” Emma grinned.

“Aye, that she is.”

Ruby arrived at their table with their drinks and Henry’s milkshake. She gave Emma and Killian another broad smile when she took down their identical orders. “His and hers grilled cheeses, huh? Maybe there’s some truth to the saying that couples begin to eat alike.”

Emma sighed and rolled her eyes. “I think the saying is that couples start to look alike, and we aren’t a couple. We’re just friends.”

“I see,” Ruby said, glancing at Henry, who was busy spooning the thick milkshake into his mouth. “Well, they do say there are benefits to being friends.” She gave them an exaggerated wink, then turned and made her way to the kitchen.

“Ruby isn’t exactly the epitome of subtlety,” Emma said, a blush filling her cheeks with color.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

“It was nice of Killian to take us to Granny’s today,” Henry said, as he was climbing into bed that night.

“Yes, it was. I was very proud of you for remembering to thank him without needing a reminder.”

“Thanks for letting me get a milkshake, even if it didn’t make me stop feeling sad about not being able to adopt Norman.”

Emma tucked the covers around his shoulders. “I know, but try not to think about it.”

“I can’t,” Henry pouted. “He’s probably crying himself to sleep tonight.”

“I think he’s probably going to sleep remembering all of the fun we had today.”

Henry stubbornly shook his head. “Nuh-uh. He’s wondering why we didn’t bring him home with us.”

“Henry,” Emma sighed, “I know you’re sad, but we just can’t…”

“I know,” he interrupted, “you keep saying it wouldn’t be fair for him to be alone all day, but he’s already alone at the shelter all day, except for Mr. Nolan, and at night, there’s nobody there at all.”

“There’s other dogs and cats…”

“That’s not the same. They’re all in cages by themselves. If we adopted him, he could sleep on my bed, like Ernie did.”

Knowing she was going around in circles with him, Emma reached over and picked up the book from his nightstand. “How about if you say your prayers after I read to you tonight?”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, he said, “Fine, but it’s not gonna make me forget about Norman.”

After reading to him for fifteen minutes, hearing his prayers - which mentioned Norman and Killian several times - and kissing him goodnight, she left his room. Heading into her own bedroom, she went through her nightly routine automatically, lost in thought.

Once she was in her pajamas, free of make-up and teeth brushed, she peeked in on her son to find him sound asleep. She made sure the front door was deadbolted, turned off the lights in the kitchen and living room and went back into her room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she stared at the phone in her hand, mind racing.

Finally, she pulled up Killian’s contact and hit the call button.

She was almost ready to hang up after it rang four times, not wanting it to go to voicemail, when he answered. “Hello, Swan. I wasn’t expecting to talk to you again so soon.”

“I hope I’m not calling too late.”

“Not at all. What’s on your mind?”

“Henry was still upset about Norman before he went to sleep. I feel like I’m being selfish by not allowing him to get a dog.”

“Why do you feel that way?”

“Because one of my excuses is that a dog is a lot of work and would need training, which it would. I’m making it seem like all the work would fall on me. Now, I know Henry is only eight, but I think he’s pretty responsible for his age.”

“From what I’ve seen, I would agree with that,” Killian cut in.

“Thank you. Anyway, I think he would be able to help train and take care of the dog, so that excuse is out the window. The other big concern I had is that the dog would have to be home by himself all day, which brings me to the reason I’m calling. I’ve been seriously considering your offer, if it’s still on the table.”

“It is.”

“Are you sure that’s not asking too much of you? I mean, you’re home during the day, but you’re working. How would you be able to take care of him?”

“I’ve had him here with me a few times already and he makes himself right at home. He’s housebroken and doesn’t demand too much attention. If he starts getting restless, I take him outside and play with him for a while. That works with my schedule because I have to take breaks now and then, when I’ve been staring at the computer screen for too long.”

She blew out a long breath. “What if it turns out to be too big of a commitment? We’ve spent some time together and have done a lot of talking to get to know each other, but we’re still basically strangers.”

“Well actually…” Killian began, then paused for several moments before continuing, “I was hoping to have an opportunity to ask you something today, but the right moment never presented itself.”

Emma’s heart began to beat faster in anticipation of what she suspected he might ask. “What did you want to ask?”

“Would you, um…would you consider going out with me?”

Standing up to pace back and forth between her bed and dresser, she chewed her lip in contemplation. She could literally count how many dates she’d had since Henry’s birth on one hand. She only went on those dates to appease Ruby, who was convinced Emma’s Mr. Right was out there somewhere, but she hadn’t been attracted to any of the men.

She couldn’t say the same about Killian. From the time she laid eyes on him, she felt an attraction that only got stronger the more she got to know him. He seemed to be the total package - kind, intelligent, considerate, and insanely hot.

“What happens if we adopt Norman, then go out with each other and realize we’re not compatible?”

“If you adopt him, I would keep my commitment to help take care of him, even if we decide dating doesn’t work for us. You have my word, Emma.”

She came to a halt at the end of her bed and turned to face the mirror above her dresser. For eight years, Henry had been her number one priority and always would be, but maybe it was time for her to do something for herself. Could that something be going out with Killian Jones?

She was so deep in thought, she didn’t realize how long she had been standing there considering her answer. When Killian finally spoke, his quiet voice startled her. “What do you say, Swan?”

“Yes, Killian. I will go out with you.”

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

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#pet for rent #chapter update #chapter 2 #jrob64 #art by jrob64 #csff #cs fluff #cs smut #CS modern AU #Captain cobra #ouat Captain Swan fanfic

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allmoshnobrain · 3 months

Text

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 33 of 35 | masterpost

word count: 2597 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

I could feel his heart tapping against my fingertips, a bit quicker now, a subtle blush coloring his cheeks. His blonde eyelashes looked almost see-through in the sunlight, his blue eyes sparkling and locked onto mine, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. I brought my hands up to his face, running my fingers over it slowly. He let out a sigh, lightly shutting his eyes like he'd been waiting for my touch his whole life.

✦ on this chapter: dave mustaine x female!oc, james hetfield x female! oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, romance

✦ a/n: Hi, everyone! I posted this chapter a little later than usual because I was too busy today, but it's here! Sorry for the delay. Also, some of you may have already seen this, but: I missed writing about Dave and Nore happy together a lot these last few days, so I posted a small extra chapter set somewhere between chapters 16 and 17 for all my Dave and Nore enjoyers 🖤 You can read it here. Hope you liked reading, feedback is welcome!

✧ you don't have to leave, you could just stay here, with me / forget all the party police, we could find comfort in debauchery ✧

“I should've been there with you,” James's voice, annoyed and concerned, crackled through the phone pressed to my ear. “You shouldn't have dealt with this on your own. I should've been right there beside you.”

“James, it's alright,” I mumbled, sparking a cigarette, propping myself against the payphone stand. It was late afternoon, and I’d dialed James to tell him all about my disastrous mission in Los Angeles. If I wasn't in tears at the moment, it was only because I'd already exhausted my supply in the hours before.

“Of course, it's not okay!” he burst out, matching my frustration. “Did you check with the neighbors? Wasn't there some dude you knew living downstairs?”

“Yeah, Ellefson. He bailed too. Apparently, they moved out together last week. Left no trace for anyone to follow,” I finished the sentence with a tremor in my voice, eyes burning with fresh tears, but I wasn't going to break down now. Not while James was on the line, his concern clear in every word he spoke.

“Fuck. What a mess,” he muttered. “Hey, it's gonna be alright. I think I've got his mom's address; I can try reaching out to her. We'll find him, Nore.”

“Thanks, James,” I said, feeling a bit better knowing that even if the day had turned to crap, he still had my back.

“I'm sorry about all this Pat shit. Had no clue she'd pull a stunt like that.”

“It's fine…”

“No, Nore, it's not. You know, you said the right thing to her. I never want to see that girl again. But I can hop over to Los Angeles if it means making her apologize to you,” he declared, his voice carrying a slightly menacing edge that hinted he might have wanted to go beyond a simple apology.

“James, you really don't have to do that. It'd be just playing into her drama,” I let out a heavy sigh. “All I want is to find Dave and sort this mess out once and for all.”

“We'll track him down, Nore. I promise. Everything's gonna be fine,” James tried to assure me, and I managed a small smile. There was something kinda sweet about how he was going all out to cheer me up, genuinely putting in the effort to help me out, just because it'd make me happy.

James was just impossible not to like.

“I know, Jamie,” I replied, letting the warmth of my smile show in my voice. “Thank you.”

The rest of February breezed by quickly; I suddenly realized that the one-year anniversary of my move to San Francisco had quietly passed. It seemed pretty wild how everything that had unfolded in the last few months had managed to cram into a year, shaping me in more ways than I could express. It was like I'd been a part of the boys’ life forever, like I couldn’t quite picture who I was without them in the frame.

March rolled in, bringing the end of winter closer and closer. As the days lit up and warmed, James and I kept our long-distance communication going. The phone calls from San Francisco to Long Beach, initially a bit spaced out, soon became almost a daily ritual, and I found myself eagerly anticipating those moments in an entirely new way. Sweet words of affection began to find their way into our conversations more frequently. I had to admit, I missed James more than I'd care to confess — not just the tour moments but also his touch, the sound of his voice and laughter, the blue in his eyes, and even the warmth of his kisses and the feel of his body against mine.

Being back at my parents' house had its perks: with no job on my plate and studies yet to kick in, I found myself drowning in free time. I dedicated most of it to diving into my studies and building up a solid portfolio in visual arts, gearing up for the application grind at the San Francisco Art Institute. The prospect of being in the same city as Cliff and the guys again had me stoked, but in a genuinely good way — I could barely contain my excitement for things to click into place.

Another thing gobbling up my time was my newfound camaraderie with Charlotte, one of my old high school friends. She’d been pouring her heart into her debut starring role in a theatre play, and I'd been chipping in as an unofficial production assistant, giving me a reason to hang out with her and break free from my parents’ house for a bit. On a bright Wednesday morning, the moment I stepped into the auditorium where the theater troupe was fine-tuning their craft, Charlotte threw me a curveball with an unexpected ask.

“Nore!” she squealed with excitement upon spotting me, rushing over and grabbing my hands in hers. Her green eyes looked almost teary, and her lips formed a small pout. “Thank goodness you're here. Everything's going haywire today, and I'm not sure if we can sort it out!”

“What’s going on, Charlie?” I inquired, intrigued, as I shrugged off my jacket, tossing it onto one of the chairs in the vacant audience area. “Did the dressing room light decide to bail on us again? You know I'm useless with those things.”

“Of course not!” she retorted, indignant, and I released a low chuckle.

“Just pulling your leg. What's up?”

“I need you to act in the play.”

I blinked, puzzled, furrowing my brow as I crossed my arms.

“You... Hold on, what? Charlie, the play is in two weeks.”

“I know!” she sighed, slumping into one of the chairs, defeated. “Why do you think I'm so desperate? One of the actresses can't perform anymore. And now the director wants to cancel the play because we won't be able to find a replacement on time!”

“And you want me to step in.”

“Yeah!”

“In a play that's premiering in fifteen days?”

“Nore, you've always been fantastic in our school's Drama Club…”

“No way, Charlie! How am I supposed to pull that off?”

“Nore, please, please, please?” she clasped my hand in hers, her eyes pleading. “It's my first lead role, I've been rehearsing for months! I promise to help you with the lines, I'll do anything!”

I sighed, resigned.

“Fine. But you owe me one,” I replied, and she let out an excited squeal before hugging me.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! You won't regret it, I promise!”

Well, she was right — I didn't regret it. Actually, practicing for the play turned out to be a lot more fun than I thought. Plus, scoring some free tickets to hand out to my friends and family made me care a bit less about the crazy deadline to cram all those lines into my brain. Charlie and I basically lived in that auditorium for the next few days; I'd roll in there in the morning and wouldn't bail until way into the evening.

When Saturday rolled around, I decided to escape to San Francisco. Stuff for the band was picking up speed after those European shows. After snagging a deal to record the second album at a studio in Denmark, the guys figured a bash was in order to toast to the good news, and obviously, I had to be there. I arranged with my parents to spend the weekend over at Cliff's place with the boys. Luckily, they had some San Francisco business on the horizon, and agreed to drop by and give me a ride back to Long Beach when it was time to head back home.

I let out a sigh as I hit the old house where I used to live with Cliff, Dave, James, and Lars. It was like nothing had changed, memories still stuck in every nook and cranny; the first chats with the guys, James getting less shy as we got tighter, my first kiss with Dave, the first time we slept together, drinking together, smoking together, laughing together, loving together. And it stung, a sharp and dry ache deep in my chest, with the gut feeling that things would never, ever be the same again.

I mixed with the crowd, strolling into the living room; the first familiar face I bumped into was James', whose eyes lit up seeing me, a grin breaking out. He hustled over, grabbing my face and planting a surprise kiss on my lips, leaving me gasping, my face heating up in a flash.

“James!” I blurted out, pupils dilated in shock as I took a step back.

“My bad. Was that a no-go?” he mumbled, a persistent grin suggesting he had no regrets about the kiss. “Just damn happy you showed up.”

“I’m happy to be here too,” I whispered, my face still warm from his gentle touch.

“Geez, you two are such a clingy couple,” Cliff chimed in, coming over. I blushed, pulling James's hands off my face and avoiding eye contact.

“We're not a couple, Cliff,” I muttered, voice low, his comment knotting something strange and uncomfortable in my chest. “Excuse me, I need a drink,” I spun around, heading for the kitchen.

“Nore, hold up,” Cliff tagged along, standing by my side as I raided the fridge for a beer. “What was that just now?”

“Nothing,” I grunted, popping the kitchen door open and stepping into the backyard. Cliff sighed but joined me, leaning against the porch railing.

“Nothing? Seriously? You're not gonna start keeping secrets from me now, after 19 years?” he came closer, tilting his head to be right in my line of sight, impossible to ignore. I sighed, rolling my eyes at his persistence. “Hey. You and James weren't, like, a thing or something?”

“It's not like that,” I grumbled. “It's just... There's just too much going on, Cliff...”

I told him everything then: how James and I had decided to give in to our feelings during the tour, how I’d tried to find Dave after coming back, how everything went wrong, and now I had no clue where he was. And maybe involving James in all this was a mistake because, frankly, with each passing day, I found myself liking him more while still stuck on my feelings for Dave.

“Well, that sucks,” he remarked after I spilled my story, prompting a nervous little laugh from me. “So, you do like James, then?”

“Of course I like him,” I replied, with a resigned sigh.

“You like him, and yet you were upset because he kissed you just now?” he pressed on, and I rolled my eyes.

“Cliff, it's not that simple…”

"No, I get it ain't," he said, sparking up a joint, taking a slow drag before locking eyes with me, dead serious. "I get you still love Dave. I get you're on this quest to find him, and I'm betting it's gonna happen, Nore. You and him, you'll cross paths again 'cause I know you're head over heels for the guy. I'm pretty damn sure you two will work things out. But..." He hesitated, and I shot him a puzzled look. Cliff usually had his words lined up tight. It wasn’t like him to be unsure about anything.

"But?" I prodded, curious. He let out a sigh.

"But things are changing at warp speed for us, Nore," He handed over the joint, and I grabbed it, taking a slow drag. "We're growing up, for crying out loud. I mean, we're about to cut an album in Europe, can you believe that? A year ago, who would've thought? Things are moving quick, do you really wanna skip the chance to catch some happiness along the way? You don't know when you'll stumble upon Dave. No idea how long it'll take to straighten things out with him. Are you gonna keep dodging happiness till then?"

"Cliff, what are you getting at?"

"What I'm getting at, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but fine, what I mean is maybe you should quit fighting what you feel for James. I mean, you liked him before, but let's be real, you rolled back from Europe completely in love with him, didn't you?"

In love. Those words set my face on fire, my heart doing a marathon, and a zillion butterflies doing somersaults in my stomach. My first instinct was to argue with Cliff, but deep down, he wasn't totally off, was he? If I already had a soft spot for James before, now it was more like a full-blown obsession. It felt like a hunger, like I needed him to fill some kind of void inside of me. And somehow, this crazy feeling coexisted with the love I held for Dave, for the empty space he’d left behind. Everything was so damn new that I could barely wrap my head around it, let alone figure out how to handle it.

"I'm not in love with him," I mumbled weakly, and Cliff chuckled, giving me a shoulder hug.

"You're a lousy liar, you know that?" he said, and I rolled my eyes.

"Hey," a familiar voice called, and I glanced up, blushing when I locked eyes with James, propped against the door frame with a beer in hand. "Nore, everything cool?"

"I'm gonna find Lea," Cliff announced, sidestepping and shooting me a suggestive look before leaving me solo with James. I watched him saunter away, feeling my face heat up, and then turned my attention to James, his blue eyes zeroed in on mine.

"You alright? Sorry about that kiss earlier. Didn't mean to upset you," he said, his voice low, stepping close enough for me to sense the heat of his body. His attentive eyes studied my face, as if trying to decode my feelings from my expression. I sighed, my heart racing in a totally new rhythm when he gently cupped my face, resting my hands on his chest as he leaned in.

"James," I murmured, my voice shaking, almost like I was saying his name for the first time. He gave me a slight smile, his gaze zeroing in on my slightly parted lips with poorly disguised desire.

"What?"

"I don't want you thinking I'm here with you just 'cause I haven't tracked down Dave yet."

"I'd never think that," he whispered, edging even closer.

"James," I murmured again, almost like a prayer, and the way I said his name seemed to light up something hungry in him. He yanked me closer, his mouth crashing onto mine with a deep, needy moan. I sighed, trembling, my fingers tangling in his hair as I surrendered to his kiss, the dawning realization that I couldn't resist him any longer.

Actually, that I didn't want to.

He backed off, peppering soft kisses on my lips before resting his forehead against mine. His hands clung to my waist, tugging me close enough for our bodies to touch.

"I think we should head to my room," he murmured, flashing a smile. I chuckled softly, throwing my arms around his neck, and pulled him into another kiss.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

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steddiealltheway · 1 year

Text

Part Five of Not-So-Secret Secret Admirer!!!!! Part One. Part Four. AO3 Link. (This chapter is longer than usual and slightly choppy as I'm getting back into writing sorry guys)

Five days later and Eddie is unbearably nervous. All he can think about is Steve and the dumb admirer stuff. It’s the most random things that remind Eddie of him – a pair of sunglasses at the gas station that he knows he would love, a new pop album that Eddie would absolutely despise while Steve would put it on blast, and then Wayne gets a craving for ice cream that reminds Eddie of the infamous Scoops Ahoy outfit that no one can get Steve to dig out of his closet.

Maybe if E.R. requests a picture of the outfit, then... no. He can’t have Steve and E.R. interacting any time soon. And how would he write that anyways? “Dear Steve,” Eddie mumbles under his breath on his drive to Family Video, “I happen to know that you used to work at Scoops Ahoy. I’ll reveal my identity in exchange for a picture of you in your work uniform.” Eddie shakes his head. At least he would have something to remember Steve by before he cuts him off forever after he finds out the truth.

But he won’t find out the truth. Or he’ll move on before then and Eddie will be able to mention it to him as some big joke.

The thought of Steve being with someone else nearly breaks Eddie’s heart, but it’s better than the thought of hurting Steve and losing him forever.

He pulls into the parking lot of Family Video and parks his van letting out a deep breath before opening his door. It feels wrong to walk in empty-handed, but it’s for the best.

The bell rings as he walks in and he immediately spots Robin at the counter looking horribly bored. A quick glance around and Eddie spots no customers or sign of Steve in the store. Robin perks up when Eddie makes eye contact with her and she opens her mouth with a deep breath, seemingly ready to yell to the back. Steve must be on his break.

Eddie waves his hands and shakes his head. He puts a finger to his lips which makes Robin furrow her brow, but she closes her mouth. Eddie rushes forward and whispers, “Abort mission.”

“Abort mission what?” Robin whispers back.

Eddie waves his hands in frustration. “Mission E.R. or secret admirer or whatever you want to call it.”

Robin's eyes widen slightly as she shakes her head. “No way!”

Eddie loudly shushes her and both of them look towards the break room. When there’s no sign of movement, Robin continues this time whispering, “There’s no way you can back out now. Steve will be absolutely devastated.”

“And imagine how much more he’ll be devastated when he realizes it was me the whole time.”

Robin glances back towards the door and leans closer to Eddie lowering her voice to a point where Eddie is surprised he’s even able to comprehend what she’s saying. “What if I told you that he wouldn’t be disappointed?”

Eddie pulls back and looks at her. He definitely heard that wrong.

“I’m serious! Just, trust me on this one!” Robin whispers.

Eddie shakes his head. There’s no way. “Did he tell you that he wouldn’t mind?” Eddie asks.

Robin’s mouth opens and closes. “Not exactly but trust me!”

“Robin, no. I can’t take that uncertainty and lose him forever. Just help me end this thing any way that’s possible. I can’t lie to him anymore,” Eddie backs up, hoping he can leave the conversation before Robin tries to give him false hope.

“Why do you think we’re magically scheduled every five days? It’s not for this dumb admirer, it’s for you,” Robin states looking unbearably serious.

Eddie shakes his head and makes his way to push open the door behind him when the door to the back room opens. He freezes as Steve walks out quickly, locks eyes with him, and breaks out into a smile. “I thought I heard your voice! Have something for me today?” Steve asks and walks past Robin to scale the counter.

Robin shoots Eddie a look that says, see? But Eddie shakes his head. He’s here for whatever his admirer got him.

Eddie holds up his hands and shows that they’re empty. “Nothing today, I was just leaving.”

Something about the look in Steve’s eyes makes him not move an inch. It’s heartbreaking, and he wishes he could escape as Steve inches closer and asks, “Is everything okay? Did I... did I do something wrong or...?” He trails off as he searches Eddie’s face for an explanation.

“I just couldn’t get in touch with them,” Eddie lies easily, regretting the false hope he’s giving Steve. But Steve doesn’t look relieved by the statement, just confused.

“Well, are you staying at least?” Steve asks, a bit of hope back in his eyes.

Eddie shakes his head trying to shake the false hope away, but he realizes he unintentionally answers Steve’s question. It’s for the best. He just needs some space from him.

“Wait, I have something for you before you go,” Steve says and races to the back.

When the door closes, Eddie looks back at Robin. “We have to end it.”

“We?” Robin asks.

“Eddie Robin. E.R. Our plan. Please, Robin.”

Robin looks at him for a moment and then quickly nods. “I’ll let you know what I come up with as soon as I can.”

The back door swings open and Steve emerges with a single red rose. Eddie walks to the counter slowly to meet Steve in the middle. He needs the barrier between them before he does something dumb like pull him into an embrace and confess the truth. His entire being just wants Steve in his arms again, but instead, he quickly accepts the rose and tries to ignore the feeling of his finger brushing against Steve’s.

“Steve the Romantic,” Eddie comments with a tight smile. “I’ll make sure to give this to them,” Eddie says, knowing it’ll just be added to the notes he wishes were written to him instead of E.R..

“Thank you, Eddie the Messenger,” Steve says with an equally tight smile but then he breaks into an actual smile. “Eddie the Messenger like Eddie Munson. EM.”

Eddie can see the moment Steve starts to process what he just said. Before he can see Steve potentially come to the realization that the one name he hasn’t thought of that starts with an E is his own, Eddie is racing out the door and to his van. He takes a deep breath and turns his music up loud enough to overpower his thoughts. Maybe the guilt will consume him entirely before Steve can come to the full realization.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Eddie lays on his bed listening to a Dio album while absentmindedly playing chords on his guitar trying to come up with a way to end things. It’s been hours and he’s still got about nothing. The best solution is finding someone to pretend to be his admirer and absolutely being horrible on their date to the point that Steve puts the thoughts about E.R. completely in his past. But that’s more deceiving that Eddie doesn’t want to put Steve through.

He hears a distant knocking on his trailer door and glances at the clock. Definitely not his uncle. Maybe it’s the kids coming to complain about something. He hangs his sweetheart back on the wall and pauses his tape. He catches sight of the rose lying on top of the notes Steve has given E.R. and slightly dies inside. Maybe one day...

Right, the person at his door. The steady pitter-patter of rain becomes noticeable as Eddie rushes towards the door.

He swings the door open and is met with the sight of Steve soaked to the bone with a hand on his hip while the other runs through his dripping hair. Eddie freezes. “Mind if I come in?” Steve asks.

Eddie backs out of the doorway and gestures for Steve to come inside. He watches as Steve stands in his living room glancing around for a few seconds with his hands on his hips. Eddie quickly picks up on how he’s shivering and grabs his hand. “Follow me,” Eddie says dragging him towards his room. As he digs through his drawers he jokes, “What did you do? Walk here or something?”

“I biked here,” Steve says and rushes to continue, “I would’ve driven here, but I couldn’t find my keys fast enough. I didn’t realize it was raining until I was halfway here.”

Eddie slowly turns with a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a pair of underwear in his hands. Steve is staring off at something, but he quickly turns to look away when he notices that Eddie is looking at him. Jumpy. “You don’t have to wear the underwear if that’s... weird or something. I just thought... wet underwear is never fun,” Eddie says awkwardly.

Steve nods and thanks him quietly. The tension in the room is almost suffocating. Eddie clears his throat. “I’ll leave you to get dressed, okay?”

As Eddie turns to leave, he feels Steve’s cold, wet hand latch around his wrist. “Just don’t run away, please?” Steve requests.

Eddie locks eyes with him and quickly nods saying, “Promise, I’ll even crack the door on the way out so you can hear me.” It’s a joke, but Steve seems to hold onto the idea as a form of comfort, so as Eddie leaves, he cracks the door a tiny bit.

Then, he paces. Because Steve Harrington, the one person he really wants to avoid right now, is standing in his room possibly putting on his underwear. And yeah, that kind of freaks Eddie out a bit. Kind of in an exciting way, but also in a holy shit, he needs to escape right now before he does anything stupid kind of way.

…And now he understands why Steve wanted the door cracked. Why is he here? Did he figure it out? If he knew, he would be more upset. Right?

“Eddie,” Steve’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts.

Eddie turns to him and lets out an involuntary high-pitched noise that is beyond embarrassing, but how else is he supposed to respond to Steve Harrington in his clothes?

“You alright?” Steve asks gently. Eddie nods because he honestly has no thoughts right now. Except maybe a few expletives. Christ, he’s glad he didn’t give Steve his Hellfire shirt, or he would be inconsolable.

“You look good,” Eddie chokes out.

Steve smiles and runs a hand through his still-wet hair, brushing it out of his eyes. “Probably would look better with a hair dryer,” Steve comments.

“You look perfect, Steve,” Eddie replies immediately before he can regret it. Steve flushes a light shade of red as the smile on his face grows. Eddie’s heart skips a beat, and he tries to recover. “Really though, I’m digging the wet dog look. Very metal.”

Steve snorts but doesn’t fully respond as he stares at the ground seemingly lost in thought.

Eddie slowly approaches him and asks, “Wanna tell me what’s going on in there?” He gently taps him on the forehead which makes Steve look up quick enough to give him whiplash. Eddie nearly curses under his breath at how beautiful Steve is this close to him. Which was exactly what he didn’t want to do. He needs to put space between them.

Eddie nearly takes a step back, but Steve’s eyes are locked with his and it feels like they’re making it impossible to move away. Being this close to him is dangerous but it’s a risk he’s willing to take.

Steve’s eyes narrow and Eddie feels somehow exposed. It’s like he’s searching for something, and then Steve asks, “Eddie are you...”

Eddie’s breath hitches as Steve’s mouth opens and closes as if he’s struggling to find the words. This cannot be happening, but maybe he knows. And this is it. “Steve-”

“Are you free tonight?” Steve asks. “I just... you seemed busy earlier, and I wanted to- to hang out.” It sounds false to Eddie’s ears, but there’s no way Steve actually knows. He probably just wants to pry some more information about his secret admirer from Eddie. That’s definitely it.

“Yeah,” Eddie says with a fake smile and finally steps back. This is about E.R. and not him. Of course that’s why Steve is there, he should’ve known this all along. “Want to watch a movie?” Eddie asks as he starts to make his way to the couch trying not to show Steve the dumb look of hurt on his face.

“Yeah,” Steve says sounding equal parts dejected and relieved.

Eddie puts a random tape in and sits on the edge of his couch to put some distance between him and Steve, but then his plan backfires when Steve sits directly next to him trapping Eddie. Time to prepare for the questions.

But Steve doesn’t say anything until the movie starts. He laughs, “This is the movie me and Robin saw when we were drugged by the Russians.”

“When you were what?”

Steve scoots closer and takes a deep breath. A few tense moments later, Steve finally starts, “So, my dad made me get a summer job...”

Eventually, Steve is fully going into the story that Eddie had only briefly heard about before, but Dustin had told him that Steve doesn’t like to talk about it with anyone . But even as Steve starts to get choked up about involving the kids and potentially endangering Dustin and Erica he continues on. The only difference is that he starts leaning more into Eddie and eventually rests his head on his shoulder and reaches out for Eddie’s hand.

The movie drones on in the background as Steve loops back to how stupid he had been to include the kids. “They could’ve been the ones getting tortured, Eddie. How could I do that? I was in charge of them and they could’ve- they could’ve...” Steve stops with a choked-out sob that has Eddie pulling Steve completely against his side.

“But they’re okay, Steve. And it’s all over now. You did protect them by sacrificing yourself.”

“But Robin-”

Eddie cuts him off before he can finish that thought, “Robin willingly sacrificed herself to be at your side which is exactly what you did for her. You know she wouldn’t have chosen any other way.”

Steve sniffs loudly and sadly laughs, “She’s so damn stubborn.”

“She really is,” Eddie says fondly as he glances down at Steve. “She also really loves you. Everyone does.”

Steve wipes at his eyes and glances up. “Even you?”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow slightly as he tries to figure out if Steve’s joking or not. But there’s growing concern in Steve’s eyes as Eddie doesn’t reply. He rushes to say, “Especially me, Steve."

Okay, that was a little bit more revealing than he wanted it to be, but the look of relief on Steve’s face is worth it. He keeps talking to try to cover up what he just revealed, “You know what would make me love you even more?” Eddie slightly cringes at his phrasing but continues as Steve waits in suspense, “A picture of you in your Scoops Ahoy uniform.”

Steve bursts out laughing as Eddie watches him, fondly chuckling as he takes in the moment. Even with red-rimmed eyes and tears staining his cheeks, Steve is absolutely gorgeous. Eddie has no idea how Steve doesn’t have people falling at his feet all the time.

“I’ll consider it,” Steve says as his laughter dies down.

Eddie loses all train of thought for the second time that night. “You’re kidding.”

“Maybe I’m not,” Steve says with a smile that’s a little too flirtatious for Eddie to comprehend. “As long as you promise not to tell Dustin.”

“Promise,” Eddie insists as he smiles down at Steve. He suddenly becomes very aware of how close they are as Steve’s eyes flicker down to Eddie’s lips. Distance. Eddie needs distance to think clearly. “I’m going to grab a beer, do you want one?” Eddie asks quickly as he stands up.

Steve glances down at his watch and sighs, “I’ve actually got to head back because I’m opening with Robin tomorrow.” He stands up and gestures toward the small television. “And looks like that’s the end of the movie.”

Eddie snorts and goes over to eject the tape. “I forgot we had something on.”

“I was just such great company,” Steve says, sarcasm clear in his tone.

Eddie sets the tape down. “You really were.” He feels that same tension in the room as he turns back to Steve who lingers for a moment. “You can stay the night if you want to especially if it’s still raining.”

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t want to wake you up so early, and I left my work vest at home. Some other time?”

Eddie nods his head and offers, “I can drive you back and load your bike into the van.”

“Thank you, but I think I need to clear my head a bit.” Steve smiles tightly and starts to walk towards the front door. He hesitates and turns to Eddie again, a question clearly on the tip of his tongue.

Eddie waits, but nothing comes. Steve just rushes forward and wraps his arms around Eddie quickly. Eddie barely has time to put his arms up before Steve leans in and whispers, “Thank you for tonight.” And with a quick peck on the cheek, Steve is racing out the door.

Eddie heads to the front door but before he gets there, Steve is already on his bike pedaling away into the dark. At least it’s no longer raining.

Eddie slowly closes the door once Steve is out of sight and leans against it with a sigh. What the hell was that?

Part Six

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#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #stranger things #steddie fic #secret admirer

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woman-of-balnain · 1 year

Text

Corruption Part 1/3 (Alpha Rick x Omega Reader)

Masterlist | AO3 Ver. | Next Part (Coming Soon)

Pairing: Rick Grimes/Fem!Reader

Request: Alpha Rick x Omega Reader….reader was sheltered and doesn’t really understand heats/ruts/presentations as their parents were religious extremists who refused to discuss anything so “unseemly”…let’s say they’re a late bloomer so they could be early 20s at the youngest, so age-gap…anyway, reader has to learn not only how to survive the zombie apocalypse but about presentations too. And there’s something about Rick’s scent that is just making them crazy and one day their heat comes and Rick has to guide them through…what do ya think?

A/N for Anon: Okay, so this may be far less plot than you were hoping for! I tried to write it but I worried about how innocent I was making the reader. Please let me know if you want a sort of prologue to this chapter (another anon ask is fine!) and exactly how innocent and clueless she can be and I will gladly write it!

Also, I'm not sure if I should have Rick cumming inside later and if he should claim her or not. Please let me know if you have a preference and I will accommodate it. And I'm so sorry this ended up becoming 3 parts instead of 1 but the idea just kept expanding. You really gave me the plot bunnies with this request and I love you for it haha

A/N:

I tried to keep Reader’s religious background ambiguous so you can picture it as anything, but I didn’t grow up religious so I’m sorry if I blatantly messed that up without realizing 😅

This is set in the prison era but it's kinda ambiguous as to when. I just figured that was still early enough after the outbreak for Reader to only just run out of suppressants if she had a bit of a stash of them, plus it gives them more opportunities for privacy compared to the quarry, the farm or being on the road.

I've messed with the prison a bit though. Since warden's usually had their own house on site in older prisons, I've got it so the warden in this one had their own quarters, which the group has agreed to keep reserved for heat/ruts cycles.

I'm also obsessed with Rick's lips rn and sorry, but the gifs are gonna reflect that lmao

Some notes on the a/b/o elements in this one:

Alphas and Omegas are fairly rare. Most people are just betas, making Reader's lack of knowledge about presentations etc more believable

She was put on suppressants as soon as she presented and has never experienced a real heat (just minor symptoms after first presenting)

Suppressants completely suppress your heat and are also considered to be sort of a taboo and unethical in this story due to how they mess with an omega's hormones etc.

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics (including non-traditional), dominant Rick, sheltered Reader, virgin Reader, female Reader, Rick is experienced and the Reader definitely isn't, considerable age gap (Rick is 38, Reader is 21), masturbation, Reader masturbating while Rick watches, oral sex (female receiving), heat/rut cycles, no knots, Rick with an innocence kink.

Don't like, don't read.

Word Count: 5,472

Dividers by: @newlips + @cafekitsune

Rick turned over for what felt like the hundredth time in the small, single bed of his cell. He couldn’t sleep; his whole body felt restless as traces of your scent continuously tempted him. He knew your heat was coming now and it only tortured him even more than your presence usually did.

Omegas were already so rare – more so than alphas – and to meet one after the fall of civilization felt like even more of an anomaly. But then there was also the fact that you were so damn innocent.

Your presentations meant that he’d been drawn to you from the moment he first picked up on your scent, but as he got to know you, it quickly developed into attraction. It was bad enough that you were so much younger than him – 21, compared to his 38… – but you were also just so sweet and pure, that he felt dirty just thinking about you in any kind of lustful way, yet he also couldn’t help it.

The way you looked at him with so much trust, and how tantalizingly your scent wrapped around him… all Rick wanted to do was see your eyes filled with lust that was directed at him, or to pick up on the traces of desire in your scent as he thrust into you over and over and elicited endless moans from your tempting lips. Your innocence drove him crazy, but Rick told himself that you didn’t see him that way and he tried to stamp down his inappropriate thoughts.

His conversation with you a few days ago only solidified the fact that Rick shouldn’t be thinking about you in any way that wasn’t platonic. You had come to him with an empty pill bottle, saying you’d run out about a week previously and could the group look for more.

Rick had already known about your sheltered, strict and fanatically religious upbringing, but realizing that your parents had put you on suppressants and left you mostly in the dark about your presentation made him rightfully angry. This would be your first actual heat and Rick wasn’t sure how you would handle it, especially after being on suppressants for 5 years, considering the way they messed with an omega’s hormones.

He was brought out of his thoughts as he heard a pained whimper escape you from the cell you slept in, the one directly across from his. It made him realize that your heat must already be starting. Rick debated with himself for a moment, unsure if he should give into his instincts or not.

Because he knew that he didn’t just want to comfort you, he wanted to completely take away all of the pain and discomfort he knew you were feeling and give your body the kind of sexual gratification it was so clearly craving after your natural biological instincts and hormones had been suppressed for so many years.

When he heard another pained but muffled cry escape your lips, Rick knew he couldn’t resist any longer. So, he climbed out of bed and headed for your cell, determined to at least help you in some way.

You squeezed your legs together as tightly as you possibly could, but it didn’t help. You were hot all over, sweat covering your body and your clothes scratching irritably at your skin. It didn’t help that Rick’s scent seemed to wrap itself all around you. You thought you’d found it irresistible before, but now that seemed like nothing because you were barely holding yourself back from going into his cell.

What you would do if you actually found yourself there, you didn’t know. All you knew was the undeniable need you felt to be near him. Your mind seemed to be losing a battle against your body and it left you a little fearful.

You remembered your mother calling you an ‘omega’ shortly after your sixteenth birthday. You could recall the way you felt hot and irritated, but your parents had put you on those pills that made it all seem to wash away and never come back – until now, at least. You also remembered the countless times your parents told you to stay away from alphas.

You’d somehow just instinctively known that Rick was an alpha the moment you’d met him. And while your parents’ words rang through your head, they were gone by the time you met him and now so were the pills. All that was left was this never-ending feeling of heat and the desire to be near him that you felt (but didn’t quite understand).

You’d always had a sensitive sense of smell, but Rick’s scent was irresistible. It filled you with such a mix of emotions, like comfort, protection and happiness. But you also found it sinfully alluring, and it left you feeling slightly ashamed whenever you caught traces of it and you became filled with scandalous desires.

As your thoughts on him lingered, your body seemed to respond and the desperate, aching heat between your legs increased. You curled your hand into a fist, raising it to your mouth and bit down onto your fingers in an attempt to stifle the sound of pure, unrestrained need that left your lips.

“Rick…” you found yourself moaning out, half in shame and half in desperation.

Then you caught his scent getting stronger and you recognized that he was coming closer to you. The realization caused you to feel conflicted between a sense of relief and mortification. Your mother’s words seemed to repeat like a mantra in your head, telling you that the kinds of feelings you held for Rick (especially in that moment) were sinful and wrong.

But when he reached the doorway of your cell and his scent wrapped around you completely, all that you could think was how it felt right for him to be there. You tilted your head to look up at him and the heat inside you only swelled more intensely when you realized that he wasn’t wearing anything except his boxers and a plain, white t-shirt.

“Rick,” you whined out again, a little louder this time and completely yearning for him.

“Hey, it’s okay ‘mega,” he said gently, coming to the side of your bed and bending down to look at you properly. “It’s not that bad yet.”

Not that bad? You thought to yourself incredulously. I feel like I’m burning alive from the inside.

“I…” you whimpered, completely unaccustomed to all the different things you were feeling. “I can’t…”

Rick looked away from you briefly, seeming caught up in his thoughts, like he was internally debating something. But then his gaze met yours again and he looked like he’d made a decision.

“C’mere, ‘mega,” he murmured, reaching out to you.

His touch only seemed to make the fire within you blaze even hotter, as his hand fell to your shoulder. Rick either didn’t notice or didn’t mind, wrapping his arm around you until he was able to help you up. He carefully led you out of your cell and towards the locked door that marked the exit of the cell block.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

“The warden’s rooms,” Rick replied. “It’s not far.”

You remained silent then, feeling only a little scared as you exited the safety of the cell block. But as he promised, you arrived there quickly enough. You only gave yourself a brief moment to look around, realizing that the warden of the prison must have lived there, since there was a bed.

“We’re keeping this room for when you’re in heat and I’m in my rut.”

You wondered what on earth a rut was. You’d only just begun to understand the fact that your body would be going into heat now that you were no longer taking the pills.

“You can stay here,” Rick continued. “Until it’s over. You’ll be safe in here, I promise.”

“Wait!” You exclaimed hurriedly. “You’re… you’re not going to leave me in here, are you?”

Rick looked at you with a strange expression, one you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Y/N…” his tongue darted out to briefly lick his bottom lip and it just made you feel even more heated. “I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?”

You didn’t realize how much you were tempting him with that question. In your mind, you just didn’t want to be left alone and you definitely didn’t want to be without the comfort his scent was giving you.

“You want me to?” Rick asked with a hint of trepidation.

“Please,” you practically begged him.

Unbeknownst to you, Rick was extremely conflicted. There you were, pleading with him to stay, but he was aware that you probably didn’t really know what you were asking. He knew that he should just walk away, but a deeper and darker part of his mind suggested that he could stay and help you through it.

He didn’t have to touch you… he could just guide you and make sure you weren’t alone. He ignored the more reasonable side of him which pointed out the fact that he would eventually lose his self-control. Hell, that was already slipping away as he made his decision.

“Okay…” Rick agreed. “But stay here for a few minutes. I’ll get some food, water… so you have everything you need.”

You just nodded, not minding just so long as he did come back. Rick gave you one last lingering look before leaving and once he did, you sat down on the edge of the bed to wait for him. But with each second that he was gone, your body seemed to get worse. That insatiable feeling between your legs seemed to be aching for Rick and the way his scent lingered in the room but wasn’t strong enough only made it more unbearable.

A thick fog seemed to cloud your mind and your inhibitions started to fade. Your hand seemed to move of its own accord, falling to the top of your right thigh and then sliding down between your legs. You’d touched yourself before, trying to forget your shame in the dark of night, stifling the quiet sounds that left your mouth in your old bedroom and finding a small sense of devious relief.

Maybe you could do it again now. Maybe it would satiate your wicked body until he got back, and you felt his scent wrap around you again… At the thought of Rick, your resolve wavered, and your hand disappeared under the waistband of your sleep shorts. They barely covered anything, and you’d felt slightly embarrassed to wear them at first, but now you were glad that they didn’t restrict you too much.

You let yourself lay back with a quiet moan as your fingers came into contact with your folds and all thoughts of it being wrong fled your mind as your body sang with happiness and relief. You let yourself think of Rick, imagining him while you touched yourself and felt wetness beginning to pool beneath your fingers.

You wondered how it would feel to have him touch you like this. Those long fingers giving you sinful pleasure while his deep voice with that southern lilt murmured dirty things into your ear. It made you squirm because everything you’d ever been taught told you how wrong it was to imagine him like that, while your body seemed to whisper seductively to you, pointing out that it felt so unbelievably good, so what did it matter?

You were so caught up in the pleasure you were giving yourself and the thoughts your mind conjured up of Rick, that you didn’t even notice the door opening back up. When his scent filled the room once again, you just became even more lost in the depths of your unholy desires, never once stopping to think that it meant he was back, and you needed to stop.

“Fuck…”

Your eyes snapped open, and you froze in horror. Rick was standing in the doorway, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. You became absolutely mortified, realizing how uncomfortable he must have been, seeing you like that. The fog seemed to clear as rationality entered your mind again. You pulled your hand out from your shorts at a rapid speed and blushed deeply.

“I’m so sorry,” you covered your face with your hands in complete and utter embarrassment.

Rick didn’t say anything, but you heard the door shut and the sound of footsteps approaching you. Then he was gently pulling your hands away so that you would look at him.

“You don’t have to be sorry, ‘mega,” he assured you. “It’s normal.”

You just stared at him, not really believing his words.

“It’s your heat,” Rick continued. “You don’t have to feel ashamed by it.”

He seemed to read you easily, and knowing about your sheltered upbringing likely helped him to ascertain the conflict of emotions within you. His close proximity didn’t help, as the intensity of his scent seemed to just make your symptoms unbearable again.

“I can’t stand it…” you admitted, squirming slightly. “I feel like I’m on fire.”

Rick just nodded, understanding. Then one of his hands fell to your left thigh, resting on the space just above your knee. You watched as he swallowed thickly, the action causing the protruding bump of his Adam’s apple to bob slightly. His pupils dilated as his thumb rubbed lightly against your skin and when he spoke you thought you might actually become consumed by that internal fiery feeling.

“You wanna touch yourself?” He asked lowly, voice husky and thick with lust.

He was so blatant about it – something you couldn’t bear to be. You just nodded ever so slightly, stuck between feeling embarrassed and just wanting to know what you should do.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Rick told you. “If that’s what you need, then you shouldn’t hold back.”

“I don’t want you to leave though…”

Your desire to have him close outweighed your need for release in that moment. As if in reaction to your words, Rick’s hand squeezed down slightly on your thigh and his tongue darted out once again to lick his bottom lip.

“I don’t have to…” he suggested ever so softly. “I can stay.”

The idea made your heart skip a beat and once again you were torn between what you’d always been taught to believe, and what your body was telling you, which was to just follow your instincts. Rick seemed to sense your hesitation and when he brought his other hand down to settle on your right thigh as well, you let out an involuntary sound which betrayed your carnal need for him.

A small smile curved up at the corners of his lips, and now with one hand on each of your thighs, he stroked his fingers lightly up and down them.

“Do you want me to?” Rick asked.

“Yes…” you replied quietly, with only the slightest hint of hesitation left.

“Tell me what you need, ‘mega,” he coaxed you. “You want these off?”

His fingers tugged lightly at the bottom of your shorts, and you just nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from his, as his eyes darkened even further. Rick brought his fingers up to the waistband of your shorts then and pulled down on them until they began sliding down your legs.

A mix of excitement and anxiety swirled through you because, oh… you shouldn’t be doing this, but you couldn’t find it within you to want to stop. When those immodestly tiny shorts had been gotten rid of, Rick’s gaze fell to the place between your thighs, now only covered by your cotton panties.

“Those too?” He asked, forcing his gaze back up to yours.

You hesitated, unsure if you were ready to completely expose yourself to him yet. But the fluids that had gathered between your folds as you’d touched yourself had only built up even more and it was slightly uncomfortable. So, you nodded again, and Rick was quick to hook his fingers under the elastic and pull them down too. Your panties had barely reached your thighs when he paused, drinking in the sight of your now unprotected pussy.

“Fuck, ‘mega,” Rick groaned. “You’re beautiful.”

Your cheeks heated, as the compliment was directed at such a sinful part of your body. But to hear him praise any part of you made you almost dizzy with happiness. He tugged them down the rest of the way, leaving your lower body completely exposed to him. Then, Rick spread your legs further and licked his bottom lip again. You wondered if he knew how much your heated skin grew worse every time he did it and if he was purposefully trying to torment you.

“You’re so wet…” Rick breathed out and you felt his fingers twitch against your thigh. “Go on, ‘mega… touch yourself.”

It was so dirty, the way he said it and you knew you shouldn’t have been letting him witness such a thing. But you were burning up inside again and your body didn’t seem to care about the beliefs that had been imprinted into your mind. Your hand moved without you really thinking about it once again and when you touched your dripping folds, you let out another sound of desire.

“That’s it, baby,” Rick moaned, barely holding himself back.

He was so close to you; it should have made you feel ashamed, but it only left you more desperate to touch yourself. Rick’s grip on your thighs tightened slightly as he tried to keep himself in check. You were driving him to the edge of his sanity, exploring yourself right in front of him. Rick wanted to instruct you to spread your folds a little more, so he could see more of your perfect pussy, but he reminded himself that this wasn’t about him. He knew that you only wanted him there because of your heat, so he reminded himself to just guide you where you needed it, like he’d told himself he would. But the urge to just reach out and replace your fingers with his own, or maybe with his mouth… it was overwhelming him.

You took in how heated Rick’s eyes were as they remained fixated on the way you pleasured yourself. Your eyelids became heavy as you watched him watching you, wondering if he really was as captivated by the sight as he seemed to be. Your fingers rubbed over your clit, making the desire swirl rapidly through you, increasing with every little movement you made to stimulate yourself further.

“That feel good, ‘mega?” Rick asked, bringing his gaze to yours and catching the way you were staring at him.

“Yes…” you admitted with just a little bit of shame.

“You can close your eyes, baby,” he suggested. “Think of whatever gets you over the edge.”

You just shook your head, because the only thing that would send you towards release was right in front of you and the real thing was better than anything you could imagine in your head.

“It’s okay,” Rick tried to assure you, thinking you were just too shy. “Your heat is a natural part of being an omega. You should enjoy it.”

You averted your gaze from his as your cheeks became heated again.

“I… I’m fine just… just looking at you…”

You blushed furiously, not knowing what had come over you to be able to admit that out loud.

“Omega,” Rick practically growled out, his fingers digging into the skin of your thighs.

You worried that you’d possibly upset him with the admission and frantically met his gaze again as your movements halted.

“I’m sorry!” You found yourself saying again. “I… I shouldn’t have said that…”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” he calmed you. “It’s just your heat… it’ll make you want an alpha and I’m the only one around. It’s okay.”

You frowned and didn’t really consider your words before you spoke them.

“It’s not that…” you admitted shyly.

Rick’s gaze pierced into yours, silently urging you to continue.

“I know it’s inappropriate but…” you tried to finish what you’d been about to say but found yourself faltering again.

“Have you already touched yourself while thinkin’ about me?”

You avoided his gaze again, looking off to the side self-consciously. Would he condemn you if he knew the truth? But then you felt his fingers begin to caress your inner thighs, slowly moving upwards and you realized that in the fog of that heated feeling you were still experiencing, he was still kneeling down between them.

What use was it to feel embarrassed over words of admission when you were completely exposed in front of him? You went to try and squeeze your legs shut as humiliation washed over you, but Rick’s grip was too strong, and he kept you right as you were – and exactly how he wanted you to remain.

“Answer me, omega,” he demanded.

You just nodded yet again, unable to even form the simple word ‘yes’ as you remained the subject of his intense gaze.

“Do you want me to touch you, instead?” Rick prompted, his fingers continuing their torturously slow ascent up your thighs. “Tell me what you want baby, don’t be shy.”

The fact that he seemed to be encouraging your sinful desires rather than judging you for them, only spurred you on.

“Yes…” you admitted softly. “I want you to.”

“Fuck,” he cursed again. “You’re so sweet, ‘mega.”

“Sweet?” You questioned out loud, feeling like the farthest thing from that as your upbringing made you feel dirty for your shameful desires.

“Yeah,” Rick breathed out. “I bet you taste sweet too.”

Oh, that made your pussy squeeze down with anticipation and you didn’t even really comprehend what he meant, but some secret and hidden part of your body seemed to respond and understand that it was something wickedly good. Rick just smiled deviously as your body squirmed a little and his fingers finally made contact with your wet folds. You let out a restrained sound of desire at his touch, but he seemed to disapprove.

“Don’t do that,” Rick gently admonished you. “I wanna hear every little sound you make, omega.”

Before you could nod or say any words of understanding, Rick pressed down onto your clit with his thumb and the only response you could give was a deep and shameless moan.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised. “Don’t hold back.”

He continued to tease you, rubbing circles over the sensitive nub and it was so different to when you had dared to touch yourself in the past. It was more pleasurable, because now you were no longer in control. It only made it even better that the man you desired in every sinful way possible was the one doing it to you. More moans left you, escaping your lips freely now and your pussy squeezed again as Rick’s fingers moved down to gather up some of the generous amount of slick still pooling between your legs.

“I’ve thought about you too,” he admitted lowly, continuing his perfect ministrations. “You’ve got no idea how much you drive me crazy, ‘mega.”

The revelation both stunned you and left you feeling overcome with happiness. Did he feel the same way you did? In truth, you weren’t entirely sure how you felt, because this was all so new to you. All you knew was that you felt drawn to him and even though it had started with his scent, it didn’t end there.

“Let me taste you baby,” Rick requested.

You still weren’t entirely sure what that meant but you were very eager to find out.

“Okay…” you moaned out as his thumb pressed down on your clit.

“You ever had a man eat you out before?” He asked with a devilish grin, like he already knew the answer.

“No…”

“What about touching you?” Rick continued. “Like this.”

He teased the sensitive nub further with his fingers, emphasizing what he meant.

“No, you’re the first…”

“Fuck baby… I’m the first one to see you like this?”

“Yes,” you admitted softly. “Rick… isn’t this wrong?”

Your inhibitions came back slightly at the reminder that he was the first man to ever see you so exposed and you remembered why that was.

“No, sweetheart,” he assured you. “Get that stuff outta your head. Lie down and let me take care of you.”

You hesitated just briefly before doing as he said and relaxing back onto the bed. You trusted him, enough to even forsake everything you’d ever been taught. And as you felt Rick shift between your legs and move closer until his warm breath met your dripping wet and exposed folds, you allowed yourself to forget it all too and just completely focus on him.

Then you were moaning so loud, you wondered if it was actually more of a scream as his lips enclosed over your clit. Your fingers curled into the sheets beneath you and your hips started to move up on their own. Rick pushed them back down with his hand though and kept a tight grip on you, holding your hips steady.

“Oh…” you breathed out, all rational thought leaving your mind as you focused on just feeling.

You had never felt so good before, and you didn’t care if it was a sin or anything like that. Your only concern was Rick and everything he was doing to you, everything he was making you feel and how right it all seemed. The tip of his tongue flicked over your clit, pushing up the hooded part and teasing the sensitive nub underneath. His lips sucked down around it and his fingers tested your entrance further down, noticing just how tight you were.

Waves of desire were spreading through your body, and it was almost too much, because you’d never experienced anything like it, or anything so intense. The coarse hair of his short beard tickled at your skin and even provided extra stimulation around your clit, where it sat around his lips.

His fingers pushed slightly inside of you, and it was a little shocking, because you’d never dared to explore yourself like that. Your pussy seemed to automatically clamp down around them, and Rick pulled them back out, apparently thinking better of it for now. Instead, he let his lips travel down from your clit and to the tight hole of your entrance, deciding to test you with something softer.

The tip of Rick’s nose rubbed against your clit and then he actually breathed you in, before letting out a deep moan as though he liked the scent of you there. That seemed so incredibly naughty to you, but your body’s only response was to produce more slick in anticipation of what else he would do to you.

“Ahh…” you moaned out uncontrollably as his tongue pushed into your pussy. “Rick…”

He let out his own moan in response, the sound vibrating through your core sensually. And then he was giving languid strokes of his tongue inside you, pushing you further towards the threshold of your desires. It was soft and pleasant, not feeling intrusive as he tested the tightness of your inner walls.

Rick was completely lost in his lust for you, feeling addicted to the way you were coming undone. A good girl, raised with strict religious morals, now a moaning and sticky mess beneath him, completely at the mercy of his touch. It was exactly how he wanted you to stay, receptive to him and eager for more.

Your scent was so lasciviously tempting to him, and especially with his nose being buried near the scent gland at your pussy. It made him crave every part of you and it was hard to hold himself back. He wanted to bury his cock (still trapped within his boxers and achingly hard) deep inside your pussy. But Rick knew he had to be patient and wait until you were ready, not just physically but also mentally.

Maybe it was a form of corruption, as he peeled away the layers of your innocence, but he couldn’t find it in him to care anymore. He wanted you to be his, in every possible way, just like he wanted to not just be the first, but also the only one to ever know you like this.

Your body felt like it was ascending to some high and just out of reach peak, and as Rick’s nose rubbed against your clit and his tongue thrust into your core, you felt yourself edging ever closer. When he pulled his tongue out of you and licked slowly up your slit until he reached your sensitive nub again, you felt the first ripple course through you.

But then his lips were wrapping around your clit, and he sucked down hard, just the tip of his tongue flicking over the little bundle of nerves. You cried out in shameless ecstasy, all inhibitions thrown to the wind as your body both tensed and seemed to also be overcome with euphoric release.

Your legs shook, with Rick’s head still buried between them and his mouth continuing to overwhelm you with stimulation. He licked and sucked as your entire body seemed to spasm. Your eyes squeezed shut and your mind became blank for a moment. The sensations you were feeling were new and powerful and so wickedly pleasurable. It was strange, but even with the intensity of it all, you still found yourself already wanting to chase that feeling again as your body began to settle.

The raging fire within you also seemed to calm down and your mind cleared slightly. Rick’s tongue slowed in its movements against you and then he was pulling back to look at you. His tongue flicked out again to lick his lips clean of the traces of your slick which had been left there. It was so wicked to think of him tasting you like that, but you found that you liked it.

Rick’s lips curved up into a salacious grin and he got up, moving to trap your body beneath his. You met his gaze, looking up at him with a mixture of awe and slight bashfulness. He reached out to let his fingers gently grip your chin and then his thumb was brushing along your lower lip.

“You’ve got no idea, do you ‘mega?” He asked you lowly.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, only confirming his observation.

“That’s what makes you so damned perfect. You have no idea what you do to me, because you’re not even doin’ it on purpose.”

His thumb pressed down harder against your bottom lip, and you let out a quiet moan. He was right; you were still not fully comprehending all the things he was making you feel, let alone how you were making him feel.

“You tell me now, omega,” Rick continued. “Your mind’s clearer after that, I know it is. You tell me if you want me to leave, because if you don’t do it now, I won’t be able to hold back later. When your heat fully hits you, I won’t be able to walk away, so make a decision now.”

The thought of him leaving made you feel panicked. You didn’t want to imagine experiencing this alone and he had already made it so much more bearable than you feared it could have been. When Rick explained your heat to you a few days ago, it left you filled with anxiety and trepidation. Now that he’d touched you, made you unravel until you reached the height of elation… there was no way your own fingers could compare.

You didn’t care that you’d always been taught that this entire thing must be a complete sin. Rick told you it was natural, that it was a part of you, and he knew in ways your parents would never understand. He was like you, even if he was slightly different. It was like he was the other half that could complete you and help you get through the confusing experience that still lay before you.

There was still some trepidation within you, because you were so inexperienced and unknowledgeable in general, let alone compared with Rick. But he had been so patient and had taken care of you so far. The answer to his request seemed obvious to you.

“Please stay,” you asked of him softly.

Rick didn’t try to talk you out of it or remind you that there was no going back. Instead, his eyes darkened with unrestrained desire and he leaned closer to you.

“Okay, ‘mega,” he murmured. “If that’s what you want.”

You just nodded and then he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours like you had just made a vow to one another and you were now sealing it with a kiss.

A/N: I'd really appreciate feedback on this one. Part 2 will involve some more exploration for the Reader with Rick before having her first time with him. Part 3 will involve Rick's rut hitting and be my usual alpha rut scenario, but with a bit of a different feel to it as Rick tries to control himself with the Reader, since she is still very new to so many of the things going on.

#rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x f!reader #alpha!rick grimes x omega!reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x fem!reader #alpha rick grimes #omega reader #female reader #rick grimes/you #rick grimes/reader #rick grimes/y/n #rick grimes smut

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anyon-else · 1 year

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I Set A Fire to My Soul (I Hope It Ate 'Till It Was Full) (The Red Room pt.9) | You realize after spending two weeks at the compound that existing peacefully actually seems like a plausible way of spending your life. It makes you feel free, a feeling that you're wholly unfamiliar with. It's something you want to get used to. (Marvel AU) – spotify playlist | read on ao3

Pairings | Kakashi Hatake x Black Widow!Reader + Sakura Haruno, Sasuke Uchiha, Naruto Uzumaki, Orochimaru (mentioned), Kabuto Yakushi (mentioned)

Warnings | female!reader, fluff!!! some hurt/comfort, not much this time around (just you wait though)

Word count | 6.4k

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At first glance, Kakashi's room was sparse of anything but a few pictures and a small potted plant in the window. It was the opposite of Sakura's room, which was teeming with decor and testaments to things she was interested in before she was taken. Seeing it had been like seeing a version of Sakura that you'd never had the chance to meet. A happier version.

But Kakashi's room gave little away.

You weren't exactly sure what you were seeking from Kakashi, and you almost wished he'd suggest something for you to do. You were standing awkwardly by the door as the man gathered a few books from his bed and set them aside. You eyed the newly-emptied space and wondered if it was too late to back out the door and shut yourself in your room.

But the thought of being alone again made your stomach twist in fear rather than nervousness. This was easy compared to the idea of dreaming of Orochimaru again. You were having trouble coping with the hold that he still had on you in your dreams.

"You can sleep in the bed, if you'd like. I can sleep on the floor, or–"

"No, don't. I'm imposing on you, I shouldn't take your bed too."

You both eyed the rather sizable space on the mattress, and you were sure that Kakashi was turning over the same idea that you were. Sharing a bed didn't seem all that different from sleeping together in the tent, but this wasn't something you were doing out of necessity. This was born out of fear and crippling solitude.

"I...don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with."

Were you comfortable with Kakashi? It felt like you were, but you couldn't remember when exactly that shift had taken place. On the mission, when you'd accepted that you had to rely on him to watch your back? Or at his house when you spent nights getting a few hours of light sleep on the couch with him.

Admittedly, his bed looked much more comfortable than his couch.

"It's fine," you took a hesitant step towards his bed, glaring at it like it was an obstacle, "I don't mind."

He clearly didn't believe you, but he shrugged, slipped under his covers, and picked his book back up. No expectations or demands, but not a rejection either. It was a new type of kindness that made something in your chest loosen.

You slipped carefully under the covers on the opposite side of the bed, leaving enough room so that you wouldn't shift and touch Kakashi in your sleep.

The mattress sank with your added weight, and you turned on your side to face Kakashi, eyes cracked open. As much as you wanted to avoid looking at him for fear of getting flustered, you still couldn't bring yourself to put your back to someone who wasn't Sakura. This was all so new. Trusting someone enough to keep them out of sight while you slept was one too many obstacles for the night.

But your quick heartbeat wasn't the same as it had been during your panic attack. It wasn't a feeling that threatened to consume you. It was just a reminder that you were in close proximity to Kakashi.

You were starting to accept that there was something about being in his presence that made sleeping through the night peaceful. That something also seemed to make the logical side of your mind shut down.

That night, Kakashi woke up gasping for air.

He knew that being next to you wouldn't give him a one-hundred percent success rate for restful nights, but he'd at least hoped that he wouldn't have to deal with waking from a nightmare in front of you so soon. Maybe after you'd both gotten used to this arrangement (one that he selfishly hoped would last longer than one night).

Obito's face still lingered in front of him, and he shook away the unwanted images of his friends dead, all because he wasn't strong enough to keep them safe.

"You okay?"

He glanced down at you and chuckled at the unfamiliar picture of your eyes barely open and your face pressed against a pillow. He should've figured that you'd be a light sleeper. Next time he'd have to try and control himself after waking up. You hadn't come here just to be burdened by his nightmares.

"Yeah," he sighed, "sorry, I'm alright. Go back to sleep."

He let out a heavy sigh, resting his head in his hands and squeezing his eyes shut. He had to keep it together. At least until you had fully adjusted.

"If you want to talk about it," you said quietly, voice still groggy, "I don't mind."

He laughed, looking down at you with a small smile.

"You don't look happy to be awake right now."

"I can be awake," you shrugged. He started to protest when you shifted, but you waved him off and settled on your side.

"Lay down," you muttered, more of a suggestion than anything else, but he didn't hesitate to do as you asked. "Hold out your hand."

Again, with little hesitation and almost no thought of your motives, he extended his hand until it was midway between you and him. You mirrored the movement, and he froze from shock alone when you hooked your pinkie around his. He wondered if it was just exhaustion that was making you act without thinking, but you seemed a bit more aware now. Maybe you were just becoming comfortable with his presence faster than he'd expected.

"I used to do this with Sakura," you whispered with a fond smile. "She was troublesome. Whenever I messed up and got thrown in a cell overnight, she would always make sure she ended up there with me. There were grates between each cell with just enough space for us to do this. She wanted me to know that I wasn't alone."

Kakashi felt his chest ache at the idea of you and Sakura being imprisoned in the place that was supposed to be your home. The image of Sakura deliberately putting herself there just to do then what you were doing for him now made the gesture feel much more significant. It almost felt sacred.

"It made me feel at ease," you whispered, eyes barely open, "how do you feel now?"

In all honesty, his heart was still racing. But images of bloody bodies and comrades lost weren't haunting him anymore. He gave a hum in response and closed his eyes, focusing on the warm point of contact between you. He felt that warmth spread through the rest of his body and lull him to sleep.

He only slept for a few more hours, but he woke well-rested and found that he had an easier time fending off unwanted memories than the last time he'd jolted awake.

He also felt a strange, unfamiliar weight on his arm.

You hadn't woken yet, but you had moved at some point in the few hours since you'd both fallen asleep. Instead of just holding on to his pinkie, you had grabbed his hand and pulled it towards you, hugging his arm and tucking it into your chest.

He felt his heartbeat pick up again. He sat completely still, afraid that moving would wake you up.

He thought he'd seen what you looked like when you were at peace when you slept during the mission. Even when you spent nights on the couch, you seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Now, you almost looked happy. He swore that he saw a small smile on your face, though that could've just been his mind playing tricks on him.

He thought back to when Sakura was younger and small enough that he could lift her on his shoulders. At that age, she liked the feeling of being surrounded in a hug. He always wondered if it was the reassurance that nothing could get to her that was appealing.

Kakashi had spent his fair share of nights trying to chase away nightmares of her parents' deaths by hugging her close and keeping her tucked under his chin. He couldn't imagine that her nightmares improved while she was in the Red Room. It was likely that you had taken over for him and spent nights keeping Sakura close to try and unburden her of her fears.

Maybe you'd gotten used to having something to hold. Maybe being deprived of that now was taking more of a toll on you than you realized.

He did his best to keep still, but a few moments later, your grip on his arm and hand tightened enough that he knew you'd woken up. He glanced up and met your eyes, though you looked more confused than anything else.

"Mm..." you sucked in a breath, looking down at where you were holding Kakashi's hand. Realization dawned on you at the same moment that you threw it back at him, your confusion morphing into horror, "I'm so sorry. I didn't even realize–"

"It's alright."

"I didn't mean to...make you uncomfortable or anything."

"You didn't."

"Oh," you huffed, turning on your back and staring up at the ceiling, "okay. Good."

He wanted to ask if you remembered waking up last night, either to give you some peace of mind that he'd been perfectly comfortable with you touching him or to determine whether or not it was drowsiness that made you so open to comforting him. But you looked embarrassed enough as it was, so he kept his mouth shut.

"Thank you for letting me stay here," you said quietly, "I appreciate it."

"Anytime."

You nodded, giving him a small, half-hearted smile before you were on your feet and heading towards the door. He sat up and watched you go, searching for the right words.

"I mean it," he rushed out before you could rush out. You glanced back, expression unreadable, "really. You can sleep here anytime you want."

It shouldn't have been this hard to talk to someone, but he felt himself second-guessing all of his words just to make sure they were the right ones. He wanted to figure out how to talk to you in a way that made you feel at peace.

"Okay," you nodded, "thank you."

He didn't expect you to accept his offer, but that night, you were in front of his door once again.

Two weeks later

Sakura woke up far earlier than she would've liked with stiff limbs and excess energy to burn off. Her room had enough space that she could stretch out on the floor and try to loosen up, but she still felt an ache in her legs that she knew was a result of cutting off her training so abruptly after her escape. She had gotten used to an intense daily routine in the Red Room, and while it wasn't the most pleasant form of training, she almost missed starting her mornings with activity.

It had been nearly two months since she was given permission by her doctors to spar. And while she didn't want to bother you to train with her, Naruto and Sasuke wouldn't be as much fun. They didn't know the tricks and techniques that she'd learned in the four years that she'd been gone, and they'd have to take time to get used to her new fighting style. That morning, she found herself itching for a challenge.

Your room was only one door down from hers, and she hadn't pondered much on the habitual silence coming from it day after day since you'd returned. She knew that you were light on your feet, but around her you weren't as careful. You'd never felt the need to hide your presence from her. She helped you get used to the idea that you were allowed to take up space. That you didn't need to conceal your presence like a ghost everywhere you went.

When she opened the door and peaked into your room, she was only slightly concerned to find it empty. In fact, it looked untouched. She didn't even see your small bag of clothes next to the bed where you usually kept it.

Were you out? No, you wouldn't have left without telling her. Maybe you were already in the gym? Did you go for a run? Were you making breakfast? It was five in the morning, no one was up yet and the compound was silent. She could hear her own footsteps echoing in the hallway; she would've heard you if you were wandering around.

She didn't start worrying until she had stopped in all of the main rooms of the compound and found them vacant.

It wasn't like you to disappear without a word. You knew how worried she'd get if you left without telling her, so she was confident that if you had left of your own volition, she would've been the first to know. That left one option: you had been taken. Maybe HYDRA had taken you, or SHIELD had found out that you were staying here.

In her panic, she realized that she needed to tell Kakashi-sensei that you had disappeared. While there were quite a few plausible explanations for your absence, all of them seemed less likely than the worst-case scenarios. Sakura wasn't used to not knowing where you were, and it was making her panic grow by the second.

She sprinted down the hall, mind racing through possible explanations faster than she could keep up with them, and her panic had grown enough by the time she reached Kakashi's room that she disregarded any need for privacy.

"Kakashi-sensei," she gasped as she opened his door, swinging it against the wall with a bang, "I can't find..."

Oh.

"Uh..."

What? What?

You were...in Kakashi-sensei's room. You were in Kakashi-sensei's bed. Kakashi-sensei was in the shower and the door was shut, and you were sitting under his covers like you had slept there. Had you slept there? What was going on?

Sakura felt like she had fallen into an alternate universe.

You were staring at Sakura like she was a ghost. In fact, she wasn't sure she had ever seen that expression on your face before. She had seen worry and fear, but never this mix of shock and embarrassment. She wished she had a camera.

"What are you doing here?" you said through grit teeth after a long silence. You glanced between Sakura standing shocked in the hallway and the closed bathroom door where the shower was still running.

"What am I doing here?" Sakura let out a disbelieving laugh, "what are you doing here? Does Kakashi-sensei know that you're in his room?"

"Wha-of course he does! It's not what you think, nothing is going on, but you need to leave! You can't just walk into people's rooms!" you said. You looked like you were aging years in the seconds that Sakura was standing in the doorway. You glanced back with a groan when the shower cut off, "Go, go, we'll talk later."

You stood from the bed and practically tackled her through the door. She stumbled back with a disbelieving laugh, a mix of shock and glee on her face.

"We will talk about this later," you repeated calmly, though you still looked mortified, "Just...go back to sleep or something. Do not tell the others."

The door slammed before she could say anything else, and it took her about a minute to move from in front of it. Her paralysis lasted until she heard you shuffle back to bed, and it reminded her that you weren't only sleeping in Kakashi-sensei's room, you were sleeping in his bed. She still hadn't quite recovered from the shock, and processing what she had just seen seemed like a monumental task. How had she not noticed?

Sakura nearly sprinted away from the room, rushing down the hall and opening Naruto's door in the same abrupt fashion as she had Kakashi-sensei's.

"Naruto," Sakura whispered, hoping that you hadn't hear her scampering away from Kakashi-sensei's room, "Naruto! Wake up!"

"Huh...wha-? Sakura, wha's goin' on?"

Naruto's face was pressed into his pillow, and he looked like he had no intention of getting up despite Sakura's urgent tone.

"Naruto, come on," she grinned, shaking the boy, "Y/N is in Kakashi-sensei's room."

Naruto shot up at her words, fully awake and staring at her with wide eyes. She nodded when he gave her a disbelieving laugh, grin growing wider.

"No way," he laughed again, and Sakura slapped a hand over his mouth when he opened it again.

"She'll hear you, dummy! We have to be quiet!"

Naruto looked at her wide-eyed, nodding against her hand and waiting patiently for her to deem him ready to be released.

Sasuke's room was a bit more intimidating than Naruto's, and Sakura found herself calming enough to knock quietly at his door. He opened it a moment later, rubbing his eyes and glaring at Sakura and Naruto tiredly.

"It's five in the morning," he grumbled, then perked up, "is something wrong?"

"No," Sakura shook her head at the same time that Naruto gleefully said, "yes!"

Sasuke looked unimpressed.

"Y/N is in Kakashi-sensei's room!"

While Kakashi-sensei had trained his charges extensively in stealth, they seemed to forget all of their lessons as they stumbled down the hall to his room. Naruto couldn't stop giggling as he raced down the hall, and Sasuke looked more shocked that Sakura had ever seen him.

This was new and very exciting territory. Kakashi-sensei had never had a...

A what? A girlfriend? The idea of you being someone's girlfriend felt wrong to Sakura; it was so...normal.

"What do we do?" Naruto whispered, backing away from Kakashi's door like it was a wild animal.

"There's no way this is happening," Sasuke whispered, head in his hands and voice very distressed, "what is going on?"

"This is weird, right?" Naruto whispered nervously, "I mean, we're just...sitting outside of his room."

"We need answers!" Sakura grinned. "This has never happened before. I mean, Kakashi-sensei? No one ever sleeps in his room with him!"

When had this happened? She was wracking her brain to create a timeline of events, but she was coming up empty. Maybe something had changed on the mission.

That would be so romantic.

Footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, and she heard you mumbling something to Kakashi as you approached.

"Hide!" Sakura whispered, though not as quietly as she would've liked. All three of them stumbled to their feet, and Sakura groaned at their luck when Naruto tripped over Sasuke and took both of them down. She grabbed them by the back of their shirts and tried dragging them to their feet and out of sight, but the door clicked open before she could begin moving them at all.

"Jesus," you gasped, backing away from the three with a hand over your chest. Sakura supposed they probably looked like a comedy skit, all tangled up on the floor and looking at you like deer in headlights.

"What?" Kakashi said from out of sight. When he appeared, Sakura almost laughed.

He was wearing a fluffy grey robe that was tied tightly around his waist. His hair was dripping from the shower, and he was maskless.

"No way," Sasuke muttered again, followed by a delighted laugh from Naruto.

There was a long moment when the five of you just stared at one another. Then Kakashi nudged you out of the way, grabbed the door, and slammed it shut.

"What are you doing?" you hissed at him. He was red to the tops of his ears, and he was looking just about anywhere to avoid meeting your eyes. "Now they'll be even more suspicious!"

"I was caught off guard!" he whispered back, voice low enough that the kids would only be able to hear if they were pressed against door. The thought had you glancing at the shadows under the crack of the wood. You narrowed your eyes and kicked it.

"Ow," Naruto shouted, followed by two identical shushes from Sasuke and Sakura. You scowled.

"I'm never going to have a day of peace again," Kakashi grumbled, "they'll never let me live this down."

"Maybe because you slammed the door in their faces. You look like a teenager who was caught by their parents."

"I've never had to deal with this before!" he threw his hands in the air, "even if it's just for nightmares, they'll be insufferable. All of the questions..."

His face fell into lethargic horror at the thought.

"Don't be dramatic," you huffed. You opened the door in one swing and glared down at the three brats falling at your feet. Sakura met your glare with an innocent smile.

"Good morning," she smiled. You glared harder, "it's lovely out today. Wanna go on a walk?"

"No," you grumbled, "I want peace."

"We want answer-mmhp," Naruto shouted over Sakura shoulder, cut off by her hand blindly slapping backwards and landing over his mouth. She held it there and gave you another innocent smile.

"Listen, all three of you. I will say this one time and one time only."

The kids all froze, and you even noticed Kakashi stop in his tracks to look at you.

"I have nightmares, and being next to someone at night helps. That's all."

"Aw man," Naruto grumbled, turning towards Sasuke, "we thought Kakashi-sensei had a girlfriend."

"Hey," Kakashi stuck his head through the door, now fully dressed and slightly less red than before, "all of you go run three miles."

"Wha–, sensei," Sakura groaned, "what were we supposed to think? You were practically naked–"

"Four miles."

"But–"

"Five."

"Fine, fine, geez."

Naruto and Sakura sulked towards the gym, but Sasuke paused and gave you a long glance. It didn't hold any of his previous coldness; now it was just curiosity that lingered in his gaze. Once he was apparently satisfied with his observation, he glanced at Kakashi and tilted his head, then turned and followed Sakura and Naruto down the hall.

"Good morning," you muttered to a wide-eyed Kakashi. He looked like he had gone into overdrive, and you imagined he was picturing the horrors that would come that day as a result of this incident. Five miles wouldn't do much good to deter them from being insufferable.

"Right," Kakashi sighed, "great morning. Once I leave this room, I'll live the rest of my life being tortured."

"Oh, please," you waved his concerns away, "how bad could they be?"

"You clearly haven't spent enough time with all three of them together," Kakashi mumbled, "they feed off of one another. They're evil."

"Dramatic," you repeated, glaring pointedly at the mask that he was pulling over his nose. He shrugged.

When you left Kakashi's room, it didn't take long for you to run into Naruto. He was standing in the doorway that led into the gym, watching Sakura and Sasuke spar disinterestedly. When he saw you next to him, he perked up. It was the first time you'd ever gotten such an enthused reaction from the boy.

"Hey," he looked behind you, presumably for Kakashi, "can I, uh...talk to you?"

Interesting, but not as weird as it would have been if he hadn't just discovered you sleeping in his guardian's room. You leaned against the opposite side of the doorframe and tried to look as open and safe as possible.

"I thought you were supposed to be running?" you asked.

"Nah, Kakashi-sensei's never serious about that stuff," Naruto laughed, and you couldn't help a small smile. Kakashi really was like a father to them, and you desperately hoped Naruto didn't see you and this newfound closeness as a threat to him.

"I just wanted to...ask what your intentions are, I guess? With Kakashi-sensei."

You almost laughed at the question, but Naruto looked dead serious. You glanced at Sakura and Sasuke and saw that they hadn't stopped sparring to look at you and Naruto. So this conversation was likely happening independent of their input.

"I don't have any intentions," you said simply, "what I told you is all there is. It's a mutually beneficial arrangement, that's all."

Naruto didn't look convinced, but he moved on quickly.

"We didn't exactly meet on great terms, but I know from what Sakura's told me and from what I've seen that you're a good person. It's just that...Kakashi-sensei doesn't have that many people that he relies on. He has friends, sure, but they're more like...coworkers. He goes on missions with them, so he always feels like he has a responsibility to keep them safe. He doesn't really let his guard down much. I don't know why, but he doesn't act that way with you."

You weren't sure how you felt about being told that you were unique in someone's eyes. For most of your life, you were simply a cog in a machine. There was nothing about you that differed from your fellow Widows. You were basically a copy of the girls who came before.

"He lets his guard down around you. And he does that with us too, but he's our guardian. I think your presence is like...a reassurance that he can unwind without worrying that someone will get hurt. He's always looking out for us, never letting himself rest, so maybe you can take some of that weight off of him. Keep him from taking on too much."

"I think you're overestimating how much he trusts me."

"No," Naruto smiled, and you tried to reconcile the boy standing in front of you giving you rather wise advice with the one who had come poking around your cell when you first met, "he does. I think it makes him nervous how much he does."

"How can you tell?"

"Dunno," Naruto shrugged, "but we spend every day with him. We notice when things have changed. And all three of us have noticed it. He's more relaxed."

Did he seem more relaxed? You supposed that you hadn't known him before, so you didn't have anything to compare it to, but it was hard to imagine Kakashi being even more vigilant than he already was. You wondered just how much stress he was under on a day-to-day basis.

"Please don't leave," Naruto muttered. Your eyes widened, and you had to stop yourself from letting out a shocked laugh, "if you do, it won't just hurt Sakura. It'll hurt him too. I don't think he even realizes that, but it will. And none of us want to see that happen."

"I don't think–"

"It's true."

"Shit–" you jumped away from Sasuke, who had somehow managed to stand behind you and listen in on the conversation without you noticing, "again? Seriously, this shouldn't keep happening. I'm supposed to be a spy."

"Maybe you're distracted because you're talking about Kakashi-sensei," Sakura said with a sly smile. You narrowed your eyes at her.

"Why would I be distracted?"

"Oh, no reason," she shrugged, taking Naruto and Sasuke by the arms and dragging them back to the middle of the gym, "no reason at all."

Distracted. You weren't easily distracted, and Kakashi was low on the list of people who could throw you off balance. Orochimaru and Kabuto were distracting. Kakashi was just Kakashi. He didn't stop you from breathing. He sometimes made it easier.

That wasn't distraction.

You pushed Sakura's irritatingly cryptic words aside and joined Sasuke next to the mats, watching Naruto have a significant amount of trouble taking Sakura down. Both were laughing, and even Sasuke had a fond smile on his face as he studied the match. You noticed that he was paying more attention to Sakura than Naruto, eyes focused on her footwork as she side-stepped her opponent's attack and knocked him to the ground.

"How come," Naruto panted, stretching out the shoulder that he'd landed on when he fell, "I can't keep up with you anymore? It's not fair."

"How do you think I feel? I miss having sparring partners who can actually put up a fight"

"Hey!"

"Kidding, kidding," Sakura laughed, turning away from a sputtering Naruto. "Oh. good morning, Kakashi-sensei. Sleep well?"

"I slept fine, thank you for asking, Sakura," Kakashi spoke smoothly, no trace of his previous embarrassment in his voice, "and you?"

"Oh, it was a bit lonely," she shrugged, "but I suppose you wouldn't understand that problem."

Sasuke snickered, then became conveniently enraptured by the opposite wall when you glared at him.

"Hey, Kakashi-sensei could take you down!" Naruto told Sakura, pointing at the man excitedly.

"Of course he could," Sakura scoffed, "I didn't train that hard."

She glanced at you, and in some sudden revelation, her eyes widened and she jumped off of the mats. You let her hurriedly push you onto them in her place with just a bit of resistance and a dead expression on your face.

"Spar Kakashi-sensei!"

You gave her a flat look, wholly uninterested in sparring at the moment. You needed breakfast. You were also in the middle of a good part of Icha-Icha, but you'd been too tired last night to keep reading. You'd been looking forward to returning to it all morning.

"I'm tired."

"No, you're not. You slept great."

"You're such a little shit," you grumbled, glaring at her, then at Naruto and Sasuke with equal amounts of contempt, "all of you."

Naruto was grinning and trying to pull an equally as inconvenienced-looking Kakashi onto the mats with you.

"Don't you three want food? I know none of you can cook."

"Cook after!"

"Maybe I won't want to after."

"We'll go out."

All three were watching you and Kakashi eagerly. Sakura looked conflicted, like she was trying to decide who she should place her bets on.

"Did you three finish your five miles?"

"Of course we did!"

"Pretty quick for a couple of short stacks."

"Hey!"

You snickered, ignoring Sakura's glare.

"Fine," Kakashi said, meeting your unimpressed stare with a smile, "but I expect you to observe carefully. You'll be seeing two different fighting styles, so pay close attention to the strengths and weaknesses of both."

"Kakashi-sensei," Naruto groaned, "why does everything have to be training?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Naruto," Kakashi turned his smile from you to the sulking boy, "would you prefer to write me an essay on this instead?"

"No! Not at all, I'll watch very diligently."

"Good," Kakashi nodded, then turned to you, "well, this feels familiar."

"Right," you scoffed, "because last time was just so much fun."

Sakura was looking between you and Kakashi with wide eyes, and you didn't want to imagine what kinds of assumptions she was making about your comment. You ignored her questioning gaze and steadied yourself in front of your opponent, hands raised in a defensive position.

Kakashi still had his hands in his pockets, and in the split second that you wondered if you should attack first, he was gone.

He's quick, you thought with a scowl, though not quick enough that you couldn't detect his presence behind you. You stepped forward just as his leg attempted to kick yours from under you, and you barely missed getting thrown to the ground as you spun towards him.

You heard a mix of shouts from the kids, and most of them were encouragements for Kakashi as you continuously sidestepped his attacks.

But he was the only one attacking. You were just trying to keep up.

He had you cornered, and you let out a frustrated grunt when you felt your foot hit the edge of the mat. Kakashi barely paused, so you settled on a rather crude attack and leapt at him, grabbing him around the waist and pulling him to the ground.

He landed on his back with a surprised grunt, though it didn't take him long to recover. This time, though, you had the upper hand on him. Your attacks were swifter, but they had less power behind them. One technique that was encouraged in the Red Room was to tire an opponent out with fast attacks until they couldn't counter one with increased strength. It was especially useful for stronger opponents like Kakashi, who used more raw strength in his offense.

The match continued for far longer than you would've liked. You'd thought that you'd have an easier time beating him, but you wondered if he would actually manage to take you down. You were on fairly even footing in terms of skill, you'd known that from the beginning, but you knew enough tricks that you thought you'd have the edge on him.

It seemed you'd underestimated his strategies. It must've been a lingering feeling of superiority over SHIELD that rubbed off on you from Orochimaru.

You were even more surprised when, in your momentary distraction, Kakashi reused his move from the beginning of the fight and swept your legs out from under you. You landed with an oof on the mat, head knocking against it and arm aching where your gunshot wound had almost finished healing. You probably shouldn't have been sparring, but curiosity about Kakashi's skill in close combat took precedent over concern for your still-healing injuries.

"If I hadn't gotten shot," you panted, looking up at Kakashi's pleased expression, "I would've won."

"Of course you would've," he said jovially, mood apparently lifted by his victory. He held out a hand, and you took it begrudgingly, allowing him to haul you to your feet.

You narrowed your eyes at the hushed voices behind you and glanced back at Sakura, who was whispering something in Naruto's ear that made him grin and giggle.

"Did you learn anything useful?" you ruffled her hair, pushing her head to the side playfully and sidestepping her when she tried to shove you.

"Oh, sure," she laughed, "lots of things."

Naruto laughed again, and even Sasuke cracked a small smile.

"You guys are weird," you huffed, stretching your arms above your head and following Kakashi out of the gym.

Later that night, after you'd successfully finished your Icha-Icha volume and ranted about it extensively to an amused Kakashi, you were pulled into Sakura's room hastily and rather aggressively on your way back to the gym. You stumbled inside on ungraceful feet, tripping over them as you tried to catch yourself. Sakura offered no help; she glanced out into the hall once you were inside, then closed the door quietly behind her.

"You know, you could've just asked if you wanted me in here."

She shrugged, then leapt into her bed and patted the spot next to her in invitation.

"Can I ask you something?" she said once you had settled in on the empty side. You hummed your assent, sitting up and giving her your full attention when you saw how serious her expression looked.

"Are you...happy here?"

The hope in her eyes was so clear that you had to look away. She wanted you to say yes more than anything, but it wasn't that simple. happiness was never that simple, especially when you had never really thought about your own happiness at any point in your life. It had never been enough of a priority.

Now that you thought about it, you weren't even sure what it meant to be happy. How were you supposed to tell? How could you even give her a truthful answer without knowing it for yourself?

"I...don't know," you told her honestly. Her hopeful expression didn't fade, and she nodded like she had been expecting that answer. "I'm comfortable. I feel safe here."

She smiled, and you couldn't help but mirror it. You hadn't realized how much you missed spending time with Sakura; it had been a while since you'd been able to sit down and talk like this, just the two of you. You realized somberly that it was the first time you'd been able to do it outside of the Red Room.

"You're smiling a lot more," she told you happily. You looked at her, brows furrowed. Had you smiled more? You didn't feel all that different, but you supposed that the person you'd been when you escaped with her was a far cry from who you were becoming. It hadn't even been long, and she already saw that much change?

But now that you thought about it, you saw the change too. Your nightmares were becoming more infrequent, and you no longer felt the constant pull of the Red Room and of Orochimaru's promises. They appeared to you as a distant memory; a thing of the past.

You tried to remember when you'd stopped assuming that you would eventually go back. When you'd accepted that you were no longer a Widow.

You wondered when you had become okay with that fact.

"I'm so happy," Sakura laughed, silent tears rolling down her cheeks, "none of it even feels real."

"What do you mean?"

"This," she motioned towards you vaguely, then towards the door where you could hear Naruto and Sasuke talking to Kakashi from the lounge, "you being here. Everyone being safe. For the first time in almost five years, I'm surrounded by people I care about. And you're smiling so much, I just..."

Her words were becoming more strained, like she was trying to keep herself from bursting into tears. You reached towards her on instinct, and she was quick to lean into you and wrap her arms around your waist. She was crying quietly into your chest, gripping your shirt and muffling the sounds of her cries in the fabric. You buried a hand in her hair and tucked her head under your chin in a familiar set of movements.

"I'm so happy," she cried quietly, pulling you closer and sniffling. You rubbed her back, unsure of how to respond. You felt something swell in your chest; this was the first time that Sakura had cried in your arms because of something good happening. The last time she'd done it, it was because you were leaving. You had been reassigned after your mission together, and her terrified cries often haunted your nightmares.

"I...I think I'm happy," you whispered. She paused; it almost felt like her breathing had stopped. "and I want to stay. I am staying. If...if you and the others will have me."

"Of course," she laughed, though it sounded more like a sob as she tackled you to the bed. You chuckled, wrapping your arms around her and relishing in the lightness in your chest. It was such a new feeling. It was freeing. Maybe that was what happiness felt like.

If it was, it was something that you wanted to get used to.

(previous chapter) | (next chapter) | (series masterlist)

Author's note | ahhhh i'm so excited about this chapter. i've had it started for a while so i'm glad to finally get it published. also, i have this series planned to the end, but i'm absolutely love writing it, so would anyone be interested in a sequel series (that i've already begun planning)?

anyways, as always, let me know what you think and leave me some love if you enjoyed!

title is from "Trust" by Lucy Dacus

#kakashi #kakashi x reader #kakashi x you #kakashi x y/n #kakashi imagine #kakashi hatake #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi hatake x you #kakashi hatake x y/n #kakashi hatake imagine #naruto #trr #emwrites

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seekingjamaharon · 1 year

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Kirk/Spock Fic Recs

(These recommendations are not organized by rating, universe (AOS/TOS), or tags, so it is your responsibility to review before reading!)

***

Veritas - theproblematique

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141066/chapters/2308617

This story is an utter DELIGHT to read, from start to finish. There are several AMAZING scenes that LIVE ABSOLUTELY RENT FREE IN MY MIND. If you’ve read it, you know which ones I’m talking about. If you haven’t read it… my ask box will be open for you to come scream at me about it later!

Through Blind Men’s Eyes - ladyblahblah

https://archiveofourown.org/works/329721/chapters/532085

It’s exactly like the summary says–”Pon farr–with a twist.” But what a twist it is!!! There were points in this story where I had to put my phone down and walk around my room before my brain fried itself. The pacing is perfect. The characterization is perfect. The angst is perfect. The sex is perfect. It hits exactly the right notes with me, personally, in every single line. This fic changed me as a person.

For gladness of you - kariye

https://archiveofourown.org/works/610649

I’ve never read anything quite like this before. It’s like you’re watching someone paint, where first there are the rough outlines of color, and as you watch the artist goes back and adds shadows and highlights and everything starts to take shape. Once it’s finished you can see each detail that makes up the whole. Just a beautiful, wonderful story.

Also, there are rocks.

The Bond - WhatIfImaMermaid

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11593152/chapters/26056887

The premise of this story means that some of the usual tropes are reversed, and it’s just so sweet and earnest. I particularly like this version of AOS Jim and his relationship with the crew.

Spice - eimeo

https://archiveofourown.org/works/285483/chapters/455338

I know it’s more than a little ridiculous for me to recommend a story without having actually finished it, BUT: I started this story without realizing that it was essentially a retelling of The Motion Picture, which I have not seen, so I stopped reading about halfway through to give myself some time to catch up on my watch of the series. However, even with only a portion of this piece under my belt, I feel confident enough to say that it’s DEVASTATINGLY GOOD. The PINING. The LONGING. The YEARNING. Truly unparalleled.

The Marriage of True Minds - spicyshimmy

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020522/chapters/2029865

When I first saw this story in my AO3 results, I looked at the word count and said, “Impossible.” But one day when I was feeling ambitious, I opened a new tab, and the rest is history. I am now essentially a Spicyshimmy stan, and recommend their entire body of work. This particular work takes you on a JOURNEY. Both Spock and Jim learn and grow together, and it’s not perfect, but I adore Spicyshimmy’s Spocks–absolutely ADORE THEM. There’s a certain scene in Chapter 39 that had me laughing out loud. Even now, I’ll re-read it for a little boost of serotonin.

#spirk fic recs #spirk #the premise #star trek tos #fanfic #shout out to 2063april5 for inspiring me to make the list in the first place #thank you for the encouragement and sorry this took five million years #if anyone ever wants to send a story my way please do so!#my messages and ask box are open #and I'd be glad to chat/scream with you

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thespiritssaidso · 3 months

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Call Me Cinnamon

Chapter 2: We Get Some Rules to Follow (That and This)

Also, I have decided to dedicate this chapter to @this-is-my-main-i-follow-from. Thank you so much for the lovely comments on ao3! It inspired me to finally finish writing out this chapter. I hope you enjoy <3

—————

Neither of them got any sleep that night.

Cinnamon stayed up because she couldn’t sleep, the adrenaline leftover from when she had realized her situation keeping her up. (Do ghosts even get adrenaline? He’d have to look it up later.)

And Shawn… well, he was busy thinking, despite Cinnamon’s warning against it. He was thinking about how he now knew ghosts were real, and he’s just been possessed by one. Also about how this ghost was not only well aware that he was not psychic, but also knew most of his life story. Well, mostly moments from his childhood, and the slightly unethical way he solved his cases (although that didn’t make it any less creepy).

He glanced at the windows, and saw that some sunlight was starting to peak through. Great, now he was going to be extra tired all day. He turned his head to look at the long horizontal mirror on his wall, and watched as Cinnamon paced around the room.

He had thought about their situation as well. After all, there was now a whole person inside of him, albeit the ghost of one, sharing his body. It felt invasive, like he was now no longer able to have any privacy, never mind the fact she knew more than she should about him. Was this what it was like for people with DID? God, that must suck.

Sometime during the night, he had briefly considered calling Father Westley to see if he was still up, and would be able to perform an exorcism on him. But, something had stopped him. He thought back to when he was talking to Cinnamon, and the dangerous knowledge she told him she had. Sure, she was a bit eccentric, and threw facts about Shawn around like it was confetti. But it was obvious that she had no malicious intent. Besides, what could she do? Tell someone? Yeah, not likely.

“Hey, Shawn?”

He startled a bit, before he looked and saw Cinnamon herself standing right in front of the mirror. She smiled when she saw that he was already up.

“Oh good, you’re awake! How’d you sleep?”

He heaved a sigh. “I didn’t. It’s kinda hard to, when… you know…” Shawn waved his hand around in Cinnamon’s general direction.

She sucked in a sharp breath between her teeth, making a kind of hissing sound. “Yikes. Yeah, sorry about that. I mean, I couldn’t sleep either, if that helps. I was too busy thinking. And maybe experimenting.”

He fully sat up at that. “Experimenting?”

“Mhm! You know, finding out what I can do, now that I’m… well, a ghost.”

She moved over to his nightstand, and put her hand behind a framed photo of him and Gus, as if she was going to push it off. “For instance-”

“No- no wait don’t-!”

Just before her hand hit the picture, it went clean through, and the only thing that could indicate that she had attempted to swat it off was the frame giving a faint tremble.

“Nothing happens. I mean, it moved like, a little bit. But that’s it. I can’t really interact with the material world.”

“Huh. Interesting.” He sat for a minute before speaking up again. “Hey, Cinnamon.”

“Yeah?”

“I know you said that not asking questions was the best way to stay sane…”

“…but?”

“How much do you know?”

She thought about it for a bit, as if debating whether or not she should tell him. She finally came to a decision and said, “Well, depending on how my being here impacts everything… I’d say I know about every case Psych has and will have starting from 2006 up until 2014.”

Shawn could practically feel the delay in his brain as he processed this new information. “You- you can see into the future?”

She shook her head. “Nope. I can’t like, peer into the future and tell you what’s gonna happen. I just… already know what’s gonna happen. It’s all up in here.” With that she knocked on her head a bit. “Except if I forget it. Then I forget it. Until I remember it.”

"Oh, yeah, that's really helpful, Cin."

She smiled a bit. "Thanks! I do try."

He stared at her a while. Was she for real? He just shook his head. "Anyways, I was also thinking last night. And I figured: we need some ground rules, desperately, if we're going to be sharing a body."

She sat down on the bed, facing Shawn. "Alright. Whatcha got?"

He cleared his throat. "Rule one: No offhanded comments about my past, it's creepy."

Cinnamon nodded. "Yeah, I guess that is a little weird. I'll keep it to a minimum. But no absolute promises."

He sighed. That was good enough, he guessed. "Rule two: no, uhhm... looking, when I'm-"

She stopped him before he could go on. "Yeah, you don't have to worry about that. I'd rather keep... that... unknown, thank you very much."

Shawn nodded. "Good, good. Okay, rule three: try to keep...the- the future... stuff, to a minimum."

Cinnamon nodded. "'Kay, no mentioning about how you end up-"

"NO!"

She grinned. "Alright. I won't talk about stuff you don't already know, unless you give me the go ahead."

He groaned. Was this how he was like? Was this how others felt when he was messing with them?

"Rule four:..." He blanked a bit. "What was rule four? I know I made four rules. Three at first, but then there was the rule about the future I just added, so..."

"Don't worry, man. It happens to me all the time. You'll remember it eventually."

Suddenly, Shawn's phone vibrated. He grabbed it from the nightstand to look at what it was. It was a text from Gus, reminding him about their agreement to meet at the Psych office in case they had any walk-in clients.

"Oh my gosh, we're going to the-! Holy shit!" Shawn looked over and saw that in the reflection, it seemed as though his phone was floating, with nothing holding it up. And Cinnamon had looked at the text Gus sent, apparently. Well, that took care of the problem of telling her they had to go.

—————

While he was driving his motorcycle, he started thinking again.

Cinnamon was an… some word that Gus would use to describe her. That fancy sounding one, that started with… an ‘i’? No, it was an ‘e’. Eczema? Wait, that was a kind of rash. Never mind. Bottom line, she was really strange.

For one, it was as though she was constantly happy. The most random things excited her. When she had seen the text saying that they had to go to the psych office, she looked like she would explode. And then she had gone on about how she couldn’t wait to ride ‘The motorcycle’ and see ‘The Psych office’. Her ability to see everything under a such a positive lens really surprised him. Honestly, the fact she was also somehow capable of pronouncing the capital letter in ‘The’ was impressive as well.

Before he knew it, they had arrived.

—————

It had been an hour or so since they got to the office. Gus was busying himself with his emails, Shawn entertaining himself by making a card pyramid, and Cinnamon — from the reflection of the large dry-erase board — had situated herself on the floor, lying spread eagle on her back, staring at the ceiling.

Shawn was just about to put the final two cards at the top when the cordless phone went off, startling him. The cards fell delicately down, ruining all of the hard work he had put into it. Gus answered the phone while Shawn stared pathetically at the little pile of cards.

"Psych office, this is Gus speaking."

"Dang, dude, that's fucked up."

He let out a little whine. "...my cards..."

"Yes Chief... We're on our way." He hung up.

That shook Shawn out of his daze. "What did the Chief want?"

Gus shrugged. "I don't know, it sounded really important."

Shawn was surprised. He took a quick glance over to see if Cinnamon knew what was going on, but she looked just as confused. "How important?"

"Important enough she couldn't give details over the phone."

—————

In the car, they discussed why the Chief needed to see them.

"What is something so important she actually needs a psychic?"

"No idea-"

"I don't know, Shawn." Gus unintentionally interrupted Cinnamon.

She gave him a look, before shaking it off. "Maybe it's got something to do with ghosts."

"Maybe a ghost?" Shawn parroted.

"Must be something like that. Why else would she hire us?" Gus drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

It was quiet for a minute in the car, with Cinnamon looking out the window boredly. Suddenly, she sat up, like she had an idea.

“Hmmmm. I wonder…”

In the reflection of the car window, Shawn watches as Cinnamon sticks her hand towards the radio, placing it directly on top of it. Her eyebrows furrowed.

Nothing happened.

She stayed like that for a minute before going “Oh my fucking-” and just shoved her hand inside of it.

Immediately, it started giving off bursts of staticky sounds. Gus, who wasn’t expecting it, flinched so hard his hands jerked the wheel, and they almost drove right off the road before he quickly righted the car.

“Dude, what was that?” Shawn said this to Cinnamon, but Gus had assumed it was Shawn talking to him.

Even so, he ignored him. “What’s going on with my radio?”

She kept her hand inside, despite the minor commotion, her eyes closed in concentration. Before long, it started playing some music, something that sounded like a mix of grunge and alt rock.

“-Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage~”

Pulling her hand back out of the radio, she grinned. “Oh, fuck yeah, I love The Smashing Pumpkins!”

Apparently, Gus didn’t love them as much as Cinnamon did. He turned it back off, and the car was quiet again.

She frowned at that, looking slightly annoyed, and made a tsch sound. Sticking her hand back into the radio, she turned it on again. This time, something a little more glam rock came on.

“-is there life on Mars?~”

“Great, now my radio’s broken. Fantastic. What am I going to tell my boss?” He lamented, and turned it off again.

She let out a dramatic gasp. “You mother- he turned off Bowie! I’m gonna- ooo I’m gonna kill him. I don’t care if it’s Gus. He just turned off the radio on David Bowie.”

Thankfully, she didn’t, and simply turned the radio back on.

“-We get these pills to swallow~”

Just before Gus goes to turn it off again, Shawn stops him.

“Hey, Gus. Just leave it. I'm pretty sure it's gonna keep turning back on every time you turn it off.”

"So I should just, what, leave it on? This music is terrible."

Cinnamon looked genuinely angered and a bit upset at that. "Oh, he fucking DIDN'T-"

"Yes. I guess just turn the volume down, maybe that'll work." He gave a pointed look at Cinnamon when he said this.

She slumped back in the seat. "Fine."

“…Fine, but I’m getting it fixed later.”

Shawn looks back to the window, and sees her grinning. She had been acting the whole time. Little shit. She leaned forward again and started singing along to the music.

"-Tastes like Gold~"

“-Oh, what you do to me, no one knows~”

——————————

Alright, so if anyone's wondering about what the heck was the deal with the radio: I kinda got the idea that ghosts can manipulate radiowaves (there's a special gadget people can use that uses radiowaves as a form of communicating with ghosts). And since Cinnamon’s technically a spirit, I figured 'why the heck not'? so yea, that's why.

Also: Originally, I WAS going to write some dialogue between Shawn and Gus when we go to the Psych office. but. I decided against it (obv). I might write a oneshot later once the whole book is done being written about their interaction.

songs used (in order): Bullet With Butterfly Wings by The Smashing Pumpkins; Life on Mars by David Bowie; No One Knows by Queens of the Stone Age

ao3 link

Beginning: Prologue

Previous: Chapter 1

Next: Chapter 3

#psych #psych 2006 #psych usa #psych tv #psychusa #shawn spencer #burton guster #psych tv show #psych show #psych fanfiction #fanfic #psych fanfic #toast tries to write

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therealgchu · 2 months

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WIP Wednesday - Surprise To the Shore Snippet!

late post for the day. woke up with a killer migraine, but still went to work. went home when i realized that looking at anything for longer than 5 seconds caused vertigo. came home. so, only been up and at it since 2:30.

i finished the next chapter in To the Shore! but, it won't be published friday, as friday is my 23rd wedding anniversary, and me and the husband are off on a little jaunt. this is the first time we're doing something like this. i'm terribly excited <3. i'll publish it on sunday.

so, today you'll get a sneak peek from the next chapter.

ok, enough of the numbered list. tagging the coemancer crew, as always. you peeps are the best!

branes are funny. Seven Days was begging to be written, and i have about 2/3rds of it done. and, something about working that made some things clearer for To the Shore.

if you want to read the whole thing, it's here on ao3.

if you want to check out Seven Days, it's also here on ao3.

sneak peek incoming!

It took about a week of intermittent work to get the camera in working order. Sam and Barrett helped set up a dark room in the basement of the Lodge, clearing out the spare storage room. Once the work was done, Cora started photographing everything and anything she could find. Walter, once again, was instrumental in assisting her new hobby, as he was her source for acquiring film. He felt it was a good investment as it “recorded Constellation’s endeavors for posterity.”

She had a good eye for composition, but it was quite the learning curve to understand the mechanics of things like aperture speed, film grain, and lenses. And, there was both a craft and an art to developing the film. It was a couple weeks before decent enough photos were produced, for which Cora showed off proudly to the members.

The first batch she showed to her dad, especially one photo of which she was particularly proud of, and thought he’d like. It was of him and Hwa aboard the Razorleaf, with Hwa holding onto his arm and laughing.

“Oh, gum drop,” Sam said, a little choked up, “this is beautiful. My mom used to show me pictures like this. Can I have this?” he asked.

“Of course. I can always make a copy from the negative.”

“Thank you so much,” he whispered to Cora, and hugged her tightly. He let her go, sniffled, and wiped his nose. “I want to get this framed. Have you shown this to Hwa yet?”

“No, I thought you’d like to show it to her.”

Sam smiled widely, “That I would. This is the best gift I think I’ve ever received.” He gave Cora another hug. “Do you know where Hwa is? Is she in her room?”

“No, last I saw her, she was downstairs working on her armor.”

Sam headed down the stairs, two steps at a time, and found Hwa was tinkering with the Mantis helmet, head down and goggles on, soldering servos. He walked over and put his arm around her waist when she stood up. Hwa jumped a little, but calmed when she felt him kiss her neck. “Cora’s first batch of photos are done. I wanted to show this one to you,” he said, and handed her the photograph.

She briefly glanced at it. Her body went rigid and her breathing stopped. She stared at it a couple more seconds, then dropped the picture. She removed his arm from her waist. and without a word, left the basement, leaving Sam flabbergasted.

It took him several seconds to register what happened, it was so unexpected. He picked up the photo and stared at it, trying to see what had affected Hwa negatively. It was just a photo of them on the Razorleaf. He thought he looked kinda goofy, as he was grinning from ear to ear, probably told some terrible dad joke that Hwa loved so much. And, indeed, she was laughing hard, hanging off his arm. There was nothing else in the photo.

He walked back up to see if Hwa went to her room. Finding it empty, he checked the rest of the Lodge. No Hwa. He paused for a minute, and thought about where she would be. He headed to the Waterfall Promenade.

#starfield #sam coe #fanfic #fanfiction #space husband #hwa kim #space cowboy #coemancer #to the shore #spacefarer #the coemancer crew #therealgchu writes

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tarabyte3 · 10 months

Text

The Devil Makes Us Sin

Fandom: Luther, Luther: The Fallen Sun

Pairing: David Robey/F!Reader

Chapter 3/? (10.1k words)

->start at chapter 1<-

<- Chapter 2

AO3 Link

Playlist

Summary: Your life isn't perfect, and you don't enjoy moonlighting as a camgirl for so many repulsive men, but you need the money and it's yours. You're getting by just fine. You're content.

At least you thought you were. Then you get a strange text message. And you aren't sure if you're horrified or intrigued.

Warnings: Explicit rating, smut, stalking, spying, blackmail, manipulation, dubcon, dubious consent, Dom/sub, sadism, masochism, unprotected sex, oral sex, masturbation, mutual masturbation, choking, dirty talk, praise, humiliation, possessive love, yandere, minor description of gore, minor description of violence, murder, discussion of murder, shame involving sex work, light shaming of sex work, emotionally abusive mother, troubled mother/daughter relationship, sexual harassment, workplace sexual harassment

A/N: First: New warnings in the tags! There are details about previous workplace sexual harassment discussed in this chapter. Those details include unwanted touching of the arm and back, as well as unwanted comments from a superior (no specific comments are listed). Second: HI, I'VE MISSED YOU ALL. And I've been writing! 😏

Work title is from "Paradise Circus" by Massive Attack. Chapter title is from "I Await the Devil's Coming" by Mary MacLane. Text divider 1 is from Alessandro Magnasco's Interrogations in Jail. Text divider 2 is from Clément-Auguste Andrieux's Allegory of Death.

Also I've done some improvements on the way I'm handling chapter collages from now on.

Chapter 3 - My Life is Longing for the Sight of You

The next day, you show up to work in black heeled boots, tight black pants, and a silky black camisole. You had a black blazer as well, but it's currently hanging on the back of your chair. The removal of it is what tied the statement of your outfit together, in your opinion. Which is, "I don't want to be here."

However, the temperature inside the building is surprisingly chilly and your arms have gooseflesh. Part of you suspects someone turned down the heat to force you to put the jacket back on because they were too cowardly to approach you directly. It's amazing how effective a simple no is to people that aren't used to hearing the word no. It makes them afraid of hearing it again. So you're toughing it out just in case you're correct. Because you're enjoying seeing how far you can push them and you aren't about to give in now.

It's later in the afternoon, when you're feeling bored and scrolling absentmindedly on your work computer, that David sends you a photo.

There's no message and it isn't a selfie. But it is a picture. One taken from a balcony seating area—likely for a fancy restaurant or bar based on a table in the background—looking out over the city. In the bottom of the photo is a pair of crossed legs and feet propped up on a small footrest, as if the person taking the photo was leaning back slightly and relaxing when they snapped it. They're wearing fitted navy pants and very expensive looking brown oxford dress shoes. You stare at in confusion for a moment until—

It's him, you realize.

Those are his legs.

Which means he took a photo in the middle of his day, from his current point of view, and sent it to you. Unprompted. And he let you see a part of him. Only from the knees down, but it's still more than you had before.

You stare at the photo greedily, barely taking in the lovely view, as if his shins and feet might reveal something about him. Other than the fact that his shoes alone probably cost as much as your entire wardrobe.

You wonder if he's watching your face as you look at it. If he can see the shock and delight in your expression. You wouldn't be surprised if he wanted to see your reaction, so you smile into the camera. Just in case.

You send him a selfie back of you leaning your elbow on your desk with your chin in your hand and staring at your work computer in boredom.

Then you text him, "Your view is much better than mine."

Arguable. Mine doesn't have you in it.

Fascinating search results, by the way. Any particular reason you're looking at beds?

You flush with embarrassment as you read his message and remember what you'd been doing before he messaged you. Which is finally looking into replacing your old bed. You'd been so distracted by the photo, you'd completely forgotten. But of course he noticed.

"Yeah, my mattress is ancient and uncomfortable, and now I can afford a new one. It's called research."

I see. A king is awfully large for just one person.

The blush deepens, stoking to embers, and begins to radiate through your chest. There's a corresponding quiver of interest in your core. "I'm spoiling myself because I deserve it. Though I see your point. It might feel terribly lonely lying there all by myself."

You should get a big teddy bear to keep you company :)

You stare in indignation at your phone. He…he did not. Well so much for trying to flirt! And a smiley face of all things? God, he's infuriating.

"Maybe I will!"

You angrily toss your phone face down onto your desk and go back to scrolling. You're just as unfocused as before, but you're much more alert with irritation now. You'd think he'd want to flirt with you, but apparently he can't help himself when he sees an opportunity to get a rise out of you. And you gave him exactly what he wanted, you think to yourself.

It only takes a few minutes before you're glancing down at your phone again. He hasn't texted you first since he…well, since he blackmailed and threatened you. So that makes this new and interesting. It also expands whatever this is beyond just your computer. Makes it feel more real. It also means he was going about his day, thought about you, and wanted to share. It's almost sweet.

But was that his intention? To be sweet? Is he trying to woo you now rather than just make you a horny wreck? Or was there a reason? Something in the background you should have noticed that you were too distracted to see? Because you recognized one of the buildings just from having lived here so long, but it's nowhere near your apartment or work. It's a much nicer section of town that you rarely frequent—on your salary? Please. So there doesn't seem to be anything of importance about the area. Which means maybe he was just thinking about you.

Or—and this one seems most likely—he wanted to make sure you were thinking about him. And what better way to get your attention than including something as harmless as his feet in the photo. 'Well, it worked, didn't it?' You think.

With a frustrated sigh you pick your phone back up. There haven't been any new messages from him, which means he's probably very pleased with himself.

"You seem like you're having a relaxing afternoon."

I finished a meeting and now I'm enjoying myself.

"Business or pleasure?"

Business. My pleasurable meetings look much different.

"Do you have many pleasurable meetings?"

FAR fewer than I would like.

As you're trying to figure out a saucy reply he can't be an ass about, he sends you another photo. This one's of an elegant tumbler—likely made of crystal by the look of it—with a bit of dark amber liquid at the bottom. And it's being tilted and held by a hand for the camera.

His hand.

It's a photo of his hand.

You nearly drop your phone as your grip weakens from the shock, but you quickly regain control of it. Then you practically shove the screen to your nose to look, eagerly devouring another breadcrumb he's given you. And if you also zoom in to examine it more closely, who could really blame you?

He has lightly tanned skin, well groomed nails, and thick fingers, all of which are intriguing enough on their own. But what really catches your eye is the masculine swath of hair on the back of his hand that disappears up his wrist and into the edge of the photo. You also can't help but notice that it's definitely the hand of an older man. Which, for you, is not a deal breaker. In fact, it only intrigues you further. And god, the way he's holding that glass—gripping the sides with his pointer finger resting on the rim—is so casual and erotic.

You imagine those hands typing out every single thing he's ever said to you, moving expertly over his keyboard or the touchscreen of his phone. You imagine him looking at your picture as that hand unzips his pants, seeking to find release at the sight of you.

The thought of him in motion causes the dam within you to finally burst. Now you're very fucking turned on and left squirming and fantasizing about it in your cubicle.

You can't deny you want that hand on you. You want to discover how strong it is, to feel his touch along your face, and see just how gentle or rough he would be. You want to learn all the pain and pleasure that hand has caused while it's between your legs and drawing moans out of you.

Jesus, if this is what seeing just his hand does to you, what would seeing the rest of him do?!

"Whiskey?"

Close. Scotch.

"Looks satisfying. I bet it would warm me up nicely right now." You send the text with a very self satisfied, if a little sweaty, smile on your face. Because though you had been freezing before, you're practically radiating heat now.

It would.

"Yeah? I would love to get my lips on it and savor it on my tongue."

I would share if you were here with me.

"Oh, I don't know if that would be such a good idea. I make a lot of noise when I'm enjoying something."

Hmm. We can't have that, now, can we? And I certainly wouldn't want you to hold back. I suppose it's something better enjoyed with some privacy, then.

"I would like that."

Would you?

You stare at your phone.

You know what he's asking under the layers of flirting and innuendo. And it's not if you would enjoy a drink with him. It's if you've made up your mind about whether or not you would enjoy him. If your answer has changed since last night.

You also know you only have seconds to respond before he takes the break between messages as hesitation. And isn't that exactly what this is? You're absolutely hesitating. Because you still have so many questions to ask him first!

But you've seen something physical now. Tangible pieces of him that are coming together to wrap themselves around the frame of a personality that you've gotten better at reading, even through text. It's not a whole picture—of course it's not—but it's like seeing a figure take shape as it's being sculpted from a block of marble.

"Soon, I should think. I'm starting to find a lot of reasons to say yes."

In that case, I'm looking forward to our chat tonight.

"So am I. I should be home in about 2 hours."

I'll be waiting.

Also, if you're already spoiling yourself, I'm a big fan of silk sheets, personally.

You let out a distressed noise and do your best to steady your hands long enough to type out, "I'll keep that in mind."

Before the end of the day, you head into your boss's office to let him know you're using the last of your vacation days next week, so you'll only be in on Monday. Which would make that your last day instead. Which also means you only have two more days left in that hellhole before you're truly free.

You can tell he wants to say no to you—is actively working up the courage to do just that—so you fix him with an unimpressed stare.

"I am still entitled to those days, and I have no other time to schedule them. I'm also giving you more than the company's required forty eight hours notice. I'm not seeing the conflict."

"That sounds like poor planning on your part and therefore not my problem," he says, dismissively, barely sparing you a glance. "No."

"Would you prefer if I involved HR in the discussion? For your comfort, of course." To your delight, he finally looks up at you. "After all, I did have some emails I've been meaning to forward them before I leave anyway. It would save me so much time!" There's a cheerful, false innocence to your tone that makes him flinch.

"There's no need," he replies curtly. "The matter is settled."

"Of course." You shift on your feet. "How's your wife, by the way? I haven't spoken to her since the company holiday party. Such a delightful woman. It might be lovely to catch up with her some day." You let the threat hang in the air.

You can see the moment he relents. The way his shoulders sag with defeat and acceptance. You're going to vividly remember that moment for a very long time. "Fine. You may have your days off. Anything else?"

"Nope!" You smirk at him in triumph as he glowers back at you. You're almost sad that the conversation is over so you can't push him further. However, as you move to leave, you get an idea of how to do exactly that. You stop and turn back to him, trying to keep the excitement from creeping onto your face. "Actually, if you prefer, tomorrow could be my last day instead."

He stares at you with all the anger and irritation that has been building up inside of him the past several days. The exact vitriol you've been deliberately fueling. The sight of it makes your heart pound, but not in fear like it might have once. You're elated. You wanted this confrontation—to meet him on even ground for the first time. You don't have to put up with his bullshit and his creepy attention. You don't have to walk on eggshells, straddling that line between rejecting his advances and not pissing him off for fear that he might fire you. And he hates that you aren't that person anymore. Because that person he could control and take advantage of. But you? That he cannot touch. And, as you stare, bold and unbowed back at him, you can tell he knows it.

"I can do you one better. You're free to go and not return at all, if you'd like. Your time here is done," he says through gritted teeth.

"I do like! Thank you!" You grin at him. "But one more thing before I go." The smile falls from your face, as if hadn't been there at all. You fix him with a thin lipped, hate filled glare as you take three controlled steps forward so you're towering over his desk. Even though he's on the other side of it, he leans away in surprise. When you speak again, your voice comes out pure venom—harsh and dangerous.

"You are a small, pathetic man. You hide how weak you are by flexing your power over the people beneath you because it brings you joy to feel in control. But you aren't, no matter how much you pretend to be. You're still weak. You should be ashamed of your behavior. I'll be glad to go the rest of my life never having your offensive hands on me again. I should have ripped them off for your audacity. You're not worthy of touching me so how dare you ever think you had the privilege, let alone the right." You lean in closer. "You disgust me. Someday you will fall from the grace you exploit, and my only regret is that I won't be here to see you hit the ground when you do." Then you straighten up and casually brush out your blazer. He stares up at you, pale and speechless, with his mouth agape in shock. "No need for an escort. I can see my own way out."

You leave his office feeling high and weightless from the pleasure of finally getting to tell him the truth about what you truly think of him. You haven't felt like this since one of your streams, but this is that feeling magnified. Because, despite your similar disdain for them, in a way those men had been stand-ins. Now you got to say all of it directly to him and without hiding. It seeps, distilled into your belly and your chest and spreads to your fingertips and down to your toes.

It's intoxicating.

When you walk through the door to your flat, you only stop to lock it behind you. Then you scurry towards the bedroom, tossing your purse to the floor, shedding your blazer, and pulling your boots off one at a time as you go, leaving a discarded trail behind you. You head straight for the chair.

You aren't nervous about clicking the link this time. You're excited. The anticipation has been building up inside of you all day, and it only got worse after his texts. You're looking forward to learning more about him and seeing what he has to say. To you, about you—all of it. You don't even stop to consider whether or not you feel ashamed or concerned or scared this time. Or whether or not you should be.

Why should you be? You're capable. Smart. Perceptive—you've even caught him off guard a few times already, and you're confident he liked it. That it's part of what drew him to you in the first place. So if he is luring you into some kind of trap, you're looking for the wires and watching where you step. You don't think he is, though. Or at the very least, you believe him when he said the thing he wanted out of it was you.

Is it still a trap if you walk into it willingly and give him what he wants? If you offer yourself up in consecration? Because you plan on doing just that—the sacrificial lamb yearning for the wolf's jaws. You're prepared to receive his sacrament, just to see how much you might enjoy it.

Really, now the only question left is when.

As the site loads, you hold your breath until you see that black box waiting there for you in the corner of the screen. Then the air and tension bleed out of you in a sigh, leaving an eager thrill behind.

You smile into the camera. "Hello, David."

I could get used to that.

"Used to what?" You notice he changed his username to his name, rather than the ridiculous one he had before.

You, pleased to see me.

"I suppose you should continue to please me, then." You let slip a small grin.

I plan to.

"Oh? Then I'm even further pleased to hear it."

How pleased?

"Ah, but that would be telling. Where's the fun in that?"

I see I'm creating a monster.

"You really have no one to blame for this but yourself," you laugh. "But don't pretend you aren't enjoying it immensely."

I am. Immensely.

Did you miss me?

"I did a bit, yeah." Your cheeks grow warm at the admission. One which is actually an understatement.

You're not usually the sentimental or mushy type. In fact, you usually find that part of dating—if that's what you can even call this—to be frustrating. You kept your partners at arm's length in the past. To the point they inevitably accused you of being cold and distant. 'Another form of survival,' you realize. You couldn't let any of them close enough to see, otherwise they might accuse you of being worse. Now it's mortifying to know how much you really did miss him, and how quickly you've ended up here. Because all of this is new.

Good.

"Hearing from you this afternoon helped, though."

I'll have to remember that.

"I hope you do. And for the record," you glance up at the camera through your eyelashes as you lean in closer, "I was never talking about the Scotch."

Neither was I.

It WAS good Scotch, though.

"It wasn't nice to send me those photos while I was at work, but it was nice to get them." In a lower voice you add, "I liked seeing glimpses of you."

Did you?

"I did." Your blush runs hot as you remember every dirty fantasy you had about his hands on you for nearly an hour afterwards. How you had to stop looking at beds and silk sheets because it only made your affliction worse.

That's exactly why I sent them. I enjoyed the thought of you bothered at your desk.

"How do you know I was bothered?" You asked pointedly.

Are you denying it?

"Not at all. And you're not answering the question."

I told you. I like pressing your buttons. I've worked very hard to figure out what they are so I can do just that.

"I'm sure. And here I thought you just missed me, too." You give the camera a fake pout. "Cruel."

I never said I was a nice man.

"I suppose you haven't. And I suppose I wouldn't be so intrigued if you were."

This is also why I didn't want you distracted. Imagine if you'd had the freedom to respond to me.

Like you wanted to.

You suck in a breath and your eyes become heavy lidded at the implication. How would you have responded if you'd been at home? Well, you certainly would have flirted a lot harder. Or you would have sent a spicy selfie back to regain some power with the hope he might have given you just a little bit more of himself in return.

But you remember how worked up you got simply sitting there, thinking about him—and occasionally looking back at the photo. How you had crossed your legs and shifted uncomfortably while you tried not to squirm into your chair. Would you have…touched yourself? To the thought of him? The fantasy of his hands forces its way to the front of your mind. Of that casual pointer finger tracing along your jaw, and your body immediately responds with a slick, fluttering heat between your legs. You decide that, yes, you absolutely would have.

Wait…

Shit.

You suddenly realize that's what he actually means by responding to him. It's not texting back or being able to chat with him. He wants you to allow yourself to react to him. To get so worked up, so overcome with need, that you get off to the thought of him. Which you can't do at work. God, that's… 'tempting,' your mind offers.

"Well, I have some excellent news there." You try to tuck that realization away so you can regather your composure. For now. "Today was my last day at that shitty job. I don't have to go back to finish out the two weeks." Then, with a full understanding now of what it means, you add, "So no more distractions."

Is that so? That is excellent news.

How did you manage it? Or did you get bored of scrolling?

"No, I'm just very persuasive." You give the camera a smug look.

You are that.

"I also told my boss he was disgusting before I left. That felt fucking incredible," you nearly moan. "I've wanted to do that for years."

Then you've had a very good day so far.

"I really have," you say with a wistful smile.

However, as you think about why it felt incredible, the expression slowly falls from your face until it's replaced with a scowl. "He deserved far worse than what I gave him, though. That asshole used to stand behind me at my computer and touch my arm and back, or lean against me when he bent over to look at my screen. God, and he would try to get his face really close to mine, as if I might find it erotic or kiss him or something. I'd have to lean away in my chair for him to finally stop. He would also proposition me in his office and say suggestive things whenever he sent me an email because he was that confident in his ability to never face consequences. And he was right. He never did." You let out a disgusted sigh.

"When I was new, a couple of my coworkers complained to HR, and do you know what happened?" You don't wait for an answer. "All he had to do was watch a short video on sexual harassment. He never got a warning or written up. There was no follow up. Then they got fired for it. Not right away, but eventually the company found a bullshit reason to let them go, and soon there was someone new at their desk. We all knew the truth, though. That's why I never reported him. I knew it was pointless. It wasn't just him, either. It was several of the men that worked there. It's like they attracted men like him while the rest of them did nothing to stop it. We all learned quickly who to stay away from to avoid being easy prey."

By the time you're done talking, you're tense and clenching with anger. That place was a miserable, violating hellhole, and he was scum. You can't believe you put up with it for so long. You should have quit years ago! Why didn't you? Oh, right. Because men like that are easier to fool and distract so you didn't have to work as hard to blend in. Why would they care about your mask when your tits are right there?

You come out of your sudden rant and momentary introspection only to notice the chat box hasn't updated since his last message.

"David?" You call out. "Are you there?"

Nothing.

You wonder if your connection went bad as you were talking. Or if you've upset him by telling him all of those things and now he doesn't know what to say. If so, you can't really blame him. Once you started talking and finally got the chance to let it all out, you didn't hold back. Maybe you should have. How is anyone supposed to respond to that?

"Sorry, I didn't mean to dump all of that on you without warning. I know it's fucking horrible."

Not at all. I was just looking into something.

"Oh." There's a flicker of hurt in your chest. He'd been multitasking while you were talking? You know he never promised you his full attention, you just kind of assumed you would have it. Especially when you were opening up. Maybe…maybe that assumption was a miscalculation on your part. Maybe some truths are more important to him than others.

I'm sure walking out of there after all of that felt liberating.

"It did."

That's good.

"Indeed." You smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes because he seems…off. Or at least not prepared with a response or comment like he usually is, which sets off alarm bells in your mind. "Is everything alright?"

No.

"Oh. I—" You cut yourself off when you see another response pop up on screen.

I'm furious.

"About my job?" You ask, both hopeful and uncertain after thinking he was distracted. Maybe he had been paying some attention after all.

Yes.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to ruin the—"

Stop apologizing.

You don't have to apologize to me for what he did.

"S—" You start and then stop yourself with a huff of frustration. "Damn. I suppose I still have a few bad habits to work through."

Would you like to know what I was looking up?

"Sure," you say, a bit wary. Because you assumed he was looking up something that had nothing to do with you. Now you aren't so sure.

Dirt.

"Dirt?" You furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

Everyone has a secret, don't they? Something they keep hidden from everyone else that they're ashamed of getting out.

You feel a wave of involuntary shame about your secret before you remind yourself you have nothing to be ashamed of. You never did. Just another form of survival. And one you chose at that. There's a certain kind of power in that knowledge. Besides, it led you to him, didn't it?

I'm looking for theirs. The truth that will hurt them back.

"Oh." You're left staring at your screen in shock. You aren't sure how to respond to that because you hadn't even considered retaliation to be an option. Nor had you stopped to consider that he could dig into other people the same way he dug into your life. But now, after the way he phrased it, you're suddenly confident you were far from his first time doing so. "Why?"

For doing that to you.

Your heart skips a beat. He's angry on your behalf. No one has ever been angry enough on your behalf to do something about it. Especially not something like…this. Between his willingness to dig up dirt on someone else, and everything else he's done, you realize now that he's not one for comforting words or condolences. He acts.

For you.

Okay, he might not be a nice man, but he is sweet. Sweet, of course, being a relative term, considering what he actually plans to do. Which should be objectively horrifying, but you only find yourself touched by his anger.

But this is for you, so I will only use it if you tell me to.

"Alright," you whisper, still stunned and overwhelmed by what he's offering you. It feels like you're being handed a loaded weapon, and it's pointed at someone you loathe. How easy it would be to pull that trigger. How easy it would be to let it happen. How tempting…

Would you like me to?

Would you? You're not sure. It depends on what he digs up and the collateral damage it would cause. Would it be something that forces the company to shut down? Would your coworkers lose their jobs? All because of you?

Or…wait. Do you even care if they do? Your instinct was to worry and feel guilty, almost like a reflex. But if you push past that and dig deeper, to the core of yourself, do you actually care?

While they weren't your boss, they didn't make your experience there good by any means. You couldn't grab lunch or a coffee without having to listen to them talk about something pointless. Or worse, they cornered you and talked at you when all you wanted was to be left alone. And you know it wasn't because they wanted to talk to you or because they cared about you. They cared about having an audience.

Besides, it's not your fault they were also victims. It's not on you to feel guilty. All you should be worrying about right now is yourself. So if you do care at all, it certainly doesn't outweigh the yearning for vengeance. You're certain they would retaliate if they weren't afraid. They would unleash that deep anger, too. You just happen to be the one that got lucky enough to actually do so.

"Do it," you growl out. "Make them pay."

That's my girl.

His girl. A pleasant flush spreads up your neck. That's the first time he's ever tried to lay claim to you, and he did it in a way that was easy and confident. Almost unassuming. If you were a less perceptive woman, the implication of it might have escaped your notice. Maybe he was hoping it would.

Now the question becomes: Are you going to let him have that claim? Are you going to let him think of you as his? The idea sends desire coiling through your belly, and you know you're not only going to let him, you're going to embrace it. Because you like it. You want it.

Look at yourself right now. Look at how beautiful you are.

You stare at yourself on the screen. Your cheeks are flushed, your lips are parted in a pant, and your eyes are wide with hunger and excitement. There's a cruel, satisfied curl to your mouth. It almost looks like a snarl trying to blossom on your face.

You look beautiful and terrible.

What are you feeling?

"I feel…" Your gaze wanders around the room as you try to find a way to put the immensity of it into words. "I feel powerful. As though everything I once feared can no longer touch me. And I feel ravenous, like I want more of that." You close your eyes to help you focus deeper inward. "I feel almost high off of it. I got the same feeling on camera and when I towered over my boss and made him feel small. It's a rush. A euphoria. And...I feel pleased. Grateful." You open your eyes and glance seductively into the camera. "A little turned on."

It feels good, doesn't it?

"Good?!" There's a note of hysteria to the laughter that bubbles out of you. "David, it feels fucking amazing! I've never felt like this before."

I told you I planned to continue pleasing you.

"God, yes you did. And you certainly have." You let out a sigh and your expression softens. "I don't know how to convey my gratitude. You've done so much for me, I…"

No, none of that. I assure you, doing so is my pleasure. And you have my word that I'll go back to digging later. But right now, I have you here on my screen and I'm not about to waste another moment of it.

Especially not when you look so lovely.

"Thank you." You give the camera a coy smile. "I enjoy your flattery."

It's not flattery, it's the truth.

"Well, I enjoy it, nonetheless."

Speaking of the truth, I have a question for you.

"What's that?" You lean forward, suddenly interested.

Were you upset when I told you I'd been looking into something?

'Shit,' you think as you bite at your bottom lip in hesitation. You hoped he hadn't noticed, but of course he fucking noticed. "I was."

Why?

"I got emotional talking about my job, that's all." You shrug in an attempt to brush it off as nothing, hoping he'll accept that.

You're side stepping the question.

But of course he didn't. "That's because it's silly and not worth bringing up."

I beg to differ.

"Fine," you sigh in defeat. "I just…I thought you had been working on something unrelated while I was talking, and I guess it hurt my feelings. But like I said, it wasn't a rational response. I was already upset."

Did you think I wasn't paying attention while you were being honest?

"Yes. I know now you were, obviously. That's why it was ridiculous."

And why would the thought that I wasn't paying attention hurt your feelings?

"Because…" You trail off and your hands begin to fidget in your lap. You know he's asking you to be vulnerable again and that makes you uncomfortable. There are some truths that are still difficult to say out loud. But you also know now he's going to get you to admit it anyway, so you may as well get it over with. "Because I wanted you to listen. I wanted you to...want to listen. But I realized you never promised me your full attention and I shouldn't just expect it. That was unfair of me."

Hmm. I think there's been some miscommunication and it's my fault. Because you're making assumptions about me and what I want, which means I haven't been clear enough.

Your heart sinks. "No, some of that is my fault for making those assumptions in the first place."

Let me finish.

"Alright." There's tension in your shoulders and ice in your veins as you brace yourself for him to confirm that you shouldn't expect it.

I want you to be honest with me.

"I have been," you protest softly.

No. I don't mean tell me the truth.

I want you to be honest WITH me. Do you understand?

You blink in confusion as you try to process the difference between those two, almost identical statements. "I...don't quite think I do."

I realize now that I've made it seem as though I wanted to see you without your mask just because your complexity makes you more physically attractive. I won't deny that it does. You know that I want you. I want to see your naked body right here on my screen. I want to watch you pleasure yourself for me while I get off to it. Then I want to run my hands along every inch of you. I want to kiss you, and I want to fuck you so hard and so deep neither of us can speak. I want that. I want to take you and claim you as mine.

"Jesus, David," you whimper. As you read all the things he wants from you—your mind supplying you with the corresponding images and phantom sensations of each one—you can feel the responding heat and lust swelling urgently between your thighs. It leaves your sex throbbing painfully against the crotch of your tight pants, which had seemed like such a good idea that morning. You shift your hips, both needing to ease the pressure and seeking more of it against the damp cloth.

By the time you're done reading, the need is radiating up your torso, causing a violent fluttering in your belly. And there's a new paragraph for you to read.

You swallow hard, unsure how you can endure more.

But it's not all I want. I told you I see something in you that mirrors something in me. What I didn't say is that I've never seen that reflection before. I've never found the possibility of understanding or of being seen back. That's why you intrigue me so much.

People bore and disgust me, too, but you? God, you are something entirely different. I desire the truth of you because I desire what I see inside of you just as much as what I see on the outside.

It's not butterflies in your stomach. It's a flock of starlings—a twisting mass, swirling and diving through your guts on a thousand sets of wings. It aches just as much as your arousal does.

So I'll state it now so you never doubt me again.

You will always have my full attention because I can't look away from you. The more you shed your mask and grow into your own skin, the harder it's getting to remember anything else matters. I also want to listen to you. Every word, but especially when you're being honest. And I didn't say it earlier, but I missed you today, too. Because I missed you before you even spoke to me. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since I found you. My obsession with you has driven me nearly mad. You've ruined me for anything that isn't you. That's how much I want all of you.

Now do you understand? I want you to be mine in every way it's possible to want someone. I want you completely.

"Yes," you breathe out automatically, your voice barely audible. "I understand now."

Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your sternum pulse and flex with every beat. You wonder if he can see it. You hope he can. You hope he can see the way he's left you breathless—your shoulders heaving as you desperately try to fill your lungs. The way your bottom lip trembles with every inhale.

You hope he can see all of that so he knows how affected and enraptured you are by him because you don't know what the fuck to say. That was the hottest and most romantic thing anyone has ever said to you. And it was said by a man that stalked you. A man you've never even seen before. It's as if he exists in your periphery and you can never turn your head fast enough to catch him.

"God, David. I'm…" You trail off helplessly.

You're what?

"Overwhelmed," you blurt out.

I won't apologize for it because that was my intention. Now you won't forget a word of it.

Will you?

"No. I don't think I could. No one's ever said even half of those things to me before."

That's a pity. You deserve to hear it.

But I won't deny that I'm also glad no one has. That the privilege has been mine and mine alone.

"Will you turn your camera on? Please," you beg, uncaring about how desperate you sound. "I need to see you."

No.

You let out a noise of frustration. "Why not? After everything you just said to me, I still don't get to see your face?"

I want to be able to look into your eyes the first time you see me.

"Fuck," you whimper. Now you can't even be angry anymore because he somehow made it even more romantic and devastatingly sexy. You take in a deep calming breath, which helps your nerves somewhat, but there's still a quiver in your voice when you continue. "If I'm being honest, the thought of that terrifies me at the moment."

Why?

"Because it makes me feel vulnerable in a way I've never felt before. Like no matter how much clothing I'm wearing, I'm still naked because you strip me bare. And that's just through text." You shake your head in disbelief. "Everything you've said to me, every light you've shone on my dark corners, it's as if the whole of me is being seen for the first time. Even though that part of me is this…unused, wretched thing, I can't stay in the dark anymore. I can't stand it. So I can't help but wonder how much more overwhelming it would be to stand in front of you and have your full attention."

Does that mean you're done hesitating?

"Am I?" You wonder out loud, as much to yourself as to him. "You're still such a mystery to me, but after that, I realize I don't care. I want to know you. Though," a puff of laughter leaves your lips, "in a strange way I feel like I already do. It's as if I'm living with a ghost. I can see you without seeing you. I'm always aware of you now no matter what I'm doing. You haunt me, David, and I can't stop thinking about you either. So, even though it scares me, for the first time in my life I actually want to be vulnerable. With you. For you."

You reach for the strap of your cami, intending to slide it off your shoulder—wanting to push it off and let the shirt pool around your waist. You want to bare more of yourself to him. You want him to see. Because, god help you, you realize you want all of that, too. In a way you've never felt before. Like a constant yearning clawing its way from your belly, up into your throat, choking you with it. And you don't know what that means, but you want it.

However, before your hand can even touch the fabric, your phone buzzes loudly on the desk next to you, causing the whole surface to vibrate.

You'd been so focused—so entirely consumed by him, that the sudden noise startles you. You look at it, baffled by the interruption, as it continues to rattle the desk. Then you realize: Someone's calling you. No, not someone. Your stomach sinks as you stare down at your screen in horror.

It's your mother.

"Fuck," you hiss. You scramble to pick up the phone and mute the ringer. At the very least, you need the vibrating to stop so you can have a second to fucking think.

As you hold it, your hands tremble. You're full of adrenaline from being startled and from seeing the caller ID. You're also fraught with violent emotion from the conversation you were having, as well as nerves from what you had been moments away from doing. You were going to take that next leap. You wanted to take it. With him. Instead you'd been interrupted.

You don't believe in fate, but you certainly believe in your mother's ability to ruin something, even unknowingly.

But why is she calling you? She can't possibly know what happened today, you tell yourself. How would she even find out? So she isn't calling to scold you or berate you. Probably. About this, anyway. There's still the likelihood of some perceived slight. What does she want then? After only half a second's hesitation, you send her to voicemail. Because you really don't fucking care either way. Let her stew. You mute your ringer for good measure.

Is something wrong?

"No, nothing." In your distraction, the lie comes—involuntary—out of your mouth.

I wouldn't even need to hear your voice to know that you're lying.

You wince and look back up at the camera. "You're right, I realized the moment I said it. I apologize, that wasn't intentional. It's just…" You struggle to find the words to make him understand. Then you realize you don't have any to convey what you're feeling or why you're feeling it, so you settle for blunt honesty instead. "It was my mother."

Do you need to leave?

"No!" You immediately protest. "Absolutely not!"

Alright.

Then is that something else you would want to talk about?

"It—" You cut yourself off before you can say anything more. Because god, that's a whole different can of worms you haven't looked at too closely yet. It's the mess in the corner you've been trying to pretend doesn't exist because you know sorting through it will be exhausting. Now you're running out of excuses to continue leaving it, and, in doing so, are letting the fear of it win.

"I think that's something I still have to work through somewhat on my own and come back to later. Besides, right now I get to talk to you and I'm not about to waste a moment of it." You smile softly as you echo his words back to him.

I'm glad to hear that.

Your heart is still pounding and your fingers still itch to take your shirt off. Instead you sit there and try to pretend none of that is happening.

What would you like to talk about now then? Any new revelations?

Or perhaps any new decisions?

You blush at the question. You suspect he could tell exactly what you were about to do because he sees you so clearly—and you still want to. Fuck, do you still want to. However, after the emotional turbulence you just went through, your mind is in turmoil despite what your body wants. And when you take that next step, you want to be deep in that moment again. You want your mind and body focused entirely on him.

"I think you were just privy to my biggest revelation. Which is that I rather like the thought of vengeance." You try to give the camera a playful grin to lighten the mood.

It's a very human response to pain.

Relief washes over you as he decides to play along rather than push, even though you know it's likely a calculated move on his part rather than for your comfort. "So is guilt, but I don't feel any of that."

Did you when I first suggested it?

"I did."

Why?

"I'm not sure. Another habit, I suppose." You shrug. "I felt like I should feel guilty because other people could get hurt. Then I realized those assholes getting what they deserve would always have collateral damage. Being afraid of it has probably stilled too many hands already. And I realized I simply don't care. It's not my fault, and I don't owe them anything." Saying it out loud causes you to wince. "That's probably terrible, isn't it?"

No. I think you may be surprised by how often the guilt many people feel is actually just shame for the absence of guilt. Once again, the only difference is honesty.

"Well, I'm currently feeling neither."

That's good. There's no reason you should. Our sense of morality is a societal concept. Shame is taught, but it can be unlearned.

"Once I realized that, it was an easy decision to make."

What do you hope happens with all of it? What outcome do you want most of all?

You glance up to stare directly into the camera, your expression vengeful and determined. "I want that place to burn, and I want every moment of it to hurt."

God, you're incredible.

Then I'll do my best to give you that.

"I have every confidence you will. I can attest to how thorough you are." You raise an eyebrow in challenge.

You can, can't you?

You can feel his smirk through the screen. "You've done this before." It's not a question.

I have.

"Many times."

Yes. Does that bother you?

"Not really. It answers a few questions and raises a few more, though."

Such as?

"What is it that you do? You're rich, you're good with technology, and you…what, dig into and stalk people in your free time?"

Not exactly.

"What, then? Are you some sort of entrepreneur?"

You could say that, in a way. I used to work in the financial sector. It paid incredibly well, but didn't give me what I wanted. It did give me my start and teach me to be very talented with money, however. Now I invest in things that pique my interest. Sometimes that's new technology. Sometimes it's my own personal amusement.

Does that satisfy your curiosity?

"It does a bit, actually." It doesn't answer how he found you, but it's a start. You tilt your head as you consider the screen and lean in closer. "Is that why you were in a meeting?"

Yes. I was getting an update on a business proposal.

"What for?"

Are you actually curious or are you just being polite? Because I would hate to bore you.

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to know or if I thought I might get bored," you say honestly. Because you find that you actually do want to hear about it when it's coming from him. "I'm just trying to figure out who you are."

It was for an online security company.

And yes, I'm aware of the irony.

"I didn't say anything!" You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling. "I did think it immediately, however."

Investing in something like that has its uses. It opens up a lot of opportunities for me to do what I do. But I meant it when I said I don't want to bore you. It's not as interesting as it might seem, and I truly don't make a habit of discussing work. It's a means to an end and nothing more.

"Alright, then no work talk." You relax back into your chair.

I suppose we've both reached our quota for the evening, haven't we?

"That we most certainly have. Although…" Excitement washes over you as you remember something specific you wanted to ask him from earlier today. "I did think of a few more questions after you texted me at work."

Did you?

"I did. Because I'm still so very curious about you, David."

Then by all means, ask away.

You don't hesitate or stop to think. "How old are you?"

Ah, these kinds of questions.

"Indeed, these kinds of questions. I can't see you or hear your voice, so this is all I have to build my mental image of you until I can."

How old do you think I am?

"Based on your hands, I would guess in your fifties. No younger than late forties."

Because of my hands?

"Yes. I can tell the difference between a boy and a man. Prominent veins, slight wrinkles, variations in your skin tone."

Perhaps I should be self conscious.

"Don't be. I rather like your hands. They're just…very telling." You squirm slightly in your seat as you think about them again. And what exactly they might tell you in the future.

Then I'll be pleased instead.

Anything else you could tell from just photos?

"Your nails are very well groomed and your shoes are well polished, so I suspect you put the same amount of care into the rest of your appearance. And you have nice, but expensive tastes. Particularly in shoes." Then with a hint of a smile, you add, "Likely in alcohol as well."

Correct on all accounts. You're very astute.

"I am." You grin while trying not to think about how those observations were likely due to the amount of times you looked at the photos rather than due to being particularly astute. "In fact, I can't help but notice you haven't actually answered my question."

Clever.

I'm 58.

"Hmm, a little older than I would have guessed."

Does that bother you?

"Not even a little. I find older men to be far more attractive, and their experience more rewarding."

Is that so? How much experience do you imagine I have?

"Enough." You give the camera a flirty smile. "You're too charming not to have lived a little."

I've been called many things, but charming is rarely one of them.

"Perhaps they didn't deserve it. Or were too dull to notice." The expression on your face softens with affection. "I find you to be quite charming."

Do you find it odd that you find the man that blackmailed you charming?

"No," you reply without hesitation. "Should I?"

I'm sure most people would say yes. They may even call it alarming.

"I think we've established that we're not most people."

No. We're not.

"Besides, we both know it was more than blackmail."

Oh? What would you call it then?

Your lips curl in amusement. "Flirting."

How could threatening you possibly be considered flirting?

"You wanted to get my attention. To intrigue and seduce me. Sounds like flirting to me."

Well, when you put it that way.

There's a pause.

It worked, didn't it?

"It did. I'm very intrigued."

And what about seduced?

Your eyes flicker up to the camera lens. "I'm feeling rather seduced as well."

That's a relief. For a second I was worried that I may have to try harder.

You swallow as you wonder what that might look like. Your voice comes out sounding more distracted than you intend. "I certainly wouldn't protest if you did."

You wouldn't? Well, I'll have to keep that in mind.

Oh god. A small part of you can't help but wonder if you've just made a mistake. The rest of you, however, is practically writhing with anticipation in your chair.

But first I believe you had more questions for me.

"Oh." You blink. "Right. I did." Your mind races to think of any of them.

Perhaps more questions about my appearance?

You know he's smirking again behind his screen.

"There might have been a few more of those," you say defensively. "Can you blame me? I don't know what you look like. Makes it difficult to think about you."

We both know "think" isn't the correct word there, don't we? You can think about me all day long.

You want to fantasize about me.

Your face burns with embarrassment and thrill. "Fine. That's exactly what I want. It's hardly fair you have that luxury, but I don't. You get to see me and know what I look like. In fact, you've probably seen more of me than I realize."

Oh, I don't blame you one bit. I just want you to be honest with yourself about what you're asking.

And why.

You're flustered by his response, of course. How could you not be? He knows that you want to have explicit, dirty thoughts about him. And he wants you to admit to it out loud.

But there was something you said that's giving you pause: 'You've probably seen more of me than I realize.'

"David," You say calmly as you tilt your head in curiosity. "Have you only watched me through video? Or have you followed me as well?"

It takes several very long seconds for you to get a reply.

Well now, you are a very clever girl.

Your heart begins to pound as the realization settles over you. "You have, haven't you?"

I once sat in that coffee shop you visit. I watched you order a coffee. Then you stared out the window to watch the rain as you waited, not two meters from me.

Your mind races to examine every memory you have of waiting for your coffee on a rainy day, combing through any detail you can recall. But it's useless. You visit that coffee shop several times a week, and you always go on rainy days for a bit of comfort because walking in the rain is miserable. Even some of the baristas you see regularly are faceless in your memories. None of it seemed important at the time. Not important enough to commit to memory, anyway.

"Did I look at you?" You're nearly breathless at the thought that you may have laid eyes on him before. "Did I see you?"

No.

There's a pang in your chest. An inexplicable loss, like you missed something important. A thread of what might have been. "Did you want me to?"

Are you asking if I had hoped we might lock eyes across the shop and it would be love at first sight?

"I don't know! Not that, necessarily, but something. A lingering glance. A polite nod of acknowledgement, perhaps."

No. I didn't hope for anything. I only wanted to see you.

"God, David. You were right there and I just…"

Now are you bothered?

"Yes!" There's a mania in your voice you can't control that's bordering on hysteria. All of this is overwhelming. Not because it scares you, but because you know now there was a chance this could have happened months ago and didn't. All because you didn't look. "I'm bothered I didn't notice you."

It wouldn't have changed anything.

You know he's right. Even if you had looked at him and thought he was attractive, you wouldn't have approached him. You never do. It usually ruins the illusion. "I suppose not."

Still, you can't help but wonder if he would have been different. If you would've felt pulled to him somehow, as though a part of you would have just known what he could awaken in you simply by looking at him.

"Did you think I was beautiful?" You ask quietly.

You were stunning. I could hardly take my eyes off of you.

You let out a pained sob as you read his response.

"Was it thrilling?" You're leaning in now, eager to read more, even if it hurts. "Being that close to me while I had no idea you were watching?"

Yes.

"Did you want to touch me?"

Desperately.

"This is torture," you groan.

How do you think it felt to see you?

And not touch you.

You imagine him chasing you out into the rain. Him, grabbing your arm as you turn in surprise, ready to yell at him to let go until you see his face. Him, pushing you against the brick building and capturing your mouth in a hungry kiss as water drips from your nose and runs down your cheeks. Him, slipping a hand into your jacket to grope along your waist. You, digging your fingers into his hair so he can never pull away from you.

Except you can't visualize any of it because he's still just a shadow of ideas and feelings in your mind. You want to fill in those blanks so badly now. You ache for it. Not knowing is maddening.

"What color is your hair?" You ask breathlessly.

Blond.

Your fingers, tangled through blond hair.

You let out a whimper as your face falls into your hands. You stay like that for several moments, trying to calm yourself down. Trying to will the fantasy out of your mind because the 'what if' is driving you mad. When you finally look up, there's a message waiting for you.

Perhaps we should call it here for tonight. You've had a very eventful and emotional day. And while I am thoroughly enjoying our conversation and your reactions, I want you to sit with them. I want you to understand why you're having them.

"I know why I'm having them!" You protest as your heart sinks. You're having them because you want him, you think. You want to be done hesitating. You want to be done with all of this so there's nothing but you and him—a tangle of limbs and lips.

And I want you to be sure. Do you understand?

"I understand." He wants there to be no hesitation. No doubts. No regrets. "But I don't want to go."

I know, darling. I don't want you to go, either.

But you're free to come back to me whenever now. Aren't you?

"I am," you reluctantly agree. You know you could log on first thing in the morning if you really wanted to, and you have no doubt he would be there within a few minutes.

Tomorrow we can pick up where we left off. Whenever you would like.

Whenever you're ready.

"I think being ready for you is starting to become my default state of being, David."

Is that so?

"Yes. In fact, I'm feeling quite eager."

Are you?

"I am." You squirm for the camera, seeking friction over your arousal. Only this time you make no attempt to hide it underneath a casual shifting in your chair.

So I see.

"But you're right. I have a lot of thinking to do tonight. And I'm going to be thinking very hard about what I want." Before he can respond, you whisper seductively, "Enjoy the rest of your evening, David."

Then you close the window.

While you miss him already, you've truly never felt so alive.

Chapter 4->

A/N: David is such a hypocrite. And he's a manipulative twat. (I desire him carnally)

Also now that we're 3 chapters in, I suppose I should tell you: Every scene where Reader is talking to the camera and he's been typing? David is using a speech to text program. So on the other end of the line, he's actually been talking back to her the entire time. 😇

#david robey #david robey x reader #david robey x f!reader #the devil makes us sin fic #luther the fallen sun #luther the fallen sun fanfiction #luther #luther fanfiction #andy serkis #x reader

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