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vintagedolan · 3 years

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mixtape | track eight

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“Left or right?”

“Don’t look at me, I never fucking graduated.”

“Right, then you move it to the left,” Lisa offered, attempting to get past Grayson. He was having none of it, sticking out his tongue a bit while he focused on getting Indy’s cap arranged correctly, making sure her tassel was in the right spot.

Indy had passed her finals with flying colors, which came as no surprise to anyone who knew her. Top of the class, which was enough for her to feel a tiny bit proud of herself. The Dolan’s on the other hand, we’re over the moon, ready to celebrate her as if it was the greatest achievement anyone could accomplish. Grayson had picked her up from her last final, coaxing her to take a nap in the truck while he drove them out to Jersey, her head in his lap as she was finally able to relax after so many days of stress. He was glad - he wanted her energy to be high when she got to the house, considering he’d planned out a big family dinner as a surprise. He’d even caved and bought her her favorite non-vegan ice cream. She was so surprised that she cried as soon as she went in and saw Ethan and Lisa in the kitchen with little fake graduation cap headbands on.

Even though surprises weren’t her favorite, he hoped he could sneak in another, considering the real one wasn’t until the next day, and it’s arrival came as a text that buzzed in Grayson’s pocket.

Here!

He cleared his throat quickly, trying to hide his excitement as he stepped back from his girlfriend.

“Hey Indiana, I think there’s something at the door for you,” he said.

She squinted at him in accusation.

“You just called me Indiana.”

“Indeed I did.”

“That’s sus.”

“Just go to the door Dee.”

“Sus.”

“Dee.”

“G.”

“Indiana Jamie Cross, will you please open your door,” he said as formally as he could, knowing it would make her laugh enough to give in.

“If something jumps out and scares me, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Holy shit just go open the door before I do it for you.”

She walked slowly but she listened to him, pulling the door open cautiously.

“I was wondering if you were gonna let me in.”

Indiana’s mouth fell open.

“Charlie?!”

Grayson Dolan had learned in the last week that the Cross women were stubborn beings, especially when it came to money. Which was why it took so long for him to convince the older Cross sister to let him buy her and Devin a plane ticket at Thanksgiving.

“We would love to be there, but I just bought the ticket to get out here, and money is kinda tight for us right now. I don’t know if we can swing it so soon again.” Charlie kept her voice down, pretending to look at some of the picture frames on the bookshelf while Grayson talked to her.

“I’ll buy your tickets, both of you, first class.”

“Grayson, no, I can’t ask you to do that,” she shook her head.

“But you didn’t ask. I offered, there’s a difference. C’mon, you know that she’d love to have you there.”

Charlie hesitated, bit her lip the way Indy always did. The back door opened, signaling that everyone was coming back inside and that their conversation needed to end. She looked up at him quickly, eyes darting across the room.

“I’ll think about it.”

It had taken her four days to finally agree and let Grayson send her the money for the tickets, though she insisted on flying coach, sending him back the rest of what he’d given her to cover first class, down to the cent.

Which was how she ended up getting tackled by a very excited Indiana outside her apartment door, so hard that they almost knocked Devin over in a whirl of blonde hair. Grayson caught her cap as it flew off.

“What?! What are you doing here?! How did you get here! I thought you couldn’t come, what the fuck!”

“Ask him,” Charlie laughed, lifting her chin towards Grayson.

She spun, eyes wide and shocked.

“You did this?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “You look exactly like the soft eyes emoji right now, you know that?”

“Shut up,” she smacked his chest before she buried her face in it, sniffling.

“Hey, you don’t have to cry, you’ll mess up your mascara,” he said, pressing a kiss to her hair before she stood up straight again, letting him swipe his thumbs under her eyes.

Ethan was watching the interaction from the couch with a bit of a frown. He pulled his eyes away and picked at some lint on his henley, but he kept his ears towards the kitchen. There was a tenderness, a careful nature in the way he spoke around Indy. It reminded him of the first time that Grayson had gotten a girlfriend. Peyton. They’d met on the first day of 7th grade, in science class, where Grayson didn’t care to pay attention, especially not with Ethan and the prettiest girl in the grade at his table. Ethan had teased his brother relentlessly until he finally got his words handed back to him when she actually agreed to a date - which involved him picking flowers out of his mom’s window box garden (he got in trouble for it later) and hiding them under his jacket when Sean dropped him off at the movie theatre. They’d kissed each other during the end credits, with tongue according to a very excited Grayson who came home and plopped himself on his brother’s bed and spilled every little detail. Ethan was single at the time, so he could only listen, and watch. Watch the way he carried her books for her to class and then sprinted to his own with only a few seconds to spare before the bell. Watched him beg his mom to dye his hair blonde when Peyton said she thought it would look cool. Watched him pass her notes all of class, not caring when Mrs. Patterson took one and read “I love you so much, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen” in front of the whole class that included the majority of his wrestling team. And, he watched the pain on his face when they stumbled across Peyton kissing Jacob Bates behind the bus when she thought Grayson was at wrestling practice. He tried to keep it together, but he sniffled his way through Lisa dying his hair brown that night. Ethan had tried to cheer him up with his usual tactics - stupid inside jokes, making fun of Cameron, even making fun of himself. But Grayson didn’t laugh.

That was when he knew his brother loved hard. He was halfway convinced the reason that Grayson was the bigger twin in the womb was because of the size of his heart. That being said, it wasn’t unusual for Ethan to watch his brother be kind, and sweet, and loving to his girlfriend.

But there was something different with Indy. It was the first time that he could look at Grayson with a girl and see Grayson - unfiltered, unaltered. His twin brother, in his full form, not having changed a single aspect of himself to fit another person. And it made him happy. So happy that for a moment he was able to ignore the guilt that started to rush over him as he remembered all the things he’d said, about how their relationship wouldn��t work, and how Grayson needed to address it. It made him feel worse that he knew he was still right, no matter how in love his brother was.

In the kitchen, Charlie was flicking through settings on her camera.

“I know we have to leave soon, but we have to get at least a few pictures before you get all sweaty cause you get sweaty when you’re nervous,” she said, grabbing her sister’s arm and leading her over to the windows, positioning her with the right lighting.

They took a few normal portraits, some with her cap and some without, a few candids where Charlie did her best to make her laugh as Grayson watched on, the proudest smile on his face.

“Alright, I want one, I want one!” Devin chimed in, surprising both the Cross sisters. They turned to him with the same expression that had him laughing so hard he held his chest. It was the loudest sound that any of the Dolan’s had ever heard come out of him, but it was contagious enough to have them all smiling.

“What?! It’s not every day my little sis graduates college!” He teased, going to ruffle her hair but thinking better of it at the last minute, instead choosing to wrap her up in the biggest hug, her face adorably squished in the picture that Charlie captured.

After that, it was a revolving door of poses with everyone. Lisa fixed Indy’s hair for her before their picture, and Ethan stole her cap and wore it himself. He offered to take the camera, thankful for Charlie’s settings that seemed to work magic as he took a few cute one of the duo, even a few with Indy on Charlie’s back. Devin joined in and they recreated the shoot from their engagement party that Indy still had on the top shelf.

By the time it was Grayson’s turn, Indy’s cheeks were sore from smiling. But she couldn’t help but beam at him as he waltzed over to her in his dress pants and button down, all dressed up for her big day. She did her best to ignore the click of the camera as Grayson fixed her cap, moved her honors cords so they were even where they hung. They took the normal formal poses, and Grayson stole Ethan’s idea of borrowing the cap. But Indy gasped when he tossed it to the side and scooped her up bridal style, laughing as he held her tight and kissed her cheek, even dipped her a bit and looked up at Charlie for the photo op. Indy put it on her mental to-do list to get them printed as soon as she could, beyond excited to see them once Charlie sent them over.

“Okay, we gotta go or we’re gonna be late,” Lisa said, making sure everyone had what they needed for the short walk to the university. Everyone layered up, but while Grayson disappeared in search of his dress coat, Indy pulled her sister aside.

“Hey um. Did… did Dad talk to you at all this week?”

Charlie’s face melted into pity. “I’m sorry bubs.”

“No it’s fine, it’s no big deal. Didn’t expect him to, I just wanted to check so I didn’t get blindsided or anything if he showed up.”

Charlie just nodded and gave her a small smile. She didn’t tell her little sister that she’d told Kenneth about her graduation - four times, actually. He’d never responded, though she could see that he’d read them. Charlie was so used to making excuses for him that she had a whole list of them backed up. He had to work. Traffic. He wanted to come, but something came up. But when she looked at Indy, who wasn’t so much her little sister anymore, she bit her tongue, put her arm around her and headed out the door.

The ceremony was in the science building. John Clark University didn’t have anywhere big enough to house the entire graduating class, so they opted to split it up into smaller ceremonies by discipline instead.

“It should be pretty quick actually, there’s not a ton of us,” Indy said when they arrived, looking over her shoulder at all the graduates moving to get checked in and lined up.

“We’ll wave when you come out so you can find us!” To Indy’s surprise, Lisa’s eyes were teary. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Li,” Indy smiled, pulling her in for a last minute hug, trying not to get emotional herself at the fact that a woman who had no obligation to love her cared so much.

“Don’t trip,” Ethan grinned, nudging her shoulder to lighten the mood.

She turned to Grayson, kissing him quickly before she finally headed off, looking back a few times before she disappeared around the corner.

“Okay seats, seats, we gotta get good ones!” Charlie exclaimed, immediately leading the group through the rows - it was a massive lecture hall with the flip down chairs Grayson had only seen in movie theatres and movies. When they finally found five seats together, he found himself wandering what it was like to be in class somewhere so big, with so many other people learning the same thing.

Despite feeling like they were running late, there were plenty more graduates and families that filed into the building, taking their seats and patiently awaiting the procession.

Thirty minutes later they finally began to file through, a straight line of black robes and red and white tassels. Charlie spotted Indiana first, with Grayson a millisecond behind her, both of them standing up to wave until she saw them and waved back. He kept track of her as she went to sit down in her row, kept his eyes on her as best he could while the main speaker began his speech. He didn’t care what he had to say - he only had eyes for his girl, who looked back every so often and offered him a little wave that still had his heart fluttering like they were hiding in the curtains of Emma’s room all over again.

Grayson hadn’t experienced a lot of moments of pride in his lifetime. There were a few he could pinpoint - when Ethan won one of their wrestling tournaments in middle school, when their team won their lacrosse championship. When his mom’s salon won best in the city a few years back, when his sister graduated college. But what he felt in that next moment topped every single one.

The dean of the college of sciences asked everyone to hold their applause, and without any prior consulting, Indy’s entire squad ignored the rule.

“Indiana Jamie Cross. Bachelor’s of Biological Sciences. Summa Cum Laude.”

“WOOOOOO, YEAH DEE!” Grayson yelled it at the top of his lungs, not even noticing the way everyone turned to look at him. He could see Indy’s blush all the way from the stage as they all continued clapping until the next person was called.

For a moment he was afraid she was embarrassed, but when she took her seat again he saw her turn around and blow him a quick kiss. He caught it in the air and threw her a wink, excited to get to her to give her a real one, which was exactly what he did when she finally made it out of the stream of people at the end of the ceremony. Everyone’s hearts melted when he spun her around and planted one on her.

Charlie took a few more pictures of her with her diploma before Grayson spoke back up.

“Alright, coffee’s on me!”

It seemed to have gotten somewhat colder outside as the wind whipped around the buildings, and Indy curled into a much warmer Grayson as the group headed down the sidewalk. He moved his finger to her palm.

P-R-O-U-D-O-F-U

She leaned her cheek against his shoulder, her blush almost warm enough to soak through his coat.

But it was nothing compared to the redness that spread over her cheeks when she walked into Jets.

“HAPPY GRADUATION INDIANA!”

The cry was championed by Patrick, who stood in the lobby absolutely beaming at her, below a banner that they’d hung above the espresso bars that read the same. Indy didn’t have to ask - the grin on Grayson’s face gave it away. She wanted to ask him how long he’d planned that surprise, how many more he had in store. She felt woefully undeserving, especially when she realized that Patrick had shut down the store for an hour just for her.

“And I thought you giving me free coffee was bad for business,” she said in his ear when she hugged him.

“I don’t know what lover boy over there does but he covered normal sales for the hour and then some,” he mumbled.

One of the baristas handed Ethan a sign that read “closed for private celebration” to hang on the door, and then it was truly time to celebrate. Indy walked behind the bar like she had a million times before, happy to see that everything was still in the same place. Patrick threw her an apron that she jokingly tied on over her robe before she clapped her hands together.

“Alright, who wants what?”

She made some of her best latte art that day - leaves, a flower for Lisa, a slightly lopsided swan for Devin per his request. It felt nice to be in a familiar place doing something she was good at - it blanketed over the uncertainty that had begun to settle in when she realized that everything was on a trajectory of change. She would never sit in another undergraduate course, never have some of her favorite professors again. And there was always the factor of possibly looking at other schools - they all started their programs in the fall, which meant she had time to truly look, if she really wanted to. From her first tour of campus she’d always thought she would be at JCU for her whole academic career, but her mind began to wander when she heard the buzzing of all the other top schools that her cohort were applying to - Baylor, Harvard, and the one that had piqued her interest the most, UCLA.

She’d googled their admission rates one night when Grayson had fallen asleep during a back scratch, and her chances looked good. Really good. But she’d closed the tab quickly - LA was too far away from New York, from home.

“Hey. Where’d you go?” Grayson’s voice was soft as he clinked his mug against hers to get her attention.

“Just thinking,” she smiled, turning her head and tilting up until he kissed her quickly. “I’ll be right back.”

Indiana hopped off her barstool and headed back behind the bar, following Patrick who had disappeared to the back storage room. It was like walking into a friend’s house you hadn’t been to in a while when she passed through the swinging door. The freezers on the left and the syrups in organized rows on her right, just like before.

“Don’t even think about trying to do any dishes while you’re here,” Patrick said, his back still to her as she moved to the sink. She’d had too much time to think while she sat and waited for her name to be called during the ceremony - too much empty mental space that could be allotted to all the things she should be doing. Which meant she’d managed to hatch up a whole plan to better herself in more ways than one in a mere 20 minutes.

“Do you guys still have the same insurance policy for employees? Like the new health benefits, the mental health ones that you all put in like two months before I left?”

Patrick turned the water off.

“Yeah, insurance is the same, it covers four therapy sessions a month for anyone who qualifies. But that’s just for full time employees. But I could probably pull a few strings and get you some benefits with part time hours… is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah everything is fine! I was just curious. Thanks.”

Indy turned to leave, jumping a bit when she realized that Charlie was behind her.

“What’re you doing back here?”

“I was looking for Patrick, there’s a delivery guy here with milk,” Charlie explained, but there was a seriousness in her brows that let Indy know that she had not only heard enough of the conversation, but that she was definitely going to have to talk about it later.

Damn.

She pushed the thought aside and put on another smile before they all exited the backroom, laughing at the sight of one of Ethan trying to steam milk. He turned at her entrance and lost his focus, moving the pitcher down too far and spraying almond milk everywhere before the barista who was helping him flipped the wand back up.

“Eden’s on facetime for you over there!” He pointed towards the counter and his phone, which Indy happily picked up to find a beaming Eden, who informed her that she’d sent a card that would probably be there a few days late, but she’d tried. She stayed on FaceTime while they all thanked Patrick again and headed back to the apartment, Lisa unveiling the gift pile and vegan cookie cake she’d managed to sneak in while Grayson had distracted Indiana with questions about his outfit choices. Almost every gift made Indiana cry - just the idea that they’d spent any time thinking about her was enough to have her emotional anyways. But between the blanket that Lisa had embroidered with JCU 20’, Ethan’s gift of a JCU Alumni sweatshirt and Indy’s dream record player that Charlie and Devin had got her, she was teary-eyed. Her mouth fell open when Grayson came out with a giant box from the spare room - she couldn’t for the life of her figure out how he’d managed to sneak it in past her - but she didn’t care when she unwrapped it and realized it was a Mastrena.

“You bought me an espresso machine? Grayson! These things cost a fortune!”

“Yeah, but you graduated college! And now you can make lattes all the time.”

“Gray-”

“And you can make me lattes,” he teased, knowing it would take her a while to fully accept it. She just shook her head when he kissed her cheek, overwhelmed.

By the time the night was coming to a close, everyone was piled onto the couch, with Charlie and Indy on their boyfriend’s laps to make room for everyone as they watched Collateral Beauty at Indy’s request. Grayson frowned when she sniffled and held her when she cried, eyes more focused on her than the screen. And he couldn’t say he was too sad to see Lisa and Ethan say goodbye, or for Devin and Charlie to say their goodnights before they disappeared into the spare room.

The duo brushed their teeth in the sink side by side, and Grayson snapped a picture of them in the mirror with a foamy smile before they stripped down to underwear and scurried under the covers.

Indy was just as glad to have him to herself for the first time all day, and she soaked in his warmth, sighing when he pulled her closer.

“I love you. Thank you for today.”

Y-O-U-R-E-W-E-L-C-O-M-E he traced on her shoulder blade, lips on her forehead.

T-I-R-E-D?

“Why?” Grayson smirked, laughing quietly when she smacked his chest.

“It’s been a long day, that’s why.”

“For you,” he corrected.

“You had to sit around and watch me all day though.”

“You say that as if it’s something I wouldn’t enjoy. I could celebrate you everyday baby.”

She blushed at his words, burying her face in his neck.

“For someone as accomplished as you, you really suck at letting people acknowledge your accomplishments,” he teased, running his fingertips over her skin lightly. She did the same over his chest, tracing a hexagon.

“I’m… I’m not used to people being proud of me I guess.”

Grayson frowned and pulled back and looked at her, really looked in her eyes. They were still the color of the jellyfish, just a bit duller in the low light of her bedroom.

“I’m proud of you Indiana.” He paused, offering her a small smile. “But you know what? I’m not the most proud.”

Indy waited.

“Your mom. She’s gotta be the most proud of you. She’s seen every single minute you put in to get where you are right now.”

She crumpled into his chest, and the tears that had threatened her all day finally fell, hot and salty as they traveled onto his skin. It was quiet in the room for a while, and Grayson waited patiently - quietly, until she spoke again.

“I felt her today. She was there.”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t see her or anything. But I had a dream about her the other night though, and it felt like she was really there with me. And it felt like that today too. Does that ever happen to you? With your dad?”

“Oh all the time. He’s always with me. Sometimes it’s stronger than other times - like when I’m about to do stupid shit, or make a mistake, I can hear him clear as day in my head. But it’s comforting, you know? Knowing they’re there, watching over us.”

“Yeah.” Indy’s throat was tight all over again. She wished she could have met Sean for a moment, and then she realized that in some ways, in knowing Grayson, she had.

“You know, one of the things that really stuck with me, towards the end, was something his nurse said. Her name was Charlotte, and she must have been working fucking overtime because she was always there. But one day I was in the hallway, cause I just needed a break, and she came and sat down next to me on the floor. And at that point, I mean we knew. We didn’t know when, but we knew. And she looked at me and she said ‘sweetheart, this is a gift for him. He gets so much more time with you, because he can always be with you instead of only sometimes.’ And I remember, I was so fucking mad at her, because who the fuck says that shit to someone whose about to lose their parent? But she was right. She was so fucking right.

“And while the doctors were in and out, giving us all these numbers and all these timelines and all that, Charlotte was the only one who really told me anything that mattered. I don’t know if I ever told you this, but my dad didn’t want to know anything about his… his cancer. He didn’t want to know his counts, or how much time he had left. He never asked, and she was the only one who stood by him in that, made sure that he didn’t know anything he didn’t want to. And it meant so much to him, in the end, that he had that choice. That was one of the only things he asked us to do, before he went. He told us not to cry, and he told us to take care of Ma, and Cam, but he told us to look out for Charlotte too. When we could think, we went back to the unit, asked the other nurses if there was anything she needed, and it turns out she’d been driving a 1995 Honda for a decade, and she didn’t think it would make it through the rest of the winter. We bought her an SUV, and I still don’t think she knows it was us, but I swear my dad told me which one to get for her. And he was so fucking proud.”

Indiana hung on his every word, watching him as he watched the ceiling, like he always did when he talked about his father.

“He has so much to be proud of Grayson. He helped raise a wonderful, wonderful man. The best, actually.”

Her voice snapped him out of his own head, and he turned to her quickly, worried.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Hey, don’t ever apologize for that. I like hearing about your dad, and it’s good to get it out sometimes. You can tell me anything that’s on your mind, you know that.”

He looked at her, there in his arms, eyes a bit puffy from tears passed, that soft smile on her lips that was somehow more endearing than her full one, and he felt tears of his own start to prickle. He knew she meant it, knew she would be understanding, and that somehow made it worse.

What was he supposed to say? I love you so much, and I think you’re the love of my life, but our lives are completely different, and I promised I wouldn’t ask you to go to LA, and I’m terrified of losing you and I don’t want to hurt you.

His lips parted, and then he closed them again. She yawned so hard that her nose scrunched, and when she was done she curled back up against his chest, wrapping her arms around him.

“M’tired,” she mumbled, which meant she was already half asleep.

He pulled the covers over her shoulders and kissed her hair.

“I love you,” she whispered, tracing the same letters she spoke.

“I love you more.” His voice was tight as his finger moved against the back of her arm, and he turned the lamp off before any of his tears fell.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

When Indiana woke up, Grayson’s arms were like a cage around her. Usually, they were still somewhat intertwined when they woke, but she’d never had to maneuver her way out of his arms with so much force before.

She finally managed it, and replaced herself with a pillow that he gladly pulled to his chest. Indy couldn’t help but to lean over and brush some of his floppy hair out of his eyes, staring for a moment before she pulled herself away and headed into the kitchen.

The reason for her early wake up was standing in front of the fridge, with a head of blonde hair that resembled a birds nest.

When she turned around, she looked guilty as ever.

“Shit, did I wake you up?”

“Nah,” Indy reassured her sister with a smile, moving over to the coffee machine. “It’s 10 anyways, I’m surprised I slept that long.”

Grayson had gotten her a newer version that was actually fairly quiet, but she made sure both the bedroom doors were shut before she ground the espresso for her latte, and Charlie’s flat white.

Charlie was nice enough to wait until she had her mug to bring it up.

“So.”

Indy sighed. “So.”

“You asked Patrick about insurance stuff.”

“Yes.”

“So you’re going to work there again?”

“I have to pay rent somehow, don’t I?”

“Dad pays your rent.”

“I don’t want dad to pay my rent, that’s the whole issue.”

“Okay, but you didn’t ask Patrick about salary, you asked him about insurance. For mental health specifically.”

“You know, it’s not polite to eavesdrop.”

“Are you okay? Because you know that you can always talk to me about stuff, whatever it is. And I know I’m not the best about talking about mom, but I can try, I’ve been doing better with it and-”

“Char. Stop. It’s not about mom.”

“Oh.” It was obvious by her long pause that she hadn’t considered an alternative, but Indy waited anyways.

“Then… what’s going on?”

Indy toyed with the foam on her latte with her finger, ignoring how hot it was.

“I was thinking about trying to get a handle on the plane thing.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t want it to be such a big deal for me to just, fucking fly somewhere. I gotta get over that shit.”

Charlie pondered it for a minute, and she chose her next words carefully.

“Just to fly? Or to fly to a specific place.”

Indy laughed.

“You know, you’ve never been good at subtle. You got that from mom. But no, I’m not just doing it because of Grayson.”

“Did he ask you to?”

“Of course not, he wouldn’t do that.” Charlie’s shoulders relaxed. “But he does live in LA, which means I’ve gotta be able to fly out there.”

“How often?”

“I don’t know, we haven’t really talked about it.”

“Oh. Doesn’t he leave soon though?”

“January.” She said it casually.

“Inds that’s next month.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

Charlie had a million more questions, but she held her tongue and sipped her coffee.

“I’ve gotta pack, our flight leaves in a few hours. I’m assuming you don’t have any breakfast food.”

“Actually, I do, but I’m not the breakfast chef around here.”

She sat her mug down on the counter and threw Charlie a wink before she headed back into her room as quietly as she could, sneaking up to the edge of the bed. Grayson had rolled to his stomach, something in his unconscious realizing that the pillow that he’d tossed away was in fact not his girlfriend. He almost looked too adorable to disturb.

Almost.

She went the gentle route, changing her mind on the pounce plan that she’d originally made. Instead, she crawled up the mattress and over his back, laying down on top of him with her cheek pressed to his warm shoulder.

He grunted a bit, but it turned into a sigh when she started peppering kisses along his skin.

“Mornin gorgeous,” he grumbled, eyes still closed. “What’re you doin’ back there?”

“Just hanging out.”

“Well- “ he rolled slightly, just enough to pull her over his side and onto the mattress so he could move right back with her underneath him -” maybe you should hang out down here instead.”

She relaxed into him like she always did, peppering kisses against his chest. Her hands ran over the ripples of muscles in his arms before she stopped and traced.

B-R-E-A-K-F-A

“Ahhh, so you didn’t just come in here for cuddles huh,” Grayson cut her off with a smile, quirking an eyebrow when she looked up at him.

“If you make us all avocado toast I’ll pay you in cuddles,” she offered. It puffed up Grayson’s chef alter ego just enough to convince him to get out of bed and throw some pants on. Indy stayed closed to him, soaking up the last bits of warmth from the morning as she helped him prep everything for breakfast. She could have done it, but Grayson’s pride at a very nicely laid out plate of avo toast, strawberries and honeydew was the best addition she could make. So she stuck to the coffees instead, passing over mugs as Devin appeared and Charlie followed, though she was still working on her cup from earlier.

“Well, now I see how he turned you into a breakfast person,” she said, graciously accepting a plate. They ate over quiet conversation, enjoying the last little bit of time they had before the airport and the inevitable goodbye. Grayson had bonded with the duo even more during their visit, and he was sad to see them having to leave again so soon. When Indy went to change, Grayson followed her, frowning when she didn’t pick her warmest jacket.

“It’s supposed to get really cold out, you’ll probably want your big one,” he said as subtly as he could, popping his knuckles as he spoke.

“I thought it was supposed to be a little warmer today,” she pouted. “We’re only gonna be outside to walk to the car.”

“Right, but you’re always cold. Just wear that one.” He gave her his most dazzling smile and she gave in, sliding in on before she left. Grayson was grateful that she listened - it meant he didn’t have to reveal his final graduation surprise too soon. He bit his tongue on the drive to the airport, gave out his hugs to Charlie and Devin, squeezing Indy into his side when she sniffled at the sight of her sister disappearing into the terminal.

Indy didn’t have a single suspicion until Grayson took a different turn into the city, much earlier than usual - 50th, instead of 26th.

“Bub? This is the wrong way.”

“No it isn’t.”

“We get off on 26th for the garage.”

“We aren’t going to the garage.” He couldn’t keep the smile off his face - the sheepish one that always made Indy’s heart flutter. She’d seen it so many times, but it still had the same effect on her every single time.

“Well then where are we going?” There was a childlike excitement in her voice that made Grayson laugh. He pulled her hand up to his face, kissed her skin softly.

“You’ll see.”

The first stop it seemed, was a jewelry store.

“This is not the surprise by the way, just an errand. Gotta pick up a christmas gift for mom.”

“I was gonna get her a sweater for christmas, do you think she’ll like that?”

“Li does love a good sweater. She’ll love anything you get her though, you’re the favorite.”

Indy rolled her eyes but didn’t respond as one of the workers came up and asked what they were there for. When Grayson gave his name she headed to the back and came back out with a small box.

“May I?” She asked.

Grayson nodded, waiting for her to open it. Inside was a beautiful ring, silver and delicate, with a large light blue stone in a princess cut.

“It’s beautiful,” Indy mused.

“Blue topaz. My dad’s birthstone. Mine and E’s too. You think she’ll like it?”

“Gray she’ll love it, of course she’ll love it.”

“I hope so.” His nerves were evident - he was always on a mission to make sure that his mom still had a good Christmas, although she always said all she needed was to have her kids back under her roof for the day. He paid the final portion of the ring payment and slipped the box into his pocket, waiting until they were back outside to turn to Indy with a wide smile.

“Now, we really celebrate.”

They walked hand in hand down the street. Indy kept her protests to herself - she wasn’t used to being spoiled in any way. In fact, it still made her uncomfortable when anyone spent money on her in any form, but she tried to remind herself that money didn’t mean the same thing to him as it did to her. So when they strolled up to one of the nicer restaurants in the city for a late lunch, she bit her tongue and tried not to think about the prices, following him inside to the warmth. It was dimly lit, the type of place where the host would take your coat off and pull your chair out for you.

Grayson beat him to it, fingers brushing over her shoulders while he pulled her coat off. She felt underdressed in just jeans and a sweater, but he looked at her like she hung the moon for him and him alone, and she wondered for a moment if there would ever be a day in their lives together that he couldn’t make her blush just by looking at her.

The menu didn’t even have prices next to the items, and it made Indy’s mouth dry enough for her to finish her water before the waiter even came back for their order.

Grayson noticed. He always noticed. He reached a hand across the small table for her hand, thumb running over her smooth acrylics that she’d gotten pre-graduation.

“Why are you nervous bub?”

“This place is expensive,” she explained after a moment’s hesitation.

“And graduating college a year early is a feat worth celebrating,” he reminded her, raising up his wine glass filled with water. “Despite the fact that you seem to hate being celebrated.”

“I don’t hate being celebrated. I’m just… not used to it I guess. Wasn’t a big Cross family thing, even before.”

“Well, it’s a big Dolan family thing.”

“I guess I better get used to it then.”

She clinked her glass against his as he swallowed hard, the movement of his throat hidden by the lighting. He pushed the thoughts from his head, the constant nagging he seemed to never be able to escape from, the better part of his conscience begging him to do the right thing, to tell her what he was thinking. She didn’t deserve for him to drag it out if he really was going to end things - she deserved so much more, more than he could give her with the life that he led. But every time he thought he had the courage to say something she’d reel him back in with a smile, or a witty comment, or just a look, entirely unaware of what she was doing. And he couldn’t imagine her anywhere else but the spot that she’d managed to carve out in his soul in just a few short months. He knew deep down he’d never find anyone else to fill it, but he also knew that she deserved to live the life she wanted to. A life without a boyfriend whose life interfered with hers. He just didn’t know how to reconcile with the fact that he would break her heart, and his own in the process.

So, he ignored his conscience and gave in to the selfish side of himself.

When she asked where he’d gone, he said he was planning, and it wasn’t a lie. If he was only going to have so many days with her, he wasn’t willing to sacrifice a single moment.

So he held her hand on top of the table while they waited for their food, striking up a conversation about college memories and her classmates that she would miss the most. The food was as incredible as he expected, and he made a mental note to thank Ethan for the recommendation. Grayson made sure that Indy didn’t see the inside of the bill when the waiter brought it, even being careful to slip the $200 in cash in the billfold practically under the table.

He led her back out into the cold, for once thankful for the early sunset of NYC that already had the city lights glowing against the fading sky. There was something magical about it, about existing on the streets with so many other people, knowing each one of them had their own story and life that they led. Indy people watched as Grayson led her safely down the streets, letting her cling onto his arm for comfort and warmth. It was only a few blocks until they saw the metallic flags and turned the corner to find the Rockefeller Center tree, massive and glorious in its height. It was speckled with what seemed like millions of lights, all twinkling in bright colors amongst the branches.

“Wow.”

Grayson watched the wonder on her face with a chuckle. “You’re a New Yorker, aren’t you supposed to be used to this shit?”

She smacked his arm, but kept her eyes forward. “I haven’t been to see it in years. It’s beautiful.”

He looked at her. “Yeah. Beautiful.”

He let her admire it as long as she wanted, resting his cheek against the top of her head when she leaned over on him.

“You wanna get closer?”

She frowned at him. “How?”

Grayson started walking with her in tow, down the stairs and around the plaza until he got to the ground level, fishing two tickets out of his jacket pocket for the attendant at the front of the ice rink. Indiana squeezed his arm.

“Gray. Baby, this is so sweet, but I can’t skate for shit.”

“Why am I not surprised,” he laughed, shaking his head before he kissed her forehead. “I won’t let you fall. Promise.”

They checked out their skates quickly, lacing up on one of the benches before Indy rose on wobbly feet, immediately letting out a squeal and reaching for her boyfriend. He caught her with a laugh, adjusting his own balance before they started walking to the edge of the ice. That familiar Grayson confidence was evident as he stepped on, getting his bearings before he reached out a hand for her.

“C’mon, I’ve got you. You got this, just one foot at a time.”

She grabbed both his hands and let him counteract her weight as she tried to get her footing, finally finding her balance after a moment of wobbling.

“Okay, now push off with one foot and glide with the other. Like this.”

He went to let go to demonstrate, and she clung to his hands with a squeak. “Don’t let go!”

Grayson’s cackle bounced off the ice. “Okay, okay! I’m right here, you’re good. Just try.”

Indy didn’t like not being good at things. But god was she terrible at ice skating. It didn’t matter how much instruction Grayson tried to give her, it was like it refused to translate into the movement of her legs. She was adorable when she was frustrated, but Grayson wanted it to be enjoyable for her too, so after a few laps around of watching her struggle he slid behind her, hands solid on her hips.

“Just keep your legs and feet straight, and I’ll do the rest.”

She held onto his hands as he started to push her along - she’d forgotten that he was annoyingly athletic but the feeling of actually gliding across the ice kept her from teasing him about it. It was peaceful, and despite the crowd both on the ice and above them by the tree, she felt like they were the only two in the city.

Grayson took them through the middle after they’d gone around a few times, towards the center for one pass and she squeezed his hand when they got there.

“Wait, stop!”

He turned his skates, throwing a bit of ice onto her ankles on accident, peaking over her shoulder.

“What’s up?”

“Turn me around. Please.”

He did as she asked, faster than he meant to, and it had her nails digging into his shoulders as he tried to hold her up without them both going down. She was breathing fast when he got them steady, quirking an eyebrow.

“We gotta take a picture in front of the tree!”

He obliged, pulling his phone out of his pocket and turning them slowly until the tree was behind them, snapping a few of the two of them smiling before he kissed her cheek, and then her lips, randomly pressing the button and hoping they were still in frame.

Her lips were cold against his, and tasted like the vanilla chapstick she’d put on before they’d left the restaurant. It sent tingles down the back of his neck that made him put his phone back in his pocket and pull her closer to him.

Wrong move. He’d never met someone so uncoordinated in his life, and it was the closest call of them all when her legs started to flail. His only hope of saving her from hitting the ice was to pick her up fully and hope that he could keep his balance with the sudden weight shift.

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly, clinging to his neck while he laughed.

“What am I gonna do with you,” he teased, and in a moment of confidence he dipped her down like they were dancing and kissed her again. The same tingle went down his neck, the hair there standing up, still there even when he sat her on her skates again, keeping an arm wrapped around her waist.

Above them, as if someone had turned on a machine, it began to snow. Big fluffy flakes fell around them, disappearing into Indy’s light hair and speckling the top of Grayson’s. It was magic in its simplest form, and Indy couldn’t help but beam at him.

“I love you. So much.”

“I love you more,” he said, and he meant it.

They headed off the ice a few minutes before their session expired, unlacing their boots with numb fingers that they shoved in their pockets for the walk back to the truck. As soon as they climbed in the cab Grayson blasted the heat and opened an arm for Indy to cuddle up next to him. Once they were thawed enough, Grayson proposed the idea of hot chocolate, specifically to help the fact that Indy’s teeth were still chattering. Which was how they ended up at Jet’s 40 minutes later, squished together in the blue chair by the window, watching the snow fall as they sipped peppermint hot chocolates that Patrick had given them on the house. Grayson dropped a 20 in the tip jar anyways.

The lobby was busy, with people in and out constantly, wiping the snow off their shoes as best they could on the small doormat. They shuffled through the line, a few of them sitting down for a moment to wait for their names to be called. Indy was used to the bustle, though she felt a bit guilty that she wasn’t behind the bar helping out when she had the skills to. Instead, she just smiled any time a barista looked her way, and spent the rest of her time watching the snow outside.

Grayson’s eyes were on a girl. A few girls, actually, who looked oddly familiar though he couldn’t place where he’d seen them before. They’d sat at a table towards the back of the store, having come in right behind him and Indy. But since then they’d moved forward one table, and then another, and the not so subtle way that two of them had angled their phone had that familiar prickle at the back of his neck rising again. He shifted in his chair quickly, turning his head away and attempting to do his best to block the view of Indiana.

“Hey, you ready to get outta here?”

“Did you finish already?” She asked, surprised considering her cup was still half full.

“Yeah,” he lied. “Just figured we could get home and change into some cozy pjs is all.”

“That sounds nice.” Indy moved in to kiss his cheek, and though he tried to pull away, he didn’t do it fast enough.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Two for two. “Let’s just get home.”

The walk was as short as ever, but it was enough time for Indy’s mind to race. Had he been annoyed that she said something about the restaurant being expensive? Maybe he hadn’t wanted to help her ice skate - most people could at least hold themselves up on the rails at least. But he’d seemed so happy, which somehow made her feel worse, that she’d missed it somehow.

By the time they made it to the elevator, she was borderline panicking.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Did I do something?”

Her words broke Grayson out of his own thoughts, and he rushed into reassurances.

“No, it’s not you baby. It’s not, I promise.”

“Then what is it? And don’t say it’s nothing.”

“I’m good, really. Just wanted to get home.”

For the first time in her almost three months of knowing Grayson, she didn’t believe him. But she knew when to drop a subject, so she just nodded and followed him out of the elevator.

Half of Grayson’s wardrobe seemed to have migrated into Indy’s apartment, so it wasn’t hard to find cozy clothes that had them curled up together on the couch in no time. Grayson felt guilty, and tried to distract himself by running his fingers through her soft hair, tried to focus on the weight of her leaned against him. She was quiet as she scrolled through show after show, not really looking. She picked a random cooking show eventually just to fill the silence in the room, moving to lay across Graysons lap. His hand moved under her shirt, fingers still a bit cold as he ran them lightly over her skin.

She didn’t say anything, just glad to have him there with her. She traced on top of his sweatpants, shapes and words, L-O-V-E-Y-O-U and T-H-A-N-K-Y-O-U. The fabric was so thick that he could barely make out what she was writing.

“Thank you? For what?”

She rolled over so she was looking up at him. “For today. For celebrating me.”

He traced a thumb over her cheek. “You’re welcome. I love you. So much.”

“C’mere,” Indy said, reaching up for him. It took some shifting, but eventually they got settled where they were laying together on the couch, with her pressed between the cushions and his chest. She was warm as she kissed him, slow and calculated, trying to get across to him that she was there for whatever he was going through without the words. He reciprocated, but his mind was still spinning, images of the girls and their phones behind his eyelids.

The kiss faded out into cuddles which faded into an uncomfortable silence that Indy was desperate to resolve.

“What’s the update on the tiny homes? Weren’t the floor guys supposed to come in yesterday?”

“Yeah, Ethan went out there and said they were almost done. We’ve got some interior designers coming out tomorrow and then they’ll be done-done,” Grayson explained, heart rate rising as yet another opportunity to tell her came up.

“They really got those done so fast. I guess that’s a perk of a tiny home though, not much floor space to floor. How often do you guys think you’re gonna come out and stay in them?”

He licked his lips, trying to find the right words to tell her.

“Well, actually-”

His phone buzzed in his pocket - a call from Ethan.

He didn’t know whether to feel grateful or annoyed, but he fished his phone out of his pocket anyways, sliding over to answer.

“Yo.”

“Hey, mom wants to put up the christmas decs tomorrow cause she still doesn’t have them up. You remember where we put the lights?”

“Yeah, they’re in the attic I think, with the tree.”

“Well, you’re the family santa, so get your ass out here early tomorrow to hang some lights. And bring Indy too, I’ll make breakfast.”

“Don’t make breakfast, we’ll bring donuts or something.”

“Fuck you, be here at 10.”

He hung up, making Grayson roll his eyes and look down at Indy.

“You up for Christmas decorating tomorrow at home tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that sounds like fun! But I’m sure as fuck not getting on the roof.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll do the roof, you can do the stuff inside with Ma. Deal?”

“Deal,” she smiled, wiggling up to kiss him again, trying to chase out the rest of her worries before she curled up into his chest.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The snow had piled onto the sides of the highway in ugly mounds stained with dirt and asphalt drudged up by the plows. So Indy kept her eyes on the trees as they flew by, specifically the evergreens she saw, with their green bristles weighted down with white, heavy and thick.

“Are you sure you guys wanna get on the roof with all this? Won’t it be slick?”

“Nah, Dad used to do it all the time. I’ll just make E shovel while I try to find the clips we put up there last year. Besides, if I fall off I’ve got a doctor to mend me up,” he teased, squeezing her leg.

“I’m not a doctor yet.”

“Okay, well an almost doctor then. How many years until you’re actually one again?”

“11 years minimum. Well, 10 for me cause I skipped a year in undergrad. But it could be up to 16, depending on how long my residency would go.”

“And you’re gonna do it all through JCU?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan right now,” she mumbled, eyes still focused out the window.

“Hey,” he got her attention, waiting for her to turn to him. “You’re gonna be an amazing doctor someday. You’re gonna help so many people. Just having you in the room, doing the little things for people, that’s gonna mean more to those people than you even realize. They’re gonna be really lucky to have you.”

The sentiment seemed to arise out of nowhere, but she still blushed at his kind words. “The little things are actually more the nurses, but thank you.”

He let her watch the trees for the rest of the drive, and she was so focused on them that she barely noticed Ethan already on the roof when they pulled in.

He had a bright orange shovel in his hands, the scoop full of snow that he began to swing back and forth once they stepped out of the car, shoes crunching the snow below them.

“Don’t you dare!” Indy called, but it was too late. The snow was already flying and she squealed, grabbing Grayson and pulling him out of the way while it rained down right where they had been standing.

A moment later and Lisa was outside, hands on her hip with the menacing energy only a mom could produce.

“Ethan Grant! That’s how you fall and bust your fucking head open! Knock it off!”

Grayson bit back a laugh when Ethan kicked a tiny bit more snow off the edge so it sprinkled down by Lisa.

“Will you get up there before he falls off please?” She turned to Grayson, exasperated. “Indy, come in, it’s cold.”

It was Indiana’s turn to laugh when Lisa hooked their arms together and led her into the house, leaving Grayson out in the snow. He grabbed the lights that Ethan had already gotten out, looping his arm through before he headed up the ladder at the lowest point of the roof.

“I’ve already done the other side of the house, so I’m just here for moral support and to save your ass if I need to, my job is done,” Ethan explained, moving over to a spot by the chimney to sit down.

“Oh yeah, you shoveled on a downhill slope, the horror,” Grayson muttered, but in all honesty he would rather do the lights himself anyways.

They talked about the tiny homes and the final touches they needed while Grayson moved around the roof carefully, trying to counteract his balance when he got closer to the edge, cursing his mom silently for having roofs so high that they couldn’t do it from the top of a ladder.

The front of the house went without incident, and Ethan begrudgingly helped by holding the extra lights while Gray strung them. But when Ethan went down the ladder to get the next strand to connect, he took a minute too long to come back up. Grayson tried to use what little patience he was born with, but it fizzled out quickly, making him stomp across the roof to the edge.

“Yo, what the fucks taking so long?”

“Gray.”

“Can you not find them or what?”

“Grayson.”

He didn’t like the tone of his brother’s voice.

“What? What happened?”

“Come down here.”

Grayson took the ladder so quickly that his feet almost slipped, but he was at his brother’s side in a moment, taking his phone that he had outstretched.

His stomach dropped into the snow under his feet as he began to scroll with a numb thumb. There were pictures. So many pictures, and Indy was in every single one of them. Tweet after tweet with different screenshots of the two of them - looking at the tree, ice skating, sitting in Jets, even walking down the street. He pieced it together, realized that the reason the girls had looked familiar was because they’d followed them.

“Fuck. Fuck.”

Bile rose in his throat when he found a video, zoomed in as far as it would go with surprising quality as he pushed Indy along on the ice, towards the middle of the rink. He watched her squeeze his hands and laugh, watched himself turn her around so they could get their picture, watched himself kiss her cheek and her lips.

He didn’t want to read, but he couldn’t help himself. There were a few familiar handles that talked about how happy they were for him, but the majority of it was exactly what he expected.

So much for ‘working on himself’ he’s back on the constant girlfriend trend

Didn’t think she was his type but okayyyyy I guess 🥴

When we said we didn’t want Grayson to end up with an LA girl, we didn’t mean ~that~

Her insta is indiana.jamie, i’ve never even heard of her

The worst was a two set of images from Jet’s, where her face was in plain view. The second one had edited lighting, and was zoomed in on his pocket, with the text above it.

Look I know I sound crazy but WTF IS IN HIS POCKET? IS THAT A RING BOX? GRAY BABY NOOOOOOO

“Fuck.” He couldn’t find another word, and Ethan was no help. A call from Adele came in on his phone, and E looked at him for approval. He just nodded and let him answer, turning away and heading into the house, not even bothering to clean his boots.

“Dee! Indiana!”

“In here!” She called back and he jogged into the living room, not realizing he was breathless until he got there and saw that the tree had been assembled. She had an ornament in her hand when he ran in and she put it on the tree quickly, her stomach tightening at the look on his face.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Where’s your phone, have you looked at your phone?”

“It’s over there, it’s just been playing music. Baby what’s wrong?”

He ran over to it, muttering out a ‘shit’ when the screen lit up, both at the flood of notifications and the fact that her lockscreen had changed to their picture from the ice.

“Woah.” She took her phone from him, unlocking it and heading after all the notifications on instagram. “Holy shit. I got 3,500 new followers, what the fuck?”

“Indy, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She closed her phone and looked at him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “For what?”

“I should have thought about it, there’s not usually paps in New York, I didn’t even think about fans, and now everyone’s tweeting a bunch of bullshit about you, I’m just, fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Slow down,” she murmured, hand moving to his face. She saw Lisa leave the room out of the corner of her eye, but she kept looking at Grayson. “It’s okay. We knew this was going to happen.”

“They saw the ring box in my pocket in some of the pictures, they probably think we’re fucking engaged, and they’re gonna be relentless. Every time you get online you’re gonna see some bullshit about you because of me.”

“Gray, it’s alright. It’s okay, I can handle it.”

“No, you can’t, nobody can, it’s gonna get to you. If you say it doesn’t effect you, you’re fucking lying.” He ran his hands through his hair and then down over his face, sucking in a breath that Indiana recognized.

“Gray, don’t cry. Look, look.” She unlocked her phone again, exited instagram and held down until it shook, deleting it quickly from her phone. “I don’t even post much anyways. And I don’t have a twitter, I’m not gonna see what they say about me. I don’t care, I promise you I don’t.”

Her gut told her a different story. Though it wasn’t her favorite quality of herself, Indy liked to be liked. It was natural, but she sought validation from other people more than she wanted to, and it made her dangerously curious to see what had caused such a visceral reaction in her boyfriend.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, dropping his head. She got up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“It’s okay. We’re okay. It’s not your fault.”

And for the first time in his almost three months of knowing Indiana, he didn’t believe her.

#WOOOOOO #I hope you guys like it!#let me know what you think pls :')#mixtape #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan fanfic

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years

Text

Dangerous Love (Pt. 07 of 13)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Batman) X Harley Quinn's sister!Reader

Word count: 2.9K

Summary: You're Harley Quinn's sister, Havoc, one of the many villain's of Gotham. But you've been caught, and has been tortured constantly for an year in Belle Reve. But when your think your life can't be anything else than the nightmare you find yourself into, Bruce Wayne, the Batman, takes you in for a project. He has a program to rehabilitate villains, and you're his lab rat. But soon enough confusing feelings start getting in the way. You know falling for Bruce is stupid. But can you keep your heart under control?

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{Justice League - DC Masterlist}

The Calm Before The Storm

• Bruce's POV •

I'm suddenly awake by a scream. Sitting up abruptly, I take in the silence. A bad dream probably. Running a hand through my hair, I lie back down, staring at the ceiling. Then I hear it again, a call for help and another yell.

(Y/N).

As soon as I recognize her voice, I'm already up, taking the key to her room and running there. Is she hurt? There's nothing in there that would cause an accident. When I'm close, I hear groans, like a cry.

But when I open the door, I find her on the bed, hugging her pillow tight. The soft light coming from the window reflects on the many tears on her face. What is it that scares her so much? She's breathing fast, hands clenched into fists.

Without thinking, I lie beside her, delicately touching her shoulder, trying to wake her up as softly as I can.

“Wake up.”

• (Y/N's) POV •

A voice calls you, and you're pulled away from your terror. You know who's calling, and you immediately feel safe. Bruce is saving you from the nightmares, and it seems like whenever he's in the dream, the bad ones don't come again.

“Bruce.” He's lying behind you, so you take his arm, pulling it over your waist. “If you hold me I won't be scared,” you mumble, moving closer to him. “Don't leave me.”

“I won't.” His illusion answers, and it feels so real. Why can't this be real? Because you're a villain, and he's the hero... Because you would never be brave enough to do this in real life. And Bruce would never want to hold you like this.

“Bruce?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

His voice is low on your ear, and you can't help but smile at the name he calls you. You feel his chest moving as he breaths. “This isn't real.”

“Why can't this be real?”

“Because nobody would love me.”

“You're wrong.” His thumb caresses your chin, and you smile again.

“I think I could fall in love with you,” you mutter.

“Me too.” His answer seems familiar as if you've already had this conversation before. Maybe in another dream. “Now get some sleep.”

“Ok.”

You're not scared anymore. With him, you know you'll be safe.

•••

You're happy today. You had a good night sleep, and you're one year older, which means you managed to stay alive for another entire year. And you're celebrating it out of that hell hole Belle Reve. You're brushing your hair, smiling to yourself when you hear the door opening.

“(Y/N)?”

“Hey, Bruce!” You exclaim, leaving the bathroom.

“I brought you this. But it's not your gift yet.” He shows you the plastic bag he's carrying.

“What is it?”

He searches for something in it, showing you a box die. “I had these for a while. It's the closest color to your natural hair.”

Hesitantly, you take the small box from his hand. It seems to have two more in the bag, and some other things. You knew he didn't like your hair. “Thanks...” You mumble, wondering if dyeing your hair would make him like you. Looking away, you make your way to the bed.

“You don't have to do it you don't want to.”

“I get it, Bruce. You want me to look normal.” And as quick as that, the day is ruined. Bruce doesn't like you, obviously, look at you. You're Havoc, a criminal. You can't look at him right now, so you put the box on the nightstand and lie down, pulling the blankets to cover your head. “Can you just bring me breakfast and leave me alone, please?” You can't deal with it right now. The best you can do is dream... In your dreams, Bruce hugs you, so tight... In your dreams, he's yours.

“(Y/N).” He calls, softly.

“Get out, Bruce,” you beg.

“I don't care about your hair color. I bought you this in case you wanted the natural color back. It's not about me, it's about you.”

“Then...” You sit up, watching as he sits on the edge of the bed. “...What if I wanted to dye the roots lilac?”

“Tell me what you'll need and I'll get it for you.” His stare is intense, yet gentle. Slowly, he puts his hand above yours in the mattress. “You're beautiful. Lilac hair or not. Now, come. I want to take you somewhere.”

“Where?” A smile comes to your lips as you get up to follow Bruce. He opens the door, and you give a little jump. “Are you taking me to see the gardens?”

“Yes. But you'll have to keep your eyes closed until we get there.”

Nodding, you close your eyes. Bruce takes your hand, and you cling on his arm. You walk slowly, mostly downstairs. You suddenly feel fresh wind on your hair and the lighting changes. You're outside. “Just a while longer now.”

“Alright.” You have to control yourself not to peak. Being here is already amazing. Bruce trusts you, right? He wouldn't do that if he didn't.

Stopping suddenly, you bite your lip. “Open.” When you do, you swear to God your heart stops.

There's a wooden table, and pink, purple and white balloons. A beautiful cake in the middle, cupcakes, colorful macarons... Confetti all over the place. You can't help but cry, but you don't try to hide it. You're still holding Bruce's arm, unable to move. Is it really for you? You don't deserve it.

“Bruce, I...”

“Happy Birthday, (Y/N).” He says, pulling you with him until you're at the table. “I hope you like it.”

“I... I don't even know what to say. My birthdays were like... Just robbery and then... This is...” You take a macaron, a blue one, and take a bite. “This is incredible.”

“That's not all.” Bruce walks around the table, taking two boxes he left of the bench, piled one above the other. “Your gifts.”

“Two?”

“Two. One for each month you've been here.” He puts them on the table, gesturing for you to approach. You're blushing hard now. “Open.”

“Alright.” Unable to hide the smile, you shily start open the biggest box. Inside, you find a beautiful, sparkly silver dress. As you pull it up to take a better look, the fabric is soft on your skin. It has a sweetheart neckline and spaghetti straps, bareback. “Do you think I'll look good in it?”

“We'll find out tonight at dinner,” Bruce answers with a smile.

“Dinner?”

He simply nods. “Open the next one.”

Taking a deep breath, you lie the dress down, focusing on the other box. Black high heels, Mary Jane flatforms if you're not wrong, with red bottom. It goes with the dress, apparently. “They look badass,” you say, holding one in your hands. “Are those for tonight too?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you... Nobody cared enough to give me something for my birthday. Not without me asking... Or demanding.” Shaking your head to push away the thought, you focus on what's happening now. “So... Thanks again.”

“Hey, no bad thoughts ok? No bad memories.” Bruce takes your hand over the table and you smile. “Now eat your cake.”

That's the sweetest morning you ever had. Bruce doesn't seem in a hurry to leave or to do anything else. You just sit there eating a little of everything. You take in the whole scenario, but Bruce is better than all this. Having him here with you... It's amazing. You never spent a birthday with someone you loved...

With someone you care about, you mean.

When it's time for lunch, you just start eating again.

“So... Were you here last night? Or did Batman went to patrol the streets?” You ask him, a hand caressing the fabric of your dress.

“I slept in yesterday night.” There's something weird in his voice, but you have no idea what it is. “What about you? Did you sleep well?”

Your mind floats back to the dream. It never felt so real, it's like your brain is pulling a joke on you. Maybe it's just your confused feelings playing tricks. You remember his arm around you, his chest pressed against your back, the warmth coming from his body... You'd give everything you have to make it real. Or everything you had, because now it's kinda obvious you can't claim those things. And you don't think you want to.

“Yes, I... I had the best dream and it... It made me feel safe.”

“Would you tell me?”

“I can't...” Whispering, you avoid his gaze. Does he dream about you too? Of course, he doesn't. “Good dreams mean something is working, right?”

“Yes, but that's not me. It's you... I just gave you a little push in the right direction.”

“Yeah... Uhm, it's getting late. I'll take a shower and read a little.” You need to go back to your room to think. The sun will start setting soon anyways.

“Do that. I'll call you when dinner is ready.” Nodding, you stand up and take your gifts, making your way back, but you stop when you notice he's not following you.

“Hey?” You call. “Let's go. Game Of Thrones book two is waiting for me.”

“You can go.”

Tilting your head to the side, you turn on your heels to look at him. “What do you mean?” You know the key is in his pocket.

“(Y/N), just go.” Even though the distance, you see a smile on his lips. “I won't lock your door.”

“Don't trust me too much, Bruce.”

“It's a little too late for that.” That said, he gets up, walking inside, and leaving you alone.

Taking a deep breath, you decide you can't deal with this before a long damn shower and some pages of the book. So you make your way upstairs, and you spend two hours in the bathroom, thinking. There's a lot going on in your head.

There's a part of you, a small part you figured out, that still wants to be Havoc. That part was what made you run and break the kitchen window. But there's something else entirely, another part, that wants the past to be in the past. The life you had out there was good. You had mountains of money, fast cars, expensive jewels...

Things.

You had plenty of things.

What Bruce gave you here, is beyond all that. He cared about you. Not because he has to, for being some of your employees. But because he saw something inside you that you couldn't. He looks at you with such kindness, he touched you so softly... You think you found yourself, the real you, behind all the walls you built. You had a hell lot of fun out there, in Gotham's streets... But at the end of the day, there was always the possibility of being caught. And for people like you, being caught means getting hurt... Badly. And there was emptiness too. Loneliness. It's not a good feeling to know people only care because they fear you. You know that now.

You know what you want. You want a better life. You have no idea how to get it, but you'll ask Bruce for help.

After the night falls, you put on the dress. It's beautiful, breathtaking. You look like someone else. The shoes make you a lot taller, but not as tall as Bruce. But you'll be closer to his lips, you're sure. When you turn around to see the back, you sigh to notice the bruises will be showing. Such a nice dress wasn't made for you... You have no idea what to do with your hair, so you have no option but to let it down. It doesn't look good...

There won't be anyone here, but you'll still feel misplaced...

A knock on the door makes you jump. “Miss (Y/N). Master Bruce is waiting for you downstairs.” Alfred announces.

You wish you had some make-up. You should've asked Bruce to buy you some. But now it's too late for that. Your hair isn't styled, your face is blank and the dress, which is supposed to beautifully leave your back exposed, shows off awful, disgusting bruises... But you have to go down there. So you breathe in deeply and walk out.

• Bruce's POV •

I hear the soft click of the high heels on the floor, and seconds later she appears, at the top of the stairs. It's impossible to hold back the smile that fights its way to my lips. I can't take my eyes off her as she carefully comes downstairs, a hand on the handrail. The dress fits her perfectly. My guess is that (Y/N) looks beautiful no matter what she wears, or what color she puts on her hair.

Her eyes wander around, to the lights, the chandelier, the table I set for us in the middle of the hall. And a smile, hesitant at first, takes over her features. From her lips up to her eyes, lighting her up.

“It's wonderful.” She says, stopping before me, yet avoiding my eyes. “I didn't notice how huge this place is. I would easily get lost.”

I'm looking down at her, taking her in. Her scent, delicate and unmistakable, draws me closer. She doesn't seem to notice though. “You'll learn,” I assure her, and she finally looks at me with funny eyes. She doesn't believe me.

“So you'll let me walk around the house now?”

“One more birthday gift.” I trust her. I saw as she broke the window glass, and punched through it, with my heart burning.

The thought of losing her that night suffocated me. Nothing scared me so much. But she suddenly stopped, and so did my world. Slowly, I watch as she stepped down the sink and silently walked away. That made me realize it's useless to pretend (Y/N) doesn't own my heart. It's in her possession, and she doesn't even know.

I walk beside her as she paces around, curious eyes observing every detail. As she comments on everything, I wonder where to go from now. From the acknowledgment of love. I've never been there. I never thought I'd be able to hold such a feeling, but (Y/N) has proven me wrong, as she's doing to everyone who thought she was a waste of time.

It's a lot easier to be Batman than to figure out these things. These feelings. I can't help but wonder if she feels the same.

She held me so close, on those nights she thinks I was a dream. She said it herself, that she could fall in love with me. Was it true? Is it happening? Should I ask? I'd know what to do if she was like the women who have tried to approach me. But it's (Y/N)... And I don't know what to do. My guard is down, and these feelings keep flooding my heart.

There's only one thing I know for sure. That my heart isn't my own again.

• (Y/N's) POV •

“That's the nicest thing someone did for me,” you admit, turning to face him. You have to focus on not letting him see your back. “It looks like a fairy tale.”

“I'm happy you like it.”

“I–” A soft song starts playing, coming from everywhere. A hell of a sound system he has. “There aren't many ladies to dance with this time, Bruce Wayne,” you tell him as he takes your hand, pulling you close.

“Good. That means I can dance with you all night.”

“You- you shouldn't say things like this,” you mutter, feeling his arms around your waist. Your hands lay on his biceps as he starts to swing from side to side, slowly. And yes, you are closer to his lips now. But he'd still have to bend down a little... You mean, if he ever considered kissing you. Which he probably never did.

“Why not?”

“Nevermind... Just...” You wrap your arms around his neck, your bodies standing close. You smile to feel his thumb caressing the bare skin on your back. “Bruce, I could never pay you back. Not only for this but... For everything you have done for me.”

“I'm not asking for anything in return.” He takes one of your hands, but when he moves you to spin around, you stop suddenly.

“No,” you mutter, going back into his arms. It was supposed to go completely unnoticed, but you feel his eyes burning on you.

“Something wrong?”

“No, of course not,” you mumble, eyes on his chest.

“(Y/N)? Didn't you promised to be honest?” You stop dancing, and he steps back a little, an index finger on your chin, pulling your head up until you're looking into his eyes. “What's wrong?”

“I... The dress is absolutely beautiful but... My back is all wreck and it looks so awful that... This dress wasn't made me someone like me... It just... My skin is still all bruised and...”

“I don't care. You're beautiful.”

Biting your lip, you have to control yourself. You want so badly to kiss him... And when he says things like this it only gets worse. “If you keep saying things like that I might end up thinking you like me so... Don't.”

“Maybe I want you to think that.”

“What?” As you speak, some sort of alarm goes off. Two loud beeps. A pause. Them two more beeps. “What's that?”

“Something happened. Something bad.” Bruce pulls you close suddenly, placing a kiss on your forehead. Your whole body burns, and you gasp for air. “I'm sorry, I'll have to go.”

“It's ok. Go get them, Batman.” You say with a smile, watching as he steps away, slowly at first, before turning around and leaving.

Alfred serves you dinner, and he also acts more kindly. Then you go to bed, the feeling of Bruce's lips on your forehead still burning. You're almost falling asleep when the door is opened, and a very worried Bruce makes you sit up abruptly.

“Hi.”

“(Y/N), I need you to listen to me.” He comes to sit beside you, and you hear a noise, like an airplane coming closer. “There's another Task Force X mission. And they demand you to go.”

“What?” It's hard to process what he's saying. “No.” You push yourself backwards until your back hits the headboard. “What- what do you mean?”

“There was nothing I could do.”

“No,” you repeat, hands covering your face. “Tell them I won't go.” You made a decision today, that you want a different life. Now, this... This can't be happening. Not now. Not when you're finally putting yourself back together. “Bruce, please.” You're crying, suddenly moving into his arms, tugging on his shirt. “I don't want to go.”

“Listen.” Bruce holds both your shoulders, his intense eyes on yours. “You're a strong woman. I'm sorry you have to do this and I promise... I promise you I'll never let them make demands of you again. You won't be their prisoner anymore.”

“Bruce...” You beg, eyes closing as you realize this noise is from their ship. They're already coming to take you.

“Listen.” He cups your face. “You'll track down some terrorists. They attacked a small town in New Mexico. You'll be doing something good, helping people.”

“Like you?” You whisper, your foreheads touching.

“Like me, yes.” A quick smile crosses his lips. “I will free you from them. I promise.”

“But I'll come back here, right?”

“Yes. They'll bring you here when the mission is over.”

The noise gets louder and louder until it stops. They're here.

Bruce walks beside you, silently. You're shaking like a leaf. When you reach the front door, you hear people talking. Taking a deep breath, you tell yourself that you can do this. You have to. Because you have to come back.

“Are you–”

You let the impulse fulfill its purpose this time. Pulling Bruce by the collar of his shirt, you tiptoe, crushing your lips on his. You swear you feel a little dizzy, but you don't give him time to react. Stepping back, your strength suddenly renewed, you open the front door and face the guards that came here to take you away.

@redwolf-7 @glitterypinkkitty @mybabyboytony @chipster-21 @agustdpeach @yaakimoon2 @chloe-skywalker

#imagine bruce #bruce imagine #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne imagine #imagine bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #ben affleck batman #imagine batman #batman imagine #batman x reader #Justice League imagine #justice league imagine

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incorrectclonewars · 3 years

Text

at odds part.1

another maulsoka fanfic! this one is a modern au where everyone is human. sidious is a big crime lord and maul is his right-hand man to make all the bad things happen and was in a relationship with ahsoka, until she found out the things he was doing and broke up with him and moved away.

maul as a human is pale and heavily inked with tattoos, red spiky hair and dressed in all black and of course a leather jacket. ahsoka is dark skinned with vitiligo, her hair is white with blue dye, and she wears a mix between feminine and tomboy.

warning: mentions of blood & bruises, getting beaten up and some medical help (not serious, just some normal things like when you get a scratch) . lots of angst, swearing, mentions of sex (not including the word sex) and a make-out. did i mention angst?

The dark night sky was filled with rain and thunder, exactly how she remembered it. The shabby homes and apartments, lined up and creaked with every footstep, people dressed in dark clothing - hoodies their favourite, and walked around as if they were up to no good.

Ah yes, that’s exactly how Ahsoka remembered this place which she used to call home, now coming back she wondered how she could ever imagine seeing this shit hole as somewhere to live.

The brightness on her phone had to be decreased to not strain her eyes, the messages from just an hour ago reminded her why she had such thoughts.

Oh Maul...what have you done now?

Feral had called her an hour ago in a frantic, saying Maul wasn’t himself, especially after she left and was only getting worse. He needed help, and she was the only option despite leaving him two years ago.

She could never forget the sight of those unconscious bodies and Maul standing over them, blood on his hands. But the look on his face when he saw her - it broke her heart, but after knowing that he was doing this for years she just couldn’t stay with him, and left as soon as she could.

But after hearing Feral, she knew that she needed to come back.

Her hands shook as they turned the key in the lock and hearing the click, taking a deep breath, Ahsoka walked through the door and shut it behind her. Unlike the other accommodations, the floors here didn’t creak under her feet, but that didn’t stop her from taking slow and cautious steps.

He isn’t here, ok, that was good. She had time to prepare then.

She went through many scenarios in her head for what she would say to Maul but none of them felt good enough, what could she say? That she was sorry for leaving, but she had to because of what he did? It was true, but it felt too blunt, too harsh.

Her feet kept moving, taking in the place she once called home. It looked...bad. Clothes on the ground, dishes in the sink, paper peeling off the walls -

“Oh…” The chairs were broken, laid on the floor that Ahsoka can only think that they had been thrown against the wall, and knows who did it.

She doesn’t dare go any further, and fate seems to agree as the door is burst open, clanking loudly at the force and as it shuts. Ahsoka freezes only for a second before pulling herself back together, and turns.

It’s Maul, dressed in black as always, but his clothing is ripped, there’s also blood. Her eyes widen at his state, and when he see’s her, he freezes.

“Ahsoka…”

Force, she had missed her name from his lips - she had missed his voice.

“Maul…”

Shit. She can’t speak, she can’t say why she’s here and wants to help him before he stares her down with a glare.

“What are you doing here?” He asks with a harsh voice. Ahsoka expected this, yet it still hurts. “Come to gloat at how better your life is without me? How Coruscant is much better than this piece of trash?” He turns away and sits on the couch, the only furniture that hasn’t been trashed.

She sighs. “Maul -”

“Or, have you found someone else and come to rub it in my face? Tell me how much better he is than me in every single way? Oh, and the sex must be great -”

“Would you shut up and let me talk!”

He whips his head back and he stands. “Why should I? You left me!”

“I know I did, and I’m sorry -”

“Oh your sorry? Well that makes everything better doesn’t it!” He throws his hands in the air. “Why don’t we have a little tea party and celebrate -!” A wince cuts off his rant, his attention now at his side where his hands hold.

Ahsoka looks at him worriedly and takes a step forward. “Maul, let me help.” He opens his mouth but she’s quick. “Please. Just...Just let me help you with those wounds, I’ll answer any question you give me. Please.”

She’s begging - pleading for him, she wants to talk, to set everything right no matter how long it’ll take, but not while he’s in pain and bleeding. He stares at her with anger in his eyes, but it’s faded as he sighs and sits back down, a wave of his hand as he says. “Do what you want.”

Ok, this is good - well, the yelling may have ended, but it was far from over.

It’s a good thing she keeps a kit in her bag, being with Anakin too long made it happen.

But first, a wet cloth.

She finds a clean one and fills up a tub with cold water, and gently sits down next to him with the bowl on the table. He doesn’t look at her, it’s hurtful but expected. She touches his arm and he tenses, and recoils back.

“Maul,” Ahsoka begs softly. He sneers and basically slams his arm on her lap, turning his head away more and leaning his chin on the palm of his head. Ok, that was kinda childish, but she’ll leave it for now. Unlike Maul, she’s gentle as she positions his arm so that she can gently wipe and rib the blood off, new and old.

It’s silent for a few minutes, but Ahsoka can’t hold it in any longer.

“What happened?” Her voice as soft and gentle as it could be knowing his reactions, but with a lingering tone suggesting that she wasn’t going to back down.

Maul waits longer then a minute to answer. “Just some assholes who didn’t know when to stop.”

Vague, she remembers how sometimes she would ask him something; What did he want to eat or drink? Where should they go out for the day? What does this mean? Most of the times he could give a straight answer, other times he liked to play and would be so very vague about it that it ended up in a playfully wrestling match.

She misses those times.

Once the blood is gone she pulls out the kit of her beg and disinfects the wound before wrapping it up, then moves onto the other. There isn’t much on his arm so she finishes quickly, and moves onto his chest.

She mentions to his shirt. “You need to take this off.”

“Already trying to get into my pants?”

Ahsoka ignores the blush and heat of her body, memories of them being playful as they stripped their clothing and had fun.

Maul threw the shirt on the table and Ahsoka didn’t really care to tell him off, her thoughts on the semi-battered chest before her.

There are small cuts and bruises that won’t do any damage so they get done fast, some others take longer, but they are treated nevertheless. The one that made him wince was big, more bruised then the rest but had no blood - he was kicked there, perhaps.

She taps it gentle. “Someone got a hit.”

“He paid for it greatly.”

She almost doesn’t want to know. “Please tell me you -”

“I didn’t kill him.” Maul cuts her off. “Rest assured, his body as well as his friends are just having a hard time getting to the hospital. They’ll make it.”

Swallowing the sigh of relief, a part of her cheers that they’re still alive, but she can’t avoid Maul’s actions in the matter. He still did what he did, it was wrong and she can’t push that away.

She finishes cleaning and disinfecting it, now it’s time to wrap it up.

Ahsoka pulls him to sit forward, there’s a grumble on his lips that dies as soon as she begins to wrap the first roll around his torso. Her job right now is to help his wounds, but her eyes can’t help but avert to his hardened chest that was almost covered by black ink.

She remembers laying with him in bed in the afterglow of their first night and tracing the lines of his tattoos, each one having a story that she listened to as he told her. He was warm and held her tightly as he kissed her forehead and smiled at her so lovingly.

If only she didn’t see that night, that would still be happening, but she would have found out eventually and done the same thing.

Better now that later they always say.

The bandage now done, Ahsoka ties it up tight to keep it from falling. “You need to change these everyday, wash your cuts, wounds and bruises before you put a new one back on. Also change them if they get dirty or wet. I’ll leave this here -”

“Why did you leave?”

The question fills the air with tension and freezes the young woman. Ahsoka knew he would ask that, she’s surprised it wasn’t the first thing that came out of his mouth when he saw her, but he must have been too shocked to see her here.

Letting the roll of bandage fall to the table, Ahsoka sits back but doesn’t look at him. “When I saw you that night, everything started to make sense. The times you were out, the plans having to be cancelled because you had more work to do and the strange hours you worked. At first I thought that you were seeing someone else, but I knew you weren’t that kind of person.” Hands together, her fingers brush and twiddle against each other. “I saw the name Sidious on your contacts and overheard you say his name a few times, along with some other things that didn’t sound good, but I trusted you. That night you said that you were going to be late again so I thought I would cook a nice dinner, and then I saw you, and everything just clicked together.”

She had done some research on the name after she saw that scene and found tie-ins to violent attacks, gangs and criminal organisations. He had people all around the city doing his bidding, and looking at one hooded figure, she was filled with a feeling of familiarity, and was horrified for it to be Maul.

“You could have stayed here, and wait for me to come back and explain.”

“I could have, but I was scared. I needed to get away from it all and sort everything out.”

“And did you?” His tone was still angry, but curious.

Ahsoka shook her head. She didn’t really figure anything out when she left, all her thoughts were on Maul. “No, all I could think about….was you.” Finally she turns to him to see the widen of his eyes, clearly not expecting an answer like that. She’s waiting for him to glare, yell and scream like before, even threatening her to get out -

She gasps when he touches her cheek, his fingers gently brushing over the skin. He’s staring at her and she can’t help but fall to those eyes, she didn’t realise they had moved closer until his nose was just inches away from her own.

“I missed you.”

“...I missed you too.” He says in a whisper with a look of brokenness, her heart clenches, and when he cups her cheek, she leans into the touch.

Maul shifts closer, a knee between her legs.

It’s like watching in slow motion, knowing what’s about to come, but she gives no resistance as his lips cover her own

Ahsoka’s hands find their way to his body, one on his arm and the other over his hand on her cheek as she pulls him closer.

Force - it feels so good, so natural, so much like home.

Maul growls and presses further, his hands moving to her coat and pushing it down, she allows him to throw it off her, His hands on her waist and rubbing against her clothing, and she can’t help but moan and melt under it all.

Before Ahsoka knows it, she’s pushed on her back and Maul’s hands are all over her, drinking her in until they get underneath her shirt. She breaks the kiss to moan and lavishes at his lips on her neck as his hands rise and reach her bra to squeeze her breasts.

No. This is wrong. They shouldn’t be doing this.

“Maul -”

“Shhh.” He purrs at her ear, the hit of his breath causing goosebumps. “Don’t talk, just feel, and moan.”

He nibbles along her shoulder and for a few seconds she gives in, then gently pushes at his shoulder.

“No...Maul, stop.”

Thankfully he does, and he leans up to look down at her with a cocked eyebrow.

Ahsoka lets out a breath. “We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” He frowns at her, and for a moment she thinks of just giving in, to let herself sink into this pleasure and deal with all of this in the morning. But that would only make things worse.

“Because, we’re not…we’re not together anymore.”

He stares at her a bit long for her liking, then sneers and pulls away, she sits up as fast as she can and looks at the heavily tattooed and bruised man.

A part of her regrets her choice to stop it, but it was the right thing to do.

“I��m sorry.” She whispers. What more could she say to him?

His fists clench and teeth gritted, but he looks away from her, and says in the most broken and angry voice she has ever heard. “Just go.”

Her heart breaks, she’s so tempted to get closer and touch him again, to stay, but both were bad options right now.

It would be best if she left.

“Ok.” She says a bit louder then a whisper, and packs her things away before picking up her coat and putting it back on. She grabs her bag and heads to the door, pausing on handle. “My number hasn’t changed,” Her voice now louder, enough for him to hear from the distance. “Please, contact me if you need anything.”

She’s met with silence, and takes that as her que to leave.

----------------------------------------------------------------

She holds it all in on the way home, as she puts her shoes at the doorway and walks to her room, putting the bag down at her desk and changing into pyjamas. When she hits the bed does she let all her feelings out, all the crying and whispered sorry’s in her head.

I fucked up.

And she doesn’t know how the hell to fix it.

#mine #my writing #star wars #the clone wars #ahsoka tano #darth maul #darth sidious #maulsoka

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floralseokjin · 5 years

Text

;club zombie (m)

In a world overrun by zombies, you’d think everyone was a goner, but the reality is much different. A steady diet of brains lets a zombie exist as a fully functioning human. Just ignore the part where they’re technically dead… In fact, these days, the amount of zombies outweigh the humans. A lot jump at the chance to be turned. Beg for it.

Kim Seokjin controls the underground of Seoul. No one would dare cross him. That’s how most of the world goes these days. You wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of a zombie now, would you? However, you don’t quite see it like that. Spending most nights dancing at the club he owns, you catch his eye. It’s never the wrong side if you’re underneath him, right…?

pairing; kim seokjin x reader genre/warnings; zombie! seokjin, mafia boss! seokjin, smut, oc has a ring kink (relatable), gets angsty two thirds in, some type of romance bc of course it gets fluffy towards the end lol words; 17,113

listen to; friction // 555

⇢ Part of the Deadly Intentions collaboration. With @btssmutgalore, @kpopfanfictrash, @underthejoon, @lamourche , @prolixitae and @taetaetrashhh, who organised the whole thing and created the moodboard!

Please forget everything you’ve ever known about most zombie portrayals in books, movies and tv series, because this is totally different. The idea and inspiration came from the television adaptation of iZombie. If you’ve watched it then you have a better vision of how the zombies in my story are portrayed. If not, then please just give it a go lol. It may sound wacky, but it’s Halloween! So here’s to the 🧟🍆!! I hope you enjoy!

You could hear Seokjin’s footsteps, boots clanking up the wooden stairs, and your stomach lurched in anticipation. He’d made you wait two frustratingly long hours, which was hell considering you hadn’t had time to be alone together all week. You were beyond excited for him to finally get his hands on you. Your body had long got used to craving him down to the very bone.

He came into sight, the image of you draped along his bed rooting him in his tracks. Your robe barely covered your modesty. Nipples visibly hard against the silk. Sometimes there was no need for underwear. Not when it got torn off most of the time. He needn’t waste his money anymore. You let a slow smirk stretch across your face. “How do you want me tonight, Sir?”

No need to greet him with a hello neither. What was the point? He’d told you to be in his home ready for him when he got back. Bedroom. He’d made that very specific. There was no need for pleasantries. Not when you knew greater ways to please him.

Him.

Kim Seokjin.

How did you get here again? So easily. So willingly. Like you’d wanted such a thing from the moment you’d laid your eyes on him. You had. Seokjin wasn’t your husband, nor boyfriend. He wasn’t even a casual hook up. In some ways he was more than any of the above. In others, he was less. It was an arrangement. The most simplest kind. Sex. With the city’s most dangerous man.

No one in Seoul would dare cross him. Hell, this whole country. Maybe it ran deeper than even that. No, what were you saying? It definitely did. You just didn’t want to know. You didn’t want to know the details. You didn’t even want to think about what they could be. To you, the man you shared yourself so openly with could never be what they all described him as. Not when he’d shared so much with you too. It was puzzling to think people actually feared him. He had never frightened you. In fact, you’d only ever known him as gentle. Even when he had his icy cold hands wrapped around your throat, fucking into you so hard his bed, amongst other things, were fit to break.

Yeah. This wasn’t the turn you thought your life would take. But then again, this world wasn’t exactly the same place it had been four years ago. The human race had to grow a thicker skin. Most changed completely. See, Seokjin wasn’t just your average crime lord. He was a rotter. So was over half the population.

Dead and rotten on the inside. Cold and smooth on the outside. The correct scientific term was Undead, but in simpler, more familiar terms, they were zombies. Not your average text fiction kind though. No flesh rots. No foul smell. No incoherent noises, that sent a bolt of terror and dread through your body. No, the undead were able to live as fully functioning humans for the most part. A reality that took a little while to make sense of, but as it did, the world everyone had known began to change. Drastically.

Unsure how it all started, although known to have been caused by some crazy scientist type, the disease, as it was called—now more of a lifestyle—had swept through most of America before their government and medicals could get to grips with it. It was as it was known in fiction. A zombie apocalypse. The whole world went into lockdown, flown into madness. Panic and strife were universal. The infected were destroyed and the potentially infected were quarantined. It was there they began to understand the infection.

The virus still burning through the veins of the innocent would be extremely difficult to handle. The were, by lack of knowledge back then, your “cannon” zombie. Unable to speak, unable to think, and their eyes sunken, black and lifeless. If given the chance, and some had been, they would tear at the flesh of the uninfected, feast on their brains. However, kept under a close eye, locked and controlled in a box room where they couldn’t see out but an array of people could see in, medicals soon discovered there were ways to quell the deep, ravenous need they had inside them. Portions. That was the key. Starved or gorged of human brain just turned them frenzied. The need as a fresh, baby zombie was insatiable but with a controlled diet the world became a little more normal again.

If you could ever call it normal. Human greed was at an all-time high. Who didn’t find it amazing that you could be a certified zombie while also retaining your human life? Who wouldn’t want to be dangerous? Feared? Who wouldn’t want to live potentially forever? The list went on, and that didn’t include countless governments’ motives. Soon the infection had spread willingly throughout the world. It caused fresh havoc. Some countries who hadn’t even wanted to get caught up in the mess, perished because they were too small or undeveloped. But most were smart, scheming. Here in the East a plan was concocted.

Somehow they found the individual who created the virus. Whether they went willingly or were forced no one would ever know. Their identity still remained a mystery even after all these years. Together some of the countries’ top scientists helped mutate the sickness into something “better”. Injected straight into the veins, there was no longer a fear of the infected losing control. The Undead were created. Just another form of human, but with a hunger for brains. It took a total of eighteen months for the world to be okay again.

Now that was all just a memory. Zombies were considered the norm, accepted into society long ago. A recent consensus found that just under 60% of the world’s population were undead. Humans the minority. They lived like humans, worked like humans and had families like humans. Although not in the traditional sense. The undead could still have sex. The men could still cum, by some grace of god, lucky them, but they were infertile. Women too. Reproductive system dead like the rest of them.

Of course, just because there were a lot of humane rotters, didn’t mean there weren’t bad ones amongst the mix. Like you said, humans were greedy. Mostly for power, and being a rotter in the right place, right time gave people tonnes of that. They weren’t truly immortal though. That was well known. A shot to their rotten brain would kill them. Nothing else. That’s where the infection resided.

To be turned there was a system. Applications, interviews, contracts…a waiting list for the injection that would alter your life forever. However, it didn’t work like that most of the time. The world wasn’t so perfect. Corrupt would be a better description. There were other, more simple, ways of turning. A bite or a scratch. Or even sexually transmitted within the first year of infection. There was nothing the government could do about it, and there were many illegal zombies rooming the country. And try all they might, no matter how many times, scientists couldn’t change the way infection took place.

They also couldn’t change the compulsion for brains. Yes, there was no lost control in the beginning, but starved of brains for too long, devolved them into the “cannon” zombie once again. It would take months of starvation, but after the deed was done, it was impossible to be reverted back. Thus they were destroyed. As you could guess, crime levels had not lowered. They had only gotten worse due to gluttony.

Donors now offered their brains up once dead, in a bid to keep portions up. There was complete control when it came to that, but again, that didn’t stop some rotters. Over the years, a lot more murder victims had been found missing a brain. But you digressed. It wasn’t all bad for the undead. They didn’t starve. They could still eat normal food, just oddly needed some extra spice. Their tastebuds has pretty much been destroyed after the turn, so hot sauce was their best friend. Scientists had also created “fake” brain. Think of it along the same vein as fake meat for vegetarians. A substitute. It didn’t give complete satisfaction, but it helped. In fact, they had quite an array of foods now, sold at any local convenience and grocery stores. For some reason brain sushi always made you laugh when you saw it. Surreal. Fast food stores had also caught on. Yes, Big Brain Mac was a thing now… What more did they want? As long as they had the real thing each month, life went on as normal.

They looked normal too. You’d forgotten to mention that one. Sometimes, with the help of hair dye and fake tan, they looked just like their past selves. There were a couple of giveaways though. If they weren’t high maintenance. Their eyes had changed an ice grey after the virus had taken hold, skin pale and cold, and hair turning white. Sometimes fully, but more often than not streaks or wisps of it. Oh, and their heart rate was ten beats per minute. They were dead after all. Pretty much. It was only when they lost themselves, did they turn into something horrific. Eyes black, sunken into their skull, cheeks gaunt, close to rotting. You’d heard they could also fall into a zombie trance when experiencing intense emotions. Depending on the situation it had different levels of severe. You had never seen this though. You knew very well, that was a benefit for certain zombies. A scare factor. Intimation factor. Like you said, there were many who used their rotter status for evil and crime…

Which put Seokjin in a very grey area.

He controlled the underground of this city. You hated using the word mafia, naïve to it all. Something fictional to you, but that’s exactly what was going on. An organised crime syndicate. The oldest son of a wealthy and corrupt family, Seokjin was always heir to the blood soaked throne. He was extremely powerful, even more so than the city’s law enforcement. Actually, you knew for a fact he worked side by side with them a lot of time. Probably called most of the shots. He’d been human in the beginning, when he’d first become in charge, not long before the virus began spreading, but of course that had soon changed. You’d heard stories of how his turn came to be, but you took those with a grain of salt. They were hearsay in your eyes. You’d never been one for rumours and gossip.

As it would have it, you’d only ever known him as undead. You started working at his club just over a year ago. How you got there wasn’t important, you just liked to dance, and dancing was a must at Club Zombie. Cheesy name, but it got the custom. It was almost a sort of tourist attraction. An after dark one. Humans and zombies alike. The dancers were both too. It could be a seedy place sometimes, but you didn’t mind dancing around a pole for men when their money was involved. The day was yours, the night was easy; just dancing, putting on a show. Besides, you were safe. Seokjin never let anything happen to the women that worked for him.

This was the place you could find him at the most, although strictly professional he never brought danger here. The rumours surrounding him were probably what made the club so popular to begin with. He wasn’t stupid. A zombie mob boss, what fiction was made of. Everyone lapped it up. Some nights he sat right up front, quite literally a throne on a podium, surveying the bar and dance platforms. It helped that he was extremely good looking. Got the humans with a kink all riled up. Such soft, movie star looks when you truly studied him. Jarring in a way. A white streak running along the front of his dark hair, parted at the forehead reminded you of what he was. That and his cold, grey eyes.

It was working at Club Zombie where he soon began to take an interest in you. It was glances your way at first. When you made your way to the dressing rooms, or more often than not, when your eyes met as you danced and twisted around the pole. You wouldn’t admit it back then, but it did send a thrill up your spine, fresh confidence washing over you. Even more so when the glances turned to smiles. They could be better described as flirtatious smirks if you didn’t know any better. Because why would anyone like Seokjin want you? He had this whole city at his feet. You were a no one. No, you were imagining the signs. He might’ve not even been looking at you.

But he was. Or course he was. You just couldn’t believe it. Not until one night when he’d asked you to join him for a drink. Halloween night, to be precise. Not that you cared for the holiday. It was just another day.

You were the last one to leave the club. Usually the first, you’d misplaced your cell phone. Took you twenty minutes to find it, fallen behind one of the sofas in the dressing room when you’d flung your jacket down in a hurry not a few hours ago. You were in a hurry when you made your way across the bar, heading for the exit, hand in your purse trying to now find your car keys. You didn’t want to keep Yunho, the barman, waiting any longer. But he wasn’t the one left.

Seokjin was stood behind the bar when you looked up at the call of your name. A peculiar sight. In all the time you’d been here you hadn’t once seen that. The fact he knew your name was even more mindboggling. You opened your mouth to apologise to him, presuming that was why he was asking for your attention, but you got no where. Not when the question he asked stunned you to silence.

“Care to join me for night cap?”

You weren’t one for drinking, never had been funnily enough, but you ended up agreeing. You told yourself it was because he was the boss. You couldn’t say no to him, but the racing of your heart as you sat down argued it was something different.

He drank straight whisky, poured you a glass of rosé you didn’t request. Did he see you as that kind of drinker? Classy. Unless it wasn’t classy at all because you knew nothing about alcohol. You thought he’d stay behind the bar, lord of the house, but to your surprise he came out to meet you. You heart beat even faster when he sat on the stool next to you. You prayed hard that rotters didn’t have an acute sense of hearing. Your knowledge was failing you, but logically, going by that dumb fucking fiction, you’d have to assume they did. He knew you were nervous mess right now. How embarrassing.

He bared his teeth and made a wincing sound as he took a swig of his drink. It was nice to know the burn still affected him, and you watched him tilt the tumbler this way and that, staring at the swirling amber liquid as he did so. Maybe he was giving you time to relax. Maybe he just wanted to sit in silence. Who knew. His rings clanked against the crystallised glass. He always wore them. Large silver bands, dark coloured jewels encased in the centre. He had beautiful hands now that you saw them up close. Wrists too. His shirt sleeves rolled up to the middle of his veiny forearms. The watch he wore was more expensive than anything you’d earn in five years. Maybe a lifetime. You were clueless.

Momentarily distracted, it took you those five minutes to realise you’d never so much as had one conversation with him. He was mostly the untouchable boss who was more like a statue to awe over than a person to share friendlies with. There were other men who worked closely for him here, woman too. Those were who you went to if there was a problem. A drunken customer. A shift you couldn’t make. An emergency you had to leave early for. In fact, even when you had gotten this job it wasn’t by his judgement. So this made the exchange even more awkward considering you’d never said so much as two words to him. You sipped on your wine for something to do. The taste wasn’t all that bad actually.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

You had been so used to the silence you jumped a little from your seat at the sound of his voice. He sounded curious, and you glanced his way to see him giving you his full attention now. Body angled to you; eyes so intense they made you a little unnerved. Fuck. He’d definitely heard the racing of your heart then. Mistaken it for something else.

“Afraid? No.” You decided to be honest. Or at least as honest as you could be. He didn’t need to know you were even more unsteady now than you had been not ten minutes ago. All because of…thoughts, that had entered your mind upon noticing his long, deft fingers. Not that you knew they were skilled, but it was just a hunch. You shrugged in what you hoped was a casual manner. Voice straining to be very much the same. “My nail technician is a zombie. My running buddy at the gym. My doctor.”

To your surprise he chuckled. Deeply amused by something. “I didn’t mean that.” Oh. Had you misunderstood? How embarrassing. “Are you afraid of me because of who I am?”

You blinked slowly. His status. That was what he was referring to. You slowly shook your head, making sure to hold his gaze as you replied. “No.” You shocked even yourself, because you really did mean it. Maybe you were reckless. Your parents had always said such words. You were drawn to the unknown. The excitement got you giddy, but this—he—was something new.

Your idea of living life on the edge was dancing in hardly anything, not warming to a man who discussed crime over breakfast like it was nothing. Did God knows what when he wasn’t sitting in this club.

He nodded in almost confirmation. “Thought not. Just wanted to be sure.” He spoke with a certainty. Like he already knew this information before you did. What vibes were you giving off here? Or was he always this confident and sure when it came to assuming others’ thoughts and feelings…

“Why?” It came out slightly more accusing than you meant it to.

It took him a moment to answer, taking a swig of his whiskey again. You thought he was going to ignore it all together. In a way he did. “Did you know that any human who fucks a rotter in the first year of their transformation gets infected too?”

You took a moment to let that sink in. The casualness of his tone cut with the crude language took you by surprise. You swallowed. “I did.” Everyone did. It was the largest cause of illegal turning. Even a condom wouldn’t save you.

He scoffed in amazement. “It’s amazing how biology works, even for someone dead like me.”

When someone described themselves as dead it never ceased to blow your mind. It was hard to believe that someone as handsome as Seokjin was rotten to the core on the inside. Black and decaying. You let a wry smile play at the corners of your mouth, replying before you took another mouthful of your drink. “This world isn’t what it used to be.”

He didn’t bother to agree, instead taking a moment of silence before he hit you with another question. “Did you also know that we don’t have any sexual urges for a while after we’ve been turned?”

This time it took you everything to hold it together. The shock close to becoming visible on your face. You suddenly thought of every time he had glanced your way in the past few weeks. Each smile he had given you. Just like the one he was giving you now as he waited for your reply. “I heard it varies from r-zombie to zombie.”

You stopped yourself at the R for Rotter. Yes, he had used the word not moments before, but it was always such a grey area. Mostly used as a derogatory term, by humans—usually the older generation—who couldn’t get their small, little brains around the reality of the world today, it had become increasingly popular over the past couple of years. Now, it was just accepted. Like everything else this day and age.

“Correct.” He continued to smile. If he noticed your slip-up he didn’t care to mention it. “This may be TMI but mine’s only recently appeared again.” Something squeezed in your gut. “A few months ago. Maybe longer. I don’t know. With work and the stress I think I ignored it for longer than I should have.”

“Oh.” That was… Yes, it was fact all sexual desire left when first turned. Most for a couple of months, maybe a little longer. You didn’t know the ins and outs, but three years seemed steep. He was a busy man, it made sense, but… Fuck. Who were you kidding? You were just distracting yourself with nonsense now. Anything to not have to acknowledge what was really going on here. But you had to. “Not to be rude Mr. Kim, but why are you telling me this?”

No one, and you mean no one, called him by his first name. Not anyone you knew anyway. It was easy to see him as none other than Seokjin, your Seokjin, now thinking back, but a few months ago he was just your boss with the intimating aura. The one who wouldn’t dare be interested in you. That all changed that fateful night.

His lips curled. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to be friendly or if he was greatly amused. Maybe both. “Seokjin. Call me Seokjin.”

You swallowed. His name felt foreign on your tongue, but you needed to press on. You needed him to confirm the hunch now coiled in your chest. “Seokjin, why are you telling this?”

A beat of silence followed. He actually glanced away from you as he went to speak. “I’m incredibly attracted to you.” You let out a shaky breath, unsure you could say anything back even if you tried. He chuckled awkwardly. Such a human reaction. You found your heart warming. “Forgive me. I’m rusty at this.”

He sounded way out of his depth, which was incredibly amusing for someone like him. You wondered how long he had been thinking of confessing this. How long he’d been trying… He’d taken his chance tonight.

“You’ve noticed me staring a lot?” His eyes were back on you now. You didn’t know if you were imagining it, but the harshness of the grey had begun to soften. The coldness, warming up.

“Yes,” you murmured. Your throat felt dry. You wouldn’t have described it as staring, but to say you hadn’t noticed would be an outright lie.

“I just can’t take my eyes off you,” he admitted with a slight sigh. “I love watching you dance because it’s the only form of interaction I have with you.” Without realising, you squeezed your legs together. Your face was flushing, you could feel the heat prickle your skin.

“My view gets obstructed a lot of the time, or my attention is needed elsewhere but I always try...” He cleared his throat. “I always try to admire you.”

His words bloomed against your skin, sending a warmth all over you. Call you weak, it didn’t matter. An attractive man was complimenting you. You did not question him. He was short and to the point with his words. No sugar-coating. You admired that.

You smirked his way, confidence washing over you. In a way, you felt like you had the upper hand here. He was the one who had confessed in uncertainty. “You should get better seats for the show.”

His eyes widened a little in shock at your brazenness. You’d surprised him, and his mouth stretched into a grin, a bewildered laugh leaving him as his browline furrowed. It was a glorious sound. “I really don’t scare you? Disgust you?”

“Of course not.” You replied so surely it would be difficult to doubt you. Maybe you were stupid. Maybe this was all part of his masterplan, but there was a small self-destructive part of you that didn’t even care. “Would I be working here otherwise?”

“You got me there,” he silked. Gaze holding yours.

The most deepest of desires began to come alive inside of you. Swirling around in your gut. Desires you’d held at bay because it was laughable to think you’d ever be in with a chance with someone like him. And perhaps a larger part of you was ashamed by your longings. Kim Seokjin was a bad person by definition. It didn’t matter how charming he was. How potentially misunderstood he was, or how secretly sensitive he was. Romanticised theories that should make you sick at yourself. This was wrong, a small voice whispered furiously in the back of your head, but when had that ever stopped you?

You hesitated but went for it anyway. It was too late. You’d made your decision. “If we’re confessing things... You’re way too pretty to be as dangerous as you are.” Half a glass of wine and you were already losing yourself.

He cocked a black, perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Pretty? That’s a new one.” He chuckled quietly before making a joke. “These genes come from my mom.” Such a normal thing to say. You wanted to believe he was just like anyone else. Or maybe you truly didn’t care…

“Mr. K–Seokjin,” you corrected yourself quickly. The concept of being on first name terms would take a while to get used to. You took a breath and went for it, fingers reaching for his hand that held his whiskey. What did you have to lose? His lust for you was real. The ball was in your court.

You circled patterns against the skin between his thumb and index finger. It was stone cold. A sensation you were still not too used to, or maybe it was because this touch meant so much more. Despite the ice, he was marble smooth. You looked at his face. True beauty. He was staring right back at you, holding his breath, waiting for you. Hunger roared inside your body now. You tried your best to keep it under control.

“I know it’s out of hours and I’m not really dressed for it anymore but... I could dance for you right now if you like?”

You tilted your head to match your question. He copied, giving you a small smile, tone teasing when he spoke. Low and oddly soothing. “Private dances aren’t allowed.”

“You’re the boss. You make the rules.” You watched him hesitate, mulling your suggestion over in his head. It was actually kind of cute. Had he not expected you to accept his advances so easily?

He pulled his hand from the tumbler, his fingers gingerly reaching for yours and you clasped onto them. “Mm?” You prodded, watching him all the way. He gave you a tight nod, and that was all you needed to continue.

Rising up from your seat and leaving your purse at the foot of the stool, he followed you as you guided him by the hand to a set of centre red plush sofas. They curled around a small table, in perfect view of the largest stage. Not two hours ago this place had been filled to the brim, this section worth a hell of a lot of money considering where it was placed, but now his club was empty, safe for you and him. The reminder sent a thrill up you.

You slowly pushed him down to sit, hand on his chest before you let go and stood over him. A grin on your face. “Best seat in the house. No obstructed view.”

He didn’t reply, but the look on his face was almost giddy. You spun on your feet, back to him as you slinked away, towards the centre pole, kicking off your shoes. You didn’t get much of a chance to dance with it, this place saved for the ones who had been here longer. So this was an added excitement.

“This would be highly unprofessional in business hours,” he called after you. His laughter fizzling off when you began to lift your sweater over your head. “What are you doing?”

You turned back to him, a shy smile on your face. “I can’t entertain you in this.” You threw the mustard knit to the floor. “Will it do?”

He scoffed. Eyes a little wide, pupils starting to blow out. “You could be in anything. I wouldn’t mind.”

You appreciated the sentiment, but you didn’t know if you agreed. You’d removed the showy lingerie you’d been wearing tonight in favour of something more comfortable; a black cotton bralette, and you still had your leggings on as you gripped the pole with both hands. It wasn’t your best outfit, but you hoped it sufficed.

How odd it was to swing and grind in front of your boss. A man you hadn’t had anything to do with until tonight. Dancing to no music was strange, too. You had to imagine the beats and sounds in your head, praying you didn’t look too wooden, but somehow it began to feel increasingly intimate. Seokjin was a silent spectator, but it didn’t bring you a sense of unease. Excitement coursed through your veins, but you didn’t dare look at him while you moved. This was a reality you still couldn’t get your head around.

You didn’t know how long you were at it for, lost to the soundless rhythm, but soon enough you needed to catch your breath. He was still sat where you placed him but his eyes were fully black now, trained on your figure. As if in a trance It took a moment for him to notice you had stopped. His legs were spread open, giving you a very great eyeful of his crotch. A couple of buttons on his dress shirt lied open that weren’t before. It gave him an almost bedraggled look. You say almost, because his hair was still perfectly parted at his forehead. You suddenly had the mental image of your fingers running through it, tugging at the ends as he fucked you into the very sofa he sat on. You blinked away the dirty thought, taking a few deep breaths.

He also blinked, albeit slowly, outstretching one hand to beckon you. “Come here.” He croaked; voice thick with something that made you burn up.

You smirked. “That’s against the rules.” Private dances were strictly forbidden.

“Am I not the boss?” That was so. You laughed, and obeyed instantly, descending the metal steps to make your way to him. “You move exquisitely,” he complimented as you did so. His voice a little more human now. His eyes however, were anything but. Close now, inches apart, you saw the light grey that ringed the dilated pupils. It made him look unreal. Showed him for he really was. Undead. However, fear was the last thing on your mind.

“Can I touch you?”

“I thought you made the rules?” This back and fore only thickened the desire in the room, but you truly did appreciate his manners. That, and you really wanted him to touch you. You wanted to touch him too.

Straddling him slowly, your knees pressing into the soft velvet of the sofa, his cold hands met your waist and you jumped in shock, giggling in reaction. He did nothing but hold on as you attempted to dance atop of him. You say attempted, because you were basically grinding on him by now. You wrapped your arms around his neck, loving the way his breathing was laboured. Chest rising and falling visibly.

You felt his erection quickly begin to from under you, and it wasn’t long before he acknowledged it. In his own way, of course. “Forgive me for being inappropriate.” He apologised in advance. You held your breath in curiosity. “But have you ever fucked a rotter?”

With a lack of oxygen you replied instantly. “No.”

He swallowed. His dick twitched in his expensive slacks. “Are you opposed to it?”

You replied with only truth, confidence and desire. “Not if you’re the one in question.”

The noise that tore from his throat was nothing you’d ever heard before. A man starved, finally given the chance of relief. He flew at your mouth, movements hasty and rough. You gladly matched them. Everything was cold, something you weren’t used to at all. Not like this anyway. His tongue like ice ran along your own, both wet but drastic in temperature. It was a contrast that sent your nerves into overdrive. Sensitivity at its highest peak. You clung to his shoulders, rolling your palms over the thick flesh and muscle, as you moaned quite shamelessly into his mouth.

His hands found your face, gripping you tight as he continued to kiss you furiously. You were close to burning up, heart pounding in your chest at your new reality. A groan from him puzzled your mind as he tore away. “Not here. Not yet,” he rasped, lips wet because of you. He tried to keep him distance but failed, falling into your mouth once again to taste you. “I won’t fuck you in a place like this. You deserve better than that.”

You clung to him now, deflation beginning to drop to your gut. You were riled up, ready for him, he couldn’t take it away now. Not when he was solid between your spread legs. You gasped when he took your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging it carefully. Everyone knew the dangers of a zombies’ teeth. One false move and it was game over. The risk just seemed to turn you on all the more. You were sick. Sick for him.

“But I want you so bad. I want to make you feel all the pleasure in the world,” he divulged. He sounded so passionate, so desperate, fresh waves of longing and need flooded your body. Heat pooled against his cock. “Will you let me do that right now? Just a little bit?”

“Yes,” you practically exclaimed. Overcome and out of breath. You didn’t know what that request pertained but you would take anything for even the slightest bit of relief.

You had a better understanding once you found yourself under his large, solid body. Spread out on the velvet like your tainted mind had imagined not fifteen minutes previous. He kissed down your neck, lapping at the skin like you could fill him up. A sensation that had your eyes closing, feeling powerless but loving it. Even more so when you felt him between your breasts. It was a wonderful fusion; to be boiling hot but feel his cool, marble touch all over your body. His hands roamed you, familiarising himself with the woman’s body. Every bump, curve and dip, your soft moans encouraging him, until he couldn’t take anymore.

You pulsed when you felt his long fingers curl behind the waistband of your leggings. “Can I take these off?” He looked you straight in the eyes as he spoke, as if he was reading your face for any hesitation. There was none. You nodded firmly, a trembled ‘yes’ leaving your throat.

He pulled you forward in one swift motion, propping you up against the plush backrests. He was out of breath, jaw slack and eyes still practically black as he crouched, beginning to tug down the black fabric, your legs thrown over one of his shoulders. You didn’t realise he’d strip you of your underwear too. You were very naked, very quickly. Your bra the only thing left.

“Beautiful.” He uttered, eyes between your legs before he looked up at you. “You’re beautiful.”

You smiled at him, something he couldn’t seem to be able to bear, because he was on your mouth again in a flash. He kissed you greedily, low moans escaping him in regular sequence. Spoiled, he made his way down your chest, finding the swell of your breasts to flirt between. It wasn’t long before the fabric was pulled down, one nipple in his mouth while he rubbed the other with the pad of his thumb. That had you moaning, your legs wrapping around his hips to keep him latched to you. Cramped on the sofa, cramped under his body, but loving it. Pleasure swirled and grew heavy in your stomach. Arousal beginning to pool between your legs. It wasn’t long before you were grinding yourself against his body uncontrollably, desperate for some relief down south.

He pulled away when you began whining, teeth lightly grazing the flushed peak as he went. You gasped. Maybe it really was the danger that turned you wanton. Seokjin grinned your way as he sunk to his knees on the floor. He knew it too. He was already learning. You watched with bated breath as he spread your legs, giving him a very intimate view. You’d be self-conscious by now, maybe even uncomfortable, but not tonight. Not with him.

You pulsed against his thumb as he touched you, and all you could do was watch as he carefully began to rub at your clitoris, feeling it engorge beneath his cold touch. You moaned softly, hips circling ever so slightly, enjoying the almost cruel pleasure. Your arousal spread, wet noises squelching under his skin, lewd in your ears.

He looked up at you, eyes black, ringed silver grey. They made you shiver. So did his words. “Can I taste you?” His hair had become out of place, finally, falling in his eyes, and you reached for it, running the white and black strands through your fingers before nodding.

He dived straight in, those plump, almost blue-red lips encompassing your clit. You gasped as he sucked, pushing into him and clutching his hair in your fist. His cool tongue laved you almost hesitantly at first, searching for what you liked and what made you moan, until he grew confidence. You forgot he was familiarising himself again after so long. Hazy with lust, his movements weren’t calculated. They were made with haste and a fervent urge; hands wrapping around the underside of your thighs to hold them and pull you closer. Letting him feast until his heart content.

He only pulled away to catch his breath, minutes later, face from the nose down shining with a colourless substance. The same substance coated the heat between your legs and apex of your thighs. Probably stained the sofas too. You were sticky and burning up. Not even the the touch of his cool finger could control it as he ran the digit down your folds. He stopped at your entrance, tip pushing in slowly. You throbbed around nothing, desperate to be filled. He noticed of course, and he made to remove his rings.

You stopped him. “Keep them on.” You’d already felt the cool metal of his rings against the inside of your thigh when he’d been enamoured with your centre and everything it had to offer. You wanted more. A hell of a lot more.

He raised his brows in surprise, pausing before shrugging. “Anything for you.” You tried to suppress your moan as he pushed his index finger inside you, palm up, cold metal pressed against your swollen folds. He shifted closer, curling the digit against your velvet-like walls. He seemed to like the feeling, humming to himself, before he studied your face closely. “When was the last time someone had you like this?”

You cocked an eyebrow, smirking. “What? Like this specifically? In this bar, spread out naked on the VIP suite? Never.”

He gave a low chuckle. It shot through your body. “You think you’re funny.” You tried snarking him back but he slipped a second finger inside you, straightening them as he went. “No but,” he began, slowing thrusting them in and out. Your jaw grew slack as you watched him, the quietest of strained moans leaving you. “I just want to know how many people I have to contend with.”

That made you laugh. But fine, if he was so curious. “It’s been a while. Nearly a year.” You’d been single since then, your last relationship ending badly, and hook up culture wasn’t what it was since the virus. You smirked his way. “So, no one at all.”

“That’s great for me then.” He laughed heartily, almost as if he wasn’t three knuckles deeps inside you, and wasting no time getting intimate between your legs again.

You came hard. Shaking all over when he finally relented his tongue. Covered in a sheen of sweat and out of breath. He continued the movement of his fingers at his leisure, looking up between your body. The tips of his hair were wet and clung together. It wasn’t him—the undead incapable of sweating—but your arousal, which he seemed to be unable to get enough of. In all honesty, it seemed it he was unable to get enough of you full stop. Still determined to please you.

He shot his fingers deep, ripping a moan from your chest as your back curled. “You’re still sucking me in. What a greedy cunt you have.” Your burned at his crude words, squeezing around his fingers. “Do you consider yourself greedy?” He spoke low and calm, but you could hear the slight quiver to his voice. It made you feel powerful. You hated that word. Greed. But for him… It was different.

“If it’s for a pleasure like that, then yes,” you laughed breathlessly.

He tutted, curling his fingers along the ridges of your insides. Coaxing you. Enjoying the way your lower body contorted. “You flatter me. I would say I’ve reverted to novice status again after all these years.”

You didn’t think so. Unless that was the reality of someone like Kim Seokjin between your legs. He got you coming so good, better than you had in a long time, so maybe it was both options shared. “Somethings you never forget,” you told him simply.

He didn’t reply, instead rising up, kneeling on the edge of the sofa instead. You lifted your legs to accommodate him. His fingers got deeper and you tightened around them again. “I’m greedy too, you know?” He almost warned, his free hand gripping the back of your neck to tilt your head. Ice. He was speaking as he held his breath, moaning slightly when you did. “I want you to cum again. Please.” He always remembered his manners, even when impatient.

You faltered. You didn’t know if you could. Yes, it still felt good to have him inside of you, but you were too exhausted to go again surely. He leant over your body, caging you with his solid one as he murmured into your ear. “I want the visual ingrained in my mind forever.” He snapped his wrist hard against you. The pleasure made your eyes roll back.

“O-kay–!” You gasped out, nodding your head eagerly, gripping onto his shoulders. It was a big fuck you to the exhaustion. You wanted to cum again too.

Your body withstood his vicious pace, walls clamping down on him every time he thrusted into you. You were hot and sweaty again, held down by his large build, which only added to your delight. You imagined he was fucking you. Desperate for the real thing.

“You trust me a lot,” he mused, your hands in his hair now. It was surprising to you that he let you touch it like this. You looked at him curiously, wondering what he could mean, and felt his movements slow. You realised just how hard you’d been holding your breath, gasping for it at the tiniest of reprieve. “One accidental scratch and that’s it, game over. You’re one of me.” He spoke in an almost disarming whisper. It did not frighten you.

You moaned at the dragging of his fingers, before smiling lazily. “You’re not so foolish.” You’d already taken note that his fingernails were perfectly trimmed when you’d admired his hands at the bar.

“Maybe not. But in other ways…” he drawled off, lips millimetres from yours. You wanted him to kiss you so bad. “I enjoyed being a fool between your legs. On my knees…” You moaned softly, enjoying his words, eyes still glued to his mouth. It moved away; your chest grew heavy in disappointment.

“Would you get on your knees for me?”

His question had you squeezing again. The smirk told you he felt it. “Right now?” You asked, maybe a little too eager.

“No.” He laughed. “Not right now. Tonight is about you. But next time...”

You took a shaky breath and nodded. “Gladly.”

“Good girl,” he smiled at you. The praise went to your head, somewhere else too, and he let go of your neck, readjusting himself to begin picking up the pace again. You watched down your body, lifting your folded legs nearer your chest so you could have a better look at his hand as it pleasured you. His veiny forearm tensing with the force of his thrusts. You were so wet you glistened in the overhead lighting—so did the dark jewel on one of his rings—and you squelched noisily around his fingers, sucking him in over and over again. Greedy, you were.

“Fuck.” Seokjin cursed under his breath, distracting you, and you found his eyes were locked between your legs too. Mesmerised. “Delectable, as ripe as a peach…” It didn’t take you much longer to cum again. You felt sorry to whoever would sit in the VIP lounge tomorrow night.

Afterwards, once you’d both calmed down—you, dressed but still quite shaky, and he, now composed but hair still in disarray—he asked if you’d accompany him for dinner at his house next time he was free. You agreed quite instantly. You knew what it meant, and you needed it. Needed him. You also agreed when he insisted he’d arrange for a car to take you home that night. You had your own, but you’d had something to drink, regardless how small, and that just didn’t sit right with him. He’d get someone to drop off your vehicle the next morning.

Before you left, he bid you goodnight with a kiss to the cheek and thanked you for a lovely night, emphasising just how much he was looking forward to dinner with you soon. Just the thought had you up for hours when you found yourself in bed, alone, but still warm and sated from your two orgasms.

Seokjin’s house was stunning. A far cry from from your dingy apartment on the tenth floor of an ancient tower block. You were used to it now, but back then you had felt very out of place in such a beautiful home. He arranged for a car to pick you up, very much like the one that had dropped you off home four nights ago. A sleek black thing, with darkened windows. You didn’t know the name, a car was a car, but again, way out of your league. Four days was a short time in someone else’s perspective, but to you it had dragged by. Especially having to see him every night since while you danced in the club. Glances and knowing smirks just made it harder. You understood though, he was a busy man. He called you in the morning, apologising for the short notice, but he’d found a break in his schedule. If you agreed not to be at the club tonight, he could arrange dinner at his place.

You hadn’t hesitated. Had been preparing all day. The longest soak in the bath you could manage without turning into udon. You even brought the wax strips out. Found the most elegant dress you owned in the back of your closet. A blood red, floor length piece.

His phone call had felt very formal, but that was him all over, you had only just started finding out. You weren’t 100% sure, but the 0.1% didn’t matter… You were going to have sex together tonight. The thought made you giddy. It was only the shock of his house that distracted you as you stepped inside. Large and elegantly decorated, it did not look at all like you’d imagined. Not that you’d tried to. It was impossible to wonder what an undead mobster’s home would look like, but as a bachelor, it definitely wasn’t this. It almost seemed lonely to have just one person living here. You kept those thoughts to yourself though and let him lead you into the lounge, where, and you assumed this, a butler of some kind handed you a glass of champagne. This was not your world.

He even had members of staff to cook for him. Food you knew for a fact belonged in michelin starred restaurants. His dining room was grand, the beautifully carved mahogany table able to fit six people. Perhaps this place was once his family home. It made sense. He sat at the head, while you were placed directly opposite him. The distance was a little unnerving, but he was able to converse in small talk exceptionally well. It was lighthearted and casual, and soon eased you up.

You found it intriguing when he doused everything he ate in hot sauce, unable to stop yourself from giggling and he looked up, confusion etched in his features before he realised what had amused you so. You had no idea the need was that bad.

“Nothing tastes good without a little kick,” he explained, putting the bottle down. “Even the brains.”

You laughed. “You must go through hot sauce by the gallon.”

He smiled before reaching for his glass of red wine. “Me being a rotter really doesn’t phase you, does it?” He still seemed to be unable to get over the surprise.

You gave him a small shrug, picking up your cutlery. “It’s the world we live in now.” You sounded like a broken record. That was your explanation for everything.

You waited for him to continue the conversation. There was a pause and then– “Thanks to your father.”

You froze, an instant sense of dread filling you at the casual remark. You swallowed, looking across at Seokjin. “H-how did you know?”

He raised a perfect eyebrow as he brought the glass to his mouth. You watched half the red liquid disappear. The clank as he put it down on the wood made you flinch, and your heart thudded as you waited for his reply. He gave you smile. It didn’t seem fully loaded. “Is that you undermining my power?”

Whatever his intentions were you panicked regardless. “No, I just–”

“Don’t worry, this isn’t some kind of trick. Some kind of revenge...” He interrupted with a quick chuckle. Relief flooded you. Not that you had thought such things explicitly, but Seokjin was the man he was… Your lust hadn’t made you forget that much. He had found out what you’d spent the last three years or so trying to hide after all…

“I have brought you here to fuck.” Despite your alarm, something squeezed in your gut and pulsed between your legs at his frankness. “I’m just curious... You hide it well. Why?”

Unsure what to do, you took a mouthful of food. The chewing letting you think for a moment. Did you really want to divulge your family affairs with him? He was a man of few words and considering what he was—dangerous and undead—you couldn’t be sure to trust his intentions. Maybe you’d made a mistake coming here. Letting his words and actions cajole you.

“Good?” He asked, watching you eat.

You looked at him and nodded. Wiping your face with the napkin placed on your lap you decided to give him some of the details. Not all. “It’s not something I want to be associated with.”

Seokjin frowned. “You don’t agree?”

You shook your head. That had come out wrong. “I don’t agree with my parents’ greed.”

When the zombie virus had hit four years ago your father, a highly gifted scientist, had been one of the first to try and recreate it. To produce something better. For what, you didn’t quite understand. He had no desire to turn himself or his family. No, you guessed it was for the fame, the money…the glory… In the end, it took a number of people to create such a thing, but yes, he’d been one of them… Your mother had been so proud. Sick. That was still what you thought now. Turning the world into undead creatures who needed human brains to survive seemed utterly bizarre. Disturbing… But like you said, the glory seemed to be their fuel…

You hadn’t spoke to either of them in two years and prior to that, conversations were few and far between. To cut them out of your life hadn’t been a sudden decision though. Your whole life you’d always felt like you didn’t belong. Born to the wrong family. Maybe that was a problem with you. An issue you didn’t want to give much thought about, but one thing was for certain, you didn’t think anything like them. You’d spend most of your life rebelling. Maybe you were still doing so… The club you worked at would see them foaming at the mouth. You, surrounded by the people your father helped create. And Seokjin… Seokjin was a man your parents would be horrified to see you with. That thought brought you great pleasure.

“You don’t get along?” You shook you head in reply. Surprisingly it was enough for him. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” Or maybe he already knew that… He probably knew everything about you. He’d been humouring you all this time. For some reason that didn’t scare you like it should’ve. It was quite reassuring to know that despite everything, you were the one he wanted. Maybe your self esteem was shot to pieces. Maybe you were just an idiot.

You smiled. “Thanks.”

He jerked his head towards the direction of your plate. “Let’s not get distracted for too long. Dinner is getting cold.”

You ate with more small talk. He asked if you’d ever been out the country and when you’d replied yes, he insisted that you tell him all about Japan, like he’d never been there before. Maybe he hadn’t… You didn’t ask. In all honestly, you were positive he was trying his best to relax you again after his slight interrogation. It was endearing.

Once dinner was done and his staff had taken the used dishes away, you suddenly remembered what was to come next. You began to feel a little out of your depth. The night at the club had happened out of the blue, but this was pre-planned. Nerves itched at your skin, just wondering how this would go down now, but that didn’t mean you weren’t excited. Giddy.

“You really do look so beautiful tonight.” He praised quietly, admiring you from across the table. He had already told you that when he’d greeted you at his door, but you would never get enough. “I feel a little underdressed.”

You scoffed. “You look perfect. As always.” He was always found in a suit, so his attire for tonight was nothing new. Apart from the velvet suit jacket he wore. It was fancy, something you could never imagine him gracing the club with, and the cream embroidered shirt underneath suited him beautifully. His hair tonight was swept above his forehead, accentuating his breath-taking bone structure.

He closed his eyes as he smiled in silent thanks. When they opened you noticed they were getting darker, grey almost unnoticeable from where you sat. You suddenly thought about him between your legs. You squeezed them together under the table, trying to quell your dirty thoughts. You think he noticed, or maybe he was remembering back too.

“I’m surprised you can’t feel it,” he mused on cue.

“Feel what?” You sounded slightly shaky. Out of breath.

“My need for you is practically raging from my body,” he explained simply.

Something heavy dropped into your gut. Confidence began to wash over you again. It was nice to feel this powerful. “You hide it well.”

“Do I?” He laughed. “I must have more self control than I give myself credit for. I’ve been agitated ever since that night… Unable to stop imagining getting my hands on you again.”

You let out a tremble of a breath. More images flew around the forefront of your mind. The coldness of his hands caressing your body. The ice of his tongue inside your mouth, against your skin, laving against your… You closed your eyes, unable to cope. He murmured your name softly. As if he was desperate for you to look his way again. You obeyed. “I’m so incredibly attracted to you.”

You could hear your heart thudding against your ribcage. It almost felt strange, like it didn’t belong to you. When you chuckled, it didn’t sound like you either. Your lust for him was taking over. Time was nearing. “You already said, Seokjin.” You liked the sound of his name as it curled off your tongue.

He chuckled back. “Am I boring you? I thought flattery would be first protocol.”

You continued to laugh at his choice of words, shaking your head. “There’s no need. I’m here, aren’t I?”

He held your stare. It was almost like he was staring inside of you. “That you are.” He sounded like he still couldn’t believe his luck. He rolled his shoulders. “Well. I can still say what I like. It’s all true. I’m not trying to manipulate you here.” You chose to believe him. “Although... You don’t look like someone who falls victim to such things.” You shrugged, playing it casual. Maybe he was correct. You’d long stopped giving men the power to get inside your mind. You hoped it would hold with Seokjin.

“I’ll cut to the chase then.” He continued, realising you weren’t going to divulge anything that could confirm his assumptions. “One night won’t be enough. I want to enter a sexual relationship with you.”

Your eyes widened. Surprise visible on your face no doubt. Call you naïve, maybe clueless, but that possibility hadn’t crossed your mind. A one off was all you’d imagined. Seokjin had thirsted after you for months now, it seemed. Until he couldn’t ignore it any longer. In your head, one night would have been enough for him. What was so special about you? It seemed ludicrous he’d want something permanent. Taken aback, all you could do was listen to him.

“These,” he paused, “urges I have, they’ve been suppressed for far too long. I have curiosities. Maybe they’ve always been there, morphing with the passing months...years.” He shrugged, and you wondered why he had stifled himself for so long. You also wondered why you. Why were you so special? “It wasn’t until I noticed you that these thoughts...fantasies, became unbearable.”

You took his words like they were information at a business meeting. In fact, he was talking to you like such. It was strange. He was talking about imagining fucking you most probably, and here you were just nodding your head. You squeezed your legs under the table again. You were hot. Your excitement was building again and you were trying your best to control yourself. This wasn’t normal. You shouldn’t be here, but your desire for him seemed to have crept up and snaked its way around your throat.

“I don’t want to overwhelm you but I need things to be in black and white.”

“I understand.”

“You do?” He raised both eyebrows in surprise. You felt powerful with the knowledge you kept proving him wrong. “Your pleasure is my utmost importance. All of my fantasies include you enjoying yourself. Rest assured. However,” he looked down at the table. Was he flustered? Feeling awkward? How unusual. “There are some things I want to indulge in that aren’t to everyone’s taste. I do not wish to trap or force you into anything. If you don’t agree, then that’s that. No hard feelings. This isn’t a sweet or romantic joining. I don’t know if I’m truly capable of that…”

You puzzled in your head. What an odd thing to say. You hadn’t so much as thought about this being anything about romance. You knew where you stood. You hoped he wasn’t assuming that’s what you thought. You’d given up on love and romance a long fucking time ago. “I don’t expect it to be,” you added, wanting it to be clear.

He paused, smiled slightly and then chucked. “Then you understand I have this animalistic need to take you any which way I’m allowed.” He made sure your eyes were locked when he spoke. So he could see your reaction. It was hard tying to keep your expression neutral as you imagined just as he’d said. The corner of your mouth definitely twitched. Of course he saw. You could tell by the way he tried to suppress his smirk.

“I can be patient if you need more time.” He continued. “I am very much insistent that it’s you—there is no one else—however, if you disagree or discover I bring you no joy, I expect one day I’ll find another.” You admired his honesty. “Also. Selfish of me I know, but if you agree then there must be no other sexual partners during our attachment. Please.” “Seokjin...” You began, guessing he’d finished his proposition of sorts.

“I know.” He interrupted before you could say anything. “This is a lot to take in. You’re overwhelmed.”

“No,” you insisted. “I agree. I’m willing to give this a chance.”

He let your words marinate before swallowing. “What I’ve said doesn’t scare you?”

You scoffed. “No.” You’d already knew sex with him wouldn’t be conventional. You’d found that out from his very brazen attitude and mouth the night you were spread against the club’s VIP sofa. Your only mistake had been thinking it would be just once. You felt giddy knowing there would now be endless encounters. You craved him just like he craved you. It was a new sensation, something that had only been been simmering since you caught his eyes on you as you danced, but it was powerful and steadfast, and needed to be sated. Tonight.

He nodded to himself, seemingly deciding then and there to start taking action. “We’ll take it slow. Learn from one another.”

“That sounds good,” you agreed, unconsciously sitting up straighter, leaning in almost eagerly.

“Tonight,” he hushed. “Tonight I just want to feel you. Pleasure you. To become accustomed with your body and what you like.”

You let out a shaky breath. You could almost feel the impending pleasure running through your veins. You’d had a taste of it a few nights ago. “I feel very much the same. Tonight is just the beginning.”

He exhaled through his nose, jaw tensed before he looked you straight in the eyes. Raising his hand he beckoned you. “Come.” You were beginning to see a pattern, and just like that you obeyed. His tastes were of the dominate kind. You would gladly listen.

Rounding the corner you made your way over and stopped right in front of him. He scraped his chair back, making room between him and the table, and motioned you to slot in between.

“When you said you’d get on your knees for me…” He reminded you. A suggestion of sorts. Maybe it was put that way to soften the order.

Your eyes widened, looking at the door that lead into the kitchen. “Here?”

“Don’t worry.” He smiled, taking your hands. “No one will will come in. They shall be leaving soon anyway. They won’t interrupt us.”

You listened, finding yourself in his lap, dress crumpled around your middle, creasing to no end, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Not when you could feel his erection pressing into you. You took initiative. Rising up to let your palm caress him. You’d been dying to get your hands on him ever since the night at the club. To feel him full and thick and long between your fist, in your mouth, in your– You reached to kiss him. He slipped his tongue inside your mouth like he’d been waiting for it, grunting when you gave his dick one quick squeeze.

“Seokjin,” you breathed, lips sticky as you pulled away. “Forgive my manners. I never confessed my attraction towards you too the other night.” It was easy to let him do all the talking, but you wanted to let him know you were 100% into this because you wanted him too. It didn’t go one way. You weren’t just agreeing to this for the hell of it.

He reached for your face, rubbing the apples of your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “No need to flatter me,” he smiled, dropping one thumb to the edge of your mouth. He tugged your bottom lip down slightly and met the tip of your tongue. “I guess my tongue did the persuading, mm?”

You swiped across the cool flesh and pulled away with a grin. “Trust me, if there was no attraction that wouldn’t have happened.”

He laughed, genuinely amused, before grabbing you by the hips, pulling you into his chest. “Enough chit chat. I thought you were supposed to be sucking my dick?”

Just like the rest of him, his cock was cool. Something you had never experienced before. It was swollen, filled with blood, but ice cold. Impossible, yet here you were. Knelt between his spread legs, laving him against your tongue. You had the intense urge to please him as best you could. Show him what he’d been missing all this time and just worship the beautiful, pretty gift between his thighs. He seemed to be unable to get used to the hot, wet velvet of your mouth, eyes glued to you, watching every move you made with soundless gasps. His hands gripped the arms of the chair at first, knuckles purple, until he decided he couldn’t hold back any longer. Taking your hair in his fists, his rings cold against your scalp, he held on tight, finally letting himself moan when you slackened your jaw and slid him down your throat as far as you could take him.

He liked it when you choked on his dick. He froze every time, digging his fingers into your scalp. He liked when you slicked him with your fist, thumb circling the sensitive slit that pooled drops of precum all over the place. He really had fought off all sexual urges for so long it seemed. You wondered if he’d even attempted to pleasure himself? It wasn’t something you were brave enough to ask, but you were brave enough for other things…

You wanted him to experience all the pleasure he’d been missing over the years, tongue pointing and going south, licking thin but long lines up and across his scrotum. He gasped, the noise choking in his throat as he jerked, chair legs screeching against the tiled floor. You shuffled closer on your knees, holding his cock tall in your hand so you could slowly suck one of his balls into your mouth, softly caressing the cool encasing with your tongue. You made sure to look him in the eyes as you did so, feeding of the reactions he gave you. His mouth fallen open in a soundless groan.

You smirked as you pulled away, pleased with yourself, and began kissing up his length, swirling your tongue across the cool marble, pressing your plush lips in the flesh; getting him obscenely wet. His fingers found their way around the back of your neck, holding you firmly as you popped him back into your mouth, sucking intently on the head of his cock, your fist working the base of him, slick noises filling the air, mixed with his low, staccato moans.

When you began getting lower, hallowing your cheeks to accommodate him, your tongue tracing patterns along the underside of his thickness, his hands flew to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair to stop you. You pulled back instantly, waiting for some kind of response from him. He was close. Dangerously close. You understood that.

“I want –” He cut himself short, voice gruff, and cleared his throat, hips jumping when you kissed the tip of his cock. He tried again, taking one hand to caress your face. “I want to cum on your face.” Your legs squeezed together. Excitement overcoming you. “Please.” He added that as an afterthought, forgetting his manners with the urge to cum.

You smiled, slowly taking his hand from your cheek to guide it to the base of his cock, exchanging yours with his. He gripped himself tightly, and you squeezed your palm over his fist. Giving him permission with a sordid whisper. “Be my guest.”

You waited for it on your knees, between his spread legs and watched as he raked his beautiful hand over his equally as beautiful cock. Slowly at first, exploring the pleasure and then he sped up, jerking the top in tight, quick motions, chair legs screeching across the floor again as raised up, tightening his hold on your head to keep you in place. His breathing laboured before a strangled roar left him.

You prepared yourself, closing your eyes as you felt the first spurt hit your nose and drip down your top lip. The second flew across your left cheek. Unlike the rest of him, this substance was searing hot, shocking you so much you gasped. The third spurt, stronger, landed in your mouth. You swallowed and savoured the taste. It wasn’t over. It just kept coming, coating your face and congealing in the air, as Seokjin furiously tried to get every last drop out. Savouring the pleasure, moaning in sweet relief until he grew weak from exertion, collapsing into his seat.

You peeled your eyes open, cum glooping from your right eyebrow and onto your eyelid and watched him with awe. All that filled the dining room was his rough breaths as he tried to get a hold of himself. He ran his clean hand through his hair, strands of white falling down, and finally took a look at you. He was silent for a long time, eyes still black, the crescents of silver sending a shiver up your spine. He leaned over, pulling some of your hair behind your ear, saving it from the mess that coated your face. He looked at you with wonder and amazement in his eyes, like he was trying to retain the image of you like this forever.

When he spoke, his voice sounded different. Softer, warmer. Weaker… “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on…” Two of his fingers ran along your bottom lip, spreading some of his cum along the way. “Like this…” He awed. “It takes my breath away.”

He reached behind you, his embroidered napkin coming into view. The set was probably more expensive than your outfit. He began cleaning your face up, and you let him obediently, still kneeling on the hard floor. It was all worth it though. For him. For what was to come.

When he was done, he threw the soiled cloth to the table. There was still some cum on his fingers, where he’d rubbed your lip, and he opened your mouth, dotting your tongue with the fluid before he stuck two fingers inside, holding the muscle down before he prodded you to suck them. You did so, mimicking how you had pleasured his cock, letting your tongue trail along the expanse of his rings. He groaned, the other hand cupping your face to make you look at him. He opened his mouth, sounded beside himself. “The things I want to do to you...”

You got no sleep that night. Fucking one another until the sun began to shine through his drapes, and then some more, letting him enjoy getting familiar with the sensation again, but also feeling a pleasure like no other yourself. No man you’d ever been with had been into sex this much, and his stamina, his strength, was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. He fucked you, quite literally, to glorious, pleasure-soaked tears. Three years really hadn’t hindered his skill at all, but he blamed it on his greed, incapable of taking a compliment. Nonsense, but you soon got used to that charming personality trait…

The weeks had rolled into months, and you continued just like that. Meeting and fucking any chance you got. It was him who called the shots. He was a busy man after all. You worked to his schedule. Fucked to his schedule, and luckily for you, you were in a position to drop work every time he called. Direct permission from the boss.

True to his word, you took it slow. Going further and further each time until your body was trained to him. His was trained to you too. What he liked, how he liked it and when to do it. You knew how to read his moods and work with it each time you met up for sex. There was a mutual trust between the two of you, and you would give your all if it meant pleasing him, because it brought you pleasure too.

Sex had always been just something you’d done. The guys got their rocks off and maybe if you were lucky, you’d get one orgasm, probably gifted by your own hands. Even when in love, sex hadn’t been this enjoyable nor exciting. It was all new with Seokjin. You lived for pushing yourself to the limit, finding something new and trying it. Greedy. Maybe that was the correct word, Seokjin had been right. You were greedy for one another. You’d be dammed. The desire and the pleasure you just knew you couldn’t get from anyone else. The chemistry was on a totally different level, and it just kept getting stronger.

Seokjin did have a softer appetite though. It wasn’t all hard and extreme. That was the beauty of it. He wasn’t a one-sided dom who used you as some kind of sex toy. He was gentle and caring, even when he had you tied to his bed, blindfolded and at his mercy. Sometimes he just wanted you. Raw and passionate. An unspoken vulnerable. You think in a way, even though you would never say it to his face, he sought comfort in you. On days when he was tired or stressed, he wanted you. Only you. There was a comfort there. And you gladly obeyed. How could you not? You were flattered he chose you to share this with. Touched, in a way.

Your bond only grew, until any awkwardness was a thing of the past. You could tease one another, joke around. It was surprising at first to find out someone like him could become embarrassed and shy when provoked about certain things. Like how he had been so formal in the beginning. He insisted it was because he was so awkward about his extended inexperience fighting head to head with the raging desire he had for you… It had sent him frenzied, until he had to do something about it. You were so glad he had…

Your relationship for the most part was left undetected. It was chosen that way, to keep things strictly professional at work, but also you suspected it was something more. He requested for you not to tell your friends or family, and the only one who knew about your arrangement on his side, was the driver who took you to and from his home. Seokjin’s line of work came with danger, and even though you didn’t voice it, you guessed that danger spread to anyone he was involved with; family, friends, lovers…

You say mostly undetected because of course there had been a slip up somewhere along the line. Working in such close proximity, perhaps you had been foolish. The club was always packed, someone was bound to pick up on it, and unluckily for you, it happened. Give you a major reality check to go with it.

You had been involved with Seokjin for near to three months when it did, juggling nights at work and nights spent with him. More often than not, both at the same time. That night wasn’t one though. He was away from the club altogether, so you got changed at your usual pace, surrounded by the rest of the human girls as they chatted. That night rotter talk filled the dressing room. There had been one watching one of the girls, Jaeha, dancing. He’d taken a shine to her and asked her out for dinner at closing time. She’d agreed, but now she was getting doubts, some of the other girls laying uncertainties in her head. Of course the conversation had turned to sex. It always did where men were concerned. But this was different. They were talking about having sex with a zombie. It was times like these you were thankful there was separate dressing rooms for the human and undead girls. Although some would probably still carry on the conversation regardless.

“What about you?”

You looked up, realising that Jaeha was directing the question your way. “Hm?” You played dumb, even though you had been listening to every word of the conversation. You just didn’t want to answer.

“What would you imagine it feels like being with a rotter?”

You gave a small shrug, realising you had no choice now and turned away as you replied. “I don’t know.”

“Wait. What was that?” She exclaimed excitedly and you inwardly sighed. You guess something about your body language hadn’t been believable. “You have?!” You gave another shrug but she wasn’t having any of it. “Look me in the eyes and say you haven’t!”

You faced her again, defeated, realising you had about half a dozen other pairs of eyes looking at you too. “Fine. I have.”

A couple others squealed. Maybe it was an age thing. You were a few years older than a handful of the girls. At twenty-two you had probably been easily excitable and naïve too. Scrap that. You definitely had been.

“Who?!”

Shit. She really wasn’t going to drop this, was she? You were hoping admitting to it would have been enough. You did up your jeans as you dismissed her. “It doesn’t matter who. It’s just sex. No different.”

“No different? But they’re cold,” she whined, shuddering at the thought. “Doesn’t that feel weird?”

You opened your mouth but found yourself stuck. This conversation was making you feel uncomfortable. Thankfully, a voice came to your rescue.

“You just get used to it.” You looked to your left to see Yeeun coming into view behind

the group of girls. She’d been here nearly the longest, your age, maybe a year older. She kept herself to herself most of the time, but you guessed she wanted to put this conversation to rest. That, and maybe put you out of your misery.

Jaeha turned and opened her mouth to ask more questions, but Yeeun spoke over her. “Jaeha, just make sure to be careful if you decide to go for dinner with that guy, yeah? Undead doesn’t mean he’s inherently bad but coming to a place like this should make you think. Keep your wits about you.”

Just like she’d wanted (and you) the conversation died. Everyone left soon after that, you close behind, but Yeeun was still getting changed, distracted by her phone. You stopped by the door as an afterthought, wanting to say something to her. “Thanks,” you called, waiting for her acknowledgment.

She slowly turned and smiled. “No problem.” You watched as she shoved her cell into her jacket pocket. “Um, you got a minute?”

You nodded, unable to guess what she wanted. She sighed, almost like she was psyching herself up. “First, this isn’t me trying to get up all in your business, alright?” You nodded again, slower this time. A sicky feeling in your stomach. “Everyone else may be clueless when it comes to who you’re fucking, but I’m not.”

You tensed. Maybe you’d misinterpreted her motives. She was trying to put you out of your misery yes, but it ran deeper than that. She was trying to save your skin. She knew. How? You were always careful to never talk in public with Seokjin. Yet… maybe your reluctance to leave early like you used to do roused suspicion from her. Maybe she’d seen you both leave together… Foolish. You panicked, played stupid. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She stared at you, calling your bluff. “Be careful, okay? You’re an adult, you can do whatever the hell you like, but just don’t forget who he is.” You kept quiet. There was no point denying it. “And I’m not on about him being undead. He’s...” She hesitated before deciding to go for it. “Just don’t forget he’s responsible for a lot of this city’s darkness.”

Unexplainable anger filled you. You didn’t like being judged, but more than that, the idea of someone judging Seokjin made your blood boil. She didn’t know him like you did. How kind he was when you were alone, how gentle… He wasn’t what people described him as behind closed doors. But what was the point? You knew you couldn’t tell her that. She’d just laugh at you, tell you how deluded you were. Maybe that’s what you were scared of... That you really were deluded. In over your head…

You watched her shrug on her jacket, her mind at ease now that she’d warned you. “You don’t have a problem working in his club though?”

She froze before pulling out a cigarette from her pocket and chuckling. “It’s money, babe.” She placed the rolled tube in between her lips and spoke through it. “We all need it, and at the end of the day, I’m not the one fucking him.” She finished with a casual shrug. As if she had no worries. You had plenty.

You swallowed, careful to keep your voice steady. “Well thanks for your concern. I’ll bear it in mind.” And the you left, wiping away a stray tear from your left eye.

You didn’t tell Seokjin about what happened that night, certain that Yeeun didn’t care enough to tell anyone. She wasn’t like that, hated gossip like you. You were also worried that if he found out, he’d do something. You didn’t want her to get fired. She said she’d needed the money after all. Maybe your worry went even further than that… You didn’t know. If Seokjin was as bad as everyone seemed to think, you really didn’t know…

So you kept it to yourself. But you couldn’t shake the exchange. Seokjin noticed there was something wrong with you instantly. You saw him two nights afterwards, seeking distraction in the only way you knew with him. Sex. He was tired after his “business trip” and you went along with it, using it as a way to explain your unusual behaviour, so the sex was quick but indulgent. Definitely needed. You clung to him because you’d missed him. You clung to him because you were beside yourself. Torn and unable to truly feel fine. You’d thought being reunited again would reassure you. But it didn’t.

“Smoking again?” You asked him after you were done, watching him reach for the pack of cigarettes he kept on the nightstand.

He chuckled, knowing you hated the dirty habit. The addiction. Maybe in a way you were a hypocrite. “My insides are rotten anyway. What can it do to me?” He was correct you supposed. Rotten to the core. He was untouchable.

However, to your surprise he put them back, wrapping his arm around you like it had been. Your head on his chest, protected from the chill by a fur blanket. His temperature always seemed to get you after sex, your own levelling out. Plus with the winter months now it was harder. He wasn’t the best to cuddle with after sex, an activity that seemed to be happening more often, so you had to separate your bodies with warmth. You let silence spread over you both, lost in your own head with a whirlwind of thoughts.

“Hey,” he prodded gently after a little while, wanting you to look at him. “You’re lying to me. You’re not tired.” You didn’t bother to deny it. He sounded hesitant when he carried on. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

You stayed silent for a moment. unsure how to begin, but you knew you couldn’t continue like this. You needed some type of reassurance from his mouth. Selfishly, you needed your conscience eased. You explained with a question, at least you hoped you did. “Do you like being who you are?”

Seokjin tensed under you, his expression becoming guarded and you instantly feared you’d crossed a line. He knew you were referring to his status, not his being. Something pretty much off limits. Discussed vaguely in the beginning, your joining was never about that. Now it seemed like a forbidden subject. You understood Seokjin saw you as an escape. He didn’t want to discuss work, and you didn’t want to hear it. Yet, it was looming over you, like an ominous presence. You needed something. You could live with who he was if he was as unsure of it as you were. You were positive. He just needed to be honest with you.

You waited patiently, and just as you resigned yourself to stone cold silence, he spoke.

“It was handed to me. I don’t particularly have a choice. It’s all I’ve ever known.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that was bitterness in his tone. “My father is frail now. I don’t know how long he has left. I want to make him proud, regardless of how stupid it sounds. It’s fucked up, I know that. Especially with life as it is now.”

You’d long given up trying to make your father proud, but you understood. Seokjin’s experiences were vastly different to yours, but you understood. His was a matter of life or death, you were sure of it. Yours was just the gradual estrangement from the people who had raised you. He confirmed the seriousness of his detriment in his next sentence.

“There’s nothing I can do about it. It’s my life. It’s expected of me. If I refused, said no... Ran away like a coward... God knows what would happen to me.”

Cruel of you maybe, but it was warming, reassuring to know he’d had such thoughts. Soothing to know in a lot of ways, he didn’t want this life. Selfish of you like you’d known. Trying to ease your own conscience, but here in his arms perhaps you really didn’t care. You didn’t care what Yeeun thought, what others would think if they ever found out. Your parents… None of it mattered because you knew that deep down, in his core, Seokjin was a good man. Rotten or not. He was good to you, and all that mattered. Yes, you were selfish, but you didn’t care.

“Fuck.” He cursed quietly, voice thick with emotion before he laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. “What a world we live in. When being a motherfucking zombie is considered normal and the least of your problems.”

You didn’t laugh along but kissed him softly. You think it stunned him, shutting him up instantly when you pulled away, until he exhaled, pulling you into another, longer, even sweeter kiss. He wrapped you in his arms tightly and you’d never felt safer. He got you onto your back, rolling on top of you, the fur separating your bodies, just, and your need for him burnt away inside your chest.

But he pulled away before you could do anything about it, opening his mouth to say something, expression hesitant. You cupped his cold face, trying your hardest to spread some of your warmth through his body, silently encouraging him to speak. He smiled thankfully. “I didn’t choose that either, by the way. This rotter body.”

Your forehead furrowed, trying to make sense of his words. “That shocks you,” he noted. “I know why. You think I wanted this, just like everyone else.” You opened your mouth to deny it, but what was the point? You hated gossip, like you’d said so many time before, never listened to it, but you had let it sink it’s way into your mind without realising.

Greed. You thought he was like all the rest. Seeking power. Your attraction to him overshot your distaste for the ghastly act of will, but maybe deep down, you’d hoped it wasn’t true.

“It’s okay,” he reassured, twisting slightly to kiss the palm of your hand. Then the tips of your fingers as you sought the touch. “I know what people say about me. They’re wrong though.”

“What happened?” You were whispering, asking without thinking. You didn’t want to pry but Seokjin had never shared this much before. You didn’t think he’d ever shared this much before. To anyone.

“A miscellaneous deal gone wrong. I won’t bore you with the details, but I was scratched.” Your eyes widened, heart ached for him. How wrong people were. How wrong you were. “I took it in my stride, still do. I guess in some ways it helped me, in others not so much... But,” he stopped himself, letting his eyes close as he kissed your fingertips again. When he opened them the grey looked sadder than usual. “Who will follow after me? The family name gone. Although maybe that isn’t a bad thing.” He added with an afterthought, chuckling humourlessly. “I would want no kid of mine doing this. I don’t know. What I’m trying to say is, if there was ever a cure, I’d take it in a heartbeat.” Your own heart beat loudly in your chest. “Wishful thinking, right?”

You were stunned to silence now, trying to make sense of everything. You wanted to reassure him. There was adoption, he needn’t have to dwell, but then it seemed like such a human, vulnerable thing to get hurt over. It made your throat tighten, eyes well up. You had never imagined his anguish over being undead. He always seemed so casual, so put together. His human life was stolen from him cruelly and he was just left to deal with it, alone. You didn’t care if that was his by choice or not. It made sense now, that in ways he had hidden from himself, and why. He was ashamed. He wasn’t greedy, he was lost.

“I don’t think so,” you murmured, caressing his face. “If they can mutate the disease and inject people with it, they can find an antidote.”

He smiled sadly. “Do you think they want that? This world is a corrupt place. Everyone has their own selfish reason’s for letting this disease take over.” He was correct. A cure would never be made by any official. But there could be other options. One day. Hope wasn’t lost.

“You can still live a normal life,” you insisted.

“I can never age. Who would want that? Amongst other things. I have everything against me.”

Something strong tore through your chest. It almost took your breath away, but you couldn’t voice it. You were too afraid. “I don’t think so.” You replied instead. It was hard to keep your voice stable. “What’s inside is more important.”

He chuckled sadly. “Angel, I’m rotten on the inside. Maybe on the outside too.”

His pet name warmed your heart, always did, but his words made it weep. You swallowed, coating your dry mouth and squeezed his face, clinging to him, hoping he’d understand what you were trying to say. “Not to me.”

He smiled, his eyes warming up and leant down to kiss you. “Thank you.” You held him close, sinking into his mouth. The cold was unnoticeable. He did understand. You could feel it in his kiss, taste it on his tongue.

He drew back slowly, just before he lost himself entirely. He had more to say before then. “I have never felt more comfortable with anyone than I have with you. More human...” He trailed off and laughed quietly. “Even when I was one.” He kissed you once more. Like he couldn’t keep away. Hands holding the sides of your face, he lingered, your breaths mingling.

“You care for me without judgement. That’s never happened before. I’ve never had that feeling.”

You squeezed his wrists in silent understanding, eyes glassy. You couldn’t speak if you tried. Couldn’t let him know you felt exactly the same, in fear of bursting into tears. He understood though. Of course he did.

And that’s where you were now. This present moment. The aftermath of such a confession only bringing you closer together. There were silent boundaries that had been made that night. Seokjin did not wish to go into detail about his days, nor did you want him to. You were at ease now, knowing you had been right about him, the others wrong. Yes, he wasn’t perfect. No one was. Yes, maybe if you knew the cold, hard facts, you wouldn’t be able to bear it, but you were happy being ignorant to that. It wasn’t greed that drove you, for Seokjin and all the pleasure he could give you. He had been wrong. You made him see that. It was a selfishness, and that was okay. It had to be. They were two different things. You were selfish for the happiness he made you feel, and likewise for him.

For the first time in your life, you were truly happy. Felt truly understood and not judged, and so did Seokjin. Despite your different life experiences, you were the same in your hearts; yours alive, his rotten, but it didn’t matter—and that’s why you’d been so drawn to him. Twin flames in this dark, overbearing world. You knew the weight of such words, but you didn’t care. Not when you had something good, something pure, and you were clinging to it with all your might.

As much as you had put him on a pedestal in the beginning, not quite believing he’d chosen you, wanted you. Potentially put your worth on his choice, it didn’t matter. Because he had done and felt the same. He had always been thankful you’d made the decision that you had. He was thankful that you wanted him. Still, even now. In ways, you had given him certain confidence and esteem that he’d been lacking. Similar to how he helped bloom yours too. Made you feel beautiful, sexy. It was not one sided with you two. It was real, and pure, and shared. Your admiration for one another. Your love…

Yes, this had been a simple arrangement. Sex. But it wasn’t so simple anymore. You both understood that. There would come a day when you’d have to acknowledge it, your feelings… It was potentially soon, or you could just keep hiding for a little while longer, but it would happen. Seokjin didn’t think he was capable of love after his turn. You remembered him saying something similar the first night you spent together, about romance. You knew now it was because he hated what he was. Undead. He had already lost so much of himself over the years, and to become infected only tore away more. But he was wrong. He was capable. You felt the love he gave you every day. Even if it was the silent kind. It shone from him, warmed you up when you clung to his ice cold flesh.

So yes, you were selfish, so was he. But you didn’t care. Not when you had one another to hide behind.

“How do you want me, Sir?” You silked the words, excitement bubbling away in the pit of your stomach. That was your little thing. What you called him sometimes. When he was in the mood for it.

He smiled at you, but it didn’t seem to reach his eyes. You tensed, studying him almost intently now. Maybe there had been a reason he was delayed. You opened your mouth to ask if everything was okay, but he beat you to it.

“No need for that tonight.” He sounded exhausted, beaten. You realised how terribly you’d misread the signs, feeling a little guilty as you sat up, tightening your gown over your chest. He walked over to his bureau, steps heavy on the wooden floor. Long ago had you come to accept his insistence on wearing shoes indoors, but you watched him step out of his boots now. Loosening the red tie around his neck before removing it completely.

You waited politely for him to continue in some way. Not wanting to push an explanation for his depleted mood. He removed his rings one by one, dropping them into a glass bowl. That’s where he spoke to. “Today’s been hard. I–“ He stopped himself, unable or unwilling to go on. You wondered if you should press him. You realised keeping things bottled up like he did wasn’t good. But you were scared. Scared it could ruin things. You bit on your bottom lip, hard, stifling yourself.

He turned to you then, a longing in his eyes. You knew that look very well. It was a yearning for you. “I just need some solace.”

You nodded slowly, outstretching your arms for him to meet you. He rounded the corner of the bed in a few, quick strides and dove into you. His mouth finding yours in a deep, intense kiss. You wrapped your arms tightly around his shoulders, feeling him squeeze his around your chest, like he needed to make sure you were really there. He spoke no more and that was okay.

His mouth and tongue found your neck, kissing the skin like it could kiss back, until he ceased and held his face in the crook, hugging you tightly. You ran your fingers through his hair, unsure what else you could do. Your chest felt sad and heavy, his mood affecting you immediately. But you needed to be strong. You kissed at whatever part of his face you could reach, your turn to make him feel good. Make him feel loved.

Somehow your lips met again, tongues slipping together, going from slow to fast. His anguish over what was unknown to you, turned into an urge to forget. An urge to bury himself so deep inside you, he’d forget the outside world. If not just for tonight. You would gladly give him that. Give yourself that.

Your hands ran along the tops of his arms, squeezing the muscles as you went, moaning softly when his tongue slipped into your ear, the coolness sending a shiver up your spine. You quickly found the buttons of his shirt, undoing them in equal haste, revealing the expanse of his chest. His hands tugged at the tie of your gown, getting it to fall open and reveal your chest. He cupped your breasts softly, like you would break if he tried any harder and slowly got you onto your back. Your gown slipped open fully, rendering you bare to his eyes, and he let out a sweet sound of awe. He loved your body. Always had. Always would.

You tugged where his shirt tucked into his slacks, and he ripped it from his body, desperate to get as naked as you. It wasn’t long before he was, lying atop your body, staring into your eyes as he caressed your face. His heart was beating a little faster than usual, like it did when he was aroused, yet still not that of a human heart. It never would, but it had become oddly soothing these days.

“Not too cold?” He asked, voice thick with something that had you reaching for him, holding him close.

You smiled. “No. I like it.”

He returned the action, rubbing your noses together affectionately. Your heart swelled in your chest. Fit to burst. You closed your eyes and let yourself sink when his mouth began travelling your body. Your chest rising and falling visibly as he found his way between your legs, making love with his mouth.

In fact, out of the hundreds of times you’d had sex, tonight was the closest you’d ever gotten to such an act. It just felt different. More vulnerable than ever before. Sweeter. It filled your hole body, elevated you. Took you to places you’d never been before.

He pushed inside you slowly, indulging in your velvet warmth, and when he began to thrust it was to a tantric rhythm. Your back arched, your toes curled and all that you felt was warmth. No matter how cold his flesh was, his glow engulfed your body. You wanted it to never stop.

“Tell me you’ll always want me,” he rasped into your ear. Silver and black eyes burning into yours when he pulled back to view you. It was the most defenceless thing he’d ever requested of you. Exposed in the darkness, you shone, giving him the confidence to plead for such a thing.

You held his face tight, voice a hushed whisper, but it didn’t make it any less true. You didn’t know what the future held, nor what would unfold. But you were sure of one thing. There would never be a time when you didn’t want him. You were his, and he was yours.

“Always.”

#seokjin smut #bts smut #jin smut #bts fic #jin fic #fic:club zombie #floralseokjin:writings

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wavesmp3 · 4 years

Text

our corner of the world

pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader genre/theme: apocalyptic au wc. 2k

you come across him on the abandoned strawberry patch in the spring. when you first see him it’s through the barrel of your gun. you wait for him to beg or plead for you not to kill him or for him to make some indication that he’s no longer human.

but he does neither.

and you hesitate.

you’re not one to show mercy, but something about his clean clothes and tousled blond hair stops you from pulling the trigger.

“are you Gone?” you try asking, praying for some sign that he’s human and for another that he’s worth your mercy.

he doesn’t look scared, laying on the brown dirt between the strawberry bushes. he looks free. he looks alive.

but then he laughs, and you think he looks kinda high.

he whispers, “i’m not Gone yet. put the gun down and lay with me.” for some reason you do. and as you settle down next to him, your dirty and mud-stained clothes centimeters away from his crisp, clean dress shirt, you assume that the divide between you two is much greater than the few centimeters keeping you apart. “and don’t worry, i’m as human as they get.”

you turn your head so that you can watch his face. and when his lips turn up in a dazed smile, you think he must be more human than you.

“i’m jeonghan,” he says to you, meeting your eyes, “thank you for laying down with me.”

you break the eye-contact and look up towards the sky. you don’t remember the sky ever looking this blue before.

he’s still looking at you. you hope he’s waiting for you to say your own name back. you don’t. instead you say: “jeonghan’s a nice name.” then, as an afterthought you add, “let’s watch the clouds together.”

he complies all too happily. “you’re cute,” he mutters.

and you swear the sun shines a little brighter in that moment.

>>><<<

you remember the day it all began. the Gone roamed the streets and worries roamed your mind. you tried to forget that day. but it appears it's harder than it seems to erase the image of a bloodstained joshua sitting lifeless on the kitchen floor of the place the two of you called home.

you push the memory away as soon as it had surfaced.

>>><<<

jeonghan took you in that night. he stayed in the large barn at the edge of the farm, and after that day in the dirt, you did too.

the Gone that appeared near the farm were slow and uninterested. for the first time since it all began, you felt safe.

you spent the days in the strawberry patch or underneath the shade of the peach trees. other days, you spent roaming the vegetable gardens, walking along the orchard paths, and taking leisurely dips in the lake.

the blond boy was good, easy company. he never asked you to share your life before the day you met him.

so you never did.

>>><<<

“it was quiet for a few days before anything happened here,” jeonghan tells you one night. the night you spent in front of the fire in the living room. “by the time the Gone had reached our corner of the world, the chaos had already begun.”

“our?” you ask carefully.

“me and my mom.” he says with a sad smile. a smile that says all you need to know. “this was her farm. i was only supposed to stay with her for the summer.”

with the glassy look in his eyes, you already know that you’ve gone too far. but you figure it can’t hurt to go further.

“is she Gone?”

he doesn’t say anything for so long that you begin to wonder if he even heard you.

“that’s enough for today,” he whispers as if talking any louder would physically hurt him. the next part he says with a chuckle. “especially coming from someone who’s name i still don’t know.”

you decide it’s time to go to sleep.

he decides to call you peach.

>>><<<

the days turn longer and hotter. but you swear, time hasn’t moved since the day you laid down in the strawberry patch and watched the clouds with him.

the day you spent under the apricot tree was the first time you had the will to ask.

you sit with your back against the tree and his head in your lap. you twist and twirl twigs and flowers into his hair. you create a crown for the boy who took you in. the sun was bright and hot, but underneath the apricot tree, the sun was welcoming and warm.

as you twist one last purple flower into the peaking brown roots of his hair, he says, “Gone. at the pig sty.”

you watch the Gone unsheathe itself from the outline of the trees next to the empty pig sty. it’s slow and limping. but quiet and small. you almost don’t shoot out of pity.

the ring of the gunshot and smell of the bullet echo in your ears.

after the Gone drops to the ground, jeonghan’s head flops back onto your lap. a couple twigs fall out of his hair when he does.

“jeonghan”

he hums.

“how come the Gone don’t come here very often?”

a cloud ghosts over the sun and for a small second the world is shady and cold.

“my mother used to say it was because of the strawberries. something about the scent or the patch repel the normal ones.”

“what about in the off season?” you ask, retwisting the twig that fell out.

“i don’t know if that’s the truth. it’s just something my mom used to say.”

you nod, in understanding even though he can’t see.

a new question teeters on your tongue. one that fills you with equal parts of fear and curiosity. one that spills out from the corner of your mouth before you can even begin to repress the thought.

“how long since she…”

he stops breathing for a second. so you stop speaking.

for a moment, it’s like the two of you disappear. and the only thing left on earth are the birds and the trees.

“she was sick before anything had started,” he says in a low voice as if it’s only meant for himself to hear. “it’s the reason why I came to stay with her. she died in the winter.”

he turns his head, and you follow his eyes to a small, crooked cross hidden behind the greenhouse. you didn’t take jeonghan to be a religious guy, but you suppose the cross was put up as a plea for normalcy.

you feel a tear drop onto the leg of your jeans.

for a moment, it’s like the only thing left on earth are the birds, the trees, jeonghan, and you.

>>><<<

things are different after that day. jeonghan doesn’t smile as much. and there’s a pain behind his eyes. yet somehow, he manages to look even more alive.

after that day, it’s like a piece of jeonghan was ripped from him. it’s like you broke him, and you aren’t sure you know how to put him back together.

the day he starts coming back is the day of the first summer storm. the windows slam against the barn, and lightning illuminates the sky. the rain beats against the roof with an intensity that shakes the walls a little. as if they’re trying to get rid of the spring. as if they are cleaning themselves for the summer.

jeonghan disappeared that morning. you hadn’t seen him all day.

you sit in one of the rocking chairs on the front porch. the rain brushes against the dark wood of the porch and sprays itself onto your extended toes. you flinch every time thunder sounds across the sky.

you wait for him to return. you wait until the seconds and minutes and hours bleed into each other like water colors. you wait until you can’t any more.

you find him behind the greenhouse. he doesn’t hear you come up behind him, sloshing your boots through the mud. for the first time since you met him, he’s dirty. his clothes are mud-stained and drenched with rain.

his head is bowed. he kneels in the mud by the crooked cross. the cries of his heart are silenced by the storm raging above, but the strife of his loss spreads to you like wildfire. and it burns all the way through you. it makes you ache. you didn’t know his mother yet in this moment you’re grieving with him. or maybe it’s just that you’re grieving for him. you want to gather his cries in your arms and throw them in the pig sty. you want to hold him and hug him and tell him everything is fine. but you’ve lost yourself in the muddy puddles beneath your feet and you aren’t sure if it would be any help anyway.

he catches you standing behind him. the ends of your white dress dyed with mud. your boots are filled with rainwater. and water pours from your eyes with the same intensity that it pours off the side of your umbrella.

he sees you for the first time. he sees you before you’re certain you’ve really seen him.

you fall to your knees in the mud beside him. and you cry and let your heart ache for the first time since everything began. you grieve for joshua. jeonghan grieves for his mother. you grieve for each other. and when the next thunder claps across the grey sky, you both grieve for this world.

things change again after the first summer storm.

it was during the first summer storm that you realized your denial ran deeper than you had known. deeper than you had thought possible.

it was during the first summer storm that you realized the beautiful boy who cried by your side was in denial too.

it was during the first summer storm that you realized jeonghan was just as human as you.

>>><<<

it’s two days after he makes strawberry jam for the first time that you tell him your name. it also happens to be the day you tell him everything.

you tell him about your life before the chaos. you tell him about joshua. you tell him about the day it all began. you tell him how you ended up at the strawberry patch that day.

when you finish, he wipes the tears you didn’t know were falling. he holds you in his arms. and calls you peach until you fall asleep. the last thing you remember from that night is the smell of strawberry jam off his shirt.

the next morning he brings you jam and toast in bed. you eat with a smile.

>>><<<

you think that the days after the first summer storm must’ve been some of the best days of your life.

nothing about the world had changed, but something about you and jeonghan had. something about the way you felt when he smiled at you. something about the way he laughed so hard that you could see his gums. something about the way he stopped bothering to dye his hair blond. something about the way he brings you food when you sit by the lake. something about the way he sits with you after he does. something about the way your chest clenches and your heart contracts. something had changed. and every single day after the first summer storm, you prayed it’d never change back.

you loved his corner of the world. you wanted to grow old between the strawberry bushes and listen to him tell you that strawberries don’t grow on bushes. you wanted to fight with him in the midst of the orchard. you wanted to thumb wrestle under the apple trees. you wanted to make jam at the end of each season with him. you wanted forever in the barn at the edge of the farm.

the night he kisses you for the first time is the night that his corner of the world becomes your corner of the world too.

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stachmousworld · 4 years

Text

P*$$y fairy (Hot Smut) P.1

Pairing: Steve rogers x WOC original character

Tag: Daddy kink, vaginal fingering, virginity loss (blood), oral sex, consensual all the way through.

Part 2

“No,” she said categorically.

“Please…pretty please…” Julie begged her best friend.

“No. You are out of your mind. I won’t do it.”

Julie took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to invoke this, but…do you remember the life or death experience from march?”

Her bestfriend sent her a death glare.

“On all the shit you could use this, you chose this one?”

Julie nodded vehemently. She plumped her lower lip and opened her big blue eyes. She knew that her bestfriend wouldn’t be able to resist.

“Argh! Ok! Stop looking at me like that!” She said, throwing her hands in the air. “What I wouldn’t do for my so-called friend.”

Juliet jumped into her arms and thanked her.

“I let you prepare yourself. My stepdad is a little bit nervous. So be prepared.”

She rolled her eyes and gave her best smile. Julie grimaced.

“You won’t fuck it up on purpose, right? Because he really likes you and he loves talking to you about these boring things.”

Her best friend plopped on the couch. She reveled in the compliments. She, also, loved to discuss with Steve. He was as smart as handsome and could debate for hours. If he wasn’t Julie’s stepdad, she’d totally go for him.

“Why would I do that, Julie?” She asked, her voice laying thick on sarcasm.

Julie glared at her.

“I know I should have never asked you to do that,” she muttered, leaving the room

“After tonight, we’re even!” She screamed, cackling like a hyena. “Finally, even,” she repeated in a mutter.

It took her a few minutes to get prepared. She chose a regular outfit. Tight little red dress with short heels. Julie’s stepdad was quite tall, but she didn’t want to have sore feet before the end of the night. She shook her head and patted her wig. She had chosen a burgundy one and had curled the long hair. She looked gorgeous if she did say so herself. She shook her head enjoying the feeling of the silky hair on her back.

It didn’t take long before Julie’s stepdad rang at the door. She took her jacket, her bag and opened the door. Mister Rogers looked…too handsome to be real. He had trimmed his full beard, she remarked, out loud. His entire face relaxed. He let out a chuckle.

“What else have I changed, miss?”

She smiled recognizing the competition.

“Your hair is longer, and you didn’t dye them. You don’t where your contacts today.” He looked briefly shocked. A small smile appeared on his face. “You normally don’t wear anything that “posh” so that’s a win for me. It looks good on you. Dark blue makes your eyes pop more.”

Mister Rogers licked his lip slowly, then smiled again. It’s weird how she could notice more details from him because she was attracted to him. She didn’t want to freak him out, so she’d just focus on the more obvious.

“Can we stay in your apartment just one second?” he asked out of the blue.

She opened her mouth to question him but thought otherwise. She pushed herself out of the way and let him in.

He was standing there, in the middle of her living room, looking out of place. The blue of his suit clashed with the warm colors in her apartment, but he didn’t care. No. He seemed perfectly at in his element.

“Do you need to go to the toil –”

“Shhh” he ordered her softly. “Do you remember Julie’s 21st birthday?”

She unconsciously took a step back as memories flooded her mind. Some parts were hazy and others more like a living fantasy. She didn’t remember taking anything, no alcohol nor drugs, that’s for sure. So, there was no way what happened was real. It had been a vivid, extremely vivid dream.

“Yeah?”

Mister Rogers unbuttoned his vest and laid it on the armchair. He sat down and crossed his leg. He was gazing at her, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“Do you remember what happened between us?”

“Between us?” She repeatedly dumbly.

He nodded patiently. Slowly drumming on his ankle.

“I don’t…what happened?” She preferred asking. It had been a vivid dream. Nothing had been real she reassured herself.

“Julie was having a party downstairs, and everyone was partying, drinking and enjoying their night, right?”

“Hm.” Her breathing grew shallower.

“Yep. I was upstairs in my bedroom, minding my own business when you can in my room. Your face was as red as a beetroot. I thought you were having an allergic reaction.”

She frowned. She had no memories of that.

“I came to you, helped you out. You were stuttering something about an important issue,” he chuckled. “I asked you what that had to do with me…”

Memories came as he talked.

“But you don’t understand, Mister Rogers! I’m going to die a virgin,” she pouted, unashamed. She was high on adrenaline and felt braver than she’d ever think.

Mister Rogers – Steve smiled and shook his head, amused.

“Isn’t that a tad dramatic? Even for you?”

“And what I’m supposed to do?”

Steve moved around the room, tidying as he walked through.

“Finding a boy who’ll love you and make love to you.”

She grimaced and grunted.

“That’s going to take forever. Plus, boys my age don’t know shit about sex. It’s ‘oh a vagina, let me put my dick in it.’ and a few seconds later they cum and you’re still dry as fuck and they don’t care about that because, ‘women should be wet all the time’ or my favorite response ‘It’s not my problem’.” She flopped on his bed and laid there, sighing deeply. “I’m going to die a virgin.”

Steve started laughing surprising her. She raised her head and smiled softly.

“That’s not funny…” She grumbled.

Steve took a look at her and laughed some more.

“Mister Rogers! This is a really serious matter.”

“Ok, ok I stop.” He raised his hands in mock defense. “But you have to understand that for me, a man of the wrong side of 30, it’s kind of hilarious that your main worry in life is losing your virginity.” He made his way toward her and sat next to her. “You have your entire life to get it figured it out. I don’t want you to rush things up. Like you said, boys your age don’t really think about giving.”

She frowned not liking at all the paternal tone. She didn’t want to wait many more years. She wanted to have sex right now. Her eyes grew wide. Right now. Parties were a good way to have sex so Julie said.

“Why do I know you didn’t listen jack shit of what I just said?” He sighed.

“Thank you, mister Rogers! But I gotta go.” She jumped off the bed and quickly made her way to the door.

“Wait!” She stopped. “What are you going to do, exactly?”

She spun around. “Have sex. Parties are known to have horny people. I’m sure I’d find someone to sleep with me. Easy peasy.”

Steve who had been laughing a few minutes ago was dead serious. He looked reprobative and the frown on his face wasn’t reassuring.

“That’s exactly the opposite of what I told you to do.”

“Yeah, and?” She kept glancing behind her as if the horny people would disappear in a minute.

“You will regret it.”

“And?” She pressed him.

“It’s supposed to be –.”

“I’m going to cut you right there, Mister Rogers. I don’t care at this point. I want an orgasm or two. That’s it.”

Steve sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“This is unbelievable. Are you drunk?” She shook her head. “Baked?” Another shook.

Steve stood up. He raised his eyes to the ceiling. “God forgive me.” He looked at his feet, then at her. “I can’t in all fairness let you have some maybe unprotected sex with a knucklehead, who’s going to cum in a few seconds and leave you dry.”

She blushed at his crudity.

“You shouldn’t blush. Those are the words you used.”

She tried to explain herself but failed miserably.

“I’m going to propose something. Instead of sleeping with someone you don’t know, I’ll do it.”

She choked on her saliva. Her nostrils burned as her saliva went through them. She wiped her nose hastily.

“What do you mean by I’ll do it?” She had to make sure she heard it right.

“I’ll fuck you” The blush intensified. Steve smirked mischievously. “I’ll put my erection in your wet vagina. I’ll put my dick in your greedy hole and fill you up quite nicely.”

She shuffled her feet trying to not cross her legs and be obvious. There was an aching between her legs. It was both familiar and yet unfamiliar. She was used to being horny but the emptiness inside of her had never felt so awful.

“You don’t have to be this crude,” she repeated weakly.

Steve walked slowly toward her. His eyes never left hers.

“Why? Do you think those frat boys would be more polite?” He stood a few feet from her. “No. They’d treat you like a whore, manhandle you. And if you find the wrong one, he’ll make sure to tell his friends about your little pussy.” His voice grew deeper. “And I’d have to beat the hell out of these boys.” He approached until her face collided with his broad chest. “But we don’t want that right?”

“N-no.”

“Good. Have you ever seen a dick before?”

The change of subject gave her whiplash.

“No.” He took a few steps backward and sat on the bed legs open.

“Come and work for it, then.”

She walked a little unsure of what to do. Did he want her to suck him or jerk him off?

She kneeled in front of him and unbuttoned his jeans. First surprise was that he was soft but long. The tip was a pretty pinkish. She rolled her fingers around the shaft and slowly moved. Steve hissed. Her head snapped up.

“Keep going, baby girl. Take your time and do whatever you think could feel good. But no teeth.”

“Oh, and I thought I could bite it off,” she joked.

Before Steve could reply she sucked the tip. Her tongue rolled around the bulbous head, tasting a drop of precum. She hummed, finally relaxing. She swallowed more of his dick, making sure to hide her teeth.

The tip hit the back of the throat. She moaned and kept going past her gag reflex, until she was nuzzled on his pubic. She cleared her throat, making him moaned loudly.

He gripped the sheets next to him. She slowly bobbed her throat enjoying his growing thickness in her mouth. Her eyes rolled back as he was fully erected. She couldn’t deepthroat him anymore and mourned the feeling of his hair on her face.

His carnal scent made her dizzy.

With one hand she rolled and squeezed his balls and with the other she jerked him off. She bobbed her head faster, as his groans grew louder.

“God, what a mouth…” he hissed. He placed a hand on her head and fucked her mouth. She closed her eyes, mouth agape, barely breathing. He forced his length inside her throat making her gag. Her eyes watered.

He finally let go of her when she was on the verge to faint. He slapped his wet dick onto her cheeks, avoiding her stretched tongue.

“That’ll be for later. I guess.” He pushed grabbed her and laid her on the bed. She let him do, still not believing she had sucked her bff stepdad. When she came back to herself, Steve had already taken care of his clothes and hers. He was between her legs, caressing the apex of her thighs. She moaned, pushing her hip onto his face.

“I thought you would never come back to yourself.”

“First time sucking a dick, so…” she said, voice a little hoarse.

Steve smiled. “And you did amazing. I would have cum in your mouth, but the night is young.”

She keened at the praise.

“But now you got your fill, I’ll need to prepare you,” he said, before diving in. She almost jerked away when she felt his tongue around her clit. The sensation felt unfamiliar yet so tantalizing.

She dropped back and rolled her hip on his face. Steve pressed her hips on the mattress and ravaged her. His tongue was lapping, circling her clit with extreme precision. He sucked on her clit like a popsicle. Pleasure washed over her rendering her boneless.

Steve moaned around her clit.

“Mister Rogers!” She screamed, as her orgasm approached.

Steve stopped. She whined and tried to push his head back. He laughed patting her hands out. He used his fingers to rub her clit. Briefly. So brief, she wasn’t even sure he did it.

One long finger slid in. She gaped, back arching. He was so deep. Deeper than her fingers could have been.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” He muttered, on the skin of her thigh. He pressed a few kisses. A second finger got in quite easily. Her body went laxed, before tensing. He had crooked his fingers and hit…God…it was so good. She fucked herself on his fingers enjoying their callosity and thickness.

Steve chuckled. “If I had known you were that greedy, I would have started earlier.”

“Tol’ ya,” she gasped.

A third one came in. She tensed feeling a bit too stretched.

“I’m bigger than that baby girl.” He groaned. “I can’t wait to see my dick stretching you out. Just for me.”

He went back to sucking her clit. The sudden onslaught and pleasure rushing through her veins relaxed her. She could hear the watery noise from her pussy. She pressed her legs around his head and pushed him into her. Steve didn’t push her this time and accepted.

Out of the sudden, Steve crooked is fingers making a wince. She was about to tell him when she felt a spark of pleasure erupting from her pussy. She grabbed her chest, dazed. Steve pressed into her sweet spot, hitting it every time.

She couldn’t breath. She couldn’t stay focus.

Her orgasm uncoiled suddenly after a particular brutal thrust. Her entire body spasmed on the bed. She couldn’t help herself but moan, whine and call his name.

It took a few minutes hour or days for she knew to come back to reality. Her body was sensitive and yet, she wasn’t really satiated.

“Here,” he said, bringing a straw to her mouth. She raised her head and sipped. The first one was at least as orgasmic as what had happened. Between sucking Steve’s dick and being fingerfucked within an inch of her life, her throat felt like sandpaper.

“Delicious.” She smacked her lips a few times enjoying the cold water. She sipped some more finishing the glass.

“I know. There is nothing orgasmic than water when you are thirsty.”

She hummed, eyes closed, enjoying being naked on satin sheets.

The bed dipped. Steve opened her legs and laid on her. He pressed some kisses on her face before kissing her mouth. He bit her lower tongue and plunge his tongue inside. He grinded his erection on her slit. Sweet wet noises resonated in the room. She caressed his biceps to his back. She brought her legs around his, pressing them together.

Steve bit her tongue. She groaned.

“Sweet girl,” he complimented her. He rocked his hips against hers. “Saw you a few days ago, in that small shirt with nothing under.” He pinched her right nipple. “All I dreamt of was bending you and fuck you till you call me daddy.” He grazed her jaw with his teeth. “I dream everyday about my sweet baby girl, calling me daddy. And me, you know what I do?” She shook her head completely dazed. “I have your legs on my shoulders, while I pound MY sweet pussy until you try to push me away because it is too much. I make you come every time and you always end up bursting with my cum.”

He licked her lips, thrusting his tongue in. He played with hers in a sloppy kiss. She didn’t even try to fight with him and let him take what he wanted. In a short conscious moment, she realized that she also dreamt of him. And maybe she had tried to attract his intention, but who cared right now.

Steve sat on his haunches. He gripped his flushing erection slapping it on her clit and hole. He pretended to slip it in making her angry. She tried to push him in herself, but he slapped her hand away.

“Patience. I don’t want to rush it.” His tip got caught on the hole. “I wonder if you’ll put some red on my ledger?”

What? She didn’t have the time to ask that he pressed in. She immediately tensed. Steve tsked.

“My tip is barely in, baby girl.” He thrusted out then in. He got a little more in, but she was still tensed. “I thought you said you were ready? If you don’t want, we can still stop. Actually, we can stop even in the middle of it, it’s your choice.”

She blushed with embarrassment. She was ridiculous. It wasn’t supposed to go like that.

“Hey, don’t hide from me. It’s totally normal, that’s your first time. I’d be totally surprised if you’d be wide open, ready to take it like that. Do you want to continue?”

“Yes, please,” she asked, vulnerable. He smiled softly and kissed her forehead. He leaned forward, caging her with his arms.

“Focus on me,” he whispered, diving for kiss. As his tongue played with hers, she felt a pinch inside of her. She unconsciously tensed up. Steve placed a hand on her clit and rubbed it fast. His tongue battled with hers as pleasure and pain overwhelmed her.

She wanted to cry. She felt so full, so good, so stretched. Her eyes rolled back. His dick was so large and hard. She surely could feel him in her heart. God!

“That’s Steve or Daddy for you babe.” He groaned in her ear as pleasure took them both to new heights. “You are so good to me. So tight…I won’t be able to get enough of this.” He kept sliding deeper inside her. Tears ran down her face. How could he go that far inside of her.

“That’s okay, baby girl, I know it is overwhelming. Daddy’s dick fill you up quite nicely, isn’t?”

She cried some more. “So good.”

Steve kissed her nose. “I know. Now, it’s time to see something.” He slid out in a slow motion. He moaned her name and squeezed her hips hard. The emptiness disturbed her. She wanted him back in.

“Oh,” he said.

She raised her head and saw a hint of red around the crown of his dick. She frowned not understanding what was the problem. Steve raised an eyebrow and looked at her with awe. Oh. Realization dawned upon her. Her hymen had broken. Steve surged forward kissing her with renewed passion.

“God, you are mine now. All mine, baby girl.”

He pressed his erection onto her hole and slid right in. She felt a slight discomfort, but the overwhelming pleasure took over. He started thrusting.

“So tight…” He kept murmuring inside her ear. “Will fuck you all night, don’t worry. ‘be so sore tomorrow.”

She barely could breath anymore. His dick hit her sweet spot no matter what. The more she tried to make him slowdown a bit, the less he did.

She finally let go. He stood there above her, beard glistening with sweat and her juice, dark blue eyes peering on her. He slowed for a bit.

She sighed in relief.

“Are you ready, for the grand final?” He whispered huskily.

She raised an eyebrow. The what now?

He chuckled darkly. His thrusts grew faster. She gripped the sheets around her to stay grounded.

“Fuck!” She screamed when his tip hit home. He grabbed her legs, bend them until they hit her chest. She was constricted and could barely move.

“Better like that…” he groaned to himself. “Deeper…hungry hole…”

He pressed harder her legs and started pounding her. It instantly knocked the breath out of her. His dick speared her to the limit and the bulbous head was now slamming against her spot.

She started seeing white spot. She blinked rapidly to stay conscious, but Steve wouldn’t fucking let go.

“Fuck, that pussy so good!” He screamed. His thrusts were now wilder.

She screwed her eyes and grimaced as her orgasm knocked her out. Steve kept thrusting inside her, not even slowing down. He bent to her ears and grunted. “Gonna come…fuck…so tight…”

A few thrusts later and he suddenly stilled inside her. She gasped as his semen coated her walls and automatically rolled her hips, milking him for some more.

She closed her eyes…

“So, do you remember, now?” Steve asked, still on the armchair.

Part 2

#steve rogers x woc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x black!reader #black female characters #virginity #daddy!steve #stepdad!Steve #steve rogers x poc!reader

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avengersassemble-fics · 3 years

Text

Stark’s Girl

part 012/?? “something new”

masterlist

previous part // next part

word count 3.2k

The world post-blip saw a lot of changes. And with you being out of the loop already, there were some important changes you wanted to make sure you didn’t forget.

Natasha became the backbone of the Avengers (though some including you would argue she always had been.) She was the one who stayed at the Compound and worked through the intel she received from the team who was not only spread out over the world, but in space. Yeah you were still getting used to that too.

Steve wasn’t in the game anymore. Not as much, really. He was still Captain America (he’d always be Captain America), but he took a more direct approach with helping people. The last you knew he was running a help group in the city for those who needed the support.

Tony did something that changed your life along with his. He started his own family. A few months after the snap, he was walking by your side through Central Park when he broke the news to you that Pepper and him were going through with the weeding in two weeks. You were shocked, but happy of course.

“We just don’t want to wait anymore,” Tony told you. “Can’t ask her to wait forever on me.”

It was beautiful. Like you pointed out before, Tony liked to be dramatic. But you couldn’t help but shed a tear at seeing your new sister-in-law come down the aisle. Their vows were very much themselves, shared jokes that only they understood (something about 12% Tony told her at the altar.) The only downside to their wedding was going stag, and also having to see Steve there.

Ever since you were hit with the memories of what happened the night of your parents crash, you had these moments of, for lack of a better phrase, pure unfiltered anger. Though those moments were far and few now that you were back to a “normal” life (as normal as this could be) you still found yourself zoning out on occasion. And that wasn’t safe. You couldn’t help but swirl the flute of champagne around as your mind drifted off to your last episode.

It was night time, on a full moon no less. The air had a slight chill to it, enough to where you could see the hot breath of air released from your victim. They ran, jumping over the foliage that covered the ground. They were frantic, which made this easier for you. You moved slowly as they tripped over a branch, sliding across the cold ground as you towered over them. The woman cried out, crawling over the leaves scattered over the ground. She didn’t turn to face you until you came to a stop at her feet. You didn’t even recognize the tears in her eyes.

“Пожалуйста,” (Please) she begged you. Your dead set eyes didn’t budge as she pushed herself up to a seated position. “Почему вы это делаете?” (Why are you doing this?)

You clenched your fist by your side, the anger coming up to a boil. “Ты меня не помнишь?” (You don’t remember me?) She shook her head and your eye twitched. You crouched down to look her in the eye and tilted your head. “Ты сказал мне, что поможешь мне почувствовать себя лучше ... И что моя семья идет за мной.” (You told me you’d help me feel better.. And that my family was coming for me.)

Something registered over her face. Fear. Recognition. It all laced together in a paled look on her face.

You stood again as she began to cry. You heard her pleas as you moved behind her, pulling the rope from your hip. Your gloved hands wrapped both ends over your knuckle so it was tight, and in a snap pulled it over her neck. She gasped and writhed under the pressure, but you never once flinched. You never felt her body stop, or her breaths for that matter, and didn’t snap out of it until you were in the shower. You were just standing under the water, which was laced with red, mumbling to yourself.

“I hope you remember them.”

A hand came down on your shoulder. You did your best to hide your jump, but Tony noticed. He didn’t say anything, but he did see it. He gave you a squeeze and you reached your free hand up to place over it. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” you told him. You could see Pepper through the dancing crowd, and you smiled a bit. “You should be dancing with your wife.”

“And you should be enjoying yourself,” Tony replied.

“I will when you do,” you poked at him. He gave your hand a kiss before disappearing past the bodies. You rubbed at your neck and set your drink down at the table before playing with the fabric of your dress. The one slit up your leg was a good choice on Natasha’s part. But it all felt too stuffy. Beautiful lilac color, but just a little too tight around your--

“Didn’t come with anyone?” an all too familiar voice asked you. You flattened the fabric back down and let out a little sigh.

“I don’t really.. Know anyone who wasn’t already coming,” you said. Steve stood before you in a dark suit and lacked the black striped tie he was wearing earlier. He nodded but you shrugged. “I just met Wong though. He’s nice.”

“Yeah he is,” Steve replied. You noticed the song change, something a little slower paced. The lights dimmed down a bit and you shifted a bit in your seat. “Would you like to dance?”

You thought it over for a moment. It seemed like the dance floor was packed, barely anyone was left amongst the tables, and you rubbed your arm. “I don’t really know how to..”

There was a hint of a smile, enough to make your stomach twist, and he offered his hand to you. “Lucky for you I’m a professional.”

You bit back a smile, and slowly placed your hand in his. Steve helped you stand and he led you out to the floor. There was enough space for the two of you, and he turned back to face you. The hand that engulfed yours tightened a bit, his fingers gently grazed over the back of your hand. Your other hand floated over his arm and rested on his shoulder, and you felt his other hand on your waist.

Steve led, taking a step to the side and you followed. You were closer than you would have preferred, but with a glance around the room the lack of space seemed standard. You felt like you were gliding across the floor and you looked back at your partner. “I had no idea you had such a talent.”

“Ah well I had promised Nat I would be prepared the next time I asked someone to dance,” he explained. Steve suddenly removed his hand from your waist and twirled you around. When you met his gaze again you had a raised brow, and when he pulled you back into him you laughed a bit.

“Kudos to her then,” you said barely above a whisper. You felt his fingers seem to rub against your side, and then he spoke softly.

“I would do anything for my best gal.”

There were some more changes that quickly followed within that year.

Tony really started a family. Pepper gave birth to the cutest little girl, and they ended up naming her Morgan. Who had known such a small thing could make you feel so much? You fell in love with her as soon as Tony placed her in your arms. He was teary eyed as he reached out and stroked his finger over her chubby cheek.

You knew he would do anything for this girl. And you were right behind him on that.

It was actually at her first birthday party (though this was more a party for the adults then her) was the next time you saw Steve and Natasha. Her hair was grown out, the fiery red tint mixing in with the previous white dye job. You could see the bags under her eyes and the tension in her shoulders, but after a few drinks she was much more relaxed. Pepper had put Morgan down for a nap, which left Tony, Nat, and you all mingling in a circle while Steve kept his distance.

You were grateful not to have eyes on the back of your head, but you could feel Steve’s burning into you. Tony seemingly got distracted by Pepper, excusing himself from the small and intimate group to aid his wife. Natasha glanced at you from the corner of her eye, taking a sip of the beer in her hand. “So what are you doing nowadays?”

“Besides the occasional diaper change?.. Not much. It’s quiet out here.”

It was true. Tony and Pepper relocated to a cabin outside of the city and the hustle and bustle. You loved Tony, loved being around them both, but you couldn’t help but feel out of place. Or like a bother even. This was Tony’s time to connect to his new family, and you couldn’t help but feel you were intruding. While your thoughts wandered off, Natasha nodded a bit, resting her closest arm to you on the back of the couch, shifting a bit to face you better. “If you wanted.. I could always use your help back at the Compound.”

You glanced back the way Tony had disappeared back into their home. You knew by the way you described it that it was his, not yours, and slowly you nodded. Before you spoke you could see Steve almost smile a bit to himself before turning his back to you. “I.. I think that would be good.”

It’s been four years since the Snap. That was really all the biggest changes you had experienced or felt you needed to catch people up on. Breaking the news to Tony that you were moving back to New York and going back to work with Natasha was a bitter pill for him to swallow, but you reassured him you’d be fine. You needed something to focus your mind on, and he understood for the most part. There was a moment though that made you nearly back out, and Tony had definitely caught it that time.

Something had played on tv that night as you helped Tony wash the dinner dishes. Morgan should’ve been in bed by then, Pepper probably waiting for Tony to join her, but Tony truly hadn’t adjusted to using normal appliances. He set off the faucet spray three times, which was two less than last week, so you took over washing duties while he dried. You had only caught a notion of what was being said on the television, but the news anchor speaking made you stop. Tony was chatting next to you, but you turned around to look at the television, only to see the flash of the story playing.

There was a body found in the woods in Russia of a woman in her mid fifties, who was strangled to death with what was identified as rope found nearby. The area was clean of any evidence, especially given how long the body was out there before hunting season started and a couple happened upon it, but it could be linked to three other murders reported on in the last 6 years. You don’t know what happened, but Tony placing his hand on your shoulder was what set you off.

The emptiness that would swallow your mind fell upon you like a curtain closing on a play. Tony would later tell you that the light in your eyes disappeared, and it was as if you didn’t know him. He said that you had very successfully removed his hand from you and shoved him back in the cabinets, rattling the dishes inside. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt him, but it was enough to stun him for a few moments and give you time to desperately escape.

Tony said it took him a few moments to regain his composure, but the worry he felt propelled him out the cabin and out of earshot of Pepper’s calls for him. He wasn’t far behind you, and his calls of your name resulted in nothing but quick looks back at him, but one thing was clear to him: you weren’t okay. The next thing you remembered was something hitting your shoulder in a small jolt, which later Tony confirmed was a shock from his watch (still in testing), and him hovering over you in the darkness.

It was enough to make him concerned about you going through with your decision to rejoin Natasha. But for you it was enough to solidify your decision.

“Tony I don’t want to.. Do that around Morgan,” you whispered to him, careful with your words. “Besides you need this time with them. And I’m sure Pepper needs you more right now.”

“I can’t knowingly let you leave without even knowing what the hell is going on with you,” Tony whispered yelled at you. “You’ve avoided this conversation for two weeks, can’t you tell me what’s going on?”

You narrowed your glare at him but he only matched you. After a few seconds you grumbled in surrender and rested the last piece of clothing you were folding and walked towards the back door. Tony carefully placed Morgan into the low crib before following you outside. You face the lake, the breeze pushing past you and into the house in a cool breeze, and Tony came up by your side and rested his hip against the railing.

“Talk to me,” he urged you. You sighed and finally faced him, resting your hip as well on the railing.

“After learning the truth I’ve been having these.. Episodes,” you told him. “It’s like a blanket falls over me and I can’t find my way out of it until something else pulls it off. And by that time I’m not where I remember I was. Time has passed, something has happened.”

“How many times has this happened?”

“Last time made five,” you admitted guiltily. “I don’t know what causes it, or how to stop it.. But being busy, keeping my mind on track, seems to help the most.”

Tony thought your words over, before nodding to himself and looking out to the lake. You followed his lead and looked back out to the setting sun, the breeze and chirps of birds lulling the silence, before Tony spoke again.

“If you go you have to check in with me,” Tony compromised. “I’m going to make sure FRIDAY sends me updates on your brain waves, try and figure out what triggers it if it happens again.”

You smiled to yourself and linked your arm through his and came to rest your head against his shoulder. “You’re truly the best brother I could’ve asked for.”

Tony let out a pfft noise, before lifting his arm to wrap around your shoulder. He placed a chaste kiss to your forehead as you both stared out at the lake. “We’ll get through this together.”

Tony wouldn’t admit this to anyone, especially you, but after you departed for the city he made a house call a few days later. Tony stood before the apartment door unsure if this was the best idea, and ready to flee if no one came in 10 more seconds. But when he heard the footsteps on the other side he let out a sigh and mumbled to himself. “This is for her sake Tony.”

The door opened to reveal his former friend. Steve Rogers looked nearly the same as the last time he saw him at Morgan’s party (which he was only invited to because of Pepper and Natasha.) Full beard, tired eyes, and a surprised expression. “Tony?”

Tony motioned between the two of them with the glasses he pulled off while waiting. “We need to talk.”

Steve took a moment to think it over before nodding and stepping aside for Tony to enter. Tony carefully took a step in, taking in the environment and really noticing how.. Empty it all felt. Steve closed and latched the door behind his guest, which made Tony look back at him. “Should maybe leave that unlocked in case anything happens.”

“I don’t think that would be necessary,” Steve replied. But either way he unlocked the latch before looking back at Tony. “But if it makes you more comfortable.”

“It was more for you then for me,” Tony replied back. Steve smiled a bit and nodded, and Tony tapped his hand with his glasses. “Gotta say the place hasn’t come along that much since you showed Pepper the photos.”

“You saw those?” Steve asked and Tony shrugged. Steve looked around and sighed a bit. “Was never planning on settling down here, but things change.”

Tony wondered if the sentiment was in regards to his sister. More than likely it was but he chose to ignore it. He didn’t even want to think about the unsettling feeling he had when he thought about how Steve handled things all those years ago. “I wanted to come and talk to you about something.. Personal.”

Steve raised a brow and crossed his arms over his chest. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes and no,” Tony sighed. He sat himself down on the couch in Steve’s plainly decorated living room, and unbuttoned his jacket in the process. “Not sure if you are aware given you aren’t in the game anymore, but Natasha invited my sister back to the Compound.. And she said yes.”

“Natasha may have mentioned it,” Steve carefully said.

“Figured as much, “ Tony replied. “Which is great, fine with me. I know she’s been feeling stuck recently.. But something happened a couple weeks ago.”

Steve’s posture changed and it unsettled Tony. But he had to push that aside for now. This wasn’t about him and his feelings. “Is she okay?”

“I don’t know,” Tony answered in almost a whisper. Steve’s face visibly fell in a frown and concern. “She’s apparently been experiencing black outs. Aggression. I don’t know how to help her from so far away.. So I came to ask a favor.”

Steve nodded and took a step closer. “Whatever you need Tony.”

“Check in on her will you? But not in a prying way so she thinks I set you up to it.. Be a friend, “ Tony asked. Steve nodded and Tony stood, smoothing his clothes again. “Just please.. Let me know if something happens.”

“I promise,” Steve told him. He led Tony back to the door, opening it for him to exit. But Tony stopped after making it out to the hallway and turned back around pointing a finger at Steve’s chest.

“So help me Rogers.. Don’t go and mess with her feelings again or I will come here and finish what we started in Siberia.”

Steve didn’t even get a chance to respond before Tony slid his glasses back on and disappeared back towards the stairs. Instead Steve shut his door and stood there for a moment to think to himself. He was going to make sure he made it up not only to Tony, but to you.

This would be the start of something new.

- - - - - - - - - -

messy rushed taglist

@elliee1497 @iizabxlla @bulbasor-charmander-2020 @littlemoistcarrot @meraki–mei @littledaph @fckdusername @bisexuwhale9669 @mottergirl99 @vxidnik @anabutnotpro @ilovesupersoldiers @incorrect-artist @caseymcflurry @robindoesntloveme @cherryara @fightforspring @annetries @petlaufeyson @weasleyisourjedi @loganrwebb @marinettepotterandplagg @snarky–starky @emotionalcal @feelmyroarrrr @chewymoustachio @cass4nova @holy-rosewater @natdrunk @botchedzucchini @booksarebae2000 @chelseaxaz

#stark!reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x you #Steve Rogers x stark!reader #steve x reader #steve x you #steve rogers fic

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petals-and-bullets · 4 years

Text

Spirits I

Pairing: ? x Reader

Word count: 2874 words

Info: Please read the prologue before reading this fic! You can find the prologue here, and moodboards for Axl and Izzy’s birds here and here respectively! Maybe William and Jeff were bad influences on you. But maybe you wanted to let them be bad influences. Especially when you found yourself in LA.

A/N: This is another experimental piece; it’s an AU - everything is the same, albeit the fact that everyone has wings and can transform into birds. I will be answering questions in my ask box if anyone has any (please do send some in, it can help me clear up the lore a little better in my own mind while I’m writing!). I hope you enjoy it, and please do give me any feedback you have!

Tag List: @dustnbones @ubernoxa

Summers in Lafayette were almost always too warm. It made it impossible to do anything under the sweltering heat, and being forced to sit indoors for six hours a day never helped, either. Most of the things you were taught in school were useless, anyway, and any questions of why were always shrugged off with sighs and eyerolls.

It was official. You were going to be bored to death.

A flash of muddy yellow passed the window, and you perked up, tilting your head as you craned your neck to try and see the culprit – and of course it was William. You shook your head when his face appeared at the window, lips curled into a mischievous grin as he held up a packet of cigarettes. His hair clung to his face, and there was a streak of mud across his forehead; he’d obviously been digging again. Which probably meant that Jeff was somewhere near him – out of the three of you, Jeff was quite clearly the better digger. You supposed it made sense, considering he was a burrowing owl, but it was rare for him to indulge in William’s habits, and you flinched when William started to motion for you to join him outside.

It was difficult for you to say no to him; it always was. Even when you were both still chicks, with your wings only being covered in soft featherdown, William caused trouble and you were dragged into it with him. The only other chick that followed had been Jeff, but that was when he had dared to even appear from little burrows he used to dig in his mother’s garden. After another minute of William motioning for you to join him, you sighed and threw your hand in the air to catch your teacher’s attention. After a moment of almost begging the man with your eyes to allow you to use the bathroom, you grabbed the most inconspicuous parts of your belongings and hurried out. As soon as the door to the classroom was shut behind you, you shook your head and arms before closing your eyes and focused on shifting.

Most people used to tell horror stories about the first Spirits, the first changers. They used to say that their bones snapped in half, that their noses would stretch like Pinocchio and would contort into a beak, but to you, it wasn’t like that. It was a calming experience, with the only sensations being soft tingling as your body contorted into a small bundle of feathers. After lifting your belongings with your small feet, you fluttered down the hallway and through a slightly opened window, before you glanced around for William. The faint sound of tweeting caught your attention, and you flew towards it before you landed beside William. He merely stopped whistling and looked down at you with a mischievous grin, and you just knew that look spelled trouble. Evidently, you weren’t going to be going back into school for the rest of the day. After a moment, you rolled your eyes and changed back before you slapped William upside the head with a wing.

“Hey! What was that for?” He laughed, quickly ducking to avoid another slap. His deft hands quickly opened the small carton in his grasp before he offered a cigarette to you, his eyes twinkling with what could only be honestly described as mischief.

“You could’ve really warned me at the beginning of the school day, you know,” you bemoaned, but accepted the cigarette he offered and swiped the lighter from his pocket. You lit it as you leaned against him and sighed in bliss as his wing wrapped around you, the loose flecks of dirt tickling your nose, which made you wrinkle your nose.

“It was kinda impromptu. The old man left his cigarettes on the counter, and I figured they’d be the only way to bribe a certain owl out of his pit,” he muttered back, and you startled a little at just how deep his voice suddenly was. It wasn’t like you hadn’t expected it, but when he was singing with such a high pitch, it was only normal to expect his talking voice to be high. After a moment to recollect your thoughts, you rolled your eyes playfully and nudged him before you took a drag of the cigarette you held.

“Besides, aren’t you going to help me disturb the great and mighty Jeffrey from his pit?”

“I don’t like being disturbed,” a grumble emerged from the burrow before you, and a pair of grey eyes appeared within the darkness, a grimace painted on his features. A streak of dirt also graced his face, and you merely smiled before you offered the cigarette. After a moment of eyeing you suspiciously, a pale hand reached out and swiped the cigarette from your grasp, the lit end allowing you to see his face clearer, if only for a moment.

The three of you remained in silence while Jeff finished his cigarette, neither you or William wanting to disturb him. Ever since the three of you had discovered cigarettes, it rapidly became a past time for the three of you to just sit and enjoy each other’s company. As soon as the last drag was taken, Jeff climbed out of his burrow and sat in front of you and William, flicking the cigarette butt over his shoulder lazily while he stretched his wings out. He yawned and scratched his nose, but he clearly was prepared to actually have a conversation with the pair of you. You did consider just how in the hell Jeff hadn’t been removed from the school yet, your brow quirking at the thought. William’s parents would have a fit if they heard just what he had been doing exactly, and your own parents would be similar.

But Jeff’s? Well, they had more on their mind, you supposed.

“Are you seriously still trying to dye your feathers?”

“It’s a shitty yellow colour, man.”

“Will. C’mon. Dirt isn’t going to suddenly scare the yellow off.”

William rolled his eyes and you leaned back on your hands, quietly watching the interaction between the two boys with what could only be described as amusement. It was a daily conversation the two boys had, and yet it always ended in the same way. William would undoubtedly have some sort of fit, Jeff would roll his eyes and retreat into his burrow, and you would be left trying to calm the canary down. You sighed and braced yourself for William to lose his temper, but it never came. You dared a glance at Will and blinked at the pout on his face, only he never actually fought back against Izzy’s words; it was almost like he’d… Given up.

“I know. It still doesn’t mean I can’t try. Besides, lay off, would you? You’d think you were my old man, with the amount of bitching you’re doing at me,” he grumbled, his face contorting more into a grimace as he crossed his arms, before he sighed and looked back at the sky, leaning back as he pressed his wings against his back. Jeff merely raised a brow before he heaved a sigh and retreated back into his burrow, only to reappear with a small handful of dirt before he clambered behind you and William. After a moment, he sighed and shoved the dirt into William’s feathers, effectively hiding the colour of his feathers. Almost instinctively, William relaxed and allowed his wings to flutter a little, his hand reaching out to grasp your hand gently. Quietly, you wrapped your fingers around his and tightened your grasp, your eyes meeting his.

“… I’m leaving.”

“What?” You released William’s hand and turned to face Jeff with a look of shock, your eyebrows raised as your mouth hung open.

“I’m leavin’. As soon as we graduate, I’m skippin’ town, and I’m goin’ to LA,” he muttered, his brows furrowed as he focused on scrubbing the dirt into William’s wings, his tongue poking out from between his lips. Eventually, he sat back and moved to sit back in the entrance of his burrow, crossing his legs as he watched you and William.

“LA? As in, Los Angeles?” William questioned, his own brows furrowed as he grabbed your hand again, although you suspected that he was far less bothered about the news in comparison to you. William had always talked about leaving Lafayette, ever since you both were old enough to comprehend just what the word leaving meant. No doubt, he’d beg Izzy to take him with him.

“Yeah. Don’t you wanna come with me, Will? We can actually join a band. We can do something we wanna do,” Jeff’s eyes were alight with a sudden fire, his lips curled into a smile. It was a sight for sore eyes, and you struggled to remember a time when Jeff had last smiled in such genuine way. It was… Relieving. Almost. It still hadn’t changed the fact that Jeff was suddenly talking about leaving – and there was the chance Will would go with him. You weren’t prepared for such drastic changes, not when you were so close to graduating from high school.

“I… I can’t.”

You startled at his words, and you quickly looked at him with wide eyes. His lips had curved downward, and he was staring at his lap while fiddling with the loose hem of his shirt. He sighed softly through his nose and shook his head before he dared to look back up at Jeff, teasing his lower lip between his teeth. Evidently, he wanted to say otherwise, but it seemed like he was being held back by something; and you could only suppose that something was his family.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” Jeff hissed, his eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, his lips curling to expose his teeth.

“I can’t, man. Amy needs me, and-“

“So what, all this bitchin’ about how you wanna get out of this shitty ass town was for nothin’?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is-“

“Okay, that’s enough,” you interrupted, and you sat straighter when both boys turned to glare at you. It was rare for you to interrupt their bickering, as you always claimed you were far more mature than they were and just didn’t want to lower yourself to their level. But this time, you couldn’t stand to listen to Jeff lose his temper with Will for something that was, in your eyes, valid.

“It’s bullshit, Y/N! You know that it is! He keeps talking about how he can’t wait to leave, and yet he’s now sayin’ he can’t go when I’m offering him a way out?” Jeff snapped, and you flinched back at the murderous glare in his eyes. For once, you understood why the younger kids in school avoided Jeff’s burrows – even when he’d long since abandoned them – and you merely closed your eyes to recollect your thoughts. Once you’d managed to find the courage to continue your argument, you opened your eyes and realised it was already too late.

William scrunched up his nose and glared at Jeff before he turned. It always was slightly amusing that William, a guy with such a loud personality, was such a small bird – but you stifled your look of amusement as you watched him fly off, his small body still covered in the dust and grime that he’d scrubbed into his feathers.

“Fuck him.”

“Jeff, you can’t say that.”

“Yes, I can. Fuck. Him. Y/N, you’re coming to LA with me, right?”

You hesitated, and idly brought one hand to your wing as you scratched at the feathers nervously, your mind running in overdrive. What would you lose if you did go with him? It’d be hard, sure. The pair of you barely had any experience working, but deep down, you knew that Jeff would take care of you. He always had. After a moment of staring at each other, you sighed and nodded, reaching out to take his filthy hand into yours.

“Okay.”

That had been nearly a year ago. A year since you’d decided to up and leave Lafayette, with barely anything but the savings your parents had hoped you’d use for college and some clothing. And Jeff. Well, he’d announced his name was Izzy on the way to LA, in the cab of his barely-running pickup that his mother had given him, his eyes glinting with a light that could only be described as pride.

You left behind a lot of things, and yet you felt the guiltiest about leaving Will behind. He had come to bid you farewell, his hair tied back in a bun as his face was set in a grimace in an attempt to hide his tears, but he and Jeff – Izzy – barely looked at each other, let alone dared to say another word to each other. It was almost like the two had just given up on their friendship, and it took everything in you to not slam their heads together in the hopes their common sense would return. Instead, you’d merely hugged him and promised to keep in touch – which he had accepted with a sniff and a nod of the head.

LA was everything you had dreamed of, and more. It was loud, it was busy, and it was so much more different than Lafayette – and you loved it. Izzy seemed to be at home, with his style and music rapidly adapting and evolving to fit into the scene that the pair of you had found yourselves in. Your apartment was barely an apartment – it was a single room that you used as a bedroom, kitchen and living room, with the bathroom pretty much being nothing but a tiny room that may as well be a wardrobe. But it was enough for the pair of you, and it wasn’t too hard for you to find a job that could help bring in at least some money.

It was nothing much more than working as a cashier in the local gas station, but it was enough. Izzy, however, kept his employment to himself. Whenever you questioned him on it, he merely shrugged and grabbed his car keys before leaving you alone on the couch. You supposed that maybe he had been doing something illegal, which immediately caused you to become alarmed at the concept. Whenever he was late, you would sit and pick at your wings, letting feathers drop around you as you allowed yourself to worry about what could’ve happened to Izzy. He could’ve been arrested. Or worse.

You looked up quickly at the sound of Izzy’s keys in the door, and sure enough, he stepped in, a cigarette placed delicately between his teeth. He merely winked at you when he noticed your presence before he kicked the door shut behind him, dropping his wallet on the side table. He dropped down beside you and leaned back with a sigh, closing his eyes.

“… Long day?” You asked softly as you turned to look at him, reaching out to gently scratch at his wings. He merely hummed and took a drag of his cigarette before he quirked a brow, his lips curving into a smirk before he stood and offered the cigarette to you. You took it, and took a drag before you laughed a little as a pillow was thrown your way – Izzy was clearly going to build a burrow with the multitudes of pillows and blankets he had collected. While LA was a jungle of buildings, there was no room for digging burrows. Not for an owl like Izzy. And it took its toll on him when he was stressed, so the pair of you had taken to making a burrow out of the pillows and blankets. It happened rarely now, but at times it had gotten too much for him.

Once he was satisfied with what he constructed, he climbed into the burrow with you and wrapped you close, his wings securely bundling you against his chest. You offered the cigarette to him again, and he quietly leaned forward to take a drag, his eyes fluttering closed. After a moment, he exhaled and rested his head on yours, his fingers running down your wings gently.

“… Got a call today,” he eventually murmured after about an hour of silent cuddling, and you shifted to look up at him quietly.

“Will… Well, his name’s Axl now. He’s comin’.”

“To LA?”

“Yeah. Guess his old man got sick of him and kicked him out.”

You hummed softly and yawned, before you smiled. William was coming – and that meant that it was going to be just like it was in your childhood; the three of you against the world.

“I wonder if he still scrubs dirt into his feathers,” Izzy mused, and he snorted softly at the thought. You rolled your eyes as you reached out to stub the cigarette into the ashtray nearby. It was almost soothing to think about, and you allowed yourself to be pulled more against Izzy’s chest as you yawned again, your eyes slowly drifting shut.

You supposed you could interrogate Izzy about why he was late in the morning.

#SpiritsAU #guns n roses #gnr #guns n roses au #guns n roses fanfic #gnr au #gnr fanfic #Izzy Stradlin #Axl Rose #izzy stradlin x reader #axl rose x reader #reader

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dhwty-writes · 4 years

Text

Chapter 7 - A Broken Sword

After that delightful dose of fluff last chapter I can assure you that we are now returning to our angsty scheduled program. Thanks to @persony-pepper for betaing. Have fun reading!

Summary: Ciri and Jaskier are getting along better by the minute. The Viscount and Geralt, however, can't seem to find common ground.

Read on AO3

Part 1 | Part 7 | Part 9

In general, things got better in Lettenhove. Geralt didn't know what Ciri and Jaskier had done that afternoon before he had found them in Jaskier's nursery, but whatever it was, he wasn't about to complain. Because by some kind of miracle it made Ciri laugh and Jaskier talk — not to him, of course, but that was another story. Even Janina had stopped insulting him at every turn.

On a personal and petty level, though, things got worse. It was stupid. He knew it was stupid. But Ciri had spent an entire afternoon with Jaskier, she even got to call him Jaskier. She had even gotten him to call Geralt by his name; he hadn't even known how much he'd missed that, and yet— And yet. And yet, she refused to talk about whatever had transpired that day besides that Jaskier had told her some stupid story about some stupid hero.

It had been a week and yet every time he tried to coax the actual story out of her, she responded with: "Jaskier said, if you don't know it, it is not his place to tell me what happened. So, it is not my place to tell you what happened."

It was stupid. It was ridiculous. It was infuriating.

Not only had Jaskier stolen his child surprise, but he was also feeling more like an outsider than ever. Before, it had been Ciri and him who were obviously encroaching into the ancestral home of the Lord and Ladies Pankratz, their mere presence at the dinner table an unwelcome intrusion of the familiar rhythm the three siblings followed. Now, with Ciri animatedly chatting with both Jaskier and Józefa, he grew more uneasy every day.

From time to time he even played with the thought to leave. With a good enough horse, he might still make it to Kaer Morhen before the Trail became impassable. He could leave Ciri here for the winter and return for her come spring. He trusted Jaskier not to sell her out. But then again, Jaskier was no warrior. He might have changed a lot but not that much. If Ciri would be attacked he wouldn’t be able to defend her. He couldn’t leave— it was just wishful thinking.

To make things worse, Jaskier's attitude towards him didn't improve one bit. He probably could handle not being talked to; after all, he had wished for blessed silence long enough. It was the little things that made Geralt lose his mind. Like how Jaskier still insisted on calling him 'witcher' most of the time. Or how he had no qualms ordering Geralt around like one of his guards. Or that he just burst into Geralt's room one day while he was telling Ciri a story and triumphantly declared: "I have thought of a solution!"

"You can't just barge into rooms without knocking," Geralt growled.

The comment made Jaskier frown, as if he was thoroughly confused by it. "You're mistaken, witcher," he said and Ciri giggled. "I can go wherever I want, whenever I want. This is my castle, after all." He winked at Ciri and she laughed louder as if they were privy to some kind of joke Geralt didn't understand.

'Nobles.' He ground his teeth. There was a reason why he avoided aristocrats like the plague. How on earth had he managed two collect two of them? And why on earth stared the two of them at him as if they were waiting for something? Geralt sighed: "What solution, my lord?"

"We will dye Ciri's hair!"

Ciri shrieked and attempted to scramble out of Geralt's lap, but he quickly caught her and pulled her back. "Not so fast, cublet," he said and dangled her from her ankle upside down, before he turned to Jaskier: "I beg your pardon?"

“We will dye her hair,” he repeated.

“Why?” Geralt asked and Jaskier rolled his eyes.

"To better hide her," he said very slowly as if talking to a particularly stupid child. "A lot of people know — or know of — the ashen-haired Princess of Cintra, who was claimed as child surprise by Geralt of Rivia, who was foolishly immortalised for his white hair and is known to be my friend. I will try to shield her from view as much as I can but I can't lock her up for the whole winter. And pray tell, how suspicious do you think it would be to have a 'cousin' no-one has ever heard of, who fits the description perfectly, arrive with you at my home, witcher? Hm? That is disaster waiting to happen."

"So?"

Jaskier rolled his eyes at him. "So, I have had a nice little potion brought in that will dye our dear lion cub's hair in a lovely shade of chestnut brown that quite resembles mine if I do say so myself."

Geralt snorted and put Ciri down onto her feet again. "Why, because you hide your grey hairs with that?"

The moment the words left his mouth, he knew he had made a mistake. "That is none of your concern, witcher," the viscount answered and Geralt cursed silently. He couldn't quite get used to the no-jokes-about-the-viscount-allowed-policy in Lettenhove. They hadn't really talked about it — then again, what had they really talked about since his arrival? — but Jaskier enforced this unspoken law with an iron fist. The fact that Ciri seemed to be exempt — the only exception besides Józefa — didn't make it any better. Every time he saw her joking with Jaskier, both of them gently teasing each other mercilessly, he ached to join in.

Sometimes, their antics were enough to make his unyielding discipline waver, sometimes Jaskier's ramblings were. Every time he slipped up it was like starting over again. He cast his eyes downwards. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Pardon, I didn't quite catch that," Jaskier retorted with that particular voice of his he used so often nowadays. Geralt still couldn't quite place its meaning.

"I'm sorry, my lord," he gritted out, swallowing down his pride and the bitter taste the address left in his mouth alike.

"You shall be forgiven," he answered politely and paused before adding: "In due time. Ciri, come with me?"

This time he didn't stop her when she wriggled out of his grasp and ran over to their host. He felt miserable just sitting there as the door closed behind them. Still, he couldn't quite stop himself from listening when Ciri squealed: "You're cruel."

He almost didn't catch Jaskier's reply: "Probably. But did you see his face?"

Even four days after he couldn't get used to seeing Ciri with dark hair. She had returned a few hours later to him, her hair still wet from washing the excess dye out. Like that it looked so dark it might as well be black. But Jaskier had been right: dried, it resembled his own hair colour very much.

He couldn't forget the little exchange he had overheard between Jaskier and Ciri either. He tried to avoid the word ‘eavesdropping’ when thinking about it — that wasn't really what he had been doing. Normally, they waited until they were out of earshot, even a witcher’s, before they started talking. That time they hadn't. He couldn't very well shut his ears. Which meant that he couldn't quite shake the feeling that he had been supposed to hear it. But if that was the case, he couldn't figure out why.

He itched to ask them but he couldn't really do that. Because if he hadn't been supposed to hear that he had been eavesdropping — a crime Jaskier formerly would have punished with a light slap on his wrist and some silly moniker. 'Scamp', maybe, or 'rogue' or perhaps even 'scoundrel'. Now, however… And he couldn't ask Ciri either. In the best case, she'd tell him she couldn't tell him again. In the worst case she'd tell Jaskier.

He was mulling over that question again, watching Ciri out of the corner of his eye as she balanced on the railing of the gallery when his thoughts were interrupted by a loud shout: "Ci- Fiona!" Jaskier rushed out into the courtyard without so much as a cloak to protect him from the dropping temperatures and stared up at his child surprise in horror. "What are you-" He turned to Geralt, seething with anger. "What is she doing up there?"

"Training," he answered matter-of-factly.

"Training?!" his voice cracked. "What do you mean, training? I thought you were teaching her how to wield a sword!"

"And I thought you weren't watching," he replied before thinking the better of it.

"That is not the point! This is not teaching her how to wield a sword, witcher! This is dangerous! What if she falls?"

"She won't," he insisted stubbornly. He had her balance on all kinds of narrow paths before, though none of them in such heights. Only when she had mastered the previous paths had he allowed her up the railing.

"What if she does?"

"That's why I'm watching her," Geralt growled and moved to brush past him. He was no idiot. He wouldn't let her fall. "Get out of the way, bard, you're blocking my line of sight."

Jaskier didn't want to hear any of that: "Get her down from there, now!"

"Jas-"

"Now, witcher!"

"My lord-"

Jaskier yelped as Ciri stumbled and flailed with her arms. Geralt pushed past him, ready to catch his child surprise. A smug grin spread on his face as she regained her balance quickly. With agile movements she finished walking and came rushing down the stairs.

"Jaskier!" she exclaimed happily, skipping over to them. "Did you see me?"

The bard in question nodded, paler than a death shroud and gasping for air as if he had been the one stalking the balustrade. 'Always so dramatic,' he thought and rolled his eyes. "I did, darling, you did wonderful," Jaskier patted her on the shoulder and forced a smile.

"Look at what Geralt taught me yesterday!" Without hesitating she did a handstand and began walking on her hands before closing with a cartwheel. With rosy cheeks she turned to them. "Will you watch?"

"I-" Jaskier faltered. Geralt could see him agonising over it. 'Ha!' he thought smugly. 'He's as much under her charm as I am.' It would have warmed his heart if not for the stink of vinegar, infected wounds and peppers in the air. "Sure," Jaskier said finally. "For a bit."

Her face lit up as she turned back to Geralt. "Can I do the barrels next?"

He waved his hand in permission and watched her run off. "Barrels?" Jaskier gasped. "What barre- sweet Melitele have mercy!" The stench of vinegar was strong enough to make Geralt gag. "Does she do that all the time?"

"She does," he agreed and watched Ciri clamber up the barrels of ale that had been transported in a few days ago. They had quickly been included into their daily routine.

"What if she trips?"

"My lord," Geralt sighed heavily.

"Witcher."

"You have just seen her walk over a railing that is thinner than her feet are wide. She won't trip."

"Geralt!" Ciri called for their attention. "Jaskier! Look!" She was doing a handstand on the highest barrel now and Jaskier blanched again.

"Oh, no, child, that's-", he cried.

"Don't get cocky, now!" Geralt added. "Or else-"

"I'll become a prick like Lambert, I know," she answered and stood upright again. He did his best to ignore the pointed glare Jaskier gave him. "I'll just balance over here real quick- Shit!"

It happened far too quickly for either of them to react. Ciri's foot caught on something and then she stumbled into the four feet of thin air below her. By the time Geralt was running towards her she was already lying on the floor, clutching her right ankle tightly. Pride welled up inside him to see that no tears stained her cheeks. "Are you alright?" he asked and tried to scoop her up.

She cried in pain as he touched her, and now there were tears and he felt horrible. "It hurts!" she complained.

"I told you to be careful," he chided, "I told you not to get cocky!"

"Am I becoming a prick now?" she asked so earnestly that it made him laugh. "No!" she sobbed harder. "Don't laugh! It hurts!"

"I won't, I won't," he reassured her quickly, trying to regain his composure. "Show me where?"

He barely registered Jaskier shouting while Ciri pointed at her right ankle. And her right arm. And her right shoulder. Her whole right side basically.

"Borys, don't stare and make yourself useful!" the viscount bellowed, "Take a horse and go get Wera- No, you idiot! Take two horses! Marin!"

"Yes, my lord."

"I'll have these barrels removed! Now!"

"At once, my lord."

"You know what? I'll have any climbable structure that could pose a threat to a ten-year old child removed."

"The stables too, my lord?"

“The stables- I- No, of course not, you imbecile!”

“Just checking, my lord.”

"Marin."

"Yes, my lord?" There was a pause. Geralt imagined Jaskier giving Marin a very stern look but he was too busy checking for injuries to look up. "No jokes, understood. Alright men, you heard his lordship!"

Jaskier fell to his knees next to Geralt. "Ci- Fiona, my dear, how are you feeling?" he asked anxiously, the scent of vinegar spiking again.

"I'm fine," Ciri sniffled. "But my foot hurts."

"Yeah, I don't doubt that... You!" He pointed at a passing servant. "Bandages and cold water. Now!" Jaskier shooed Geralt off and turned back to Ciri, carefully peeling the sleeve of her tunic away. "Here, let me see- ohh, that doesn't look good."

She gasped. "What is it?"

He frowned deeply. "I fear we'll have to lop it off. There's just no saving it..."

She shrieked and giggled. "That's not true! Geralt, tell me that's not true!"

He did his best to maintain a straight face: "No, he's completely right. I've had griffin bites smaller than that."

"An infected wound is a serious business, little one," Jaskier added. "Best not take any risks."

"Yeah, with a scrape as bad as this... best take preemptive measures-"

She made a very rude gesture at them. "You're horrible." Geralt scoffed and to his surprise Jaskier snickered. He hadn't heard him laugh since their arrival. Ciri shoved both of them hard. Jaskier at least had the courtesy to fall over.

"Now that's not true," Geralt said as Jaskier answered: "Anything to make you laugh, darling girl."

"I hate you," she pouted, "both of you."

"Say that again and you're grounded for the rest of the week, young lady. Melitele knows you need the bedrest..."

"I'm fine!" Ciri insisted stubbornly and sprung to her feet to show it. Geralt was impressed that she didn't even wince.

"You are fine when Wera says you are. Sit down and wait here for her. I need to borrow my witcher for a bit."

She frowned. "But I'm not finished, yet!" she insisted.

"Yes, you are," Geralt agreed with Jaskier. "You can't fight like that."

"You do!" she replied and he cursed quietly.

"Another reason why I need a word with him," Jaskier said and stared at Geralt angrily. "You can continue tomorrow, dear child, if Wera allows it. This is important."

"Is this one of those grown-up talks?" She wrinkled her nose. "If so, I don't want to see that."

Jaskier took a shuddering breath. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, exactly. Marta!" He waved for the servant to come over. "Go and draw Fiona a bath, Melitele knows she needs one. And then you just... take the day off, hm? Read a bit. Or have Marta help you over to see Józefa. I believe she's almost done with the cartoon for her tapestry."

Ciri scowled at him before letting Marta support her in order to limp back to the South Wing, muttering ‘Grown-ups are weird’ as she went.

As soon as the door to the well house shut behind them, Jaskier turned to him, his voice sharp as razor blades: "My study," he ordered. "Now."

Geralt narrowed his eyes and ground his teeth but still he followed him when he turned back to the East Wing. The way up the stairs, spent in complete silence, was torture. Every step poisoned the air more with the horrid stench of vinegar-fear and peppery anger.

It made Geralt want to retch as an icy hand grasped his own heart. He knew the fiery taste of Jaskier's fury well enough. Usually it appeared on his behalf, not because of him. That alone was worrying, but the truly terrifying thing was the sour stench that came with panic. Jaskier never smelled of fear in his presence: not upon their first meeting, not when facing elves and djinns and angry Yennefers. Not even with the prospect of walking down a deadly mountain trail all on his own. 'What have I done that he fears me?' he asked himself. 'What have I done that he no longer feels safe in my presence?'

His thoughts were interrupted with the doors slamming shut behind him. "What were you thinking?" Jaskier shouted and the spice flared again. "Climbing barrels, Geralt? Really? Were you even thinking, you absolute idiot?"

"I am training her," Geralt answered simply.

"You were endangering her!" He whipped around, his chest heaving heavily. "You're supposed to keep her out of harm's way, not thrust her in it!"

"Calm down. She only twisted her ankle. That happens all the time."

"And scraped her whole arm open! And her side probably, too! She could have broken something!"

"But she hasn't. She was just overexcited because you were watching. Normally she knows to be careful."

"She is a ten-year-old girl, Geralt! She has no sense of self-preservation."

"Funny, hearing that from you."

Jaskier scoffed and crossed his arms. "That doesn't matter right now. You can't have her climbing unstable barrels and balancing fourteen feet above the ground! She could die if she fell!"

"You're exaggerating. The railing's not fourteen feet high."

"For once in my life I am not! Fuck, Geralt, sometimes I wonder if you have a conception of humans at all. She's a child, not a witcher!"

"At Kaer Morhen-" he tried.

"We are not at Kaer Morhen!" Jaskier interrupted him. "Haven't you noticed? We are not there because the mere way up there is deadly to humans when it is too cold! You are in Lettenhove for precisely that reason! And as the lord of this castle, I will not tolerate it!"

He crossed his arms and scoffed. "Are you now going to tell me how to train her?"

Jaskier's face was unmoving, his voice cold as stone: "Precisely."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You are being dramatic, my lord."

"No. No, I am not! Have you seen her bruises? I think there is not a single unmarked spot on her body! I don't even know how she can sleep at night!"

"Children are resilient. Besides, a few bruises don't harm anyone."

"Yes, they do!" There was the slightest quiver in Jaskier's voice that made Geralt falter. "Not everyone is like you and likes getting beat up!"

"She'll be fine," he said a bit more cautiously. "Everyone who learns how to fight goes through that. They all come around."

"No, they don't!" Jaskier's voice broke weakly, a broken sob ripping free of him that made him want to come closer and flee at the same time. "I didn't! I hate it! I hated it as a child and I hate it now and I will always hate it! Do not do the same to her!"

Geralt stared at Jaskier. What else was there he could do while the tears fell helplessly, staining his cheeks and dripping on his silken doublet. "I'm sorry," Geralt said finally, still trying to process his words. Now that he came to think of it, that was probably the most Jaskier had ever revealed to him about his life before leaving for Oxenfurt. Melitele’s tits, he hadn’t even been aware that Lettenhove was in Redania until recently. It was a shocking realisation, that he didn’t know anything about Jaskier’s childhood at all. "I didn't mean to, Jas-"

“‘I didn't mean to, my lord,’" he spat and turned away, "Get that into that thick head of yours already." The scent of spicy anger and salty-teared sadness was thick in the air.

"My lord," he tried again, tentatively reaching out, but Jaskier only recoiled even more.

"Go away," he murmured, his voice thick with tears, "I don't want to see you anymore."

Geralt tensed. He wanted nothing more than to make it better, to take his words back, quell the tears and smother the scent that reeked like a dusty mountaintop littered with corpses. 'I'm just trying to figure out what pleases me.' Maybe- "It would please me-"

"But it wouldn't please me!" Jaskier snapped. "Leave already!"

He hesitated for a few heartbeats, hoping that Jaskier would change his mind. He didn't. "Right," Geralt said quietly. "As my lord commands." He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

Not knowing what else to do, Geralt crossed over to the South Wing again to see if Ciri was alright. But as soon as he opened the door to Ciri's room, he heard a decided: "Out!" The old healer sat on the bed with Ciri, fussing over her injuries - to his shame, they looked a lot worse than he had anticipated.

"I just-" he began, but Wera interrupted him: "No. Out. You can see her when I am done."

He quickly glanced at Ciri, who smiled encouragingly. "Don't worry," she said, "I'll be fine."

"Fine," he muttered, and walked out of the room again. This day was not going as he had planned it.

He was still scowling when he reached the courtyard again, where they were still busy stowing away anything Ciri could climb. He snarled and moved to turn away, when he heard a familiar voice behind him: "So," Marin said, "you're an idiot. That's a surprise."

"What?" he snapped and whipped around. "I'm not-"

"Yes, you are. Because his lordship's right. That was bloody dangerous."

He snarled and turned away, pacing as vinegar filled the air around him. He didn't need another one telling him what to do. It had been fine until Jaskier had put his nose in places where it didn't belong.

"Geralt." He forced himself to still at Marin's firm voice behind him and grunted. "You're scaring the folks."

"I know," he growled, "I can smell it. Nothing I can do about it, is there?"

The Captain of the Guard shrugged. "Well, you could stop growling at everyone who walks past you. Grab an axe and finish that tree you massacred. Kill a monster or two. Spar with me."

"There're no monsters in Lettenhove," he answered.

"No, there's not. But I've heard news from Saltwall. That's a town a day and a half's ride from here. Apparently, they are having trouble with some necrophages or something."

He wanted to snap that that could mean anything but thought the better of it. "I don't have my armour. Or my sword."

Marin blinked stupidly. "What do you mean? Hasn't his lordship told you? They were brought in from Goldfurt four days ago."

Now it was Geralt who blinked. "No. He hasn't."

He shrugged. "I'll have it sent to your room. You go and look after Lady Fiona now. Wera will be done by now."

"Hmm," Geralt made and turned back to the South Wing. Before he could go inside, he said: "Thanks." He didn't wait for an answer. Instead he just rushed up the stairs, taking two steps at once.

Marin had the right of it; when he opened the door to Ciri's room, the old healer was gone. It was just the princess on the bed, reading a book. "How's princess Isabella the Brave?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes at him. "I read that yesterday, Geralt. This one's about Sir Bartel the Strong."

"My apologies," he said quickly. He had long given up trying to keep track of the various heroes the novels dealt with — he had no doubts that she would have made her way through the entire collection before midwinter. He poked her in her side and made her squirm. "How's this princess, then?"

"I'm fine," she assured him and giggled. "My ankle has almost stopped hurting."

"And the arm? Still attached to your shoulder, I see."

Ciri stuck out her tongue. "All bandaged up. And the salve stinks."

“Hmm,” he made. "Then it helps."

"That's what Wera said, too! Is that another stupid grown-up thing?"

He smiled a bit. "Probably. I-"

There was a knock on the door that made both of them jump. "Come in!" Ciri called.

The door opened to reveal one of the younger guardsmen in Jaskier's employ. "I, uh- Marin told me to bring this to you, Sir Witcher."

Geralt raised his eyebrows in amusement and snorted when he saw the boy struggling with the pack of armour and the silver sword in his arms. He stood and strode over to him, relieving him of his heavy burden. "Thanks. That'll be all," he said and shut the door in his face.

Gently he placed the armour on the floor — it was even polished — and passed his fingers over the new scabbard of his sword. With one swift stroke he pulled it free, turning to see the blade gleaming in the sunlight. It was marvellously crafted, not a single unevenness to be found. 'It must've cost him a fortune,' he thought stunned.

Ciri's voice ripped him back to the present: "You're leaving, aren't you?"

He sighed. He had planned to be sensible about this. That was no use now. "For a while."

She turned back to her book. "I understand," she said. "You can't train me now anyways. Just be back as soon as I can walk again."

"I will be back far sooner than that," he promised her.

"That's good. Will you stay with me this evening?"

"Sure." He sat down on a chair beside her. "What do you want to do?"

"There are some games in the nightstand that Jaskier gave me."

He nodded and pulled one of the boards out. Following her instructions, he began setting up the pieces as he tried to remember the complicated rules she told him. In the end he lost most of the times they played, but at least it had made Ciri laugh.

He and Ciri didn't attend dinner, and neither did Jaskier, as he discovered when he went looking for him afterwards. "His lordship has already turned in for the night hours ago," Janina told him coldly when he found her and her sister in the fireplace room.

"He doesn't wish to be disturbed," Józefa added in the same tone. "By you."

Geralt hunched his shoulders and retreated out of the room. He wasn't particularly looking forward to talking to Jaskier, especially not when his company was obviously unwanted. On the other hand, he'd rather get out of the castle sooner than later. So, he ignored the warning and climbed the stairs to the lord's chambers.

He took a steadying breath and rasped his knuckles on the door. "Come in." He pushed it open and stepped inside. Jaskier looked better now. His hair was still damp from bathing and he smelt of bath salts and chamomile tea. He was dressed in nothing but a green silk robe, sitting on his bed with some report or another. He normally only looked that relaxed when he had spent a night in a lover’s embrace. The room didn't smell of sex, though, and Geralt wasn't sure if he was surprised or relieved.

Jaskier barely looked up when Geralt stepped inside nor did he make any attempt to hide his bare chest from view. He did, however, pull at a few strands of his hair to try and hide his bloodshot eyes. Something in his stomach tightened. 'Now that's not fair.'

"Witcher?" Jaskier prompted.

'Ah. Still cross at me.' He cleared his throat. "My lord, there's a contract in the area."

"And?"

"I'm going to take it."

He hummed quietly, flipping his page over. "Maybe. If you ask nicely."

He suppressed a sigh. "Do I have your leave to take this contract, my lord?" After a while he added: "If it might please you."

The paper crumpled loudly in Geralt's ears when Jaskier gripped it tighter. “It doesn’t,” he said curtly and took his time reading the page. Then, he spoke up again: "I'll consider it."

With a frustrated huff he turned his back. It was no use arguing with Jaskier when he was angry.

"How long will you be?"

Geralt stopped in his tracks. "It isn't far from here. Saltwall, Marin said. Four days, maybe five."

The flipping of another page. "You leave at sunrise tomorrow, witcher. Take a horse that might suit your needs." There was a tiny pause. "Don't you dare be late."

A smile curled around his lips at the indignation in his voice. 'Missed you, Jaskier.' "I won't, my lord,” he promised. “Sleep well."

He closed the door behind him, the clicking of the lock nearly drowning out Jaskier's whisper: "Sleep well, my witcher. Return to me soon."

#My writing #of witchers bards and broken hearts #OWBABH #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #cirilla #geraskier fanfiction

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