Most of the dialogue options for the RT in game are so confident, so self-assured. It comes with the role, I suppose. But what about an RT who internally struggles with self-worth/self-esteem? How would the companions react if they found out?
it comes with the role, and it’s a bit tough to write protagonists now who aren’t reassured and confident and witty, especially for 40k. many 40k games/novels, and certain game genres in general, are power fantasies that are meant to inflict a feeling of fuck yeah, i’m great.
you can definitely make some cowardly decisions, like abandoning cassia in her painting, or running for your own safety during one of the bridge events, but that's not explicitly tied to self-worth or self-esteem, is it?
honestly, i think a lot of the iconoclast choices are closer, but not quite, to some potentially low self-worth options, as i've briefly discussed how i view the iconoclast as a sort of intentional martyr route here.
but, anyways, hmmm... !
abelard
not surprisingly, i think abelard handles it the best. even if you view him in a romantic light, abelards primary purpose both in game as a unit and from a writing perspective is to be supportive and defend the rogue trader.
if he finds out that the lord captain is struggling with self-worth, perhaps believing that they don't deserve the position they have, or that they will continually make wrong decisions, i think abelard sort of huffs, and slyly mentions how he won't let them.
they will make decisions, and some of these decisions might hurt people, or will go against what he [abelard] wants, but abelard is so stalwart and stands behind the rogue trader no matter what, and he supports their decisions. abelard lets you fucking execute his whole family, you know?
he encourages them to try and behave more like a rogue trader, and i do think he's a bit... harsher on non-female rts + older rts, based off how he is very defensive, protective, and excusing of the younger women in game, but he does genuinely want the best for them, regardless.
your seneschal is always by your side.
abelard will push and encourage them if they falter or stumble when speaking, or if they don't know what to do, or if they look like they might faint from the situation, he swoops in to save the day. that is his whole purpose, to help the rogue trader literally be the best rogue trader they can be.
argenta
flat out, i think argenta sort of sucks at this sort of stuff. she can be caring, and maternal, but i think she actually struggles with the concept of one of the emperor's chosen feeling like they are inadequate or lacking in self-worth. in her eyes, the rogue trader is chosen, divinely blessed by the word of the emperor to lead, doesn't that mean that they should be confident in everything?
her god, the driving force behind her life, the most important thing in her life chose the rogue trader (well, the warrant and blood ties did but shhh), that should fill them with the confidence to conquer, to destroy heresy, to purge those who dare to smother his light.
some of this also could come from how argenta is also a character that is stumbling, but not from a lack of self worth. one of argentas flaws is actually her hubris, and her belief that she must be special, and has a special purpose given from the emperor. she moreso stumbles in regards to how she should view her actions, if they were worthy of a sororitas, and if they were righteous, or simply born out of hatred.
they both struggle, but in very different ways that might make communication awkward.
cassia
cassia is the type of character that might get locked into a feedback loop of how they are both types that struggle with self-esteem. for cassia, it is more physical, as she places a lot of pride on being a navigator, but obviously is tormented by her mutations and how they make her "ugly" (still a conventionally attractive woman, she's just pale, but in the universe of 40k, she would be considered ugly and a freak)
Cassia cringes ever so slightly, adjusts the adornment on her forehead, then awkwardly hides her clawed fingers in the folds of her clothes. The unnatural appearance of Navigators often becomes the topic of gossip among lowly servants and officers alike. It is clear that she does not feel comfortable aboard a ship teeming with new people.
there is, however, a moment with her when the rt can express a bit of connection to someone who is a little out of their depth, via going:
I understand what you are going through. My own life was turned upside down not too long ago.
is it still pretty confident? yeah, but, well, we take what we can get. anyway, i'm pretty sure cassia responds:
"Indeed? I… I did not know. That is to say, I could not have known, as it is the first time we are speaking in a circumstance so…" She glances around the room, growing somewhat sheepish. "…private. My word, when I found this place, it was so full of officers. Why did they all leave?"
but i think cassia does understand, somewhat. she has assurance in her purpose, to be a navigator, and carries a lot of pride about it, but still, it is... hard to look in the mirror and see your body mutating into a monster, coupled with how cassia very clearly consumes a lot of classic romantic literature, and rarely are women "ugly" (again, i do not think she is considered ugly in any universe but 40k) in those novels. always witty, charming, effortlessly pretty, and cassia is... not.
i think cassia could bond very deeply with a rogue trader that struggles with their self-worth, if they can get over her lack of practiced social skills.
romanced or not, this could create a deep moment of bonding with her. cassia and a romanced rogue trader discovering and becoming more confident via supporting each other? d'awww.
heinrix
so many asks on this blog go into heinrix and his low self-worth, so i won't discuss it too heavily. but overall, i think heinrix is similar to argenta in that he struggles to see the rogue trader and any part of them being worthless, especially if romanced.
if not romanced, i think he sort of side eyes them, and doesn't comment. he also doesn't grasp it in this scenario, as they are worthy, via right of blood. that is, literally, the rules of the warrant of trade. but it is not his job to babysit rogue traders, abelard has that oh so enviable position.
but if he is romanced, it's just. impossible really. he places them so heavily on a pedestal, they are his superior, someone he would willingly die for to ensure they live, the one who holds his leash, i think he cannot grasp them feeling worthless or lacking in self-worth.
even if they communicate it, and clearly ask for comfort, he struggles. i think he repeats what he feels, and is honest about how he views them, but if that truly comforts or helps the rogue trader is entirely up to each individual rogue traders. for some, it might make it worse.
he sucks at comforting, truly. look at commorragh when he listens, and then immediately blames himself for the situation. it's rough.
Your recounting takes a long time. When you finish, Heinrix is silent for several seconds. "So, the Drukhari thought that you were working with one of their accursed kind… and it was all because of Achilleas? It seems that I, among others, are responsible for us ending up here…"
idira
idira just makes a face. if the rogue trader feels like this, where does that place her on the worthiness ranking? hm...
i think she does try to comfort them, but it's difficult due to the large gulf of station that separates someone like idira and someone like the rogue trader.
jae
jae gasses the rogue trader the fuck up, absolutely. she's good at social communication, and i think she can at least earn a smile and a few giggles by the end of their talk. part of this is because jae is, genuinely and in a lot of ways, kind and helpful, but also some of this is because jae wants the rogue trader to be successful and confident because they are her patron.
and having an extremely powerful and confident patron means she will have more opportunities, and also offer her a sense of protection and security that is inherent to the strength that confidence brings, you know? it's definitely a mix of both things.
i think as well as, with the way mercy treated her, i think if jae and the rogue trader are involved in a romantic way, she's much more fierce and devoted to the whole gassing them up and making sure that they realize they are loved, and wanted, and worthy of both of those things, you know?
Jae takes a deep breath as though preparing to jump. "Because I was with him, before. He helped me relocate to the Expanse from the Calixis. And he helped me make a name for myself in the Mission, to become a Cold Trader, to take Cristo's place when he died… But it was more than that. He was my teacher. And my lover. He knew everything about my past… like you do now. I was with him for a long time, I belonged to him heart and soul, but later I wanted a different life, so I left. I can't say for certain that I didn't break his heart as I went."
+
Jae speaks her next, carefully chosen, words with heavy solemnity: "I can't rule out the possibility that at the end of this meeting I will be… burdened with certain ties to Mercy. It will not be of my choosing. I doubt he'll force me to leave your retinue, but he will expect my loyalty. He will want to control me… in every sense. And he won't like the thought of sharing me with you. You and I, our relationship, I don't know if it matters to you, but it would be craven of me not to warn you."
the line of "He will want to control me... in every sense." is fucking insane to me, and jae is a character so associated with freedom, i imagine this control absolutely wrecked her owns self-esteem for a little, and is partly why she is so flighty with the rogue trader at the start of their relationship: she doesn't want a repeat of that abusive relationship.
so i do think she gets it, yeah?
kibellah
similar to argenta and heinrix, kibellah cannot grasp her domin feeling unworthy or shitty. they are the sun to her universe, her reason for existing, the one she is sworn to protect. the lord/lady/liege of the ark, like-
she will never view them in such a way, romanced or not, and already has such poor social skills i'm not sure if she truly helps with it, but she will always view them as worth, at least...?
marazhai
marazhai exploits this if he's dominating, or he's frustrated/disgusted by it if he's "submitting." or unromanced.
for dominating, oh, wouldn't that just be wonderful? yes, you are worthless without me. yes, you cannot do anything on your own. be dependent on me, be obsessed with me, i control you, i will make sure you make good choices (choices that all seem to benefit him the most)
marazhai grasps them by the chin, looks at their tormented and agonized face after hearing all of this, and waits for them to obediently nod.
good mon-keigh.
he's shitty, but at least he's honest about it, i suppose. he adores rogue traders with easily exploited flaws, something he can dig his clawed nails into and peel the rogue trade apart via using and abusing this flaw in their armour. it fills him with a sexual thrill, absolutely, when the rogue trader breaks down in front of him.
for when he's submitting, bah, i think he's so bored! come on, you need to be confident! take control! do everything right and dominate him. ugh, this is so dull...
and if he's not romanced, i don't think he even listens to them recounting their problems unless it's to mock them further. little bastard.
pasqal
pasqals vox squeals out:
"This statement is false. Unit designated as Von Valancius is a high-value, high-priority unit."
and then he turns away to whatever he was doing before. thanks...?
even romanced, i think his reaction is the same.
solomorne
i don't think sol quite gets this until later on, in the sense that sol is a confident person, or at least self assured. he knows the path he wants to walk, for a little, and knows his purpose is assured. i think it's only when he realizes an organization that he placed so much of himself in, and connected to so deeply (both due to his indoctrination during schooling, but also influence from his father, who walked the same path) is actively harming his chances at happiness, and fulfillment, and indeed, even the concept of justice itself, something he prizes, does he shatter a little and connect and understand deeply with what the rogue trader might be feeling.
before that, he can empathize, and he does understand. sometimes people need a bit of a push, or support from others to know what to do and where to step. solomorne operates in squads, he knows that some people need support in various areas. granted, some of this is moreso for combat, but he gets it.
i think sol is comforting, and kind, and gentle. he is so deeply in love with the rogue trader, but also doesn't idolize them to insane amounts like heinrix does.
he acknowledges they are a person, and a person with flaws and weaknesses (just like how he learns he also has weaknesses himself) and he can help, and communicate that he deeply wants to help, they just need to tell him what they need, and he will do it perfectly. he states he loves doing things perfectly, afterall:
"Everything I do, I aim to do well." Solomorne's eyes crease as he draws out an intricate passage from the instrument with one hand while tucking the other behind his back. "Perfectly, even."
solomorne is so inherently romantic, and so caring, so he adjusts and does what he can for them. they supported him for so long while he stumbled around, especially after commorragh, surely he can do this for them.
ulfar
ulfar snorts, and barks out that his aett-vater was chosen for a reason! you are worthy, he would not pick some worthless commander, some snot-nosed brat that hasn't seen combat, and yet acts like they are a jarl.
i think he's much softer to a romanced rogue trader, but operates on much the same wavelength. they are worthy, he would not pick an unworthy mate. he rubs their back, and presses them tight against him. he will make them realize, yes, with every fiber of his being he will.
yrliet
yrliet is also a character that stumbles, but is also deeply introspective. i think she could offer a lot in regards to this sort of discussion, but i simply don't have enough thoughts about her to offer anything meaningful.
inspekchin asks huh (takes drag of cigarette) i feel like we all talk a lot abt how capo feels about inspekta/hector, but im curious to hear the reverse: how has inspekta/hector felt about capochin over the years?
EYES GLOWING RED. GOD. GODDDDD…
Okay so my thoughts about Inspekta/Hector’s views on Capochin aren’t as in-depth compared to Capo’s, but god i think it’s interesting thinking about his views on him…
So pre-godhood Hector found Capochin in an alley probably dying badly, brought him into his home, now they’re roomies yadda yadda u know the deal. I think at first Hector felt kinda awkward around him. Since he was so used to being on his own for the past few years, and now suddenly he brought this guy he only met like 2 seconds ago into his home. But I think he realized that Capochin was in a somewhat similar position as him and he didn’t want to leave him on his own, so yea yay they ended up growing closer and realized how important they were to each other. Capo can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, but Hector kinda likes that (for reasons) and Capochin knows when to turn down his snarkiness around him. The two of them just work off one another pretty well, and Capochin was someone who helped encourage Hector to really pursue in his Bizzyboy efforts; mostly due to how Hects literally saved him from certain death when they first met.
Also Capochin keeps making him tasty yummy meals everyday so YAAAY YUM DOT COM!!!!!!! Everything’s okay.
So yea, Hector lauves him and they’re kinda gay or something but they dont gotta worry about that until a few more years pass lol.
NOW WITH INSPEKTA. I feel like in Inspekta’s early years he still feels this way towards Capochin, but is a lot more conscious about how he’s a god and Capochin’s still a regular person, and there’s always going to be that difference between them. Capo’s a shoulder for him to lean on when things get stressful, someone who he could talk to, feel comfortable around, and human with since they’ve known each other for so long. Once again, he lauves him.
As things Start Going Bad for Speks, he becomes more dependent on Capochin’s trust and loyalty since he believes that he’s the only person he could trust to be by his side, for now at least. And with Capochin’s more enabling behavior and how he’s willing to go along with Inspekta’s impulsive plans simply because he doesn’t want to seem like he’s betraying his god or doubting his decisions, it kinda just leads to an endless feedback loop of Inspekta giving Capochin orders because he knows he’ll follow them without question, and Capochin going through with those orders because of how he doesn’t want it to seems as though his devotion to Inspekta is faulting + he may end up being rewarded for his pure loyalty. THESE FUCKING GUYYSSSS AUGH….
Aside from that stuff, I think that during this era, Inspekta starts seeing Capochin less like an actual person and more of like… an asset or something. Like, that’s Capochin; my right hand man, my cheffie, my touy, the guy who’s here to help me no matter what. Though this is less of a Capochin specific thing, but kinda relating to how Inspekta isolating himself causes him to not really see other people As people, since he’s not really talking, interacting, or getting to know em that well anymore. He knows exactly what would distress and upset the other gods because he knew them for decades. He was their friend for so long and he’s kept track of all that type of stuff. But due to his spiraling, those friends instantly became obstacles in his mind (and that view of them only worsened thanks to Capochin’s enabling, hashtag awesome).
Circling back to Capochin, tho. I do think he does still care about Capochin as both his right-hand-man and as a friend, but sometimes that care can get overshadowed by his own fears, jealousy, plans, job as a god, all that typa stuff. And it doesn’t really help, again, with how much Capochin ends up enabling those thoughts of his, claiming that everything he’s doing is okay and that there’s nothing for him to worry about. Because when he’s the only god left, everything will be alright because he’s already perfect and amazing. And allll that just goes into Inspekta’s head.
Also Capochin keeps making him those blue yummy fuckin burgers everyday so YAAAY YUM DOT COM!!!!!!! Everything’s okay actually.
NOW. POST GAME. He’s got some complicated feelings about Capochin, mostly due to how he believes that Capo hates him forever now and tries his hardest to avoid him in case he blows up at him n stuff. Though they do constantly end up crossing paths unintentionally, simply because they live somewhat close to each other (and they live in each other’s heads rent free lmao). He is very overly apologetic towards Capochin whenever he sees him. Letting him know how sorry he was for everything; neglecting his needs, making him feel as though he needed to agree to all of Inspekta’s horrible plans, all that sorta stuff, along with how he understands if Capochin doesn’t forgive him after everything, and if he’d hate him forever, since he isn’t his god, his boss, or possibly his friend, so Hector really has no say in how Capochin feels about him.
However I do think at a certain point Hector gets tired of how Capochin, while still clearly upset at him, keeps making efforts to actually speak with him again. But instead of actually communicating whenever they meet up, they usually end up talking for a bit (after a couple of apologies from Hector, of course) and something said slightly bothers Capochin and he ends up blowing up at him and storming away. I think Hector’s slightly more patient compared to Capo, but after this shit happening like 5 different times Hector just grows more and more frustrated with Capochin and would prefer if he didn’t choose to meet up with him in the first place. That, along with how Capochin seems to put so much blame on Hector, but doesn’t seem to focus on how much he also contributed to Everything That Happened (I do think that Capochin does think about the shitty thing he’s done every moment of his life post-game, but doesn’t really communicate it well with Hector specifically because these old men have Problems and Issues with communication and everything they say could instantly lead to a bomb to go off and they start arguing for an hour just to regret it all soon afterwards).
However, despite all this mess, I do think that they eventually reach a point where they end up attempting to work out their issues, relearning how to be comfortable around one another, understanding all the shit they’ve been through together and how they ended up feeding into each other’s worst qualities those past 33 years. Of course they gotta go through fifty divorces during this period because they have Issues and Problems, but it could work out in the end I believe it….love endures….
Anyways when it comes to Good for Nothing Era Inspekchin I think they’d be the most annoying of roommates that are kinda gay ever. They’ve still got a pile of issues that they need to sort out, of course, but Hector genuinely appreciates Capochin for allowing him back into his life. They suck so much, but they suck…together <3
Also Capochin is still making him those (regular colored) yummy fuckin burgers and other meals and treats everyday so YAAAY YUM DOT COM!!!!!!! Everything’s okay actually for real now.
Crescent 1/? | Natasha Romanoff x MoonKnight!Reader
Summary: When Natasha Romanoff takes a job as head of security for Dina Jackson she has an ulterior motive- to find the tomb of Egyptian artifacts that the art world is racing for. Dina's disgraced niece is charming, awkward, and under the influence of Khonsu, the God of the Moon.
Warnings: Subtle Violence, Family disputes, scary bird diety, and probably horrible grammar.
[A/N: I'm working super super hard on this one, and would appreciate some feedback 😭 I also don't have a posting schedule and know that I have a million other fics going right now- but I couldn't help myself!]
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There was always a stillness to the air in the museum that was hard to find anywhere else, a soft scent of something old that lingered within the light that streamed through the windows. It was four floors of knowledge and wonder, and paintings that were slathered with vibrant colors yet to fade. Dinosaur bones that were reconstructed by hand, guarded with velvet ropes and motion sensors, mummies that crossed their decaying arms over their chests, dead crystal eyes sweeping the room.
You found solace here among other things, that kept you coming back day after day. Your hands were blackened by charcoal, the neckline of your t-shirt suffering a similar fate. That was a nervous habit that you kept, toying with the fabric as you struggled to capture the light shading on Lady Madja’s coffin.
There was a small spot that you often made your own, your back against the marble wall of the room, one leg folded to your chest while the other was outstretching in front of you. For reasons that you personally did not understand, not many people found interest in the same Egyptian exhibit that had been at your local museum since you were a child.
“Didn’t you draw that yesterday?”
“No,” you grumbled, making a dark slash against the far end of the coffin. “I drew the outer coffin of Tamutnefret. You work here, shouldn’t’ you know the difference?”
You glanced up at Tommy. He had his thumbs in his belt loops, limp next to his heavy flashlight. The security guard wasn’t armed with anything except for a discontent with his job and a walkie talkie that could trigger a silent alarm. No one had tried to burglarize Hell’s Kitchen’s least frequented place yet, but they kept him around just in case.
He scoffed “They pay me to make sure this stuff doesn’t’ vanish, not to know everything about it. You should apply for a position here, tour guide or something. At least you’d earn some money from sitting here all day.”
“I like being here. I don’t need to get paid.”
He blinked at you, brushing his silver-blonde hair of his eyes as if he had never actually heard that phase before. You closed your sketch book, folding the flimsy notebook and shoving it into your back pocket before standing. The place was pretty slow today, not a field trip in sight.
Truth was; A little extra money wouldn’t hurt. Of course, you had your art, your studio that had been operating in lower Manhattan for the better part of a year now. It was doing well, well enough for you to fund the three-dollar admission fee to hold yourself up here. It was what some would call procrastination, but you deemed it a way to get out of the building.
“What is it about Egypt anyway? Plenty of other things to see here. Like space. I wouldn’t judge you for watching the light show every day but this” He gestured vaguely to the room “nothing is interesting about a bunch of decaying old bodies and sand. A shit ton of sand.”
“Egyptian deities are cool as fuck, Tommy.” You deadpanned “They represent not only power, but things in the everyday world like the sun, and the moon. 1500 of them, dude. Every single abstract concept you can come up with in your brain is represented by a deity.”
“Wow,” He drew out the word, his crystal eyes widening, cupping the back of his neck. “I never knew how much of a big fucking nerd you were. What plague did you plagiarize that from?”
You fought the urge to roll your eyes at him. Instead, you settled for a muted growl before glancing at your watch. It was hard to keep track of the day when you really focused on your sketches. Dinner, you were going to be late to dinner if you didn’t’ get on the subway now.
With a mock salute, you made your way out of the museum, giving a half-hearted goodbye to the receptionist and exiting onto the large stone steps. The spring air replaced the stale scent of the Egyptian exhibit. A quiet rain fell from the sky- the lights of passing taxis and buses reflected from the damp world.
You can’t be late for this dinner.
“Can you alter time and get me there faster?” You mumbled, shoving your hands into your pockets as you made your way down the steps. “Yeah, didn't think so. If you don’t have any constructive solutions, I could do without the mocking.”
You need to learn better time management.
Getting scolded by an ancient Bird God wasn’t on your list of things to do today. You had made a mistake by gassing him up too much back there. Khonsu lurked in most reflections, including the wet sidewalk. He rarely interfered, but the scheduled dinners made him nervous, an anxiety that you could feel up the center of your spine.
You wouldn’t be late.
Manifestation was a good part of how you got where you were today, and despite the strong stench of sweat and smoke in the overly crowded car of the subway, you knew that you wouldn’t’ miss your dinner with your aunt. So, help you, if you did. So, help Khonsu more.
Nervously, you glanced at your watch and shoved your way through some disgruntled New Yorkers that mumbled profanities under their breath. They’d get over it, you knew they would. Your family, however, had a harder time forgiving you. It was only three blocks, three blocks that you would have to sprint in order to get to.
I don’t know why you sit through these things. We don’t need them. I can get us everything we want.
“Shut up,” You mumbled, panting under your breath. His voice was all-encompassing, and a little bit bored. The only reason you continued to attend these family get togethers was because it annoyed him. Bothered him that you still cared. You mothers roast chicken sealed the deal too.
By the time you made it to the all too fancy lobby of the apartment building, you had a stitch in your side and a coat of sweat against your skin that instantly made you regret being a little late in exchange for general hygiene.
“Y/N, you’re cutting it close.” Bennet gave you a tight smile, reaching out his white gloved hand and opened the gold-plated door. You shot him a tender look and nodded before gulping in a breath of air.
There was thankfully a bathroom in the back corner of the lobby. It was fancier than your own apartment, with lavender smelling soaps and towels that were warmed to perfection. Mumbling profanities under your breath, you stripped your backpack, and your coat before grabbing a towel, and loading it with soap.
You worked hard to scrub the sweat and charcoal from your collarbone and then you moved to under your arms, scrubbing hard until the only thing you could smell was a floral sweetness.
It was then that you noticed you weren’t alone in the bathroom. The granite stall door behind you opened, and you froze in your movements. This woman- this woman was stunning enough for words to get caught in the web of your throat.
Her auburn hair was styled into waves, rolling over her shoulders, a black blouse hugging her curves. The bright bulbs above the sinks reflected brutally in her forest green stare. It seemed to pierce you, regard you as she made no effort to disguise the way it lingered. Your stomach felt hot.
“Am I interrupting something?” She asked, taking a few steps towards the furthest sink. She flicked on the water and pumped a few globs of soap into her palm. You awkwardly, lowered your arm, throwing the wad of towels into a basket.
“Ah, no” you cleared your throat “public… restroom”
Okay, you could do this, talking to a pretty woman wasn’t anything new. You did it on a daily basis when you ran into one of the actual tour guides at the museum. Of course, you spouted off about Egyptian lore and barely took a breath between words- but it was considered talking.
This time, though, you swallowed hard and grabbed your jacket, your bag, and fumbled your way out of the bathroom before she even had a chance to dry her hands. Another deep breath, another mortifying moment before you’d have to worm your way through an uncomfortable family dinner.
Just as the doors to the elevator closed, the stranger from the bathroom slipped into the small space. You nudged yourself into the corner, offering the beautiful woman up a timid smile. “Going up?”
Of course, she’s going up. Where else would she be going?
Fucking bird brain loved to watch you squirm. You wished this was one of the moments where the God of the Moon found a different use for his time instead of following his avatar around. There had to be something else to preoccupy him other than your horrible rapt sheet of talking to women.
“Penthouse, please.”
You hit the button and it lit up a stale blue. Khonsu watched you from the plated mirrors that encircled the elevator. If he could have a shit-eating grin, he would. Instead, he just regarded you from his unnatural height. You had practice ignoring him.
“Small world, me too.”
“Really?” She lifted an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I mean” You shoved your hands into your jean pockets “after awhile it doesn’t benefit you to dress up for this kind of thing. Not that you look bad. You look very nice I just…should stop talking now.”
“Huh,” She smiled at you then, a soft gesture that nearly eased all the tension in the elevator. Nearly. Khonsu had flickered out entirely. You couldn’t feel his looming presence anymore. The higher the floor the lighter you felt. He wouldn’t accompany you here, he had his own agenda.
When you glanced up, the woman’s eyes were on you again, trying to figure out how someone like you had gotten invited to the meal of the cities most famed art curator. You still held your jacket, your bag in white-knuckled hands. But still, you offered up your own smile in return.
The elevator lurched to a stop. A separate keypad lit up and you reached for your keyring before buzzing both of you in. The entryway was large and sterile, a mix of cherry red wood, stainless steel and elegance. The penthouse had two floors that overlooked the city, it’s flashing lights, it’s large windows.
You could smell the Italian that wafted from the kitchen. It was usually served family style, in large basins filled with marinara and pasta. Your stomach clenched at the thought of food, having half-heartedly eaten a bagel from a bodega this morning.
At least you weren’t the only one that had strolled in late. When your mother rounded the edge of the stairs, she had a disapproving look on her face that was soon schooled into something that was semi acceptable for company that wasn’t family.
“Darling, you’re running late.” She moved close and placed a kiss against your cheek “I see you’ve met Miss Rushman, our new chief of security, or so we hope.”
“My apologies, I hit a particularly bad patch of traffic. I hope Aunt Dina isn’t too displeased.”
She waved you off “Nonsense. A nice bottle of wine and all will be forgiven. Let me take both of your coats.”
A nice bottle of wine was enough to reduce you to ramen noodles for the rest of the month, but you would never admit that to your family. That would be a fate worse than death. You took your mother up on her offer, passing her your coat in succession to the woman next to you.
Your family, namely your aunt and her husband, supplied the museums with all of their greatest exhibits, including the Egyptian one that you spent so much time in, sketching the same things over and over again until you got the shading right, got the shapes and the colors and the way the light shifted around the items throughout the year.
When you were young, you’d accompany her around the world, clutching your tiny passport and taking in the wonders of the trade conventions she would go to, the dig sites and castles that had been reclaimed by nature.
She could barely stand to make eye contact with you now, and part of you didn’t’ blame her for that. Being invited to their family dinners had been your mother’s idea, she prodded and poked at her sister until the woman agreed. Though, showing up late never boded well.
You blew out a small breath and made your way to the kitchen, trying to shake off the nerves that buzzed through you. A beautiful woman wasn’t going to knock you off your game. You had a dignity to uphold, though half the people here had seen you stumble through dance lessons as a kid.
There was a platter of different meats and cheeses set out on the kitchen island, a few bottles of chilled red wine. You reached for the wine wrack and pulled down two glasses, free of smudges. “You can’t get through one of these without a little bit of a buzz, Miss Rushman.”
“Natalie, please.” She stood across the island from you, watching carefully as you popped the cork and filled both glasses generously with alcohol.
“I’m Y/N,”
She took the drink that you had offered, taking a few generous gulps. You smiled into your own glass, the sour scent. It hit the back of your throat and the edges of your jaw but quickly cooled your nerves. You’d have to get some food into you fast, a spare cracker or fancy cheese that you couldn’t pronounce.
“Don’t take this the wrong way. I certainly wouldn’t want to offend the family that has offered me such a generous position,”
“I don’t look like I belong here.” You finished her thought process with a swallow of wine.
She chuckled, a sweet sound. “No, you don’t.”
“I get that a lot, don’t worry. As far as they’re concerned, I’m not supposed to be here.” You frowned and shoved a cracker into your mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Head of security, huh?”
“Not yet, I think this is supposed to convince me.” she sighed, leaning against the counter. You directed your attention to the flashing time on the oven behind her. Her blouse dipped low, eyes scanning you. More than anything, you fought the urge to look respectfully. “Best behavior and all”
When your aunt walked into the kitchen, you couldn’t quell the way your pulse picked up against the inside of your wrist. Instead, you straightened up and adjusted your collar as if you weren’t still wearing a t-shirt, slightly damp with the idea of lavender.
Natalie righted herself as well, pulling her shoulders back and taking in your aunt much like she had regarded you earlier, this time her stare was less honeyed and more tactical. The woman carried a certain elegance to her; Deep golden eyes, and long blonde hair that was died a lighter beige at the roots.
“Miss Rushman, I’m so pleased you could make it.” She took the woman’s hand in her perfectly manicured one. “I see you’ve met my niece. Don’t let her change your mind about accepting the position.”
You rolled your eyes and finished off your glass of wine. It was better not to argue with her, seeing as you had already stirred the pot with your tardiness. This was fine, everything was fine. You just had to breathe through it.
“Actually, she’s been perfectly charming.” Natalie said, shooting you a smile “We had a great conversation on the way up. She convinced me to take the position.”
The drink you had just downed threatened to make a second appearance as you choked on air, swallowing hard to stifle your shock. If standing there nervously sweating was enough to push a woman like this into accepting a position at the company, you weren’t aware of it.
“Y/N did?” Your Uncle Chip placed his hand on the small of Dina’s back. He was nursing a scotch that he would gingerly sip until the fire died down as well as the conversation. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to have you on the team, Miss Rushman, but our Y/N? She tends to be-“
“Right here,” You spoke up.
He chuckled “Socially awkward. Passionate about certain things.”
Fuck. You really did need to count your blessings. If Khonsu wasn’t here, that was enough for you for the time being. You seemed to trade hands from the God to the family that would rather shun you.
“Passion is good,” Natalie said, “Do I smell spaghetti?”
Aunt Dina clapped her hands together and let out an excited noise before leading the way to the dining room. Chip grasped at the tray of food that you handed over to him. You palmed your glass and a small wicker basket of rolls to busy yourself.
“Thank you, Miss Rushman.” You whispered to her as you made your way to the dining room, swearing that she fought back a shiver. She gave you a pointed look “Natalie.”
You couldn’t help but feel a heat bloom against your abdomen, despite being wedged between your Aunt Dina and your own mother. You’d rather be back the museum, or home, or doing anything but this. But Natalie seemed to ease that in the slightest, as she met your eyes across the table.
A/N: This is a fluffy love letter to Harry’s love language definitely being acts of service. Feedback is always appreciated and loved! More of my work can be found in my masterlist!
***
You hadn’t wanted to go out in the first place.
The club was hot and sticky and the pounding of the music was giving you a headache between your eyes. Blisters had begun to form from the rubbing of your heels and your boob prison of a push up bra was beginning to pinch in all the wrong places. You wanted to go home.
At home, you knew the green-eyed, curly-haired god of a man you had somehow trapped in your own spell was waiting up for you. You pictured him curled up on your couch in your apartment, where you had begged him to stay so he would be there whenever you were released from Girls Night. You smiled at the thought of him fighting off sleep with your dog burrowed into his side and your kitten curled up on his chest. A smile pulled it’s way to your lips thinking of how you would collapse next to him and be enveloped by the smell that could be described only as Harry that filled your apartment whenever he was there. You hadn’t been with him for long, but you knew you never wanted to be without him again.
Miss you. Be home soon :), you typed out to him and pressed send before your phone was ripped out of your hands by familiarly manicured fingertips. Your objections were met with laughter and playful scolding from your friend, Sarah.
“No more phone!” she giggled, slipping your device into her own back pocket. “More dancing and drinking,” she insisted, grabbing your arm and pulling you from the depths of the red velvet booth. She held her iron grip on your hand as you were dragged through the cramped dance floor to the long bar. Soon shots were placed in your hands of some clear foul smelling liquid that Sarah assured you ‘didn’t burn too bad.’ On the count of three, you found out your friend was a dirty good-for-nothing liar and the fiery alcohol slid it’s way down your throat, feeling it’s intoxicating effects only minutes later.
Dancing didn’t sound too bad anymore. Dancing actually sounded great. And dance you did. You felt your normally self conscious and slightly awkward self melt away as it always did when you had a couple drinks in you and you had the time of your life. When the club turned its lights up, the universal sign of ‘get the fuck out,’ your friends piled into the back of your designated driver’s car. You were usually DD, but you were glad you passed up the opportunity for once.
“There’s my man!” you shouted out the back window as you pulled up to the apartment building, finding Harry waiting for you, leaning against the front doors. He loved it when you called him ‘your man;’ letting out a light chuckle but fighting a blush from finding its way to his face in front of the gaggle of girls. He looked sleepy, understandable since it was nearly 3am, but a smile didn’t leave his lips as he gently rubbed his eyes.
“Hi my girl,” his voice graveled back, thick with the sound of sleep. Clumsily climbing out of the back seat, you wobbled your way to his waiting arms, finally feeling steady supported by his firm hold on your waist.
“I missed you,” you whispered, only stumbling over your words a little and puckering your lips slightly, silently asking for a kiss. You watched his eyes flicker quickly up at the watching car full of your closest friends before giving into your request. When your lips met, you were cheered on by a chorus of ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs,’ your girlfriends determined to embarrass you both. You pressed your now pink cheek to his chest as you waved your friends off into the night, saying your goodbyes and feeling a light peck to the top of your head.
“Come on, let's get you upstairs party girl,” Harry spoke softly, his hand securely wrapped around you and a finger hooked into your jeans’ belt loop, steadying your slightly swaying body. The elevator ride up to your apartment was short, filled with your drunken blabbering about whatever came to mind; topics varying from how soft your kitten was to how bad you wanted to eat the tub of cookie dough in the back of your fridge. Your thoughts were met with sleepy chuckles and his adoring gaze.
Walking inside your home, after a considerable fight with your key, you surveyed the sleeping animals curled up into their beds and raised their heads for only a moment before they deemed sleep more important than their mother. Looking around your cramped living room, you were greeted with a spotless apartment, far cleaner than when you left it for your night of mayhem. “Oh, you didn’t,” you accused as your shocked face met his smug one.
“I got a little bored and I thought it would be nice for you to come home to a clean house,” he smiled. Throw pillows were set on the couch in perfect alignment, tops and bottoms of potential outfits you had chosen from had long been folded and put away, and your carpet looked fluffier like it was freshly vacuumed. “There's also something for you in the kitchen.”
A whisper of ‘oh my goodness’ left your lips when you saw the plate of chocolate chip cookies sitting on your counter in the tiny kitchen. You were an emotional drunk and you didn’t even know you were crying until Harry wiped your tears away.
“You didn't have to do all of this for me,” you whimpered as he pulled you into another hug, leaning up against his warm frame to balance your own.
“I wanted too,” he assured you tenderly. “You know my love language is acts of service, or at least that’s what you told me it was,” he said, your head vibrating from the laugher in his chest.
Harry made you feel loved more than anything else in your relationship. You had only been together for a few months and they had been some of the happiest of your life. You two had met in a bookstore, however chiche it was, and had gotten coffee together. It was your treat (gift giving was your own love language) and very soon after you decided you never wanted to live a life without him in it. You loved him and you knew it, but you had not reached the point in your relationship where you were ready to tell him that. You hoped the gifts you brought nearly every time you saw him were already doing that for you.
You had never been in a relationship that you saw a clear future in. Sure, there were a few people here and there but you had always been known as the single friend. The friend that would always lend an ear, give unfounded relationship advice, and curse exes until they evenvitabily got back together.
Everything about Harry was different. You had met your match. You could spend days on end curled in each other's arms, only leaving your bed to grab snacks, and never run out of topics to discuss or want some time apart. You talked about your careers (he was a middle school music teacher and you were a law student), the meaning of life, childhood memories, your favorite colors, and so on. It was all just so easy with him.
He was also the first man you had ever been fully comfortable with. Overtime, your walls came down (or he knocked out a couple bricks and stuck in), and your usually self conscious demeanor began to twist into this new and improved version of yourself. Even if down the line you and Harry went your separate ways, you knew you would be better for knowing him.
You were brought out of your adoring haze when Harry asked if you needed help getting into pajamas. You agreed, knowing that getting you out of those jeans was going to be a two person job.
Soon you were laying back on your (now perfectly made) bed, naked from the waist up; both of you fighting with the skin tight fabric, your inebriated hands being absolutely no help to the efforts. Your body shook with giggles watching your saint of a boyfriend tug on each leg of your pants, willing them to move, as he swore about how he was going to have to cut you out of them.
“Your neighbors are going to think we're going to town on each other,” he grumbled as he inched them down your legs.
“Nothing out of the ordinary then,” you laughed and wiggled your legs when you were finally free from their hold.
“I’m assuming you want this?” he asked, moving to take off his large tshirt, revealing first his ferns, then his butterfly, and then your favorite little swallows. After a feverish nod, you lifted your hands up and he slipped his shirt onto your smaller frame, enveloping you in the soft fabric and your favorite smell in the world.
“Smells like home,” you mumble while burying your nose in the fabric, unsure if he heard you.
“Oi, you’re going to stain it with your makeup,” he scolded. “Let’s get all that off.”
Sitting you down on the edge of the tub, you watched as he shuffled around the bathroom, frequently looking back to your face to examine his task. He looked at you like your face of makeup was a puzzle to be solved or a mountain to scale.
“I can just sleep in it and deal with it in the morning,” you said in between bites of the chocolate chip cookie you had stolen off the kitchen counter.
“We both know I’ll get in trouble if I let you sleep in it.”
“Probably,” you shrugged without paying much attention to him, mainly enamored by the cookie that was beginning to disappear.
Kneeling down in front of you, wielding a wash cloth soaked in makeup remover, Harry began to softly rub at your makeup. His touch was delicate and tender, careful not to get any in your eyes or hair line. He took his time, moving in soft circles, cleaning away the mask you had put on for the occasion. His breath handed softly on your face and you scanned his face, appreciating this time to take him in.
He was so beautiful. His eyebrows were gently brought together and his tongue would swipe over his lips every so often in focus. His eyes were deep and green, flecked with brown and blue, and framed by long black eyelashes you would kill for. Your eyes swiped around his face connecting his constellation of freckles and you reached up to brush your hands against the light stubble that had begun to show against his jaw line. You let your hand fall to his bare shoulder, stabilizing yourself against his strong build. His skin was soft and tan and perfect.
Your lips had a mind of your own when you said it. A verbalized moment of sheer honesty and adoration. You didn’t mean to say it. It just slipped out.
“I love you, H.”
You could take it back, but that would be lying and probably hurt his feelings. You could double down and keep talking, but your hazy thoughts couldn’t come up with anything else to say at the moment. Your third option was saying nothing. You picked the third.
He paused for a moment when he processed what you said, his eyebrows shooting up and giving you an amused look. A closed lipped grin played on his lips and he continued on with his task, wringing out the towel over the tub and going back in to dry your face.
If you had been sober, you would have absolutely panicked. You would have run out of the bathroom and buried yourself under your sheets, embarrassed of what you just did. But you were hanging on for dear life to your buzz, pretending like everything was perfectly peachy and you didn’t just accidentally tell your boyfriend of only a few months that you loved him.
“That’s good. Because I love you too,” he beamed, all exhaustion gone from his voice.
Hope you liked it as much as I loved writing it :) My ask box is open with any feedback you may have!
Koo Junhoe was a contradiction. He was an anomaly in the usual order of things, and everyone seemed to love him for it. He was one of the most popular people in his university because he didn’t quite fit into any one category. He was a physical education major, he was the star player on the lacrosse team, the most sought after male player in the intramural soccer club on campus, he was arguably the most attractive jock in the whole school, and he was the reason there was a Jiu Jitsu club on campus. You would think hearing all of these accomplishments that he was a total meat head jock- there’s no way any man this invested in physical activity could ever be interested in more stationary, softer intellects.
However, Junhoe was also a creative writing minor. He was a part of a small writers group that he had compiled of poetry writers (like him) and fiction writers (a passion he deeply admires but didn’t have the same calling for). He had a few poems published in the school’s English journal, and was never caught without his leather bound notebook for his poetry.
Junhoe was one of the most versatile students in his university- but this never seemed to cross Junhoe’s mind. He didn’t see any reason why people would expect anything else from him. Why were people always surprised when they learned that the star lacrosse player was also a poet? Why were his friends in Jiu Jitsu club always laughing when they saw him scribbling away in his journal before meeting started instead of stretching like the rest of them?
Not everyone judged Junhoe so harshly, and there’s no way he could miss the way girls watched him when he walked around campus. Like he could ever be oblivious when the girls in his writing group created love interests that could almost be his doppelganger. Junhoe’s gay-dar was also almost flawless- it wasn’t just the girls that gave him heart eyes in passing.
However, there was one girl that totally ignored Junhoe— (Y/N) was the conundrum that Junhoe couldn’t figure out. He knew she liked boys- he’d seen her at parties with boyfriends, but she didn’t seem to notice him at all. He’d only tried to talk to her once, and she’d been kind, but she’d been late to class and had to rush off. Of course, it was just Junhoe’s luck that the only girl that Junhoe had eyes for was also the one who looked right through him.
He didn’t know much about her— it wasn’t like he was some stalker. He did know, however, that she was also a creative writing minor and was a junior- just like Junhoe. They had previously been in two classes together, which was how she had managed to catch his eye. She would come to class either dressed to the nines- perfectly designed outfits that matched all the way to the jewelry- or looking like she’d just rolled out of bed- her hair in a messy bun, a pair of sweats baggy and hanging from her waist haphazardly. To him, she always looked beautiful.
The thing that really won his heart, though, wasn’t her look or their similarities; it was the way that she always gave him blunt, brutally honest feedback on his pieces. Most of their others in his creative writing classes either don’t know enough to give good feedback, or were so infatuated with him that they gave nothing but blind praise for everything he wrote. (Y/N) was the only person except the Professor who could give advice that Junhoe could use— ideas that sparked Junhoe’s mind to make even better, deeper poems that expressed exactly what he meant.
Her straightforward nature had won him over, but was also the thing that stopped him from shooting his shot. Nothing scared him quite like the idea of being rejected by her— he could imagine it now and it gave him chills. His mind paints the picture without his consent; asking her out the next time they pass, her blank face staring before it morphs into one of pity, her soft voice explaining she’s not interested, her turning away— scurrying off before he can make it more awkward.
No, he’s perfectly fine admiring from afar. It hurt less; he’d rather her not know he exists than to be another weird boy hitting on a classmate he barely knows.
Fate seemed to have other plans for Junhoe, however. Or, more accurately, his best friend, who happens to run the intramural club. He had shown up slightly early for the club meeting that day and was surprised to see Donghyuk with (Y/N) and her best friend, (Y/BF/N), who was the best female player on the intramural team. He really was contemplating running in the opposite direction as quickly as he could, but he was a second too slow.
“Yo, Jun, come here!” Donghyuk waves him over, a wide grin on his face, knowing exactly what he was doing to the poor man.
With a deep breath and a lot of internal cursing of Donghyuk’s existence, he slowly jogged towards the trio.
“Dong, what’s up, man?” Junhoe had no idea what was coming out of his mouth, or why he suddenly sounded like some of the more asshole boys in his sports classes, but he was too focused on remembering to breathe and not trip to care much. Donghyuk’s eyebrows bounce at the greeting, obviously making the same judgement that Junhoe did, before nodding at him, playing it off.
“You know (Y/B/F/N),” Donghyuk gestures to the two women beside him. “This is her best friend, (Y/N). She’s going to take up Miyoung’s spot while her wrist heals.”
Junhoe nods at (Y/B/F/N), who smiles at him. He doesn’t know where he gains the confidence, but he looks directly at you and says, “Don’t we have a creative writing class together?” The automatic look of confusion makes Junhoe’s heart freeze, then instantly knock impossibly fast against his rib cage.
But then your eyes burst with realization, a huge grin splitting your face. “You mean Dr. Scott’s class? God, I’m barely alive for that class; how are you awake enough that early to know the other kids in that class?” You were laughing with him— though it took him a second to laugh along because wow you were having a conversation.
“I just really like the class— I zone out in most other classes.” It wasn’t a lie, he just didn’t point out you were his favorite part of the class. All his other writing classes over the semesters without you had been almost torture with all the fawning, ass-kissing girls.
“Yeah, Jun is actually a pretty shit student because he’d rather write poems and join every sports club on campus than do his damn homework.” Donghyuk nudges Junhoe, laughing as Junhoe balks at his words.
“Well his poems are good so it must pay off a little! I’ll be the judge today if the same can be said about his sport skills.” You chuckle, and try to ignore the look that (Y/B/F/N) is shooting you that Junhoe thankfully doesn’t catch.
Junhoe is too busy having to physically restrain himself from fawning over your praise. Luckily your friend jumped in just before he could combust with the effort.
“We should go get ready. Let’s go stretch under the shade over there, (Y/N)!” She loops her arm around your bicep, lightly tugging you away from the boys. You wave at them, looking simultaneously absolutely adorable and like you were afraid your friend would kill you when you reached the aforementioned shade.
When you finally turned to look at (Y/B/F/N), Donghyuk whacks Junhoe’s bicep hard, making him wince and rub the abused spot. “Make a move already, idiot. Are you blind, or just stupid? Did someone put you in a particularly tight chokehold recently?”
“Wh-what?” Well that told Donghyuk all he needed to know and he sighed as he rubbed his face.
“She likes you too, dipshit. Just ask her out already.” Junhoe stared at his best friend for a solid minute before he burst out laughing.
His eyes welled with tears as he gasped around peals of laughter, holding his ribs as his sides spasmed from the force of his laughter. He couldn’t believe Donghyuk had said that when he’d just done so much to try not to seem like a crazy person.
“You’re hopeless, I swear.” Donghyuk shakes his head, leaving Junhoe’s still cackling figure to go greet a couple other students in the club who had arrived.
Although Junhoe is able to physically calm himself down and begin to stretch for the game, his mind wouldn’t stop thinking of Donghyuk’s words, and he repeatedly had to stop himself from looking over his shoulder at you to see if you were looking at him too. Finally Donghyuk called everyone to the side of the field to split into teams.
Just Junhoe’s luck that he was on the opposite team as you. He had wanted to work with you to win— the idea of you two playing soccer together and beating the other team made his heart race in a way that confused him. It was just a little passing crush on you, why was he so invested in doing things with you?
Get yourself together, Junhoe, and get your ass out there.
He took a deep breath and huddled up with his team, splitting up positions and delegating who would play when, since there were so many members on both teams that they would change out players. Junhoe was to be the first member in the goal, which he wasn’t ecstatic about, but he accepted it with a grin. He could play any position just as well as the next person, so he knew he could keep the goal safe from the other team. He really would’ve preferred to be out on the field to show off his skills though—especially with you out there. You had pulled your hair from your face and you had shed the light jacket you had on previously to show off a band t-shirt, a group he absolutely adored to listen to while writing that he never would have expected you to like as well.
As he took his place in the goal at their end of the field, he watched you stand next to your friend, laughing at something she said, pushing her lightly. He couldn’t help but smile wide at how happy you looked—totally at ease despite the fact you were about to play soccer with a group that you barely knew.
Donghyuk shouted out a “start game” from his position on the sidelines (he was sitting out this first half, but he would later take Junhoe’s position, as he preferred to stay on the side, watching the action instead of running around). Junhoe’s team was a surprisingly good mixture of members; while not the best players, they seemed to work together beautifully today, and Junhoe’s job was mind-numbingly easy.
The ball almost never came to their side of the field, except for a handful of close calls that Junhoe quickly dispatched with calculated ease. His team was winning 3-0 with only about 10 minutes left for this half before they switched out the members. Hearing this minute warning seemed to light a newfound fire under your ass, however, and you suddenly seemed to learn exactly how to play soccer like a pro. Your goalkeeper had kicked the ball at you after saving it from another goal. Seemingly in a matter of seconds you were one with the soccer ball as you effortlessly handled it all the way across the field to his goal until you were only a few feet from him. You made eye contact and he could see the fire and drive in your eyes for a goal, and he made a conscious decision in that second to let you make the goal. He would let the ball through—what was one small goal anyway, and it was only an intramural game.
However, his plans changed quickly when you punted the ball—hard. Instead of going into the goal cleanly, like he was expecting, it went straight for his forehead, knocking his head back with a sharp thwack sound. He fell to the ground with a harsh groan, his hands coming up to rest on his face as the world spun and warped, pain spreading across his whole head. He lay on his back, cradling his head in his hands, as he grunted out swears that would make his mother smack him harder than the soccer ball had.
“Oh my god, are you alright? Jesus, I’m so so sorry.” Your voice was high and anxious, and racing closer to him. He moved his hands and opened his eyes, squinting against the harsh sunlight to see your face looking down at him. You were sweaty from all the running, and your hair was starting to fall back into your face, but he still couldn’t help smiling.
“God, you’re beautiful, (Y/N).” He didn’t know what that ball did to his head, but he didn’t really mind the sudden courage it gave him.
Your face dropped into shock before you burst out into glorious laughter, your face lighting up into the widest and most adorable smile Junhoe had ever seen.
“You’re crazy, Junhoe.” You brush a strand on his hair from his face before pressing a hand softly to his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch softly. “No, no, don’t close your eyes. We don’t know if you have a concussion yet.”
His eyes flutter open and look at you with soft eyes. He gathers the last bit of pain-drunk courage to blurt out, “Go on a date with me?”
You nod, looking down at his splayed figure. “It is the least I can do after almost taking your head off with a soccer ball.”
“Good kick, by the way.”
You both laugh at that as you stand, slowly taking his hands and helping him to his feet as well. He winces and places the heel of his hand between his eyebrows, where the most pain is currently radiating.
“Let’s get you an icepack.” You chuckle, putting his arm around your shoulder and walking him towards the nurse’s office. Donghyuk didn’t seem to even ask if Junhoe was alright, he was well aware that he would be fine with some rest and ice. Instead, he just jumped into his place with an accomplished grin on his face, starting the game right back up.
You didn’t need to help Junhoe all the way to the nurse, or stay with him for the 20 minutes he sat there with an icepack to his forehead, but the conversation you had was funny and sweet. And truth be told, you had noticed Junhoe many times in the past and had been drawn to him. You were more than happy for any excuse to interact with him outside of class. And thanks to this upcoming date, you would finally get the chance to get to know him that much better.
“What kind of place is this?”
“The kind of place where fairy tales live and monsters dwell.”
—Smoke Bitten
Adam Hauptman is intimately acquainted with fear. It was born in a jungle in Vietnam and never quite left him. Even in his happiest moments—of which there were many, especially recently—it lurks in the fringes. Lying in wait.
When he sees Mercy broken on the burnt grass, seemingly dead, he feels that fear claw up his chest and strangle him. He blacks out for god knows how long, his worst fear playing like a feedback loop in his mind. It isn’t until Samuel, still wolf, bites him in the arm that he finally comes to.
That’s how Adam finds himself, naked and half covered in blood, cradling Mercy’s body. His pack huddles around him, worry creasing their faces. He feels the stink of his fear billowing out of him like smoke, choking everyone around him.
“She’s alive, damn it!” Gary finally manages to gasp. He is panting, voice raspy. How long had he been trying to tell him?
Adam reaches down into himself and feels for that thread-thin bond that connects him to his heart’s mate. It’s there, flickering. He grasps it in both hands, wrapping it around his wrist, anchoring himself to sanity. To her.
Mercy survives that night, like she has done so often before. But one day her luck will run out; his fear whispers the words he knows too well. She’s not like Coyote—damn the man—who resurrects like the sun every morning.
Adam hates beyond telling that her unconquerable spirit is wrapped in such an insubstantial thing as human skin and bones.
:::
Adam first met Mercy Thompson in Montana when she was about thirteen years old. He was up on business, Alpha of a New Mexico pack and newly engaged to a blonde, 22-year-old coed named Christy.
Mercy at the time, before the deaths of her foster parents robbed her of childhood, was still all scraped knees and awkward arms of adolescence. Jutting chin and slumped shoulders—defiant and bored.
There was a ghost of a bruise on her face from the accident where she wrapped Bran’s brand new sports car around a tree. He had heard of that incident within hours of it happening, as he suspected most wolves did, even across the ocean. Mercy’s antics were already famous.
She sat on a chair outside Bran’s office, the scuffed toe of her sneaker knocking into a leggy console table nearby. Looking at him sidelong, she had the air of someone waiting their turn at the principal’s office.
When the door finally opened to let him in, he asked, “What did she do this time?” He stepped around Bran to enter the office.
Bran’s mouth pressed flat in an irritated line, while Charles smirked in the corner. He was the one who answered: “Something about chocolate Easter bunnies.”
“She poisoned a group of boys at school,” Bran snapped, closing the door a little too roughly behind Adam.
“Really?” That seemed a bit extreme for the young girl, whose reputation for pranks were mostly harmless, if effective.
“She injected several chocolate Easter bunnies with ipecac,” Charles explained. “And then warned the boys not to steal them, or ‘they would pay.’ They, of course, did not listen. Apparently the boys had been in the habit of stealing the younger kids’ candy for a while.”
Adam laughed despite himself.
“She wants for discipline,” Bran said with a frown.
“Mercy has plenty of discipline,” Charles answered. “It’s the focus of it, that’s the problem. Her interests are too narrow and she has an overdeveloped sense of justice.”
“And her foster father can’t do anything?” asked Adam.
Charles smirked. “If Mercy were a wolf, I wouldn’t be surprised if she outranked him. Any good she does is out of love for Bryan and his mate, not because of fear or intimidation.”
That was, Adam realized, the principle by which Mercy lived her life. It was the driving force of all she did for her family and friends—the pack she forged for herself, not with magic ties but by fierce loyalty and reckless love.
:::
It has been months since she recovered from her devastating injuries. Injuries that Samuel said at first would be the end of her. Her survival is nothing short of a miracle and, Adam suspects, a bit of Coyote’s magic.
Now night holds new terrors for him. He lays in bed at night just listening to the steady beating of his mate’s fragile, mortal heart. Dreading the day when it would inevitably stop.
:::
Mercy was twenty-three when he next saw her in the middle of a Washington desert. Alone in the world but still causing trouble. The first order of business for his newly arrived pack was eliminating the rogue wolves who were harassing her. Saved without so much as a thank you.
Was it coincidence or conspiracy that brought her to the Tri-Cities when Bran had ordered Adam to move his pack north from New Mexico? Coincidence on her part probably, but definitely not Bran’s, whose machinations were wide reaching and infamous.
That Adam bought the property behind her trailer was pure, ornery spite on his part.
She had marched up to him on the first day of construction and stuck a finger in his chest. “Tell Bran that I don’t need a babysitter,” she told him, eyes flashing. “I’ve done fine for eight years without his help—I’m done with wolves.”
“Good to know,” he answered, because he knew that response would drive her crazy, and turned back toward the construction of his pack house. He imagined her making faces at the back of his head and smiled.
:::
He kisses a line down her body, pausing at the shiny-pink of each new scar. Scars she earned in defense of his pack—in defense of him.
And he knows his love is killing her.
Oh god, would her life be better without him? Yes, the fear—the monster—inside him says. Yessss. We will kill herrrrr.
Panic like bile rises in his throat, and he gulps it down. Beneath him Mercy tenses, sensing his change of mood. He murmurs quietly, nuzzling her, lulling her back into softness underneath him. His lovely Mercy. His mate, for who he would willingly lay down his soul, let alone his body.
Whom he would kill for. Without question.
This. This will be his goodbye, then.
He presses a kiss to her inner knee, to her neck, and then presses into her, drawing a sigh from her lips. With his own he continues his careful ministrations, whispering a benediction against every mark on her skin that dares to be there because of him.
:::
His touch is a disease. His touch is a curse.
He can’t bear lying next to her and not touching her, so he doesn’t. He stays late in his office. He sleeps in the spare guest room. It’s killing him, but every day she’s alive, and it’s worth it.
It’s killing him that she wanders the house with those empty eyes, a line of concern between her brows, the hurt and confusion that clearly marks her face.
But at least she is alive. And soon, it will be over.
:::
Adam’s favorite memory of Mercy—the one he thinks of before he puts the gun to his head—is of her in the wedding dress too fancy for the church reception that his pack and daughter put together. She’s dancing with Jesse, at the heart of the people he loved most in the world, swaying to a country song blasting from the church’s ancient speaker system. And she turns to him and smiles.
He can see it as clear as if it were right in front of him. There was so much love in her face then. How different are those faces, the one from his memory and the one Mercy wears at this moment, when she finally sees him for the monster he is.
But she is not disgusted and horrified, as he feared she would be. She is furious. She throws a barrage of words against him, her unfettered anger like a battering ram.
In the years Adam had known and loved Mercy, he has become intimately acquainted with her many moods. Sneaky, playful, worried, content. They were as familiar to him as the feel of Mercy’s calloused hands in his.
Her white hot rage was something entirely new. And through clenched teeth she seethes a truth so utterly profound, that in that moment it shatters the madness that grips him. He lowers the gun in his hand.
Three simple words they had spoken to each other again and again. Whispered in passion and in play. Promised—sworn.
“You are mine.”
:::
He believes her. And for now, so does the monster.
You are mine.
You are mine.
You are mine.
He follows her home, to bed. And though he can’t make love to her like he wants, he worships her body with oil and hands and mouth.
It isn’t until she is completely sated and asleep when the monster rips through his body again. A monster that he now realizes is the ugly marriage of his own fear and self loathing, and Elizaveta’s death curse.
But instead of hurting his mate like Adam fears, the monster scrabbles out from beneath the covers and huddles in the corner of the room. It sits there watching his mate, the covers rising and falling to the rhythm of her breathing.
Within a few minutes, the even breaths stutter and stop. “Adam?” she calls, voice rough with sleep.
It’s the monster that growls in response, and Adam waits. It didn’t work, he thinks. The monster is still here. Will you finally leave me like you’re supposed to?
And still he remembers her promises: You are mine. You are mine. You are mine.
“For fuck’s sake,” she says sounding annoyed. “Get back to bed. I’m cold.”
Oh, my Mercy.
After a moment, the monster cautiously approaches the bed, and it creaks under the sudden weight. It wraps itself around her, tucking her head under its chin. She draws up the covers over them both, and they settle to sleep.
For the first time in a long time Adam prays. Let this be enough. This love. Let me be enough to keep her safe.
A/N Hello I wrote this while I was in a Sackler mood yesterday at like 4 am and its the first actual smut I’ve written so bare with me! There is quite a bit of build up because for some reason I love establishing characters. It’s also vaguely plus sized!reader but not strictly! Anyways, hope you enjoy & my inbox is always open for requests/feedback.
Adam Sackler x Reader
Summary: You run into an intense man in the dairy section in the dairy isle one Saturday Morning, and by Saturday Night he’s in your bed.
Warnings: SMUT! Spanking, name calling, Oral (F receiving), hair pulling, longer build up, and oat milk.
Living in New York has its odd challenges here and there. There aren’t dishwashers in unit, rent is the price of one’s soul, people were colder, and grocery shopping was a drag. This Saturday morning was supposed to be relaxing, no work, no designs, no awkward booty calls from dudes I met in the club a moth ago looking for some action. It was all looking up until I looked in my fridge and remembered the Wednesday ritual was pushed back because of a meeting.
With a groan I resigned myself to the reality that I would have to do some chores before I could allow myself the relaxing pamper day I deserved. Once I was out of my apartment, down a couple blocks, and at the grocery store I was relieved to know that on a Saturday morning it was pretty empty. Only a couple people that really just ignored each other as they passed in the cereal isle or the small produce section.
It was an overall normal trip until I made it to the dairy section. There in front of the large selection of milk stood, what I could only describe as, a smoldering giant hunched over a comedically small phone.
Usually in this kind of situation I would let them be, but he just happened to be in front of the only brand of Oat Milk I actually like, so it seemed like I would have to wait it out. This dude, however, was not one to mind social cues. After what felt like five minutes of awkwardly waiting off to the side for this dude to get the message and move on from the last bit of the store I needed before I could get on with my day, I decided he wouldn’t move without a nudge.
“Ehm,” I cleared my throat softly, hoping that would alert him to my presence, “Excuse me.” The man barely grunted, acknowledging I was there but continuing to frustratedly channel into whatever he was doing on his phone. “Excuse me?” I said louder, hoping to get a civil response.
“What the fuck do you want?” He finally snapped at me, actually turning to look at me. That was also the first time I was able to see him fully. The man was hot, I’ll give him that much. His tall frame matched by solid muscle, a tasteful amount of facial hair that suited the intense features, and now a scowl. A scowl that was presently pointed in my direction while I ogled at him. “What the fuck do you want?” he demanded again; this time much harsher. I took a step back, not really expecting this full-bodied giant to be yelling at me on a Saturday morning in the grocery.
“Fuck,” I muttered to myself trying to dip into some of my confidence I gained in the years living here and finding it much harder to let his anger flow off my skin as it usually does. “I’m- fuck- I just need some of the oat milk and you-“ I rambled on but stopped at the sound of a deep sigh from the man in front of me. “I’m sorry, I’ll just-“ I abruptly turned, figuring the milk wasn’t even worth it anymore. The experience spoiled any hopes for a peaceful day, and the faster I made it back to my apartment the faster I could wallow in the new mood crashing over me.
“Wait, shit!” I heard from behind me before I felt two large hands brace my shoulders. One thing the man didn’t expect was for my self defense lessons to kick in the second he grabbed me. I swung my elbow into his stomach, well because of his height it ended up being more of an elbow to the man’s balls. As I turned and backed away from him, I noticed in his hands he had the milk I was looking at earlier. Shit fuck fucking shit fuck! He was trying to give me the fucking milk!
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry fuck, shit!” I moved to help him stand up, his face beet red a twisted up as he processed the pain, I unintentionally put him in.
“Fuuuck,” he groaned out while he took some deep breathes, “I, fuck you’re a good shot… I just wanted to give you the fuckin’ milk.” He muttered out, still mostly bent over. Guilt washed over me in waves. I just attacked the poor guy trying to give me milk, even if he yelled at me earlier. Fuck, I can’t believe I just did that. My body heated up in shame, burning from the inside out, hoping that I could just melt within my own skin. The day only getting worse by the minute, I prayed that I would get to my apartment in peace so I wouldn’t cause any more damage.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” I said again, not being able to emphasize it enough, as he began to recover more and more, and stand taller but not his full height, “Thank you for the milk.” I said still feeling the dark pungent shame in my chest. As he stood up more and more, he handed me the milk.
“Don’t-“ he breathed sharply, still regaining his footing after being in pain, “Don’t apologize kid.” He muttered the name out at me and I wondered how old he was suddenly, or how young I looked trembling in the middle of the grocery store. “I was a dick.” He breathed and straightened fully, towering over me.
“No, no, “ I denied his apology, shocked that he wasn’t pissed anymore, “I shouldn’t just go around attacking people, you didn’t deserve that.” I took the milk that I realized he was trying to give me still.
“Nah, don’t sweat it kid,” again with the fucking nickname, oddly enough it lit a fire in me somewhere I hadn’t felt in years. “I should’ve known better than to just grab a lady.” He smiled at me, chuckling at his own joke and I smiled with him. His moods sending me for a bit of a loop, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle myself.
“I still feel bad,” I admitted to him, he tilted his head curiously, “could I get you a cup of coffee or something?” I offered, hoping that he wouldn’t be too offended by the offer. Something about this man was drawing me in, his effect leaving me wanting more and more. What the hell is going on with me today?
“Oh, I don’t drink coffee.” He stated, rejecting me bluntly and with that statement. The shame bubbled hire a fire burning in my cheeks whether he can see it or not I was embarrassed. Another time I put myself out there, thinking I read a situation one way, and it going very differently. My eyes suddenly very interested at the floor rather than the attractive man before me. “Shit,” he muttered to himself, “Not, I don’t drink coffee but maybe we could get lunch or some shit?” he offered with a cocky smile.
My eyes snapped up to meet his, a warm feeling that for once wasn’t shame flooded my veins, I smiled at him in return, “Yeah we can get lunch and shit.” I replied easily, proud of myself for regaining some of that confidence I usually held. But then I remembered where we were, and that I had a cart full of groceries I needed to get home, it seemed he was coming down in the same way. “Actually…” I trailed off, not knowing his name.
“Adam.” He answered and shook the milk carton playfully in lou of my hand, “Adam Sackler.” His crooked teeth poking out through his smile making my heart pound faster in my chest.
“Adam,” I hummed, testing out the way his name felt on my lips. It felt like they were always meant to say his name. “Since you don’t drink coffee, which seems sac religious to me,” I allowed myself to flirt with him, testing the water, “And I’ve got a shit ton of groceries to put away, what about dinner tonight?” I asked.
He laughed, unabashedly checking me out, my chest tightened hoping he liked what he saw, “Fuck yeah, dinner sounds great.” He replied confidently, boosting my confidence.
“Alright Sackler, it’s a date.”
After exchanging numbers, into his comically outdated flip phone, we decided to meet at the grocery store before dinner. I rushed home to clean my apartment, a girl can be hopeful, and get ready for any outcome of the date. It had been months since any person had given me any romantic indication, dating apps had long since run dry and I was tired of having to explain my size to people before they met me. Rarely after meeting someone, in real life, had they shown as much interest that Adam has shown me in the last hour. That meant I was hopeful and hope was a dangerous game for a girl like me.
By the time it came to meet up with Adam I was a nervous wreck. My brain kept trying to convince me of the worst-case scenarios as I made the walk to meet up with him. All of those thoughts seemed to fade to black when I saw him. He was dressed casually, as I was as well, in a pair of dark wash jeans and a white t-shirt. He smiled when he saw me approaching, he perked up from where he was leaning and met me halfway.
“Sorry if I’m late, there was a man trying to save the turtles outside my apartment and I’ve already out run him twice so he’s out for blood.” I joked when he was finally close enough to me. He laughed at my ice breaker, and I thanked all the powers at play that he had a sense of humor, he was shaping up to be quite a catch as long as his mood stayed up.
“Don’t sweat it kid, I got here early anyways. Fuckin’ in my bones at this point with acting and shit.” He grumbled the last bit as he flailed his arms about. An actor? I’d never actually been on a date with an actor before, I mean with there being globs of them in the city for Broadway and whatnot. I always assumed they were stuck up about looks, and if anyone could be Adam was definitely a hot enough actor to be picky.
“You’re an actor?” I asked coyly, hopefully digging deeper into the mysterious moody man.
“Yeah, also do some other shit.” He answered vaguely which only drew me in deeper to the mystery of this man. Who the fuck is he? And why the fuck is he so hot? “I know this diner just a couple blocks that way, does that sound good?” He asked considerately, and in that moment, I swear I could marry him.
“Fuck yeah, I know exactly what you’re talking about, Lou’s is a fucking gem.” He responded with a grin, wide and unabashed, that made my heart flutter. But even when I made my way that direction, he kept his gaze on me, not in a creepy way but in a refreshing way. He acted like if he didn’t take all of me in now, that I would disappear forever, or that I would have been a figment of his mind. When I looked back at him a moment of sadness crossed his features, maybe it wasn’t sadness, maybe it was fear. He looked so young for just a split second, and I saw him, I really saw him.
So instead of saying anything I simply reached out and offered my hand, and he grabbed it. With that we began walking back in the direction of my apartment on the way to the diner, and throughout the walk we talked about meaningless things like the mean lady that lives in his building to his morning run routine. I kept it light, trying to stay away from sticky topics before we sat down, but I also wanted to actually know who I was going out with.
Once we were seated, the games began. Adam and I ordered before we got into a grittier subject matter but instead of just asking, Adam wanted to make it more fun. So, like middle school girls at a sleepover, Adam suggested we play truth or dare.
“Truth.” I stated with no hesitation, what could he even dare me to do right now? It’s not like anything juicy could happen while we were in public.
“Oh, come on, you scared of what I could dare you to do?” He taunted at me, still flashing his signature crooked grin.
“I’m giving you an opportunity to ask me whatever you want Sackler, use it wisely.” I goaded him testing his waters, watching his reaction to see if he was game. His eyes trailed down to my shirt. Bingo, he’s interested.
“Alright Kid, when was the last time you got laid?” He went straight out of the gate with a sexual question. The longer I spend with him the more apparent it becomes that Sackler might be a little sexually deviant, that thought only escalated the fire burning in my belly.
“It’s been about six months since I got laid,” I started, “But about a year since I actually, let’s say, enjoyed getting laid.” I clarified, feeding into the building sexual tension.
“Hmm, that’s a crime,” he responded, trailing his eyes over every part of me visible across the booth, “They should be punished for leaving a woman like you unsatisfied.” He murmured, leaning forward tracing a finger along one of my hands placed on the table. Every light touch, even if it looked innocent, felt dirty and drenched in the want I had for this man.
“Truth or dare Sackler?” I angled my torso to him so he could see down my shirt, I could see his reaction, his eyes start to glaze over, his mouth open, ready. I had never been with a man so openly affected by me and at every move I took the opportunity to tease him.
“Fuck, Truth.” He said, not really paying attention to what he responded with but more paying attention to the parts of myself I was revealing to him.
“What do you think of me Adam?” I asked softly, some could even say sensually, as I retracted my hand and my body, ripping away the points of contact that he was latching to physically and visually. He suddenly retreated his stance as well, looking me in the eyes to see a knowing smile already dancing across my features. He groaned playfully, knowing he played right into my hands.
“Fuck, kid, what do I think of you?” He asked redundantly, “For starters I think you’re the biggest fucking tease and if we weren’t in public right now, I’d put you over my knee and punish you.” He began, speaking in a low threatening tone. Every word, every syllable, every fucking letter sent a shockwave to my core, shaking my resolve and tumbling every other instinct down. I let a soft delicate whimper, only loud enough for him to hear, pass my lips as I closed my eyes and leaned my head back to take in what else he was saying. “You’re a tease, but you’re also fuckin’ gorgeous.” I snapped my head open, not expecting a real genuine compliment from the sexual haze we were in.
“What?” it slipped out of my lips before I could really do anything about it.
“Kid,” he began, by putting his hand on top of mine and staring so far into my soul I felt like I was naked in front of him, “You’re so fucking beautiful, like I- I saw you this morning and fuck I think you might actually be perfect and fuck! Like even if you’re not, you’re better than that.” He said and I couldn’t remember the last time I had ever felt like this, maybe never. He was so different, and intense, but funny, and God I want to sleep with this man, but I also want to cook dinner with him and see how he likes his eggs, or what his favorite book is, and who hurt him. I want him, and he wants me.
“Thank you,” I began, getting a bit shyer under the smoldering chestnut eyes, “I don’t think anyone has ever called me gorgeous before, or if they have, I can’t remember.” I explained, trying to brush it off as a joke, but he doubled down.
“They must be blind kid, or stupid.” He chuckled to himself, “Probably fuckin’ both.” He smiled, and I smiled back, bursting at the seams, but before I could respond our waitress came with our food.
The spell we were under before we got food was somewhat broken when we were eating, returning to the more casual atmosphere, talking about our jobs and whatnot. He was really interested in knowing more about my job which made me feel almost as special as before the food came, but I kept it to surface details for now. Adam had a lot of weird habits from what I could tell, he cursed like a sailor, and he got super intense then switched back to normal out of nowhere. Yet, despite all the odd facts this man drew me in every time he opened his mouth, he had me on the edge of my seat constantly. Throughout the meal I couldn’t help but wonder, what’s going to happen next?
When we both finished our meals the tension from before began to seep back into the conversation in doses. By the time the waitress returned with the check it was pretty clear Adam was ready to get out of there, and I wasn’t much farther behind. While Adam went to fish for his wallet, I threw enough cash out on the table to cover both meals, not wanting to linger for change. Adam looked like he was going to protest, but I just offered my hand out to him.
“I asked you out,” I explained, leading him out of the restaurant and back on the sidewalk. “Its only polite I pay since I invited you out.” I turned to him and realized he was much closer to me than expected. He took a step closer to me and his long shaggy hair began to cover his face.
“I guess I’ll just get it next them then kid.” He offered with a smile and I looked away, feeling an excitement bubble through me for more. “We never did finish our game.” He said not teasing anymore, I looked at him and pondered for a moment before answering his unspoken question.
“Dare.” I said confidently this time, leaving him to smirk down at me in pride. He puffed up his chest and moved even closer. He leaned in like he was going to kiss me but just before he allowed our lips to finally meet, he stopped.
“I dare you to kiss me.” His gruff tone sending my nerves haywire, a chill running down my spin at the command. His eyes darker than I had seen them, only balanced by the smirk on his lips daring me, goading me to follow through. The final straw was the sensation of his hands settling heavily on my waist, keeping me steady and sure as I surged forward and planted my lips on his.
From there he wasted no time gaining access to my mouth and invading each of my senses one by one.
Touch; the feeling of his tongue languidly pushing against mine, fighting a war for dominance and winning without hesitation. His hands finding themselves roaming over every point of my body, and mine deeply nestled in his hair.
Sight; the possibilities of what comes next floating by in my head in vivid detail. The sheer number of ways this encounter could finish, all unbelievably tempting.
Sound; the deep velvet groan from his dulcet tones when I tugged on his chestnut locks, the whimper that snuck out of my mouth when his hands made home on my backside.
Smell; the dark woodsy pine notes of his cologne mixed the sweet vanilla of my perfume creating an intoxicating scent.
Taste; nothing I’ve had in my life could compare to the taste of Adam on my tongue, the feeling of wholeness only grew. My wanting grew with it, wondering if Adam tastes good now, what other perverse acts would taste even better.
Eventually the heated kiss broke, and the depths of Adam’s eyes told me everything I needed to know in that moment. “My apartment is just a block that way.” I spoke breathlessly, pointing behind us in the direction the night would take place. He threw his head back with a groan, a sight that sent shockwaves of anticipation through my body and to my center. He nodded his head furiously.
“Fuck yeah kid, lets go.” He spoke, pulling me along with my hand to head in the direction of my apartment. By the time we made outside my apartment and pulled out my keys Adam sprung into action, pulling my back to meet his front allowing me to feel the full effect I’ve had on him throughout the night. His errection dug itself into the curve of my behind and suddenly I realized just what I would be dealing with for the night. Adam Sackler is fucking hung.
His kisses trailed up my neck, his hips grinding into my body and the noises he was making were borderline pornographic. The task of opening my door was lost as I allowed myself to lean back into the pleasure, he was giving me. His hand trailed down my arm slowly as he sucked on a particular spot behind my ear that made my knee buckle in bliss. His hand wrapped around mine, that was still holding the keys, and raised it to the door.
“If you don’t unlock that door now, I’ll fuck you in the hallway.” He threatened, no doubt in my mind he would follow through with the threat. I quickly refocused on getting my key in the door and getting this man inside.
As soon as the door was shut, he had me pressed against it, mouth pushing against my own once again, but now his hand travelled under my shirt kneading my breasts in his large sturdy hands. I reached, clawing at his shirt to come off as he unclasped my bra from the back, which only succeeded in turning me on. Once his shirt was removed, he made quick work of mine, stopping only to marvel at the sight of my topless body. He stared for just a moment too long, doubt flooded my veins and my throat tightened at another failed encounter where someone didn’t like what they saw.
Just as I resigned myself to my own fate, reaching down for my shirt, Adam took both of my wrists and pinned them above my head. Once again pushing me against the door and pinning me from any other means of movement.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he demanded with a dark grit in his voice I had not heard before, his fire like anger only lighting the fire of hope in my belly once more.
“I thought,” I started and as soon as I began to speak, he ground his erection into my core, effectively beginning my decent into madness. “Fuck, Adam that feels good!” I cried out rather than explain myself.
“Come on little girl,” He teased breathlessly into my ear, obviously enjoying the act as much as I did, “Explain yourself to me.” He spit out all that came out of my mouth in return was a needy whimper and shuttered breath. It set my body on fire, turned my bones to jelly as he shifted to hold my weight for me.
“I- fuck- I thought you didn’t like it.” I said softly, simply as the pleasure built with every thrust of his hips against mine. My back arched as he slowed to a stop, my eyes shooting open to see him looking down at me with furrowed brows.
“You thought I didn’t like your pretty little tits huh?” he looked down at me, and I nodded softly, shyly up at him and his eyes softened slightly. He made the move to prop me up against the wall and move his body down. He kissed his way from my jaw down to my chest, finally settling with both his hands caressing my breasts. “You have,” He punctuated it with a small suck on my chest leaving a hickey a few centimeters above the nipple, “The most,” He took his sweet time worshiping every square inch of my chest, “Glorious tits I’ve ever fucking seen.” Finishing it off with an intense attachment to my nipple that sent earthshattering shockwaves throughout my body from the first real contacted pleasure Adam had given me all night.
“Please, baby girl,” he murmured against my tits as he moved further down my body, “Let me eat your sweet little pussy.” He spoke, the dirty message matched only by the lewd and carnal tone he spoke with. Before he could anywhere with my pants, I took his hands and began leading them to my bedroom, which wasn’t too far away.
He followed like a lost puppy trailing its owner, looking at me with wide and hungry eyes, taking in every movement my body made. As soon as I laid back in the bed, he made quick work of my pants, pulling them off with my underwear in one swoop. I let him handle me however he wanted and he moved with swift expertise that had my core drenched by the time he was done.
With his hands stabilizing my hips, keeping them pinned to the bed, he sat between my legs admiring the sight laid out before him. He smirked at my disheveled appearance, trying desperately to hold on to my sanity and he hasn’t even laid his hands on me. Suddenly his tongue was on me, taking one long stride of my core before focusing on my clit.
“Fuck yes!” I shuttered out when he brushed his tongue in a zig-zag on my clit before detaching with a sadistic chuckle. He explored every part of me, places no man had ever considered now have me careening towards the pit of bliss at lightning speeds. He took his time prodding at my hole while swiping his nose at my clit and in that moment, I swore no one was better at this than Adam fucking Sackler. My hands twirled themselves into his hair tugging harshly, making him pause for his own pleasure. Only then did I notice his gyrations on the mattress himself, which sent my mind into an overdrive of pride and arousal.
“Your pussy tastes so sweet for me baby girl.” He hummed smugly into my pussy, the vibrations bringing me that much closer to the edge. He looked up at me, watching me fall apart as he brought his hand to my entrance working in a finger, beginning to stretch me out for him. “Your pussy’s tight, that for me?” He spoke, knowing I was way too close to orgasm for me to respond with anything but whimpers of his name mixed with any expletive that comes to mind.
“Adam,” I called out, tightening my hands in his hair, trying to signal him for more. “Please!” I cried out, his pace slowing to a teasing momentum before he added another finger without warning. My head tilted back, losing all sense but the sense he was feeding me through his ministrations. I was teetering a dangerous ledge and with every thrust of his fingers he brought me to the edge. He took one last thrust of his fingers hitting the deepest part of me, paired with his tongue swiping my clit and the damn burst within me.
Euphoria was flooding my system; I was floating in orgasmic bliss surrounded by nothing by the feeling of Adam bringing me through my haze and the smell of sex mixed with his cologne. After what felt like a lifetime of bliss, I felt him begin to kiss his way back up my body, taking special care of my stomach, sucking hickeys along the way.
“You’re so good at that.” I murmured, still coming down from my high. He chuckled into my neck before coming up to my face and planting a big kiss on my lips. I immediately responded, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and bringing him flush to my own body. I could taste myself on his lips, his facial hair still coated in a layer of my cum, which only added to the kiss. “Adam, I need you to fuck me.” I said as I broke the kiss. His eyes lighting up again like in the living room, he moved away from me to finally take off his pants.
“Condom?” He asked as he stood in his boxers, outlining his prominent erection pulsating in need. I only shook my head, moving to the edge of the bed where he stood to palm him over his boxers.
“I’m on the pill.” I whispered seductively in his ear, he nearly doubled over in pleasure once the statement registered in his brain. He wasted no time taking my hips and twisting me around so I was on all fours before him. A deep feeling of butterflies reverberated in my stomach as I arched back into the hands he planted on my ass. He let himself groan at the sight of me before him once again, this time he had his hand moving over his thick cock.
He rubbed the head of his dick over my pussy before catching it at my hole and pushing forward. The sting of him stretching me was not lost on him as he braced himself around me, caging me into his dick. He hissed as I clenched around him, trying to accommodate the difference. “Fuck your pussy’s so fucking tight you’re gonna squeeze me out.” He gritted out through clenched teeth, waiting for my signal to go ahead. His dirty comment only helped relax me, sending me spiraling in euphoria.
“Adam, I need you to move.” I whined out, desperate for the friction he was made to bring me. He pushed farther and farther in until he was buried at the hilt. Both of us shuddered out, he filled me to the brim, his body made for mine in ways I had never felt before. Suddenly he pulled back and slammed back in with a deliberate force, landing perfectly on my G-spot. I cried out his name, the only thing I could remember at this point.
“Yeah, yeah that’s it,” He praised my squeals of pleasure, “Say my name you fucking whore.” He spit out making my pussy clench around him in absolute pleasure. The way his hips slammed against mine, the way his hands groped at the cheeks of my ass, mixed with the things coming out of his mouth sent me into another dimension. “You like that you little slut? You like when I call you dirty little names?” He prompted me, adding a harsh slap to my ass to punctuate his thrusts.
“Yes!” I cried out, burying my head into the sheets, letting Adam have his way with me exactly how he wanted. “Yes, I love being your little slut! Fuck!” He landed another spank, jolting me forwards on his cock. He retaliated by taking charge with my hips once more, grunting out insults mixed with praise.
“Are you gonna cum? You gonna cum on my fucking cock you whore?” He stopped his thrusts, teasing me and my climax fading. “If you want to cum on my cock, fuck yourself on it.” He demanded, his hands kneading and soothing the damage he caused my backside already. I began rocking back on his dick, creating a similar rhythm to before. The harsh slaps echoed around the room and the lewd situation escalated my frenzy. “That’s its little slut, you’re fucking yourself so well.” He lost himself in the pleasure of it all, meeting my thrusts halfway.
“Adam,” I moaned out, feeling the same euphoric anticipation building in my gut, I escalated the force trying to push myself to the place of bliss. “Adam, I’m going to cum!” I announced feeling the cliffs edge building and building. His hands trailing up my back and grabbing a fist full of my hair and pulling me flush against his chest, changing the angle so he was pushing deeper inside me.
“Cum for me little slut.” He commanded, another hand wrapping around me to rub my clit in time with his thrusts. The bubble built higher and higher until I felt myself release for the second time that night. His thrusts continued, faltering as my body spasmed in absolute satisfaction, his grunts of pleasure travelling into my ear as he chases his own high.
As his hips begin to falter their rhythm, he pushed into me for one last time before he let go and painted my insides with the ropes of his cum, marking me from the inside out. He wrapped his arms around me, collapsing us both on the bed, his cock still inside me, beginning to soften as he spoons me from behind. Our highs collectively lower and he is left trailing small kisses on the back of my neck and shoulder.
“Where have you been all my life?” I joked once the atmosphere was returning to normal. He chuckled out, squeezing me into his chest even if I didn’t necessarily fit, and shifted his hips away from mine for the first time slipping out of me.
He moved to look at me properly before saying, “Brooklyn.”
A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought, my inbox is always open!
family means nobody gets left behind—or forgotten | ashton irwin
Thank you so much to everyone who has interacted with part one of the godparent!Ash series so far! I’ve decided to call it “Charlie Rose, ten fingers, ten toes” in honour of our favourite sassy, loving, hilarious little goddaughter. Part two explores the family holiday I included in the original blurb, and depending on what you all think, we’ll see if there’s enough interest for a part 3 and beyond! For those of you currently in summer, remember to always hydrate, be sun smart and don’t forget to slip, slop, slap!!!
(Also I have no idea if toddlers/small children can typically speak like Charlie does in this part, they probably can’t, but let’s just call it artistic license lol)
Part one here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | more writing here
Word count: 4.4k words (the longest thing I’ve written for tumblr, oooof)
Warnings: There’s like two swear words?
(This is a fem reader insert)
A few months after Ashton had come to your babysitting rescue, Alice and James toyed with the idea of flying back to Australia for Christmas. But the reality of a fourteen hour flight with a wriggly toddler was just not something they wanted to deal with, at least not yet, so instead they settled on a holiday to Hawaii. Naturally, they begged you to come along (“Charlie will miss you too much if you don’t!”), and Ashton had a last minute band schedule change that meant he could join you for ten days of sand and sunshine on the island of Maui. So despite the butterflies you were feeling, you found yourself sitting besides Ashton (who had graciously given you the window seat) on the 6 hour flight to Honolulu.
Charlie was well-behaved for the first few hours, but at about the four hour mark she started squirming in her seat and demanding to be let out to run up and down the aisles. James took her for a few laps of the plane, but that wasn’t enough and if you didn’t do something soon, you’d have a full-blown Charlie Rose meltdown on your hands. Out of nowhere, Ashton produced an iPad with a drumming app on it, and pulled Charlie into his lap and plugged in her toddler headphones. You all collectively breathed a sigh of relief when Charlie clapped her hands in excitement, and “playing” the drums kept her entertained for the remainder of the flight. Uncle Ash to the rescue, once again.
After a brief stopover in Honolulu and a short flight across to Maui, you had finally arrived at your hotel, which was right on the beach in Ka’anapali. It was a boutique hotel that mostly had private villas with ocean views, and you found yourself praying for a nice comfy bed sometime soon as you and Ash kept Charlie entertained while James and Alice checked in at the front desk. They seemed to be taking longer than you’d expect, but you also figured your brain was exhausted so who even knew what the concept of time was anymore. Charlie had climbed onto Ashton’s lap and was poking his cheeks, and you caught yourself smiling like an idiot as you watched the two of them giggle together. They truly were two peas in a pod, Ashton and his darling Charlie Rose.
Finally, Alice and James made their way over to you, room keys and luggage in hand. There was a look on Alice’s face that you couldn’t quite figure out, but James spoke up before you could ask her what was going on.
“So, turns out they messed up our booking, and they only have a two bedroom villa for us, not three.” James said slowly, his gaze flicking between you and Ashton.
“So, Charlie has to bunk in with you guys? That seems fine… right?” You said slowly, not quite understanding what the issue was.
“Nah, we wanted the 3 bedroom villa so you and Ash would have a room each. But now you’ll have to share a room. And… also a bed?” James continued, with a look on his face that silently begged you not to murder him on the spot.
You could feel the heat starting to rise in your cheeks, and you opened your mouth to respond but no words came out.
“Fine by me if it’s fine by you, darlin’.” Ash spoke up from behind you, where he was currently holding Charlie upside down by her legs and she was shrieking in delight.
“Sure, no problem. Besides, nothing we can do about it, right?” You responded, trying not to sound as nervous as you felt. Damn it, there were those butterflies again.
You headed across to your villa, and to say it was beautiful would be an understatement. There was a small kitchen and living area that overlooked a deck with direct beach access and a breathtaking view of the ocean, and then there were two bedrooms either side of the kitchen with their own bathrooms and sliding doors with access out onto the deck as well. The resort staff had already brought in a high chair and a portable cot for Charlie, so you and Ashton put your luggage into the other bedroom while James and Alice got Charlie settled into her new surroundings. A resounding “YES!” met your suggestion of room service pizza for dinner, and you sat out on the deck with Ashton, Alice, James and a very tired but stubborn Charlie and watched the waves roll in as the sun set above them and you waited for your food to arrive.
After you consumed your pizza, and Alice and James retired to their room (and their somewhat arduous task of convincing Charlie that yes it really was time for bed, and yes, you and Uncle Ashton would still be there for cuddles and playing tomorrow, and no, they wouldn’t go swimming in the ocean “like Moana” without her), you stayed out on the deck a little longer, transfixed on watching the waves crash into the shore and listening to the peaceful sounds of your surroundings.
Ash had trekked inside about ten minutes earlier to take a shower and get ready for bed, and the sound of the sliding door opening broke you out of your tranquil ocean reverie.
“Bathroom’s free, if you need it. I’m gonna read my book in bed, but don’t worry about disrupting me, do whatever you want to.” Ashton’s cheerful tone cut through the clear night, and you turned to see him in the doorway to your room, shirtless and slightly damp from his shower. You trailed your eyes down his body before you caught yourself and cleared your throat hurriedly. “Thanks, I’ll be in in a minute.”
After taking a moment to regain your composure, you shuffled into the bedroom where Ash was, sure enough, sitting under the covers and reading a book. You avoided eye contact as you gathered your pyjamas and toiletries before heading into the bathroom. You may have taken longer than usual to shower and work through your evening skincare routine in the hope of avoiding awkward pillow talk with Ashton, but he was still awake and reading silently when you peeked out the bathroom door. Damn it. It’s fine. You’re adults. You’re friends. You’re single adult friends who can share a bed platonically. It’s fine. The voice inside your head was particularly vocal tonight, and you took a deep breath before opening the bathroom door and stepping back into the bedroom.
Ashton glanced up at you and smiled gently, before resting his book in his lap.
“I hope you don’t mind me taking the right hand side. I like to wake up with the sunrise, so I figured this way the light from the window would hit me but not you!” Ashton chirped, patting the bed.
“Oh no worries, that works for me!” You tried to match his enthusiastic tone, but god damn you were nervous.
You quietly folded your clothes and put them into your suitcase, before retrieving your headphones from your purse and slipping into bed beside Ash. Your pyjamas for this summer vacation were an old band t-shirt and some bike shorts, and all of a sudden you were self conscious about the amount of exposed skin they gave you, with Ashton mere inches away. You pulled up the covers as high as they would go, being mindful not to tear any blanket space from Ash, and opened up the mindfulness app on your phone in search of your nightly wind-down meditation and sleep soundtrack (which was a soothing loop of rain and ocean noises). Pressing the on button on your wireless earbuds, you let out a sigh when they flashed red at you, indicating no battery.
“Damn it.” You muttered under your breath, reaching over to plug them into the charger you’d set up for your phone on the bedside table. You would be able to get to sleep eventually without the meditation, but you knew the anxiety of having Ashton so close to you (but also so far away) was going to keep you up for hours.
“You good?” Ashton asked softly, marking his page in his book and closing it, adding it to the bedside table on his side of the bed.
“Ahh.. yep. All good. I just usually do a meditation to help me sleep, and listen to some white noise during the night, but my headphones are dead so I’ll have to go without. But I’m sure I’m tired enough from the flights that I’ll be asleep in no time!” You tried to play it off as totally fine, but you could hear the nerves in your own voice.
“Why don’t you just play it off your phone? I’m down for a meditation and some white noise, sounds like a recipe for a great night’s sleep on our first night in paradise to me.” Ashton angled his body towards you as he spoke, propping his head up with his elbow in the pillow.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to fuck up your routine or anything Ash, it’s supposed to be a holiday and I know you’ve been so busy with the band these past few weeks - “ You babbled nervously, hands fiddling with the bedspread you were tucked under until Ashton reached over and squeezed your hand in his reassuringly.
“I’m sure. Let’s do it.” His tone was firm but gentle, as he used his other hand to switch off the bedside lamp and snuggled down under the covers. You did the same on your side of the bed, and hit play on the mindfulness app as you were bathed in darkness.
“Welcome to your wind-down meditation. Let’s begin by closing our eyes, and focusing on our breath. Breathe in for four counts, hold for seven, and then breathe out for eight. In, two, three, four…” You could feel your heart rate steadying, as you closed your eyes and concentrated on your breathing. As you drifted towards sleep, you were vaguely conscious of Ashton lying beside you, also breathing deeply, his hand still intertwined with yours under the covers.
The next morning, you were awoken by the sunlight streaming in through the window, and some whispers and hushed giggles outside your bedroom door that sounded suspiciously familiar. You stretched out your legs, and suddenly became very aware of another set of legs that were slotted amongst your own, and an arm that was loosely pressed into your side. Half of your brain began to panic about the crossed boundaries and impending awkward conversation you were bound to have when Ash woke up and realised he was spooning you; but at the same time, the other half of your brain was calm, and letting you enjoy how safe and serene it felt to have woken up in Ashton’s warm embrace.
Before you could decide whether to stay put or break up the current scenario happening beneath the sheets, the door that led out to the kitchen creaked open, and Charlie Rose shuffled into your bedroom still dressed in her Mickey Mouse pyjamas. You squeezed your eyes shut, anticipating her next move, and gasped loudly in mock surprise when Charlie clambered up onto the bed and launched herself at you and Ashton, giggling in delight.
“Gooooood morning! Time for SNUGGLES!” Charlie proclaimed in her sing-song voice, bouncing up and down on the bed where your feet were. You and Ashton both groaned, and rolled apart from each other to sit up in bed. You immediately missed his body heat, but your heart burst when Ashton leaned forward and tackled Charlie into the bedspread, tickling her and smothering her face in kisses.
“Good morning, Charlie Rose. Did you have a good sleep?” Ashton asked, brushing Charlie’s crazy bed hair out of her eyes as she snuggled into his arms and maneuvered herself under the covers.
“Yep!” Charlie said, popping the P sound loudly. “Did you sleep good, Uncle Ashta?”
“I sure did, angel. Are you excited to go to the beach today?” Ash continued, rolling over so Charlie was snuggled in between both of you.
“Yay, beach! Did you sleep good because you got to snuggle with auntie? Mama says she always sleeps good when Dada gives her cuddles.” Charlie asked innocently, peering up at both of you with her big brown eyes.
You felt your face get hot, and your mouth was suddenly dry, when Ashton shot you a wink and tapped Charlie’s nose affectionately.
“I sure did, Charlie Rose. You know your auntie gives the best snuggles, don’t you?” Ashton said teasingly, as he kissed Charlie’s head gently.
“Yeah! BEST snuggles!” Charlie exclaimed, wriggling her tiny body towards yours and smacking a slobbery kiss on your cheek. Ashton laughed, and stretched his arms above his head. Damn, that chest though.You shook your head to clear it of the train of thought you were about to delve into. Not the time for that.
“You two stay here and snuggle, I’m going to get us some breakfast, alright?” Ashton spoke, leaning over to kiss Charlie’s forehead before moving to stand up out of bed.
“Nuh-uh, Uncle Ashta! Kisses for auntie too, good manners!” Charlie said, her tone suddenly serious and slightly demanding. Ashton laughed heartily, before a solemn look crossed his features.
“You’re right, Charlie, that was rude of me. Kisses for auntie.” He said gently, locking eyes with you for the first time all morning, before leaning over and pressing his lips to your temple.
“Better!” Charlie half-yelled, smacking her own kiss onto your forehead. Ashton chuckled, before pulling a shirt over his head and stepping out to the kitchen, where you could hear Alice and James pottering around and making coffee. Your face was still hot, and your mouth was still dry, but after a few more moments of snuggles with an increasingly wriggly Charlie, you pulled yourself out of bed and made a start to the day.
After a short breakfast and a discussion about what was on the itinerary for the day, you broke off into your separate rooms to get ready for a trip to the beach as the first activity.
Ashton was quicker at getting ready before you, and by the time you emerged in your bathers and a t-shirt dress as a pullover, he was in the lounge with a very excited Charlie who was almost literally bouncing off the walls, while Alice and James were packing supplies for a beach picnic in the kitchen.
“Now, Charlie Rose, what are the rules for the beach?” Ashton asked firmly, gently gripping Charlie’s shoulders to get her focus.
“Stay with a grown up. Don’t talk to strangers. No ocean by myself. No throwing sand.” Charlie listed dutifully, twisting her hands together.
“Good. And what do we have to remember before we go outside?” Ashton prompted, tapping the sun hat on her head as a reminder.
“SLIP, SLOP, SLAP!” Charlie yelled, clapping excitedly in pride at herself for remembering.
“That’s right! And what do we need to do for slip, slop, slap?” Ashton continued encouragingly.
“Slip on a shirt… and… and…” Charlie’s voice trailed off, and she looked up at you for assistance.
“You got this, Charlie Rose. What do Mama and Dada put on your face and arms to protect from the sun?” You knelt down to her level, rubbing your arms in demonstration.
“Slop on sunscreen, slap on a hat!” She babbled excitedly, grasping her yellow sun hat with her tiny hands as she remembered.
“Yes! Good job!” You and Ashton cheered, exchanging high-fives with Charlie and each other. Once you were all lathered in sunscreen, and wearing shirts and hats (Charlie solemnly inspecting each of you in turn), James and Ashton led the way out of your villa towards the beach. You and Alice walked slowly behind them, swinging Charlie in between you as she held both of your hands tightly.
There was barely anyone on the beach when you arrived, and soon you found the perfect spot in the sand to set up camp for the day. Charlie was tugging on James’ hand and begging to go into the waves, and you couldn’t help but laugh at her shrieks when she felt how cold the waves were when they washed over her tiny toes.
Charlie splashed around in the water with each of you for what seemed like hours, with sandcastle building and snack breaks in between her “Moana time”, as she’d taken to calling swimming in the ocean. By the time lunchtime rolled around, the sun was high in the sky and beating down on you, and Alice announced that it was probably a good idea to go back to the villa for a nap, in part she had a slight headache from being outside in the heat for so long. You could see Charlie’s bottom lip start to tremble at her mother’s suggestion, so you quickly offered to stay at the beach with her a little longer, and Alice could head back for some rest. Ashton volunteered to keep you and Charlie company, and James said he’d head back with Alice a little too quickly (something told you that there probably wasn’t a whole lot of actual napping planned in Alice and James’ immediate future). They packed up some of the belongings you’d brought to the beach and headed off towards the villa after some salty goodbye kisses from Charlie, and you settled into your spot on your beach towel and opened up the book you’d started reading on the plane yesterday.
Ashton and Charlie were collaborating on a “sandcastle masterpiece”, as Ashton called it (“I’m creative director, Charlie is head of logistics and construction!”) beside you, and Charlie was being extremely well-behaved for a small child who had spent almost ten hours on flights and in airports the previous day (and was about to miss her afternoon nap). There were a few other groups of people around you on the beach, and you were deeply involved in the chapter you were reading when a soccer ball came flying out of nowhere and bounced onto your towel, giving you a fright. It rolled away and stopped just short of Ashton and Charlie’s sandcastle masterpiece, and Charlie bounded over to pick up the ball with her small hands.
A young boy and a woman you assumed was his mother approached, and you saw the boy tug on the woman’s hand and point towards Charlie when he noticed the ball in her hands.
“Hey Charlie, can you bring the ball back over here? I think we’ve found its owner!” You said brightly, beckoning Charlie over to you and where the boy and woman were standing. Charlie skipped over and offered the soccer ball to the boy without complaint, and ushered a cheerful “You’re welcome, have fun!” when the boy thanked her quietly before running off with his ball.
“Well, don’t you have nice manners, young lady?” The woman praised Charlie, smiling down at her from behind her sunglasses. “What an angel you two have on your hands. It seems to come so naturally to you both, were you married long before you had your little one?” She continued, looking expectantly between you and Ashton, who stood up and brushed the sand off his hands with a laugh, lifting the sunglasses off his face.
“Oh, you know what they say, when you know you’ve found the one, everything else falls into place. Feels like we’ve been together forever, but then Charlie came along and your heart just grows, you know? She makes it easy though, Charlie’s a special kid.” Ashton spoke proudly, and you were taken aback at how easily the little white lies rolled off his tongue.
He chatted to the woman for a few more moments before her own family called for her and they parted ways. Ashton returned to his sandcastle masterpiece with Charlie, who was waiting patiently for him, and shot you a smile before digging the small plastic spade into the sand and helping Charlie press it into the bucket.
You eventually decided it was time to pack up and head back to the villa for a break, and upon arrival you managed to convince Charlie to go down for a nap (which she agreed to, as long as she got to snuggle her Uncle Ash in the process). You sat out in the lounge and continued reading your book, and did some research on dinner options while everyone else was sleeping. There was a local restaurant about ten minutes’ walk away, so when Alice and James arose from their slumber, they agreed that it sounded nice and called ahead to make a booking for your little family group.
Dinner was fairly uneventful, but you could’ve sworn you caught Ashton giving you a double take when you emerged from your shared bedroom in the low-cut, green maxi dress with sunflowers on it that you’d bought especially for this trip. But then again, maybe the butterflies in your stomach were messing with your head. The restaurant provided colouring pages and crayons to keep Charlie entertained while you were waiting for your meals, and you and Ash took great delight in working on your own beach themed artistic creations alongside your goddaughter’s “scribble everything in one colour” approach.
After dinner, you walked along the beach on your way back to the hotel. James and Alice were up ahead, listening to Charlie babbling about the big sandcastle she and Ashton had built earlier in the day. Ashton offered to carry your sandals so you could use your hands to hold up your long dress, and you gratefully accepted. Alice, James and Charlie disappeared around the corner on the path that led back to the villa, and you found yourself pausing for a moment to admire the sunset and take a deep breath.
Ashton stepped up beside you, and you could feel his gaze as you stretched your arms above your head and wriggled your toes into the sand.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You said softly, watching the waves crash into the shore a few metres from you.
“Not the only thing that’s beautiful tonight, just quietly.” Ashton mused, and you could hear the smile in his voice. And it was on his face, when you turned to roll your eyes at him and laugh when he winked at you.
“Do you ever… do you ever worry about what the world will be like by the time Charlie’s our age?” You questioned, looking down at your feet in the sand.
“I mean, I’ve thought about it a lot. It’s hard not to imagine what Charlie’s going to be like when she’s older, because if current Charlie is anything to go by, good fucking luck to Alice and James on that front.” Ashton chuckled, settling himself down into the sand and patting a spot next to him. You tucked up the hem of your dress and sat down, your legs pressed against Ashton’s as you sat closely.
“But I don’t worry too much about it, because there’s so much in life that we can control. We can’t control the whole world Charlie’s growing up in, but we can control her world with us, you know? We can love her, and support her, and counsel her when she needs or wants it, because we’re her family, and that’s what family is for.” Ash continued, nudging you gently with his elbow.
You took a moment to reflect on what he was saying. “We really are a little family, aren’t we? Like, I know I might not ever have children of my own, but with Charlie, and Alice, and James, and you, I just feel so content. At peace. At home, I guess.” You could feel yourself smiling as you spoke, and when you glanced up at Ashton he was doing the same.
“Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind, or forgotten.” Ash said seriously, before you both burst out laughing. Disney movies on your Charlie babysitting days were starting to take effect on you, and Lilo and Stitch had been a popular choice in the lead up to your Hawaii trip.
As the laughter subsided, you felt Ashton’s hand brush your hair over your shoulder, before resting on the sand next to your thigh. Somehow, you’d gotten a lot closer in the last few moments, and you found yourself licking your lips as you realised how close Ashton’s face was to yours. He was studying you, and glancing between your lips and your eyes, and then he leaned in to brush his lips against yours softly. It took a second before you realised what was happening, but as you reached up to wrap your arms around Ashton’s neck and pull him even closer, you heard James and Charlie’s voices calling for you and you both sprang apart. Pressing your fingers to your lips, you stood up and turned to look for the voices.
“Hurry uppppp! We’re gonna get ICE CREAM!” Charlie cheered, jumping up and down excitedly.
“Sounds great! Coming! Sorry!” You called back, smoothing out your dress and glancing back at Ashton. He stood up and brushed the sand off his jeans, and gave your hand a squeeze when he passed over your sandals. You quickly made your way towards where James and Charlie were waiting on the footpath, and moved onwards to the ice cream place in the lobby of the hotel, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt when Ashton kissed you and basicaly took your breath away. Day one of your Maui vacation done, only nine more to go… who knew what the universe had in store for you next?
Part one here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | more writing here
