#I barely get enough sleep anyways so it won't matter

[manasurge]

✨✨✨✨I can't focus on anything✨✨✨✨

I'm doing that thing where I'm just sitting in silence for hours without realizing it until it's time for me to go to bed and I DID NOTHING AGAIN. This is so FruSTRaTINg.

[bi-writes]

i'm a big fan of your writing! can i ask what made simon want to mail order a bride in the first place? thanks <3

mail-order bride

he's tired of staring across his dinner table and seeing nothing but empty space.

it isn't something he had thought about in the before. he's spent a long time shifting between different cots, collecting sand from faraway places and counting the bodies he dropped with tally marks against his boots.

there's a picture he keeps tucked into his vest, but he won't take it out. it sits heavy there, an invisible wall between himself and the outside world, a reality that he chooses not to believe. if he doesn't look at them, he won't think of them, and if he doesn't think of them, maybe he can pretend they were never even real.

they all have something outside of here. his sergeants are too pretty and too outgoing to stick around; they're social butterflies, and simon has seen the shuffle of pictures of some pretty girl that gaz can't stop staring at, and soap never shuts up--whenever they have a signal, he's somehow got a phone call with his cousin's stepfather's little sister, or it's his second cousin's brother-in-law's birthday, and he's got to wish him well since he missed his art exhibition last month.

even price has a pale circular shadow that is stained onto his ring finger.

it's not his fault, is it? it's not his fault he was dealt the worst fucking hand. it wasn't his fault he was born already two feet into the grave; it couldn't have been his fault that he can only get a good night's sleep when there's screaming in one ear or the rattle of a battlefield over his head.

it isn't his fault. it isn't his fault. it isn't his fault.

the cigarettes taste bland today. they're old, stale, and he can taste the bitterness already, but he lights it anyways, flicking ash into the ground, scrunching his nose until he gets used to the bite of it.

there's a shadow at his side, and he turns to snap at them, assuming it's johnny and his incessant nagging, but he holds his tongue when he realizes it's his captain.

he's got a warm cigar in one hand, and he leans against the concrete wall beside him, sighing deep, the kind of pensive weight that only a captain can bear.

price looks tired. he needs to go home.

"boys invited y'out, didn't they?" price asks, and simon chuckles lowly.

"'m olready 'ome," simon murmurs. "'n i can get piss drunk oll on my own 'ere."

price shrugs.

"ya haven't taken leave since you joined my team, simon," he says low. "can't have that. you know it."

simon shrugs.

"can try and make me go," simon tells him. "but y'know i won't leave."

"i'm not asking, simon," price says firmly. "'m telling."

"doesn't matter," simon takes a long drag of the cigarette, holding it in for a second too long before letting it out slow. "got nowhere ta go."

his captain is not blind. simon's on a one-way road, and the end of it stops at the end of someone else's gun. men like simon, the ones who have nothing to lose, they're dangerous. they clear rooms outnumbered thirty to one because no one thinks they can. they hit targets from thousands of yards away because it's the only place that never changes. they kill and sleep peacefully because the blood of a stranger is far cleaner than that of someone they know, of someone they love.

they'll never leave because war is familiar. they don't want to go home because home isn't something they know. they're nomads, taking with them only what they can carry, because the rest is baggage and an emotional weight that they aren't strong enough to carry.

but it doesn't mean men like simon don't want. it doesn't mean they don't wish for more. it doesn't mean they don't think about using their teeth for something other than baring them to show their dominance, their aggression, their insecurity.

simon's a protector. the way he shoves his men behind him says so. the steadiness of his voice over comms when the op goes to shit. the ease of his hand when he ties a tourniquet. the split second that simon never wastes, the way he uses his body as armor and the look he gives his men when they're scared. simon's died twice before, and the look in his eyes tells them that this isn't it, that this isn't death, because he'd fucking know--he'd recognize it if he saw it.

simon's unrelenting. his past, his trauma, it's tried to beat him into a shape that will bend and snap, but its obvious simon is not made of lead--fuck, he's an entire block of unmovable steel. he does not give when compressed, he does not crack when the strength of him is tested. simon's fought too hard to live to let a gun terrify him, he's endured too much torture to flinch when someone sinks a blade into his chest.

but he knows, simon knows, that there is something missing. he fought hard to live, but for what? he's endured, but what the fuck is there when he lays his head down at night?

simon's a lover. he tries so hard to convince himself that he's always been this way--alone, drifting, lost, but it's a lie. simon knows what it's like to want. he knows what it's like to look into a crowd and hope you see a familiar face. he understands wanting to pull that string taut, but he also understands what it can do to you. what it can take from you.

he understands what you can never get back.

he thinks this is a bad idea. he crumples the note paper in his hand that had the address scribbled onto it, tearing it, staring up at the house in front of him. it's quaint, a lovely little house in the outskirts of london, with a red chimney and overturned planters in the yard. there's a weathered wooden door, a porch step that needs fixing, and when he kicks open the door, he grimaces seeing a carpet that need's replacing.

"the fuck am i doin' 'ere?" he whispers to himself, sliding his mask off, running a hand over his face. his heart is pounding, but he's not sure why, but he catches his reflection in the window. what looks back at him terrifies him--he can't do this.

he makes his way back outside, rummaging through his pockets for a cigarette. he takes a seat on the steps, lighting it, and as he takes his first frantic drag, he sees the torn pages of the note still on the ground. he picks up one end of it, running his thumb over the crumpled paper there, smudging the pencil scribble there.

she needs you

it's written in price's ugly handwriting, letters all tilted to the side and barely legible, but he still can read what price didn't write--and you need her.

but simon doesn't need anyone. he barely needs himself, barely can take care of himself. this won't help him--he can't help anyone, he isn't the kind that can be this kind of thing for anyone. he's stayed in the service because at least this way, he can die with honor, he can prove them all wrong, he can at least be remembered for what he could do and not by what was done to him.

his touch is ice. his heart is buried too deep under his ribs; no one has seen it since he could finally register a memory. his face, the skin he wears--he's not a pretty man, he's a forgettable one. he isn't gentle, he isn't capable of it. he can't forgive. he's so quick to anger, likes to snap his teeth, and he cannot be the kind of thing that they all expect him to be.

he does not love himself. he will not love himself. so he cannot love another.

there is a certain kind of satisfaction he feels when he fixes the porch step. once abandoned, once a nuisance, and now it functions as intended. he feels the same kind of thing when he rips up the stained carpet, and he feels it again when he watches the seeds of the thyme leaves grow as they rest in a pot above the sink.

things once forgotten serve a purpose. with effort, they can be used again. they don't have to be replaced, they can be open anew, they can live again and breathe deeper and see through the lens of a different perspective.

when you climb the porch steps the first time, he thinks about the board that doesn't wobble any longer. when the door shuts behind you for the first time and you take off your boots, he thinks about the new carpet that warms your toes now.

and when you lay next to him for the first time, under the covers of the bed he's made, he reaches over and slips a few fingers around your wrist, thumbing at the base of it and swallowing hard when he feels the pulse of your heartbeat. it beats, warm and steady, to a beat familiar, one he knows. his heart has not been hiding under thick bone and the tar of his own blood.

it's here now. under your skin. and now it's home.

[mistymisfit]

A leaky faucet and other problems (or how he asked you to move in together)

wc:2.3k

warnings: suggestive content, a creepy neighbor, living in an old ass apartment problems

a/n: inspired by actual things that have broken in my apartment and my need to tell everyone I love them when I drink

He's tired, that he can know for sure. His body is sore, begging for some rest as he finds his place on your bed. In your sleep, you cuddle yourself closer to him, arms wrapping around him and legs tangling with his own. You were under the blankets, covered head to toe and even wearing a sweatshirt, and still needed more warmth. He knew you were more sensitive to the cold than him, but still felt it a bit excessive. Yes, your place was cold, but it wasn't a shivering-there's snow outside type of weather. It was early fall, so the temperature could drop during the night, but never enough to warrant this type of protection. Then he felt the freezing gust of wind coming through your window with a noise that felt straight out of a horror movie. Why didn't you close it? When he tries getting up again, you stop him. A sigh of his name and your soft hands made him drop his head in his pillow.

"Where are you goin'?" You slurred, barely conscious.

"Your window's open, 'm just gonna close it,"

"Don't bother," You pulled him closer. "It's stuck."

"I'll just give it a shot." He gently takes your arm off him, tucking you in before he even goes to the window.

You sigh, he knows you'd roll your eyes if they were open. He struggles, putting all his weight, trying to get your window to slide and close. And you sit on the bed, turning the little lampshade on your nightstand to see your boyfriend fighting with your bedroom window in his underwear.

"Jay, just come to bed," you insist, and as tempting as it sounds, he won't give up.

"You'll waste a lot on heating this room,"

"My heating doesn't even work." You yawn, and he turns back, staring at you in disbelief.

"Babe," You could feel the lecture coming after that sigh, so you beat him to it.

"My lease is up in a few months, I'll move before the winter, and it'll be my landlord's problem,"He doesn't seem content with your explanation, but takes it anyway. It's better than arguing at six thirty in the morning on a Sunday.

"Fine," He mutters, slowly dragging his feet back to bed with you. "I'm still fixing that window tomorrow "

You called him, all giggly and drunk, asking if he could pick you up from your friend's birthday. He had been waiting for you to do so, and insisted that no matter how late, he'd drop whatever he's doing and drive you home. So he shreds the Red Hood gear, hides it under a false bottom on the trunk of his car, and drives to whatever location you sent him. You're especially handsy, clinging to him as soon as you could. Greeting him with a big toothy grin before tugging on his jacket to lean him down so you could kiss him. Your friends cheer, and he pulls away embarrassed. Since when do you like PDA? He lets out a nervous laugh as you wave your goodbyes to your friends, walking out wrapped around his arm.

You don't stop praising him the entire ride to your apartment, telling him how good of a boyfriend he was, how perfect he was, and listing everything you liked about him. Completely unaware of how his face was burning red, the blush reaching up to his ears. You even reached to kiss his cheek on a red light. He just makes you settle down on your seat, asking you to sit still for the reminding blocks, muttering a low "Jesus fucking Christ"

Jason all but had to drag you to your elevator, and you're all giggles when he asks you to give him your keys when he can't find his. You hold them out in front of you, but when he goes to take them, you're fast to grab his jacket once more to kiss him. What the hell, he thinks, might as well give you what you want. So he pushes your back against your door, your lips parting in a gasp when he pushes his knee in between your legs.

That's when another door next to you slowly opens and an old man peeks his head out to see what's going on. Your entire demeanor changes, hiding behind Jason and whispering: "Please, open the door".

"I'm sorry," He apologizes.

"Ah, no worries," The man pushes open his door a bit more and Jason doesn't miss the way he's eyeing you"Do you need any help?"

"We're good," He does a great job of pretending to be cordial but firm "goodnight"

You're quick to walk inside, tugging on his sleeve so he would follow you. Putting on every lock on your door as soon as you're both inside, clearly shaken by the presence of your neighbor. He decides to have some mercy and question you about it tomorrow when you're sober. But that night, he didn't push you when you said you were okay, and only helped you get undressed and ready to go to bed before he left out of one of your working windows.

A few weeks later, he caught that same man trying to open your door. You wouldn't be home in a couple of hours, that's why he went ahead and did some much-needed grocery shopping for you. He just cleared his throat behind him, startling him and intimidating him from his height alone. Jason had broad shoulders, and even behind his clothes, the man could tell that he had the muscles needed to beat him up quite badly.

"I just wanted to come in and say hello, but her door's always locked," He explains, Jason stays quiet. Why wouldn't it be? But more importantly, has he tried to break in before? The guy can see the set of keys in his hand, brows furrowing as he thinks "You're her boyfriend, right?"

"Yes" His reply is short, as he eyes him up. Assessing weak points and how fast he could take him down if needed.

"And I take it you live with her?"

"I do,"He lies, hitting the man's shoulder as he walks past him to get to the door "and back off"

His warning is enough to scare him as he nods walking back to his apartment as fast as he can. You've got some explaining to do once you get back. And you do, he calls you to sit on the couch with him as you thank him for taking care of the groceries. You had already started to talk about what to make for dinner and what movie you could watch together before he left when he interrupted you.

"Baby,"You stop, recognizing the stern tone that just screams don't play with me "is there anything you wanna tell me?"

You shake your head no, and he shifts closer to you before insisting: "not even about your neighbor who tried to break in today?"

"Mr. Davis?" You sigh defeated, "He's just an idiot, a harmless idiot"

"So that's his name," He raises an eyebrow, already planning how to fuck with this guy's head in a way that will leave him too afraid even to get out of his place for the rest of his life. "Why didn't you tell me about it?"

"Because you get all scary like this!" You push his shoulder, effectively doing nothing "I can tell you're coming up with some strange way to scare him"

"I'm not!" He lies, looking away and telling you all you needed to know to see you were right.

"You are!" You laugh, the tension suddenly dissipating as you grab one of the decorative pillows to hit him. He takes the pillow from your hands and throws it away, before he can even think of retaliating; you're straddling him, and his hands went to your waist by instinct alone "Promise you won't do anything"

"Don't make me lie," He pleads, and you roll your eyes at the cheeky smirk on his face."You said you wanted pizza and to watch a horror movie? Right?"  

"Jason"

"Fine, I promise" He gives in, and you smile before he adds: "not to leave him with injuries that'll last for the rest of his life"

He's barely had time to say hello and explain how tired he was after training before you were on him. He was expecting a quick peck on the lips as always, he always kisses you when he sees you; it's routine. But when he notices your devious smirk before pulling him in he knows you're up to something.

"Mind if I take a shower first?" He asks, hands on your waist, keeping you in place. Since when is your hello kiss a hello make out?

You shake your head no, but follow behind him to your bedroom. He shakes his head, scoffing as he sits on your bed to take off his shoes. You sit behind him, peppering kisses on the side of his face and then his neck.

"Needy, aren't we?" He smiles, turning to kiss you. He melts into your lips, a hand cupping the back of your head as yours sneak under his clothes before pulling up his shirt to help him out of it. "C'mon princess, 'm filthy"

"Don't care,"you sighed against his lips, hands finding their way under the waistband of his sweatpants. "I like you like this."

"Okay," He laughs nervously, and takes your hands off him.

"Ask me to join you in the shower." You offer

"Yeah?" You nod along him, smiling.

Then he hears it. Tap, tap, tap. It's an insufferable noise coming from your bathroom. Do you not hear it? He takes a deep breath so it won't get to him. He's with you now, and somehow you're trying to get into his pants just 'cause. There's no way he's ruining this with you, so he kisses you again, trying to knock the air out of your lungs in the hopes it'll silence the incessant noise. It doesn't. Not even when he grabs your hips to guide you to straddle him. Not even when he hears your pretty moans of his name, begging for more. And not even when you grind on him, making his breath stutter.

"I'm sorry," Jason stops you, your big eyes staring at him as you wait for him to speak. He almost forgets what he's going to say, too lost in your gaze to form words but (un)luckily the dripping noise pulls him out of it. "what's that noise?"

"What noise?" Your tone is soft, almost curious. Did you really not hear it? Or had you become too accustomed to it?

"Your bathroom..." He licks his lips, his eyes involuntarily going to yours. He quickly moves up his sight before he speaks: "Do you have a leak?"

"Oh, yeah" You smile, like it's the most common thing in the world "it's my faucet, but I've already called my landlord, and said he couldn't get it fixed until next week"

"Really?" He raises one eyebrow, anger boiling up inside him as he tries to hold it back. Maybe he should pay a visit to your landlord without your knowledge too; you couldn't be living in these conditions anymore. He sighs and pushes it back, he knows you wouldn't like it "You know, I could get some tools and fix a couple of things for you"

"Maybe later" You suggest your hands lifting up your shirt before he stops you.

"Ten minutes, I have a safe house nearby" He's blushing now.

He's faster than ten minutes, you know because you barely sat down to read a couple of pages before he was back. You put the book down to watch something way more entertaining, your boyfriend doing things for you.

"Baby,"

"Yeah?"

"Not much seems to work around here," He sighs, your eyes laser focused on how his arms flex as he tightens your leaking faucet, effectively fixing it in just a few seconds. Something you were told you had to wait a week for. "Plus, you've got a creepy neighbor that you won't let me beat up"

"hmm, It's closer to my job than my last place" You explain, half paying attention to what he's saying.

"You'll move out, won't you?" He's beating around the bush, avoiding what he actually wants to say.

"I already found a place, it's smaller, but it's a new building" You smile as you lean on the door frame; you almost laugh at your own joke before you say it "and I'm not bringing the creepy neighbor with me"

"Don't sign the lease," He blurts out, nervous. It's now or never.

"What? Why not?"

"Let's move in together," The serious stare he gives you leaves you speechless, he was ready for that? "I mean, I already spend a lot of time here... would be nice to have more space than half a drawer for my clothes"

He fidgets the wrench nervously waiting for your answer. He could take no for an answer, but it didn't mean it wouldn't shatter his heart in pieces. But just a few seconds later, not allowing him to overthink your lips twist up in a smile before you jump at him. He catches you not even taking a step back or loosing balance, but dropping the tool in the process. You're quick to kiss him all over his face, your lips never staying on the same place for more than a few seconds.

"I'd love that, you can have a full drawer if you want" He scoffs as he kisses you again, slowing down your sudden burst of energy

"You're gonna fuck me in the shower now?"

"Yes" He nods, poorly concealing his excitement.

[rayne-astrophile]

i think i'm getting into another fandom :"D

Mashle x Reader Headcanons

When they were sick for the first time after getting into a relationship with you

Mash

Bro doesn't realise that he's sick

You have been pointing it out since morning, but he doesn't want to listen

He rarely gets sick, after all

So when he finally accepts the fact that he's actually sick, you help him get into bed

Nothing much happens, he's obedient

Until you give him medicine

He throws up after eating a pill

"T-Too bitter...."

You have to mix the medicine with the cream puff

At first, he'll be like "???" because the cream puff tastes like the medicine he threw up

But he finishes anyway, because it's the cream puff you made for him

After that, you give him another one to make up for that trick cuz you feel bad

He'll ask you to cuddle with him in his bed

He's a large teddy bear

The next day, he's already well, but you get sick because of the cuddle from last night

He'll ask Lance to help him take care of you ❤️

Lance

This man refuses to accept the fact that he's sick

"I'm not sick, I never get sick, I can't get sick because Anna needs me-"

"Anna will be upset if you don't take care of yourself."

And on the bed he goes

Nothing much to do, he can take medicine well

But he can't take it when you want to feed him porridge that you cook for him

"Stop, I'm not a child!"

"C'mon, this is the only time I can be romantic with you!"

After an argument that you barely win, you get to feed him

His cheeks are red when you reach out a spoonful of porridge, but the delightful smile on your face makes him eat anyway

It's true, both of you never have romantic moments together

He always focuses on healing Anna, and you respect that

You don't complain at all, and he's definitely grateful for that

For not leaving him because he puts his priority on someone else instead of you

Welcome to reality guys, family matters more than lover

That's why he doesn't mind it when you stay with him the whole day

This moment is the only time he spends with you, with you alone

Before, whenever he gets sick, he's always by himself

So when he has you, he's so grateful

For your love and patience for him

The next day, everything went back to normal

Both of you will act like usual, like friends do instead of lovers

Except for the fact that he always stands by your side instead of being beside Mash, Dot or Finn

It's a small change, you barely noticed it but you do anyway

And that just makes you love him more ❤️

Rayne

He knows that he's sick

The moment he wakes up, he knows there is something wrong with him and figures that he has a fever

But man doesn't care

He has a job, and he doesn't care about himself

But he has you, and you care for him

At first, you don't notice it

But when your hand accidentally brushes his, you can feel that he's burning

But he's quick to deny it

"Rayne! You're sick-"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

You force him to rest, but you know how he is

You give up and ask Wahlberg to give Rayne a one-day break, and he immediately agrees

He knows that lad needs rest too

So you come to Rayne, the wide grin on your face makes him furrow his eyebrows

"I asked Wahlberg-san to give you a one-day break. So let's rest!"

He sighs

"You're truly a stubborn one, aren't you?"

"You are, too!"

But he knows, that is one of the reasons why he falls in love with you

He lets you take him back to his dorm and tuck him to bed

You tend his needs; food, medicine and check his temperature from time to time

You never leave his side, and he doesn't complain

When the class time comes, he lets you go. He thinks he's not important enough for you to skip classes, so he tells you to go to class

You did go to class anyway, because you know he won't be a brat and get off the bed until you're back

After the class session, you go back to his dorm to check on him

When you arrive, he's sleeping

He looks so cute in his bunny blanket

You try to not make a sound, but when you touch his forehead to check on his temperature, his eyes snap open, startling you

He immediately sits up despite your protest

"I made some notes for you. You can catch up with the syllabus later, but you need to rest now."

He's grateful that he chooses you to be his partner

You make him a porridge and he lets you feed him without a word

This makes you happy, because you never have such moments with him

Rayne is a busy man. He never really has time for you, but you understand

So you treasure this moment so much

After feeding him, you tuck him back to bed and put a damp towel on his forehead to ease the temperature

When you think that he's sleeping, you play with his hair while sitting beside the bed happily

Little did you know, he's awake all along

He likes it when you play with his hair. It's soothing

When the night comes, you ask his roommate to switch with you for a night

At first, Rayne says that it is unnecessary, but you are his girlfriend, you have the right to be worried

You sit on a chair beside the bed, telling him about your day

He listens of course. This is the only moment he can spend his time with you, after all

Then, when you're getting sleepy, you rest your head on your palm as your elbow rests on the bed as you talk to him

He notices that you are getting sleepy

"Come, get on the bed." He offers

You had done everything for him today

You tend his needs, go to class, and stay by his side without break

He doesn't even know if you take your meal or not

So sharing a bed with you is the least he can do

At first, you refuse because you don't want him to be uncomfortable

But when he insists, you happily agree

You would take as small space as you could on the bed as you're still worried that he might get uncomfortable

But then he grabs your hand and pulls you into his embrace, shocking you

"Rayne...?"

He rests your head on his chest as his warmth engulfs you

"Don't talk. Just sleep,"

You try to raise your head to look at him, but he pushes your head back against his chest

But you can hear his heart beating fast

"....I'm sorry I can't spend time with you." You hear him mutter. "I can't give you attention like any other boyfriend does. I can't even spare a glance at you some days. Yet you're still here for me," You can't help but feel your heart ache at the vulnerability in his voice. You take his hand from your head and hold in yours as you raise your head to look at him. "I told you I love you, didn't I?" You smile softly at him. "It doesn't matter if you don't have time for me or if you can't give attention to me. I choose to love you." He can feel his heart skip a beat as you grin. "And you can't stop me from loving you, you should know that."

He shoves your face back to his chest as you let out a muffled 'oof'

You can hear his heart beating faster, making you smile

Oh, how you love this man

You wrap your arms around him and giggle

"I guess I need to wait until you get sick again to get your affection like this,"

"Oh, shut up."

I just love this man so much

[shaunamilfman]

Dating Rhiannon Lewis HC's

pairing: Rhiannon Lewis x reader note: she's my pathetic, desperate, clingy gf so get your own.

Throws out an ily on the third date and tries so pathetically hard to play it off. “I love youR SHIRT. It's such a nice shirt.” Before running off to the bathroom to hide. She's so smooth. Pacing back and forth in front of the mirror for ten minutes before she manages to gather enough courage to come back to you and pretend nothing happened.

Keeps score of who’s texting who first and how often. It doesn’t stop her from still texting first, though.

Cannot ever get her hands out of your hair. She's so fucking gentle about it, caressing your hair and gently scratching at your scalp with her nails. Won't go near your hair on her bad days. Running her fingers along the back of your neck instead of your scalp. Fingers flexing like she wants to touch it but won't. Just doesn't trust herself not to hurt you. 

Always makes the house so fucking cold when you sleep over so you're forced to cuddle with her for warmth. Her ass is running around the whole house opening windows and creating drafts in the twenty minutes she has in between your text and when you arrive. Oh, also, all the blankets are in the wash but hers. So sad, guess you'll just have to share. Mysteriously, all of your long-sleeve shirts have disappeared too. Weird. 

Makes you do those stupid couple quizzes in magazines.

Rhiannon “We have food at home” Lewis. Once the initial excitement about having people to go out with dies down, she comes to an important realization: the more the two of you are out, the more you're exposed to dating options that aren't her. That's just not allowed. Doing anything and everything she can to keep you at home short of telling you to get your ass back inside. 

God forbid you try to go out somewhere without her. Why would you need to go see your friends while she's stuck late at work? Who's going to walk with her to the bus station? She starts asking so many questions about it, sounding so hurt that you eventually cave and don’t go. It’s not blatant manipulation, not when it’s you, but it’s usually enough to have you rethinking the whole thing anyway.

So jealous, but won’t directly say anything about it. Just starts holding onto your hand tightly with this strained look on her face.

She always misplaces your things when you're going out, or just if it suits her better. Your car keys? She hasn't seen them. The shirt you were going to wear that she doesn't much care for? You probably lost it. Here, she found her personal favorite of your shirts, though. You’ll find the other shirt mysteriously hung back up neatly in your closet the next day, like nothing ever happened.

Rhiannon wearing your shirts when she knows you're looking for them to entice you to stay home. Laying back on the bed, pouting up at you. Long sleeves that her hands just barely peek out of. “What, are you looking for this?” Making you give her a kiss if you want your shirt back to go to work. Maybe even two if she’s feeling greedy.

Tries to fix all your problems for you the second you mention them to her.

So incredibly clingy. If you're with her, you're with her. Sitting on the counter, talking to you while you cook or while you take a shower. You step out, and she's holding the towel out for you. Makes a show of breathing hot hair on it and pretends she was keeping it warm for you. You wake up every time with all four of her limbs wrapped around you, no matter how the two of you actually fell asleep.

She texts you about the weather all the time just as an excuse to talk to you.

So incredibly sensitive. Bottom lip trembling and tearing up because you said you weren't sure if you'd be able to make drinks with her coworkers tonight. Her ass trying to play it cool all like, “That's fine 🥺.“

Detailed plans for any outing she takes you on.

She plays those like little girlfriend games all the time. The like, "Would you love me if I was x, if I did y, if z happened?” Just hours and hours of it. It starts off so innocent and teasing, but it ends up getting really serious and real specific. “Would you still love me if I, like, killed someone? Accidentally. Hypothetically, of course.”

Gets really drunk one night and starts trying to get a concrete list of breakupable offenses. Pulls out this like color-coded Excel file of info with terms and conditions and shit. She takes this girlfriend stuff seriously, bro. Debating the details of it like she’s making a contract.

Stalks your socials all the time.

I just know Rhiannon pulls those like "ten tricks to keep a man" shit they have in those magazines on you. Goes down it in a list deciding what you react the best to. Tries maintaining eye contact for a freaky long time until you finally call her out on it. Insists that it’s not what she’s doing, but you realize she’s hidden all her magazines from you the next day.

Double, triple, quadruple texter. You better not fall asleep on her, or her ass will be knocking on the door within a few hours.

She likes to surprise you with dates, but she’s so horrifically bad at it. She gets nervous and ends up asking you a billion different questions about things you like, that by the time you get to the date you’ve basically already planned it all for yourself anyway. Rhiannon looks so proud of herself that you can’t bear to say anything about it.

You catch sight of her search history over her shoulder one night, and it’s like twenty variations of “What to do on a date.” / “What to say on a date.” / “Where to go to dinner in…”

[luveline]

Ok what about a lil fic of Remus being snappy with his gf leading up to the full moon? Just some angst and then fluffy ending with them reconciling

thank u for ur request! —remus says something he shouldn't before the full moon, and later campaigns for your forgiveness with affection and a confession. fem!reader, 1.2k

Remus lays on the couch with his forearm pressed to his eyes. It's the day before the full moon, and he feels the hours approaching like a death sentence every time. You hover in the doorway, watching, unsure of how to help. He gets the same every month (or rather, every cycle). 

Irritable. So anxious he can't breathe properly, let alone enter conversation. 

You hate seeing him like this. Your Remus, who spends every moment you're together trying to make sure you're as happy as you can be. 

Cautious, you round the sofa to crouch by his face. You hold out your hand, trailing a gentle fingertip down the length of his arm, tripping over pinched skin ridged by scars. He's beautiful no matter what, but he gets insecure about how he looks every full moon. You know he thinks he's a monster. You've no way to prove it to him beyond this. 

"Hey, handsome," you say softly. "I know you're not hungry, but I made dinner anyway if you feel up to it. And I know," —you drop your voice to a near whisper— "I know you're not in the mood, but I'm here. I can sit here and stroke your hair in silence all night if that's what you want, my love. I'll do whatever you want." 

"Then leave me alone," he says. 

Half snap, half firm defeat. You wince at the ire in his voice. It won't ever be nice to have someone you love speak to you like you're getting on their nerves, but you know what it is he's facing. You know this is hard for him to cope with. You can forgive him for everything if he makes it through this in one piece. 

"Okay. I'm sorry. I love you, Remus." 

He turns his head toward the sofa cushions. 

You leave the room with a heavy heart. In the kitchen, you try to eat, but every mouthful makes you feel sick, your eyes welling with tears as you chew. You're hurt, he's hurting, and this really, really sucks. 

The smell of dinner starts to amplify the nausea. You grab your plate and carry it to the back door, scraping your leftovers straight into the rubbish. You wash your plate and leave it to drip dry on the draining board, your eyes burning. You sniff, wiping your nose in your sleeve. 

You're hoping desperately that Remus will come around before bed, but he stays where he is. Thinking he's finally found sleep and wanting to leave him to that blissful reprieve, you creep through the living room and down the hallway into the bedroom. Tears fall as you change into your pyjamas. You're so tired that you barely have time to cry yourself to sleep. 

You're not sure how much longer it is when you wake. A familiar hand cups your cheek. 

From the warmth of your skin, he's had his hand there for a while. 

"I'm so sorry," Remus says. 

You don't know how he knows you're awake. He must have been watching you long enough to spot the difference. Honestly, you're not sure you want to see him yet, because you love him so much, and it breaks your heart to be at the end of his disdain even when you know the cause. 

You struggle to see him in the dark. 

"I should never have spoken to you like that." 

Your eyes close of their own accord, exhausted and sore from crying. "You didn't mean it." 

"I wish you'd shout at me," he murmurs, sliding his hand over your ear. His thumb draws along the shell of your ear. 

"I'm too tired," you mumble. 

Remus' head shifts closer to yours. Sharing the same pillow, his hand falls to your shoulder, his arm wrapping around you, a firm bicep pressed to your front. 

You let yourself lean into it. His breath warms the space between your brows. 

"It's no excuse, but I… I can't think of anything else but the pain, sometimes. I get so angry about it, because I'm–" He stops short, swallowing audibly in the otherwise silent room. "I'm scared. But I would be a hundred times more terrified if I didn't have you, knowing you're there for me, unflinchingly, before and after it happens, it helps me get through it. It's not fair that you give me so much peace and I just… 

"I'm sorry, dove. I don't mean to take advantage of your… heart." He says heart like he's been winded. He hadn't sounded finished, but everything stops at that word. 

You force your eyes open. He's looking at you with an unspeakable amount of love, kind to keel you over if you were standing. His eyes are pitch black in the lack of light, irises melded with pupils, giving him an even sorrier gaze. You raise a sluggish hand to his where it rests behind your back and pull it back to your face. You miss his touch. 

"I love you," you say. 

"I know," he says, his jaw tensing in an attempt to stage off tears. "I love you, too." You watch them collect in the corners of his eyes, following one as it slides to rest in the dip of his nose bridge while he lies on his side like this. 

"So don't be sorry." 

"But I am sorry. I can't fathom why I think it's okay to treat you that way." 

"You don't think at all, Remus. I'm not being flippant, but you're busy worrying about the worst of it." You shake your head gently. His hand twitches against your cheek. "I don't blame you." 

"I know," he utters. 

You stare up at him as he sits enough to tower over you. His smile is sorry, in love and ashamed. You want to tell him how it doesn't matter, that it's okay, but you're thinking maybe you need him to say it first. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Remus, you only told me to leave you alone." 

"I need you to know that any other time, you're all that I want. You're everything. I couldn't ask for more than you. Please don't think I'm cruel," he pleads in a whisper. 

You lift your chin incrementally. "I'd never think that." 

His apology kiss is coddling. Like he's worried he'll hurt you, like he's holding back, he kisses you like you can't handle more than a chaste press of the lips. 

"I love you," he says into it. 

You lift your head to kiss him harder. You love him, and you won't break. You can be exactly as strong as he needs you to be, so long as love waits at the end of the night. 

"I love you." A huff of a laugh escapes him. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?" Caution has his joke falling flat.

You nuzzle your cheek against his, knowing you'd forgiven him just as soon as he'd snapped. "If you let me stroke your hair. Did you eat your dinner?" 

"I'll eat it tomorrow," he says. A white lie, you both know, but he slides down further under the sheets so you can reach his head. 

You card your fingers through his hair until you've both fallen asleep. 

[rainrot4me]

Run Rabbit Run - Chapter 3

“Claws”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

────────────────────────────────── animal - sir chloe

── .✦ do not copy, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. dividers by me.

MAY CONTAIN SENSITIVE TOPICS

✦ . Summary: Haunted by guilt and unnerved by how easily you saw through him, Masky spirals into isolation. But when the Operator delivers a new order, the proxies set a deadly plan in motion, dragging you into the night as bait for something far worse. Secrets unravel, instincts clash, and the forest comes alive. And for the first time, blood won't be the only thing spilled.

✦ . Characters: Masky x Genderneutral Reader, Ticci Toby, Hoody, The Rake

✦ . Warning: Mental distress, emotional distress, blood, injury, guns, descriptions of wounds, chase sequences, trauma

✦ . Words: 7.9k

✦ . Note: Thank you all so much for 4,000 lovely followers!!! Longer chapter! I took my last final exam this morning, so that means I am officially done for the summer! My schedule will become more open, so expect lots more posts soon! There are a good bit of POV switches in this chapter, so I hope it doesn't become too confusing! I hope you enjoy how the story is progressing!!!

────────────────────────────────────────────

Eight Days Earlier…

He didn’t go downstairs.

Not once. Not even to glance.

He told himself it was strategy, a control maneuver, or tactical distance.

But every time he so much as passed the basement door, something twisted in his gut like barbed wire. A feeling he couldn’t place—too sharp to be guilt, too heavy to be fear, but too loud to be nothing.

You were down there. The cop. The one who saw too much in that interrogation room, who cut through layers of static and noise and found him in the middle of it all. You shouldn’t have been able to. No one ever had before without the influence of The Operator, not even Brian, not even Toby, not even himself. The Operator had twisted him, no, gutted him so brutally that Tim was barely a whisper in his mind anymore. Masky was the frontman now, and he was to remain in control as long as he was ordered to. 

So, how did Tim front?

All he could think about was the look in your eyes right before the world had shifted—right before Tim’s voice had clawed its way out of his throat and pleaded for you to listen. He couldn’t have stopped it if he tried.

Masky spat the taste of ash out of his mouth and lit another cigarette. The porch was damp with dew, the fog thick enough to press against the edges of his vision. The mansion was quiet, only the creaking of hinges and settling of floorboards as Masky leaned against the railing of the porch. The smell of cigarette smoke was thick on his jacket, but it always was nowadays. It was morning, maybe, or evening. It didn’t matter anymore. The days blended together like one long scream muffled through his own skull. All he knew was it was August, and the nights were getting colder than he preferred them to be.

He hadn’t slept since they brought you here. That’s not saying much, he doesn’t sleep at all anyway. Not really. Not since he started talking again.

Tim clawed behind his eyes like a desperate animal, whispering in his own voice, hissing nonsense and fragments of your name, begging—begging—to be let out. Masky had nearly thrown himself into the lake just to shut him up.

“You look like shit,” Toby said casually, flopping beside him on the warped porch railing. He stole the cigarette from Masky’s fingers and puffed it for himself. “You gon-gonna do anything about your stowaway in the basement? Or wait until the bo-boss gets tired of ‘em first?” Masky didn’t answer, just stared out into the trees and let the smoke curl from his nose.

Honestly, that was Masky’s main fear at the moment. The Operator liked the be in control, liked to have a say on where and when his proxies did things. Taking you back to the mansion was not in the plan, but getting himself caught and taken to the police station wasn’t in the plans, either. Masky figured it was only a matter of time before The Operator’s patience with him ran out.

Toby nudged him with a shoulder. “Oh come on, they’re gonna starve the-themselves first if we keep feeding ‘em expired protein bars.” He let the smoke roll from his lips with every word, gray plumes hazing from the wilting gash in the side of his cheek. Unlike the other two, Toby didn’t wear his mask as a safeguard; he had no qualms with his appearance or the things going on in his head, so Masky usually had the displeasure of always seeing his shit-eating grin plastered on his freckled cheeks. “Not very gentleman-like to hoard your new play-plaything down with the rats.”

“Shut up.”

“Touched a nerve,” he sang.

“Toby,” Hoody’s voice cut in from the doorway, flat and low. “That's enough.”

The hooded man stepped outside, arms crossed, unreadable behind his mask. He looked at Masky for a long moment.

“Are we going to talk about yesterday?” Hoody questioned sternly, crossing his arms. “Or are you going to keep pretending it didn’t happen?”

Masky didn’t answer. Toby watched quietly.

“Because I’d really like to know,” Hoody pressed, stepping closer. “How the hell a you got yourself dragged into a police station? That’s not just a mistake, that’s a risk to all of us.”

“I handled it,” Masky muttered.

“No,” Hoody said sharply. “We handled it.” The words hung between them like a pit. Masky’s eyes flicked up, his jaw tensing.

“Don’t start with me.”

“I will end with you if you keep putting us in danger,” Hoody snapped. “You know what we are, what we do. We don’t exist in the system. We don’t leave fingerprints. You getting picked up like some drunken vagrant for trespassing? That’s not a fluke, that’s a breach.”

“You wouldn’t care to know anyway.”

“Then explain it,” Hoody demanded. “Why were you even in that part of town?”

Masky inhaled sharply through his nose. He didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to explain how the walls of the mansion had been closing in, how the Operator had been pressing harder than usual, coiling in his brain like smoke through vents. How Tim had been clawing louder and louder inside his head, and all Masky could think to do was run. Get air. Go somewhere he didn’t have to feel so damn watched.

“I needed a break,” Masky muttered finally. “Got too far out. Wasn’t paying attention. Ended up near some abandoned warehouse. Didn’t know it had surveillance. Cops picked me up for trespassing, then got all over themselves when they realized I still had my gun on me.”

Hoody’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “That ‘break’ nearly got you booked.”

“They barely had anything on me, could barely pin a name. There’s no way in hell they could trace anything back, especially now that their entire sanction is dead.”

Hoody didn’t move, didn’t speak, but his presence in the room seemed heavier now—oppressive.

“And the sheriff?” he said coldly.

Masky gripped the banister of the porch.

“They were the one who read you,” Hoody went on. “The one who watched you like they already knew what you were. They talked you down like a rabid dog.”

Masky ground out the rest of his cigarette.

“They got lucky.”

“They got too close. And you brought them back here.”

Masky turned sharply, throwing his hands up in agitation. “I didn’t plan it, Hoody. I didn’t go in there looking to bring them back here.”

“Then why?”

Masky didn’t answer.

Because he didn’t know how to explain it. How strange it felt to have someone look through him like glass. How furious it made him when you asked questions that got too close to the truth—closer than anyone else ever had. And how terrified he’d been when Tim stirred because of you. Tim had been loud enough, but it was as if being talked down by you was the final push he needed to block Masky out.

Hoody stepped forward. “They got under your skin,” he said, no judgment in his tone—just fact.

Masky groaned sharply, fist tightening at his side. “Shut up.”

“You dragged them into this. You made them a part of his game now.”

Masky pressed his forehead against the hilt of his palm, breathing heavily, his other fist tight at his side. “I didn’t mean for any of this,” he growled. “But no way in hell was I going to let someone who ran around my head like a playground go scot-free.”

“They’re dangerous then,” Toby mumbled, rolling the nearly-empty cigarette around between his bandaged fingers. “We gotta kill ’em. Simple solution, end of story. Th-That’s what should’ve happened in the first place.”

He turned, face unreadable behind the cracked porcelain mask. “They’re not special. Not important. They’re information I plan to gain and then dispose of.”

Hoody’s silence stretched for a long beat. Then he stepped back toward the doorway. “For your sake,” he said quietly, “you better start believing that.”

Masky was already walking before Hoody finished the sentence, boots crunching the damp leaves as he stalked into the trees. He wandered for hours, maybe longer. The forest blurred around the edges, familiar and unknowable all at once. He liked it out here. The quiet was never silent—not like the house. Birds called, branches creaked, wind whispered through the canopy like some old god breathing overhead.

It kept Tim quiet, too. Most of the time. He lit another cigarette with shaking fingers. Hands that slit throats without flinching now trembled around a lighter.

“You’re slipping,” he whispered to himself, voice raw with exhaustion. “Get it together.”

But no matter how many hours passed…

No matter how many trees he passed or cigarettes he burned down to the filter or cups of coffee he downed until his hands went numb—

He still couldn’t stop thinking about you. Not what you said, not what you knew. But what you unlocked. And what it would cost to shut it again.

It was after midnight when Masky finally stopped walking. He always forgot just how big the woods surrounding the mansion were, designed entirely to accommodate not only the inhabitants, but to drive any unwanted company straight for their demise. It drew you in, whispered to you through wind and shadows. Masky had lost his fear of this place a long, long time ago, though.

He stood at the edge of a crumbling ravine, the moon bleeding through the branches overhead like a knife wound in the sky. Somewhere below, water trickled faintly, weaving through jagged rocks. The drop wasn’t high enough to kill him, but it might shut Tim up for a while.

He tilted his head back, letting the smoke drift past his mask, up into the dark. The cigarette burned close to his fingertips, and he let it. Let the sting remind him he was still here. Still in control.

Still the one driving.

But that wasn’t true, was it?

Tim was awake. More awake than he’d been in months. Pounding at the inside of his skull. Screaming, whispering, crying.

That was the worst part.

It wasn’t rage Masky felt behind his eyes. It wasn’t revenge or hunger or madness. It was grief. Longing. That aching, open wound of a man who’d never healed.

And all of it—all of it—was aimed at you.

Masky ground the heel of his boot into the dirt. “They didn’t do anything,” he hissed. “You’re just soft. You’re just—”

Let me talk to them, Tim whispered.

“No.”

Please.

It wasn’t the first time. It wouldn’t be the last.

But this time, the voice didn’t sound like an echo in his mind. It felt closer. Heavy in his chest, like an animal trapped beneath his ribs.

A bird, he realized, in a rare moment of clarity. A bird trapped in a cage.

Tim flapped against his bones like desperate wings. Bruising the inside of his skull, clawing at the corners of his consciousness for any sliver of light.

The cop had been that light. Even if they didn’t mean to be. Even if they didn’t want to be. They had seen him. Not the mask, not the killer. Him.

And Masky had slammed the cage shut.

“You think I like this?” he snarled at the nothing around him, the night listening silently. “You think I wanted to split open and find you crawling out like some pathetic kid?”

They didn’t flinch, Tim whispered.

“They should have. They all should.”

They looked at me like I was still a man.

Masky’s breath caught. Just for a moment. Just long enough.

And then he shoved the feeling deep, deep down where even Tim couldn’t reach.

He lit another cigarette with fingers that wouldn’t stop shaking. Somewhere in the mansion behind him, the sun would rise soon. Another day. Another hour. Another reason not to look them in the eyes.

Let Tim stay a bird and keep breaking his wings on the bars. Because if the door opened—if Masky let it open—then what was left of him wouldn’t survive it. The Operator wouldn’t let him.

── .✦

The mansion sat like a carcass in the woods, long dead and still refusing to rot. By the time he emerged from the trees, the sun had risen into a haze of gray and white, too dull to burn, too present to ignore. The light bothered him anyway. His head ached. His bones ached. His hands trembled from caffeine and cold and too many nights without anything but the taste of smoke in his mouth. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten something, maybe since the day they brought you here? He couldn’t tell.

Tim had been clawing at the edges again.

Go back down there, the voice whispered. You left them alone too long. They didn’t deserve that. Just talk to them. Just let me explain.

Masky grit his teeth and pushed the front door open. The hinges whined like they hated him. The house was quiet, that brittle kind of quiet that came before something broke. He didn’t have to wait long.

The pain hit his skull like a spike driven into the base of his brain. He grunted, stumbling forward, one hand braced on the wall, the other cradling the side of his head. A static hum swelled in his ears, rising to a shrill, high-pitched drone that split his thoughts in two. Everything stopped. The world folded inward. He saw nothing—but he felt it. A slithering presence like a rope coiling around his ribs, pressing into his mind with impossible weight.

THE WOODS TREMBLE.

AN OLD FRIEND STIRS.

YOU WILL CLEANSE IT.

The voice wasn’t a voice at all. It didn’t speak so much as press its meaning directly into the meat of his brain, bypassing sound and reason entirely. Masky gasped as the pressure twisted deeper. Something behind his eyes burned.

He wasn’t alone in the pain.

Toby stumbled in from the side hallway with a groan, scratching at his scalp like he could dig the Operator’s grip out with his nails. “Gah—fuckin’ ow, man—can he not do that every time?”

Hoody followed close behind, slower, more composed, but even he winced beneath the hood. He stood at the base of the stairs, arms folded, chest rising slowly. “It’s bad,” he said lowly. “He doesn’t summon like that unless something’s… distressing him.”

Masky tried to speak but choked on a cough. His knees buckled. He must have gotten caught up in The Operator’s guide in his mind, because someone else tried to slither their way in, too. For a second, Tim surged forward, panic bleeding through.

Let me out. Let me speak. LET ME—

Masky shoved him back with a snarl.

“Get it together,” Hoody barked.

“Don’t you start with me,” Masky hissed, voice ragged. “He’s in my goddamn skull.”

Toby’s smile was stretched wide and twitching now, equal parts anxious and excited. “Did you hear the boss? Something’s mo-moving in the woods—something nasty. Big teeth. Long claws. I love those jobs.” He laughed, cracking his knuckles obnoxiously loud.

“It’s the Rake,” Hoody said simply. “Or one of its spawn. Too close to the borders. The Operator wants it dead.”

“And let me guess,” Masky growled, straightening despite the tremors in his legs, “he wants us to babysit the woods all night, play exterminator while it stalks us from the trees?”

Hoody flinched, gripping his fists tight at his sides—a sign that The Operator was speaking again, just to him. “Not quite.”

The silence that followed crawled under his skin. Toby tilted his head like a dog hearing a distant whistle. Then that shit-eating smile grew. “He wants us to use the cop.”

Masky’s heart stalled.

“They’re bait,” Hoody said flatly. “They’re durable. And they draw attention. You know it too.”

“No,” Masky said instantly. “Absolutely not.”

Toby cackled. “Aw, come on, Masky. It’s not like they’re useful for anything else. And hey—ma-maybe if it eats ‘em, it’ll save you the trouble.” Masky’s fingers curled into fists. His mind buzzed. He could still see your face the last time he saw you—eyes wide, body trembling, the faint whisper of Tim on your breath.

“They’re a liability,” he snapped. “They’re not as fast as us. Or familiar with the woods. Or—”

“What happened to disposing of them?” Hoody said, voice like a blade. “That was your plan, right?”

Masky’s head whipped toward him.

“You’re unraveling,” Hoody continued, stepping forward slowly. “You haven’t slept in four days. You haven’t eaten. You walk around like a dog that’s lost its scent. Because they’re in your head. And he’s in your head. Tim’s not scratching anymore—he’s pounding.”

Toby let out a low whistle. “You gonna cry about it?”

Masky lunged.

Hoody caught his arm and shoved him back hard against the wall, pinning him in place with the force of someone who knew how to hold a struggling man down. “If you don’t get control, the Operator will cut you loose,” Hoody growled, eyes flashing behind the red-tinted fabric. “And you remember what that means. We all do.”

The thought of it silenced them. That kind of silence—the kind where pain leaves a memory so deep it becomes instinct. Masky breathed hard through his nose. Rage burned through him, bright and sharp. But under it… something worse. Guilt. Weakness.

Let me see them, the voice inside him pleaded again. Just let me explain. Let me apologize. I can’t take it anymore. I didn’t mean to—

Masky slammed the heel of his palm into the side of his head. “Shut up,” he muttered. “Shut the hell up.”

“You’re pathetic,” Hoody bit out, stepping forward, voice low and hard. “You’re the one who dragged them here, and now you can’t even look at them. You’re getting weak and sloppy.”

Masky looked up sharply, eyes flashing behind his mask. “You don’t get to talk like you’re any better.”

“I’m not,” Hoody agreed. “But I own what I am. You’re a mess of delusion and rot, letting some innocent nobody crack you open like a ribcage, and all you do is pace around like a dog too scared to go near the fire it started.”

Toby let out a low whistle and backed a few steps away, sensing the shift in the room. “Oooookay. I’ll just… go.”

“Shut it,” Hoody and Masky snapped in unison.

But Hoody didn’t take his eyes off Masky. “Since you can’t handle it,” he said, stepping toward the basement door and dragging on his gloves, “I will. I’ll get the information so you can get to the disposing part.”

Masky moved to block him on instinct. “Don’t touch them.”

Hoody stopped just inches from him. “I don’t have to. I just want to see what all this fuss is about. What Tim can’t stop clawing for.”

Masky stiffened.

Hoody’s voice dipped into something more scathing. “You think if you keep your distance, the problem will sort itself out. But it won’t, Masky. You’re rotting from the inside out.” With that, he turned and started down the stairs.

Masky stayed frozen where he stood, fists clenched so tightly the joints cracked. He stared at the wall, counting every age-line in the wooden boards. He saw Toby slip downstairs too, cheery as ever to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.

Go down there. Please. Just talk to them. Tim pleaded.

But the voice didn’t stop. It never stopped. Tim buzzed in the back of his skull like static under his skin, digging in deeper with every breath he took. Every heartbeat down in that basement. Every sob you swallowed just out of earshot. Masky could feel it all, like a splinter burrowed beneath the bone.

He snapped.

“Fine,” he hissed. “You want to see them so bad? You want to crawl back to your fucking mess and see what it did to you?” Masky stormed toward the door, vision red at the edges, rage boiling up to meet the sharp relief of decision. “Then we’ll look. We’ll see what’s left of them.”

His hand gripped the knob. Then he heard it.

A voice.

Not Hoody’s. Not Toby’s.

Yours.

Raw. Scratchy. Threadbare. So unlike the sharp, clever words you’d thrown at him that first day. Nothing steady or sure in it now—just a hoarse whimper, barely a breath through cracked lips.

It stopped him cold.

He didn’t hear the words. He didn’t need to. It was the sound. The sound of someone broken in a way that couldn’t be undone. Hollowed out and left to echo. Something in him twisted. It wasn’t Tim. It wasn’t Masky. It was just… human.

You sounded human.

Masky’s breath paused. He stood with his palm still pressed to the door, pulse hammering in his neck. That voice—it didn’t belong in the mansion. It didn’t belong in his world. It belonged somewhere quiet. Somewhere safe. And he’d dragged it here. Left it to rot, just like he was.

The next breath he took came out like a snarl.

He pressed the door open, boots crashing on the stairs, fury flooding his limbs again like gasoline on fire. How dare he even contemplate such thoughts.

If Tim wanted answers, then Tim could have them.

But not the way he wanted.

Not gently.

── .✦

Present Day…

The wind bit colder out here.

Branches whispered like teeth clacking, and the night closed around you like a vice. The mansion’s looming silhouette vanished behind the treeline, swallowed in black. You had woken up in the basement, so being dragged out to the sight of a mansion was more whiplash than it was worth. You stumbled as Toby dragged you forward by the wrist, humming off-key like this was some kind of walk in the park.

He hadn’t said much since hauling you from the basement. Just little things, mostly to himself, muttered phrases like “you’ll see,” or “it’s gonna be fun, yeah?” His grip never loosened. In the fogged moonlight of the forest, you could see him more clearly now. Toby wasn’t much younger than you, probably around the same age, but the wild look in his eyes and the stress lines creasing his face made it hard to tell. Just like the other two, the masks didn’t help, hiding away all the secrets they didn’t want you to see.

“Where are we going?” you croaked. Your voice was still raw, throat bruised from days of crying, screaming, then drowning. “Toby—what the hell is this?”

He just hummed, high-pitched and jittery. “A surprise, sheriff. Our boss wants to try some-something new. Play a little game, y’know.”

“Play?” you echoed, dread tightening in your stomach.

“You’ll find out soon,” he sang.

That was it. Being scared was one thing, but teetering on the edge of terrified was enough to push your reflexes to the precipice. Instinct surged up in you. Not fear—training. You were a cop. Or used to be. Whatever you were now, you weren’t helpless. You didn’t go through years of combat simulations and skills classes just to let some kid manhandle you around. What little strength you had left, it was enough. In one smooth motion, you twisted your wrist in his grip, threw your weight forward, and slammed your shoulder into his side. He hit the ground hard, a crack of impact echoing through the trees.

You stepped back, chest heaving, muscles bracing for retaliation. But Toby just laid there, arms sprawled.

Then… he started laughing. Choking, wheezing laughter, like it had knocked the air clean out of him but he still thought it was the funniest thing in the world. He rolled onto his knees, dropping his mask just enough to wipe his nose on his sleeve. His grin never dropped.

“That was good!” he chirped, teasing and sarcasm lacing his words. “Damn, you got some gu-guts, sheriff. Do it again, maybe I’ll land on a rock next time.”

You backed away, blood pounding in your ears. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Oh, so much,” Toby said brightly, pushing himself up without a flinch. “But pain? Not one of them. Don’t feel it. Born special, ‘s what my mo-mom said.” He winked, giggling to himself. Something cold slid down your spine.

Up on the ridge, two figures stood half-shrouded by branches, stopping their pace into the forest to access the damage you clearly didn’t afflict on Toby. Masky had his arms crossed. His posture screamed irritation, but his head tilted—just a little. As if sizing you up. Hoody said nothing, but you saw the faintest nod beneath his hood. Approval? Or calculation? You couldn’t tell.

The woods thickened as Toby shoved you forward again, but now his grip had changed. Lighter. Not respectful—but curious. “C’mon,” he said. “Can’t keep the Rake waiting.”

Toby walked ahead, swinging a flashlight, your flashlight from your utility belt they had taken from you, like a toy, letting the beam skate across tree trunks and tangled brush. Shadows danced behind him—sometimes yours, sometimes not, you couldn’t be sure. Every crunch of leaves underfoot echoed too loud. Every branch looked like it might reach out and wrap around your throat.

Hoody and Masky flanked you, quiet as phantoms. You couldn’t see their eyes, but you felt them. Watching your shoulders, your hands, your steps. Not guiding you—just waiting. For something.

The deeper you went, the worse it got.

The trees were wrong. Too tall. Too thin. They leaned like they were listening. You knew the woods. Had trained in them for search and rescues, camped with your friends, lived near them. But these felt sick. And somewhere in the distance, a low rustling, soft and rhythmic, followed in your wake.

You were being led. No—you were being delivered.

When the trees finally parted, it felt like stepping off a ledge. The clearing opened like a wound in the forest. Moonlight bled across the uneven earth, silvering tufts of dying grass. It was quiet—too quiet. No bugs. No wind. Just… stillness.

And then Masky stopped walking.

“This is it,” he muttered.

You turned toward him, your voice a hoarse rasp. “What is this? Why did you bring me out here?”

He didn’t answer. Hoody stepped forward, shoulders square. “The forest’s been disturbed. Our boss doesn’t like that.” Toby twirled in place beside you, humming something just off-key. “Something’s hun-hunting in his territory. So we’re hunting it.”

You stared at them, heart crawling up your throat. “So why am I here?” Masky gave a dark, dry chuckle, low and empty. “Bait.”

Your blood turned to ice. Toby clapped his hands like you’d won a prize. “Don’t worry, you get a head start.”

“What—?”

“You better start running,” he said, eyes wide behind the goggles. “I can already hear it.”

Your legs didn’t move. Hoody turned away like he’d already dismissed you. Masky took a step back into the treeline.

And then it hit you. They were leaving you here.

“What’s coming?” you asked, voice cracking as your gaze swept the woods. “What the hell is coming?!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Masky said, giving one glance back before retreating with the others. “You’ve got maybe a minute before it’s here.”

Panic detonated inside your chest. This wasn’t a game. This wasn’t some power play. This was survival.

You tried to think—assess, assess—but nothing came. No tactics. No strategy. Just cold, raw fear chewing through your thoughts like acid. You turned. Stumbled. Then ran.

Branches tore at your pant legs, the roots of trees so prominent in the ground that it seemed as if they were trying to run away themselves. The night swallowed your breath. And somewhere, not far behind, something began to move. Something fast. Something hungry.

Your feet hit the forest floor hard—too hard. Everything was too loud. The thud of your boots, the rasp of your breath, the snarl of branches snapping past your shoulders, the wind slicing against your raw throat.

Bait.

Masky’s words kept echoing, droning itself like you were nothing more than meat strung on a hook. You had no idea what was out there. But whatever it was, it had to be worse than them.

Why? Why drag you out here? Was this Masky’s revenge? Some sick punishment for what you’d said in that interrogation room? Or maybe—maybe this was part of the same game, some twisted test to see how long you last. See how fast you run. Or maybe they just didn’t care. Maybe they really were going to let whatever was out there rip you to shreds and be done with it. This is what you get for sticking your nose in other people’s personal vendettas for so long: someone finally gets to hurt you instead.

No. No, you weren’t going to let it end like this.

You pushed through the next tangle of brush, lungs burning. Every step jarred your body like a hammer. You hadn’t eaten in days. You were dehydrated, sleep-deprived, trembling from adrenaline and cold. Your muscles screamed, but your survival instinct was louder. You had to think. Where am I? How far from town?

You tried to remember the drive, the hazy bits you could see in-between losing consciousness. The turns, the winding road before they pulled you off the map. There’d been a stream. A distant highway hum. Lights, maybe. Somewhere east?

You slowed just enough to glance around. Moonlight lanced through the canopy in broken strips. You looked for elevation, shadows, any sign of clear sky that might suggest an opening. A road. A hill. Get to higher ground. Find the ridges of the mountains. Head east.

Your hand braced against a tree as your knees wobbled. Just one second. One second to catch your breath and—

A branch snapped. Not behind you, ahead. You froze, the little breath you had caught in your throat.

Then—movement. Not big. Fast. Low to the ground.

You didn’t see it so much as feel it—a flash of pale skin cutting between trees, limbs too long, too thin, moving on all fours like a starving animal.

It stopped.

Staring.

Eyes like hollow pits, glinting silver in the dark.

It smelled you.

And it grinned.

Your scream caught somewhere between your ribs and your throat. You turned—bolted again, blindly now. Crashing through brambles, your arms shielded your face as thorns ripped into you.

Behind you, something gave chase. No footfalls, no heavy steps, just a whisper of motion. A scrape against bark. A skitter. It was faster. So much faster.

You tripped—caught yourself—kept running.

Your legs felt like wet paper. Your chest cracked with every breath. Pain lit your sides like fire. You couldn’t do this, not in this shape, not after days in the dark, starving and broken.

But still you ran.

You weren’t a victim. You weren’t going to die out here like an animal. The trees blurred around you. A root caught your boot. You fell hard—knees smashing into cold earth. You rolled, gasping, and looked back—

Nothing.

Just trees. Moonlight. Silence. Your whole body quaked. Mud coated your hands. Blood ran down your arms where the thorns had caught you.

You sat up slowly, eyes scanning the dark.

Maybe it’s gone.

A whisper of breath behind your ear. You turned—

And saw it. Not twenty feet away. Crouched, still, grinning. Waiting.

And then—it leapt.

── .✦

Masky moved like a shadow between trees, boots crunching softly over dead leaves and hardened earth. His breath came out in shallow plumes, fogging in the crisp air. Beside him, Hoody was silent—almost ghostlike, gliding just beyond his periphery. Toby brought up the rear, far less graceful, singing something under his breath. They were spread just wide enough apart to cover ground, just close enough to regroup if it came to that.

The moon was high now, an ever-present light in the foggy sky.

The forest creaked and moaned in the wind. Every crack of a branch or scuffle of animal paws sent adrenaline spiking through Masky’s limbs, not from fear, but anticipation. Something was out here with them; he could feel it in the pressure behind his eyes, like a headache waiting to happen.

“He’s watching,” Toby chirped quietly, skipping a step to keep pace. “I can hear him, somewhere past the fo-footpath.”

Masky didn’t answer. Just pressed on. Hoody, ahead, slowed to a stop. He tilted his head, listening—then murmured, “West. It’s circling.”

Masky adjusted the course without a word. His fingers twitched at his sides. He could feel the pistol's weight hidden under his coat, the familiar itch in his spine. Fight or flight had long stopped applying to them; there was only attack.

“They should’ve run farther by now,” Hoody said humorlessly, glancing back. “Or at least screamed.”

“They’re probably dead,” Toby offered, a little too snarky. “Or pissing the-themselves. I’d be pissing myself.”

“You wouldn’t know. You can’t feel anything.”

“Exactly,” Toby beamed.

Masky gritted his teeth. His mind was loud again, not just from Toby or the ambiance of the woods, but from Tim.

We have to find them, Tim murmured, barely a whisper. They’re not ready for this. They don’t even know what it is.

“They’re bait,” Masky hissed under his breath.

Hoody turned his head slightly. “Now's not the time, Masky.” He ignored him.

Branches cracked to the east, and all three men froze. Toby’s grip on his hatchet tightened, holding it at the hilt against his side. Hoody’s hand brushed the revolver at his hip.

The sound came again. Louder. Not the careful steps of a hunter, but something running.

A scream tore through the density of the forest, breaching the silence of the trees like a gunshot. All Masky could think was how human you always sounded. The air snapped like a wire pulled too tight. Masky’s head lifted toward the sound, and his blood surged. The noise sliced into his chest before he could even register it—hoarse and raw and desperate. Nothing calculated about it. No edge. No charisma attached, just your fear.

“Let’s move,” Hoody said coolly, already changing direction. Toby nodded and vanished into the dark like a dog off his leash. Masky stood rooted for half a second longer.

Tim was screaming in his head now. Screaming with you.

Go. Please.

Masky’s fists clenched. His legs moved before he could think better of it. 

── .✦

Branches tore at your arms as you pushed through the underbrush, lungs burning, legs screaming. You didn’t know where you were going anymore—just forward, forward, anywhere but here. But it was fast. You could hear it now.

Behind you, beside you, above you.

A blur of pale limbs darted between trees in your peripheral vision, flashes of bone-white skin and gleaming black eyes catching the moonlight. It didn’t sound like it ran; it slithered, it crawled, it just kept grinning.

You stumbled, caught yourself on a tree, and shoved off again. Your body was failing, muscles trembling from starvation and cold, your stomach clenching with every jolt. Your throat was raw from sucking in gasps of air, your feet were blistered in your old work shoes, and the thing behind you—whatever it was—wasn’t chasing; it was herding.

Your foot caught on a root. You hit the ground hard again, cheek scraping bark and dirt. Before you could move, you felt it: hot breath on your neck. You turned with a scream just in time to see a long, narrow limb retract into the shadows. It had touched you, tasted the moment, and let you live. This wasn’t a chase; it was hunting, playing with its prey before tiring it out.

You were the rabbit in the snare.

Tears blurred your vision. You scrambled to your feet, every instinct firing off—cop or not, your brain only told you one thing—runrunrunrunrun.

You pushed through another clearing. The woods opened for a split second, moonlight spilling across the frostbitten grass. You looked around, desperate for a path, a road, a fucking miracle.

Nothing. No direction seemed safer than the other.

“Please…” you whimpered, staggering toward a cluster of trees. “Please, Jesus, fuck…”

Snap. Behind you.

You turned—and there it was, just standing. Bare, bony, and too long in every place that should’ve been short. Knees bent backward, mouth stretched far too wide across a gaunt, eyeless face, fingers so long they nearly scraped the ground. It cocked its head.

And smiled.

You screamed and bolted again. This time it didn’t wait. It lunged.

It clipped your back, sharp fingers slashing across your shoulder. You fell hard, rolling against the grass and roots bumping up. The pain was instant—hot, ragged coils of uncomfortable shock coursing through you. You crawled forward, heaving through air and tears. Your nails dug into the earth, pulling at tufts of grass as you drug your body against the ground.

“No—no, please, please—”

It crept forward slowly, shifting between two and four legs, inspecting your movements. You pushed yourself up, dizzy and bleeding through the torn fabric of your shirt. You felt the gush down your spine, the muscles of your shoulder blade twisting and separating in all the wrong places. It had gotten a deep gash, at least deep enough to feel the cool breeze of the night against the wound.

You reached back, trying to cup the wound and stop the bleeding with the shaky press of your palm—but it was no use. Your hand came away slick with blood. Too much blood.

The Rake paused a few yards away. Its head tilted with childlike curiosity. You thought it might pounce again—but it didn’t. Not yet. You stared at it, heart hammering so loud you could feel it in your teeth. And for the first time in your life, you knew true fear. Not adrenaline, not nerves, not the fear of losing a suspect or screwing up a report.

This was fear. Animal fear. Prey-and-predator fear.

Your mind ran wild. What the hell was this thing? You’d seen monsters in movies, you’d chased killers and psychos and men with dead eyes, but this—this was something else. This wasn’t a man. This wasn’t even right, it was never meant to exist in the same world as you.

What else is out here? You thought of the mansion. Of the others—Masky, Hoody, Toby. All of them dancing like puppets on strings, pulled by something ancient and evil. Your chest tightened. What the hell did I get dragged into? What else is hiding in those walls? In these woods?

A sob slipped from your throat. Your vision swam. You’re not going to make it to morning.

You clutched your chest, trying to suck in air, your back pressed against the wet bark of a tree. Your mind scrambled for a distraction, anything you could use. Could you throw something? Hide? Make a noise and bolt the other way? But there was nothing, no tricks left, no more fight in your legs.

The Rake took another step closer. You saw every line of muscle shifting under its sickly skin. It sniffed the air, stretched the gap of its mouth, and you broke. Your body crumpled forward and you began to cry—quiet at first, then deeper. Raw, painful sobs that wracked your already-wrecked frame. You pressed your face into your hands, begging something—anything.

Please. Please, don’t let it end here. Don’t let this be it. Please. You pleaded, hiding your face in your hands.

Thud. Your head snapped up. Another step, but not from the Rake.

Thud-thud-thud.

Heavy and purposeful, two sets were coming from beyond the treeline. The Rake froze, its entire body twitching like a hound catching the scent of something new. Its head turned toward the sound, its smile slowly curling into something less amused, less playful, and more agitated.

You blinked through your tears, heart lurching toward hope and horror in equal measure. You didn’t know if it was rescue or another nightmare come to join the hunt, but they were close.

You didn’t wait.

Whoever—or whatever—was coming, it didn’t matter. You weren’t about to sit still and gamble on who arrived first. With every ounce of strength left in your trembling limbs, you staggered upright and pushed off from the tree. Your legs howled in protest, knees threatening to buckle. You grit your teeth, blood dripping from your back, hot and heavy as it soaked into your waistband and down the backs of your thighs.

Move. Just move.

The creature’s head snapped back to you. You froze. Its eyes narrowed, then let out a guttural sound, low and almost disappointed, like a cat watching a wounded bird try to limp away. But then—it moved.

It was fast. Too fast. You turned and ran.

Branches snapped against your face. Thorns tore at your arms. The world swayed as exhaustion and hunger dragged on every part of your body. You didn’t care. You couldn’t afford to. The only thing that mattered was putting as much space between you and that thing as you could. Your breath wheezed ragged in your lungs. You tripped over a root and barely caught yourself, scraping your palms raw against the forest floor. You didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

But then—gunfire. Cracks split the night.

You screamed, then ducked instinctively. Bullets tore through the trees just behind you, close enough to hear them snap past your ears. The Rake shrieked behind you—an unholy, metallic screech of anger and pain. You risked a glance over your shoulder and saw it dodge one shot, the next tearing straight through its arm. It reeled but didn’t fall. Its body jerked unnaturally, then launched itself forward again. Its claws tore through the ground, earth and dirt flying up behind in its wake, leaving a mess wherever it went.

Another volley of bullets exploded from behind, muzzle flashes lighting up the clearing like lightning. You screamed again—not at the Rake this time, but at them. Masky. Hoody. The gunshots were too close. Way too close. Were they aiming at the creature or at you? The panic clogged your throat, and the next step you took was too slow, too sloppy. Your foot snagged on something, and you went down hard, shoulder-first.

Before you could get up—it was on you.

The Rake tackled you like a freight train, its claws pinning your wrists down in the dirt. Its legs straddled your hips. The weight was unbearable, its body pressed so close you could see the sinew beneath its skin and smell its rancid breath as it opened its mouth and screamed in your face. The stench of rot and dead earth surrounded you, clogging your thoughts.

The sound made your vision go white. You shrieked, thrashing, the creature’s face inches from yours, saliva dripping from its yellowed teeth. Its claws dug into your arms, slicing clean through skin. You felt warm blood ooze down to your elbows. You kicked, bucked, did anything to get it off—

But it was too strong. Its claws raised. It was going to end it.

“Hey, ugly.”

A blur slammed into the Rake’s side.

You heard the impact before you could register it—flesh against flesh, then a sickening crack. The weight was gone. You sucked in a ragged breath and rolled onto your side just in time to see Toby—his usual wild grin gone—drive his hatchet down into the creature’s back. The Rake screamed again, high and desperate, lashing out and slicing across Toby’s chest—but he didn’t even flinch. Not once.

He laughed. An unhinged, manic sound. It was scary.

Toby yanked the hatchet free and slammed it down again—over and over, until the creature’s writhing turned to twitching. Until the shrieks were replaced with wet gurgles. Until the forest was silent, except for the sticky squelch of metal meeting flesh. You lay there, too stunned to scream. Blood sprayed across your face—hot and thick���mixing with tears you didn’t even know you were crying. It was everywhere, on your clothes, your lips, your hands. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t look away.

The Rake's body convulsed one final time, and then it was still. Toby stood over it, chest heaving. His hatchet was slick and dripping, his eyes wide and unfocused, like he hadn’t really come back from wherever he’d gone to kill it.

He looked at you.

You flinched.

But he only blinked, wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, and grinned. The grin you’d seen before. That too-wide smile. That wrong smile. Your only saving grace from absolutely losing it was the mask covering the lower half of his face, covering the inhumanity behind it.

“Man,” he said, as if they’d just finished a football game, “that was fun.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The adrenaline was fading and leaving nothing but pain and fog in its place. Your arms trembled where the Rake had pinned them. Your lungs stuttered with shallow, broken breaths. You weren’t sure if you were safe now, or if you’d just survived one monster to be dragged back to another.

And Masky… Masky hadn’t said a word, but you felt him watching. You could feel his rage from here. You didn’t know what scared you more—the Rake’s claws, or the look in his eyes when they met yours.

Hoody wasn’t far behind, footsteps soft over the blood-dampened leaves. He crouched briefly beside the Rake’s remains, his head tilting like he was studying it—like he was already trying to commit the damage to memory. Then he looked at you.

Your body throbbed.

The ache flared all at once, like it had been waiting for your mind to calm just enough to notice. The gash in your back burned. Your arms shook under their own weight. Your legs were shredded and trembling. You could feel fresh blood seeping down your ribs, sticking your torn shirt to your skin. You reached up to your head and felt wetness there, too—had you hit it when you fell?

Everything started to swim. The forest tilted.

The air sounded too loud and too far away at the same time—Hoody saying something in a low voice to Masky, the crunch of Toby’s boots as he wandered off into the brush, humming under his breath like a psychopath. Even the wind through the trees had a static edge to it, like it was pushing in on you.

Too much. Too much. Too much.

Your breath hitched.

You tried to speak, but no words came. Just a shaky wheeze. Your knees buckled again, this time for good, and the world tilted in slow motion as you dropped to the forest floor. You barely registered someone lunging forward—boots and jeans and a mask—before hands grabbed your shoulders to steady you.

Masky.

He didn’t say anything, but you saw the way his fingers hovered near your back, hesitating. You looked up, barely able to lift your head, but it was enough. Just enough to catch it—that flicker of expression behind the eyeholes. Concern. He masked it quickly, tilting his head away like it hadn’t happened, like you didn’t see it.

But you did. And that scared you, too.

You tried to breathe, tried to hold on, but the trees blurred, and your vision tunneled. The last thing you saw was Masky’s white mask swimming above you in a haze of black and red and forest green.

You heard the muffled call of your name, then everything went dark.

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

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── .✦ rainrot4me2025, all rights reserved. ꩜ .ᐟ

[impish-baby]

A few glimpses into 'both arms cradle you now' reader's childhood in no particular order

"Why do birds suddenly appear evertime you are near.." The wet tears running down your cheeks are gently brushed away, whatever nightmare plaguing your sleep seems so far away now that your dad is here. "Just like me, they long to be close to you.." Damien hoists you into his arms, still humming that familiar lullaby as he carries you to the kitchen.

"Why do stars fall from the sky every time you walk by.." You're set on top of the counter, Damien ruffling your hair softly before walking over to the fridge to fetch a carton of milk. "Just like me.. they long to be.. close to you.." The warm glow of the stove makes the quiet night more cozy, the shadows along the walls retreating as well as any lingering fear.

You can feel you eyes start to droop, a small yawn leaving your lips making the man chuckle fondly. "One sec, ok? Daddy has some angel milk for you so you don't have anymore bad dreams, then we'll get you tucked back into bed."

-

"Do you want to hold him, sweetie?" Not really, but a nudge to your shoulder has you taking a reluctant step forward anyway. You're not sure how to feel about him, he's your dad's but not your mom's.

Mary scoots over a little so you can climb up on the hospital bed next to her, a tired but kind smile on her face. "Here, it's ok, you just need to make sure you're supporting his head.." She helps guide your arms into the right position, placing the tiny buddle into them, a pair of equally tiny disgruntled blue eyes soon staring up at you.

When you were first told that your stepmom was pregnant, you tried really really hard to just be happy for them. You promise. The sinking dread never went away though, no matter how much you berated yourself for feeling that way.

Babies are a blessing, but the announcement only cemented the fact that the world as you knew it was ending. Your dad isn't just your dad anymore. Even then, he hasn't acted like one to you in a while. Maybe you were just denying the inevitable.

"Ohh, I think he likes you.." Mary's head rests on your shoulder suddenly, distracting you from your sullen thoughts. "See? You're a natural with little ones!"

"He's glaring at me.."

She laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek as she sits up. "No, he's just getting used to the world, darling. He loves you, he knows he has the best older sibling he could ask for."

-

"What's even the point?" You're both supposed to be sleeping even though it isn't a school night, Aunt Lisa is strict when it comes to things like that. What she doesn't know won't hurt her though.

"Because they look cool," Avery shrugs, carful of the fact you're currently snuggled under one of his arms. "And you get bragging points for catching them." You still don't get it, they're the same thing just a different color. "You've watched me play for like an hour, and now you're bored?"

"You were actually doing stuff before.." You huff, "You've been going around in a circle for fifteen minutes."

You scoff at his comment, now filled with spite to actually beat the game. You've barely moved an inch before the battle music plays, a black and purple pumpkaboo greeting you. "Oh, um..

"I

Well, excuse me," Avery sniffs playfully, "You play since I'm not entertaining enough." The console is handed over to you, the older boy simply holding you closer. "I bet you lose the first match you try."

"Huh?" Avery sighs, quickly pouting when he looks back at the screen. "Seriously? Damm, you're lucky." He pokes your cheek, "You catch it for me and I'll buy you some fries tomorrow."

-

"You're so annoying!"

With how hard you hit the ground, you know you're going to bruise. You weren't even talking, you just wanted to hang out with them.

"Seriously, who even wanted you to come over? I sure didn't!" No matter what you do, Lizzie doesn't like you. Doesn't matter if you're as friendly as can be or give her some space, you're always doing something wrong. "You're wasting good air, you know?"

"M' sorry, didn't mean to bother you." You won't cry, you're too old for that. "Liz-"

"You didn't mean to? Yeah, right!" Lizzie scoffs, kicking dirt into your face. Dust immediately stings your eyes. "You're a pest! No wonder everyone calls you bug, you're clingy like a tick, a parasite."

Your feeble attempt to rub the dirt away isn't really helping, you can barely hold your eyes open enough to look up at her. Miles isn't going to do anything to help either, silently supporting his sister.

"No wonder your dad left you! And your mom, she must be insufferable if you're her kid-"

You don't know when you managed to get up on your feet or when you grabbed a handful of Lizzie's hair. On the bright side, it makes her shut up.

"Hey!"

Your dad emerges from the house, miles trailing behind him. Of course.

"What has gotten into you?" You've let the older girl go at this point, she wasn't even crying until he came outside.

"Ow, dad.." Lizzie hides behind Damien, flashing you a smirk. "I wasn't even doing anything and they decided to be mean.."

Any inking of doubt you had evaporates in an instant. You don't have a dad anymore, you haven't in years.

"God.." He crosses his arms, the stern look would have made you wince if you weren't already shaking. "Don't even try to give me any excuses, Miles told me what happened. You can wait out here for your mom to pick you up since you can't behave yourself. I thought you knew better."

-

"Can you at least try to eat half, please?"

Your plate sits almost entirely untouched, having just been picked at over the course of dinner. Your mom's worried frown won't leave her face. "You're still a growing kid, I don't like how many meals you've tried to skip."

"I'm not hungry." You really aren't, there's always a nauseous feeling in your gut these days. "I'll eat a snack later, don't worry, mom."

"Baby.." She pinches the bridge of her nose and you feel a pang of guilt for how stressed she must be. "Please? For mommy? Or at least talk to me about what's going on.. i- it hurts seeing you so sad all the time."

What are you supposed to say to that?

Against your will, there's tears starting to drip down your cheeks. You don't think you've ever seen the women move so fast, her chair clattering to the floor in her rush to go to your side. "Oh, my baby.."

"I- I'm sorry.." For what you don't know, maybe the fact that she's stuck with you. "I- I'm so sorry, mom-"

"Oh, hush.." You're too big for her to carry, you both know, but she still scoops you into her arms. "There's nothing in the world you need to apologize to me for."

You sniffle, tucking your head under her chin. "I- I don't want to see dad anymore.. or.. or hear about him or-"

"Shhh.." She runs a hand through your hair in an attempt to soothe you, "you don't have to, alright? We'll figure it out. If that's what you want, you won't ever have to see him again."

(a/n: some ramblings while I start writing the second part to the series..reader will continue to go through it)

[corollaservant]

Lotus // Choso x f!reader (18+)

Synopsis: He was supposed to have his brother's undivided attention. Until he invited you over for summer break. Since he loves him that much, you're the one who's paying. (5.8k)

Warnings: 18+ dark, dubcon/noncon, humiliation, college, f.masturbation, use of "nii-chan" from Yuji, obsession/yandere brother, degradation, violence, dacryphilia, breath+impact play, dom!choso, reader gets a sunburn but it's mentioned 1x? and only as feeling pain

A/N: yk how everyone always makes Choso the nerdy, creepy, virgin perv? well i kinda want it reversed (he has killed people btw) [ao3]

Choso loves his family. That's why he doesn't like you.

Seriously, couldn't his brother not bring you over his place for summer break? He gets it, Yuji is young and can never say no, his best friend turned him down for a summer course and Choso guesses you were his second choice. Though Yuji would never tell him that. Or you for the matter. Choso can't wrap his head around why Yuji likes you so much. He knows his brother, no actually, he loves his brother so he knows it's not some crush otherwise Yuji would've shyly approached him and confessed. It seems like his brother just genuinely has a great time with you and that pisses him off. You're loud, that's fine, so is Yuji. But Yuji’s smart, caring, sensitive. You on the other hand... you break things on your way, stumble, laugh obnoxiously and make a mess in his clean kitchen. You're insufferable. So of course, Choso scoffs and rejects Yuji's offer at first.

"She's not coming over, Yu." He tells his little brother, "This was supposed to be our bonding time, remember? I planned out both weeks for us." Choso was excited—he really was. Getting to have his brother around was the best thing that could've happened to him. He'd take Yuji to the movies, carousel, beach, for beers; ok, no, he laughs, he'd definitely get them in a club, maybe a casino? Some strip show? Yuji was an adult now and Choso couldn't wait to listen to his college stories; though he knew there probably weren't many, judging by how nice his brother was. Really, a very likeable kid (adult, he corrects himself).

Yuji begs him. Tells him you'll help around the house, says you've never travelled before, you don't have any plans and you won't cause trouble. It's when Choso starts doubting himself. Ok sure, Choso isn't young per se, but he's definitely fun to be around, right? Does his brother seriously not think he's cool enough anymore? Would he be sad if he said no? He can't stand the thought of making his brother sad. Not because of him, that's certain. This is why he now has you in his house strutting around in flimsy shorts and a barely covering shirt, puffy eyes from your sleep and messy hair. On his kitchen counter asking if there's coffee. He scoffs.

"I made some. For Yuji. You can get some yourself.” He's been up hours ago, went for his run and excitedly waits for his brother to wake up. But now you’re there. Choso couldn't wake Yuji up, he practically spoiled him anyway he could, sleep was no exception. However, you and Yuji unfortunately do not share the same schedule so he is cursed (because blessed would be a euphemism at best) with your presence.

"Alright, damn." You groan, ever since you got there, he seems constantly pissed off with you, but you just woke up, you’re groggy and in his house so you can't do much but yawn. You walk past him, he's too absorbed in his phone, not bothering to look. 

"When do you think Yuji will be up?" He asks, as the smell of coffee suddenly makes you feel alive again.

"Oh I don't know, I'll wake him up soon, we'll go for a swim today." You giggle, you'd been so excited to go to the beach, swimsuits were the first thing you packed. Yuji told you about this beach he wanted you to go to, you’d promised to bring your polaroid and take pictures.

"No, you're not." Choso lifts his head up as he puts the phone down. "Me and Yuji have plans today. You can chill here, we'll be back before 9." It’s sharp and sounds non-negotiable as you stop in your tracks.

"What plans? I didn't know—"

"Why would you? This is our day, you guys can hang later or whatever." But Choso is already pissed. Like actually pissed. If you don’t know then…hadn't Yuji told you or were you just that dumb? He weighs in on the latter. Regardless, he can't argue with a girl his brother's age.

"But I–" You try to protest, as you stand next to the counter, your mug in your hands and you haven't even taken a sip when you’re cut off.

"I'll go wake him up now. Oh, and wear some proper clothing, will you? You've taken this family trip way too seriously." He spits and heads upstairs, leaving you dumbfounded. Coffee suddenly doesn't make you feel that alive. 

-

Yuji is sad. Sad because none of you want to compromise. Choso arranged for them to rent bikes and tour around town; the boardwalk along the seafront was ideal for the activity. His brother had always been athletic and loved the idea so Choso had contacted the shop owner to rent in advance. He knew he was creepy, who the hell rented a bike a week prior? It’s not like they wouldn’t find one. Still, the store closed at 4 PM and it was already past one (Yuji and his sleep) so they’d have to hurry. He’d prepared lunch and was excited for some brotherly time. As for you? Choso honestly didn’t care. You could go for a walk for all that mattered, it’d be four hours at most, you’d be fine. But then there was you, reminding Yuji of the impulsive promise he gave you twelve hours ago. The truth lies in the middle. Yuji mixed up the days—could you blame him? You and Choso bombarded him with plans and ideas meanwhile the poor boy only wanted to rest and enjoy his vacation. So he’d told you about today, when he’d promised Choso days ago. 

‘’Guys, I’m so sorry.’’ Yuji frowns as you both look at him. ‘’I promise, we can do both! One has to call it off so we can do theirs tomorrow.’’ His eyes gleam like usual, but he looks anxious. Probably because he knows both of you. 

‘’But you promised me first.’’ Choso speaks, he doesn’t sound condescending, he’d never raise his voice at his baby brother.

‘’Yeah, well he promised me yesterday!’’ You retort childishly. It’s like a race you two have, who will answer first, a competition, who can win Yuji over.

‘’Please don’t fight, we can do both, come on now, who wants to do their activity tomorrow?’’ Yuji sighs, looking across the kitchen table. He’s the youngest, but he sounds like a kindergarten teacher at the moment.

‘’Yuji, what do you want?’’ Choso emphasizes. Good, that should give him his answer, he thinks.

‘’Yeah, Yuji, why don’t you tell Choso our plan is waay more fun?’’ You consider sticking out your tongue but one look at Choso and you keep your mouth shut.

‘’You know I can’t choose! I love both.’’ He pouts. ‘’Don’t make me do this, can’t you guys figure it out on your own? I’m serious. I’m sorry…” Yuji’s eyes fall. Choso can tell and he suddenly feels responsible. Not for his plans, no. For seeing a sadness cross his brother's face. His heart aches seeing him so passionate to end this stupid debate, so caring, never wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings. He deep down wishes he came first. Choso’s older now and he realizes he can’t continue; a sigh leaves his lips as he speaks up. 

‘’It’s fine, Yu. Be back soon.’’ He backs off. Again. He has to put up a front for his brother. He doesn’t bother giving you a glance, as he exits the kitchen. He wonders if he’s ever despised someone that much before. To the point of choking them…no, not that. That’d be too nice for you. You deserve an agonizing death. He imagines your body stretched out on a medieval rack as your limbs crack one by one. You hadn’t been there more than a day and you were already fucking up his schedule. And in his own house, too. As if dressing like some whore wasn’t enough, seriously what ever happened to modesty? In his head his thoughts make sense, a stranger meddling in his newly amended relationship with his brother. Did you even know how much he cherished him? The lengths he’d go to protect and be there for him? This summer break was supposed to be more than a brotherly reunion. He wanted to be Yuji’s friend this time. He bets you don’t even know what it’s like to have no one around. 

He might go for another run, he considers. You’d be gone within a week. But even when his thoughts subside, he still thinks of ways to put you in your place for good.

-

By the time you’re home, polaroids in your bag and salt on your skin, Choso is pacing up and down the living room. It’s 8:30 PM and Yuji hasn't texted him since noon. 

‘’Where the hell were you, Yuji?’’ Choso completely ignores you as he looks at his brother, who is licking off a half melted ice cream and flaunts a newly acquired tan.

‘’Did you get a sunburn?’’ Choso’s anxious, damn it that kid, always failing to reapply SPF.

‘’I’m fine, nii chan.’’ Yuji laughs, as some ice cream falls on the floor. ‘’I’ll go take a shower or do you wanna go first?’’ He asks you.

‘’She can go first.’’ Choso tells him and you’re taken aback.

‘’Really?’’ You sound surprised. There’s no way he’d ever be kind to you, you knew that seconds after you met him. 

‘’Yeah, want to have some time with Yuji, before we head out.’’ He sounds casual as he brings a wipe to clean Yuji’s ice cream. His back muscles flex under his compression shirt, he looks kind of messy, had he worked out again? Unruly hair falls on his eyes as you try to tear away your gaze.

‘’C-cool.. I’m going upstairs.’’ You announce and leave, stumbling on the first step. What did you think of right now? 

Choso’s bathroom is spacious and allows you to take your sweet time rinsing salt and sunscreen off your skin. Yuji may have not been sunburnt but you couldn’t say the same. Your skin aches as you lather your back and thighs, were you sunburnt everywhere? You make a mental note to apply some moisturizing cream you brought. You had a good time with Yuji, he told you about his best friend’s summer course (financial crime, corruption and money laundering— dude sounded weird) and not being able to make it, how they’d meet and how his relationship with Choso had drastically changed in the span of a year. Yuji didn’t even know about Choso and took some time to warm up to him. As his brother, that is. But Choso was the best brother he could have, he told you. You had trouble believing that. Choso’s demeanor was far from.. best. You sigh remembering your brief coffee encounter. How he’d looked at you above his phone, his cold eyes with tired bags under as his long hair fell on his face, unruly and..sexy. What? Why do you think that? Your mind goes through images like a film projector—his long torso peeking under his compression shirt as he stretched and accidentally revealed a v-line and a happy trail. You feel a sting as water falls down the drain; the lotus and white tea fragrance from the body foam he has envelops your face. You close your eyes and think of him in more…compromising scenarios. Behind you for example. Strong arms snaking around your waist as he presses against you, droplets falling between you while his mouth latches on your neck. A muscular, veiny hand finding your chest and caressing gently…only to move to your lower belly and lazily circle around the entrance. You fight the urge to let a soft moan as you imagine him teasing. Yeah, he’d definitely tease your slit up and down, pecking on your neck until you begged. ‘’Choso..please! J-just one finger!’’ and he’d laugh, mouth contracting on your delicate neck and rubbing around your clit. You’re getting yourself off, what the hell are you doing right now? But could you really blame yourself? You never thought of Choso like that but you do now so you can’t question it further. You let a finger slip slowly inside you. It’s wet and fills you up well—not as good as you think Choso’s thick, calloused fingers would, but it does the job. You wonder how good he’d feel and you’re getting yourself off only by picturing his fingers. You’re suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door. 

‘’Aren’t you done yet? It’s been half an hour. Get out.’’ Choso growls behind the door, you remove your finger and quickly gulp down. 

‘’I’m almost done.’’ You faintly say, shit, the man you had fingers in your cunt for, interrupted your daydream…of him. You quickly rinse off excess shampoo and exit. God, you needed to get laid instantly. 

-

When you come downstairs, Yuji is nowhere to be found. Choso is sitting on the couch, the TV plays a show he doesn’t watch as he scrolls on his phone.

‘’Where’s Yuji?’’ You’re wearing Yuji’s old T-shirt from when he was a gamer and skater and nothing under it. In your defense, it’s long and covers almost up to your knees. He doesn’t turn around.

‘’He left. Sent him off to meet his friend, his parents dropped him off.’’

‘’What friend?’’ As far as you knew Yuji told you all his friends were busy with summer courses.

‘’His best friend, Megumi, don’t even know that?” He sneers. Megumi? The money laundering guy?

But he—

‘’He’s not staying long.’’ He has to be joking. 

‘’Why didn’t you tell me? I wanted to meet him, Yuji told me–’’

‘’Why should I? Yuji needs time with some real friends. Told him you felt sick or whatever.’’ 

‘’Are you serious? Why would you do that? Where are they?’’ You can’t believe this guy, first he treats you like a pile of shit, then he’s nice to you by offering you to go first…wait. Did he send you up first so he could convince Yuji to go out without you? Could he be so shitty?

‘’Oh my fucking God, that’s why you told me to shower first didn’t you? What did you even tell Yuji?’’ This guy is unbelievable and you fight the urge to rip his hair out from the back. 

‘’Does it matter? He’s already gone. Serves you right.’’ Choso sounds relaxed, like he just stated tomorrow’s itinerary. 

‘’And what am I supposed to do here, huh? God, you’re so fucking annoying, I swear I’m texting Yuji right now.’’ You realize your phone’s upstairs and before you can turn around, a strong palm grabs your wrist forcefully.

‘’One more step and you’ll be spitting blood.’’ His eyes burn as you feel the pain from his grip.

‘’Let— go...’’ You ask, more like beg as he throws your hand away, it burns, partly due to the sun but also from the pressure of his grasp. 

You slowly drag your feet to the kitchen as you think of ways to hurt him. You hate this guy, you simply exist and he decides upon making your life living hell. Sure, he doesn’t do anything dramatic but he’s constantly interfering with your friendship. Yuji wants you there, he acts like he’s some unprotected child and constantly monitors him. You grab a glass from the cupboard as you feel the words slip out your mouth involuntarily.

‘’Yuji doesn’t like you.’’ You lie and before you even have the chance to have a sip, the glass soars in the air and falls with a loud thump, shattering in a million pieces as you’re turned to look at him. 

‘’What the fuck did you just say?’’ He spits. He scares you, you think, the way he’s hovering; he seems really angered.

‘’I said–’’ You can’t continue. Because he slaps you. On your face. With his palm. And it hurts so badly, you feel tears prick at your eyes, your wrist hurts and you can’t move around— each time the burn catches up to you. 

‘’Why don’t you say that again?’’ He goes on, he has not moved and still waits for your answer.

‘’S-stop..!” You muffle, as you bring a hand to your face, you want this resolved immediately, you’re kind of defenseless, since your phone’s out of your reach and you are alone. He also is extremely strong and it doesn’t help that you anger him, his muscles tense and you notice the veins on his neck pulsating.

‘’Useless bitch.’’ He hisses, ‘’Yuji doesn’t like me? Look at you and your pathetic self. You think he likes you? Yuji likes everyone, wake the fuck up. At first I thought he fucked you, cause why else would anyone want to hang out with you?’’ Choso is fed up with you. Fed up with being nice, fed up with compromising. In all honesty, he’d probably be fed up with anyone but Yuji, but you’re just the cherry on top. Did you seriously think you could try to contact Yuji? The fact you even dared to speak on his name angers him even more. And that’s why he continues while you break down slowly. 

‘’You come here, in my place to hang out with my brother. Dressing up like some common cockwhore and you know what? I really wouldn’t give a fuck, but taking him away from me? Did you two have fun at the beach? You wanted him to fuck, yeah? Otherwise, what are you even good for?’’ He goes on to bring a hand on your cheeks, squishing and bringing your mouth to open like a fish. Tears that welled up in your eyes now fall sideways as he mocks. Your back slams against the counter, you think you feel your feet touch glass splinters as you tremble. You ache everywhere and he keeps going. 

‘’S–ow-’’ You manage, you can’t articulate coherently and feel nauseous. 

‘’Wanna speak up?’’ His mouth twitches but he still isn’t fully smiling. He has to hide it for now. Each moment that goes by, he feels an immense pleasure. It’s like he takes out all his anger that he kept inside the previous days and he doesn’t want to stop. Not when his palm moves your pathetic face left and right, like he’s viewing some artifact. In the insanity of it all, he feels his cock hard. He is unconsciously rubbing on your t-shirt (Yuji’s t-shirt) and your face looks oddly pretty, puffy cheeks adorned with tears and wide pleading eyes. 

‘’L-uh- oh’’ You try to speak out and he gets exactly what you’re trying to communicate. 

‘’Y-Yu- i’’ You call out his brother's name. Seriously, it's like you’re asking for it.

‘’What about my brother, huh?’’ A hand is removed as more air fills your lungs. You sob. You feel searing pain in your chest, among all other body parts— fingerprints sit on both of your cheeks. 

‘’Y-Yuji— is.. he..is not..’’ You can hardly keep up, he is in close proximity and your tailbone hits against the counter from the way he has his body pressed onto you. A hardness pokes at your belly and you think that this wasn’t what you had in mind in the shower. He is aggressive and looks like he won’t back off soon.

‘’Not what? Speak the fuck up.’’ 

‘’N-not like this.’’ You cry. You can’t understand how these two are even related. Yuji’s a sunshine, the kindest soul you’ve known, of course he wouldn’t want to fuck you, he just felt sorry that you didn’t have plans and offered up some company. He’d do it for anyone. You were naive at times but you knew it was the reason you were there. Yuji couldn’t say no. He must’ve also not been aware of his brother’s rage otherwise you wouldn’t find yourself in this position. 

‘’You’re right.’’ Choso takes you out of your thoughts. ‘’He isn’t. But I am. It’s your lucky day.’’ His left hand is on the counter behind you, so there goes your chance to leave. To your left, there’s an exit. You could run. But your eyes betray you and his palm abrasively pushes your left shoulder back. 

‘’Don’t even fucking consider this.’’ He says as his knee nudges yours to the side. You’re standing the whole time and the rough poke makes your legs buckle—you almost fall but you’re brought to stand upright as he lifts Yuji’s shirt.

‘’Shit, wearing his shirt and everything, as if you’d ever be good enough to be his girlfriend.’’ He mocks, but his eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your chest as you wriggle under him. 

Choso is determined this punishment exceeds medieval torture. And you should definitely look on the bright side, you’d enjoy it by the end.

‘’Finger yourself.’’ He orders and your eyes widen. 

‘’W-what..’’ You tremble. He raises his right hand and you flinch but he goes on to move a strand stuck on your lips.

‘’Stop playing deaf. Touch your cunt like you did in the shower. What? Think I didn’t listen? That’s the type of nasty whore you are.’’

You can’t do it. You can’t— so he does it for you. His right palm brings your hand in between your open legs as you feel your own palm push against your entrance. He touches on your middle finger and slowly brings it in between your lower lips. He slips in your finger, which has to contract by the pressure he’s applying but his rough hand touches you too and you cry.

‘’C-Choso.. s—stop..’’ He moves your finger up and down your pussy, which lubricates steadily the more something’s thrusted inside it and then decides to stick his finger too. You gasp as it fills you fully and he finally breaks out a smile, seeing you cute and vulnerable like this really makes his cock hard. Your pretty eyes beg for him to stop but he can’t; it’s too good and you’re almost enjoying it already. 

‘’That’s right. It feels good, doesn’t it? Bet you were thinking about Yuji in the shower, weren’t you? It’s okay, I can show you how I fuck too.” Choso wants to turn you around and stuff his cock inside you without protest but that wouldn’t count as torture so he has to suppress his strained urge. He’ll make good use of that nuisance of a mouth you have first.

Both hands are removed from your cunt, slick trickles down your forcibly open thighs— the position makes your hips automatically open and buck up and you’re panting, scared and embarrassed that your body betrays you. Choso’s face is flushed, a red scarring which you hadn’t seen up close, seems even more crimson, as he gets you off the counter and pushes your elbows down. You’re dropped on the floor, right in front of a long bulge—you can pretty much expect what’s to follow but still make a timid effort.

‘’Cho–Choso, please..’’ but before you know it, his sweatpants are removed and you’re cut off by his cock in your mouth. Salty precum lingers on your tongue—not long, before he starts thrusting his hips in your mouth, fucking your face. You choke and gargle; he’s big and his girth squeezes around your palate as he hits the back of your throat, “Fucking finally..” he groans, “..good for once.” He praises, as if you make some conscious effort. 

He suddenly pulls out—spittle falls down his cock as he grabs you by the roots of your hair. You must be a funny sight, plush, swollen lips, puffy eyes, a wet, anticipating cunt and precum staining his brother’s shirt as he brings his face closer. Something urges him to kiss you. He wants to taste your desperation. He brings his mouth on yours, it’s wet and he pushes his tongue inside, he can taste the fluids as you cry. 

‘’Kiss me.” He says and tries harder. This time you comply, his tongue searches your open mouth as you follow his lead. His right palm rests on the counter behind you, trapping you in an embrace, which oddly enough creates a heat in your core. His mouth, despite the forcefulness, feels soft and you aimlessly try to close your legs in hope the nasty feeling goes away. You smell his scent, it must be his shower gel, lotus…and something else you read on the label but can’t remember now. You let tears fall from your eyes as you try to inhale only through your nose— mouth too occupied being devoured by him. 

Choso loves kissing you. He thinks to himself you are perfect, in your own way. So pretty with your mouth distracted and your legs open. For him, only. Yuji would be off limits after that. Not that you’d approach either one after, he guesses. Your kisses only make him eager to stuff your cunt more, his cock aches by the minute, that’s why he lifts you up. You’re so pliable, he thinks. He manhandles you and all you’ve said is a couple broken ‘’please’’. Did you actually want this? He considers the possibility, he isn’t unattractive in the slightest.

Your shirt has to go. He knows it’s Yuji’s but that doesn’t matter now that it has his precum on it. He finds himself wondering whether he fights internally against Yuji or you right now, seeing how he feels a pang of jealousy towards his little brother. But the idea is crazy so he brushes it off hurriedly. Your soft, squishy tits rise and fall to the pace of your anxiety. 

‘’You have pretty tits, does this hurt?’’ He asks as he slaps across your nipple, the skin around burns tenfold and you cry out.

‘’...h-hurts..’’ You yelp and he feigns sorrow.

‘’Aww, sorry, let me make this feel better. We’ve neglected her for some time, haven't we?’’ He looks at your cunt— glistening and lovely, ready to be defiled as he brings a thumb to play with your clit. 

‘’Spit.’’ You’re not that wet, what? It’s okay, he will change it.

You shyly gather spit and let a small glob fall down his digits as he pumps two fingers abruptly inside. Three strokes and your cunt starts drooling, he enjoys the sounds. But more than anything, he enjoys your tormented face, fighting to admit the pleasure you’re getting. His rough thumb circles around your clit as you’re forced to touch behind his neck to not fall off, you grip down his nape, failing to conceal your moans. 

‘’Cho-choso..mhm’’ You whine, brokenly, it pains you to feel so good, so fast. You don’t want this. You don’t.

‘’...Already squeezing down like some slut huh..’’ It takes Choso a lot of strength to not cum in the air like some loser, he’s delayed this too much and now you look irresistible, being fucked by his fingers on his counter. While you cry. And his brother’s out. 

‘’-Mm- Cho- Choso.. stop!’’ You moan, feeling close to an orgasm as he pumps faster and circles the nub simultaneously. Your fluids stain all the way up to his knuckles and if he keeps this up, you’ll probably coat his palm entirely.

‘’---f-fuck Cho–’’ He removes the fingers just before you can give in to the feeling— you pant frustrated. 

‘’Enough. Let’s test out how well that cunt feels… for a slut like yourself.’’ You want to protest, want to tell him to fuck off and leave you alone, but that’s clearly not an option. In a split second you’re turned over, thrown across the kitchen table, your limbs are stretched out and the direct contact makes you wince, as you clash with your chest. Choso admires the view. He spreads your legs out and you look ready to be fucked into oblivion.

He gives his stiff cock a couple thrusts, his red tip leaks his precum and he groans before his cockhead bumps with your entrance. You moan and he hasn’t even entered you yet as he brings a hand on the curve of your ass and smacks it. 

‘’Stop being so desperate, it’s embarrassing.’’ He sighs as he rubs his cockhead across your slit.

‘’P–please Cho–Choso..’’ You moan, understanding that you have it bad. ‘’W-want you in me...’’ You can’t even lie to yourself at this point, you’re pent up and need him. The rest of unresolved feelings is something you’ll deal with later. 

‘’Fucking needy slut, maybe Yuji was right bringing you over here. Gonna get fucked by his bro like some passed around whore? Want him to stuff you too?’’

‘’N-no! Choso! P–please- ugh.. need you..only you!” You beg as you move your hips, your dignity dissolved a long time ago. 

Choso mumbles something under his breath and pushes his cock to slide in your creamy walls as you moan—desperately. His cock is large and it hurts way more than his fingers, he hasn’t bottomed out yet but you already feel suffocated.

‘’Ch-Choso!’’

‘’What is it, slut? Be patient.’’ He huffs, but he isn’t patient himself as he prods at your cunt deeper, you’re way too tight to take him, squeezing down the entirety (or at least most of what can fit) in your little hole and he has to sigh. Your back muscles contract as your helpless hands tug at the table while he thrusts deeper and deeper, he brings his torso close to yours so he’s next to your hair, which he removes.

‘’Does that feel good? You take me so well for a common whore, baby.’’ He whispers on your neck, you shudder and cry out. 

‘’Mhmagh- Cho-Cho! Y-yes..feels s-so good! Don’t stop! Cho–’’

‘’Are you fucking stupid? Don't…don’t tell me what to do.’’ He straightens himself and grabs your hips. His cock lunges in your cunt, he’s poking at what feels like your cervix, when he slaps your reddened ass. It should appall you, it should make you wince but he notices your pussy tightening and clamping down. So you’re enjoying this? What a nasty fucking slut that you are. 

‘’C-Cho– i ughn I’m cumming fuck!’’ You sob and he fastens his pace. You’re overstimulated, overly teased and over the edge. Your hands scratch against the table as his palms hold your head firm and to the side, he pushes you downward and thrusts his cock in and out, each pump making you gradually lose eyesight until you do… fully. Your vision darkens completely and you blink rapidly as you let go screaming.

‘’C-choso aagh!’’ But he doesn’t listen, his head’s too clouded with the need to fill you up, the need to have his cum seep out your hole as he grabs Yuji’s shirt next to him, rolls it around and hangs it over your neck. You’re being lifted—your back is arched upward, the angle is excruciatingly painful; you’re too sensitive and his cock slides way too deep.

‘’Shit– don’t have much to say now, huh?’’ He asks but you’re choking and fighting for air, your ass bumps against his groin and he needs about three thrusts and a hard final slap on your flesh to finish. 

‘’Fuuuck–shit, r-right there, stay the fuck up!’’ He orders, but it’s not like you have many places to go as you feel a warmth filling you up; it’s funny, you’ve never had anyone come inside before. His load spurts and trickles out and he lets go of the scarf made on the spot, falling on top of you.

He slowly slides his softening cock out and doesn’t tell you another word while his chest rises and falls on your back. He can’t lie to himself, you were too nice. The softness in your shivering skin and sad eyes was too kind. Maybe he shouldn’t have been that hard on you, slapping you like some fly. He clears his throat as he climbs off you. You remain laid out, you seem passed out or freshly dead—you sport multiple marks and semen falls down his counter.

‘’We have to clean up before Yuji gets back.’’ You can barely register what he says but you make out the ‘we’ in the beginning. At least he acknowledges your existence, you think as you try to find your friend’s shirt. 

-

When Yuji returns Choso tells him you’re asleep. He can’t let him know he was cleaning bodily fluids off the kitchen counter. Yuji doesn’t ask more, he is excited to let Choso know about Megumi’s course and Choso listens, though he’s tired. By the time Yuji wakes up, you’re gone, having left a note behind that you ‘’didn’t feel well and changed the flight tickets.’’ When he tries calling you, you don’t pick up and he tells Choso.

‘’I’m sure she’s fine.’’ Choso made breakfast— it’s biking day, the sun shines and Yuji actually woke up earlier than expected (11 AM). His house feels silent, empty in a funny way, almost like you left and took its joy with you. Yuji is visibly upset but Choso reassures him everything’s fine.

‘’Yeah… I guess you’re right. You did say she felt sick yesterday..’’ He reminds him. Did he say that? Well, Choso thinks, it definitely sounds better than letting his little brother know of the sickening things he did— your punishment for daring to be his friend. Maybe he wasn’t lying to Yuji when he said that.

‘’I’ll try again later.’’ Yuji smiles. His voice doesn’t have its usual excitedness but Choso will work on it. He doesn’t have much time. 

‘’We’re still going, right?’’

‘’Sure.’’ Yuji smiles half-heartedly as he stands up.

He heads upstairs and Choso picks up the breakfast plates and puts them in the sink. He stands right at the spot he had you pinned twelve hours ago—defenseless and crying as he slapped you, facefucked you, fingered, choked and ultimately humiliated you. He knows the excuse that he made you cum and the way you looked at him barely holds up. Even if you liked him, it wasn’t right.

He is suddenly overcome by a wave of inexplicable emptiness. It’s a vicious cycle, he thinks. If it wasn’t you, it would’ve been someone else. He would have driven them away from Yuji in an effort to have him to himself. Then Yuji would be sad and he would feel responsible. It wasn’t ever really your fault. Yet, this wouldn’t have happened if you never showed up. It would have benefited all three. Maybe this was never a cycle; the loop would require equal components. You were a labyrinth, a complicated, long path and Yuji was the center. 

[b1lli3sgirl]

"I still love you"

Warnings: heartbreak, break ups, alcohol, driving under the influence/ reckless driving, angst, that's it I think.

A/N: first time writing angst so bare with me guys. Anyways I write this listening to drivers license but the live version from SNL so probably listen to that while reading it's linked to the title. Guys that all enjoy pls. 🙏🙏

Word count: One hundred or two hundred I'm not sure

NOT PROOFREAD YET!!!

"I just don't wanna end up hurting you, angel." Despite her soft tone, her words rang loudly in your ears with the weight of the meaning. It's all over.

"you're hurting me now," you replied, your voice breaking and crumbling with each word.

That was one of the last interactions you had with Billie before your life crumbled. The tour was coming up and her career was skyrocketing. Apparently, she didn't want to hurt you with how much she'd be away. How does that make sense? Heaving you to avoid hurting you.

The moment constantly replayed in your head like a broken record. The way her voice was daft like always. The way she still asked you "angel" despite breaking your heart. It's like the songs she wrote for you didn't matter anymore.

"Today, I drove through the suburbs cause how could I ever love someone else?"

What hurts more is accepting.

Accepting that she's left you.

Accepting you have to move on.

Accepting that you're no longer hers.

She isn't coming home to you anymore.

When you fall asleep at night her comforting warmth is gone.

Now all you're left with is the cold empty sport next to you as you sleep.

"I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one"

You love her and she is gone, leaving you to deal with your pain alone while she's with friends, moving on. Happy. How is she so happy? She ripped your heart out, stomped it into the curb, and left you to put it back. It feels like all your vital organs were ripped out, leaving you empty and alone. She was your vital organ.

You couldn't handle the pain alone. But you have to. She's gone. You won't be able to hear her laugh, see her smile, feel her warm arms wrap around you after a horrible day at work. It was bad. You knew it. But you had to.

You turned to alcohol. The only thing that could stop the moment from replaying in your head.

"Billie, how is this going to help us? You're just giving up?" You ask, your voice breaking more and more with each word as your tears sting your face as they fall.

"I don't want to hurt you, love" her voice is still soft. Why is it so soft? Is she not realizing the gravity of this? Maybe she does and she doesn't care. Suddenly it feels like you can't breathe, like the air entering your lung isn't enough to keep you alive, like your lungs won't hold enough air.

"and I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone"

The shot glass hits the counter with a loud clank. You've been drinking your sorrows away, knowing she won't ever return to you.

You lean back on the barstool placed in front of your island in your apartment. The apartment Billie helped set up. The room falls quiet. This silence a few months ago would've been fine. It would've been filled with Billie's presence.

You enter the apartment that Billie practically lives in now. Your eyes are heavy as you drop your bag onto the floor. You barely get your shoes off when you feel her arms wrapping around you. You smile softly as her fingers comb through your hair; she preppers your face in soft kisses before her lips land on yours. You kiss her back of course. She smiles against your lips as she whispers against your ear, her lips brushing it with every word.

"I'll go run a bath and start dinner, baby"

She asked no questions and didn't even let you respond. She was already walking towards the bathroom.

"i guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me"

You're done with the silence. The sounds of rain are usually comforting but now it just hurts. It hurts to know a few months ago, you'd be happily sitting on the couch with her, cuddling while listening to the rain.

You grab your keys, opening the fire before bolting to your car. It's pouring rain when you step out, soaking your hair in an instant. It doesn't matter though. You need a distraction.

You turn in your car and immediately pull out of the parking lot. At first your just driving down random empty roads while your playlist plays on shuffle. As this night I couldn't get any worse suddenly the song she wrote for you comes on.

You skipped the song almost immediately. She wrote the song. She promised to never hurt you. But she did. Her stomped in your heart and watched you cry. She told you it's for the better but is the better this pain? The pain is just for you though because you've seen her Instagram. She's clearly happy without you.

"you said forever now I drive alone past your street"

You speed up when you pass the road that holds the restaurant of you and Billie's first date. The way she looked at you, the way she held your hand the whole time, the way she kissed your cheek, but you could see the desire in her eyes to kiss more than just your cheek. But it's over now. The date passed. And so did the relationship

"all my friends are tired of hearing how much I miss you but I kinda feel sorry for them cause they'll never know you the way that I do"

You see her at every other event. It hurts. You talk to your friends and they tell you the same thing every fucking time.

"you deserve better, y/n"

"let go, y/n. Please she's an asshole"

She wasn't an asshole, she isn't one now, she never was. Yes, she hurt you. You know what though. Every event you attend you walk past her. You walk past the stranger you love. The stranger you know everything about, down to her favorite places to be touched and kissed. You know how she likes her coffee made, her favorite food, her favorite color, her hair routine. Her bank pin for crying out loud. You know her. She knows you. Yet you two are still strangers. But rather than still being strangers it's more, "strangers again".

"today I drove through the suburbs and pictured I was driving home to you"

It's time for the dreadful part of this drive. Her road. The road you know as if you live there. Yet you don't. Not anymore. Not on her road or in her heart. You not even an after thought to her anymore. Not even a thought at all.

You slam your foot on the gas, knowing you'll have to pass the road sooner or later. You can see the road despite the heavy rain. You gotta as suddenly you feel powerless. Your only power is the car. Your car.

You speed up again. Driving down the road almost 50 miles above the 30-mile limit. Billie would hate to see you like this. She is gone now though. So you'll speed. You'll drive drunk. And you'll serve and cut up cars because that's what you want. Billie isn't here anymore. You're no longer hers. She can't write about you anymore.

"And I know we were perfect, but I've never felt this way for no one, and I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone. I guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me. You said forever now I drive alone past your street."

You speed up as you approach her street. Music is blasting in your car making it impossible to hear anything. The only feeling is the engine buzzing and the car sliding slightly on the wet roads. You just need to 1 pass her street and get it over with or 2 lose control and see if the theory "drunk drivers never die" is true.

"red lights, stop signs. I still see your face in the white cars, front yards. Can't drive past the places we used to go"

You're driving at the max speed; the car starts sliding a bit from the slippery roads and speed.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see a black Dodge Challenger; for a second, you hope and wish it's Billie. You quickly brush that thought away, knowing she's left you; she doesn't want you anymore. She won't care if you crash and die tonight because you're old news. She has her people now. People are much better than you.

"I still love you, babe. Sidewalks we crossed. I still hear your voice in the traffic we're laughing, over all the noise"

The engine rises loudly as the music plays loudly. Everything is loud enough to wake the people sleeping peacefully in their houses. You press harder in the gas as if that'll make the car go any faster. The engine is loud, it sounds like Billie's voice, like her laugh, like her soft breathing when you used to fall asleep next to her.

You and Billie are sitting in her car. She's sitting in the driver's seat, knees to her chest, as you smile softly, watching her ramble about something that happened at the studio today. Honestly, you couldn't care less. Not in a rude way. I'm afraid that her words don't matter, but seeing her talk to me makes you giggle. She's heard your soft laugh and smiles

"Something wrong, baby?" She asks, her voice obviously teasing.

"you're just so pretty," you say, your voice full of admiration as you tilt your head while staring at her with a big goofy smile

"God, you're so down bad, Y/N," she says before laughing loudly. Her laugh is contagious; it makes you all smile in seconds. You laugh as well. The car fills with laughter. Any random pedestrian might pass and think you two are high as fuck

"god, I'm so blue. I KNOW WHERE THROUGH BUT I STILL I STILL LOVE YOU, BABE"

You see a silhouette of someone in your headlights. You quickly slam on your brakes, causing the car to slide to a stop. Even after slamming into he breaks the car and slides to the left a bit. You curse yourself under your breath for almost hitting someone. You stare at the wheel, not noticing the girl walking towards your car.

The girl you still love.

You feel a presence, not one of a stranger but rather one of a stranger that you know. Your eyes widen in shock as your heart shatters. You almost hit the girl you love. You stare at Billie, taking in her state similar to yours. Glassy Red, puffy eyes from crying, messy hair, and eye bags from the lack of sleep. She's clearly been outside of the house a decent amount of time. The rain she already soaked into her clothes.

You take a deep breath as you let the car run pale before hesitantly opening the car door and stepping out. Immediately the heavy rain soaks your hair and clothes. Billie takes in your state. You look worse than her. Red, glassy, puffy, heavy-eyed, halfway closed. Your hair is slightly messy and she can immediately smell the alcohol in your. She knows you're drunk.

"I heard your music," she says, her words breaking the silence. She knows that's the least she could do after hurting you this bad.

"Sorry for waking you and being loud," you say, unsure of what else to say. Your words are slow and slurred, making your intoxication obvious despite it being evident in your eyes.

She notices how you'd slur your words immediately. She looks at you for a moment, her heart clenching at your state. Her eyes then flick to the car and they widen with shock and sadness. Her mind replays the way she "woke" up.

Billie was just lying in her bed, unable to sleep. The hunt for leaving you the way she didn't have been eating at her for weeks. She doesn't know why she did it. She was just scared. She's gone on tour before, but this one seems. Different. She didn't want to keep you moving too much and she sure as hell didn't want to accidentally neglect you by being so busy. So she took the "easy way out"

It's hurt her ever since. She regretted it the moment she did it. Now she's unable to sleep. She's been crying for the past few weeks, only getting a few hours of sleep, which is nothing but a peaceful rest. Every time she falls asleep she wishes she would wake up. She dreams of you, you, you and her, together, happy.

She's lying there crying quietly when she hears loud music and an engine roaring. She sits up quickly. She sits on the edge of her bed and then pulls out her phone. She looks at the time. She thinks for a few moments before throwing herself out of bed, quickly putting her shoes in before running out the door. She gets soaked by the rain but she doesn't care. She's finally gonna see you again.

"I still oh I still love you babe"

"sweet girl... Are you drunk?" She asks, her words breaking the silence. Her soft voice and sweet names your heart clench in your chest.

A/N: Okay guys that's all I low-key left it on a cliffhanger so maybe I'll make part 2.

[justtwofriendsinmyhondacivic]

poly 141 x IT tech reader

Chapter 2 (Unedited)

18+ MDNI

cw: afab reader, mxm, masturbation, talk of shooting and weapon handling, inaccurate military descriptions, the reader has female anatomy, were all down bad.

…

You couldn't sleep.

The golden light cascaded through the open curtains, hitting your bare legs sending warmth through to your toes.

Whether it was the eagerness to make a good impression, or the anxiety of starting in a brand new team you know nothing about that kept you awake, it didn't matter.

You tried to do some digging into this team but their files are so hard to pull due to the level of clearance needed to access. And even if you had the needed clearance youd suspected that these files were heavily redacted regardless.

These men were gray to the government, they were killed a long time ago to best fit the needs of the ones they serve. So no wonder you couldn't pull anything, not even the status of deployment.

Laswell explained that this team is something that won't go on your file, but would be invaluable to you later in your career. So getting the head start on the system is exactly what you're looking for.

You spent hours just working on necessary updates to the system, one that had been pushed off for too long. Seems the last guy was just here for the paycheck as nothing was really done besides the bare minimum. Taking the time to sort out the plan for future needs on the software.

Sleep continued to evade you, even after you showered and got a head start on work.

So you decided to go for a walk to try and find the access to the hard drive and the physical elements to the server.

Knowing about where most bases keep their hardware, you started walking in that general area. The empty hallways were a welcome sight after all of the travel and meeting new people.

You followed the memorized map in your mind down a dimly lit hallway. It was sterile, the clean silver knob was cold in your hand as you twisted the door open. Taking in the small office you mentally cheered. Normally you didn't have an office, you'd have to bunker down on the floor with a mobile set up, this could be for days at a time. Especially when there is a mission, that floor near the hardware unit is your new home.

Taking in the small desk, the gray carpet, some simple cupboards holding manuals about the current system in operation. The glass closet doors on the right side showing thousands of blinking green and red lights, the tangle of wires that wound need to be re-organized.

On your left through the blinds was a small window, just big enough to let in the orange tint light of the lamp post filter through.

Walking around to run your fingers over the desk, it wasn't anything fancy, it was a small wooden desk with one drawer under it. The chair isn't a normal office chair, it looked like someone brought an armchair from home and never took it back. You weren't complaining as that means you can curl up better anyway.

You throw yourself down onto the weathered furniture, smiling to yourself.

You opened the drawer to rummage through and see if there were any left behind treasures when you heard a grunt from the slightly ajar door. Looking up to make eye contact with the mountain of a masked man.

Your mouth fell open in surprise as you didnt expect to see anyone out here, especially the elusive man that you were sure wouldn't have shown himself if he didn't want to be seen.

“O-Oh, my apologies, Sir. I didn't mean to wake you-” You scrambled as you pushed yourself up to be in a more proper position while facing someone in a higher position than you.

He shakes his head at you, his gaze lingered on your bare dewey legs, taking in the way that your skin looks under the orange tint light that cascaded through the blinds. Your damp hair fell past your mid back, framing your face.

“S’alright.” His eyes linger on you, you feel the dark pools of his eyes drape over you. Clinging to every bone in your body. It felt like more than just an observation, it was like he was trying to burn your image to his eyelids. And you're unsure if that's a good or bad thing.

You stood at attention waiting for orders, you knew you weren't supposed to be awake. Both him and Price gave an order and you didn't listen. And all you could look at was the veins that are protruding under his flesh, arms crossed and bulging under the sleeveless tank top he wore. The Ghost mask he was known for was traded out for a black neck gaiter, and the messy ashy blonde hair stood at odd directions on top of his head.

“Should be sleeping.” The deep grumble of his voice sounded out as he leaned against the door frame. Not breaking eye contact he continued, “Got a long day ahead of you, need ta’ see you at your best.”

You nodded your head along with him, “Course, Sir. I’ll go straight to bed.”

Ghost never took his eyes off yours, you just waited for him to dismiss you.

He internally grinned, you were finally now being a good girl after disobeying orders.

“You're dismissed, Soldier.”

You tried to bolt out of the door as soon as the words left his mouth. But his large frame took up most of the doorway. Making you stand in front of him, the smell of your shampoo danced into his nose.

Looking up at him, “Excuse me, Lieutenant.”

He pushed off of the wall and gave you enough space to wiggle through and scurry off to bed. A dark chuckle made its way out of Ghost's chest, a confusing amount of heat ran through his body, pooling blood into his lower region.

It was the way you stared into his eyes with confidence, but still so timid and eager to please all at the same time.

Sighing he shut the door to what is now your new office, he'll have to send Gaz in here to set up surveillance during tomorrow's training.

…

As soon as you scurried back into bed, it took you a while to calm your heart and mind down enough for you to get some sleep. Leading to the slim amount of sleep that left you desperate for more.

Your alarm went off dragging a frustrated sigh out of you and a long stretch before you got up to get ready. Truth is you were up a couple hours before you needed to be so you could get in a workout before training.

You needed to make sure you were in top condition during these training exercises, the last time that you were on an assignment the team wouldn't allow you in the field so you were excited to have the opportunity.

With that in mind you got a motivation streak and got ready in record time, the grey work out gear hugging you well, as you threw on a large shirt over for the walk to the gym. Opening the door you glided your way, remembering where it was from the small tour the Captain gave to you.

Stopping by the dingy water fountain to top off your army issued water bottle.

Once you breached the doors to the gym, you had to turn on the light as it seems you were the first person in today. The hum of the fluorescent lights buzzing in the background. There were small windows on the back wall above the machines and weight racks. On the left there was an area for stretching and lockers.

Turning to the right you see yourself in the large mirror that was covering the entire wall, chuckling at the heavy purple bags under your eyes.Three well loved benches sat in front of it.

Quickly finding your way to the open area, setting your things down before you sit down to stretch. Getting through most of your stretch routine before you hear the door open. A whistling Soap walked in, both of you locked eyes for a while.

You couldn't look away from him. His messy mohawk stood at odd angles after a night of sleep, but what really had you was the strong arms that made you want to drool. The natural tanned skin sprinkled with freckles, covered in a layer of burly thick hair that traveled all over his chest. His loose green tank top did nothing to hide anything.

Your fingers twitched with the need to run your hands through it.

His lip pulled up into a dog-like smile.

With burning cheeks you decided to get back to your stretching, hiding your face in your legs while touching your toes.

Soap let out a chuckle at the redness that dusted your cheeks, as you hid your face his eyes dilated at the dusting of red on the nape of your neck. He felt himself salivate.

He broke himself out of his staring and headed to grab his weights and start his own workout, not wanting to creep you out with his staring.

…

Soap has never been this worked up during a workout.

You were his exact fucking type.

Half way through your work out, he watched you strip off the loose shirt, leaving you in a tight black sports bra. Exposing your muscled shoulders and the soft flesh of your tits that spilled slightly out of your bra. He was absolutely hiding a boner the entire time.

The worst of it was when you bent over to adjust weight on the squat machine, the line of your panties digging into the meat of your hips and ass leading all the way down to the damp outline of your pussy.

It reminded him of how long it was since he tasted a woman. Especially one like you.

He would rather take torture in a syrian prison then have to be tortured like this again.

You went up on weight on this next set, your head tilted back with eyebrows furrowed as you struggled against the new weight. You grunted on the next rep, looking ready to give up.

You heard the sounds of two weights drop on the ground as Soaps form slowly walked towards you, “C’mon bonnie lass, ya can do it.” he clapped his hands.

Your legs shook as you tried to push the weights up, after a few moments you finally got it to its resting position. Slowly sliding out of the machine and onto the cold floor. Your eyes were closed as you tried to regulate your breathing.

“Think I tried too much weight” You chuckled dryly. He took the time to look at you, taking notes of any scars, freckles, or moles. He saw a pretty bad scar that peeked out from your back and over your shoulder.

“Nonsense, ya powered through.” he laughed as you opened your eyes, a small smirk on your face, “Ya should stop now, doll. Got training exercise in an hour.” He said, taking in how your eyes looked when you looked up at him from this position.

You nodded at him checking your watch as it read 0430, as his hand came into view to help you up.

He pulled you up as if you weighed nothing, almost pulling you into his chest.

“Appreciate your help, any advice for the training?” You probed. Grabbing your shirt from the floor and wiping the sweat that was running down your neck.

His eyes tracked the movement happily, “Ya done a lot of shootin?”

You nodded and sat down on the floor, “I was deployed in a Special Activity unit before I transferred to IT.” From the way your smile dropped a bit, a sad look in your eye, he knew it wasn't by choice.

He made a noise of acknowledgement, “Should be the same thing ya did with that unit.”

That gave you some confidence, nodding your head and grabbing your stuff you turned back to Soap before you left.

“Thank you, Soap. I’ll see you at the training exercise.” You turned to leave and he took another full look at you before he went to grab his stuff to hop in the shower or get in bed with one of the boys and relieve some tension before he had to see you handle guns, he didn't think he could survive that boner.

…

You met Captain Price in his office. You looked at the clean cut beard on his face under the soft lighting of his lamp. His handsome eyes looking over paperwork and then back to you, why did they all have to be so good looking.

Stood in front of the deep mahogany desk, dressed in your dark camo fatigues, with a tight compression shirt tucked into a standard belt.

He was treating this as a mission, so he was giving a full debrief. He is sending you alone to clear a small compound, no prize or target, just clear and hold. He asked you to follow him to the outdoor range, you had four personal gun cases sitting on the floor.

Bending down to pick them up at the same time as Price feeling his warm hand as you grabbed the same case. Looking up, the blush dusted across your face, making eye contact with him.

“Let me help you with these, kid.” He said, arms bulging as he picked the cases up and opened the door for you. Making your way into the hallway.

“I have gear for ya at the range, once there you can pick from our standard selection of hardware, we want to see ya use your personal and the standard.” He said as he showed his badge to the man at the gate of the range.

“What are you guys running in your kits?” you asked.

“You can choose what you want to have in your kit but the standard currently is the MK25.” You nodded.

As we breached the doors to the outdoor training area the cool humid air hitting you as your boots hit the wet pavement, the stormy sky greeted you as you breathed in the air.

There was a maze of walls with scaffolding above so superior officers could observe the training, next to it was a table with firearms and ammo, in front of that sat four unmoving fresh targets. Ghost and Soap were there in full gear waiting for you and John.

Soap stands slightly behind Ghost giving you a quiet thumbs up, which gives you a little bit of confidence.

Ghost stared through you as he barked questions at you, “What do you have for your personals?” Watching as price sets down two gun cases and you set down two.

“Currently I'm running beretta 92FS and ZEV OZ9 elite for handguns,” popping open the cases with your personal firearms, “Colt M4A1 URG-1 and SIG-sauer MCX-SPEAR LT for my carbines.” Pulling one of your carbines out, Soap practically buzzing just from watching you check your sights and settings on the gun.

Ghost too found himself watching the gun press into your tit as you checked it over, quickly looking away.

“Run your beretta and the ZEV, then I need ya to run the MK25.” you nodded at the tall man, surprised at how many words he's using.

They departed from you and walked up the stairs to watch you, Soap looked at you as he started his climb, giving you another thumbs up mouthing a quick good luck.

Grabbing the ear and eye protection, you grabbed your mags that you filled this morning and loaded your weapons. You walked over to the door and waited in position.

“Cleared hot.”

As soon as the word came out of John's mouth, the lights started to strobe and screaming played over the PA system.

You were startled but regained composure and breached the first door, keeping your back to the wall with your service weapon at the ready. Coming up to a corner that rounded to the right, there was a piece of plastic tarp covering half of the doorway.

Gaz climbed the stairs joining the others, running a hand down John’s back as he looked down.

“Where have you been, Kyle?” John asked, leaning into the warmth of Gaz’s hand.

“Had ‘im run an errand for me.” Ghost interrupted, looking at John,

Price chuckled, running a hand over his beard watching as you proceeded through the compound.

As soon as you cleared the corridor you breached, seeing two targets on both sides of the rooms. You shot a distraction shot forward and then hit both bogeys. As soon as that room was cleared you moved to the next hallway. There immediately was a target to the right of the door, sending a quick shot into the head.

This hallway was a dead end except for the rooms on either side of it. Inching forward and looking at the closed door to the left, deciding to keep that for last and bracing against the wall next to the open door. Taking a deep breath trying to drown out the screaming, you peeked the gap between the door and the doorway seeing a target.

Sending the first shot through that gap before running into the room, and taking out the other two. The rest of the room was clear so you moved back out to the hallway, slowly opening the door and you find the room is empty.

It was supposed to be a bathroom, with debris in the way you took a defensive stance in the corner of the room.

The boys watched as you cleared the last room. You obviously haven't been in combat in a while but for being thrown in a simulation you weren't bad, just needed some extra practice to get back into the groove of things.

The way your muscles flexed while you fired into a target was a welcome sight to them. Soap and Gaz kept eyeing each other. Soap ran straight to his partners to relieve some stress after watching you working out. Ghost and Price didn't think much of it as he's always a horny mutt, but Gaz knew.

Looking down, they saw you lift your head.

“I need evac.” You yelled out of breath.

The lights kicked over to the constant yellow lighting, and the screaming finally stopped.

Standing up and walking out of the door you see the team now including Gaz are walking toward you.

“Fuck ya bonnie.” Soap hollarded, happy with your run through. He had to readjust the half chub in his pants before walking down earning an eye roll and a smack to the ass from Ghost, “Hit me harder LT.” Soap winked before running down, giggling.

You gave him a quick fist bump and moved to face the captain.

“Ya did good, taking out the three in the last room was a bit reckless but if you're ever in the field you should have one of us with you at all times.” He gruffed out walking to show you your accuracy on some of the shots.

You nodded, starting to cool down and feel the sweat drip down your back.

The group moved out of the building as you welcomed the cool air on your skin.

“Go reload your weapons, you're going to run the course with Ghost.” He nodded at you with a smile, you're fighting the reflex to giggle as when he smiles his beard moves in a cute funny way.

He looks up and motions for Soap and Gaz to reset the course.

You walk over to the table where Ghost was loading up a pistol and carbine.

“Are we taking the carbines?” You said as you pop out the empty magazine.

“Yes.” He said, not even looking at you.

Nodding you reloaded all of your mags and placed your handgun in the holster on your right hip, and held your carbine. Walking over to the door, you moved the ear protection back over your ear and waited for Ghost to get into position.

His hand grabbed your shoulder and squeezed letting you know he was ready, trying to ignore the tingling under the calloused hand, as soon as he squeezed the music started and the lights began to strobe.

Walking through the now familiar corridor, there was immediately a target behind the door which you neutralized. As you did Ghost took a shot at a target that was tucked behind a pile of debris.

As soon as you made it to the last hallway the hallway was clear but the door to the left was closed so you cleared the bathroom first, taking out the target that was in the middle of that room. Moving out, you and Ghost took a position outside the door, Ghost's thumb brushed against where your neck and shoulder met. Feeling the nail dig slightly in sending a chill down your back and a dust of pink across your neck.

Ghosts keen eyes caught the movement, knowing what it was doing to you.

You felt the rough corners of his gear dig against your hip as you peeked through the door seeing the targets. You didn't know if it was the close proximity to Ghost or the adrenaline that was making your body hot.

All you knew was you needed to get this out of your system, you can't be feeling all hot and bothered while being thrown into a new team.

Taking a quick breath you breached the room, finding two targets on the right close to each other and two farther away on the right side.

You too made quick work of the targets in the room, kneeling down and calling for evac.

The lights switched over and the music stopped.Ghosts hand was still on your shoulder as you looked back at him. His gazed bored through your skull.

You looked back waiting for him to either give you criticism or what to do better next time, but instead he took his hand from your shoulder and walked out without muttering a word to you.

Sighing you pulled the ear covering off of your head and leaned your head back.

You met up with the group outside of the building.

“You did good, we're going to have you join the majority of our training sessions from now on-” Price gruffed out, placing a large hand on his hip. Your eyes watching the handsome older man.

“For now you're free to work on the servers or have some down time, Laswell wanted to make sure you had time to get settled in before joining our training sessions regularly.”

Nodding your head, “Sounds good, Sir.”

…

You found yourself in the comfy chair of your new office, finally changed into an army issued green hoodie and leggings. Your hair was gel free and flowing down naturally.

Currently you are setting up to download the last upgrade before you can redo the wiring in the hardware. After hitting the allow button you leaned back sighing, glancing out the window to see the rain was coming down harder than it had been all day.

Looking back to the screen on your laptop, you saw the loading bar was still on one percent.

You got to thinking about the day.

Your mind drifted away to how Soap's chest looked, how Ghost’s hand felt wrapped around your shoulder, the warmth of John's hand against yours, and how Kyle's eyes slid over your body.

You felt the molten heat that gathered between your legs stick to the leggings that now felt too tight on you.

You couldn't stop yourself as you traced the tips of your fingers down the front of the scratchy hoodie. Tracing over the pierced sensitive flesh of your nipples over the fabric, biting your lip to hide the moan that was beginning to fall out of your mouth.

Ripping the hoodie over your tits feeling the cool air, and rubbing your legs together. You pinched and rolled the piercings in your fingers, feeling the devastating pang of electricity that it sent to your cunt.

You knew you shouldn't be doing this…

But you couldn't stop either.

You trailed one of your hands down the smooth surface of your tummy, passed the waistband of your leggings. Suddenly thankful that you didn't put a pair of panties on before leaving your room.

The pads of your finger met the surprisingly soaked heat of your cunt, letting out a small broken whimper as your back arched off of the chair. Using the edge of the desk to help keep your legs open.

Running two fingers up from your dripping hole to the buzzing button of flesh that begged for attention, rubbing your fingers in a figure eight motion. Having to cover your mouth as your toes curled. It felt so good to finally have relief.

You rolled your eyes into the back of your head, feeling your body release its slick all over your fingers and inner thighs. Barely able to keep your sounds at bay.

You quickened your fingers as you felt your climax approaching rapidly, the knot tightening in your lower stomach.

Then it snapped.

Letting out the quietest moan you could manage, riding out as much of the high you could before it got to be too much and you snapped your knees together. Your chest was heaving from trying to catch your breath. The faint buzzing in your pussy pulsed after finally getting the high you so desperately needed.

You laid there for a bit, eyes closed, feeling the cool air from the vent above you. Nipples tighten once again to the cold air.

Unknown to you in the foggy cloud that was your mindset, post orgasm, a red light faintly blinked from inside the vent, a strategically placed camera faced directly at your chair.

On the other side of the camera was Ghost.

Large hands closed in tight fists, knuckles turning white, cock angry red being choked against the fabric of his jeans. Feeling his breath quicken as he watched you come down, tits high in the air, hand still pushed between closed legs.

He didn't know what he was getting into when he asked Gaz to install the camera, and he was at war with his brain and cock. He yanked out his phone sending a text to Gaz, knowing he was free.

Get in my office. Now.

Quickly saving the video to his computer, he heard footsteps quickly approaching his office as the door was wrenched open. In walks an out of breath Garrick, a look of concern taking over his handsome face.

“Ya alright Si?” The bronze skinned man walked over to place a hand over the masked jaw of Simon.

The blonde man said nothing as he looked into Gaz’s eyes, quickly yanking his mask down and grabbing the man by the back of his neck. He yanked him down to bring their lips together, immediately earning a groan from Gaz.

Finally understanding what was happening, Gaz took a confident seat on the widespread of Ghosts lap.

Gaz swallowed the desperate groan as he rocked his hips against the rock hard length of Simon's cock. Before pulling his lips back looking down at the desperate man beneath him.

“What's gotten into you?” he said, tracing a finger around his lips.

Large hands wrapped around the smaller man's hips, forcefully turning him around to see a video paused of you sitting at your desk in a typing position. He cocked his head confused as Ghost hit play on the video, watching you trail your shirt up exposing the pink and pierced nipples almost directly to the camera.

Gaz moaned as he watched you slide your hand into your pants, face twisted in pleasure.

“Holy fuck.”

[a-cow-stole-my-username]

Gone with the sin

Chapter 1 Losing your life

HIM - Gone with the sin

Fox x reader

GN reader, canon typical violence, this starts (and takes dialogue, only in this chapter credits to Gatobob) after the 2nd show but will be more about time in captivity, not too much Fox in this chapter but trust me we'll get there soon 👀

If he said crawl I would crawl, if he told me to chew on glass I had to look him in the eyes. Everything but obedience was rewarded with punishment, he needed me to be functional but didn't mind the scars, each one like a signature of a name he never told me but everyone else saw. In the lonely nights he was drunk he showed a few crumbs of remorse, those were the only times i saw him human, clinging to that fake peace just to be a fool the next morning I was of any use.

Another show, another set of stitches. Your eye, your back and your insides are all sore. Barely conscious and sleeping through what felt like days. There's no way to tell the time in your cell. You had many dreams but most were about pain and teeth, those sharp pointy edges in you neck, on your back and eating you alive all around. You really can't tell what actually happens in them, you most likely won't remember them awake. It doesn't matter.

You feel a weight in your head, a hand petting you.

"Did I wake you?"

You don't think of your desires and only feel the need to keep sleeping, your eyes are heavy and the other limbs don't want to move but something makes your eye open, on the back of your head you remember that detail, the other eye won't wake up. You can see him now.

"There you are" You still breath slowly "You've been sleeping so long, I was a little worried you'd slipped into a coma" you looked at him, panic rising but not enough to say anything yet, just a weak attempt at standing up, maybe running away.

"Shh. Relax" he said calmly "No show today" those words letting you rest on your "bed" again.

"I've gotten you all fixed up ♡" he said smiling "They couldn't save your eye, but it's been prepared for a prosthetic" the mention of it made you touch it and gasped as you felt nothing there.

"Don't fiddle with it. It needs to heal more" A prosthetic? Why would he help you?

"Why would you even bother fixing my eye if you're just going to kill me?" It had been a while since you had spoken so it came out slightly croaked. He took a moment before he answered.

The rest of the conversation didn't include much talking from your part, he seemed pleased from doing most of the talking and spending time with you. Little did you now the actual weight of the words you made. The drugs did their part and yet again fell into the arms of your little death.

Your last show proved to be best you're sure, he must be so proud. So why did he stop you? Knife still inside, you waited for your next instruction. The room went dark and you heard the sound of the knife be thrown to other side of the room. He took the wire and the shackles and pushed you to the floor.

"This one is mine now" and he also said he wanted you alive, for the longest time you repeated those words to the point the memories felt fake. They came back to you in pain, while making excuses, anniversaries and through emotional punishments.

His chat wanted to see more, he was the one in charge of the ending and you wish to ask Fox about it. That's not his real name, you have a new hole and burns to prove it, it's a persona. The kind that pleased his audience in very dark desires in which you are not the first victim, but hopefully the last star.

You remember the words he said before the third show and you realize it's almost funny how all that medical work was indeed torn apart anyway. Maybe the painkillers stopped you from feeling the true the state of your wounds. Burns, cuts, the infection in your eye, your foot, his teeth, your teeth in your arm... All in different stages of healing that currently condition your mobility.

Your new concerns are scars that you can't bear to think about now, not when he's looking at you in pieces from your head to your toes or maybe it's more about the silent declaration of his name when Fox marked your body.

You are more conscious now, the light gives you a headache, to avoid the bright light of the room, you look down and the bandage on your arm is the most interesting thing in sight "But only I can smell you" is what you mentally hear looking at it. The room was dark in shows and you wonder if his eyes stared like he does now, you remember there was a camera in your cell.

"How are you feeling?" The author of your pain gets close to you now and sits beside you, there's no point in lying. "It hurts" because there's no other way of explaining it to which Fox chuckles "Well, that was the idea. I have seen them myself, you're healing well" he said while placing his hand on your head trying not to hurt you.

The moment feels tender but you still feel anxious around him, the man must notice and he takes a moment to decide before he tells you "no more shows" he looks at your covered belly and you follow. It doesn't help much but he's the closest thing you have to comfort so you get your head closer to him. It reminds you of the touch of his mask mimicking a kiss to your forehead.

"Why did you stop me?"

_______________

Fox doesn't now the answer to that question without letting Ren talk to you. Life taught him he can't get pretty things unless he works and bleeds for them, from the beginning Ren was weak to the point Fox had to take his place in front of the world.

"Why would you help me?" "Who did that to you?" "Are you going to kill me or not?" "I thought you were the one in charge..."

For a person with more illegal chemicals than blood in their veins you managed to pull some of the most important memories that led him to that point and it made him wonder if Fox's strength was another facade in his search of approval. Fox was in charge until he wasn't, Ren was so close to letting you die.

He had wanted you to die, to some extent. The warmth of your blood, the smell of your meat burning and the sound of your cries were something he missed from his shows. Just from the auction his star started to surprise him enough to feel his heart racing in excitement, this single action however didn't change the usual course of events.

He still get shrivers from the memory of your mouth on the gun, how you chose to meet him instead of the choke chain and the pretty smiles you made when trying to please his cruel demands.

It's all in the details his audience didn't properly enjoy as much as he did, it's the shine of the tears getting in the way of you tasting your own blood while looking unintentionally at his eyes. He knows you saw him touching himself and yet you kept going. It's also how you felt around him after doing more than necessary to avoid the sharp ends around your neck. It's the beauty of your trust when he only wants to hurt you.

Ren knows saving you will bring problems, in his youth seeking to fill his heart Ren learned not to trust and entertain the idea of someone who would stay. Maybe, maybe it's the lust of taking your rightful place between the living into appearing dead like a doll of his collection. Life draining out of you like the electricity flowing out of a battery. He savours the idea of orchestrating such an event. The thought doesn't scare him anymore, Fox revels in his perversion.

Thinking of the present, he knows he wants to keep you healthy and that he wants to hurt you again. He should be honest then "I want you to stay"

________________

To stay implies being already somewhere, in your case is difficult to know your place in his play. It's impossible not to fear him when you're not safe yet. Not having a clear view of the future it's easier to let him fill the blanks during this exchange. But by not answering he almost seems nervous, as if you had something over him. Your fear him and decide to have mercy. In an attempt to sit properly and get away from him his eyes turn slightly cold.

"For how long?" and you see the window in the room, how the warmth it gives it's lost to you.

"As long as I want, we'll have enough time to know each other" he said, even without directly looking you heard a smile "Don't think too much about it, you need to rest now" Fox said, placing his hand over the heart shape in your chest. It feels different, because apparently they removed the stitches that held it together.

"Maybe it's time for me to go, don't stay up too late" the placing in his hand changed to yours, his claws are cold.

He stood up, gave you a last smile as wide as in between shows and after a moment of what could be mistakingly interpreted as hesitation he closed the curtains. This time, sleep didn't save you on time.

Moving again to get a better chance at sleep, each wound screamed it's origins, it's echo formed a choir with the increasing sound of your heartbeat. At least tomorrow you hope to see the sun on your skin again.

And you do, you see the sun but your hands are cold. You also see nurses and doctors that have little interest in conversation, it wouldn't make sense Fox would let you here without trusting them not to help you. Having an opportunity to see more people still boosts your morale.

The day the doctors gave you your prosthetic Fox was there to see the procedure, it matched your eye color. Later that day, you saw yourself in the mirror before taking your first bath alone.

Naked in that bathroom the first obvious thing you saw was your head, your eye with and without the prosthetic. The movements didn't properly match in speed, making you feel strange, you looked all around the bathroom to see them move. It could've been sad, but you had a little fun with it, you saw your smile. It took a while to get comfortable using it.

Then you saw your neck, the faint little dots of the chain acting as a necklace, there used to be a mark of the wire too. Giving the size of the mirror the last piece of reflection was of your heart between your chest, the lines were not shaky or too curved they gave prove of his experience. You place your hand there, feeling it like the possessive way in which he touched it both times. You had already been given enough time to see your arms once they took the bandages so further down you saw the mark of the stabbing in your belly, your sex, your legs and your feet.

Being nude now is harmless and innocent, you have seen yourself so many times since forever and this look is prove that you have lived. The cuts in your thighs are healed, the sole of your foot feels normal to walk on now too.

This is you, the things that made you self-conscious before are unimportant now.

You remember the days of taking baths as a kid. You were someone's loved baby once and somehow now you are lonely with no opportunity be with your family again. What would they even think of you now?

A few days went by, nothing memorable in them. Pain, sleep, boredom, simple conversations. That window was a reminder of what you would not be again.

After that, he finally took you home with the same boring methods of transportation because you wake up in a different room again. You finally stand up from the bed and see the surroundings.

First thing to notice is there are no windows, it's mostly bare of personality and smelling like bleach. In a way, like the recording room.

The walls are all white, there is a big wood wardrobe and a bed that would have been inviting if it wasn't for the countless days you have already lost to being unconscious. You also notice you're wearing different clothes, unlike those feminine "outfits" this is more simple and somewhat close to the clothes you were wearing the last time you were outside. There are two shackle like things on your wrists and ankles too, they have a ring on the back but are not connected to a chain, they're also a bit heavy. Remember: he had said no more shows.

Speaking of the devil, he enters the room smiling as always.

_________

I'm already working in the second chapter so no worries, there's a general layout of the entire story and all the plot points I want to add, if for ANY reason I decided not to continue I will 100% tell you what I had planned stay safe ❣️🫀🦊

[hunters-vigil]

The Archon's Baby Chapter 15 - The Storm

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Warnings: talks of war, alcohol (Citlali), death, injuries, pregnancy, arguments, sad baby saurians, end of act 3.

Fic under the cut, don't repost my stuff on other platforms, i have ao3. Reader is not the traveller. Reader's adoptive sisters are Chasca and Chuychu.

"Did we make it back before any of them?" Chuychu enquired as the three of you arrived at the doors to the Speaker's Chamber.

"Citlali's probably stopped them a few times to scold Ororon." You shrugged, taking a seat on the steps after Chasca finally let you go.

"I'll go inform the Archon on what we saw. Are you coming inside?" She turned to you, but you shook your head, gesturing for Chuychu to come sit by you.

"She'll probably come outside to see the Traveller on their arrival anyway. The moment I go inside, I have to start packing for us heading back to the tribe." You explained, leaning on Chuychu as she took a seat next to you on the steps.

"So that's your excuse, huh? You really don't want to go back? You called it 'the tribe', you didn't call it home…"

"I'm scared the abyss will attack and we'll be sitting ducks. You two took my weapon away, and won't let me fight to begin with… but what I think… doesn't matter anymore." You fell quiet, ignoring how Chuychu began to draw patterns on your arm with her fingers.

"We won't let anything happen to you, either of you…" Your older sister replied, coaxing you into a cuddle.

You bit your lip, burying your face in her shoulder as you held back your comment. Either, implied two… but there were three of you that your sisters would be looking out for.

"I can't lose you too, please don't burn out, my rainbow…" you whispered, voice muffled enough that Chuychu barely heard.

"I'm not going anywhere, neither is Chasca. Not if we can help it, okay?" Chuychu kissed your forehead, before her attention was redirected by the door to the Speaker's Chambers opening.

"Ah, Chasca said I would find you two out here. Are you both alright?" Mavuika carefully looked over you, then Chuychu, for any significant changes since the three of you left this morning.

"Did Chasca tell you what we saw on the way here?" Chuychu asked, pulling you up off the steps to head inside.

"She has. I sent a scout to intercept Citlali, but apparently she got drunk at the inn… the Traveller and Paimon are with her." Mavuika explained, guiding the two of you inside, where Chasca was waiting, staring at the flame in the centre of the room.

"Probably getting a lesson in Ororon's history then." You concluded with a yawn, fighting back your urge to cuddle into Mavuika.

Little did you know, she was fighting back her urge too. She was so used to your company, returning to her chambers and you not being there felt unusual to her. She wouldn't mention how she ended up holding your pillow in her arms, the smell of it reminding her of holding you. In the end, she had to fight back her urge to get Flamestrider from Xilonen's workshop and head over to the People of the Springs to check on you.

"Does it not concern you that the Traveller and Ororon were meeting with the Captain, before Citlali ran in to interrupt?" Chasca enquired, trying to read Mavuika's expression, but you knew your archon better than your sister did.

She trusted the Traveller, and she knew Ororon's history… yet her jaw was clenched. She wanted to know what was going on, she wanted to know she hadn't been betrayed…

Mavuika didn't sleep that night… and neither did you. Insomnia was eating at you, watching Mavuika pace up and down the bedroom, before she settled down next to you.

"You'll hear them out, right?" playing with her hair, you waited for her decision, "especially since, in the end, your goals align. Your mission. Save the people of Natlan."

"My best guess is that this is about the gnosis. If The Captain somehow knows of the back-up plan…" Mavuika fell silent, her gaze lingering on your bump as her hand moved to hover over it, waiting for your nod before she rested her hand on your belly. "The cost of that plan is too great."

"I know, my love, I know." You murmured, resting your hand over Mavuika's.

///

The morning couldn't come fast enough. Unfortunately, it was also the morning that Chasca and Chuychu decided to go back to the Flower-Feather clan with you. Much to Mavuika's anxieties, as the reveal of abyss attacks in the night caused her heart to flutter.

The outposts she had set up had resulted in quick responses, but still…

"Chasca and I have been searching for survivors in the wild and treating them, but we have to take our little sister back home. Our parents are getting antsy." Chuychu explained as the Traveller and Paimon emerged the next morning.

They had to go talk to Mavuika about The Captain… whether the two could see any knowing expressions on either your face or your sisters was unknown to you, your gaze lingering on Mavuika talking to someone from your tribe, and from the People of the Springs.

"Oh, and some of us need to avoid getting contaminated by dangerous looking substances. That will make my job a lot easier." Chuychu interjected, side-eyeing Chasca as she warned everyone to be careful.

"Chuychu, do we really have to do this now? In front of her too?" Chasca gestured to you, but you rolled her eyes.

"I can hear you. Chuychu's right… can we just get back to the tribe intact, and uncontaminated, please?" you were ready to beg, pulling out the teary eyes and pout for extra impact.

"Okay, okay, let's head out…" Chasca was about to try lead you three away, but Mavuika's gaze caused you to falter, until she was distracted by the Traveller and Paimon walking over to her.

///

The trip back to your tribe was full of chaos. Warriors were fighting abyss creatures, the tribes themselves were protected for now, but travelling merchants, adventurers, you and your sisters… did not have that protection.

"This is the most stupid idea- where are you two going?" Your eyes widened, realising Chasca and Chuychu were heading away from the tribe, and you.

"You two suck! You could have left me at the stadium, not dump me on papa while you go help people in the wilderness!" you shouted after them, feeling a hand on your shoulder leading you to turn your head, "no offense papa, but you have saurians to treat, to help Ifa."

"Your sisters ran away already?" your father tsked, "at least you're here now, my youngest has returned to the nest… come now, you can help me with treating the baby saurians, they'll find you comforting. We'll get you some volcano cake on the way."

"Papa…" you witheld cringing at his joy of your return, deciding to just follow him around the tribe and keep things flowing smoothly as the warriors did their jobs. As your sisters did their jobs.

"How are you doing? How are you…" your father hesitated, realising anyone could be listening in, as a baby qucusaur cooed at you.

"Fine… everyone is fine. Archon's fine too, but these abyss attacks worry her." You were careful with what you said, noticing how Allpa was walking over, plus, your father didn't know of the plan to save the nation.

Allpa had found Chasca in the wilds as an infant, and she had been with the patrol that had found you too.

"Cusco, have you- oh, it's you, it's been a long time since I've seen you around the tribe." Allpa smiled, watching you interact with the baby qucusaurs, who were flocking to you under the watch of their parents.

"Sorry, I've been busy. I'm here now though." Your awkwardness was evident as Allpa looked at your father questionably, but he just shook his head.

"She's just worried, her sisters are out helping people in the wilderness. Her mother is treating people, we're treating the saurians, you know the drill by now, Allpa!" Your father explained, watching as Allpa left to go talk to the chief, Mutota.

"Thank you." You whispered when she had left, turning to see Cusco already looking at you.

"This… it was unexpected, and I know you want to keep it quiet, but I have half the mind to chew out Mavuika when this is all over." He admitted, folding his arms as you let out a sigh, turning away from him.

"I know… you can if you want, but I need her alive. Chasca was ready to storm the Speaker's Chamber in a rage, but luckily Chuychu stopped her. I need them all alive." You felt your eyes begin to betray you by watering, but it was no use fighting it.

The baby qucusaur let out a cry as you began to sob, your father sitting down next to you to pull you into a hug.

///

Mavuika's orders to the tribe chiefs were to discourage people from leaving the settlements. Your father had a close eye on you, so you couldn't sneak off, even if you wanted to try. Chasca and Chuychu were still out there… Mavuika planned to fight on the frontlines, and you were digging around your parents house to try find where your sisters hid your weapon.

"Ah, there you are… now where to hide you so you don't get taken from me again…" you whispered, holding your weapon on your hands, "ah, hi mama!" you squeaked, spotting your mother walking into the room, immediately hiding your weapon before she saw it.

"There you are, now, let me get a proper look at you. It's been so long, you should be nearly thirteen weeks, but you're already showing-" your mother began to analyse you, much to your horror, trying to defend yourself that it was just bloating. Nobody but Mavuika and your doctor was supposed to know about the twins yet…

/// Meanwhile…

"Mavuika! Oh, Chasca and Chuychu are here too! Wait, are you okay, Chuychu? Where's your younger sister too? Is she okay?" Paimon squeaked as she, the Traveller and Xilonen returned from the Children of Echoes.

"I'm fine, no need to worry… and our younger sister is with our father, back at our tribe." Chuychu brushed off the worry, leaving Mavuika to step in to explain.

"They ran into the Fatui while out on a mission and decided to follow them." However, Chasca had to begin to explain, as the golden outlander and silver floating thing began to jump to conclusions that the Fatui hurt Chuychu.

Instead, they had witnessed the Fatui protecting a travelling group from Natlan, following them to whatever their mission was.

"Maybe we've been wrong about the Fatui this whole time…" Chuychu began, but Chasca shook her head.

"It's too early to say. Plus… you saw how mama and papa get when it comes to the Fatui and our little sister. There's something off there. Let's follow this group and see what's really going on."

Your sisters ended up sneaking into the Fatui compound from above, Chuychu utilising her stink bombs as a distraction, while Chasca wished she had left Chuychu with you at the tribe. Despite the relaxing break at the hot springs, Chuychu had been running herself ragged for days, now she was her sister's back-up and eyes in the sky.

Luckily the infilitration was a success, your sisters using the hand signals the three of you came up with to sneak in, eventually seeing what the Fatui had dug up.

"It seems like they're looking for a dragon relic, called the 'source mechanism'. The device is ancient, barely any information survives to this day, and even people from Natlan don't know how to use it. Our sister might have some ideas but… why would this be the Fatui's target?" Chasca wondered, folding her arms and she and Chuychu looked down at the dug up relic.

Unfortunately, your sisters were unable to follow any further, as they were spotted. Chuychu shoving a falling rock to try distract the Fatui before she and your sister made a run for it, exhausting themselves further in the process.

Chasca continued to explain what happened.

"So, Chuychu got injured trying to get them off your tail?" Xilonen figured out, as Chuychu chuckled nervously.

"She pushed herself too hard, and collapsed on the way back to the Stadium. She's lucky our younger sister isn't here, or she'd get an earful." Chasca folded her arms with a huff.

"Well, she's not. And I didn't cause you any trouble while we were fighting, right? So my perfect record remains!" Chuychu defended herself, but Mavuika shook her head.

"You three sisters… you've done very well, I could make a comment about knowing your limits, but it's not my place. I can already hear what my beloved would say if she were here though." Mavuika admitted, confusing Paimon and the Traveller.

"Your beloved?"

Mavuika only hummed, avoiding answering the question while Chuychu sighed tiredly.

"I know, I know. I'm already reflecting on my actions."

After that, the topic of Mavuika's beloved was left to the side, as Xilonen went over what they had discovered. The Fatui were after the 'source mechanism'.

"Xilonen, I need you to gather every scholar familiar with the secret source." Mavuika instructed, pausing at the look on ancient name forager's face.

"You know who that includes, right?" Xilonen looked from Mavuika to your sisters, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm aware. She is one of our best bets when it comes to preserved knowledge of our nation." Mavuika then turned to your sisters, "thank you both for your hard work… Chuychu, it's time for you to get some rest. Oh, and there are gifts from your patients waiting in the Speaker's Chamber. I've prepared a small gift of my own as a token of gratitude. I'll send it to your home along with the others."

"Token of gratitude for this, or saving Chasca from trying to attack you for-" Chuychu caught her tongue because she finished her sentence, 'dating and impregnating our little sister'.

"Okay, Paimon thinks we're missing something." Paimon looked to the Traveller, who only shrugged.

"You don't need to give us anything, Mavuika. We were just doing our duty for Natlan. I should take Chuychu home now…" Chasca stated, but Mavuika only chuckled.

"Well, if Chuychu doesn't want her favourite saurus crackers, then…"

"Ah, I accept! Thank you, Mavuika. Wait, did our little sister tell you how much I like them?" Chuychu asked, as Chasca sighed.

"These sisters of mine…"

///

"What's next for you two?" Paimon enquired as she and the Traveller bid farewell to Chasca and Chuychu, who were leaving the stadium.

"I'm taking Chuychu back home. With our parents there to keep an eye on her, I can make sure she actually rests. Plus our little sister will want all the cuddles from her. She's been quite clingy since finding out-" Chasca caught herself this time, surprised that she wasn't keeping a closer eye on her words, especially as Chuychu glared at her, claiming that made her sound like a prisoner.

"Okay, Paimon's really confused. What's going on with your little sister and Mavuika?"

"Uh…" your sisters hesitated, but the Traveller threw them both off.

"She's pregnant, and the baby is Mavuika's."

"She's what?" Paimon squealed, but she was immediately shushed by the other three.

"This is serious business. Our sister doesn't want everyone knowing, since it puts a huge target on her back, and the baby's… you can't tell anyone. I mean it, Paimon. It's not like you hear of other archons having children." Chasca stated, gesturing for the two to keep quiet, but she was caught off-guard, "what's with that look on your face?"

The Traveller shook their head, agreeing to keep your pregnancy a secret. Plus, it would be no comfort to mention Wanderer, since he was a puppet created by Ei, not a child she physically birthed… yet he still called his creator, his mother… and no longer remembered him… yeah definitely don't bring that up.

The conversation shifted, your sisters claiming that they weren't alike, despite Paimon's comment that they were.

///

You frowned as you looked up from the iktomisaurus baby who had been cooing at you to hold her for a while, picking her up in your arms. "Why do I get the feeling my sisters are arguing right now?"

"Papa, where did this iktomisaur come from?" you called out, cradling the baby saurian in your arms as you took her with you to your father.

[kangshxrtie]

ch. 25 ⤍ morning after

"they're so cute!" you heard yunjin's loud ass voice echo through the room, the brightness of a camera flash pulling you out of sleep.

"they are," eunchae whispered, though not very quietly. "until one of them wakes up because y'all are being so loud."

"we should frame this," chaewon added, sounding way too excited.

you decided it was time to let them know you were awake. slowly, you opened your eyes. "you could at least be quiet when you sneak in to take pictures."

as soon as you spoke, chaewon literally jumped, her hand flying to her chest. "holy shit! i told you guys to be quiet!"

yunjin was laughing at how startled chaewon got, "we have to post this, tthe fans would eat this up" she held up her phone, the screen showing you and kazuha cuddled up together in bed.

"you're both literally cuddling like a drama scene," eunchae teased, trying to stifle her giggles. "how are we supposed to not take a picture of that?"

you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. "why are you all like this?"

"because," yunjin teased, "it's not every day we catch you and kazuha in a... compromising position."

kazuha, who was still half-asleep and had barely registered what was going on, blinked slowly and mumbled something incoherent, clearly not yet awake enough to understand what was going on. her arm was still loosely wrapped around you, and she made no move to pull away, even as the teasing continued.

"what even time is it?" you mumbled, pulling the blanket over your head in an attempt to escape their teasing.

"it's 9 a.m.," yunjin replied, sounding way too awake for your liking. "sakura's making breakfast, but we had to come and check on the couple first."

"couple?" you repeated, your voice muffled under the blanket.

yunjin snickered, "i mean, look at you two!"

with a sigh, you pulled the blanket back down, revealing your face again. you glanced over at kazuha, who was still slowly waking up, blinking sleepily as she finally registered the conversation. "huh? what... what's happening?" she mumbled, her voice soft and confused.

"they're taking pictures of us," you whispered to her.

kazuha's eyes widened slightly in surprise, her cheeks flushing a little as she realized the position you two were in. "oh... i didn't even—" she began, but yunjin cut her off.

"it's fine, zuha! you two are cute!" yunjin teased, grinning.

"stop bullying us, we just woke up," you said, sitting up a little, but you couldn't help the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

"seriously, though. we should go down for breakfast unless we need to leave for the two of you to get out of bed." chaewon said.

"we weren't even doing anything!" you protested, laughing now as you tried to defend yourself.

"uh-huh," eunchae nodded dramatically, playing along. "sure, sure, you weren't."

kazuha, who was finally awake enough to join the conversation properly, sat up and looked over at you, her lips twitching into a smile. "we really weren't, though."

you turned to look at her, feeling the warmth between you two from the night before still lingering. she was blushing but didn't seem uncomfortable—more like she was quietly enjoying the teasing.

"see, even she said it," you added.

yunjin just waved it off. "doesn't matter. the internet's gonna explode once i post this anyway."

your eyes widened. "you're not posting that!"

"yeah, no," kazuha agreed quickly, her voice still a bit sleepy but firm.

yunjin pretended to consider it for a moment, "hmm... but think about the fans."

"yunjin!" you and kazuha both exclaimed at the same time, making the others burst into laughter.

"fine, fine, i won't post it," yunjin relented, "but it's staying in my personal collection."

you rolled your eyes, grateful that it wouldn't be all over social media. "i hate it here."

yunjin just grinned, clearly proud of herself. "you love us."

you sighed, but you couldn't deny that she was right. "yeah, yeah."

the teasing eventually died down, and chaewon, eunchae, and yunjin finally left the room, probably to bother sakura in the kitchen instead. you glanced at kazuha, who was still sitting beside you, her cheeks still a little flushed from all the teasing.

"sorry about that," kazuha said with a sheepish smile.

you shook her head, her lips curling into a soft smile. "it's fine. i don't mind."

you felt a little awkward, unsure of what to say now that the others were gone. the room was quiet again, and the weight of everything from last night hung between you two. it wasn't uncomfortable—just... different.

"so... breakfast now?" kazuha asked, breaking the silence.

"yeah," you said, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck, "we should probably hurry before they think... something else is happening."

kazuha let out a small giggle. "right, can't have them coming back up here," she said, sliding off the bed and stretching her arms out.

you followed suit, standing up and trying to regain your composure. you were still processing the fact that you had spent the night cuddling with her after the dream which she didn't even know about and you don't think you could ever tell her.

when you entered the kitchen, it was as if the room collectively paused for a second, like they were waiting to see how you two would act. they were all seated at the table, eyeing the two of you.

"finally! my favorite couple!" yunjin announced dramatically.

you rolled your eyes. "shut up."

kazuha just smiled and headed straight for the kitchen counter. "at least i'm getting some."

the room erupted into a mix of laughter and groans at kazuha's bold remark. you felt your face heat up immediately, and you shot her a look, half embarrassed, half impressed at how easily she threw that out there.

yunjin, of course, was the first one to speak up afterward, "i see what's happening here."

"mind your business," you told her playfully going over to where kazuha was grabbing herself a plate from the counter and filling it with whatever was left of breakfast. you grabbed a plate as well, keeping your head down to avoid any more teasing glances. but you knew they were all curious and just waiting for you to sit down so they could start the questioning.

"so," chaewon started, her voice casual but clearly fishing for something, "what all happened last night?"

kazuha's expression stayed relaxed as she dug into her food. "we just talked and then slept.."

chaewon raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that answer. "uh-huh... and nothing unusual? just a... normal sleep?"

you sat down across from kazuha, shooting chaewon a look. "can we just not talk about it?"

"absolutely not?" yunjin chimed in with a grin. "we're just curious, you know? i mean, you two were so cute this morning."

you glared at her.

sakura, who had been relatively quiet, finally spoke up, giving you both a teasing smile. "we just wanna know if we need to have a talk with the two of you."

"next time we have to lock the door," you told kazuha.

"next time?" chaewon repeated teasingly.

kazuha's eyes flicked over to you, and she was trying not to laugh.

"that's not what i meant!" you tried to say.

kazuha shook her head, finally giving in to her own laughter. "okay, enough. can we just eat in peace?"

"fine~," yunjin said, waving her hand dismissively. "we'll drop it... for now."

the room quieted down a bit after that, and for a while, it was just the sound of forks clinking against plates and the occasional murmur of conversation. you tried to relax and focus on your food, but every now and then, you'd glance up and catch kazuha's eye. she'd smile softly, and you'd feel that familiar flutter in your chest, reminding you of everything that had happened the night before.

it wasn't long before you felt something under the table—a slight pressure on your leg. you glanced down subtly and realized kazuha's foot had brushed against yours. at first, you thought it was an accident, but then she did it again, this time more deliberately. you glanced up at her, and she gave you a playful look, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

you shifted slightly in your seat, but then kazuha's hand found yours under the table. it was a small, simple gesture, but it sent a wave of warmth through you. you weren't sure how long you stayed like that, holding hands under the table while pretending nothing was happening. the others were too busy with their own conversations to notice, and for once, you were grateful for the distraction.

eventually, the meal wrapped up, and the others started clearing their plates, still talking and laughing as they moved around the kitchen. as everyone started cleaning up, you and kazuha sat there for a moment longer, not saying anything but just enjoying the quiet moment between you.

but eventually, you had to move. kazuha slowly let go of your hand, and you both stood up to clear your plates, giving you a small smile as she passed by.

"should we lock ourselves in our rooms for a while?" yunjin's voice broke the moment, her grin wide as she leaned against the counter.

you rolled your eyes, "shut up yunjin," you muttered, placing your dishes in the sink.

kazuha just smiled and shrugged, "and if i said yes"

yunjin played along with a smile, "please not in the kitchen, we eat here."

before either of you could respond sakura cut in, waving a spatula in yunjin's direction. "leave them alone already, yunjin. they've had enough this morning."

"fine, fine," yunjin said, throwing her hands up in surrender. "i'll behave. for now."

you sighed in relief, grateful for the temporary break in the teasing, but you had a feeling this wasn't the last you'd hear of it. as you helped finish tidying up the kitchen, you couldn't help but steal a few more glances in kazuha's direction. there was something about the way she carried herself—calm, yet playful—that made your heart race in a way you hadn't expected. the morning's events felt like a blur, but one thing was becoming clearer: whatever was happening between the two of you, it was definitely something.

"so," kazuha's voice suddenly broke through your thoughts as she stood next to you at the sink, "what's the plan for today?"

you shrugged, trying to act casual even though you were still very aware of how close she was standing. "i don't know. maybe we can just chill, do something low-key."

she nodded, leaning against the counter as she looked at you with a soft smile. "sounds good. i'm down for whatever."

for a moment, the two of you just stood there, the conversation around the kitchen fading into the background. you wanted to say something, anything, but the words just wouldn't come. instead, you found yourself just... enjoying her presence.

finally, yunjin's voice rang out again, breaking the moment. "we're hanging out if you two want join, or let us know if we need to turn the tv all the way up."

you shot her a glare, but kazuha just laughed, shaking her head. "let's go before they start up again," she whispered to you.

you nodded, following her out of the kitchen. even as you rejoined the rest of the group, sitting down on the couch with everyone else, obviously next to kazuha who immediately wrapped her arm around you, which did come with some teasing comments from her members but you didn't pay much attention to them.

as the group settled into casual conversations and laughter, the teasing eventually died down, and you found yourself relaxing more leaning into kazuha's side.

"comfortable?" she asked, glancing down at you with a small smile.

"yeah," you replied, a soft smile on your lips. "really comfortable."

ALL CHAPTERS !!! | NEXT CH !!!

[luveline]

if you felt comfortable would you write the KBU au with steve and reader during/just after the birth of avery? 🥺

kisses before dinner —you and steve have a baby. mom!reader, 1.1k

Just like that, Steve's a dad. 

He wonders if he's supposed to feel different, and he does in little ways. Exhausted, worried, and unbearably happy —the kind of happiness to make your ribs hurt— Steve is feeling a hundred layers of emotion right now, but it isn't his emotion that takes centre stage, it's yours. 

You've been stiff with panic since your contractions started, and while that panic turned to happy tears the moment they laid her on your chest, you're looking at the baby like you're terrified of her, stiffness returned. Genuine fear. 

"Come on," he says softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "She's not half as ugly as we worried."

She's beautiful. Steve's legs hurt after all these hours of standing by your side, and he can't bear to look away from the baby's face, her face, and it doesn't matter. You're his priority. He juggles these two things as he assumes he'll be juggling them for the rest of his life, happily if clumsily. 

"Please smile, honey," he says. 

You relax almost imperceptibly with his murmuring. "I am smiling." 

"You're grimacing. Ten dollar word." He crouches and steps back enough for you to see his face clearly. "Are you happy? Like, truthfully?" he asks, knowing 'truthfully' isn't a word he says. Accusing the new mother of his child of lying feels a bit dick-ish, though.

"Of course I'm happy." 

"It's okay if you're not happy. I'm not happy if you're not happy, I'm–" 

"Steve." Your smile is sad in a way, but your eyes aren't half as scared as they were. "I am happy, I'm just worried. No more trial run… I'm a mom." 

"You're a mom." He doesn't mean to say it with the world's cheesiest smile. "I didn't know they made 'em like you, I would've started chasing moms years ago." 

You laugh. He's always loved your laugh because it's yours, and it couldn't come at a better time, not even when you were pushing. None of them sounded as happy as this one. "I'm a mom," you say, still laughing. 

"I know." He leans in to dash a kiss against your cheek. You perk up at the attention, so he does it twice more. 

“This is gonna be so fun,” you say. 

His heart rears to explode. Steve puts one hand on yours under the weight of the baby and the other behind your shoulder. “Just don't let me drop her,” you say.

“My hand’s already there.” 

“Okay. I love you. Are you sure?” 

“Don't freak out.” He thinks so many things in that moment but the loudest is, aw, my girl. “You're good, babe, I love you. This is gonna be fun, just like you said. We're gonna love it.” 

Steve sits on the side of the bed and holds you like that for a while. You relax at the support and watch the baby's little face in sleep. She has the most dainty face Steve has ever seen in person. She's so, so small. He kinda thought she'd be bigger considering the whole nine month gestation period and all your aches and pains, but she's perfect. He could fit her in two hands. 

“Avery,” you say. 

You picked it out together ages ago. Seeing her now cements it. “Avery,” he repeats happily, failing to resist the urge to touch her face again. 

You need time to recover and thankfully, the nurses and doctors haven't rushed the process. You're clean but in pain, and Steve gets to hold the baby by himself while you change. 

“Can I help?” he asks, watching you wince. You barely want to stand. 

“No, just hold her.” 

“She won't break if we put her down. She's safer in the bassinet anyways,” he says. 

Your eyes spark with panic as he goes to stand, so he sits, and he chews his cheek raw while you struggle into fresh clothes. 

A knock on the door startles you both. “Hello? Y/N? Steve?” Robin's scratchy voice echoes through the door. Her excitement is unmissable. 

“Yeah, Rob!” 

She opens the door carefully but enters the room less so. There's so much stuff hanging from the crooks of her elbows she can hardly carry it. “Hey! Oh my god, hey! Is that her? Of course it's her. Is she okay? She's okay, are you okay?” She turns her gaze on you. “Holy shit, do you need help?” 

You've only got a couple of buttons to do and the waistband of your pants to cinch, but Robin immediately drops all of her things to help you finish. 

Steve shares his first private smile with his very first daughter. “She's not always like this,” he murmurs. 

“How are you feeling?” Robin asks. She sounds treacherously concerned and overwhelmingly happy. 

“Maybe she is,” he adds. 

“I'm okay, Robin,” you say, reaching for her hand. “It hurts worse than people say. But it's over now.” 

“Thank Jesus!” Robin finishes her buttoning and ties a deft bow with your drawstrings. “Come on, mom, let's get you back to bed. Jesus, Steve, you couldn't have helped her?” She's mostly kidding. 

Steve lifts Avery. “She put me on baby duty.” 

Robin almost trips over her bags trying to get to him. “Steve,” she says, as though this one word should be enough for him, planting herself by his side. It's been a long time since he bothered trying to put boundaries between them, he doesn't even want them, he's proud as he can be as he lowers the baby to give his best friend ample view of her. While she looks, he lifts his gaze to you where you limp back to the bed. 

“Oh,” he says, “Rob, are you ready to hold her? Meet your niece. Arms out.” 

Robin stammers but holds her arms out. Steve transfers Avery in her swaddle carefully as careful can be. “Hold her head, okay? Lean back.” 

“Wait, you made this look easy. Steve–” 

Your eyes are wide as he stands and turns away from the bed. “Steve,” you say. 

“No more saying my name in this room, it's banned,” he says, putting his hands under your arms to make sure you're steady where you stand. You stop walking, pain in the line of your mouth. “Come on, honey. Let's get you back to bed.” 

Your eyes shine with tears, but you don't cry. You use his arms to push back up onto the bed and shuffle slowly into position before you put your arms out. He leans in for a hug. 

“Oh, Steve,” you say with a laugh, all soft and warm, having found the only exception to his new rule, “I wanted the baby back, honey.” 

“I know,” he sighs. 

[theluckywizard]

Happy Thedas Weekend! I think this is my first time prompting you, but I love Sleeping At Last, so could I suggest "My armor falls apart, as if I could let myself be seen, even deeply known. Like I was already brave enough to let go" for Rose/Cullen?

Hiiiii Lottie! Thank you so much for this prompt, it was just the thing to get me to rework this scene from my long fic in Cullen's POV (and give them the first kiss they deserve after they successfully close the Breach). For @thedasweekend Pairing: Rose Trevelyan x Cullen Rutherford Rating: T (cw: mentions of arousal) Word Count: 1697

It seems for the first time, Cullen’s fitful night of sleep isn’t the product of exigent matters scratching his mind raw or lyrium sweats or regrets masquerading as savage nightmares. This time his chest flutters with an energy so senseless and ungovernable that rest seems absurd. She survived. He’s been making a mountain barely-articulated promises to himself over these last few weeks, and most of them are shaped something like Rose. That he might dare to reach for her, to touch her without pretense. That he might find words to describe the helpless, tipsy effect she has on him. That he might banish the space between them and brush his lips against hers. So he waits. She’ll pass his tent on her way to the wedge of forest— he could join her. And walking side by side it would be easier to speak freely— without the arrow of her gaze trained upon him. Cullen lights a lamp and glances at his pocket watch. He’d made it to a little past four anyway, a sight better than most mornings. Waves of heat wash over him as half-cooked foolish thoughts careen through his mind. Cullen strips off his nightshirt and pulls on a pair of breeches, hoping the brutal cold might still the galloping of his thoughts and then pushes through the flaps of his tent into the sturdy moonlight. Like everything else in the valley he���s washed in silver, his skin raised to pinpoints in the bracing air. He stares at the sky over the sawtooth rim of the western ridge. An iridescent wisp in the sky lingers, refracting Satina’s light. An existential horror reduced to a beautiful scar. Hope and disbelief conspire to steal his breath. (more below the break) 👇

“Cullen?” He starts, clawing at his heart, then glances down at his half-dressed state. “Herald,” he flounders. “Is this some kind of Fereldan thing I’m unaware of?” she teases, surveying his bare torso with a quick once over. He lets slip a mortified chuckle beneath a violent blush. “I— excuse me. I didn’t think anyone else would be up at four,” he says. “Foolish of me, considering.” “I won't get in the way of your ritual” she says smiling. “I— was going to retrieve my bow.” “No wait—” he says, too quickly. “I mean— good morning.” “Dorian would like a word,” she laughs into her boots. “You’re not wrong,” he snuffs. Inexplicably, he finds himself sending her away as if she needs reminding that she can simply… leave. “Don’t let me keep you from your bow.” “Oh my bow can wait five whole minutes,” she says. The heat in his cheeks intensifies. “Let me just— fetch a shirt.” To her credit, her cheeks are dusky with blood even in the moonlight. At least he isn’t alone in flushing to the Void and back. “Actually— I have something for you.” Cullen swings back around like he’d been snared by her. She looks antsy, chewing on her lip before hiding it behind the edge of her cowl. She pulls her fur hat lower. “But maybe not out here?” “Of course. Come in?” Cullen holds a flap open for Rose and immediately begins apologizing for the mess. Last night’s work is scattered over his desk, his blankets aren’t folded. He kicks his empty chamberpot beneath his cot in a hurry and then snatches a shirt for himself. So bare before her his blood thumps wildly in his veins. Certainly she’s seen him more vulnerable than this, but desire crowds out reason. Imagining her skin feverishly pressed into his has become as much a nightly ritual as Adan’s tonic she’d once arranged for him, but he reviles his own presumption. Cullen tugs the shirt on. Rose plunks into her favorite chair, the one he’d once made more inviting with a sheepskin in some feeble hope that she might hang around more often. It seemed to work. But then she’s on her feet again, pacing a minor loop before perching on the edge of his desk. Cullen tries not to wince at the stack of missives beneath her. “I’d offer you tea, but—” “It’s fine. I didn’t come for pleasantries,” she says, clearly somewhat addled. “I just, wanted—” A tense exhale leaves her as she rises again. “You realize you’re the reason I’m alive, don’t you?” He does.

“I can’t take credit for that. It was them.” “You asked them to do it,” she counters. “And allowed them to work with Alexius. And then you let them test it on you. Magic.” Having it repeated back to him deepens his flush. He doesn’t trust the lamplight, shaking his head at his feet, flailing against the pointedness of her attention. In his periphery, she pulls her cowl off, setting his pulse staggering once more and then lifts away the familiar dawnstone amulet. “Here.” She steps close, picking up his hand and closing his fingers around the amulet. The contact between them burns phosphorescent inside him, so bright that all other thoughts beyond the warmth of her hand in his cold one are waylaid. He blinks at her, noting the firelight caught in the extra sheen in her eyes, the way she struggles for composure. He could just lean down— brush a kiss against her forehead, her nose, her lips. Instead Rose slides her arms around his middle, leaning her head against his shoulder, squeezing appreciation into him. He's too stunned to think of reciprocating— he’d only just come to grips with the idea of kissing her, and then she went and rent that plan to bits. Worse, her breasts pressing into him stirs a heaviness in his breeches so suddenly that he disentangles himself before she can notice. “Sorry— I shouldn’t have assumed that you wanted—” she stammers. “Maker no. Don’t be sorry,” he fumbles. He opens his hand, the crystal winking in the spare light of the tent, preparing to offer it back to her. “It should be yours.” Rose looks up at him, eyes clear and determined— not unlike the steel in her eyes in the temple ruins below the Breach. She closes both her hands around his, insisting on the amulet. “I want you to have it. In case they make you a footnote in my story. So you’ll always know you weren’t.” It’s as if she took a sledge to the last of his defenses. Cullen rushes forward, his lips nearly bouncing off off hers as she meets him. Even with the help of steadying hands, it’s as chaste and ungainly as he feared it would be. With a smack of lips he pulls back. “Sorry. Sorry.” Rose looks stunned, her eyes as round as moons, her glossy lips agape. “I should have asked,” he flounders. But she only shakes her head, clasps his face in her hands and reminds him how it’s done. He melts into her mouth, into her softness, fingers into hair, breath to breath, head swimming like he’s halfway through a bottle of sacramental wine. “You should probably— get to whatever it was— you were going to do—” He mutters between kisses. “Funny thing, you’re actually my entire agenda this morning,” she answers, drawing genuine laughter from his chest. His lungs ache as he suppresses it. “We’ll wake someone,” he argues, his smile insubordinate. Inches away the wry glint in her eye looks like sparks. “Then shut me up.” “I— all right.”

Cullen had never experienced a kiss that he didn’t want to end. This one is different: a kiss with no obvious obstacles, only a suspicion that they might just keep going if they can’t find a reason to stop. He hasn’t a clue how they do it, but they arrive at a divine resonance— lips parting gently, kissing the top, then the bottom, noses brushing then nudging into cheeks. Layers upon layers of clothing baffle his wandering hands, but he wears fewer and when her thumb skims over his hipbone through his breeches, arousal washes through his core with a sudden stirring. The kiss deepens. His hips search, bewitched and craving, his mind brimming— spilling over with her. But the contact between their bodies leaves him too wild, too open. Cullen opens a gap between them but keeps her kiss, capturing her hands so they might not provoke him further, denying himself before he loses himself. “Too much?” she asks gently, waggling a finger over stubble he’d been planning to shave in another hour. Her chin is an angry red, her lips swollen and her hair is a mess of loosened strands . He hadn’t thought he’d been so rough with her hair. “You can hear everything from growling stomachs to whispered prayers in these parts. Just a matter of privacy,” he says, pressing a silent kiss against her lips, though that’s not quite the whole of it. “True,” she whispers. “Come to mine later?” Beneath all the euphoria something restless scratches, different from a lyrium craving but no less potent. And like the lyrium craving, he shoves it aside. “Should I bring anything?” he asks. Rose smiles, slumping into his chest and taps his lips, the holy glow of the mark like fireflies on her fingertips. “These should suffice,” she says. Maker, the way this woman pries smiles out of him. He could never disappoint her. Rose kisses him once more, lips clinging like she’s saving up for a longer wait than a busy day of work, but he doesn’t mind. “Keep the amulet,” she says once more. “Whatever happens, you’ll always have this piece of what we did. This piece of me.” He runs a fevered hand up her cheek, thumb playing at her lips like the nap of velvet, unsure of what to do with the overwhelm within him, unsure of what to do with her. He could run. He could swallow her whole. He could lie down and die happy. “Thank you.” It’s a miracle he found the wherewithal to say those words, but they’re the right ones. She rises to her toes once more, pressing another firm kiss to his lips, fingertips leaving a scorching trail down his stomach as she pulls away, eyes shining with certainty, and whispers to him. “See you later.”

**** Part of my rework of the start of this long fic In the Shattering of Things. (Cullen x Trevelyan, Hawke x Trevelyan, multiship)