#actively gnawing my own arm off for that shit

[babooshkart]

Draco slows at the perfect moment, gliding up the gentle slope behind the cottage, and then Ron’s running toward them, whooping, and the bike is safely out from under their feet. Harry gets his arms around Draco’s waist and gives him a sloppy kiss on the cheek, Ron’s arm brushing against him where it’s slung around Draco’s shoulders, and he knows just from how they move that Ron’s kissing his temple.

commission from @dodgerkedavra for their fic Bike Dream for @dronarryfest 2024 💕✨ This was a joy to work on (look at their happy faces!!!) and the fic is a real treat 🥹💕 y’all gotta go read and lay in bed to giggle and kick your feet ok

[babyhatesreality]

Daddy stucky x little reader where they in the avenger tower and she meet rocket and groot for the first time and rocket scares her but she finds groot extremely adorable 💕🍯🦝

HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE.... So this sparked two ideas, because Rocket is my absolute favorite non-human Avenger/Guardian/Marvel character. So may I present...both options :D

Head Canon for Adorable Groot

The whole team was gathered, ready to welcome the newest Avengers. Thor had met the Guardians somewhere off the planet (but no one would tell you how, no matter how many times you begged), and after an "adventure" (again, no one would tell you what that adventure entailed), but you were all gathered together to welcome them while they visited Earth.

You were holding Steve's hand, craning your neck to get a good look at them, as Fury and Thor led them into the big common room. Your breath caught as you spotted them for the first time. They...were...so...COOL. There was this big blue guy with red tattoos and this really pretty green lady with the biggest sword EVER and a regular looking guy with these super old headphones and another pretty blue lady but she looked like you shouldn't talk to her and a pretty lady with antennas and...

"Alright, alright, let's get this over with," you heard a voice growl out, but you couldn't see where it was coming from. You tugged on Steve's hand to get him to pick you up so you could see better, and he did. But just then, the source of the voice jumped onto the nearest table quickly, scaring you as you weren't expecting it. It was....

A stuffy??

"I wanna make one thing perfectly clear," the raccoon-like creature said, making your jaw drop. It TALKED?! "Yes, I talk. No, I'm not their pet. Yes, I'm the leader."

"No, no, everyone, he's not the leader..." the dude with the headphones tried to interrupt, but the raccoon kept going right over him.

"And I swear on every star in the Galaxy that if anyone tries to pet me, I will gnaw their hands off. Capeesh?" He looked around at the stunned group, then nodded once in satisfaction. "Good. Glad we got that out of the way." He hopped off the table. "Got anything to eat in this shit hole?"

You refused to let go of Steve after that, causing Bucky to make all the introductions. After a couple minutes of you keeping your head buried in Steve's shoulder, you heard the strangest voice you'd ever heard before.

"I am Groot."

"I am Steve Rogers."

You looked up carefully. Surely if Papa was talking to someone, they couldn't be all that scary. Your eyes went wide as saucers when you realized that there was a tree person in front of you, and that tree person talked. You gulped hard as Groot tilted his head at you, studying you. Finally, he spoke again.

"I am Groot," he said to you, then gave a small smile. And for some reason, that little grin made you feel okay.

"I am Katie!" you said in a soft voice and smiled back. Groot held his arm out in front of you. You watched in awe as a tiny white flower grew out of his forearm. He plucked it carefully, and handed it off to you. Instant Best Friend Mode Activated.

By the time the Guardians were ready to leave for the night, both Drax and Quill were trying to threaten Groot to let you down from the makeshift swing set he'd made of his own body for you. You were giggling like crazy, more than willing to listen to the grown ups, but every time you tried to slide down, Groot would stubbornly swing you back up in the air, causing you to scream with laughter again. He kept saying "I am Groot," which you were pretty glad you couldn't understand exactly what he was saying to Drax and Quill because judging by their reactions, it was a lot of no-no words.

It was only when Steve and Bucky proclaimed that they needed to take you home that Groot finally set you down with a sweet pat to your head. You made him promise to come back and swing with you again tomorrow and he nodded excitedly, once again proclaiming that he was Groot. You were pretty sure that meant "yes".

Head Canon for Adorable Rocket

You were bored out of your mind. Papa and Daddy had been in a super boring meeting all day with some new people called the Guardians of the something. It had been a last minute but full team meeting, but they were discussing something that was "not suitable for little ears", whatever that meant. You, Peter, Wanda, and Pietro were stuck in the rec room, being watched by Kate. There were plenty of activities, but you weren't feeling any of them today, and your daddies hadn't had time to pack a day bag for you before you all rushed upstairs.

Wrinkling your nose, you skipped over to Kate. "Can I please go get a snack from the kitchen?" you asked her, putting on your best adorable face.

"Come on, squirt, you know you need to stay here," Kate said, ruffling your hair playfully. You giggled at her teasing, but tried again, making even bigger Bambi eyes at her.

"Pleeeeeeease? I will be so fast, I promise," you begged. Kate always was a sucker for your doe eyes, so she sighed heavily, then smirked at you.

"Go get some carrots, okay? Get enough of those little bags for everyone. Then come right back."

"Carrots? Yuck."

"Carrots or nothing, kiddo."

"Fine. Can I get juice boxes too?"

"Think you can carry all that?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I can!"

"Alright then. You got three minutes. Scoot. And get right back here, got it?"

You were off like a light. You knew better than to call Kate's bluff, especially after last time...you skidded into the kitchen, relieved that you had gotten a breather. You were gathering the mini bags of carrots and juice boxes when you heard a rattle in the big cupboard. You turned your head and suddenly found yourself face to face with a raccoon.

Too startled to do anything but freeze, you just stared, trying to figure out A. why there was a raccoon in the Avengers' kitchen and B. why a raccoon would need to wear pants. The animal looked down at the snacks in your hands, and then to your absolute astonishment, grinned at you.

"Nice," he said. Then he held up an oh so familiar package. "I'll trade you for one of these, kid. Huh? Whatdaya say?"

Who cared if the raccoon was talking? He was gonna give you cookies for carrots.

"Deal!" you said, tossing him a packet of baby carrots. He caught them easy as anything, then tossed you two oreos in succession. You quickly shoved one in your mouth before anyone could stop you, chewing and swallowing as fast as you could. "I'm Katie," you managed to say.

"Rocket. Nice to meet you, kid," the raccoon said. As you shoved the second Oreo in, Bucky came around the corner. He did a double take, seeing you standing there with Rocket. He made a beeline for you, picking you up quickly.

"What are you doing out here, Baby?" he asked, a hint of suspicion in his tone (He knew you well). You swallowed the last bit of cookie as fast as you could before answering.

"Getting snacks for everyone, Daddy," you said innocently, holding up the mini bags of carrots. Bucky's glare narrowed as he could see the tell tale hints of Oreos in your teeth.

"Did you take the Oreos out of the cupboard?" he asked sternly. You shook your head vehemently.

"Nope, I didn't take the Oreos out!" you chirped, because technically, you didn't. Bucky looked back down at Rocket, who was now munching away on a bag of carrots, and put two and two together quickly. He sighed heavily.

"Come on, back to the playroom," he muttered. "Rocket, Nebula has an idea about the propulsion system, said she needs you to do the...well I don't want to repeat it right now but she's asking for you."

"Roger that," Rocket said, wiping his paws off on his pants. He grinned at you. "See you around, kid."

Later that night, at the group dinner, you were thrilled when you new friend decided to sit next to you. About half way through the dinner, Rocket leaned over to you.

"So. Bucky's your Daddy, huh?"

"Yup."

"He ever take that arm off?"

"Sometimes!"

"You wanna trade me that arm for as many cookies as you want?"

".....how many are we talking?"

[jackals-ships]

JACKAL I must apologize I was like I WILL GO CHECK F/O LIST because I am not 100% sure which bot you ship with (<- did not care about robots until suddenly I cared A LOT) though I thiiink it's Megatron bUT sorry if I'm wrong fkdjashkj BUT BEARING IN MIND I HAVEN'T FINISHED S1...I WOULD LIKE TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR SHIP(S) 👀 and perhaps read fic at some point if you are able to find it @goldenworldsabound

(<- did not care about robots until suddenly I cared A LOT) IS AN ENTIRE MOOD THO HFKF tfp is like some sleeper cell activation code i SWEAR,,, + ur all good !! i gotta fiddle w my f/o list a lil and then repost it bc i kept meaning to make minor changes an then forgor,

BUT ANYWAYS YES !!! he's also, hilariously, one of the f/os i have a physical lil guy of despite being not on my radar as long as like garrus hf

also a read more bc i woke up Rambly today <3

he gets to sit with the ponies :} bc he canonically likes mlp at least according to the lil ask Megatron bit + there was a whole comics crossover (2 I think actually?)

breakdown + knockout are also My Besties they started out as like kinda baby crushes <- local aro can't tell the difference between Feelings even in fiction more at 11 [lighthearted] before megs came for my braincell with the fuckin. steel chair HFJ so seeing you go 👀🥰 at knocks i was like FUCK YEAH LETS GOO !!! im dropping into his work station from the ships vents like oooo someone's got a cruuuuush ooooo you wanna be all (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠）don't u knocks- (jackal is once again banned from the nemesis)

okay okay but; i rlly only have one fic Finished and luckily had the foresight to post it to AO3. it's a lil older so not totally in character + canon but still silly and cute hjfkd

NOW GETTING INTO MY RED STRING TERRITORY-

when i get into something with a lot of continuities i tend to kinda? squish em together? or take bits and pieces going >:3 my city now, so the jackal x megatron ship is Primarily TFP but ive also absconded with fun movie details (like megs being i think it was 30? 40 ft tall? Fuck Huge,,,,) and also bits of comics lore/designs (holomatter is an interesting concept and im chewing on Meg's as we speak. gnawing on his arm even-)

but regardless this ship is totally my Slice Of Life Comedy Hour Chill LoFi Beats type of ship HKF like im a sucker for darker stuff higher stakes but i think this one has 0 stakes

like. like jackal and megatron literally met because jackal enjoys long walks on the beach exploring places Away from the city and Generally Away From Ppl to just sorta vibe. and ofc the normal thing to do when coming across a Definitely Alien And If Not Alien Then Like Secret Government Ship is to walk away. NOT wander ur happy lil ass inside like :0 yooooo what do These buttons do

and then when you get kicked out instead of getting squished like the bug you shouldn't come back via the air vents. again. and again and again and AGAIN and AG- until the local alien warlord gives in and is like "yeah okay this is my life now ig???" (soundwave was totally helping them btw. he likes drama 😌 and also has his own human hi adri so he can't say shit-) (also I've never decided on the Actual number of times they break it, in my brain it keeps slowly going up jus bc I find the concept SO funny. pov you're an alien warlord worried you got alien rodents and oh no NVM it's the human again. FUCK-)

it's absolutely the slowest burn too bc Meg's Refuses to admit that he has a crush on the weird squishy thing that keeps breaking in (until he's decided they're dating. and doesn't bother mentioning this) while jackals just 🥰 hehehoho big robot friend who calls me scraplet and sweetspark and sometimes puppy 🥰🥰🥰 also threatened to kill any mech who was mean to me 🤔🤔 weird. aaanyways

THERE'S ALSO a running joke in my head of that "what do you have?" "A KNIFE" "NO-" but it's jackal running off with energon bc you can't SHOW ME a cool liquid and have me NOT want to drink it !! Just a sippy. jus a lil- we'll have the hospital on speed dial pleeeeaaaase-😭

anyways tldr jackal megatron is "I'm not trapped with him he's trapped with me yaaaay :D" and "robot google; weird fuzzy feeling in spark?? how to remove weird fuzzy feeling?? robot google human exterminator near me-"

[logmosswrites]

That Hum of Night

Fandom: Overwatch

Pairing: Hanzo Shimada x fem!reader x Jesse McCree

Words: 4k

Warning: NSFW! 18+ only. Definitely PWP, wet dreams, BDSM dynamics, Dom Hanzo and Jesse, Sub reader, dirty talk, humiliation/degredation (verbal and otherwise), praise kink, nipple play, dry humping, rope bondage, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, orgasm delay/denial, vibrator use, unsafe sex, creampie, oral sex/cunnilingus, come marking, aftercare. No y/n.

Author's note: cross posted to AO3.

There was nothing but heat. No up, no down, no world at all outside of the bodies pressed against yours. Your legs parted to make room for them, urging them closer still with every whimper and moan rolling off of your lips. You were hopelessly desperate, open and dripping for anything that would fill you. Fingers lazily fucked you open, joining a writhing tongue inside of your pussy. Hanzo and Jesse were everywhere all at once, sating your hunger as quickly as it appeared. Their mouths claimed every inch of skin they could find, the hot flash of teeth and tongue on your neck leaving you to gasp for air. You thrust your hips forward, shame long abandoned to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. Please, you begged, just at the precipice of orgasm. Suddenly, deft fingers latched onto your aching clit, hard and punishing; you rocked with them, winding tighter and tighter until-

You woke up.

Slowly, the world came back to you, trickling in like a leaking faucet. Your mouth was dry; your heart pounded in your ears. You felt overheated, damp with sweat where you were sandwiched between Jesse and Hanzo- oh shit, Jesse and Hanzo .

“Sweetheart?”

And there was Jesse.

He was leaning over you, lit up by the moonlight filtering in through the curtains. Bracing yourself, you looked into his eyes, surprised to find concern instead of the amusement you expected.

“Are you alright, darlin’? It looked like you were having a pretty intense nightmare, there.”

Wait- nightmare?

“You nearly pushed me off of the bed,” interjected Hanzo from behind you, voice betraying his worry. It was only then that you noticed the rumpled blankets, piled up where you had tried to kick them off. Shit.

In response, you simply rolled over and tucked your flaming face into Jesse’s chest, unwilling to correct their conclusion. Jesse allowed this for a moment, but soon took your chin in hand, forcing you to look at him. “Hey, now, you don’t have to hide from me–from us. There’s no shame in bein’ a little shook up by a bad dream, sweetheart. Hell, even I get scared by what my brain decides to cook up sometimes,” the man said, sealing his words with a kiss to your forehead. You felt a tiny bit of guilt gnaw at you as he settled back down onto his side, bleary eyes watching yours for any sign of distress. But it wasn’t really lying, right? How would they ever even find out?

“Come here,” said Hanzo, snaking his arm around your waist. You went freely, fighting a shiver as you felt his familiar body conform to yours. “You are safe, my love,” he whispered, “in this bed, you are safe.” With that, your boyfriend pressed his lips to your neck, ghosting over it as he had in your fantasy. Your body reacted accordingly, hips rolling forward and a gasp hitching in your chest. You slapped a hand over your mouth, but it was too late; the room was fraught with tension, none of you daring to even breathe. Well, fuck.

“Sweetheart-”

“I-”

Silence once again.

“Do you need us to sleep somewhere else, darlin’? It’s alright if-”

“No!” you exclaimed, eyes wide. Jesse searched your face for the truth, scrutinizing your awkward expression. You avoided meeting his eyes, shifting under the weight of Hanzo’s arm. Slowly, the cowboy seemed to put two and two together, lips pulling together into a dimpled smirk.

“Hanzo, I don’t think our baby girl had a nightmare."

Kill me, kill me, kill me, you chanted inside of your head, feeling Hanzo’s grip tighten as he caught up to the idea. For a split second, you considered actually lying, dismissing it just as quickly when you saw Jesse's smirk turn devilish.

"Is that true, beloved?” Hanzo asked, breath warm on your ear, “Are you trying to hide something from us?”

This time, you couldn’t suppress your shiver. Damn, Hanzo and Jesse knew just how to play you.

“You naughty little slut,” admonished Jesse, “Let’s see how wet you are under those panties of yours.” Lightning-quick, the man reached under the covers, hooking his fingers into the offending piece of fabric. Viciously, he tore them down, yanking your knees forward in order to get them all the way off. Your breath caught in your throat as he brought your panties into the hazy light of the bedroom, showing off the soaked inner lining.

“Well, would ya look at that? Our baby girl made a mess of herself, Hanzo. What should we do about this?”

Holy shit, you were going to die, right here in this bed.

“I think,” spoke Hanzo, voice gravelly, “that we should make her clean it up.”

And fuck, if that didn’t make you even wetter. Jesse considered you for a moment, eyes gaining a ferocious gleam as he noticed your quickly-growing arousal. Without preamble, he pushed your underwear into your mouth, wrapping them around two of his thick fingers. Instantly, you began to suck, tongue working around the cloth. Jesse pushed deeper and deeper in response, nearly activating your gag reflex. As it was, your eyes swam with tears, barely able to make out your boyfriend’s face turning deathly serious as he concentrated on you. Hanzo, unwilling to be left out, began to knead his hands into your flesh, pulling your sleep shirt up in order to play with your quickly hardening nipples. His scorching-hot mouth then sank onto your skin once more, lavishing your neck with kisses. You could hardly think, hardly breathe. Desperate sounds came from deep in your chest, muffled by Jesse’s unrelenting fingers.

Minutes, or maybe hours, flew by before your panties were taken from your mouth. You drew in a greedy breath, panting from sheer desire. God, how much more could you take? You were positively soaked at this point, aching with a need for friction. You knew better than to try and seek your own release, yet you still gasped when Hanzo snatched your hands away from your throbbing clit, reprimanding you with a harsh bite to the shoulder. A hoarse cry tore from your throat, reverberating loudly in the dark bedroom.

“You,” drawled Jesse, “have been a bad, bad girl, princess. First, you made a fucking mess of your panties, which you tried to hide from us. Then, you went and played with your tight little pussy even when you know you’re not allowed to. I think you’ve earned yourself a punishment, slut.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck , that could mean anything. Punishments from Hanzo and Jesse were rare, but you knew you were in deep, deep shit regardless. And if his predatory grin was any indication, Jesse knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Hanzo, put her on her back. I want her begging by the time I’ve finished tying her up.”

With that, your world was disoriented, your view changing to that of Hanzo’s face right above yours. You felt more than saw Jesse getting off of the bed, quickly distracted by your other lover smothering you with a savage kiss. You did your best to reciprocate, but you were no match for Hanzo’s overwhelming influence. You could feel his hard cock pressing into your thigh where he straddled you, covered only by his cotton briefs. Before you could even think about moving your hands towards it, though, they were captured once more and pressed up above your head; holy shit, Hanzo moved fast.

“What a little whore,” Hanzo spoke, finally allowing you to draw in a breath, “So desperate for cock, you poor thing. How did you ever survive before we came along?”

Jesus Christ.

Hanzo, satisfied by your stunned silence, turned back to the task at hand, finally tearing off your shirt and sucking hickeys onto your bare chest. His goatee was coarse against your feverish skin as you rose up to meet him, writhing beneath his iron grip. You threw your head back, only opening your eyes when you felt Jesse grabbing your now-unoccupied wrist. In his other hand you saw a length of red rope, a frequent addition to your bedroom activities.

“Color?” Jessie asked, momentarily abandoning his dominating façade. Hanzo paused as well, considering you like he might consider his bow; serious and straightforward. You sucked in a deep breath, stomach swooping in anticipation when you croaked out a confident “green”.

With that, you were pulled back into Hanzo’s blazing inferno, hands and teeth and tongue setting your skin aflame. As Jesse maneuvered your wrist into a complicated cuff pattern, Hanzo took hold of your nipples once more, rolling one between his fingers as the other was caught between his teeth. Christ above, it was like someone had injected fire straight into your veins.

“You likin’ that, baby girl?” Came Jesse’s voice, off to the other side now and distinctly smug. You sent him a glare, tempered by the heady sensation of satiny rope being pulled against your sensitive skin. Jesse merely winked back, his roguish attitude written all over his relaxed-yet-confident posture. With one final flourish of the cowboy’s fingers, your hands were firmly tied to the headboard, spreading out to either side of you in a comfortable stretch of your shoulders. Before you could get too settled, however, Hanzo was moving his rough, calloused hands towards your hips–with a jerk, you were pulled flush against him, his erection just barely grazing your sex. Two forearms planted themselves next to your head, decisively caging you in.

“Jesse, tie her up like this. I want to make sure we have plenty of room to fuck her without restraint.”

God. You couldn’t believe Hanzo’s mouth.

“You got it, boss,” Jesse replied easily, taking your ankle in his hand. Heat curled low in your gut as your legs were spread wide by the cowboy’s unyielding grip, exposing you to Hanzo’s hungry gaze. The heat multiplied as Hanzo adjusted his hips, your own twitching up to meet him halfway. Yes, yes, yes, you thought, nearly salivating in anticipation. Slowly, ever so slowly, the archer began to roll his pelvis against yours, finally giving you the friction you had been craving. It was heaven; it was perfect. Hanzo steadily began to increase his rhythm, grunts of pleasure growing louder and louder along with your punched-out gasps. The man loved to do this with you, spending hours grinding on you as you cuddled to watch a movie or even as you were falling asleep in his arms.

“That’s it, beloved. Can you feel my cock? Do you want it?” Frantically, you nodded, head swimming in a slurry of arousal and desperation. “Then beg for it, you whore.”

Fuck. You could barely think a coherent word, much less say them–but you tried anyway, panting a quiet oh and yes and please as sweetly as you could. The archer only gave a noncommittal sigh in response, clearly unimpressed by your performance.

“How disappointing, Jesse; it sounds as though our little whore doesn’t want to be fucked after all,” came Hanzo's patronizing voice, sinking low in your stomach–the man never made empty threats, especially in the bedroom. A teasing slip of Jesse’s hand set you to begging, words tumbling past your lips before you could even process them. “God, please, please, Hanzo, fuck, Jesse, please, fuck me!” you cried, pleading your case in a way that could make a porn star blush. After a moment of stunned silence, all three of you came back to your senses.

“Fuck,” Jesse snarled, chest heaving. “Fuck.”

In a flurry of motion, he was tying you off, finishing the cuff on your other ankle; then he was diving towards you, capturing your mouth with his in an animalistic mix of lips and teeth. Small, possessive noises issued from the cowboy’s throat, buzzing on your tongue like the bubbles of a sweet champagne. A scorching hand burned down the lines of your body, setting your newly-formed bruises alight with sensation. You shivered in anticipation–you wanted, needed Jesse and Hanzo inside of you now.

All thinking stopped, however, when deft fingers finally reached your oversensitive clit; you jackknifed upwards, breaking your kiss with Jesse. Your hips bucked under Hanzo’s weight as you gulped in air, starving for oxygen and touch in equal measure.

“That’s it, slut,” Jesse said, voice rigid. His eyes were positively wild, stormy with need from where he was hovering over you. A glance at Hanzo’s face revealed much of the same. You imagined that this is what it must feel like to be a ship in a storm, to be something so small in comparison to nature’s unparalleled power. You opened your mouth in silent prayer as Jesse’s fingers laved over your sopping cunt, dragging them over your lips like the pages of a book. Without warning, he slipped two thick fingers inside of you, stretching you open while working his thumb in small circles over your clit. Oh, God. Your dream couldn’t even begin to compare to the actual feeling of Jesse’s hand, moving in and out with enough force to rock your whole body. Lewd noises filled your ears, setting off yet another round of sparks fizzling through you. A familiar surge of pleasure began to crescendo in the pit of your stomach, drawing out more breathless whimpers from somewhere high in your throat. However, just before you could reach your orgasm, Jesse’s thumb slipped from your throbbing clit, leaving you to clench around his fingers to no avail. Fuck, fuck, no! Just a little more...

Your eyes opened to meet Jesse’s face, finding that his impish smirk had slipped back on.

“Awww, darlin’, ya look so sad,” the man teased, crooking his fingers just to make you whine. “Don’t worry though, we’re just getting started…”

Equal measures of excitement and dread shot through you at his words. Hanzo and Jesse, while loving boyfriends, knew exactly how to push every single one of your buttons; in short, they could be assholes. Beautiful, sexy, lovable assholes. Paying your trepidation no heed, Jesse withdrew his hand from your hole, leaving you empty and shivering. Jesus, you were a mess.

“Wanna taste?” Jesse asked–but he wasn’t talking to you. No, he was offering his hand to Hanzo, who regarded the cowboy with relentless heat in his gaze. A silent something passed between them, before Hanzo was leaning in and taking the slick digits in his mouth, staring into Jesse’s eyes the entire time.

“Good, right?” Jesse said, voice gravelly once more. Hanzo simply hummed in response, before withdrawing once again. Another tense moment slipped by, in which it got harder and harder to remember how to breathe. Jesse’s eyes flicked downwards, then back up to Hanzo, seeming to ask a question; nearly imperceptibly, the archer nodded, drawing in a short breath when Jesse’s hand moved down to grasp the hem of his underwear. You bit your lip as Hanzo’s cock was revealed, red and leaking at the tip. With just a touch of Jesse’s fingers, precum was dripping onto your stomach, increasing your own arousal tenfold. Leisurely, the cowboy began to jerk Hanzo off, grip loose and taunting.

“Look at our girl, Hanzo,” Jesse commanded, swiping his thumb over the other man’s cockhead. “Look at how fuckin’ desperate she is for you”.

Hanzo’s eyes snapped to yours, and you felt the full weight of his attention crash down on you– fuck, he looked feral, lips pressed in a snarl and dark hair falling just past his chin. You couldn’t help but look away, feeling suffocated by Hanzo’s gaze; however, a metallic hand grasped your cheeks, wrenching your head back to look at your powerful lovers above you.

“Eyes up here, slut,” Jesse reprimanded, “I want you to watch him as he ruins that pussy of yours, understood?” You nodded. “Good. And don’t you fuckin’ dare cum before I tell you to, or else I’ll edge you for a week straight, got it?” Another nod, and he finally relinquished his hold on you, leaving a dull pain that you hoped would flower into bruises.

As you were told, you kept your eyes trained on Hanzo’s face, watching his eyes flutter as his cock was guided to your entrance. Once, twice, he slipped out, before he was slowly pushing in, inch by inch. God, he filled you perfectly. Finally, as Hanzo sank completely into you, Jesse relinquished his hold, stepping away to admire how the archer curved around you like a great beast getting ready to devour a meal. Arms shaking, Hanzo fell onto his elbows for support, hot breath sweeping over your face. He was close enough now that you could see beads of sweat beginning to form on his brow. You were the only one who got to see Hanzo like this, aside from Jesse–it was a fact that never seemed to get old, no matter how many times you had joined him in bed. Equally as tantalizing was the slide of his cock inside of you, beginning to move in short, calculated thrusts. Instinctively, you clenched down, earning a warning glare from Hanzo–but you were already in trouble, weren’t you? What would be the harm in doing a little teasing of your own?

Staring Hanzo in the eye, you purposely flexed your muscles once more, feeling a hot rush of slick slowly drip out of you. In a momentary lapse of control, Hanzo buried his head into your shoulder, letting out a strangled moan. You couldn’t keep from responding with a shit-eating grin, putting Jesse’s own signature smirk to shame. However, your expression dropped as you caught Hanzo’s thunderous face, towering over you as he rose back onto his hands and knees.

Oh, shit.

“You. Worthless. Whore. ” the man hissed, jaw clenched, “It seems as though you need to be reminded of your place.”

With surgical precision, Hanzo bottomed out inside of you, pausing for just a moment before retreating once again. Another thrust, and it was clear that your self-control would be pushed to the limit; already, you were falling apart, legs shaking from the sheer effort it took to hold back your orgasm. But Hanzo took no mercy on you, setting a steady rhythm that had you moaning helplessly. Fuck, this was getting difficult-

“Jesse, bring me the vibrator.”

God fucking dammit, you thought, your stomach dropping. Without so much as a stutter in his hips, Hanzo took the wand from Jesse’s outstretched hand, watching you intently as he nestled it right next to your clitoris. Your eyes flickered between the two sights, drinking in the sheer power your lover held over you. Then, with a click of a button, you were straining upwards, feeling as though you were being wrenched straight out of your body. Another click, and the vibrations grew even more intense; you longed to bury your hand in Hanzo’s hair, to scratch your nails across his muscled back, to do anything but sit there and take it. Each breath you drew in was cut off by the next, a staccato beat matching the rhythm of your racing pulse. You were close, so close that you could taste it on your tongue– shit!

“Did you really think I would let you cum, slut?” Hanzo asked, still thrusting in and out of your hole without care. Your whole body shuddered helplessly, hypersensitive after being denied once again. As you attempted to catch your breath, Hanzo reached down and twisted your swollen nipple, forcing you to lock eyes with him.

“I asked you a question, whore; answer me,” the archer commanded, practically growling, “Do you think you deserve to cum on my cock?” As if to punctuate his question, Hanzo slammed his hips forward, fucking you hard enough to pull against the ties at your ankles.

“Fuck! No!” you screamed, on the verge of tears. Your voice was wrecked with desperation, hoping beyond hope that the teasing would be over soon. However, you were soon at the mercy of the vibrator once again, letting out a whine at the feeling of it on your tortured clit. Hanzo sped up his pace, sitting up on his knees to watch every inch of your thoroughly marked body writhe underneath him. “That is right, you cumwhore. You do not deserve the honor of an orgasm at my hand. You are lucky that I am willing to fuck you in the first place.”

The vibrator was shut off once more, and you humped against it frantically, reserve long abandoned. “Go ahead, you stupid whore,” Hanzo encouraged, “Humiliate yourself. I want to see how pathetic you look when you cry.” A sob flew from your lips as the toy buzzed to life, only to be shut off seconds later, then turned on again, a sadistic pattern that made your hips jump and stutter on Hanzo’s cock. You could feel the archer’s perfect rhythm begin to falter, signaling his quickly-approaching climax; his moans burned hot on your skin, sending wave after wave of throbbing pleasure through your trembling body. Finally, you felt Hanzo seize up, almost uncannily still in the wake of his orgasm. Scorching cum flooded your hole, arousing enough to make your battered walls flutter with desire. A few heartbeats later, and Hanzo was crashing back down over you, gulping in air like a dying man. Tenderly, he pressed his sweaty forehead against yours, love and awe written in his furrowed brows and slackened mouth. As he breathed against you, you could feel your own hitching breaths slow, agonising desire fading just slightly into a dull roar.

Two pairs of hands whispered over your body, freeing your limbs from their confines, massaging the marks imprinted upon you by the ropes. You felt yourself float away just a little, untethered by chaste kisses pressed to your cheeks and soft hands stroking your thighs. Hanzo’s shifting body weight brought you back to the present, where Jesse was taking his place between your legs; Hanzo unceremoniously flopped to the side, grace all but forgotten in his post-orgasm haze. Your eyes opened slowly to see Jesse looking down at you, positively fit to burst with quiet affection. You smiled back, tensed and eager all the same.

"Ya did so good, darlin'," Jesse said, tone far softer now, "So good for us. Are ya ready for your reward?"

The praise melted into your skin, smoothing the raw edges that had been so expertly laid bare by Hanzo. With a simple nod, Jesse leaned in to kiss you once more, as slow and saccharine as honey. You embraced him in return, palms gliding over the coarse and ruddy plains of his cheeks; you felt like you were glowing from the inside out. Like a wave drawing across the sand, Jesse retreated, hands whispering down to your thighs. The rest of his body followed close behind, settling down between your legs with practiced ease.

"So beautiful, sweetheart," Jesse praised, "I can't wait to make you cum."

And there it was again, the knife's edge of hot desire. Almost subconsciously, you weaved your hands through Jesse's locks, giving them a tug. Jesse groaned deep in his chest, rekindling the flames in your gut. Your cowboy was so responsive. You pulled his hair again, set alight as Jesse muffled his moans into your sweat-soaked thigh.

“You’re gonna kill me, darlin’,” Jesse threatened, kissing his way towards your drenched pussy. A witty retort died in your throat as his tongue flattened against your swollen lips, lapping at the obscene mixture of cum and slick slowly dripping out of you. “Fuck,” you breathed, struck senseless by the hot-wet pleasure of Jesse’s plush mouth. An answering groan rang in your ears as the cowboy finally dipped his writhing tongue into your hole, drinking in the lewd slurry with feverish dedication. Your hands tightened into fists, pulling Jesse further and further in until his nose was pressed flat against your pussy. You whined; a sharpness ran through you along with pleasure, heightening each in a whirlwind of sensation.

Breathless, Jesse pulled back for a moment, sucking in air like a drowning man. In the low light, you could just make out the shine of your slick soaking the cowboy’s goatee–holy shit, that’s hot. Then, with fervor, Jesse was back to it, making you yelp as he latched onto your clit. You ground against him, his tongue sending shockwaves up and down your body; you were shaking with the oh-god-too-much of it all. Every inhale was a battle. Every movement made you see stars. Then, finally, finally, Jesse tore himself from your body, looking you in the eye as he said, “Cum for me, sweetheart."

You felt the command flow through you, breaking down walls and crashing into your nervous system. Jesse bent his head and sucked your clit hard, bringing you to the very edge once again. Mmm-hmm, mmm-hmm, he encouraged you, nearly whimpering; he was bucking his hips, and fuck, fuck, fuck, shit! You were cumming into Jesse’s mouth, vision whited out by a dazzling starburst. Your legs crashed into the cowboy’s face, pinning him to your gushing pussy as you rode out your orgasm; your whole body was spasming, uncontrollable with pleasure. Then, like a puppet cut loose, you were limp, releasing Jesse from your death grip.

The cowboy shot to his knees, ripping his boxers off as fast as possible; his flushed cock was bared, aching and practically dripping precum. "Fuck, babygirl," he moaned, hand flying, "I'm gonna-fuck, I'm gonna cum!" A final groan, and Jesse was falling off the edge with you, release streaking against your rolling abdomen--followed quickly by Jesse actually falling on top of you.

"Holy shit," you laughed, "Get the hell off of me, you jerk!" A gargled mess that might have been a "no" was your only response for a moment, before the pile of sweat and various sexual fluids that was your boyfriend rolled off of you. You couldn't help but giggle at his dramatics--god, you loved your idiots. A moment of silence permeated the room, until you yawned; oh yeah, it's like three A.M...

"If you two are done, I believe it is time for some aftercare," said Hanzo, sounding equally as tired. With his help, you got up, only to fold in half from the sore feeling radiating through your pelvis--fucking fuck, you forgot how much of a bitch this could be. Seeing your discomfort, Hanzo scooped you up, carrying you to the en-suite bathroom. You heard Jesse follow you in, fetching a second set of sheets from the linens cabinet. Carefully, you were set by the toilet, Hanzo turning to allow you some privacy. After finishing your business, you were escorted to the shower, where the archer tenderly cleaned you off. From there, things got blurry--you vaguely remembered the smell of arnica cream, the feeling of a soothing wipe on your swollen lips, strong arms carrying you to bed, and a tender kiss placed on your forehead. Then, you were off to sleep, dreamless and peaceful.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Likes are appreciated, reblogs/comments keep me writing! Let me know what you thought, your favorite passage, or even what time you're reading this at (bonus points if it's 1 A.M. or later). Toodles! ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

[restlessfandoming]

"you, my enemy" (chilumi oneshot)

Lumine must assassinate the cruel king of Snezhnaya, Ajax.

//

i could see this being turned into a full fledged fic? but for now, here is the dollar store version LOL

[Masterlist] [AO3 Link]

"you, my enemy"

“I want you to kill the king of Snezhnaya.”

Lumine’s eyes flickered to her client. “King Ajax?”

“There is only one, is there not?” the hooded man responded.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You must have the wrong person,” she said. “I do run-of-the-mill jobs. I don’t murder kings.”

“I was told you were the only mercenary who could do it.”

Lumine slid out of the bar booth. “Find someone else who is insane enough to do that. I value my life.”

The man’s arm shot out, grabbing Lumine by the wrist. She would have sliced it clean off, had the man not taken off his hood.

He had an unmistakable hue of scarlet red hair, with equally fiery eyes to match.

“You’re Diluc,” Lumine said. “The son of the slain King Ragvindr.” It’s never a good idea to get involved with royals.

His face wavered at the mention of his father. “And who was the one who murdered him?”

“King Ajax,” she answered. “That sounds like your own quest for vengeance. Not mine.”

Diluc pulled her closer. “Magic,” he whispered.

Lumine’s blood ran cold. “Magic?” she echoed hollowly.

“I’ve been trying to find the right person to do this for a long time,” he told her. “I had to do my research.”

“What does magic have to do with this?” Lumine asked, trying to keep her voice even.

“You use magic,” Diluc stated. “That’s how you’ve completed every single one of your assignments perfectly.”

Magic had been banished long ago, a witch hunt massacring any and all magic users within the land of Teyvat. Each of the seven kingdoms had decreed it, agreeing that those with magic were too powerful—a threat to the people, all people.

Ever since, the rare few born with magical powers were forced to hide away their abilities for survival. I thought Aether and I hid it well enough.

“You do this, I won’t report you to the authorities,” Diluc continued.

“What about you?” Lumine hissed. “You’re supposed to be dead with the rest of your family.” She shook off his grip. “If I report you to King Ajax, there’s no doubt I’d get a hefty reward, more than you could ever give me for murdering him.”

He pursed his lips into a thin line. “If there’s any suspicion of a magic user, what sort of action do the authorities take?”

You’re killed on the spot—no questions asked. The kingdoms didn’t want to run any risk of magic users rising up, no matter how small of a threat.

“We would be executed at the same time,” Diluc said lowly.

Shit.

Lumine sat back down in the booth, sinking into the seat, gnawing on the side of her cheek. Then, she took a deep breath in.

“You’ll give me every single piece of Mora you have,” she demanded.

Diluc’s face visibly relaxed. “Of course.” He crossed his arms. “The hidden vaults of my family are all yours: every single jewel, Mora, artifact—when you complete the job.”

Lumine’s mouth nearly watered at the prospect of all the riches.

No, she wasn’t greedy. That amount of Mora meant she and her twin brother Aether could retire from this life, this life of scraping by with the money they made from bloody bounties and assassinations. It was the only job they could do, being abandoned as children, having to learn to fend for themselves.

This one job meant she and Aether could have quiet peace until the end of their days.

She held out her hand to Diluc.

“You have a deal.”

* * *

When Lumine arrives in Snezhnaya, she expects impoverished villages, famished citizens, and cold, desecrated lands—all while this merciless, vile king sat on his throne of bones and riches.

However, what she finds are bustling streets of business and cheerful citizens. Children played freely on the streets. The kingdom was thriving.

Is this king truly as evil as the stories say?

It hadn’t been long since King Ajax had begun his crusade of conquering the entirety of Teyvat. It had started with his brutal assassination of his own ruler at the time, the slaying of the late Tsaritsa, quickly followed by his claim to the throne. Then, he had taken over the small country of Mondstadt, and Liyue fell shortly after.

Any who opposed him would face the sharp end of a blade. The stories of him on the battlefield were whispers of blood soaked garments and a wicked smile as he slaughtered soldier after soldier with no remorse.

The image of this bloodthirsty monster faded as Lumine watched these citizens move around care free, as if they were unaware of the atrocities laying under their feet committed by their dear King Ajax.

Glancing up, she could see the distant looming monument, the grandiose castle of the king, looking over the land with a watchful stone eye.

She listened intently to the conversations around her, seeking any information about this Ajax, about how to get close enough to do her job.

She always wanted the most covert way, and now even more so. This was very much her highest profile case, and if she wasn’t careful, she could potentially start wars, with her murder being the first blood.

Perhaps the best way was to become some nondescript maid, someone’s whose presence and subsequent disappearance wouldn’t be questioned by any of the king’s allies. Perhaps as a chef? She could easily poison his food and silently slip away.

How she wished Aether was here with her. He was much more a strategist than she. Unfortunately, he had taken on a different job, far away in Inazuma. They would not see each other until both of their assignments were completed.

Lumine sighed, moving down the street, in search of a bar. Drunk bastards were always the best source of information: they didn’t know how to shut their mouths. In a bar, there were no figures too suspicious, and if there were, they would quickly be forgotten within a few pints of ale.

She pushed past vendors, until she was stopped by a brunette woman in a lavender robe.

“You are not from here,” she said with a breathy smile.

Singled out already? “I’ve only just recently moved here,” Lumine lied.

“Oh? For what reasons?” the woman pressed, her long eyelashes batting as she assessed Lumine head to toe. “Work?”

“No.” What was this woman’s motive? “I’ve heard Snezhnaya is a great country to live in.”

A content, pitched sigh. “Well, since you’ve just moved here, why don’t you come work for me? Outsiders earn a pretty penny.”

Lumine stared at her. “Who are you?”

The woman smiled. “I am Ying’er. I’m in charge of a local performance troupe.” She stepped closer, and Lumine could smell her flowery perfume. “I would love to have you join us.”

“No, thank you,” Lumine told her, inching away. Sounds like a cheap cover for a brothel. “I’m not in need of a job right now.”

Ying’er pouted, but stepped back. “Alright then, sweetie.” She leaned on the doorway of her shop. “I’ll be right here if you decide to come back,” she finished with a wink.

Lumine gave a curt nod before slinking away, back to her search for a bar. She pulled the hood of her cape over her head, sticking to the shadowed walls on her walk. Do I really stick out that much here?

In the distance, she heard the subtle pounding of a drum, and watched, astonished, as the crowded streets parted straight down the middle. An eerie silence filled the previously buzzing plaza. Something was coming.

All the citizens had their heads bowed—Lumine quickly followed suit.

The booming of the drums came closer, and she heard the thunderous marching of armored boots layered into the sound. She glanced up.

There was an entourage of armored soldiers, an assortment of glistening weapons at their sides, escorting a decorated golden carriage.

King Ajax.

What was this? Was there some sort of special occasion taking place?

Much easier to find than expected.

The carriage rolled past. Lumine strained to look at the window while still keeping her head bowed.

Unfortunately, the window was curtained, a velvety red cloth obscuring any view of the king. Lumine wrinkled her nose in disappointment; she had wanted to see what she was up against.

The terrifying rumors of King Ajax never told of what he looked like. Lumine imagined a beastly figure, one with dark shaggy hair and sharp teeth, bones all jutting out in the wrong directions, filleted with raw scars all over.

The carriage continued to move past.

Could she do it? Could she use her magic to take him out right now? There certainly was a large number of people around, and all of them would be suspects; all the easier for her to get away.

However, the guards could easily murder everyone in the plaza if a perpetrator wasn’t found. And, as Ying’er so blatantly pointed out, Lumine didn’t exactly fit in with the Snezhayan citizens.

She would just have to wait. Wait for a better opportunity. Wait to learn more about King Ajax. Wait to plan the best way to kill him.

There was a rustle of murmurs as the citizens returned to their activities, the royal carriage and its guards wheeling out of sight—the air more tense than before.

Taking in a deep breath, she resumed her search.

I need a drink.

* * *

Lumine sat in the corner booth as always, the seat in the bar that could overlook the entire establishment, the place where she could easily see who entered and exited the building.

She sipped at her mug of ale: not enough to become inebriated, but just enough to take some of her stress away. She still listened intently for any utterances about King Ajax.

She kept her eye on a man who was chugging pint after pint of alcohol, complaining about his job, his kids, his wife.

Maybe he’ll complain about his king as well.

“God, I miss Mondstadt,” the man sighed.

Lumine raised a brow. Someone from the conquered land of Mondstadt? He should definitely harbor some resentment for King Ajax.

“Careful there,” the bartender muttered. “The king will have your tongue if you speak ill of him.”

The drunkard scoffed. “The king ain’t here, is he? Too busy with his parties and parades to ever come to a hole-in-the-wall bar.”

The bartender shrugged, silently wiping a glass.

“C’mon,” the man continued. “You don’t think it’s weird how he always invites those performers to the castle? What a dramatic man.” A hiccup. “You think he beds all of them?”

“Probably. Lots of women would want to sleep with the king”

“See, King Ragvindr never did things like that.” He laid his head on the counter. “A modest man. Genuinely cared about his people.”

“King Ajax cares for us. He provides—he’s made Snezhnaya wealthier than ever.”

“Hmph. Is that why he murders people in cold blood? Remember that man that got executed in the street for not bowing to him?”

“Just listen to him, and you’ll be fine.”

Lumine slid out of her booth, making her way to the exit, to a certain brunette woman with a lavender robe.

He likes performers.

A plan started to bubble in her mind as she walked the streets to Ying’er’s shop.

She would slip into the castle with the performance troupe. She would feign illness, seemingly leaving early, when in actuality, she would hide until all the guests had left. King Ajax would retire for the night, alone—and that’s when she would strike.

Lumine smiled, just a bit, confidence coming to her now that she knew what to do.

Her and Aether’s life of freedom felt like a breath away.

* * *

“You’ve certainly improved quite a lot,” Ying’er said, sauntering into Lumine’s quarters.

Lumine set her lyre down. “Guess I’m a quick learner.”

It had been a few weeks since Lumine had arrived in Snezhnaya, and became one of Ying’er performers. She had decided to learn an instrument—the lyre—while staying with Ying’er and the rest of the performers at the hostess’ establishment. She preferred it over becoming a poet or dancer.

Ying’er was right: many people came to watch Lumine sit prettily on stage and play her lyre—her face painted with make-up, and her body adorned with beautiful robes and gowns.

All the while, Lumine anxiously awaited the king’s invitation to their performance troupe. He had invited different groups all over town, though not Ying’er’s yet.

Was this plan a failure? Where was that damned man’s invitation—

“Is that what I think it is?” Lumine asked, eyeing the embellished envelope in her boss’ hand.

Ying’er hummed in affirmation. “The king has finally invited our group to perform at a party tonight.”

Finally. “What an honor,” Lumine said with a smile.

“Very much so.” Ying’er put her hand under Lumine’s chin, examining her face. “Yes...I will have you dressed in our best garments and make-up.”

The woman smiled. “After all, you are our pretty little star.”

* * *

The carriage ride to the castle was filled with the girls’ giggles and whispers, how they wished for the king to whisk them away into a life of riches and royalty, to be his beloved first wife. Lumine kept a hand pressed against her leg—ensuring the dagger hidden under her heavy robes wouldn’t fall out.

She didn’t like to get messy with such a close ranged weapon—she would usually just use her magic from a distance—but she wasn’t going to take a chance if something were to go awry.

As they neared the castle, everyone burst into gasps, admiring the massive stone structure. The excitement doubled as the dozens of other carriages came into view as well.

This is going to be one very extravagant party.

Before she knew it, Lumine was sitting in the great hall, along with the rest of the party goers, awaiting the king’s arrival. She saw the empty throne at the very front of the room, raised on a marble platform, his rightful place above his subjects.

A fanfare of brass instruments blared. The king is here.

The room collectively stood, bowing their heads as the king’s personal guards filed in. Lumine quirked her head to look for King Ajax.

Oh.

The king was not a hideous looking beast at all.

In fact, he was quite the opposite.

He walked in, tall stature carrying an air of importance (and arrogance) on his shoulders with a billowing crimson red cloak, a broad grin plastered on his face. He was young, exactly around Lumine’s age.

He had reddish-brown hair framing his face, locks that glittered like gold in the light of the room, and his eyes were like vortexes—deep whirlpools of the bluest ocean water. All his features were sharp, upturned, like a cunning fox waiting contently to trap its prey.

She watched as he made his way up to his throne, a sickening anxiety spreading through her limbs.

Lumine had never killed anyone so close in age to her—it had always been older men and women. And, of course, she had never found herself attracted to her target.

“Please,” the king spoke, still grinning. “Have a seat.” As he sat on his throne, the rest of the room sat as well.

Lumine swallowed the lump in her throat. His voice was light, playful even.

Was that truly the murderous king of Snezhnaya?

“A toast, to you, my people,” he said, raising a golden goblet. “Let the festivities begin.”

Lumine gulped down her own glass of wine, then shook her head.

I’m here for a job. Not romance.

The room filled with chatter, and Ying’er motioned to Lumine and the rest of the musicians to the corner where they would be performing their music for the night.

Lumine gathered her lyre, shuffling towards her spot in her heavily layered robes. Her mouth was set in a taut line.

A momentary lapse in judgement.

As she played the first few notes, her eyes flickered to the king, who was busy greeting various nobles at his throne. She narrowed her eyes at him, at that sly, sly smile on his face.

It won’t happen again.

* * *

The night seemed to drag on forever. After what seemed like an eternity of playing music for the room—as other patrons ate and danced and conversed—the musicians were finally taking a break.

Lumine delightfully chewed through expensive meats and breads as various actors, dancers, and poets took the floor in front of King Ajax to present their pieces.

The king seemed to be entertained, joining on some of the performances himself.

That drunkard from the bar was right. King Ajax was quite dramatic, inserting himself into the spotlight whenever he so pleased. How pretentious.

The crowd clapped and cheered as another performance was brought to an end, an air of boisterous chatter resuming. Lumine swallowed her last piece of food, making her way to Ying’er.

Time to get started.

“Ying’er,” Lumine called to her boss, clenching her side. “I feel a bit sick.”

The brunette woman raised a brow. “You were looking quite well before.”

“Yes, it was very sudden,” Lumine responded, turning to the exit. “I think I will just head back now.”

“So soon, dear? We haven’t even introduced ourselves to the king yet.”

Lumine was already on her way out. “I’ll see you back at the shop.”

She slipped past the guards patrolling the halls, ducking into the nearest empty room, a storage closet of sorts. Perfect.

She hiked her long robes up, unsheathing her dagger, cutting away at the garments. Sorry, Ying’er. But I can’t fight in this. She threw the discarded fabric in a dark corner, where they would be forgotten about.

She slid the knife back into its sheath, and cracked the door open the tiniest bit—enough to watch the entrance into the great hall.

Now, all she had to do was wait.

* * *

Lumine would have fallen asleep had it not been for the two guards who stopped to converse right outside her door. Within a matter of seconds, Lumine had gone from sleepily nodding off to firmly clenching her weapon in her hand, nerves buzzing on high alert.

“That party dragged on forever,” one of the guards said. “I don’t know how King Ajax does it. Isn’t he exhausted every night?”

“Not sure. He seems to enjoy it.”

“He’s been gone a while now. Should we check on him?”

Lumine tightened her grasp on her dagger. He was gone?

“No. He likes to be alone at night. He’ll kill you if you interrupt him.”

“Oh...Should we just go to the other side of the castle then? So we don’t...interrupt him?”

“...Sounds like a good idea.”

The sound of their footsteps faded, and Lumine dared a peek out the door to scope out the hallway.

There were no other guards, and the boisterous sounds of the party were long gone.

Lumine slid out of the closet, sneaking down the hall, starting her search for King Ajax.

Sounds like he’s still here somewhere. Alone.

This job was getting easier and easier.

Too easy.

* * *

Please be in this room.

There was a great stone door before her, one she had come to after a mind-numbingly exhaustive search through the entirety of the large castle. She pushed on the door, as slowly and as quietly as possible, then looked in.

She nearly cried out in relief.

Sitting in the middle of the room was King Ajax, his back turned to her.

He was completely silent, unmoving, in this empty stone room. Was he asleep? No, it looked more like meditation.

Lumine slinked in, silently, conjuring the elemental energy of the wind in the room.

She would take every bit of air out of his body. Quick, quiet, no mess. It was the method she had always used.

She closed her eyes to focus, feeling the pull of air from his lungs.

He was going to die, and she was going to be free, free with her brother—

WHOOSH!

Lumine opened her eyes just in time to see Ajax rush towards her.

His hand wrapped around her throat, and he slammed her into the ground. All of the breath in her body hissed out of her, and she clawed at his hand.

“Who are you?” he growled.

She stopped prying at his hold, quickly yanking out her dagger, and slashing at his face.

He dodged, forcing him to loosen his grip on her.

She slashed again at his hand, throwing herself away from him as he recoiled in pain. She rubbed at her neck, gasping for breath. The king was looking at the gash across his fingers.

Shitshitshit.

Lumine quickly focused her energy on the earth below, trying to create shackles out of stone to hold him in place, or to just bury him alive.

The ropes of earth sprang out of the ground. His eyes flickered to the coils as they rushed for him.

Yes!

But then a swirling mass of water appeared, engulfing him, destroying the chains in the process.

What—?!

A sharp stream of water shot out from the bubble, coiling around Lumine before she could react. She was pulled to the ground, bound, and unable to move.

The bubble of water dissipated, and Ajax stepped out, eyes ablaze. He approached Lumine.

“Who are you?” he asked again, less angry, more inquisitive.

She strained against the chains of water, her elemental energy unable to rid them. She locked eyes with him. “You’re a magic user.”

He squatted next to her. “You are too,” he responded, the smallest ghost of a smile on his lips. He took her dagger into his hands, weighing it. “Now, why were you trying to kill me?”

Lumine bit her cheek. No, she couldn’t sell Diluc out; he could still get Aether killed.

“That’s how you conquered Mondstadt and Liyue so easily. You used magic,” she pushed, ignoring his question. “That’s forbidden.”

He barked out a laugh, wiping his bloodied hand on her robes. “And yet, here we are, two magic users in one room.” He pointed the dagger at Lumine’s neck. “Tell me why you were trying to kill me, before I make it only one. I won’t ask again.”

“You’re going to kill me anyway,” Lumine said. “I’m a magic user. That threatens your power, doesn’t it?”

Ajax studied her for a second, pulling the dagger back, just a bit. “True.” He tilted his head. “But I’ve never actually met another magic user before.”

She averted his intense gaze. “So what are you going to do? Keep me alive and experiment on me?”

“No.” He stood. “How about this...in exchange for sparing your life, you become my student.”

…

What?

“You mean learn magic from you?” Lumine glared at him. “How do you know I won’t kill you in the future?”

“You won’t,” he said. “This murder attempt? Wasn’t personal—you tried to kill me from a distance. Someone must have sent you.” He closed his eyes, squeezing the hilt of the dagger. After some shaking, it disintegrated into dust.

“Also, you can’t kill me,” he continued, opening his eyes. “You’re severely untrained. You saw how easily I subdued you.” A small smile. “All the more reason to learn from me.”

Maybe this was the gods taking mercy on Lumine. Ajax didn’t kill her right away; she had a chance to live, to get back home to Aether.

“What’s in it for you? This only seems to benefit me,” she said to Ajax.

He hummed, thinking. “A potentially powerful weapon,” he responded, eyes glinting.

Maybe, once she learned more magic, she could overtake him, and complete her job.

She locked eyes with him.

“You have a deal.”

The ghost of those words burned bitter on her tongue.

* * *

Lumine nearly died the next morning.

“You did what?!” she gasped out, after deathly choking on a part of her breakfast.

She was currently sitting across from Ajax in his elegant dining room, who had just informed her that he had announced their marriage.

He leaned back in his chair. “A random new woman living in the king’s castle? Bound to raise many rumors,” he said, nonchalant. “This way, there are no rumors, and we can train without being questioned.”

Lumine worried her lip. He has a point.

“I don’t—We don’t have to...do anything in public, do we?” she asked.

“No.” He smirked. “Unless you want to, pretty girl.”

She grimaced. “No, thank you.” Here for a job, not romance, she reminded herself, no matter how handsome this cocky bastard is. Not to mention, she still planned to kill him.

And so, Lumine’s days were filled with training, pretending to the servants and maids she was King Ajax’s fiancée. She was trapped, as Ajax reminded her many times that if she tried to leave, he would swiftly execute her.

She learned more about him, as much as she didn’t want to. She saw that he did really care for his people, and provided for them as best he could—though he wasn’t above using his power to strike down those in his way, whether it was an enemy or a citizen who simply disrespected his reign.

And that was ultimately what he wanted: power. To have power over everyone in the land of Teyvat. He had endless ambition—Lumine could credit him that much.

Some days, she caught herself imagining it as well: a world she could rule over, have everyone bend to her will, set the laws so people like her and Aether could live without fear, and be provided for. In some ways, she could relate to Ajax’s desires. In some ways, she could justify his methods.

It very much disgusted her, at first. But then, it was liberating. To have someone who could understand the darker sides to her being, understand the blood on her hands.

Even Aether could never fully understand her. How part of her was always glad to be given magical powers to defend herself and those she cared about. How part of her enjoyed her current situation.

After all, she was living lavishly, compared to the impoverished life she had before. She had every meal provided for, luxuriously, and a soft bed to lay in every night. No threat of the authorities finding out about her powers and murdering her.

Could she perhaps bring Aether here?

Ajax had spared her—was it too much of a stretch to believe he would spare her twin as well?

If Aether could be brought here, she wouldn’t have to kill Ajax. She wouldn’t have to kill perhaps the only person in Teyvat that knew who she truly was.

* * *

“If you found another magic user,” she asked Ajax over dinner, “would you train them as well?”

Ajax took a sip of wine from his goblet. “No.”

“...No?”

A small smile, a slight flash of his canines. “I can’t have my weapons outnumbering me, now can I?”

Lumine’s mouth went dry. “If you won’t train them...what would you do with them?”

“Kill them.” He set the cup down. “They would be a threat.”

“I’m not a threat?”

Ajax barked out a laugh. “No, Lumine. No, you are not.”

Ah.

So she and Aether couldn’t be together here. Aether was still in danger of being outed by Diluc.

“Why?” Ajax questioned. “Are you lonely here?”

“I’m trapped in your castle. What do you think?”

He rested his head on his hand. “My bed is open at night, if you’d like.”

Lumine drove her knife through her food. “You’re insufferable.”

“Oh, Lumine, it’s just banter,” he said, chuckling. “You don’t think we’re friends? I quite like your company.”

She pursed her lips, staying silent.

“You don’t have to lie to me.” Ajax stared right at her. “I see you while we train. You like it here. You like becoming more and more powerful.”

He leaned over the table. “You and I are very similar.” He smiled. “There’s a hunger in your eyes. You want exactly what I have.”

Lumine stood abruptly. “We are nothing alike,” she spat uselessly. He sees right through me.

“I told you, you don’t have to lie to me,” Ajax responded, sitting back in his chair. “We are already married. We could rule together—as partners.”

...What?

“I thought I was your weapon.” Her knuckles were white from clutching the edge of the table.

“Partner if you so choose.” His blue eyes narrowed slightly. “Weapon if not.”

What game is he playing? “There has to be some sort of catch.” He was essentially offering her his power as king, even if it was just partially.

“No catch,” he said. “Like I said, if you refuse, you’ll just continue your little life of entrapment, as my weapon.”

“One of these options is obviously better than the other.”

Ajax laughed, genuinely, his expression softening, just a bit. “I guess one is.”

She gave him a look, quizzical, before swiftly leaving the room, his proposal still hanging in the night.

As the guards escorted her back to her room, she played the conversation over and over again in her mind.

Would it be so bad? Would it be so bad as King Ajax’s consort, his companion through his crusade of Teyvat?

He was right: part of her deep down ached for that kind of power.

But joining Ajax meant sacrificing her dear brother.

The aching desire hissed, Is that a sacrifice you are going to make?

* * *

The castle’s stone floors were freezing on Lumine’s feet as she traversed through the halls barefoot. No shoes meant no sound. No sound meant she could surprise the guards, getting the upper hand to take them out. Already, there was a trail of dead guards behind her as she passed through the corridors, the air stripped from their lungs.

Her sheer white nightgown fluttered around her as she dashed about, and in the dim moonlight waning through the windows, she thought herself a ghost, an angel of death. She was on a path she could not stop.

She knew exactly where he was. After spending so many days trapped here, of course she knew where the king’s quarters were.

She knew him like clockwork: what days he would stay up in his study, what days he would retire to his chambers and when. She knew where his guards were, when they would switch patrols, when their protection would be the weakest.

And when it came time, she stood outside of his door, wavering on the spot slightly.

She shook her head, trying the door. Locked.

Taking a breath in, she rapped her knuckles on the hardwood.

She heard rustling beyond the heavy oak door, her heartbeat picking up. She would have to get in there quick, before he looked behind her and saw his guards missing.

The door swung open, a flash of anger on Ajax’s face until he saw who it was.

He gave her a closed-eye smile. “Ah, Lumine, to what do I owe the pleasure—”

Lumine stood on the tips of her toes, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss.

She could feel him go rigid under her touch. She walked him backwards, further into the room, closing the door behind her with her foot.

As the door shut, he broke away from her. “Are you accepting my proposal?” he whispered, his hands clutched around her arms.

Lumine nodded, going for another kiss, arms slinking around his shoulders. This time, he melted into her touch, pulling until he was under her on his bed.

He fell for it.

Pity crept into her heart. From the way he breathed her in, the way he held her in his arms, there was a softness she had never seen from him.

He loved her.

She was his weapon, and now, his greatest weakness.

“I’m sorry,” she said against his lips.

His eyes opened, those ocean eyes on her as she pulled the air from his lungs with ease.

You shouldn’t have trained me.

His hand reached for her throat, but went to his own as he gasped and choked.

She wrapped her own hands around his, pressing down. She slammed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see his face.

He thrashed wildly, and she repeated I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’msorryimsorry over and over again until he went still under her.

…

…

...

She opened her eyes, the world blurry around her. She wiped away the tears pooling in her vision, and looked down at Ajax.

He was unmoving, eyes glazed over, arms limp at his side.

Lumine reached for his throat, hand shaking, fingers checking for a pulse.

He’s dead.

She scrambled off of him, crumbling into a ball on the floor.

I killed him.

Her breathing was uneven—she was the one gasping for breath now as uncontrollable sobs racked through her body.

I am so sorry, Ajax.

* * *

“Lumi?”

Lumine turned to see Aether looking at her with worry.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

A breeze rustled by. Lumine turned back to look over green fields that stretched as far as she could see.

“I’m okay,” she responded.

“Okay,” he repeated. He smiled a bit, pulling an envelope from his pocket. “Diluc’s hawk came this morning. He sends warm wishes to us both.”

After the assassination of King Ajax, Lumine decreed Snezhnaya a freed country, a country with no ruler, and returned the lands of Mondstadt and Liyue back to their rightful heirs. Diluc, now the restored king of Mondstadt, gave Lumine and Aether the riches he promised, and a home deep in the countryside for the peaceful life they so desperately wanted.

But sometimes Lumine had nightmares of Ajax.

She would be sitting next to him, on their thrones as the King and Queen of Snezhnaya. Sometimes, little princes and princesses of theirs would be running around as well.

They would have conjured all of Teyvat together.

They would have loved each other.

Lumine would wake up, tears in her eyes, heart heavy with desire for that life.

And then she would cry because her life would never be peaceful ever again.

[horanghoe]

warm milk & honey - SKZ fic

A/N: I just realised I forgot Han ^ I am screaming

Pairing: OT7/reader

Rating: PG friendly (with a friendly warning of poly / multiple person relationship).

Genre: POLY!SKZ / Fluff / Very slight angst & mentions of bad sleep patterns.

Word Count: 3.6k exactly, my doods

Summary: A restless night, ultimately remedied by your sweet baby man angel boys. Or alternatively: Istg if Jisung makes one more weird noise imma end this man’s whole life no cap, Binnie hold me back -

Back to ~ SKZ Masterlist

Back to ~ Main Masterlist

Special Mentions <3

 @domjaehyun​ for being a yoghurt eating legend that takes a year to respond ASKDJF ILY BICH//

@seowoos​ for inspiring this whole damn thing & helping me feel more comfortable w publishing more niche content models. Even if it’s just cheesy enough for the two of us <3 //

@chocolvte​ for being another OG on this list, n just generally being a sweet bean <3 baby girl ur reactions were the second inspiration to get me INTO SKZ in the first place. ily uwu // 

and lastly, surprise @mikoto-ica-fics​ !! You were the last part of the equation that got me to write smin for these boys. I binged practically all your fics in two nights bby, keep making michellin star fics <3

Tonight wasn’t working out quite as you had expected.

To be honest, it was fucking shit.

Well, the night itself was okay. In terms of activities. An evening in with your boyfriend, Chan.

Just you two versus the world. The poor boy was so tired that honestly, it had only consisted of a walk through the park to grab snacks, and returning to the empty dorm to laze around the whole evening. A Netflix date with some *ahem* late night fun to settle you both into a deep, restful state.

It was brilliant, fantastic. Until it wasn’t.

Until you lay painfully awake in his bed and suffocated in the dark silence and space between you. It wasn’t Chan’s fault; the obnoxious whirring of electronics made your head spin, tiny flashing lights and minute feelings of unease at the cupboard door leaning open; all made it virtually impossible to sleep.

It was too cold. Too hot. You were so comfortable, melted into the mattress. But it was swallowing you and your claustrophobia was starting to make you twitch. Moving off of your angelic boy’s limbs, you shimmied to the cooler side of the bed.

He stirred a little, before settling on turning away, onto his side. Phew. At least you hadn’t woken him. It wasn’t like you were trying to be selfish, but fuck. This was insufferable.

Every time you looked at the clock you were sure it slowed down - balls, at this point it could’ve skipped back an hour and you wouldn’t have batted an eye. Mostly because if they weren’t checking the clock, they were staring dead straight up at the ceiling.

Eh. Ugh. Fuck. I can’t sleep.

That’s all your brain could think. Stuck - monotone and on a never-ending loop.

It seemed like everything you had ever thought was swimming around in your brain like some kind of primordial juice. Feelings and emotions swelling and bloating in your belly until they settled.

And then a car passed outside, and everything started to swell up again.

Chan was on his side, turned away and peacefully gaining some shut-eye. He was only lightly sleeping though, that much you could tell. His body gently lifting, then falling with breath. Like you; he often struggled to sleep deeply, usually not lasting very long when he did manage to.

You were so pissed.

How dare he sleep. And look so good doing it. Even just his bareback looked hot as shit - here you were, a messy, greasy big toe wrestling with your stupid ape brain to shut off the useless brain thoughts, next to this slice of heaven - just, ugh existing so perfectly.

“Oh my god, this is torture.” You cursed quietly into the dead space.

Maybe the frustration was all from hormones?

Nah, fuck that. Feminism and all that jazz. That’s just part of the human condition, babycakes. Happens to the best of us, unfortunately.

No, what it was, was the constant whirring coming from the TV screen and Felix’s PlayStation tower and large monitor. The tiny little flashes, whirrs, huffs from the fan and rotating lights. It was driving you abhorrently insane. FUCK.

“Chan? Channie, baby, are you awake?.” You whispered into the air. His breath faltered a little, stirred mostly by your movement to groan, gruff and flip the duvet off your hot, sticky body. Gentle though you tried to be, it was still enough to wake his fuzzy brain.

“Chan, please. I’m sorry babe but that TV is driving me fucking insane.” Your voice was too alert and frustrated for him not to stir. His heart panged a little at the distress laced in your tone.

“Please, Channie. I’m so sorry…”

He rolled on his back to look at you. Slowly, and with much effort. He groaned softly before wiping his eyes and leaving his arms above his head.

“Hey.” He whispered, warmly smiling.

“Don’t be sorry – can you not sleep again, baby girl?” Chan asked softly, watching you sit stiffly upright. His deep voice made your heart flutter, nodding as he groaned. He smiled despite any resentment you may have allowed him to feel. Resting his warm palm against your rib as he muttered a response - you excused his fumbled words for definition - so tired he was barely able to keep his eyes open.

“You can turn it off, yeah?” Chan sighed.

What he meant was ‘You know how and where to turn it off, without messing up the whole system like last time, right?’. You nodded quickly, squeezing his bicep lightly before slipping from the exposed mattress.

Dashing up to scramble behind the low TV unit and find the one wire to end it all. Your infernal pain that was.

He watched you, letting his eyes rest occasionally. Truth was, you looked so beautiful to him when you were concentrating on something. For example, pulling out the HDMI cord triumphantly. And holding in a small squeal (scream), of relief when the high pitched buzzing cut out with a slight electronic fuzz. He chuckled, not missing your little feet pattering in step with a tiny little victory pump.

“Yes. Fuck. The noise, it’s gone!” Chan chuckled softly, keeping his arm outstretched until you landed beside him. Pulling you toward him, under the covers.

“Yeah, you really got that wire Y/N. Showed it who’s the boss, huh?” His tired enthusiasm outweighed his sarcasm, owning a soft kiss to the cheek as you clambered over the bed, only to flop with a weighted sigh straight down onto his shoulder.

He giggled, smiling with a yawn as he tucked his arm against your ribs, tucking you up against his chest in a bearhug.

You fell asleep quickly; soft breaths and just the presence of Chan's being, enough to satiate the gnawing ache in the back of your brain.

And it was peaceful. Restful. Warm, and so pleasant.

Until it wasn’t.

Turns out tonight wasn’t your night. The clock read 1:28 am – and the boys were due to come home from practice any moment now. To be honest they were pretty late.

Chan had originally had the day off, hence the chance for you to be led here in his arms. But you were starting to think it really hadn’t made that much of a difference.

It wasn’t just the high pitched whirring that had aggravated you, but now the uncomfortable heat radiating from Chan's body. The small whoosh of cool air against your neck at any vehicle that passed by. Or just the evening breeze. You groaned softly, dropping your head back to Chan’s chest with a soft thud, lulling back into a light and unrestful sleep.

Ten minutes or so passed. Waking from a fuzzy dream, you were disorientated. The worst dreams always happened in short little bursts. Like little hellish fever dreams.

The clock now read 1:39 am and the time between minutes was becoming unbearable. Too long to bear . You had to move. Speak. Scream. Cry. Kick. Do something.

Peeling off Chan’s arm, and replacing yourself with a large fluffy pillow, you left your lover to rest. You dread to think that it would be able to replace you, but hey, at least it wouldn’t move like one big fat sweaty ferret, right?

Sigh. Sad times.

You abandoned Chan for the disgustingly bright hallway. Seeking new comforts, from whoever would take you. The boys were home; noises of beings floating down the hall, past Chan’s room.

By the time you had gathered the strength to rise off the bed though – blinking away the stars and excited little lines in your vision and raising enough chi to move your soul, and body upwards off of the bed – an inkling of tiredness was starting to itch into your consciousness.

You ached to be held. Loved.

You weren’t sleepy enough to get back into his bed though. Though; you missed Chan’s body as soon as you had tumbled yourself away from it.

---------

Fetching your favourite fluffy square pillow and putting on one of Chan’s big shirts, you padded out and into the hallway. The door closed behind you with a soft putt, pillow tight against your belly.

The tired but comfortingly loud voices of your other lovers were coming from the kitchen.

You wobbled forward, groaning to yourself as your thighs began to ache. Just from being alive, you guessed. Your thighs tingled your skin into little chilly goosebumps, a shiver sparking down your spine.

Maybe the heat of Chan’s bed wasn’t so bad, you began to consider. Before a voice echoed down to where you were slowly walking from.

“Ya – hold up, I’ll grab my jumper then we can watch that stupid shit-film you were on about earlier?” You heard Jisung shout over the kitchen to the boys gathered on the sofa.

The boys muttered some form of agreement and before you could process it, the firm but soft body of Han Jisung had swung right around the corner and straight into your zombie path.

Being conscious, and not half-dead like you, he was able to stop abruptly in front of you and step back a little. The shock of a body blocking his path was quickly masked with warm love as he cooed at the sight of you.

“Y/n-ieeeeee look at youuuu~” He whispered loudly, wrapping his arms around you to squeeze you firm against his body.

His presence eased you, despite the chaotic energy he may have appeared to have. He was just one big squirrel with muscles. The perfectly-right size to pull you against him, your neck flopping so skin met skin, cheek to shoulder in that white sleeveless shirt of his.

You melted into his caring touch, groaning when he gave a squeeze and actually, not hating how firmly he held you. For a moment, he seemed to be just quietly accepting your unspoken words. Night-long grief expressed in the way you clung to him.

Eventually, he asked the inevitable questions, though.

“Baby, why aren’t you asleep? Hmm, pretty? It’s like, 2 am already!” He exclaimed softly, somewhat conscious of Chan’s sleeping presence down the hall. And your zombie-eardrums.

You couldn’t answer, instead, you let him pull you away so he could peer down at your head against his shoulder. The pillow was a soft barrier between you, though he removed it to place it softly on the floor.

“As cute as you look in Chan’s top right now, baby, this hallway is pretty cold. Gosh damn, your legs are shaking so much. How long have you been standing out here princess? Let’s get you warmed up, yeah?” He squeezed you against him once more - rubbing his warm palms against your trembling, shivering thighs.

As he stood back up you groaned again, reluctant to articulate how badly you just wanted to be softly touched. Not aggressively rubbed. Even if you appreciated the notion, it was cutely awkward. Your expression made him laugh softly, tucking hair behind your ear and placing a kiss on your cheek, head, forehead.

“You okay though? Wanna come sit with us?” You nodded quickly, body flopping into his hold as soon as his arms went to lift you. Your head rested on his shoulder, Jisung’s body dipping to lift you and wrap your knees around his hips. He was such a careful, sweet baby boy.

“Ya – come on you big baby, you. Who do you want to be delivered too for the meantime, huh? I gotta go change out of my gym stuff.”

��Hyunjin-ah... please...” You mumbled airily. Despite how unused your voice was, it was sweet as honey. He smiled, responding with a soft “Sure" before turning back to where he had come from. Heart warmed by the opportunity to care for you, even if for just a moment.

And even though he was a bit sticky – and the thought ‘yuck' registered quickly in your half-conscious brain – you didn’t mind the smell. Or the languid way he carried you.

You nuzzled against his neck, groaning once more as his entrance was announced to the room. A loud “Han Jisung's Special Delivery Service!” was projected, I.N. slipping by with a quick ruffle of your hair before moving to turn down the hall, into his room. The boys looked up at the noise and your entrance into the room, immediately softened by the sight.

You, entirely snuggled against a buoyant Jisung, that held you so carefully against his chest. Messy hair tucked under his chin; your eyes were puffy, sore, and barely open as he came into the centre of the soft-lit room.

“Nawww – cuuuutieeee~” Changbin cooed, Lee Know giggling as Seungmin stepped forward to kiss your cheek, sweetly brushing hairs away from your face. The proximity to Jisung didn’t seem to spook his intimacy.

Your eyes fluttered close from the embrace, Seungmin smiling to himself at his ability to soothe you. Even just a little.

“That’s a funny looking jumper, Ji.” Seungmin quipped, before adding a quick “Hi Y/N.” With a small squeeze of your cheek, before heading toward the kitchen.

“Hyunjin-ah you have a special request delivery here, where shall I put her?” Jisung questioned, approaching the sofa nimbly.

Hyunjin smiled, shuffling a little before holding out his arms, patting his lap.

“Right here~” you heard, before feeling gravity weigh at your back. You got off early, aided by Jisung and Hyunjin’s hands on your hips. Quietly you yawned, turning to a barefaced beautiful boy, smiling at you cutely.

Jisung pecked a kiss on your shoulder before passing, leaving to go sort himself out.

Hyunjin smiled up at you with a coo, pulling you down towards him with his long limbs. With you laying, legs tangled above him he wiggled back so you could lay comfortably on his chest.

He kissed your cheek before tucking your forehead against his chin, your eyes slowly bobbing open and shut as his calm vibe washed over you. Changbin shared some of your weight on the somewhat roomy sofa; kissing your hair softly and curling against you to keep you warm.

The television was on a late-night MC show playing. Though it registered to you as white noise. The boy’s voices over you were soothing, even if they edged a little loud occasionally.

At some point, you had started to drift off again. For the most part, Hyunjin was a gentle giant anyways. So despite his resistance to skinship, your body (and some of the boys), was never left out in terms of body-pillow-comforts.

Meaning, he treated your limbs like a very bony pillow he could encapsulate entirely.

You weren’t sure where the others were. Or what part of the sofa you were even on. You figured the end since the guys had their feet up. But you didn’t mind. It was safe. Here, in their arms. Against their bodies.

Even the bright overhead lights of the kitchen and hallway weren’t enough to stop you lulling into sleep.

At a later point, you awoke again with a startle – Jisung shushing your tired whines with a kiss as he jumped onto the sofa to your left, a little too enthusiastically. Hyunjin moaned like a brat, ultimately having a play fight underneath you until you mustered up a death stare to end all squabbles, ever. Period. Jisung settled, intertwining your fingers on Hyunjin’s belly until your breath softened. Falling into a weak slumber once more.

Once again; your sleep was great. Perfect. Until it wasn’t.

An abrupt jostle of Hyunjin jolting to stop spilling the food he held above your head, was met with an unattractive grunt of pure disgust on your part. Eyes squinted, head wrinkled and body tense, you were once again awake.

“Sorry baby! I didn’t mean to wake you!” Hyunjin whined, too loudly next to your throbbing head. Changbin noticed your tense limbs and pulled you backwards against his chest. This merely caused another squabble to ensue between them - who held the right to hold you, like a fluffy comfort blank.

Suddenly everything was bothering you again.

Their constant jostling and boyish movements were just too much. You pulled up from Changbin. Avoiding the tugging, whining, needy arms and hands from Hyunjin to stand weakly once more.

Frustrated. Tired. And all coupled with a reasonably ugly scowl weeping over your face.

They were so engrossed in their silly little arguments, little kicks, punches and teasing laughter, that they barely even noticed your sluggish movements to get up.

Until you were on your feet. Your body heat sapped from them in a bitter attempt at being sour. Hyunjins hands immediately flew out to steady you. Changbin pouting but ultimately letting you retreat once more.

“Y/Nieeee~ Come baaack, I didn’t mean it. Come lay back down, baby~” Hyunjin whined warily, the other two boys still giggling amongst themselves. You swatted against the tiredness on your face, grumbling before stumbling backwards.

You made it a few steps before you folded over on impact at hitting the kitchen table. The table thudded on impact and the boys winced, watching your face scrunch up in pain immediately.

A new pair of hands caught you this time, stuttering before lean arms caught you.

“Woah! Careful there pretty girl, nearly took the whole bloody table out. You okay?”

Felix's. Soft, caring and most importantly soft voice and calm motions of support waved over you in a way that gave you immediate comfort. You rested your head against his chest as he tugged you up, body slumping into him with an inaudible impact. He giggled, despite your weighted movements, speaking lowly with that deep, tired voice of his.

“Y/N, you silly sausage, are you alright?” He prompted quietly, leaning his head down to capture your whines and huffs of pain.

“Owww, my butt… That hurt~” You groaned, not minding his giggles but sending a puffy glare to the others snickering away on the sofa.

The table (or your idiot bulldozer body), had set a deep ache right into the cheek of your butt. Your hand kneaded it gently before Felix’s hand quickly replaced yours, rubbing and squeezing softly until your face scrunched, the pain subsiding.

“Ouch.” You whispered, peering up at him with a pout. He kissed your nose cutely with a little eruption of giggles, helping you crack a pouty smile.

“Come on, cutie.” He mumbled before grabbing your hand to guide you slowly into the kitchen. “I could kiss it better?” He prompted, ultimately softening at your lack of response. You were so morgue-ish you hadn’t even registered his words. Letting him tug you blindly as your eyes struggled to stay open.

You could barely register his hands, pressing at your waist. Weakly managing to hold on as he lifted you on top of the counter. Squinting, you could see the clock read 2:23 (am) on the cooker. Ugh. What a night.

You’d feel shit in the morning. But that was nearly impossible to think about with the way Felix was holding you right now. Like a baby. Or a puppy. A little ball of fluff.

He kept some form of contact as he moved around you – a hand to the knee or his hip between your legs. Or even lips against your hairline, using the counter space around you to do something. What he was doing, you were tired to even care.

“You know what used to help me Y/N? When I couldn’t sleep at night?” He prompted gently. You shook your head, pulling back with a weak sway

“Warm milk and honey!” He exclaimed quietly. Too cute for his own good. You smiled, and he pulled you against his chest to kiss your cheek and giggle delicately.

“You want some? Then we could try to sleep? You look like you need some shut-eye, baby. Don’t wanna miss out on that beauty sleep! If you want - we can always sleep in – just call in sick? Your boss is honestly so nice, I'm sure she won’t mind. You say you’re always working through lunch breaks anyway?”

Despite his rambling, you just nodded. Tired eyes once again resting as the hum of the radiator, the vibration of his chest eased your brain. Your head tucked so right underneath his chin. His palms folded behind your lower back.

At some point, Changbin had appeared. Sweeping a thumb over your forehead before kissing you sweetly, cheek resting on Felix’s shoulder.

“I love you, princess. Sorry for waking you.” He had whispered against your lips. “Mmm-I-love-you-too-Binnie~” You managed in one tumbling sentence. In fairness, the touch would've probably led you both somewhere (the bedroom), if you weren’t in such a zombie-like state.

“Sure thing, pretty.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your puffy cheeks before retreating. He let you both be, cold marble beneath your thighs now warmed by your constant body heat. You passed out pretty quickly against Felix’s chest. Cocooned, safe.

What you did miss in your deep, deep sleep was the way they carried you.

Felix physically, to their shared room. Changbin carrying your drinks and fetching your favourite pillow from the hall.

And what you heavenly missed in the night; they made up to you in the morning.

And the next night. And the night after that.

Because even though you occasionally suffered restless nights, you knew one of them would always be there to catch you.

And you’d do the same for them.

P.S. Fuck Chan’s wiring system. Extension cables were the bane of your nightly living. *holds up fingers in a cross and hisses*

well would you look at that: updated 03/OCTOBER/2021

[lune-hime]

Future (Chocobros x f!Reader)

“How did you imagine our future?” 

↞Noctis↠

The blossoms tickled your cheek as you turned to regard the prince. His question was asked with a tone as light as the crisp night air.

“Well, last I checked we were still getting married.” You chuckled, reaching out to idly caress a velvety petal between your fingertips. “It will be a grand wedding, no doubt.”

Noctis hummed contently next to you, your forms spread out in the vast field.

“We can expect nothing less from Specs.” He added. The two of you giggled at the image of a Ignis as a wedding planner.

“What should we do for the honeymoon?” You speculated to the starry sky, gaze getting lost in the endless maze of constellations.

“Sleep.” Noctis replied dreamily. You huffed and shook your head in disbelief, the movement causing petals to fall into your splayed locks.

“How about going fishing?” He proposed. The scowl you gave him caused an amused smile to settle on his smooth features.

“Altissia and a little sleeping and fishing on the side?” He offered in a last ditch attempt to fit his two favorite activities into the plans.

“That sounds more like it.” You sighed happily, letting the coolness of the midnight breeze delicately prickle your skin.

“Y/N.” Noctis cooed, the sound as smooth as the surface of the flowers. You turned back towards him, heart lighting up when you were met with his smile. The euphoria only lasted a moment, however, before the once pleasant chill of the night began giving you goosebumps.

“Promise me something.” He requested in a feigned upbeat tone. You could tell he was trying to mask the sadness in his voice.

You nodded once, watching the corners of his mouth quiver slightly.

“Anything.” You whispered. Noctis’ touch was temperate in contrast to the brisk air as he reached out to run his palm along your jawline.

“Promise me you won’t let me ruin your future."

Every physical aspect of reality had seemed to halt in that moment. You no longer had any sense of time nor of the itchy feeling of the blades of grass against your bare legs. You could no longer see the complex colors of the heavens and the moons seemed like dull street lights in the sky. The cold wind no longer bit at your skin. You felt completely numb to everything except Noctis.

“What?” You choked, suddenly feeling like a rock was lodged into your throat. Noctis’ shook his head, silently telling you not to cry, and flashed you another grin.

“Please do everything we just talked about, either for yourself or with someone who makes you happy.” His voice cracked at the second half of his phrase, but he retained his grin.

“I’m so sorry I’m not able to give you that future, goddess knows I would have given you the entirety of Eos.” His sapphire eyes reflected the dazzling lights in the sky and his gaze was filled with thousands of words he would never be able to say to you.

“Instead of living in my memory, live for my memory, okay?” His eyes softened into a smile of their own as he regarded you like it was the last time he ever would.

Suddenly, you felt the sudden urge to embrace him but before you could throw yourself into his arms, he had disappeared on the wind and you felt yourself being dragged out of the field with a swift tug.

“Rise and shine, Y/N. By the six, we need to find a new expression for that now. Time for another hunt.” Iris sang as she gingerly shook you awake. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you craned your neck to peek out the tent window to regard the dark world that awaited for you. Heaving yourself up from your sleeping back, you rubbed your eyes and cracked your back with a resounding pop before getting to your feet. After slipping on your boots, you gave the jewel around your left ring finger a loving twirl as you walked out to the campsite. Even in the shadows of Eos, the little gem still managed to shine.

“I promise, Noct.”

He was now your past, but you would forever be his future.  

↞Prompto↠

He was the personification of a wilting flower. His once bright eyes were now sunken and bordered by heavy bags. He barely showed his dazzling smile anymore, so you had said goodbye to the little dimple on his cheek weeks ago. Even his once vibrant golden locks had seemed to dim in hue along with the rest of the world. When Eos lost its sunlight, so did you.

You barely registered the question he posed into his lukewarm coffee. Your heart broke when you hear the hopelessness in his voice.

Turning towards him, you reached over only to brush past his arm to grab his camera lying on the diner counter. Prompto looked over to you with slight interest, still slumped weakly in his chair. You flipped through the photos, pressure bubbling behind your eyes at the happiness of your youth. He always kept old pictures on his camera to make sure he never forgot what life used to be like. Photos were physical and more tangible compared to memories, anyway. You blinked back the wetness in your eyes until you found it.

Wordlessly you slid the camera over to him, and he picked it up with gentle hands. Once his gaze met the screen, they starting shaking and the camera began to fall from his grasp. You placed your hands firmly over his, securly holding the device in place.

It was a selfie Prompto took of the two of you at Wiz’s Chocobo Post early on in your journey. Sandwiched in between the two of you was your own Chocobo, Blueberry, his periwinkle feathers bristling in excitement and his beak open in mid chirp. Happiness radiated off you and Prompto, your smiles overtook all the other features of your face and the afternoon sun casted a cheerful glow over the image.

Prompto sucked in a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

“This was our future.” You gestured towards the photo with a sad smile. You removed your hands from his and used them to cup his cheeks, turning him to face you. It was the first time in a while you had gotten him to directly look at you.

“And it still is.” You stated, voice unwavering. As you looked into his eyes, all the memories of your Prompto flashed through your mind like the title credits of a movie. A happy smile found it's way to your lips this time.

“You are forever my sunshine, even more now so that the world has grown dark. And we will find the light again.” You sealed your promise to him with a soft kiss, his arms immediately coming to cup your forearms gently. When you pulled away you saw a few stray tears had begun staining his cheeks but more importantly that dazzling smile that could drive the darkness away with one glance.  

↞Ignis↠

The soft puff of air that left your mouth tickled the corner of Ignis’ lips. Your hesitation caused his heart to sink. He bit his lip nervously, teeth worrying over the chapped skin. He didn't mean to sour the previously sweet and intimate moment but the question had become a chronic worry of his. The various fictional situations of his disability somehow ruining your constantly ran through his mind and were gnawing on his insides.

In the absence of a response, he felt his intrusive thoughts begin to manifest into reality. Before he could turn away, however, your hands on his chest rose to gingerly clasp onto his cheeks, forcing him to face you. Through his clouded vision, he could only see the shadow of your movements but he knew your features were contorted in the way they did when you were trying to articulate a particular feeling.

“I didn't picture it like this, but I know you didn't either.” You almost laughed, bringing his face closer and looking into those milky green orbs. Although seemingly lifeless, they still sparkled with the same vigor the man had expressed before the incident. Brushing his eyelids shut with gentle fingertips, you replaced your touch with a feather light kiss to both of them. When you pulled back, the look of adoration on Ignis’ face made your heart swell. Who knew such a simple thing like a kiss could calm the tidal waves of insecurity that resided within the man.

“But I wouldn't change a thing, because even though the world went to shit, I still have you. And you are still you no matter what happens.”

↞Gladiolus↠

Gladiolus’ question replaced the comfortable silence between the two of you as you maneuvered through the briarwood. The inquiry made you laugh and you almost slipped at the minor distraction, boots squelching against the muddy ground. Gladiolus, reflexes as nimble as ever, gripped your arm thus preventing you from coming into contact with a sizeable bramble bush.

“Well, our lives haven’t exactly been a fairytale now have they?” You replied sarcastically, the both of you chuckling as he lifted up a low hanging vine so you could step under.

“I mean, sure I obviously thought it would be a lot different than this-” You started, abruptly stopping in the middle of the path much to Gladiolus’ confusion.

“But look.” You smiled, pointing to the sky. Gladiolus followed your finger to the thick canopy of the woods. A clearing in the branches allowed for pale rays of sunlight to seep through the dense foliage, the sun warming his skin and causing him to squint. His eyes started to sting from it’s intensity, but it was a welcoming feeling. What wasn’t welcome, however, was the moisture that began collecting in his eyes.

“And we have this” You stated, taking his hand and guiding it to rest on the slight bump of your stomach. He splayed his palm and rubbed soothing circles against the fabric of your shirt. He regarded you with an adoration he never knew he would get to experience.

“Thank you, Noct, for giving us this future.” Gladiolus said to the sky, his voice thick with a menagerie of emotions. The sun had given back their ability to live, but it was the boy behind the sun that had given Eos a second chance to shine.

↞Bonus↠

“Noct for the thousandth time NO we are not spending our honeymoon at the recreational fishing area.” You retorted over your shoulder as you sped walked to keep up with a swift paced Ignis. Why did he have to have such long legs?

Ignis was simultaneously speed firing you questions regarding the shapes and materials of various dining wares and whether or not you wanted hydrangeas or lilies placed in the center of each table as the three of you maneuvered through the elaborate department store. Well, it was more like the two of you with how far back Noctis was straggling behind. While Ignis was like a worker bee buzzing from section to section, the prince on the other hand was taking a leisurely stroll; touching random items here and there but not regarding them with much enthusiasm. You had told him that it was fine if he didn’t come; you were enjoying planning out your wedding enough for the two of you. But Noctis protested, saying that even though it wasn’t his favorite thing to do, he wanted to be there because at the end of the day it was both your wedding.

Ignis abruptly stopped in front of a vast display of fabrics, carefully inspecting each one with fine detail. You patiently waited behind the advisor, giving Noctis some time to catch up.  

“On any other occasion a weekend fishing with you sounds heavenly, but I don’t want to spend our honeymoon smelling like trout and stinky worms.” You stated, grimacing at the thought of your cute outfits smelling like dead fish.

“Which one of these do you fancy would be suitable for the table cloths for the reception?” Ignis inquired, shoving a book of samples into your hands as he slowly moved down the line of textiles. A moment later, Noctis popped up behind you, idly looking at the samples from over your shoulder. Once you noticed his presence, you held them up so he could get a better view.

“Black obviously.” Noctis declared blandly. It was clear to everyone that he wasn’t that into the whole wedding planning process and was more excited for the actual event than having to be involved in everything that went into arranging it. It didn’t help that he had to get up two hours earlier than he normally did either.

“Of course, Noct, but which black.” Ignis exhaled, looking close to short circuiting. The cloth samples were indeed both a dark shade of cobalt, but they differed in pattern and sheen. Taking matters into your own hands you pointed to the silk cloth with intricate silver embroidering.  

“This one is pretty, Iggy.” You chimed in, wanting to keep Ignis’ sanity intact and let Noctis be done with the whole process as soon as possible.

“Couldn’t agree more, Y/N. You always have had the better sense of aesthetics out of the two of you.” Ignis praised before immediately moving onto the next item on the list, leaving behind an annoyed Noctis. You choked back a laugh and turned to face him, poking his puffed cheeks until his pout turned into a smile.

“How about we go to Altissia, with some fishing on the side?” He proposed, grasping your hands and lowering them from his face to intertwine his fingers with yours.

“It’s a deal!” You beamed, bouncing on your heels. The excitement on your features set off sparks in Noctis’ chest.

“If I receive some persuasion, maybe we can throw in a few naps in there too.” You added playfully, swaying your entangled hands from side to side.

“Oh, we can do more than just nap.” Noctis grinned, taking his hands out of yours and fluidly moving to lightly tickle your sides, offering an animated shriek from you. Just as you were getting into a small tickle fight, the buzzing of the store’s intercom system activated.

“Stop dilly-dallying lovebirds and lets get a move on, we still have to go to the caterer’s office after this. I am in isle 24, the silverware section.” Ignis’ unamused voice echoed off every surface of the building.

The two of you exchanged a look of disbelief before breaking out into hysterical laughter.

“Better not keep him waiting.” You patted his chest and broke away from his embrace. Noctis rolled his eyes and placed a kiss to your forehead before the two of you ran hand in hand to your lovely wedding planner.

[collecting-stories]

3am Friend - c. 01 - Topper Thornton

Summary: Topper and y/n have been in a “friends with benefits” relationship since September but the line between friendship and something more are already starting to blur. 

A/N: This is basically four chapters: Fall, Winter, Spring, and Summer. Also it’s going to be a bit of a practice run at writing more smut for me lol. Also it’s smut like, right under the cut lol. 

Sophomore Year Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

What were you doing with your life...

You bit down on your bottom lip to stifle a moan as Topper’s tongue pressed against your clit, the cold tiled wall of the shower stall pressing into your back had your skin erupting in goosebumps, a contrast to the almost burning water that was hitting you. It was futile to bother concealing whatever noises Topper managed to pull out of you, the curtains of the shower stalls did little to shield their occupants from the rest of the communal bathroom, the plastic more often than not creating the perfect outline of whoever decided to use the showers. There would be no mistaking you, pressed against the wall, one leg tossed over Topper’s shoulder, his own figure silhouetted, kneeling in front of you with his hands digging into your hips.  

If anyone did find you there was a 90% chance that they weren’t just going to let you off with a ‘sorry for intruding while some guy eats you out in the shower’ but any concern you actually had about the consequences of your hookup had died the minute Topper had joined you in the shower stall. Technically he’d texted you to come over to his dorm, he lived right off the main campus, close to your building, in a still operational fraternity house. He split a room with some guy who liked to stare but never actually talk when you came around. Yours was not a relationship of anything substantial. You’d hooked up with Topper at a party and exchanged numbers and, two days later, responded to a very obvious booty call at one in the morning.  

“Holy shit!” You cursed, your voice coming out an octave higher than usual, fingers gripping Topper’s short blond hair. You could feel every muscle in your body tense as you tried to keep yourself upright, your other hand grabbing hold of the dial on the faucet in a desperate attempt to not completely fall apart as Topper sucked on your clit. He had moved one of his hands at some point, middle finger now moving rhythmically in and out of your entrance, working you through an orgasm.  

When you came down, your muscles relaxing and you pushing back against the wall to keep yourself steady, leg slipping off Topper’s shoulder, he stood up. He caged you in almost immediately, moving as close as possible in the stall and kissing you, the salty taste of cum still there on his mouth. “That pad really comes in handy,” he teased, referring to the silicone mat you’d bought two weeks earlier to scrub your feet without trying to do a yoga pose in the shower.  

You hummed, “I’ll leave that in my review on Amazon. Great for not bruising your knees.” When he kissed you again you smiled, eyes fluttering closed for a split second. This was the worst part. The part when you ran out of things to say and he would untangle himself from your arms and leave, promise to text you later.  

It was the thing that your roommate had warned you about in the beginning that you had ignored.  

“That’s like, not even friends with benefits though.” She had admonished when you told her for the first time that you had started this bizarre relationship with Topper. “I mean, you’re literally having casual sex with some rando guy that you hooked up with at a party. At a frat party. Do you even fucking know anything about him?”

“I know his name,” you had replied, rummaging through your closet to find something to wear to class, “and his phone number so I can booty call him.”

“Brilliant.” She snapped, “he could be some fucking weirdo axe murderer preying on college girls.”  

You rolled your eyes, “he’s the same age as us.” You had never been one for casual sex in your life until this point and you weren’t sure why it seemed enticing now but you wanted to branch out a little. You’d gotten your first boyfriend in ninth and you’d stuck with him until August of this, your sophomore year of college. He broke up with you, claiming the distance between your school and his was too much for him to deal with.  

It was your roommate that had dragged you to the party at the fraternity house, claiming that it would get your mood up after the guy you’d been with for the last five years decided he couldn’t do the 2 hour commute between your school and his. Three shots of tequila later and the blond you couldn’t take your eyes off of asking if you wanted to ‘go somewhere quiet’ were all the motivation you needed to put the past behind you and stop groveling over a guy who wasn’t even there.  

Still, the fact remained, even now as Topper put his hands on your hips, looking at you through the mirror and kissing the back of your head, you knew that casual sex was not your forte. Not simply because you had never done it before but because you found yourself craving those small, just after when the bubble had broken yet and there was still some lingering affection, moments as much as you craved the sex. But you had both agreed, casual. Something to take your mind off school for a few hours, a stress relief. For you it was more than that. You’d never been the most confident when it came to sex or your body, all that self-love/self-care crap was wasted on you and your gnawing insecurities. Having casual sex was like constantly challenging yourself to be your most exposed and most intimate with someone who was still relatively a stranger to you.  

“You know I think it was technically supposed to be my turn,” you mentioned, running the wide-toothed comb through your hair. You should’ve detangled in the shower except that wasn’t really top priority. What would you even say, ‘oh, would you mind not eating me out for a second so I can brush my hair’…you’d live with the awkward waves that dried in.  

“I thought we switched.” Topper shrugged, pulling his sweatpants back on. His shirt went over his head and you involuntarily pouted at the mirror, there went the view.  

“No, I said…this doesn’t technically count.” You replied, referring to the party three nights earlier and the head you’d given to avoid having actual sex on your period. You were at the tail end and you’d contemplated not going to the frat house at all but changed your mind at the last moment.  

“Hey, if you’re offering, I’m not gonna turn you down.” He joked.  

You turned to look at him, the mirror not sufficing as you stuck your tongue out playfully. “I have a test tomorrow, I have to study.”  

“Come over, you can study in my room. We’ll hang out.”  

“We are incapable of hanging out Topper.” You replied, grabbing your shower caddy and heading for the door. He walked right out after you, both of you ignoring the rather appreciative stare of one of the other girls on your floor.  

“Not true,” he’d suffered a nasty break-up in high school that he gave no more background to other than to say she had cheated on him extensively. Casual seemed to be the best he could allow himself to do though you weren’t sleeping with anyone else and, as far as you knew, neither was he.  

Your roommate looked up from her desk, rolling her eyes at the sight of Topper following you into your dorm. In the beginning of September, when this first started, it felt like you only ever disappeared at night. You saw Topper when he texted you and you might smile in the café but you never actively sought each other out. Now it was creeping toward November though, with Halloween right around the corner, and Topper felt like an accessory. He was always right there wherever you were, not that you were complaining. To anyone on the outside you looked like a couple but you both maintained the friends with benefits story.  

“Oh look who it is.” Almost two whole months of him and your roommate still greeted Topper with a disdainful glare. She was fervent in her belief that the guy you thought was damn near perfect (if only he’d actually date you) was hiding some deep-seated flaw.  

“Hey G,” Topper greeted, taking a seat on your bed as if he couldn’t tell just how annoyed your roommate was.  

-

Geena and you had been thrown together after enduring a freshman year from hell. Her roommate from the year prior had been awful, like caging yourself in with some 00’s mean girl who only found satisfaction in watching you suffer. Your own freshman roommate had been neurotic about the dorm and constantly scrutinized whether your cleaning methods were sufficient. Geena was a blessing, you got along well, hung out all the time, had become fast friends in the short time since the beginning of the semester. Topper was the only thing you didn’t agree on. She thought it was unhealthy, that it would only lead to heartbreak.  

“You can’t have casual sex with a guy for three years…people already think you’re dating. Some girl I don’t even know asked me if I could get her into a Phi Sig party next week cause my roomie is dating one of the guys.” There was a new reason almost daily with Geena, like she tore away a new page on the calendar and it offered up cons to your relationship with Topper in lieu of a word for the day.  

“I can ask for her.”  

“Oh my god, that is not the point.” She snapped.  

You sighed, “I don’t really care if people think we’re dating.”

“Why?” She asked the question so smugly you already knew where she was going with this. And you knew why it didn’t bother you that people thought you were dating, why you sometimes even fanned that flame.  

“G-“

“No, tell me why? People usually keep that shit quiet so they can hook-up with other people too. So why don’t you care?”  

“Because if people think we’re dating…they won’t try to date him.” You shrugged, practically mumbling the last part. You hated that she knew that off the bat, that she could tell that you liked him so much in such a short span of time. And you knew she had a point to all her antagonizing. You had been in too deep since two weeks into September when he told you that you looked pretty in something your ex always said made you look fat.  

-

You held the seam of your towel shut as you rummaged through the set of plastic drawers underneath your bed. Geena had done the bed on risers thing for optimal storage and you had followed along, semi grateful for the added space since both of you seemed inclined to transport your entire bedroom with you. Topper’s foot nudged your side as you got closer to him and you looked up, matching his smile when you caught him staring at you. You were sure Geena was sitting behind you rolling her eyes.  

“Guess I’ll go grab something to eat.” She announced, as if your very presence had worn her down.  

“I’m just getting changed, I think we’re heading over to Topper’s.” You replied, looking back over your shoulder at her.  

Geena scrunched her nose and stood up anyway, “still would rather not be here while you got dressed so I don’t have to pretend like I can’t see this one leering at you.” She shot Topper a look of contempt as she passed. If it was real, if he asked you out and he was really, actually, your boyfriend, Geena was positive she’d have no problems with him. He seemed like alright and he certainly made you happier and more confident than she’d seen you in the beginning of the year. But she hated the thought of you getting hurt and didn’t want to be just sitting on the sidelines watching it happen.

“I don’t leer.” He joked, turning back to you once she was out the door, “I don’t leer.”

You didn’t answer, instead grabbing your underwear out of the top drawer and pulling them on once the door was shut. The first time you had ever gotten dressed with Topper around you’d made sure that you were obscured from view, still too bashful and self-conscious of the way that you looked without clothes on. There was still that split second moment when you doubted yourself, when you thought about maneuvering your towel to hide your body from view, as if after two months Topper might suddenly look at you and decide he didn’t like the softness of your stomach or the width of your hips or any other imperfection you could find.  

You pushed through the voice though, dropping your towel and getting dressed. When you reached for the bralette your tossed on the bed beside him you realized he was looking at you. “G might have a point, maybe I should turn around.” You teased, his eyes snapping up to meet yours.  

“I’m admiring the view.” Topper replied, not at all embarrassed at being caught.  

You rolled your eyes, pulling your bralette on and adjusting your boobs until it sat right. “I don’t even know why I’m putting this on,” you mentioned, grabbing his sweatshirt to pull on over it, “I should just stop wearing underwear to your room and then I won’t ever lose it.”  

“You lose stuff? Whose wearing my hoodie right now?” He asked, grabbing the edge of the hood to pull you closer to him.  

“Your room has swallowed three of my bras...the nice ones too. Or Will like, took them.” You said.  

If there was some kind of formal set of rules that you and Topper had ever thought to draft, kissing outside of actually having sex with each other should have qualified as a major no. But nothing of the sort had ever been discussed and now, Topper leaned over, stealing a quick kiss before he got off your bed. Maybe now didn’t count as a ‘just friends’ moment though since technically you were heading back to his room, presumably to have sex. To finish what he’d started when he showed up seconds before you got a shower.  

“What would Will need your bras for?”

“To masturbate over? Who knows...all I’m saying is, I wear bras to your room, I never seem to leave with them.” You replied.  

“I promise I will find all your missing bras today, okay?” He grabbed your lanyard off the hook, keys and wallet all in one place, pulling the door open for you. “Wanna grab pizza later?”  

You chewed on your bottom lip, waiting a beat to answer him. Grabbing pizza meant, inevitably, hanging out after. Becoming friends was unavoidable, there was no way that either of you could have navigated sleeping together without some sort of relationship forming. So far it was only friendship, or at least that was all either of you were willing to let it be. Anything more than that meant an actual romantic relationship forming, something you wanted but were determined not to let yourself even entertain the idea of.  

“Fine but not from that place by Barnaby's.” You replied, pushing the door open and stepping out into the quad with him. The local bar was always teeming with college students and the last thing you wanted was someone recognizing Topper, because everyone always seemed to recognize Topper, and invite the two of you in.  

“We’ll just get it delivered.” He shrugged.  

The first time you met Topper, enough to tequila to not make you totally embarrassed as you danced with Geena in the main room of the Phi Sig frat house, you had laughed when he told you his name. It was a combination of the heels you borrowed from another girl on your floor and the alcohol that had you losing your footing, catching yourself in time not to smash your whole body into a coffee table, and landing on the couch beside Topper. He was taking a sip of beer and looked relatively startled when some almost drunk girl fell into the spot next to him.  

“Sorry!” You’d shouted over the bass as you tried to undo the straps of the heels that you were sure were also guilty of twisting your ankle.  

When he introduced himself two sentences later, “I’m Topper” you couldn’t resist a good dad-joke and smiled at him, “but I hardly know her!”

“Amazing.” He had been less amused by the joke than you were though he didn’t really seem bothered by it, at least not bothered enough to move on because he stayed on the couch for three more turns of the conversation before asking if you wanted to talk elsewhere. You were sober enough to know exactly what he meant and obliged because you were still kinda pissed at your ex and you didn’t want this year to pass the same as last year had, with nothing but school work to show as a passing of time.  

At least you’d have a good story to tell.  

Highschool you had a healthy apprehension of frat houses and the people who lived in them. You’d seen enough episodes of CSI, Law and Order, Veronica Mars, and any other crime show that existed in the early 00’s to know that frat houses were breeding grounds for terrible things. Your parents had even attempted to sway you from going to your first-choice college simply because the greeks still existed on campus. You could only imagine what they’d think now, knowing that you had spent more time in Topper’s room than you had in your own in the last month at least.  

Frat houses might’ve been sordid in your mind but so far, your reality of this one was exactly what it looked like on the surface, a bunch of guys living together with limited supervision. You still stuck to Topper whenever you were inside but you’d never had a problem with anyone in there and you rightly assumed that most of them just figured you were his girlfriend.  

“Will told me he wants that TA position next year, with Prof Berkley.” You mentioned, flopping back onto Topper’s bed and tilting your head so you could look over to the empty other side of the room that belonged to his roommate. Aside from staring at you too much and possibly stealing your bras, you still had a hunch that Topper was just messing with you and had them stashed away somewhere, Will was alright. You were both in the same area of study, pre-law, and he had told you days earlier that he was gunning for the same TA position with your advisor as you were.  

“I don’t know anything about it.” Topper replied, kicking his slides off and climbing onto his bed with you. The countdown in your head started now, hopefully soon you would be naked.  

“Yes, you do because I literally told you about it at breakfast.” You pointed out. He’d texted you that morning to get coffee with him and you ignored Geena when she told you that sex-friends don’t get coffee together. “I said I was applying for the TA spot because it’s a massive opportunity.”  

“Sounds like something I don’t have an opinion on.” He said, rolling over so that he could kiss you. “Enough chit-chat.”

“You’ve got a one-track mind Thornton.” You joked, moving your arms above your head as he pulled his sweatshirt off of you.  

“Well can I interest you in getting on that track with me?” He replied, lips brushing over your neck as he spoke. You hadn’t bothered to put on any makeup before you left your dorm, you hadn’t even bothered to dry your hair all the way. But who were you to worry about things like that when Topper was pushing your bralette up over your head.  

You jerked slightly, wriggling around on the bed when the fabric got caught half way up your arms, binding them above your head and covering your face, Topper taking advantage of the moment and sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around it as you arched your back into him. “Topper!” You whined.  

He hummed, pulling away from you to take the bralette the rest of the way off and tossing it off the bed, “sorry, couldn’t resist.” He said, smiling at you as if he truly couldn’t resist. The thought made butterflies erupt in your stomach.  

You didn’t let yourself have the moment though, pulling him in for a kiss the moment he had untangled you, hand on the back of his neck as you ran your tongue against his bottom lip, biting gently as you pulled away. Topper held himself up on one elbow, his other hand pushing passed your sweatpants.  

“Always right down to business,” you teased.  

“What do you want me to take you out first?” He was joking, you knew that, but the way he said almost sounded like he truly would take you out if you wanted him to. But then what would this be, if you had dinner before you hooked up.

“Some foreplay would be nice.” You kept the conversation light, the way you always did, and he laughed.  

“I thought the shower was foreplay.”  

You would’ve answered, thought of something witty to make him laugh again, but he had pushed your underwear to the side, fingers pushing passed your folds to brush your clit. He made the same satisfied hum that he always did when he realized that you were wet, like a quiet pat on the back. His middle finger circled your clit, a barely there shudder of nerves setting off in your stomach as you moaned.  

“I was supposed to,” you managed as he shifted further down the bed and you realized what he was doing.  

“We have plenty of time.” He promised, pressing a kiss to your stomach.  

Topper hadn’t seriously dated anyone since his break-up with Sarah. Kelce told him constantly that he was putting too much on that relationship, as if it was the holy grail by which to rate every other relationship that he had. And maybe he was allowing himself to be too scorned by something that lasted little more than a summer but he couldn’t help it. Topper was nothing if not a hopeless romantic and that had felt like such an idealistic time in his life until it all inevitably crashed around him.  

He tried casual hook-ups before you. A few girls from high school that he knew that made it practically impossible for the casual to still exist alongside the hook-up. College was easier but freshman year had been mostly dedicated to rushing the fraternity that his dad and grandfather and great grandfather had all rushed before him. Then he met you at a party in the beginning of sophomore year and he told himself it was casual but he knew that this was far from it.  

You weren’t anything like Sarah and maybe he had done that on purpose. Specifically slept with someone that didn’t remind him of anyone back home as some way to separate himself from that part of his life. To fully embody the frat boy, jock, life he was trying to live through. He figured it would just be a onetime thing and then maybe a sometime thing but now it was most definitely an all the time thing. Kelce told him that he should just ask you out but Topper felt like he was in too deep already.  

This was supposed to be strictly friends with benefits, if he crossed that line and you said no he would be crushed.  

“Topper,” you moaned, bringing him back to the moment. You shuddered as he pulled his fingers out of you, placing a kiss just below your belly button. When you tugged at the short blond hairs at the back of his head he shifted, letting you lead him back up so that you could kiss him.  

You had told him specifically that it was your turn, as if he really cared about taking turns at all. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it? You don’t have some fussy girlfriend bitching about giving you head.” Rafe’s colourful comments about the situation had been largely ignored but Topper knew, less crudely, he was right. The whole reason the two of you had started this was for sex of any kind and you had been the one to suggest taking turns.  

“My ex wasn’t very forthcoming with praise. He always told me I was kinda shitty at sucking dick so, maybe it’d be kinda nice to practice.” It’s been a colourful sentiment, one you had felt oddly comfortable sharing with Topper when the two of you first sat in his room discussing the arrangement.  

And while he wholeheartedly disagreed with your ex-boyfriend, Topper just liked being the one to give. He liked that moment when everything overwhelmed you enough that you let go and stopped worrying about if you looked attractive in a certain position or if your thighs were too big or if you had any unwanted rolls. That split second between overthinking and not thinking at all was powerful and Topper liked being the one who caused it. He liked the way you looked in his bed, biting your bottom lip to keep quiet so other guys in the house didn’t hear you. The way your hair tangled just from laying on your back. He could list a million things, every one more obscure, less noticeable, than the last because he felt like when you were around all he could do was pay attention.  

“Hey, quit daydreaming about Hailey Bieber-“ you teased as Topper’s movements slowed down, his lips brushing languidly against your collar like he was in some lethargic trance.  

He squeezed your side, baring his teeth to nip at your neck, scraping them across your skin and making you laugh as you turned your head towards his. That lazy smile you got was there, eyes hooded as you watched him, the moment passed and he leaned in to kiss you again. When he broke away it was only to grab a condom from the box on his dresser.  

Topper pushed your legs apart, settling between them. He slipped one hand beneath your back, guiding it into an arch to bring your chest closer to him, mouth finding one of your breasts. His tongue pressed against your nipple, swirling around it as you dug your nails in the sheets beneath you. He looked up at you, eyes hooded, as he pushed you back down against the bed. “God,” he breathed out, “you’re so fucking gorgeous.”  

You grabbed the back of Topper’s neck, pulling him into a kiss, slower than the ones before, more tender. Your other hand moved down between your bodies, finding his dick, enjoying the way he moaned against your mouth as you guided him in. Despite the orgasm he’d given you in the shower you still felt that stretch as he pushed in, kissing across your jaw and sucking a bruise into the space just behind your ear.  

You would never tell Geena but somewhere between quick hook-ups and longer nights together your ‘just casual sex’ had turned into something else, something far more meaningful though neither of you would acknowledge it.  

Instead you just held onto him, nails scratching a trail down his back as he found a rhythm, Instead, you just held onto him, nails scratching a trail down his back as he found a rhythm, hips snapping against yours. The sound of your panting breath and his grunts filled the room; you bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning when Topper’s fingers dipped passed your folds to massage your clit.  

“Oh god, Topper,” you whined, turning your face enough to press your cheek into Topper’s pillow, the faint smell of his cologne hitting your nose. You breathed in, always a fan of the subtle musk.  

“Does that feel good baby?” His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, words barely registering over the sensation of him. You opened your legs a little further, lifting your knee and hooking your leg over his back. The angle seemed to give more depth and his movements picked up speed. His fingers circled your clit faster as he continued to whisper words of encouragement to you. A quiet “come on baby, I know you’re close”.  

“Are you?”  

His comment had seemingly brought you just out of the haze enough to ask him if he was close. You knew you were, he knew you were, and you wanted him to be there too, just on that edge with you. As he pulled out you clenched around him and when he pushed back in it felt deeper than before, that all too familiar groan of satisfaction leaving his lips as you guided him back into a kiss. He didn’t answer your question, instead taking the opportunity to kiss you, tongue working it’s way into your mouth and dragging across your teeth. You found your grip on his hair, tugging hard enough that he jerked his hips in retaliation, hitting so deep you felt yourself go off that edge, his motion become erratic as he followed, smoothing your scream with another kiss, biting your bottom lip as he pulled away.  

There was always a moment of frenzy in the beginning when you first started hooking up. You would rush to grab your clothes, partially because you felt the need to leave when the act was done and partially because you didn’t want him to linger too long on your body. You were a temporary fix for a problem he didn’t feel like dealing with on his own, he wasn’t responsible for making you feel good about yourself. He wasn’t your boyfriend, he wasn’t obligated to tell you that you were beautiful or lavish any compliment onto you at all, not that your ex had ever been willing to either. You didn’t stay, for the first few weeks you trudged back across the lawn from the frat house, back to the dorms, and snuck in. But things had changed by mid October and what was once a booty call at one in the morning when he couldn’t sleep was now you going over for pizza and a study session that turned into an afternoon spent in his bed.  

“What time is Will back?” You asked, sitting up as Topper came back into the room with two water bottles. There was still that awkward moment just after sex, as if neither of you knew how to leave behind the intimacy of the act and return to normal life. Like you were both waiting for the other to admit that maybe just friends wasn’t really what you wanted at all. So he disappeared downstairs to get water and you pulled your underwear and his sweatshirt back on, leaving the bra somewhere on the floor.  

The empty other side of the room served as a poignant reminder that time alone was only ever temporary.  

“Not sure,” he shrugged, “he’s been talking about some girl on campus that he’s dating. Won’t reveal her name apparently, he’s convinced Fitz will try to fuck with them if he finds out.” His fraternity brothers were not the same as hanging out with Kelce and Rafe every day but they weren’t the worst substitutes for entertainment. Fitz was the head of the house, a senior whose greatest claim to fame was being party to a wildly controversial radio-show that amounted to nothing more than some white guys imitating Rush Limbaugh and the Douche from Parks & Rec. He said dumb shit just to piss people off and had an unappreciated proclivity for trying to ruin any relationship one of his brothers found themselves in.  

Will was always an easy target for him though he’d set his sights on you a few times, assuming like others did, that you and Topper were dating. You had never mentioned it to Topper, Fitz was gross and you were looking forward to his inevitable graduation at the end of May.  

“Fitz totally would,” you replied. Last year you existed on no one’s radar. You hadn’t so much as gotten an offer to go out on a date with someone and yet this year, all because of Topper, you were sure, it felt like everyone in his circle seemed to pay attention to you in some way. “He told me he prank called Will’s mom two weeks ago pretending to be the on campus nurse for a bit on his radio show.”  

Topper looked up from his phone and the pizza he was ordering, frown etched onto his features. “When did you talk to Fitz?”  

“His econ class is right down the hall from my 12:30 poly sci class…he always ‘walks with me across campus’ in case I get mugged apparently.” You laughed, “I think he just does it cause he knows we hang out.”  

“I didn’t know he was talking to you.”  

You shrugged, Fitz had been goading you for weeks but it wasn’t anything that felt harmful. Just some mind-numbingly dumb conversation about parties and girls and his radio show and how hot he apparently thought you were. “It’s not a big deal, if he was bothering me I probably would’ve said something.”  

“Right,” Topper still looked miffed despite having no reason to be. You weren’t interested in Fitz and, even if you were, what say did he have over it. That old familiar feeling crept in though, the one he recognised as the same one that the plagued him after Wheezie told him that Sarah had cheated on the boyfriend before him only to find out that she had cheated on him with John B. When he looked over you were pouting at him, “what?”

“Your room is so cold.” You replied, pulling the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands as if that was an indication of the frigid temperature. The old house lacked insulation in most of the rooms, Topper’s being one of them.  

He rolled his eyes, climbing back into bed with you, the momentary worry subsiding. You weren’t his girlfriend but in that moment, as he pulled the blankets around the two of you, guiding you back down to lay with him under the covers, he could have fooled even himself about the relationship. He held his arm out in front of both of you so that you could see his phone and the menu for the pizza place.  

“I’ve been really in the mood for pepperoni.” You mused, not bothering to look at the screen and opting instead to tuck your face into his bare collar. Your hand slipped down from his chest and Topper grabbed your wrist before you could make it to his briefs.  

“Pizza first,” he said, “you’re already getting sleepy.”  

“It’s cause I’m cold.” You insisted.  

He turned to place a kiss on your forehead, “pizza.” He reminded you again.  

-

Halloween weekend creeped up and, before you knew it, Phi Sig was decorated and advertising a Halloween haunted house party for everyone on campus. Geena was going home on the actual night of to trick or treat with her sister but she agreed to go to the party with you that weekend. She loved a good party and any excuse to dress up.  

When you weren’t spending time with Topper, and sometimes when you were because he had a tendency to hang out just to hang out (the friends side of the benefit), you and Geena marathoned episodes of Supernatural. And it was at  her coaxing that your Halloween costume became an homage to the show and your favorite character. A semi-loosely interpreted Dean Winchester, complete with a flannel over your black tank top and the mark of Cain crafted by Geena using her best fx makeup skills. You wore cut-off jean shorts with your hiking boots, showing off the legs that you were usually self-conscious about. Geena was Cas, sticking a little closer to the actual costume though she made a few alterations.  

“I gotta ask…” Fitz said, coming up to the two of you the moment you were in the door, as if he was the greeting committee.  

“I’m Dean Winchester.” You explained, “G’s Cas.”  

“You dressed like a guy for Halloween?” Fitz clarified. “I was hoping for something that showed a little more…” he made a motion with his hands to indicate that the little more he wanted to see were your boobs.  

“I have the obligatory sexy cat costume but that’s…” you looked passed Fitz’s shoulder, eyes landing on Topper down the hall chatting with some friends, a smile instantly lighting up your face, “that’s for his eyes only.”  

Fitz looked behind him, catching sight of his frat brother and rolling his eyes before turning back to you, “yeah well, if Thornton’s not appreciative then you know where to find me.”  

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you laughed, stepping around him. Geena had broken off already, heading for the keg that had been set up in the corner. When you started down the hall Fitz found someone else to antagonise, leaving you to vie for Topper’s attention, not that it took you much. Just walking up had him breaking his concentration to look at you, the smile automatic. “Hey,” you greeted as he hugged you, keeping his arm around your waist as he brought you into the conversation.  

“Hey, you look great.” He praised, offering you some of his beer. Topper’s costume was best described as JFK yachting in Hyannis. He looked like a preppy New England white boy and you suspected it was all clothing he already owned thrown together differently. There was always that slight air of prep to him though college and a growing collection of hoodies were slowly eating away at that.  

“Thanks, I feel a little out of place,” you joked, noting a girl down the hall that was wearing a mock up of Amanda Seyfried’s bunny costume from Mean Girls. “Though I do have a costume change saved for later.”  

“Oh yeah,” that smile was a full blown mischievous grin and you wondered for a split-second how down he would be to ditch the whole party and take you to his room. “Does it involve these clothes on my floor?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” You teased.  

You had been stressing over the purchase of a costume that could’ve been more accurately described as lingerie since it arrived at your dorm a week earlier. Did friends with benefits buy lingerie sets specifically for showing off? You weren’t sure where that one fell on the line but you were positive you were crossing into territory that was reserved for girlfriends. But even with those doubts, just the thought of Topper seeing you in something that was just for him to see you in somehow made you unable to pass up the opportunity.  

Topper groaned, pulling you closer to him so that he could press his forehead into your neck, “baby,” his voice sounded almost close to whining and you ran a hand through his hair. He nipped at your exposed collar before lifting his head again to look at you. “How long am I supposed to wait?”  

“One track mind, I’ve said it before…I’ll say it again.” You laughed, trying not to think about the way this felt so much like a relationship, pulling away from him but taking his hand, “come on, I wanna get a drink.”  

He followed you to the makeshift bar set up by the keg, refilling his beer while you ladled a generous helping of jungle juice into your cup, trying to fish as many sour patch kids as you could to add to it. You were drinking mostly to calm the nerves that were bubbling up. Geena would be gone Halloween night and the whole next day because she didn’t have classes and you were thinking of inviting Topper to stay over. Regardless of the hour or the amount of time you spent together afterward, the post-coital bliss always came to an end and one of you always left the other. Even if you got breakfast the next day there was a stretch of time that existed between the night before and the morning after where you were nothing to each other but bodies.  

“So, Geena’s going home on Halloween, I thought maybe you could come over,” you suggested. That part was a given.  

Topper looked almost confused that you were asking, “yeah, figured we’d end up hanging out anyway.” He replied.  

“Well…” you worried your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, “I was thinking, she won’t be back til the next day…like, at night, and I thought, maybe you’d wanna stay over.”  

No. There was a voice in the back of his head, the logical one who knew that crossing the most obvious line, the one where he stayed and you woke up together, was a turning point that he wouldn’t be able to come back from. It was bad enough that he had let this become something that bordered on being a relationship to anyone looking in on it, but letting himself pretend like it was…he wasn’t sure he could come back from that when this all ended.  

“Yeah,” he said, quieting the logical side of his brain, “as long as you wear this ‘something else’ for the duration of my stay.” It might be a bad idea but who was he kidding, he was so far gone he’d accidentally referred to you as his girlfriend when he was on the phone with his mom just the day before.  

That smile returned to your face, the one that was so sly yet excitable at the same time, the perfect juxtaposition of innocence and deviousness, “Well, I was gonna wear nothing but-“  

“Nothing works for me.” Topper replied, using his free hand to hook his fingers through your front belt loop and pulling you toward him so that he could kiss you. Definitely not friends with benefits, but you’d both keep pretending until one of you cracked.  

-

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[wickedgamesoyaoya]

Freudian projection is characterized by some as a defence mechanism employed by those who are struggling to accept difficult emotions or truths. Rather than admit or addressing the feelings, the emotions are projected onto someone else. Perhaps that is why Osamu Miya was particularly willing to accept your unfaithfulness. After engaging with his friends and brother in the group chat, the Onigiri Miya owner’s lack of satisfaction in the answers compelled him to further research the matters discussed. There were threads on social media of what conspired earlier that day. Some accounts were evidently false while others held a candor that could not be falsified. The more information he consumed, the lower his heart sunk until it had reached the pit of his stomach, soon to be tormented by the acids inside.

Was it solely a coincidence that the description provided in most accounts on Bokuto’s mystery girlfriend fitted you perfectly? Of course, it was not. The MSBY Ace admitted to being in your company for the evening. Hell, the proof was slathered across social media. There was no shame.

But why label yourself as his girlfriend publicly? It was obvious that he would learn about it sooner or later. 

Some spectators had posted to elucidate that the mystery girlfriend arrived only to save the MSBY player from hoards of fangirls who were bordering on harassment. So, did you do it to save him? You were never one to abandon your friends, despite the situation.

“She loves you, idiot.” He mumbled the reminder to himself in a scold. It was stupid to believe that you would cheat on him with his friend. He knew you loved him.

Of course he knew it. You loved him, and only him.

Yet a little voice in his head questioned whether his recent neglect had forced you into the arms of another. But the Ace was the last person he expected you to turn to. Your relationship with Iwaizumi, or even Oikawa held far more potential to evolve into something romantic. Ache spread across his chest like a wildfire at the mere thought of you with someone else.

The tiny noise of the lock clicking to an open hauled his attention from the nightmares projecting inside of his head back to the living room apartment. Removing the cap from his head, he attempted to burn the insecurity embedded in his thoughts as he proceeded to greet you at the front door. A weak smile twitched at the ends of his mouth disguising the flood of emotions he was drowning in.

“Oh, hi there. I didn’t expect to see you waiting for me like a little kitten.” A titter expelled from your lips as you stepped into the apartment, with the food containers held snugly against your stomach. Intoxicated by the excitement of finally spending some quality time with your fiancé, you were unable to detect the hints of pain scattered across his visage. “Here, you can start eating. I’m just gonna change into something else.” The plastic bag containing layers of food was offered out to the black-haired male, who was losing to the battle of insecurity waged against his mind. 

“Okay.” As he accepted the bag, his fingers brushed against yours, drawing his attention subconsciously to your hands. He was not actively searching for confirmation of your unfaithfulness. He certain was not… because you loved him. 

But if you loved him, and only him… Why was the ring symbolizing your love no longer snug against your finger?

The threads woven neatly together to disguise his emotions slowly loosened until all that remained were shrivelled pieces, serving no purpose. But you were already making your way to the bedroom, unaware of the torment that your carelessness had bestowed upon him.

Did you want him to suffer? Was that it? Were you seeking attention? Was this all a revenge ploy after what occurred with Ichika? Did Atsumu tell you something?

Truthfully, he would prefer that than knowing you loved someone else. You could seek all the revenge in the world, as long as you remained with him. He would accept it willingly.

But first he had to know – did you still love him?

Once the food containers were placed onto the table, he immediately began walking towards the bedroom, his quest for answers outweighed his appetite.  

Inside of the bedroom you were sat at the vanity, attempting to unhook the necklace from around your neck, but upon seeing your fiancé’s reflection, the hook was released from your fingers. The slightest hint of tears could be traced at the bottom of his eyelids, and with his greyish irises, it resembled a storm seconds from brewing. 

“Samu?” Instinctively you rose from the chair, quickly removing the space between you two before taking his hands in yours. His eyes landed on your intertwined fingers praying he was incorrect in his observations earlier. But alas there was no ring. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you love me?” The inquiry was voiced dejectedly as he searched your face for an answer. Generally, you were an open book with your emotions. Whether it was love or hatred, each emotion would alter your features in a noticeable manner. Right now, concern prompted little wrinkles to form at the edges of your eyes. But with the question registering upon your ears, disbelief brought your eyebrows to narrow.

“Oh god. That’s what has your panties twisted? I thought it was serious. You know that I love you, gremlin. Sorry to break it to you, but you’re mine forever now.” Irritation gnawed at your heart – how could he question your love? Was he really in any position to do so?

“Where’s your ring, y/n?” The words were whispered softly, barely overpowering the sounds stemming from the television in the other room.

“My ring?” A quizzical expression contorted your features, instinctively your gaze travelled from your left hand to the purse located on the vanity. “Right, it’s in my purse. I took it off for the shoot, but I guess I forgot to put it back on. Give me a second, I’ll go get it.” To retrieve the handbag his hands first had to be released, but to Osamu the loss of physical contact resembled a physical blow. Weakly he caught your shirt, forcibly halting your movements.

“Did you tell everyone that you’re Bokuto’s girlfriend?” Relinquishing the control he was struggling to maintain allowed his insecurity direct access to his vocal cords. There was no stopping him now.

“What? Well… Yeah but …” 

“Why?” His voice sliced through yours, despite the fact it was quite clear that you were seconds from explaining yourself anyway. The unexpected interrogation was beginning to damage the limited patience you had. Drained from the activities of the day, it was only natural that you were not mentally capable to handle the additional stress. Not when it stemmed from misguided assumptions.

“Because he was being harassed by some crazies, so I had to save him!” There was much more you desired to add, harsher sentiments but to silence your rage, you bit the insides of your cheeks until they were raw.

Osamu paused evaluating your answer, your version of events aligned with the spectators. As he thought, you took it upon yourself once more to save a friend. So why was he still taunted by the voice in his head?

“Is it true?” He instantly regretted it, seeing how it sent any restraint you mustered to wither away.

“What the fuck, Samu. Are you kidding me right now? I’m not cheating on you!” Hurt laced with rage shimmered in your y/e/c irises. Instantly you swatted at the hand confining you to him. Hearing the sincerity laced in your declarations awoke him from his fever dream.

You wouldn’t lie to him. No. He was the one lying to you. He was the idiot.

“I can’t believe it. You’re the one who is always missing. You are the one who hasn’t barely looked at me for months. You are the one who ditches our plans. But you’re accusing me? I can’t…” Desperate to focus on anything but him, you ripped your gaze from him, subconsciously searching for an escape from the situation. “I… I’m gonna stay at Akari’s tonight. I can’t do this. There is only so much I can take.” The ache weaving into your bloodstream would not stop you from leaving. The weight of his words poisoned the usually welcoming atmosphere of the apartment. It no longer felt like home. But if you were being honest, it hadn’t felt like home in a while.

Osamu thrusted a palm against his face, panic surging from his heart into his muscles. They had all warned him, and somehow, he still managed to dig his own grave.

“No please… Y/n. I’m sorry,” The little cracks in his voice constrained your movements, bringing your hands to lower from the dresser containing your clothes. “I’m just stressed, and I said some stupid shit. I know you love me, and if there’s anyone who needs to explain it’s me,” He knew his words alone would equate to a band-aid on an open wound, and so he slowly proceeded in your direction, his fingers twitching before he rested them lightly on your hips, guiding your back to align with his chest. “Don’t go. Please.” His whispered pleads were followed by a gentle kiss that was applied to the area behind your ear. The gesture ignited a fire in your chest, one that began melting away the rage that was clouding you.

“Listen to me,” With an intake of breath for courage, you adjusted yourself to face him. “I’ll be anything you need me to be, but I will not be your punching bag. You don’t get to question me when it’s my heart on the line.” Your heavy eyelashes fluttered up at him as you squinted just a tad, challenging him to even try to dispute your words.

But he knew better by now.

“I know. I’m sorry. Please.” Slipping an arm around your waist, your frame was ushered to his as a small kiss was placed against your lips. “I don’t need you to be anything but my wife.” His response prompted your heart to complete a flip, and for once you hated yourself for loving him more than life itself.

But when his mouth returned to yours, urging you to forget the accusations that were made against your character – your loyalty, you did. At least for the night.

Let’s do it again, shall we -  Freudian projection

Masterlist - Previous - Next

A/N: if this hurt just wait lol. 

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[smediumsmeatbae]

Boyfriends and Bath Bombs

PAIRINGS: Steve Rogers × Reader SUMMARY: Steve helps out a reader with a bath after she gets hurt on a mission.  WORDS: 1,148 WARNINGS: mention of blood and guns. Slight angst. Light swearing. Mostly just fluffy Steve though.  A/N: This is my first fic for Steve! I'm glad I'm finally able to show my favorite super soldier some love.  This is also my first submission for the #shamelesshoesforchris challenge by @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18. The prompt that I'm using is: "I don't deserve you." I'm so excited to be doing this and cannot wait to read more submissions by everyone. I've already read some incredible works. ❤ (Side note: can you believe it's not smut again??? Lolol) 

--------****--------

"Damnit!" You groaned out, brows furrowed and lip in a snarl. 

How were you supposed to do this, exactly? After all, you could hurt yourself even more if you weren't exceedingly careful. You stared down at the bathtub like a fierce enemy needing to be vanquished. You were too stubborn to let it beat you just yet. There was also no way you were going to ask your boyfriend Steve for help since you made such a fuss prior to going in the bathroom of doing it yourself. 'Damn my independent woman stance' you thought to yourself.

"You okay in there, doll?" Steve called out, a slight worry in his voice. You also couldn't help but notice a very small hint of amusement as well.  "Fi-iiine!" You called back in a sing-song, doing your best to hide your frustration in your voice. 

You had found yourself in this predicament when a mission went to shit. About a week ago, you were on a data recovery mission with the Avengers. It was supposed to be a quick job, in and out. No one would even know you were there. However, HYDRA must've caught the scent because they ambushed the team. As you were trying to escape back to the quinjet, a flurry of bullets whizzing past you, one of the HYDRA agents caught you in the back of the calf with a slug, taking you down. Agony and blood were everywhere. Steve grabbed you by the arm and threw you over his shoulder to get you out of there before they could finish you off. 

Later, you were told the devastating news that you were to be on hiatus from any Avengers work, including missions and training, for at least 8 weeks if not more. Steve tried to comfort you, saying that it could have been worse, and even if you didn't admit it, you knew that. Had the agents aim been more true, you'd be six feet under instead of worrying how you were going to take a bath with a cast on your leg. Yet, you couldn't help but be obstinate and demand that you try to do things for yourself. You weren't an invalid. Ok, well… maybe you were, but you refused to be treated as such. You had always been an independent person, always active, and always needing to do everything your own way. It was something that Steve admired when you weren't being a pain in the ass about it. "There's no 'I' in team, agent." He'd remind you, sternly. 

A gentle knock was heard on the door startling you from your thoughts. You noticed then that you were gnawing on your bottom lip while you were deciding what to do - an anxious habit you had picked up. You peered towards the door and knew it was Steve there to check up on you. He opened the door and peered in.

"Honey?" Steve asked gently. "Are you sure you're ok? You've been in there a while and there hasn't been any water running yet." "...Yes. I'm ok." You hoped he didn't hear the hesitancy in your voice. There was a beat before he spoke again.  "I'm coming in." 

You silently groaned and slumped your shoulders in defeat. Normally, you would have kicked up a fuss and demanded that he let you try to do it on your own but you had to admit that you were tired, your leg hurt like hell, and you felt disgusting. You desperately wanted a searingly hot bath. 

Steve’s broad shoulders filled the door frame as he came into the bathroom with you. His crystal blue eyes gazed down at you, worry furrowed in his brow. He gently cupped your face and kissed your forehead. 

"Let me help you, sweetheart. Please?" He murmured against you and all you could do was nod. You had to give up the ghost and just relent.  "I don't deserve you." You let out a hollow laugh. 

Steve smiled at you kindly and rubbed your shoulder in support. He bent down, turned on the water, and plugged up the drain so you could take a bath. He grabbed one of your bath bombs from under the sink and plopped it into the water, the spicy honey lemon scent filling the room. You admired how the water turned a lavender color with pink stripes. The soothing smell and Steve's warm presence was already making you feel better. Without a word, Steve effortlessly picked you up bridal style in his arms and gently lowered you into the bath, your affected leg dangling out the side of the tub. 

"Do you need anything to prop your leg up? I could get a small table or a folding chair." "No, this is fine. Thank you." You smiled up at him.

You sank down into the hot water, a small moan escaping your lips. Your muscles instantly felt more relaxed as the heat soothed them. It felt so good to finally be able to sink into your tub and let all the stuff that happened that past week melt away with the soap bubbles. Steve bent down next to the tub and grabbed a loofa, putting it in the soapy water. He started gently scrubbing your shoulder, a concentrated look on his face.

"What're you doing, Steve?" You asked. "I'm helping you. No back talk, that's an order, agent." "Yes, Captain." You tried and failed to contain a grin. Your boyfriend was so cute.

For the next few moments, Steve took the loofah and gingerly massaged the bath suds into your skin. You obliged when you could by moving to help him reach areas of your body, and he did his best to be gentle as he could with the area around the cast. He even helped you wash your hair, which was kind of a task in the bath, but you were so relaxed at that point that it didn't matter too much. His hands and nails scrubbing into your scalp felt amazing and you couldn't help but lean into his touch, making hums of contentment. 

After you were scrubbed clean, Steve helped you up from the tub and wrapped a towel around you. He held you steady so you could wrap your hair up with another towel while balancing on one leg. You looked up at him with a smile of appreciation as he led you into your shared bedroom to get some clean clothes. 

"Thank you for helping me, Steve." You spoke quietly. "I… I know I don't make it easy-"  "You're welcome, sweetheart." He broke in with a knowing smile. "Hopefully you'll let me help you more in the future?" "My leg and I would appreciate it." You smiled back. 

He grinned down at you and kissed you tenderly. You cupped his cheek and returned the kiss, happy to have a man like Steve in your life.

--------****--------

TAGS:  @angrythingstarlight @cheeseburgersstuff

[hailbop1701]

ReaperXFemaleReader

Doom: To Hell And Back

Chapter 8: Arachnophobia

Guys it's back!! 😁😁 it's been a little while and I hope I got back into the flow of this fic. There may be some typos so I hope ya'll don't mind! Love you bunches!

-H❤🖖

“Sam, he’s been shot!” 

Sam rushed to your side all the color gone from her face. “John stay awake, keep your eyes open,” you whispered to him gently as you pulled a gauze packet from your vest. Ripping it open you pressed it firmly on the wound. John groaned and flicked his eyes to you, “You need to get Sam out. Please get her out,” he begged quietly. “He’s getting cold,” Sam whispered clutching her brother’s hand. You looked away and dug through the small bag on your hip; you felt a shaky hand turn your head back. John’s eyes were drooping shut, he didn’t say anything just watched you until he couldn’t. He knew there was nothing you could do, “John, stay with me. Stay awake,” Sam pleaded, patting the man’s cheek rousing him again. “John, stay with me, please,” Sam whispered, voice breaking slightly. You pulled out a small thing of adrenaline and injected it into one of John's veins. It would buy a little time; only a little. John let out a little gasp and sat up a little straighter, he looked at you for just a second before letting his gaze fall on his sister. His hand lifted slightly from the ground and rested over your hand that was braced on the floor by his thigh. Well hidden from Sam and Duke.  

 She pulled out a vial from her pocket, “what’s that?” John slurred attempting to lift his hand. You stiffened, “Sam, we have no way of knowing what effect it will have,” you warned gently. Sam bit her lip holding up the vial for John to see, “It’s C-24. It’s from Carmack’s lab,” she whispered sounding hopeful. John just shook his head, “No.” he refused weakly. “John you’re bleeding to death,” you offered but didn’t push. It was ultimately his decision, “It could save you,” Sam pleaded. “No way, forget it” John ground out nostrils flaring. You looked over your shoulder at Duke who was sitting in the corner of the room head down in his hands. He wanted to give the two siblings some peace before the inevitable happened. “I’ve done some bad things,” John whispered, still trying to convince his sister; she wouldn’t have any of it. “I know you,” 

John shook his head smiling sadly, “You don’t know me. You don’t know,” he murmured tiredly. The adrenaline was wearing off. “You’re my brother. I know you,” Sam sniffed tears rolling down her cheeks. You suddenly felt like you were intruding on something private, moving to leave you felt John's hand tighten over yours keeping you in place. You looked at him confused; eyebrows furrowed, you repositioned yourself so you were kneeling and holding the dying man’s hand with both of yours. John took a breath and made eye contact with you, “If I should turn into one of those demons,” he nodded in the direction of your sidearm, and your breath caught in your throat. “One through the heart, one through the head, don’t you hesitate. Okay?” he asked, squeezing your hand tightly. You hesitated, “(Y/N) please,” 

Looking him in the eyes you nodded blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. Sam pulled a capped syringe from her pocket and filled it taking only half of the liquid in the vial. She put the rest away and gently pulled John’s arm up, finding a vein she inserted the needle and pressed the plunger down. Duke placed a hand on your shoulder making you jump, “You’ll be okay John,” you whispered letting go of his hand and carefully helped him lie down. Pushing his hair back you had him reapply pressure to his wound. His other hand pulled the ST grenade from his vest and placed it in your hands; he smiled at you before closing his eyes for what you thought was the last time. Sam sniffed hands swatting at the tears that fell. The pounding on the door grew more intense, the roaring and growling grew louder making you grip the ST grenade harder. 

Duke moved so Sam was behind him while you stowed the grenade away to use later. Picking up your rifle from where you discarded it earlier, you took aim at the buckling door.  Taking a deep breath you backed up so you were standing in front of Reaper and a solid three feet from Duke. The door groaned and shot inwards; yelping you turned to the side to avoid the twisted metal; it clipped your bad shoulder making your vision blacken ever so slightly, “(Y/N)!” you heard Sam scream and one of the turned was on you. Before you could be tackled to the ground you grabbed your aggressor’s wrist, twisting it and pulling so his arm was wrenched behind him. Hooking your ankle with the demons you pulled making it crash to the floor with its arms still in your grasp. Kicking your leg up and over its body so both your feet were on either side of the demon’s neck. It howled and roared at you before you tightened the gap and gave a twist. This took simple seconds to do and Duke was about to get swarmed; pulling your rifle back into position you fired. 

The demons went down quickly after that. When the room was silent again you looked down at Reaper. His chest was still; he looked like he was in a deep sleep. Duke took Sam’s hand and led her out of the room before she could inquire about her brother, he stopped and turned to look at you questioningly. You hadn’t moved, “Go get close to the elevator and hunker down. I’m going to confirm Sarge is gone then I’ll join you,” you said voice even. Duke hesitated but nodded, “For the love of God (Y/N) be careful,” Sam urged before disappearing. When they were gone you bent at the waist and sobbed; every member of the team flashed through your mind. After a minute of misery, you pulled yourself up, willing the adrenaline to keep pumping for just a little while longer. You groaned feeling your cracked ribs and concussed head, your stitches pulled and your body ached. You were bone tired. Setting your rifle down you cleared the bodies away from Reaper, piling them in the corner. Looking at the space as you panted out of breath; grabbing the edge of a large crate you dragged it across the floor. It screeched in protest as you positioned it in front of Reaper obscuring the view of anyone in the corridor. You piled anything that would fit on top of the crate until you couldn’t anymore, wiping your dirty hands on your pants as you looked up into the mirror ahead of you. Flinching at your reflection you knelt down and pulled John’s dog tags from around his neck; examining them for a moment you fixed the clasp and pulled the tags over your head. His tags clinked against yours like sad, bloody windchimes, your hand curled around your own tags. Your hand rested there before you gave a sharp tug and they fell away with a snap. Standing you turned toward the mirror again, your eyes reflected dully back at you. Huffing you draped your military career over the side of the mirror. They hung there swinging back and forth like a pendulum, “Was it worth it?” you asked the reflection. She just stared back at you sadly. Scoffing you pick up your weapon again before leaving the storeroom. 

You jogged down the empty corridor before coming to the completely broken nanowall. Half of the wall was solid while the other half was not, “Oh that’s safe,” you muttered creeping closer, gun raised. Crouching you quickly ducked under the solid bit, once you were on the other side you breathed a sigh of relief. Clicking your flashlight on you checked down the dark hall. Seeing and hearing nothing you eyed the blood trail, “It looks like I’m going left,” you mused following the bright stain. Everything was too quiet, every creak and groan made you tense and freeze. The blood trail seemed to go on forever when in reality it only went on for a few hallways; it finally ended in front of large double doors. 

You grabbed the handle of the door and quickly swung it open. Checking your corners you entered the room activating the lights and you immediately regretted it. The room was covered in webs and sacks of people to be saved for later. “How did it even get here?” you questioned exasperated. Your head was on a swivel as you walked through the large mess hall with hesitant steps, “ Why does this shit always happen to me?” you muttered trigger finger twitching at every little sound. “(Y/N) are you okay? Did you find Sarge?” Sam whispered over the comm. “I’m...I think I found Karen,” you said nervously laughing, there was a long pause. “Shit,” Duke said, at last, being less than helpful, “Thank You, Duke, for your wise words of encouragement,” you deadpanned. 

You felt a sudden warmth envelop your back, a chittering hiss rang loudly in your ear. Squeaking you slowly turned to see Karen hanging upside down from her web gnawing on what was left of a scientist. “Heh, good Karen. Smart Karen...did I ever mention what a lovely name that is?” you chuckled dryly slowly backing up. You only stopped when the back of your legs hit a table. Karen chittered again dropping the body to the ground with a sickening thud, “I think complimenting her will definitely keep her from eating you,” you heard Duke deadpanned over the line.

“Duke you and I need to have a long ass chat about being you being so un-fucking-helpful,“ you hissed watching as Karen lowered herself to the ground. You and the giant arachnid stared each sizing the other up; slowly without taking your eyes away tiptoed to the mess hall doors. The giant spider chittered and hissed sending cold chills to shoot down your spine. She followed you ever so slowly around the upturned tables and chairs as if she were afraid she was going to spook you into running. ‘Why does she have to be smart?’ you mentally screamed your heartbeat echoing in your ears. You froze when your heel came in contact with a chair violently; it skidded on the tiled floor behind you. “Ah crap,” you muttered shoulder sagging. 

Karen seemed to growl lowly before pouncing, you yelped as you were tossed onto one of the mess hall tables that weren’t twisted and flipped over. You wheezed the breath being completely knocked out of you, rolling so you fell to the floor you stagger to your feet. The wall next to you shuddered and the sound of multiple chitters and clicks made you freeze and slowly look over. One of the white sacks burst open releasing a multitude of baby spiders. “SHE HAS BABIES!” you couldn’t help but scream. You flew past Karen ducking one of her legs as she swung a leg towards your head. Without a glance over your shoulder, you launched yourself into the kitchen. The door swung back and forth behind you for a second before it was flung inward by several legs: Karen hissed at you angrily trying to squeeze her body through the small opening. Squeaking you skidded to a halt in front of a line of gas ovens. Quickly you turned every knob so the gas slowly filled the room, coughing you covered your nose and mouth watching as the monster squeezed through the kitchen door. Backing up slowly you pulled your last charge disk from your belt, “Okay you freak of nature,” you growled clicking the center of the disk. The giant spider hissed and chittered angrily. 

Tossing the disk, you turned and darted out a secondary door from the kitchen to the adjacent corridor. A scalding heat scorched your back tossing you forward; a scream tore through your throat. Landing harshly on the floor you whimpered the sound of Sam and Duke calling for you to answer them. You wanted to answer them and say that you were alright but you felt so heavy and the dark consumed you quickly. 

Things were muffled and everything was eerily still; John gasped awake the sound of a distant scream bringing him back to awareness. Swallowing thickly John rolled himself onto his hands and knees; he pulled himself to his feet before stumbling over to a sink and mirror. John looked at his healed, bloody face with numb astonishment, “Damn,” he whispered, turning his face side to side. Furrowing his brows John reached out for the set of dog tags hanging on the corner of the mirror, “where did you go (Y/N)?” he whispered running a thumb over the rough face of the tags. Slipping them quickly over his head John grabbed his discarded weapon before running out the door. 

Tags:

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@lauraaan182

@writerdee1701

@dw-writes

@marvelouslytrekking

@stileslover13-blog

[calpalirwin]

Lunchtime Disaster

A/N: A thing for mostly @philthepegacorn.

Trigger Warning: ? Bigoted bullshit that in no way reflects my own views. If you’d rather not read it, that’s what the warnings for. Don’t come bitching to me for writing it because A.) I warned you and B.) this fic largely isn’t for you 😊

Word Count: 1.5k

And away, and away we go!

__

You were so excited about getting ready for lunch to see your old childhood friend, that you didn’t hear the first knock on your door. Or the impatient three thumps that followed a few moments later. Or anything beyond the music blaring from your phone as you exited the bathroom and found Michael standing in your bedroom doorway, arms crossed over his chest. So, you did the natural thing: you screamed.

Michael’s hands went up to plug his ears while you continued to shriek, “Michael! What the fuck?! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!”

“You should really learn to lock your door.”

“You should really learn to not barge into people’s houses!”

“I knocked for one thing. For another, you knew I was coming over today. Didn’t you?”

“I-” you faltered, your eyes wide and mind racing with your plans. Were you and Michael supposed to hang out today? How had that slipped your mind?

Michael sighed, crossing the room to sit down on your bed. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Michael, I am so sorry!” you apologized, sitting down next to him. “I must have mixed up the times, I just… Faith called me saying she’s in town, and I guess I got too excited to see her again, I forgot about any other plans I had. I’m so sorry.”

“Faith? Your high school best friend, yeah?”

“Yeah! And…” you trailed off to check the time on your phone. “I really need to leave before I’m late meeting her. But I will call you when I’m done, and we can hang out after? It’s just lunch, it shouldn’t take too long,” you tried to make amends as you got up, grabbing your bag.

“Lunch? I like lunch. Any activities that involve eating really.”

You laughed, pausing in the doorway. “You wanna come with?”

Michael grinned as he got up and skipped over to you, interlinking his arm with yours. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Michael listened to you chatter away about how excited you were to see Faith again on the short drive over to the restaurant. About how she had been your best friend growing up and stupid college and time made the two of you grow distant. “Oh, I’m so excited!” you said for the millionth time as you pulled into a parking space. In addition to getting to see Faith in you didn’t know how long, you also had some news you wanted to share with her.

“I can tell,” Michael teased you.

You smacked his arm, giggling as you did so. “Fuck you. You didn’t have to come.”

“And do what with my day instead? Not eat?” he asked as you both got out of your car.

“Is that the only reason you came with me? To get food?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s the only reason. But definitely like 90 percent. The other 10 is because I’m your new best friend, and Faith is your old best friend. So I should probably meet her.”

“Who said you were my best friend?”

He staggered dramatically as he pulled open the door. “The guys warned me. They said ‘Mike, watch out for Y/N, she’s only your friend to get close to the dogs’ but I told them they were crazy. Turns out they were right all along. I’m wounded. Truly.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you laughed, scanning the restaurant, spotting Faith at a table. “Oh, there she is! Faith!” you waved.

The woman turned her head to the sound, spotting you and smiling brightly. “Y/N!” she called out, waving you over.

The two of you crashed into each other for a tight hug as you both let out a small squeal of glee at being reunited, Michael standing awkwardly just a step behind you. He cleared his throat when he thought the greeting had gone on long enough. Faith peeled herself off of you to look up at him. “Oh? And who are you?”

“Faith, this is Michael. Michael, this is Faith,” you introduced.

“Oh?” Faith asked again with a slight lilt that came from wanting to ask if you were just friends or more without directly asking.

“Just a friend,” Michael clarified, understanding what wasn’t being said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Faith smiled at him.

As lunch started, and you and Faith started up a conversation, you began to wonder like you often did how the two of you had drifted apart. What with endless ways of staying connected, it was crazy to you that you hadn’t stayed in better touch. But after she came back from excusing herself to the restroom, you quickly remembered why. “What’s up?” you questioned, noticing her face pinched in disgust.

“It was a fuckin’ gender neutral bathroom…”

“That’s probably really helpful for single parents,” Michael commented offhandedly.

Faith shot him a look. “Yeah, but like make a single use family restroom for them then. Don’t make the existing bathrooms gender neutral. That’s gross…”

Michael pulled a small face, but shook his head and went back to his food. “Okay…” he muttered under his breath.

You, however, didn’t show as much restraint. “What’s so gross about gender neutral restrooms? It’s a restroom.”

“Yeah, but…” Faith looked around before leaning across the table and talking in a hushed voice. “This is how it starts.”

“How what starts?”

“The bending over backwards to make everyone feel safe. It’s a bunch of shit. There’s already equality with there being a men’s restroom, and a women’s restroom.”

“Which is great. For those who identify that way.”

Faith snorted. “As if there’s any other way to identify.”

Your skin felt like it was on fire with the level of rage boiling inside you. You definitely weren’t going to tell her your news now. “Well… It’s like Mike said. It’s great for single parents to have access to gender neutral restrooms.”

“Oh, I bet. But you could just make a separate restroom for that. But for everyone else? Just pick a restroom.”

“I don’t think it’s as easy as that.”

“Oh sure it is! Either you’re a boy, or you’re a girl.”

“But there are people who identify as both…”

Faith snorted again. “Please. That’s almost as bad as bisexuals. It’s an excuse not to make a choice, really. Or a way to be cool. Because bottom line, end of the day, you’re one, or the other.”

“Interesting…” 

“What? You think I’m wrong?”

“I think…” you said, keeping your voice tightly controlled, “that your viewpoint is a closed-minded one.”

“Everyone’s entitled to their own opinion. This one just happens to be mine.”

“That it is.”

“Anyway!” Faith decided before launching into a new story, but you couldn’t focus on anything beyond the gnawing feeling in your stomach. When the time came for the three of you to leave, you could almost weep with relief.

“I’m not sure I like your friend so much,” Michael murmured once you were safely tucked away in your car, and Faith in hers.

You let out a loud laugh. Then kept laughing until it turned into sobs, your body heaving as you hunched over your steering wheel. Michael’s hand reached over to gently rub up and down your back. “It’s alright,” he soothed, not quite sure of what else to do.

“No it’s not!” you blubbered, adjusting just enough to look at him, tear tracks down your face. “She hates me!”

“How does her being a bigot translate to her hating you, exactly?”

“She hates people like me, Mike!” you continued to wail, your tears now leaving wet spots on his shirt as you clung to him for dear life.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you to him. “Hey, slow down. What are you talking about? People like you? Are you…?” he let the question hang in the air.

“Bi? Yes,” you hiccuped.

“No, I knew that. I meant your identity.”

“Yes, I’m non-binary…” The confession fell from your lips, and while the word flooded you relief at finally saying it to someone else, Faith had tainted the experience even though she wasn’t here to witness it. “And now you hate me too, don’t you?”

“Aw, c’mon Y/N. I could never hate you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. I love you too much to ever hate you.”

That shocked you enough to choke on the next cry. “You… what?”

“I-” Michael stumbled, his face bright red. “I meant like as friends I love you.”

“Oh…”

“I mean… I’m in love with you too. But I was kinda saving that confession for another time. When you’re less… distraught.”

You looked up at him with your eyes puffy and red from crying, the tears making your lashes stick together. “You’re in love with me?” you whispered.

He chuckled softly as his thumbs brushed away the tears still on your face. “Of course I’m in love with you. Why wouldn’t I be? And no, I don’t care if you’re in love with me back. I mean… I do. But it’s not gonna change anything for me if you don’t. Because you’re you. And there’s nothing you can do, or be, that would make me not love you.”

__

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[prettyguardiankore-blog]

Love in Literacy, chapter 6 (Levi x fem!reader)

Don't drink, kids.

Hazy morning light poured in through your window. You blinked, and slowly began to open your eyes, but immediately snapped them back shut. A sharp pain ran through your head. Fuck. Your head was throbbing, and there was an empty nausea in your stomach. You could hurl. You groaned, and pulled your blanket back up over your head, enveloping yourself in the warm darkness, and curling into a fetal position. You’d gotten wasted again. Unbeknownst to anyone else, this was something that happened about once a month. You’d never cared for alcohol as a Scout, but after your accident, it was just something that had happened. And you’d let it. You weren’t proud of it, but it felt like the only way you could simply sit in your emotions, the self-restraint you had when sober was difficult to overcome. Hange had caught you once, drunkenly stumbling back into the castle, bruised up from some bar fight you’d gotten yourself into...they’d been pretty pissed, understandably so. It was one of the few times you’d seen them truly angry with you. If they found out that this was something of a routine for you, they'd have your head on a stake.

You rubbed your eyes and furrowed yourself deeper into your cozy sheets. What happened yesterday? You knit your brow, desperately trying to call upon the events of the previous night.

Okay first, I snuck out to the bar, some old pub near the canal, got that...next, I had a couple of drinks... It wasn’t enough to get me very drunk though...sat around...then someone started talking to me, that new barmaid they’d hired. She was pretty... blonde hair, pale green eyes. She was being really flirty too. I kept talking with her as I drank, and that's when I started feeling tipsy. Then she went on break… and then...

Your eyes flicked open. You’d definitely gotten intimate with her after that. Had you slept with her? You smacked your head in disbelief. No, no, you would’ve remembered, no matter how drunk you were. You’d come pretty close though. You rubbed your temples worriedly. You remembered how she'd softly sucked on the skin of your neck, as you fiddled with the laces of her corset, your free hand trailing up her leg, her soft breath in your ear… What’s wrong with me? You felt heat pouring into your face as the memories returned to you. But something had stopped you from going any further with her.

She wasn’t Marla.

You rolled onto your back, and stared up at the ceiling. You let out a dark chuckle, as you brought your hands up to cover your eyes. You really were a scumbag. Was that your feeble attempt at some sort of replacement for what you could’ve had with her? You didn’t want to think so, but plenty of other people had flirted with you while you were out, why did you never pursue any of them? Why is it the one time you gave into desire, it happened to be someone who resembled your dead best friend? You’d been able to stop yourself, but that was the bare minimum. At the very most, you weren’t a total piece of shit. You squeezed your eyes shut. You didn’t want to delve into the topic too deeply at that moment, so you continued with your recollection of the night. What happened after that?

Well. that was about as far as I got with her. After I had my moment of self realization, I started coming up with excuses to leave. She was pretty mad... I can't blame her. After that I went back into the tavern and had a few more shots… that's when I got really wasted. I decided it was time to get back to the castle. I walked back, it started to rain a bit...then I’d made it back...then I saw Levi.

…

Levi?

Your eyes snapped open and you shot up from your position on the bed, You were now sitting upright, eyes wild. You quietly swallowed. Instantaneously, the rest of the night came flooding back to you. Everything, from the way you’d spoken to him, to the way he’d practically had to drag you back to your room… you froze. And your eyes darted to the filthy chaos that you called your room. He'd seen your room.

“You smell really good. ”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. You said that to him. That was something you said. To him. With your mouth. To his face. You plopped back onto your bed. Slowly, you reached a trembling hand over to your pillow, and shoved your face deeply into it, letting out a shriek of embarrassment and frustration. Your face felt like it was going to melt off. How could you have said that? He probably thought you were a total creep now, and could you blame him? If someone you hardly knew said that to you, you’d submit for a restraining order. After you were done screaming, you gingerly placed your pillow back on the bed, and stood up.

You were supposed to see him later today for lessons, but you absolutely couldn’t. You began pacing back and forth at the foot of your bed. You would apologize to him profusely tomorrow, but you needed at least a day of mental recuperation before you could even consider facing him. Immediately, your mind began racing through the varying excuses you could use to weasel your way out of it. Pretend to be sick? Say you had a meeting with Erwin? Say you were just too tired? Alternatively, you could just not show up at all, did you really owe him an explanation? Yes. You gnawed at your bottom lip pensively. Well, you would need to think about that later. Right now, you really needed to puke.

👁Frantically, you hopped around your obstacle course of a floor and to the bathroom. You slammed the door open, dropped to your knees, hunched over the toilet bowl, and retched. After you were done, you took a deep breath. Another decision you immediately regretted, you gagged at the rancid scent of your own vomit. It was enough to make you puke again, which you easily did. Once it was really all out, you collapsed back down onto the cool tile floor. You closed your eyes, leaning your head back. Your head was still pulsing. Why do I do this to myself...? You thought, dejectedly. When you couldn’t come up with a real answer, you decided you might as well take some time to get ready. You needed to do something to distract yourself. You pulled yourself up from the floor, and leaned down to flush the toilet. You mindlessly watched as what you had spewed spiraled down into the pipes. 👁 You sighed, relieved to be rid of the mess, and turned back to the mirror to get a good look at yourself. It was certainly a sight to behold. Sullen eyes, with harrowing eye bags underneath to compliment them. Your cheeks were puffy, it was something that happened when you drank. You reached up to gently massage the centers of your cheeks, a feeble attempt to relieve the inflammation. Your hair stuck up in every other direction, and you still had some drool dripping down your chin. How lovely, you thought, wiping it away with the back of your hand.

You decided a shower would serve you well. You began stripping away your clothes, the same black corset and cream white dress you’d been wearing at the bar the night before. Once you were undressed, you turned the shower faucet on. You crossed your arms over your chest, lightly hopping back and forth from your two feet as you waited for the water to heat up. You cautiously poked a finger in, for a feel of the temperature. Satisfied, you stepped in, letting out a blissful sigh as the warm water trickled down your body. So what’s my day plan? You mused, grabbing the soap bar, and beginning to hastily scrub at every inch of your body. You wanted to avoid Levi at all costs, so what did that mean for you? You could probably stay holed up in the library. Unless he actively sought you out, which you highly doubted he would, you wouldn’t face any issue. You began rinsing off your body, and moved on to your hair. You poured hair wash into your palm, and began massaging it into your scalp and roots. That sounds good, and even if I see him there, I'll just pretend I didn’t notice him walking in and sneak out through the back room. You began rinsing yourself off, and gave yourself a hard nod, a weak attempt to give yourself some self assurance in your shotty plan. After you finished rinsing yourself off, you shut the water off, and reached a hand out of the shower, groping around for the towel you'd placed on the toilet. You wrung out your hair, wrapped yourself in your towel, and stepped out.

You pushed open the door, releasing the built up steam that had collected in the small room, and headed to your drawer for your underwear. After you got them on, you headed over to your closet, and picked a nicer outfit than you normally might. When you felt shitty mentally, you tried to present yourself in the best way possible physically. You picked out a frilly, intricately stitched, cream colored top. It was a bit itchy, but you could bear with it for the day. Your eyes glazed over the various skirts you had hung up, and you settled on a ruffled red skirt with gold accents. After you were dressed, you moved back to the bathroom. You brushed your teeth, hair, and put on some makeup. Just a bit of lip tint, mascara, and blush. You observed yourself in your mirror. You actually looked good. You revelled in your beauty for longer than you usually might, doing a couple spins for the mirror. You gave your reflection an awkward smile. You were starting to feel a little better, the feeling of hopelessness was beginning to dwindle. I can do this. You took a deep breath, snatched your glasses from your desk, and left the room.

📷 📷

Sometimes, you liked to go to the kitchen and sneak some tea out, just as a small way to treat yourself. So that was exactly what you were gonna do. Did you deserve tea? Debatable, but maybe it would help your head. You walked through the halls of the castle, until you eventually found yourself at the kitchen door. You slowly opened it, and cautiously poked your head in, looking around the small room. It was empty, which was to be expected, meal preparation for the Scouts happened the night before, and the chefs usually didn’t return until later in the afternoon.

You stepped in, and began preparing your tea. You opened the cupboard, faced with the same question that plagued you every time you did. Green or Black....today is a Green day. You hummed in agreement with yourself and pulled out the can, and placed the bag in your cup. You took a few laps around the room as you waited for the water in the kettle to come to a boil, then carefully poured it into the mug. Hot steam bellowed from it, fogging your glasses. You wiped your glasses off and left it to steep, You leaned against the counter while you waited, thinking about your next move. You’d realized that there was a minor risk of going to the library, although it was unlikely, if Furlan and Isabel visited you in there, there was a small chance Levi would accompany them. A small, but very real chance that you didn’t want to take. So you decided you'd go to the castle garden and enjoy your tea there. You glanced over to your cup. It'd been less than a minute since it had begun to steep. Green tea should sit for three minutes...if you sprinted to the library to grab a book, and sprinted back, you should make it back just in time to pull the bag from the cup before it became bitter. With that, you bolted out of the room and began your mad dash to the library.

Thankfully, the halls were empty, so you didn’t have to deal with the embarrassment of someone seeing you huffing and puffing as you made your way through the castle. When you arrived at the library's large wooden doors, you pushed them open, with a small grunt, and ran over to your desk. Your eyes frantically flicked back and forth over its messy contents, until they landed on what you were looking for. Ah, here it is. 'The Gentleman's Nursery'. You'd been wanting to reread the story for a while. The last time you'd tried, you'd quickly gotten interrupted. You snatched it off the desk and began heading back to leave. You opened the doors and did a check of both ends of the hall. When you turned your head to the left, you saw something that opened a pit in your stomach. Seriously? It was Levi. He stood at the entrance to the hall, hand still on the door, with that same indifferent look he usually wore. You stared at him with a dumb expression on your face, chest heaving up and down. Your mind was racing. What were the chances of this happening? Unless the Scout's schedule had drastically changed since you were discharged, he should’ve still been doing his morning warm-ups. You'd thought this through over and over again, the last thing you’d expected of him was to show up by himself. He took one step towards you. Without thinking, you immediately dashed over to the opposite door, leaving him behind you. I'm not running from him, I just need to get back to my tea before it gets bitter, you assured yourself, which wasn’t entirely untrue. You shot him a quick look over your shoulder as you arrived at the door. Fuck. He hadn't moved, but now he looked annoyed. Actually, that was cutting him short, he looked pissed. Straight up pissed. You swallowed, still panting. Maybe a small explanation would alleviate the situation. Unfortunately, with how tired you were, and the fact that your brain was working at a mile a minute, the explanation you got out was less than ideal.

"Green tea gets bitter fast!" You blurted back, as you began shutting the doors behind you. As you did, you snuck one last look at his face. Still angry, but now with a hint of confusion in his expression.

You grimaced, but continued your sprint through the long hall, mentally kicking yourself for the shotty ‘explanation’ you’d provided. Soon enough, you‘d made it back to the kitchen. You entered, and slumped back against the door, finally catching your breath. After you were done, you hurried over to the table, and carefully pulled the dripping tea bag from your cup, and tossed it in the trash, and took a sip. Still good. But the relief you got from that fact was short lived. You sighed. You set the tea down and held your head in your hands dropping yourself onto the stone floor. The consequences of your actions were beginning to take form in your mind. If you were speaking in terms of a scale from one to ten, the situation before was a seven. It was absolutely humiliating what happened the night before… but it happened. At the most, he thought less of you. You didn’t like the idea of it, but it’s not like you two were amazingly close to begin with, so you could handle it in the long run, and you still had your pride. But now, it was a ten. Not only he had to drag you home, drunk, in the dead of the night, and power through your drunken rambling, but now, the following morning, instead of thanking him, you’d run away from him, like a child. You groaned. My tea could’ve waited, you thought glumly, as you furrowed your head into your arms. How was it that every time, without fail, you managed to dig yourself into an even deeper hole than before? You had to fix this somehow, the original plan of just avoiding him all day wouldn’t do anymore. You had to reach out and properly apologize, and preferably soon, before it became an irreparable mistake. You reached into your pocket, and pulled out your stopwatch. It read nine nineteen.

The Scouts training would end around six, then they’d head back to their barracks for the night. You’d go out and find him then. You reached up to massage your temples. I can fix this. You found reassurance in the fact that you’d formulated a plan again. And even if he was still upset with you after, it would be out of your hands, and that would be okay. Although, the nagging feeling in your chest when you thought of it as an outcome made you queasy. Perhaps you were fonder of him than you’d thought. You took a deep breath, and hoisted yourself up from the floor. You had nine hours until you were to apologize to Levi, so you might as well continue with your initial plan. You picked up your tea from the table, and began the walk to the garden.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

After the hectic morning, this was exactly what you needed. It had warmed up substantially from the morning, and the once dreary sky was replaced by a piercing blue one. Your eyes lazily followed the slow movement of the clouds. They looked like the innards of a freshly baked loaf of bread, spilling out of it’s cracking crust. Fluffy...Those are...Cumulus clouds, you concluded. There was a light breeze, carrying the scent of moist dirt from the downpour the night previous. You pulled out your blue ribbon bookmark, placed it on your page, and closed the book gently.

📷

You’d been here for several hours now. You pulled out your stopwatch again, it read twelve o three. You plopped into the soft grass, closing your eyes, to bask in the warm afternoon sun. You began to lift your knee up, but as you began to move it, a sharp pain ran up your inner thigh, and you let out a small yelp of pain. You grimaced. Had you pulled a muscle? All the running from earlier had made you more sore than you’d expected. It was time to face a fact that you’d been ignoring, you were getting weak. It made sense, the shift from vigorous training everyday, to the stagnant life of a librarian, it would have been outrageous to expect otherwise, but you hadn’t wanted to admit it. You chewed your lip. Should I start training again? You pondered, as you adjusted your dress underneath you. It couldn’t hurt to start running in the mornings, and you could pick up weight training again. You frowned. You’d probably have to fix your appalling sleep schedule as well… actually, that would probably have to be the first step if you wanted to achieve anything. It would be a lot of work, but yesterday was a wake-up call for you. You’d nearly done something that you would’ve regretted for a long time. Guilt, loneliness, uselessness... whenever you fell into any of those slumps, you turned to the bottle for the night. The instances where this was happening were only becoming more and more common in these past months. You were destroying yourself, and eventually you’d make a mistake you couldn’t take back. It was the fate of a drunkard.

You pushed your hands against the grass and sat yourself upright, taking a deep breath. Well, now what? You’d now established that you wanted a change, but how were you supposed to initiate the change? It was more than just a drinking problem, it was a coping mechanism that you’d slowly ingrained into yourself for the past year. You sighed. You needed to talk to someone, someone that could hold you accountable, someone who you could reach out to before you fell into the cycle again. Seeing as you only had a total of two close friends, one of which had a bit of a drinking problem himself, that left you with one option, Hange. You groaned. This was a conclusion you’d reached a long time ago, but you'd really wanted to avoid it. They’re going to give me hell. You slumped back down into the grass, shutting your eyes. You could talk to them later tonight, they had been planning on visiting you in the library anyway. You frowned. Apologize to Levi, confide in Hange… what a loaded day you had ahead of you. As someone who was more introverted, it sounded like your own personal hell. Just thinking about it made you tired. Maybe I should take a small nap, you thought, letting out an obnoxiously loud yawn, as you brought your hands up to your eyes to block the sun’s light. Your eyelids started to feel heavy, so you began to indulge yourself in some rest. Of course, as soon as you did, you felt someone nudge on your shoulder. God damn it. You groaned and pulled yourself back up, with an irked expression on your face. You snapped your head back to face who had interrupted you.

“What.” You asked, with more bite than intended.

There stood Furlan, towering awkwardly over you. He looked a little taken aback by your sharp tone. A twinge of guilt popped in your chest.

“Sorry, If this is a bad time-” He began.

“No, no! Please, it’s fine, I was just tired...didn’t sleep much last night.” You explained, “Please, you don’t have to leave.” You insisted. He gave you a grateful smile.

“Don’t mind if I do then!” he said cheekily, plopping himself next to you on the ground, still keeping a respectful distance.

"So what are you doing out here, shouldn't you be in the dining hall now?"

"Ah, yeah I should be..." he chuckled, rubbing his neck, "But my stomach wasn't feeling the best, so I just grabbed a loaf of bread and decided to take a walk."

"Maybe you should go back and eat. You say that now but you might need the energy later, you have a long day ahead of you." You warned, but he just shook his head.

"Naw, besides Levi's in a touchy mood right now, don't really want to be near him." He said with a small laugh. You froze. Furlan noticed the disgruntled look on your face.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, cocking his head.

"Ah, it's nothing," You said, pursing your lips, "But what were you saying about Levi? Do you know why he seems upset?" You asked, as nonchalantly as possible.

"I dunno, Commander Shadis sent him to Erwin's office for some formation practice papers, and when he came back he was in a sour mood, wouldn't tell me or Isabel why."

"I see." You said, quietly. I really need to talk to him. An uncomfortable silence fell between the two of you, neither of you knew what to say to the other, so the two of you just sat there, looking up to the clouds. Eventually, he tapped your shoulder again, and you turned your focus back to his lips.

"What are you reading?" He asked, pointing a finger to the book next to you. You perked back up.

"Ah, this is called the 'Gentleman's Nursery'" You replied, picking it up and placing it on your lap, "It's a romance novel I read as a teenager...I really love it, it's one of my favorites, so I decided to read it again."

Furlan observed you intently as you spoke. A small heat trickled onto your face as your eyes met back up to meet his gaze. He has nice eyes. For the first time since meeting him, you actually observed them closely. They were very defined, slightly downturned at the ends. It gave them a tired look. The color was a popping hazel, with dark brown specks here and there. Your eyes quickly returned down to his lips as you realized he was preparing to speak.

"Do you like romance?"

You blinked, unsure of what he meant with his question.

"...Huh?"

"A-ah, I meant the romance genre." He explained quietly, averting his gaze. He looked a little red. Of course he did. You scolded yourself mentally for interpreting it any other way

"Oh, well it's not my favorite genre, but this one's just so well written, I can't help but reread it over and over again..." You said, as you fiddled with the blades of grass under your hand, "What about you?"

"Hm?"

"Have you ever enjoyed a romance novel?"

"Oh, not really, I've always liked mystery, horror, that type of thing."

You hummed in response. Another silence fell between the two of you.

"Can I borrow that book?" He blurted out, pointing at the book on your lap. You looked at him questioningly.

"Really? Do you think you'd be interested in this sort of thing?"

"Well, if you say it's good, that's gotta mean something, right? I admit it's not my style but..." He turned his head the opposite way as he got out the rest of his sentence. You couldn't see what he said.

"...But? I couldn't see what you said." You told him, arching a brow.

"Ah, sorry." He murmured, quickly turning back to face you, "... Well, it'll give us something to talk about, so I'll read it." he responded, bluntly. His face was now a stunning vermilion, and you couldn't help but reciprocate a flushed feeling in your cheeks as he looked at you. Such earnest eyes. You turned your gaze down to your feet, which had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world to you in that moment. You didn't say anything for a bit, but you were brimming with excitement at the idea of having a reading buddy.

"O-oh, well of course you can borrow it, if you want...It'll be nice to finally have someone to talk to about it." You said with a small chuckle, as you handed the book to him, which he accepted with a small bow. You pulled out your watch, and you blinked in surprise. Twelve thirty-three.

"Furlan you need to get going! Lunch ended three minutes ago!" you exclaimed, voice jumping up an octave. His eyes widened, and he instantly shot up from the grass and began a dash back to the training fields. He didn't get very far before he turned back to face you. He shouted something, but the distance between the two of you was too wide. You motioned towards your ears in oblivion and gave him an exaggerated shrug. You snickered as you saw him smack himself in the forehead at his mistake, before jogging back up to you.

"We'll talk more after the expedition tomorrow!" He beamed, before turning back and continuing his sprint to the field.

You stared at him with a blank look as he ran off into the distance. That dreaded sense of familiarity overcame you. The similarity between what he just said and Marla's last promise was too glaring to ignore, no matter how hard you tried. A part of you wanted to chase after him, and pull him back to sit next to you again, so the two of you could keep talking about books. But you didn't. You decided to put your faith in him, despite every bone in your body screaming at you to do otherwise. You remembered the day you'd told them about your last expedition.

We won't die out there.

He'd stated this as a fact, and you found yourself replaying his words in your head over and over again for comfort until eventually, you found yourself genuinely believing in it. Levi, Isabel, and Furlan were all very skilled soldiers, that's what Hange always told you, and they had no reason to lie to you. That, in combination with the new Scouting formation, made the likelihood of something happening pretty low. You sighed, releasing the tension that had unwittingly built up in your chest. Look at you, thinking about him as if he were already dead, you thought, rubbing your eyes. You smiled to yourself, gazing up at the fluffy clouds. You looked forward to finally having someone to talk to about books.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[10millionyearsdungeon]

Kriegsbeute: Lone Survivor

A/N: So...there are days when I’m stuck in my feels, and then there’s this shit. Inspired largely by a game (can we call it a game?) and conversation that ensued in the Smut Pile discord server. First fic for Attack on Titan, rather takes place in the AoT universe. Might add onto it depending on how we’re feeling (if we’re continuing down the wistful, introspective depression hole then yes, there’s going to be more). Enjoy the blood-soaked, PTSD-fueled memoirs of a near-centenarian.

TW: Blood, violence, tobacco use, death. (for later installments) Non-con, alcohol use, forced consumption of illicit substances, blood play, forced pregnancy, graphic depictions of grievous injuries, and death. 

======================================================= There's always something so lonesome about cold, rainy mornings. Awake before the rest of the household, spare maybe the cat curled up outside the bedroom door, the rest of the world is still asleep. They're locked into dreams and warmth while I sit pondering the gnawing, nagging dread simmering in the pit of my stomach that even after my retirement from the Scout Corps hasn't found the decency to leave an old woman to her gilded twilight years. The familiar lick of a lighter whispering to life under my thumb reminds me of easier mornings when waking up wasn't the loneliest part of the day, when drawing ten drags closer to cancer was a bonding activity and not a necessity to brace against the rising tide of my own anxieties. Nearly a century is a long time to dwell on my own faults and what might have been. I think back to my comrades in arms, the sisters and brothers devoured by the agonizing march of time and circumstance. 

Rain, cold pinpricks of silver on polished pavement, patters an aimless rhythm, and all I can hear is the rumble of thundering stones crashing through the town square and the haunting screaming of my squad-mates fleeing the carnage. As the fire catches on my fingertips and the smoke fills my withered lungs I remember their faces, bloodied and lifeless in the warm colored light of the festival. We all knew the dangers of war; we were soldiers, but nothing could have prepared us for the betrayal, the abandonment we faced during that darkest day. Titans were one horror, but knowing the human face behind the plot, living a life alongside the traitors who could throw away the lives of my compatriots so carelessly was a wound left festering for the better part of seventy-five years. How cold those emerald eyes turned when Eren wrote off halving our numbers-- our own people! 

"Collateral damage," Armin rationalized. Even before I was jaded by endless war and empty promises of peace I knew better. I could see it in the faces that remained-- the senseless loss, the pyrrhic victory that Eren craved through every inch of those final battles had become a fact of life. 

"We lost five of our best today…"

"And we will honor their sacrifice by winning the war." 

"By winning your war," I thought bitterly at the time. It was a sentiment shared by most and voiced by none. We knew tomorrow was never promised, but the odds of living through the night grew slimmer still while we shared a roof with traitors. 

"Erwin wouldn't have wanted this," Lauren whispered. It was practically a mantra those days before she met her end at the edge of an Ackerman's sword. 

Smoke curls around my pursed lips in a mirthless chortle over the memory. The battle scars littering my gnarled hands and bent body are a litany of medals and accolades beguiling the pain still aching beneath. How I longed for the quiet, the serenity I was certain peacetime and old age would bring! My survival is a cosmic joke, yet even when my grandchildren are rousing from their beds, eyes still heavy with the warm cling of sleep, I have to wonder if perhaps my place should be back in that square beside my battle sisters, bleeding to death from ruptured organs and shattered bones. 

[jawritter]

The Arrangement

Part 9

Summery: You are a young girl that was raised in a small church in Dallas, TX. One of the only churches left in the state that still practices arranged marriages. When your betrothed ran off to California you thought you'd escape the fate you were trained for ever since a small child. Now upon the death your parents your fate seemed to be inescapable as he's returned, and is ready to take you as his bride.

Book Warnings: Arranged marriage, loss of virginity, smut, unprotected sex, angst, language, suicide attempt, battles with anxiety, struggles with mental illness, age gap (about 11 years), I think that’s it, chapters will have warnings of their own!

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Jared is an asshole in this fic, but He has his reasons, language, insecure reader, sheltered reader, scared reader, protective Jensen, I think that’s pretty much it.

Word Count: 3106

A/N: This book is a book about Christian and church based arranged marriages, I would like to take this moment to say that I DO NOT have ANYTHING against the Chirstian faith, and mean absolutely no harm to anyone! Especially Jensen’s family! This is a complete work of fiction, and should be treated as such!

Beta’d by the amazing @deanwanddamons who was awesome enough to do all this for me! It was a lot of work, and she deserves all the praise for it!!

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Want More? Check Out My Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

It was a quiet ride over to Jared's house. 

Even though it wasn't that far from where Jensen and yourself were staying, it seemed like the drive over took forever, and then didn't last long enough all at the same time. Your stomach did nervous flips the whole way there, and your mind traveled to the worst scenario over and over again.

What if Jensen's friends hated you? What if it angered Jensen that they didn't accept you? What if he wanted to take you back to Dallas because you weren't good enough to fit into his lifestyle?

You didn't know how to do this. You didn't know how to function outside of the church world that you grew up in  with your family.This was all new to you. So far Jensen had been more patient with you than you expected him to ever be, but you didn’t   know how much more slack he was willing to grant you. 

He had only tried to have sex with you once  since you where married, which made you think he must not have been that impressed with you. 

Sure, the day after your wedding night, he’d taken a shower with you, and his hands weren’t shy about wandering, but he said he didn’t want to hurt you, because he knew you had to be sore.

Then there was your little interruption this morning, effectively putting a halt into your extracurricular activities. 

Other than that, he’d not really shown any interest in touching that way, aside from cuddling.

Needless to say, you had a whole lot of insecurities going on right now.  Anxiety that Jensen didn't  know that you fought against gnawing away at the corners of your consciousness. You focused on breathing as you stared at the scenery flying by you out of the car window. 

Austin wasn't quite as big as Dallas, but it was much more appealing. It was livelier almost, less businesslike. It had  its own little personality centered around art and a culture that fascinated you. 

Turning off the main road, Jensen began to make his way up the long driveway that would inevitably lead you to the front of Jared's house. Closing your eyes you started to count backwards, and focus more on your breathing to calm you down . You hadn't noticed that your hands were visibly trembling, but Jensen had. 

Reaching over from the driver's seat, he grabbed one of your hands that you had folded in your lap and squeezed it, making your eyes snap open. He'd stopped the car in front of a large, beautiful house with a well manicured lawn, and grounds surrounding it. 

"Hey, everything okay? Are you feeling okay?" he asked, eyes searching you. 

He looked genuinely worried about you, but you couldn't trouble him with your anxiety issues, so you shoved it down even though you felt that familiar feeling of the tightening in your chest, and smiled at him. 

"Yeah. Just nervous." you tell him. 

Pulling you as close to him as he could in the car, he pecks you on the check, causing a blush to rise up to where his lips had just been, and sending a warm feeling all the way through your body, effectively driving away some of the anxiety and fear. 

"Everything is going to be just fine. We don't have to be here long, they just want to meet you. They're a little worried about me. I divorced Danneel and then appeared with you. That's not exactly something normal people do, you know." 

You nodded your head and didn't say a word. That's what you were worried about. You'd been so secluded for so long that you really didn't know how to act like 'normal' people, or at least normal as they classified it. 

Jensen opened his mouth to say something else, when a hand reached up and knocked on the driver side window making you both jump. 

"Jared, you scared the shit out of me." Jensen yelled, jerking the door open, and looking up at the extremely tall man with long hair and a beard oddly resembling Jesus.

Jensen walked around the car as you opened the door, and took your hand as you got out of it, shutting the door for you as the tall man approached the car.

"Jared, this is my wife,Y/N. Y/N, this is my best friend Jared, and that little woman hiding behind him over there is his wife Gen." 

"Hi", was all you could manage in a quiet voice, looking down at the ground more than making eye contact with either of the two people in front of you. You wanted desperately to hide behind Jensen’s tall form, but you knew that wouldn’t be exactly acceptable behavior, and you didn’t want to make your husband look bad. 

"Hi Y/N, It's nice to finally meet you!!" Gen said, running up and pulling you into a hug you didn't expect, but returned after a moment. Jared only nodded at you, then turned the conversation back to Jensen that you didn’t  hear. Your nerves were too high to pay that much attention, but you were pretty sure they were talking about a car of some sort that Jensen was supposed to be getting.

"So, are you guys going to stick around for dinner tonight? It should be ready in about thirty minutes! We're having enchiladas Jensen!!" Gen said, bouncing over to him, throwing her arm and round his neck like they'd always known each other. 

You'd be a liar if you said you didn't feel more than a little bit out of place, and you weren’t sure how you felt about this stranger , just running up to Jensen and throwing her arms around his neck. You were always taught to keep your distance from married men.

"Sure, how can I turn down free food." Jensen said, giving Gen a wink, and a pang of jealousy slapped you right in the gut when he did so. She seemed totally unaffected by his actions, smacking him in his chest with her hand before walking off into the house.

"Where are the kids?" Jensen asked Jared who was watching you closely, but still hadn't addressed you directly. 

"They are with my parents for the weekend. Why don't you guys come inside?" he said, leading the way into the large, very well and tastefully decorated house. 

As you followed the men into the sitting room, your fingers laced with Jensen's, staying as close to him as possible, but keeping quiet and your head down. 

You both sat down on the little leather loveseat in the room across from the couch that Jared sat down on. Jensen pulled you close to him and wrapped your arm tightly around you.

Gen appeared with a tray of beers and a bottle of wine with two glasses on it, putting it down on the table, and pouring wine into the two empty glasses handing you one before the boys could grab a beer.

"So,Y/N., Why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself?" Jared said a little louder than he had to in the small space, making you look up from the glass in your hand at the man sitting across from you as Gen took a seat next to him.

"There's not a whole lot to tell." you tell him in a quiet voice, and that wasn't a lie. Your whole life has revolved around the church, and your family. You had neither anymore. Jensen had moved you to Austin, so the church was out, and you lost your family.

"Oh come on. There's got to be something. Hobbies, interests? The reason why you jumped up and agreed to  marry a man that's 11 years your senior?" he said, a little sharply. 

You looked at Jensen a little panicked, and Gen grabbed Jared's arm, giving him a stern look. 

Jensen pulled you tighter into his hold, before looking over at his friend. 

"Y/N wasn't raised like you were Jared. She doesn't quite know how to respond to your question, or your demeanor for that matter." 

He took your wine glass from your hand that you had yet to take a drink from, and sat it on the coffee table in front of you.

"Y/N and I were in the same church. We were supposed to be married when she turned 18. By the time she turned 18, I was already in California, and had left the church. She doesn't know life outside of that place, and her family. She doesn't understand speaking so directly to her unless you are  her father, husband, or pastor. She doesn't drink.She has grown up highly sheltered. I'm not saying that, that is right; though I am asking you to mind your tone of voice with my wife. She's still learning and adjusting to life away from that place, and I expect you to treat her with the same respect as you show me, as well as being a little patient."

Jared looked down at this lap for a moment like a scolded child. Jensen definitely had the whole alpha male personality that other men seemed to pick up on right away. You didn't know if it was the deep tone in his voice, or that even though he was thin he was solid. His broad chest and shoulders made him look like a force to be reckoned with, and if he wanted to, he could hurt someone. 

"I'm sorry.I'm just worried about you man, you know that." Jared said, directly addressing Jensen now. 

"Like I told you on the phone, there is no need to be worried. Y/N didn't come looking for me to take advantage of my money, or become famous. I went looking for her after I found out what Danneel did to me. I wanted to do what I should have done all those years ago, and marry the woman I was meant to marry, so that's what I did. If you don't want to understand that, or have a problem with it, that’s your own affair, but you will not take your misunderstood feelings out on my wife Jared, I won't allow it. Respect my wife as you do me, and if you call yourself my friend, you will respect my decisions." 

Jared shook his head, glancing between you and Jensen. Gen was watching you closely not saying a word. 

"I'm sure the food is almost done. Y/N, would you like to come help me make up a salad and get the plates ready?" 

You definitely wanted an excuse to get away from Jared, and out of the tense atmosphere. Cooking and place setting was something you could do, and knew how to do it well, so you looked up and Jensen for permission. 

He nodded his head to you, and loosened his grip on your shoulders as Gen stood, and you followed her into the expansive kitchen, grateful to be away from the tenseness of the room you were just sitting in.

Jensen's POV:

"The fuck is wrong with you? Why did you attack her like that? She has said nothing to you, nor has she done anything to you.There's no reason for you to be so harsh towards her." Jensen said, taking down the rest of his beer in one swig.

"Sorry Jay, I just don't trust her. Her family probably just sent her here to milk...."

Jensen threw his hand up to stop Jared in his tracks.

"Jared!! That's enough! Her families dead. They died two days before I went to claim her. This was my choice, my idea. I chose her. She has never done anything wrong, she's not a gold digger, and I would appreciate it if you would stop being a dick."

Jared looked over at his friend coldy, taking a deep breath, trying to keep his temper under control. 

"Jensen. Do you even have a 'real' marriage with that woman? I mean you say she's been sheltered and all that shit. I mean she probably can't even fu..." 

Jensen got to his feet, knowing where this conversation was going, and it was quickly pissing him off. He had heard all of the shit he could stomach. He thought Jared was his brother, his best friend, why was he being so hateful to Y/N when she'd never done a single thing to him?

"To answer your question, that really is none of your business. She's perfectly capable of performing in a satisfactory manner as far as a physical marriage is concerned. She and I have consummated our marriage if you must know. She's just as much my wife as Gen is yours.”

Jensen shoved his hands through his hair harshly before reaching down, and grabbing his phone from the coffee table where he’d sat it a few moments ago. 

“I've had enough of this. I'm getting my wife and going home."

Before Jared could stand to stop him, Gen poked her head around the door. 

"Okay boys, dinners ready!"

"Okay” they said in unison. 

Jensen turned to look at Jared, giving him a death glare. 

"One word out of line towards my wife, and we're leaving, do you understand me?" Jensen said. Jared looked down at the ground like a scolded child, knowing he'd overstepped his boundaries, and it was going to take quite a bit of making up to Jensen before he’d forgive me. He was just worried about his friends well being. This was all very strange to Jared. 

Your POV:

You were standing at the counter, putting the finishing touches on the salad you'd been busy making since you entered the kitchen, grateful for something to do with your hands to keep yourself busy. Placing the utensils into the salad bowl, you passed the bowl to Gen as she reentered the kitchen with you, leading the way into the dinning room.

"The boys are headed into the dinning room." she said, over her shoulder. 

She seemed like a nice person, someone you would probably be able to make friends with. Her husband on the other hand, hated you and that made your chest ache a little. 

You were shocked when Jensen had stood up for you before Gen brought you into the kitchen to help her prepare the rest of the food and set the table. 

You expected him to side with the other man in the room, though you didn't know what Jared may have convinced him about you when you were away in the kitchen just now, and it made you nervous, the fact that Jared may have made Jensen see his side of things, making Jensen want to take you back to Dallas. 

Jared and Jensen were sitting down in their chairs as you and Gen entered the room, sitting the salad down on the table. 

"Okay everyone dig in!!" she said, taking her seat next to Jared. 

You found it odd that Jensen and Jared grabbed empty plates, and started to fix their own food. You were always raised in the custom that the wives fixed the men's plates first. Then the children, then themselves. Though there were no children here tonight, it was odd to watch them fix their own food. 

Grabbing a plate of your own, you fixed a very small portion of food onto your plate, mimicking Jensen's. He had barely put any food on his plate , and seemed very tense when you took your seat next to him. It seemed he was ready to go, and didn’t want to hang around much longer, which you couldn't help but hope you were right on that account. 

Two hours later everyone had ate, and the kitchen was cleaned up between yourself and Gen. She was pretty easy to talk to, and seemed to know her way around the kitchen. Jensen and Jared stayed sitting at the table, talking tensely about Jared's new role that he'd picked up that was due to film in Austin. 

They were sitting silently when you reentered the dining room.Jensen looked up at you hopefully, and then back at Jared.

"Well, it's getting late, we need to get going. Gen dinner was great, thanks for everything." 

Before either of them could really respond to him Jensen had grabbed your hand, and started making his way toward the door. 

"Well it was nice to meet you Y/N! Let's get together, and get our nails done some time or something." she said as you reached the porch with Jensen, his hand wrapped tightly around yours. You just smiled and nodded at her, not knowing if Jensen would be okay with that or not. 

Once you had reached the car, Jensen opened the door for you, and you slid inside. You were so glad for that to be over. You could tell that didn't go as planned for Jensen. He was hoping Jared would have accepted you, and for some reason he obviously did not. 

Once he was back on the main highway headed toward home, he looked over at you and took your hand once again in his. 

"You okay, sweetheart?" 

"Yeah, I’m okay, I'm sorry your friend doesn't like me." you said quietly, looking down, ashamed into your lap, hoping and praying that Jensen wasn't too angry with you.

"Don't worry about him, he will get used to you. This is just all new to him." 

Picking your hand up to his lips, he kissed the back of your hand lightly, eyes still focused on the road, and his shoulders tense.

"Let's get you home, get showered, and crawl into our bed and die for the night. It's been a long day." Jensen said, suppressing a yawn. You didn't realize how long you had been at Jared's; it was almost midnight, the streets in Austin much calmer from lack of traffic. 

Relief  flooded you as you looked back out the window, watching the lights of the city speed by you in a blur against the dark sky. He wasn't going to send you away after all, or at least he didn’t seem so angry that he didn’t want to sleep in the same bed as you, so maybe you didn’t mess this up to bad.

Exhaustion hit you like a freight train the closer you got to home. It has been a stressful day for you. Tomorrow you would try harder to be a better wife for Jensen. He deserved so much more than you'd been giving him, and you were determined to make him happy.

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Tag List: @deanwanddamons​ @imabitch4jensen​ @rvgrsbrns​ @bi-danvers0​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @i-love-superhero​ @akshi8278​ @lyss-dw79​ @magssteenkamp​ @lemondropirwin​ @squirrelnotsam​ @hobby27​ @spnbaby-67​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @defenderrosetyler​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @thecreatiivecorner​  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624​ @busy-bee-angel-misska​ @justanotherwinchester​ @brilovesdeanwinchester​ @idksupernatural​ @lyarr24​ @amandamdiehl​

[shakespeareanwannabe]

Protective Instincts

Santiago Pope Garcia x F!OC

Summary: After everything he’s done, Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia can’t fathom the idea of bringing a child into the world. But sometimes, life doesn’t work out exactly as you’ve planned. *Based off of some wonderful headcanons written by @darksideofclarke*

Warnings: Pregnancy fic (so if you’re not into that, please don’t read), swearing, reference to smut (but it’s only like one line), references to blood, death (of adults and children), and PTSD

A/N: Hi everyone! So this is my first fanfic post on Tumblr (I have an active account on ff.net, and if anyone is interested in reading that, I can send you my account name). I really enjoyed writing for Pope, it was really nice to spread my wings outside of the Supernatural fandom, so please let me know if you enjoyed this, because I’ve got so many ideas for how to turn it into a series. Hope you enjoy! And let me know if you want to be tagged in any future chapters that come out.

15 steps to the left.

Stop.

Turn.

15 steps to the left.

Stop.

Turn.

Repeat until the worries of the mind and the heaviness of the heart disappears.

“Hey, baby, I’m home!” Pope’s voice calls out, causing Rebecca’s steady steps to stumble.

“How can I face him? How can I tell him?” her mind anguished.

She found herself stopped in front of their large bay window, staring out into the street as her wonderful, loving boyfriend walked up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, not noticing how she flinched as he hands come to rest on top of her still soft stomach and planted a gentle kiss on her neck.

“How was your day?” he questioned, seemingly content with the picture of domestic bliss that they undoubtedly made, as he nuzzled his nose in between her shoulder blades.

“It was fine,” she murmured quietly, folding her arms around her chest.

Pope shifted, his nose gently brushing her ear as he twisted to look at her profile.

“What happened?”

What had happened? How could she answer that when every molecule in her body was seemingly at war with each other? When her heart was rejoicing but the tiniest voice in the back of her mind was throwing up red flags because they had never talked about this before and she had no clue how he was going to react? When every instinct inside of her was screaming ‘protect’ and every emotion was yelling ‘share’?

“I…I think we should sit.”

Pope felt his heart stutter but nodded as he gently led her to the couch. Was this the moment he had been dreading? Was this when karma kicked in and took away the best thing that had ever happened to him?

“Bex, please…” he kept his hand on her thigh as they settled next to each other on the leather couch. “Are you okay?” Hesitantly, she nodded, and Pope sighed with relief. “What’s going on, baby?”

She shifted slightly, pulling away from his hand and playing with her fingers in her lap. “Umm…you know how I haven’t been feeling great the past week or so?”

He nodded, leaning forward. “Yeah, did you go to the doctor today like I asked?”

He had had to beg her to go. She had insisted that it was just the flu, probably coupled with her oncoming period in the next couple of days. She usually felt like shit when that time of the month rolled around, but the constant vomiting had been new, so he had pleaded with her daily for the last four days to go to the doctor. In hindsight, she had been resistant because she had a sneaking suspicion, but, again, her instincts had been at war with each other.

“Yeah, I went…” It wasn’t until her breathing hitched and Santiago lifted his hand to brush away a tear that she even realized she was crying.

“Baby…” Rebecca looked up and met Santi’s dark eyes. She could read the fear reflected in them and it only made her feel worse. Her sweet, burdened man had fought a war, lost friends, and here she was, scaring him in the comfort of his own home.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted, wanting to see that worry washed away from his expression.

Instead, she saw the walls slam up in his eyes.

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

Pope had the unfortunate experience of being too close to an explosive as it detonated. He’d felt the shrapnel dig itself into his body, felt the heat burn his skin, but, for Pope, the worst part was the ringing in his ears. When the dull sound of tinnitus overtook everything. He’d had men, friends, best friends, screaming in his face but had been unable to hear them. The roar of the fire and the scream of bullets flying sounded like he was hearing them from deep underwater, Catfish could be hollering in his ear that they had to move, but he couldn’t make out the words.

“I’m pregnant…” Rebecca blurted, hesitantly glancing back and forth between his face and her lap.

Now, he was sure that she kept talking. Hell, he could see her lips moving. But the words…they weren’t reaching him. Everything was white noise, he was moving through water, the scar on the back of his neck started to burn.

One thing the military had taught Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia was how to listen to his instincts. He was a damn good leader, he had a loyal crew of men who depended on him and had his back, and that was partially because his instincts were usually pretty spot on. If that feeling in his gut told him to stop, they stopped. If it told him to run, he was dragging his team alongside him at a dead sprint. If it told him to shoot, he shot.

Now, his fight or flight was telling him one thing.

Pope rose from the couch, his eyes just skating past Rebecca’s panicked expression, his brain not really absorbing any new information, like how her lips were moving in a repetitive pattern.

“Santi…Pope…Santiago…Please…Santi…Pope…Santiago…Please…”

His ears were ringing, but his eyes knew her lips well enough to understand, even if that information wasn’t making it to his brain.

Wordlessly, emotionlessly, almost lifelessly, Pope paced to the front door, shrugged on his leather jacket, donned his sunglasses, pulled his keys out of his pocket.

Open the door. One step over the doorframe.

Turn.

Close the door. Lock it.

Five stairs. Fifteen paces.

Unlock car. Get in. Key in ignition. Seatbelt on.

Start car. Shift gears. Peddle on the right.

Drive.

Santiago had no destination in mind, no plan. For once, the man with a plan had no plan.

“I’m pregnant…”

He felt the whizz of a bullet flying by his cheek.

“I’m pregnant…”

The blood of a civilian spurted through his fingers as he tried to put pressure on the wound.

“I’m pregnant…”

The bodies of kids lined up outside of a village that had just been bombed, that they hadn’t gotten there in time to save.

“I’m pregnant…”

“I’m pregnant…”

“I’m pregnant…”

Every echo of Bex’s voice brought a new memory.

Car bombs exploding in Afghanistan.

The numerous deaths of innocent civilians in Iraq.

The countless executions of sicarios in Colombia by the police force.

Tom and the complete fuck up that he had led his friends into.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

Pope looked down for a split second and saw Rebecca’s photo lighting up his screen.

It was a photo they had taken on the Fourth of July. He had taken her out to Will’s cabin out in the middle of the woods, deep enough that none of the seasoned veterans would be able to hear the fireworks exploding overhead. She had spider-monkeyed her way around him as he sat on a log next to the campfire, arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs around his waist, and chest pressed tightly up against his back, and when Benny had seen the way he had smiled at her over his shoulder, he had snapped the photo with his phone.

For a split second, Pope was torn. Did he cave to the guilt that was starting to gnaw at his gut and answer the phone? Did he shut his phone off so he wouldn’t have to hear the rattling sound in his cupholder? In the end, he did neither.

His instincts were driving him to continue down the road, and his heart wouldn’t let him shut off his phone, so he ignored it. He knew she would begin to panic if his phone sent her straight to voicemail but leaving it on allowed her the peace of mind to know that he would answer…eventually. When he was ready.

Pope didn’t pay any attention to his dashboard clock, nor did he pay any mind to the sun that was slowly crawling its way across the sky. He knew hours had passed, he knew that Bex was calling him every ten minutes or so, and he knew that the emptiness of the road and the repetitive hum of the tires below him was soothing his mind.

When his truck dinged, alerting him to the news that his truck had about ten miles left before it ran out of gas, he pulled over, stopped, and refilled the tank with what was left in his gas can before continuing.

He paid attention to the traffic and to the periodic buzzing of his phone, that was it.

Hours passed, his phone buzzing every ten minutes like clockwork until the sun hung low in the sky. Until his phone stopped buzzing.

At the first ten minute mark when his phone didn’t buzz and his and Bex’s smiling faces didn’t appear on his screen, approximately six hours into his drive and approximately around the time when Pope realized he had been driving in circles for at least the last four, he glanced down to make sure that his phone hadn’t died.

Ten minutes after that, he pulled onto a farm road, slowing to a stop on the side of the dirt road. His heart was racing as though he had been running for the past six hours, and he couldn’t understand why.

13 minutes after that, his phone came to life again, a pixelated likeness of Catfish’s face appearing in the dimming light of the sunset. Bex was in that photo too, Frankie pressing a kiss to her cheek while winking at Pope behind the camera.

Pope sighed and cleared his throat, hoping to convey a lightheartedness when he greeted, “Hey Fish, what’s goin’ on?”

Pope heard a screen door slam shut as Frankie growled, “Estúpido hijo de puta.”

Pope pulled the phone away from his ear, making sure it was actually Catfish calling and not some crank call. “Frankie?”

“Santi, do you want to tell me why I’m here with your hysterical girlfriend and you’re not?”

Pope felt his heart sink in his chest. “Fish, I—”

“Bex nearly gave me a goddamn heart attack when she called,” Frankie talked over him. “Sobbing so hard she couldn’t get the words out. I gunned it over to your place thinking you had been kidnapped or something, man. Had an SOS text ready to send to Benny and Will, only to find out that you had just left and you weren’t answering her calls. What the fuck, Pope?”

Pope stepped out of his truck and leaned back against the door, staring out at the reds and purples and golds of the sunset.

“…she’s pregnant, man.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And?” Pope wrenched himself away from the truck and began pacing up and down the abandoned stretch of road. “And I don’t know how the fuck to be a father! I don’t know how to raise a kid to be a benefit to society and not a colossal fuck up! After all the shit I’ve done, all the blood on my hands?” Pope took a shaky, shuddery breath, pressing the phone up to his forehead as he wished he could keep it together. He shouldn’t be saying anything. He should bury all the shit so deep down it never sees the light of day. He should, but it was also Frankie Morales he was talking to. His ride or die since day one. The guy who, no matter what was happening, always gave it to him straight. The brain behind Pope’s brawn.

“What gives me the right, Frankie?” Pope mumbled as he brought the phone back to his ear. “I’ve killed people…I’ve gotten people killed…I’ve let people die…That kid is gonna come into the world all innocent, take one look at me, and see a killer. H—How am I supposed to raise a kid when I can barely keep my own shit together half the time?”

The line was silent for a long time, and Pope helplessly dashed at the water that had pooled in his eyes.

“No sé cómo hacer esto, hermano,” he whispered.

Finally, he heard the telltale rasp of Frankie running his hand over his face. “Chill the fuck out, bro,” Frankie told him in a voice that somehow managed to be both soothing and commanding. “Holding that kid will be the best thing you ever do in your life. The only thing that makes all of the shit worth it.”

“But—”

“No buts, Pope. You wanna know how you’re gonna raise that kid? You’re not,” he said simply. “You and Bex are gonna raise that kid together. You’re gonna make mistakes, and screw up, and so will she, but as long as you’re there, and you love that kid hard, and you actually give a shit, then you’re gonna be leaps and bounds above half the dickheads out there that call themselves dads.” Pope squeezed his eyes shut to stop the tears that were threatening to roll down his cheeks. He didn’t know if Frankie knew that his partner and friend was tearing up in the middle of nowhere, but he also knew that Frankie (and Bex) were probably the only two people on the planet who wouldn’t give him shit for it.

He just couldn’t help it. Six hours ago, his world had exploded, and now Frankie was helping him put it together piece by painful piece. Worst of all was how badly Pope wanted to believe him. He wanted to believe that the kid would make all the bullshit he had gone through worth it, but he didn’t dare imagine it. It was too good to be true. He was too broken, too beaten down to make a good father.

“Listen man,” Frankie grunted, and Pope’s keen ears picked up a shuffle in the background that told him Frankie had sat down somewhere. “I’ve got the same blood and shit on my hands that you do. Worse, even, if you consider that mess I got myself into without you. Does that make me a bad dad?”

Pope was already shaking his head. After the mess in Colombia, after Yovanna had decided that he wasn’t worth her time, Pope had come home and settled a few blocks over from where Frankie and his fiancée at the time (now his wife), Charlotte, had settled down. Pope had seen Frankie with his son, Mateo, more times than he could count.

“Frankie—”

“Exactly. And considering where my head was at when Charlie told me she had a bun in the oven, I shoulda been. I could’ve messed that kid up bad…I thought I would, but I didn’t.” Frankie sighed again, and Pope could visualize him scratching at his facial hair. “Santi, bringing that kid into the world is the only thing that’ll make up for all of the shit. Believe me.”

Because it was Frankie, his right-hand man, his best friend, Pope allowed himself to hope. He allowed himself to close his eyes and imagine it. A little baby nestled in his arms, curling up against his chest like he hadn’t killed countless people. Dark eyes looking up at him the way their mother looked at him, with love and kindness, like he didn’t have blood on his hands. A chance to do some good in the world, to bring some light into his life. A chance to raise a kid who could be better than he ever was. Who wouldn’t tear the world down in a storm of bullets and bombs, but maybe, just maybe, build it back up with smiles and love.

Pope choked back a sob. “Frankie, I fucked up.”

“Nah, hermano,” Frankie chuckled. “Your girl loves you. The only way you can fuck up now is if you don’t come home. Then, I’m morally obligated to hunt you down and castrate you.”

Pope chuckled a watery laugh as he climbed back into the cab of his truck. “I’m on my way now.”

“Good, my ass is getting cold from sitting on your front steps,” Frankie laughed.

Pope laughed again, a real laugh this time. “Go home, cabrón.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who has some major ass kissing to do, jackass.”

Pope waited as he could hear Frankie getting into his car. “Seriously, man. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it, bro,” Pope heard Frankie’s car start in the background. “Just fix it.”

“I will.”

“Oh, and I call godfather!”

Pope laughed as he hung up and sped down the road. If he kept on this road and obeyed the speed limit, he could make it home in half an hour. He was determined to make it home in twenty.

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

It may have been the worst parking job Pope had ever done, with half the car parked on the grass, half on the asphalt, the back end blocking most of the sidewalk, and a few inches between his rear, driver’s side tire and the back end of Rebecca’s car, but he didn’t care. The jovial spirit that had overtaken him at the tail-end of his chat with Frankie had vanished as he got closer and closer to home. He needed to see his girl. He needed to make things right.

He waved as the lights on Frankie’s minivan flashed twice before pulling away from the curb across the street, grateful that his friend had stayed until he had gotten home, and jogged up to the front door, quietly unlocking it and stepping into the silent house.

The lights in the living room were off. As Pope stumbled over the jumble of shoes at the front door, he caught sight of the pile of tissues sitting on the coffee table and felt his heart sink and those tears he had been choking back fight their way up his throat again.

A dull light shone from behind the kitchen door, and Pope tentatively approached it, pressing gently at the swinging door to take a peek inside.

When he caught sight of her, his heart shattered inside his chest.

He’d always thought Rebecca was beautiful, from the second he had caught sight of her at the physiotherapy clinic. Drenched in sweat and red-faced, that had been his first impression of her, but her smile and the playful glint in her eyes had bewitched him in an instant.

He’d seen her dressed to the nines, looking like she’d stepped out of one of those fashion magazines that she kept in her bedside table. He’d seen her in sweats after a day of cleaning house. He’d seen her naked as the day she was born, whimpering and moaning as he painted her chest with his cum. She’d always been beautiful. Stunning, gorgeous.

Even now, Pope had to acknowledge the melancholic beauty that surrounded her. The remnants of tears that clung to her eyelashes, the blotchy red patches that stained her skin, the weariness that tugged her whole body down until she was slumped in her seat at the kitchen table, feet propped up in his seat, her phone just barely visible from where he stood, propped up against her bent legs, one elbow laid across her knees while the other arm was bearing the weight of her head, hand cushioned in the sleeve of her oversized white sweater.

“Baby…” he murmured, pushing his way into the kitchen and standing in the low light cast by the lamp in the center of the table.

It took her a moment, but she finally looked up, tears welling back up in her red-rimmed eyes as she gasped out a sob at the very sight of him.

Whatever had been holding Pope up until that point – call it stubbornness, call it pride, call it resolution – dissolved at that sob.

One step.

Two steps.

His knees hit the hardwood floor as he choked out a sob, tears finally spilling down his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he cried as he buried his face into Rebecca’s thighs. “I’m so, so sorry…”

He didn’t know how long he knelt there, tears turning her pale blue jeans dark, pain radiating from his knees, up to his neck and throughout his limbs, voice growing hoarse as he repeated the words again and again and again.

Finally, finally, Pope felt that touch of grace as she slowly, gingerly raised her hand and began to carefully card it through his thick salt-and-pepper curls. Her touch of kindness only served to make him cry harder as he raised his head and gazed upon her tear-stained face.

“I’m so sorry, mi alma,” he rasped, shuffling forward until his forehead was pressed into her lower belly, where the life they had created together was just beginning to grow. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into the small band of skin that was revealed where her sweater had ridden up.

After what felt like hours, Pope stirred, slowly peeling himself off the floor to stand in front of her. With a hopeful look in his eyes, he extended his hand to her and prayed to a god he wasn’t sure he believed in that she would take it.

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

Rebecca eyed his extended hand suspiciously. Part of her wanted to slap it away, scream at him for the anguish he had put her through the past few hours, and make him sleep on the couch until the baby was born. But the other part of her, the part that could see the tremor in his arms and legs as he stood there and the pleading look in his eyes and the deep lines that were etched in his forehead, that part of her coaxed her into gently unfolding from her curled up position and taking his hand.

Gently, Santiago helped her to her feet and led her out of the kitchen, down the hall and into their bedroom. She stood there in the doorway as he moved around the room, dropping his black t-shirt and dark jeans into the hamper, placing his watch on his nightstand, and plugging his phone into the charger, until he stopped by her side of the bed, tugging the covers down and looking at her with that same pleading gaze.

Slowly, hesitantly, she followed his lead, stripping down to her bra and panties and sliding under the covers that he was holding up for her. In a flash, Santiago slid into his side of the bed and pulled her tightly to him, her back to his chest with one of his hands gently cradling her still flat belly.

As he pressed a gentle kiss to her bare shoulder, she couldn’t help the shuddery, teary gasp of that one word that had been at the forefront of her mind since he had shut the door in her face and locked it behind him: “Why?”

Rebecca heard him sigh, a long, weary breath out that spoke of exhaustion and trauma.

“When you told me…everything just kind of shut down. All I could think of was to protect.”

“Protect who?”

She felt him shrug. “Protect myself. Protect you from me and all my bullshit. Protect the baby from the fuck up they have as a father.”

“Santi…” she whispered mournfully. “You know I don’t—”

“I know,” he interjected before clearing his throat. “It’s just…I’ve done some really bad things in my life, Bex. I’m not a good person,” he continued in a whisper. “You know some of the stuff that I’ve done, but most of it is so classified I doubt I’ll ever be allowed to talk about it. And I don’t want to. I don’t want you to ever hear about it. So, when you told me we were having a baby, my mind just kind of shut down. All I could think of was how many people I’ve killed; how much blood is on my hands.”

He trailed off as a dark silence loomed over the room.

“You scared me…” she finally whispered.

He chuckled darkly as he rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I scared myself,” he admitted. “I just…I couldn’t imagine how any good could come out of this. I…” he paused, and Rebecca rolled over to face him, watching his Adam’s apple work in his throat. “I don’t deserve to be a dad, Bex.”

She nodded, tears springing to her eyes again at his admittance. She wished he could see what she saw. He was good with kids. So good with them. Watching him with Frankie’s son Mateo was one of the most adorable sights she had ever seen. He would be such a good father. But…she couldn’t force it on him. She knew he had baggage, knew it when she met him, but things had been so good between them that she had hoped they would be okay.

“I…uh, I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to do, Santi,” she murmured, desperately trying to keep the tears out of her voice. “You can be as involved or—”

“Oh baby, no. No, no, shh…” he pulled her into his chest, banding his arms tightly around her back until her head was nestled into his shoulder and his face was buried in her hair. “I’m gonna be better, okay? I swear to god, I’m gonna be better for you and this kid. I called Will on the drive home, and he’s gonna help me find a group to talk to about all this. I can’t promise it won’t happen again but I’m gonna fight as hard as I can to be there for you one hundred percent.” He peeled his face away from her neck and angled himself to look directly into her eyes, their noses almost touching. “I’ll read all the parenting books and go to any and all classes you sign us up for. I’m gonna be there for every appointment. I’ll learn how to give massages if you need me to rub your feet or your back, and I’ll go out for any cravings you might have, even if I have to drive all the way across town at 3 o’clock in the morning.” Tears began pooling in her eyes again, except this time there was a small smile on her face. “When the baby comes, I’ll do whatever you want me to do. You can break my hand if you need to during labor. If you want it to just be us, it’ll just be us. If you want a whole damn camera crew there to document the whole thing, I’ll make it happen.” He pulled her closer and cupped her face in his hands. “I’m gonna get a good job, baby. No more side jobs, no more private sector. I’ll take whatever 9 to 5 I can find to help take care of us. Hell, I’ll take two jobs if you want to be a stay at home mom. Or, if you want, I’ll stay at home with the kid. Whatever you want to do, we’ll do it.”

Finally, Rebecca laughed as happy tears streamed down her face. “You’re rambling, babe.”

Pope laughed too, a happy, relieved sound as he pressed his lips to hers for the first time that evening. “I know, I know,” he whispered, wiping her tears away with his fingertips. “I just need you to know that I’m all in. Whatever you want, whatever you need. Whatever this kid needs. I’m here. I’m gonna be a dick sometimes, and I’m gonna make mistakes, and I’m gonna be so far out of my league between you and this kid, but I’m gonna be here. I swear to god.”

Rebecca giggled, pulling her hand from his chest to play with the grey baby curls at the back of his neck. “That’s all we need,” she whispered as she pulled him closer to plant a sweet, loving kiss on his lips. She pulled back and ran a fond hand over his cheek. “Just promise me, next time this happens, you let me know. Just a word or a gesture or something?”

Pope nodded, ashamed of his actions. He was always the first to go in, guns blazing, no thought to his own safety if it meant protecting his team. But the second he found out about the baby, he had left his most important teammate behind to fend for herself.

“I promise, baby. And I’m so sorry…” he nuzzled into her cheek and pressed a gentle kiss to her dimple.

She smiled at him as she rolled over and rested her head on his bicep. “We’re gonna be okay, babe,” she yawned, her eyes drifting closed after the emotional day she had had.

Pope nestled in behind her, not leaving an inch of space between them. Lying there, happy with the woman he loved in his arms, Pope took a deep breath and allowed himself to drift off, her words echoing in his mind. They would be okay. He’d make sure of it.  

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