#and I can't help but feel bitter about it

[jupiterpilgrim]

The Elf Who Couldn't Help

Christmas Special 🎄

Miyeon x Male Reader

word count: 5K

You're wandering through the crowded mall, Christmas music blasting from every direction as you try to check off the last few items on your shopping list. The usual holiday chaos surrounds you - parents dragging screaming kids, teenagers hogging the benches, old people walking too damn slow. Just another December afternoon.

That's when you spot the Santa's workshop setup near the food court. There's a long-ass line of hyper children waiting to sit on Santa's lap, but what catches your eye is his helper elf. She's this tiny Asian girl in a green costume that looks about two sizes too big, desperately trying to wrangle the kids into some kind of order.

"Please stay in line! One at a time!" Her voice is high and stressed as a group of boys completely ignores her, ducking under the rope barriers.

You can't help but chuckle at how overwhelmed she looks. The elf costume is ridiculous - striped tights, pointy shoes with bells, and a hat that keeps sliding down over her eyes. But there's something endearing about how hard she's trying, even as chaos erupts around her.

And she's undeniably adorable too.

"Fucking hell," you mutter under your breath as another kid breaks free from the line, causing even more chaos. The girl's shoulders slump in defeat as she tries to restore order. This will definitely be a long day for the poor thing.

You continue with your shopping, but find yourself passing by the Santa setup a few more times. Each time, the poor elf looks more and more frazzled. Her dark hair is escaping from under the hat, her cheeks are flushed, and she's practically jogging to keep up with all the line-cutting kids.

"Please, one at a time!" the elf girl pleads, her voice cracking slightly. You notice dark circles under her eyes as you walk past.

After finishing up your shopping, you head to your car feeling accomplished. That's when your phone buzzes - a text from your mother saying your cousin - yes, that cousin - decided last-minute to join Christmas dinner.

Fuck.

Now you need another gift.

With a sigh, you trudge back into the mall. The Santa setup is gone now, packed away for the night. You quickly grab a generic gift card (he's not worth much effort anyway) and head back to the parking lot.

That's when you hear it - soft sniffling coming from between two cars. You pause, keys in hand. The sound continues, clearly someone crying. Following the noise, you find a small figure curled up against a tire, wearing that ridiculous elf costume.

"Hey... are you okay?" You ask gently.

She jerks up with a gasp, hastily wiping her eyes. It's the same elf from earlier, but her makeup is smeared and her eyes are red and puffy.

"I'm fine!" She squeaks, trying to force a smile. "Just... just taking a break!"

You raise an eyebrow. "In the parking lot? At night?"

She deflates slightly. "Okay, maybe not just taking a break..."

"I saw you earlier, helping Santa. Rough day with the kids?"

A bitter laugh escapes her. "That obvious, huh?" She sniffs and wipes her nose with her sleeve. "Everything went wrong. The kids were crazy, I couldn't control them, I dropped hot chocolate all over myself... and now they're firing me. Said I'm not 'elf material.'"

"That's harsh. Those kids were like wild animals though, not sure anyone could have controlled them."

She shrugs, looking down at her ridiculous pointed shoes. "I really needed this job though. Even just through Christmas..."

"I'm sorry. I'm sure you'll find something else soon." You hesitate for a second, then you say your name.

"Miyeon," she replies softly.

"Nice to meet you, Miyeon. Look, this might sound weird but... would you want to grab something to eat? You look like you could use a friend right now."

Her eyes widen. "Oh! That's very kind but... I don't know you. And I probably look terrible..." She gestures at her tear-stained face.

You grin. "Come on, who doesn't want to have dinner with a Christmas elf? I promise I'm not a serial killer. We can go somewhere public with lots of witnesses."

That gets a small laugh out of her. "I really shouldn't..."

Right on cue, her stomach lets out a loud growl. Her face turns bright red.

"When's the last time you ate?" You ask.

"Um... breakfast? Maybe?" She admits sheepishly. "I was too nervous to eat lunch..."

"That settles it then. Come on, my treat. Consider it my good deed for the holiday season."

She bites her lip, clearly conflicted. "You really don't have to..."

"I want to. Plus, how often do I get to take an elf to dinner? It'll make a great story."

Finally, a real smile breaks through. "Okay... but only if you promise to drive me home after?"

"Scout's honor," you reply, helping her up.

—

You lead her to your car, noticing how small and vulnerable she looks in the ridiculous elf costume. During the short drive, you learn that Miyeon is a college student who needed extra money for textbooks next semester.

"The mall job seemed perfect," she explains. "Decent pay for just two weeks of work. But I guess I'm not cut out for dealing with kids."

"Those weren't kids, they were tiny terrorists," you reply, making her giggle.

At the diner, you slide into a booth and watch in amusement as Miyeon demolishes a huge plate of pancakes. She pauses between bites, suddenly self-conscious.

"Am I being rude? I must look like such a pig..."

"Not at all. Eat up - you've earned it after this sitty day."

Other diners keep glancing at your table, probably wondering why there's an elf having breakfast for dinner. Miyeon shrinks under their stares.

"Don't you need to return the costume?" you ask.

She shakes her head. "Had to buy it myself. Waste of money now..."

"Seriously? They made you pay for it? That's fucked up."

"Yeah... I spent most of my savings on it too." Her voice wavers slightly.

You study her as she eats - she really is cute, even in the silly costume. There's something genuine and sweet about her that draws you in.

"So what are you studying?" you ask.

"Art history. Everyone says it's useless but... I love it. There's something magical about understanding how art has shaped human culture throughout time."

Her eyes light up as she talks about her studies, hands gesturing animatedly. You find yourself smiling at her enthusiasm.

"That's actually really cool. Most people just chase whatever degree will make them the most money."

"That's what my parents wanted me to do," she sighs. "They think I'm wasting my time. The mall job was supposed to prove I could be responsible and support myself but..." she trails off, looking down at her empty plate.

"Hey, no matter what they think. Do what makes you happy."

She gives you a grateful smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

After dinner, you drive her home as promised. She lives in a small apartment complex near campus.

"Thank you so much for everything," Miyeon says sincerely. "I don't know how to repay you."

You pretend to think hard for a moment.

"Hmm, how about drinks tomorrow night?" you suggest. "No elf costume required."

Her eyes widen. "Are you... are you asking me out?"

"Unless that would be weird?"

"No! I mean... no, it wouldn't be weird. I'd like that." Her cheeks flush pink.

"Great. I'll text you?"

She nods, typing her number into your phone. As she gets out of the car, she turns back one more time.

"You know... maybe getting fired wasn't the worst thing after all."

—

The next evening, you meet Miyeon at a cozy bar downtown. She looks completely different out of the elf costume - wearing a simple sweater and jeans that highlight her petite but curvy figure. Her dark hair falls in soft waves around her face.

"Wow, you clean up nice," you tease. "Almost didn't recognize you without the pointy ears."

She rolls her eyes but smiles. "Never mention that costume again. I'm trying to repress those memories."

Over drinks, conversation flows easily. You learn that Miyeon moved here from Korea as a child, that she has a passion for Renaissance art, and that she secretly loves terrible reality TV shows. She's funny and smart, with a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard.

"So what do you do?" she asks, sipping her cocktail.

You tell her about your job, making her laugh with stories about your weird coworkers. As the night goes on, you find yourself moving closer together, knees touching under the table.

"Want to know a secret?" Miyeon says, slightly tipsy. "I actually hate Christmas music now. Hours of Jingle Bells on repeat will do that to you."

"I don't blame you. That shit's torture."

She giggles, leaning into you slightly. "You know what else? Some of those kids were evil. Like, actually evil. One bit me!"

"No fucking way!"

"Yes! Right here!" She rolls up her sleeve to show you a small bruise on her forearm. Without thinking, you gently run your fingers over the mark. Her skin is incredibly soft.

Miyeon shivers slightly at your touch, looking up at you with those big dark eyes. The air between you feels charged suddenly.

"Do you want to take a walk in the park?" you ask softly.

Shd nods, biting her lower lip.

—

The winter air nips at your faces as you and Miyeon stroll through the park. Christmas lights twinkle in the trees, creating a magical atmosphere despite the late hour. Snow crunches beneath your feet as you walk close together, shoulders brushing.

"Thanks for tonight," Miyeon says softly. "I really needed this after... you know." She gestures vaguely, probably referring to the elf fiasco.

"Hey, I should be thanking you. Not every day I get to rescue a damsel in distress from a parking lot," you tease.

She playfully shoves your shoulder. "I wasn't in distress! I was just... strategically regrouping."

"Is that what we're calling crying behind a car now?"

"Shut up," she laughs, but moves closer to you as a cold breeze whips past.

You find a bench overlooking a small pond, its surface reflecting the colorful lights. Sitting close together for warmth, you can smell her light floral perfume mixing with the crisp winter air.

"You know what's funny?" Miyeon says, watching her breath form little clouds. "If I hadn't been such a terrible elf, we never would have met."

"You weren't terrible. Those kids were demons."

"True. But still..." She turns to look at you, snowflakes catching in her dark hair. Her cheeks are pink from the cold and maybe the drinks. "I'm kind of glad it happened."

The moment feels perfect - the lights, the snow, her eyes shining as she looks up at you. You lean in slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wants to.

Instead, she meets you halfway.

Her lips are soft and slightly cold from the winter air. The kiss is gentle, tentative at first, then deepening as she sighs against your mouth. Your hand comes up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing away a snowflake.

When you finally part, Miyeon's eyes stay closed for a moment longer, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Wow," she breathes.

"Yeah," you agree eloquently, making her giggle.

—

The next few days pass in a pleasant blur. You text constantly, sharing memes and stories about your days. She sends you pictures of terrible Christmas sweaters at thrift stores, you counter with photos of your coworker's increasingly elaborate desk decorations.

You meet up again for coffee between her job hunting attempts. This time she's wearing an oversized sweater that makes her look even tinier, hands wrapped around a steaming peppermint latte.

"I had another interview today," she sighs. "At a bookstore this time."

"How'd it go?"

"Well, I didn't cry or spill anything, so better than the mall job already." She takes a sip of her drink, leaving a foam mustache that you resist the urge to kiss away. "But they said they're looking for someone with more retail experience."

"That's bullshit. How are you supposed to get experience if no one will hire you?"

"Exactly!" She throws up her hands in frustration. "It's like they expect me to emerge fully formed from the womb with five years of customer service experience."

You think for a moment. "You know... my friend works at that art supply store downtown. I could put in a word?"

Miyeon's eyes light up. "Really? You'd do that?"

"Of course. Plus, it's related to your major kind of. You'd be surrounded by art stuff all day."

She practically bounces in her seat. "That would be amazing! Thank you-thank you-thank you!"

Her enthusiasm is infectious. You can't help but lean across the table to kiss her, tasting peppermint on her lips.

The art store interview goes well - Your friend's recommendation carries weight, and Miyeon's genuine passion for art shines through. They hire her for a temporary position through the holiday season, with potential to stay on part-time after.

"I start Monday!" she tells you excitedly over the phone. "And the employee discount is amazing. I'm going to buy so many fancy pencils."

You celebrate with takeout at her tiny apartment near campus. It's cramped but cozy, walls covered in art prints and fairy lights. You sit on her futon eating Chinese food straight from the containers while she tells you about all her plans.

"The manager said they do workshops sometimes too. Like, teaching basic techniques and stuff. Maybe eventually I could lead one!" She's practically vibrating with excitement.

"Look at you, moving up in the world. From disgraced elf to art guru."

She throws a fortune cookie at your head. "Never mention the elf thing again! I'm trying to maintain some dignity here."

You catch the cookie and crack it open. "'A surprise encounter will lead to lasting happiness.’ Huh, guess these things are right sometimes."

Miyeon blushes, ducking her head. You set aside the takeout containers and pull her close, kissing her slowly. She melts against you, fingers curling into your shirt.

The makeout sessions are becoming a regular thing, but neither of you pushes for more. It's nice, this slow build of intimacy. Learning the little things about each other - how she scrunches her nose when she laughs, the way she absently hums while reading, her habit of stealing sips of your drinks and more.

—

You help her prepare for her first day, picking out an outfit that's professional but still her style.

She texts you updates throughout the day:

"OMG there are so many types of pencils. How are there this many pencils??"

"Just had to explain to someone why they can't return used paint. Why are people like this?"

"A kid just asked me what colors taste the best. I told him blue. Hope I don't get sued."

After her shift, you meet her for dinner. She's tired but happy, chattering about everything she learned.

"And did you know there are pencils that cost like $50 EACH? For one pencil! But they're so smooth, feel this!" She pulls a sample pencil from her bag, making you test it on a napkin.

"Very smooth," you agree, charmed by her enthusiasm. "Worth $50?"

"Maybe not $50, but with my discount..." She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

The days leading up to Christmas pass quickly. You help Miyeon learn the store's inventory system, quizzing her on different types of paper and brush sizes. She introduces you to her favorite cheap noodle places near campus.

One evening, you're walking her home when it starts snowing heavily. She tilts her head back, sticking out her tongue to catch snowflakes.

"You know what?" she says thoughtfully. "I actually kind of miss the elf costume. Just a tiny bit."

You raise an eyebrow. "Stockholm syndrome kicking in?"

"No, it's just... if I hadn't taken that stupid job, if I hadn't been so bad at it... we wouldn't be here now." She stops walking, turning to face you. "Sometimes the worst things lead to the best things, you know?"

You brush snow from her hair. "Very philosophical. Must be all that art history education."

"Shut up," she laughs, standing on tiptoes to kiss you. Her lips are cold but her mouth is warm, tasting like the hot chocolate you shared earlier.

When she pulls back, her eyes are serious. "Thank you. For everything. The job, the support... just being there."

"Hey, I got something out of it too. How many people can say they're dating a former mall elf?"

She groans. "I take it back. You're the worst."

But she's smiling as she says it, snowflakes catching on her eyelashes, and you think maybe those fortune cookies know what they're talking about after all.

—

The art supply store keeps her busy through the holiday rush. You bring her coffee during her breaks, watching her explain different types of paints to customers with growing confidence. She's in her element here, surrounded by creative supplies and fellow art enthusiasts.

"A lady asked me to recommend brushes for oil painting today," she tells you proudly. "And I actually knew what to suggest! I'm becoming one of those knowledgeable retail people."

"Better than being one of those retail people who hides in the stockroom to cry," you point out.

"That was ONE TIME," she protests, but she's laughing.

—

Finally, about two days before Christmas, you invite her over to your place for dinner. You've cooked before, but tonight feels different. There's an electricity in the air, an unspoken anticipation.

Miyeon shows up wearing a simple red dress that hugs every curve. Her dark hair falls in soft waves past her shoulders, and you catch a hint of floral perfume when she hugs you hello.

"Something smells amazing," she says, following you to the kitchen.

"Don't sound so surprised," you tease. "I can cook sometimes."

"Sometimes being the key word." She peers into the pot on the stove. "Remember the Great Pasta Disaster of last week?"

"Hey, how was I supposed to know the sauce would explode like that?"

She laughs, stealing a piece of garlic bread. "My ceiling is still stained red. My landlord thinks I murdered someone up there."

Dinner is comfortable, filled with your usual banter. But there's an undercurrent of tension, a charge building between you. Every accidental brush of hands sends sparks down your spine. You catch her staring at your lips more than once.

After the dishes are done, you move to the couch with glasses of wine. Miyeon curls up against your side, fitting perfectly under your arm. You can feel her heart racing.

"This is nice," she murmurs, tracing patterns on your thigh.

"Yeah?" Your voice comes out rougher than intended. "Just nice?"

She tilts her head up to look at you, eyes dark and intense. "Maybe more than nice..."

You cup her face with one hand, thumb brushing her cheek. She leans into the touch, breath hitching slightly.

"Miyeon..."

"Yes?"

"Do you like me?"

Instead of answering, she surges up to press her lips against yours. It starts soft, tentative, but quickly deepens into something more urgent. Her tongue slides against yours as she shifts to straddle your lap, dress riding up her thighs.

You run your hands up her sides, feeling her shiver. She grinds down against you, drawing a groan from your throat. When you break for air, her pupils are blown wide with desire.

"Bedroom?" You manage to ask.

She nods frantically. "Please."

You stand, lifting her with you. Her legs wrap around your waist as you carry her down the hall, still kissing. You nearly trip twice, making her giggle against your mouth.

Finally reaching the bedroom, you put her back on the floor, your fingers gently touch her cheek, she looks up at you with such trust and want that it makes your chest ache.

"You're sure about this?" You have to ask.

"I've never been more sure of anything," she replies.

That’s all you needed to hear.

Your hands roam over Miyeon's body, mapping every delicious curve through her thin dress. She arches into your touch, soft moans escaping her perfect lips. When you kiss down her neck, she threads her fingers through your hair, pulling you closer.

"I've wanted this for so long," she whispers, her voice trembling with need. "Ever since we first met..."

You gently bite her neck, making her gasp. "Me too, princess. You drive me fucking crazy." Your hands slide down to squeeze her ass through the dress. She feels so perfect, so soft yet firm.

Miyeon grinds against you, her breath coming faster. "Please... touch me more..." She guides your hand to her breast, letting you feel her hardened nipple through the fabric.

You waste no time sliding the dress straps off her shoulders, revealing more of her flawless porcelain skin. Her medium breasts spill free, pink nipples begging for attention. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," you growl, taking one peak into your mouth.

"Ohh! Yes, suck them..." She holds your head to her chest as you lavish her breasts with your tongue, alternating between gentle licks and firm sucking. Her moans get louder when you graze your teeth over the sensitive buds.

Your hands push her dress down further until it pools at her feet. Miyeon stands before you in just her lacy panties, her face flushed with arousal and slight embarrassment. You drink in the sight of her nearly naked body.

"You're staring too much," she says shyly.

You gently grab her wrists. "It's because you're fucking perfect." You pull her close for a deep kiss, your tongue exploring her mouth as your hands roam her exposed skin.

She melts into the kiss, pressing her breasts against your chest. You can feel her nipples hard against you through your shirt. Her hands tug at the fabric. "Take this off... I want to feel your skin..."

You break the kiss just long enough to pull your shirt over your head. When your bare chest meets hers, you both moan at the contact. Her skin is so incredibly soft against yours.

"Bed. Now." You guide her backwards until her knees hit the mattress. She lies back, dark hair fanning out on the pillow as she looks up at you with those innocent yet lustful eyes.

You crawl over her, leaving a trail of hot kisses from her tummy up to her neck. Her hands explore your back, nails lightly scratching. When you grind your clothed erection against her core, she gasps.

"Can you feel how hard you make me?" You thrust against her again, making her whimper.

"Y-yes... I want to see it..." Her hands move to your belt, fumbling with the buckle.

You help her undo your pants, kicking them off along with your boxers. Your cock springs free, already rock hard and leaking precum. Miyeon's eyes widen as she takes in your size.

"Like what you see, princess?" You smirk as her hand wraps around your shaft, stroking experimentally.

"It's so big..." she whispers, thumb brushing over your sensitive tip. "Will it... fit?"

"We'll go nice and slow, baby. But first..." You hook your fingers in her panties, sliding them down her legs. You spread her creamy thighs wide apart, admiring how her pink pussy glistens with arousal. Her outer lips are puffy and swollen, inner folds glistening with her juices. The musky scent of her cunt makes your mouth water as you lean in closer. “Fuck, you're already so wet for me.”

"Please..." she whimpers, squirming under your intense gaze. "Stop teasing and lick me already!"

You give her a wicked grin before diving in, dragging your hot tongue through her dripping slit from bottom to top. The taste of her pussy explodes across your tongue - tangy and sweet like ripe fruit. She cries out and bucks her hips up into your face.

"Fuck! Your tongue feels so good!" Her fingers tangle in your hair as you focus on her clit, circling the swollen nub with firm strokes. You can feel it getting harder and more pronounced under your tongue.

Holding her thighs open wider, you bury your face deeper between her legs, eating her pussy like it's your last meal. Your tongue alternates between fucking into her tight hole and flicking rapidly over her clit. Wet sucking sounds fill the room as you devour her cunt.

Her pussy is absolutely drenched now, cream coating your chin as you feast on her. You slide two fingers into her clutching channel while continuing to assault her clit with your tongue. The walls of her cunt squeeze your digits hungrily.

"Holy shit, don't stop! Right there!" She grinds her pussy against your face, chasing her pleasure. "I'm getting so close already..."

You curl your fingers to massage her g-spot while sucking her clit between your lips. The combination has her writhing and moaning uncontrollably. Her thighs start to tremble as her orgasm builds.

You increase the pressure and speed, determined to make her cum hard on your tongue. Your fingers pump in and out of her sopping pussy while you flick her clit mercilessly. She's so wet that obscene squelching noises accompany each thrust of your fingers.

"Fuck fuck fuck! I'm gonna cum!" Her back arches off the bed as her climax hits. Her pussy clamps down on your fingers as waves of pleasure course through her. You keep licking and sucking, drawing out her orgasm until she pushes your head away.

But you're not done with her yet. Not so soon. As she lies there panting, you reposition yourself between her legs. Her pussy is still twitching with aftershocks when you dive back in, this time focusing solely on her sensitive clit.

"Wait! I just came—ahhhh!" Her protest turns into a moan as you suck her swollen clit between your lips. You can feel her trying to close her legs but you hold them open, continuing your relentless assault on her pussy.

The oversensitivity quickly transforms back into pleasure as you work her towards another orgasm. Your tongue swirls around her clit in tight circles while three fingers pump into her dripping hole. Her cream coats your hand as you finger-fuck her roughly.

"Oh god, I can't... it's too much!" But her hips are rocking against your face again, chasing the building pleasure. You can feel her pussy getting even wetter, if that's possible.

You alternate between broad strokes with your flattened tongue and quick flicks directly on her clit. Meanwhile your fingers curl to hit her g-spot with each thrust. The combination of stimulation has her climbing rapidly towards another peak.

Her moans get higher and more desperate as you drive her wild with your mouth and fingers. You can tell she's fighting the pleasure, still sensitive from her first orgasm. But you're determined to make her cum again.

"Please... I can't take it... gonna cum again!" Her thighs start shaking as her second orgasm approaches. You double down, sucking her clit firmly while hammering your fingers against her g-spot.

She screams as she cums, her pussy clamping down so hard on your fingers that you can barely move them. You keep your lips locked around her clit, sucking gently to draw out the intense pleasure.

When her orgasm finally subsides, you slowly withdraw your fingers from her quivering pussy. They're absolutely coated in her cream. You make eye contact as you lick them clean, savoring her tangy flavor.

"Holy shit..." Miyeon pants, still trembling. "That was incredible. I've never cum that hard before."

You smirk and dive right back in, making her yelp in surprise. Her clit is swollen and ultra-sensitive now, perfect for what you have planned. You flatten your tongue and lap at her pussy with long, slow strokes.

"No more, baby, I can't..." But her protests are weak and her hips are already moving against your mouth again. You can feel her getting wetter as you continue eating her out.

This time you take it slow, building her up gradually. Your tongue explores every fold and crease of her pussy, occasionally dipping into her hole to taste her essence. When you finally return attention to her clit, she's practically begging for it.

"Please... need to cum again..." Miyeon rocks desperately against your face, seeking more pressure. But you keep your touches light and teasing, driving her crazy with want.

You trace letters on her clit with the tip of your tongue, spelling out filthy words as she writhes beneath you. When you finally slide your fingers back into her clutching pussy, she moans in relief.

"Yes! Fuck me with your fingers while you eat my pussy!" Her dirty talk spurs you on as you pump three fingers into her dripping hole. Your tongue works her clit with firm, steady pressure.

Her pussy is absolutely gushing now, cream running down your wrist as you finger-fuck her roughly. The wet sounds of your fingers plunging into her cunt fill the room along with her desperate moans.

You curl your fingers to massage her g-spot while sucking her clit between your lips. The dual stimulation has her climbing rapidly towards another orgasm. Her thighs start trembling as she gets close.

"Gonna cum again! Don't stop, please don't stop!" She grinds her pussy against your face, chasing her pleasure. You increase the pressure and speed, determined to give her the most intense orgasm yet.

Her back lifts clear off the bed, her body trembling violently as the orgasm tears through her. Miyeon's cries of your name echo in the room, her voice breaking into a series of desperate whimpers. Her pussy clamps down on your fingers, pulsating in rhythm with the waves of pleasure crashing through her. Her hands clutch at the sheets, knuckles white, as her thighs twitch uncontrollably. You don’t let up, your fingers continuing to work her through every shuddering moment of ecstasy, curling and teasing until she lets out a sharp gasp and pushes your head back, her hips jerking away.

"Stop, stop! Too much," she pants, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her body glistening with sweat.

You lean back, watching her recover, her hair splayed out like a halo against the pillow. Her cheeks are flushed deep red, lips parted as she struggles to catch her breath. She drapes an arm over her face, giggling weakly. "Wow... that was—like—insane. I didn’t know you were this good with your hands."

“Take your time,” you say, your tone soft but teasing as your gaze roams her utterly wrecked form.

She peeks at you from beneath her arm, her eyes still hazy and unfocused. Her thighs quiver as she stretches her legs out, one hand brushing against her stomach as if grounding herself. “Okay, just give me a second,” she murmurs, her voice shaky, a tired smile playing at her lips.

While she lies there, basking in the aftershocks, you reach over to the nightstand. Your fingers brush against the foil packet, and you tear it open deliberately, watching her out of the corner of your eye. Her gaze snaps to you as you roll the condom onto your throbbing cock, her pupils dilating slightly.

"Already?" she whispers, a flicker of excitement chasing away the exhaustion in her expression. You smirk, positioning yourself above her, letting her feel the heat of your body pressing against hers.

"Yes. Ready for me, princess?" You position yourself at her entrance, rubbing your tip through her folds.

She nods, pulling you down for a passionate kiss. You can feel her trembling with anticipation.

"Tell me if it's too much," you murmur against her lips as you start pushing in. The head pops past her tight entrance, making you both moan.

"Oh fuck... you're so big..." She bites her lip, adjusting to the stretch as you slowly feed more of your length into her.

You go inch by inch, letting her pussy accommodate your size. Her walls grip you like a vice, so hot and tight it takes all your control not to just slam in.

"That's it, baby, taking my cock so well..." You bottom out, fully sheathed in her warmth.

You stay still for a moment, letting her adjust while peppering kisses across her face and neck. When her hips start moving against you, you take it as your cue to move.

You start with a few slow, shallow thrusts, just to get her warmed up. Miyeon's moans are soft at first, but they grow louder with each push, urging you on. You can feel her nails digging into your back, her legs wrapping around your waist, pulling you deeper into her. The angle changes, and you hit something inside her that makes her cry out.

"Fuck, right there," she gasps. "Don't stop."

You don't plan to. You pick up the pace, your hips moving faster, your cock sliding in and out of her slick pussy. She's meeting your thrusts, her body arching up to take you deeper.

"Faster," she begs, her voice ragged. "Please fuck me faster."

You grip her hips, your fingers digging into her soft flesh. You start really giving it to her, your balls slapping against her ass with each stroke. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard banging against the wall as you pound her tight pussy.

"You like that, huh?" you growl in her ear. "Like getting fucked hard by my big cock?"

"Yes!" she screams. "Oh god, yes! Your cock feels so fucking good inside me."

Her words dissolve into incoherent moans, her body writhing beneath you. You can feel her getting wetter, her cream coating your shaft and dripping down her ass, making a fucking mess of the sheets. You can see it glistening on your cock every time you pull out, can feel it easing the way as you slam back in.

You lean down, your teeth finding her neck, biting down as you fuck her even harder. She cries out, her body convulsing around you. You can feel her pussy clenching, her walls squeezing your cock.

"Fuck, you're close," you groan. "I can feel it."

"Yes," she pants. "I'm gonna cum again. I'm gonna cum all over your cock."

You can feel your own orgasm building, your balls drawing up tight. But you hold back, determined to make her cum first. You want to feel her lose control, want to feel her pussy milking your cock.

You reach between them, your fingers finding her clit. You rub it in tight circles, your cock still pounding into her. She screams, her body bucking, her pussy clamping down on you like a vice.

"Cum for me, baby," you growl. "Let me feel you cum all over my cock."

And she does. She cums hard, her body convulsing, her pussy pulsing around you. You can feel her cream coating your cock, can feel it dripping down your balls. You keep fucking her, drawing out her orgasm, making her cry out with each thrust. Gradually you slow down the pace, each time your cock goes deep inside her, it pulls out slowly, you stay at this teasing pace until she catches her breath, then when you finally pull your cock out of her, without warning, you lift her shapely leg, exposing her dripping pussy and those delicate feet with festive red toenails.

"What are you doing?" she asks, watching as you grip her ankle.

"I'm gonna worship every inch of you," you growl, bringing her foot closer to your face. "Your pretty little toes look too tasty to resist."

Miyeon giggles nervously. "Nobody's ever... Oh fuck!" she gasps as you take her big toe into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. The polish is smooth against your tongue as you suck gently, watching her face for reactions.

"Does that feel good, baby?" You ask between licks. Her toes taste clean with just a hint of salt from sweat.

"Mmmhh... it's weird but... kinda nice," she admits, wiggling her toes against your tongue. You take two toes in your mouth now, sucking harder as your hand slides up her thigh.

"Your feet are fucking perfect," you tell her, kissing down to her arch. "Just like the rest of you." Your fingers find her pussy lips, already swollen and slick from earlier. You gather some of her wetness and start rubbing slow circles around her clit.

"Ohhh..." Miyeon moans, her leg trembling in your grip. You alternate between sucking her toes and licking long stripes up her sole while your fingers work her pussy. Her cream coats your digits as you slide two inside her tight channel.

"So wet for me," you growl. "I love how your pussy gets all creamy when you're turned on." You curl your fingers, finding that special spot that makes her whole body jerk.

"Fuck! Right there!" she cries out, grinding against your hand. You keep the pressure steady, pumping your fingers as you lavish attention on her feet. Her pussy clenches rhythmically around you.

"You gonna cum again for me?" you ask, increasing the pace of your fingers. "Gonna soak my hand with that sweet pussy?"

"Yes! Please don't stop!" Miyeon pants, her head thrashing on the pillow. You can feel her getting close, her inner walls fluttering. Just before she peaks, you withdraw your fingers, making her whine in protest.

"Not yet baby," you tease, releasing her foot. "I want to fuck you while I suck these pretty toes." You position yourself behind her, keeping her leg lifted. Your cock slides easily through her folds, gathering her wetness.

"Please," she begs. "I need you inside me..."

You press just the tip against her entrance, making her squirm.

"Tell me how bad you want it."

"Please, baby, I need to feel your big cock deep in my pussy! Please fuck me... I'm so empty..."

Unable to resist her pleading, you thrust forward, burying your full length in her tight heat. "Fuuuck," you groan. "Your pussy feels amazing." You start a steady rhythm, not too fast yet, wanting to build her up slowly.

Miyeon moans with each thrust, her pussy gripping you perfectly. You capture her toes in your mouth again, sucking hard as you fuck her. The dual stimulation has her writhing.

"Oh god... that's so... unngh!" She can barely form words as pleasure overwhelms her. You increase your pace gradually, driving deeper. Her cream coats your shaft, making obscene wet sounds with each stroke.

"You like having your toes sucked while I fuck this tight pussy?" you ask, releasing her foot momentarily. "Such a good girl, taking my cock so well."

"Yes! Love it... love your cock..." she gasps. You've never heard her talk so dirty before. It spurs you on, making you thrust harder.

Her pussy starts clenching erratically around you as you pound into her. You can tell she's getting close again. This time you don't let up, determined to make her cum hard.

"Something's happening..." Miyeon pants suddenly. "Feels different... like I need to pee..."

"That's it baby," you encourage her. "Don't fight it. Let go for me." You redouble your efforts, angling your hips to hit her g-spot with each thrust while sucking her toes enthusiastically.

"But... unngh... I can't..." she protests weakly, even as her body tenses up.

"Yes, you can! Cum for me Miyeon. Fucking squirt all over my cock!" You slam into her faster, feeling her pussy spasm around you.

"Oh god, oh god, OH FUCK!" Miyeon screams as the dam finally breaks. Clear fluid gushes from around your cock, soaking the sheets beneath you. Her whole body convulses as she experiences her first squirting orgasm.

You keep thrusting through her release, prolonging it as much as possible. More fluid spurts out with each stroke as she trembles uncontrollably.

"That's it baby, let it all out," you growl around her toes. "So fucking hot watching you squirt."

Miyeon can only moan incoherently as waves of pleasure crash over her. Her pussy clamps down so hard it nearly pushes you out, but you maintain your rhythm until her orgasm finally starts to subside.

You gently release her foot and slow your thrusts, giving her time to catch her breath. She looks absolutely wrecked in the best way possible.

"Holy shit," she pants when she can speak again. "What... what was that?"

You chuckle, still buried deep inside her quivering pussy. "That was you squirting, baby. Felt good, didn't it?"

She nods weakly. "Amazing... I didn't know I could do that..."

"Oh we're just getting started," you promise with a wicked grin. "Now that I know how to make you squirt, I'm gonna make you do it again and again..."

Miyeon whimpers at your words, her pussy clenching around you. You can feel she's still sensitive, but also still aroused.

Perfect.

"Ready?" you ask, starting to move inside her again. She moans in response as you lift her foot back to your mouth...

Your cock slides easily through her creamy folds as you build up a steady rhythm once more. Miyeon's moans get louder with each thrust, her oversensitive pussy gripping you like a vice.

"Such a good girl," you praise her between licks to her foot. "Taking my cock so well after that huge orgasm."

"Feels so good," she gasps. "Everything's so sensitive..."

You angle your hips to hit her g-spot again, making her whole body jerk. "Think you can squirt for me again?" You ask, increasing your pace slightly.

"I... unngh... maybe?" Miyeon pants. "Still feels like I might pee..."

"That's normal, baby. Just let it happen." You suck her big toe into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it as you fuck her deeper. Her cream coats your shaft, dripping down onto the already soaked sheets.

"Oh fuck... oh fuck..." she chants as the pleasure builds. You can feel her starting to tense up again, her inner walls fluttering around your cock.

"That's it," you encourage her. "Let go for me. Show me what a good little squirter you are."

Your words push her over the edge. With a sharp cry, Miyeon's pussy contracts hard and another gush of clear fluid sprays out around your cock.

"Fuck yes!" You growl, maintaining your rhythm as she squirts. "So fucking hot watching you lose control like this."

Wave after wave of pleasure rocks through her body as you continue fucking her through the intense orgasm. Her toes curl against your tongue as more fluid spurts out with each thrust.

When her release finally subsides, Miyeon lies there trembling and gasping for air. You slow your pace but don't stop completely, knowing you can wring at least one more orgasm from her oversensitive body.

"Please..." she whimpers, her body trembling beneath you. "It's too much... I can't..."

"Shh, baby," you murmur, your voice steady and firm. "You can take it. You can take everything I give you." You slow your thrusts a little more, letting her catch her breath, but not enough to let her come down from the peak. "You've got one more in you. I know you do."

She shakes her head, her hair sticking to her sweat-slicked face. "No, I can't... I can't..."

"You can," you insist, your cock still moving inside her, stirring up her pleasure again. "You're a fucking goddess, Miyeon. You can take every inch of my cock. You can cum all over it again."

You increase your speed, your hips moving faster, your cock hitting that spot inside her that makes her scream. You can feel her pussy clenching around you, trying to keep you in, trying to milk you.

"Oh god," she moans, her voice rising in pitch. "Oh god, oh god, oh god..."

"That's it, baby," you growl. "Feel that? Feel my cock hitting your g-spot? You're gonna cum for me again. You're gonna squirt all over my cock."

"I'm so close... I'm so clo—OH GOD!" she cries out, her body tensing, her pussy gripping you like a vice.

You can feel her right on the edge, her body coiled tight, ready to snap. You lean down, your teeth finding her earlobe, biting down just hard enough to send a shockwave through her.

"Cum for me, Miyeon," you command, your voice low and rough. "Fucking let go. Let me feel that pussy explode. Let me see that squirt. Do it, baby. Fucking do it now."

She screams, her body convulsing, her eyes rolling back in her head. "I'm cumm—AAAAH!"

You can feel it, hot and wet, gushing out of her, coating your cock, dripping down your balls. You keep fucking her, drawing out her orgasm, making her scream with each thrust.

"That's it, baby," you groan. "Fuck, that's so good. You're squirting all over my cock. You're such a good girl, Miyeon. Such a fucking good girl."

Her body is shaking, her pussy still pulsing around you. You slow your thrusts, letting her ride out her orgasm, letting her come down slowly. You're about to cum, right on the edge, but you hold back again. This is about her.

This is about Miyeon.

You gently pull out of her, your cock still hard and glistening with her cum. You move down her body, your tongue tracing a path down her stomach, down to her pussy, your hands stroking her thighs, your touch gentle and soothing.

The bed beneath her is a fucking mess—sheets soaked through, the scent of sex heavy in the air. You can see the wet spot spreading, a testament to her pleasure.

"Fuck, baby," you murmur, your voice soft but filled with awe. "Look at this mess you made. You're so fucking sexy."

Miyeon's breath hitches as she looks down at the wet sheets, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and satisfaction. "I... I didn't know I could do that," she admits, her voice shaky. "It felt... god, it felt so fucking good."

You smile, your fingers tracing patterns on her inner thighs, feeling the slickness of her cum. "You squirted, baby. You fucking squirted all over my cock. It was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

She shivers, her body still sensitive from the intense orgasm. "I've never... I've never felt anything like that before. It was like... like my whole body just let go."

You lean in, your tongue lapping at her pussy, tasting her, cleaning her up. She jolts, her hips bucking slightly, but you hold her steady, your hands gripping her thighs.

"Shh, baby," you soothe. "Let me take care of you. Let me clean you up."

She relaxes, her body melting into the bed as you take your time, your tongue exploring every inch of her pussy. You can feel her shivering, her body responding to your touch. The taste of her is intoxicating, a mix of sweet and salty, pure fucking heaven.

"You taste so fucking good, Miyeon," you murmur, your voice low and husky. "I could do this all fucking night."

She moans softly, her fingers tangling in your hair. "It feels so good... I can't believe I did that. I can't believe I squirted."

You look up at her, your eyes meeting hers. She's watching you, her eyes soft and hazy with pleasure. You smile, your tongue giving her one last lick.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Miyeon," you whisper. "God, you're so fucking perfect…"

"But you haven't come yet," she suddenly notes.

"You're right. And where do you want my cum, princess?" You ask.

"On my face... want to taste you..."

"Fuck... Okay. Yeah, right. Get on your knees, baby,” you ask her as you quickly remove the condom.

Miyeon looks up at you with those innocent eyes as she kneels before you, her pretty face flushed with arousal. Her lips are already swollen from all the kissing, making them look even more cock-hungry than usual. You grab a fistful of her silky black hair, guiding her face closer to your throbbing shaft.

"Open that pretty mouth for me baby," you command, tapping your cock head against her plump lips. "I want to see how deep you can take it."

She parts her lips obediently, sticking out her pink tongue to lap at your sensitive tip. The sight of your precum glistening on her tongue makes your cock throb with need. You slowly feed her more of your length, watching in satisfaction as her lips stretch around your girth.

"Mmmmph," she moans around your cock, her eyes fluttering closed in pleasure. She clearly loves having her mouth filled, eagerly sucking and slurping as you push deeper.

You start with slow, shallow thrusts, letting her get used to your size. Her tongue swirls expertly around your shaft as you slide in and out between those perfect lips. Wet sucking sounds fill the room along with her muffled moans.

"That's it baby, take my cock," you growl, tightening your grip in her hair. "Your mouth feels so fucking good."

She responds by taking you deeper, relaxing her throat to accommodate more of your length. Tears form in the corners of her eyes as you hit the back of her throat, but she doesn't pull away.

If anything, she seems even more eager.

You pick up the pace slightly, fucking her mouth with measured strokes. Her lipstick is getting smeared all over your cock, marking it with traces of red. The sight of her face getting messy already has your balls tightening.

"Such a good little cocksucker," you praise, watching her cheeks hollow with suction. "You love having your pretty face fucked don't you?"

She nods as best she can with your cock stuffed in her mouth, humming in agreement. The vibrations send pleasure shooting through your shaft.

You pull out briefly to let her catch her breath, a string of saliva connecting her lips to your cock head. She gasps for air but immediately opens wide again, eager for more. Her face is already a mess of smeared makeup and drool.

"Please fuck my face harder," she begs, voice hoarse. "I want you to use my mouth like a pussy."

You don't need to be asked twice. Gripping her head firmly with both hands, you slam your cock back between her lips. This time you don't hold back, setting a brutal pace as you fuck her throat. She gags and chokes but takes it like a champ, her eyes watering heavily.

The wet sounds of her throat getting pounded are absolutely obscene. Drool runs down her chin and neck as you use her mouth roughly. Her hands grip your thighs for support but she doesn't try to pull away or slow you down.

"Fuck yes, take that cock," you grunt, watching your shaft disappear repeatedly into her willing mouth. "Going to paint that pretty face white soon."

She moans eagerly around your length, clearly excited by the promise of a facial. You can feel your orgasm building as her throat muscles massage your sensitive head.

Your thrusts become more erratic as you get closer to the edge. Her face is an absolute mess now - mascara running down her cheeks, lipstick completely ruined, drool everywhere. She looks utterly debauched and you haven't even cum yet.

"Get ready baby," you warn, feeling your balls tighten. "Going to cover that beautiful face."

You pull out just in time, the slick heat of her lips giving way as you grip your shaft tightly, aiming at Miyeon's upturned face. Her mouth is already open, tongue stretched out, her eyes locked on yours with a look of pure, desperate need. "Give it to me," she breathes, her voice thick with anticipation. The sight of her waiting so hungrily for your release sends a jolt through you, your cock twitching violently in your hand.

With a guttural groan, you let go, the first rope of hot cum splattering across her forehead and sliding down to her nose. She gasps softly, her breath hitching as the next thick jet paints her cheek, followed by another streaking across the bridge of her nose. Your hand works your shaft steadily, aiming with intent, making sure to glaze her perfect lips thoroughly, the creamy mess dripping onto her tongue as she moans in satisfaction.

She doesn’t flinch—if anything, she leans into it, her tongue sweeping over her lips, savoring every drop that lands in her mouth. You’re relentless, emptying yourself onto her until her face is a masterpiece of your desire, every inch of her skin marked with your seed. Thick streaks cling to her lashes, a stray drop dangling precariously from her chin before falling onto her chest. By the time you're finished, she’s a vision of debauched perfection, her flushed cheeks and parted lips framed by the glistening evidence of your climax.

"Fuck," you mutter, your voice hoarse as you admire her. "Look at you. My perfect, filthy girl."

She moans softly, tilting her head as you bring your cock closer, your tip still sensitive but eager for more. Slowly, deliberately, you use your softening length to spread the mess across her skin. You smear the cum over her cheeks, tracing her jawline, rubbing it into her lips before sliding down to her chin. She stays perfectly still, her eyes closed, a serene smile tugging at her mouth as she basks in the attention.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” you whisper, your voice thick with awe. “That pretty face deserves to be covered in my cum every day.”

Her lashes flutter as she peeks up at you, her voice soft but dripping with satisfaction. “I’ll let you paint me whenever you want. I love how it feels... so warm, so dirty.”

Your thumb moves to her lips, smearing the last of the cum over them before pushing lightly into her mouth. She sucks on it obediently, her tongue flicking against your skin, her moan vibrating through your thumb.

When you finally pull back, you grab a handful of tissues, leaning down to clean her face. You start gently, dabbing at her cheeks and lips, but you can’t help but pause to admire her wrecked state—the messy hair, her flushed skin, her swollen, cock-bruised lips. Even as you clean her, the heat between you lingers, your touch lingering on her skin as she smiles up at you.

"You’re mine, Miyeon," you blurt out unconsciously, but there’s no mistaking the edge in your voice.

"Yours," she repeats, her voice a dreamy whisper. "Yeah, I'm yours.”

—

After changing the sheets on the bed, you both collapse onto the fresh, clean mattress, exhausted but content. You pull Miyeon close, her body fitting perfectly against yours as you snuggle together. The room is quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the city outside the window.

Miyeon props herself up on an elbow, looking down at you with those dark, beautiful eyes. "So... this isn't just a one-time thing, right?" she asks, her voice soft but hopeful.

You pull her in for a kiss, your lips lingering on hers. "Definitely not," you murmur against her mouth. "Unless you want it to be?"

"No!" she says quickly, then blushes, her cheeks turning a cute shade of pink. "I mean... I really like you. Like, really really like you."

You smile, your heart swelling in your chest. "Good, because I really really like you too," you say. "Even when you're not dressed as an elf."

She groans, hiding her face in your neck. "Are you ever going to let me live that down?" she mumbles, her voice muffled.

You chuckle, your arms tightening around her. "Nope. It's how we met, it's part of our love story now."

She goes still in your arms, her body tensing slightly.

"Love story?" She asks

Shit. Too soon? You think to yourself, wondering if you've fucked up. But then she's beaming up at you with that bright smile that first caught your attention, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

"Yeah," you say softly. "Love story."

She kisses you again, pouring all her feelings into it. When she pulls back, her eyes are sparkling with happy tears. "Best Christmas present ever," she declares, her voice filled with joy.

[takes1]

heyy I must tell you all those tsukishima fics were so good😭 i used to literally log on to tumblr everyday just becausd of yoy😭 can I request a mattsun x oblivious reader?? Where he has tried multiple times to tell her thwt he likes her but something or the other happens and he can't and also thr reader has absolutely no idea that he likes her. Maybe in thr end he can be like do you not like me and stuff snd then she is so confused becsue she did not think thwt he'd like her back snd lmao they go out later

mattsun x oblivious!reader

the sheer quantity of tsukki lovers was a shock when i first started posting that old series lemme tell you. i rlly appreciate that!!

warnings. sfw, fluff

details. libero!reader / girls team!reader / mattsun fluff / aoba johsai fluff / oblivious!reader / platonic?cuddling / mattsun is always warm / giving you his jacket trope / rbf!mattsun / thinking he hates you trope / pda / 2k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. requests OPEN

There was only so much to be done about the bitter cold tonight. The Aoba Johsai teams had their joint biyearly dinner, but thanks to a last-minute close for renovation at your usual spot, you and at least fifteen others were stuck waiting for a reservation outside on the town square.

"Fuck-k!" Oikawa shuddered loudly, teeth chattering as he stepped out from the restaurant you were all barred from.

Somebody whined, "I just wanna sit down!"

Iwa trailed close behind, steam practically coming off of his head as he stared down at his phone. He kept his foot in the door for an older couple, sparing a passive-aggressive look at how easily they were seated.

"It'll be another 20 minutes at least," You overheard him, quiet but frothing with frustration, to your own team captain.

Only a few were properly dressed for the weather outside. It was getting darker fast, and the wind was picking up.

You were able to catch a glimpse of his phone screen. He had the estimated wait time from the restaurant's website; 5 groups were before you, but they were nowhere to be seen.

A harsh wind howled through the street and inspired you to jump behind the nearest body. You and the other liberos were lucky to have your faces protected by the gathered group of shoulders and chests, but that's where your blessings ended. Your cardigan could've been made of tissue paper, how thin it was.

The wind settled and you glanced to see who you had nestled up to- you jumped back with a muffled yelp. It went ignored because of the symphony of complaints, curses to the weather.

Matsukawa was glowering down at you. God, was he warm, but he was so mean.

He was the most unsettling member of the guys' team by far. You got along fine with everyone else, but there was some unspoken hatred in his eyes every time you had to interact with him.

He often tried to speak with you after practice, about receiving of all things, quizzing you about your methods from the games he watched or practices he caught. You didn't like how his questions were made to make you feel stupid, so you tended to keep it short with him and run away as soon as you could.

His stare was harsh and judgmental, his frown deep and unforgiving. It gave the impression that he was tearing you apart in his mind.

"Awww, (Y/n)," Your captain, whom you had backed into, put her arms around you at once.

She didn't offer as much heat as him, but it helped to make you feel safer, and wanted. You turned and pressed your face against her chest as she pulled her jacket around the both of you.

Most of the girls were huddled similarly, choice of attire more of an issue than the heavy-coated guys.

Matsukawa wore a thick, black work hoodie, nice thick pants, boots, and a utility jacket over that. You squinted, jealous and bitter, at how he wasn't shivering at all.

"Tw- t-twenty- minutes?" You shuddered against her, sniffling.

She hummed, her cold, dead fingers no help against your sides.

The wind was so strong that it stole your breath with every gust. Your ears were throbbing, your nose numb, even when another teammate joined the huddle.

Not only had you not dressed for the cold, but you didn't expect to be standing so much, so your heels were killing your feet. Another twenty minutes wasn't doable.

"Hey! There's some benches over here!" Somebody called from down the sidewalk and around the corner.

Those that knew it would take longer, especially in uncomfortable shoes, instantly started to migrate away from the door of the restaurant.

The benches were a little wet from the light drizzle earlier. It made most of your teammates hesitate to sit down, including you. You gave a dismal sniffle, completely exhausted from shivering, unable to get any colder or more glum. You peeled off your cardigan.

"Hey, wait wait-!"

"Noo!"

Your teammates gasped, grabbing at you, as you used it to wipe the bench dry.

You turned, offering them a seat, your ferocious shaking in direct contrast to the point you were trying to make.

"It- was-wasn't keeping me warm-- anyway," You struggled to declare.

The three of you sat down on the freezing metal. At least it was dry now. You stared, twitching hard, at the soggy ball in your numb fingers and tried to zone out.

Your eyes had been closed when someone big squeezed in next to you, at the end of the bench. It was too much energy to open them to see who it was.

But a heavy, warm, and cozy presence over you shocked you to open your eyes again.

"Put this on before you pass out," Matsukawa muttered, hands grabbing at the back of his own hoodie, too.

Your face would've felt warm if not for the conditions. It was already stinging, but it stung some more.

"Thank you," You shivered.

His lowered, studied stare at you as you struggled to put on his hoodie with numbed limbs made you feel like a dumbass. He probably thought you were an idiot.

His arm was so solid as he took his outer jacket back, to put it on over his long sleeve shirt. You quickly put up the plush hood and pulled the drawstrings, ears pounding at the relief of some heat.

Then his arm was back, around your shoulders, rubbing firm to get you warmed up faster.

"Thank you," You repeated, better now, and all you could possibly think to say.

When you glanced at him, you found him looking around. There was a protective air to him, like he was busy watching for something while he took care of you. He wore it well.

His hoodie smelled distinctly like him and you found that you did not mind it in the slightest. You were subtle, pulling it over your nose -breathing deep now that you weren't struggling to filter this icy cold air-, letting your body get wracked by his strong rubbing, your head steadied a little on the inside of his big shoulder. It slowly fell, heavier, on him as you learned to trust that he was being helpful.

The wind picked up again- this time you felt invulnerable to its brutality, but he squeezed his working arm into your waist and pulled you, shockingly easy, into his side with no space left between your bodies.

At this point, you were feeling guilty for enjoying it so much. There was no ounce of softness in his angry face to indicate he wanted to hold you. His nose crunched more at the wind, now that he had less layers to protect him. You could only assume he was just being chivalrous.

It made the remainder of the wait harder, in a different way.

"Oh," Iwa raised his brow at you as you passed him to go inside.

He didn't look at you for long, because he referred his gaze to Matsukawa and exchanged a smirk you couldn't see.

When you were all seated, nobody went to sit right next to you. The table was full except for the one seat while everyone filed in. At first, Watari pulled the chair out, but took one look at you and also said, "Ooh," before sitting elsewhere.

Matsukawa sat down without so much as a look at you.

Every guy at the table was looking at him, so you knew you were right about something. You just didn't know what, yet.

The whole evening, he was quiet and only spoke a few times when directly referred to. Otherwise, you felt the weight of his subtle, unwavering gaze anytime you mustered up the courage to contribute to the conversation at the table.

Surely he just wanted his hoodie back. He wore it so often, so it must have been how pitiful you looked outside to make him give it up like that.

Bellies full, bill paid, and a little more relaxed after a fun dinner out with friends despite his presence, you were all starting to leave to go home.

You stood still outside for a moment, sniffling but content, pulling up a route on your phone to walk back to the bus stop. It was a subtle way to wait for him to come out, so you could give him back his hoodie and brave the freezing journey back.

"You got somebody to walk you back?"

He leaned down to speak quietly, just to you. You watched his hand close the distance and rest on your shoulder. It made you stutter.

"Not- not officially."

Then he was walking you back to the bus stop, making a silent trek more difficult than it had to be if you had just gone by yourself. When you spared some meager glances at him, he had that same vibe about him- like he was preoccupied, displeased, and would be unpleasant if you tried to say anything.

It would be another five minutes for the bus.

He stood close to you, his arm against yours, because this bench was wet and you weren't going to repeat that mistake.

"Do you- uh," He rocked a little on his heels when you looked at him, "Do you not... like me?"

It was a staggering question. You held yourself, painfully aware that you were only standing because of his hoodie around you.

"Sure, I like you," You said in a stilted tone.

It wasn't enough and you knew it as it rolled off your tongue.

You cleared your throat. He looked away.

"I mean- I thought you hated me before today, so," You gave an empty laugh to help ease the tension.

"Hate you?" He turned towards you, hands in his pockets. It was the most emotion you had ever seen on his face.

Clearly, something was off. You squinted at him but only could hold it for a second, "Well, yeah, you're kinda... mean-,"

The shock on his face made you stumble over your words.

"But- uh, today you were so nice! Thank you, for your hoodie, that was very sweet-," You glanced around his face, confused, trailing off, "-of, you..."

He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh, eyes closed, pained at your words. You felt astoundingly guilty, more cold than ever, in a way.

"I gave you my hoodie because I like you."

He put the hand back in his pocket, turning to face the street, watching the lamp posts with a forlorn air about him, "I've been tryin' to ask you out for months."

Your mouth hung open. You covered it, after a few seconds, with your hand.

Was that what all the looks meant? Was that seriously what he was getting at every time he spoke to you? Your face warmed- a welcome sensation.

"I... didn't know," You said simply, pressing up to his side.

It worked, thank god, and though it took him a second, he put a hefty arm around you.

"You were really that clueless?" He muttered, rubbing his warm face with his other hand.

The truth did feel pretty obvious in hindsight, but you reminded him, "You're more intimidating than you think."

In the quiet, the bus sighed around the corner.

"So... I can keep the hoodie?"

You looked up at him, excited at what you could see now as his nervousness. He pressed a hasty kiss to the top of your head as the bus rolled to a stop in front of you.

"Hell, yeah."

VIP

@integers @yuchacco

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[froidefille]

Day 20: a fic with fanart

📚 Who we are in the shadows by @quicksilvermaid

Draco/Harry, 99k, E

Summary:

What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry's justice is his ticket back to everything he's lost. But nothing is exactly as it seems. Not even Harry himself. And as he gets drawn further and further into Malfoy's world of honour and deception he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew—about his childhood nemesis, the Ministry job he misses so much, and most of all, about himself. What happens when you’re forced to see that you were wrong?

Fanart links

����Kismet's portrayal of Harry's delirium in the cabin by @kk1smet

🐩 zigster's vision of Harry and his wolf by @zigster-ao3

🤍 junk-ren's depiction of their first meeting

☕ Creeee's art of Draco and Harry hanging out in the apartment by @creeeee

🐺⚡🗡🌕

I have tried, numerous times, to put my stream of consciousness that is me talking about this fic and its' fanart into something resembling a proper rec. Please be kindly informed that I have failed. Apparently, when there's Wolf Harry involved, I loose my ability to be coherent so enjoy me screaming about this work - in spoilers and quotes -under the cut <3

Thank you @hprecfest for the prompt, @quicksilvermaid for creating this story and @kk1smet, @zigster-ao3, junk-ren and @creeeee for sharing your wonderful art with us!

See y'all for day 21 prompt <3

OKAY, here goes!

In the very first scene of the fic Harry recognizes Draco while they are both glamoured by his behaviour alone. He could probably write a PhD on Draco Lucius Malfoy with minimal effort 😅 Oh and the classic "Scared, Malfoy" also makes an appearance as beautifully illustrated by junk-ren <3

The socio-political aspect of the story! Harry is bitten while on duty and he gets sacked bc they can't employ werewolves ????? But they can have people out there on the missions that have put them in this position in the first place? Literally what is this shit! The society's prejudice is harmful enough but what's breaking my heart is that Harry believes it. And then as we learn what exactly has happened and just how conficted Harry is about the way he is now - well, by the end of the story I couldn't help by feel proud of the progress he's made :') The way were-creatures are treated in this society is an excellent metaphore for minorities of any kinds and as a member of one such group, it felt so validating to read about it illustrated like that *melts*

So now Harry is ex-Auror, and rightfully bitter about it, he does private commsions under alias HUNTER JAMES. Yes, you're reading this right. Oh bby, you are NOT being subtle xd Draco, on the other hand, is a fugitive. Which makes for a very delicious suspense throughout the story, the boys never being sure of each other.

Bodyguard Harry while Draco is the brain of the operation !!!!! I am not okay. Literally Harry being muscle (and scents xd) of the op while Draco does all the planning. Exquisite. Also boys just... being themselves ^^

Harry pulls his arm out of Malfoy's grip and barely resists snarling at him. He's suddenly sick of being treated like Malfoy's lackey. 'I'm just the hired muscle, remember. I hardly think it matters if I look pretty.' Malfoy's mouth thins in displeasure. 'And that is exactly why you're the hired muscle and I'm the one hiring you. I know exactly what's needed for you to fit in and not embarrass me, and it's a tailored suit and you need it now. So shut up and hurry up.' Harry narrows his eyes and Malfoy does the same right back.

Werewolf Harry!!!! Scenting !!!! Protective instincts!!!!! TAKING A LITERAL KNIFE FOR DRACO AND ALmosT DyiNg WHIle Draco takes them to a safe house in the middle of nowhere AND TAKES CARE OF HIM WHILE HE’s deLiriouS. And thanks to @kk1smet we have the visual of this scene!!! There's also this little fact that Harry is able to smell bodily reactions so he’s aware of more than Draco wants him to see:

Harry waves the question away. 'So, what prep do you need me to do?' Malfoy's eyes flick across his body for an instant and Harry smells a hint of arousal. It surprises him enough that he breathes deeper, almost unconsciously, but when he meets Malfoy's eyes, there's no hint of his reaction to the words. He wonders if he's mistaken. There's no way Malfoy could be interested in him, especially not after the conversation they'd just had.

... which still doesn't make him any smarter about said reactions 😅

Not to mention his wolf part wants what it wants:

'I need some air,' Harry growls, needing to be away from Malfoy; to be away from the intensity of his emotions. It's the moon, he knows that. He always gets more protective this close to the full moon; always fixates more on people. This level of emotion, though—jealousy—is one he doesn't normally experience. He doesn't like it. He especially doesn't like that it's directed at Malfoy. Fucking wolf. 

I don't know about you but I was cheering for the wolf to have his way 🐺

Harry having the Weasleys as his pack 😭😭😭

'Hi, Harry,' Bill says, reaching out and drawing him into a hug. There's no trace of surprise in his voice. Harry spends most of his moons at the Burrow, weak and shivering through his suppressant potions as Molly fusses over him. Bill holds him tight and Harry lets himself relax into the embrace, letting the familiar sound of Bill's heartbeat relax him slightly.

Harry not accepting himself and keeping his lycanthropy a secret while Draco has ZERO PROBLEM with it AND HE FIGURED IT OUT RIGHT AWAY!!!!!!!!!!! He was literally like, yeah, cool, cool, can we go on now please? And not only that he was literally campaigning wolf rights to Harry himself!

Loyalty Bond!!!!

You wear something of mine - traditionally it would be a house sigil, but I don't think you sporting the Malfoy crest would be advisable.' Malfoy smiles, but there is no warmth in his eyes. 'Then we cast a bond that ties you to me. […] Your mind and your will would be your own. You'd just be incapable of betraying me.' He holds up his hand, clearly anticipating Harry's next objection. 'You would be able to remove the Bond at any time. You just remove the object I give you.'

And despite knowing that, Harry keeps blaming the bond for catching feelings

The bond is creating that sharp, twisting feeling, that feels like jealousy, when he watches Malfoy flirting with the brawny man opposite him.

I hate to break it to you baby but that's just you xd

Also, right after Draco tells Harry he’s not in touch with his family, Harry emphasizes immediately with such feeling:

He feels a tug of loneliness in his chest, at the thought of being without a pack. He forces himself to put ideas like that aside. Thoughts like that are dangerous. Malfoy is his path back into the Ministry and a former Death Eater who needs to be put back in Azkaban where he belongs. That's it.

Sure bby, of course, keep telling yourself that.

There's anger in the room. Sadness. Disgust. It hits him at once, all of it, and it's all he can do to keep standing. Then Malfoy is there, and the door is swinging closed again, cutting the overload off briefly. Malfoy's scent wraps around him as he clenches Harry's arm, leaning in close to look into his face. 'Hunter?' he says, his voice a mixture of annoyance and something else Harry can't quite recognise. 'What's going on?

I can recognise it, it’s concern, it’s care, it’s a hint at the delightful hurt/comfort we are about to be treated with 😄

Oh, and in the meantime, Harry WORKS OUT. Just like that, while poor Draco tries to do some research. Go check out @creeeee's work if you want to see how difficult that must have been for our favourite Slytherin 😅

Also, the UST, the lust and wanting underlying the plot. Which takes some turns but the climax is sooooo satysfying. Of both the plot and the plot-what-plot part :D Honestly, this fic is so hot, I just cannot

THE CAVE SCENE!!

I will never forget it. It was so special :') Wolf Harry!! I love him. He's just a big puppy with sharp teeth, the end. Go see @zigster-ao3's idea of Harry and his wolf and imagine them in that scene. Now you have the visual for all those feelings, good luck ever forgetting that!

Finally I loooooove how we can see their relationship changing over chapters. It so gratyfying when reading a longer fic, when you can explore their relationship's evolving from barely accepting each other to this fierce feeling of adoration.

Lastly - the last chapter. This one I don't want to spoil because honestly, I had tears in my eyes reading this. SO IYKYK 🤍🦊

'I wanted to run with you, though.'

[sincerelykimii]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓

𝐂𝐄𝐎!𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐰𝐤 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞, 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧

𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 :)

You worked for Bucky Barnes as his assistant, and Bucky was a cocky and overly confident boss who had it all, money, good looks, hot body, but that didn't mean he was a nice person, as you brought him his coffee he complained how it wasn't to his liking although it was how he likes it, as you tried to defend yourself, he cut you off. "I'm sorry? Who's the assistant here?.. that's right you..and I think this job is the only thing keeping you away from losing your home...I'd be a shame you got fired..".

I bite my bottom lip struggling to keep my composure, ever since I’ve worked for this prick he has been nothing but rude. Don’t get me wrong he’s attractive as hell but god that personality is ugly, “Sorry Mr. Barnes, I’ll get you a new one.” I say taking the coffee cup from his hand gently.

he scoffs watching you take the cup away, his eyes following your movements, his gaze lingering on your plump lips as you bite your bottom lip, he can't help but think how soft and inviting they look. He shakes his head slightly, trying to get rid of those thoughts. "You know what?" He says, I stop in my tracks, rolling my eyes before turning to face him, “what?” I say barely above a whisper. I can feel my blood boiling, ready to overflow. I would’ve quit already if it wasn’t for the money, god…I really need the money.

He leans back in his chair, a wicked smirk playing on his lips as he observes your visible irritation. Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he chuckles softly. "Actually, on second thought, forget the coffee. I think what I really need is... your opinion on something." I nod tossing the coffee in the trash, “my opinion…?” I mumble, my brows furrowing in a confused expression, I think back to last week immediately, “I don’t need your fucking opinion y/n, I know what I’m doing!” Bucky yelled right after I added onto his sentence about helping the company. Crazy thing is my opinion did help improve the company. I snap out of my thoughts as my feet lead me to the chair infront of his desk.

He watches you walk towards the chair, his eyes roaming over your figure, taking in the way your hips sway with each step. He leans forward, his elbows on the desk as he regards you with a serious expression. "Yes, y/n, your opinion. Specifically, about me." I tilt my head slightly, I’m shocked he’s even talking to me about something so…personal. At a loss for words I simply just nod my head waiting for his question. His eyes twinkle with amusement at your hesitation, clearly enjoying having you on edge. He stands up slowly, walking around the desk to lean against it, making sure to keep a decent distance but close enough to make you slightly uncomfortable. "You know what I've noticed?"

I look up at Bucky my eyes drifting to his lips occasionally, god if wasn’t so attractive I would’ve been uncomfortable with a man this close to me. “what have you noticed sir?” I say mimicking my head tilt from a few moments before, His eyes flick to my lips briefly before meeting your gaze again. He crosses his arms, his biceps bulging slightly. "I've noticed that whenever I give an order or make a decision, you always have this look on your face like you want to say something but you hold back."

I swallow nervously, this is it. he’s firing me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about sir.” I say letting the lie slip through my lips, the bitter taste making my nose scrunch ever so slightly.

Bucky’s lips curl into a knowing smirk as he watches the subtle twitches across your face, amused by your obvious discomfort and poorly concealed lie. "Oh really? Because I would swear that look on your face screams 'I have a brilliant idea that could save your ass but I'm terrified of speaking up."

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in before meeting his gaze, our eyes locking immediately. those beautiful blue eyes, the ones that send chills down my spine when I’m getting scolded for a stupid coffee mistake, the ones that glare at me when I’m biting my lip holding back the words I know I shouldn’t say, god…those beautiful fucking eyes. I don’t know what came over me but I open my mouth to say something, I’m definitely getting fired. “I’m not terrified of speaking up, I’m…I’m terrified of losing this job.”

Bucky’s smirk fades, replaced by a look of surprise, then something softer, almost tender. He uncrosses his arms, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. "Why would you think I'm going to fire you, y/n?"

I shrug my shoulders, shaking my head slightly, “you could have any assistant you want, you clearly don’t want one who speaks up.” I say glancing at the floor attempting to avoid eye contact, but my god…it’s like his eyes, his smell, his stupid smug smirk, fuck. It’s like they’re drawing me in.

Buckys takes a step closer, his presence overwhelming your senses as he gently lifts your chin with a finger, forcing you to look into his eyes. "You're wrong, y/n. I want an assistant who's smart, bold, and isn't afraid to challenge me when I'm being an idiot." I bite my bottom lip nervously, only you Bucky Barnes can make a woman nervous with just the touch of your fingertip. “you’re not firing me?” I say my eyes flickering between his. His gaze fixes intensified on your lips as you bite them nervously. "Unless you've been stealing from me or leaking company secrets, I'm definitely not firing you." His finger traces your jawline softly before dropping his hand.

I nod glancing around the room doing anything to avoid his eye contact, I can feel my cheeks heating up and god forbid I let him see. “Is that all Mr. Barnes?” I say keeping my gaze on my fingers as I fidget with my skirt. Bucky’s eyes narrow slightly at your sudden shyness, a smirk playing on his lips as he takes a step back, giving you some space. "For now, yes. But y/n?" He pauses until you meet his gaze again, his eyes dark and intense.

I look up meeting his eyes once again, “yes?” I say barely above a whisper, afraid my voice might betray me. "Start speaking up in meetings, understand?" His tone is firm but not unkind. He watches your reaction closely, wondering if you'll shrink back into your shell or finally show some of that backbone he knows you have. "And sit back down, you're fidgeting too much." I roll my eyes playfully taking a seat, “yes sir, I will.” I say confidently, maybe this prick isn’t too bad…

[nemesyaaa]

i wish i knew where to start but i really don't know. i can't believe i've only find this now when i love to read some good patrick x reader. and this one was fabulous, because i feel like pairing this guy with a crybaby!reader is something so genius. and just the way it's exploited, i want to put myself in the corner of my room and rotting in it. the fact, he's placed a gentle kiss after literally kind of bullied her, it's killing me because it's resonate in me really deep. « he wasn't a bad guy [...] But he couldn't help he got a crybaby girlfriend. » this ‼️we all know patrick is a sweet guy but gosh, give him a crybaby and he's gonna fuck her real bad (i'm talking about the mind, but it's working on both sense)

like usual, you and patrick were arguing over something petty that neither of you could remember, but that was beside the point. he was getting fed up with your snappy attitude, and when he called you out on it, you started to cry. how ironic, right? make him seek like the bad guy. it really pissed him off. because he wasn't a bad guy, but he felt as if you made him out to be the bad guy. but he couldn't help he got a crybaby girlfriend. — why i can see his face through the lines of your writings 😵‍💫

"stop fuckin' cryin' or i'll give you something to cry about." patrick threatened through gritted teeth. he sounded like a toxic parent, and per usual like the child would, you kept crying. his hand grabbed your jaw aggressively, "i ought to—" he paused, plotting. — not but in a way, it's really hot or am i too weird....tell me it's the first option...

"get on your knees." he said roughly, and as you started to protest, he grabbed your hair at the roots, pulling your on your knees. you looked up at him with ruined mascara, big teary eyes and that was all for him. but appreciation could be shown later. he hooked his thumb underneath his a gym shorts (he hardly went the the gym) shoving down his pants. following suit were his boxers. — the treatment he can gives me everytime....(Especially after gym). « but appreciation could be shown later » oh my god ?? 🫠🫠

your eyes shimmered staring down at his cock, leaking precum, and looking painfully hard. did your crying.. turn him on? you wondered, before he forcefully slammed your face onto his cock. you cried out, choking on it, his aftershaved balls tickling your nose. "givin' you somethin' to cry about, huh?" he snorted as he face fucked you, he barely received pleasure because he never gave you a chance to suck, so he opted for you to play with his balls. — toxic!patrick who make up to you with sex doesn't surprise me. i'm spiraling. angst + smut is an underrated pairing. the end sounds so bitter but it was beautiful. it makes me think of the movie blue valentine 🫶🏿😫

Patrick zweig x crybaby reader? they're arguing and he gets so fed up with her crying hell give her something to cry abt (his gorgeous dick)

-🎶

CRYBABY.ᐟREADER and patrick arguing . . .

like usual, you and patrick were arguing over something petty that neither of you could remember, but that was beside the point. he was getting fed up with your snappy attitude, and when he called you out on it, you started to cry. how ironic, right? make him seek like the bad guy. it really pissed him off. because he wasn't a bad guy, but he felt as if you made him out to be the bad guy. but he couldn't help he got a crybaby girlfriend.

"stop fuckin' cryin' or i'll give you something to cry about." patrick threatened through gritted teeth. he sounded like a toxic parent, and per usual like the child would, you kept crying. his hand grabbed your jaw aggressively, "i ought to—" he paused, plotting.

"get on your knees." he said roughly, and as you started to protest, he grabbed your hair at the roots, pulling your on your knees. you looked up at him with ruined mascara, big teary eyes and that was all for him. but appreciation could be shown later. he hooked his thumb underneath his a gym shorts (he hardly went the the gym) shoving down his pants. following suit were his boxers.

your eyes shimmered staring down at his cock, leaking precum, and looking painfully hard. did your crying.. turn him on? you wondered, before he forcefully slammed your face onto his cock. you cried out, choking on it, his aftershaved balls tickling your nose. "givin' you somethin' to cry about, huh?" he snorted as he face fucked you, he barely received pleasure because he never gave you a chance to suck, so he opted for you to play with his balls.

he groaned out, watching tears stream pass your mascara. "fuck you look s'good f'me." he used his hand free to gently tap your cheek. as your fingers gently massaged his balls, he felt release coming closer and closer. when he did let out a release, he finally pulled out your mouth, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead before shooing you away, maybe go watch tv or do dishes, but leave him alone kind of shoo.

[cherub-berry]

*:..｡o○ CRAVING SMOKE | Porco Galliard x Reader

╰┈➤ Contents: fem! reader, both Porco and reader smokes cigarettes, reader wears glasses, reader is an eldian nurse, reader carrying an injured man, mention of injury, mention of war, the aftermath of war, guilt, survivor guilt, cigarette kisses, Porco opening up, mention of Marcel, teasing and banter, writer is not good with grammar

╰┈➤ Word count: 5.9k

╰┈➤ Note: this is inspired by my illustration of Porco. I also wanted to thank my friend Ari for co-writing this fic with me, with out their help I don't think I can finish this, so a big applause for Ari!

The smell of blood and fear lingered in the air, clinging like a vice. The war had ended or so they said. But for the war veteran and survivor, it was a never-ending cycle. He stood atop his titan, smoke rising from its neck as the giant's body slumped to the ground. Porco Galliard, or as most people knew him, the Jaw Titan. The sky, once a clear blue, now darkened to shades of purple and orange, a beautiful scene if he didn’t notice the endless bodies beneath him. Eldians and Marleyans alike lay caught in the crossfire, everyone is a victim of war, even if they never participated.

Porco wishes he were a simple man with a simple dream, but what he wants is anything but simple. Yet here he is, bloodied and brooding, weighed down by the weight of a wish he never truly understood. He got what he wanted, one of the Nine Titans, but at what cost? Marcel’s death? Bertholdt’s fate? Or even the betrayal that still hangs between him and Reiner? The power, the legacy—it all feels hollow now, a cruel reminder of the sacrifices made. Each Titan form, each battle, has only deepened his pain, leaving him to wonder if the price was ever worth it.

He watches as the Warrior candidates celebrate, hugging and cheering for Gabi Braun, elated by the success of her sacrifice. He can't help but smile, ruffling her head as if to say, "Good job." But as he watches them, a bitter knot tightens in his chest. Their troop is dwindling at a rapid pace. Every single day, the enemy's weapons grow deadlier, more advanced, more terrifying. Porco himself almost tasted death recently, saved only by the Armored Titan, Reiner Braun. Meanwhile, the Warriors’ tent is filled with the sounds of laughter, men drinking tasteless alcohol and eating MREs to their heart's content. They laugh as if they don't care about what awaits them when they return home or if they'll ever return at all.

The night drags on, and eventually, the lights in the tents fade to black. Everyone is deep asleep, like corpses, except for Porco. War Chief Zeke Yeager is awake too. Zeke is focused on a book—a children's book, of all things. How peculiar, Porco thought. But this is Zeke, no one can ever guess what he's really thinking. A metallic mug of coffee is clutched in Zeke's left hand, while his right flips through the pages of the book.

"Stop staring so much, you're going to make me blush," Zeke muttered, his eyes still transfixed on the pages.

Porco raised an eyebrow, gesturing toward the book. "Is it interesting? I mean, it’s a children’s book."

Zeke glanced up briefly, taking a sip of his coffee. "It has its charms. You never know until you read it."

Porco smirked. "Charms? For a kid’s story?" He sat up on his cot. "You’re not getting soft on me, are you?"

Zeke chuckled, eyes back on the book. “Soft? Perhaps. We need more simple things in a chaotic world that's going to fall apart”

The Jaw Titan studied him for a moment, watching as the man in front of him tracing the book cover. He shrugged “can’t say I found comfort in kids’ stories. But hey, if it helps you sleep at night…”

After a long pause, Zeke smiled at him. Closing the book and finishing his coffee. “The world needs hope more that it needs war, even if it's for a brief moment”

The night hung heavy around them as Porco fell silent, he can't lie Zeke is a very interesting person, but also a dangerous one.

"Gonna go smoke for a bit," Porco said, breaking the silence.

"If I were you, I wouldn't," Zeke muttered. "The war is over for us, but not for the nurses. It’s chaos out there.”

Porco ignored Zeke’s warning and headed out into the night. The cold air hit him immediately, as a gust of wind tousled his hair. He pulled his jacket tighter around himself, exhaling smoke into the crisp night. The silence outside was different—empty, almost suffocating. He stood there for a while, letting the chill sink in, his thoughts drifting as the smoke swirled upward. Zeke’s words echoed in his mind, but he pushed them aside.

He lights a cigarette and exhales a cloud of nicotine into the frigid air, the wind growing sharper and colder. He glances into the distance, where the medical tents stand far from the others. The muffled sounds of screaming and crying drift toward him. Unlike the warriors' tent—silent, warm, and inviting, the medical tents are bright, chaotic, and soaked in blood. Curiosity tugs at him, and he steps closer. The screams grow louder, and he sees nurses rushing about, covered in blood, their faces hidden behind masks and surgical gloves.

The head nurse stumbles by, her eyes wide with panic as she clutches the gruesome bandage “what are you doing here!? Stay back,” her voice strained. “We're losing him, quickly, morphine!”.

Porco watches in silence, in awe. Cigarette forgotten as the ashes drop down to the dirt floor. Another nurse passed him, not glancing at him. Her gaze never meeting his. Zeke was right, it's war here.

Your hands are shaking as you struggle to open the morphine bottle, the lid slipping from your trembling fingers. As you fumble, your glasses slide down your nose and nearly fall off, but you barely notice, too focused on the task at hand.

Getting a syringe you dipped the needle into the bottle giving it a light tap before injecting it into the dying man, preparing him for the pain that will follow.

Time seemed to slow down for Porco as he watched the nurses rushing to help the unconscious man. Every moment felt stretched, the hurried movements of the medical staff blending into a blur of urgency, while his own focus remained locked on the scene unfolding before him.

But one nurse stood out to Porco—the woman with glasses. She didn’t appear much older than he was, yet she was carrying a half-dead man alone, her movements steady and deliberate despite the heavy burden. The sight of her, focused and determined, carrying the unconscious man toward the operating tent, struck Porco deeply. To him the woman was not only carrying his life, but the hopes of a fallen soldier.

“It's going to be okay Mr. Charlie! You're going to go home soon,” You said, gently lowering him on the bed, reassuring him and also yourself.

Nurses swarmed around the man, preparing him for surgery, while your hand trembled, heavy with the responsibility of his life.Your chest tightens, the weight of the moment pressing down, and your breath catches in your throat. It's the sudden, overwhelming realization of how fragile life is, how much is at stake in this very moment.

“(Name), you did well today. You can take the rest of the night off,” One of the older nurses said, putting on her mask and surgical gloves.

You nod quietly, too exhausted to argue. In truth, you wanted to stay—to assist the nurses, to see the surgery through. But as you turn to leave the surgical tents, the weight of your fatigue pulls you away, each step heavy as you step out into the cool night air.

The breeze brushes against your skin, a soft, fleeting touch, like a kiss that might vanish at any moment. Adjusting your glasses you finally notice a young man staring outside one of the tents, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. You approach him and tap his shoulder once—did he not feel it? You tap again, then speak.

“Excuse me, sir, you're not allowed to smoke here.”

“Shit, sorry.” He drops the cigarette and crushes it under his boot. His voice sounds distant, almost detached, but there’s an unmistakable tension in his posture. Though his face remains calm, his eyes reveal a different story, one of turmoil and inner conflict that he’s trying hard to hide.

You look at him from head to toe. You know this man, the infamous Jaw Titan. His face carries the unmistakable feature that haunts Liberio. Nurses often fawn over the warriors, often calling the man in front of you “a handsome asshole with a good heart”. A certain charm behind those cold and rigid eyes that will make people swoon.

Porco’s eyes met yours. And for a moment, your breath catches. There's something undoubtedly intimate in his gaze—unacknowledged attraction. The connection feels so short yet so magnetic, it makes you want his gaze even more.

“You’ve got something on your cheek,” He says, pointing to his face to clarify.

Your eyes widen slightly as you quickly wipe your cheek, only to see the dark stain of blood smeared across your skin. Maybe he wasn’t looking at your eyes after all—maybe it was your cheek he was focused on. A wave of self-consciousness hits you as you glance down at your uniform, now caked in dirt and blood. The grime and the mess suddenly seem more obvious, and you can’t shake the feeling of being exposed, like all the weight of the day’s chaos has left its mark on you.

"Thanks..." The words barely escape your throat, soft and barely audible.

"Mr. Galliard, if you're looking to smoke, I know a place." You clear your throat, hoping the sudden awkwardness doesn’t linger.

He glances at you, then back at the ground. "Oh—uh, sure. Lead the way." His tone is a mix of surprise and something else, almost like he wasn’t expecting an offer, but couldn’t refuse it either.

You lead him into the cool evening, the air carrying a sharp bite that makes the night feel even more isolated. As you walk side by side, the silence between you both is oddly comfortable. The faint crunch of gravel beneath your boots is the only sound, and you’re acutely aware of his presence beside you—his movements casual, but you can tell he’s paying attention to the surroundings.

You guide him to the back of an old, abandoned shed, though calling it a shed feels generous. It’s little more than a crumbling wooden wall with a rusted door, barely standing against the wind. The dim light from the nearby lanterns casts long shadows, adding a sense of quiet intimacy to the moment. It’s a place hidden from prying eyes, and as you both step into the shelter, the world outside feels just a little more distant, a little more forgotten.

“Here we are, enjoy your time Mr. Galliard. Goodnight,” You pivot on your heel and head back toward the nurses' tent, hoping to find some rest or at least a brief moment of peace away from the chaos.

A calloused hand reaches out, brushing against yours. You turn back, and for a split second, you catch the blonde man’s eyes. They flicker from yours to the ground, his brows furrowing in a quiet struggle, as if debating something he can’t quite put into words. He lowers his hand slowly, almost surprised by his own gesture.

“I—uh, forget it. Goodnight,” he mutters, the words awkward and heavy, like he’s wrestling with a thought he isn’t ready to share.

His eyes linger just a little longer than necessary, betraying the quiet curiosity that seems to hang in the air between you—an unspoken desire to know more, but uncertainty keeping him at arm’s length.

You know he wanted to know. The makeshift question barrelling in your head: how did you know this place? The question feels simple yet complicated.

You smile softly at him, feeling the weight of the moment shift. Sliding down the wall, you settle onto the ground, your posture casual but inviting. You pat the spot next to you, looking up at him with a quiet, unspoken request.

"Sit with me?"

For a moment, he hesitates, eyes flicking between the empty space beside you and your face, as if debating whether to break the distance or remain standing. After a beat, he lowers himself slowly, sitting beside you without a word. Shoulders almost brushing, his body heat radiating.

You slip your hand into the pocket of your uniform, pulling out a cigarette box, the edges worn from constant use. You shake it lightly, feeling the last few sticks inside, then retrieve an almost empty lighter, the flame flickering weakly at your fingertips.

“I didn't know nurses can smoke,” He says, you can hear faint hint of a smile in his voice.

“Well, we aren't supposed to,” you reply, taking a drag and letting the smoke curl up into the air, "But I still do anyway.”

He chuckles softly. "I guess some rules are meant to be bent."

You exhale slowly, watching the smoke dissipate in the cool evening air. "Maybe. But it's not exactly the healthiest habit, either way.”

“You should tell that to Zeke.” he says, a grin creeping in.

"The head nurse has," you reply with a dry laugh, "She told him to quit, but he just keeps on going. It’s like telling a cat to stop being a cat." You take a long drag, enjoying the bite of the smoke as you watch the haze swirl around you.

Porco watches you exhale another puff of smoke, his gaze following the way the smoke curls into the air. After a moment, he pulls out his own cigarette and a lighter from his jacket, biting the tip between his lips with a small grunt of concentration. He flicks the lighter, but the flame sputters out before it can catch, the tiny spark vanishing into the cool night. He shakes the lighter impatiently, then tries again, only for it to fail once more. With a frustrated sigh, he tosses the lighter aside with a muttered curse.

“Can I borrow yours?” He points toward your lighter with a half-embarrassed look.

You nod, handing it to him. He takes it and flicks the fuse multiple times, but again, the flame refuses to appear.

"Guess no cigarette for me tonight," he says, a hint of disappointment in his voice, as he hands it back to you. "Lucky you. You've got all the fire."

You chuckle softly, slipping the lighter back into your pocket. "Maybe it’s a sign you’re not meant to smoke tonight."

He smirks, rolling his eyes. "Could be.”

“Here, I'll share mine with you. Get close”

Porco raises an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. You bring the lit cigarette back up to your lips and position it so the glowing tip is almost exactly in line with his—just a hair's breath apart, the two cigarettes hovering close. He leans in slightly, and you both, without missing a beat, gently bring your lips together, the tips of your cigarettes now nearly touching.

For a brief, intense moment, you both exhale at the same time, the smoke mixing and swirling around you, the soft glow of the lit tips connecting in a silent, almost intimate dance. The flame transfers easily between the cigarettes, igniting his with a soft hiss. He takes a quick drag as you pull back, both of you now holding your cigarettes with your lips.

"Now that’s how you light a cigarette," you say with a grin, watching him as he exhales, a small smile creeping onto his face.

Porco chuckles, still holding the cigarette between his lips. "You’re full of surprises, huh?"

You shrug casually, the smoke trailing lazily in the air. "I like to keep things interesting."

For a moment, the world feels quieter, the shared action something unspoken, just a little closer than it probably should be. A little too intimate than it should be. You lower your hand to the ground, just a breath away from his, the space between your fingers humming with an unspoken promise. You linger there, so close that the air seems to tremble with the possibility of touch, but neither of you moves.

Porco raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing as he glances at your hand, hovering near his. "Careful," he says, voice low, a teasing edge to it. "You might be getting a little too close for comfort."

You hold his gaze, a small, knowing smile playing at the corner of your lips. "Comfort’s overrated," you reply, fingers barely brushing the edge of his.

His eyes flicked between you and your hand. “You're the type to make things complicated, aren't you?

You stretch your body, your spine arching gracefully as you move, the motion fluid and effortless. His gaze follows you, intent and focused, drawn to the curve of your back with an almost predatory intensity. You feel the weight of his eyes on you, but you don't falter. As you shift, your hand drifts even closer to his, the space between you shrinking with every deliberate inch. You hold his gaze, a quiet confidence in your eyes.

"Only when it's worth it," you say, your voice soft but clear, as if the words are as much a challenge as an invitation.

Porco's gaze sharpens, he takes a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling the gray smoke to the cold night sky. “Is this one of those moments?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you shift your hand a fraction closer, just enough to send a jolt of tension through the air. "Maybe," you say softly. "Maybe not."

His lips quirk upward, the challenge in his eyes clear. "You’re a tease. I kind of like it.”

The air hangs heavy with tension, thick and almost suffocating. Neither of you dares to move, as if any shift would shatter the moment. The silence between you is electric, every heartbeat magnified, the space between you pulsing with something unspoken.

“You're not going to make this easy, aren't you?” He asked, voice husky and hushed.

“Where's the fun in easy?”

"I like seeing how far I can push before things... change," you murmur, your eyes locking with his, daring him to respond.

He leans in, just a fraction, closing the distance with a teasing, almost unreadable look. "Is that what you want? To see what happens when everything shifts?”

You challenge him with a quiet smile. “Maybe I do”

Porco’s gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips, his breath catching ever so slightly. His pulse quickens, the subtle shift in his expression betraying the tension building between you both. There’s a brief hesitation, a quiet moment where it feels like time itself has paused, before his focus sharpens again, drawn in by something deeper, something he can’t quite pull away from.

“You're going to keep looking, or do something about it?” You challenged.

He chuckles softly, a low rumble vibrating between you two. “You sure you want me to?”

“You're the one getting closer.”

His hand shifts just slightly, brushing against yours, and for a split second, you think he might pull away. But then, his fingers curl around yours, slow and deliberate, the touch grounding in a way that feels more intimate than anything that’s come before.

"Guess you’re right" he murmurs, his voice barely above a breath. "Maybe I’ve already done something about it ”

You take his hand in yours, your fingers gently tracing the rough lines of his calloused skin. The touch is tender, lingering, as if you're mapping out the very contours of his hand, feeling the strength in every worn ridge.

His soft lips graze yours, a delicate touch that lingers in the air. The scent of cigarettes, faint and smoky, clings to him, but it fades as you close your eyes and melt into his kiss. In that moment, the world blurs—the chaos, the noise—everything softens, leaving just the rhythm of his breath and the warmth of his presence.

The touch of his warm hand feels like a warm lantern in the dark and cold of the night. It's a comfort, a reassurance that you never knew you needed until now. You wish for nothing more than his touch, his presence, to stay with you, to never let go. In this fleeting moment, everything else fades away, and all that matters is the warmth of his hand in yours. You never want to leave this small, perfect moment.

You pull apart first, your cheek flushed, the rush of blood making your head spin. You’ve kissed others before—men and women, but none of those kisses were like this. Not this urgent, not this brief. There’s something about it that stirs something deeper inside you. You feel shy, vulnerable, as if something sacred has just unfolded between you. His warm eyes meet yours, looking at you with such intensity that it threatens to overwhelm you. Something catches in your throat, and you blink rapidly, fighting back tears. It’s a moment you never want to forget, a fleeting piece of time you wish you could hold on to forever.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly, hand caressing yours.

You swallow, steadying your breath. “I—yeah, just… I never felt like this. Its so different.”

“Different good, I hope?” He said softly, placing his forehead gently against yours.

You nodded, the closeness is making your heart race. “Yeah, different good”

He stays there for a heartbeat longer, unwilling to pull away, as if afraid the quiet connection between you might vanish the moment he does. The world around you is eerily still—too still for a soldier like him. It feels too gentle, too faint, a softness he's not accustomed to. His heart beats faster, the silence pressing in around you both.

You rest your head to his shoulder, looking at the cigarette in your hand so fondly. “It's so…quiet”

He shifts slightly, his warmth pressing against you, grounding you in the quiet. “Yeah,” he says softly, his voice almost drowned by the peace surrounding you both. “Feels strange, doesn’t it?” He takes a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke curls upwards, disappearing into the night.

“I feel like a storm is about to happen” You whispered, voice certain. The words hang in the air, as if they were supposed to happen.

He turned towards you, his expression unreadable for a moment as he studied your face. "Ugh, I hate this," He muttered, a dry humor lacing his voice. "After this hell of a storm, there's another one waiting. What a drag." He let out a short, humorless chuckle, but his face remained unreadable, the tension in his eyes betraying the joke.

“A warrior can’t catch a break, huh?” You teased, a grin playing at the edges of your lips.

“Nope,” he shot back, the word blunt, almost with a hint of amusement, as if the irony of it all wasn’t lost on him.

“Honestly, if I were a Titan Shifter, there’s no way I’d have the guts to bite my hand or slice it open to transform,” You say, chuckling at the thought of it.

He takes a drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke with a grin. "You should try it, it’s a real rush." He taps the cigarette, letting the ashes fall to the ground.

You shake your head, smiling “Uh—huh, sure. ‘cause nothing says fun like turning into a giant nutcracker wrecking everything in sight.”

“It's oddly therapeutic, you should try it sometime. Nothing like the feeling of smashing stuff to really clear your head.”

The banter continues, but with each passing minute, the mood shifts. Your laughter fades, swallowed by the deeper currents of the conversation. You both sit there, the world moving around you, but the two of you remain anchored to the moment, surrounded by the haze of smoke and words that were meant to be light but now feel heavy.

Your cigarette, now little more than a smoldering nub, threatens to fall, but neither of you moves to snuff it out. It's one of those moments that doesn’t seem to need much attention, as if the world’s outside the bubble you’ve created. A bubble where jokes come easy and laughter rings free, even though neither of you could be further from truly being carefree.

You glance over at him—the man beside you, Porco Galliard. The man who has seen and done things you couldn’t even begin to imagine. The man whose hands have taken countless lives for the sake of his country, soldiers who never had a chance. The man who wears the burden of the Titan Shifters curse like a second skin. And yet, despite all of that, here he is, sitting beside you, casually flicking ash from his cigarette as if this were the most normal conversation in the world.

"You think smashing things is fun?" you ask again, this time with less sarcasm, more curiosity. A genuine question.

Porco pauses, his gaze shifting toward the horizon for a moment. When he speaks, his voice is steady but edged with something darker. "I'm smashing things because of orders. It's not fun at all. It's torture.”

“You ever get tired of it?" You ask, not sure what answer you're hoping for. You expect him to laugh, to brush it off, maybe even make another joke. But instead, he seems to sink deeper into his thoughts, his gaze fixed on something distant.

“Tired? You don't get tired. You just keep going, that's all you can do. You just keep moving and hope that you're not too far gone to realize you've lost everything.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and final, but you can see it in his eyes—he knows the truth. He’s lost everything. The weight of it settles around him like a shroud, suffocating, unspoken. He still has his parents, but that’s not enough. Not without Marcel. Without Marcel, what’s left for him? The bond they shared, the brotherhood, was the one thing that tethered him to something real, something that made the endless violence and sacrifice bearable. But now, in the aftermath, it’s all gone.

You listen to Porco’s words, and for a moment, the air between you feels thick, like there’s more than just the weight of the conversation in that space. There’s something you both share now, something you never thought you’d relate to.

Your fingers brush the cold metal of the lighter in your pocket, instinctively reaching for it. You’ve held it a thousand times before, but tonight, it feels heavier than it ever has. The two wings carved into the surface—delicate and intricate—are a reminder of a place you can never go back to, a memory that’s already fading at the edges. A gift from back home. A piece of something you’ve left behind, but it doesn’t feel like a gift anymore. It feels like a weight.

Guilt surges up from somewhere deep inside you, twisting your stomach. You close your eyes for a brief second, overwhelmed by the flood of memories that rush in. Home, warmth, faces you can’t recall without pain. The weight of responsibility that was thrust upon your shoulders—too young, too unprepared, yet here you are, carrying the same heavy burden that Porco now bears, the same impossible task of surviving a world that seems to demand too much.

Your hand tightens around the lighter, but the feeling of loss doesn’t ease. It only makes the ache sharper, a reminder that you can’t go back, and you can’t undo what’s already been done.

“I have also lost some important people in my life, the people that have shaped me to be who I am now.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, and for a brief moment, you almost regret saying anything at all. But there's a truth in it, something raw and real that hangs in the air between you both. The people who helped mold you, who gave you purpose, who made you feel human—those are the ones that stick with you, long after they’re gone. And it’s their absence that leaves the deepest scars.

“It’s like they’re still with you, but not really,” you add, your voice distant. “You carry them with you, but sometimes it feels like they’re just ghosts. And all you can do is try to make sense of it all, even when it doesn’t make sense anymore.”

"You know," he says after a beat, the humor in his voice gone, replaced by something more subdued, "sometimes I wonder if I'd be less of a mess if he was still around. Maybe he could’ve talked me out of some of the shit I’ve done.”

You don’t respond right away. The shift in his tone isn’t lost on you. It’s not the playful jab you’d been expecting, but something rawer, something closer to the truth than either of you had expected to share.

"You don't need him to tell you what’s right or wrong, Porco," you say softly, trying to keep the conversation grounded. "You’ve been making your own choices for a long time now. Maybe it’s time you stop leaning on ghosts to figure out what you’re doing.”

Porco’s gaze flickers toward you, a wry smile tugging at his lips, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Guess you’re right. But it sure would’ve been nice to have someone who actually got it. Someone who didn't treat me like a fucking weapon.”

You feel the words hit you harder than expected. "You know, you’re not just a weapon, Porco. And you’re not the only one who's ever felt like one." The words spill out before you can stop them, the quiet vulnerability in your own voice surprising even you. You didn’t expect to be the one offering comfort here, but somehow, it feels right.

Porco takes a long moment to respond, staring at the cigarette between his fingers before flicking the ash off into the night. “Yeah, well, it’s hard not to feel like one when that’s all anyone’s ever used you for.”

You don’t have an answer for that. Instead, you let the quiet settle in again, the space between you two filled with an understanding that doesn’t need words.The conversation, like everything else, eventually fades into something quieter, easier. But there’s still the lingering feeling that, despite the ghosts, despite the weight of everything that’s been said and done, you’re both still here. Still standing. Still breathing.

“Maybe one day we’ll stop letting the past haunt us so much,” you say, almost to yourself, more as a hope than a statement. "Maybe then we’ll figure out who we really are, without all the ghosts.”

Porco glances at you, that familiar smirk returning, though there’s something softer about it now. "Maybe. But I wouldn’t hold my breath."

You grin, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “Yeah, well, we’ve been breathing this long, haven’t we?”

The two of you share a quiet laugh, and for a moment, the world feels a little lighter, the weight of the past suspended in the air around you. The sound of your laughter breaks the tension, and you take a deep breath, letting it all go for just a second.

You glance down at the short bud of your cigarette, finally snuffing it out on the ground, watching as the small amber glow fades.

"This has been one interesting conversation, don't you think?" you say, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Yeah, it has been," he says, his voice softening a bit. "I kinda enjoyed this..." He glances at you for a moment, his expression unexpectedly earnest, before looking down and snuffing out his own cigarette.

You yawn, the small droplets of tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. The conversation had been so engaging, so full of playful teasing and back-and-forth, that you hadn't even noticed how tired you were becoming. The words and laughter had kept you wide awake, but now, with the sudden stillness between you two, the exhaustion caught up to you all at once.

You rub your eyes, stifling another yawn, and glance at Porco. "Guess I didn’t realize how tired I was," you admit, your voice a bit slower now. "This conversation’s been so much fun, I almost forgot about sleep.”

Porco glances at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Didn’t think a conversation could wear you out," he says, his tone light but with a hint of amusement. "Guess I’m just that interesting, huh?"

You let out a soft laugh, rubbing your eyes. "I think it’s just a combination of you and how late it’s gotten.”

Feeling the drowsiness creeping in fully now. Porco watches you for a moment, his smirk replaced with something more genuine. "Take care of yourself, alright? Don’t keep your bed waiting.”

You flash him a tired smile, nodding.”I'll try, need a shower first though. See you around, Mr. Galliard.”

You pivot on your heel, heading toward the nurses' barrack, but suddenly stop, realizing you’ve forgotten something. Turning back, you casually call over your shoulder, “Oh, and if you ever need some tender, love, and care, just head to the Marley Military Hospital and ask for (Name) (Last name).” You drop your name nonchalantly, a playful glint in your eyes.

As you glance back, you catch Porco scratching the back of his neck, his ears tinged pink, a smirk tugging at his lips. He seems caught off guard, yet amused by your casual remark.

The man glanced at you one last time before walking back in the opposite direction, a strange warmth settling in his chest. There was a sense of closeness, an unspoken connection that lingered in the air. He knew he’d see you again.

As he entered the barrack and made his way to his cot, a giddy excitement bubbled up inside him, the feeling of anticipation and something more—something he couldn’t quite place, leaving him smiling to himself as he settled in for the night.

As he lay down on his cot, the blanket feeling unusually warm around him, a smile spread across his face. There was something about the way you had casually dropped your name, something about the playful teasing and the easy way you two had connected, that had stirred something inside him. It wasn’t just the usual flirtation, it felt like the start of something new, something exciting.

He turned onto his side, eyes closing, but his mind was far from the quiet darkness of the barracks. Instead, it was filled with the memory of your smile, the sound of your voice, and that small spark of warmth he couldn’t ignore.

His heart thudded with that familiar feeling like the glow of a new flame flickering to life. It was different from anything he’d felt before, but it was real. He could feel it deep in his chest, the flutter of excitement, the anticipation of what might come next.

He chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head as he finally allowed himself to drift off to sleep, his thoughts still lingering on you. He had a feeling that this new connection—this spark was only just the beginning.

Just like the cigarettes, the two of you had snuffed out the conversation, the words fading into silence. What had been a lively, playful exchange now rested quietly, the air still with the echoes of your teasing and laughter. As the both of you walked away, the moment came to an end, leaving behind a comfortable sense of finality, like the last ember of a cigarette dying out. The connection had been made, and now, it was simply a matter of waiting for the next time.

[alasy]

From now on, I declare The Mirror Visitor is a trilogy. There's no fourth book, trust me. Just enjoy the first three and move on <3

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

I said I wasn't going to get started on the topic of Aveline ruining Carver's chances with the guard but I lied okay, it's Carver Hawke defense hours.

Here's the thing; it doesn't matter if you believe Carver was or wasn't fit for the guard. That's a different debate that I'll get to. What matters is Aveline's in no position to tell the guard not to accept his application. Why does she think that's her right to judge whether or not he's fit?

Carver should've had the chance to prove himself one way or another. If it turns out he's not a good fit, then let him fail. Let him learn from it.

"Oh but failure could mean lost lives-"

Aveline doesn't get to talk shit about failure and the people. Plenty have died on her watch yet she still believes she's a good guard and Guard-Captain.

"maybe Aveline's protecting him, Carver could die while on patrol-"

Carver could die working in the Bone Pit, or serving as a templar, or when he's running around with Hawke. Carver could trip and fall down a set of stairs and die. In fact, he can die in the Deep Roads, somewhere he wouldn't have to go if the Hawke's weren't desperate.

Either Carver fails as a guard, or more likely, he succeeds and proves himself worthy of it.

But let's be real, Carver probably kept getting rejected due to being a Fereldan with a past of smuggling/mercenary work and Aveline only reaffirmed the decision, either because they asked her what she thought or she stuck her nose in unprompted.

But what irritates me is that she admits to telling them not to accept his application, and then has the balls to call Carver too proud to take up a trade or find another line of work.

Carver tells her, "And who would take on a Fereldan apprentice? Maybe in another year I could work my way up to pissboy." He has a good point here. Aside from the guard, the only other place Carver could work and use his skillset is with the Templars. Or go back to mercenary/smuggling work.

And Aveline doesn't even have a real answer for him. No suggestions, no encouragement, nothing. Just "Fine, let's crawl down some holes. Good bloody luck for your sake."

Also, if you do the Mark of the Assassin DLC in Act 1-

Aveline: You should see if any of the noblemen are looking for new men-at-arms. Carver: Are you trying to get rid of me? Aveline: It's a role with some autonomy. A good fit with your training and... tendencies. Carver: After serving King Cailan? You want me to suffer some poncy git who needs two servants to wipe his own ass? I'll find my own way, thanks. Aveline: I wish you would.

You wish he would?? Aveline, he was trying to find his way into the guard, a position he'd make a good fit for, and you helped deny him of it because YOU didn't think he would be good enough, I just-

If I haven't made it clear yet, I firmly believe that Carver would've made a great guard. He wants to help people, to be a protector. He's loyal, and despite what Aveline claims, he can follow orders and take his duty seriously. We see him do incredibly well with the Grey Wardens, after all. If he were a guard, he wouldn't have to go down into the Deep Roads with Hawke, and I think he would've been okay with that! He's so hurt and bitter when you leave him behind because that effectively tells him, "I don't need you." Carver's spent the whole first act telling you he wants to go on the expedition aka that he wants to be needed.

But if he were a guard, he would be needed elsewhere. He'd be in training as a recruit. He'd look after Leandra while you go. He wouldn't be backed into a corner with no income and only the templars left as his chance at forging his own path and providing for his family.

He doesn't get that opportunity, though.

By the way, if he becomes a warden, you can get this banter:

Aveline: I'm glad you found a place with the Wardens. Carver: Well, it's not the city guard, but it'll do. Aveline: Carver... it wasn't the place for you. Carver: No, it's all right. It is. It cost a lot, but I get it. I really was a bit of a tit those days, wasn't I? Aveline: Well...

This banter makes me want to scream.

Aveline's just... she's so insistent that she's right. She's someone who will double down rather than entertain the idea that she's wrong and it's not just with Carver and the guard, it's with everything. The "my beef with Aveline" list gets longer and longer every time I replay da2, I swear.

Say what you will about Carver, whether you think he would've been a good fit or if Aveline's right and it wasn't for him, he was denied a chance and it cost him so much in the end. He either dies, or he joins the templars where he deals with Chantry's bullshit trying to brainwash him with "mages aren't people" and "magic is a cancer in this world", or he's infected with the blight and becomes a Grey Warden, forced to serve the rest of his life fighting darkspawn, tormented by voices and nightmares.

I will never not be bitter about this.

[owlyflufff]

haikyu's dumpster batte is only going to be around 1 hour and 24 minutes, oh it's genuinely bokuakaover

[spiralsandeyes]

jude perry....

[scoobydoodean]

#but is this a safe space to be honest tho#definitely letting that go on and on unaddressed was in character for Dean and he was handling it#good for him#but i was a bit baffled that everyone else was like#oh you got this then? good deal#i mean i know they were worried but it just seemed ooc that sam and cas weren't like obsessively trying to deal with it#they both know how strong arch angels can be#and sam especially would have baggage about having an angel hanging out and banging on your brain cells indefinitely...#idk just seemed weird#but dean#good job sweetie#we're all so proud (via @minxyone93)

No but you're right. Like. Not to turn a simple post about Dean being a badass into a bitter post but you're RIGHT. Dean was worried enough about his control slipping and Michael escaping to make his mal'ak box plan. One would think that that would have impressed the seriousness of Dean's condition on the group. But two episodes later in Ouroboros, Sam is already being avoidant again and ignoring that Dean is not okay. When Rowena pushes him on how Dean is possibly managing, he insists that Dean is fine, "Because he's Dean. And Dean is Dean. He's fine." Sam insists that working is what's best for all of them, when it objectively isn't. It is a stupid and unnecessary risk to place Dean in the line of fire, and it backfires absolutely spectacularly.

Cas notes while they are working the case that Dean just sitting and drinking a cup of coffee is a herculean feat. And Dean opens up to him about not being okay, and also about feeling he is not really allowed to say that because dealing is expected of him no matter what.

Castiel: Are you really fine? Dean: I don't know, Cas. But that's what I'm supposed to say, right? "I'm fine," keep on moving? That's what we all say. Castiel: No, Dean. Dean: Okay. There's this pounding in my head. It never stops. Michael's in there, and he is fighting hard to get out. And I can't let my guard down not for a second. I'm barely even sleeping. Castiel: Well, that's not sustainable. Dean: No. No. It's probably not. But no point in complaining about it. It's on me. Castiel: No. It's on us. We are here to help you.

Dean tells Cas he is barely sleeping and that he cannot let his guard down for even a second, and Cas says that is unsustainable and that they're there to help him... but... are they? Because Dean being on this case at all is absolutely idiotic given the information Dean has previously and just now revealed about the tenuous hold he has on Michael. And still... no one suggests that Dean does not have to force himself to do this case with them— that it's a bad idea to bring Dean on a case involving an incredibly powerful, slippery monster they've never faced before while Dean is barely able to sleep and unable to let his guard down for even a moment. And lo and behold—Dean's head gets repeatedly smashed into a fucking wall and Michael gets out.

You ever just remember Dean kept an archangel trapped in his mind for months on nothing but sheer willpower?

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 5!!!

[dragonjesterwrites]

One thing that will bug me probably forever is one of Moon's new lines in Help Wanted 2.

"What makes you so special?"

Like- he says it with such bitterness. Why though. Is he jealous of the player? Over what? What do you mean by that Moonman

[kyofsonder]

Physically, I'm already lying down.

Emotionally, I feel like I need to find a soft spot and crumple dramatically to the ground and lay down for a few weeks.

[mothymayhem]

Telling people you cannot drive, legally, due to disability feels like telling someone "hey! I'll never amount to anything and never live a happy life!"

Cause that's how people will always react. Part of me feels they're right to react like so. Cause it does suck and I can't work outside my immediate area and nobody wants to hire somebody who does not have a valid mode of transport.

The alternative? Spend money buying an Uber 5 days out the week. To and from. Which still isn't reliable enough of transport.

It's so frustrating. And there is nothing I can do to fix it. There is no surgery. There is no medicine I can take for it. It is something I just have to live with and it sucks.

[thescreamcorner]

friendly reminder that to some degree, you are responsible for curating your own experience online and if someone crosstagging is making you see content you don't want to see, it's not the responsibility of the other blogger to not crosstag (especially when the post is about multiple things at once), it's your responsibility to either block them or the tag. And if the crosstag is actually incorrect and you feel the need to say something, don't be a(n ableist) dickbag about it.