#and some lighting at the base of the arms

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 51: Back To The Start

Summary: Now that you're back on base there's some adjustments that have to be made in order to make things as painless as possible.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 9,471 words

Warnings: Alternate Universe, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, angst, emotions, flashbacks, PTSD, angst, military inaccuracies, weapons, angst, language, some rehashing of previous chapters events

A/N: So this went in a different direction than I planned but we'll get there soon enough. This story is going to be 392040 chapters long atp

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“I told you this was a bad idea.”

“We didn’t have any choice.”

“There were ways to do this that could have avoided bringing her here.”

John stares hard at Simon, into the gap in his mask where his eyes stick out. He had donned the mask before they left the cottage, reverting back to old habits. He knows why Simon does it, why Simon insists on keeping himself hidden from those outside his pack.

He would have preferred to have this conversation in his office, away from where you might overhear, but the alpha had been on him as soon as they were away from the rec room.

“Like what?” He asks, crossing his arms.

“We could have gotten an apartment.”

“She couldn’t be left there by herself. That would be too dangerous.” John counters.

“We could have taken her to one of our families. Let her stay with them.” Simon says.

“I don’t know how long this will take. It’s not fair for us to burden them with taking care of our omega.”

Simon stares at John for a long moment. “You’re afraid of separation.”

John swallows thickly. Of course Simon would be able to read him so easily. “The last time I left her I nearly lost her. I’m not willing to risk that happening again.”

“So you’ll keep her here where she’s unhappy?” Simon gives him a look. “What are we going to do when we have to train or run drills? We don’t have anyone to lean on this time. We can’t leave her in here alone.”

“One of us will stay here with her, or we’ll bring her with us. We’ve done it before.” John hates to admit that Simon is right, but there’s no other option. “It’s only for a few weeks. This is the best option and we’ll do our best to make this as painless as possible.”

Simon stands up straighter, getting close to him. “It’s going to be painful for her no matter what. She’s not like us, John. She can’t just forget.”

Simon brushes past him, heading down the hallway before turning left towards the rooms. John hates that Simon is so right, but he’s brought up good points. They don’t have Dr. Keller to lean on this time. He knows if he called she’d come back without hesitation, but he won’t. She’s moved on to her new life and she deserves to live it. He can’t leave you here alone again, not after what happened the last time he did that. He’s worried, but he knows there really is no other option for them. They have to do this, have to make it through the next few weeks and hope his paperwork gets processed sooner rather than later.

The couch is just as uncomfortable as you remember. It never was comfortable, but it was what you had available. Now, after seeing what you could have, it’s almost unbearable. You miss the soft couches, the soft light, the crackle of the fire in the fireplace. You miss the soft colors and the warmth, the freedom that the cottage presented.

Now you’re trapped back in a prison, a prison of nightmares. It’s not just unwelcoming, it’s depressing and full of horrible memories. Broken promises, insecurity about yourself and your pack, anxiety about every aspect of your life, fear that something might happen to you or your pack, terror from the threat on your life. So much heartbreak has happened here that being back in it feels as if your heart is breaking all over again.

“I know it’s hard.” Kyle says softly. Your head is pillowed in his lap, his fingers gently massaging your scalp. There’s a blanket tossed over you, one Johnny had dug out of the boxes currently stacked in the hallway.

They’d abandoned unpacking and moving boxes as soon as your panic attack happened. If you weren’t so upset still, you’d almost find it endearing. How much they’ve changed from the cold, battle-hardened soldiers you met over a year ago.

Johnny is cleaning the rec room, keeping his hands busy after affirming you were going to be okay. Were you really? Debatable, but you knew he needed to do something. The barracks haven’t been cleaned in months and there’s quite the build up of dust across every surface. There’s a stale smell as well, not musty but like air that’s been stagnant too long. No one’s been inside to disturb it, to bring it back to life until now.

John and Simon went away to argue. You know that’s what happened as soon as Simon got you settled on the couch with Kyle. You wish John were in here now, comforting you, but you know they’re having a discussion leader to leader, alpha to alpha. What do we do? What can we do?

Nothing.

You can do nothing.

You’re stuck here in your nightmare until John’s retirement paperwork gets processed. That could take weeks. You’ll be stuck here in hell for weeks, forced back into old routines in a place you’ve always hated. Now you have even more reason to hate it.

Quiet footsteps approach the couch. Even after months they’ve never lost that ability. Always light on their feet, always agile and ready to strike at a moment’s notice. You’d never see it coming. You’re lucky McKinney had been far less skilled.

The thought of him sends a shiver down your spine, your leg aching where that scar is. You’ve tried not to stare at it, blanking your mind every time your fingers grazed over it in the shower. You wear a mark now like them. They all have those scars revealing close calls. Now you’ve had your own.

John sits down on the coffee table facing you. He leans his elbows on his knees, reaching out a hand to cup your face. His thumb is rough as it strokes your cheek, running over dried tear tracks. You managed to stop crying. That’s saying something.

“How are you?” He asks, his voice soft.

You almost scoff. “You want me to answer that?” You murmur.

“I know.” He breathes. “I should have thought about that before you came in.”

Yeah, you should have, you think. You wouldn’t dare say that out loud.

“We’ll get the door fixed and keep it closed.” He says. “You won’t have to go in there unless you want to.

I won’t want to. You’d be happy to never set foot in that room again.

“You won’t have to stay here alone, either. You’ll come with us if none of us can stay here with you.” He says, pulling his hand back. “We’ll try to make this as painless as possible.”

It’s never going to be painless. Every moment spent here will be misery.

He stares at you for a long moment. You stare back, Kyle’s hand still in your hair, gently rubbing your scalp. There was a time you could have slept like this, but now you can’t relax. Your body is stressed, adrenaline high as fight and flight battle in your brain. You can’t do either, instead stuck in the limbo of freezing. You should feel safe, comforted by his words, his promises...but this is the place of broken promises.

“Now,” He says, putting his hands back on his knees. “We need to go check in, then we’ll get some dinner.” He gives you a weak smile. “Take a minute and breathe. Then we’ll go.”

He pushes himself up to stand, leaving the rec room. Johnny follows, but not before casting a glance your way.

Kyle pulls his hand away, resting it on your arm. “Come on,” He squeezes your arm gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You’re numb as you push yourself off the couch, your legs shaking just a bit from the drop in adrenaline and the nerves still coursing through you. You’re not sure which is worse, being trapped in the barracks or having to leave and face down the rest of the base.

Kyle takes your hand, leading you into the bathroom across the hall. He wets some towels with cold water before gently pressing them against your face. “I know,” He says, moving from one cheek to the other. “I’ll be glad once my paperwork’s in and approved. Won’t miss this place.”

His words don’t do much to quell the twisting in your stomach. “What about Johnny and Simon?” you ask quietly.

“They’ll stay here.” He says, pressing the paper towel against your forehead. “Simon will take over as leader of the team. He might work with Laswell to find new members, or it’ll stay just the two of them.”

“They’ll still get to see us, right?” You ask.

“Of course.” Kyle smiles, gently cradling the back of your head to press the towel over your eyes. “They’ll get to go on leave just like everyone else.”

He dabs at your face, the cool water helping calm your shaking body just a little. You can’t wait for the next few weeks to be over with, when you can leave this place in the dust and never have to return. You love Simon and Johnny but you wouldn’t come back here if your life depended on it. Even if it means going months without seeing them.

Kyle moves the towel to the back of your neck, his thumbs stroking your jaw as he holds it there. There’s a soft smile on his face as he stares down at you. “You’ll be alright. We’ll make sure of that.”

You wish you could believe him.

As much as you the to admit it, the cold water has helped a bit, grounding you out of your state of panic and nervousness slightly. You lean forward, wrapping your arms around Kyle’s waist. He tosses the paper towel towards the trash can where it lands with a wet plop. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close to his chest.

A moment of silence passes before you speak. “You missed that, didn’t you?”

He’s silent for a second. “...No…”

A small smile pulls at your lips as you hold him.

You wish you could say being outside the barracks was better than being in them, but that would be a lie. The nerves are back as the five of you walk towards the main building on base, the one in the center of everything. The last time you were there, you met General Shepherd for the first time, when the cameras were put up in your room. That idiotic moment when you left the barracks with a stranger.

Even now walking with your pack, you feel that nervous edge that had been there the first time. You’re in the middle of them, John leading the way, Kyle and Johnny on either side of you, and Simon picking up the rear. You remember all those times walking back and forth exactly like this. They only did it here, not when you went to town while you were at the cottage. Maybe because they knew you were more in danger here than out in the real world. These are well trained soldiers too, not easily intimidated like the average civilian.

It’s cool inside the building. Apparently no one on base has heard of heating. Not that it was really cold enough outside for it, but you’re beginning to crash from your heightened emotions and your body feels cold and shaky.

John guides you to a chair near the front, easing you down into it. His hand stays on your shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Stay here. We’ll be right back.” His fingers slide to your chin, lifting your face so you’re staring up at him. “You know what to do if someone approaches you.”

You nod. Whether or not you could actually do it is debatable. John stares down at you for a long moment before releasing you, turning his back to guide the rest of the pack away. You watch them go until they disappear behind a door, your nerves starting to pick up. There’s hardly anyone in the building aside from the stray soldier walking by. They give you hardly more than the occasional glance in passing. You doubt they’ve forgotten who you are in the months you’ve been away. Those orders still stand. They’re to leave you alone no matter what.

Time seems to crawl by, your legs starting to shake nervously as you wait for their return. John said it wouldn’t take long, but the minutes are starting to feel like hours. Time seems to pass differently here, slower than it did at the cottage. There’s more to be aware of here. You can’t relax in safety and security like you did there. Even when the threat of Shepherd was still looming over your heads there was still a sense of security at the cottage. You were far from anyone and everyone, free to do what you wanted.

Now you’re going to have to stick to a tight schedule, surrounded by the constant need for hypervigilance lest you face the threat of a cocksure alpha brave enough to approach you, even with your pack around.

That would always be a threat to you as an omega, but here it seems extra prevalent. Here there are rules, here there are expectations. They know better, but that hasn’t stopped them.

You let out a breath of air as your pack walks back through the door, heading towards you.

“Aright?” John asks, his hand on your back as you stand.

You nod. Are you really? Debatable, but nothing happened while they were gone so you have to say yes.

“Let’s get some dinner then we can work on unpacking.” He says, glancing at the rest of your pack before taking your hand.

You walk with him, the others following as you make your way towards the mess. It’s late enough it’s going to be full. You didn’t miss the mess. You didn’t miss having to eat in front of others at set times. The guys liked to keep a schedule, but it was your schedule at your own times. Now it’s entirely dictated by someone else.

You can’t wait to finally be free again.

John keeps his hand on your back as you enter the mess, eyes turning to you. They’re all staring, all glancing your way as you make your way to the line. They’re all wondering why you were gone for months, why you came back. They want to know but they never will. They’ll wonder again in a few months when you and John and then eventually Kyle drive away and never return, when it’s just Simon and Johnny showing up. You wonder if any of them will be the ones chosen to join the task force, which of them Simon would choose, if any.

You do wonder if he’ll choose anyone. It would be different, since they wouldn’t be part of your pack. You know Simon would never allow anyone else to join. It’s the five of you and that’s it. You have your dynamics, your balance settled. Anyone else runs the risk of disrupting it, turning it on its head.

Most of all, you know they wouldn’t be allowed near you.

John fills your tray for you, not forgetting his duties even back in this setting. At the cottage he made your plate, here he fills your tray with what he knows you might eat of the offerings tonight. It all looks so bland, so...beige. Formless slop with a side of mushy peas.

The five of you find a table near the back of the room, thankfully away from most of the prying eyes. You sit between Kyle and John, Simon and Johnny facing you. It’s like riding a bicycle, back to the automatic patterns even months spent away couldn’t break.

You stare down at the unappetizing meal on your tray, your mind already back to home cooked food, even if they were only okay at cooking. It was still infinitely better than this sad excuse for a dinner that you just know it’s going to be bland as hell.

They have no problems diving in. They’ve been eating this food for years, no doubt only thinking of nourishment and not what they’ve left behind.

You’re fighting tears as you attempt to cut what you think is chicken. It’s slightly tough, overcooked most likely. It doesn’t taste any better than how it looks, seasoned with hopes and dreams of what might have been good chicken. You wish you could go in there and cook your own dinner for your pack, give them the food they deserve to eat.

You pick at your food, eating and chewing slowly as you try not to think about it. You lived on this food for months, you even enjoyed eating it sometimes. You can do that again, slip back into that headspace where you had to do things, where you had no choice. You have no choice now?

“Everything okay?” John asks, glancing down at your still full tray.

“Yeah, just...not hungry.” You say. You’re starving, but you’re too busy grieving food with flavor and defined edges.

You should eat. There’s no snacks to go back to. They’re all probably expired and stale after months of sitting. Besides. Most of them are probably in your room anyway. The last place you want to go is in there, even out of desperation for some kind of good food.

“At least eat your peas.” John says, nodding to the mush of green in one of the sections of the tray. They don’t look in the least bit appetizing.

Tears gather in your eyes again as you acquiesce despite your reservations, spooning a bit into your mouth. They’re just as mushy and bland as they look, and you don’t waste much time chewing.

They’re all watching you as you eat, their own trays mostly clear. You feel a bit like a child forced to eat your vegetables before you leave the table. Shame burns hot in you and you quickly finish off your peas before downing the rest of your water.

“Good girl.” John says, patting your back before taking your tray. Your stomach is churning, and you feel a bit like you’re about to be sick, but you hold it down. This is the last place you want to cause a scene...another scene. You’ve already done that once.

You won’t be doing it again.

You cough a little as more dust flies up into the air. There’s a thick layer of it over everything and it’s currently being kicked up into the air by John’s dusting. You’re seated on his bed on a blanket, the sheets stripped to be washed. All of the washers are going right now, one for each of them filled with blankets, sheets, and clothes. Tomorrow they have to go back to wearing their uniforms again. You’ll miss the look of Simon’s ass in jeans.

There’s a bear in your arms, squeezed tight against your chest as you watch him clean his bookshelf. You’re trying to silence the quiet gurgling of your stomach. Whether it’s hunger or your body’s protest to the mushy peas you’re not quite sure.

“You doing alright?” John asks, deeply focused on cleaning the shelf he’s working on. The books are stacked next to him, each one getting a thorough wipe down.

“Yeah.” You say, rubbing some of the bear’s fur between your fingers.

“You want something to read?” He asks, glancing up at you.

You shake your head. “No, that’s alright.”

He sits back on his heel, pausing what he’s doing to stare at you. “You’re turning down a book?”

You shrug, dropping your gaze to the bear in your arms. “Just don’t feel much like reading right now.”

John hums before pushing himself up to stand. He sinks down on the bed next to you with a sigh, his arm wrapping around you to pull you against his chest. “I’m sorry you have to do this. I wish I could make it easier.”

“I hate it here.” You murmur, still holding your bear close to your chest.

“I know. I know you always have. You were here because you had to be and now that we’ve all gotten a taste of what life could be like...it’s hard to come back.” His hand rubs your arm. “Even if I hadn’t already decided to retire, I think I would have been pushed in that direction after coming back. If nothing else I’d suck it up and take a desk job and move us off base.”

His words give you pause for a moment. “Why didn’t you do that? Why fully retire?”

“It wouldn’t be the same. I’ve always been a man of action, out in the field, fighting to save the world. Better to be out completely than sitting behind a desk knowing I could have been out there myself.” He squeezes you gently. “At least if I retire I can learn to relax.”

It falls silent between the two of you for a moment, John’s scent soft and relaxed. It’s helping ease the turmoil in your mind just a bit. He’s trying hard, you know that. You know he means it when he says he’s sorry for bringing you back here. He really does feel guilty for what happened to day, for what this place means to you.

He sits up straighter, his arm dropping from around you. “I have an idea.”

He pushes himself up to stand, holding out a hand for you. You take it, frowning a bit as he pulls you up to stand next to him. He kneels down, putting the books back on the shelf before standing again. He starts to dig through the boxes, pulling out blankets, stuffed animals, and pillows before stacking them on the desk and underneath on the floor.

You take a couple steps back towards the bathroom door as he grabs the mattress, sliding it down to the floor. He shoves it up against the desk before standing. “Be right back.” He disappears out the door.

You stand there, watching the doorway as he makes his way down the hallway, calling for all of them to bring their mattresses and blankets. It’s not hard to figure out what he’s doing. You’re just not sure why.

John reappears in the doorway, a small smile on his face. Simon’s not far behind him, dragging his mattress into the room. He shoves it in next to John’s, dropping a pile of blankets on it. You didn’t even know he had so many blankets. He’s always seemed like a one rough, ratty blanket kind of man.

Kyle and Johnny appear at the same time, nearly getting stuck in the door at their excitement to add to the growing nest. It’s a nest. John’s making a nest for you.

John starts to arrange your blankets across the four mattresses squeezed onto the floor. They’ve all brought their own blankets, likely ones picked up while at the cottage or ones they washed and dried. You stand there as they arrange the pillows and blankets, trying to make a perfect nest for you. You haven’t nested in months and here they are trying to build you one instead.

Tears start to slide down your cheeks, a quiet sob leaving your lips. All four of them look up at the sound, pausing in what they’re doing.

“What is it?” Kyle asks.

“Is it wrong?” Simon asks at the same time.

You shake your head, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. “It’s so sweet.” You cry, holding your bear tight against your chest.

“Aw bon, c’mere.” Johnny holds his arms out and you move forward into his hold.

The other three surround you, folding yourselves into a group hug as you cry. The action nearly makes you cry harder as you’re enveloped in their warmth and comfort. Their scents surround you, seeping into your brain and deep to where your omega has been pacing back and forth, awakened thanks to your fear and the perceived threat looming in the back of your mind.

It’s nice, being held by them, surrounded safely in their arms. You don’t think you’ve ever been held like this by them, all of them at once, securely in the middle of their protective circle. It makes you feel warm, fighting off the inevitable chill of the barracks that seeps into your very soul.

You don’t want them to let go, but you let them. You can’t stay that way forever, no matter how badly you want to. You don’t doubt they’d stand there until their legs gave out if you asked them to.

“Better?” Johnny asks, gently wiping your tears.

“Yeah.” You breathe, sniffling still. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Kyle kisses the top of your head. “You know we’d do anything for you.”

“I know.” You give him a small smile. “Even murder.”

“Just tell us who.” Simon says, looming behind you.

“Thankfully no one right now.” You say, plopping yourself down into the nest. “But I’ll let you know.”

“Good.” Simon says, staring down at you for a moment before heading towards the door.

“Where are you going?” You ask.

“Gotta get ready for bed.” He shrugs before leaving the room.

“Right.” You say, looking down at your clothes. You should probably get ready too.

You crawl over to the boxes of clothes, popping one open before digging through it. It’s a box of John’s stuff but that’s alright. That’s what you were looking for anyway. You pull out a t-shirt for you, before moving on to another box, looking for John’s pajamas.

“What are you doing?” John asks, watching you dig through his neatly folded clothes.

“Looking for your Pj’s.” You say.

“Probably won’t need them tonight.” He says. “It’s going to get warm in here.”

You sit back on your heels. He’s right. The last time you’d all slept in the same room it had gotten unbearably hot. You shrug before pulling your shirt over your head, ditching your bra and pants before pulling John’s shirt over your head. You turn to stare up at him, his eyes hooded as he stares down at you.

“What?” You ask, wiping your face in case you’ve been wearing remnants of mushy peas that no one told you about.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, pulling his shirt off. “Just thinking about how beautiful you are.”

Your face warms at his words, your stomach fluttering. “Don’t,” You say unconvincingly. “You’re gonna distract me.”

“Good.” He smirks, undoing the button on his jeans. You watch his fingers as he pulls the zipper down before looping those fingers into the waistband and tugging.

Your eyes follow them down before trailing back up his body to his face. He’s watching you as he steps out of his pants, kicking them over towards the bathroom door. You lick your lips, staring at his face for a moment before crawling past him, grabbing your big bear from the spot on the floor at the end of his bed. You drag it over to the middle of the nest, situating it next to where you’re going to lay. Right in the middle between them all.

You situate the bear before getting up, heading to John’s bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face.

“Bloody hell.” You hear Simon say, no doubt about the bear. It has a smile tugging at your lips.

You try to hide that smile as you step out of the bathroom, climbing back into the nest. Simon has settled himself closest to the door, wearing nothing but a pair of pajama pants. Your mood has been steadily improving since this new development, your eyes trailing across Simon’s back as he sets his phone on John’s shelf.

Johnny and Kyle enter, both of them forgoing shirts as well. Johnny is in nothing but his boxers, Kyle a pair of shorts. They’re trying to kill you, you know it.

Distraction: successful.

You settle yourself in the middle next to your bear, slipping under one of the blankets. Kyle tosses a couple more onto the pile, still warm from the dryer. Johnny plops down on your right, between you and Simon. He wraps his arms around you, tugging you against his chest. You just barely manage to get your arms around your bear, pulling it with you.

“No fair.” Kyle pouts, settling himself on your other side.

“Shoulda been faster.” Johnny says, spooning himself up against you.

You wrap your arms around the bear, holding it close against you. Johnny’s arms stretch across your middle to wrap around the bear as well, nearly suffocating you between them.

Kyle huffs, laying on his back. “I’m starting to realize why you hate the bear so much.”

“Insulting, isn’t it?” Simon mumbles from behind Johnny.

“Give into the bear.” You say, reaching over it to blindly find Kyle’s arm. You tug him over, or at least try to. He scoots closer, letting you pull him close against the bear.

He drapes his arm across the bear and across you to rest it against Johnny’s side. The room goes dark as John turns out the lights, making sure the door is closed and locked before moving to lay on the other side of Kyle.

“Can you breathe in there?” He asks before settling down.

“Yes.” You answer, your voice muffled from the fluff of the bear.

“Get some rest.” He says to everyone, his phone thunking as he sets it on the desk. “Early morning tomorrow.”

Kyle and Johnny grumble, no doubt dreading what tomorrow is going to bring after being spoiled for months. There will be no sleeping in, no lazing around, no more slow mornings. Now it’s only rise and grind, something you’ll have to get used to as well. You don’t want to be left alone here, no matter how badly you want to sleep in. If getting up early means getting out of the barracks sooner, you’ll take it.

You lay there, listening to their breathing even out. You’re jealous of their ability to sleep anywhere at any time. A learned skill in the field, you know. They never know when they’re going to get the chance to rest, so you have to be able to drop off at any time. You’re not so lucky.

It’s quiet in the barracks, too quiet. You can hear every breath, every small creak of the building as it settles. The door is locked and you have four very well trained soldiers surrounding you, but still you can’t shake that paranoid thought. What if someone gets in? What if someone comes back for revenge? What better time to strike than at night when you’re at your most vulnerable? It was dangerous coming back here.

You won’t be getting much sleep tonight.

It’s still dark out when his alarm goes off. He’s wide awake as soon as the sound starts, his hand reaching behind him to grab his phone and quickly silence it. It’s enough to rouse the others, quiet groans of displeasure reaching his ears.

Simon lets out a breath, wrapping his arms around the soft body against his chest for a moment. A soft body. Too soft.

He turns on his phone screen, glancing down.

He’s snuggling the bear.

He lets out a scoff, shoving it down off the end of his mattress.

4:30 his phone screen tells him. He’s been getting up early since the arrival at the cottage, unable to retrain his natural clock. Only, instead of getting up most days he just laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling in the dark, pondering his life choices, thinking about what was going to happen next in his life, worrying about who might come after them on Shepherd’s behalf. It was senseless to worry, but he couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t stop the racing thoughts, the fears that filled him, the images in his head. Shepherd would get rid of them to cover his ass. He’d never be safe so long as the 141 was out there, just as they’d never be safe so long as Shepherd was out there. Two missiles heading right for each other where they’d inevitably meet in the middle.

Now it’s over. Now they have nothing to worry about. Shepherd is gone, the threat has been removed from over their heads. John trusted they were safe enough to return here to base. Simon wishes he could be that positive.

He pushes himself up to sit, rubbing his eyes. The others have settled again. They won’t get up for another thirty minutes, maybe an hour. He’s always the first up, always the one starting the earliest. It feels good, getting back into this routine, this predictability. He likes it. He needs it.

He casts a glance across the four sleeping bodies next to him. John had gotten up to plug in your nightlight, giving the room a soft glow. Johnny is starfished across an entire mattress, Kyle curled up next to him. Simon’s startled to see you sitting up rubbing your eyes. John is on his side next to you, arm outstretched where you had been laying.

Simon crawls over, your head lifting to look at him. “Go back to sleep.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You let out a quiet sound, half murmur, half whine as he eases you back onto your back next to John. He tosses a blanket over you before standing, stepping back over Johnny’s legs towards the door. He steps on the bear on his way, not even looking down as he unlocks the door before turning the nob.

It’s bright out in the hallway, his eyes burning as he squints. He can understand your hatred of overhead lights in moments like these. He’s more than capable of moving in the dark, but the eternal fluorescents in the hallway render that skill useless.

He quickly changes into his gym clothes, slipping on his runners before hesitating, his hand hovering over the drawer to his nightstand. It’s been weeks since he’s put on a mask. He got so used to not wearing one it almost feels strange to don the characteristic skull-print balaclava once more. He could go without one. He could choose to bear his face to the many soldiers on base for the first time, but anxiety churns in his stomach. They’ll stare, they’ll point, they’ll talk.

No, he doesn’t want that.

He opens the drawer, pulling out one of the masks from the stack of them that have been sitting for months. It’s free of dust from having been shut in the drawer but he dusts it off anyway, staring down at it for a moment. He could choose not to, but that could complicate things. He pulls it over his head, situating it in place before heading out the door. There’s still an early spring chill to the air as he makes his way across the road towards the gym, his breath visible. It’s quiet on base, not many up this early since they don’t have to be. Usually there’s only movement this early when there’s a drill being run.

Soon he’ll be the one running those drills. Well, he’ll be running Johnny through those drills. Soon it’ll be just him and Johnny against the world.

He can hardly believe it. He never thought John would retire like that, though things have changed since your arrival, he supposes. You’ve changed all of them and priorities have shifted. John did what he needed to do. He eliminated the threat against his pack and now what’s left for him? He’s seen how you reacted to being back here, they all have. It’s torture for you and Simon hates it.

He enters the gym. It’s quiet, no one up yet. Just the way he likes it. He steps into the weight room, setting his phone on a bench before he begins stretching. He tried to keep up on his fitness at the cottage. Pushups, situps, jogging when he could. He knew coming back would be hard regardless after months away being spoiled. It had been nice, despite his inability to accept that kind of life.

Sometimes he wishes he could retire that easily. When he saw your face, how happy you were when John revealed his decision...it struck something inside of him. He always knew he’d be in this life as long as he could. He’d either die in the field or be forced to retire. Most days the former seemed the most likely option. The idea of being forced behind a desk was enough to drive him crazy.

That’s why John is leaving, though. He’d never be able to survive behind a desk. Better to be out completely than forced to watch others out saving the world knowing that could have still been you. It’s going to be hard. People like them don’t make that shift to civilian life easily. He’s glad Kyle is going too. John’s going to need support that you can’t give him. You don’t know what it’s like. You won’t understand when the nightmares hit, when the itching begins beneath your skin, when your hands start seeking out the comfort of a gun between them again.

What is he going to replace it with? What is he going to do to keep his mind and his hands busy? Fishing? Farming? Maybe he’ll get a dog. A big one he can take on runs. Long runs to keep his mind clear, give him some sort of familiarity of the life he’s spend more years in than out of.

Maybe he’ll fully settle down and you’ll have pups.

The mental image of you greeting him at the door with a fat baby on your hip has him twitching in his shorts.

Fucking hell, Simon, he grunts as he racks his weights.

That would be down the road though. The first battle is getting settled, figuring out how to live in the civilian world. That’s going to take time. He almost wishes John would get a place in Hereford where Simon and Johnny could stay, but he understands. He knows John wants to get as far from this life as he can, get you as far from this life as possible. He’ll get you your little house by the sea, let you live out your domestic fantasies.

Simon’s happy for you two. He’s happy for Kyle.

That doesn’t stop the bitter taste of jealousy from rising in the back of his throat.

It’s still dark out when the next set of alarms go off. Two of them ringing loud in the air. Kyle and Johnny move almost in sync as they reach for their phones on the floor above the nest, silencing the alarms. You’ve been awake since Simon’s went off. You’ve been awake most of the night, the hours crawling by as you drifted in and out of a light sleep. You wanted to get up with Simon, go sit with him in the gym or something, but he’d forced you back into the nest, back into a sleepless hold. John stirs beside you again, his arm shifting from beneath your neck. You wonder if he’s going to get up now too. You wonder what he’s going to do with his day. Go on like normal or is he going to do only what he has to for the next few weeks?

You can’t be sure.

Johnny and Kyle both sit up rubbing their eyes. No doubt it’s rough going from sleeping in and being lazy to having to be up early and start the day right away. You’d probably be feeling the same if you could have slept. You go to sit up too but John’s arm wraps around you tighter, keeping you down with him.

“Morning, love.” Kyle rasps, leaning over to kiss your sweaty forehead. “Get more sleep.”

You wish you could.

Johnny rolls over as Kyle stands, rolling until he’s face to face with you. “Enjoy sleepin’ in while ye can.” He says quietly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll see ye later.”

Both of them leave, your eyes squinting against the stream of light from the hallway. Silence falls once they’re gone, John breathing evenly behind you. You want to get up, go get ready with them and head to the gym if only to sit and watch them, but John’s grip around you is firm.

“Did you sleep?” He asks, his voice rough with sleep.

“Not really.” You admit, knowing he’d probably know if you were lying.

He hums, his face pressing against the back of your head. “We’ll stay here until they get back.”

“Not going to work out?” You ask.

“I’ll do it later.” He says. “We’re running drills after breakfast. See just how out of shape we all are.”

“I’m going with you.”

“Yes.” He answers, tightening his hold around you. “Wouldn’t be fair to leave you here alone.”

“You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for me.” You say despite your relief at his decision to bring you along with him. “I’d be fine.”

“I’m not sacrificing anything.” He says firmly. “I’m not leaving you alone. Not after what happened last time.”

“You’re scared.” You say quietly, laying there in his tight hold.

“Of course I am.” He breathes, shifting slightly behind you, almost as if you realization is uncomfortable for him. It probably is. It must take a lot for him to admit that he’s afraid. For a while, you weren’t sure he could feel fear. “I nearly lost you.”

“John?” You breathe, tears gathering in your eyes. “Would it have happened anyway?”

He pauses for a moment, just a brief second but you hear it loud and clear. “Inevitably. They would have used you no matter what. It was a fail-safe. I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.”

“It’s not going to happen again, is it?” You ask, speaking aloud your fears even if they are irrational.

“No.” He says, his lips brushing your ear. “I won’t let it.”

“I’m scared.” You breathe, a tear sliding down your cheek.

“Don’t be.” He says, tightening his hold around you until it borders on painful. “I’m right here.”

You’re not sure how long you lay there, pinned tightly against his chest. You wish you could sleep but you’ve been awake too long. Your pulse races in your ears, muffling any sound that might indicate something is wrong, your paranoia heightened in your exhausted state. You want to believe John, but you know men like him have enemies. Perhaps you’ll never be safe, no matter how much he tries to reassure you. They all have their enemies. Sooner or later one of them has to come for you.

An hour goes by fast, your brain in turmoil as the thoughts race. John doesn’t let up, his hold around you tight. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s nothing he could say. All he does is hold you, breathing slow and even, his chest pressed against your back.

The barracks door opens and you flinch, the squeak of tennis shoes coming down the hallway. You hold your breath, preparing for the worst. You’re in front of John, you’re the one in the line of fire. You brace yourself, squeezing your eyes closed as the door handle turns.

“It’s pishing it doon out there.” Johnny says, sticking his head in the door.

He’s soaked, mohawk flat and dripping water into his eyes. That explains the squeaking shoes. No one trying to sneak in would take that risk.

“English MacTavish.” Simon’s voice floats down the hallway.

Johnny rolls his eyes. “Ye know what I mean.” He turns to look back at you two still in bed. “Dress warm.”

He closes the door, heading off to go shower most likely. John doesn’t move for a moment, still holding you tightly. No doubt he felt your flinch, sensed your fear before you realized it was Johnny. The paranoia is running rampant this morning, your mind stuck in a loop of fear.

“Come on.” John says softly, finally releasing you. He sits himself up behind you, leaning over your body. “Let’s get dressed. Go and get some food.”

You don’t want to get up. The prospect of moving your body feels daunting. Yet, you don’t want to lay here either. You push yourself up to sit too, John leaning over you to press a kiss to your forehead. It’s so soft and gentle, the opposite of the thoughts racing through your head.

He pushes himself up to stand, moving to his closet to pull out a uniform. Back to playing the soldier. He really is playing this time. In a few weeks he’ll be officially retired and the two of you will leave base never to return again. You’ll move on to some semblance of a normal life, playing at domesticity. Not long after Kyle will join you and it will be you and your pack with Simon and Johnny playing the satellite. Maybe some day they’ll take the plunge and join you.

You crawl over to the boxes, digging through to find your own clothes. You wonder if he’ll bother unpacking anything from these boxes. Or if he’ll just leave them so they’re easier to grab once the two of you do leave.

John goes into the bathroom while you decide what to wear. Sweatpants or jeans. T-shirt or long sleeves. Johnny said to dress warm so you decide on a t-shirt and a sweatshirt with jeans. Hard clothes meant for a military base. No more lounging around in the barracks all day. You’ll be out there with them, watching them run drills for the first time in months.

You quickly change, stepping into the bathroom after John is done. You’re quick, not wasting any time. The more you dally, the more time your brain has to focus on the fear swirling in the back of your mind.

John is waiting for you when you exit the bathroom. He’s close to the door, crowding you as you step out into the room. Your eyes trace his form from his feet to his face. He grips your chin, holding you still as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. He tastes minty, like toothpaste, his lips soft against yours.

“What are you doing?” You murmur when he pulls away.

“Trying to distract you.” He breathes.

“Do it again.” You say.

He kisses you again, this one harder as his hand slips from your chin to your throat. You hate to admit that it’s working, the swirling emotions in the back of your brain quieting as you kiss your alpha.

He pulls away too soon, your lips parted and eyes still closed as he releases you. “Better?” He asks.

You nod. You do feel a bit better. Your thoughts aren’t quite so loud now.

“Come on.” His hand slips into yours, squeezing it gently as your eyes finally open.

It’s time.

He leads you out the door, pausing to put his boots on once he’s over the nest. It stays where it is, messy and rumpled. None of them bother making the beds and you wonder if it’s driving them crazy. No doubt that need to make sure their bed is made carried with them to the cottage. You hardly ever bother as you usually wind up back in it at some point in the day. You wonder how crazy you drive them with that habit, or lack there of.

You walk with John at the head of the column as you step out into the rain. It is raining hard, and you’re glad you went with something with a hood. You should have dug out the rain jacket John got you at the cottage. That probably would have been smarter.

You’re cold and wet when you make it to the mess. It’s early enough it’s sparsely populated. You wonder if John did that on purpose, or if it’s just coincidence. You hold onto his hand until you reach the front of the line, letting him fill your tray for you with plastic looking eggs and far too watery porridge. Once again you’re reminded of how much you were spoiled at the cottage and how far you’ve fallen into the world of bland, tasteless food.

Or, as you would call it, British food.

John graciously chooses a table near the back, keeping you out of sight for the most part, away from prying eyes. You sit between him and Kyle again, staring down at your depressing looking tray of food. The only thing that looks good is the fruit, so you focus there first. They go down the easiest, filling your desperate stomach. You haven’t eaten a good meal since you all stopped to get food on your drive back to Hereford. You underestimated how much you’d struggle adapting to mess hall food again.

Granted, the last time you were coming from the CIA and their cafeteria food, and before that the institute. You can’t remember how long it’s been since you had a home cooked meal before the cottage. Maybe that’s why you were struggling so much.

How you wish you could go into the kitchen and make your mother’s enchiladas.

You struggle your way through breakfast, using the fruit to get you through the porridge. You leave most of the eggs, unable to stomach more than a few bites. Of course the rest of your pack clears their trays. This food must be heaven compared to stuff they eat while they’re away on missions.

It’s mostly stopped raining by the time you leave the mess hall, now just a drizzle. You’re clinging to Kyle’s hand, letting him lead you after John as he heads across the base towards one of the hangars. Time for training, you assume.

You recognize this one. You’ve been here before months ago. It was one of the first times you got to see their training. Hell, you yourself had participated in it once. You wonder if John will do that again, or if he’ll take pity on you and let you just watch.

“We’re going back to basics today, lads.” John says as the boys line up. “Testing where you’re at after months away. You’ll be timed on how long it takes you to get through the course as usual. Stay sharp and watch those corners. Who’s going first?”

“I will.” Johnny says, not even hesitating.

“Good luck Sergeant.” John says before turning to you. “Come on.”

He leads you up into the viewing area where the screens are located. You’ve been up here before a couple of times.

“Don’t want you catching a stray bullet.” He says.

You give him a sideways glance. The last time you were here they hadn’t used live rounds.

“Rubber bullets still hurt.” He says, giving you a grin.

You shake your head, watching as Johnny prepares himself to run the course.

Their times aren’t quite as good this time around. Even Kyle is dragging a bit, not quite as sharp as you remember him being. Granted it has been months. They’re all rusty and out of shape. You’re going to miss them being all soft and gentle. Even John will lose some of it before retirement, you think. The yo-yoing of his body is going to be hard on him. Strong and fit to soft and gentle to partially strong and fit again to permanently soft. You doubt he’ll give up everything completely. Morning runs, weight lifting, keeping himself sharp. He’ll never fully relax. He can’t.

“Not bad, muppets.” John says, standing in front of them. You hoist yourself up onto a crate. “But not good either. That’s to be expected after months of going soft. We’re going to focus on re-polishing those skills again. Building stamina and strength, sharpening those weapons skills again.” John stands up straighter. “Let’s hit the range next.”

He turns to you, holding out a hand. “Come on, sweetheart.”

You hop down off the crate, taking his hand. You’ve never been to the shooting range here. John always tried to keep you away from live fire as much as possible, god forbid there be some freak accident.

At least now you know what it feels like to be shot.

You have to accompany them now though, in fear of being left in the barracks all day. This is still far better than being cooped up in a place full of nightmares.

The range is in another hanger, and unfortunately not empty. It’s loud inside, two other soldiers inside firing at targets. You put your hands over your ears as you follow John towards the far side of the range. He grabs a headset, slipping it over your head. It offers just enough protection from the loud banging of the guns being fired. The sound in the enclosed space is enough to drive your adrenaline up. You can only imagine what it’s like with hundreds of guns going off all at once while half of those are shooting back at you.

You’ll never understand how they manage it.

You stand back out of the way behind them as they line up. Even John lines himself up this time, all of them firing down the line at targets. You keep yourself pressed up against the wall, watching them. It’s louder with the four of them shooting, your heart hammering in your throat. You can’t help but wonder what kind of firefight there was when they rescued you, if there was much of one at all. Their skills were sharper then, their abilities honed. Going up against trained soldiers would have been a walk in the park back then.

Had you known they were coming you might have waited, might have let them have their hostage rescue instead of having to chase your wild omega through the woods in her attempt to escape herself. You can still remember bits and pieces of it, the feel of blood on your hands, the adrenaline pulsing through your veins, the wild freedom to not care about anything but survival.

It makes your hands shake.

You squeeze them into fists, nails biting into your skin as they fire round after round, adjusting stances, reloading and then firing again. You can only see Simon’s target ahead, all of his shots hitting the outline of the body on the paper. You don’t think something like shooting would be a skill lost easily. Like riding a bike, you suppose.

You wonder how good it must feel to them to have a weapon in their hands again. That thought concerns you, but then again, there’s a lot about them that should concern you. You’ve gone numb to most of it, those thoughts you had early on not even in the back of your mind anymore. They are who they are, they’ve done what they’ve done and there’s no changing that. It simply comes with the territory.

“Hey,”

Your eyes dart up as a knuckle pushes your chin up. Simon is standing before you. He smells metallic like gunpowder. It meshes well with his natural scent creating an intoxicating blend.

“C’mere.” He tilts his head towards his now vacated spot. You follow him, his hands moving you into position. He slides the warm gun into your hands, clicking the safety off. “Take a shot.”

You stare down the line at the fresh target, gulping a bit. The gun feels heavy in your hands. The others have stopped, and you can tell they’ve gathered around, watching, waiting for what’s going to happen. You half expect John to stop this before it starts, but he lingers back, letting this play out.

Simon’s arms wrap around you, moving your hands into position around the gun. He lifts them up to proper height, holding you there for a moment before releasing you and taking a step back. Your finger twitches as it hovers over the trigger as you stare at the target. You take a deep breath in, holding it for a second before squeezing the trigger.

You fire three shots.

All three hit the paper of the target, missing the body but still hitting the paper. You lower the gun, clicking the safety back on before turning to face them. They’re all staring at you with faces of shock and mild amusement.

You glance at all of them before shrugging. “I used to live in Texas.”

Johnny and Kyle laugh, Simon shaking his head. “You need to work on your form.” He puts his hands on your shoulders, spinning you back around to face the target.

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[restlesscrybaby]

Psst,,, can yous make some romantic and/or platonic hcs for lux,,, I like him but I don’t want to ringle his dingle

Or course, sweet anon! Thanks for asking, I've been itching to write him some!

!! MR. RING-A-DING / LUX IMPERATOR. !!

!! ROMANTIC anddd PLATONIC HEADCANONS !!

! ⚠️ NO CWS!!! ⚠️ !

!! PLATONIC. !!

Befriending a cartoon is.. Interesting.

Yes. He invades your phone or laptop when he thinks it is time to hangout.

He likes to sit on your shoulder and listen to you talk!

He's not used to having many friends, but his favorite hang-out spots are movie theaters.

Sometimes, you can't find him, then all hell breaks loose.

And you'll see him on the screen.

And die inside.

If we base this around him being stuck in the theater..

He'll sit with you and watch the movies Mr. Pye plays.

He doesn't NEEED to eat. But if you're eating while watching, he will steal some.

For funsies!

Don't ever ask what games he knows.

Way too many.

I don't have many platonic ones for him, sorry chat :0[!

!! ROMANTIC. !!

He gives you oversized bouquets with a big tag saying 'Sweetie-pie'.

For female readers, he calls you many names. One of them being 'Lovely lady.' Add on 'of the light' too.

For male readers, he calls you many names too! Including his 'Handsome fella'.

For nonbinary readers! Think his 'Loyal lover'.

He asks to kiss you a lot. He pulls at his collar and all.

He loves taking photos of you and 'immortalizing' you in film. He just means taking videos. Think Mr. Pye and his wife.

For date nights, when you wear a beautiful outfit, his antenna curl up into a heart, his eyes turn into hearts, he leans onto his hands if he's sitting, or he dreamily sighs if he's standing. It's.. Quite charming.

If you tell him someone tried flirting with you, he gets very jealous. He's very obsessive. And possessive.

Outside of the theater, he likes to hide in your phone or laptop screen to go with you places. It's a sort of date to him.

If something upsets you, let's say at a Cafe, he'll flicker the lights, fuck with the workers, make sure they get it right. Just for his lover.

Hes.. Interesting when someone tries flirting.

Luckily if it's night, he will form from your phone beneath the street lamp, wiggling his finger at the creep, telling him 'Oh! They've been courted, PAL!'

He makes the person think they're crazy before they run off.

After, he takes your hand and kisses it, a cartoony 'POP!' Sounding after and all.

He LOVES kissing you, if it isn't obvious.

He's the kind to take his cartoony coat off and place it over a puddle.

Movie theater dates!

There's something romantic about sharing a bag of popcorn!

And a drink!

And reaching in and touching hands at the same time!

He likes going to bed with you, but he snores SO LOUDDD.

You'll have to get used to it.

He's quite the romance lover.

Think Pepe Le Pew.

Holding your hand, kissing your arm, dipping you with weird strength, thinking of you with hearts around his head, all of that.

When he proposes to you, BOTH KNEES!

NO, no, not one. Both!

For your wedding, atleast he makes his own soundtrack.

BLEGHH!! HEADCANONS WHEN I FIRST WAKE UP BE UPON YE!!

Enjoy, dear reader! I definitely have more ideas that I'm just NOT remembering!

[starsinthesky5]

what other trips do they go on?

a/n: this has been swirling in my head since last night 🙂‍↕️

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

it’s no secret that joe used to be a bit of a hermit. content to stay tucked away at home, keeping to himself, his circle tight, his world small. he liked the quiet. the privacy. the comfort of routine and walls that kept curious eyes out. it wasn’t that he didn’t love life, he just preferred to live it quietly. out of the spotlight, off the grid. but then she came into his life like sunlight through the blinds, warm and undeniable, and something in him shifted.

she had this way of making the world feel a little less loud, a little less scary. with her hand in his, even the busiest cities felt like background noise. she got him out of the house, out of his own head, out into the world. and now they travel—not for show, not for headlines, but because it brings them closer. road trips through the middle of nowhere. late-night swims in oceans they’d never seen before. mornings in places where no one knows their names. she made him want to see the world, not just read about it. and somehow, with her beside him, it feels safe to do so.

here are a few examples of some of their ventures together:

lake house retreats: joe’s a midwestern boy through and through, so when the offseason hits and the world finally quiets down, they disappear to a secluded lake house tucked into the trees—just the two of them and the sound of water lapping against the dock. they pack light: oversized hoodies, sweatpants, flannels they share, and those matching sweatshirts she had made that say captain and first mate as a joke that made him roll his eyes and grin. phones off. fishing poles propped up at the edge of the dock. she curls up in an old foldable chair, reading while he fiddles with the grill, sneaking glances at her over his shoulder like he can’t believe she’s really his. later, they roast marshmallows and drink red wine in front of the firepit, bundled together under one blanket, her legs tangled with his, her fingers resting on his thigh while he plays with her rings absentmindedly. they sleep with the windows open and wake up to birds and soft light on the hardwood floor. it’s quiet. peaceful. just them.

euro summer: once the season ended, they vanished for a few weeks, ducking away from headlines and expectations and into a summer of gelato, linen, and golden hour kisses. they wandered cobbled streets in italy, got lost in coastal greek villages, and kissed under every string of lights they walked past in southern france. she wore breezy sundresses and carried a film camera; he wore linen button-downs and a backpack he always insisted on carrying for the both of them. they sipped aperol spritzes in the shade, people-watched in piazzas, and bought stupid little souvenirs they still laugh about now. they took trains, stayed in boutique hotels, and shared headphones on park benches like teenagers. they’d already hit paris and cannes for work things earlier that month, but this trip was just for them—messy hair, sunburned noses, and love notes scribbled in the back of receipts she tucked into her journal.

napa valley/wine country: this one started with her. he wasn’t really a wine guy—until she was curled up beside him one night, sipping a glass and explaining the difference between earthy and fruity notes, cheeks warm, eyes sparkling. now? he books the reservations himself. they’ll escape to napa or sonoma for long weekends where she wears flowy skirts and he wears his best button-ups because she told him wine country deserves a little effort. they giggle through tastings, take blurry selfies in vineyards, and walk back to their room arm in arm, tipsy and giddy. she ends up drunk off two glasses, red-stained lips and nose scrunchy giggles, and he buys bottles based on labels with butterflies or fonts she likes. he’s got no clue what he’s doing. just that she’s happy, and that’s enough.

homey road trips: sometimes, they just need to drive. no cameras, no flights, no screens. just her singing off-key on purpose to make him laugh, joe’s hand on her thigh, and miles of open road. they’ve road-tripped to her hometown, to florida, even down to mississippi to see his extended family. she DJs with aggressive control of the aux, feeding him gas station snacks and narrating billboards in ridiculous accents. he smiles so much his cheeks ache. they stop at diners, antique shops, and scenic overlooks just because they feel like it. they take polaroids at every gas station and kiss behind trees like teenagers. it’s on these long drives—when she’s barefoot on the dashboard and the sun’s hitting her just right—that joe swears he’s seconds away from pulling over and proposing...even without an actual ring. these are the days that feel like forever.

beach getaways: they’ve got a weakness for the ocean. hawaii, the bahamas, the maldives—it doesn’t matter where, as long as the water’s warm and the sun’s high. she lives in his old t-shirts over bikinis, and he never lets her walk anywhere without his arm around her waist. they swim together in the mornings, her legs wrapped around his waist, kisses traded in the waves like secrets. afternoons are naps in the shade, skin sticky with sunscreen and sea salt. he braids her hair after she swims, surprisingly gentle with his fingers, while she lays in his lap with her eyes closed. at night, they walk the shoreline barefoot, watching the stars and whispering things they’re too shy to say in daylight. they come back with tan lines and new freckles, but more than anything, with memories that feel like dreams. salty, golden, and impossibly sweet.

destin, florida (the bye week getaway flashback from chapter two): last october during joe’s bye week, they escaped to destin. just the two of them, off the grid. it was quiet, warm, and slow in the best way. they stayed in a beachfront rental where she walked around barefoot in his old college tees, and he grilled them dinner while she danced around the kitchen. mornings were spent with her legs thrown over his lap on the balcony, sipping coffee. afternoons meant long swims, reading together under an umbrella, and him tracing shapes into her sunscreened back. nights brought card games, shared playlists, and kisses salty from the sea. it was the kind of trip that made them talk about the future like it was already here.

ibiza: their ibiza trip was a dream. equal parts chaos and closeness. they went with his ohio state friendgroup, but always found themselves sneaking off just the two of them, ducking into cafes or walking hand in hand down white stone alleys. she wore sparkly beach coverups and sunglasses bigger than her face, and he wore open button-downs and his bucket hat, watching her like the sun rose just for her. nights meant dancing till sunrise, his hands on her hips in crowded clubs, her laugh echoing in his ear. they made out like teenagers in the hotel hallway. it was wild, electric, and so full of them.

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ In my sins, I look for you ❞

yandere!ftm!vampire X ftm!reader | reader has had top surgery & bottom growth | sub. bttm. reader  | wc: 6.2k

warnings: horror elements, dub. consent, blood kink, period sex, oral sex (r! receiving), frottaging, overstimulation (r! receiving), dominant & submissive elements, obsession

pt. 1 ;

authors note: is anyone ever disappointed at the lack of period sex (especially for ftms) fics that include a vampire? I am. BTW, Putra is a vampire based on Malaysian folklore – I wanted my own rep too, lmaooo. ;p Listening to ▸ Sang Penikam by Noh Salleh / M. by Anil Emre Daldal  Patreon | Discord

The horrors over his shoulder were strange. As you gazed upon the strings of flesh draped across the branches your mind floats away, as if disconnecting from your body as it tried to comprehend the gore around you. The scent of blood had soaked into the leaves, trailing down the pathways of the tree barks and dripping from the crumpled beer cans. Entrails and broken bones popped against the dim light, the sheen and heat that emitted from them causing your stomach to twist. Putra sings a song, his long hair shielding your line of sight as he tilted his head down at you. 

“Adinda,” his tone was soft as his now human face grinned down at you. The smears of blood across his lips reeked of a metallic tang and it didn’t even seem to bother him. The thick crimson that streaked down his jaw and onto your clothes made you whimper, so he shushed you gently. 

“Those brutes. Forgive me for the mess they forced me to make. Once we’re safe, home, I’ll change.”

You were shaking in his unnaturally strong grip. But Putra simply holds you closer, rubbing his thumb over your shoulder to warm you up as he walked casually through the woods. Retracing your footsteps in the night, going down the same path you had. 

How long has he been watching you? You wonder with dread. He was holding you in his arms as if you were nothing more than a stack of papers, and as your brain reminds you of how easily he tore through people’s bodies, you were certain you might as well be. Here you were, in the arms of a murderer with supernatural strength. Someone you weren’t even certain was a human. 

“Where are you taking me?” you whisper softly. The woods are thinning out now, the ground transitioning into the frat house’s manicured grass and eventually the asphalt sidewalks of your campus. The streetlights flickered above you as he passed by them, his soft humming causing a haziness to cloud your mind as you try to gather as much information as you could. You clearly weren’t going to win this with brute strength — just the sight of his bloody teeth as he smiled down at you caused ripples of gooseflesh across the back of your neck.

”Home. Oh, well, a house. We’ll need to keep you safe. Your scent is far too sweet, sayangku.”

He lifts his gaze ahead and his eyes darken. You feel the brush of his hair against your cheek as it lifts up, defying the laws of gravity as his cheeks lift up into that unnatural, wicked, smile.

”They can smell you.”

You know you shouldn’t. But there was a chance that maybe what he was seeing was other people, so you turn to follow his gaze and your breath gets caught in your throat. The sidewalks that had been empty before, safe from a few students going to the party or some other, were now littered with these figures. They were hiding behind the poles, bloodshot eyes trained on you. They looked odd, some barely humanoid as they towered over the trees or tried to follow Putra’s steady pace with their tiny bodies. A few of them tried hard too mimic people, with four limbs and a head as they stood on two legs but then it was their faces or their posture or their stature.

Too skinny and tall, limbs dragging onto the floor. Head shaped oddly, too many eyes, too little eyes. 

One stood in the way of Putra. It was wrapped in a dirty white cloth, feet and arms bound together as the only thing that showed was its rotting face. It fixed its cloudy eyes on you, bending its knees then jumping to get close. Although the act seemed ridiculous, the stench and the hunger it had emitting from it made you lean into his chest. You clutched at his blood soaked shirt and his chest rumbled, a shriek building in his throat as he slowed his steps. 

“What the fuck are they?” your voice might as well have echoed. The world had gone quiet and you found that your breath was becoming visible in the air. Putra and that thing continued to stare the other down as they both got closer, his grip on you tightened as it began to growl. 

“Hantu,” he snarled out. 

“Bau kau manis sangat, mata batin kau terbuka. Bangsat semua. Dia milik aku!”

The wrapped ghost snarls in return, gnashing his teeth together which makes Putra spin on his heel, keeping his eyes trained on it as he walks backwards. It glowered, bending its knees again which made Putra laugh. For a moment, you think he might actually fight the thing with you in his arms but he glances down at you and whatever anger he had within him drains.

You were terrified. Trembling like a leaf in the wind, the blood drained from your face as you clutched at his shirt and squeezed your eyes shut. 

These bastards could wait their turn to be ripped apart. Putra had to bring you to somewhere safe, where they wouldn’t bother you. 

Somewhere the both of you can finally just be together. 

You recognized the building. The warm red bricks and iron wrought gates — it was Will’s apartment. His parents had rented it out before he enrolled in university, and now it was his while he studied. It was a more quiet area of town, the other tenants keeping to themselves. You’d been here a few times to study, revelling in the loft he had and making use of his big oven during a bleak Christmas break where he spent his time with you after you had a nasty spat with your folks. It was filled with happy memories, warmth imbued in the wooden floors and the Polaroids pinned to the living room wall. 

It’s jarring to see it now. Dark, cold, eerily quiet safe from the sounds of your own breathing. Every bit of life had been sapped away from his apartment, the air stale and dusty. 

“Will?” you called out, flinching when Putra shot you a tepid glare. That made you shrink into yourself, he’d only been mad at you one time and he caused a massacre right in front of your eyes. You weren’t going to see what he’d do if it were just the two of you. 

He sets his jaw, gently setting you down on Will’s grey L-shaped couch before he finally tries to wipe away the blood from his mouth. At this point, it’d dried and it barely wiped off and had merely smudged across the back of his hand and sleeve. You bring your knees to your chin, wrapping your arms around your legs as you watch him fuss over the mess on himself. 

“…Who are you?” 

Putra narrows his eyes, glaring at his clothes as he stands. He walks to the kitchen, turning the sink faucet as he washed his hands clean. 

“You know who I am. You called —“

”I didn’t,” you cut him off, brows pinched together as you watch the tenseness in his shoulder. ”I didn’t call you.”

”But you did,” he pressed the final word, as if needing you to realise that he didn’t just pop out of thin air like you thought he did. He braced his hands on the sinks edge, bringing the water to their lips and chins. “Just like I’ve been calling for you.”

”My dreams? That was you?” He perked up, eyes lighting up as he glanced at you from over his shoulder. “Yes, that was me.”

You felt like punching him in his creepy face. All those sleepless nights, waking up in cold sweat and suffering through a sleep deprived headache throughout the entire day. Needing to work harder to catch up with classes, missing outings with friends because you were too tired; all because he’d been ‘calling’ for you?

”Why?” you’re gritting your teeth together, trying to keep your emotions in check before you do something you regret. As unassuming as he looked now, you knew how quickly that could change. ”Why were you calling for me?”

Putra turned, walking towards you as pinkish water dripped down his chin. For a moment, he towered over you, his height increased by the shadows that freely peeked through Will’s wall of windows. He then kneels politely in front of you, folding his hands on his lap as he tilts his head downwards, gesturing with his eyes to your fisted hands. 

You uncurl your fingers and he’s so careful as he takes your hand into his grasp, feeling the curve of your knuckles and joints as he turns your palm up. He presses his lips there, the scar down the left side of his lip pressing to the pads of your fingers as he sighs and melts into your touch. You stiffen unsurely, heart hammering in your chest as he nuzzles his face into your hand. 

“Because we’re intertwined, our fates are attached.” He says this as though it is a factual, common knowledge shared among people when it absolutely wasn’t. 

“I’ve been waiting for you, adinda. Waiting, and waiting, for you to call for me. So we can be together. This land is strange now, the people are stranger, but you’re still the same.”

Putra looks at you and you can see the adoration within him pour out with every slow blink, those long lashes he had tickling your palm as he strokes the back of your hand. Touching you with reverence as he kneels before you when he’d already shown you just how powerful he was. 

“You’re still mine.”

”You’re not answering my questions clearly,” you sigh, pursing your lips as you try to make sense of the nonsense he’d spewed out in that soft voice. 

“How else should I answer such menial questions?” He surges to your face, lifting himself off his calves as he invades your space. Putra’s hair has this weirdest habit, almost as if it was emoting with him — the ends of it curl and lift with delight and anger and at the moment, as he comes closer to you they were lifting in complete delight. You place a hand on his shoulder and he instantly freezes. 

The sides of his mouth twitch but his thick brows slope, a semi-pout painting his features. You blink owlishly at him, trying to find the words as the seconds tick past. 

“…Adin —“

”I’m not kissing you until you answer all my questions. Normally. Clearly.”

You held your breath as he processed your words. But to your surprise, and chagrin, he starts chuckling. It’s unlike the shrieking he’d done, no fear rushed through you or the fine hairs on your neck lifting in alarm. He sounded like a normal person, and you scolded yourself for the rush of blood that pooled to your cheeks. 

“Alright, I’ll play your game. How many questions do you have for me?”

‘How about a 100?’ you wondered derisively but settled for 10. Putra settles himself back onto his ankles, hands once again politely folded on his lap as he nods encouragingly at you. 

“Okay, first question,” he hums to let you know he was listening. You clench your jaw, waiting for your brain to come up with something that would give you more answers than questions — you glance at the scar on the right side of his face, it was an odd little addition to the symmetry of his face. He curls the corner of his lips, tilting his head as he connects your gazes together. 

“What’s your name?” a flash of hurt crosses his face. His smile turns into a lipless frown, he turns his gaze to his lap and you feel an inane sprout of guilt. You couldn’t let him know that you had somehow figured it out — he was already convinced that somehow you had called for him, if he knew that his name had surfaced in the dark ether of your mind it would only enable him. 

“My name is Putra,” he whispered. 

“What are you?” Putra brings his hands together on his lap, threading his fingers through the other as his lower lip juts out. 

“I’m…yours?” you deadpan and he looks away from you. “We agreed you’d answer it normally and clearly, Putra.”

His name coming out from your mouth makes his eyes brighten up. You tuck this valuable piece of information in your mind for sticky situations.

”I’m…a vampire, of sorts.”

”Of sorts?” 

“Are you sure you want to use that as a question?” 

You huff through your nose, narrowing your eyes as you let your eyes take in the state of Will’s home. It was clean, but the little plants he had were beginning to wilt and you eye the trashcans he had, relieved that there wasn't any rotting food nor any flies buzzing around. 

“What happened to Will?” 

All at once, the room goes cold. Putra’s eyes go dark as he looks up at you, the moonlight flooding in through the windows making his skin much paler. You stiffen as his face goes void with emotion, tendrils of his hair lightly raising in contempt until he glances away again. Your breath comes back to you but you don’t dare move 

“He was a coward. What kind of men do you have in your life, adinda? He ran the moment he felt an inkling of fear. Dasar penjajah.” 

“What is that? What are you saying? That word you call me — what does it mean?” 

He frowns at this. Brows pinched in utter confusion. 

“Kau lupa bahasa ibunda?” 

Your frustrated silence is an answer, he swallows his confusion and answers. 

“That,” he says in a pointed tone. “Is Bahasa Malayu, I’m insulting those cowards and his bloodline of colonizers and the word,” his face softens the tiniest bit but then he continues. “That word is a word of affection. Something husbands call their partners. That’s six questions, you have fours left.” 

“You’re a vampire, you said. You sent those nightmares my way — you said I called for you and…and now you’re calling me your husband. I…I’ve never met you before.”

”Not in this life,” he mutters. “And for that, I hope you can forgive me. I didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long.”

“What do you mean by this life?” 

“Back then, we were taught that our souls do not reincarnate. Those foolish religious sycophants. You and I, we’re proof that they’re wrong. Your soul is the same, even if things are different. And I’m the same as before, you will see it soon.”

”Reincarnated?” you had never really thought of the terms and conditions of the afterlife. You’d work yourself into knots, finding little loopholes to the rules, daydreaming about the possibility of heaven and hell but reincarnation had never really been that satisfying. In one life, you were a humble man with a family and in the next, you could be reborn as a cow in a dairy factory or a rock. It felt odd hearing people claim that in their past lives, they were a famous figure or some evil dictator — so you can’t quite fathom what this vampire — ‘of sorts’ — was even saying. 

“I waited, I said, I waited for you,” Putra reaches for your hand again and his touch makes a shudder run through you. Ice cold, like a corpse. 

“Eight questions, two left.”

”Wha — That — That does not count.” Putra chuckles, trailing the edges of his lips to your fingers and palm and finally your wrist, eyelashes fluttering as he takes a breath. He pauses, eyes nearly rolling back as he looks at your lap, mouth slowly hanging open; his tongue wets his lips and the hint of teeth you see makes you eerily aware of how hungry his gaze is and what you had currently spilling from between your legs. 

He kept saying you smelled sweet. Even the thing in your apartment said the same. Your scent is too sweet, he growled out to you when the wrapped ghost had appeared and you’re hit with a sudden realization that he had meant it was because you were bleeding. Blood was used in all sorts of rituals, Hollywood horror movies that involved witches or black magic had taught you that much no matter how inaccurate everything else seemed. 

“Putra,” you tried to make your voice stern but it wavers anyways. He flicks his eyes to you, and you gasp softly at how blown out his eyes were — nearly swallowing the whites of his eyes as he waits for you to speak. 

“Two more questions,” you reminded as you cupped his cheek in your hand. Your touch causes him to politely close his mouth, relishing in the warmth of your palm. 

“How long have you been waiting for me to…for my soul to reincarnate?” 

Putra’s breath shudders on its way out, you could feel it brush over your skin as he tightens his grip on your hand. 

“It felt like an eternity. All I remember was falling asleep next to you, then just restless dreams.” 

You inwardly mutter that he deserved it but something about his sentence causes you to blurt out your last question. 

“Falling asleep next to me?”

He nods as his eyelids flutter open — the lashes tickling you as he raises onto his knees again. The hunger in his eyes returned this time, but there was this melancholy in them this time. Putra’s eyelids grew heavier, the bump on his nose grazing your cheek as he wrapped those deathly arms around your body. You feel him squeezing you, tighter and tighter but not enough to worry you. It spreads a rush through you, a layer of comfort you’d never known before in the form of him. 

He cradles the back of your head and your knees give way to his torso just as your eyes shine with tears.

”Like this,” he says into your ears. His chest presses over yours and you can feel the press of his mass flushed to your ribs. As if he was intent on melting into you, devouring you, like he wanted to be so close to you he wished to imprint the shape of him against yours. 

His face tucks into your neck, you gasp at his brush of teeth but he stays chaste as he breathes you in. 

“We held each other, like this.”

It’s your warmth that causes his lower lips to quiver. Oh, you don’t know just how he missed this, missed you. 

To feel your heart race against him, to feel your shuddering breath over his ears, to feel your body thrum with energy and life. 

Never again will he allow anyone to take this from you; he’ll be sure of that. Putra would be your sole protector in this life, forever and ever and ever. If death himself couldn’t rip Putra away from you, was life naive enough to try again?

“That’s ten questions,” you try to find an excuse to stop him but when he pulls away enough you’re stunned at the serene smile on his face. You swear you see a flush of red on his skin as his eyes squish into crescent moons. Putra brushes a thumb over your cheek, you pretend not to see flashes of horror behind your eyes with every blink. 

He places his forehead over yours, tendrils of his hair falling over his shoulder as he takes in every little detail of yours face. You feel the hand on your head push your head forward, a firm insistent in his pose as he flicks his dark eyes to your lips. 

“May I kiss you, adinda?”

Although he asks this, you know it’s just for show. You were trapped in his hold, his hunger pinning you in place as he waited impatiently for your meaningless answer.  You curl your hands into fists and lean forward, pushing your lips onto his. 

He groans into the kiss, the ends of his hair lifting as he pushes against you. You feel him moving, turning his head as he keeps you there, holding onto the nape of your neck as he places his knees besides your legs, effectively straddling you as he whimpers desperately.

”Putra — wait —“

”More, please,” he pants out. You keep your lips firmly shut, squirming now in his hold and he makes a noise akin to a wounded animal. Still, he presses his lips to yours. Kissing you again and again, his chest rising and falling as he relishes in the feeling. Your eyes widen when you notice him crying. 

Dark red liquid lines his eyes, slipping down the curve of his cheek as he stares down at you. It’s a ghastly sight, further proving his inhuman nature but you can’t help but stare at him as he cries crimson tears. It shimmers under the silvers of the night, like ruby gems decorating his face. Priceless bloody pearls that streak down to his neck and shirt, and onto your cheek as he sobs softly. 

“Please, adinda. Engkau sahaja yang aku mahu, engkau sahaja yang…engkau…” he tries to wipe his bloody tears away from you and you realize that he’s shaking. Here he is, a man strong enough to rip people into ribbons of meat, a vampire who’d been waiting for you for…for forever; sat on your lap, crying because he…

”I don’t…I don’t understand, Putra. I want to, but I don’t understand,” your voice was soft, afraid to cause him further distress. A drop of his tears paint your lips but you hold off on reacting as you watch him. 

“Please, let me kiss you. I can be good for you, I’ll protect you, I’ll make sure no one will ever hurt you like they did tonight. I know you said you don’t know me, that you didn’t mean to call for me, but you do. You do,” he laughs softly as he uses both hands to tenderly hold your face. He draws in closer again, his eyes nearly as greedy as him as it eclipses everything else in your sight. The red was beginning to stain the whites in his eyes and you lean backwards but he simply chases. 

“Kau mandi bunga, jumpa bomoh bodoh itu, suruh dia bukakkan mata batin. Semua itu untuk aku. Jiwa dan raga kau tahu.”

”You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.” 

“Putra, you’re scaring me,” he shushes you softly, soothing you like he would a baby as he brushes his lips over yours. 

“You’ve nothing to fear, cinta hatiku. I’ll never hurt you.”

His kisses this time weren’t insistent. It was commanding. You felt him grip onto your jaw and puppet you to his whims, you whimper into his mouth and he simply swallows it up. Everything, everything about you makes him lose his mind. It’s like you don’t see it — how handsome you were that night.

He’d felt the pull, heard the key turn and unlocked the doors to his cold prison the second that cold water washed over your face, the fragrant flowers sticking to the sides of your neck and your hair and the curve of your lashes. It was as though he was alive again as he watched from the corner of the room, feeling himself be stitched together by your acknowledgement of his existence. Dust and ash condensed together until his shape was complete and the first thing he did was admire you. 

Rose wasn’t the most tactful shaman, but Putra could smell it from her blood that she came from a long line of strong women. He hadn’t minded her, or the strange place he was now in, but he noticed Will. Holding his phone as he recorded the intimate ritual, recorded you topless and wet and dazed and Putra couldn’t believe it. This man, with his nose-curling scent, and too sharp smile — if Putra hadn’t been too weak at that moment he would’ve torn him apart. 

He watched as you barely came too, dizzy from Putra using your energy. Will had helped you with your clothes, and Rose watched Putra’s shape from the corner of her eyes. It was funny seeing her pride shift to wariness and settle on dread when his body finally became tangible enough for her to recognize what he was. 

“This energy isn’t malicious,” she’d told you. “It simply wants to communicate with you, this spirit is full of love. It won’t hurt you.”

She wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t malicious towards you, he wants to talk to you, he was full of love for you. He won’t hurt you.

This did not apply to anyone else.

Will had said goodbye to Rose and she knew it in her gut that that would be the last time he’d see him again. 

You could feel yourself getting lightheaded, drowning in the taste of darkness as the scent of jasmine overtakes your senses. Putra is relentless, his teeth nipping at your lower lip as he practically eats you alive. You feel your body melt against the couch, no longer leaning away but instead giving him more room as hazy memories fill you.

Kissing someone had never felt like this damning before. You weren’t a virgin, you’d had your fair share of lovers and partners but they had never managed to make you feel this rush before. You could pinpoint fear but in that hurricane of emotions, you felt a sense of nostalgia — it felt like a copout, some inane bullshit the universe was throwing your way to make this feel okay and you hated that you were taking it. He kissed you the way you liked, shameless as he sucked on your tongue, barely giving you room to breathe as he whispered your name against your lips. Nose bumping into yours, his strong hands loosening their hold as they trailed down your neck.

An ache settles deep within you. You try to push it down, try to swallow it to find some rationality in this supernatural mess but Putra pulls away; a trail of blood and spit now smeared across his mouth as he gazes down at you.

”Please,” he begs. You see the puffs of air between you as he gingerly traces his hands down your sides, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt. 

“Let me show you how well I know you, how much I worship you.”

You must be delirious. Insane. Losing your goddamn mind. In a state of psychosis even. But your silence is answer enough and Putra carefully pushes your knees apart. 

He’s starving — hands gripped under your thighs as he slips his tongue to your sex. Again, and again, and again. You’re panting, gripping onto the back of the couch as he groans, his pink muscle worming in and moaning at the taste of you. That metallic tang, that sweetness that causes his eyes to go dark like a shark. You can’t find the words — tongue heavy like lead as he messily dives in again. 

“You’re shivering” Putra murmurs to your thighs, biting down on your flesh as he gives your poor cunt some momentary relief. “Are you cold?”

continued ▸ Patreon

[fadedpiink]

hi there! I saw that ur req are open and I would like to req an Usopp x reader who's s/o is his darling muse :3 💞

thanks for the request! ilobed this idea sm! I hope you enjoy<3

darling muse (following the alabasta events)

bf! usopp who..

gets embarrassed halfway through painting your face and suddenly starts over, saying "no no no i can do better! you deserve better!!" — ends up doing it like five times before finally getting one he’s proud of.

bf! usopp who..

makes super dramatic “hero portraits” of you, posing you like a grand warrior in paintings that are way bigger and fancier than necessary, even though you protest "usopp, i’m not that cool!" "yes you are!!"

bf! usopp who..

secretly carries a tiny sketchbook where he draws little doodles of you doing random things — eating, laughing, fixing your gear — because those are the versions of you he loves the most.

---

a little scenario!

you were looking for a blanket.  

just a blanket. the nights at sea had been cold lately, and your usual one smelled like desert and dried blood.

so you ducked into the storage room below deck, poked around some old barrels, and found a small crate marked “scraps + emergency supplies (DO NOT STEAL, SANJI)”.

inside were the usual things: cloth, old rope, a broken slingshot — and tucked neatly under them all, like it was hiding, was a worn leather sketchbook.

you hesitated.

you knew it was usopp’s. he guarded this thing like it was treasure.  

he doodled in public sometimes, sure — exaggerated portraits of the crew, maps of enemy bases, cartoon versions of luffy tripping.  

but this was the book he always kept close to his side.  

the private one.

you shouldn’t’ve opened it.

…but you did.

and at first, it was what you expected: rough outlines of inventions, practice anatomy sketches, color swatches made with natural dyes.  

a few surprisingly graceful landscapes — a moonlit harbor, the silhouette of vivi waving goodbye, nami holding a compass with the wind pulling her hair.  

but near the back… you found you.

page after page.  

you, sitting with your legs in the water off the Merry’s edge.  

you, laughing with your nose scrunched up.  

you, asleep in a pile of cloaks with your hand curled under your cheek.

that last one made your breath catch.  

it was so soft.  

so still.  

drawn with trembling lines like he was afraid to mess it up.  

the kind of drawing you didn’t just make—you felt through your fingertips.  

he even drew the scar on your arm, faint and old, like it belonged there.  

like it was part of the story of you.

“hey—!”

you jumped and spun around.

usopp was in the doorway, eyes wide, a length of rope dangling forgotten from his hand.

“…you weren’t supposed to see that one,” he said quickly, stepping inside, voice a little too high. “i-it was just practice. lighting study. the—uh—the angle of your fingers was weird, and i needed reference, and—”

you just held up the sketchbook, still open to that page.  

his ears turned bright red.

“usopp,” you said gently. “this is beautiful.”

he made a choked sound. “it’s—sloppy. i didn’t even finish the shading, and your hair came out weird—”

“you drew me like i’m something worth holding onto,” you said, voice softer now. “like i matter.”

“you *do,*” he blurted, and froze.  

the silence was heavy after that.  

he stared at you. like he couldn’t believe he said it out loud.

you met his eyes, smile slow and real.  

“you could’ve just said so, y’know.”  

“i did,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “with… charcoal and bad anatomy.”

you walked over, tugged gently at his sleeve.  

“next time i fall asleep,” you said, “draw me again.”

he blinked. “huh?”

“and this time,” you added, “sign it. 'cause i want to keep it.”

usopp looked stunned.  

then, shyly, he grinned. wide and uneven and full of heart.

“…yeah,” he said quietly. “okay.”

hope you enjoyed! please like + reblog to show support, and feel free to leave feedback and comments through rb tags, anon messages, or dms!

© fadedpiink 2025

[konigofmyheart]

long way down ᥫ᭡ pt 4 (end)

MDNI!!!

part 1 ᥫ᭡ part 2 ᥫ᭡ part 3

you took the long way down, but you’ve found love with könig…

(virgin fem!reader, implied age gap: reader is mid 20’s, reader’s ex is drunk + reckless, mentions of blood and light injuries; he gets dealt with then SMUT)

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

people always say time slows down in intense situations, and you can definitely attest to that now. your breath catches in your throat, your knees grow a bit weak as stevens takes another step towards you. he’s drunk off his ass, you can tell by the way he stumbles before you even catch the glint of the beer bottle in his hand. the world narrows to this single alley, the sound of the crowds fading away as you foolishly hope against hope he won't even notice you, that he’ll just throw up in this random alley and carry on to the base, but-

“it’s all your fault”, he hiccups, bleary eyes fighting to focus on you as he takes another step towards you.

you open your mouth to… what? respond? warn him away? it doesn't matter because not a sound even comes out. it’s like the night air that refreshed you so nicely mere minutes ago has now stolen your voice. it helps that he’s always been able to talk at you, not needing a response before rambling on. 

“do you see how i am? …because of you. i’m like this because of you and that-” he mumbles something unintelligible, bracing a hand on the wall to regain his balance. 

this would usually be the point you run, but run where, exactly? even drunk as he is, you’re sure it’d only be too easy for him to catch at you and stop your escape. further down the alley isn’t an option either, you see a faded wall closing that end off. it’d be thoroughly trapping yourself if you head deeper in. it comes down to calming him enough so he’ll let his guard down, just enough for you to slip past. 

“you really don’t look okay. are your friends around?” you ask, your voice tight with fear, praying they’re just around the corner and they’ll come collect him.

“those dickheads… they’re just like everyone else. always laughing at me, never staying-”

smart guys. they caught on to what type of person stevens is quicker than you did. it makes sense, their judgement wouldn’t be clouded by any affection for him, no flashes of the boy you grew up with, of the way he sometimes would regret his outbursts, even if his apologies never really fixed anything. 

he’s within arms reach now, the sharp scent of his many drinks stinging your nose. too close for comfort, yet the second you take a step back, he takes one forward. 

“you should head inside, get some water… or i can go get it for you-” just let me out. 

“so you can go running to your man?” he takes a shuddering breath, his bloodshot eyes flaring with anger. “why do you have to do all this shit? why’d you have to bring him in between us?”

okay, now this is familiar. the blaming, the washing his hands of any wrongdoing to act hurt. 

“that has nothing to do with this. just go back to base, you need water, sleep-” just like before, redirect. make it about him, about how worried you are for him, stroke his ego. 

“shut up!” he shouts, tossing the bottle aside. you flinch at the crash of the glass, practically squeaking as he closes in, your back against the wall you admired the stars from, except this time nothing feels like it’ll be okay. 

“baby, come on… i hate seeing that fucker’s hands all over what’s mine” he slurs, his hands snaking around your waist. 

“benjamin, let go.”

he laughs, a short, raspy sound, tilting his head as he looks down at you. “oh, i’m benjamin now? your man makes you call me that? what happened to benji?” he ends with a sing song voice, actual tears welling in his eyes. 

he’s fully unwell. you’re here, trapped with this unstable guy, the stars just blinking down as if to say they wish they could help, but they’re miles too far. you could cry too, rather you’re the only one here who has the right to cry, but that won’t help a thing. you grit your teeth as he leans closer, burying his nose in your hair, still rambling on about the past, about how good things were, about how you’re such a bitch for moving on. the minute you feel his skin against yours, just his nose brushing against your cheek as he clumsily tries to kiss you, something inside you snaps.  

you shove at him with all your might, wanting him away from you, away from your life, from memory itself-

he snarls- actually snarls like some animal- and then he’s moving quick at you, his entire body tensed for action. 

stiletto’s lessons, her advice and tips run through your mind like a film reel, and before you know it, you’ve landed a punch against stevens’s jaw. it was a clumsy punch, and for a fraction of a second you believe it hurt you more than it hurt him, but when he cups at his face, a look of absolute shock across his features, you know he’s feeling the same throbbing pain you feel in your knuckles. stiletto’s voice rings through your head, reminding you to “strike fast, the moment you stop is the moment you give up your turn”. you sure don’t want to see what he’d do when it’s his turn. the one thing that’s kept him from being a full monster is he’s never physically hurt you, but the unsteady shake to his hands tells you that could change right now if you aren’t quick enough. you’re thanking all the stars for letting you meet stiletto, for having her be so kind as to teach you how to defend yourself, for now you’re elbowing him in the nose, buying yourself time with that blooming pain in his face to strike right under his ribs, knocking the breath from him. 

though he’s been at this longer than you have, it's obvious he never expected you to actually fight back. that was his mistake, his shock and disbelief making him hesitate, giving you the perfect opening. your breath comes in sharp gasps, your own hands shaking as you watch him touch at his upper lip, his fingers coming away shining with his own warm blood. 

something in you wants to curl up now, to hide somewhere- anywhere- but there’s nowhere to go as his face contorts, the blood only adding to the nightmarish effect. at least they won’t be able to say you didn’t go down without a fight, right?

the next seconds seem like a dream, your shuddering breath as you see him launch himself at you again, his arms positioned in preparation to block any attack now, but he doesn’t have to worry about that. you did your part, said your peace, sometimes things just go south like this-

you flinch against the wall as a sudden flash of someone else- könig- intercepts stevens, a grunt leaving the latter as he falls onto his ass on the concrete.

könig looks bigger than he ever has before, drawn up to his full height as he stands in front of you, looking as immovable as a wall. “leave. this is your only warning”, he says, his voice so eerily steady and at odds with the way his hands are shaking, as if it's taking every ounce of his self control to not tear stevens apart. 

you startle as you feel two hands wrap around your shoulders, stiletto now hugging you to her, and you gratefully lean in to her warmth, wishing you could curl up in her arms and forget everything, but stevens’ growl brings you back to this cold, dark alley, to the blood on his face and the ache in your hand-

stevens has always been headstrong, downright stubborn, even when it’s clear his boldness will only yield disastrous results. it doesn’t surprise you one bit when he springs back to his feet and lunges forward again, like he’ll draw könig’s blood, like he won’t end up a mess on the concrete- permanently this time. you blink, and könig has him entirely pinned to the floor, stevens looking like a child compared to könig’s imposing figure- so righteous and solid he could be mistaken for some mythical god. stevens is struggling, all insults and groans, his hands and feet scrabbling at the ground, trying to find purchase to shove könig off, and könig-

könig is so still it’s eerie, his only movement a tilt to his head as he regards stevens, as if he has all the time in the world to weigh his life in his hands. 

stiletto gently takes your hand- the one you landed the first punch with- into hers, her wincing on your behalf as you watch the two men with a numb detachment. “ay, that’s gotta sting, huh, tesoro?” 

könig’s head snaps up at that, his expression instantly softening as it zeros in on you, the tight expression of shock on your face crushing his heart. 

“schatzi-” he begins, his voice so worried and sorry- for what you don’t know- but then horangi is joining this gathering, rubbing at his jaw as he takes in the scene, piecing the story together from your split knuckles to the way könig is pinning stevens to the floor with barely restrained rage. 

years working together make it easy for könig to nod at horangi, horangi giving a terse nod back, communicating silently before he goes to secure stevens as könig shoves off of him, all of könig’s attention now focused on you. 

it's like night and day, the man that was pinning stevens down gone now as he gently takes your hand from stiletto, quietly tutting under his breath, his brows crinkling together under his hood.

“meine liebe- are you- what happened?” he asks, your heart clenching at the way he’s fumbling for words, like it's physically hurting him to see you so scared. 

you manage a shaky “i’m okay”, before stevens protests as horangi pulls him to his feet interrupt. 

“you bitch,” he spits at you, his eyes practically shooting daggers. “you broke my fucking nose.”

“be thankful that’s all that’s broken. were it up to me…” stiletto shoots back with a harsh laugh, her grip on your shoulders tightening. 

könig strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, very carefully avoiding getting his touch too close to your knuckles, his warmth seeping into your hand and over to your very soul. 

“gather your things from base. you’re done,” he says cooly, not even bothering to raise his voice at stevens.

stevens splutters, squirming in horangi’s hold. “what?! you cant-”

“you just assaulted a civilian, and then attempted to assault your superior”, könig cuts in. “i've wanted you gone months ago, yet i tried to be professional. you’ve just given me justification for firing you, nicely wrapped up with witnesses and everything.”

now stevens really loses it, thrashing wildly in horangi’s hold as he curses everything, down to the very stars themselves. 

stiletto kisses the top of your head, giving you a small smile and a “well done, bella” before she's moving to help horangi lead stevens away. 

“we’ll have him off base and banned asap. he won’t bother you anymore, königin,” horangi calls from the entrance of the alley. you nod, even laughing a little as you watch stiletto demonstrate all the ways she would have beaten stevens up as they escort him away. 

“i wish i was as spunky as her” you say quietly, hugging könig’s jacket around yourself, a constant shaking taking over you now that you’re truly spent. könig opens his arms, leaning back a little to give you more than enough space to reject it, to not push you further than you've been pushed tonight, but you gratefully bury yourself against his chest, feeling your heart piece itself back together bit by bit. 

“you did great, schatzi. you did exactly what you should have. i’m so proud of you” he murmurs into your hair, and though it’s must make his back sore to be hunched down like this, you two don’t move for what feels like eons, your watering eyes blurring the stars into a smeared painting as you finally let yourself feel everything that’s happened tonight.

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

“you look like a racoon”, you tease, smiling as you catch sight of könig sitting on the edge of the bed without his mask. his eye black smudged across his eyes really does make him look like one of those fuzzy little guys. 

he watches as you towel your hair off, having showered as soon as you returned to base. 

“do i at least look like a cool racoon?” he asks, his voice soothingly filling the room. 

you nod, draping the now damp towel over the back of a chair as you take his cue- his hand held out, waiting for yours- and walk over to him. you place your hand in his, him quietly tutting again at the sight of your split skin over your knuckles. the smell of aloe fills your nose as he unscrews a little container, scooping some ointment out with a cotton swab before bringing it to your knuckles. könig gently rubs the back of your hand with his thumb when he feels you tense, quietly assuring you it won’t burn, and as always, he speaks the truth. the ointment feels so cooling, soothing the sting of your split knuckles perfectly. 

you smile to yourself as you watch him dutifully wrap a thin bandage around your hand, his hands as steady as if he were performing surgery. he’s always so gentle, so careful, even when he proposed you stay the night at base again, for fear stevens might show at your apartment. he instantly added on that he could stay in horangi’s room after you agreed to his idea, but you grabbed his hand, telling him you’d feel better if he was with you. he quietly shushed you when you said it was silly to still be scared, assuring you it was entirely reasonable considering everything, and that he’d be more than happy to be on guard duty if it made you feel safer. 

it really did, his mere presence helped you relax quicker. you kept your hand in his a little after he finished securing the bandage, debating on whether you should or shouldn’t break the comfortable silence, but you had to say it.

“sorry for going off on my own like that. none of that would have happened if i’d stayed inside with all of you,” you said quietly, feeling a bit guilty that the fun night ended up this way. 

könig gently guided you to meet his eyes, the blue like a slow stream on a summer afternoon. 

“none of what happened was your fault. tell me you understand that, schatzi”, he said, his voice the gentlest you’d ever heard it.

you nod, leaning in to his touch instinctively. his warmth feels like a balm for your very heart, and you can’t help but smile as he shifts his hand to cup your face, cooing a quiet endearment under his breath. the way his thumb strokes your cheek makes you feel so fragile, in the best way possible. like you’re some beautiful, priceless treasure he can’t believe he’s allowed to touch. that’s who he is. someone who’s so noble and caring with those he loves. you’ve been a witness to what a good friend he is, to how he’s never the type to take advantage of a situation even if everything has lined up perfectly for him. you wouldn’t believe someone like him actually existed if it wasn’t for the very real warmth blooming in your chest because of the way he’s looking at you. 

“what is it?” he asks, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he answers your smile with one of his own. 

the worst that could happen already did, didn’t it? what’s there left to lose?

you take a deep breath, shifting on your feet, bracing yourself. 

“the reason i stepped out like that was because i realized this had become real to me… that i wanted you to hold me like that because you wanted to, that i wanted you to call me those names and really mean it, to actually be yours…”

könig hesitates a second, his thumb pausing its steady rhythm on your cheek. 

“schatzi, tonight was very… emotion-packed… you might not mean any of this in the morning-”

“i’m fully aware, but this has nothing to do with what happened. i’ve never meant anything more in my life,” you assure könig, the absolute sincerity in your eyes and voice giving him pause.

time slows again, but this time it’s more than welcome as you two regard each other. he hasn’t given you a verbal response, but könig is sure the look his face is telling you all you need to know. he feels like this is some sick dream, life is dangling the thing he wants most- for someone to see him and still want him- right in front of him, just to snatch it away when he wakes from this fantasy. everyday since knowing you has been a wonderful fantasy, having someone who wants to hear his stories, someone who laughs at his lame jokes, someone who trusts him with her deepest secrets…and somehow wants more? it’s almost too good to be true.

könig’s ever more sure it’s a dream as you take initiative, leaning forward to kiss him. he’d be embarrassed about the sound he makes- like he’s been wounded- if he wasn’t living the best moment of his entire life. your kiss is careful, soft, perfectly fitting the delicate atmosphere. his hands actually shake as the other comes up to cup your face too, könig barely managing to restrain from kissing you the way he’s been wanting to for so long. he could die happy just like this, holding his whole world in his hands, but you did go through something very alarming today, you need rest, time to think everything through properly. könig has half a mind to fight himself as he pulls away from the kiss, your warmth clinging to his lips like it knows it belongs there. 

your face falls a little as you open your eyes, a light blush on your cheeks. “ah, did i read that wrong? i’m so sorry, i shouldn’t have-”   

könig stops you, placing a soft kiss on your forehead before letting his hands fall away from your face, already missing the feeling of your skin against his palms as your apology trails off.

“of course not, schatzi. that was the best kiss of my entire life…i just don’t want to take advantage of tonight. i don’t want you to regret it. how about we talk about it in the morning, when you’ve had time to think?”

you smile at his words, nodding, and then he’s tucking you into bed, telling you he won’t be long. you slowly begin to doze off to the soundtrack of könig’s bedtime routine, the sound of the shower lulling you into a relaxed state. when he joins you in bed, you only have enough energy to reach out and hold his hand before you fall asleep.  

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

your head feels fuzzy when you finally come to the next day, a glance at your phone sending a jolt through you. it’s already well past midday… your disorientation only growing whenyou see könig’s side of the bed already empty, and hear another voice at the door. 

horangi’s quietly telling könig to let him know if you two need anything else, and you hear könig instantly answer. 

“thanks, man, i owe you one…”

“nah, anything for your girl,” horangi teases. “you should eat before it gets cold, though!” he says a bit louder, earning a harsh shushing from könig.  

you tug the covers up to your face, unable to stop the way your face heats at the sound of that. 

könig’s girl…

you could get used to that.

when you pop your head out of the blanket again, you’re greeted with könig’s back as he quietly sets the bag down on his desk, his face lighting up when he turns and sees you awake. 

“guten tag, schatzi… you up for eating? we got your favorite.”

you smile, sitting up in bed and thanking him, you stomach growling to back up your answer. you move to the edge of the bed, laying napkins across the bedspread to catch any crumbs as könig brings the desk chair over, and the two of you eat, könig telling you of his and horangi’s running favor tally. you’re sworn to secrecy about that time horangi got stuck in a vent because of all his gear, könig being the only one on the team able to reach high enough to yank him down, but you two are laughing together, today already a thousand times better than last night. 

you’ve just finished your last bite when horangi’s whispered “hey!” filters through the door. könig playfully groans, finishing up the last bite of his double portion before getting up to answer the door. 

“i’m already awake!” you call out, and horangi now confidently strides into the room, smiling at you. 

“oh good! i’m gonna have to take your man for a little- mission gone south, now they need to make some last minute plans. you don’t mind, right?” 

you shake your head, smiling at the way horangi’s purposely ignoring könig like he’s asking you if he can take your pet out for a bit. 

“go, it’s cleary important. i’ll be fine,” you assure them, and horangi nods at you, plucking up one of the many snacks könig requested for you. to könig’s dismay, it’s his favorite chocolate bar, something horangi clearly knows as he parades it across könig’s view as he makes his way back out. 

“the others are already in the meeting room. let’s go!” he calls, his voice fading as he heads down the hall. 

you set to cleaning, picking up the empty food containers before könig approaches the bed again. 

“leave it, schatzi, please. i’ll pick up when i get back”

“it’ll do me good. it’s relaxing”, you assured him, reaching out to give his hand a squeeze. könig smiles at you, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head, promising to return as soon as he’s no longer needed at the meeting. 

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

you potter around the room, playing music from your phone and smiling at each little könig thing you find. when you change the bed sheets and go to put the dirty ones in the hamper in the corner, you notice a pile of haphazardly folded t-shirts on the clean side. you scoop the pile up, sorting through them on the bed before opening up his closet and finding the hangers. one of the t shirts is so well loved, the design of that old band he likes all cracked and faded on the front, with a list of dates going down the back. figures he’d have gone to that tour, you’d only heard a couple of their songs but they really did fit his vibe so well. you make sure to add those songs to your playlist queue, humming along to them when you move on to the bedside tables, clearing your glass from your side, wiping down the surface, then moving to his side. you clear his glass as well, also picking up a couple snack wrappers from breakfast yesterday, the brands and flavors already filed away in your mind as “könig’s favorites”.

you return two pens and a stack of post its to his desk across the room, opening the drawers to find where they belong. you set them with the others, smiling at the way they’re perfectly organized. he’s pretty tidy overall, he just gets the tiniest bit careless when he’s busy with work- and now you. a flash of pink catches your eyes as you’re about to close the drawer, and you feel your face heat as you recognize the envelope of your letter… it feels like ages since you sent that letter to stevens, a last ditch, misguided effort to get him back, to appease him over something that wasn’t your fault. 

you find yourself laughing a little as you settle on the edge of könig’s bed to reread your words, cringing at just how lost you were. the pictures set your face ablaze, the thought of könig seeing them making butterflies form in your stomach. you knew he’d seen the letter, he told you as much when you first spoke, but you didn’t think he’d keep it. you have half a mind to frame the envelope, to treat it as some magical token, for it led you to könig, someone actually worth the effort and love that you’d been offering to the wrong person. 

it’s funny, but you can’t help but be a little thankful towards stevens. if he hadn’t been such a dick, you wouldn’t know a good thing when you saw it. everyday knowing könig has felt like a dream, his attentiveness, his gentle consideration, his care making you feel like a princess. you finally know what it feels like to be loved, and to truly love him as well. the very thought makes a gentle warmth, like a slowly crackling fire, light in your chest, and you hold it close, practically dancing around the room as you tidy up some more. 

you’re finishing up wiping down the bathroom counter when you hear the door and his voice at the same time, könig’s keys jingling as he hangs them on a little hook on the wall alongside his mask, and shuts the door behind him. 

“schatzi? are you- ah,” he smiles as you poke your head out of the bathroom. 

he looks around the room, taking in every little change your cleaning accomplished, the room finally looking how it does when he has time to focus on putting everything where it belongs. 

“you are magic. everything looks perfect, liebe, thank you,” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead again.

you hum in response, one of your hands coming up to rest on his arm.

“it’s the least i could do, i’ve been taking up so much of your time, könig. it was very relaxing, actually. how was your meeting?”

“all good, we sorted out a new evac route for the team on the ground. everything’s going smoothly again,” he replies. “but i didn’t come to bore you with my work…how about we go to the cafe for dinner? only if you want to, of course- i can also just make something for us.”

“the cafe sounds great! i’ve been wanting more pie, but…we should talk, no?” you take his hand, leading him to join you in sitting on the edge of the bed. 

you hold up the pink envelope, könig’s eyes widening at the sight, the look on his face matching that of a dog being scolded. 

“so, this letter-”

“i’m so sorry for keeping it, schatzi. i know it wasn’t for me, but i also couldn’t just toss it somewhere and let your number or pictures fall into the wrong hands-”

you smile at his carefulness, the sincerity in his apology making your heart swell.

“let me finish, or i’ll forget the phrasing i practiced!” you giggle, and he visibly relaxes upon realizing you aren’t upset. 

“okay, so- this letter wasn’t originally addressed to you, but i am forever thankful you found it. without this, i wouldn’t have found you. i wouldn’t know how nice it feels to have someone actually care for me, to think about my feelings, to always put me first. i now know what i was living before was a fake fantasy; you taught me what real love is. you taught me that love isn’t walking on eggshells around someone to not upset them, that it’s not putting up with hurtful things for the sake of the other-” you take a breath, emotion making your voice waver a little, and könig reaches out to gently rub your back, giving you the strength you need to continue. “- you are truly the best man i have ever known. i meant it yesterday- the kiss, and that i like you, so much it feels like its gonna make me burst,” you finish, blushing as you force yourself to look könig in the eyes. those butterflies in your stomach now feel like a frenzied swarm, the way your hands tremble matching the way könig’s hands shake as he takes yours. 

for a second, you two just stare at each other, suspended in this dreamlike haze where anything feels possible.

“from the second i read your letter, i fell for you. your very soul was on this page,” könig taps the letter with his free hand, a smile tugging at his lips. “you are unlike anyone i’ve ever known, that’s why i reached out that first time. it was like a voice whispered in my ear that i’d never come across another soul like yours, that i had to secure a connection to you before i lost my chance, and i’m so glad i did. i’m not going to lie, it was… difficult watching you go after him so determinedly, both because of my feelings, and because of who he is, but i just don’t think i can ever say no to you. not with those eyes of yours” he reaches up to cup your face again, and you’re sure he can feel the way your face is burning with each word he says, but he doesn’t let on. “last night- pulling away from your kiss was the hardest thing i’ve done in my life. it’s been on repeat in my head all day, making it damn near impossible for me to even think in the meeting. i’ve never felt this way for anyone, schatzi, i never thought i could- never in my wildest dreams did i imagine i’d love someone as much as i love you, or that the feeling would be reciprocated,” he said, his voice cracking a little as he finished up.

what a picture the two of you must be, both your faces flushed and eyes sparkling with tears at the enormity of your feelings, but any embarrassment has no place here, not with how he’s looking at you like you’re the most precious treasure he’s ever seen. 

this time, he leans in to kiss you, giving you more than enough time to pull away, but why would you do that when you’ve also been replaying the feeling of his lips on yours since last night? this kiss feels like it’s piecing you back together, every brush of your lips against his like a salve to that burning fire in your chest, shaping it until it’s a steady glow, illuminating you from the inside out, stealing your breath as he deepens the kiss, or maybe it’s you, but you two are clutching at each other like your the other’s last hope for life itself. this is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, now you finally understand what all the books and movies and songs were going on and on about. you’ve gone your whole life craving this, and now that you’ve gotten a taste, you need more. 

you loop your arms behind his neck, pulling him down on top of you as you lay back on the bed. könig, ever so carefully keeps his weight entirely off of you, gently coaxing your mouth open with his tongue. he groans into the kiss as you tangle your fingers in his hair and give a tentative suck to his tongue, and now he’s practically folding into you, his very warm, very firm body enveloping you as he braces his forearms on either side of your head. he pulls away just the slightest from your kiss, the two of you catching your breath as you admire each other, and you wonder if he can somehow sense the fire in your belly, desire stirring awake inside you. 

“könig, i want you.”

“you have me, schatzi, for as long as you wish,” he responds with a light peck to your lips, his eyes practically sparkling as he looks at you. 

“no, i mean… i want you.” 

his eyes widen at your words, at the determination in your voice. he holds himself up on one arm, his free hand coming to smooth your hair away from your face, his fingers brushing against your cheek as his hand shakes a little. 

“liebe… are you sure?” he asks, even his voice is unsteady. 

there’s such softness in his gaze, such love, that you know he’d practically leap across the room if you said no, but he is everything you’ve ever wanted nicely wrapped up in a ribbon the same shade of blue as his eyes.

you respond with a breathless “yes”, the word hanging between this shared space, your breath mixing with his when you reach up to stroke his cheek. he shudders, an expression of such longing and affection on his face when he nuzzles into your touch. each little kiss, from the one he places on your palm to the ones he trails down your arm feel like strokes from a glowing paint brush, like each of his touches will leave a permanent mark.

every single inch of your skin is a masterpiece to him, one he worships with a kiss as he ever so slowly pushes your shirt up. he smiles as you giggle a little with each brush of his lips on your stomach, relishing in the way you’re so relaxed beneath him, trusting him with your very being, something that he will never take lightly. 

you’ve never been more sure of anything in your life than you are right now, each of könig’s touches pleading, asking, and thanking all at the same time, stoking that fire in your belly in the most delicious way. the way könig freezes before uncovering more of you until you nod has you feeling the safest you’ve ever been. it feels like everything’s clicked into place, every sense is heightened in the best way, and you know that life will never be the same after this, this sentiment echoed by the look in his eyes as he takes in the sight of you lying entirely bare on his bed.

könig’s sure he’s died and gone to heaven, he must have, because how else can such a miracle be explained? someone like you loves him, wants him, is looking at him like that… it’s clearly not a dream, though. your pulse beating against his lips as he kissed your neck, your scent flooding his senses, and the way you look now has him feeling like his mind is shutting down. his entire world comes down to just you, to the curve of your breasts, the way your fingers absentmindedly flex on the comforter, to the way your kiss-swollen lips part are all things he wants to commit to memory, to have it permanently emblazoned in his mind, to think of nothing else ever again except you, only you-

your breathless laugh coaxes him back to his senses, your “it’s not fair only you get a show, kö,” coupled with the way you tug at his shirt has him blushing hard. in an instant he’s helping you, tugging his shirt over his head as you paw at his pants, undoing them for him before he pushes them down, baring himself to you body and soul. 

you fare no better than he did in terms of short circuiting at the sight of him. sure, you’d gotten little peeks when he’d lift his shirt in training, or the times he’d emerge from the shower shirtless, but this was a personal display just for you. your eyes greedily trace every dip and curve of his body, the way his muscles twitch as if your stare is actually a touch instead mesmerizes you. he’s covered in scars, reasonably so, this is no easy job, but that just makes you want him more. he’s always seemed bigger than life, and that’s backed up with the sheer size of him. you try not to drool at the sight of his length, the way it droops from its weight despite being entirely hard, the leaking tip matching the slickness between your thighs… you feel not a shred of fear at his size, knowing without a doubt that he’ll do everything to care for you, that he’d never hurt you. you just feel need, need to become one with him, to share your love as you shared your breath after that first kiss-

“i’m sorry about the scars, schatzi… i can leave my shirt on if it makes you feel more comf-” könig‘s breath hitches as you reach out to trace a faded scar slashed over his chest, right where his heart is, and you lean forward and kiss it. 

“you’re beautiful,” you whisper, your eyes practically sparkling as you look up at him. 

könig makes a mental note to write up a list of all the gods he’ll have to thank for you, a boyish grin tugging at his mouth as he guides you to lay back down. he captures your lips in another kiss, pouring all the love he’s kept in these past months, finally getting it off his chest. 

“you are absolutely everything i have ever wanted, meine liebe” he murmurs between the hot, open mouthed kisses he trails from the base of neck down the middle of your chest, pausing to kiss each of your perked nipples before continuing his path to your tummy. 

you instinctively let your thighs fall open at the sensation of his warm breath raising goosebumps on your skin before your mind catches up, your face heating as you realize what he’s about to do.

“oh, you don’t have to-”

he soothes you with a kiss to your inner thigh, his eyes locked onto yours as he settles between your legs. 

“do you want me to, schatzi?” his tone like gasoline to the flame of desire that ignited inside you since you first kissed. 

“...yes. i’ve always wondered what it would feel like,” you admit, unable to lie to him when he’s looking at you with pure devotion like that.

“good girl,” he rewards you with a kiss to the top of your pussy, his smile making you even wetter. “you are to tell me any way i can serve you, any way i can make you feel good and happy. this is a privilege for me, understand?” 

you nod, feeling like your brain is melting out of your ears with the sincerity in his words, in his touch as he licks a slow stripe up your dripping slit, gathering your slick on his tongue. you answer his groan with a whimper, a shiver of pleasure running through your entire body. 

könig’s never been the type to let things slip from between his fingers. everything from targets to promotions are guaranteed his when he sinks his metaphorical teeth in, and this is no different. he wraps his arms around your thighs, holding you spread as he loses himself in your taste, in the angelic moans you bless him with as he laps at your pussy like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, because it is. nothing will ever compare to your taste, he’ll spend every second away from you just wishing he’d be smothered in you like this. könig would be embarrassed at the way he’s groaning, and practically whimpering as he eats you out so desperately, if he’d be able to have any coherent thoughts right now. your hands tangling in his hair must have drained his mind until only you are left, and he sucks on your clit appreciatively, a thanks for realigning his priorities to what truly matters. 

your vocabulary is whittled down to only könig’s name, “yes”, and “more”, your breath hitching on that last one once his determined tongue dips at your entrance while the tip of his crooked nose bumps your clit. you answer his unspoken question with a tug of his hair, bucking your hips to grind against his face, begging him to keep going, the barest worry of being too demanding quickly quashed by the muffled “that’s it, schatzi,” groaned against your pussy by the giant of a man. any response you were considering falls flat on your tongue, replaced by a downright debauched moan as his tongue slips inside you, your slick and his saliva mixing to ease its journey. you could cry at how your fingers will never satisfy you again if you weren’t so occupied with trying to hold on to the last fragment of composure you have left when he begins to slowly thrust his tongue in and out of you, working you open with such heavenly licks until you’re writhing on his bed. 

only your breathy request for more after a moment has könig sliding his tongue out from you, replacing it with his fingers at your entrance, cursing his tongue for not being able to magically expand to fill you up the way you need, the way your clenching entrance betrays. at least his tongue can make itself useful swirling and flicking at your clit as he slowly works a thick finger inside you, his eyes locked onto you, watching for any signs of discomfort, but you just wiggle your hips, moaning so sweetly and welcoming the light stretch as your walls clench around it greedily. 

his own need is a distant, dull throb somewhere against the comforter, instantly having taken a backseat to your comfort and pleasure, to focusing on not overwhelming you as he carefully adds another finger, light little kisses to your clit turning the faint sting to nothing when he pumps them in and out of you, as careful as if he were disarming a bomb. the little glances you reward him with when you look down have his heart clenching, the pure trust and love in your eyes reinforcing that this is what he was made for, caring for you, pleasing you, loving you-

“want another, please,” comes from your lips, your eyes gleaming with determination, with the need to be able to take his length, have him obeying instantly.

he gently adds a third finger, only his tongue moving against your clit until you nod and tug his hair, signaling he can move his hand again, his fingers resuming molding your walls apart with each steady thrust. your eyes widen in surprise, a breathy whine slipping from you when his fingers brush against a special spot inside you that has you seeing stars. 

he raises his eyebrows, his baby blues sparking when you stutter a “t-there, kö- right there” between your moans. 

“of course, schatzi- anything for you- so good, liebe,” his praises sprinkled between insistent sucks to your clit work in tandem with the delicious strokes of his fingers against that sweet spot have your back arching off the bed, reduced to a melted mess, moans of his name slipping from your lips like a chant.

könig could spend the entire rest of his life just like this, hearing you moan his name, watching you use his mouth and fingers, your hips bucking to meet his movements, to get more of his touch, but the need to have you cum all over his face wins out, and he doubles his efforts, groaning at the way you tremble on his bed, a squeaked “i’m gonna cum, kö!” making his mind white out. 

his mouth latches to your pussy, greedily licking up every drop of your nectar as you soak his chin and fingers with your release, the vibration of his groans only prolonging your high. you might have actually seen the light for a minute there, your vision slowly unblurring as you finally open your eyes, whining as you look down at könig practically making out with your pussy, his baby blues rolling back as he licks at your entrance. you release your tight grip on his hair, only to have to tug it again when your breathless whisper of his name falls on deaf ears. he blushes as he reluctantly pulls away from your sensitive pussy, blinking up at you like his mind is buffering. 

the minute you hold your arms out, he’s crawling back up, a little surprised sound leaving him when you tug him in for a kiss again, more panting than anything as the two of you catch your breath, the taste of yourself on his tongue adding fuel to the still simmering desire in your very core. 

“that was amazing, kö,” you laugh breathlessly, gently wiping könig’s face dry as he rests his forehead against yours. 

“you are amazing, schatzi,” he corrects you, pressing another soft kiss to your lips, you pulling back when you feel his hard length brush against your thigh. 

“here, let me-”

he shudders at your delicate touch to his length, his cock twitching in the air as he hovers over you

“liebe, that can wait, rest more-”

you grin at the strangled groan that leaves him when you wrap your soft hand around his length, his eyes rolling back slightly. 

“what was that, kö?” you ask teasingly, your heart clenching at the little whine he replies to you with as he bucks into your touch. 

his precum aids your movements, beads of it slicking his tip as you smear it over his skin. you’re marveling at the heavy warmth that is his length, your fingers feeling out the difference between the thin skin sheathing is cock versus the taut, slippery skin that is his tip, so focused on your exploration you gasp when he suddenly flips the two of you, you now seated on his lap as he leans against his headboard. 

“i’m sorry, schatzi, but i was worried i might smush you,” he bashfully explains, even the tips of his ears pink as he takes in the sight of you on his lap, your pretty hand looking so out of place around his length. he’s always considered it a brutish thing like the rest of him, so big and long, practically bending under its own weight, but the way you look at it, pure want on your face, makes him feel like the luckiest man in the universe. 

könig did say to be upfront about your needs, so-

“can i put it in? please?” you ask softly, biting your lip as you try to wrap your fingers around the girth of his length, your pussy clenching when you see how your fingers don’t meet. 

“of course, schatzi,” he rewards you with a soft kiss, pure reverence in the way he cups your face as if he’d be more than happy just staying like this forever. könig pulls away after a moment, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as you scoot forward on his lap to press your pussy against his hard cock. “it’s yours, all yours, just go slow-” 

you gasp at the same time he groans, his hands shooting to your hips to hold you steady as you tremble from your hasty attempt to sink down on his length. need made you a touch too overeager, so desperate to feel him inside. 

“careful, liebe!” könig gently warns, rubbing soothing circles on your hips with his thumbs, the sensation giving you something else to focus on other than the stretch. “we’ll go slow, okay? i don’t want you getting hurt.” 

you nod quickly, laughing softly at the way you really thought you could take it that easily. 

“sounds like a plan”. you rest your hands on his shoulders, his own holding your hips steady and stopping you from accidentally taking more before you’re ready. “that’s just the tip, isn’t it?” you ask, your voice tight with awe and wonder.

könig can’t help the little smirk that forms on his face as you look up at him when he nods. you curse under your breath, biting your lip as your entrance clenches around the bulbous tip of his thick cock.

“promise you won’t push yourself too far, schatzi,” he says, looking at you expectantly. only once you promise does he relax his arms to free you to sink further down, taking a couple inches more, your breathy moan making him grit his teeth to keep his hips from bucking up. 

it’s slow moving for a moment, something könig is thankful for because it gives him time to exercise his self control, using all the mental exercises he knows to simply admire the way your pulse almost imperceptibly jumps at the base of your neck, the way your breathing steadies after each inch you take, his eyes lingering on the sight of your delicate fingers working your clit after he instructed you to, each little tremble of your body making his heart clench as he helps you hold steady to adjust, cooing an endless stream of praises and sweet nothings at you. 

each “that’s my girl”, “so brave, schatzi”, and “that’s it, almost there, liebe” honeys your ears so wonderfully you’re not surprised at the way your slick drips down his length, easing the stretch until you’re little gasps turn to moans of pleasure, your eyes fluttering as you take yet another inch- your hips finally pressed against his. your fingers slip from your clit down to where you’re joined, feeling how little of him is left outside you. 

“i did it!” you gasp, your eyes sparkling as you look up at him. 

könig looks like he’s trying to keep from passing out, in a good way, but he grins, giving your hips a little squeeze as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “told you you’re amazing, schatzi,” before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

how people don’t go mad from this, from having someone so close you practically become one, is a mystery to you. the mere thought of going back to being empty has you clenching around his length, and you eagerly swallow his groans when you experimentally roll your hips and nip at könig’s bottom lip at the same time, digging your nails into his shoulders as he shudders. 

“shieße, liebling” his broken moans are music to your ears when you finally pull apart, panting softly as he helps you rise until just the tip of his cock is inside you, before you oh so slowly sink back down, his length nestling inside you, making a home for itself, your walls eagerly welcoming it. 

könig absentmindedly wonders if he’s actually dreaming, if he’s been dreaming since before he met you or hallucinated you whilst in some coma, but the way you moan and clench around his length when he cups one of your tits with his rough hand is clearly real, as is the blush that tints your face as you realize you were a bit too loud there, but the rest of the world can fall away for all he cares. “you sound like an angel, liebe” he groans against your tits before taking one into his mouth, sucking eagerly, making you whimper even louder.

your moaned “harder”, and the way your nails dig into his shoulders, is like an activation code for him, his grip on your hips tightening. he pulls off your nipple with a wet pop, the slick skin prickling in the cool air of the room. before he can even verbalize the question, you’re nodding, lifting off his cock and sinking down quicker than before, showing him you can take it. 

the two of you set a steady rhythm, könig helping you lift up before bringing you back down effortlessly, both because of his strength, and because of how wet you are. you’d blush at the wet, lewd noises filling the room, but that’s the last thing on your mind with the absolute masterpiece in front of you. the way his jaw tenses as he groans each time you sink down, the way his eyes flutter when you clench around his length, even the way the muscles in his arm shift as he bounces you on his cock has you moaning louder. you have half a mind to be worried about becoming addicted to this, but then his tip hits that special spot inside you, and suddenly nothing matters but feeling that again and again. 

könig praises you for each bounce, telling you you’re being so good, so strong, even though he’s the one doing most of the work now, but he doesn’t mind one bit. not when you’re making such pretty noises for him, when you’re looking at him with that fuzzy, dazed expression as you tremble in his hold, when you moan his name louder as his length finds your sweet spot. 

“there, schatzi? does that feel good?” he asks softly, pride in his tone at being able to make you moan like that. he doesn’t let up one bit, purposely angling his hips so his tip relentlessly hits that spot, enjoying the way you answer in a string of “yes”s and “don’t stop”s, as if that thought would ever even cross his mind- 

if cumming on his fingers and tongue felt good, this is going to be a whole other level. you bite your lip, practically slumping forward against him as your pussy spasms around his cock, every fibre of your being narrowing down to that intense building pleasure in your belly, the flames now a wild blaze. könig coos at you, helping you support yourself so he can see the way your pretty face twists with pleasure with each of his insistent thrusts.

“are you going to cum, liebe? you want to cum on my cock?” he asks, his own breath hitching with each flutter of your walls around him. 

“please- i’m gonna-” you cut yourself off with a loud moan of his name, your eyes rolling back in your head as you cum all over his length. your mind has gone static, pure white pleasure blinding you as your juices drip down könig’s cock, his groaned praises reaching your ears as if from a great distance, but he’s got you, just like always, gently moving you up and down his length, prolonging your orgasm as you slowly come down. you blink up at him in a daze, your body trembling as you’re now fully slumped against his chest, könig smiling so lovingly at you. 

“that was beautiful, schatzi, thank you” he murmurs softly, pressing soft little kisses to your sticky temple, his tone reverent. “thank you.”

well he did say bringing you pleasure was a privilege, but- “what about you, kö?” you ask softly, shifting your hips to feel his still very hard cock twitch inside you. you sit up, blushing at the squelch of your juices around his cock, and his hands instantly go to support your still trembling body. 

“i’ll take care of it later, liebe, just lay back down-” he gaps a little as you roll your hips, his cock twitching inside your tight heat. 

“let me make you feel good too. i want to,” you add that last bit on at the same time he went to say something, cutting off his selflessness at the root, your heart clenching at the way he looks at you, like he quite can’t believe you’re really there, really wanting him like this. it’s that thought that reinvigorates you, and you decide to prove it to him, getting back into the rhythm of bouncing on his length, his groans making your still sensitive walls flutter around him. 

“you are always so sweet, so good to me, kö, but you have to understand that i want to do the same for you, okay? will you let me do that?” you say softly, grinding down on his cock to punctuate your words. 

you take his strained whine and the way his length pulses inside you as a yes, his grip on your hips tightening. you place your hands over his, giving him the go-ahead to go faster, to tell him you want him to use you as he lets you use him, and he obliges instantly, ever obedient just for you. you moan as he picks up the pace, his fingers digging into your hips as he holds you up just enough for him to thrust up into your fluttering pussy. you didn’t bargain for another orgasm so quickly, but you can feel that familiar pressure building again, könig’s babbled “thank you”s and “so good”s only fanning that flame. 

your nails dig into his shoulders again as he thrusts up into you relentlessly, your back arching at the way his length has practically molded your walls to the shape of him. you nuzzle into könig’s neck, panting softly as your tits smush up against his chest. his hands shift to grip your ass, using it as leverage to keep up the delicious pace, tightening their grip on your skin when you whisper in his ear. 

“kö, i’m gonna cum again-” 

his pace falters, a strained moan leaving him as he responds “ah, schatzi, i don’t think i can- sheiße- don’t think i can hold it”

it takes your pleasure-addled mind a second to catch up, to turn over what he’s saying before you realize his concern, your breath hitching as he gives a particularly hard thrust up into you. 

“i’m on the pill- it’s okay, you can-” 

in an instant he’s groaning into your hair, thrusting up into you at a pace that makes your very toes curl. 

könig’s moaned “cum for me, liebe,” is all it takes before you’re making a bigger mess on his length, your slick dripping down his length as he spills inside you with a strained shout of your name. 

you two cling to each other, könig’s big hand soothingly rubbing circles on your back as your walls milk his length. you fully lay on his chest now, könig having slumped down the bed when he came, and you stay like this, both panting softly as you come down from your highs with his length slowly softening inside you. you rest your chin on his chest, smiling up at him before placing a little kiss over that same scar on his heart, and he gently cups your face, looking at you like you’ve hung the very stars in the sky. 

könig speaks first, a light blush coloring his cheeks. “i love you, schatzi,” he murmurs as his thumb gently strokes the apple of your cheek, your own face heating in response to the sincerity in his voice, his words burrowing their way right to your heart. there isn’t an ounce of expectation on his face, as if he’d be perfectly content just letting his words slowly settle over the two of you like a warm blanket, but you also must speak your mind. 

“i love you, too, könig. this has been the best day of my life,” you respond with a soft smile, your heart clenching as you wish you could stay like this forever, just you and him, just this quiet love and fullness, and you tell him as much. 

“we’ll stay like this as long as you’d like; we’ll be like this anytime you want.” könig promises, bringing your hand to his mouth and pressing soft kisses to each of your fingers. 

“anytime?” you laugh softly, playfully raising an eyebrow at him. “that’s a big promise, kö”.

“i mean it. your wishes are my commands, liebe,” könig says solemnly, but the way a smile tugs at his lips betrays him, as does the way his length twitches to attention inside you in response to the way your walls clenched around him at the thought.   

you spend the rest of the day exchanging kisses, sappy smiles, and “i love you”s like you have all the time in the world, because you do. now that könig has found you, now that you’ve said you want him, he’s never letting go. he makes a silent vow, pressing his words into your skin with each soft kiss. he’ll be yours forever and always, and even after that. 

the end.

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

taglist <3: @practicalgauntlet @captain-ofmusic @darkangel4121 @laduenadelswing @galactict3a @nexthyperfix @distinguishedprincesstrash @an0nym0u5au7h0r @venuzdaugther

[theladybrownstarot]

VAMPTAROT SCAM

Well , I would first thank @vamptarotscam to bring this matter in the light of other audience here , making them aware about the money scam that has been acted upon by @vamptarot through guilttraps . I remember the reader as someone I found genuine through the reading . I was skeptical about saying anything on this after I saw her suicide post but as reader who has voiced a few times for others I didn't feel this as a right thing to not share my views or voice for it ..

I'm sorry for those who invested their money to get a reading from them but never got them back , I pray that they get the justice they deserve .

Personally, I have few people I already know are scammers as readers but I didn't exposed them just because few people told me that there's no point since this is gonna happen many times well hilariously or sadly whatever , the scammer themselves said this , "what will you do ? It's gonna happen anyways so better be shut than seeking attention" and I fell for it but I won't now at all after introspecting again deeply.

To @vamptarot : I have no intention to be rude to you , comment you down or Say anything because I don't know what's going with you personally but at same I cannot ignore what people are going through . It's matter of fact that my saying won't change anything till the person changes themselves so please change yourself and work for it . If you are so supporting yourself with reasons than why not actually show us the evidence than arguing back ? But at Same time it won't change the money scam that you did intentionally or unintentionally depending personally on you.

I'm keeping my perception balanced here , mediocrity but more towards in support of those who you have scammed up . You have broken the trust of many people here so you have bit of conscience left than please act upon it than saying anything..

To @vamptarotscam : I have seen your posts but I stumbled on one of them where you mentioned that those who were just silent and watched are just after money. Personally this is quite biased and wrong . We have our own share of experiences and opinions that we keep to ourselves or interact only within the blog ..we have priorities no doubt but we have also our personal reasons that we not reveal because people finger out saying, "you are seeking attention" at same time humble and genuine readers like me open our arms to those who suffered or are seeking help . If someone is not comfortable than they are not and if someone is than they are - it depends personally on them and we cannot force them because it won't make anything different , it's comes from inside .You have your views and we have ours so solely based on your side you cannot judge us on that we are potentional scammers or only after money.

Many of us don't directly interact on posts but go there talking it out personally. Some of us just reblog / like and some of us actually make post or comment down or vis-a-vis. Everyone has their own way to be accountable exception to other cases which varies personally to everyone.

So, please I respect your role in exposing and voicing up but I do not support this belief fully on the whole point .

Simply here I'm not supporting any particular person , I'm supporting to those who have suffered or are suffering from any side in general or personally.

[knnichs]

ㅤruler of my heartㅤ a furina x reader fake dating au

t. not proofread, possibly ooc furina, set on a semi-modern fontaine, furina is NOT the archon, scara being a hater, wc. 3.3k

taglist. @aellesira @radiantdanvers @readerzz @randompassersby @romyoia @angeliteeyes -> ENTER THE TAGLIST HERE

series masterpost header art credits

author notes at the end!

ii. smooth sailing

It’s been three days since you’ve signed the contract with your director and your coworker. Three days where you had second guessed every decision leading up to now. It seems like your director was right about this whole stunt after all, everyone's attention was on the film and the two of you now. It’s unsettling to feel like the entire world has eyes on you, but there was a feeling in you that prided in the fact you’ve made it this far, you only had to worry about your co-worker playing the part.

In all truthfulness, though, Furina was not a bad actor–far from it, actually. WIth a seemingly snap of a finger, she was able to completely shift her personality to another, as if it was lightwork. You’ve admired her talent for as long as you could remember–but it leaves a bitter taste on your tongue, knowing that despite all your hard work, it was truly nothing compared to someone with a natural ability.

She had texted you not long ago. Yesterday, 6 pm, and now, 3 pm, reminding you to dress up for this pretend-first-date she had taken the honor to set up.

And now there you were, standing awkward infront of some cafe with a name too confusing to pronounce, it seemed to be popular with how many people were sitting in it. Warm golden lights seeped through hand-painted windows–this was the type of place you’d see when looking for stock images of cafes. 

An intense smell of roasted coffee beans would greet you once you even step one foot inside, and you quickly look for your date so you wouldn’t seem like an idiot standing by the entrance. 

Furina was already posing dramatically for nonexistent cameras, legs crossed while elegantly sitting on the chair. 

“Well?” She said, mocking impatience. “Are you going to sit down or what?”

You could only roll your eyes at her, pulling the chair back and settling in the booth seat.

 It didn’t take too long before some people started staring at the two of you–hushed whispers as they brought out their phones to take pictures. Why is THE Furina out on a date?

The silence was deafening. It didn’t even seem like you two were on a date, it was awkward, every time you tried to speak you’d hesitate and your hands would start to shake. You’re used to having a spotlight on you on set, never in public. This was your first time getting in a film for the festival and you didn’t even know it would get this big. 

Not for the all-talented Furina, though. Apparently not. Because she just had to clear her throat, cross her arms, before beginning to fit into the role given to her immediately. 

“Well… I’m getting a slice of lemon chiffon cake! It’s the most photogenic–it’ll look good on my feed, exactly matching the look of this place. Oh, and it’s tasty too. Naturally, it’s cake!”

You raise an eyebrow at her comment, “Did you just pick the place based on aesthetics?”

“Obviously. If we’re gonna be seen, we must be seen in the best light possible. It’s gonna be horrible if we’re unflattering, might as well play the part till the end, yes?”

“Thats…” 

Oh, it was certainly something. Not once in your lifetime would you think you’d ever see Furina actually take this whole thing seriously. Maybe it’s because she’s effortlessly flawless–ever since you’ve started your acting career, you felt as if you had to play as someone perfect all the time, even if there were no cameras and flashes filling your entire vision. Even if you were in the privacy of your apartment. It was ridiculous enough that you couldn’t help but laugh–that small interaction was enough to ease the tension you were feeling.

You had called over a waitress and finished placing your orders. You two sat opposite of each other, the table was small enough that your knees almost bumped. All while waiting for your food to arrive, Furina insisted on taking several pictures. She pulls out her phone, angling it just so to capture a candid-looking selfie, head tilted, a small smile curving her lips.

“You should lean in,” She whispered without looking up at you at all. “It’ll look absolutely adorable.”

And so you did, not without hesitating for half a second, forcing a pitiful smile. The phone clicked, Furina stared at the photo critically, then hummed in satisfaction.

“Perfect!” She declared, “Authenticity achieved. You’re a natural at this.”

The photoshoot didn’t end there, unfortunately. You were forced to take a few photos of her, and she took three of you. You questioned her, why do we need to be taking photos of each other? 

All she did was give you a giggle and reply with, “it’s for documentation purposes, you wouldn’t get it.”

For a few moments, you two sat in the busyness of the cafe, sun pooling in puddles on the floor–it reached her, almost like a halo clinging to the edges of her figure, the murmur of other conversations hushing yours, almost as if what you two were sharing was a private moment when in reality, it was far from it.

Furina rested her chin on her hand, studying you with bright, questioning eyes. It wasn’t the look of her usual self, scheming and plotting something that could potentially bring all attention to the two of you. It was… curiosity. As if she was almost interested in you, a genuine way that made you feel a little uneasy.

“You’re stiff,” She said bluntly.

You blink, a little taken aback by the sudden insult. “I’m trying to be normal.”

“That’s the problem! You’re trying, you must be effortless, natural!”

“I don’t think being effortless is a skill you can just summon on command.” You shook your head, crossing your arms and giving her a look.

Furina giggled, not the usual theatrical act, but a smaller, real laugh that caught you off guard. And before you could reply–your orders had already arrived. Two delicate plates painted to perfection, almost as if carved with actual gold with the amount of skill poured into it. Both slices of cake looked too pretty to eat, it almost made you feel guilty if you ruined it.

Furina wasted no time, however, snapping a quick picture before using a fork and diving into the lemon chiffon, sighing dramatically. “Absolute heaven,” She leaned across the table, taking another forkful of the cake and putting it right infront of you. “You must try.”

“What?”

“Try it!” She waves the fork, “Open up, come on, it’s just a bite.”

This is how rumors start, a few stolen photos, exchanged words from fan to fan–there was that feeling in you that this was wrong, you forget that you were simply on a pretend date. 

Odd. It’s almost as if you’ve completely forgotten you actually had the contract for a second.

“I suppose a single bite won't hurt anyone.”

It was light and sweet. The perfect balance of sweetness and sourness–vanilla and the taste of lemon clashed, but in a pleasing way. Furina grinned at your reaction.

“See?” She nudges you, “You can be charming when you try.”

You wipe your mouth with a clean napkin, “Stop being all smug—And yes, I am quite charming.”

“Ugh, whatever.” 

Sure, people were giving weird looks, but that was the point in the end. To gather enough attention for the film, be it scandal or not. Your moment with Furina put your guard down, you hadn’t noticed that people were already snapping pictures of the two of you. Phones peeking over a booth across the room, or barely-hidden glances by two teenagers whispering. It didn’t take long until blurry photos surfaced online.

Mission success, you think to yourself.

The sun was nearly set by the time you two went out of the cafe, the sky shifting to a soft, glowing purple and yellow. Streets were spilled with the light from the lamps, the air cold and thin. 

“I think this first date went well,” You say, not particularly to anyone, but Furina seems to notice. 

She hummed in agreement, letting herself breathe in the fresh air after being stuck in the cafe for so long. “Two days from now again, then? I got tickets to an aquarium showcase nearby.”

“Sure.” 

Maybe it was going well, maybe not. But for the first time, it didn’t feel like you two were pretending at all. There comes the price of being a great actor, you suppose. You’re not quite sure what's real or fake when you’re around someone as great as Furina–she could just be pretending, much like you, but what if it was real all along? 

What if. 

But there's no need to bother yourself with such distracting thoughts. There are things you need to focus on–the film, more pretend dates, you need to keep your act up at least until the festival. That is roughly… Two weeks from now.

Two weeks, you’re sure you can handle that atleast.

The wind tugged lightly at your leather coat as you leaned against the railing, just by the entrance of the aquarium Furina suggested you two go to. It was across the plaza, the glass making it seem as if it was glinting in the late afternoon sun. A large banner saying “DATE NIGHT: 50% OFF!” flapped noisily above you.

No wonder Furina got those tickets.

Speak of the devil. She was running towards  you, huffing, pure disappointment on her face–clearly unimpressed by her unprofessionalism. She had shown up fifteen minutes late–though she begs to differ, saying she was fashionably late, immediately launching to a dramatic retelling of how her hair refused to cooperate and how her original outfit suddenly disappeared into the comfort of her own mattress. 

She leaned beside you with arms crossed, chin tilted up like she was trying to intimidate the building. “Alright, we need a game plan.”

“For an… aquarium?”

“For our date,” She said, gesturing air quotes. “We can’t just walk in there like clueless idiots. There has to be moments, photo worthy angles, do you get what I mean?”

You shook your head once more, “No, not really. Did you want to storyboard this? Is that why you were late?”

“Just…! No–No I didn’t storyboard.” She huffed as if she was anything less than offended by what you said. “I’m improvising, like a true actress. But even improv needs structure.” 

Furina took out her phone and flipped the camera, her palm reaching to bounce her curls to fix them or something. “You’ll be on my left,” She added absentmindedly. “That’s your better side.”

“Excuse me? Are you saying I’m ugly on the other side?”

“Precisely.”

“Rude.”

“That I am not! Just telling the truth. Are we going to get in or not?” 

There was a flicker of something behind her eyes–a kind of nervous excitement she wasn’t quite able to hide behind the dramatics. She was trying, in her own way, atleast. Maybe not just for the cameras. 

You let a beat of silence pass before speaking up, “You know, we could just… Have fun. Be normal. See some fish?”

Yet she still looked at you like you’ve suggested committing treason. “Did you forget we’re doing this for PR?”

“It’s easier to fake a relationship when you don’t plan every interaction like it’s a play. Trust me, go along with it.”

Her mouth opened, ready to go talk back–but then, surprisingly, she quieted down. “Fine,” Finally slipping her phone into her bag. “Let’s do it your way.”

You offered your arm, “Shall we, your majesty?

She stared at your outstretched elbow, deadpan, scoffing when she pushed you slightly. “Never. Say that again.”

The inside of the aquarium was a hush of blue tinted light and soft murmurs, the soft whirring of the machine that clears the inside of the tanks. It smelled faintly of saltwater, obviously, you two were at an aquarium. The light would flicker from time to time-mostly due to the huge fish blocking it above you. You passed under an archway, casting rippling shadows over your face as if the building itself had sunk to the ocean floor.

The deeper you went in the showcase, the dimmer it got. The tank glowed at that point–schools of silver fish, a sea turtle drifting from time to time, its shadow vast against the wall. Furina’s earlier dramatic theatrics died down. She was uncharacteristically quiet, simply because of the awe present in her expression. She stopped posing for invisible cameras. You stopped watching for them.

There was a large viewing tunnel that dipped beneath the shark tank, Furina walked a little ahead of you, a bounce in her step you couldn’t ignore no matter how hard you tried. She looked up to follow the path of a hammerhead gliding overhead.

“Think they can see us?” She asked, whispering, she might've seen the signs to keep quiet.

“Maybe. What, you scared?”

“Ha! Far from it!” 

“Shh, not so loud.” 

A gentle lull settled between you, the sort of silence that wasn’t exactly awkward. It was comfortable. You two went from one tank to the next, the sound of muffled waves overtaking the sound of your own breathing. It was comfortably silent in the aquarium. 

Then, you found a reef tank.

It was massive–floor to ceiling, golden light that mimicked sunbeams through real water. Bright corals, you could’ve sworn there were some clownfish peeking out, sea anemones swayed with grace by the currents. The two of you stood in front of it, closer now without realizing at all, if it weren't feeling your hands brushing across her knuckles–you wouldn’t even think about getting too close to her.

She didn’t seem to mind, though. You were the one who stepped away, she was all too in awe of the fish. Seems like she was more interested in it than you, after all. You need to remind yourself that your relationship is fake, a PR stunt that your director thought of. Might as well make this trip worthwhile, so you try to speak up.

“Look,” You murmured, pointing to a tiny, almost transparent shrimp hidden behind two corals. “It’s a little shrimp. You can barely see it.”

You turned to Furina, trying to see if you caught her attention with that. Her gaze wasn’t on the tank.

It was at you. 

She looked at you with reason. It wasn’t a blank or distracted gaze, her eyes followed your every movement, the way you blinked, maybe the slow rise of your chest, or the way the light hit your face. Her eyes were wide, unguarded, you could almost see inside her very soul. You caught it just long enough to recognize it before she had blinked, panicked, and snapped her attention back to the tank. 

“What is it?” You asked, carefully.

Furina cleared her throat sharply, almost as if she were the one sulking. “Nothing. You had something on your face, that's all.” She gestured vaguely towards your cheek, fingers fluttering like an afterthought. Not once did she glance your way . “Lint. Crumbs. I don't know.”

You wiped your face, skeptical of her reason. “Really?”

She turned to look at you quickly, nodding too fast to be normal. “Yeah–yeah, it’s gone now.”

The fishes continued to swim in front of you, there was even a turtle waving by your peripheral, but you paid no mind. You chose to look at her for a moment longer, not saying anything. She didn’t try to meet your eyes again, instead, she fiddled with a loose thread on her sleeve. A ghost of a smile present on her lips.

“I see,” You say finally.

There was no lint, or crumb. But you didn’t push the topic further.

Instead you turned back to the tank, letting the silence guide the two of you again–but this time, it felt like it changed, there were unspoken words that none of you decided to say. Like something had shifted, and not a single one tried to think about what to do about it.

“Tell me something,” Furina said suddenly, her voice quiet.

You tilt your head, looking at her once more–she still hasn’t gathered the courage to stare back. “What kind of something?”

“Anything. About you–not something in your ‘press kit.’”

You paused, a little surprised by the question. “I used to sneak out of school to sit by the riverbank. Just to listen to the water. Pretend I was anywhere else.”

“That’s so lonely. Were you a loser back then?” Furina smiled, she tried to play off her question in order not to raise suspicions.

“It was peaceful. I didn’t mind.”

She regretted her previous comment, choosing to stay silent before talking. 

“I used to lie about being afraid of the dark so someone could stay with me. A–as a kid, of course, but that wasn’t because I was scared, I just didn’t want to be alone. Neuvillette, my friend, would often accompany me.”

“That’s not lonely?” You asked gently. This was when you realized exactly that you really didn’t know the first thing about your co-actor, behind the staged expressions, there really was something human behind it all. Even though you yourself were an actor, you couldn’t believe that someone like Furina… You shook your head before the thought continued.

She shrugged, “It’s different when you choose to do it.”

“Fair enough. You know, I used to get in trouble for sneaking out. My teachers would always message my parents, "I'd get quite an earful at home.”

She laughs softly, genuine. “Yeah?”

You hum, “Yeah. There was this one time I–”

A soft buzz lit up both your phones at the same time. Simultaneous vibrations, the pings suddenly multiplying like crazy. So, you both reached for your pockets.

There it was, a new tweet from your director’s official account.

Furina grumbled, a noise coming from the back of her throat. “She did not.”

“Oh, she did,” You say, showing her your phone screen.

“Ugh,” She groaned, rolling her head. “She’s going to start printing hoodies next. I just knew this was gonna happen–I should’ve never agreed!”

But her tone wasn’t exactly annoyed. She was already typing something back, a long message to your director and to the tweet. You watched her, not just her practiced scowl, but the little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

As if the idea of more time together wasn’t quite the worst thing in the world.

Maybe it wasn’t.

You two stepped outside of the aquarium after what felt like forever. The air was colder, the night wrapped around you like a blanket. The city streets gleaming with neon signs. You pause by the exit, unsure if the evening has been a success or just an elaborate act you two put up. Still, the soft glow from the signs above makes it feel like a scene from a film–one that you and Furina are just playing out, even if no cameras were there, as cliche as it sounded.

Furina pulls out her phone, a mischievous grin on her lips. “I think it’s time for a photo. We can’t leave this place without the proof.”

“Whatever,” You waved her off.

Though, you still agree. Even if you’re getting used to how natural this whole “date for the PR” thing felt despite it all being fake. Furina walks up to a passerby, flashing a smile that has a certain calculation behind it–practiced, she’s learned how to perform even in these moments.

With a small flash, the photo was taken. The stranger hands the phone back, and Furina looks a little disgusted by the angle.

“This is not good. How exactly am I gonna post this?” 

“You won't die with one bad photo.”

“I–You–Fine! Don’t blame me if we start getting backlash because of this… This.. Poor excuse for a picture.”

@ knnichs 2023 ﹑ do not repost, republish, translate, feed to ai or modify any of my works. doing so can and will result into me blocking you.

reblogs with comments are INCREDIBLY appreciated! go scream go feral idc i will eat all of them up and run away with a familiarly shaped reblog in my mouth, thank you.

GUYS IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG UM?????? i highkey lost motivation but we ball i was supposed to put gurt in this fic but i couldnt find a proper situation to put him in......... anyway !! yay... downfall is next chapter .. thats where real angst starts ........... the taglist is still open for anyone interested !!!!!!! i am THREE chapters far from finishing this WOOHOOa

[e-squared-what-is-my-life]

From What I've Observed, the ENA Species Cannot Die or be Mortally Wounded

That being said... it's been a while since I've served up some angst in any fandom. Why not see if I've still got it? (Webseries ENA will be ENA, BBQ ENA will be RENA)

It was no secret to anyone that if there was one word to describe the ENA species, it would be "Hated". Most saw ENAs as nothing more than troublemakers with hair trigger tempers or excessively dramatic displays that left most uncomfortable. It was unfair to them, and everyone knew it, but it was easier for the general public to silently agree with this hatred than try to figure out the mysteries that came with the polygonal figures.

Said hatred had eventually become so common that most ENAs found themselves able to ignore it upon hitting a certain age. Sure, they would be hurt by the stereotypes and assumptions as young children, but their lonely teen and young adult years typically hardened them to the aggressive reactions their mere existence earned them. It was a sad existence, one that none of them asked for; some had been so targeted by this hatred that they attempted to do the impossible.

They did anything they could to die.

After years of trying, however, they would eventually come to accept that this was just the cards they were permanently dealt. Did the knowledge hurt? Of course it did, but when you can do nothing to change everyone's minds about you, you learn to just... live with it.

With all of this in mind, RENA stared down at the tiny sapphire blue and ruby red baby ENA that was sleeping in a specially made crib. Claire, the little angel that quite literally came out of nowhere, was one of the few things that kept RENA going. Her girlfriend, a perky yet sensitive ENA and the birth mother of their little girl, was another. Together the three made a (mostly) happy little family, one that kept to themselves more often than not.

Claire didn't deserve to be treated like her mothers, didn't deserve to be heckled and sneered at just because of what she was. It was for this reason that ENA and RENA did all they could to keep Claire's existence relatively secret. Only a select few were allowed to know about her, and even they lived on thin ice when handling the baby.

"Watching over her again, my love?"

RENA smiled at the question, her heart pitter-pattering in a way that would have killed her had she been any other creature. She loved the sound of her beloved's Happy voice, kept the sound close to her heart and cradled it the way she cradled their child.

"Like a hawk." RENA calmly replied, settled comfortably in her Salesperson Face. The side's usual charm and work-based intent was toned down, something that normally happened when both sides were content. "She's sleeping well. Not a single peep."

"Then come to bed, my love. It's late, and you need your rest just as much as she does." ENA cooed, wrapping her arms around RENA with a happy sigh.

"A little hypocritical, coming from the other person wide awake at this ungodly hour, wouldn't you say?" RENA teased, letting her head swivel around owlishly so she could press her face against her girlfriend's in their sweet imitation of a kiss.

"Mmm, I suppose." ENA hummed as they parted, the light blush on her cheeks enough to make RENA practically purr and turn so they could walk to their bedroom together. They stayed silent, yet a peace settled amongst them that was still fairly abnormal. Peace for them was a rarity, and one they were still having trouble comprehending. "Come now, my love. You deserve the rest."

"Funny, those two sentences aren't ones I normally hear together~" RENA chuckled, smirking at ENA's gasp and absolutely scandalized huff. "I'm joking, dear. And I must agree, a night of rest does sound enticing."

ENA nodded, looking as if she'd just won some difficult game. "Glad to see we're in mutual agreement."

RENA opened her mouth to let out another teasing remark, but was stopped by the sound of glass shattering and frightened wailing.

Claire's frightened wailing.

"Love, get to the room." RENA ordered, feeling Meanie practically clawing her way into the open. The final push for her appearance was ENA's frozen stature. "NOW, GODDAMN IT!"

ENA yelped, wanting to both do as told and rush to help her baby. Judging by the look on RENA's face and the increasing urgency, however, ENA decided that listening was the best option. She turned and raced into their shared room, sobbing and opening their closet. She climbed into the small space with frantic breaths, scrambling to find and prep the small handgun RENA had taught her to use in emergencies such as this. The likelihood of it needing to be used was slim, despite their living situation, so neither of them truly expected it to ever be used.

Oh, how glad ENA was that she’d given in to RENA's wishes and taken those shooting lessons.

Loud shouting and sounds of a fight sounded from farther in the house, and while they sounded like they were getting farther from Claire's room, that only meant that the next person the intruders would attempt to off was ENA. With this knowledge, the panicking woman held her gun out, making sure everything was correctly placed and handled should she need to send a bullet into some unsuspecting grunt.

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, YOU BASTARDS!" RENA roared, the sound of gunshots and slicing of blades following her order. ENA heard her grunt a few times, an indication that the intruders managed to get a good hit or two on the soldier. RENA could hold her own, and ENA knew that, but something was bugging her.

Why wasn't Claire crying anymore?

In a moment of maternal instincts and foolish naivety, ENA dropped her gun (something RENA would absolutely yell at her for) and pushed her way out of the closet. She strained her ears to try and see if Claire's crying had just been drowned out by the fighting, and was horrified to learn that her fears were valid. Claire wasn't in her room.

Someone had taken ENA's baby.

A fit of rare rage fueled ENA as she ran out of the room and past the feuding group, ignoring RENA's scream for her to come back. The moment she was outside, ENA looked around frantically, and she contemplated tossing her head in the air to try and get an aerial view of the land. In the end, she didn’t have to do that (thank goodness, it always made her nauseous when she did), as she caught sight of someone running off with a wriggling bundle in their arms.

ENA let out a furious scream, a distorted and disturbing sound that glitched and echoed, stopping the kidnapper in his tracks for long enough for ENA to catch up and pounce on him. The two scrambled for dominance instantly, Claire tossed into a patch of grass and screaming in terror.

"I'LL MAKE YOU PAY FOR TRYING TO TAKE MY DAUGHTER!" ENA screamed, using her detached limbs to her advantage and managing to wrap both hands around the kidnapper's throat. She felt nothing but white hot rage and saw nothing but the struggling man under her as she choked him with all of her might. It wasn’t much, but it kept him pinned and her in enough control. "People like you don’t deserve to live! You don't deserve to die! You deserve every kind of suffering designed!"

Loud choking was what ENA was met with, keeping her focus for much too long.

That is, if the sudden and sharp pain in her back had something to say about it.

A loud cry of despair mixed with ENA's screech of pain. It was almost odd enough to distract her, considering how she hadn’t had a personality glitch in a while, but that thought was banished quickly as the pain spread through her upper body.

This didn't make sense; why was she hurting so much? Why was she suddenly so dizzy? Wasn't she supposed to be practically immune to this sort of pain?

"STUPID, EGOTISTICAL SUNUVA BITCH! I'LL KILL YOU!" RENA's shout was the last thing ENA heard before her vision blurred and eventually went black. It was quiet after that, near silent, save for the harmonious singing that echoed around her.

"Hello?" ENA called, looking around in confusion. "Is an offering required for one's presence in this place? What, exactly, is this place?"

"A place of peace and serenity." A calm voice replied. A large ball of light with wings seemingly encircling it appeared in front of ENA, watching her without eyes. "Fear not, young ENA. Your journey is not yet over. That is, if your lover has anything to say about it. You lot are resilient, something I admire about you. I'd say your species is one of my proudest creations."

"The Great Runas..." ENA gasped, eyes wide as she realized who she was talking to. "Ancient lord of time and wishes, what has brought you here?"

"Why, you, of course." Runas chuckled. "When I heard one of my dear ENAs was on the brink of death, I knew something wasn't right. I came to see what was happening, and I find you with a corrupted blade in your back. Vile things, those are."

"A... corrupted blade?" ENA furrowed her brows in confusion, wondering what this meant for her and her family. With this knowledge, ENA was now more than aware that their assumptions that they couldn't be hurt were far from untrue. "They attempted to assassinate me. My family."

"Indeed." Runas simply replied. "But, worry not. I enjoy seeing your little family peruse these lands. As such, it is in my best interest to let you continue in this life. So go, reunite with your bonded ENA and your darling daughter. Make a show for me I won't ever forget!"

"What? A sh-" ENA was cut off by the sudden feeling of pain, one so intense that she found her eyes flying open and her chest rising and falling rapidly. She looked around, temporarily mute as RENA sobbed and hugged her with as much care as she could muster. "My... My love..."

"Oh, sweet darling. I am so sorry." RENA cried, the Meanie side of her face pulled into a frantic and pained frown. A feat considering it wasn’t the side in charge, but one both weren't necessarily surprised by. "I let you down, I let Claire down- Both of my babies were hurt because I couldn't hold those hellbound monsters back."

ENA gasped, attempting to sit up and groaning as RENA held her in a still (but lovingly comfortable) position. "Claire; she's hurt?"

"It's only a few scrapes and bruises. She seems fine for the most part, otherwise." RENA assured. "And now that you're awake, I need not worry about those heathens any longer."

There was no response to the statement; ENA knew it meant the attackers were either dead or close to it, even without visible or verbal confirmation. In all honesty, that was the last thing on her mind, the first being the knowledge she'd gained in her encounter with her world's creator.

She could finally die.

[and-claudia]

Best of Wives and Best of Women (Joel Miller x Reader) (Season 2)

Hey guys, I had this idea after last week's episode. Just a short lil blurb as I get back into the groove of writing. This is based on the song Best of Wives and Best of Women from Hamilton

Also no actual use of Yn

Word count: 500+

The cold air of January had seeped its way into mine and Joel’s bedroom. Instinctively, I rolled over and tried to snuggle up closer to him, only to find that he wasn’t there. As I sat up, I looked over to the door of the bathroom but saw no light coming from below it, meaning he wasn’t in there. So, with that, I knew he had gotten up to get to his patrol early, too early for my liking. 

I got up and draped a throw blanket over my shoulders to block out some of the chill in the house. When I got to the kitchen, I found Joel with his back to me as he fixed himself a cup of coffee. Slowly, I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around him, still holding the blanket. 

With my face pressed against the space between his shoulder blades, I sighed into his warmth and said, “Joel, come back to sleep.” 

He sighed gently, “I have early patrol.” 

I glanced out the window and saw that the sun hadn’t even dawned. 

“It’s still dark outside,” I argued. 

He set his mug down and carefully turned in my arms to face me, “I know, just wanted to get a head start and clear my head. A lot is happening right now.” He said, and he wasn’t wrong. 

Between what had been reported by other patrols and what Ellie had seen, the infected had everyone on edge. But, despite what he may believe, the weight of it didn’t need to rest solely on his shoulders. 

“Why do you fight like you’re running out of time?” I asked him for probably the millionth time. 

“Shh.” He said gently, hugging me closer. 

“Come back to bed, that would be enough.” I said, hoping to change his mind. 

He smiled slightly at my pleas, clearly finding my sleepiness amusing, “I’ll be back before you know I’m gone.” He countered. 

“Come back to sleep.” I said similarly to how a small child would whine for something they wanted. 

“I have to meet Dina at dawn.” He said I knew there was no winning this battle. 

I sighed and leaned into him a little more before pulling back to look up at him, “Well, I’m going back to sleep.” 

Joel smiled and leaned down to kiss me, “You’re the best of wives and best of women, you know that, right?” He asked with that same faint smile. 

I nodded, “Don’t you forget it.” I teased. 

“I won’t. I gotta get going. Don’t want Dina waiting on me.” He said, and I reluctantly let go. 

I followed him to the front door, “Be safe.” 

“I will.” 

“And don’t forget to come back to me, preferably in one piece and not infected.” 

“I do every time, don’t I?” He said before giving me one last kiss goodbye. 

“I love you, Joel.” 

“Love you too, sweetheart.” He said before leaving. 

I watched him walk down the road for a moment before turning my attention to the butterfly stained glass hanging on the window, “Keep an eye on your dad, Sarah.” I said with a small smile, like I always did when he left for patrol. 

Reluctantly, I went back upstairs and crawled back into bed, wrapping the blanket around me. It took a while but eventually I slipped back into a light sleep and waited for Joel to return. 

I don't have my taglist set up atm I'm sorry!!

[bangpop91]

Happy 217! 💜

bucktommy prompt: sick fic; h/c - one of them has a migraine 🥺

— 💜 @nine-one-wanton

Thank you Jo!!! ❤️💜💙

This prompt feels very appropriate since I'm currently recovering from a migraine. Since I wrote this story last week featuring Tommy with a migraine I hope it's okay where I write a part two of it even though it's not technically the prompt.

217 Followers Celebration

Tommy wakes up a few hours later with his head still in Evan's lap with Evan's fingers running through his hair. Simply put, Tommy feels like shit. The only part of him that doesn't hurt is his scalp which is pleasantly tingly from the way Evan has been running his fingers through his hair and massaging Tommy's scalp even as he slept.

This is the part of his migraines that Tommy hates almost as much as his actual migraines. The only way he has to describe the way he feels is hungover. And he never knows if it's because his migraine has passed or if his body is just resting up for the next awful wave in the cluster.

"How you feeling baby?" Evan asks so softly Tommy doesn't think it could even be classified as a whisper. Tommy flops around, wrapping his arms around Evan's waist, and buries his face in Evan's tummy. And through all of Tommy's graceless flopping around, Evan never stops running his fingers through Tommy's hair, only adjusting so that now he is massaging the base of Tommy's skull in small, soothing circles that make Tommy sigh.

Read the rest below the cut or on AO3

"Hungover." He grumbles, the word muffled by Evan's belly.

"I'm sorry sweetheart." There's silence for a few moments as Evan's strong fingers begin working the tight muscles in his neck. "You should eat so you can take more meds." Evan says softly. Tommy tightens his grip on Evan unapologetically using his boyfriend as a teddy bear.

"Feel like I'm going to puke." Tommy whines. He knows he should eat. He knows it's a terrible idea to take pain meds on an empty stomach. But he is sore all over, he's nauseous, he's feeling whiny, and needy. Tommy is also wildly comfortable using Evan as a combination pillow and stuffed animal, getting his head rubbed, and hair played with. It feels so good that it's enough to distract him from the worst of the pain and nausea.

Tommy doesn't miss Evan's heaving sigh. He frowns tightening his grip even more knowing what is coming next.

"Sweet heart. Let me up. I'm going to make you something to eat." Evan says softly but still more firmly than he has any right too.

"No." Tommy doesn't care that he's being a petulant brat, Evan will love him and take care of him anyways.

"Baby." Evan crooned, still massaging Tommy's neck. "Let me make you Bobby's special chicken noodle soup. You'll feel better after you eat." Tommy turns his face just enough to look up at Evan through one barely open eye. "Doesn't some soup sound good?" Evan cooes, Tommy knows he's being cajoled, but Evan's right soup does sound good. And Bobby's chicken noodles soup sounds even better. So he slowly loosens his grip on Evan like a skittish cat.

He keeps his eye on Evan until he's out of the room and Tommy can hear him moving around in the kitchen.

Tommy knows he won't be able to go back to sleep. At least not for awhile after his, Tommy twists his neck looking at the clock on his nightstand, Jesus christ, four hour nap. His head hurts, but the little bit of light in the room and sounds coming from the kitchen don't make Tommy rip his eyes and ears out. He mumbles for the remote on the night stand turning on the tv. Tommy turns both the brightness and the volume way down before turning on old episodes of Top Gear.

Yes he knows Jeremy Clarkson is the worst sort of problematic asshole and the other two hosts probably aren't any better. But he's seen every episode multiple times, it's mindless and he doesn't have to think. He can just stare at the screen letting the images and sounds roll over him like a gentle wave.

Tommy throws an arm behind himself until he finds the spare pillow that has becomes Evan's. Cuddling with Evan's pillow isn't near as good as cuddling with Evan but it will do for now. Tommy thinks he might have actually managed to doze off towards the end of the episode because he wakes up to Evan gently shaking his shoulder.

"Come on baby. Time to eat." Tommy doesn't need it per say, but he does appreciate Evan helping him sit up and lean back against his sturdy wood headboard. Tommy hadn't realized how shaky all his limbs were until Evan helped him get settled up right.

Evan even fluffed Tommy's pillows behind him and kissing his cheek, then his temple, before finally handing Tommy his bowl of soup. The soup is the perfect temperature. He can tuck into it right away without burning his mouth but still hot enough that it soothes his throat and sinuses.

Evan had been right, of course, Tommy feels marginally better after his first bowl of soup, feeling well enough to have a second helping of soup.

"Thank you for the soup." Tommy says, his voice still soft as he returns to his place laying on Evan's lap once their now empty bowls are deposited onto the nightstand on Evan's side of the bed.

"It's nothing baby." Evan murmured, once again carding his fingers through Tommy's curls. They must look wild and utterly ridiculous. Tommy is sure he must look like a frazzled poodle right now and is thankful Evan hasn't said anything about it.

"It's not nothing." He says wiggling making sure he is as comfortable as possible. "Thank you. For taking care of me." Tommy says his eyes staring at the TV without really watching it.

"Always." Evan says with the kind of honesty and earnestness that Evan could possess. It makes Tommy want to cry, well not really, crying would be a sure fire way to make his bitch ass cluster migraine return with a vengeance. Tommy doesn't want to cry or deal with his roller-coaster of emotions. He wants to wrap himself up in this warm fuzzy feeling of unconditional love and care.

Tommy digs around in the mess of blankets and sheets until he comes back up with the remote pressing it against Evan's chest with a dull thwack.

"Put something else on. Jeremy Clarkson's face is pissing me off." Tommy grumbles making Evan laugh. But Evan, the love of his life, his soul mate, takes the remote and puts on Love Actually.

[theguardianace]

(you)niverse

[ID in ALT]

[anakindoodles]

You trade your friends like guns for hire

(Please click for better quality, i spent so much time on the detail and tumblr is crunchinnggg it *tear*)

[dinoserious]

arc goes on a silly little trip to a dying kingdom on a finding nemo style search for its kid

[hauntingblue]

ARCANE DAY

Episode 4 and 5 in the tags and:

SALO BEING A VIKTOS FOLLOWER??? CRAZY. ALSO BOTH VIKTOR MISSING JAYCE AJDHSKSJ also cait has kinda calmed down... and I am sure she misses vi so I KNOW this is going to happen to her soon.... we aren't getting much of her feelings yet... she's still too onto Jinx to catch up on where ambessa is going...

DID JAYCE JUST KILL SALO??? WHAT HAPPENED IN THERE

Also vander not recognizing vi at first until she gives up fighting.... incredible ALSO vander and silco being miners and vi wearing her gauntlets that were initially thought out for miners.... damn

This is my favourite episode so far....

Episode 6 here:

Sky really being there..... of course she is....

Ambessa training caitlyn.... of course thats her new daughter akdjskms Tunnels in your eyes.... GIRL!!!!!!! THAT'S WHAT YOU DON'T NEED RIGHT NOW also the guy outside is a mage... ambessa is such a hypocrite

Vi and Jinx vs ambessa and cait.... this was always about class war don't get it twisted SINGED!!! TRAITOR!!!!

ARE THEY GOING TO SEE VIKTOR???? I looove how viktors touch on their faces leave "scars" so recognizable

Did isha just take the gem from vi's gauntlets??? Omg I wasn't expecting viktor to build a hippie commune to be honest omg he looks so good.... with the blonde underhairs.... and I do believe that's the same blanket....

And of course viktor knows who vander is.... nvm he diesnt know omg viktor asking for Powder.....

We are getting viktor horsegirl montage.... omg the vander momtage I can't..... omg they wanna stay.... singed is gonna fuck all this up NOOOOO 😭😭😭 they are already there I am going to kms

CAITLYN STOP THIS MADESSS!!! ✋️ CAITLYN!!!!! VI KILL THIS MAN!!! OMG CAITLYN...... mongoose... yeah.... and fuck you too.... CUPCAKE!!!! ABOUT TIME!!!! CAITLYN I SAID STOP THIS MADNESS WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!!! And jayce too 😭😭😭 we're never making it out of the fissures

It's such a shame the spit on here won't work like on challengers.... one can only pray I guess

Jinx experiencing the "there's nothing more undoing as a daughter" moment.... incredible

"Your absence provided a vacuum I was able to fill" TO VI???? I KNEW THAT HAND HOLDING IN THE COMMANDER SCENE WAS SUS AKDHKASJ maddie exists and ambessa knows that and still.... it was not filling her mother's void...

YES CAITLYN!!! YES!!!!! VI is so hot I am distracted... ambessa was right.... now what the fuck will jayce fuck up??? Thats the question... NOT ANOTHER CHILD!!! jayce is a menace... the guys smiling at jayce are viktor... maybe the child even....

JINX KILL THAT MAN!!! NVM VANDER KILL THAT MAN!!! JAYCE YOU FUCKING MORON!!!!! JAYCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE WHEN I GET YOU JAAAYCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Isha what are you going to do omg 😭😭 did she kill vander... another powder... my god another week...

That was such a good fucking episode too.... and caitlyn didn't go insane when finding Jinx that is a step forwards but viktor can't be dead... no fucking way... he was giving himself away for the people and he was going to finally die by saving vander and look at what we got... no wonder viktor hates his guts. Jayce you were so good in act one.... what happened..... alright. Christ.... another week....

[squishosaur]

jameow vipurr :3

yes, i think so 👍