#and that was all well and good but then i needed to fight him with a normal champion and i was SURELY going to take multiple attempts

[itadorey]

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐒— bakugo katsuki

pairing: pro hero bakugo katsuki x gn reader summary: when aizawa calls and asks for a personal favor, bakugo is ready to expect the worst. genre: strangers to lovers, fluff word count: ~7k warnings: mentions of stalking, nothing happens, you take care of it notes: sorry if he's ooc, take this more as a character study. just a little test to see how i feel when writing for bakugo. description of quirk left super vague, literally just a mention of it being helpful. not proofread sorry ummm rushed too

When Bakugo Katsuki gets a call from Aizawa, he doesn't know what to expect.

There's a brief moment of silence when the call connects, and Bakugo feels himself tense slightly when Aizawa does not speak immediately. He's the first to give in, gruffly greeting his former teacher and being met with nothing but a sigh in return.

"Bakugo," Aizawa starts, his tone dull and tired. "I'm sorry to ask this of you, but i need you to do me a personal favor."

Another moment of silence ensues as Bakugo processes his request. He knows he can say no, but there's something about the fact that Aizawa— the man who has been through everything with him and his former classmates, fought with them and for them, and stood up for him when he was kidnapped by the League of Villains—personally calling and asking him that makes him hesitate before answering.

"Fine," he finally says, already thinking about how he's gonna tell Shitty Hair— Kirishima! he hears Mina correcting him in his head— that he might be out of commission for a few days. "What do you need me to do."

"Just show up when I tell you to," Aizawa says in response. "Maintain a high level of secrecy. Don't tell anyone where you're going. I'll send you the address. See you soon."

Aizawa hangs up before Bakugo can respond, and he mutters a series of curse words under his breath before tossing his phone into his duffel bag and leaving for his agency.

Three days later, Aizawa sends him an encrypted text.

Aizawa's text leads Bakugo to a fancy looking apartment complex close to Izuku's agency. When he knocks on the door of the apartment number provided, he's met with none other than Izuku himself.

"What are you doing here, you fucking nerd?" Bakugo asks, his words harsh and biting as he pushes past him and into the apartment.

"I invited him," Aizawa replies tiredly, trying to stop the fighting before it can begin. "This apartment and the other safe house are in the area that falls under his patrol route, so I thought it'd be a good idea to keep him in the loop."

"You're already pulling one of Japan's finest heroes off the streets for this stupid case, is it really necessary to get another involved?"

Bakugo turns when he hears someone new speak, his eyes narrowing when they land on you and an angry looking woman tapping away on her phone.

He knows who you are, used to seeing your pretty face plastered on advertisements and magazines throughout the country. You're a well known singer who dabbles in acting, someone he's tired of hearing about from the group of idiots he calls his friends. An irritated huff escapes his lips and he finds himself thinking about all the times he protected celebrities when he was still a new hero on the scene, and how they turned out to be nothing more than spoiled brats.

"You and Anya both know this case isn't stupid," Aizawa says patiently, shooting you an unreadable look. Bakugo waits to see how you react, studying you as you exchange a look with the other woman— Anya— and pull the blanket on your lap closer to you. Aizawa ignores the two of you, instead choosing to take the time to remind you, and reveal to the other heroes, what exactly he has called them there for. "There is a stalker out there following your each and every move. Do you understand that? And they've already proven that they will stop at nothing to get to you."

"I know," you say softly, your eyes never leaving Aizawa's. "But I can take care of myself. C'mon, you trained me yourself."

There's a moment of silence, and Bakugo thinks that Aizawa might give in. He's wrong.

"No. Hizashi and I have already decided that Bakugo will be keeping an eye on you for the forseeable future and he has agreed to do it. And Midoriya has agreed to keep an eye out during his patrols as well."

Bakugo waits for it. He braces himself and waits for the pettiness and childishness that he's seen displayed by other big names when they don't get what they want. He waits for the yelling, the waterworks, maybe even the sight of you throwing something at Aizawa. But it never comes.

Instead, you nod and stand before turning to face him, letting him catch a glimpse of the frown on your lips and defeat in your eyes before you bow deeply.

"I apologize for the inconvenience."

"O-oh! No, please don't bow," Izuku immediately says, waving his hands in an attempt to grab your attention. "That's not nec—"

"Don't gimme that shit," Bakugo interrupts, crossing his arms. His comment earns him a strangled noise from Izuku, but his gaze doesn't leave you. "Stand the fuck up and tell me whatever else I need to know."

He thinks he sees you biting back an amused smile at his words, but you quickly school your features before you let yourself fall back onto the couch. Aizawa lets himself settle into the seat next to you, a smile ghosting his lips when you reach for a mug of coffee on the table and hand it to him.

"It started a year ago," Aizawa begins. Anya walks around the couch, picking up a thick folder from the table and handing it to Bakugo. He starts looking through it, eyes scanning every individual item before passing it to Izuku. There's letters of varying lengths and pictures of you from all angles, accompanied by the occasional police evidence photo of what he assumes to be gifts you've received.

"I would receive sporadic letters, at first," you add, your voice tired and quiet. "We thought it was regular fanmail, y'know? But then things started getting weird. They would mention specific things that I'd do on my days off, or ask what I was making with the groceries I had delivered to my door on a certain day. They never signed them but the police confirmed that the handwriting matched, so we know it's one person."

"We assume it's one person," Anya corrects, earning a tired sigh from Aizawa. "We don't really know anything about them."

Her words cause you to furrow your brow, and you sigh softly before looking back up at the Pros. Bakugo's eyebrow raises when he comes across a hospital record for a Yamamoto Anya, and he angles it slightly to show Izuku.

"You were in the hospital?" Izuku asks softly, green eyes scanning the report before turning to face the two of you. Anya nods firmly but remains silent, crossing her arms before perching on the arm rest of the couch next to you.

"Anya's my manager, and my best friend," you explain, clasping your hands together. "As I said earlier, at first the incidents were sporadic. Then we went to the police to ask them to investigate. We don't know how, but the stalker found out and things started getting weirder. There were anonymous gifts being received to the apartment I have under a different name and I was receiving texts from an untraceable number. We still don't know who the target was, but the night of the Tokyo Music Awards, there was an attack."

"Wasn't that last week?" Izuku asks, looking through the file to find the corresponding police report. "It was all over the news. They said that some small time villain had attacked but that there had been enough Pros working security for the event and that it had been taken care of without issue."

"That's what we told them to say," Aizawa reveals. "In reality, it was targeted. We don't know if they intended to kidnap or to injure but things got out of hand and Anya was caught in the crossfire."

"The goal was probably to injure so I'd be easier to kidnap," you say, snorting in amusement when Aizawa sighs at your words.

"Who apprehended the villain?" Bakugo asks, unable to find the name on the police report.

"No one did, but I went after them," you admit. "I almost had them but they slipped into the crowd and got away. I returned to check on Anya and then Aizawa arrived and whisked me away. I've been here since."

"You were stupid enough to go after your stalker?" Bakugo growls, eyes shooting up to glare at you. You open your mouth to respond, only to get cut off by him "You trying to get fucking killed or something?"

A huff escapes his lips when he feels Izuku elbow him harshly, and the two of them turn to face you when you breathe out a laugh.

"Or something," you mutter, earning a swat to the back of the head from Anya. You grab her hand and toss it into her lap, only to turn and be met with a disappointed look from Aizawa. You wilt under his gaze, sighing in defeat and motioning for him to continue.

"The plan is to send you two to a safehouse, still within the city, while Midoriya and I investigate," Aizawa explains, pulling out a scrap of paper and handing it to Bakugo. "That's the address. Unfortunately, you can't just disappear off the face of the earth until we catch the stalker. There's still public appearances and interviews that need to be done, but you need to be hidden during these outings, Bakugo. We fear that if the stalker catches wind of the fact that we involved Pros, that might drive them to do something even more drastic."

Bakugo grunts in acknowledgement, unfurling the scrap of paper and studying the address written on it before glancing at Aizawa. "Can I show this to the nerd?"

He nods in response, and Izuku takes a moment to also memorize the address before nodding. The paper is gone within a second, a tiny, controlled explosion reducing it to ashes. Your eyebrows raise with interest at the display, and Bakugo meets your gaze with a scowl. It deepens when you don't immediately cower from his stare.

"The two of you should get going," Aizawa notes, glancing at his watch before standing and tossing a set of keys to Bakugo. You stand as well, taking a moment to stretch before plucking your cell phone from the couch cushion. You turn to Anya, giving her a smug look that makes her groan.

"You should just go ahead and cancel the rest of my appointments for the week. It would be unwise for me to go out in public before coming up with a surefire way to stay safe when out and about," your words are said a little too happily, and you nearly glow with joy when Aizawa contemplates your words before ultimately nodding in agreement. Anya gives you a scathing look, her hand tightening around her phone as you grin. "Let me know who agrees to reschedule! I hope no one's too upset."

The snicker that leaves your lips draws an unwilling smile from almost everyone in the room, and you swoop in to steal a hug from Aizawa before coming to a stop in front of the Pros. There's a bright smile on your lips that makes Izuku blush, and Bakugo scoffs audibly when you give him another bow.

"It's an honor to meet you, Deku. Thank you for doing this."

"Please! Call me Midoriya," he sputters out, cheeks still tinged pink as you turn and face Bakugo. There's a twinkle in your eye when you meet his gaze, and he feels a spark of irritation when he realizes that you don't seem to be intimidated by him.

"Well Mr. Dynamight, shall we get going?"

Bakugo's annoyance only grows when you manage to keep up with his quick strides.

No words are exchanged as you traverse the street, and Bakugo makes sure to keep an eye out as he opens the door and ushers you into the passenger seat, his hand pushing your head down roughly to keep you from smacking it on the roof of the vehicle. You slide into the car smoothly, buckling your seat belt and glancing around as you wait for Bakugo to get in. Silence engulfs the two of you once he does, and Bakugo finds himself reaching for his phone to play some music and fill the stillness. He feels a blush crawling up his neck when one of your songs plays, the new one that Kaminari insisted on listening to the other night when he drove him home after drinks.

A smirk tugs at your lips but you don't say anything about it, thankfully, and he finds a song he likes and plays it before taking off down the road. You're quietly humming along to the song he's chosen as you look out the window, and it isn't until you're halfway to your newly assigned safe house that you speak.

"I'm not, you know?"

That's the only thing you say and Bakugo makes a confused noise before he can stop himself, his hands tightening around the steering wheel in annoyance when you let out an amused laugh.

"I'm not trying to get killed," you clarify, earning a derisive snort from Bakugo in return. "I have a hero license, I was just doing what I've always been taught to do. Apprehend the villain."

Your admission catches Bakugo off guard, and he can't help but throw you a surprised look when he finally comes to a red light.

"You're a hero?" he asks, his curiosity winning him over.

"Mhm," you reply absentmindedly, still looking out the window. "Technically. I attended U.A., believe it or not, but I wasn't in the hero course. Aizawa and some other teachers trained me and he managed to pull some strings in order to have me take the licensing exam in my third year. He said it was better to have it just in case. Between us, I think he got even more overprotective after Nemuri, Midnight, passed."

Bakugo remembers attending the funeral after All for One had been defeated. It had been a deceptively happy day, sun bright and shining as the students, staff, and other heroes gathered to pay their respects to the fallen. He remembers a student standing next to Aizawa, their hand in his as he held onto what was left in the battle: her mask.

"She was my legal guardian, but she made sure to leave me under the care of someone she trusted just in case something ever happened."

And it did, goes unsaid.

Bakugo's left with more questions than before, but he refuses to give into his curiosity and actually ask. It isn't long until the two of you arrive at yet another upscale building, and hum quietly to grab his attention once more.

"Can I have your hoodie?"

"What the fuck? No!" is his immediate reply. There's an unpleasant look on his face, lips twisted up in what seems to be a cross between disgust and offense. "Why the fuck would you even ask?"

You give him an unimpressed look, raising an eyebrow before holding your hand out. "Listen, call me paranoid if you want, but I think it'd be a good idea for me to hide my face as we enter the top secret safehouse."

Bakugo grumbles and curses as he slips off his sweater, pissed off at the fact that you were right. His anger only intensifies when he realizes that he didn't think about that first. You waste no time in slipping the sweater over your head, pulling the hood as far forward as it can go and slipping on a pair of sunglasses. It's only then that you slip out of the car, waiting for Bakugo to get out before heading towards the entrance.

The two of you head into the elevator, and when you reach out to press the correct button, you manage to catch a whiff of a sweet, smoky smell. You turn your head to the side as the doors close, lifting the collar to your nose to see if it came from the sweater or somewhere else.

"Are you sniffin' my fucking sweater?" Bakugo asks roughly, pulling your arm back down to your side. You let out an offended noise before wrenching out of his grasp, leaning against the wall and shooting him a withering look.

"I smelled something sweet and I was curious!" you defend yourself, tilting your head back slightly to look down at him. Bakugo feels his blood boil. "I can't believe someone like you smells so good."

"What's that supposed to mean!" he nearly yells, taking a step towards you. You don't deign to give him a response, instead slinking out from beside him when the elevator finally comes to a stop. There's no hesitation in your steps as you walk past various doors, finally coming to a stop at the end of the hallway and wiggling a key into the lock.

Bakugo trails in after you, locking the door and growling when he's met with a sweater to the face. There's an innocent smile on your face as you slip off your sunglasses, placing them down onto the coffee table before traipsing down the hallway. Bakugo starts his usual sweep around the space, making sure to send a text to Aizawa to let him know the two of you have arrived safely.

"Your bedroom is at the end of the hall," your voice calls out, earning a grunt in response. "Mine is to your left and the bathoom is across from my room. They already came and dropped our stuff off!"

Bakugo's eyes narrow when you walk back into the living room, a mass of fluff held in your arms. "What the hell is that?"

"This is Pickles!" you proclaim proudly, holding your arms out. There's a fluffy cat in your hands, and she lazily eyes Bakugo as she hangs in the air. Your smile falls when Pickles twists, jumping out from your hold and beelining towards Bakugo. "Pickles, no! I'm sorry, she's wary around strangers so I'd recommend backing away if you don't want your pants scratched."

Your words fade out towards the end of your statement, your jaw falling slack as you observe the way Pickles approaches Bakugo and proceeds to rub against him. She snakes in between his legs, meowing softly and pawing at his shoe as she waits for him to pay attention to her.

"You little attention whore," you whisper, your face twisting up in disbelief when Bakugo kneels down to pet her. He shoots you a smug smirk when she starts purring, and you feel your eye twitch when she lays down, exposing her belly. "She took forever to warm up to me. How did you do that?"

"I'm just the best," Bakugo replies cockily. "Even she knows that."

"Whatever, I'm going to take a nap. I can cook dinner later if you'd like," you say softly, reaching up to rub at your eyes.

"I can cook my own damn food," Bakugo snaps, his attention shifting to you. You breathe out a laugh.

"In that case, I think I'll turn in for the night. I'll leave my door slightly open for Pickles."

"Don't be a dumbass, you have to eat."

"I'll just get up early and cook breakfast," you shout, already disappearing from sight as you make your way to your room. "Good night Mr. Dynamight!"

"It's Bakugo," he grumbles under his breath as you duck into your room. A laugh is all he gets in response, and your room goes dark as you finally settle into bed. His attention is caught by small meow, and he sighs before picking Pickles up and petting her. She curls up against his chest, swatting at his hand and making a pleased noise when she manages to grasp it between two of her paws. He looks down at the cat, raising a brow when she decides to start gnawing on his finger.

"Just you and me hairball."

The two of you fall into an admittedly easy routine throughout the rest of the week.

Bakugo's surprised by how easy this assignment has been. He's used to stubborn celebrities demanding to be let out, complaining and whining and overall just annoying him until he snaps and curses them out. However, you're a quiet housemate, waking up early to cook breakfast for the two of you before retreating to your room for the rest of the day or lounging on the couch with Pickles. Bakugo takes it upon himself to cook dinner for the two of you, and whoever is in charge of lunch is always decided with a coin toss. He loses more often than you do.

Pickles becomes a frequent presence as well, and sometimes he wakes up to see the cat curled up peacefully on the pillow next to him. How she gets into his room, he doesn't know. When he emerges from his room in the morning with her gathered in his arms, you apologize profusely, your stare lingering on the way his lips curl up into a tiny smile when you take her from him.

You inform Bakugo early on in the week that Anya has listened to you, canceling all of your prior engagements and sending you an updated schedule for the next week. He squints when you hold your hand out, cell phone in hand as you prompt him to take it.

"Mr. Dynamight, give me your number."

"It's Bakugo," he grumbles, pushing your hand away from him. "And why the hell would I do that?"

"So I can send you the schedule," you huff, extending your arm once again. He obliges reluctantly, purposefully taking his time in an attempt to annoy you. You don't react to his provocation, instead smiling sweetly at him when he hands your phone back and sending him the file.

When you begin to send him memes, he refuses to acknowledge you for the day.

The two of you spend days successfully planning how to keep you safe during your public appearances, your combined experience making the task easier than you thought it'd be. Your first week back out in public goes well, and even though you know better than to let your guard down, the knowledge that Pro Hero Dynamight is watching you from a distance helps to soothe your nerves. Your routine remains the same for the following week, during which there is an incident, but it turns out to be an overexcited fan. You then beg and beg Anya to book less appearances until she gets fed up with your fake crying.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you hate your job," Bakugo mutters one evening while making dinner. "You keep brushing off all your stupid engagements and you won't have a fucking career to go back to."

"Good thing you know better," you say playfully, your eyes glinting with mischief as you approach him. Your arm brushes against his back as you peek around him, your hand darting out to grab a slice of the strawberries he's cutting up to eat with lunch. He's too slow to stop you, not that he really tries to.

He finds that his original irritation towards the assignment has faded, and even though he misses being out on patrol and taking down bad guys, he thinks that this mission isn't the worst. Or maybe it's because of you. It takes Bakugo weeks to admit to himself that you're not as bad as he thought you'd be. In fact, you're not anything like what he expected you to be, all sly smiles and snarky words and casual touches that he's too embarrassed to reciprocate. But he doesn't like you, no, he doesn't.

You like to think he's getting used to your presence, but his occasional aloofness makes you think otherwise. There's a part of you, the side that's trying to ignore the reason that resulted in being assigned to a safe house in the first place, that enjoys your time spent with Bakugo. You like the way he's so easy to rile up, the way he carefully plates food for both of you, and the way he smiles when Pickles demands his attention. You think that maybe, just maybe, you might like him, even if everything else about his attitude makes you think he doesn't even tolerate you.

But you're too preoccupied with your ongoing case to really sit with your thoughts and try to sort out your feelings.

Updates from Aizawa and Midoriya are few and far between, and although you and Bakugo have fallen into a comfortable routine, you can tell that he's getting fed up with the situation. His restlessness is obvious, especially with the news talking nonstop about his sudden disappearance and speculating on the reasons why Dynamight might've stopped doing his duty as a hero.

"How long do you think this will continue?" you ask one night, sneaking a peek at him and waiting for his snarky reply.

"I dunno," he responds, sounding defeated. He sighs heavily and turns the television off.

He watches as you purse your lips and reach for his hand, pausing when he instinctively pulls away. There's a brief pause before you take a deep breath and let your hand fall on the sofa. He glances at you, eyes scanning your face as you keep staring at the blank screen, and lets his head fall back and eyes fall shut as he mentally berates himself for his actions. You head off to bed soon after, and Bakugo remains there for the rest of the night.

The next morning is quieter than usual, and the two of you are eating breakfast when there's a knock on the door. You waste no time in prancing to the entrance, reaching for the doorknob before a large hand grabs your wrist.

"Don't open the fucking door," he hisses, pulling your hand down. You raise an eyebrow, tilting your head in an innocent manner.

"Why not? It's only Midoriya."

"What?"

You reach over and open the door with your other hand, only to be met with a sunny smile from none other than Pro Hero Deku.

"Kacchan!" he exclaims, brightening up even more at the sight of his childhood friend. "I'm here to swap."

"What?" Bakugo bites out again. Midoriya's smile falters.

"Uh, swap. Places, I mean," he explains, smiling when he looks back at you. "I thought you said he asked?"

"Asked what?" Bakugo growls, his hand tighetning slightly around your arm.

"Yeah! He did," you respond just as cheerily. Bakugo goes ignored.

"Hey! Listen to me when I fucking talk to ya!"

"Come on in, we were just eating breakfast. Would you like any?" you ask. Midoriya shakes his head and you promptly wiggle your arm out of Bakugo's grasp and usher them into the living room.

"What is the shitty nerd doing here?" Bakugo yells, fed up with the situation.

"He's here to take your spot! Remember, Mr. Dynamight ?"

"I already told you, it's Bakugo," he snarls, eyes narrowing as they fall onto you. Your smile is unfaltering and equally as sunny as Izuku's was when he first arrived. He spares a glace at the other Pro Hero in the room, taking note of the way he nervously wrings his hands as he studies the two of you. He doesn't excuse himself before taking ahold of your arm once again, dragging you down the hallway and into his room before slamming the door.

You take a moment to glance around his room, your eyes narrowing when you spot Pickles curled up on his bed, before finally meeting his eyes. There's a fire in his eyes that you've only seen before when he's mid-battle, reserved for situations where his anger is at an all time high. You meet his gaze evenly, and he seems to calm down slightly when make a questioning noise.

"What the fuck was all that about?" he asks harshly, his voice low in order to not be overheard. The walls are thin, he knows this.

"I thought you'd like to return to your hero duties," you say coolly. "Y'know, patrolling and beating up baddies."

"Listen, when I agree to a job I don't plan on doing it half-assed," he retorts. He wonders if your sudden encouragement for him to leave has to do with his actions night before… and the rest of the week. He knows it does. "You're stuck with me, sweetheart, whether you like it or not. So get out there and tell Deku that you changed your mind and that I'll be seeing this task until the very end."

You don't move for a few seconds, and Bakugo's eyebrows furrow in confusion until he realizes the way you bashfully averted your gaze at the nickname. The corner of his lip tugs up into a smirk, but he doesn't get the chance to comment on it before you start speaking.

"Your reputation and ranking are tanking because of this and it's not very fair to you. Besides, nothing has happened in weeks. No letters, no gifts, no suspicious activity. I'm sure it'd be fine to switch spots with Midoriya for a couple of days. And I thought you were getting a little tired of staying in here all day. Maybe getting out and seeing your friends would do you some good."

Bakugo takes a deep breath before closing his eyes. "I already told you, I'm not leaving you until this assignment is done. Go out there, and tell Deku you changed your fucking mind."

"Yeah, about that," you say, your tone of voice causing Bakugo's eyes to fly open. There's impish smile on your face, and Bakugo feels a sense of foreboding as you speak your next words. "I might've told him that you requested the swap. So really, it's you that has to go out there and tell him you changed your mind."

You laugh and head back to the living room before Bakugo can yell at you, smiling softly at Midoriya before heading to the kitchen to clean up the abandoned plates.

Bakugo groans and begrudgingly heads to the living room, dragging Izuku by his collar and leading him to the front door.

He shuts the door in his face and provides no explanation.

Things are different after that.

Bakugo makes a bigger effort to interact with you, spending move evenings by your side instead of keeping his distance. Slowly but surely you begin to notice, and you can't help but wonder if this has anything to do with your discussion in his room the previous week.

You try not to show that you're flustered when the two of you begin to cook together instead of taking turns, and you have to admit that sharing the kitchen with Bakugo is intimate in a way you never knew cooking with somebody else could be. His movements are always fluid, never hesitant, and you find that you fall into a groove when you work alongside him.

The space is full of teasing and grumbling as well, and you find that fleeting touches between the two of you start to become more common. There's the occassional hip check when he tries to steal a piece of whatever you're chopping, and the occasional hand skimming your lower back when he tries to get past you in order to reach something. You tend to go rigid under his touch, and Bakugo finds that he starts doing it a little more often in order to hear the way your breath hitches when his fingertips skim over your shirt. He's thinks he likes you.

You’ve had the time to sit with your feelings, all the swirling uncertainty and aching that you feel weighing down on your heart when you see Bakugo present you with a new dish or scoop Pickles up when she won't stop pawing at his leg. Bakugo Katsuki is so perfectly imperfect, and you think that there's no one in the world who is privileged enough to get to see every single side of him that he has unintentionally and intentionally bared for you to see in your short time living together. You find that it is much easier to come to the conclusion that yes, you do like him. You think you might even love him.

You don't get the chance to wonder if he likes you as well before it all goes to hell.

It's a few days later, on a sunny Wednesday, that you finally come face to face with your stalker.

"Alright, you have one more meeting after this and then we can get you back home," Anya says, hurrying you you of the building you were in and towards the car. You mumble something under your breath, holding your sweater tightly to your body to protect yourself against the afternoon chill. Anya stops by your side when you stumble to a halt, and you quickly grab onto her when you hear something approaching quickly. "What's going on?"

You waste no time in pulling her back, something— someone, you vaguely think— crashing into the spot where you had just been standing.

"What the fuck?" Anya whispers, taking in the sight before you. There's a man standing in front of you, close to your age and surrounding by dark tendrils. His sharp, green eyes slide from Anya to you, and he breaks out into a smile before taking a step forward. Anya places herself in front of you, blocking you from his view and earning a harsh glare from the man. "Get the hell away from us."

You quickly scan your surroundings for any sign of Bakugo, and even though you know he's close by, you can't help but feel a little anxious when he doesn't immediately show up. A movement in your peripheral catches your attention, and you tighten your hold on Anya and dive out of the way before one of the dark tendrils shoots out and incapacitates her. The two of you crash into the side of the car, and you waste no time in opening the door and shoving her inside.

"Stay there!" you tell her, motioning for her to stop trying to open the door.

"No!" she argues, her shouts muffled by the window. "What about you?"

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Just trust me," you say reassuringly. Anya hesitates before nodding, her hands falling to her side.

"Stay safe. You better not get fucking hurt!"

You nod once, taking a glance to see your stalker getting closer before you take off in a sprint in the direction you know Bakugo is. You whip your phone out, sending quick 'SOS' to Aizawa before turning a corner. You don't bother sending your location, knowing he's probably been tracking you for years.

The sound of footsteps following you only spurs you on, and you try to think of a game plan to deal with the situation in a safe manner before you feel something wrap around your wrist. You come to a sudden stop when the tendril pulls you back, and you let out a cry when you stumble and fall to the ground, your knees knocking harshly against the concrete.

"I've been looking for you for so long," the man breathes, kneeling down to take your hand in his. You resist the urge to tear it away from him, conscious of the way the tendril seems to loosen when you relax. "I finally found you, we can finally be together."

You take a moment to study him, trying to gather your thoughts before responding. Your voice is light as you speak, and you lean forwards slightly in an attempt to make it seem like you're giving in. "We can. But you're hurting me, you know? You're quite strong, I can't believe I didn't realize it soon."

He takes the bait, retracting the tendril and almost glowing at the words that leave your lips. His lips part to respond and you waste no time in head butting him hard enough to send him sprawling. You hop to your feet, stumbling briefly when your bruised knees almost give out, but you manage to keep your balance and dodge the tendril your stalker attacks with.

"You bitch!" he screams, earning an eye roll from you as he tries to grab ahold of you once more. "I don't know why you're doing this when it's clear we're meant to be together!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you say under your breath, lunging forwards to land a hit. He defends poorly, and you think that his strange obsession with you has come in handy when he refuses to strike back in fear of hurting you.

When Bakugo lands on the sidewalk in front of you mere seconds later, he's met with the sight of your stalker face down on the ground, unconscious and with hands creatively tied behind his back with your sweater as you stare at him smugly. A tired laugh leaves Bakugo's lips and he wastes no time in removing the sweater, slapping on a pair of quirk canceling handcuff onto your stalker and moving to lean him up against the building behind you.

"Took you long enough," you chirp, earning a glare from Bakugo.

"I can't believe you were stupid enough to go after your stalker," he states, his words reminiscent of the ones he said when he first met you. "Actually, scratch that. Yeah, I fucking can."

"Well it's not like you were doing anything," you retort, crossing your arms. "Where were you?"

"I had it under control," he barks, motioning to the area around you. You take note of Midoriya standing on a rooftop, a couple of detectives scattered down the street as they wait for Bakugo's all clear.

"Oh!"

"What happened here?"

You turn when you see Aizawa approaching, eyes tired but alert as they scan you for injuries. You beam at him, pointing towards the unsconscious criminal before gesturing to yourself to show that you're fine, other than your bruised knees. "See! I told you I could handle myself."

"Yes, I suppose you did," is all he says before turning to Bakugo. He's caught off guard when Aizawa bows deeply. "I'm eternally thankful, Bakugo. You did a great job, even if it turned out we didn't need your help after all."

The last statement is said mockingly, and you pout when Aizawa shoots you a pointed look. You ignore it in favor of turning to Bakugo, bowing as well.

"I already told you, don't gimme that shit," he spits out, crossing his arms when you straighten up and give him a shit-eating grin.

"I just wanted to give you my thanks," you say, a teasing lilt to your voice as you take a step forward. Aizawa grunts before walking away, shaking his head as he goes. "Although I suppose that there are other—"

"You're safe!"

Anya's screams interrupt you, and you give Bakugo an apologetic look as she pulls you away, fussing over you and bending down to clean off your knees. You smile fondly as she shoves a water bottle into your hand, stealing one last glance at Bakugo before he's whisked away by the detectives to make a statement.

A week passes and Bakugo hasn't stopped thinking about you.

He wonders how often he'd get to see you now that he's not watching over you, grimacing when he realizes that he'd probably only see you at hero galas and community fundraisers that might overlap with both of your schedules. The two of you have exchanged a few messages since the mission ended, lot of memes being sent from your end that make Bakugo laugh, not that he'd ever admit it.

He's wondering if he should build up the courage to be more direct with you, to possibly follow up on how you could thank him and then ask you out on a date when he hears a knock on his door.

"Hey!" you greet him when he opens the door, bright smile on your face as you shove a bag into his hands. "I hope you don't mind but I got your address form Aizawa. I was thinking I could cook you dinner, you know, as a thank you."

His jaw is hanging as he takes you in, and you snicker when he doesn't respond.

"Hey, what's wrong? Pickles got your tongue?" you laugh at your own joke, and Bekugo snaps his jaw shut at the words, ushering you in and shutting the door behind you.

"That was a shitty joke."

"Eh, can't expect everyone to get my sense of humor."

He shakes his head fondly as he follows you into his kitchen, and you take the bag you previously pushed into his arms and place it on the counter. You look at him expectantly raising an eyebrow teasingly as he takes a step closer.

"So this dinner,” he starts, tone casual as he drinks you in. “Is it a date?"

"Do you want it to be?" you respond. Your voice is quiet and light, and he finds himself crowding you against the counter, arms on either side of you as he cages you in. You're vaguely reminded of the time the two of you argued in his room at the safe house, the only difference being the look in his eyes. Where there was anger that day, this time you see nothing but an unfamiliar tenderness, eyes warm as he mulls his answer over.

"Yeah," he says roughly, a wicked grin spreading across his face when you look at him in mild surprise. "I do want it to be."

“I didn’t think you’d admit it,” you retort. The smile he receives in return is almost blinding, but he feels that familiar sense of foreboding when you suddenly give him a coy look and wrap your arms around his neck.

"So... does this mean I'm... Mrs. Dynamight?" you ask innocently.

"Shut the fuck up," he groans before finally leaning down to silence your giggles with a kiss.

ty for reading <3

[niwaart]

FAMILY WITHOUT LIGHT

[#part1 #part2 #part3]

Dick panicked, he gripped his phone tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip.

《This number is unreachable, please try again later.》

Dick let out a scream of anger and impatience, he had been trying to call Y/N for over 5 hours, just to get an answer. Why did she leave the house?… All this happened when he was in his Nightwing costume doing a normal nighttime mission after tying up criminals, a newspaper with Bruce’s picture caught his attention, Dick wondered what new drama the journalists were talking about this time, as soon as he grabbed the newspaper he felt like the air was being sucked out of him. It took him over a minute to process what was being said…

##Bruce Wayne and Y/N Wayne divorced after more than 15 years.##

No... that's a lie, just another rumor, it can't be true, maybe Bruce doesn't care about Y/N but Y/N wouldn't leave the house... after all he saw her love for Damian and Tim, and how she cared for them... so this is just a rumor... right?....

Dick took the newspaper with him and quickly ran to his apartment... He needed to make sure.. He had to get to his apartment to call Y/N.. She would tell him the truth, reassure him, tell him that everything was okay.... As soon as he got to his apartment window, he opened it and entered after entering the access code. His dog Haley approached him, he gave her a few pats before he reached his phone and called Y/N... But she didn't answer his calls.... He tried and tried and tried... But no answer... Could it be true?... Did Y/N leave the house?... Why?....

He was going to call Bruce but he was mad at him for not stopping Y/N from leaving and that he might be the reason Y/N left. So he decided to call Alfred who immediately answered, "Mr. Dick, how may I help you?" "Hello Alfred... Sorry to bother you now... The thing is... I..." Dick hesitated... He was afraid to hear the answer...

“I just called Y/N and she didn’t answer… so I was wondering if everything was okay…” Dick answered, praying with all his might that there was an excuse other than the divorce… “Oh… Mr. Dick… I don’t know how to tell you this… but… Y/N and Bruce have been divorced for three months now…” Alfred’s answer was like a knife slicing into his chest… well maybe deep down he knew the divorce was real… but… three months ago?… and no one told him?… “How… why?… why the divorce, and why didn’t anyone tell me?” Dick’s voice was muffled, he tried not to cry, he tried to control himself a little… “I’m sorry Mr. Dick… it was such a shock to everyone that I forgot to tell you… as for the divorce, Y/N chose that herself… unfortunately…” Alfred’s voice was filled with pain, making it even harder for Dick to hold back his tears… Y/N had left them… she had left them…

Dick hung up the phone after thanking Alfred and collapsed on the floor crying… His dog Haley was beside him trying to comfort him… But it didn’t work… It took Dick maybe half an hour to calm himself down… He tried to take deep breaths in and out… Then he hugged his dog Haley who had already settled happily in his lap. Dick was sitting on the floor leaning his head on the bed behind him while looking at the ceiling of his apartment. He couldn’t help but remember all the memories with Y/N. Dick may not have said it out loud before, but he considered Y/N as his mother… She always took care of him, he still remembers the first time he came to Wayne Manor after his parents died, he was full of anger and wanted revenge, Bruce was trying to channel his anger in a good way to fight the bad guys, but Y/N allowed him to vent his anger, by crying and getting all his feelings out and not holding them in, he remembers that he was mean to her at first, thinking that she was trying to be his mother, but after a while, it turned out that she was just trying to help him, she helped him decorate his parents' grave, buy new things, and when he fought with Bruce she took his side… and even now she still against Bruce and side with Damian, he loved the stories she told, she helped him and encouraged him to speak his mind and thoughts and not hold them in… even when he had a big fight with Bruce and decided to leave the house to be independent… She called him every night, asking him how he was, and if he tried to lie she would know and ask him to tell the truth, which he actually couldn't resistance, so he was always honest with her, Dick was used to being a leader and a good big brother, everyone depended on him… and Y/N was the one he could count on, she was the light of his life, she was family, until recently she used to call him and check on him, now he knew why she hadn't called in three months… He sighed and looked down to see that Haley was asleep, he picked her up and put her in her bed. Even if Y/N had left the house, she still loved them, he was sure, maybe if he went back to Gotham and talked to her he would understand, yeah, maybe she had left the house, but she wouldn't leave them, she still loved them. He was sure

In Gotham... specifically at Wayne Manor, Tim was suffering from a headache and back pain, he was lying in his bed... well maybe not his bed, but in Y/N's bed and room. His work and the pile of papers were almost competing with the towering mountains... when did paperwork become so stressful and tiring? He didn't remember this ever being a problem for him, he wouldn't lie to himself, he knew that Y/N's departure was the reason for the work to be doubled, the sleep to be less, and the pain to be more, Y/N used to do almost all the work for him, so he could rest, but now he couldn't balance his sleeping time, eating, doing all the work, solving cases, and becoming Red Robin, it was too much, Y/N was managing it so well, she did his work, made sure he ate and drank enough before she literally dragged him from the Batcave to the palace to sleep against his will, she always carried him like a baby, he always wondered how she could carry him so easily, okay he'd admit that when he first came to the palace he was a very skinny baby, but he grew up and became muscular, maybe not like Duck or Jason but he sure wasn't light, anyway that didn't concern him now... The problem here is that he hasn't slept in... two days? He doesn't know, maybe it's been three days... He hates that Y/N used to carry him to his room and stay by his side until he fell asleep, and he hated that she knew that sometimes he pretended to sleep, so she wouldn't leave until Tim was completely asleep... Sometimes Tim couldn't sleep easily, like when there was a mission or a case on his mind but Y/N carried him to his room before he could finish it, so he would complain and sometimes beg Y/N to finish the case, that it wouldn't take long, but Y/N always refused... And he couldn't sleep because of the case that consumed his mind, so Y/N would sometimes tell him stories... And it worked to make him sleep... He wondered if Y/N's stories were real, because they didn't seem imaginary at all, her stories were strangely realistic, to the point that all Tim's attention was only on the story until he fell asleep. And so Tim became forced to sleep because of Y/N, food and water, when he should take a break and when he should finish the case, Y/N was organizing his life, he didn't remember getting tired or exhausted from this organization, on the contrary, he was getting enough sleep and food to renew his energy, and even after he came back from his break he would come back with more energy and his solving of cases was at an amazingly higher rate than before, it was very useful, Y/N was the only one who knew how to organize him amazingly with all the work he had. But Y/N wasn't just organizing his life, she even hid his mistakes. Sometimes he would come back from missions with some wounds. Tim didn't like to say that he was injured, it made him weak, and he didn't want to be weak, but Y/N would discover every wound he had, even if it was hidden. The good thing was that she never told Bruce about the injuries, and if the injuries were serious, she would make an excuse for Tim not to go on the next mission. She would cover up all his failures and mistakes in silence... and he was grateful to her. He still remembered when Damian first came and took the Robin costume from him, she would comfort him and stay by his side and tell him that Robin wasn't the one wearing the costume, Robin was the one who protected the children of this city.

It really helped him… he remembered when he asked her advice about his new costume and name, and she encouraged him… she was proud of him, he saw it in her eyes, and when Batman disappeared and everyone thought he was dead and Dick was about to put him in Arkham, Y/N was the first to protest and the first to hit Dick… well that problem was solved a while ago and Y/N was so mad at Dick, it took Dick over three weeks to try to get her to forgive him… it was funny to Tim. She got mad for him. For him… he missed her… she was his whole life, now he couldn’t sleep or work, even his appetite was gone… he could barely survive on coffee now. That’s why he moved into her room a few weeks after she left, he wouldn’t say he slept well, but at least he did, now her scent, her warmth, even her voice and her look at him were gone. When he moved into her room he had a fight with Damian about it, that was the first and last fight they had since Y/N left. Damian wouldn't like it if Tim was the one taking over Y/N's room, and it was a long, tiring fight, in which Damian gave in for the first time ever, letting Tim sleep in Y/N's room. Tim knew very well why Damian was angry, that he missed Y/N too, Damian had changed dramatically after her departure, he barely spoke inside the house, and even on missions he didn't have the same enthusiasm as usual, and he didn't blame Damian for that, he missed her himself... but he had to thank his position as CEO of WE for that which helped him see Y/N a lot, he had multiple meetings with Y/N's family company under the pretext of resuming relations again, just to see Y/N, and one of the meetings was always cancelled due to circumstances, whether from his side or Y/N's, and the first meeting that finally happened was last night, and after more than three months he saw Y/N again, when she entered the meeting room she automatically patted him on the head and asked him how he was and that his appearance looked bad and he should eat and sleep well... Tim was silent, he felt a lump in his throat, if there weren't other people in the room he would have collapsed and hugged her and asked her to come back, but he remained silent looking down Trying to breathe slowly, after the meeting ended he wanted to catch up with her, and talk to her alone and tell her that he needed her back, he hadn't slept in a long time, but because of some old businessmen that Tim was planning to throw out who blocked his way with some questions, invitations and failed offers that caused Tim to be late to catch up with Y/N, but it's okay, he will have another meeting with her, and he will ask her to go home.

Tim sighed as he tried to sleep for the sixth time and was about to fall asleep this time but the knocking on the door woke him up. He grumbled and cursed under his breath at the person at the door unless that person was Alfred, Tim got up lazily and opened the door to be surprised by Damian standing at the door... "Oh? Damian? What's wrong?" Tim noticed Damian's eyes were puffy from crying, he wasn't surprised, ever since Y/N left Damian had been crying a lot, not that anyone would tell him that was obvious. "I want you to find me two people, they're from my school, and they call Y/N my aunt." Damian said calmly without any arrogance. Tim looked at him in confusion for a while, could it be that Damian was after Y/N now? "And before you say anything I know that you're trying to get Y/N back through the meetings you request from her family's company." Damian continued crossing his arms. Tim tensed for a moment, he didn't know that it was obvious, then sighed in surrender. "Okay, come in."

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[rafesweetie]

track vii. MISS AMERICANA & THE HEARTBREAK PRINCE! (feat. rafe x pogue!princess!reader)

“the storm is coming but, it’s you and me,”

you weren’t sure rafe was capable of being kind.

he was always somewhat sweet to you, the kook often referring to you as ‘his pogue’, the only one he likes. but he always spoke lowly about your friends, and it hurt you.

you stopped bringing the pogues up for a while, not wanting to start any arguments between you and your boyfriend. in fact, you’d stopped hanging out with them in general.

rafe enjoyed having you all to himself, bringing you to the country club (much to your dismay), to prove you’re not all pogue, you have some class in you. and you were ever so happy to spend time with him, it wasn’t like you didn’t adore him, but putting on this fake act to please him wasn’t your vibe, all because you were nervous that he wouldn’t like you as much if you were full-pogue, like your friends that hates.

one day, pope heyward calls you, starting it off asking how you are, that you need to hang out soon, but then he asks for money, because your friends business isn’t going so well. the business that you declined working at, even though you helped find the gold.

“i’m a pogue like you pope, don’t have any,”

“yeah, but your boyfriend does.” was his answer.

nervously, you wait a few days until rafe’s having a good day. once you know he’s happy, you butter him up with homemade cupcakes and kisses and sex, until you’re sure he’s happy enough not to blow up on you.

“hey rafey?” you ask gently when the two of you are cuddled up on the couch, watching him scroll through his phone.

he sets down his phone to be present, knowing something’s up. “yeah, princess?”

“um, my friends called,” you start. “the pogues,”

“yeah?” he coaxes the hesitant words out of you.

“they need money for their business.”

“jesus,” he sighs, throwing his head back on the couch.

you sigh with him. “s’really important, for their shop,”

“their stupid-ass little business? it’s gonna go down with or without my money, baby,”

“don’t you feel at least a bit bad? they’re hopless without us, ‘n their my friends, and it’s like my team is losing or whatever—“

“your team? still picking fuckin’ sides? go out with a kook, but hate me, i get it,”

“rafe, i didn’t say that!” you whine. “i don’t really wanna fight, nobodies gonna win. i just feel like out of every kook i know, you’re the only one who seems to care at least a little about the pogues, and your sister, and they need us. they can pay you back,”

“yeah, obviously they will,” he sighs. “i’ll go in tomorrow, okay? i’ll give them my business card, see what me and them can figure out. will it make you happy?”

“yes, it will,” you answer.

“then i’ll do it.”

you smile and cuddle more into him when he says that.

“as long as you’re happy,” he murmurs. “you and me, okay? that’s my whole world.”

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

au where pretty much all of gotham knows damn well bruce wayne's small army of children are also the assorted bat and bird themed vigilantes around town (considering they barely cover their faces and their ages, races, heights, and timelines all line up perfectly lmao) BUT. they still think bruce is just their resident sadboy beloved princess like no way he's batman. he's a soaking wet premie kitten of a man. if you raise your voice around him he'd probably startle like a baby deer. one time I bumped into bruce wayne on the street and both of our briefcases spilled open everywhere when we fell and he teared up and gave me his wallet while apologizing for being too lost in his own thoughts. one time I accidentally poured hot soup in his lap at a gala and he just said "thank you😔". he's just a little guy he's depressed and his rowdy-ass kids sap up all the little energy he has so OBVIOUSLY he's not batman. and like this open secret becomes a whole debate about whether or not he knows his kids are doing this, and whether or not someone should tell him about it. like on one hand yeah they're doing great things for the city. but hasn't that poor guy been through ENOUGH? can he handle the stress of knowing his babies are risking their lives? would he make them stop, or does he already know and allows it? he doesn't seem that irresponsible of a parent tho! would he feel pride or horror if he knew they became the type of person he (and his parents) needed when he was younger? for the most part, people leave them to it, seeing as most of the wayne kids are adults anyway, but every now and then little damian saves some older ladies just for them to end up yelling at him about how his daddy has a poor constitution and his heart will give out from all the stress (and he's just gotta stand there like 😡😡😡😡😡 because arguing would essentially be confirming his identity and he Cannot be the one to fuck that up first. there's a betting pool. he Needs tim to be the one who loses.) bruce is completely oblivious to this except for sometimes when he's out as batman people will be like "you're a monster for letting these kids fight crime its so irresponsible" and he's just like "yeah I know but if I don't give them an outlet they'd probably destroy the city themselves🙄" and the citizens are like flashing back to the bruce wayne birthday bash incident of 2019 that ended with a city block in flames, half the kids in jail and bruce checking himself into one of those fake rehabs rich people go to when they need to escape the stress of being rich and an 8 year old acting as ceo for wayne enterprises for two months before the 8 year got accused of war profiteering so bruce had to check out of the rehab early. and they're like "okay yeah that's fair" and figure maybe gotham's sweetest son bruce is at least getting a good night sleep in a quiet mansion while his beloved yet terrible children are burning off energy beating people up all night

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson X Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Ch. 26

Word Count- 4.8k

Warnings- ARSON, swearing, mentions of sex and threesomes

“Wait so Theo tried giving my brothers the sex talk?”

I tighten my jacket as I cringe at Rebekah’s question. The blonde original walks beside me past construction workers and townspeople as we make our way over to Wickey Bridge.

“I wish I was joking. He’s so corny.”

Rebekah lets out a chuckle, “And let me guess, my brothers sat down and listened.”

I let out a sigh, “Every second of it.”

“What happened after you kicked Theo out?”

I frown as I recall last night, “Nothing. Like… literally nothing. Theo went to his room and then Klaus and Elijah stood up and then Elijah wished me a good night, and then they just left,” I raise my hands in defeat and Rebekah rolls her eyes. 

“Well what did you want to happen,” I close my mouth as I hear Rebekah’s tone and see the smirk on her face.

“Nothing…shut up.”

Rebekah shakes her head, “Then you have nothing to complain about,” She eyes me, “Right?”

I eye her back and nod, “Yep. Nothing at all.”

Rebekah rolls her eyes at me and mutters something quietly under her breath before wrapping her arm in mine and dragging me toward Carol Lockwood.

“Why are we here anyways,” I shake slightly as a brush of wind hits my face, “It’s cold. And there’s too many people here.”

“I told you in the car, I need some information. We’ll leave as soon as I get it.”

Rebekah leads us to Carol who plasters a huge fake smile as soon as she sees the Original and it slightly dampers when his eyes meet mine and I fight the urge to roll my own. 

“Rebekah and…Y/n,” Her tone tightens as she says my name, “What a pleasure you’re both here! How can I help you?”

Before Rebekah can respond I spot a refreshments table and untangle my arm from Bekah’s. She frowns at me but when I point towards the drinks she nods, going back to talk to Carol. 

I’d rather lobotomize myself than have a conversation with that woman. 

—

I blow out a breath as I nurse the styrofoam cup filled with cocoa in my hands. The warmth momentarily giving my hands some much-needed heat. 

“Pukey, you hear with Barbie Klaus I presume?”

I turn around and my eyes meet Damon’s blue ones. 

“Sadly, yes.”

My attention strays to a pretty red-headed woman who stands beside him, an amused smile comes over her face as she gives me a once over. 

“Pukey?”

“It’s Y/n.”

She blinks as she hears my name and something momentarily shifts in her gaze, and then her smile turns into a small smirk that unsettles me.

She reaches out her hand for me to shake but Damon pushes it down. 

“Touching is a big no-go for Pukey,” He says and I fight back a small smile. 

I turn my gaze back to the woman, “And your name?”

She smiles, “Sage. My name is Sage.”

No way. Not possible. Too easy. This can’t be Sage Sage. Finn’s Sage?!

“Rightttt,” I twiddle my thumbs trying to act casual, “And um how exactly do you know Damon?” “He used to be a student of mine.”

Damon smirks, “A longgggg time ago.”

Be casual Y/n. CASUAL.

“How old are you?”

Sage raises an amused brow, “Hasn’t anyone ever told you you should never ask a woman her age.”

“Well, I think that only applies to women who actually age,” I mutter and I see Damon roll his eyes. 

“I’m a little over 900 years old. But, who's counting,” Her response has my stomach flipping and I’m fighting the urge to test if I can do a backflip. IT IS HER.

I mean it’s got to be, right? There can’t be that many 900-year-old vampires named Sage.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Our attention is turned toward Bekah who joins us. An annoyed look is plastered on her face as she stares at Sage.

“Easy there Rebekah,” Damon chides, “She used to beat men for sport.”

“That’s a hobby I need to get into,” I remark and Sage sends me a smirk. 

“She always was quite common,” Rebekah says. Oh yikes.

“Rebekah, what a happy surprise,” Sage responds. 

“What are you doing here, Sage?”

“Well, I hear Finn was finally freed from that casket your rageaholic brother Klaus carted him around in.”

Ohhh. Yet another fan of my man. 

“I wouldn’t be too harsh on my brother in front of Y/n here. I’ve heard soulmates have a tendency to get quite prickly when their other half is insulted. Not that you’d know,” Rebekah smirks, and I cringe and silently curse at her as everyone’s attentions go to me. 

“I thought your name sounded familiar,” Sage eyes me and within a second Damon positions himself in front of me. 

“Touching Pukey is a death sentence, Sage. I would advise against it,” Damon eyes the woman and she rolls her own. 

“I’m not stupid enough to do that. But let’s be serious Damon I taught you everything you know. You can’t beat me.”

I position myself so I can see Damon’s face, “Oh, it’s not me you should be worried about. Yes, Pukey here is under my protection, but I’m not the one who would torture you until you're begging for your death. That falls upon…well let’s see,” He picks up his hand and starts counting on his fingers, “Klaus “The Great Evil” Mikeaelson, his noble brother Elijah, the annoying one Kol, Barbie over here, and last but not least your boy toy Finn. Along with all the other supernaturals of Mystic Falls.”

Sage looks from Damon to Bekah who just nods in agreement, “I hate to agree with the bastard but he’s telling the truth. Going against Y/n is going against the Mikaelsons.”

Sage clears her throat, “Well it’s a good thing I mean her no harm then.”

“Yep…sure is,” I mutter.

“Now where can I find Finn?”

“Probably somewhere forgetting all about you,” Rebekah remarks and then reaches over and wraps her arm in mind, “Come, I’ll buy us lunch.”

Before Bekah can fully pull me away I lean towards Sage, “Have Damon give you my number and I can help you.”

Sage’s eyebrows furrow but she still nods. 

—

Well, that was a bust. 

Rebekah canceled our lunch once she got into the car. After talking to Damon and Sage, Rebekah told me she had forgotten her coat and would meet me back at her car. But when she came back 10 minutes later she was more annoyed and volatile than usual, muttering something about Damon being a dick and other profanities. She apologized to me and said she’d have to rain-check our lunch date to a time when she didn’t feel like murdering everyone around her. I told her not to worry about it and that I wasn’t hungry.

I lied. I’m fucking starving and now I’m home looking at a bare fridge since my mother hasn’t gone grocery shopping in however long. I don’t want to have to go out and get something but at this point, it’s either go and deal with people at the grocery store or starve. 

Starving might be better.

  I grab my keys though when I realize that Theo still needs to eat dinner. I fling open the front door and- FUCK!

“Fuck me!”

“I’ve been trying, Luv.”

My eyes narrow and my cheeks warm as I stare at Klaus who is watching me with a soft smirk. 

“What the hell are you doing here,” I huff out and clutch my chest.

“Well, it’s good to see you as well,” The hybrid replies sarcastically. 

I give him a deadpan look and he rolls his eyes.

“My dear sister told me she had to cancel lunch with you so I thought I would ask you if you would accompany me instead.”

I feel a small smile make its way onto my face, “Are you asking me on a date?”

Klaus eyes me for a moment before turning his attention to the chipping white paint of the front door frame.

“I suppose.”

“Damn, don’t sound too excited,” I mutter sarcastically.

Klaus huffs and looks back at me, “That’s not what I…I just meant that” A look of frustration comes over his face while I watch in amusement.

“For being as old as you are you would think you’d be better at this whole date thing,” I smirk at him. 

“Well none of the ones before ever mattered the way you do,” Klaus seems to respond without thinking. 

I wring my hands and Klaus and I eye each other for a moment before I look away.

“Well, sadly I can’t go out for lunch since my fantastic mother seems to have forgotten to get any groceries for our house. Which means once again I have to go out and get them myself.”

A wave of sadness washes over me and I look to see Klaus’ shoulders drop slightly.

` “But…if you want to come,” I point towards my car, “Shopping with me. I could always have your super strength carry the bags.”

I doubt a one-thousand-year-old hybrid wants to spend his afternoon grocery shopping when he has enemies to fight and-

“I’ll come.”

—

“Princess, I’m immortal and yet with the way you’re driving I fear for my life,” Klaus’ voice comes out sarcastically but with the way I can see him frantically eyeing the road from his position in the passenger seat, I don’t think he’s joking.

I press my foot on the gas as I pass an old woman in a red Ford, “You’re being dramatic. Look we’re here.”

Forgetting my blinker, I whip my car into the small grocery store parking lot and slam it into park. 

“See we’re here,” I turn to smile at Klaus but I find him staring wide-eyed at me.

“Is this how you drive all the time?”

I shrug, take the keys out of the ignition, and open my door, “I’ve got places to be, why would I wait in traffic?”

Klaus gets out of the car as well and meets me at the trunk as we begin to walk into the small grocery store, “You passed 4 cars in a 10-minute drive.”

“They were going too slow.”

“You were going 20 over the speed limit,” Klaus’ frustrated voice makes me laugh.

Klaus is quiet for a moment as we reach the automatic door. I turn to him and question and it takes him a second to snap out of whatever stupor he was in.

“What was that all about,” I ask as I grab a cart and lean the front of my body on it.

“Nothing,” Klaus denies as we pass an elderly couple arguing over bananas, “I just don’t get to hear your laugh very often.”

I shrug and smirk at him as we approach the produce section, “Ever think it might just be because you’re not as funny as you think you are?”

“Nope,” Klaus says as he grabs a produce bag and hands it to me. 

“Of course not.”

` The bickering couple and the overhead music of an old pop song are the only things heard as I put different fruits and vegetables into plastic bags as Klaus follows behind me. Every time one of my bags gets full Klaus is right there with another. I stare at the cart momentarily and nod.

“I think that's all for produce,” Klaus walks beside me, looks down at the cart, and nods as well. 

“What next?”

I stop for a moment and look up at the man everyone else in this town is terrified of and laugh under my breath before turning back towards the cart, pushing it towards the dairy section.

“What was that,” Klaus points a finger at me.

“I just find this funny,” I say simply.

“Find what funny?”

“You,” I grab a gallon of milk when we hit the aisle, “Being here. Grocery shopping. Everyone else in this town is probably trying to plan your demise and here you are shopping for 2% Low-fat milk,” I say as I put the milk in the cart. 

“Well, personally I prefer 1%,” His sarcastic reply has me shaking my head, “And yes I know your little friends our out there planning my great demise but…until my death is imminent, which it isn’t if domestic shopping is what you and I do together than,” He grabs a bottle of $3 wine off the shelf and glances at it for a moment before cringing in disgust and putting it back, “Than that’s what we shall do.”

I think about his words as we walk through the store and grab other items, from cereal to pasta, and random snacks, and from time to time, Klaus will throw in his own items. 

I lift on my tip toes as I try to grab the sauce can that is on the very top shelf. I hear Klaus mutter a laugh from behind me before I feel his hand place itself on my upper waist to move me out of the way.

“Is it really that hard for you to ask for help,” He comments as he grabs the can with ease and places it into the cart. 

“Yes.”

Klaus rolls his eyes but the ghost of a smile on his lips tells me he was already certain of what my answer would be. 

I turn back towards the cart and sigh, “I think that’s it.”

Klaus nods and follows behind me as we walk towards the checkout line.

—

“Oh come on, Theo!”

I growl and Klaus, who is putting all the groceries from the cart and onto the checkout stand instantly looks up.

“What’s wrong?”

“Theo just asked me to get his stupid gummy worms,” I look at the cashier clerk, who is slowly ringing in each item, and then look to Klaus. 

“Can you-”

“Go,” Is all he says and I’m running towards the candy aisle to find Theo’s stupid ass gummies. 

After way too long I find them squished in between some chocolate and peanuts and run back towards the checkout line where the clerk is giving Klaus a dirty look, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care. 

I look at all our bagged groceries and swear under my breath, giving the gummies to the clerk.

“Sorry for the hold-up,” I apologize and I hear a scratchy laugh from behind me. 

I turn to see the old woman and man from before waiting in line behind us. She smiles thoughtfully as she leans towards me. 

“You’ve got a good man here,” She points to Klaus who is clearly pretending not to eavesdrop, “She kept telling him he had to pay and you’d just have to go back at the end of the line but he wouldn’t budge.”

I turn to look at Klaus but frown when I see him swipe his card through the reader.

“Dude!”

Klaus punches in his pin and just shrugs, “You’re friend over there is still talking to you.”

“He even pays for you,” I turn back to the woman who is looking dreamily at Klaus and if she were 50 years younger I’d probably fight her for looking at him that way. Might still now.

“I have to drag my old bastard here by the ear just to get him up in the morning, let alone to the store with me,” She points to the man beside her who rolls his eyes before placing a kiss on her cheek.

“Love you too, My Everly,” The man says as he puts their groceries on the stand. And even though the woman tries to play it tough the look of love and admiration she has in her eyes gives her true feelings away. 

“Married for 47 years and he still knows how to get on every one of my nerves,” She mutters lovingly, “Make sure to keep that one though. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a man look at a woman the way he does to you. When you have something like that child, grab it and don’t let go. And it helps that he’s quite easy on the eyes.”

I nod and bid her goodbye. I turn to Klaus who is waiting by the entrance of the store with our bagged groceries and a knowing look on his face.

“Have a good chat?”

“Oh shut up,” I mutter as I punch him in the shoulder.

“I am easy on the eyes aren’t I?”

Klaus smirks to himself while sighing, “You Mikaelsons need to work on your egos. I swear to God.”

“All of our egos are very much healthy and intact, thank you very much.”

“Ya…that’s the problem.”

—

“Cans go in that shelf over there, Klaus,” I point to the middle shelf right in front of Klaus and he nods, putting the cans of vegetables into the cabinet. 

We got back home 20 minutes ago and after Klaus helped me lug all the groceries in, the ones he paid for, he then just started unloading them and placing them into cabinets and the fridge. It’s been almost comical to watch Klaus’ tall frame try to maneuver around in my tiny kitchen, but somehow he’s managed. 

“Remind me to buy you a bigger house,” I hear him mutter and I laugh.

“Yes, please do. And make sure it has a big ass library,” I point at him, “Oh! And I want one of those built-in window chairs, so I can read while seeing the stars at night,” I nod at him jokingly but as I stare at the look on his face I freeze.

“That was a joke, Klaus. I know what you’re thinking,” I put my finger in his face and he gives me an innocent look, “Don’t you dare buy me a house. I’ve come to learn how you Mikaelsons like to throw your money around and I don’t want any part of it.”

Klaus gives me an upside-down smile and nods.

“Oh! That reminds me,” I grab the last grocery bag and start dumping out the contents, “Remind me to give your brother back the expensive ass jewelry he gave me for the ball.”

Klaus grabs a loaf of bread and places it in the bread box, “Good luck with that, Luv. My brother can be more stubborn than I am when it comes to you.”

I put a hand on my hip, “Elijah? Stubborn? I highly doubt that.”

The kitchen is quiet for a moment before a loud laugh comes out of Klaus’ mouth. I pause what I’m doing and find myself smiling as I watch the pretty man in front of me. 

“Luv,” Klaus manages to get out between laughs, “The only reason you haven’t seen that side of my older brother is because he hasn’t let you…or really doesn’t want you to see that side of him. Don’t get me wrong, Elijah is noble,” Klaus rolls his eyes, “Annoyingly so. But he is also the pettiest being I have come across in over a thousand years. There is no one I know that will play dirtier than him when it comes to protecting the people he cares about. And you luv,” Klaus takes a step closer to me so he can reach out to grab a piece of my hair and twirl it between his fingers, “Are at the top of his list of loved ones.”

—-

“Well this was almost not horrible,” I tell Klaus as I walk him to the front door. 

Klaus snorts sarcastically, “And that was almost a compliment. You and I are making great progress.”

I roll my eyes and open the door for him and his smirk drops, “But in all honesty, Y/n… I-,” Klaus pauses as if he’s having a hard time trying to find the words.

“Me too Klaus. Thank you for coming with me today. It was nice not having to do it by myself like usual.”

Klaus smiles, “You know I could always hire someone to do your shopping for you.”

I raise an eyebrow, “You mean compel someone?”

Klaus’ upper lip quirks, “I never said that.”

I tilt my head, “You didn’t need to.”

Klaus rolls his eyes playfully before shrugging, “Well whenever you get tired of mundane shopping let me know, Luv.”

“Goodbye, Klaus,” I push him outside and he lets me.

“Goodbye, Luv.”

—

“Who is this?”

I pad around the kitchen with my bowl of ice cream as I answer an unknown call.

“Sage. Damon’s friend from earlier. You told me to get your number from him,” The feminine voice makes my eyes widen and I place my ice cream down on the counter.

“Oh! Hi! How are you?”

“Um, I’m alright. How are you,” Her tone comes out slightly confused. 

“Eh, eating ice cream. What can I help you with Sage?”

“Finding my beloved, Finn.”

Oh, shit ya. 

“Oh right, ya me and Finn and tight. He’s been waiting for you,” I say as I take a spoonful of ice cream and put it into my mouth.

“He has,” The hopefulness in her voice makes me smile.

“Umhm. And you didn’t hear this from me but he thinks you are his soulmate.”

Sage is quiet for a moment, “I know he’s mine. Will you help me find him?”

“Ya, sure when do you want to meet?”

“Now?”

Her rushed tone makes me pause and look at my fluffy bunny slippers, PJ shorts and my “I Heart my Turtle” shirt.

“It’s 10 pm?”

“Yes, I know… please Y/n, I’ve waited 900 years for this moment. I can’t wait another second.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, “Um ya sure…I’ll text you my address.”

—-

“You’re not going to try to kill me right?”

Sage, who stands at the front of my door raises an eyebrow, “If I even thought about causing you harm Klaus and Elijah would be here in under a minute ripping me to shreds.”

I nod. Good Point.

“Come in.”

Sage takes a hesitant step over the threshold and into my small entryway.

“Your house is…”

I roll my eyes, “What? Quaint?”

“Homey,” Sage smiles softly, “It looks like a home,” She takes off her jacket and holds it in her arms, “The only thing that kept me going after Klaus daggered my Finn was the hope that one day he and I could have something like this… something that we could call our home.”

I fight the urge to let out a loud “awww.”

“Well then, we shouldn’t keep Finn waiting,” I grab my jacket and place it over my PJ shirt.

“Wait…”

I turn at Sage’s voice and my stomach drops when I see the guilty look on her face.

“Please tell me you're not actually going to kill me,” I raise my hands up in a fighting stance and she shakes her head.

“No, but… you’re helping me out of the kindness of your heart so I have to admit something to you…”

I stand there completely quiet and still as she goes on to tell me the information she’s done tonight. From having a threesome with Damon and Bekah (gross) to going into Bekah’s mind to learn that Wickery Bridge was actually made from the same tree that the white oak came from and that if the Salvatore’s got a hold of it they’d kill the Mikaelsons. 

“So…what do we do?”

Sage shakes her head, “I don’t know.”

We stand there in silence for a moment before a Theo-level-bad-idea comes to my mind, “I’m going to propose something. But if the cops show up you’re compelling us out of there.”

Sage gives me a worried look. 

—

“Ok,” I put my hands on Sage’s shoulders and positioned her in the doorway out of sight, “You stay here and I’ll go get him. When I tell you to come in, you can.”

Sage eyes my hands, “I thought you had a thing about touch? And also why can’t I just come in with you now?” I shrug, “1. After what we just did, I’d say we bonded so I feel like our relationship has progressed, and also I’m touching you over your clothes…it’s skin-to-skin that irks me. And 2. Obviously for dramatic effect.”

I excitedly turn around and whip open the front door to the Mikaelson Mansion, catching the last of Sage muttering something about me fitting right in with the Mikaelsons.

“PHINEAS!!!”

“Bloody hell, Little Doll,” A sarcastic British voice has me rolling my eyes, “We’re all immortal here. No need for the yelling.”

I turn and meet Kol’s brown eyes. 

“My bad. Wheres Finn?”

“Elskan?”

“Is that Y/n?”

“Luv, miss me already?”

Elijah, Bekah, and Klaus all enter the foyer with combined looks of confusion, whilst Kol is approaching me with an amused look on his face.

“And what’s with the outfit? You have a turtle?”

I shake my head, “No.”

Kol just frowns.

Elijah, still dressed in his suit even though it’s past midnight, hastily approaches me, “Elskan what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“Chill, Elijah,” I smile at him which seems to make him relax a bit, “I’m good. I fulfilling a duty I have for your brother.”

“For me,” Klaus’ annoying smirk is plastered on his face as his eyes roam my body. 

“No,” I glare at him and point to my face, “And my face is up here.”

Klaus smiles but turns his attention back to my face.

“Y/N?”

My attention turns towards the top of the stairs where Finn is now standing and I have the fight the urge to ruin the surprise right now.

“I have something for you Finn,” I bounce on the heels of my toes and he descends the grand staircase.

“For me?”

Finn’s unsure look only makes me more excited as I nod my head hastily. 

“You can come out now,” I call behind me and all the Mikaelson instantly tense up, probably thinking it’s a threat.

I don’t even have to look behind me to know Sage has entered the room because I’m looking at the utterly bewildered look on Finn’s face.

“Sage? Is that you?”

Finn takes slow steps closer to Sage and I.

“It’s me, Finn… I’ve missed you so much,” As soon as Sage says that Finn is running to embrace her. 

I feel my cheeks start to hurt from smiling so hard as I watch the couple kiss, embrace, and, share quiet words with one another.

“You did this?”

I look away to find Elijah at my side with a soft expression on his face.

I nod and look back at the couple, “At the ball Finn and I talked and I told him I’d help him find Sage. I wasn’t exactly sure how I was going to do it… but she kinda just showed up thankfully. Not that Finn needs to know the last part,” I whisper to Elijah.

Elijah doesn’t respond which makes me turn back to him. Once again he has the earth-shattering look in his eyes that makes my knees feel like they’re going to buckle.

“Why are you looking at me like that,” I mutter as I try to go back to looking at Sage and Finn so I don’t have to look at him.

“Because I love you.”

Oh. 

OH.

I whip my head back towards Elijah so fast I think I might’ve pulled something and stare at him wide-eyed. 

“Nuh-uh.”

Elijah’s eyebrows furrow but his lip twitches letting me know he’s finding my reaction entertaining, “Nuh uh?”

“Ya, nuh uh?”

“Well, I do.” 

“Nope.”

Elijah lets out a soft sigh, “You’ll accept the love I have for you one day…but even if today isn’t that day I want you to know it. That I do.”

I side-eye the man standing next to me bite down hard on my lip and nod. 

“Hold up,” Kol’s annoying voice pierces the air breaking everyone from their conversations. 

“What now, Kol?”

I would laugh at Klaus’ annoyed tone if it weren’t for the state of shock I’m currently in.

“Why do the two of you smell like gasoline?”

Everyone in the rooms stops, and I watch as they smell the air and then turn to Sage and I. Sage turns to me though with a raised eyebrow. 

“Breaking News,” The loud voice of a newscaster comes from the living room beside us, “Mystic Falls historic Wickery Bridge, has been burned down. Police and firefighters are currently at the scene. Was this a natural fire or something more criminal? When we find out you’ll be the first to know. This is Margot Fell reporting live from Channel 9 news.”

I blink and blow out a low breath as I turn back to the Mikaelsons who already have their eyes glued on me. 

“Sooo, Sage and I have something to tell you.”

[mayashesfly]

THIS IS TRAFFICSHIPPING NOT GENERAL SHIPPING VOTE FOR TREEBARK

Treebark had changed the history of Traffic Life forever, being one of The Iconic Red-Green Duos in Third Life like Desert Duo and Flower Husbands. The Red King is the first time someone willing became Red for his allies. And Martyn is the one that brought the Evo Watcher lore into Traffic Life for the silly <33

I said I'll make a list of Treebark moments throughout the entire life series, so I shall deliver. (sprinkled with some of my symbolism, parallels, and whatnots thoughts. Do note that I have yet to finish Ren's DL and WL POV so this is probably mostly in Martyn's POV. I also have audhd so being organized is not my specialty)

THIRD LIFE

Their alliance is established through debt repayment just like Desert Duo's. They made the deal underneath Renchanting while hiding away from Phantoms.

The first thing Ren gave to Martyn is a stone axe :)

When Martyn told Ren that he was planning to go to the dangerous Nether, Ren wasn't that bothered by it and calmly told him to get blaze rods. ….as well as wither skeleton skulls. Which instantly made Martyn turn around and chuckle at the idea of more chaos. (Idk why but I'm so certain something like this happened to Desert Duo as well, one of them enabling the other's chaotic nature)

When the villagefolk started prodding Ren how they could just get enchantments without making a trade, Martyn tried his hardest to put on some pressure. Blocking the door with dirt, then obsidian, and then dunking Cleo underneath Renchanting. After that happened, Martyn noted that he heard Ren shed a tear during the situation and while Ren tried to repair relationships, Martyn went off and got Bad Omen so they have a card to use against the villagefolk.

After the Pizza fiasco and admitting to Martyn that he maybe shared too much information in order to keep friends, Ren laments in Renchanting how he might've just lost Martyn while he lays in bed by himself, cursing the fact he blabbed about that stupid llama!

Meanwhile Martyn made the Enderchest where he was supposed to put his base at until he got wrapped up with Ren, putting a preemptive sorry to Ren for lying….. but also still keeping the Enderchest at the same coords that all it would take is Ren digging around to find it if he was really that desperate.

When Ren got his crown, he and Martyn talked about how if they were the last two left, they would fight each other honorably. No armor, no weapons, kung fu fighting until the sun sets. And both of them agrees with a smile as they stand side by side.

Ren continues to expand and grow Renchanting into Dogwarts, upgrading the buildings and the villagers. Meanwhile Martyn runs around, securing resources for the both of them to bring it back to Dogwarts.

Ren being estatic to share to Martyn every time he makes a good deal.

Whenever there's an intruder, Ren handles communications, making sure to keep Martyn in mind and putting his foot down for his friends. While Martyn stays on the high ground, securing the perimeter and keeping an eye on Ren, dropping a gapple for him just in case.

When Ren became Yellow and Scar punched him off the cliff, Martyn quickly slashed Scar and dropped down to chase him the instant someone said it was Scar's fault. He saw Red, literally did not blink as he chased Scar. His eye only twitched when Scott commented how Martyn was going to kill Scar. But it was only when Ren said his name, reminding him that hey had to go back to Dogwarts, to go back home, that Martyn finally blinked and stopped chasing Scar. Quickly turning his back so he could escort his king back home.

Whenever Ren needed resources, Martyn always provides. Emeralds? I got you my king. The Heart of Renchanting? I have the enchanting table right here! You don't have to worry, I have everything you need.

Even when Martyn requested rest after Ren tells him his plans, the next scene, Martyn is at Dare to Flare in order to win his king some new feather falling diamond boots.

And now The Beheading at Black Heart Altar.

"Essentially, don't be too nervous my dude. It's just a casual test of loyalty"

Ren, despite being the kinder of the two, willing sacrificed his life so that he could finally protect his kingdom. He wore the heavy responsibility of being a Red name for Martyn.

After The Beheading, Ren punched Martyn in his unmentionables, allowing Martyn to kill Ren and take the kingdom for himself if he wanted to.

But he can't.

"No! I won't do it! You took me in, when I was nothing. I learned there was nothing in this world for me – nothing but walls, corners, edges. And you know what? You showed me life. As much as I’ve taken it from you, you gave it back to me in buckets’ fulls. This is us now. This is us."

The full moon shined upon them while Martyn slayed Phantoms to protect his King. ("I like the phantoms. They feel familiar, they feel like home" VH)

The Beheading is where their alliance truly solidified as Martyn takes Ren to the Enderchest, admitting what he did. And instead of being upset, Ren laughs. Understanding Martyn's reasoning during that time as they easily pushed that problem away and stuck together.

Martyn always runs in to help Ren, using a bucket of water to put out the flames. Trying to pour a bucket of lava on Cleo as she tried to kill Ren.

Ren calling out Martyn's name as he saw him fall into the lava moat.

Martyn needlessly chases Scar around to get the stolen Dogwarts flag back, devoted to regain his king's honor. So much so that Martyn would've died once if Ren didn't step up and shielded him.

But then Martyn gets seperated by himself and he dies on the way home as he calls out Ren's name.

Ren protects Martyn, killing off their enemies while Martyn was still Yellow, still unable to kill by himself.

When the blood became too much for Ren to handle, he calls to Martyn for comfort. Begging him to hug him, and Martyn did, as they lament together their loss of innocence and a simple peaceful dream.

When Ren died, Martyn turned back around, shedding a tear as he couldn't move away from his place in his grief. And so he dies in his own home with Ren.

This was the moment that broke Martyn. His soul fragmenting underneath his eye where he shed a tear over losing Ren. A permanent mark that even carries over prominently to another version of Martyn.

The ghosts of Martyn and Ren not accepting Grian and Scar's double victory. Urging them to kill each other so one could be crowned the winner just like what Ren and Martyn wanted for their last fight that the Desert Duo stole from them.

No armor, no weapons.

Only a fist fight to the death.

The words of Ren and Martyn being the final ones in chat as Grian falls to his death.

LAST LIFE

Martyn gives Ren netherwarts in secret even though Martyn already has another alliance, allowing Ren to secure a life and his own alliance in the Fairy Fort.

When Ren failed to set up a business, he set fire around him. But the only two people that was around that time backed away from him.

But when Ren set fire around him again around Martyn, Martyn quickly sprung into action and doused the flames, confused and concerned at what Ren was doing.

When Martyn sees Ren in his wooden tower, he imitates Ren's outro just like how he imitates Mumbo's. (They do say imitation is the best form of flattery)

And the moment Ren spots Martyn? Ren sets fire to his tower in the middle of the server making Martyn runs towards him regardless of how far away to save him.

After the fire was out, Ren and Martyn talked to one another like no time passed at all. Ren talking about how he got an alliance, and having a laugh when he discovered he got the netherwarts from Martyn.

Ren is the only person Martyn told about how many lives he has. Not even the Southlands knew.

Ren plays the part of a loyal knight in the Fairy Fort. Being vigilant, staying on the highground when there's an intruder, providing nether resources… He has everything his Queen needs.

Just like how Martyn had all he needed back in Third Life.

Ren even makes the Shadow base in a natural moatage and added stone walls just like how Dogwarts was in a natural moatage with stone walls. This time around though, he had learned. And so the Shadow base had a smaller wall, the edges lined with berry bushes and cactus instead of wheat and carrots, the basement more hidden than apparent.

Martyn made a fart joke with Ren while they were discussing the Shadows underneath the full moon. So now Ren made Martyn's Shadow name ShadowFart <3

Ren's Shadow name is ShadowHound. (And The Watchers also call him The Hound)

When Ren was talking to Lizzie about a secret ally they had in the South, Lizzie instantly clocked in that it must Martyn.

When Jimmy tried to steal Martyn's extra life. The secret code in the lore bit makes "FOR REN", revealing that Martyn was saving his extra life for Ren only.

And Martyn gave his extra life to Ren indeed, making them equals.

When Martyn lost Jimmy and Mumbo and his mind because Grian killed them, he ran towards Ren for comfort. Returning to a home Ren made as they became true allies again.

When Ren saw Martyn at the Shadow base, he instantly perked up and went towards him. Telling Etho they can trust him without a second thought.

When Ren became Red, Cleo said to Martyn that she knows he and Ren are probably going to team up and betray them because Ren.

At the final three, Ren instantly turned around when he heard Martyn's voice call out to him. Running towards him instantly despite this being a free for all.

When Martyn died, he laments the fact they could've worked together to take down Scott. Ren trying to kill Scott with a bucket of lava for a few times.

DOUBLE LIFE

Despite Martyn being alone, he still goes to Box to talk with Ren and BigB frequently.

Ren giving Martyn the carrots he asked for without a question.

When the Warden was awoken, Ren called out Martyn's name as they tried to escape. Martyn responding and guiding him towards the exit.

Ren happily helps Martyn when Martyn asked him to distract Cleo.

Martyn easily goes along with Ren's antics while he waxed poetry that Pearl might be a demonness even though the two of them are in the Ancient City (and it's just been revealed that talking while not crouching will trigger the sculk sensors now)

The two of them then go off to do the "Croak the frog, burn the log, pet the dog" ritual for multiple minutes to summon Pearl and invite her into the Broken Hearts Club.

Martyn and Ren taking damage at the same time while Ren says the words "tying the bond" as if they were soulbound.

Even though Ren was Red, Martyn wasn't afraid when Ren emerged from the pool. The two of them talking to one another as usual as they both sit beside the pool, using f4 so they could see each other as they talked.

And when Ren told Martyn he should stay away from the pool later on, Martyn happily helps Ren out by going around the server and inviting people to the pool party.

Ren said outloud how tempted he was to shoot Martyn off the dirt bridge as if he was warning Martyn of the danger in case he couldn't stop himself.

He didn't shoot Martyn off regardless.

Ren's last words "We had honor to defend, we were loyal to the end" being very Dogwarts-like.

(The Red Army ended when they all decided to march into Dogwarts with Ren despite knowing it was a losing battle. Martyn defended Ren's honor as much as he can, holding up the shield of the Red Army as he dies inside of Dogwarts with Ren)

For the entire season, Martyn didn't have a true home. Only an art installation, because he hoped Cleo would've taken him in. (Just like Grian's wooden egg in Wild Life)

Their last conversation was Martyn talking to Ren about getting the lease on Box when he dies.

And he got the lease on Box indeed. Inheriting the empty home Ren helped build.

The so-called wanderer always finding himself going home in Ren's base at the end. Just like Third Life, just like Last Life.

And Martyn says inside the Bleeding Heart Bastion that he misses being dramatic with Ren now that he's gone before setting up a trap to blow it up. ("I have friends now" Grian says as he gleefully burns the egg. But Martyn doesn't have any left)

LIMITED LIFE

Martyn turns Red during his birthday and ties the Dogwarts flag around his waist even though Ren was gone this season.

An Unguided Hand, a fleeting gill.

^^^THIS WHOLE FUCKING THING^^^

The way he stopped himself from the saying the Ren's name too.

"No armor, no shield, we're gonna fist fight like our forefathers, Scar and Grian" Scott says.

But that fistfight wasn't Scar and Grian's idea. It was Ren and Martyn's.

It was Ren and Martyn who was supposed to be there and Scar stole it from them. Just like how he stole their banner and enchanting table before burning it right in front of their ghosts' eyes and starting the fist fight.

Ren gave Martyn buckets' fulls of life, and now he's gone.

And so, he spills the bucket of lava on Scott, killing and betraying him in one fell swoop.

He's not going to do it in their way, this is a deathmatch for a reason.

The Dogwarts flag fly in the air at the end of the game as Martyn won.

The last scene Martyn sees as his life flashes before his eyes as his time counted down being Ren at Black Heart Altar.

His fragment this season being on the Hand. Though it was protected.

SECRET LIFE

He's literally a Big Dog this season.

And when he lost Jimmy and Mumbo to Grian again after just getting Mumbo to join the Big Dogs like they were back in the Southlands, Martyn seethes silently.

Calling himself The Hound of Hell.

Ren isn't here anymore after all. He can't run to Ren after losing his Southlanders again.

There's not another home he can return to so that he doesn't have to stay in an empty house with the reminders of Jimmy and Mumbo's ghosts.

He can't.

And then Scar, all alone this season just like Martyn after losing Jimmy and Mumbo says, "Don't you just love Greens and Reds just having a fun time together?"

Two people from The Iconic Red-Green Duos. All alone.

Scar, who used to be Red in Third Life, still Green but might as well be Red due to his tasks. And Martyn, who used to be Green in Third Life, now Red but his tasks pale in comparison to Gem's despite his thirst for blood.

Ironic, isn't it?

And now, the fragment Martyn gains is around his neck.

Just like the scar that crowned the Red King.

WILD LIFE

God where the fuck do I start?

Martyn rows into the sunrise with Ren without a single thought. Sticking to one person from day one.

Ren calling their home in the flower field Renwood Mound, keeping Martyn in the name unlike in Third Life because he wants to try. (And yet he still slips and calls it Ren Mound...)

Ren saying that he's here to cleanse the evil in Martyn's heart.

Ren laughing and saying lightheartedly how Martyn made it hard to improve their reputation.

Ren asking Martyn what role he has in this session.

The two of them gleeful that eating flowers grants wonderful effects as the spring has come.

Martyn joking with Ren on his plans for their base this session, because somehow it ends up not working out in their favor for that week's Wild Card.

Ren looking at Martyn lovingly as the sun sets behind him.

Martyn and Ren having a domestic fight due to both of them building their highly flammable watchtowers in the wrong direction. Facing each other instead of facing away.

But they don't take it down regardless.

After all, wasn't Renchanting made of wood too?

Ren and Martyn working together like clockwork without a single exchanged word to kill Gem so Ren can gain a life.

And it worked.

Ren asking Martyn if they ever got married in Third Life and Martyn responding "I mean, I did cut your head off, if that counts?" as if The Beheading was a marriage ceremony for them both. ("Well, the fandom thinks you did" Cleo says)

Martyn and Ren looking at each other at the distance and imitating each other.

When Renwood Mound burned down, Ren calls their base InTheLittleLake. Their base's namesake being only Martyn now, an inverse of Renchanting and Dogwarts.

While Ren was talking about how there's smooching going on all over the place and how inappropriate it is, Martyn jumped closer to him and asked "Why aren't we smooching?" Before catching himself and looking away from Ren in embarrassment.

Remember how Ren said he was here to cleanse the evil in Martyn's soul? Yeah, scratch that.

Ren egged Martyn on to windcharge Skizz off the stone bridge.

"It was Ren's fault, that's my grovel"

But after Martyn tossed a tnt minecart towards Grian's direction, Scar locked the fuck in and didn't stop until he killed Martyn.

Martyn, who has the listening powers, deaf to danger as the Secret Life Winner finally pushes him into death.

(Tread carefully sound... For if we met, our gaze would bring untimely deaf)

Ren witnesses Martyn's death to Scar.

Shedding a tear and taking on Martyn's form as he ran, before Grian stabs him in the back and realizing it was Ren.

And when Ren sees Martyn again? Martyn didn't remember him or himself. He was just a number.

(It's quite funny how the person who is the namesake of their base is the one who dies to Scar and causes the other to break doesn't it? They can't have a base named after both of them…)

The next session, he became Martren.

Instead of thinking of Martren as the abomination he is, Ren happily talks about how they got Martyn into the finale and how Martren is the Power of Friendship as he takes every bit of Martyn he can, including his gear.

Zombie Martyn saying that one side of Martren looks cute. And even offering to kill him if he wanted as if there was still a part of Martyn deep inside that wanted to end Ren's misery.

Yet Ren holds onto Martyn even when it hurts.

"You can take the King away from the Hand but you can't take the Hand away from the King" Martyn thought in Limited Life.

But he was wrong.

Because even the King cannot live without the Hand.

And so, Martren loses and dies.

Because Ren cannot live without Martyn.

ROUND 3 | MATCH 1

[salemrph]

The Taste of Romance (Valentine’s Day)

Summary: What was meant to be a quiet Valentine’s Day with Sylus, making chocolate together, takes a turn when a mission interrupts: chasing down Heartbreaker.

Character: Sylus & Reader

Genre: romantic, fluffy, slightly action

Word count: 5,572 | Reading Time: 22 min | AO3

A/N: After today's banner, I just had to release this, because it's pretty much what I was expecting, something like this: A cute mission hunting Heartbreaker, with a super romantic outcome. Making chocolate and decorating a cake. And kisses, lots of them.

 {Pop Candy Song BGM}

You spent the last day searching for a good recipe online, strolling through pastries and sweets shops in Linkon. On the kitty cat calendar display on the wall of your kitchen, February 14th is marked with a little heart in red. Well, it is actually tomorrow. This is your third attempt making chocolates this week. You have everything you need: a box, sugar pens and flowers, gift wrap, strawberry and tons of other decorations stuff. Your idea is to create a special box, for a special gentleman that stole your heart, soul and body. 

Somehow you keep messing up with portions, you follow the instructions step by step, but always something goes wrong. The milk is too hot, too much sugar… you feel a bit like Xavier trying to not burn down your place. The other attendants were interrupted by an urgent mission, or you managed to drop the bowl or put in salt instead of sugar. 

The caw of Mephisto, sitting on the microwave, is a signal to stir the mixture. The bird can be useful even during moments like this. Mephisto seems even happy to help you out. Is strange how well you get along with him. Sometimes he gets on your nerves, especially when he steals all the shiny items you have. But you like him, and it's just as fun as fighting with Luke and Kieran.This little crow family you've joined, despite their “evil” aura, are all good people. And no one can convince you otherwise. Come to thinking of it, maybe you should make choco popcake for the twins. Giving chocolate to the mechanical crow… You stare at Mephisto, who cocks his head in response to your piercing gaze. No… You shake your head. Not a good idea. 

The kitchen smelled of rich, melted chocolate, the warmth of it mixing with the familiar comfort of home. You had been carefully stirring the glossy mixture, completely absorbed in your task, when—

"What are you doing, sweetie?"

The deep sexy voice of your boyfriend makes you hitch. If you were a real cat you would have jumped, fur bristling and tail puffed in alarm. Surely hiding yourself on top of the kitchen cabinet. Although your Hunter senses are exceptional, being at home you usually lower your guard. Your heart jumps and you almost drop the bowl, again…

"I told you to stay out of the kitchen" you huffed, turning to glare at Sylus.

He leaned lazily against the counter, arms crossed, that ever-present smirk tugging at his lips. "Yeah, but I didn’t agree to that. Besides, where should I hide in this small apartment?" 

“Why are you here in the first place? I told you I was busy” you hide the bowl behind your back. Actually the kitchen is a mess, opened packages of chocolates scattered across the counter, the strawberries you had bought are still in their cold water bath. You’re a good cook, decent at baking, but working with chocolate? That is another topic. For the occasion, when you were buying all your supplies for this mission, you bought yourself a very cute apron. Which you are wearing right now to prevent staining your outfit. Underneath it, you wear comfy shorts and a white t-shirt.

“A certain kitten ignored me all week, so I decided to drop by and spend some time with her.” His lips curve into a slow smirk. “But somehow, I ended up banned from the kitchen, and Mephisto got demoted to a kitchen clock.” His voice drips with mock offense, but the way he watches you, eyes sweeping over your domestic outfit examining you slowly from top to bottom… Tells you he’s more entertained than anything, the amusement literally dancing in his eyes.

The small apron snug around your waist and chest, the loose strands of hair slipping free from your high ponytail, the way your oversized t-shirt shifts when you fidget under his stare. You’re a mess. Flustered and completely unaware of just how lovely you look. Sylus smiles, noticing that you’re definitely not wearing a bra. It might just be his lucky day.

He exhales a quiet chuckle, stepping closer. His gaze moves to the bowl behind your back, curiosity flashing behind the red glowing eyes.

"So… what exactly are you doing?”

You meet his gaze with a sly smile, tilting your head just slightly. "I’m preparing poison."

His smirk deepened. "Poison? Sweetie, if you wanted to kill me, there are easier ways."

Before you could react, he stepped in, closing the distance in a way that made your pulse stutter. His body caged you against the counter, warmth radiating off him. His attention goes down to the spoon still in your hand, his fingers grazing your wrist as he tilted his head in amusement.

"What kind of poison will it be?" he murmured, voice low and teasing.

Your breath hitched, you felt a little nervous again but you held your ground. "The kind you can’t separate from normal food."

Sylus hummed. In a swift motion, he plucked the spoon from your grasp, bringing it to his lips without breaking eye contact. His tongue flicked against the chocolate before he tasted it, a low, satisfied hum vibrating in his throat.

"Hmm… dangerous" he mused, licking the remnants from the spoon. Your stomach flipped, heat rising to your cheeks as his free hand settled on your waist. "Should I be worried, sweetie?" he teased, his lips dangerously close to yours, chocolate lingering on his breath.

“Always" you whispered, barely able to focus with the way he was looking at you. Sylus laughed softly, his fingers tightening slightly on your waist as he leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against yours—just enough to make you chase the touch.

He lifts you onto the counter, his smirk never fading as he leans in, his lips still hovering, teasing you. Just as you think he'll kiss you, he pulls back, holding up the spoon coated with the last traces of chocolate.

“Lick” he ordered softly. You hesitate, eyes flickering between the spoon and his glowing red eyes. “For poison, it tastes good” he jokes. 

Without breaking eye contact, you slowly drag your tongue along the spoon, savoring the rest of the dark mixture. Sylus inhales sharply, his pupils darkening as his grip on your thigh tight. His cock getting harder by the second. You can feel the shift in the air, the tension between you two raising. When you finish, he titles his head slightly, his gaze dropping to your lips. “Messy kitten” he says low, brushing his thumb along the corner of your mouth spotted with sweetness. 

Before he can lean in again—

Bip bip bip!!! Your hunter watch shatters the moment. Your groan as your head falls back. You've got to be kidding me. You click your tongue in irritation. Sylus exhales sharply, his fingers flexing against your thigh before he pulls away entirely. The warmth of his body vanishes, replaced by the cold reality of duty. He leans back against the counter, crossing his arms, you can tell he's annoyed as much as you are.

Between his businesses and your jobs, having this moment is almost rare. You managed to video call, send each other messages and you try as much as possible to be with him. Now for Valentine's Day you requested two free days, so you could finish the box with strawberries and chocolate. 

You shoot him a glare before tapping the watch, the holographic interface lighting up with an incoming mission briefing. Your free day is gone. Just like that. You sigh, already slipping off the counter.

Priority Alert: Hunter (Y/N) Required. Immediate Deployment. Target—Wanderer: Heartbreaker.

You scroll through the report, brows furrowing. "It’s… been messing with couples. Destroying their date spots, ruining chocolate shipments, even sabotaging proposals." You pause. "Wow. It's really committed.”

Sylus lets out a dry chuckle. "So, you're going to hunt a depressed little menace who hates love?”

"I hope it's not as slippery as Pumpkin Magnus. This is serious.” 

Running after that Wanderer near to New Year was exhausting. At least you had fun during the event. The lantern you made together is still hanging at his base. 

“Because nothing screams ‘deadly mission’ like chasing that thing before it cancels Valentine’s Day.” 

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the small laugh that slips out. "Come on, we need to move.”

you prompt as you start grabbing your gear, moving to your bedroom to change into your uniform. Sylus seems to be a bit out of track. 

“We?" He raises an eyebrow. He follows you, not wanting to miss how you change. "I don’t remember signing up for this mission." He's distracted when you reveal your body, pulling your T-shirt over your head. He knew it, no bra today. His dick is still half hard. Sylus wanted so badly to have you that evening. Making you whimper his name, seeing you getting all sweaty and naughty. Kissing your belly, worshiping you in all senses. His plans were crushed in a moment. You glance at him over your shoulder, half naked grabbing your uniform from the chair. 

"Please. You always end up involved in my missions one way or another.” You move quickly. 

He leans against the doorframe, watching you with open amusement. "That’s different. Also I was busy with something else before someone’s annoying watch ruined the evening.”

You huff. "Well, if you're not coming, I’ll just—”

"Did I say I wasn’t coming?" His voice is smooth, teasing. 

If he can't have fun with your body then at least he would accompany you through this little adventure. Spending time with you is always fun and it doesn't really matter what you two are doing. 

Later in the city

“This the last spot where Heartbreaker was seen” you close the file on your watch. The park is quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the winter sun. The lake stretches out before you, its surface rippling slightly under the breeze, reflecting the bright light of the evening. A few boats remain docked, swaying gently, their chains clinking against the wooden posts. Mephisto is scanning the area, flying over the park.

“The last couple attacked was right here. Their boat capsized, and they both ended up breaking up on the spot.”

Tracking Heartbreaker could be complicated. You look around to find some evidence of why, where and how it attacks the couples. You walk around with Sylus next to you. The scanner of your watch give you an update:

“No abnormal energy spikes detected. Traces of Wanderer activity linger near the dock.”

You nod, stepping closer to the water’s edge. “It doesn’t just pick any couple… don’t you think?”

Sylus smirks, his gaze flicks to the lake. "So, what’s the plan? Rent a boat, act all lovey-dovey, and lure the thing out?"

You let out a small sigh, tapping your fingers against your arm. “Probably it will work, but it doesn't mean it will appear right here. Which means it could take some time to find it…” You pause, then turn to face him, tilting your head slightly. “Sylus… can you be even romantic?” 

“I feel offended, kitten. Wasn't my affection not clear enough.”

You snort, shifting your weight onto one leg. “Let me think, you've taken me on several “date-missions”, using me as an armory, shield and bodyguard. And let’s not forget, you introduced me as just a friend during the museum event.”

“That's what it's all about.” Sylus lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Then, why don’t you teach me what it means to be romantic…”

“Do you want to take on this challenge?”

“You're always so competitive, sweetie. Why not?”

“Then less see who can make first appear Heartbreaker” 

As the evening stretches on, the two of you move through different spots known for romantic outings. First, a charming café where couples linger over half-finished desserts and whispered conversations. You glance at the menu and realize everything is designed for two: shared platters, couple-themed drinks, even desserts that come in matching sets. You realice most of the people are wearing matching outfits. You wonder if going around in the same outfits would be something you would do with him. Buying everything in a double set. Wearing the same pajamas, drinking from identical mugs, layering yourselves in matching sweaters… You have been wearing matching bracelets since the mission with the gem. Your fingers brush over it absentmindedly as you stir your drink, lost in thought. The dessert you ordered a while ago lay in front of you untouched. Sylus leans forward in his chair, smirking at your focused expression. 

“What’s on your mind, sweetie?” you're still lost in thought, your mind drifting over ways to be more romantic with him, until he suddenly holds up a spoonful of dessert in front of your nose. “Open” He orders you, you grimace at his sudden assertiveness but obey, letting him feed you. 

That’s 10 points for Sylus, feeding you is a way to be romantic.

Next stop is a flower garden, where lovers stroll between glowing lanterns and fragrant blossoms. Sylus plucks a small pink flower off a tree, twirling it between his fingers before tucking it behind your ear with a teasing grin. "That’s romantic enough for you, sweetie?" he murmurs slightly amusted. You roll your eyes but don't take off the flower.

“You can do better…” as you turn around to look around, which flower would match him the best? A red one catches your eyes, small and with delicate petals. You pull out several and turn back to him. "Bend down". You place one in his hair and another behind his ear. Sylus looks at you intensely, the warm light of the garden softening his features. You feel your heart begin to race. The beauty that this man radiates is out of this world, every time you remember this fact you don't understand how no one appreciates what you are seeing.

Just like at the New Year's market, the lady at the doll stand referred to Sylus as a tiger, someone fierce and intimidating. And although he certainly usually has that look, and he teases you about taming him, he has a soft spot. You see that every time you reflect yourself in his eyes. That’s truly something that makes you happy. 

Sylus gently grabs your hand, kissing the knuckles of your fingers. Bowing to his beloved lady. “Only you can touch me like this…” the intensity of the moment makes you blush.

By nightfall, you find yourselves at the promenade, the city lights shimmering on the river’s surface. Couples are everywhere, walking hand in hand, nestled on benches, whispering to each other under the soft glow of street lamps. Sylus and you take a seat on an empty bench, the cool night air carrying the sound of laughter and distant music. 

You lean back, exhaling. "Well, this is the third couple’s spot on the list, and still no sign of Heartbreaker."

Sylus stretches, his arm casually draping over the back of the bench almost around you. "Maybe, it's scared of us. Or maybe…" he tilts his head, watching the couples nearby, "...it only appears when there’s actual romance in the air."

You glance at him "Are you saying we’re not romantic enough?"

He smirks, leaning in just a little. "You tell me, kitten. Has there been a moment that made your heart race?"

“Not yet” you lie and he notices it. Is written all over your face. “And you, have I made your hearts race?” 

“No…” He points out nonchalantly. You feel offended and disappointed. Your lips press into a thin line, and you scoff, looking away. 

Sylus chuckles, the sound low and amused. "Oh? Are you disappointed?"

"Obviously" you huff, refusing to meet his gaze.

He shifts closer, trapping you on the bench. His smell invades you, you want to lie on his chest and let him caress your back while he reads you a poem. His voice dropped to a whisper "You shouldn’t be." Before you can ask what he means, he takes your hand, guiding it to his chest. Beneath your palm, his heartbeat is steady but strong. Your fingers twitch slightly.

"You make it race all the time," he confesses. "I just like seeing you try harder."

Even though he says it with his usual confidence, a slight pink color spreads across his cheeks. He says something like that, and now he’s blushing? That’s not fair. You stay in that position, refusing to move, feeling the warmth of his skin under your palm. For you, the world slows down, all of it fades into the background. 

Your gaze drifts upward, from his chest to his throat, lingering for a second before finally settling on his lips. They’re slightly parted, you miss the feeling of them. How they move in sync with yours. The longing to feel his naked skin on yours, his hands being a delicate weapon with which he tortures you until you fall between sighs and moans. It ignites the deepest desire of your heart. You don’t know if it’s your imagination or if he’s leaning in ever so slightly, but your heart is pounding loud enough that he must hear it.

"Kitten" he whispers. A question. A challenge. An Invitation.

Then a sudden chill cuts through the warm night, the hairs on your arms rising as the atmosphere shifts. You tense, instincts kicking in, fingers moving quickly toward your weapon. The shadows near the water seem to distort, the faint outline of something lurking just beyond normal sight.

“There” you murmur. Your watch confirms your gut feeling: metaflux energy detected.

Sylus follows your gaze, a slow grin spreading across his lips as excitement flickers in his eyes. He rolls his shoulders, readying himself.

“Time to break a Heartbreaker.”

You react first, drawing your weapon in a fluid motion, instincts honed from countless battles. “Sylus, left flank!” You call out, already moving, running after the Heartbreaker. Sylus doesn’t hesitate. He dashes to the side, his speed a blur as he circles around to cut off any escape. 

“I see it” he growls. 

—

At the end of the day, you spent the complete day hunting Heartbreaker, to just let him escape at the last moment. Well, you managed to recover the love letter they stole from the post office. You were exhausted, your muscles ached from the chase, the weight of exhaustion settling deep. This isn't how you wanted to spend a day with Sylus. You wanted to finish what you had started in the kitchen, to lose yourself in the heat of his lips, his hands, the way he makes your world tilt whenever he pulls you close. The initial mission of creating chocolate failed.

The cool night air brushes against your skin as you walk back where Sylus left his bike that same afternoon. Luckily you didn't have to go to HQ to make the report and you can send everything another day. Is already midnight. 

“Are you up for a joy ride?” Sylus hands you over your helmet. You can’t deny the way your heart beats at the sight of him. Leaning against his bike, smirking like he hadn’t just spent the whole day hunting down an annoyingly elusive Wanderer.

You’re brushing some remaining dust from your sleeve. “Where do you wanna take me?”

Sylus tilts his head that familiar glint of mischief returns to his gaze. “Guess” You sigh, finally slipping the helmet on. 

“Fine. But if this is another mission, I swear—” Right now, you just wanted to be with him, without missions, without distractions, without anything getting in the way. 

"Relax, kitten. No more running around tonight." He swings a leg over the bike, patting the seat behind him. “Just you and me.” You bite your lip, the familiar rush of warmth spreading through your chest. Maybe today hadn’t gone as planned, but with Sylus, it never really mattered. As long as he was beside you, it was enough.

You climb onto the bike behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He hums in approval, his hand covering yours for just a second before gripping the handlebar.

“Hold on tight.” As the engine roars to life and the city lights blur around you, you press yourself closer against him, letting the night swallow the rest of the world. Sylus increases speed, making you scream in surprise. Instead of telling him to behave in the city, you laugh and hold on tighter to his body. The speed, the wind and the heat he emits make you forget your disappointment of not having caught Heartbreaker.

{At Twilight BGM} 

After a while, Sylus parks the bike smoothly in front of your place, the engine’s low hum fading into the quiet of the night. But he doesn’t move. You frown slightly, shifting against him, your arms still loosely wrapped around his waist.

“Why are we here?” you ask, tilting your head. “I thought you would take me to your base”

He finally exhales a quiet chuckle, tilting his head back just enough for his voice to carry over the roar of your heartbeat. “Do you miss the N109 Zone?” 

You wait for an explanation, but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he lifts a hand, dragging his fingers over the back of your hand, a slow movement that sends a shiver up your spine. His touch is always so warm against your skin.

“Then… Why?” Sylus finally turns slightly, his glowing red eyes catching yours through the visor of your helmet. 

“Because you live here…” he murmurs a bit amused “And because I figured you’d want to finish what you started.”

You blink. “Finish what—?”

Then it clicks. The chocolate. Your eyes widen slightly, your mind flashing back to your kitchen, to the mess you left behind, to the small box of chocolates you had managed to salvage amidst the chaos. You had nearly forgotten. Nearly.

Sylus watches as realization dawns on you, his smirk deepening. “You didn’t think I’d let you off the hook that easily, did you?”

You exhale a laugh, shaking your head. “I swear, you have the worst priorities.”

Sylus finally turns off the bike and swings a leg over, his movements smooth as ever. He faces you, leaning in just slightly. “Come on, kitten. You worked so hard on them.” His voice dips lower, teasing. “And besides…” His fingers ghost under your chin, tilting your face up ever so slightly. “You still owe me for all those interruptions.”

Your breath catches, heat creeping up your neck.

“Okay, okay.” You step off the bike, brushing past him with a smirk of your own. “But if they taste bad, you have to pretend you like it.”

Sylus chuckles. “Sweetie, if it’s made by you…” He leans down, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers, “I’ll devour every last bite.” Your face starts to burn, is he still talking about the chocolate? 

You push the door open, stepping inside with Sylus close behind you. You get rid of your weapons at the entrance, placing your belt in its usual place, then you take off your shoes. The familiar scent of chocolate is still faintly in the air, mixed with the comforting warmth of your home. Your eyes immediately move to the kitchen counter, where the bowl of half-made chocolate still sits, abandoned in the rush of the mission.

“So much for finishing what I started” you murmur, rubbing your temple. Sylus hums behind you, moving into the kitchen with easy, unhurried steps.

“Guess you’ll have to make it up to me.”

You give him a dry look. “Oh? And what exactly do you suggest?”

He smirks. “We finish them now.”

Your brows lift. “It’s late.”

Sylus shrugs. “And? Isn't it Valentine's Day already?” He points to the clock in the living room. True, it's past one in the morning. You hesitate, glancing at bowl. It’s cooled but still workable. The strawberries you left soaking in cold water remain untouched. You sigh, rolling up your sleeves.

“Well, would you like to help me then?”

His smirk widens. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

You smile, pointing to the strawberries. “Dry them off and bring them here.” Sylus makes a show of complying, grabbing a towel and drying each berry gently off. You already know he’s skilled in the kitchen, especially with those delicious cupcakes he made before. It’s fun having him here, helping out. It feels real, everything, you’re feeling, your connection, your relationship.

You pick up a strawberry and dip it carefully into the warm chocolate you have already heated up, twisting it slightly before placing it on parchment paper. Sylus follows your movements, but when he dips his strawberry, he makes a mess; chocolate coating nearly his whole fingers.

You snort. “Wow. Truly an expert.”

Before you can react, he lifts his fingers to his lips, licking the excess chocolate off slowly. The way his tongue drags over his skin, the way his eyes hold yours the entire time. He did it on purpose. You look away. Heat rushes to your face. You glance down at your own fingers, chocolate smeared across your skin from your earlier work. Before you can wipe it away, Sylus catches your wrist, holding it up between you. His gaze darkens slightly, that playful smirk softening. 

“Let me….”

He didn’t give you the time to protest before his lips brush against your fingertips, his tongue flicking out to catch the chocolate. Your breath hitches, a rush of heat shoots through your body. He’s not in a hurry. He takes his time, licking the chocolate off each finger with a sinful kind of precision. 

“Sylus—” Your voice catches. 

His eyes meet yours. He likes to make you blush, to make you lose your composure. He loves every single one of those expressions you make and he never gets tired of seeing you that way. “Hmm?”

You swallow, pulse hammering in your throat. “…Nothing.” His lips curl at the edges. Satisfied. 

And suddenly, Valentine’s Day doesn’t seem so ruined after all. Without a word, he moves, stepping closer until you're pressed against the cool edge of the counter. He lifts you easily, your feet leaving the floor as he sets you down, your body flush against his.

“Where were we before?” You open your mouth to respond, but he silences you with a smirk, his fingers brushing against the strap of your hunter watch. You freeze. With a swift motion, he rips it off your wrist, tossing it into a nearby drawer without a second thought.

“Don't need this right now” he mutters, eyes back on you as if the watch had never mattered in the first place.

Your heart races. “Wait—”

But the words die in your throat as his lips descend to the curve of your neck, trailing soft, teasing kisses along the sensitive skin there. The heat of his touch sends a shiver through you, and your hands instinctively grip the edge of the counter, as if it can steady you against the flood of desire rushing through your veins. His thumb traces the line of your jaw slowly, savoring the moment. You swallow, the taste of his proximity is intoxicating. Sylus pulls back slightly, his face inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours as his gaze flickers to your lips. 

“What else can we cover with chocolate, kitten?”

You watch down on the bowl, if he is having fun then so do you. You dip your finger once more in the mixture and cup his face with your other hand, securing his position. Sylus just smiles. With the chocolate slightly dripping down, you painted a heart on his face. You always wanted to do this, but you haven't had the opportunity until now. You lean in, your lips brushing over his skin. Then with open mouth kisses you eat up the chocolate. Licking bit by bit the sweetness. Sylus breath hitch. His hands press on your thigh, restrained, as if waiting to see what you’ll do next. You pull back slightly, meeting his gaze.

“Take your shirt off” you say softly.

A slow smirk tugs at his lips. “Bossy.” But he doesn’t hesitate. His fingers move to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one with a painfully slowness, as if daring you to lose patience. The fabric parts, revealing the hard lines of his chest. 

You dip your fingers into the chocolate again, your touch featherlight as you trace a path down the center of his chest, stopping just above his heart. Sylus exhales sharply, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. A teasing smile playing on your lips. 

"Are you trying to make art?" His voice is a low rumble. You grin, dipping your finger back into the bowl. 

"Maybe. Stay still."

He growls softly, like a domesticated wild cat, when you drag the chocolate-covered fingertip over his collarbone, tracing down his ribs in lazy patterns. In the middle of this action, you get a better idea, and you start writing on his chest. A little crooked, but clearly. Something that always comes to your mind every time you see him. Every time he kisses you, every time you melt into a long hug, when you sleep next to him or he just says your name. Then, suddenly, he catches your wrist, his grip gentle yet firm. His eyes soften as he reads the words scrawled across his chest. His smile is small, but undeniably warm.

"Kitten..." he murmurs, pressing a slow kiss onto your lips. "That's something I should be saying.”

“Did you think our competition was over?”

His hand sliding to the back of your neck as he pulls you closer. “Is this how…” He presses another kiss onto your lips, his voice low as he whispers against you, “...you’re going to teach me romanticism?” He moves his lips to your cheek, planting a soft kiss there as well. “I’m more than happy to be your student.” 

You try to pinch him, but Sylus is quicker, capturing your other hand as well. "Oh, now you want to punish me…"

You smile, a glint of mischief in your eyes. "Then be a good boy." For a moment he considers not doing what you say, but that "good boy" has made him very horny.

Sylus leans in, his body pressing between your legs. You sink your free hand into his tousled grey hair, pulling him toward you as your lips brush together. The way his breath mingles with yours is both comforting and intoxicating. The trust and complicity that you share with him is unique. The longer you're in this intimate position, the faster your pulse quickens, and you swear it's synchronizing with the beat of your lover. 

Sylus moves with an urgency that surprises you for a moment, his lips finding yours again, more demanding this time. His lips trail down your jaw, his touch becoming more insistent, more heated. You tilt your head, gasping softly as you feel the desire in his touch.

"Tell me," he whispers between kisses, "What do you want, kitten?" His hand slides up to your cheek, his thumb gently brushing the curve of your jaw as his gaze holds yours. You breathe out, every inch of you aching with the pull between you two. 

“You know what I want.” you whisper back. 

With a quiet, almost reverent motion, he lifts you effortlessly from the counter, your legs instinctively wrapping around him as he carries you to the bed, never breaking eye contact.  

It isn’t long before every single piece of clothing you were wearing is scattered across the room, discarded like thoughts of hesitation that no longer matter. His hands move with a gentleness that contrasts with the fire in his eyes, tracing slow, reverent paths over your skin. He holds you as if you are something precious, something irreplaceable, as if he’s afraid you might vanish if he lets go.

His lips follow the path his hands have mapped, pressing slow. His fingers skimming along the curve of your back, the dip of your waist, the rise of your ribs. 

"You’re beautiful" he murmurs, almost as if the words slip out without his permission. He leans back just enough to look at you, his gaze searching, drinking you in as if this moment might slip through his fingers if he blinks.

You reach up, fingers threading through his silver-grey hair, tugging lightly. “You always say that” you whisper, smiling softly.

“Because it’s always true” he counters, brushing his lips over your temple. You close your eyes at the tenderness of his words, the way they sink into your chest, filling spaces you hadn’t realized were empty. A quiet sigh escapes you as you nuzzle into him, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. You have never felt safer, never felt more cherished than in this moment, wrapped in the arms of the one who knows you better than anyone else.

In the most intimate moments, in the intensity of your sighs, you know that Sylus, despite not expressing it in words, shows you his most romantic side through his actions. And tonight, he expresses it to you with the intensity of his gaze and the softness of his movements. 

Actions speaks louder than words.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Audacious

Logan Howlett X F! Reader

A/N: I'm ovulating and this came over me. I imagined 70s! DOFP Logan, or Worst! Wolverine but you could really picture any Logan honestly. I need a cigarette after writing this

Plot: You ghosted him, and he came back to take whats his.

Warnings: SMUT MDNI!, CNC/DUBCON (but like reader really enjoys the fight/chase), Logan gets a little dark and possessive, rough sex, Unprotected PiV, multiple creampies, bondage, reader passes out a couple times and Logan doesn't stop, mention of oral (f! recieving), Logan gets surprisingly soft and a lil embarrassed by himself at the end

Word Count: 3297

Your keys jingled as you pulled them out of your purse, sticking them into the lock of your apartment door. It’s been a long day, and you wanted nothing more but to go inside, take a hot bath, and relax for the next two days that you have off. 

The moment you stepped inside, all the hairs on your body stood up. You felt a presence looming in your apartment. It was pitch black inside, your curtains were pulled shut, and all the lights were off. This wasn’t how you left the place this morning. There was a lingering scent of cigars, something extremely familiar. A sinking feeling of anxiety floated down your stomach, as you squinted, fumbling in the dark for the closet lamp. Your hand found the string of a lamp and pulled the switch. 

“Welcome home.” 

Logan was sitting in your chair as if he made himself at home in your apartment. He leaned back, legs spread, the seams of his snug jeans pulling tight over his muscular thighs, his belt buckle gleaming from the lamp light reflecting on it. His arms resting on the arms of the chair, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, a glass of whiskey in one hand, holding it lazily by the rim. 

You yelped, dropping your bag and keys and covered your mouth in surprise, stumbling back. 

“Logan!” You yelled, your hands falling to your side, fists clenched. “What are you- You can’t be coming in here without telling me!” 

“I was just dropping by.” He says, swirling his drink in the glass, before bringing it up to his lips. The way he acted so casually made you nervous, your fight or flight instinct was kicking into gear. “Haven’t heard from you in awhile.” 

You met Logan Howlett a few months ago. You immediately fell for his charms, his smart mouth, and his sinisterly good looks. You went on a few dates and thought you felt a connection. Logan on the other hand though, couldn’t seem to be farther away from connecting to you. He acted aloof and stoic, rarely would he really try to connect with you during dates and you began to question whether this would go anywhere. You always put in the effort to call, plan the dates, and make the conversations. When you brought it up, he shrugged you off and his casual and uncaring demeanor turned you off immediately.  

So you dropped him.

You stopped calling, you stopped making the effort to see him. Honestly, you believed he wouldn’t notice by the way his mind always seemed to be somewhere else. Admittedly, your feelings were a bit hurt, you did really like Logan- you thought you saw something in him, that he would open up to you; but you refused to let a 3 month fling get to you. You hadn't even had sex yet, only having done oral on each other a few times.

It’d been a month since and you’ve begun to realize you made the right choice because he never reached out. 

Until now.

“Well, you could have called.” You scoffed. “Not break into my apartment! How- How did you get in here?” 

“Not important.” He clicks his tongue, moving to set his glass on the nearby table, atop a coaster. The clink of the glass made you flinch, as your stomach turned and you wondered about Logan's intentions because surely they weren’t innocent. Especially with the way his eyes were trailing down your body, staring at you like a predator looking at prey. 

“You- You should leave Logan. I’ll- I’ll call you.” You say, forcing a smile, as you bring your shaky hands to your chest, stepping back to your door. 

He smiled, stretching across his face, his head giving a little shake. “No you won’t.” he hums, tipping his chin up. With a sigh, he pushed himself up from the chair, and for a moment you felt relief as he walked towards you. His heavy footsteps weighed against the floor, a creak with each step as he stalked over to you. You moved to open the door for him, turning the knob and pulling it- but he slammed it shut, the press of his palm against the wood. His hand slid down and he turned the lock. 

You looked up at him with wide eyes as you took a few steps back from him. 

“You look scared darling.” He states, standing over you. He reached out, brushing some hair behind your ear. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You swallowed, your hands trembling, and your heart pounding. “Then why are you here?”

“I wanted to see my girl.”

Your face fell, and you shook your head in confusion. “What? No, no Logan, I'm not your girl.” You state firmly. “You acted like you could be any less interested in me whenever we went out together.” 

He quirked a brow, a very faint twitch of his lips. 

“I mean, I tried to bring it up to you but you brushed me off. I stopped calling a month ago, did you only just now notice?” You asked in disbelief, crossing your arms. Your nerves began to disappear, as an angry confidence began to take root. “How could you sit and call me your girl when you wouldn’t tell me if you wanted us to date? Then you show up to my apartment like you care or something?” You scoffed. You stared at him, brows creased angrily and lips turned downwards in a frown. All your frustrations came out, as you began to realize that Logan had gotten under your skin more than you cared to admit. 

“You done?” He asks. You scowled.

“Logan. Leave. We are done.” You say, reaching to turn the lock and open the door. Before you knew it, his hand was on your neck as you were pushed into the wall, as his lips crashed onto yours in a messy and possessive kiss. You struggled against him, hands coming up to try to pull him off you, before you pushed at his chest, and twisted your head away. “Logan!”

“We’re done when I say we’re done.” He mutters against your lips, his breath fanning over your face and sending goosebumps through your body. You swallowed, your body trembling as you brought your hands up to his hand around your neck, gripping him gently to try to get him to loosen his grip.

“Lo, let- let me go.” You beg softly. 

“You think I didn’t care darling?” He asks quietly in a low voice, tilting his head so his lips brush along your cheek. “That's why you stopped calling?”

A quiver of your lips, as you felt your eyes water, and you nodded. He let out a soft breath, almost like he was disappointed and he tuts. 

“I care sweetheart.” He says softly. “I’m gonna show you that I really care.” 

His lips pressed to yours, and you kissed him back- only for a moment. His hand loosened around your neck, moving to cup your jaw instead. The feeling of his lips against yours, desperate, romantic, needy. He licked your bottom lip, and you allowed him in. He licked into your mouth, against the back of your teeth, moving to press himself closer to you. 

You took the chance and kneed him in the crotch. 

“Shit!” He groaned falling back from you, you took the chance to shove him away, moving to run further into your apartment. You didn’t get far, Logan's recovery time from getting kneeled in the dick seemed remarkably fast. He grabbed your arm, pulling you against him. “That was cruel.” He says his tone was a bit more lighthearted, with a bit of humor behind it.

“You are a bastard!” You struggled to pull away from him, but he only chuckled. He moved down, kissing you again despite you fighting against him. It was pathetic, considering the man was much bigger, and much, much, stronger than you. You were merely a rabbit in the mouth of a wolf. 

“Stop struggling.” He murmurs against your lips, capturing them once more in a heated kiss. For a moment, you fell into him, feeling your mind go fuzzy at the way his hands gripped your arms, keeping you close. His beard scratched at your face, and his scent was overwhelming you. The smell of men's cologne and his natural musk mixed together. “You can’t get away from me, pretty girl. Try as you might” He moans against your mouth. 

His words spurred you on to fight again, as you struggled and shoved him away. 

“No! No Logan!” You pant. “I don’t want this, and I don’t want you.” 

The arousal that was soaking your panties said otherwise. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your veins were thrumming with adrenaline. You loved this, even if you acted otherwise. You wanted him to chase you, and you wanted him to take you, make you his girl. A few months of him not paying you much mind, of you chasing him. If he wants you, he’ll get you; but he has to work for it first. You wanted him to fuck you, and see how far he’ll go to claim you. 

He sniffed, his nostrils flaring, and his eyes turned dark as he stalked towards you. “I don’t think that’s true sweetheart.” He says in a low voice. You swallowed, stepping back into the hallway that led to your bedroom. He was inches away from you. “You’re gonna play hard to get? That’s fine. We can play.” He says a small shrug. 

His hands reached out to your blouse and a quick movement ripped it open. You gasped, your hands coming to cover your chest. “I always win though, and I’ll take what I want.” 

You turned to run into the bedroom, but he was faster, grabbing you around the waist and slamming you onto the bed, the mattress creaking as you bounced on it a few times from the force. He stood over you, his hands reaching down and ripping your bra apart in one swift motion.

“Logan!” You gasped before his hands came and grabbed your wrists, pinning them to either side of your head. His mouth came down, taking a nipple between his lips, his tongue running over the bud, stimulating you. You felt heat rush through your body, another coat of arousal. His thigh pushed between your legs, as he grinded it against your core. 

You whined, squirming and fighting underneath him as he attempted to work you over. He nipped at your peak bud, before growling in frustration at your constant squirming. He stood up, letting go of you and flipping you over onto your belly. You attempted to crawl away, but he kneeled on the bed, sitting his weight on you and keeping you pinned. 

“Since you won’t stop squirming…” He mutters. You heard the clink of his belt. Your arms were pulled back behind you, and you felt the leather binding your elbows together. Once secure, he stood from the bed and flipped you back over onto your back. 

He pushed your skirt roughly up your thighs, exposing your panties. He took a deep breath, his fingers brushing over the fabric that covered your cunt. “Fuck. Acting like you don’t want this like you don’t want me.” He shook his head. “You’re fucking soaked pretty girl.” 

He ripped your panties off, sticking himself between your legs, pushing his jeans and boxers down his thighs, his hard cock popping out, tapping against his belly a few times. 

“Normally I’d take my time but since you gotta act like a brat….” He mutters, hooking his arms around your legs, pulling you closer, “We’ll just have to skip to the good part.” 

He aimed himself against your wet pussy, and in one quick thrust pushed himself inside you. You yelped from the intrusion, arching your back. He felt so damn good. His hard cock stretches you open perfectly. He let out a guttural groan, tipping his head back. “Fuuuck yeah-” He grinned sinfully, eyes shut as he let out a hard pant.

“You’re so fucking wet-” He moaned. His hands grabbed your hips, and he began pounding into your pussy, abusing it with each thrust. You turned your head to the side, gasping and panting as he continued to fill you to the brim over and over. The bed shook violently as he thrust into you, his fingers digging into your hips and pulling you down onto him. 

You were powerless against him, forced to take what he was giving you. “You’re mine baby.” He grunted. “Ain’t no argument about it now.” 

He leaned down over you, his throbbing cock deep inside you, his chest pushed into the back of your thighs as your legs came up to your chest. You turned your head away from him, and he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. He squeezed your cheeks, making your lips pucker as he leaned forward, kissing you, his tongue shoving into your mouth roughly. Your pussy tightened around him, causing him to chuckle warmly into your mouth. “Acting like you don’t fucking like this-” He grunted, thrusting harshly into you, eliciting a pained gasp from your lips. “Your pussy does, she’s fucking squeezing me tight. You love this, don’t you? Me taking what I want from you.”

You let out a moan, tipping your head back. You finally nodded and didn’t have to look at him to see that cocky grin on his face. 

“Damn fucking straight.” He growls. “You’re gonna fucking take it all.” His thrusts became more frantic, rougher. He leaned down, biting your neck, as he slammed into you with a ferocity you never felt before. It was so much, he was too much, as you felt an explosive finish approaching quickly. “Fucking stupid, acting like I didn’t care about you. I’ve been fucking obsessed with you since day 1.” He groaned into your neck. 

The admission made you snap. Your eyes rolled back as you let out a cry of his name. Your body shook, as your pussy squeezed and spasmed around him, so tight he could barely pull out.  He grunted, slamming into you one more time, before moaning so loud you’re pretty sure the neighbors could hear, and you felt his cum fill you up. 

A moment passed, and he sat up, pulling out of you. He flipped you over, onto your belly, pushing you further up the bed. He let you lay there, trembling with his cum leaking out of you, while he shed the rest of his clothes off, and then pulled off your skirt, leaving you in just your torn bra and blouse. 

He kneeled back onto the bed clambering over you and grabbed your hips, bringing your ass into the air.

“You look good like this sweetheart.” He mumbled, his thumb brushing over your puffy pussy, before capturing the cum that was leaking inside you, pushing it back in. You whined, squirming under him, too sensitive to his touch. 

“Logan…” You gasped.

“I’m not done with ya.” He says, adjusting the both of you, and you feel his tip slide back inside you, an embarrassing squelching noise in the room as he fills you up again. 

“Ah!” You whimpered. How was he hard again already? “Lo-” 

“I don’t think you get it darling. You’re mine. I’m gonna fuck that nonsense of me not caring out of you.”

“I believe you!” You gasped, as he harshly slammed into you, the bed slamming into the wall. You didn’t know if you could take him more. He felt so good, yet your nerves felt it was on fire. You didn’t want him to stop. 

He chuckled, “You want me to stop?”

The silence was deafening. You squeezed your eyes shut, biting your lip as you prepared yourself. 

“Good girl.” He purred. His hand grabbed your hair, tugging it back as he began pounding into you again. A chorus of whines escaped you as he fucked you with renewed vigor. His stamina was insane. Your pussy was on fire, the way he stretched you out, his hips slamming into your ass, and you were sure you would end up with bruises everywhere. 

The rest of the night ended up a blur. Logan used you like a fucktoy, and you were fairly sure you passed out multiple times. The first time, you woke up on top of him, your head resting on his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around you as he fucked up into you. The second time, you woke to him eating you out, his tongue swirling over your swollen clit, sending shocks through your body. The third time, your wrists were tied together above your head to the frame of your bed. Your legs spread with Logan on top of you, hands on either side of your hips, as he thrusts into you slowly, almost romantically. He leaned down to pull a soft kiss from you. 

Your body felt numb, yet the pleasure still enveloped you, as you felt the honey-sweet feeling pooling in your belly again.

“C'mon baby. One more for me.” He moaned, resting his body over yours, pressing soft kisses over your face. “I know you can do it.”

He brought his fingers between your sweat-soaked bodies. There were countless bite marks and hickeys that covered your body. His fingers found your clit and began rubbing it, his thrusts still slow and soft. 

Within seconds, your legs were trembling, as your pussy tightened around him again, and he tipped his head back, his pace picking up as he felt you tighten and pulse around him. He fucked you through your orgasm once more, before finally finishing inside, a loud curse and moan of your name, as he panted, eyes shut tight as the last bit of his energy finally drained inside you. He collapsed on your chest, his arms still somewhat bracing himself up, keeping his full body weight off you. 

He sighed, pushing himself out, and you heard a snikt!, as you watched in amazement and exhaustion as sharp metal claw-like appendages came out, and he carefully cut the cloth around your wrists, your arms falling limply above your head. He climbed off you, rolling to your side, and pulling you against him, your cheek against his chest. You didn’t bother to ask about the sharp knife-like pieces that just came out of his fists and then disappeared.

“You alright?” He asks softly, his hand massaging up and down your back. “Too much?” 

“Mmm.” You barely mumbled, as your eyes grew heavy again. You were too tired for pillow talk now. 

A small chuckle. “Y’know. I really do care about you. I just…Some things are going on in my life, things I’m a part of, that I haven’t told you about. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to bring you into that part of my life yet. I uh…Thought you’d be safer.” 

You opened your eyes at his admission. His voice was soft, in a tone you hadn’t heard from him before. 

“I honestly was relieved when you stopped calling. Cause I was constantly wondering if I was selfish being with you. I thought it’d be easier that you broke it off because I couldn’t bring myself to do it but then I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Missed you a lot and I guess I got a little…Possessive.”

“You think?”

Another scoff escaped him, and his hand came around your arm, his fingertips softly tracing up and down your arm. “Yeah well…When you recover, we should talk about some things.”

“Like the claws?” You asked. 

“Yeah, like the claws...”

“We should talk about you breaking into my apartment too.”

“Uh…Yeah…” He says, a tone of embarrassment. “I’ll...Explain everything tomorrow.”

[mastermindmiko]

Finally

Pairing: Sirius Black + Reader

Summary: Sirius reunites with his girlfriend after many years in Azkaban

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: None, I believe, but lmk

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist

The ministry’s guards have been following me around for the last two days. They follow me to work and back to my home. There is a guard positioned in front of my office that stays there, surveilling anyone going in or out. I’m sure they’d have one at my home, if I didn’t so clearly state my distaste for the idea, going on a small rant about my rights. 

I wish I could’ve said that I was unexpecting of be pulled out of my work in the middle of the day. Three days after the papers printed out the news, and I had caught a glimpse of his adult face for the first time in years. Despite the disheveled hair and maddening stare with the manic scream, it was still him. 

The interrogation room is exactly like I thought it would be. Remus had described it in his letters, he was his friend after all, it made sense to interrogate him as well. There’s only a few people present in the room, most of them being guards and secret keepers. The veritaserum is present in a small vile, on an even smaller table. I sit down in front of it and take a small sip. 

The auror raises an eye at me, I gulp down the whole potion. I can already feel the effects start to take place, it’s getting more difficult to hold my tongue. The auror grabs a piece of paper from the secret keeper next to them and the reporter holds more tightly to her pen. 

“Please state your name.” 

The first questions are standard procedure, making sure that the veritaserum is in full effect. It’s basic questions: my name, my age, my occupation. The Auror clears his throat and I straighten my back ready for the actual questions. His voice bellows as he speaks, “Have you had any contact with Sirius Black?” 

“No, I have not.” I reply, and as much as it pains me to say it, it’s the truth. The Auror’s eyes narrow at me suspiciously. I can hear the quill scratching at the parchment paper, my answer recorded. He asks, “Have you been in contact with anyone who has been in contact with Sirius Black?” 

“No, I have not.” I repeat, and feel the boredom steep into my skin, not just annoyance that was already present. I had wished that he had contacted me, but surely, he was waiting for the trials to be over, he wouldn’t want to get caught. 

“Do you know anyone who Sirius Black might try to contact?” 

“Do you have any ideas as to where he might hide?”

“Are there any people who might’ve aided him in his escape?” 

“Have you aided him in his escape?” 

The questions go on and on, and I watch the arrows of the clock tick and tick till an hour of my day is gone. The Auror is on his last paper with the last necessary questions. He asks, “And finally, what was your relationship with Sirius Black?” 

“I was his girlfriend.” 

***

“I’m not sure I like this.”

“No, don’t worry, you’ll love this surprise.” Remus teases, hinting at something I don't understand. I had received a letter from Remus, entailing anything except for the fact that the order is coming back together. For the second time, to fight off Voldemort. Harry needed more people around him that believed him more than anything.

I open my eyes and my breath hitches when I see him. He looks older from what I remember and much more sane than the pictures that the daily profit prints.I can imagine that if I’d ask him, he’d just smirk and flirt. He’d say that thoughts of me held him over. He’s got his hair slicked back and his beard trimmed. The dirt that would’ve covered his skin from the confinement in Azkaban, nowhere to be seen. He wanted to make a good impression, and that was too bad. 

“Actually, I’m sure that you’ve loved this surprise for a while now.” He says He walks me towards an unknown room in Grimmauld Place 12. The new location for the order is odd, and quite awfully random. I wasn’t sure how Dumbledore agreed, it seemed such an obvious place to hold a resistance against Voldemeort, but maybe that was the brilliance of it.

Remus was being awfully ominous, he’s been hinting about this surprise for a bit, and now that he’s finally leading me towards it, I feel anxious. I clutch my bag tightly in my hand and try not to look like I want to open my eyes so badly, aching to not try to take a subtle peek through my fingers that covered my eyes.

Remus shuts the door behind us and positions me.  He lets go of my shoulders, and shouts, “Surprise!” 

The feelings of relief from seeing him, all gone out the window as my fist clenches in anger and my blood boils. Why had he not spoken to me? Been out of Azkaban for two years, and not a single word. How dare he rob me of this relief?  Everyday coming home from work to eagerly check my letters and find none with his name. Looking deeply into the fire escape, hoping to see a familiar face, but don’t.

I rush over to him and start slamming his shoulders and chest with my bag. I shout, “You’ve been out of Azkaban for two bloody years and you haven't come to find me till now, you idiot!” 

“Ow,ow,ow! Darling, please stop.” He says, moving away from my bag and my fists, but I take a step towards him. I feel my eyes water at the nickname and how much I’d missed his voice. He holds my wrists and pulls them down, taking the bag from my hands and flinging it to the ground. 

I look at him again, and there he is. The boy I fell in love with,now a man, but with the same mischievous glimmer in his eyes. He smiles when he notices that my defenses have been let down, and my eyes softened. He always knew me too well. I feel my eyes burn and I press my lips together, urging the tears to stay back.

“I’ll give you guys some space.” Remus whispers before leaving the room. Sirius shoots him a smile and then turns back to me when the door closes. He looks skinnier, being on the run tends to do that. His cheeks are more hollowed out, but definitely filled out more since his initial escape. I wonder if he knows that I look at his pictures everyday. Sirius whispers, “How is it that you’re still getting more and more beautiful?” 

“How is it that you didn’t come find me? Or contact me at all? Harry’s been talking to you, he’s told me about the letters, and apparently you’ve been talking to Remus too.” I ask, avoiding his expert technique in changing the subject. He lets go of my wrist and I feel my fingers twitch, aching to get a hold of him again. He sighs, and says, “I was in Azkaban for twelve years.” 

“So?” 

“So…you could’ve moved on, and I-” He admits, pausing to let out a shaky breath. Fourteen years didn’t change the man that I knew. The mannerisms are the same, the same nervous shifting and awkward, but devastating smile. He continues, “I wasn’t ready to see that. Don’t think I am now, but it seems like it’s been long enough.” 

“It’s been too long.” I say, and take a final step towards him. I gulp and reach out to take his hand. I feel the softness of his finger tips, sliding my hand over his, feeling the lines of his palm and his callouses. It’s all the same and I can't without the sigh that breaks out from my chest. The first proper touch from the love of my life. He grips my hand the same way he always did, lock and key. I pull him tightly against me, hug him. For years, this is all I’ve wanted, and now it’s here.

“Have you?” Sirius asks, and I pull away, frowning and confused. I ask, “Have I what?” 

“Moved on?” Sirius asks, tentatively, part of him not wanting to know, instead wanting to live in an ignorant bliss. To me, it’s a stupid question. I smile, “No, how could I move on when you’ve taken my heart eighteen years ago, and so selfishly haven’t given it back to me?” 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get around to giving it back.” He grins so widely I think his face might break. He leans down and captures my lips in a heated kiss that’s filled with so much emotion, the emotions that neither of us could’ve expressed for a long time. 

a/n: hope you guys enjoyed! I have a feeling that I've been writing too much Sirius Black, though I'm not complaining

I feel a few tears finally escape my eyes, I can’t believe that he’s actually here, in front of me, kissing me after all this time. He wipes them away with his thumbs and cradles my face with his hands. For the first time in twelve years, though maybe without friends and heart bruised and more broken than before, I don’t feel alone. 

[emmitaaa4]

Azriel being petty towards Lucien for no good reason other than him being Elain’s mate will always be funny to me & im tired of pretending like it’s not.

“He’s so immature” “the one sided beef is crazy” i actually dont care, Azriel is loosing the idgaf war and i want more of it. Like if you aren’t changing addresses bc being around me is too much & if your nightstand isn’t an altar in my effigy, then what are you doing ??

Mind you, bro is not even loosing the idgaf war because there is no war, he’s just alone in the trenches fighting air 😭

He’s out here refusing to do his duties by not keeping track of Lucien bc he gives too much of a fuck, dissing the bond’s scent, counting gifts & staring at a tylenol bottle (& atp probably ear plugs)(re: altar) every night, being all like “woe is me i dont deserve Elain or anything good” but also “man fuck that guy he dont deserve her either, matter of fact now that you mention it i could take him in a fight—”

Pleaseee lmao. Me personally, if my man isnt pathetically down bad for me then i dont want it.

“Ouuu i’m so impassive and cool no one can see through my shadows—” Azriel, babe, the nonchalant act isn’t fooling anyone. Well apart from Cassian. But no one else.

*disclaimer: i can smell the “self-insert 🫵” claims—this is a joke. no this doesnt go into the nuances of the characters and their dynamics. yes i want more of pathetically down bad Az and yes he does need therapy.

[hencheri]

dhdjjdjfj okieee cuz i need heeseung more than i need air. or wtv the hoes say /lh. i can’t be coherent ever but especially when it comes to him he makes me so fucking mad /pos

ok but like. trying not to be tooo vague but i feel like he’d be mean just for the sake of being mean. i’m not sure if this is how u see him or not… n feel free to disagree ofc!!! but i love the idea of him purposefully taunting u and humiliating u. i’m wondering i guess… if i were to actually ask smth and not just ramble. in what scenarios do u think noncon would likely occur with him? tell me if this doesnt make any sense :(

i see him in so many ways like. def frat boy noncon, putting smth in ur drink at a party, u made it easy for him, n he’s going to share u with his friends cuz ur slutty pussy is just too good to keep to himself. i’ve also thought about like street racer/biker hee and ur a rival competitor n he thinks racing against a girl is beneath him n u should be taught a lesson about where ur place is. taking a man’s cock n the only words coming out of ur mouth should be his name. i just. think heeseung doesn’t take no for an answer. /pos. thank u for coming to my ted talk /lh

18+ mdni.

warnings: noncon, drugging.

no i can definitely see him mean! like it's just natural to heeseung, but he's particularly harsh with you... maybe you're not very smart and it drives him MAD. he just can't get his head around the fact that someone can be so dumb and he can't help but be mean to you because damn, you deserve it. i feel like he would scoff and roll his eyes at everything you say, and when you notice it you immediately feel embarrassed and stop talking so much. heeseung just has this effect... like you really want him to appreciate you, but unfortunately for you, he kinda dislikes you.

omg, frat boy!heeseung sharing you... he hates you, but he's so attracted to you and you just bring out his bad side so easily. he puts something that makes you so sleepy in your drink, he pretends to be worried, taking you upstairs to his room, but little do you know, his friends are coming as well... probably only jake and jungwon because they'd be into that lol, using you for literally so long, and you can't fight back, too tired :/ but my sick side wants heeseung to spare you when comes his turn, feeling too guilty, leaving you absolutely destroyed in his bed.

racer!heeseung makes me think of car sex and... i can just imagine him forcing himself on you in a dark alleyway, his car parked in the mud, rain pouring... the front of your body is sprawled on the backseats, wrists locked together behind your back with one of his hands, pounding into you from behind. he gets all of his frustration out because how dare you think you're better than him? your place is at his feet, serving him and ready for him to use how he pleases.

[d34dlysinner]

HII! And sure I can write that lmao! Thank you for the request!!

MDNI,

The reactions of the guys when you stare at them and compliment them.

Satan was running through the Gehenna streets, pulling you along with him as he helped you evade the attacks that were coming down from the sky.

"Ugh, this place should do. You should stay here and keep out of sight.", he grunted as you both finally got a place to rest. That's when he noticed how you were staring at his pinkish white hair that seemed almost like a cloud with how fluffy it was. Not only that, but you couldn't help to admire how his skin glimmers softly with how the light now hits his face.

"What?", he asked in an almost mocking tone as he leaned closer to you to look you straight in the eyes.

"I... You seem so pretty right now, so...", you muttered as you broke eye contact with him. He stood still. Not knowing how to react to such a compliment. After the surprise wore off, he patted your head and muttered: "You can continue admiring me, but after I killed those angels who disturbed our date." He gave you a smile before running back out to join the fight with his people.

Mammon, who would carry you all over Tartaros if he has the chance. The same man who would give you all he owned in exchange to be in your good graces and to be even in your presence. He would bask in the attention you're giving him. Even if it's just you staring. He wouldn't ask at first, but he definitely noticed.

It was only when his nobles asked or told him about it that he needed to ask.

He waited until you stared at him again. This time it was when you were in his firm arms.

"Why do you stare at me at times? Not that I mind.", he asked, smiling up at you as he continued walking down the hallway with you.

"You're just handsome.", you said giggling as you smiled back at you.

"I hope you'll keep staring at me then. I would love if you only looked at me like this.", he replied.

Zagan felt awkward as he stood still in his tracks. "Hm...", he hummed. Not knowing if he should speak out loud or not.

"Are you okay, Zagan?", you asked as you stopped beside him.

"...", he looked down at you. A blush on his face as he opened his mouth slightly. 'Is he going to speak?' You wondered as you heard the following words.

"Not that I dislike it, but I get flustered when you're staring at me like that.", he answered as he looked away from you and covered his mouth with a hand.

"Huh, well... You're handsome, but... sorry ... I didn't know I was staring at you just now...", you said as you actually thought about being in a trance whenever you look at him. He only blushed more at your words. He shook his head as a way to say that he actually wanted you to stare more.

Andrealphus couldn't see you staring, but he definitely knew you were. He isn't shy to ask though. He wants to know what of him intrigues you. "I know that you've been looking at me. Why?", he asked. His tone somewhat monotone and calm, but you could sense a slight hint of curiosity being in there.

"... I... sorry, I just think that you're pretty is all.", you replied honestly. Even if Andrealphus wouldn't be able to see he knew he could trust atleast you. "What about me do you think is pretty? Describe it, please.", he asks. He wants to be able to see what he looks like to you. So you start describing every point, from his soft hair to his painful scars and told him what you loved about them.

Stolas caught you a few times, but he either says nothing or he asks you in the most judgemental and monotone voice if there is something. You would always deny there being something which left Stolas to think about why you were staring. He would inspect himself, he would convince himself that it's because he's handsome. He would just think. Until it passes him off. Then he'll actually start demanding to know why you would stare at him.

You at times would tease him or change the subject, but one day he was very persistent. You just had to answer: "I just think that you're pretty...", you said which made Stolas stop in his tracks. He looks as if he's trying to register what you just told him, but he's having a hard time. Trying to calm himself down and seem cool, he'll clear his throat and say: "You mean handsome. Yes, I am." He says before continuing what he was doing. A blush now on his face.

Glasyalabolas wouldn't notice at first since he's always looking over people's heads. Until at some moment. He noticed you staring while you were in a conversation with him.

"Did something catch your attention?", he said. His deep voice waking you up from your trance.

"OH!... Uh... I guess so.", you said, not denying his question, but also not answering.

He raised a brow at this response and leaned down to look you right in the eyes. "Would you mind telling me?", he asked. Wanting to tease you as he expected you to deny, but instead he stood frozen on the spot when you did reply.

"I just think that you're handsome is all...", you said almost too casually.

"Hm?", was all he could muster to say as he straightened his back again.

"I see... Well, if I am so handsome then you're allowed to stare some more huh. Maybe Foras would go crazy because of this.", he chuckled at the thought of the demon in question getting agitated whenever you look at him, the tallest man in hell, again.

"Look at me enough to annoy him, but not enough to cause me issues then."

[malevoreenthusiast]

Freddie's Feat pt. 2

Hey all! Here it is--the second installment of Freddie's Feat. I hope you enjoy, as I certainly enjoyed writing this! As always, please feel free to flood my inbox and dms with anything your heart desires. I love hearing feedback and am always open to new ideas. Enjoy!

In case you missed it, here is part 1^

“Dude,” Will gaped, “what the fuck happened?”

Freddie’s belly was actively wobbling about. He couldn’t feasibly deny what had happened, especially because Brayden’s discarded clothes were in one hand while his other was methodically rubbing the swell of his bulging belly. Freddie felt somewhat ashamed, but only because he had gotten caught. These were his friends, so surely if he explained what had happened, they would be understanding, right? The college sophomore dared a look at Alex, whose jaw was on the floor. Fred’s belly let out a low, cacophonous groan between the remaining three friends. They stared in awe.

“Well,” Freddie explained, trying to form a rational story that his friends would accept, “Brayden and I…wanted to see how much I could fit…in here?” Even to Freddie, the story sounded false. The truth—that Brayden forced himself down Freddie’s gullet—was even more absurd, and neither Will nor Alex would’ve believed him. Freddie continued, “Do you—BBBBUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP—mind if we go to the living room? I think I need to sit down.”

In a deafening silence, Freddie led the way towards Alex’s living room, never taking a hand off of his belly. Brayden, of all times, had chosen to stop speaking, letting Freddie deal with the consequences of his actions alone. Still, he could feel jerky movements inside of his stomach chamber. Presumably, Brayden was pleasuring himself to the feeling of being in Freddie’s gut, which was just perfect, as now Freddie had to deal with the fallout alone. Plopping in the center of the plush couch, Fred had to spread his legs far apart to make room for his belly. Alex and Will sat on either side of him, waiting for Freddie to explain himself further.

“Look, guys…” he started, unsure how to talk about the massive belly in the room, “Brayden kept on asking about my stomach: how much I could fit, if he tasted good, how good it felt swallowi—”

“Dude!” Will snipped, just below a yell. “You ate Brayden!”

“How did you even…” Alex trailed off, starting to move his hand onto Freddie’s bloated abdomen before Will slapped his hand away and shook his head like a disappointed parent.

Freddie prodded his Brayden-filled belly like it was a bomb about to explode, “Yeah… but look, he wanted it, too.” A massive gurgle escaped from Freddie’s gut.

“How can you say that?” Will spat, incredulous.

“Brayden was jacked, and I’m not small,” Freddie’s ego got in the way here, “I mean, I could probably take him in a fight, if I got in close and—”

“Dude!” Will yelled at his gluttonous friend.

“Right, sorry, not the point. Brayden was much bigger than me in height and muscle, Will. Do you really think I would’ve been able to—UUUURRRRRPPPPP—’scuse me. Do you think I would’ve been able to do this if he didn’t want it?”

Freddie’s belly growled, telling Freddie that his belly could handle even more. Alex looked awestruck, while Will was a mixture of disbelief and personally affronted. Freddie tried another method, as he wasn’t really getting anywhere with just explaining it with words. Wrapping his muscled arms around both of his friends’ shoulders, he brought them in close. The heat radiating from Freddie’s gut was alarming, yet it felt really comforting to all three guys, whether they liked to admit it or not. The air had turned colder because of Freddie’s insatiable stomach, but here, it seemed like the very thing that would warm all of them up.

“Here, feel him in there,” Freddie grabbed his friends’ hands in his and moved to place them on his belly. Will jerked away, standing up off the couch, but Alex let it happen.

“I’m not going to give you a belly rub after you ate Brayden,” Will spat out the last two words with vitriol.

Fred scoffed, feeling a little awkward. He did understand Will’s perspective, but also, couldn’t he just listen to reason? On the other hand, Alex started rubbing Freddie’s belly, leaning in to his big-bellied friend and intently fixated on Freddie’s stomach. Freddie looked down at Alex and hummed, rubbing his back in an intimate gesture between long-time friends. If Will wasn’t in his corner, he was glad he had Alex at least. Alex continued rubbing and doting on Fred’s gut, massaging it gently and listening to the loud noises it produced every few seconds. With each gurgle and churn, Alex snuggled up a little closer to Freddie, getting a better angle to rub his belly. Smitten with Alex, Freddie didn’t notice Will left the room and returned with a bedsheet and a determined look. Will cleared his throat, wrenching Freddie from sweetly rubbing Alex’s back and head whilst he massaged the behemoth of a belly beneath him.

“Right, you two are insane, but I’m not. We’re gonna fix this, okay?” Will knelt down before Freddie, getting eye level with his navel. “Hear that, Bray? We’re gonna get you out of there!” Will placed his flat palm on Fred’s belly, sending shivers of pleasure through the voracious college student.

“What are you doing…?” Freddie asked, feeling somewhat uncertain about Will’s approach to “getting Brayden out of there.”

“Well,” Will sounded annoyed, “you know he can’t stay in there.” Will glanced down at the wobbling mass attached to his best friend. “So, we’re gonna get him out, right Alex?”

Alex squeaked and nodded, standing up to show that he ultimately knew that Freddie was in the wrong, despite not being able to pry his gaze away from his gut.

“You’ll let us do this, right, Fred? You agree that Brayden needs to get let out, right?”

This felt like gentle parenting. Of course Freddie knew that Brayden shouldn’t stay in his belly…but, it felt really nice to have his muscular body massaging him from the inside. Hesitating for a moment, Freddie gave in, “Yes, Will. You’re… right. Okay.” His response sounded far too robotic to be convincing, and he himself wasn’t convinced about letting Brayden go. His belly, for the first time in so long, felt full and satiated. Why couldn’t he enjoy this for just a little while longer? Freddie, saddened by their soon-to-be separation, rubbed his belly fondly and patted his stomach where he thought Brayden’s head would be. Then, the thought hit him, “Wait, how are we going to get him out?”

Will answered, matter of factly, “Easy, the same way he went in.” Will stripped his shirt, revealing his own chiseled torso. While not as toned and jacked as Brayden, Will had been hitting the gym alongside Freddie, and he managed to build up a nice amount of bulk over the years. Why exactly he needed to take his shirt off, Freddie was unsure, but he explained his plan. He took a deep breath, as if to say “why am I friends with these lunatics,” but he spoke with a cool head, “Alright, we’re gonna tie this bed sheet around my waist and Alex will hold on to it for dear life. Freddie, do I have your word you won’t…do the same thing to me that you did to Brayden?”

Freddie was unfailingly loyal, and he would never betray a friend. In essence, that was how he swallowed Brayden in the first place—he was just fulfilling Brayden’s wishes to be in his belly. To that end, he responded, “You do.”

Will still knew Freddie like the back of his hand, so he truly wasn’t worried about Freddie’s gluttony getting in the way. Plus, with his promise, Will’s determination was cemented into fruition. “Good, what we’re gonna do is have Freddie…take me in…then I’m gonna hold on tight to Brayden. You two will pull the both of us out together, understand?”

The two nodded in unison, giving way to their group-leader. Freddie’s stomach growled, which he silently cursed for being excited to have Will down his throat. Now that he knew he could swallow someone as big as Brayden, he wanted to test the waters more. Still, he made a promise, and he intended to keep it. The nagging thought plagued him, however: what about what Brayden wanted? The reality, something Will and seemingly Alex refused to believe, was that Brayden wanted to be swallowed up by Freddie. Regardless, the plan was almost in motion. Like a high-stakes bank heist, Freddie and Will and Alex all steeled themselves for what was to come.

“I can’t believe you, man. How did you even…” Will sighed and shook his head before tying the final knot around his waist. He awkwardly approached Freddie, unsure of how to begin this strangely erotic process. He participated earlier in the banter about Freddie’s belly, but he never imagined it would get this…peculiar. Turning back to Alex, the two exchanged a look, regarding each other about their ravenous friend and the trouble he’s caused. Alex’s knuckles whitened around the bed sheet, and Freddie started feeling guilty only because of the gravity Will was treating this situation with. With a stern look, Will demanded of his big-bellied friend, “Don’t swallow. Let me do the moving, okay? I swear, Freddie, if you gulp me down like Brayden,” he dared a look at Freddie’s wobbling gut, “...just, don’t.”

Freddie nodded profusely, obeying without hesitation. Despite that, his belly growled. “Do I open wide, or…”

“Don’t make it weird, bro.”

Freddie didn’t know how to make this situation any less odd, but he opened his maw once again that night, ready to take Will into his stomach. Will jumped up and down a few times and shook himself out, as if he was preparing for a sporting event. Freddie just sat there, wrapping his hands around the obscene dome of his gut. After several long, tense moments, Will approached Freddie, eyes narrowed. Freddie tried to relax, spreading his legs out and resting his arms on the back of the couch. He figured having his arms away from Will would make it harder for him to want to take control and start pushing Will deeper down his velvety gullet. However, in Will’s perspective, he only saw Freddie getting ready for another taste of friend. He shook it off. This was Freddie—one of his best friends—and Freddie would never break a promise.

Will leaned down and put a finger in Freddie’s open, awaiting, and salivating mouth. The group leader shuddered like a withering plant. The hot, slimy texture from his friend’s tongue wrapped around his finger like a snake enveloping its prey. Fred stared deep into Will’s hazel eyes, waiting in anxious anticipation for another taste of his friend. His leg started bouncing in an attempt to stop himself from swallowing more of his friend down his throat. Every impulse in Freddie’s body was screaming for him to add Will to the bulge in his belly—to reunite him and Brayden. But, he resisted. He made a promise, and he was going to keep it.

After what felt like years, Will pushed his other hand into Fred’s mouth and began to dive deeper into the hot, wet confines of Freddie’s throat. It smelled rancid: a half digested mixture of the sushi Freddie devoured earlier and Brayden’s cologne burned the nostrils like a chemical accident. Freddie eagerly accepted Will’s arms down his throat, feeling the familliar bulge in his diaphragm that Brayden made in his similar descent. With an iron will, Freddie didn’t swallow, almost choking himself just to appease Will’s request. His friend was clearly uncomfortable as his head and shoulders slid into Fred’s unhinged gullet, but he was doing this for Brayden. Freddie looked down at Alex, who was still eyeing his gut with a trance-like stare. Alex was so encapsulated by watching Freddie open up wide enough for Will to fit inside that he began to lose his grip on the bed sheet that tethered the group leader to the outside world. Then, an unfortunate series of events took place.

Freddie moaned, trying to get Alex’s attention. He pointed to the bedsheet loose in Alex’s hands, but in doing so, Freddie’s moan turned into a cough, then a gag, then a deep, guttural, slow swallow. The two boys heard Will yelling from inside. Freddie had done the one thing Will had asked him not to. Freddie could feel Will’s head and arms enter his stomach chamber with a wet, slimy squelch. Freddie bucked his hips, fraught with desperation to fit the rest of his friend down his gullet. Rivers of drool pooled out of Fred’s mouth, lubricating his friend and dropping onto the couch with loud, rhythmic plopping noises. To try and quell his urges, Freddie thrummed his belly roughly, hoping that Brayden alone would satiate his desires. Unfortunately, his friend seemed to have other plans that would make that difficult.

Deep breaths through the nose eventually let Freddie calm down and excruciatingly, painfully, finally let him resist the overbearing urge to belly the rest of Will. Nodding his head at Alex, Freddie patted his monstrous gut, telling Will and Brayden that it was okay to come up. They waited for a moment, then two, then for about thirty seconds, nothing happened. Freddie’s two friends inside his digestive tract seemed to be arguing about something. Faint, muffled voices could be heard that carried the tone of urgency and intensity. Then, all of a sudden, Will was yanked deeper into Freddie’s throat. Eyes wide, Freddie looked at Alex bewildered. Freddie didn’t swallow, and Will certainly didn’t want to go any deeper into his friend’s belly, so what was going on? Another yank pulled Will’s thighs down Fred’s drooling maw, happily accepting more food whether Freddie’s mind wanted it or not. The two outside started panicking, not knowing how Will was getting pulled deeper.

“What the hell do I do?” Alex practically shrieked, watching Will get pulled deeper into Freddie, ballooning out his gut even more.

Freddie flew his arms out to the side in an “I don’t know” gesture. Feeling Will started kicking his legs in a frenetic passion, he signaling to both guys to pull him out. Through all the shock and confusion, both guys took a hold of Will by the legs, getting ready to wrench him out. They pulled and pulled to no avail. Something was keeping Will stuck inside Freddie’s throat, pulling him deeper…

“Come on, Will, just give in!” Brayden yanked Will’s slippery torso deeper into Freddie’s stomach chamber. He had been quietly pleasuring himself since arriving in the pit of Fred’s belly, listening intently to the commotion going on outside. Will’s plan was to excavate him from Fred’s belly, but he knew that this was exactly where he was meant to be. He did force-feed himself to Freddie, after all, so he was here purely because he wanted to be in here. Will didn’t seem to grasp that. What’s worse, he didn’t understand like Brayden did how amazing it was to be inside of Freddie’s gut. So, in an attempt to get Freddie’s belly stretched even further, and to allow Brayden to stay inside the hot, wet, gurgly confines of his friend’s gut, Brayden used his overt strength to pull Will in alongside him.

“Let go of me man! Are you insane?” Will wriggled from Brayden’s grasp only to be clung onto again. Will’s psychopath of a friend was trying to get them both stuck in Freddie’s belly, even though Will was trying to rescue Brayden.

Slippery as it was, Brayden was by far the strongest and largest in the friend group. Will had no purchase to cling to, and Freddie and Alex on the outside couldn’t contest Brayden's strength and devotion to Freddie’s gut at once. Grasping Will’s moist skin by the armpits, Brayden tugged hard, feeling something come loose. With a great strain, Brayden’s constant back days came in great use as he pulled Will all the way inside Freddie’s stomach chamber, feeling the cramped confines of Fred’s belly expand two-fold to fit in two of his best friends now as opposed to the one.

“There you go,” Brayden panted, “see how nice it is in here? Come on bro, admit it, you know you want to…” Brayden rubbed over his friend's naked torso and legs, covering him with Freddie’s stomach juices. In here, the noise was deafening. Their glutton of a friend’s belly truly never knew a limit, seeing as how Fred’s belly easily contained both Brayden and Will now. His shorts had inexplicably excused themselves from Will’s legs, leaving him completely naked alongside Brayden. Will hated that his body was accepting this, as his cock was rock hard alongside his other belly-filler that he used to call a friend. Very proud of himself, Brayden nudged the stomach walls of his friend, signaling to the young predator that he had fulfilled his belly even more.

Outside, a shocked silence filled the room, broken up by Freddie’s belly, which was a harbinger for stomach gurgles and groans. Freddie smacked his lips and limply played with the bedsheet that was once anchoring Will to the outside and was now attached to nothing. With an immense amount of guilt, his primary thought was that he wished he had gotten to savor Will a bit more before feeling him grow his belly out twice as big. He patted his disproportionately rounded gut and looked up to Alex.

“So, uh…” Freddie patted his belly, “what now?”

A huge burp erupted from Fred’s mouth, caused by the fighting that seemed to be happening inside his belly. As a consequence, Will’s gym shorts came flying out of Freddie’s mouth and slapped Alex directly in the face. The saliva-covered fabric seemed to be all that was left of their friend, if you discounted the titanic belly Freddie now sported and rubbed over possessively. Looking down, Freddie saw the bulges of Brayden’s hands, and he began to piece together what had happened.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP — BBBBBBBWWWWAAAAAAUUUUUUURRRRRPPPPPP — BBBBUUURRRRPPPPP – “Fuck!”

“I think, uhh,” Freddie rubbed his chin, unsure how to say this in a way that sounded digestible, “I think that Brayden pulled Will down into my belly. I mean…You saw me. I didn’t swallow him once. I kept my promise, and yet, he’s…” Freddie trailed off and looked down at the squirming bulges that comprised his stretched abdomen.

“Huh… Will’s in there, too.” Alex spoke like he was hypnotized. Without warning, he kneeled down and began rubbing the crest of Freddie’s belly with a sensual spark of desire. Eye to eye with Freddie’s navel, Alex gave his friend’s belly button a light kiss.

Exasperated, Freddie belched and put his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his stomach. Now he had two friends in here, and it felt so, so good. But, Will definitely wasn’t happy in there, and Alex wasn’t going to be of any help getting him out. Brayden couldn’t be more overjoyed, having added not only himself but Will in there, too. Leaning back, Freddie took a look at his engorged stomach with a little bit of awe. As ashamed he was to admit it, he was really proud of how he could fit two whole guys in there at once. The curve, the spherical shape, the noises his gut made as it sloshes around his food—Freddie was pretty much in heaven. Plus, Alex rubbing his belly, hypnotically fixated on his aptitude for swallowing his friends whole, which really helped make the college student feel great.

Inside, the belly-captives were essentially oil-wrestling, with Brayden favored as the clear victor. Freddie’s jam-packed gut kneaded them together, constantly rubbing cocks in the midst of their violence.

“Fuck you!” Will panted, finding difficulty in finding oxygen within the moist, squishy belly. His cock was at full mast, constantly getting stimulated by the wet, enveloping organ that contained him as well as Brayden’s brash movements.

“We belong in here, bro! Don’t you like how it feels?” Brayden pushed Will to the bottom of the belly, soaking his body in the mush that Freddie devoured at dinner. Pinning Will’s wrists next to his head, Brayden slowly lowered his torso to sit on Will, letting his wet, hard cock slide up into Brayden’s lubricated hole. Both boys moaned in unison, quickly shifting the vibe inside Freddie’s belly. What once was a sweaty mess of hatred and violence quickly turned into a sloppy, sweltering fuck session. Both guys dropped their hands and immediately clung to the other, kissing each other with so much passion that any romance movie would be jealous. The soft, wet folds of Freddie’s belly really did a number on both guys’ sex drive. Brayden began bouncing on Will’s leaking cock, whilst Will groped Brayden’s pecs for dear life as he was ridden within an inch of his life. 

“Fuck, me, you take that cock so well,” Will breathed, completely forgetting how angry he was at the meathead.

“Yeah, you like that, Will? You like how your big cock feels in my ass?” Brayden spat, cupping Will’s head and quickening his pace, grinding his bubble butt harder onto his friend. Will’s thick meat slid easily in and out of Brayden’s plump cheeks, wet slapping sounds accompanying each bounce on his cock. On the outside, this sloppy sex was stirring up a great deal of gas for Freddie.

BBBBUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPP — BBBBBBWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

“Ugh, what the hell are they doing in there?” Freddie touched his belly delicately as if it were about to explode. After a prolonged lack of movement, his gut started shifting back and forth in a rhythmic kind of motion. He seriously didn’t know what the guys were up to, but it really made his belly feel good with all of the movement inside. 

BBBUUUURRRRPPPPP UUURRPPP

“Jesus, they’re really moving around in there,” Alex looked up for the first time in a long while. His own aching cock was visible through his shorts, yet Freddie tried not to pay attention to his friend’s throbbing member.

This night couldn’t have been more strange, so Freddie decided to throw the towel in and go crazy with his ambitions. He had already swallowed two thirds of his friend group. He might as well finish the last guy off. His belly still had room for more, and he knew that Alex would taste delicious. Freddie, ever rubbing his belly, casually spoke, “So how do you want to go down?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Yeah. So how do you want to go down? Feet or head first?” Freddie seemed transfixed on a spot on his stomach as he rubbed it without making eye contact. He belched out the side of his mouth, a casual display of his immense greed.

“Freddie…no…” Alex wanted to back away, but Freddie quickly seized him by the wrist. His stomach made a cacophonous sloshing sound with the other guys inside.

“Don’t worry, bro. It’ll be fine. Just tell me how you wanna — BBBBUUUUUURRRRRRRPPPPPPPP — go in.” Freddie’s casual tone for speaking about swallowing up his last friend was chilling. For the first time this night, Freddie was taking charge of the situation and doing exactly what he wanted to do. No more meals would shove themselves down his gullet; he was gonna gulp down someone for himself. And, as it happens, Alex was going to be that someone. “Which way will it be?”

Alex was tugged down onto the couch to meet Freddie eye-to-eye. He couldn’t help but stare further at his friend’s massive belly that held two of his friends within it. Gulping nervously, he suddenly felt like he was trapped in this situation. Will wasn’t here to save him. In fact, Will had also fallen victim to Fred’s belly. Brayden wasn’t here, either, to try and knock some sense into the predator. Brayden also ended up inside Freddie’s hungry tummy. These thoughts sent Alex reeling. How did Freddie do this? How could he do this? Why was he so casual about gulping down his entire friend group that he's been with for years? As he pondered this question, Freddie gave up on waiting for an answer. He clicked his tongue, chuckled, and licked Alex’s neck, tasting his final meal for the night.

“God, you taste so fucking delicious. Just as meaty as Brayden, and almost as salty as Will. You’re gonna feel so good going down, Alex.”

“F-Freddie, please,” Alex whimpered, cowering at his friend’s curious tongue. This sudden change in attitude was like a piercing bullet to the heart, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“Shhh,” Freddie whispered, “hear that…?” The predator’s stomach let out a long, deep rumble, sounding like a brutal threat to anyone that wasn’t Freddie. “I'm still hungry for more, Alex. You know what that means,” Fred licked hip lips.

“No. No, please! Feddie, I’m your friend, I’m not—”

Alex was cut off by Freddie wolfing down his head, forcing him in like he was meant to be dessert for his hungry friend. The salacious, formidable predator bunched up Alex’s shoulders and pulled his delectable body deeper into his throat. Inside his belly, the other two were still brutally fucking, so poor Alex would be having the shock of his life once he was swallowed down further. Freddie, in a euphoric fervor, did not seem to care about Alex’s well-being at the moment. His only concern was filling up his avaricious belly, which he was beginning to love and cherish more and more now. Alex’s flavor was a symphonic mix of his other two friends, which cascaded down his throat and kindled a warm, pure glow of pleasure in the pit of Freddie’s being. He moaned out, loudly signalling to Alex how good he tasted.

Freddie’s meal began struggling desperately for escape; however, he would find no solace besides the warm-wet embrace of Fred’s esophagus and digestive tract. Still, Alex began kicking his legs out, shouting for help. Unfortunately, all he looked like was a fish out of water, and Freddie was bringing him back into the sea. His severe gluttony propelled him to swallow more of Alex down, completely consuming his torso in a rapacious swallow. His throat muscles contracted against his friend, tightening then opening wide to allow his journey deeper into the yearning belly. For the third time that night, Freddie’s esophageal sphincter opened up, welcoming Alex’s head into his chamber, rife with activity.

Freddie pondered for a moment if what he was doing was right, but his head was far too clouded with how big his belly was going to be once Alex was safely tucked inside. A man’s gotta eat, right? Sometimes, if you’re hungry enough, you just need to make do with what’s around you, right? Freddie patted himself on the back for being resourceful and tilted his head back, letting Alex’s lower half slowly slide down into his belly. Like this, Fred could feel his stomach actively bloating out, which felt like a constant stimulation of satisfying pleasure, and he could also watch as Alex’s legs disappeared behind his plush lips, which was equally as fulfilling. A low, wet, sliding noise sounded as his tortured friend thrashed wildly but ultimately slipped deeper and deeper into his friend’s throat. In his mouth, a pool of saliva had formed, making Alex nice and wet to facilitate his travels. If Freddie could be honest with himself, this was amazing. It felt so good to be able to swallow his friends whole, and as time passed, he was convincing himself that this is where they belonged—inside his belly, gurgling and churning away.

After an agonizingly long time for Alex but a tragically brief time for Freddie, gravity had done its job. Alex was safely past Freddie’s open maw. He gulped one time, sending Alex’s feet barrelling into his rapidly growing gut. When his gargantuan stomach rounded out, he felt relieved to have finally finished his dinner for the night. He leaned down and kissed his squirming belly: a monument to his insatiable hunger.

“Fuck me, you guys were good,” he moaned. “Just look at this thing! You made me huge, but it feels so good– UUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP–settle down in there, okay you guys?”

Fred jostled his belly, hearing the roaring sloshes and feeling the frenetic movements inside of it. If he could reach his aching cock around his behemoth of a belly, he would have ejaculated twenty times by now. Who knew the process of swallowing your entire friend group whole could be so erotic? With a herculean effort, Freddie used the momentum of his belly to stand himself up and begin something of a penguin waddle over to Alex’s bedroom where he would sleep these guys off for the night. His hands were magnetic to his belly—Freddie was addicted to feeling his stomach gurgle around his friends, coating them in his juices and massaging their meat until they were tender. He had to pause in the hallway to take deep breaths because walking around while carrying your best friends in your stomach was tiring work. Plus, his friends were still definitely moving around in there. It seemed like they didn’t want to give up just yet.

As Fred finally made his way to Alex’s soft, queen-sized bed, Brayden, Will, and now Alex were all about to reach their climax. Somehow, Will had maneuvered Brayden to the middle of Freddie’s gut so he could fuck his mouth. As he was doing so, Alex spilled into the stomach chamber with them, and Brayden taunted Alex with his perky bubble butt. Alex figured he might as well because there was nothing else to do, so he joined in on the fun, ravaging Brayden’s used hole with his rock-hard dick. The boys, now engaged in a passionate threesome, were kicking up a lot of gas for poor Freddie, who was belching up a storm on the outside. The air gradually became more stale as time passed. To Freddie, this was just a food coma after a big meal, but to his friends, this was their last night to truly live, so they had to make everything worth it. As Alex and Will Eiffel Towered Brayden, they kissed deeply whilst pumping in and out of their muscular friend. The oxygen supply was slowly running out, so their movements quickened, knowing they had little time left. With a rough pounding, all three guys came gallons at the same time, letting their cum paint Brayden and the stomach walls that kneaded them like dough.

“Fuck..!” Brayden, exclaimed, short of breath. “I love you guys…Fuck you Brayden,” he said, kissing him angrily on the lips.

“You were the best friends I’ve ever had,” Alex rubbed his cock between Brayden’s ass cheeks and collapsed onto his back.

“I’m glad we’re all here to experience this together,” Brayden moaned, grinding against Alex and kissing Will deeply.

With that, the sweltering confines of Freddie’s belly took control, siphoning any oxygen the boys might’ve had left over and replacing it with digestive enzymes and stomach juices. It was unfortunate, but it’s not like anyone there didn’t know what happens inside a hungry belly. In a hazy fervor of passion and lust, the guys all fell asleep on top of each other, letting Freddie’s belly get to work on them.

Freddie, still dozing, woke up in the middle of the night to rub his belly and feel his friends stop moving. He groaned in dissatisfaction, as their movements felt really good, but he rubbed his belly once more and smiled, cooing softly to them, “You guys tasted so good. Thank you for filling me up, bros.”

The morning sun-rays filtered through Alex’s blinds like beams of heaven themselves illuminating Alex’s bedroom. Brayden woke up first, just in time to see Freddie entering the room, four coffee mugs in hand. He himself looked like an angel with his short, curly hair, striped boxers, and muscular frame. And, curiously, his flat six-pack had returned to its shredded state. His predatory friend beamed at Brayden lovingly before handing him a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” Freddie fluttered his eyelashes in a mock-girlfriend type of manner to Brayden, who looked down at his coffee with a confused expression, like it was drugged.

“What…? But didn’t you…?” Brayden trailed off, still feeling somewhat sticky. He was naked, which was bizarre, given that Freddie didn’t seem off-put by it in the slightest. Looking over, he saw two other naked, sleeping figures—Alex and Will—cuddled up against each other tightly and snoring softly. They looked cute together, but that didn’t shake the confusion Brayden felt stirring in him.

“I did,” Freddie admitted, nodding his head and taking a sip of coffee casually. “But, Bray, you know me enough by now, don’t you? You knew you guys were never actually on the menu…”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Brayden slumped, somewhat disappointed, and Freddie climbed into bed next to his larger friend to comfort him about not being digested.

Rubbing Bray’s back in slow circles, Freddie squeezed next to him and whispered, “And, plus, I want…” Freddie murmured something into his coffee mug that Brayden couldn’t hear.

“Huh?”

“I wanted…”

“Freddie, speak up bro.”

“I want to do it again with you guys. Here, listen,” Freddie’s stomach was growling with a deep primal hunger. Last night had unlocked something in him that needed satisfying.

Brayden looked at Freddie in his charming, handsome face, taking a moment to analyze and scan his friend’s handsome features. The, Brayden leaned in slowly and kissed Freddie passionately on the lips. Freddie was taken aback, but he put his coffee mug on a bedside table and kissed Bradyen back with equal amounts of lust.

The two boys went on like that for quite some time, fooling around with each other and listening to Freddie’s stomach growl. Eventually, Will woke up to the sight of Brayden’s hand wrapped around Freddie’s massive cock and he jumped back in shock. The two laughed and decided to wake Alex up to explain everything that had happened last night. After a great deal of apologizing from Freddie for making it seem like they were his food (Surprisingly, Will forgave him almost instantly, but Alex needed more convincing), and after a lot of…previously unsurfaced feelings were hashed out in the folds of Freddie’s belly, the guys all took turns washing up in Alex’s shower, making sure Freddie’s digestive juices weren’t anywhere on their person, they all got together to walk down to a breakfast place down the street (Freddie’s idea, of course).

Brayden grabbed Freddie by the elbow before he went out the door to follow Will and Alex, who were already down onto the street. Sheepishly, Brayden asked, “Hey, Freddie?”

“Yeah Bray?”

“One day, will you let me stay in there,” Brayden nodded down at Fred’s stomach. “Like, permanently.”

Freddie smiled warmly, kissing Brayden on the cheek, “Sure thing, bro. One day. But for now, let’s just go get breakfast.” Freddie’s belly rumbled softly, telling them it was time to go.

In elation, Brayden picked up Freddie with ease, spinning him around several times and kissing Freddie everywhere he could think of, stopping for a moment at his abdomen, giving a slower, more meaningful kiss there, which earned him a deep growl. Freddie blushed a crimson scarlet, barely able to hold himself back from swallowing his friend right then and there. “Alright, Bray, you’ve had your fun. Let’s go catch up with the others. I’m starving.”

[novascharms]

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 14.9 chapter index — next. chap.

c.w — smut, p in v masterlist

a.n — you did read that right. this has turned into a 15000 word monster... i'm not sure how it happened. ANYWAY. this is very late and i'm so very sorry. gramps went into emergency surgery, i started school and had the worst period cramps of my life but we all good, everything is much better now. i will be updating the other four parts very soon. (hopefully tee hee)

epilogue - part one

sunday, march 2nd

rafe was a heavy sleeper. you never knew that—not until now. he slept like a log, completely undisturbed despite the world moving around him. even with the sun pouring through the windows, turning his hair and eyelashes a shade of gold so soft it looked spun from honey, even with the familiar morning symphony of your family filling the house—your sister's giggles echoing from the yard as she played with your mom, your little brother waddling through the living room, bottle clutched in his tiny hands as he repeatedly bumped his head against rafe’s thigh—he didn’t so much as stir.  

he should consider himself lucky. you, on the other hand, could wake up from the mere sound of a door creaking open down the hall.  

you tried to imagine him in your bed instead of sprawled across your couch, head buried in your pillows, wrapped up in your blanket. would he sleep on the left or the right? hopefully the left, since you slept on the right—closest to the window, where the first light of morning always found you.  

did he dream? or did he have nightmares? did he mumble in his sleep? would you wake up to hear him speaking in slurred, sleepy gibberish, too out of it to make sense?  

did he sleep in sweats? pajamas? a button-up? shirtless? that felt very much like rafe, but you didn’t know. not yet, at least.  

did he linger in bed for thirty minutes before dragging himself up, or was he like you? someone who counted down from five to one and forced temselves up at one.

endless possibilities.

and something inside you whispered that you would find out. maybe not today. maybe not tomorrow. but the day would come, and when it did, you'd cherish it.  

you'd watch him just like you were watching him now, cataloging every detail—the way his lashes rested against his cheek, the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. you’d memorize how his hair fell, how his lips looked impossibly soft, how the little crease between his brows never quite smoothed out, even in sleep. and you'd be allowed. 

you wouldn’t have to stop yourself from reaching out.  

you wouldn’t have to fight the urge to kiss him.  

because he would be yours. completely, irrevocably yours.  

“take a picture, it'll last longer.”  

your sister’s voice snapped you from your thoughts. you barely spared her a glance, still leaning against the archway separating the living room from the dining room, cradling a mug of now-cold tea in your hands.  

“go away,” you murmured, voice quiet but firm.  

she was right, but she could be right somewhere else.  

you'd been staring at him for well over fifteen minutes, still in your pajamas, unable to make yourself move, unable to be anywhere else. you had already called off work because the thought of leaving right now—leaving him—felt unbearable.  

were you one of those girlfriend? the kind who couldn’t stay away, who hovered and obsessed?  

girlfriend felt too soon.  

but then again, rafe had told you he loved you. twelve hours, thirteen minutes, and fifty-four seconds ago, to be exact. 

your dad passed by, replacing your cold mug with a fresh one, steam curling in the air. you thanked him absentmindedly, fingers wrapping around the warmth.  

what kind of boyfriend would rafe be?  

you already knew he was touchy, that he liked kissing, that he had a habit of nuzzling the tip of his nose against yours, of holding eye contact just a little too long when you weren’t paying attention. he liked to watch you, studying you as you tutored him, as you cleaned, as if every little thing you did was worth committing to memory.  

but what about the rest?  

would he bring you flowers? take you to the movies, or more late-night drives along the coast? would he want to sit on the beach with you until the sky turned soft with morning, or would he prefer extravagant dates, something grand and exciting?  

what kind of gifts would he like?  

would he appreciate personalized things—carefully written ‘open when’ letters, little boxes filled with things meant just for him—or was he more materialistic? would he want his favorite cologne, designer watches, the kinds of things that held status?  

or would he prefer something he could do? something he could experience—a trip, an activity, something he could share with you or his friends?  

you’d probably just get him all of it. just to be sure.  

you’d only had one boyfriend before—not that you and rafe were official yet, but still.  

being a girlfriend the first time had been… odd.  

like having a boy who was a friend, and sometimes he kissed you, and it was just… fine.  

but with rafe?  

it felt nothing like that.  

and god, you wanted to do it right.  

maybe there was a research paper somewhere on how to be a good girlfriend.  

not that it mattered. rafe made it easy.  

he made your heart stutter, your stomach twist, your cheeks burn. he made you want to be good to him. to be perfect for him.  

and maybe that was impossible.  

but you would try.

rafe stirred, his arm lifting sluggishly to rub at his eyes, fingers dragging through the remnants of sleep. the motion caught your little brother’s attention immediately, his tiny head snapping up, curiosity flickering across his face at the sudden movement in the room. once he realized rafe was awake, he held out his arms in a way that said 'pick me up before i hurl this bottle at someone.'

"hey, buddy…" rafe rasped, voice thick with sleep as he reached for him, lifting him effortlessly and settling him onto his chest.  

you stayed still, watching in silence, your body at ease yet your heart hammering against your ribs. it was as if you could physically feel it swell, stretching wide with a warmth so intense it made your breath hitch.  

and then, as if he could sense it, his eyes found yours. sleepy, unfocused, but piercing all the same. that disarming gaze of his tugged at something deep within you, pulling you toward him like gravity itself. god, you wanted to go to him. to press yourself against him, burrow into his warmth, tuck your face into the crook of his neck and let the rest of the world fall away.  

"morning."  

his voice was quiet, rough around the edges, heavy with sleep. it was almost ridiculous how the sound of it sent tingles through every nerve in your body, warm and electric, curling low in your stomach.  

"morning."

your own voice was steadier than you felt, but your feet wouldn’t move. he looked so cozy—messy hair, sleepy eyes, the laziest, softest smile pulling at his lips. he was huggable, he was yours, and the ache to touch him, to climb into his space, to sink into his warmth, made your fingers twitch at your sides.  

his head rested against the couch arm, eyes impossibly tender as they traced over you.  

"gonna stay over there?"

he was almost smiling, teasing, but something expectant threaded through the words—something hopeful.  

your little brother wiggled off his chest and padded away, but rafe didn’t look away, didn’t so much as blink. he was watching you now, watching the hesitation in your stance, the way your weight shifted like you were trying to resist something inevitable.  

"i'm enjoying the view."

you grinned, and the corner of his lips twitched, a smirk creeping in slow and lazy.  

"taking in the sights?"

you nodded.  

"like what you see?" his brows lifted slightly, smirk deepening. "hope i’m up to standard."

another nod, another hum of approval.  

and then, softer—almost pleading—  

"c’mere."

your body moved before your mind could catch up. one second, you were standing. the next, you were there, sinking into him, his hands finding your waist as your knees pressed into the cushions.  

the need to touch him was unbearable, searing through your veins, clawing at your ribs.  

and then, finally, it hit you—you can.  

as much as you want. as long as you want.  

because he was yours.  

not some far-off dream.  

not a delusion.  

real.

your hands found his chest first, smoothing over the fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin through the cotton. slowly, they traveled upward, fingers brushing over his throat, his jaw, until your palms cradled his face, your thumb tracing the high point of his cheekbone.  

rafe turned into your touch, his lips brushing against the heel of your palm.  

"sleep okay?" he murmured, though there was a knowing edge to it, a quiet concern that made your stomach twist.  

because you both knew why he was asking.  

last night, by the time you’d finally come inside, you were wrecked. tear-streaked, hiccuping, clinging to rafe like he was the only thing tethering you to the earth. you hadn’t wanted him to sleep on the couch. you had fought him on it, insisted, pleaded, but somehow—you weren’t even sure how—he had won that fight. maybe it was the exhaustion. maybe it was the way your body had already been shutting down from the sheer weight of the night.  

"me? i'm not the one who slept on the couch."

you narrowed your eyes, fingers still cupping his face, and his lips quirked at your pointed tone.  

"i slept good," he assured you. "hard surfaces are better for your back, you know?"  

you snorted, unconvinced. "got facts now, huh? copying me, cameron?"  

he chuckled, tilting his head against your palm, lashes fluttering briefly as he stretched out with a groan.  

"didn’t you know? i’m coming for your spot."  

your smile widened. "you sure you want that? i go to the library for fun, you know?"  

rafe made a face, and you laughed.  

"still want me?" you teased, only half joking.  

he tilted his head slightly, considering. for half a second.  

then, he kissed you.  

soft. chaste. a barely-there press of lips that still managed to steal the breath from your lungs. and god, you didn’t care that he hadn’t brushed his teeth yet—you’d kiss him like this forever if he let you.  

when he pulled back, his nose nudged yours.  

"the real question is…" his voice was low, careful, like he was treading unsteady ground. "will you still have me?"  

you exhaled shakily, eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment, just soaking him in.  

the past twenty-four hours had been an emotional wreckage. you had him, then you lost him, then you had him again in the span of a few, heart-crushing, life-altering hours.  

it was enough to make your head spin.  

enough to make you terrified that you could lose him just as easily.  

"that's a silly question."

your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close, and he melted into you, hands slipping around your waist, tugging you even closer until you could feel his heartbeat against your own.  

"is it?" he murmured, his fingers dragging along the length of your spine, leaving shivers in their wake.  

"it is," you whispered. "m’never letting you go."  

his hold tightened.  

"you promise?"  

the words were barely audible, spoken against your skin, fragile in the way only he could be.  

you squeezed him, felt his heartbeat against your own.  

"cross my heart."

after a surprisingly normal breakfast, rafe had stepped outside to take a phone call. judging by the rare, genuine smile pulling at his lips, you were pretty sure it was sarah. his sister was one of the few people who could make him look like that—unguarded, softened.  

you were elbow-deep in soapy water, stacking dishes into the drying rack, when your mom poked her head into the kitchen. her eyes twinkled with thinly veiled curiosity.  

“so,” she started, dragging out the word as she leaned against the counter.  

you turned, brows lifting. “so?”  

her gaze flicked meaningfully toward the glass doors, where rafe was pacing the length of your backyard, phone in hand. “do you have a boy who is a little more than a friend?” she asked, feigning nonchalance.  

a smirk tugged at your lips. “mm, are you asking if rafe is my boyfriend?”  

“am i asking if the boy who has been sleeping on my couch and practically living in my house for the past two months is your boyfriend now? yes, i just might be.” she deadpanned, eyes shifting between you and the boy outside.  

you smiled to yourself, wiping down a plate. “nope.”  

“no?” your dad’s voice came out of nowhere, making you nearly jump. you turned to see him standing in the doorway, confusion written all over his face.  

your mom echoed his disbelief. “no?”  

you nodded, amused. “not yet.”  

your dad huffed, crossing his arms. “not yet? well, what the hell is his plan? because i’m not about to have some kid walking in and out of this house—”  

before he could finish his sentence, the sliding door creaked open. rafe stepped inside, still distracted by his phone, but when the room fell into a tense silence, his eyes flickered up.  

his brows furrowed. “uh… hey, guys…” his gaze found yours, searching. “am i interrupting or…?”  

you shook your head a little too quickly. “no, no. they were just wondering what time we got home last night.” you turned to your parents, forcing a casual tone. “around ten, i think. you had only just gone to bed.”  

your mom pursed her lips before smiling at rafe. “uh huh. well, hope the couch wasn’t too terrible. it’s not exactly made for sleeping.”  

rafe waved a hand dismissively. “it was fine. i should’ve asked before crashing, it was kind of a last-minute thing.”  

your dad, who moments ago was seconds away from throwing him out, suddenly beamed. “that’s alright, you’re always welcome here, son.”  

you gawked at him, utterly incredulous, but he ignored you.  

your mom grabbed your dad’s arm, tugging him toward the hallway. “well, we should go because…” she shot him a pointed look, silently urging him to come up with an excuse.  

“because…” he faltered, then suddenly snapped his fingers. “we have children! yes, we should check on our other children. the little one’s been, uh… constipated lately—”  

their voices trailed off as they disappeared down the hall, leaving you blinking after them.  

“your parents are funny,” rafe murmured, stepping up behind you. you barely had time to react before he dropped his head atop yours, the warmth of his body settling against your back.  

“they’re weird,” you corrected.  

he chuckled, a quiet, deep sound. “they’re a little weird.”  

his breath was warm against your temple, the closeness of him making your chest feel tight in a way you weren’t sure how to name.  

“want me to help you dry those?” he asked softly.  

you nodded, unable to stop the smile curling at your lips. “here.”  

you handed him a mug, and he slid away just enough to grab a dish towel, falling into step beside you.

"were you on the phone with sarah?” you ask quietly, unable to hide your curiosity.  

rafe nods, still absentmindedly drying the dish in his hands. “yeah, she was asking if i was eating dinner with them tonight. we’re in that phase where my parents act super happy that she’s home—before they start picking fights with her.”  

your brows pull together. “they didn’t know she was coming back?”  

“no, they did. it was only really a surprise for me.”  

your stomach twists a little at that. “sorry it didn’t go exactly as planned,” you murmur, voice laced with quiet regret.  

rafe doesn’t answer right away. instead, he gently takes the cup from your hands, setting it down on the counter before his fingers slip around yours, warm and firm. “i’m the one who should apologize,” he says, voice thick with sincerity. “it happened at my house, with my friends. i invited you. i should’ve—i should’ve been better. if i knew—”  

“you already apologized,” you cut in softly. “a couple of times, actually. and it’s okay. you didn’t know.” you hesitate, swallowing the lump in your throat. “i also have fault in this, you know?” you look away for a second before meeting his eyes again. “i was scared. scared to communicate, to let you all the way in, to trust you sometimes. i can say without a doubt that if i’d handled a few things differently, we wouldn’t be where we are.”  

rafe tilts his head side to side, clearly disagreeing. “you don’t have any fault in this.” he tugs you closer, guiding your arms around his neck. “how were you supposed to trust me when you already knew what i was like? maybe not in detail, but the vague image was always there—even before cora said anything. you were protecting yourself. it’s one of the most human responses.”  

your lips part, ready to argue, but he beats you to it. “but,” he exhales, a tiny smirk playing at his lips, “i doubt i’ll win this fight, so let’s just agree to disagree.”  

he kisses you once, then again, softer this time, like the words themselves weren’t enough to settle it. your lips twitch with a smile you can’t control.  

“agree to disagree,” you whisper against his mouth before pressing a few more kisses to his lips, unable to stop yourself.  

he lets out a small chuckle, brushing the tip of his nose against yours, slow and affectionate. you think you could live in this quiet forever.  

“what time are you leaving?” your voice is quiet, already heavy with the weight of missing him before he’s even gone.

“soon,” he murmurs, his breath warm as it brushes against your temple, “but i’m coming back.”

your brows knit together, searching his face, his eyes, the way his lips barely quirk like he knows something you don’t. “you’re coming back?”

he nods, fingers grazing the curve of your jaw like he’s memorizing it. “there’s this girl…”

your smile is instant, soft and knowing. “mm?”

“she’s been running through my mind for so long,” he says, voice dipping lower, threading through your hair, “and i’m crazy about her.”

your grin spreads, helpless against the pull of him. “sounds serious.”

“yeah.” he smirks like he’s got a secret, and god, you love when he looks at you like that. “and i haven’t taken her on a date yet.”

you gasp, pressing a hand to your chest in mock scandal. “you haven’t taken her on a date yet?”

he shakes his head, feigning shame. “shameful, right?”

“absolutely. they should lock you up and throw away the key.”

his laughter rumbles between you, deep and warm, and you wish you could steal it, keep it somewhere safe. “damn,” he grins, pulling you closer. “throw away the key and everything?”

you nod solemnly. “except… if you can redeem yourself.”

he hums, amused. “redeem myself?”

you tip your chin up. “mmhm. like telling her where exactly you want to take her.”

his lips hover over yours, his voice a murmur against your mouth. “no can do. state secrets.” he presses a kiss to you, then another, softer between each word. “and we leave at four.”

your head spins. you barely register what he’s saying because all you can think about is the way he tastes, the way his hands tighten on your waist like he’d rather not let you go at all.

then he pulls back just enough to tilt his head, studying you like he’s about to say something important. “you should tell your parents you’re sleeping at hazel’s house,” he says casually, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, “and bring an overnight bag.”

your eyes widen. “an overnight bag?”

his smirk deepens at your reaction. “mmhm.”

“are we staying at your house?” you ask, suspicion creeping in.

he chuckles, shaking his head. “give me a little more credit than that.”

you narrow your eyes but let it slide. “okay… how should i dress if you won’t tell me where we’re going?”

he exhales, like he’s carefully picking his words. “it’s… outside. we’re walking around. not hiking or anything, but walking. like, imagine a museum—but it’s not a museum.”

you blink. “imagine a museum, but it’s not a museum?”

he nods, his grin tilting. “and bring warm clothes to sleep in.”

your stomach flips at that. he must notice because he laughs softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “no, we are not sleeping outside.”

relief floods you. “thank god,” you mumble. “i’d do a lot of things for you, but camping? not one of them.”

rafe grins, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. “camping is actually fun, you know,” he teases, his words muffled in your hair.

you let out a tiny, skeptical laugh. “yeah, the bugs, the grass, the dirt… my dream.”

his chest shakes with laughter, pressing his lips to your forehead. “you’re such a pessimist. they’re not bugs, they’re just little critters. it’s not grass and dirt,” he grins, “it’s nature and fresh air, and it’s good for your soul.”

“no, i’m a realist. and ‘critters’ do not sound better than bugs.”

his laughter softens, something deeper settling in his eyes as he looks at you. his arms tighten, holding you like he’s grounding himself in you, in this moment, in everything you are.

“you’re good for my soul,” you whisper, barely a breath between you. “that’s enough ‘good for the soul’ for me.”

his body relaxes against yours, the air shifting, something warm and certain pressing between your ribs. he leans down, lips brushing the top of your head, his breath stirring your hair.

“think it’s enough for me too, baby.”

you’d read somewhere that the brain falls in love in 0.2 seconds. a fraction of a moment—less than the blink of an eye—and suddenly, chemicals flood your system. dopamine, oxytocin, adrenaline. the same kind of high that leaves people breathless, euphoric, addicted.  

you never really believed it. 0.2 seconds? seriously? your brain had to have more fight in it than that. love seemed more complex, something slow-building, something earned. but now, pressed against rafe’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your cheek, the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his arms wrapped securely around you—you realize it wasn’t just true. it lasted a lot longer than that.  

and god, were you in trouble.  

eventually, rafe pulled himself away, murmuring something about needing to shower and change. he promised he’d be back at four, but you were too restless to wait. by two, you were already ready to go.  

you cleaned your room, checked over your schoolwork, called off volunteering, helped your mom downstairs—anything to burn through the extra energy buzzing beneath your skin. and still, there was too much time left.  

with nothing left to do, you were ready to just lie in bed and stare at the ceiling until you got a text from your friends.

“hey!” you greeted, too bright, too excited.  

three pairs of eyes blinked at you through the screen, varying degrees of shock and mild concern staring back.  

“hey… y/n,” hazel started cautiously, brows furrowed. “are you okay?”

only then did you remember—they had no idea what had happened after ivy left.  

by the time you finished telling them everything, their reactions were wildly different.  

hazel, unsurprisingly, remained skeptical. her lips pressed into a thin line as she folded her arms, eyes narrowing in that way that told you she was biting back several very strong opinions. “you need to be careful,” she warned. “i wouldn’t have taken him back on principle.”  

you rolled your eyes, already bracing for a future where hazel inevitably fell in love and her poor, unfortunate partner suffered under her stubborn, unshakable sense of justice.  

devon, on the other hand, was thrilled. she’d always liked rafe the most, but devon liked everyone that could make her laugh. and since she found almost everything funny, her enthusiasm wasn’t exactly a surprise. “this was all adriana and cora’s fault,” she declared confidently. “it only seems complicated because of misunderstandings.”  

honestly, she wasn’t completely wrong.  

ivy was the last to react, but only because she needed everything explained twice. she kept getting lost in the names and timelines, but once she caught up, she leaned back, thoughtful. “i get where hazel’s coming from,” she admitted. “but… i’ve never seen someone look at another person the way rafe looks at you.” she shook her head, like even she couldn’t believe it. “he’s in love with you. and i think you guys deserve a real chance.”  

your chest tightened, an ache so sweet it almost hurt.  

hazel made valid points. you couldn’t deny that things could have been handled better, that rafe had a past, that there were risks.  

but love had to count for something.  

the way he touched you like you were something delicate and precious, the way he kissed you like he’d been starving for you, the way he looked at you—like you were the most important thing in the world.  

you had to see this through. you deserved to try.

by the time the conversation was winding down, your phone buzzed with a message from rafe—here—and before you could even process it, the doorbell rang. the timing made you smile, a giddy, unshakable thing that only grew as you imagined him just downstairs, waiting for you. waiting to kiss you the moment you reached him, to pull you close in the car, to sit beside you, hands brushing, the warmth of him something you could sink into.  

there weren’t enough words to describe what it felt like to be in love with rafe. he was lightning in your veins, a thrill in your pulse, the kind of presence that made your skin hum and your heart stumble over itself. every bit of him exhilarated you—the way he looked at you, the way he laughed, the way just existing near him felt like standing at the edge of something breathtaking.  

“alrighttt,” ivy teased from the tiny rectangle on your laptop screen, dragging out the word with a knowing smirk. “go get your man before you implode.” she waved a hand, shooing you off.  

“i’ll text every hour, okay?” you added, mostly directing it toward hazel, who nodded, lips quirking.  

“have fun!” devon grinned, throwing up a thumbs-up.  

“fun with protection,” hazel added flatly, and your jaw dropped, eyes going wide.  

“hazel!” you gasped, half-laughing, half-scandalized.  

she only shrugged, entirely unbothered, and waved you off as you ended the call.  

you shut your laptop, the nerves settling in properly now, fluttery and insistent. you rushed down the two flights of stairs, your heart thumping louder with each step, and before you even reached the bottom, you could already hear his voice, deep and familiar, threading through the hallway.  

“no, the season’s over,” rafe was saying, his tone easy, patient.  

your mom hummed, and then—ohhh, drawn out like a realization had just dawned on her. “so, it’s like the seasons of the year? like winter, fall—”  

you nearly winced before you heard rafe chuckle, cutting in quickly, “no, no, no.” he sounded amused, not condescending, his usual charm at play. “it’s one season. the season runs from mid-august to mid-november. that’s when we play in the big arenas. the rest of the year is off-season training, then pre-season prep, and sometimes, we have non-official games against other teams.”  

“mm,” your mom nodded, absorbing the information. as you stepped up behind her, she turned, startled for a second before her face softened. “oh! i was just talking to rafe about his soccer schedule—it’s quite intensive, actually.” her expression shifted to that motherly concern she always wore when she thought you were stretching yourself too thin.  

you bit back a grin, already knowing what was coming.  

“it’s like what i tell y/n, you know?” she said, turning back to rafe, who raised his brows, clearly entertained. “always with her head buried in those books. i keep telling her, anything with ‘too much’ or ‘too little’ in front of it is bad. too much studying, and her little head might break.” she sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “i worry—”  

“okay, mhm, i know, mom. i know,” you interjected, nodding quickly as you looped an arm through hers, gently steering her toward the living room before she could launch into another full speech.  

rafe, for his part, was valiantly holding back a laugh, his lips twitching as he watched you usher your mom away. you shot him a look, but the fondness in his eyes made your stomach flip.

“your mom complaining because you study too much? that’s unheard of.” rafe teases the moment you step back into the foyer, an embarrassed smile tugging at your lips.

“my mom is unheard of,” you correct, but the words barely register as you take him in. he looked good. he always did, but tonight—tonight he looked unfairly good. black cargos, a deep green sweater snug against his frame, the edge of a white shirt peeking out beneath it. his hair, effortlessly tousled in that way that made him look like he had just rolled out of bed—but you knew better. he did that on purpose.

before you can say anything else, he hooks a finger into the hem of your shirt, tugging you forward. you don’t resist, smiling as the space between you vanishes.

“hi,” you murmur, tilting your chin up as his hand cups your face, thumb brushing featherlight over your cheek.

“hey,” he breathes back, leaning in—so close you can almost taste the mint on his breath. but just as his lips are about to touch yours, he stills.

his voice drops to a whisper. “your sister is staring at us.”

your eyes snap open in horror. mortified. and annoyed.

sure enough, when you turn your head, there she is, standing in the hallway like a tiny executioner, arms crossed, smirk sharp.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you mock, throwing her own words from this morning back at her.

without a beat of hesitation, she pulls out the little flip phone your dad gave her.

“oh my god! don’t actually take the picture!” you gasp, exasperated. behind you, rafe’s quiet chuckle vibrates through your back.

she doesn’t even acknowledge you, just huffs, arms crossing tighter. “dad!” she calls out, voice ringing through the house. “y/n won’t let me take a picture of her and rafe kissing!” she storms off.

you squeeze your eyes shut, dying inside, but rafe only laughs again. the sound is warm, reassuring—just like the way his arms slip around your waist, pulling you against his chest.

“you look pretty,” he murmurs, lips brushing over your shoulder, lingering. “and you smell good.” his mouth trails higher, ghosting over your neck, his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

your fingers tighten in his sweater as you exhale, tilting your head just enough to capture his lips in a soft, fleeting kiss. “thank you.” your voice is quieter now, just for him.

you pull back slightly, hands drifting to his shoulders as you study him again. “hmm…” your grin curves slow, playful. “you look nice, but i still can’t tell where we’re going from this outfit.”

he smirks, leaning down for another kiss, this one deeper, slower. when he pulls back, his voice is lower. “that’s kind of the point with surprises.”

you laugh softly as he grabs the duffel bag from your hands.

“we should get going.”

you nod, stepping away. “yeah, i just need to say bye to my parents. i’ll be right out.” you’re already turning when he murmurs his agreement, stepping out the front door.

inside, you find your parents in the living room. your mom is braiding your sister’s hair, her fingers moving with practiced ease.

“hey, i’m heading out. i’ll see you guys tomorrow after school?”

your mom glances up, eyes sweeping over you like she’s checking for something. “you don’t have a thicker sweater? it’s quite cold.”

“it isn’t that cold, she’ll be alright,” your dad interjects, offering you a thumbs-up. “just text us when you get to hazel’s, alright?”

you nod quickly, then turn back to your mom. “i’ll take my good coat, and worst case, i’ll ask rafe for a sweater.” you offer her a reassuring smile.

she studies you for a beat longer, then softens, giving you a warm nod. “okay. have fun.”

you turn on your heel, snatching your coat from the wall hook in one fluid motion before stepping outside. the crisp air rushes to greet you, cool against your flushed cheeks, curling around your skin like a whisper of excitement. the door clicks shut behind you, sealing away the warmth of inside, but you don’t mind—not when rafe is here, waiting.

he leans against his car, fingers idly playing with his keys, the metal glinting under the dim glow of the streetlights. he’s distracted, his head tilted down, but the second you step out, he pauses. his eyes find yours instantly, scanning your face, his lips parting just slightly. “all good?” his voice is gentle, edged with something soft, something careful.

you nod, unable to contain the giddy energy bubbling inside you. your feet carry you to him quickly, almost skipping, like a child running toward something they’ve been waiting all day for. “all good, good, good.” you beam up at him, stretching onto your toes to press a quick, eager kiss to his lips.

his chuckle is quiet, warm, but his arms instinctively settle around your waist, keeping you close. “you’re happy,” he observes, amusement laced in his voice.

your grin widens as you nod. “i’ve got every reason to be.” the words are as much for him as they are a reminder to yourself.

his nose brushes against yours, the smallest touch, but it sends a shiver down your spine. “i love seeing you smile,” he whispers, like it’s a secret meant only for you.

and because it’s him, because it’s always him, you smile even more. “i love you.”

his forehead rests against yours, his eyes locking onto yours like they hold the whole world inside them. “i love you too, baby.”

the drive to your destination is both too slow and far too fast, stretching time and collapsing it all at once. you want to savor every second, but you also ache to get there, wherever there is.

every car ride with rafe is something special. even the short ones, when he’d drop you off at the retirement home, where you’d linger in his car long after he had already parked, just talking, stretching the moment, neither of you wanting to leave, not ready to say goodbye. but the long ones? those were the best. time felt slower then, like the world outside the car didn’t matter, like all that existed was the steady hum of the engine, the soft music threading through the speakers, and the effortless conversation between you.

talking with rafe was easy. being with him was easy. you were always full of things to say, stories to tell, and he was always ready to listen, to laugh, to add his own thoughts like your words were puzzle pieces he was eager to fit together. the soft melody playing in the background only made it all feel more domestic, more right, like something you could do forever.

“remember when we were at the beach, and you said you should have more fun?” he asks suddenly, breaking the quiet hum of conversation.

you nod, thinking back to that day, the way you had sighed and confessed it like it was a secret. “yeah. this is something fun?”

he grins, nodding. “it is.”

your mind spins with possibilities. “is it…” you pause dramatically, narrowing your eyes at him, “roller skating?”

his laugh is easy, shaking his head. “you already guessed that one.” he tilts his head toward the windshield. “we’re almost there, though.”

your gaze follows his, and in the distance, bright lights glow against the night sky, unmistakable and familiar. your heart stutters.

“the fair!” you nearly scream, your excitement bubbling over into your voice. you turn to him, wide-eyed. “oh my god, i haven’t been back in years. i never—”

“find the time?” he finishes smoothly, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

you nod, eyes shining. “thank you, thank you!” the words spill out as you grab his face, pressing frantic kisses all over his cheeks, his nose, anywhere you can reach. he just laughs, letting you, his hands resting on your waist.

“this is gonna be so fun.” you bounce slightly in your seat, your gaze snapping back to the road, watching as the fair grows closer, the colors sharpening, the lights glittering. anticipation buzzes under your skin. “i hope you’re ready to spend the next fifteen hours here, because i am not leaving until we’ve played every game. oh! we have to go on the ferris wheel.” you turn back to him, eyes pleading. “and we have to do the duck fishing game! a lot of people find it kinda boring, but i always loved it as a kid. you get fun prizes!" you ramble, the memories flooding back, making you smile at the thought of it all.

"anddd!" you continue, as rafe parks the car and unbuckles your seatbelt for you, "we can do the can knockdown and the basketball shootout! though i’m not very good at that..." you tilt your head, biting your lip.

"basketball shootout? that’s my game," rafe says, his tone teasing yet reassuring. "don’t worry, i'll show you how to score." a grin spreads across your face, and you can’t help but lean in, kissing him again, your lips lingering against his, sharing a moment of warmth.

when you step out of the car, rafe briefly checks his parking, but you're too eager to wait. you tug gently at his hand, your excitement bubbling over. "okayyy! let’s go!" you urge, practically bouncing on your toes.

"okay, someone’s excited," rafe murmurs with a smile, pulling you close, his arm sliding around your shoulder as you both start walking toward the fair, the lights ahead like a dream come to life.

the fair was alive with energy, a constant hum of voices blending with the sounds of laughter and music. the air was thick with the scent of cotton candy and popcorn, and you could feel the vibrant pulse of excitement as people swarmed the grounds. scattered among the crowd were a few familiar faces from school, most of them nodding or waving at rafe from a distance, though there were one or two who actually stopped to chat with him for a moment.

you dove into the carnival games, clearly more excited than anything else. your enthusiasm was contagious as you breezed through everything, from the ring toss and pick-a-duck to the basketball shootout, can knockdown, and the bb gun shooting booth. you even tried your hand at the hammer strength test and the wheel of fortune. each game offered a prize, and by the time you were done, you had racked up so many stuffed animals that rafe had to make a quick trip to his car to stash a couple in the backseat. you kept only the one he won for you, clutching it close as if it were a prized possession.

"i’ve got a perfect name for him," you grinned when rafe returned, slipping his hand into yours. you hugged the bear tight to your chest.

"yeah?" he asked, a curious glint in his eyes.

"rafe jr!" you exclaimed, your face lighting up with mischief.

rafe paused, turning to look at you with a playful smile. "he’s your son. isn’t he adorable?" you ask him.

"i think he’s our son," rafe said, his tone teasing but warm.

you hummed thoughtfully, "yeah, from nine a.m. to ten p.m., he can be our son. but at night, he’s all yours. i need my eight hours of sleep," you joked, and rafe gave you a mock disapproving look.

"unbelievable," he muttered, feigning indignation as he took the bear from you. "give me my son. you don’t even deserve him," he laughed, shaking his head as you giggled.

"let’s do the mirror palace," rafe said suddenly, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the next attraction.

"oh, no," you groaned, a playful whine creeping into your voice. "i suck at mazes. do you know how many bruises i've gotten because of this place?" you complained as he led you into the line. he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you close.

"you were probably between six and ten years old the last time you were here," he teased, his lips brushing your shoulder. "but don't worry, we’ll stick together. i’ll make sure we get out without any bruises."

you couldn’t help but smile at his reassurance, finding comfort in his presence. "okay," you agreed, your voice soft. "can we do the ferris wheel too?" you whispered, hopeful.

he gave you a tender smile and nodded. "we’ll do the ferris wheel, baby," he whispered back, his voice low and soothing as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. you smiled faintly, feeling the warmth of his affection, and he kissed you again, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled away.

the line for the maze isn’t long, and rafe makes the wait feel like nothing at all. "hey, two tickets, please," he says, voice low but casual as he pulls his wallet out, handing over a stack of bills. the cashier, with a soft smile, takes them, passing back two tickets with practiced ease. "here you go," she says, her tone polite but robotic, "no running and no backtracking. have fun." the words sound like a rehearsed mantra, something she'd said to every other person before.

"no backtracking?" you ask, your voice tinged with nerves as rafe laces his fingers through yours, pulling you toward the entrance. "what if we get lost? what if we—"

"baby, we won't get lost," he laughs, that deep, confident sound that always manages to settle your racing thoughts. he pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist. he presses a soft kiss to the side of your head, the warmth of his lips grounding you. "this is a game for little kids. we’ll make it, no problem." you can’t help but smile, knowing he’s probably right. you nod, taking another step forward into the maze, the twisted corridors pulling you further in.

the maze is oddly quiet, aside from the occasional echo of laughter or giggling in the distance. the floors beneath your feet are dotted with glowing lights that form shifting patterns, while above, the ceiling is impossibly high—so high that you can't quite make out its end, thanks to the mirrored surface reflecting everything around you. it all feels like a strange dream, the kind where you’re falling endlessly but never quite hit the ground.

"god, this is so weird," you mutter, as rafe gently tugs you back just in time to avoid you running into yet another mirror. "i swear, we’ve been down this hallway already." you stop in your tracks, scanning your surroundings. rafe continues walking, but his hand, still clutching yours, halts him after a few steps.

"we haven’t been down this hallway yet," he says, looking over his shoulder at you. "i’d know." his tone is teasing, but you can’t help but raise an eyebrow.

"all the hallways look the same," you protest, "how would you know?"

"i’m a pro at this," he grins, tugging you closer. "you just don’t believe me." his hands settle on your waist, his fingers brushing the fabric of your shirt. "or trust me," he murmurs, lips barely grazing your ear as he pulls you even closer.

"i’m too young to die, and i can’t die in a maze, rafe," you whine softly, your voice barely audible. he chuckles, the sound warm against your skin.

"don’t be whiny," he teases, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before you can even respond. your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, pulling him closer.

"i’m not whiny…" you protest, though the words are muffled as his breath fans across your lips. your eyes flutter closed, and you exhale softly, the warmth of his presence overwhelming in the best way.

"really?" rafe’s voice is low and teasing as his lips brush against yours, barely making contact. "because you sound pretty whiny to me." his hands slide up your back, sending a chill through your spine as his lips trace the curve of your jaw. he pulls you flush against him, his body pressing into yours with a teasing urgency.

"rafe…" you sigh, words getting caught in your throat. you want to beg him to kiss you, to press you up against one of these endless mirrors and kiss you until you're breathless, but somehow, the words won’t come. instead, you lean into him, your lips chasing his in desperate need.

"yeah, pretty girl?" rafe’s voice is rough, husky, and it makes your knees feel weak. your heart races in your chest as you try to form a coherent thought, but all you can focus on is him. his presence. the heat between you. your lips are barely a breath away, and you lean in, chasing him as your fingers tangle in his hair.

he pulls away just enough for you to feel the loss, his lips brushing against your skin. "tell me," he insists, his voice barely a whisper, but it carries an urgency that makes your breath catch. he kisses everywhere but your lips, trailing soft, teasing touches along your jaw and neck. his nose skims your skin, the sensation making your body shiver.

"want you to kiss me…" you manage to murmur, almost begging, your hands tightening in his hair. rafe hums, the sound vibrating through your chest.

"wasn't too hard now, was it?" he whispers, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing mockery of what you’ve been yearning for. and before you can respond, his lips crash against yours. it’s frantic, hungry, as if he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as you. you’re pushed up against the mirror, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat of his body.

his hands find their way to your waist, pressing you harder against him as his tongue slips into your mouth, coaxing a soft gasp from you. the kiss deepens, and it’s no longer just a kiss—it’s consuming, overwhelming, a blur of heat and touch. the world fades away, and all you can think about is rafe. his lips. his hands. him.

the kiss drags on, relentless, until you’re both left gasping for air. rafe pulls back slightly, brushing his lips against yours with a soft smile. "don’t think that’s ever gonna get old," he murmurs, his voice low and satisfied. he takes your hand, tugging you along deeper into the maze.

eventually, though, he does get you both out. you’d almost lost hope twice, ready to scream for help, but somehow, you made it out together.

with his hand nestled in yours, fingers laced together like a quiet promise, you wandered through the fair, the golden glow of string lights casting soft halos over the crowd. laughter and the distant chime of game bells filled the air as you played a few more rounds, the scent of caramel and fried dough clinging to the night. finally, you reached the ferris wheel, its towering silhouette outlined against the deep blue sky.  

"line's a little long," rafe noted, eyes flicking toward the slow-moving queue stretching toward the ticket booth. he exhaled, rolling his shoulders back. "i'm gonna head to the food stand and grab us something small while we wait. that okay?"  

you nodded quickly. "okay."  

he leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against your lips before you could say anything else. you caught his sleeve as he pulled away, adding, "can you also get me some water?"  

"mm, be right back," he murmured, squeezing your fingers before slipping into the crowd.  

left alone, you took the moment to respond to a few messages, the ferris wheel’s bright lights reflecting in your screen. the line inched forward, and just as you pocketed your phone, rafe reappeared, pressing a warm pretzel wrapped in a napkin into your hands.  

"here," he said, and you quickly took a bite, the buttery salt melting on your tongue.  

"you didn't get anything?" you asked, noticing he only held your bottle of water and a can of coke.  

"not hungry enough for anything right now," he shrugged, tucking his arm around your shoulder as the line moved forward again. without a second thought, you held up your pretzel to his lips.  

he grinned and took a bite, murmuring a muffled, "thanks," as he chewed. you smiled and leaned up, pressing a kiss to his cheek.  

at the register, rafe pulled out his wallet, handing over cash for two tickets. standing closer to the wheel now, he tilted his head up, studying it. "jesus," he muttered under his breath. "when you're this close, it’s really high..."  

you grinned, nudging him. "got a little fear of heights you forgot to mention?"  

he rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. "no fear of heights," he countered, feigning nonchalance. "just didn’t think it’d be this tall."  

when the attendant swung open the little cabin door, rafe let you step in first before sliding in beside you. the seat was softer than expected, and as the wheel began its slow ascent, he draped an arm around you, settling comfortably.  

"you can see the whole island from the top," you mused, eyes sparkling as you glanced at him.  

rafe smirked. "yeah?"  

"mm-hmm," you hummed, then added mischievously, "and don’t worry—it goes reallll slow."  

he huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "i’m not scared of heights," he insisted.  

"uh huh." you shrugged, taking another bite of your pretzel.  

the cabin continued its gentle climb, and a small window near the side caught your attention. curiosity got the best of you, and before rafe could react, you popped your head out for a better view. the wind brushed against your face, cool and sweet, but before you could even take it all in, rafe's hand was gripping your waist, tugging you back in with a firm urgency.  

"okay, that's enough," he muttered, brows drawn together, his jaw tight.  

you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up as he shot you a glare that wasn’t nearly as serious as he wanted it to be.  

if he wasn’t so tense, you might’ve asked to go again. but seeing the way his shoulders stiffened, the way his grip on you lingered even after the moment had passed, you decided against it. you’d spare him—for now.

ooh! a photobooth!" you yell out, excitement bubbling over as you grab rafe’s hand and pull him toward the big red box in the distance. the glossy surface gleams under the carnival lights, and you practically bounce on your feet as you take in the example pictures displayed on the side. “look at this! i think it’s new…” your fingers trail over the smooth panel, eyes scanning the details. before you can even turn to ask rafe if he wants to take some, he’s already ducking inside, reaching back to tug you onto his lap with effortless ease.  

“let’s see…” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin as he scrolls through the options on the screen. you pull the small curtain shut, enclosing the two of you in the intimate space, the air thick with anticipation. “black and white or color?” rafe asks, his chin resting on your shoulder, voice low and unhurried. you tilt your head in thought before deciding, “uhh… black and white.” the choice feels right, timeless. you fish out a couple of coins from your pocket, sliding them into the slot with a soft clink. 

“okay, ready?” rafe asks, his blue eyes flickering with amusement as he watches you. you nod, grinning. but then a thought crosses your mind, and you blurt out, “wait, how many does it take?”  

“four, i think,” rafe replies just as the first flash goes off. instinctively, you stick your tongue out, only realizing after that your hair is a mess. laughter spills from your lips as you quickly try to smooth it down, but rafe is faster—his fingers weave through the strands, gently fixing it as the countdown begins again.  

“oh, god, the countdown is so fast!” you squeal, both of you scrambling to pose, but it’s useless—you end up just laughing at each other, faces flushed with amusement.  

“that one is cute. look at your smile,” rafe grins, tilting his head to study the preview. your cheeks warm at his words, a touch of shyness creeping in. rafe notices, his own smile softening before he leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek just as the third picture snaps.  

the final countdown begins, and rafe’s fingers—gentle yet firm—grasp your chin, turning your face toward him. “last one,” he murmurs, a teasing glint in his eyes. you don’t hesitate. instead, you wrap an arm around his neck, pulling him in, lips meeting his in a kiss just as the last flash goes off.  

when you pull away, rafe chases your lips for a second, stealing another soft kiss before finally letting you slide off his lap. you push the curtain open, stepping out into the cool night air, the distant hum of carnival rides and laughter filling the space around you.  

seconds later, the photo strip slides out from the machine. you grab it eagerly, holding it up. “they came out so cute! look!” you beam, showing rafe as he steps beside you.  

his gaze flickers over the strip, a small smile tugging at his lips. “they did. the black and white looks good,” he agrees, his fingers effortlessly intertwining with yours as you both start walking again, your eyes still fixed on the little captured moments.  

they were perfect.

"i had so much fun, thank you for bringing me here," you say, glancing at rafe as the two of you walk through the parking lot, the cool night air settling over your skin. the distant hum of traffic, the flickering neon signs, the soft scuff of your shoes against the pavement—it all feels like a dream you don’t want to wake up from.  

"i’m happy you liked it," rafe replies, his voice carrying a certain secrecy that immediately piques your curiosity. "but the date’s not over yet."  

you blink at him, lips curling into a smile. "it’s not?"  

he shakes his head, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. "nope. one more surprise. now get in." he nudges you playfully, holding the passenger door open like the perfect gentleman he pretends not to be.  

your heart flutters as you slide inside, excitement buzzing through you despite the dull ache creeping into your feet. the night is stretching on, dark and velvety, but instead of feeling tired, you feel alive, giddy with the thought that the evening isn’t over yet.  

"can i try to guess this one?" you ask the moment you buckle in, eyes gleaming with anticipation.  

rafe chuckles, shaking his head as he starts the car. "you know, it wouldn’t kill you to let it be a surprise. ever heard of ‘curiosity killed the cat’?"  

"and what brought it back?" you counter smoothly, neatly tucking the photobooth pictures into your bag. "the truth."  

he scoffs, tapping his fingers against the wheel. "even if i gave you hints, you’d still be terrible at guessing."  

your mouth drops open in exaggerated offense. "no! your hints just suck!"  

"oh, my hints suck?" he laughs, shooting you a knowing look. "i literally said you might walk away with some prizes, and you thought i was taking you to a casino."  

you roll your eyes but can’t fight the smile stretching across your face. "it was a solid guess! a casino is a place where you can win things!"  

"try thinking about why i asked you to bring warm pajamas."  

you pause, tilting your head as you study him. he’s taking you somewhere cold, that much is obvious—but where? and why?  

the rest of the ride is spent grilling rafe, who remains infuriatingly tight-lipped, dodging every one of your guesses with a smug grin. the city lights blur past in streaks of gold and red, and eventually, the car rolls to a stop near the docks.  

you step out, scanning your surroundings. the air is thick with the scent of salt and freshly grilled seafood, the restaurants nearby buzzing with laughter and clinking glasses. but none of this explains why he told you to bring warm pajamas.  

he takes your hand and leads you past the restaurants, past the shops, past everything—until you’re stepping through a smaller, tucked-away entrance that spills out onto the docks, where at least fifty boats are lined up in neat rows.  

"are we getting on a boat?" you ask, glancing at him in surprise.  

he still doesn’t answer. just pulls you along, his grip firm but gentle.  

"rafe, i—"  

the words catch in your throat.  

because suddenly, you see it.  

a boat, different from all the others, its edges wrapped in warm golden lights that twinkle against the dark water. flower petals are scattered along the deck like something out of a dream. a table is set for two, draped in crisp white linen, with two gleaming cloches covering the plates beneath. and above it all, the sky is painted in breathtaking shades of pink and lavender, the last remnants of the sunset bleeding into the horizon.  

you don’t move. you don’t breathe.  

rafe steps onto the boat first, setting the bags down before turning back to you, his expression softer now, almost nervous. he holds out a hand. "c’mon."  

your fingers tremble as they slip into his.  

"rafe," you whisper, voice barely above the lapping of the waves, already feeling the sting of tears gathering behind your eyes.

rafe reaches behind you, fingers brushing against the back of the chair as he grabs something—then, turning back to you, he reveals a bouquet of flowers.  

"before you say anything, i just need to do this," he murmurs, voice quieter now, as he hands them to you.  

your hands tighten around the bouquet instinctively, but you barely register the softness of the petals, too caught up in the way his eyes flicker, how his throat bobs as he swallows.  

"there's a note inside," he continues, rubbing the back of his neck as if he's trying to steady himself. "i wasn’t sure if i’d be able to say what i needed to say, so i wrote it down. but now that you’re standing right in front of me..." he hesitates, glancing down at the bouquet, then back at you. "i think i want to read it to you."  

your breath catches.  

he reaches into the bouquet, pulling out a small, neatly folded note, his fingers careful as he smooths it open. the sun is dipping lower, casting everything in gold and amber, and for a moment, you just watch him. the glow of the fading light makes his features impossibly soft, the strands of his tousled hair illuminated like something out of a dream.  

his eyes scan the paper, then flicker up to you. he exhales sharply.  

"god," he mutters under his breath, shaking his head slightly.  

your brows pull together. "you don’t have to—"  

"no, no," he interrupts quickly, waving a hand. "it’s not that. it’s just... you—" he exhales again, almost frustrated with himself. "you look really good right now. i can’t think straight."  

your heart stumbles over itself.  

heat spreads across your cheeks, and you bite back a grin, stepping closer to him. "you’re awful."  

"i’m awful?" he scoffs, tilting his head at you, a smile curling at the edges of his lips. "you’re the one over there, completely wrecking my concentration."  

his voice is soft, teasing, and the way he’s looking at you—like there’s no one else in the world—makes your chest ache. without thinking, you rise onto your toes, pressing your lips to his in a gentle kiss.  

he kisses you back, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment. but as soon as your hand comes up to rest on his shoulder, he pulls away with a pointed look.  

"see?" he murmurs, shaking his head in mock exasperation.  

you throw your head back in laughter. "okay, okay! i’m sorry! you have my undivided, uninterrupting attention."  

his lips twitch into a smirk before he clears his throat, bringing his attention back to the note in his hands.  

his voice is steady as he begins to read.  

"last semester, our science teacher told us that romantic love activates the same brain regions as drug addiction—especially the dopamine reward system."  

he glances up at you briefly, the corner of his mouth lifting like he already knows how silly he sounds. but he keeps going.  

"at the time, i didn’t think much of it. honestly, i probably forgot about it five minutes later. but a week after our first tutoring session, that random fact came rushing back. because by then, i wasn’t just falling for you—i was being consumed by you. every little thing you did, every quirk, every expression. the way your eyes lit up when you talked about something so intricate i could barely follow. the way you smiled. the way you blinked, even."  

he pauses, his jaw clenching for a second before he continues.  

"i couldn’t understand why i couldn’t stop thinking about you—why you had settled so deeply into my mind, in my bones, under my skin. and then, suddenly, i did. that fact from last semester snapped back into place."  

his voice is quieter now, more careful, like every word is something he needs you to hear.  

"you’re the first thought in my mind when i wake up and the last thing i think of before i fall asleep. you are my favorite part of every day."  

you feel your breath hitch, your hands tightening around the bouquet.  

"i will always feel sorry for anyone who never gets the chance to know you the way i do—to be wrapped in your kindness, to hear your laughter over and over, to know what your lips feel like, to be loved by you."  

his gaze flickers up to yours, a quiet intensity in his eyes.  

"you are extraordinary, and i know you’re going to go places neither of us can even dream of."  

he hesitates, his fingers gripping the edges of the paper slightly, like the words are heavier now.  

"if you’ll let me, i’d be honored to stand by your side for as long as you’ll have me."  

a beat of silence.  

"will you be my girlfriend?"  

you don’t realize you’re crying until you’re frantically wiping at your face, nodding—nodding so hard it almost makes you dizzy.  

"yeah?" rafe breathes, a laugh slipping from his lips as he pulls you in.  

"yes!" you cry, grinning through the tears. "are you serious?"  

his hands cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears as he shakes his head with a soft smile. "you can’t cry on our first date," he whispers, resting his forehead against yours.  

"you can’t make me cry on our first date," you sniffle, voice barely above a whisper.  

"touché," he murmurs.  

and then his lips find yours.  

the kiss is slow, unhurried—like he has all the time in the world. like he wants to take his time. his fingers slide into your hair, holding you close, and when you press against him, you don’t know if you want to smile or cry all over again.  

but you do know one thing.  

there is nowhere else you’d rather be.

rafe pulls away, his lips barely ghosting over yours as he exhales, his nose brushing against your skin like he’s memorizing the feel of you. “let’s sit, yeah?” his voice is low, gentle, and you nod, but not before pressing the softest kiss against his lips. he smiles against your mouth, then steps back, pulling out your chair with an effortless sort of grace. you settle into the seat, placing your flowers carefully beside you, the delicate petals brushing against your arm.  

your arms tighten around yourself as you take in the scene before you—an intimate table set under the open sky, flickering candlelight casting golden hues across the linen, the sound of the waves lapping gently against the boat. it’s beautiful, breathtaking, and it knocks the air right out of your lungs. your throat tightens as tears well up, your voice trembling despite your best effort to steady it. “how did you plan this all in one day?”  

rafe’s brows knit together like the question itself is absurd, and he reaches across the table, his hand warm as it closes over yours. “one day?” he echoes, shaking his head, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin. “baby, i’ve been planning this for two weeks. three if you count the seven days straight i begged my dad for the boat.” he says it so matter-of-factly, like it was the most natural thing in the world to spend weeks making something perfect just for you.  

your breath stutters as you swipe at your damp cheeks with the back of your hand, overwhelmed. “t-this is…” the words get caught in your throat, and rafe watches you, his face soft with affection but laced with the slightest bit of concern.  

“baby.” he moves before you can blink, dropping to his knees beside your chair, his hands resting on your thighs as he looks up at you, all blue eyes and steady presence. “if i knew this would make you cry this much, i would’ve just taken you to mcdonald’s.” his lips twitch into a teasing grin, and the laugh that bubbles out of you is watery but real. you lean forward until your forehead touches his, exhaling shakily.  

“no, n-no, it’s perfect… i j-just…” you try to gather yourself, grounding yourself in the way his hands hold you like you’re something precious, something he never wants to let go of. you breathe deeply, eyes flickering between his. “i think i’ve been telling myself for so long that i didn’t want this—the romance, the grand gestures, all of it. convinced myself i didn’t need it, because it’s easier to not be disappointed by something when you’ve made yourself believe you never even wanted it in the first place. but now…” you swallow hard, your fingers curling against the fabric of his shirt. “this whole date, this entire day… it’s been incredible. and i can’t believe i let myself miss out on you for almost two decades.”  

rafe’s gaze flickers with something unreadable, something deep. he cups your face, tilting it ever so slightly. “i’m here now,” he murmurs, the words like a vow. “and i’m not going anywhere for at least another couple of decades.”  

he pulls you into his arms before you can respond, guiding you against his chest, his chin resting atop your head. his fingers thread into your hair, grounding, soothing. “i’m sorry i’m such a mess,” you mumble into the warmth of his skin.  

“you’re my mess,” he murmurs, lips pressing softly against your temple.

it takes five tissues and a few deep breaths before you’re composed enough to properly sit down and eat. you lift the cloche, and immediately, the rich steam curls into the cool evening air. the scent hits you next—warm, savory, mouthwatering, like something fresh out of a five-star kitchen. your eyes sweep over the dish, taking in the careful presentation, the attention to detail. “this looks delicious…” your voice is tinged with awe as you glance up at him, suspicious. “who made this?” a part of you half-expects a chef to step out from behind the mast.  

rafe leans back in his chair, smirking. “i did.”  

you arch a brow. “no, you didn’t. you were with me all day.”  

his grin deepens as he watches your skepticism unfold. “where do you think i went after i left your house this morning?”  

you narrow your eyes, still not convinced. and he just laughs, shaking his head like he can’t believe you’d doubt him.

"i should probably explain how i planned all of this," he says, voice smooth, almost sheepish, like he's letting you in on some grand secret. you nod, twirling your fork into the soft, buttery pasta on your plate, waiting for him to continue.

"this boat is my family's, but really, it's my dad's. no one touches it without his permission, and he’s very… very particular about it." rafe exhales a small laugh, shaking his head as if recalling some past scolding. "but i wanted to do dinner here. thought it’d be more fun, more private. so i asked him—begged him, really—promised i wouldn't break anything, or at least, i'd try not to." his lips curve into a smirk before he leans in slightly, his voice dropping as if this is the part that matters most. "and finally, when i told him i really wanted to impress you… he said yes." he watches your face, gauging your reaction. "i think he likes you, which is a first."

your heart lightens, the weight of uncertainty easing just a little. his father likes you? you hadn’t been sure.

"really? he seemed a little…" you hesitate, searching for the right word.

"frigid?" rafe supplies, already nodding like he knew that’s what you were going to say. "yeah, he’s cold. has a hard time showing affection, all that shit. but he’s a good dad. we have our ups and downs, but he loves us, wants the best for us—most of the time." there's something almost distant in the way he says it, like he's repeating a fact rather than feeling it, but you don't press.

he exhales, shaking off the moment. "anyway, the plan was always dinner. but then, after i picked you up from the elderly home two weeks ago, we went to the beach, and you said you wanted to start having more fun." he glances at you, eyes twinkling under the warm glow of the string lights. "so i started thinking—what’s fun? i mean, dinner’s great, dinner and a movie is great, especially with you, but i wanted something more. i thought about a roller rink, ice skating, maybe an aquarium or the zoo. but the fair just felt… right. versatile, fun, a little chaotic."

you smile, warmth settling in your chest. all of those options would have been perfect, because they'd be with him.

"initially, everything that happened yesterday wouldn’t have happened," rafe admits, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his features. you nod, a little sad at the reminder.

"the plan was simple. you’d stay over at mine, we’d be lazy, stay in bed till noon. my parents and wheeze were coming back at two, so i figured i’d leave you with her for a couple hours. topper’s dad owns the yacht club right by the dock, so topper set it up so we could use their kitchen. i was gonna cook, come back, pick you up, take you to the fair, and text topper when we were close so he could go back, heat up the food, plate it here, and leave." rafe shakes his head, smiling at how much effort it had taken. "same plan, really, except we were at your house instead of mine. i cooked, picked you up, took you to the fair, texted topper fifteen minutes ago, he came, reheated everything, plated it, and left."

you stare at him, stunned. "jesus… that’s…" you start, grinning as you shake your head in disbelief.

rafe laughs, running a hand through his hair before picking up his fork. "yeah. and i hope you like it, because this is literally the only meal i can make."

you chew, smiling against your bite. "you know, you could’ve saved yourself a lot of time if you just ordered the food."

he shrugs, like the thought had never even crossed his mind. "i wanted to cook for you."

your heart stutters, just a little. "well, it’s really good," you admit, nudging his foot lightly under the table. "even if it’s the only meal you can make."

he grins. "better than nothing."

it took nearly two hours to finish eating, though neither of you minded. conversation flowed so easily, conversation leading to laughter, to teasing, to the occasional soft gaze that lingered just a little too long. the food sat half-forgotten between you, growing cold while you got lost in each other. the whole evening made you forget—truly forget—every dark cloud that had loomed over you in the past months. none of it mattered here. none of it existed. all that was real was this moment, the warmth of rafe's presence, the way he looked at you like nothing else in the world held his attention.  

after the last bite, rafe took the wheel, guiding the boat a little further out into the open water. not too far—just enough so the shore looked like something out of a dream, the golden glow of restaurant lights stretching across the waves, bars and shops humming with distant life. you curled up together on the bow, your head rising and falling with his steady breath, his arms wrapped securely around you. the throw blanket, already there like it had been waiting for this moment, draped over both of you. when you tilt your head up, you find his eyes already on you, like he had been watching you all along.  

"thank you for this," you whisper, voice barely louder than the gentle slosh of water against the boat. "this has been the most fun night." your eyes glisten in the soft light, emotions swelling in a way that makes your heart ache in the best way.  

"you don’t need to thank me," he murmurs, brushing his lips over yours, a fleeting, teasing touch. "i did it with pleasure. you’re my favorite person to be around, baby."  

your smile is small, but it holds so much, and you find his lips again, kissing him once, then again, and again, unable to stop yourself. "still gonna thank you," you breathe, nuzzling into him. "i would've been happy with just a mcdonald’s date, but you went the extra… extra mile. you didn’t have to do that."  

rafe scoffs, his face twisting in a way that tells you he hates the mere thought. "you’re too good for a mcdonald’s date," he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. his lips trail down your jaw, slow and deliberate. "you’ve gotta know your worth…" the words are a murmur against your skin, his mouth lingering along your jawline, up to your ear. his teeth catch your earlobe gently, the softest bite, and your fingers dig into his bicep instinctively.  

"please…" the word leaves you in a breath, but the way it sounds—soft, needy—makes rafe tense for a beat.  

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. you’re so close your noses brush, sharing the same air. he’s asking you something without speaking, his gaze searching yours. you nod, slow and certain, and then his lips are on yours, the kiss stealing the breath from your lungs as he eases you down onto the soft cushions beneath you.  

the kiss is dizzying, has your mind floating, thoughts scattering like grains of sand in the wind. rafe kisses you like he’s been starving for it, like tasting you is the only thing that makes sense. his hands are impossibly warm, feverish against your skin, and soon he’s caging you beneath him, pressing closer, deeper. his lips leave yours only to travel down your neck, and your breath stutters, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.  

"rafe…" his name is barely a whisper, a plea, as your hands tug at the fabric of his shirt. you need him closer.  

he doesn’t make you wait. his shirt is off in a second, discarded somewhere in the dark, and his hands skim the hem of your top, fingers toying with the fabric before he pauses. his gaze finds yours again, softer this time. "you’re sure?" he asks, voice quiet, careful.  

you nod, your hands sliding into his hair as you pull him in, kissing him slowly, deeply. "i’m sure," you murmur against his lips.  

he pulls your top over your head, tosses it aside like nothing else matters but this. his mouth is on your skin immediately, mapping you out with slow, careful devotion, like he has all the time in the world. he kisses down your neck, lingers there, like he wants to memorize the way you shudder beneath him. his lips trail lower, between your breasts, his tongue and teeth leaving red marks behind—deep, burning reminders that you’ll feel long after the night is over.

"god, you're so fucking beautiful," rafe groans as he unhooks your bra with a precision that should be concerning—but the thought barely forms before his mouth is on you, his lips wrapping around your nipple, and suddenly, you can’t think at all.

your breath catches in your throat, a soft, shuddering gasp spilling from your lips as heat shoots straight through you. your fingers tangle in his hair, instinct taking over as you pull him closer, urging him on. "oh… oh—" the sound escapes you in a breathless whimper, pleasure twisting sharp and sweet through your body. your free hand fists the throw blanket beside you, lips parting as your head tips back into the pillow. the sensation is overwhelming, toeing the line between pleasure and something almost too intense, too much—but you don’t want him to stop.

rafe switches between your nipples, sucking and teasing until they’re left swollen, aching, but before you can even process the sensation, he’s moving lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach. the warmth of his breath sends a shiver through you, but your mind stays hazy, pliant, following wherever he leads.  

two firm taps against your thigh. "up," he murmurs, and without thinking, you obey, lifting your hips like it’s second nature. he strips you bare in one swift motion, your skirt and underwear slipping down and away before you can so much as blink. the cool air kisses your exposed skin, but the heat of rafe’s mouth follows a moment later, his lips dragging slow, purposeful kisses from your lower stomach downward, inching closer, closer—  

your breath catches. he pauses. his gaze flickers up to meet yours, something dark and unreadable swimming in his eyes. "tell me you want it."  

at first, the words sound like nothing more than a demand, thick with lust. but when you really look at him—when you see the way he holds himself there, waiting—you realize he’s asking for more than just permission. he’s asking for certainty.  

"i want it," you whisper, the plea slipping out without hesitation, breathy and soft. "please…"  

something shifts in his expression, something unreadable yet electric, and then he’s gone—no, not gone—he’s there, right there, between your legs, his mouth stealing the very breath from your lungs.

the moment rafe’s tongue drags through your folds, pleasure slams into you so hard your mind blanks. your hands fly to your mouth, muffling the moan that tries to rip free, but it does nothing to quiet the way your body trembles beneath him. his grip tightens on your thigh, firm and unyielding, holding you in place as his tongue plunges deeper, tasting you, savoring you like a starving man.

everything else fades—thoughts, time, reality—until the only thing left is sensation. his mouth. his tongue. the slow, torturous way he builds you up, pushing you higher, higher, until you’re on the verge of tears.

"rafe… rafee…!" his name tumbles from your lips in a soft, breathless cry, your hips rolling helplessly against his mouth, desperate for more, for anything, for everything. your back arches, fingers tangling in his hair, clutching tight like you don’t know whether to pull him closer or push him away.  

he doesn’t stop. not as your body trembles, not as pleasure coils tighter, hotter, unbearable. not as tears burn the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it. he keeps going, tongue lapping and lacking along your sweet cunt, dragging you to the very edge of bliss until you’re trembling, right there, ready to break—  

and then he pulls away.  

"no… no, no��" the whimper leaves you before you can stop it, pure desperation twisting in your chest as your hands fumble down between your thighs, chasing the release he so cruelly denied. but before you can touch yourself, rafe tsks, catching your wrists with ease.  

"uh-uh," he murmurs, his voice thick with something dark and dangerous. still gripping your wrists, he rises to his knees, unbuckling his pants with deliberate slowness. the hunger in his eyes makes your breath stutter.

his bulge alone leaves little to the imagination, but when he finally pushes his pants down, your lips part slightly, breath hitching as you take him in.

you'd seen him before—felt him before, had his cock in your mouth, remembered how he'd stuffed your mouth, memorized the way he stretched your throat—but somehow, the reality of it fitting inside you hadn’t fully processed until now.  

your pulse quickens. there’s no way. no way in hell—  

but rafe is already leaning down, tilting your chin so your gaze locks with his and only his. his eyes are molten in the dim light, steady and unshakable as he brushes his lips over yours, a whisper of warmth. "trust me, yeah?" his voice is low, rough, but so, so gentle. "just gotta trust me… i’ll make you feel good, i promise." it's hard not to believe him.

your stomach flips, nerves twisting with something softer, something deeper. slowly, you nod, and rafe rewards you with a lingering kiss—soft, patient, meant to soothe.

as his lips trail down your jaw, your arms instinctively loop around his neck, pulling him closer. he keeps you distracted, kissing you deeply, pulling you under his spell as his hands guide your thighs apart.  

your breath stutters when you feel him there—thick and hot, his tip gliding through your slick folds, teasing, testing. your body tenses. "r-rafe…" you stammer, voice unsteady, eyes flying open to meet his.  

he’s already watching you.  

"you’re okay," he murmurs, pressing a reassuring kiss against your lips, his thumb stroking your hip. "you’re alright."  

then he’s pushing in, forcing your cunt to expand and take all of him and your eyes fill with tears.

your walls stretches around him, foreign and overwhelming, a gasp breaking free as you clutch at his hair, fingers curling tight. the stretch is slow, unrelenting, inch by inch as he sinks deeper, forcing you to take him, molding you to fit him.  

"breathe," he urges, his voice firm but soothing, and only then do you realize you’ve been holding your breath. you exhale shakily, thighs trembling around his hips.  

"fuck," rafe rasps, his forehead nearly touching yours, breath warm against your lips as he sinks into you, slow but deep, stretching you, filling you completely. the moment he starts to move, sliding in and out of your slick, trembling heat, a shudder wracks through you, pleasure blooming so intensely it steals the breath from your lungs.  

your nails dig into his shoulders, your body clinging to his instinctively, overwhelmed by the sheer depth of sensation. "oh god—rafe, god—" his name spills from your lips in a broken sob, tears burning at the corners of your eyes, not from pain, not from anything but the unbearable bliss of having him like this, of being his.  

you wrap your leg around his waist, and his body answers before his mind does, his hips rolling forward, pushing deeper, pressing impossibly close. a guttural groan rips from his throat, his hands gripping your hips like he never wants to let go. "fuck, baby," he groans, voice thick and ragged, "you feel so fucking good…"  

he thrusts into you again, and again, and again, each movement more intense than the last, like he’s trying to carve himself into you, like he wants to ruin you for anyone else, as if you weren’t already his.

rafe’s fingers dig into your hips, gripping so tight you think you’ll wear his bruises for days, a mark of this moment, of him. his thrusts are relentless, slamming into you, pushing you higher, higher, until the pleasure is so consuming it’s nearly unbearable. the ocean roars around you, but it’s nothing compared to the symphony of moans and breathless cries spilling from your lips, to the desperate slap of skin against skin as he takes you apart piece by piece.  

he looks wrecked—utterly, beautifully ruined—his jaw clenched, eyes dark and hazy, drowning in lust, in you. "fucking christ," he grits out, voice wrecked, nearly a growl, his head tipping back as your walls flutter around him, gripping him like you never want to let him go.  

you can’t think, can’t form a single coherent thought beyond the white-hot pleasure slamming into your every nerve. he fucks you senseless, over and over, hitting that devastating spot inside you again and again until you’re sobbing, whimpering, utterly wrecked beneath him.  

"rafe… m’gonna— i can’t— n-need—" you babble, voice breaking, tears slipping down your cheeks as the pleasure coils tighter, unbearable, uncontrollable.  

"hold it," he pants, forehead brushing against yours, his own restraint fraying, his body trembling with the effort. you want to obey, want to listen, but you can’t—god, you can’t. "please… please!" your voice is nearly unrecognizable, high and desperate, trembling as he shifts, lifting your thigh higher, forcing himself even deeper.  

"just a little longer, babygirl," he rasps, mouth trailing over your parted lips, kissing you like he’s savoring your surrender. but you can’t kiss him back—you can’t do anything but take it, take him, take every last ounce of pleasure he gives you.  

"i c-can’t… can’t—!" your body is wrecked, overstimulated, pushed past the point of reason as he pounds into your already trembling, sore cunt.  

"that’s it," he groans, voice tight, desperate. "so fucking good, baby… doing so good for me." his rhythm falters, thrusts growing sloppy, more frantic, his control unraveling as he chases his own high.  

"cum, baby."  

his words crash over you like a tidal wave, and before you can even process it, you’re breaking—shattering—pleasure detonating through you so violently your vision goes white. your entire body trembles, clenches, your mind floating into oblivion as you come harder than you ever have, tears slipping from your lashes, lips parting in a silent scream.  

your heart is racing, hammering so wildly you think it might just burst right out of your chest.

rafe eases out of you carefully, and you wince at the overwhelming sensitivity, your body thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure. his hands are on you instantly, soothing, tracing gentle circles along your waist as he watches you with quiet concern. "you good?" he murmurs, voice low, intimate, like it’s just the two of you in the whole world.  

even as exhaustion settles deep in your bones, as every muscle in your body hums with the ache of what you’ve just done, you nod. "that was…" you trail off, searching for the right words.

rafe’s lips twitch, but he stays quiet, waiting, his blue eyes filled with something unreadable. then, playfully, he tilts his head. "good..? bad..? overwhelming..? underwhelming..?" he teases, voice soft, coaxing, and that boyish grin—the one that always gets you—spreads across his face. even like this, damp skin glowing under the moonlight, hair a wild mess, he looks devastatingly beautiful.  

you smile, stretching out the anticipation before answering. "really, really, really…" you pause just to see him raise a brow at you. "good. like, seriously, mind-numbingly good."  

rafe chuckles, the sound warm and low, and he leans in to press the gentlest kiss to your lips. "yeah," he whispers against your mouth. "you did give me that impression."  

you laugh, giving his chest a weak shove, and he just grins, sinking down beside you with a deep, satisfied sigh. his arm curls around your waist, and instinctively, you tuck yourself against him, head resting over his heart, listening to its steady, soothing beat.  

a few beats of silence pass before he breaks it, voice amused. "you know there’s a bedroom down there, right?"  

your head snaps up, eyes narrowing. "rafe. are you serious?" disbelief laces your voice as you gesture to the makeshift bed and the throw blanket tangled around your legs. "we had sex here when there was a perfectly comfortable bed waiting right below us?"  

he’s already laughing, pulling the blanket higher over your shoulders as he tugs you even closer. "but now you can say you’ve had sex under the stars," he offers with a smirk, like it’s the best selling point in the world.  

you roll your eyes, but your lips betray you, curling into a smile as you settle against him again. "yeah, that’s really something i’m gonna go brag about," you say dryly, and rafe chuckles, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.  

your heart swells, impossibly full, and when you lift your head, his lips graze yours, the touch so light it’s barely there. then, in the quiet, in the peace of the night, he whispers, "i love you…"  

you kiss his nose, his cheek, then his lips, slow and tender. "i love you too."

a.n —  they finally did it. YAY. i hope this was up to everyone's standards. more coming soon. leave a comment cause i rlly love to chit chat with y'all!

chapter index — next. chap

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[moody-alcoholic]

MIA

Price x Ghost but Ghost is kidnapped on a botched mission…

Who am I kidding it’s basically a poly141 again because I have no self control.

CW: Kidnapping, violence, use of weapons, description of injuries, torture, possessiveness, death.

---

Price would do this for anyone on 141. Sacrifice his entire military career for any of them.

Kyle.

Johnny.

Simon.

They’re his fuckin’ family, his reason to wake up in the morning. His reason to keep fighting the good fight. Right now he feels like he’s failed them all, most of all Simon.

He remembers Shepard's brief; a new terrorist organisation sweeping through Europe. Put a stop to them before they can attack again.

They had a location, they had solid intel, they had a name. It was almost routine, painfully so, infiltrate, capture or kill.

Textbook.

It was a shock to them all when the tunnel blew, when Ghost got left behind.

Price couldn’t tell what was worse, Johnny’s screams or the thought of leaving Ghost behind. Not Ghost, Simon. His family, his partner.

He let him down, left him behind to be captured by the enemy. He had to make that choice as a Captain, for the well being of his team.

The shouting at Soap and Gaz to run felt like a fever dream, he needed to get them out the tunnel before the rest of the charges went off.

He left Simon behind. MIA.

That’s what they classified it as. When they were going through the debrief. Shepherd stood there with Laswell by his side refusing-point blank-to let them go back for him.

“We do not have the resources for a full blow rescue mission captain.” Shepard snapped over the table.

“Are you going to stop me?” Price asked snapping back at him. He felt Kyle’s hand land on his shoulder, Johnny’s raw tear stained eyes digging into him.

“You have orders to follow Captain. Anything else will be classed as treason.”

“General.” Laswell called trying to calm him down.

John didn’t care, he had already made his mind up. They were getting Simon back, no matter what it takes.

He tried to stop them. Told Johnny and Kyle to their faces that if they followed him they would be ending their careers too. He was more then happy to do this alone, he was ready to do this alone.

“This is not your responsibility.” John said watching their expressions, they looked between each other before turning back to him.

“We do this together.” Kyle said.

“No one fights alone.” Johnny said.

It was easy to grab gear and a car. Almost too easy. No one stopped them, no one questioned them. If they did it wouldn’t have mattered, they would have to catch them first.

“I can’t believe Shepard wanted to leave him.” Soap says a few minutes into the journey.

“We never leave anyone behind.” Gaz snaps looking over at Price from the driver seat. John smiles at him then goes back to looking out the window.

“Sure this is where he’ll be?” Soap asks from the back seat.

“If Laswell’s intel is good it’s the best shot we have.” Price said.

The rain was hammering down by the time they made it to to the building. The whole place was an abandoned office block or something. Price didn’t care, Simon was in there that’s what mattered, that’s all that mattered.

The car comes to a stop the engine is turned off. Price jumps out, he picks his weapon up, feeling the cold metal on hands. He looks up at the dark building, he can feel his heart thump in his chest as he steady's his breathing trying to ground himself.

He feels a hand on his shoulder. “We’ve got your back Captain.” He swallows the nerves.

“Lets move.” He orders.

…

Its dark. Dark and cold.

That’s all he feels, cold air making him shiver. They stripped him of his clothes first. Hands wrapping round his throat, skin meeting skin. Punches to the stomach and face.

He tried to fight but the explosion was close, it hit him hard knocking him off his feet. He barely had time to orient himself before people attacked him.

He heard John last. He heard the order to fall back.

He heard the order to leave him.

That was the last thing he heard before he woke in a new place.

It’s dark, he's strapped to a chair in a room with open windows. He can hear the wind, the rain.

It’s cold, the chill causing goosebumps to rise on his half naked body.

They took everything but his boxers and jeans. They’ve already tried to get info from him, the flashes of pain across his chest. Never deep enough to kill him, just enough to hurt him.

He’s stronger then they think, stronger then they’re prepared for.

John left him behind but he will never betray them.

Not his family, the people he loves. The people he spent the last few years letting himself get close to.

John.

Johnny.

Kyle.

His family. His partners.

No doubt his captors be back soon for another round. Another attempt to get him to talk. This could go on for days, weeks. He has to assume the worst, that no one is coming for him.

He has to keep it together, he can’t let them break him. He’s stronger then this, he's been through worse. He’ll keep it together till the bitter end.

He chuckles, he can hear shots. His mind is already playing tricks on him. For a second he lets himself believe its rescue, he lets himself have a moment of weakness. A pained groan leaves his throat as he tries to pick his head up. His eyes are swollen from the beating he’s taken. His chest caked in a thick layer of dried blood and sweat.

There’s a bang, so loud his head snaps to the side, a faint light floods into the room. His ears are ringing as he hears orders being shouted.

The voice sounds so familiar, his heartbeat picks up as someone comes over to him. Hands find his face for a second pulling his head straight.

“We’re here, you’re okay.”

“John?” He asks, his voice catching in his throat. A mask is pulled over his face, it feels familiar, warm, safe. He feels the restraints round his hands vanish.

“It’s okay, we’re here Simon.” It is John talking to him. He feels Johns forehead pressed against his. “We got you, you’re safe, we’re here now.”

Hands grip his shoulders.

“Get him out of here.” John says standing up. Simon almost wants to reach out for him.

“Where are you going?” That’s Johnny. His voice is usually so relaxed, he sounds serious, his words harsh cutting through the air.

“Get him out of here!” John snaps.

“‘Cause sir,” another set of arms hooks under his armpits. He looks over at John pressing another mag into his weapon. His arms are pulled over shoulders as he’s dragged over to the other side of the room.

“John.” He tries to call but it comes out so quiet.

“Stay with us Lt.” Johnny says, pulling him against him so Gaz can call the lift. He’s dragged inside, Gaz coming to look at him, his hands running over his chest.

“We’re getting you out of here. You’re going to be okay.”

He lets out a breath closing his eyes as the door to the lift closes.

…

John is on a warpath. It’s been years since he’s been this angry, this focused. His he squeezes the barrel of his weapon firing off shots at anyone he sees. The image of Simon, blooded and bruised tied in a chair, so exposed, so vulnerable. It made him feel sick.

There are only enemies in this building, a building that needs to be rid of the despicable people who hurt Simon. His lieutenant, they have no idea what they’re messing with.

How dare they.

He lets the smell of blood and gunpowder fill his nose with every room he clears. He expected more, more resistance, more people to take his anger out on.

Christian, that was the name they were given. He was running the whole operation, that’s his target. The person who would have ordered terror attacks, planted the bombs in the tunnel, ordered Simon’s torture.

How dare he.

John makes it to the next floor he spies someone with his back to the door. He takes his knife off his hip sneaking up to the man and pressing the knife to his throat, wrapping his arm round his body holding him in place.

“Where’s Christian?” He growls in his ear.

“N-next floor.” The man sobs. John slits his throat letting his body fall to the floor. He doesn’t bother cleaning the knife putting it back in the holster. He continues clearing the floor. One body, two, three, four…

The walk up to the next floor feels surreal. He changes the mag in his weapon clicking it in place before walking into what used to be an open plan office. The place is surprisingly empty, still he can’t help checking every cubical, every corner. He makes it across to the only other room in the building. There is light coming through the bottom of the door.

He takes in a deep breath moving his finger to the trigger and kicks the door open.

The man behind the desk stands up, his arms raised in the air. He reaches for his weapon, Price fires off the shot hitting him in the shoulder causing him to collapse to the ground. He walks round the desk watching him writhe on the floor.

Price kicks him, his hand tries to grab Price’s foot. Price pulls it away then slams his foot down on his wounded shoulder.

“Christian?” Price asks.

“Fuck you!” The man shouts back. Price lets out a breath and shoots in him in the head. His body goes limp, he removes his foot and turns back to the office door.

It’s done.

Now all that matters is Simon. All that matters is Simon.

---

[the-dendrophile-bookdragon]

The Lioness

Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem!reader

Warning: 1940-1950, slight misogyny, Tom is the perfect husband, fluff, swearing

Summary: To be a woman after the Second World War...

Tom was home early for once. The body shop had been slow today—no new cars or engines to repair.

He was just pulling his work clothes from the washing machine to hang up when he heard the front door open and slam shut.

He raised an eyebrow but shrugged. Bad day at work, maybe, he thought.

But then he heard her angrily toss her keys into the crystal bowl by the door, followed by the loud crash of glass.

“Shit!” she shouted.

Tom sprang into action. Laundry could wait—his wife needed him.

He bolted down from the bathroom and stopped in the foyer, taking in the sight of shattered glass strewn across the floor.

“Don’t move, darlin’. I’ll get the broom.”

He turned and walked into the kitchen to grab the broom, dustpan, and garbage bin before heading back to the entrance.

One look at his wife told him this was more than just a bad day. It was shit. The unshed tears in her eyes were proof enough.

“I got your favorite flowers on my way home,” he mumbled as he carefully swept up the shards. “Nearly nicked my thumb cuttin’ the stems. You gotta show me again how to do it right.”

A small chuckle escaped her lips, making his own lift slightly.

“You shouldn’t have,” she whispered.

“Yes, I do,” he said. “I love you, and I wanted to show you. Also bought everything for dinner. I waited for you. Ya know, ‘cause I keep burnin’ the kitchen down without your supervision.”

More giggles escaped her lips.

He finished cleaning, then grinned as he tossed the awful crystal bowl into the bin.

“You hatin’ it that much?”

She rolled her eyes. “It was from me mom. You know how she gets when we don’t put her stuff up.” He knew all too well. One ugly dust catcher less in their house.

Tom grinned down at her. He set the broom and dustpan aside before stepping closer. His strong, left arm wrapped gently around her waist, and he pressed his nose to her forehead, pulling her into his chest.

“What happened?” he asked simply, holding her closer. Letting her know she was safe and she could cry her heart out to him.

He felt her body tremble. At first, he thought she was cold, but then he felt her fists balled up against his chest—warm, tense. She was furious.

“They’re letting me go,” she whispered, her voice hollow.

Tom stiffened at her words. Letting her go? She was the hardest-working person in that damn office.

“Why, darlin’?”

She let out an angry huff—cute, but now wasn’t the time to think about that. He needed to listen.

“Because I’m married,” she gritted out.

Tom frowned, more confused than ever. “I don’t see the problem. I’m married, and no one bats an eye. What’s so different between the two of us?”

He loosened his hold just enough to look down at her. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and his chest ached at the sight.

“You aren’t expected to care for our future children,” she whispered, gaze dropping to the floor.

Tom took a deep breath, his mind racing. The whole situation made no damn sense.

“But I will be their father,” he mumbled. Then, suddenly, it clicked.

“Bastards,” he scoffed, looking down at her. He gently hooked a finger underneath her chin and lifted her face to look at him. “They want you gone so you stay home and be a good little housewife?”

She nodded.

Tom’s jaw clenched. He knew plenty of women chose to stay home and care for the house and kids. But then there were women like his wife—like his sister Lois—who wanted to work, to contribute, to build something of their own. And now, they were just forcing her out?

Over his dead body. “Not gonna happen while there’s air in my lungs. I’ll go to your office myself and fight for your job.”

But she shook her head. “Don’t. Maybe it’s an opportunity,” she whispered.

He raised a brow. ���Oh?”

She nodded. “I was already looking for another job and found one. The head of the office is a woman. And honestly? I hate that job anyway,” she murmured, cuddling closer to him.

He chuckled softly, holding her closer to his chest and wrapping his other arm around her shoulder. He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head.

“You’re too precious for this world, sweetheart,” he mumbled against her hair, breathing in the sweet scent of her soap.

The tranquillity of the moment was interrupted by the low growl of her stomach.

“The lion woke up,” he whispered teasingly, kissing her forehead before looking down at her.

She grinned. “It’s not sleeping tonight.”

He laughed softly, knowing she’d caught onto his little jab.

“Come on, my darling. Let’s feed it before it wakes the goddamn jungle,” he murmured, pulling her along to the kitchen—ready to once again learn to cook from his brilliant wife.

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