#and the converses add more white to the lower body so its not just all black

[austonishing1]

Making a post on Gwen’s design in Across the Spider-Verse because I’m surprised a lot of people didn’t notice the changes to it and its absolutely my favorite look Spider-Gwen has had, and I’m a person that overanalyzes Spider-Man costumes.

So here’s her original look, referring to Marvel Ultimate Alliance 3 images because its a pretty straight forward adaptation from the comic design. Mainly gonna note the webbing pattern on her inner arm that has a dark purple base and goes up to her shoulders with a small section on the sides of the chest, and flat blue soles. The white space also creates a Spider design that you can see on the back.

Then the first Spider-Verse film they modified it a bit. Made the base color of the webbing pattern a bright pink instead of a dark purple, got rid of the extra webbing on the torso, extended the black further up the suit, and added the popular ballet shoes. Kept all the major elements of the suit but made it less complicated and more unique.

In Across she starts with the above look, but when she shows up later its modified further. The webbing pattern on her arms is completely substituted with these arm warmer gloves. The chest design is changed further with the black reaching farther up and into an angle, with the back design more simplified. As pointed out in the movie, also switched to Chuck Taylors.

[maldaptivedreamer]

A NEW SIDE

You discover a new side to Tyler.

content: Errors and mistakes, not entirely accurate to alien universe, maybe ooc, guns (idk anything about them), military (idk anything about it), and fighting (only ever fought my brother)

wc: ~2.6

a/n: This may be the only thing I write for Tyler. With that being said, there are theories about Tyler having been in the military or Weyand-Yutani security. That theory inspired me to write this story so… petitioning for more fics about Tyler in military or something.

The room is stark and sterile, lacking any trace of warmth or life. The blinding white walls seem to amplify the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights, creating an almost unbearable brightness. The lack of color or character only adds to the feeling of emptiness and isolation.

Outside, the dreary browns and dark oranges of Jackson’s star and its’ crumbling buildings are a stark contrast to this clinical environment. The air here is heavy with the scent of cleaning chemicals, masking any natural scents that might have existed before. It's suffocating, as if all living organisms have been wiped clean from this space.

The weight of the gun in your hands is a constant reminder of your purpose here. The cold metal seems to bite into your skin, grounding you in this sterile reality.

Despite the assistance of modern technology, there's a certain satisfaction in manually aiming at a target. You anchor the gun to your shoulder, feeling the weight and balance of it as you line up your sights with the distant bullseye. With steady focus, you release a few rounds, feeling the satisfying kickback of the powerful weapon.

The recoil of the gun jolts through your body, causing it to dig into your shoulder. As you release a breath and lower the gun, you hear the gruff voice of the old general calling out for everyone to return their firearms and check them in. After that, he instructs everyone to meet in Room A-5 for sparring with their assigned partners.

Letting out a sigh, you glance to your side and spot your partner, Tyler.

He fits the cliché description of tall, dark, and handsome perfectly. Standing at least six feet tall, his broad shoulders and lean muscles are evident even beneath the layers of Weyland-Yutani uniform.

Your eyes linger on Tyler for a moment, taking in his imposing figure as he stands a few lanes from you. His gaze is focused and alert, scanning the area with practiced precision.

As if sensing your attention, Tyler's eyes flick to meet yours. He nods slightly, acknowledging your presence before returning his gaze to scan the others as they move to check in their firearms.

Rolling your shoulder to ease the ache from the recoil, you follow the others and can sense Tyler falling into step behind you.

His deep accented voice breaks through the sound of shuffling feet and hushed conversations, "You're a good shot."

You scoff lightly and raise an eyebrow at him in amusement, “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself. But I s’pose that doesn’t mean much when aiming is automatic.”

Tyler chuckles softly at your response.

A comfortable silence falls between you as you both continue progressing in line.

As the silence stretches on, Tyler finally breaks it with a playful tone. "Looking at each of their targets, seems like they paired together the best of the class."

The comment catches you off guard. Tyler is not known for being talkative, to you at least, instead preferring to stay professional and quiet. Any attempts at humor or conversation from you are usually met with a few polite chuckles.

Biting your lip, you steal a glance at him and quietly reply, "Ah yes, because we are the best of the best. The rest of ‘em don’t stand a chance."

Tyler's lips quirk up in a rare smile at your response. "Modest."

You shrug, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Just stating facts. Though I suppose we'll see who's really the best once we get to sparring."

"Is that a challenge?" Tyler asks, his voice low and teasing.

You quickly shoot back, "Only if you're up for it."

He chuckles, the sound deep and rich. "Oh, I'm always up for a challenge."

As you reach the front of the line, you hand over your firearm to be checked in. Tyler does the same, his movements efficient and practiced. Tyler's fingers brush against yours for a brief moment, sending a jolt of electricity through your arm. You quickly pull your hand away, hoping he didn't notice your reaction.

The two of you make your way towards Room A-5, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.

Carefully unzipping your bulky coat, you remove it and your shoes before stepping onto the mat. Tyler does the same, his movements smooth and practiced.

Both of you settle into fighting stances, playfully swiping at each other as you warm up on the mat. A sense of friendly competition fills the air between you.

Circling each other with fluid movements, Tyler lets out a playful click of his tongue before speaking with teasing undertones, “Y’know, heard someone say the general’s got a hard-on for you."

You can't help but scoff in amusement, firing back with a smile, "Really? Well, I've always been a sucker for mean old men. Guess that explains why he feels the need to torture me so often… What about you? Anyone caught your eye?"

A grin creeps into his voice as he answers, "I don't know, I've had my eye on that sandwich in the lunchroom."

Your stomach rumbles at the mention of food, and you can't help but let out a quiet groan. Absentmindedly shuffling your feet, you comment, "I am starving. Maybe I'll have to actually fight you for that sandwich."

Tyler chuckles in a low voice. "I'd like to see you try."

Rolling your eyes with a smirk, you speak, "Don't underestimate me. I'm scrappy when I'm hungry."

"Is that so?" There's a hint of challenge in his voice now. "Maybe we should test that. Or I could be persuaded to share."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by this playful side of Tyler you've never seen. "Oh? And what exactly would that persuasion entail?"

Your eyes lock with Tyler's, a charged moment of tension hanging between you. His gaze is intense, a mix of challenge and something else you can't quite place. He’s about to respond when the general's gruff voice cuts through the air.

"Alright, lovebirds. Less talking, more sparring."

You feel heat rise to your cheeks at the general's words, but quickly push the embarrassment aside. Refocusing on Tyler, you see a flicker of amusement in his eyes. Grinning, he raises his eyebrows and silently mouths the word jealous.

Releasing a giggle, you watch as his expression turns serious.

Without warning, Tyler lunges forward, aiming a swift jab at your stomach. You dodge just in time, pivoting on your heel to avoid the blow. Your training kicks in as you counter with a quick strike of your own, which Tyler easily deflects.

The two of you fall into a fierce rhythm, trading powerful hits back and forth. The sound of fists connecting with flesh echoes off the bare walls, creating a cacophony of grunts and thuds.

Drawing back with raised arms, you gasp for air as sweat rolls down your face. Tyler takes this opportunity to catch his own breath, but he recovers much quicker than you do. He advances towards you, his movements fluid and calculated.

In one swift motion, he lunges at you and twists your body around. With your back pressed against his chest, he wraps an arm tightly around your neck while attempting to wrap the other around your head. You struggle against him, trying to break free from his hold.

You throw your head back, stunning him, and swing your legs up. Using every ounce of strength in your body, you plant them firmly into the ground and shove him over your shoulder. His body slams into the ground with a loud thud that reverberates through the room.

Everyone turns to watch as Tyler groans on the ground, clearly winded from the impact. You wince at the sight, feeling slightly guilty for using such force. With a hint of amusement in your voice, you apologize to Tyler, "Sorry, didn't mean to hit you that hard."

Your intense training session comes to a brief pause as Tyler struggles. He forces himself to sit up, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. You extend a hand to help him up, and he gratefully accepts it. You both groan with effort as he gets to his feet.

As he wipes a finger across his lip, you notice a few drops of blood staining his skin. His face contorts in pain, and you speak in a hushed voice, “You okay?”

Tyler nods, grimacing as he licks his split lip. His voice is strained as he responds with a small groan, “Remind me to never get in the way of your food.”

You release a light laugh before taking your positions on opposite sides of the mat once again. With renewed energy, you resume sparring with each other.

The spar continues without any more incidents until the general calls for a break and dismisses everyone.

As you make your way to the cafeteria, you sneak a few glances at Tyler, silently admiring him. His muscular frame radiates heat, and a thin sheen of sweat glistens on his tanned skin.

The cafeteria is just as uninviting as the rest of the facility. The stark white walls and fluorescent lights mimicking the rest of the sterile facility. The smell of strong disinfectant lingers in the air, mixing with the low hum of chatter from other trainees. You grab your trays and fall into line behind Tyler, feeling the warmth of his body next to yours as you shuffle forward.

"So," Tyler says, his voice pitched low so only you can hear, "about that sandwich..."

You pause briefly to meet his gaze, noticing how his brown eyes seem to dance with mischief. Smirking, you reply in an equally hushed tone. "If you think that those puppy eyes of yours are gonna work, you’re wrong."

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes his lips. You can't help but shiver as he clicks his tongue and speaks in a sarcastic tone. "Damn. Figured you could throw me a bone after kicking my ass."

As you approach the front of the line, your eyes catch sight of the last sandwich sitting on the counter.

With a groan, you roll your head back and curse under your breath. From the corner of your eye, you can see Tyler's brown eyes twinkling with amusement.

Silently, you grab the sandwich and wait for him to join you, balancing the tray in your hands.

Tyler motions towards an empty table tucked away in the corner, a playful smile tugging at his lips. You nod and follow him through the bustling crowd.

As you take your seats, you lean in close to him with a playful scowl adorning your face. Raising one finger for emphasis, you speak sternly. "Once. I'm only going to do this once. So don't expect any more favors from me. I don't like sharing… Being an only child, I never had to."

Squinting playfully at him as he grins back at you, you add, “Also… I stand by what I said. Those puppy eyes of yours… useless.”

Tyler's eyes light up with amusement as you slide half the sandwich across the table to him. "I'll take it," he says, his voice warm with gratitude.

As he takes a bite, his lips curve into a small smile. "And for the record," he continues, "I wasn't trying to use puppy eyes. That's just my face."

You snort, taking a bite of your half. "Sure, it is. I bet that face gets you out of a lot of trouble."

He shrugs casually, but there's a hint of playfulness in his gesture. "Maybe. But it clearly doesn't work on you." His tone is very obviously sarcastic.

Taking another mouthful, you give him a small glare. You roll your eyes, but can't help the smile tugging at your lips. "Don't let it go to your head. This is a one-time deal, remember?"

"Of course," he nods solemnly, but there's a glint in his eye that suggests he doesn't believe you for a second. "I'll treasure this moment forever."

You snort, taking a bite of your half. The sandwich isn't anything special - standard cafeteria fare - but after the intense sparring session, it tastes like heaven. You both eat in companionable silence for a few moments, the buzz of conversation from the other tables washing over you.

He breaks the silence after swallowing a mouthful. "Only child, huh? That explains a lot," he teases.

Humming past a mouthful, you ignore his teasing and curiously ask, “What about you? You give off the vibe of protective brother. In a healthy and very not weird, incesty, misogynistic way… If that makes sense.”

Letting out a confused and shocked laugh, he runs a hand through his hair and nods. His voice is soft, “Yeah, got ‘a kid sister. Her name’s Kay.”

As he talks about her, you can see the fondness and love in his expression. A small grin forms on his face at the thought of her. Tilting your head, you speak past a cheekful of food, “What’s she like? What’s having a sister like?”

Tyler's eyes soften as he thinks about his sister. "Kay's... she's something else. She’s kind. Smarter than me, stubborn as hell. Accidently finding trouble, and somehow fumbling her way out of it." He chuckles, shaking his head fondly. "Having a sister is... it's complicated. One minute you're fighting, the next you're schemin' together. We always watch out for each other, whether we’re fightin' or not."

You nod as he finishes. Part of you can't help but feel envious of the bond they share. It's clear that having a sister has been a source of joy and strength for him. "Sounds nice," you muse. "Though I can't imagine sharing my stuff all the time."

"Oh, sharing isn't optional," Tyler laughs. "It's more like... strategic borrowing without permission."

You raise an eyebrow. "You mean stealing?"

"I prefer liberating," he grins.

Giggling, you lightly tap his foot under the table with your own, “I’m so fucking glad I didn’t have to deal with that. That sounds annoying.”

He shrugs and takes a final bite of his sandwich, finishing it off quickly. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he rubs his hands together. Without saying a word, he points silently to it, and you realize you don’t have much time left. Time isn’t exactly something that Weyland-Yutani is generous with.

Standing up quickly, you shove the rest of your sandwich into your mouth in a rush. Ignoring his surprised and slightly amused expression, you brush crumbs off of your clothes.

As you both stand to leave, Tyler's eyes linger on you for a moment. There's a softness in his gaze that wasn't there before, a warmth that makes your heart skip a beat.

"Thanks for the sandwich," he says, his voice low. "And for not completely destroying me during sparring."

You grin, playfully bumping his shoulder with yours. "Don't get used to it. Next time, kiddie gloves are off."

He chuckles, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. "I look forward to it."

As you walk back to the training area, a sense of unease settles in your stomach. There's a subtle shift between you and Tyler - the usual professional distance has dissolved into something more personal. The easy banter and shared meal have created a new dynamic, one that both excites and unnerves you.

Despite the physically demanding drills and exercises, your mind feels light and carefree. The glances and looks exchanged between you and Tyler throughout the day make your heart race with anticipation.

When you lay down in your bed, exhaustion finally catching up to you, your mind buzzes with thoughts of him. The fluttering sensation in your gut is a mix of nervousness and excitement.

[dragonedged-if]

I Apologize

So I got a heads up from a friend of mine that my Chapter 1 has a lot of errors. So I want to apologize because my computer crashed when I was uploading my game so when I reboot my computer the file got corrupted and so I had to start from scratch so before I continue on Chapter 2 I will fix Chap 1 first.

Also, of all the dialogues that can't go wrong it has to be my most favorite for Variel so I'm just gonna post the scene here for your convenience my Readers :).

Here's the part when night arrive and the convoy is setting up camp.

"No," she responds gravely before letting out a sinister chuckle. "Murder isn't something to be laughed about… Nighttime is the favorite hour for assassins and bandits to attack." You take a deep breath of relief only for it to suddenly stop as her stomach grumbles.

"Crap!" you think to yourself as your heart leaps into your throat. "Well, looks like I need to go hunting," Variel states casually while stretching her body and cracking her bones. As she twists her neck around, she adds, "Oh one more thing little mouse, can you be a dear and put my dress on my back." Before you can even begin to process what she meant, she disappears in front of you.

"Behind you little mouse," comes her disembodied voice from behind your back. You spin around yet there's still no trace of Variel anywhere until you hear her demand again: "Look down." You lower your gaze and see a large wolf staring at you with its red crimson eyes. Your heart pounds against your chest as fear takes hold.

"Please don't eat me!" you plead.

"Haha, Oh little mouse, I will not eat you." Variel chuckles. "You will not eat me?" you ask unsure. "I will not little mouse."Variel grins at you, her razor shapr canines showing. "Not yet at least." she continues and snaps her mouth at you.

You insticly take a step back away from her. "Now little mouse can you put this dress behind my back." Variel walks closer and carrying the white dress she wears earlier in her mouth.

With her mouth still open, she drops the white dress into your hands. You quickly tie it around her back, hesitating as you come close to her maw.

"So you're a wolf?" you ask tentatively, trying to make conversation.

"Yes I'm a wolf," Variel growls and licks her paw for emphasis.

Before you can take another breath she is suddenly right in front of you, looming like an ancient beast ready to strike. "Can I pet you?" you blurt out, almost certain that such a request would bring death upon yourself.

She looks down at you with a deadly glare and growls lowly, "Why?" You stammer out an explanation about how this is the first time you've seen someone shift from dragon to human to wolf and back again.

After what feels like an eternity she finally answers with a smirk on her face, "Very well but make it quick, the longer I wait the more my hunger grows."

You nervously reach out to Variel and timidly start petting her. She stays in place and allows your touch, so encouraged you press your luck further by scratching the sensitive area just behind her ears. She responds with a low rumble of pleasure as her tail begins to thump against the ground.

"Who's a good girl!" you say in an overly sweet voice.

"Watch your tongue little mouse." Variel snarls as she bares her sharp teeth.

"Meh, worth a shot." you mumble, trying to back away while keeping your eyes fixed on yours companion.

"Watch your back little mouse." Variel hisses before sprinting into the inky darkness, leaving you alone in the shadows.

So I hope you enjoyed this scenario and here's song that I use as a montage when I was writing my story again.

[cassiopeiagarcia]

Continued from here. @cheshire-shuntaro

'Don't call them machines!' A roar, like that of a caged, desperate lion, starved by captors to the point of madness, all of its family slayed before its feline eyes. A mere whisper left of the shout she had once been, of the commanding, but kind voice that had once filled her halls, of a woman who worried about everyone, who cared about the inhabitants of the kingdom. All that had changed when Soma's head had rolled on the ground, coming to a halt at her dainty little white heels, blood speckling them with red. She had screamed, a shriek like a slaughtered pig, and would have passed out if it wasn't because someone was holding her from behind, her brother and sister pressed tight at her sides.

How long had it been? She only remembered the red drool gurgling, coming from between her lover's lips, so much clotted blood all around the scene that it was now pitch black. A dark tide, sweeping over the sand, claiming back what the moon had stolen from it, and would take again by the end of the day. Every muscle in Cass' body had trembled. Still did, even now, just thinking about it. Thinking about… what?

A solitary hand, reaching out to her. Veins bulging from his neck before the executioner had lowered the hatchet. A body trembling for a moment and then standing still, sagged down, pale. Paler than it had ever been. Eyes that had looked for hers, a silent plead of forgiveness, a mouthed apology… She had croaked, spat phlegm and bilis, nails had clawed at her little brother's armor, at her older sister's wings, at every effort dedicated to keeping her still. Cass had let herself fall to her knees, clutching Soma's head in her arms like someone would a weeping baby, her weak fingers leaving a red traces across his beautiful face, his beautiful face, his beautiful face, his beautiful face… Where was he, now? Why didn't he come visit? What was he waiting for? Had he chosen Mira, after all?

'Soon, please.'

Why was she not dead, with him? Why not her, instead of him?

'Please, death…'

She blinked a few times, waking up from her slumber. Had she drifted off to sleep in the middle of her conversation with Cheshire? So it seemed. Her big, brown, sleepy eyes looked for those of the cat, and she remembered what she had been saying. She let out a childish chuckle, and covered her mouth with a long, veiny hand, so thin it looked like it could belong to a beggar. She had lost too much weight, her clothes hanging off her like a little girl trying out the wonderful dresses that belonged to her mother. She couldn't recognize herself the last time she had looked in a mirror and that's why she had broken them all; her body withered like a flower with the approaching winter, corpse-colored skin stretching over protrudent bones. 'They're not machines, they are my family!'

The kitten was too close to them for her liking, but she knew he couldn't hurt them. And, if he did, she'd just stitch them back together, like she had many times. She'd paint their arms and legs bright yellow, or maybe she'd opt for purple this time? Oh, purple. The color of a bruise, of lavender, of amethysts, of grapes. Ah, pretty, pretty. Maybe she'd add a few bones, so that they'd look more human and less robot ― she had a collection of them, by now. Belonging to all of her soldiers that had passed; long and short, big and small, wide and thin. Red-ish, with tendons and chunks of flesh still hanging from them, white, brand new, yellow, old, brown, oldest.

She left Cheshire and her siblings to their own devices, to their own manhunt, their own game of hide and seek, as she danced around the room, singing a song she once had sang to him, but her voice was nothing but a ghostly squeak. She, herself, was nothing but a ghost, one whose skin was icy cold, one whose pain couldn't be measured. Her feet dirty, her skin raw and red, and bleeding, and full of ulcers and wounds. He had been a doctor, in another life. He would have taken her into his arms, would have cured her. But now… She stepped on a broken teacup. She felt the pain so suddenly she nearly threw up, her stomach twisting and turning in a powerful way, agony flashing up her leg, but she ignored it and kept on dancing, only now she was dragging one of her feet behind, like a cripple. Maybe she'd made herself a cane with one of those bones she had been thinking about…

She froze in the middle of her ballroom routine, noticing that, apart from her singing, the rest of the palace was… silent. Furrowed eyebrows, a door being slammed shut and then, footsteps. Hardly making a sound, but each of them a jab of excitement in her chest. Was she finally going to die? Would Cheshire be the one to put an end to all this suffering? She was sad for her brother and sister… but she was sure they would be able to live without her, because they had each other. As long as only one of them was dead, the other two could survive. The issue would be when two died and one survived, or the three of them died, of course, but that was not going to happen, because Andro and Hércules were alive and kicking and fighting a war in her name and actually she hadn't heard their voices in a long time, should she be getting worried?

A shadow reached out across the floor, and she could have sworn it was one she knew very well, if it wasn't because he was dead. Or he had chosen Mira. Or he was in the infirmary, tending to his patients, tending to that little girl whose veins she, herself, had split open with a hunting knife like Moses did with the waters of the Red Sea and… She turned, weary, at the knock. And her heart skipped a beat.

Because there he was. Soma. Only… it wasn't him, was it? No, no, it wasn't. She would have recognized him everywhere, and his smell was not quite right, as wasn't the spark in his eyes when he looked at her. This… person, was observing her with devotion, while the real King of Hearts would only look at her with love. And there was a big difference between the both of them, because one of them involved reciprocation. But still… she could pretend. She wanted to, oh, so badly. So she did. It was easy fooling her damaged mind.

She swallowed from his every word like a starving person would a drop of water, leaned her face into his hand, let the tears mix with the blood and the dirt and while they didn't wash away the pain, not exactly, because it was like a big colossal rock in the middle of a river unaffected by the intensity of the waters surrounding it, they at least, gave her the tiniest bit of solace. One always felt better after crying, didn't they?

Sun of my life, what have you done? 'I'm burning this world to the ground, because it has no meaning without you.' She found herself answering, each syllable becoming harder and harder to pronounce. 'I'm killing because it's better to be killed by me than by her. I'm not taking care of myself because I wish to become a skeleton and lay down next to your remains for eternity. I don't want to have any meat left because I don't want the insects to lay claim on my body, or the scavengers to taste me. I want to be yours, only yours, my hand wrapped around your hand… or whatever is left of it. I want to get rid of this pain, but I can't, it's too big, it's too wide, it's too deep. I am trying to drain the whole sea, but I have nothing but a bucket, and it keeps raining. You call me sun of your life, but it's not true, you were mine and now you went away and you left me in the dark and the plants are not growing, and the herbivores are dying, and the carnivores are feasting but soon they will run out of food, too, and there will be nothing left, nothing left, nothing left…'

A way for things to go back to the way they were. She'd like that. She didn't believe it, but she'd like that. Maybe then, she could let go. Finally die. Because it had been the shame at what she was doing what had stopped the knife held by her shaking hand from stabbing at her heart, what had made her left the burning room between coughs and nausea, what had made her look, frantically, for the antidote of the poison, each and every time she had tried to join the love of her life in Heaven or Hell.

He fell to the ground. Cheshire did. Soma did. And she noticed the wound Andro had given him, looking at it with her head slightly tilted, with almost curiosity, with slightly squinted eyes. She didn't know much about treating such a thing, maybe he was too far gone? She still had to try; and so she went find her tools.

An arrangement of instruments laid before her about a quarter of an hour later; thread, scissors, needles, a cruel looking knife, a box of matches. She had stitched him up, as best as she had been able, and now his arm was slit all over with red lines, pink, red, dark, angry. The work of a torturer, more than a healer.

No words left her once rosy lips, now chapped, dry, and white as snow until she saw the Cheshire Cat opening his eyes, the corners of his mouth curving into his characteristic unnerving grin.

'Tell me about the woman who could aid.'

[slightlymore]

oh no, mr suh, please don't spank me

johnny x fem reader

cameo: taeyong

genre: !!smut!!, roommates au, fake enemies to lovers, a little tiny fluffy angst bc it's my brand apparently

warnings: a lot of mutual teasing, finger sucking, sexting, solo f and m, spanking, marking, dry humping, hand job, fingering, slight cum play, not protected, overstimulation f and m, multiple orgasms, penetration, manhandling, oral m and f, tiny degradation (sparse use of ‘little slut’), rough

words: 7K

it’s finally here!! this one is very juicy haha good luck I guess :) keep your panties dry challenge

taglist: @comically-sleep-deprived​ @strawberrymilkandcigarettes​ @theworld-accordingtocasey​ @kibumingi​

_____

"Johnny, get lost." 

You raised your eyes to meet Johnny's peaceful face in the middle of the corridor, one of them still twitching for waking up so early. 

He smirked and didn't move. 

You made a step on the right. 

He did the same. 

"John," you made a step on the left. 

His body kept blocking your way. 

"Why? Are you busy?" His voice was deep and thick like honey and in other circumstances you would have wanted to listen to it forever. But that morning you woke up without a single ounce of patience. 

You sighed and rolled your eyes. "Yes, unlike you." 

"I'm also busy."

"Oh yeah? Doing what?" 

"Getting between your legs."

In spite of everything, you couldn't help but snort once. 

He has been playing that game for weeks now. A little touch here, a little compliment there, but it was the first time to see him this pushy. 

"I told you that I don't want to sleep with my roommates," you walked around him, teasingly hitting his shoulder with yours. 

You weren't surprised to feel his fingers wrap your arm and turn you around. 

"You don't have to sleep with me. I can sleep well on my own. I need you awake."

Johnny let his palm dance on your skin until it got to your throat, his thumb rising slowly and caressing your lips. You gulped and looked down at his hand before locking eyes with him again. 

"You know what I mean," your breath and moving mouth tickled his finger and the twinkle in the man's eyes amused you. You were about to add something else but decided to do something instead - giving him new ideas to continue jerking off to later, since his dick will still be dry for a long time. 

But when you softly pulled his thumb into your mouth, you didn't expect to be the first to get that excited. 

Johnny let out the ghost of a sigh, staring at the way your pursed lips dragged around his skin, the softness of your tongue licking the tip after giving it a good suck. 

"Hm. Knew you were a little slut." 

You chuckled and raised your hands to press them on his chest and push him away before turning around with the intent of leaving him hot and bothered. 

But he was quicker. In a second your wrists were blocked by his strong fingers and his head was shaking. 

"No touching."

You narrowed your eyes amused. 

"Oh yeah? And what should I do for you to let me touch you?" 

His fingers intertwined with yours and if he didn't have that lustful expression on, the gesture would have been almost sweet. 

"Beg?" 

You opened your mouth in a slightly surprised o. 

"Me? Beg? I don't beg." 

Johnny let go of your hands with a smirk and ghosted your chest until getting to the hem of the oversized t-shirt you wore to bed. 

"Stop me," he whispered but all of a sudden you couldn't concentrate on forming words and frankly, you realized you didn’t want to either. 

So he knelt in front of you and slipped his fingers underneath the fabric, revealing your thighs and underwear, pushing it up until exposing your stomach. His breath tickled your skin first then you felt his lips, and when he placed the first kiss you got goosebumps all over your body. Johnny chuckled slowly and palmed your legs as if getting rid of the bumps but it only added to the heightening sensation his mouth was building up. And when he took out the tongue, circling your belly button, you breathed in deeply and grabbed his hair. He liked it since a pleasant grunt formed on his lips, which were going down until meeting the cotton of the underwear, then on one side, tackling your hip with slow kisses. 

Right when you were about to close your eyes and moan, you suddenly couldn't feel Johnny's lips on you anymore. You stared down just to see his annoying smirk, his locks still in your hand and his eyebrow raised upon seeing the little wet patch formed on your panties. 

He got up with a swift movement as if he had finished with all of his to-do list for the day and smiled. 

"I'll go make breakfast," he announced and walked around you whistling.

_____

Said breakfast was being consumed in silence. 

You had to change your underwear because the situation between your legs got too much out of control and when you came back Johnny already made coffee and pancakes. With little glances at his face you wondered how come he was that calm and, the most important thing, how come there was no tent in his gray sweatpants. 

Did he really think he could start a war and win? You scoffed while angrily munching on the last pieces of pancakes. 

"You okay?" he licked his lips after finishing his coffee. 

"Of course," you replied dryly, standing up and grabbing your plate directed towards the kitchen like a tornado. 

"Your vibes are kinda dark though?" he raised his voice for you to be able to hear over the clanging of dishes. 

"Mind your own business," you came back, the violent shift of air as you passed near him almost making his hair swoosh. 

_____

Tight clothes? No, more. Lingerie? Uh uh, more. Naked? Maybe too much. Towel? Fuck yeah, towel. 

Lips juicy, eyes glowing, and the plan was rolling as you stood inside the bathroom, grinning at yourself in the mirror, hands virtually rubbing against each other while physically they were wrapping your damp skin with the towel. 

Hidden behind a corner like a predator about to attack its prey, you waited to hear Johnny's steps coming towards the bedrooms. A little noise, calm and deep, arrived to your ears first. One step forward and the collusion was perfect. 

"Oh, sorry!" you bumped into him, the fabric shifting on your breasts, your fingers prudishly trying to cover yourself and - oops - failing. With hands pressed on your chest, the swell of it was even more visible now, the last drops of water shining on the skin and falling slowly inside the cleavage. 

Johnny remained silent, not even a tiny ‘sorry’ escaping his lips, his eyes completely trained on your body. Then, when you were already tasting the victory on your tongue, he suddenly looked behind you as if not wanting to look anymore. 

You shifted your weight from one foot to another, waiting for a more grand reaction but Johnny kept on a composed face. 

After a few seconds of silence, you were about to leave, lower lip between your teeth as your plan didn't make him go rogue. 

But then he whispered something under his breath and when you least expected it, he pushed you against the wall. The air got knocked out of your lungs making you breathless.  "You like dangerous games?" 

His tone was delicious, lips so close to yours, and you absolutely wanted to drink it all in. And he was right. You did like dangerous games and you also liked to win. 

"Yeah. And revenge as well." You finally smiled as one of your fingers slowly dragged on his chest, smoothing the creases of his white t-shirt. "Am I making you feel some type of way, John?" 

The man scoffed, staring you down. "Not really." 

"You can't even look at me in the eyes though.”

"Eyes? Something else requires my attention now, baby girl." 

The instant delicious burst of pleasure of his hands cupping your now nude breasts and his thumbs circling your hard nipples made your knees buckle. The towel, slowly falling until stopping around your waist, was dangerously close to getting to your feet if Johnny's hips weren't pressed against yours. 

One step back and you'd be naked in front of him and that wasn't your plan at all. 

No, no, wait. You were supposed to make him feel things, not the contrary. 

Then why were you letting him touch you like that? 

"Are you sure you're doing this for me and not for yourself?" Johnny smiled at your light panting and twitching fingers, pressed on his arms. 

"Enough," you whined, mind already blurry, so close to beg him to take you like that against that same wall. 

Johnny stopped and took a step back, his hands quickly going to your hips preventing the towel from falling any further. 

"I don't have to say it since it's obvious. But I've won. Again." 

You pulled the white fluffy fabric from his fingers with a huff and stormed into your room, the echo of Johnny's chuckle ringing in the whole corridor. 

_____

Disastrous. 

You couldn't believe that you got that hot and bothered when Johnny should have been the one salivating and losing his mind inside his room. 

Throwing away the towel you looked around for your clothes when a buzz from the bed made your head turn. 

"Are you touching yourself?" read Johnny's text. You snorted. Unbelievable. 

You weren't going to touch yourself. No, sir. You already lost a second time. You weren't about to give Johnny that satisfaction as well. 

From You: and if I were?

From Johnny: thinking about me?

From You: you wish.

You laid down, face illuminated from the phone and fingers hovering over the screen, somewhat invested in the conversation. But just a little. 

From Johnny: come on. do it.

You rolled your eyes amused and changed his display name. 

From You: you first 

From Evil dick: hm, I love winning though.

From You: you talk a lot for someone that's fucking his fist right now :)

From Evil dick: is this what you're imagining?

From You: yeah 

Johnny read the text and didn't reply anymore. You could not prove that he was taking care of his stiffy but the thought of him doing so made you feel triumphant. Perhaps it wasn't a full win but you could give yourself half a point. Only half. 

Because when you put your phone down, you couldn't stop your hand from sliding between your legs either. 

_____

You needed at least one win. 

Just once, only once, you wanted to see Johnny's honey eyes tremble under your touch. 

And the corridor was your arena apparently since the next day another opportunity arose. Short and quick. 

You smiled at him exiting his room and he smiled back. His lips were about to part and probably ask if you enjoyed yourself the previous night but no sound came out of them as your fingertip gently caressed his chest. It was barely there, a slight touch going slowly down. 

His jaw muscles tightened when you reached his pants and he jolted when you pulled his belt towards you. 

"It was a little crooked," you feigned innocence, your knuckles definitely brushing something that made him inhale silently. 

"I'm making breakfast." You smiled and walked around him, leaving Johnny alone in the middle of the corridor just like he did the day before. 

_____ “That’s not a win.”

You threw your head back on the couch arm, looking at Johnny upside down, the popcorn kernel you were currently about to eat stopped against your lips. 

“That was a win,” you replied. 

The man put his hands on his hips. “You just touched my belt.” 

You chuckled. “Yeah. Apparently that’s enough for you to cum, baby boy.” 

Johnny’s cheeks rose in a tight smile as you licked the salt and butter from your fingers. The look in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed to you and you loved it. His gaze caressed your face and open lips, then your exposed throat and low cut t-shirt. You knew he loved that angle. Could you possibly get two wins on the same day? 

“Want some popcorn?” you asked, handing him one kernel. Johnny put his hands on the couch’s arm, bending his frame down and taking it with his teeth. You looked away nonchalantly as his lips touched your fingers, and you grabbed another kernel for yourself. 

But Johnny was quicker. 

One hand on your jaw, pushing your head back even more, he took it from between your lips in a spiderman kiss. 

You couldn’t breathe for a few seconds, mouth open and skin burning from where his lips touched it. 

When you locked eyes again, you noticed him munching with a little smile. Still hovering over you, a few strands of hair covering his eyes, he swallowed and whispered. 

“I win.” 

_____

“Oh, no, I’m not drinking.”

Taeyong looked at you with the cocktail glass in his hand as if you grew two heads. “Y/N not drinking?” 

“I can’t drink. I’m on duty.”

You were still sitting on the couch in a ball, eyebrows furrowed and concentrated eyes. 

Taeyong took a sip from his drink then shrugged and took a sip from the one he prepared for you too. 

“On duty for what?” he plopped near you making you wobble slightly to the side. 

“War.” 

“On Johnny?” Your head snapped towards his innocent eyes. “You know about it?” 

The boy chuckled. “Want me to give you a few tips?”

He smacked his lips and shifted his weight to be more comfortable, his lids dropping as if about to share some juicy secrets. 

You imitated his position and leaned in to hear better.

“Make him jealous with me.” You blinked in silence a few times then sighed, pushing Taeyong away. “Are you trying to get between my legs too, now?” 

The other continued chuckling. “It was worth the shot. You can try stuff like touching him randomly, then.” You huffed. “You think I’m a newbie?” 

Taeyong sipped from both of his drinks again. “Then what about making him believe he got you so you can attack when he feels powerful?” 

_____

"Oh, no. I have flour on my clothes."

The dough you were working was still sticky so you got a handful of flour that accidentally went on your bottoms right when Johnny made his appearance in the kitchen. 

He looked down and, indeed, noticed a light layer of dust covering your black leggings. 

“Could you please clean them up for me? These are my favourites,” you pouted at him.  

Johnny smiled and sighed, getting closer and slapping your butt once, then twice, then again, until all the flour was cleaned up. 

"There's no reason to be this aggressive, you know?” you bit your lower lip. 

"But you like it this way. Don't you?" 

Another spank and you mewled, the sound making Johnny hum in appreciation. 

“You’re all clean now.” He stepped back and presumably stared at your ass with the excuse of checking for some more flour. 

“I didn’t say you could stop,” you whispered and almost regretted - key word ‘almost’ - saying it as your flatmate approached you again, his sudden dark aura making your skin crawl. 

“You want me to continue?” his voice caressed your ear, his tone highly amused.  

You acted as if gathering the courage to confess that, yes, you wanted him to spank you but, oh no, you were so shy and he was so strong, you couldn’t do it like that and in public!!? oh no, you couldn’t take it. 

“N-no, it’s better if we stop here. I- I don’t think I can handle it. It will make me go crazy.”

Even if not seeing him in the face, you could almost physically sense Johnny’s puzzled aura. Laughing to yourself you wondered what kind of reaction he would come up with this time. 

He didn’t say anything for a few moments and when you were about to turn your head to check on him, you felt his chest on your back and he engulfed your body with his arms as he pressed his hands on the counter in front of you. 

“Okay,” he whispered into your ear. “I’m giving this one to you.” 

_____

From Evil Dick: I can hear your vibrator from the kitchen

From You: I’m not using any vibrator right now From You: maybe it’s taeyong lol 

From Evil Dick: lol From Evil Dick: it’s definitely coming from your room tho

From You: you’re imagining things you wish were true

From Evil Dick: I don’t imagine you getting off on vibrators From Evil Dick: I like to be included in my fantasies :)

You: typing You: deleting You: typing You: deleting

From You: fuck you

From Evil Dick: fuck me yourself From Evil Dick: 4-2 for me

Johnny smiled brightly when you barged into his room. 

He was laying down in the dark, with only the phone illuminating his face. 

“Are you already done?” he asked teasingly. 

You stopped at the feet of his bed with crossed arms. 

“I’m here to fuck,” you announced. 

Johnny remained with his mouth open as his brain processed the information then laughed. 

“I don’t think you will,” he sat up, resting his back on the bed frame. The movement lifted his t-shirt a little, exposing the waistband of his boxers above the sweatpants and his lower stomach skin. 

You didn’t add anything and got on your knees on the bed instead, slowly crawling towards him until getting between his legs. Then you sat on your heels and took away your shirt. 

Johnny followed your frame and his eyes grew wide seeing you naked underneath the falling fabric. You smiled and his loss of words and you imitated his position, sitting in front of him and opening your legs to drape over his. 

“Holy shit, Y/N,” he whispered, eyes trained to where you slowly dragged your fingers. 

Inhaling deeply you closed your eyes and threw your head back, gently drawing circles around your clit before pushing two fingers inside of you. 

“Shit,” Johnny repeated and you whined, the wet sound telling him how you felt. 

“I didn’t say I’m here to fuck you. You can’t touch me nor can you touch yourself. If you do, you lose,” you instructed breathless and Johnny dug his fingers in the mattress underneath him. 

You smiled and bit your lower lip, fully enjoying his expression, his eyes looking as if drinking you in and were making you go crazy. 

But then he smiled too and it threw you off. 

In a second his hands were on your thighs as he pulled you towards him from underneath your knees until reaching the hand between your legs. He grabbed your wrists and blocked them in an iron grip. 

“You can’t touch yourself either.” 

You were breathing heavily, naked and so close to Johnny that you could almost feel the warmth of his body on your skin. 

“What’s with that face, baby girl? You wanted to cum?” he cooed at you. 

You bit your lower lip and shook your head. 

Johnny pouted. “Hm, baby girl can’t even lie well. Are you sure you don’t want to feel my fingers inside of you?”

You closed your eyes. “I don’t.” 

The other pulled you towards him by the wrists again until being able to whisper on your lips. 

“What about my tongue?” 

“Fuck, John, plea-” you interrupted yourself. 

Johnny smirked. “What was that? Please?”

You shook your head again. “No.” 

“I definitely heard you say please just now.” 

Panting and on the edge you considered just not caring about anything and fuck that man on the spot. 

“Truce,” you whispered. Johnny tilted his head to the side. 

“It’s not over and no one wins or loses this time,” you explained. 

“That’s convenient for you,” he teased. 

You huffed and fully sat on his lap, rolling your hips once on his hard cock. 

“I think it’s convenient for you too,” you commented after Johnny’s trembling sigh. 

His eyes grew darker and his hands grabbed your ass, pressing you on himself even harder. Your arms wrapped his neck and you hid your face into the crook of it, trying to conceal your whimpers. 

The rough material of his sweatpants did wonders to your sensitive clit and you didn’t need a lot to start shaking in Johnny’s arms. Your hips stopped as you moaned, digging your fingers into his shoulders but his hands on your waist forced you to go on. The overstimulation felt delicious and you didn’t care what words you mumbled into his ear, jolting every time his cock rubbed on your raw clit again and again. A few deep grunts and Johnny’s erratic movements told you that he was close too. You kissed his jaw then the skin next to it, then the corner of his lips, breathing in the air he breathed out then moaning once as he took his cock out and pumped it in his hand, spurts of warm cum coating your lower stomach. You looked down at the way it dripped between your legs and felt dizzy from pleasure. Johnny read your mind and quickly collected the drops fallen on your clit, drawing circles around it quicker and quicker until he had you shaking for the second time, head fallen on his shoulder and teeth digging into his neck skin. 

You remained like that, breathless and fucked out until you finally could manage to raise your head again. “This never happened,” you whispered and Johnny nodded amused.

_____

You yelped as Johnny’s wide palm slapped your butt unannounced. "John! I'm near the stove!" 

"Good morning," he smiled sweetly as he retrieved two coffee mugs from the cupboard. 

"What if I burnt myself?" you accused him even if you both knew it was highly improbable. 

"I would have kissed the bruise until the pain disappeared," he placed the mugs down and walked around you, positioning himself behind you and trapping you with his arms. One hand turned the stove off and the other danced on your stomach pulling you against him. 

"When will you stop?" you tried to steady your voice since your ass rubbing on your roommate's crotch wasn't exactly calming. 

"When you'll beg," he whispered in your ear with his playful tone. "But I'm not trying to do anything now. You were so caught up into staring at me that you didn't notice the eggs and I'm here to save them." 

You put your tongue inside your cheek to prevent yourself from smiling. Johnny breathed in as if trying to add something else but the sound of a voice made you both jolt. 

"What are you guys doing so early in the morning?"

You almost forgot you had other roommates besides your sworn enemy poking at your back with his cock. 

"Teaching Y/N how to make good eggs."

Taeyong raised one eyebrow at the scene in front of himself. "Yeah. Adding a sausage does make your eggs taste better." 

"Oh my God," you mumbled, turning around and pushing a chuckling Johnny away. 

"Do you want to know my recipe?" Taeyong raised his voice since you were already leaving the kitchen. 

"Two sausages--," then a smack and a fit of laughter as Taeyong promptly apologized for even daring to assume he could add himself into the equation. 

“Come on. I thought you were in a good mood this morning by the looks of that bright red hickey.”

“Yes and I don’t share what’s mine.” You almost stumbled on our own feet in the corridor.  

"I'm out of town this weekend, by the way. If you want to go all out…" was the last thing you heard and the one giving you the best idea for your new plan. 

_____

It was almost two in the morning and Johnny was nowhere to be seen. 

You rolled over on the bed with a huff then kicked the blanket staring at the lingerie you were wearing with sudden disgust. 

It was the weekend and the house was empty - the perfect occasion for you to play with Johnny. And where was he? Probably fucking somebody else. 

You were sick with anger. 

Getting out of the bed - his bed where you waited for him - you stripped out of the sexy lace and grabbed the first t-shirt you found. It was one of his and even though it was clean, it still smelled like Johnny. 

You got back under the covers and crossed your arms on your chest, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed. 

It wasn’t jealousy. You didn’t care if Johnny fucked other people. It’s not like you even fucked properly in the first place. You were just irritated that your plan didn’t work as you wanted it to. 

With an argh you turned on your side and hugged the other pillow, Johnny’s scent engulfing you all again. 

God, he made you so mad. 

_____

The first thing you realized as you woke up was the fact that your room didn’t have a black accent wall. 

The second one was Johnny’s arms around you - one behind your head and the other one thrown around your waist. 

You were sleeping on your back, one hand placed on top of his and the other one on the veiny forearm. With one finger you followed one of them until reaching the bicep then you slowly turned your head to look at him in the face. 

He didn’t close the blinds when he came home last night so the sun was shining brightly behind him, making him look like an angel. 

You smiled for a moment, staring at his calm expression and listening to his regular breath before widening your eyes in horror and snapping out of your sweet thoughts. 

What was that? 

You didn’t care about John Suh and you definitely didn’t care about the way his caramel hair was draping on his forehead. 

“Mm,” his raspy voice accompanied his strong arms pulling you towards him as you tried to slip out of the bed. “Where are you going?” he mumbled, eyes still closed and very much half asleep. 

You sighed and relaxed on your back again without a word and when Johnny rolled you over to face him you didn’t resist it. 

“Did you sleep well?”  “Where have you been?” you spoke on top of him. 

The words, or maybe your tone, made Johnny’s eyes open in an instant. 

You weren’t looking at him, your eyes were low on his chest instead. He raised one hand to cup your cheek with the intent to make you look at him but you flinched. 

“What’s going on?” he questioned. 

You sighed again and shook your head. “Nothing. I’ll make breakfast.”

As you tried to get out of the bed again, Johnny’s arms didn’t want to leave your body. “Y/N. Wait. Stay.” 

His hand got to your face a second time and this time you locked eyes with him. 

“I was out. Like most weekends,” he explained. 

You gulped and nodded. “Good.” 

“No, it’s not good. You don’t seem to like that.” 

You didn’t add anything, neither denying nor confirming it.

Johnny’s eyebrows met in the middle. “You’ve never had a problem with that.” 

“I don’t have a problem with that,” you finally managed to get out of bed and Johnny let you go this time. 

“I didn’t fuck anyone, if you’re wondering,” you heard him say as you walked the few steps towards the door. 

“I don’t care if you fuck people, Johnny.” 

“You do.”

Your feet stopped in place. “I don’t.” 

“You’ve just made the same expression you put on when you claim that you don’t want me to touch you and we both know that’s a lie.” His voice was calm but stern. “Just admit it.” 

You just resumed walking and exited the room. 

_____

It was weird and not something familiar to your gut, but every time you saw Johnny, you felt the urge to either kiss his lips, cry on the floor, punch his face or run away. 

The first was understandable, even if weird; the second one was absolutely weird and you had no idea what the fuck was going on with you; the third was also highly understandable. 

But it was the last one that you chose. 

So when Johnny entered the kitchen you got out. When he opened the door to his bedroom you closed yours. When he sat on the couch, you got up. 

Until he couldn’t take it anymore and barged into your room unannounced. 

“Hey! Knocking maybe?” 

You were on the bed, scrolling through your phone and looking absolutely impresentable. 

“Talk to me.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not in the mood to play right now, John.” 

He walked over and sat on your bed. 

“I don’t want to play. You’re avoiding me.” 

“Look, it was fun for a while, but I don’t feel like continuing the little game we had going on. Let’s go back to how it was before.” Y

ou hoped you sounded convincing to him because you didn’t sound convincing to your own ears. 

Your words did make Johnny put on a sour expression though and you pretended to not notice. 

“Okay,” he said after a moment and you retrieved your phone from the bed, expecting the conversation to be over. 

Yet, when he placed his palm on your thigh your hand stopped in mid-air. 

“What are you doing?” 

He looked down to where his finger slowly caressed your skin, creating little goosebumps all over it. Then Johnny looked up and whatever expression you had on, it was enough for him as he suddenly got up and left the room. 

_____

“Brr, this house is colder than the heart of my elementary crush after he refused to share his food with me.” 

Both you and Johnny ignored Taeyong’s words, busy rolling your peas into your own plates. 

“What happened while I was away?” 

“Nothing happened,” you mumbled. 

“Hm,” the boy commented, munching on his food. “Wait,” he stopped, struck by realization, “ you mean like - nothing - happened? This is why you’re both mad? You didn’t fuck?” 

You rolled your eyes and got up with the plate in your hands. 

“She’s mad because she doesn’t want to admit that she has feelings for me.” 

The bomb that Johnny threw made both Taeyong and you shake in your places.

“What?” you asked incredulously. “I don’t have feelings for you.” 

Johnny calmly put down his fork and looked up at you. 

“Well, I do.” 

You opened your mouth in a silent shock while Taeyong initially gasped then soon after shrugged, whispering under his breath. “I mean, it was kinda obvious in his case.”

“And I don’t like the fact that you think I have space in my mind for other people besides you,” he continued. “Because it’s not true.” 

“Woah,” Taeyong rested his back on the chair as if watching a soap opera. 

“Did you really have to do this in the living room at dinner time?” you asked him after a few seconds of opening and closing your mouth like a fish. 

“Oh?” Johnny raised his eyebrows. “You want to take this to the bedroom instead? Let’s go,” he got up suddenly. 

“Aw, guys, come on. You always hide the funniest stuff from me!” whined Taeyong seeing you leave. 

“You know what I mean!” you replied to Johnny but still followed his quickly moving frame inside his room. He closed the door behind him and crossed his arms on his chest as if waiting for you to talk. 

“What?” you imitated his position. 

“Say something?” 

“I don’t know what to say! What does one say after all of that?” you questioned. 

“Do something? I just said I am in love with-” 

In the end you did something and that something was wrapping his neck with your arms and kissing him deeply. 

Johnny remained still for a moment as if shocked before finally relaxing his arms and tightly pulling your body towards his. 

Your mind was empty and you had no idea what was going on but after a few seconds of tasting Johnny’s tongue you were already thrown on the bed. It creaked under Johnny’s force and you jolted at the way he dragged your pajama pants down. No sexy outfit and no lace lingerie to meet his eyes, yet they were full of such intensity and lust that you realized it didn’t matter at all. Hands in his hair, you raised your bust to connect your lips again. 

“I was so fucking mad you weren’t home that night. I thought I was about to go crazy,” you breathed out while Johnny was palming your torso, lifting up your t-shirt and cupping your breasts. 

“I know. Punish me then. Show me your anger,” he joked.  But his reply turned a switch into your body and you managed to push his chest away from you. He smiled at your reaction and rolled over on his back, letting you straddle his lap. 

“I’m going to tease you so much until you’ll be the one begging me to touch you.”  

Johnny caressed your thighs. “Hm. I don’t need any teasing. You’re breaking me with your mere presence. Please, please, touch me.” 

Your breath got stuck in your throat and you couldn’t see anymore. The grunts leaving Johnny’s throat as you bit into his neck were so hot that you wondered what stopped you from letting yourself hear them before. And when you moved to his chest, then stomach, littering his skin with love bites his muscles twitched under your touch. 

You had no words to describe how it felt to have him inside your mouth. Heavy, hot and so present, you choked only on a third of it. 

“Shit,” you mumbled, taking it out and pumping it instead with your hand. 

Johnny loved it anyways and he looked at you with such intensity that you wondered if you could make him cum with only a few kitty licks. 

“It’s alright. You don’t have to,” he breathed out. 

“It’s alright. I know I have a monster cock and you don’t have to suck on it if you can’t handle being deepthroated,” you mocked him trying to imitate his tone. “Well, I want to and I will.”

And so you listened to Johnny’s airy chuckle, broken by the feeling of your mouth on him again, this time deeper than before. 

“You love a challenge, huh?” 

You would have said that, yes, you loved it and you loved to win, if it weren’t for his cock sliding down your throat making it difficult to talk. 

“Fuck, baby, that’s- oh shit-,” he grabbed your head as you bobbed your head up and down a few times before you couldn’t take it anymore and let it out with a lewd plop. 

“Baby?” you raised one eyebrow at him. 

“You don’t like it?” 

“Do I look like a baby to you?” you smiled with wet lips, your hand restlessly pumping his cock hard and fast. 

Johnny grunted again, his hips rising to meet your touch even more. 

“Hm, no, you look like a little slut right now,” he agreed with a smirk before his expression changed again into, you realized in that moment, the best view you’ve ever seen in your whole life. Head thrown back and completely at your mercy, Johnny came hard, his whole body twitching as his cum spurted on your hand and face. 

“I think I won this time,” you pumped him a few more times before letting him go. “Hm, you drink so much coffee,” you smacked your lips after licking his cum off your fingers. 

“This wasn’t part of the game.” 

“Yeah, well, I’ve just decided that it was,” you shrugged. 

Johnny grabbed his discarded t-shirt and cleaned his stomach. “So, are we playing now?”

His tone got dangerous and his expression made your wet pussy even drippier but you had no time to worry or form a single thought about it since you suddenly found yourself with the face on the mattress instead. 

You turned your head sideways to be able to breathe and Johnny’s hands didn’t even try to be gentle when they pulled your panties down. 

The loud smack arrived before the sensation of his big palm on your asschecks could. When you finally felt the burning sensation, another slap added to that. 

Your fingers grabbed Johnny’s blanket, preparing yourself for the third spank, absolutely not expecting his tongue inside of you instead. 

“Fuckfuckfuck-” you mewled but your sounds only made Johnny more ferocious, hands opening you up, eating you out as if he’d been dying to do so for a long time. And it was true for yourself too, but no imagination of yours could have realistically portrayed the way he was making you feel and no fingers of yours could reach as deep as his did, fingering you fast, tongue not stopping for a second, not even when you violently went over the edge with the loudest moans you’ve ever heard yourself emit. 

“You win, you win-,” your rough throat tried to stop him from torturing your overstimulated clit and you heard him suck on his fingers after he let you go. 

“Okay, I’ll take it. But this is just the beginning. Are you going to let me fuck you, baby?” he caressed your ass, going down to your waist and cupping your breasts. 

The movement made his cock poke at your entrance and you imperceptibly opened your legs even more. 

“Yes, please,” you whispered back, turning your head to meet his lips as he lifted your chin. 

“Hm? Say that again?” 

“Please.” 

His tip easily slipped inside but the stretch still made you hiss through your teeth. Johnny shushed you, kissing your shoulder and neck until he bottomed out. “You can handle it, right baby?” You tried to nod but his first thrust knocked the air out of your lungs and you let your head fall down again with a whine. 

Johnny moved again and again then stopped with a grunt. “Beg a little for me again.” 

You bit your lower lip, his tip pressing right when you needed it to and you wanted him to do it non stop. 

“I don’t think I will beg again,” you whispered with a smile and started to move your hips instead. It was a sloppy and slow job, nowhere sharp and quick as Johnny’s, but you had to win again. 

The man let your ass bounce on his stomach a few times, staring at the way you were stretched around him then he grabbed your waist and left you all empty. 

You whined, clenching yet nothing being inside of you anymore. 

“I said beg.” 

His breath was now on your spine, his wet mouth placing kisses on your skin, making it shiver and taking some of it in his teeth, sucking on it until he was satisfied. 

But you remained silent and he clicked his tongue at your stubbornness. In a single go he filled you up again and this time he never stopped. 

He was breaking you in half and if you hadn’t already had tears in your eyes, this would have been the time to start crying from pleasure. 

“Holy fucking shit--John-” you cried out, breath rhytmically broken by his deep thrusts and when he added his slaps again, you just lost it all, cumming so hard that the neighbors were probably ready to call an ambulance. 

Johnny stopped balls deep inside of you, feeling the way you clenched around him. And when you thought it was over, when you barely started to hear again, he moved as hard as before, shushing you and pressing his fingers roughly into your skin. 

“You can handle another round, right baby? You’re such a pretty little slut with a bigger attitude than she can carry. This is nothing for you.” 

Fucked dumb, you could only nod and Johnny started to lose control himself, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, some drops falling from his collabones to his chest. And when you felt his cum spurt inside of you, you finally begged, repeating it again and again. Johnny didn’t stop and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to move at all the next day when your muscles contracted for the nth time in so little time, collapsing completely after Johnny slowly slipped out of you. 

His breath felt wet and boiling on your face when he dropped beside you. 

He swallowed a few times trying to catch his breath. “Fucking finally. I knew it was going to be epic. Why did you refuse me for so long? Look what you missed.” 

You would have snorted if you had the force so you resorted to just let out a whine. “I refused so I couldn’t see this. I have a big attitude? Well, you have the biggest ego in the world.” 

Johnny turned his head towards you. “And cock.” 

You rolled your eyes and accepted his hands pulling you towards his chest. 

“Ew, you’re sweaty,” you mumbled. He kissed your forehead. “And you love it.” “No,” you denied it, “butIloveyou,” you added quickly. 

Johnny shook your body in a hug. “Hm?? Say that again.” 

“I didn’t say anything!” 

That grown man pouted at you making his eyes wide and glossy. “Please?” 

“Whoa,” you smiled, “are you acting cute at me right now? After killing me with your monster cock?” 

Johnny nodded cutely and repeated the plea. 

“Okay, okay. I-- love you.” 

He chuckled happily and tightened his arms around you again, squeezing you in an almost mortal hug. 

“Again.”

You sighed realizing that you were suddenly dealing with a child. 

“I love you.” 

And you repeated it again and again until you were sure that he finally fell asleep. 

With one hand to caress his face you finally indulged in staring at him, fully realizing what that weird sensation in your gut was. 

“I really love you.” 

Your whisper was tiny and barely audible but Johnny smiled. 

“I know. And I love you too.”

[spideymarvelws]

Playing truth or dare with college!Peter and MJ dares you to give him a (private) lap dance

This turned out to be much longer than expected

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To My Taglists

Warnings : SMUT! (Lap dance?ish?kind of? i went a bit of script im sorry, thigh riding, grinding, dirty talk, dom!peter, innocence kink, corruption kink?, masterbation, oral[male rec], mild degrading), alcohol consumption, everyone is 18+, kinda fluffy in the beginning but we do be getting smutty real quick tho, MJ being your personal wing woman

Also please dont take drinks from strangers this is fiction and not real life, always drink responsibly :)))

Word Count : 4.8k

Behind Doors

Fratboy!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

You tried to keep your staring to a minimum, you really did. But how could you when he stood in the middle of the crowd, glowing like an angel amongst everyone. He was laughing with his friends, his head tilted back with his eyes squeezed shut and a smile that could make anyone's day so much brighter. You wanted nothing more but to run your hands through his floppy brown hair bouncing on his head as he told his mates a story, his facial and hand movements lively when he moved them around, accentuating the words falling from his mouth.

His fit didn’t help either. A tight white t-shirt paired with blue jeans and a gold chain that hung from his neck, begging to be played with in any way. It was simplistic but made you swoon all the same. His muscles printed through the fabric didn’t help much either, his biceps almost tearing through the sleeves a mouth watering contrast to his cheerful face.

It was like staring at a greek god that radiated puppy dog energy.

“You’re not being subtle you know,” MJ whispered into you ear nudging your side with her elbow, “Just go talk to him,”

You shook your head, heat rising to your face as you averted your eyes from the brown eyed boy, turning to face your best friend, “You know i can’t do that,”

“Not with that you aren’t,” she pointed at the red solo cup you held in your hand filled halfway with orange juice. She quickly snatched the cup away from you, dumping the contents in the grass of the backyard.

“Hey!” You gasped, but made no effort to stop her.

“You need to loosen up,” she stabbed her finger into the middle of your chest, shoving her drink into your hands, “All of it, now,”

You took the cup hesitantly swirling the contents inside around for a bit, watching as the liquid moved smoothly around the sides of the plastic. You looked back up at MJ, feeling small when she stared you down with a stern look. You knew you weren’t finding a way out of this one.

“Fine,” you grumbled before tilting your head back, chugging the alcohol down. You let out a few coughs afterwards, giggling as MJ started to cheer.

“That’s my girl!” She wrapped her arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her side, “Now for about five more,”

Two hours and four drinks later, or maybe it was six you weren't keeping count, the party finally started to die down. The liquor running through your system did its job well in letting you loosen up so you could enjoy the party without being distracted by a certain brown haired boy.

You had lost MJ halfway through the night, your mind finally processing that she wasn’t by your side when you reached for her to dance with you. As you busied yourself by looking around the room, you felt someone place their hand on your lower back, sending shivers up your spine with the touch. You whipped your head around, expecting your equity intoxicated friend but only to be met with the same brown eyes you’ve been fawning over at the beginning of the night.

“Hey,” he said into your ear so that you heard it over all the noise. He moved his hand off your back after he got your attention. You tried your best to keep the tiny whine from escaping your throat at the loss of his touch. The free feeling you felt with the alcohol completely vanished with the sound of his voice turning you into that shy nerd all over again.

“Looking for someone?” He said, pushing the tips of his fingers into the front pockets of his pants.

You stood speechless, you mouth agape that Peter Parker, the Peter Parker was talking to you. MJ was wrong, no amount of alcohol could’ve prepared you for the moment. At least you didn't scurry away like a mouse like you would’ve if you were fully sober.

“I- uh,” you coughed, trying to get some words out but failing miserably.

“Sorry, It’s just I saw you looking around,” he scratched the back of his neck, chuckling at your flustered state. His cheeks starting to turn a light pink which made you swoon even harder, “I assume you’re looking for MJ, since you were with her for most of the night,”

“Oh, right,” you mumbled, laughing awkwardly, looking down to the ground, “How did you know I was with her?”

“You guys are always together!” He smiled showing off his pearly whites, “Around campus you know? I’ve seen you guys together in my classes as well,”

“You noticed me?” You whispered, mainly to yourself but he managed to pick up your words, making you even more embarrassed than before.

“Of course!” He passed his hand through his hair, looking straight into your eyes, “How could I not Y/n?”

You stood speechless, your mouth opening and closing as if you wanted to say something but changed your mind last minute. Millions of thoughts ran through your brain per second, the most frequent being your name rolling off his tongue.

“Anyways, uh, the main reason i came was to bring you to MJ,” he chuckled nervously, seeming just as flustered as you, “She’s in one of the spare bedrooms with some of the boys, we’re playing a good ole’ game of truth and dare,” he voice raised adorably, making you giggle lightly, “You don’t need to join or anything, but i don’t think you would want to be alone out here,”

“Yeah!” you replied a bit to quickly, shaking your head at your enthusiasm, “I mean, yeah, I would like to join you,”

“Sick!” He smiled brightly, grabbing your hand. Your eyes widened at the action as he pulled you through the crowd, you looked down at the ground, allowing him to maneuver you around the mass of bodies.

“Just so you don’t get lost,” he said, looking back at you, pointing out your intertwined hands.

“Of course!” You said back, holding back your squeals of excitement.

You were honestly surprised with how sweet he was acting towards you. Despite his status as part of the biggest frat on campus, his reputation upholded him as the good boy of the group, the one who helped old lady’s across the street or bought lunch for you when you didn't have the money. Sure, you saw this on multiple occasions but to experience it for yourself was a nice change, and just solidified your crush on him even more.

When he reached the stairway vacant of anybody, he still didn't let go of your hand, only tightening his fingers around yours. He walked down the dark hallway and approached a door ,giving you a reassuring smile before turning the knob and pushing it open, revealing around eight or nine people. Some laid on the bed, beers in hand as they laughed while others sat on the couch. You spotted MJ on the floor, laughing with Harry Osborn.

“Who’s the chick Parker?” One of the boys said, silencing the room and putting everyone's attention on you.

“This is Y/n,” he gestured towards you, “Y/n, everyone,” Peter finally let go of your hand, popped himself on the edge of the bed, picking up a beer from the side table and nodding his head at the empty space besides him.

You looked towards MJ panicked, but all she did was mouth ‘go’ with a shit eating grin. You sneered back at her, rolling your eyes as you walked up to the bed, bending your right leg back to sit on your calf while the other dangled over the edge.

“You’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Peter leaned into your ear, whispering gently, “Again, you don’t have to do anything you don’t have to,”

You pouted at his actions, melting at the fact that he was so observant with you. You looked down at his beer, before looking back up at him. If you were going to get through the rest of the night, you needed to be absolutely wasted.

“Do you have another beer?” You asked him, pointed to his bottle.

“You could just have mine,” he offered his drink, passing it off to you.

You bit your lip, taking a long swig of the liquid, “Thank you,”

Before the both of you could converse any longer, a girl with short blond hair you knew from English, called out from the corner, “Okay, okay, who wants to go next?”

“I think Y/n should go,” flash said, holding up his bottle towards you, “She’s the new one isn’t she?”

Peter looked at you, silently asking if you needed him to say anything. But you decided to take things into your own hands for the first time that night.

“Yeah, I’ll go,” you said, taking another swig of beer.

“Alright Y/n,” Harry said smugly, leaning back on his forearm, “Truth or dare?”

You thought about it for a bit, missing the smug look on MJ’s face as you muttered, “Dare”

“I dare you to give Peter a lap dance,” she said immediately, leaning back as she held in her laugh at your washed out face, “I mean we could send you to the other room if you want more privacy,”

You sat speechless and once again wanted to melt into the sheets beneath you. You felt Peter’s hand wrap around yours, giving him your attention.

“Only if you want to,” he muttered, giving you a soft smile.

“I-,” you took a deep breath, trying to gather the little confidence you had left, “Which room?”

Hollers and shouts bounced off the walls, as everyone hyped both of you up. Peter stood, pulling you up with him, leading you out the room.

“Take as much time as you need!” You heard MJ shout after you before the door closed, leaving you and Peter alone once again.

Your heart pounded inside your chest as Peter guided you once again to another room. You gulped, wondering if you had made the right decision so give a lap dance to your crush. He didn’t say anything as he knocked on a door, opening it when he didn't hear any noise come from the room.

“After you,” he said politely.

“Thank you,” you said shyly, walking to the middle of the room.

Peter closed the door behind him, leaning against the wood, “Sooooo,” he dragged looking you up and down, “I- uh, didn't expect you to say yes,”

“Me neither,” you chuckled, looking down to the floor.

“I mean if you don’t want to, it’s just a silly bet,” Peter said, fiddling with his fingers.

“Do-,” you coughed, “Do you want me too?”

“It’s up to you really,”

“But would you mind if i-“

“I mean I wouldn’t be against it-,”

You both laughed nervously falling into silence after that. You looked around the room, finding interest with everything besides him. You were fidgety, playing with your fingers while tapping your foot on the floor rapidly to calm your nerves. It was stupid, you’ve been dreaming about him for so long, and now that you were finally in a room together you clamed up, not knowing what to do in his presence.

Peter on the other hand kept his gaze on you, his eyes racking your body up and down. He wasn't going to lie to himself and say that he’d never thought of this moment, the moment where you and him were finally together, in a room, all alone.

You were different from the girls he was used to in the frat. You were untouched, well to his knowledge, you were a clean slate and from the small confrontations he’s had with you, he could tell you were obedient too.

He wanted so bad to just have his way with you, to absolutely ravish you like he did in his dreams. But he wanted to savour it. After so long of watching you pin over him, purely to feed his ego, he was ready to take things to the next level and what better way than with a good lap dance. Sure he was the good guy, both as himself and as his alternate persona as a hero, but when it comes to you, all his morals were thrown out the window.

Besides, you were both intoxicated and he didn't want your first time together to be at a stupid party in a room he was barely familiar with.

After a few more seconds of silence, Peter decided to take things into his own hands, to make his fantasy a reality, or to just get it started at least. He was the first to make a move, walking right up to you, taking your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up to look at him while his other hand made its way to the side of your waist, pulling you closer.

“Y/n?” He asked, swiping his thumb across your lips. He may have an unhealthy obsession with them but it didnt matter because in the next few moments he would make them his, “I’m not stupid you know,”

You blinked rapidly, tilting your head to the side at his statement, confused and slightly hurt.

Peter only chuckled, slipping his thumb between your lips for a split second before pulling it back out and resting it back on your plump lip, testing the waters, “I said i noticed you, and when I mean I noticed you,” he leaned forward, placing his lips near your ear, “I meant everything, down to the constant heart eyes,”

You held your breath, not knowing how to feel, what to think. Peter Parker, the Peter Parker, was standing in front of you, playing with your lips with such close proximity, telling you that he was aware of your existence. That there was a chance that he might feel the same way about you.

You had to remind yourself that this was just a bet, that he didn’t mean anything he was saying. He was only doing it because he had to. Even if he was a sweet boy by heart, he still had a reputation for sleeping around, that to him you were just another girl to add to his collection. 

But when he pushed his thumb into your mouth, you knew you'd fall victim as well.

“Mhh,” he hummed, “such a good girl, just like i knew you’d be,” suddenly, he pulled his thumb out of your mouth and sat back down on the bed, pulling you to straddle his lap, “Now, i believe you have a dare to fulfill,”

“I- uh,” you stuttered, hesitantly placing your hands on his shoulder as you settled into his hold.

“You’ve never done this before, have you princess?” Peter mumbled, hovering his lips over yours.

“i-,” you shook your head, lost for words when he called you princess.

He hummed, one of his hands gripping your waist while the other laided on your cheek, rubbing the soft skin with his thumb, “Let’s start off slow then,” his thumb moved to your mouth once more, playing with the bottom lip. You sat frozen, letting him take control. You didn't trust your body to move, you could barely even talk.

“I’ve always wondered what it was like to kiss these perfect lips,” he whispered, moving to kiss your neck, trailing his way up to the corner of your mouth, “I’d imagine you’ve though the same,”

You nodded, tightening your hold on his shoulders. Peter laughed, his breath hot on your face.

“You’re going to need to say something if you want me to continue princess,”

“Yes,” you squeaked, clearing your throat, embarrassed by your quick response, “Yes, I-uh, I’ve thought about this, yeah,”

“Hmm, good,” he mumbled before finally latching his lips on yours, keeping your face close with his hand.

His lips were rougher that you imagined, probably from constantly licking them for most of the night. But the more you kissed, your mouths opening and closing with each other like its own dance, the more wet and lustful it became. You could feel your body begin to relax into his, melting into the warmth. His confidence only grew with the soft moans escaping your mouth, quickly slipping his tongue inside when your lips parted, exploring your mouth with vigour and purpose.

Your breath hitched in response, using your own tongue to match his movements and tangling it with his, fighting for dominance you were sure he was going to win. Your fingers ran through his hair, tugging at the short curls at the base of his neck, smiling when he groaned into your mouth. You beamed at him when you finally pulled away, a string of spit connected your lips.

“This seems more than just a lap dance,” you let out a shaky sigh, resting your forehead against his.

He chuckled, using his hands to bring your hips closer to his crotch, your dress rolling further up around your waist.

“Then what are you waiting for,” he said cockily, leaning back on his forearms, looking back at you expectantly.

You let out a breath, readjusting yourself on his lap before moving your hips slowly. Your pussy barely made contact with his now hard cock poking through his jeans, teasing it ever once in a while when your panties brushed the tent. You smirked, despite not knowing what the hell you were doing, it seemed like you were doing a decent job.

“Don’t get to cocky princess,” he groaned, squeezing your waist tightly, “You forget that I’m the one in charge here,”

You bit your lip, muttering a soft sorry.

He hummed, nudging his nose with yours, “Let me help you then,” 

He grasped your hips, pulling your it closer to his crotch, grinding it against your core. You let him guide you with his hands, following his lead supporting yourself with your own hands clutching on to his shoulder.   

He let out a long sigh, his head falling back. You took that as the queue to grind faster, enjoying the effect you had on him with such a simple movement. Your confidence grew with the noises escaping his throat along with the occasional praise only fueling your need.

In a rush of the moment, you moved your hands to the back of his neck, pulling him into a needy kiss. It was much more sloppier and messier than the previous one, your focus more on moving your hips than keeping your lips in sync with his.

But you wanted more. As much as you enjoyed Peter’s eyes trailing your body, his hands exploring your waist and the angelic look on his face, you couldn't help but wonder if it stopped there. If you could make his moans louder, his hips jut against your with need, just as much as you needed him.

After a few more moments, an idea popped into your head with the faint sound of music coming from downstairs.

“Peter,” you decided to purr in your ear, biting your lip when his eyes fluttered open, dark and filled with lust.

“Yes princess,” He cooed, moving his hands back to your waist while keeping eye contact, brushing his lips over yours. But before he could fully kiss you, you pulled away, giggling at the little whine he let out.

“What is it?” he pouted, rolling his eyes when you didn’t respond, only biting your lip in thought. He grabbed your jaw, focussing your gaze back on him, “You were being such a good girl, what happened hmm?”

“I- I have an idea,” you gulped, the confidence you felt seconds ago melting away under his stare, “Do you have a speaker?”

He nodded his head, pointed to a desk in the corner with a small black speaker sitting on top. You smirked, hopping off his lap and running to the box. Peter leaned back on hands, watching with curious eyes as you pulled out your phone from your jacket pocket, tapping it open and typing in your password.

“What’s going through that head of your princess,” he mumbled, but loud enough for you to hear.

You only giggled in response, playing around with the speaker to turn in on. After a few more seconds of fiddling, you spun around with your phone in hand and a teasing smile on your face. Your finger pressed down on the screen, the room filling with the song Love Is A Bitch by Two Feet.

He scoffed, “And here I am thinking you were just an innocent little thing,” 

You bit your lip, looking down shyly and placing your phone on the table, your back facing him, “I just wanted to set the mood,”

“Was grinding down on me not enough?” he teased, “Are you always this greedy?”

You let out a breath before turning around, your heart practically beating out of your chest, “Only with you,”

You glanced up at the brunette face, nervous that maybe you took it too far. It was just a simple lap dance, nothing more and nothing less and you should've kept it that way. But the kiss was addicting, keeping you in a daze where all you wanted was more. More of his touch, his mouth, his taste.

You’ve wanted him for so long and now that you dipped your toes in the waters, you wanted to dive in and never come out. What really kept you going was his reactions to your touch, the small grunts and moans escaping his mouth because of you. He wanted this as much as you did or else he would’ve shut you down by now, right?

You were just getting ahead of yourself.

“Come here Y/n,” he almost growled, his eyes never leaving you while you shuffled your way between his legs, yelping when he gripped your waist and pulled you back down. Instead of straddling his waist, he moved you so your legs were on either side of his left thigh.

You went to speak but the gripped your jaw with his forefinger and thumb, forcing your eyes on him.

“You never fail to surprise me princess,” he whispered, his free hand trailing up your waist, brushing past your breasts, “I thought I had to treat you like a good girl, take my time with you” he chuckled darkly, “Turns out you need this just as much as I do, my greedy, desperate little thing,”

You bit your lip, tucking your head in the crook of his neck to avoid his stare. The pet names he gave you was already enough to leave you a mess but adding ‘my’ in front of it made you melt. You wanted to be his, you wanted him to take control of your body and use you as he pleased. He adjusted his thigh, having it bump against your clothed pussy. Heat rose to your face when you let out a small whimper, settling back on his leg, craving the friction but you didn’t move, waiting for specific instructions.

“You weren’t so shy before, what happened?” he kissed the shell of your ear, “Go on princess, ride my thigh like the desperate whore I know you are,” 

Without thinking you began to grind your pussy along his thigh, your face growing hotter when you felt the wetness seep on to his jeans. Peter kept his hands on your waist, keeping your movements at his own past, occasionally bouncing his leg, enjoying the little whines you let out. When you started moving faster, he knew you were nearing your high.

“Princess, look at me,” he grunted,“I want to see that pretty face when you cum,”

You let out a shaky sigh, pulling your head up to face him but you could barely keep your head up, too concentrated on moving your hips against the rough fabric of his jeans. He quickly recognised this and wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing lightly to get some of your attention. 

“Peter,” you whimpered, near to tears with how close you were to climaxing, “Peter please,”

“What is it princess? You want to cum? Is that it?”

You nodded quickly, “Please,”

“Go ahead princess,” he grinned, smashing his lips against your to swallow your moans as you came on his thigh, your hips moving in slow strokes to prolong the feeling. You pulled away after a few moments of feverish kissing, your arms falling limp around his shoulders.

“Fuck,” you sighed, your forehead falling against his with the breathless laugh, “That was-”

“Great? Amazing? The best experience of your life?” he laughed, falling back against the mattress, pulling you down with him. You giggled, shoving your face in his neck and inhaling his comforting scent.

“Yeah,” you turned your head to face him, pouting when a piece of his hair fell in front of his stunning eyes. You moved it out of his face, kissing his nose in the process, “I liked it a lot,”

“That’s good, that’s good,” he whispered, tightening his arms around you.

All of a sudden you felt something poke at the inside of your thigh. It took you a few moments to realise that he was hard and was probably aching to get off at this point in the night. 

“Do- do you want me to help?” you said shyly, sitting up on your hands to fully face him.

“You don't have to princess,” his hands passed up and down your waist, “Seeing you fall apart from my thigh is all I needed tonight,”

The twitch of his eye and dryness of his lips told you otherwise. 

“Are you sure?” you bit your lip, moving your hand slowly down to his hard on, “because I don’t mind helping Petey,”

You didn’t know where the nickname came from but it was too late to take it back. Judging by the dark look in his eyes and the almost cynical look on his face he didn’t mind.

“You want to help me princess? Are you sure you know what you’re in for?”

You shook your head eagerly, “Just tell me what you want,”

“And what if i want you to suck my cock?”

“I would do it,”

“Do what?”

“Su- suck your cock,” you replied bashfully looking down at your hands now intertwined on his stomach.

“Aww, is my princess getting shy?” he fake pouted, “After getting off on my thigh like a slut, you’re getting shy about taking me in your mouth?”

“I-”

“It’s alright princess i’ll guide you through it,” he reached down to unzip his jeans, shuffling awkwardly to push them down so he could get his member out. You watched as his hard dick slapped against his chest, big and throbbing.

He moved your hips back so that you straddled his legs this time, taking your hand and raising it to your mouth.

“Spit,” he instructed, looking up at you with hunger, “Now,”

You hesitantly spit into your hand, watching in awe as the wad fell into your hand.

“Good girl,” he sighed, moving your hand to wrap your small finger around the base of his cock, “Have you ever jerked someone off princess?”

“Just two,” you respond hesitantly.

Peter gritted his teeth, trying to get the idea of you touching anyone else out of his mind, “Well let's make this your third and final guy hmm?” his breath hitched when you started to move your hand up and down his cock, “You’re mine now princess,”

In the spur of the moment you leaned down, licking the red tip of his member, “Only yours,” you whispered before taking him halfway in your mouth, gagging and pulling yourself back up.

“Take your time princess,” he gulped, ���fuck but you could do that again if you’d like though,”

You giggled, licking and kissing the sides of his cock and taking it once more, reaching further than this time than you did the last. You bobbed your head continuously only raising your head to take a breath and going in again.

“Fuck princess, I knew your mouth would be good,” he groaned, “You’re doing so well, taking my cock so good down your throat, fuck!”

You smiled around his length, the back of your throat contracting around the tip making him moan your name. Before he could praise you even more, someone's voice cut his words off.

“Everything alright in there?” MJ said through the door but you were too lost in your daze to answer or recognise her voice.

“Yeah, we’re good,” Peter smirked, pushing you to take the rest of his cock, “We’re just going to take longer than expected,”

...

Part two maybe??

Permanent Taglist : @jadegill @joyleenl @sarcastic-sunset-7@wakeupandsmellthelavender @kaithezaftig @theliterarymess @thirstiestpotato @i-love-superhero @lovewolfspirit @lowkey-holland @miltifandoms1019

Peter Parker Taglist : @ietss @itscaminow @dummiesshort @seutarose @cebaratn16 @lanceyfancypants @clara-licht @sadassflatass @usuck @yeah-seems-legit @lolasm0nst3r

Crossed out means i couldn't tag :(

[chanandlersstuff]

The seasons pass and the heartbreak too

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader.

Summary: Life its a funny thing or maybe whats meant to be will find his way back together.

Word count: 1.927

Author’s note: This is the second part from this one and I was thinking that those two deserve some closure, so it will be one more part and that's it. Hope you like it. English is my second language so sorry for the misspellings. The song that inspired this part is "Nineteen" from Dylan, it's really good and some parts of it are on the story.

After leaving Charles at the airport that day, you didn't hear from him anymore until maybe the next year because having almost the same group of friends it was pretty hard not to know about him. One day while you were on a long call with Pierre he told you that he was dating a beautiful girl and that he seemed happy. That instead of breaking your heart completely made you happy because he was happy again. The love you had for him prevented you from being sad about it. Pierre also told you that Charles was having a great season and that also made you happy. Months passed and you didn't hear from him. You were getting better and better at your dream job, becoming more important in the business. The F1 life was little forgotten in your life but always alive in the back of your mind.

Summers, birthdays and seasons passed and Charles was achieving all his F1 goals. One night while having dinner with Pierre in some part of the world talking about life he told him that you were dating some guy and that you were happy. Charles’ fork stopped mid air when he heard the news and to Pierre surprise a smile appeared in his face, a genuine smile. He was happy for you, after all the last time he saw you was nearly three years ago and he didn't hate you, he had incredible affection towards you but that was it. Charles had no love interest in his life anymore but none of that had nothing to do with you.

Sometimes he wondered what were you doing with your life, if you achieved all your dream goals, if you were fine, all that kind of stuff. Even one time he almost dialled your number only to see if you had the same number and if you would answer him but that idea turn into a stupid one the second he almost tuch your contac name. You, on the other hand, while exploring new places or when you saw something that you thought would be fun for him, you couldn’t contain your brain from thinking about him and smiling. His name always on your phone but never used. Happy memories from the time you spend together, while being friends and lovers, no hold grudges.

One day while you were crossing the street, coffee in hand and sunglasses in your eyes, your mind deep down in work, someone shouting your name brought you back to reality and the voice was so familiar. You lowered your sunglasses to see better and when the window car next to you lowered too your heart seems to beat a little slower or everything happens in slow motion. He was there in his matt black Ferrari with the Monaco flag across the car and the 16 on one side. Charles Leclerc in the flesh, shouting your name in the red light of a street. With a smile on your face you walked to the passenger side of the car and you crouched a little to see him better.

-I wasn't entirely sure it was you.- Charles said smiling.

-So you took your chances shouting at me I see.- He nodded and you laughed. -How are you?

-Fine, fine. What about you?- The two of you were smiling like little kids on Christmas night.

-I’m fine too.- Looking at his face you notice that he hasn't changed that much. His face was more mature and his beard from a couple of days the same as you remembered. The honk of other cars brought you back to reality -It was fantastic to see you again but I'm going late to a meeting and those drivers are getting pissed.

He frowned a little and moved his head to see the cars behind him. -Oh. Yes, it was great seeing you again.- He smiled and you smiled back. You straightened and took two steps back. -WAIT.

-¿Yes?- Your voice was sweet.

-You ....eh....we….- You giggle because he was the same nervous Charles you remember when you were little.

-¿Yes Charles?.- He laughed and cleared his throat.

-I was thinking if you could give me your number.- You raised your eyebrows. -To stay in touch I mean, if you want of course.

You smile and from one of the pockets of your bag you pulled out your card. -Gimme a call whenever you want.- Your fingers touch and a familiar, not so forgotten, feeling travels through your bodys. -Bye Charles.

A week later you were walking towards him in whiteh trousers and shoes, a black tank top, sunglasses and hat. The “friendly lunch”, as he said, was in a restaurant in front of the water and the summer in the air made the day perfect. It wasn't a date at all, it was two friends who hadn't seen each other in a while catching up.

With a bottle of water in the middle, because he had to drive and you weren’t going to drink wine alone, the conversation flowed as easy as all those years ago. Laughs that made the stomach hurt and tears appeared in the corner of your eyes while the two of you remembered long time memories and funny histories.

The way he kept switching languages as easy as breathing and the sun that was coming down, illuminated your skin making you glow in his eyes and your smile, gosh it was the brightest smile he'd ever seen. Everything was so easy going and funny, like a picture perfect. As if the two of you have never walked away from your lives, as if you have talked every day for the past few years.

-Do you remember that night when we went to that awful party and we ended up drinking coffee in that spot we used to like so much?- He said when you came down from the laughter.

-It was the same day that your mum almost kill us because we were minor and we stunk at cigarettes?- The scene coming to your brain as it was yesterday and he nodded. -Oh yes, I remember. Some dude spilled his drink in my dress and it had a huge stain on it.

-Yes, that blue dress looked so beautiful on you.- You didn’t remember the color, but apparently Charles did.

-I was a mess Charles.- You tried to argue with him.

-A hot mess.- He said in a low tone hoping, praying that you didn’t hear him but you did and didn't say anything about it trying to not ruin the nice day you were having.

-Do you remember that day you called me late at night to pick you up at that random bar?- You said and he burst into laughter at the memory.

-Oh god yes. I almost came out of that bar crawling and you were there waiting for me in that empty street.- Charles said, scratching his head.

-Were only one streetlight worked properly.- You add in a funny tone.

-You were there with my jacket and two blankets and a worried face.

-Because it was freaking cold, like freezing.- You said laughing and he did too. -I don't remember why you were there and I could bet you don't remember either because you were so drunk that you forgot the reason.

-I remember that the next day I had the worst hangover of my life and I swore that I would never drink that way ever again.- Charles grabbed the glass from the table and drank.

-I remember that you were insufferable the next day, like I couldn't even look your way and you were already whining like a baby.- You said and he laughed.

-And the night you were so stressed about that exam and I told you to run away with me?- You frowned. -That I “kidnapped you” and took you to that little dinner and we stayed there for like 5 hours.- You were smiling but didn't say anything or move an inch. -The dinner that was like from the 70s or 80s, with neon signs and rock music.

You nodded with your head. -Can I be honest with you?- He nodded. -All I saw that night was you and how your eyes seem to change color with the neon lights. He didn't say anything but smiled brightly at you and blushed a little.

If you were honest you remember all too well the things you did together. The little lies to your friends telling you didn't like him when you clearly did, the big fights in those summer days where everything complicated and all the mistakes were made and how he always said “You and I, that’s all the matter. No one else, just you and I” and how he told you “You are the only one I want” when you were agreeing to that strange summer deal.

-Do you remember the day we spent in your granny’s garden looking at the stars in that white old sheet?- You said looking at water.

-Yes, we spent hours talking about our big dreams and desires.- A little silence fell between you two. -I really hope you achieve everything you told me that night.- The fact that he seemed to remember what you told him that night told everything that you needed to know.

-I did, most of them I did. I hope the same for you.

-I achieved some of them and I’m doing others this year.-

But the truth was that both of you made promises and dream things together, thinking that you would stay friends or lovers forever. Always by the other side, cheering their wins and being there when they lost but life wanted other things.

-It seems that we both remember a lot of things from years ago.- You said in a nervous tone trying to cover the inexistent awkward silence.

-Of course I remember. How could I ever forget it.- You tilted your head. -How quickly and hard I fell for you.- His tone was so tender and the smile he was giving you was something from another planet.

-Charles…- You played with the napkin in front of you.

-What? It's true, I was never capable of lying to you and you weren't capable either so tell me what's on your mind.- You stayed in silence for a couple of minutes trying to find sense about them.

-Loving you wasn't a waste. Yes hearts were bruised and mistakes were made but I will do it all the same.- You said and smiled at him.

-I don't.- The look on your face must be a hurt one because he rushed his next words. -Because at the end I lost you, everything we were. Friends, lovers, partners, everything lost for years.

-But we are here now.- You said in a slow tone.

-But for how long?- You opened your mouth to talk but he interrupted you. -A week? Ten days? You are going to get back to your job and I have to get back to race, it's the summer deal all over again. And I do not say this because I want to be your boyfriend again or whatever we have been years ago, I say it because I want my friend back. You know how many times I almost called you to tell you everything that was going on with my life, to tell you that I needed you when shit hit the fan? A thousand times. I do not want you in my life if you are going to be entering or leaving it as if it were a candy store. I want you permanently in it and I want to be in your life in the same way. Be there for you when your work is going well and when you cry from stress like all those years ago but this time physically. I want you here.- At this point he was moving his hands freneticaly and raising his voice a little but the only you could do was looked at him speechless absorving his statement and your stupid heart racing as fast as he drives his car in the weekends.

[lepusrufus]

Double edged scalpel ch. 3

Ch.1   Ch.2

Summary: "it matches your eyes"

----

Cleaning Cassandra’s study became routine. Once a week, her chores were swapped for a two way -for now- trip to the dungeons. Despite every other maid looking at her with utter pity in their eyes, the redhead was not really complaining. She would take Cassandra’s mock autopsies and weird collection of specimens over dusting an ancient opera hall any day. It gave her an odd sense of nostalgia, almost as if she was back with her classmates studying forensic pathology and a friend threatening to throw a severed hand at her. 

She also got to see glimpses of Cassandra. Not that they talked, oh no, the brunette would simply observe her and come up with the occasional task to get a raise out of Nicole and, when it failed to do so, she would grumpily go back to whatever she was doing prior. Her study, however, was an open book. While cleaning the shelves by the desk, Nicole took her time to read the title on each and every worn spine of her books. A lot of them more or less outdated medical books, some relatively modern looking textbooks, even an occasional novel tucked in between its more science oriented siblings. The adjacent wall was full of what looked like hand drawn diagrams, messy notes pinned by tape or even sticky notes. Nicole even noticed a family photo taped to that same wall. It was black and white, with the castle’s courtyard in the background, the three sisters standing in front of their mother.

Cassandra was sitting in her chair, occupying herself with her sickle when all of a sudden she stilled. She pulled out her pocket watch, softly cursed under her breath and pushed herself out of the chair. She was about to exit the room when she probably realized that Nicole was not supposed to be there by herself. 

“Ugh...Follow me. I can’t leave you here alone and I need to get something.”

With the mop abandoned by a wall, Nicole followed the brunette’s hurried steps through the main hallways of the castle, occasionally crossing paths with another staff member. It took no more than five minutes to get to their destination. Bela and Daniela could be heard from inside a room near the castle’s main entrance when Cassandra pushed open its ornate door and stepped inside. Nicole took two steps behind her when a familiar voice called out.

“Ah, Nicole darling! I see you’ve settled in,” Duke said in his usual cheerful tone. 

It did little to stop her stomach from sinking a little when three sets of golden eyes snapped in her direction. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care when he went on. “I hope my favorite clients here are treating you well.” Oh god please shut up. “Lady Cassandra! Your package is also here.” 

She wordlessly took a wrapped box from him and, with a thanks, went out the door. Not wanting to fall behind, Nicole gave Duke a small wave and a smile before turning around to follow. She had to almost jog to keep up with her long strides. Damn you short legs. 

“How on earth do you know him?” Cassandra’s question was accompanied by narrowed eyes.

Was there any point in lying? Lady Dimitrescu already knew so her ever so nice middle daughter could always find out too. 

“He’s the one that brought me here.”

“From the village?”

Nicole rubbed her temples. “From a hotel bar in the nearest big city.” She was beyond done with this conversation. 

Cassandra stopped in her tracks, grabbing the other girl's shoulders when she almost crashed into her. Was that a genuine trace of concern in her eyes?

“You mean you’re not from here? Does mother know?”

Nicole nodded, but before she had time to add anything else, another voice called out for the brunette from behind the pair. It was Bela, the sound of heels on the marble floors echoing around them as she approached. 

“Cassandra, dinner is in two hours.” 

“And?”

“And you said you would take care of the meat. Did you?” 

The blonde scoffed at her sister’s widened eyes, then hooked a finger around the chain connected to Cassandra’s watch and clicked her tongue when she saw the time.

“If you insist on carrying this around at all times, you could at least start making use of it. You have around twenty minutes.” Her voice was icy cold, as opposed to Cassandra’s stammered reply.

“Wait, can you stall the cook for a bit, there’s no way I can do two bodies in twenty minutes!”

“Sorry Cassandra, that’s out of my hands.” And with that, the blonde turned on her heels and left the two of them at the entrance of the dungeons, Cassandra damn near seething.

The two wasted no time in hastily descending the stony dungeon steps, Nicole going back to the study while Cassandra went towards the cells. After no more than two minutes, she came in and haphazardly threw a body on each table. 

The most logical thing to do would be to go about her chores and not risk attracting the brunette's wrath upon herself. But logic was out the window the moment she stepped foot into the Duke's caravan to come to this place. Besides, staying on Cassandra's good side was far better than mopping the floor in hopes she wouldn't snap one day and throw her in one of the moldy cells. 

"Would you like some help with those?" Nicole asked tentatively. 

"Can you help?" Cassandra didn't even look in her direction, only throwing a hand in the air and taking out what looked like freezer safe bags from a cupboard. 

"...Yeah." 

Golden eyes turned to her and the brunette stilled for a second. Skepticism and confusion both obvious on her face at the idea of this small meek maid offering to help out in chopping up a human body. She realized however that the alternative wasn't much better so with a raised eyebrow she put a scalpel and a pair of gloves on the table closest to Nicole. 

"Suit yourself. And don't make a mess." Oh you're to talk. 

Now, admittedly, performing an autopsy wasn't exactly the same as straight up butchering a human body for consumption. How different would it be though? The organs just needed to be separated and the limbs cut. She tried not to look at the face while making the first incision. 

---

It took 17 minutes for both of them to finish. All the bits and pieces were separated and secured in bags just in time for a knock on the door. Cassandra threw her gloves in the sink and went to open it, letting an older woman only vaguely familiar to Nicole inside. 

"Lady Cassandra, I didn't know you had help," she raised an eyebrow at the redhead awkwardly standing by the table she had worked at, scalpel still in hand. 

Cassandra only grimaced and with mock cheerfulness in her voice said, "Surprise." 

The older woman, presumably the cook, motioned for the maids that came with her to take the bags and, with a slight bow of the head to Cassandra, they were gone, only the bloody mess on the tables left behind. The brunette let a sigh escape past her lips and turned to Nicole. Her yellow gaze examined the now bloody uniform for a moment. 

"A shame this got dirty," she said, approaching the redhead. 

Tiredness and holding her tongue never mixed well within Nicole, so at the obviously fake apologetic tone she allowed an edge of snark into her reply. 

"Oh don't worry, the maids are all quite good at washing out blood stains. It's part of the job requirements." 

Cassandra just chuckled and rolled her eyes at the sass. 

"Just ask the head chambermaid for a replacement. This is seriously ruined," she said toying with the hem of Nicole's white blouse, now soaked in crimson. "Your face however, we can still salvage that." 

Nicole furrowed her brows and brought a hand to her cheek, cursing herself under her breath upon realizing that she was still wearing the bloody gloves and had just smeared even more on her face. She took them off and threw them on a cleaner spot on the table to be retrieved later. Meanwhile, the brunette moved to the sink and returned shortly with a damp handkerchief. 

She grabbed Nicole's chin between two slender fingers and tilted her head upward. Nicole could feel the metal of the table's edge against her lower back when she instinctively tried taking a step back. She had no way of escaping. Not that escaping even as much as grazed the surface of her mind when she locked eyes with Cassandra, an uncharacteristic sort of softness in her gaze. She took her sweet time passing the damp fabric over the blood stained skin. Then, after she seemed content with her handywork, she dragged her fingers over Nicole's cheek in a caress that sent a small shiver down the redhead's spine. 

"There. Good as new," the brunette hummed. 

It was a complete lie and they both knew it. The blush now present on Nicole's cheeks was probably just as bad as the crimson stains she was sporting mere moments ago, she was quite sure of that. By some mercy of the crow woman these people worshipped though, Cassandra didn't acknowledge it and simply moved back to her desk, leaving Nicole frozen in place.

After a few seconds of silence, Cassandra chuckled and, without turning from whatever she was scribbling in a notebook, said:

"Those tables won't clean themselves darling." 

Oh shut the fuck up. 

---

Most staff members preferred to spend their free time in the gardens, be it the inner courtyard or the fenced in garden at the back of the estate. Nicole was no exception to that. When she had time, she liked to grab a hot cup of tea and sit down in this small nook of the garden where a small, almost knee high bench was overshadowed by large rose bushes. Nobody else seemed to come there if the old cracked wood of the small seat was anything to go by, except maybe the gardener for occasional maintenance but she was nowhere to be seen most times. 

The quiet was interrupted by a distant set of heavy steps. Steps that Nicole ignored. She wasn't in any off limits area and this was her day off. She wasn't doing anything wrong and, therefore, had no reason to believe whoever was walking around was there for her. Until the steps became louder and the sound of heels clear on the stony path. 

"There you are," Cassandra's voice almost made Nicole spit out the tea she was currently drinking. 

The brunette laughed at that, in an oddly good mood and stopped to stand in front of the redhead. Cassandra's "good mood" made Nicole highly suspicious given past experience. She set her cup down and, with a cough to clear out her offended airways, stood and addressed the brunette. 

"To what do I owe the pleasure, my lady?" Aside from having my one free day interrupted. Again.

She saw Cassandra pout for a brief moment but it was quickly replaced by her ever so characteristic smirk. A smirk that Nicole would never admit was awfully attractive paired with the sharp features of her face. At least not out loud. 

"I have wonderful news for you," she said, tilting Nicole's head up with a hand, thumb distractingly close to her lips. "Cynthia, our cook, said she really appreciated the way you sectioned that body last week. So mother decided to give you a ...promotion so to speak." 

Nicole had yet to decide whether this was indeed wonderful news or not, but the part of her brain that was seeking some kind of thrill made that decision for her when Cassandra leaned in close to her ear, lips tantalizingly close to the skin. 

"Congratulations, from now on you're only working with me in the dungeons." 

Cassandra didn't want to kill her did she? She did say that Nicole was intriguing to her and therefore the redhead was somewhat safe from ending up on one of the autopsy tables herself. At least that's what she told that part of her mind still somewhat concerned about self preservation that was screaming at how risky her next move was. 

She gingerly placed her hands on the brunette's hips, tilting her head in a way not unlike Cassandra did mere moments ago. 

"Does that mean I get to teach you proper autopsy technique?" 

Thankfully that got a chuckle out of her, moving back just enough to be able to look into Nicole's green eyes. "Assuming you manage to keep your tongue long enough." 

She couldn't do much more than let out a soft laugh at the absurdity of her situation. There she was, in the garden of a castle in the middle of nowhere with the Lady's sadistic daughter mere inches from her. She decided that at that point in her life if she was going to die, she may as well go out in style, and what on earth could top falling for one of the most dangerous women in a village full of horrors. She shifted her hand slightly, bumping into the handle of the sickle strapped to Cassandra's waist. 

"May I?" She said barely above a whisper, fingers wrapping loosely around the weapon. 

Cassandra gave her an incredulous look, trying to understand what on earth she could want with the weapon. She was aware she couldn't hurt her right?

A small shrug was all the permission Nicole needed. She undid the leather strap that kept the sickle in place and moved back only a bit. Enough to step on the small bench and lift herself. She felt Cassandra's hands placed on her waist for support, almost mimicking the gentleness of Nicole's touch from earlier, when she raised herself on her tiptoes. She took hold of one of the roses above them -a yellow one- and with a quick swipe she cut the stem. The brunette watched her take her sweet time scraping off any thorns before her hood was taken off and that same rose was now placed in her dark wavy hair, right above her left ear. 

"Mm… it matches your eyes. And necklace," Nicole added, bending down to return the sickle to its rightful place. 

Cassandra crashed their lips the next second, her hands pulling Nicole closer from where they were placed on her hips. After a second of shocked stillness, the kiss was returned, their lips tentatively sliding against each other. "Tentatively" didn't last long however, as Cassandra pushed forward, pressing the her against the stone wall behind them eliciting a small moan from Nicole, who's hand ended up tangled in black locks. She tugged on them slightly once she finally needed to breathe and Cassandra pulled back only a bit. She let their foreheads rest against each other and felt Nicole's soft laugh on her lips. 

"Do you even need to breathe?"

"No," the brunette answered simply. 

Nicole blinked in confusion, not expecting her half joke to turn out truthful but before she could speak, Cassandra took a hand off her waist and pulled something out of a pocket. 

"Here," she pushed a familiar looking object into the redhead's hands. 

"Y...Your key to the dungeons?" She was still trying to get her thoughts organized into some sort of coherence when Cassandra rolled her eyes. 

"It's a copy. So I don't have to escort you every time you come down there, which," she added with a gloved finger brushing against her lower lip, "is gonna be more frequent now." 

Nicole nodded, not really trusting her words. She didn't need any though, as Cassandra simply pushed herself off the wall and turned on her heels to leave. 

"See you tomorrow at dawn." 

And with a smirk, she broke into a swarm of flies and disappeared down the stony path.

[seijorhi]

Thirty Seven Seconds

Soulmate AU commission for @pokemonfreak666, hope you like it, bby!

Bakugou Katsuki x Female Reader, Kirishima Eijiro x Female Reader

TW non-con, minor character death, nsfw

Part II

It’s funny how easily the things you think are important get pushed aside and forgotten when everything goes to shit.

For over twenty years you’ve watched the timers on your wrists slowly tick down, day by day, hour by hour, second by second. Separated only by a fraction of a second, counting down to the exact moment you’d meet your soulmates. And for as long as you can remember, those two timers have meant everything to you.

Twenty-four hours out, and you could barely focus, buzzing with nervous anticipation.

Twelve hours. Six. An hour and forty five. Down the timers tick.

Nine minutes.

Five and a half.

Two. 

It’s hard to describe the almost dizzying excitement you felt walking down the street, your arm looped with your friend’s. Giddy and grinning like a fool, it’d felt like nothing in the world could possibly touch you - you were moments away from meeting the ones - your soulmates, your happily ever after. 

And even though the timers never lied, you couldn’t help but keep your eyes peeled, desperately searching for an early glimpse of them while your friend (two months away from meeting her own) just rolled her eyes and laughed good-naturedly. 

Thirty seven seconds out, and the ground shook as an explosion ripped through the sky.

Funnily enough, you don’t remember too much after that. Just a wave of searing heat, an aftershock that knocks you clean off your feet and the sound of your best friend screaming.

There’s a hard body colliding with yours, the smell of burnt sugar and musk choking the air around you-

“Oi, shitty hair, get the other one!”

And then there’s nothing.

—

You wake up in the hospital hours later and a nurse with a sombre face tells you that your friend didn’t make it, and for the first time in years your soulmates are the furthest thing from your mind.

It was a villain attack, some no-name wannabe trying to make a reputation for himself. It doesn’t really matter, you don’t really care. 

It’s all white noise.

She tells you that you have visitors if you’re feeling up to it - the two Pro Heroes who rescued you stuck around to come see if you were okay, but you just shake your head. 

It’s not their fault, you know that, but the timers stopped ticking and your best friend died and you’re honestly not sure whether you’ll ever be able to reconcile those two things in your head. 

You spend just under a week in hospital, and every day they come to see you.

They never make it past the nurses station.

—

Two days after you’re discharged, there’s a rough pounding at your front door. 

You know, even before you glance through the peephole that it’s them. And even with your hand resting on the doorknob, your heart hammering away inside of your chest, there’s a part of you that wants to walk away, to shut them out entirely until they get the message that you’re not interested.

But it’s not their fault, you remind yourself, and you can’t be cruel.

Tentatively, you twist the knob and let the door swing open just a touch, catching on the chain deadbolt. 

The sight of the two towering Pro Heroes - Dynamight and Red Riot, unmistakable even out of their Hero costumes - standing out in the hall would be enough to set anybody on edge, but it’s the way their gazes snap towards you, red eyes zeroing in like you’ve caught them in the middle of a conversation that makes your heart squeeze uncomfortably.

They know. They have to. 

“H-hello?”

The blond’s still scowling, but the redhead (Kirishima, a voice inside your head supplies. He was your friend’s favourite, wasn’t he?) grins brightly at you.

“Hey babe! Y’know, you’re one tough chick to get ahold of,” he laughs, and your eyes flicker to Bakugou’s just in time to see the muscle in his jaw twitch. “Mind if we come in, sweetheart?”

Your stomach twists at the casual endearment, even more so when you catch sight of the pink and red flowers in his hand.

The polite thing to do would be to say yes; soulmates or not they did technically save your life and they deserve that much at least, but you just- 

You can’t. 

Not when you buried your friend yesterday. You need time. You need space. You’re just not in the right place and now… you’re not sure if you ever will be.

Swallowing tightly, you nibble on your bottom lip, “Um… look, I-I’m really sorry, but-”

“Nah, fuck this shit,” Bakugou snaps. “Move,” and you have all of a split second to process the command before his foot’s on the door and it’s splintering inwards, ripping the deadbolt clean off.

A shriek tears its way free as you flinch in on yourself, and vaguely you register Kirishima loudly chastising him, but you can’t focus on that when the blond’s hand is on your arm, fingers digging in, dragging you unceremoniously inside.

“Shut up, Kiri. ‘m not gonna let her push us away because she’s too fuckin’ stubborn for her own good.”

And then those red, glaring eyes are fixed on you, and it feels like you’re a little rabbit, caught in the maw of a hungry wolf. “What are you- stop!” you cry as he painfully yanks you forward again, this time in the direction of your open bedroom. 

But Bakugou doesn’t listen, doesn’t even pause, and despite his earlier protests, neither does Kirishima.

It’s too fast, too sudden- 

Your heart is pounding, fear gripping at your throat, squeezing. You don’t understand what’s happened, why they’ve forced their way inside your home, why they’re hurting you.

“Wait, please! I-I don’t-”

“You don't what, princess?! You’re our soulmate, aren’t you?” he snarls, and you can only sob. “Then just…” he breaks off with a frustrated huff, “just shut up and enjoy this.”

Against two Pro Heroes, you never stood a chance. 

It’s all too easy for Kiri to manhandle you back onto the bed, impossibly strong arms encircling your torso, drawing you back to prop you up against his chest while Bakugou busies himself with your lower half. Clothes are ripped off of you, greedy hands palming at exposed flesh, and you choke on another sob as heated red eyes gaze up at you from between your forcibly spread thighs.

The first lick of his tongue against your sex has you keening, writhing against the redhead’s grip. It’s useless - Kiri has no intentions of letting you go anywhere, and Bakugou only growls, fingers tightening on the meat of your thighs as he pushes his tongue further between your folds.

He eats you out like a man starved - sucking and slurping gracelessly at your cunt, messily, with no rhythm or technique, fucking his tongue into you while you shake and tearfully beg for him to stop. Yet you can’t fight the shameful warmth that burns at your cheeks, the way your toes curl and your breath stutters when he decides to add two fingers into the mix.

“Please,” you sniffle, choking back another moan as his tongue wraps around your clit and he suckles the swollen bud, but neither one of your soulmates pays the cry any heed.

You can feel Kiri’s own hardening cock nudging at your lower back as he plays with your tits, cooing at you and laughing when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger just as Bakugou’s fingers hit that sensitive bundle of nerves and you scream, shaking and trembling in his grip.

“Yeah, you like that baby? You like Bakugou eating your pussy out?” His lips trail along the curve of your neck, sucking hot, wet, open mouthed kisses against the tender flesh while he ruts his hips against you. “Don’t go all shy on us now, wanna hear how good we’re making our pretty girl feel.” 

And while his fingers relentlessly pump into your dripping cunt, Bakugou pulls back, lower jaw shining and wet with your juices, and grins, “Course she fuckin’ likes it. Little slut’s practically clamping down on my tongue with how badly she wants to cum.” His smirk deepens, something dark and feral burning in those crimson depths as his tongue darts out to lick at his lips, “But we’re just getting started, aren’t we princess? Gonna fuck you till you’re a drooling fucking mess, begging for your soulmates’ cocks, and you’re gonna love every damned second of it.”

Trapped between the two of them - your soulmates, the two people on earth who’re supposed to love you, protect you - you can only sob.

[lavendermin]

when it storms | kazuha

pairing | kazuha x reader

word count | 1.9k

genre | light angst, soft, first encounters

The skies had been cast over with rolling clouds of dark grey. Where the sun and moon used to glow so reverently, there now only fell a heavy rain in their wake.

It was fortunate for the land, your father had commented after a few days of downpour. The rain season was hardly this generous in recent years, and with the nation currently closed off there was an uneven flow of imports due to adjustment. More paperwork, longer shipment times. The people would have to endure less patron flow as the rain kept most indoors, but harvests and plenty of crystal clear lakes would be a sight to behold in the coming months.

This is good, you convinced yourself. Perhaps the dry storm seasons won’t be as many.

The streets outside slowly became less and less active with the usual flow of people. You stand against the door frame of your family’s restaurant, watching the never-ending sea of grey clouds above. The rain is cold against your skin as you stick out a hand curiously. It feels refreshing, pleasant.

“We’re closing up a little early today since the rain is starting back up again. Bring in the sign that’s outside. It would be a shame if it got blown away by tonight’s storm,” your father said as he wiped down the counters and put away clean bowls.

With a nod you happily went outside, umbrella in hand. The rain pattered quietly and rolled off the sides of its protective roof, surrounding you with a soothing atmosphere. The day had dwindled to a lethargic close, and with a languid fondness you watched the last few shopkeepers huddle back into their shops and homes.

The streets emptied out within minutes leaving muddy streets behind. The smell of wet earth hung in the air nostalgically.

Maybe it was fate, that double-take you took. With one last gaze out across the rainy-soaked street, you noticed them. The figure was so still—statuesque— that you wouldn’t have noticed them through the rainy mist if it hadn’t been for the bright crimson of their clothing that stood out.

Had they nowhere to go? Or were they someone who enjoyed standing in the rain? Better yet… How long had they been standing there in the pouring rain?

The question made your heart sink just thinking about it.

From within the building, your father’s voice called out with amusement. “Y/n, come in quick or you’ll get soaked. I don’t want you getting chilled and falling ill because you wanted to watch the rain.”

There was a squeeze of your chest when you turned back to the rain—a pang of guilt that gripped onto your mind. Rain fell relentlessly hard as it picked up, and it filled your mind with concern for that stranger in the rain.

Your body only partially turned toward the door, a quick hesitation stopping you in your tracks as you took one last look over your shoulder. That person… would probably get sick at this rate. Something in the way they stood rigidly against the elements held no joy for the downpour. No childlike amusement like the one you held for rainy days.

“I’ll be right in,” you reassure. “I forgot I left something outside.”

Peering your head quickly through the door frame, you see your father wave you off with a patient smile.

“Be quick.”

With a nod, you wait until you see him disappear up the stairs to the second floor to turn in for the night. You are quick on your feet making your way down the street of shops and houses. The patter of your boots on the rapidly-forming puddles pushed your aching legs forward, umbrella tightly gripped in hand.

The stranger was still unmoving as you approached, steps sounding out with the splash of water with each step. You were sure he heard you, yet he did not turn to meet you as you drew near.

“You’ll get sick if you stay out here in the rain, stranger,” you lightheartedly commented as you stopped next to him, holding your umbrella over him just enough to still partially shield you from the rain.

His eyes remained on the grey sky above, only now torn away slowly from the trance. There was a sorrowful haze that gripped those misty, crimson eyes.

“Do you think the rain is beautiful?” he asked.

This sudden question took you by surprise. The way he looked out at the sea of clouds held anything but sympathy for the grey skies that rained mercilessly.

You blinked, not knowing how to respond to this mysterious stranger. Unexpectedly, though, you felt at ease in his presence.

“I think the feeling of it is beautiful,” you responded, looking at the sky with him.

He hums at this answer, seemingly contemplating it. The answer comes from someone who spends their life indoors, and he understands it. Somehow, these small differences in experiences from person to person brings a little comfort to him. To know that not everyone’s simplicities of life are plagued by grief soothes his soul.

Brief silence overtakes you both as you stand in the downpour.

“Do you not like the rain?” you quietly ask after a while. There’s a worried crease in your brows as you look at him, and he cannot help but feel like he gravitates toward your warmth.

Only the harsh patter of the rain on your umbrella and flooding of the streets fills the silence for a beat as he remains in his thoughts.

“It’s been a while since I heard that question directed at myself,” he chuckles. The small smile that graces his features doesn’t reach his eyes, but answers fondly all the same. “When I was younger, I loved the rain.”

There’s weight in the words as he speaks them. You choose not to pry into the emotional scars tied to his answer.

“Are you travelling?” you ask, changing the subject.

He gives you a smile, and you notice how his snow-white hair clings to his face from the rain. It leaves a pleasantly warm feeling in your chest—how gentle he looks.

“Something like that.” Though his answers are vague, you aren’t one to pry—not when his eyes hold a distant sorrow in them. “It’s best to head inside. You could get sick out in the rain.”

“Come indoors with me, then,” you offer simply. With a warm smile you add, “If you’d like.”

He blinks at you, watches as you hover the umbrella closer over him. The rain is soaking most of you by now, and your smile is radiant— innocent in it’s bright sincerity as you offer him a roof over his head.

It makes this kind gesture all the more difficult to refuse.

“Kazuha,” is all he responds with, a thankful smile softening the gloom that surrounds him as you both hurry back down the muddy street. You introduce yourself just as briefly and lighthearted.

With a motion to the bar counter, you tap your hand on its surface to offer him a seat while you close up the shop and disappear into the kitchen. Kazuha wordlessly takes a seat, the warmth of the restaurant enveloping him pleasantly. His hands grip the towel that now rests around his shoulders a little tighter.

Within minutes, there’s a steaming bowl of noodles placed in front of him. “You’re too kind. I couldn’t possibly—“

You wave him off, plopping down on the seat next to him. “If the food is available, why not share a meal?” you interject simply, settling down next to him to begin eating your own noodle dish. “It’s hard to cook small portions when you’re only ever used to making large amounts for hungry customers. So, please, help yourself.”

“Thank you.” And Kazuha means it. “I’ll take my leave once I’ve finished.”

The look you give him is a little incredulous.

“In this rain? It’s an awfully harsh storm we’re expecting tonight.” You set down your chopsticks, looking at him fully with wide, concerned eyes. “You’re free to stay in the guest room until the storm passes. I would feel terribly guilty to leave you out in the rain.”

It’s silent, and you’ve both left your food untouched as Kazuha becomes a little tense. There’s something weighing on his mind with how he avoids your gaze, hands anxiously clenching and unclenching in his lap.

He reaches into his pocket, clutching something in his palm shielded from your view.

Now you’re curious.

His voice lowers, soft and cautious. “I don’t want to put you in danger with my presence.”

The smooth metal of the vision’s frame clangs quietly as Kazuha places it on the table, sliding it towards you.

“I’m a wanted man.”

There’s no response from you for a brief moment. Visions are rare to see nowadays, and even more dangerous to have. Your fingertips smooth over its surface momentarily, eyes sparkling with intrigue and wonder.

“The vision… Why is it missing?” you wonder silently.

Kazuha looks down. “That’s—“

“You don’t have to explain anything. This doesn’t make you a bad person,” you quickly defend. It takes him aback, caught off by the sudden emotion that makes your eyes twinkle. “Stay.”

“It would put you in da—“

“I don’t care. Your life is important. I’ll help you.” There’s a fire in your eyes as you hold his gaze, face serious. Your expression softens as you place the blank vision back in his palm with a reassuring gentleness. “I won’t lose another person to them.”

There are details that both of you do not know, information left out of each other’s backgrounds and circumstances. But one thing reigned true—there was goodness in his heart, and in yours, too. Perhaps this is what convinced him to accept your generosity.

He’s smiling, gentle upon his expression as he picks up his chopsticks once more.

“You aren’t the first to put your life on the line for me,” he adds quietly. The atmosphere has relaxed once more as you both continue eating through idle conversation in the dim restaurant lighting.

You hum, mouth full of food. “And I’m sure I won’t be the last. But,” you bite your thumb, pondering. “I’m sure you’ve been running for a while.”

With a quiet sigh, he answers, “Longer than I thought I would last, if I’m being honest.”

There’s a glint in your eye, and you’re deep in your own onslaught of thoughts. There’s an underlying anxiousness that falls upon your shoulders. Kazuha wishes he could read you better.

For the remainder of the quick meal, you hold your tongue but he can see the gears turning in your head. The bowls are emptied, hunger satisfied, and you show him to the guest room through hushed voices.

“Kazuha,” you call quietly before leaving the room you prepared for him. Your voice lowers further, barely above a whisper and you make it a point to sidle closer to him. “If you had the chance to escape Inazuma… would you?”

His eyes go a little wide for a moment. “You couldn’t mean…”

“I have a plan.”

And in that moment, he gazes at you with reverence and trust. His heart would be safe in the palm of your hand. You wait for his approval to continue with the idea. The smile he flashes you is contagious, and you are a beacon of hope in this tumultuous uncertainty.

He sits on the sleeping mat you've prepared, patting the spot next to him where he plopped down. “Let's hear it, then.”

In the late hours of the night, two hushed voices debate their best chance of escape.

“I have a close acquaintance, captain of her own fleet from Liyue.”

[bunnykawa]

what are you doing, step bro? (sakusa x f. reader)

summary: To your parents, Sakusa was the greatest son. To you, he was the best big brother you could’ve ever asked for, but you could only find that out with a little force.

a/n: i literally just started college so i won't have much time to write but i have some stories in my drafts that'll be posted in awhile lol. should i open requests for haikyuu drabbles since they're short but still entertaining?? idek i feel like no one is reading this rn LOL but if anyone is reading this, lmk ;)

(edit: I HAD TO REPOST THIS CS IT WASNT SHOWING UP IN TAGS so sorry if you already liked this post)

warnings: 18+, incest, mentions of drugging,  mentions of somnophilia, mentions of parental neglect, noncon/dubcon/rape, sakusa is a dirty pervert i just don’t know how else to tag this, degradation, slight manipulation

"(Y/N), this is your new big brother, Kiyoomi," your mother said, holding tightly onto your small shoulders as you stood in front of her.

"You can refer to him as your nii-san from now on." Locking eyes with you was an older boy with long black wavy hair, two moles on the right side of his forehead, and a white face mask on the lower half of his face which blocked his nose and mouth. How odd, you thought. You could tell he was disinterested with how his eyes were blank as he stared at you.

That was the first time meeting your step brother, Sakusa Kiyoomi.

Being four years younger than Sakusa, you two never really got along. Of course you had to respect each other, but there was nothing to really talk about other than when his volleyball games were or unfulfilling small talks. Sometimes he would make snide remarks, asking if you even showered when your hair was only slightly messy or if a smart word ever came out of your mouth when you stumbled over your words. Sometimes he was just mean to you in general to the point where you would cry. You always tried to ignore it, though. That was when you were younger. You couldn’t help that you weren’t that smart and he was your nii-san after all. Your parents would brush it off.

You celebrated his victories together, only because you had to. I mean, you were the younger sister of one of the nation's top three aces in high school volleyball. There was no way your parents wouldn't celebrate. He was their pride and joy.

Smart, athletic, incredibly attractive — everything you felt like you could never live up to.

Your own biological mom so obviously and painfully liked him more than you.

Before you even entered high school, Sakusa was old enough to move out and go to college where he continued to play volleyball. When he visited during the holidays, you still wouldn't have decent conversations with him. He would still insult you. It even made you cringe when you had to call him nii-san. Why address him as your older brother when he didn't even act like it?

But you dealt with it because you had to.

Fresh out of Itachiyama Academy, you're focused on studying for entrance exams for colleges in your area rather than what would happen if you ever had to see Sakusa again. But, you were expecting to see him very soon.

Gentle knocks are heard from outside your door and before you can respond, your mom is already opening it.

"(Y/N), Omi is coming today and he's gonna be here for a week. I have to go to the grocery store to buy food and I'm gonna run other errands so it's gonna take awhile," she says, leaning her head into your room. You respond multiple times with "okay" so she can leave your room sooner.

Textbooks and notebooks are strewn across your bed with you on your stomach, trying to cram as much information in your head as possible.

"That means I might not be here in time for when he comes, so you have to open the door and greet him," she adds.

"What about dad?" you ask with a grimace. The most you would do is say hello and scurry back into your room.

She rolls her eyes at you. "He's working late again. You know that, (Y/N)." With a sigh, you agree and she finally leaves your room after bidding you a "goodbye."

You can't remember the last time you saw Sakusa, but it was probably almost half a year ago. Ever since he left for college, your parents were even more distant towards you. They probably felt like they didn't need to worry about you because you weren't doing anything important.

When Sakusa came over, he barely acknowledged you and you were okay with that because it meant he wouldn't be bothering you.

But that didn't mean his blank stare wouldn't catch your attention whenever you came out of your room to eat or use the restroom. The atmosphere felt...very odd around him. You couldn't necessarily come up with a reason why.

Suddenly, you hear knocking on the front door. It had to be at least an hour or two since your mom left and the thought of who was waiting at the door made your stomach churn.

"Nii-san is here," you mutter to yourself as you got up to open the door. Right as you open the door, Sakusa was staring down at you with the same blankness in his eyes from before with his usual face mask. His hair was shorter than you remember.

Mindlessly, his eyes seem to scan your body before returning to your face, making you feel self-conscious. You were only wearing black spandex shorts and a loose tank top. Subconsciously, you rub your arm and step back to make space.

"(Y/N)," Sakusa acknowledges you in a deadpan voice. It's no surprise to you.

"Hi, onii-san. How are you?" You try so hard to be polite, but Sakusa seemed to have a naturally dominant energy that overwhelmed your senses, even if he also seemed to have the personality of a jar of mayonnaise. You step aside so he can come in. He wore gray sweatpants and a black windbreaker that was zipped up all the way. As soon as he makes it inside, he removes his face mask, stuffs it in his pocket, and starts unzipping his jacket.

"I'm good," he hums, "Where's mom?" He places the backpack he was carrying on the couch and takes a seat as you close the door.

"She's out doing errands and dad is working. Do you want some tea?"

"Yes, please. Make sure you wash your hands before you do. Thank you," he said. You walk into the kitchen, muttering "germaphobe" under your breath at his extra request. Unbeknownst to you, he watched you from his place on the couch as you walked around the kitchen, pulling the tea kettle out of one of the bottom cabinets and looking for cups. His gaze followed the outline of your ass in those tiny shorts that hugged your bottom tightly.

"What college are you planning on going to, (Y/N)?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I'm applying to the college you're going to and three others," you replied from your spot near the counter.

Sakusa actually perks up at your answer. "Oh, cool. You'll love it there if you get in. Only if, though. You're not the brightest."

You couldn't help but let your face fall in a frown at his seemingly small comment. Quickly, you compose yourself and brush off his remark. You got the water boiling in the tea kettle and reached high for the teacups that were sitting on the top cabinets. Your stepdad definitely put them up there.

A presence looms close behind you, which makes your whole body automatically freeze and tense up. A veiny, bulky arm reaches up easily to grab the teacups while another one snakes around you to pull your tank top down as it was exposing your stomach. You're not sure if you're imagining it, but you definitely feel something stiff brushing up against your back.

"You need to be careful. Don't wanna hurt yourself, do you?" Sakusa commented, leaning forward so his mouth was right next to your ear. A blush found its way onto your cheeks from feeling him so close to you.

He usually hated being so close to people. What was so different today?

"R-right," you stuttered, "Thank you, nii-san."

Confrontation wasn't a strong trait of yours.

You guess that moment was when it started getting really weird between you two. You still had small talks from whenever he would actually see you come out of your room, but you wanted to avoid him as much as you could. However, that was hard when Sakusa insisted that you drank tea together every night and, of course, your parents insisted, too.

Your nii-san wants to spend more time with you, they would say excitedly. Better late than never!

Maybe if he was showing the slightest bit of interest in you, your parents would finally care about you. So, with much hesitation, you started drinking tea with your step brother every night. Sakusa even made the tea himself so his poor little sister wouldn't tire herself out with carrying that heavy teapot.

You're still not sure if you're imagining things, but the tea tasted different from how you made it. And you swear that the tea didn't make you so sleepy after drinking it until he started making it.

"Come here," Sakusa would say with a smirk, "Onii-san will take you to bed."

You would pass out before you even made it to bed, but every morning you woke up with sticky thighs, only blaming it on sweating while you were sleeping.

Until one day, you didn't drink all the tea that he made you. You still fell asleep, though. Your brain was hazy enough to make you lose consciousness as he helped you up from your seat in the kitchen.

Sakusa laid next to you on your bed. You were placed on your side so he could slide under the sheets right behind you to press his hardened length against your ass. This was his favorite part of the night. He spent a few minutes playing with your cunt to make it slick enough for him to let his cock break through your walls.

You barely stirred awake. Didn't even move an inch as he caressed every part of your body, from your soft nipples to the sensitive nub between your thighs.

He pushed the elastic of his sweatpants down to his thighs quickly. His cock hit your ass before settling between your folds. A satisfied moan leaves his lips when he feels your wetness coating the top part of his shaft as he rubbed it against you. He hooked his arm around one of your legs so that you were spread open enough for him to fuck you and rub your clit at the same time with his other hand.

He wanted that sweet nectar completely coating his dick. He remembers the way you tasted and how you came on his tongue the night before, despite being blacked out from the little pills he would dissolve in your drinks. You tasted so clean and smelled so fresh. It was impossible for your nii-san to control himself around you.

And when did your ass look so good? God...Sakusa couldn't believe he never noticed how cute and well-shaped you were. You weren't that little girl he met when you were both kids. You were pushing adulthood now. Still pathetic looking, still too shy, still small around him, but fuck, he definitely would have pushed you over the counter the first day he came over and fucked you until you were crying and gagging.

He continued rubbing circles onto your clit and letting his cock soak up your juices. Gently, he positions the tip at your entrances and pushes in slowly.

"There you go," he whispers in your ear, "I know it's a little big. Don't worry."

He manages to fill you up all the way, making him groan. Your walls were tight around him. He thrusts in and out of you carefully, salvaging the feeling of your slick interior.

But you didn't drink all the tea, which means that you could wake up earlier than he expected.

Sakusa didn't expect you to wake up now.

You stirred slightly as you regained consciousness. Although your eyelids were heavy, you tried to force them open only to be met with darkness.

"Mmm," you croaked, rubbing your eyes. The odd feeling of being filled up suddenly made you wake up more. "W-what's going on?"

"Fuck," Sakusa muttered from behind you. You felt a hard chest pressed against your back and...a hand on your pussy. No, something inside your pussy. And that voice was so familiar.

You quickly whip your head around when the realization dawns on you. What the fuck is happening? While your eyes adjust to the dark room, you see two familiar eyes staring straight back at you. He stopped grinding his hips against you for a moment as if time stopped.

"...Nii-san?" you hesitated. His breathing was heavy and he stayed silent.

"Nii-san, what are you doing?" you asked in a panicked voice. You quickly tried to get up from your position, only to be held down by Sakusa’s muscular arms. His hand wrapped itself over your lips to prevent you from screaming.

“Be a good girl and stay quiet, (Y/N),” he whispered. A muffled scream tries to escape your lips. He continued to fuck you slowly, leaving a burning feeling in your walls. The same sore feeling that you would sometimes wake up to within the past few days.

For a moment, you pry his fingers off of your mouth. "I don't understand...Why are you...?" You yelped in surprise, horror, and pleasure as he delivered a sharp thrust from behind you. The smack of his hips against your bare ass made you cringe and feel so disgusted with yourself. Nii-san is actually inside me.

"My poor little sister," he chucked darkly. He suddenly wraps his arm around your knee tighter and forces your legs wide open, your knee almost touching your chest. Instead of putting his hand over your mouth to shut you up, he kneads your breast. His hands were so large.

"You think you can walk around the house looking like a little slut in those tiny shorts?" He stretches you open with his hard cock with slow, yet hard, thrusts. It left your mouth agape, but no sounds left your throat except for small squeaks that you couldn't hold back. "You stupid bitch. Just as dumb as I could remember. Fuck, you don't know how much I wanted to bend you over and fill you up with my cum like the stupid, desperate slut you are."

He was satisfied as you were barely fighting him. All you did was desperately search for something to hold onto and bite your lip because you were so scared. His words were painful. "Look at you. A waste of fucking space, only good as a fuck hole. Didn't even realize she was getting drugged and getting fucked every night because she's so fucking stupid."

Weak. That was all your brain was telling you, mocking you, as Sakusa didn't stop moving against you and insulting you. This wasn't the first time. It just so happened that this time you were able to wake up.

"I-I..." you stuttered, "I'll...I'll tell mom and dad." The sheets were gripped tightly between your fingers. "I'll tell them- mmmm...what nii-san has been doing to me..."

"If you tell mom and dad, they wouldn't even care," Sakusa said in a patronizing tone. The way his hand was caressing you made you wanna cry.

“They would!”

"Mom and dad don't even treat you like a daughter, (Y/N). When was the last time they told you they loved you?" Even if his question was rhetorical, your mind went completely blank. You can't recall a moment where they ever told you they loved you.

"B-but, this isn't right! You're not supposed to be doing this," you argued. It was a surprise that your mind wasn't completely clouded by how big his cock was and how his thrusts felt almost hateful.

"You think they would choose your side? You'd be ruining your own life. Maybe you'd ruin mine. And it'd be. All. Your. Fault." With each syllable, his movements became sharper. "You don't wanna betray your nii-san by saying something, do you?"

"You love your nii-san, right?"

You do. You love him so much, even if you tried to avoid him and he never said a single good thing to you in your whole damn life.

Because you have to love him.

You stopped gripping on the sheets to the point where your knuckles were turning ghostly white to brush away the tears rolling down your cheeks. Your body shook, from both crying because of Sakusa's painful words and how hard he was fucking you. The pleasure building up in your core was overwhelming you, making that intense feeling of having to pee forced out of you.

Hearing your sniffles and small cries, Sakusa pulls you even tighter against him, but doesn't stop his relentless thrusting. It turned him on even more. He pushes your hand to brush away your tears for you, like good big brothers should.

"It's okay, (Y/N). We both know mom and dad don't love you."

A loud cry erupted from your chest. Maybe if your parents cared about you, they'd be running to your room to save you the second you started crying. But, no. Sakusa was basking in the fact that you were hurting on the inside. After years of negligent silence, you were finally letting it all out.

"But nii-san loves you," he said with a smile.

Although his words seemed to stun your entire being, you manage to choke out a "What?" Like it was the first time someone ever told you that they love you.

His torturous thrusts almost distracted you. Fuck, why did it feel so good to have your step brother fucking you on your side like this?

"I love you." He sweetly grabs your face so you can turn your head to look at him. There was a pounding in your ears coming straight from your chest. A warm feeling spreads throughout your stomach.

"You...you love me, nii-san?"

"Of course I do." He was actually smiling at you, "If I didn't, would I be inside you right now?"

His face didn't seem so blank anymore. Sakusa never ever smiled at you. Hell, he never really smiled in general. Someone actually loved you. Holy shit. And he was even pounding away at your insides like you were a fuck doll.

Is that why he's so mean? Was he just trying to hide his feelings for you this whole time? You could die laughing right now. His cock felt so damn good rearranging your guts against your will yet you were struggling to accept it.

Your cheeks naturally puffed up in happiness as you smiled so brightly at him. The flip switched in your brain so easily. Without another word, Sakusa kissed you passionately, because he knew you would let him continue to ravage your body. Your hips began to buck from the pressure building up in your lower half and you starting pushing your hips towards him, welcoming his length inside you. It felt like you needed more of him. More of his love.

Love me.

"Nii-san," you gasped against his lips. His movements never faltered, which you figured was from his amazing athletic ability and stamina.

"Be a good little sister and cum on my cock," he coaxed. He could tell you were so close to cumming from how tightly your precious cunt was hugging his length and how you were squirming against him. You were both slick with sweat. As you started squirming more violently against him, Sakusa tightened his grip on you.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whined desperately, “Nii-san, I’m gonna cum!” You grabbed his arms and pushed your fingernails into his skin, making him hiss from the sudden pain. With a firm grip over your mouth, he muffles your screams. Satisfaction settled in your stomach as you exploded all over his cock. Your sweet juices trailed down your thighs onto the bedsheets.

As much as Sakusa wanted to, he couldn’t fill up your insides and see your hole dripping with his cum just yet. He quickly pulls out of you and lets his seed shoot onto the bare skin of your ass. The shock of your orgasm left your thighs trembling, your skin wet, and your eyes drooping.

“You’re the best little sister.”

You would’ve replied, but you could barely form any words as you lost consciousness again. When you woke up the next morning, you were fully dressed and cleaned up, with no stickiness between your thighs like how you used to wake up.

Sakusa actually cleaned you up this time. You felt your heart melt and butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Everything seemed to go back to normal between you two, with the same small talks and not really seeing each other often, but he always had a knowing smirk on his face whenever he saw you.

Whenever his eyes would trail up your body to meet yours, you could feel a warmth in your stomach spread all throughout your body which forced you to look away quickly. Whenever he insulted you, you would feel your thighs press together. Whenever you caught yourself admiring his features when he replaced his face mask for a new one, you smiled softly to yourself.

When it was time for him to leave, you couldn’t help but let a few tears shed. He was all set to go, with his backpack on and his mask covering his face.

“Hey, don’t cry, (Y/N),” he cooed, wiping your tears away, “You know I won’t be gone forever.”

You sniffled, “I know. I just hate being here alone.” Well, not necessarily alone. You just hated being ignored and neglected just because you weren’t your brother.

“If you manage to get into my college, you can move in with me. How does that sound?” You instantly perk up and dry your tears with your shirt.

"Really?!” you asked with excitement. You imagine all the things you could do with your nii-san without your parents in the picture. You could go out together, hold hands, share kisses, just about anything. He could even fuck you whenever he wants.

These thoughts about your own step brother would've made you feel sick before.

But that was before you knew Sakusa loved you. Now, you couldn't help but ask your mom when the next time your nii-san would be coming to visit. While you were waiting for his next visit, you studied hard.

College would be so much fun with your nii-san with you!

Part 2

[xxsmokeyy]

Levi x Reader (F) It’s The Tea

genre: fluff, canon divergence — coffee shop setting

summary: a misplaced table and a pair of hands that had a knack for good tea; you wonder what brought Humanity’s Strongest to your shop.

wc: 6,262

part II

“I’ll have one flat white,” a customer says as she picks money from her coin purse. You give her a smile after receiving her payment, the exact amount saving you the task of calculating change.

“Coming right up.” And you make your way to the coffee beans to make the blend she ordered. She watches in patience as you skillfully maneuver around the counter, getting everything done along the process. You incline the porcelain a little to make for the finishing art, steamed milk piercing through the coffee and creating a signature shape. In no time, you hand her the drink on top of a saucer.

She silently nods as brief thanks, and as soon as she turns her back to you, you dart your eyes on a table of one by the far right windowpane. You carefully spectate her and what direction she’s going. She’s going to the table!

The make-do suspense keeps you on your toes as you look at her intently, breath slightly hitching, waiting for her to sit on the lone chair. The woman navigates across the room, heading straight for your wishful desires. Your hands fly to your mouth in shock, witnessing the life-changing moment unravel before your eyes. No way. She really is.

The cup of coffee on her left hand, she uses her right to move the chair to take a seat. But just when she’s about to pull it back, someone calls her from another table, waving at her excitedly.

You stand upright and alert while your scrutinizing gaze follow her movements. She looks at where the voice is coming from, and almost immediately, her face brightens upon seeing who. Her right hand lets go of the wooden furniture and proceeds to where the caller sits. You look at her destination and find three people on a table of four. It doesn’t take long before she takes the free seat and starts chatting with them.

Your body slumps back with a disappointed sigh. Looks like no one’s sitting there yet again.

It’s the closest call you’ve ever had after years of this shop’s existence. Why no one chooses to sit there is beyond you. Either your customers are not alone, or they are, but only to take out their orders. Actually, even if they’re alone, they’d take the table for two instead. Do they not want to look lonely that bad? You groan in annoyance.

The table consists of a small, circular table and a single chair by the window. In your mightiest opinion, it’s the perfect place to just sit down, enjoy a cup of hot coffee, and read a book. But nobody’s ever done that through the passing years, and you can only witness the table being neglected by people.

It irks you a little. Could there have been another way to maximize the space that stemmed from unproportional construction? Maybe it really is time to remove those. Maybe it’s not really a big deal.

You’ve been contemplating too many times replacing it with a plant vase or a decorative ornament to take up the space since it’s of no use anyway. But something just tells you you shouldn’t. Besides, just thinking thinking about feels costly.

The rest of the day goes by quickly, and before you know it, you’ve opened the store again, serving customers after customers. This time, you never gave the table another glance. Surprisingly enough, you spent the whole night debating with yourself on what decoration you should fill the space with. A nice bookshelf would’ve been good, but you decided to go with a monstera plant to make use of the window right by it. Not until your day off, though, which is still on Sunday.

Having consecutively served around six customers and cleaned used tables, you sit and take a breather, resting your eyes by reading a book to let a couple minutes go by.

You slowly get sucked into the story, the marvelous art of prose bringing you into the plot’s little universe. The way the writer used the most fitting descriptive words possible astounds you, making a smile of enjoyment involuntarily creep up your lips. Somehow, you think writing is similar to making coffee, mixing different elements to create the perfect blend, the sole goal of making an exquisite taste that will leave people aching for more? Oh, and they both smell good, books and coffee. A chuckle leaves your lips.

Just when you’re deep in thought, things starting to stir up in the narration, someone speaks in front of you.

“One black tea,” a stern voice curtly orders, interrupting your peace. Harshly brought back to reality, you rise to your feet to resume to work. First tea of the day, huh?

Sure, your shop is known for its good coffee, but your tea can put up for a competition, too. It’s just that these days, coffee is more on the popular side, since tea can be made in almost any household now.

You close your book to attend to the customer, but not without leaving a bookmark on the current page. When you look at him, you almost freeze in your tracks. Well if it isn’t Humanity’s Strongest himself!

A pair of dazing stale eyes bore into your own with an unreadable expression and you compose yourself. Crap, you must have been caught giggling to yourself. You feel heat speedily cover your cheeks, turning you to a blushing mess. How shameful.

“Pardon me,” you excuse, clearing your throat before telling him the price. He wordlessly fishes for his wallet and pays. He does find you a bit weird, laughing at nothing, but pays it no more mind. He’s supposed to be on leisure, not meddling with some brat’s uncanny actions.

As you turn your back to make his beverage, you squint your eyes in loss of face. It really is the Captain Levi, and you probably looked like a creep in his eyes. Now what will become of your shop’s repute?

You shove the thought to the back of your head and start working. The ravenhead watches back as you work your hands into making a, hopefully, good blend. Your heart is beating wildly inside your chest like it’s about to jump off your rib cage, but you try to ignore it. The thought of a widely known persona such as him inside your very shop is crazy. To what do you even owe this pleasure?

Oh well, you’ll just pour your heart into making his tea, that way you might erase his ridiculous impression of you in his head. Hey! What’s so bad about giggling while reading? your subconscious tries to defend while you strain the boiled tea leaves into a clean china. The earthly smell hits your nose, making you want one, too.

You smile as you hand over the teacup. “Thank you for your service,” you add, even going as far as bowing. The moment the phrase escapes your lips, you regret it right away. Chills shoot up your spine. It sounds so awkward and unnecessary, but should you just treat the Captain like any other people knowing he’s done so much for your country?

Your cheeks flush into a faint, pink color. Thankfully, you’re slightly angled downwards, he might not see. Levi only eyes you for a second before nodding and taking the cup of tea in his hands, his calloused fingers grazing your hands fleetingly.

When you hear his footsteps fade, you rise and rub a palm against your face. You hesitantly take a glance toward the Captain, and shock takes over your whole system. To be totally honest, you never thought you’d see the day someone would sit on that table.

He looks perfectly placed on the table, like it’s reserved a long time just for him. He’s in civillian clothes, probably to not attract a lot of people. The sunlight gives his face a pretty sheen, the air from the window blowing lightly on his dark fringes. Your heart continues to skip several beats for no clear reason. Maybe that is the reason why your instincts keep telling you to not replace it.

Meanwhile, Levi sips on the freshly brewed tea, the strong flavor staining on his tongue just right. As he occupies his mind somehwere else, the taste hits better. Everything feels evenly distributed, the base smooth and pleasant, the amount of water not brimming. The temperature isn’t so bad as well.

Then and there, he guesses you source fine leaves from the innermost walls, which is a luxury at this point, not to mention your non-overpriced charge.

Not bad, he thinks.

You’re dumbstruck as you sit back in awe. You weren’t able to decipher what he’s thinking, but you know for sure he doesn’t hate it from seeing that he emptied the whole thing and left a generous tip.

You grab your tray and proceed to cleaning up the table he previously seated on, the whole decision of shopping for a plant on Sunday going down the drain.

—

It’s been a whole month since the Captain’s visit, and you think of the once in a lifetime moment often, and at times randomly. You sure as heck won’t be removing the table now that something has happened.

“Thank you,” you say as you hand the cup of coffee, serving the last one for the queue. It’s a late, cloudy afternoon, looking like it’s about to shower, and the shop is pretty dull. Well, that only means you can read more.

“Is this the shop they say sells well?” you hear someone from the ordering area. “Yeah, you go ahead,” they converse. You’re making coffee for yourself at the moment and you can’t peer to look at whose voice it is.

“What? You do it!”

“Just go! We don’t have time!”

“What the fuck? You’re the one holding the knife, aren’t you?!” a man shouts in a whisper. You can’t hear crystal clear due to being far into the counter, although you know they must be disturbing the atmosphere.

Vexed by their rowdiness, you turn around and stop making the blend. You walk to the front of the counter, “Excuse me, please lower your—”

“Give me all your money, lady. Let’s transact in peace so nobody gets hurt,” the man grabs your collar, knife pointed straight into your neck. Another man of his companion moves to the side to cover their actions. You don’t feel the sharp edge prick your skin due to intense panic.

You look around frantically, worried if there are other people harmed. To your relief, they seem to not notice anything, if you can even call that relieving. Now there must be no saving you.

“It’s alright, we won’t bring someone else into this, just do what we ask,” the other guy says, wide, haunting eyes looking straight into you. You feel cold sweat drip from your forehead.

“Now hand us what you got.”

On the other hand, Levi finishes with his errands around the capital and stumbles within your shop’s vicinity. Walking mindlessly, he checks the skies to tell the time, but sees the dark clouds instead. It seems it’s about to pour.

He’s already in front of your shop, but the threatening rain will be bigger trouble, he might get stranded if he stops by. Plus, he probably didn’t bring enough money, so he’s got no choice but head back now.

Just when he’s about to leave, his peripheral vision miraculously catches sight of your horrified expression through the window, putting him to an abrupt halt. He turns to see better, and finds two men roughing you up while trying to hide the commotion.

He clicks his tongue and spins to turn away. It’s not his business anymore, it’s for the Military Police to deal with. They might be loan sharks for all he knows, and you’d be held entirely accountable for that.

Unable to take the view of the knife pointed to your neck out of his head, he sighs defeatedly and eventually discovers himself inside the store, else it’d slowly eat at his conscience.

“Oi, what’s going on here?” he questions with a firm voice, turning heads his way.

“It’s Captain Levi from the Survey Corps!”

“What a lucky day!”

People stir up upon seeing the Captain to which he only ignores, full attention on you and the two criminals.

The robber without a weapon quickly turns around to check, shaking in fear. As he makes terrifying eye contact with the Captain, he makes haste for the door in desperate hopes of escaping, but to no avail. Levi grabs the back of the poor guy’s head and slams it against an empty table, putting him to deep sleep. Then turning to your armed assaulter, Levi closes in with big steps and takes the knife down before swinging the side of his hand, striking a nerve on the man’s neck to knock him out.

Levi perceives they’re complete amateurs and wonders why they even steal. Atleast one of them tried to run, he thinks as he looks down on the passed out crooks.

You’re not exactly sure if your heart calmed down or speeded up even more—maybe both, but you feel safe and more at ease.

Tying the last knot, he stands from his kneeled form and dusts his hands off to rid himself of the filth.

You only watch silently, mind clouded in confusion of what to do. Captain Levi came just in time and saved you and your shop of possible bankruptcy. Say, it could have been the worst timing considering you haven’t cleared your cash box for weeks now. You’re reminded of how much you owe the Captain.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be out cold for a while, just call the MP’s on them,” Levi assures before taking a glance at you and fails to understand your expression, your face looks like it’s leaking shit in his opinion.

You look at the two robbers dozing off tied together by the help of Levi and your spare rope before giving your savior another bow. “Thank you so much!” you exclaim and raise your head to meet his fierce gaze.

“And sorry for the trouble, people around here can get belligerent, especially to us business owners,” you add.

He observes you from head to toe, eyes particularly lingering on your neck, and you blush in embarrassment, feeling his hot stare.

“Is there—?”

He takes something from his pocket and offers you a handkerchief which you cluelessly accept. You later on realize what it’s for, finally feeling a sting on your neck. You wipe the bleeding area and see trails of crimson on your apron as well.

With no reason to stay any longer, Levi steers to leave, but is just in time to witness the rain pour down heavily, big droplets washing against the windows. He sighs, it’s just as he guessed.

You, on contrast, get an idea to show your gratitude, feeling a physical candle light up in your brain. “Captain Levi, please stay and let the rain pass while I brew you some coffee,” you negotiate with strong willed eyes, fixed on returning him a favor. It’s the least you could do from within your limited skills, and you’d like it if he’d accept. Actually, you won’t accept if he rejects, fully wanting to pay him back atleast a tad.

He looks back at you, slightly surprised. You seem like a more persistent person now rather than an easily flustered mess. Could he be so insensitive as to decline your generous offer after seeing your firm resolve? But more importantly, coffee? Could he be so thick-skinned as to ask for something else other than that?

When he stays quiet, you decide to go ahead and make him a drink from one of your premium coffee beans, but you’re put to a stop as he speaks.

“I’d prefer tea.”

Oh, right. He did ask for black tea a month back, didn’t he? You give him a smile and a thumbs up of approval before turning your back to make his tea.

Levi massages his temples and takes a seat, eyeing the immobilized crooks and the outside, thinking what he got himself into. It won’t be so bad to stay for a while and let the rain ease down, right?

You wait for the water to boil before dropping a bunch of mint leaves, then waiting for it to simmer. You prepare a porcelain cup and saucer and pour in the hot liquid, adding honey for a natural sweetener. You mix in a couple droplets of lemon to balance the flavor and you’re good to go.

You set the tea on his chosen table of two, giving the free seat a momentary glimpse. You wonder how it would feel like to have a proper conversation with Captain Levi, only to quickly dismiss the thought of joining him as you hear someone call you from the counter. Thankfully, people are back to minding their business and don’t bother the Captain anymore. You excuse yourself and return to work, still a couple hours away from closing time.

Levi sits back and enjoys the tea you made, soon learning it’s a fresh peppermint tea. Though it’s only the second time he’s having your brew, he doesn’t know why he already has high expectations. The choice of blend is perfect for a rainy day, and it’s exactly what he would have made when he returned back to the headquarters. You don’t really look like someone who prefers tea, but he’s impressed nevertheless.

He sips on the cup, letting the weather pass and the taste line his tongue. A variety of things occupy his mind involuntarily and before he knows it, the rain has calmed down into a shower.

He stands to leave but suddenly notices an umbrella left on his table. When did that get there? He takes a glimpse at you and finds you looking back at him with curious, alert eyes like that of a cat, immediately averting your gaze and resuming to pick up the dirtied tableware onto your tray.

Levi confirms it’s from you, and it’s another one of your acts of gratitude. He’s left with no choice and grabs it, wraps his slender fingers around the handle, and takes his leave.

Satisfied, you sigh in relief as you watch his back drift into the darkness. You look at the handkerchief in the pocket of your apron, smiling. Despite rumors of him being an unrelenting leader and a ruthless thug that stretched way back, the Captain is a kind man, isn’t he? If there really is such thing as coincidence, you’d like to consider yourself lucky for having experienced it.

—

About two more weeks pass when Levi finds himself hooked into the sweet aroma of the tea you make, the ambience of your shop’s environment, and something else he can’t put a name on. In actuality, he may or may not be using your umbrella as an excuse to go to your store right now.

He takes a glance at his hand holding the same umbrella. He briefly questions himself what he’s doing but pushes the thought aside with the use of his well thought of excuse. True enough, he can’t just go around using other people’s possession, can he?

He begins to sense the growing familiarity of your shop as he closes in. The choice of location being just at the mouth of the city, the distinct line between rural and urban is visibly emphasized.

As Levi enters through the saloon door, his eyes almost immediately find your form, leisurely reading while leaning on the counter, back turned against the entrance, your hair up in a braided bun which he finds neat. He clicks his tongue as he approaches to order.

“It’s easier to mug you that way,” he says and you jolt in surprise. Recognizing the stone cold voice, you spin to see the Captain in front of you, inside your very shop once again. This is no coincidence anymore!

“Captain Levi!” you greet with a beam, utterly delighted to see him. “Pleasant afternoon, what can I get you?” you ask and look him straight in the face. He’s in casual clothes, so you guess it’s another one of his day off’s. His sombre eyes of a unique bluish grey color take on your gaze fiercely. It’s true that the eyes convey one’s entire personality, as you feel his menace even though he doesn’t intend to display it.

“Black tea,” he says without a hitch, giving you the exact amount of money, and you proceed to your working space. Boiling of water, straining of tea leaves, pouring it into clean china; as you hand it to him, they start to resemble a routine.

He goes ahead and takes the corner table, and you couldn’t be any happier, thinking he seems to like the spot, choosing it among every other free seats. Levi takes a sip, and enjoys it with no wonder. You didn’t fail to make an exquisite blend.

A couple moments later, he’s still there. While everyone else chitchats with their company, he sits in silence with his beverage, ocassionally looking at the sky freely laid out by the window. He’s never really one to catch up with the bulletin and read daily papers, he’d prefer books for that matter.

As you wipe with a rag the empty tabletop just beside him, you see him looking at the window, cup of tea in hand. He, however, feels your stare, and wordlessly slides an umbrella on the table without batting you an eye. You recognize it as yours and take a step towards him.

“You better not have arrived home drenched that night,” he says. It’s only until he returned to the headquarters that he had realized you must have given him your only umbrella.

A chuckle leaves your mouth, aren’t you concerned. “I might have.” He clicks his tongue.

You grab it in your hands and follow his gaze, soon looking vacantly at the view as well. “You can see the skies from there, right?” you ask, earning a low hum in response.

“I wonder how far they stretch from outside on… Some say they’re boundless,” the words unconsciously slip from your mouth as you watch the clouds move. Something about relatively slow afternoons just hypnotize you to no end.

Levi shifts his gaze to your figure upon hearing a frame of your mind, finding a glimmer of ambition in the mesmerizing pools of your eyes. He can hear your train of thoughts out loud, while you wonder if you could ever get to experience the outside world. He remembers a couple friends thinking the same thing way back, and he realizes, it’s people like you that he hates to see drift away, one of those whom he feels he has to protect, though it’s not like you know each other to great extent.

He brings his cup to his lips and frankly speaks, “It’s not pretty out there.”

His words interrupt you from your daze, making you look at him. You notice he grips the teacup oddly, holding it around the mouth instead of its handle. You heave out a shallow sigh. “Figured you’d say that,” you say with a sad smile. It’s undeniable, coming from him.

You fish something from the pocket of your apron and leave it on his table, then making your way back to the counter. A seemingly little exchange of borrowed objects. He eyes his cleaned dry handkerchief and leaves a comment before you can stray farther, “It does seem endless.”

The corners of your lips upturn into a grateful smile. He really is soft. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t know exactly what you’re thanking him for.

—

Time and time passed, and he always comes every week without fail. Sometimes, when days are light, he even visits twice a week. You could say you have developed quite a relationship with the Captain, though not something that can be considered close to sentimental. The distance is still present, but you’d have small talks here and there, sometimes you’d lend him your books just so he doesn’t bore himself to death, or maybe so he’d stay a little longer.

You gradually learn to read his moods through the language of his orders. You find that he’s more of a tea lover based solely from the fact that he never once asked for coffee. Black tea is his regular, Oolong tea is when something probably turns out good or successful, since the price a little higher and you guess it’s his little way of celebrating, Chamomile tea when something is roughly off, you figure as he never speaks excessively when he orders it.

You never end up joining him, though. Of course, he always takes the table of one, there isn’t room for another.

“The usual,” Levi briefly says and hands you the exact charge. Never faltering, you smile and continue to make black tea for the man. “You still haven’t hired a helper,” he points out and you hum in agreement.

“I can manage by myself,” you inform as you stir his tea. You’ve managed years by your own, what use is there for an extra hand? Besides, it’s not like your shop gets hoarded by huge amounts of people. Coffee shops attract a moderate number, and you’re fine with that.

You slide the finished drink to Levi and he accepts, heading to his own little corner. Ever since he first came, you labeled the corner seat as his own, and you never thought of removing it again. He doesn’t seem like a very social person, like he’s a man of few words if talking is unnecessary. You always wonder how it must feel to have a conversation with such a persona; must be novel and inspiriting. Problem is, you don’t have the guts to initiate it. You don’t want to be overlooked as a fangirl of the sort. If possible, you want to converse casually.

It’s the looming distance between a coffee shop owner and a country’s renowned soldier that obstructs you from feeling on level as him.

Still, you don’t know why you’re currently grabbing a book from one of your drawers and why you’re currently making your way toward him, tray still in hand to clean afterwards as an excuse.

“Fancy a book?” you offer as you set one of your favorite titles on his table. He darts his eye on it and studies the cover for a brief moment, seeing if it’s up to his standards. It doesn’t really pique his interest, but you made an effort, and it’d be of great companion with the tea.

Levi accepts the book in his hands and starts reading, later learning about the main character’s introduction. “You have a lot of books,” he comments out of observation. This isn’t the first time you offered him one, nor is it just the second. He’s come to a conclusion that you have a liking for it.

You hum in agreement. “I like collecting them, but they’re still not enough to fill a shelf, though. I’m thinking about putting one here,” you say, already envisioning where to place it.

He almost immediately thought of the Headquarters’ library. A lot of books there just get covered in dust, unmoved. Cadets these days don’t take reading as hobby. He considers the idea of bringing some for your shop to make use of it. “I can hand you some,” he says, flipping the page.

Your eyes widen in an equal mix of delight and surprise. He’d go that far? For what? Is the Captain really like this? “Really? From where?” you try to hide the excitement in your voice, but it doesn’t escape his ears. Well isn’t that great? An upgrade for your shop and a chance to see him again. Not that he’s not showing himself enough.

“Scouts’ library,” he says, flipping another page, and you’re deep in thought. Is that allowed? Do I have to pay?

Just a couple of pages in, he seems partially engrossed. The protagonist is a traveller who encounters metaphorical life obstacles and is most likely to find self-discovery through it, that’s as much as he knows.

He notices you still haven’t left and bats you an eye. You look troubled and euphoric at the same time, he couldn’t understand entirely what you’re thinking but he has a clue. “It’s free. Some of it are old anyway,” he informs, which seems to bring your face relief. So his hunch turns out to be right, you were thinking of the burden.

“Oh, I wasn’t thinking that!” you deny right away, waving your hand dismissively, cheeks blushing. You definitely were.

He stays quiet, and you feel ashamed. Does he think you’re a cheapskate? Or thick-faced? Hey, he’s also reading, you must be a distraction. Oh god, how can you make acquaintances with him now?

You aim to leave and give him his space, afraid that you might be bugging him for too long now, but Levi suddenly speaks just in time.

“You have an allurement for things about the outside,” he asserts in heed. When you don’t answer, he continues, “It’s not all rainbows out there, you know.” His perception of you still stands as he’s continuously reminded by you of people who go through great measures to reach their dreams, and those he lost due to wanting to seek for more.

You don’t know if it’s a positive connotation or a negative but he doesn’t sound so enthusiastic. Your grip on the tray tightens. The way he puts it… is he trying to make you drop your interest?

“I do know that. I just,” you pause, contemplating what to say. You’re stuck with I just want to dream, is it so bad? or I just want to experience the forbidden, I’m sick of being stuck in this birdcage, or an impulsive one: I just want to see, would you bring me outside?

Instead, you settle with “I wouldn’t know, I’m a mere shop owner. I don’t have the chance to sit and talk with someone who’s gone beyond the walls.” Like you, sir.

He studies you as you look back at him with firm eyes. Brat, you already live a life with fair peace. The resolve in your eyes didn’t waver, not one bit. He thinks, will you be content with knowing about the outside? Levi heaves out a sigh and closes the book before leisurely taking a sip on his tea.

“Maybe if you’d put another chair, we’ve been talking for months now,” he then says, an even amount of sarcasm in his tone, enough to not come off as rude.

Dumbfounded, you gawk at the Captain for a good five seconds, eyes slightly enlarged in surprise before laughing your head off, turning a couple heads your way for a fleeting second.

“What’s funny?” he quizzes, thin brows furrowed together, and you wave him off, wiping your euphoric tears away.

“Well, I didn’t know it’d be that simple, Captain!” you giggle, eyes genuinely happy and hearty. Just put a chair in? In all seriousness, he doesn’t exactly look approachable with those half lidded dark eyes and a permanent scowl now, does he? That’s one of the primary reasons you have trouble making advances to him.

Levi looks at you, taking in the undeniably beautiful sight before clicking his tongue and averting his gaze.

He’s absolutely certain he paid no attention to the way you tucked your hair behind your ear in a timid manner, the way your silky locks sway gracefully by the wind’s cool breeze, the way your delicate fingers held to the tray tightly as you try to compose yourself, and the way your glowing eyes looked back at him with a gentle gaze once you’ve finally calmed down. Yes, he likes to think he paid no extra mind to those details.

“Tch, did you think I’d bite you or something?” he deadpans, taking another sip on his cup.

“No, absolutely not!” You absolutely did. “I’ll put another chair some other day,” you say and wave him goodbye upon seeing a customer enter, returning to your working place.

He shakes his head lightly and finishes his cup, bringing the book with him as he takes his exit. The smile in your face never disappeared throughout the day, chest booming in an unrelenting speed.

Sunday comes, and you decide to do a general cleaning. You also buy a small shelf from the nearest furniture shop and have it delivered, filling it with some of your books. You squeeze in a chair to the corner by adjusting the other tables’ distances, and you can only laugh at yourself for not thinking of this long ago. You think, why not just sit on a table of two? but figure maybe the Captain’s already grown fond to the spot.

You feel like a schoolgirl as you mindlessly prepare things to talk about and questions to ask. How much does he know? Are titans really that big? Is the ocean real? What brought him to your shop?

But after that, you never saw him again. You think maybe he’ll arrive later or the next day, but more weeks pass, and not even his shadow appeared.

The slowest weeks achingly turn to months. You’ve been awfully attentive to the morning papers since then, looking for the slightest news about him, or their operations. You think it’s completely understandable, being perfectly aware that the Captain is a busy man. You know that visiting little tea shops isn’t actually a luxury that a guy like him affords, but it tugs at your heart a teeny bit, a small part of you involuntarily longing for him. Eitherway, you just wish for his and his people’s safety.

About five months have passed since you last saw him. Levi, on the other hand, has gotten busy those said times. Expeditionary Operations came after another, and he’s buried with work once they arrive back. His squad got promoted to Special Operations Squad, and intensive training was mandatory. The amount of free time he had back then was generous, and in those five months, he had no time to slack off.

But he never forgot you, every single time he drinks tea, he starts doubting his own blend as compared to yours.

“That’s the last of it,” Levi says as he hands over piles and piles of paperwork to the Commander. Erwin only grunts his response.

The ravenhead contemplates for a few moments before finally speaking, “I’ll be out. I’ll return before dinner,” he informs and turns his back, words more of a statement than asking for permission. The higher ranking officer only stares at him as his figure leaves the room. Fair enough, he’s done with his current tasks as a Captain and it’s his first day off in a while. He leaves him be.

Levi dismisses his tan jacket and fixes his cravat as he heads to the shop he favors. He ends up forgetting the books he’s supposed to give but pushes it aside. Oh well, just another excuse for him to visit.

Minutes of walking on foot, steps a little quicker than normal, and he finally arrives, the ambience hugging at his aura. It’s been long since he last set his foot here. He pushes at the saloon door, a ton of improvisations greeting his sight. The interior is now painted a beige color, the warmth going along with the wooden accents. You’ve added the shelf you said you wanted to put, a fair number of books in it. Lastly, his preferred corner seat already has two chairs opposite to each other.

Your back is turned against the door again, leaning on the counter as you occupied yourself with a book. He notices that your hair has gotten longer in a span of months. He shortly wonders what else has changed.

“Oi, the usual,” a familiar voice says, stoic tone resonating in your ears and you immediately feel your soul light up, like it’s been ages since you last felt so giddy. A chaotic mix of worry, excitement, longing, and bliss surges all throughout your body.

When you face the stale eyed man, your tingling heart shamelessly speeds up, a smile rising on your lips.

—

You wave him farewell as he leaves, and as he cuts eye contact, heat shoots up into your cheeks like crazy, which he totally misses out on.

One step out and Levi feels the presence of a stalker just around the alley. He gives her a bored look and starts walking away, which she then reveals herself and follows suit.

“So this is you and your secret lover’s getaway, huh?” Hange teases, obviously aiming to pry for more. Now what, she’s spying on him? This insane woman.

“Don’t be ridiculous, she has good tea,” Levi answers in nonchalance, staring right ahead the road. The woman makes silly noises at his response, similar to those sounds only she can produce when learning new discoveries about titans.

“Precisely,” the redhead says in satisfaction, nodding her head with her hands stroking her chin as if she got the answer she’s waiting for.

He shoves her actions aside, couldn’t care less about whatever conclusion she came up with. But no matter how much he keeps convincing his subconscious, it’s the tea that draw me in, he just can’t bring himself to believe in it.

[gojoho]

MERCY

• pairing; toji fushiguro x reader [ nsfw ]

• premise; it’s the same dance with him, a shameless game of cat and mouse in which he always win but maybe losing is equally as rewarding. 

• words; 2078

• note & warning; i’m back with some toji content, he’s just been in my mind a little to long for me not the write about him. some warnings for this one is public, unprotected ( wrap it and then tap it folks ) sex, with the usual grammatical errors—I swear I try to proof read ya’ll but they just manage to find a way to stay in there. i am slowly but surely getting my mojo back.

Old habits die hard; it's easier to hate each other that way. Labeling whatever that was manifesting between the two of you as that, a bad habit. A dirty secret only an onyx sky could appreciate enough to hide. Perhaps that's what kept it alive and kicking, midnight turmoil, where even the most terrible of bad ideas are more seductive.

Though it's debatable if the alcohol left you unhinged, mindless, and bold. What other excuse did you have for allowing the bastard to enter your domain? There was no shame from the thinking without a conscience, but with the pounding music and pulsing lights, you weren't sure there was even space to think. He held a brazen stare all evening, keen to every move you made.

A man's attention was never anything to sneeze at, but when it was a straggler like Toji Fushiguro, it was intoxicating. And more than the liquor, everything seemed to be within reach under his spotlight. He held his distance, clung to the darkness, yet with such an adamant gaze he could have been right there beside you. At least, that's how you imagined it but the game wasn't that easy.

  He'd stay in his dark corner, not quite able to step closer until you were ready. Until the heat underneath your skin became unbearable, leaving you an aching mess. That made it easier to devour you. Whether it meant burying his head between your thighs or hooking his arms around your waist and keeping you open. Or bottomed out inside you, mouth feasting on your chest.

The club was full, Friday night packed but it would work in your favor. You knew none of the songs, not that it mattered, it was mere fuel to your movements. A nice accessory to the sway of your hips, to suggestive temptation behind them.

It wasn't worth looking in his direction; he was always watching. At that thought alone, your clothes become a nuisance. A means to an end, that would start with him. Toji was a patient man but knew that patience didn't extend to everyone, you in particular. He was a tease, and as your dress inclined it almost felt as if he'd been the one to hike it up.

A sensation too similar to his hands moving over your bare thighs, ready to pry them open. His smug chuckle was right there feeding your imagination, and as one song faded into the next, there wasn't a spot on your body that hadn't been kissed in theory. With one thought, you were drooling over a man less than ten feet away, fantasizing about all the ways he could take you. It was more of a headache than it seems, and as the pace of the songs picks up, the conscience returns. Whilst you make your way back to the bar. You'd need a little more liquid luck to get through the rest of the night.

  “That was quite a show.”

  “Didn’t know I had an audience.” What else could you have done but tell a bald-faced lie? Telling him the truth didn't do anyone any good. How you envision him fucking you in the middle of the dance floor.

“Could’ve fooled me." The bar was located farther away from the DJ and next to the restrooms. The quieter end of the venue, but you're sure you'd have heard his smirk regardless.

After all this time, it's only then that you turn to him.“What are you doing here Fushiguro?”

Big mistake, ten feet away he looked the same as when you last saw him, but up close and personal, some details that had escaped memory came back to haunt you.

“Would you believe me if I told you, I’m here to see you?”

Yeah right, “Not in the slightest.”

“It’s true for the most part, had a job in the area and thought I’d pop in do some sightseeing." He shifted his weight back to the counter, his elbows well-rested on either side.

“Well you came and you saw.”

“On the contrary,” he said. The double meaning has turned your cheeks crimson, and you're thankful for the red lights underneath the counter. “Cute dress.”

Images from moments before gloss over your eyes, heating every part of your body. They burned a path down your chest before settling below your hips. “Seriously Fushiguro what do you want? You made it pretty clear we both want different things the last time you popped in.”

“Things are different.” Sincere wasn't the word you or anyone else would use to describe the guy, but his demeanor defied all expectations. He seemed to be a completely different person.

  “Yeah, they are,” you mumbled, tossing back a shot you managed to order before his interruption.

  “Look," he started and turned to face you. Face inches from yours, his scent enveloping both of you. "I tried the settling down thing and it doesn’t work with my kind of lifestyle.”

It wasn't the words you wanted to hear, but you probably wouldn't have had them anyway. Wishful thinking, “Then that’s clears things up doesn’t it?” Toji Fushiguro didn’t do apologies, much like he didn’t do commitment, and even as he called after you, that would never change. Something you wish your body would recognize, no matter how much it longed for him.

  The corridor to the restrooms was too quiet for him being that close to you...too intimate. In the quick second you had turned you back to him, ready to sober up and head home, he’d already been behind you. Pushing you up against the wall in the far corner, his arms barricading you in.

  “You’re quite stubborn, you know that.” His voice was low, quiet all to maintain the secrecy veiled in the darkness.

  “Thanks, I’ll be sure to add it to my resume.” You witted, going to duck around him but he was quick and with a step forward his hips pushed yours in back place.

  “Will you just listen,” he pleaded. Not that you had much of a choice, but he took your silence as obedience. “I won’t make excuses, I’m a shitty guy but it’s gotten me this far. You won’t get the white picket fence with me. That’s not who I am.”

It was true, he was a shitty person. One minute here and the next gone with the wind. All with impeccable timing, usually around when he’d finish fucking you senseless. Truthfully it wasn’t something too much of a problem, it was better if he had his life and you with your own. Though you supposed between the kisses, and that final thrust that brought you both over the edge left some vulnerability.

  “If I’m stubborn, then you’re quite dense. I never asked for that Toji. I was fine with the wild sex but was a little conversation too much to ask? You’ve got baggage, newsflash so do I, but you’d think we’d handle it like two grown adults. You’ve always been on the move, please, slow down every once in a while.”

The silence is deafening, louder than the upbeat track in the distance. You were irritated, angry, and, to make it worse, aroused. What else did he expect from you but a meltdown? As he moved his head to your back, he lowered his arms, allowing them to ghost your waist. “I'm sorry,” he said softly, kissing it.

In retrospect, you should have jumped for joy, climbed to the top of the bar, and screamed at the top of your lungs like a lunatic, but you didn't. You didn't want to abandon his embrace at that moment; he had really changed.

The kiss in trial is slow and tender, responsive to not only the worries but any emotion in between. Everything you didn't think he was capable of and all rage bleeds into desire. Each of you starved and desperate to find a fill.

The stiffness of his pants condemned his hold, which found its power over your hips. You want to propose that he return the excitement to your place or whatever hotel he was staying in, but he broke the kiss to turn you around. His patience had reached its maximum for the night.

“Wait for a second,” you mumbled out. A slight moan slipped through feeling his erection firm and strong against your rear. The ends of your dress taunted by his fingertips liked how you pictured them too. “Sorry princess, no can do.”

  It’s almost impressive how quickly he lifts your dress and slipping a finger past your thong. But should anyone know your body in grave detail it was him. There’s a ceremonial cheer from the crowd as the DJ lets the beat drop, Toji’s opportune moment of intrusion. Your own cry, not one in interest to the music but the long slender finger to part your folds.

“I’ve waited all night to get my hands on you,” he mumbled out, lips pressed to the back of your neck.

  “Toji—”

“I’ll be quick, just the way you like it.”

  It’s in your best interest to stop him there, keeping private matters just that, you should stop him...should.

  “Fuck…quickly.” you cursed out in compliance. There’s a smirk on his face, you know it. Sure he’s different, but some things never change.

  In the second he pulled his finger away, you whimper half expecting for it to slip back in, maybe even with a partner but a casual Friday night turns into Christmas.

  “I'll take my time with you later, right now—” he started face pressed into the back of your shoulder. “I just need to be inside you.”

  First was the tip of his cock, a feeble tickle before the rest of his inches followed. Stretching you full, slipping deep into your heat. Coaxing the ache that was for him, letting the world see just how easily your body welcomed his own. Yet, it was hard to care about the rest of the world when your own revolved around everything below your hips.

  He gripped them tightly, anchoring you there at the hilt with a slow sure thrust before looping a hand to your front. Twisting the nerves in time with his sudden thrust. Quick like he said, but still slow enough to feel him move inside you. In and out, then over again. The excitement of having him there indulging with your body, and the anxiety of getting caught clashed. Making you even more aware of your walls around him, but in his muffled moans there are words of encouragement. Sweet nothings that make your arousal fierce, sexy, and less wrong.

  “Don't stop, ” you say a little too loud for doing something taboo but you don't care, “Don't fucking stop.”

  The million and one fantasy that flooded your mind on the dancefloor spirals, winding with the moment and coiled in an untamed void. Ready to snap at those trying to control it. And there, shrouded in the thin veil of privacy Toji picks up his pace, teasing it with each stroke until finally, it shudders through. Coming in waves, meeting your peek every time he pushed forward. Bolting down your legs the more sloppy and anxious his hips became.

  “Fuck, ” he grunts hands shooting to your chest. Pulling you closer to him, eating up your moans with his.

  Almost feral with the way he continued despite his cock’s twitches, he wasn't nearly satisfied but that was a mess neither of you was capable of cleaning up at the moment. Regrettably, you push back on his rhythm stopping it completely. Snapping him from the haze.

“We should go, ” you whisper out on his lips. Which he can only grunt back in response to, hesitant to slip from your warmth.

His hands are glued to your body, unable to null all contact as you tugged your dress back down or as he tucks himself back into his pants. You'd ask whether it was back to your place or his but the languid look on his face as the two of you shamelessly stepped into the light made it fruitful. It didn't matter where the two of you went, he'd have you crying for mercy.

[joaquinwhorres]

Stitches & Blankets (Joaquin Torres x Reader)

SUMMARY ››››› You find Joaquin Torres after he tries to stop the bank robbery.

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,000-ish

WARNINGS ››››› language

A/N ››››› OK, why are there not more Torres fics? I'm legitimately confused about that. Also, I realized after writing half of this down, that a bank was robbed, so there were probably still police on the scene and the reader'd probably be speaking Swiss-German but uh...fan fiction.

There was a body in the street, which was not what you expected to see coming out to your car.

You'd heard the wailing sirens and shouting and the thunderous footsteps--they're what kept you pressed against the side of the building for the past ten minutes, avoiding the chaos as much as possible. It wasn't fear that kept you there though, it was experience. You'd become used to the quick riots and little skirmishes for resources over the past few months. You knew it was better to stay out of the way, wait out the storm, and then go about your life. They became nothing more than minor nuisances. Bits of unrest that were there and then gone in the next instance. They weren't supposed to leave a body behind.

"Meine Fresse," you murmured, racing forward to the person lying supine on the stones, arms out to their sides, the white of their sneakers reflecting the street lights. As you drew closer, you saw it was a man--about your age with blood around his eye and nose and lip. For a brief second, you wondered if he'd been trampled, but he definitely would have looked worse for wear based on how many people you'd heard.

"Bist du okay?" Your voice was loud as you checked over the rest of his body. He didn't seem to have any other injury, and there wasn't any blood under his head, so you decided it was safe enough to gently shake him.

He didn't rouse.

So, instead you knelt your ear down to his lips, laying your hand flat on his chest. You felt your hand rise before you heard the slow intake of breath, and you rocked back onto your knees. He was breathing. He was alive.

Still, something gnawed at the back of your mind, urging your fingers up under his jaw, gently pressing into his neck. It was only then that you felt a surge of relief. His pulse was there, and it was strong. He was really alive.

And then you remembered that you should probably call 112.

All things considered, it was a quick phone call--the operator seemed to know your exact location and vaguely what had happened as you explained where you were and how you found him. Instead, most of the conversation was spent listening to their instructions to roll him into a recovery position and check for any signs of life-threatening injuries. When they told you that you could hang up because they were close, you did so and found the man blinking at you.

"Hoi," you greeted soothingly. "Wie heisst du?"

He groaned, attempting to roll onto his back once more. You reached out a hand stopping him, and he looked up at you confused.

"Comment t'appelles tu?" You attempted, hoping he wasn't an Italian or Romansch speaker. You hardly knew enough of either language to tell him you couldn't speak it.

He winced and lifted his hand to his face. "Shit."

English. Good.

"What's your name?" you asked, and his eyes seemed to focus on you once more, this time a spark of recognition or maybe just awareness lighting up behind them.

"Joaquin," he informed, and you released an arm, allowing him to finally roll onto his back like he wanted. He had a strong American accent, even through the gravelly voice of barely regained consciousness. "Did they get away?"

"Ähm," you looked around at the empty street. "Yes?" you guessed.

He let out a heavy sigh. "I'm gonna have to call some people."

"I think you should wait for the ambulance."

"Yeah," he agreed, the word breathy and pained. "That's probably a good idea."

"What happened?" you asked, and he raised his eyebrows, looking back at you.

"Flag Smashers."

"I didn't think the Flag Smashers hurt people."

"I'm just lucky, I guess," he answered, and you smiled, letting out a small laugh. He offered a small smile as well.

You could hear the siren now, the faint sound winding its way through the curving streets of Zürich and towards the two of you. Your head turned towards the sound, as if you could trace it back to the ambulance, and gauging the distance. "They should be close," you said, returning your attention to Joaquin.

"What's your name?" he asked, and the question surprised you. Then again, if the two of you were stuck waiting for an ambulance at nine o'clock on a Sunday night, maybe a bit of small talk shouldn't have been so surprising.

"Y/N," you answered, and he repeated it.

"You're very pretty, Y/N."

The laugh escaped you on instinct, although to call it a laugh might not be the best descriptor. It was more of a surprised noise, partially exhale and a tinge of amusement added through the slight smile at the corner of your mouth.

"Thank you," you said. "You are very pretty too."

And he was, underneath the dark red and rapidly purpling injuries. He had a strong jaw and kind eyes, and even the hint of a smile he'd given earlier had made something in your chest constrict.

"I don't feel so pretty," he responded, and this time your laugh was more of a laugh, and he reached up to feel at his face. You took hold of his hand, bringing it back down and trapping it in yours.

"Pretty enough for me to hold your hand," you joked, hoping to distract him from continuing to poke and prod and break all of the rules and instructions the EMTs had given over the phone.

"Well, I got that goin' for me, I guess," he said, letting his hand relax into yours.

Headlights bathed you in a warm yellow light as flashing blue lights bounced off the surrounding buildings, illuminating the rest of the street.

There were some shouts as the doors of the ambulance opened and people poured out, running towards you and Torres. The paramedic crowded around quickly, a blonde bearded man asking  quick questions in German.

"Er spricht Englisch," you explained, and he nodded, switching languages.

It became apparent as police officers pulled up and flooded out of their cars that you were no longer needed. You stood up, backing away and letting Joaquin's hand slip through yours.

"You're not going to stay and hold my hand?" Joaquin called out to you, and you let a smile curl across your lips. Around you, people were starting to come out onto the street, lured by the sounds of the sirens and lack of shouting and general ruckus. Your eyes fell back on Joaquin who was still looking up at you, even as a paramedic flashed a light into his face.

"Maybe he can hold your hand," you said, gesturing to a paramedic who had slid into your place. Joaquin gave half a smile as you turned and left him in the hands of the professionals.

As you rounded the corner, arms full of blankets, the last person you expected to almost run into was Joaquin.

Part of the surprise was the kind that generally accompanied running into someone outside of the context you know them in. A larger part of the surprise was the fact that he was not in the hospital.

Instead, he stood before you, face swollen, bloodied and bruised, with the small white bandages of butterfly stitches above his right eye. He blinked at you, as if he was caught in the headlights.

"Pretty Joaquin," you said, surprise ringing through every part of your voice.

"Y/N."

At least his memory wasn't affected by whatever the Flag Smashers had done to him. His response time was also quicker than it had been two and a half hours ago, and he seemed all in all more present and less hazy. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here." Your own surprise and mild confusion had not quite worn off. "What are you doing here?"

For a variety of reasons, he was not the typical person who stumbled into the Zürich GRC Refugee Camp. He was both too young and too old and far more put together than a normal incomer. He didn't have that haunted look behind his eyes that made your heart wrench. He looked battered and bruised but ok.

"I need a place to stay."

Your eyes ran over his form, from his fluffy dark hair and banged up face to his bright white trainers. You lifted an eyebrow. "The hospital wouldn't take you?"

He shook his head with a sheepish grin. "It's just a broken orbital. Not much else they can do for it." Your eyebrows didn't lower and he gave half a laugh. "Trust me I'm as shocked as you are."

"I'll need you to fill out some paperwork."

He winced. "Any way that could wait until tomorrow? My head is killing me."

You stared intently at his face. Over the past four months of working at the GRC camp, you'd gotten good at reading people. You had an eye for knowing who was going to be trouble down the line and who would need some extra comfort and care. You knew who to push about their stories, and who to wait for--to be there as they slowly unraveled their tale.

So while there was a lot about pretty boy Joaquin that just didn't add up, you could see in his eyes that he could be trusted to stay the night. Just not here.

"You can't stay here without going through intake," you shook your head. "But if you really need a place to sleep, you can come with me."

"Really?" Joaquin asked, turning to follow you as you set back off towards your car, and you nodded.

"It's nothing special--just my couch. But I've been told it's very comfy."

Joaquin faltered a step, slowing down. "You're sure you want me coming and bloody-ing up your couch? I could just stay here and leave before--"

"I'll put down some papers," you said jokingly in an attempt to cut off the subject of him staying at the camp.

"Ok," he said, his voice distracted before there was a quick shuffle of footsteps and he caught back up with you. "Ok, thanks."

The two of you arrived at your car shortly thereafter, Joaquin moving to sit in the passenger seat as you dumped the blankets in the car. You came around to slip into the driver's seat, quickly backing out of the spot and setting off back home.

"So what's with all the blankets?" he asked, pulling his attention from the streets and buildings and back to you.

"We got a late donation tonight," you answered, flicking on your turn signal. "They needed someone here to help organize the drop off and then our washing machine broke, so I have to take work home with me." You smiled at the joke, but he just nodded, leaving you to wonder if maybe your English was off. The next few moments passed in quiet before you checked over at a traffic light to see if he was still awake. He was, but he looked dazed. Maybe he had been telling the truth about his head. You eyed his injuries which looked even worse in the red light. Like his entire right side of his face had been smashed.

"So what brought you to Switzerland?"

It wasn't the question you wanted to ask. You wanted to ask him what had happened with the Flag Smashers--why had they beaten him up so badly. But you weren't sure you were ready for that answer or if he'd even give it. So you asked a question you didn't care if he lied to you about.

"I was looking for someone," he said, and the light turned green, causing you to turn away and focus on your driving rather than him. Still the sentence seemed to end earlier than his thought as you could feel the weight of more words hovering between you. It was a familiar pressure in your ears and your chest, and you'd long grown accustomed to the discomfort.

Like many, Joaquin didn't give the thought words to escape on.

"A refugee?" you asked, and he wobbled his head.

"Yes and no. She survived the Snap."

"She?" A small feeling like a tight wire cord wound its way around your chest and a  warmth of embarrassment flooded the back of your neck. "Your sister? Your wife?"

"No," he shook his head. "My grandmother."

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him look at you for the first time.

"What's her name?  If she came to the camp I should know her."

"Mariana Torres," he answered, and you ran through the array of faces you'd met. There was a Mariana Böschl , but she was old enough to be his mother, not his grandmother.

You shook your head slowly. "I can check the registry tomorrow, but I don't think she's with us."

"Thanks," Joaquin said, looking back out the window at the passing city. "Were you Blipped?"

"No," you shook your head, pulling into your designated parking spot by your apartment. "I was lucky." The two of you climbed out of the car, and he met you by the trunk, pulling the blankets out before you could reach for them.

"Thank you," you said.  And he gave a small grin.

"Thanks for letting me stay with you."

You gestured with your head up the stairs, heading to your third floor apartment.

Joaquin trailed behind you, arms laden with the blankets, waiting patiently as you stopped and opened the door. "Welcome to my home," you greeted, allowing him to enter before you. Your small apartment was dark, and you flicked on the light so that Joaquin could walk further inside without running into a wall or your table. "You can put the blankets by the couch, I'll wash them tomorrow," you instructed, and he did as you suggested before wandering over to the couch.

"I think I have an extra pillow in the closet," you said.

"Great," he thanked, dropping down onto the couch.

It took a few minutes to find the pillow and put a pillowcase on top of it. By the time you walked back out to the living room, the light was still on, and so were his shoes, but he was passed out. You walked over to the sleeping boy, placing the pillow down next to the couch in case he woke up and pulling the blanket over his body, your eyes once more tracing over his injuries.

You would have to speak to Karli about the violence.

[goodlucktai]

out past the shallow breakers

the untamed pairing: jiang cheng & wei ying, jiang cheng & lan sizhui word count: 3148 read on ao3

x

“He died!”

The words ring loud, sharp—in the pavilion where they’re taking their evening meal, surrounded on all sides by untroubled water, the words seem to carry for miles.

It’s unlike Lan Sizhui to raise his voice at all, much less to raise it toward a senior. His hands, resting politely on his knees under the table, have curled into fists.

“Everyone goes on and on as though baba has so much to atone for,” Lan Sizhui says, each word lurching from his throat like a line of fierce corpses shambling through brush. “What more is there for him to give? What more do you want? He died.”

Jin Ling is staring at his friend as though he’s never seen him fully before. On Lan Sizhui’s other side, Wei Wuxian’s expression is shifting rapidly from alarm to comprehension. His gray eyes are full of a painful understanding.

“Sizhui ah,” Wei Wuxian says, touching the boy’s shoulder. “Come take a walk with me.”

Jerking his head in a nod, Lan Sizhui pushes to his feet and then pauses there. His Gusu Lan whites, those extra lines and layers that denote him a member of the main family, ghost elegantly around him when he lowers himself in a bow that is every inch deep that it needs to be and not one inch deeper.

“Sect Leader Jiang, this disciple apologizes,” he says. The cheerful ‘shushu’ of earlier that morning might as well be a memory of another life. “My behavior was unworthy.”

He doesn’t grit it out, the way Jin Ling would probably have had to. It doesn’t even seem to cost him any pride.

For one, single, impossible moment, it’s as though Jiang Yanli is standing there, making her apologies to their mother for her brothers’ sake, to spare them any pain she could. It didn’t matter that the blame wasn’t hers. It didn’t cost her any pride, either.

But Jiang Yanli didn’t have a chance to be a part of her nephew’s life, as much as she would have wanted to be. This likeness isn’t hers, not truly. Wei Wuxian was always more like his sister than he or Jiang Cheng were ready to admit.

“Forget it,” Jiang Cheng says. His voice is hoarse, but in the stillness of the water and the silence of the pavilion, it carries, too. “Go on.”

Wei Wuxian shepherds his son from the table. He glances back at Jiang Cheng once, a grimace of apology on his face, but then Lan Sizhui’s hand finds the trailing black hem of Wei Wuxian’s sleeve and clutches to it, and that steals all of Wei Wuxian’s attention as easily as a slap or a shout might have.

The moment they’re gone, Jin Ling lets out a breath he must have been holding, and rounds on his other uncle with wide eyes.

“What did you say?” Jin Ling blurts. “I wasn’t really paying attention, but it didn’t sound like—I mean, it sounded normal.”

Jiang Cheng is still staring at the place Lan Sizhui had stood.

The last living remnant of a persecuted clan, so much an amalgamation of his two fathers that it didn’t make sense that one of them had been dead for most of his young life—holding a grudge and bowing his head at the same time. Lan Wangji, in Jiang Cheng’s experience, has never once let something go that he could nurse icy resentment for instead. Wei Wuxian has always choked down hurt like it was second nature, no matter that it must feel like swallowing nails every time.

It was a normal conversation, but perhaps that’s exactly why Lan Sizhui couldn’t bear another second of it.

“He died,” Lan Sizhui had said, as raw as a fresh wound, or one that kept getting torn open again before it could heal. “What more do you want?”  

#

“Ah, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says the next morning, meeting him in the courtyard. “Did you sleep well?”

He’s smiling with a certain nervous energy that Jiang Cheng can only pick out because he spent the formative years of his life raising and being raised by his siblings. To an outsider, there probably wouldn’t be a single visible chink in that cheerful armor.

Jiang Cheng, for all his failings, isn’t an outsider. Not quite. The door between them is closed—has been closed for years, almost decades—but Wei Wuxian isn’t the one who closed it. There almost certainly isn’t a lock or talisman keeping Jiang Cheng from forcing it open again.

It won’t come open again easily. There is so much stacked in the way. Hurt and betrayal and grief throw their weight into keeping it shut, weighing it down on either side.

But—

“What more do you want?” Lan Sizhui had asked.

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng forces out. Wei Wuxian blinks, as if he didn’t expect a forthright answer, or any answer at all. Something about his open surprise at the barest scrap of civility makes Jiang Cheng add, “If you’re awake this early, you didn’t sleep at all.”

His brother takes the opening for what it is, and bends into character. “Oh! You know me so well!”

Mo Xuanyu’s body is smaller, slighter, than the body that Wei Wuxian was born into, and his face is not quite the same, but Wei Wuxian’s mannerisms shine through so clearly that it’s easy to look past everything else. Even the way he stands still is entirely his own, his whole body vibrating with the necessary focus it takes to keep from bursting into movement again.

He is so familiar. The most familiar thing in Jiang Cheng’s entire, almost-empty life.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Wei Wuxian says. The words spill from his mouth like river pebbles, scattering around their feet. There’s that echo of their jiejie again, smiling around I’m sorry. “Don’t hold it against him, please. He’s so young, and he’s struggling to make sense of some things. He was happy that you invited him to Lotus Pier.”

The past-tense makes Jiang Cheng want to flinch, but he doesn’t. He just stands there in the peach pink morning and absorbs the beginning of a goodbye.

“So you’re leaving, then?” he mutters.

“I think we’ve definitely worn out our welcome this time,” Wei Wuxian says, easily shouldering the blame for everyone else’s bad behavior. They might as well be twelve years old again, kneeling here in the courtyard under Madam Yu’s furious eyes. “But it’s alright! Wen Ning sent word that he’s waiting for us outside of Yunmeng and Sizhui is eager to see him. We’ll go find some trouble to get into before we head back home.”

He won’t say a word about this change of plans to his husband, but Lan Wangji will still find out—whether Lan Sizhui tells him, or Wen Ning, or he just picks up something from Wei Wuxian through osmosis—and the next cultivator conference will be excruciating. And if the Jiang clan gets anything out of it, it won’t be anything good. And Jiang Cheng will feel slighted and angry for months, until the next time Wei Wuxian swings by for a visit. And having his brother nearby will soothe an ache in the pit of Jiang Cheng’s chest that he’s able to ignore all the rest of the time. And then, inevitably, Wei Wuxian will look wistfully at the water, or linger for too long by the flowers their sister liked best, or bring some other manner of ghost to the dinner table, and Jiang Cheng will lash out because it’s the only way he knows how to handle hurt. And then Wei Wuxian will extract himself and go home to Cloud Recesses early, and Lan Wangji will rightly guess why. And it just never fucking ends, does it?

The grief he carries around with him—he’s not wrong to carry it. It’s his. He was hurt, time and again, by a person he used to count on not to hurt him. He’s two times an orphan; once when his parents died, and again when his siblings did. He had to rebuild his home from the ground up, by himself, with his own two hands. Everything he has is what he was able to dig out of the dirt and ashes.

It isn’t Wei Wuxian’s fault that Lotus Pier fell. It isn’t his fault that the Wens were persecuted, that they had nowhere else to turn for protection. And it isn’t—

This one hurts; this one comes away bleeding. Jiang Cheng forces himself through it anyway.

It isn’t Wei Wuxian’s fault that Yanli died.

She died for him, but he didn’t ask her to.

Jiang Cheng feels his brother’s golden core thrumming inside his chest, hyper-aware of it now in a way he rarely was before—how it feels the way the sun looks in the morning, warm and brilliant and spilling color across the dull gray of dawn.

He didn’t ask Wei Wuxian to cut himself open for Jiang Cheng’s sake. He can’t be blamed for his brother’s choices. And if that’s true (and it has to be true or Jiang Cheng will go insane) then Wei Wuxian can’t be blamed for their sister’s choice, either. Yanli died for Wei Wuxian because she loved him, and Wei Wuxian gave Jiang Cheng his golden core because he loved him, and Jiang Cheng never moved on and never let go because he loved them, too.

They weren’t raised to love softly or quietly. Love between the three of them was always fierce, like a wild animal baring its teeth. Clinging to each other in a world that wanted to rip them apart. Even Yanli, who smiled and spoke with such sweetness, went to war because her brothers were there.

“What more do you want?” Lan Sizhui had asked.

Jiang Cheng lifts his head. Wei Wuxian is already looking at him, poised, as ever, to leave the moment Jiang Cheng gives him any indication that he should, like a bird ready to fling itself into flight. His brother, dead for thirteen years and back again, and only sometimes-welcome in the place he used to call home. Only sometimes-wanted by the person who used to be his family.

In a world full of people missing people they’ll never see again, Wei Wuxian is a miracle that Jiang Cheng is entirely unworthy of.

He’s right to carry his grief, because it’s his. But he wouldn’t be wrong—it wouldn’t be a betrayal—if he chose to set it down.

“You find trouble as easy as breathing,” he says, speaking through his heart, where it’s lodged in his throat, “so that shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Maligned!” Wei Wuxian cries with an air of great sorrow. “Blatantly maligned, by my own flesh and blood!”

Jiang Cheng can’t say what he wants to say. He can’t find the words. There’s only so much of himself he can dig up and expose like raw nerves before the pain of it becomes overwhelming, and he reacts to the hurt the way he always does, and shoves Wei Wuxian away.

“Don’t forget to say goodbye to Jin Ling, or he’ll never forgive you,” Jiang Cheng settles for. “And I’ll be the one stuck hearing about it.”

“I would never forget my favorite nephew,” Wei Wuxian says easily.

“And if you fuck up, and get yourself into a stupid mess,” Jiang Cheng adds, before he loses his nerve, “don’t let me hear about it from someone else.”

For a moment, Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to know what to say.

“What if it’s very stupid?” he finally asks, his voice at once both faint and painfully fond.

“What else is new?” Jiang Cheng snaps. “Just send for me, and I’ll come.”

Above them, the pink and orange of fresh dawn make way for vivid blue. As Jiang Cheng stands in his childhood home with his only brother, while the market comes to life outside the walls and the breeze sweeps the smell of lotus flowers and scallion pancakes through the courtyard, the years seem to fall away. For a brief, uninterrupted moment, they’re both back where they belong.

“Aiyah, shidi,” Wei Wuxian says. “Of course you will.”

#

The next time Jiang Cheng sees Lan Sizhui is at the cultivation conference in Gusu, two months later.

The boy smiles politely but greets him as ‘Sect Leader Jiang’ again, and next to him, Jiang Cheng can feel Jin Ling wince. Lan Sizhui’s counterpart, the wildly opinionated and deeply un-Lan-like Lan Jingyi is giving him a frank, up-and-down appraisal.

“I mean, I’ll give it to you,” he says baldly. “You’re brave. Like, if Hanguang-jun hated me as much as he hated you, I just wouldn’t show up. You couldn’t pay me to show up.”

“Jingyi,” Lan Sizhui says at length.

“No, I know. I’m just saying. Young Mistress,” he adds, sweeping into a deep, performative bow in front of Jin Ling, “if you’ll come with me, your presence is earnestly awaited by Young Master Ouyang in the library pavilion.”

“Shut up, Jingyi, I swear,” Jin Ling snaps, but he lets himself be herded away with only a single worried glance back at his uncle.

Lan Sizhui is gazing up at Jiang Cheng with a complicated expression. Even though the explosive anger of that disastrous dinner doesn’t seem likely to make a reappearance, there is still something troubled in his eyes.

“I wanted to apologize, shushu,” the boy says slowly. “Properly, that is. For the way I spoke to you last time.”

Ah. So the stiffness isn’t born of lingering irritation, but worry. These Lans, Jiang Cheng thinks, with significantly less venom than he’s used to thinking of the Lan sect with.

He has a well of patience for his nephews that has never run dry. Jin Ling has stretched it nearly to the limit, more than once, but it will take Lan Sizhui more than one emotional outburst to come even close. Given that they’ve only been family (for given value of the word) for a short while, it makes sense that Lan Sizhui wouldn’t know that.

“It wasn’t you that I was angry with, not really,” Lan Sizhui says, explaining when Jiang Cheng has already largely guessed. “I know that you care about baba in your own way, even if a-die doesn’t think so. But—there are—”

His young face folds in frustration, less remarkably than Jin Ling’s does when he’s having a snit, but just a creased forehead speaks volumes in this repressed sect.

“There are other people. Who say similar things. And they don’t mean it the way you mean it.”

Jiang Cheng knows that. He attended those meetings, too.

“And let me guess,” he says, “my idiot brother doesn’t want you speaking up for him.”

Lan Sizhui’s mouth twists. “He says that he did horrible things, and those people are well within their rights to feel about him however they want to feel about him. But—he did good, too. He protected my clan, even though he had to do it alone. I don’t remember very much,” he goes on, slightly quieter, “but I know that he made the Burial Mounds a warm and safe place for me. I know that I never felt scared or cold or hungry when I was there with him. And I don’t think most people could have done that.”

Jiang Cheng boxes up the involuntary pain that swells into place at the poking of this half-healed wound, and gives himself a moment to organize a reply. Talking to the mind-healer his chief physician recommended to him has helped a lot, not that he’ll give that smug witch the satisfaction of admitting it.

“Wei Wuxian hurt a lot of people, but so did everyone else,” he says when he’s certain he can say it without losing his composure. “We were at war. None of us are blameless. He was just the most convenient scapegoat. He still is.”

Lan Sizhui’s eyes are bright with vindication. He was born a Wen and raised a Lan, but there’s a streak of Jiang in there, too, Jiang Cheng thinks with pride. It’s that love that Jiang Cheng recognizes, the same kind of love that he and jiejie and Wei Wuxian had cultivated between them since they were children—the vicious, untamed kind of love that marches to war and claws its way up from hell and clings too hard to things it rightly should let go of.

“It isn’t fair,” Lan Sizhui says.

“No,” Jiang Cheng allows. “It isn’t.”

#

Wei Wuxian waves animatedly at Jiang Cheng from across the room, even though it makes Lan Qiren scowl at him. It’s reminiscent of every single stuffy banquet they had to sit through as kids, making faces at one another when Madam Yu’s eyes were turned away.

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes in return, and Wei Wuxian lights up like he’s been handed a pile of gold. Lan Wangji gazes at him with a tenderness that would be absolutely absurd if Wei Wuxian didn’t actually deserve every scant inch of it that got sent his way, and even though the entire cultivation world is waiting, he spares a moment to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Wei Wuxian’s ear.

Sect Leader Yao scoffs, a bit too loudly. “Shameless upstart.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes turn so sharp so fast that it promises violence.

Before he can say anything that starts another war, Jiang Cheng turns fully around in his seat.

“Problem?” he asks shortly.

Baffled, Sect Leader Yao’s gaze skates around the room for a moment before landing back on Jiang Cheng.

“If you have something to say about my brother,” Jiang Cheng says, his voice a snarl, zidian sparking on his arm, “say it so that I can hear you.”

“Ah, this meeting is off to such a lively start,” Wei Wuxian says into the ominous stillness of the room. “Shidi, you’re so energetic, why don’t you kick things off?”

It would be the first time in his career that he’s the first to speak at a conference. Openly disbelieving, Jiang Cheng looks from his brother to Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji’s eyes are narrowed, but not as though he’s sizing Jiang Cheng up for a coffin, which is how he usually sizes him up. All he does is tip his head incrementally, conceding the floor to him.

Gods. It’s that simple.

“You are really not a difficult person, are you?” Jiang Cheng says aloud.

“No,” Lan Wangji agrees, this force of nature who turned the world upside down and challenged every single person in it, who would do so again and again and again, just to be able to sit there and hold Wei Wuxian’s hand.

And then, in the closest the two of them have ever come to an understanding, Lan Wangji adds, “Neither are you.”

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s S2 R&S - Fireworks into the Heart

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers from an R&S (烟花入心) which has not been released in EN! 🍒

Features S2 Gavin. References are made to S2 Ch 16

[ Chapter One ]

“Wang Xiao Cui, you’ve been employed by the STF’s Logistics Department. Report to the cafeteria at 8am tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.”

I’ve been hired to work in the STF cafeteria. 

As a nutritionist with over thirty years of experience, joining the STF isn’t a problem for me.

My old companion isn’t able to understand why I’m not using my years of retirement to enjoy life. Without giving him a response, I simply smoothen the small creases on my STF uniform carefully.

As an ordinary person, the STF always had a mysterious and prestigious impression in my eyes. Agents who are able to work here are all heroes with indomitable spirits.

Being able to take care of their meals and enable them to get more nutrition every day to strengthen their bodies and better protect Loveland City gives me a sense of honour in protecting this city too.

Based on my experience, taking care of a group of young people is a piece of cake. However, I didn’t expect to make the mistake of underestimating this place.

-

Standing in front of the cafeteria’s bleak signboard at 7.30am, I witness several agents carrying Tianjin-style deep-friend dough sticks through the doors. Someone even carries several bags of fried beef buns. While walking, he speaks in a loud voice:

"I braved the risk of running laps to bring you guys fried buns again!”

“During training later, no one’s allowed to snatch that new gun from me.”

The other agents let out a “tsk”, taking the fried buns and chilli paste from him before dividing them amongst themselves.

Fresh out of the oven, hot steam rises from the buns in the cafeteria, and nobody bats an eye. The master who steamed the buns has already grown accustomed to this. They stand in groups of twos and threes, engaging in idle chatter.

Why doesn’t anyone in the STF like eating food from the cafeteria?

Unable to figure out an answer after much thought, I happen to spot a handsome lad dressed in a white uniform. His steps are steady, and he brings along a breeze when he walks. I immediately call out to him.

“Hey! Young lad, wait.”

The handsome lad stops in his footsteps, giving me a sweeping glance out of the corner of his eye.

“Do you need help with anything?”

“No no, I'm the new nutritionist in the cafeteria. I just wanted to ask you something. Why don’t the STF agents love to eat cafeteria food? From what I can see, the Nourishing Meal has meat and vegetables, and it’s pretty rich in nutrition.”

The handsome lad is silent for a moment before responding to my question.

“The healthy meals place too much focus on health, and they don’t taste any better than the small stalls outside.”

“Captain Gavin, the materials from yesterday’s case have been tidied up.”

“Mm, I’ll have a look at them.”

The handsome lad who was addressed as “Captain Gavin” sees that I have no further questions. Giving me a nod, he takes large strides towards the office.

With a frown, I take a bite out of a celery meat bun. Aside from the taste being slightly bland, I don’t find anything wrong with it. Furthermore, adding too much salt would reduce its nutritional value, so it’s a given that less salt would be added to it.

However, since this point was brought up, it means there’s room for improvement.

In order to prepare food that better suits the palate of STF, I spend a whole week lying low and observing the favourite eateries that the STF agents enjoy eating most, and try out all of their famous dishes.

Based on their palate, I meticulously prepare a modified version of trial dishes.

On the first day of introducing the trial dishes, I brim with enthusiasm while bringing out a “New Dishes to Try” signboard, thinking that this would raise the reputation of the STF’s cafeteria. However, even after half a day, the only things that enter are mosquitoes which I swat to death.

There’s a cold breeze at the entrance. I look at the clock hanging on the wall of the cafeteria - lunchtime is almost over.

Deciding not to wait any longer, I head outside, planning to grab a few people in to try the dishes.

The moment I step outside, my eyes brighten when I see that lad from before.

His footsteps are hurried, and he has a packet of instant noodles in his hand. He probably has to deal with some urgent matters, which is why he has to make do with that for lunch.

How is that good? An STF agent eating instant noodles? Where would I, a nutritionist, hide my pride? I hurriedly stop him.

“Young lad, there are new dishes in the cafeteria. Since you’re about to eat, why don’t you try the cafeteria? It’d be a quick meal.”

He pauses in his footsteps for a slight moment, his refusal ready. However, when he sees the menu behind me, he suddenly blinks, then looks up to give me a nod.

“I’ll have to trouble you then.”

With this, he walks into the cafeteria. I look at the menu. There’s only a simple line written on it - “Today’s Special: Chicken with Chilli”.

Does he like eating chicken with chilli?

[Note] To be precise, this dish is called 辣子鸡 (là zǐ jī). It’s a a stir-fried dish consisting of marinated then deep-fried pieces of chicken, dried Sichuan chilli peppers, spicy bean paste, Sichuan peppers, garlic, and ginger.

[ Chapter Two ]

The young man eats quickly and seriously. Ignoring the fact that that he’s eating at an unhealthy pace, I feel very relieved. When he walks over to return the tray, I ask him a question.

“You’re done, young lad? How’s the taste? Do you think there’s anything to improve on?”

The young man sets the tray down. After a moment of serious contemplation, he give his response.

“The taste isn’t bad. If you’re asking for suggestions, since it’s chicken with chilli, you could add a little more chilli.”

I record his suggestions in my notebook earnestly. At the same time, I’m secretly amazed at how members of the STF are truly talented individuals. I created this chicken with chilli dish based on the spice levels in Sichuan cuisine, but he still didn’t find it spicy enough.

Look like there’s much room for improvement in future dishes.

-

The next day, I continue with my plan to introduce trial dishes. However, most of the STF agents are already used to eating out. The ones who try the dishes are few and far between. Just as lunchtime is about to end, a familiar figure once again appears at the door of the cafeteria.

He’s the young man who ate the chicken with chilli yesterday.

He walks straight in, taking a tray and getting food. Although he doesn’t say anything, I feel very moved, and wonder if this kid dropped by specially to support the canteen’s business.

I inform him that red braised pork is being served today, accompanied with bitter gourd and scrambled eggs. He seems a little hesitant when he sees the bitter gourd. But in the end, he doesn’t say anything, finding a place to sit down and eat.

-

Over the next two weeks, it seems that as long as he isn’t out on missions or doing anything else, that young man would come to the cafeteria.

It appears that he’s a Captain or something. With his impetus, more and more people gradually eat in the cafeteria, and I have a better understanding of his reticent young man.

His name is Gavin, and he’s the Captain of the Special Ops Team. I heard that the Special Ops team is the hardest squad to get into within the STF. They are one of the very best in terms of resolved cases. Everyone in the team are the cream of the crop, much less the Captain.

I heard about how this Captain usually rushes to the most forefront when faced with any danger, which is why he receives much adoration from the team. Of course, the number of injuries and stack of silk banners in the storeroom are proportional to each other.

On the days when he isn’t around, there’s a high chance that he’s out on a mission, or having his injuries treated in the infirmary.

-

“Aunt Wang, give me the same chicken with chilli as Captain Gavin!”

A red-haired agent’s voice pulls me back to reality. He carries a tray, pointing at the chicken with chilli from across the glass. I give him a huge scoop of it. He carries the tray and sits at a row of tables close to the window. There are quite a number of people donning the same uniform, and Gavin is one of them.

“Captain Gavin, why have you fled from our braised beef noodles alliance? You’ve also stopped eating cup noodles with us when we work overtime.”

“Mm, this is something you’re unaware of. Our Captain Gavin has someone who cares for him.”

"Last time, that Miss Producer was filming something and gave us handmade biscuits. You were on leave so you didn’t know about this. Captain Gavin’s biscuits were several times more exquisite than ours. They were even heart-shaped.”

The agents wink at each other and chatter on incessantly. Gavin, the main topic of the conversation, continues eating calmly. When he finally feels slightly annoyed by the clamour, he puts down his chopsticks, glancing at the red-haired agent.

“Tang Chao, it seems that your stamina is getting better with your daily laps.”

“You’ll be my partner for the next mission.”

The red-haired agent immediately pulls a long face.

“Captain Gavin, it's not that I don’t want to be your partner. But based on my fighting skills, I’ll only be a burden to you.”

“I’ll continue shining as a support personnel, and be an emotionless lie detector for the Special Ops Team!”

Gavin ignores the red-haired officer whose name is Tang Chao. But when he lowers his head to drink the soup, I can see his slightly arched brows.

Over the past two weeks, I’ve always been seeing his composed and chilly side, and even thought that was his personality. It turns that he’s still a young man. It’s just that he hides that unrestrained aura that young people have, and doesn’t display it easily.

Perhaps that’s the fetter of being a Captain.

Looking at these young people, I suddenly feel as though I’ve found the reason why my trial dishes have not been successful.

It’s probably because I’ve never tried to truly understand this group of young people.

[ Chapter Three ]

I’m no longer stubborn when it comes to the dishes. Instead, I pay more attention to observing the dietary habits of this group of young people. Gradually, many more pages on the notebook which I use to record modified recipes are written on.

Everything goes smoothly. However, I notice that Gavin hasn’t visited the cafeteria for meals in a long while.

When the red-haired officer comes to collect his food, I scoop pork ribs and winter melon soup for him, and find myself asking him a question.

“Why hasn’t your Captain been coming down to eat in the cafeteria these days?”

He scratches his head, his tone less carefree as before.

“Captain Gavin’s injuries from this mission were a little more serious, so he’s still getting treated in the hospital.”

Before coming to the STF, the word “injuries” was associated with a sliced finger from cutting vegetables, or being scratched while playing with a cat. But after coming to the STF, I realised that there are many other ways people can get hurt.

The STF has doctors who understand Evolvers most in the whole of Loveland City. Logically speaking, even if it’s a fracture or external bleeding, patients can typically be discharged in a week.

That young man called Gavin hasn’t appeared in such a long time. Is he severely injured?

Even though we haven’t exchanged many words, I can’t help but worry about that young man.

He’s still so young. If anything were to happen to him, how worried would his family members be?

Perhaps due to the fact that he was the first agent willing to try food from the cafeteria, I find myself being more concerned about him, and wanting to know more about him. However, STF agents are disciplined and strict. When they’re eating in the cafeteria, they rarely mention Gavin. When he’s occasionally brought up, they say things that I’m unable to understand.

“She went to the hospital again today.”

“That’s fine. Her presence at the hospital is much more useful than a few of us going. At least Captain Gavin would smile a little when he sees her. When we’re there, we’re like stalks of grain, and can do nothing but watch helplessly.”

“The next time the ‘Snake’ bites, we can’t let Captain Gavin hold the fort again.”

In the fog of their conversation, I’m unable to understand anything. I’m getting old, and my ears aren’t as useful. I shake my head, turning around and heading back into the kitchen.

-

Just when I think Gavin’s injuries have rendered him unable to return to the team, he appears.

While I’m writing the lunch menu on the whiteboard, I spot Gavin and his squad mates walking in together. He has become much thinner, and looks very pale. Even so, his entire frame remains as solemn as always, a sense of sharpness emanating from him.

When I hand him braised beef noodles, he gives me a nod.

“Thanks.”

He picks up the chopsticks and eats the noodles. When he sees the slices of beef in the bowl, he’s slightly stunned. However, he returns to normal in an instant, continuing to eat as usual.

When they’re halfway through eating, the communication device at Gavin’s waist suddenly beeps. He presses the communication device, his expression changing when he hears the message.

“The ‘Snake’ has left the hole. Take action.”

With his command, everyone abandon their meal and hurriedly leave the cafeteria.

When Gavin passes by me, I can see traces of blood on the side of his sleeve.

It appears that he’s leaving for a mission before his wounds have completely healed.

The cafeteria lapses into silence. I tidy the table, looking at the beef noodles which only had a few bites taken out of it, and let out a heavy sigh.

I know how difficult it is to join the STF. People who join the STF are so incredible. But I still wish to know what kind of reasons would make such a young person charge forward and risk his life to the point where he can’t even have a proper meal.

[ Chapter Four ]

It’s very late at night, but the STF remains brightly lit.

Similar to the busy agents, I haven’t left either.

After this period of research and testing dishes, I discovered that the people here aren’t picky. They simply lack the time to sit down and eat slowly.

With this in mind, I restart the dish modifications.

The television in the cafeteria is currently showing the Loveland News. The host is reporting on something about “Evol Assassination Incidents”, and is criticising how the STF hasn’t been doing anything about them.

“Things here are turning upside down from how busy they are, and the infirmary is filled with people. And you claim that they aren’t doing anything? Reporters are so irresponsible these days.”

I shake my head, switching the television off. After calling a few colleagues over, we carry supper to the infirmary.

Due to the incident the news was reporting about, the STF has been in a mess recently. I heard that there aren’t enough beds in the infirmary for use.

My heart aches from how these kids are getting criticised even after getting injured. I’ve prepared sweet soup suitable for evening consumption, bringing them to the infirmary while they get treated.

While passing by the Captain’s office, I notice that the door isn’t closed, and I see someone standing inside.

It’s Gavin.

His side is facing the door, his hair is messy, and he’s leaning against the wall. One of his legs is lifted up, and he’s currently pursing his lips as he removes his combat gloves.

He appears to have lacked sleep for several days, and quiet fatigue emanates from his entire frame.

However, he doesn’t seem to have shown this side of him to anyone outside, demanding himself to only leave this version of himself to an empty office in the depths of night.

I knock on the door. The moment he hears this, he quickly straightens up, his sharp gaze sweeping over. When he sees that it’s me, his amber eyes are stunned, and he nods.

“Please come in.”

Walking in, I place a bowl of snow fungus soup on his table.

“Everyone has been working hard in the bureau lately. We decided to make some sweet soup for all of you to relieve the fatigue. Drink this soup while it’s hot. There’s Chinese wolf berry and longan in it, so it’s pretty nourishing.”

Gavin nods. Stray hairs stick messily against the sides of his eyes and brows. I’m guessing that since he’s a kid who usually puts up a strong front, he probably doesn’t like others seeing his sorry state. I hurriedly wave my hands to signal that I’m leaving.

Before I walk out of the door, Gavin suddenly asks me a question.

“Aunt Wang, is your cafeteria recipe modification going smoothly?”

I can hardly believe that he actually remembered such a trivial matter.

Just how many things does he concern himself with?

“Very smoothly. I’ve been looking into a new fast-food style beef noodles, and plan to introduce it to the bureau.”

“Fast-food beef noodles?”

“Mm. There used to be very few people in the cafeteria because I only paid attention to maintaining the nutritional value of dishes. But if people don’t even have the time to eat, how can I talk about nutrition?”

“Right now, I’m looking into preparing beef noodles that are both nutritious and can be eaten really quickly. Such noodles are more diverse in flavour, and the nutritional value is easy to maintain.”

After saying all of this, I follow up with a question.

“But I'm still considering whether to use bean sprouts or eggs as a substitute. Which do you prefer?”

Perhaps few people have asked him something as trivial as his dietary preferences. He gives this very serious thought before providing a careful answer.

“I’d prefer eggs.”

I nod, then find myself giving him my sincere and earnest wishes.

“No matter how busy work is, you need to have proper meals. Even though rice and vegetables seem simple, they are part of life.”

“Whenever you head forward so urgently, have you ever thought of whether you might be forcing yourself too much?”

When Gavin hears this, he’s taken back. I don’t continue. With a sigh, I turn around and leave.

[ Chapter Five ]

The new fast-food beef noodles introduced in the canteen received a huge welcome amongst the agents. It became the favourite supper of agents who worked overtime on cases. Given the positive responses, I also released different flavoured fast-food products. 

With this signature dish, the STF canteen finally became lively every day.

But the strange things is, I didn’t see Gavin for a very long time. I heard that he... temporarily relieved himself of his duties.

I have no idea what happened, but I trust that he had his reasons, and I silently hope that the kid can be safe.

Afterwards, a strange fog enveloped Loveland City. I was protected by STF agents, and later heard that Gavin was the one who retrieved the fog.

-

I’m just about to prepare dinner in the cafeteria when I hear the news that Gavin’s in the hospital. News related to the STF’s retrieval of the fog is being broadcasted, and Gavin’s powerful and resounding voice can be heard.

“This round of the Hunter Game is over.”

I lift my head to see that familiar figure on the television, determined and composed.

“Thank you all for protecting the dignity of this city.”

When he had meals in the cafeteria before, I often wondered how this taciturn young man could persevere on his own, shouldering high pressure that ordinary people find difficult, and also protect tens of thousands of ordinary people.

Right now, I understand.

It’s because he has a heart of justice that’s gentler and more unwavering than anyone else - 

And this heart has guided him onto a path destined to be rugged, where he will pursue justice with no second thoughts.

But I’m still a little puzzled. Doesn’t he find it lonely when walking down this path?

With the assistance of the red-haired agent, I carry chicken wonton soup to Gavin’s hospital ward.

The door is closed, and I can hear an indistinct voice of a girl drifting from the inside.

From across the glass, I see a girl sitting at the bedside, a pink bento box on the table.

The girl is resting a hand against her cheek while supervising Gavin as he eats the bento. Meanwhile, the young man sitting on the bed is eating it one mouthful at a time, earnestly and tenderly.

For some reason, I find myself grinning.

On this path filled with ups and downs, someone is willing to accompany him, wait for him, sit down together with him, and have a serious, proper meal with him.

I leave the hospital with the thermos box.

Being here for so many days, I’ve grown used to this place, grown used to the whistle at 6.30am in the morning, grown used to the agents finishing their meals within ten minutes and rushing off, and grown used to the lights in STF illuminating my path like starlight when I’m heading home at night.

My old companion often asks why an oldie like me continues going to the STF. 

It’s because I can see a broader world here. I can see souls with determined spirits. I’ve never felt more alive and fulfilled in my entire lifetime.

This is the meaning that STF gives me.

I hope that the young man called Gavin, as well as the countless young people who are like Gavin, will always lead a fulfilling life.

...and that they may always be safe.

May he, along with the girl he watches silently, return to life through every meal while embracing justice.

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