#but i walked away from the discord call and when i came back they had changed servers and are playing with someone i dont know

[spikedfearn]

All That's Left Is Yours

Part I

Walter "Lion" Kaminski x fem!reader

summary: Walter Kaminski doesn't know how to be loved without bracing for impact. A washed-up fighter living out of motel rooms and underground leagues, he's spent years surviving hits—in the ring, from his brother, from the world. But when you, a runaway with a sharp mouth and a sharper gaze enters his orbit, everything starts to tilt. The closer you get, the more Walter fears what his hands—trained to hurt, never to hold—might do.

wc: 8k

a/n: I’ve been working through Jack O’Connell’s filmography and the Remmick Discord recently did a group watch of Jungleland—and wow. I knew I was going to love it, but I didn’t expect Walter to tug at my heartstrings the way he did 😭 Dedicated to Liz @fuckoffbard for both beta reading and crafting the banner, you dropped something queen 👑

Disclaimer: You DO NOT need to watch Jungleland to read this fic but I highly recommend giving it a watch, Jack absolutely crushes it!!

warnings: emotional trauma, abusive family dynamics, sibling codependency, past drug use (mentioned), PTSD, fighting/violence, sub!Walter, praise kink, past physical abuse (mentioned), hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, angst with smut, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, unsafe living conditions, unhealthy coping mechanisms, toxic sibling relationship, trauma bonding as a form of intimacy

likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, please enjoy!!

Fic Masterlist/Masterlist

Part I: Roadside Attraction

The soda machine clicked, rattled, then swallowed your crumpled dollar like it was nothing. No fizz, no reward. You stared at the red-lit buttons like they owed you something, like they might start speaking and tell you what the hell to do next. But they stayed quiet. Just like you.

It was cold for a desert night. Not cold enough to shiver, but enough that the concrete seeped into your spine as you curled up beneath the flickering fleabag motel sign, your back pressed to the blocky warmth of the vending machine. Your toes were bare and caked with dry blood and gravel. You’d ditched the shoes miles ago, traded them for a gas station sandwich and a bottle of vodka that had long since burned its way through your gut.

You didn’t look up when the footsteps stopped. Not until the low voice cut through the hum of the highway:

"You planning to stay there all night?"

His voice was worn down and gritty, like it had been soaked in whiskey and rung out. The kind of voice that came from a man who’d been punched more times than he could count and still stood tall about it, vowels rough around the edges courtesy of a northeastern accent.

You didn’t answer.

A shadow blocked the light overhead. Broad shoulders. Lean build. Knuckles taped. Face half-hidden under a hoodie, but even in the neon sputter you could see the bruises painting his cheekbone. Left eye a little puffy. A fighter. And not the shiny kind with sponsors and cameras. This one was all backroom and blood.

"I’m not gonna call anyone," he said, voice low. "But you’ll freeze out here."

You looked up. He looked back. It wasn’t pity in his eyes. You would’ve spat on him if it was. No, it was something worse. Recognition. Like he knew the way it felt to run until your legs gave out. To keep your back to the past until the ache in your spine turned permanent.

He fished into his pocket, pulled out a motel key. Room 8.

"I’m not gonna ask," he added. "You want a shower and a bed, it’s yours. I sleep on the floor anyway."

Still, you didn’t move. Not until he dropped the key on the concrete beside you. He didn’t wait. Just turned and walked away, boots scraping the pavement, the bruised side of his face catching the light before he vanished around the corner.

The key dug into your palm when you pushed open the warped motel door.

Room 8 smelled like stale cigarette smoke and borrowed time. The air conditioner rattled like it was dying. There was one bed, neatly made. The sink dripped.

You didn’t see him inside.

The bathroom light buzzed weakly as you flipped the switch. You caught your reflection in the mirror and winced—blood dried at your temple, mascara smeared down your cheeks like you’d been crying even when you hadn’t. The hoodie you wore (not yours, never yours) hung off your shoulders like it didn’t belong.

The water was lukewarm, the pressure shit. But you stepped in anyway.

You peeled off the hoodie and your ragged shirt. The water hit your skin and stung where you were scraped up, but it felt like something real. Something cleansing. You let your forehead press to the motel tile, inhaled mildew and rust, and exhaled the memory of someone screaming your name from a porchlight you never wanted to return to.

Outside, you heard the soft thud of boots on concrete again. Then a lighter flick. The faint, sharp tang of smoke drifting through the thin walls.

You didn’t need to look to know he was right outside the door, leaning against the rail, smoking something cheap, flexing bruised hands with every drag. Trying not to think about you.

You were trying not to think about him.

You stepped out wrapped in one of the motel’s threadbare towels, the water still dripping down your thighs. The bathroom door creaked open. He didn’t turn to look. But he didn’t leave either.

You stood there a minute too long. Listening to his breath.

Both of you pretending like you weren’t listening for each other’s sounds. Like you hadn’t already started building something unnamed in the silence.

And still—he said nothing. Just one long drag of his cigarette, one slow exhale.

Like he was waiting to see if you'd come out again. Like maybe he didn’t want to sleep on the floor tonight after all.

You cleared your throat. Quiet, but just enough to cut through the buzz.

"I’m not staying long," you said. Your voice sounded raw.

He flicked ash into the night air. Still didn’t look at you. "Didn’t figure you would."

Another beat. You hated the silence more than you thought you would.

"You got a name?"

He turned his head then. Just slightly. His eyes met yours under the orange glow of the walkway light. They were tired. Bloodshot. But something flickered there.

"Lion," he said simply. "What about you?"

You hesitated. Names had power. Names meant someone could find you. But you told him anyway.

You watched his mouth twitch. Not quite a smile. Not yet.

He nodded once. "Alright then, sweetheart. Get some sleep."

And then he walked back inside. Left the door cracked. Just wide enough for you to follow.

You stood at the threshold, towel clutched like armor, bare feet planted on the motel carpet that smelled like mildew and cigarette ash. The door was cracked open just enough to catch the whisper of his presence—Lion’s shape slouched in the dark, the thin light from the bathroom stretching shadows across his back.

He didn’t look when you stepped inside. Didn’t say a word. But you felt the shift in the air. Like the way he dragged on that cigarette changed once he knew you were behind him. The silence filled in with something else—tension, heat, the thrum of two damaged people orbiting the same wreck.

You closed the door behind you with a soft click.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, cigarette smoldering between his fingers. The TV was off. The only light came from the slatted bathroom door behind you and the red eye of his smoke.

“I can take the floor,” you said, voice hushed, unsure why. Maybe because the quiet felt sacred. Maybe because you were still dripping, and every breath between you felt too loud.

His laugh was short and dry. “Already told you—I sleep like shit anywhere. Might as well let the floor take the fall for it.”

You didn’t move. Just stood there in your towel, skin goose-pricked from the AC groaning in the wall unit. Your gaze fell to his hands. Thick-knuckled, calloused, bandaged in places. Hands that didn’t know how to be gentle but maybe wanted to try.

“I’ll dry off. Then I’ll go.” You said it, but you didn’t mean it. Not really.

Lion finally turned his head. Looked at you. Really looked.

His eyes dragged over you slowly, not greedy—just tired and curious, like a man taking in something rare he didn’t know how to name.

“You bled through your bandage,” he murmured.

You glanced down. A dark blot of red soaked through the towel near your knee, the scrape reopened. You hadn’t noticed. Didn’t feel it over the slow pulse building in your core, the way his voice kept getting lower, rougher, the longer you stood there.

He reached for the ice bucket lid on the side table, turned it over, pulled a first-aid kit from beneath it. You hadn’t seen it earlier. He unscrewed the cap of a bottle of rubbing alcohol, then held it out without standing.

You stepped forward. Took the bottle. His fingers brushed yours. Just a flicker. But it lit something.

You knelt down in front of him—slow, deliberate. Not sexy. Not flirty. Just there. Between his knees, towel still clinging to your body, water still trailing from your hair onto your bare shoulders. You pulled the hem back enough to clean the scrape. His eyes never left your hands.

Neither of you said a word.

He flicked the cigarette out into the metal ashtray beside him. His hand dropped to his thigh. Rested there. Twitching just slightly.

“You do this a lot?” you asked after a beat, voice barely above a whisper. “Pick up strays?”

He exhaled slow. “Only the ones with a mean left hook.”

That made your mouth twitch. You shook your head, but you didn’t move away.

“You gonna ask what happened?”

“Nope.”

“You wanna know?”

“Yep.”

You looked up at him then. Close enough now that your knees brushed his boots. He smelled like soap from a gas station bathroom and sweat soaked into cotton. Tobacco. Musk. Blood. He looked down at you with something almost tender beneath all that fight-hardened bone.

“I can’t sleep either,” you said.

“I know.”

Another breath passed between you. It felt like a line in the sand. Like if you moved now, everything would change.

So you didn’t move. You stayed right there, with his knees bracketing you and the towel slipping lower down your back, and the heat of his stare holding you still.

And finally—finally—he said:

“You should get in the bed.”

Not a demand. Not a command. Just something raw and honest.

You hesitated.

And then you stood. Dropped the towel. Turned your back to him as you pulled the scratchy motel sheet up over your body, slipping between covers that still held his heat.

He didn’t follow.

But when the lights finally cut out, and the room went dark enough that you couldn’t see the ceiling for the silence, you felt it—his hand brushing your ankle. Just a graze.

Like he was checking you were real.

Like he needed to.

And something about it made your chest ache. Something about it made you wonder.

How often had he done that—reached out, quietly, carefully—just to see if something he cared about was still there? How many times had things disappeared on him without warning? How many hands had he held just long enough to feel them slip away?

You wondered if that was why he touched like that—soft, fleeting, like anything more would scare it off. Like permanence was a luxury he didn’t believe in.

The air conditioner sputtered its last breath sometime just before dawn.

You woke to stillness. Not the kind that soothed. The kind that pressed against your ears and made you too aware of your own heartbeat. The cheap motel sheets clung to your skin, itchy with dried sweat and the weight of someone else’s silence.

The light bleeding in through the blinds was soft—desert dawn pink and melted gold. Your eyes dragged across the ceiling, then to the empty space beside you. The bed was cold now.

Lion hadn’t slept in it.

Your gaze shifted to the floor.

He was stretched out on the thin motel carpet, one arm flung over his eyes to block the sun. His hoodie had been peeled off sometime in the night, wadded up beneath his head like a makeshift pillow. The rest of him—bare from the waist up—was bathed in the kind of early morning shine that made it hard to look away, fractals of light dancing off the gold pendant hanging down and resting against his sternum.

Lean. But cut with that kind of wiry strength earned from fists and failure. There was nothing polished about him. Nothing effortless. His body was a map of fights he didn’t win, of nights that left marks.

But what you noticed first wasn’t the bruises.

It was the ink.

A tattoo bloomed on his left side, stark black against the pale skin of his ribs. A budded cross—elegant, almost holy, but done in thick lines that stretched down to his hip bone. It followed the curve of his body with a precision that made your throat tighten.

It was the kind of tattoo that looked like it meant something.

The kind of tattoo someone might get when they had something to prove. Or something to grieve.

You sat up slowly, careful not to make the bed creak. But his voice cut through the quiet anyway—low, raspy from sleep.

“Didn’t mean to wake you.”

You looked down. He hadn’t moved his arm. But you could see the faint smirk at the corner of his mouth.

“You didn’t,” you lied.

“Liar.”

Your lips parted. You wanted to ask about the tattoo. You wanted to ask about a lot of things. But the morning air felt too fragile, like words might break it.

He finally pulled his arm away. Blinked up at you with those same tired, blue eyes. The bruising had darkened overnight—sick purple above his cheekbone now.

“You get any sleep?” you asked.

He rolled onto his side, elbow propped beneath his head. “Some.”

You nodded. Your fingers twisted on the edge of the motel sheet. He noticed.

“Don’t look so nervous,” he said, voice still rough. “I’m not gonna touch you.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“Not unless you ask.”

That made your breath catch.

“I wasn’t—” you started.

“You were,” he interrupted, not cruelly. Just honest. “It’s fine. You’re allowed to be nervous. I’m not exactly a picture of comfort.”

You let the silence sit for a moment.

“I saw your tattoo,” you said eventually.

That brought a real smile. Just a flicker.

“Yeah?” he asked, tone unreadable.

“It’s…unexpected.”

“People usually expect barbed wire or brass knuckles.”

“I expected nothing.”

That made his eyes narrow slightly. Not suspicious—just focused. Curious.

“Well,” he murmured, “you’re the first person to see it sober in a while. So congrats.”

You didn’t laugh. But you didn’t look away either.

The room was quiet again. Tense, but not sharp. Just stretched thin between two people who knew how to pretend nothing mattered. Who didn’t know what to do with the moments when something actually might.

He sat up slowly, every muscle moving like it remembered pain. His back cracked as he stretched.

“Want coffee?” he asked.

You blinked. “Here?”

He smirked. “There’s a machine in the lobby. Shit tastes like burnt tires, but it’s hot.”

You thought about it.

Thought about saying no.

But you didn’t.

“Yeah,” you said. “Okay.”

He grabbed his hoodie from the floor, dragged it on without looking at you again. But before he stepped outside, he paused. Hand on the doorknob.

“You can stay,” he said, quietly. “If you want.”

Then he left. The door creaked shut behind him.

You were alone again.

But it didn’t feel the same.

The crowd wasn’t loud—it was vicious.

Packed into a basement so humid the walls sweat blood, every shout felt like it came from somewhere deep in the throat. Somewhere animal. They didn’t cheer for skill. They didn’t want grace or footwork or strategy.

They wanted carnage. Blood.

Lion knew that before his fist ever hit the canvas.

His jaw ached from the first right hook, a bone-deep throb that crackled up to his temple. His opponent was a wall of meat and rage, a prison-yard brute with fists like cinder blocks. There was no technique. Just power. And Lion didn’t need his brother shouting from the side to know that power would win this crowd over long before heart ever did.

“Stop dancing and hit him!” Stanley barked from the corner, voice thick with panic disguised as anger. “You want him to walk all over you? Huh? Lion—get up!”

Lion spat blood. His vision shimmered. The world tilted just enough to make everything feel slightly wrong—too fast, too loud, too hot.

He got up anyway.

Because Stanley needed the money.

Because Stanley had smiled that fucking smile earlier that day and said, “This one’s easy, bro. Guy’s all show, no stamina. You just gotta take a few rounds, make it ugly, then put him down. Easy payday.”

Easy payday.

Lion barely registered the fourth hit that cracked his eyebrow open. He just felt the warm trickle down his temple, thick and wet, slipping into his eye. The crowd roared. The brute cracked his knuckles. Stanley screamed something else, but Lion couldn’t hear it.

He was already gone.

Gone into that space in his mind where it was just fists and fire. Where everything else fell away except the weight of his body and the will to keep standing. To not break.

Because he didn’t have the luxury of breaking.

Not when Stanley had already bet half of it.

Not when you were waiting, maybe still asleep in the motel bed, not knowing what the hell he’d gotten roped into.

You heard the door before you saw him.

He didn’t knock.

He just opened it like it was still his room—even though he’d let you keep the bed, even though he’d left hours ago with nothing but a promise of shit coffee and that quiet, bruised voice telling you you could stay if you wanted.

You were still in bed, half-dozing with the curtains cracked to let in the morning sun when he stumbled in.

Stumbled.

That was the only word for it.

His steps weren’t steady. They were uneven, like the world tilted just slightly under his boots and he hadn’t figured out how to stand on it yet.

You sat up fast. “Lion?”

He shut the door behind him and leaned against it like it was the only thing holding him upright.

His face was a mess.

Split brow. Eye swollen nearly shut. Blood crusted from his lip to his chin. His knuckles looked worse—skin torn open, bones shifting wrong under the stretch of bruised flesh. The same hands you’d cleaned less than twelve hours ago.

“What the hell happened to you?” you asked, heart dropping.

He didn’t answer. Just blinked slow, eyes locking onto you like he was making sure you were still there. Still real. Like the only thing that mattered was that you saw him like this—wrecked, standing, and silent.

“Sit down.” You were already sliding out of bed, grabbing the shitty motel towels and the first aid kit he’d used on you.

“I’m fine,” he rasped.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Been worse.”

You knelt in front of him anyway. He didn’t stop you.

You peeled his hoodie back, the fabric stiff with sweat and blood. His body flinched when you touched his ribs, and that’s when you saw it—another set of bruises blooming over his tattoo, new and angry. The budded cross twisted just slightly with every breath.

“Jesus, Lion…”

“I took a fight.”

“No shit you took a fight.”

You pressed a cold washcloth to his brow. He winced, but didn’t pull away.

“I didn’t think you were still fighting,” you said, softer this time.

He didn’t meet your eyes. “I wasn’t.”

You waited. The silence stretched.

“Then why?”

That’s when you heard it—a knock at the door. Two quick raps. Familiar. Confident.

Before you could move, Lion stood. Winced. Opened the door.

Stanley stood there. Sunglasses, too-white smile, a wad of cash folded in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

“Atta boy,” he said, like Lion had just passed a test.

Then he saw you.

And smirked wider.

“Well shit,” Stanley drawled, eyes dragging over you in nothing but one of Lion’s shirts. “Guess we’re celebrating, huh?”

Lion didn’t say a word.

But his jaw tightened.

Hard.

Stanley didn’t even pretend to stay long.

He made himself at home fast—lit a cigarette without asking, sat on the edge of the motel dresser like it was his throne, and slapped the wad of cash down beside the TV remote with a grin that made your skin crawl.

“Got another lined up for Friday,” he said, like he was talking about weekend drinks. “Same guy running the pit. Big payout this time.”

Lion stood with his hands braced on the bathroom door frame, head bowed slightly like he was willing himself to disappear into the wood. His knuckles were still bleeding. You hadn’t even finished bandaging him.

Stanley didn’t notice. Or he did and didn’t care.

“He’s a bruiser, but nothin’ you can’t handle,” Stanley went on, flicking ash on the floor. “And hey—if you go down in round three, we double. Bookies already think you're soft.”

Lion didn’t say anything. Not even a grunt.

You stepped forward, barely keeping the venom out of your voice. “He can’t even see out of one eye.”

Stanley looked at you like you were an amusing commercial break. “He’ll be fine. Lion always bounces back. Don’t you, bro?”

Still nothing.

Not a word.

Stanley stood up then, snagging the cash again. “I’ll hold this for now. Just so you don’t blow it on painkillers and whores.” A wink in your direction. “No offense.”

You didn’t flinch. But your fists clenched hard enough to pop your knuckles.

When the door shut behind him, it was like the air collapsed. Like all the tension that had been floating in the corners of the room finally snapped loose.

Lion didn’t move. Just stood there, staring at the place Stanley had been.

You crossed the room, slow and quiet, until you were right in front of him.

“Lion,” you said softly.

Still, he didn’t look at you.

“I don’t get it,” you whispered. “Why do you let him do this to you?”

His breath hitched.

And then he laughed.

But it was a dead thing. A broken thing. Like it had rotted in his throat and came out anyway.

“Let him?” he echoed, voice raw. “You think I let him?”

He finally looked at you then.

And something in his face had cracked wide open.

“This is all I have,” he said. “This is it. Motel rooms, blood money, and fights that don’t mean shit. I’ve been fighting since I could walk. And he’s the only one who ever put food in front of me after.”

“That’s not food,” you snapped. “That’s scraps. That’s chains dressed up like favors.”

He didn’t respond. Just ran a hand through his hair, pacing now.

“You think I don’t know that?” he muttered. “You think I don’t wake up every goddamn morning and wish I’d walked away ten years ago? That I hadn’t spent my whole life being dragged around by someone who just wants to be the brains behind my broken body?”

You didn’t know what to say.

So you stepped toward him.

And touched his face.

It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t even gentle. It was desperate. Anchoring. Real.

He leaned into it, just barely.

And for the first time, he looked like he might shatter.

“I’m tired,” he whispered.

You nodded.

“I know.”

The room was quieter after his outburst. Not peaceful—never peaceful—but quiet like the lull after a storm. You’d seen men blow up before, punch walls, throw chairs. Lion didn’t need any of that. His voice had done all the breaking.

Now he sat on the edge of the bed with his fists in his lap, head down, body humming with everything he hadn’t said. The anger. The guilt. The shame that clung to him like the blood drying on his skin.

You came back with the first-aid kit. Didn’t ask permission this time. You just dropped to your knees in front of him like you had the night before.

This time, he didn’t flinch when you touched him.

You worked slowly. Hands steady. The scrape above his eyebrow had crusted, but it split open again as soon as you wiped it. He didn’t hiss. Just stared at your face like the pain kept him grounded.

“Sorry,” you whispered when you dabbed too hard.

He shook his head. “Don’t be.”

You moved to his hands—those knuckles, those battered fingers. They were worse up close. One was likely fractured, swollen so bad the skin looked ready to burst.

“Jesus, Lion…”

He gave a tired half-smile. “I’ve had worse.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

That shut him up.

You wrapped his right hand carefully, fingers brushing the rough skin of his palm. He stared down at the top of your head as you worked, lips parted like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. You finished the left hand, taping it just tight enough.

When you looked up, he was already looking at you.

For a second, it was just that.

The light buzzed overhead.

The air conditioner kicked on, rattled, died again.

His thigh brushed yours.

And something shifted.

You don’t know who moved first. Maybe it was you, maybe it was him. Maybe it was always going to happen.

But his mouth was on yours and it was nothing like you expected.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t rough.

It was desperate.

Like he was trying to memorize the shape of your lips just in case the world took you away.

His hands—bandaged, trembling—cradled your jaw like you were something fragile. His kiss tasted like blood and salt and something quieter underneath. Something scared.

You kissed him back with both hands tangled in his hoodie, pulled him down to you like you needed him to feel how fast your heart was racing. How real it was.

When he finally pulled away, he didn’t go far. Just pressed his forehead to yours. Breathing heavy. Quiet. Real.

“I don’t go by it anymore,” he said, voice barely audible. “Haven’t in a long time.”

Your fingers curled against his thigh.

“But if you’re gonna stay—” he paused. Swallowed. “You should know.”

You didn’t say anything. Just waited.

His breath tickled your lips when he said it.

“Walter.”

You blinked.

“That’s my name. Walter Kaminski.”

You didn’t smile.

Didn’t tease.

Didn’t make it smaller than it was.

Instead, you whispered, “Hi, Walter.”

And for the first time since you met him, he looked like he didn’t want to run.

The warmth of his name still lingered on your tongue by the time night fell.

Walter.

You didn’t say it out loud again. Not yet. Not while he was already pulling back into himself, curling up in the corner of the room with a bag of ice on his side and a far-off look in his eyes like he was already bracing for what came next.

You’d made the bed for him.

He didn’t use it.

He stayed in the chair near the window, legs sprawled out, hoodie zipped halfway up like armor. The bandages on his hands were fresh, but you could already see the bruising underneath turning darker by the hour.

You sat on the edge of the bed, chewing your thumbnail, watching him in the reflection of the black screen of the TV. Neither of you had turned it on.

“Are you gonna take the fight?”

The question floated between you, suspended in the dusty air. It sounded smaller than you’d meant it to.

Walter didn’t answer right away.

You hated that you already expected that.

“Stanley’s not gonna let it go,” he muttered eventually. “If I don’t show, he loses money. If he loses money, he gets mean. And if he gets mean—he finds ways to make me pay anyway.”

You frowned. “He’s not your boss.”

“He is if I keep letting him be.”

You turned then, facing him fully. “Then stop.”

His jaw flexed.

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is.”

“No, it’s not,” he snapped, standing suddenly, the chair scraping loud against the laminate floor. “You think I don’t want to be done? You think I don’t want to walk away and disappear and never take another hit again?”

His voice cracked.

You didn’t flinch. You stood too. Right in front of him now.

“Then do it,” you said, voice low. “Stop letting him bleed you dry.”

“I owe him.”

“You don’t.”

He stared at you like he didn’t recognize you. Like you were something that shouldn’t have stepped into his world but did anyway, and now he didn’t know what the hell to do with you.

He turned away. Punched the dresser with his bandaged hand. Didn’t even curse. Just breathed heavy through his nose like he was holding back more than blood.

“I don’t know how to be anything but this,” he said finally. “I don’t know how to be someone you stay with if I’m not fighting.”

You crossed to him. Placed a hand on his back. Felt him flinch and stay all at once.

“You don’t have to know yet,” you whispered. “You just have to try.”

Silence.

Then: “Stanley booked the motel through the weekend.”

You exhaled slowly. “So we’ve got a few days.”

He turned, looked at you again.

Soft. Wrecked. Open.

“Yeah,” he said. “A few days.”

The motel lobby was quiet.

Desert quiet—heat pressed against the glass, flies buzzing near the snack rack, an old box fan rattling against the check-in desk. You stood there, fingers curled around a styrofoam coffee cup, waiting for the guy behind the counter to stop pretending he wasn’t watching you.

“Can I help you?” you asked finally.

The clerk—mid-forties, bored eyes, receding hairline—shrugged. “Nah. Just didn’t expect to see you come outta Room 8 this morning.”

You blinked. “Okay…”

He smirked. “You his girl or something?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

“Didn’t mean anything by it,” he said quickly, hands raised. “Just—he’s usually alone. Or with the other one. The loud guy in sunglasses. You’re new.”

You didn’t answer.

Didn’t owe him one.

Just grabbed a second cup of that awful burnt coffee and walked out.

But the words followed you.

You his girl or something?

Walter was sitting on the hood of a rusted-out car behind the motel, shirtless in the sun, knees pulled up and cigarette dangling from his mouth. The bruises on his ribs had ripened into something nasty. The bandage on his hand was already fraying.

You handed him the coffee. He took it without a word.

“You alright?” you asked.

He nodded.

Then squinted. “Why?”

You shrugged, sitting beside him. “Motel guy asked if I was your girl.”

He paused.

You didn’t look at him, but you could feel the way his whole body stilled. Like you’d reached under his skin and pressed on something he hadn’t let anyone near in a long time.

“What’d you say?” he asked.

“Didn’t.”

He flicked ash off the hood. “Good.”

“Why? That hard to believe someone might care about you?”

Silence.

Then: “It’s not that.”

You turned to look at him.

He finally looked back.

“It’s that people who care about me don’t stay,” he said. “And when they try, they get hurt.”

Your throat tightened.

“I’m still here,” you whispered.

“Yeah.” He stared at you for a long second. “That’s what scares me.”

Stanley showed up like he always did—loud, smug, and uninvited.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed folding the same two clean shirts Walter owned when the knock came. He barely glanced at the door before dragging it open.

“Look at you,” Stanley crowed, stepping into the room like it belonged to him. “Didn’t think you’d be up. You take a nap or a beating?”

Walter didn’t laugh.

You stayed quiet.

Stanley’s eyes slid to you. “Ah. She’s still here.”

You didn’t like the way he said that—like you were a stray dog who hadn’t wandered off yet.

“She got a name?” Stanley asked, looking at Walter now.

“Yeah,” Walter said flatly. “She does.”

Stanley waited, eyebrow raised. No answer.

You could see it coming. The moment when curiosity soured into suspicion. When Stanley tilted his head just slightly and looked at you like you were a piece of something valuable. Something vulnerable.

“You gonna tell me who she is, or should I guess?” he said with a crooked smile.

And before you could open your mouth—before you could laugh it off or lie or do anything to defuse the moment—Walter stepped forward.

Not fast. Not dramatic.

But purposeful.

His hand came to your waist.

Fingers warm, firm, curling just enough to make the gesture unmistakable. Possessive. Protective. Territorial.

Yours.

You felt it like a punch to the gut.

And so did Stanley.

The look in his eyes shifted—something calculating, something darker. Like he’d just found another way to get at Walter if he ever needed it.

But Walter didn’t let go.

He just looked at his brother, jaw set, mouth a tight line.

Stanley grinned. “Well, shit.”

And then he left.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the spell broke.

Walter let go.

You turned slowly.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said.

He met your eyes. “Yeah, I did.”

You wanted to ask why.

But you already knew.

Because you were becoming something Stanley could use.

And Walter? He was already starting to care too much to let that happen.

The motel room creaked with the kind of stillness that wasn’t peace.

Just a low hum of things unsaid, hanging between the chipped walls and the uneven floorboards. The TV was off. The coffee was cold. And Walter hadn’t moved in over an hour.

He was sitting in the same chair near the window, elbows on his knees, knuckles pressed against his mouth like he could hold himself in with just that much pressure. His bruises had darkened. The side of his face was turning a sick kind of gold under the pale light.

You watched him from the bed.

He hadn’t spoken since Stanley left.

Not even when you offered him food. Not when you handed him water. Not when you pressed your palm against the small of your back like it hurt to watch him sit so still.

He didn’t even blink when the ice bucket finally gave up its last sigh of melt.

You stood, bare feet ghosting over the worn motel carpet. Crossed the room without saying anything. And this time, when you knelt in front of him, it wasn’t to tend wounds or wipe blood off his skin.

You just wanted him to see you.

To feel you.

“Walter,” you said, quiet but certain.

His eyes flicked up. Hollow. Distant.

Until they met yours.

And everything in him shifted.

You climbed into his lap without asking.

Straddled his thighs, hands curling around the sides of his jaw. You didn’t kiss him—not yet. You just pressed your forehead to his and breathed him in.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you whispered.

He exhaled, shaky and sharp. Like he’d been holding it in since the door closed.

“I’m still figuring this out,” he said.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“You won’t.”

A beat passed.

Then you felt it—his hands coming to your hips, tentative at first, like he still wasn’t sure he was allowed to hold something that hadn’t already slipped through his fingers.

Your hands slid up into his hair. His mouth brushed yours.

The kiss came slow.

Not like last time.

Not like need.

Like relief.

Like a man who’d been starving for a touch that didn’t come with strings. Like someone who finally understood what it meant to be wanted without it costing anything.

You broke it first. Just long enough to whisper, “Come to bed.”

He hesitated.

“I don’t sleep well,” he murmured. “I—I move. I twitch. Sometimes I talk.”

“I don’t care.”

“I don’t want to scare you.”

“You won’t.”

That’s when he let go.

Of the guilt.

Of the fear.

Of whatever ghosts he’d been keeping curled in his chest like fists.

He let you take his hand. Let you lead him to the bed. Let you pull back the sheets and lie beside him in the dark.

He didn’t touch you at first.

But when you curled into his side, he pulled you in with one arm and held you tight. Like he was afraid someone might come through the door and take you away.

And when he finally spoke, voice hoarse and half-asleep, it was just three words:

“Just stay, alright?”

You didn’t answer.

You just stayed.

The room was dark except for the amber lamp on the nightstand, humming soft against the silence.

Walter lay on his back, one arm tucked under his head, the other resting across his stomach where the bruises looked like spilled ink under his skin. You were curled beside him, the motel blanket tangled somewhere around your calves. Neither of you had slept. Not really. Not since that night.

Not since you crawled into bed with him and didn’t leave.

You could feel him vibrating beneath the stillness—like his body never fully powered down, even when he was quiet. Like he was always waiting for something to blow.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked, voice low in the hush.

He didn’t open his eyes. “Didn’t expect to.”

You turned on your side, propping yourself on your elbow, watching the way his throat moved when he swallowed.

“Tell me something,” you whispered.

He smirked faintly, one eye cracking open. “That broad of a request might get you in trouble.”

“I mean it. Anything. Anything you’ve never told anyone.”

He stared at the ceiling again. The air shifted.

A long, thin silence stretched between you.

Then—

“When I was thirteen,” he said slowly, “I found a dog behind a liquor store. Just a mutt. I named her Ash. She used to sleep under the trailer with me when things got bad. Only thing that made it feel like something might actually care if I didn’t wake up one day.”

You said nothing. Just listened. Let him bleed.

“I kept her for years. Stanley knew. He knew how much she meant to me. Last year, when things got tight, he sold her.”

You blinked. The way he said it—casual, empty—was worse than if he’d cried.

“He didn’t even tell me first. I came back from a fight and she was gone. Asked where she was. He said he traded her for rent and a bag of pills.”

A breath.

You reached over and traced the edge of his ribs—gentle, featherlight. He didn’t stop you.

“I didn’t talk to him for a month,” he said. “Slept outside. Ate canned corn out of a goddamn dumpster. He didn’t say sorry. Not once. Just told me next time not to get attached to things I couldn’t afford to keep.”

Your hand stilled against him.

“You don’t flinch,” he said, quietly.

You met his eyes. “Why would I?”

He looked at you like you were something rare. Something delicate he didn’t know how to hold.

“You gonna ask me why I ran?” you whispered.

He nodded, but didn’t push.

“My stepdad hit my mom. Cops came. Left. I told her to leave him. She didn’t. He hit me next.”

Walter sat up a little, jaw flexing.

“I packed a backpack and didn’t look back.”

“Jesus,” he breathed.

“I lived in my car for three months before I found you.”

He looked at you like he was trying to figure out what that meant. What you meant.

You reached over and slid your fingers under his bandaged hand.

“You’re allowed to be rough with me, Walter,” you said. “I won’t break.”

He looked down at where your fingers laced with his.

And for once—he didn’t pull away.

You didn’t let go of his hand.

Even as the silence settled heavy again, even as Walter leaned back against the motel headboard like he didn’t trust his body to do what he wanted it to. Your fingers stayed threaded with his—warm and sure, firm enough to say you’re safe without ever speaking the words.

He kept looking at you like he didn’t know what the hell to do with that.

“You ever touch someone just to see if they’d flinch?” he asked quietly.

You shook your head. “You?”

“Yeah,” he rasped. “Used to. When I was a kid. Just light. Shoulder, hand, whatever. Like—like if they didn’t flinch, maybe they didn’t think I was bad yet.”

Your stomach twisted.

You reached out, and this time, you brought his hand to your mouth.

Kissed the inside of his wrist. The rough plane of his knuckles. The pad of each finger, slow and deliberate. He watched you the whole time, breathing shallow and tight, like your lips were unraveling him one soft kiss at a time.

When you took his index and middle finger into your mouth, he choked on a sound. One you’d never heard from him before.

It wasn’t a moan.

It was a whimper.

You sucked slow—just the tips—warm and wet and careful, lips gliding down to your knuckles, your tongue dragging just enough to make him twitch. His thighs shifted. His breath hitched. His eyes slammed shut.

“Fuck,” he whispered, like he wasn’t supposed to feel this good.

You pulled off with a pop and kissed the fingertips again, then brought them down between your legs.

Guided him over your panties, soaked through now.

“I want you to touch me,” you said. “But I want it to be your idea.”

He looked at you like he was about to fall apart.

Like he was already halfway there.

“I’m scared I’ll fuck it up,” he admitted, voice barely there.

“You won’t.”

“You’re not—” he swallowed. “You’re not just a distraction.”

“I know.”

“You’re not just some girl who wants a broken boy story to tell later?”

It was a question disguised as a statement, like he was afraid to know the answer.

You took his wrist again, placed his hand just where you needed it.

And rocked your hips once—slow, deliberate—against the heat of his fingers.

“I’m yours,” you whispered.

That broke something open in him.

He pushed your panties aside, tentative at first—like he didn’t quite believe he had permission. But when he slid one slick finger through your folds and felt how wet you were for him, how ready, the sound that tore from his throat was pure disbelief.

“Christ,” he muttered, eyes locked to your face now. “You feel—God, baby.”

You whimpered, grinding down against his hand, your fingers clutching the edge of the mattress for balance.

He was gentle. So gentle. Too gentle.

You pressed your mouth to his ear. “Deeper.”

He obeyed.

You gasped.

He moaned with you.

Like your pleasure belonged to him.

Like the more you came apart, the more whole he felt.

He was panting by the time you pulled your panties down your legs and tossed them to the floor. His fingers were still wet from you, resting on his thigh like he didn’t know what to do next—like he was trying not to come just from the sight of you crawling into his lap.

You straddled him slow.

Bare thighs bracketing his hips.

His back hit the motel headboard with a dull thud, and he looked up at you like you were something holy. Something terrifying. His bandaged hands hovered in the air like he didn’t trust himself to touch without ruining it.

But you didn’t look away.

Not once.

Your eyes locked to his and stayed there—steady, warm, full of something he didn’t know how to name.

You reached between you, wrapped your hand around him. He was already hard, twitching against your palm, flushed deep red at the tip like he’d been aching for you since the second you kissed him.

Walter gasped when you stroked him. His hips bucked.

“Jesus,” he whispered, jaw clenched tight. “You’re so—fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

You lined him up with your entrance and sank down slow. Inch by inch. Taking your time. Letting him feel every slick, tight second of it.

His eyes never left yours.

He moaned through gritted teeth, fists clenched at his sides like he was holding onto control by a thread.

“Look at me,” you said, even though he already was.

“I am,” he breathed. “Fuck, I am. I can’t stop.”

You rocked your hips once, slow and deep, and watched his mouth drop open. His head tipped back for just a moment—overwhelmed—but you cupped his jaw and brought him back.

“Keep looking.”

His hands rose like instinct—found your waist, your hips, then froze.

“Can I…?” he rasped.

You nodded.

He gripped you then. Soft, trembling, reverent.

You started to ride him slow.

Long, deliberate rolls of your hips, grinding down until his breath came in short, desperate bursts. You tightened around him with every movement, dragging him deeper, drowning him in you.

The sound he made was barely human.

You leaned in, your forehead against his, lips brushing but never fully kissing.

“Good?” you whispered.

His grip tightened.

“So good,” he choked. “Fuck, baby—ride me—ride me just like that. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

You held his gaze the whole time. Watched it flicker and soften. Watched it fill with everything he didn’t know how to say.

Then you started to bounce properly—your thighs working, your body rising and falling in rhythm, slick and full and relentless.

His mouth dropped open again, breath catching.

You whispered right into his ear.

“You’re doing so good for me, Walter. Such a good boy. Taking me so deep.”

He whimpered.

“You feel so good inside me. Perfect. Just like this.”

“Jesus Christ,” he gasped, head falling back. “Say it again—please—”

You gave it to him.

“You’re so good. My sweet boy. Just like that. Don’t stop. You’re making me feel so good, baby.”

He was trembling under you. Entire body tense, fingers digging into your hips like he was afraid to come without permission.

“I’m gonna—” he started, voice breaking. “Fuck, I’m gonna—should I pull out?”

You grabbed his face.

Shook your head slow.

“No. I want it. I want you.”

His eyes went wide—wild with it.

“You sure?” he rasped.

You ground down once more and whispered:

“Cum in me, Walter.”

He shattered.

Moaned your name, low and ragged, as he came inside you—deep, hot, shuddering through the kind of release that felt like surrender. His mouth was against your collarbone, panting, praising you through every wave.

“Atta girl…” he groaned, arms wrapping around you like he couldn’t bear to let you go. “Atta girl… took me so good…my girl…my fucking girl.”

You stayed right there, hearts pounding against each other, skin warm and damp.

And when he kissed you—soft, grateful, still breathless—it felt like something permanent.

You didn’t move.

Not at first.

The world had gone still in the soft aftershock, the motel room hazy with heat and breath and the smell of sweat and skin. Your thighs were still wrapped around him, his hands spread wide over your back like he didn’t trust gravity to keep you from slipping away.

He was still inside you. Still pulsing. Still trembling.

Walter exhaled into your shoulder. A sound more like relief than release.

You buried your fingers in the sweat-damp hair at the nape of his neck and kept your face tucked in close. Not to hide. Just to be near. Closer than close. You could feel his heart hammering against yours like he hadn’t come down yet. Like he didn’t want to.

His voice came low, cracked open.

“Never done that before.”

You blinked. “What?”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, but his arms didn’t loosen.

“Let someone stay.”

You studied him. His lashes were wet at the tips. His mouth was pink and kiss-bruised. The flush on his cheeks hadn’t faded.

“Does it feel wrong?” you asked softly.

“No.” His voice caught. “Feels like I’m gonna wake up and find you gone.”

You shook your head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He nodded, but you could see how much it cost him to believe you.

His hand came up to your face then—rough, bandaged, trembling at the edges—and he touched you like he wasn’t sure you were real. Thumb ghosting over your cheekbone. Fingertips tracing the line of your jaw.

“Why me?” he asked. Not self-pitying. Just raw.

“Because I see you,” you said.

He closed his eyes.

You kissed him. Gentle this time. Deep and unhurried, like you were sealing something in place.

When you finally eased off of him, he pulled you close again, curling around your body like instinct. Your head tucked into the hollow of his throat, his hand flat over your spine.

You felt safe there. And you knew, in the way his arms didn’t loosen, that he felt it too.

“Stay with me,” he whispered into your hair. “Even if I don’t know how to be good at this. Even if I fuck it up.”

You didn’t hesitate.

“I already am.”

[rootedinrevisions]

Sweet Tea & Sunsets

Summary: When Jake “Hangman” Seresin brings his girlfriend home to Texas for the first time, she steps into a world of wide open skies, loud sibling laughter, and a deck that holds more stories than the family photo albums. Between grilled dinners under string lights, sweet tea on the deck, and the kind of teasing that only comes from real love, she begins to see a softer side of the Navy pilot.

Warnings: Light alcohol use.

Word Count: 2,831

Author's Note: This is my first of 4 entries for the Summer Writing challenge I signed up for as part of @echoingbirdsofprey 's Discord! If you are a fanfic writer (or writer of any kind or just enjoy talking to really cool people like myself) feel free to shoot her a message to get the link to join! Hope you guys enjoy!

Prompt: Eating Outside

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

The sun hung low in the sky, casting everything in gold as Jake eased the truck up the long gravel driveway. You could smell the dry earth, the faint sweetness of freshly mowed grass. Beyond the windshield, a white farmhouse came into view. It was modest but charming with a wide porch wrapped around it.

Jake shifted the truck into park, then exhaled.

“This is it” he said, smiling softly as he looked over at you.

There was something different about him in that moment. The lines on his face had seemed to soften. Here he wasn’t Hangman. He was just Jake.

You stepped out into the warm evening air, the cicadas already buzzing in the trees on the edge of the property. You made your way to the front of the truck, and Jake met you there. He reached for your hand, and once your fingers laced together, he didn’t let go.

“You ready?” He asked as he walked you up toward the porch.

Laughter drifted out through the screen door. You took a deep breath, feeling some nerves start to bubble inside you.

“Come on,” he murmured, his voice low and certain. “They’re gonna love you.”

Before you even realized what was happening the front screen door subpoenaed.

“Jakey!” A little voice squealed, and then a blur of pink launched off the porch steps.

Jake let go of your hand as he laughed, and reached down to scoop up the tiny little body mid-run.

“There’s my Lilah bug!” He said, spinning her once before settling her on his hip. 

From the porch, a hound dog howled once before bounding down the steps, ears flapping. Another set of little feet followed, trying and failing to corral the redbone puppy at his heels.

“Duke! No! Don’t jump! DUKE!”

Jake reached for your hand just as the pup came skidding across the gravel. You gripped his fingers tightly, caught between laughing and dodging paws.

“Easy, buddy,” Jake said, dropping a hand to scratch behind the puppy’s ears. “He’s bigger than last time.”

“So’s your ego,” called a voice from the porch. A woman stood with one hand on her hip and a glass of sweet tea in the other.  You assumed from her appearance that it was Hallie, Jake’s older sister. “Took you long enough to come home.”

Behind her, a flurry of voices rose as the screen door banged again. A small army emerged: Dustin, Hallie’s husband, smiling shyly behind her. Brooks, Jake’s nephew, panting from chasing the dog.  Linda, Jake’s mom, wiping her hands on a dishtowel as she stepped forward, eyes locked on her son.

Jake’s grip on your hand didn’t loosen, not even as the chaos swirled around you.

“Hi, Mama,” he said, voice softening.

Linda didn’t speak right away. She just wrapped her arms around him and held tight for a moment too long. Then she stepped back and looked you over with kind, curious eyes.

“So this must be the girl we’ve heard about,” she said. “I’m Linda. Come here, sugar, give me a hug.”

Before you could blink, you were swept into a warm hug. Linda pulled back with a smile full of genuine welcome. “You hungry? We’ve got lots of food and cold beer, and Cheryl made her famous potato salad.”

“Aunt Cheryl?” Jake asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Inside already,” Hallie said. “Trying to keep Pops from sneaking peach cobbler before dinner.”

As if on cue, the screen door creaked open again.

“Look what the wind blew in.” A tall, broad shouldered man stepped out from behind the screen door, a cane in one hand and a beer in the other. His white hair curled around his ears, and his eyes, green just like Jake’s, twinkled with something both sharp and soft.

“Pops,” Jake said, releasing your hand long enough to hug him tight. “Still kickin’, huh?”

“Still drinkin’, too,” Hank replied. “Though I’d trade this beer for five minutes in that plane of yours.”

Jake’s face softened, and he nodded. “One day, Pops.”

Just then, the screen door banged again.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” a woman with bright pink lipstick and wild curls said, stepping out and adjusting her sunglasses. “If it isn’t my favorite nephew.”

“You only have one,” Jake shot back.

She grinned. “Exactly.”

The porch burst into laughter. A dog barked. Someone yelled from the kitchen about sweet tea. And in the midst of it all, Jake looked at you like he’d never been more at home.

* * * * *

The back deck looked like something out of a southern summer postcard. String lights crisscrossed overhead, glowing golden against the slowly darkening sky. The sun had dipped just low enough to cut the heat, leaving behind the kind of warmth that clung to bare shoulders and made cold drinks taste colder.

The long wooden table was already half covered in mismatched dishes—bowls of baked beans, coleslaw, someone’s famous mac and cheese, and a tray of deviled eggs that were down to their final four. Mason jars full of sweet tea and lemonade sweated in the center, right next to a six-pack of Lone Star that had clearly been raided more than once.

Jake stood at the grill like he owned the place, spatula in hand and a beer tucked into the crook of his arm. You sat at the table, angled to watch him work, but also to take in the symphony of chaos happening around you.

Brooks and Lilah were weaving between legs, still hyped up from Jake’s arrival, and Duke the puppy was following behind with his nose to the ground like a bloodhound on a mission. Pops sat in a rocking chair near the edge of the deck, plate already in hand because “ain’t no reason to wait when you’re damn near ninety,” and Maggie curled at his feet like she hadn’t moved in hours.

Linda floated in and out of the sliding door, replenishing drinks, giving the kids warnings they completely ignored, and somehow still managing to get the napkins folded just right.

“Food’s up!” Jake called a few minutes later, and chairs scraped back from the table like a starting pistol had gone off.

Plates were passed, burgers stacked high with tomato slices and onions, and the scent of grilled meat mixed with the warm honey-butter rolls Aunt Cheryl brought in foil-covered baskets. You didn’t even realize how hungry you were until your first bite, and suddenly everything tasted like comfort.

“So,” Linda started, eyeing you across the table, “You’ve seen Jake in a flight suit, but have you seen him in a batting helmet with braces and a black eye?”

You choked on your sweet tea and looked at Jake, who just shook his head.

“No, but now I want to.”

“Please tell her the story, mom,” Hallie begged. “This one’s my favorite.”

Jake groaned and leaned back in his chair, beer in hand. “Y’all don’t have to scare her off on day one.”

“Oh, this won’t scare her. This’ll just make her smarter,” Hallie replied.

Jake’s mom leaned forward. “Picture it: high school playoff game. Jake’s up to bat. Girl he’s been flirting with is watching from the bleachers, right? He’s showboating.”

“She smiled first,” Jake muttered under his breath.

“Anyway,” Linda continued, “he hits the ball, and sends it sailing over the fence. Starts running bases like he’s already in the major leagues. But the catcher? Mad. He thinks Jake showed him up. So he ‘accidentally’ elbows Jake in the jaw as he’s rounding home.”

Jake pointed his beer bottle at her. “He got benched for that, by the way.”

“Jake falls flat on his ass, and gets a black eye,” Hallie added. “Still got the girl, though.”

“He did,” Linda said. “Took her to prom even.”

“Did she dump you the next day?” Hallie asked sweetly.

“No,” Jake said, nudging your knee under the table. “She dumped me two days later.”

You covered your mouth, trying not to laugh, but it was impossible. The mental image was too good.

Jake leaned toward you a moment later, his voice low so only you could hear. “Wanna know the real story?”

You turned, chin resting on your hand. “Obviously.”

“I hit that homer. Did the whole smug jog, sure. But the catcher and I had beef. I’d been talking trash all season. That elbow wasn’t an accident.”

You grinned. “So you earned the black eye.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But she kissed me after, and said it made me look rugged.”

You snorted into your drink. “Of course she did.”

Jake’s hand slid over your knee under the table, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles. He looked more relaxed here than anywhere you’d ever seen him.

Pops cleared his throat from the other side of the deck. “Don’t let ‘em fool you,” he said. “That boy’s always been a little too proud, but he’s got a good heart. He used to carry his grandma’s groceries three blocks in July heat just to keep her from walkin’. And he fixed Linda’s car when he was fifteen with a manual and a prayer.”

Jake groaned again. “Pops—”

“You hush,” Pops said, waving a fork. “She deserves to know what she’s getting into.”

Aunt Cheryl added, “What she’s getting into is a whole lotta trouble with that grin of his. But the boy shows up. Always has.”

You looked over at Jake then, and reached under the table to take his hand. He gave yours a light squeeze, and for a second the noise seemed to fade around you. For that second it felt like you and Jake were alone in the middle of it all.

Then Duke yelped, having discovered that one of the kiddos left a hot dog unattended, and had helped himself to it.

As the evening stretched on and plates emptied, the conversation turned loose and lazy, winding like the breeze through the oak trees. Someone cracked open another beer, and Linda disappeared inside for the peach cobbler. 

Jake leaned close and murmured, “C’mon, before they rope us into dishes,” with a conspiratorial grin. 

You didn’t hesitate. With fingers still laced through his, he led you through the back door and down the quiet hallway, his thumb brushing gently over yours. The moment you stepped onto the front porch, the air shifted. It was softer, quieter, just the two of you.

Jake took your hand and led you over to the old porch swing. As you sat, it creaked softly beneath you and Jake, swaying in slow rhythm as the evening cooled around your bare shoulders.

Jake leaned back, one arm stretched along the swing behind you. The other held a dripping bowl of vanilla ice cream, two spoons wedged inside.

You took one, scooping a bite of creamy sweetness and groaning softly at how cold and perfect it tasted.

Jake smiled. “Thought you might need dessert after surviving dinner interrogation.”

“You mean the roast of Jake Seresin?” you teased, nudging his knee with yours. “Honestly, it was the best show I’ve seen in months.”

He chuckled, spooning a bite for himself. “They’re relentless.”

“They love you.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, looking out at the driveway where the heat shimmer had finally faded. “They do.”

The porch swing rocked again. Crickets sang in the distance, and the stars blinked down through a haze of warm summer air. Jake went quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful as he scraped his spoon along the bowl.

You leaned your head against his shoulder. “You okay?”

Jake glanced over, a smile flickering at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah.”

You waited.

After a beat, he sighed and looked out over the yard. “I’m good. Just…it’s been a while since I was here like this.”

“Like this?” you echoed gently.

He was quiet for a moment. “With someone.”

You didn’t push, just let the silence fill the spaces he hadn’t found the words for yet.

Finally, he glanced down at his lap, thumb rubbing along the edge of the bowl. “I haven’t brought anyone home since high school. Not since Amber.”

Your brows lifted slightly. You’d heard the name before, just a few times in passing. A chapter he didn’t talk about much. A chapter you had learned not to ask about.

“She was part of this world,” he said, voice low. “Knew the way my mom folds laundry, knew how Pops takes his coffee, knew how to talk to Hallie without getting steamrolled.” He laughed quietly. “It felt easy back then. Familiar.”

You offered another small spoonful to him, and he accepted it with a half smile.

“I didn’t think I’d bring anyone else back,” he continued. “Didn’t think it’d feel right.”

Your voice was soft. “But it does now?”

Jake looked at you then, eyes catching the low golden glow of the string lights from around the house.

“Yeah,” he said. “It feels right with you.”

Your heart fluttered. You reached for the bowl again, scooping another bite and laughing when the melted edge dribbled down your chin.

Jake leaned in before you could wipe it away, thumb brushing gently across your skin, right at the corner of your mouth.

“Can’t take you anywhere,” he said, grin tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes, smiling as you handed him the bowl. “This counts as a date, you know. Eating ice cream under the stars with a view of your mom’s rose bushes.”

He gave an exaggerated nod. “Romantic. Possibly award worthy.”

You leaned in closer, voice low. “It kind of is.”

Jake’s face softened as he looked at you, one hand still cradling the bowl of mostly melted ice cream between you.

You smiled and leaned your head against his shoulder, the swing rocking gently beneath you.

“I like it here,” you whispered. “I like seeing this side of you.”

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “You’re still Hangman,” you said, teasing. “But you’re also just...Jake. And I really like him too.”

He squeezed your hand and leaned his cheek against your hair, and for a long moment, the two of you just rocked in the quiet, the stars above and the summer night all around you.

The porch swing had just started its lazy sway again when the screen door creaked open behind you.

Linda stepped out, a dish towel still slung over her shoulder, her expression soft in the warm glow of the porch light. She gave Jake a knowing look before turning her smile on you.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said gently, walking over. “Just wanted to let y’all know that I got Hallie’s old room made up for you, sweetheart. Fresh sheets, window open to catch the breeze.”

You sat up a little, touched by the thoughtfulness. “Thank you, that’s really sweet of you.”

Jake cleared his throat beside you. “That’s real nice, Mama. Though, you know, my room’s got a bigger bed,” he offered casually, with a faint smirk, like he was mostly joking... but maybe not completely.

Linda raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth twitching. “Your room also has that creaky ceiling fan. Wouldn’t want the poor girl being kept up all night.” She turned back to you with a wink. “A good night’s sleep in your own space never hurt anybody. Especially under my roof.”

You smiled, understanding exactly what she was saying, and appreciating how kindly she said it.

Jake held up his hands in mock surrender. “Yes ma’am.”

Eventually, the sounds from the backyard faded, the string lights dimming as the family began to drift inside. Jake gave your hand a gentle squeeze, then stood, offering it to you.

“C’mon,” he said, his voice soft. “Let’s head up.”

You followed him through the quiet house, past half empty glasses on the counter and a dish towel still draped over the sink. The air inside was cooler, the lights low and warm. He led you up the creaky old stairs with practiced steps, slowing near the top as the hallway opened to framed memories and the soft hush of home settling in for the night.

He paused outside a door with faded stickers on the frame. Hallie’s old room.

“Here we are,” he said quietly, pushing it open.

The room was small, a little outdated, but cozy. A quilt tucked neatly over the bed. A stack of books on the dresser. A floral curtain drifting in the window’s breeze.

You turned to him, smiling. “She really did make it nice.”

Jake nodded, leaning against the doorway, hands in his pockets. “Yeah. That’s mom for you.”

A beat passed, soft and lingering.

“You sure you’ll be alright in here?” he asked.

You stepped closer, reaching for his hand. “I’ll survive one night without you.”

He tugged you in gently, his forehead resting against yours. “Didn’t say I would.”

You laughed quietly, your hands on his chest. “Goodnight, Jake.”

He kissed you once, slow and soft. “Goodnight, darlin’.”

[alexrosa13]

Thank You

Caleb x female!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: mc!reader, Caleb and reader are teens (no exact age specified), reader has a first period

Note: I'm on my period and in a need of comfort, thank you people from discord for making me come up with that idea <3

for masterlist and request info head to the navigation →

Caleb takes care of you when your first period hits you completely unprepared.

"Caleb!" your scream echoed through the whole house, the boy previously gaming shot up from his seat on the couch, running to the bathroom you were in and knocking on the door.

"Pipsqueak? What's wrong? Something happened?" his hurried and worried tone actually calmed you down. He heard your quiet sobs from behind the door.

"Is Gran back yet?" your quiet voice made his worry even more.

"No, she will probably be out until the evening." his answer made you let out a louder sob "Pipsqueak can I come in?" he waited for an answer with his hand on the door handle.

The sobs stopped, he could tell you were hesitating.

"Come in." he almost didn't catch it, but the moment it reached his ears he instantly pulled the handle, covering his eyes with one hand in case you weren't fully clothed.

"What's wrong?" he noticed the toilet seat empty, scanning the room for your presence from underneath his hand, most of his vision still covered.

"You can look." with some hesitation he pulled his hand down, he noticed you sitting fully dressed in the bathtub, your face red and wet from crying. He was at the side of the tub in an instant, kneeling on the other side of it, with his hands grabbing it's edge.

"What happened? Why are you crying?" he was super confused and worried.

You didn't answer for a moment before your head went down staring at your legs. Following your gaze he peaked at your lower body, noticing the red color under you.

His eyes widen, the panic taking an even worse turn.

"What happened? Are you bleeding?" you closed your tights together, hiding the scene under your legs, his eyes went up to your face.

"I think I... Just started my period..." you answered still in a shaky voice. This calmed him down a little, at least you weren't dying, but still he was still panicking.

"Your period? Okay, cool. Cool, cool, cool. So... What are we doing with this now?" his hurried concerned voice was a little more high than his normal tone, making you smile for a moment.

"I... Never had one before." your eyes got glassy, new tears forming "And I don't have anything... For it..." it took him a moment to catch the meaning of your statement. You needed products for your period.

"You need..." he exhaled "Okay, alright, yeah. I can... I can go and get them, yeah. I... I'll get them for you." he stood up "I'll be right back, wait." he ran from the bathroom, you didn't even have time to call out to him.

You brought your legs to your torso and waited, tears still lingering in your eyes. In about a minute or two you heard loud footsteps before Caleb showed himself once more in the bathroom door, wearing his jacket.

"I'll run to the store 5 minutes from us, you'll be okay here?" he was nervous, just like you, that much was obvious. You nodded your head to which an awkward smile found itself on his lips. He turned around, about to leave for his 'mission', when you called his name.

"Do you need something else pipsqueak?" you reached your hand towards him, he came closer to you at the gesture, and you pulled him by the material of his jacket, squishing your face into his body, with your hands embracing his waist.

He froze for a moment before his own arms came to hug you tight.

"Thank you." your whisper reached him, his ears burning bright pink by now.

"Don't mention it." you let go of him, wiping away the tears from your cheeks "I'll be right back." and with that he left.

~★~

Walking into the store he thought about where to find the products you need. Roaming between the alleys before reaching the one with bathroom necessities. Scanning the shelf he finally noticed what he was looking for, he thought for a moment which one should he take before grabbing the darker one.

He made his way towards the register, silently praying that the cashier won't be judging him. He stopped before the shelves with snacks, reaching into his pocket he started counting the money he had with him, it was all he had left from this week's pocked money from Gran. Doing quick math in his head he reached out for your favorite snack, girls need snacks on their periods right?

Finally making his way towards the register he noticed that the lady working today was the nice cashier that always chatted with Gran. Before him was another older woman, packing her products. He clutched the stuff in his hand, trying to act natural and unbothered.

The lady was finishing up her packing when the cashier gestured for him to hand her the items in his hands. He did exactly that, noticing her face changing for a moment in slight shock and approval. She didn't comment on the stuff he was buying, well she didn't, but the woman next to him did.

"How nice of you to buy this for your girlfriend, such a gentleman at such a young age." she smiled with approval, he only nodded his head and let out a quiet 'thank you miss' before handing the cashier the money.

"Yes, I wish more men were like this." the woman behind the register chuckled, giving him his change. He hid the products in his pocket before saying polite goodbyes and leaving the story in a hurry. He ran back home as fast as he could, worried about your state.

~★~

You heard the front door opening and closing. Rushed footsteps coming your way, you raised your head that was resting previously on your knees, waiting for your savior.

You saw the bathroom doors moving before Caleb came into your line of vision. He rushed towards you, leaving the pack of pads on the sink counter.

"Do you need me to bring you some clothes?" he was weirdly calm compared to earlier.

"Yes, please." he put his hand on your head, messing with your hair before turning to go and get the things you need. You scoffed but smiled while getting the hair off of your face.

A moment later he came back with the pile of clothes in his hand, leaving it for you next to the pads.

"I'll go and make something to eat, wash up first." he grabbed the door handle, sending you one last look before closing the door after him.

Finally you felt like you were able to breathe, the tension and stress leaving your body together with the bloody clothes that you took off.

Yeah, a quick shower is a must.

You come into the kitchen in fresh clothes, feeling much better. Caleb gave you his shirt to change into, since you always spoke about how his shirts are the most comfy things to wear (while using one as pajamas), and some sweatpants.

His head turned towards you, taking a good look at your silhouette, not bloody anymore.

"Nothing hurts?" he heard how women talk about how painful their periods are, he actually caught himself searching all of the possible ways to help a girl on her period, not like he was planning to use this knowledge on anyone...

"All good so far." you came closer to him, seating yourself on the counter top like you always did when he was cooking.

"Good. You got me panicking there, when I heard you screaming." he chuckled, you send him a playful glare, hitting his shoulder.

You noticed something next to you. Your favorite snack. You were out of it, and you didn't have money left to buy those so...

"Caleb..." you nudged him with your finger, once he looked your way you pointed at the snack.

"It's for you." he said like it's no big deal, his attention returning to whatever dish he was making. You felt warmth in your chest. Why did your heart start beating faster?

Without any comment you reached for the snack, soon enough taking the first bite. Caleb, still focused on his task, suddenly felt something pressing to his lips.

He looked at you in confusion, you only shrugged, your hand with the snack still next to his mouth, clearly waiting for him to take a bite. He did just that, and only then you finally lowered your hand, now you were acting like it was not a big deal.

Your food was holy to you, never sharing it with him (totally not because he was always stealing it himself and you were mad at him), what changed?

"Thank you." you said quietly, your gaze dropped to your legs.

"You have nothing to thank me for." he smiled at you.

"Actually, I have a lot to thank you for." your tone still too calm, you two were always playful, 'annoying' each other all the time, you jumped down from the counter, he didn't think much of it until your lips touched his cheek for a second. He stood there, dumbfounded, you pulled away whispering a quiet 'thank you' once more, before heading for something to the other room.

He stared at the food before him, feeling the warmth covering his ears. Well, that's... Unusual.

©alexrosa13 on tumblr

[tpwk-formula1]

Hii!! I loved your fics !! Can you do a jealousy plot?lando saw a hickey on reader’s neck and can’t wait to mark her his ?? Idk you’re the expert .

A thin crust pizza with red sauce. basil, ham, broccoli, roasted mashroom buratta and shallots for toppings and sparkling water and red bull on the side !!! Served by lando

This is my order. Hope it’s not too big. 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

thin crust brother's best friend red sauce rough sex basil "I love to watch my cum leak from your pretty pussy" ham "You're so infuriating. Walking around like you own the place and then come back to my room to get fucked properly" broccoli "Made just for me huh?" roasted mushrooms “Fucking you so good you I can see myself in your tummy” burrata "How many was that? three... I think you can give me another" shallots "I love marking you up. Let everyone know I own you" sparkling water spitting red bull hickeys dessert yes served by Lando Norris

Lando x Verstappen! reader

TW - multiple orgasms, jealous! lando, rough sex, fingering, pussy eating, unprotected sex, spitting, hickeys, bite marks, cream pie

WC 1700+

Y/N POV

"Y/N," Lando calls my name with a boyish giddiness laced in his voice making me whip my head towards him with a smile. I was walking the streets of Monaco wasting time until my date later when Lando saw me.

"Hi Lando! How have you been?" I ask with the same joy in my voice.

"Good, and you?" Lando asks while pulling me in for a hug.

Lando and I had met when he got into Formula 1, and have been close since than.

"Good! Officially done with all of my schooling so I'm taking a break for a bit and gonna travel with Max the rest of the season" I tell him softly with a smile.

"Good to know I'll have someone to bother," Lando says with a smirk making me laugh and shake my head.

"I have to go but it was good to see you! We'll plan something before Austin," I tell him before starting to walk away.

I spend the rest of my night on a date with a guy who was completely a dud. The date itself went really well I even going back with him to his place. I quickly realized I hated everything about him leaving shortly after arriving.

I didn't realize grown men could still be terrible kissers.

When I get back to Max's apartment I find Max on the sim making me walk towards it and watch him from over his shoulder.

"How was your date?" Max asks softly when he hears me behind him.

"absolutely terrible," I reply back quickly before adding, "Okay the date was okay but he was the worst fucking kisser ever. I just came from his apartment."

I watch Max's face upturn at the mention of me going home with a man making me laugh softly.

"Are you streaming?" I ask Max softly making him shake his head.

"No, I'm on a discord call with a few of the boys," Max tells me making me nod my head and smile.

"Hi guys," I say while waving before leaving the room and into my room Max is letting me stay in while I figure out what I want to do next.

When I get into my room I open my phone to see that Lando had texted me.

Once I finish texting Lando I slowly climb out of bed and change into a different sun dress before heading out of my room and slowly passing Max making him look at me with a raised brow.

"Where are you going?" Max asks softly making me look up at him.

"I'm gonna go see Lando, he didn't realize I was back in town," I tell Max softly lying through my teeth before heading out the door and up the elevator to where Lando's apartment was.

When I got there I knocked softly making Lando open the door he instantly pulled me into his arms and placed his mouth on mine before the door was even closed behind us.

With the door now closed Lando pushes me against the door before he starts grabbing at my tits with his large hands making me moan out softly.

"I see you changed just for me," Lando says while pulling back and smirking at the dress before his face twists in disgust when he spots the soft purple mark forming on my skin.

"Couldn't even give you a mark worth sporting," Lando says while leaning down and sucking a darker mark in the same spot making me gasp at the feeling.

"Had to replace his with mine," Lando says with a smirk making me roll my eyes at the petty man in front of me.

"You're quite possessive for someone who has always claimed we are nothing more than friends," I say with a smirk making Lando roll his eyes.

"Whatever, you know you're so infuriating. Walking around like you own the place and then come back to my room to get fucked properly," Lando says before leaning back down to my neck and placing soft wet kisses along my skin before he starts biting down with his teeth leaving teeth marks all along my skin before he starts sucking more hickeys along my skin marking me up for him.

"Fuck you look pretty like this," Lando groaned while tracing one of the marks he had just left on me.

"Lando," I whine out needing more than just us standing in the doorway letting Lando mark up my skin.

Lando takes the hint and easily picks me up into his arms letting my legs wrap around his waist as I pull him in for a kiss while he brings us into his bedroom where he gently drops me onto the bed and pushes my dress up to reveal the pathetic piece of cloth I called a thong.

"Fucking hell, how are you already drenched?" Lando groans while tracing the little wet spot that had formed from how soaked pussy.

"You, Lan," I gasp out when Lando used a bit more pleasure on my clit making me whimper slightly at the feeling. Lando leans down close to my pussy before spitting directly onto where my clit is before he smears his spit into my thong adding to the wetness.

"Fuck," I gasp finally registering what Lando was doing. I can feel his spit mixing with my slick making me whimper at the feeling.

Lando leans down and I assume he's finally gonna give me what I need but instead he starts kissing my thighs before biting down and leaving some of his harsh teeth marks all around my inner thighs making me whimper at the feeling.

I can feel Lando start sucking leaving some hickeys on my inner thighs.

"I love marking you up. Let everyone know I own you," Lando says groaning making me look down to see the deep purple marks littering my skin while also noticing some teeeth marks making me look up at Lando with a raised brow. He only smirked back before he's gripping at my panties and pulled them down my thighs leaving the cool air to graze my soaked pussy.

"lan, please," I beg while lifting my hips up trying to get some kind of stimulation.

"Needy little thing," Lando says with a smirk before leaning down and finally licking a strip up from my drenched hole to my throbbing clit making me whimper when Lando sits back up and leans over my face before roughly gripping onto my jaw opening my mouth before he spits dirrectly into my mouth letting the taste of my pussy and Lando's spit mingle in my mouth a bit before swallowing with a moan.

"Fuck, you're a perfect little whore," lando says leaning back down to place a kiss on my lips before moving down to my pussy once again where he starts eating me out like a starved man.

"Oh Lan!" I whimper feeling Lando roughly shove two fingers deep into my pussy.

I knew I wasn't gonna l;ast long with the way that Lando was attacking my pussy making me whim per when my orgasm starts building almost instant;ly.

"Fuck, I always forget how easy it is for me to make you cum. Made just for me huh?" Lando groans against my pussy making me scream out and start cumming all over Lando's face and fingers. Lando helps me ride my orgasm out but never once slows down making me whimper when the overstimulation takes affect.

"You can take it," Lando roughly tells me while speeding his fingers up faster knowing he could easily throw me into another orgasm.

"Lan," I cry out again when I can feel myself building to another orgasm making me whimper loudly.

"Come on. Cum for me," Lando groans against my pussy while focussing his fingers on my G-spot making me scream out as I fall over the edge into another overwhelming orgasm.

"Fuck, such a good girl," Lando groans still attacking my pussy with his fingers before slipping them out and quickly stripping his clothes off before quickly shoving his large cock into my overstimulated pussy making me cum almost instantly on his cock.

"Oh wow," Lando teases when he feels my pussy clenching in another orgasm.

"How many was that? three... I think you can give me another," Lando teases making me whimper at his teasing. Lando hold still while I relax around him before he starts rocking his hips letting me get used to the stretch of his cock.

"Fuck, my favorite pussy to be buried in," Lando groans when he starts picking up his thrusts so he's fucking into my pussy at a brutal pace.

"Oh my God," I groan out feeling tears start to brim my eyes from how overwhelming the pleasure is becoming.

“Fucking you so good you I can see myself in your tummy,” Lando groans making me look down to see the bulge that keeps reappearing every time Lando fucks into my pussy.

"Fuck," I moan out while I bring my hand down to feel the bump keep reappearing.

"Push down on it," Lando grunts out making me slightly press down gasping almost instantly with wide eyes.

"Oh Lan," I moan making Lando smirk while still fucking into my abused pussy.

"Fuck, I'm close," Lando groans speeding up making me feel my fourth orgasm of the night start to build rapidly.

"Cum for me," Lando groans making me scream and grip onto Lando's back digging my nails into his skin sure to leave marks in the morning as I start summing all over Lando's cock as he follows closely behind cumming deep into my pussy. I can feel Lando's cum splashing my walls making me whimper at the feeling.

When Lando slips out of my pussy he groans when he spots his cum leaking from ym gaping pussy.

"I love to watch my cum leak from your pretty pussy," Lando says with a smirk before leaning down and kissing my forehead as he lays next to me pussy me into his chest for a cuddle.

"Can't believe you were jealous," I saw with a smirk making Lando scoff and pull me in tighter.

"Just let me make you mine," Lando says making me smile.

"Deal, but you get to break the news to Max," I say with a smirk making Lando groan.

"If it means I get you all to myself, then fine," Lando says before pulling me in for a quick kiss, before getting out of bed and grabbing a rag to clean us up.

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ Yes, sir, no, sir, you’re not the boss of me! ❞

Sakura Haruka x ftm!reader | fluff, established relationship, one-shot | reader has had top surgery |  wc: 1.1K

warnings: minor mention of bullying, minor mention of classism

authors note:  The rare instance where the MDNI is not on the post whoah. Also this fic is more of a drabble I think, not much plot but regardless!!! (this is for you @minusormax <3)

Listening to ▸ safeword by Halsey, Flawless by The Neighbourhood Patreon | Discord 

Haruka wasn’t a big fan of your uniform. The way the neatly stitched emblem of your school crest gleamed, as though the yellow threads were woven with real gold, backdropped by the rich navy jacket across your shoulders coupled with the crisp white shirt underneath — everything about you irritated him. It was an instinct within him, or a reaction due to him being ostracised for his appearance, to keep you at arm's length away. Haruka would snap his teeth in retaliation if you drew in close, with your neatly styled hair and perfectly polished nails. 

The school you attended were filled with rich kids; there was an edge to their mocking that Haruka despised. It was this look in their eyes, this knowing expression, so sure of themselves as they looked down on others. 

Ants. Everyone else was ants to them, they saw this as a fact and that smug expression they wore made him grind his teeth in irritation. 

During his patrols, he’d scoffed inwardly at the sight of you walking past him. The dark leather school bag you held, the little keychains clattering together with every step you took. So carefree, weren’t you? 

He pushed on. You weren’t going to cause any trouble — that little grin across your face and skip in your step hardly made any alarm bells ring. 

He never expected to fall for you.

There was a gentle knock on their classroom door. The sound was so peculiar, that a few of them thought they were simply imagining the noise —  the students of Furin High School weren’t well known for their gentle greetings. Other than a few quieter students, even they usually came with their pack of rambunctious friends. Still, a few of the boys turned their heads at the sight of a different school uniform and a boy smiling politely at everyone’s way. 

Behind him, a gaggle of stunned heads had bobbed along. This causes him no distress or bashfulness. Instead, this beautiful stranger — with his neat school uniform that belonged to a private high school at the edge of their city — simply acts as though this was the most natural thing in the world. 

It goes quiet, conversations turning into murmurs while his eyes bounce from one face to another. He pauses and the clothed box he’s holding drops from his chest to his stomach as his brows sloped.

“Is Haruka here?” his voice sets everyone back to life. Instantly, they blink and turn to the other, wondering who Hakura is and why this angel wants to see him. 

“Uh, he went to a Class Prez meeting he should be — “ 

Haruka calls out your name from down the hall, his eyes widening as he fully registers that you’re here. That annoying uniform and that handsome face. Haruka’s shoulders go from tense to relaxed, Suo suppressing his urge to tease him. Even with his harsh personality, Haruka truly can’t help from being an open book when it comes to his affection for you.

His body softens up at the sight of you. 

Haruka catches himself, his wits returning to him in the flex of his neck as he walks towards you. In all honesty, he preferred you being here. Surrounded by other Buforin students, they’d keep you safe — even if he knew you were more than capable of handling your own.

“Haruka-kun!” 

Nirei was sure Haruka might make strawberries envy the shade of ripe red his ears turned. Suo and him share a knowing look, finding it hard to contain their sniggering. Their classmates press their faces to the hallway windows, some even peeking their heads out while the students by the stairs all whisper amongst themselves. 

“Why are you here?” Sakura says in that usual gruffness, though it is noticeably softer. 

“I made you a bento!”

A chorus of confused ‘’eh’s”  went around the room. Nirei covers his mouth with his hand, feigning shock as he glances at Suo who stares on with that usual subtle grin on his face. 

“Bento?!” one boy exclaims.

“Someone made you a bento!?” Hakura scowls at the yell.

“Are you two a thing or something!?” You blink innocently at the shock so clearly painted on everyone’s faces. 

“Are you ashamed of me?” Haruka’s neck nearly snaps from how quickly he turns his head to look at you, his eyes as wide as saucer plates. He tries to find the words, mouth gaping for a second. 

Without even answering you, he grabs at your elbow and drags you away. Despite the yells of protests and general rowdiness, he is steadfast in his quest.

“Haruka!” You grunt at his speed, struggling to not stumble over your own feet to attempt to keep up with him. He barrels through the crowd, going down the stairs so fast you’re pressing the lunchbox to ensure it wasn’t getting too rattled around. 

“Where are we going!?”

He skids to a stop, sliding open an unused faculty room, then gently rushing you in. You stare at Haruka’s heaving back for a second, lips pushed forward into a pout as you wait for him to collect his thoughts. 

“Ashamed?” He narrowed his eyes at you from his shoulder, turning his body to face you. His approach, though coupled with his scowl and glare, was not heavy-footed. It didn’t illicit any fear in you. He doesn’t crowd you or pin you to the desk, but as he crosses his arms, Haruka’s elbows lightly brush against your chest. 

“Do you seriously think I would be ashamed of you? What are talking about?”

“But you didn’t tell your classmates about us?”  Haruka’s fair skin warms into a shade of pink that quickly darkens to red. 

 “It’s — why do they need to know that? It’s not like you tell your classmates about me,” he huffs out. Flustered and bashful — like some shy schoolgirl with reactivity issues. 

Your eyes soften, sitting down on the edge of the table and cooing at him. 

“Of course, I tell my classmates about my tough boyfriend!” 

When Haruka returned to his classroom, his head felt so hot he was surprised smoke hadn’t emitted from the top of his head or out of his ears. He held the bento you made preciously to his chest. 

He swats everyone away, verbally and physically as the others try to peek into it. Keeping it away from watchful eyes all until lunchtime rolls around, when he successfully finds a place for some privacy he hangs his head and mutters your name while warmth spreads across his chest.

The bottom was blanketed by some crips lettuce, the green making everything else pop out from the cream wood. The soft rice was shaped into a familiar cute dog, though his little nose was made with a finely cut seaweed sheet, his eyes were mismatched; blue and yellow. His dog ears were also split in colour, matching Haruka, while he had little pink flowers acting as a blush under his dual-coloured eyes. 

There were sausages and star-shaped fluffy omelettes, little sauce boxes tucked away just for him. He shakily held the hand-written note that you wrote, the ends of his hair lifting as he smiled down at it. 

[ Eat well, Haruka-chan~! <3 ]

[rockstarellies]

a sin most sweet

contents: sadie adler x f!reader

pov: you’re a harlot in the 1700s and long for escapism with the fairer sex. your wishes are granted in the form of sadie adler.

(i’ve been rewatching harlots and thinking about sadie and it came together to form this fic)

disclaimer: reader is f! and lesbian, in her 20s!! mentions of sex work, mentions of comphet (forcing herself to sleep w men), fic is set in 18th century england so progression isn’t amazing for women back then. tiny hints of smut i guess but it’s more pure sapphic yearning

ㅤೀ 𓍯 ͜ ಿ꣒ ୨୧ ㅤಿ୧

London, 1760

The brothel smelled of perfume, sweat, and candle wax, a heady mix that clung to your skin as you walked through the dimly lit corridors. The laughter of drunken men spilled from the main hall downstairs, accompanied by the discordant sound of a piano being played with far too much enthusiasm and far too little skill. The air was thick with pipe smoke, curling in ghostly wisps through the low-hanging chandeliers.

You had learned to ignore the noise, the debauchery, the way men pawed at you with hands that had never known softness. It was your life—one of lace and rouge, of whispered lies and painted smiles. ‘The finest courtesan in the city’ they called you, and in a world where a woman’s worth was measured by what she could offer men, you had made yourself invaluable.

But it was all a performance.

Your body belonged to them, but your heart… your heart was caged. You had spent years locking it away, crushing the longing that stirred when a woman’s fingertips grazed your skin, when a lady’s lips brushed your cheek in a farewell that lingered too long. You had seen what happened to women who let those feelings slip through their pretty little facades. You had seen the ruin, the scorn.

So you had buried it deep.

Until the night she arrived.

The doors swung open with an abrupt force that sent a hush rippling through the parlor. You didn’t look up at first—new patrons were nothing unusual—but something in the air shifted. The murmur of voices lowered, the sharp scent of gunpowder and leather cutting through the usual sickly perfumes.

Then you heard her voice.

“I’m lookin’ for some fine company.”

It was not the slurred, lecherous drawl of a man looking to drown his loneliness in warm flesh. It was smoother, edged with something dangerous, something untamed. You turned your head, and there she was—leaning against the doorway like she owned the whole damn place.

She was unlike anyone you had ever seen.

She wore no silks or satins, no powdered wig to hide the wild golden hair that fell over one shoulder. Her clothes were travel-worn—brown leather, dusted with the road, a pistol strapped to her hip as though it were as much a part of her as her own hand.

And then there were her eyes, sharply assessing you. You felt something shift in your chest, something unfamiliar and terrifying.

You forced a practiced smile and smoothed your skirts, rising with a grace that belied the way your pulse hammered beneath your corset.

“That depends on the company you seek,” you said, voice sweet as honey, though your throat felt dry.

Her lips twitched—not quite a smile, but the ghost of one.

“I reckon I’ll take you,” she said simply, flicking a coin onto the table between you.

You reached for it, but before you could grasp it, her hand caught yours. Rough leather against soft skin. A touch that was not forceful, not demanding—just firm. Deliberate.

You swallowed, tilting your head. “And what is it you seek tonight, Miss…?”

She released you, eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Sadie. Sadie Adler.”

Without another word, you led her upstairs, past the shadowed alcoves where other courtesans entertained their clients, past the prying eyes of the Madame who arched a brow at your choice of patron.

In the candlelit glow of your chambers, you turned to face her, expecting the usual motions—the pretense, the undressing, the transaction.

But Sadie merely leaned against the bedpost, arms crossed, eyes studying you like she was peeling back layers no one had dared touch before.

“You don’t belong here,” she murmured.

The words struck something deep inside you, something you had spent years trying to forget.

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, though it did nothing to steady you. “And where do I belong, then?”

Sadie pushed off the bedpost, stepping closer. “Somewhere you ain’t gotta pretend.”

Her voice was steady, but there was a softness there, an understanding.

You hated how much you wanted to believe her.

Her gloved fingers traced the lace at your wrist, not in possession, not in demand—but in question. A silent ask.

The room was quiet, save for the distant sound of rain beginning to patter against the window.

You swallowed. “You paid for an hour.”

Sadie exhaled through her nose, almost a laugh, but there was no amusement in her gaze. “That what you want? For me to pay you for this?”

You had played this game before. You had entertained noblemen who thought themselves charming, who feigned affection to ease their own guilt. But Sadie was not like them.

She was giving you an out.

You had spent your life being touched without being felt.

And yet, for the first time, someone was offering you the choice.

The silence stretched, fragile as spun glass.

Then, barely above a whisper, you spoke the most honest words of your life.

“No.”

Sadie smiled.

“Then come here, darlin’.”

For the first time in your life, you did not hesitate.

The space between you and Sadie disappeared with the quietest of movements. She reached for you, slow as the tide drawing back from the shore, giving you every chance to stop her.

You didn’t.

Her hands, clad in worn leather, traced the line of your corset where ribbon met fabric. Unlike the men who had come before her—clumsy, impatient, eager to take—Sadie’s touch was careful. Reverent.

She pulled off her gloves, one finger at a time, letting them drop to the floor before her fingers found the laces at your back.

“You alright?” she murmured, so low you almost didn’t hear it.

You swallowed, nodding, though you had never been more uncertain of anything in your life.

Sadie exhaled softly against your throat as she leaned in, her breath warm, teasing but never taking. Her hands moved slowly, tugging the ribbons loose, easing the tension from your ribs inch by inch. No one had ever undressed you like this—no rush, no fumbling hands, no tearing at fabric like you were something to be unwrapped and discarded.

Your corset fell open, slipping from your shoulders, leaving your chemise the only thing between you and the cool air. You shivered, but not from the cold.

Sadie pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder, so light it was barely there.

“Y’know,” she murmured against your skin, “I never paid for an hour with someone just to take my time like this.”

You let out a breathy laugh, the sound unexpected, even to yourself.

“Then why are you?”

Sadie lifted her head, her lips curving into something soft, something knowing.

“‘Cause I figured no one ever has.”

Your heart clenched at that because she was right.

The men who had touched you before had done so with hunger, with greed. They had never asked, never waited. Never made you feel like you were anything more than a fleeting indulgence.

But Sadie…

Sadie made you feel like something precious.

Her fingers found the hem of your chemise, pausing again, waiting for permission.

You inhaled sharply, caught between fear and want. No one had ever touched you like this—like you mattered.

Slowly, tentatively, you covered her hand with yours, guiding it upward.

That was all the answer she needed.

She pulled the fabric over your head, leaving you bare in the candlelight. The fire in the hearth flickered, its glow casting golden light across your skin.

Sadie’s eyes roamed over you, but there was no hunger, no entitlement—only admiration.

She lifted a hand, brushing the back of her fingers down the curve of your spine, so gentle it sent a shiver through you.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered.

The words sent warmth pooling in your stomach.

No one had ever told you that without wanting something in return.

Sadie cupped your face, tilting it up so you had no choice but to meet her gaze.

“You still alright?” she asked again, voice rough but tender.

You nodded.

She smiled, then leaned in, finally—finally—claiming your lips with her own.

Her kiss was slow, unhurried, as if she had all the time in the world. Her lips were warm, slightly chapped, tasting of whiskey and something untamed.

She kissed you the way a woman should be kissed. No force. No expectation. Just quiet, lingering want.

Your hands found her waist, tugging at her belt, but Sadie pulled back just enough to smirk against your lips.

“Easy, darlin’,” she murmured. “Ain’t no rush.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

There was always a rush, always a demand, a need to perform, to please. But Sadie… Sadie was waiting.

Your chest tightened, a strange ache settling beneath your ribs.

You had never been seen, never been loved like this before.

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

How To Plant Snapdragons | 17

Task Force 141, Keegan & Konig x Female Criminal!Reader

Previous Chapter / Masterlist / Discord

You jumped off the back of the pick-up, scanning the place where Ghost guided Hesh to drive. You reached your clenched fist skyward, groaning as you heard your bones pop. “A great driver, you are,” you mumbled, glancing at Hesh who was already flipping his middle finger at you. You grimaced at him not bothering to say a word anymore that might make Keegan combust any minute now. You followed behind Soap and Ghost, while the Americans walked at your your back.

“Where are we?” Soap questioned, looking from left to right. Whereas, you slowly turned yourself a three hundred and sixty degrees, before settling your eyes upon the house before you.

“Alejandro’s safehouse,” Ghost claimed. “He gave me the location just in case.”

Soap frowned at him just as you looked at the Lieutenant. “Why didn’t he tell me or Shampoo?”

You frowned at Soap, taken aback by the sudden call sign, and heard a snort behind you. No doubt, it was Hesh. You raised a middle finger over your shoulder.

Ghost turned his head to the side, and muffled a cough, before facing ahead. “It was a need to know.”

“What if I and she needed to know—”

“I’m a criminal, Mactavish,” you talked over Soap, walking faster to walk beside him.

He looked down on you, raising a brow. “So, what’s that—”

Ghost hushed him and slowed down on his tracks as the group approached the house. He looked down at the planks of metal underneath your feet. As just the members of Task Force 141 got into a conversation about it, calling Alejandro a ‘smart bastard’, you turned to the side, once again taking in the entirety of the house’s outside look. Enough to hold an armory, several vehicles, and dozens of soldiers. Logan followed close to you and pointed at the opened window. Meanwhile, Keegan and Hesh walked to the other side, eyeing the empty land across.

You snapped you fingers, successfully gaining the attention of the group, and nodded at the window that your brother pointed at. You climbed over it before anyone could stop you and aimed your gun forward, scanning for any hostile. You waited for Logan to come right after you until a red line came across your sight, and a gruff voice instead came to your ears. “Don’t move.”

Ghost launched a knife at the root of the laser, but hit a wooden pillar instead. The person hit behind it and you lunged forward, grabbing the person out of the shadows. The person grunted as he hit the ground and you placed the muzzle of the gun on his forehead, then you took in his features. “Rodolfo?”

“Mierda, Snapdragon,” Rodolfo breathed out as you moved away from him, letting the gun loose from your grip in relief.

(Shit)

You raised a hand, watching him stand up on his feet. “Lo siento, hermano,” you flashed a small smile, beating yourself up inside your mind and feeling guilty that you forgot about him. Your mind had only been going around Keegan and the Walkers, the 141, and how to fucking survive from the Shadows.

(I’m sorry, brother)

“Rodolfo!” Soap marched forward, his arms wide, and pulled the Mexican into a hug.

“Soap,” Rudy exclaimed, delight evident in his voice, and even smiled as he saw the Lieutenant. “Ghost! You guys are alive!”

You raised a finger, about to comment about him not being happy to see you, but quickly put your hand down. Once again, you beat yourself up in your brain, having the audacity to even think of that when you tried to kill him just now. You turned back to the window, motioning at Logan to follow in. He in return gestured at his fellow Ghosts.

“Who are they?” Rodolfo questioned, cautiously eyeing the other three who just stepped inside the safehouse as he pulled out Ghost’s knife from the pillar.

“Allies,” Soap immediately answered.

Yet, Rodolfo still narrowed his eyes at the Ghosts. “Allies? The Shadows were like that, too.”

You moved in front of the Walkers and Russ, waving a hand at them to stop in their tracks and speak of nothing. Meanwhile, you merely kept the smile you were showing the Mexican, and let the 141 do the speaking, considering they were the ones Rodolfo was putting his trust on at the moment.

“Snapdragon’s friends subdued the Shadows on our behalf, and helped us get around the town,” Ghost claimed, glancing at the masked men and you. “For now, General Shepherd and anyone outside this place is considered hostile.”

At this, you stepped forward, raising a hand. “Herschel is a no-go, more than half of the Shadow Company is his men,” you told them, making the lots focus their eyes on you. “I can vouch for Kate to be on our side. She’s the one who helped me uncover the tracks of Shepherd hiring mercenaries and planting them as Shadows in Graves’ company.” You came to a quick stop and kept a stoic face. Whilst you screamed in your mind, as Soap and Rodolfo’s eyes narrowed at you.

You shouldn't have said that.

The urge to smash your head against a wall had come to the maximum once again.

“How long have you known about that?” Rodolfo questioned, gaze becoming intense as time goes.

“Not for—”

“Not for long,” Ghost finished, meeting your eyes and holding it for a second, before he averted to to the Mexican and continued. “She had recently joined the Task Force 141, too. She was in the Shadow Company, before going under Laswell’s custody, then the team.”

You watched him take a deep breath, warmth blooming in your chest. You raked your eyes over his body, imagining yourself kissing every inch of him as thanks for an answer. But you quickly brushed it off, feeling something on your back—the warmth of a hand against the chill of your clothes—and swallowed.

God, Keegan.

“During that, she had been talking with Captain Price and Laswell about Shepherd’s plan,” Ghost took his eyes back at you, but again, he quickly shifted them back to Rudy. “Price had told me about it, and I told Alejandro. He told me about this safehouse in return.” This time, his gaze settled on you, and gave a curt nod.

Fuck, a threesome sandwich with Ghost and Keegan, then. With the masks and gears on. No lube, no protection, in the barracks, Price’s desk, on his couch, the bathroom, the hallway, at the back of the pick-up truck, in Alejandro’s safehouse—

You ran your tongue over across your lips and smacked them.  “Given that the Shadows might turn against and outnumber us, I called my friends over.” You moved out of the way of the Ghosts and gestured at them with a smile.

Hesh nodded at Rodolfo, but the other two remained silent.

After some quietness and pondering, Rodolfo spoke. “ I see.” Then, his eyes locked onto you, making all of them shift in your direction once again. “What about Graves?”

You sighed. “Him, I’m still partial. But—” You crossed your arms. “I plan to take him back.” You waved a hand. “Well, more than anything, we need Alejandro back.”

With that, Rodolfo finally gave some approval to you, nodding, before he turned away. “Come.”

You patted Ghost’s shoulder—a silent thanks—and as though a welcome, he tapped your head once again with his clenched fist. You glanced over to the other three behind your back and nodded, thinking of how to introduce the Ghost to the Ghosts. Well, it should be good.

Ahead, Rodolfo tapped open a lamp, revealing a wooden desk with a map laid out. It seemed he was already planning on his own before the lots of you came. To smoothen the paper, he put some bullets over, which were also acting as legends to determine people or places. “The Shadows is holding him here. The rest of the Vaqueros are in there too.”

You scanned the map as all of you took places around the table and raised both of your brows as you noticed the familiar layout. “Oh, shit.” You couldn’t help but grin. “I know this place.” You looked up from the map, running your eyes across their questioning ones. “I’ve told you guys I’ve been to Mexico, right?” you motioned at the 141 and the Mexican.

“You said two years ago,” Soap reminded, his lips pouting a bit out of curiosity.

“Yeah, I was with them.” You pointed a thumb at the Ghosts.

“Good times,” Hesh commented, flashing a smile at them.

“Exhausting,” Keegan refuted, glancing at the younger man.

You raised your index finger. “Both. But I’ve also been here with Graves, at that black site prison.” You tapped on the map.

“For what?” Keegan queried in an instant and your face whipped at him with furrowing brows.

“For a mission,” you grimaced at him, “duh.”

He raised a brow under his mask. “Uh-huh.”

You painted a scowl on your face. “What the fuck are you into—I have fucking standards! I wouldn’t have liked you even when you’re always ‘Snapdragon, don't do  this, Snapdragon, don't do that’!” You pointed in one direction, then another. “I swear to God, you’re more of a nagger than Merrick! And Graves?” You faked out a barf. “Yuck! Argh! Just thinking about it brings me back to the feeling of having maggots crawl on my skin like when we accidentally crawled on a fucking dead warthog in the Savannah, full of vermins and other organisms that should be extinct in the crust of the Earth, or when that fellow inmate of mine wiped her poop on the cubicle before I went to take shit just to spite me—do you even know how disgusting that is? Lord! Then, she did it again, so I fucking stabbed her with the toothbrush I sharpened on the fucking wall of the cell. The only time I was goddamn thankful to Graves that he pulled me out of the fucking prison Shepherd put me in was because I was finally out of that shithole worse than Hell! I swear my father isn’t experiencing that in the Gulag—”

“So you were saying?” Ghost questioned, making your mouth come to a sudden halt.

You scanned the room and pushed your lips together in a thin line. Soap’s expression was in the middle of confusion and concern, just as the same as Rofolfo who had already taken a step away from the table. You sighed. “I yapped again, didn’t I?”

Hesh raised a hand, slightly motioning at Rudy. “I apologize on her behalf.”

“Sorry,” Logan mumbled, giving a curt nod at the Mexican.

You nodded at him as well. “Yeah, sorry.” You coughed on your fist and continued, tapping on the map. “Anyways, the prison is outside of Las Almas, in a remote area. I think I’ve heard it previously had good security until the Narcos—was it Narcos?” You looked over at Rodolfo, who gave a quick nod of approval. “Then, it was permanently closed. Around eight months ago, Graves bought it—illegally, of course, and he brought me along with some other Shadows to look over it. He knew I was good at figuring out structures of buildings and possible hidden routes, picking locks. Unless he developed it without me knowing, there shouldn’t be any difference between the map we have now from the actual place. Well, now to planning on how to break in . . .”

Ghost and Rodolfo had begun to discuss the plan with the rest of you. There were some times you suggested a different route, which they agreed on. Hesh had asked some questions that Soap quickly answered, seemingly already friendly with one another. Whereas Keegan and Logan remained silent the whole time, curtly nodding in agreement with the plan. Then the group questioned what you planned to do about Graves, you spoke out your part, which they hesitantly accepted, but became part of the action. You smiled at the men’s interactions, taking you back to the time you would always discuss the plan with the Ghosts.

“So, we good?” You raised a thumb.

Rodolfo nodded. “Seems good, and a good time for late introductions.” He extended a hand to Hesh. “Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra. Second-in-Command of the Los Vaqueros.”

“Lieutenant David Walker.” Your brother took the Mexican’s hand, giving it a shake. “You can call me Hesh. And this is my younger brother, Logan. A Sergeant.” He motioned at the man beside him, who took off his mask. Hesh let go of Rudy and let Logan shake hands with him next. Then, he pointed at you. “Adopted sister. Found her around four years ago, like a stray cat on the sewers—”

“Shut the fuck up, sunuvabeetch,” you rapped at him.

But he ignored your words and patted Keegan’s shoulder. “Sergeant Keegan P. Russ.”

“I can introduce myself,” Keegan rolled his eyes and extended a hand at Rudy, nodding. “At your service.”

“So, you’re a Lieutenant,” Soap smiled widely, placing a hand on Hesh’s shoulder and reaching a hand at him. Hesh dapped it and they pulled one another close as though they were long-time friends, patting each other’s back. “Sergeant Johnny Mactavish. Call me Soap.”

“Aha!” David pointed at him as they moved away from each other, then at you. “That’s why you’re called Shampoo!”

You sighed. “Shut up.”

“No.” With that, he turned Soap away from you. “I saw all of that earlier, you know? The kiss, the way you look. I say,” he patted his back again while nodding, “start questioning your preference. She’s a gorilla on the loose—”

“I heard that!” You yelled. “Shut the hell—”

He immediately turned to you. “Shut the fuck up! Don’t you have anything better to say?”

You gasped at him. “Bitch!”

Yet, he ignored you turning back to Soap. “But I don’t mind another brother-in-law? Logan!” He turned to his brother. “Do you mind?”

“Another?” Soap echoed the only word that went through his ears.

Logan shook his head.

“What the actual fuck?” You mumbled, watching Logan approach Soap as well. He might be quiet, but he was as much of a gremlin as his older brother. 

“Y’lots are siblings, alright,” Ghost commented, standing beside you with crossed arms.

You were about to answer, raising a finger to make a point, but Keegan, on your other side, was faster. “Tell me about it.”

You put down your arm. Well, this could work as a temporary Ghost-Keegan sandwich. You cleared your throat and looked up at the two of them, eyes going back and forth between the two. You watched them share a glance and then gaze down at you. You swallowed, your heart slightly running faster—heck, skipping at this point like a jolly little kid. “Well,” you began. “Lt., meet Keegan. Keegan, meet Ghost—oh shit, wait!” You grabbed the two of them. “This is where it gets good!” You dragged them towards the Walkers warning the McRooster about you, and somehow they had pulled Rudy with them, who was shaking his head so hard. “Guys!”

They turned to you.

“Okay, Ghost.” You pointed at Simon as you formed a circle with them. “Meet the Ghosts.” You gestured both of your hands to the Walkers and Russ, and he looked over the three. “And you Ghosts, plural, meet the Lt. Ghost, Singular. Well, I guess you guys are native English speakers—oh, wait!” You pointed at the singular again. “British. Bo'ohw'o'wo'er.” Then, you motioned at the plurals, and you heard Soap snort a laugh. “Americans. What the fuck is kilometer.” You raised both thumbs and flashed them a wide grin, before covering your mouth, holding back the cackle threatening to escape from you.

Soap turned away from the circle, his body trembling, trying to stop himself from laughing. “Oh, good lord.” He wiped his face down with his hand and settled it down on his mouth, muffling another snort. Because of him, Hesh had turned away as well.

“So, Ghost, Ghost, Ghost, Ghost?” Rudy pointed at each of them, then you. “And you?”

“Ghost.” You copied his movements. “Ghost, Ghost, Ghost, Ghost, Ghost.”

“Spider-man meme,” Logan croaked, pointing at you.

You pointed both fingers at him. “Spider-man meme!”

“Ay, fantasmas,” Rodolfo breathed out and walked away.

(Ghosts)

“Bloody Hell,” Simon grumbled and turned away, following the Mexican. Keegan shook his head at the rest of you and followed behind the Lt.

Soap and Hesh finally burst into a fit of laughter.

“Wait, wait!” You chased after the three. “What do you call ghosts’ favorite dessert? Ice Scream! GYAHAHAHAHA!”

“I’ll go first,” Keegan said, jumping down the hatch and holding onto the ladder.

“So you can admire my ass when I go down?” you questioned, watching him roll his eyes and slide down.

He hit the bottom with a soft thud. “My ass is better than yours.”

You scoffed, following the rest of them who had already gone down, leaving Rodolfo behind to watch out. You carefully landed, walking behind him, and mumbled, “I’m not even offended at this point.”

You whipped your head up to see if Rodolfo was getting down as well but staggered on your feet. Suddenly, the world seemed to have rotated, dots of black scattered on your sight, and a pang of pain hit your head like a bat. Chills went down your spine, sweat quickly formed thick on your skin. You stopped in your tracks, blinking the dimness in your eyes away that wasn’t the work of the room, and let out a shaky breath. You clenched and relaxed your fists.

Fuck.

Then, Hesh’s voice echoed in your ears—a bit muted—but you managed to take in some words, about you loving Keegan’s ass. It sounded more like a complaint than anything. Well, if he had a girlfriend and would yap at you and Logan about the girl just as much as you yapped at the Walkers about Keegan and your fictional husbands, you would also want to rip our ears out and stuff them in his mouth to make him shut up.

Then again, Hesh was more of a devoted son and older brother than a person who would want a lover. But you couldn’t deny when you went with him and the rest of the Ghosts in pubs, the ladies loved him and Kick. You didn’t bother replying to him as Simon announced that he found the security building ahead.

Keep your head yapping. Keep it running.

The group slipped out of the watch tower, blending in the night, as phantoms would do, and as though with padded feet like cats, you positioned yourselves outside the metal door of the security room.

“Two inside,” Soap claimed. “Use short-range weapons.”

“Walkers,” Keegan demanded, nodding at the brothers.

Without a word, they carefully slipped inside and shot both Shadows through their heads in perfect sync. A fucking sight to see all the time.

You whistled and stepped inside the room, then grimaced at the scent of cigarettes sneaking up to your nostril. “God, cancer sticks,” you groaned, wrinkling your nose and stopping yourself from inhaling as you took position before one of the laptops on the table. But with the colorful keyboard shining before you, you squinted your eyes and inhaled loudly. “RGB? In a prison?” You wiped the blood that splattered on the screen and glanced down at the corpses by your feet, creating little lakes of blood. Letting the curiosity beat you, you reached down on them, turning their bodies to look for their badges. You clicked your tongue when you read their call signs. Not the one who shot you.

“Know them?” Ghost asked, taking the place beside you.

You shook your head. “No.” You patted their pockets, felt some flat yet bulky objects in, and fished them out. You stashed them under your vest.

“Wallets, what are you going to do with them?” he asked as Soap and Rodolfo tapped into the cameras and took their seats before the laptops, ready to guide the way in. Logan also volunteered during the planning to stay with them and help with the computers, given that Kick had taught him well during break times with the Ghosts.

“You’ll know,” you mumbled under your breath and stepped out of the room, not able to take the smell of the room anymore. You didn’t know how these men could. You took a deep breath, glad for the fresh air aside from the subtle scent of rust and blood lingering, and awaited at the gate for Hesh, Russ, and Riley to follow you out. Once they did, Ghost cut off the lock and moved out of the way as he pushed the gate open, gesturing to you to come in first.

You nodded at him and padded towards a huge crate, peeking around its corner. You spotted one shadow beside a truck ahead, but in your ears, Soap announced there were two—the other was hidden behind the open doors of the vehicle. You signed at Ghost who was behind you, and you both sneaked towards the truck. You struck the knife down the Shadow’s throat and covered his mouth to muffle his noises, which soon died down as his body went limp.

You grunted at the sudden weight but managed to put the man down carefully to avoid unnecessary sounds. You frowned at yourself. Your hands were sweating and shaking under your gloves, and you clenched around your gun to steady them. You rushed after Ghost, and with Soap and Rudy looking out for the Shadows in the cameras, you and the boys got to work on wiping them out.

They didn’t need a burden now. You could not be. You needed to keep proving yourself, to keep their trust running to help you. To keep yourself from getting killed. To keep you safe from your father. To help you put him under the ground.

But what if, this whole thing, you were the one putting them in danger instead? Should you have been honest from the start? No, you tried that with Shepherd, knowing his history with your father, but drew blood out of you instead. What about John? Did he really believe you or was that just an act? Did he truly tell Ghost or was it a lie to keep Rodolfo off your back?

Fuck, were you even doing the right thing? Yes. No. Yes. Yes. Damn it. How would you keep them safe—the Task Force and the Ghosts—while asking for their help, when you couldn’t even keep helping yourself and keeping yourself safe from you?

“. . . gon . . . dragon . . . Snapdragon! Walker Four!”

Someone shook you and smacked the back of your head, making the pain in your head come back with a throb. You gazed up at the assaulter and found a pair of sage eyes frowning down at you.

“What the fuck?” You croaked, but more to yourself than to him. You turned away from your brother, patting his arm off. “What the fuck.”

“Oh, see, she's gone mad, she's becoming a parrot—ow!” Hesh yelped and rubbed the back of his head where Keegan struck him.

Once again, you repeated the same words, eyes scanning the surroundings once again, and noticed that you had subconsciously followed them to the entrance of the main prison. You glanced down at your hands, slick with blood and sweat.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Keep your mind running. Keep it focused. Not go spiraling in your thoughts that you would become a fucking machine to kill people!

You weren't a tool.

You weren't a weapon.

You approached the group and noticed Rodolfo and Soap had already joined. When? You didn't know. God, where had your mind run off to? Just as Ghost voiced out his command, you flung your palm to your cheek, hard and loud, making him stop instantly. All of them stared at you as though you pointed a gun at yourself.

“Sorry,” you cleared your throat, ignoring the throbbing pain on your head—not from David's hit but something else—the chill you were feeling, the sting on your shoulder, and now the ache you inflicted upon yourself.

“Stay frosty,” he demanded and bashed his hand against the metal door.

You nodded and aimed at the door as it opened, blasting the head of the Shadow that peeked through the crack. The group rushed inside in a hurry and as soon as you all turned to the corner, echoes of guns filled the air. You threw out a grenade, breathing heavily, and aimed ahead.

You fired several rounds and slid behind crates, looking out for the enemies of the second deck. You ducked your head as bullets rushed towards you, hitting the walls and crates. Then, you saw Keegan rushing ahead, with perfect timing as he slid into the open space, he shot down several men with minimal waste. With that, the Walkers followed through, creating a path for the 141 and Rudy.

You got off behind the crates and aimed at the men emerging from the upper level. You waited for more as the others ascended the stairs and no one came. You trailed after them, but as though your feet had stuck on the floor—became heavy and hard to move, you tripped on the flight of stairs. Yet, before you hit the corners, a hand grabbed your arm, pulling you upright. You peered at Logan, brown eyes squinting at your face, concern evident in their dark colors.

“Are you? . . .” he started, and oh, God, you knew if he started asking how anyone was, it was obvious that a person wasn't in good status.

You shook your head, hearing Hesh call at the both of you in the middle of the staircase, knowing the conversation happening between the both of you. Goddamn, you couldn't hide anything from these two. “Don't tell anyone,” you told the younger Walker and continued to climb up the stairs.

Several gunshots rang, then thuds, and you found the group in a room. Ghost took position before a metal door and took his tool out, easily cutting the lock off. Soap rushed in and a familiar shout came inside the room along with the Sergeant.

Rudy had also stepped in and you watched him grab Alejandro away from Soap, calming him down just as the Colonel recognized the Scot.

“Sup,” you waved a hand at the Colonel as he stepped out of his confinement.

“Snapdragon,” he nodded at you, then frowned at the unfamiliar faces in the room. “What do we have here?”

“Allies,” Rodolfo answered, giving you a nod as well. “Her friends.”

“I see,” Alejandro extended a hand to you, which you shook. “Gracias, Hermana.”

“Anytime, sir.” You smiled at him, but glanced to the side, looking at the several doors in the hallway ahead. “Where's Graves?”

“He's here.” Rodolfo gestured at the door across Alejandro's prison.

“You go in for him,” Ghost ordered

You nodded and gazed over your shoulder, raising a hand at the Ghosts. You knew, they knew what had happened between you and Graves—putting you in prison on behalf of Shepherd only to pull you out and make you one of his mercenaries. Considering that, the moment they see the Shadow himself, they might empty their magazine on him till Phillip becomes unrecognizable. They remained silent and you turned back to Simon.

Ghost positioned the tool on the lock and with much ease, he snapped it off.

You pulled the door open and whipped your eyes to the wall on the side where Graves pushed himself off.

“Snapdra—”

You wrapped your hands around his throat and squeezed, slamming him against the wall where he came from. “Motherfucker! Bastard! Fool, this is why I told you to watch your fucking back from Shepherd! AAAAAAAAAAA—”

Next Chapter / Archive of Our Own / Discord

Taglist: @yyiikes @the-faceless-bride @cassiecasluciluce @annoyingstrawberryballoon @unicorngirly1 @thriving-n-jiving @squidalapobre @tallicaside @eustassh

[shittyassffblog]

Free Bird

Noah Sebastian x Reader

I felt horny as shit and couldn't stop myself so here is some smut with Noah <3

Warnings: P in v sex, use of Y/N, best friend!noah, oral sex

Pt 2 here

"And you can take your lame ass excuses and shove them up your ass! We're done! Goodbye!" You hung up and threw your phone on your bed, emitting a loud, frustrated and high pitched groan. You heard your PC ping on your desk and you glanced at it to see what was going on. It was Discord that alerted you that you had a message.

noah: wanna come on?

You stared at it, kind of angry that he didn't anticipate that you had just broken up with your boyfriend, but the rational part of you spoke louder and decided to just tell him you weren't in the mood.

you: naw, bad day. talk to u later tho <3

He was already typing so you sat in your chair and waited for his reply.

noah: at least call me and tell me what happened, maybe I can make your day better?

You bit your lip as you considered his offer. He was your best friend since you met at the Hot Topic you used to work at. He was just a tall, lanky emo buying A Day To Remember merch and you instantly had a connection with him. Since then, you started being friends and talking to each other every day. It's been 10 years now and you meant the world to each other. You had supported him through everything when it came to Bad Omens and you were so proud of how far he and the boys have come. So given how close you were you decided to just call him.

You put on your headset and glanced in the mirror beside your desk to see if it was noticeable that you'd been crying and decided that it wasn't. Not even five seconds passed after you pressed the "video call" button and he picked up.

"Hey sweets, what's up? Wanna talk about your bad day?" Noah asked and you sighed. You didn't even know where to start.

"Me and Chase broke up." You said shortly and Noah was silent for a while.

"Oh. Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice. Noah never liked your boyfriend and you knew that. You were half expecting him to clap in enjoyment.

"Not really. I was kind of expecting you to congratulate me." You said, still not looking at him.

"Why would I do that? You don't seem like this was a happy choice." He said.

"I broke up with him. But he cheated." You said and a tear fell down your cheek.

"God he's such a dick. But good for you that you left him. That doesn't mean that you're not allowed to be upset by it though." Noah said and you looked at him with tearful eyes. You were about to answer him when you heard a loud noise coming from him.

"Alright that's it, I'm coming over." He said, slamming his fist in his table.

"But it's 11 pm?" You said, almost as a question.

"Yeah well my best friend is sad over her shitty ex boyfriend, you don't think that warrants me coming over with pizza and booze? C'mon, what kind of a friend would I be? I'll be there soon. Love you!" He said and hung up before you could answer You sighed as the silence settled in your room and you looked around. You noticed Noahs hoodie hanging on your lamp and you decided to put it on. You walked into your bathroom to access the damage of your tears and found that it wasn't too bad. You wiped away a few stray tears with your sleeve and walked into your living room, seeing a few of your ex' stuff lying around. You grabbed a box from you last amazon shipment and filled it with everything you could find, including the stupid Five Finger Death Punch t-shirt he had given you, thinking you'd like it. As if. He didn't even know the bands you listened to.

Amid your rage cleaning, you heard the doorbell ring and you stopped as you dropped a shoe into the box. You looked at it and the memories of your past relationship came flooding back, as did your tears. You went to let Noah in and he immediately went to hug you.

"I'm so sorry you're going through this." He said and kissed the top of your head as the hood of his hoodie fell down. You cried into his chest and he rubbed his hand along your arm.

After a while he lead you to the couch and set down the pizza and beer bottle he had picked up for you on the coffee table.

"Wanna tell me what happened? How did you find out?" Noah asked, separating from you to wipe away your tears.

"She fucking DM'ed me. The girl he was with, her name was Emily or something. She had slept with him and then found him on Facebook to find that it said he was in a relationship and decided to tell me about it and apologised. Of course i don't blame her, she didn't know. But man, it just felt like a knife in my gut." You said, sniffing. Noah grabbed a napkin from the coffee table and handed it to you to help you blow your nose.

"Then did you call him?" Noah asked, taking the pizza out of the bag so you could use the bag as a trash can your your snotty paper.

"Yeah and I spent like 20 minutes yelling at him. He tried saying something like she was lying or something but she had sent me screenshots of him asking to pick her up or something." You finished and Noah sighed, pulling you in for another hug.

"He's isn't worth your tears c'mon. You're far too good of a catch to let a guy like that ruin you." Noah said and you smiled up at him. The doorbell rung again and you looked at Noah quizzically. He got up and opened the door for you. It was Chase. You felt your whole body stiffen.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me." Noah said, immediately tensing his body. Chase only laughed when he saw Noah, and then looked over at you.

"Really Y/N? Not even an hour later and you're already on to the next one? Knew I couldn't trust you, fucking bitch." He said and before you could answer, Noah had pushed Chase out the door.

"Yeah you don't get to make accusations you know nothing about. I think you should leave." Noah said, his words and tone calm but his body ready for whatever Chase could come up with.

"I knew there was more to this...thing, you and her call a friendship, so much for the bro code huh?" Chase said, trying to upset Noah.

"Don't think for a second I think of you as a bro. Not for one damn second. It is very easy to treat a woman right without expecting something in return and you couldn't even do that so leave." Noah said, pushing Chase once more. You couldn't do much but watch as everything happened. You were frozen.

"You're just gonna sit there looking stupid? What's wrong with you bitch, say something!" Chase yelled, charging forward towards you but was stopped in his tracks as Noah grabbed a handfull of his hair and dragged him outside. You ran to the door to see what was going on and Noah forced Chase down on the ground, got down on one knee and grabbed his throat.

"You leave her alone. Got it?" Chase nodded weakly and as soon as Noah let go and stood up, he ran as fast as he could. Noah walked quickly into the living room, grabbed the box of Chase's things and threw them after him.

"Don't think about coming back." He yelled and watched as Chase pathetically picked his stuff up from the ground. Noah walked back to you, taking a deep breath to calm down and grabbed your face.

"Are you okay? Did he always talk to you like that?" He asked calmly and you nodded.

"He has anger issues." You said meekly and Noah wrapped you in his arms.

"Let's devour that pizza now, shall we?" Noah asked and you smiled at him as you nodded.

"Didn't know you were that strong though." You said, trying to lighten the mood.

"I may or may not have been working out while I was on tour." He said flexing his arms playfully. You laughed as you sat down to enjoy the pizza.

--

A few days passed and you were doing surprisingly well. Noah was practicing for the next leg of the tour and you were setting up dating profiles. You decided that you needed a palate cleanser to get rid of the "chase cooties" as Noah called it when he suggested you try it. You were apprehensive at first but ultimately decided it was a good idea.

You were in your kitchen waiting for your leftovers to heat up in the microwave as you were swiping on tinder. No one really captured your eye except this one guy with a dragon tattooed on his neck. His name was Steven and he was not far from you. You decided to swipe on him, and not long after your microwave dinged so you locked your phone and went to eat it. As you sat by your counter and ate your food, a notification came up that Steven had matched with you. Not long after he sent you a message.

Steven: Hey, nice tats. Wanna grab a drink this week?

You stared at the message. No emojis. He had two pictures on his profile, but it linked to his instagram. You looked through and he seemed real enough so you said yes to the drink.

You planned to meet the following friday and you texted Noah to let him know where you'd be in case something happened.

Noah: go get em tiger! get ur dick wet!

You laughed at his message and sent a gif saying 'disgustang'.

Friday came and you were getting dressed for your date. You put on some dark red lipstick and a low cut top Chase never allowed you to wear and headed out the door. You felt very liberated that you could make your own choices again and happily waited for Steven a few blocks away from your apartment.

Not long after a black sports car Xoomed up to your and packed right in front of you. A very attractive man with a dragon on his neck emerged from the car.

"Y/N?" He asked and you nodded. He walked around the car and grabbed your hand to kiss it. "Pleasure to meet you, gorgeous." he said and you blushed.

"Likewise." You said and he smiled while opening the car door for you.

Not long after you arrived at the bar and he ordered you a drink and a beer for himself. You talked for a while and had a genuinely good conversation. You went to the bathroom and texted Noah an update and he sent a sports gif of a tiger mascot. You laughed and put your phone in your pocket, ready to get out the guy again.

When you came back, Steven started asking you some personal questions. At first you didn't think much of it, but the question got more and more sexual and you were feeling quite uncomfortable. When you answers got more and more short and cold he started berating you, asking why you were such a prude and generally being a dick to you.

"Do you think you just get free drinks and then that's it? No no, you gotta do something for me too sweetheart." He said and you picked up your phone, texting Noah to come get you.

"You don't seem like a very nice person." You said, finishing your drink and locking eyes with the bartender. He nodded at you, meaning he would keep an eye on you.

"I'm very nice, trust me, but only to nice girls, not gold diggers like you." He bit back and you put on your jacket. You didn't answer him, only stared at him.

"What you're just not gonna say anything?" He asked and you still didn't answer. The bartender came over.

"Hey so I think you should leave now." Said the bartender and Steve looked up at him like he was dumb.

"You can't kick me out, I didn't do anything." He said, rolling his eyes and looking back at you.

"Yes we can , we have the right to refuse service to anyone for any reason. So leave." He said back and you started to feel scared of what Steven would do.

"Let me speak to your manager." said Steven and the bartender agreed. Steven got up and went to the bar, and while he was arguing with the bar manager you slipped out, waiting for Noah. Just as you got outside, he pulled up and you got into the car,

"Hey sweets, how was it?" Noah teased and you rolled your eyes.

"Horrible, he was a giant dick." You said, grabbing the water bottle Noah brought for you. You took a giant gulp of it.

"What do you mean?" Noah asked as he drove you home.

"He was just horrible, I don't really wanna talk about it. " You said, and he nodded, respecting your privacy, You would talk about it when you wanted to.

"Don't let this one guy deter you from online dating though. It can be really fun you know." Noah said and you scoffed.

"Yeah for guys maybe." You said coldly and Noah glanced at you. He knew you didn't mean anything by it.

"Wanna elaborate?" He asked and you sighed.

"Well it's just, for guys it's fine, you can just order women to do what you want and if they don't want to it's on to the next one and then you put your dick in them and then that's that. For women it's like, if I reject this guy, will I be dead by the time the sun comes up?" You said huffing. Noah nodded in understanding.

"I mean I know that's a real fear that women have and that sucks a lot, but there must be a space where you can have fun too right?" He asked carefully. He didn't want to seem like he wasn't empathetic to your pain, but he still wanted to help you get over your ex.

"Yeah with a person you trust sure. But online dating is a rapists wet dream." you said. "And even then, sex isn't even worth that much."

Noah looked at you quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I just never felt that big climax that people talk about. I guess my orgasms aren't very intense when I have sex." You said and Noah looked questioningly at you while still keeping an eye on the road.

"Well what about when you're alone?" He asked and you looked at him. Might as well be honest now, you thought.

"Yeah then I feel great, but when I'm with someone it's like it's just there a little, then it gets kind of good but then they're done." You said shrugging your shoulders. Noah let out a noise you had never heard before.

"You never had anyone give you an orgasm?" Noah asked incredulously.

"Well I don't know. Maybe?" You said. "I've only ever been with Chase." You said. And Noahs eyes were bigger than you've ever seen them before. You were arriving at your house and he put the car in park.

"What about when he ate you out?" Noah asked, genuinely curious.

"Chase thought it was gross. Don't you?" You asked, turning your body a little. He looked at you like you were crazy.

"What?" You asked.

"I love eating pussy, it's my favourite passtime!" He said and you laughed.

"What do you mean? Does it even taste good?" You asked and he nodded wildly

"Yeah I mean it depends a lot but generally yeah I like the taste." Noah said.

"Well, Chase never liked it so we didn't do it." You said, crossing your legs. Noah chuckled a little.

"He really was a little bitch huh. You deserve someone who loves eating your pussy." He said, grabbing your leg, like he'd done many times before, but this time it was different. This time his hand shot electricity up your thigh, making you squirm a little in your seat.

"Would...Would you show me?" You asked and his grip on your thigh tightened. You glanced a little at him and you could see his jaw tightened.

"I uh..I don't know if that's a good idea Y/N." He said and you looked at him properly. He wouldn't meet your eyes, but his hand stayed where it was.

"C'mon Noah. I've clearly missed out on a lot. Show me." You asked, getting closer to him. You didn't know where all this confidence came from, or why you wanted your best friends mouth on you so bad, but you did. He turned to look at you, but his eyes were trained on your lips. He let out a shaky breath and let go of your leg. You leaned back, afraid you had upset him or made him uncomfortable, but he was taking off his seat belt.

"I'll show you. But just this once, I don't wanna ruin our friendship. And we don't mention it to anyone." He said and you grinned, unbuckling your own seat belt and got out of his car. You already felt yourself getting excited.

"Wow you are really horny huh?" Noah said as he locked the car, holding out his arm to wrap it around your shoulder as he walked you inside. You unlocked the door and led him to your bedroom.

As you closed the door, he sat himself on the bed. You sat beside him and a kind of awkward silence fell between you. You felt like you kind of sobered up by the reality of what you had asked your best friend to do.

"If this is gonna ruin our friendship we could just forget it or something." You said, not meeting Noah eye. He looked at you for a moment not answering.

"We could also just agree to not let it ruin our friendship. This is a one time thing, to show you what you should expect from guys that you date in the future, and to get to know each other better." Noah said, and you were surprised he seemed to have thought this through.

"That doesn't sound too bad." You said, looking down at your hands. He reached over and held one of them, squeezing it to make you look at him.

"I love you, Y/N. I want to keep being friends so this will just be two people having fun for a night and then never doing it again, right?" He asked with a sweet smile and you nodded. He smiled a little wider and before you knew it, he was leaning in, closing his eyes in the process.

"Woah what are you doing?" You said, pulling away. He opened his eyes and looked at you quizzically.

"Well I need to turn you on before we begin, only way I know how to do that is to kiss you first, is that okay?" He asked softly. When he said it, it makes sense. But no one ever did this with you. Cared for your pleasure like this. It was different.

"Y-yeah, that's umm...that's okay." You stuttered out, and he smiled again, this time moving closer to you and lightly grabbing your chin with his thumb og index finger. You let yourself relax and Noah do what he wanted to. He seemed to know best. When his lips touched yours it was light and soft, yet had passion. Like he wanted something you didn't know to give him, and it was his job to pull it from you. You kissed back, and before you knew it, his tongue was in your mouth. You had thought about kissing Noah before, but this was way different than what you had imagined. Good different, but different.

His hand on your chin fell to your neck, tracing down your arm and landed itself on your waist. He pulled, as if to get you to move closer. Already this was way better than what you had experienced before, Noah clearly knew what he was doing. You wondered where he had learned it, but decided to not ask. This was too nice.

A soft moan fell from his lips and you were brought back from your train of thought. His lips left yours and for a second you thought about whining, but when his lips attached to your jaw, right below your ear and then your neck, that whine quickly turned into a moan.

"Sensitive on your neck?" He asked and you let out a breathy sound that was supposed to be a laugh. He went right back to kissing your neck, teeth getting involved sometimes and the moans that were falling from your lips were fewer between.

"Can I take your shirt off?" Noah asked and you nodded. He smiled and grabbed the hem of your shirt, lifting it up over your head. "It's a shame though." He said, eyeing up your chest.

"What is?" You asked, kind og dazedly.

"Taking your shirt off. You looked really good in it. Why don't you ever dress like that for me?" He asked smirking while laying you down on your back, leaning over you.

"Well I don't make it a habit of sleeping with my best friend." You said smiling slightly.

"You should, he's enjoying it so far." He joked and you laughed while he kissed you between your breasts. "Can I take off your bra too?" He asked, looking up at you. His voice was low, which only made this all the more enticing. You nodded slowly, laying your head back to try and think of something else besides your best friend looking at your tits. You lifted your back little so he could fit his arm under it and unclasp your bra. He slowly guided the straps down your arms, a soft groan emitting from his lips.

"Goddamn, if I knew you were hiding these under your baggy hoodies we would have done this a long time ago." Noah said, and you laughed a little.

"Yeah cause when we met at 14 my tits were definitely this size, right." You joked, but your sentence ended with a gasp as his lips closed around one nipple while his hand massaged the other. He was soft about it all, like licking a soft serve ice cream. It caused you to mewl, which Chase could never have done to you. It was like Noah knew how to handle your body, without ever asking you.

"Kinda wanna think about your adult tits right now if you don't mind?" He said as he shifted to the other nipple. You chuckled at that and let him do his thing. He moved on to your stomach and when he reached the edge of your pant he stopped and looked up at you yet again asking, "Is this okay? can I take your pants off?" You nodded and lifted your ass, his slender, tattooed fingers grasping the edge of your pants and pulling them down, kissing just above the edge of your underwear.

"These too?" He asked and you laughed a little.

"You gonna ask every time you do something new?" You asked and he stopped what he was doing to look at you.

"Yes, how else do I know what I have consent for?" He asked.

"That is the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me ever." You said and he laughed.

"You gotta raise your standards babe." He said, going back to kissing the lower part of your stomach. "You gonna answer my question?" He asked, running his hands up and down your legs.

"I forgot what the question was." You said truthfully. He laughed as he rested his head again your hip.

"I asked if I could take off your underwear too." He said, and your heart started beating faster.

"Uh yeah. Yeah that's okay." You said. The seriousness of the situation was starting to settle in and you were kind of nervous. When he pulled off your underwear it would be crossing a line that has never been crossed before and it couldn't ever be uncrossed again. Noah could sense your hesitation so he stopped.

"If you wanna stop, tell me. It's no fun if you're not having fun." He said and you knew he meant it.

"No it's okay I'm just kind of nervous." You admitted and he came back up to your face.

"Hey. It's just me. It'll be okay." He said smiling and you smiled back, taking in a deep breath as he lowered his body again, kissing along your body as he did so. He grabbed the hem of your underwear and pulled them down. You were worried he would be repulsed by then smell of you, but when you looked down at him all you could see was hunger in his eyes. It made you feel better to know that he didn't care about the smell, so you tried to relax in his presence.

He kissed the inside of your thigh, grabbing them both and pushing up so you bend your knees. You felt very exposed, and you wished he would just get on with it.

"So pretty baby. Can't wait to taste you." He said and it made your stomach soar. Did he really not find it gross?

"You know, you don't have to do this either, like if it's too gross for you or something." You said, biting your lip. You wanted him to continue, but you understood if he didn't want to.

"I don't wanna stop. And nothing about this perfect pussy could be gross." He said, kissing up your other thigh. You took a deep breath and let him do as he pleased.

He kissed your pussy as if he was knocking for entrance, and spread your legs further. He then started at your clit, licking small, tentative licks as to not overwhelm you. When you sighed in pleasure he took that as a sign he could continue, and let his tongue wander down to your entrance and licked into you.

"Oh my god." You said, already it felt better than it has with anyone else. It seemed to urge Noah to go further, so he licked a big broad stripe up your pussy and you hummed.

"Oh Noah it feels so good." You said lowly and he smiled. A devilish smile, one that you felt was too cocky for his own good but you were struggling to care. He pleasured you with such patience, the tight feeling in your stomach building and building and you almost thought he was a magician, as fast as he was getting you worked up.

What you didn't expect was the finger that was circling your opening before entering you gently.

"Holy fuck, Noah." You said and he hummed a soft 'hmm?' as if asking what was the issue.

"Oh you make me feel so good Noah." You said and his finger slid into you further and further, stopping and then curling, reaching a spot inside you that made your whole body writhe. He was rubbing the spot, not letting one movement of his finger go without touching it.

"What the fuck Noah?" You asked, sitting half up as you grabbed his hair to keep yourself grounded. He detached himself from your pussy and smiled up at you.

"That feel good baby?" He asked, his eyelids hanging low on his eyes. You could do nothing but nod as the movements of his fingers didn't halt for even a second while he took at good look at you. He went back to your clit, this time sucking on it gently and making your hips buck up into his face. It only seemed to spur him on, as his movements sped up. You felt a familiar feeling coming and you tangled your fingers in Noah’s hair, pulling when he hit a particularly nice spot inside you.

“Noah, I’m so close.” You warned, and he sped up yet again, only he stopped sucking your clit and instead look at you through heavy eyelids, right into yours. You were a moaning mess, not being able to control it anymore as you came on his fingers, yelling his name out. He helped you through your orgasm and when you were panting for air he slowly pulled his finger out of you and made sure you saw him lick it clean. You couldn’t believe what just happened, your best friend just gave you the orgasm of your life.

“How in the hell did you do that?” You asked him, still not being able to catch your breath.

“Well practice makes perfect I guess” he said laughing. You laughed with him and he came up to lay beside you. A silence fell between you, but it wasn’t awkward. You were still coming down from your high and you noticed Noah shifting a little, seeming restless.

“You okay over there?” You asked and he looked at you with a little blush on his face.

“Well, I told you I love eating pussy” he said chuckling slightly as he readjusted himself in his shorts You considered your options. You could leave the room, pretend you had to pee and let him do his thing. Or…

“You want help with that?” You asked, turning to him. He looked at you, searching your eyes for any sort of insincerity, but he couldn’t find any. He nodded slowly and you smiled, reaching hesitantly over to kiss his lips. You tasted yourself on him, and you couldn’t imagine what Chase would have against the taste, it was not bad at all. You were taken by surprise when Noah wrapped his arms around you and pulled you on top of him, deepening the kiss.

“You are wearing far too many clothes.” You said between kisses and he hummed a sound of agreement. You pulled off his hoodie and went right back to kissing him, hungry for him in a way you never were for anyone else. He grabbed two handfuls of your ass, not caring if his grip left bruises on it, grinding you down onto the bulge in his shorts. It made you moan into his mouth, giving him an opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth. You grinded on him as your tongues pushed against each other, revelling in this new feeling with each other. It felt liberating, to not care where the line was or how far it was crossed.

"How do you wanna do this? Hm?" Noah asked, and you were confused by what he meant.

"What?" Was all you could muster out, being out of breath.

"Do you wanna have sex?" Noah asked directly this time and you thought about it for only a second before nodding wildly. He smiled at that and rolled you around, getting up from the bed to undress fully. You could not contain your stare, and you wanted to touch yourself so bad. He had clearly been working out on tour, his once lanky frame was replaced by the lean muscles of his arms, his legs were carved like a god and the tattoos definitely only made it better.

"Touch yourself for me." Noah said which brought you back to reality.

"What?" You asked, wondering if you had heard him correctly. He couldn't possibly mean that, right?

"If you're comfortable, then touch yourself for me. Want to see you pleasure yourself." He said as he pulled off his underwear. You didn't dare look, afraid it would make him uncomfortable so you looked at the ceiling as your hand travelled from your stomach down to your core. You ran your fingers along your clit in a circular motion and you felt the bed dip as he came to lay beside you.

"You're such a good girl Y/N. You really are. Look at you, doing exactly what I told you. Such a good girl." Noah whispered in your ear and it only made your fingers speed up.

"You have a condom sweetheart?" He asked and you pointed towards the nightstand you had by your bed. He turned around to grab one, and while we was distracted you took at look at his member and let out a moan you didn't mean to let out. He was big, bigger than Chase and you could barely imagine it would fit. You fingers stilled as your gaze was caught on his thick cock.

"What's wrong sweets?" Noah asked, rubbing his thumb along your thigh.

"Oh nothing uhh, nothing." You said, smiling at him. He could tell it wasn't nothing though.

"Hey, you can tell me, do you want to stop?" He asked, and you shook your head furiously.

"No! No no, I'm just, nervous I guess." You admitted, looking down. He turned to hug you and kissed your forehead.

"Nothing to be nervous about baby, it's just me." He said smiling.

"Will it fit though?" You asked sheepishly and his eyes shot to yours. You worried you had said something wrong.

"That is the hottest shit i've ever heard." He said, kissing your lips. You smiled into the kiss, your hands grabbing his face and letting the kiss overtake you. He rolled on top of you, slotting himself in between your legs, groping your body and worshipping the softness of your skin. He started grinding against your heat, pulling moans from your lips.

"God Noah, please do something." You whined and he smiled mischievously, kissing you one last time before sitting back on his knees and stroking his cock a few times before running it up and down your slit. This you knew how to do. This was familiar terretory. Or so you thought. He pushed into you slowly, relishing in the tightness of your pussy, and when he bottomed out, he let out a long groan, burying his face in your neck. You had never felt so cared for and filled to the brim with pleasure before. You were overwhelmed with emotion and felt tears spring to you eyes.

"You just tell me when I can move- hey are you okay?" Noah immediately changed demeanour when he saw your wet eyes.

"No yeah I'm good, really, I just...uhm I don't know why." You admitted and he smoothed down your hair to comfort you.

"Do you want to stop?" He asked and you shook your head, smiling at him.

"No it's okay, you can move. I promise I'm fine!" You assured him as he looked at you questioningly. He didn't seem convinced.

"I promise I'm fine Noah, I'm just a bit overwhelmed, no one ever took care of me like this before." You said, avoiding his eyes. He kissed your cheek.

"Okay, but you have to tell me if I have to stop okay? Can you promise that?" He asked, trying to catch your eyes. You nodded, and he smiled a comforting smile as he kissed your neck again.

"You can move." You said, and he pulled almost all the way out, only to slide right back in, in the same excruciatingly slow pace. You wrapped your legs around his lower back, boring your heels into him, desperate to have him fuck you senseless.

"Noah, please, c'mon." You plead and he chuckled.

"Tell me what you want baby." He murmured in your ear, his pace still as slow.

"Please fuck me Noah." You asked, looking him directly in the eyes. He looked back, and before long his hips picked up speed, pounding into you as you threw your head back in pleasure.

"Oh Noah!" You moaned, not caring how loud you were. If your neighbours heard, you'd hear about it in the morning. The sound of your moans only spurred Noah on, his thrusts relentless and his breath fast.

"Fuck Y/N. Fuck we're definitely doing this again." He said and you laughed breathlessly as you dug your nails into is back. He moved slightly and with that he started hitting a spot that felt incredible many times, over and over, eliciting screams from your throat.

"Holy fuck Noah, shit shit shit, fuck, oh fuck." You rambled and Noah kept up his thrusts, moving his hips back and forth. You could feel the feeling come back, the incredibly intense feeling in your core building and building, and before long your nails dragged along his back as you screamed out his name. Your pussy clenched around him and you couldn't hold back even if you tried. Your orgasm overflowed and wouldn't stop, you legs shaking as the intense waves of pleasure washed over you. Noah kept thrusting into you through your orgasm, and when you opened your eyes again he turned you around so he was under you.

"You okay?" He asked breathlessly and you nodded lazily.

"Yeah just...intense." You said smiling. "Did you..?" You asked.

"No not yet." He said smiling. "Are you okay to continue?" He asked.

"Yeah I'm okay." You said, moving your hips slowly. He grabbed your ass, holding onto you tight and lifting you a little and started pounding into you even more relentlessly. You could barely think straight as he used your pussy until he came into the condom, deep groan escaping his throat. His hips slowed down and he let you go, burying his now softening cock into you as he caught his breath.

"Holy shit Noah." You said out of breath ad he laughed.

"Was that okay?" He asked and you nodded, kissing him. You didn't know when would be the last time you got to kiss him like this again so you decided to enjoy as much as you could. He grabbed the base of the condom and told you to get off and you did. He removed the condom and wrapped it in some tissues you had on your nightstand, as well as wiping his dick. When he was done he looked over at you and smiled. You smiled back and you wrapped yourselves in each others arms, enjoying the bubble you two had created that no one could penetrate.

The morning after woke up alone, your clothes on the floor and a feeling of complete satisfaction, yet complete loneliness.

[chaos-chloe]

Goddess In the Kitchen

Summary: The atmosphere in the small house was filled with the soft hum of Grizzy’s streaming setup. His focus was glued to the vibrant screen, a world of digital adventures unfolding around him. In a kitchen not far away, the tantalizing aromas of a homemade meal wafted through the air, You had been busy preparing a feast.

Tw: Established Relationship

With a gentle knock on the door to his streaming room, I called out, “Grizzy, can I come in?”

“Absolutely, come on in!” came his enthusiastic reply, tinged with excitement that already made me smile.

I pushed open the door, stepping into his world. He paused, his gaze shifting from the screen to me, his eyes lighting up like fireworks on a summer night. There I stood in his doorway to his office, holding the steaming plates, haloed by warmth and love. 

“Whoa,” he exclaimed, his jaw dropping in exaggerated disbelief. “What is this? Are you a wizard? A culinary goddess? Because I was just about to order DoorDash, but now… now I’m not sure why I even thought about it!”

I chuckled softly, pride swelling in my chest as I placed the dish on his desk beside his gaming setup. “Just a little something I whipped up. I know you haven't eaten yet.”

Grizzy leaned back in his chair, momentarily forgetting about this live stream and his discord call; immersing himself in the present. “You are THIS close to being the perfect partner,” he joked, holding up his fingers, barely an inch apart. “Do you know what this means? I’m in the presence of culinary royalty.”

His playful worship made my heart flutter. “Royalty needs to eat,” I teased back, staring at the plate of my delicious spread. “Besides, I wouldn’t let you starve while you’re busy working, now would I?”

“No, absolutely not!” he declared, reaching for the plate I offered him. Taking the first bite, his eyes widened in utter astonishment, and he erupted into praise. “Oh, my stars! This is AMAZING! How do you do it? Like, are you secretly a chef? Am I dating Gordon Ramsay?”

I laughed, enjoying his theatrics, but trying to focus on the moment. “No fancy chefs here, just a girl who loves her boyfriend and knows his favorite meals.”

“Lucky me!” Grizzy exclaimed, his enthusiasm infectious. As he devoured the meal, he continued to send good-natured, exaggerated praises my way, lifting my spirits and filling the room with laughter. “I can’t believe I’ve been debating on takeout. This is the wife material I never knew I needed! You’ve set the bar so high, I don’t think I can ever have takeout again!”

“You’re too much,” I said, playfully rolling my eyes, my heart swelling with affection. “Just wait until I experiment with baking. That’s when my true power will be revealed!”

“Bring it on!” he cheered, diving back into his meal with renewed vigor. “I’m ready for the ultimate dessert showdown!”

As I laughed and shared bites of food, the energy in the room shifted from the digital lights of gaming to the warm, comforting glow of companionship.

“Sorry guys, back to the game and sorry chat. She is just amazing, I SWEAR!” I heard him yell in enthusiasm, as I was walking back to the kitchen; to put up leftovers and do the dirty dishes.

[couldsewyouastitch]

Things Left Unsaid [Javier Peña]

pairings: javier peña x f!reader wordcount: 2.3K ish warnings: strong language and profanity, sexist and misogynistic comments/workplace harassment, mentions of the hair lenght, references to violence and blood, implied trauma and PTSD, references to drug trafficking and criminal activity, sexual objectification, mild sexual content/references, descriptions of emotional distress, references to guns/weapons, smoking, cursing...

a/n: i wasn't sure if i wanted to post this because i am my own worst critic and i kept telling myself that i am not good enough to do so... but this was something that is somewhat inspired by a real event with real people, and i had to come to terms with knowing about it on one way or another... thanks to @thundermartini for reading the first draft and leaving me the most amazing message in my inbox after that. anyway, you know what to do, read, love, hate, like, reblog, send me a message, tell me what you think, comment...

main blog: savedyounine | discord: saveyouanine

masterlist

The house slouches on the block like a forgotten drunk. Tired. Unremarkable. Just another weary face in a city that’s seen too much. The pale blue paint peels in long, curling strips, exposing the wood beneath like old scars. A rusted metal gate leans off its hinges. The porch light flickers weakly. An afterthought. A dying firefly no one bothers to swat away.

It doesn’t call attention to itself. It doesn’t need to. Just another forgotten place in a city full of them.

Inside, the air is dense, weighted with old cigarette smoke and the scorched bitterness of coffee left too long on the burner. The walls have absorbed it all—years of nicotine, restless nights, and the kind of exhaustion that doesn’t fade, no matter how many hours of sleep one steals.

The overhead light buzzes, flickering at odd intervals, just enough to set your nerves on edge. Typewriters clatter—a mechanical heartbeat—while the wiretap machine hisses and spits out fragments of conversation. Men speaking in low, measured tones. Sicarios making arrangements. The price of a shipment. The price of a man’s life. Women with no names who belong to no one but get passed around anyway.

A burst of laughter cuts through the static—loud, careless. The sound of men who will never lose sleep over the dead.

Javier Peña leans against the kitchen counter, a cigarette hanging loose between his lips as he absently jabs at an omelet that’s already past saving. The eggs are burning, edges curling black against the scratched pan, but he doesn’t care. He’s only cooking because his stomach has been clawing at itself for hours, and the fridge holds nothing but warm beer and instant coffee. 

From the doorway, Steve Murphy watches Javier like he's watching a car wreck in slow motion.

"That smoke alarm’s gonna go off again." His voice is flat, tinged with something between amusement and resignation. 

Javier draws on his cigarette. Exhales through his nose. Waves the spatula at his partner without looking up. 

“Disconnected that piece of shit weeks ago.”

Murphy exhales, a sound caught between a snort and a sigh. “Of course you did.”

Javier glances at him, grinning around his cigarette. “You act surprised?”

Steve opens his mouth as if to answer, but stops when you walk in. 

Mariposa.

Javier never says the name out loud. Never lets it slip. He isn’t even sure where it came from—just that it stuck, somewhere in the back of his mind. Soft where everything else about you is sharp. A joke, maybe. Or irony. Because you don't fit the name. Don’t fit something delicate, something that belongs in sunlight. Not in this place. Not in this life.

You move through the room like you’re both there and not, like a ghost dragging its chains. A stack of files sits under one arm, paper edges curling like they’ve been handled too much. Your newly shorn hair sticks up in uneven tufts, and even now, the sight of it still throws him. Because he used to spot you instantly in a room full of men—just a glance, just the way your long hair caught the light. Now? Now you blend in. Disappear. 

But you weren’t always like this. 

A few weeks ago, they pulled you out of a raid looking like something that had been left behind in the wreckage. Blood poured down your face, dark where it mixed with sweat and dirt. And Javier has seen a lot of things—bad things, ugly things—but something about that has hit him sideways. Twisted something deep in his gut.

The bastard who grabbed you had gone for your hair first. Wrapped his fist in it, yanked you back so hard your spine arched, gun pressed against your temple. A good grip. A solid hold. Later, you told him—in that flat voice of yours, the one that makes everything sound like an afterthought—that it was just instinct for men like that. No different from grabbing a bitch by the collar.

What you didn’t say, but what he could see clear as day, was how much it had gotten to you.

Javier's thoughts come to an abrupt stop when an agent across the room calls out to you, “Nice haircut!”

You don’t even glance up. Just flip open a file and mutter, “Go fuck yourself.”

Javier exhales smoke through his nose, watching you without watching you. There’s something tight in his chest, something that hasn’t loosened in all the time since. He doesn’t touch it. Doesn’t acknowledge it.

Just like he hadn’t that night.

The night you cut it off.

No.

The night he cut it for you.

You had come to him, silent and hollow-eyed, knees pulled to your chest as you sat on the floor of his apartment. The scissors had been clenched in your hands, your grip too tight, like you were trying to find the nerve. And Javier had stood there, looking down at you, still seeing you the way you had looked after the raid—blood smeared across your face, dirt smudged into your skin, silent in a way that had scared him more than your scream ever could.

“Cut it off,” you had said, voice raw. “Please.”

So he had.

He had crouched in front of you, taken the scissors from your hands without a word. Hadn’t asked if you were sure. Hadn’t tried to talk you down. Just ran his fingers through your hair one last time, slow and deliberate, committing it to memory. And then he had begun cutting—the sharp snip of the blades the only sound between you.

And he had taken his time. Made it even. Made it right.

As much as he could, at least.

You hadn’t sobbed. Hadn’t shaken. Just sat there, unblinking, as the pieces of your old self had fallen away.

And Javier had wanted to say something. Should have said something. Something solid. Something that wouldn’t have sounded cheap coming out of his mouth.

But there had been nothing.

So he had kept cutting. Kept working until there had been nothing left to take.

After a moment, he had exhaled, set the scissors down, and run a hand over the uneven strands.

“Come on,” he had muttered.

You hadn’t asked where he was taking you. Just let him lead you to the bathroom. Let him nudge you to sit on the edge of the tub. He had turned on the faucet. Tested the water with his fingers. Tipped your head forward over the sink.

Javier had worked in silence, fingers gentle as he had rinsed the stray strands from your skin, as he had lathered government issued soap into the uneven remains of your hair. He had been careful, methodical, like it had mattered that he got this part right.

When it had been over, he had grabbed a towel and pressed it into your hands. Walked out without a word.

Now, you keep it short.

No more easy handholds.

Smart.

“—shit, I’d still fuck her.”

Vargas’s voice drags Javier out of the memory like a fist to the ribs, sharp and uninvited, yanking him back into the stale air of the office.

Javier barely holds back a sigh. 

Here we go.

"Not like she’d let you, pendejo," Reyes mutters, shaking out a cigarette and flicking his lighter open with a practiced motion. "She’d probably bite your dick off."

"Nah," Vargas continues, flipping through his notepad, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "These hardass bitches? Always the ones that like getting roughed up."

A low chuckle rolls through the room, loose and unbothered. Even Murphy, usually the one to step in, only shakes his head, offering nothing more than the faintest look of distaste before turning back to his work.

No one stops it. No one ever does. It’s just how men like them talk. Because the only woman in the office only gets to be one of two things—off-limits or fair game.

Javier flicks his cigarette into the sink, watching the ember sizzle against the metal. He could tell them to shut the fuck up. Could knock Vargas’s teeth through the back of his skull just for the hell of it. But he doesn’t. Not because he agrees, not because he doesn’t care but because he knows exactly how you would feel about it.

You would hate it.

The last thing you want is a man standing up for you like you need protecting.

So instead, he exhales slowly and mutters, "You should probably worry more about getting your dick wet at all, Vargas."

Laughter erupts around the room, and just like that, the subject changes.

Javier lets himself glance your way.

You don’t react. Don’t flinch, don’t frown, don’t even pause as you flip through the file, turning each page with careful, measured precision. But he catches it anyway—the slight tension in your fingers, the way they press just a little too hard against the paper’s edge.

And then, for the briefest second, you look up.

There’s nothing at first. No acknowledgment, no irritation, no gratitude. Just a glance, cool and unreadable. But beneath it, something lingers—a flicker of understanding, maybe. Or something close enough to it.

Then it’s gone. You turn another page, as if nothing happened.

Later, as you pass his desk, you drop a folder in front of him without a word.

Javier doesn’t move, doesn’t look up right away. But he notices—because he always does—that the hand resting on the edge of his desk is steady again.

—

After, when the house becomes unbearable—when the clatter of typewriters grates against his nerves and the air turns thick with stale cigarettes and too many bodies in too small a space—Javier steps out onto the back porch.

The heat is a living thing, wrapping around him, pressing against his skin, damp and relentless. He rolls his shoulders, but it doesn’t shake loose. 

Something sweet and rotten lingers in the air. The mango tree in the yard, branches heavy with overripe fruit, drips sickly-sweet decay.

He hates that smell. The way it clings, the way it turns the air thick.

He flicks his lighter open, flame sparking in the dark as he raises a cigarette to his lips.

That’s when he sees you.

You’resitting on the steps, knees drawn up, arms looped loosely around them. From behind, you could be anyone—just another agent taking a breather, trying to shake off the weight of the job.

But Javier knows better.

He debates turning around, giving you space. You’ve been on edge, more than usual. Snapping at people. Keeping your head down. Like you’re waiting for someone to reach for your hair again.

And that’s when you shift, just slightly, and the light from the house catches on her cheek.

A streak of wetness.

Fuck.

Javier exhales, slowly, then moves.

He doesn’t speak, just lowers himself onto the step beside you, leaving enough space so it doesn’t feel like a question. Close enough to be there, far enough to let you breathe.

And for a while, neither of you says anything.

The night settles around you—cicadas, a dog barking somewhere down the street, the distant crackle of a radio inside. The air still carries that sticky-sweet rot from the mango tree, heavy and cloying, making it feel like the night itself is pressing down on you.

You shift slightly, arms tightening around your knees. Then, almost absently—

"It’s worse at night."

Your voice is quiet, like you aren’t even sure you meant to say it aloud.

Javier rolls his cigarette between his fingers, watching the ember flare and fade.

"Yeah." His voice comes out rougher than he means it to. "I know."

You let out a short breath—not quite a laugh, not quite anything.

"Yeah," you murmur. "I guess you do."

Neither of you fills the space that follows. The silence stretches, not awkward, just thick with something unspoken. A car rumbles past somewhere beyond the trees, the faint thump of a radio disappearing as quickly as it came. The sounds of a city that doesn’t give a shit about either of you.

You exhale slowly, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes for a second before dropping them.

Your voice is quieter when you speak again, "Does it ever stop?"

Javier takes a drag, lets the smoke sit in his lungs before exhaling. He doesn’t answer right away. Not because he’s trying to be profound, but because he honestly doesn’t know what to say.

Eventually, he settles on the truth.

"It gets quieter."

You turn your head slightly, looking at him out of the corner of your eye, like you’re trying to gauge whether that’s supposed to be comforting. It isn’t. You both know it.

But after a moment, you nod.

That’s all.

Inside, Murphy’s voice cuts through the quiet. "Javi, new intercept. You’re gonna wanna hear this."

Javier stubs out his cigarette against the step, grinding the ember to nothing before standing.

He hesitates—just for a second—then holds out a hand.

You look at it, then at him. Not like you don’t know what to do, but like you’re measuring something. Like you’re seeing the line between you, thin and fraying.

Then, slowly, you place her palm in his.

It is cool. Rough in places. The faint ridge of a scar beneath your thumb. A callus from your trigger finger.

He memorizes the feeling before you pull away.

Without a word, you step past him, disappearing into the house.

Javier watches you go.

Mariposa.

You’ll never be his. Not in the way that matters.

But in the ways that count? Javier wants to believe you already are.

[starlightrosess]

˚₊⋆｡°✩₊ /whisper: I love you

summary: You and your boyfriend Choso log into Sins of Valor for another raid night—only to stumble into a chaotic, endearing guild that might just become your new online home.

word count: 2.3k

tags: fluff, modern setting, mmorpg, raid mechanics, online friendships, light humor, voice chat banter, slice of life

notes: Lots of MMORPG/raid terminology is going to be used in this fic!! If you don’t have any idea what something means, feel free to ask and I can explain! Sins of Valor is heavily based on Final Fantasy XIV, so expect terms like “glamour,” “pull,” “tank buster,” “ready check,” and more.

credits: @strangergraphics-archive for dividers

➽ CHAPTER ONE

"Ready Check?"

‎‎‎‎➤ THE BUS RIDE HOME SMELLS LIKE BURNT OIL AND CHEAP COLOGNE. You lean your head against the window, watching the city fly past you as you listen to your favorite music in your earbuds. You're running on four hours of sleep and a half finished sandwich you had three hours ago. Soon, you'll be home and at your computer. Ready to log into your newest obsession, Sins of Valor.

Sins of Valor is a popular MMORPG known for its hard raids and welcoming community. Not to mention the story for the game is actually amazing, worth playing through unlike other MMOs. Ever since the servers of your last favorite MMO shut down, your boyfriend Choso and you have been trying to find a new one to sink your teeth into. That's when you came across Sins of Valor. Ever since you started playing it a few months ago, you haven't been able to stop. Somehow catching up to the endgame content within those short months.

Now it's all you can think about, while you work, while you cook dinner, while you hang out with irl friends. Sins of Valor has infected your brain, and honestly it feels like a problem with how much you think about it. You wonder what kind of outfits you can make to match with Choso, or watch videos on the newest raid's coming out, or try hunting down cool weapons or figure out the best gear for each class.

The bus stopping at that familiar stop takes you away from your thoughts. You quickly grab your stuff and leave the bus, giving the driver a quiet thank you as you do. You then walk into your apartment building and walk up the stairs to yours.

Your apartment greets you in silence. The same dark room. The same desk light, left on. Same hoodie tossed on the back of your chair and the pile of dirty clothes left on the floor that you have yet to get to. This used to feel so lonely a few years back, but knowing someone is already waiting for you makes it less so.

You boot up your PC, clicking through the login screen and watching as certain apps and programs boot up on start. Discord being one of them, you already have a few messages from your favorite person. You smile as you click on his DM's.

ch0s0: you home yet ch0s0: found a raid group that needs another person ch0s0: saved the spot for you, if you still wanna run it

You smile before typing away a reply.

you: be there in 5, work sucked. ch0s0: vc?

And before you know it, you hear the familiar ring of a discord call play through your headphones as you throw them on. You answer and then quickly start clicking away to load up the game and log in. You hear the soft background music of the main city play as you see Choso's character sitting on the edge of the fountain. The spot you always log out at and in. His character is wearing a matching outfit to yours, a fox-patterned kimono with a kitsune mask sitting at the side of his face. His character has pure white eyes and dark fluffy hair, two spike pigtails poke out at the top of his head. His character has light gray skin and long ears, he is an undead elf.

Your character was a fox race known as beastkin. There were tons of variants for it, cat people, dog people, bunny people, the list goes on. You were also wearing the same outfit as him, but your kitsune mask covered the face of your character instead.

"Hey," you say into the mic

"Hey," he replies softly. "You sound tired."

You chuckle softly, lord knows you are. Retail hell is real, and you find yourself wondering how common sense isn't as common every single day. You simply give him a hum in reply before Choso speaks up again.

"Let me send you that party invite for the raid."

You see the words "ch0so has invited you to a party!" pop up in the middle of the screen, you quickly accept and see the party list full of 8 peoples usernames pop up on the side of your HUD. The party chat is already going crazy with everyone tying there before one name in particular says something that catches your attention.

satoruwu: oh! satoruwu: is this the person you were waiting on ch0s0? ch0s0: yeah. satoruwu: perfect!! lets load into the raid then~

Your screen then darkens while the raid location loads in. Everyone is at the edge of a round battlefield, floating platforms and fractured sky pieces decorate the outside of the raid spot. The music softly transitions from the calm city music to the upbeat boss music. The boss is already standing in the middle of the battlefield, ready for the tank to force agro onto it. The chat then goes wild as you all load in.

[RAID: ★Tank★ Nanam1e has joined the party.] [RAID: ★DPS★ GetLowGeto has joined the party.] [RAID: ★Tank★ Dokt0rShok0 has joined the party.] [RAID: ★Healer★ Tea4T1me has joined the party.] [RAID: ★DPS★ OniBabe69 has joined the party.] [RAID: ★DPS★ satoruwu has joined the party.] [RAID: ★Healer★ ch0s0 has joined the party.] [RAID: ★DPS★ YOU have joined the party.]

satoruwu: hello helloooo~ 😘 you: o/ ch0s0: o7 GetLowGeto: oh we found replacements for milk and crit?👀 Nanam1e: Don’t scare them off in the first five seconds. Dokt0rShok0: LMAO too late satoruwu: actually forgot about this. satoruwu: would be easier if y’all join our discord—sending link now

A server invite pops up in party chat.

✧･ﾟ: Last Save Point :･ﾟ✧ — Join?

Choso hesitates, but you join immediately. Your eyes scanning the discord until you spot six people sitting in a VC titled "RAID OR DIE". You chuckle at the name before speaking to Choso.

"I'm going to join their VC, gonna be easier for call-outs on raid mechanics." Choso hums in reply, and you both join the VC.

Inside, it's loud.

Satoruwu's voice is unmistakable, he is already teasing someone else in the group about dying last pull. Dokt0rShok0 is already half asleep, you can hear her snoring a bit. Tea4T1me is yelling about food buffs, and GetLowGeto is explaining Phase 2 of the boss fight to everyone.

Your screen blinks, a ready check window pops up.

“Pulling in 5,” Nanam1e says.

"WAI-WAI-WAIT!!" Satoruwu shouts, causing you to immediately turn your headphones volume down.

"What." Nanam1e replies, clearing annoyed.. does he even like playing with these guys?

"Welllll, we don't know the newbies names! They don't know ours either! Might as well introduce ourselves to avoid confusion." He explains. Nanam1e lets out a sigh.

"I'll go first! I'm Satoruwu, but my real name is Satoru Gojo," he says, and you swear you can hear him wink behind the mic.

"Full name, just like that? Do you have no internet safety??" Nanam1e says. Gojo just laughs in reply. GetLowGeto also chuckles before going next.

"I'm GetLowGeto in game, but you'll either hear me called Suguru or Geto. Full name is just that" He replied, Nanam1e let out another annoyed groan. He goes next.

"Nanam1e in game. Call me Nanami, that's all you need to know. See, is that so hard?" He said, talking to the other two at the last sentence. You hear a yawn before the next person speaks up, a feminine voice.

"Dokt0rShok0 in game, you can just simply call me Shoko. I only raid for the cool tank drops." You chuckle, honestly glad to hear another female voice here. That's when the only other female speaks up after Shoko.

"I'm Tea4Time, you can call me Utahime though. I'm probably one of the few normal people in this guild.." she says. You hear a low chuckle before the last person introduces himself.

"OniBabe69. Im one of the not normal people she's referring too. You can call me Toji babes" He replies, and again.. you swear you hear another wink behind the mic. Choso lets out an annoyed grunt before speaking up,

"Choso, same as my username," he says

"That's your real name?" Geto asks

"Yeah." He replied. There are a few moments of silence before you speak up, telling the group your name!

"Now can we start the raid? I'd like to be done before midnight. Got work in the morning." Nanami says, annoyed.

"Sureee" Gojo replies, then that same ready check pops up on your screen again.

After hours of full party wipes, the boss finally goes down, exploding into a blaze of light (that honestly blinds you in your dark room). Text pops up onto your screen:

Victory! Raid Complete. Loot Unlocked.

There are a few moments of silence before a loud yell breaks out in the VC from Toji.

"LETS FUCKING GOOOO-"

"Andddd he's screaming again.." Shoko mutters. You let out a laugh at this. You then pan your camera, now actually being able to get a good look at everyone's characters as they all crowd around the chest in the middle, rolling on the loot inside.

Geto's avatar is a tall elven female, her long blonde hair and robes flowing behind her as she walks. She has bright, glowing golden tattoos that decorate her skin. She looks nothing like the guy calmly thanking everyone in the VC and checking the loot. Not that you know what Geto looks like, but from his personality and voice you never would have expected it.. But at the same time it also fits.

"You rollin' on the staff, Shoko? You mentioned you wanted it for your healer," He asks

Shoko, the secondary tank, lounges near the edge. Her character is a human and has slick black hair that's cut into a bob, piercings, and heavy armor that still somehow looks lazy. You think it's because of the smoking emote she is doing right now.. You didn't even know that was an emote in the game??

"I'm passing," she says, yawning. "Too much work to level that class when my tank is already max level."

Utahime's character looks like a cottagecore dream. She is a cat Beastkin. She wears a big sun hat, flower patterned dress, and she's currently useing her parasol emote while she waits for everyone to roll on the loot.

"You two did good," she says. "Fill in parties can be a mess, but you actually listened." You gave a shy chuckle.

"Unlike some people" Nanami cuts in. His character is a human and has short blonde hair thats slicked to the side. He wears these interesting looking glasses and has hazel eyes. His character is sporting some large but nice looking heavy armor. Little do you know but he looks almost exactly like his character in real life. Something the other guild members who know what he looks like tease him about.

"Look its not my fault you walked on top of me with your tank buster!" Toji shots back. His character is a demon, large horns sprout from the sides of his head and a long tail from his lower back. His outfit.. if you can even call it that is very minimal. He has a top that barly covers anything and looks like a ripped shirt and his pants are shorts that cling too his body tightly. His character is currently flexing right next to the loot chest.

"You where out of position and the reason we wiped that time." Nanami shot back.

Gojo slides up next to you. His character is a celestial, with small wings for ears and large white wings on his back. He has bright blue eyes and fluffy white hair. Now his outfit, doesnt feel like it belongs in this game but somehow still works. He is in a beach shirt, flip flops, white swim trunks and a lei. He also has round sunglasses sitting on top of his head.

"You two always match?" He asks.

"Sorta" You say with a chuckle.

"Yeah, I usually match my girlfriend," Choso says.

"Girlfriend?" Toji says, now distracted from his argument with Nanami.

"Yeah!" you respond happily.

"For real? For how long?" Gojo asks curiously.

"Hmm, about two years now? We met in another MMO before it shut down." You explain.

"Shiii, they even have matching discord bios and icons," Shoko says. Your cheeks heat up.

"Damn, that's cool. Have you met in real life yet?" Gojo asked.

"Yeah! A couple of times over the years," You respond, why where they so curious?

"Man, that's wild," Geto says, "MMO love story. Kinda jealous not gonna lie."

"Right?" Gojo chimes in, "Kinda wanna find myself a gamer girlfriend or something."

"You'd scare them off in less than five seconds." Utahime teases.

"HEY—Yeah no you're probably right.." Gojo laughs before he suddenly stops as he realizes something. "Wait, how long have you two even been playing? I don’t think I’ve seen you in any of the usual guild circles.”

You glance at Choso's character who is still just standing next to you.

"Well, we're not in one yet. Kinda just been playing solo and with each other til we found a group that fit." You explain.

"Wait for real? You two cleared this raid and don't even have a guild?" Toji asks

“That’s insane,” Shoko mutters. “Y’all are cracked for no reason.”

“Honestly,” Nanami adds, sounding actually impressed for once.

“You guys should just join ours,” Gojo says, suddenly very serious. “I mean, if you're vibing with us.”

“Toji can be a lot,” Utahime says immediately. “But we’re mostly normal.”

“Hey!” Toji yells.

“We could use more consistent raiders anyway,” Geto chimes in. “And it’d be cute having the first couple of Last Save Point in here.”

Choso chuckles softly. “First couple, huh?”

“Don’t act like you’re not into it,” Gojo teases.

You smile. This game didn’t just give you a new obsession—it might’ve just given you a new digital home.

You glance at Choso’s character. “What do you think?”

“I’m down if you are,” he says.

“Then it’s settled!” Gojo shouts. “Welcome to Last Save Point, newbies!”

And that’s how you found the group you’d end up playing with every night.

masterlist || next chapter

[mosaickiwi]

Fall Unto Me (part four)

Part one, part two, part three

The end of Angel!Angel and Demon!Ren yayyyy I'm sooo excited to have the rest of my brain back!!! IT'S FINALLY OVER (mostly).

A very long and nonsensical string of writing thoughts and notes on it will be posted much later. Also if anyone wants to ask questions I can answer them in the infodump or on discord if you want a more immediate response... I hope you enjoy da finale 👉👈 sorry this is my baby i really love talking about it but it was impossible til now fjdslkjflks

cw// religious themes

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

That mundane, quiet night had taken a turn for the better. You could barely move a muscle after trying to settle your curious desires for your devilish companion, though they still remained. The books and red string were put back where they belonged before you found yourself cradled in strong arms and curled under silken sheets.

Ren had brought you to rest in bed, arms keeping you securely nestled at their side. His bare chest felt incredibly warm against your cheek. The sound of their heart beat steadily, and you moved your head to hear it better. Mesmerizing, and comforting. 

“I'm… tired? Fatigued?” you muttered aloud. It was so hard to stay awake, your eyes kept fluttering. You’d never been quite so drained before.

He gently held your chin to look at you, smiling all the while. “Why do you think? You’re an absolutely ravenous angel. Were it not for that fatigue, you’d surely still have me pinned on the floor with your head thrown back in—”

“Hey!” you interrupted him. The casual way they said it had you suddenly embarrassed. Being aware of your newfound… ‘ravenous’ side was something else entirely.

“It was a wonderful sight, my love, little angel,” he sang your praises with adoration, ending at a word. That word. The one you didn’t know.

An odd little pet name you were all the more curious about.

“What's that word you keep saying?” you asked and his eyes suddenly widened. “I love all the endearing things you call me, but that one—I can't place it.”

“...Oh, love,” he whispered, muffled as they leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of your head. “I’m so sorry. I won't use it anymore.”

“Huh? Is it something bad?” You weren't sure what he meant by that, but you knew well and good they'd never say something cruel to you, let alone call you by a cruel word. Nonsensical as the question was, no other reason came to mind.

“Not at all. It's my favorite word,” his voice was soft, almost heartbroken. “I didn't think you'd forget it so soon… I'll tell you when you're ready, I promise. For now, you only need to rest.”

A simple nod in response on your part. You accepted the answer so easily. There was nothing to worry about anymore. With how exhausted you were from the act, sleep was a natural decision. You could talk in the morning. Or any morning after, you no longer minded. Eventually you'd leave, so what was another few days or weeks?

You settled in and closed your eyes, lulled to sleep by their heartbeat in your ear.

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

Cold. You woke up cold. Jolted awake from your own nightmare of falling, drowning in the endless clouds that you once walked upon with ease, only to land in the depths of the freezing ocean below you. With a hushed gasp, you sat up in bed.

The devil was asleep right beside you. Pink hair stained with eerie grays from the moon’s glow through the open window, horns so dark they almost blended into the shadows, ghastly inked patterns that crawled from their shoulders down to their hands. 

One of his was laced tightly with yours. 

You trembled as you slowly pried his fingers away, crawled backwards on the bed until you felt nothing under you and almost fell like that cursed dream.

But the same hands you struggled to get away from caught you. You found instant comfort in his touch, despite the disgust that climbed up your back when you woke—where did it come from? Why were you even trying to get away? 

“I've got you, it's alright,” Ren murmured softly. He guided you to stand, wrapping a wrinkled shirt over your naked shoulders along with his arms. You held on as tight as you could. Your fingers were shaking. 

“I need to—I need to go, Ren. Now,” you gasped into his chest. Your entire body was unsteady, vision blurred from tears you weren't capable of shedding. Whatever you were saying didn't make sense in your head. You needed to go… somewhere. You could picture the place—it had sunkissed clouds as far as the eye could see—but did it have a name?

He read your mind, gently offered the word you couldn't think of, “Heaven?”

There. Home. You nodded. 

“You'll only get hurt.”

“I already know I'll have to repent before my god,” you muttered sheepishly and pulled away, clutching the shirt like a cloak. His knowledge was vast as ever, but what did a demon know of heaven’s affairs? 

“No, little angel. If you even make it that far,” they cursed the realms under their breath and followed as you left the room in a sudden hurry. “They'll take whatever is left of your halo and wings.”

You didn't waste any time throwing open the cabin’s door and walking out into the cool night air. Forced to pause at the sight in front of you, you stared; the breathtaking field of flowers was fully blooming. They were finally as high as Ren promised, the tallest with their golden petals proudly on display in the hallowed shape of a halo.

The beauty only helped his words to sink in. Whatever is left of your halo and wings? You turned around, fully expecting him to be right behind you.

You were face to face as you questioned him, a bite of anger held in. “What do you mean?”

Blue eyes that only seemed paler in the night, once full of hatred for heaven, pooled with long lost grief. “You've fallen from their grace,” he said quietly.

“That doesn't happen.” You denied it quickly. Such a thing had never happened in all the histories of heaven, you at least knew that without ever reading those records. If what he said was true, it’d be common knowledge. A warning that all angels would heed.

“It does, because I—”

A bell rang in the darkened night sky above. Ren froze with unknown fear for a split second and hurriedly reached towards you, shouting something. Another bell obscured their voice, then another and another until the number grew to so many your thoughts drowned in their thunder. Someone was calling you home.

Before you even realized it your wings sprouted forth and threw the unbuttoned shirt he'd given you to the wind, bringing a burning anguish so suddenly intense to bloom in the middle of your back that you fell to your knees. Ren immediately kneeled in front of you. The pain and desperation in his voice pulled at your very core, except you couldn't understand a thing. The bells were so loud. You cried out sharply. It may as well have been silence from what little else you could hear. 

A cracking noise managed to cut through the clamor of the bells above. Translucent shards of stained glass dropped from your head and piled themselves in the dirt at your knees. There was so little of it but you recognized the golden shade, illuminated by the fire licking at your shoulders.

The halo that you'd gained once the library's doors had beckoned you. The few pieces that remained of it, anyway.

Your heart stopped, then started anew. A feeling worse than the holy fire that was turning your beloved wings from feathered grace to ash. He was right; you'd fallen long before this night.

A thousand bells began to still, one by one. You could start to hear Ren again, though only a few words were clear.

“...At night… Forgive… Happen… …Never wanted this for you.”

The last feather fell away into nothing, and the burning in your back, along with the bells, died with it. All the heat you could feel was the demon only inches away, his desolate gaze fixed to you.

You blinked, tear stained cheeks now icy from the salted wind blowing across the ocean. Bits and pieces came back as memories.

The simple, towering clouds that decorated the heavens far as the eye could see. A sun that shined brightly, an everlasting sunrise that greeted you no matter the day. The library that once seemed like paradise you were destined to guard for the rest of time. All echoes of the being that was no longer you.

Something was missing. 

“My… that word,” you whispered. He'd told you it was his favorite word. One that you’d forgotten. “... It was mine?”

He smiled as best he could. It didn't reach his eyes. “You remember it.”

“A little.”

“Then... let me say it for you?” he asked and you nodded. They leaned close, the word slowly leaving their lips with reverence, sadness, unwavering love.

Nothing about it sparked as familiar on the surface. But the word once belonged to you, that empty part inside understood it. Fresh tears welled in the corners of your vision. “When did they take it from me?”

Ren gently wiped your cheek as the tears overflowed again. “I don't know.”

“How—it was mine,” you repeated with a sob. You felt the cold seeping through you and huddled into his embrace. Their body felt more warm and inviting than anything around you. There was nothing—no one else you could ever reach out to anymore.

“I’m sorry. We only have eternity together, my love,” he breathed, tucking your head below his chin with a strangled noise. “I'll say it each and every day so you'll never forget it. I don't want to lose your name, either.”

[bones4thecats]

Hii

Can i request a Sayaka Miki (from Madoka Magica) reader w anubis , nostradamus , and Buddha

Where the reader Goes insane (like Sayaka when she was fighting the witch) because she cant feel pain anymore (btw she was fighting in a round of ragnarok) and brutally kills her opponent

And how would the charas reach to their lover doing that and maybe the aftermath where the reader win and maybe how they would confront her

Tyyy

Type of Writing: Request Characters: Anubis, Michel Nostradamus, and Buddha Name: Reader Goes Insane During Their Round and {Character} Comforts Them Requester: Anonymous

A/N: I have decided to make the Reader a God here, just because it made a bunch more sense for some reason. Anyways, Happy New Year everyone! Have a happy 2024, lil bubbles🫧!

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🐶 Anubis knew you weren't the most sane when it came to battles, since he had seen you go against multiple members of the Egyptian Pantheon before this

🐶 But, at those times, you had far more self-control then this, but, he couldn't seem to blame you for it, the human you were fighting, Caligula, was known for his violent outbursts to his people, and you did not like him at all

🐶 Your husband watched as Caligula threw a large spear at you and charged with his Valkyrie in tow, Brunhilde must have hated allowing her sister to bond with that monster

🐶 He observed you throwing yourself onto the side, grabbing the blade and grabbing the male from behind, throwing him onto the ground and stabbing his heart, a sadistic look in your eyes

🐶 You then smirked and whispered something to the human as he faded away and the Gods cheered for your win as Humanity shrugged, they knew what kind of man he was, and they had no shame in his demise

🐶 You were obviously upset with how insane you had gone on the battlefield, and Anubis ran to your side, hugging you as your began to cry into his shoulder, repeating how it was all your fault and Humanity was destined to die

🐶 Anubis sighed and rubbed your back as he carried you to the medical room, you really did care for innocent people. But right now, he knew you needed to focus on yourself, no matter how much you didn't wish too

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🎙️ Michel wasn't exactly the most sane man in history, and he owns up to that whenever you scold yourself for going a hint overboard

🎙️ You were set in a match against the Greek Goddess of Strife and Discord, Eris, who was starting to aggravate everyone in the audience because of how egotistical and cruel she was acting

🎙️ She even claimed after Humanity was gone, she'd get ride of the Gods one-by-one so she would rule supreme

🎙️ Eris had grabbed you by the leg and thrown you against the wall of the arena, causing a butt-load of dust to erupt from the now-broken bricks, and even the Gods were yelling at you to get up, shocking the rest of your fellow Einherjar

🎙️ Your husband smirked as your Valkyrie yelled at you to do something, and when Brunhilde screamed at him on why he was smiling as his S/O was about to die, he just looked at her and answered with a cheeky

" Y/N doesn't give up that easily, just wait~ "

🎙️ You lunged and began to savagely attack the Goddess, causing the whole arena to go silent with fear as your opponent screamed out her final words with so much pain it made dying from blood-loss more fun

🎙️ Michel began to walk to greet you at Humanity's entrance, and when you came up with blood on you and a sad look burning in your eyes, he just patted your head and called the medics over, claiming he'd visit you once your wounds were healed, and he'd bring your favorite food to continue watching the rounds, after all, the next one seemed fun!

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🍭 Buddha knew you were a very level-headed person like himself, and seeing you get angry was a rarity, and besides, whoever saw it most likely never lives to tell how cold your glare was

🍭 Hearing you were going against a traitorous human, specifically the son of Eurydemus of Malis, Ephialtes of Trachis

🍭 You severely disliked the male because of what he did in life, a thing that he had quoted every time he had landed a small hit on your form

🍭 Your husband was watching alongside the rest of Humanity's fighters, and he glared when the man grabbed your arm and swung you off to the side, deeming you a weak woman and that was why Humanity deserved to die, while he deserved life

🍭 Buddha watched you slowly stand up, a dark aura emitting off your so strongly that it even made the Supreme Gods scream out

" Create a barrier around the audience now! She's going crazy! "

🍭 Sasaki Kojiro's eyes widened as you lunged at Ephialtes and began to punch and kick the man, dodging every hit he gave you, and every hit you gave him was either cracking or breaking a bone at a time

🍭 When you came back to reality, Buddha ran out and helped you back to the infirmary, despite the protests of Brunhilde and his fellow fighters

🍭 You were the most important thing to him, and he was not going to let you die on him, not like Jataka did all those centuries ago

🍭 While you healed, you cried into your husband's shoulder, saying how this whole ordeal was a mistake and asked him why the Gods couldn't see the pain this was bringing their creations

🍭 Comforting you, he stayed silent until you fell asleep with your face on his chest. All he did was look down at you and rub your back, whispering in your ear about how Humanity was now one step closer to survival, all thanks to you

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Season 2 Chapter 2: ~

A Family Growing Smaller:

I've teased about what this season is going to be on Discord, and now, a small seed is being planted.

Part 3:

With nothing more than the clothes on their back and hand luggage by their feet, Raffs and Brodie waited for the taxi to arrive. Everyone stood beside them. They knew they'd see each other again soon. You can't walk away from a crew when you've gone through what they have in the last week. Sadly, this only left Rennick, Trots, Muir, Addair, Gibbo, O'Connor, Innes, Roy, and Caz left together. They could all feel their newfound family getting smaller by the day. Soon, it would be O'Connor's turn.

'Safe journey home,' Roy said, giving the pair one of his signature bear hugs.

'Aye, you too,' Brodie replied. It was true what people said about him. He was a miserable bastard. Well, in the eyes of someone like Muir, he was. Never strayed from the rules and didn't know how to laugh. No one had seen him smile, but that could be because of the large moustache that would make Hercule Poirot blush. But today, you could hear the happiness in his voice. Finally going home after nearly six months. 'You lot come to Skye when the weather clears. You've never seen water like that before.'

'Ah, fuck that,' Caz joked. 'I'm never going in the water again.' Like before, everyone exchanged numbers. 'You two stay out of trouble.'

'Says you, Caz?'

'Gie's peace, ya prick.' The pair shared a final chuckle and hug. Caz learned a lot from Brodie, despite the pair never actually working together. He was a good man who taught him much, but the main one was to never go diving. How he and Raffs could do that meant they were braver than he'll ever be. Or, maybe Caz was smarter.

'So, what's your plan?'

'Stay here till New Years, then get my arse back to Glasgow.' But, in all honesty, Caz was conflicted. The scars weren't physical, but The Shape has left permanent damage. Whenever he now felt one of the infected slip away, it made him sad. Like a piece of him was missing. He didn't understand. They were his friends, but not for that long. He didn't even meet Gibbo until the end of September, and he still wasn't seeing a friendship with Addair in the near future.

At the same time, he wanted to go home.

He had to go home, and as much as he enjoyed the peaceful farm and endless fields, the countryside wasn't for him. Plus, he couldn't run forever from what he did. The sentencing will be longer. It's best to just get it over with. Caz wouldn't buy his bail. The money was for Suze to keep the flat. Finally, redecorate the bedroom and get the windows replaced.

'You two gonna stay away from the water?'

'Nah,' Brodie answered. 'But, like Roper said to me. I think we're going to go on a long holiday.'

'I hear Benidorm is nice.'

'Be original, Caz.'

Raffs felt a tap on the shoulder and turned to see O'Connor and Addair. It was odd to see the pair stand together without trying to rip each other's throats out. Last time they did, the pair only stopped the fight because O'Connor accidentally gave the poor lad a black eye when he pulled back to swing a punch, only for his elbow to collide with Raffs' eye socket.

'When are you and Mary going home?'

'Soon, I hope. Then hopefully come here.'

'You're going to leave Ireland?'

'It's not getting any better out there, Owen.' For some reason, O'Connor never called Raffs by his nickname. Or anyone really for that matter. Only Caz, Trots, and Gibbo weren't called by their first or surname. 'I'm only still working to provide a better roof over our heads.'

'I can lend money, if that will-'

'No,' O'Connor snapped, holding up a hand and ignoring how loud he momentarily was. 'No. That's your money and yours alone. We'll be fine. You go and see your ma, and have a happy new year.'

'Okay.' Raffs didn't know what came over him. A sense of guilt for not being able to do much for the past few days? Some type of desire to help? It's just something to make him feel useful. From his perspective, he's just followed everyone and waited to be told what to do. But before he could get lost in thought, it was now Addair's turn to give the young man his send-off.

'So, is this the end of Raffs' oil rig career?'

'Absolutely,' the diver answered without a moments thought. 'I know Skye always wants fishermen. It's a way to keep to the water. What about you?' Asking as if Addair could ever go into work again. A look of realisation hit Raffs as soon as the question left his mouth. His eyes widened, and his mouth curled. Thankfully, possibly because his wife and sons were here, Addair took it in stride and just laughed.

'I might take up cricket again.'

'I always saw you as a rugby bloke,' O'Connor teased.

'I love all sports.'

'Even horse racing?'

'No, I'd rather pluck my eyes out.' Yep. Still strange to see the pair actually having a laugh together, but it was nice.

Raffs felt Addair open his hand and put something inside his palm. He looked and held up a wooden carving of himself. It was remarkably detailed. Right down to the small orange pin he kept on the lining of his beanie. The young diver blinked a few times before looking up in shock.

'Did you make this?'

'Just something for you to take home.' Even with that answer, Raffs was shocked. The pair never had a conversation before until Muir gave them a task. But, he was happy. He didn't think he'd be going home with a gift.

'Thanks, Addair. Maybe you should go into woodcarving?'

Addair smiled. 'It's a thought. I've gotta keep the old noggin' active somehow.' The pair shared a handshake. He might be infected, but Addair's hand still felt the same. Nothing had changed in them. They were rough with dried skin peeling off the palms. Man has always done physical labour, so it wasn't a surprise the more Raffs pondered. Might be the only thing The Shape didn't alter.

'Hey? Good luck with Tommy.'

Addair paused. First Trots, then Gibbo and now Raffs. It always surprised him when someone mentioned his son's name. Like an alien was talking to him. He still didn't know how Trots knew to begin with. Yet, this time, his smile didn't fade.

'Thank you, Raffs. Now go on,' he pulled down on his beanie, covering his eyes. 'Fuck off back home.'

And just like that, two more members of the crew vanished. They watched them head down the long drive until they were out of sight. Muir sat in the snow to avoid the possibility of the taxi driver seeing his towering form. Everyone lingered for a moment before going back to their day.

Addair turned and caught Jennifer's eye. She stood on the porch. He smiled, but his smile towards his goddess slowly faded. He saw the look of distress in her eyes and the tears she held back. A sinking feeling weighed the man down.

[swissboyhisch]

New York Luck

Pairing: Mat Barzal x Reader

Summary: After a lovely holiday, your partner breaks up with you and so you turn to your only friend in the city.

Word Count: 1055

A/N: I'm not super happy with this. I feel like it's rushed but I want to put it out anyway.

<< PREVIOUS

THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD

Why is it that every time you come to New York, something bad happens. The last time you had gotten your shitty diagnosis. This time your current boyfriend and yourself had decided to go on a holiday to Hawaii for a week and of course, an hour after landing back in New York he decided to break your heart.

Something about not being ready for a relationship. Apparently. And here you were ready to tell him I love you on your holiday but held back because he was a little distant at night. That’s why you’re now standing in a Walmart; wearing a pair of sunglasses trying to find food.

Sadly you can’t even go home. In three days you have to have another surgery. A different one to the last time you were in New York. Now you’re stuck in the city, alone and crying your eyes out. Dealing with health issues and a break up. What a great combo. And to make things worse, you can’t even drink away your emotions!

Aisle by aisle, you grab chocolate, some cupcakes, cheese and crackers, a bit of everything. Oh and a bottle of coke, can’t forget it. That’s when you heard a familiar voice calling your name. You turned to where the voice came from. 

“Mat?”

One of the few people you knew in the city. Mat wasn’t a stranger to you. Quite the opposite actually. The pair of you grew up together then reconnected later on once he had been drafted. After a couple hook ups since the reunion, you two were close when you did meet up.

“Are you okay?” Mat questions, spying your reddened cheeks just under your glasses. 

“I uh… Yeah,” You tried to brush it off. Discreetly wiping the stray tears that dripped down your cheeks. “Just some personal stuff.”

The hockey player wasn’t buying it. He had known you long enough to see through your lies. Even if they were really bad like the one you just told. “Okay, what’s up? I know that’s a lie. You were literally just in Hawaii.”

“Stalking my insta?” You joke weakly.

“Gotta see what my favourite girl is up to.”

That made your heart hurt more. Here Mat was calling you that where as your ex could barely call you his girlfriend in front of his friends. God, you thought your relationship was great. Fuck. How could you be so blind. 

“Yeah we got back this morning and then he broke up with me an hour after we landed.”

Mat immediately brought you in for a hug. “Shit. He’s an asshole for that.”

“Doesn’t help I have surgery friday,” You add, sniffling.

“Another one?” Mat sighs. “He’s a coward for breaking up with you before that. It’s a dick move.”

You shrug off the comment. “I’d rather him do it now then drag it out. Now I can just focus on myself. Gonna get snacks and have a night in my hotel. Maybe get ice cream from the place next door.”

“Can I join?” Mat asked. 

“Are you sure?”

Matt agreed and the two of you finished grabbing snacks for the night and finished Mat’s shopping. He brought groceries for his apartment so the two created a plan. First, drop off Mat’s groceries to his apartment. Then head to your hotel to have a chill night. 

You two arrived back at your hotel, which was quite a fancy one since you and your partner had planned to stay there together. First, before retreating to your bedroom, you stopped by the ice cream place and got way too much. Enough that Mat’s nutritionist would cry at the thought of the hockey player consuming all that sugar. 

“This is nice.” The two of you walked into the nice hotel room. A modern style hotel room on the 9th floor. A king sized bed in the middle with the bathroom off to the left as you walked in. There was even a window with a blind in the shower. “Have you stayed here before?”

“Yeah, my ex worked nearby so I’d stay when I’d come to visit him,” You respond.

Mat grabbed the bag of snacks and put that on the counter, wrapped you in a hug and dragged you onto the bed. The smell of his cologne filled your senses. Despite your old hook up ways with Mat, the familiar scent still gave you butterflies.

“I wanna have a shower and get into my pyjamas,” You sighed, pulling away from Mat. You grabbed some clothes and went to go to the bathroom when a sulking sound came from the boy laying on your bed. When you looked at him, he was pulling the puppy's eyes. “What? Do you wanna join?”

“Please?” You giggled and agreed, leaving him to join you when he wished. “Thank youuuu!”

The bathroom was really modern. A large mirror in front of the sink and a huge shower with a rainfall head. Your favourite type of shower. After turning on the water to your preferred temperature, you stripped and got into the shower. The water felt calming as you stood under the stream. 

“Heya,” Mat mutters as he slips into the shower. 

You leaned into the hockey player as he wrapped his arms around you. This wasn’t the first time you had showered with him. But let’s just say usually, a simple shower wasn’t just that. 

“Are you okay?” Mat asks as you’re unusually quiet around him. That question just makes you break. A flood of emotions coming through. Mat was quick to pull you closer, tight against his naked body as you started to sob. “He’s an idiot.”

“What’s wrong with me?” You cried.

“Nothing. I promise you it’s him. He’s the worst person for doing this to you. He’s the problem.”

Once you had calmed down and the two of you had finished washing, you changed into your pyjamas and cuddled up on bed with a ton of snacks surrounding the pair of you. Mat had signed into his Disney. You allowed him to pick what the two of you would watch for the night. When you saw the intro it solidified the hidden feeling for him. It was your favourite show.

“Thanks for this,” You mutter to Mat.

The brunette kissed the top of your head. “Always.”

TAG LIST

@findapenny @mp0625 @hischierhaze @11zegras @lvrzegras @francesfarhadi @cixrosie @daisysthings

[starsfic]

The Bull's Key

Summary: The most handsome man in town offers a challenge. Xiaotian ends up being more distracted by the bull. (A rewrite of my 2021 fic, The Cat's Key.) Notes: So @dragonblood1313 on Discord offered a version of my fic where Red takes the form of a bull instead- makes sense- and gave me permission to use the idea to rewrite my fic.

AO3/Ko-Fi

He was the most handsome man in town.

His name was Red, matching the mane of fiery curls that he tied back to reveal golden eyes. He was the son of a wealthy couple to boot, and he was smart. Qi Xiaotian had seen him many times in town, walking like a soldier, revealing his fine figure.

So had many others in town. Whenever Red showed his face in town, a crowd of men and women alike formed, following him. They all pleaded for him to be their spouse, to be theirs, to love them.

Xiaotian had been tempted once to ask the same when Red came in to pick up some noodles from Pigsy’s inn. He had barely been able to get through the greeting, entranced by the calluses on Red's hands, the way some of his hair started to drape over his shoulder, how delicate he looked despite the strength he held. But he had swallowed the pleading words of love back, allowing Pigsy to hand over the noodles. He was a simple delivery boy. What good could he offer the town’s prince?

(He didn’t want to answer the pitying looks his Dadsy and father figure gave him.)

One day, however, Red called a meeting.

Everyone came. Even those not interested in Red came, gathering around the wall that bordered his home, a small cottage near his family’s manor. Long Xiaojiao, Xiaotian's best friend, dragged him to the front. She had once been one of the many women who admired Red, but apparently had lost interest after a lengthy conversation with him. Still, her eyes were excited. "I wonder what he's going to be talking about?" she whispered.

"I don't know-"

"HELLO!" 

Those callused hands hefted Red up onto the wall, and the crowd pressed closer, entranced by how the setting sun made Red's hair gleam. Xiaotian's breath caught in his throat, and his fingers twitched, longing to rush home and sketch the scene. Thankfully, he didn't make them wait. 

“I’ve decided to marry,” Red announced, clapping his hands together with a smile. The crowd burst into gasps and whispers, several exchanging angry looks. Xiaojiao grabbed Xiaotian's shoulder hard enough to make him wince. “I have not chosen who yet.” The crowd fell silent, and the angry looks disappeared. For some reason, hope bloomed in Xiaotian’s chest. Red pulled out a golden key from his pocket, marked with the symbol of Red’s family. “So we’re going to play a game.”

The rules were simple: Red would tie the key to his home around the neck of his bull. When a man was brave enough to ask how they knew which cow belonged to Red, he simply said, "You'll know it when you see it." Red would marry whoever entered his home through the key, which hung on his bull. With that, he hopped off the wall and walked away, leaving people to whisper and shout.

The game started the next day.

Xiaotian was outside, hanging up some laundry that some guests had requested. In between the cloth, he saw glimpses of red. His heart skipped a beat and he pushed aside some of the clothes, hoping to see those fiery red curls…

That was a cow.

Xiaotian blinked. Nope, that was a bull. A handsome bull with golden horns, yes, but also bright red. He walked through the streets without a care, seemingly unaware of the golden key hanging around its neck. That was probably what Red meant when people would recognize the bull as his.

But the key was also glinting around its neck, right next to a little bell, gleaming like a teasing little star. Xiaotian felt himself freeze at the realization. It would be so easy to just walk up and take the key…

 Someone shouted “There it is!”

It was like someone had screamed fire . A crowd of people immediately formed. The bull glanced back, snorted, and Xiaotian blinked. In that second, the bull took off like a shot, kicking up dust behind him. Xiaotian flattened himself against the wall, watching as the bull ran past and saving himself from being flattened by the crowd.

At first, people chased. The bull seemed to be a little bit of a tease, walking calmly around until people noticed him. And from there, the bull would run. It had to be the fastest bull Xiaotian had ever seen, kicking up clouds of dust that seemed to block out the sun for a moment as the pursuers were left behind.

Then traps and bribes came into play. The bribes came in the form of hay, fine cow feed, and other foods, all sbulltered around town. People thought that the richest farmer in town would win when he grew sweet cud, enough to make a giant mountain of it. The traps started out simple, with thread and bells next to the bribes. Slowly, they grew more elaborate as the bull seemed to ignore the bribes, to the point that Xiaotian found himself sore and bruised when he was running an errand, took one step, and found himself in essentially a giant mousetrap.

The bull fell for none of it.

“It’s all stupid,” Pigsy snorted that evening. He was cleaning up after dinner, scrubbing at the dish with a fierce look, as Xiaojiao patched up Xiaotian. “The kid clearly sent them on a wild goose chase so he could be left alone.”

“But what if someone gets the bull?” Tang challenged, glancing at Xiaotian.

“Are you kidding? That bull has to be the smartest thing alive. The only way someone’s getting that key is if it walks up and hands it over.”

“Yeah, Tang, Red’s not interested in marriage,” Xiaojiao said, giving Xiaotian an apologetic look when he winced as she tightened the bandage. “At least, to those bozos. They’re going about this all wrong.”

…huh.

The next day, Xiaotian took the day off.

It had been relatively quiet of any bull sightings that day. Nobody noticed him take the path down to Red’s cottage. An idea had been poking into his mind since Xiaojiao’s comment. Finally, he reached the wall that surrounded the cottage, the one Red had made his announcement on, and peeked his head over.

The cottage was a simple one for Red’s wealth. The nearby creek turned a waterwheel, and an open space revealed a blacksmith area. There was no sign of Red. Or the bull.

Not until a startled “Moo!” and a bell rang.

Xiaotian’s first thought was oh, one of those traps worked . Except, none of the traps had been set this close to Red’s property, out of some silent agreement. Curiosity nagged at him, and he followed, following the wall until he got to an open section. There, some lovely weeping willows had been planted. Normally, the lovely green leaves would gently flow with the wind, except today, there was a bull.

A bull who was clearly struggling. 

As Xiaotian stepped closer, he realized that the bull’s golden horns had somehow gotten wrapped up in the willow branches, trapping him and locking him tight. His bell jingled as he frantically tried to free himself. As Xiaotian stepped closer, the bull’s eyes widened, and his struggles grew more desperate, to the point that there were audible small cricks and cracks . If this kept up, the bull would hurt himself.

“Hold on, hold on!” Xiaotian held up his hands, keeping them up to show that he wasn’t going for the key. The key was honestly the furthest thing from his thoughts at the moment. “Let me help you.” He reached to his side and pulled out the small knife Pigsy had given him for self-defense. It was for vegetables, but people tended to leave you alone if they thought you could defend yourself. 

The bull’s struggles died down, but his eyes were still wide and frightened. Xiaotian kept his breathing calm and kept his eyes on the bull’s horns. He would have to be careful. One slip up, and those things could gore him. He reached up and gently gripped one horn. The bull made an unhappy noise, and he sighed. “I know, buddy.”

He reached up with the knife and started to cut at the willow. They weren’t clean and professional, like how Pigsy could cut, but Xiaotian did his best. Once one horn was free, he started cutting free the other. Willow leaves and branches settled around his feet and on the bull’s back, decorating the red fur with soft green.

Once the willow was away, Xiaotian reached out and gently gripped the back of the bull’s collar. The bull reared back, but Xiaotian held tight, leading him through the willow and to the other side. He released the collar to lift up the willow branches.

The bull blinked and then snorted, marching past him. The sun gleamed on his red fur, much like how it did on Red’s hair, as he shook off the willow leaves. Xiaotian sat down as the bull trotted around, enjoying his freedom, and pulled out his sketchbook from his bag. “I wonder where he got you,” he wondered as he grabbed his lunch, opening it to reveal his favorite noodles, packed with beef and veggies. He ignored the twinge of guilt at the meat to instead admire the bull. “You’re really beautiful.”

And troublemaking.

The bull eyed him from a few feet away. “I bet you’re having a lot of fun,” Xiaotian said, pulling out his chopsticks. “I certainly would. Running around and making a bunch of people look dumb? That sounds like a blast.” Well, not the making people look dumb part, he wasn’t that mean. The bull stepped closer and now Xiaotian could see that it was staring at his bowl. “Are you hungry?” The bull made a little moo and he chuckled. “Okay, hang on…” Which veggies did cows like?

And then the bull was sticking its face in his bowl.

“Woah, hey, wait-!” Xiaotian yelped as the bull’s mouth moved, sending broth spilling over him and narrowly avoiding him with the horns. Before he could grab him, the bull sprinted away with a mouthful of noodles.

“Wait, I-” Xiaotian got his feet, but the bull was already gone. He sighed, sitting back down. “Sorry, buddy.” Hopefully, the noodles wouldn’t make it sick.

The next afternoon, Red came into the inn.

Xiaotian was too focused to hear the silence pass over the dining hall. His eyes were locked on his sketchbook as he drew the bull. His paints and watercolors weren’t allowed in the business during business hours, but he could easily imagine how the light caught the red of the bull, setting it ablaze…

“-Noodle Boy!” He jolted at the name and stood up. Red stood on the other side of the counter. Was it his imagination, or did he look flustered? “May I please buy some noodles?” he said. “Veggie, please.”

“Uh…sure. Yeah, yeah, right on.” Xiaotian felt heat spread through his face as he scrambled to write down the order. Pigsy was glaring at him from the kitchen, he could feel it. But there was also something else, something that he dared to say once the order was in. “Um, I don’t mean to be weird, but you have a willow tree on your property, right?”

Red raised a brow. “Yes?”

“Well, uh, I kinda found your bull stuck in it.”

Red’s brows furrowed together. “Are you presenting the key?”

“No,” Xiaotian felt his brows furrow together. Didn’t he hear the part about his pet being stuck? “I was more focused on your bull being stuck and freeing him.” He took in a deep breath. “That’s really irresponsible.”

“...Excuse me.”

“I mean, what if I hadn’t found him?” The heat in his face drained down to his stomach, in a familiar feeling of anger. He loved animals, and he had grown fond of the beautiful scarlet bull. “Your poor bull could’ve hurt himself! I can’t believe you’re letting him do stuff like that!”

Silence drew throughout the inn. Red gaped at him, as if nobody had ever dared to speak like that to him. Not even the clink of a bowl dared to break the silence. Xiaotian did, letting out a huff before grabbing Red’s food. “Payment, sir,” he ground out.

Red, still gaping, reached into his pocket and pulled out money. As he did, Xiaotian realized that it was way more than that bowl was meant for. He opened his mouth to call out, but Red was already marching out of the door.

Xiaojiao broke the silence by drawing up, eyes wide. “That was really ballsy,” she whispered.

“I…It needed to be said,” He still had a bit of a crush on the guy, but that had dimmed a bit. “It needed to be said. Someone needs to defend that poor bull.”

The next day, when he could, he came to Red’s house and found that the willow tree had been trimmed down.

Weeks passed. Xiaotian found himself coming day after day to Red’s cottage when he could, always greeted by the poor bull in question, who watched him from the corner of his eye. Every day, he grew closer and closer. The bull didn’t like veggies, but he did like noodles and balls, he found, watching as the bull threw the ball with his horns. The rest of the town was starting to give up, sharing Pigsy’s thought that this was Red’s way of telling people to leave him alone.

Xiaotian... found he really didn’t care, especially after the willow tree scene.

The bull was rapidly taking up his care. He began to let him pet him, weaving small braids in his fur and even setting flower crowns on his head. He listened with ear flicks and tail flicks as Xiaotian talked about everything and nothing.

One evening, when the inn was closing for the evening and the bar was empty, there was a moo. Xiaotian looked up. “Hey little buddy!” he cooed when he saw the bull at the doorway. “Here, wait by the trough.”

“Kid, we- Woah!” Pigsy, from the kitchen doorway, stared. Tang poked his head around and stared. “Is that-”

Xiaotian shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “Yeah. Do we have any leftover noodles?”

“Kid. That’s Red’s bull.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why is the key still around its neck?”

“Wha- oh!” Right, the key. Once again, it glinted beckoningly. Xiaotian looked up from it, making eye contact with the bull. It stared steadily at him. “I... I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right, I guess.”

Pigsy stared, even as Xiaojiao’s head popped up and Tang reached over her and passed a pot of noodles to him. “What.”

The bartender shrugged as he took the pot from Pigsy’s limp hands. “It’s not the right time,” he said, a bit more confidently. His back turned to it, he didn’t notice the annoyed look that crossed the bull’s face. The others followed him to the door, watching as he poured the noodles into the trough. The bull bowed his head and ate, allowing Xiaotian to pet him.

However, his mind, for once, wasn’t on the bull.

The next day was a sunny day. Xiaotian found himself stretched out in the grass. The bull laid across from him, stretched out happily in the sun with his gleaming horns. “You sure are one lucky bull,” he admitted. Now that he had been reminded of the key, he remembered why he had been interested in the bull.

The bull let out a moo, turning those dark eyes to him. “You probably snuggle with him every night, I certainly would snuggle you, and... he’s so smart. And handsome. And clever.” Xiaotian couldn’t help but snicker reminded of a public incident where Red had verbally torn to shreds a suitor who had tried to grab him. “I mean, I’m still a little upset with him for the whole willow tree thing, but he fixed that.”

The bull stood.

“I wonder... if he would be disappointed if it was me. I mean, I yelled at him in public. I’m just some innkeeper’s boy. I’m not rich or smart like him” Xiaotian rolled over on his stomach with a sigh. “Please don’t tell anyone. It’s embarrassing-”

The bull knelt in front of him.

He froze.

The key gleamed at him.

“Are... you giving it to me?”

The bull didn’t respond. Xiaotian reached out. One hand rested between the bull’s horns, where he liked to be scratched, and scratched on instinct. The other reached for the key.

The string came undone, leaving the golden key in his hands. Xiaotian stared at it before he felt the bull rise, pulling him up with him. There was a gentle nudge from the bull before it moved forward, guiding him to the house. Soon enough, they were at the door.

He reached out and slid the key into the lock.

The door opened and Xiaotian stepped inside. The front room was decorated nicely, done in reds and purples and touches of gold. Little bulls decorations were here and there. He turned, wondering if the bull had inspired the decor, only for red smoke to engulf his vision.

“I hope you view me responsible enough to marry you.”

The smoke cleared and Xiaotian stared. Red stood there, with crossed arms, brows furrowed together.

“...what?”

“The willow tree.” Red coughed, looking away. “You were right. I should have made sure it was trimmed before trying to walk through it. If a real bull was in that, it could’ve gotten hurt.” He glanced at him. “I apologize for making you fret.”

Xiaotian blinked. “A…Apology accepted.”

“So, am I responsible enough to marry you?”

“...Yes.”

Red reached out. Xiaotian reached out, resting his hand on the top of Red’s head. His fiance- okay wow- paused before a pretty smile formed across his face and he leaned forward.

Their first kiss was sweet. Not as sweet as the day Red actually got a bull for a pet much to Xiaotian’s joy, but sweet enough.