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tteokdoroki · 9 months

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VOICEMAILS AND DIAL TONES - yuuta okkotsu.

✩ — about. “back then, you didn’t have words to describe the way that he made you feel. maybe, you were a little too young to understand.” there are rules to a friendship that’s lasted as long as yours and yuuta’s has. the first being that you tell each other everything. the second, try not to fall in love. all you know, is that you’ve failed at both, and now your best friend is half way across the world without any idea as to how much you truly love him. is that something you can say over text or voicemail? ( 8.7K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, with a happy ending - video banner! characters are in their 20s. coffee-shop!au, childhood friends to lovers, forbidden romance, long-distance, misunderstandings, miscommunication, situationships, arguments, hospitalisation mentions, death mentions (non-major characters), cucking, somnophilia, praise, fingering (f!receiving), oral sex (f!receiving), phone sex-ish, clothed sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampies, fem!reader.

✩ — things to note. hi everyone!! jumping on the yuuta hype and dropping this fic i wrote as a commission last year!! it's so interesting to see how much my writing has changed, but i remember having fun when writng this. either who!! i hope you all enjoy <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

absence makes the heart grow fonder — at least that’s what they tell you so that the feeling of missing someone hurts a tiny little bit less.

you’ve always wondered if that were true. if willingly putting space between yourself and the person you loved truly helped soothe the soreness as if it were medication for the body’s aches and pains. perhaps the theory could best be applied to your friendship with yuuta okkotsu.

he’s been your best friend for as long as you can remember — from the moment he moved in next door, his bambi eyes were big and brown, safe and inviting…who were you to keep hiding behind your mothers leg and deny him an invitation to play on the swing set his parents had put up for him in the garden just over the fence? yuuta was the sweetest boy to date, he was always polite with your parents and asked their permission before taking you into the depths of his cardboard fort in the front yard.

he would walk home with you from pre-k, your chubby little fingers tightly intertwined and the matching charms on your backpacks swinging about the place jingling with every step you took towards home. when you got to middle school and kids were meaner, yuuta stood by your side while you were teased for being quieter than most. he defended you, his shy, patient best friend.

okkotsu still walked you home, his pinky finger hooked over yours — greeted your mother with that same shy, yet charming tight lipped smile and offered to help her with cooking dinner with that same airy voice of his. your mother would reward you both with a kiss to the forehead and a plate of warm walnut and chocolate chip cookies and your pinkies — still linked underneath the table.

you were always linked. it’s always been yuuta and you. back then, you didn’t have words to describe the way that he made you feel. maybe, you were a little too young to understand the butterflies in your tummy and the blistering temperature to the back of your neck and your ears — maybe too naive to understand a metaphorical doctor’s diagnosis of a case of early on-set puppy-love. knowing back then would’ve explained why you wrote yuuta’s name on a heart alongside your own or why you squirmed every time you touched.

there was only one explanation. you liked yuuta, loved him.

you wished that you’d known what that feeling was…because it's soon ripped from your grip and your whole world changes when rika orimoto enters your lives. she was pretty, had a beauty mark smeared daintily across her cheek and gentle eyes that made you feel safe. she was pretty and yuuta thought that too — inside and out. that’s why they became fast highschool sweethearts and why you were left in the dust.

rika easily made a mess of him, tearing yuuta into a million tiny pieces that only she could put back together. she asks him out on white-day, okkotsu a bumbling mess by the lockers in between gym class and economics as he clutches her neatly written love letter — hearts over the I’s and T’s crossed ever so cutely. she had done to yuuta what he’d been doing to you all of your lives and you’d hardly seen her talk to him around school until that day.

much to your dismay, they date throughout the rest of highschool and it nearly kills you, having someone that you were once so close to fade-away into near nothingness with growing distance. life where yuuta has a girlfriend ( that isn’t you ) drains the happiness that you got from being around your childhood best friend. it’s selfish, you know, to have wanted to keep him all to yourself. to have him want you instead of her.

they make plans for after school, babies with names that start with the same letters as theirs and a wedding that’ll be small and flowery and whatever rika wants because yuuta okkotsu would give the girl he loves the entire world. you so badly want to be her. that person who is the centre of his universe. it should be you, it should have always been you — making plans with yuuta and imagining the perfect ring, the one that he would give you in the front yard of his childhood home. it should be your life with him, one that you’d dreamt up with him…and the sick thing is, you can’t have him — because you’re best friends and you’d be risking it all in the name of childish love.

rika, dies just days shy of your highschool graduation and it changes your best friend. a tragic car accident violently takes her life and okkotsu along with it. he’s a shell of the person he used to be, void of his dazzling smile and the comforting warmth that was unavoidable if you spent even just a minute with him. yuuta used to be like sun rays on a sunday morning but after the incident, he felt like blizzards on a dark november's eve. he lost his love, and you were starting to lose him even more than before.

his first love is memorialised at the graduation ceremony and while everyone sends her their thoughts and prayers — you feel sick to your stomach, knowing that for a brief second you’d felt relieved that your competition was gone. loving him was forbidden, he’d just lost his person and so despite your guilt you had to stick it out. be there for him. be there for your friend above all else and hold him up so that he didn’t sink in the deep water of his own grief. you’d save him, at all costs, you’d stop him before he drowned.

things start to look up when the pair of you head to college — you both get into the same school and find the cutest little off-campus apartment to share. it feels like a home away from home to you both, since your nights before semester begins are spent attempting to master your mother’s famous cookies while practising how to introduce yourselves since you’re both nervous as hell for this new beginning. everything feels like it was when you were both children and didn’t have a single thing to worry about — except now there’s crippling student debt and a four year workload ahead of you…but you’re both excited, together again and it seems like the distance between you has shrunk just a little.

then your love life takes a turn for the worst ( yet again ) and yuuta finds himself running around town with a new crew of friends that he met in a club run by one of your elective professors, satoru gojo. they stay out later than you’re used to and your best friend comes home smelling different too, of strong perfumes and cigarette butts even though you know he doesn’t smoke. as it turns out, there’s another girl.

maki zenin.

you don’t like her, and to be fair, she doesn’t like you either. so you keep your distance once more, keep your head down when maki does her faux walk of shame out of your best friend’s room — her thighs and her neck covered in bite marks and scratches, his shirt slipped over her body to cover the rest of her decency. he made her breakfast with your food and tea in your designated mug. it hurts to hear her mewl the sweet syllables of his name late at night while you’re stuck with the soundtrack to your own sobs.

it should be like this, distant — far apart because you care about okkotsu and you love him, so it’d be better to avoid it all rather than get him hurt.

your phone ringing in the distance gently lulls you from your reminiscent thoughts and you scramble to pick it up before you end up with a missed call.

yuuta’s contact flashes across your screen, framed by light and making him look like an angel. it rings and rings, and you know that you should let it go to voicemail. let the space between you grow so you can protect what’s left of his soul.

but you were never strong when it came to him.

and you pick up before he can listen to another second of dial tones.

voicemail #1 - “hey yuuta, i hope you’re good, you’ll never guess who stopped by the cafe today— professor satoru! i haven’t seen him since your graduation! anyways, are you still coming over for dinner tonight? i miss you!”

this isn’t like him.

even after all these years, from pre-k to college — yuuta okkotsu has never missed one of your calls. after graduating you'd made a promise to one another, to keep contact no matter where life took you, a promise of his own volition. you’d have dinner with each other at least once a week just like when you were kids and catch up on your not-so crazy adventures into adulthood.

you kept up your end of the bargain as your way of keeping okkotsu afloat — to ground him. he’d seen and been through enough hurt to last him a lifetime and if he had to use you as a crutch for comfort, despite your raging feelings for him, then so be it. so you never missed a call, always checked in and made him something nostalgic and tied to the memories of afternoons where your mother would fill you up with her wondrous baked goods or heartwarming soups.

but still, this isn’t like yuuta to not pick up when you call.

to feel…more distant than usual and of his own accord.

panic sets in while you listen to the third dial tone, trying to contact him again. taking a deep breath, you pace around the fridge-freezer in the back of your bakery — one that you’d set up shortly after graduating from your business degree. there had to be some explanation for your best friend’s absence. perhaps traffic? maybe he was on the subway catching a ride over? or maybe he just needed space. he’d been going through a lot recently. yuuta didn’t get a job straight out of college and he broke things off with maki shortly after — they wanted different things and had different aspirations.

even still, with the free time left on his hands, there was too much room for him to think about his losses and his loves…it made you worry for him, it made you panic and chew on your nails just like this. “c’mon yu,” you whisper to yourself, the shaky syllables of your words bouncing off the metal house for your ingredients, muffled by paper bags of powdered sugar and organic flours. “where are you?”

you can barely hear the automated message telling you to leave a voicemail for your friend over the bustling of your afternoon service. if yuuta hadn’t been off the grid, he’d be here helping you with the customers that know him all too well, the old ladies that pinch his cheeks and the younger ones that twirl their hair in an attempt to flirt over miniature cherry bakewell tarts. except he’s nowhere to be found, and you’re nauseous, worried sick about where he could be and what he could be up to.

you try his cell one more time in an attempt to grab at his attention. there's something weird about today...as if he’s avoiding you, hiding. yuuta always picks up and you always pick up for him, it’s an unspoken rule.

when you’re met with the dial tones again, you hang up — slumped and distraught. there’s hungry customers to feed and you’re overly friendly college professor waiting on a fresh box of sweets you’d used as an excuse to escape to the back of your shop. yuuta can wait for another call from you.

but you’re not sure if your heart can wait for one back from him.

voicemail #2 - “it’s yuuta, we need to talk.”

oddly enough, silence is comforting to you. it reminds you of your best friend, the nights you’d spend coupled up in your dorm with your fingers running through his silken midnight hair, his head in your lap and the both of you shrouded in darkness. more often than not, you could tell how one another’s days went just by body language and when shoulders were slumped and eyes were droopy — yourself and yuuta would curl up together and just…take in the quiet.

be close to one another.

so, you bask in the tranquillity of your quaint little cafe as you clear up after a day's work. you sweep floors, wipe tables clean and arrange the tables and chairs with perfect precision. the only sound that accompanies you is the clink of silverware and porcelain plates as you wash the dishes. it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop and the slightest noise is enough to make you jump — just like your phone that vibrates deep within your back pocket, startling you as you scramble to dry your hands so you can see if it’s him who’s been trying to get in touch with you.

it’s embarrassing how quick you are to smile when you see a few missed calls and a voice message from yuuta. though you’ve never quite heard the tune of seriousness that plays in his voice before, your heart won’t stop racing at the mere sound of him speaking. your mind wonders…what could be so urgent that he’d need a ��talk’?’

maybe it was a thank you…for always being beside him or maybe he even liked you. perhaps okkotsu had finally come to his senses and realised how much he’d always needed you…how much he loved you.. the racing thoughts in your brain hopefully jump towards a confession from your best friend and you find yourself getting giddy at its prospect. you practically skip, hop and jump to the back of your cafe, switching out your flour stained clothes for one of the spare and cleaner shirts you keep in the back — you touch up your makeup too, brighten the dark circles under your eyes and blot your worry lines with care.

you even manage to heat up a few of yuuta’s favourite pastries to serve up by candlelight — rehearsing your own words of confession as if they haven’t been looming around in your head for years.

the bell to your quaint little cafe chimes with his arrival, a rush of cool, late night air tangling with the temperate atmosphere as you lay your finishing touches on the meal you’d prepared for you both. when you look up, yuuta’s eyes have settled on you — warm and inviting as usual, but bright with a light that had been missing from them since you were young. you’ve missed it, the subtle spark that brings life to the coffee brown oasis in his eyes.

he remains as handsome as ever, taller than you by however many heads — limbs long, arms slightly muscular and waist slender, though his build is more like a dancer’s. yuuta okkotsu grew up to be a fine man and you’d be a fool to have not noticed. he crosses the room in short strides, rushing to take you into his arms and hold you close and squeeze you to his chest. yuuta smells like cookies, you note, hardly paying attention while his lips softly brush over your hairline in a sweet kiss.

“hi,” he whispers, voice smooth like melted chocolate dripping through your ears. “i’ve missed you.”

you only hope that he can’t hear your racing heartbeat, it’s speed picking up as you decide that this is your moment. the moment. “i’ve missed you too,” you mumble back, toying with a loose string on the cream cashmere the dark brunette is wearing. “yuuta…i have to tell you something—“

“i-i have something important to tell you,” he breathes out at the same time as you do, almost shy as you both sway in the centre of the room and enjoy one another’s embrace.

the both of you share a laugh that’s light and airy before you drag him over to a table and set of chairs, forcing him to sit and to eat the baked goods you’d set out for him. “you first, yuu,” it makes you happy to see him tuck in, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “you owe me a story after disappearing on me today.”

okkotsu nods in agreement, his cheeks adorably full of food and pastry flaked across his milky skin. “‘m sorry, i was sortin’ something out la’sht minute.”

“yeah?”

“y-yeah! i’m moving,” yuuta drops the bomb like it’s nothing. “abroad. for a job! professor gojo set me up and it’s s-supposed to help build my confidence and stuff—“

your world falls apart in an instant, sucking away the oxygen in your lungs until you feel like your lungs are failing. yuuta is leaving you and this time it’s for real.

confessing to him now wouldn't mean shit, you’d only be holding him back. your face crumples faster than you can control at the thought and after years of knowing you— okkotsu instantly picks up your change in mood.

“what’s wrong?” he says your name and even that hurts to hear.

“n-nothin’ yuu, i’m happy for you, really.” comes your broken voice over the quiet, you fake it until you make it.

“really? you don’t look like it.”

running a hand over your tired face, you force a smile. “really. especially if you think this is what’s best for you.”

“it is!” yuuta nearly snaps, controlling himself— stopping himself from yelling at you and tearing your friendship apart before he’s gone. “i need this, need’a be my own person. after college, after highschool i didn’t have time for any of that! i need this.”

needs it more than he needs you.

“okay.” you say simply, blankly.

“okay.” he says back.

the debate doesn’t last that much longer after that — the room fills with silence as you grieve your faltering friendship. whatever confession you had planned, now forgotten.

voicemail #3 - “yuuta! i wasn’t sure how long your flight was but please call me when you land! you’re gonna do great at your new job.”

yuuta doesn’t call after he lands, in fact two entire days pass before you actually hear from him. after the argument, you’d try to stay on good terms as though not to lose him for good — helping him pack and sort out his currencies, buying him language books since you knew he would struggle with the new dialect.

you figure it’s because he’s unpacking and not because he doesn’t want anything to do with you — and while you make some late night tea, you find that it’s better to imagine him alone in a new foreign country, picture his pretty pink lips struggling to form the vowels of the new language too, envision how he’ll tan under the blistering hot heat and how excited he’ll be to try new things.

its humiliating how easily he can preoccupy your thoughts from thousands of miles away and makes your heart race so fast that it might burst through the bones and flesh of your chest. he occupies your every thought like a fungus crawling across your brain that’s only disrupted by the sound of your phone ringing loudly — making you drop your tea and jump up to answer.

“hey,” the way yuuta says your name sends tingles down your spine — filtering out any pain you feel from burning your hand. he looks good too, dark hair flopping over his eyes, voice gravelly with sleep as if he’s just woken up and you’re the first thing on his mind. “i got your message, s-sorry for not calling i’ve been—“

you cut him off, eager to speak and draw the call out for as long as possible because you missed him. “busy? a guy like you must be extremely popular on the other side of the world.” you’re chipper in an attempt to cover how flustered you are and to cheer your best friend up when you notice how nervous he looks.

“not exactly… i’m nervous. e-everything seems so big ‘nd scary without you here…”

without you.

you shake your head over the grainy FaceTime call. “you’ve always done fine without me, you’ll do even better without having to cover for my shyness!” he laughs at that, the sound like a sweet song to soothe your aching heart. “you got this yuuta.”

your best friend gives you a sleepy smile, one that melts you like a knob of butter on a hot stove and has your knees knocking. “you’re the best, you know that? you always know what to say.”

the static crackles between you and your heart leaps into your throat.

“i’m always here for you, yuuta.”

“and i’m glad for that,” he yawns. “i love you.”

you have to remind yourself that what your best friend says is strictly platonic but you almost selfishly repeat the words back to yuuta until you notice he’s fallen back asleep.

ending the call, you clutch your phone and burned hand to your chest.

“i love you too.”

voicemail #4 - “hey sorry i missed your call, time zones can be crazy! work has been catching up with me and, well, i made a new friend!”

for the first week, you and yuuta text everyday while he’s away. you do your duty and act as his crutch like you always have— keeping him company while he works, eats and commutes all on his own. you feel bad that you lap up the attention he gives you over the phone through his loneliness. you could be compared to a desperately hungry stray animal at the way you drink up every little interaction you have. giving pieces of yourself away to keep your best friend happy.

but as time goes on, okkotsu seems less and less worried about his job — easily slipping into the language here and there, no longer relying on you to stand on his own two feet. the frequency of your communication dwindles to the point where you really feel like you’re oceans apart.

even yuuta notices the change within himself — the confidence that filters through him when he says yes to the pretty girl who works in the cubicle next to him when she asks him to tag along for drinks with the rest of the office one night which soon becomes a regular thing. he knows that he speaks less with you and that your texts are barely there but he’s sure you won’t mind the distance. you’re a busy girl, you run a cafe, a few days of not talking wouldn’t do any harm.

“oooh, she’s pretty. who is that?”

kasumi miwa is the one to pull yuuta out from the fog of his thoughts. the brunette looks up from his phone, your face flashing across it’s lock screen as the background. a photo where you have your arms wrapped around him from behind and your smile is as bright as the sunshine. miwa is a pretty girl, different from you. her voice is smoother and eloquent where yours is charming and sweet — she doesn’t remind him of home, or smell like the warmth of a chocolate chip cookie…but she is pretty. her presence is enough to make him shy.

he’s caught her looking a few times, her touch lingering whenever miwa passed him paperwork and right now; her cheeks are tinged pink probably from the alcohol the office is drinking inside where yuuta had come out for some fresh air.

okkotsu clicks his phone shut and stands up at full height to face his blue-haired coworker. “i… i haven’t spoken to her in a while. i miss her.” he says wistfully as he gives your name

“well, if i were dating a girl that pretty, i would miss them too.”

“o-oh! we’re not together! she’s my best friend!”

the woman beside yuuta cocks her head, a satisfied grin spreading across the slope of her lips. “you should call her — i’ll be waiting inside.”

he follows her eyes as she walks off, along with the whiff of her chanel perfume, before his gaze lands on his phone — he calls your phone.

you answer after the second ring, though don’t speak straight away, letting the silence wear the both of you thin. “how’ve you been?” you say quietly, lacking the chipperness to your tone that you usually have whenever the two of you ring each other up. there’s no hello, no warmth, you’re cold.

but yuuta doesn’t ask — he’d like to think he knows you well enough not to. he thinks that you’re fine, probably tired from work and it’s late over there too. if he cared to catch up with you, he’d have been more considerate of that.

“good!” the brunette chirps in order to keep the mood light, leaning over a nearby railing. i miss you. yuuta wants to add, but the words feel like cotton in his mouth, sticking unpleasantly to every surface and for some reason they don’t feel right to say— feel foreign. “work’s been good. i think i’m getting the hang of things around here. my co-workers are great, i get this amazing view every morning a-and—“

“and?”

“i met someone! i think! i wanna get to know her more but she’s been great to me so far…you’d like her!”

hearts don’t make a sound when they break, but if they did— you’re sure that yuuta would have been able to hear yours even from halfway across the globe. over his own ramblings he can hardly make out the shatter of your vital organ as it falls to pieces, cracks into tiny shards with jagged edges that could make you bleed if you tried to put it back together…because your best friend having met someone means he’s moving on. leaving you behind. and he’s too tone deaf to notice.

through the static of a phone call, okkotsu misses the crumple of your face and the way your throat bobs as you swallow back salty tears and two decades worth of unrequited love. you’re devastated and he can’t even tell, barely noticing the way you rush off the phone while he’s halfway through a sentence.

his brows furrow when he realises you’ve hung up.

“i take it that didn’t go well?” kasumi questions when yuuta re-renters the bar, her face sympathetic but voice elevated with smugness.

he shakes his head once. “no, but it’s okay. she’s been busy.”

he excuses you but kasumi doesn’t let up, pushing for more of yuuta — breaking him out from his shell, stealing and keeping the pearl of his heart for her taking. “don’t be too sad yuuta, you have me and your new friends, we’ll keep you company instead.”

there’s a hidden meaning behind her cherry picked words. she’ll keep him company — and for once, yuuta doesn’t feel guilty for trying to break away from you.

voicemail #5 - “what happened between us yuuta? you used to tell me everything and now you’ve got a girlfriend? i didn’t even find out through you!”

there’s an unspoken rule to a friendship that’s lasted as long as yours and yuuta’s – you’re supposed to tell each other everything. there’s not been a secret between you in all the years you’ve known each other except for minor white lies that couldn’t amount to major forms of harm. he might have told you that your hair looked fine on days where you’d barely any time to tend to it and you might have told him that he hadn’t been awkward presenting in front of your entire college class… but those were worthless lies. strings of words tied together that didn’t mean anything, that didn’t have any intent to harm.

there were no secrets, no major ones.

until now.

“he’s got a girlfriend, yanno…”

the news is shared with you casually from over the counter one day by your irritating white-haired ex-professor who makes a habit of annoying his old students. he comes in for sweets often and the daifuku you make is his favourite – you offer him extra in exchange for updates on the classmates you used to share since he’s nosey like that.

with every visit to your little cafe, gojo filled you in on everything yuuta had been up to in the blurred weeks and months since you’d last spoken – including his relationship status. “she’s pretty too, long hair. s’blue which is an odd colour, but she’s been good to him, ‘pparently. boosted his confidence.”’ the man cocks his head, watching in real-time as your movements in packing up his order slow down.

your throat bobs whilst you swallow your fading pride in front of your teacher, forcing down a wave of tears. it doesn’t matter how many times yuuta gets over you, moves on from you, finds someone to love other than you… it still hurts. it’ll always hurt knowing that he can fill the other half of his heart with someone that isn't you, while your own stays void and empty.

as always, satoru gojo sees right through your resolve as you total up his order – again forgoing charging him extra for the little tid bit of gossip he’d given you. there’s a shell of someone he doesn’t recognise in place of the girl he used to teach – the one who was once full of life and eager to learn, get out into the world and achieve your dreams. yuuta okkotsu had chipped away at you, the years you’d spent protecting his feelings had caused you to drown in your own.

and gojo could see that, he knew that. he’d been through it before.

he only wishes he had better words of comfort for you.

“you love him, don’t you?” he asks you quietly as you ring him up but you answer with his total in yen instead – sniffling as you do. professor gojo takes his brown paper bag, full of enough sugar to make the heart stop – to kill a person, but even that’s a better death than the heartache you’re going through now. you sniff and he offers you a sad smile that doesn’t quite reach the sapphire eyes behind his shades. “better yet, don’t answer that. i don’t need anymore tears in my daifuku.”

voicemail #6 - “oh fuck yuuji, right there…” “here baby? oh you’re so cute, fuck ‘m gonna—!” “oh… yuuji!”

( incoming voicemail from - yuuta: “hey, call me back? who’s yuuji? are you okay?” )

yuuta knows that he shouldn’t have kept listening – he should have deleted the voicemail as soon as he caught onto what was happening. it didn’t take a genius to know what was going on, the sounds of skin slapping on skin, your voice wavering with the tune of lust even over the static crackle of the voicemail you’d left.

he wishes that he’d never heard you moan out like that for someone else, that he wasn’t picturing the faces you’d make underneath the body of another man…but he couldn’t help it. the more he listened, the angrier he felt, the more betrayal flooded his veins and clouded his usually clear judgement. the brunette had no right to be this mad at you, he was supposed to be happy with miwa, supposed to be letting you move on just like he had done from you.

and yet, like a necrotizing parasite – jealousy feasts at the back of okkotsu’s mind. it disrupts his work, distracts him from his girlfriend and fills his mind with flashing images of you being fucked five ways by another man. one that isn’t him. yuuji. who even is yuuji? how did you meet him? were you dating him? you hadn’t talked in so long so the guy had barely come up in conversation. you were best friends that used to tell each other everything and now he felt like you were fucking someone new behind his back. yuuta knew nothing of what that stranger meant to you, he had no idea that yuuji itadori was just some college boy you’d brought home one drunken night – to act as a salve for the burns your childhood best friend had left on you.

it's a temporary fix, yuuji’s tongue laps at your wounds – pleasures you with teeth and tongue until your head is light and you’re almost too dizzy to think properly. in the moment, he felt good, he took care of you…but he wasn’t who you wanted. he wasn’t yuuta.

was it bad that you basked in the jealous rage and attention the brunette had bathed you in? drowning you in a barrage of text messages the morning after you’d slept with itadori, when yuuta finally had the chance to listen to the voicemail you’d left by accident. it was the most you’d gotten out of him in the months you’d been separated.

yuuta - 7:16AM: hey…did you mean to send that? call me when you’re up.

yuuta - 7:45AM: i don’t think i was supposed to hear that…

yuuta - 8:34AM: who’s yuuji?

yuuta - 8:36AM: are you seeing someone? call me please.

yuuta - 8:57AM: pick up the phone.

yuuta - 9:21AM: it’s not funny anymore. i’m worried. pick up.

you answer your phone around noon, having given yourself the space to think over cooking a hang-over breakfast for yuuji. the sounds of spitting oil underneath frying eggs had provided the soundtrack to your thoughts – helped you pick and choose the words you would say to yuuta before your companion slips out of your apartment and you tell him to grab a pastry from your cafe downstairs on his way out. a little thank you for the night you’d shared.

“what the hell was that?” is the first thing yuuta snarls down the line once your call connects.

you shift your phone in your grasp, as if his seething tone has scorched the palm of your hand. “are we past greetings or somethin’, yuu?” you fail to admit that it hurts you, starting the call without his tender and caring ‘hello’, you feel like an enemy on the battlefield to okkotsu, rather than his friend.

“i think we are well past that, especially with the kind of voice messages you’ve been leaving me.” he says it like he’s disgusted with you, when he really just misses you. craves you. he’s angry at himself and for letting you slip between his fingers into the grasp of another man. not at you. never at you. but even cell phone lines connecting calls from across the globe can’t properly convey the way yuuta feels. “what’s going on with you? why are you acting like this? we haven’t spoken in weeks and you–?”

“why is what i do any of your business anymore, yuuta?” you snap through his flurry of questions, growing heated yourself. “i accidentally left you a voicemail of me fucking someone, that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me.”

“you’re just… not like this. we don’t speak and all of a sudden…y-you’re different!”

you clutch the phone tighter, swallowing thickly. “and who’s fault is that? let me answer that for you. it’s yours. you’re the one who got a girlfriend and left me in the dust. not the other way around!” you argue, trying to sound stern and steady though yuuta can hear the wobble to your words loud and clear. “you shouldn’t have listened, you should have called. you let the distance become a problem between us.”

he scoffs, an action so unlike your best friend. “we’re not children anymore! you should have talked to me about the distance!”

“i couldn't!” you defend yourself, desperate for the pain in your heart to be heard for once. “you were finally happy again yuuta! that mattered to me—“

“you think i'm happy about hearing my best friend get…defiled over the phone?”

“well you should be! it means I’m not hung up on you anymore, that i’m moving on from being in love with you! leaving you so that you can be happy in your new life!”

the silence from yuuta’s end of the phone is both too loud and too deafening.

“you…loved me?” he whispers, switching back to that same sweet tone he always used when it came to you. “why didn’t you say?”

your stupid little confession, the one you’d been holding back for more than half your life, sips out before you can catch it with the tip of your tongue and you instantly feel terrible for weaponizing your crush on okkotsu against him. at least that’s what it feels like you’ve done. “i never told you…because i’m not selfish, yuuta,” you stutter out, your face hot with oncoming and flustered tears. “i-i'm not a selfish person. i wouldn’t sacrifice our friendship or your happiness, not just because i loved you.”

yuuta says your name, but blood rushes through your ears in embarrassment – way too fast for you to catch it, and you hang up before you can humiliate yourself any further.

before you can hear him say that he loves you too.

voicemail #7 - “open up, i'm coming home. please be here when I’m home.”

the number you have dialled is unavailable, please try again later.

after the slip of your tongue and confession to yuuta— he was met with radio silence. you’d blocked him on every form of social media possible and he couldn’t even blame you. you wanted to be free from him, from that silly and imaginary red string that had kept you tied to his soul for all of these years. it hurt to think when everything reminded you of him, so you buried yourself in your cafe and worked yourself to death because even the sweet relief from life would be better than living without your best friend.

gojo had stopped by and taken you to the hospital twice since you’d worked yourself into exhaustion — tonight was no different, sentenced to bed rest by your ex-professor and the best doctor he could find. he always did look out for his students.

sleeping your sadness away had caused you to miss a barrage of yuuta’s calls — if you’d picked up you’d have known that he was coming home. coming home for you. in the wake of your love confession, okkotsu had realised how much he needed you and how much he loved you. you had never left his side, no matter what yuuta had been through, and now, nothing feels right without you.

so he broke up with his girlfriend, took leave from his job and flew halfway across the world for you — to give his message in person.

it’s near midnight by the time yuuta gets back to japan, the warm yellow of the streetlights illuminating the path right up to your apartment after getting out of the uber. there’s a spare house key, glinting gold, hidden under your cupcake shaped doormat just as yuuta remembers and he uses it to slip inside — dumping his bag and kicking his shoes off at the entryway. his socked feet locate the bedroom with ease, perhaps drawn by your aura and the anticipation of seeing you again.

and there you are, so close yet so far away — your face peaceful and painted with an adorable expression of slumber. okkotsu notes the way your chest slowly rises and falls, the crease between your brow as if you’re having a bad dream. he could fix it… whatever’s plaguing your sleeping mind, he knows that he can, because whenever you touch each other, it’s like your bodies know to relax and that they’re safe.

tiptoeing deeper into the room, the brunette slinks up to the side of your bed and the mattress dips underneath the weight of his knee as he seats himself beside you. you’re so beautiful, so calm. he doesn’t know how he went his whole life without choosing you, choosing other people over you time and time again. “i love you,” yuuta whispers into the dead of the night, brushing a thumb and forefinger over the apple of your cheek — hesitating when you roll into his body heat. “i love you. i’m so sorry.” he says again, while pressing a feather light kiss to that same spot.

his breath hitches when you reach for him this time, grabbing at the man in your sleep.

yuuta kisses you again, but on your forehead. then your other cheek, your chin, your inner wrists and finally — your lips. each brush of his own against you is increasingly feverish, pouring unspoken emotions into them as he quietly utters the words ‘i love you.’ over and over again. he feels like he has something to prove, as if the brunette has to show you how much he cares for you — leaving a trail of sweet smooches between the valley of your breasts from over your night-shirt to between your thighs that spill out of the loose material.

he only hopes that this is enough for you to forgive him, for you to love him back like he does you.

your best friend… or ex best friend really should feel bad about this, teething on the swell of your thighs— his fingertips sinking into their apex to pry you apart for him. you could end up hating him more for this, yuuta’s slick and drool stained tongue rolling over the seam at the crotch of your panties hungrily, softly as if to test the waters. he takes it as a good sign when your face contorts with pleasure even in your sleep and slots his entire mouth against the sweet treasure between your legs— sucking the juices from the fabric of your underwear.

you taste so good and he’s not even got you properly wet yet. yuuta’s next move is to hook two fingers over the garment to pull it aside — revealing your twitching hot cunt to the cool night air in your bedroom. even your scent is divine, enticing just as you’ve always been and the brunette can’t believe he was too blind to see it before. he presses a chase kiss to your clit, feeling it pulse to life against his lips before said kisses become open mouthed and sloppy— tongue diving into the tightness of your little hole, circling it to flick your flavour back into his mouth.

his movements start slow, tenderly testing which spots inside your pretty little cunt make you sigh out contently while you slumber but the wetter you get, the sloppier yuuta becomes — lapping at your sex and your clit in eager movements like a kitten at a bowl of milk. you only stir awake when his fingers travel up to grip onto your ass and tug your pussy onto his face, guiding you up and down on his writhing tongue like he’s fucking you for real.

“y-yuu?” you grumble, still finding your footing in the reality of consciousness. “whas’ h-happenin’… oh my god—!” the questions you have for the mop of hair between your legs, groaning like a starved man into there too, taper into an angelic moan. pretty and airy, like music to yuuta’s ears. once you come to and fully realise what’s going on, your fingers slip into the roots of his hair and your hips buck into his mouth instinctively — even though you should be pissed. even though you should be screaming at him and kicking him off. you can’t help it that this is what you’ve always wanted. that you’ve always wanted him.

“w-what are you doing here?” you manage to ask through a whine, brain fogging up at the way yuuta’s tongue runs laps over your swelling clit.

he pulls off of you with a lewd pop that makes both of you shudder, two of his slender digits easily sliding into you where his tongue once was — guided by spit and slick. “i came home for you. i love you,” your best friend doesn’t have time to formulate proper reasoning, drunk on your saccharine flavour like you’re the finest wine he’s ever had the honour of tasting. “f-fuck, i-i missed you.”

yuuta gives you those big puppy dog eyes as he curls his digits inside of you and hits spots you can't quite reach on your own. you should be talking about your feelings not fucking through them but you’ve missed him so much and need him so bad. both of you groan in unison when he brushes over your g-spot, your hips jumping up and his grinding down into your silky sheets.

“missed you too,” you breathe and yank him up by the hair to meet your lips — making out with him feverishly, swapping the words your mind can’t seem to force you to say, pouring the mixed emotions into him as he finger fucks your tight little hole like his life depends on it.

every movement you make with one another is sloppy and uncoordinated, tongues doused in one another’s saliva— saliva that tastes like you. your moans mingle in the hot and heavy air and you clench down on yuuta’s fingers as they pump in and out of you, his palm slapping against your folds while you leak into the seat of his palm.

“are you close?” yuuta slurs into your mouth so quietly you almost miss it underneath the lewd sound of your pussy. “i want to make you cum, show you how much i love you.”

blood rushes through your ears, heat pin pricking like needles under your skin. “y-yes. p-please yuu…”

his thumb dragging smooth circles over the pulsating bud between your blooming pussy lips is all you need to trip over the edge into your high— the knots in your lower tummy unwinding faster than you can register, waves of your nectar flowing from your cunt onto the sheets below and soiling yuuta’s hand right up to his wrist.

your head tips back into a high pitched squeal, eyes locked away and rolling back while you damn near black out from your orgasm. but your best friend is right there like he should be, sucking love-bites into your neck to ground you. dark tresses of yuuta’s chocolate-like hair tickle at your tingling flesh while he manoeuvres himself between your legs and shifts his pants down enough to let his rock hard cock spring free.

“c-can you take me now?” he pleads more than he asks, brown and warm eyes trembling with need, anticipation. “i don’t think i’ll last long and i need you.”

you feel him press at your entrance, his angry red tip glistening with opaque beads of precum— yuuta softly ruts his hips against you, smearing…claiming you with his own essence while he waits for your consent. “i’ve always needed you, yuuta.” you say breathlessly, giving him a small grin and nod when he looks up from drooling against your neck.

that’s all the go ahead he needs before his thick girth pushes all the way into you at once — weighty and temperate against your ribbed and creamy walls. “‘ohmyfuckinggod,” he whimpers wetly against you. “y-you’re so tight wrapped around me. so perfect i—“

“move, yuuta. fuck me, please,” you remind him, tugging on his air and crossing your ankles at the base of his spine.

“y-yeah okay…g-god you’re so good. so sweet ‘n tight.” with that, he draws his hips back — hesitant at first. brown eyes watch your face for any signs of discomfort and yuuta’s lust driven instincts take the lead when he only notices how blissed out you look. your pretty lips are agasp, forming a pleasure-filled ‘o’ as you mewl and claw at his half-clothed shoulders. “i love you, o-oh god!”

all you can do is whimper in response, fingers drifting up to the nape of yuuta’s neck to tangle in his dark locks— tugging him into you as if it’ll make him hit deeper, churn up your guts and make you see stars. “y-you’re stupid…” you manage to get out, the warmth of your breath glossing his lips as if to taunt your best friend with a kiss.

“i know…” calloused fingers grab at the backs of your thighs with a bruising grip before yuuta pushes your legs towards your shoulders, both of you grunting and whining in unison when you tighten around him at the new angle. gushing sweet juices that paint his stomach and pelvis.

“y-you shouldn’t have left me,” tears start to brim, collecting in your lash line like diamonds before they hit your cheeks.

you’re so beautiful like this, even when you’re crying— when you’re crying because you’re fucked up on his cock, claiming it with your cream as ur clings to his balls and the veins that spital down his length.

yuuta’s red hot tip nudges against the soft and squishy spots along your sensitive walls, keeping his thrusts at a rhythmic and passionate pace to make sure the only thing you feel is heaven on earth. your pussy is hot and warm and heaven-like around him, sucking him in so selfishly and tightening every time yuuta’s strong abs grind against your puffy clit.

“i know,” he sighs dreamily and with an airy voice, licking a stripe from your chin to your cheek as a tear streaks it’s way down it. “won't ever leave you again,” his fingers touch at your face, sinking into the softness of your cheeks as he drags you up to face him. “i’ll never leave you again.”

“never?” you ask, hiccuping.

“never.” he moans.

you see it there, the love glittering amongst the almond flecks in your childhood best friend’s eyes — he means it, he promises it and you can feel it with every roll of yuuta’s hips into you while he pins you to the bed. he makes love to you and says what he needs to through his actions this time. through your tangled mess of sweaty limbs and fluttering lashes you find okkotsu’s hand, linking them together.

the sight of your hands meeting one another brings emotions bubbling to the surface of your skin, hot to yuuta’s touch — it's a symbol that you’ve finally come together after being worlds apart for so long. “you’re finally mine, ‘m never letting you go,” his warm breath coasts across the seam of your lips before he dips into kiss you— tongue gliding over yours as it pushes into the depths of your mouth just as his cock does, brushing up against your g-spot and just kissing your cervix. “you’re always going to be mine.”

“i-i’m yours,” your eyes roll back and yuuta loses his pace, his entire body twitching the closer you both get. sex taints the air, both in sound and scent, your cunt squelching around him with how wet you are and how much he leaks into you. “g-gonna cum, yuu! make me cum, make me fucking cum.” you slur out, anchoring the man down to you with your arms around his neck until yuuta’s forehead is pressed against yours. sweaty locks of his hair and all.

yuuta’s body collapses against you and his thrusts switch to sensual grinds that never let up on your spongey g-spot. “f-fuck me, b-baby. ‘m cummin’,” he croons, panting against your lips and with one, two, three more pumps you’re squirting all over him— the pressure unwinds in your lower belly and you’re hit with blinding white lights and your nails dig into yuuta’s shoulder to the point where you leave bright red crescent moons. “that’s it baby, cum for me, make a mess for me. show me you love me— fuck!”

you’re still trembling with the aftershocks with your orgasm when the brunette follows suit — the warmth of his seed floods your quivering cunt, painting your folds an opaque white before yuuta pulls out. the last droplets of his cum hit your soft tummy accompanied by his high pitched whine and then he crumples against you, exhausted from the height of it all.

“i love you so much,” yuuta hums against your skin, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder. “it’s always been you.”

“i love you,” you affirm, knowing that no matter what distance is put between you and your best friend (now lover) — you’ll always find your way back to each other.

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moonpascaltoo · 7 months

Text

Fic Recs (steve harrington)

just some of my favorite one-shots or series i’ve read on ao3 and few from tumblr. all works ranging from 1.5k to 30k+ i believe. 18+ readers!

some have a tumblr that i tagged, but others i couldn’t find . i am doing this on mobile which is a bit difficult haha! i read these all (except 2) on ao3 so the links will be ao3. i know some are here on tumblr but i didn’t realize till after reading and making this! <3

steve harrington

come home by @stevie-petey <3💕

-"come home to me, okay?"

"always," steve promises

in between saving will, then hawkins, then somehow the world, you fall in love with steve harrington.

(a stranger things rewrite).

dancing with our hands tied by @andvys

-You and Steve have never seen eye to eye, and it never changed, not even when you were pulled into a world of monsters and risked your life to save him. But tension had always been between you both, something that neither of you ever wanted to admit -- but how much longer can you take it when the pull between you gets stronger and stronger each second you spend by each others side?

paint me red by eddiemunsons ao3

-You're one of Vickie's best friends. Her girlfriend, Robin, is in need of a distraction for her best friend, Steve Harrington, who you vaguely remember from school. Which is where you come in.

i’m your idiot by thebestandworstdayofjune ao3 @thebestandworstdayofjune

-Steve Harrington has a way of worming himself into your heart, and social situations you had done your best to exclude him from.

small hands, big heart by finalgirlharrington ao3 @sexybabystevie

-Steve Harrington has a massive crush on you, but his recent lack of luck in the romantic sense has him stuck on how to make a move. Plus, something about you makes him nervous in a way he's never been – in a way he likes. His simplest solution? Flirting via the old 'comparing hand sizes' method.

promise by Harley_Honey_Quinn ao3

-Reader learns about Steve's feelings thanks to some Russian truth serum.

kiss me by @corrodedseraphine

-Your friend is desperately trying to find a person who will give him something more. Wanting to feel what it's like to be loved again and after many failed dates he gets the idea that it's time to go back to King Steve's famous tactics. Telling him that it's not the best idea gets you involved in a deal where you have to help him get another girl. Will helping the boy you're in love with turn out to be a good idea? Probably not.

every rose has its thorn by @corrodedseraphine

-Christmas is coming to Hawkins. It is a time of joy and forgiveness. It turns out that your sister's best friend is looking for a new place to live, and you happen to have a spare room in the apartment. It wouldn't be a problem if that friend wasn't Steve Harrington. A man whom the more you try to avoid even more often comes back like a boomerang.

hearts on the telephone line by t_lostinworlds ao3 @t-lostinworlds

-You thought Steve was okay dealing with a long-distance relationship after you moved for an exciting internship in New York. But you were proven so wrong when your boyfriend finally poured his feelings over the phone. Because distance wasn't making his heart grow fonder, it was breaking it.

competitively stupid by t_lostinworlds ao3 @t-lostinworlds

-It was stupid, jumping off a cliff just to prove that you were better than Steve fucking Harrington. But you were competitive. You were not losing to him. But you know what was stupider? For it to take a near-death situation for you both to confess what you truly feel for each other.

perfect blend by Your_Writer ao3

-No one likes their summer job. Working at a coffee shop was sticky, exhausting, and overall boring. In fact, the highlight of your day was the charming, gentle eyed sailor scooping USS Butterscotch just across the way.

the things we don’t say by rdrickheffley ao3

-Steve Harrington once was the bane of Y/n's existence. He had always been an arrogant asshole and a terrible kisser. She never understood how others fell for the boy's eye-roll worthy charm. Now it seems like he will do anything to prove her wrong about anything.

next time? by rdrickheffley ao3

-Three instances where Steve and reader find themselves in intimate situations.

candyfloss and confessions by ACourtofSnakesandStars ao3

-You’ve been in love with Steve Harrington for years, like every cliche come to life. You’ve battled monsters, found friends within kids with superpowers, and you even managed to graduate. Yet the one thing you’ve never been able to do, is tell Steve how you feel. But maybe you don’t need to wait any longer.

a night to remember by RaeWrites94 ao3

-Steve has to attend his 10 year high school reunion and somehow manages to convince you to go as his date and his fake girlfriend. You've had feelings for him for a long time, but figure, why not? You could probably survive an evening of pretending he liked you back and come out unscathed. Right?

with bated breath by brianmay ao3

-Rumors fly after you attend Steve Harrington’s party one weekend in September. Thinking they were his doing, you do everything in your power to avoid him, which proves easier said than done.

cross my heart (and hope to die) by @talesofesther

-Every time Steve gets hurt, you're there to help pick up the pieces; you just weren't expecting him to fall for you in the process.

tales of a love between the lines by @talesofesther

-Sometimes the thing we want most is right in front of us, and Steve might be just that for you; all you have to do is see what he’s been showing you for a long time.

love is easy by seidenbros ao3

-The day you wrote I love you on a post-it note before you'd said the words out loud, and it's the best note Steve ever got.

everything means nothing if i can’t have you by iridescentpetrichor ao3

-Steve and Y/N go on a double date to impress the other one, but it's only so long until the tension between the two breaks.

you’re not by frostandflames ao3 @frostandflamesfanfic

-The year is 1985, you're on a school field trip to cheer on Hawkins High at the championship game before spring break. When the game doesn't pan out as expected, you're even more surprised to discover the one and only Steve Harrington in only his underwear at your hotel room after being locked out by his teammates. What happens when the two of you have a little heart to heart?

last christmas by frostandflames ao3 @frostandflamesfanfic

-You and Steve had always been childhood friends-and remained that way. As Steve ping-pongs around in his relationship status, you have a hard time keeping your feelings to himself as Nancy surrounds his entire world. What Steve doesn't know is his relationship to Nancy may end your own with Steve.

the scoundrel and the princess by @mrshipsmcgee

-after an awkward run in with Tommy Hagan, Steve Harrington is invited to an awful party where he meets a beautiful stranger.

cling by aloevera

-For as long as you could remember, you and Steve have been close. What others see as clingy, Steve sees as comforting, right? Or, you fell in love with your best friend and suddenly, everything is too much.

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moody-alcoholic · 17 days

Text

These Violent Delights

Chapter 4 - The Distance

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe. 8.7k words. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder.

CW: MDNI +18 explicit content. a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes, nightmares, mentions of torture, mentions of past abuse, mentions of past SA, choking, receiving injections, sex, anal sex, spanking, handjob.

AN: The writers block has been ROUGH but hey ya get your first smut for the series. It is a poly fic after all. XD

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

You’re sitting in John’s office with Dr. Piper while he’s looking through some folders. You’re trying hard to not be nervous. It reminds you of the times you would be called into the Professor's office. It was rarely for anything good. John puts the papers away, locking the drawer on his desk. It’s way too familiar for your liking, but John doesn’t look mad.

“We’re going to be leaving for a few days, 3 at the most,” John says.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“Wisconsin.

“You shouldn’t need us. I’ll leave you a way to contact us but if you do I’m going to assume it’s an emergency.” He looks between you both. Now you’re worried about him, all of them. They’re probably going away to do something dangerous. You could never see them again, they’re soldiers after all.

“What are you going to do?” you ask.

“Dr. Montgomery let us know where we can find some of the formula. We’re going to get some so it can speed up her research,” John explains. So they can find a cure sooner. You’re still not sure what to think of this, but you know they want a cure.

You look over at Dr. Piper. She’s listening to him. You shouldn’t care, it’s your job to be a good omega and do whatever your alpha wants. John and Simon both want a cure. You’re not really listening to the conversation but Dr. Piper nods at him now and then. They’re going to be gone for a few days. You can live with that, just a few days.

“We’ll be back before you know it.” John smiles. You smile back at him.

“When are you leaving?” you ask.

“Tonight.”

Tonight comes quicker than you think. Everyone had been so busy that Johnny and Kyle didn’t even have time to eat dinner with you. It’s the first time you’d been to the mess alone. You missed the days when Dr. Piper would bring you your meals and you didn’t have to leave the barracks. She said getting out of the barracks is good though, a nice change of scenery and fresh air.

You can’t sleep. You're not sure why. You’re turning around in bed and whatever position you’re in feels uncomfortable. You can see the light coming in under your door, you can hear their voices in the common room. You want to see them again, one last time before they leave. You slip out of bed pulling your arms around your chest. With the window open your room is always cold.

You crack open the door and you can see them all moving around the common room. You see John’s back as he gives orders in a low voice. You’re sneaking down the corridor. You don’t know why you’re trying to be sneaky. It’s not like you’d get into trouble for wanting to say goodbye to them. You see Johnny leave the building as you make it to John, and it’s almost like he senses you before you have time to reach out to tap him on the back. He turns around, looking at you, resting the tablet he has in his hands down by his side.

“You should be sleeping,” he says.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admit. A little smile forms on his lips as he puts his hand on your shoulder.

“We’ll be back soon,” he says. You look up in his eyes, his deep blue eyes. He looks sad, his expression soft. Maybe if you beg, he’ll stay.

“What if you get hurt?” you say. He lets out a chuckle, his hand moving up to your face.

“No one’s getting hurt. Not on my watch,” he says, and you believe him. What if he gets hurt though? You don’t think you could live with yourself if any of them got hurt.

“Cap, the truck’s here.” You look past John to see Kyle sticking his head around the door. He pauses when he notices you. John waves him away before turning his attention back to you.

“You’re not going to worry while we’re gone are you?” Price says. You shake your head, and he leans down kissing the top of your head. You wish he didn’t have to go. His scent strong in the air, you project your scent onto him. It’s all you can really do. You see him react to it, his thumb stroking your cheek. He sighs, dropping his hand and turning to leave. You smile for him. That's what he needs, for you to be a good omega for him and not worry, or at least make him think you’re not worried.

“Stay safe,” you call as he leaves out the door.

“Always,” he says, smiling. You watch as he leaves, the door closing behind him. The place already feels empty. You hit the switch on the wall and the building goes dark. You walk back down to your room, there’s already a pit forming in your stomach. You almost want to wake up Dr. Piper just so you’ll have someone near you so you won’t be alone. You walk into your room seeing your nest. It’s all you want. You rush over to it, flopping down on the pillows, pulling the blankets over you. They’ll be safe, they know what they’re doing.

Your dreams are filled with visions of everyone dying. Johnny dies quickly, always shot in the head bleeding out on the floor. Kyle’s not so lucky, some kind of chemical that burns his skin and his lungs as he screams in pain. Simon’s next he takes the longest to go down, fighting to the bitter end, his body punctured with knives and bullets.

Then there’s John, it’s always the Professor who gets him and tortures him just like every other alpha he’s slaughtered. You hate the Professor being in your dreams, you hate that you’re riddled with nightmares. Dr. Piper said it’s normal—something called PTSD. You hate that they’ve all left, you hate Dr. Piper, they're doing this for her, for the cure. You don’t even want a cure. But you have to do this for them. Be a good omega.

It’s been 24 hours since they left. You’ve been lonely. You didn’t think you were going to miss them as much as you do. You miss Johnny and Kyle keeping you company, lunches have been too quiet. Dr. Piper has been so busy you haven’t seen her much, and she’s been skipping lunch. You hate being alone. The mess is loud and busy. It’s the only other time you see any other soldiers. Sometimes you see them training around the base but then they’re caught up in whatever they're doing.

You miss John the most. Dr. Piper said it’s normal to miss your pack, to feel like this. It doesn’t make it any easier, especially when you’re not sure when they’re going to be back. You hope John’s safe. You hope they all are.

In the mess people stare. You hear them talking under their breath. It makes you uncomfortable, so you eat faster, their eyes drilling into the back of you. It’s not their fault, they just don’t understand. You’re sick of being called a freak. You heard a new one yesterday, ‘barracks bunny.’ At least that doesn’t sound bad, and bunnies are cute. You miss having an alpha around, and you miss having someone you can go to for safety. Dr. Piper was right, John is a good alpha. When he comes back you want to go for another walk in the forest.

You’re not allowed to leave the base alone. Maybe you could sneak out though, figure out another way through the fence. There has to be a break in the walls somewhere. Then you could see the lake whenever you want. You sigh as you finish your pudding, it's custard flavor this time. You should take a sandwich to Dr. Piper, she probably needs it. She’s been working so hard. You throw your tray away and pick up a chicken sandwich. You walk out the mess passing soldiers coming in for a late lunch.

‘She’s fucking some SAS soldier,’ a voice says, followed with laughter. ‘Really an SAS soldier?’

Why should you even care? You shouldn’t care, all they think is that you’re some sex toy. Maybe that’s what John wants? You haven't had time to talk to him about it. He’s always been so soft, so kind. When he’s in heat, he’ll be different though. At the end of the day, it’s all you really are. An omega made for an alpha, to breed with an alpha make more omegas.

You walk over to the lab still squeezing the sandwich in your hands. You’re going to start going for food later, maybe then you can avoid the rush of soldiers. At least here you’re accepted, people won’t stare or judge you. You walk in the scent of beta is strong in the air. It’s relaxing, and you stop squishing the sandwich.

“Hey.” You turn to see the alpha looking at you, his hands behind his back as he leans forward. He’s not like other alphas. If he didn’t smell so strong, you’d presume he was a beta. Even the way he holds himself is like he’s shy.

“Dr. Miller right?” you say, keeping your distance. He nods.

“I’ve been working on a hormone blocker for Lieutenant Riley, would you like to see?” He says moving to the side of the table he’s working on. You can see a microscope set up. You nod, feeling intimidated by his presence, but you're too curious. You walk over to the table. He smiles at you and you press your eye up to the microscope. You don’t know what you’re looking at but it looks pretty.

“Awesome right?” he says, sounding enthusiastic. You back up, smiling at him.

“Do you think it will help him?” you ask. He shrugs.

“I hope so, that’s why I’m working on it.” He looks at you sympathetically.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you offer. It feels right. He smiles at you.

“I’ll let you know,” he says. You nod at him. He seems nice, he makes you think of John, kind and smiley. You walk across the lab to Dr. Pipers office. You knock and she calls you in. Her office is small, not like John's; there's no personality in it, just lab equipment and a massive window looking out into the lab. She’s sitting behind a desk typing on the computer as you sit down.

“I got you a sandwich,” you say, putting it down on her desk. “Have you ever had your own office before?” you ask her as she moves to look over at you.

“No. Are you missing them yet?” she asks.

“It’s only been a day,” you say. You do miss them though.

“They’re your pack. I would expect you to be missing them after a few hours.” She leans back in her chair. You nod.

“They’ll be back before you know it. I did ask John if one of them could stay but he said they were all needed,” she explains. You would have liked it if one of them had stayed, if not to just eat with you.

“How are the nightmares?” she asks. You hang your head, you don’t want to talk about it.

“I hear you screaming at night. We could try some sleeping pills?” she asks. You look up at her. You don’t know if you want that. Would it even help? You shake your head.

“It’s not that bad, I don’t remember them anyway,” you lie. You’ve always found lying so easy to Dr. Piper or betas in general. Even so, you can tell she doesn’t believe you, but she doesn’t push it any further.

“Think they’ll be back tomorrow?” you ask.

“I don’t know. They’ll be back when they’re back. John said it could be 3 days at least.” You nod, you don’t know what you were expecting her to say. You wonder what constitutes an emergency, what would have them racing back across the country for you.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you ask, looking out the window and seeing scientists working.

“No. You should get some rest, things are going to get busy over the next few weeks. You should appreciate the down time,” Dr. Piper smiles. You sigh, you’re sick of being stuck in the barracks, the TV can only keep you occupied for so long.

“Think it would be possible to get some books?” you ask. You used to read in the bunker. There was a bookshelf in one of the rooms, and you must have read each book about a million times but it was something to do.

“I can talk to John about it when he gets back.” She rolls away on her chair and picks up a bag pulling a book out. She hands it over to you. You take it out of her hands, it’s a pretty book with a picture of a cat and a girl on the front.

“Alice in Wonderland. It’s a bit on the nose, I was going to wait to give it to you,” she says.

“What do you mean?” you ask, flicking through it. It’s old, the pages are turning yellow on the edges, and it's got the old book smell you like.

“It’s about a girl who follows a rabbit down a hole into a mysterious land where she has adventures. It’s a classic book, if you like it I can definitely get you more.” She smiles, her computer beeping capturing her attention. You smile back getting up to leave, excited to have something to do other than watch TV.

Dr. Miller waves as you pass him, clutching the book. You rush back to the barracks. It’s starting to rain and when you make it back to your room you can hear the pitter patter of drops on the window, there’s a cool breeze brushing through and you can smell the pine from the forest. It’s perfect as you crawl into your nest, throwing a blanket round your shoulders.

You open the book surprised to see your name written on the first page. It’s signed by Dr. Piper. Happy 13th birthday. It makes a lump form in your throat. She’s had this all these years. You wonder why she never gave it to you, or maybe it was the Professor stopping her. It makes you smile. You shuffle deeper into your nest and make a mental note to thank her later as you start reading.

Doctor Montgomery and Price both agreed if there was going to be a sample of the formula it would be in Professor Hale’s mansion. He hardly spent time at his other properties, just used them when he needed to travel. Besides this was where his home lab was. It wasn’t hard to get blueprints for the mansion. The place was huge, the lab suspected to be in the basement.

“Place looks quiet, no lights, no movement.” It’s Ghost’s voice in Price’s ear.

“Copy,” he replies. The place was quiet, no cars, no one in or out for hours. The sun is starting to set and no lights are being turned on. If the Professor was here, he wasn’t letting them know. They should move in now in case someone comes back in the evening.

“Let’s move.” Price looks over at Soap and Gaz kneeling next to him on the forest's edge. He hears Ghost say copy as Soap leaves the cover of the foliage to meet him. Gaz moves too, standing up out of the bushes. Something’s different now, he feels more on edge then normal, like his senses have been turned up to the max.

“Think he’s out?” Gaz asks, breaking Price’s train of thought.

“Think so,” Price responds, getting up and walking with Gaz over to a side door. The Professor’s not a threat, but it would be nice to be able to deal with him now. He’s lucky they still don’t know where he is. The sun is low in the sky. The view from the back of the mansion is nice. Sprawling fields broken up by woodlines, he takes a moment to soak it in.

When they get to the side door Price signals for Gaz to get the crowbar in position. Everyone is stacked up on the door. He nods at Gaz who presses down on the crowbar as the door pops open. Price gives the order for Ghost and Soap to enter. They walk in. There are no alarms—that's not good. It’s almost too quiet. Everyone funnels in. Price let’s Ghost take the lead as they walk through the kitchen into what looks like a living room.

“Where’s the entrance to this basement?” Soap asks.

“Main lobby,” Gaz replies. Ghost keeps walking, scanning each corner as he moves. They make it to the lobby. Price can see the front doors. The place is quiet, there's no one here.

“Ghost, Gaz, clear the next floor, Soap let’s go,” Price says gesturing to the next room. He can see Soap smile in the dark as he moves into the next room. It doesn’t take long for Soap and Price to finish clearing the ground floor. Dr. Montgomery said it was normal to hear and see things better. One of the perks of the formula, it makes clearing rooms easier when you can sense what’s in there before you enter.

Soap was already good at sweeping rooms before this but now he’s like a fine tuned machine, Price watches his nostrils flare as he enters each room, every source of noise being snapped to in an instant. It’s mainly creaking floors, rats behind the walls. Maybe he’ll have to look into some training to help them all get better at using their senses to their advantage. At least until they have a cure.

Price can hear Ghost and Gaz upstairs, their methodical steps, the opening and closing of doors. Definitely the best thing is being able to see better even in this low light, that’s a massive advantage. The building loops round and before they know it they’re back in the lobby. Price looks for the stairs to the basement as they wait for Ghost and Gaz to come back from upstairs.

“Place is clear,” Ghost says as he comes down the stairs with Gaz following behind. Price nods and they all follow him to the open door. They make it down into the lab. The place looks ransacked. Maybe Dr. Montgomery was right and he’s fled with the only known sample of the formula. A light comes on and now Price can see the extent of the damage, it doesn’t look like there is much left. Gaz and Soap are already pulling drawers and cupboards open.

“What are we looking for exactly?”

“Medical vials, anything labeled, omega project or omega initiative,” Price says going over to a computer.

“Do you ever read the briefs?” Gaz asks.

“‘Course,” Soap replies. Gaz hums. To Price’s surprise the computer turns on as he moves the mouse. Unsurprisingly the whole thing has been wiped.

“Price!” Ghost calls from round one of the corners in the room. Price goes round seeing Ghost leaned over a computer. He presses play on the video. It's you, although you look younger, thinner. Your hair tied back, you look pale, sitting in a chair, your head slumped forward.

“How do you feel?” asks Dr. Montgomery. She’s the person sitting on the other end of the table, just out of frame. You don’t respond, just sniffle.

“It’s been 5 days, and you’re coming down from your–” there’s a pause “—19th heat.” Your head looks up, your eyes swollen with tears. There’s bruising too, on your cheeks and on your neck. A knot forms in Price’s stomach.

“Have you got any pain anywhere?” she asks. You shake your head.

“The water is for you,” Dr. Montgomery says sliding the glass closer to you. You reach out to grip it with a shaking hand. There are marks around your wrists. The video glitches and skips along.

“Heat experiment 15 was a failure.” It’s another voice out of frame. It’s a low male voice, it must be the Professor. There’s the sound of a door opening interrupting his speech.

“You said they would leave her neck and face alone.” It’s Dr. Montgomery, she sounds mad.

“Doctor, you know I cannot control people’s actions,” the Professor sighs. “Is she going to recover?”

“Physically, yes the bruising is already improving.”

“Then what is the problem?” he asks, sounding annoyed.

“She is becoming more and more aware during her heats. Mentally this is taking a toll,” Dr. Montgomery says. Simon skips to the next video. This time your hair is wet sticking to your face, blood running down the side of your head. The table is gone.

“You keep pushing and pushing. How are you ever going to be a good omega if you keep pushing your alpha!” It’s just the Professor and he sounds mad, the anger is almost radiating through the monitor. The Professor steps into frame pressing his face up against yours, you flinch trying to lean back as far as you can.

“No alpha will ever want a disobedient omega.” His hand grips your throat, choking you, pulling your neck up. Your hands grip his wrists, feet flailing.

“You will stay here until you’ve learned your lesson!” he snaps, letting you go. You fall forward out of the chair and onto the floor pulling your knees to your chest. The Professor walks out of frame for a second then comes back, pulling your hair up. You yelp in pain as he places something on the back of your neck. You scream as the Professor holds your hands away from your neck, then your body goes limp. Ghost steps forward pulling a USB stick out the computer the video stops playing.

“Soap!” Price shouts. He walks round the corner. “Did you listen to the part of the brief about which explosives to bring?”

“‘Course, sir,” he smiles. Price looks at Ghost. There’s anger in his eyes. They both just witnessed the same thing, and that was only a snippet. There’s a pit in his stomach that he hasn’t felt in years.

“Set the charges,” Price says, pushing past Soap.

“Let’s find the formula, then blow this place further into the dirt.”

“Hey, stranger,” Dr. Miller says as you walk into the lab. It’s been over 48 hours now and you’ve still not heard if they’re coming back yet or not. You smile at him as you watch him pipetting something into a test tube. He’s alone, it is getting darker out and you’re surprised anyone is still working other than Dr. Piper. You can’t remember what you came in here for. You just wanted some company from someone who understands. It didn’t take you long to finish the book, and you read it twice before falling asleep yesterday.

“Still working on the hormone blocker?” you ask him, and he nods. You pull over a stool to watch him.

“I think I’m a bad omega,” you say as he squirts more solution into another tube. The chemical changes colour.

“Missing your alpha?” he asks sympathetically. You nod, but it’s not just John. Your whole pack is gone, you miss them all.

“When did you leave the bunker?” you ask. He looks over at you for a second.

“I managed to get out a few months before Professor Hale started to kill off the alphas.”

“You were lucky,” you say. You remember the mass slaughter. The stench of blood was thick in the air for days. You remember how the Professor told you it was your fault. You were not being a good omega. You thought you remembered every alpha, the Professor made you scent all of them. Maybe there were more than you remembered.

“Do you think there can be 2 alphas in a pack?” you ask him. He sits back in the stool humming.

“I think your pack situation is very unique. I think Lieutenant Riley is very controlled,” he says. It’s not exactly what you want to hear.

“Why do you think you’re a bad omega?” he asks, changing the subject.

“I don’t know if I want the cure,” you say.

“That doesn’t make you a bad omega, that makes you human,” he says, smiling as he picks up a vial of something shaking it in his hand.

“What about you, do you want a cure?” you ask him. He pauses for a second.

“A lot of us had very normal lives before working for Professor Hale. Being in a relationship with kids, it’s hard when you have all these new instincts. Not to mention you’re the only omega we know that exists. That’s not easy for alphas knowing the only shot we have of getting an omega is one who’s already claimed,” he explains.

You didn’t think about it like that. You know what it’s like, the burning drive to find an alpha. You’ve lived through not having one for years. Maybe the Professor was being kind when he killed all the alphas, it was that or condemning them to a life of pain, searching for something they’ll never get.

“Did you have a family?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “I had a mother who lived in Oregon, she died a couple of years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” you say. That’s what you’re supposed to say when someone dies. He looks at you and smiles.

“I have some samples I need to test on you. They’re just simple compounds. I can give you them now. It would be a really big help.” You can smell his sincerity in the air. You nod before you even realise what you’re doing. He smiles going into a drawer and taking out two syringes.

“Actually, I should ask Dr. Piper,” you say.

“Don’t worry it will only take a few seconds, there’s no need to bother her, she's so busy.” His alpha is strong in the air. You don’t really have much of a choice. Before you’ve even realised it you're nodding, rolling your sleeve up. You turn to the side for him, as he cleans your arm.

“Sharp scratch,” he says pressing the first injection in, you don’t feel anything.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Captain Price is going to claim you right?” You nod. His alpha is almost suffocating, it makes nervous goosebumps rise on the back of your neck. You forgot what question you asked.

“Will it help them?” you ask. He smiles, injecting the second syringe.

“Of course, everything you do here helps them.”

“They really want a cure,” you say as he finishes and you pull your sleeve back down.

“What do you want?” he asks, turning to write something down on a clipboard.

“I want to make them happy, and be a good omega.” It doesn't matter what you think. It’s whatever they want, especially John. You want to keep him happy. He looks over from the papers to you.

“You know I have been working on an idea with Dr. Montgomery. I think maybe if you could give us a hand we could figure it out quicker.” He looks at you, you don’t know what to say. You should talk to her first.

“It would really help them. We might even be able to get a cure sooner,” he says. You swallow the lump in your throat. You should do this for them, be a good omega. You remember how angry Simon was a few days ago, even asking to be discharged. You nod reluctantly.

“I’ll talk to Dr. Montgomery, will you come back tomorrow, early morning around 6?” You nod hopping off the stool.

“You’re a good omega for this. Captain Price will be very proud.” You smile at the praise. John will be happy. The sooner they can find a cure, the happier they will be. You smile at him as you leave the lab. You wonder why Dr. Piper hasn’t approached you about helping before. Maybe she’s not ready yet, or maybe she’s just trying to give you a break.

You don’t care, she’s lied to you before, for years. Maybe Dr. Miller is closer than he thinks to a cure. The least you can do is help. You walk back to the barracks. It’s already evening and the days feel like they’ve been going faster. That’s good, at least. Hopefully they’ll be back soon.

You wake to the smell of alpha in the air. You sit up straight looking around. You’re laid out on the sofa. You don’t remember making it to the barracks or turning the TV on, or falling asleep. Your head is swimming, the scent of alpha is strong, you see the door open as Price and Johnny walk into the room. You smile when you see them, you want to throw yourself in John’s arms instead you pull yourself off the sofa.

“Hey lass did ya miss us?” Johnny says, you nod going over to them. John’s alpha scent washes over you, and you project your scent into the air for him. He looks tired.

“Yeah, it’s been boring.” Maybe you should tell them about your conversation with Dr. Miller. No, you want to wait until you have something more concrete to show them. No point in getting their hopes up for nothing.

“Did you get the formula?” you ask as Gaz walks in the building.

“You bet we did!” Johnny calls swinging a bag over his shoulder. You smile at him. That’s good, you’re happy for them. Now Dr. Piper has one less obstacle, and with the help you’ve been giving they could have a cure in a few months. John comes over to you, his scent strong. There’s something else there too. Sadness.

“Let’s have a quick chat,” he says, leading you to his office. You’ve missed him, missed being around him, missed his scent. He sits down on the sofa patting the spot next to him. You smile sitting down.

“We went to Professor Hale’s house. That was where Dr. Montgomery said we could find a copy of the formula.” Your breath catches in your throat. You dig your nails into your palms. Why didn’t they tell you?

“D-did you kill him?” you ask, swallowing hard.

“No, he wasn’t there. We got a copy of the formula, it should help Dr. Montgomery find a cure quicker.” You nod ignoring the pain in your palms. You feel relief. You shouldn’t be relieved—he was a bad man—but for some reason you’re relieved he’s not dead.

“I saw a video, a video of you—”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you say getting up. You’re embarrassed, you want to cry, you want to run away. You turn away from him, you can’t look at him right now. You were happy in the fact that you thought everything from the bunker had been destroyed. Of course the Professor kept videos of you. You can only imagine what John saw, and none of it is good.

“It’s okay,” you hear him say as he gets up off the sofa.

“I know he would take videos. I know.” You can’t stop the tears now. Cameras were just part of your life, he would record everything for research. He especially liked to record your heats. You’re lucky you remember so little of them, you wish you didn’t remember any of it. You feel John rest one of his hands on your shoulder. You freeze up. His hand is warm, strong. He’s not going to hurt you, but he could. It would be so easy for him to slip his hand on the back of your neck and it would be over. Everything in your body is telling you to protect your neck, to run. His scent is suffocating, the smell of sadness is gone. You smell something else.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says. You smell the betas worry through the doors. You know they’re standing there listening, they’re projecting, they're trying to mask your scent without even realising it.

“I’m okay.” It’s a lie. You’re being a bad omega, you’re lying to your alpha. You hear him sigh. He can tell. You tense up even more than you thought you ever could. You wait for the anger, the shouting, anything. His hand leaves your shoulder. It's not what you’re expecting, your hand goes up to the back of your neck. You swallow hard letting the betas scent relax you and turn to face John. His expression is soft. His hand slowly comes up to cup your cheek. You let him, keeping your eyes on him as he brushes your cheek with his thumb.

“They hurt you,” he says as a matter of fact. You look down, you can’t look him in the eyes right now. You can’t tell what’s embarrassment or what’s sadness.

“I only got what I deserved,” you say, looking back up at him. You can’t look in his eyes. He might not want to punish you now but he will eventually. You’re a bad omega. His hands come back to your shoulders, and you almost flinch away. His hands grip you strong and firm keeping you in place.

“If anyone tells you that you deserved what you went through, you send them my way, all right?” he asks. You nod. You trust him, you trust him.

You press yourself into his chest, your arms wrapping around him as you sob, trying your best to keep quiet. His scent fills your nose and you relax into him. He’s your alpha, you’re part of his pack.

“What are you going to do, kick their ass?” you ask, trying to lighten the mood.

“Worse,” he says, kissing the top of your head. You believe him. For a few seconds you let yourself imagine him kicking the Professor's ass. He would be able to, the Professor is bigger but John’s a trained soldier. You hum into his chest, letting your scent fill the air as his hand rubs your back.

“I trust you John, I'm just not used to trusting people,” you say, opening your eyes, the tears run down your face. He pushes you off his chest, you almost want to whine from the break of contact. His hand comes up to brush your cheeks.

“I know.” He’s gentle, his hands move slowly as you look in his eyes. You didn’t want it to just be a biology thing. You like him. You wish one day you could maybe love him. His head tips down as he leans into you, you look at his lips. He wants to kiss you, you want to kiss him. Panic rises in your chest—what if you’re a bad kisser, you’ve never kissed anyone before! You don’t have time to worry about it as his lips meet yours. You close your eyes. His lips are soft but his beard tickles your face and it makes you smile. You don’t know if you’re doing it right but you must be on the right track as he pulls you closer to him, his arms running down your body, his fingers mapping out each curve.

You don’t even realise you’re not breathing until his tongue presses against your lips and you gasp opening your mouth for him. Just like his touch his tongue is gentle too, he moves slow like he’s taking his time to explore your mouth. His hands grip your waist pulling you tighter as he continues his slow movements. You can smell it in the air now, arousal. You try to ignore it, it’s strong though almost as strong as his alpha. He senses your change in body movements and pulls away. You open your eyes looking at him, his eyes glossed over as he comes back up to stroke your cheek.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, you feel yourself blushing.

“Nothing.” You say smiling up at him. “That was nice.” He kisses your forehead, you wrap your arms around him and he pulls you into the hug. You can still smell the beta’s through the door, you feel embarrassed now, they’ve been listening to this whole thing.

“Johnny and Kyle are standing outside the door.” You smile breaking away from the hug as his hands drop down to your waist. He walks around you to the door. When he opens it you can hear them scuttling away. He turns to you and you walk back into his embrace.

“How about a cup of tea and some horrible reality TV?” he asks. You smile at him.

“All I’ve done is watch TV for the last few days.”

“Great so you’ll know all the best channels,” he says. You let him wrap his arm around him as you both walk out into the main common room. Johnny winks at you from the kitchen.

“MacTavish, Garrick, get some rest,” he says to the room which is followed by ‘yes sirs.’

“Where’s Simon?” you ask.

“I’m sure he’ll be around soon,” John says as he moves you over to the sofa. You sit down as he heads into the kitchen.

“How do you take the tea?”

“I like it milky and sweet.” You see him smile as he turns into the fridge. You turn the TV on flicking through the channels till you find something.

You watch him work in the kitchen, spooning sugar into mugs, then water, then milk. He brings the mugs over and you move over making space for him as he sits down next to you. His arm rests round the back of the sofa and he motions for you to lay in his arms. He wants you to lay in his arms, your alpha wants you to lay in his arms. You pull your legs on the sofa and scoot over resting your head against his chest and your arm around his stomach. The show on the TV is familiar, you recognize the people, actors? You can’t tell.

“So what’s this about?” he asks, wrapping his free hand around you while he sips his tea.

“These women all live near each other in these big houses. The blonde haired woman is always upset about something,” you explain, cuddling into him. His arm is warm, you can hear his heartbeat, you can feel each muscle and scar under his shirt.

“John, I like spending time with you,” you say as you find your fingers run across his stomach. He kisses your head again.

“I know, we have all the time in the world.” That’s a lie if you’ve ever heard one. It’s what you need now though, his familiar scent filling your lungs. It’s what you need. It’s making you dizzy. His arm runs down your back then back up to your arm making goosebumps stand up on the back of your neck. You’ve missed him, you’re glad he’s back and safe.

“I’ll be a good omega for you,” you breathe as your body gets tired again. You feel safe, you are safe. You close your eyes.

Simon walks into the lab letting the door slam behind him. He doesn’t care if she knows he’s here or not.

“Welcome back,” she says, watching him walk across the room. He doesn’t say anything as he stops at the table she’s working on. He puts a small crate down on the table. She stands up and clicks it open, running her fingers over the vials then looking up at Simon smiling. He used to like her smile, now he just sees the evil behind it. She takes the vials, turning to put them in a fridge behind her.

“How did it go? Smoothly?” she asks, turning back to look at him.

“Classified,” he grunts.

“Well omega’s been missing you,” she sighs, he can hear the annoyance in it. He huffs, shaking his head. She missed Price, not him.

“We got what you needed, and this,” he says, throwing the USB on the table.

“What’s this?” she asks picking it up.

“Maybe you’ll find something helpful. If not, well.”

“Well what?”

“Thought you might enjoy some memories.” He turns to walk away.

“Memories? What are you talking about?” she says confused.

“You stayed to keep her alive. I saw what it was like for her.” His voice is harsh in the air.

“Simon—”

“No. You kept her alive. You kept her alive to be tortured.” He doesn’t want to talk to her right now. He wants to be with you, and he can’t even do that.

“So what? I should have let her die? Hale would have picked another omega, another subject,” Dr. Piper says.

“So what?” he snaps. “She’s a human being, she’s a person. You let her suffer. You let her suffer and that's on you.” His hand rests on the door handle.

“Simon. I tried so hard for her. I put my life on the line for her.” She steps round the desk towards him. He huffs letting his hand fall from the door handle.

“No more excuses. You made the choice to let her go through it,” he says, turning to face her. Her eyes dilate for a second and she takes a step back. He wants to trust her, but everytime he lets his guard down with her something reminds him of who she is.

“I’m not making excuses,” she says.

“You are, you just don’t realise it.” He opens the door and leaves.

Simon walks through the door into the barracks. He looks at Price on the sofa with you laying up against his chest. You’re asleep breathing steady against him. You’re safe, calm in his arms. He can smell you in the air, always something sweet, strawberries or cherries. He remembers how you looked in the videos, how you looked so helpless. Price told him to destroy the USB, but he already decided he was going to give it to Dr. Montgomery.

“You gave her the formula?” Price asks as Simon closes the door behind him.

“Yeah, she’s working on it,” Simon says, coming over to the sofa. He moves round to the other side, grabbing a blanket and throwing it over you. Price nods at him. Simon knows all about Price’s glances, knows what they mean. He wants to be left alone.

“How is she?” Simon asks, stepping back round the TV.

“She’s fine, missed us,” Price says. Simon can hear the hesitation in his voice. Simon sighs, soaks you in: eyes closed, mouth open slightly, your arm wrapped round Price’s stomach. He wants nothing more than to climb onto the sofa with you both, pry you out of Price’s arms and into his. He knows you haven’t missed him. He just hopes you’re not scared of him.

“You good?” Price asks. Simon doesn’t want to lie to him.

“All good, sir,” Simon replies.

“If you want to talk about it, you know I'm around,” Price says.

“It’s okay Price, I’m good.” Simon’s voice is harsh in the air, his heart pounding in his ears as your scent fills his nose. You’re relaxed, you’re safe. It’s nothing like the videos, it’s nothing like the reports he has seen.

He’s jealous. He wishes you were in his arms. He doesn’t want to be jealous of Price but he can’t help it. There’s an ache there, something he can’t put his finger on. It hurts like a deep pain in his chest, something he hasn’t felt in years. He remembers what Dr. Montgomery said; it’ll get easier once you’re claimed. He wishes it was him doing it instead of John.

He picks his bag up then heads to his room walking past Johnny’s open door, his kit spread all over the floor. Typical, he must be the one in the showers since Gaz’s door is closed. He goes into his room throwing his bag down. He grabs a towel and a change of clothes. He needs to blow off some steam.

Simon walks into the bathroom, his nose filled with the smell of Johnny. It’s a good smell, soapy and fresh. It reminds Simon of a warm summer's day, clean sheets in the breeze. Johnny’s head pokes out from one of the showers.

“Hey LT, come to cop a look?” Johnny winks at him from across the room. Simon rolls his eyes, stripping his clothes off, pulling his mask over his head. He can feel Johnny’s eyes on him. Simon likes when Johnny’s eyes are on him, and he’s not sure why. There’s a new scent in the air, he could faintly smell it when he walked into the building earlier. Vanilla, only this time it's heavy in the room, he makes his way round to the showers. Simon can see Johnny trying and failing to avoid his gaze. Maybe it was just Johnny’s shower gel this whole time.

“See something you like, Sergeant?” Simon asks, turning on the shower. He holds his hand under the water as it starts off cold.

“It’s nice and warm in here, sir,” Johnny says, leaning on the wall between them. There’s the smell of vanilla again, this time it hits Simon fast, right at the back of his nose. He looks over at Johnny with that cheeky grin on his face and before he knows it, he’s turned off his shower.

Johnny’s eyes follow him around as he steps into the cubicle with him. Johnny’s hands immediately run up Simon’s chest, his hands are soft, and his touch is nice. Simon presses closer to Johnny backing him up against the wall. Johnny leans up, planting his lips on Simon as he grips his waist. Simon’s hands run down Johnny’s arms as he forces his tongue into his mouth. Johnny’s touch is familiar, he knows where to touch him, how to kiss him. Simon relaxes into it letting Johnny’s hands run over him. Simon moves one of his hands up to run through Johnny’s hair letting his fingers massage his scalp.

“It’s been a while,” Johnny says between kisses. He was right, it had been a while. Simon had missed Johnny’s touch. Maybe this is what he needed, a true way to relax and destress. Ever since you showed up in their lives everything had just been a mixture of emotions, everything had been moving at a million miles an hour. Simon could use a break, and Johnny always knows how to make Simon feel good.

Johnny’s mouth moves to his neck, he grips Simon’s cock, thrusting his hands down his shaft pressing his thumb on the underside the way Simon likes it. Johnny looks back up at him smiling before he plants another kiss on his lips. Johnny shuffles his body like he’s about to get on his knees, but Simon grips his arms instead. Johnny looks at him confused, tipping his head to the side.

“We’re skipping the foreplay,” Simon says in a low voice that sends shivers up Johnny’s spine. There’s the cheeky grin again. Simon doesn’t change his expression, leaning down to kiss him before spinning him around. Johnny doesn’t need to be asked twice bracing himself on the short shower wall. This was definitely what Simon needed, he grips Johnny’s ass parting his cheeks digging his fingers into his skin.

It doesn’t take long for Johnny to relax too, the air being filled with the smell of something musky Simon can’t quite put his finger on. Even though the act is familiar, the sensations and the smells are new. That heavy scent of vanilla that’s making Simon’s head spin, the smell of beta filling the air and the other scent Simon can’t place.

Johnny lets out the most beautiful moan Simon has ever heard as he eases himself into him. One of Simon’s hands reaches around to find Johnny’s cock. He pushes Johnny’s hand out the way, replacing it with his.

“Christ Si, desperate?” Johnny moans as Simon starts to thrust into him. Simon brings his free hand up to cover Johnny’s mouth.

“Quiet MacTavish, unless you want Price and the omega to know whats going on.” He gestures towards the wall. Johnny nods and Simon releases his hand from around Johnny’s mouth. Johnny keeps quiet but doesn’t relent with the snarky comments. Simon’s almost not paying attention, letting Johnny run his mouth, enjoying hearing his voice and letting himself get lost in the pleasure. His senses feel heightened, he can tell Johnny feels it too, Johnny’s panting becoming faster as Simon wraps his arm round his stomach hitching him up so he’s bouncing down onto him.

The smell of alpha is strong in the air and it only gets stronger the closer Simon gets to cumming, it makes the hairs stand up on the back of Johnny’s neck, his moans becoming more like whimpers as he gives into the scent. It’s intoxicating. Simon isn’t thinking when he cums, his hand pumping his fist on Johnny’s cock, letting Johnny get as loud as he wants as he thrusts into Simon’s hand. The smell of beta and vanilla fills the air. Johnny goes limp in Simon’s arms and he holds him against the wall.

Simon’s head is spinning, his body tingling, he’s never felt pleasure like this before, Johnny's arms are slumped over the short wall as he pants, Simon’s hand still holding his spent cock. Simon rubs his thumb over the tip causing Johnny’s whole body to twitch and shudder up against him. Simon slowly moves Johnny back under the warm water holding him up against his chest.

“Fecking incredible sir.” Simon can’t help smiling as he lets go of Johnny letting him stand by himself.

“Not too bad yourself Johnny,” Simon says, slapping Johnny's ass as he leaves the cubicle, going into the one next to him. This time he lets the cold water hit his skin, and his mind turns to you, the smell of strawberries fills his nose. He tries to shake it away, but it’s not long before the pit forms again in his chest like there’s something missing. Simon looks over at Johnny.

He’s finishing up, turning the shower off to leave. It’s not the same anymore, the burning pain of needing an omega is too strong. He wanted Johnny but he needs you. He closes his eyes, turning up the heat on the water. He lets it burn his shoulders as he hears the door to the room open and close.

He’s alone now but he doesn’t want to be. He wishes it was you in the shower with him today, not Johnny. He can’t keep doing this, he has to get over you, for the team's sake. You’re Price’s omega not his, and until there is a cure it has to be that way. Frustration builds in him as he goes to leave the shower, drying his body and pulling on the fresh change of clothes.

He has to break this up. There's no other way to do it. He picks his mask up, rubbing his thumb over the fabric before pulling it on. Simon can feel whatever he wants for the omega, but Ghost can’t care. It’s just a job, you're just a job, the job is to find a cure and leave this world behind. He picks up his towel leaving the steaming bathroom.

He looks over at the sofa. Price is asleep now, his head tipped back snoring softly. You’re still asleep against his chest, the blanket pulled all the way up to your face. Ghost sighs reluctantly. He can’t let Price sleep on the sofa all night, he’ll fuck his back up. He walks over and shakes Price’s shoulder, it doesn’t take much for him to jump awake.

“You should go to bed,” he says once Price meets his eyeline. Price looks down at you still sleeping. He moves like he doesn’t want to wake you. Ghost sighs, he turns to walk away. He did his job and woke Price up. He hears Price waking you up as he goes back into his room. He moves fast, closing the door behind him and leaning up against it. He smells the unmistakable scent of strawberries as you pass his room. He closes his eyes, breathing it in. He smiles as your scent fills his nose. That’s it, that's the last time he’ll do that. From now on, for everyone's sake, you’re a stranger to him.

Next Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui Thank you as aways to rememberwren who told me my work was good when my brain was telling me it was shit <3

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colormepurplex2 · 8 months

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Now I'm Yours | JJK

🤍Alpha!Jungkook x Omega!f.Reader 🤍A/B/O, Established Relationship/Mates | angst, smut, fluff 🤍WC: 14,064 🤍Rating: MA 🤍Summary: Jungkook is terrible at feelings. He’s possessive, reckless, and most definitely an Alphahole; you were once his sworn enemy for a reason. But, after he claimed you as his mate during your designation celebration, how do you even begin to navigate the dark waters of such a precarious relationship? Especially when there is darkness creeping over the horizon, threatening to blanket your world in permanent shadow. ⚠️ Vulgar language, semi-hate sex, fingering, knotting, creampie, discussion of violent acts, drinking, fighting/physical altercation, alpha challenge, knife violence/attack, blood, injury, bond sex, dick licking/oral, slick eating, biting/marking, blood/wound licking, surprise pregnancy Each chapter will have specific warnings listed.

Read Make You Mine, the first installment of the series, here!

Chapter 1. Distance Makes The Heart Grow Fonder

Chapter 2. Feel It In Your Soul

This story is complete.

A/N: This story is part of the "New Year, New Me Love" @bangtanwritershq gift exchange, written for the wonderful @hisunshiine! And as always, a special thank you to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for being A+ betas!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️ 2024-02 ColorMePurplex2

#bts #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #bts angst #bts smut #bts non idol au #bts abo #jungkook abo #alpha jungkook #omega reader #abo smut #bts knotting #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts enemies to lovers #alpha jungkook x omega reader #jungkook smut #bangtanwhq #btscreaturescoven

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a-case-of-attachment · 8 months

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The Lamb & The Serpent

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Lucifer Morningstar x sinner fem!reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Lucifer being a chaotic mess, mentions of sex, swearing, slow burn, mentions of depression, Charlie being the best supportive daughter, awkwardness, mentioned of death and violence, ducks of the rubber kind, Lucifer being awkward, fluff.

Please click -> here <- to read on AO3

The day Lucifer manages to fuck up a perfectly good friendship by realising he wants more from you is the day he walks in on you and Angel Dust watching his latest porn video like it’s a documentary and not a three way that looks more painful then pleasurable.

It’s the middle of the day, the two of you down in the parlour, spread over the largest couch and acting like it’s no big deal to be watching a friend get split open by an aggressively large rhino looking man and an equally intimidating elephant guy whose trunk isn’t the only big thing he’s packing. Though to the little porn star it probably isn’t anything all that unusual and by the way he’s going on, talking about camera angles and lighting you would think it was some kind art piece. Anyway, it’s not the porn that has Lucifer questioning his life, though that stirs something at the back of his mind that he will circle back round to latter. Much latter. When he’s alone. Preferably in his bedroom. No what Lucifer realises is that he wants to be where Angel Dust is.

The lanky demon was stretched across the sofa, his bare feet in your lap so you could slowly rub your thumbs into his soles as you both spoke about the film like it wasn’t a crass tasteless violation of the man. It looked so domestic, peaceful and Lucifer wanted that to be you and him with a desperation he hadn’t felt in centuries. Though maybe with his head in your lap instead of his feet, your fingers carding softly through his hair as the two of you just exist together in the same shared space. Oh, he could almost feel it, the ghost of a feeling that he hadn’t had in so long.

It was round about then, as Lucifer was just about to get lost in his little fantasy that Angel noticed he was there, eyes going wide momentarily before a suggestive smile spread across his face. He had made a rather unwanted comment about Lucifer not needing to “hide all the way back there handsome, there’s plenty of room for you to slide right in. Or maybe you want a private show? I could go for a little quality time with daddy.” Lucifer wasn’t. Interested that is. Well not in Angel Dust anyway. “Noooo. No, no, no. Non. Nein. Nee. Just no,” Lucifer had repeated himself several times, just to make sure he got his point across and pointedly ignoring Angel’s rather dramatic gasp and nonsense answer of Lucifer having broken his heart.

Whilst Lucifer and Angel had been talking you had turned to look over at him, clearly surprised by his presence but it quickly softened into something fonder, something that had Lucifers insides twisting like he was full of snakes. Had that always been the way and he just hadn’t noticed? Lucifer had liked having your attention in him for quite some time, but it was hard to tell if that was because he just liked knowing you were actually focused on what he was doing or because he got a little buzz of possessive satisfaction, knowing that he was the only thing you were focused on. Either way Lucifer didn’t dislike having your eyes on him and he would be quite happy to be the only person who held your attention in such a way.

You welcomed him the same way you always did, tipping your head forward slightly and addressing him as “my King.” Not your majesty, or Sir or Sire but as if he was your own personal monarch and oh boy, wasn’t that just something. He really liked the idea of being yours. Your anything but especially your king, your ruler, just yours in general really. Lucifer could feel his cheeks getting hotter as the realisation sank in, his grip tightening on his staff as he fought of the urge to shiver under your gaze. Oh, this was bad, so very, very bad.

You pulled him out of his little panic by asking if he was there to see Charlie. The simple answer to that innocent question was no. Lucifer was at the hotel with the sole purpose of seeing you and hopefully convincing you to abandon whatever you had planned and help him with his ever-growing rubber duckie horde. A rather lame excuse if he had ever heard one but he was running out of legitimate reasons to get you to spend time with him more often than you usually did. He couldn’t tell you that though, so he eagerly jumped on the excuse, excitedly talking about wanting to “spend some quality daddy daughter time with my little Char Char,” and cringing when he remembered what the little spider had just said to him. It sounded off even to him, his forced cheer falling flat at the end and trailing off into an awkward laugh. You didn’t seem to notice his obvious discomfort though, smiling softly at him as you informed him that “Charlie and Vaggie are out at the moment, said something about meeting with Carmilla to discuss angel defences. They didn’t say when they would be back.” Lucifer felt his heart drop, his rather rubbish excuse at being at the hotel now completely useless thanks to his poor planning.

He was just about to make his excuses and go back to his ducks when you said the best thing, he had heard all day and asked him “do you want to stay? Angel gets a little too into his performances (hey!), and I would like the distraction when he really starts getting descriptive.” Lucifer jumped at the chance, blurting out a loud and eager yes before you had even finished talking. Both you and Angel startled at his outburst and Lucifer cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure as he told you that he “suppose I could help, though its going to cost you little lamb. Those little duckies aren’t going to count themselves.” He hadn’t expected you to agree but you had sticking out your hand for Lucifer to shake as you claimed it a deal. An innocent statement on your part but left Lucifer feeling taken aback by how easily you had agreed, then again you did like his duck collection, so it probably wasn’t that much of a sacrifice on your part.

You don’t stop smiling as you push Angel's feet off your lap, the man groaning and rolling his eyes as he moves to slump in the corner, giving you enough room to move up and leave a spot for Lucifer at the end. He feels incredibly stiff and a little awkward as he sinks into the space, sitting ramrod straight with his hands on his knees. He doesn’t know what to do, has never just casually hung out like this with people that weren’t you and he’s not sure if he’s supposed to be watching Angel Dust’s performance or if he would have been better off just making some sort of excuse and going back home to wallow in his awkward patheticness. You shift next to him, curling your legs up under yourself and leaning it towards him. Your breath is warm against his ear when you speak, sending a shiver down his spine and causing his cheeks to heat again. All you said to him was that you were “glad you decided to stick around,” before turning your attention back to the tv and starting up a conversation with Angel once more but it was enough to have Lucifer relaxing, his strained smile slipping into something softer and more genuine.

Lucifer was still there when Charlie and Vaggie came back, except somewhere along the way he had ended up getting involved with yours and Angel’s conversation. He wasn’t quite sure how it had happened, but Lucifer had found himself deep in conversation with Angel about the importance of foreplay and how “Valentino always skips it! It’s like he doesn’t understand how to please someone. It adds to the experience, gets everyone involved really going and trust me it makes the main event that much more pleasurable. That idiot just skips to the end like he’s going to blow within five seconds of getting anything on his dick. Oh! Hey Charlie, err, how much of that did you eh hear?” It wasn’t the ideal thing he wanted his daughter to hear him talking about, but he was surprisingly having fun. Plus, he had gotten to see you blush like a maiden when he had first mentioned about the benefits of having such a flexible tongue so he couldn’t say he regretted being part of it.

Charlie had been rather embarrassed about the subject of choice, even more so when Angle piped up and informed her that he was “learning all sorts of fun things Charlie. Like did you know that most women can’t get off just from getting a good dicking, they need murph!” Lucifer had been quick to put a stop to the conversation, shoving a pillow over the other mans face and shoving him off the couch. Ignoring yours and Angels giggling Lucifer had quickly strode round the couch and towards his daughter, grabbing his abandoned hat and cane as he went. He successfully managed to distract Charlie by asking “how was your day sweetie? I heard you went to see Carmilla Carmine, that must have been fun. Tell me about it.” Charlie had started talking almost instantly and Lucifer waisted no time in gently turning her around and ushering her away from the other two and the porn that was still playing quietly on the tv.

Lucifer was listening to Charlie, hanging on every word and taking in as much information as he could because he wanted to know everything about his daughter but then he had caught movement out the corner of his eye and all his attention had snapped back to you. You were leaving, laughing at something Angel was saying as he draped himself dramatically across the back of the couch. You spotted Lucifer staring almost instantly, offering him a bright smile as you waved, calling out about how “lovely to see you my King,” before disappearing up the stairs towards the bedrooms. Lucifer waved back sadly, his eyes following you until you disappeared from sight. The world felt that little bit dimmer as soon as you were gone Lucifer already missing your bright smile and cheerful disposition. Whilst his attention was on you, he didn’t notice the knowing look Charlie and Vaggie shared, or the way Angel Dust rolled his eyes and collapsed back onto the couch with a huff.

The weeks after that were weird to say the least. Lucifer didn’t know what to do with his newly realised feeling or the guilt he felt about moving on from Lilith when it had barely been a handful of years since she had left. He was a bit of a wreck actually, spending far too much time with his rubber ducks and complaining about how hard feelings were to deal with. It didn’t help matters that Charlie was finding every excuse she could to push you and him together. Anything from getting him to help you with things around the hotel, to sending you to pick up bits from his home that Charlie hadn’t shown an interest in for decades.

You were always a good sport about it when the two of you found yourselves forced together again, laughing and making jokes about it and Lucifer did join in but it was strained as he panicked about how he was supposed to act around you now that he knew that this friendship between the two of you wasn’t enough. It was confusing and complicated, not helped by the fact he had no idea how you felt about him. Lucifer knew you liked him, at least as a friend but that was very different to liking him enough to let him smother you in kisses and worship at your feet.

He had been out of the dating game for so long now, well actually he had never really been in it considering he had fallen for and married the first woman he had come across. He had zero experience with this kind of thing, and he highly doubted offering you an apple was going to do anything apart from make sure you were being fed. As much as it pained him to admit he needed help with this and there was only one person he felt comfortable enough with to even bother asking about this kind of stuff.

Charlie was over the moon when he had finally managed to drag her away from the hotel and gotten out what his problem was. Lucifer could admit to himself that he had been worried about how she would react, fearful that she would think he was betraying Lilith, but Charlie had amazed him once again because she had been “so happy for you dad. I was, well after mum leaving you kinda closed yourself from everyone and I worried that you would you know, end up all alone. But not now! I mean look at you, going outside and talking to people. That’s amazing progress dad.” That had broken his heart a little, knowing that Charlie had been so worried about him ending up alone. Lucifer had done the only thing he could think of in the moment, pulling Charlie into his arms for a hug whilst thanking her for looking out for him and reassuring her that as long as he had her, he would never be alone.

Charlie had laughed it off, brushing away her tears as she insisted that she wasn’t going anywhere. That had gotten Lucifer welling up, happiness welling up inside his chest until it felt like it was going to burst. He had been so worried that he had messed it all up with Charlie, convinced that no matter what he did it was never going to be enough to make up for the distance that had existed between them nearly her entire life but hearing her say that had been, well it was the best thing he had heard since Lilith had told him she was pregnant. It had been a rather emotional moment for the both of them, but it had brought them closer together. The gap between them that much smaller.

The rest of his visit had been spent with Charlie coming up with a plan on how to win you over, convinced that Lucifer stood a real chance at taking possession of your heart. Lucifer wasn’t so sure though. Sure, he could be confident and charming but that came from being king and so much more powerful than everyone else stuck in the infernal blaze. He hadn’t needed to woo someone before. Lilith had just wanted someone to treat her like an equal and respect her whilst Eve had wanted to be free of her chains. It wasn’t like there had been any kind of competition either, Adam such a shitty husband that it had been easy to tempt his wives away from him. Though he had filled the earlier years of his and Lilith’s relationship with romantic gestures that had been very different to what humans now considered to be suitable displays of affection and he doubted you would be won over so easily with a horde of imp minions like Lilith had been.

Charlie had so many grand plans, Lucifer franticly taking notes on things such as simple gestures like holding doors open or offering you an arm to hold as the two of you walked down the street all the way to those grand gestures like breakfast in bed and lavish gifts like diamonds and expensive perfumes. It was a lot and that didn’t even include all the date ideas she was throwing at him, Charlie already planning a romantic picnic on the hotel roof like it was a sure thing you would say yes when he asked you out. Lucifer had to put a stop to her grand schemes then, insisting that maybe it was too soon to be planning dates when he hadn’t even asked you out yet. Reluctantly she had agreed and instead they had circled back round to the little things, the simple gestures he could do to test the water before moving on to bigger and more obvious ones. By the time he left Lucifer had somewhat of a plan on how to win your heart and if there was a slight skip in his step then there was no one around to see it.

Over the next few days Lucifer had started to implement his plan, starting with complimenting your outfit and making sure he opened every single door you went through if he was there. You gave him a few weird looks, but you never told him to stop so he considered it a win. On top of that he started to text you more, just little things about his day that he hoped would make you smile. He even phoned you a couple of times just to hear your voice. Though that had been a bit awkward. Lucifer wasn’t the best at holding conversations on the phone and the first time he had called you there had been a lot of lulls in the conversation, but you had still picked up the second time he called you, seemingly already prepared with conversation points that drew him in and had the conversation flowing easily in minutes.

When you didn’t seem to dislike the attention, Lucifer had moved onto the next part of that plan, eggier and nervous all at once because he was about to get bolder and more obvious about how he felt.

The most important part was to be more tactile with you. A brush of a hand here, a touch on the back there, maybe even brushing a stand of hair out of your face and sitting close enough together that he could press his leg against yours. In theory that was all fine, more than doable really, but the problem was that Lucifer hadn’t really touched anyone single Lilith and especially not in a way that was supposed to suggest something a little more intimate was wanted. Lucifer was touched starved, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to stop once her got to feel how soft and warm you are under his hands. Sure, he was excited for this part but that didn’t change the fact he was oh so nervous about it to.

What if you hated it? What if the very first time he tried to touch you, you told him get off and get away from you only to never speak to him again. It was a real worry, one that had him tugging at his hat and pulling his face as he shared that worry with Charlie, crying and whining about how “she’s going to hate me Charlie, I know it. As soon as I get a finger on her let alone a hand, she going to tell me to get lost and never want to speak to me again.” Charlie doesn’t say anything until his panicked and overly dramatic rant was over with, letting him get it all out even though some of the things he said were quite ridiculous. Once he was done though she had taken his hands in hers, offering a soft and reassuring smile whilst telling him that it was a “chance you’re going to have to take if you want to be with her dad. I don’t think she will turn you down, especially considering how much she’s been talking about you but there is always the possibility that your feeling might not be returned. Its something everyone has to consider when asking someone out but dad, of your serious about Y/N then it’s a risk you need to be willing to take and if not, well. At least things haven’t gone far enough that you can’t still be friends.” He’s stunned by her incite, her maturity. His little girl had grown up so quickly and was now a bright young woman capable of doing anything she put her mind to. Lucifer truly was proud of her and everything she had accomplished and didn’t hesitate to tell her whilst thanking her for being so open and honest with him.

His conversation with Charlie had left Lucifer with a lot to think about. His pride meant he didn’t handle rejection well and he knew that if you turned his advances down that there would be a period of time where his depression took over and he went back to making more silly little ducks then he knew what to do with. It would hurt to lose you because he really didn’t think he would be able to be around you afterwords without being rude or petty and he really didn’t want to be the reason you got hurt or upset. Maybe it would be better if he squashed down his feelings and just counted himself lucky to have you as a friend because he didn’t have hardly any of them, not real ones he could trust and be honest with. Asmodeus maybe, he could keep a secret and wasn’t all about the fucking like people assumed but it had been a while since Lucifer had spoken to him and well, he had never felt as close to him as he did you. The point was Lucifer didn’t want to lose you and if there was even a small chance that him carrying on with his courtship would result in that then wouldn’t he just be better off staying friends and being sure in the fact that he wouldn’t drive you away.

The whole thing leaves him distracted and confused, Lucifer often getting lost in his thoughts when there were more important things he should be concentrating on. He doesn’t notice the concerned looks you and Charlie give him, or the hushed conversations as you glance nervously at him. He just doesn’t know what to do and he hates it, hates the fact that he feels so out of his depth when he had been so sure where he stood with you before all this romance rubbish had started. In the end though Lucifer doesn’t have to make the decision himself because you decide for him, and he couldn’t be happier.

In an attempt to foster some sort of camaraderie between the hotel’s guests Charlie had implemented a monthly movie night where they each took turns to pick a movie they enjoyed in the hopes that it would get them all talking. Lucifer had accidentally become a part of that, Charlie having inverted him to join months ago in an attempt to spend more time together and get him out the house and Lucifer had just kind of carried on turning up, often sitting between you and his daughter and often needing one of you to explain what was going on because he had lost the plot after the first couple of minutes. Neither of you seemed to mind, even though you all knew that sometimes he did it on purpose, liking to hear your creative descriptions of what you were watching.

This was a regularly scheduled event in his diary, so Lucifer hadn’t really though about not going until he found himself sat in the middle of the sofa, Charlie and Vaggie curled up together on one side and an very obvious space for you on his other side. He sat ramrod straight, hands clutching at his knees as he tried to come up with a plausible reason as to why you shouldn’t be sitting next to him. His mind came up blank though and before he knew it you were dropping down next to him with a sigh. You didn’t speak to him as you got yourself comfortable and Lucifer couldn’t even bring himself to look at you let alone talk to you. It felt weird, so different to how it had been, and he couldn’t help but wonder if this was how things were going to be between you now, the same yet not.

Lucifer completely missed the first half of the film, eyes fixed on the screen yet not actually seeing it. He was just waiting for it to end and the chance to get away from this weirdness. He didn’t notice yours and Charlie’s silent yet rather animated conversation behind him, or the others looking at him like he was some new kind of crazy. He didn’t notice your loud sigh as you slumped down next to him, or the unsure looks you kept shooting him that slowly turned into determination. What he did notice though was your arm looping through his, your hand curling around his arm as you shifted closer to him.

Lucifer was surprised his neck didn’t snap from how quickly it snapped to the side, eyes wide and mouth hanging open as he looked down at you with shock and bewilderment. You were nibbling at your bottom lip, ears turned down slightly and eyes fixed on Lucifers knee, looking very much like the innocent little lamb he often teased you about being. On the screen something exploded, the flash of light illuminating your eyes as you finally looked at him. Lucifer was captivated, trapped in their glow and oh how much he had missed this, having all your attention on him like he was the centre of your universe. You never took your eyes off him as you moved in close, leaning in so he would hear over the tv when you whispered, “is this ok?” Lucifer had barely managed to get out a yes around the lump of excitement that seemed to have formed in his throat.

The smile you gave him was blinding but no where near as amazing of the felling of you leaning into him, your head resting on his shoulder as you turned your attention back to the tv. Lucifer continued to watch for a while, mesmerised by your ever-present smile and the way your eyes light up with the light from the tv. All his worries and fears about allowing himself this vanished the moment you had touched him because this felt right, like everything just clicked into place. And to think he almost missed out on this. With his own content sigh and smile Lucifer relaxed into it, one hand resting on your bent knee whilst he raised the other to cover your one that was curled abound his bicep. He let his head tip slightly, resting it against the top of yours and just enjoyed the closeness. He didn’t notice Charlie squealing behind him or Angel Dusts eye roll and mumbled “about damned time.” Lucifer was lost in his own little bubble of contentment and nothing short of an angel attack was going to change that.

From then onwards Lucifer was an unstoppable force of wooing. He had no problem invading your personal space after that, nor did he mind getting his hands on you though he had been right, once he was allowed to touch Lucifer found it very hard not to and not to mention how all this innocent skin on skin contact was making him think about all the other less innocent touches he could be bestowing upon you. That had led to a few embarrassing moments where he had needed to excuse himself rather quickly to avoid you noticing what was happening. It also resulted in some rather pleasant dreams that he was always reluctant to wake from, knowing he would be left feeling disappointed and guilty when he finally opened his eyes.

Complements came thick and fast as did the gifts though he had to admit he might have gone a bit overboard with some things. Like filling the entire hotel with white roses that smelt like freshly made popcorn or making every kind of food he could think of appear when you said you were hungry. In his excitement he might have forgotten about plates and Vaggie really hadn’t been too happy about the stack of pancakes that had ended up on top of her head. Though you had found it funny, using your fingers to scoop up some of the ice cream that was dripping down his face before licking it off your fingers. Lucifer had never really understood food porn before but that right here was enough to convert him.

Other things had gone over better. Like a bottle of perfume that smelt like freshly cut grass, a crystal ball that swirled with the colours and patterns of a universe and your own personal rubber duck that Lucifer had spent weeks experimenting with so it would act like an actual duck, though he might have gotten it a little wrong because it had a few dog qualities that he hadn’t quite been able to get out. But hey, you had loved it, so Lucifer considered it a win, even if the thing growled at people every now and again. The first time he had seen you with the silly little thing perched on your head he had nearly combusted with how cute you had looked. He had taken what felt like thousands of photos, following you around the hotel and telling anyone and everyone you passed how adorable you were only to snap more photos as you blushed at his compliments. He would have been happy to continue just showering you with gifts and compliments, happy that he was making you happy, but it wasn’t quite enough. Lucifer wanted more and he wasn’t going to get that with expensive gifts and sugar sweet words.

When he had been with Lilith, they had gone on the grand total of three dates and considering one of them was when she was still in the garden Lucifer didn’t really count it as an actual date because all they had done was sit next to a secluded lake and talk. It had been nice, real nice actually and from that one little date their relationship had blossomed and grown into something Lucifer would cherish for all eternity. It’s not exactly up to par with modern standards though and Lucifer really didn’t want to rehash his old material. It wouldn’t be fare to Lilith and it sure as hell wouldn’t be fare to you. You weren’t a replacement for his ex-wife and Lucifer really didn’t want you to ever think that was what this thing between the two of you was. So, he needed new material, something that was uniquely suited to you and guaranteed that you would say yes when Lucifer asked you to be his.

The other rings were out considering you were a mortal sinner and couldn’t leave the pride ring. A shame really because they really did have some amazing restaurants and bars down in gluttony that he thought you might have enjoyed. It would have been nice to take you to Lu Lu Land, Lucifer able to show off his most successful creation, well second most successful next to Charlie. But just like gluttony that was out of the question. That left him with the rather nauseating thought of doing something in Pentagram city and that was a solid pass on his part because the city was a huge disgusting dumpster fire of nope full of psychopathic freaks that Lucifer would rather not have to deal with when he was trying to be all romantic and suave.

It left him with a rather stressful dilemma, Lucifer locking himself away in his workshop as he tried and failed to come up with anything he thought was worthy of your time. It had him pulling at his hair and throwing his ducks around in frustration. This shouldn’t be this hard, mortals did it all the time and yet he couldn’t come up with anything better than afternoon tea in Cannibal Town because despite the fact it was full of flesh hungry sinners it was still the nicest part of this trashy city, he just didn’t think you would be a fan of being given finger sandwiches made from actual fingers. Groaning he had slumped forward, banging his head on his desk and mumbling about how he was “stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course she wouldn’t want to eat people, that’s gross and weird. Come on Luci, think, think, think.” With a headache forming and the sense of pathetic failure growing, Lucifer was saved in the form of a text from Charlie, asking for his help at the hotel. It was like a switch being flipped, the conversation he had with his daughter all those weeks ago coming back to him in full clarity. It was perfect, a plan already starting to form in his mind, and it was with a maniacal laugh that Lucifer snatched up his phone and called Charlie, roping her into his plans.

It was a lot easier from then on, Lucifer knowing exactly what he wanted to make it perfect for you. Charlie was more than happy to help, even getting the other residents of the hotel to keep you busy so you wouldn’t notice what was going on. You weren’t stupid though and Lucifer knew that you had suspicions, especially when everyone was being a bit too obvious about keeping you away from him whenever you caught a glimpse of him around the hotel. It was worth it though, Lucifer proud of what he had managed to accomplish. All that was left now was to get you up there and woo the socks off you.

Everyone played their part, pretending that Angel Dusts little piggy had run off and organising a search party to find it before that no-good Radio demon eat it. You were given the upper floors to search, including the roof and all Lucifer needed to do was wait patiently for you to find him and his surprise. Patiently lasted all of five minutes though and as the seconds ticked by he began nervously bouncing on the balls of his feet before giving in and pacing around the small space, muttering to himself the whole time about how it was taking you “so long. It’s just three floors you should be done by now. Maybe he should go and find you, speed things up a little. No, no, no. The whole point is you’re supposed to be up here to surprise her Luci. What if you go down and she gets here before you find her and ruins the whole thing. Fuuuck. What to do. What to do.” Just as he’s about to start pulling his hair out Lucifer hears it, the loud groan of the roof access stairs being pulled down. He quickly scrambles to get in position, fixing his hair and grabbing up the bouquet of red and white roses that fallen to the floor as his distress grew. He had taken off his jacket and hat, stashing them away along with his cain to go for a more casual look, a wide smirk plastered across his face as he tried not to bounce excitedly.

He heard you before he saw you, your mumbled complaints carrying up as you flung open the access hatch. You weren’t looking his way when you climbed out onto the roof, still muttering under your breath as you brushed dust and dirt off your clothes. Lucifer remained silent though, holding his breath as he waited for you to turn around and look his way. When you finally turned to him you gasped, hand flying up to cover your mouth as you stumbled back slightly. Lucifer laughed nervously, thrusting out the bouquet of flowers toward you and awkwardly greeting you with a “hey you.” You regained your composure quickly, smiling softly as you made your way over to him and tacking the flowers with a quick thank you. Lucifer stood there for a long few moments, his brain having come to a sudden hault as he watched you lift the bouquet up to smell the flowers. They weren’t real roses; you didn’t get flowers like that down here, but Lucifer had done his best to recreate them though he couldn’t really remember how they smelled so he had made the white one's smell like freshly made popcorn and the red ones like candy floss. You didn’t seem to mind, humming appreciatively as you stared back at him.

You had pulled Lucifer out of his little daze by leaning to the side to look at the scene behind him, asking if “that’s what you’ve been up to all day?” Eager to show you what he had done Lucifer nodded, enthusiastically taking your hand and pulling you along with him. There was a large blanket on the floor, practically surround by a mountain of cushions and other blankets. There were more flowers, big vases of the roses with candy apples and fern leaves dotted throughout, with candelabras strategically places around the edges of the blanket to give the area a warm glow. He had champagne on ice, two glasses waiting nearby and several platters of food that could be easily picked up with their fingers.

You gently placed the flowers you had been holding on the floor before sinking down onto the cushions, Lucifer following close behind and sitting close enough to you that your legs touched. Glasses of champagne were poured, food offered and the two of you slipped into easy conversation. It was surprisingly intimate, the sounds of the city nothing but a dull murmur in the background. From their advantage point they could see almost all of pentagram city, all the way from Imp City to Cannibal Town. Though all of Hell was his to rule this was Lucifers domaine and though it was quite literally on fire in some places he still wanted to show off how much power he had though knowing he was the King of Hell had never seemed to mean all that much to you.

As the evening went on and the champagne slowly disappeared the two of you got closer until Lucifer was leaning back against the cushions with you tucked up against his side, an arm draped over your shoulder as the two of you sat in silence and looked out across the city. It was comfortable, Lucifer felt comfortable, like himself for once but he knew he had to break the peaceful little bubble the two of you were in because he had a rather important question he needed to ask and if he didn’t ask it now, well, he wasn’t sure if he ever would.

Lucifer put his mostly empty glass down before nervously clearing his through. That caught your attention and had you turning to look at him before he was ready. Whatever you saw on his face had you frowning, placing down your own glass so you could turn more fully to look at him. Lucifer could tell you were about to say something, but he couldn’t afford to lose his nerve, so he held up a hand to stop you, telling you that he “need to err ask you something?” So, what if it came out more like a question, at least he had managed to get it out. Your eyes widened slightly, ears twitching up and mouth forming an ‘o’. With a reassuring smile you took his hand in yours, nodding encouragingly and waiting for him to continue.

Swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat, Lucifer glanced off to the side, tugging at the suddenly tight collar of his shirt. He felt your hold on his hand tightening, his eyes darting back to you and that look of reassurance and excitement that gleamed in your eyes. It was enough to calm his nerves and he placed his other hand over the tops of yours, taking a deep breath before asking that one little question that was sure to change his life regardless of the answer you gave. “Would you, like to date, me?”

Your smile widened, stretching at your cheeks and looking almost painful. Freeing one of your hands from his you placed it on his cheek, thumb rubbing gently across it. Your voice is so soft but full of certainty and something Lucifer didn’t want to say was love, not yet anyway. It was a simple “yes Lucifer,” but it had his heart soaring like he was flying high above the city. Lucifer couldn’t help but laugh, flinging himself forward and wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. He was so happy, couldn’t quite believe that you had said yes but still unapologetically happy that you had. You laughed with him, wiggling in his hold until you got your arms free, looping them around his neck. Lucifers grip tightened around your waist, pulling you in just that little bit closer. It meant that he had to tip his head back slightly to look you in the eyes but that wasn’t a hardship, especially not when you leant down, eyes darting to his lips then back up to his eyes. It was a silent question, one Lucifer answered by tipping his head back more, his eye closing and holding his breath as he waited for you to bridge the gap.

Your lips were soft against his, just a gentle brush against his as if you were testing it out. Lucifer dug his fingers into the fabric of your dress, a content sigh passing from his lips to yours. That seemed to be the only permission you need because in the next second your lips were firmer, slow and confident as you traded one kiss after another. It was everything Lucifer had hoped it would be, as sweet as candy apples and just as addictive.

So lost in one another neither of you noticed that the access hatch was slightly open, or the two sets of eyes looking out from the darkness. You didn’t hear the muffled cheers or the even more muffled complaint about how “disgustingly lovey dovey those weirdos are going to be now? I guarantee ya, every five seconds they’re gonna be making cow eyes at each other and professing their love. I already feel sick just thinkin’ about…Ow! Watch the goods toots.” You didn’t see the rather annoyed radio demon down below twiddling his mic in his hands or Charlie sticking her head out of a window and gesturing upwards franticly. You didn’t hear him huff and roll his eyes or him waving his mic around until colourful explosions of light filled the sky behind you. The two of you were completely oblivious to the world around you, lost in the moment.

Neither of you had thought this was how things would end up the first time you had met and though you were both aware that things wouldn’t be as easy as they seemed right now you were willing to take the risk. Sure, there would be ups and downs, things that would need addressing like Lilith and the wedding ring Lucifer still wore and the fact that you were a sinner, bound to the pride ring. There was the hotel and heaven to consider, not to mention all the threats from within hell. Those were all things to worry about latter though because for now, with you in his arms and his relationship with Charlie so much better than it had been Lucifer was happy and nothing could take that away from him.

At least for now.

@lxkeee

#hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel x fem reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin charlie #lucifer magne #lucifer magne x fem!reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x fem!reader #lucifer x fem!reader #lucifer x female reader #lucifer x reader #reader insert #fem!reader

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skateboardtotheheart · 28 days

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netflix is the worst and i am greatly upset and i know that you all are too, so have this cute little thing i wrote a while back and finished this morning to help cheer you up

just a sweet little moment between the boys while their not on a case <3

crossposted to ao3 here

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For the Rest of Our Afterlives

When Edwin turned to look at Charles, the other was already looking at him, a smile playing on his lips.

Edwin furrowed his brow.

"What?" he questioned, shifting in his desk chair, sitting up a little straighter. But Charles just smiled wider in response, scooching from his usual spot on the edge of the desk so he was closer to Edwin.

Edwin swallowed as Charles leaned in, that ridiculous, gorgeous smile getting closer to him. Edwin bit his lip, trying to hide his own smile that was growing to match.

"Stop that," he mumbled.

Charles had one hand resting on the opposite side of the desk from where he was sitting, supporting himself as he was now leaned so far into Edwin's space their faces were only inches apart. Charles only raised an expectant eyebrow in response to Edwin's weak, non-committal protest, fully aware of the way Edwin so easily melted under that gaze of his. Fully aware of how convincing his smile truly was.

"I cannot stand you," Edwin claimed, even as he leaned in as well, letting his smile show. Charles let out a laugh, and the last thing Edwin saw was Charles smug look before he gave in, closing his eyes as he pressed their lips together. He could feel the way Charles was smiling against his mouth, struggling to maintain the kiss. Still, as it always was, it was perfect to Edwin.

"Can't stand me, then?" Charles teased when they separated again, using his free hand to brush some strands of hair off Edwin's forehead.

When the two of them pulled apart, Charles smug look had been replaced with something so much softer, fonder. It was a look Edwin knew would have had his heart beating out of his chest were he still alive. One he still couldn't quite believe was directed at him- couldn't believe that Charles was giving him. Yet here they were, sat in the office of their detective agency, and Charles Rowland, his dearest friend and most important person in the world to him, was looking at him with more love in his eyes than Edwin could ever know what to do with. Instead, he simply leaned forward again, stealing another short, sweet kiss from his partner's lips.

"Correct," Edwin claimed through another kiss, smiling as Charles bumped their noses together.

"See, I'm thinking something different, yeah?"

The smug look was coming back, but Edwin couldn't bring himself to be bothered by it, resting his hand on the arm Charles had supporting himself, playing with the bracelets on his wrist and relishing in the way Charles shivered at the feeling of Edwin's fingertips lightly tracing over his skin.

"And what would that be, Detective Rowland?"

Charles turned his hand over, clasping his with Edwin's as he sat straight up again to prevent himself from falling over. Perhaps instinctually, Edwin rolled his chair ever so slightly to follow Charles' movement, staying right in the other boy's orbit.

"I think," Charles began with a smirk, raising Edwin's hand to press a kiss to his knuckles, "that you like me."

Edwin pursed his lips in effort to hide his smile. "Now I have no idea where you may have ever gotten an impression like that."

"Yeah?" Charles asked smugly.

Edwin hummed, "Truly. Can't stand the sight of you. Leave now, before I. . ."

Whatever he'd planned to end his sentence with- some empty threat that probably would have had Charles laughing- was lost to the universe as Charles kissed his knuckles again, his palms cradling Edwin's hand so gently, so reverently. He touched and looked at Edwin as though there was nothing more important in the world.

"Before what?" Charles prompted, his voice low and sweet as he hold Edwin's hand to him, tucking their joint palms against his chest, right where his heart would've beat.

"Before I. . ." Edwin sighed out, an end to his threat still lost somewhere, escaping him. Truly, only Charles Rowland could make him lose his words, his every thought. Edwin stood from his chair, moving closer as Charles instinctively shifted his legs to allow Edwin to step into the space between them.

"Before I fall in love with you, and remain that way for the course of the rest of our afterlives - for forever."

The joy that shone on Charles' face was unmatchable. It seeped from his skin, bones, and very soul, filling the room around them and engulfing Edwin. He'd do anything to keep that look on Charles forever.

"Bit late for that, innit?" Charles inquired softly, still playing along with their little game. "I seem to remember something about some stairs."

Edwin huffed out a laugh.

"Right. Well, then, I suppose it is already too late. You have bewitched me body and soul."

Charles had always, for as long as they'd known each other, loved listening to Edwin read to him. Nearly anything they could get their hands on. Jane Austen had always been a favorite of Charles, though he knows the boy would never admit it. Recently, Niko had shown them the films based off of her works - Charles had loved those just as much.

"And I love, I love, I love you," Charles finished happily, and Edwin gave a pleased hum.

"I love you, my dear Charles. . . Even when you do distract me from my work."

A laugh burst from Charles as he gave a squeeze to Edwin's hand.

"Pretty sure looking into the magical properties and medicinal effects of. . . whatever plant it was can wait."

"Crystal wanted-"

"Crystal was asking an open question just out of curiosity. You're the one turning it into a research project."

Edwin frowned for a moment, looking down at the books on his desk.

"Hey," Charles interrupted any thoughts jumping to his mind, squeezing his hand again."I'm not saying don't do it. It's properly sweet of you and she'll appreciate it. I'm just saying, maybe Crystal doesn't need an answer today, yeah?"

Edwin hummed, "I do suppose you're right."

Charles let out a pleased sound, "I usually am, mate."

Edwin didn't bother even responding to that.

"Now come on. I wanna lay on the sofa and love you for the course of the rest of our afterlives."

Edwin let out a laugh, allowing himself to be pulled away from his desk and towards the little sofa in their office. Charles truly was right - when he had the love of his afterlife looking at him like that, everything else could wait.

#anyway FUCK netflix #what absolute bullshit #dead boy detectives #dead boy detectives fanfiction #dbda fanfic #dbda #payneland #charles rowland #edwin payne #renew dead boy detectives #painland #paynland #chedwin #edwin x charles #dead boy detective agency

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teojira · 4 months

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[Caesar and Proximus' day to day life] [headcanons]

Summary: You're a human companion to the two apes, this is little things to expect as you live with them and in addition, the rest of the apes.

Word count: 900+

Warnings: None that I can think of! This is mostly platonic, some romance in Caesars if you squint.

Pronouns: Not specified.

A/N: first Planet of the apes request!! I'm so excited, shoutout to the other writers on ao3 I've looked up to for years. I hope this is okay anon! I couldn't reference back to your ask since I lost it and I hope this is the general idea you were hoping for 💀🙏

[Caesar]

For the sake of this, Caesar did NOT die at the end of war, and you're immune to the disease! (Nova is also fine here bc fuck you that's my daughter)

Truth be told it was very very very fortunate for you that you appealed to his good side after all this time, He's tired.

Tired of being hurt, tired of losing family, but he has no choice but to push on, when you offered at first to help him with any injuries or issues that arise in the colony, it's a firm no.

Despite everything he's been through, Caesar does love humans, he think a part of him always will, so just keep trying and you will crack his shell.

Once you two finally have something akin to friendship, is when he finally learns that he can rely on you.

It isn't uncommon to see you holding Cornelius and walking to and from different parts of the colony, Caesar trying in vain to tell you to let the boy down, saying you'll start to spoil him (it's too late, Cornelius will start to go to you for when his dad tells him no.)

Caesar doesn't really think he'd ever find another mate, but without his notice, you start to fill in that role.

Spending the most time with him, helping him make decisions, taking care of Cornelius, helping the other apes learn and sign, you take on the role fairly well.

It isn't uncommon for you to tend to his wounds, he prefers to go to you versus the others, he acts akin to a child when in your care though, hissing dramatically when you rub a salve on his forearm. It results in you slapping his shoulder and it makes him laugh.

Speaking of laughing, he never thought having you around would lighten the weight of the world he constantly holds over his shoulders, you make him feel young again. Before all of this.

He grows fonder of you when he sees some aspects of Caroline in you, noting just how loving and caring you are not only to him, but to everyone, Maurice, Rocket, even Bad ape with how much of an odd ball he is.

Caesar may be the leader (and old, you remind him. He ignores you.) but it doesn't mean he can stay at the colony all day, he goes out to hunt with the others, and when he does, he'll come to you and do a palms up, waiting for your permission.

He doesn't need it, but it makes you feel better when you see him off.

Maybe this is me projecting but he is SO possessive of you, he's lost so much, he lost Buck, Luca, Blue eyes, Cornelia, Koba, Will, his grandfather.

It puts him on the defense, never wanting you to go anywhere without at least one ape to protect you. It'll lead to arguments you Will not win.

Sorry if you just want to go to the river to wash up, either he's coming with you or Rocket is. Too Bad so sad.

Other apes come to you to ask you to ask Caesar if they can do something they Know he would never approve of, it's because they know out of everyone here, with the exception of a handful of apes, you're his soft spot.

Many apes were concerned with you joining them, but you've earned your spot among them, you are loved and trusted.

Koba would be rolling in his grave, seeing you work alongside Caesar, being a genuinely good person and a loving companion.

[Proximus]

It's canon that Proximus has a fondness for humans, but it's so severely different than Caesars, no matter how much he claims to be like the former.

You're more so of a toy to him, similar to Trevathan, but while he reads the Bonobo literature and teaches him things, you're like a pet. You keep him entertained.

This isn't to say he treats you cruelly though, all things considered, you're taken care of fairly well with a lot of luxuries the other apes under his rule are not privy to.

You wear a collar, which is demeaning, but it is better than having a chain connected to it, so everyone knows you're his.

Poor Sylva being forced to be your guard when you ask if you can go walking alone the beach, he doesn't want to do it but he WILL (he becomes fond of you begrudgingly, partially out of respect for Proximus but you're too nice for your own good, asking him how his day is going and whatnot. He hates you.)

Proximus calls you pet, btw. He knows your name but will only use it when it's the two of you or for special occasions.

Brings you out into the colony to show you all the progress being made, he's looking for his ego to be inflated, go ahead and do it so you two can head back inside and get out of the heat.

He likes to show you off while he does, telling his subjects that you're special, like Nova was to Caesar. He's delusional and Caesar would be fucking pissed to be compared.

He doesn't need you to do much honestly, you're meant to sit there and look pretty and make him feel important. Maybe help him out with grooming and taking care of his belongings. He trusts you to mend and keep his crown and his attire in good condition.

Likes to play with your hair, the texture is different than apes, and he finds it soothing to run his fingers through it or just pet your head. Once again, it is very demeaning, but it could be worse.

Like Caesar, he is possessive and will try and limit your contact with the others in fear you'll like them more. Your little trio consists of you, himself, and Sylva. He lets you interact with Trevathan, but it's not an everyday thing.

He does care for you more than he'd ever admit, but it doesn't mean he'll particularly change for your sake, at least not intentionally. He's kinda insane and kinda a piece of shit, and you're aware of this.

Makes you sit next to him when he hosts dinners, making sure to pat your head and coo at you (When Noa first sees you at the table getting treated like how he'd treat an eagle, he gives you one of his signature side eyes bc lmao what the fuck is going on)

When it comes down to the ending of the movie when he dies, you're at a loss, Mae frankly thinks you're too far gone, and Noa is not willing to take a chance to offer you a home.

All you have really left to do is to go back to the colony and what's left of it, back to the remaining apes and humans still left unattended. Telling them they're free to go.

At some point among the years of being the closest to Proximus, you do care for him, and it's hard to think he's gone, he offered you a sense of security and belonging, but it's gone now.

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏɴ!

#heres the apes post lets see if anyone unfollows me /j #i dont care i warned on the pin LMAO #teddy loves apes ☆#planet of the apes x reader #planet of the apes #pota #kotpota #planet of the apes caesar #kingdom of the planet of the apes Proximus Caesar #Proximus Caesar #Caesar

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boundinparchment · 11 months

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In Trenodia

Long-distance marriages are difficult. But you and Wriothesley always manage to make time for one another. Female Reader/Wriothesley. Second scene is implied to occur after Act 4 of the Fontaine Archon Quest. Song for title inspiration - 'In Trenodia' by VV. CW: smut, breeding kink if you squint, oral, cunnilingus MINORS DNI. RATED EXPLICIT. On AO3 here.

After routine confirmations of invoices and goods, along with small talk from the surface, you were escorted to your husband’s office. As you were every visit. No one, not even the Duchess, was exempt from protocol.

By now you knew every guard’s name and face and remembered their troubles from the last time you visited. It wasn’t easy to live in the depths, let alone work in them. You knew the other side, what it was to be without, and you easily understood the toll separation took. Words from you might not soothe, not entirely, but expectation danced on every face and you saw it as your duty to bring what reassurance and reprieve you could.

The guards sent word ahead of your arrival, naturally, so you did not expect to surprise Wriothesley nor be interrupted while you were there.

Years ago, the large imposing doors frightened you. You had not expected the Duke himself to want to speak to you. In hindsight, it made sense: you were a small vendor directly supplying him. He had been so impressed that your honey did not taint his tea beyond recognition. Wriothesley was instead immediately interested in how your methods varied from those used by the companies that mechanically processed the liquid as well as other beekeepers.

Moments like those left you lighter than air. But they also managed to claw at the wound that never truly closed. One you were used to nursing in the later hours of the night. Distance made the heart grow fonder, of course; it also served as a chasm that would never be truly crossed.

Now was not the time for such melancholy, you reminded yourself.

As you entered Wriothesley’s office and the guard closed the doors behind you, you could make out the faintest familiar notes from the phonograph. With a large jar of liquid gold tucked under your arm, you climbed the stairs and crested just as Wriothesley looked up from his paperwork.

The weariness under his eyes and in the thin line of his mouth faded, barely visible as he laid eyes on you.

“You have impeccable timing, my love,” he said as you approached, lips quirking into a soft smile. “Just when I was about to take a break.”

You rested the jar on the desk, the contents almost glowing from the way the light passed through the contents, and leaned over to meet him for a kiss. Your heart jolted, as it always did, at the sensation of his soft lips on yours and at the scent of his shaving cream.

Wriothesley stood and stretched for a moment, rolling his shoulder as he rounded the desk. He picked up the jar with a single hand to examine it and held it up to the light.

“Darker this year. How was the yield? Did you have any trouble harvesting?”

You shook your head.

“Monsieur Lockwood’s Rainbow Roses were quite the feast for the hives. The taste is mild enough but I’ll let you be the judge of that.”

He cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. You carefully took the jar from his grasp, opened it, and dipped your finger into the honey, extracting just enough to sample. Wriothesley’s hand, large and warm, encircles your wrist and guided your finger to his mouth. He licked methodically, savoring every drop as his eyes closed for a moment in thought.

When he opened them again, you caught the faintest hint of hunger mingled with astonishment.

“Floral without being over-powering. Refreshing, even. My compliments to the hive.”

“I’ll be sure to give them your praises,” you laughed as you closed the jar and set it aside.

Wriothesley’s hands found your face, the rough pads of his fingers ghosting over your skin. He lowered his head to brush his nose against yours, a playful smirk on his face.

“I can think of only one gift sweeter than any honey you bring me,” he whispered.

“And what would that be, Your Grace?”

“You.”

This time, the kiss you shared was deep, eager, and full of longing. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you tasted the last remnants of honey when his tongue brushed yours and elicited a low moan from deep in his chest. Wriothesley maneuvered you against the desk and then reached for your legs, lifting you to the surface with ease and hiking up your skirt to settle between your legs.

Hours later, when duty could no longer be pushed aside, Wriothesley would escort you back to the passageway to the surface.

You would leave with flushed cheeks and sticky thighs, with only memories of his laugh and loving gaze to ease the ache in your heart until your next visit.

You hadn’t anticipated the possibility of another outcome.

After all, you were married to a man sentenced to live in exile, to work in the shadows and support those sentenced to a different life than one provided on the surface. When he told you of the circumstances, how he came to be prisoner and then warden, he wiped away your tears before they could spill and you understood that he held a love far larger than himself.

He was not a man of sentimentality, your Wriothesley; he was a man of loyalty, of action.

So, one morning when you spotted the figure walking up the path to your humble home (modest by most standards of Fontaine’s highest rankings of nobility), your heart immediately leapt into your throat and stayed there, like a stone.

Were you hallucinating?

Surely not.

You would know that hair and gait even through the beekeeping veil currently clenched in your hands. The report of recent events arrived with your morning post and you were keen to set to work. If you worked, you could not worry about the murmurs of Fatui presence, the recent trial with a Harbinger, nor your cook’s mumbling about the prophecy you grew up hearing.

Wriothesley was working on a solution, one that only solidified his sense of duty to the nation that gave him a second chance.

His gray eyes skimmed over you from heel to head as he drew closer in the cresting morning light, golden rays catching the fastenings of his overcoat. You couldn’t even get a word out of your mouth before he cupped your face and kissed you, ardently, thumbs brushing just under your eyes.

“Wriothesley—” you gasped, his name nothing more than a rush of air when the kiss broke and you were wrapped in his arms, his presence sturdy, warm.

When you pulled away, you could see the fine lines from lack of sleep, the way worry had settled into the corners of his mouth and the hardness of his eyes. He hid them well but he always lowered his metaphorical mask around you, just enough for the truth to peer out.

“I had to deliver a report to the Chief Justice in-person. It didn’t make sense to come all this way only to not see you,” he said softly. “They’ll just have to forgive me for breaking protocol to see my wife at least one more time.”

His expression softened and his gaze traced over you the way an artist’s brush touched canvas. Wriothesley pried one hand from your hat and bringing it to your lips. “Your Grace.”

Your face grew hot as you held his gaze and you couldn’t help but match his smile. How long had it been since he’d been up here, on the surface, at your too-empty home?

“I was going to check on the hives and fields before breakfast. Care to join me?”

“Nothing I’d love more.”

At this hour, the hives were quiet, as were the fields. The sky was finally beginning to turn from inky blue to orange, gold, and pink beyond the lines of trees surrounding the property. A new morning, full of potential, even if the colors were slightly different for him.

You weren’t sure who turned first, who initiated the slow kiss that only seemed to deepen with every passing second. Time itself seemed to stop when you tugged slightly on Wriothesley’s tie to bring him down into the tall grass. He complied, arms wrapped around you, holding you close to him as the soft blades beneath you gave way.

“Adventurous this morning, aren’t you, my Duchess?” Wriothesley teased above you, his knee nestled in the perfect spot between your legs.

“Mmm, more like taking advantage of the opportunity while we have it,” you replied, smiling as you reached up to kiss him.

Your body reacted to him like metal in a thunderstorm every time, instantly aware of your own needs, overwhelmed by the love that flooded your heart. Distance was difficult for ordinary couples and the decision to continue, to marry, hadn’t been easy.

But this sensation, moments where you were the only two in the entire world. It made all the struggles worth it.

“Sunlight comes with you everywhere, makes you almost glow…” he whispered.

You reached for him, pushed his coat from his shoulders and made quick work of his shirt buttons, exposing his scarred chest. In return, the stays of your dress were pulled apart, the fabric pooling at your waist and revealing your breasts, nipples hardening in the slight morning chill.

“I can’t remember the last time I smelled grass. Smelled flowers, wild flowers not yet cut. Nothing smells the same down there, where the sun can never reach…always smells like burnt metal.”

His mouth was hot on your skin, hungry but tempered as his teeth grazed the column of your neck and his lips found your breasts. A jolt ran through you from heart to core as he flicked his tongue over your nipple and then sucked, just enough to elicit a gasp from you. His free hand traced the curve of your other breast before he switched, tongue swirling gently.

Your hands found purchase in his black and gray hair, mussing it further as he worked downwards and pushed your skirts up to your waist. He gazed up at you through his lashes as he pushed aside your panties, fingers dancing along your folds and finding you slick and swollen.

“Beautiful,” he breathed against your thighs, the words tickling your sensitive flesh. His tongue brushed your lips and he moaned softly. “Tastes as exquisite as it looks.”

His hand parted your folds a little further and his tongue returned to stroke you. You arched your back as he swirled circles against your clit, a familiar sensation sitting low in your belly to stoke the throbbing ache deep inside you. Your fingers in Wriothesley’s hair tightened as you pulled slightly in your eagerness, unsure if you wanted him to stop or push you over the edge.

“Don’t worry, Your Grace, I wouldn’t finish you so quickly,” Wriothesley teased. “But I do want to savior you.”

True to his word, you never peaked. But he did keep you on the precipice, eternally aware of the white-hot heat searing through your veins and your ever-growing need to be even closer to him.

Wriothesley only pulled away after pressing one finger into your wet heat and kissing your clit with a flick of his tongue. You looked towards him, craning your neck to find your essence across his jaw and chin, glistening in the morning light. His gaze was lost for a moment, memorizing you.

After all, you never knew when the next time to see each other would come. You might be able to predict and show up with a jar of honey and steal hours of his time. Or, as you were this morning, you might be informed of events beyond almost anyone’s control.

You watched as Wriothesley freed himself from the confines of his trousers and positioned himself above you again. He brushed himself against your wet folds, back and forth, and he groaned.

“I love that sound. So wet for me…”

Your eyes never left his as he pressed into you, slow and steady, and buried himself to the hilt. Deep inside, your walls were already squeezing. Both of you let out a sound that begged the other to hold on a little longer.

You craned your neck up as Wriothesley bent down, foreheads pressed together and eyes fluttering shut as he withdrew entirely before starting with slow, deep strokes.

“Need this to last,” he whispered against your lips. “To feel every inch of you around me.”

His composure slowly slipped away as you tilted your head and kissed him, sweet and full. You wrapped your arms around him, hands finding his shoulder muscles. One of your feet, devoid of its shoe, rested at the top of his thigh; just before he could pull out entirely again, you pushed him deeper inside of you.

“I want to feel you even when you’re gone,” you murmured. “So I have something to tell me this wasn’t just a dream.”

More words sprung to your mind but they were washed away by the fire building within you. Wriostheley grunted as your walls squeezed slightly, begging him for more. You caught a mischievous glint in your husband’s eyes when he pulled back slightly and reached for your foot. He gently folded your leg and pressed it against you, giving him a better angle.

“I have a better idea.” He wriggled slightly and you gasped as he twitched deep inside you at the perfect spot. “I’ll come right here…fill you up over and over…”

He sped up his pace, your breathing ragged as your scents mingled with the grass and wildflowers. The coil deep in your belly tightened and you felt everything else fall away as your toes curled and white-hot heat threatened your entire existence.

“Wriothesley—"

Light exploded across your vision as you shuddered and convulsed around him, underneath him. It was too much and not enough all at once, your hips bucking as Wriothesley helped you ride out the aftershocks. He twitched again, burying his face in your neck as he released inside you.

He pulled away only enough to push your hair out of your face and grin down at you, eyes bright. His face was flushed and his hair absolutely ruined but backlit by the morning sun, he looked almost otherworldly.

“I’d like that,” he said softly. “To see you carry my child. Our child.”

You wriggled your hips again, your bodies still coupled. Wriothesley hissed and shifted his weight slightly to keep you from moving. He was just as sensitive as you were and you couldn’t help but grin up at him.

“If you keep that up, we’ll be here all morning, Your Grace.”

“Good.”

#wriothesley #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x female reader #female reader #fem reader #wriothesley x you #in which wriothesley is your husband and you share a morning together #reader has slight personality but not much #smut #minors dni #tw: smut #tw: breeding

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crowleys-bentley-and-plants · 1 month

Text

Won't You Stay?

Won’t you stay a little longer,

When the night is draped in stars?

In the quiet, we grow stronger,

As the world forgets its scars

Won’t you stay as morning tiptoes,

Painting gold across the land?

In the quiet, where the wind blows,

Let me hold your gentle hand

Won’t you stay as hours wander,

Through the canvas of the day?

In the stillness, growing fonder,

Let the world just drift away

Won't you stay until the last light,

Fades into the night’s embrace?

In your eyes, I see the starlight,

That no darkness can erase

Won't you stay here in my arms

In this fragile, fleeting now?

In this love, away from harm,

Let's forget the why and how

Won’t you stay, until forever,

Till the clocks no longer chime?

In this bond, no force can sever,

Won’t you stay, beyond all time?

final fifteen + crowley asking questions+ unbreakable bond = foolproof recipe for breaking my heart :')

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated💙

hi bestiess @crowleys-hips @bearthewhipsandscornsoftime @fearandhatred @ghostsparrow @eybefioro @seven-stars-in-his-palm @ficreader500 @foolishlovers @sabotage-on-mercury @crowleys-curl @crowleybrekkers @goodomensafterdark @notagoodlad @lickthecowhappy @goodoldfashionednightingale @spookyllamatree @wanderer-main @ineffabildaddy @marika-misc @captainblou @weasleywrinkles @chaoticgayomens @amagnificentobsession @thebookshoparoundthecorner @quintessentiallychemical @naturallyteal

ao3 link:

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens poem #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #go2 #original poem #original poetry #good omens poetry #idk why this poem took me like a week to finish #i mean i am still on holiday so that's why maybe lol but still #go be free poem #i fumbled with the meter halfway through ignore that lol

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hunnysnoops · 6 months

Text

˗ˋ𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕋𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕙 𝕋𝕖𝕖𝕟𝕤ˊ˗

Chapter One: Undone

Kylie Broflovski x fem Reader

If you want to destroy my sweater, pull this thread as I walk away.

Also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Premise: Despite having almost inseparable families, you and Kyle couldn't hate each other anymore than you already. The second you saw him you had your claws out and we would be ready to hold a knife to your throat, like wolves you devoured each other until a bump in the road sent you tumbling into a new dynamic. Maybe you two can find new ways to fall apart.

Warnings: Vulgar language+humour / mentions of smoking and drugs / Cartman gets called fat

MASTERLIST

Kyle was the only one who knew how truly competitive you were. He couldn't figure out how no one else saw especially during your sports matches, you always had to be forward, had to score the last point, had to win, and you craved it as compulsively as the nicotine you sucked from your fingernails when you ran out of cigarettes to burn through.

Your parents had always been close to Kyle's since high school allegedly; being constantly forced to jump back and forth between each other's houses for family dinners and game nights didn't aid in the fact that you wanted to tear each other's throats out with razor-sharp teeth. They say that distance makes the heart grow fonder and this absurd proximity made the both of you sick with a frothing rage.

You couldn't pinpoint exactly where this hatred started, it was likely back in middle school where it was taboo for boys and girls to hang out, and those kids acted like it breached scripture if you did. Truthfully you didn't remember being friends but there was photo evidence of you playing as children so you couldn't deny it.

He has seen every inch of your life inside and out from the seventeen years that you were cursed to spend side by side. He knew that you had some fun habits such as swallowing back a little bit of synthetic sunshine in the form of little tabs of acid and how you would take a joint for a stroll in the dead of night.

For every secret he held over your head, you dangled one of his right before his green eyes. This is the only thing that kept all hell from breaking loose.

"Good practice girls, I'll see all of you on Thursday," Coach Jackson said, with no indication of pride for the team's gruelling efforts on her tanned face, not even a dribble of sweat on her brow since all she did was stand in place and yell at you.

As soccer practice finally came to a close the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting an orange glow on the team where you all lay on the ground of the pitch next to your bags, trying to catch your breath. Nichole chugged down her water so fast that it was dribbling down her chin and droplets had soaked into her tee shirt.

You were the most composed of all of them despite being a little short of breath, you wiped the sweat from the bow of your lip and began to peel off your sweaty shin guards.

"How are you so okay?" Annie asked, red-faced, strands of her curly blonde hair sticking out and flying loose in the wind while she sipped on a Gatorade.

You shrug "I run a lot," It was the truth, you liked the feeling of burning in your lungs along with the fact that you built up good stamina and in turn were able to withstand your coach's harsh practices.

"I should start running with you," Annie says, panting heavily before she throws herself flat against the cool grass.

"I don't know if you could keep up," There's something of a smile playing on Red's face while she shoves her gross gear into her duffle bag. "I see her run by my house every night." She had a bit of trouble keeping her shag cut tied back in a ponytail, any attempt to get the layers to stay in a braid or bun was futile so she settled on a black headband to at least keep it out of her face.

Off in the distance, Bebe honked her car horn, she had shown up early to pick up her friends and due to this in the last fifteen minutes of practice you could hear classic Justin Bieber blasting faintly from her car. "Annie, we gotta go," Nichole says.

"Ugh," Annie draws out in her dazey state. Nichole paid her friend the service of grabbing her bag and trying to drag her up to her feet.

"C'mon," Nichole mutters, hooking an arm around Annie and yanking her up to her feet. Annie finds her own footing and detaches herself from Nichole, she's still in her shin guards and cleats. "Are you coming to Wendy's later?" Nichole looks at you, sweat shimmering on her ebony skin beneath the setting sun.

You think about it for a moment before ultimately shaking your head "I gotta pick my brother up."

"What about after?"

"Too crammed with homework," You were lying through your teeth, your social battery was just running a little low and things with your dad weren't going too great. You made the decision that you needed to lock yourself in the bathroom run the shower over your skin and scrub until the water washed away the stress of your week or get high with Kenny until you felt your face go numb. Just something along those lines.

"Too bad," Annie frowns, eyes half-lidded and breathes shallow.

"See you tomorrow then," Red waves at you before heading to her car, bright hair sticking out in the green landscape.

“Love ya, Red,” You look around at the rest of your team, all cooling down and conversing "Anyone need a ride home?" Everyone looks around and shakes their heads "Isla?"

"No," She says "I'm going with Kelly."

"Alright," You sling your bag over your shoulder, clutching your carabiner in hand, it has a little keychain of a Volkswagon bus on it, a cowboy hat knick-knack and of course your actual keys. "Bye guys, see you on Thursday."

Your words are met with collective 'goodbyes' from the girls. You walk off the pitch, and despite your legs feeling like jello you manage to step off of the grassy field and land on concrete, lazy steps leading you back to your car.

Tossing your bag into the backseat, you tap around on your phone to connect to the speaker, turn it up as loud as it goes and roll down your windows. You liked your music so loud that you couldn't even hear your own thoughts, just your playlist on shuffle as you absentmindedly sang along to it. You grabbed some body spray and doused the car in it to cover up the subtle linger of cigarettes from your late-night drive the previous evening.

The air was warm and carried the scent of fresh-cut grass as you drove through the familiar suburban streets. With the windows down, you felt the gentle breeze tousle your hair, a welcome relief from the day's heat. You hummed along to the music, mind drifting as you navigated the familiar route.

As you turned the corner onto the neighbour's street, the sun painted the sky in a breathtaking array of colours - hues of orange, pink, and purple blending seamlessly against the evening sky. You couldn't help but steal a moment to admire the beauty of the sunset, the vibrant colours reflecting in your eyes. It was nearing six pm when you finally pulled into the Broflovski driveway.

You step out, looking a little worse for wear. You had taken off your shin guards and cleats but left the knee-high socks on as well as a tee shirt with the Park County cows logo on it and a pair of athletic shorts. It was one of the warmer days since it was nearing summer though South Park had a way with erratic weather that couldn't make up its mind, you were sure there would be a storm tomorrow to cancel out the nice weather.

Knocking on the door, you put on a smile, expecting to see Gerald or Sheila though you were unpleasantly met with their oldest son, Kyle. Your smile drops immediately and it's easy to see that he isn't too excited to see you either. "Oh." You push passed Kyle and into his house "Weston," You call out "Time to go!"

Kyle wrinkles his nose "You smell like hand sanitizer," He says, speaking on all of the body mist you had sprayed in the car.

"And you look like orphan Annie," You turn quickly to face him before calling up the stairs "Weston, let's go!"

"Did you leave your windows down at the car wash?" His eyes rake up your body at your sweaty form, little strands of hair sticking to your neck.

"Go on Accutane, matchstick," You retort. This nickname came about when Kyle began to outgrow his friends, with a lanky body and a mop of curly red hair, the nickname struck you in a moment of genius. As of now, he was wearing his hat, he hardly ever took it off, especially out in public. You'd only seen it come off his head when he was swimming or when his mom forced it off.

Something about the Broflovski house was always comforting even if you hated one-fourth of the family, you loved the other three. The scent of whatever Sheila was cooking always lingered in the air, right now the smell was sweet and faint. You assumed she hadn't been home but caught a glimpse of a cookie rack set out on the kitchen counter.

His eyebrows furrow "My acne isn't even that bad," He was right, you just knew that it got under his skin "Crash," He says, a little less creative than your nickname for him, born from the time you did acid and woke up in his backyard, luckily before his parents noticed you but not after Kyle took pictures of you passed out on the grassy lawn as well as a few rumours that had been spread about you.

"Sure, ginger, sorry you have a hard knock life," You had run out of insults to call him after seventeen years. In middle school, you ripped on him constantly for how scrawny he was along with voice cracks and his acne, though in recent years, he had passed puberty, had a deeper voice, sorted out his pimple issue, and taken to running, basketball, lacrosse, and going to the gym to tone up. You could still rag on him for it but it has less impact when it wasn't true and god knows you wouldn't go mocking his religion, you may have hated him but you had morals. All you had left to make fun of was his hair colour.

It was similar to the way he couldn't make fun of you for being ugly, unpopular, or stupid like he used to since puberty hit you like a bus and you were almost unrecognizable from the brace-faced awkward kid you used to be. You were also a little too confident and erratic for his liking.

You were going to make your way upstairs to Ike's room where you assumed the two boys had been until you heard the familiar sound of upbeat electric rhythms and horribly overacted lines of Fury Fighters, a classic 1v1 fighting game. You move away from Kyle and turn in to the living room where you see your little brother and Ike on the couch, hyper-focused on the game ahead of them. "Did you go deaf suddenly or were you just ignoring me?"

"I was ignoring you," Weston says, bluntly. His hair is an untamed mess and the collar of his wrinkled tee is stretched out. He doesn't even look back at you but Kyle cracks a smile at his words.

"C'mon shrimp, we gotta go," You say, crossing your arms.

He lets out a groan "Can I stay like thirty more minutes?"

You shake your head "Nah, Kyle's cologne is giving me a headache."

Ike snorts a laugh and glances back at his brother, his smile falls when he looks at you; he's putting on his tough guy persona. He clears his throat and deepens his voice in the slightest "What's up?" It was clear that the little brother had a crush on you though no one brought it up, you could tell it bothered Weston.

"Hey, Ike," You give him a tight-lipped smile, watching as he turns back to the TV, fingers clicking over the controller aggressively. "You can finish this round and we're out."

"Yes!" Weston says "Thanks, love you," He says with haste, thinking that it'll butter you up.

You plop yourself on the carpeted floor in front of the couch to watch the match play out. Ike was playing as Tempest, a mage who was wise and old, a long white beard yet he somehow had an absolutely shredded pixel body. Weston was playing Sable, a pink-haired woman in a short nurse's uniform who used surgical tools as weapons, she was your go-to back when you still played Fury Fighters with your friends. You would refuse to play as a man because it breached your pre-teen code of feminism. Watching them play made you feel nostalgic.

Kyle leans his elbows on the back of the couch, hands clasped together to watch the game, the same as you. "Kick his ass, Weston," Kyle says, rooting for your brother, purely to annoy his.

"Hey!" Ike exclaims though he doesn't move his unwavering gaze from the game "Whose side are you on?"

"Smoke him, Ike!" You say, a little louder than intended to balance out the cheering section.

Sheila always kept the household neat which was a miracle with Ike and Weston always running around, recently she had taken to a love of houseplants and had at least one in every corner of the home. There were framed pictures strung up on every single wall without fail, lots of the family, Sheila's wedding day, and a collection of you and Kyle actually getting along when you were kids. There's one of the two of you playing under a sprinkler in rain boots, another of you standing and smiling brightly by a snowman you made, and a picture of Kyle covering all of your little scrapes in Spider-Man band-aids. In every photo of you after the age of seven, you were with the rest of your families on opposite ends, as far away from each other as you could get.

You look back to the TV where Ike's character, Tempest summons the dead with his staff, grey decaying hands rise from the 2D ground and drag Sable down. "Fuck!" Weston yells, panic quickly spreading across his face, his eyes shoot back and forth frantically from the controller to the TV.

Sable jumps back up and readies herself into a fighting stance, Tempest moves his staff, a green diamond on the end, horizontally and jabs Sable in the stomach over and over until she rolls back to the ground. Ike has a huge grin on his face, shaggy black hair framing his pale features, he desperately needed a haircut but for now, he was relishing in watching Sable's health bar move down.

"By the elements, I shall prevail!" Calls out Tempest, his voice actor had really put his all into making him sound deep and gruff. Ike randomly spams the buttons, sending out an erratic combo. The characters were fighting in the center of a dark alley, blue and red lights flashing every few minutes.

Sable pulls a long scalpel out of her thigh-high socks and charges towards Tempest, slashing him. When Tempest's health bar falls, Sable speaks out a voice line "Every wound has a remedy," Her sultry voice makes you cringe just the slightest, you hadn't remembered her to sound so sensual.

Tempest rises back up, jumps toward Sable and greets the character with a heavy uppercut, sending her flying through the air. You find your fingers digging into the carpet, you had hoped that Sable would win just from the fact that you used to play as her. You almost wanted to grab the remote from your brother's hand and show him how to play as her, you had memorized all of her combos and moves, and they became muscle memory to you. "You're demise is written in the stars!" The buff wizard raises his hands to the sky, gearing up to cast one final blow.

In the midst of this, Sable jumps up, pulls a bone saw out from behind her back and slices Tempest's head clean off before he can finish casting his spell. Ike drops his controller, moving his hand to grab his hair, eyes wide and mouth agape in shock while he watches his character's health bar plummet to zero. The wizard's head rolls around on the pixel ground before Sable picks it up and kisses it "Nurse's orders: Stay down," She says before drop-kicking the head out of frame. A title card covers up the scene that reads 'It's a wrap!’

"Fuck yeah!" Weston says, giving Kyle a firm high five. He looked happier than you had seen him all week, middle school was kicking his ass and you had to pull some time aside almost every night to help him with algebra. You would've scolded him for playing video games instead of studying for his social studies test if you hadn't been doing the same at his age.

"How the hell did you do that?" Ike's head whips to look at his friend who just shrugs.

You push yourself off the floor, giving your brother's hair a little tussle "Let's go, shrimp."

With a groan Weston up to slip his shoes on at the rack, "See you tomorrow, Ike," He grabs his bag where it sits by the coat stand. Kyle hurdles himself over the couch, taking Weston's place on the sofa and picking up the free controller to play "Bye Kyle!" He says, lacing up his sneakers.

Kyle looks over the couch and at him with a smile "See you later buddy."

The second you think Weston is looking away you stick up the middle finger to the red-headed boy across from you but it surely didn't go unnoticed "Why are you flipping Kyle off?" Weston asks, furrowing his eyebrows as he looks up at you.

You drop your hand "I'm not, I was waving at him." You lie, trying to form a cover-up. You place a hand between his shoulder blades to guide him out the door.

"You're sweaty," He comments.

"Thanks, I had no idea," You open the door and close it behind you before Kyle can say anything to your brother's remark. It's already colder than when you entered the house and you race to get to the car before you get a chill.

Weston hops into the passenger seat, scrunching up his nose at the music you're playing "Can you put on Lil Shovel?" He asks. It was one of the many rappers he had attempted to imitate. He thought they were cool for decking themselves out in designer brands and sticking dollar bills into women's thongs in music videos.

"I'm not playing that shit," You start the car and turn out of the driveway.

"Why?"

"Because it makes me want to hammer nails into my ears," You answer, eyes focused in the road while you glide through the suburban street. "Listen to Eminem or something."

"Dad doesn't like Eminem."

You wrinkle your nose "Why?"

"Because he said that thing about the gerbil."

Recognition hits you and you nod "Yeah, that checks out," Your dad was a pretty modest guy, he didn't care about anything overly vulgar. He basically mandated your life, he was the reason you were in so many extracurriculars and were the last person in your grade to get a phone, something Kyle would've teased you for if your parents weren't so similar.

"Can you drive me and Ike to the quarry on Friday?" Weston has one hand sticking out of the window moving it up and down like it was a plane, it was something you used to do before you were the one driving, a little mannerism he picked up off you.

"I have track practice and then I gotta help Heidi and Wendy with their fundraiser, sorry, shrimp," You take note of every house you pass, swearing you could put a name to every single one. You felt the fatigue hit you all at once, you knew that night your bed would become a casket and you would have to be pried from it like a floorboard. "Ask Kyle."

"We did, he has basketball practice."

"Bummer," You say. It had slipped your mind completely that he was on the team and you hated it and how your friends gushed about Kyle before catching themselves and sending you apologetic glances. "Guess you gotta bike then."

You remember when you were your brother's age, twelve years old and you came home every night at sunset with a new scrape to show for the adventure you set out on. You gave bruises out like gifts and collected them like stickers, some sort of pride when parents would silently judge you for having purple busted-up knees.

"Mhm," He nods "Hey, can we go to Burger King?"

"No," You say almost immediately "Mom's making dinner right now."

Weston scrunched up his nose "Yeah but she had the crock pot out on the counter when I left for school today," Nothing good came from your mother's crock pot. "Can we please get Burger King?"

"First of all, Mom will kill me if I load you up with more fast food, second of all, she's gonna make you eat her dinner anyways, so just be nice and tell her it's good."

"Ugh," He grumbles watching wistfully into the distance, his thoughts stuck on the combo he was craving. "I should've stayed at Ike's for dinner."

"Yeah, me too," News of the dreaded crock pot had only worsened your day. Sheila on the other hand was an incredible cook, as much as you loved your mom and the effort she put into her meals, nothing would compare to Sheila's brisket. The thought of it almost made your stomach grumble. If you lived with Broflovski's you would've weighed three hundred pounds more.

Your mind ricochets back and forth between going home or heading to Wendy's with the rest of your friends though the thought of being alone with tobacco burning your throat soothed you.

The drive from the Broflovski's to yours wasn't too long, truthfully, your brother was perfectly capable of walking. The sky transformed into a canvas of deepening shades, the last traces of sunlight giving way to the embrace of twilight. You stole glances at your brother, his animated chatter filling the car with warmth.

You park the car in the driveway behind your dad's car, he would surely yell at you to move it in the morning but that was a problem for future you and a decision you would regret making. You pull up on the street right in front of your house. Weston was quick to hop out of the car, he rushed across the lawn and waited by the front door for you to turn off the car, but you didn't, you just watched and waited for him to go inside.

"Are you coming?" Weston asked.

You stick your head out of the window "Tell Mom I'm stopping by Red's, I'll be back before dinner," Weston rolls his eyes at this, he didn't care for Red, since you started being friends with her you had even less time to spend with your brother. Nights of staying up late with Weston and playing Stardew Valley turned into you hanging out with your friend and getting high.

"Tell Rebecca to eat a dick!" Weston cups his hands around his mouth.

"I won't do that but good suggestion," You call back before stepping on the peddle and moving back down the familiar streets. It was just past six and there hadn't been anyone outside, everyone was tucked away in their respective home, warm lights from windows spilling into the darkening sky.

You didn't go to Red's, you just kept driving until you ended up at a gas station on the outskirts of town. It had long passed the dinner you promised to be home for, instead of eating the crock pot monstrosity, you opt for something with a sweeter taste, a cigarette and a bag of teriyaki beef jerky. You sat on the curb watching cars roll past, their headlights framing you like you were on stage. You just craved the aloneness you so rarely got.

You shuffle through the cafeteria line, undecided on what you want to eat but settling on one of those sugar-free drinks that are worse for you than just grabbing a regular soda for a drink. "Keep it moving, Junkie," Cartman says from beside you. God how he irked you, it was in his nature to be unbearable.

"What? Not like it's going anywhere, I'm more worried for the people in line behind you who have to eat crumbs."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" He asks adding a paper plate of ribs to his tray and then another.

"It means you're fat."

He shrugs "Doesn't bother me," Cartman had grown to be a little more self-aware, by a little I mean a very small smidgen.

"You're a fat-fat fatty, keep eating fatty," your voice was unwavering. You hadn't had too much of a problem with Cartman throughout school, sure he had been a dick but you never interacted enough for him to be on your radar until he started a rumour about you shooting up heroin in the janitors closet which led to him telling everyone you were a drug dealer. This cursed you with the nicknames of crash, popper, and of course, junkie. When it first happened you weren't even aware, you just sat confused about why everyone was adding your Snapchat and asking about buying stuff from you. Eventually, staff caught wind of this and it only got worse from there.

"Fuck you, crash," He sticks up a middle finger at you "You're a dyke."

You return the gesture "At least I get pussy, lard ass."

"I have tons of sex, you faggot."

"Your hand doesn't count," You say examining the food in the chafing dishes which looked surprisingly good for school food.

"I don't care if you're a girl, I will kick your ass," He starts to get in your face but you don't bother to acknowledge it, still looking through the food options.

"I bet if I pushed you over you would just keep rolling."

"Whatever bitch."

"Hurry up, butterball," Bebe cuts in front of Eric who has a look of pure seething rage on his face. She looks beautiful as always, blonde curly hair falling in perfect ringlets and framing her dainty face. She's wearing a red off-the-shoulders sweater and low-waisted jeans, it's such a simple outfit but Bebe manages to make it look unique and expensive.

"Fuck you, Bebe," he turns a middle finger to her, "Go shoot up with your little lezzy girlfriend." That was another rumour that he successfully sparked, that you and Bebe were secretly dating. The two of you found it funnier than the heroin thing and played into it on occasion.

"You're so fucking stupid," Bebe wrinkles her nose in distaste of the chubby kid in front of her "Don't crack the floor when you waddle over to your table, fat ass," She adds a yogurt parfait onto her tray and keeps moving down the line, you follow in suit.

The two of you hand the lunch lady your cafeteria card but your eye snags on something else entirely "Where's Wendy?"

Bebe looks in the same direction as you where your entire friend group sits, minus Wendy who you could've sworn was there only moments ago. Her tray still sat in front of her spot on the table "She's talking with Stan I think."

"What?" You look at the blonde text to you while you find your table "Are they getting back together or something?"

"She was saying she wanted to work things out with him last night, you'd know if you were there."

"Why didn't she tell me?" You furrow your eyebrows as you glance at Stan's regular table where he was also absent from. The second thing you noticed was how irritated Kyle seemed, likely because his best friend would be opting to spend time with Wendy again instead of him. Cartman plops himself down next to the ginger, only making Kyle more agitated. When Kyle looks away for a split second, Kenny steals food off his plate and blames it on Eric. “I would never steal food from a dirty Jew!” He says, voice carrying over every other conversation in the room.

"She might not have told because you can be a little-" Bebe searches around for a word that'll soften the message "Abrasive?"

"I'm not abrasive," You say as you sit yourself down at the cafeteria table, immediately met by curious glances from the rest of your friends. This made you question yourself. Had you been so blunt that your best friend didn't want to tell you what was going on in her life? Yes. You didn't know how else to be, it was wired into your system; born from the way you were raised, like a wild animal who fought for scraps, if you didn't kill, you wouldn’t eat. Your family wasn’t really complete, it was more like something like a mom who worked herself to rust and a dad who popped in and out like some kind of disappearing act.

No one bothers to dig deeper into your sentence, already enraptured in their conversation. "I wonder how Tolkien feels about it," Lola asks, leaning in a little to where Nelly sits on the other side of the table, seemingly hanging onto every word.

"I know!" Nelly says, unable to fight the smile that formed on her face every time she gossiped "Did you notice how he isn't sitting where he usually is." At this, everyone turns their heads to Tolkien's regular table, where he’s MIA from.

Halfway through sucking the meat off of his ribs, Cartman notices everyone at your table staring them down. He glances around the table before deciding that you are looking at him, barbeque sauce smeared over his mouth and down his fingers. "What the fuck are you looking at?" He calls out, now drawing the attention of the cafeteria to you and your friends who quickly avert their gazes back to their food.

You meet Kyles's eyes for just a moment, you can read loud and clear that he's annoyed Wendy's back in the picture and she'll be poaching his best friend from him. Despite the act he's trying to portray of being indifferent, you can tell there's a storm brewing beneath his green eyes.

In your pocket, your phone buzzes and you look at it.

McWhoremick: what was that about?

You: Cartman looking rancid

McWhoremick: fair

McWhoremick: wanna hang later?

You: fo sho

You: junkyard?

McWhoremick: yup

McWhoremick: see ya :P

"What's that?" Red peaks down at your phone from next to you, her chin resting on your shoulder "Is it Wendy?"

"She's been weird lately," Jenny says, she doesn't look up from her mac and cheese, just pushes it around absentmindedly with her fork.

"Probably because all of you are talking about her like she's not our friend," Heidi peeps up for the first time in the conversation. You're a little surprised that she's eating lunch with you, in recent days she's been so busy with sustainability club that it's taken up all of her lunch breaks.

Heidi was right as usual. It didn't feel right to be talking about Wendy when she was twenty metres away, it didn't feel right to talk about her at all. The group fell quiet at this, trying to search for another topic that didn't involve speaking poorly of your friend.

"So," Red starts "Who's excited for the basketball game?"

You really weren't, you had no intentions of going though you were sure your parents would make you go to support Kyle. "I think I'll go to watch Kyle," Nichole comments. Your head whips to look at her immediately, it only made sense that she was over Tolkien after what happened with Wendy but you hadn't expected her to go for Kyle.

"Uh oh," Annie says, a small smile playing on her face. Lately, she had taken good care of her curls, a stark difference from the frizzy mess that was stuck on her head all through middle school.

"Nichole," You say, staring her down "Are you okay?"

"Sorry to say this," Bebe pipes up, not one hundred percent tuned into the conversation "He actually isn't the piece of shit that you make him out to be."

"You don't-

"Know him like I do?" Heidi finishes your sentence for you. Something you had repeated over and over again when trying to get your point across that he was evil and no one could see it but you.

"I'd do it," Lola shrugs and your face contorts in disgust.

"Ew," You say with haste, fighting the urge to gag on your food. "Do you guys realize that he's ginger under that hat?"

Everyone is unsurprised at your disdain for him, even though you tried not to talk about him so you didn't seem obsessed, every now and then, the start of a rant would slip out and that would turn into you rambling on and on about every little annoying detail about him. You wondered for a brief moment if he did the same when walking about you.

"What is it that you hate about him anyway?" Red asks.

You rack your brain for a truly solid reason you can't say that it irritated you how Kyle ran the opposite way of you on the trail on your nightly run, it was the most dreaded part of the day, brushing past him and pretending not to notice. You also couldn't delve into the fact that he always had a bored, unimpressed expression on his face when he talked to you. "Everything." You answer "I hate everything about him."

"Okay gang," Mr Waterman claps his hands together once everyone is finally seated. "I know we're getting close to the end of the year and it's exciting but there is always work to be done." He was in his thirties, a little on the shorter side, with brown hair, glasses, and lean for a teacher though it made sense since he doubled as the basketball coach. He had tried his best to be funny though his jokes usually fell flat but you found yourself laughing out of pity like it was second nature.

Wendy sat next to you, you hadn't pressed her about Stan (despite wanting to) and she hadn't brought it up. Kyle sits next to a guy whose name slipped through the cracks of your mind and stays completely silent while the teacher gives his spiel about hard work and effort.

"This will be our final seating change for the year, so if you're next to someone you don't like know it'll be over by the end of June," Mr Waterman sits himself at his desk dead in front of every lab table, shares his computer screen to the projector, showing the new seating arrangments "Alright, here are your lab partners until semester end."

You scan the whiteboard for your name and your breath hitches in your throat when you see it next to Kyles. Kyle whips his head to look at you, your gazes matching in utter terror. You had relished in the fact that You had gone the entire semester without talking to Kyle a single time in biology class.

There weren’t desks in the science labs but black tables built for two people since they worked out better for experiments, there you were stuck at the back of the class with the ginger demon spawn.

"Mr Waterman?" You raise your hand but speak before he even calls on you "You need to move me or I'll kill myself."

"Woah," He puts both of his hands out "Let's not joke about that-

"I'm not joking," You cut him off, tone dead serious. Wendy tugs at the hem of your shirt, trying to get you to sit back down, you just cast her a glance before looking back to the short teacher. "I will kill myself."

"Can you and Kyle please come up here so I can talk to you," At Mr. Waterman's words, Kyle shoots you a malicious glare.

"When you cause a scene about not wanting to sit next to someone it can be hurtful," Mr Waterman addresses you, his tanned hands grasped together. Bless his heart, Kyle thought he was getting in trouble and it would put a dent into his perfect record, the kid never even missed a day of school. You and Kyle stand side by side, in front of Mr Waterman's desk, careful to keep a distance between you. "Think about how Kyle feels right now-

"I feel like I wanna slit my wrists." He deadpans, face unreadable as ever.

"Do you guys need someone to talk to?" Mr Waterman furrows his eyebrows, lowering his voice.

"No," You say, crossing your arms “Not unless it's to get a gun so I can blow my brains out."

"Okay," He repositions himself to sit taller "Can you please tell me why you don't want to sit next to each other, I'm sure we could work this out." You waste no time trying to get yourself away from Kyle, listing off all of his little habits that annoy you. Kyle, on the other hand, bites his tongue. He didn't want his teacher to think poorly of him, not when there was still a little over a month left of the worst year of school he'd ever put himself through.

"Kyle?" You furrow your eyebrows, waiting expectantly for him to go off on how you were disruptive and rude but he sort of just stood there. For a brief moment, you thought he was having a stroke.

"It's fine," At his words, your mouth goes ajar and your eyes widen. You had thought that the two of you stood in solidarity for one thing, you wanted to get away from each other.

"Is it really?" You say through gritted teeth.

"Yeah," He looks at you then back to Mr Waterman "It's just a childhood rivalry, we're just being immature," It took a lot for him to swallow his pride. Kyle just knew he had to get through June and then senior year would be smooth sailing.

"Well," Mr Waterman says and you can tell he's prepping himself for a speech "It seems to me like the two of you could benefit from this seating arrangement. When you get jobs you won't get along with everyone you work with-

"We both have jobs already," You cut him off and Kyle shuffles awkwardly where he stands while the rest of the class chats idly and waits for the lesson to start.

Mr Waterman casts you a look and clears his throat before picking up where he left off "And I understand that sometimes, personalities clash, but we're a team here, and teamwork requires cooperation and understanding. You both have so much potential, but that potential can only be realized when you learn to work together, to support each other, and to lift each other up, rather than tear each other down."

Kyle's mind must've been somewhere else completely, it was like he was in airplane mode, nodding along to everything Mr Waterman was saying. Though you could feel boredom creeping up, fighting yourself to pay attention to the genuinely useless pep talk.

"I want you to take a moment and think about what it means to be part of a team," Mr Waterman urged, his voice gentle yet persuasive. "Think about the strength that comes from unity, the power that comes from collaboration, and the joy that comes from shared success. Both of you are strong students and I can see you doing very well working together on labs and assignments, okay?"

"Yup," You nod your head, giving a thumbs up so he would excuse you and this would blow over.

"Okay," Kyle says.

A smile forms on Mr Waterman's face, he leans further back into his desk chair. "I think I can sense a friendship forming here, now go take your seats."

You laugh awkwardly, quickly brushing past Kyle to sit in your new spot at the back of the class. You were stuck sitting next to Kyle and behind Eric Cartman, how did he get into AP biology? You weren't one hundred percent sure though you heard Isla say that it was a misplacement that never got corrected.

Once again, Mr Waterman calls the class to capture their attention. Writing about the new unit on the whiteboard in a red dry-erase pen that was squeaky and running out of ink. You ruffle through your backpack, trying to find your binder while everyone else is rapidly taking notes. You pull out a stack of textbooks and some personal reading for English, finally finding your science binder.

"Why are you reading Mein Kampf?" He looks at the book that rests on top of the stack, it's old and beaten up and smells a bit like stale orange juice, the cover holds the jarring image of Adolf Hitler.

"Because I'm racist," You say, sarcastically but Kyle doesn't pick up on this and seems a little taken aback "Joking, obviously, it's for history."

He averts his eyes back to the whiteboard. Mr. Waterman speaks briefly on physiology, before wiping the board clean and unfreezing the projector where he set up a slide show. As most science teachers do, he clicks through the slide show and waits for his students to take notes, answering the few questions that the kids have.

"Shit," You mutter as the teacher skips to the next slide before you could finish copying what was on it. You glance at Kyle "Uh, did you write all of that down?”

Wordlessly, he pushes his paper towards you to copy it, he keeps his eyes trained on the board. His writing was neat, it looked like it could've been a font, each word spaced out almost precisely from the next. Cartman snakes his head around and then moves his entire body when he sees the two of relatively civil.

"Jews got a boner for the junkie," Cartman says, a little louder than intended. Next to him, David looks beyond annoyed, he’s gripping his pencil so tightly that you wouldn’t be surprised if he broke it.

"Shut up, fatass," You and Kyle manage to say in sync before you look at each other in disgust that your thoughts matched up.

"I fucking hate high school." You say under your breath, turning to look back at your notes and pushing his back toward him.

"Me too," Kyle says and you're actually on the same page for a change, you're not sure if you like it.

A/N: I hate this but here it is anyway 😔 I promise it gets more interesting. Open to head cannons and requests rn. Thanks for reading!

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daffi-990 · 5 months

Text

stuck now so long, we just got the start wrong

aka rival firefighters 🚒 | buddie | chapter 3/10 | Explicit

“Firefighter Diaz, it’s been a while.” Buck says in greeting as the other firefighter turns around.

Diaz’s hair is sweaty and loose, a few strands falling forward over his forehead that have Buck’s fingers twitching with the want to touch. His face is coated in a mix of dust and maybe car oil? Buck doesn’t know exactly what the black stuff is but it is a look and Diaz is pulling it off.

Diaz clenches his jaw as his eyes harden. “Not long enough.” He mutters, walking past Buck.

“Oh come on!” Buck follows after him. “I bet you’ve missed me. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.”

Buck certainly missed Diaz and his big brown eyes and thick fucking thighs that are connected to such a glorious ass. He really wishes the man wasn’t wearing his turnouts. It’s a crime to keep an ass like that locked away.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder but I still find you incredibly annoying and wish you’d stay gone.” Diaz shoots back, looking 100% done with Buck and the conversation.

Buck also missed this, whatever this is. He gets such a high from flirting with and teasing Diaz. Maybe it’s the hard to get ideal that’s doing it for him, but whatever it is, Buck likes riling Diaz up and today is no different.

“You wound me!” Buck clutches at his heart in mock offense.

Read Chapter Three on AO3

#fic: stuck now so long we just got the start wrong #rival firefighters fic #buddie #buddie fic #buddie wip #buck x eddie

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crosshairlovebot · 4 months

Text

falling for mr. batchbury (part two) / hunter x f!reader

pairing: hunter x f!reader

description: your long-awaited reunion with mr. batchbury has finally come, and so do you.

REGENCY AU

word count: 8,107

warnings: NSFW 18+ explicit sexual content. loss of vriginity (f). p in v s*x. oral s*x (f receiving). lots of kissing. handj*bs. biting. unprotected s*x. cr*ampie. outdoor s*x. partly clothed s*x. religious comparions.

thank you so much for your support on part one.!! the regency hunter/bad batch art that has come from this has been amazing to see i love it so much!! i got v carried away but i enjoyed writing this sm, so i hope you enjoy reading it <3

also posted on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

PART TWO

According to his letters, Mr. Hugo Batchbury earned the nickname “Hunter” due to his uncanny ability to seek out enemy ships and find hidden encampments during the war. You had always known his senses to be more attuned than a normal person, so it seemed fitting for him. And it was why you ventured into your estate’s gardens, knowing he’d be able to find you with ease.

You hurried down the stone steps, lifting the skirt of your gown so you wouldn’t trip as you left the din of the ball behind you.

The ball had been to celebrate your father’s return from war. Of course, that meant the Batchbury Brothers had also returned, each with a nickname of their own. William had come to be known as ‘Wrecker’ due to his enthusiasm with the ship's cannons. Thomas became ‘Tech’ as his knowledge of engineering and other contraptions was second to none. Carlisle’s superior aim with a pistol had bestowed him with the name ‘Crosshair’. You had read it all in Mr. Batchbury’s letters, which were frequent enough that missing him was only agonising, not excruciating.

In the years that passed while they were at sea, writing was the only comfort you had – and knowing they served under your father who was a master at his profession. Your heart raced when the footman brought in the post and there was a letter from Mr. Batchbury. Usually, he would write two – one for you and one for Meg.

His letters to you varied, sometimes they told you of what he’d been doing, sometimes they held a tale from the decks of the ship, some mischief played as they rode the waves. But each contained his voice through written script, the words of the sentences so familiar you could hear them in his voice as you read.

You fell more in love with him through his letters, and he with you. Each one he sent would always detail his love for you, his eagerness to come home and love you at a nearer distance, his wish to marry you when he returned. It all sent thrills and pangs through you.

My thoughts of you only seem to increase the longer we are apart, he’d once written. My sketchbook has run out of pages, and until I can find a new one to fill, I draw your face in my dreams.

Your entire being longed to be with him.

You would write to him too, but the time between letters being sent and arriving for both of you seemed to grow more extensive as the months and years went on.

What was it they said, absence makes the heart grow fonder? Well, your heart's fondness for Mr. Batchbury was so strong it ached. You even requested he send you a self-portrait, just so you could see him face. He’d given it in his next letter – his face so beautifully etched in charcoal, his brow strong over intense black circles of eyes, the curve of his jaw shaded with his birthmark. You had to be careful you didn’t drop tears on it when you gazed upon it.

Meg missed him too – she missed all her brothers dearly, and she followed the papers diligently for news, thrumming with excitement when she received a letter from any of them. She had grown so much in the years that had past. Now eighteen, she had matured into a young lady; she was kind, compassionate and amiable. She was as tall as her brothers and seemed to have absorbed all their best traits too, even if they were far away.

You had been with her as she watched from the window, waiting for their carriage to arrive the afternoon just gone. She bounced on her toes in excitement while you sat on the lounge nearby, just as excited but simultaneously so anxious to see Mr. Batchbury you felt like you might be ill.

What if he saw you and you were not as he remembered? Or what if he saw you and his feelings for you were merely spurred by distance, and now were non-existent? You knew his heart to be mountainous, but mountains did fall victim to erosion when weathered by strong winds.

When you heard Meg squeal, you had jumped from your thoughts. “They’re here! They’re back! They’re here!”

She raced from the room, and you gaped for a moment before following her, your footsteps just as quick. Despite your anxieties, you were still desperate to see him.

And you father, too. You couldn’t forget about him.

You followed her outside and watched as Meg skidded to a stop as the carriage slowed and the horses stilled. The carriage door was thrown open as William– Wrecker emerged. You knew it was him from his build. He guffawed as he wrapped his arms around Meg, lifting her up and spinning her. You heard Meg laugh as you approached.

You realised Wrecker now sported an impressive scar from his ear and across one side of his face, an eye patch covering one eye, his head completely shaved. The other brothers filed out of the carriage, Thomas– Tech had a limp and now held a cane on his left side, Carlisle– Crosshair had a burn scar on one side of his head, the same side as the smattering of port wine that splashed over his right eye. He also had a wooden attachment on one hand to replace one he had evidently lost.

They each had been changed by their time at war, but they still gathered Meg into their arms, their love for their sister eternal.

Your breath hitched when you saw Mr. Batchbury– Hunter move down the carriage steps, his boots crunching on the gravel.

His hair was longer, and the bandana had changed from bright red to a rich colour that matched his port wine birthmark, but apart from that it was as if no time had passed. How was it possible he looked exactly the same? In fact, he looked even more handsome, as if the time spent in the sea air had not weathered him, but ripened his beauty.

You watched as he held his arms out for Meg, who jumped into them. He smiled into her neck, arms wrapping around her tightly, squeezing. You heard Meg begin to cry into her older brother’s shoulders, her own shaking. Your heart squeezed for her.

Though her brothers were everything to her, there was something different about her bond with Hunter. He was more than her brother, he was her guardian too, the one she always turned to, the one who had taken her in and cared for her no questions asked. Hunter was Meg’s mountain, and being without him had been harder on her than she liked to admit. Hunter soothed her with gentle shushes, one of his hands running up and down her back.

“It’s alright, Meg. I’m here now,” you heard him console her gently. “I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

You felt your eyes sting with tears at the heartfelt reunion. They pulled away, and you watched Hunter wipe away his sister’s tears with the pad of his thumb, a smile matching his misty eyes. You watched his hands grab hers as he took a step back, seeing her stand at his height.

“You’re so big now,” his voice cracked.

Meg laughed lightly, wiping her eyes. “You missed a lot.”

“Too much.” Hunter shook his head. “Never again.”

“Never,” Meg agreed.

“Hey!” Wrecker’s loud voice boomed when he spotted you. “Look who it is!”

You held your breath as Hunter’s eyes landed on yours. You watched the way his eyes and shoulders softened, his mouth parted. You watched his mouth turn up at the side, and the stain on his cheek darken at the sight of you. It appeared his penchant to flush at the sight of you had not changed either.

You flushed. Why had you even been worried again?

You cleared you throat and took a step forward. “The Batchbury Brothers have returned.”

“You bet!” Wrecker cheered. “And in one piece!”

“Speak for yourself,” Crosshair sneered, his remaining hand gripping the wrist of his prosthetic.

“We are, mostly, unharmed,” Tech adjusted his glasses with his free hand. “Hunter is the only one of us to remain unscathed.”

Hunter sighed and shook his head. “We all survived. That’s what matters.”

“And we’re rich!” Wrecker laughed proudly.

“I heard about your acquisition of prizemoney,” you said. “Congratulations. It is a great accomplishment for you all.”

“It gives us many opportunities now,” Hunter said carefully, meeting your eyes knowingly. You felt your heartbeat pick up.

Did he…mean…?

You felt your expression lift as you gazed at him hopefully, and you watched his birthmark darken again as he smiled softly at you. The smile conveyed all the love he held for you, steadfast and immovable even after five years, even through a war. Your heart squeezed and you felt as though you might faint.

He did mean that.

“Is my father on his way?” you inquired, slightly breathless as his words danced around your head, the realisation so fanciful it hardly seemed real.

Hunter nodded. “He said he had some paperwork to drop off in London, but he should arrive by this evening.”

“Wonderful,” you breathed, smiling at him with what you hoped conveyed the same amount of love, if not more.

Now, under the cover of the moon and the ball long behind you, you raced through the maze to the centre of it; the very maze where your love for each other had blossomed. You were breathless, and you could feel the bones of your tight corset cutting into your ribs, but you didn’t care.

He would be here soon.

“Hey,” you heard his smoky tenor from behind you. You whirled around to see him standing there, holding a lantern he had taken from the courtyard adjacent to the ballroom. Along with a grey waistcoat, he wore his newly tailored dresscoat, black with some red embroidery stitched into the cuffs and collar. His black boots glistened in the light of the moon, and in lieu of his bandana, he wore a red cravat instead.

He looked dashing.

“Mr. Batchbury,” you breathed as you took in the sight fo him.

How was it fair that he looked beautiful in all lights?

He chuckled. “Are we still using such formalities?”

You were unable to hide your smile. “What shall I call you then? ‘Hunter’?” you teased lightly.

You watched as he inhaled sharply, hands that were once relaxed now clenched. “Yes,” he rasped, his eyes never strayed from you. “Hunter is perfect.”

“Very well…Hunter,” you smiled. You liked the way it sounded on your tongue, and Hunter seemed to as well, returning a closed-mouth smile at you as he continued to gaze longingly at you. Your face felt hot as you fiddled with your fingers awkwardly. The moment of silence passed through you both. You looked at him before tittering nervously. Hunter cocked his head.

“What is it?”

“All these years, I thought I would be gushing with things to say, but words have seemed to escape me,” you joked.

Hunter chuckled, a hearty sound, and walked towards you slowly with the lantern before setting it down on the stone bench beside you both. Now, in the dim orange glow, you were close enough to see those familiar brown-grey eyes, unchanged despite the time that passed.

“It’s been a long time. Far too long,” he murmured, eyes travelling across your face like a caress. You swallowed, flustered by his attentions.

You wished you were more articulate, but you had missed him so much, it was taking everything in you not to just kiss him, to instead prelude such a thing with pleasantries so it would not be so forward. It had been a long time, and you had only a few hours together where you knew of each others feelings before he left. This whole thing was unfamiliar territory for you. You knew how to be in love with him from afar, from across an ocean, but had no idea how to do it in such close proximity.

“You look well,” you said. It was a severe understatement.

“You look beautiful,” Hunter told you earnestly, his fingertips gently nudged your hands and you let them latch around yours. Your breath hitched as you felt his warm touch against your hands as he held them assuredly, his thumb drawing circles over the back of your hand. “My sketches and my memory did not do you justice.”

You felt butterflies take flight inside you. “I was worried about this part,” you breathed, too overwhelmed to think about the words that now seemed to fly out of you with no hesitation.

Hunter looked genuinely confused. “Why?”

You swallowed again and averted your eyes, focusing on the concrete next to you. “Because I hoped I would still be what you desired, after half a decade.”

Hunter tilted his head as he moved into your eyeline, forcing you to meet his eye as you both lifted your heads again. His brow was furrowed as he tried to understand. “How could you think I would no longer desire you? Did you not read my letters?”

“I did but…things can change,” you told him quietly.

Hunter’s frown deepened and he searched your face before he shook his head. He let go of one of your hands so he could cup the hinge of your jaw, the pad of his thumb gently caressing your cheekbone, his words quiet but sure.

“Not this,” he told you. “Never this.”

Your heart squeezed. He was not real. He could not be. You loved him so much you thought you might collapse, knees buckling because of how much it consumed you. You leaned into his hand and closed your eyes, breathing in deeply at how nice it was to hear such a thing. To know his heart remained as mountainous as it was when he left. When you opened your eyes again, you saw his brow was drawn together, his lips pressed together. You needed them on yours desperately.

“No,” you agreed, breathless.

You tilted your chin up a little, gaze falling to his lips, a silent begging for him to kiss you. You watched his eyes move to your lips and his words came out as he stared at them.

“I have something…I need to ask you,” he said slowly, like he was nervous, like he was reciting words he had practised. You felt your whole body ignite. He met your eyes once again. “I suspect you know what it is?”

“Yes,” you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper in disbelief. You knew what he was going to ask, and yet you felt yourself thrum with anticipation for hearing the words out loud. “I waited,” you told him.

Hunter nodded, a mirthful smile on his face, like he could hardly believe it either. “You waited.”

You smiled and you both gazed at each other. The warm glow of the lamp lit the side of his face untouched by his birthmark, and the ballroom felt like it was on a different planet, it was so far away. Only the stars were your witnesses above you, glowing dots painting the sky. His hands were warm on you, tethering you to him. It was just the two of you, in the maze – where you both began, and evidently, would be where you continued to be together.

“Marry me.” His husky voice spoke in the space between you, and those two little words made your heartbeat race and your stomach flip over. “Please. I…adore you. It would be my greatest honour to be wed to you.”

Tears of joy stung your eyes, and you unleashed an unbridled smile that you did not dare hold back. You nodded your head quickly, eager to tell him your answer, which you need not take time to consider, you’d had five years after all.

“Yes,” you laughed. “Yes, I will marry you.”

You watched Hunter’s face light up, joy stretching his mouth wide and squishing part of his port wine stain into a triangle on his cheek. He laughed happily as he brought his other hand to your face and pulled you in for your first kiss in five years.

Your hands moved to clutch his lapels as you kissed him back. You had dreamed of kissing him again, and it felt surreal to finally be doing it. His mouth was still as hot, gentle and coaxing as you remember, and you felt yourself pressing into him as he slanted his mouth over yours. You couldn’t stop smiling though, your mouth tipping up involuntarily with your immeasurable happiness as you kissed him. In response, Hunter’s mouth did the same, chuckling before he pulled back. He shook his head and kissed you chastely before he spoke again.

“In the morning, we’ll find the vicar. I don’t want to wait,” he said, his voice hoarse but full of conviction.

“Neither do I,” you agreed, watching the way the moon illuminated his curls.

“It’s been long enough. To be apart from you for any longer,” he pressed his forehead into yours. “It would be agony.”

“I cannot be without you another moment,” you told him before bringing his lips down to yours again. Hunter groaned as he kissed you, his hands travelling down towards your waist as he pulled you flush against him. You moved your hands to the nape of his neck, fisting the hair there. Hunter groaned again before he wrenched himself back, breathless. Apparently, he still had things to say. Could they not wait? You had struggled with words before, why did he want to say them now when there was kissing to do?

“Your father cannot disapprove of me.” he rushed out, like he was telling himself, reassuring himself. “I am no longer poor. He will let us marry.”

You smiled softly at him. All this doubt he had held, all these thoughts and apprehensions that had held him back before, they no longer existed. There was no war to fight, he was no longer destitute, Meg was well and he’d already set up a trust for her. His brothers were safe. And so was he. Everything had been taken care of. Hunter could finally allow himself to have something that he wanted. Something completely his own that did not require anyone’s opinion or approval. He had been a mountain for everyone, and now the storm had passed, the sun shone on his heart and there was no need to be worried about his family.

Though none of it had been a burden to him, Hunter could finally breathe, and he wanted to fill his lungs with you.

You brushed some hair off his forehead. “Even if he did disapprove, I would marry you anyway. I am yours, in whatever circumstance. I always have been.”

Hunter smiled, his expression soft and full of adoration. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you told him moments before Hunter brought his lips back to yours.

Hunter wrapped his arms around you and made a soft sound as you pressed into him. You felt his mouth guide yours open, and you let him, trusting him implicitly as he gently moved his tongue against yours.

You hadn’t kissed him like this before, but the hot wet of his mouth was obscenely wonderful and you were quickly obsessed with how it felt. You tried to stroke your tongue against his in the same motions and felt him moan into your mouth.

“Heavens above,” you felt him mumble as he dragged his mouth away from yours, moving it down your neck as he left open-mouthed kisses across your skin. You tilted your head back, mouth open as you caught your breath, overcome with the feel of his mouth on places you had only read about. You felt between your legs begin to get hot as you cradled his head to your neck, and when you felt him nip at your collarbone, you to let out a high-pitched cry. You were sure you were going to collapse any second.

“Hunter…” you panted.

Hunter moved across your collarbone, kissing the swallow of your neck as he did. His hands moved from your waist to hold your ass, his palms squeezing there. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you watched him move down towards the swell of your breast which spilled up the neckline of your gown, pressed by your corset.

He kissed the crease between them. “My love, if you will permit me.”

“Do whatever you wish with me,” you hastened to say, desperate for him not to stop.

Hunter did not need to be told twice before he kissed along the neckline, the soft flesh of your breasts meeting his lips. You mewled as his tongue lulled out and licked, before his teeth sunk into them.

“Hunter!” you moaned, head falling back.

You felt his hot breath on your now wet skin. He pulled away with a groan.

“My love, can I…can I please?” Hunter looked at you.

You blinked, trying to remember how to speak. “Can you what?”

“Can I feel you there? I fear I will perish if I do not,” he begged, eyes pleading like if you refused him, he might actually fall apart.

“I told you, do whatever you wish with me.”

A low sound came from the back of Hunter’s throat as he lowered to his knees in front of you. “Sit down on the bench.”

You followed his instruction and then he bunched up your gown before placing a hand between your legs. When you felt his fingers brush against your extremely wet folds, you whimpered and he groaned, a guttural sound that travelled right to your centre.

“Oh, Christ, you’re fucking drenched,” he rasped, moving his fingers against your seam. You panted, clutching his shoulder as pleasure travelled like lightning through your entire body. “And this is all for me.”

“All yours,” you whispered.

Hunter groaned again and pulled his fingers away. You whined at the loss of touch and then watched as he placed his fingers, wet with your slick, into his mouth. You whimpered as he moaned, his eyes closing as he tasted you.

“God, you’re heavenly.”

“Hunter,” you said breathlessly.

He wet his lips. “Can I taste more?”

“Stop asking and just do it,” you said quickly.

Hunter moved under your gown and you slid towards the edge of the bench a little more, hands gripping the stone as you felt his breath on your pussy. You cried out loudly when the flat of his tongue licked up your folds. The sensation was obscene and you felt like you were ascending when you felt his mouth move on you. You shuddered, indecent sounds coming from you as he licked and sucked, tongue moving across your most intimate part. You said his name like a chant as he moved his mouth and tongue expertly, his arms encircled your thighs, forefingers toying with the edge of your stocking, and you felt his moan vibrate against you.

“Hunter,” you strangled out, the sensations moving through you taking away your ability to utter anything but his name.

He placed your knees over his shoulders and continued to move his mouth on you. Your grip on the stone bench tightened as you leaned back at a new angle, your nails digging into the grains of the rock as you panted, the pleasure blooming inside you so heavenly you could barely put words to it.

Hunter’s tongue moved through your folds before he sucked on the small nub there. You jerked, yelping as he run his tongue over it, gently sucking as he continued to pull pleasure from you. You whined as he artfully moved his mouth over you. How was he so good at this?

You had only read about such things in novels, the descriptions making you blush and tingle all at once as you imagined what it would be like to experience it. You had experimented on your own, of course, too curious to wait until Hunter had returned home to feel the pleasure the heroines felt in your novels. But nothing you did to yourself felt as good as this.

You clenched your knees around his head and felt your body begin to shudder as the familiar coils of heat began to build in your stomach, but this time more intense than what you’d felt on your own.

“Hunter,” you told him breathlessly, intending to say more but the words felt like they were floating in a mist above you, and every time you tried to grasp them, they alluded you. “I’m–”

You heard him groan under your skirts, voice muffled between your thighs and under the silks. “Let go.”

You felt his tongue flick that nub, his hands on your thighs tightening as he performed one last ministration that caused that pleasure to erupt from you. You cried out, hands clutching the bench so hard you thought there might be indents in the stone as you came apart on his tongue. Your legs shook and your chest heaved as you moaned and whined, head thrown back as Hunter’s tongue lapped at you. You weren’t sure if the stars above you were real, or ones he had made you see.

As the pleasure waned and your body’s aftershocks slowed, you felt Hunter remove your legs from his shoulders and he fumbled with your skirts as he re-emerged. His curls were a mess, and the port wine stain on his cheek was flushed a deep purple from the heat of being under your skirts. He panted, his mouth glistening with your slick, but his eyes were bright, invigorated, like performing cunnilingus on you had energised him. He licked his lips and smiled lovingly at you.

“Amazing,” he told you, his tone awed. “Is that the first time you’ve come?”

You felt heat rise up your neck. “No.”

Hunter’s eyes widened in surprise. “No?”

“Well, I got very tired of waiting for you.” You shrugged innocently despite your face flaming. “I had to take matters into my own hands.”

“Christ,” he said, the words scratching out of his throat roughly. “Are you serious?”

You met his pleading eyes. “Yes.”

Hunter buried his head in your lap and groaned. “I can’t believe I had to stay away so long.”

“Never again.”

“Never again.” He leaned up and kissed you languidly, and you could taste yourself on his lips.

He stayed kneeling on one knee between your legs, your skirts bunched up to your hips as he kissed you, his hands moving up your body back to your breasts. You gasped when his fingers curled around the neckline of your bodice, fingertips brushing the swell of your breast, skin burning.

“Can I take this off?” He tugged on the edge of the neckline. “Please.”

“Yes. Yes, please,” you practically begged him.

You felt his hands go to the ties at the back of your dress, and he deftly tugged them loose as he brought his mouth to yours again. You felt the fabric of your dress loosen before he retreated to pull the dress off from the front, moving it down your arms. You watched as Hunter rumpled the fabric and threw it to the side so it was out of the way.

You were glad the night was warm, now that you were only in your corset over your chemise and stockings. You watched the garment fall to the ground as Hunter let out a growl of frustration.

“Why are there so many layers? I need more of your skin on my mouth,” he grumbled. You giggled as he started to unlace your corset.

“What is it they say? Patience is a virtue?”

“I’ve never been virtuous and I’m not about to start now,” Hunter rasped as he opened your corset, your breasts falling to their natural position under your chemise as they were no longer held up by your stays. You let out a breath of comfort.

Hunter smiled ruefully. “Better? How tight did your maid tie you up?”

“Tighter than usual. I had someone to impress.”

Hunter grinned and kissed your breasts through the thin cotton, your nipples tightening and pointing through the fabric. “I’m always impressed by you.”

You smiled and kissed him once more before pulling away. “It hardly seems fair that I’m almost indecent while you’re basically fully dressed.

Hunter laughed heartily, a sound that made your chest squeeze. He kept smiling at you, still on one knee between your legs as he pulled off his coat, bunching it up and throwing it into a pile with your dress. He pulled off his cravat roughly and started to unbutton his waistcoat when your hands reached out to stop him.

“Let me,” you told him quietly and your fingers brushed his. You started undoing the buttons of his waistcoat, quiet between you. You felt his eyes on you as you unbuttoned and when you looked up to slide the garment off his shoulders, he was gazing at you with this look you couldn’t decipher. Perhaps it was adoration.

You threw the waistcoat on the pile and Hunter was only left in his shirt, breeches and his boots. You smiled as you ran a hand slowly down the neckline of his shirt, your fingers touching his sternum and the nest of dark curly hair there. You remember watching him train in this years ago, and now here you were.

You met his eyes and watched his eyes smile at you, softening at the sides as he started to untuck his shirt and unbutton it, his eyes never leaving your face.

You watched, mesmerised as Hunter shrugged the shirt off and revealed his bare chest. You took in a breath as you realised how muscular and broad he was. The tendons of his shoulders and collarbones were taut and strong, and his stomach flat except for the raised muscles in a six formation. His hair extended across the expanse of his chest and down into his breeches, but what surprised you the most was the port wine stain that appeared on his face also travelled down his torso, painting one side of his chest a beautiful burgundy across his brown skin. You traced your fingers across the outline and watched the way he shivered under your touch, goosebumps erupting across his skin. He was sculpted by the Gods; Michaelangelo had surely modelled the statue of David from him.

“You’re beautiful,” you breathed, fingers trailing down his chest before you met his eyes, a small smile tugging the corners of your lips.

Hunter’s eyes widened for a moment at your declaration before his lips twitched, like they itched to smile. He placed his hands on the sides of your thighs, the thin cotton a poor barrier for the heat of his hands as he rubbed circles into your skin.

“You think so?” he replied quietly, like he didn’t quite believe you.

“Yes,” you told him, your smile turning big. “Heavenly. That’s what you are.”

Hunter studied for face, his expression pensive before he spoke.

“I’ve heard people say this–” his fingers skimmed his face and down his chest, knocking yours, “–is the mark of the devil.”

You frowned. “Who said that?”

“People. When we were children. I…faced ridicule. And in turn, it marked my brothers. It got worse when Crosshair was born, and the stain across his eye became known. We were outcasts already, but this made it worse.”

Your heart broke thinking of Hunter as a child, facing ridicule for something he could not control, for something that made him unique. If he was protective over his family now, you could only imagine back then. What a silly superstition. How could anyone look at Hunter, see how he was with his family and with others, and think he was anything but an angel? No mark upon his face should dictate who he was.

You shook your head and pressed your hand against the centre of his chest, right above his heart. You felt it beat steadily under your palm, the rhythm matching yours. You met his eyes.

“They could not be more wrong,” you told him softly in earnest.

You felt his heartbeat speed up underneath your palm, making you smile. You watched an expression pass through his face. Was it relief? You felt his hands on your thighs squeeze before he captured the hand that lay on his chest between both of his and kissed your palm softly.

“That’s…very nice to hear.” You heard his voice break a little as he spoke, his mouth pulling into a sincere smile that conveyed so much love, you felt you might burst with it.

Hunter leaned in and captured your lips in his once more, this kiss slow and passionate as it told you without words the depth of his feelings for you. You pulled him closer as you deepened the kiss. You let him drape your arms around his neck, and he shifted so his hands grabbed your hips. He pulled away only for a moment, his lips murmuring into yours.

“‘M gonna switch us,” he mumbled. You only nodded, and a laugh rippled from you as Hunter hoisted your body against his. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist as he swiftly switched your places, so he sat on the bench and you straddled his lap. Hunter pulled you in so your centre was pressed against the ties of his breeches. It was a scandalous feeling that flowed through you as felt Hunter’s bulge against you. You gasped as he let out a strangled sound. You pulled back to look at him, a mix of an amused and tortured smile on his face as he looked up at you.

“Oh, I like this position,” you told him.

“Yeah? Me too,” he said and buried his head in your neck, kissing there as he pulled your body against his again, rocking you into the hardness of him through the cotton of your chemise. You moaned, feeling your folds slick again, despite only coming a mere five minutes ago.

“Hunter, I need you,” you told him.

Hunter groaned into your collarbone. “I need you too. I’m out of patience.”

You felt him shift his hold on you, so one hand held you at the small of your back and kept you from sliding off him, and the other quickly untied the fastenings of his breeches and shifted them down slightly. You slid a hand down between you, fingers knocking against his as you felt his cock spring up against his stomach. You gasped when your fingertips brushed his length, the skin hot and hard. He groaned and wrapped his hand around your wrist.

“Please.” His voice practically trembled.

You looked at him and watched the way his eyebrows had slanted down at the ends, his mouth parted. You slowly grazed your fingernails against his length and he jerked underneath you.

“Christ,” he panted.

You wrapped your hand around his length, the way you’d read about, and you heard him groan. Both his hands went to your back, clutching the gaping fabric of your chemise. The way he was reacting only made your stomach tighten and your folds flood with wetness. And you’d barely touched him.

You looked down between you and saw the head of his cock had pooled with precum already. You circled your thumb over the small slit there, coating it and Hunter hissed, head burying in your neck and teeth biting the meat of your shoulder. You moaned, heat running through you. The hilt of his cock was nestled with dark curls and you shifted your hand down and up. Hunter cried out, head falling back as he looked at you, eyes bleary.

“My love, I’m so worked up right now, I will not last if you keep doing that.”

“What?” You feigned innocence. “This?”

You moved your hand again the same way, squeezing a little this time, and Hunter’s eyes screwed shut as he yelped again, shifting your body closer to his. Your centre chaffed against your chemise which rubbed against his cock.

“Christ.” His neck strained before he reached up and smoothed a hand over your hair. “I need to be inside you.”

Nerves and excitement fluttered through you at his words. You had read about such things, of course, and had wanted so badly to experience sex with Hunter, but now being presented with the very situation you had dreamed of happening with Hunter filled you with uncertainty. You wanted this to go right, for him to enjoy himself with you.

“I need that too,” you told him.

“It…It might hurt a little at first,” he said, hand smoothing your hair again. “We’ll go slow. And you tell me to stop and I will.”

You smiled at his concern, his care. “I trust you.”

Hunter smiled at you and pulled you in for a lingering kiss before he pulled away. “Lift up for me, sweet girl.”

You placed your hands on his shoulders and raised yourself on your knees, the stone bench beneath them digging in a little as butterflies swooped in your stomach. Hunter lifted you against him, hands under your thighs as he moved you both to the ground.

“Next time we do this, it will be in a bed,” he told you, his voice light with mild annoyance. You laughed as he lay you back against the pile of clothes you had created, a makeshift mattress out under the stars.

You looked at him as he leaned over you, body in between your legs, dark curls falling over his shoulders and hanging down. The lantern by the bench provided a warm orange glow, but the moon did most of the work, lighting up his hooked nose and gorgeous face. With the stars behind him, you placed his hair behind his ear with a smile, in awe of him.

“What is it?” he asked, mouth lifting into a smile. You felt the lines of his smile stretch under your hand on his cheek.

“I love you,” you told him simply because it explained everything.

He smiled, and you felt his skin heat before he bent to kiss you once more. He kissed you deeply, tongue sliding against yours before he pulled back. His eyes stayed on you, a soft reassuring expression as he bunched your chemise around your hips, spread your legs so you were completely open to him and positioned himself. Your heartbeat quickened as you felt him at your entrance.

“Are you ready, my love?” he asked, his voice as soft as his eyes.

You let out a shaky breath before nodding and biting your lip.

Hunter nodded and in a hushed voice, told you to try and relax as he slowly pushed in. He moaned, face screwed as he sunk himself inside you, hands tightening on your hips. Despite your slickness, the stretch caused some pain to bolt through you and you hissed, your hands curling around his forearms.

Hunter immediately stopped, eyes flying open as he looked down at you with concern. “Are you okay?”

You nodded and took a breath. “Keep going.”

Hunter watched your expression as he slowly moved further in until he was fully seated inside you. You screwed your eyes shut, fingernails digging into his arms, and you felt one of his hands rub up and down your thighs as you adjusted to the feel of him inside you. It was full feeling, but not overly uncomfortable. The books you’d read glossed over this part.

You felt embarrassed, waiting a moment for your body to be okay to keep going and opened your eyes as you rushed to say, “I’m sorry, I’m just–”

“Hush,” Hunter told you, silencing you gently, his expression soft. “We have all the time in the world.”

You let out a breath before he continued, mouth tipping up at the side. “Though the way you’re squeezing me…”

You grinned, a laugh bubbling out of you. “Good?”

“Incredible,” Hunter sighed.

You both laughed together like it was the most natural thing in the world. Hunter brushed some strands of hair back as he looked down at you and you felt yourself and your anxieties ease. He was so incredibly special.

You shifted underneath him as your body had grown used to him. “I think you can move now.”

“Nice and slow,” he confirmed with you.

Both you and Hunter made sounds of pleasure as he started to rock into you, pulling out a little before moving back in, the movement becoming more fluid and easy as he kept going. Hunter’s grip on your hips guided the movements, and you moaned as the nub of your folds bumped against him.

“Christ, you’re so pretty like this,” he told you as you moved your hips against him to match his thrusts. “Can’t believe you’re mine.”

He bent to kiss you once more as he slid inside you again. His hips rolled into yours in easy languid motions, his cock moving in and out of you. You moaned, fingers clawing his back as he began to quicken his movements, thrusts now steady and hard as the pleasure built inside you. You stockinged legs coming up and sliding around his waist, one ankle pushing in at the small of his back to pull him in deeper.

Sex with Hunter was much better than anything you had ever read, better than your own fingers. His thrusts confident yet never painful, his hands firm but never hurting. The sensation of his cock sliding in and out of you was unbelievable, and you were so glad you were able to experience such a thing with him. That he survived the war, and your love for each other had endured. And now, under the stars, he took you in a way that showed all his love for you.

You’d both been patient for this, and he may have said he had never been virtuous, but the way he was making you feel right now felt religious; the feverent way he held you and loved you was almost sacramental, the angel he was.

Hunter’s grip on your hips tightened and you watched the way his need for you eclipsed his features. It was an expression you liked and wanted to see more of. His pupils blown, mouth parted, hair messy. It pleased you to know that you made him like that.

The only sounds that filled the night were both of your moans and groans and the slap of Hunter’s hips against the backs of your thighs. Hunter’s movements increased, as did the husky sound that came from the back of his throat with each one. Hunter’s grip moved to take your hands from his shoulders, pressing them next to your head as he laced your fingers together. Each thrust buried him inside you, the hilt of his cock brushing your nub enough that you felt the heat in you rising, coiling in your stomach. It was intoxicating, and you never wanted him to stop.

“I’m…I’m so close, my love,” Hunter panted, a sheen of sweat glistening on his brow in the moonlight.

“As am I,” you told him breathlessly, hands squeezing his.

“Where?” he asked, and you felt him twitch inside you, on the cusp of it.

You were familiar with the question; your novels prepared you for this part. “Inside,” you told him without an ounce of hesitation.

Hunter groaned, his pacing stuttering. “Are you certain? It could–”

“Yes,” you cut him off. “Please. I know the risk and I am unbothered by it.”

Hunter’s face fell into your neck, groan vibrating against your skin, teeth nipping there gently. “Christ,” you heard him mumble. “You’ve ruined me.”

After several deep thrusts that you felt hit the furthest part of your core, he faltered and you heard him cry out as he stilled, and you felt him spill inside you. His hands tightened on yours, palms pressing together they may as well be fused.

You gasped, moaning as he shuddered above you, no longer able to hold his weight fully, he let himself drape his body on top of yours. Warmth pooled between your legs, and you rolled your hips against the hilt of his cock. Hunter hissed at the moment as he caught his breath, lifting his head to look at you with hooded eyes. Hunter stayed seated inside you as he slowly unlaced his hands from yours so he could shift off you slightly and lift himself up enough to slide a hand between your bodies.

“Your turn,” he told you before he slanted an open mouth kiss over your lips as his fingers brushed your nub, making you jerk and gasp into his mouth.

His fingers circled there slowly at first before they increased, rubbing with his fore and middle fingers which were coated in your slick. You felt the pleasure rising rapidly and you barely had time to say anything before you fell over the edge, that pleasure erupting from you as you cried out, mouth open under his and eyes shut. You shuddered and writhed underneath his body as he drew out your orgasm, legs trembling as you squeezed his length still inside you, making him moan into your mouth. The feeling was indescribable, more intense than your previous orgasm had been, and you clutched at his forearm and shoulder, wishing this feeling never came to an end.

You were completely his, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Then his fingers slowed, and your body came down from its peak, limbs feeling like jelly. You opened your eyes to see his brown ones staring back at you, noses knocking as you both smiled, feeling each other lips stretch with your own.

Hunter placed one last kiss on your lips before he pulled back. You laughed lightly, too happy to fully conceal it. You pushed his hair back and bit your lip. Hunter smiled down at you, birthmark flushed, then bent to kiss your cheek.

“So beautiful,” he whispered.

Your face heated as he slowly slid out of you, the loss of him a dull ache as your body readjusted to the empty feeling. Hunter rose to his knees and tucked himself back into his breeches before reaching out to adjust your chemise, hands running down your stockings once he had. He smiled and shook his head at you.

“You should see how you look right now,” he said, a rueful expression painting his face.

Your hands flew to your cheeks, pressing your fingers against the hot skin. “Why?”

“You’re an angel,” he said, fumbling for his cravat to wipe you and his fingers with.

“No, you are,” you told him as the silk fabric slid across your folds.

Hunter laughed and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Did I go too hard?”

“You were perfect,” you assured him, the soreness between your thighs a common symptom post-coitus, according to your books.

Hunter lay next to you and propped up on his elbow and you turned a little to face him, smile unable to leave your face. He smiled lovingly at you, and you at him. He opened his mouth when a deep baritone bellowed from somewhere outside the maze.

“Hunter! You better get back here! The Commodore’s looking for his daughter!” Wrecker’s voice carried over the hedges.

You covered your mouth to stifle a laugh. Hunter smiled and shook his head.

“We better go,” he said, sitting up then standing and holding a hand out to you.

“How long have we been gone?” You asked, taking his hand. Hunter pulled you up with such strength you fell forward into his arms, pressed against his chest. He caught you easily.

“Long enough,” he said. “Can’t keep him waiting.”

You looked up at him reassuringly when you saw his expression turn thoughtful, hands on his upper ams and circling the skin there with your thumbs. “He will be pleased.”

Hunter smiled at your words and you returned it before pressing a kiss to his jaw. “I’ll need your help to lace me up.”

Hunter’s smile turned into a grin, his teeth white in the moonlight. “I’ll be gentle.”

“You always are,” you told him placing your lips to his one last time before the secret of the two of you would be revealed, and your always with Hunter began.

this is the last part of falling for mr. batchbury, but please let me know if you would like to see more of the batchbury brothers...because these are a delight to write! otherwise, i have more fics coming so stay tuned! thank you for reading and supporting me!

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