#i just want to exist peacefully is that really too much to ask

[earmo-imni]

I! Really! Hate! Fucking! ANXIETY!

[calypsocolada]

how they are when they're jealous... ft. giyu, mitsuri, obanai, sanemi, rengoku, tengen, & hotaru

authors note: hello. with this new season of demon slayer i felt inspired. lemme know if you guys want more. i sort of went a little crazy with tengen's and hotaru's little stories. ENJOY!

cw: lots of death talk in hotaru's part, maybe slightly suggestive, not proofread

wc: 5k

click here for my masterlist

Giyu hides his jealousy way too well. You two had worked together for a very long time. The first few months of knowing him you didn’t even know if he knew your name let alone that you existed to him. He was not very open so you left him alone the best you could. That was until one day you were eating peacefully and he came and sat next to you. You were stunned, your chewing paused as you slowly looked over at him. He was sitting cross legged beside you, quietly opening his wrapped food. When he noticed you looking he paused and met your eyes.

“Hm?” He hummed, as though he sat next to you all the time. As though you two had said more than three words to each other in months. You didn’t want to scare him off so you just gently shook your head. 

“Nothing.” You answered, looking back down at your food, swallowing nervously. Giyu returned his look to his food and out of the corner of your eyes you saw him pause. 

“Are you… friendly with Sanemi?” He asked. You furrowed your brow, chancing a glance at him. He met your eyes with a curious stare. 

“Sanemi?” You repeated. He nodded his head once. You purse your lips. You were friendly with all the hashira’s except him but you didn’t think that was exactly what he was asking. Well to be honest you weren’t really sure what he was asking so you decided to play it safe.

“Hmm… yes. He’s a friend.” You answer. His face doesn’t reveal anything as he nods his head again, looking back at his food. You wonder if you answered correctly as he suddenly pulls out a little white sweets box. The very same sweets that you would buy as a treat for yourself after missions. 

“Just a friend?” He asks as you nod your head, blushing slightly. Giyu looks relieved and hands the sweets over to you without a word. 

“Oh… for me?” You ask and he nods his head. When you reach to take it your hands brush and you swear his cheeks pinken.

-

You didn’t think Mitsuri ever got jealous until a few years into your relationship. You two often had missions together which meant you also had time off at the same time. Hiking to the swordsmith village to relax. After settling in you two hit the kitchen. The only thing that could rival your love for each other was your love for food. There were a few other hashira’s around and when you couldn’t pop a jar open you handed it over, sighing, to the closest person, which wasn’t your girlfriend. Shinobu popped it open for you and you continued to help prep the food. That’s when you noticed Mitsuri pouting and when you met her eyes she blushed and looked away embarrassed, returning to helping prepare food. You didn’t think much about it but at dinner she was quiet. You wanted to ask if something was wrong but you didn’t want to embarrass her in front of the other hashira’s so you waited until you two were headed back to your shared cabin. Once out of ear shot you reached and tucked her hair behind her ear so you were able to see her face. 

“Is something wrong?” You asked, still blushing she shrugged it off, shaking her head.

“No… nothing’s wrong, dear.” She answered quickly. It was an obvious lie.

“Did someone say something to you? To make you upset?”

“No… it’s… nothing important.” She said with a soft shake of her head, like she was trying to trick herself into forgetting about it. You laced your fingers with hers. 

“If you're upset then it’s important. Come on, just tell me.” You prodded gently. She gave a little sigh and you could tell she was a little embarrassed but still she opened up to you.

“I’m strong… you know,” She starts, wearily looking over at you.

“I know that.” 

“I can open things. Lift things…. You know, you don’t need anyone else to do that kind of stuff.” Slowly you nodded your head, trying to understand what she was saying. “I just wanted you to know that.” You gave her hand a gentle squeeze and that’s when it hit you. You absentmindedly let someone open a jar for you. It really was a small thing but you knew Mitsuri liked to be strong for you. You turned to hide your smile, you pulled her hand to your lips and kissed her knuckles. “That… reminds me, honey, I’m exhausted…” “You want me to carry you?” She asks excitedly as you softly laughed, nodding your head. MItsuri sweeps you off your feet with ease and you can tell she’s forgotten all about being upset.

-

Obanai doesn’t necessarily get jealous, it's more of a territorial thing. You thought for sure he hated you, little did you know he worshiped you from the start. Sometimes you’d have missions with him and he'd speak about three words to you and sometimes when you were lucky he’d speak full sentences. You didn’t know until later on it was because he was so damn nervous around you. On this particular mission, after slaying the demon, you two went out for drinks. It was wholly awkward so you excused yourself from the table and found your way to the bar. The bartender thanked you for helping with the demon and it felt nice to talk with someone. This whole thing played out for maybe two minutes before the bartender froze, eyes fearful as he glanced behind you. You furrowed your brows and turned as Obanai approached. 

“We received another mission, we should get going.” He says as you sigh, nodding your head, he placed some money on the counter for your drinks.

“T-the drinks are on the house.” The bartender offered but Obanai just slid the money over, his eyes sharpening. You watched the whole thing, sort of speechless. When you followed him out he held the door open for you and gave one more heated glance at the bartender. The village you two were currently stationed at was quiet and peaceful. 

“Where are we headed next?” You asked as you fell into step with him.

“A few towns over.” He answered and you nodded your head, knowing that was just about as much talking you're probably getting out of him tonight. “Unless you wanted to stay.” 

“Stay here?” You asked, he was walking a few steps ahead of you. He didn’t answer. “I wouldn’t have minded having a few more drinks.” You joked.

“With that bartender?” He added and you didn’t miss the bitterness in his voice. You paused, deciding whatever you said next you had to tread lightly. You could tease him or you could clear things up. 

“At least he talks to me.” You said. He stopped, turning to face you.

“Anything enlightening?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You said and he raised his head just slightly.

“I would.”

“I’m joking, he was just thanking us for taking care of that demon.” You said truthfully as Obanai nodded his head, turning away from you as you walked. You didn’t want the conversation to end. Even though you two never talked much before you found yourself wanting to hear more of his voice, wanting more of his attention. Unwittingly you had all of his attention most of the time. You couldn’t think of anything to say.

“You make me nervous,” Obanai says over his shoulder. “That’s why I don’t talk much.”

“Oh,” You were stunned. He turned to face you again and you gave him a soft smile, you wanted him to feel comfortable with you. “Is it because I talk too much?” You ask. Obanai instantly shakes his head ‘no’. 

“Don’t stop. I like the sound of your voice.” It almost sounded like a plea.

-

Sanemi lets it be known he’s jealous, he doesn’t care to hide it. Someone’s talking with you, smiling and laughing a bit too much with you? There’s Sanemi saddling up beside you, hand sliding around you to rest on your hip as he pulls you a bit closer to him. He’s shameless. When he first met you, you were in training to be a hashira under Tengen and Sanemi would watch your workouts sometimes. He’d always watch with this sort of intense expression and sometimes it caught you off guard and distracted you. In those moments Tengen would take you to the floor, huffing. 

“I’m going to ban him from our training sessions if you can’t focus.” Tengen said, he straddled you, pressing you into the dirt as you cleared your throat.

“I’m so sorry sir, it won’t happen again.” And at least for the rest of practice that day you kept your eyes on your teacher. But after Tengen was finished with you he ruffled your hair.

“You’re a force to be reckoned with if you keep your eyes off the wind hashira.” He said and you turned bright red, unable to chirp back at him so he laughs heartily and waves as he leaves. You sigh, turning as Sanemi grabs a practice sword. You watch as he swings it around before pointing it towards you. 

“Tengen’s a handsy guy. Already has three wives but watch out and you’ll be his fourth.” Sanemi stated dryly. You were exhausted from training and the way Sanemi moved closer to you you wondered if he was wanting to train you a bit himself. Sanemi circles you like a predator. You feel his eyes on every part of your body as you swallow dryly. When he walked back around the front he tossed you the sword and you caught it with ease. He grabbed a sword himself. 

“I… am exhausted, Sanemi.” You huffed and he gave you a heated look. 

“One round.” He points the tip at you. You swallowed down a sigh and pointed your sword right back at him. You weren’t bad by any means but you weren’t even close to the level of a hashira. Sanemi worked around your blade with practiced ease and you realized right there and then that Tengen was certainly going easy on you because Sanemi had backed you up in seconds and took you to the ground. He pressed himself against you, his sword against your neck. Your eyes glared up at him.

“Alright you won, can I go rest now?”

“Has that lousy sound hashira taught you anything?” Sanemi questions. He was obsessed with this. He saw the look on your face. “Ditch him, I’ll teach you from now on.”

“I’m not doing that. Tengen is a good teacher.” You defended. Sanemi pulled the sword away from your neck and with swiftness pulled you to your feet. He doesn’t let go of your hand though and the closeness to him has your heart beating wildly in your chest. 

“I’m better.” He says as though it's a well known fact. You wondered what his motives were and what his grudge was against Tengen. 

“What’s this about?” You ask and watch his eyes leave yours as he shamelessly looks at your lips, scanning what he wanted to before meeting your eyes again. This simple act wreaked havoc on your systems. 

“I think it’s pretty clear, I want to teach you myself.”

“Why though?”

“Tengen doesn’t deserve to. That’s why.” He pulls you to him suddenly. “Do you understand?” His voice was low and soft, eyes searching. He was trying to tell you something with his eyes. He sighed, you guessed he needed to be more clear with his intentions so he gave a small shake of the head and dipped his head to meet your lips with his. You sucked in a breath as he kissed you hard enough to prove his point. You understood now, albeit a little late.

-

Rengoku’s jealousy is healthy. He trusts you fully but doesn’t trust anyone who would come up and flirt with you when he’s right there. A lot of people come up and talk with you and you're completely oblivious to their flirting so Rengoku will intervene to save you. On your very first date the waiter at the noodle place you two were at flirted with you practically the entire time. Rengoku didn’t get angry, in fact it made him smile that no matter how much flirting was being done you’d still be leaving this restaurant with him. But the moment the waiter stepped over the line and made you clearly uncomfortable Rengoku cleared his throat. He didn’t yell or make a scene, he just simply gave the waiter a fiery glare. The waiter was gone within seconds. You looked at your date, giving him a knowing and thankful smile. 

The only time jealousy fully got under his skin was when he came back from a long mission and caught sight of you eating lunch in the courtyard with Giyu. He felt his cheeks burn at the sight. One thing Rengoku loved just slightly less than you was food. And what he loved more about it was eating it next to you. But here you were, eating it next to someone else. Sure it was childish but logic never really came into play when jealousy took over. When you walked back to your shared room and caught sight of his red hair your face completely morphed into light as you sprinted across the room and slammed against him in a bone crushing hug. He’d been gone for at least two months and it was almost unbearable.Rengoku, despite pouting slightly, wrapped you in a hug with the same vigor, breathing in your scent. You two stayed like that for a long moment. 

“I missed you. When did you get back?” You asked, muffled against his chest.

“About an hour ago.” You pulled back at that, looking up at him. He wanted to mope but the moment your eyes met his smile so wide fitted to his lips. 

“An hour?” You asked. “Why didn’t you come find me?”

“I saw you eating with Giyu, just didn’t want to bother you.” He says and knows he was being silly earlier. But being apart from you for two months had made him weary and heartsick for you. 

“You could never bother me. Never.” You doubled down, pulling his face to yours, proving your point with a kiss. He mumbled an apology against your lips before you smiled into the kiss. When you pulled back you slightly smirked up at him. “Was that jealousy?” You asked as his entire face went beet red and you knew you were right. You tilted your head to the side. “Kyojuro…”

“I’m sorry,” He says, tightening his hold around you. “We’ve been apart far too long.”

-

Tengen also hides his jealousy pretty well but hides it behind jokes. You could not stand him when you first met. You were nothing like him. Liked the quiet, liked the dark, liked your solitude. Tengen on the hand liked you. He liked how quiet you were and wanted to diminish the dark for you and snatch away your solitude. You liked your personal space and he also liked your personal space. 

You grew up an only child with cold parents in a depressing town so when you met Tengen and he was flashy and warm, naturally you sulked away from him. He tried everything. He bought you your favorite sweets and relished when you’d give him the smallest of smiles that looked more like a grimace but he’d take what he can get. He’d find you books to read and insist that you read it to him in return and when you begrudgingly agreed he’d melt into a puddle and sit as close as humanly possible. And when he’d pretend to fall asleep on your shoulder he really felt as though he could combust. 

He’d never chased after someone so hard. 

You were so elusive, just out of reach. When you met his wives they all adored you in the same way he did. It scared him though, you weren’t one to put yourself out there. You didn’t like many people and being with Tengen meant you’d be with four people at all times. Though the times that you were around and happened to run into him and his wives you didn’t seem overwhelmed. In fact the first time he saw you actually smile, like eyes crinkling cheeks blushing smile was when Hinatsuru pulled you into a hug and told you how pretty you looked. The only jealousy he felt then and there was not being able to have that smile directed at him. But after seeing that smile he finally realized it was possible to make you smile so let the teasing begin. Suddenly Tengen was around all the time. You didn’t notice it at first but suddenly he was everywhere. Teasing you, overtly flirting with you, towering over you and trying so damn hard to make you blush and smile the way his wife did. 

It was exhausting for you. All this attention. What was even more exhausting is pretending that you didn’t want Tengen. There was a war within you. Wanting to be alone and wishing to never be alone again. Tengen and his life was the polar opposite of yours. Everything you couldn’t stand but found wanting to tolerate, wanting that shine in your darkness. Things all came to a head when you were at a fork in the road. Tagging along Tengen’s mission versus Giyu’s. To you it was an obvious choice. Tagging along with Giyu meant not really having to talk the entire time. And when you told Tengen things spiraled.

“So you got a thing for the quiet ones? Should’ve known.” He teased with this sort of practiced ease. He looked wholly unaffected by your decision.

“I don’t have a thing for anyone.” You corrected, you had been cleaning your katana when he found his way into your room somehow without your objections. Maybe it was all the time that you were spending with him things were just slowly becoming comfortable? 

“You’re breaking my heart, sunshine.” If looks could kill Tengen would be long long dead. It wasn’t the first time he called you that nickname and it certainly would not be the last. Unfortunately.

“I’m very busy, you know.”

“Busy thinking of your mission with the stoic Giyu?” He teased and you breathed in and let out a huff of air.

“You are relentless. Is there something you want to say?” You ask over your shoulder. He’s uncharacteristically quiet behind you so you turn just slightly. Tengen is looking at you in the same way he’d been looking at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Tengen looked at you as though the light only shined on earth because you held the sun in place. You looked away and begrudgingly ignored that flip in your chest.

“You like him better than me.” And… he’s back to teasing. Well two can play that game.

“Yes I do.” You answered bluntly.

“Now you’re really killing me, Sun-”

“Nope. No nicknames. I’m not a pet.” He laughed at that, a warm laugh that you didn’t know how badly you wanted to hear again. 

“I bet he isn’t able to get under your skin like I do.”

“You’re right.” You said and heard Tengen stand from where he was sitting. You go slightly rigid as you feel him walk closer to where you’re standing. He barely brushes against you as he looks over your shoulder. You try to continue to work like this was unaffecting you but your walls were slowly crumbling around you. There was only so long you could pretend you didn’t want a good thing. And Tengen was sure as hell a good thing. 

“Giyu’s quiet. You won’t have an ounce of fun on his mission.” 

“Killing demon’s isn’t supposed to be fun.” You throw back and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he responds.

“It is with me.” You roll your eyes and turn to tell him to get lost but when you turn and look up your faces are millimeters apart. Maybe even less. Your words falter and for a moment all you can think of is if you moved just barely forwards your lips would meet his. “Cat got your tongue?” He said huskily just loud enough for you to hear. It turns your insides out, burning you up from head to toe. You wanted to ask what he really wanted but it would ultimately be a stupid question. Tengen had never hidden his intentions from the start. Only you had. He pointedly moved his eyes to your lips but didn’t move any closer. You knew then and there he was practically handing over the reigns. If you wanted him you’d have to make the next move. You had a penchant for letting things pass you by. It was like you were begrudgingly obsessed with not letting yourself have anything. Love never seemed like something attainable. Friendship seemed like a lot of work and family never felt like family. “I’ll wait forever, if that’s what you want.” He whispered, interrupting your thoughts. Your heart hurts at that. You weren’t being fair. Making him wait forever was a selfish thing to do and even with all those things he still looked one hundred percent serious when he said it. He wouldn’t get tired of you. He could be the one to stick around for good. He could be the good. 

“I”m still going with Giyu. I already promised.” You said.

“Break the promise, Sunshine, I’m practically begging.” As his face slightly dropped you leaned forwards and closed that gap that you had gotten far too comfortable with. Lips sliding against lips.

-

Hotaru was downright scary when he was jealous. Holy shit you were scared out of your mind. Your destroyed blade laid in pieces in front of you. Your heart was in your throat. You felt a hand on your shoulder as Rengoku gave you a reassuring squeeze. 

“Tough break, kid.” He said with a shake of his head. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“The last time I broke my blade he yelled and ranted for three hours and passed out from lightheadedness.” You said, remembering the whole ordeal with a shiver. Rengoku shook his head.

“Your blade broke for a noble cause, make sure to tell him that.” He said, giving you one last squeeze before turning to leave. You bent over and grabbed the shattered remains. You were dead. Dead dead dead. You had so much life to live. You had sweets in the fridge that Mitsuri made for you. You had finally learned a few new cool tricks to use in fighting. You were visiting home next month. You sighed, gathering up the broken pieces in a cloth. 

“I will pay you double… no triple the usual amount, please I beg you.” You had your hands clasped together in front of you as though silent praying. The night before last you had an idea. There was more than just Hotaru that could make you a blade in the village so if you enlisted someone else to make you a sword just this one time Hotaru wouldn’t lob your head off your shoulders.

“Mr. Haganezuka  would kill  me, bring me back to life then kill me again if I made a sword for you.” The villager trembled at the mere thought. He was clearly just as afraid of Hotaru as you were. You swallowed dryly.

“He would never know, please I beg you.I’ll give you any amount.” You begged but the villager just shook his head.

“He would know because it’s you. Any other client I might do it but you… absolutely not. You’re his favorite!” He said, looking over your shoulder as though Hotaru would enter his shop at any second.

“What does that mean! The only people that would know would be me and you! Please I will literally do anything!”

“And me.” A voice behind you says. Your blood goes cold. Slowly you turn around and sure enough there’s Hotaru. You’re caught like a deer in headlights. The villager actually screams and scrambles away, startling you. Hotaru’s expressions are hidden behind his mask so you’re not sure whether or not he’s angry quite yet. You’d seen his face once a few years ago when this peaceful village was attacked. You were surprised in the moment that someone so intense could look so beautiful. That didn’t dull that fact he was scary though. 

“Mr. Haganezuka! W-what a surprise!” You choke out, cheeks going fuchsia. “Lovely weather we’re having today isn’t it?” You squeak out. Hotaru slightly moves his head and you force yourself not to bolt out the door screaming like the villager. You’re a hashira for god sakes! But to be completely truthful, Hotaru was scarier than any demon you’d ever faced. 

“Very lovely. What brings to our village?” He asks, his voice scarily calm. You force yourself to give a terse smile.

“I- I came to relax of course!”

“Relax at my competitor's shop?” He asks and there is a sharp edge to his voice. 

“Competitor? Wha? I didn’t-- I did not know you two were competing!” You nervously laughed it off, running a quick hand through your hair. “We-- we go way back. I was just visiting for a second before hitting the hot springs!” You say and start to walk towards the door but Hotaru’s hand juts out, blocking you from leaving. You freeze, you’re so close to him, he towers over you and when he turns to look down at you you feel weak in the knees. Slowly he brings his hand up, untying the back of his mask as it falls into his waiting hand and you’re met face to face with Hotaru once again. The years had passed but he still looked as beautiful as ever. You definitely make a sound, a strangled gasp, though if it was from fear or surprise no one would ever know. 

“You… two… go way back?” He grits out. God… you’d done it now. You should’ve just went to him in the first place, accepted his scolding and went about your week. But here you were, ten feet under and you weren’t even sure after this debacle if he’d fix your sword for any amount of money. You cleared your throat.

“Uhm… y-yes?” 

“Yes?” He repeated and the look on his face was as sharp as the sharpest katana. You were so dead. Goodbye family. Goodbye sweet treats. 

“How… far back?” He asks. You stare at him. How far back? He caught you in the lie and you wished instead of twenty questions he’d just yell at you. 

“Just like… a year.” You lied, Hotaru’s eyes narrowed on yours. The intense eye contact was insane. You almost forgot to breathe. 

“You’ve known me longer than.” He articulates sharply. Your lips part, you're stumped for a moment. 

“Uh… y-yes, sir, I have.” You stumble. 

“Yet instead of coming to me, who you’ve known far longer, you go to my competitor to fix the sword that I made you.” Ah fuck. The color absolutely drained from your face. 

“What?” You shook your head. “N-nuh uh! I-- I was just visiting like I said.” At the end of your sentence he holds up the cloth that had the broken pieces of your sword. You patted your bag and gasped. How the hell did he get that! “It-- that-- It’s not what it looks like, Mr. Hagenzuka! I-- well you see it broke… honorably of course… and I was coming to you-” Hotaru raised his hand to silence you and you instantly stopped talking. This was it. This was the end. Killed by your swordsmith. If you were quick you could probably wrestle back a piece of your katana and end your life before he could. 

“If you ever break your sword again,” Hotaru practically growled.”And go to my competitor, I will-”

“Kill me?” You filled in.

“Kill him.” He fumed and then he reached for you. God he was gonna choke you out! His hand slid against your cheek and when he leaned in you sent out a final goodbye. 

His lips met yours. His lips. Pressed against your lips. He was kissing you. Kissing? You? Your eyes were wide open. You had watched the whole thing in slow motion. Sure enough the moment heated as he stepped a bit closer to you, hand sliding around your hip to yank you a step closer to him. The most startling thing? The heat that suddenly ignited in your gut at the press of his mouth on yours. You made a startled sound in the back of your throat at the strange realization. What the hell was happening? When he pulled back your eyes were still open. Looking up at him as though he’d just smacked you right across the face. 

“You… just kissed me.” You say. He doesn’t answer you with words, just nods his head, still looking pissed. “On the lips.”

“Yes.” He says sharply. 

“Like lips on my lips.” “I’m aware of what I did.” Hotaru groans, looking down at you.

“Am I dead?” You asked, patting yourself for any life threatening wounds, Hotaru watches you, looking unamused. 

“No. You are not dead.” “I… was dead sure you… were going to murder me. Like… bloody murder.”

“Why in the world would I murder you?” Hotaru asks, crossing his arms.

“B-because you… because I broke my sword and schemed to fix it behind your back with your competitor.” You say slowly as though he doesn’t remember the last ten minutes. But he just looks down at you like you’re saying something incredibly apparent.

“Yes. I know.” He growls but his anger doesn’t necessarily seem directed at you as he sighs heavily. 

“I am… very… confused.” You force out. Your brain felt melted in your head. Hotaru looks down at you and for a moment so quick you could’ve missed it his eyes look… soft? No… that had to be a trick of the lights.

“You’re my client. No one else’s. Got it?” He punctuates seriously. You nod your head quickly. What the hell just happened?

[voxslays]

hello!

Can I please request a vox x g/n reader where vox is really jealous of readers cat, like if the reader was sleeping and cuddling with the cat vox would move the cat and replace the cat's spot with himself.

Please take your time

(Thank you for requesting anon! I really appreciate it! <3)

The Cat Vs. The TV Vox x Reader

Warnings: None.

Vox opens your door, sees you, and smiles softly as he looks at your sleeping form. Your white persian cat asleep on your chest. He silently walks closer to your bed side and looks down at you and strokes your hair. The cat opens its blue eyes and looks up at him. He couldn't help but feel jealous. He wanted to be in the cat's spot so badly. He wanted to be the one cuddling with you and making sure you were safe.

Vox watches as your chest rises and falls with your breath, as your eyes move under your eyelids while dreaming. He watches as your mouth opens and closes, taking in and letting out air while you sleep. He watches as your arms and hands twitch and move slightly. He couldn't tear his gaze away from you. He would stand there all night if he could, just watching you peacefully sleep. He reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

As Vox gently brushes your hair out of your face, he finds himself tracing your features. He traces the curve of your jawline, then your cheek, then your lips.... His jealousy for the cat is almost overwhelming.

You start to stir from your sleep. Vox quickly pulls his hand back, hoping he didn't wake you up. He stands there frozen, waiting to see if you'll stir again. He watches intently, almost holding his non-existent breath. ​​As you start to move around in your sleep, Vox gets nervous, thinking you're about to wake up. He silently curses to himself as he watches you closely, praying you don't wake up just yet.  He's still jealous that a mere cat gets to lay in your arms, while he is forced to stand there and admire you from afar.

“Vox…?” You say groggily, still half asleep. As you say his name, his heart skips a beat. He's both happy and a little taken aback that you noticed him standing there. He hesitantly takes a step closer and speaks softly. "Hey, sorry if I woke you.." He says quietly. “It's fine…Did you need something?” You ask, eyes only half open.

He shakes his head a little. "I just wanted to see what you were up to. You weren't with Vel and Val, so I wondered where you were.” His tone is a mix of concern and a small hint of jealousy, even though he tried to hide it. “You seem stressed. What's wrong?” You ask politely. He hesitates for a moment, considering lying and saying nothing is wrong. But he knew there was no point, you always saw right through him. "I...I don't know. Just feeling a little off I guess. It's dumb.." Vox trails off. “It’s not dumb. We can talk about it if you’d like.” You offer, grabbing his hands and holding them in your soft grip. He sighs softly and looks at you.

"I guess I.. I just wished I could be the one cuddling with you. instead of that cat... I feel like an idiot, being jealous of your cat." You laugh softly. He feels his cheeks heat up a little out of embarrassment. He huffs with a small, forced chuckle, feeling even more self-conscious.  "I told you it's stupid. I'm being a jealous idiot…jealous of a cat for getting to cuddle with you.." He says the last part quietly. 

“Well get over here.” You motion for him to come over to you. He freezes for a moment, surprised by your invitation to cuddle. He then smirks softly and steps closer to your bed "You... want me to cuddle with you too?" Vox stands there in shock for a moment. Did he hear you correctly? Is this real? Either way, he doesn't want to miss his chance. He quickly walks over and lays in bed beside you. He hesitantly wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck (as much as a TV can.)

He takes a deep breath and savors the feeling of being so close to you. He feels safe and calm being able to hold you in his arms, the jealousy from earlier fading away. He takes another deep breath and sighs happily. He gently cuddles you, rubbing small reassuring circles on your back as he feels his jealousy from earlier completely fade away. He enjoys the sound of your breathing and the feeling of your skin against his. You spent the night enjoying eachothers company.

[darkstarofchaos]

Okay. While we're talking about EarthSpark S1 problems that have been made worse by S2. Why is Megatron special?

One of the weakest parts of EarthSpark for me has always been the fact that Megatron is the only Decepticon known to have defected. Later on, Cons like Breakdown, Tarantulas, and even Starscream added some nuance by showing them willing to risk themselves for non-Decepticons, though understandably, none of them were willing to defect at that point. But even though such Cons clearly existed, none of them defected along with Megatron, or at any other point during the war.

And Megatron's own defection was just... It's painfully obvious that he was developed to be a Good Guy and didn't have a lot of thought put into what he was like as a Decepticon. By his own admission and Starscream's assessment, he was a violent leader who ruled with fear, but all it took to make him change sides was... Seeing a human care more about his side than he did? That's it? And if that is why he changed sides, he clearly took the wrong lesson away from that, because he still doesn't care about what used to be his side. Instead of trying to do better by them, he abandons them. And then all he has to do to make Optimus trust him is... Scan an Earth altmode. Really.

It all feels very weak to me, and doesn't adequately explain anything. Did Megatron make any attempt to be a kinder leader, or did he just defect immediately after seeing the Error Of His Ways? How did we get from "damn, I don't care about my guys enough" to "my whole cause is corrupt, I'mma go now"? Did he ever try to use his position as leader of the freaking Decepticons to end the war peacefully or steer them onto a better path, or did he just wash his hands of them the moment he considered himself morally superior to them? If he did try to use his influence before bailing, how did he change so much so fast that none of his officers wanted to follow him anymore? Why did he give up on his entire faction and not bring any of the more open-minded Decepticons with him?

There are so many questions that either aren't answered or only get vague suggestions of what might have happened, and the answers we do get aren't enough for me to buy Megatron's redemption. It all feels too fast and too easy, and I do not understand why he could defect from the faction he led but less committed Decepticons just didn't.

And now all of these issues are worse than ever, because all the nuance the other Decepticons had is gone. Now it's just "Y'know, Decepticons. They're evil." Apparently not all of them, because Megatron is still hanging out with the Autobots, Con insignia and all! I ask again, why is Megatron special? Why does he get to change but all the others have to be flat and evil?

The real-world answer, of course, is that he never changed. He was conceived as a good person and ally to the Autobots, and that's how he's going to stay. But you cannot have a "Cons are just evil" story while the ex-leader of the Cons is walking freely in the Autobot base. Megatron's entire character is only possible with the assumption that Decepticons are capable of changing, and trying to revert to Cons Evil makes his redemption weaker than ever. Because it's so painfully obvious that he was written to be a good person and his dark history doesn't actually matter.

[pupyuj]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C6_fxx8Pm0x/?igsh=MWw2MGF0bzgzMjdpYQ==

UHMM?? HELLOOOOO? OBSESSED YUJIN, STALKER YUJIN,CRAZY YUJIN💦

HEHEHDHDHCJ i thank the lord everyday for the existence of accendio mv bcs EVIL!YUJIN??? god i need her. GOOD!GAEUL GIVE ME THE WAND I CAN DISTRACT HER 😛😛😛 also this doesn't have too much smut purely bcs i didn't rlly think it'd fit much into the scenario but there's still some crumbs! 😭

[cw: dubcon (implied), yujin is really creepy and insane]

anon said the words ‘obsessed’, ‘stalker’, and ‘crazy’ and i just immediately thought of those admirers that go too far with their crush on that one person and yeah.. sounds like something yuj would be alright 🤪 her being the cool sunbae yujin that’s taken a strange liking to you, literally just some girl 😭 yujin being so confident of herself that she doesn’t waste energy by being subtle at all! constantly waiting by your locker to say good morning, sometimes she even takes you to class, waves at you if she doesn’t have time to talk to you, makes small talk in the bathrooms, the library, the courtyard, the gardens—wait, how is it that she knows wherever you are almost all the time?? 🤔 maybe it was all just a coincidence, yujin knows the campus like the back of her hand after all! 😅

anyway, yujin is very romantic! she knows a lot of things that you like! how? why, she kindly asked your friends.. with a few threats here and there bcs they were becoming suspicious of her intent but the point is that she got the information she wanted, okay? ☺️ she knows your favorite type of flowers, favorite foods and delicacies, and sometimes shows up at your front porch with those exact gifts just for you! 🥰

except that.. you never told her where you lived. not even which part of town your house was in. not even your friends could’ve told her. that’s why they showed up to school with bruises and cuts one day. but turns out yujin found you anyway. like she always does.

that was the final straw for you—you were officially creeped the fuck out! and so you start putting some distance between you and yujin but she didn't like that at all! she started following you around more, practically running after you every time you dash away from her.. she wasn't going to give up easily! 😣😣 you tried to block her from all of your social media accounts bcs she keeps spamming you with borderline threats and pictures of you that she has taken while she stalked you but she was really stubborn!

wouldn't think there would be anything wrong with climbing your house and watching you right next to your bedroom window,, her heavy breathing fogging up the glass with how close she was just to see your clearly,, you looked so beautiful sleeping so peacefully! :(( but you'd stir in your sleep, as if you knew something was amiss beyond your little dreamland.. then you'd wake up and find your window slightly open,, at first you thought that you probably just forgot to close it again but then your eyes snap open at the sight of the figure sitting on your bed,, your first instinct would be to kick it and move away but it was faster than you! it covers your mouth shut and only under the tiniest stream of moonlight did you recognize the person that had broken into your room—ahn yujin!

ofc she wouldn't see a problem with breaking into your home,, doesn't hesitate to threaten you either! saying that she'd hurt you or worse if you were to make a single noise and alert your neighbors. yujinnie just wanted to get close to you! in her head, she has been nothing but kind! why did you insist on rejecting her?! she truly didn't understand, but that was okay. she was going to make you understand! now that she has you all for herself... she can do anything she has been wanting to do! like kissing you (she was very happy when you eventually kissed back despite your initial resistance!), touching you (she always knew your skin was so soft), and ofc, fucking you (you rlly had to make her for work it—kicking and punching and trying to bite her hand... but in the end, yujin got her way with you. like she always will from now on.) 😰

[spidernuggets]

hiii first time requesting (if i could claim 🦚 that’d be awesome) from you!!

anyways,

jason fluff inspired by "chemtrails over the country club" by lana del rey

jason’s joker trauma triggers a destructive spiral, leading to a desperate hunt from you (gf or fiancée or gn idc honestly 🤷‍♀️) and the batfam when he goes missing. found right before he could kill the joker the batfam stops him and is freaking out and he drops to his knees and he’s just kinda numb. you’re the only one trying to comfort him and he’s pushing you away but you start reminding him of the life you two want together (queue the lines from chemtrails: “washing my hair, doing the laundry…” etc etc) and he breaks down and starts crying in your arms.

ok yes it’s a bit of a tear jerker but my brain is screaming that this needs to exist so 🥹🥹

anyways tysm for considering and i hope you have an amazing day regardless! don’t forget to eat and drink water 💋

— 🦚??

Jason Todd x Reader

Note: Really? Aren't you peacock-anon who requested feral jason todd? I'm only asking because you asked this around the same time peacock-anon reblogged feral jason todd and said they were the one who requested it. Anyways, whatever, THANKS FOR REQUESTING ME. If you're not peacock-anon, then I'm afraid you can't claim it :(( BUT ANYWAYS i hope you like the fic 🫶🫶

It was one of those nights. The nights where Jason couldn't stay still in bed, always tossing and turning. He tried, but every time he closed his eyes, he was 15 again. He was back in the dark, abandoned warehouse. He was back in the chair, tied up and unable to move. He was back with the Joker.

Beads of sweat trickled down his forhead. He felt like he was suffocating. He looked over to his side, seeing you peacefully sleeping, snuggled into his chest. God, you were so beautiful. Like a Seraphim that was gifted to him during his loneliest hours when he couldn't find a speck light in his darkness. You were his miracle. His reason for continuing to live.

He's already done too much by letting you stay with him. By letting you love him. By letting himself love you. He felt like he put you in this position; a position where you can't leave, can't be free. You're stuck in a position where you have to stay with him.

Sometimes, you wish he could see the way you see him. A beautiful figure shaped and moulded by the hands of the most exquisite and talented scluptor. A man that could love you like no other has. A man who knows how to treat you well, who knows you can be independent but can stay close to you, at the ready to save you from any danger. He will always be at your beck and call.

He shifts away from you, carefully untagling limbs and sitting up. You stirred in your sleep, hand reaching out to find your boyfriend's warmth. He shushes you, pecking your forhead.

"I'm gonna be on the couch, sweet thing," he said, barely above a whisper. You hum in response, letting your arm fall back onto the bed.

You understood that during some nights, when Jason had bad dreams, he needed to be alone. You tried to help him once, trying to wake him up as his screams were muffled as he slept. His hand accidentally made contact with your face. He didn't realise it, even when he woke up. You tried hiding the bruise with makeup, but to no avail. When he found out what he did, he couldn't talk to you. He wanted to punish himself by not speaking to the love of his life. Even when you tried to tell him it was just an accident or that ot didn't even hurt that much, he couldn't even look you in the eyes.

So soon after he started speaking again, you came to the negotiation that whenever he had night terrors, he would move to the couch. He never wants to hurt you like that again.

But even as Jason laid on the couch that night, staring at the cracked ceiling, his thoughts were running wild. A bunch of drunk men were outside laughing. But he heard the cackles of the Joker. A stray cat knocks over a trash can by the alley of their apartment. But he hears the clink of the crowbar.

His heart races, and his pupils contracted. His breathing is uneven. His mind runs to Bruce. Why didn't he kill the Joker? Why is he still alive? Why is he locked up, only for him to break out again? Where was his justice?

He sits up, looking around the dark room. His eyes move to his hands that were resting on his lap. He promised. He promised not to make any lethal decisions as his role of Red Hood. But the Joker is still out there. He's definitely not in Arkham. Arkham Asylum couldn't keep the Joker in captivity even if it had the best security.

He wanted these dreams to stop. He wanted to stop waking up in the middle of the night, worried that a stupid faced clown was going to break in and hurt you. He wanted to stop waking up in the middle of the night and leave your hold just to sleep on the couch. He wanted to stop waking up in the middle of the night because it was worrying you.

Jason grunts, figuring there was only one way to end this. One way for him to finally feel better and to stay in your arms without hurting you again. Jason stands from the couch, putting his shoes on, and sprinting as fast as he can to his nearest safe house where all his gear is.

You stretch as the morning sun burns your eyes. You look around to see Jason isn't beside you.

"Oh right, he's on the couch," you mutter to yourself. You thought breakfast for him would he nice. A nice wake up to a horrible sleep.

But upon entering the living room, the couch was empty. In fact, there was no 6 foot, 200 pound boyfriend to be seen anywhere. You looked all over the apartment.

That's weird. Jason would've at least left a note or a text. You go back into your room, grab your phone, and scroll to Jason's contact name. But as it rang, you heard another ringtone in the distance.

Your eyebrows scrunch together as you walk out of your room, trying to find where the ringtone was coming from. It led you back to the living room, Jason's phone ringing under a pile of blankets.

You can hear your heartbeat in your head. Jason never left his phone. Starting to panic, you dial Dick's number as he answered within three rings.

"Hey, Y/-"

"Dick! I- Jason's not home! He- he went to sleep on the couch last night - I.. Nightmares! He left his phone.. no note! Gone!" You could hardly form a proper sentence. Your fingers pull against your hair, and you hyperventilate. Dick tries to calm you down.

"Hey, hey. Y/n, don't worry! We'll help you find him, okay? I'll round up the other bats and birds, and we'll look for him. He's going to be okay, okay?" He gently says from the other line.

You take a deep breath. "Yeah.. yeah okay," your voice shakes.

You start your own hunt for him as the Bat Family gear up. The first place you look at is at Jason's closest safe house. Going in, you see that a few pistols are gone from his wall. You run to where he stored his armour, but that's gone, too. You call Dick again.

"Dick! His guns, armour- He's out as Red Hood," you worry more. It's broad daylight, Jason shouldn't be out in his uniform.

Dick says, "Got it," before informing Batman that Jason is out as Red Hood. He then tells you to stay put, and that Oracle will update you when she tracks Jason's location.

You pace around the safe house, anxiously waiting for Oracle's call. You couldn't think of a reason why Jason would be out and why he wouldn't tell you. Jason tells you everything!

Then your phone rings.

It barely rang once before you answered it.

"He's in the warehouse." Is all Oracle said before you booted out the door. You didn't even need the address or specific whereabouts of the warehouse. You knew which one she was talking about. The one Jason died in.

Surprisingly, you showed up at the same time as everyone else.

You all rush inside, checking all the rooms. You were the first one to enter the room. And low and behold, the Joker in the centre, tied up in a chair, just as Jason was a couple of years ago, as Jason stood a couold feet away, a pistol pointed in front of him.

You couldn't tell if everything was sped up or in slow motion. But you screamed Jason's name. It's followed by a loud bang, then a couple of grunts and thuds.

As your vision focuses, there's smoke flowing out of Jason's gun, a hole in the wall where the bullet, and the sounds of the Joker's maniacal laughter as he's been tackled to the floor by Dick and Bruce.

You hear a mutter of 'no's. Your attention turns to Jason. His head is shaking, and his lip is trembling. You notice lis legs wobbling, and you lunge forward to hold him as he falls to his knees.

An echo of choked sobs is heard from Jason as he drops his gun and digs his palm into his eyes while he cries.

"Fuck! Why- Why did you do that?! He- He should be dead!" He tried to yell, but came out as cracked whimpers.

"Sh, sh, I know, sweetie, I know," you whisper to him, running your hands through his hair, just as he loved it.

Jason carries on. "He.. he killed me! He took me away from Bruce... he's gonna take me away from you.."

Your heart shattered. You wish and pray that there was more you could do to help him.

"No, no, no. Don't say that, baby, he's not. You hear me? He's not gonna take you away from me," Jason leaned himself into your comfort further, grounding himself. Reminding himself that you're with him. From the corner of your eye, you see Tim and Steph walking up to the two of you, but you lightly shake your head, a silent plea, asking them to leave you be. Damian walks up behind them, tugging on their capes, respecting your request.

Jason tries to shove you off him. But he's too tired. So he tries ti speak instead.

"Get away," he weakly says. "Get away! I'm - You shouldn't be near me," his voice cracks. "He's gonna come back! He's gonna hurt you! I- I'm gonna hurt you..."

"Hey, Jay," you quietly call out, pulling him closer to you. Jason sniffles against your chest. "Remember that time you got a little drunk? I had to help give you a bath?" Jason doesn't reply. But he remembers. He remembers your delicate fingertips massaging his scalp. It felt nice. He wanted to be in that moment again. "Remember what we talked about? How hopefully Gotham's brutality dies down, and we can run away together? We said we'd own our own house. A small one, like a cottage. You'd be cooking one of Alfred's lovely dishes while I'd hang the laundry out in our garden. We'd have movie nights, eating junk food while crying to the Notebook. And.. You even admitted wanting your own kids. Remember that, Jay?" Your fingers caress his scarred cheek. Your lips hovered over his white streak.

You heard a sound coming from Jason. Like he was trying to speak. "Yeah. Two girls. Two... so neither of them would be lonely..."

You smiled, tears stinging your own eyes. "Yeah.. Jason, nothing bad is going to happen to us. We're going to have the life we want. Nothing is going to stop us. Not even that monster. I won't let it happen. You do such a good job protecting me. But you need to remember that you're safe with me too, okay?" You said to him.

In response, Jason breaks down into more tears once again, clinging on to you tighter. "I love you," he sniffles. "Don't wanna lose you."

By this time, you're now crying yourself. "I love you too, my sweet boy," you kissed his head. "You're never going to lose me. I'm right here." Your hand intertwines with his.

The two of you are wrapped in each other's safety and warmth. Jason is mever going to stop about the horrible possibilities that could occur if you continue to stay with him. He thinks he's selfish for not doing more to let you go. But you're like a magnet. Somehow, through all that loathing he feels for himself, you're always going to find your way through the midst of hatred. You're always going to be there to hold his hand and give him the love that he never believed that he deserves. You're always going to show him that loving him isn't a sin.

Hopfully, this reached your expectations, anon 🥲🥲 But it was a lot of fun to write!! ALSO sorry if this seems short and rushed, I'm really trying to get everyone's requests out 😭😭

[sturnskiss]

florida!!! ! ᥫ᭡

pairing: bsf!rafe cameron x reader

summary: reader’s boyfriend cheats on her so rafe plans to make her forget all about him by taking her to florida.

warnings: no smut, not much, rafe laces someone’s cocaine with fent, protective rafe, i don’t really know 😊

authors note: FIRST RAFE POST!! i know ive only ever posted for sturniolo tumblr but id like to preface my account isn’t solely for them, and i will be posting content for other fandoms as well!

love left me like this, i don’t want to exist so take me to florida

when naive!kook!reader and her boyfriend, a good-for-nothing fuck boy, one to a worse degree than her best friend rafe was, broke up… rafe was more than happy to finally step in.

it was as simple as that rafe couldn’t let that man sleep peacefully knowing that he broke his poor best friend’s heart.

when you showed up at tannyhill, your big doe eyes all teary eyed and smeared mascara running down your cute cheeks, rafe already knew it had something to do with that little boyfriend of yours.

secretly, he had been waiting for this exact moment. he had been waiting ever since you told him that one of the boys he plays golf with asked you on a date. you were just too sweet for him. for any of these boys on the island. no, you needed someone who could really protect you and make you feel feminine and comfortable, something these boys couldn’t do except for him. he knew you better than anyone and had much more to give you than everyone else, but being the naive girl you are, you didn’t see past the friendship.

“aw, baby.” he frowned before embracing you in a tight hug. you wrapped your arms around his neck, silently crying into his arms.

your voice broke, “he cheated on me,”

rafe’s jaw clenched, but he wasn’t surprised. not one bit. “ ‘m so sorry.”

he didn’t ever directly warn you about boys like him. he couldn’t ruin the happiness you had when that guy started showing interest in you.

this wasn’t even supposed to happen, actually. you weren’t aware of this, but rafe may or may not have told every guy who ever expressed interest in you to fuck off. a simple hands-off rule. he’d threaten them, say that if they so much as talk to you, they’d wish they didn’t. only one person dared to test that rule. he started flirting with you and commenting on your instagram pictures. rafe solved that problem quickly and easily by lacing his next bag of coke with a little bit of fentanyl. he didn’t die. it taught him a lesson. taught mostly every boy on the island a lesson, except for your now ex-boyfriend.

so he couldn’t put fentanyl in this fucker’s coke this time because the boy never mentioned you to him. they played golf regularly, never speaking of you. and then one day, rafe picks you up from your house to take you shopping and you excitedly tell him how one of his friends followed you on instagram and asked to take you out. that guy knew what he was doing.

he maneuvered the hands-off rule because he knew rafe would never let it happen.

after a few minutes of consoling you, rafe broke the silence. “y’wanna go to florida?”

you stopped crying, pulled away from the hug and peered up at him. “what?”

he grinned, “i’m serious. let’s go to florida, yeah?”

you shook your head, “that won’t fix anything, rafe.”

truth be told, rafe believes money can in fact buy happiness. and he’d spend every last dime in his pocket if it meant you forgot all about that stupid boy and became happy, especially if it meant you were happy with him.

“it’ll be fun. lemme show you a good time, promise you’ll forget all about him. it would be good for ya to at least get out of the obx.”

“why florida?” you asked, sniffling and wiping a tear. rafe lifted up his shirt, revealing his lower toned abdomen, and wiped your mascara off your face, wiping your nose too. something only dad’s do for their young daughters, and rafe too, you guess.

he shrugs, “why not? we gotta place there. nice place right on the miami coast. just a change of scenery, s’all.”

so the next day, rafe pulled into your house’s driveway. you stood by the front door, a suitcase next to you. rafe smiled as he got out of his car, “only one suitcase?”

“you think i need more?” you asked in a surprised tone.

he shrugged, “i just planned a couple things snd you might need more than a couple outfits for ‘em. s’all good though, we can buy you some more when we get there.” he said while grabbing your pink suitcase effortlessly and placing it in the backseat of his car.

you were completely unaware of rafe’s true intentions by this out of the blue trip to florida. you didn’t think anything of the sweet things rafe did for you. he was your best friend, and he looks out for you. he just cares for you, like any friend would.

once you arrived in florida, being taken there by the cameron’s private plane, the first thing you did was get a fancy facial from a very luxurious med spa. one sarah went to anytime their family visited florida, which is why rafe knew of the place. he paid for you to get the longest, most expensive, and best treatment there was.

afterwards, you guys went out to dinner at a small restaurant on a dock.

you thought he was just being sweet.

you thought he was just being sweet when he bought everything you laid your eyes on in small boutiques and even large luxury stores like chanel and tiffany.

and rafe’s plan worked. by the first four days, your ex’s name never came out of your mouth. the only name on your lips was rafe, and his next plan was to keep it that way.

all that’s left to do was convince you there was someone better for you out there. and that someone was him. you didn’t see it yet, but you would by the end of the trip. he would make you his.

[ryulvrs]

Hiiii!! Can you do a minnie x fem reader where you’re both at an event and you’re cold so she give you her jacket but then she spends the rest of the event thinking about fucking you in it☺️ thank you!!🫶

jacket (minnie, smut)

summary: at an event, minnie gives you her jacket to keep you cold but it leads to an indirect confession of feelings

warnings: dom!minnie x sub!f!reader, gidle 6th member, exhibitionism, teasing

word count: 572

a/n: i might make a part two, this is just a short drabble of some thoughts 😭 sorry its lowkeyyy ass

being in the same group as someone as attractive as minnie was getting difficult to manage. you've always had a mini crush on her, but you didn't realize until recently how strong it was.

it also wasn't clear to you that minnie felt the same way for you. the tension of your mutual feelings was extremely present at your group's recent modeling event.

as the limousine pulled to a stop, the security took a hold of extras and you and your member's held your purses.

the flashes of paparazzi lights instantaneously everyone of you. you notice how minnie winced, even if she wouldn't normally since you were all somewhat desensitized.

you try to catch her eye contact and comfort her, but she didn't seem to notice. the security guided you to your seat, and you would routinely chat with people around you.

"did you notice the breeze?" a celebrity asked from behind you.

"yeah, its a bit cold," you laugh, and bond with them as you rub up and down your arms. the moment doesn't last long before you turn back around to face the stage.

"is it just you two?" the celebrity questioned again.

"no, the rest of my group members are coming back soon." you and miyeon happened to be the only members of gidle actually present in gidle's seats. the rest followed soyeon to a specific booth that had to do with album promotions.

the bright lights of the event would shine as the rest of the open seating areas filled up. you swallow a yawn, as you turn your head to see miyeon sliding closer to you.

she smiles at you and says, "they should be back soon, don't worry too much about minnie, 'kay?" she winks and grabs your hand to give warmth to you both.

"w-what do you mean?" but before she could respond to your question, security returned with the rest of gidle.

miyeon slides over to make room for them, and coincidentally minnie sits next to you. she smirks, but you can tell her mind straight away went to how you were holding yourself because of the cold.

without a second's notice, her arms slip out of the dark, black jacket and her bare hands find their way to placing it on you.

minnie was so nonchalant about this too, she just faced forward as if it meant nothing. your body warmed up quickly, but so did your heart. it wasn't much of a mini crush anymore.

the lights on the crowd dim, and focus the attention on the stage where models begin to enter in order.

their wasn't really any cameras on your section anymore, so minnie found this a perfect time for her fingertips to wander to the hem of your dress, laying so peacefully on your thighs.

you both knew exactly what going through each other's minds. desperation was circling you both, and if you could leave right then and there you would.

her hand drew closer into your thighs, with her thumb playing with the end of your dress. neediness almost pulsated through your body.

whilst, minnie's eyes were seemlessly on the stage. she could fool anyone about the situation if wanted to.

sensation pushed on the lining of your panties, her finger was rubbing onto your clit. "i've wanted you for so long," she whispers. it felt as if she was the only girl to ever exist right there.

[bitethedevil]

Living with The Devil You Know (Raphael x Tav): Chapter 7

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen

Read this fic on AO3 (Link)

Fic Summary: Tav broke their agreement by handing the Crown of Karsus to Mystra instead of Raphael. Not only that, but she also robbed his house and killed his incubus. Raphael is patient and he is determined to get his revenge.

…Tav isn't too bothered. She will figure something out eventually. Until then she just has to find a way to live peacefully with a devil.

Chapter Summary: Tav learns some surprising things about Raphael's past and drunkenly confesses her thoughts and feelings to him. Meanwhile, her friends pay her house a visit to find the Orphic Hammer.

AN: Raphael's little lovestory is taken directly from my one chapter fic called "Portrait of a Cambion" which goes into depth with my slightly depressing headcanon about his past lovelife. It's not necessary to read to understand anything going on it this fic, but you might find some interesting similarities between his former love interest in that fic and our dear Tav (In my head that fic is like a prelude to his obsession in this one)

Tav had been trapped in her own mind since Raphael had left and it was not a nice place to be. She had spent the majority of her life in her own company before the whole tadpole business, and still, she had never felt quite so alone as she did now.

She spent the day sitting in bed, thinking. Thinking about her situation, the last couple of days, Raphael’s reaction earlier in the day, the things Korrilla had said, the crushing thought of the possibility that she might not be able to escape, and the even more crushing thought that a small part of her did not really want to escape…

There were a lot of thoughts and a lot of anxiety to catch up on now that she finally had a moment of solitude to take all of it in. It was suffocating her. It came as a blessing when Raphael returned home and granted her a distraction from it.

She found him in his human form, sitting on a sofa with a stack of papers in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. As soon as he saw her enter, he snapped the papers out of existence and looked up at her with a smile.

“There you are,” he purred and gestured to the spot beside him. “Please, sit with me.”

She sat down. He poured her a glass of wine and handed it to her.

“Did you enjoy your little moment of peace?” he asked.

She sipped the wine with an empty stare, still caught up in her thoughts until she realized he had asked her a question.

“Yes, sure,” she answered quietly. “It was nice...”

Raphael gave her a smile that told her he knew she was lying, but he decided not to push it.

“It was not my intention to scare you so much earlier,” he said instead.

Tav blinked and then glared at him.

“I thought you once said that you never lie,” Tav challenged.

Raphael chuckled at that.

“There is that brave woman I know again,” he said and sipped his wine. “I am not lying. Yes, I did, of course, intend to remind you that there are rules in this house. I would be lying if I said that I did not enjoy seeing you rattled and that I did not use your fear to my advantage. However, I did not expect it to have the effect that it had. Korrilla told me you were almost inconsolable…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Tav answered coldly.

“Hm,” Raphael hummed. “Suit yourself.”

His arm was resting over the backrest of the sofa, and he brushed his fingers gently through the ends of her hair. She swept her hair over her shoulder and away from him. His eyes narrowed slightly at the gesture.

“How was your day?” Tav asked to distract him from it.

“Uneventful,” he said and took a sip of his wine. “Aside from the obvious, that is.”

They small-talked for a while. Each time Tav had finished her glass of wine, Raphael would pour her a new one. Tav knew that he was trying to get her guard down, but she found that she did not care.

It was nice to just drink and forget about all the things that had haunted her throughout the day, and she found that it also made it easier for her to talk more freely with him. She noticed by the time she was well tipsy that Raphael barely seemed changed at all.

“Can you even get drunk?” Tav asked with curiosity.

“I can,” Raphael answered. “Though it would take quite a lot of wine to achieve the level you are currently at.”

He gave her a teasing smile.

“How much?” Tav asked, squinting at him with a smile.

“I could go through a quarter of my wine cellar before you would see me starting to slur and stumble about,” he answered.

“That sounds like a challenge,” Tav said.

“Planning to get me drunk, are you?” Raphael said with a laugh. “I’m afraid that I have outgrown that sort of thing. One does such foolish things when under the influence. You of all people should know that. It’s how you ended up here.”

“To be fair, I can’t imagine it’s that common of a thing to wake up in chains and half-naked in a devil’s house after a night out,” Tav said and took another sip of her wine.

“I think you’d be surprised…” Raphael purred with a suggestive smile, before turning the conversation towards another topic. “I am curious about something, if you would indulge me…What was it that drew you to going home with Cassius back then?”

Tav sighed quietly. She might have been tipsy, but she still noticed how odd he seemed to still be about her trying to protect Cassius from his punishment. She also knew that if she pointed out her suspicions about him being jealous, it would only achieve pissing him off.

“Honestly?” Tav said. “I was drunk and missed having some company, I suppose. It really wasn’t much deeper than that.”

“Hm,” he hummed and looked at her. “Is that something you have done a lot of? Blindly following strangers home to sleep with them?”

“Occasionally,” Tav answered with a shrug. “Just to…you know, sate urges and all that.”

Raphael’s smile widened.

“There has been no regular partners or sweethearts, that could help you sate those urges?” he asked.

“No,” she answered. “I never really dabbled in all of that…”

“Oh?” Raphael said. He seemed surprised by her answer. “Do you expect me to believe that someone whose favorite book is one of the most popular love stories of this age, has never been in love?”

“Not really. Perhaps when I was younger,” she answered with a shrug and swirled the wine around in her glass. “I’ve preferred my own company for the most of my life.”

Until now, she almost said, but stopped herself. Raphael did not need to know that his attempt of isolating her was working wonders. She wanted to change the topic away from her.

“What about you?” she asked. It almost sounded like a joke rather than a serious question because she felt like she already knew the answer. “Have you ever loved someone?”

Raphael raised an eyebrow at the question.

“Once. Many years ago,” Raphael answered coldly, though there was an edge of bitterness hidden in his words. “A mistake I certainly learned from…”

Tav could not hide the look of surprise on her face. He looked like he was serious.

“I thought devils didn’t—"

“They don’t,” Raphael interrupted and smiled. “Not in any way you would understand at least. Our definition of love is quite different from what you mortals would find ideal or even healthy.”

Tav was still a bit dumbfounded. She was just looking at him with a puzzled expression, holding her empty wine glass.

“Does that surprise you?” Raphael asked and gently took the empty glass from her to pour her more wine.

Tav blinked slightly and returned to reality.

“It does…” she mumbled. “Can I…ask you about it or is it a sore subject?”

“Oh please, don’t take me for some soft-hearted mortal, dear,” Raphael said with slight offense, though he was still smiling. “Ask your questions.”

He handed her back the now full wineglass. She looked down at its contents while she was thinking.

“Was he or she a devil too?”

“No,” Raphael answered, surprising her even more. “She was a mortal woman. A human…like yourself.”

The tone of the ‘like yourself’ comment gave her butterflies in her stomach, and she was quick to snuff out the feeling as soon as she felt it.

“Who was she?” Tav asked.

“She was a potential client in the beginning. A painter that had managed to anger the mercenary government of the city she resided in. She achieved this by plastering posters around the city that critiqued the leadership. Needless to say, they wanted her dead and like the savior I am, I of course offered to lend her a hand with getting safely out of the city.”

“So, she gave you her soul, right?” Tav asked.

Raphael made a short laughing sound.

“She all but spat in my face, the stubborn wench. She told me that she would take her chances. To my great annoyance, she did survive and fled to her father’s home far away from the city. However, that did not deter me from still trying to present a deal to her. She might have fled, but the city’s mercenaries would not forget her so easily.”

“Did you succeed?” Tav asked. “Did she give in eventually?”

“She did not, though she grew to like me. She taught me how to paint, as a compensation for the time I wasted on her. I suppose, I grew to admire her during those sessions…She fascinated me and my time with her became a welcome refugee from my endless duties to my father at the time…She really was a remarkable painter as well. She made some of the paintings you see on my walls.”

He just kept surprising her.

“You kept some of her paintings?” Tav asked.

“I did,” Raphael answered.

“I don’t mean to be rude but…I would never have thought of you as sentimental like that,” Tav said quietly.

“I don’t keep them out of sentimentality,” he was quick to say. “I keep them as a reminder of what happens when one gets distracted with pointless pursuits such as matters of the heart.”

“Well…” Tav said. “What happened?”

“As I said, I got distracted and my dear father noticed. I still lived in Cania, you see. The privilege of having lovers or consorts is only reserved for Archdevils. My father saw it as me getting distracted from my purpose of gaining more souls for him, and as me overreaching my station. He put an end to it.”

Tav looked at him. He seemed so cold and nonchalant while telling her this, but she felt that she could see a glimmer of something behind those brown eyes of his.

“He killed her?” Tav asked quietly.

Raphael was quiet for a moment too long. He was staring emptily at the floor as if he was reliving it.

“Not quite,” he said. “He made a warlock of his reveal her whereabouts to the mercenaries hunting her. I found the corpses of her and her father the next time I visited…I burned the house down with them in it…”

“I’m sorry,” Tav said quietly before even thinking.

He looked up at her and narrowed his eyes.

“Feeling sorry for people who have knowingly made the mistakes that landed them in their despair is a useless pursuit, little mouse,” he said darkly. “I never should have let myself feel what I did or at the very least I should have known the consequences and taken the necessary precautions to keep her safe…I was too young and too naïve…”

Raphael sighed and they were both quiet for a moment. Tav was not sure what to say. She was oddly touched by his story.  

Raphael looked at her, seemingly taking in her features with an expression that was hard to read. He reached over and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and this time she did not move away from his touch.

She opened her mouth to say something but changed her mind and closed it. The alcohol made her want to talk about subjects that she knew sober-her would regret. Raphael noticed her little gesture and smiled at her.

“What is it, dear?”

“Nothing,” she said and shook her head. “I’m drunk.”

“You are,” Raphael purred. “The things you and I have done, and you are still too shy to speak freely with me.”

Tav opened her mouth again and then closed it again before she decided on saying what she wanted to.

“It’s just…” Tav said and sighed. “You are so infuriatingly confusing.”

Raphael chuckled.

“Am I?” he asked. “How so?”

Then the floodgates opened and Tav started rambling.

“You tell me that the whole reason for all of this is to eventually kill all of my friends and then me. Then, you have very angry revenge sex with me. Then you almost kill me, but you save me, and you are really weirdly nice about my scars. Then, we have sex again, but this time it’s not angry, it’s oddly tender and sweet…”

Raphael’s smile was widening the more she started rambling.

“And you mess with my head by gifting me my favorite book and you don’t even mention it, even though it was a really sweet gesture. Then today you don’t brutally torture me for doing something I’m not supposed to, but you were however, once again, being weird about the fact that I did not want another person to get brutally tortured. And now you tell me this incredibly devastating story about how you lost someone you loved…”

Tav sighed in frustration as she was finishing her drunken rant.

“I mean what the fuck?” she mumbled to herself.

Raphael opened his mouth to say something, but Tav decided that she was indeed not finished rambling.

“No and you know what? It makes me feel so stupid and confused because I cannot figure out what is going on. I should be hating you but instead I found myself missing you today and you-…you are fucking doing it on purpose!” Tav said with a bit of anger and pointed at his smug face accusingly. “I know you are! You are trying to manipulate me, and I’m aware that you are, but I still find myself liking you! I know you are playing me like fiddle, but I still find myself wanting to be near you. Wanting your attention. Wanting you to kiss me on the mouth instead of just on my neck and all those little stupid little things that you tease me with to make me like you! I—”

“Do you want me to?” Raphael asked calmly with an amused smile, looking at her lips.

“To what?” Tav asked, annoyed at getting interrupted in her drunken rant.

“Kiss you,” he said and leaned in slightly closer.

“Oh, and now you’re just trying to shut me up and not even address—”

He interrupted her by pulling her into a kiss and she felt her heart beating ten times faster. She melted into him, despite herself. Her fingers tangled in his hair, like his were in hers. It was a hungry and passionate kiss. It felt as if they had both been waiting a long time for it.

All her worries seemed to melt away for a moment as she got lost in him.

Astarion sighed tiredly and leaned up against a wall while he watched Gale work at trying to remove the magical protection on Tav’s house. Gale had a look of pure concentration on his face while he tried to figure out what kind of warding magic was guarding her house.

“Gods, you look silly waving your arms about like that,” Astarion commented. “I could never be a wizard.”

Gale ignored him. Astarion sighed dramatically at the lack of reaction from him.

“What is taking you so long?” Astarion asked impatiently. “And what is she even trying to protect in there? Her dusty old books?”

“Some of those ‘dusty old books’ are very rare and very precious tomes, and many wizards would love to get their hands on some of them, which is why this is taking so long,” Gale said, frustrated with Astarion’s impatience. “She has taken all precautions to keep them safe.”

Astarion looked at him with a tired expression.

“Why is it even necessary that I am here if it’s all guarded by magic?” Astarion asked.

“Because I suspect the lock will be protected somehow. A simple Knock spell probably won’t work on it. It has to be lockpicked, which most likely will not be an easy task for you either,” Gale said. “As I said, she has taken all precautions.”

Astarion started pacing around in circles behind Gale.

“This seems like an awful lot of work to put into retrieving a hammer that we cannot even bring to her,” Astarion said.

“It’s not about bringing it to her,” Gale explained while squinting at the glowing magic on the door. “It’s about making sure we have it and that it is safe. If she is wearing the same constructs as Prince Orpheus, then that hammer is her only way out of Raphael’s claws. We should keep it close, just in case.”

“It seems perfectly safe where it is, given that we cannot even get to it!” Astarion said with a hand gesture that accidentally knocked over a potted plant that was placed on a pillar beside the door.

Gale winced at the sound of it crashing to the ground but did not move his eyes away from what he was doing.

Astarion looked down at the broken flowerpot and dirt that was now sprawled on the ground. He saw something in the dirt and leaned down to pick it up.

“Move,” Astarion said and moved in front of Gale.

“What are you—?”

Astarion placed the key he had found into the keyhole of the door. It made the lock glow and the door unlocked.

“She didn’t take all precautions it seems,” Astarion said with a smile and walked inside.

Gale huffed and followed. He used a spell to light up the candles she had around her house.

Once light fell over the living room, the both of them stared at the shelf where they had seen the Orphic Hammer on the other few times they had visited her.

Astarion pointed to the empty shelf and then looked at Gale with a furrowed brow.

“That seems…not good…” Astarion said.

Gale made a sharp inhale and tried to calm himself.

“Perhaps she has simply redecorated,” Gale said, sounding like he did not even believe in that himself. “We need to search through every corner of her house. It has to be here.”

Their kissing session had unsurprisingly made them end up in Raphael’s bed. They had sex and it had once again felt oddly loving and sweet.

Tav was resting against Raphael’s chest with his arms around her. He placed a kiss on the top of her head. She felt so comfortable. Her drunkenness made her overthink the situation less for once and she felt so content.

She had butterflies in her stomach from it all. She could worry about the reality of it all tomorrow. Tonight, she wanted to pretend that everything was fine and just enjoy his sweet attentions.

She tightened the grip of the arm she had around his waist, pulling him closer and nuzzling her head against his chest. It earned her a satisfied groan that almost sounded like a purr from him. She felt him burying his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply, and taking in her scent before leaving another kiss.

“You should sleep, dearest,” he purred against the top of her head.

That was a new one, Tav thought. He had never called her anything other than ‘dear’ or ‘mouse’. ‘Dearest’ made her heart beat slightly faster again.

“Mm,” she mumbled and traced her fingers over his stomach. “In a little while. I’m not in any rush to feel the headache I’m going to have tomorrow.”

He began massaging her scalp with his hand. It felt like heaven.

She kept lazily tracing patterns on his stomach until she suddenly heard Gale’s frantic voice in her mind.

“The hammer is gone. We searched your entire house, and it’s gone, Tav. We won’t stop looking, but we cannot find it.”

She froze.

“Something wrong?” Raphael asked softly. She could have sworn she felt him smile against the side of her head.

Cassius was the first suspect to spring to mind. He had motive to steal the hammer from her house, but he would never have succeeded entering with his very limited knowledge of magic. No. That was not it.

The uncomfortable truth clicked in her mind. Raphael had not made a fuss about her contacting her friends and he had very suddenly had a change of heart about her being guarded day and night. When he was teaching her to play the organ, he had seemed so happy for some reason and something he said echoed in her mind:

‘I closed a deal that has been quite the headache for me and successfully retrieved something of mine.’

Her heart started beating faster again, but now out of anxiety instead of infatuation. She was suddenly very sober. He had made a deal with someone with enough magical knowledge to break into her house and remove her only chance at escape.

She tried to slow her breathing and act calm.

“No no…” she mumbled. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“You know,” Raphael said and placed another soft kiss on the top of her head. “It is quite easy to know when someone is receiving a sending spell…”

Her blood ran cold.

“People have a tendency to stop breathing, when they are listening intently, you see,” he said. “And given the way your heart is pounding, I take it your dear friends visited your house and came out empty-handed…am I wrong?”

She did not answer, which made Raphael chuckle and whisper in her ear:

“Are the puzzle pieces starting to come together, love?”

[scarletsky153]

another plot bunny,,

so i've been reading too much Self-Insert Sukuna AKA SIkuna, and because i've been busy on the mha/bnha fandom for some time, and because i adore crazy crossover story so i kinda want to write a fic about :

a totally random workaholic surgeon who love jjk bcs watching anime is the only entertainment he allowed himself to have, got reincarnated as sukuna without remembering his first life, only some glimpses and liking similar things, and he still became sukuna the sorcerer and then ryomen sukuna the king of curses. after he got separated into 20 fingers (still one of the most hilarious shit that happened), he got reincarnated into takami keigo aka hawks.

his third life as hawks he remembered a lot of shits about being sukuna and his first life (when he also hilariously named keigo), mostly how strong and crazy he was, and how easily for him to destroy villages and humans, and how in his first life he became a surgeon to help people but somehow he became a monster in his second one so the GUILT is very much there, so he very much tried to do everything to use his power, his quirk, for good and become a hero. one of the reason why he's way more mature and capable to be a top three heroes before 25 is because he's old old and he got the advantage of once being the strongest.

in the end, after the war where he thankfully didn't lose his quirk and somehow became hpsc president and start to revolutionized japan heroics, he tried to find out about the old jujutsu society and how the fuck did the curse energy changed so much that even the mundane people able to manifest their curse technique and it changed into quirks. the society pretty much integrated with the 'mundane' because their curse technique also mutated into quirks, and because people use their quirks a lot and controlled their curse energy, in a way, they didn't create curses anymore so in the end geto (and yuki) got what they want, a world without curses and so the jujutsu society wasn't really needed anymore.

but bcs hawks knew the world history very well he also knew that those changes is not without consequences, there will always be quirkist people and in the beginning ppl are afraid of those quirked ppl but thankfully bcs jujutsu society did their job to ease tensions when more and more ppl with quirk born.

when he died as hawks, he was pretty young but not as young as his first life, probably around 35-40yo. but instead of finally resting peacefully in the afterlife, he immediately incarnated back into sukuna BUT this time inside itadori yuuji, while also remembering ALL of his life, first as the ordinary dude who love jjk, second as sukuna in heian era, and third as top hero hawks.

when sukuna took over yuuji to exorcise the curse on top of the school, he freaked out a lot bcs I THOUGHT I WAS DONE WITH THE LIVING WORLD and so when megumi tried to exorcise him he just said "shut it, i'm having an existential crisis, also what year is it now?" before yuuji took over, gojo came and they have their talk.

when gojo ask yuuji to let sukuna take over for prob one minute, he finally gathered enough wit (even tho he still freaked out) to, yknow, just talk instead of fighting each other, and gojo humor him for a bit.

SIkuna : "so sorcerer... sugawara? sugawara descendant? what year is it?"

gojo, amused : "the name's gojo now, and why do you want to know?"

SIkuna, very much done w life bcs he just want to pass to the afterlife : "because dipshit, this is actually my fourth life instead of second, and i want to know if i manage to travel forward or backward in time or even to a different dimension. from the infrastructure and language and the existence of curse energy, I'm still in the same japan and could be around 21st to 24th century. if you would be so kind to answer my question about what year is it today?"

gojo, having so many question because what the fuck did sukuna mean by fourth life??? : "...it's 2018."

SIkuna : "so curse energy hasn't evolve and awakened everyone's curse technique and change it into quirks yet?"

gojo : "...what the fuck."

SIkuna : "yeah, that happened on my third life but i was born around year 2335. someone or something upstairs, probably one of the power-that-be, definitely messed up my reincarnation cycle. it's weird."

gojo (and megumi who listened to the whole convo) : "..."

SIkuna : "oh well, the brat is starting to suppress me, so i'll take my leave and please don't contact me for the next few days because i want to sort out all of my memories first."

sukuna def freaked out a lot of people with his nonchalant attitude and 'i already lived through three way different but similar in craziness lifetime, im not afraid of anything anymore, what more would they do, kill me? been there done that got THREE different trauma', tried to change the timeline and also balancing having THREE separated lifetime worth of memories, trying to not becoming heian-era-sukuna but also knowing he can't be both keigos again, also somehow befriending all of the jujutsu high students (first and second years), being seduced by gojo (who at first doing this only because he wants information but then bcs he likes it), having tea with nanami/yaga while also has three lifetimes worth of rambling about the state of the world (the good thing is we won't die bcs of global warming, but also WHY WAS EVERY HIGHER UP ARE ALL SHITTY PEOPLE), and somehow he did it and save the timeline?????

he also had some talks with yuki (and with gojo too) about curse energy-curse technique-quirks, while also telling them he didn't know a lot of shit bcs a lot of written records got lost during the troubling years.

yuki : "but that means it happened, right? no more curses and no more sorcerers dying."

sukuna : "well yeah, but there's nearly a century full of change. the country all around the world are slow on changing things, esp here in japan. the system isn't perfect and i did spend a decade rebuild the system after the war-"

gojo : "what do you mean by war?"

sukuna : *briefly talk about his job as japan top hero and the war with all-for-one* "...and yeah in the end i prob didnt do much but i do hope my sidekicks, allies, and employees can continue my works and make japan heroics a better place."

gojo : "....sukuna marry me."

sukuna : "HA?!"

yuki : *laughing*

thats... more or less the whole plot i kinda want to write,,, probs gonna add more ha

(feel free to use this long-ass post as inspiration or something!! i... probs gonna write them on ao3, like, maybe??? probably???? yeah,,)

--

Part 2 | Part 3

[loveackermannn]

How do you think Levi sleeps next to you? Stiff as a board? Curled up against your side because you’re so warm and he subconsciously moves towards the heat? Does he allow you to cuddle him? Does he wake from nightmares often? If he can’t sleep will he lay awake stroking your side to remind himself that you’re still with him. What about things like sleep talking or sleep walking? Imagine waking up to find Levi trying to brew tea in his sleep. Standing guard by the kettle in his striped pajama bottoms and loose cotton shirt. I wonder if he hums little lullabies to help himself get to sleep. Thoughts?

☰ SLEEP A WHILE, SWEETHEART. .ೃ࿐𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

this is so so sweet i love this ask!!

levi is a very light sleeper, so even the slightest movement from you would strike him awake at any time. however, it wasn't easy to convince him to sleep in the same bed as you even when the two of you began dating. he was very much adamant that he needed to stay up to finish several documents for erwin, but you maintained your persistence – and just like that, he gave in too quickly.

you noticed how dark his undereyes have gotten and you would gently scolded him for not listening to you sooner about sleeping early. he merely grumbled into your shoulder as you tugged him along and into the shared room in which you mostly slept in – he always ended up falling asleep in his chair until a few hours had passed, you figured his posture must be horrid at this point.

so, you assisted in removing his jacket and loosening a few buttons on his dress shirt. he slipped off his cravat, setting it on his nightstand and slipped under the silky duvet to join you. he laid inches away from you, not making any effort to move closer as he didn't want to seem abrupt.

but, it was when you took his hand into your own that made him avert his eyes onto your tired features and he could feel the tension leave his body – you were just so pretty. his face softened just for you and he couldnt help but ask, "what is it?"

you lightly groaned, half awake and half asleep, muttering the last few sentences that you could manage, "you're too farrr.. come closer, it's freezing you know?"

he chuckled, hesitant and somewhat clumsy at first, "are you sure?"

"of course, my love," you confirmed, rubbing your eyes and inching yourself closer and closer to the warmth of his body.

levi tensed the moment you made full contact with his chest, not even registering the fact that this was really happening. the person he's wanted for all these years was sleeping soundly right by his side because you felt safe enough to do so. he couldn't fathom it, it almost didn't feel real.

though, when he finally moved his arms away from his sides and gently wrapped them around your limp form, it confirmed that this was real and that perhaps he could actually get a good night's rest because of you.

he looked down and upon hearing the quiet breaths that went in and out of your nose, he's never felt more at ease than he is now. he felt the corners of his lips perk up into a small smile that was only ever reserved for you, but since your eyes were closed to notice, he kept it to himself.

from then on, he cherished the nights more than he used to. he'd always been terrified of waking up from another nightmare, but with you by his side, everything seemed a little more okay. he didn't have them as frequently and instead, were replaced by dreams of where you existed in them. your warm smile that had him sinking into the ends of the earth or your tender embraces that had him cling onto the stars.

he got more than just 3 hours of sleep, eventually getting to the point where he could sleep peacefully through the night. he was truly indebted for all that you do, even if you don't realize it.

if there are some nights when he can't fall asleep for any reason, he'll just stay awake, making sure you're at least getting the rest you deserve. it's very grounding for him and it does give him the reminder that you're not going anywhere, you're still alive and well.

he'll word vomit sometimes too – conscious or not. what i mean, is that i can see him sleep talking, but only when he's having a nightmare. when he's awake and can't sleep, he'll just mutter sweet nothings into your ear about how much he loves you, it's very gentle.

"i love you. more than anything in the world, my love."

"my sweet girl. look so pretty like this.."

"for as long as i live, i'm gonna make sure nothing happens to you. i swear it."

and the concept you brought up that if he sings lullabies to help him sleep??! ugh that is just perfect, he most certainly does.

it's mainly songs that his mother used to sing back when he couldn't sleep as a child and it always seemed to work wonders for him every time. it must've been the smooth and calming tone of his mother's voice that put him to rest so easily or maybe it was the comfort it brought him to know that it wasn't all bad – that there was good in the world for him, big or small.

he'd do the same for you, if ever you can't sleep, he'll hum a little tune while you're curled up in his arms – it's a messy collection of different pitches, but nonetheless, the low rumble in his chest and soft ministrations of his hands rubbing your back is enough for you to close your eyes.

as soon as he knows your asleep, he'll kiss your forehead followed by an audible whisper that you're able to make out with the remaining bit of consciousness you had left,

"goodnight sweetheart. see you in the morning."

[strlingsav]

you are a god among us peasants. your writing skills so sublime, you make tears fall from my eyes (and from between my legs); thank you for your service. 🫡

if you’re keen, may i request pain? just angst and maybe death too—if doable. of course, we cannot forget smut; because we’re still thirsty degenerates despite (or is it in spite) the masochism. but if that’s not your cup of tea, then no worries, you feed us well anyway. 🥰

anyway, just wanna say thank you very much for existing and that i look forward to reading more of your amazing fics. may both sides of your pillow be cool whenever you lay on them. 🙏

lastly, im the one who requested for the ‘read more’ bar and tbh, i was not really expecting anything from it. i was expecting it to be ignored and i was fine with it. coz let’s be honest, that was just nitpicking from freeloaders like me and scrolling a few more seconds is the least we can do to thank you for sharing your awesome brainchilds with us. i was just shooting my shot but honestly didn’t expect anything from it. so for you to implement it as soon as you got the ask is just 🤌. thank you. i appreciate you. i hope you immediately find your lost things as soon as you start looking for them. ❤️😘😘😘

LOL, stop it now I'm crying 😭 I can definitely come up with something real angst-y and slutty just for you!!!

You're so kind, I cannot tell you how much I appreciate you, and the validation 🫶🏻🥹❤️

Of course!! It's my pleasure 🤍 Thank you (and a million more thank yous) for the kind words, I hope you enjoy!!

Endings

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— A sweet goodbye turns sour.

Two

Explicit/gory content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

The sun had just barely peaked, a glowing orange hue sneaking out from behind your linen curtains. It must've been early, early enough to catch Simon before he headed out.

You stretched out, rolling onto your side, still beneath the warmth of your heavy duvet. A soft pillow cradled your head, goose down, plush and inviting. You didn't want to wake up- you wanted to give in to the overwhelming contentment. Your hands reached out, your eyes shut as you relished in the comfort of your bed.

Your hand tucked under your cheek as you opened one eye, focusing on the man next to you, his chest rising and falling slowly, peacefully. His skin lit up in the sun-tinged room, glowing softly, an image of pure serenity, nearly God-like.

You sighed softly, your eyes scanning his face. You didn't want to wake him. He needed every minute of sleep. You carefully pulled the covers back, goosebumps erupting at the flood of cold air hitting your skin.

A hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back with a strong tug. Simon enveloped you in his arms, cradling your body against his chest. You giggled softly when his lips nuzzled against your neck, pressing a lazy kiss against your skin.

"You sneakin' out on me?" He mumbled, muffled by your hair.

"Trying to," You smiled. "But you caught me."

He hummed, "Just need a few more minutes."

"I can do that," You said, your legs interlocking with his.

His hands followed the natural curve of your waist, meeting your hips, down your thighs. He pressed a palm against your leg, before running his fingers back through the carved path.

"You're barely awake and already feeling me up," You teased, your head turning to look at him.

His eyes were still shut, though his brows furrowed.

"Always in the mood to feel you up, sweetheart." His hand grabbed at one of your breasts, making you laugh- boisterous and genuine.

"You're insatiable." You shook your head.

"Can't blame me."

He pressed his hips into your backside, his erection pressing into you.

"Good dream?"

He shifted upward, his hand on your waist as he looked over you. Half-covered with the comforter, eyes still blinking slowly as you adjusted to the morning light, a mischievous smile across your face. He loved these mornings, slow and playful, where he could appreciate you in your purest form.

He would miss it- miss you. The first woman to force her way into his life and stay there. He'd grown fond of you. More than fond, if he was honest, but honesty scared the fuck out of him. As did vulnerability. He often worried he'd grow too close to you, open up a bit too much and you'd run the other way.

He rarely spoke of his childhood or innermost thoughts, but you made it bearable. He didn't have to hide it from you, didn't have to pretend he was put-together when he was really tearing at the seams. You'd kissed every wound, loved him regardless.

He loved you. He'd only said it once, maybe twice, too shamefully afraid, but you knew. He'd never known anything like the feeling that made him think of you, all the damn time. Made him want to make you happy, do the nervous boyfriend routine when he met your parents. Become a pathetic sop when he was wrapped in your arms.

He devoured every bit of yourself that you showed to him. Every secret, every terrible thing you'd ever done. He wasn't alone, not when you were there.

His hand reached down your pelvis, inching slowly to press the pad of his finger against your clit.

"Must've been good," You held back a smile, your eyes shutting as you basked in the pleasure of his fingers rubbing circles over the delicate organ.

He shook his head against the hard line of your jaw. "'S'all for you," He said quietly, his lips honing in on yours with a delicate kiss.

You moaned softly, your hand reaching for the side of his face. His tongue slid into your mouth gingerly, gliding against yours.

Your mouths moved in sync, a perfected routine. He quieted your moans with his mouth, shushing you with the use of his tongue.

He moved away, leaving you to chase after his lips, open your eyes to see him.

"You're too good to me," You smiled, your lips parting when he applied a bit more pressure with his fingers.

"I know," He replied. "Y'deserve every bit."

He hummed with approval as he looked over your blissful expression, leaning down to leave a trail of kisses across your neck and chest. His teeth nipped at your flesh, tongue sliding out to soothe the inflicted area.

"Just needed to feel you again," He mumbled. "Gonna be gone for a while."

You tried not to frown, tried not to show your utter disappointment upon remembering these would be your last moments together for months.

Your back arched inadvertently when he sunk two fingers inside you, quickly coated with your liquid arousal. A guttural moan left your lips, his thumb still circling your clit.

Your hand reached to stop his movements, your brows cresting, a pleading expression in your eyes. "I want you inside me."

His lips separated, your words creating a searing heat in his groin. The desperation in your voice tugged at a primal instinct inside him, to make you feel good, and it surely would've brought him to his knees had he been standing.

He readjusted himself, his eyes on yours as he massaged his cock with his hand. He moved slowly, angling your thigh to allow him better access. You curved your back, opening your thighs a bit wider as he searched for your entrance.

You felt the slick head of his cock press against you, easing in gently, your hymen stretching to accommodate his size. Your eyes squeezed shut, lip quivering as you bit down.

He was finally buried inside you, giving a low groan in your ear when he felt just how wet you were.

Your back against his chest, his hand slid around your waist, fingers splayed out over the expanse of your curves.

His hips rocked into you, his hand holding you tightly against him, your head fell into his chest. His other hand found yours beneath the pillow, squeezing tightly, reassuringly.

Your eyes opened, finding his amidst the crescendo of pleasure, watching his nostrils flare as he sucked in deep breaths, utterly dumbfounded by the way your pussy felt like it was made just for him.

You leaned in closer, nuzzling your face against his, soft whimpers leaving your lips when his cock hit your G-spot.

"Baby," You whispered, your hand reaching back to glide into his hair. "God, Simon."

"That's it, love," He cooed, through broken breaths and strained vocal cords. "S'alright."

Your heart stammered in your chest, before pounding harshly against your ribs, threatening to climb out your throat. His grip on your body was unrelenting, a solid reminder that it was him who made you feel that way, that had your hips grinding back against him, silently begging for more.

"'M gonna miss you," You breathed, "So much."

His hand slid down your waist, circling your neglected clit, matching the pace of his wonderfully slow thrusts.

"Miss you too," He sighed. "Always miss you, love."

You were restless against him, finding no solace in the idea that you were close to orgasm, and so was he. It would be over, and you'd have to start your day; leave the shelter of your bed, the place where you could hide from everything and everyone, together.

Your fingers replaced his on your clit, and he took advantage of the freedom, cupping your breasts with his large hand. His fingers ghosted over your perked nipples, listening to your soft moans, savouring the fruit of his labour.

"Simon-" You whispered, broken and breathless, hardly there but loud enough for him to hear.

He could feel your pussy fluttering around him, making him shut his eyes as he resisted the urge to cum. "I'm close."

He continued at his successful pace, trying not to watch the way you unraveled, how your back arched even further into him, your spine curving, how your skin flushed with the rush of endorphins. Your voice breaking out in a long, desperate moan, the sweetest sound he'd ever heard.

He was even closer now- your undoing had lead him right to his climax. His hips paused against your backside, a gust of his warm breath washed over your back as he exhaled harshly. He kept himself firmly planted inside you, still enjoying the addictive walls of your pussy.

He was apprehensive when he pulled away, shifting now to slide you even closer. He wrapped you in his arms again, his lips pressing against the salty skin of your temple.

"Gotta get goin'," He grumbled.

You nodded. "I know."

He'd been packed for a few days now, ready and waiting for the day he had to catch a flight out. You joined him at the front entrance of the apartment building, in your sweats, watching with red eyes and a forced smile as he shoved his bag into the seat of his SUV.

He moved back to you, enveloping you in a warm hug, his hands wrapping around your waist to hold you.

"I'll miss you," You whispered in his ear.

"Be back 'fore you know it, love," He said back, his lips kissing the sliver of skin showing on your shoulder.

"Better be- and in one piece," You tried to laugh, tried to make it easy.

"Behave yourself while I'm away," He warned, his hand sneaking down to take a handful of your backside.

You did laugh that time, genuine and unapologetic while passersby stared.

"Always," You pulled away. "I love you."

His eyes locked with yours, a soft smile forming over his lips- one of admiration and total devotion.

"Love you too."

Your insides warmed, cheeks glowing with pure adoration.

—

Simon's hearing had gone in his left ear- high-pitched ringing in the other. His eyes focused on the smoke, the still-spinning blades of the helo.

That was when he realized he could only see from one eye- blunt force trauma causing a blown pupil and detachment of his retina.

He tried to twist onto his front, at least have a chance at dragging himself to safety.

A searing pain ripped through his thigh as he lifted himself, and he peered down to find his femur poking through the skin, his torn fatigues covered with blood.

He inhaled, shaky and shallow, hardly enough to sustain his racing heart. Low groans of agony rumbled in his chest, his muscles twitching as he held the surrounding flesh of his broken bone. His head ached, throbbing and stinging, not yet realizing he'd cracked his skull, the flesh of his scalp held together by his helmet. Blood pooled on the ground beneath him.

His deafened ear leaked red, severe swelling of the brain pushing against the intact remainder of his skull.

He tried to sit up again, though couldn't find the strength. He was exhausted- dizzy with blood loss and no longer able to move his limbs quite right.

You, he thought, you'd be alone. You'd wonder where he was, what happened. Would they let you see his body? Or would they tell you he was M.I.A? He couldn't decide which would be worse; leaving you with unanswered questions or knowing he was never coming back. Would they tell you how hard he fought to stay alive for you, even if his entire body was begging to let go?

He was shivering, now. His body had started to focus all energy on his fatal injuries, desperately hanging on to any viable organs. It wouldn't work- it couldn't. Not even a goldstar field medic could piece him back together, not enough to call him human again. He wasn't sure if he'd want you to see him that way, either.

Fitting, he thought. Nothing good ever lasted for Simon Riley.

At least he'd told you he loved you. You'd know it was real, that he wasn't afraid anymore. You'd know he gave everything he had, including his trust, his feelings. The thought gave him a moment of comfort- or maybe it was the endorphins putting an end to his suffering. Either way, his chest warmed when he pictured that playful smile, your eyes. He yearned to have you there, holding his hand instead of digging his fingers into the wet earth. He'd made his grave inside you already, resigned to dying with you than without. You'd tell him it was alright, tell him to let go while he couldn't feel an ounce of pain. You were selfless like that.

All he could picture, as the last of his breath left his lungs, as his heart gave up on sustaining a worthless fight, was you. That morning in bed, before deployment, where you'd given another piece of yourself to him, selflessly. As always.

Thank God he'd told you he loved you.

[rockingrobin69]

Beast of a thing

“What can I get you?” asked a loud voice, and Harry rubbed his face till his eyes burned.

“Hmm?” was clearly not the right answer.

“Coffee? Seems like you might need one. And something to nibble on. Sweet or savoury?”

“I,” Harry said, which wasn’t that much better. The—person?—who kept pestering him was smiley and extremely bright-eyed. Leaned down to him over a dark-blue apron, half-conspiratorial, half amused.

“Sweet, I should think.”

How rude. Harry crawled in here to die peacefully, not be badgered about fucking coffee. But a few seconds—minutes?—later there was more bustling, and someone placed a cup right next to where he was holding his head. It smelled hot. It smelled good.

Before he could even make the decision, Harry’s hands grabbed it and—oops—spilled a little, never mind. Yeah, it burned. Yeah, whatever. Harry raised the cup with a shaky fist and sipped something horrible and scalding hot. He felt, absurdly, and for the first time in—he felt a little bit like a person again. How fucking embarrassing. How fucking inaccurate.

“There you go, darling,” this time armed with a scone. The smell of clotted cream made Harry’s eyes roll back, made him choke. The jam was even worse, so sweet he nearly gagged. “This should cheer you right up.”

He nearly, nearly laughed. Was too busy growling, rubbing his pointy teeth against his inner lip. Something in his expression must have finally registered with the perky waiter, since they hurried back, tray cluttering as they hit something. Harry could finally go back to his—

“What now?” to the movement from the corner of his eye, but—the smell hit him first, hit harder. Lemon zest and evergreen forest. Something so pleasant it made Harry whimper, made him close his eyes. The newcomer used this reprieve to sneak into the seat next to Harry, so close their knees were touching.

“What do you want?” Harry asked, or whined. It hurt behind his molars, it hurt in the pit of his stomach. The touch, the unbelievable pressure coming from deep, deep inside.

“Hello to you too, Potter. You’re not an easy man to find.”

“Not an easy man,” Harry managed.

“Not a man,” Malfoy countered.

“Not,” Harry, “interested. Go back to the Ministry and—”

“So you really haven’t heard? I quit.” When Harry chanced a look, Malfoy was busy examining his fingernails. He looked—he smelled—he—was an onslaught Harry couldn’t, wouldn’t withstand.

Instead of whimpering again, of being pathetic: “So what do you want? Why come all this way if it wasn’t some…”

“Scheme?” Malfoy uncrossed his legs, leaned back. Too fucking much; Harry’s mouth watered already. “Plot? Who said it wasn’t. Maybe I’m hunting you down all for myself now.”

“Why,” Harry growled.

“Maybe I didn’t like the way you left.” A rustle: Harry didn’t need to look to know what that sound was. “Dear Malfoy, I hope you’ll understand—”

“Enough.”

Malfoy’s gaze burned on his skin. Malfoy’s everything burned. “—there’s nothing else I can do—”

“Enough. Please.”

A bang, too loud; his fist on the table. The coffee cup trembled, didn’t spill. “Oh, is that too much? Hearing your own stupid words? You can take it, sweetheart. We’ve not even got to the good part yet.”

Harry tried to take cover behind his hand. “Please, it’s—”

“I think you might be my mate,” Malfoy quoted in the iciest tone Harry’s ever heard, “Which is exactly why I have to go—”

“I did!” hiding, hiding. “How could I stay, how could I do anything when I knew I’d be putting you at risk? The Ministry won’t stop. And even if—even if they did,” in this horrible, shaky voice. “What I’ve become—”

“A fucking idiot, you mean?”

Harry looked up.

Malfoy’s lips were so thin. “I don’t care what you are. I don’t care what they tried to make you into. You think I might be your mate and then you run? Sentence yourself to, what, a miserable, lonely existence just because you’re scared?”

The shudder took him so hard he nearly fell. “I can’t hurt you,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “I won’t.”

“You have, arsehole,” with exasperation that seemed oddly fond. “Come on, Potter. You didn’t even do me the courtesy of asking.”

“Asking?”

“Veelas have mates too. You’d know if you bothered to stick around.”

“They have—” something whirled in his belly, in his chest. Something sickening and bright. “Wait. Are you saying—what are you saying?”

“You can’t hurt me.” Malfoy bent closer. “Not in the way you imagine. Not if you stay and work it out like an adult. I won’t let the Ministry use you as a weapon. I won’t let anything—I’m saying you’re an idiot, and I’m an even bigger one, and that if you’d run from me again, you’ll regret it.”

A smile burst, baffled and hot between his cheeks. “You… are you serious?”

“You think I came all this way for a joke? I only commit to things that are worth my while.” His grey eyes, burning. “Are you worth my while?”

Helpless, he grabbed Malfoy’s hand. The scent of him in Harry’s nose, heavenly and far too strong: everything he could hope for, that he tried to escape. “Please,” Harry croaked.

Malfoy hummed, leaned back. Used his free hand to steal Harry’s scone. “I’m staying across the road. When you’re quite done—”

On his feet. “Done.” The edges of Malfoy’s lips twitched.

“Very well.” He got up, cast a look from under his endless lashes. “Potter. If you leave again—”

“I won’t,” Harry promised, and meant it. Won’t be able to, now that he had Malfoy back in his arms, smelling and looking and being like that. Now that Harry felt alive, and like a person, and also not. Better than any treat, sweet or savoury. Bitter and sour, lemon zest and evergreens: his Malfoy. His mate.

 For my dear @generalpizzaengineer and their prompt 💖

[bravo4iscool]

Hey hey, I'd like to give an idea!!

I know that a lot of people actually focus on ghost x reader stuff, AND THAT'S OK, but I've been thinking about some content of reader actually being Simon's kid or something. Because I only find content similar to it in very weird accounts that somehow turn those into incest fanfics, and it gives me the ick.

I'll understand if you just ignore this or not feel like writing it, I just felt like I wanted to bring this idea up because, well, why not.

I LOVE THIS!!! thank you so much for trusting me with this! i’ll try my best hahaha.

i love simon’s!kid fanfics and all those incest fics really are the bane of my existence😭. how tf do you come up with stuff like that lmao?

anyways, since you weren’t specific with the type of fic you want i’m gonna turn this into a (toxic!)singledad!simon!AU🫣

for this i’m taking inspiration from my favourite series ‘seal team’ and its main character the navy seal master chief jason hayes.

he (jason) has two children (one daughter and one son) and is anything but a perfect father. he tried to be better after his ex wive’s death but, well…

but i don’t wanna talk too much, let’s go🫣

readers nickname is nugget btw and they have a younger brother named jacob :)

(i hope you like this, i tried my best😭)

(masterlist)

REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

You sigh and shrug off your jacket. You’re drenched in water, a little puddle forming where you stand. You shiver and pull off your shoes with a grunt, hoping that you didn’t alert your dad.

“Hey Nugget.” You grimace when you hear your dad’s voice. You didn’t want him to notice you.

“Hi dad,” you quickly greet him, trying to squish past him but he grabs your arm, holding you back. You take a deep breath before you look at him. The sooner this was over the better.

“Why are your clothes wet?” he wants to know, looking you up and down, frowning at you.

“It’s raining outside,” you drily remark, clearing your throat when he hits you with a sharp gaze. You sigh, “You were meant to pick me up but you didn’t show up, okay? All my friends were gone and I needed to walk home.”

His grip around your arm weakens and he frowns at you again. “What do you mean, I was supposed to pick you up?”

“The way I said it. You told me you’d pick me up but you didn’t show.” You shrug. “It’s nothing new, no? Now, can I please go to my room? I’d like to change.” You wait for his answer but you get none. He only lets go of your arm, watching after you when you leave.

You peek into your brothers room before you walk into your bathroom and check after him. “Hey Josy. Have you eaten already?” you want to know, leaning against his doorframe.

He looks up from his game, smiling and shaking his head. “Nah. He came home like two hours ago. He hasn’t talked to me.” 

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself off the door frame. “Okay. I’ll quickly shower and then I’ll see what I can make. You good with that?”

“Jup,” your little brother answers, already too distracted by his video game again. You shake your head with a smile, heading towards your bathroom.

-

“You want something to eat?” you ask Simon when you start to rummage around in the kitchen. “Josy said he didn’t have anything so I thought about making some,” you tell him, barely waiting for your dad’s response.

But when you really don’t get one you turn around and and walk a couple steps into the living room. There you see him, peacefully sleeping on the couch, one arms dangling off the side and his mouth slightly agape.

You smile to yourself and carefully walk towards him to drape a blanket over him. You look at him for a second before you lift his head to put a pillow under it. Then you leave as quietly as you arrived.

When you call your brother for dinner you motion him to be quiet as he enters. “Dad’s asleep, I don’t want to wake him up,” you explain, setting Jacob’s plate down in front of him.

“Thanks,” he smiles, immediately digging into the food. “Y’know, you should become a chef with your cooking skills,” he smacks after some moments, nodding along to his statement.

You chuckle and shake your head. “You know that there’s no culinary school around here… Besides I can’t leave you or dad alone.”

Jacob only rolls his eyes at that, stuffing another fork of food into his mouth. “Sometimes I think he doesn’t even care about us.”

You immediately frown at your brother, holding yourself back from hardly scolding him. “Josy, don’t say that! Of course he cares about us! He’s just…” you try to find the right words to discribe your dad but, well… there was only one that came to mind. You sigh, “He’s just a bit difficult. You know his job…” You try to find excuses for his behaviour, knowing that it actually wasn’t but you didn’t want to hit your brother with the stone cold reality.

“He tries his best,” is the way you end the topic not knowing that Simon listened from the living room, his eyes filling with tears. Was he really that bad? Was he really failing that hard? Was he really so…unavailable to his children?

-

The next day you wake up your dad’s gone. No note, no information; he’s just gone. At first you didn’t think anything of it, he surely would be home in the evening but when he didn’t show you start to get worried.

You don’t tell Joseph about it, you keep to yourself and dial the Captains phone number. He surely could tell you where your dad was.

“Price,” he answers the phone and you let out a deep breath.

“Hi John! Is my dad with you?” you immediately ask, pacing up and down in your kitchen. “He hasn’t been home and doesn’t answer my texts or calls. I’m worried about him…” you tell the Captain, your eyes nervously darting around.

John listens to you and then tell you, “He’s not with me. We’re not due for deployment until almost two months,” he further informs you and your heart sinks.

“What do you mean, he’s not with you? Do you know where he is?” Your voice wavers and you feel your eyes starting to burn.

“I’m sorry Nugget but… I don’t know where he is…” You can hear him walking around, then he talks again. “I’ll keep my eyes out for him, okay? I’ll send someone over to you as soon as I’m finished here.”

“Oh, no no no, it’s fine. I- we don’t need someone, it’s alright,” you immediately deny, not wanting anyone else to know your dad was gone. “I’m gonna call Johnny, maybe he knows where he is. You don’t need to send someone,” you explain, chewing your nails—a habit you actually wanted to get rid of.

You can practically feel the hesitance of the Captain but after a couple seconds he agrees. “Okay. But I’ll look after you as soon as I can. I don’t want you and Joseph to be alone,” is his compromise and you can’t help but agree.

“I’ll talk to you again later, okay?” Price sighs. “Some recruit did shit and I need to fix it now.”

“Okay, yes.” You end the call, your hand wiping over your face in a state of panic. You didn’t know where your dad was, if he was okay or if he’d come back. You didn’t know how to look after yourself and Joseph, you probably needed to quit school to keep track of all the bills and-

“Where’s dad?” Joseph walks into the kitchen, headphones around his neck, munching on chips or something like that.

“He’s…at work,” you quickly lie, trying to hide you glassy eyes. “I don’t know when he’ll be back.” Jacob’s happy with that answer and opens the fridge.

“We gonna take the bus to school?” he wants to know, glancing at you.

“You’ll go alone today,” you tell him, handing him his lunch box. “I have an important appointment.”

“If you say so,” he shrugs, grabbing his backpack and leaves before you can properly say goodbye. As soon as you’re sure he left you grab your phone again and dial Johnny’s phone number.

As expected he also doesn’t know where your dad was but promises to to keep an eye out for him. Fucking hell, why did he just leave? Did someone shit in his brain or what? He’s never pulled something like that before…

-

Simon returns almost four months later. He didn’t know why he left. He didn’t know anything but one thing he did know was that he probably lost his children for good now…

His hands almost shake when he opens the door and he’s prepared for screaming and crying and breakdowns but when you see him your eyes widen and the mug in your hand falls to the ground.

“Dad,” you whisper and before he can even process everything you’re crashing into his arms, crying your eyes out.

“I’m sorry Nugget, I’m so sorry,” he mumbles into your hair, holding you close and never wanting to let you go again.

And you’re so close to forgiving him already; almost forgetting how you needed to quit school and take a job in the sketchy diner down the road. Almost forgetting how you cried yourself to sleep every night, trying to hide the disappearance of your dad from Joseph.

Simon feels how his hands start to shake and his eyes start to burn while he’s holding you; you’re crying in his arms and he’s so close to breaking down but then Joseph walks in.

“What do you want here?” His voice is cold, his gaze hard. He doesn’t flinch when your dad let’s go of you and straightens his back to his full height.

Your dad says nothing, only looks at his son, waiting for him to continue talking. “You left,” Joseph grits out, purposefully walking towards Simon. “You left and you didn’t even have the balls to tell us why!”

He was now screaming, his face red and his voice shaking. “How dare you come back now! How dare you!”

“Josy-“ you try to calm him down but he slaps your hand away, smacking his finger into his father’s chest.

“You think it’s okay to just leave? Nugget quit school to keep us above water while you were gone!” Joseph was now throwing pathetic punches at Simon’s chest, tears brimming him his eyes. “We needed you and you just decided to be a weak fuck and quit!”

Tears were running down your little brothers cheeks as he was hitting your dad chest and you wanted to pull him into your arms arms and comfort him but you yourself were shaking, your vision blurry from already shed tears.

“I’m sorry Josy,” Simon whispered, ignoring the punches his son was throwing at him, only pulling him into his arms and holding him close. “I don’t-“ his voice breaks. “I don’t know why I left. I’m sorry…”

Joseph shakes and cries and your heart breaks again. Carefully you walk towards them both, placing your arms around your brother. “We’ll be fine Josy,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his head. “We’ll be fine…”

When you were alone with your dad, once Joseph went to sleep you place a cup of tea in front of him and sit down opposite of him.

“You’ve got a lot to fix,” you tell him, your expression neutral, besides your shaking hands beneath the table. “You just…disappeared and that left its scars. Don’t think that they’ll be healed just because you came home again.”

He listens to you, nodding along and staring at his tea. “I know. And i’m keen on fixing it.” He looks up and you see his red eyes. “I’m sorry I led Nugget. I’ll make it up, okay? I’ll do my best.”

“I know,” you try to believe him but in the back of your head you’re reminded of all the times he didn’t keep his promises…

pt.2 lol?

[swmmi-kti]

One of a kind

Pairing: Kokushibo x Reincarnated Fem!Y/n

-*-*--*-*--*-*--*-*--*-*--*-*--*-*--*-*-

When he was still human he had found life boring and stale, and that was no secret at all. Time passed far slower and painfully dull. But when he married it was as if the gods had finally enlightened him. His wife was one out of many and in those many years he has never forgotten you. How the moons passed and every time he got slight glimpses of it he remembered how no greater glow lived in this world since you had passed. 

But Gods always were cruel. Had he come back to you any time when you still graced the earth with your soul then he would have asked if you would have joined him too. However the one time he had found your old home. You had been slaughtered. At the fellow hands of his brethren. 

Your kids are nowhere in sight. It eased his mind but a bit. However for many nights he had stayed next to your decomposing corpse. His hunger subsided as he held you. Cradling you as he had done nights where your pregnant belly was too much to bare. 

He would much rather live in a world where you rested peacefully than forever tied down to a world that forced you to kill. 

After almost nothing remained he had buried you. Finally at ease and with it you took his heart. His heart no longer had that burning passion it had before. It emptied and the glass was half full. When he had killed his brother it felt as if all of it was finally gone. 

He was just  upper moon one. And that is all he would be. Vague memories lived on in the depths of his mind, stashed away was the flute he made for his dearest brother and next to it a hairpin that he had bestowed on you before your wedding. His two most prized objects. 

And they were laying out far from his reach. How did he get here? How on earth did it end this way? 

Tonight he knew he would have encountered a slayer. He knew that but he needn’t frighten himself. No greater power known to man could make him fear. 

But those same eyes that had watched him with nothing but adoration and then hatred when he had abandoned them. Now haunted his very core. The gods are cruel and they tortured him since he could remember. 

He didn’t care for slayers. Didn’t care enough, just ended their lives and that was all that they got from him. 

However those eyes that had once stared at him were here once again. A different kind of hatred now stared back at him. One of disgust. Perhaps even fear too. Somehow, Someway your figure stood before him. 

Your hands how calloused over as it held onto the handle of your blade, Those eyes piercing right through his very core.The once elegance you had the poise it all vanished as he stood as your enemy. 

It was then he realized he would rather prefer you be his enemy than have to kill you and have to live in a world where you didn’t exist at all. 

He knew he was crazy, mad perhaps and he wondered did you remember too. 

“..what is your… Name?” He asked speaking after so long of not sparing his breath. 

Your eyes widened a little. The hold on your blade never loosening but the pattern of your heart elevated. 

“I’m Y/n.” You speak with the voice he has never forgotten

Oh how awful of a crude joke this was. Standing as enemies when years ago you stood together as each other’s 

Yes. There was obvious differences in you of the past and you of the now. But beneath all that you were still the same. He wanted to say his sorrys for abandoning you, abandoning his family. Wanted to say some apology and in hopes that somehow you remembered it all. 

If he were any less than sane he’d probably turn you into a demon be at his side as you always should have been. But those eyes never held any recollection.

Did you cry when he left? How hard did you cry? Did you really hate him or want him back? Did you suffer when you died? Did you know where his children were? Did you go down protecting them? Or did you have a quick death?

“Do you…remember who i am?” He asked hand now resting on his own handle.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before” 

He knew that was going to happen. He did. And it didn't make it hurt any less than it does.

“You are the upper moon one. And I may not be able to kill you. But i'd rather go down trying than never knowing i had a chance” 

Fights always bored him. They always ended far sooner than he would have hoped. But this was taking too long. He knew why. His own hesitance withheld him and he didn't know why.

Why did he not want to kill you? Why on earth were you the only thing that kept him the least bit happy when nothing ever seemed too. What was so special about you in the first place? 

For the first time ever he felt a shiver run up his spine and for the first time ever he let a slayer live.

[whatsnewalycat]

Designated Person | Chapter 6

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 6: Present

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Series Summary: When posting bail for Frankie Morales, your former employer and former lover, you unwittingly designate yourself as his third party custodian during his pre-trial release. Your often tumultuous relationship with him is given a new set of rules and put to the test. Can the two of you co-exist peacefully, or will you crash and burn?

Word Count: 9.2k+

Content / Warnings: Frankie POV, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship and related flashbacks, angst, food, AA meeting, alcoholism, abuse mention, lying, confrontation, crying, mutual masturbation, panty snatchin' (sorry idk what else to call it)

Notes: Hello hello hello! If you want the taglist, spotify playlist, or AO3 link, head on down to the masterlist. I appreciate your patience in waiting for this, thank you so much for reading. Ok love u have fun!

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Tonight, the AA meeting is being held in the conference room of a value hotel. 

The three-story venue is ripe with families on vacation and traveling professionals who likely booked their rooms as a cost-saving measure. They certainly didn’t choose to stay here because of its charming features, such as the floating island of dead bugs in the outdoor swimming pool, or the dingy low-pile carpet darkened in high-traffic areas, or the generic, faded landscape portraits in shiny golden frames. 

Its conference room is windowless, the only source of light buzzing from long fluorescents overhead, dousing everything in a twitchy, vague sort of green that grips Frankie’s stomach. 

Or, maybe it’s just the story he’s listening to that’s making him feel ill. 

Maybe a little bit of both, it’s hard to tell. 

“She had her heart set on leaving, ‘n’ I told her, nobody fuckin’ wants you here anyway, Mary Beth, go on home!” 

The haggard old man, who introduced himself as Fred, says this in a jovial, rehearsed way that tells Frankie this story has been told many times. Probably over drinks, to coworkers, or friends, or anyone who happened to be within earshot at his regular barstool. 

Fred glances around over his puffy, purpled nose, like he half expects his spectators’ laughter, but the only noise is the squeak of people’s uncomfortable shifting in seats. Either because the story is too relatable, or because these folding chairs are hell on the tailbone. 

“She told me if I didn’t get my ass outta that barstool, she’d be gone when I got home,” he looks at the floor and his cheeky grin falls, “I didn’t go home ‘til barclose. ‘N’ she was still there. Knew she would be. She always was.”

The room is silent as he gathers his thoughts. 

“She passed away, few years back,” he looks around, putting his calloused hands up defensively, “‘N’ I miss her everyday, don’t get me wrong, but—”

The well-weathered skin of his face sags into solemnity, “I kinda wish she woulda kicked me to the curb, y’know? Was always waitin’ for it, for her to get fed up ‘n’ leave, but she never did. ‘N’ I think, sometimes, maybe… she woulda lived a better life if she did. ‘Steada waiting around for some drunk, she coulda really made somethin’ out of herself. And I feel…” he frowns at the floor, trying to pinpoint the correct emotion, a skill undoubtedly atrophied by decades of avoidance.

“Regret, I think? Wasting so much of her life. It’s one thing wastin’ my life, but her’s… I dunno. It don’t sit right,” Fred clears his throat and swallows, then sighs, “Guess that’s it. Our anniversary’s coming up next week, she’s been on my mind ‘n’ I wanted to get that out.” 

The ringleader for tonight is David, as is usually the case at the Monday night meetings Frankie attends. He thanks Fred for sharing, then asks for another volunteer. 

Frankie leans back in his seat and presses his fingers to his lips as another participant clears their throat and begins to talk. He’s stuck on the old man’s story, though. His knee starts bouncing as he turns it over in his mind. 

I’m not that bad, right? I wasn’t that absent. I didn’t go to the bar every night. On the weekends, sure. And on weeknights, I’d drink myself fuzzy and numb, but at least I was at home.

Was he really present, though? 

Before you, when Angie was home with Sarah on maternity leave, he’d come home from work and visit with them for a while. Knock a few beers or drinks back. After dinner, he would continue to drink in the garage, or in the basement. Somewhere Angie couldn’t raise her eyebrows every time he finished a beverage and retrieved a replacement. 

Even after you, this ritual continued. You distracted him enough to slow the drinking those few hours after he got home. But once the table was cleared after dinner, he would tuck himself away somewhere in the house to drink alone. 

It wasn’t always that way. 

He drank, sure, but it wasn’t every day. It wasn’t to the point his mind went blank. 

No, that didn’t start until he returned from South America. 

Every time his eyelids closed, it played on repeat. The mansion. The crash. The village. Redfly’s vacant eyes. Over and over. His culpability hung around his neck like a noose. 

The guys didn’t want to talk about it. A silent agreement not to mention their sins. Angie didn’t want to talk about it. Too pissed at him for going in the first place to feel bad for him. 

It just stayed inside him, replaying again and again on loop. He needed something to wipe the slate clean, and booze worked. 

Not like he was sober before then. Drinking himself blind on the weekends. Fuck, Angie was the same way. Before she got pregnant, anyway. That’s how they ended up meeting, that summer night back in 2018. 

He and Benny went to one of their frequent Saturday spots. The bar was crowded and loud, heavy throngs of people attracted by a popular local DJ. Summer heat crept into the air despite the industrial air conditioner running at full blast, Florida’s relentless humidity hung thick in the air, leaving a dewy residue on every surface. 

The only thing Frankie could smell was that primal, earthy scent of sweat. He pinched his shirt and pulled it away from his chest with a few quick tugs, trying to get some kind of a breeze going. When he looked around the bar, swathes of exposed skin all surrounded him, people wiping their foreheads and fanning themselves. 

He spotted two women sitting at a high-top table, leaning over their drinks and talking to each other. One of them was a pretty, unassuming brunette. The other had glossy black hair that shone in the neon lights, cascading in waves down the open back of her dress. She looked put together and fucking luminous, the way her copper skin seemed to glow. He couldn’t look away. 

Benny was in the middle of a sentence when Frankie cut him off, “Holy shit, look at her.” 

“What—who?” Benny followed Frankie’s line of sight and guffawed, “Her? She would eat you for fucking breakfast, man.”

“I fucking wish,” Frankie gave Benny this dopey smile, nodding towards them, “You getting a feel on the friend?”

Benny glanced her over and shrugged, a smirk turning up the corner of his mouth, “Pretty brunette?” 

“Right up your alley, huh?” Frankie grinned, then nudged his friend, “So?”

“Fuck it, why not?” Benny chuckled. 

“Atta boy,” Frankie smacked his shoulder a few times, then started off towards the table. 

“Hey, how’re you two doing tonight?” he asked as he leaned against the table, looking between the two women, who sized him up scrupulously, “Yeah, uh, my name is Frankie, this is my buddy, Benny. Mind if we join you?” 

“Why?” the subject of his desire asked, her big, round eyes searching Frankie’s face. 

“Why?” he raised his eyebrows and chuckled, “Well, because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. I’d sell my goddamn soul for an opportunity to talk to you—”

“Oh yeah?” she smirked and tilted her head, bringing the tip of her tongue to her top teeth before shrugging, “Prove it.” 

“You—you want it? My soul?” he grinned and leaned closer, “It’s yours, beautiful, for the low, low price of this barstool next to you. And maybe, if you’re feeling generous, a dance later?”

“That’s a hell of a deal,” she raised her eyebrows and joked, “For you, I mean.”

“Oh yeah?” he laughed, “What if I throw in a sweetener? I’ll buy your drinks, too, how’s that sound?” 

She scrunched her face up in contemplation, then smiled, “Deal.”

“Yeah?” Frankie beamed, extending his hand to her, and as she took it, he grazed his thumb against her soft skin, “What’s your name?”

“Angie,” she answered, eyebrow quirking as she told him, “This doesn’t mean you’re taking me home tonight, though.”

“Noted,” he smirked, dropping his eyes to her lips, before meeting her gaze, “So what’re you drinking?”

He woke up the next morning in his bed, head spinning, stomach clenching. 

Before opening his eyes, he tried to recount the night, following the path of breadcrumbs his memory allowed him. Meeting Angie, taking shots, flirting with her relentlessly, more drinks, dancing with her. Kissing her on the dance floor. The sidewalk slabs uneven beneath his feet on the walk back to his apartment. A woman’s razor sharp giggle as he fumbled to unlock the door. 

The mattress shifted beside him and he cracked one eyelid open tentatively, releasing a sigh of relief when he recognized Angie as the person tangled up in his sheets. Traces of the previous night’s makeup still held in tact on her face, oily pools gathering in the soft wrinkles of her forehead and eyes, black mascara clinging to her lashes in clumps and flaking onto her cheeks, a faint red outline where her lipstick was before he kissed it off of her. He rolled on his side towards her and brushed some of the sweat-dampened hair from her forehead. 

She hummed and frowned, then took a deep, wakeful breath as her eyes blinked open. They were stunning in the light. Golden streaks like sunbeams stretching from the middle of her iris into a deep, rich brown. 

“Oh, fuck,” she murmured, “We fucked, didn’t we?”

“That’s what it’s looking like,” he smirked, “How’re you feeling?”

She groaned and pinched the bridge of her button nose, “Still drunk.”

“Regret this yet?” he chuckled, half-joking, half-wondering. 

“Having sex with a stranger? Yeah, I’m having some regrets,” she scoffed, shaking her head, then threw her hand down at her side. She sighed and studied his face, “You’re cute, though. Kind of wish I could remember it.”

“Ditto,” he said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with a shrug, “You know, we could have a do-over. Since we’re already here and regretting it. You could… let me have another chance to, ya know, make a lasting impression.” 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” her dark eyebrow arched. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. She brought her long, red fingernails to his hairline and combed them through his bed head. 

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded, dropping his gaze to her lips, “Plus, that way, when this hangover inevitably kills me, I’ll die a happy man.” 

“Is that right?” she giggled. The sound made his heart sing in harmony. 

“That’s right,” he reached out to her under the covers, smoothing his hands along her soft skin, coaxing her closer as he murmured, “What do you think, princesa, hmm?”

“I think,” she wriggled on top of him, the sticky heat of her naked body clinging to his, “I could give you a fighting chance.“

She hovered over him, meeting his eyes for an intoxicating moment before he pulled her lips to his. From there, it was full throttle. Kissing, biting, gasping, moaning. Torrid, frenzied movements that burned bright and hot. 

Their relationship took off at break-neck speed. 

From that day onward, they were doing nightly sleepovers at each others’ apartments. Every free moment spent with the other, most often spent drinking or fucking. Six days into their relationship, Frankie got a text from some girl he was casually seeing. Angie read it when he was out of the room, then confronted him, resulting in their first drunk screaming match, and, subsequently, their first instance of drunk make-up sex. 

She worked at a global manufacturing plant’s central office with hundreds of other carpet-walkers and pencil-pushers as a financial analyst. Her hours often ran long and wound her up tight. 

When she would show up at Frankie’s apartment after work, she’d be ready to burst. He’d fix her a drink and listen to her bitch about coworkers and projects and idiots who used reply all instead of reply, waiting for her to ask him anything about his day. She never seemed all that curious about him, though, which irked him. 

They did have fun together, when they had sex and went out to bars, but by the end of the second month, he found her presence to be draining. That bug of discontentment wriggled beneath his skin. He realized they had little in common aside from their coping mechanisms and combustibility. 

He started to think about breaking things off with Angie, but, by then, it was too late. 

“Who would like to go next?” David asks, glancing around the circle of metal folding chairs and their scattered occupants. 

Frankie meets his eyes and points his index finger at the ceiling. 

“Floor’s yours, Frankie.” 

“Thanks,” Frankie nodded and crossed his arms, sitting back in the squeaky chair, “Growing up, my dad wasn’t around much,” his mouth opens, but a thought occurs to him and he chuckles, shaking his head, “There’s one for the AA Meeting Bingo Card, huh?” 

This actually earns a few amused grins and a snort of laughter from his peers. 

He leans forward, pressing his elbows into his knees with a shrug, “Anyway. Even when he was living with us, whenever I did see him, he had a beer in his hand. And I thought it was normal, like everyone’s dad went to the bar every night, so I didn’t think much of it. I’m not sure when that changed. When I started to notice, I mean, that it wasn’t normal.

“When I’d go to my friend’s house, I thought they were… I dunno, fucking weird? Because they sat around the dinner table and talked to each other while they ate. And—and they didn’t seem afraid of their dad. Like, they didn’t have to walk on eggshells when he was around, which made me… uncomfortable, I guess,” he grimaces and shakes his head, “Jesus Christ, that’s fucked up. But, anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that, to me, my dad’s behavior was normal. 

“There would be times when he would come home and be three sheets to the goddamn wind, and he’d yell and throw shit, and my ma, she would lock me in my bedroom and tell me not to come out. Said my dad wasn’t feeling well,” he crinkles his nose and shrugs, “They split when I was twelve. And I don’t blame her for leaving him, I really don’t, but… I didn’t see him again until I got out of basic.”

He stops and leans back, taps his fingers on his kneecaps, then crosses his arms. A knot tightens in his throat when he remembers that day. Knocking on the door of his dad’s shitty apartment in Orlando. When it swung open, Frankie barely recognized him. 

Seven years left to his own devices aged him decades. Deep wrinkles carved into his droopy forehead. His nose and cheeks were darkened and bumpy, like he had a pubescent case of acne. He looked Frankie over with glossy, barely-there eyes and slurred, “There’s my boy! Hey, come in, Francisco, come in!”

Frankie’s stomach soured when the words hit his face, thick and swollen with whiskey. A warning signal that laid dormant in his veins for years reawakened, gushing hot and electric beneath his staticky skin. 

His father turned and started waddling into the apartment, so Frankie followed him, closing the door left wide open behind him. The apartment was threadbare. A dingy beige couch sat on one side of the living room, facing a small antennaed tv propped up on a milk crate. Some blonde news anchor chattered on the tv, but the gurgling buzz of the air conditioning unit effectively muted her. In lieu of a proper dining room setup, his father had a folding chair tucked into a card table, which was cluttered by piles of unopened envelopes and empty beer cans.

While the stranger pulled two beer cans out of his fridge, Frankie managed to stitch some words together, “So, how’ve you been, Dad?”

He didn’t seem to hear his question, just held one aluminum can across the countertop to his son, “You’re a real man now, huh? Have a beer with me, Francisco.” 

Frankie took a few steps forward and went to lean onto the counter, but decided against it when he realized how sticky the surface was. He accepted the beer and opened it. 

“It’s been too long, my boy, too long. What has it been, four years?”

“Seven,” Frankie corrected, averting his gaze to a tower of dirty dishes emerging from cloudy, gray water in the sink. The wet, bacterial, rotting stench made his nose crinkle. 

“Ah, well. I’m, well…” he trailed off and swallowed three big gulps of beer, then grinned, “So, Special Forces, huh?”  

“Yeah, I—”

“I’m proud of you, Francisco.” 

Frankie’s head jerked backwards and he met his dad’s dark eyes, “Wh-what?” 

“Takes discipline,” he responded, nodding, “I’m proud of you. Your mom, she did a good job with you.”

And he wanted to say a million different things. He wanted to say thank you and I love you and I forgive you and I hate you and fuck you. He wanted to yell: No thanks to you, you drunk old bastard. You woman-beating fucking coward. A different part of him wanted to cry: Why did you abandon me? Why wasn’t I good enough? Am I good enough now?

But when he licked his lips and opened his mouth to respond, his dad shuffled off into the sad living room, changing the subject. 

Frankie shakes his head and sighs, then looks around the room, “When Angie got pregnant, I vowed I’d never be like him. I—I wanted to be there for my kid, to be better than he was to me, and give my child a better life than I had. 

“Ang and I don’t always, um… see eye-to-eye. We have our problems. I’m trying to make it work, but I’m just so,” the word catches in his throat and burns behind his eyes. He takes a deep breath, swallows, and admits, “I’m so scared it’s not going to work. And Ang will take her. And I’ll end up just like him.”

He clears his throat, then takes another wide, cleansing breath before starting again.

“The only things I’ve ever been any good at are being a soldier and being a dad,” he says, staring at the floor, “It’s hard enough only seeing her a few times a week right now. I fucking hate it. I hate not being there when she wakes up in the middle of the night with a nightmare, and not watching Happy Feet with her twice a day, and not cuddling on the couch with her in the morning,” his stomach clenches and he feels a swell of tears starting behind his eyes, but continues, “The only thing getting me through this right now is knowing that it’s temporary. But if it doesn’t work with Angie, and I lose Sarah, I lose fucking everything. And I—I fucking can’t do that. I won’t.”

Frankie buries his face in his hands and feels a sob bubble up his throat. The echo of his crying returns to his ears and he becomes acutely aware of the other people in the room. That hardened part of his brain scolds him, growling at him to fucking get it together. He pushes the chair out behind him and keeps his head down as he walks out of the room, muttering, “I need a minute.”

When your shitty old car pulls into the hotel parking lot, Frankie is still outside pacing, trying to gather the courage to go back inside and face the group. 

He breathes a sigh of relief and starts towards it. You furrow your brow at him through your cracked windshield. When he opens the car door and sits down, you ask, “Why aren’t you in there?”

“It’s fine,” he frowns and pulls his seatbelt over his chest, locking it in place, “Got out early.”

You narrow your eyes at him, then scoff, “Bullshit. What happened?”

“Nothing—”

“Oh my god, Frankie, come on,” you cross your arms and lean back in your seat, searching his face, “You’re all flustered right now—”

“I am not,” he protests.

“You’re such a liar, you are flus-tered,” you blink at him with authority, raising one eyebrow, “All jittery, and your eyes look red—did you cry? Is that it?”

It’s irritating how well you know him. 

He rolls his eyes and looks out the window, muttering against his fingers, “Can we just go?”

“It’s ok, you know, to cry,” you say quietly. 

His leg starts bouncing and his jaw gnashes from one side to the other.

Like you’re one to talk. 

Like you don’t go out of your way to hide from him every time tears pool in your eyes. 

“Hey,” you coo and tug on his hand. He lets you take it, interlacing his fingers with yours. The contact makes his heart skip a beat. When he looks over at you, your brows are threaded together, earnest eyes searching his face, “You’re not the first person to cry in AA, I promise. They’re there to support you. Give them a chance to help.” 

He glances up at the hotel’s exit and sees a few people from the meeting filing out, and shrugs, “It’s over now, anyways.”’

“Did you get your paper signed?” 

“No.”

“C’mon, at least get credit for your work,” you smirk, squeezing his hand, “I’m sure they’ll understand why you left.” 

He groans and scrubs a hand over his face, “Fine.” 

“Atta boy,” you grin, “Do you want me to come with or do you got this?”

“I got this,” he flashes a weak smile, and has to hold himself back from bringing the back of your hand to his lips. 

He unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the vehicle, nodding at a few familiar faces as he makes his way back into the building to the conference room. 

In the room, a few people are putting away chairs or talking in small, quiet groups. David stands by the snack table, signing off on someone’s attendance form. Frankie lines up behind them and avoids David’s gaze when it’s his turn to hand over the attendance sheet. 

“That was really vulnerable, what you shared with us today,” David tells Frankie as he unfolds the form. 

His nostrils flare and he scoffs, “I thought I was supposed to share things.”

David frowns as he signs off on the paper, shaking his head, “It’s a compliment. Being vulnerable is good, and I appreciate your vulnerability.” 

“Oh,” Frankie shifts his weight to one leg and frowns, “Thanks.” 

“Yeah, of course,” David hands the form back, and when Frankie takes it, he can tell David is gearing up to say more. His face grows more solemn. He pushes the wire frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose and says, “I know how conflicting it is being an alcoholic father with an alcoholic father. It’s hard to know if you’re doing the right thing. Being apart from them is hell, even if it’s when you’re doing something to make yourself better. I just wanted to let you know that I get it.” 

Frankie nods, searching the man’s face, “Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” David flashes a polite smile, then turns to the snack table and starts picking things up. 

When the two of you get home, Frankie goes into your bedroom to haul the TV back to its normal spot in the living room. 

He finds himself lingering at the foot of the bed, staring at the side he slept in last night. At the covers, still drawn back from when he woke for work this morning. At the stuffed panda bear you set in his place at some point today. 

My place. 

He needs to stop thinking like that. It’s not his place. It can’t be his place. 

Not permanently, anyway. 

Part of him feels guilty for not leaving once you fell asleep. Staying was pure self-indulgence, no matter how many times he tries to convince himself it was for your benefit. 

It can’t become a habit. 

But all weekend he wanted to hold you. To feel your beating heart and shallow, wheezy breath against his body. Proof that you were still here, after seeing you gasping for air, lips tinged blue, eyes wide with fear. 

In his life, he’s faced a lot of scary and uncertain situations. Situations that threatened his own life and that of people he cares about. But this… this was different. At least in combat scenarios, he had training and experience to guide him. 

This weekend he felt powerless. 

If he had to quantify the terror, he was at maximum capacity. Never been so fucking afraid in his life. He felt so helpless, he folded his hands and bowed his head at your hospital bedside, reaching out to something or someone in hushed whispers, pleading for your recovery. 

So, no, he couldn’t bring himself to leave you alone in your bed last night. Not when you fell asleep in his arms, your head on his chest, curled up at his side. 

The answer to his prayers. 

When he was sure you were sleeping, he pressed his lips to your forehead and told you what he’s only barely been able to admit to himself. 

In a million different ways, I’ve always loved you.

It was indulgent. Undisciplined. 

But mostly, it was a relief. 

Even if his words fell on your sleeping ears. 

Even if he can probably never tell you again. 

With a heavy sigh, he follows the TV’s power cord to the wall and unplugs it. He freezes when he spots something on the floor next to your dresser. You cough at the other end of the house, and he glances over his shoulder just to make sure you’re not around before he picks it up. 

A pile of soft teal lace. Your underwear. 

He brings them to his nose and inhales, the familiar scent inspiring a deep, heated churn at the base of his spine. Without another thought, he shoves them in the front pocket of his jeans, then unplugs the TV. 

Frankie settles on the couch with a groan, then glances over to where you’re curled up into a little ball and asks, “Were you able to get some rest today?”

You nod and your mouth stretches into a yawn, then you murmur, “Still kind of feel like shit, though. Hopefully it’s better by Wednesday.”

“Oh yeah, how’re your kids doing?” 

“Marla said they’re doing better, getting back to their normal selves. Em’s going back to school tomorrow.”

“That’s good,” he leans back and spreads out in his corner of the couch, “You like it, working for them?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, “They’re sweet kids. Whole different vibe than Sarah, though,” you glance at him and chuckle, “Don’t tell anybody, but she was my favorite.” 

A grin stretches across Frankie’s face. He presses his fingertips to his lips and looks over at you, “She is pretty great, huh?” 

“The best,” you agree, a wistful smile playing on your lips, “I hope that when I, um,“ you falter here, smile dropping. You clear your throat and shake your head, “Sorry, I lost my train of thought. Are you guys doing anything fun tomorrow?”

“Not sure yet. Angie, um… yeah, I don’t know,” he frowns at his knee as it starts to bounce, “She’s pissed at me. So probably, you know, dealing with that.”

“Because you skipped out on Saturday?”

He nods, and when you don’t say anything, he glances over at you, “It’s fine, though, she’ll get over it.”

“Sure,” you smirk, raising an eyebrow, “Have things been going ok outside of that?”

“Aside from the alcoholism, my pending felony, and the fact that I’m living with another woman?” he snorts, “Things are going great.” 

“Don’t forget the affair,” you tease. 

“Mmm, you mean the isolated incident?” he corrects, rolling his head on his shoulders to look at you. 

You scoff and shake your head, “Wow. Yeah, isolated. Sure. Just a mistake, right?” 

He searches your face, watching your eyes go dim and your jaw clench, and furrows his brow, “N-no, that’s not—“

You clamp your lips closed with your teeth, like you’re holding yourself back, then open your mouth anyway, “That’s what you tell her, though, right?” you blink, “It was a mistake, it meant nothing to you, it’ll never happen again, blah blah blah?”

His jaw hangs slack and throat croaks as he tries to yield some kind of truth that will both spare your feelings and help him evade scrutiny, “I’m—sorry.”

It’s all he can come up with. 

You roll your eyes and sigh, then mutter, “Whatever,” before turning your attention back to the TV. 

The silence that settles is tense. It writhes beneath his skin and trickles into his stomach, twisting it into knots. 

You start to wriggle in your seat, like it’s bothering you, too. He can feel a jagged energy rolling off your body, and, predictably, you break. 

“If you ever want things to actually work with her, you’re going to have to come clean,” you huff, then glare at him, “You know that right? That you can’t just lie to her forever? There’s no way she fucking believes you.”

Frankie sighs, picking his hat off his head to run a hand through his hair, “Can we not?”

“Sure, we can just not,” you snip and sit up straight, crossing your arms across your chest, “We can just pretend things are cool and groovy and you can get your life back and I can fuck off into oblivion.” 

“Jesus Christ—”

“Well, fuck, that’s what you want, right, Frankie?” you stare at him, “You’ll be nice to me while you’re here, and cuddle with me, and hold my hand, and what the fuck ever, but when this arrangement is over, then what?”

“I don’t fucking know, ok?!” he snaps, then stands and starts pacing the living room, shaking his head, “I don’t know if—if I’m going to fucking prison, or if I’m going to lose my job, or if my wife will fucking divorce me and take my daughter away—”

Frankie stops and turns away from you, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. A few quiet seconds go by as he gathers himself and wrangles the burgeoning tears back into his skull. When he turns back around, he throws his hands out at his side, then lets them fall loose, “I don’t know what anything will look like after this,” he meets your glossy eyes, all wide and pained, and tells you in a hoarse, shaky voice, “Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being a fucking asshole to you for so long. I lied to you. I pushed you away. I fucking—I fucking hurt you and I understand that.”

He takes a few steps forward. Your eyes, pooling with tears, stay glued his, following seamlessly when he crouches down in front of you and pleads, “I’m trying to be better, I swear to god I’m fucking trying. I—I care about you a lot. And I’m sorry I can’t give you a better answer for what you and me will look like after this ‘situation’ is over with, because I have no fucking clue what anything will look like.” 

You swallow hard and nod, then drop your gaze as your face crumbles. A sob bubbles up your throat and quickly devolves into a coughing fit. 

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters, glancing around. He spots your inhaler on the coffee table and hands it to you, “Need this?”

You take it and inhale a few puffs of albuterol. When your breathing evens out, blink the tears from your eyes and croak out, “Sorry.” 

He reaches up and smudges a fat, swollen tear on your cheek with his thumb, “It’s fine, sweetheart.”

A pained expression crosses your face. You lean away from his touch, so he sits down beside you as you exhale a thick sigh and look around the room.

“I understand why you wouldn’t tell Angie everything. I just—” one of your cheeks pulls in like you’re gnawing at the inside. You release it and tell him, “I just hate the idea of you saying we were a mistake. I don’t know. Is that dumb?” 

Your eyes flick to his and they’re so sincere, his stomach flips upside down. He shakes his head, “No, that’s not dumb.” 

“Ok,” you sniffle, nodding as you look at the TV, “Ok.”

A minute goes by, each second amplifying the buzz beneath his skin. He looks over and realizes you’re squished against the armrest of the couch, curled up in a tense knot of limbs, brow furrowed, biting at your lip. 

“Hey,” he coos, beckoning you closer, “Come here.”

You give him this kind of pathetic, kind of cute pout, but accept the invitation. As he wraps an arm around your shoulders, you drape your legs across his lap, rest your head in the crook of his neck. He lays his cheek on the crown of your head and tucks you into an embrace. 

Maybe it’s one-sided, but Frankie feels heat humming between your bodies. 

The floral, minty scent of your hair, mixing with the musk of your soft skin, all dewy from humidity. Your breath rolling hot across the column of his throat. 

You wriggle closer, and the weight of your body settles between his legs. Presses firm down on his half-hard cock. 

His insides twist with a nagging, all-consuming want. The kind that usually fogs his brain when he thinks about booze. It claws at him like an animal caged within his ribs. Teeth bared, ferocious, growing: I need her I need her I need her

In the same cadence it always howls: I need a drink I need a drink I need a drink

The tips of his fingers scrape against your shoulder. A little whimper sneaks out your throat and drips down his spine. Your muscles shift and he can feel your lips hovering over his thudding pulse. 

This is dangerous. This is a line. A tightrope teetering beneath the soles of his feet. 

You breathe his name and it grazes his neck. His body surges with desire, cock throbbing, and he’s unable to stop the whine that croaks out his lips. 

He looks down at you, meeting your darkened, heavy-lidded gaze. You study each other, but neither of you move, despite the palpable current of electricity between you. 

“I—I should go to bed,” you whisper with little conviction, eyes darting to his mouth.

“It’s still light out,” he says, brushing the back of his hand against your cheek. 

You shiver and your lips part, panting, “I need to clear my head—I’m… not thinking right.”

Frankie imagines you clearing your head in your bedroom with the door closed. Your fingers working between your legs, eyes pinched closed while you flip through the mental catalogue of all the times he’s fucked you. 

“Can I come with you?” he asks, voice ragged, “I won’t—I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

You search his face, brows pushing together, and nod. 

This is stupid. 

You both know it. 

But he follows you to your room and closes the door behind him. 

Sinks into your bed as you lay out on the other side. 

You start slow, hands roaming the curves of your body. Over your tight tank top, no bra underneath, just the clear outline of your nipples. Along the middle of those little cotton sleep shorts he likes so much. 

He keeps his distance, blood pounding thick in his skull, as you ruck your shirt up your chest and roll a hardened bud between your fingers. You whimper and bite down on your bottom lip, eyes locking to his as your other hand slips beneath the waistband of your shorts. 

In his periphery, he can see the outline of your wrist flicking under the fabric, but he can’t part his eyes from yours. It’s entrancing. Your mouth opens in a moan, lips pouting out into a whimper as you start to gain traction. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groans, pushing his palm against his swollen length trapped within the confines of his jeans, begging for attention. He unbuckles his belt and tugs his pants off. At the same time, you pull your shorts down. Some sort of silent trade agreement.

Frankie wraps his hand around his cock and drags his grip down, pulling the sensitive, aching skin taught. His palm is dry and rough as he starts to rut up and down, but the friction gives his touch an edge that makes him shiver. 

You’re watching him do this while you trail your fingertips along the shiny ridges of your sex. Saliva pools in his mouth when he remembers what you taste like. Imagines his tongue tracing the soft folds of you.

Your hips buck and you whimper when you touch your clit. You roll the pads of your fingers against the engorged bundle of nerves, eyelids fluttering as you work yourself. 

You both find a steady rhythm, panting and whining, glancing between each other's legs, hands, eyes. The increasingly frantic movements make your bed squeak. 

The two of you are so lost in the haze of pleasure, Frankie knows either of you could suggest physical contact between your bodies and the other would immediately say yes, but this fucked up little loophole has you both blissfully dangling on the precipice. 

He’s trying to keep his commentary to a minimum, but you’re driving him fucking crazy. 

Your blown-out pupils watching him fuck his hand. The sheen of sweat lacing your skin. A thick, gleaming layer of arousal coating your pussy and fingers. He wants to lick it off of you, taste you, drive his cock inside you and feel that divine squeeze. 

As his heartbeat starts to gallop and the fire in his belly laps its way up his spine, he pants, “You’re so fucking hot, holy shit—do you like this? Like me watching you get off?”

“Yes,” you gasp, meeting his gaze, working yourself faster, “I do, Frankie, I like it.”

His name on your lips is like an electric jolt to his insides. He groans, “Say my name again.”

“Frankie,” you whimper. 

A wave of heat washes over him, “Fuck yes, that’s so fucking good, baby—say it again—”

“Frankie,” you moan, sinking two fingers into your cunt, a sick wet sound squelching out as you start to fuck yourself. 

“Such a good girl, holy fuck, that’s it,” he grunts, pumping himself faster, lightning churning in his belly, “Gonna make yourself cum, sweet girl?”

You nod feverishly, face pinched up with pleasure, hips arching into your touch, “Frankie—fuck fuck fuck—”

“There we go, baby, you can do it,” he rasps, and watches as your movements come to a fever pitch, then your body starts to shudder and you belt out this strangled moan that pushes him over the edge. 

Pleasure ripples through him and he grinds his fist down a few more times, pulsing his load all over his hand, across the bedding, a few splatters reaching your hip. He groans and slows.

His muscles start to melt. He throws his head back into the pillow, then rolls his head on his shoulders to look at you. 

Your chest is heaving and you’re all blissed out, a hazy smile on your lips. 

“You’re not gonna freak out, now, are you?” he pants, searching your face. He reaches over and gives you a playful poke to show he’s only half-joking. 

You meet his eyes smirking for a beat before you chuckle, “I don’t think so, but—could you get my, umm—inhaler?”

“Yeah,” he nods and rolls off the bed. 

When Frankie returns, you’re pulling your shirt down over your tits and propping yourself up on some pillows. 

“Thanks,” you murmur, then take it from him and inhale a few puffs. 

“You ok?” he asks as he rolls onto the bed next to you, wrestling a pillow under his chest. 

A coy smile plays on your lips when you glance over at him, shaking your head, “This was really dumb.”

He chuckles and shrugs, “Probably.” 

“Fuck,” you giggle, burying your face in your hands, “Frankie, why did we do that?”

“Because we’re big dumb idiots?” he laughs. 

“Speak for yourself,” you snort, curling up on your side to face him. 

“Sure, yeah, of course. You’re super smart,” he teases, pointing between him and you, “This is definitely something that smart people do.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you push his shoulder weakly. After a few moments of comfortable silence, you say, “We’re never going to speak of this again, are we?” 

He opens his mouth to make a joke and attempt to sweep it all under the rug, but stops when he realizes it probably warrants a conversation. 

“Do—is that what you wanna do?” he asks instead, stammering, “Because we can, you know, talk about it if you want to.“

“I don’t know what I want,” you sigh, your face folding into a thoughtful expression. A few moments pass, then your eyebrows shoot up and you look at him, “Ok, this is a weird time to ask this, but, I meant to ask you earlier and forgot.”

He nods, “Shoot.”

“My sister is getting married over Labor Day weekend, and because I’m her bridesmaid and family and blah blah blah, she wants me to go stay out there for the week, and umm, I don’t know how that works with your parole and stuff—”

“Do you want me to ask Ralph tomorrow?” 

“Well, yeah,” you meet his eyes, “But—but also, can you come with me?”

It takes a moment for Frankie to register the question, and when he understands, his mind starts whirring with uncertainty. Angie. Court. Ralph. Sarah. Prison. 

“Not, like, as my date or whatever,” you add, waving your hand around nervously as you explain, “I just–I haven’t been home in years because my family is the worst and I—” you sigh, face pinching up as you admit, “I could use a friend.” 

That makes up his mind. 

“Yeah,” he answers, “Yeah, as long as I’m not in fucking jail by then, I’ll make it work. Let me… let me talk to work and Ralph, see what I can do.” 

You give him a restrained smile and say, “Thank you.” 

After the two of you decide to get dressed and watch a movie, he goes into his bedroom to change into a pair of basketball shorts, while you supervise a packet of popcorn in the microwave. Giving his closed door a quick glance, he pulls the bundle of soft teal lace out of his pocket and opens a dresser drawer to tuck them away, but pauses when his thumb grazes something damp. 

His brows furrow, then shoot up as he unfolds the underwear and recognizes the slick substance coating them. He brings the fabric to his nose and inhales, confirming his suspicion. 

You must have noticed them when he was getting your inhaler. And rather than taking the panties back, or saying anything to him, you cleaned your arousal off and replaced them. 

He grins at the present, because that’s what it is, really, then shoves the lace into his dresser drawer. 

“Daddy, look, that’s Mumble,” Sarah tells Frankie, pointing one chubby, blueberry-stained finger at a plastic baby emperor penguin. 

Her collection of penguins is lined up on the edge of the dining room table, in order of smallest to biggest. She wriggles around on his lap, looking up at him with those big brown eyes, waiting for acknowledgement. 

“That one does look like Mumble,” he agrees emphatically, “What kind of penguin is he?” 

“A empreror penguin!” she beams, throwing her hands in the air. 

“That’s right,” he chuckles, “An emperor penguin! How many penguins do you have?”

Sarah’s eyes light up at the exciting new challenge, and she turns her attention to the plastic figurine lineup, counting each one out loud. 

Frankie glances across the table at Angie. She‘s glaring out the window, her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Ang,” he rumbles, but she doesn’t respond. A hot wave of frustration weaves through his muscles and pulls them taught. His nostrils flare and he shakes his head, muttering, “Whatever.”

The dining room chair scrapes against the floor as she pushes it out and stomps out of the room, down the stairs like a petulant child. 

Sarah stops counting and tells him, “Mommy’s mad.”

He chuckles softly at this and nods, “Yeah, I think so. I’m gonna go talk to her, ok, sweetie?”

Sarah resumes her counting when Frankie stands and sets her in the chair. He finds Angie in the laundry room, folding clothes with sharp, agitated movements. 

“Can we talk about this?” he asks. She doesn’t acknowledge him, so he continues, “Angelica. Come on. You haven’t said a word to me since I texted you on Saturday. Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“The fact that you don’t know what’s wrong is exactly what’s fucking wrong, Francisco,” she growls.

He sighs and steps closer, leaning one hip against the washer, “As much as I would love to be able to, I can’t read your mind. So if you could help me out, maybe give me a clue—”

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?” she snaps, tossing the small pink t-shirt in her hands into a laundry basket.

His head jerks back and he scoffs, “Sure.”

“You passed up time with your wife and daughter to be with your fucking mistress,” she blinks, then throws her hands up in the air, “Is it really so fucking inconceivable that I’m mad about that?” 

“First of all, she’s not my mistress,” Frankie asserts, crossing his arms, “Second, she almost fucking died, Ang, I couldn’t just leave her alone in the hospital.” 

“So, what, she didn’t have anyone else that could come sit with her in the hospital?” Angie snorts, raising an eyebrow, “I was about to say she’s a grown woman, she can take care of herself, but,” she sucks on her teeth and flashes him a faux sympathetic smile, “That’s barely true, isn’t it?”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, rolling his eyes, then stares at her, “You know that’s not true, and—and no, ok? She didn’t have anyone else to sit at the hospital with her. None of her family made it out, she doesn’t have any friends. Her boyfriend didn’t even come to visit, so,” he pushes off the washing machine and pinches the bridge of his nose, then drops his hand and lies, “I felt fucking bad for her, that’s all. She couldn’t breathe and was all sick and shit, and nobody cared enough to visit her. It was, I don’t know, it was sad and I felt shitty about leaving.”

She seems to consider this, then gives a little shrug, “That is kind of sad.”

He nods, searching her face, dark eyebrows all scrunched together in contemplation. 

“She has a boyfriend?”

He nods, “Yeah. They’ve been together for a while.”

Not exactly a lie, but he can tell a little truth stretching will bring this conversation to a more comfortable place. 

“I missed you,” he says in a pleading tone, meeting her eyes, hoping she buys it. 

She sighs, “I missed you too.”

The glint in her eyes tells him it’s safe to approach, so he does. He presses his lips against her forehead, closing his eyes as he murmurs, “I love you.”

When Frankie gets home, you and Rory are sitting on the couch watching a movie together. His arm is draped over your shoulders and you’re huddled in his lap, head on his chest. 

It reminds him of how the two of you are when no one else is around. 

His blood pressure spikes and heats his veins. You perk up as you notice him, putting space between your body and Rory’s. A nervous smile spreads across your face. He doesn’t return the smile, just nods in greeting as he closes the door behind him, “Hey.”

Rory looks him up and down, then turns back to the TV. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” you ask. 

Frankie frowns and shrugs, “Fine. What’re you guys watching?”

Your phone starts ringing before you can answer. You sit up and grab it off the coffee table, muttering, “It’s my sister, I’ll be right back,” then tiptoe through the house to your bedroom, leaving him and Rory alone. 

Frankie steps on the heel of his boot and starts to wriggle his foot free. 

“Hey, man, I wanted to tell you—thanks for looking after her last weekend.”

Frankie glances up at Rory as he kicks one boot off, then the other, “Sure, yeah,” then starts off towards his room. Rory keeps talking, though, so he pauses. 

“When she didn’t respond to me for a day I figured, ya know…” he shrugs, staring at him. 

Frankie frowns and shakes his head, “Figured what?”

“Figured she ran off with you, man,” he chuckles, but his eyes aren’t smiling. They’re studying. 

Frankie snorts and brings his hands to his hips, “What, really?”

Rory stands and saunters over, looking the way you left to make sure you’re still occupied, then tucks his hands in the front of his jean pockets and shrugs again, “Seems like y’all are pretty close. She doesn’t really like to talk about you. Kinda weird for someone who’s supposedly a friend.”

What kind of macho man bullshit is this? Is he… flexing? 

“Yeah, she’s pretty private,” Frankie searches the other man’s face. 

“Y’all ever fuck around?” he asks. 

Frankie jerks his head back and frowns, “Uhh, sorry, what?”

Rory doesn’t say anything, just lets the air between them grow more hostile, flicking his eyes around Frankie’s face like a challenge. One that he’s not fucking interested in taking. Christ, what a fucking mess that would be. 

Frankie scoffs and shakes his head, “No, we don’t fuck around. We’re friends. Ok?” He holds his hands up and tries to soften his face, “So, take it easy, she’s all yours.” 

Rory seems to relax a little, then says, “Alright.”

“Alright,” Frankie chuckles with amusement, “We good?” 

“Yeah,” Rory grins, offering a clenched fist to Frankie, “Sorry, man.” 

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” he bumps knuckles with the meathead and tells him, “You two have a good time, alright?”

Frankie retreats to his room and locks the door behind him. 

Every muscle in his body starts to deflate. 

His thoughts are fuzzy and loud. 

He starts for his bed, but pauses, and turns instead to the dresser, thinking of that teal lace. 

Today is one of those rare July days where it’s not just tolerable to be outside, it’s actually enjoyable. 

A slight breeze rustles the palm fronds above. The sun kisses Frankie’s skin. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of a neighbor’s charcoal grill. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

He cracks an eye open to find you standing over where he’s laying in the hammock and grins innocently, “What?”

“WhAt?” you mock him and snort, but pull up a chair and drop your little wicker basket in its seat, warning, “Ok, well, you’re sharing the hammock, at least.” 

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” he tucks a hand behind his head and watches you roll into the hammock facing him.

You wriggle around for an entire minute, and when he starts to giggle at your restlessness, you whine, “Oh my god, scoot over.”

“Here,” he murmurs, shifting his weight so you lay roughly hip to hip, hooking one arm under your legs, “Better?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. Your body calms. 

Then it’s quiet. 

And the silence isn’t anything but peaceful, really. 

“This is good,” you say eventually. 

He’s not sure what this you’re referring to, but he agrees, “Yeah.”

You point to the sky, “That cloud looks like a gator.”

Frankie squints upward, examining the fluffy cotton balls hanging in the electric blue atmosphere, “That one looks like a cloud.”

A snort erupts from your face and you lay a playful smack on his thigh, “Oh, come on, use your imagination!”

“Ok, let’s see,” he clears his throat and tilts the bill of his hat back to take in more of the view. Then one catches his eye. He points to it, “Butterfly.”

You follow his direction and murmur, “Oh yeah, look at that. Neat.” 

He studies it for a while, watching the two wings tumble and morph as it moves across the sky, until it’s just another nondescript cumulus cloud. Then he turns his attention to the basket you brought outside. 

The hammock wobbles in protest when he sits up and lays it across the middle ground of your bodies. Frankie surveys the contents of the shallow wicker basket: a baguette; a dish of soft, white cheese with a little spatula-like knife sticking out the center; a bowl of red grapes and sliced strawberries; a couple of mandarin oranges. 

He rips off a piece of bread and spreads some cheese across the soft inside, then sits back and takes a bite. You do the same, topping the cheese with some strawberries. As the two of you eat in a content silence, looking up at the sky, Frankie starts to ruminate on the confrontation that is surely lingering on the tip of your tongue. 

Neither of you have dared to mention how you got off together in your bed. Surprisingly, it hasn’t changed the energy between him and you. But he’s found himself wondering if he’s just oblivious and unable to sense your disquiet, like he has in the past. 

And now, since it’s Family Dinner, State of the Union, or whatever Ralph calls it, he braces himself for impact.

“Alright, let me have it,” he says after he finishes his second chunk of bread, nerves getting the best of him, “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

The hammock shifts unsteadily as you sit up and put the basket back on the chair, then you lay back and stretch out, releasing a heavy sigh, “Honestly… I kind of don’t know what to say about it. I—I don’t know. I don’t feel different or have any kind of strong feelings about what happened.”

Frankie hums and looks over at you, watching your serene, skyward face. 

“What about you? How do you feel?” you ask, leveling your gaze with his. 

“I feel… the same,” he answers, frowning, “Like I should have a strong feeling, but I—I just don’t?” 

“Yeah,” you chuckle, shrugging, “Well, I don’t know, should we just… leave it?” 

Relief washes over him and he nods, “I’m ok with that if you are.”

“Ok,” you grin, then look back up at the sky, “Anything else you need to get off your chest?” 

Frankie rifles through his brain, pausing to think about Rory and the odd confrontation that happened the other day. It left a bad taste in his mouth. But, he shakes his head, “No. You?” 

“I can’t think of anything.” 

“Alright,” he inhales the blissful breeze that tickles his sun-warmed skin, then exhales, repeating your earlier sentiment, “This is good.”

[ Next Chapter ]