#i miss them... i wish i could be sleeping against them both rn all warm and wrapped in blankets together | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jesswritesthat · 4 years ago

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hey babe! i love your writing so much!!! so i recently watched kaguya-sama: love is war and i was wondering if you could do a headcanon of kuroo, bokuto and atsumu where their crush gets sick and they visit her and she drags them into her bed to sleep with them? you can decide how it ends. thank you so much in advance if you do end up writing this! i love you and take care of youself💞

Hello lovely! Thank you so much for this, I’ve never seen Kaguya-Sama but it sounds really cute. Also take care of yourself too and I hope these are okay! Much love 💕

Summary: Bokuto, Kuroo and Atsumu checking up on their sick crush headcanons

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Bokuto Kōtarō:

• Has felt like he's been missing something all day but couldn't quite decipher what it was until Akaashi mentions how you're off sick.

• Thats when your phone is bombarded with ‘urgent’ messages inquiring about your wellbeing to the dramatic extent of:

[ Kou: (N/N)! You haven't answered me yet, are yOu StiLl AliVe?! ]

[ (N/n): no ]

[ Kou: Aw, can I have your cool headphones then, since you won't be needing them anymore? 😁💕 ]

[ (N/n): Wow Kou, I'll haunt your dumbass at Volleyball games for that. ]

[ Kou: Even in death, your support means everything to me. ]

• Despite his nonsense he kept updated with you throughout the school day by sending memes in hopes of raising your spirits. The most peace you got was during Volleyball Club time - the Ace too invested to message you at that point.

• At the end though he calls his team for a serious discussion and they're all expecting major improvements on their gameplay ready for Nationals.

But no.

"What can I get (N/n) to make her feel better, this is crucial. I need only good ideas!"

• They all knew about his crush on you, he wasn't exactly secretive about it but you were none the wiser. Even so, Fukurōdani offered what advice they could to their friend because like him, they cared about you too.

• "Akaashi picked up your schoolwork." Bokuto says as he walks into your room, waving the papers and placing them on your side.

"And you didn't think to take notes for me?"

"Nah, I wanted to bring you good stuff."

"Fair point."

• Bokutos likely brought everything he could find once he went home and changed/showered - he's got flowers, your favourite snacks, drinks, medicine and some movies to cure your boredom. Like how much do I owe you???

He's says it's fine though, in return you have to be better by tomorrow.

That's not how it works Kou.

• You're both seated on your bed watching some shitty movie when you start getting a bit sleepy and you just want warmth.

"Can you give me a hug Kōtarō? I just need a hug, I know how weird that sounds..."

• Doesn't even think twice about it, he practically tackles you onto the covers which elicits lovely giggles from you - the potential of him getting sick too isn't even considered, he's just focused on being with you and making you feel better.

• His arms are so warm and they’re beautiful, you forgot how toned he is and you grow so comfortable in his embrace. He’s also really relaxed about it and is calm enough to ramble on normally - except when you nuzzle against him during a cold shiver. Bokuto full on freezes mid sentence, releasing a cautious breath prior to changing the subject.

• It’s obvious he’s content with you though, and surprisingly falls asleep first which makes you laugh. Kōtarō keeps a strong but delicate hold on your body and is subconsciously receptive enough to your every move. You adjusted yourself slightly which stirred him, his voice is much huskier than before due to sleep but remains concerned.

“Can’t you sleep (Y/n)? I can-“

“I’m fine, you’re keeping me warm.”

• With a nod of understanding he’s gone again and you follow shortly afterwards, the both of you unintentionally making the nap a sleepover. Which you only realise the next morning - still in his arms even if the position has changed. You take a few minutes to enjoy it.

• Miraculously doesn't get sick, his immune system must be immortal as he's brimming with energy once he gets up. His radiance is actually contagious as you feel much better in yourself too and his vibrant attitude really motivates you for the day despite being physically exhausted from beating the flu.

• "Your partner is going to be blessed if you bring them breakfast, I mean talk about amazing." You comment as he brings up a plate that he’d crafted in your kitchen, which is surprisingly decent. You suppose he must keep his body fit somehow.

"My crush will have to do for now."

"Wait I - ah, you have a crush on me?"

"Hah, didn't you know? I never tried to hide it or anything."

Kuroo Tetsurō:

• Notices your absence immediately, he's observant by nature but especially where his crush is concerned and he isn't afraid to contact you before class starts.

• "Hey (Y/n), it's Kuroo, are you running late today?"

"Hnn, I'm not gonna make it. I tried but I feel awful - Sickness: 1, (L/n): 0." Already by the grogginess in your voice he can tell you're under the weather and winces at the sound of you stifling a cough.

"Ah geez, go to bed would you? And drink plenty of water, I'll inform the teachers and everything."

"Thanks Tetsurō, I owe you one."

• Will message you at regular intervals throughout the day regarding your health with cute little reminders. You were on his mind frequently, he’s lowkey worried okay?

[ Tetsu: Drink water, and eat breakfast if you can. ]

[ (Y/n): Yeah yeah I have, go learn something. ]

[ Tetsu: Why are you replying? Shouldn't you be sleeping it off - I don't want your germs. ]

[ (Y/n): Sharing is caring. ]

[ Tetsu: Oya? It took a cold for you finally admit you care, so is it gonna take a pandemic to say you love me? 😏 ]

[ (Y/n): 🖕🏻]

• Is actually considerate enough to tell you he'll swing by after practice, and asks if you want anything from the shop so you give basics like water and tablets. Comes equipped with the extra notes he's taken from all of your shared classes and requested papers from teachers in those you don't, so you're not falling behind.

• Aside from the bare minimum you requested, he chucks your favourite snacks on your desk stating that it’s important to keep morale high too. Liar. He just wanted to do something nice for you.

• Checks your temperature despite your protests of not being a child, he only does this because it vexes you and Kuroo finds that cute. As a silent apology for teasing the Hell out of you, he’ll make you some tea and you both get lost in conversation.

• Notices you’re starting to doze off, rest you should’ve had instead of texting everyone - but ensuring everything is fine, he’s about to stealthily exit until your fingers grasp his wrist and tug him back slightly.

"Stay Tetsurō..."

"You'll likely regret that request once you wake up."

"S'ok, it's you."

• The strength you have when tugging him into bed with you catches him completely off guard and he’s actually blushing - doesn’t know what to say but knows he has to at least maintain some composure.

“So uh, never knew you wanted me this badly.”

“Ugh shut up dumbass, I can feel your rapid heartbeat from here.”

“Right...”

• Kuroo goes all shy, you’ve wrapped your arms around his waist and are comfortably leaning against his side and he absentmindedly runs his fingers soothingly up and down your arm to settle his own nerves.

• It’s peacefully silent, simply enjoying one another’s company before he hears your muffled sniffles indicating you’ve fallen asleep and a soft smile graces his lips. If you were his, then he’d definitely kiss your forehead, and lips to be honest, but the fact you aren’t leaves him with a disappointed sigh.

• You both end up taking a nap, waking up wrapped in each other’s arms and noses practically touching which startled the Captain - Kuroo literally falling off of your bed with a yelp much to your amusement. Afterwards, he departs suggesting you get more rest, get better soon and he’ll see you at school next week.

• At least that was the plan, which altered with the text exchange the following morning.

[ Kuroo: Sharing is not caring, I wanted your snacks not your sickness! ]

[ (Y/n): RIP us. 💀 ]

[ Tetsu: You owe me one remember? I've got the house to myself this weekend so would you like to suffer together? I have blankets, entertainment and food. ]

[ (Y/n): Beats sniffling alone, I'll bring the tissues and drugs. ]

• So, you went over with a trail of sneezing in your wake and ended up snuggled with Kuroo under a blanket with a variety of games gracing the TV as you skilfully passed around the tissues. Aside from being ill, spending time like this with him was perfect.

• "Sickness: 2, (L/n) and Kuroo: 0..."

"No, Kuroo: 1.”

"How so? You K.O. a sneeze or something?"

"I got to spend the day with you didn't I? That counts as a win in my book."

"Tch careful, anyone would think the Scheming Captain cares~"

"I do smartass, I care about you a lot (Y/n)..."

Miya Atsumu:

• Atsumu wasn't one to act needy in any way, the only excuse for him to contact you in regards to your absence was to do it with a remark and hope you'd elaborate.

[ Atsumu: Yo, are ya ditching me to survive English on my own? That's cold (Y/n) 😭 ]

[ (Y/n): Sorry 'Tsumu, I'm too busy dying to care rn. Have a fun missing me loser. ]

[ Atsumu: Hah you wish, you alright tho? ]

• You're good friends but he's never really expressed genuine concern about you before, not verbally anyway. You thought the final "K" after you'd told him you were gonna rest would be the end of it.

So you were beyond surprised when he rocked up to your house later that evening.

• It took everything you had not to mock him for his embarrassed stature, solely flustered by the fact you'd seen him so considerate. Admittedly you were also exhausted and probably couldn't think of a snarky reply anyway.

• "What's up? Was there homework or - ugh, or something?"

"Huh? Oh I dunno. But uh, I got 'Samu to make you some Okayu, and a Umeboshi Tea since it's good for colds and stuff."

• Totally pestered Osamu all day to help him make you something and had to do stupid favours in return but Atsumu will deny it if you ever ask.

• “I love how you don’t care what you look like when you have guests over.”

“Take your stupid backhanded compliments and shove them up your pretty litt-“ You bite back, flipping him off in the process while Atsumu remains proudly victorious.

“Nah ah, is that any way to speak to the man who brought you dinner?”

“It’s the way to speak to the man whose currently annoying me.”

“You’re welcome, this is revenge for ditching me in class gorgeous~”

• Despite how irritating he could be, Atsumu stuck around for a bit to make sure you ate everything he’d brought and taken the appropriate medication.

• “Oh yeah, I brought that movie you were talking about the other day. Figured it might pass the time a bit.”

“Thank you! I’ll give it back once I’m better - thank you so much ‘Tsumu.”

Your excitement was endearing, and he had to collect himself a bit since admiring such little quirks was out of the question - his crush was bad enough as it is.

“Wanna watch it now? I haven’t got anything to do so I can give you spoilers.”

“Sounds good - and not a word!”

• You spent the afternoon watching the film and playfully wrestling the blonde in order to shut him up whenever he made an attempt to spoil it - he would never, but provoking you was too funny.

• You settle down later on, putting on a mindless tv show for background noise before collapsing onto your bed with groan. Atsumu raising a smug brow at your exhausted state as he threw his jacket on.

• "Wanna sleep with me?" It was innocent, at least you didn’t think much of it then.

"Do I what now?" He was smirking, thankful that your panic left you oblivious to the blush crawling up his neck at the mere insinuation alone.

"Sleep wit- ohh I did not think that through! I meant sleep in my bed, next to me, to help me drift off. Maybe it's the sleepiness or medicine but I really want you Atsumu..."

"Not helping your case at all." Again he smugly responded, dropping his jacket to the floor with a sly smile.

"Stop smirking and just hug me okay? Then you can leave and tease me about this later."

• Atsumu isn't awkward about it, subduing his nerves enough to pull you into his arms as he sits up - dutifully ignoring the butterflies in his stomach due to your close proximity and the intoxicating smell of your hair.

• Atsumu becomes unintentionally soft, his fingers slowly begin to glide through your hair and he hesitates when he feels the hum of contentment you release before continuing. Your whole body just relaxes against his and he subconsciously does the same, not even realising he was this tense around you - was his body always like that in your general presence?

• As you start quietly talking about nothing and everything, he notices a weakness - you’re a lot more open when drowsy and god he wants to take advantage but knows you’ll remember the questions he asked and murder him for it when you’re able.

• Intead he attempts to protect any dignity he thinks he has left with you - jokes on him, it’s absolutely none. You guys are way past that level and he knows it.

“You better get healthy quick, not that I care but English is really borin’ on my own ya know?”

"The people you truly care about must be really lucky to have you 'Tsumu..." The mumble is enough to make him roll his eyes, but he waits until you’re asleep to reply.

"Yeah... you are..."

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

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thermaflute · 4 years ago

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Hitoshi Shinsou x Reader

a/n: As promised, I finished that damn essay so here’s some smut. I whipped it up pretty quickly but yeah, need me this energy rn 😳.

Summary: It’s been a long time since you’ve two have had a proper night together. It’s starting to get on your nerves...

Warning: Angst (and comfort lol), cussing, 18+ activities, all characters are in their 20′s

Word Count: 2.5

You eyed yourself in your mirror after applying lip gloss, it’s been about 30 minutes since he said he’d be here. You’ve been adjusting yourself in this tiny mirror for hours, feeling your heart fill and deflating with every car you think is his but isn’t. Your chest seemed to slouch uncomfortably in your outfit, you sighed and went fixing it so they appeared decent. You gave yourself one final smile and decided you didn’t want to wait outside anymore.

“Yes, I’m under Ms. L/N.” The host smiles at you and leads you across the restaurant. The restaurant was a comfortable cold, lit by warm lamps and blue lighting. Definitely felt too fancy but you wanted to give it a chance. Your host smiles again and places the menus down on the table. It was covered in a white cloth, multiple cutlery, and 4 different glasses. As someone who’s used to wobbly folding tables and the harsh scratched up wood in bars, this was very different for you.

The sun was setting over the buildings and it just seemed so romantic. You made a mental note to take a photo together when Shinsou arrives.

Your waiter approaches the table with bread and some kind of oil before filling 2 of the 4 glasses with water. “Hello, is there anything we could start you off with this evening or are you waiting for a guest.”

You smile sheepishly at the waiter, “I’m waiting, but I would actually like to order some wine, I don’t know any brand names though so give me whatever you think tastes the best.”

“Sure! I’ll be right back out with that.”

You pulled out your phone, hoping to get a text that he was on his way or approaching but it was still nothing. The waiter returned with the bottle and filled your glass, the other glass remained empty. You slowly watched lights flicker on, continuing off where the sun left off about an hour ago.

You honestly should’ve left hours ago but you didn’t want to face the embarrassment of leaving alone, but at this point you think the waiter feels the embarrassment for you. You take another look at the city at night, deciding it was time to join everyone else in going to bed. The second your legs lifted up you feel a hand shove you down, you look up confused for your eyes to meet with two purple ones. Your look of confusion turns into a frown. “I’m kind of tired Toshi, I’d like to leave.”

“I’m sorry kitten, there was a crime spree tonight and they really needed my help. It’s been terrible. But I know you’ve been waiting for long, please don’t go. He watches you struggle with your emotions before sighing and putting your bag back on the table. He takes his own seat and sits across from you. “I haven’t been at home lately-”

“You got that right.” You weren’t trying to be pissy, it was just weeks of getting put on the back burner that seemed to be pouring out of you now. “I’m sorry Hitoshi, I just, really wish you were around more. I know being a hero is important to you, so it’s important to me too. I just- I just want to see you more often, and on time, that’s all.”

He stays silent for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. He really hasn’t seen you as much as he’d like to, oftentimes he came home and you were already asleep. He wanted a warm meal with his baby, not leftovers in the fridge and your sleeping back to him. “I will take some days off, and we can do absolutely nothing for a few days, just the two of us.”

He looks at your disgruntled face turn into a small smile, “Really? That sounds great, maybe we can have a picnic. We haven’t had one of those since High school?”

“Has it really been that long?”

“Well, depends on if you count that time we broke down and ate that sandwich outside as a picnic.” You both laugh at that, the air seemed to clear and you two ordered for real this time.

Dinner was saved, and you had a great time, both of you seeming to forget that you were at a fancy restaurant and talking about nonsense until they closed.

You got into his car and settled into the passenger seat, ready to get home and just cuddle with your boyfriend. A call rings down his cell and he answers it with urgency. “Yes? Oh.”

You look at him quizzatively, and he looks at you knowing fully that you’re about to get mad.

“Yes. I’ll be there soon.”

“Hitoshi! Where are you going?!”

“I know I just apologized about this but, I have to go to work again. There’s a raid operation tonight and I’m the only person that can get it done.”

“Bullshit.”

“You can get upset about it as much as you want but It’s important for me to be there.”

He closed the door to his shared apartment quietly, he didn’t want to disturb your sleep. Two cats ran through his legs, they also missed seeing him around. “Ah, I’ve been neglecting everyone huh?” The two cats purred and chirped as he pet them, not knowing a thing about relationship problems.

_____

He opened the door to the bedroom slowly, he heard your earbuds blaring music. You were definitely awake and just being sad. He left you alone and showered, not wanting to track rubble and ash everywhere.

“I don’t care man, just drop me off.” He rolled his eyes at your attitude and drove off into the night. The two of you pulled up to the apartment and you left without even saying goodbye, he saw the tears in your eyes as you walked into the building. He sat there momentarily, wondering if he should chase after you but he realized you wouldn’t listen and left it alone.

You heard the shower turn off through your music and waited for your love to wrap his arms around you. The touch never came, instead you heard him exit the room entirely with his own set of blankets, cueing you to run out to him. “So you want to sleep alone?” You looked at him with pure exhaustion in your eyes, you were waiting for him to come home.

“No, I just didn’t know if you were still upset and wanted to give you some space.”

“The last thing I want from you is some space. I just want you, but it feels like you don’t want me.”

He looks at you hurt that you’d even say that. “Hey you know that's not true, don’t tell me that.”

“Don’t tell me I’m lying when I know I’m not.”

“You don’t sound like you know anything right now.”

You looked infuriated, “Okay, cool. Keep the bed, I’m staying with a friend tonight.”

“No you’re not Y/n,” he grabs your wrist and stares at you intensely.

“Yes I fucking am, let me go.” You pull from his grasp.

“Are you done acting like a bitch?”

“Actually, I’m no-” You feel yourself slacken and stop. Your brain makes the motions to move but your limbs would not respond, he was definitely using his quirk on you.

He grabs your arms firmly and stares at you, clearly pissed as well. “Good, now that you’re done being a brat. I love you, and I know I haven’t been around enough to say it but don’t just assume I don’t want you.” You said nothing of course, but god did you feel his deep voice. “Walk to the room.”

You follow his command and walk in, he lets his control of you go and you look at him, a mixture of still anger and...something else in your eyes. “So being pissy is what it takes to use your quirk on me, okay.” He knew he shouldn’t have done that but he really would’ve hated himself if he let you leave.

“Look, I-”

“Do it again.” The tense air fills with confusion, he doesn’t really think he heard you clearly.

“Wait did you say to do it again?”

You nodded at him, “Yes, or do I have to complain again to get you riled up.” The empty feeling returned to your head as you felt yourself float away to blankness.

“I never stopped being mad at you the first time. If I knew you were into this we could’ve done this a long time ago.” You said nothing, he smiled. “Take off your shirt.”

You felt your fingertips graze your body as you completed an action that was simultaneously entirely and not entirely of your own volition. You felt yourself already reeling, it’s been about a month since you two have had sex and you didn’t realize how badly you missed the feeling until just then.

He hummed to himself and hovered above you, grabbing your chin as you stared off into nothing. “Look at me”. You comply, and he stares back at you, ravenous. “You’ve been very bitchy today, I can think of plenty of other uses for your smart mouth, can you?” You continue to stare at him, you wish you could just put your mouth on his dick already but the fact that you can’t move at all is what’s getting you going. He strokes his hand through your hand and settles on the back of your hair. His other hand makes quick work of his underwear and you feel your body tighten at the sight of his dick, god it was so pretty.

He let it rest against your cheek, you still stared up at him, motionless. He could feel your breath against his length and he so badly wanted to shove himself down your throat. You made no movements that weren’t ordered, but he can tell through your eyes that you were desperate for this as well. But not tonight.

He pulled your hair back so you’d fall backwards onto the bed, he easily pushed you further back and got on his knees. “Don’t move”. God he knows you’re a squirmer. You wish you could see him, but you had to settle on the feeling of him sliding your underwear off unbearably slow before returning to breathe inches away from your heat. You felt kisses up your thigh as he situated his large hands on the sides of your hips. At this rate you were going to cum instantly the second he touched you. You could feel him laugh against you. “I didn’t know you liked this that much”, he kisses your heat and begins to lavishly tend to the flame that’s been burning in you for weeks now. He kept to slow circular motions that turned a lot more passionate, he was eating you out like it was his last meal. It was the strangest sensation ever, you wanted to writhe so badly, wanted to push yourself up against him, wanted to grab his hair and scream but your body laid their limp as if you weren’t even there. Truly you weren’t, even your thoughts were fuzzy and fading, it’s as if you were viewing this from a foggy window. You could feel everything though, every flick, every slurp, every finger, everything. You tried concentrating on your incoming orgasm when he suddenly let’s his control of you go. Immediately you begin to cry out, not being too concerned that it was nearly 3 AM. Your hand immediately entwines with those gorgeous purple locks of his and you feel yourself teeter the edge of insanity.

His fingers curl upwards and rubs the top of your walls at a sickening pace, the intensity on your clit is still as wild as it was before. You feel yourself bite down in an attempt to silence your orgasm but it came out anyway in harsh gasps and moans, it sounded like you were sobbing.

He licks his fingers and you watch him with a desperate look in your eye, feeling your orgasm taper into lust again.

“You ready for more,” he asks with a devilish smile on his face.

“Pleas-” You fade into the haze again, you can’t wait to have your hips broken in.

“Lay back kitty, I’ve treated you really nicely, but now I’m going to show you what happens to bitches that want to argue.” You move backward and he follows you further up your shared bed, the loving look in his eyes when he was between your legs was no longer present. He was going to use you, violently, as hard and as fast as he wanted to, and you were gonna watch. His hips quickly made contact with yours and he stopped, slowly dragging out of you so your walls could miss him. He smiled at you and caressed your cheeks before he slammed into you all the way once more, his purple eyes piercing through yours as you felt your walls throb on him. His pacing became frantic, his strong hands were gripping the life out of your hips, your ragdolled body doing nothing but taking everything he could give you.

“Raise your hips.” You did as you were told, the new angle making your thighs desperately want to buckle but his focus on you kept you sturdy. He was absolutely relentless, his own groans were loud and as rough as his movements. He felt your walls clenching around him and he gripped down hard on your thighs, deciding he wasn’t going to let you go this time.

Your whole body ached and you felt like you were on the verge of either collapsing or going to heaven. The hazy cloud in your brain knocked any other thought but his dick out of your mind, in this moment the only thing that mattered was the orgasm you were about to get fucked into.

“God you’re still such a fucking slut for me. I haven’t seen you so lewd since we first moved in. I guess I should give you what you want. Come for me kitty.”

Just like that you came, hard. His own incoming orgasm ruined his focus on you and you began to repeat his name like a mantra as you saw the blistering whites of heaven. He buckles into you, violently gripping your shoulders as he unloads inside of you, he watches your eyes roll to the back of your head at the sensation of his cum filling you. You’re both happy in heaven, loving this moment of sincerity and closeness. Your ears continued to ring as you tapped his shoulder, he pulled out of you and moved up to hug you.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here, I really am Y/n, you’re the most important person to me and I don’t know where I’d be without you” he lets out between his still harsh breathing.

“I’m sorry I wouldn’t listen Toshi, I just really missed you and I was scared that you were tired of me.”

“That’s impossible” he laughs into the crook of your neck and you both feel ready to fall asleep but know that you have to clean up first.

“Toshi?”

“Yes?”

“Could you carry me to the shower, my legs hurt.”

You can feel him chuckle against you before moving to pick you up, “of course kitten.”

#shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinsou #shinso x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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fangirl-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Home Sick

70s!Roger x Reader x Ben

Warning(s): Swearing, mentions of sex, Roger being a little shit

Notes: How does this universe work, you ask. Shhhh, I tell you, just let us live in fantasy land. Aka I watched BoRhap again and I'm a sucker for Rog and Ben. Also very inspired by @strangeandwonderfulconcepts ‘s versions of this couple. I feel like it’s kind of all over the place, though.

Summary: Ben's away for filming and you're left at home with Roger who's working on Queen's new album and annoying you.

“Roger Taylor, I swear to God!”

Ben bit his lip as a smile spread across his lips, trying not to laugh at your outburst. He was sat in his hotel room, phone pressed to his ear, enjoying the small amount of downtime he had before filming resumed the next day. “What’s he done now?”

“He keeps poking me in the ass with his drumsticks. Oh!” You (who was back at Roger’s mansion in Surrey) cried out again. “Roger I will throw this lamp at you!”

Ben heard Roger’s muffled reply in the background. He could picture the mischievous grin on his face.

“Oh, so the lamp’s important but that TV you threw out the window- it is not different!”

Ben couldn’t stop smiling. The bickering was a little childish and silly, but it warmed Ben’s heart to hear the two people he loved the most bicker about nothing.

“And put that damn cigarette out! You’ll burn the house down with that nasty habit.”

Ben could tell Roger was right next to you now as he said. “Ben thinks it’s sexy. Don’t you, Ben?”

“Yeah, well, Ben also thinks you look sexy in leopard print.”

“Hey!”

Ben couldn’t hold back his laughter now.

Both you and Roger were smiling at his laugh on the other end, playfully shoving each other to get closer to the phone so you could hear him.

You let out a squeal suddenly and Ben heard the crash of something that he assumed to be the lamp mentioned earlier. “Honestly!”

He could hear Roger laughing as he ran away. You’d obviously missed him with the lamp.

“God, Ben, I’ve got to go. Our boyfriend is being a pain in the ass and I’ve gotta kiss the brains outta him. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“’Course. Tell Rog, I love him.”

"Of course,”

“G’night, Y/N,” Ben said. “Love you.”

“We love you, too, Ben. Goodnight.”

You hung up and Ben sat there quietly for a moment, the phone still pressed to his ear as he remembered the sound of the laughter. God he missed them.

He’d worked on projects this long before but they’d always been right there in London where he could grab a taxi or have Roger come and pick him up at the end of the day. Now he was out of the country and he realized how much he took for granted the time he got to spend at home.

He assumed Y/N and Roger were accustomed to the situation. Roger was always gone on tour for months after they released a new album and Y/N sometimes had to travel for work, but Ben was always at home with one of them. Now he was the one branching off.

He set the phone on the nightstand and laid down in the white sheets of the hotel bed.

It felt odd, almost foreign to him; laying alone in a bed. Roger wasn’t there to snuggle his face into his neck or play with the hair at the nape of his neck. Y/N wasn’t there to spoon him or tangled their legs together. No playful fighting over the covers, no cold feet or wandering hands, no drumming of Roger’s fingers against his arm, no Y/N drawing shapes on his back. It was funny to think how much he’d grown accustomed to the feeling of not just one but two people (his two people) laying in bed with him.

He fell asleep with those thoughts and a longing ache in his chest.

Meanwhile, you were chasing Roger through the house, trying to take his drumsticks from him after he’d poked you in the ass one too many times. The two of you had just finished up doing...things and were enjoying a sweet moment until the drumsticks made a return.

Roger was laughing hysterically and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t grinning from ear to ear.

You were clad in only Roger’s white button up, your underwear, and socks while Roger had opted to only return to his boxers.

Suddenly he was cornered in the kitchen and you jumped onto his back, reaching an arm over his shoulder for the sticks still clutched in his hand, but he’d stuck his own arm out over the countertop so you couldn’t reach them.

“Roger, give them here!”

“Over my dead body!”

“That can be arranged!”

Roger burst into another fit of laughter and you giggled into his ear, still straining for the drumsticks.

You eventually gave up, dropping your hand and laying your head on Roger’s shoulder, breathing heavily as the laughter died down. He dropped the drumsticks on the counter and hooked his arms under your legs to help hold you up; a smile still on his lips and his cheeks sore from laughter.

You closed your eyes and it was silent for a few moments.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, lovie?” He asked softly.

“Thinking that Ben would’ve been filming or taking pictures of us if he’d have been here...”

Roger hummed in agreement, walking from the kitchen towards the lounge. “I miss him, too,”

You still had your eyes closed, trusting Roger to set you down gently wherever he was taking you. “I wish you weren’t working on the album so we could go see him.”

“Me too. The boys’ve been exhausting lately. I love ‘em, but there’s only so much you can take sometimes.”

“Well, three explosive personalities plus Deacy-”

“Hey, you haven’t seen Deaks mad. It’s scary.”

“Yeah, well, I try to stay on his good side unlike somebody I know who likes to push buttons.”

Roger rolled his eyes as he deposited you onto the couch. You laughed as you bounced off the cushons before laying down, Roger crawling on top of you and laying on your chest.

“We would not fit nearly as well on this couch with Ben,” You commented with a grin.

“Yeah, we’ve tried, though. One of us always ends up on the floor.”

“Or squooshed,”

“Or both,”

You both smile, an ache running through your chests.

“He’s been gone far too long.”

“Yeah, when’s his film ‘sposed to wrap anyway?”

“Not sure. Should ask him when he calls tomorrow.”

Roger groaned. “Tomorrow is so far away.”

You ran your fingers through his hair. “Indeed it is,”

You fell into a comfortable silence after that. You putting Roger to sleep as you massaged his scalp and you lost in thought, staring at the ceiling.

“You think the boys might give you a few days off if I promise them you’ll be less grumpy when we get back?”

Roger looked up at you with a pout. “I am not grumpy.”

“You are too,” You said, a smile spreading across your face. “You miss Ben and when you miss one of us you get grumpy. Like that time on tour when you snapped a drumstick when you weren’t able to call us one night? Or when you busted a tambourine after we weren’t able to make it to the nearest show? Or when-”

“Okay, okay, I get it, I’m destructive.”

You laughed and Roger laid his head back down on your chest. “I suppose they might give that a go.”

“Then I’m calling Freddie,”

*** Ben woke up the next morning reaching out across the bed; searching for warmth that wouldn’t be there. He groaned, heart slightly heavy, as he shut off his alarm.

A shiver ran up his spine as he sat up and he cursed himself for not turning up the temperature before heading to bed. That had been the one advice Roger had given him before he departed. “When waking up alone in your hotel room, the temperature will always be colder than you want it. Check it before bed.”

He didn’t have time to dwell on his heartache before he had to gather his bearing and head to the set for his early shoots, but he missed Y/N’s good luck kisses and, oddly, Roger’s smack to his bottom before he would head out the door for a day of filming.

He shut the door to his hotel room and shook his head, trying to shake the homesick thoughts from his mind.

They wouldn’t do him any good anyway. It’s not like he’d be able to satisfy the ache.

Or so he thought.

***

You and Roger were currently sat on a plane, headed for Ben’s filming location.

Roger’s blonde hair was stuffed inside a cap and he had on a dark pair of sunglasses in an attempt to hide his identity. You’d asked him if he’d dye his hair black but he outright refused the offer.

“Love, I know you want this to be a surprise, but even if any paps or fans see us Ben hardly checks that stuff when he’s not filming. I doubt he’d bother while he is.”

You sat next to him, asleep, eyes closed with your sunglasses on, hair loose around your face, and the hood of your jumper pulled up on your head. Your earbuds playing your favorite music.

It was an early flight and you’d been up most of the night preparing for this spur of the moment trip. You wanted everything to be perfect.

“I can sleep on the plane,” You’d told Roger.

And you did.

Roger laid his head on top of yours as you dozed on his shoulder, a book held between his fingers to pass the time, but, truthfully, he couldn’t focus on it. For some reason he had a lot on his mind.

The three of you hadn’t gone public with your relationship, but the paps had taken notice of Roger’s “mysterious lovers” and Ben and Roger had been seen talking at a party a few times, heaven forbid, but Roger had never dwelled on it before. You didn’t go to events together, never went on vacations together, Ben and you still had your own apartments away from Roger’s house so when he was gone on tour you wouldn’t be questioned coming out of his house while he wasn’t there; you’d taken practically every precaution to make sure the press wouldn’t find out before the three of you were ready.

Roger dug into his jacket pocket for his phone, discarding the book onto the table in front of him.

He opened social media with good intentions.

#rogertaylorxy/n-l/n

OMG did you see the way Roger looked at Y/N during the interview? #hearteyes

Roger is so in love with Y/N. They should just get together already. #(your-ship-name)

(you-ship-name) is real ❤

Roger resisted the urge to like any of them before moving on.

#rogertaylorxbenhardy

Ben said he wasn’t looking for a relationship rn but he looks at Roger says otherwise 👀

Roger and Ben spend an awfully large amount of time together for two people who claim to be ‘just friends’.

Forget Maylor have you seen the way Hardylor look at each other?

Roger snickered quietly. Okay, maybe he and Ben weren’t doing the greatest job either.

He stroked his chin for a moment before taking to the keyboard again.

#benhardyxy/n-l/n

Y/N and Ben seemed awfully friendly during her interview with him #(your-ship-name)

Have you seen the pictures of Ben and Y/N at that coffee shop together??? I bet it was a date 💘

Y/N brought Ben a flower at the BAFTAs to put in his suit pocket and he never took it out! I bet he still has it.

Observant, Roger thought, Ben definitely still has the fake flower.

He hummed in thought. What if...

#benhardyxy/n-l/nxrogertaylor

Y/N spends a lot of time with Roger Taylor and Ben Hardy outside of a professional setting. Who’s she dating though??? What if it’s both???

OMG BEN AND Y/N WERE SEEN LEAVING ROGER’S HOUSE! IN THE MORNING!!!

I bet Y/N Ben and Roger are all dating and just keeping it on the down low. We’ve all seen the heart eyes they give each other.

Y/N and Roger just got on a plane heading to the place Ben’s filming in as seen by his Instagram story. Coincidence?

Roger’s eyes went wide. He checked the timestamp: 20m ago.

Well, Y/N was right. Maybe he should’ve died his hair.

“Looking for something in particular?” Y/N asked, eyes now opened sleepily and looking at phone screen from his shoulder.

“Not really,” Roger replied. “Just curious. Seems the fans are supportive...and onto us.”

He handed you the phone and you squinted at the screen.

“Queenskiller, huh? Clever person.”

“I can see why you were paranoid now,”

You laughed. “We’re almost there. As long as it’s not obvious where we’re going, we’ll be fine.”

***

“And CUT! Good work today everyone, let’s wrap up for lunch.”

Ben sat up from his position where his character had just been beaten to near death and went to get the fake blood cleaned off of him by the makeup designer.

The radio in the trailer was fading out a Beatles song and fading in Bohemian Rhapsody.

It made Ben’s heart ache.

“Hey, did you see Y/N L/N’s new interview with Harry Styles and Elton John?”

The makeup artist removing the makeup shook their head. “Not yet, is it good?”

“Of course. She asks them about their collaboration, similar tastes in style, and she doesn’t mention their sexualities like every other interviewer does.”

“Thank god for her, she’s a blessing. All those other nosy interviewers don’t ever ask anything interesting. The celebrities always do all the work to make the interview enjoyable. At least Y/N is interesting.”

Ben couldn’t help but smile softly to himself. He was proud.

“Have you heard she might be dating Roger Taylor?”

“The Queen drummer? Yeah. I heard they were getting on a plane together this morning.”

“Secret honeymoon?”

“Maybe,”

Ben’s eyebrows furrowed. They got on a plane? They didn’t mention they were going anywhere on the phone.

“Ben, you okay there, dear?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, sorry. Just lost in thought.”

Ben exited the trailer with a clean face and a wandering mind.

It wasn’t unlike Y/N and Roger to be spontaneous but Roger was working on the album and he thought Y/N had another interview today.

Ben shook his head and pulled out his phone. Whatever. He’d just call them and get things cleared up. He was done on set for the remainder of the evening anyway.

He hit the home phone number and waited as it rang.

And rang. And rang.

“Thank you for calling Roger Taylor’s home phone, but I am currently out at the moment. Leave a message and I might call you back.”

Ben hung up.

Okay, so they weren’t home. No big deal, he could still call your cells.

He hit your contact and waited as it rang.

***

You were rolling your luggage out of the airport with Roger when I Saw Her Standing There blasted from your phone.

Recognizing Ben’s personal ringtone, you picked up the phone. “Hey, Benny, what’s up?”

“Nothing much. Just got done filming. Hey, did you and Roger go somewhere? Makeup artists were gossiping about it.”

You gave Roger a panicked look before quickly answering. “Oh, no. Must’ve been wrong. We’re just out for a walk.”

Roger rolled his eyes at your terrible lying skills.

But Ben seemed relieved. “Oh. I thought you might’ve gone somewhere and forgotten to tell me.”

“Oh no, not at all we just-”

Roger pulled you cellphone from your fingers and pressed it against his ear.

“Ben, you don’t need to worry about us. We’re doing fine.”

The rental car you and Roger had gotten pulled up and you quickly tossed you suitcase in the back and jumped in the passenger. Roger took the keys and got in the driver’s seat.

“I know, but I just wanted to make sure. Kept eating at me.”

“Ben, baby, where are you at, right now?”

“Uh, outside the set just about to head back to my hotel, why?”

“Oh, no reason. What hotel’s that again?”

“Lotus Hotel, why?”

“Just curious. Are they treating you right or do I need to make a phone call.”

“Christ, Rog, it’s find. Don’t freak. Are you driving? I thought Y/N said you were on a walk.”

“Oh, we just got back to the house and need to head to the store. Nothing too interesting.”

“A trip to the store with you is always interesting.”

“He’s not wrong,” you chirped from your seat and Roger sent you a playful glare, making you laugh.

Ben smiled. “Gosh I wish I could speed up the production. I’ve been gone from you two way too long.”

“Believe us, Benny, we agree. Hold on, gonna give you back to Y/N,”

He handed you your phone back as you handed him his for directions to the hotel.

“How was filming?” You asked, trying to change the subject.

“All right. Filmed the fight scene today, that was interesting.”

You hummed in response.

“Hold on, Y/N, I just got in a taxi- yes, take me to the Lotus Hotel on thirteenth please.”

“Thirteenth?” Roger cursed. “Stupid phone says twelfth.”

“It’s on the corner of the two. He’s coming from the other direction, remember?” You replied, hand covering the receiver.

“What was that, love?” Ben asked.

“Oh, nothing, Roger just missed the turn, again.” You quickly replied. “You said you filmed a fight scene today?”

“Yeah, my character, Jack, got the piss beat out of him in a fight. Gets pretty bloodied up.”

“Well, you know nothing can make that pretty face of yours prettier than blood.”

“Is that a reference to my bloody nose? ‘Cause I keep tellin’ you it was a one time thing.”

You laughed. “Just teasing you, baby,”

Ben let out a laugh of his own, leaning back against the leather seat. “I really miss you guys.”

“We miss you, too. I hope that- Roger it was right there! Oh, jesus, Ben, I gotta go, Roger’s missing turns again. See you soon.”

The line cut off before Ben could question you. See you soon?

***

“’See you soon.’?! Bloody hell, Y/N, why don’t you just give away your own surprise.” Roger said.

“Well, if you hadn’t missed the turn I wouldn’t have had to hang up!” You retorted. “We need to get there before him, remember?”

Roger stuck his tongue out at you as he turned the car around.

You stuck yours out as well and it turned into a fit of giggles throughout the car.

Finally, Roger pulled into the hotel’s parking lot and parked the car in a spot.

“Your turn to call him, Mr. Taylor,” You said, getting out of the directions and handing him his phone.

Roger put the phone to his ear and waited for Ben to pick up.

“Roger?”

“Benny! Made it to the hotel, yet?”

“Uh, no, close though. You not driving anymore?”

“Nah, Y/N is in the store. She wouldn’t let me go in with her. Thought I might get a little more chat outta you before she comes back.”

Ben laughed. “I guess I’ll allow that.”

“Popular boy, ain’t ya?” The driver asked as he turned the corner into the hotel lot.

Ben grinned. “Yeah, I ‘spose I am.” He handed the driver the money for the trip. “Keep the change.”

The driver tipped his cap at Ben and Ben got out of the taxi.

“Sorry, Rog, what were you saying?”

“Oh, not much, just wondering who let you walk off set in those joggers. They look hideous.”

Ben looked down at the old green joggers he was wearing with a laugh. “Yeah, I need to get a new pair- wait, how’d you know I was wearing joggers?”

Ben heard a whistle and turned around.

Y/N was waving and smiling from where she was sat on the trunk of a car and Roger was stood next to her, phone still pressed to his ear, with a big ol’ grin on his face.

Ben dropped the phone from his ear, ending the call, and ran over to them.

Roger intercepted his boyfriend, who practically jumped into his arms, and Y/N hoped off the car to join them in the hug. Ben wrapped an arm around her, squeezing the two of them tightly, tears beginning to pool in his eyes.

“Oh, I can’t believe you’re here!” He said, pulling back finally.

You and Roger laughed.

“Y/N’s a bad liar,” Roger quipped, nudging your side.

“Hey! I’m not the one who got lost!”

“I missed one turn!”

Ben kissed them on the cheek. “Shut up, the both of you, please.”

You and Roger melted, forgetting your bickering and appreciating his presence.

***

Ben went to sleep that night with both of you in his bed.

Roger had immediately turned down the thermostat and Y/N rubbed Ben’s shoulders to relax him. They fought over the covers, had a pillow fight, and made sure that Ben was in the middle.

It felt right. It felt like home.

“You two are amazing to me,” Ben said as his partners snuggled into him.

“You deserve it,” Y/N mumbled, laying against Ben’s chest, his heartbeat lulling her to sleep.

“Don’t ever leave us this long again,” Roger said, pressing a kiss to Ben’s neck.

Ben smiled. “Guess you two will just have to come see me, again,”

#ben x reader x roger #roger taylor x reader x ben hardy #bxrxr #benxrogerxreader #roger taylor imagine #ben hardy imagine

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bibliocratic · 5 years ago

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Ooo jonmartin prompts ya say? 👀 If you're still taking requests, I'm really feeling some Supportive Monster Boyfriends angst rn. Either jon being Very Eye and martin calming him down, or martin being Very Lonely and Jon pulling him back, whichever....😁 --@screaming-introvertedly

Here you are! Supportive Martin and the Eye-based horror his boyfriend sometimes turns into like some sort of shitty superpower

(some content warnings for violent imagery and graphic hurt/comfort, I’ll add more detail to the tags.

Jon rocks him awake violently, his nails leaving reddened half-moons in the skin of Martin’s arm, clamping his other hand vice-tight over his mouth. He is panicked and panicking and Martin’s pulling his beaten, aching body up out of muddy awakening, dredging together the scraps of energy he has left.

Jon releases him, and makes sloppy gestures, their meaning imperfectly delivered with how rushed he’s being; Up. Leave. Corruption. Now. Leave. Now. Now.

His mouth and hands make a terrified picture of desperation, and Martin’s staggering to standing, steadying himself on the rust-mossed bannister of the car park stairwell they’ve been sheltering in, trying to shuck exhaustion from his limbs to paw around for his backpack.

It’s too late anyway.

Martin can hear the skittering, scraping tumult approaching up the floors below, and Jon must know something he doesn’t, because he’s grabbing Martin’s hand and tugging him manically up, pushing him when he thinks Martin’s going too slow, and their feet are tripping on the concrete stairwell and still Jon is trying to pull them both upwards with nothing but his will and shaky legs. Their thumping, irregular steps echo in the boxy space, and still they aren’t fast enough.

They come as a mass. A roiling, compacted sea of matted, boil-plagued fur and knotted tails. Mouths frothing rapid cry out a hideous rending song that scampers and squeals, and they pour up the steps like a wave and break against them as they run.

Martin fights hard as they’re blocked in at a higher landing. He’s getting good at fighting these days. He scythes with a home-made weapon of brute force and nails while Jon burrows into their backpack, and then he’s being handed a flare as Jon casts down a glugging spill of petrol, and that when illuminates in a fetid barbecue stench takes out a good few of them. Yet they are legion and there are only two of them, and they were shattered and wasting before even this assault, and Martin is not fast enough.

He remembers hearing Jon holler in agony, his body turning in a pirouette of violent motion and intended impact and private terror, and he doesn’t even manage to complete his turn. A rat-king, made of up dozens of writhing furry bodies latches into his leg, using the leverage to claw savagely at his chest with a dozen back legs, a mauling amalgamation of impossible, flesh-rot limbs.

Something chomps into the meat of his arm and dangles there. He screams himself, the sound too big in the stairwell, a return cry of a dozen distant howling Martins, and his body shudders felled as he’s pulled down, and he keeps on screaming. He’s lost sight of Jon. There’s blood and matted fur over his eyes. His lungs expanding with a breathless terror, he tries to batter them away like midges in a summer heat as they swarm over him and take him for food.

The patter of their nailed feet over his cheeks, the paper-cut, dig-drag sensation of the onslaught, the decisive and brutal splitting bite and rip of the skin of his throat.

“Stop.”

The rats stop. So does Martin. The scream bubbles un-made and unvoiced in his chest and he can’t blink the blood out of his eyes. He can’t see Jon, but he doesn’t expect to. It’s not Jon that’s here with them any more.

“Tell me,” whisper-demands-croons-sings the thing that is no longer Jon, voice crashing on the rocks of them with with a wave-foam aftertaste of static and Martin’s mouth fills with the saliva of every shameful story he’s ever kept secret, every unkind thought, every mistake, every evidence of his fragile humanity laid bare.

“Tell me your story, Tangled Hoarde of Many Claws,” compells the voice of the Archive. “Let me rip your song from your spines.”

Martin pays hideous witnessing to the rats’ screaming. He sees when they start rocking their mismatched, desecrated bodies, moaning and keening, when they start dying with all the violent grace that was probably afforded to Peter Lukas. The infected bodies that survive turn delirious, wailing in confusion, lost from their hive, dragging their broken-backed, broken-brained bodies from the battleground, and the Watcher drinks it all in.

Martin feels the compulsion flicker and falter like a loss of pressure. His mouth remembers the agony of his body.

The thing that is not Jon watches him for a steady moment. The edging of its eyes stretches, retracts like the bodies of jellyfish, and pupils bloom into existence like opening flowers with a sucking, popping sound. Still the thing stares and Martin wails at the torn places of his skin, and the flayed torn places in his head that the thing is calmly perusing through as his movements get weaker.

He wants Jon here. He is trembling, and blood-loss woozy and he wants Jon to tell him it’ll be ok.

It is a body in all the ways something can be technically a body, and it moves in all the ways something can mechanically move. The hands that touch him are not the thin-spindle fingers that are deceptively calloused, they are not hands he knows, hands that have held him with a cherishing softness. There is nothing soft in this gaze, like being the only thing in the sights of some predator on a desolate, wind-scoured moor, nothing soft in its hold as it observes the violence done to Martin’s body.

Martin gasps and thrashes faintly, gargles blood through the weeping gash in his throat, and the thing makes a sound like a snarl of tape being wound back.

“Breathe,” his body is commanded. It doesn’t even have a mouth any more. It sounds its demand in the fibres of his skin, in the tendrils of his slipping-away consciousness, and Martin almost weeps at the meat-hook immoveable yank of it as he’s made to persist.

It is unendurable to continue. And the thing, that flexes the outline of a face that could have been Jon’s, whose eyes have lost all colour, replaced by the shock-wide black of pupils like the unblinking gaze of owls, will not permit him to drop into unconsciousness. Martin is instructed to live and breathe and survive in this blood-soaked, echoing stairwell, and his abused body does as instructed. It is efficient, this brutality of meatball surgery, but there is nothing human in it, and Martin’s throat gags on a wail as a tourniquet is applied to his leg.

Finally, eyes that could be eyes he knows boil down to the front of the thing’s face.

“Sleep. Long and dreamless,” comes the final command. Martin has no choice in the matter.

He awakes in a different place. There was a multi-level shopping centre running off one of the floors of the car park, and he opens his eyes in the plush-carpeted, desolate foyer of a multiscreen cinema. His body an anguish, aching and bruised to the bones of him. He blearily looks at the patch on his arm, the neatly sewn stitches and tape marking his skin, manages to move his arm with a pained wince to touch at the padding of gauze at his throat, his upper leg.

Around him like the elements of a summoning circle; medical gear, antiseptic and needle driver, tissue forceps, blood-heavy bindings discarded along with make-shift compressions. Martin wonders how much of his body needed mending. How much of it was commanded to.

Jon is there. His face ashen and smeared with Martin’s blood, the horrifying vista of his face returned to almost normal. Martin watches an eyeball roll back and into the scar tissue of Jon’s throat. He has his back against a circular plinth, body collapsed and folded uncomfortably like he’s lying where he fell.

He’s not looking at Martin. His eyes – his own dark pupils returned to him – staring off at a distance Martin cannot reach, a horizon he cannot venture to.

There are the drying trails of tears down Jon’s cheeks. His mouth is moving but it is not his voice that spools out but a testament of horror bestowed by some other poor soul using a mimicry of their voice.

Jon has the expression on his face of a man who has spent a long time drowning.

Martin wonders if he’s too late to bring him back to shore.

Martin reaches out, fumbling, his motions jerky, imprecise. His reach limited by the bindings of his wounds, he flails his hand to touch Jon’s leg, the bare skin revealed below the line of the trouser leg, the only part of him he can reach.

“Jon, come back,” he pleads hoarsely, and stares at him as if hoping to snag his gaze away. “Come on, you can do it, come back to me.”

Jon’s eyes blink slowly, like a lizard. His mouth doesn’t stop moving. His body has started shivering, though it’s warm enough here.

Martin wets his lips and wishes for water.

“I broke my wrist when I was six,” he says, the words scraping up the side of his throat. Jon’s eyes flick to him, and there are still the embers of a hungry light there. He has stopped talking. He is paying attention. “I used to play rugby, though I was never any good at it. There was a fight in the changing rooms when I was thirteen, and I stopped playing after that.” Martin sucks in more air and Jon’s gaze doesn’t leave him. He’s stopped shivering.

The Eye likes the tales of minor tragedies, of fears and hurts and heartaches and so Martin feeds it like a praying man might light votive candles to try and lead his loved ones home.

“The first boy I loved, it-it was, we were at uni, but he was so ashamed of who he was he kept me a secret too,” he continues. “I am frightened that one day I’ll become my dad. I miss Tim and Sasha. I knew I had a crush on you when you told me I could stay in the Archives, and even then, I wished it gone because I didn’t want to be hurt again and I thought you’d be the sort of man who’d tear me down to build himself up.” He clenches his fingers around Jon’s ankle. “I am scared that one day you’ll drown. Come back, Jon. It can’t have you, come back to me.”

Jon sways and blinks woozy. He looks at Martin, seeing again, and his gaze is thready and human and terrified.

He’s stumbling, crawling on hands and knees to Martin’s side. Stuffed in his mouth are all the sorries and regrets and pains Martin can see writ large over his face; his hands span bird-flighty over Martin’s healing, shattered places.

“Jon, I’m ok, you saved me, Jon, we’re alive.”

Martin uses his arm to pull him close. Jon’s hands are beginning to scatter in explanation, in apology, but Martin shushes him with a croaky, relieved sound and holds him, a known quantity cradled in his hands, rocking his creaking, bruised painfully human body as tight as his battered limbs can bear.

#tma #the magnus archives #prompt fill #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #cw hurt/comfort #cw violence #cw bloody imagery #cw compulsion

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sugar-kisser · 5 years ago

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hi, I’m a huge fan of your writings !! sorry if you’re not receiving requests rn but can you do a pt2 for jongho!mafia au x anything related to family/pregnancy etc? thank you and I wish you a great day/night! :)

Thank you for liking all that I write! It really means a lot!! I hope you enjoy! Also sorry for being extremely m.i.a. uni has kept me b u s y. I also got really soft writing this and I just wanna scream because now I need to just see ATEEZ go to like a daycare for a day and play with other babies.

Old Habits

Part 1: Black Hour Warnings: mafia affiliated acts, cussing, death, implied mention of sex (but there is none I promise), no-mercy violence, partial psychotic break(?) Featuring: ATEEZ word count: 6965

You pull the tight black turtle neck down your head and quickly push your arms through the sleeves in order to push away the static your hair gains. You tuck your shirt quickly into your black army pants and tie the laces on your boots before moving over to your weapons closet you have in your room. You first pull off the newly reformed bullet proof vest and strap it onto your body. You then begin to hand pick out the explosives you were asked to bring along for your mission tonight.

You kept your promise with Jongho and stopped all the nonsense, ruckus, and raids. Jongho did, however, find use for you on his team and that’s where he placed you after you both recovered from the Black Hour incident. Since then the two of you actually wed and are now husband and wife, and both of you are content about it. You are happy Jongho finally came around after putting your differences aside. You had actually asked on your wedding night if he could your differences aside and he was taken back at your request. He had put his hatred towards you aside the day you came to get him from the prison, and he felt bad that it still seemed like he could not stand you. So he made a promise that night that he’d show just how much he appreciates and grows to love you every single day.

A knock on your door doesn’t pull you from your train of thought as you go over your list of explosives and make sure they’re ready to go and not loose enough to explode on you.

“We don’t leave for another two hours,” Jongho’s voice cuts the silence.

“I know. But I just need something to do. I feel antsy just waiting,” you respond, turning you head and softly smiling at him. You return back to your toys, and change a couple of them out as Jongho walks over to you. He wraps his arms around you and they sit lightly on your waist, and he rests his chin on your shoulder. You feel his warm lips leave a kiss on your cheek which causes you to smile sweetly but you continue to focus on your task. You continue to feel his lips trace down your chin and to your neck, causing you to slightly giggle because how ticklish you can be.

“Jongho,” you warn while trying to shoo him off.

“Yes?” He asks as if there is nothing wrong.

“Not now. I just changed,” you tell him, “besides I’m not going to be exhausted going into this. Tonight.”

“Fine,” Jongho pouts as he lets go of you. You smile sweetly at your husband, who’s currently acting like a little toddler, and give him a quick kiss to his lips before grabbing all the explosives and placing them into your one strapped backpack that’s resting on the ground. As you bend down to carefully place all the little bombs into your bag you feel Jongho’s hand smack your ass. You drop a handful of the bombs into the bag before standing up looking at the giggling boy who’s already running out the door.

“Jongho!” You holler and chase him out of the bedroom and down the hallway. You can hear his laughs echoing off the walls and you follow him down the staircase. To beat him down you sit on the railing and slide down. You jump and tackle him to the ground just past the bottom of the stairs.

“Ha!” You laugh as you have him pinned down. You hold his wrists to the floor as you basically straddle his waist to keep him pinned down.

“You sure?” Jongho asks before pushing you off and pinning you down to the floor. Instead of needing both his hands to pin your wrists to the floor he only uses one while the other lightly grabs ahold oh your chin.

“AHHHHHH! AGAIN? COME ON! YOU HAVE A ROOM!” Wooyoung screeches as he walks out of the kitchen and immediately covers his eyes.

“Oh shut up. We’re just messing around,” Jongho rolls his eyes.

“You said that last time too!” Wooyoung counters.

“Wooyoung this is OUR house,” you tell him.

“And I’m forced to live here with everyone else on the team. Nice try,” Wooyoung sasses.

“You can look! We aren’t doing anything!” Jongho tells him as he climbs off of you and helps you sit up.

“I don’t trust you,” Wooyoung answers. You grab a magazine sitting on a nearby small circular table and throw it at Wooyoung hitting him in the head.

“Hey!” Wooyoung trips back and looks at you. You shrug and push your self off the floor and brush yourself off and straighten your shirt which slightly twisted. Jongho joins you and stands up as well. Before Jongho follows Wooyoung into the conference room you smack his ass in return for earlier and he yelps.

“Ooooh. You’re in for it later,” Jongho points at you as he laughs. He smirks before disappearing into the conference room. You take a deep breath and turn to head back to the staircase to finish packing your explosives.

———

You cough as you hurry away from mission point, having completed your part of the mission. All your explosives were put to good use, although it’s not how you probably would of done it before you stopped your raids. You run down the pitch black road that’s on the more abandon side of town and head to your checkpoint stop. You breathe heavily as you continue to keep your fast pace although you’re tired, slightly cut, and bruised from the slight ambush you had when everybody first arrived. You push yourself to your checkpoint and slow yourself to a jog then a walk as you approach the abandon orphanage. You see bright car headlights heading in your direction and you hurry down the side of a building and flatten yourself against the wall and wait for the car to pass… but it doesn’t.

You poke your head out of the side and watch as the car sits in front of the orphanage, the car lights on low, so you’re able to see. You watch as someone gets out of the car, heads to the back, pull something out, and carry it possibly to the door step of the orphanage, but your view is slightly restricted. You can’t see much beyond the front steps to the building.

But why would someone bring something to an abandon building? Unless your team was wrong about it being abandoned? You watch as the person returns to their car and quickly gets in and turns their bright lights back on and you pull yourself behind the wall again and you hear the car speed down the street and you watch it pass by you. You count to ten before poking your head out. You cautiously walk up to your checkpoint and your head perks up when you hear crying… well almost screaming. But you recognized it as a child’s. You hurry up the steps but cautiously to not scare the kid.

But you’re almost taken aback when you see more of an infant laying on the old worn down mat wrapped loosely in a thin blanket. You slightly begin to panic but you crouch down in front of the baby and slowly pick it up as you shush it. You try to wrap it a little better in the blanket without thrashing it around, and you continue to hush the baby. You stand up and even try to lightly bounce the baby which calms it’s cries a little. You look down at the little infant in your arms as it cries and make the assumptions it’s got to at least be a year old or just over, but you are no doctor to confirm.

After waiting the hour your told to, the baby has fallen asleep from it’s own exhaustion. You sit on the stairs looking down at the baby unsure what you should do with it. The person who brought it here seemed to no longer want it. But it could of been kidnapped and its’ parents could be worried sick for it. You take another deep sigh but your attention is grabbed by a van pulling up to the house. You stand up and cautiously walk to the car. You give a notion to have someone open the door and you step in and take a seat immediately ‘shhhing’ everyone.

“Is that a baby?” Yoesang gasps.

“Yes. I watched someone abandon it as I approached the checkpoint,” you whisper, “I couldn’t just leave it there.”

“Wait till Jongho see’s this,” Yeosang nervously tells you.

“I’m going to look into it being possibly kidnapped or anything related because I don’t think you keep a baby this long and then just abandon it for dead. That orphanage was deserted,” you explain to him. You look down at the baby and watch it as it sleeps peacefully.

“Will you keep a look out on missing babies for me?” You ask Yeosang who nods his head. Yeosang even peeks over your shoulder, watching the baby sleep. San even leans forward and over the seat to look at the baby as well.

“What if this baby isn’t missing and someone did actually abandon it?” San asks quietly.

You sigh, “I don’t know. I mean…. I-“

“We know you can’t and would love to keep it,” Yeosang answers for you knowing well that you can’t have kids of your own. You sigh again and you look out the window, familiar scenery coming into view.

“I’ll head in first and tell everyone to shut the hell up,” San tells you as he hops out of the back of the van when it comes to a stop in front of the mansion. You watch him head inside and you wait with Yeosang for a minute before heading in. Yeosang opens the door and you walk in and you watch as the rest of the team’s eyes practically fall out of their eye sockets, especially Jongho’s.

“Where did you find that?” Jongho points to the baby.

“Someone abandoned it at my checkpoint just before I got there. I saw everything. I couldn’t leave it there,” you tell him, “I asked Yeosang to keep an eye out for missing babies just incase.”

“Y/N, we need to take it somewhere where someone can actually take care of it,” Jongho tells you with sincerity in his voice as he already knows that you’ll want to keep it if it’s not missing.

“Jongho,” you voice breaks as you look at the baby then at him tears in your eyes, “you know there is nothing more I want in the world, and I can’t physically do it.” Jongho inhales a sharp breath in remembering when you had been kidnapped as young teen and were tortured to the point where people had damaged several of your organs and you lost both your ovaries due to it. You had also lost one kidney and almost even lost your liver but that was barely saved.

You watch as Jongho can’t find a thought out response to give you and even trips as he begins to start several sentences, and you storm off towards your room, the baby cradled in your arms. You rest the baby on the bed and quickly change out of your work attire and into a hoodie and shorts. You pick the baby once again and slowly climb into your side of the bed and prop your pillows up and rest the child on your chest.

“You’re a pretty heavy sleeper,” you whisper as your lightly brush some of the hair on the top of its head. You feel a couple of hot tears rush down your face and you take a shaky breath in before exhaling.

“He doesn’t understand,” you whisper to yourself.

“I do, Y/N,” Jongho quietly states hearing you as he enters the room, standing just at the door.

“You sure?” You slightly snap, “because it doesn’t seem like that.” Jongho almost winces at your harsh tone and the look in his eyes drop even more.

“Y/N,” Jongho starts.

“I don’t want to hear it, Jongho,” you tell him and you wipe more tears that fall from your eyes, “at least not tonight.”

“Okay,” Jongho quietly whispers. You look down at the baby and you hear the door close. You let more tears fall down your cheeks and just allow them to this time. You eventually shift the baby into the space next to you and lay down fully. You turn your body to face the baby and fall asleep.

———

You slightly stir in your sleep before eventually waking yourself up. You open your eyes and slightly push your upper body off the mattress and run your left hand through your messy and tangled hair to get it out of your face. You turn too look at the other side of the bed and your heart drops, and you begin to panic as the baby isn’t laying on the bed next to you. You scramble and fall out of your bed with a out thud and begin scrambling around the entire room before running outside. You know exactly who you were heading to, and you stormed your way.

“Jongho!” You scream. You run down the stairs and hurry into his office but it’s empty. You close the door and you turn around and almost bump into Yeosang.

“Where. Is. He,” you demand from the quiet boy. Yeosang’s eyes widen in fear and he points towards the kitchen. You brush past Yeosang and storm into the kitchen and Yeosang tries to call out for your name.

“JONG-“ you stop yourself when you watch Jongho turn to face you, the baby in his arms as he stands in the middle of a messy kitchen.

“Y/N,” Yeosang calls your name and you turn to him slightly still distressed, “there are currently no reports of missing babies or children that match him.” He hands you the missing children’s papers he found and you look over them.

“I would like a small team on this please. Find these kids,” you tell him as you hand him back the four papers. He nods his head and exits the kitchen. You then turn back to Jongho and look at him.

“Why in the hell would you give me a scare like that?” You demand from him.

“I didn’t want him waking you up. You need your sleep,” Jongho tells you as he slowly moves about the kitchen while holding the baby.

“Let me see him,” you pout. Jongho lightly laughs and hands him over. You carefully take him and hold him gently in your arms as he slightly sits on your hip.

“Hi,” you whisper to him. The baby stares back at you, his brown eyes seem even lighter than yesterday.

“I’m starting to wonder if you love that baby more than me,” Jongho states as he continues to clean up the mess in the kitchen.

“Oh, stop. You’re just jealous,” you tease as you shift the little human in your arms.

“I totally am,” Jongho sarcastically responds. You walk over to him and hit him in the arm and pick up something to eat from one of the bowls on the counter.

“Hey!” Jongho playfully snaps and you shrug your shoulders smiling cheekily.

“Yes?” You innocently ask. Jongho gives you a “your kidding, right” face before lightly laughing and running up to you to kiss you.

“You guys are so gross,” Wooyoung calls from the kitchen table. The two of you stop and turn towards the purple haired boy who’s trying to eat his food in an awkward space.

“How long have you been there?” Jongho asks.

“When am I not in the kitchen?” Wooyoung counters as he takes another bite of his pop tart.

“You need to go do something with San or bully Seonghwa,” you tell him.

“I’ll do that later,” Wooyoung brushes you off. You roll your eyes and turn on your heels and head out of the kitchen with Jongho on your tail.

“What does your day look like?” You ask Jongho as you head into your living room and take a seat on the floor, setting the baby down who instantly begins crawling off.

“I’ve got a few things to take care of that have to do with last night. After San says he needs help with something. I still don’t know what but I’m probably not going to like it,” Jongho sighs. You nod your head and turn your head to check on the infant who’s now running away.

“Hey!” You call and chase after the little baby who begins laughing when he hears you. You pick him up and swing him around to run back towards where you were sitting. The baby instantly starts running off giggling again.

“I assume you’ll be busy with him today?” Jongho asks smiling as he watches the baby run towards him. You nod your head and take a seat on the couch. The baby watches you and tries his best to try climbing the couch. Jongho laughs helping him up and giving you one last kiss before leaving towards his office.

“Well hello,” you say brightly at the little infant who plops to a sitting position on the couch after realizing the couch is a softer surface, “now what are we going to name you?”

———

“Are you sure we need all of this?” Jongho asks looking at everything San had bought and stored in the garage.

“Jongho. I’m pretty sure that if this baby was kidnapped, then it would of been reported missing by now,” San tells him. Jongho sighs and nods his head.

“Okay. You boys have this all set up I’ll keep Y/N busy. But you do know you have like an hour because she catches on to things quickly,” Jongho tells him.

“Already ahead of you. Everyone already knows what they are doing,” San informs. Jongho pats him on the back before heading inside the house to find you.

“Oh Y/N,” Jongho calls in a sugary voice.

“Okay, you clearly want something that I’m not going to willingly give,” you sigh as you walk out of your studio room, the baby sitting on your hip. Jongho’s mouth drops in shock to your response and his eyebrows even slightly raise.

“What mak- never mind,” Jongho starts, “I was going to find you and see if you would like to go buy some clothes for the baby. He’s been in that since last night.” You instantly light up and agree.

“Hold him while I go put actual clothes on. I can not go out in my pjs,” you tell him before sprinting upstairs to change. Jongho slightly begins to bounce the baby he’s holding to keep it entertained and even talks to it quietly.

“You have a good day? Yeah?” He asks as the boy reaches out for Jongho’s hand. Jongho hears a couple of stifled laughs and turns around to find Wooyoung and San carrying in a large box while trying not to laugh at their “oh so fearsome leader”.

“You better move before I split your heads like apples,” Jongho warns and the boy’s’ eyes widen and they quickly leave the room. You finally return in a new set of clothes and even brought one of your too small and old cardigans.

“Hand me Minjoon,” you tell Jongho.

“Minjoon? You decided a name?” Jongho asks as he hands him over.

“Yeah. I like it. He’ll grow into it,” you tell him as you brightly smile at Minjoon. You manage to place him in the cardigan, although it’s just more wrapped around him if anything. You begin to head towards the garage but Jongho pulls you to walk out the front door with him. You instantly find it a little odd that he wants to go out the front door.

“I know you’re hiding something. But I’ll just let it play out,” you tell him as he opens the front door.

“This has to be your new record,” Jongho laughs and the two of you head to a car already waiting in the horseshoe driveway. Jongho opens the back door for you and helps you in before climbing in himself. Jongho gives the driver the location and the car shifts into drive.

“Have you told Chaeyoung yet?” Jongho asks, knowing that you tell your best friend everything.

“Yeah. She actually came over a little while ago on her free time. It was a short visit but you know she’s busy running things internationally,” you answer him.

“Do you want me to pull her from that position to keep her closer?” Jongho offers.

“No, no, no, no. She loves what she’s doing and she likes being busy,” you decline immediately. Jongho nods his head and looks out the windshield window. Minjoon makes little noises which captures your attention and you let him grab onto a couple of your fingers.

Jongho helps you out of the car when it pulls up to the first baby clothing store he could think of that you might like… well San gave him a list and this place was written first, so here you are. He follows you inside and the two of you begin looking for clothes.

“We are not putting him in a leather jacket,” you tell Jongho for the fourth time as he’s already shown you ten leather jackets.

“Oh come on,” Jongho whines.

“It is the middle of summer! He’ll melt!” You tell him as you turn to face another rack of clothes. Jongho audibly huffs and looks down at the three leather jackets in his hand.

“I don’t know why she’ll telling me no,” Jongho mumbles, “I’m the one buying it all.” He then goes to face you again, “Y/N. We can get him two and he can wear them when the heat co- Y/N?” Jongho looks at the spot you were standing in not even ten seconds ago, but you’re no longer there. Or anywhere in the near by area. Jongho turns on his heels and looks in every direction.

“Y/N?” Jongho calls out but there is no response. As he tries to decide on which way to head to begin looking for her, he hears a scream coming from an isle not to far from him. Out of instinct he heads that way but only to find you knocked out, some blood coming out of a cut from your head.

“Y/N!” Jongho yells and pushes past everyone. He looks over your face and quickly checks your pulse, then he realizes.

“Where’s Minjoon?” He quickly looks up and around, “has anyone seen a baby boy? Black hair. Big light brown eyes. My son isn’t here.” A couple people in the small crowd begin checking other isles and the areas around. Jongho returns to trying to wake you up.

“Come on Y/N,” he begs, a chill running down his back which is rare. Your eyes slowly begin to open, and you blink a few times while slowly beginning to move around.

“Wha-“

“You’re okay. You got hit,” Jongho whispers helping you sit up, “do you know who hit you?”

“I’m not sure. I need a minute,” you tell him. You raise you hand to your head but wince as your hand brushes against the cut on your forehead.

“It’s just a cut. Come on. We need to get back,” Jongho whispers and helps you fully up. You, still in a daze, nod your head and let him guide you outside and to your car. Once the two of you are in the car and it’s pulling out onto the highway, realization hits you real quick.

“Where’s Minjoon?” You ask looking around the car before stopping on Jongho who looks like he might just fear for his life.

“The person who hit you most likely took him,” Jongho cautiously tells you. You feel your body tremble in horror. Your heart shatters and falls, and your emotions quickly flood you. Before you could even do anything Jongho is on the phone.

“I need you to find the security footage for that, Hongjoong. I want it before we are home. I also want the assailant identified,” Jongho tells him, “because we all know what’s going to happen.” You know exactly what Jongho’s talking about. It’s the scariest thing your city has ever seen. The scariest thing Jongho and the rest of his team have ever seen, and they only ever saw it once.

And that’s when Y/N cracks. Loses all sanity and goes on a rampage.

You’ve always threatened people if they are to ever touch anyone you love they would die horrifically. Nobody ever tested that till the Black Hour incident last year. There were a few other occasions where you got close to breaking and even severally injured people so others could learn their lesson.

But you know Jongho is right. You’re going to break as soon as you get your eyes on a target. It’s going to be game over, and no one is capable of stopping you.

“Yeah,” Jongho sighs, “we’ll figure something out. Most likely not. We’ll be going into this blind. Be ready.” Jongho ends his call with Hongjoong, and the two of you wait in a tense silence the rest of the way back to the house. Your emotions growing with your anger and Jongho can sense the change in atmosphere. So when the two of you arrive to the house he let’s you storm inside first. Jongho quickly following after you.

All the boys stand ready to go whenever, and Hongjoong is already holding out a couple pieces of paper. His hands slightly shaking because of his impending fear you might just sucker punch him if you’re mad enough. You take the papers from him instantly and look over them. The first paper a clear picture of a location- probably where this person is. When you pull out the second piece of paper from behind the first you feel everything just drop. The easily recognizable picture of the prison president’s face and a background check on the second piece of paper.

“He’s not dead,” you state, “I watched them bury him. I saw the autopsy report. I wanted to make sure!” You’re fuming at this point and everyone has taken at least 3 steps away from you but Wooyoung- who’s still within two feet of you which is ballsy. You swing your fist and put it through the wall right next to Wooyoung’s head, but he doesn’t flinch.

“Well are we going?” Wooyoung asks, face and voice unwavering from the pervious moment.

“Hell yeah we are. You got 30 seconds boys to be on your bikes,” you tell them all before storming your way to your special garage in the house. You grab your secret emergency bag not even Jongho knows about, your bullet proof jacket, and motorbike helmet. You put all three on before opening your garage already sitting on your bike ready to race as soon as the garage opens. You look down at the location, and map it out quickly in your head.

Just as the garage door is just open enough you zoom out of the room, race down the driveway, and onto the street in record speed. You soon have eight other motorbikes following in suit, and they are having no trouble keeping up with you. You take streets that you know will be closer to empty but even still you weave in and out of cars. You block out all noise and focus on when you need to turn and how much time you have left. In your head you have this mental clock and if you reach zero before your destination, it’s not going to be good wherever you are. Because half the city can go down along with this location, you’re got no problem making that happen if it means you got to make a statement to everyone. Because clearly not everyone knows your memo.

You swing your bike to a quick halt and jump off. You pull your helmet and carry it with you as you calmly approach one of the many abandoned buildings on the more “quiet” side of town.

“She’s way too calm,” San states.

“Nobody gets to laugh if I actually shit myself,” Mingi states as he pulls his helmet off his head.

“This might just be worse than last time,” Jongho looks over at them as he climbs off his bike, taking his first few steps towards the building the rest of the seven boys in tow.

“Yeah, how did you survive last time? We watched that place go down,” Yeosang says. Jongho doesn’t answer as he stops, ten feet from you. The other stop behind Jongho and they all watch as you just stare at the door. You wait, inhaling and exhaling. Your mental clock finally counting down to zero. You look up and with a devilish smile on your face you turn around. Your smile alone terrifies all the boys.

“Lock and load ‘em boys,” you cheerfully state before turning on your heels. You lift up your foot and with a ear pitching scream you kick in the wooden door, taking it completely off it’s hinges and knocking the two men hiding behind it. You reach into your bag, pulling out a single tear gas bomb and throw it inside. You listen to it beep before it not only releasing tear gas but exploding immediately after sending the first room into a panic.

Now it’s time to play.

You calmly walk in pulling out your two hand guns, and without a care head into the first room. Parts are in flames, fresh littered bodies in random areas, blood splatters, and some still alive but severely injured. The eight boys follow in behind you checking their surroundings- you would think they looked like those agents from FBI shows with they way they’re moving around the room. Something you 1) do not care for 2) do not have time for. You take a look at the three different directions you can take, all potentially leading somewhere, and possibly leading you the opposite way you’re wanting to go.

“Mics on,” you tell the boys as you pull out your emergency ear com and stick it into your ear. Everyone divides up evenly into groups without discussion. Seonghwa, San, and Mingi take the door the furthest from where you all originally entered from. Yeosang, Yunho, and Hongjoong take the hallway on the opposite wall to the first door chosen. Finally Wooyoung, Jongho, and you take the door right next to the entrance point. You can feel your body itching to just go on a rampage, and you normally would but you don’t know the layout of the building. You’re going in blind… you all are.

You take the lead and walk into the room, Wooyoung and Jongho behind you both with automatics in their hands ready to fire at any given second. The room isn’t very big, possibly a conference room, but there is another exit door which catches your eye at first, but the quiet hushes are what catch you second. In a heartbeat you turn around and tackle Jongho and Wooyoung to the floor before bullets fly through the frosted glass, sending piecing flying with the bullets. You reach into you back and pull out a small little box. You lift the lid open and throw it through a corner part of the window that remains untouched so no bullet can strike it before it lands. On impact the little box detonates and sends anybody within a seven foot radius flying, killing all within three and a half feet easily. You push yourself off the floor and slouch your body ridiculously so you’re still below the windows incase there is still anyone standing. You push open the bullet infested door and your guns click, ready to fire. But again, the room just looks similar to the first one you destroyed. You loudly huff in frustration and walk through the room looking for any other way out.

“Y/N,” Wooyoung calls. You turn on your heels and Wooyoung nods his head to a large metal plate leaning up against the wall. Jongho and him quickly push it aside, revealing a door that could potentially lead them where they need to go… or it could be a dead end. You wait for Wooyoung to pull the door open Jongho and you ready to fire but you instead are presented with a staircase leading to a second level. You immediately take the lead and rush up the stairs with no idea what could be waiting. At the top you move to one side of the staircase trying to view what’s in front of you the best you can without poking your head out, and you do the same with the other side. You walk out into the open but immediately put your guns up, pointing at the person to your right when you hear their guns load and click.

“I about blew your head off,” you growl at San. San, Seonghwa, and Mingi immediately lower their weapons in relief.

“Yeosang? Where are you guys?” You ask into your coms as a majority of everyone has managed to find their way to the second floor.

“In the basement,” Yeosang answers.

“Everyone else is on the second floor. Don’t rush up if you haven’t cleared everything,” you tell him.

“Got it,” Yeosang answers before it’s all silent again.

“We’ve already cleared everything behind us up to this point,” Seonghwa explains nodding his head backwards to indicate the area they searched. You nod you head and lead now five boys to your left as you walk through the second rest of the second floor. Room by room you clear and there is no sign of anyone.

“We’ve had to miss something,” Jongho states as you guys search the last couple of rooms. You mentally agree with him, and look up and down the small hallway.

“Wooyoung, Soenghwa, and I will double back to make sure we didn’t miss anything from the other side,” San suggests before the three quickly move out. You on the other hand have been starring at an awkward space of wall near the end of the hallway next to the emergency exit point.

“Y/N? What are you thinking?” Jongho asks, noticing your concentration on a blank wall. Instead of answering you walk down the rest of the hallway and run your hand over the wall. You then lightly knock on the wall next to the closest door and every few inches you move closer to the emergency exit sign, still lightly knocking. Then you caught it, a hollow sound. You smile and look around you quickly. You smile even wider when you find a fire extinguisher. You pull it off the wall and adjust it in your hands before slamming it into the wall creating a large hole. You continue to smash holes until you can easily pull away pieces with your hand. You walk through the small hole and you just get excited. You find the jackpot. Your target.

“Well, well, Y/N,” the man sadistically smiles sitting in a chair next to a crib, “didn’t expect you to take this long.” You tilt your head to the side and smile sweetly. But in a swift motion your pull your gun out from it’s harness and shoot the president square blank in the head. You even, for fun, put a couple… okay, maybe a dozen more bullets into his body.

“Y/N!” Jongho yells, “I think that’s enough.” You turn and look at your husband who reaches out for your gun.

“I. Want. To. Be. Sure,” you growl. Despite your anger you allow Jongho to take the gun from your hand. Jongho then walks over to the crib, you quickly following him, but your heart breaks when you notice it empty. Only a note in there.

“Ha. You killed me and don’t know where you precious little bundle of joy is. You’ll never find him,” You read. With your anger easily refueled you pull out your other gun and empty the magazine into the president’s dead body, leaving him almost unrecognizable. This time Jongho doesn’t stop you.

“We’re going to find him. Yeosang, Hongjoong, and Yunho are still checking the basement,” Jongho tells you after your moment, “let’s go join them.” You take a deep breath and nod your head. You turn and Mingi is the first to head out of the room, you second, and Jongho closely behind you.

“Have you guys found anything?” You ask, speaking into your coms.

“We’re checking the last co- oh, Yunho found something,” Yeosang stops mid sentence.

“We’re coming to join you. We found the president, but no Minjoon,” you explain. Wooyoung, San, and Seonghwa quickly rejoin you guys by the staircase and your clothes alone tell them what had happened. Mingi’s pale skin also told them what happened, the poor giant won’t sleep for weeks probably. You all head down the staircase and begin making your way to the route in which Yeosang, Yunho, and Hongjoong took.

“Y/N!” Yunho exclaims and you stop as the rest of you reach the top of the basement staircase, ready to descend, “we found him.” With not only the pick up of you heartbeat, you pick up your pace and practically jump down the stairs you begin calling for Yunho, Yeosang, and Hongjoong. Yeosang greets you guys halfway as he responds to your calls.

“Where is he?” You ask, but Yeosang grabs you.

“He’s breathing. He’s alive,” Yeosang tells you.

“But?” Your voice falls flat.

“He’s attached to a bomb,” Yeosang tells you, “the ones that will go off if they can’t feel a heartbeat anymore. So we can’t detach it or cut a wire without it exploding on him.” You take a deep breath in and hold it.

“But,” you repeat, your voice becoming vulnerable.

“Hongjoong has started to work on it,” Yeosang explains then looks at Mingi, “he needs you.” Mingi pushes by and jogs down the rest of the hallway towards Yunho and Hongjoong. You begin to feel yourself hitting your wall. Your sanity break finally calming because you got what you wanted… well almost. You still muster all the energy you have left and you try to pull from Yeosang’s grip but it’s too strong.

“Please,” you beg quietly. Yeosang gives you a slight look of pity but holds his ground. He shakes his and that’s when you give up. Your mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted, and you just fall to the floor. You lean yourself up against a wall and stare at the ceiling at a bright light- it not only damaging your eyes but keeping you awake. You begin the most dreadful part of the day: waiting. Waiting for something that might never come back.

“Almost!” You hear Mingi yell out in frustration, which just hurts you more. Hot tears stream down your face, and Jongho crouches in front of you. He reaches out to wipe them from your face and you notice he’s got tears of his own.

“Why can’t we ever have one nice thing?” you ask him, your voice just above a whisper. The tone of your voice isn’t what breaks Jongho’s heart, but the question. He knows neither of you chose the lives you live. You never got anything easy, and the one time you do it’s potentially going to be taken from you. You begin to feel the numbness of you body sink in, and it’s only a matter of minutes before your body shuts down and passes out, but you won’t allow it.

Your head begins to pound and you raise your hand to the cut on your head you still haven’t tended to. Which is probably a reason why this headache feels so strong.

“Did they get it?” Jongho asks, immediately standing up as he hears cheers coming from down the hallway. You’re barely hanging onto staying conscious and watch and Jongho springs down the hallway and disappear into a room. Not even ten seconds later four boys are booking it out of the room.

“We gotta go!” Hongjoong yells, “this whole place gonna blow.” Th other boys begin making their way to the staircase to get out of the basement. Jongho quickly picks you up and carries you towards the staircase.

“Minjoon?” You ask quietly.

“Yunho’s got him,” Jongho tells you as he carefully carries you up the stairs, “he’s sleeping he was slightly drugged himself. But he’ll be okay.” You huff in relief and smile in victory. Everyone manages to get out of the building but that doesn’t stop you guys from getting far away. You guys pass the few next building before stopping. Jongho sets you down in order to catch his breath. That’s when the ground violently shakes, the bomb in the basement detonating. Following you hear potentially a majority, if not all, of the building beginning to collapse.

“I’ll call someone to pick us up,” San says in-between breaths before pulling out his phone. You watch lazily as Yunho hands something off to Jongho who then joins you sitting on the ground. You look over into his arms and see Minjoon peacefully sleeping away. Jongho shifts Minjoon to lay into one arm and wraps his other around you.

“We can have one nice thing,” Jongho whispers to you.

#ateez imagine #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez drabbles #ateez scenarios #ateez choi jongho #ateez jongho #choi jongho #jongho #ateez mafia au #ateez mafia #ateez x reader #ateez x atiny #atiny #kpop mafia #kpop imagines

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hoseoksactualass · 6 years ago

Note

Riding Jimin’s face? Imagine his plump lips and his moans 🥺

are u telling me to imagine something i’ve imagined 123456789987654323456 times anon? bcos yes. let me imagine that. ure a lucky anon bcos i am so in the mood to thirst and write rn so this is prolly gonna be long hehehehe

You thought Hoseok’s apartment’s kickback alcove was where you and Jimin would be fucking by now, but you’re just getting him priding himself over the fact that he’s actually beating someone at a video game. It’s a scoop off the living room wall that can fit five people, but Jimin’s ass sits on the edge like losing his kill streak would spit on his dignity.

You back should be on the wall, save for the throw pillows about to deluge you, but the lazy stretch in your legs is enough to make a point. You’d been losing in purpose to bore him, and it’s not like you wouldn’t lose anyway if you tried, but it only botches the pride of a man who has a history of daring to compete with god tier gamers like Jungkook or Tae.

“I am demolishing you,” he says. A lack of context would make it sound better.

“Biology is my excuse,” you huff. Admittedly, losing to Park Jimin still sucked.

You can skip the 5-second respawn, but you let it count down to 0. “Maybe I am good and have just been playing with Taehyung and Jungkook too much.”

“Now your head’s just getting in your ass,” you scoff.

“It’s not bad if it feels good,” he chuckles, a cute string of squeaks, but now you’re just ticked off.

You give the room a good gaze. It’s like those Sims houses where you get everything in bulk when you’re rich enough. It’s genial— from the patterns in the throw pillows to the carpet under the coffee table a few steps to the right from the alcove, and it gets all tied together with white paint. Rich. Something Hoseok bought to sleep in, take pictures of, and flex before he whips himself out into the streets like parallel parking doesn’t make him screech. It’s even once or twice he’d touched this console ever since he bought it, so he’s handed the whole place (and console) to the pair of you for the time being as if that’s what will pacify you as Jung Hoseok leaves to party. Like this apartment is still so new, and he’s still so scared to leave it unmanned. You have the whole place to yourself, and you have no idea why Hoseok picked Jimin when all the pair have been doing their whole lives was complain about each others’ dorm habits.

“Penny for your thought, babe,” his voice is soft against your ear. You thought now that he’s put two and two together and seen that you’ve zoned out and stopped playing, he’s all over you. You pretend like you don’t snap back into reality.

“Mm— it’s nothing, just bored,” you sit still, eyes still somewhere on the room like you weren’t done gazing.

“Losing is boring, I know,” he mocks, following with a chuckle too loud and breathy to be close to your ear, so you move your head away with a scowl on your face. “Okay, I’ll stop. What time is it?”

He chases your lips, soft pecks that disrupt your speech and ability to even get up and check the time, because the softness is just too captivating. “Sex-in-the-5th-room-of-this-house time, but we’re late on that thanks to your outdated black ops streak,” you sigh as he lays you down.

“Ah, that’s what you’ve been thinking about?,” you can feel his smirk on your neck, his sweater paws soft on your hips.

He makes you sound like a fucking minx, but you know that’s what Jimin likes. “No, i was thinking about arranging furniture with you– Yes, Jimin,” you retort, and he chuckles as he leaves sticky kisses on you.

“I owe you an apology, then, miss,” he kisses your chest.

“You owe me more than that,” you try not to grin when you push him down and straddle him, his arms slightly lifted from the elbow almost in defense, but when you take your shirt off, he welcomes you taking charge with a smirk. “Hands where I can see them.”

He slowly lifts them, joins his wrists above his head like he’s done this before. You pull your hair tie off, flip it to one side for the effect, and Jimin bites down on his lip even more when you unbutton his pants. It takes a little shimmy off his waist, because it’s skintight and makes his thighs look glorious, but bare like now is something that can never lose. You pull them off with his boxers.

“Touch yourself,” you command, eyeing him with a look that told him how pretty he was at this second.

“I’m so dry—”

“Is that my problem?”

He’s shut up at that, bringing one hand down to his mouth, and you smile at the little spitting sound he makes. He doesn’t break eye contact when he lowers his hand to his cock. The room is silent enough that you hear the slow strokes. “Oh.”

“Now you’re enjoying, hm?,” you swat his hand away so he returns it above his head and replace the strokes with your own. Tight and warm, and it makes his hips cant up.

You’re comfortably sat next to him, cock in hand like you’re doing this all night, and you pump him all the way up and down in taut strokes that has the red of his skin showing from under the neckline of his sweater.

“You like what you’re getting, babe?,” you titter. He has to swallow before he speaks, throat dry with the breathy moans he’s just let out with his mouth agape.

“Y-Yes.”

“Don’t wanna beat me with your little controller all day anymore?”

“I don’t—anggh-,” he whimpers, hips bucking when you suddenly pick up your pace. But he keeps his hands above his head like a good boy. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

You lower yourself, bring your lips to his jaw, and he cranes his chin up to let you kiss him there. You hum as you do, trying to keep the quick pace in his cock as he whimpers above you, in dire need to touch you, but he knows better than to step out of your dirty plans for now. With your free hand, you lift his sweater up, drag your hand across the tense skin, feel the pull of his muscles with every jerk. “You’re so hard. Wanna cum?”

“Fuck—please, yes,” he curses.

“Don’t cum,” you calmly say, and his moan rolls off as a forced growl in frustration. You bring the tip of your free finger to his nipple, playing with the bud until it hardened. He hisses. “Sensitive here, babe?”

“Y-Yeah, keep—keep doing that,” he tries so hard not to buck his hips up. All his nerves are lit with his battle against an orgasm and the magic of your fingers teasing the parts that made him blush. You play with the nipple more. “Hnngh—fuck-”

With a tight squeeze, you slow down, and a strangled moan leaves the wet of Jimin’s lips, but his body relaxes, and he catches his breath. “You’ll have to wait a bit to cum.”

He gulps, lifting his head to see what you’re up to next, face red and sweaty. He watches the way you easily slip out of your boyfriend jeans, and he wishes he could pull those panties off you, but that wasn’t his role today. You kick your underwear off and unclasp your bra. Jimin is full of love and cum, and it shows in the red of the tip of his cock, resting on his abdomen— an invitation for touch you pretend you don’t want to accept just yet.

“Do I make you feel good?”

“Yes. Very.”

“I’ll give you the next move.”

He lowers his hands to push himself up on his elbows, ogling you up and down, and he licks his lips. “Let me taste you.”

Now it’s you who bites your lip as you carefully straddle his head. Jimin stays hard with the visual above him, your body curved, tits bare and perked up in the air. He wraps his arm around your thighs firmly, encouraging you to dip down on his lips, and he starts with collected licks— for the sole purpose of tasting you.

Then when he’s sure he has you dripping to your inner thighs and your eyes already in your head, he indulges. Lips in a small O just snug enough to fit your clit and to suckle on it like punishment.

“Oh—Oh, Jimin-,” you moan, trying to keep your hips still. He watches you, unaware of any place to put your hands on but your breasts, and he intently watches as you fondle yourself. Prides himself with the fact he’s under you and could still make you a writhing mess. He sucks with eager attention, vigor on his lips, and he feels every twitch of your body that stems from the inside. “Fuck—that’s so good.”

Then he slows his pace to soft, wet kisses that calm you down and tease you at the same time. You’re lost in a haze and can fully admit that’s what Jimin’s mouth does. His cock twitches when you roll your hips to grind your pussy down on him, and he thinks you do it so beautifully. He hums low as he sticks his tongue out, flattens it and moves his head up and down across your clit, slowly building up the speed to see you try so hard to keep still again.

“R-Right there—shit,” you squeeze yourself, an impulse in your hands you have nowhere to release but on the heat of your body. You compose yourself enough to look down at him, and he makes instant eye contact, pupils dilated and dark in lust. He closes his lips again, sucking. “T-Touch your cock for me.”

His grip around your thigh tightens as he frees one hand to touch himself, gripping his cock like it’s on the verge of falling off, and he touches himself slow or he’ll cum too fast.

You start rolling your hips, and he sucks wet every time your clit slides over his lips. You’re more careful than the times Jimin would sit back and let you get off on his thigh, but something about the shiver in your breaths makes him pump his cock faster.

Your speed grows swifter, chasing the sensation of his lips, plump on your cunt, and with every elegant thrust of your hips, Jimin tries to match with the wet drag of his hand on his cock. “Tastes so—mff—fucking good.”

The stimulation makes you clench with each second, and the both of you wish you could feel that around his cock, but in the moment, you found the setting so hot, you wouldn’t bother cumming just like this. You feel that heat somewhere inside you. “Jimin—right there—fuck-”

Jimin moans against your pussy. With a tight fist around his cock. Shameless and set out to letting you gush all over his face, and he feels that same heat in some place he couldn’t pinpoint, but the air condenses on your skins, and he knows he’s gonna cum.

You’re a mess, hot on the tail of your orgasm. It’s right fucking there, and it repetitively chokes moans out of you as you roll your hips against his lips faster. The motion makes Jimin moan with you, coaxing it out of the both of you, and you’re so ready to erupt; you could feel it— “Hngggh— ImcummingImcumming- god—”

Jimin’s knuckles are white. He lets your taste engulf him, eyes locked on the visual of your breaths and nose perched on the scent of sex, and with determined pumps, he cums in strings he hopes doesn’t spurt on Hoseok’s alcove couch. “Nggh—shit.”

You giggle, lip bit. “Stay right there.”

He’s still panting, right where you left him when you come back with tissue papers you’ll discard outside the apartment lest you want Hoseok to find out. You wipe him up, relieved that he didn’t cum too much to stain any of the pillows, and now the pair of you are soft around the edges with love.

“You weren’t uncomfortable or anything?”

“No. That was the hottest thing ever.”

“Really?,” you smile, laying careful on him after you had pulled your panties back on.

“Yeah. I seriously don’t know what the fuck video games are anymore. C’mere.”

He wraps his arms around you, cock and heart soft.

#here ya go anon #ehehe #jimin smut #jimin drabble #jimin scenario #bts smut #bts drabble #bts scenario #namjoon #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #bts

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girls-scenarios · 5 years ago

Text

Whatever I Can

Idol: Mina (Twice)

Prompt: Hi! Can you write a fluff story about twice Mina. Currently in her state, the reader spends a lot of time with her. Buying her food, updating her on Twice and taking care of her + I'm missing mina sm rn so can I get something super fluffy with the reader taking care of her or smt? thanks!!

Writer: Admin Kiwi

A/N: I really miss Mina but I’m also glad that she’s being given time to rest and recover and I hope that she’s able to get better. I just want what’s best for her right now. Twice’s schedule is no joke and she and the other girls need to be able to rest. Get well soon, Mina.

♡ Tip Jar♡

When Mina’s anxiety had first started getting bad, you’d felt helpless. There was nothing you could do to help her, nothing you could do to make all the bad things go away, and it broke your heart to see her in such a state. Even though it wasn’t her fault, you knew she’d feel bad about not being able to finish the tour or promote with the girls, and it hurt to think about how much she had to be going through. You knew there were things that she wasn’t telling you about, and you knew it was something that she’d have to overcome within herself. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t be there to encourage her along the way.

Now that she was home and resting, you made sure to stay by her side, helping her with anything she needed. Food, water, entertainment, or just your company, you were willing to give it all for her. And you knew that she appreciated having you there.

“Hey, (Y/N)?”

You turned at the sound of her calling out for you, looking up from where you were brewing her some tea. She was curled up on the couch, wrapped up in a light blanket despite the heat outside, watching as the credits for a Studio Ghibli movie rolled on the screen. “Yes, love?” You asked, and she looked up at you.

“Could you open the window?” She leaned her head back against the couch, looking at the large window that overlooked the city. “I want some fresh air.”

“Of course I can.” You picked up the mug of tea and walked over, handing it to her and pressing a kiss to her forehead that made her smile before heading to the window. It was warm outside, and the sun felt nice on your skin as you raised the blinds and opened the window. “Good for us that the air quality is good today.”

“Yeah.” She took a sip of her tea, watching you. “I really want to go on a walk but... I can’t. Without people seeing me.” As if repelled by the thought, she shuddered slightly, and your heart sank. You hated seeing her like this, anxious about everything, but there was nothing you could do except support her. Nodding your head, you walked back over to sit down beside her, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly.

“I’m sorry. If I could make them all look away, I would.”

“I know.” With a sigh, she leaned her head on your shoulder and closed her eyes. “Thanks for opening the window. I feel like I can breathe better now.”

“You’re welcome, love.” You wrapped an arm around her shoulder, holding her gently, just in case she needed to move away. She was getting a little bit better, you could tell. Going to the doctor and getting help had, well, helped, and now that she was getting the rest she desperately needed, her recovery was going well. She had bad days and good days, of course, but you intended to stay by her side until the end. “Did you want to watch another movie?”

“You can choose,” she said quietly, cuddling a little further into your side. “Just as long as it’s happy.”

“I can do that.”

At some point during the movie, she’d fallen asleep, her tea, almost finished, left on the coffee table and her head on your shoulder. For a while, you let her lay on you, patting her hair, happy that she seemed to be sleeping well. For a little while, she’d had trouble sleeping at all. But as it got closer to dinner time, you had to get up and make sure there was food for the two of you to eat, so you went ahead and carefully laid her down on the couch, making sure she had a pillow and was comfortable.

Her mom had given you a few recipes before she left, and tonight, you made one that she’d said was Mina’s favorites. Thankfully, this was one she’d shown you how to make, so you were confident you wouldn’t mess it up. With soft, quiet music playing on your phone to keep you some company, you set to work cooking.

Apparently, the smell woke Mina up, because as you were finishing the dish, she shuffled into the kitchen, blanket still wrapped around her shoulders.

“It smells good in here,” she said, voice still sleepy as she moved to peek over your shoulder. “Ah, that’s why.” For the first time in a while, her eyes seemed to light up with a bit of excitement. “Since when do you make Japanese omelets?”

“Your mom taught me before she left,” you admitted, smiling and reaching out to pat down her bed head and push the hair out of your face. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah. But I’m hungry now.”

“Well, food is done. If you want to sit at the table I’ll bring you a plate.”

“And ketchup?”

“How could I forget?”

She gave you a little smile before shuffling away, and all the work you’d put into rolling up the egg was now totally worth it. It wasn’t perfect, of course. You still needed a bit more work. But as long as Mina was happy, you were happy. Once the plate was in front of her, she thanked you and quickly dug in, apparently very hungry after her nap. As you sat down across from her, your phone buzzed in your pocket and, curious, you pulled it out to check what the notification was for.

Twice just posted. Raising your eyebrows, you pressed on the notification, and then a smile spread over your face.

“Mina. Twice just won an award.”

“Really?” Her face lit up once again and she leaned forward to look at your phone. “That’s the third one, right?”

“Right! That’s awesome! Your fans must be so happy for you.”

“Is there a video?”

A quick search told you yes, and you clicked on it before turning the phone to show Mina. Silently, she watched as the girls gave their speeches, and then a little smile came to her lips as both Nayeon and Sana mentioned her name. Once the video was done, she rested her chin on her palm.

“I’m proud of them,” she said quietly. “I just wish I could be there. So that they don’t have to worry or stress on my behalf.”

You bit your lip, trying to think of the right words to say as you reached out to take her hand. “I understand that. But the most important thing right now is for you to get better.” You gave her a smile as you squeezed her hand. “I know that the girls only want the best for you, too. And same with your fans. As long as you’re happy and recovering, they’re happy too.”

“Yeah.” She nodded her head slowly, looking down at your hand. “I’m going to get better. I can beat this. I’ve already gotten a lot better, right?”

“Right. And I’m so proud of you. You’re so strong, Mina. You can totally beat this. And I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”

She locked eyes with you, and then, slowly, smiled. “I love you, (Y/N). Thank you, for everything.”

“I love you too.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said suddenly, and you almost cried at the words. But you didn’t, instead just smiling and holding her a little bit tighter, happiness and relief bubbling in your chest.

“I’m glad I’m here too.”

#twice #femifics #mina #twice mina #twice scenarios #twice mina scenarios #mina scenarios #girl group scenarios #kpop scenario #girl groups #kpop girl groups

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huhusevenn · 5 years ago

Text

next to you

• angst, fluff-ish

• Word Count: 1.3k words

• chan x fem!reader

• a/n: lemme just wsrn y'all- it's 3.45 am rn. I finished it at like.. 2 am, then I edited the pic until 3, then I proofread until now??? Idk HAHAHA I lost track of time. This is prolly full of grammatical errors so sorry in advance hehe but I hope that you guys love it! I wish y'all a great day, and if you didn’t have a great day, I hope this could help to cheer u up. pics arent mine but the edit is mine.

- Rei <3

Patiently, she waited for the creaking of the front door being opened.

Patiently, she waited for the sound of keys clinking against the others.

Patiently, she waited for him to come home.

Wrapping the soft, furry blanket around her tightly, she patiently waited for him at the couch, accompanied by the light hum of the classical music playlist played on her phone. The blanket that she received as an anniversary gift from Chris greatly resembles him, she believes. Its soft, delicate features remind her of the kindness in his every smile and the benevolence of his very soul. The strongly weaved fabric is closely akin to that of his powerful, brave character. And of course, the warmth. He and the blanket never failed to flood her with warming comfort whenever she holds either or both of them close to her form. Whenever he's away because of work, the blanket was enough to keep herself from missing his presence too much.

But tonight, the blanket was merely just a piece of clothing to fight the chill of the cold, lonely night.

Cupping the coffee mug with both of her hands to warm them up, she blew on the hot beverage then carefully took a sip. It's past 2 am, but Chris wasn't home yet. Chris is a man of his words, and he told her that he'll come home so she will wait, patiently, to be able to greet him with her signature warm hugs. Time passes slowly, and with every tick of the clock, her eyelids grew heavier. She drank the rest of the hot beverage, but it didn't do much to keep her eyes peeled open. Just as she was about to fall into a deep slumber, she heard the sound of the keys clinking against the others, followed by the creaking sound of the door being opened. Immediately, her consciousness was awakened and she stood up.

Finally.

An ear-to-ear smile slowly made its way up to her lips, eyes twinkling in both excitement and relief, as Chris's tired figure appeared into the living room. She walked to him and placed a chaste kiss on his cheeks as he hung his coat on the coat rack. "Welcome home, my love. I've been waiting for you."

"Hmm," he replied coldly, brushing past her to sit on the couch. Disappointment, worry, and sadness swept over her all too quickly. Taking a seat beside him with a good personal distance, she gulped before she asked, "How was your day?"

He was silent for a moment. And then, "Awful, my love, bloody awful," he says in a weary sigh. He leaned his head on the backrest of the couch, draping his arm over his eyes to shut the faint light of the living room that penetrates through his eyelids. "You shouldn't have waited for me," he said, his tone emotionless, or so he tries to make it sound like that. Seeing her waiting for him up until this late lifted his spirit in a way that nobody could ever do, for it reminded him of how dependable she could be, but that does not restrain him from feeling a pang of dreading guilt - he knew how badly she needs sleep.

"I couldn't sleep because I keep worrying about you," she says as if she's confessing a grave sin, quite scared that she might get scolded. She noticed his hand forming tight fists, his knuckles turning even paler than his pale skin tone. At that moment, she knew something bad happened, and she has to know. She reached for his hand, and it was cold against her touch. Leisurely, Chris's fist softens, then she took that chance to intertwine her hands with his. It fits perfectly with each other.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She considerately asks, gently rubbing the top of Chris's hand with her thumb to help him ease a bit, hopefully.

Chris was silent. "It's alright, we can talk about it whenever you want." She said, and he felt her slight smile at his bleary figure. He sat up straight and looked at her, lightly squeezing her hands in his. She only smiled.

"I'm sorry." His voice broke, tears threatening to fall from both his eyes.

"There's nothing to feel sorry for, my love," she chuckled light-heartedly, then held his other hand with hers and intertwined them.

"I-I'm so sorry," his voice broke again, and it broke your heart as well, "work is very demanding. I'm supposed to take care of you, but I always - always come home late."

A tear escaped, then another followed, then he finally broke down in front of her. But she was more glad than afraid, glad that her fiancè could now let go of what he bottled up for so long. With his shoulders slumped weakly, she pulled him into an embrace. He snuggled his face into her neck, then said, "The boss almost fired me. N-now I'm worried I'll m-make another dumb mistake. I-I just want to do a good job, but I can't even finish a single task without getting scolded at! Y-you already covered for this and last month's rent, I... I c-can't have you paying for another. I'm sorry.."

"Chris," she pulled away and cupped his cheeks, wiping off the tears with her thumb and her palm ever-so-carefully, "look at me. Please."

And he looks at her. His eyes continued to glimmer, for the tears kept falling down. It hurt her even more. But she smiled. Tenderly, she puts a kiss on his forehead, and his worries had gone in an instant as if it weren't there before. All his uncertainties, his insecurities, his weariness - everything left his body, his soul, and a smile - finally, a smile evoked. He knew he was the luckiest man to be walking this earth for having a strong woman beside him - she lifted him up whenever he falls down the abyssal pit of his greatest downfalls, she made him cackle like an innocent child after crying a river, she was his anchor in life's raging sea of unfortunate and fortunate events. Oh, he could never wish for more.

"Everything is going to be fine, my love," she said, and he knew, even without fate's approval, that everything will be just fine. "Please, don't feel guilty anymore. I know you feel like you're breaking the promise we made about not patronizing the either of us, but no. You're not. It's just that we're going through some challenges - a bump on the road, or something like that - and it happened to be your job that became our hurdle so I have to pay for our rent. It's not your fault, my love. We're in this together, right? I'm just helping you, and now I want you to help me by keeping the fight on. You understand?"

"I do. I love you," He breathed.

She smiled, a smile he will never, ever get tired off, "I love you, too."

Two months passed by quickly. After that night of Chris's break down, everything seemed to become normal in his workplace because he comes home tired, yet cheerful. And he became more cheerful as the days passed, much to her relief.

As she was writing an article for the local newspaper, her phone suddenly rang. She took it and saw that it's Chris who's calling her. She answered it, "hello?"

"I hope you're not busy tonight because I want to go out with you for dinner, my treat," he said, and she felt him grinning hard because his voice sounded so composed - too composed, in fact, that it sounded like he would scream so loud at any moment.

She smiled with playful curiosity, "Well, kind of. But I'm willing to free my time for you because it seems like something should be celebrated tonight."

"Damn straight, my love. I got promoted as the Vice President of the company!"

#straykidsscenarios #upcoming au!s for the other members as well mehe #i love him #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz #stray kids chan #bang chan scenarios #bang chan one shots #chris one shots #skz oneshots #bang chan imagines #i hope you guys like it!#also #pls let me know what you think about my writin

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grizztomysam · 5 years ago

Text

Letterman Jacket HC FIC

--For story sake the fight happened in Sam’s bedroom at Allies and I’m lowkey lost on the timeline of baby Eden’s birth and can’t be bothered to rewatch for accuracy rn so lets say she gave birth right after the send off for the explorers...also for story sake Allie wins the mayoral election so everything is chill

Angsty shit cuz I’m a whore for this so not a cutesy letterman jacket fic folks..sorryy eeeeeee..

===========================================================

As he watches Grizz disappear into the woods with the explorers, for a heady moment Sam has a sudden uncontrollable need to scream.

But it disappears as quick as it comes and he trudges back to the hospital while the send off crowd disperse.

He walks with a locked gaze to the ground. Notices the burnt dried leaves begin to blur and bleed together, as wet drops hit his lips. He stops by the side ally behind the hospital, hands white knuckled grasping unto the brick wall that cuts into the pads of his palm and fingers. He welcomes the pain, focuses on it and composes himself.

It’s not the time for theatrics or feelings.

But he suffers.

Hurts more than he’ll admit.

The outside is silent, as it’s always been. Cruel in its ignorance to the noise in his mind of incessant what ifs.

The irony when he’s only ever known quiet yet his head won’t shut the fuck up.

But he must keep his worry on important things; Becca and Eden.

Because pining and missing and fearing for the boy who now had permanent realstate in his heart is not important.

Yet his mind is stubborn.

Has created a treacherous alliance with his damn heart and he wakes up for the third night in a row, cold sweat dripping down the line of his nape and a dread so strong he can taste bile thick and suffocating. He knows he needs to do something. He can’t let this....

Whatever this is that he will not name, he refuses to name, to take over.

So he finds himself one afternoon leaving the hospital early after giving a sleeping Becca and baby Eden goodbye kisses; a trail of promises from his lips against the soft fuzz of the baby’s tiny head. Stealing across town he heads towards the outskirts near the wooded border. He’d only ever gone there during that one time with Grizz.

That one time when he had for the very first time felt so much. Felt emotions he was terrified to give words or meaning to.

But he knew he was happy.

God, to feel that again.

He finds himself outside the familiar set of arched wooden doors, black cast iron handle he thinks are still warm from when Grizz had opened them last; with slightly trembling hands had grabbed his own as he was lead across the foyer and up the stairs to Grizz’s room.

Sam stops outside the bedroom door. The tremor that has started, with a wake of white hot heat like static that crawls up from his toes reaching for his throat, stops him outside the bedroom door.

The room is untouched, the sheets of the bed have not moved from their tangled mess, a corner of the duvet trailing the floor. There are the books they had left on his desk, still in an haphazard pile, two on Cicero and a third about 100 ways to cook carrots. And on the back of the rotating chair hangs Grizz’s Letterman jacket, the sight of startles him with the crude joke the older boy had quipped while he had been sprawled naked over Grizz, happy and sated like some wanton incubus.

And he takes the room two by two, urgent strides towards the chair, grabbing the jacket and buries his head against the collar, breathing deep because for a while now he’s forgotten how.

The scent hits him sharp and if he closes his eyes he can pretend Grizz is still there holding him tight--

And he’s fallen to the ground, hard on his knees, clutching the jacket close as wails he can’t hear leave his mouth carrying the pain that has latched it’s angry claws into the side by his ribs, broken into skin and teeth that has gnawed at bone that have become cracked and splintered and have punctured his lungs and filled it with black poison that burns into his veins.

It’s hours later, he forgets to count, the room now dark, has shadows that reach, beckon for him and he’s sure Becca is awake and worried where he’s run off to. His back is aching and his knees will bruise ugly and purple but there’s a lightness that flows beneath his skin. There is no longer lead in his lungs and his heart beats without the sharpness of broken glass cutting into him.

He puts on the jacket, the leather is soft and worn, loved. It falls near his knees and the sleeves are outrageous in its length, but he’s warm and it smells like him.

He leaves, pocketing a framed picture of Grizz in his football uniform.

The days stack up, a week and then almost two. And when the nightmares do come, because they still do, clamoring angry creatures with slithering tongues that threaten him with lies, he wraps the jacket tighter around him, running his thumb against the picture in its right pocket.

He hides it in an old shopping bag under his bed during the day. Wants to avoid questions. Fears if people found out he’d have to return the jacket. Fears what he’ll do if he loses this tangible piece connected to the boy he’d finally given to admitting he can’t live without.

When day 14 arrives and still no news, he clutches the jacket around him so tight his arms go numb. Wishes he no longer could feel. Wishes he’d turn cold like stone.

He cries and prays to a god he sure will refuse to hear him. Prays regardless for safe passage and his beloved to be returned because he loves him.

He loves Grizz and he needs him back because he needs to tell him he loves him and he needs him back and he needs----

Because he’s only just found him and it’s not fair.

You’ve taken everything from me..have pity and leave me but a crumb.

The world is still dark and silent when a soft yet calloused thumb gently feels the space of his jaw and down the side of his neck. It moves to smooth back errant curls by his temple and rubs small circles on the soft pad of his ear.

It slow when he opens his eyes.

He doesn’t want to wake from this dream.

He does so anyway when his ear is tugged twice, and it’s hazel eyes that stare back, crinkled lines at the corners, that are warm and look like home and also seem tired but there is a teasing quirk to the lips on this face that’s watching him expectantly.

It’s a minute, because he desperately needs this to be real, before he launches himself onto Grizz, straddling the older boy, hips flush against hips, his arms and hands grasping and grabbing at Grizz’s waist and back, and his face because Sam can’t feel him enough. A strangled cry of “I love you, I love you I love you, I want you to know that I love you, don’t ever leave me” stream from him.

Grizz is real and he’s here and Sam’s cheek feels the rumble of something between what must be a laugh and crying and its so deep he wants to wager at praying again to see if another will be answered because he really really wants be able to hear right now.

But then lips are on his and all thoughts are forgotten. It’s hurried and desperate, teeth and tongue, nipping and biting and tasting, and marking and remembering.

“My Letterman jacket, huh?”

They both lay under the covers, chest to chest, hands with fingers intertwined, a picture reminiscent of their first time together. Sam stays silent, suddenly too shy to reveal to much. Instead, he reaches for a peck at the corner of Grizz’s lips still swollen and wet, proud of his fluent signing and scoots back down to place his head against the expanse of skin near the crook of Grizz’s shoulder. But his chin is lifted, furrowed brows question him, concerned.

“It helped...when you...” he speaks it to the smooth paleness of Grizz’s neck, refusing to look him in the eyes. His signing fingers are kissed, a sweet and reassuring gesture that makes him feel a tightening and a growing sting in his throat, and if he starts he knows he won’t be able to stop.

Grizz seems to know too because he doesn’t push. He pulls Sam closer, tighter, a brush on his cheek with lingering lips, and an inhale as if breathing him in. Then a movement and vibrations against his ear and he pulls back asking what Grizz had said.

With a quick nip at his bottom lip and a glint that’s all mischief, Grizz signs “I want you wearing it all the time...fucking sexy as hell.”

He’s blushing for sure, but fuck it cuz God damn is he happy.

```````````````````````````````

#Grizzam #Fanfic #grizz and sam #grizz visser #sam eliot

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baronessblixen · 6 years ago

Note

Hi. So I am sick rn and IMO there is a dearth of fanfic about Mulder taking care of Scully when she is sick and onscreen it was only Penny Northern who got to comfort her through chemo in one tiny scene when my little Shipper heart wanted it to be Mulder! So I guess the prompt would be the scene with Scully and Dr Scanlon 'I know the chemo's gonna make me very sick,' and Dr Scanlon says 'You're gonna feel like dying.' Scully sick and maybe hair loss like Penny? Mulder as tender caretaker TIA

This is one of my oldest prompts. I apologize to anon (and sincerely hope they’re well again!) for taking this long. This anon probably no longer follows me, but I am determined to work on my prompts. So here. Tagging @today-in-fic

They thinkthemselves safe after the first chemo, after the second. Dr. Scanlon's wordsthat she's going to feel like dying were a constant sword of Damocles over herhead, over both their heads, until it wasn't. When Scully didn't feel sick afterthe second round and assured everyone that she did indeed feel fine, the wordsdissolved into a distant memory, into mere smoke. No fire, not here. Not untilchemo number three, that is.

Before thetreatment started, Mulder prepared himself as well as he could. Hiding hisfeelings, throwing himself into work (and sometimes Scully, too) into work; anythingto distract himself from what was happening right in front of his eyes. Allthese weeks in and he is still hiding his feelings, watching Scully out of thecorner of his eye. Scully, after all, doesn't want him to hover. From time totime he is convinced she doesn't want him to care at all. If he's honest, lateat night when he's missing her, when wanting to see and touch her manifestsinto physical pain spreading through his veins like a phantom cancer, he wisheshe didn't care either. Most of all he wishes she'd never met him. Never methim, never joined him. Just never. But there is no going back, no changing thepast. They're doomed, both of them.

The chemo is onFridays. Scully chose that day so she can rest over the weekend. She leavesearly, unable to just stay away all day. Mulder contemplates wishing her goodluck, but doesn't; the sentiment too trite. Instead he helps her into her coatand startles when he realizes how tiny she is, how fragile. His hand againsther back is comically large and he draws it away.

"See youon Monday," he mumbles, his voice a vulnerable mess. Scully, alwaysstronger than he could ever be, nods and manages a smile before she leaves himalone in their office.

It's quietthere without her, feels like a grave. Mulder spends his day checking hiswatch, reiterating what Scully is going through. He knows the procedure. At 4pm he leaves, knowing it's about the same time they're taking Scully home. Bothhe and her mother offered to drop her off and take her home after. Her only answerthen a 'don't be silly'. They both kept quiet, biting their lips. So Scullytakes a taxi, every time.

The call comesat 8 pm. Mulder is half-heartedly chewing on a cold piece of pizza that he foundin the fridge when the phone rings.

"Mulder,"he answers and there is silence for a few seconds; they stretch on so that healmost hangs up again.

"It'sme," Scully says then, not sounding like herself at all.

"Ohhey," Mulder stumbles over his greeting. He swallows and sits upright onhis couch, as if that would make a difference. He turns down the volume of theTV. "How – how are you feeling?" There's more silence, graver thanbefore. Mulder expects the worst, even if he can't say what that would be rightthis moment. His throat is dry and he swallows again.

"Can you…I don't think I should be alone tonight." Even now she can't ask him. ButMulder, after all this time, can't blame her. He turns off the TV, searches forhis shoes.

"I'll beright there, Scully."

He's beenpreparing himself, or trying to do so, but when Scully opens the door he has toface the fact that he is no prepared for any of this. Her robe hand hangs offher carelessly, her skinny frame disappearing in the fluffy fabric. She leansheavily against the door, barely able to hold herself up; her face showsshadows of exhaustion and pain. Mulder doesn't say a word; he's not even surehe could say anything. He puts his arms around her and she lets go, gives in.She is way too light in his arms, her weight barely there. In tiny steps theymake it over to the couch where they slump down together, Scully against him.She's cool to his touch, yet sweaty. Her eyes are ablaze, her skin ashen.Mulder has never seen her like this and he wants to look away almost. He wantsto see Scully the way he knows her, the way he's always seen there. He can'tlook away, he never could. So he reaches out to tug a strand of hair behind herear. The long lock of fiery red hair remains between his fingers and he staresat it, tries to make it disappear before Scully sees it.

"I'msorry," she chokes as if any of this was her fault. "I didn't wantyou to see me like this." Like what, he doesn't dare to ask. She's human.She's sick. She's still his Scully, though.

"What can Ido for you?" Mulder asks her.

"Just behere," she replies with a sigh. "Be here and…" But she doesn'tfinish; she doesn't have to continue her sentence. Be here and make sure Idon't die are the words she doesn't utter, the words Mulder hears anyway.

Mulder doesn'tsleep. He urges Scully to go to bed several times (each time they return fromthe bathroom after she's been sick). Each time she says no. At 1.30 am with hermind broken, everything about her empty, she lets Mulder carry her to the bed,crying soft, desperate tears he pretends not to see or feel. He stays with herand puts another blanket over her when she shivers in her sleep. Not once doeshe take his eyes off of her.

"Goodmorning," he greets her with a smile he can't hide shortly past 9 am.She's slept for seven hours straight without being sick. If that's not good,then what is? Scully blinks at him and her complexion is a bit rosier, a littlemore like herself. "How are you feeling?"

"Better."

"You sure?"She nods, but doesn't attempt to get up. It takes her a moment to realize whereshe is; Mulder sees the thought processin her eyes. She blushes briefly when she puts the pieces together. "Youalways tell me it's not good for the back to sleep on the couch," heexplains, blushing himself.

"Thankyou, Mulder," she says, her voice soft and steady. They don't talk aboutthe night before or any of it.

Throughout theday Mulder watches her like a hawk. Scully doesn't ask him to leave and hemakes no move to do so either. They spend the day on the couch like a youngcouple in love, cuddling and watching terrible movies together. Scully driftsin and out of consciousness. When she's awake Mulder makes sure she drinks enoughfluids and eats some broth. It's all she dares to try. He brews tea every two hours,knowing it needs to cool. Earlier Scully drank hot tea and it made her sick.The only time so far this Saturday. In the evening Mulder is hopeful that it'sover. Scully has been awake for almost two hours and she's chuckling at themovie they're watching.

"Hmmm,"she says, her eyes glued to the screen.

"Hm? Youneed anything?"

"Thatbread," she points at the screen where a family of three is sharing a bigloaf of bread, "I really wish I could have some of that warm, tastybread." She licks her dry, cracked lips and moves her mouth as if she werechewing.

Five minuteslater she is fast asleep and breathing deeply against his chest, where a planis brewing. Mulder maneuvers Scully into a laying position and makes sure shedoesn't wake up. There is no bread in her kitchen. He considers making it fromscratch, but how would he even start? Mulder doesn't think long; there's one thingto do, only one person to call.

"HelloMrs. Scully," he says into the phone, trying not to sound like a youngboy.

"Fox?"Mrs. Scully is as surprised as she is concerned when she hears his voice."Is it Dana? Is she not feeling well?" He thinks of last night. Thephone call that brought him here. Scully being sick again and again. But shecalled him, not her mother. This is not his story to tell.

"She'sfine," he lies, "but she's been craving bread and since she hasn'tbeen eating well, I thought…" On the other end of the line Mrs. Scullychuckles.

"That's mybaby girl," she sighs, "her grandmother used to bake bread for herwhen she was sick. It's her comfort food."

"Can youtell me how to make it?" Mulder asks, afraid it's some complicated thinghe won't ever understand.

"Ofcourse, Fox. Of course."

Scully haseverything he needs for making the bread from scratch and Mulder follows therecipe to the letter. It has to be just right. An hour later the tiny loaf ofbread is in the oven, baking and growing.

"Mulder?"Scully's voice comes from the living room and he races back to her side. Hefalls to his knees right in front of the couch.

"You okay?"He touches her cheeks and frames her face. To his greatest delight Scully rollsher eyes and smiles at him.

"I feelfine, really, but… am I crazy or do I smell my grandmother Scully's magicbread?" Any notion of joking with her, of telling her she's imaging thingsflies out the moment he looks at her. Her face is so open and her eyes morehopeful than he's ever seen them. In this moment she is young, carefree; heronly concern that she'll get a slice of warm bread. In this very moment shedoesn't look sick. She's just herself. She's Scully, living and fighting.

"Itis," Mulder admits, unable to keep her guessing any longer. "I askedyour mother for the recipe.

"OhMulder." Scully kisses his cheek; she smells like sleep and toothpaste,like steel and the faint odor of hospital gowns, of sweet and sour vomit. ButMulder doesn't care and just grins at her.

They sit infront of the oven like a bunch of school children and watch the bread grow,grow and grow. They chatter and laugh; Scully talks about her grandmother andhow she raised six children by herself. How she always wanted to be as badassas grandmother Scully. Before Mulder can assure her that she is the most badassperson he has ever known, the kitchen timer dings.

"I'm soexcited," Scully giggles.

"Metoo," Mulder says but watches her. He doesn't care for the bread, for thetaste of it. All he cares about is her. The bread shimmers golden as Muldertakes it out. As he cuts into the steaming load, a delicious, warm and sweetscent fills the small kitchen. Scully, her eyes closed, takes a deep breath.

"Here,"Mulder offers her a small piece and Scully takes it from him. Her eyes are onhim as she bites into it. Mulder is certain he can taste it from just watchingher.

"Tryit," Scully whispers and offers him the other half. "You did itperfectly. My grandmother would be so proud." He chews carefully, thetexture heavenly soft.

"I did itfor you, Scully." He would do anything for her. Any little thing. Bakebread or find a cure to save her. He'll do it. There's no other choice.

"Let'stake it to the living room." They cut off a large chunk of bread andsettle back on the couch. They feed each other small bits, not saying a singleword.

"I'mfull," Scully says too soon and Mulder leaves the rest of the bread on thecoffee table in case she changes her mind. Exhaustion catches up with him andhe falls asleep holding Scully in his arms.

He remembersthe moment, the bread and her face, and cherishes it hours later when Scullywakes up with a haunted look on her face. They barely make it to the bathroomthis time; this wave of nausea hitting them both out of nowhere, surprisingthem. Mulder strokes her clammy back as she leans over the porcelain, her bodyunable to keep anything it, to accept nourishment.

Mulder whispersa constant string of 'I'm sorry' and 'you'll be fine' and it falls into a canonwith Scully's own words of apology and shame. He touches her neck where astrand of hair has come undone. He picks it up and marvels how soft it is. Forthe first time he notices the small patches of baldness on her head. Tearssting in his eyes. He takes a shaky breath before he kisses her neck, rightwhere her pale scar winks at him.

"You'll beall right, Scully. I promise you. I promise you that," he whispers withdetermination.

#i wrote a thing!#i wrote this in my notebook first #if handwriting is the cure to writer's block then #i guess here we go #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic #Anonymous

170 notes · View notes

nisitime · 6 years ago

Text

1 - Who was the last person you texted?

my boo

2 - When is your birthday?

8 june

3 - Who do you want to be with right now?

my boo

4 - What sports do you play?

none atm

5 - Who is the first person in your contacts?

my friend camila

6 - What is your favorite song as of the moment?

https://youtu.be/8-GIkSsAaac

7 - If you were stranded on an island, who do you wish to be with?

a person who knows out to get out of there

8 - What do you feel right now?

warm

9 - What chocolate is your favorite?

all of them ;;

10 - How many boyfriends/girlfriends did you have?

11 - Why did you create a Tumblr account?

to check fanart

12 - Who is your favorite blogger?

i dont think i have one

13 - Where do you want to be right now?

next to the person i love

14 - What do you want to be in the future?

a good illustrator with money

15 - When was the last time you cried? Why?

yesterday, i felt i wasnt good enough

16 - Are you happy?

i am

17 - Who do you miss?

my dad

18 - If you were given a chance, would you like to have a different life?

maybe a softer one

19 - What was the best thing you were given?

the love i receive everyday

20 - Who was the last person who called you?

boo

21 - What is your favorite dish?

hmmmmmmmm i like italian in general ;;;;;

22 - Who is your bestfriend?

my boo

23 - What is your biggest regret?

not standing up for my dad when i should have

24 - Have you ever cheated on your partner?

yes

25 - Who do you spend crazy moments with?

i dont

26 - Name someone pretty.

Henrique CCC:

27 - Who was the last person you hugged?

my brother

28 - What kind of music do you listen to?

lo fi and soft lovely music in general

29 - Are you over your past?

30 - Who is the last person in your contacts?

zel

31 - What kind of person do you want to date?

the person im with rn

32 - Do you have troubles sleeping at night?

i do

33 - From whom was the last text message you received?

boo

34 - What do you prefer, jeans or skirt?

skirt

35 - How’s your heart?

aching

36 - Did you ever have a girlfriend/boyfriend whose name starts with a “J”?

37 - Do you like someone as of the moment?

yis

38 - What would you want to say to your latest ex-boyfriend/ex-girlfriend?

you should be more upfront and i hope you ok

39 - Do you have any phobias?

im scared of everything

40 - Did you try to change for a person?

yes

41 - What’s the nicest thing have you given to someone?

my heart? so they could step on?

42 - Would you go back to your previous relationship?

nah

43 - Are you in a good or bad mood?

good

44 - Name someone you can’t live without.

mom

45 - Describe your dream date.

going for lunch at mister pizza (really great place here in portugal) a walk at the park or smth and then just sit chill listen to music or talk c:

46 - Describe your dream wedding.

oh god that would be way toooo long

but i would like a smal wedding with both our close familly (like 5 ppl total) and then also 5 friends for ea BUT, since we havin a small wedding i would like all the good food and the prettiest dress and i want my fiance/or wife to cry when he/she sees me

47 - How many roses did you receive last Valentine’s?

none

48 - Have you ever been kissed?

yis

49 - How long is your longest relationship?

my current one with almost 4 years

50 - Do you regret your past?

i do

51 - Can you do something stupid for someone else?

yis

52 - Have you ever cried over someone?

alot of times

53 - Do you have a grudge against anyone?

yes

54 - Are you a crybaby?

..yes

55 - Do people praise you for your looks?

nah...maybe???? idk...i dont think so

56 - Did you fall for someone you shouldn’t?

yes

57 - Have you ever done something bad but you don’t regret?

58 - Do you like getting hurt?

59 - Does anyone hate you?

there’s ppl who dont like me but idk if they hate me

60 - Did you slap anyone whose name starts with an “R”?

dont think so

61 - What hair color do you prefer?

orange

62 - If you can change anything about yourself, what is it?

not being always scared and anxious

63 - Do you love someone as of the moment?

yis

64 - Have you ever thought of killing yourself?

yes

65 - Do you have issues with somebody in your school?

nah

66 - Can you live without internet?

maybe

67 - What’s the song that remind you of your special someone?

oofie.... every soft and lovely song i guess?

68 - Are you good at holding back your tears?

69 - Are you a crybaby?

yes x2

70 - Have you ever experienced being hysterical?

idk

71 - Are you a KPOP fan?

yes

72 - Do you study hard?

yes

73 - Have you ever sacrificed something important to you for someone you love?

74 - Did you ever had a kiss under the moonlight?

yes

75 - Have you ever ridden a boat?

yes

76 - Did you have an accident last year?

77 - What kind of person are you?

soft spoken sweet anxious respectful

78 - Have you ever thought of killing someone?

yes

79 - Have you ever been jealous?

yes

80 - How can you prove your love to someone?

being there for them

81 - What are you thinking right now?

than im greatful

82 - Who is the 6th person in your contacts?

My cousin David from France

83 - Do you have any memories you want to erase?

yes

84 - Have you been hurt so bad that you can’t find words to explain how you feel?

yes

85 - Did you ever badmouth someone?

yes

86 - Have you ever had an argument with someone?

yes

87 - Do you have trust issues?

yes

88 - Are you broken-hearted?

yes

89 - Who’s the person who first comes to your mind when someone mentions “love”?

my boo

90 - Do you think all the pain is worth it?

91 - Do you believe in the phrase “If it’s meant to be, it will be”?

sometimes

92 - Who do you want to marry?

yes

93 - Do you believe in destiny?

yes

94 - Have you ever thought “I already found my soulmate”?

yes

95 - How do you look right now?

clumsy

pijama and messy hair

96 - Do you believe that first true love never dies?

97 - Have you found your true love?

yes

98 - What should you be doing right now?

sleep

99 - Name one of your ex-boyfriends/ex-girlfriends.

Pedro

100 - Did you ever feel like you’re not good enough?

most of the time

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astridthevalkyrie · 3 years ago

Text

time for me to sound like a broken machine again bc of how much i love mr :((((

the first word of this chapter is eren because eren is first in cherry's heart because she loves eren <3

PLEASE one paragraph in and i have heart eyes. he's such a mess but he's my mess.

imagine. imagine. imagine making me yearn for eren in such few lines in a LEVI FIC of all things???? i can feel the pureness in their love, slowly developing feelings as they grew up together, shy kisses and warm hugs and countless memories. fuck levi. this is love.

“Are you sure?” “You really want it to be me?” “But we’re not in love, wait, are we?”

You smiled so sweetly as you responded with, “Yes, Eren.”

man that's just :(((( so sad! like it's happy in a sense, because i'm glad both their first times were with someone who treated them right, but you just know eren heard the word love and ran with it. they weren't just each other's first heart, but each other's first heartbreak. and that breaks my heart, dammit.

mikasa best girl. mikasa only girl.

What if he’s the one? Is there even such a thing as the one?

i know i have said this before but girl. you literally said you love him like three chapters ago. he is the one. he is your one. so get your head in the game and move in with him rn. he'll take good care of jeremy.

okay but real talk. she's valid for being scared and flustered. this stuff is intense, especially when her and levi have kind of just shown that they're physically into each other for now. i completely relate to her here.

TELL PETRA SHE NEEDS TO KNOW

fuck. manbun is back. fuck. abort plan.

And then a palm graces the small of your back, and you’re tensed up all over again.

“Hey,” Levi rasps, all too sultry and flirtatious.

someone come collect him because. what the fuck. he can't do that. i refuse to be subjected to this. i am sick with how bad i want him. actually sick. i know they won't just start kissing against the countertop but i feel like the patrons could deal with it. i cannot deal with this. reader is braver than me. the second i saw that manbun i would be gone.

WHY!!!!! IS HE!!!!!! PURRING!!!! IUHFIUEG

“That’s a first,” his voice dips lower. “Sure had a lot to say the other night.”

fuck off. i hate him (i don't)

the secondhand panic i feel right now is unreal.

He continues, “I feel like that was the best sex I’ve ever had, and I want to keep fucking you.”

ahahahahahahahahahaha have you noticed most of my reblogs are just me copy pasting shit levi says that makes me act up? it's because he's effortlessly sexy and gorgeous.

reader and levi: yeah haha let's not sleep with anyone else bc reasons reader and levi: this is Casual and not Commitment. this is Normal.

they're so dumb i love them

ANNOY ME ANYTIME YOU'D LIKE???????? ARE YOU SURE. ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT BABE. BECAUSE I WILL DO IT. I WILL ANNOY HIM AND KISS HIM AND NOSE HIS CHEEK ALL THE TIIIIIIIIME I AM SCREAMING WHAT A CUTE THING TO SAY

first you deny me desk sex. and then you deny me go-back-home-and-fuck-in-the-shower sex. cherry just wants me dead.

dawww she's getting so close to them <3

HOT GIRL SUMMER FOR PETRA

twitter memes hange???? ily

You don’t regret this. Not one bit.

Though, you wish you could talk to your friends from home. If it were possible, you would. But as the days march forward, tumbling towards the vast unknown, you forget if Mikasa’s phone number starts with an eight or a seven. You forget how warm Armin’s advice is. You forget how toothy Eren’s smile is.

it's so bittersweet and i get it and i hate it and i love it. i've had these fantasies ab just booking a one way ticket and leaving my home and then i think ab all the things i'd miss but i also think about the things i wouldn't miss and like. shit :/ this hurts so bad. (also i'm listening to this very niche song that i think fits the vibe i personally get from your story and it's making me feel even more angsty). i just want her to give mika a call that's all. but she can't if she forgets her number :(

NO CHEAT SHEET NEEDED?????? I'M SO PROUD OF HER!!!

oh my god. claude is talking. he's kinda daddy ngl. his advice is also pretty good!

UIEFHIUEFH hange comes in like "🤨 🤨 sir ma'am this is a wendys"

MOBLIIIIIT

Mikasa’s phone number starts with an eight.

i don't know. i truly don't. but this sentence just hit me so fucking hard. something about it??? it makes sense that mikasa's phone number would start with an eight. i miss her so much and i don't even know her.

ugh. unfortunately i also really like the great gatsby. okay enough arm*n talk (making me yearn for all three of them is such a low blow).

COLD LEVI BUNDLED UP LEVI RED CHEEKS LEVI SCARF LEVI

now i kinda want her to slip so they can have one of those moments where time freezes and it's just her in his arms in a city in france. oh god. i sound like a film student. look what you've done to me.

His hair is disheveled, as if he’s been raking his fingers through the locks out of stress.

he's. so. hot.

“Want you,” you murmur, gasping out a lustful noise from the back of your throat. “Want you so bad, Levi.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathes, stupified. “Are you, are you trying, what?”

the fact that he gets riled up just from her saying she wants him riles me up. why is he so down bad. he's so unbelievably sexy.

S L U T

ahahahahaha he's pent up :)))))))))))) take it out on me, babe, anytime

fuhierfheruifh i know bc you told me that hange is about to interrupt them but this is so hot they deserve to nut and i am so sad that they won't

p r i n c e s s e ??? ??? ?? ? again?

no condom leads to creampie leads to breeding kink leads to daddy kink so i am warning you to halt right there

“No fucking way, on the desk? Levi!” Hange begins to laugh, obnoxious and loud. “Holy shit!”

i don't think i have ever even come close to being irritated at a cockblock in a fic the way i am for this.

awww no she's regretting :( girlie it's okay we're all dumb for some bartender dick sometimes

hange acting like they didn't just fuck in that same bar is actually hilarious

AYYYY CLAUDE GOOD JOB (petra is not going to be happy that she found out last hooo boy)

i want a detailed list of everything levi has walked in on hange and moblit doing

“You’re really cute,” Levi breathes. “What’s your promise?”

Your eyes lock into his, a smile breaking through your lips, “I promise I’ll give you a kiss.”

their their their their their their banter is so fucking good. i am so embarrassed by how much this makes me giggle. i feel all warm and cozy even though the heating in my house is never as high as i like it. that's their effect on me.

oh wow. that last imagery. that last line, holy shit. Levi is beautiful. And you are changing. i.....have no words. i keep thinking about the summary, about levi showing you that love isn't what you thought it would be. and he's already done that. she's changing, becoming more mature, loving more maturely while still finding that air of innocence that makes it all the more worthwhile. like. we're witnessing them falling in love. i'm in actual awe. i really truly cannot wait to see what comes next.

|| moon river. || part xi. ||

|| masterpost || taglist form || part x. || part xii. ||

pairing: Levi x fem bodied reader

chapter content: modern au, neighbors au, coworkers au, minor smut/suggestive themes, "just the tip" (lol), degradation, almost unprotected sex, exhibitionism (getting caught oof), angst/emotional angst, mention of virginity loss/talks about virginity, alcohol mentions, a lot of preamble but I promise it gets to the point, minors/ageless blogs do not interact.

summary: in which you're faced with the past, the future, and the daunting weight of the present.

wc: 9k

a/n: thank you so very much to @owldatime for their help with beta-ing this chapter! this chapter was one of my favorites to write, diving into reader's thoughts and feelings was something very important to me before we dive right on in to the rising action of this here story progression. so I hope you guys enjoy this deep diving of reader's inner workings!

Eren was always a bit dense. Wore his shirts inside out a time too many, tripped over his own feet when he walked, and always somehow managed to get sauce behind his ears whenever he’d eat pasta. A bit of an airhead, but he held the purest heart of gold. He made it easy to be his friend.

Eren was, and is, your longest friendship to date. Meeting on a playground, playing silly childhood games, he quickly grew as a permanent fixture in your life. Always pairing up in class, sharing your snacks at lunch, growing older and older throughout the years. It was so natural to befriend him, with his ever so charming personality and goofy demeanor. Even if his so-called “charm” was picking out worms in the dirt during recess to show you how wiggly they were. You’d scrunch your nose and squeal, and he would howl in laughter. His big green eyes were mesmerizing, even way back when.

Somehow, the snot nosed boy who routinely stole your red crayons in elementary school became the lean young man who taught you what love could feel like. A more innocent, platonic kind of love — pinky promises that you still hold to this day, falling asleep together in countless back seats on car rides home, hugs so tight they could break your spines.

You miss him the most when you think of him like this. Because you can’t remember just one thing about Eren, you have to try to remember all of it.

The crinkles by his eyes when he laughed — loud, unapologetic, contagious. The comforting embrace of his presence, the way he would pay attention to every expression on your face, clinging to every word that fell from your lips. An amazing friend, through and through. He’d walk through fire for you, lending you the shirt off of his back without you even asking for it.

Watching him grow and blossom into himself was an honor, and you get teary eyed if you dwell on it too much. He was your first everything.

In retrospect, it made total and complete sense that Eren had been the one to take your virginity. Though, take is a misleading word to use, as that stems into a debate about virginity truly being a virtue at all, as if it was something material you owned and had given away. You always found the concept silly, even now, but he was the first man between your legs, so you suppose you’ll allow him the vain word of “take”. Even if it was an equal exchange.

You remember how soft he had been with you.

“Are you sure?” “You really want it to be me?” “But we’re not in love, wait, are we?”

You smiled so sweetly as you responded with, “Yes, Eren.”

Stumbling out of a dress meant to mark the end of your adolescence, pulling at the tie at Eren’s collarbone to signal the beginnings of his manhood — awkward hands, breathy moans, slurring laughter. He touched you as if you were made of glass, you could hardly even look him in the eyes. It was perfectly flawed. You wouldn’t change a single detail about your prom night.

Well, except for the fact that Mikasa was Eren’s date, and he had ditched her for you. But it all worked out in the end, no hard feelings were harbored. Except for yours towards the asshole who stood you up in the first place, creating the domino effect of ditching. It’s sort of funny to look back on, so typically high school and cliche. Still, you often wonder how hurt Mikasa had felt that night, alone and forgotten.

After your shared “losses”, your friendship still remained perfectly intact, though Eren did try to romance you a time or two. The temptation was always there, but how could it not be? Eren was your first love in a lot of different ways — but most importantly, he taught you how sex is supposed to feel. How much meaning it can hold, and you’re grateful for that.

You can lament over the fact you’ve never had a “real” relationship before, but honestly you’d just prefer to be happy for what you’ve already experienced. Eren, your childhood best friend with a one-time benefit, was of course the one who stood out the most. Followed by a short string of men and women, sexual and not so much, kisses and drunken chatter in the early mornings, hand holding and ghosting. No one ever truly stuck, but whether it was due to you or them, it was hard to tell. Timing versus personality, fate versus coincidence — you’ve explored a lifetime of what-ifs. You’ve just never seen them through to know the endings.

Maybe that’s why you’ve been avoiding Levi for a few days now. You’re being forced to come face to face with a looming ending, a potential beginning, a definite purgatory.

He lives next door. You work with him. You share the same friends. You can’t escape him. Do you even want to? But what if it all crashes and burns? What if he’s the one? Is there even such a thing as the one?

Your brain hurts and your heart is heavy. You feel vain, so very shallow for allowing your mind to dwell on this. There’s people in the world who are suffering, truly, and here you are, wondering if falling in the dreaded L word will lead you to ruin, or if it’ll be an adventure worth risking.

If Levi was capable of making you question that profound feeling once, he might be able to make it a permanent fixture. That scares the absolute hell out of you.

It’s only been three days since Levi knocked on your door and was invited into your bed. It wasn’t weird the morning after, he’d left nearly an hour after you awoke, chatting and acting completely normal. Then the realizations set in, the self doubt came flooding, and now, it’s weird.

You can’t even look at him without getting flustered. Even right now, staring at your reflection in the bar bathroom, you feel yourself flush with embarrassment at the fact he’s going to walk into Hange’s any moment now, wondering why you’ve walked to work by yourself.

You haven’t even told Petra you fucked him. You can’t get the words out.

What you do know is that Levi’s the first man who’s ever made you feel like this. Whatever this means, you don’t know, but you feel it. The racing heartbeat, the light layer of sweat dotting your skin, the fight or flight kicking in. It's pure adrenaline, shooting back and forth through your veins like a drug, to a point where you wonder if what you feel is even healthy.

Are you obsessing? Probably. Is it just infatuation running its course? Probably. Are you valid in feeling concerned about all of this? Probably.

It’s a lot of different feelings. It mangles in your mind and you lose track of yourself. How many minutes now have you been washing your hands? How long have you been staring at yourself in the mirror, remembering all of your past lovers? Should you feel guilty about comparing Levi to Eren, to the one night stands and burnt out flames?

You groan, shutting off the tap and gripping the sink’s basin. You have got to get a grip on this. You consider raising a palm to slap yourself, but decide to use it to push away from the mirror, and towards your awaiting shift.

It’s a fairly dead night at the bar. Only a few patrons linger about, and Petra is swiping down table tops to pass the rest of her time. You send her a tight lipped smile, to which she rolls her eyes and mocks a silent groan. Clearly, she doesn’t want to be here tonight either.

As you settle behind the bar counter, setting up clean glasses that probably won’t be filled, the front door swings open, and you know that you’re not going to be able to run anymore. That you have to deal with the consequences of your actions like a big girl. Face your feelings, for fuck’s sake.

Levi’s hair has started to fall in front of his eyes again, though the majority is swept back into the tiniest of buns. His eyes scan the floor until they rise, meeting your direct line of sight.

Run in the opposite fucking direction now.

Your legs protest against your thoughts, your muscles lock and you’re stuck. Why the fuck are you acting so weird? It was just sex.

The best sex you’ve ever had. Post nut clarity didn’t prepare you for the onslaught of emotions you’d be feeling though. You want to run, either to or away from Levi, you’re undecided. You just want this, again whatever this is, to stop.

He takes a stride, and your brain quiets. Perhaps it’s a self defense mechanism. You’re panicking, nearly positive that everyone in the room can feel the awkwardness you radiate. You busy your hands with the glasses, shooting your sights down to the oak counter, and pretend as if the man who brought you insurmountable pleasure didn’t just walk into the room.

You don’t so much as even look up as he walks closer and closer to you. You don’t even flinch when he circles the bar, steps behind you, and takes his place at your side. It’s a tiny victory, one you’re all too eager to celebrate — a shaky breath exits your lips, and your body relaxes.

And then a palm graces the small of your back, and you’re tensed up all over again.

“Hey,” Levi rasps, all too sultry and flirtatious.

You hate the way you smile at his tone, “Hi.”

“You came here all by yourself?” he asks, practically purring.

You will yourself to keep your head down, “Yeah, wanted to get here early.”

“Sure,” Levi clearly doesn’t believe a word coming out of your mouth. “Whatever you say.”

You gulp, not knowing what to respond with. His hand doesn’t move. Instead, his thumb presses further into your spine and makes small circles over your shirt. You want to crawl in a hole and die.

Why can’t you just be normal? What do normal people say after they’ve just had sex with someone else? How do they act? Oh god, this is fucking mortifying. Here you are, sweating bullets and internally screaming over a mere touch.

Levi’s hip brushes against yours as he moves closer, “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Nothing to say,” you murmur bashfully.

“That’s a first,” his voice dips lower. “Sure had a lot to say the other night.”

“I’ll be back!” you begin to bolt, but his hand slides over to your hip to hold you in place.

“Ah-ah,” he hums. “We need to talk.”

“Here? Right now?” your eyes dart around, thoroughly shocked no one has noticed how close you and Levi are at the moment.

“Petra’s here for another hour. Office,” he nods his head towards the hallway door. “Now.”

Dread and anxiety swarm your stomach, and you swallow with a dry throat. Two things can happen here: One — Levi confronts you about your avoidance and overall awkwardness, or two — he confirms this all as one massive mistake.

Either option doesn’t sit well with you. You nod regardless of this, and his hand moves to the middle of your spine, nudging you towards the door.

With heavy feet and wobbly knees, you tread forward, not sparing a single glance back. You know Levi’s right behind you. Too close behind you, actually. His palm falls from your back as you pass through the doorway, an action you’re not sure you want to celebrate or protest against.

You think you black out from sheer panic during the short walk to the office. All too soon, you’re sitting in a familiar worn chair, and Levi’s leaning his backside against the desk, facing you.

You stare at one another for a long pause. You, in preparation for whatever he’s about to say, and him, analyzing your nervous fidgeting. You feel like livestock to a wolf. Staring up, blinking at his piercing gaze, you feel more vulnerable in this instance with him than you have ever felt before. Though he’s stared into the depths of your most sacred parts, swallowed your moans and drank your lust from your lips — this feels entirely more intimate than any moment you’ve shared prior.

The memory claws at your skin behind your cheeks, surfacing blood and flustering in its violence. The heat puts you in the agonizing present, and you cross your legs at the knees.

A feast for a predator, yeah, that’s what you are. What a perfect metaphor.

Levi clears his throat, “Why have you been acting weird?”

“I haven’t,” you deny, averting your gaze to the floor.

“Don’t bother lying,” he says dryly. “I haven’t seen or heard from you in three days. Which is very unlike you.”

“Maybe I decided to give you a break, you know, from annoying you,” you mean the words to come across witty, but they sound quite pathetic upon leaving your lips. You inwardly cringe.

He sighs, deep and long, “Shut up, just be honest.”

“How can I not act weird?” you mumble. “What, what do we even do now?”

“I see the “not friends” thing isn’t working,” he says, and your eyes meet once more. “Well? What else?”

“What do you mean, “what else”? That’s it.”

“That’s it,” he repeats sarcastically. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Why don’t you say how you feel then?” you bite back. “I’m always the one talking.”

“You want to know how I feel? Truly?”

You nod, afraid your voice may crack.

He continues, “I feel like that was the best sex I’ve ever had, and I want to keep fucking you.”

Oh. Well, that’s very blunt.

Your teeth tug on your bottom lip, “Okay?”

“But not if you’re going to act like I don’t exist every time after. So, what else is bothering you?” his tone is unwavering, you feel as if you’re a child being scolded.

“I’ve never done this before,” you murmur honestly under your breath. “What if we ruin something?”

“What’s there to ruin?” Levi crosses his arms. “We work together, live next to each other, if this doesn’t work out, who gives a fuck? We’re both adults, we can act like it.”

“Yeah but like, how casual are we making this?” you bring your palms to your face, fingers digging into your temples. “Are you fucking anyone else? Am I fucking anyone else? Are we exclusive? This is a fucking mess, Levi. I don’t, I’ve never, I just—“

“Why are you so caught up on this?” he asks, tilting his head. “Why can’t you just let this happen?”

“What is this?” you laugh without humor.

“You know, for someone who ran away from home with no money and no plan, you sure get hung up on the smallest of details.”

“Levi—“

“I’m not seeing anyone else,” Levi cuts you off again. “I don’t want to see anyone else. You, you can do whatever you want. I just don’t care to know about it.”

But, you don’t want to see anyone else either. Whether it’s based on how awfully you’re handling the casualness of your situation with the man in front of you, or how much you like Levi, you don’t know. But the option of other people is simply not there for you.

“No,” you admit shyly. “No one else. I don’t want to either.”

“So, we can just,” he starts to fidget, fingers tugging at the hem of his sleeve. “Just rely on each other then.”

“Okay,” you sigh. “Is this like an arrangement then?”

He snorts, “Of sorts, sure. But, maybe, we can just see where this goes.”

We can just see where this goes. Simple enough. Planning for no plan. Can you honestly do that? What if one of you catches real feelings?

“I should tell you now, I guess,” you uncross your legs. “I’ve never been in a relationship before, and I don’t know if I’m necessarily looking for one. I can’t promise you commitment.”

His silver eyes shift to the floor, “That’s fine with me.”

Your heart aches, even though it’s your own warning. You decide not to question the hurt in your chest, “So, friends with benefits then, I guess?”

“Co-worker neighbors with benefits,” he corrects you, the slightest smirk gracing his lips.

“What a mouthful,” you tease, feeling slightly more relaxed. The worst part in this conversation seems to be over, “So what now?”

“Just act normal,” Levi says, tips of his ears beginning to ignite in a red flush. “For the record, it pisses me off more when you try not to annoy me.”

“Aw, you missed me?” you chuckle. “Cute.”

“No,” he scoffs, voice lowering as he continues. “Just didn’t like it. I thought you were regretting fucking me.”

Even in the inner turmoil you’ve been dealing with the last few days, regret was not a part of your thoughts whatsoever. Levi shifts his weight to his left foot, angling his chin down. He doesn’t meet your eyes.

Your expression turns sympathetic, “No, I don’t regret it.”

“Then annoy me anytime you’d like,” he breathes.

It’s a simple sentence, but it feels like a confession. There’s layers to his words, indecipherable and cryptic. It almost coaxes you into your own confession. Almost.

“Will do, boss,” you smile, standing to your feet. “Normal. I can do that.”

“You said something like that last time,” Levi pushes off the desk, taking small steps towards you. His tone dips lower, “Besides, is this not our normal?”

His fingers reach forward, gripping the front of your shirt is a loose fist. He tugs, your legs ever so pliant, until you’re face-to-face with the ravenette. His eyes flicker down, watching the surprised gasp tumble from your lips. His tongue slides over his own pout, and you find yourself locked in on the action.

“We should probably get back to work,” you whisper, eyelashes fluttering.

You want to kiss him so badly. Fuck. What even is normal anyways? You want to normally put your tongue in his mouth, suck on his bottom lip until he loses his patience, bending you over the desk and—

“We should,” his fist loosens, sliding his palm flat over the top of your chest. It’s scorching hot, even through the fabric of your shirt you can feel the heat drip from his fingertips.

It isn’t until his other hand lays weight atop of your covered breast do you pull away. Just as his thumb brushes over the spot where he knows your nipple is hidden, you take a step back. You struggle to catch your breath, sending Levi a warning glare.

“Normal,” you reiterate with a pointed tone.

“Can’t help it,” he shrugs cockily. “Hard to keep my hands off of you.”

“Try,” you bite back, chuckling to yourself. “Fuck.”

“Later?” he smirks.

You turn your back, striding to leave the office. You spare him one last glance over your shoulder, “Maybe.”

The rest of your shift flies by with hardly anymore interactions from your favorite “coworker/neighbor with benefits”. You walk home together as usual, tension in the air so thick you could slice it with a knife. Neither of you act on it, but as you close your front door, you notice the way Levi hesitates to enter his own apartment. He stalls outside your archway, eyes low and swirling.

You take the coldest shower of your life in an attempt to convince yourself that you can make it a week without fucking the stamina out of Levi. Just long enough to really believe what the two of you are is totally normal.

Mostly, it’s to get your feelings in check. Because back in the bar, what you really wanted to tell him was this — “I don’t do commitment, but maybe I can try for you.”

You realize on a particularly cold day that you have fully adjusted to your new life. Days mold together, weeks pass by, and seasons have changed. You’ve witnessed the end of summer and the beginnings of winter. The holidays come and go, and they’re spent with your new found friends — though, they’re not quite as new as before.

You learn Petra’s favorite color is red and she enjoys any meal with potatoes involved. She likes the summer, as she can’t seem to stop talking about how much she misses the glide of a sundress along her knees. She has trouble holding back her opinions, opting to speak her mind because being honest is the most important virtue she holds. She likes to run in the mornings, and she can speak three languages. She’s easily become your best friend here.

Hange is a bit more complicated, simply because you don’t spend a whole lot of time with them. They own the bar you work at, and they’re married to a man named Moblit, though you haven’t gotten the chance to meet him quite yet. The way Hange speaks of him though, it feels as if you have.

Regardless, they’re witty and mischievous, smart and collected. Hange loves texting you memes they find on Twitter, especially ones you do not understand. Still, you laugh, and they explain the joke happily to you.

You learn that you were meant to meet these people. Call it fate, call it whatever, but you feel it deep in your heart that this is true.

No one could ever replace Mikasa, Eren, and Armin — but Hange and Petra fill the void of their absence.

You learn all the creeks in your stairwell, and which parts of the stairs make the loudest noises. That if you adjust the thermostat an hour before sunset, your apartment warms to the most comfortable degree. If you don’t, you shiver all night. You’ve learned that begonias don’t fare well in the cold, so Jeremy now has the sweetest spot in your bedroom next to your balcony doors — drinking up the sunlight and enjoying the paradise of the indoors.

Every day, you gather information about colleges in the area. Should you go online or in person? Should you pursue an art degree again? Should you even go back to school at all? You have to admit, you really miss learning. Plus, France must be a perfect place to continue to learn the fine arts. You’re constantly surrounded by architectural beauty, history painted in the streets. It’s inspiring, almost consuming at times.

All of this reminds you of how permanent you feel here. You’re no longer a stranger to this city — an invasive species turned domesticated. The thought makes you laugh. This is your ecosystem, so to speak, and it scares you how quickly you’ve adjusted. The girl who booked her one way flight is not the same one you are now. You’ve grown, you’ve learned, you’ve thrived.

You don’t regret this. Not one bit.

You forget to remember. You forget to forget. It all blurs, and because the present and the future are so vivid, you start to let go of the past. You don’t know if it’s because you’ve fallen out of love with who you used to be, or because you’re learning to love who you’re becoming.

Regardless, there’s one matter that seems to take hold of your inner dialogue. Rearing it’s obnoxious head dead center in your mind’s eyes, showing off its glistening teeth and claws and howling things you can’t seem to shake.

Levi is right. Why can’t you just let things happen? What’s the worst thing that can truly happen?

The week passes by with those questions in mind. Let go, let go, let go. You can exist in all three — past, present, future. You can allow yourself to be different versions of you, and why shouldn’t you? Why mourn a past, why dread a future? Why shouldn’t you celebrate the fact you are where you are because of where you came from? Why shouldn’t you be prideful of what’s to come next?

And why the fuck shouldn’t you just be present right now?

Two fingers gently tap on the bar in front of you, breaking you from your thoughts. You really have to stop zoning out at work.

“Sorry,” you mumble to Claude, who offers you a small smile in return. “I’ll get your drink in just a second.”

Oh, another thing you’ve learned — you no longer need Levi’s cheat sheet to make drinks.

He nods, and even though he hardly ever speaks, he understands your words at least. His glass is placed in front of him, and he offers another nod as a thank you. You smile curtly, and lean your elbows on the bar.

“Hey, Claude,” you start apprehensively. “You consider yourself wise?”

The mustached man simply shrugs. You snort, and continue, “What do you do when you feel like you don’t know yourself anymore?”

“Flow,” his voice is deep and graveled. “Learn to go with it.”

“Even if it scares you?”

“Yes, what’s life without fear?”

“You are wise,” you crack a grin. “Thanks.”

His palm lifts, gesturing to you to keep talking. His crinkled eyes blink, overflowing with sincerity.

“Things have changed so much,” you sigh. “I’ve changed so much. I can’t stop thinking about the past, the people who were in it. I miss them, but I can feel myself letting go. I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing.”

“Neither,” Claude takes a deep breath. “We’re people, it’s what we’re meant to do.”

“Time just keeps going,” you discard your gaze to the floor. “I feel like a new person every day. I don’t feel like me.”

“How is that bad?” he asks. “You’re still you.”

“I’m still me,” you chuckle lowly. “I am still me.”

And you’re stuck with yourself until the very end. It feels beautiful to think this. It would be awfully boring to always stay the same, wouldn’t it?

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck are you two on?”

Your attention snaps to the sudden voice, Hange standing with their arms crossed, eyebrows bunched together. A slightly taller man stands beside them, brown shaggy hair brushing along his forehead. He wears an apologetic grin, and your focus floats to the lazy arm thrown around Hange’s waist. You smile as you connect the dots.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Moblit!” you beam. “Hange talks about you so much I feel like I already know you!”

He blushes, throwing Hange an affectionate glance, “I wish that was the first time I’ve been told that.”

Hange swats at his chest playfully, “I love you, stupid! Of course I’m gonna talk about you!”

“I didn’t realize you worked today?” you tilt your head in question.

“Just stopping by, taking care of some bills. Moblit’s gotta take a look around and make sure everything’s up and running alright. Levi’s stopping in too.”

“Levi?” he also isn’t supposed to be working today.

Since Monday, the two of you have hardly seen each other. Passing by at work, offering sultry gazes, acting in your versions of normal — it’s as if nothing between the two of you has changed. Even though everything has.

You still can’t shake the nerves the thought of him brings you, but you’ve been making more of an active effort to not be weird.

“Yeah, same thing,” they roll their eyes. “Boring bills. Making sure the toilets flush. Blah. Blah.”

“Don’t sound so excited,” you laugh.

“Should be here in the next hour,” they tug at Moblit’s arm, heading towards the hallway door. “Okay, go back to your deep deep talk!”

The pair disappear, and your heart feels fuzzy. They’re really sweet together.

“Thanks for the clarity, Claude,” you sigh happily, standing fully upright.

He nods his head, raising his glass, “Anytime. You don’t get this old being stupid.”

You chuckle, and shake your head. You find a rag to your left, deciding now is a great time to wipe down some more spotless tables. Weekday shifts are the worst, as usual, the bar is almost barrenly empty. Just you, Claude, Moblit and Hange — and soon to be Levi.

As you work and buffer out the tabletops, you fall back into your thoughts.

You can’t forget the past. Sure, it may get dull over time, it may seem as if eons have passed since the memories were made, but you can never forget.

Mikasa’s phone number starts with an eight. Her favorite color is blue. She likes to read old poetry because it makes her feel empowered and ethereal. Her favorite place to be is the barricade at a concert of her favorite band. She smells like coconut. She hates pickles.

She forgave you for ruining the most important night of her highschool years. It’s a funny story, actually, but you’ll find time to recall the specifics later. You’ll remember.

Armin may be the smartest, wisest, kindest soul you’ve ever met. He hates bustling crowds, loves to read anything, but his favorite book is The Great Gatsby. You could talk to Armin about everything and anything for hours, he’s a walking encyclopedia. He taught you how to appreciate the beauty in kindness.

Eren’s canines are pointed, vampirically so. They poke at his bottom lip when he laughs or smiles. He’s obnoxious and abrasive, but he’s kind and soft too. He was always there for you when you needed a friend the most.

The four of you together, though? Nearly unstoppable. A kaleidoscope of memories flood you — late night study sessions, pitchers of piss-like beer pouring, laughter as loud as thunder. Best friends forever, even though you’re gone. You could never forget them, ever.

They still smile just as brightly in the hazy recollection of yesterdays, the varnished tables you polish reflect their gleams through light rays from bulbs above.

A cold breeze disrupts you, the wind chilling down your spine and scratching along your skin. You shiver, and without turning around you know Levi’s come in, right on time — for more than one reason. A few more footsteps follow behind him, probably the exit of Claude. It’s late, so it’s unlikely you’ll be faced with any more customers.

The telltale footsteps fall closer, until you’re compelled to look to your right, and there he stands. Levi looks cute. He’s bundled up in a thick black coat, face red from the harsh weather, hair flat against his forehead from his beanie. He looks adorable, really.

His lips twitch as his hand extends forward, and your eyes follow his movements. He holds tight to a thickly papered cup, tilting it towards you.

“What’s this?” you smile, reaching out to transfer the drink into your hold.

“Tea, it’s hot,” his eyes flicker teasingly. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Thank you,” you chuckle, wrapping both hands around the warmth. “That was very sweet of you. Some might even say it’s weird.”

His eyes roll, and he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “Consider it one of the benefits.”

“Thought I can’t get used to it?”

“A one-time benefit.”

You arch an eyebrow, “Only once?”

“Maybe twice, if I’m feeling generous.”

“How kind of you.”

“I can take it back.”

You bring the cup to your chest, your lips forming into a pout. Levi laughs through his nose, shaking his head.

“You good to close up by yourself while I help Hange with bills?” he stuffs his hands into his coat pockets.

“I think so! Unless, you wanna stick around and keep me company,” you beam.

“It’s gonna be snowing by the time you’re out of here. I don’t have a choice. I don’t feel like hearing you complain about a broken anything after slipping on ice,” he says flippantly, already shifting his weight to make way towards the office.

“What’re you gonna do? Break my fall?”

“You wish I was that nice of a person.”

“Your actions state otherwise,” you shake the cup gently to prove your point.

Levi rolls his eyes playfully, “Let me know if you need help.”

“I think I got it,” you smile, large and prideful.

“Okay,” though he doesn’t smile, his eyes glimmer in a similar manner. His lips part as if to speak more, but his mouth shuts, and he’s shaking his head. Levi stalks off quickly afterwards.

Sighing to yourself, you put an end to your nonsensical wiping, and start the closing process. With the now emptied bar area, it’s fairly easy to do. Washed drinkware is set up along a dry towel on the reddened oak counter, the blinds to the windows are drawn shut, the floor is swept, money is accounted for. Thankfully to your wonderful coworkers, and Levi, you have the closing shift down to a science. By the fifteen minute mark, you’ve completed most of the mundane necessities, and you’re left to idly straighten up the occasional bottle or two on the shelving decorating the back wall, sipping from your gifted tea.

It’s a boring routine, but it’s one you’re happy to know as well as you do now. It’s improvement and growth, no matter how small of a deal it may seem. It’s a victory in its own right to you.

Hange and Moblit exit the hallway door within the half an hour it takes for you to close down the bar. They seem hurried, stumbling and whispering — they’re really flustered, but you can’t find the reason for it. Blush speckles across their cheeks, their voices thick and heavy like syrup, and then you take note of their twitching hands and heavy panting.

Oh. You smirk. They hardly raise their hands in a goodbye as they fly out of the bar. You wonder if that’s how you and Levi will look leaving.

No, you know that’s how you’ll look. You’ve made up your mind. Because you are changing, you should allow yourself the freedom of trying new things — your past is just an intricate and complex foundation, a column of support to help you stand tall in your present.

You can just let things happen. Specifically, you can let yourself fall into whatever with Levi. Whether it be love, hatred, or nothing with him, you’ll let it happen.

Levi is sitting at the desk when you enter the office, hand holding his chin, elbow on the table. His coat is folded neatly on the armchair adjacent to the desk, his beanie like a cherry on top of the pile. His hair is disheveled, as if he’s been raking his fingers through the locks out of stress. His eyes flick up upon your arrival, but they shift back down to the paperwork in front of him.

Good. You want him to be surprised.

Your fingers rest on your hips, tugging at the hem of the sweater you’ve decided to wear today. You’re nervous, but in one motion, you tug the fabric over your head. Messily tossing it on the chair, Levi casts his attention to the sound of rustling, and his eyes glaze over to you upon realization.

He says your name in a low gravel, “What are you doing?”

Your fingers trace over the straps of your bra, slowly placing one foot in front of the other, “Acting normal, annoying you. You said I could do it whenever I wanted.”

He breathes a swear under his breath, eyes greedily drinking in your half naked form, “I did.”

You nod, “You did.”

When you reach the front of the desk, you idly pick up the small pile of papers on the surface, and set them neatly to the floor. Levi doesn’t stop you, in fact, he’s already leaning back in his chair, palms face down on his thighs. His knuckles twitch, and his gaze flickers all over your form.

It doesn’t matter if you look sexy right now, you feel it with the way Levi looks at you. You almost wish you had left your shirt on. You wonder if he’d react like this even with you fully clothed.

Your naked belly lays against the cold wood, elbows holding your upper half up, hands cradling your cheeks. You grin wickedly, “Hi.”

A single palm floats up from his lap, a thumb presses into the plush of your bottom lip. You kiss the digit as he heaves, “Fuck.”

You pepper slow, tantalizing kisses down the expanse of his thumb, nipping at the meat where it connects into his palm. Your tongue soothes over the bite in a teasing lick, your lips pressing flat and smooth against his skin. Your eyes dart to his, and your mouth waters. Levi’s jaw is slacked, amazement written in his expression.

“Want you,” you murmur, gasping out a lustful noise from the back of your throat. “Want you so bad, Levi.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathes, stupified. “Are you, are you trying, what?”

You giggle, low and seductive, “What’s the matter?”

“You,” he grits, forcing the tip of his thumb past your pout. Your tongue circles the pad, and he regrounds himself in a, “Fucking suck it.”

Your hands leave your face, gripping his wrist and tugging his hand back. Your teeth scrape against his knuckles, lips popping as it rests against your lips, “No.”

“Don’t be a brat,” Levi warns, a blush creeping up his neck and cheeks. “You came in here. You started this.”

“Exactly.”

You push yourself off the desk, circling the wood, and plant your ass to the surface before him. You spread your legs, lean back on your hands, and smirk.

“You use your fucking mouth,” you assert yourself, hooking your right ankle around his neck.

His flustered demeanor changes in a blink of an eye. His fingers wrap around your foot, throwing your leg off of his shoulder. Levi stands to full height, palms slapping against your thighs to prevent you from running. His eyes are narrowed, pupils dilated and hazy. His jaw clenches, his anger clear and apparent.

“And who the fuck told you that you were in charge, slut?”

You choke on a strangled gasp of surprise, heat rocketing down to your center, “Excuse me?”

“Did I stutter?” he leans forward, lips dangerously edging towards your own. You whimper, he continues, “You come in here after depriving me of your pussy for an entire week, you fucking temptress, and decide you get to call the shots? You think you deserve my mouth? Licking and sucking on your needy little clit until you cum? Huh?”

Holy shit. Where the fuck did this come from?

You attempt to sit up further, to leverage your lower half closer to where you need the blissful pressure of Levi’s bulge. It’s prominent now that he stands, a stiff bump in the lining of his crotch. Maybe you should’ve just done what you were told. Maybe you would’ve been rewarded with his cock in your mouth.

“Answer me,” Levi growls, a palm sliding up to grab your neck, fingers pressing into your pulse point.

“I do, I want it,” you whine. “Levi, please.”

“Should’ve used that empty head of yours before making demands,” he hisses. His hand travels up, his pointer and middle fingers tap at your wet lips, “Now suck.”

When Levi talks to you like that, in that tone, calling you all these names, you have to listen. As much as you want to push his hand away, regain control of this switching dominance, you don’t. You listen, you submit, you wrap your lips around his curling fingers, and you suck.

Your tongue traces between the digits, softly and teasingly. The pads of his fingers press your muscle down, edging towards the back of your throat. Your eyes flutter shut, and for dramatic effect, you moan gently as you slowly bob your head. Levi traces every taste bud on your tongue through this, mapping out the textured wetness of your eager mouth. When you open your eyes, his eyes are hyper focused on your lips.

He pulls his wrist back, sliding his fingers beyond your teeth and to your lips. He smears your saliva across your pout, gripping your bottom lip between his thumb and pointer finger. He tugs, and you follow.

The kiss he greets you with is soft — dainty, he hardly presses the creases of his lips to yours. It almost tickles. His breath fans out from his nose, whispering at your cupid’s bow. When you try to lean forward, to seek out that passionate embrace you know he’s capable of, Levi pulls away. Not far, but far enough to keep that small distance between you.

“Tease,” you giggle breathlessly.

“You started it,” he responds, his palms falling to your thighs once more. His fingers circle around, grasping at the undersides of your knees, and he pulls you closer until your ass is at the edge of the desk. His hips wiggle forward, slotting between your opened legs, “Look at you, coming in here, taking your shirt off, why?”

“You know why,” you fight back the urge to roll your eyes. “I already said it.”

“That’s not what I heard,” his lips descend down your neck, laying careless kisses to your throat. “Use your words.”

“I want you,” you moan, tossing your head back to allow him more skin.

“Tell me how,” he demands roughly, nipping at your collarbone.

You shutter, “Take me on the desk. God, just, fuck me.”

“Filthy,” Levi chuckles darkly. “Want me to fill you up, right here, in the office? Fuck you until you can’t walk? You’ll need me to carry you home, you know.”

“Don’t care,” you buck your hips, desperately trying to catch friction against his jeans. “Need you.”

“Love it when you talk like that, princesse.”

“Lev’,” you pant, his kisses becoming more and more uncontrolled. “Please.”

Without a snarky comment, Levi reaches between the two of you, and begins to unbutton your pants. His lips engulf the skin above your bra, licking and sucking a heated path across the top of your chest. He yanks down the waistband of your jeans, you lift your hips, and the denim is tugged down to your ankles. Your shoes are slid off of your feet. Then, slowly, he takes each foot, rolling the remainder of your clothing off until it lays on the floor. His arms circle around your bare waist, his mouth ascending to your cheek.

His chest meets yours, his hands solidifying at your hips, thumbs pressing into your belly.

Then you feel it — the harsh weight of his desire pressing flush to yours. His cock is hard, the texture of fabric is rough, and this is going all way too fucking slowly for your liking. Your hands leave his back to find solace at his navel, and you work his zipper down until the feeling of denim is replaced by smooth cotton.

You moan at the contrast, “Fuck, just put it in.”

“We don’t have a condom,” he states, making no effort to stop your palms from working his member free of his briefs. The head slides through the small slit of fabric, his precum dampening your already wet panties, “‘S not smart.”

Fuck being smart, you want his dick in your cunt right now. You want the messy, unhinged slurring speech to fall from his lips as his balls slap against your ass. You want the hair pulling, teeth indenting, wild and untamed sex only he can give you. You want to do it on this desk, at your job, you want him to call you names and tell you how disgusting and needy you are — you’ll say the same things right back to him.

You want Levi to fuck you out of your mind, to finally quiet your never-ending thoughts from this week. You don’t want to comprehend a past, present, or future. You just want to exist, in the simplest form of existing.

Levi doesn’t stop you as your other hand works your panties to the side, doesn’t even verbally protest as you slide his leaking cock against your clit. You groan as you work his member in tight circles, rubbing his prespend into your bundle of nerves. You pulse, clenching on nothing, soon to be everything he has to offer, and he finally presses his lips to yours. He devours you in this way, sucking on your bottom lip, sliding his tongue along your teeth and against your own wet muscle. He’s breathing so heavily, but so are you, so you don’t make a comment about it.

You move his throbbing cock down to where you need him the most, your hole spasming in anticipation. It barely dips in, his frenulum just about to fall into the depths of your cunt. You’re so wet, you can feel yourself dripping down his length. The lack of prep will probably hurt like a bitch at first, but the reward is worth it.

You’ll feel the way he throbs once he’s buried inside of you, feel the combined arousal deep within you. Is it your gushing want or his that’ll fill you up? Levi will pull out once he begins to feel that rush of climax, spewing his hot seed all over your thighs and belly. Maybe he’ll be kind enough to let you sink to your knees when that happens, and you’ll swallow every drop he spills down your throat.

He rocks his tip back, ready to plunge, ready to take you. Your knees press into his sides, ready to cage his cock in your soaking cunt, ready to lose yourself in him.

“Hey sorry forgot my coat— what the fuck!”

The scream you let out should’ve been reserved for something else.

Levi’s cock falls out of you, and he presses you entirely to his chest, arms shielding your naked back from whoever just walked in, “Get out!”

“Oh my god!”

Oh fuck, it’s Hange.

You are definitely going to get fired for this.

You push your face into Levi’s shoulder, silently praying you’ll just sink into his skin and disappear from this entire ordeal. This is fucking mortifying.

“No fucking way, on the desk? Levi!” Hange begins to laugh, obnoxious and loud. “Holy shit!”

“Close the fucking door!” Levi shouts, hand cradling the back of your head.

“Okay, okay!” The office door slams, signaling their exit. In the silence following, you can hear clear as day through the wood, “I fucking knew it!”

Embarrassed doesn’t begin to describe how you feel.

Levi doesn’t move his arms, instead, he tugs you closer, “We’re going to get dressed.”

You nod, unable to find the courage to speak. His fingers pet along your scalp, and he continues, “Everything’s going to be fine.”

You don’t believe this, but you nod once more, and try not to cry. Everything you worked for will be gone as soon as your clothes are on, and you’re forced to deal with the consequences of your actions.

When Levi finally releases you, handing over your clothes and giving you the space to get dressed, you decide on something. Whatever wrath you’ll face outside that door, you’ll take the full and total blame.

How stupid of you to try and seduce Levi, unprotectedly, at your place of work? This all falls on you, and your reckless choices. Maybe you should care about the future. Maybe it’ll prevent you from making dumb decisions like this.

You’re quiet as you finish dressing, internally berating yourself. Levi waits, patient and collected. You send him an apologetic look, sorry for more than one reason, and you walk towards the door. He says your name, but your hand wraps around the handle, and you meet your fate.

Hange leans against the hallway wall, their smirk sly and eyes narrowed, “Care to explain why I just walked in on you guys going at it like a couple of fucking animals?”

“I’m sorry,” your voice shakes. “I’m so fucking sorry Hange. It will never happen again.”

“Not here, at least,” they snort. “What were you guys thinking? Anyone could’ve walked in, the front door was unlocked. You’re really fucking lucky it was me.”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, attempting to keep pathetic tears at bay.

“Levi?” Hange looks past you, eyebrows raised. “Anything you want to say?”

“Not really,” he stands directly behind you, discreetly running his fingers along your back.

“I’m really angry at you two,” they frown. “Like, really pissed off.”

“Don’t act so high and mighty,” Levi scoffs. “You would’ve never known about it had you remembered your coat.”

“That’s exactly why I’m mad!” they shout, flinging their arms up. “When did this even happen?”

You blink, thoroughly confused, “What?”

“I can’t believe you guys have been hooking up and didn’t tell me! Levi!” Hange whines, pouting. “You should’ve told me!”

“You would’ve made it a big deal,” Levi says calmly. “Like how you are right now.”

“To be fair, I did just find you guys fucking on my desk. I have a right to be freaking out right now.”

“Wait, are you not mad? About that?” you ask timidly.

They roll their eyes, “Of course I’m mad about that. That’s gross. Do you know how many times Moblit and I have fucked in the office? Now I’m going to have to disinfect that entire room to ever consider taking him in there again.”

If you could see Levi’s face, you’d see the gag he tries to hold down.

Hange laughs, “What the fuck, you guys? Seriously, you couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to make it home? Holy fuck, I’d be so embarassed if I were you two. That’s punishment enough.”

“I’m not getting fired?” you feel so stupid for asking this question, but it needs to be asked. Hange is acting way too cool about this whole thing.

“No, I’m not firing you,” they sigh. “I probably should, but I’m not. Just don’t fuck at work, again, and we’ll be straight.”

You’d rather eat rocks than to stand another second of this conversation, so you nod, and murmur, “I promise”, and make a beeline towards the bar.

“I want details about everything!” Hange shouts down the hallway. “Wait, fuck! I lost the bet to Claude! God dammit!”

With a promise to Hange to clean the entire office until it sparkles and gleams, the three of you depart from the bar. Levi walks close to your side, your feet crunching in the newly fallen snow coating the sidewalk.

What starts as a giggle manifests into full blown laughter, your hysteria filling the silence shared between the two of you as you walk home.

Well, that could’ve turned out a lot worse. You got a slap on the wrist, barely.

You feel crazy, but the laughter feels good, so it doesn’t stop. Tears swell in your waterline, and Levi’s chuckling to himself quietly.

“That was easily top five most embarrassing things to ever happen to me,” you heave, wiping the wetness from underneath your eyes. “Maybe even top three.”

“Told you everything would be fine,” Levi smirks. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve walked in on Hange and Moblit. We were going at it like animals? I’m traumatized from the shit I’ve seen them do.”

“You didn’t even put it all the way in!” you smile, shaking your head. “Imagine if they had come in five minutes later, holy shit, that would’ve been a thousand times worse.”

“Hange would’ve gotten a show then,” he snorts, elbow knocking against yours. “I wouldn’t have been able to stop.”

“Don’t say stuff like that,” you gently shove yourself into his side. “Clearly I don’t know how to control myself.”

“I was about to fuck you raw,” he arches an eyebrow. “What does that say?”

“That we’re not a good match,” you tease. “We obviously can’t use our brains when we’re together.”

“You may be onto something.”

“If I’m right, then I’m not. No brain power is being used at any moment when I’m with you.”

“Just when you’re with me?”

“Hey,” you laugh. “Keep calling me stupid and watch what happens.”

“Are you threatening me?” The back of his hand brushes against yours.

Your fingers twitch, “No, I’m promising you.”

“Promising me what?” His pinky interlocks with yours.

“I’ll ruin your life,” your wrist circles, connecting your palms together.

His thumb runs over your knuckles, “That’s a big promise.”

“I don’t take insults lightly.”

“Wonder what you’ll promise me if I complimented you.”

“Probably something nicer,” you muse. “Probably.”

“You’re really cute,” Levi breathes. “What’s your promise?”

Your eyes lock into his, a smile breaking through your lips, “I promise I’ll give you a kiss.”

He stops, turning towards you. You follow suit, facing the ravenette. Snowflakes flutter down, glistening in the low lighting from the street lamps lining your path home. A few land on your nose and cheeks, but the heat of Levi’s gaze is enough to make them melt on impact. He looks beautiful. His silvery eyes sparkling and sweet, his expression relaxed and happy.

Happy. Yeah, you feel happy, too.

You wish you could freeze this moment like the snow around you. To exist solely in the present for this moment of time, to be the snowflake drifting through the never ending breeze of the sky. Landing on the ground to join all the others who came before it, to chant a cold and broken hallelujah when the night continues on. To witness the way Levi leans forward, gently cupping your cheek, and kissing your lips.

You make your decision then, completely, the creases of your mouth intertwining with his. You’ll fall like the snow, you’ll melt with the sun, you’ll bloom with the flowers. You’ve done it before, and you’ll do it again.

Armin gives the warmest advice. Eren’s grin is toothy. Petra’s favorite color is red. Hange is understanding.

Mikasa’s phone number begins with an eight.

Levi is beautiful. And you are changing.

the taglist will now be made in a separate post to ensure everyone gets the notification! let me know if you guys are still missing the notif sigh

#they're.......soulmates #okay i'm trying not to be emotional #but i am

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