#i’ll be adjusting my settings shortly

[luvacookie]

mr steal ur girl.

eren notices an unfamiliar face at one of his frat parties…

❥ warnings : reiner bein a dick, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap), nicknames, squirting, porn w a plot, intended use of lower case, mildly proof read, shy-ish reader, black fem coded.

❥ cookie for ur thoughts ? : my first post, my first aot idea >~< ! idk how people will respond to this. i need to write a lil sum sum for con, i will work on it…

“pleaseee ! you never come out with me! plus you get to be around reiner.”

pieck stared at you through the floor length mirror, adjusting her black skin tight dress as you ignored her and continued to scroll through your phone. as per usual, she was going to one of her parties hosted by her friends and as per usual she was asking you to join her.

normally you declined, opting to stay wrapped up in bed, catching up on one of your hour long k-dramas episodes or looking over work you did in a lecture.

parties were not your scene and they never had been.

“pieck… i don’t know…” you responded sceptically, curling the end of your braid around your finger.

“i can set you up with reiner, he talks about you all the time you know,” pieck said walking over to your bed.

you sighed, you knew she was just using your delusional crush on reiner to lure you in and unfortunately it was working.

you pushed your glasses up, exhaling defeatedly. pieck smiled and clapped her hands together, jumping up from the bed.

“we have to make sure you look cute as fuck so shower, skincare, makeup, whatever you need to do and by time you get out i’ll have a cute fit for you!” she said happily, digging through your clothes.

you hauled yourself out of bed, grabbing your towel and headed to the shower. you cleaned up nicely, freshening yourself up for the party. you put your braids into a half-up half-down with a side parting, laying your edges with a decorative heart.

pieck had picked out a two piece pink set for you with white string heels, you matched your accessories accordingly with pink hair clips and white glasses.

she smiled at you in awe. “you look so fuckin’ good right now! you seriously need to get out more.”

you looked down shyly, “are you sure pie’? this is so out of my zone.”

“oh my god, of course i’m sure, now come on. reiner won’t wait all night,” she giggled.

she grabbed you by the hand and dragged you to her convertible, making sure to let the top down so the warm night air hit your faces. the ride there was filled with vibes and giggles, your nerves slowly disappearing.

soon enough you arrived at the frat house, the musics blaring through all the open doors and windows. people were dancing on the lawn, cars pulled up in every direction. pieck dragged you through the crowd, stopping for a couple seconds at a time to say hi to her mutuals.

soon enough you found your way into the kitchen with her where the rest of your friend group was.

“hey guys!” pieck called out over the music and they all greeted her back.

“no fuckin’ way you brought y/n,” connie said, licking his paper and putting the blunt behind his ear.

you waved at him, smiling lightly.

“well damn, who woulda thought,” annie said from beside him, holding a red solo cup.

“she finally managed to convince me soooo…” you trailed off leaning against the counter.

“you look hot though,” sasha commented, a lazy smile on her face as if she was already high.

“mmm, cheers to that,” reiner said from behind you.

you turned around, looking him up and down. he had a simple white tee on that hugged his arms perfectly, a pair of black cargo’s with a silver chain. he handed you a cup and knocked it with yours, tipping the contents of it back.

you stared at him briefly, watching his throat move as he swallowed. you followed shortly after, pulling a face as the liquor burned your throat.

everyone spoke amongst themselves, pieck catching up on all the lost drinks, leaving you and reiner to have a sweet conversation.

“why don’t i see you out enough?” he asked, looking down at you.

you turned your head to the side, the eye contact making your stomach flip, “not really my thing.”

“they should be,” he followed up quickly, “you’re too pretty to be kept hostage in your dorm.”

you looked at him, smiling. “thanks.”

“no problem sweetheart,” he poured himself another drink, refilling yours too.

“you drink a lot?” he asked, sipping on his mix.

“not really, only when i come to these things, which is basically never,” you chuckled lightly, tasting your drink.

“i’m gonna have to force pieck to bring you out more, you’re too fuckin’ pretty darling.”

“rei, stop you’re making me feel shy,” you sighed, looking at him with obvious heart eyes.

he made a noise in his throat, a cocky smirk on his face. “dance with me?”

you stared, your brain slowly registering before you nodded. you turned to pieck, gesturing that you were going with reiner and she gave you a massive thumbs up in encouragement.

reiner took your hand in his and lead you to where the music was the loudest, putting your hands around his neck as his met your waist. he stayed with you like that for the majority of the song, his eyes holding yours.

your acrylics danced at the nape of his neck, as the grip on your waist slowly became tighter. he pulled you close enough for your chests to be touching, forcing you to look up at his height.

“are you even listening ? hellooo?”

“yeah..yeah, who’s that?” eren asked, ignoring whatever armin was saying.

armin looked around, “who?”

“her,” eren said, nodding in your direction.

“oh, y/n l/n. she’s in my english major,” armin said dismissively.

eren nodded, watching how you were slowly grinding on reiner, or realistically how your tits were moving in your dress. he had never seen you before, so how did you know reiner of all people?

as the song ended you pulled reiner down to your height, muttering something to him in which he nodded. you left the room, leaving reiner to join one of his other group of friends, though he didn’t see where you left to as porco joined him and armin.

you returned to the kitchen where connie was left on his own, tapping the ash off his blunt into the sink.

“you and reiner?” he asked, his words slightly slowed.

you poured a shot, smiling to yourself. “maybe. i don’t know.”

you tipped it back as he continued talking to you. “he likes you, you know that right?”

you reapplied your lipgloss, “does he?”

“for real, he talks about you all the time,” he inhaled slowly.

“that’s cute. i like him too,” you smiled at connie.

he exhaled and turned the roll to you, “you smoke?”

“no… i’ve only hit once before,” you admitted, staring at it.

“you don’t wanna hit that shit, probably laced,” came a deep voice from behind you.

you turned to see eren leaning on the door frame, staring at you. he was wearing simple grey sweats and a white tee, his hair pulled back into a messy bun.

“fuck off yaeger,” connie muttered, rolling his eyes, smoke exhaling his mouth with a string of cusses following.

he ignored connie, focusing his attention on you. “you’ve never been to one of these before have you?”

“do i stand out that bad?” you shook your head, the sound of your acrylic tapping the glass following.

eren walked round the counter, pouring himself straight whiskey. “oh you stand out… would’ve remembered your face.”

you tip your head to the side and glance back at connie who stares at you blankly. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“means your cute, your boyfriend is lucky,” he comments swiftly.

“my boyfriend ?” you question, toying with the curly end of your braid.

“reiner. i would think so anyways after the way you were dancing with him,” he responds, a glint in his eye as if he was digging for information.

you look up and make eye contact with him. “he’s not my boyfriend—”

“not yet anyways,” connie interrupts.

you felt your face flush, unsure if you had turned a shade of red or not. you shook your head and had another shaky shot, the alcohol seeping it’s way into your bloodstream.

“what’s your name ?” eren asks, sipping vodka straight from the bottle that was left on the counter.

“y/n,” you responded. “don’t worry, i know who you are eren.”

he tipped his head to the side slightly, he liked the way you said his name.

he hummed, continuing his drink when his friend armin entered the room.

“are reiner and annie fucking or something ?” he asks, a twinge of annoyance in his tone.

you turned to look at armin, your heart slightly dropping. “what do you mean ?”

armin looks at you as if he hadn’t registered you were in the room, “n-nothing. just the way they were talkin’ and dancing and shit..”

you were sure you felt your heart drop this time. annie and reiner ? they had never gave an indication that they liked each other.

you looked off to the side, your throat slowly going dry.

connie noticed and sighed. “they like siblings, don’t stress it.”

you nodded, “y-yeah of course, i just need some air or something.”

you used that as your cue to leave, eren’s eyes following your figure as you walked past him towards the back garden.

you were slightly embarrassed, choking up in front of three boys, two of them you barley knew. you sat on a chair in the corner, taking a shallow breath and texting pieck.

y/n : i think i’m ready to cut pie

pie 🙇🏾‍♀️💓 : y ? e oksy?

you looked at her message and knew she was drunk, yet she still tried her best to check in on you.

y/n : yh dw abt me imma jus take an uber or smthin

pie 🙇🏾‍♀️💓 : olay

pie 🙇🏾‍♀️💓 : grt home sfe iky <3333

you sighed and turned your phone off, looking at the people in the garden. you heard giggling and saw reiner and annie trip over one another, clearly having a good time with themselves.

you turned your phone on and scrolled through your missed texts when you felt a person stood behind you. you looked up and saw eren’s green eyes looking at annie and reiner.

“what a prick,” eren sighed, looking down to meet your eyes.

“it’s cool. annie’s better than me by like tenfold so i’m not really shocked,” you responded, dropping your phone in your lap.

“don’t be fuckin’ dumb, reiner’s a blind asshole. he always has been,” he comforted you. “here.”

he handed you his lit joint and you took a hesitant hit, careful not to get lipgloss all over the paper.

eren watched you as you exhaled into the air, swallowing nothing. “you good?”

you nodded, “ ‘m good.”

you guys stayed like that for a while, exchanging useless comments and smoking. eren was glad that your mood had been lifted. at some point you had ended up back in the kitchen with your group of friends, high and definitely drunk.

pieck had everyone do body shots off of her stomach and made you dance round the counter like an idiot, something you were too drunk to question.

“where’d you go?” reiner’s voice said from behind you, his arms wrapping around your shoulders.

you tensed uncomfortably, though reiner was far too gone to notice. you wriggled out of his grasp, turning around to look at him. “s-sorry, i ended up getting distracted by eren and connie.”

eren nodded at whatever words mikasa was saying, his eyes focusing on the way reiner was forcing a conversation after abandoning you to fuck around with annie.

“yaeger? what were you doing with that bastard ?” reiner said, ignoring the way you rubbed your arm rather nervously.

“n-nothing, we was jus’ talking and shi—”

“fuck that, don’t hang around with that kid,” reiner cut you off, staring at you rather annoyed.

“reiner, i’m sorry he just—”

“why shouldn’t she hang around with me ? i’d say i’m a pretty fun time,” eren said lazily, sitting on the counter beside you.

reiner glared at him, “don’t start your bullshit with me yaeger.”

“i’d say you’re starting problems with me braun, tellin’ pretty girls they should steer clear,” he responded.

eren looked unbothered whereas reiner had become rather agitated.

he ignored reiner, turning to you, “wanna go some where else ?”

you looked at reiner then at eren before nodding, following his lead and taking his hand as he lead you somewhere else.

“fuckin’ hell. rei just got his bitch stolen by yaeger,” porco muttered, reiner still heard it.

“you good princess?” eren mumbled, the sound of his door clicking shut.

“mhm, thank you,” you responded from his desk, untying your heels as he pushed himself up on his bed.

“for what?” he asked pointedly, his eyes locking with yours.

“the reiner thing—”

“anybody with working brain cells could see that you were uncomfortable, i was just helping out,” he dismissed, his hands resting behind his head.

you nodded, holding eye contact with him. the room went silent, the only sound being the tapping of your acrylics against the wood of his desk.

eren sighed, patting the cover of his bedsheets. “c’mere, you too far away.”

you let out a little laugh, hopping off his desk and standing in front of him. he grabbed you by your hands and pulled you on top of him, settling yourself on his hips. he was less than bother by the sudden added weight of your own body, his hands meeting the side of your thighs.

“you really are mad pretty,” he mumbled, squeezing the fat of your thighs that was closer to your ass.

you exhaled, turning your head to try and hide your smile. he grabbed your face and turned it back to him, his eyes hooded with lust.

you stared at him and your eyes dropped to his lips and unfortunately for you, he didn’t miss it. you took a deep breath and leaned forward, encasing eren’s lips in yours.

his hands instantly moved to your ass, squeezing roughly. he kissed you back hard, pushing his hips upwards.

your hands travelled to the back of his hair, your acrylics burying themselves in the nape of his neck. he sat up properly so he could flip you over, a shear display of his strength.

he bit at the bottom of your lip, taking advantage of the whine you let out to slip his tongue into your mouth. his hands wondered down the front of your top, though he pulled away, inspecting your face.

“why’d you stop ?” you mumbled, your eyes darting towards his swollen lips.

“nothin’, just checking to see if you’re actually sober. you alright with this though ?” he asked and you nodded eagerly, tugging at his hoodie.

he laughed. “you’re a desperate thing aren’t you.”

“eren, please,” you mumbled, pulling him forwards with more force.

“fuck. whatever you want princess,” he groaned, grabbing you by the neck and pulling you into a deeper kiss than before.

you moaned quietly as he untied the front of your shirt, revealing your lacy white bra.

“please tell me you weren’t wearing this for reiner,” he begged, rubbing on your tits.

you shook your head. “thank fuck for that.”

he pulled your skirt off, revealing your matching set, throwing the skirt somewhere in his room.

“fuck sake, y/n,” he muttered, eyes trailing the whole of your body.

you tugged at his zipper, “off, i want it off.”

he unzipped his hoodie with a chuckle, removing his shirt too, revealing his muscles. “makin’ demands now ?”

you rolled your eyes and pulled him back in for another heated kiss, your hands trailing down his body and palming his dick through his grey bottoms. he groaned, kissing you harder as you continued to stroke his growing hard-on through the material.

he pulled away and began kissing down your neck, leaving deep hickies as he went down, kissing all the way down your stomach till he got to the top of your lace thong.

he made eye contact with you as he placed a light kiss on your cover clit, watching as your mouth slightly dropped open. he pulled your panties down, stuffing them in his pocket whilst he rubbed on your clit with slow circles.

“you’re so fuckin’ wet for me right now angel. did you know that?” he asked, continuing with his agonisingly slow circles.

“mm fuck, eren, please—” you whined, your hands gripping his sheets.

“please what princess?” he teased, watching your body squirm under his touch.

you whined even louder. “fuck, i want more—” you cut yourself off with a shallow moan as he dipped his middle finger inside of you briefly before pulling it out.

“more what?” he teased.

you looked at him with round glossy eyes, “please eat me out.”

“that’s all you had to say princess,” he laughed, finally giving you what you wanted.

his tongue made contact with your clit and he licked eagerly, making his middle and ring finger stretch you out nicely.

“gotta make sure this pretty pussy is ready for my dick hm,” he mumbled on your clit, sucking on it roughly.

you babbled incoherent sentences, scratching as far as your hands could reach down his shoulders. your moans gradually increased in volume as his slender fingers worked your insides deliciously, finding that soft spot your own couldn’t reach with ease.

“f-fuck eren— feels so fuckin’ good,” you moaned gripping on his sheets harder.

just as you could feel your orgasm approaching, you could feel your phone vibrate beside you.

pieck was calling you, your thighs began to close but eren forced them back open. “answer it.”

“b-but—”

“i said answer it and be quiet.”

you looked at him before doing as he said, his fingers working harder than before.

“y/nnnn! where did you gooooo?” pieck shouted down the phone.

“i-i went with— mm-fuck, eren—” you struggled, pulling at eren’s hand.

“to do whatttt? you guys are missing the party” she yelled, giggling shortly after.

you struggled to hold back a moan as eren sucked more feverishly on your clit, “ ‘m s-sorry pie’, w-we’ll be — fuckfuck— we’ll be b-back soon.”

pieck stayed silent on the other side for a moment. “ohmygodyouanderenarefucking?!”

eren laughed, the vibrations on your clit causing you to let a loud whine slip past your mouth, one pieck definitely heard.

“OHMYGOD YOU ARE! GUYSGUYS EREN AND Y/N ARE—”

you hung up on her and threw your phone on the floor some where, focusing back on eren. “that is y-your fault.”

he pulled up and looked at you, the lower half of his face covered in your slick. “i told you to be quiet princess.”

you rolled your eyes as he continued finger fucking you, his tongue slipping to your hole every now and again.

a strange feeling built up in your stomach, making you push him away by his shoulders. “mm— eren wait, f-feels like ‘m gonna—”

his dick twitched at the thought of you squirting from him eating your pussy, so he pushed your hands away. “stop, let me finish.”

“no— eren—”

he grabbed your arms with his free hand and held them to your side, licking at your clit more needly as he could feel your cunt clenching around his fingers. “i got you princess.”

you moaned loudly and the clear liquid drenched your thighs and his sheets, eren’s fingers still working you through your orgasm.

“f-fuck, eren— please—” you moaned desperately, tears sliding down the side of your face as you tried to squeeze your thighs shut.

“give me one more, i know you can y/n,” he mumbled, pulling your thighs open as his fingers working faster, grazing your soft spot every time.

you shook your head, feeling your second orgasm approaching harder than the first one.

“fuckfuckfuck, eren please—” you came around his fingers a second time, moaning loudly.

“there you fucking go,” eren smirked, feeling your cunt squeeze him. he slipped his fingers out and kissed your clit gently before coming back up to kiss you.

“you okay princess?” he asked quietly, looking you in your eyes.

you nodded lazily, fucked out from the two orgasms he gave you. “ ‘m good.”

“good cause i’m not done with you yet,” he exhaled, kissing you again.

he pulled his bottoms down, revealing his white calvin klein boxers that hugged his straining dick.

“this is your fault,” he said mimicking the words you said to him earlier.

you ignored him and palmed at his dick, feeling it twitch under the contact. you pulled his boxers down and let it free, continuing to rub it bare.

“fuckk—” he groaned, “shit, let me get a condom—”

“i’m clean,” you interjected, “and on birth control.”

eren looked slightly taken back. “are you sure ?”

you nodded desperately, “i need you please—”

“well shit. i’m clean too don’t worry,” he reassured you.

you nodded and continued rubbing his dick.

he moaned lowly before grabbing your face, “open.”

you opened your mouth and he stuck his fingers down your throat, the same ones that had been inside you.

he pulled them out and rubbed them on his dick, mixing your spit and his pre-cum.

next time i’ll have to get head, he thinks to himself before lining his dick up with your cunt. you moan loudly as the tip slowly pushed past your pillowy walls, hugging eren tightly.

“shit—” eren cussed as he felt your nails dig into his bicep, “you’re never fuckin’ getting rid of me princess.”

he bottomed out, making you whimper. he stilled, allowing you to adjust to his length. he watched your face for any signs of discomfort before slowly moving in and out of your cunt.

“fuck eren— you feel- so good—” you babbled incoherently, clawing deep marks down his back.

he nodded, lifting your leg to put it over his shoulder to get a better angle. he increased his speed, rubbing at your clit, making you squeeze his cock.

his hips stuttered. “stop doing that, gonna make me cum.”

“i want you to cum in me though,” you said, looking at him through your lashes.

eren scoffed and went deeper, thanks to the angle his tip kept assaulting your sweet spot.

you whimpered, “fuck eren— gonna cum—”

“no you’re not. hold it,” he grunted, gripping your hips and pulling you down to meet his base.

“eren,” you whined.

his pacing slowed down, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he neared his high.

“fuck— princess, i’m gonna cum—” he muttered into your ankle, nibbling slightly.

you squeezed around him at the sensations. he let out a deep moan, his cum painting the insides of your pussy white.

you came as you felt him empty inside of you, digging a crescent shape into his back.

“f-fuck,” you mumbled, watching him pull his dick out.

you whined at the empty feeling, though eren chose to ignore it. “imma be back.”

he picked his boxers up from the floor and pulled them on, walking to his bathroom. he walked out with a warm cloth, gently wiping the insides of your thigh.

“is your back okay? i noticed all the scratches and some were kinda bleeding…” you said sympathetically.

“don’t worry about me, i’ve had worse,” he smiled.

when he finished he put it on his desk and walked back over to you, kissing you gently.

“you good princess?”

you nodded dazed, causing eren to chuckle. he pulled you up and helped you get dressed, allowing you to fix your makeup and hair.

when you left his bedroom the party was still full swing, people dancing and drinking.

“ayeee ! there they are,” porco called out, clapping eren on the back when he sat next to him.

you were about to walk off to sit with pieck and sasha when eren grabbed your hand and pulled you into his lap.

you looked at him confused when he muttered in your ear. “didn’t i tell you you’re never getting rid of me ?”

you were sure this time you were blushing, especially when he kissed the dark hickey on your neck.

“alright, we get it, you fucked, get a room,” sasha fake gagged, giggling after.

eren made eye contact with reiner. “she won’t be able to walk next time we get a room.”

[perfectsunlight]

VLOG MOMENTS FROM THE KIM VACATION

minjeong x reader (ft. jennie kim)

synopsis: the kim sisters go on their annual summer trip to hawaii, but this time around, y/n decides to bring her girlfriend, minjeong.

a/n: this is just an idea i had while writing something for my other series: the variable

THE FLIGHT

the video starts with y/n leaning against jennie’s shoulder in the backseat of a car. the blackpink member zooms in on her younger sister’s face, causing y/n to smile and hit the camera playfully.

jennie quickly turns the camera to herself and starts speaking. “we’re currently on our way to the airport, we’re going to be in hawaii for a week. are you excited?” she turns to her younger sister, who nods rapidly.

“y/n is taking her ‘friend’ with us this time, so she’s meeting us there at the airport.”  y/n’s lips curve into a small smile as she shakes her head at her sister’s remark and looks out the window. 

a quick cut shows y/n running up to another person in a hoodie. jennie chuckles lightly and zooms in on the two embracing. there’s a second cut and y/n is recording with her head against someone’s shoulder. “guess who's coming with us,” she says in a sing-song tone and shows the camera, revealing minjeong’s face. the aespa member smiles and waves, earning a chuckle from y/n behind the camera. “cute.” the younger kim whispers at the sight of her girlfriend. minjeong smiles sheepishly before jennie’s voice is heard in the background. 

“i’m sitting in between you two on the flight.”

SHOPPING IN HONOLULU

jennie points the camera at minjeong and laughs as she watches her carry several bags in her arms. “are you sure you can carry all of that?”

the blonde shakes her head quickly, looking over in the direction of where y/n appears to be somewhere off screen. the girls seem to be at a mall. “my arms are about to fall off. i think i need to get back to the gym.” minjeong jokes, earning a laugh from jennie. y/n comes into frame with two more bags in her hand shortly after.

jennie puts her little sister into the frame of the camera. “what did you buy?” she asked while minjeong can be seen adjusting the bags she was holding and stretching her arms.

y/n smiles and waves the bags playfully in front of the lens. “new bathing suits and a new charger because i forgot mine on the plane.” 

“i’ll hold them,” minjeong quickly says as she gently takes the bags out of the younger kim’s hands. the action causes the older kim to start laughing. jennie focuses the camera back onto herself and shakes her head as the trio began walking out of the store. before the clip ends, y/n and minjeong’s voices can be heard off frame.

“baby, you’re already holding everything, it’ll be too heavy.” “it’s nothing, now let me hold it.”

THE BEACH

y/n is seen filming this time, showing the scenery around her. she zooms in on jennie, who seems to be taking a small nap in the shade with her sunglasses on. “unnie deserves a good rest,” the younger kim whispers to the camera before it cuts to the next part, where she’s walking with minjeong as the sun sets behind them. 

minjeong waves to the camera quickly before pointing at the beautiful sunset behind them. “look how beautiful,” she gently takes the camera from y/n to show the sky better.

“more beautiful than me?” y/n says quickly as she jumps in front of the sm idol’s shot. both flustered and amused by the girl’s actions, all minjeong can do is chuckle. “midnight's album is out july 7th.”

“we’re on vacation and you’re promoting your group’s album?” minjeong teases as she gently shoves the other idol. “of course i am,” y/n replies with a smile. “i care about my stargazers.”

“do they know i’m the number one stargazer?” minjeong says quickly as she wraps an arm around y/n’s shoulder. the younger kim points the camera at the other girl again while laughing at her remark.

“you’re not, jennie is.”

THE HOTEL

jennie is seen in pajamas and laying in bed with the hotel tv on. “i’m so tired today, we decided to go snorkeling so we couldn’t film it.” the blackpink member snickered as she recalled an event from earlier that day.

“if you guys didn’t know, y/n doesn’t like snorkeling because the last time we went, a fish went up to her mouth.”

almost immediately, y/n’s voice is heard from off camera.

“jennie unnie,” she groans playfully before climbing into bed with her sister and laying on top of her. she was in a pj set exactly like jennie’s. “don’t expose me.”

jennie chuckles as y/n joins her in bed, wrapping her arms around her sister in a playful hug. “sorry, but it's too funny not to share,” jennie teases, affectionately tousling y/n's hair. 

y/n lets out a mock sigh, feigning annoyance. “i should tell everyone about your swimsuit incident,” she says, shooting jennie a mock glare before breaking into a grin.

jennie gasps dramatically, feigning shock. “you wouldn't dare!” she exclaims, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. the younger girl giggles, knowing she has the upper hand in this playful exchange. 

“oh, i think blinks would love to hear about the great swimsuit malfunction of 2024,” she teases, poking jennie's side. “so what happened was–”

before y/n could finish her sentence, her sister put her hand over her mouth. “we’ll see you in the morning,” she said loudly to the camera, struggling to keep her hand over the younger girl’s mouth. 

“goodnight!”

YACHT

“today we’re spending the afternoon on a boat,” y/n says as she leans against jennie’s shoulder. “minjeongie is taking pictures over there.” she points the camera towards the deck where the aespa member is taking pictures of herself. 

“i’m wearing a blue swimsuit today to match minjeong’s,” y/n takes the camera and shows a quick glimpse of her blue bikini. “yesterday we didn’t film it, but i was matching with jennie unnie at the other beach.”

a quick montage of the ocean, sky, and the trio taking pictures is shown before jennie is the only one in frame. she zooms in on the two younger idols who appear to be taking polaroids with each other.

“y/n always brings her polaroid everywhere,” jennie explains while the focus is still on the other two girls. “she’s always showing her pictures to lisa.”

suddenly, minjeong is seen leaning in very close to y/n’s face. “hey!” jennie shouts at the aespa member, causing her to immediately sit straight up and back away from y/n with her hands in the air. y/n rolls her eyes playfully and laughs at her sister’s antics. “she was moving something out of my face, unnie.”

“i’m sure she was.”

jennie said as she made her way over to the pair and sat in between them before waving goodbye to the camera with a blushing minjeong and a smiling y/n.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Motivation

(Part 2)

—

Time Written- 10:23 p.m.

I wrote this 3 times and gave up. Severely gave up

—

“Wakey Wakey, sweetheart.” His lightly exhausted tone nearly roused your eyes open.

A faint click of a bedside lamp invades the silence shortly before Jason shuffles out of bed, displaying a warm glow to your light sensitive vision.

A small groan falls from your mouth, your eyes shutting closed in irritation from the distraction of your comfort. His arms left their sanctuary around your waist, a kiss of warmth remaining along your tummy before he readjusted a soft, thin blanket over your tired body.

Jason was considerate enough to turn off his alarm nearly three minutes before it goes off, saving his special girl a few minutes of precious sleep. As the midsummer sun dies down behind fluffy clouds, golden rays of light reflecting off skyscraper glass into the dead of the night, Gotham’s wild crowds creep out from their crooked caverns to play.

“Hey mama. Sorry to ruin the fun, but I think my arm ran out of blood flow.”

“Do you need it?” Your faint, croaked rumble spews from your barely moving lips.

“I mean, I suppose I’ll need it to fight an’ aim guns at unlucky bastards. Guess that means you gotta lose the pillow.”

Another groan leaves your lips before reluctantly raising your head, setting his arm free from its prison. You spent a minute of quiet suffering before Jason’s fingers cupped your head, guiding you to raise it just enough to slip a fluffy pillow to settle your pretty brain on.

The A/C was on full blast, the blank noise lulling your tired minds to sleep around seven. While it was counterintuitive to be snuggling together in this hot summer heat, you wanted nothing more than to be in his company, comfortable in his safety.

Bare feet shuffling along hard foot floor shifts to heavy rubber soles as Jason gets dressed. Soft cotton and polyester drops to the ground, replaced with tactical fabrics and scrunching leather. A short sonnet of clicks and snaps follow as he adjusts his belt and holsters, getting everything comfortably situated on his person.

“You’re not angry with me, are ya?” He clicks his tongue, fighting off a smile at your lack of response.

“Earth to Goddess.” His calm voice invades your ears as the floor creaks, the dressed vigilante shuffling to his knees beside the bed, settling close to your face.

“Princess.” Jason lightly chimes, brushing your cheek with the back of his pointer finger.

He then proceeds his ever loving assault via planting various kisses along your face, ranging from your cheek up towards your forehead, back down to your nose.

“Babygirl.” He cooes against your sweet smelling hair.

“Do you have to go now?” Came your eventual, irritated whine.

He leans forward, mattress gently creaking as he pressed his lips just under your ear for a quick kiss. “Not yet. You got me for five more minutes.”

Jason settles his head on your collarbone, your nose slightly tickled from locks of soft, dark hair. His eyes are closed, but for once, they’re content with peacefulness. That, and the events that would come within the next month, changing their lives forever.

Jason’s smile widens as your fingers mindlessly trails random shapes along his open palm, your hands always lingering somewhere along his body.

“Y’know I’d give just about anything to get back in bed with you,” his armored chest rumbles with his lowly spoken words. “But, I’m a little big in this get up to be this close to you at the moment. Don’t wanna crush you.”

Those sudden words couldn’t help but make you smile, scoffing just a bit. Ever the doting, overly concerned, slightly overdramatized, loving man he is.

“I don’t know who’s bigger right now,” your exhaustion let you speak in ghostly whispers. “You, or me.”

“Well, you’re the pregnant one,” he says, fighting off a strong, snarky remark with an amused smirk. “So, you definitely take the win with that.”

The look you gave him the second your eyes snapped open made him chuckle, as if he willfully insulted you. The irony of it, considering he was around 6’4 and 250 pounds, a large percent being complete muscle mass while you carried a seven pound baby.

“Kidding, babe. Kidding,” he soothes, trailing a few fingers along your swollen tummy just over the blanket. “Just trying to joke off the nerves. Doesn’t help that it’s my first time…”

“It better be your first time,” you mutter under your breath.

“Yeah yeah, It is. Don’t worry.” Jason’s voice is soft, his cheeks turning a light shade of red at that, and he can’t help but smile as the two of them laugh quietly at her joke.

The weight of their child is a constant pressure on your body to create an incredible miracle. It’s certainly something new, he always wants to make sure his little mama is happy and healthy. Mostly happy.

He trails a finger down your stomach, pausing when he feels a faint thud near the round lower edge of his palm. For eight months teetering on the edge of nine, the baby was definitely getting active.

“Think your boy’s getting ready to fight those unlucky bastards with you.” You lightly chide with a small grin.

“Language, mama,” Jason retorts, flicking some wisps of hair away from your head. “Don’t want ‘em to hear those foul words. An’ I’m not in the market for sidekicks.”

You frown again, scoffing at his hypocrisy.

The surrealism was intense, affecting him from the center of his brain towards the tips of his hands and toes.

Your boy, his boy. His son.

“You two keep the bed warm for me.” Jason murmurs before pressing a few goodbye kisses along your cheek. “I’ll come back with breakfast when you wake up, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, consciousness struggling to remain afloat. It’s a silly mental image; the reaction of the owners of an early bird, go-to diner frantically scrambling out of shock and awe when Red Hood himself enters their establishment.

He stands from the floor, lovingly glancing down at his beautiful, pregnant woman cradled in bed, nestled with his pillow, perfectly content.

“Be safe,” you whisper to him, watching him reach towards the lamp to shut it off. The warmth of the vanished lap changing his eyes from a strong emerald green back towards a crisp, steel-cut teal.

“I love you.”

Your voice always sweetened the deal, a perfect lullaby once it was his turn to sleep.

The perfect motivation for him to look forward to every morning.

“Love you too, mama.”

[puck-luck]

Luke Hughes, clubs, 16 or 24 or 10

I chose #10 for this blurb because it was the least requested prompt for Luke :) @sidcrobsimp thank you for requesting <3

Warnings: edging, use of sex toys, overstim, soft!dom Luke WC: 820

Luke has a post-game ritual. Instead of going home, he comes to your apartment. Relatively early in your relationship, but after you’d given him a key to the apartment, he had caught you using your vibrator on yourself. His eyes had grown to the size of saucers and his pupils were blown out as he watched you hold the silicone toy to your clit and writhe against it.

After seeing how much it affected him, you started pleasuring yourself in front of Luke more often. He gets a kick out of telling you what to do exactly, although sometimes he likes to sit back and watch. 

Now, he’s come to expect it. When he comes over after playing his heart out, he wants to see you spread out on your bed with a buzzing sensation against your most sensitive parts. Today is no different.

Luke lets himself into your apartment and creeps down the hall, toeing off his shoes and losing his shirt along the way. He’s left in some joggers and his underwear, ready to drop those clothes as soon as he gets to the bedroom, grows abruptly hard, and feels confined by the fabric.

He can hear your little whimpers and gasps before he even enters the room. Before entering the room, Luke adjusts himself in his pants. He doesn’t want to look too excited yet, not when this has happened so many times before and he hasn’t even seen you.

When he pushes the door open, your legs are spread and your cunt is glistening. 

“Finally,” you groan, acknowledging Luke’s presence. You hit the button on the vibrator and Luke hears the pace increase. You slide the tip of the vibrator up your slit before settling it against your clit, where it was before.

“Don’t be greedy,” Luke says. “I didn’t tell you to go faster.”

“Is that what we’re doing today?” You ask breathlessly. “You want to be in charge?”

“Inside,” Luke tells you shortly. 

You’re quick to obey, filling yourself with the buzzing toy. 

“Fix the setting,” Luke adds, which you do. You know what he means– the constant vibration is fine when you’re tormenting your clit, but he prefers an intermittent pattern when you’re full. It keeps you on the edge for longer, teasing you the way Luke enjoys… because you’re always so whiny when you’re nearly there. “That’s my girl. Does it feel good? How long have you been playing with yourself?”

“Since your goal,” you inform him, your eyes fluttering shut. Your hips jerk up, trying to chase the pleasure of the toy inside of you. 

Luke’s eyebrows fly towards his hairline. He scored in the second period. You’ve been at this for more than an hour.

“Did you come?” He asks.

You shake your head. “Wanted to wait for you.”

Ugh. Luke loves you. He rids himself of his pants and underwear, joining you on the bed. He brings his hands to your tits, pinching your nipples. 

You arch up into his touch, moaning loudly. You turn your face towards Luke, tilting your chin up to invite him to kiss you. 

He doesn’t. He pinches your nipples again, getting the same reaction. Luke smirks. “So close already? I’ve barely even touched you.”

“I’ve been doing this for ages,” you explain, confirming the timeline that Luke had already assumed. 

“Poor baby,” Luke simpers sarcastically. “Hold it. I’ll tell you when you can come.”

“Luke,” you protest.

“You wanted to wait for me,” Luke reminds you. “So wait until I give you permission.”

With that, he dips his head and starts to kiss over your breasts. Luke sucks bruises onto the skin of your tits, which will be hidden underneath your clothes in the coming days. Still, Luke will know they’re there, and that’s enough. 

Your fingers find his curls, twisting them tightly as you try to distract yourself from the sensation. 

As his tongue finds your nipple, his fingers start to circle your clit. You jolt against him, and Luke nibbles at the pebbling peak of your tit to berate you for moving. He makes things even more difficult for you by suckling at your breast harshly, fingers pinching your clit playfully.

Although Luke meant to tease you, he had underestimated just how close you were. From the way you seize up and clench his hair, hips twitching helplessly and pressing into his touch, Luke knows that you’ve involuntarily disobeyed his command to hold it. 

He grins into your chest. Now, you have to make up for the misgiving– coming again at Luke’s command. He’ll make you hold back as much as you can before finally allowing you that relief, accomplishing his plan by bringing you right to the peak and then taking it all away. His mistake was continuing to touch you when you already said you were so close– but he doesn’t regret it. He doesn’t think you will, either.

[cultofdixon]

Matchmaker Grimes

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Carl Grimes’ Older Sister!Reader • Carl saw how close you and the archer were getting and thought he (with a little help from dad) he can get the two of you together • SFW/Smol Angst • TW: Anxiety

Requested by: Anon

“Y/N, mind doing me a favor?”

“If it’s something stupid I won’t do it Carl” Y/N scoffs in a playful manner to show her brother she wasn’t serious about turning down whatever it may be. Even if the silence wasn’t going to get her to do what he wants of her. “Dude. Spit it out”

“Shit, sorry. Mind checking the snares? Dad asked me to ask you”

“Then why did you phrase it in wanting me to do you a favor?”

“I panicked and forgot that dad asked me to ask you. I just remembered that it was him asking—-“

“You’re scrambling. But yeah I’ll go take care of it” Y/N shooed him away so that she could get ready in private, even if the blanket curtain for a cell door wasn’t enough privacy.

As the eldest Grimes sibling made her way outside the gates of the prison to check the snares for her father. She noticed the archer setting up new ones after re-setting up the old ones.

Daryl looked up when he heard a throat clear, finally noticing Y/N as he straightens up. “Uh. Rick asked me—-“

“Oh, funny. My dad asked me to do it…too” Y/N tried not to be so nervous around the archer when talking to him.

“I could use a hand though, so you’re perfect—-“ Daryl himself was nervous around the eldest Grimes sibling. “I-I mean it’s…perfect. You…you can help. Yeah”

While that was happening, Rick was currently on watch as he had a pair of binoculars checking the parameter from his tower and more specifically watching the two take care of the snares. They were getting quite a bit of game and while they were out they took care of a few walkers that threatened the fence.

“Anything?” Carl questions the moment he arrived as Rick handed the binoculars to his son.

“Yea know I can’t hear anything right?”

“No shit dad!”

“Language”

“Whatever. I just wanna know if they are talking to each other. I don’t gotta hear what they’re saying” Carl states looking into the binoculars checking on the two himself.

As Y/N finished setting up the last snare she noticed Daryl staring into the prison but more specifically the watch tower. She brought herself to stand beside him curious to what he was looking at.

“Why does your brother have binoculars?”

“Cuz he’s a weirdo. I don’t know” Y/N watching Carl put away the binoculars by shoving them into his dad’s side.

“It’d be weirder if he had one of those…uhhh…”

“A listening device? Aren’t they called bugs?”

“I was thinkin’ the microphone things cops had in old cop films. For spyin’” Daryl adjusted his crossbow on his back as Y/N crosses her arms watching her family scramble in the watchtower.

“I miss movies”

“Yea had a favorite film?”

“Guess” Y/N smiles at Daryl watching his expression soften while in thought.

“Were yea one of them twilight girls?”

“Ew no” She laughs at the guess as Daryl felt a twitch of a smile Grace his face when hearing her laugh. “Lori was obsessed with the books. But as for my favorite movie, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”

“Jim Carrey fan?”

“No, I just really enjoyed the film. I could probably recite it by heart I’ve seen it a lot” Y/N started to make her way back to the main gates with Daryl following shortly behind while carrying the catches the traps caught.

“Uhm…think yea could recite it to me like…sometime or whatever”

“Sure, after dinner?” Y/N’s smile he will take to memory. She watches him nod with a hint of his smile peaking out. “Cool”

The night came in and dinner was made with the rabbits they’ve caught in the snares. It was put into a stew with some of the vegetables they grew in the gardens. Some of the people were eating outside and some were inside…Carl found himself sitting outside at the table with his dad and baby sister with the Greenes and Rhees. He was watching Y/N talking to Carol at another table with Daryl sitting with them.

“Carl”

Carl quickly snapped back to the table he was at seeing a few laugh at his attention being elsewhere.

“Sorry what?”

“You gotta eat, son” Rick laughs a bit as he held Judith giving her a bottle. “We’re running out of formula”

“She should be able to start takin’ solids soon but in mush form. We do have carrots coming in” Hershel adds his input as he enjoys the dinner.

“Think we should have a run set up. Just a quick one to see if there’s anymore formula out there before weening her off”

“Glenn and I—-“

“Y/N and Daryl don’t have morning watch tomorrow. They can go on a quick run. I’ll go tell them” Carl quickly got up from his seat making his way over to their table.

Glenn couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him catching everyone’s attention at their picnic table. “Sorry sorry”

“What it’s cute that he’s trying to set them up” Beth was quick to add as that caught Rick’s attention instantly.

“Y’all know what he’s doing?”

“It’s obvious”

“And boy are those two oblivious” Maggie smiles at the two before turning back to her table failing to contain her laughter. “Glenn and I have tried before. But we honestly thought you’d have a problem with it”

“Or it’ll blow up in our faces because it’s the apocalypse and locking the two in an abandoned house can lead to a walker being shoved out a window” Glenn avoided eye contact as that would explain the time Y/N had to get stitches. “Ruined the mood”

“I don’t have a problem with it.“ Rick states setting the bottle down and getting up from his seat to take Judith inside. “I’d only have a problem if he hurts her”

A few hours passed and everyone was inside for the night, Daryl was getting off his watch about to light a cig when he noticed Y/N sitting alone outside. He quickly discarded the cigarette while making his way over to her in the fields.

“Hey”

Y/N looks up from her lap giving Daryl a tired smile before returning her attention onto the book she had in her lap.

“You okay?” He asks bringing himself to sit with her hearing a ‘Mhm’ as a response. “Mind if I sit with yea?”

“Not at all” she smiles watching him the best she could given the barely any light from the solar powered lantern she found from the last run.

Daryl brought himself close bringing his attention to the pictures she was fiddling with hidden in the pages.

“Who’s that?”

“My mom with Lori, then this one” Y/N handed one over to Daryl as he brought it more toward her lantern to get a look. “Carl and I when I was moving out”

“Yea look happy…how’d these manage to survive this long? If yea don’t mind me askin’”

“I know how to take care of my shit” Y/N laughs dryly being handed the photo back as she put it back in a small copy of Flowers for Algernon. No correlation, just know her dad or brother would pick up the book. “My coat has an inside pocket big enough to hold the book I keep them in. Only take it off to sleep so it’s always on me”

“Smart. Kinda like the vest I’ve got. It’ll stay intact as long as it’s with me.”

“The wings suit you by the way. Being a guardian angel of sorts” Y/N smiles listening to him scoff followed by a short lived chuckle. “Ever gonna trust someone to wear them? You do trust Carol to clean it”

“Eh she just showed me how to take care of it. To avoid the wings tearing off…but yeah I’ve got someone in mind, I’d trust to wear’em”

“Oh yeah?” Y/N smiles at the archer not getting an answer of who as the silence grew slightly between them before she took a risk bringing herself beside him resting her head on his shoulder. “They must be pretty special”

She is Daryl tensed at first contact but relaxed after a second watching her curl into his side.

The morning came and Y/N stepped out of the watchtower from taking over Maggie’s morning shift ending just in time to go on the quick run with Daryl. He sat on his bike listening to what they needed to look for from Rick as he brought his attention to Y/N approaching.

“So you know what to—-“

“Get. Now you get” Daryl gestures with his head for Rick to leave as he gave him a confused look before turning to his daughter coming over and left with an amused chuckle escaping him.

Daryl straightens up gripping onto the helmet in his hands as Y/N instantly beams at the archer.

“You look ready”

“Oh I—If you ain’t I can—“

“No I’m good. I’m ready” She continues to smile as Daryl handed her the helmet. “Now why do you have this for me but not yourself?”

“You’re sitting behind me, sunshine. Can’t have yea getting brain damage falling off”

“Hey this isn’t my first time riding yknow”

“Oh?” Daryl smirks bringing himself forward so that Y/N can hop on once she got her helmet secured. “Wouldn’t have pegged yea to be the rebellious type with a dad like that”

“Mm I got away with a lot” Y/N giggles to herself about to wrap her arms around Daryl when she turned back to find Rick looking at the two. “CAN YEA GET THE GATES OLD MAN?”

The archer couldn’t help himself by laughing at her words as his mind drew a blank instantly when she wrapped her arms around his torso.

“Old man really?” Rick comments with a bit of a snicker while passing to get the gate.

Soon the two were off and Carl brought himself to the gates once they closed.

“I’ve got a plan if this doesn’t work”

“I bet yea it will given it’s just them”

“Yeah well. I’m still gonna do my plan and it’s about tonight’s night shifts. Daryl is right after Y/N’s.”

“I’m listening” Rick started to walk back to the prison listening to his son’s plan, knowing part of it will probably not matter given these two being alone now?

Gives them enough time to say something

Or

Do something Daryl thought as he follows Y/N through a mini grocery watching her take everything that would benefit their group. Still keeping an eye out for what Rick asked Daryl to find.

“Hey uh Y/N I—-“

“I love you” Y/N blurted to Daryl as she was taking her own chances but when he didn’t respond right away, she decided to scramble and head further into the building. “Sorry!”

“Nah wait” Daryl quickly followed after her through the market as she always managed to get further ahead. “Y/N Damn it! Stop runnin’ from me please” he finally managed to cut her off as it led to her practically running into him.

“Shit sorry—“

“No I’m sorry, Y/N. Shit yea caught me off guard a moment ago—-“

“Yeah I get that and I totally get it if you don’t—-“

“Stop!” Daryl snapped, murmuring a few apologies when it caused her to flinch. He held her shoulders watching her eyes avoid his as he gently held her chin with his right hand making her look at him. “Yea caught me off guard. I-I was gonna say the same…just Uhm. Never thought you’d feel the same way”

“I…” Y/N exhaled a small laugh before bringing her hands to carefully hold his face. “I just wanted a moment alone with you to tell you and felt that something has been pushing me to this.”

“I felt that too” Daryl brought his hands to rest on her hips bringing her close. “I…fuck, you beat me to it earlier” he chuckles lightly smiling, simply enjoying her laugh and feeling her hands move to behind his neck. “But god I love yea. I love you so much”

“Kiss me then, Dixon” Y/N smiles as the archer didn’t hesitate to bring his lips against hers loving every part of her even more keeping her close.

“Yea think they’ve gotten into some trouble?” Rick asks Hershel as it’s been hours. What was supposed to be a quick run, turned into them being gone for hours.

“Are you worried about your daughter? She’s proven to be strong enough to care for herself, Rick. And Daryl’s with her.”

Rick continued to pace the gardens while Hershel kept the upkeep on their veggies being a listening ear to his friend’s concern.

“I should go out there”

“Yea shouldn’t. If they don’t surface tomorrow, then a few of us can go look for them.” Hershel grabbed some mulch from his bucket and started to place it in the soil when he brought his attention to the familiar roar of Daryl’s bike. “Don’t have to send a party out” he states watching Rick sprint over to the gates.

“The fuck happen to a quick ru—-Where’s my daughter, Dixon?” He only ever used Daryl’s last name when he was pissed and the conversation included Y/N.

“Are you blind?” Daryl scoffs bringing his bike to its usual spot as Rick quickly turns to the car coming through having Y/N in the drivers.

As the car pulls in and Y/N stepped out after parking it, Rick instantly grabbed her into a hug out of sudden anxiety for her safety as she awkwardly pats his back wanting him to stop.

“I didn’t die”

“You gotta stop saying that” Rick sighs pulling away and checking her for injuries as she gently pushes him back. “Sorry”

“You worry too much, old man. But look at what we brought back” Y/N gestures for him to check out their findings in the trunk and as she listens to Rick being grateful that they decided to stick outside the walls longer to get more of what they need, she looked over to Daryl seeing him crouched by his bike checking it out after the ride looking over to her.

The archer shot her a smile as she returned it followed by a wink before turning to her dad talking about the blankets they found and giving them to the kids they have at the prison. While all that happens, Carl who stood by the entrance to their cellblock from the outside, noticed their small exchange and quickly went to Daryl knowing his sister wouldn’t hear what he’s about to say.

“You break my sister’s heart and I end you” Carl suddenly stated to the man who gave him a confused look before he could fully take in what he said.

“I’ll never break your sister’s heart”

“You better. Cuz I’m fucking serious” Carl crosses his arms. “I will end you”

Daryl scoffs as he removes one of his knifes from their slot handing it to Carl and with his normal serious tone.

“If I ever, EVER, do wrong by your sister? You know exactly what to do with that”

And on that note Daryl went to help his girl and Rick with unloading the goods from the “new” car they brought. Carl stood there watching and fiddled with the knife in his hand. Knowing he’s never gonna have to use it.

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Autumn Break

Masterlist

The soft crunch of tires on gravel filled the air as Lando’s car rolled up the winding driveway of his family’s countryside estate. The sprawling stone cottage came into view, its warm lights glowing against the backdrop of an overcast autumn sky. The surrounding hills were painted in hues of orange and gold, leaves fluttering down with the breeze.

“This is it!” Lando announced with a grin, pulling the handbrake and hopping out. “Welcome to paradise, everyone.”

Franco was the first to step out, immediately stretching his arms. “Lando, mate, you’ve outdone yourself. This is incredible.”

Oscar followed, giving an approving nod. “I can see why you wanted to host. Feels like we’re in a painting.”

I slid out of the car last, my eyes trailing across the rolling fields. “It’s beautiful. Quiet, too.”

“Exactly the point,” Lando replied, clapping his hands. “No media, no fans, just us.”

Alex was the last to step out, his expression guarded as he adjusted his hoodie. His eyes flicked to me for a brief moment before quickly looking away. He’d been distant ever since the invite had been extended, and it wasn’t hard to guess why.

Lando caught the tension and quickly ushered everyone toward the house. “Let’s get inside and warm up. I’ll give you the grand tour.”

Inside, the estate was as cozy as I had imagined—stone walls, exposed wooden beams, and a massive fireplace crackling in the living room. The smell of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air, and a stack of blankets was already piled on the sofa.

As Lando launched into a detailed history of his family’s estate, I couldn’t help but notice Alex keeping his distance. He hovered near the back of the group, his arms crossed, his eyes scanning the room but never settling on me.

The awkwardness between us was palpable, but I decided to give him space. Franco, ever the entertainer, kept the mood light with his exaggerated reactions to Lando’s stories.

By the time dinner rolled around, everyone had settled into their respective corners of the house. Franco had claimed the spot by the fireplace, Oscar was engrossed in a book, and Lando was in the kitchen preparing snacks. I wandered outside for some fresh air, finding myself on a stone patio overlooking the garden. The quiet was comforting, a stark contrast to the chaos of the paddock.

“You okay?” Franco’s voice broke through my thoughts.

I turned to see him leaning against the doorframe, his easy smile reassuring.

“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile. “Just... taking it all in.”

He nodded knowingly. “It’s a lot, huh? Don’t let Alex get to you, by the way. He’s just cautious.”

“I get it,” I replied. “I just wish people would take the time to know me instead of believing everything they hear.”

“They will,” Franco said confidently. “Starting with us.”

The next morning, after a hearty breakfast, Lando proposed a hike to “explore the vast wilderness.”

“It’s a three-mile loop,” he explained, tying his boots. “Should take us a couple of hours if we don’t stop too much. Franco, try not to sprint ahead this time.”

Franco smirked, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “No promises.”

As the group set off, the crisp autumn air filled my lungs, and the sound of rustling leaves accompanied every step. Lando and Franco led the way, their laughter echoing through the trees as they debated the fastest route. Oscar stayed in the middle, occasionally chiming in, while I found myself at the back—again, next to Alex.

“Some view, huh?” I said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” Alex replied shortly, not meeting my gaze.

Deciding to keep things light, I continued, “I think Lando’s underestimating how bad Franco’s sense of direction is. We might end up doing double the distance.”

That earned a faint chuckle from Alex. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Encouraged, I pressed on. “Have you been on many of these trips with him?”

“A few,” he admitted. “Lando loves this kind of thing—getting everyone together, playing host.”

“And you?”

Alex hesitated, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. “I prefer to keep things simple.”

The trail eventually led to a small clearing at the top of a hill, offering a panoramic view of the countryside. Lando and Franco were already there, Franco snapping pictures while Lando struck ridiculous poses.

“Finally!” Franco called out as Alex and I arrived. “Took you long enough.”

“We weren’t the ones who got lost halfway up,” I shot back, earning a laugh from Oscar.

As everyone took a moment to catch their breath, Alex wandered to the edge of the clearing, his hands in his pockets. I hesitated before approaching, the silence between us growing heavier.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I said softly, standing beside Alex.

He nodded but didn’t respond.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to address the elephant in the room. “Look, Alex... I know you’ve probably heard a lot about me, and I can’t control what people say. But I’d appreciate it if you gave me a chance to prove who I really am.”

Alex’s jaw tightened, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “It’s not just the rumors. It’s... hard to trust people in this sport. Everyone’s looking out for themselves.”

“I get that,” I said, my tone as earnest as I could be. “But trust has to start somewhere, right?”

For a moment, Alex didn’t say anything. Then, finally, he looked at me, his expression softening. “Maybe.”

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

That evening, the group gathered in the living room for game night. Lando had pulled out a stack of board games and a console, insisting on a Mario Kart tournament.

“I’m warning you now,” Lando said, wagging a finger, “I’m undefeated on this track.”

“You’ve met your match,” I replied with a grin, grabbing a controller.

The games were chaotic and loud, with Franco yelling at the screen every time he crashed and Oscar quietly dominating round after round. Alex was surprisingly competitive, his focus laser-sharp as he maneuvered through the tracks.

When Alex and I were paired up for a doubles match, I couldn’t help but notice how the tension between us had eased. He even laughed when I accidentally sent a blue shell his way, shaking his head in mock exasperation.

By the end of the night, the room was filled with laughter and empty snack bags. As everyone started to drift off to bed, Alex lingered for a moment, his gaze meeting mine.

“You’re not bad at this,” he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“High praise from the great Alex Albon,” I teased, earning a quiet chuckle.

“Goodnight,” he said softly before heading upstairs.

“Goodnight,” I replied, feeling a small sense of accomplishment.

The next morning, I woke early and found Alex sitting on the patio, a steaming mug of coffee in his hands.

“Mind if I join?” I asked, holding up my own mug.

He gestured to the chair beside him. “Go ahead.”

The two of us sat in silence for a while, watching the sun rise over the hills. Finally, Alex spoke.

“You’re different from what I expected,” he admitted, his tone thoughtful.

“Is that a good thing?” I asked with a small smile.

He nodded. “Yeah, it is.”

The conversation that followed was easy, flowing naturally as Alex asked about my journey into racing and the challenges I’d faced. For the first time, he seemed genuinely interested, his walls starting to come down.

By the time the others woke up, I felt like I’d made real progress. And as Lando teased Alex about his newfound friendliness, I couldn’t help but smile.

For the first time, it felt like maybe, just maybe, Alex was starting to see me for who I truly was.

After breakfast, I found myself lounging on the couch, the warmth of the fireplace making it almost too comfortable to move. But an idea had been brewing in the back of my mind since the night before. I turned to the group, a sly smile creeping onto my face.

“You know what this place needs?” I asked.

“What’s that?” Lando replied, lounging dramatically in an armchair like he owned the place (which, technically, he did).

“Cookies,” I said simply.

Franco perked up immediately. “You mean the fresh, warm, melt-in-your-mouth kind?”

“The only kind,” I confirmed. “But we’re going to make them ourselves.”

“Uh-oh,” Lando said with mock concern. “Do we trust you in a kitchen?”

I shot him a playful glare. “I can bake, thank you very much. But it’s a team effort.”

Alex, sitting in the corner with a book, raised an eyebrow. “You really think we’re capable of that kind of coordination?”

“That’s half the fun,” I replied, already grabbing my jacket. “But first, we need supplies. Who’s coming with me to the store?”

The trip to the local store was far from calm. Lando insisted on driving, which was a mistake given his tendency to take every turn like it was a hairpin on a race track. Franco and I were crammed into the backseat, laughing as Oscar tried to argue with Lando about his “questionable” navigation skills.

The store itself was no better. Franco and Lando raced down the aisles with shopping baskets, grabbing random ingredients that definitely weren’t on my list.

“Why do we need gummy worms for cookies?” I asked, holding up the package Lando had thrown in.

“They’re for me,” he said with a grin, tossing another bag into the basket.

Alex, who had been surprisingly quiet, handed me a small bag of chocolate chips. “These are the good ones,” he said, his tone oddly serious.

“Noted,” I replied, smiling. “Thank you, cookie connoisseur.”

By the time we left, we had enough supplies to bake cookies for an army—or maybe just for Franco, given his appetite.

Back at the house, we divided into makeshift teams: Franco and Lando were on “mixing duty,” Alex and I handled measurements, and Oscar claimed the role of “quality control,” which mostly involved sneaking chocolate chips when he thought no one was looking.

“Why is this so sticky?” Franco asked, holding up a spatula covered in dough.

“Because you’re not mixing it right,” Lando replied, trying to wrestle the bowl from him.

“You’re not mixing it right!” Franco shot back, prompting an all-out tug-of-war over the bowl.

“Guys!” I intervened, laughing. “Just stir it gently. It’s cookie dough, not cement.”

Alex smirked from across the counter. “They’re hopeless.”

“And you’re not helping,” I teased, nudging him with my elbow. He shook his head, but I caught the faint smile on his face.

After what felt like an eternity—and a small flour fight initiated by Franco—we finally managed to get the dough onto baking sheets and into the oven.

As the cookies baked, the smell of chocolate and vanilla filled the kitchen. Lando set a timer and then plopped onto the couch, visibly exhausted from the “hard labor.”

“This better be worth it,” he said dramatically.

“Oh, it will be,” I assured him.

When the timer dinged, everyone crowded around as I carefully pulled the trays from the oven. The cookies were golden brown, the chocolate chips glistening.

“Moment of truth,” Franco announced, grabbing one before they’d even had a chance to cool. “Hot! Hot!” he yelped, tossing it between his hands.

“Patience, Franco,” Alex said, shaking his head.

But once the cookies had cooled enough to eat, the chaos turned to quiet as everyone took their first bite.

“These are... amazing,” Oscar said, his eyes wide.

“I told you,” I replied smugly.

Even Alex looked impressed. “Not bad,” he said, his voice light.

“High praise from the great Alex Albon,” I teased, earning a chuckle and a slap to the arm.

With the cookies devoured and the kitchen a mess, we all collapsed in the living room, full and content. Lando had a plate of extras balanced on his lap, and Franco was already eyeing them.

“This,” Franco declared, “needs to be a tradition.”

“I’m not cleaning next time,” Oscar said firmly, though his smile betrayed him.

Alex, sitting on the armrest of the couch, glanced at me. “You were right,” he said softly. “This was fun.”

“See? Told you baking isn’t so bad,” I replied.

For the rest of the evening, the house was filled with laughter, the smell of cookies lingering in the air. And as I looked around at my friends, I couldn’t help but feel grateful. These moments—messy, imperfect, and full of heart—were what made everything worth it.

[randybutternubber]

More goo kid and worker drawings for the like… one other person who remembers them. If you wanna see my first post and drawings of them plus HCs (they’re better than these I swear), you can go through the goo kid tag on my blog. And also one shadow kid snuck in

@mjrdm

I guess I’ll sprinkle in a few more HCS

In the third picture I basically just drew my idea of why the goo kid looks like a burnt up hairball covered in tar. They were chased by a worker(s) into part of the factory that had large vats of that weird goo liquid. The worker ended up attacking them, tearing one of their overall straps, and with no other choice, they took the plunge and proceeded to get lost in the sauce. Quite literally.

The goo isnt something that they can just wash off, especially since they kept putting it back on as a way to blend in with the workers. It’s kind of a part of them now.

The goo ended up blinding them in one eye when they initially fell into the vat

I guess warning for more dark HCs, although I feel like they all align with the darker content in LN

The goo is made up of whatever the workers don’t use from the body of a child, oil, tar, melted plastic and other things that you probably don’t want to be smeared on your body. After a worker kills a kid, they essentially strip their body for parts like fabric, metal or plastic from buttons, teeth, etc. basically any sort of material they can use. Most fabrics and other materials that the workers can’t use are sent up in a dumbwaiter to the chained lady so that she can hopefully find a use for them. Most of the organic parts of the kid can’t be used, so they burn them in a furnace that’s very similar to the one in the maw. It likely has a hand in powering the factory as well. The ash is then processed with some other materials to create the goo. This goo plus some other bullshit or something is how workers are made.

Something something pink sauce McDonald’s

If you actually look at the factory/stone giant as a whole, a lot of it doesn’t actually make sense or should work logically. There are a lot of machines that just shit out their products into god knows where and a lot of them are just needlessly complicated

The reason why goo kid adjusted so well to life in the factory is that they were taken to the nowhere at a relatively young age. The incident with the vat happened shortly after they arrived. They basically grew up among the workers, and while they aren’t really friendly towards them, they aren’t outright aggressive unless they mess with the machines. They probably see them as a defective worker or something.

All workers have mouths, but not all of them have permanently exposed teeth

Workers are VERY fast and able to react quickly, especially to light, but they do still sometimes get limbs torn off by the machine. All workers are ambidextrous, as in they do not have a dominant hand and can use both with an equal amount of skill, so they usually just use their other hand, but since they sometimes use two tools at once, they might use their mouth to carry it or tie it to whatever is left of their arm. The goo can stick to it, but they will usually tear off part of their overalls (most commonly the leg parts/cuffs which is why a lot of workers have torn short overalls) until it grows back.

Goo kid got most of their food from the upper levels of the stone giant- just eating whatever was thrown down into the trash

Workers do eat- but not for sustenance. They use their stomachs as just a place to store stuff. it’s mainly because not all of them have tool belts or pockets, so they might swallow down some nuts (don’t) or bolts or other small objects so they can regurgitate them while working.

Most workers start out decked in the same or very similar clothing (overalls, tool belt, hammer, wrench, etc) but they like to steal from each other, plus it’s a factory setting, and it’s very common for them to get their clothes ripped. Workers do occasionally get new clothing, and while they are somewhat of a hive mind, they do vary in personality, especially when away from others. Some workers also differ visually. They can have all different lengths of hair, unless it’s ridiculously long and gets stuck, which usually isn’t a problem though as the goo mats their hair. Different overalls are usually because the person who makes them, (chained lady or the really weird doll with the sewing machine) sometimes use different materials or different styles

Workers are highly flammable, but do not react if set on fire unless the fire is damaging a machine. Unlike shadow kids who are very scared of fire, workers really just don’t care. It doesn’t hurt them like light does.

Workers are a bit larger than most LN children, it’s just that goo kid is small because he’s younger/just short which might give the appearance in the images of them being a lot bigger

Goo kid wears worker’s overalls but they’re sinched since they’re quite short

Workers can climb on all fours on sheer drops while facing downwards since their feet can twist the other way, similar to a few kinds of cats who can also do this

[twilightdetectiveagency]

TWILIGHT HOUR 03:00 - KAPPA

The upper level of the Twilight Detective Agency is quiet and still when Vivienne wakes; not an unusual occurrence, but not a particularly normal one either.

Content warnings:

None. (Rare...)

She rubs her eyes as she pulls herself out of the large bed Cornelia had prepared for her before her arrival, her tastes noted like the back of Charon’s hand, the canopy draping brushes against her as she stands in front of the mirror on the wall across her bed.

She approaches it. The mirror reflects her room, but not Vivienne herself. She huffs and touches it with her fingers, “I guess it’ll be this way forever.” Despite being unable to see herself, she adjusts her hair and white lace nightgown as if she can, twirling in front of the mirror with a giggle as she peeks her head out of her bedroom. 

No Cornelia.

She steps out of her room and floats towards the kitchen; there’s a note on the table written in Cornelia’s signature ink, deep black with freckles of silver shimmer, like the expanse of a night sky. It reads, I’m out getting supplies for a new client’s case. I’ll be back shortly, so don’t run off because you got bored.

Vivienne rolls her eyes and sets the note back down on the table, “Workaholic,” She hums at the sight of the door to Cornelia’s room being cracked open just enough to peer inside. Looking left and looking right, she peeks in, and slowly takes a step past the threshold to the detective’s room. 

It smelled like her, and felt like her. The bed was the same size as Vivienne’s, although it wasn’t a canopy, and just had black sheets. The whole room was monochrome, the only colors the vast expanse of books on the shelves and an envelope sitting on her desk. 

Vivienne picks it up; she recognizes the seal. 

And she recognizes the sender’s name. 

Just as she’s about to consider opening the letter, a loud crash from downstairs makes her yelp and quickly flee Cornelia’s room, quietly closing the door behind her. Vivienne’s heart thunders in her chest as she strains her ears for the source of the noise; silence acts as barbed wire around her anxiety. After debating with herself, she makes up her mind and unties the choker’s bow around her neck.

She wraps her hand around her own neck and squeezes, just enough pressure to detach her head from her body. Her body steps back. She keeps it hovering by the top of the stairs as she floats her head down, peering all around the not-so-empty first floor. She doesn’t see anyone yet, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

Ectoplasm trails behind her as she stills in front of the bathroom door left ajar. She holds her breath as she stares in, and what she sees is horrifying enough to leave her biting down on her tongue to stifle a scream. 

Moss green, scaled flesh; webbed hands and feet, flesh emanating the scent of a flowing river with streaks of blood from dead fish and hungry bears. It was humanoid, but clearly not, with the large shell on its back bearing quite a few scars, revealing shamelessly its history—but what frightened Vivienne the most was the creature’s beak, like a turtle’s, sharp and pointed at the tip of it. 

The creature’s wide eyes look up from the flowing sink water rushing atop its hands, the presence behind it almost tangible on its reptilian skin. It turns its head, and through the doorway sees Vivienne’s decapitated head floating in place, the look of fear on both of their faces identical as the two of them scream in sync at the sight of the other. 

“Why don’t you have a head?!” The creature screams, frantic as it pulls its dripping hands close to the shell of its chest. 

“What’s a kappa doing in our bathroom?!” Vivienne replies. 

“Washing my hands! What’s a nukekubi doing in a place like this?!” 

“I live here!!” 

The door opens and shuts as Cornelia says, interrupting them both, as she steps beside Vivienne’s head. “What the hell are you even doing?” 

Vivienne’s body steps down the stairs, holding the choker in her hand. Cornelia sighs and motions her body closer, helping her assistant put her head back on. Vivienne pouts, “It’s good to ward off intruders.” 

Cornelia latches the choker and ties the ribbon into a bow as she sighs, “And clients. Speaking of,” She gestures to the kappa still in the bathroom. “This is our new client.”

“Huh,” Vivienne says, examining it with interest now that their fear had in tandem subsided. “I’ve never met a kappa before.”

The kappa studies her with equal interest, “And I’ve never met a nukekubi before, either.”

They stare into each other’s eyes as Cornelia stands between them and stares up at the ceiling while she muses to herself; she thinks of the odd friendship blooming in front of her eyes. It made very little sense, but she supposes that it doesn’t matter. “In any case, you might’ve noticed, but our client does have a very urgent problem.”

“I haven’t noticed anyth—” Vivienne stops short, her eyes going wide as she steps closer to their client, examining its water basin with a growing worried expression. “It’s cracked. That’s really bad, isn’t it?”

“The detective here said she could fix it,” The kappa explains, motioning towards Cornelia, who nods.

“And soon!” Vivienne says, gingerly examining the wound. “Can’t you die from that? Are you in any pain? It certainly doesn’t look good…” 

Cornelia shoots her a look, “Vivienne…”

“No, it’s alright,” The kappa says, “She’s right. If this doesn’t get fixed soon, I might die. It’s not like denial will get me anywhere.”

“That’s the spirit!” Vivienne replies, enthusiastically punching her fist up in the air. 

“It’s a spirit, alright,” Cornelia mutters to herself as she shakes her head. “I was doing some research to figure out what the best method for repairing the basin might be. Since it’s comparable to a human skull, I think our best chances would be to use something called bone cement; polymethylmethacrylate. It’s used in cranioplasties and other types of surgical fixes.” 

“What, like brain surgery?” Vivienne asks, not hiding her surprise. Cornelia can’t help but feel a little proud of her vast amount of knowledge.

“The very same.”

Vivienne tries not to look doubtful and fails, “Don’t you need, um, you know… like, a medical license to do something like that?”

“Oh, do you plan to report me to the yokai health department?” Cornelia asks, fiendishly as Vivienne fills her cheeks with air and sticks her tongue out. “Charon left a lot of medical and research textbooks behind for me, just in case.”

“Were they a doctor?” The kappa asks, making the grave mistake of being hopeful.

Cornelia coughs, “They… changed paths and decided to become an exorcist, instead.”

“They quit because it was too hard, didn’t they.” Vivienne asks, deadpan.

“No,” Cornelia insists, quick to jump to their defense, “That’s not why. They said that in terms of serving humanity, healing has a much lower tolerance for failure, so they… decided to… pursue…” She trails off.

“So…” The kappa starts, “They quit because it was too hard…”

“In any case,” Cornelia says, “While I get the polymethylmethacrylate ready, Vivienne, will you…” She trails off, eyebrows furrowing as if she hadn’t decided the end of her sentence when she’d started it.

Vivienne salutes, “Kill time until then? Got it!” She turns back to their client, “Not to brag, or anything, but I’m really good at doing that.” 

Although Cornelia isn’t entirely sure how she’s meant to respond to that, she simply nods, and says, “Thank you, Vivienne.” 

Vivienne doesn’t budge, a smile still resting on her lips. She extends her hand. Cornelia sighs, stares at the ceiling, reaches into her pocket and plucks a few bills from her wallet to hand to Vivienne. “Please be careful.”

She looks excitedly over at their client, “We’re going to hit the town.” 

As they walk down the streets, the kappa leans over to look at Vivienne, walking with a pep in her step. It asks, voice quiet as it looks around at all of the people around them, “Is this really okay?”

“Unless you aren’t feeling well and want to go back,” Vivienne says, “It’s long before Twilight Hour, so they won’t be able to notice you. They’d fall over if you pushed them, so don’t do that.” Her eyes whisper uncertainty, "Will you be okay with your water basin cracked?”

“As long as it doesn’t break and spill more than this.” 

“So no roller coasters. Got it.” She taps her finger against her chin, “There’s a bathtub upstairs, but Cornelia doesn’t let any clients upstairs. She’s got a lot of opinions on ‘work life balance’ for someone who insists we stay open twenty-four hours a day,” Vivienne waves her hand, “But that doesn’t mean we can’t get creative. It’s no river, but a miniature swimming pool has got to be worth something, right?”

“Oh…!” The kappa says, fervently nodding its head, careful to not spill anymore in its basin than it had already lost, “That’s a good idea. I’ve never thought of that,”

Vivienne clenches her fists, enthusiastic as she bounces down the street. As they pass shops and storefronts, food trucks and stalls, Vivienne pauses in the center of the sidewalk they’re headed down and looks all around her. “Something smells good.” 

The two of them follow the scent, and eventually stop in front of a small food truck, with a few people behind the window a man was sitting in. He waves at Vivienne when she approaches. “The menu’s right above you there. Let me know if you need help with anything, or have any questions.”

“Thank you!” Vivienne chirps, as she peruses the menu from a distance far enough they can quietly speak to one another without being heard. “What kind of things can you eat, anyways? I can really only eat human food during the day, but I can manage at night sometimes if I force it, or if I’m really hungry.”

“Well, as far as human foods,” It counts on its webbed fingers, bending them at the first joint, “Cucumber, eggplant, soba, pumpkin…” It shrugs. “A lot of the folks from these rivers like natto, but I can’t stand it.”

“Me either!” Vivienne says, with a gasp. “Neil likes it, but I really think she’s lying; every single time she eats it, she insists it’s good for you, whatever, but I’ve never once heard her say she’s eating it because it tastes good.”

“It tastes like some other things I eat,” the kappa jokes. It turns to see Vivienne’s expression; she isn’t making one. She turns her face away with a laugh. 

“Well, that happens, but this stand does have something you can eat, so let’s get some. I don’t know what I want to eat, though… meat sounds pretty nice. Well, it’s all on Cornelia, anyways.” 

The kappa watches as she casually orders. It steps by her side and speaks when the man at the window steps away for a moment, “How can they see you?”

Vivienne replies in a low voice only it can hear, “I never died in the typical way. My body’s still that of a human’s.” She adds, as an afterthought, “For the most part.”

“You don’t hate humans?” It asks.

Vivienne steps up to the window again to take their order. The yokai can’t see the face she’s making from this angle, but listens carefully for when she says, “A manageable amount. Thank you, it looks delicious!” She passes the take out container to it and opens her own. They eat as they walk. “What about you? Actually, this seems like a good time to ask. What happened to your basin to make it break?”

“I don’t hate humans,” The kappa starts, “But I don’t particularly like them, either. I know other kappa who do, or at least who feel inclined to hassle humans at every possible opportunity. And, of course, I know some others who found ones to pledge their loyalty too. It seems like a dime a dozen, if you ask me, when it comes to humans.” It punctates its words with a loud crunch of the cucumber salad Vivienne had ordered for it. “As for what happened…

“A cat came out from the dark, near where the river I’m from. It attacked me.” 

“It attacked you?” Vivienne asks, her voice colored with disbelief, she frowns, “Are you sure it wasn’t just scared?” 

“I’m starting to think that has to be the case. It might’ve heard my splashing and had no idea what it was. I’ve always had trouble with animals that were on the spiritually sensitive side…” 

“I know what you mean,” Vivienne sympathizes as she bites off a chunk of the barely cooked steak skewer she’s gnawing at, “Most dogs can’t stand being around me, or even worse, they try and use my limbs as some sort of battery powered chew toy! And it’s such a pain getting my limbs back afterwards, because then I have to wait for them to heal…” 

“They probably like it more because it’s organic.”

Vivienne nods, “But they cower in fear when Cornelia’s around, so I haven’t had that problem in a while.” 

“I wish I could talk to animals. It feels like this whole thing could’ve been avoided otherwise.” It polishes off the rest of the cucumbers. Vivienne claps a loose wrist onto its shoulder.

“It can’t be helped, right? Let’s get going and try to find the pool. Cornelia’s probably going to yell at us if we show up after she’s finished with her preparations.” 

“She’s quite the interesting character,” The kappa says as they continue to walk, “Although less strange than the other person I met last night.”

“Who?” Vivienne asks. 

“I think Detective Mori called it the Undertaker. It found me while on a walk. It was far from my understanding to riddle out what it might be. For a moment, I almost thought it was human.”

She shrugs, “I don’t know. The last time I asked Cornelia about it, she dodged the question. Maybe she didn’t know either?” 

The odd pair continue on their merry way, unfettered by the many eyes on Vivienne, a certainly not short woman in seasonally inappropriate heels and a white gown walking proudly through the streets. They stop in front of a pet store, and the kappa stills in the entryway, eyes going wide with shock and betrayal as it looks at Vivienne.

“What?” She asks, “It’s not like we’re going to sell you to the pet store. I remember, last time we came here to look at the hamsters, there was one of those inflatable dog pools in the corner somewhere. And it’s out of season, so maybe we’ll get it on sale!” She rubs her hands together, nefarious. 

The kappa enters the automatic doors, wordlessly threatening to leave Vivienne outside. With a yelp, she follows it in. The pair glance around and then back at each other. They both shrug, and Vivienne squints with her hand over her forehead like a visor, “Well, let’s keep an eye out on it. It’s one of those things that’s just shoved in a corner somewhere.”

“How common is that?” It asks.

“Excitedly more than you’re expecting.” Vivienne leads them both through the store, curiously wandering down aisles to peer in at the cages and badly kept-fish; the kappa clicks its beak, a sharp clink that rattled the glass. “That bad, huh?”

“Bad doesn’t even begin to explain it,” The kappa says with a sigh as they step out of the fish semi-rectangle and down an aisle they’ve gone through four times. It looks over at Vivienne, wide obsidian eyes like marbles staring owlishly at her, “Should we check again?”

“Maybe we should dig through the clearance aisle again. They could’ve put it in there by now,” Vivienne mumbles, peering at the shelves again. A blonde woman with equally tanned as sunburned skin passes down their aisle. She picks through a row of refrigerated dog food when Vivienne catches her eye, “Oh! Um, hi.” She giggles.

“Are you looking for something?” The woman asks. Her voice is as sweet as her face is; it has a distinct domestic corner to it, the kind of kindness that feels like freshly baked cookies. She smiles.

“Oh, um… do you know where to find those dog pools? Like the inflatable ones you can keep in your backyard?” Vivienne asks. The woman hums and leads them down to the dog beds and bends down to rifle through them with a thoughtful expression on her head. After a few moments and the crinkle of cardboard, she pulls out an inflatable pool with a damaged cardboard box, and a sale tag atop it. Vivienne beams, “This is perfect! Thank you!”

“Of course,” The woman nods, “Ah…” She glances towards another aisle and motions at them to stay where they are, and quickly returns with a reptile skin oil. “This might do you some good, too.”

Try as they might, Vivienne and the kappa miss the incredibly obvious, Vivienne chirping a thank you as they make their way to the register to pay for their things, and then with haste back to the Twilight Detective Agency.

“The chemical reaction starts as the two components meet, you know,” Cornelia says, as they walk in the door. “It’s good I figured you’d take a while, or else I would’ve just wasted—Vivienne, what is that?”

“A dog pool,” She answers. “I figured, it isn’t going to use our bath, and I’m sure it’ll be easier to do the cranioplastic like this!” 

“Cranioplasty,” Cornelia corrects, unable to help herself. She glances at what their client’s holding in its webbed hands, “And what’s that?” 

“Oh, it was a recommendation from a woman at the pet store!”

Cornelia face twitches. She sets down the spatula in her hand, and says, voice measured and slow, “And she suggested it because…?” She lets them finish the sentence, arms crossed over her chest as she waits for them to catch up.

“I suppose because it’d feel nice?” The kappa guesses. It seems to look forward to it, a small smile lurking on its beak. Cornelia sighs.

“A passerby in the pet store said to you,” She gestures at Vivienne, “Said that you,” she motions towards the client, “Might need oil for your skin. Please tell me you see the problem there.”

The two of them stare at Cornelia, back to each other, and then Cornelia again. Vivienne tilts her head as she asks, “What’s the matter, detec—” she trails off, her hand rising to her mouth as she gasps, and then giggles; an attempt at faux innocence. “Um… oops?”

Cornelia buries her head in her hands. “You said you met this woman in the pet store? Was there anything noteworthy about her?” 

“Is it something we should be worrying about?” Vivienne asks. Cornelia shakes her head.

“Probably not. But it would be a good idea to keep track of who can and can’t see spirits, so I’d like more details on her whenever you remember them.” 

“Roger that!” Vivienne says, as she artfully changes the subject. “In any case, we shouldn’t delay the treatment any longer! Our client here is so haggard, and it couldn’t possibly wait another second!” 

Cornelia shakes her head, “You’re full of it…”

They set the pool outside, and Vivienne inflates it and fills it with water while Cornelia prepares the polymethylmethacrylate. She empties the contents of a tube-shaped liquid into a bowl, and quickly empties a packet of powder into it. She mixes it in quick, firm strokes as she draws the spatula in and out of it, scraping the remnants of powder into the liquid as they merge together, closely examining it before huffing out a sigh. She tests it with the tip of her gloved hand.

When the green cement doesn’t adhere to her glove, she nods and presses the tip of her finger in it again, to check. Vivienne helps their client get steady in the pool as Cornelia kneads the cement, folding a circle in half, kneading, and folding it again until it no longer sticks to itself, the cement instead pulling open.

She furrows her eyebrows as she begins to scrape it into the gap between the cracks of the kappa’s basin. She fills in each splinter and gently runs the side of her spatula against it to smooth it out, level it to the rest of the basin atop its head. “I’m going to shape it now. It only takes ten minutes to harden after it’s applied, so you won’t need to wait too long. How are you feeling right now?” 

“I’m not sure, but I feel relaxed. It’s not the same sense of fear I felt before, the lingering knowledge that I was going to die.” Its eyes close, relaxed as Cornelia continues to work the cement into the cracks. 

“That sounds like good news to me,” Cornelia says, with a smile. She finishes quickly, scraping the remains of the cement against the paint palette she was pulling it from. She taps it against the palette, and a metallic clink makes both the kappa and Vivienne gasp with glee at the sound. “I think we’re done. Why don’t you try standing and carefully—carefully—see if it’ll spill. If it doesn’t, we can consider the procedure a success. Don’t go doing anything reckless, though. I’ll fix it if it happens again, but if it’s just a few days from now I’ll—”

“Wow,” The kappa breathes out as it stands, tilting its head to the side as a smile blooms on its beak. “Thank you,” It says, turning towards Cornelia as tears well in its eyes. “You saved my life. Thank you.” It bows, as low as it can, without disturbing the newly repaired basin on its head. 

Their client’s goodbye is tearful as it walks out into the sentence, waving frantically at a sniffling Vivienne. The kappa calls out, “I’ll see you again someday! Thank you for saving my life!”

“Come on, Vi,” Cornelia says, taking Vivienne by the arm, “Let’s go back inside.” 

Cornelia stirs to the sound of commotion outside. She sits up with her eyes closed and wanders to the kitchen window, curious as to what might be making such noise. She finds her answer when she finally opens her eyes to see Vivienne and their client from yesterday playing in the inflatable pool. It’s full of water and sliced cucumbers. 

Vivienne detaches her arm to gain advantage in their apparent water gun fight; she raises it well above the kappa’s reach and squirts it with water while giggling devilishly. Their once-client protests, clumsily clutching the water gun between its webbed fingers, “Mistress! That’s cheating!”

She throws her head back in laughter, “It’s my biological advantage!” As she’s about to fire another round of water at the kappa, her head turns and catches Cornelia’s eye. “Hi, Cornelia! Good morning.”

The kappa gives her an enthusiastic wave, water splashing a spluttering Vivienne as it does, “Good morning, master!” 

Cornelia snorts, and although it can’t hear her, says, “Master, huh? I don’t think I deserve that loyalty just yet.” But she gives them a small, sleepy wave and shortly thereafter joins them outside, insisting that she’s just checking on how the bone cement settled. 

And if they don’t believe her, well, they don’t say a word about it.

A blonde haired woman motions a stray cat closer as she softly clicks her tongue, shaking a bag of treats in her left hand, “Here, kitty-kitty… are you hungry? I’ve got some treaties for you—ah!” She flinches back when the cat kisses and lunges at her, just barely grazing her cheek. The front door swings open, and a man strides out to stand by the woman’s side.

“Are you alright, love? What happened?”

“I don’t know,” She says, looking back in the direction the cat fled in. She sadly shakes her head. “It must’ve been frightened. No cats should be outdoors,and especially not in this season. It’s only getting colder and colder, isn’t it… poor things.”

Although she doesn’t see it, the man narrows his eyes as he scrutinizes her. The color of her eyes, the shape of her ears; her pink lips and white teeth. Her hair was soft, and her eyes were warm, but…

“Come on. Let’s get back inside. It is getting cold.” He gently entwines their hands together and pulls her back inside to their warm home.

A cat pitters down the street, tail perked all the way up as it scales the side of a fence to walk atop. The setting sun cast the orange cat’s rays scattering across the expanse of trees nearby them; when the moon swallows the daylight, the cat slinks into the shadows and emerges no longer ochre but obsidian, a tremendously poofy tail flicking triumphantly behind it as it disappears into the night like any other cat.

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[colettebronte]

Presumptuous: Chapter 4

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Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: On your first night with Anthony you meet at the resort spa for a very special kind of late night massage

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: 18+ with warnings for sensual massage, wax play, vaginal fingering and frottage. Minors DNI. I will put this up on Ao3 so please do not repost my work elsewhere

Author’s Note: Apologies because this is the longest chapter yet, but then it’s a busy night for these two! Once again a HUGE thank you to @fayes-fics for her beta skills

Chapter 4: Night 1: Massage at Midnight

It’s close to midnight as you enter the lobby. Anthony sent instructions for you to collect an envelope from the Front Desk and then meet him at the spa. You approach the desk to see Michaela is there. 

Amused, you ask her, “Do you ever sleep?”

She smiles back, “I manage a solid hour or two a night.” At your shocked look she adds, “I’m joking, mostly. I’m just covering while the night clerk takes their lunch and then I’m off until tomorrow afternoon.”

You nod, relieved she gets some kind of break. “There should be an envelope waiting here for me,” you tell her.

Michaela gives you a knowing look, pulling it out from a drawer beside her. “There is. A handsome man left it for you a little while ago. He also asked me to give you directions to the spa, if you need them.”

You take the envelope, the heavy-weight cream paper the same as the one on the desk in your hotel suite. You run a careful finger over the resort’s logo embossed on the back. “Thank you, but there’s no need. I took a walk earlier to find it. I’m actually surprised the spa is still open at this hour.”

Michaela huffs a laugh. “It’s not. It’s also worth noting that, while there are cameras in the main area of the spa, there are none in any of the private treatment rooms.”

You shake your head, fighting a smile.  “That is very nice to hear. I’m honestly not sure how many more fictional children I can offer you.”

Michaela just laughs and makes a shooing motion with her hands. You need no further encouragement and head to the spa.

**********

Once at the spa entrance you find it mostly dark with just a faint light shining from within the wide, double glass doors, which are locked. There is a keycard reader next to the right door. You open the envelope to find a key card and note that simply reads: Come in and join me.

You hold the card up to the reader and then the light turns green and the doors pop open. Taking a breath, you enter, pulling the doors shut behind you. The lock engages again with a loud click.

The spa is understandably quiet at this late hour. Your eyes gradually adjust to the soft, flickering yellow light and the faint scent of lemongrass grows stronger as you slowly make your way down the hall to an open door, where a rustling sound comes from within.

You call out, “Anthony?”

The sound stops and he pokes his head out. “I’m nearly done setting up. I’ve left towels and a robe for you just there,” he pauses to gesture to a chair beside the door with his chin. “The changing room is beside it. Feel free to leave your clothes and purse in there, we’re totally alone. Once you’ve changed, please avail yourself of the sauna, which is three doors down to the left, I’ll join you shortly.”

A frisson of lust zings to your core. With a nod you take the robe and towels and quickly strip off your sandals, dress and panties, opting to wrap one of the large plush towels around your bare body. He's also left a pair of slippers in the changing room for you. Taking the robe and other towel with you, you make your way down back the hall. 

Placing the robe on a hook, you slide the glass door of the sauna open. Warm, steamy air puffs out before you slide it closed behind you, the aromatic scent of cedarwood filling your senses. You place the other towel down and get comfortable, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths, letting the warm air relax your muscles.

A few minutes later, the door opens and the air momentarily cools as Anthony enters. Your eyes still closed, you hear a tell-tale hiss as he adds water to the stones and a fresh burst of steam fills the room.

You open your eyes to see he’s also clad in just a towel, wrapped tightly around his hips. Even through the steam you can make out the musculature of his upper body as he sits beside you. Surely it’s illegal for a man to have that many abs.

He says nothing as you both lie back and enjoy both the sauna and each other’s company. You marvel at how easy it is to sit beside him and just be. You suppose it’s part of his job, setting people at ease. You give yourself a mental shake, resolving to not think of this experience as transactional as it really is, and to just let go and enjoy.

At Anthony’s insistence you had set up a throwaway email account so you could communicate what your plans for the night would be. He outlined what would happen tonight so that nothing would catch you unaware. You appreciate how thorough he is, double-checking that you were completely comfortable with the events that would unfold as the evening progressed. His attention to detail has you wondering why he is an Escort and not a CEO of a company. You laugh to yourself, supposing in a way he was. 

President and CEO of Anthony, No Last Name LLC.

After a while, the steam dies down and Anthony gently takes your hand, leaning in close. “We’ve nearly hit the limit of how long we should stay here. Are you ready to move to the massage room?”

You open your eyes and he’s right there, mere inches from your face. You can only nod and he gives you a gentle smile, standing. You expect him to offer you a hand up but instead he reaches down and picks you up. You squeal in surprise as he carries you, bridal style to the door. He uses a foot pull to slide open the door, doing the same to shut it behind you. The cool air of the hallway leaves a slight chill on your dewy skin, but Anthony pulls you in tighter, as if shielding you from it.

Entering the room he was preparing earlier, he gently places you down to sit on the massage table. You start to lie down but he stops you.

“Drink some water first, to replenish a bit of what you sweated out in the sauna.”

You notice a small table that holds a large candle, a variety of colored glass jars  and a pair of water bottles. Anthony cracks one open and hands it to you, taking the second for himself. 

After drinking your fill, he takes the water bottle and you lie down on your front, loosening your towel and then pulling it off your body, so it hangs down, draped over your sides, covering your back completely.

While you adjust your head in the face cradle, the lights dim and soft new-age music starts to play. You hear Anthony open the jars and then there’s a hiss sound and the scent of vanilla fills the air as you realize he’s lit the candle. Anthony pulls the towel down gently to expose your back but also keeps your lower half covered. You feel a warm, damp towel wiping over your back as Anthony begins to speak.

“You remember what we talked about in our emails, in regard to colors and consent?”

“Yes,” you say quietly. At his silence, you realize he wants you to affirm your discussion. “We talked about the stop light system and safe words. Green is everything is good, keep going. If either one of us says yellow, we can keep going, but slowly, with caution. If either one of us says ‘red’ or uses our safeword, we stop what we're doing immediately.

Anthony runs the warm towel over your shoulders. “Excellent. My safe word is Pall Mall and yours is . . . .”

You smile through the face cradle, unseen by Anthony. “My safe word is Presumptuous.”

Anthony laughs, dark and rich. “You really are something else.” The towel stops its movement along your back. “Now, are you ready to begin?”

You inhale a deep breath. “Yes. And it’s all green.”

Anthony runs a finger down your spine. “That is good to hear.” There is a quiet clinking sound as he takes something off the table. You try your best to relax, as you know what is about to come.

“Here we go,” Anthony says and it’s the last warning you get before something warm drips down onto your skin, falling in a line across your shoulders.

You hiss at the shock of the sudden warmth, not from pain. Before Anthony can ask, you assure him, “Green. It’s all green, please continue.” And then strong, sure fingers begin to work the vanilla-scented soy candle wax, which doubles as massage oil, into your skin.

His hands are nearly as warm as the wax. He drips another line down your spine and you barely feel the heat of the wax as the combined sensations of scent, sound and touch bring you into a deep state of relaxation.

After a few minutes of working on your back, he carefully drapes the towel over first one of your legs and then the other, using oil from what you assume are the jars as opposed to dripping wax over them. You groan as he presses into the bottom of your feet. You swear, no other masseuse has ever been this thorough. Anthony removes the towel altogether and then he’s dabbing massage oil onto your upper thighs and begins to work on your glutes, firm strokes running up and down the sides of your ass, far more professional than you’d prefer.

You’ve nearly made a deeply relaxed, you-shaped indent in the massage table when Anthony murmurs, “All right, it’s time to turn over now.

“I don’t wanna,” you mumble into the padding of the face cradle.

Anthony laughs. “It’ll be worth it, I promise. Please turn over and move down a bit so your head is fully on the table.”

With a grumble you roll over and scooch your body down a few inches. You open your eyes and as they adjust to the dim light, Anthony returns with another warm towel. You sigh softly as he runs it gently over your body, prepping it for more warm wax.

As your eyes adjust more to the light, you see that at some point, Anthony has taken off his towel and is now clad only in a pair of dark blue briefs, the ass he so proudly talked about the previous night, on display for your viewing pleasure. Of course he notices you staring and gives a little shimmy, which sets you off giggling.

Anthony runs the warm towel down your belly and over your labia and your laugh is replaced with a moan. He deliberately drags it up and down a few times, applying just the right amount of pressure to leave you gasping. He stops without warning, discarding the towel before you can even level a glare at him. He takes the candle off the small table.

Holding it carefully over your body he asks,  “Are you ready for more?”

“Always,” you breathe out, before adding, “Green. Please continue.”

He nods and then he’s dripping a line of wax down your chest, between your breasts, stopping just above your belly button.

You gasp, at the heat, which feels different on your front than it did on your back. It’s not painful, just slightly more concentrated. Anthony looks concerned but you assure him by gently reaching up to catch his wrist and saying, “Green.” Anthony takes your hand with his free one, entwining his fingers with yours, holding onto it as he places the candle down, and then he lets go and both his hands are on you, working the wax into your skin.

His fingers dip into the wax between your breasts and he expertly works the oil into each breast, strokes alternating between firm and light caresses. When he takes one of your nipples between his thumb and index finger, rolling it gently between them, you have to grip the sides of the table, trying to stop yourself from thrashing.

He does the same with your other breast and nipple, forcing you to throw your head back against the cushioned table, closing your eyes. His hands move off your chest and massages the line of wax left into the skin of your stomach. 

After a few moments you realize he’s purposely avoiding your sex. Instead he massages first your arms and fingers and then moves around your body to work on your legs, feet and toes.

Eyes still closed, you’re startled when you feel his warm breath against your cheek and his fingers begin to work under your head, into your neck and shoulders. Opening your eyes, you’re in awe at the look of intense concentration on his handsome face, his tongue poking out adorably as he works on a particularly stubborn knot.

“Good God woman, what do you do for a living to carry this much stress in your body,” he huffs out through gritted teeth.

You blow out a measured breath, gritting your own teeth at the pressure of his fingers working out said knot. “It’s been a stressful past few months, what can I say?”

He shakes his head and then he seems to be done, fingers coming away from your body as leans against the table and stares down at you, brown eyes intense. “Are you ready for your Happy Ending?” His voice is quiet, but still brings heat to your belly.

“The darkest shade of green there is,” you whisper back.

In a flash he’s standing and then striding over to the middle of the table, swinging one of his legs over the top and then his body is on top of yours, his face in line with yours. You realize he’s supporting his own weight with his forearms so he won’t crush you. You stare into each other’s eyes for a moment and then he runs two fingers down your cheek, across your lips and down your throat. 

He leans in further still and then his lips crash down upon yours and you’re both fighting for dominance in the kiss, tongues mingling, moving in and out of each other’s mouths. You’re not sure if there’s a clear winner between you, but just his mouth moving against yours feels like victory.

You gasp into his mouth as he shifts and then his fingers move down your chest, squeezing and tugging your breasts and nipples, just the right side of pleasure-pain.

He’s relentless as he at last moves his fingers down to rest against your folds, long, elegant fingers lightly tapping before dipping in. He presses the lower half of his body, still covered by his briefs against your lower half and the combined sensations of his fingers and fabric dragging against your skin has you pressing your head back against the table.

His mouth trails a line of kisses down your throat, stopping at the top of your breasts before moving back up again. You marvel at how he’s able to do all of these things at once so skillfully, with his mouth, fingers and cloth-covered cock all working various parts of your body at the same time.

He adds another two fingers, while still grinding up and down against your clit with his body and then he’s moaning loudly in time with you. Forcing your eyes open, you see his mouth is open, staring at you so you tug him down with both arms against his neck and then you're sharing the same breaths, eyes never leaving each other as his body arcs up and down against yours, your hands now rubbing up and down his back. Somehow through all this, your bodies find a rhythm, moving against each other seamlessly. 

It’s clear he’s deriving as much pleasure from all this as you are as you both begin to quicken your pace. Your body begins to move against his and as your orgasm builds and builds you can feel his cock twitching through his briefs.

At one point you gasp into his neck, “Do you want to take those off? He says nothing, just shaking his head, and drives his body even further against yours and then there’s no more discussion between you.

At some point his fingers go away, there’s no need for them, his cloth-covered erection more than doing the job. His breaths start coming in little gasps against your cheek and you realize, he’s just as close as you are. 

Before you can think too much, you shift and then you grab one of his hips and press into him, pulling him against your body with all your strength, and then you’re tumbling over the edge, throwing your head back against the table as your orgasm washes over you, the one from earlier in the day no match for this one’s intensity. A moment later, Anthony rears his head back and yells, and you can feel him pulsing inside his briefs.

Understandably, it takes you both a while to compose yourselves after that.

**********

The next morning, back in your hotel room  you awaken late, feeling a content kind of warmth all over your body. Still feeling a bit of post-orgasm bliss, you decide that a room service-delivered breakfast sounds like the best way to start your day..

Rolling over, you find a note on the spare pillow on your bed. In a familiar, elegant hand it reads: 

I hope you enjoyed our very thorough spa treatment last night. What say you to some dinner and dancing on the beach tonight? I’ll be in touch later today to work out the details - Anthony

taglist: @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @faye-tale @cosmiclove330 @abridgerton @fiction-is-life @kmc1989 @alexandrainlove @ietss @itsyagirlmeee @multi-fandom-lover7667 @turtle-cant-communicate @liliac-dreamer @queenofmean14 @syraxnyra @chelseyyouraverageluigi @jtheteenagewitch

[fanfoolishness]

Number 10 with your Ingellvar x Lucanis is calling out to my angst fueled mind, please!

You write so beautifully btw 🥰 and your rooks are GORGEOUS

Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy this one, it really got rather out of hand!

Prompt: a kiss out of desperation. Liesl Ingellvar isn’t sure what’s real, but Lucanis is there for her. Set very shortly post-game so full spoilers for the ending. Angst and hurt/comfort and feels, 1429 words of them! Enjoy :)

———

What’s Real

Gray mist swirled around her, settling clammy dew on her cheeks and hands. Beads of it slid down to gather at her chin. She wiped it away, unsettled.

Stone rose up out of the mist, half-recognized, messy sketches of the Grand Necropolis yawning before her. But this was not the Grand Necropolis she knew; though it was ever changing, ever mutable, it still always felt familiar in the sweet-musty scent of the grave, the preternatural stillness, the sense of vastness far beyond mortal ken. This place she was in now felt like a tarnished reflection, a pale imitation of what she knew. She traversed the wending trails in cautious confusion, feeling hemmed in. Constrained.

”This isn’t home,” Liesl muttered to herself. “It’s the Fade.”

But if it was the Fade, why did she feel so uneasy? She had long ago mastered herself and her dreams, and hungry spirits held no dominion over her: she knew who she was, and what she was about. There was nothing to fear here.

Except she knew better.

Varric’s voice came behind her, kind and caring, proud and warm. “Hey there, kid.”

”You’re gone now,” she whispered, blinking back sudden tears. “I let you go. I understand everything.”

”You sure about that?”

The fear choked her, made it hard to breathe. She couldn’t be back in Solas’ prison. She’d fought her way through. She’d been called home. But she couldn’t remember how she had escaped — if she had escaped — and cold dread staggered her heart. With a great effort she turned to face him.

Varric chuckled, shaking his head. He stood before her with an easy smile, Bianca on his back, hands on his hips. The mist billowed around him as his smile drooped. “I’m sorry, Rook. We messed up. We tried though, didn’t we? Wish I could write it all down.” He sounded so tired.

Then Varric shifted in the fog, his shape smaller, slighter. Familiar red hair blazed through the mist. Harding gave her a sad look.

“You’re here,” she said. “Gosh, I wish you weren’t. It’s not a nice place to be.”

”Harding, I’m sorry —“

Harding waved a gloved hand at her, shrugging. “You made a choice, and so did I. I knew that this was part of the deal! I think you did, too.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s so chilly here. No one told me it was going to be so cold.”

Liesl dashed away tears with the back of her hand. She wouldn’t cry. This wasn’t real. Was it?

Harding sighed. “I just wish my Ma was going to be all right. With all this, you know?”

“I’ll tell her how brave you were,” Liesl said fiercely.

Harding gave her a sad smile. “But how are you going to do that, Rook, when you’re trapped here?”

No. She had to get out. Had to escape. She turned and ran the other direction, nearly running into another figure.

It was Solas. Not the brash young warrior of the Crossroads, nor the wise tactician speaking into her mind. He was Wisdom made Pride, his eyes cold and sharp and calculating. The Dread Wolf drew nearer and even through the mist, she could see the bruises mottling his face, the mouthful of blood staining his teeth.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” Solas said, raising the lyrium dagger. Before she could arm herself or reach for her magic the dagger was beneath her chin, pressing against her pulse. “But the Veil falls now. It must.” He gave her a rueful smile. “I regret you will not see what will become.”

The dagger nicked her throat, and the world went blue, then white.

—

“Rook! Liesl! Wake up!” Hands on her shoulders, a voice in the dark, a shower of violet feathers. She blinked, shaking, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. Lucanis was beside her, candles flickering behind him, Spite’s wings gone once more. She knew this place. It was Varric’s room… no. It was the Lighthouse infirmary.

She scrambled up to a sitting position and stared at Lucanis for a long and terrible moment, her chest heaving. Was this real? Was this the prison? Would Lucanis vanish, just another trick? She clapped a hand to her throat, but there was no wound.

Her head throbbed. She buried her face in her hands, overwhelmed. The cot sank and shifted as Lucanis sat down beside her.

“Oh, Rook, Rook, Rook.” He murmured her name like a prayer, voice raw and cracking, and then his arms were around her. He pulled her in close, holding her tightly, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He was warm and solid.

She took a deep breath. He smelled of stale coffee and sweat, elfroot, a hint of injury. Injury. She — she remembered —

“We did it,” she mumbled. “Didn’t we?”

“We did,” Lucanis said softly, lifting his head. He brushed away the tears that had gathered at the corners of her eyes with the pad of his thumb. “We won. But you were hurt. Do you remember?”

The battle with Elgar’nan, a blow to the head, running on sheer willpower. Pleading with Solas with her head pounding, Lucanis holding her steady as the dizziness worsened. A flash of light as the Veil mended and stabilized. The others, some injured, but all alive. It was coming back to her in bits and pieces.

“I remember,” she said. “But I — I thought I —” She shivered, bowing her head. “I thought he’d trapped me again in the Fade. That he was going to tear the Veil down. I saw Solas — and Harding — Varric —“

She raised her head, looking over at the cot that still held Varric’s folded jacket, the shattered remnants of Bianca. He was still gone. It had only been a dream, not an echo, not a spirit, not a trap.

“I’m sorry. They’re gone. But you’re awake now,” Lucanis said. “You’re safe.”

But the fear still lingered. She pulled back from him and he reluctantly released her from the embrace. She turned her gaze from Varric’s bed — no, it had never been his bed — and stared into Lucanis’ worried face, seeing him more clearly now.

A large bruise stained one cheek. There was a bloodied split in his swollen lip. The shadows beneath his reddened eyes were deep and dark, and his hair was tangled, nearly snarled. Clearly he had not left her side since Minrathous or attended to his own injuries.

“Are you all right?” Liesl asked, resting her hand on his chest, against his rumpled waistcoat.

“Told him to rest. Heal. I would guard you. Wouldn’t listen!” Spite growled, a violet aura flickering around Lucanis’ body for an instant.

“He’s stubborn, that’s for sure,” Liesl agreed, almost smiling. Spite laughed.

Lucanis shook his head, the flicker of Spite dissipating once more. “I am fine,” he said. She touched the bruise on his cheek and he winced slightly. “Mostly fine. It’s of little concern. We were all more worried about you. Emmrich and Bellara did what they could, but there were many injured, and supplies were low. This?” He gestured to his face. “Is nothing.”

She nodded, her head aching with the motion, and grimaced. He brushed the hair back from her forehead, peering concernedly at her eyes.

“Rook, you should not be up yet. You must rest,” Lucanis said.

But if she rested, the Fade awaited her. Harding, Varric, they might be there again, the fears and griefs she’d barely had a chance to name before she’d had to return to the fight. She couldn’t face them, not yet.

Not alone.

“Tell me I’m here,” she breathed, desperate to believe him. “Please, Lucanis. Tell me I’m here.”

His dark eyes were too bright, glittering in the candlelight. “Oh, Liesl.” He stroked her hair, her cheek, and drew her into a shaky kiss. “You are here with me, I promise. I love you.”

She kissed him back, sinking against him until they lay entangled on the narrow cot, pressed tightly against each other. She could feel his hands, the rise of his chest, the jut of his hips, the way his legs fit in with hers. The way he fit with her.

“I believe you, Lucanis. I love you.” And she did, in a way that felt realer than real, a rich and deep love unbound by Fade or dream. She could feel him against her, smell the familiar scent of his hair and skin, hear his breathing. She knew he spoke the truth. She breathed deeply, safe in his arms.

I’m here. I’m here.

We’re here.

[theredofoctober]

MANNA- CHAPTER SIXTEEN: CHAMPAGNE

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, Daddy kink, suicidal ideation

Read after the cut

-

“Hannibal’s hosting a soirée tonight,” you say to Will as you stand lining your eyes with a black pencil before your bedroom mirror. “Did you know about it?”

Will sits in a nearby chair, looking at you from behind his glasses. Having come fresh from a lecture he has not quite shaken off the mask with which he conducts public business, working through a measure of whiskey clutched in one restless hand with an eagerness to cut through to comfort again.

You think of method actors unable to ease out of an accent learned and feel a tail of ice switch your shoulder blades.

This man you'd once thought a victim struck down and made wary of society. Now you see in this slow adjustment of self that while this is not entirely untrue, Will dresses himself in shying gestures so as to keep the world at a purposeful length from him.

You wonder if his spectacles are fitted with prescription lenses, or if they’re formed of ordinary glass. Perhaps his Virginian hermitage is equally constructed, as much to discourage him from seeking dangerous connections as to ward unexpected company from his doorstep.

This man suspires for touch, for love; through each exchange you sense the pull of it, and the ground-heel stubbornness of his restraint.

“Hannibal’s been organising some kind of event for weeks,” Will says, abruptly. “He does this, now and then.”

“Aren’t you coming?” you ask, pausing in your work to glance at his reflection.

Will laughs shortly, the sound scoured rough with scorn.

“It’s not really my scene. Champagne and social climbers— I’d rather stay home with my dogs.”

You envision Will in a sea of wriggling animals, the iron fortification of his false self come down in open laughter, and you see something in this obscure pretender to like beyond superficial things.

“I wish you were coming,” you say, and again Will laughs aloud.

“Don’t kiss my ass.”

“I’m serious. I need you. Hannibal says he wants me to go downstairs for a couple of hours tonight.”

“And what did you say?” asks Will, watching you finish the adornment of cosmetics with the interest of having never before witnessed the process in motion.

“I said, ‘no thanks, Dad,'" you admit. "But here I am, getting ready to go anyway. I figured I’ve pissed Hannibal off too much lately to turn him down. Did he tell you what I did?”

"He didn’t go into the details. All he said was that you stepped out of line, and that he had to do something about it.”

He sets his whiskey glass on the floor, an act that would likely have your older jailer cringing in pernickety affront.

“You insist on butting heads with Hannibal,” Will continues, “even when you don’t like where you end up. Or maybe you do.”

You whirl round, brandishing an indignant hand in his direction.

“I do not!”

Will takes off his glasses, his gaze beneath both cynical and toying. You recall his fingers investigating your arousal post-spanking and look away again, itching beneath three tiers of lavender and ebony lace.

“I’m not trying to embarrass you,” says Will. “I’m trying to figure you out.”

“Yeah, well,” you retort. “I’ll bet you’ve done that already. If you can get inside the Lover’s head then mine shouldn’t be a problem.”

Moth like, Will’s eyelids flutter towards the window’s fading light.

“What’s wrong?” you ask. “Still haven’t cracked the case?”

“Not yet. The investigation into the factories and the vendors using them is going way too slowly to be viable. Jack thinks the dolls were purchased years ago, likely under a false name. We can’t rely on that to find the killer. He planned this more than a decade in advance.

“At this point he’s either waiting for the perfect chance to abduct his true target or he’s lingering to enjoy the thought of her being afraid. It could be both. He’s a cruel lover.”

Will blinks, and his brows close together in a frown.

“You’re changing the subject, Little One.”

You jolt to hear the moniker in full, and now with an accusatory edge.

Twitching, you say, “Yeah, I am. ‘Cause it’s embarrassing.”

“Hannibal doesn’t think so.”

Shoving your makeup bag aside you round on Will again, unimpressed. There is something of his old jealousy under the amusement, the stirring of a sleeping and cantankerous god. His attraction to you still does not change that he seethes to think of you and Hannibal alone together, of the nights he and his friend had once committed only to the other.

Will ultimately relishes that you were degraded, a consolation in his displeasure.

He brings his chair towards you, eager to chase the conversation further with his proximity.

“Hannibal knows it’s embarrassing,” you say. “That’s kind of the point. You’re both so smug about this.”

Will reaches out to pull you gently into his lap.

“Maybe just a little," he says, and you squirm against him, suppressing the silt of disgust in learning to win him this way, for wanting the affirmation of his desire upright against you.

Will adjusts you to straddle his thigh instead, a knowing participant in your game.

You turn on his knee, putting your arms about his neck to look into his face, close enough to see your silhouette in the rock pools of blown pupils.

“Will,” you say. “Do you think Hannibal loves me?”

Will starts, all the humour absenting itself from him at once.

“Do you want him to?” he asks, quite incredulous.

You dither over your answer, which is no longer as distinct as it once was. Hannibal’s adoration is a statement of lasting security, yet to be the darling of a man willing to orchestrate a killing in the name of therapy is a thought like venom in the blood; should you concede you too will die in all but physical form.

Aloud, you only say, “I could ask you the same thing, Daddy. What if Hannibal felt that way about you? Would you like it?”

Before Will can confirm, deny, or deflect with some pithy comment your bedroom door opens, and the moment is knocked through like a stoned pane of glass.

“Sorry to be abrupt,” says Hannibal, mildly. “Staff will be arriving soon to help prepare for my guests. If you’re not staying, Will, then you may wish to make yourself scarce.”

The younger man rises from his seat with a haste that surely does not go unnoticed by the other.

“Sure,” says Will. “I’ve got papers to grade, anyway. I’ll try and make the time to visit tomorrow.”

Your captors exchange glances, Hannibal with his usual, unshielded ardour, Will with a curiosity that, in other circumstances, might amuse you. Somehow, in all of this, he had not consciously entertained a belief in Hannibal’s attraction to him.

Now, through your question, he considers it, but says nothing, taking leave of you both with his opinion on the matter an enigma.

*

Like an enchantress at her oriel you observe as the workforce arrives, shaking rain off their umbrellas at the front door. Some hours later the vision is repeated with the expensive and largely beautiful attendees of Hannibal’s party, some glancing up at the house and nudging one another as they notice you above.

You feel a lurch of anxiety to think that you are expected to go among them, to smile with saccharine manners and pretend to them that you’re no more than a patient to the venerated Dr Lecter.

All this, surrounded by canapés and flowing drinks that will tease and taunt with scents and flavour— your stomach bellows in anticipation of it, for though you’ve eaten it is, as ever, not enough.

It seems a fickle thing to find yourself so oppressed while living with a man that has offered to help you maim and slaughter another, and yet between the horrors of illness and this it is satiation that you fear the most.

Still, you fear Hannibal also, this creature in his costume of human flesh and pleasantries.

That he has not spoken of Leland or Amy in two days only underpins the intelligence of his evil, a thing that he can fold away into himself just as he likes. You’ve continued your act as daughter-wife only in that to display your horror of him openly will mark you as not of his ilk but as prey, a delicacy procured from the forest.

Thus, with effort you brush the pounding of your heart and the agony of the cane under the rug of memory and watch the glittering people under a marquee of rain clouds until they’ve all entered, leaving the night empty again.

You listen with one cheek to the floorboards to the clink of glasses and droning conversation below, the instruments of hired musicians at their haunting work.

Surely you will not meld easily with such company as seethes beneath, even gowned as you are in grey silk and lace from a fashion house few can afford. Your mouth will open, and you will reveal yourself clumsy-tongued and unsuited to their guild.

The terror of it has quite gnawed you through by the time Hannibal ascends from the soirée to collect you.

“Are you ready to meet my guests, Little One?” he asks, taking your clammy hand with its nails bitten down to their ends.

“Not really,” you mumble. “Not sure I’m one of them.”

Hannibal lifts your arm to kiss your inner wrist where a vein strums with lurching adrenaline.

“You’re beginning to resemble Will in your attitudes,” he says, his voice a vibration on your skin. “But I disagree. My friends and acquaintances will find you as charming as I do.”

There is an implicit and unworded warning not to embarrass him in the compliment, a flash in the peat dark of his eyes. Gulping thickly, you fasten yourself to Hannibal’s side as you take the stairs, poised to wince under the observation of the many gathered below.

Hannibal’s house is made a palace by their decoration, men in crisp suits and women in forests of jewellery stepping from room to room, their chatter like another kind of music. Servers go about with trays of extravagant food and champagne, and in one corner a band plays a rendition of some famous classical piece whose name you don’t recall.

Overwhelmed, you glance back up the stairwell, ushered on by Hannibal’s hand upon your arm.

“I understand your reservations,” he murmurs. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been in the presence of so many people at once.”

Yet is not the quantity that perturbs you, but the agony of inevitable comparison. You feel like some vast and bloated airship amidst the slenderness of so many of Hannibal’s peers. Placing a hand across your stomach you attempt an awkward smile as you’re introduced to each guest the doctor approaches, thinking of the front door—surely locked, now, or guarded—through which you’d take flight, had you the chance.

A familiar voice anchors you amidst your desperate thoughts.

“Well, now, look who it is.”

Turning, you gasp with delight.

“It’s nice to see you again, Jack,” you say, going eagerly forth to shake his outstretched hand. “I like your suit.”

Jack grins, holding out the arms of his jacket in a playful gesture.

“Why, thank you. I’ll have to tell Bella you said so. She bought it for me a few years back.”

Hannibal subtly brings you closer to his side, keen to intercept in case, as before, you attempt to communicate your struggle to Agent Crawford.

“Bella has excellent taste,” he says. “In suits, and in her companions.”

“You know she does, Doctor,” says Jack, and turns to peer into the crowd. “Hold on a moment. I’ve just seen Chilton over there. I’ll be back.”

As he wades through the throng you gaze after him, yearning to give chase. He, of all men present, you trust entirely with your safety, myopic though he is to the evil around him.

Steering you in the other direction, Hannibal says, “Perhaps you’d like to introduce yourself to my guests independently. It’s important for you to develop confidence in your social abilities.”

You start violently at the suggestion. To be left alone at this event is a risk that shrieks of Hannibal's deiform arrogance; they know, these guests, of your madness, the sympathetic injury that may well twist you against your caregiver.

The staff, too, are likely prepared, told you’ll lie to them or feign hysterics so as to be led away from this place by any that would believe in your performance.

Should you betray your attacker you would find yourself amongst enemies, yet it does not cross your mind even to attempt it.

For the first time you find Hannibal an ally: he has always regarded your weight with a neutral disinterest that even your disorder cannot twist into derision. The women that eye you up and down, however, reinforce that you are a failing thing to be judged, and so you read into even the most innocuous look a malice.

“Can’t I stay with you?” you ask tremulously. “I barely know anyone here.”

A little smile graces Hannibal’s lips, and he leans in to speak softly at your ear.

“We mustn’t provoke any more speculation about us through unorthodox proximity. Miss Lounds is likely no longer alone in thinking us lovers. For now we must suggest that we are not.”

“But—"

“Hush,” says Hannibal. “Be a good girl and do this for me.”

You think acutely of his mouth upon your cunt earlier that morning, taking you fresh from the shower against the bathroom wall as you’d bitten your fist against weak and hopeless cries. He had not hurt you, not threatened, merely knelt and pushed your leg over his shoulder, relying on your startled fear to keep you pliant.

He’d made you come with sensation like the taste of sparks, a sudden, pulling burst around him. You’d taken it like a morsel from his fingertips; a gift from him, making things up to you after your whipping, so that you can never think him only cruel.

This pressure now upon you to be grown: it is not mean for meanness’ sake. He desires evidence that you are capable of bearing his secrets without lapsing into betrayal, for only then will you be worthy of his love.

“Okay,” you say, at last, and Hannibal lets you go off in your silver dress like a piece of loose smoke whipped away by the wind.

You watch him through the crowd—sleekly handsome, and effortlessly entertaining—in defeat. He has worked to make you dependent on him, but you are ashamed of the success with which he’s so quickly achieved that very goal.

A woman attempts to speak to you, a gallery owner of the eccentric, elderly type; a young man, a scholar, comes at the other side of you with a question you don’t quite hear. Bewildered, you utter what vague answers you can summon at a whim and excuse yourself, cupping a hand at your eyes to blinker yourself against a passing tray of confections.

The lights, the noise, the bodies that press about you like a rising flock of pigeons disturbed on some night street— overcome by panic, you find yourself up against the stupid urge to weep.

Another server edges by you with a battalion of golden champagne glasses on a teetering plate. Thinking of the warmth of Will’s Irish coffees you take a glass in hand and look at it, paused only by the immediate calculation of figures wrapped about your brain like a band.

Seventy calories on top of the four hundred from this morning, then the three hundred of what you ate of dinner, the one hundred and eighty in fresh juice—

Guilty as a murderer you sip the champagne to its end, ducking out of Hannibal’s view as you take a second measure from another member of his staff. The day is already ruined beyond salvaging, you reason; whatever calories you drink no longer count.

As with the whiskey you feel yourself warm, adrift from the cutting mouth of your perpetual nerves. The vast rooms soften, taking on the glazed appearance of a gala in a dream. By the time you sneak your fourth glass it is almost easy to return a hundred curious smiles, to answer shallow questions with equal shallowness.

“Yes, it’s a beautiful house. Yes, I’m doing much better now that I’m here. Yes, Dr Lecter is awfully kind. Oh, Will’s really a great guy once you get to know him.”

Gradually you see the guests accept you as they might a quaint exotic pet, certainly not their equal, but pleasant enough to understand their host’s affection for. That he, the saint they fawn over, has forced his mouth upon your soaking cunt that very morning makes you laugh now that you’re drunk enough.

Such idiots this man pulls about him, art curators, literary critics, the blood of old money, all equally duped as you never were, not once. These friends of his know only a character he plays, fanatics following a myth.

In this, at least, you are superior, the child Antichrist groomed by devilish fathers for a coronation in evil.

Caught between this grim lucidity and a certain gloating you stumble into a red-headed woman in a Verdigris gown like copper made lovely by deep water. Muttering an embarrassed apology you turn away, stayed only by her small hand at your elbow.

“Well, hi,” she says. “I didn’t think Hannibal would let you out for this. I heard he keeps you under lock and key. I’m Freddie Lounds, by the way.”

Stupid with drink, you attempt to gather yourself in the face of this revelation.

“I know you!” you cry. “I’ve read your stuff. Some of it, anyway. And yeah, I was surprised he let me come, too.”

Your eyes meet Freddie’s, searching for the same thing she hopes of yours: an understanding between you. The union of a shared opinion.

“I take it you’re not thrilled to be under his care,” she says in a lowered voice. “I have my own professional opinions about Hannibal and Will Graham, and I’m not the only one. That’s partly the reason I came. I had a hunch I’d find some answers here.”

In bilious regret of the champagne you list against a nearby wall for support.

“Answers? What do you mean?”

Freddie leans in conspiratorially, blocking you from Hannibal’s sight should he glance in your direction.

“Not long ago I received an anonymous email from someone claiming to know you,” says Freddie. “They were hoping to secure an interview to set the record straight regarding a recent article published on the Tattle Crime website. I never turn down potential information, so I said I’d do it, but they never responded.”

She pauses, alert to the change in your expression.

“Last night a young woman was abducted in the same way all of the Lover’s victims were taken. My research seems to point to her being an old school friend of yours. I was wondering if you’d heard anything about her disappearance.”

Horror bowls you down as though from the uppermost step of a spiral staircase.

“What... what happened?” you stammer. “Please, I need to know.”

Freddie's eyes—the clever blue of a Collie bitch—cup your face in their keen hold.

“The victim was abducted from her home after opening her door to someone at around 11pm,” she says. “There was a struggle— furniture was overturned, and police say it’s likely the kidnapper sustained some kind of injury, although no blood was found at the scene. I imagine Will Graham performed one of his infamous recreations to figure that out.”

The room seems to rotate around you like hell’s carousel, sickening, searing.

“The victim,” you say. “What was her name?”

You know before Freddie speaks her answer, have known it from the moment you’d placed your hand upon Hannibal’s telephone, as though fate itself by psychic puppetry had directed your hand.

“It’s Amy Glass,” says Freddie, and she makes a hunting gesture, as though searching for an invisible notepad. “So can you confirm that she’s a friend of yours?”

Shaking your head, you jerk away from the wall, swerving out from under Freddie’s arm as she reaches out to you, her face almost soft with concern. She calls you back to her, but you are already striding across the room to the beast in his mortal attire, deaf to all but him.

“Hannibal!” you shrill above the music. “Hannibal, I need to talk to you!”

People turn, startled and intrigued, anticipating a spectacle, the lunatic girl in full bloom.

Hannibal glances about, rapidly assessing the danger you threaten. An emotional scene could sully his reputation, an indelible stain on his house.

Addressing you by name, he says, “What’s wrong? Has someone upset you?”

“Yes,” you say, through gritted teeth. “You.”

Hannibal’s eyes shift, finally interpreting the length of rage and terrified abjection unreeling within you.

“Come with me, then,” he says, quickly. “Let’s discuss this upstairs.”

Your mouth opens, and you imagine instigating a scandal, screaming of the abuse and other foulness invoked upon you.

Then you think again of flesh and killing and nod your head coldly, allowing Hannibal to guide you to your bedroom with a murmured excuse to his guests.

Once alone, he sits you down on the bed, his tight jaw easing as he feels the violence with which you shake at his light touch.

“Tell me what happened,” he says. “Tell me everything.”

Your fists squeeze as one in your lap.

“Amy is missing. Freddie Lounds told me. What did you do to my friend? Where did you take her?”

Hannibal’s visage changes subtly, the humanity in it retreating to reveal that other self, the stag of putrid dreams.

“I didn’t take Amy,” he says, flatly. “I assume Freddie informed you of the details of her abduction. Amy injured her attacker, and I don’t bear the mark. You saw nothing upon me this morning.”

Indeed you had not; his nude body, knelt between your legs, had been as fresh parchment, white and clear, but still he is no innocent.

“You must have told the Lover about her,” you insist. “Left some sign for him somewhere. You did this. I know you did. You did this to punish me, or to see how I’d react. Well, congrats, Dad. This is it. I hate you.”

Your breath rips in and out of your lungs like the proboscis of some terrible drill, and as you lean into Hannibal’s face you see your own spittle jump the air in the force of your emotion.

“If you let her die I’ll starve myself,” you say. “I’ll go on hunger strike. You can do anything you want to me, I don’t care. I’ll do it. I’ll kill myself.”

“I won’t let you,” says Hannibal, calmly.

“I’ll find a way. I’ll make you regret what you did.”

He shifts back from you a fraction, and you comprehend in that subtle motion that he believes it.

“You care so strongly for this old friend, then,” he says, simply.

“Yes. You feel the same way about Will. If Amy gets hurt or dies because of me— I couldn’t handle it. I can’t. I can’t. You know what the Lover does to people. How could you send her there? How could you do this?”

Your voice wavers, threatening sobs, and you curse yourself for your fragility, the little girl you cannot help but be. Hannibal finds a handkerchief and touches it to your face, his previous compassion returning, and with dismay you accept that while your anger will not move him entreating him as your father will.

“If you ever want me to trust you and your way of living then bring her back, Daddy,” you whisper. “Please, Daddy. Please. Please.”

Hannibal's head turns aside, examining you with a renewed interest.

“You believe me to be such a God as to be capable of this.”

“Yes. You can do anything you want to. You can help her. I know you can. If you don’t you’ll ruin everything you want with me and Will. This is all I’ll think about when I see your face.”

Your jailer doesn’t answer, only reaches out to take your sweat-damp dress down from your shoulders. On a repulsed and foolish instinct you slap his hands from you.

“I can do it myself.”

Hannibal snatches hold of your wrists, and for a moment you see him consider violence, his eyes blackly wild, like Will’s, as though absorbing his lover’s approach.

“I’m sure you can,” he says, at last, and he lets your hands fall, unharmed, into your lap. “Please stay in your room until my guests leave tonight. I wouldn’t like you to upset them or yourself any further.”

“What about Amy?” you ask. “Are you going to find her?”

Without answering Hannibal turns to re-join the party, pausing in the doorway to impart his final direction.

“Please don’t mention what has transpired to Will. He doesn’t know that you and Amy are still so closely connected, and so it should remain. Obey me and you’ll receive no punishment for disturbing the festivities. The fault lies with me for allowing you to encounter Freddie Lounds while unattended, after all.”

You want to scream after him, tear at his carefully ironed shirt collar and rend from him an answer to your request. But he only leaves you alone behind your locked door with thoughts of Amy cut apart to fit the body of a doll. Defiled, as you've frequently been.

[kindersurprisebacterium]

Sutures and Shootouts (Ghost/Reader)

CW: slow burn, gunshot wounds, stitches, ghost is afraid of needles, vaginal and anal fingering, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, reader is a medic

gender neutral AFAB reader

W/C: 6.3k

The propellers were deafening as we approached the drop ship. I grunted as I adjusted my grip on the backboard. Watching the medic in front of me for his cue, we pushed the board up the ramp and set it down on a gurney. I secured the belts into place as my partner began to reassess the patient. I glanced toward the ramp. Riley glanced around, his gun at his side as he pushed the button to activate the hydraulic doors. A loud bang sounded, Simon grunted, immediately grabbing at his shoulder. The doors shut soon after, dampening the noise of the propellers. 

“Ghost, let me see,” I said, taking a step forward.

“Patient is cyanotic. I need you to place an airway,” my partner said as he pushed medications into the patient's IV. He handed me a laryngoscope and an endotracheal tube. I quickly maneuvered the scope into the mouth of the patient, slipping past the uvula and down to the epiglottis. I pushed the scope into the small muscle to make way for the tube. I slowly slid the airway past the larynx and into the trachea. I taped the end of the airway in place and positioned a mask over the patient's face. 

“You’re on bag duty,” I said to my partner as I moved, letting him take over on ventilations. My gaze flicked across the room and landed on Ghost. He was sitting on one of the bench seats, slumped over. His eyes were narrowed and his furrowed brows could be seen even through his mask. His hand was clasped tightly over his shoulder. 

“Let me see,” I said as I approached him. He shook his head, looking away toward the doors. 

“I’m fine,” he grunted. I stepped closer, reaching out to push his gear off. “I said I’m fine,” He pulled away quickly. 

“I’ll get fired if I don’t check this out, and I’m not letting a stubborn asshole take my job,” I told him as I pulled his vest off. He winced, pulling away from me. I set the vest down next to him and reached for his hoodie. 

“‘S fine,” he grunted, tugging on his sleeve. He sharply inhaled through his teeth as he attempted to tug the fabric off of his injured arm. I stuck my hand out, placing it on top of his. I slipped my other hand underneath his shirt, holding his bicep still as I pushed his forearm out of the sleeve. He held his breath as I tugged the fabric over his head. My eyes trailed to his body, old scars littered his toned abdomen. Bringing my eyes up toward the bleeding, I gazed upon a jagged, linear laceration across his shoulder. The bullet had just grazed him, but still hit some surface-level veins. I pulled a four-by-four from my pocket, pulled open the pack, and placed the cloth over his shoulder. Taking a seat, I pressed firmly into the wound to control the bleeding. 

“It just grazed you. You’ll be good after a couple stitches.” I explained. I parted my fingers, watching for any blood stains through the gauze. Patches of dark red blood slowly sank into the fabric. I pulled out another gauze, ripped it open with my teeth, and placed it on top of the soiled one. 

“You feeling okay, Lieutenant?” I asked, holding his unaffected shoulder for counterpressure. 

“I’m fine,” he said shortly.

“You’re lucky it didn’t hit your other arm. I’d hate for your sleeve to get messed up,” I said with a smile as I looked up at Simon. His brown eyes flicked across my face, narrowing quickly, and then darting away. I felt my heartbeat quicken. My lips quivered as regret washed over me. I shouldn’t have said anything. In an attempt to get my mind off of the tension, I checked the gauze for any signs of bleeding through. The cloth was still a pristine white. Taking my hand off his unaffected shoulder, I pulled a roll of curlex from my pocket and began wrapping it around the dressings. I secured everything in place with a quick knot, knowing I’d be stitching him back up at the base. I stood up, returning to the apenic Patient to take another quick set of vitals.

The loud hum of the engines dimmed as the aircraft landed back at base. The hydraulics squealed as the doors opened. A flood of medical personnel ran toward the gurney, and in an instant, they were running toward the operating room. I glanced back at Simon as he stood. He picked up his vest from the bench seat and slung it over his good shoulder. 

“Let me stitch you up,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest “Please.”

He sighed and nodded, following behind me. I walked toward the medical bay. There was a mess of scrapped sterile packets and gauze. Peering in toward the equipment, I sighed, opting to use my office instead. I nodded my head toward the end of the hall. Riley merely huffed in response. We approached the door. My name was engraved into a bronze plaque on the exterior. I slid my key into the lock and pushed the door open, flicking on the lights with my free hand. I gestured toward the examination table, stepping aside to let Riley in. He dropped his vest on my desk and took a seat on the table. I grabbed a suture kit and a topical anesthetic from an overhead cabinet. I pulled the cap off of the needle as I approached the table. Turning the vial of anesthetic upside down, I slowly drew back a dose. I perched the needle between my fingers as I cleaned his shoulder with an alcohol pad. He winced, biting down on his mask. 

“You can take that off if you want,” I mumbled as I inserted the needle into his skin. His skin, what was visible at least, turned pale. His eyes glazed over. I slipped my fingers under his mask, pulling it off. I’d seen his face before. Sharp nose, the scars that marked his cheeks, and his defined jawline. Sweat began to drip down his forehead. I held the alcohol pad under his nose. His eyelids fluttered, brown eyes locking onto me. 

“You okay Lieutenant? You almost passed out on me.” I said as I withdrew the needle. The lid of my sharps bin clattered as I pushed the used needle through. 

“I’m not good with needles,” he huffed, wiping the sweat from his forehead. I pursed my lips, stifling a laugh. “What,” He Said, cocking an eyebrow. 

“Sorry I just think it’s a bit amusing,” I said with a smile as I sunk my suture needle into his arm. He turned to look at the injury, I quickly pushed his face away with my gloved hand. “Stop looking, I don’t want you to go out again,” I told him as I tied my first stitch. I sunk my needle into his skin, applying just enough tension to get the edges of the wound to close. He looked around my office, brown eyes squinting at the pictures tacked to my corkboard. I followed his gaze as I finished up the second stitch. His eyes were set on a picture of me and my cousin. 

“That your man?” He asked, pointing at the picture. 

“Cousin,” I said, catching his gaze as he glanced at me in his peripherals. “Him and my brother are the only ones I’ve got waiting for me at home,” I continued as I finished up a third. The edges of the wound were closing nicely. The tension wasn’t too tight on his pale skin. “What about you? Got anyone waiting on you?” I asked, piercing through his skin again. 

“Not really,” He Said softly, looking away at the wall. I clenched my jaw, knowing I’d overstepped once again. I secured the stitch in silence, opting to focus on my work instead of the man sitting before me. Peering up quickly through my lashes, I noticed him staring at me as I worked.  My gaze shot back down to my work. Heat rose in my cheeks as my now trembling fingers worked to put one last stitch in place. My fingers slipped as I attempted to secure the stitch. Sighing and grabbing the thread again, I tied it in place. I grabbed some sterile dressings and secured them over the wound with tape. 

“Um, you can come see me in five days or so. I’ll take them out for you.” I said as I took off my gloves. “Try not to move your arm a whole lot. I don’t want you to pop your stitches.”

Without another word he stood up, locking eyes with me one last time before leaving my office. As soon as the door shut, I turned around, sinking into my desk chair with a sigh. 

I had feelings for him, didn’t I?

-

“And can you push your feet against my hands,” I said to the soldier as I pushed my hands against the balls of his feet. He pushed back against my hands with significant force. I pulled back, tugging off my gloves and discarding them in the trash. 

“I’m not qualified to say what it is for sure, but your vitals and your examination results are normal,” I explained. “If anything gets worse, feel free to stop by and I’ll make sure that a physician can see you.”

The man stood up and left my office. I brought my focus back to my patient paperwork. A stack of unfinished patient care reports adorned my desk. I took a seat in front of the stacks of papers, sighing as I skimmed across the forms. 

“Ahem,” a deep voice said quietly, snapping me from my thoughts. I snapped my head toward the door, locking eyes with a familiar masked face. He was holding a dressing to his arm. The sleeve of his shirt bunched up around his shoulder. 

“Ghost, is everything okay?” I asked, standing up. His brown eyes flicked across the room, and then back to me. Tapping his fingers against his arm, he stepped forward, pulling back the gauze to reveal a broken stitch. 

“Got a bit rough while training some new recruits. Figured you can patch me back up,” he explained. I reached out, gently brushing my fingers against his bicep as I examined the stitches. One of the sutures in the middle of the wound had opened up. I nodded as I reached for a pair of vinyl gloves. With my other hand, I pushed him towards the table. 

“Sit down then. I’ll place another,” I told him as I reached for a kit. I brought the needle and thread over to the examination table, setting them on a tray with a soft thud. I pulled a vial of topical anesthetic from a drawer and drew it up into a needle. I stole glances at him as I cleaned the site with a prep pad. His brown eyes flicked up and down my face. I felt a noticeable heat rise to my cheeks as I injected the anesthetic into his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling deeply as I pushed down on the plunger. I gently rubbed over the skin as I withdrew the needle. 

“You feeling okay?” I asked, squeezing his bicep lightly. He silently nodded with his eyes still closed. “Do you want to take the mask off? If you’re about to pass out I think it would be a good idea,” I added. With his unaffected arm, he reached up and pushed the mask up over his nose. His lips were parted and he was breathing heavily. I quickly placed another suture in place so I could shift my focus to his breathing. As I moved in closer I noticed his skin was growing pale and clammy. I grabbed one of the patient care reports and began using it to fan him off. I grabbed his wrist to quickly check for a pulse. It was elevated but strong against my fingers. Slowly his color began to return and the drops of sweat dripping down from his mask began to evaporate. I sighed, placing the now bloodied care report back on top of the pile. 

“Do you want some water?” I asked as I peeled my gloves off. 

“Yeah, sorry,” he mumbled. I turned away, approaching the mini fridge behind my desk. A wave of cool are hit my skin as I opened the door. I pulled out a bottle of water for Simon and a juice box for me. Leaning against my desk, I held out the bottle for him. He grabbed it with a small nod. 

“Just stay here for a bit until you’re ready to stand up,” I told him as I took a sip of my juice. He shifted his weight onto one of his hips and reached into his back pocket. He pulled out a small red package and held it out to me. I glanced down at the packet and back up to his face. In his hand was a pouch of Skittles. It wasn’t something you’d regularly come across on base, and it also happened to be my favorite candy. The corners of my lips curled up into a smile as I accepted his gift. 

“How did you know these were my favorites?” I asked, setting the candy down on my desk. 

“I asked your partner. I mean’ it to be a sort of apology gift,” he explained while taking a small sip of water. 

“Apology for what?” I asked, tapping my fingers against the mahogany wood of my desk. Simon looked away, pursing his lips, and then parting them to speak. 

“I felt like I might’ve been a little bit of an arse to you. You were only doin’ your job.” 

My eyes widened. I didn’t expect someone of his rank to be so thoughtful, even going out of his way to find out my favorite candy. Thinking back to the pushback he gave me on the ship, it was minimal, and most likely fueled by the heightened emotions at the time. I leaned forward, placing my hand on his wrist. 

“You’re the one who usually gives orders. I can imagine it felt a bit weird to take them, especially from someone like me.” I said with a smile. In comparison to patients of mine who have spat at me and hit me, snarky comments and mild resistance are something I’d take any day. 

“And what do you mean by that, dear?” He asked, taking another sip of water. My heart stopped at the name he'd given me. I looked away abruptly as I felt another wave of heat ignite in my cheeks. 

“I don’t know,” I sputtered out quickly, taking my hand off of his arm. He huffed with a smile as he took another sip from his drink. He sat up, sliding off of the table with a thud as his boots hit the linoleum. I rushed to his side, holding my hands out in case his steps grew unsteady. 

“Take it easy lieutenant, these tiles don’t need any more blood on them.” My fingers brushed against his back as I followed him to the door. He twisted the knob and pulled it open.

“You know, you blush like you're still in primary school, dear,” he said with a smirk as he left. My paces halted to a dead stop as I felt my knees grow weak. I watched as he turned down the hallway and then quickly shut the door. I fell back against the frame, sinking to the ground as I drowned in embarrassment.

Eventually, after gaining the strength to stand, I moved to my desk, examining the tower of paperwork in front of me. 

“Simon fuckin’ Riley,” I mumbled to myself as I shook my head. “You’ll be the death of me, won’t you.”

-

For the next few days, I made myself scarce, leaving the brunt of the cases to my partner, much to his chagrin. I made excuse after excuse. I was overloaded with paperwork. I was burnt out. Patients had specifically asked for him. One of our EMTs needed help studying for an upcoming assessment. A patient requested to be assessed in my office instead of the bay. No lie I told could stop the barrage of pounding on my door. I stood up from my desk and quickly scattered some instruments in an attempt to make myself busy. Pulling the door open I was met with my partner's reddened face. He dragged me by the wrist, pulling me toward the medical bay. The scene before me was hectic. Battered and bloodied soldiers took up almost all of the available beds. Comrades stood waiting in the hallway for news about their friends. I stepped past the dividers and pulled on a set of gloves. Just as the vinyl snapped tight against my wrist, my eyes met his. Sitting in the corner of the bay, casually stretched out in a chair. I quickly placed my gloved hand over a sucking chest wound, and thus I was thrown into the chaos of another sleepless night.

My fingers gripped tight on the patient as the doctor set his shoulder back into place. He bit down on the cloth in his mouth

“I’ll tell you what, if I could I’d-” the soldier started

“Yeah, yeah, sleep it off, private.” I huffed as I walked toward my office. The flood of soldiers had either been sent off to surgery, their dorms, or the morgue. I ended up hearing from a sergeant that one of our airships had come into contact with some sort of explosive, explaining the horde of patients. 

As I approached my door, a hand gripped my shoulder. I turned around, teeth clenching as that set of deep brown eyes stared me down. 

“Ghost,” I mumbled as I stepped into my office. Without a word, he followed. I sank down into my chair, sighing as my aching feet could finally rest. 

“Where have you been?” He asked, stepping closer. He shifted his weight onto one of his feet. His hands slid into his front pockets. 

“Busy,” I mumbled as I leaned back in my chair. He looked around my office, chuckling lightly.

“I can tell,” his eyes focused on me again, flicking down to my body, and then back up to my face. I kept my gaze fixed on his. He stayed silent as he leaned against my desk. My pulse began to quicken as he got closer. Feigning composure, I cocked my eyebrow at him. He hummed as he tapped his fingers against the wood. 

“You said five days.” He started, “It’s been six, but god are you hard to get ahold of.”

I recall telling him I’d remove the stitches in five days. I stood up, wincing as the ache in my feet returned. He stayed put, blocking my path to the examination table. 

“If I didn’t know any better I would’ve thought I’d scared ya off.” He said with a crooked smile. 

“It’s a Good thing you know better then, isn’t it?” I quipped. Having enough of his cockiness for today, I brushed past him on my way to grab my scissors. 

“Oh come on, you’re cute when you’re flustered.” His boots made a dull thud on the linoleum as he approached me from behind. I felt the heat of his breath tickling the back of my neck. I spun on my heel to face him. He quickly placed his hand on the wall above me, caging me in with his broad torso. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought you’d popped that stitch just to see me.”

He was silent, eyes wide. It was a hunch, just a hunch, that I had. As far as I was aware, training wasn’t scheduled for that day. It was a Sunday after all. His look of shock confirmed my thoughts. I’d caught him. 

“Lieutenant, you look quite cute when you’re flustered,” I said with a shit-eating grin. 

Maybe it was the fact that I was a paramedic, or maybe it was drilled into my head after my time in the military, but I wasn’t going to let him see me as someone so eagerly conquered. I gripped his mask, partly to pull him close, and partly to pull it up over his nose. As if I snapped him from his shock, he quickly moved his hands to my waist, fingers digging into my bloodied uniform. His breath fanned over my face. His eyes flicked back and forth between my lips and my eyes. 

“If you don’t want this, you need to tell me now,” he said sternly. His fingers impatiently kneaded my sides. This time using the collar of his shirt, I pulled him in for a kiss. Our lips mashed together harshly, moving against each other in perfect sync. His hand slid down my back, over my ass, and to the back of my thigh. He gripped my thigh tightly, tugging it up and over his hip. Even through the layers of tactical gear, I could feel his stiff cock pressing into me. I moaned against his mouth as he rutted his hips against me. He pulled my other leg over his hips, hands slipping under my ass to stabilize me. I hooked my arms around the back of his neck and pulled him back into a heated kiss. He slipped his tongue into my mouth, colliding with my own in a messy battle for dominance. Drool ran down my parted lips, partly from his intrusion, and partly due to the way he rocked his hips against my aching core. My fingers slid under his mask and tugged it the rest of the way off. I carded my fingers through his short blonde hair, pinching the strands between my knuckles and pulling. He moaned into my mouth and sped up the movements of his hips. A knock at my door drew me from my bliss. Simon quickly set me down on my feet. I wiped the saliva off of my lips with a sleeve. Noticing his mask on the floor, I picked it up and quickly slipped it into my back pocket. I pointed to the exam table. Getting the hint, he took a seat, pretending to act injured. I pulled open my office door and was met with my partner. 

“Need your signature on this paperwork,” he explained as he handed me a clipboard and pen. I quickly, and messily, signed on the line labeled “witness signature” before handing the papers back to him. 

“Good work out there, man,” I said as I patted him on the shoulder.

“Oh, can you help me put these backboards away? Greyson cleaned 'em all for us,” he asked. I nodded, quickly shooting a glance back at Simon who was staring down at his phone.

“Yeah, just let me wrap this up. I’ll meet you out there,” I said, gesturing to the blonde behind me. My partner nodded and started down the hallway. I turned toward the table and quickly approached Simon. Leaning in with my hand resting on his thigh, I spoke quietly next to my ear. 

“I’ll meet you back at your room, just give me twenty minutes.” I slid my hand up his thigh until my fingers just barely brushed against his hardened cock. His hips twitched. I withdrew my hand and spun on my heel, leaving him alone in my office. 

My heart was pounding in my ears as I stood in front of his door. I slowly reached my hand out and tapped my knuckles against the wood. The door swung open. A toned arm reached out to pull me inside. My body was swiftly pushed up against the door. My eyes widened when I saw him. He’d changed out of his tactical gear, instead opting for just a pair of low-hanging gray sweatpants. What a fuckin’ tease. His lips crashed against mine as his hands worked to quickly unbutton my uniform top. Heat rushed to my face as he tossed the fabric aside. His focus went to my belt, nimble fingers quickly slid the leather from my belt loops. He dropped to my knees and looked up at me through his lashes as he undid my quick lace boots. The sight of him kneeling before me was dizzying. I ran my fingers through his hair as he helped me out of my boots. He then moved to my pants, undoing the buttons and easing them down my hips. He pressed soft kisses to my bare thighs as he pulled the fabric down to my ankles. I gripped his chin, tilting his head up to look at me. I stepped to the side, leaving my pants on the ground. I glanced at him over my shoulder as I walked towards his bed. I slowly crawled onto his mattress and turned to lay on my back against his pillows. He stood up, making his way to the mattress. His brown eyes scanned every detail of my body. He kneeled between my legs, running his hands over my thighs. I crossed my ankles behind his back, pulling his hips closer to mine. He propped himself up on his elbows and leaned in to kiss me. With a groan, he began to move his hips against me. I could feel a damp spot in my underwear that began to grow. My stomach fluttered as he began to kiss down my neck, sucking roughly on my skin. His hands glided up over my hip bones, over my ribs, and under the band of my sports bra. He pawed at my chest, tweaking my nipples between his fingers. I twitched, my hips bucking forward into his growing bulge. He groaned as he slipped the spandex over my head. His lips latched onto one of my nipples while his hands occupied the other. He gently sunk his teeth into the sensitive skin, earning a whine from me. I watched as he pulled back, tugging on my skin. 

“Ghost-“ I Said breathlessly. He hummed, bringing his mouth to my other nipple and circling his tongue around it. He palmed my cunt through the thin fabric of my underwear. He groaned, pulling back from my chest and focusing his attention between my legs. 

“I haven’t even done anything and you’ve already soaked through,” he said in a deep voice, pupils dilating as he looked at the mess between my legs. He slipped his fingers under the waistband of my underwear, roughly pulling them over my hips and down my legs. I yelped as my body jolted from the force. He placed his hands on top of my knees and slowly spread my legs. I looked away, feeling another wave of heat on my skin. My head began to spin as he pressed gentle kisses to my inner thighs, slowly creeping toward my center. Pushing my knees further apart, he licked a thick stripe up my cunt. 

“Ghost-” I said breathlessly as I gripped his sheets. He moaned against my skin, sending vibrations up my spine. He flicked his tongue against my clit as his fingers kneaded my thighs. The warmth that enveloped my cheeks spread down my neck and through my extremities. His brown eyes looked up at me through his blonde eyelashes. His cheeks were dusted with a light blush and his hips steadily grinded against the mattress. His lips wrapped around my clit, sucking harshly. My thighs quaked and squeezed around his head. With a grunt he pushed one of my legs up to my chest, not daring to break contact with my clit. 

“Ghost,” I whimpered, “you're so good,” I praised him. I reached down between my legs and slipped my fingers through his damp hair. He pulled back, snapping me out of my haze. His teeth sank into my inner thigh. Two of his fingers circled my entrance, slowly sinking in up to the first knuckle. His fingers were thick and calloused, and the way they rubbed against my walls had me drooling. He pulled out, rubbing his fingers up my saliva-soaked cunt, and then dipping back down again. His fingers slipped in easier, meeting less resistance as he slowly worked me open. He kissed over the red marks he left on my thigh before focusing his attention back on my clit. 

My body was quivering as his fingers hit every right spot inside me. A stream of moans slipped past my tongue, only to be muffled as I clamped my hand over my mouth. 

“Baby,” He Said with a Kiss to my thigh, “let me hear you.” He pulled his sodden fingers out of me and lightly smacked my cunt with the palm of his hand. The sound that came out of me was too loud, too desperate to be muffled. I buried my hand in the sheets again. My knuckles turned white from the force. He thrust his fingers back into me, starting up a fast pace with a force strong enough to have my body bouncing against his knuckles. With a groan, he leaned in, bringing his tongue back to my clit. My hips rocked against his mouth. He chuckled at my desperation, opting to flick his tongue against me with more fervor. 

“Ghost!” I cried out as my hips began to move on their own. “Fuck I’m so close!” He pulled his face back, instead opting to use the thumb on his unoccupied hand to drive me closer to my orgasm. My grip on his hair tightened. A flood of static washed over me as my muscles spasm uncontrollably. With a loud cry, I reached my climax. My vision turned to white, and my eyes stung as they rolled into the back of my head. 

“That’s it, bein' so fuckin’ good for me, aren’t’cha,” Simon said as he sat back on his shins, watching me slowly come out of my haze. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath. Droplets of sweat ran down my chest and dampened the hair covering the nape of my neck. 

“You’re cute when you cum,” he said as he stood up off of the bed. He pushed his sweats down his hips. My eyes widened as I watched his cock spring free. It was thick, and flushed, with a string of precum beading from the tip. 

“Ghost, I don’t think it’s gonna fit,” I told him as he stepped out of the sweats. He grabbed my ankles and pulled me toward the edge of the bed. My fingers dug into the mattress as he pulled me even closer. My ass was hanging off the bed. I firmly shifted my weight onto my shoulders, propping myself up to watch as he lined his cock up with my entrance. 

“I’ll make it fit,” he huffed, running the head of his cock up and down my cunt. “You on the pill?”

“Implant,” I responded.

“Good, 'cause I don’t like to wrap it up.” He pushed forward sinking just his tip inside me. I threw my head back against the pillows, moaning at the stretch of his cock. His head hung low, lips parted as he eased his way inside me. I felt full, filled to the brim, but he kept pushing forward. I bit down on my lip until a twinge of metal soaked my tastebuds. 

“Hang on,” He muttered as he pulled out. He threw open his bedside drawer, digging through its contents until he pulled out a clear bottle. I watched as he popped open the cap and drizzled the lube over his cock. With his free hand, he stroked his shaft, spreading the wetness over his skin. Tossing the bottle aside, he quickly stepped forwards and pushed into my cunt once again. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as he slid in with much less resistance. 

“There we go, Open up for me,” He groaned as he started to slowly pull back. My toes curled as he quickly shoved himself back in at a rough pace. I threw my head back against the covers, savoring the way his thrusts made my body bounce against him. My legs thrashed as he circled my clit with his thumb.

“Simon!” I cried as tears began to well in my eyes. “Too much!”

“Oh come on, baby. Your clits practically beggin’ for it. Who am I to deny,” he grunted, voice trembling with every rough thrust against my cervix. The muscles in my stomach tightened as I rapidly approached my second orgasm. 

“You’re fuckin-“ he gasped, “squeezin’.” His thrusts grew more intense. His cock head pounding against my cervix sparked a delicious pain that had me gripping even harder on his cock.

“Simon, cum with me, please.” I whimpered as I reached out to tweak one of his nipples. He threw his head back groaning loudly as his hips drew back and forth. My throat grew sore as a flood of moans broke past my vocal chords. I cried out his name as I lost myself again. He moaned, hips twitching as warmth filled my insides. I looked at him through my fluttering eyelids. His brows were furrowed, lips plump and slick with saliva. His eyes opened and settled on my flushed face. He slowly pulled out, drawing my attention to the mess between my legs. I felt his cum slowly drip out of me and run down my ass. His eyes widened, cock stiffening again as he watched my twitching cunt. 

“Fuck, you really took all of me, doll.” He bit his lip and began to knead my ass. 

“You wanna go again, Lieutenant?” I asked, sliding my hand down my body and spreading my cunt for him. He grunted and brought his hand to his cock, giving it a couple of pumps. 

“Turn around for me,” he said, gesturing with his finger. I flipped onto my stomach, wiggling my ass just to tease him even more. He spread my cheeks and stood back to watch as another stream of his cum dripped from my cunt. 

“You want me to fuck another load into you?” He asked, gripping my hair tightly. 

“Yes sir,” I said, moving my ass. His hand harshly landed on my skin, drawing a moan from me. 

“Want me to fill your cunt, aye?” He said, punctuating his words with another smack. 

“Mmmh fuck me, lieutenant!” I moaned as I felt the head of his cock press into my hole. With a grunt he pushed forward, fully sheathing himself. My head dropped. I bit down on his blanket to muffle the influx of high-pitched moans arising from my stomach. He grunted and made what sounded like a spitting noise. I was too fucked out to pay attention to what he was doing, but eventually, I felt the intrusion of his fingers at my ass. He started with his index, slowly sinking it in, testing how tight my muscles were. He groaned, speeding up his hips as he curled his finger. 

“Spread your ass. Wanna see you take my fingers,” he ordered as he slipped a second spit-soaked finger into my ass. I let out a muffled moan as I spread myself for him. He groaned, pushing his fingers deeper into me. “Oh I can feel my dick in ye like this,” he groaned, angling his hips up. 

A fire ignited in my extremities as his cock hit every single nerve ending inside of me. With the added pressure of his fingers, I felt like he was damn near close to splitting me open. My toes dug into the carpet as I crawled further and further into my ecstasy. 

“Baby, you’re clenchin’. You gonna cum again? What is that, number three?” I could hear the smirk in his voice as he gripped my hip, pulling my ass back onto his dick. I nodded, choking out a sob against his soaked blankets. “Maybe next time I’ll fuck your arse. You seem to like- it,” his words were cut off by a moan. His thrusts grew sloppier, the pace erratic as he approached his climax. With a particularly deep thrust of his cock, I lost myself, screaming his name out as my legs turned to jelly. He slid his fingers out and used the palm of his hand to give me another hard smack to my ass. His hips stilled. My body heaved as I choked out a sob, maybe from the pleasure, maybe from the growing pain in my cervix. 

The mattress dipped as he climbed into bed. His hands gripped my sore hips and tugged me back into his embrace. My breathing was labored as I attempted to catch my breath. Simon softly pressed kisses against my jawline, stroking over my stomach lightly. 

“Fuck, Simon. I could feel you in my goddamn lungs.” I said with a chuckle, placing my hand over his. 

“Told you I'd make it fit,” he said with another kiss to my jaw. We sat in silence, only interrupted by the sound of each other's breath. I could feel his heart pounding against my back, a strong, fast rhythm. He slotted one of his legs between mine. Our limbs began to tangle as I pulled him closer to me. His lips moved to the back of my neck, and my shoulder. Not a single millimeter was left without a kiss. My lips curled Into a smile, and I reached my hand back to grab at his hip.

“So what about my stitches?” Simon asked against the skin of my shoulder. 

“We can leave it for another day. Just don’t make me leave this bed right now, Simon.”

Masterlist

[morrimorriarts]

The Reason Why You Love Him

An Akaashi Keiji (Haikyuu) x Reader Oneshot

A one-shot of your relationship with Akaashi - and everything that came with it.

This fic includes: Gender Neutral Reader, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Themes, Mild Cursing, Self-starvation,

Word Count: 11k Words

Enjoy!

THE REASON WHY YOU LOVE HIM

Maybe it's the way he smiled.

When Akashi Keiji smiles, it’s in a soft way - his lips turn up, cheeks rising a little. When he smiles, the people around who see him blushes, for who has ever seen a sight so beautiful?

But when Akaashi Keiji smiles, it’s warm. His mouth curls upwards, his eyes turning to crescents as they smile, too. His lips part to show a bit of his teeth, while gentle pinks seem to bloom at his cheeks. Sometimes, he laughs shortly after, a sound deep from his throat, melodious and comforting.

The first time Akaashi Keiji smiled at you, it was the day you first met.

He sat right next to you, neat and composed as the other students came filing in. It's the first day of school and you thank the heavens the person you are seated with looks gorgeous and smart.

You were the first to speak.

"Hello." Your voice is quiet, almost shy, a part of you is afraid he won't reply. His head rose and he turned to look at you. 

He replied, “Hello.”

You fumble with your greetings and introduction, your own name stumbles out of your lips - there is something about him that has made you a little tongue-tied. When he smiles and gives you his name, your brain is quick to repeat it a second, third, fourth, fifth time. “My name is Akaashi Keiji,” He said, “I hope we get along.”

He smiles. It is the first time you feel your heart skip a beat.

“I’m sure we will.” You respond with a smile.

Maybe it’s his kindness, even if it feels a little limited at times.

Akaashi Keiji knows how to give - all within reason, of course.

He’s the type to lend an eraser or a pencil, but only if it’s the extra.

“Akaashi… can I borrow your pencil?” You asked quietly, leaning to his direction. He looks at you for a brief second, before he turns and opens his pencil case. Soon enough, he’s handing you a pencil, 

And when he handed it towards you, your skin buzzed for a second when the two of you touched, even if it was only for a moment. “I’ll return it after class.” You said, he only nods. When you turn away, there’s a thrum beneath your skin and the pencil lended to you feels like gold.

He’s the type to share his book with you, but makes no move to adjust.

So you move your seat closer to his, peering into his open book as you take note of the lesson. Akaashi is kind enough to wait for you to finish taking notes before turning the page, his own hands working quickly to paste translucent sticky notes along the important details. He has an entire pack of it by his side, scribbling more information on the spaces in between.

Akaashi is kind enough to help you study between classes or to help you clear up confusing lessons.

“Factor them, so you can get rid of some of the components.” Akaashi murmurs, writing on your paper to show you. “Like this.” He said softly, patiently. You nod along as he said, “Okay, now you cancel both the (x+1) on the denominator and numerator.” You follow his instructions, calmed by his patience to teach.

“It’ll be easier for you if you memorize the formulas and such. During the quiz, you’ll probably have no time to keep on doing things manually.” He said.

You laugh sheepishly, “I’ll try… you’ll still help me, right?”

“I can help you study.” He said with finality.

The day of the exam, you lean towards him a little, but before you can even ask for his help, his arm has already covered his answers. He raises an eyebrow at you, which makes you turn back to your own paper.

And yet, when you sulk afterwards, he gives you a small carton of banana milk, though he bumps it on your forehead first before he sets it down.

If not, then maybe it’s his voice.

Because when Akaashi Keiji spoke, he spoke smoothly, he did not stutter nor show signs of doubt. It’s one of the reasons why people like him so much.

You look up at him from your seat, watching him stand as he was called on by the teacher. Akaashi opens his book, beautiful eyes finding where the last reader left off, before he starts to speak. His english is a little heavy, yet flows well as he reads the part of the poem assigned to him.

He distracts you enough that you do not realize when the poem has ended and where your daydreaming began.

Akaashi looks at you, blinking before turning away.

If you weren’t called to read the next part, maybe you would’ve paid more attention and saw how he too, stared as you spoke, soft pink rising up his neck.

And if it’s still not that, then maybe it’s because of his presence alone.

Akaashi sits silently to the side, eating a rice ball as he reads a book. All around you, your friends babble on and on about a new cafe that opened just down the street, a few blocks away from your school.

You’re about to say that you want to go to the aquarium instead, when the others started to gush all about the food that they want to try out in the new cafe. “Are you okay with going to the cafe?” They asked you, simultaneously turning their heads towards your direction.

Your throat constricts a little, as if your heart has jumped to your tongue. It takes you a second before you say, “Yeah… sure.”

“Alright, this Saturday, then!” They grinned. 

They leave soon after the bell rings, leaving you fiddling with your hands, budgeting everything in your mind. You sighed, when you turned back to the side, Akaashi was looking at you. “Oh, sorry. Were we too loud?” You asked.

“Why didn’t you tell them?” He asked.

Your eyebrows furrow, “Tell them what?”

“That you didn’t want to go to the cafe.” He said simply. 

You tense up under his gaze so much that “What?” Is the only thing that you can utter.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear.” He smiled.

You shake your head, “No, no- but… how did you know?”

Akaashi Keiji’s reply is simple, “Your tone was different. When you really agree to something, you sound much happier than that.” When you don’t reply and only stare back, Akaashi blinks before taking it as a sign that the conversation is over. He turns back to his book, finishing his rice ball as he flipped to another page.

A part of you wants to end it at that, but the other, more impulsive part is quick to ask - “Then, would you like to go to the aquarium with me?”

Akaashi stared for a moment, before he smiled and said, “Sure.”

That was what led to this, to walking under glass-kept waters, where above you both, schools of fish swimming away from sharks, the mutterings of other visitors reaching your ears as they talked. 

You try to remember all the fish facts you read up online - maybe it will impress him, maybe it will make him talk more. You go on and on and on. Akaashi only nods along. There is a pang in your heart and you feel your hands tremble.

You try again, you start to ask questions.

“What’s your favorite fish?” You asked, by now, you’ve forgotten that you’re here to look at the animals, not fumble over words as you desperately try to make conversation. Akaashi shrugs - he doesn’t have one.

You try again.

“Have you been to an aquarium before?” Yes.

“When?” When I was 10, I came with my family.

“Did you like it?” Not much.

You spew out questions until you’ve run out of breath trying to get rid of the silence. So you ask a question you don’t like asking.

“I’m sorry, am I annoying you?” You asked. You dread the answer he will give - what if he found you boring, or noisy, or selfish, or a know-it-all, what if he hates you? What if he regrets coming here?

Akaashi responds with a small shake of his head, “You’re not.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to fill the silence-” You said again, you don’t believe that you’re not. Because you’ve heard that before. “I just-” You hate yourself for stuttering, “I just don’t want this to be boring.”

“You don’t have to force yourself to talk.” Akaashi said, blinking seriously and offering you a small smile. “I enjoy your company as is.”

Akaashi walks beside you - he is silent. Yet, for the first time, the silence doesn’t bother you.

And oh. There is comfort in his silence.

Where others’ felt tense and frustrating, Akaashi’s silence felt normal. His presence does not leave with the sound of his voice, no, instead, it only seems to solidify - because Akaashi Keiji doesn’t need to speak to say that he’s there.

The two of you end up in front of a couple stingrays, you can’t help but put your hands against the glass, marveling at the way they glide through the water. One of them swooped upwards and you can’t help but giggle at the seemingly smiling face of the animal. Your eyes followed it as it swam around.

When you turn back to Akaashi, he is smiling. “You finally look happy.” He said.

A dark blush rose from your neck - you don’t know if he knew how his words have affected you, or if he even knows how he sounded but you don’t speak of it. You simply bask in the moment, part of you registers this as a date, but the more rational part of you labeled it as platonic. You decide to ignore them both, instead, you simply walk with him along the lit path of the dark aquarium. All around you are silhouettes of other people, a thousand buzzing voices tuned out by Akaashi’s presence.

He, alone, is enough to draw your attention even as he did nothing to get it.

Soon enough, you stood by the edge of a dolphin show, watching with wonder as trainers guide and instruct three dolphins to play around. You don’t mind the way that the water splashes on your new outfit, nor the noise of the other visitors. Beside you, Akaashi watches, as well.

One of the dolphins practically flies out of the water, making you slap his arm excitedly as you point towards it. Akaashi only chuckles - he doesn’t mind the way that you’re acting, letting you do as you wish.

And when the show is over and the dolphins swim freely, Akaashi is the one who holds you back from touching them when they get close - when you pout at him he only says, “It’s unpredictable.”

You’re quick to get over it, going over instead to a penguin enclosure, where workers come and let you feed the penguins. You’re quick to wear the gloves, throwing fish just a few feet from where you both were, watching in amazement as the penguins waddle and swarm at the food. You look over to grin at him, “Can you take a picture?”

Akaashi nodded, pulling out his phone to capture pictures of you and your antics around the aquarium. Soon, you both end up under glass again, looking up at the fish that swim by.

“Look! It’s a hammerhead shark!” You smiled, watching it swim up above you both.

Suddenly, you feel his hand close over yours, he pulls you away from a group of visitors you were about to collide with. “Ah, sorry.” You smiled sheepishly at them. When they’re gone, you thank Akaashi, who only nodded.

You don’t comment on it when he keeps on holding your hand - why would you?

As you look around and take your own pictures, Akaashi is the one who tugs you in a certain direction to avoid you getting in an accident. Your mind is aware of your surroundings - after the first time, your brain becomes more alert in order to not embarrass yourself and yet, you let him. You let Akaashi hold your hand, directing you where to go even if you knew it.

A part of you warms at the amount of care the simple gesture showed.

The time to leave comes, but instead of parting ways, you let him walk the both of you to a small cafe near the aquarium. You don’t mind that as he does, his hands still keep themselves intertwined with yours

Your skin flushes at each squeeze or tug of his concern.

He squeezes your hand by the crosswalk just as the lights turn red and the cars stop, holding your hand in a hold that is secure, yet comfortable - he didn’t hold your hand like the bruising grip of your parents, or the loose grip of your laughing friends. He held your hand. He held your hand.

He opens the door for you when you get there, letting you sit as he leaves to get your orders. It is then that he leaves your hand unoccupied. And when he went away, you clutch your hand to your chest.

Akaashi Keiji holds your hand once and your heart thrums in his name.

No? His care, then.

After all, it was Akaashi Keiji who cared enough about you to ask where you were when you were absent in school. "Are you okay?" He asked over the phone.

You sniffle, the cold has lessened but the ache in your body remained, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little bit under the weather."

After school hours, you are surprised to see multiple notifications of texts from him. When you open them, you giggle at the sight of photographs of his notes (thoughtfully separated by subject) and a text listing a to-do list of things you need to catch up on. 

You smile and text him, 'Thank you :D'

Your phone dings. He replies, 'You're welcome.'

Still no? Then maybe his passion.

Akaashi Keiji's passion burns silently. It's there, but it doesn't spread like a wildfire. Instead, it's a well-kept flame that never dies.

You step into the gym, looking around curiously.

You sit by the benches, the sight of volleyball and players aren't new but this sight of Akaashi is. Akaashi's gentle hands seem a little more aggressive in court. His eyes seemed a little sharper and calculative as he made quick judgments of who to set to and how to fool the enemy into making a mistake.

You're completely taken by the sight of it.

Akaashi doesn't scream out motivation to his teammates, but his actions are loud enough. You can barely keep yourself seated, the Bento box you spent hours making feel heavier in your hands.

A whistle blows as both teams breathe heavily. Your heart sinks when you see Akaashi's team panting as the other team celebrates.

Akaashi walks off at the same time as the others do.

You're quick to stand and go after him. When you catch up, he's scowling slightly in front of a vending machine, watching the drink drop. It melts away at the first sound of your footsteps.

He turns his head and looks at you when you call out to him. You fumble with your words, "Uhm- thank you for the notes. I, uh, made this for you." You said, extending the Bento Box towards him.

He takes it hesitantly. "You didn't have to."

You respond, "I wanted to."

You walk with him to the cafeteria, where you both sit down to start eating. 

"Are you okay?" You ask. It feels a little awkward.

Akaashi looks at you, "Of course." The tight grip he has on his chopsticks is enough to let you know how he truly felt.

You watch him carefully, trying to see if he liked it.

He doesn't show his emotions obviously but you see the small jump on his eyebrow when he ate the egg rolls you made, or the light, quick purse of his lips when he sees the slightly burnt sausages. "If you don't like it, you don't have to eat it." You said.

Akaashi Keiji stares at you as he puts another sausage in his mouth.

You fiddle with your fingers, that is when he asked, "Did you get hurt while making this?" You look down at your bandaged fingers and quickly hide them under the table.

"No?" You said, flinching when it comes as a question instead of a statement.

Akashi blinks. You relent. "Fine. Yes I did."

He sighed but didn't say anything else.

And yet, before lunch break ended, Akaashi sat by you, changing your sloppily applied bandages with new ones. "You have to disinfect the cuts first before you bandage them." He reminds you, "And next time, be more careful."

When he's done, he places another carton of banana milk into your hands, "Here, it'll make you feel better."

By the time school is over, your eyes wander to see where Akaashi might've gone. You ask around, no one really knows either - this is why you hated Thursdays, because Thursdays meant having only one morning class with Akaashi. You text him, waiting for a reply as your feet continue to wander.

He does not reply.

Finally, you end up by the gym. You jump slightly at the sound of balls hitting the ground. When you step inside, you see Akaashi, standing only a few feet away from the net, setting for people who weren't there.

"Akaashi?"

Your voice breaks his concentration, making him tense. He caught the ball in his hands, looking over to you, asking what you needed.

You asked him, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he replied. A part of you knew that he wasn't.

So you walk in, false confidence draped on your shoulders as you asked, "Do you want help?"

Akaashi is hesitant, but he accepts.

Soon, you are throwing balls in his direction, his body moving almost on autopilot as he keeps on setting again and again and again. By the time you're both done, the sun begins to threaten that it will leave entirely, giving you only minutes of sunlight before the two of you finally make your way out.

"I'll walk you home," he said.

You shake your head. Though the two of you go towards the same initial direction, you know that when you reach the third intersection, you'd have to part. His house is to the left of the third intersection, yours is to the right of the fifth. If he goes to yours, he'd have to walk for thirty minutes more and you knew he was tired. You knew he was slowly burning out.

So you said, "You don't have to."

He replied, "I want to."

You couldn't find it in yourself to say no to that.

The two of you stop by a small shop.

You buy him strawberry milk the same time he bought you banana milk.

So maybe you don't hate Thursdays as much anymore. Because now, Thursdays meant late volleyball with Akaashi, followed by a night walk and banana milk.

Ah. When did you start liking banana milk?

Maybe it's all of the above.

Before you knew it, you only have a year left before college comes so you stand beneath a cherry blossom tree, cursing under your breath because fuck, this is so cliche. 

It’s spring and everything is blooming - everyone is confessing. It feels so stupid to do the same but your heart is thumping like crazy and everything else feels irrelevant. Who cares if it’s cliche? Who cares if it’s been done before? Who cares if it’s obvious?

It’s your feelings and you have the right to do with it as you wish so when Akaashi comes into view, everything melts away. Suddenly, it’s just him and you under a cherry blossom tree.

You know that he knows - after all, how could he not?

And yet, you still spit it out, the words that feel so big on your tongue. “I like you.” You said, screwing your eyes shut as you try to ask your heart to calm down because if not, you might just pass out right then and there. “I like you so much.” You breathe, your lungs stagger and ache as you try to take in oxygen.

Akaashi Keiji replies. “Why?” You open your eyes, it’s then that you see the cards of pinks and glitters tucked crumpled on his pockets, and the plastic bag of chocolates he was holding. Ah. There were those that came before you.

You stammer - you didn’t think of a poem to tell him how much you like him or a beautiful metaphor that illustrates how you feel. “I-” You stumble over your words, “I just- I just like you.”

“When I’m with you, I’m comfortable and I feel accepted and I haven’t felt this way before.” You said, you feel all tongue-tied again, as if each syllable is stuck in your throat and you have to force them out each time. “I love your silence, when I’m with you I don’t feel pressured to be someone I’m not and I… I appreciate the way you treat and care for me.”

Your answer is all over the place, if you knew, you would have memorized an essay that answered him fluently and properly, you would construct a message that had clear points, you wouldn’t stutter or doubt if your message is coming through. If you knew he would ask ‘Why?’, you would have written a thousand words to tell him why you liked him but you didn’t.

So you conjure all the ways you liked him - “I like it when we touch, because your hands feel warm and soft and when you held my hand that day we went to the aquarium, I couldn't help but want you to keep on holding on to me. I’m jealous of all the girls who had the courage to confess to you before me- I envy their strength to look you in the eyes and tell you ‘I like you’ because I’m confessing to you right now but I can’t look you in the eyes because I’m embarrassed and I feel underprepared.” You spoke quickly, looking down on the ground as you gripped the box of homemade cupcakes you baked for him specifically for today.

“I want to give you something better because now I see what the others gave and it’s all so expensive but I- I don’t have enough money to afford that much and I never really had a talent for writing heartfelt letters because they all end up cheesy but I- I wanted to do it for you. So instead, I made you cupcakes! But I don’t think you’ll like them because- because it’s my first time making cupcakes of this flavor because I know you like this but I’ve never made it before but I wanted to make it for you but Akaashi I’m so nervous that I’m speaking the first thing that comes in my mind. So please, if you’re going to reject me, please just reject me already-” You were going to look up to look him in the eyes when he cut you off.

“May I kiss you?” He asked softly.

His words are enough to make your brain short-circuit.

“What?” You asked - you must have heard him wrong.

Akaashi repeats his question, “May I kiss you?”

You stammer - what even is there to say? You respond a little quicker, tongue tripping on words, "Y-yes!"

Akaashi Keiji leans in, you freeze. His hands cupped both sides of your cheeks, you have a second to register how he drops the plastic bag filled with chocolate treats. You have another to panic about whether or not your breath smells good and whether or not you should open your mouth or keep it closed.

Akaashi Keij kisses you under a cherry blossom tree and shit, it's fucking cliche but you love it - because that moment, that fraction in time is strictly just yours and his. It didn't matter that this was probably done before, that multiple students have probably kissed under the same tree… what mattered is that Akaashi Keiji's lips are on your own and your first kiss tastes like chocolates and lip balm.  

Akaashi pulls away, you finally dare to look at him and your heart skips a beat at the sight of his flushed cheeks and the way his breaths seem labored. He is just as breathless as you are.

His hands are still holding your cheeks.

You feel them tremble against your skin.

Before anything else could happen, impulsivity pushes you to pull him in again by the collar of his uniform. Until his lips are flush against yours for the second time because once is not enough.

Your grip on his clothes tighten.

Ah, you're probably going to buy chocolate-flavored lip balm soon.

Maybe it's something entirely different.

Being with Akaashi means a good morning text by the time you wake up and a goodnight text before you sleep. The sight of it is enough to make you kick your feet in the air, heart acting like drums as they beat against your hollowed ribs. 

Being with Akaashi means little study dates in the library, tucked in some corner where no one will interrupt you both. He leaned towards you, voice patient when he said, “Now you have to convert it to moles.” He nods along when you do it correctly, but is quick to correct you when you get it wrong. And in turn, you help him review for tests you knew he could do on his own.

“But I want to do this with you.” He said, when you mention that he can probably review this by himself. Akaashi stares at you. As you stare into his blue eyes, you realize that it’s really easy to fall a little deeper, until you’re neck deep and your heart swells.

You smile. “Okay… let’s continue then.”

You remember that the first time the two of you decided to go on a real, official date, it’s in a botanical garden. The coming of Spring has driven the both of you to visit one. That is what gets you on a train going to Kyoto, your lips curved into a smile as you show him the destination - Kyoto Botanical Garden. You’ve already told him about this, knowing that he would appreciate having the chance to make a loose plan the two of you can follow to make the most of the day.

Akaashi doesn’t say much, he only says that he’s looking forward to it, as well. A part of you is nervous that he’s pretending - ah, maybe this is an elaborate prank and Akaashi Keiji is much more cruel than you think - but before you can overthink it any further, Akaashi clamps his hand on top of yours, intertwining them securely.

You lean on his shoulder.

Akaashi tenses.

Immediately, you move to pull away, only to have his unoccupied hand pat your head, gently guiding it back on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs softly, “it’s my first time being like this, so I didn’t expect it.”

“Oh… it’s fine.” You smile to yourself, giving his hand a little squeeze.

The world falls silent. You think to yourself, ah, could this get any better?

Akaashi turns and places a soft kiss on top of your head and you think - yes, yes it can.

The two of you arrive at the garden at exactly 11:07 AM. The moment you do, you find a good place to snap a picture of both of your shoes. It’s followed by a selfie near the gates, making you glad that you brought your selfie stick along.

Akaashi steps close to you as the two of you pose for the picture, his hand finding your waist as natural as the leaves falling from nearby trees. And perhaps a part of you falls along with them as you feel his hold. You’re quick to take pictures, walking around and talking with him as you did.

Your feet lead you to the Rhododendron Garden. You feel your breath taken away by the sight of the flowers. You lead him nearer, taking pictures of the pink, red, and orange flowers. Akaashi’s hands are the ones who stop you from touching them.

“They can cause skin irritation.” He says simply.

You turn to him. “How did you know?”

He looks back towards you, “Research.”

A soft chuckle leaves your lips and you tease him, “Wow, I didn’t know you were such a nerd.” You stuck your tongue out to him playfully, making him huff a little. “Was it for an assignment? Or a project?”

“No.” He answered, holding your hands again.

“Then for what?” You smiled.

“For you.” He murmurs. “Plants and flowers are beautiful, yes, but I didn’t want to risk you getting harmed if you accidentally touch or eat one.”

“Eat one?” You asked. “You think I would eat a flower?”

“...yes.” He said, almost slowly as his eyes flicked to the side for a moment before his sight trails back to you. “I simply want to keep you safe and sound-” His explanation is cut off by the sound of your laugh, loud and kind of boisterous. He looked dumbstruck - a part of him had expected you to get offended… a part of him did not realize your laugh sounded this beautiful.

“Fine, whatever.” You chuckle, trying to brush it off and ignore the blush that has risen to your cheeks. “Whatever you say, I guess.” And if you hold his hand a little tighter, Akaashi speaks nothing of it. Instead, he gives your hand a small squeeze.

You venture towards the Rose Gardens, past a section of the Botanical which was fashioned to look European. You bend down a little, taking photographs of the flowers. "They're beautiful." You smile, eyes following the way they sway in the wind.

You don't see the way he looks at you - you are far too distracted by the roses to see it.

He says, "Yes, they are."

His gaze burns.

You end up walking along the central lawn, walking into a homey cafe as Akaashi holds your hand. “Lunch first, then we go to…” You scroll along your phone, where you have a map of the place saved. "The Japanese Gardens, right?”

Akaashi nods as the two of you set down your things. You sit in front of each other, quickly deciding on what you’ll get. Soon, he leaves you to get your orders, you stay seated, waiting patiently. When he gets back, he carefully places your Udon Noodle Soup in front of you, followed by a glass of water. On his side, he places a bowl of Katsudon. Followed by this is a plate of gyoza, which came with a small container for the sauce.

He smiles, “Be sure to eat well.” You can only nod as the two of you start eating, hands gripping your chopsticks securely. Somewhere in the middle, Akaashi catches you giving small glances towards his Katsudon, without hesitation, he picks up a piece and extends his hand out towards you. “It’s tasty, try it.”

You hesitate, before deciding to eat it. You lean in, taking it from his chopsticks and chewing slowly, nodding as he asked if you liked it. Your eyes meet. You are still leaning in a little and as if impulsivity possessed you, you decide to rise a little, meeting his lips with your own - and somehow, his Katsudon tastes a little better when it comes from his lips.

Akaashi chuckles, looking away a little as a soft blush rose from his neck.

The two of you eat quietly after that, stealing glances, sharing portions of your food as the two of you take a quick rest from walking. Deciding to take your time finishing the portion of gyoza left, Akaashi rose from his seat, taking the one beside you, instead. You spend the rest of that time talking softly, laughing and taking cute little pictures. You take a note to make a scrapbook soon - it’s the first time you’ve ever felt like this and every single part of you longs to simply capture this very moment and live in it forever.

The two of you leave soon after, making your way towards the Japanese Gardens.

He holds your hand as you walk, his fingers slotting between your own and you can’t help but wish that moments like these lasted for eternity.

Akaashi walks you home after your date. He leans towards you, gently pushing his lips against yours. When he pulls back, you have to blink multiple times to get back to your proper senses. He gives you a small, transparent box. You look up and take it from his hands, carefully holding the box as you gazed at the potted, succulent plant inside the box.

“I bought it for you while you were away for a bit.” He said, “I hope you take care of it.”

“Of course I will.” You smiled. “Thank you, ‘kaashi.”

Akaashi smiles, kissing you again, just as soft as the last time. “You’re always welcome. Let’s do this again soon.” He said after pulling away. You nodded, making him smile a little wider. “Goodnight.” He said, followed by a sweet, soft murmur of your name - and it was as if each syllable became priceless when he said them.

“Goodnight, Akaashi.” You smile.

He's so easy to love, isn't he?

Akaashi Keiji shares one of his earphones with you while the two of you sit next to each other. The first song he plays is always a love song, followed by whatever song is next on the playlist. You actually have your own playlist with him, titled 'A Dream Come True', each song was the answer to a question, making you chuckle as you began to compare and contrast your tastes in music. It's a bit cliche, but it's true, isn't it?

Akaashi Keiji always makes sure you're prepared for tests - because he knows that sometimes, you run low on motivation. So he brings you an energy drink, maybe a cup of coffee, sometimes even a whole meal. He stays up with you when you study your lessons, helping you out when you need it.

“Here,” he said, quietly as you both sat in your room, “I usually dissuade you from drinking these but I know you need it.” He sighed as he handed you the energy drink. He sits beside you, opening his notebook as he studies beside you again. As you drink, you take it upon yourself to hold his left hand, watching him scribble notes and make neat markings on the book he was reading.

Akaashi simply squeezes your hand lightly as he did, giving you brief glances when you move around before putting his attention back to studying.

Akaashi Keiji cooks with you. When you hit your first anniversary, he took it upon himself to invite you to his house while his family was away. There, the two of you spent the day making ramen from scratch.

He stands beside you as you massaged the dough, cutting up vegetables and pork as you did. Soon enough, you’re splitting the mass of dough, laughing as you both struggled a little to split it evenly. “If you end up with more noodles than me, I’m stealing your bowl.” You laughed, making him shake his head with a smile as he brought the bowl of flour closer.

You both start making sheets made up of the dough, folding and dusting it with flour before beginning to cut it to make noodles. "You're not cutting it evenly." He chuckled, looking up from his own noodles, which you saw were cut evenly.

"Whatever, perfectionist." You roll your eyes, though you do give a little more effort in evenly cutting them.

It doesn’t take long before you’re sitting next to him, assembling your ramen carefully. "Hey! That's my portion!" You gasp, stealing the piece of meat from him and hitting his hand lightly as he laughed. You place it carefully on top of your noodles, smiling as it all comes together.

He places a small container of chili powder near you, "Here, I know you like it spicy."

You smile, leaning in to kiss him briefly. "Thanks, you know me so well." He chuckled, watching you carefully sprinkle in some.

He puts your bowls next to each other, carefully placing chopsticks on top of neatly folded tissues. "Let's take a picture." He murmured. You snap quick pictures - both of the food and of each other - putting it into the gallery collection labeled as '1st Anniversary'. 

You start eating in the living room, opening the television and putting on a movie as you eat together.

He just feels perfect, doesn’t he?

It's been four years since then, college has come, and it threatens to split you apart.

"I can't this week," he said - how many times has it been?

You purse your lips, hand tightening your grip on the phone, "Again?" The question slips out of your lips like the falling of droplets. Small. Quick. Almost unheard. "You promised you'd come with me this time." A part of you is quick to give up - the Museum will open up again, don’t worry, don't worry - but the rest is starting to scurry away from him and your hands have started to ache as you hold onto strings that kept you together.

"I'm sorry," how many times have you heard that before?, "But this is a very important project, I can't risk passing it late."

More important than me? You almost bit back, more important than our 4th anniversary? You do not say it. You cannot. So you keep your true thoughts locked in the darkness of your mind and you say to him, "Yeah. Okay. Sure. We'll reschedule, then?"

"Yes, I'm really sorry-" you cut him off before he can speak your name, you knew that if he did, you would crumble and break and from the way you see it, Akaashi cannot risk being distracted by anything… by anyone.

It is the first time you ever missed an anniversary.

"It's okay." You said. You grip the phone a little tighter. You stare almost blankly at your computer screen. The phone call ends before you realize - you both do not say I love you anymore, the phrase has gone foreign on your tongue, like an unknown language you hear for the first time. And even your ears, which used to translate his playlists to that phrase; or your skin which used to shiver and recognize his touch as his way of saying it; or your lips which smile at the taste of his unspoken words - they neither hear, feel, nor taste it anymore. 

You place your phone away from sight. You do not wish to see it.

A vain feeling of burning grief rises from the embers of a broken heart - it threatens to choke you and leave your throat bruised and burnt from its touch. You almost want to beg for it to do so. You have a feeling that it would feel much better than this.

Loneliness. Your mind labeled the feeling - the emotion born from being alone; the feeling of being abandoned.

Your eyes trail to your computer screen. There, the sight of him makes your gut curl and tie in knots, the Akaashi you knew from two years ago smiles at you. The dimple on his cheek stays the same, so does the ruffle of his dark hair and the clearness of his blue eyes - the Akaashi you knew has gone static. 

Akaashi is smiling, wearing the outfit he wore during one of your dates in an art gallery - a simple, beige cardigan and loose pants, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. The sight of him from your computer screen looked so real it coaxes tears out of your eyes. Your dislike of drawing realism is dwarfed when it is him you draw. For how can it ever go against the love you have for him which always seems to overflow onto the spaces of your hollowed ribs?

It has been too long since you last saw each other and clumsy phone calls between classes or before you both go to sleep is not enough.

It is as if life has stolen him from you and dangles his image far from your reach yet close to your eyes - you see him in the darkness behind your eyelids, there, he has the chance to let you lay your head on his shoulder, the taste of banana milk sweet on your tongues, his hand holds yours and you are warm. So warm that you melt into his arms but now, in the cold and in the darkness of your dorm room, you are running a fever and your soul, which yearns for him screams his name but he does not respond in kind.

Instead, he says I'm sorry.

Oh how you've begun to despise that phrase.

You are left there on your bed, curled and crying and despising your reaction because at this point, you should have gotten used to it.

How many times has he left you like this, unknowing that it was a time you needed him most?

But then again… what did you expect?

The two of you have aged, you do not live just thirty minutes away anymore, instead, he lives two cities over, attending his dream college as you attend yours. You both chose this, saying that it will work, saying that you will make it work - but that did not last long.

Somewhere near the end of first year, your weekend dates have been forgotten; by the second, even scheduled dates are canceled and rescheduled, only to get canceled again. Now here, on your third, phone calls are filled with I miss you yet followed by I'm sorry. A part of you hates him for saying that, yet hates you more for sometimes doing the same.

It is as if life is determined to keep you apart, the same way fate strung you together, making you live half an hour apart from childhood to your teenage years yet never letting you meet until highschool - but ah. What if you two were never truly built to last?

Your nails dig into your skin, threatening to break into it and make you bleed. How many times have you done this to yourself? Hugging your knees to your chest, asking where it went wrong. You both tried didn't you? You both wanted this to work, didn't you?

Oh. What if everything is going wrong because you are the only one who wants this now?

You think. You think. You think.

What if, behind the closed phone screen, after the hung up calls and quick goodbyes, someone else wraps their arms around his shoulders like you used to. And it is them that whisper comfort in his ears and what if he is only waiting for the right way, for the right time to end it?

What if, when he says “I’m sorry”, he is only waiting for you to realize the silent goodbyes that follow that phrase?

Akaashi wouldn't do that to you… right?

You bite your lip, a part of you tries to pull you back but it cannot. You sink. In this falling, there is only darkness - you cannot envision Akaashi to be there to catch you, why hope that he will when you know that he is not there?

But you trust him, don't you?

And you love him, don't you?

You feel paralyzed on your bed, unable to move and unable to think of things other than the fact that he is not there. You felt as if you were going crazy.

Your roommates have come and go to tell you to eat, but your lips only move to give a half-hearted excuse that you aren’t hungry yet - in truth, you have no appetite at all, even as your stomach churns and eats itself from the inside. 

There’s a knock on your door. A part of you wishes it is him. The rest know it’s not.

It’s your roommate, they tell you that you should eat soon, it's late and you shouldn't skip dinner. "I know you're on a diet," they said, "but you haven't eaten properly in weeks. I don't want you to get sick, okay? Please eat dinner soon."

"I will." You respond - you will not. You hear their footsteps retreat, making you close your eyes as you try to fall back asleep.

But really, why do you love him?

You wake to the sound of knocking. Someone asks if they can come in. You grumble and say whatever comes into mind - "Leave me alone, go away." They knock again and apologize, and finally you relent - "Fine, come in, whatever." You huddle a little closer to your blankets, curling up as you hear the door open and their footsteps are heard as they walk in.

They close the door. You hear a soft click as they lock it.

They sit on your bed, you feel it dip under their weight. At this point, you can't find it in yourself to care if they end up being a serial killer or whatever - a thought that you'd probably regret in the afterlife, if ever.

They brush a hand through your hair, before you hear a sigh. They lift your blanket, settling beside you and putting a loose arm around your waist. They kiss your hair and come a little closer.

They utter your name and ask if you're asleep - you cannot find it in yourself to reply. So you pretend. You act like you're asleep, even if you knew that they probably know you aren't.

He doesn't tell you that he loves you.

When you truly wake hours later, it's near the afternoon, you sit up and feel their arm fall from its place on your waist. You look to the side and see him right there - Akaashi Keiji, warm and asleep as he breathed softly.

"So it wasn't a dream." You mumble to yourself. "You're really here."

You can't help but reach out to touch him. Your touch alone is enough to stir him awake, his eyes fluttering open and immediately focusing on you. His soft utterance of your name is enough to make you draw back. Just hours before, you had so much to say, but now that he was here, your parched throat could not bear to say anything.

“What happened?” He asked, getting up from the bed and holding your hand gently. “I hear you haven’t eaten properly in weeks.”

You sigh and shake your head, "It's nothing. It's late, Akaashi, you should get back to your dorm."

Akaashi shakes his head, looping his hand around your wrist and pulling you back. "Wait! I… I wanted to talk." He said. "About us."

Ah. Here it is. 

The thing you have been dreading - the coiled dread in your gut wakes, slithering up your spine until it curls around your lungs and heart. "What is it?" You ask.

"Why don't we go to the living room? I'll cook you up a meal as we talk." He said.

"Not here. The others-"

"I asked for a favor. They're out right now. For the entire day." He said. "I know you like privacy and I didn't really think you would be up for going out."

You nod hesitantly. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

You sit on the chair in front of the counter, he grabs the apron from the rack and begins to talk as he opens the refrigerator. "Is Omurice okay with you?"

"Yes but- actually, they cooked last night, there's probably still some leftovers from dinner. I can just eat that." You said, rising from your seat as the ache in your bones started to come back.

"Sit down," he said - it's the first time you've ever heard him sound so forceful. "Please… just… sit down, okay?" He turns towards you and smiles, "Let me take care of you."

He doesn't buy you your favorite meals.

He grabs a chopping board as he takes out the ingredients, along with the leftover pork chops from last night. He heats it up as he begins to chop portions of carrots and potatoes. "I'm not sure where to begin," he said.

"You're doing just fine- after that you just have to make fried rice then-" Your rambles are cut off.

"You know that that's not what I meant." He sighed.

"Well maybe I don't want to talk about it." You said, "Maybe I'm not ready to let you go- Akaashi, we've been together for four years, I'm not going to let you leave me like this." You look down, trying to hide the tears forming in your eyes.

"Leave you?" He asked. "Why would I leave you?"

You look up, "Is that… not what you're here for?"

Akaashi blinks at you, opening his mouth as he tries to conjure the right words, "I'm not- I didn't come here to break up with you."

You sat up a little straighter, the tears in your eyes backtracking and retreating back into their ducts. "Then what are you here for?"

"To apologize." He said, "And to talk about what we want to do next - if anything, I've been anxious you'll break up with me." He turned back to the vegetables he was cutting, his eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to blink the forming tears away. And perhaps he is just as heart broken as you have been.

"I couldn't come yesterday because of the project so I wanted to make it up to you today. Then I heard you weren't eating well so I came late into the night yesterday as soon as I finished the project but well… you were already resting, I think." He said, "I'm sorry that I slept next to you last night, I know I didn't ask for your permission. I just- I just couldn't help it, I guess."

He chuckles. You watch him mess up a little as he wiped at his forehead - he's nervous. You've never seen him act like this before. He opens the stove and adds a slab of butter into a pan, letting it heat up for a bit before he adds cooked rice. It's followed by the vegetables he cut up. As he cooked, he said, "I wanted to make it up to you. Everything that I've been lacking and missing-"

"It wasn't your fault." Your mouth is quick to say it, even as your insides churn in glee as he begins to apologize.

"It was." He said, "I should've made some time for us, like you were doing. I'm sorry that I've been selfish for the past few months."

"You were chasing your dreams - who was I to stop you?" You asked.

He says your name. Softly. Gently. As if your name will break on his tongue if he says it any differently. "It's okay," he said, "I already know my faults. And besides… I don't want you to think there's something wrong with you or that I've fallen out of love with you or anything like that because I haven't."

He plates the fried rice, setting it on the counter. He breaks two eggs into a bowl, adding a little salt before beating it. 

What passes is a moment of silence. You watch, eyes trained on the fact that he is here - how many nights have you lain awake, wishing for the stars to bring him back to you?

You look down, there is a voice in your head that says you should break up with him - make him feel as desperate as you did, it said, hurt him as he has hurt you. And yet, you don't. Perhaps you love him too much to do so.

Sometimes love is letting go, the voice said, it questions you, what makes you think he won't just neglect you again? You are as expendable as the eggshells he broke and got rid off moments ago, what makes you think he will keep on loving you as he used to?

You play with your hands, heart beating a little quicker and harsher against the bones of your ribs. What if he finds someone else? It will hurt more if you continue, just leave now - that way it will hurt once then never again.

Do not tell me that he's worth it - do you even know if he still finds worth in you?

"I know I'm pretty late but if it's okay with you… do you think that maybe we could try again? I promise that I'll be better this time." He said, setting down the plate of food in front of you, freshly cooked, and looking delicious yet your stomach tightens and churns at the sight of it - perhaps it is not food you hungered for.

He unties his apron, hooking it on the rack again as he goes around the counter to step closer towards you. He speaks your name but his voice is muffled by your own heartbeat and suddenly, you feel frozen as you say on that seat. Doubt creeps and breathes onto your neck, raising goosebumps and fear of being left - Akaashi speaks your name again but the tremble of your heartbeat does not cease. In fact, it grows louder.

It is the first time you felt alone even while in his presence.

He will find someone to replace you, the voices said, look at him. Top of his class and soon to graduate, blessed with good looks and a nice voice - men and women will flock to him, do you think you'll stand a chance?

But he loves me, you think to yourself, Akaashi loves me.

But does he? Tell me. Does he really?

Your hands clench against each other, almost threatening to break your knuckles until Akaashi's hand covers your own. Your hold on yourself loosens a little. His hands move. The chair scrapes against the floor. Suddenly, his arms are around you.

"It's okay." He murmured, kissing the top of your head, "I'm right here. I'm not going to leave." It was as if he knew what was going on inside your head, as if he heard what doubt and anxiety had whispered into your ears. "It's okay, I've got you. Cry if you need to, I'll stay as long as you need me to."

The tears come like the makings of a waterfall, dripping from your eyes and down along your cheeks leaving tear tracks on your skin. 

"I'm sorry," you said, "I'm so sorry, I don't know why I'm crying I just-" Akaashi shakes his head, wiping at your tears as he gives you a small, worried smile.

"It's okay," he said, giving your temple a soft kiss, "It's going to be alright." He rubs your back as you let your tears fall. "I'm sorry, my dear," he murmurs, holding you a little tighter, "I didn't mean to make you feel abandoned."

You cling to him a little tighter, there is a silence in your head that threatens to break as soon as you unhold him so you let yourself unravel instead - perhaps, you will find solace in the sound of your own breaking. You spend what seemed to be a thousand years right there in his arms, but even that is not enough to fill your heart's chasm. 

Your hands feel weak even as they grip him tightly, you cannot help but cry as he carefully rubs your back. He treats you as if you would shatter right there in his hold should he touch you too roughly. You don’t know whether to hate or thank him for it.

After some time, you are able to tear yourself away from him, sniffling as you finally settle and slumped down on your seat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you with all of this.” You said.

Akaashi shook his head, gently placing a kiss on your tired knuckles again. “It’s fine, dear. It wasn’t your fault.” He smiles lightly against your skin, “Why don’t you eat for now? You’re probably still quite tired, so we can rest for a bit before talking about this again.”

You give him seconds of silence before you say, “Okay.”

He hands you the cutlery, watching with a soft smile on his face as he sees you smile slightly as you break the egg on top, watching the half-cooked yolk run along the fried rice. You give him a look, before pushing him lightly towards the container holding the cutleries. “Eat with me.” You say, “I won’t be able to finish it all.”

You pierce the heated piece of porkchop, bringing it to his lips as you say, “You need food, too.”

Akaashi sighs, before he eats it and gets his own spoon and fork. “As long as you eat well, as well.” He said, watching you eat a spoonful before he eats, too. He sits right next to you, silently eating, yet somehow making sure that you ate more than him.

“Let’s go out. On a date, I mean.” You said - impulsive and sudden.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“Yeah. We can drop by your dorm so you can change, then we can visit the park or something.”

Afterwards there is silence as you take a quick shower while he washed the dishes, but as you stand under the water, the soft warmth is not enough to comfort you. As soon as you are out of his reach, the whispering voices come back. He’s lying, it said, like the others did. You feel tears swell up from their coves again, your fingers twiddling with each other as you watch the soap suds get washed away by the running water.

He will leave when the time comes, maybe when you’re angry or while you argue, they say, so that he’s not the bad guy. Your hands claw at your arms again - ah, you should leave the shower soon. You should, you should. Yet your legs do not move. You feel stuck as the whispers turn to statements - he will leave again, until you understand what his leaving means and break it off with him. He doesn’t say it but he wants to be free of you.

So you ask yourself - what can you do to make him stay?

How can you convince him to stay? 

You look down at yourself, trying to ignore the forming lump in your throat.

Your throat constricts, you do not have words left to say other than your woes and you’re sure it will only push him away. What if he really leaves?

But what else is there to give?

A knock on the bathroom door snaps you away from falling deep into those thoughts again. Akaashi spoke your name before he said, “You should step out soon, you might get sick if you stay there for too long.”

You say that you’ll step out soon but your mind is still trying to think of something - of anything - that might convince him to stay. It was as if your mind had forgotten the words he uttered of not wanting to leave you, perhaps you have been feeling lonely for too long that you have begun to cling to a person who will not leave you.

Or perhaps you just don’t believe him and his words anymore.

You wrap a towel around yourself, holding it against your body as you step out. You open your closet, putting on your clothes and buttoning up your shirt only to hear your door open. Akaashi curses loudly as he fumbles with the doorknob, and as you turn to look at him, you see the way his eyes are cast downwards, cheeks flushed red and his hands trembling a little from the panic. You didn’t hear what he wanted to say - nor can you find it in yourself to care.

This.

You stride towards him, holding his wrists and you say, softly, “Don’t go.”

He hesitated in answering and you can’t help but pull him into your room, locking the door behind the two of you as you basically crowd him onto the bed. He falls on the mattress, settling to sit against the headboard, as if he wanted to run from you. You begin unbuttoning your clothes, letting it fall to your elbows as you shrug it off.

Perhaps if you can make him happy now, he will stay with you forever.

You see his flushed face as he tries to keep on looking away and you say - almost a demand - “Look at me, Keiji.” His blue eyes flicker towards you, blinking quickly as you step closer, crawling into bed and trapping him between your limbs. His breaths come quick and heavy - nervous and unsure.

You settle on his lap, hands moving upwards to thumb at the edges of his clothes.

You ask, “May I?”

He doesn't even let you do what you want.

He answered, soft sighed as he spoke, “No.”

“Oh.” You say softly. He doesn’t want you. “You don’t want me.” You look away. Your hands fall, but before they could fall onto your lap, his own hands have caught them and brought them to his lips.

“I do, my dear,” He murmurs, “Trust me when I say that I do want you.” His blue eyes look up at you, “But not like this.”

“Then how do you want me?” You asked, sounding hopeful - yet for the wrong thing.

Akaashi looks up at you, thumbing and grazing his touch along the edges of your eyes. “When you’re okay, then we can do this.” He said, “But not when you’re like this… not when we are like this. I don’t want our first to be so unromantic and sad.” He offers you a soft smile, “Why don’t we just watch a movie? Or would you prefer a short nap? We can cuddle, if you’d like.”

“But this is the only thing I haven’t given yet.” You say.

Akaashi makes you look at him, “You don’t need to. I will love you regardless.”

Ah. It is the first time you ever heard him say that, isn’t it?

You can’t stop the tears that fall from your eyes and you raise your hands to sob onto your palms as you feel your soul tremble at the mere utterance of how he loves you. He loves you. Akaashi Keiji loves you.

His gentle hands pry your hands away from your face, chuckling as he leans up to kiss your tears away. You sniffle - you don’t understand why you’re crying so much but at this point, does it even matter?

At some point, he has maneuvered you to lay on top of him, his arms wrapped around your waist as your hands grip at his clothes. Your legs are tangled with each other's, your ear against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

So… why?

"You won't leave me?" You ask.

His hands move to comb his fingers through your hair. He answers you, "Never."

"Are you sure? What if you find someone better?" You ask again. You close your eyes, exhausted from this day alone.

"That's impossible," he said simply, "There's no one in this world that equals you." He says it so seriously that you can't even remember what your doubts have whispered just an hour before.

"I love you." You say.

He responded, "I love you too."

Why him, of all people?

Years later and he kisses you at the altar, his hands cupping your cheeks as your lips meet for the billionth time.

He tastes as sweet as the first time.

In the after party, he holds your hand securely, intertwining your fingers and kissing you periodically. You giggle at this - it's one of the few times he was ever like this.

"You must've missed me a hundred times today." You say softly as you get ready for your honeymoon.

"I'll kiss you a hundred more tonight." He whispers back, smiling as you blush and push him away slightly.

"You're being stupid, Akaashi." You roll your eyes.

"Just for you, Akaashi." He winks, pulling away from you as he watches you blush a little deeper.

But then again, maybe the point isn't why but the fact that you do.

"Akana! Right here, c'mon!" You grin, clapping your hands as you cheer for your little daughter. Keiji is crouched down, bracing to catch her if she falls. Hikaru is standing on wobbly legs, holding onto your arms as he watches his twin sister take her first steps.

You hear the small patting of her feet against the hardwood floor. 

Finally, she reaches you just fine, her small hands clasping on your own as she smiles. You give her a big hug, grinning as Hikaru joins in. You carry Akana to the couch, your husband following suit as he carries Hikaru.

"They're growing up too quickly." You sniffle, bouncing Akana on your leg as Keiji sits beside you, letting Hikaru cling to him as he replies with a low chuckle. "What? You don't think they're growing quickly?"

"They're still toddlers. And besides, they'll probably stay with us until they're 18, calm down." He smiled, "Don't worry, you have a lot of time with them."

He leans forward and kisses your forehead. He pulls away, beginning to play with Hikaru as he smiles.

You watch him as you hold your daughter.

So this is what love is.

[punkrockmlchael]

12 Days of Gareth Emerson 2024- Day 4

Day 4: Tangled Christmas Lights [Gareth Emerson x GN!Reader]

Check out all the prompts and read all the other days here!

Warnings: Pure fluff, Pre-Established Relationship, Slight Swearing, Cranky Gareth (he’s a Grinch sometimes), Mentions of Sex but no actual smut, gn!reader, no use of pronouns

Synopsis: Decorating the house with Christmas lights can be a pain, somehow and in some way the lights always get tangled. This year is no different as Gareth gets stuck in the lights, literally.

Word Count: 700ish

-

“Perfect, looks like these all work too!” You smiled, plugging in the last strand of multi-colored Christmas lights. “That’s a first, we don’t need to buy any lights this year,” you nodded, looking at Gareth.

“You say that now,” he replied, gathering the lights up carefully. “But, somehow, I feel like we will still be buying something for outside.” He added as he walked towards the front door of the house.

You followed after him, holding more decorations that you wanted to place outside in the snow.

“Hey, at least it’s not freezing outside,” you smiled, opening the door for him.

“Yeah, yet,” he huffed, stepping onto the front porch.

“Oh, Gareth, why are you such a Grinch?” You asked, stepping down the three short steps as you walked into the yard, placing the metal snowman and gingerbread man in the yard.

“I am not a Grinch,” he argued, grabbing the staple gun in his hands as he started stapling the Christmas lights to the window frame carefully. “I am simply, just, not much of a decorator. I don’t see a point in decorating when all you do is take it down shortly after.” He added, adjusting the Christmas lights around the window.

“Because it looks pretty,” you giggled. “And, you look so hot when you’re standing on a ladder being my big, strong man,” you added, winking at him as you placed some more lawn ornaments in the yard.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” he sighed. “Make me do all the hard work because I look hot,” he added, stapling more lights to the house carefully. “You know, fuck,” he groaned, looking down at the lights.

He set the staple gun down and tried to fix the lights, groaning as they became tangled around him. “How does this always fucking happen?!” He shouted, twisting and turning his body to try to detangle the lights.

The lights, however, were just becoming more and more tangled around his body. So much so that he let out a small shriek, looking over at you. “Baby, help,” he pleaded, basically trapped in the Christmas lights.

You looked up at him from the front yard and giggled, walking towards him. “What on earth happened?” You asked, examining his predicament. He was bound tightly by the Christmas lights that were around his entire body. “Kinky,” you giggled, looking at him.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Baby, this isn’t funny. Please help me,” he argued, pulling on the lights to try to detangle them. Unfortunately, his movements made the lights become tighter around him. He whined, pouting like a child as he looked up at you.

You rolled your eyes, trying to untangle your boyfriend from the lights. “Gare, I literally have no idea how you got it this tangled. I even detangled them before we came outside,” you replied, searching the end of the lights.

“I blame you for this,” he said, a slight glare on his face as he tried to free his arms.

“You know what, I’ll leave you like this,” you threatened, taking a step back from him.

“No, baby, please,” he responded quickly. “Help,” he squeaked.

“Fine, but only if I can tie you up like this in the bedroom, you look hot,” you replied, moving your fingers along the strands of lights.

“We are not using Christmas lights in the bedroom, for Christ sake,” he huffed, watching you try to detangle him.

“We don’t have to use Christmas lights, we can use something else, Mr. Grinch.”

“Will you stop fucking calling me a Grinch?!” He groaned as you began to free his arms from the lights. “Do you have a thing for the Grinch?” He questioned, smirking as you freed his arms from the lights.

“No,” you argued, looking up at him. “I have a thing for you,” you said, detangling the lights from around his stomach. Once he was free he looked up at you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Fuck these lights, let me fuck you instead,” he grinned, kissing your lips softly. You sighed into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his torso.

“Can I tie you up?” You asked, giggling up at him.

“No, it’s your turn to be tied up,” he smirked, kissing you again.

[winchesterwild78]

Unexpected Hunter Pt 13

Unexpected Hunter Master List

Chapter Warnings: fluff, angst,SMUT, mention of pregnancy, language.

A/N: The ending is here. I hope I did it justice. We will see if our love birds stay together or split. I edited this fast so please overlook any mistakes

All work is my own, don’t take it

18+ Minors DNI

*************************************************

“Always keep fighting” that’s what Sam said to you, Dean and Eileen. It’s a wonderful concept for many aspects in your life. Through tough spots in relationships, tough days as a parent, through dark mental health days, and of course in the hunting life. You knew being married and loving Dean came with its own unique risks. You were content and even a little naive living the apple pie life with him and your children.

Now with three children at your feet the need to protect became overwhelming after the latest attack. You gave birth shortly after the attack. You had a little boy you and Dean named Jack Castiel Winchester. He was a perfect mix of you and Dean. You were a little surprised to see he had your y/e/c eyes and not Dean’s green eyes. The twins had his green eyes so you assumed Jack would too. It was a wonderful surprise.

After Jack was born, the decision was made to move your family and Sam’s back in the bunker. It wasn’t an easy decision and there were countless arguments between you and Dean and just as many sleepless nights and tears shed. You finally gave in and started to make the bunker your home again. The twins were still young enough they wanted to share a room and baby Jack had his own nursery. You and Dean moved back into your old room and Sam and Eileen moved back into his. Their son also had his own room and there was a nursery set up for Sam and Eileen’s baby girl who was due to arrive in a few short months.

You were all one big family under one safe roof. The adjustment wasn’t too hard for the kids but it was hard on you. You loved having windows you could open and a fenced yard to play outside with the kids in. Now the windowless bunker was your home again. You did your best to put on a smile. You knew this was hard on Dean. You also knew once you all got settled the guys would go hunting again. That scared you more than anything.

You were standing in the kitchen cooking when Eileen came in. She tapped you and signed “are you okay”. You nodded yes. She tapped you and said tell the truth. Tears pricked your eyes and she hugged you. You signed to her “I’m scared. I’m scared I’m going to lose him. We were out and happy. Now here we are again. I don’t want to live here but I’ll do whatever I can to make him happy. He deserves everything and I plan to give it to him.” Eileen hugged you and signed “you’ve given him 3 beautiful children and unconditional love. He has everything.”

You wiped the tears from your eyes and turned back to the stove. Eileen helped prep the rest of dinner. You heard baby Jack crying and then Dean say he’s got him.

Dean walked in the kitchen holding your son. He looked at you and saw you had been crying. You turned your back to him trying to hide it. “Hey baby, you okay” he asked concerned. You shook your head yes and kept cooking. He touched your shoulder and tried to get you to look at him. You refused to look. Eileen came over and signed to him “talk to her. She’s scared and sad. Let me take Jack.” Dean handed Jack to her with his bottle and thanked her. She smiled softly and left the room. Dean walked over to you and turned you around. Tears streaming down your face.

“Oh baby, please talk to me. What’s wrong” he said wiping away tears. You cried harder. How could you tell him how unhappy you were when he’s just trying to protect you and your children. Dean held you in his arms and you cried into his chest. He rubbed your back trying to help you calm down. You took a deep shaky breath and looked into his beautiful green eyes. “I’m sorry Dean. I’m trying to be happy with being back. I just miss our house and the yard for the kids. I feel trapped and I’m terrified you’re going to go on a hunt and not come home. We left hunting for our family and damn it we came back to protect them. It’s not fucking fair. Our children deserve a normal childhood. Something you never got. I understand this is all you’ve known, but that’s not true for me. I’m sorry.” You sat down and sobbed.

Dean held you and sighed. “I know baby. This isn’t the life I promised you. I just want to make sure you and our children are safe. After the attack at the house it scared me. You being pregnant with Jack and Bobby and Jodi being so young it scared the hell out of me. I need to keep you four safe. You are my life and I couldn’t deal if something happened to either of you.” He kissed your head.

You whispered “I know. I just need some time to adjust to this life again. I felt safe and happy. Then we got pregnant and I felt like our family was complete and we were going to raise them in that house. Living that apple pie life. I just have to mourn the loss of that life. I love you Dean and I’ll follow you wherever you go. We are a family and we stay together.”

Dean held you and apologized for all of this. He was torn between wanting to protect you four the best way he knew how and making you happy with giving you the life you deserved and wanted. He didn’t know what to do. You stood up and leaned down kissing him. “I love you, Dean. I always will and we will figure this out.” You squeezed his hand as you returned to the stove.

Dean sat at the table for a few more minutes running his hands through his hair. He stood up and walked out of the kitchen. You sighed as you felt the tension in the air. Dean found Sam in the library and he sat down across from him and sighed. “Dude, you okay” Sam questioned. “No I’m not. She’s so unhappy Sam. I want to protect her and the kids but I want her to be happy too. I don’t know what to do. Did we jump the gun moving back here” Dean asked. “No, I don’t think so. We have our wives and children to think of. The bunker is the safest place for all of us. If we go on a hunt we will take the same precautions we took before. Even if we decide not to go on hunts we still have to keep them safe. Too many monsters know who we are and they know we have children. Unfortunately they were all born with targets on their backs. Regardless of where we live, their safety is the priority.” Sam said.

You walked out of the kitchen to tell the guys dinner was ready and you stopped at the doorway when you heard Sam and Dean talking. You heard Sam and he’s right. Your children have targets on their backs because of who their parents are. You sighed and walked in the library. You looked at Dean and gave him a soft, sad smile. Sam stood and walked over to you. He squeezed your shoulder “it’s going to be okay. I know it’s hard, but you and my brother have an amazing relationship. Just keep being open and honest with him. He loves you so much. Everything he’s ever done, even the stupid stuff has been out of love.” You nodded and whispered thank you. You told them dinner was ready and Sam offered to get all the kids in the kitchen.

Dean stood and walked over to you. You put your arms around him and hugged him tight. He grabbed you tighter and pulled you close to his body. Dean’s touch could always ignite a fire inside you and he knew it. He lifted your chin and his lips brushed softly against yours. You felt his breath on your lips. As he placed a soft kiss on your lips he whispered “I love you so much and you’ve given me everything I wished for. A beautiful wife and three beautiful children. It’s more than I deserve and I can’t lose it.” No more words were needed. He ran his hands in your hair and deepened the kiss. You melted at his touch and moaned into his mouth.

You felt his desire and his hardness push against your body.

You bit your lip as he pulled away. His hands started trailing up your body and under your shirt. As he cupped your breasts your head leaned back with a moan. Dean smiled and pulled your hand towards your shared room. As he pulled you inside you tried to protest “Dean we have to feed the kids, we can’t.” “Sammy’s got them. Didn’t you hear him. We’ve got some time” he said as he pushed the door shut and locked it.

Once he locked the door his hands were on you again. He kissed your lips and worked his way down your neck and to your collarbone. You moaned and your thighs clenched. Dean walked you back to the bed and laid you down. His hand pulling at the hem of your shirt. You moaned as his hands danced over your covered breasts. He pulled out your breast. Licking and sucking your nipple. Causing you to moan louder. You felt his desire building as he pressed his hard cock to your leg.

He removed your shirt and bra then kissed down your naked torso to your pants. He looked up at you through lidded eyes and you nodded. Granting him permission to remove your pants. He pulled them and your panties off in one pull. Causing you to giggle. Dean pulled his shirt off with one hand and removed his pants and boxers.

His hard cock springing free. The pink head was covered in pre-cum. You leaned forward and licked it off causing him to moan. You smirked as you leaned back. Dean spread your legs and placed kisses up your thighs and used his fingers to part your folds. You desire dripping. He bit his bottom lip and whispered “damn sweetheart” as he took his fingers and inserted them. You gasped as he hooked his fingers up.

Dean knew your sweet spot and started working you towards your release. You moaned into his mouth when he kissed you and when he worked his down to your breasts you threw your head back and bit your lip trying to stifle the sounds. “Dean I’m gonna cum baby.” “Cum for me baby” he said as he sped up his fingers pumping in and out and rubbing your swollen clit. You hit your release and came hard. Stifling a scream.

As you were coming down Dean placed kisses up your body to your lips. The kiss grew deeper and you both moaned. Dean leaned back and positioned himself between your legs. He pumped his length a few times before running his cock head over your sensitive opening. You gasped and bit your lip.

Dean smirked. “Please Dean” you begged. “Please what, use your words sweetheart” he said with a smirk. “Please make love to me. I need you” you whispered. Dean was never one to “make love” he was more of a fuck them hard and get out before any feelings were caught. He was an incredible giving lover, but he knew the difference between fucking and making love.

With you, he was slow and deliberate. He loved you and it showed in and out of the bedroom. Dean slowly pushed in. You both moaned and gasped at the feeling. Once he bottomed out he stayed still. His forehead resting on yours. Then he started to move.

The sweet symphony of the rhythm of your bodies and the sounds of pleasure filled the room. Your legs wrapped around your husband’s hips as his body pushed into yours. Your hands ran up and down his firm biceps. He captured your lips with his and you felt all your worries and fears melt away. Dean began moaning your name and it turned you on more. His need for pleasure, and closeness to you started to overwhelm him. You felt his pace get faster.

Your eyes went wide. Not because of pain but because of the sheer amount of pleasure you were feeling. Dean Winchester was tall, handsome and incredibly gifted in every part of his body. You moved your hips encouraging him to move faster. He growled as you smirked. He kissed you hard and his pace grew along with your arousal.

“Dean, fuck me baby. Fuck me into this mattress.” He groaned and grabbed your hips flipping you over on your stomach. You giggled as you wiggled your ass in the air. That earned you a smack on your right ass cheek. You yelped with pleasure and got on your knees. Dean lined up to your entrance again. This time he pushed in causing you to jolt forward on the bed. You were on your hands and knees as your husband fucked you from behind. He grabbed your hair and pulled your back up flush with his chest. He took his free hand and cupped your breast while kissing your neck. You moaned loudly.

He pushed you gently forward and dug into your hips as he set a faster pace. You took your hand and started chasing your second release. Your body responded to Dean’s touch and it wasn’t long before you felt your coil tighten in your stomach. “Dean, I’m gonna cum again. Oh shit!” You shouted. “Me too baby. Oh fuck!” He grunted as he spilled his seed deep inside your pussy. As he came so did you. Your walls milking his cock of every drop of cum.

Both of you collapsed on the bed and fell into each other’s arms. You snuggled into his chest and he held you tight. He placed a soft his on the top of your head then on your forehead. You smiled softly. He pulled away to grab a washcloth to clean you both up.

When the two of you were clean he laid back down. You sighed. It was half content and half I need to talk to you but not sure how to do that. “What’s on your mind sweetheart” Dean asked. You swallowed hard and took a deep breath sitting up. “I love you with all of my heart, I’m thankful every day for our 3 beautiful, healthy children. I appreciate you being willing to give me the apple pie life I, no we, so desperately wanted. I’m so sorry I’ve made your life harder since we moved back in here. I can’t imagine how hard the decision was for you. I know you Dean. I know you always put everyone first and you’re in a constant state of protection. That’s one of your amazing qualities. You protect those you love. I want you to know I understand why we had to move back. Some of our happiest moments were shared here. We can make this a home, our home. Sure it doesn’t have windows or a white fence, but it has something better. It has love and family. So, let’s do this together. Our family, and Sam’s family. All living here, protecting each other and raising our children together. This is what life is about anyway. Family and the love between them. I love you Dean Winchester and I’ll gladly stand by your side for the rest of my life.”

Dean leaned over and cupped your face. Placing a soft kiss on your lips. “I love you too Y/N Winchester. As long as we have each other we have it all. Thank you for being willing to do this with me. Together, side by side we will Always Keep Fighting.”

The End

Tags: @nescaveckdaily @kr804573 @k-slla @jackles010378 @jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @roseblue373 @cheynovak

[circusgoth-dotcom]

Guardian Angel

Ship: Eric Draven x Gilmour Enix

Word Count: 923

Summary: Yayyy first Eric fic!! Gil keeps encountering a mysterious but well-meaning stranger. Tonight, they spend significant time together. CWs for food mentions, brief death mention, brief implied suggestiveness.

Tag List: @canongf @futurewife @knightfallships

Gil was in the usual place he could be expected on a Friday evening— the cramped, smoky lobby of the Bronze Inn. It was an apartment complex before the rent got too high, then it ironically became a budget hotel. He looked at the digital clock beside the register. 7:34pm shone solidly back at him. Above his head, two tenants slept. A third, whose exit date was rapidly approaching, hadn’t been seen since they entered.

Gil ruled that they were, realistically, dead, but he wasn’t about to go up there and find out. They were just about to call it a night when the door creaked open, letting in a gust of freezing rain.

“How many nights?” It asked without looking up from their magazine.

“Just the one, I think.”

Their gaze flicked up. Past their spotty glasses, they caught a familiar glimpse. He straightened up and cleared his throat. “Have you been following me?”

The man who had entered smiled behind his pale facepaint. “Ever heard of coincidence?”

Gil hummed. “Too much coincidence and I think they call it intentional. Who are you?”

The man half-bowed. “Simply a travelling showman, my good sir.”

“Yeah, right.” His stomach growled and he sighed, rubbing his face underneath his glasses.

“Why don’t we ditch this place and fill up the fuel tank?”

They looked around. “Well… alright.” They bent down and retrieved a folded sign from under the desk, placing it on top. Gone on Smoke Break- Clerk Will Return Shortly. He then grabbed his coat and came up beside the stranger. “Beats sleeping on an empty stomach.”

The stranger gave him a sympathetic look as they set out into the dreary night. Gil pulled up his hood, following the dark-haired man to what was essentially a shack on a corner. It had a large window open to the street and a counter where customers could sit. Inside, it was as if someone had carved a kitchen out of a more traditional restaurant and plopped it on the side of the road. The sign on top of the shack read Maxi-Dogs. Gil ordered a cheeseburger and a cherry cola, happy to fill his ornery stomach.

“You’re not going to get anything?” He asked of the stranger, who put his hand up dismissively.

“I already ate. And don’t worry about paying, it’s on me.”

Gil couldn’t help but still feel cynical. He sighed and set down his sandwich. “Alright, what is it that you want?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re being awfully cordial to me… trust me, I’m just a bellhop. I don’t do any of that backdoor stuff…”

The stranger frowned, putting a firm but comforting hand on Gil’s arm. “Hey. I’m not that kind of guy. I promise.” His tone was soft and insistent, his gaze painfully sincere. Quietly, they went back to eating. “Do they still show movies in this dump?” The stranger continued when they were finished.

“Theater’s been closed for years, stranger,” Gil almost chuckled. “Do you live under a rock?”

He smiled. “Something like that. Well, come on.”

Before Gil could ask what he was up to, they were being led away from the food stall. As the rain grew heavier, Gil let the man rush him to the old abandoned theater.

“I told you, it’s closed!” Gil shouted over the downpour. He watched the man climb a ladder on the side of the building before forcing open a nearby window. He waved them inside and they sighed, following him and landing in a dark projector room. As their eyes adjusted to the lack of light, they saw the stranger digging through a box of film. “You know, I’ve got to get back to work at some point… I’m the only one there tonight, and I only get a few hours of sleep as it is.”

“I’ll pick a short one. It’ll be good for you.”

Gil gave him a questioning look he couldn’t have seen in the shadows. “I’ll find us some seats,” it sighed, blindly leaving the room. As it felt around, it tried to wrack its brain on if it knew the man it’d spent the evening with. Other than seeing him around before and having the briefest of interactions, it knew nothing about him. He seemed strangely kind for the world Gil lived in. It was hard to believe it was at all genuine. The screen suddenly flickered to life as the stranger wiped dust and cobwebs away from the projector’s lens. He joined them shortly in a back row as a Pop-Eye film began to play. Gil pushed back his hood.

“Can’t believe this all still works… too bad the speakers aren’t hooked up,” they commented after a beat. They then looked to the stranger. “Can’t you at least tell me your name, if you aren’t going to tell me why you’re so interested in me?”

The stranger hesitated, eyes locked on the screen, his jaw slightly slanted. Finally, he looked at them, again with those purely dutiful eyes. “It’s Eric. And I’m interested in you because you’re… special.”

“Eric,” Gil repeated. They both redirected their attention to the silent animation. As it went on, Gil felt exhaustion settling in their body, their vision blurring as they struggled to keep their eyes open. Giving in, they found themself leaning against Eric’s shoulder.

“You can close your eyes, Starchild… I’ve got you.” Eric spoke softly, then looked up as his raven friend flew in through the open window. “Let’s make sure he gets home safe.”