#like damn I’d rather you have gotten me nothing at all

[deityofhearts]

I maintain that the worst birthday gift I’ve ever received was from my aunt and uncle who on the day of my birthday were driving me home and stopped at the local hallmark store while I was told to sit in the car and then when we arrived at my home presented me with a card, a tiny santa clause shaped chocolate bar and a little charm with a “P” on it as my gift, things that they so very clearly got from the hallmark store while I sat in the car

[ajortga]

competition

pairing: slytherin!toxic!jenna ortega x ravenclaw!fem reader

summary: jenna loves to joke around, you both know it. as she gets braver and braver with her jokes, it comes with a price, eventually hurting you and taking away something you loved most.

warnings: slight angst, teasing remarks, heavy makeout scene, rushed ending, enemies to lovers

word count: 5.2k+

based off request!

-

Jenna criticizes literally everything about R's performance (J's an ass here 😓), while R is actually starting to get really pressured, J would always have something to say, thennn R gets tired of J's bs and begins focusing on themselves more, which would lead to R ignoring J for atleast a month or two, obviously J's pride is awfully. THEN J CONFESSES TO HER FRIEND, (how inlove she is w R and how she misses R sm) WITHOUT KNOWING THAT R IS NEARBY, OVERHEARING EVERYTHING. 😍😍 A DAY AFTER... R JUST TAKES J IN A PRIVATE ROOM AND KISSING TF OUTTA HER.

Slytherin Jenna! x Ravenclaw R!

-

Your test paper gets put on your desk, your teacher murmuring a small, “I expected better, Y/N.”

There was a 65% circled in red and it made you sick to your stomach, you had never gotten a low score before, especially in potions. You knew your concoctions and effects, you swear you had mixed everything perfectly. You groan in frustration, cursing to yourself.

Your hand scrunches, breathing in deeply as you ruffle your hair, now hearing the voice of the person you would rather befriend a frog with and use them first as a sacrifice for a blood sucking demon. 

“How can someone fail a potions exam? You managed to get first place for being the biggest dweeb, messing up the easiest class.” Jenna slightly smirks, teasingly as she approaches you and whispers sharply in your ear, your eyes glaring at her. “It’s impressive you didn’t notice a small switch of potions. All I did was switch the labels of the potions which had the same color and you didn’t even notice.”

Of course she switched up the potions to set you up for failing, “You know how important this is to me.”

“Aw.. I’m so sorry Y/N,” she mocks, “What a pity.” She pouts, “I don’t care.”

You want to smack her in the face, maybe throw that explosive potion you made to melt off her face, but you don’t. At this point you’re thinking of something to get her back, packing your spell books.

“I swear she won’t get off my shoulders, I haven’t done a single damn thing to Ortega.”

Emma laughs, nudging you, “Maybe she just likes teasing someone sweet like you.”

An annoyed exhale leaves your lips, not knowing what she meant by that, “Well she better stop it,” you grab your broom stick. 

Your friend thinks a little, “Just put a small spell on her broomstick! Nothing, you know, to make her hurt, just maybe throw her off balance.”

That interests you, you're trying to think of a sparkle you could just add onto hers. You notice she hasn’t gone to class yet and clearly you can see the large stick hidden between her name. As you approach, your fingers touch the stick, feeling the way your body immediately focuses, then you pull your finger away to go back to Emma. You feel like you shouldn’t, but you don’t feel a single ounce of guilt as a smirk forms when you reach her.

“Come on,” you urge, taking Emma’s hand as you make your way outside with your broom sticks. 

You use your right hand, grabbing it forward as Mrs. Hooch stays on the side, watching. You’ve all gotten the hang of it either way, it’s rare for some people to fall.

“Up!” Emma and you say in unison, seeing your sticks fly up as you smile at each other and hop on, ready for a flight.

You giggle, feeling yourself ascend. 

“Y/L/N,” You hear Jenna’s voice behind you, making your figure turn to face her. You see her stiffen. 

Emma gives you a look, cunning. 

“Ortega,” you greet, not so politely, but not rude nonetheless. 

“I’d challenge you to a racing match, but I do know that your ass is scared that I’ll beat and outrun you in seconds.”

You give out a snarky laugh, “I highly doubt you could even reach me by the time I ascend. I’m better at you than flying, we both know that.”

Jenna does know that, sort of. And she doesn’t want you to prove it, not during flight class while everyone is watching.

“Unless you’ve changed your mind and don’t want to challenge me, niñita,” you respond again, seeing the way Jenna was thinking.

“Then I challenge you,”

“And I accept.”

Emma nudges you, you hear her whisper in your ear, “Well, she’d probably complain, you did sort of spell her broom and she’d notice as soon as she’d get on.”

A grin forms on your lips, tearing your eyes from the tiny Jenna, “Well, I spelled it so that if Jenna were to try anything, cause that’s the bitch she is, the spell would take effect. I’m not entirely making myself win at all. I know for a fact she’d try to make me loose, she doesn’t want to lose at all, well at least to me. I know her long enough to know she’d put a spell to make me lose balance, Em.”

You see Hooch in the corner of your eye, “Plus, Hooch is watching everything, and because I spelled her broom before hand, nothing will happen until she aims some spell at me. Hooch will see that, or at least a little sparkle and chant of words. But she won’t see mine, since I spelled it before, and she’ll just think Jenna lost her balance trying to spell me.”

Emma looks at you, not knowing if you should go on.

“Em! Seriously, Jenna has been making me miserable this year, and I haven’t done anything. This is just a playful harmless thing. It’s the least I can do. I could’ve spawned a rat in her dorm that follows her everywhere!”

“Go, I sort of want to see her fall.”

The grin that disappeared forms again, winking at her as you hop back on your broom.

Then you two are off.

-

You rush through the field, feeling the wind blow through your hair. You loved feeling that cool breeze, it’s unreal, flying is your favorite thing to do.

Jennas not far behind, but far enough to know that you’ll win. 

She groans to herself, watching your pretty, she meant nasty figure speed ahead.

The brunette’s eyes narrow, she wasn’t going to let you win without a fight, she focuses on your broom, she’s close enough to do something. 

The wind is making your hair go crazy, but in a good way. Everyone is waiting their turn from below, watching you race through the course. Fast enough to feel their hair blow from your swiftness.

An exhale pasts her lips, you can see her trying to come closer, or almost urging you to slow down. But you don’t, of course you won’t. You speed faster, dodging an incoming tree and turning a corner.

Jenna feels blood rushing through her ears, murmuring something under her breath as she gets ready to swish through you and laugh.

She begins the spell, feeling her fingertips slightly tingle. But as soon as she’s about to shoot a spark, her hands let go and she sees the blue flying spark stumble towards you. Instead of it hitting your broom and making it shake, your hair flies through the wind and it shoots back at her. 

Jenna yelps, feeling the way her broom starts to shake.

Emma giggles from the sidelines, as soon as you pass the blonde’s figure, you send her a thumbs up and a knowing wink.

God finally.

The brunette loses her balance, feeling the broom shake left and right, she’s clinging onto it tightly, smacks her head on loose branches. She feels herself slow down to regain a steady pace, but as she speeds up again, you’re already gone, swerving a corner.

-

The tiny brunette grumbles from the benches, watching you smile and jump up and down. 

“Impressive play out there, Y/N. You just might be our best flier out there, keep your swift performance and you’ll be on for Quidditch.”

You already knew you’d win, even if Jenna hit your broom with her spell. You’ve won every time racing against the class.

You approach her, giving her a half-hearted smile, you’d take it as a smirk.

“Well, someone tried to cheat.”

You hear her huff, and it makes you giggle, you brush off the stick that is stuck in her hair.

-

“I regret doing that, Em, that tiny tiny 3 foot 1 foot cockroach is making me fall into her traps,” you murmur, stomping your foot.

“At least you got a taste of revenge, Y/N.” 

“I guess so,” you say, sinking into your seat, you feel yourself begin to find her playful and harmless banters to be stressful by every joke and scandal that girl plays.

-

As Quidditch season approaches, Jenna swipes her hair to the side, tying it up as you watch her with narrow eyes. It’s just a regular racing match this time. No ball. Just two talented people against each other.

Well, one more talented than the other, you think to yourself

Hooch brings you two together, in which you stare each other down, your gaze not faltering on each other.

“Goodluck, I wish you two a fair match.”

You two shake hands, though you both won’t admit it was a genuine one. You give Jenna a final glare before gazing back at the field, focusing. 

“Ready?” Hooch says, you don’t respond, just a subtle nod.

“And.. Up!”

You and Jenna shout at your brooms.

“Up!” you command, seeing your favorite item fly up, you jump on it.

Then you both swing off.

Again, not long after, does Hooch see the way your practicing and after school matches with friends are working well. You’re much farther than Jenna is, and again, it’s like no other match. But this time Jenna isn’t going to let you win again.

She growls, casting spells onto your broom and immediately, you feel your broom slow down.

“What the hell.” You mutter to yourself, you dive down. But it seems like your broom isn’t listening.

It’s swishing up and down, left to right, and you steady yourself, but you’re shaking.

You're swinging back and forth and you're losing control, you can’t make your broom stop. It’s not like just a shake of your broom and you lose balance before catching yourself, this time it’s worse. Your broom isn’t listening.

You scream to yourself, not too loud. But Mrs. Hooch can see the way Jenna is catching up, she knows Jenna did something, but it’s not looking good. Sure playful banters were okay. 

But instead of dodging a tree, you smack your head straight into the leafiness, feeling the thorns of the leaves sink and cut beneath your eye. Jenna swishes through you, not looking back. The pain immediately comes through, harsh stings roaring through your skin. You cry out, completely losing balance on your broom, crashing into the tree harshly and feeling your head bang into the wood. 

Jenna still hasn’t noticed the damage she’s caused.

You feel yourself fall.

Farther and farther.

Till your body crashes down on the grassy field, your bones from the fall aren’t helping. You hear the way they crack. And then you feel warm blood trickling down your forehead and down from the cut on your eye. You whimper.

Black spots invade your vision and you feel carsick. But you know you’re not in a car.

Your eyes flutter, making a soft groan as Emma approaches you. You can barely see her worried face but you know she’s scared.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” She says, it’s muffled. You don’t respond, her figure is blurry, you can barely see her blue eyes.

Before you can even think of a response, your eyes shut.

And as Jenna reaches the finish line, she just turns around, to notice you at least tens of feet below from her, collapsed on the ground and curled up. She can’t help but feel a gasp fall from her lips, diving down and getting off her broom stick.

She didn’t mean for it to get this chaotic, she was just hoping you’d crash into a branch and get all angry and fussy. Not get hurt. As she approaches closer, she sees blood trickling down your face as your chest heaves up and down. Emma looks at you, worriedly as everyone surrounds you two.

Jenna feels something that she doesn’t want to admit, she feels guilty for hurting you. You had barely done anything to her, but she’s messed with you countless times, you’ve gotten in trouble for it.

And you never ratted her out. The one time you decide to get her back, she’s taken things too far.

“God,” she murmurs, her voice betraying her as she pushes through the crowds of people, “Is she okay?”

The way her friend turns to her, your best friend looks like she’s about to explode, “Does she look okay? DOES SHE LOOK OKAY JENNA? What the hell were you thinking?” the blonde says the last part half aloud, where only Ortega can hear.

“I didn’t think she’d get hurt!” Jenna retorts, kneeling down and putting her hesitant hand over your chest, feeling the way it was beating quickly, chest going up and down, up down.

Immediately nurses come and drag you out, Emma following you as they take you to the infirmary. 

Jenna feels herself following too, until Hooch catches up with her.

“Ortega!” Her voice is loud, screeching as she pulls Jenna off to the side, “what on earth do you think you were doing? You’ve gotten Y/N seriously hurt because of a stupid practice match! Don’t think I didn’t catch the lame spell you’ve cast.” her eyes are wild, angry, “You know we don’t allow spells on the battlefield, I know some of Hogwarts students have broken it, but it’s never been so severe, you’ve hurt her tremendously. She’s bleeding, and I think she’ll suffer some sprains.”

Jenna nods, she understands. Sort of. She wants to understand, she knows what she did was bad. Hooch takes a deep breath, “I’m disappointed with you.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t know if Y/N will heal in three months, she’s been our best and fastest player, with quick decisions and speedy moves. She might have to sit out on Quidditch, I was looking forward to taking the trophy this season. And I would disqualify you, send you to detention after school everyday till she properly heals,” Hooch takes a deep breath, “But you have to be one of our players because you have the ability to. That doesn’t mean that you won’t get detention. I’ll even ask Dumbledore to exclude you from house games.

God, Jenna didn’t mean to make you be kicked out this season. She knew how much you wanted it. She can’t help but feel guilty.

Hooch’s voice once again speaks up, “And I expect you to apologize and pay her a visit. You two have never gotten along, but I know you both care about each other. Even if it’s slight.”

A soft nod leaves her, her eyes lingering on your small figure that is now being taken to surgery. Maybe she’ll slow down with the pranks.

-

As soon as visitors are allowed in, Jenna begins to stand up and approach your door.

“Ortega, what the hell do you think you’re doing? Don’t open that door,” it’s Emma's voice, but this time she sounds much more angry. Unlike the voice the brunette is used to hearing.

The way Jenna stands there, Emma narrows her eyes, “You’ve already hurt her, what more can you need? Unplug the oxygen tank and start laughing your stubborn ass up? I don’t think so.” 

She was taken by surprise, the fact that both you and Emma have gotten used to her tricks, she feels herself biting her lip.

“N-no.. No, not anything like that. I just wanted to apologize. I know my tricks have gone a bit farther than expected.”

Emma approaches her, pressing her finger to Jenna’s chest, “You’ve hurt her more than enough, and I can see it. She’s done nothing to you! Nothing!” your best friend growls, and Jenna backs up.

“You just don’t understand how much you’ve pressured her! Because you’re too busy standing there like the spoiled person you are on your banters.”

Jenna smacks her hands off, raising both of her hands to show she’s ‘surrendering,’ “I know, I know Em! Just let me apologize.”

“Not when she’s just about to wake up, you wouldn’t want the least expected person who hurt you to show up as soon as you wake up. Give her time,” the blonde grumbles, shushing her back to her seat as she enters your room. Jenna stands up again, noticing you're still unconscious.

Emma can feel her presence, and decides not to turn back as she sits on the chair next to you. Your face lost its color. None of the pink shade that tinted your cheeks when Jenna teased you. The pink shade that she wanted to see was gone, replaced by a pale, tired face, sound asleep. 

There were cuts all over you, she saw some bruises and there was a big bandage wrapped around your right cheek. She also saw a deep cut that was gauzed up in your arm. She winced. A few broken bones maybe.

She didn’t know it was this bad. The only noise was Emma’s sniffles, and the small beep of your heartbeat’s monitor. Jenna sighs, scooting closer and hesitantly bringing her hand close to your face. She felt like if she were to touch you, you would turn into dust. 

Her hand gently traces your fast, your nose slightly twitches, but she knows you’re too weak to move or wake up. Then she brushes through your hair, it’s weird beginning to see all the times she’s treated you wrongly as something she shouldn’t have done. Each trick got worse than the other, more risky of being harmed. And now look at you, all broken and bruised.

I didn’t mean it, Jenna thinks, looking down at your tiny figure.

I really didn’t mean it.

-

Your eyes flutter closed, and immediately you close them again, groaning from the whitest most lightest light you’ve ever encountered, covering yourself with a blanket. As soon as you move, you moan softly in pain, feeling pain roar through your body.

“Stay still,” you hear a familiar voice say, you can’t lend your finger on it. It sounds pretty, and before you can process it your brain switches that thought off. It’s your annoying rival that casted a spell that got you here in the first place. Jenna stupid Ortega.

You grunt, looking up at her, you feel bandages around you, avoiding contact with the brunette.

“Emma should be back soon, she was getting some flowers for you.”

“Good, then you can leave.”

Harsh.

You hear the way Jenna sighs, and you shake it off, turning slightly so you can face the entertaining wall instead of her.

“Look Y/N, I’m sorry.”

..

“Please, can’t you see I’m apologizing?”

“No, Jenna. You knew I didn’t like these things you did to me before. And you decide to apologize now? Do you think it’s going to make me forgive you just like that?” You say, turning back at her, a storm brews behind your eyes.

“I can’t participate in the one thing I was looking forward to this season! Just because you put this spell that you knew could harm me badly! You knew I wanted to be in Quidditch!” Jenna winces at your increasing voice.

“You could’ve been on the team too! It’s not just one of us! But you got your actions in the way before you could even think! And now you want to apologize?” It's loud, your voice begins to falter a little. Your shoulders untense, and Jenna can hear the monitor of your heart increase by four times, she shushes you, pulling you onto your back.

“Stop,” she says, her voice is too soft for your liking, you can’t think. Too much is going on in your mind, “Please.”

“Get out Jenna.”

“W-what? You don’t understand.. I’m trying to-”

“Jenna, get the hell out!” You snap, your eyes filled to the max with unshed tears.

You stay silent, before cracking out a tiny, “Please.”

And like that, Jenna walks out of the room, murmuring an “I’m sorry.”

Just this time, she really wanted you to know that she meant it.

-

It’s been a month, and by now your arm was barely healing, and there was a stupid ugly mark of a cut on your face. The pain was harsh, if your arm didn’t heal by the time Quidditch began, all your practice and effort would flush down the drain. It scared you.

As bad as the pain got, your mark would probably never fade, there would always be a purple cut marked under your eye. Even once it’s completely healed, ones that meet you will notice your cut, in a lighter shade than your actual skin tone. It made you cry every night, silently. 

It was stupid to cry over, your deep bruises weren’t even close to healing. Every time you would accidentally press into it, you’d shriek in pain. You felt insecure of yourself. It didn’t feel good, every time you’d look at yourself in the mirror there would be your healing cuts scarred over your body. 

“It looks s-so ugly..” You hiccup, looking at yourself in the mirror, Emma by your side as she shakes her head, “Nonsense, it’s okay.”

“It might never go away.” 

“And that’s okay, when you're older, you’ll find it silly, I promise. It’s a reminder of being here, and to remind you that competition is less superior when it comes to safety.”

You can’t help but feel yourself shrink, watching the scar on your face haunt you.

-

Jenna sees you in the hallways, you're in half her classes. But every single time she looks at you, you’re never looking her way. Not like before. Not when exam scores are passed out during Snape or McGonagall when you usually turn around and she waves her high score in the air, but you always wave yours back, grinning happily when you got one percent higher than her. She found you annoying, but now she feels like she’s taken you for granted. You were the one who taught her how to properly care for her plant in Herbology, although most of the time she’s retained information from the random songs and joking nerdy remarks. 

Jenna hated sitting next to you in that class, she loved teasing you and making you explode from frustration. She hated the way you looked at her and had the ability to somehow use some Hogwarts nonsense to make her think back at your smile. 

It was something you did to her, it couldn’t have been herself, she’d never be thinking of your smile or you in general. You must’ve casted a spell on her.

Yet she remembers that she’s thinking about you right now. 

Anyways, she hated the way you smirked at her and kept kicking your feet to hers, then growing some mushroom on her damn shoe.

“What the fuck Y/N? Why is there a green toadstool on my fucking foot?” She says, angrily as you laugh and fall out of your seat. She tries shaking off the small mushroom with her foot, but then it makes it grow even bigger.

And by the end of the day there is a 20 foot mushroom on her shoe, shading her as she walks home, heading straight for the knife to cut it off. 

The thought made her smile a bit. She didn’t want to admit it, she didn’t know how you did it. Or maybe when she kept tapping her pen to purposely annoy you, then when you snapped, light blue sparkles flew out of your mouth and made your voice sound wonky.

Now, you barely looked at her. For the entirety of when you were gone, you had to catch up. She felt a little relieved, you could finally talk to her by asking for notes. Didn’t want to admit the pit in her chest when you asked the person behind you.

I’m sorry, Jenna thinks, she wants to scream at you and apologize until you forgive her.

You ignored her, and she knew she deserved it. She treated you so wrongly. Sure she knew you never mind those moments she looked back to, but she knew that she grew more and more brave with her pranks, growing less and less cautious of even thinking of your safety and feelings.

She hates seeing that look in your eyes as everyone in Hooch’s class shouts, “Up!” with excitement, and you sit there, alone on the bleachers as you watch. 

As you watch your whole class fly off, Emma giving you a small, concerned look, and a tight-lipped, forceful smile forms on your lips, assuring you were fine.

She hates the way she can remember the smile leaving your lips as Emma leaves off for the race, then looking down with melancholy traced in your features.

I’m sorry.

The shorter brunette can’t stand the way you look at everyone fly off, knowing that someone that you know won’t be you will probably take your place in Quidditch. She can see it in your eyes, kicking the dirt, hoping that somehow you can kick the pain and broken limbs away.

This time, she can’t tear your eyes away from your tiny figure.

Yet she knows that you won’t even look at her, never noticing the sympathetic stares she gives you, replaced with the ones once filled with competition.

-

Emma’s voice is dull, almost like she doesn’t want to talk to Jenna after the incident.

“You’re seriously asking me to have Y/N talk to you?” she questions, looking at her with suspicion.

“Please, Em! It’s been a month, and I’ve been trying to apologize.”

The blonde crosses her arms, trying to defend you, “Well what if she doesn’t want to talk to you or apologize?”

“I don’t care!” Jenna throws her arms in the air, “I know what I did was wrong and if I’m being honest, class is getting boring without having her competition and silly remarks behind my back.”

Jenna freezes, what she says kind of sounds weird.

Emma hums, then she turns to Jenna, “So, what are you saying Jenna?”

“I care about her!” She groans, rubbing her cheeks, “I’m starting to think that I’ve cared about her since I met her but didn’t know till my actions got her hurt. I was going to apologize but now I’m shitting desperate. She won’t get out of my mind and.. I don’t know!”

Jenna groans, trying to think of what this was, “I just keep thinking about the things she doesn’t do anymore, and it’s sad not having her by my side. I feel guilty. And I need to apologize even more so she can get out of my head! Em, please, I can’t get that stupid silly cute smile out of my head. And I can’t damn focus knowing that the girl that sits next to me in McGonagall is full on avoiding me!”

She doesn’t realize the way she’s been rambling, she looks at Emma, whose face expression has changed. In some way, she’s slightly having a grin on her face, “You’re in love with her.”

“What? I don’t know! Maybe, I just-I feel bad, and I want to apologize and make it okay again. It’s just so dull and I’ll.. I don’t even fucking know. I just miss her and the way it used to be.”

“You should’ve told me that,” your soft voice sing-songs from behind her, making her tense up and turn around.

“Y/N,” Jenna stutters.

“Jenna,” you mumble, voice slightly breathy.

“I didn’t think you were-” she squeals in surprise as you drag her by the arm, panting softly as you drag her into a room, god who knows what Hogwarts classroom this is.

“Look Y/N, I’m sorry, but why are we in someones-mmph.” You seal her lips with a random spell under your lips and you place your finger to her mouth. 

You slightly smirk, god she missed it, she looks down at your lips, she rolls her eyes, “Apologize to me and I’ll let you do what you’ve wanted to do.” You undo your spell, taking off your finger from her mouth as she begins to speak.

“Wha?-”

“Go on.”

You were teasing her, and she breathed, “Okay, I’m sorry. For hurting you, I know I went too far,” she was rambling as she speaks a little faster, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just felt more brave as much as I teased you and I know I went too far this time. And I promise I didn’t try to hurt you, I know how much Quidditch meant to you..” she gulps again, taking a breath. “What I did led to a lot of things, and I’ve noticed the way I grew upset when I knew you began to avoid me, and I’ll admit I miss you.” Jenna says the last part hesitantly.

The brunette looked up at you and you were looking at her, hesitant eyes, but almost filled with need? She now noticed the more visible cut on your eye, and you look away, seeing her gaze on the mark you were most insecure on, you cover your face.

“Stop that,” Jenna smacks your hands away and it feels like her hesitation swept away, she slowly reached up to cup your cheeks, in which your uncertainty melted. She looks at the mark, it was better than when she saw you unconscious on the floor. That’s all that matters. She wants to roll her eyes but now she feels weird when she does that.

“Does it hurt?”

You shake your head, “Just a little.”

"I'm sorry about Quidditch."

"I'm still angry about that, my arm should heal soon though, before it starts."

.. An awkward silence passes, then you look down at her pink lips.

Jenna hums, then you tug her closer, making a small whine.

“Please kiss me.”

Jenna’s eyes widen, taking her hands away from your cheeks.

“What?”

“Please,” you plead, your eyes filled with want.

Her eyes flicker from your lips as she cups your cheeks again and brings you to her mouth. As they meet, you’re all small and soft moans, kissing her with need. Hunger. It’s different. Teasing you doesn’t come with words, she’s teasing you with her mouth, feeling the way you grip onto her. 

More more more, don’t stop.

You taste exactly how Jenna thought you would, but just so much better. So addicting, it makes her mind spin with you. Coca cola and addictive vanilla. It mixes well with the taste of hers, you let her capture your tongue. It’s feverish, tongue and want combined. She indulges in the way you make a tiny moan as she nibbles your tongue. Your wanting lips push harder to hers, your body pressing against her as you slightly find something to grind against.

It’s heated and different. She tugs you closer, finding it adorable as you pull away for a tiny breath, then continue, like you don’t want to stop feeling her lips on yours. Her hands. Your fingers tugging against her hair.

Long moments after you pull away, you both are panting, your head buried deep into her chest. She rubs your hair.

“I didn’t think you were that experienced,” you whisper.

She rolls her eyes, pressing her lips to your forehead, “I didn’t think you’d pull me into a room and start begging me to kiss you and make out with you.”

“Mm..”

“Well, did my kisses grant your forgiveness for me?

“Maybe.”

“What if I give you another round?”

She smirks, seeing the way you lean back into her.

“Deal.”

She presses her lips that just left yours once again, feeling your hands tangle back into her hair.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you write something about Jason comforting the reader with the insecurities of stretch marks and fat? Please.

Sorry this took long for me to get to but it’s here finally! 🦦

Jason knew something was off the moment he noticed the absence of light within your eyes that he loved so much whenever you caught sight of yourself within the mirror, even if it was from the corner of your eyes it was still enough to sour your overall mood for the week. And it was because of this that Jason definitively decided that he needed to step in and help you out of the rut that you seemed to have gotten yourself in; seeing as how you never once hesitated to help him out of his own share of ruts- even the ones where he didn’t think himself deserving of being saved- Jason wanted to pay that kindness you’ve shone him forward and be there for you the way you’ve been there for him.

That and the fact that he doesn’t want his favourite person to have ever walked into his life to ever feel alone in their most trying times, especially when he knew damn well he could’ve done something to help solve the issue rather then stand at the sidelines and make it even worse.

So one day Jason found himself sat by your side on the bed after catching you looking at yourself dishearteningly through the mirror in shame, disappointment and disapproval one too many times. ‘What’s wrong sweetheart? Whose asses do I have to kick for making my baby upset hmm?’ Jason asked and you forced yourself to smile at his concern but didn’t think it was worth the hassle he’d be willing to put himself through for.

‘No one has said anything Jason, so there’ll be no ass you’ll be kicking I’m afraid, besides it’s stupid and I’ll get over it…or at least I thought I would by now.’ You directed the last part at yourself, muttering it under your breath, but all it did was raise Jason’s concern as he reached over and held your hand in his, tracing calming patterns into your skin with his thumb. ‘Come on angel,’ he softly encouraged, squeezing your hand, ‘there’s nothing that you coup ever say that would make me think of you any differently than I do now.’

You looked at him with tearful eyes that made him want to tear his heart out of his chest for how much it hurt him in seeing you in any sort of pain or distress. ‘Even with all my…fat and my stretch marks that I wish would go away every night when I’m constantly reminded on a daily basis that I’ll never be the vision of beauty? My my acne/acne scarring that I can never be rid of and are now a permanent extension of me?’ You asked, though the further you sent the more your vision blurred with your tears, making it harder for you to make out his expression, which didn’t help with your unsavoury thoughts that made you compare to yourself to the likes of your good friend Artemis; who told you on multiple occasions that Jason wasn’t a shallow man and that if he could, he’d choose you in every possible universe.

‘Yes.’ Jason replied seriously and without an ounce of hesitation. ‘Even with the things that you view as an insecurity because to me they’re what make you, well you.’ He then gets off the bed -hands still intertwined- as he knelt on his knees in front of you, smiling. ‘You’re still my y/n. My beautiful,’ he plants a kiss to your hand, ‘handsome,’ another kiss to the inside of your wrist, ‘gorgeous and ridiculous sweet y/n.’ He brings his barrage of kisses to an end by having the last two on your thighs where he knew you had stretch marks, looking up at you with kind and caring eyes that he only ever gives you and only you. ‘You only blessed me by giving me more of you to love up on and how could I resist such a beautiful blessing such as that?’

‘You mean that? Truly?’ You asked.

‘With my whole heart, I meant every word.’ Jason replied, now looking at you with complete and utter devotion to you, his deity.

‘I don’t disgust you? Not once?’ You asked again, still in denial that a man such as him existed.

‘I’d make constellations of your acne/scarring with my fingers if it brings you happiness.’ Jason began. ‘I’d memorise the way your plush and plump body cushions against me perfectly as though you were made to be in my arms and my arms only.’ He then let’s go of your hand to hold both of your thighs in his big, strong hands as he began to squeeze and stroke them at his own pace. ‘I’d kiss each and every one of your stretch marks while whispering my thanks to them for making you even more beautiful than I’d ever thought possible.’ He concludes, kissing your thighs once more in appreciation of your creation.

‘Jason…’ you were crying but for an entirely different reason as you watched on in fascination as he showed love towards the parts of yourself that you felt most embarrassed and ashamed about your entire life, Almost as though it came easy as breathing to him, like loving you was easy as breathing to him.

‘Yes sweetheart.’ He said against your thigh, pressing a loving kiss into it.

‘Thank you for loving me when I couldn’t love myself.’ You said, reaching your hands to hold his face in your hands as you sweetly kissed him on the lips and feeling him smile into the kiss and still feeling his hands kneading the flesh of your thighs but instead of feeling ashamed, you felt loved. You felt happy that you’ve got a man like Jason who was addicted to you and every inch of your body as though he’ll never get a chance to worship your body again.

‘No need to thank me sweetheart, I’d gladly love on you in this life and the next because if I’m certain that I’m made for one thing, it’s loving you unconditionally and wholeheartedly.’ Jason replied, pulling away. ‘Now how about we get some take out and just spend the evening here, just the two of us?’ You smiled and pecked his nose, laughing at the way he scrunched up his nose. ‘That sounds perfect Jay, but then again anything with you is perfect.’

‘So just like you then?’ Jason smirked at you and you decided to shut him up with another kiss on the lips, unable to stop the smile on your lips from growing as you enjoyed your little piece of heaven with him.

[eremorte]

thronecoming heritage hall gifts (rewritten)

The Thronecoming heritage hall gifts bug me. Most of them don’t feel like a parent has gifted them. They are so uninspired for the biggest moment in their child’s life.

I’ve listed my replacements below. I’m hoping for the gifts to have a, if had-to-do-it-again-here’s-what-I’d-want vibe.

blondie lockes

OG gift: running shoes

rewritten gift: a new piece of tech that helps her with her mirror cast. A shiny new microphone or even just a cute news reporter accessory that acknowledges her unintended break from destiny (or rather extremely developed hobby/career because her story can be over in like 30 minutes) it also gives off the initial impression that blondie’s story is “just right” the way it is until.. boom! There’s a note.

That mentions that as Goldilocks has reflected on her role and how she regrets hurting the bears the ways she has* and with an extra perceptive daughter like blondie she is sure to find a worthy story (within bounds) that won’t cause baby bear to develop a complex. *insert long list of things here that blondie could comment on in her stead because the story book of legends didn’t write every worthwhile critique of the bear house and the bears despite “forgiving” her won’t let her talk to them about this* and a small comment of how she is super proud about blondie that hopefully eases some of her attention seeking behavior so she’s less of a brat later on.

cerise hood:

OG Gift: picnic basket with an electronic mirror lock.

revised gift: honestly I have no comment. This is a great gift. My only question is how recently the presents are placed in the hall seeing as how that basket spit up a whole bird leg. Maybe it has a special note of the picnic menu they have in celebration once the whole shebang is done.

o hair twins:

OG gift floating hair brushes

rewritten gift given how Rapunzel’s story is that she was locked away her whole life because her bio mom ate a magical plant while pregnant that the witch wasn’t sure of the side effects of and had to lock her away because damn sure bio parents couldn’t do anything if the witch was second guessing herself. What I think should be there are odd bits an bobs function like an Easter egg hunt of a map and post fairytale notes one what they are that Rapunzel is certain her girls can figure out because they have her plant powers (though probably diluted hence the helpful notes incase they have to solve things like their adoptive grandma ).

briar beauty

NOW FOR THE GIRL WHO INSPIRED THIS POST. Her gift makes me so angry. It is the most nothing gift of the whole bunch. You mean to tell me that a hundred year sleep doesn’t come with any regrets at all? Not one thing?

OG gift A neck pillow.

revised gift: A SCRAPBOOK. The first few pages could be filled with pictures of her family. Bonus points if they’re are people Briar wouldn’t have gotten the chance to meet but knows who they are by virtue of her mom. It hits home exactly how big her sacrifice is. Also all the storybook imagery? The intro? Imagine if there was a dark time line where we were being told everything that happen through briar who missed all of it and is trying to piece back something familiar?

either way, mental breakdown and existential crisis guaranteed.

also bonus. It’s totally merchandisable. Half the book mercy was essentially scrapbooks/concept art anyhow.

Cedar wood: revealer rays

it’s a good gift but something she wouldn’t be able to use in her story at all. They are not subtle and most everyone who knows about Cedar knows that Pinocchio didn’t mess up her eyes to the point she’d feasibly need glasses. Revised gift: letters from the blue fairy (well wishes, maybe an helpful hint or two) Gepetto and Pinocchio (things to to try (and not repeat) once she’s no longer wooden and how to lie effectively) I can’t think of a physical possession for Cedar to have. But I feel she’d appreciate these. Maybe a special cricket/donkey whistle?

duchess swan:

no gift shown but what I have in mind is a mix of briar and blondie’s gift.

a collection of letters (written on leaves and paper or something) from both her mom and her bio dad detailing the bitter sweet love in the tragedy to reassure duchess it’s not all bad. And a special pair of dancing shoes for her last night as a human. I imagine this gift would only make duchess mad.

Madeline hatter:

no gift shown and honestly idk what the mad hatter gives his daughter it’s probably perfect. An old hat that looks very normal actually? A crazy new teapot? Who knows?

raven queen:

og gift wand wishing well coin

honestly I want to know the logic behind the wand. Is it a back up battery in case apple thwarts raven through zapping away her powers somehow?

I have multiple suggestions

Something that contains directions to the true SBOL

recipe for the poison apple

something that originally belonged to someone in the Snow White family that she is proud enough to share with her daughter (raven would probably give it back).

*blondie branches out mentions how Goldilocks promised to be a better person.

[pumpkinpastiesandcoffee]

Bucket List Fantasy

Rin Matsuoka x Male x Sousuke Yamazaki ... 18+

Summary: When a question about bucket lists turns into acting out a fantasy, who are you to question how you got here? Words: 2911 Warnings: NSFW obviously, unprotected

A/N: Free! has its claws in me again! and I just could not get this idea out of my head. Also wrote in a different style, it felt like it flowed more naturally than reader insert so we'll see how it goes x

~MDNI~

It was a month before the tournament season started again which is why you shouldn’t have allowed yourself to be splayed out on your boyfriend’s bunk, scrolling absently through your phone. You probably should be training, no, you definitely should be training, but it felt like forever since you’d seen Rin and you missed him so, so very much. Although you had to admit that as much as you wish you were on the Samezuka swim team with him, it was probably for the best you were on the Iwatobi team as training with Rin all the time would be, distracting, to sat the least. Speaking of the maroonette, he still hadn’t returned to his dorm and your patience was dwindling. In your mood of missing him you’d gotten yourself comfortable by swapping out your clothes for one of his sweatshirts which was just a bit too big for your smaller frame. You stood a few inches shorter than him and despite being a swimmer yourself, had a lither frame, although it worked in your favor as combined with your high endurance you had the perfect combination for 400m races.   

The sound of talking as the door to the dorm swung open is what had you rolling onto your side, beaming as Rin and his roommate Sousuke walked in. Rin was quick to drop his gear the side as he saw you, damn near diving onto the bed as he draped himself over you with a tired groan, peppering your face with kisses making you laugh. Sousuke rolled his eyes, abandoning his own gear as he called a hello over to you, snorting when all he got in response was a muffled ‘hey’ and your hand waving above Rin’s shoulder.

Like most of your visits to the dorm, you’d ended up in Rin’s lap, his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin resting atop your head with Sousuke sat beside the two of you, laptop sat between as you watched a movie. You weren’t overly interested in it but as the characters talked about dumb things they want to do for bucket lists you found yourself tipping your head to the side and wondering aloud. “Hm, what would you have on your bucket list?” Rin pressed a kiss to your crown with a laugh, shrugging as he looked over at his friend, “Dunno, swim the Olympics? Travel I guess.” Sousuke had an unsure expression on his features as he replied too, “Probably about the same.” The scoff you let out had them looking over at you in amusement.

“That’s it? Nothing specific?” You motioned to the laptop as you continued, “I mean even those idiots have some interesting things on their list.” Sousuke frowned at that, eyeing the laptop with a wry expression and nervous laugh, “Most of theirs are sex based so define interesting.” Rin however was grinning, he’d dipped his head down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he hummed, “Ohh, are we asking about a naughty, fantasies bucket list hm? Bold.” His voice had lowered and reverberated through your mind making you warm, eyes flickering nervously to your friend who seemed to be rather tense now. Rin wasn’t easily embarrassed by sex and while you were pretty happy to talk about things with him, you were sure Sousuke was quite different, hell, he usually blushes at sex scenes in movies.

“I didn’t mean it like that Rin, sorry Sousuke” you’d pouted but Rin was not about to let go of this and he chuckled. “Aww, don’t apologise to him, he doesn’t mind. Plus, I bet he has some very, interesting, fantasies in that head of his.” Rin was always teasing, always and while his friend was used to it, he still found himself turning pink. “I know one of yours is a threesome hm? I’d have to agree with that, although I’m not sure if I’m willing to share that perfect little a-” He’d been cut off as you turned around in his lap and slapped a hand over his mouth, feeling his lips pull into a smirk before he ran his tongue along your palm and laughing as you pulled back. “You’re shameless Y’know that” you huffed at him and he’d been quick to kiss you before shrugging nonchalantly “So what, it’s just us and Sousuke.”

Speaking of the young man who was still sat beside you, albeit rather awkwardly now, you turned to apologise to him again however your apology was quickly drowned out by Rin, “What about you man? Reckon you’d ever want to have a threesome?” His tone was leading and you realised where this was going. It’s not like you hadn’t thought about it, hell, you and Rin had even talked about it but to bring it up now, like this? You were sure your boyfriend was unhinged. Sousuke’s blue eyes had widened and turned to the two of you, he knew, he knew exactly what Rin was getting at and it had his breath hitching. He found himself shifting uncomfortably although instead of the previous awkwardness he felt, it was now the sudden tightness of his pants and the awareness that the room had gotten so much hotter than before and damn if he hadn’t thought about it either. Well, he was somewhat indifferent to Rin’s participation but your pretty soft lips wrapped around him? Yeah, he’d thought about it.

The tension had gotten so thick your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, the lack of an answer worrying you and making you nervously pipe up, wanting to find a way to spare him, “S’okay Sousuke, you don’t need to answer that, I think I might head off though.” To your surprise though he finally spoke, a somewhat choked out response, “wait, stay…I, yeah, I reckon I’d want to” He watched the owlish look overtake your features as you turned your attention back to him, those beautiful eyes so wide with surprise it only made his discomfort grow. Rin however was grinning, already growing hard beneath you and he pressed his lips to your pulse point before trailing them up to your ear as he spoke in a husky tone, “Y’know what to do bunny, give us a show.”

He was right, you did know what to do and you leant forward and crawled on all fours towards Sousuke who was so still you wondered if touching him would make him crumble. As your fingers came to brush over the now visible tent in his pants, he shuddered, and you smiled up at him, sitting back on your knees to slowly, teasingly, undo the button and slide down the zip of his pants. Pushing the fabric down you leant back towards him, lips brushing his jaw before descending down his covered chest, enjoying how his breathing seemed to shake under your attention. Finally, your lips pressed against his cock, even through the fabric of his underwear you could feel how hot he was. Eyes flitting back up to meet his, you tucked your fingers under the fabric before pulling down and freeing him, tucking the waist band down and under his heavy balls.

Unlike Rin who was trimmed, dick smooth and long with enough girth you get to enjoy the stretch without hurting, Sousuke was untouched and your eyes followed the couple of thick veins that seemed to snake along the top before wrapping underneath. While he wasn’t quite as long as your boyfriend, he was much thicker and the saliva in your mouth seemed to suddenly coat every millimeter of space and you parted your lips, tongue sliding out to let the spit drip onto the tip of his cock. Leaning down you let your tongue trace the path the drop of saliva had run and Sousuke hissed, fingers curling into the bed as his eyes flicked to Rin, worried he’d suddenly pull you off or kick him out. Rin however was smirking, his own hand currently stroking himself through his shorts, free hand trailing along your leg and up your thigh, stopping at the hem of your shorts before trailing back down. Needless to say, all three of you were on board and enjoying this little, fantasy.

Sousuke’s eyes returned to you with a groan as your lips wrapped around him, you’d reached up to tuck your hair behind your ear before dropping your hand to his thigh to steady yourself as you began to bob your head, only taking about half of him at this point. “He likes when you pull or touch his hair,” Rin had mused, his voice had taken on that low, sultry tone but even now there was his usual playfulness as he smiled over at his friend. Gently, Sousuke reached his hand up to your head, fingers running through the soft strands, pushing them out of your face before his hand settled atop your head, that alone had earned him a low hum that vibrated through him. Tipping his head back with a groan of his own, Sousuke now tugged lightly at your hair and this time was met with something between a whimper and a moan, your hips swaying slightly which seemed to make Rin laugh. “Aw, he’s such a needy little thing, aren’t ya bunny?” your muffled hum of a response only egging him on.

Rin had decided he no longer wanted to just watch and he moved to sit up onto his knees, pushing the sweatshirt you still wore up a bit, fingers moving to pinch your nipples before rolling them between thumb and index, enjoying all the little muffled sounds you made in response. He moved his hands down, grabbing both your shorts and briefs and yanking them down with ease, loving how you parted your legs without hesitation, giving him a perfect view of your pretty little puckered hole and the barely visible line that trailed down between your balls and along your shaft, disappearing entirely before the head which was already leaking pearly beads. “Look at that, he’s already so worked up just from sucking your dick Sousuke, what a little slut” He laughed, hand coming down on your ass, making you jolt and Sousuke grunt.

Rin had hopped up, picking the laptop up as he headed over to the desk, leaving it behind but returning with a tube of lube, the sound of the cap popping open as the knelt back on the bed making you whine in anticipation. Sousuke massaged your scalp, watching as you seemed encouraged to take more of him now, he could feel your throat fighting you, clenching desperately around his cock, you only had an inch or two it seemed before you’d have taken all of him, but for now you pulled back for air again. Rin had coated his index and middle finger in lube now and was pressing one digit to your entrance, snickering at how you pressed your hips back against his finger, forcing it in. “Tsk, so impatient, keep it up and I’ll skip my fingers” he tutted, free hand pinching your hip making you squirm against him, your open-mouthed kisses on Sousuke’s shaft faltering as you groaned. “Don’t need them Rin, please, just need you” and your plea was met with amusement from both him, Rin shrugging as he pulled down his own shorts and briefs, letting them fall to his knees as he smeared the lube along his cock. “If you say so bun, but don’t complain to me later if you’re sore.”

Sousuke found himself tracing his fingers down your face, index finger lifting your chin to meet his eyes as his thumb traced over your lip. Without a thought you parted them, tongue lolling out then curling around it, a deep rumble of a groan escaping him and he leant forward, pressing his lips to yours. You tasted so sweet to him, but the hint of his own precum caught up to him and he pressed his tongue further into your mouth as if searching for just your own untainted flavor. The kiss lasted until his lungs burned for air and he pulled back, smiling as you leant forward, chasing after more. Rin however was just pressing the head of cock against your ass, watching as it stretched for him, allowing him in without too much resistance, and as your lips caught Sousuke’s Rins intrusion had you moaning into his mouth. You wriggled your hips as you adjusted yourself before bring your lips back down to Sousuke’s dick, tongue lapping at the precum before taking him fully into your mouth and swallowing him in again.

Rin pressed into you until he bottomed out, his bare thighs flush to yours as he leant forward, one hand holding your hip steady while the other traced up your spine and stopped at the back of your head. He pressed down, a groan of defiance that seemed to come instinctively from within you as he did, “C’mon bunny, you can take him, you were so close before.” Sousuke swallowed thickly, watching with wide, lust blown eyes as Rin pushed you down and despite the spasms of your throat, you made it. Nose pressed flush against Sousuke’s pelvis, buried in the thick tuft of hair that forced your senses to be drowned in his scent. Rin’s fingers gently rubbed against your scalp, adoring and prideful before he let go, listening to the choked gagging sound you made as you pulled yourself off, breathing deeply. “Such a good boy for us, right Sousuke? Always so eager to please” Rin praised, pressing kisses to your shoulder before leaning back. He sounded proud, like you were a pet he trained and was showing off. Sousuke had nodded, a deep hum of agreement as he looked down at you. Both of Rin’s hands returned to your hips now but he stayed unmoving, waiting for you to continue too.

Returning your mouth to work, Rin then began to draw his hips back and forward, not slow, but not fast either, just enough to make your body rock. So, with every deep thrust into you, your mouth was forced down Sousuke’s shaft. One of your hands gripped the bed below to steady you while your other hand was now massaging his heavy balls, his deep grunts making your own cock twitch. His hand returned to your hair, switching between massaging your scalp and tugging your hair. The feeling of both your ass and throat filled like this was almost overwhelming, your brain was fuzzy and your stomach felt hot with your high encroaching on your body too and as Rin deepened your arch you felt the coil snap and you came, spilling onto the sheets below with a garbled cry and trembling legs.  

Sousuke was next to find his euphoria, the vibrations of your moan sending him over the edge, his thighs tensing as he gripped your hair a bit too tightly. He tried to stutter out a warning, unsure if he should pull you down further or push you away, but the words were choked and replaced with a deep, loud groan that had him throwing his head back as his hips jerked. Your nose met his pelvis for the final time as he filled your throat and mouth, hot and thick it coated your tongue as you desperately swallowed it down. The saltiness was mild and made it easy to take but with him still shoved so far down your throat you were having a difficult time. As if realizing this Sousuke quickly released your head, a huffed out ‘sorry’ as you came up for air, swallowing whatever was left in your mouth before letting it hang ajar as you huffed and gasped through the dissipating ripples of your orgasm, prolonged only by Rin’s thrusts.

Rin picked up his pace now, not having to worry about how his harsh thrusts moved you. His nails bit in to your hips as he fucked into you roughly, the sound of his thighs and balls slapping against your own filled the air as he chased his own release. He’d been so worked up from watching you and stroking himself that it hadn’t taken much for him to come too and you could feel him shooting those hot ropes of cum deep inside of you. Your name moaned loudly as he rutted into you, his body pressing down, chest to back as his teeth threatened to break the skin on your shoulder. Sousuke realised this was the source of those hickies he often sees on you and he smirked, looking down to see you staring back up at him, fucked out and panting, lips swollen. He traced his thumb up your marionette line, collecting the cum and saliva that had spilled over and pressed it to your parted lips, watching as you licked it clean without hesitation and he had to breath deep as that alone would have been enough to make him hard again. He leant down, pressing a searing kiss to your lips before pulling back and using his index and thumb to pinch your chin before turning your face towards Rin who eagerly took the opportunity to kiss you in a way that had you wondering if you really needed oxygen. Your body seems to melt between Rin and Sousuke as you reach that plateau of blissful lethargy, you find yourself thinking of other bucket list fantasies you could cross off.

[constellationguy]

Another Perspective

Episode two

"Text": regular talking

'Text': regular thinking

"Text": Saiki talking telepathically

'Text': Saiki thinking

ATTENTION! You might want to rewatch episode two of The Disastrous Life of Saiki K before reading to fully understand the events.

Previous episode

Summary: Episode 2 in L/N Y/N's perspective.

CRASH

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” “Was that a meteor?”

‘Nope just Kusuo trying to put the ball away,’ thought Y/N exasperated.

“Alright losers listen up. We’re playing dodge ball!” Coach Matsuzaki announced. However class 2-3 did not seem too amused at the thought of playing dodgeball, they’d rather be doing something else.

“HEY QUIT COMPLAINING! Let’s give it everything we’ve got! So what if it’s childish? It’ll be fun to relive our youth! Let’s go out there and dodge till we drop!” Hairo announced convincingly.

‘Damn, and here I thought we were going to do something else,’ Y/N thought a little glum, Saiki also agreed with this thought.

“Well if Hairo really wants us to then I guess” “Ya we gotta give it a shot right?” Soon enough the collective opinion of the class turned from annoyed to eager positivity.

“Who wants to be on my team?” Most on the class raised their hands and shouted along with enthusiasm. “We’ll decide the teams with rock paper.” Matsuzaki announced.

“Alright! We’re gonna win this thing!” “YAAAAA” ‘I have a feeling this is gonna be a bit overdramatic even for my taste,’ “I have a feeling you’re right,” Saiki said to Y/N. “Being on Hairo’s team beats the alternative right?” ‘Guess so’ Y/N thought back to Saiki.

“We’ll start with a jump ball.” And with that the game is on! Hairo immediately grabbed the ball yelling enthusiastically and got Takahashi out.

“YA WE GOT ONE OUT!” Hairo’s team gave him numerous high fives in their excitement. “Getting one player out is worth that much excitement? And how is he sweating so much already? We just started.” “Hairo’s his own little sports anime, it’s best you just roll with it” Y/N said back to Saiki.

“Hey there Saiki. We’re taking you first!” The student threw the ball but Saiki did nothing to catch or block the ball from hitting him.

“Hold it Saiki! Were you actually trying to get hit by that ball?” Saiki nodded. “For real? Well. Hey where you going? You’re not out. Face safe rule.” Hairo smiled at Saiki, he could not smile back. Now Saiki has to throw the ball, uh oh.

“Saiki give it all you’ve got!” Hairo yelled. ‘Ya I don’t think so. I’d like my classmates to still have skin by the end of class.’ Y/N thought.

Y/N could tell that Saiki was obviously freaking out but eventually he landed on throwing the ball at Nendo. The throw happened to turn out more like a calm pass to Nendo though.

“What the hell kinda wussy ass throw was that?! This isn’t a game kid, it’s serious put some heart into it!” ‘Ouch that was harsh. You tried your best Kusuo, don’t worry about it too much.’

“Hey now buddy! Thanks for going easy on your boy but right now we’re supposed to be enemies.”

“Did you really go easy on him cause he’s your friend?!” ‘No part of that is true’

“Alright. They don’t call me Nen the dodgeballer for nothing! Take that! And that! Bam! Boo ya! Two fa!” “Wow he took out 6 players at once!” “The paper team only has two guys left!” Conveniently and not so conveniently Y/N was gotten out by Nendo but Saiki stayed in the game.

“Obviously I’ve gotta save my pall for last. Which makes you my next target captain. Dodge ball!!!!”

“AAAAAA” ‘okay here’s the dramatics, I’m not really into sports anime’s but this is entertaining enough,’ ‘try being in the sports anime’ Saiki thought back to Y/N. ‘right. Sorry Kusuo,’.

Just as Hairo was lining up to catch Nendo’s ball, Saiki got in the way and the ball hit him instead, shocking everyone.

“Hey don’t give up now! We’re still in this! LETS GO!” Surprisingly Hairo had enough time to make that short speech and also catch the ball before it hit the ground. ‘Okay now that was impressive’.

“Oh no! Hairo’s knee is busted!” “That means Saiki is the only one left on team paper!” The he shocked and annoyed faces Saiki was making was gold to Y/N, maybe playing dodgeball wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Looks like this is it for me. I entrust this ball to you. I know that you’re hiding something Saiki. You’ve got a power deep inside you that’s you’re not using. What’s stopping you? Now’s the time. I want to see you let loose and unleash” he paused to vomit sparkly blood. “Help us Saiki. You’re our only hope.” He puked sparkles again.

“Yo Saiki, I believe in you!” “We’re counting on you Saiki!” “Kick their butts Saiki!” ‘You have got to be kidding me!’

‘Kusuo’s thinking hard about his next move. Whatever it is, I hope it turns out in his favor.’ Y/N thought a little worriedly.

This time when Saiki threw the ball it turned out to be a spin ball. This shocked the class and brought his likeability up.

“Finally it’s my turn to show you what I’ve got. Do you have any idea what that means for you Saiki? I means that you’re in big trouble.” Kaido grabbed the ball extra confident. ‘By that face Kusuo is making, I bet he was banking on getting out, guess that plan failed.’ Y/N couldn’t tell if they should feel bad for Saiki or a little amused at the situation he’s in.

“Here’s my meteor spark genocide ball!” Kaido then made a rather pitiful noise when letting go of the ball. Saiki caught the ball with pretty much no effort.

Saiki then threw the ball to out field to bring a player in but he put a little too much power into it, which sent the class into hysteria.

“Sorrrrry, Buddy!!!” Saiki braces for Nendo’s ball and was hit. “Iiiiiiii’ve got it!” Hairo was suddenly in the game again. “Just in time” ‘I kinda feel bad for Kusuo but that face is priceless!’ Y/N tried to not laugh at Saiki’s misery.

“Saiki I saw the spirit you put into that throw. It’s really moved me!” Hairo was crying! “I’ll handle things from here!” Hairo managed to get a few outs until the score was even.

“Sorry but your little come back ends here. I won’t be dropped as easy like those puny whimps.” “Ya me neither,” “Fine! Let’s finish this thing. Bring it!”

When Nendo threw the ball Hairo was unable to catch it, but Saiki came to the rescue and gently threw it back to Hairo. “No! You take it.” Hairo threw the ball back to team rock and got Nendo and Kaido out in one throw.

“Saiki is so amazing!” “Nice job Saiki!”

“Buddy! That was a really great match man!” Nendo hugged and cried to Saiki and the class’s adoration for Saiki quickly dissipated.

—————————————————————————

“WHAT? Manako said yes?!” Class 2-3 was filled with conversations on love and relationships. In the middle of the classroom sat Saiki and Yumehara, and it was clear she had a crush on him.

Y/N was only a few seats behind the two and knew that today was going to be interesting for Saiki and fun for them. Yumehara’s blush was evident and Y/N could tell that Saiki was reading her thoughts and wasn’t very unamused at their contents.

In Yumehara’s first plan she tried to make a meet-cute, but Saiki flipped over her and used his powers to put all her papers back neatly into her hands. Y/N was at the end of the hall and had the best view possible to this event, and boy was it entertaining.

In Yumehara’s next plan she dropped her handkerchief next to Saiki, but this plan was ruined by Y/N themself. Yumehara didn’t notice but Y/N was walking right behind her and when she dropped the handkerchief Y/N picked it up, “Hey Yumehara! You dropped this.” Y/N announced.

‘I know Saiki was meant to pick this up but I couldn’t resist throwing a wrench in her plans! Sure it may be a little mean but she’s my source of entertainment for today, she’s being a little too interesting for me to let slide,’ Y/N thought only feeling slightly guilty. Unfortunately Y/N’s thoughts were accurate and when they gave her handkerchief back she had a very obviously dejected expression, “how interesting,” Y/N smirked.

Undeterred Yumehara continued on her mission to get the attention of Saiki. But unfortunately for her, all of her plots were ruined by either an unamused Saiki or an overly enthusiastic Y/N.

For Yumehara’s final plan she tried to wait for Saiki so they could share his umbrella but before that could happen the rain suddenly stopped. Yumehara was feeling solemn but quickly found a new boy, but at the other side of the entrance Y/N was waiting for their boy, Kusuo.

“I think you had a little too much fun messing with her,” Saiki said to Y/N. “Maybe so, but I couldn’t have her stealing you away from me.” Y/N said jokingly. “Who else am I going to make massive amounts of sweets for?,” Y/N continued. “No one,” Saiki replied quickly. “That’s what I thought. Now let’s get home, I’ve got macrons with our names on them!”

—————————————————————————

In the L/N residence it was a normal and quiet afternoon. Y/N was making coffee jelly and was preparing to make their mango smoothie, all was well.

‘Ever since the neighbors have stopped fighting Kusuo has been able to come over more often. I hope he and his parents are doing well.’ But suddenly they were thrown out of their thoughts my a harsh CRACK from next door. ‘I know this is non of my business but I swear if they start fighting again,’ Y/N thought exasperated.

It was quiet for about an hour until a BAM was heard, again from the Saiki residence. ‘Okay what the hell. Is Kusuo in a bad mood or something, sheesh,” Y/N thought while sipping on their smoothie.

“Hey,” Saiki suddenly teleported in front of Y/N, giving them quite the scare. “I know we’ve been friends for forever but damn, give me some warning Kusuo! Anyway what was all that noise about?”

“My parents wanted some help moving furniture,” “Oh? Alright, well there’s freshly made coffee jelly in the fridge for you. I had a feeling you’d be over here sometime this weekend. Enjoy,” Y/N smiled at Saiki. “You’re a genius,” Saiki said dreamily while walking towards the fridge.

—————————————————————————

“Hey, you missed Kongo getting chopped by Mr. Hatakeyama at the front gate,” Saiki said to Y/N who was already spacing out at their desk.

“WAIT WHAT?! Nooooooo, why did I get here early for once?!” Y/N pouted.

“Beats me,” Saiki shrugged.

—————————————————————————

Next episode

[hopelessrromantix]

Content: religious themes, choking, degredation, f-slur, internalized homophobia

It was supposed to be a calm day. Nothing but the usual glances at the school freaks and maybe a rude comment from the basketball team.

But of course, Eddie and Jason were at each other’s throats. Again.

Jason had attempted to pick on the younger members of Hellfire, annoying both you and the group’s leader. Naturally, Eddie was furious. It resulted in a lovely marker drawing of a dick on Carver’s locker. Washable, yes, but enough to piss Jason off.

“You want somethin’ Munson?” Jason questioned, glaring at a very smug looking Eddie.

He’d managed to catch the group as they left that day’s session. He’d likely gotten out of basketball practice with the rest of his goons, most of which were trailing behind him.

“Of course not good sir!” Eddie smirked, giving the most sarcastic bow he could manage. You rolled your eyes. You’d much rather diffuse the situation, but Eddie was always one for dramatics.

“Don’t make it worse, Ed.” You crossed your arms over your chest “Just walk away, he won’t follow.”

Eddie hummed softly, as if he was considering your advice. You knew he wouldn’t take it though.

“Didn’t know you freaks had brain cells,” Carver chuckled, the comment clearly directed at you. You raised a brow. He had nerve.

“A lot more than you,” Eddie quipped. “Listen, I’d love to chat about sports or girls or whatever it is you gossip about in the locker rooms, but I actually have plans.”

Eddie Munson did not have plans.

“You aren’t leaving that easy, freaks.” Damn he was testing you today.

Eddie only laughed. “I know what you’re thinking and no, Chrissy isn’t at my place.”

The way Jason’s eyes widened was almost laughable. Fists clenched at his side, he strode forward, grabbing Eddie’s collar. You stepped behind your friend instantly, getting ready to push Jason off. The only reason you didn’t, is because Eddie gave a small wave, gesturing for you to back off.

“You stay the hell away from my girlfriend, you hear me?”

It was almost sad. How scared he was of losing Chrissy to Eddie. All the while spending most nights crying into your mattress.

“Loud and clear, big boy,” Eddie mumbled, patting the hand holding his collar.

You glared down at Jason, eyes boring into him. With one glance up, he dropped Eddie, taking several steps backward. He tried not to show his mild fear, keeping his expression cruel.

“Whatever,” He huffed. “I better not see you anywhere near her or me.” He didn’t wait for a response, instead walking past you with his group. He mumbled something to the rest of his friends before walking a different way.

“Well that was eventful,” Eddie said, sighing. “I’m probably gonna get my ass kicked, but I’m absolutely gonna find some excuse to talk to Chrissy.”

You shook your head fondly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds.” He gave you a half-assed wave, walking toward his van while you went toward your car.

You weren’t very surprised to see Jason sitting on the curb on the other side, out of view from Eddie or his jock friends.

You rolled your eyes, gesturing to the car and unlocking it. After making sure the parking lot was clear (save for Eddie who was blasting Metallica so loud he was sure to go deaf), he hopped in the passenger seat, sinking down.

Most of the drive was silent, your attention focused on the road ahead of you. Eventually he sat up, his knee bouncing and fingers tapping nervously against the car door.

“You know I--”

“If you’re smart, you’ll shut your mouth.” You said, cutting him off. His mouth opened again, but he quickly thought better of it, going back to looking out the window.

You pulled in your driveway and got out of the car just as silently, whipping open the door to your house and leaving it open for Jason to follow. He did a second later, following you to your room.

No one but you was home, your parents on a week long vacation. Originally you were going to surprise him, let him know he didn’t have to sneak around this week. But now, you were just happy you wouldn’t have to gag him.

“You’ve got some nerve, Carver,” You said, smirking. He looked nervous, dropping his book bag by the door. “Comin’ after Eddie and me like that.”

“Just wanted him to stop messing with Chrissy,” He explained quietly, trying not to make things worse for himself.

“Want him to leave her alone, huh?” You asked, sympathetically. He nodded slowly, not sure where the kind tone came from. “Y’know, I think she’d hate it a lot more if she found out you were getting fucked stupid by those ‘freaks’ you hate so much.”

You stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He was unable to meet your eye, looking from the walls to the floor.

“I just don’t want--”

“I don’t give a fuck what you want, Jason.” Your hand moved quickly, gripping his jaw.

It was tight enough to leave red marks, though you knew he wouldn’t complain. “If you think you can talk however you want to me and get away with it, you’re dead wrong.”

He tried to open his mouth to speak, but couldn’t move with your hand in the way.

He was a sinner, that much he knew. God was surely frowning on his actions, on the way he shivered when you glared at him. But he couldn’t imagine himself stopping.

No matter how loud the voice in the back of his head was, all he wanted was to be good for you.

“Clothes off, on the bed.” You order, finally letting his jaw go. The reddened prints of your fingers stuck around.

“Bu-”

“Did I ask your opinion, bitch?” You watched as Jason shook his head, shedding his letterman jacket and shirt. He took off his jeans soon after, nearly tripping over them with how eager he was to sit on your bed. He was slightly slower taking off his boxers, eyes flicking to watch your expression.

Already twitching and all you did was call him a bitch.

It was always like this. He’d mock your friends then come home with you and get fucking railed. It was some sick fetish for him, not that you were mad about getting to make a pretty boy cry.

He felt sick at how eager he was. His eyes traced your every move, anxiously watching as you stepped closer to the bed. Your hand gripped his chin, much gentler this time. He refrained from leaning into your touch.

Fucking you was one thing. Showing up at your house or begging you to come over to his when his parents were out. Pleading until he got one of Hawkin’s resident freak to fuck him so hard he had to fake an injury in gym the next day.

But loving you? Loving you was something else. Something he couldn’t even consider, not when he was abandoning so many of his morals.

“So pretty like this,” You mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear. “You wanna suck my cock, pretty boy?”

He nodded fervently. He could feel himself twitch, a bead of precum trailing down his dick. He knew you noticed, you always did. Eyes gleaming as you held back a laugh, knowing you could torture him like this.

He slid off the bed, undoing your belt and pulling your boxers down just enough to free your half-hard length.

He didn’t wait for you to say anything, instead completely throating your cock, shoving it as far back as he could. He could feel you getting harder in his throat, forcing him to gag the longer he went.

“Aw, so eager to get a dick down your throat that you choke yourself, huh?” You smirked, voice dripping with false sympathy. He tried his best to nod, tears gathering in his eyes. “Slut like you probably likes it, though.” He tried and failed to nod again, giving a low moan of agreement.

The vibration made you sigh, placing both hands on either side of his face. “I think I like you better when you’re quiet.”

He didn’t want to admit that he twitched at that, thrusting his hips up into empty air. You took hold of his hair, dragging him up and down your cock. He let out a mix of gags and moans, his face tinted red as he struggled to breath.

A few thrusts later you dragged his head fully down, burying his nose against your pelvis. You let out a sigh, relishing in the feeling of his throat contracting around you.

He looked so pretty like this, tears streamed down his face, gagging around your cock as he pushed against you. Of course, if he wanted to stop he only needed to tap you a few times. But he never did, no matter how long you choked him on your dick. You were almost certain he’d enjoy passing out, as long as you fucked him afterward.

His eyes rolled back, stuck swallowing helplessly as he ran out of air. Eventually you pulled him off, smiling as he coughed, inhaling as fast as he could.

“On the bed,” You ordered, gesturing your head toward the bed. It took him a second to react, eyes too glazed to process your statement. “Now.”

That got his attention. He moved slowly, sitting himself on the sheets anxiously. He was hoping you didn’t notice the cum dripping from his stomach. He knew you would, though. You always did.

The second you took in his full appearance you outright laughed. “Don’t tell me you came just from that?” He looked away from you, shifting slowly on the bed. “You really are a whore, huh?” He barely processed the insult, nodding along in agreement.

You scoffed at the action, putting one hand against his side. You flipped him over, making him gasp at the sudden manhandling. None of the girls he could date would treat him like that. None would want to rail big strong Jason Carver until he cried. But you would. You always did.

And everytime, he felt worse about himself. He knew the town would turn on him the second they knew he was a faggot, much less the one getting fucked. It was odd that way. As if him topping would make it all better. But he didn’t want to top, he’d never even asked to. He enjoyed the way you treated him too much. Like he was nothing more than dirt beneath your feet.

You gripped his neck, leaning down to meet level with his ear. “I’d go nice and slow to prep you, but I know you want it rough.”

And he did. He always did.

You spit roughly on his hole, chuckling at the soft moan he let out. You held your hand in front of his face, gesturing for him to do the same. He did so, listening as you used it to cover your dick.

“Imagine if your little team could see you now,” You laughed, pushing passed the tight ring.

His mouth fell open, head collapsing against the mattress. It probably would’ve hurt more if he hadn’t fingered himself to this exact scenario in the showers after everyone had left.

But he loved the pain, he loved how you laughed behind him, mocking his constant moans and mumbling. He could barely get a word out, the noises a jumbled mess of “please”, “sir”, “stop”, and “more”.

Naturally, if he really wanted to stop, he could. Just one word was all it would take. But no matter how far you went, he never used it. Not once. Not even when you left him tied up in your closest, vibrator shoved half way up his ass while you went to dinner. He probably could’ve gotten out of it if he really tried. But he hadn’t even thought of that.

His head was clouded, barely registering his second orgasm for the night. The only thing that brought him back was the sound of your mocking coo.

“Fucking whore came again so fast?” You didn’t slow your thrusts, speeding up slightly as he attempted to answer you. All that came out was an extended whine, voice breaking with each harsh thrust into him.

“Think I should call your little friends? Party at L/n’s, right? Let them fuck their ring leader ‘til he passes out?”

He shook his head rapidly, barely realizing he was chanting “nonono” on repeat.

“No? Don’t want your friends knowing you get fucked by a freak?” You questioned, giving a harsh slap against his ass, reveling in the whimper he let out.

“Just want you,” He managed to say, the words slurred. “Just want you using me like this.”

You froze for a second, nearly cumming right there. He whined at your lack of movement, thrusting himself backward.

“You reall are a fucking slut,” You punctuated the sentence with a thrust, earning a loud moan. “My slut.”

And that alone was enough to make him cum again.

[ohtobeleah]

Hangman would have seen you and Rooster hugging tho. Jealousy, jealousy?

For those who haven’t been following along—This is just a really fun series I’ve been concepting. The Masterlist is here.

Oh for sure he did! And he wasn't going to not bring it up the second he had a chance to either. Jake Sersin had seen his wife in the arms of Bradley Bradshaw out the front of the Hard Deck. He’d seen a few seconds of what could only be described as a friendly encounter with an acquaintance. A nice acquaintance at that. But there was never any malice intention or underlying feelings. But what did Jake know? Only what he could see and what he saw was his wife in the arms of another man. Someone other than himself.

“You know I saw you and Hawk at the Hard Deck Bradshaw.” His muscles hurt but he’d never admit it. Up, down, up, down. Right on cue every time. “Care to explain why you’re all over my wife?” Rooster cast a shadow down over Hangman. His body eclipsed the sun that beamed down on his back. Smirking, Rooster couldn’t help but to chuckle. Did he smell jealousy? Perhaps.

“Picturing me thick as thieves with your ex-wife not sitting right with you Hangman?” Rooster teased as he watched Hangman doing his push ups after Maverick had got tone on him, Phoenix and Bob. Crouching down as he let his forearms rest on his thigh. “We were just having a chat, nothing more to it man.”

“What happened between you two anyway?” Bob, the Weapon Systems Officer is questioned between his staggered push ups. “Lieutenant Commander Seresin seems nice, don’t really know why she’d go for a guy as egotistical as you to begin with Bagman.”

“You’ll never be able to love me more than you love flying.” Scrambling around the house as you threw things into the open luggage bag. You’d been called for a last minute assignment. “You're reckless and careless, you act like you don’t have someone waiting for you to come home!” Jake had only just gotten home, his first air to air kill confirmed mere minutes after he’d set foot stateside. “I can’t take this anymore, I can’t breathe Jake! I can't—“ And it was safe to say you weren’t taking the news well at all.

“It’s my job! when you married me that was the deal! A package!” Jake Seresin was missing a vital point in your argument. He couldn’t understand why you were so upset. He was home, he was alive. But it was the thought of losing him to his own selfishness that had finally eaten away at you enough to break you.

“But it’s not just a job Hangman!” You never really used his call sign, so to hear you say it with such venom made his heart break. “It’s the way you do your job!! You fly like every last training session is your last! Every mission, every task is your last. Everyone says the same damn thing too! You don’t play well with others, you don’t fit on the goddamn team so why the hell should I expect them to risk their lives to save your sorry arse if something were to happen?”

“Y/n—baby.” It was hard to have a counter argument prepared when Jake didn’t think he’d done anything wrong to begin with. Trying to keep you from leaving, his hands on either side of your shoulders. “I’m here? I’m okay! What's the problem, love?”

“The problem Jake is that they wouldn’t!” Heavy, that’s what Jake would call the atmosphere around you. He’d remember the look of hopelessness in your eyes, the love that you had for him. Immense and fierce. You loved him so much it scared you to the point where you had to leave for your own sanity. “And suddenly it’ll just be me, and I’d rather it just be me on my own accord then for you to be taken away from me because you’ve burnt all your bridges to the point no one will want to save you!”

“We just needed some time apart, and haven't really found a way back yet.” Jake really did like to downplay what he unintentionally put you through. Simply because he wasn’t ready to stop being the best of the best. He knows that confirmed air to air kill was the final straw that broke you—he could have easily let it go, but he didn’t. Unnecessarily endangering himself for the thrill of the chase. “And she is a nice person—“ Huffing as he finished his push-ups, Jake groaned as he stood to his feet. Rooster doing the same, staring each other day. “Hug my wife like that again and I’ll break every goddamn bone in your body.”

“Ex wife—Hangman, she’s your ex wife.” Bradley snickered as he pushed his aviator sunglasses up the bridge of his nose with a wicked shit eating smirk. “Hawk can do whatever, and whoever she wants.” Without so much as a glint of hesitation Jake was shoving at Roosters chest. His nostrils flaring with every intent of beating to life out of Bradley Bradshaw for even insinuating such a concept. You were his fucking wife. His.

“Hey!! Hey—!” It was only when you had come out to ask Hondo when Pete would be finishing up that you saw the confrontation going down. Jogging over, you couldn't really move all that quickly with your dress shoes on. You preferred to wear your service uniform more often than not. The tan looked good and was rather comfortable all things considered. But as you raced towards where Jake and Bradley stood puffing their chest and flaring their nostrils like baboons? A small part of you wished you’d just taken Mavericks offer on a more comfortable flight suit. Some old baggy one from the back of his collection. “Hey! Knock it off!”

At the sound of your voice, the sweet sound of fire and grace, Jake's shoulders settled a little. His anger dissipated. Stepping back and away from rooster as you caught his attention, all of it. Approaching with a huff after running across the tarmac, you took a deep breath in, hands resting on your knees as you bent over dramatically. Heart rate higher then you would have liked it to have been.

“What the hell is going on? Huh?”

“Nothing Lieutenant Commander–” It wasn't hard to catch onto the tone Jake laced your title with. It had been the same way you had called him Lieutenant not a few hours prior. With a glare unmissable and a tight jaw clenched, you turned to Rooster who stood close by. Sending him a questioning look.

“Anything to add?” It wasn't something you took pleasure in, being authoritarian. You’d much rather just keep a low profile. But sometimes, pulling the rank card was the only thing you could do to get your point across, to remind people you were still a person to take seriously. “Lieutenant Bradshaw?”

“Not a word ma'am” Rooster played into it well, bouncing off Jake's ego a little too well. “We were just discussing independence, it seems as though some of us have forgotten that free will is a thing.” It did surprise you, not in the slightest bit. Of cause they were arguing over something stupid. It was always something stupid wasnt it.

“Rooster, why don't you take a walk.” You knew from your conversation with Hondo just minutes ago he was due to be up in the air in half an hour. “Cool off, clear your head or else Mav’s gonna send you packing.” You didn't give him a chance to respond as you turned on your heels, facing Hangman once again, eyes squinting as the sun beamed down, holding your hand up to shade your eyes. “Hangman–my office.”

“Yeah I think I’m good–” Shrugging you off Jake began to walk away, the group of stunned pilots, Phoenix, bob and Rooster all let their jaws slack a little at the confrontation unfolding. You may have been his ex wife but first and foremost in this moment you were his superior. To blatantly disrespect you like he did was unheard of behavior. Watching for a brief second as Jake pushed past you, his shoulder bumping into you as he did so.

“It wasn't a suggestion, Lieutenant!” Your voice strained as you raised it to something above what you were comfortable with. “My office, now!” Pausing his trajectory without so much as looking back, Jake changed the direction he was heading. Turning as he made his way to your office. Turning back to Rooster holding the bridge of your nose. “Don’t you have better things to be doing? I’m sure Lieutenant Kazanksy is around somewhere, go annoy her!”

***~***~***~***~***~

Slouched in one of the arm chairs by your desk, Jake watched as you stepped through the threshold of your office. Anger evident on your face as you stuck your tongue against your cheek. Seething. Slamming the door behind you without even flinching. It was needless to say it was very out of the ordinary for you to lose your cool like this, you would consider yourself to be a pretty easy going, level headed person. But when it came to all things Jake Seresin? Level headedness was always the first thing to go flying out the window.

“I'm sorry–”

“Cut the shit!” It stung like venom. Sitting on the edge of your desk as you ripped in. “You don't ever get to treat me with such disrespect, of all people who I thought would’ve been okay with taking a direct order, it would be you. Mr only naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air to air kill.”

“I'm still getting used to the idea of you being a Commander, I slipped up, Ma’am.” Jake paused for a moment as his eyes trailed your body, biting his bottom lip gently as he pictures what might be hidden under your uniform. “I promise it won't happen again.”

“You know, I really do wonder what will be your last lie.” huffing softly in defeat you let your demeanor change. Dropping the attitude you hated having. You weren't an authoritative figure, you were simply just you. “But if you promise, I guess I'll just have to take your word won't I?” Nodding, Jake stood from his place in the chair near your desk, stepping closer as you pushed yourself a little further back on top of your desk. “What were you and Rooster really fighting about?” with your legs hanging over the side, Jake slipped in easily, one of your knees on either side of his left leg.

“You.” It came out with no hesitation as Jake let his hands linger along your hips.

“Me? I haven't done anything?” Realistically you hadn't. “How am I the problem here?”

“Please–I saw you and Bradshaw out the front of the Hard Deck.” Hangman wasn't willing to admit a lot of things, but there was one thing for sure. He was a very jealous man.

“You mean you saw me interacting with a friend, Jake you can't be serious.” Jake's grip on your hips got a little tighter as you dismissed his jealousy. Clenching his jaw as he looked at the ground. “You know we aren't together right? If I wanted to see other people I very well could.”

“Are you?” Jake finally met your gaze, his eyes just slightly glazed with what you could only describe as the beginning of tears. “Are you seeing anyone?” It was a heavier question than he ever thought it would be. To ask his wife, the love of his life if she was seeing someone new. Someone else besides him. “Because if you are, I'll respect it, just–just dont lie to me, that's all I ask.” His actions weren’t matching his words. Jake's hands slowly worked their way up your body, finding their home against your cheeks as he cupped your face in his hands. Softly, ever so gently caressing your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “I'll wanna beat the ever living shit out of whoever gets to call you theirs but i'll respect your decision.” it made you chuckle, you couldn't help it. Deciding to just come clean, with honesty and your heart on your sleeve. Pulling out your dog tags that hid under your uniform. Your wedding band looped around the silver ball chain.

“I'm not seeing anyone you idiot, but i'm not seeing you either.” Jake couldn't hold back his smirk, pressing his lips against yours as he held you close to him in the palms of his hands. Your lips soft against his as he deepening the kiss with every passing second. Tongues dancing like they'd done this on an endless loop before. You’d missed this. This feeling. The feeling of being loved. Being needed. But as always, it was forever fleeting. “Jake–”

“I know I know–” With his eyes closed and his forehead resting against yours, Jake Seresin for a moment had you in his grasp again. “Professionalism in the workplace.” Pulling away with a sigh, Jake let his hands drop to your knees. “But off the clock, dinner?”

“You asked me last night.” Reminding Jake as he stood in front of you, straddling your leg. His eyes widening at your attitude, placing a hand over his heart as if you'd shot him.

“You said no last night?” Yeah, you did do that didnt you? Oh well.

“Oh and you expect me to say yes now that you know i'm single?” It struck another raw nerve, but in the best way it possible could have as Jake kissed you once again. This time with more lust, with more passion. Harder and more fierce than before his teeth clashed against yours and his hand slightly wrapped around your throat. With just enough pressure to have your core paulse. Fuck.

“Your aren't single, you're married. To me! And I'm asking my wife to have dinner with me which is a very normal and socially acceptable thing to do.” You let him squirm for a moment, watching through hooded eyes as you decided if it would be a good idea or not to have dinner together. Deciding maybe throwing a dog a bone once in a while would be a good thing, what could possibly go wrong?

“Fine–”

***~***~***~***~***~

Five hours, twenty minutes and forty five seconds. That’s how long Jake Seresin had left before he’d be able to confidently stand at your door and pick you up for dinner. Although the Hard Deck was nothing special and would most likely be full of naval men and women all grabbing a bite to eat and a few drinks after a day's work. It was still special because it was with you.

“Sir, if I may?” You weren't the type of person to interrupt, you took orders accordingly and spoke when you were spoken to. “I have a concept I’d like to address—while we’re all here?” Waiting for a moment, you couldn’t help but to think Admiral Beau was about to reprimand you for interrupting the debrief. The mission parameters were so important for the pilots to understand, who the hell did you think you were interrupting.

“Make it quick—“ With his arms crossed, you let a small sigh of relief escape as you nodded softly. Handing Pete Mitchell your clipboard as you worked with the interactive map that lit up before the TopGun graduates.

Jake sat a little straighter in his chair, chewing his gum with a stare that saw directly into your soul. This was odd? You weren’t normally one to step out of line like this. You followed protocol to the fucking letter. Crossed all the T’s and dotted all the i’s. For you to interrupt during the middle of a debrief? Un fucking heard off.

“I’ve been up all night thinking this could be done better.” Your eyes were still bloodshot from all the ways you’d tried to go about this at different angle. Settling on the one you were about to present. “But, if this is the carrier and this is the airbase, and this is the target point.” Drawing a line from points A B and C with your index finger. “I propose we have the pilots fly directly from point A being the carrier to point C being the target.”

“We need the super hornets to fly over the airbase in order to disarm the enemy. Missiles will be dropped from a higher altitude—“

“What if we used something else to dismantle the enemy’s airfield, sir.”

“I’m assuming you already have an idea, Lieutenant Commander?” Maverick answered with a smirk, enjoying this just a little too much. Anyone who could twist Admiral Beaus' knickers in a knot was considered a friend. He liked you—for someone well reserved and on the quiet side you had balls.

“Tomahawks Sir, we can launch them directly from the carrier a minute or so after initial take off—giving the team the advantage of time.”

“I’m sorry—what did you say you actually do?” Fanboy didn’t mean for it to sound rude, he was just genuinely intrigued. “I think I missed the part where everyone was told what your role was.” Looking his way with a soft gaze, you tried your best to puff your chest a little. Knowing you were pretty good at your job.

“I’m an analyst—“

“A bloody good one at that.” Admiral Beau approached you from his seat at the back of the room, looking at your drawn up proposal on the interactive board. “Damn, this is—this is genius, a million dollar idea but still, genius.”

Jake couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. You were brilliant in every sense of the word. For a meeting he’d forgotten just how intelligent you truly were, how you managed to make an incredibly hard job so easy. Staring as you softly swayed side to side, accepting the praise you received from your superiors. Melting inside when your eyes met his. The smile, beaming just for you, his heart beating with such love and admiration. Admiring you from his seat in the front.

“Damn— tomahawks huh?” Jake walked with you out towards the tarmac, his first run through with the new flight path set and ready for about twenty minutes' time. Bumping your hip, his way of flirting. Bumping him back—your way of flirting. “You really think that’ll work?”

“I think it’s the safest option, unnecessary diversion from what’s essentially a straight shot just doesn’t make sense to me—“ Pausing your explanation when you noticed Jake smirking to himself. “What?”

“Nothing nothing!” He chuckled. “I just, I could listen to you all day, honestly but—how about you tell me in full detail over dinner tonight.” Jake beamed as he started jogging away, turning to run backwards as he waited for you to reply. Rooster zipping past with his helmet in his hand. Catching up to where your ex husband, Hangman stood.

Feeling overly vulnerable. You hugged yourself gently. Watching as Jake sent you a wink.

“Dinner! I’ll pick you up at seven!” It made you swoon. Trying to hide your smile as you shouted after him.

“Deal.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @justanothermagicalsara @alexsisrebekah @stinkyjax @starkleila

[yourlastbraincell-kiwi]

Holding Out Hope.

Pairing: Newt x Fem!Reader

A/N: This takes place in the third movie, and the reader finds out, what potentially could happen to Newt.

“What, you’re afraid your little girlfriends gonna get hurt?” He stated rather then asked Thomas. “Hm? Because this has never been just about rescuing Minho. Has it?”

What is going on?

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Thomas asked, with genuine confusion plastered on his face. “Teresa. She’s the only reason that Minho’s even missing in the first place.” Newt said, getting closer, and Thomas took cautious steps back, til he was almost up against the wall. “Now we finally have an opportunity to get him back. And what? You don’t want to because of her? Because deep down inside you still care about her, don’t you? Just admit it.”

Newt, what has gotten into you?

“Newt, I…” Thomas tried to reply, but Newt forced his back against the wall. “Don’t lie to me!” He exclaimed, and my heart starts pounding in my chest. And by the looks of Brenda, I’m not the only one whose frightened. “Don’t lie to me!”

“Newt!” I slowly move over to him trying to call him over, but he ignored me, sending death glares at Thomas. I move in close enough to put a hand on his shoulder. “Newt..”

“Don’t you dare touch me!” He exclaimed, letting go of Thomas, and points at me. If my heart wasn’t beating fast before, it sure was now. “You’re always so damn touchy. Leave me the hell alone!” He said, as I completely backed off and looked at the floor.

I don’t know what the reason was for his sudden outburst, but all it did was make me want to cave into myself, and just disappear. Him just now registering what he just said, he apologized to the both of us, and everyone in the room.

I nod, “It’s okay.” I said, really trying to convince myself, rather then I was him. It still didn’t stop the thoughts from flooding into my brain.

Was I being too clingy and touchy? Has he been keeping that too himself, all this time? Was he putting up with it, just so he didn’t hurt my feelings?

I was an over-thinker, always thinking about stuff, I did right or wrong. All the things, I could have done better or what I could have done instead, I was always like that, even before the Glade.

I also had a tendency to forget about my surroundings and the outside world, when I was nose deep in a good book, but I’m not reading and I sure as hell wasn’t born yesterday.

He’s infected.

I’ve know Newt for a little over a year now, so I’d be damned if I didn’t know him like I know my own name. He would never just yell at someone like that. And I know that once you’re infected, it makes you do things of that nature. As much I didn’t want to believe it, Newt was probably infected, and we aren’t doing a damn thing about it at the moment.

I was too busy, bouncing those thoughts in my head, to even notice he had left the room, and Thomas came up to me. “I’ll talk to him.” I nod, and as he turned to leave I stop him. “Thomas?” He turns, saying nothing, but that didn’t stop me from telling him. “Be gentle.” He looked down at ground for a little, before meeting my eyes again, sent a curt nod my way.

Whilst Thomas was talking with Newt, he found out that he had been infected, hence the reason as to why he had yelled at the two. “I’ll go tell (Y/N)..”

“Don’t. Don’t tell her. I have to be one to tell her.” He said, Thomas didn’t respond, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t listening. “I don’t know how. I don’t know when. But I will.”

He didn’t want to tell her, cause he knew how she’d react. After a year together in the Glade, for most of the time spent there they were friends, until Newt asked her out one day. He knew her like this back of his hand.

He knew, that’d she be both scared for him, and mad at him.

Scared, due to the fact that she was going to lose, not just her partner, but someone she called one of her best friends. Mad at him because he didn’t tell her sooner, and that they’re wasting time, when they should be getting him the cure. If there even was one.

I let out a sigh, that came out shakier then intended, but I still held my head up going over to ask Gal, “Where did they go?” He says they went up to the roof, and I immediately trudge all the way up there. I know for damn sure, I’m not, going to sit here and wait for Newt to turn, right in front of me.

Fuck. That.

“Newt!” I exclaimed, as they exchanged looks, and Newt mumbled a curse under his breath, they stood up turning to face me. I stalk over to him, examining his face and chest to see any signs that could confirm my suspicions.

“(Y/N), please..” He tried to move my hands away from him. I scoff, “Please’ my ass, where is it?” Yanking my hands from his, going to back look. “Love, just stop.”

I ignore him and don’t stop looking, as tears brimmed my eye lids, I tried blinking them away, but they only blurred my vision. “Babe!”

“Just show me!” I exclaimed, unable to hide the fact that, I was seconds away from bawling my eyes out. He sighs and pulls up his sleeve, revealing the purple veins, on his right arm.

I backed away, my bottom lip quivered as I placed my hands over my mouth.

I felt like screaming. Kicking something, breaking something, throwing something all at the same time.

“(Y/N)..” He reached out, gently grab one my hands, and I place the hand that I left on my face over my entire mouth. “I knew it. I fucking knew it.” I mumbled into my hand.

“Listen to me, love.”

“I hoped. I hoped!” I said, as a cry got caught in my throat, and Newt brought me into a hug. “Listen to me, don’t worry about me.”

“I can’t help, but worry about you, in this shit world we live in.”

“I know, but you have to try, okay? We’ll find the cure. And I’ll be okay.”

“But- But what if?” I was going to saying, but Newt quickly put a stop to those negative thoughts. “Don’t even think about that, you hear me? We will get that cure. And I. Will. Be. Fine.” He said and I nod, and leans down kissing the top of my head, looking over at Thomas, with a look of uncertainty.

But (Y/N) didn’t need to know that.

[thatgoblin]

Summary: Two Weeks in and you're finding a rhythm of sorts with your new Alphas, but it's not without bumps.

Warnings: Some mild gendered harassment, but nothing too terrible.

~::~::~::~::~::~::~

It had been nearly two weeks since I’d come to live with John and Simon. In those two weeks we built a new routine around each other that had us dancing in sync as if we’d been living together for years. For them it might have been years, but throwing a new person into the mix would take time to get the rhythm going again with added steps. We were getting better each day though. 

It was the Sunday after the end of the second week when someone in a U-Haul drove up to the house. John had been able to contact my parents and was able to arrange for my things to be delivered. While my relationship with John and Simon was better than at the start of all of this, my relationship with my parents had crashed and burned. I still had not heard from them, via call or text or email or even snail mail, and the two men who moved my stuff across the state were old schoolmates of mine, the Walker brothers, Logan and David. 

Unfortunately. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” David, the blockier of the two, crowed as he saw me when I came out of the house. “When your parents said you went off and found yourself a pair of Alphas, I thought they had made it up just to save face.”

“I mean, half the town did anyways,” Logan, the other man that sported a crew cut, said with a chuckle. “At least now we know it’s mostly true.”

“Just shut up and unload the stuff,” I said with a sigh. There couldn’t be that much, I didn’t have a whole lot to begin with. John and Simon were out with the cattle, leaving me alone to scrub the house. I had gotten up early and began to deep clean despite them telling me I didn’t need to. The house was kept in good shape, but there were cobwebs and the floors needed mopping, not to mention the windows. I wasn’t usually such a neat freak, but something came over me and the need to clean the place was too strong to control. Simon said something about anxiety, but I wasn’t willing to look at the feeling too close, just cleaning to ease it.

“So rude still,” Logan said with a snort. “Thought your new Alphas would have taught you how to speak to others.”

“I know how to speak to people who respect me,” I hissed as David unlocked the back of the truck. “Just take the boxes to the living room and then you can go.”

“Oh, come on,” David cooed. “We’re just playing. It’s been a while since we last saw you, figured you’d have grown more into your sex rather than away from it.”

“Yeah,” Logan said as he grabbed a box from the back. “Last time we saw you, you were the only Omega to graduate high school and get any sort of college. But that didn’t last from what I heard.”

“Didn’t you get kicked out of the community college for assaulting a teacher?” David asked, moving past me and into the house. “Yeah I think you did. Didn’t you slug him when he offered a ‘special’ tutoring session? Pretty sure they had to call security to pull you off him.”

“Such a mean Omega,” Logan added as he passed by as well. “I’m surprised anyone wanted you. Your parents probably had to pay someone to take you.”

“You are all the way across the state, so I bet they didn’t tell your Alphas about how nasty an Omega you are,” David said, coming out to leer at me. 

“Just shut up and do your job. My parents didn’t pay you two needle dicks to jibber jabber like a couple of old bitties,” I snarled. My blood was boiling as I held back from throwing my fists at them. What the hell were my parents thinking in sending these assholes? Why couldn’t they have just sent a moving company? It wasn’t like I had furniture to move. Then again, my parents probably thought these two were cheaper and my resentment towards them grew.

“We’re not in school anymore,” David snapped, getting in my space. “You don’t get to get away with acting like an Alpha when you’re not one.”

“David, come on,” Logan said as he suddenly became nervous, glancing over his shoulder as I glared back at David, refusing to be cowed by him.  

“You know, you ought to have someone teach you how to address your superiors,” David growled, getting in my space more and more. “Omegas shouldn’t talk back to those above them.”

“And Alphas shouldn’t have to threaten anyone to get respect,” I snarled, not moving an inch. “You’re just a shitty guy who only knows how to get attention by being an asshole to everyone around you.”

“David, come on dude,” Logan said, pulling the other Alpha away and to the truck. “Let’s just get this shit unloaded.”

“Fine,” David growled as I stayed on the porch, glaring at them. I had been the only Omega at a rural school system and if I hadn’t been as tough and mean as I had been with everyone then I would have gotten hurt or worse. 

They finished moving the boxes as I saw John and Simon getting closer on horseback. I felt better knowing they were nearby with the other two still there. 

“You know, you’re lucky you got out of town,” David said he stopped in front of me. “You could have gotten sold to me instead,” he sneered.

“Fuck off,” I snapped, my fists clenched and aching to swing on him. “I didn’t get sold to anyone.” 

“That’s not what everyone in town is saying,” David said. “We heard you wouldn’t settle for anyone, that you were too wild. So your parents sold you to a couple of old Alphas to tame you. That they liked kinky things with Omega virgins.” Grabbing my wrist and pulling me close, he snickered in my ear as I struggled against him. He was all muscle from being on the football team back home to going straight into work at the mill tossing bags of feed. 

“Get off,” I growled, pushing back against him. Fuck, even with the work I’d been doing on my own farm and with my Alphas’ the asshole was strong. “You’re gross and never going to find anyone to like you, you fuckin’ has been!” 

“David!” Logan barked, trying to warn his brother, but it was too late. 

“Hey!” Simon snarled as he and John came running to the porch. This giant Grim Reaper looking man with black eye makeup and skeleton gloves must have looked terrifying as Logan stumbled back and David dropped my wrist. “Get your fuckin’ hands off her!” Simon didn’t even pause as he threw a punch, nailing David in the face. David was knocked on his ass, letting me go. While they all probably expected me to run and be comforted by my Alphas, I was trying to jump back on David. John had to catch me and pull me away as Simon dealt with them. 

“John, let me go!” I cried.

“No, you’re going to hurt someone or yourself,” he grunted, holding me tight around the middle. 

“I know you two were paid by her parents to deliver their stuff, but you can either get the fuck off of our property now or you’re going to wish you’d never taken this job,” Simon threatened, glaring at both the younger Alpha’s. David was holding a bloody nose and mouth as Logan looked on wide eyed. “Now!”

“Yes, sir!” Logan yelped as he grabbed David and all but ran to the truck. 

“Fuck off!” I yelled, flipping them the bird again as Logan backed the truck up then drove off down the long dirt road. 

“Love, calm down,” John said, finally letting me go. “You’re acting like a feral cat trying to fight everything.”

“You okay?” Simon asked, still tense and chest heaving from the adrenaline as he walked back over to us where we stood on the porch. He was frowning, even behind the mask I could tell, as he held out a hand to hover near me as he looked me over for any injuries. It was still giving me the space I needed while being concerned and showing it.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said with a huff as I was let go, smoothing down my clothes. “Just pissed cause they started shit.”

“You know them?” John asked as he moved over to look at John’s fist. 

“I went to school with them. They’re mad cause I never submitted to them or anyone, so they tried to start something when they thought no one was around,” I said, looking over to the Alphas’ as John carefully cradled Simon’s hand after taking his glove off. “Did you hurt yourself?” I asked, concerned as I got close to him as well, wanting to see the damage if there was any.

“It’ll take more than just a small swing to hurt me, Sweetheart,” Simon said with a chuckle. “So long as you’re fine.” He reached out, running a hand over my hair to smooth it down while also offering comfort, but I ducked away. I wasn’t ready for that much affection yet. The most we did was pat each other on the back and grooming or cuddling them at night when we slept, but that was it. 

“I’m good. I’m gonna go unpack my stuff in my room,” I said. “Thanks for the assist.” I didn’t want a discussion over what happened or about me ducking away. Not giving them the time to call after me, I instead walked into the house to begin moving my boxes. There were almost ten boxes, but they were all mostly full of books and art supplies. I had a desk in my room where I could set up a drawing corner, but I’d have to either see about building shelves or buying them. The down side, well one of many, of being an Omega was that I didn’t really earn any money. It had all been through my dad’s name or in my new case through John and Simon’s name. 

I’d have to ask them for the money to do it, but I wouldn’t. There would be a way to figure it out and it would just take time. So the books would just have to stay in the boxes stacked against the wall. Some of the boxes were clothes that I actually needed, like my coats and thicker pants and shirts. The rest of the boxes were just stuff that I didn’t even realize I had, like little knick knacks and trinkets I had made or collected over the years. John and Simon did help carry the boxes up the stairs, but I wanted to unpack them alone. It was my stuff and with having my own room, even if I didn’t sleep in it, I wanted to put things up my way. They let me be while they went outside, respecting my wishes. 

What I hadn’t planned on was getting choked up from the items I found that were packed in one particular box. It had to have been a mistake, an accidental box put onto the truck. The last box I looked into held things I had made for my parents in school. Small clay bowls, drawings in frames, certificates of achievement. Why did they send these? Why not keep them and hang them up like they had been when I lived there? I made these for them. I wanted them to have them, to show off and be proud of what I achieved. Why give them back?

A small paper cow, something small insignificant, was the straw on the camel’s back. While John and Simon were outside with the horses or working in the garden, I was in my room, crying over a paper cow I had made for my dad on Father’s day when I was 6. I had wanted to be a rancher just like him, to take over the ranch for him, but. . . I wasn’t what he wanted. I wasn’t what either of my parents wanted. 

I threw the cow onto the ground, stomping on it as tears fell down my face, cursing my parents. When I saw the cow had torn, I stopped in a panic. 

“No, no, no,” I whimpered, picking it up. It fit in my palm, but after the stomping it was crumbled and dirty with the head hanging on by a sliver of paper. “Fuck, why do I ruin things?”

“You don’t.” I looked up from hovering over the paper animal cradled in my hands to see John standing there with a furrowed brow. “You don’t ruin things.” Coming into the room, he looked at the paper cow before taking it gently from my hand. At my desk, he found tape to carefully wrap it up and fix it. “Here,” he said as he handed it back. 

“If I don’t ruin things, why did they leave me?” I asked softly, looking down at the cow back in my hands. Sitting on the bed, I kept my bleary vision on the paper in my hand. If I looked up at John I’d start sobbing. “They didn’t want me anymore because there’s something wrong with me.”

“There’s not a thing wrong with you, Darling,” John said, sitting right next to me, pushing our shoulders together. “They just don’t know how to treat someone like you.” 

“Someone like me? Who am I like!? Some freak of nature that doesn’t know how to act like the right gender!?” I cried as I stood up, shirking away from the touch before putting the cow on the desk safely away from my angry boots. “Someone who doesn’t know how to be a good mate?! Or-or someone who doesn’t know how to be a normal person!?”

“Hey,” John said softly, standing with me. “Shhh,” he hushed me, putting a hand on my shoulder and one on my face to force me to look at him. “What I mean is that they didn’t know how to treat someone who always had to be hard on the outside. You weren’t treated right by that place or them and they didn’t realize it or want to realize it. That’s their fault, not yours.” 

“No one wants me though, not for the right reasons,” I said, breaking down into the sobs I had been trying to avoid. “They had to pay for you to take me!” 

“They didn’t pay us,” John said, stroking my hair as he pulled me close. “They didn’t pay us a cent to take you. I promise. We wanted you because of who you are, not what you are.” I clung to John, gripping his shirt tight as I buried my face into his chest with heaving sobs. He didn’t leave or try to push me away, only held me and stroked my hair while whispering reassurances to me like I was Ollie after a long ride. While I probably would have been upset that he was using his horse voice on me if I was more aware, at that moment I appreciated it. I didn’t get that from my parents, the comforting touches as I cried over mean kids from school or a skinned knee from climbing trees. 

The affection and love that I should have gotten from them was given to me by Simon and John, even if it was only small touches and soft words. I didn’t know how to deal with it as it was so foreign to me. By the time that I had calmed down enough to hiccups with red, puffy eyes, Simon had come in from the garden and it was lunch time. John had me lay down with a cool, wet cloth over my face as he and Simon went about getting food for themselves. I imagined John explained what had happened because after I calmed down and felt more at ease, I was back to deep cleaning and rearranging. Simon came back in to give me a shoulder squeeze and tell me I was doing a good job, that he was proud of me. 

I started crying again at that, earning a panicked look from Simon. He quickly apologized and left, leaving me with my need to clean still there but more weepy. Finished with the house deep cleaning, supper was ready. John had made pizza from scratch and made sure to clean up as best he could as I had finished the kitchen earlier in the day. Showered first that night, I made sure the two men gave me their dirty clothes so I could get them in with the rest of the laundry later. 

When it was time to settle down for the night, in our usual spots on the couch in front of the TV, the Alphas took their usual spots while I surprised them. Instead of going to the floor next to Simon’s feet, I curled up against John on the couch, sitting between the two. Both looked at me wide eyed as I pressed to his side, even raising his arm myself to wrap around me. They didn’t say anything though, knowing I’d most likely growl and pull away. 

Maybe John was right. I was a feral cat. 

“Can we go to town tomorrow?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the TV. “I wanna get some shelves for my books or to get stuff to make shelves.” Also something new. I didn’t ask for anything. I didn’t take anything either. Unless I needed it, I didn’t bring it up. 

“I’m sure we can arrange that, Sweetheart,” John said as he rubbed my legs, his hand having found its way there. “What time do you wanna go?”

“After morning chores,” I said, looking at the two Alphas. “I can do some extra work to pay for them, if you want me to.”

“Don’t worry about a thing,” John said with a chuckle. “You want shelves, we’ll get you all the shelves you want.” He reached out again, like earlier in the day, to stroke my hair. This time I didn’t pull away. I leaned into it even, practically purring. The rest of the night was spent like that. Curled up against one another till it was time for bed, only moving to continue holding one another under the covers. 

The next morning, I was thrumming with excitement. While John and Simon went about their normal speeds of getting up and having their coffee, I was already dressed and making breakfast. They didn’t hide the smiles on their faces as they watched me buzz around like a hummingbird. It was the first time I’d been excited for something since I’d arrived at the ranch. For shelves no less. 

When morning chores were done and everyone had washed up, I was already in the big pick up truck waiting. “Come on, boys! We’re burning daylight!” I called, giving a few honks. 

“It’s 9 AM! We’ve got plenty of time to go by the store,” John called back from the porch as Simon laughed. 

“You don’t know that! There could be a major shortage of shelves!” I said as they walked over. John shooed me to the middle as he got in the driver’s seat and Simon got in the passenger side. It would also be my first trip to town. All I knew of it was that it was small like my hometown and was probably almost the same, just in a different configuration. The drive there wasn’t short, almost half an hour, but it didn’t kill my mood. In fact, I was still bouncing in my seat as John parked in front of a small furniture store. 

“Now, just keep calm and hold one of our hands at all times,” John said as he helped me from the truck.

“Wait what?” I asked. The calm part I could get, but holding a hand? 

“They’re older folks and it’s just easier to let them die with their ways instead of fighting with them,” Simon said, his gloved fingers weaving with mine as he stepped next to me. “We’ll get your shelves, don’t worry about that.”

“Okay. . . I guess,” I said. Holding Simon’s hand, we walked into the store to begin looking around. It was full of nice things, maybe a bit dated, but nice. I didn’t want anything too heavy or too expensive, just something to hold books. 

“Howdy folks! What can I do ya for?” An older man asked, seemingly coming from nowhere. It spooked me enough I ran into Simon when the balding man spoke up. Simon chuckled softly, keeping me on my feet and from crashing into anything else.

“Hello,” John said with a wave. “We’re looking for a couple of shelves.”

“Three sets,” I said, but didn’t get too excited. I was actually trying to listen to John. 

“What the little lady said, three sets of shelves,” John said, chuckling.

“I am a little lady,” I said under my breath with a smirk, getting a snort from Simon.

“Well come on over here, we’ve got all kinds of shelves to pick from. You folks have anything in mind?” The salesman asked. “I’m Bill, by the way, pleasure to meet you all.”

“Pleasure,” John said as we followed, introducing us. “What kind of shelves are we looking for, Sweetheart?”

“We are looking for shelves to hold books and knick knacks,” I said. “Nothing fancy, just the capacity to hold things and not break.”

“Alright, it sounds like the little lady knows what she wants,” Bill said with a laugh.

“That she does,” John said, smiling softly at me. 

“Here we have some nice ones that come in a dark finish. They’re solid oak, not particle board so they’ll be good to hand down through the generations,” Bill said as he showed us the first set. Then there was another set almost exactly like that one, just in a different shade. In fact all the shelves he showed us were basically the same thing, just in a different shade. Looking at the prices I couldn’t help making the faces I did. I looked from the price tag to John and Simon with wide eyes. $500 a piece. 

“Uh, do you have anything cheaper?” I asked, looking over to Bill. He glanced at me, but kept his focus on John and Simon. 

“You gentlemen wanna look at something cheaper or stick with something that’s a sure thing?” Bill asked. Did he just ignore me?! Simon squeezed my hand to remind me to stay calm. We were in town and fighting with a sales person was not something to end well. I grasped his hand with both of mine to keep myself in control. 

“Let’s look at something cheaper. She wasn't wanting to drop $1,500 on shelves today and I don’t blame her,” John said. 

“Oh I’m sure we can find something that y’all would like,” Bill said, taking us to a different section of the store. There we found cheaper shelves to put up, but they weren’t exactly what I wanted. They were still expensive for what they were and I just couldn’t justify spending so much money on them when I wasn’t even the one paying for them.

“I don’t really see anything I like,” I said, trying to be as polite as possible as I looked over each shelf. “Maybe we can try a different place.”

“Oh, hold on now,” Bill said with a chuckle. “I’m sure that me and your mates could come to a decision for ya on price. I mean, you don’t want some simple shelving units that’ll fall apart in a few months if you decide to redecorate the house.”

“It’s not for the house, it’s for my room,” I said, locking a glare on Bill. “They’re not my mates either.”

“Let’s just go,” Simon said quietly, already smelling the distinct scent of me getting riled up. He was trying to usher us away, but Bill had to open his mouth. 

“You oughta keep your Omega in line there,” Bill said to John, shaking his head as Simon tried to pull me away by my hand. “They need to be taught to be more respectful.”

“What’d you say!?” I cried, letting go of Simon to turn on my heel to face a suddenly surprised Bill. “You wanna talk about respect, actually listen to your customers no matter who they are, ya walking Rogaine Ad looking ass!” I snarled. Simon already wrapped an arm around my middle to drag me away as John followed, both looking panicked. Whether it was over getting kicked out of the store or me unleashing my wrath or both, they wanted out of there.

“Why don’t you boys come back without them and I’m sure we could work something out without a hormonal Omega actin’ up,” Bill said. That made them pause. The men looked at each other then to me as I practically frothed at the mouth. 

“Better watch out, Bill,” Simon said, letting me go with a smirk. “She’s feral.” That was all the permission I needed before I marched right up to Bill who went white as a sheet. 

“You wanna act like I don’t exist or have feelings, fine! But you don’t get to publicly shame me because of my gender, got it Bill!” I snapped, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You’re just a snub nose asshat that’s more concerned about what’s in someone’s pants than actually getting a sale and you have the balls to get huffy at me for calling you out on it!? Maybe there’d be more people in here if you didn’t over-price your 1950’s shabby decor and act like a pias jackwagon by alienating your customers! Next time you see me, you better act like a decent person instead of some bigoted, capitalist pig that doesn’t care about anybody but himself, ya hear!?” Bill was silent as I had backed him in a literal corner of one of his sectionals with my ‘Omega hormones’.

“Yes, of course,” he said, nodding and shaking. 

“Good, now we’ll take the dark stained oak shelves for $200 a piece. That’s more than what they’re worth,” I said, crossing my arms in front of me as Simon and John moved to stand behind me. 

“Of course, right away,” Bill nodded. I stepped to the side to let him pass, not paying mind to anyone else in the store who was watching. Not that there were many to begin with. I marched with my men behind me to the register where John handed over the money with a smirk on his face. In a matter of 20 minutes we were loaded up and headed home. While neither John nor Simon said a word, I felt pleased with myself. 

At home, we unloaded the shelves and hauled them to my room. Once they were set up, I let them help me unpack the last of my boxes. Books and sketch pads all fit perfectly how I wanted them to and even had some help with Simon setting things on the tippy top as well. 

Finished, we stepped back to admire our work. I couldn’t stop grinning as I stood there next to the Alphas, all of us hot and sweaty from the moving of the large shelves, but satisfied. I did that. I didn’t compromise who I was or what I could do and I got what I wanted. The boys probably got what they wanted too, which I knew was not the shelves. My arms wound around their waists to pull them close for hugs; allowing me to scent them slightly to claim them as my own. They were my pack and I was theirs. 

John was the first to scent me back, rubbing his cheek against my head followed by Simon. I didn’t pull away either. It was the first time in a long time that I felt lighter. That instead of heaving my own baggage along with others’ doubts, stereotypes, and sexism alone, I had help. I had my pack. An honest to god pack of my own that no one could take from me. 

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[avocado-writing]

Request if I may:

Aziraphale is getting excited about getting his hands on a rare original copy of a book, but for the first time ever, your angel is being oh so very secretive about what it is.

Aziraphale is busy when the delivery arrives and being curious you open the packaging.

Your angel has gotten a copy of the karma sutra. Well, you need to try it out to make sure it's an authentic copy of the book.

notes: nothing too graphic in this one but still…

rating: M

pairing: aziraphale x reader

Aziraphale has a secret. 

This much you know. He’s trying to hide something and it’s not fooling you for a second: the constant pacing in front of the windows, peeking out of the shop’s front door. You’ve asked him what’s got him so antsy but he swears up and down he’s fine. 

You know better. He’s about as subtle as a brick to the face when he’s trying to keep something under wraps. So you watch him from behind your novel, keeping him under your surveillance without his knowledge. 

Ahh, he is so easy to find out. 

You see the way his eyes widen when he spots the postman coming towards the shop, the quick exchange of a parcel for a signature. The way he tried to hurriedly hide it in his storeroom - the old one with the wonky latch which never shuts properly. Honestly, you’d be a fool not to look. So, when he’s busying himself making a cup of tea for five minutes, you take the chance. 

The packaging has been ripped open — most unlike your angel, he’s usually careful when unboxing his mail. He likely wanted to confirm the contents and then squirrel it away; as you peel back some of the cardboard you see why. 

Oh. Oh. 

It’s old. Far too old to be delivered by such usual means of postage you’re sure; but it seems to have been secured quite thoroughly. You know the Karma Sutra is widely read but you don’t think you’ve ever seen a copy in real life. But here it is. In your hands. 

Hmm, you can see why Aziraphale was hiding it.  

“Where are you, my dear? I have your cup of —oh.”

Aziraphale catches you. Of course he does. Damn that storeroom door, always swinging open. You’re caught red-handed, book in your grasp and eyes wide. His eyes go wider and his cheeks a bright pink. 

“Oh, erm, right. It’s not mine! Well it is, I was just… I was ordering it for a customer, and I…”

“Aziraphale,” you say, trying to hide your smirk, “you’ve never ordered anything for a customer in your life.”

“I… well… no. I suppose not,” he confesses, dropping his gaze to the floor. He begins to fiddle with the bottom of his waistcoat, a sure sign of his nervousness. You tread over towards him carefully, holding the book so gingerly someone might mistake it for an explosive. 

“Aziraphale, it’s alright. There’s nothing wrong with having it, you know. I suppose I’m just a little surprised. Did you want to… study?”

He clears his throat and nods, still unable to meet your eyes. 

“Yes. A little. It’s the book for it, you know.”

“Well that’s true. I just don’t quite understand why.”

When his cheeks go even pinker, and he looks like he’d rather discorporate than continue standing in front of you for a moment longer, you realise. 

“Oh my god, it’s for me, isn’t it? It’s because of me,” you blurt out, totally unable to keep the idea inside. Of course it is; you’re so obtuse. You’ve been seeing Aziraphale for a couple of months with nothing more than a couple of hot and heavy kisses to show for it - which you were fine with! Being an angel, you weren’t sure he was a sexual being at all. But now to find out he’s not just interested in it but he’s actually doing research to make sure it’s good… 

Oh. It’s delicious. It’s all so delicious. 

Seeing as he appears to be rooted to the spot you finally close the gap and press a kiss to his lips. He seems surprised by it but welcome, gently pressing himself against you as you take him in your arms. 

“You know, I’d be more than willing to be your study partner. Right now if you want…”

In answer to that the shop is closed immediately and the two of you retire to the bedroom. Learning to fuck from a book is perfect for your angel and, by god, is he a thorough student. 

taglist: @angiestopit@dazed-soul @@foolishprincipalitee@smile-eywa@staygoldsquatchling02@underratedboogeyman@cool-ontherun-world@emilynissangtr@cool-iguana@this--is--music @ilyatan @lxsm2@clarina04@wtfhasmy-lifecometo@mrgatotortuga@wereallbrokenangels @night-affiliate @silcosmoke@kimqueenofhell@chewbrry @bajablast23 @h3k3t@am-i-obsessed---maybe@bakerstreethound@darktealrat @chaospossum

[seiya-starsniper]

sweet like poison ivy

Quite literally at the 11th hour, my final late fill for @monsterfucktoberbingo!

Rating: Explicit | Square: plant-monster | Word count: 880

“Well, this is different,” Hob says as a long green vine wraps itself around his neck while another snakes its way around his waist.

“This is your dreamscape, Hob,” Dream replies, a small smirk tugging on his lips, which were now painted a deep, tempting shade of red. “Perhaps you were thinking of the seductress from the film we had been watching before you fell asleep?”

Ah, that was right. Batman and Robin had been randomly playing on the telly when they’d been flipping channels before bed. Hob wasn’t the biggest fan of superhero movies from that decade, but Uma Thurman…well, who could look away from her?

Clearly his dreaming mind agreed, for it had imagined Dream in a similar outfit; a dark green leotard decorated in leaves and vines, and stockings to match. They elongated Dream’s legs in a rather fetching way if Hob said so himself.

“So does this make me Batman then?” Hob asks, waggling his eyebrows. “Are you here to seduce and poison me so you can overthrow the London government and have it run by plants?”

“Nothing so crude,” Dream answers, stepping closer into Hob’s space. Hob notices more vines have sprouted since they started talking, and quite a few of them have gotten bold in the places where they’re touching him. “My plans for tonight are a touch more…personal than that.”

Hob shudders as a vine pinches one of his nipples through his nightshirt. 

“Gonna tie me up and have your wicked way with me then?” he grins, then yelps when one of the wines smacks his ass. Now the vines are getting more handsy with him, pulling and tugging at his nightclothes, while Dream, smug bastard that he is, seems content to watch them manhandle Hob.

Not one to take a challenge lying down, he reaches for Dream’s wrist and tugs his inhuman boyfriend into a kiss. He gets a few good licks into Dream’s mouth before he starts to feel lightheaded, and then suddenly, he finds himself pulled backwards onto a plush soft bed he’s certain wasn’t there a few minutes ago. Time in the Dreaming passed weirdly though, he’d figured that out pretty damn quickly once he and Dream had started dating.

“Didja just…poison me?” Hob slurs, into the satin soft sheets. They feel so nice against his naked skin. Wait. Where had his clothes gone? Damnit Dream. Hob tries to move his limbs, but he finds that his whole body’s bit sluggish, and from above him, he can hear Dream chuckling.

“My apologies,” Dream says, brushing a cool hand across his forehead. “I couldn’t resist reenacting that part of her character.”

Almost as suddenly as it had come, Hob’s head immediately clears from the weird haze he had fallen into and he can move his limbs once more. He grabs the hand still pressed to his forehead, and Dream yelps as Hob tugs him down into the mattress, vines and all. 

“Little shit,” Hob grins, as he straddles Dream’s hips and stares fondly down at his lover. “Let’s leave the poison kiss out of this fantasy shall we? I’d hate to be able to not kiss those pretty lips of yours.”

“Ah yes, that would be a shame, wouldn’t it?” Dream replies with a smirk of his own, right before one of his vines wraps itself around Hob’s cock. Hob moans as the vine squeezes him with just the right amount of pressure, and he ruts eagerly into it, chasing his pleasure. Another vine pinches at his nipples, while yet another teases at his hole.

“Enjoying yourself?” Hob pants as he’s teased mercilessly over and over again. The vines then change their direction and start maneuvering him off of Dream’s body and into an upright kneeling position and tying his hands behind his back. He moans when the vine teasing his hole simply sinks into his body, rubbing insistently at his prostate and causing Hob to jerk uncontrollably as he’s stimulated over and over. 

“I am, indeed,” Dream answers, his voice pitched low, almost to a growl. His costume from earlier has now melted off his skin, but the vines, of course, remained. Dream seems to greatly enjoy how much they drive Hob wild, and here in the Dreaming, Hob’s orgasm belongs to Dream and Dream alone, so it could be hours, or even days (in Dreaming time, of course) before Hob would be allowed to come. 

Hob licks his lips and then groans as the vines stimulate him once more. 

“Come on now, Dream, surely you want to do some of the work yourself,” Hob teases, wiggling his hips suggestively. He knows the taunt is a weak one, Dream could just as easily reply that he was doing the work, that the vines were an extension of himself, afterall. 

But Dream seems willing to indulge him tonight, for the vines soon disappear, leaving Hob feeling bereft and empty. Without the vines to hold him up, he sways towards Dream, who catches him and cards his fingers through his hair.

“So impatient,” Dream murmurs into his ear. “Whatever shall I do with you?” 

“Do your worst,” Hob challenges his lover with a grin. “Tomorrow is Saturday, so I can sleep in tomorrow.”

Dream’s returning smile is feral. 

“As you wish.”

[theladyofdeath]

Better or Worse {19}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: Two more chapters! Thank you all for sticking along for the journey. Enjoy!

The weeks have passed by quickly and in less than twenty four hours I’ll be standing at the altar with my husband, renewing our vows.

Throwing a ceremony together so quickly has been exhausting, especially considering my book released last week, but I’ve actually enjoyed the chaos. My sisters have helped tremendously, even in the moments that I’ve insisted that I didn’t need their help. Nonetheless, tomorrow's success will go to them. We’ve all worked hard as hell, which is why the three of us are currently dressed in our finest and sitting on the rooftop of one of Velaris’ most prestigious restaurants. 

While Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand are surely at some shithole bar, the three of us decided on a little class in celebration of tomorrow.

As the server fills our glasses and leaves the remainder of the bottle of wine in an ice-filled chiller, Feyre raises her glass in a salute. “I know toasts usually come at the end of the night, but we’ve never been the most conventional bunch. Nes, you and Cassian have been the pillar of strength for our group for so long. When shit gets hard, the two of you are the ones to step up and handle it. Your marriage is no different. Things may have gotten rough for a bit—” I roll my eyes at her understatement, but can’t pull the smile from my lips if I try. “But you didn’t let that break the two of you, you didn’t let that tear you apart like so many others would have. You never gave up on your love, on each other, and I’m so glad we get to celebrate that tomorrow.”

I clear my throat to push away the flood of emotion and we clink our glasses together. “Thank you. But the real toast should be for the two of you because if I had to plan this damn thing alone, I would have died.”

They laugh but it’s no joke.

I think it may have killed me.

Although tonight is supposed to be all fun and games, we go over our checklist one last time. We’ll have to get to the venue early tomorrow and finish decorating, but it shouldn’t be too bad.

“Is it weird that I’m nervous?” I ask, fiddling with the stem of my wine glass. “I mean, we’re already married, but this feels different.”

“I don’t think it's weird,” Elain says, cheeks already pink from the wine. “I think it’s nice. It just means that it means a lot to you.”

“I bet Cass is just as nervous,” Feyre says, chiming in. “And just wait until he sees you in your dress. I’ve never seen anything so sexy and elegant in my life.”

I grin. I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t been dreaming about Cassian's reaction when he sees the dress I bought. “Having to make it through the entire ceremony and reception is going to be torture for him, and I can’t wait.”

“Sadist,” Feyre mumbles, and Elain chokes on her last drop of wine.

She’s not wrong. The sheath of lace fits me like a second skin, the only ornamentation the occasional pattern of intricate beading and the sweetheart neckline dips just low enough to be alluring without being obscene. The lingerie I’ll be wearing beneath it is another story entirely.

Reaching for the bottle, I refill each of our glasses, setting it down at the edge of the table when it’s empty. “Listen, if he isn’t feral by the time we get home, something has gone horribly wrong.”

Home, because we aren’t going on a second honeymoon. We aren’t taking a trip or going anywhere, that’s not what this renewal was about. Sure, we’re having the ceremony and the party afterwards, but it’s to celebrate us.

Home, because there’s nowhere else we’d rather go and no one else we’d rather be with.

The food is earth shattering. By the time we’re done eating, I’m so full that I can hardly move. Cassian will be jealous that I ate so luxuriously without him, but it was too delicious for me to care. I feel a slight buzz from the wine, but nothing too daunting. I feel carefree and completely excited. 

With our empty plates in front of us, Elain asks, “Any news on the adoption front? You haven’t mentioned it in a couple of weeks.”

“We have a meeting with an agency set up for next week, actually,” I say, almost hesitantly, which earns two sets of worried glances in my direction. I shake my head. “I just kinda wanted to see how it went before mentioning it, I guess. I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.”

Mine included. I have learned through my struggles with infertility that nothing is to be expected.

Elain reaches over and squeezes my hand. “We only want to be there for you. We’re here with you both on this journey, Nesta.”

Knowing that was the point of telling our family about our past struggles, I nod. “I know, and we've been talking a lot about it for the last couple of weeks, Cass and I. I’m getting…excited.”

The agency we’ve been in touch with works mostly with young, unwed mothers in Velaris who aren’t ready for a child. They know that there are loving families, like us, who would do anything to find that missing piece and they help connect the mothers and families. There’s no guarantee we’d meet the mother, as some women opt for closed adoptions, but we don’t care either way.

We haven’t even been approved to work with the agency yet, so I try not to get ahead of myself.

“We’re meeting with them at their office and if that goes well, we’ll have a home visit a few days after that.”

“A home visit?” Feyre asks, eyebrows rising. “That seems a bit quick.”

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t be,” I reply, swirling the wine in my glass. “This is to see if we even get accepted into the program. I’m sure there are going to be plenty of things we run into in this process that are frustrating, but it’s all going to be worth it in the end.”

“I think it’s beautiful that you want to adopt,” Elain says, eyes misty once again from those mom-of-infant hormones. 

We leave soon after and take a walk around the city before I’m back in my car, driving home. I love spending time with my sisters and I’m thankful for all that they’ve done, but I can’t wait to get home, can’t wait to get in bed. The sooner I’m home, the sooner I’m asleep, the sooner tomorrow will be here. 

Once I’m home, the house is dark and quiet. Greg is sprawled out on the couch and hardly stirs as I pass him to head upstairs. I’m not sure what time Cassian will be home but hopefully it isn’t too late. If he’s drinking, which I have no doubt he is, he needs time to sleep it off before the morning.

We’re not twenty-one anymore.

I sneak a peek in my office where my dress is hanging on full display so that the wrinkles are all out. Cass has been banned from this room and he’s done very good at avoiding it like the plague. He won’t be seeing me in this beauty until tomorrow. 

After I shower, I throw on one of my favorite t-shirts, one of Cassian’s, and brush my teeth and hair before sinking into bed. I just open my newest read when the front door opens and closes. It’s not long after when I hear a bang, clatter, Greg’s pissed off noise, and Cassian’s string of filthiest curses.

Maybe I should’ve left a light on.

I hear noises from the kitchen, noises that sound suspiciously like pots and pans being pulled out. I wait, listening, my book open on my lap, waiting for him to come to bed. Then I hear the microwave open and close.

Sighing, I throw the blankets back and head downstairs, making sure he hears me as I descend into the living room.

I hear a cabinet slam followed by another barked curse. Entering the kitchen, I lean a hip against the table and cross my arms, taking in the carnage around me.

The perks of having a chef for a husband: he makes delicious food for every anniversary, birthday, party, you name it.

The cons of having a chef for a husband: he makes questionable food when he’s drunk.

There’s a pot on the stove, pasta boiling away, while a pan filled with an unknown brown sauce simmers nearby. His trusty colander is already in the sink, waiting to be used, while he’s on his hands and knees, digging through the cabinets, looking for something. The microwave beeps, letting us know its contents are ready to be removed. He doesn’t even hear it.

I cross my arms and wait, thinking he’ll realize I’m here eventually. After another minute, listening to the microwave beep as it reminds us it’s done, I ask, “What are you looking for?”

A loud thump carries through the kitchen as Cassian bangs his head on the underside of the shelf he was searching through. He scrambles backward, which is honestly comical, before getting to his feet and facing me.

He freezes as his eyes rove over my body, taking in the t-shirt and the fact that I’m wearing nothing underneath it. “Mother’s tits, you’re so fucking hot. I’m the luckiest bastard on the planet.”

I smirk, welcoming the praise, but just then the microwave beeps again and he gasps. “Cheese toast.”

Blinking, I wait, making sure I heard him right.

Sure enough, he pulls a plate out of the microwave, consisting of two pieces of sandwich bread with cheese melted over it.

“Hungry?” I ask, chuckling as he tears into the cheese toast.

“Carbs,” he replies around a mouth full of cheese and bread, pointing a flailing arm at the pasta boiling on the stove, as if that explains it all. “Need carbs so I’m not hungover tomorrow.”

“You know another way not to be hungover?” I tease, sauntering over to him. “Don't drink your weight in liquor.”

“Baby, if I drank my weight in liquor I’d be dead,” he says, shoving the rest of the toast that’s not really toast in his mouth. “Have you seen me? I’m gigantic.” 

“Mhmm.” I’m close enough to him now that I brush his hair out of his face. “Where did those idiots take you?”

“The bar.”

I laugh, quietly. “I can tell that much. Which one?”

“Rita’s,” he croons. “They told her I’m renewing my vows tomorrow, and she gave us a free round of shots…multiple…multiple free rounds of shots.”

“Explains the whiskey on your breath,” I chuckle. “Well, I’m glad you had fun. Eat your noodles and come to bed.”

“You’re not staying?” He frowns. “Stay. Eat.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s after midnight. I’m old. I’m tired.”

“You’re not old, you’re…sexy in my shirt.” He grabs the old, thinned fabric and pulls me back towards him, but before he can make his move, the water boils over on the stove.

The words that come out of this man…I married a sailor. 

Despite being three sheets to the wind, Cassian is able to clean up quickly and salvage his meal. He plates his pasta and pours his sauce over it, which is a mix of barbecue sauce, honey, and orange marmalade, and smells much better than it has a right to. Just as I’m about to head upstairs, I pause to drop a kiss to the top of his head, telling him to hurry up, but his arms snake around my waist, pulling me down into his lap.

“Stay with me,” he grumbles, pressing his lips to my neck. “Please?”

“Eight o’clock is going to come super early,” I grumble, leaning back into his embrace.

With his free arm, he twirls the pasta on a fork and takes a big bite. “Sure as fuck is.”

We stay like that until he finishes eating, clearing his plate. I stand to take it to the sink, but as soon as I’m on my feet, he’s sweeping me into his arms.

It’s romantic, but with how much he’s had to drink, likely ill-advised.

“You better not fall down the stairs while you’re carrying me,” I threaten as he heads up to our room.

For a moment, he wavers, but just as I gasp he starts to laugh and straightens himself.

“Just kidding.”

I smack him on the arm which only seems to bring him more joy as he reaches the second floor landing and pads down the hall and into our room. He doesn’t drop me on the bed but brings me into the bathroom with him instead. He sets me on the vanity before pulling his shirt over his head and taking off his belt, giving me one hell of a show.

He knows I’m watching and he loves it, both of us shameless. 

After brushing his teeth and washing up, he kicks off the remainder of his jeans and scoops me up, yet again.

“Your hair is still a mess,” I grumble, my lips pressing against his shoulder.

“Sexy mess or disgusting mess?” He asks, and now that the alcohol is beginning to wear off, I can tell he’s exhausted. 

“Somewhere in the middle,” I say, and he chuckles as he lays me down in bed and crawls up behind me, wrapping me in his arms.

His body is warm, safe, my own personal haven. I don’t even think he realizes it, don’t even think he knows the magnitude of what his arms around me brings. I melt into him and close my eyes, sighing contentedly.

“Remember the night before our wedding?” He whispers into the darkness.

Laughing softly, I nod. “Yes, but I’m surprised you do.”

If I thought Cassian was drunk now, it was nothing compared to the state he was in when showed up on my doorstep at three in the morning. More specifically, the doorstep of my father’s house, where I was staying with my sisters that night. Feyre and Elain were both still in high school and I was never the best at making friends, so rather than going out and getting drunk the night before I got married, I hung out at home with my sisters.

Cassian, on the other hand, hung out with his brothers in our brand new apartment off campus and got trashed, thanks to one of the older guys in his fraternity buying them whatever they wanted as a wedding gift.

Rhys and Az had passed out in the living room and Cass decided it would be a good idea to come see me. So he called a cab and then he was there, drunk and stumbling and making so much noise that I’m sure my father heard him sneaking in. We fell asleep, just like this, in each other’s arms, just like we did every night. We didn’t care about any old wives tales about staying apart the night before. We wanted to be together, so that's what we did.

My father was not thrilled the next morning when he woke up and found Cassian sitting at the breakfast table.

“Dad was pissed.” I can’t help but laugh. “I knew without a doubt at that moment that I was making the right decision, marrying you.”

He hums. “Were you doubting it before my drunken escapade?”

“No,” I say, and run my fingers across the arm that’s slung around my waist. “But that just proved my feelings right. Validation.” 

He kisses the back of my neck. “I didn’t think I could love you more than I did back then. Didn’t think it was possible. But I do. I love you more now than I did then, and I’ll love you more tomorrow than I do today.”

I swallow as my eyes line with tears. “Save it for your vows.”

He huffs a laugh. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. My vows are way more romantic than that.”

I can’t wait to hear them, can’t wait to stand with him hand in hand and celebrate our marriage after all that we have overcome. As I drift off into a deep sleep, I once again know, without a doubt, that Cassian is my one and only, the other half of my soul, my lifelong partner and my best friend. 

I don’t know what I did to be this damn lucky.

[xdaddysprincessxx]

The Cabin in the Woods lll

Dave York x f!reader

Dead dove/dark fic, dubcon, gun kink, oral (m & f receiving) piv (wrap ya wily, we don’t want babies) 1 slap, 1 spit in the face, breeding ish kink, reader is also manipulative in a way wink wink, I think that’s it let me know if I missed anything!

Summary: Back down in the basement, your forced to be alone with your thoughts. And your thoughts seem to be focused solely on the mystery man . . .

Warnings:

A/n: Part tres amigos! I am absolutely enjoying writing these two little devils! I’m not sure how many parts this is actually gonna have, in all honesty I’ve just been vibing and going off of that lol but I am planning another series soon so check out the little teaser I made

Ever since the man brought you back down to the basement, your time at the cabin hasn’t been terrible. He’s been consistent with bringing you food and water regularly. Every few hours or so he comes and brings you upstairs to use the bathroom almost treating you as if your a dog he has to let out. The makeshift pallet you’ve been sleeping on is rather cozy if you ignore how hard the unforgiving cement floor is. The two of you never exchange words, the man mostly just grunts at you with the occasional kick to your side if your asleep when he comes down.

After what feels like a century, you’ve finally had enough. You’ve gone stir crazy being stuck down here. No one to talk to and nothing to entertain you except your thoughts, you’re ready to go postal on the man. It doesn’t help that your last encounter keeps replaying in your mind on a damn loop. Your no longer scared as much as you are pissed and horny. Two things you know for certain: 1) you want out. Now. And 2) you want the man to fuck you hard again.

Your ears perk up when you hear the man’s footsteps come towards the basement door, causing you to sit up ready to beg him to hold you hostage upstairs. You have a plan you’ve been thinking of for awhile now and now it seems is time to put it in action.

As Dave descends to the bottom of the stairs he flicks the light on and can’t help but notice how your sitting there almost as if you’ve been waiting for him. Pretty doe eyes look up at him all innocent like. Looking very much like a pure little angel that he very much wants to defile over and over again. Walking over to where you sit, he bends over sitting a plate and cup down grunting at you as if to say ‘Here, eat”

“Thank you sir. I appreciate everything you do for me.” You say sweetly hoping to butter him up a little.

“Uh huh.” Dave replies, suspicious as to why your thanking him. I mean I have done a lot for her. Kept her alive when I should’ve gotten rid of her especially after she ran from me, he thinks.

“May I ask you a question sir?” You ask quickly, hoping to get the ball rolling on this plan of yours.

“What is it?” the man barks out.

“What’s your name? If I’m stuck here with you I’d like to know who I’m stuck with.” You say using your sweetest voice, really laying the sweet angel act on thick.

Raising his eyebrow, he looks you up and down with a quizzical look on his face. “Dave. My names Dave.” He responds, feeling fine with giving you his real name knowing you will never leave this cabin alive.

“Dave, I like that name. Well it’s nice to meet you Dave.” His name rolling off your tongue, you can’t help but think of screaming his name while he takes you from behind.

You start to sit up on your knees as you lean forward on your hands crawling towards Dave, “Dave I must say I am very grateful for everything you do for me. But there is something else.” You say seductively as you look up at him with a sensual expression. Bringing your hand up, walking your fingers up his leg, “Can I please come back upstairs? I’ll be good I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll give you whatever you want.” You tell Dave suggestively.

“Ah I see. So you think you can look at me all innocent like, ask me my name and practically moan it out loud when I tell you, only to beg me to let you out of the basement?” Dave says as he bends down to your level, face to face, “What happened to ‘thank you for everything sir.’ ? You should be grateful I’ve let you live you stupid little girl.” He practically spat in your face.

Spitting in his face, “Fuck you!” You yell. In a split second after you said that, Dave raises his hand and slaps you hard across your face, “ You fucking bitch!” Dave yells back as he wipes your spit off his face, only to then grab you by your chin and force you to look at him.

“You wanna act like a silly, little girl and beg, then fucking beg.” He says threw gritted teeth. Roughly he shoves your face to the side as he lets go of your chin. Feeling hurt and your ego a tad bruised, you cast your eyes down unsure if you should actually beg like he said or keep quiet. The wetness pooling in the boxers he lent you is undeniable. That slap turned you on.

Dave stands back up and grabs his gun out of his holster on the back of his pants.

Using the barrel of the gun, he places it on your cheek and tilts your head back up so your looking at him again. “Open your mouth.” He orders. Terrified, you do as he says and you open your mouth.

Dave slowly caresses your face with his gun before he traces your open mouth with the barrel. “Such a pretty fucking mouth. Too bad you like to use your teeth.” Dave says as he starts to put the barrel of his gun in your mouth.

Shocked, you just keep as still as possible. The man put a fucking gun in your mouth! Dave put his gun in your mouth!!! So why the hell do you feel the need to please him and put on a little show? Show him how good you can suck his gun and maybe you’ll earn some of his trust and he’ll give you a taste of his cock again. You tighten your lips around the barrel and begin sucking on his gun. The cold taste of metal floods your tastebuds only spurs you on more. Bobbing your head up and down the length of the barrel you dare to look up to see Dave watching you through half lidded eyes.

“Fuck look at you. What a filthy little girl. Sucking on my damn gun like it’s a cock. Is that what you want sweetheart? You want my cock again?” Dave says in a low, baritone voice.

Keeping the gun in your mouth, you shake your head yes as best you can while keeping eye contact with Dave.

Grunting, Dave slides the gun out of your mouth while he unbuckles his pants to reveal his thick cock, already an angry red and very hard, all for you.

Your eyes widen with lust ready to swallow every inch he gives you. Before you even move the tiniest centimeter towards him, he puts his gun up to the side of your head.

“Aht before you suck my cock just know my gun will stay right here. You try anything and I mean anything and I will shoot you.” Dave growls at you. As scared as you are, feeling his gun rest on your temple has you getting even wetter. Licking your lips, you move towards Dave reaching out to grab his thick member. This time your able to get an even better look at him. The prominent vein going down the entire length of him on the side as it curves underneath. The head is an angry red with drops of precum already leaking from the slit. You drop your jaw and welcome his smooth cock into your mouth. His musky scent filling your nostrils while your tongue flattens underneath his cock. Bobbing your head up and down, you quickly found a nice rhythm, twirling your tongue around his cock while going up and down his length. Looking up again with tears threatening to fall from your eyes as you push yourself to go all the way down to the base of his dick.

“Fuck that’s right baby swallow every fucking inch just like that.” Dave purrs as your lips and nose hit his dark patch of curls.

After enjoying the warm heat of your mouth deep throating his dick for a little bit longer, Dave pulls you off his cock by your hair. Saliva strings connect you to him as you take a deep gulp of breath in, your chest heaving up and down. Wordlessly Dave shoved you down causing you to fall back on your butt, he gets down on his knees, completely level with you now. He grips your knees pulling your legs apart as he runs his nose down your thigh towards your pussy. As he reaches your mound, he rubs his nose over your mound and takes a deep breath, reveling in your sweet scent.

Sitting up on your elbows, you look down at Dave’s head in between your thighs in disbelief. You didn’t take him for a man who ever went down on a woman much less enjoyed it. Unable to hold it back any longer, you let out a soft moan as Dave kissed your lips. He took no time in pulling down the boxers covering your sweet, sweet heaven. Once bare Dave dove back in and started exploring your pussy with his tongue. He licked up and down your slit a few times, stopping to swirl around your clit. After a few swirls his lips attached to your clit and started to suck.

Unable to believe the scene in front of you, you couldn’t help but reach down and pull on his thick locks as you moaned so sweetly. Bringing a deep guttural moan from Dave as he continued his assault on your pussy. In no time you were already close. Maybe it was part of the fact you were constantly turned on thinking about Dave and how he felt when he fucked you. Or the other night when he helped you cum as he came on you. But you were loving this. Throwing caution to the wind you started to buck up in his face as you held onto his hair keeping right where you want him.

Growling, Dave grips your thighs, keeping you spread open as his tongue enters your pussy, fucking you open on his tongue. He can feel you clench, suspecting you were close already, this confirmed it for him. Going back up to your clit he starts going back and forth on swirling around your clit and sucking it.

That does it for you. Feeling yourself fall over the edge, you began cumming hard onto Dave’s face. “Oh fuck oh fuck yes yes please don’t stop oh god yes!” You practically shouted.

Enjoying the fruits of his labor, Dave greedily sucks up every ounce of your sweet nectar that he can. All too soon his mouth leaves your pussy as he looks up at you like an animal about to attack it’s prey. Soon you feel his massive hands slide up to your hips and toss you over onto your stomach treating you like a rag doll. As if you couldn’t get any wetter, your pussy gushes even more at the rough treatment.

Before you even get a chance to get up on your knees you feel Dave’s body cover yours and without warning he fills you to the brim with his cock. Splitting you open, feeling the sweet burn of being stretched wide, he gives you no time to adjust before he’s pumping in and out of your sweet heaven. Your whole body feels as though it’s been set on fire and you love it.

Pinned down by Dave’s body all you can do is make a deep, guttural grunt as you lay there and take every punishing thrust of his hips. “Fuck that’s it baby. This sweet fucking pussy keeps sucking me in. Gonna milk me dry. You want my load in this fucking pussy little girl? Huh?”

Unable to even speak you nod your head as best you can because good god you want his cum deep inside you. You know you shouldn’t enjoy any bit of this but you do. Oh god you do. You love when he’s mean to you, when he calls you names and even more when he manhandles you however he wants and makes you take everything he gives you.

“Nng fuck yes fuck yes you do. You want my fucking load baby you’re gonna take it. Keep every fucking drop in this pussy.” Dave all but moans out as he saw you nod your head yes. Loving how depraved and filthy you are. In the back of his head he’s already decided he’s going to keep you. You’re his now whether you like it or not. All too soon he feels his balls tighten up and after a few more thrusts, Dave starts coming deep inside you.

Feeling his cock pulse inside you, you can’t help but moan at the feeling of being filled. A tiny voice in the very back of your head almost hoping his seed will take, wanting to keep a part of him with you forever. And you suspect if it does take, there’s no way he would harm you if you were pregnant with his child, right?

All too soon, you feel him pull out of you, leaving you feeling empty and used. Catching your breath you slowly begin to roll over as you watch Dave pull his pants up and put his gun back in the holster.

Once Dave’s decent again, he grabs the key out of his pocket and goes to unlock the cuffs around your ankles. Pulling you up by your arm, he leads you back upstairs.

After being brought back upstairs, Dave takes you to the bedroom and leaves to grab a wet washcloth to clean you up. Carefully he reaches down and swipes ever so gently leaving you feeling so confused as to why he’s suddenly being so careful with you.

“You can stay up here with me as long as you can behave. The first time you wanna act like a cunt you’re going back down do you understand me?” Dave informs you as he throws the washcloth in the hamper by the door. Shaking your head vigorously, “Yes sir of course. Thank you.” You answer quickly before he can change his mind.

Nodding toward the bed, Dave pulls the comforter down as if to say get in. You crawl into the bed and lay down as he pulls the covers over you. Turning off the light, Dave walks around the bed to the other side and crawls in next to you. Soon enough you find yourself drifting off to sleep, feeling rather content laying next to your captor.

A/n: All comments/reblogs/likes are greatly appreciated and I love seeing everyone enjoy this story!! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for loving my first born😇

[clefaiiiry]

From the Airwaves to your Viscera

i wasn't kidding about finding a way to get lux into every fic ya know

not sure if this should be mature or explicit but hwei does have cannibalistic fantasies so ya know

now i can stop tormenting you all with incessant fic posting! for now :)

Read on AO3

Read on Tumblr - Under Read More

-~*~-

There’s a crick in Hwei’s neck, as there often is.

Before him, his canvas stares back, blank as it had been hours ago. His inspiration is a rusty old tap; when it flowed it was a raging tide, the only problem was unscrewing the damn thing.

Hwei spins his chair away from his easel and lets out a long, gravelly whine as he rubs his face. How long has it been dark for? He hadn’t really noticed. Hwei forces himself to his feet to switch on a lamp and stretches his fingers upward to the ceiling.

When he turns, his canvas is still empty. Even when he tries really hard to force paint to magically appear, it stays empty.

He’s exhausted, but sleep won’t come so he might as well paint. But if he can’t even paint, then what is he good for-

He needs a drink. He doesn’t have any alcohol so he’ll settle for something warm. Maybe it would do him some good to pour the boiling water straight onto his wretched hands-

His kitchen nook beckons and his heavy feet drag across the splotchy floor. It certainly needs a good scrub, but he’d have to shove everything off to the side for that.

While the kettle, he paces around his apartment, and makes a vague effort to fold away some clothes, but only makes it through two shirts before he decides the laundry chair is good enough. He fumbles to make his bed, a mattress on the floor with a duvet and a pillow without a case, but that plan too rapidly falls apart as he instead flops onto it facedown with a huff.

Hwei catches his gaze in his mirror, just a little desk one he uses when he can be bothered to do his makeup, and finds he doesn’t recognise himself. His skin prickles in apprehension of his unfinished piece. He has all the tools he could possibly need, all the technical know-how, so why do his hands not work? Why can his mind conjure nothing of merit? 

Soon enough his sulking is interrupted by the whistling kettle and he pours himself some tea, sipping much too early and burning his tongue. Rain is pattering against the window when he returns to his chair, mug left too close to the edge of the desk to be safe.

Hwei switches on the radio. He’d gotten it from Lux, an old thing probably due for the bin rather than his windowsill. It sounds about ready to blow every time he turns it on and cooperates only when it feels like it, but he likes it all the same. Hwei had only upgraded to a smartphone once his old brick had finally packed in and he couldn’t find a new battery for it.

Static crackles as he switches through frequencies, until finally a voice comes through,

“-much appreciated. We’re just now approaching- two-thirty in the morning, and those of us with sense may seek to retire for the evening.” Static rumbles with the man’s chuckle. “But sense is vastly overvalued in my humble opinion.”

The voice is deep, almost melodic, its warmth burrowing its way deep into Hwei’s bones. This would do. He leans back, pulls his feet up onto his chair, and braces his mug in both hands.

The host continues, “I do hope you are all satisfied with the playlist this evening, but if you aren’t then I’m afraid your other options are lacking. I don’t believe anyone else in the area runs this late anymore, so you’re stuck with me, poor thing.”

Hwei hums, lips twitching in a little smile as he goes for another attempt at his tea. It’s still not quite cool enough, but he doesn’t scald his lips this time. He leans forward to listen,

“Now, I’d like to let these next three play in their entirety. Now, if you’re a returning listener you’ll know I prefer instrumental pieces, but I can be persuaded to tolerate vocals.”

The host’s chuckle draws one from Hwei, like sharing the room with him.

The host goes into particulars regarding the upcoming songs before he lets them play. First is a gradual build of a quiet piano and strings that eventually crescendos in a resounding tidal wave, the next carries the intensity with strings and light synth, before the final song returns to a gentle lull with soft male vocals.

Together the songs feel like a journey, an adventure to the highest peak of a forgotten mountain. Like he’d trudged through sleet and snow to reach the very top, then slowly worked his way back down to earth.

A climb to the divine… and a fall back to mortality.

Hwei drops his mug on the desk with a loud thunk. If it had spilt, he didn’t notice, there were more important matters to focus upon. His hands move of their own accord, colours vibrant on the canvas. Jagged cliffs pierce the sky, a tattered hand breaking through to claw at the horizon, a single beam of heavenly guidance reaching back-

At least, that’s what they could be, what he intends for them to be. Art is rarely so straightforward.

He steps back and takes it in, tilts his head, is amazed to find he doesn’t hate it after staring at it for more than ten seconds. It’s still rough, needs a touch up on the uglier lines, but it’s progress, more than he’s had in weeks. 

Something rumbles at his ears and he realises the radio has died into static. The show must be over. Hwei stares at it for a moment longer before he takes note of the frequency on a little scrap of paper, then finally switches it off.

-~*~-

The moment he sees it again, Hwei hates his canvas.

In the light of morning he picks apart every stroke and smudge of paint he’d subjected upon that poor thing and finds a potent nausea bubbling in his stomach. The image is too bleak, too morbid, torn flesh shattering upon sharp blades of stone.

He considers shattering his fingers, placing them in the window and slamming it down until they’re broken and just as useless as they feel.

Suppressing the thought, he removes it from the easel and leans it against the wall, facing away. If he had to look at it any longer he was going to vomit. No, that was a bit dramatic, but he would certainly fantasise about tossing it out of the window. But what if it hit someone on the way down? He’d never forgive himself.

Once again, Hwei entertains the idea of cleaning his apartment and makes it as far as taking out the rubbish before he realises how late it is. He fumbles to scrounge up a full outfit from his floor, grabs his bag, and almost forgets to lock the door on the way out.

Not like there would be anything worth stealing.

-~*~-

The Crownguards come from the sort of old money Hwei could only ever dream of. While Hwei had got Lux a new plant pot for her succulent, her older brother had casually bought her, among other things, a new car. The way she said the make made it sound important, but he didn’t really know enough about that sort of thing to judge.

“You know,” Lux says as she turns the little pot over in her hands, “I prefer this.” It’s a little ceramic cream one shaped like a sheep with big shiny eyes and pink cheeks.

“You don’t have to say that,” Hwei says. She pouts.

“I’m serious! Larry looks so sad in his current pot, he needs a spruce up! This is perfect!”

She places it in the centre of the table and stares intently, as if another plant might sprout up if she wills for it hard enough. She’s deep in thought when she suddenly jerks and clasps her hands together.

“Oh! I got you something too!”

“Now hold on,” Hwei says, “it’s your birthday. You’ve got this backwards.”

Lux rolls her eyes. “Well, my birthday present to me is getting a treat for my friend! Ta-dah!”

The wrapping paper is almost too nice to tear, done up with a little ribbon and bow. Hwei mourns it before he begins to carefully peel from the taped edges. She’s bouncing in her seat by the time he finally folds it back.

Within the paper is a little wooden box, reminiscent of the sort one would expect to find a ballerina dancing inside. A golden crest adorns the lid, one that makes his stomach drop.

“Lux, I can’t accept this, it’s too much-”

“Don’t be silly! I insist!”

People are starting to stare so he accepts defeat and cradles the box in his arms like a wounded animal. He feels like crying.

“I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it! Hopefully this helps with the ol’ art block!”

A cold, heavy rock lodges itself into his throat. She’s staring at him with that huge, toothy grin and bright eyes, like she sees something he doesn’t.

Like she doesn’t see what he sees when he looks in the mirror.

A part of him wants to throw them back at her, as if it could ever be that simple! A darker part is tempted to throw it into the street just to make a point. But he doesn’t, because he knows she doesn’t mean it like that, that she’s just trying to be supportive and helpful.

The cold spreads downward into his lungs and he stares into his cup. Besides, why couldn’t it be that simple? He has sparks of inspiration all the time, why can’t he just create without second guessing himself? Without creating something hideous?

“Oh,” Lux says, breaking him from his stupor, “so I met up with Quinn the other day and-”

He’s grateful for the change of subject, especially since he isn’t expected to say much beyond the odd, ‘oh really?’ or ‘that’s nuts.’ She does try to prompt more of a contribution at first, but quickly realises it’s one of those days so lets him listen in peace.

Then she starts to fidget, her gaze lingering through the window. Lux purses her lips and taps an arrhythmic pattern into her cup with her nails. She’s had them done recently. They look nice, better than Hwei’s. His are still chewed and chipped, due a fresh coat of polish.

“What’s wrong?” Hwei asks and she nearly jumps out of her seat.

“Well, I- So urh, my aunt is running an art show between Christmas and New Year?”

“Oh. That’s cool.”

“Yeah!”

The silence that lingers between them drags on for much longer than he’d prefer. Lux finally sighs and sits up straight. She’s taller than him, but only because of how appalling his posture is, puffing up her chest to earn that extra inch or two.

“I think you should enter.”

Yep, about what he expected. Hwei shrugs. “I’m not sure…” he lies. He knows damn well what is stance is regarding such things-

“I like your stuff! And I’m sure other people would too, if you gave it a chance. It’s really great!”

He knows his work holds objective quality, on a technical level at least, but that stands for naught when it’s about as shallow as a child’s paddling pool. Not like he can help it; he can’t best the part of him which dreads what he’ll find if he digs any deeper.

Hwei finds his feet are suddenly deeply fascinating as he struggles to meet her intense stare. She deflates.

“Look, I don’t want to pressure you or whatever, I just- I really want more people to see your work. To really see the stuff you can do!”

“I-” He’s about to argue when he sees her face again and curse his humanity. Hwei rubs the bridge of his nose. “Let me see if I can finish something, and I’ll think about it.”

“You’re the best!”

Lux’s grin should be comforting, but it only twists the cold knife in his stomach even deeper.

-~*~-

When the radio crackles to life the following evening, Hwei can finally put a name to the voice.

Khada Jhin.

The music is pleasant enough to fill the silence and Hwei very rarely finds himself disapproving of the song selection. There are duds, of course, albums Jhin will sing the praises of while Hwei frowns through the set, but they just make him appreciate the good ones all the more. If anything, the alternative perspective is refreshing.

Jhin isn’t live every night, only Monday through to Thursday from one o’clock till five, but Hwei diligently listens to most of his shows. He doesn’t even do it consciously after a while, simply finds himself huddled by his desk with the soothing static. His sleep schedule is royally, completely screwed, but it’s not like he’d sleep even if he weren’t listening, and the routine is… nice.

Who was he kidding, the reason he kept tuning in was to listen to Jhin’s voice. That warm, comforting cadence has thoroughly imprinted itself into his soul and he’s shamefully addicted to the sound of it.

Hwei wonders if this is how a cosmonaut feels while they’re up in space, observing life below from afar. Out of reach but so very real. He also ponders on how long he’ll stay adrift before he runs out of air.

Jhin doesn’t talk that much, probably a thirty-seventy split on talking and music if Hwei had to put a number on it, but he listens to every word. Jhin speaks like an old friend one hadn’t seen for years, regaling tales of his life with all the theatrics of a playwright, and Hwei wants- needs to discover every piece of who this man is. And he does, piece by piece.

Jhin used to work as a composer, Jhin has a cat named Yuumi who he loves to death, Jhin is at least forty years old, Jhin prefers red wine over white, Jhin’s favourite flowers are lotus blossoms-

Hwei too could appreciate the beauty of lotus blossoms. He wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about flowers as a rule, but the lotus typically represented purity or rebirth, sometimes divinity depending on who you asked.

His mind wanders, stuck on the thought of how hard it would be to weed flowers blooming from one’s own skin. He feels itchy afterward, unclean.

It’s been a month since he discovered Jhin’s show. Tonight he’s playing some tracks by an artist Hwei had never heard of, but had recently gone mainstream after joining a boy group called Heartsteel. He had heard of them, but only because Lux was totally obsessed with their debut single.

“I did meet him before he lost his voice, back before he was forced into purely instrumental work,” Jhin says, almost melancholic, “a shame, really, his vocal talent was quite special. At least he’s finding success in other places.”

Hwei spares a glance to his canvas, staring back as blank as it had been hours ago. He bundles his blanket closer around his shoulders.

“Now,” Jhin’s voice guides him back like a candle in a storm, “as we are into our final hour, and because station management are getting quite particular about engagement- Urgh, we shall be opening requests again this evening. However, if any of you ask for some top forty schlock again, those privileges shall be revoked, management be damned.”

As he reads out the number, Hwei glances to where his phone is perched on the edge of his desk. He had considered ringing in at least a dozen times. What would he even ask for? He wasn’t particular, the type to say, ‘oh, I’ll listen to anything.’ It was a small roadblock, really, for an opportunity to talk to the man whose voice had kept him company for so many nights.

Hwei covers his face with a groan, his heels thumping onto the floor as he kicks his legs out.

Just pick something! Anything!

But what if he picked something Jhin didn’t like? 

Then I’ll just have to run off and start a new life in the forest-

Alright, now he really is being dramatic.

Hwei looks at his phone again, reaches out and strains his fingers across the desk until he can fumble it into his hand. He knows the number, even without Jhin repeating it. It’s so easy! Just dial it in and-

Hwei slams it back on the desk, face down, and hugs his knees up against his chest.

Another listener requests a song named The Turning of Our Bones. It’s a slow build of guitar with a gravelly vocalist, visceral in a way that tempts brush strokes from his idle hands.

A chest being torn open, ribs cracked and blood spilled. Hands carve their way into the cavity and clutch the heart within. The blood is purple, the heart is gold-

It’s only when the song ends that Hwei is struck by how morbid his creation is. Morbid, but oddly… beautiful.

He places it against the wall with the others.

-~*~-

Another few weeks pass before Hwei dials the number again. The dim screen illuminates his even darker room, thumb hovering over the call button, then he locks it and rubs his face. Jhin’s already had a few callers this evening who wanted to chat as well, so he’s probably sick of it anyway, Hwei reasons.

He spins on his chair and entertains the idea of adding to this piece, but he’s already sick of this one. It’s placed against the wall like the rest. He replaces it with a blank canvas.

The neighbours across the street have their Christmas decorations up already, the tacky LEDs making him squint every time he turns to the window. They’re not so bad, they’re a suitable excuse not to switch his own lights on.

He’s struck by how morbid it would be for someone to choke on them, be hung by them-

“I hate Christmas,” Jhin says with a sigh, “I know, I know, ‘how could I possibly?’ Yes, call me Ebenezer Scrooge. If you ask me, everything is far too loud and bright this time of year. Or perhaps I’m showing my age.” He laughs and Hwei feels the tension bleed from his shoulders.

But then he finds himself wondering, does Jhin have anyone to spend Christmas with? He’s never mentioned a partner or any family, other than Yuumi. Maybe his distaste is more personal than he lets on.

Or maybe Hwei is just projecting.

Lux would probably be going home for the holidays and, even though she’s always extended the offer for him to come with, he can’t think of anything more uncomfortable than surrounding himself with someone else’s family. He barely even knew how to act around his own.

He looks at his easel again, still blank, then to his phone, still on the desk.

Jhin continues, “it’s partially why we haven’t queued up any seasonal songs. I get sick of all of them after the first week of November. Perhaps that’s why I find myself in a rut at the moment.” Jhin gives a wistful sigh. “Nothing I put to paper passes my standards these days. My fellow creatives can relate, I’m sure.”

Did Jhin spend hours staring at his sheet music too? Wondering how to create something beautiful, something meaningful? He always seems so natural, the admission is a chip in the mask. It strikes Hwei as impossibly human.

A reminder Jhin is not the sun keeping him warm in the vastness of space but a fellow cosmonaut left adrift.

Hwei sits up and, before he can reconsider, he takes his phone and dials the number. His fingers tremble around the device as it rings, pressing it harder to his ear.

Then there’s a click.

“Hello?” he says.

“Good evening. May I take your name?”

“I- Hwei.”

“And how are you this evening, Hwei?”

His composure is rapidly depleting. “Oh, I’m…” Hwei gives a breathy little laugh, “surviving.”

Jhin chuckles and suddenly Hwei’s throat feels very dry. “A sentiment I’m sure many of us share. Now, what can I play for you, my dear?”

“I- I’d actually like to ask for your opinion on something, if I may?”

The beat of silence lasts a little too long before Jhin says, “Is that so?”

“Yes. I- I just… How do you decide if a piece is… good enough?”

His voice is so irritating, perhaps he should do everyone and favour and cut his tongue out-

Jhin hums, a low sound that seeps through his skin. “That is truly an impossible question to answer,” he says, but he doesn’t sound disappointed or, god forbid, bored. He maintains the casual tone as he continues, “what I might find valuable in a piece will certainly be different than what you do. Now, tell me, Hwei, what do you truly love about the art that speaks to you?”

“When… When I can feel how the artist has poured their soul into their work. So I suppose… empathy.” His chair creaks as he spins on it to look at his canvas. “How else can we find meaning, without empathy?”

Jhin is quiet for a moment, just long enough that Hwei nearly slams the phone down, but then he hums. “What an interesting perspective. How fascinating. Though if we limit ourselves purely to the artist’s intent, doesn’t that also limit the piece itself? A parent may have good intentions for their child, but they may also be that which suffocates them, no?”

“Y-Yes, that’s true. I’ve lost count of how many times a piece hasn’t turned out the way I planned.”

“That I can certainly relate to.”

Jhin laughs and Hwei does too. He feels a little dizzy.

“Now, as much as I would love to continue, we’ve not much time left.” Before the shame can take hold, Jhin continues, “What can I play for you this evening, Hwei?”

Hwei blinks, stares ahead blankly. The lights across the street glow green. “I… didn’t think about that part, I’m sorry to waste your time.”

Jhin tuts through his teeth. “Now, now, time enjoyed is never wasted.”

And oh, how his heart flutters. Words die in his throat before he can embarrass himself and he’s grateful that Jhin continues without pause,

“What if I pick something for you, Hwei?”

“I would like that.”

“I hope I don’t disappoint. Take care now, my dear.”

“Y-Yeah. Thank you.”

In the moments following, the dial tone is deafening. It takes him far too long to put his phone down. My dear, it feels much too tender. Jhin uses pet names for listeners all the time but for Hwei, it just felt-

Through art, connection-

As the song starts, Hwei slowly stands and turns to his easel. He opens the box of paints from Lux and takes a long, deep breath. His brush dances with the music, a quiet build of strings and flutes. In Cold Light is the title of the song, and the way the notes flow leaves him adrift in the cosmos.

Just him and his canvas, Jhin’s voice resonating in his skull.

The colours flood together, blue and gold and flecks of purple. Each brush stroke feels intimate, purposeful. He’s missed this, to simply be as he creates.

Soft petals bloom from his brush, a blanket of stars, two little figures adrift in the abyss between, reaching out to each other, outward to a blooming lotus above. Reaching for divinity, as one-

Or perhaps a new beginning? Rebirth, a cycle beginning anew-

Hwei paints through the rest of Jhin’s show, even as the music changes and the night grows older. Only when Jhin signs off and the station goes quiet is the brush finally set down.

He takes a step back and wipes his sleeve across his forehead, damp paint smudging across his skin. The canvas that stares back doesn’t disgust him, doesn’t horrify or torment.

It warms, it comforts, it inspires-

And in the quiet of his apartment, slowly growing orange in the sunrise, he wonders if Jhin would like it too.

-~*~-

“It’s beautiful.”

Hwei shuffles awkwardly as Lux marvels at his work. 

Whether or not his piece was beautiful wasn’t the point, is what he wants to say. He knows the objective quality is sufficient but what does it say? What does it mean to her eyes that it couldn’t mean to anyone else?

“You… like it?”

“I love it! It’s like a narrative, right?” She points but keeps her hands a respectable distance from the canvas. “These little blobs are being rejected by the flower and falling out into the black. Well, okay, that’s what I think is happening, but I could be totally wrong.”

Hwei only shrugs. The surface level analysis isn’t necessarily incorrect it’s just-

He needs something else.

“Seriously, though, it’s really amazing!”

“Thank you. Do… you think your aunt would find it satisfactory?”

She whirls on him, eyes huge and grin even brighter. “You’re submitting?!”

“Do you think it’s good enough?”

Lux opens her arms, an invitation one he takes. He likes her hugs, they’re always warm and slightly too tight. Hwei squeezes back just as hard.

Wonders how hard he’d have to squeeze to crack her bones. The thought is an ice cold blade straight into his skull and he swallows the tide of nausea that follows.

“Alright, mister,” Lux says as she finally pulls away, “Just because you’re casually making masterpieces doesn’t mean I’m going to forgive this!” She gestures wildly around the room and he blinks. 

“What?”

“Your place is a mess! C’mon, we’re gonna clean up, right now! I don’t care if you had plans-”

-~*~-

Would stepping out into traffic be more tolerable than the knowledge that people would see, and by this point had already seen, his art? Probably, but Hwei hadn’t seen a big enough truck on his way over so that plan was a bust.

Lux is waiting for him when he finally arrives at the gallery, grinning ear to ear, and Hwei is made painfully aware of how underdressed he is.

It’s his own fault, really, Lux had said it would be formal dress, but he didn’t own anything that could even be considered close to formal. Got rid of most of it when he left home. Formal for Hwei usually meant brushing his hair and tossing on a jacket. He tugs at his collar and tries very hard to stand up straight, ignoring how his spine cracks and pops with the effort.

“How are you feeling?” Lux asks as she holds the door for him.

Terrified, queasy, disgusting-

“Tired,” he settles on, nodding his thanks as he scurries through.

Lux snorts. “You’re always tired.”

Well, she’s not wrong.

The walls are pure white, floors a perfectly polished hardwood, and both so spotless that Hwei keeps looking behind him to ensure he hasn’t left any blemishes behind. When he isn’t obsessively inspecting his own trail, he finds it hard to pick just one piece to admire.

How can he possibly when each of them is such a pure representation of the creator’s soul?

He’s happy to have Lux there, if anything for the different perspective. She lingers for longer at pieces he only gives a minute of time, enamoured. They only voice their opinions occasionally for a particularly striking work, but it’s nice to have her by his side as they stroll through the exhibits.

Occasionally, there’s the sudden urge to plunge a blade through the canvases, to topple over the sculptures, but he stifles them, covering his mouth and swallowing the bile that threatens his throat.

They’ve made it about halfway through the exhibition when an elbow suddenly jabs into his side and Lux waves a hand. “Hwei, look, look, look!” She whispers, dragging him across the hall to-

Ah, that’s his.

It’s different under the artificial light of the gallery. Hwei isn’t fond of how it reflects on his shades of purple, but it does bring out the gold- it’s not bad, just different. It feels a little surreal, seeing his work somewhere other than his own apartment. There’s a layer of disconnect that feels… weird in a way he can’t place. Lux doesn’t say anything, simply lets him be in the moment, but it’s impossible to miss her blinding smile just in his periphery.

Shoes click against the hard floor behind them and they both turn to the approaching man. He’s quite a bit taller than Lux, and even she isn’t short by any means, with shoulders so wide that Hwei wonders how he hasn’t knocked over any sculptures yet.

Okay, that was a little mean-

The man rights his posture once he reaches them. “Lux.”

“Garen!”

“Inside voice, please!” The man, Garen, jabs a finger toward her and looks around frantically. “And no running! If Uncle Eldred catches you, he will have a fit-”

“Oh, pish-posh,” Lux says with a wave of her hand, “Uncle Eldred will have a fit if the centrepiece is half an inch to the left.”

Garen stiffens and clears his throat. He finally pays Hwei a glance. “Ah, are you- you must be Mr Lukai. Lux- Luxanna has told me a lot about you.”

The emphasis on his title strikes him as a little odd, but he tries his best to ignore it. “Hwei is fine, thank you. Garen is it?”

“Urh, yes. I’m Luxanna’s brother.”

He takes Garen’s offered hand and tries not to think about how clammy the larger palm feels around his. Hwei is sure his smile looks as awkward as it feels. 

The silence that follows is so unbearable that Hwei is sure plucking each of his fingernails one by one would be less painful.

“Garen,” Lux says, mercifully breaking it, “this is actually Hwei’s piece! What do you think?”

Garen’s mouth opens and closes a few times, reminiscent of a fish in a filthy aquarium. Finally, he says, “It’s certainly- abstract.”

“It's actually impressionist,” Lux says, beaming a grin to Hwei, “right?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I guess so.”

“Ah. It’s… well,” Garen fumbles, rubbing at his chin, “it’s very… urh…”

His jaw clenches as Lux’s grip on his arm tightens like a tourniquet. “It’s very…?” she prompts, her smile bordering on manic.

Even though he’s standing there in his family’s gallery wearing a suit that probably cost more than Hwei’s monthly rent, he can’t help but feel a little bad. All this stuff is very clearly not Garen’s forte, eyes darting about as he finally forces out a,

“It’s um, colourful?”

Lux blinks once, twice, then she turns to Hwei. “Could you excuse us?” she says with one last smile before she drags her brother away.

Once they’re just out of earshot, she bombards him with a tirade, every word shrinking him back further as he attempts to form apologies.

Hwei watches for a moment longer before he sighs and steps back-

And crashes straight into the man behind him.

“Oh, I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s my fault, I thought you’d heard me.”

Hwei scrambles to stand back, ensuring the man is unscathed. He brushes himself off as his eyes crease with a smile. The man has a medical mask over the lower half of his face, not an uncommon sight with flu season at its peak. His right arm is kept under his jacket, his left holding a metal cane. Part of him wonders how long he’d be able to walk without it and Hwei scolds himself again.

“Are you alright?”

“Quite fine, I assure you.”

His voice sinks into his bones like falling into a hot bath at the end of a long day. A voice that’s been so intimately familiar over the past two months of his life.

Hwei realises he’s staring and swallows another apology. “Have we, um, met?”

The man tilts his head. “I don’t believe so. I feel as though I’d remember your face if we had.”

“No, I mean- are you Jhin?”

Recognition flashes behind those eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Hwei.”

“A pleasure. I see you’ve escaped your rut,” the man- Jhin says, gesturing with his cane, “And my, I’m glad that you did.”

“Do you like it?” Hwei cringes. Could he be any more needy?

Jhin takes a few steps past Hwei, never taking his eyes away from the canvas. He does put a little weight onto the cane as he walks, so it seems to not just be an aesthetic choice. He taps it on the ground, four times in all, the sounds reverberating through the hall. “Like is a little simplistic, but I suppose so, yes.”

From the corner of his eye, he spots a blonde head and a frantically waving arm. Hwei glances over and Lux is grinning back, gesturing toward him and shooting him a pair of thumbs up. All he can manage in return is an awkward little wave.

“Though I don’t love it,” Jhin says plainly, “There’s potential here, but something is missing.”

Hwei bristles. “And what would that be?”

“Even I’m unsure,” Jhin says, still not paying him a glance, “Tell me, how did you feel when you made this?”

Hwei shrugs, because he isn’t sure what else to do. He twists his hands into the fabric of his jacket and tilts his head so more of his hair covers his face. “Oh, you know.”

“No. I don’t.” The cane taps against the floor again, once, twice, three times, four times. “Explain your thought process.”

His head is throbbing, pounding. Pressure builds behind his eyes as Hwei wracks his brain for an acceptable answer. Is there anything he could say that wouldn’t be utterly pathetic? I projected my own insecurity onto a person I’ve never met. I thought of the two of us ascending to divinity, reborn in a form that could comprehend us as we are. 

“I felt… Inadequate,” Hwei says, an admission that leaves something dark coiling in his gut, “I’d been trying to create something, anything that wouldn’t disgust me for months. I- I figured if anyone would understand, it would be you.”

He can’t bring himself to look at Jhin, so he just stares at the two little figures. There’s no discernable features, he only sees them as humans since that was his intent when he painted them, just two blobs on a sea of black.

“I see. How fascinating.”

The voice jolts him from his thoughts and when he looks up, Jhin is gazing back.

“I do wish to learn more of how that mind of yours works, Hwei, if you don’t mind.”

Hwei smiles. “I don’t.”

Perhaps he is dreaming, or perhaps only adrift. 

-~*~-

Having a second contact in his phone makes the whole thing feel very official. They aren’t friends, it doesn’t feel right to call their relationship that given they’ve technically just met, but they’re connected. Somehow that feels… intimate.

Hwei still listens to his show, but the dynamic is different. There’s the knowledge that there’s a part of Jhin that’s his, that none of his other listeners will ever see. A selfish part of him that his parents and teachers wish they’d stripped from him, the part of him that wants and yearns.

For companionship, for understanding, for warmth, for viscera-

So Hwei, selfishly, texts Jhin quite a bit, though he vastly prefers when they get to call. Jhin tells him more about his compositions, his ever fitful muse, what sort of tomfoolery Yuumi has gotten up to. Hwei in turn offers what he thinks could be interesting; the progress of his own work, his schooling, any sort of gossip from Lux he thinks Jhin might find amusing.

It is not lost on him that neither of them broach the topic of family.

On New Year’s Eve, Jhin has no show planned for later so Hwei takes the initiative to call him first.

“How is my little starling this evening?” Jhin says through the receiver.

It’s probably a blessing that they haven’t met in person again, since it gives Hwei some time to desensitise to all the pet names he’s been showered in. “How did you know I’d be at home?”

“Hwei, don’t make me laugh. You don’t go out.”

He’s right, and it should probably be concerning how well Jhin knows him already. Hwei sighs. “What about you? Don’t you have any plans?”

“My plans are to be in bed by eleven.”

Hwei laughs. “Those ambitions are certainly admirable.”

There’s a little shuffle as Jhin presumably settles onto his sofa. Or maybe it’s an armchair? Hwei can just picture Jhin having a cosy little nook by a grand fireplace. 

“What about tomorrow?” he asks. Hwei frowns.

“What about tomorrow?”

“Have you any plans?”

Hwei pretends to think, so as not to seem too desperate. “No, nothing really.”

“Then perhaps you’d like to join me for a walk. Nothing too strenuous, I assure you.”

“You- Yeah. That… That sounds nice.”

“Do try to sound a little more enthused.”

“I’d like to!” Hwei quickly clarifies, “I just wasn’t really expecting it.”

Jhin chuckles. “I have to get you out of your cave somehow, darling.”

Hwei rolls his eyes at the teasing, suppressing the heat in his cheeks at that blasted endearment. “I would love to go for a walk with you.”

“Excellent. I’ll send you the time and place. See you tomorrow, my dear.”

After they hang up, Hwei smothers his face into his pillow and kicks his feet like he’s twelve again. It’s not a date, he reminds himself, just a walk with his not quite friend.

Just a walk-

-~*~-

Hwei’s only been waiting in the park for a minute before uncertainty rears its ugly head. Is he overdressed? Underdressed? It’s just a walk, after all, it’s not anything more serious. Just a walk!

A stroll, a saunter, a-

Hwei has to find the nearest bench to sit down before the blood rushing to his head makes him keel over.

He takes a long steady breath. It’s fine. Is his hair okay? He’d brushed it and pinned it back this morning but does it look like he’s trying too hard? Maybe he should take the pin out- No, then it would look too messy, like he hadn’t even bothered. What about his face? He’d put too much makeup on trying to hide his dark eyes and sallow skin. He probably looks like a clown. What if-

“You look rather out of sorts, poor thing.”

Hwei jumps to his feet with far too much haste and sways for a moment. Jhin reaches out but Hwei, foolishly, waves him off, staggering until he can steady himself on the back of the bench.

“I’m okay! I just- I’m a little under the weather.”

Jhin frowns. “If you felt poorly, we could have rescheduled.”

“No!” He blurts out, then just as quickly reigns himself back, “I’ll be fine, really! The fresh air will do me some good.”

A sceptical brow is raised. “If you insist, but do let me know if you need to rest.”

Jhin isn’t dressed overly formal by any means, but he’s effortlessly stylish in a way Hwei can’t help but envy. He also isn’t wearing a face mask today, Hwei realises, and tries not to focus too much on that. Though given how perfect it is, that’s definitely a tall order. 

But it isn’t perfect, not really. Jhin has laugh lines, he has a few odd grey hairs, crows feet. Yet another chip in the armour, yet another weight dragging him back to earth with the rest of humanity.

It would all rot the same as Hwei.

They set off not long after. The park is quiet, they only encounter a few odd people walking their dogs or joggers. Otherwise, they’d be undisturbed if not for the cool breeze and chirping birds.

They talk about all manner of things, art and music and literature. Their conversation flows as naturally as ever, from one subject to the next like a steady forest stream. The pretence of shyness is quickly abandoned, Hwei no longer reigning himself back to normalcy as they chatter away.

On occasion, though, he catches Jhin whispering to himself, counting his steps. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. Hwei makes a point to only broach conversation in the breaks between, otherwise he’s met by a momentary look of confusion. Jhin is quick to push it away, but it bothers him all the same, as does how Jhin is leaning heavier on his cane than he had last time. He needs to stop every so often, though does so under the guise of gesturing to something or to check on Hwei’s ‘illness,’ but Hwei can see how his expression shifts, how he clenches his jaw.

“Can we sit for a while?” Hwei asks as they approach another bench, “I’m a little tired,” he lies.

His suspicions are confirmed when Jhin accepts without even a playful jab.

As they rest, Jhin tilts his head back just so and furrows his brows, breaths coming in quiet little pants. When he catches Hwei staring, he sits up properly and smiles, all semblance of vulnerability discarded like a costume.

“Ah, I wasn’t expecting it to be quite so cold,” he says casually. Hwei doesn’t believe him, but nods anyway.

“Not to worry. We could get a coffee or something instead if you prefer?”

“No, this is nice.” Jhin shifts his weight a little, taps with his cane, one, two, three, four. Hwei wants to ask about that, but decides now is not the time.

He’s not sure when there will be a good time.

“Does that help you focus?”

Jhin blinks, takes a moment to compose himself, then clears his throat and holds the handle in both hands. “In a sense, yes.”

“That’s good. That- you have a way of calming yourself, I mean.”

Jhin is still staring at him, jaw set. Something flashes across his eyes and he finally relieves Hwei from his intense gaze. “Yes, I suppose.”

“So,” Hwei says, desperate for a reprieve, “how do you know the Crownguards?”

“Hm? Ah, I unfortunately know Eldred through prior business. Thoroughly insufferable man, but it pays to have connections.” Jhin’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “And yourself?”

“I’m friends with Lux- Luxanna, sorry. She recommended I submit a piece.”

Jhin hums. “Then I have young Miss Crownguard to thank for your company.”

That leaves his breath stuttering and his lips slightly agape. Hwei takes a moment to still his pounding heart. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

Jhin tilts his head. “Then let us enjoy the peace.”

He does, and there they stay in their corner of the world. Just for a little longer.

-~*~-

It’s Jhin’s birthday at the start of February. Now Jhin hadn’t exactly told him that, Hwei just remembers him mentioning it during one of his shows and had made note just in case.

Because that was a normal thing to do.

Though it does leave him with a conundrum; what on earth could he get Jhin as a present?

“Well, have you asked him?” Lux says as they stroll down the street, window shopping for ideas. She nestles her chin further into her jacket, breaths rising in little clouds.

Hwei turns to her. “I can’t just ask him. I’ll look like I’m trying too hard.”

“Urgh, fine. Does he have anything on his wish list? Mentioned any retro vintage album he’s been looking for or…?”

“No, he wants for nothing.”

“Great! So get him something he needs!”

“He already has everything he could ever need and the money to get the few things he doesn’t.”

Lux tugs off a glove with her teeth to send a quick text to someone before she replies. “Okay… so we need something that only you could give him…”

Oh, don’t-

She snaps her fingers. “You should paint him something!”

Hwei looks at her like a deer in headlights. “No, absolutely not.”

“Why not? I’m sure he’d love it! He loved your piece at the exhibition, right?”

“Well, no. He said he liked it.”

Lux waves a hand. “Same difference.”

No, Hwei thinks, there is a very real distinct difference.

“What would I even paint?”

“Well, why not just paint how he makes you feel?”

Lux probably expects sweetness and rainbows and a dozen other cheesy things from romcoms. As if his feelings about Jhin would ever be so straightforward.

The idea is nice, but there’s that constant coil of doubt. It’s all well and good pouring his heart onto the page, but what if Jhin hates it?

Or, worse, if he doesn’t love it?

-~*~-

When Hwei looks at himself in the bathroom mirror, he finds he doesn’t really recognise himself. He knows the person he sees is him in a physical sense, but it still doesn’t feel like his body.

His body is… practical. It carries him dutifully to wherever he needs to go and only breaks down when he doesn’t sleep for three days or tries to subsist purely on caffeine. He’s never really considered himself ugly, or beautiful for that matter. He’s always just existed, in a body that doesn’t quite feel like his.

He showers, the water too far hot, dead skin flaking away when he scrubs. It leaves him tender and raw, blotchy and red all over. His hair is getting too long, maybe he should cut it himself again, the option becoming more and more attractive the longer he grumbles around his knots.

Then he looks down and is struck by the most obvious reminder that he isn’t a man. Not really.

It’s never really bothered him that much before. They’re just part of his body, same as the rest of it. He trails a hand downward, cups his breast and wonders if he should be disgusted.

He is a man, in theory and mostly in practice. Lux knows him as a man, but did Garen see a man too? Or did that confuse him as much as the art on the walls? What of the average person on the street? Not that their opinions held much weight against his friend’s.

But what of Jhin?

“Shame is the crutch of creation,” Jhin had said once during their late night phone calls, “if you waste your time worrying about what someone else might think, you’ll never make anything.”

Couldn’t his own body be an act of creation? Melding it into a shape that suited his needs? Couldn’t it be made into something beautiful?

What did beauty matter if the underbelly was rotten?

His jumper is only an afterthought as he emerges from the bathroom, hands aching, skin prickling. The radio crackles as Jhin’s voice surrounds him, his head pounding.

He claws at his chest, wishing his fingers could pry the skin from muscle, muscle from bones, spill his blood and guts onto his canvas. Desecrate the body that the divine had blessed him with, because how could a holy being possibly understand a wretched creature like him?

Maybe he could free his soul and find it a new vessel, one that was more whole, more appealing.

Or maybe, he thinks as he takes up his brush, he could paint one.

-~*~-

“It’s… different,” Lux says slowly, fingers tapping at her chin. She’s not had the chance to take off her coat, her nose and cheeks still slightly red from the teeth of winter.

Hwei picks at a loose thread on his jumper, watching her through his hair. “Different in a good way?”

“I’m… I’m not sure.”

Even he isn’t sure how he feels about it. The canvas is black, a humanoid shape taking centre stage. It claws its back open, bloody wings erupting from the wounds as it weeps golden tears.

An act of desecration to achieve freedom from the self.

Maybe a bit on the nose, but-

Lux looks at his canvas, then back to him. “Are you alright?”

Hwei falters. He doesn’t like her expression. “What do you mean?”

Lux’s frown only deepens and she takes a step back, away from the canvas, away from him. “I’m really sorry, I don’t understand what would drive you to make this.”

Hwei lets out a deep, long sigh. “There’s something wrong with me, isn’t there?”

“No, no!” Lux says, “Of course not!”

She’s lying. Hwei sighs and shoves his hands in his pockets. He looks at his piece again. “What do you see?” he asks softly, hoping his voice is steady.

Lux looks at his canvas again, brows furrowing. She rubs at her chin and stares at it, even though her lips quiver and her shoulder sag. They’re both quiet for a long moment before she finally turns to him.

“I see someone hurting,” she says.

“Do you think I’m hurting?”

“Yes, and I want to understand how to help.”

“Understand?” His voice doesn’t sound like his own. Would it be easier to laugh or cry? They both bubble in his chest and threaten to breach his defences as Hwei swipes his dirty sleeves over his face. “I’ve laid it all before you, I don’t get what else there is to understand.”

“Explain it to me,” she says, though the effect is dampened by a lack of her usual enthusiasm, “is painting creepy stuff like this an outlet?”

Hwei blinks. “Creepy?” he repeats, the word bitter on his tongue.

Lux is still staring at him, so sickeningly perfect and pretty and free from blemishes. It must be nice, he thinks, to have a body already in the right shape instead of having to carve it yourself.

“Do I unsettle you, Lux?” he asks slowly.

Lux stiffens. “When you ask questions like that, yeah.”

Hwei laughs, but the sound is strained. “You know, art is most effective when it can invoke an emotional response.”

He doesn’t miss how her eyes dart to the front door.

“You’re terrified,” he says simply.

“Of course I am when you act like this and paint freaky stuff like that! Don’t try to scare me, it’s not funny!”

It’s like a thread has snapped. Hwei closes the space between them and lunges for her, grabs her arms and digs his fingers in until he feels bone.

“Is that what you truly think of me?” he breathes.

“Hwei, let go-”

“Did you always think of me as a freak? Or are only now being enlightened?”

“Get off me!”

“I don’t understand!”

“I said get off me!”

Lux shoves his against chest, hard. So hard that he lands on the ground in a graceless heap. She scrambles up backward toward the door, heaving desperately.

Hwei reaches out. “Lux. I’m so sorry, I-”

“I think you need to- to calm down,” Lux says, sniffling. She’s shaking and Hwei feels sick. “I-I’ll call you later, okay?”

She doesn’t wait for a reply, slipping her shoes back on and slamming the door hard enough to shake the walls. The sound rings in his ears, pounds in his skull as he gradually finds himself on his feet again. 

Hwei stares at the door, his head filled with cotton wool and lead. He rubs his face, the dry paint on his sleeves scratching against his skin. He sways, vertigo assaulting his senses. He wants to vomit, claw his eyes out, peel off his skin.

What is wrong with him? What isn’t?

Then he catches a glimpse of his easel. Hwei tosses it over with a heavy crash, no doubt further infuriating his downstairs neighbours. He gasps and wheezes as he stares at it. Maybe he should burn it? In this enclosed space it was extremely dangerous, but maybe then he’d burn too.

He’d deserve it, to burn alive-

Hwei stumbles back until he trips and lands on his mattress. He can’t breathe. He curls over on himself and clutches his chest, his mouth, drool escapes his lips as he pants and gasps. Tears scorch his eyes and scald his cheeks. His chest burns, his throat threatens to close in on itself.

His hand moves of its own accord, straining for his desk and closing his shaking fingers around his phone. He calls before he can even realise what he’s doing and crushes the phone against his ear.

It rings, and rings, and rings-

Then Hwei throws it away. It clatters across the floor, disappearing to some unknown corner. He curls in on himself even further.

His phone starts ringing. He crams his hands over his ears until it stops.

There he stays, until he goes numb.

-~*~-

A rhythmic tapping at his door jolts Hwei awake. He wasn’t even aware he’d drifted off, but he can’t bring himself to extract himself from the cocoon of blanket he’s found himself in.

He waits, for what he isn’t sure.

After a pause, there’s another series of knocks on his door, then,

“Hwei? I know you’re in there.”

Jhin’s voice should have been a comfort, but right now? In the state he’s in? Hwei hugs his legs impossibly closer, his other hand pressing over the ear that isn’t crammed against the pillow.

Even so, he still hears him, “I’m coming in. Even if you’re indecent.”

The door groans as it swings open, clicking shut shortly after. Jhin’s shoes and cane click against the floor with every step until they come to a stop beside his mattress.

“Hwei. Look at me.”

That voice which led him through many sleepless nights now forces him out from his duvet barrier, just enough to poke his head out and peer upward. Jhin’s stare is intense, cold and hard, but perhaps it’s the hopeful idealist within that sees something else.

Hwei sniffs and wipes his face. “Why-”

“You rang me,” Jhin says, “I was in the middle of something but by the time I could reply you wouldn’t answer any of my calls or texts.”

Hwei blinks up at him, then cold shame surges in him again. “I’m sorry.”

Jhin only hums, tapping his usual one, two, three, four with his cane before he places it against the wall. Somehow, the rhythm seems to steady Hwei’s own thundering heart as well.

Jhin crouches in front of him. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Do you think I’m dense?”

The speed at which Hwei sits up leaves him swaying. “No! Of course not.”

Jhin huffs through his nose. “Then don’t lie to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He can’t show Jhin. Can’t stand the thought of someone else pulling back his layers and being disgusted at what they see beneath. Can’t he just be low maintenance? Make everyone else’s lives easier? They already have their own problems, they don’t need his on top of everything-

Hwei glances up again.

“I… I made something awful.”

Jhin appears near serene at the admission. “Show me.”

That putrid bile in his empty stomach lurches again. “I can’t-”

A hand seizes his jaw hard as iron, the eyes that gaze down upon him just as cold. Jhin could squash him under his shoe like an insect if he really wanted to, but his grip is only barely on the side of painful.

He leans closer. “Show me.”

Hwei nods as far as he can and, once he’s released, he wobbles up to his feet. Wading through tar would have been easier than his trudging steps to the overturned easel. It takes some fumbling, but he sits it upright again, stalling for the canvas as it’s finally propped back into place.

His shoulders sag inward as Jhin’s shoes click on the floor behind him. Heat radiates from him, the sun in Hwei’s dark, endless expanse.

Of all the sounds he expected, a chuckle was certainly not one of them.

When Hwei works up the nerve to look, Jhin is standing with his arms stretched outward. “Yes,” he sighs, “this is the sort of thing I craved from you. A truer glimpse into your soul, not the sweet nothings you hide behind.”

There’s something about his voice, the way his words flow, it feels-

Wrong.

Hwei bristles. “What are you talking about?”

Then Jhin turns to him again, his eyes brimming with- something. His grin is just a tad too wide, the hand that finds a perch on Hwei’s shoulder holding just a little too tight. “You stifle your potential to make yourself palatable. I’ve been there, grovelling in mediocrity just to feign pleasantry.”

The fingers on his shoulder trail upward, digging into his collarbone hard enough to make him flinch. Hwei wriggles free. “Is mediocrity really so bad?”

A scowl creases his face. “Why would you want to subject yourself to a lifetime of never being good enough, when you’re capable of so much more? What are you afraid of?”

It’s so hard to maintain eye contact, especially when they seem to pierce straight past every wall of defence. To the shadows he tries so hard to huddle away, to keep all packed up tight and safe. The very concept that someone could not only see it, but look upon it and not cower is-

Exhilarating.

“I’m… afraid of the part of myself that stays in the dark.”

Jhin only shrugs. “It’s there, whether you choose to acknowledge it or not. Why not nurture it into something more?”

Hwei isn’t really sure what to say. The proposition seems so self-centred and conceited, so unlike him. No, he won’t- can’t feed the part of himself that dreams of tearing his own skin, of shattering Lux’s pretty bones, of slicing apart Jhin’s handsome face.

He would never- could never-

“What do you desire?”

The question is expected, somewhat, but it causes Hwei to stumble all the same. He looks out of his window, but he can’t see the stars tonight. It’s started to rain, fat drops running down the panes. For a split second, they seem red until he blinks. Hwei takes a shaky breath and wraps his arms around himself, a puny, self-pitying mockery of a hug. Maybe if he digs his nails in hard enough he could tear the ligaments free-

“Things I can’t act upon,” he finally says.

“And if I allowed you to act upon them here, and told you that it wouldn’t leave this room, would you still deny yourself?”

Hwei takes a step back. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Jhin follows. “Oh, I hope you do.”

Hwei hits the wall and his breath stutters. Jhin slips a hand under his chin and tilts him upward, their lips a breath away.

“Pain is such an intimate thing, isn’t it?”

I want your blood to soak into my floor so it will never scrub out. I want to shatter your bones so you can never leave me. I want to eat your heart so it will always be mine.

Hwei lunges for his throat and shoves them backwards, collapsing into a heap on the ground. There’s a dull thunk as Jhin’s head hits the floor, but Hwei doesn’t have it in him to care. Hwei’s fractured, chipped nails dig into Jhin’s throat and a hand comes up to take his wrist. Jhin doesn’t try to move them, or even resist, just simply holds.

“I- ah, I promise this will be much more entertaining if I’m conscious, my dear.”

“Maybe I don’t want you conscious.” Hwei tightens his hold and revels in the wheeze it dredges up from Jhin’s lungs. “Or breathing.”

Jhin is still smiling, even as he gasps uselessly. Hwei hates it, loves it. “You wouldn’t- ah, kill me like this, would you? It’s far too- simple.”

“Oh, but it’s so very intimate, don’t you think?”

If he squeezes a little tighter, maybe that would be it. Then he really could do whatever he wanted.

Even so, his grip eases and as Jhin heaves the air back into his lungs he trails his hands downward, nails scraping along the firm muscle beneath. He feels the minute quivers below his fingers, the heat of his skin, wonders how it would feel to peel it all back and marvel at the flesh.

Eyes follow his every move and Hwei wonders how easy it would be to gouge them with his fingers.

How does his blood taste-

Hwei doesn’t stop to reconsider, to doubt. He sinks his teeth into the junction between shoulder and throat. He breaks the skin, sighs at the copper on his tongue. Jhin hisses above him, a hand sliding into Hwei’s hair and tightening enough to draw tears.

It takes a particularly hard yank to force Hwei off, red staining his lips. He blinks a few times, dazed. Then realisation, as stark as a bucket of ice water.

“I’m so-”

But Jhin cuts him off with another harsh pull, forcing his back to arch so beautifully. He whines, a hand instinctively reaching to close around Jhin’s.

“I’m sick of you apologising for breathing,” he says, his tone neutral in a way that makes Hwei shudder.

“Sorry.”

“Now you’re just being facetious.”

He wheezes out a laugh. “You’d be prettier if you stopped breathing.”

Jhin only hums, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Keep going.”

Their position tips, Hwei ends up in Jhin’s lap, one hand on Jhin’s shoulder to keep him steady. Hwei ghosts his thumb over his previous mark, smearing the blood and admiring how Jhin shivers at the sensation. His other hand sneaks up to the back of Jhin’s neck and pulls him down.

The initial kiss is soft, like school sweethearts uncertain and petrified. Hwei isn’t sure who breaks the calm first, but then it’s all teeth and sharp bites and blood- He’s not even sure who’s blood he can taste-

He dearly hopes it’s a mix of both.

Jhin doesn’t pull away so much as he hauls Hwei back once he finally needs to breathe and leaves him to gasp like a fish above water.

Once he recovers though, Hwei tugs at the hem of Jhin’s shirt. “Take this off.”

Jhin tuts through his teeth, but compiles all the same, though not without making it an agonising trial of patience. Each button might as well be a mountain to best or beast to slay.

When the fabric finally falls to the floor, Hwei momentarily forgets how vital it is to breathe.

“Have I ever told you how charming you are when at a loss for words?”

Hwei shoots him a scowl and considers slapping him, but the contact would only be temporary, it wouldn’t be enough.

Logically, Hwei knows Jhin is not God, but that doesn’t make it any less sacrilege to look upon him like this, perfect in a way that leaves Hwei so desperate to claw and bite and scratch. He wants to tear Jhin’s ribcage open, devour what is his and his alone to always keep Jhin with him.

The only blemishes that mar his skin, save for Hwei’s previous efforts, are two scars beneath his pecs. Part of him wants to reopen them, drink in the blood that spills, but another lucid part screams-

He’s like me, he’s like me, he’s-

Then Jhin’s larger hands slide under his sweater and peel back his shield. Hwei freezes and squeezes his eyes shut, anticipation clawing up his throat like bile. There’s a sigh and Hwei feels the gaping maw of the abyss open beneath him.

“Let me in,” Jhin says, as if uttering a secret.

And the rest of the universe might as well not exist.

Hwei lets out a long, quivering breath, chest impossibly tight as he lets Jhin peel back his defences like the petals of a flower. He expects to miss the safety, but instead only the warmth. Warmth which is quickly replaced by Jhin’s hands.

Hwei so desperately craves for them to pry deeper, to carve out a place inside him. Perhaps he could offer his own heart, but what good would that wretched broken thing be to anyone?

He catches Jhin’s wrist and draws it upward, his fingers coming to rest at his neck, thumb brushing his lips.

“Destroy me,” he whispers, “and build me anew.”

For the briefest of moments, it is Jhin’s turn to lose his breath. Then he leans closer, and murmurs as a prayer, “Nothing I could create would ever compare to you as you are.”

-~*~-

When Hwei wakes, everything aches.

He groans and tries to curl inward only to bump into a warm weight at his side. It takes some convincing for his eyes to finally peel open and the memories of the previous night come flooding back.

Jhin looks so different when he’s asleep, his brow at ease and his lips slightly parted. He’s snoring, though only softly, hair rumpled and sticking out in odd directions. Hwei wants to reach out and brush it back down, but touching him might just break the tranquillity of the moment.

Though that’s when he realises they’re both still very naked.

With as much grace as he can muster, Hwei shimmies from under the duvet and down to the floor, fumbling about for his sweater and underwear. It’s almost suffocating to have them back on again, the fabric rubs against his healing bruises and cuts, but they’re stabilising, they tether him back to earth.

Still, it itches. This one never usually does, he’d hate to get rid of it. Lux had got it for him and he’d kept it till it was nearly threadbare. He twists his hands into the fabric and holds them there, staring into nothing.

He wonders where his phone is, if Lux would even want to hear from him after the night prior. She had said she would call him, hadn’t she?

A ruffle of fabric behind him returns him to the waking world and he glances back to see Jhin sitting up, blinking the remnants of sleep away and rubbing his face. It’s a spare moment of graceless fumbling that Hwei wishes he could bottle and capture on a canvas.

It’s gone just as swiftly as Jhin pushes his hair back from his face and raises his gaze.

“We really must get you a proper bed,” he grunts.

Hwei only shrugs. “I don’t mind it.”

Jhin pouts, honestly pouts. “Well, I mind very much, thank you.”

It makes Hwei chuckle. “Sorry it doesn’t meet your standards.”

“It’s a little novel for one night, but I understand fully why your posture is in the state it is.”

It takes a smidge more effort than Jhin would likely admit, but he does manage to rise to his feet with all the grace he desires. Hwei goes to grab his cane but Jhin waves him off.

“I can manage without,” he says, then adds a slightly softer, “though your concern is not unwelcome.”

Hwei huffs. “It’s the least I can do.”

It’s only then Hwei realises he has nothing to offer for breakfast other than instant coffee. He fully expects Jhin to turn his nose up, but he accepts the offer.

While the kettle boils, Hwei can’t help but stare. It’s not his fault, he reasons, as Jhin is adverse to putting his clothes back on it seems. He’s lounging back in Hwei’s desk chair, admiring his easel in the golden morning light, fingers tapping his usual rhythm on the desk.

One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four-

Hwei wishes he’d had the forethought to close his blinds, not to protect Jhin’s modesty or some similar ridiculous notion, but to hide away what should only be a sight for him.

He shakes his head as the thought crosses his mind and he returns to searching for a clean mug.

The morning drags with little urgency, as if the outside world has ground to a halt just for them. Hwei perches on the end of his mattress. Jhin is probably right about getting himself a proper bed, but he just keeps putting it off…

“Is it despair or catharsis?”

Jhin’s voice rouses him once again and Hwei has to take a moment to understand what the question means. Ah, his canvas.

“Can’t it be both?” he says.

Jhin’s lips pause at the rim of the mug, then he lowers it back down to glance at Hwei. “Do elaborate.”

Hwei peers down into his own mug, feels a twinge of displeasure when he spies a hair floating and picks it out. Gives him a moment to compile his thoughts into a coherent sentence,

“Despair because the life it knew is gone forever, there’s no going back to what it was before. Catharsis because it’s finally free to spread its wings and become what it was always meant to be.”

Jhin hums, his gaze drifting back to the canvas. The moment drags, but it isn’t painful nor even unpleasant. Hwei finds he quite likes watching Jhin think.

Finally, he places his mug onto the desk and says,

“I’d like to see some of your other pieces, if you don’t mind.”

Hwei blinks. “They’re not very impressive.”

“Show me.”

It’s not a demand, but a request. For once, Jhin’s smile is pure and Hwei thinks if he does not tear his gaze away he might cry.

“I have a few…”

[rivangel]

“  hey,  look at me.  i’m listening.  you can tell me anything. ” and 17 (holding the other’s chin) with levi!!

//gn!reader | .8k

On some random day about a week ago, Levi started avoiding you, and you don’t understand it. How he could go from snuggling for long minutes in bed before dragging you out to clean up; despite his rigid routine, obeying your pleas for ‘five more minutes’; letting you squeeze his hand in public—to this, now. He sits hunched over at his desk and tea protectively cradled under his chin, eyes narrowed because you insist on understanding why he’s dismissing you when this is the first chance you’ve gotten to see each other all day.

Levi is new to, or rather completely out of his element in relationships like you have, it’s true. But as the months have gone on, you’ve cleared many hurdles in this regard. He’s done this before, and that was the first and last time.

You haven’t pried an answer out of him yet. At this point, you’re taking stabs at the dark.

“Is it because I held your hand in the courtyard the other day?”

His cheeks blush hotter. “Don’t be stupid. You don’t—”

“Umm”—you huff—“I keep calling you Levi instead of your title during training?”

“No. I told you, it’s nothing.”

You deadpan. “If you could stop bullshitting me, that’d be nice. This is really…”

“Do you have cotton in your ears?”

“…stressing me out.”

The huff he makes sounds just as stressed as you feel. He plants his cup down on the saucer with a dull clink and avoids your imploring stare, seemingly having an internal battle with himself.

You scoot your chair right up to his, and touch his flaming cheek to guide his attention back in your direction. He lets you, though reluctant.

“What’s wrong?”

His eyes flicker away. “It’s nothing worth telling you.”

It feels like you’re getting somewhere. Maybe it isn’t a big deal like he says, but if he’s struggling this much, it’s clearly a big deal to him.

Your hand slips down, and holds his chin. “Hey, look at me. I’m listening. You can tell me anything. We’ll figure it out together.”

He holds steady, but timid eye contact. “Got you something.”

Your brows raise. Utter confusion replaces your prior anxiety. The anxiety that’s eaten at you all week. “You… got me something?”

“Mm.” He shakes off your touch, and places both your hands down flat on the fine wood desk. “It was supposed to be a surprise, but I couldn’t… decide on a good time.”

He must think that’s a stupid thing to say aloud, for his expression becomes stony again. “Look, I’m not good at gifts, do you get it? I told you it was nothing, but you’re so damn nosy…”

“It’s definitely something to you. And that’s enough.”

He grunts.

It fully hits you then that Levi got you a gift. Mostly, he’ll do your paperwork three weeks in advance and oil your ODM gear and iron your uniform, and on and on—but he’s never gotten you a gift before.

You can’t remember telling him, or even giving off the impression that you wanted something from anywhere. From everything you’ve seen and heard out of his behavior lately, he must’ve done it just because.

You don’t put it past Levi to be bad at gift-giving in general. You’re his first partner.

“You got me a gift… I’d love to see it,” you say in a small voice. “Is this a good time?”

“…As good a time as any.”

He scoots away from you, and a drawer can be heard opening before slowly, he raises it to you. At first, you think the small, silky pillow is the gift before you spot the intricate silver shaved, molded, and fashioned in the shape of your favorite flower, just big enough to fit in your palm. It’s the color of a brand new blade, bright silver.

“I had a blacksmith do it. It’s a flower,” he explains quickly. “So I was pretty sure you’d like it. Flowers as gifts are cheap since they always die, but this one won’t. Take it.”

Your eyes prick with tears as he delicately transfers it from his hands to yours. It shines under the candlelight. This was so thoughtful of him that you’re rendered speechless.

“Why… are you crying?” His brows furrow severely. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing. Because I love it,” you whimper, unable to control yourself. “I love it so much. This is incredible. Thank you, angel.”

He deflates in relief. Cheeks pink, he regains his composure, and even a little pride as he leans forward with a soft cloth. He picks up your chin to properly wipe away your tears. “I see. Then good.”

Cradling his gift, you upturn your chin. He leans in, and kisses you with all the affection he didn’t, or couldn’t, communicate through words.

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